all the stars in the sky could not replace you

Beyond all the hatred and regret in her heart was an ever-present yearning for family. Her mother, virtuous beyond doubt, was always good in Aruna's eyes. Her father and sister, however, were different subjects. Though despite their treacheries, she loved them to the moon and back.

Even in all the night's glory and their whispers on the wind, it would never replace the feeling of warmth they shared. Valhalla homed them, but Aruna cherished them. Snow climbed the mountain's walls, layering a thin white mask over a blackened pelt. Shades of gray and lavender lightened beneath the chilling powder.

Her dreams were fragments of a love long forgotten - recollections were vague moments that danced in her mind. Since her arrival, everything came back in flashes. Violent scenes plagued her dreamscape, but after there were elements of familial love and guilt.

It was rarely something she could sleep through, leaving her to calm among the solace of the stars during the restless nights. This was one of those nights.

Coiled comfortably on the cliffside, the woman lay with her head in her paws, pale irises sloped to meet the heavens. She periodically whispered to them, words of uncharacteristic benevolence uttered to her loved ones.

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@Cato

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  The snow had been akin to Wrath's liking— the cool air that trickled beneath each hair follicle, the snow that fell from the heavens, and the way that the ice wedged itself between his calloused toes gave him a grim texture to the harsh realities that life had to offer towards him. He guessed it wouldn't have been so bad though— he had much to look forward to compared to many others. 

 Flashes of what used to be, he assumed, his elder life were incriminatingly violent and rash. He saw himself at the center of many conflicts, and even the justice that followed suit. It would make him wonder who exactly he had been then, but he supposed it didn't matter now. He was somewhere else, completely vanished from what he was used to, and placed at the top of a snowy heap. 

 A stark scent of florals and gardenia pierced his nose, his head immediately perking upright. His ears pointed forward, and his nose stuck to the ground in an attempt to find where his nostalgia bled from. On and on he went until he saw her— a low mule feigned from his throat, a familial call rolling through the air. "Se kesīr nyke thought īlen mērī," — And here I thought I was alone, His mother tongue rolled off easily and comfortably. The sight of her merely made his blood run hot, clouded with an impenetrable lust that coiled in his lower stomach. A smirk pulled at his features, a toothy smile and guttural groan beckoning at the back of his throat as he approached her.

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The wind gusted through the valley, brushing thick fur against Aruna’s neck and draping from her cheeks. It sent a sharp shiver up the woman’s spine before fading with the breeze. The gorge was uniquely made, acute to her desires, but lacked in security. Pack territories enveloped the vale, swaying Aruna’s interest. Stormguard could not have a home amid foreign packs. They never could, not after the fall. Rather be safe than sorry.

As she thought, she raised her head to the speckled flank of the sky, uttering a final thanks. A floral and earthy scent with a sharp, cool tinge of home poisoned the air almost pleasantly. It was distinct and rang of the motherland, but it was not her own. A smile shadow cast over her coat, following the gruff voice that called to her. There was comfort in the rough familiarity of the bear's voice and the warmth of his presence - a long-forgotten feeling. Wrath. His name was like honey on her tongue, their affinity was anything but strange to her. Twisting her head to meet his gaze, there he was, adorning a pelt of charcoal and crimson, his eyes a glowing amber. ”Wrath.” She muttered, her own gaze sparking with familiar affection. She thought he was dead.

It took her a moment to process, but she slid right back into their old routine. “Surely īlva culture nykeēdrosa ēdan mirri effect va ao? Ao sagon dōrī mērī - daor gōvilagon se bantis’s qēlossās.” — Surely our cultures teachings had some effect on you? You’re never alone - not beneath the stars. She replied, a faint smile gracing her maw. Standing to greet him, she found herself swiftly embracing her once-lost friend. “Nyke’ve missed ao, ao gīmigon.” — I’ve missed you, you know. The woman whispered, snout delving into the nook of his neck, taking in his scent for the first time in ages.

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  Wrath would tsk, eyes rolling as his dearest brought up mumblings about the stars. It had been a part of their faithful religion and bloodline entirely— the stars guide. Wrath thought it to be a silly notion, a silly gamble. But he had supposed not. As the sky above them glowed with an ambiance of their ancestors, he beamed. 

 Her Valyrian smothered nicely between his ears. The sound of it was homely. "Va moriot rambling nūmāzma se qēlossās..." — Always mumbling about the stars... Wrath would lightly laugh, the sound coming from deep within his chest and harshly from his jaw. It was a sound that Aruna heard frequently— only her. He'd eye her as she stood, lean physique teasing and tempting him as she sauntered towards him. He let his eyes linger, let them trail across the course of her body, letting her know that he held no shame. 

 As Aruna put her nose into his neck, he'd return the gesture briefly with his snout coming to wrap around the back of her head. He could feel her breathe in his scent softly, her shoulders going 'lax, and finding a sense of peace with him. A mischievous thought played on his mind. With his strength he'd take her down to the ground, neck pushing her and feet coming to trip her up, forcing her beneath him as he stood proudly above her. His tail and obtuse strength would break the backbone of her fall— and there was plenty of snow beneath her to make sure she didn't hit the hard ground. It was a slight tussle and snow gathered in puffs around them, but after they settled he shook his head of the flakes and looked down at her. 

 He'd draw his muzzle towards her ear, accentuating his words as he barely spoke above the range to be heard. His voice would vibrate like a soft bass. "Ao missed nyke, byka dārilaros?" — You missed me, little princess? He'd have to reconfirm what she had said— after all, it just made him so rattled to hear the words spill from her petite lips. It made his chest bolster with pride, his eyes glowing with anticipation. Wrath's nose would come to bump her forehead, a soft gesture. "Hae gōntan nyke. " — As did I. His nose would linger, taking a soft inhale of her feminine scent, and he made no effort to move away from her.

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Wrath was never particularly religious, but he understood. The Stormguardian faith was a comforting thought and provided Aruna with the closure and solace she needed. “īlva faith iksos se mērī mēre nyke’ve mirre known, ziry iksos bē habitual sir." — Our faith is the only one I’ve ever known, it's almost habitual now. — They were important to her, the last communication between her and family. He knew it, and despite his divided feelings on the matter, he respected it nonetheless.

Her grace didn't go unnoticed; she was well built with feigning elegance, and luxurious fur curling at the ends. Golden eyes trailed down her bodice, then up once more. He stood awe-struck, enthralled by the young maiden. He made no effort to hide his attraction, not that it bothered Aruna any. "Nyke hope bona jurnegon isse aōha laes dōrī fades." — I hope that look in your eye never fades. Her mother tongue rolled off her tongue easily like a second nature, lovingly and delicate.

Their weight shifted, flipping Aruna beneath him. She landed in the fresh silver powder with a thud and huff. She gave him a knowing look, eyes soft. "Hen rhinka. Though dāria would sagon se appropriate title - lo īlon're being technical." — Of course. Though queen would be the appropriate title - if we're being technical. The woman corrected aptly, pride swelling in her soul. His snout glided along her forehead, and Aruna pushed back into him with the same affection. Only he could get as close as he did to her, no one else. Wrath's devotion to her was beyond doubt, and her the same.

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  Stormguardian nature would always take Wrath as a surprise. He knew it all well, being from a House of his own, but they were not nearly as viciously religious as they had been. Surely he knew of their stars, how they worshipped them so, but he would never make a wish upon a star and pray to a coup of Gods that may not even exist. He needed proof— proof of anything at all. What he had before him, Aruna, was proof enough that there was a sense of beauty in the world. He didn't need to get on his knees and utter a few Valyerian hymns to ask for that. He only needed himself.

 His head cocked to the side, a devilish look pulling at him. "Skoros jurnegon?" — What look? He'd ask her, knowing full well what look she meant. Wrath wore his desires on his shoulder. Sex wasn't something to be afraid of, nor hide. He thought that the Brehn's may have a different opinion about it all— vanity, virginity, all of that shit he knew they took seriously and into account. But why would Wrath care? He's a sauntering male with a good body and a killer gaze. Women coddled at his feet, begging for him to fuck them, but he would simply tell them no. Or maybe because they weren't up to his tastes. Or standards. Or maybe he was just being mean. 

 Wrath would watch as her eyes would go soft at his comment. He'd tsk and roll his eyes, pulling his snout away from her forehead. "Kessa? Nyke pendagon nyke'll tāemītsos lēda dārilaros, aōha majesty." — Yeah? I think I'll stick with Princess, your majesty. He would tease her, freeing his body from atop hers and kicking up some snow to cool the heat from his paws. He'd look back to her, gesturing her to join him as they looked over the mountain tops. 

 "Skoriot gaomagon ao jaelagon naejot mazverdagon aōha dārion, aōha majesty?" — Where do you wish to make your kingdom, your majesty?.

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Laying below the he-wolf, she rested her paws lightly on his chest, muzzling pressing into Wrath's tenderly. Obscured as it may have seemed being a woman of little love, Aruna was not blind to their relationship nor affection. In fact, she encouraged it, holding him close. 

The woman scoffed, shaking her head out of her own embarrassment. As the brute stepped off of her, she flipped upright with a huff.  and walked to the ledge upon Wrath's request. Pale eyes scoured the land, until they reconnected with Wrath's gaze. The cold air brushed the wolves coats, faded swiftly. Cloudrest's was a perfect mix of woodlands, mountains, and valley. Just as it should be. "Cloudrest iksos tolī than sufficient naejot provide syt īlva." — Cloudrest is more than sufficient to provide for us. She nodded to the territory, a minor forest lining the start of the rocky peaks. "Nyke pāsagon ao'll join issa konīr?" — I trust you'll join me there?

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As the Dragonborne stood above the starborn queen, he watched the way she melted into his body. Her paws pushed against his chest, but not in a means of pushing her away, but perhaps pulling her closer. Fuller. She gestured and talked about settling here, upon this summit of the mountain. It vaguely reminded him of home— the ambiance of it all. He'd shrug his shoulders as he looked around it.

The air swirled around them. Small gusts of wind. He thought it was a sign. A game of twisted fate, perhaps. "Ziry jāhor gaomagon." — It will do. The ring that surrounded their now, destined, stronghold, Wrath knew that they would have to do a lot of work. Forging a kingdom was no task for the lighthearted.

She beckoned his loyalty. As a jest, he sat back, pondering her words intensely. He hummed with amusement, then raising his brows, coming to a consensus. "Ziry jāhor sagon nykeā pleasure, issa dāria." — It will be a pleasure, my queen.

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Slate fur billowed forward, caressed by the comforting chill of wind, climbing up her spine deliciously. The Dragonborne’s had swore nothing but loyalties to his Varghona, aligning himself as second in command.

To command a kingdom was no small feat, a pleasure and pain in itself; something they were both entitled to. They were born to rule, chosen by the gods; Aruna by blood, Wrath by circumstance. Pār se vale jāhor sagon īlvon. — Then the vale will be ours. Stormguard would be born anew beneath their reign.

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