Have a seat in the foyer, take a number

i was lightning before the thunder

The last she remembered of the great stone tower was the day she called a meeting relieving herself as Sovereign; the crown, a once weightless bauble that turned cold upon a head that did nothing with such prestige. Perhaps her time on the throne wasn't completely useless, for she pulled them together and built a court amid the rubble, but then... then she couldn't bear the idea of failure and crumbled beneath the pressure before she could do anything more than meet the Sovereigns of only two neighboring courts. She gave it all away to a girl who showed promise--but a girl nonetheless, one not nearly ready to rule. She knew Florentine wouldn't turn her away, though, and she knew of none better to take the spot above them all. And so she passed the title on and left.

Máni followed close behind, as the two once newly-met were inseparable soon after. Rannveig had never known a love like his; their emotional attachment ran deep, and above all else she believed him genuine in his feelings toward her. She had known no passion other than the heat of battle, the strategy of the crown, until they met where the sun and moon crossed. They found devotion in their work toward the Dusk kingdom, toward its people, toward each other, and once she decided to leave it all behind there was no question of him moving with her. Their time in Hiemsterra welcomed their first-born, and bade goodbye to the King and Queen of the Winter Court. She had given up her title long ago as heir, and instead her brother took the mantle beyond their parents. Nothing kept her there any longer, and so the three traveled further.

The day held her close, breezes twirling the ends of a mane long and coarse. There was no wolf's coat to cover her own starry-painted one, no position of Queen to hold her back from impossible standards; she had left his side once to beg for their Goddess' forgiveness, and again she once stood beside him in their world of uncertainties. Neither held value, nor expectations for their future, and perhaps she would be okay with that so long as he and Valkyr were with her.

While he stood and gazed, she slipped behind him with muzzle running along his side, lips nipping the sensitive areas as she wandered toward his front. Depth-filled teal eyes took in all he did, one ear given to him while no other motion was made; they did not need words to convey their love, no side-eyeing or romantic gestures. They, together, were enough and for a time she reveled in the silence between them..

Have a seat in the foyer, take a number

i was lightning before the thunder

Hers was a home of the brightest love in the darkest decisions; her moments of non-glory marred with the taste of defeat seemed dim in the light of his presence beside her the whole way. She knew of hardship, knew of disappointment in who she was simply because she was. She did not choose to be, instead given a life defined by a god, but she did pick him and that was, perhaps, one of the greatest honors she could have had bestowed upon her. She was not a creature of great love, though, sharing few emotional bonds with any save those of rare in childhood. He was one of the few that called not just to her heart, but a mind woven shut with winters endless and fields drawn with blood. So long she had spent trying to prove an unmatched wit and strength for a kingdom, then so easy they had strung themselves together.

It was quiet for a time, mindless bustle weaving while they held themselves in place—one pressed against the other. It should have been comforting to be in a place that didn't require her to beat down every warrior surrounding to show her worth, to not have to sit in complacency and listen to every squabble placed at the foot of a throne. But being back in the land of Dusk filled her with a dread that not even Máni beside her could dispel; she was their Queen, and she simply threw it all away. She fell to nothing, and that might have been what was best for the court, yet a hole filled in all the spaces previously occupied. She needed time, maybe. She needed a new song to sing.

He spoke and she nodded solemnly, unease at the mention of 'home.' "What face do they see as mine, now?" Her heavy voice created a void between them as she copied his motions to pull back. Eyes locked onto eyes as she searched his face, desperately wishing for a simple answer. "What do we do, here in 'home' without titles?" It was all she knew, to lead, to fight for rights not given out merrily. The Court of Dusk had moved on without them, and where she once felt seamless in their lives it became almost a chore to remind herself that she was overthinking.