[ ✸ ] Ti'n Werth y Byd.

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A cool melody swirled at the awaking eyes of their cobblestone cottage; the winds of Autumn so crisp and definite, pushing flocks of Ovis deeper within their place of stay. The young King had traveled through every season, some more delightful to his subjective tastes than others. He'd been graced by the blessings of Spring, a glorious oratorio dripped on the birthing of lambs and holy pastures. Trudged with chestnut furs moistened with sweat during the swelters of Summer, their marmalade wings calcimining upon the bluebird sky. It was undeniable, the love affair he shared with Fall. Oftentimes the muscled stag could be seen romping through a land hand-painted with his sculpted limbs in mind; camouflaged by the Seasons.

Though, despite the sudden drop in temperature—an occurrence that would ordinarily send wild feet running—he remained appeased.

Nestled lovingly, bodies enraptured in blankets of freshly cleansed wool, the couple lay cuddling. Flynn, with his lengthy arms, draped around the thickening waist of his beloved; mitts placed protectively atop her belly. He found no need to leave and wonder, as the elements of nature whispered in through the tiny holes and opening their house provided. It was naturally more bearable for him underground, being it was cooler year-round below the surface, but even he could feel the Autumnal shifts above their heads.

Stretching his darkened digits, pressing his underside further into her back, he would sigh with contentment; licking the top of her head where he assumed he drooled behind her ear.

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 Meissa had never known peace like the damp fur that yielded to hers. Her breath was steady under his hold, her soft lips twitching in unspoken dream-speak. The cool damp of the Autumn was unfamiliar to she, who had lived almost her entire life within the endless confines of the desert. The warmth behind her, encasing about her - it felt like home.

 His movement woke her, and slowly did she wake.

 Eyes fluttered open, letting the softened light of their bedroom leak between lashes and soak into her pupils. Her lungs shuddered as she tried - and failed - to hold back a yawn, her face stretching open and then jaws closing with a satisfied lick of her lips. It seemed that, finally, they did not have to worry about the future. Certainly, they had fears of retribution, of mercenaries come to return with their heads, eyes lifeless - but for now, all dangers were beyond their home.

 In these walls, these pale roots that surrounded her, she was safe.

 She twisted her head to offer a kiss to whatever part of his face she could reach without disturbing their position. “Did you sleep well, love?”

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He found himself smiling often than not when she spoke, ears lapping up the beautiful grogginess of her early-morning voice. Though with the sun high yet dwindling, a gentle nibble found its way to her muzzle; a playful scolding from the king to his queen. It had appeared they'd dreamt much longer than slumbersome eyes expected, peacefully unaware of the hours gone by.

They'd deserved the extra shuteye, hadn't they? Exhaustion fueled by legacy, heavy were the crowns on inexperienced heads. Though, for the time being, they seemed to be basking in the love they shared for their success. Both of their newly claimed land and the hearts soon to beat from within her womb.

“I slept like a pup full of warm milk,” His broadened chest echoed in a chuckle, knowing exactly his intentions. Even if he did not recall what that felt like, he'd seen cubs so plump off milk they wouldn't make a sound for hours. “And you, wife?” He spoke teasingly, sliding his arm across her own until he could intertwine his fingers in her hand. The man hardly ever spoke without reason, and the wagging in his tail was becoming hard to contain.

But oh, he'd wait.

—

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 Even as it was clear that the day was half gone, the muted colours caused by rain and the gentle noise of the droplets reminded her of the first night they'd spent together. That was when the two were still but friends, the potential there but not yet realized. Not yet felt, beyond the initial interest that came from attraction itself. Oh, she was sure he had some form of attraction for her before that point. He'd referred to her as a gem, had stared at her upon their first meeting. Still, she had no idea it would have come to this.

 This gentle union, where they rested with one another, having made a home for themselves. Crowns crafted by their own shattered paws, bloody from broken illusions.

 She smiled, pressing her snout into his fur, humming a soft chuckle. Her eyes lit up as he referred to her as wife.

 They hadn't had a wedding - but did they need one? They'd certainly consummated their union, after all. Did they need something fancy to declare themselves bonded? Perhaps, to make it clear to everyone that it was a bond not to be broken. She, so occupied by protecting her claim, realized belatedly that he had shifted and was placing his paw atop her own. She stretched her toes, webbing pushed aside as his twined with hers.

 “Like a dream,” she answered, sleepy smile upon her lips. “Husband,” she stifled a giggle, hiding her face in his neck and letting her own tail wag, beating against his legs and tail.

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Laying idle in the embrace of amorousness; vision blurry, chest heaving with the squeaky ribbits of disquietude. He wept, yet no tears tendered his lashes. He cried for all the quaking nights wrapped in uncertainty, for all the creaking 'morrows that their families never came to see. Somewhere, coated in dust and memories, perhaps a single tear rose to his lids at the thought of his own attempted ending.

He wished to speak, yet no words left him. There was commotion creeping up that dry throat, words he felt strongly but had no intention of saying aloud. Never in a million years had he expected to get this far. Lost, although so very found. A boy and a king and a fool, all the same.

He speculated if death would finally reach her ears one dreadful eve; if he would ginger his beloved with his haunting.

Though he had almost slipped away, he presently still remained, by nobody's actions but her own.

Yes, he wept. He wept at the thought of what he'd be leaving behind. 

There was a great confliction swelling within him as he pressed fingers closer to her own, the webbing of her thickened paws catching grasp of the trinket he'd held all night prior. Quickly, he nestled it there. Holding, squeezing fragments of hope upon the blasted thing before removing himself to bury his eyes within her coat.

Of course, he believed she deserved a better suitor, but perhaps in those sweet wine optics she held, she thought of him as the only suitor even remotely qualified.

He didn't know what to do, what man did? He lay there, feeling tired and inadequate, just as he always had. Not even the words that his player was currently typing could amount to anything as good as the person he was typing it for. But he was trying. It was all they could do, after all. 

So he stood, erm, sat up. It was apparent the coat of wool that curled delicately around his frame had been groomed downward, along with that there was bitter tremble that rocked his bones. He heaved, dragging his tongue across dry lips. “So... I...” coughing, clearing his throat, steadying himself. “There is absolutely nothin' I can say that hasn't been said before and it's a fact that's so... Aggravatin' ta me because for days I've been thinkin' and thinkin' about what ta say ta tell yew how much... I love ya.”

A single poof of fur curled up on his chest, and with anxious chuckles, he reached down to lick it flat. “And I realised that maybe it's not that words have all dried up, but maybe it's because we tell it ta one another all 'te time without sayin' it at all. I've gotten so used to people havin' ta say somethin' for me ta understand if they truly feel a certain way, but for tha first time in my life, I didn't have ta... ta worry.” Finding comfort looking at his feet, tail wagging softly.

“I don't have ta worry 'bout someone tinkin' I'm foolish or annoyin' or not good enough for them and... And I know darlin', I know I'm a lot of work but ya've made me bett'a and I don't wanna lose that... I don't wanna lose ya, or this, or anythin' that happens in the future that involves yew.” Finding his head lifting, a swallow slinking down his throat. “Yew make me feel like... Yew can make me whole... Maybe not ta'day or tomorrow but... Whenever it is, I know it's goin' ta be with yew..”

Body lowering, head cuddled in the nook of her neck. He looked at her, he smiled. “Meissa, my
Cariad, miss talk-too-much, lady sun of mine... Will you... marry me?”

—

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 The stone felt warm upon her flesh, clasped gently against the thickened folds between her toes. He removed his paws, nestling himself into her, as she was left to observe the present he had left. The stripes of brown were richer than even her coat, in places. In the dim light of the cave, it did not shine as brilliantly as it would upon the light of the sun, but from the way it shifted as she tilted her paw to the side and then back, she knew it would. “It's beautiful,” she breathed, turning her head to look at him.

 He was nervous. She could see it in his shaking form, in the way he coughed and licked his lips. Her brow creased slightly. What was wrong?

 So, she listened. Cold concern grew warm within her as his words appeared positive. If this was a confession, it did not seem to be one of a crime - she held out hope that this was true. Her brow had softened by now and she allowed him to continue, corners of her lips curling into a patient, gentle smile. She supposed they did not often say it aloud, instead let their kisses, their gentle grasps say more than words could ever dare. She fought the urge to press her nose to his chest, to push the fur that he had just licked flat so that it curled up, loosened and free as she so liked them.

 The beast knew her beauty wanted his fur calmed, smoothed, flat against himself - but she rather appreciated when they curled like wild animals, free upon the plains that were his flesh.

 So, instead, she watched, nodding encouragingly and running her paw -the one that didn't still hold the stone - over some of his fur, wondering what it might be like to not have this webbing, to feel his curls passing even closer. His eyes were on his feet so hers traced his features, taking in the shapes that so differed from her own. If their children - any of them - bore her features, would he love them as much as he loved her?

 As he tucked into her, peering up, and gave her nicknames, she laughed, her smile turning into a kiss upon his handsome face. “Yes, yes, of course!” What else could she answer? She had thought of marrying him for... well, since before they had left the forest. The thoughts then were more of logistics, far before feelings were made true or returned. Yet, she had wondered on it. Now, she had no fear of offensive painted pelts, of never being quite enough. She had him. She kissed him again, twisting so that her arms could wrap around him and pull him into her embrace, his precious stone held tight.

 “I can't think of anything that would make me happier.”

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