No man was ever wise by chance.

”Are you ready, darling?”

The question echoed amidst the chilly air, a winter breeze blowing through the air and tousling the hair about their very heads. While the cusp of winter had arrived, Somnus and Eulalie had managed to sneak away to the Steppe before the first snowfall of the year. The pock marked earth beneath their hooves was frozen and hard, the soil having little to no give beneath their large bodies. There was a very high risk of a sprained fetlock should they not be careful, and not for the first time since departing Delumine, Somnus wondered if this was a good idea.

It wasn’t that he doubted Eulalie’s abilities, not at all… He simply felt as though there was something indescribably wrong with physically fighting your soul-mate in battle, even if it was just a test of mettle and skill. Despite what some might believe, Eulalie was a soldier of Delumine, and Somnus knew that he needed to treat her as such. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her by turning down the offer of a friendly spar.

Together, they had left Delumine behind in favor of the expected battle grounds upon the Steppe. Side by side they had walked the familiar paths and trails through the forest, traveling south at a leisurely pace. They flirted as young lovers would, and more than often Somnus would brush the feathers of his wing against the ridges of Eulalie’s pale spine simply because he could. They were married now, after all. They were one.

Married. He could scarcely believe the thought. Oriens, the mighty, knowing Oriens, had blessed their union himself. Aside from the day that Regis and Anemone had been born, the day of their wedding would forever be the one that brought him the most joy and heartfelt warmth. Since that day of the blessing beneath Oriens’ early light and knowing eyes, Somnus knew Eulalie in a way he had never known her before. Within his breast, in the cradle of his heart, he could feel her there. A steady pulse, a steady presence, the beautiful woman of ivory and gold was always with him. Their spirits intertwined forevermore, they were intimately familiar with one another that in no way had to do with physicality. They were more than that now. Spiritual, perhaps. With all of the words he knew and had at his disposal, Somnus knew that he could never properly articulate the wonder that had accrued between he and his wife.

With hushed whispers and soft laughters as though they were on their way to a date as opposed to a spar, both husband and wife arrived at the Bellum Steppe. They got into position; Somnus, with his back towards the southern coastline of the Terminus Sea and able to to see the impressive peak of Veneror to the north, allowed for Eulalie to pick whichever point she desired to begin their battle. The afternoon sun shone brightly overhead from an overcast sky, revealing a battlefield of upturned earth. The trees surrounding the steppe shifted and swayed with the might of the winter breeze, and even though Somnus shivered from the chill that swept over him, it was also in part due to his excitement.

The dunalino’s emerald eyes glittered as he watched Eulalie, awaiting her confirmation of preparation. Alba soared in lazy circles overhead, uncertain if she would be needed on this easy-going spar or not. Somnus had no intention on using his bonded in this fight, at least not yet, but that might change. Eulalie was a brilliant tactician, just as he was, and even though this was just for fun, well… Things always changed on the battlefield.

Already Somnus’ pulse was pounding in his ears, the beat of his heart seeming to increase ten-fold. The wide, exuberant smile adorning his dark lips gave way to his genuine eagerness and excitement, and he quivered in anticipation.

“Good luck, my darling wife.” Wife. His eyes sought out Eulalie’s pools of warm, loving brown, and he drowned in her stare. You are that and so much more.

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No man was ever wise by chance.

Somnus was no warrior, despite his tactical prowess in battle. Had he seen war? Yes. The fires of Vhallen and the scent of innocent blood staining marble still woke him from his most disquieting of nightmares. No. Despite his lack of skills on the battlefield, he understood war almost intimately. He understood the way that adrenaline coursed through the blood, causing the heart to thump wildly within the chest. He understood the need for rapid-fire communication between mind and body, the need to make a snap decision and stick to it for better or worse. He understood, and that was perhaps one of the reasons why he was here. Standing here at the Bellum Steppe across from Eulalie was no war, but it was a battle. They were not here with the desire to harm or draw blood, but to ensure that they both knew how to protect themselves should war ever come knocking on their doorstep.

Breathing in deeply, Somnus allowed the crisp air to filter into his lungs, enjoying the calm before the storm. Would there be a storm? Not quite. They were not here for storms of rage and prowess. ‘Love’ was the ultimate motivator in this spar. Others might not understand, but he didn’t give it much thought. Emerald eyes closed but for a moment, relishing in the feel of the cool air brushing against his quivering skin. Was it from the cold, or from anticipation?

Regardless, the dunalino’s gaze slid open slowly, his eyes taking only a second to focus on the ivory form of his beloved, her golden tresses swaying like a halo in the breeze. Eulalie stood there only paces away, standing like a glittering beacon, and his eyes roamed her every feature. For appreciation, yes, because he could honestly never get enough of her beauty and wonder, smitten with the freckles that dotted her cheeks, but mostly to size her up.

They stood nearly identical in height, their bodies remarkably similar despite the fact that Somnus carried a far more ‘sturdy’ type of build. Neither one of them carried cumbersome bulk to slow down their movements, and Eulalie’s legs were straight and nimble, able to carry her across the grounds as fluidly as his wings could carry him through the skies. On the ground at first glance, they were practically tied… But Somnus had his wings, and his horn. The latter was a weapon that he had been born with, a sharp end that could be used for stabbing and maiming, but never in his right mind would he even fathom turning such an organic weapon upon the mother of his children and the keeper of his heart.

No. For this fight, Somnus would remain grounded. There would be no reason to attempt an aerial advantage. Just as well, he would exhibit caution to keep the sharp point of his horn well away from Eulalie’s soft skin.

Ever so faintly did his wings lower and relax, curling back to sit comfortably against his sides. The dunalino’s golden shoulders rolled back, his eyes rooted upon Eulalie’s form, waiting, anticipating… But it seemed that he did not have to wait long. Like a streak of lightning she took off, pushing off of the pock-marked earth to cross the distance between them. Immediately fear blossomed within Somnus’ breath, causing his breath to hitch and mouth to part, terrified that she might sprain a fetlock or trip upon such difficult, uneven terrain.

Eulalie’s grace could not be faked, however, her steps confident and true and like an angel she glided over the rough terrain of the battle-scarred Steppe. Somnus’ eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching, but he did not try to move away or balk from whatever she intended. Whatever came his way, he would take it. Ears pinned back flat against wild strands of alabaster, the Dawn King braced himself, his expression fierce, determined, and proud. So proud.

He watched as Eulalie suddenly halted, her hind legs tucked beneath round haunches as dirt and rubble were kicked up every which way. The chilly winter breeze carried the dust and dirt through the air to rain down upon him, chunks of both pelting his skin and a rock striking him upon the upper lip, but he paid it no mind. Eulalie’s hind end swung wide around to face him, and bracing herself upon her front legs, she kicked out with her hind legs back at him.

Somnus took a step back to brace himself and tossed his head into the air, jaw upright and nose pointed towards the skies to avoid the blow. One of her hooves struck him upon the right breast, the blow holding a considerable amount of force behind it to momentarily knock the air from his chest. There was pain, yes, dull and sudden and mildly uncomfortable, but he could immediately tell that Eulalie was pulling her blows. The sharp edges of her hooves did not pierce skin or draw blood, the blow itself more a bludgeoning force that might bruise, but nothing of genuine concern.

Her words of flirtatious challenge danced along the breeze and met his ears, and Somnus, heart thumping wildly within his chest, grinned ruefully. He surely looked a mess; wild and carefree, ivory tresses and tumbled mess about his handsome face. Typically so poised and proper, it was terribly exhilarating to just let go.

Not pausing long enough to toss any words back at her, despite how much he bloody well wanted to, the Dawn King decided to act. Sometimes action was a far more reliable form of communication. Inhaling deeply, Somnus’ wings spread and snapped out to attention at his sides, mottled feathers of tan and white fanning wide. In a sweeping arc the dunalino lunged forward, letting his wings propel him forward in an attempt to catch Eulalie before she could dart off too far and out of reach. Taking note of the unsteady ground beneath his hooves, Somnus charged after her, the sound of wind rushing by his ears and the pounding of his very own pulse reverberating within his skull.

Eyes locked on the curve of Eulalie’s right hip, Somnus stretched his neck out, hooves thundering upon the earth as he did his best to keep pace with her and stay at her right side. Reaching out, the stallion attempted to snap forward and latch his teeth upon the skin of her right side or snatch the flesh of her right hip. Whether he succeeded or not, Somnus stumbled to a halt, hooves scrabbling and scraping against uneven, hole-ridden earth, tripping once or twice but not enough to send him off balance.

Wind tousled hair billowed around his frame and Somnus laughed, hearty and loud. Oh, but it had been such a long time since he had felt so alive! Emerald eyes glittered in the sunlight, rooted upon Eulalie’s veil of ivory and golden wonder. No words were needed, not when his expression spoke so earnestly for him;

’I love you.’

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No man was ever wise by chance.

Breathing in deep lungfuls of the crisp winter air to catch his breath, Somnus felt himself settle. His wings folded in and rested against quivering golden flesh, the momentary burst of speed enough to wind him but not exhaust, and within seconds his pulse had settled and his breathing had slowed. His heart, however, continued to race, for there was rarely a time when he was in Eulalie’s presence that it did not.

Verdant eyes remained rooted upon his wife’s moving body, watching with a rueful grin as she did not stop, undaunted by the difficult terrain beneath their very hooves. Oh, there was a feeling of concern for her, a gentle thrum of worry that she might trip or sprain her fetlock. It was a foolish worry, of course. Eulalie was nothing but ferocity and grace, and he trusted that she would be fine.

Eulalie did not halt, instead crossing the ruined earth in great strides, but Somnus did not remain still. Instead he moved with her, the glittering emerald of his gaze rooted only upon her to watch and learn, to plan. As she loped around him, the sound of her hooves pounding against packed dirt and crushed, dead grass, he pivoted on his heel, turning towards the right to follow her. Closer and closer she circled, her golden tresses wild and free and a proclamation of her spirit so bright and earnest, so determined, but on the second pass around she made her move. Eulalie’s speed increased with a powerful stride and she skirted towards his exposed left flank, then pushed herself up onto her powerful haunches to kick out with her front hooves, rearing high into the air. It was impossible to miss the small quirk of her lips, the rueful grin that he knew oh so well.

Her hooves flashed like daggers, but Somnus knew that he was not in danger of such a wicked blade. Much like her last attack, Eulalie was holding back, doing her best to not strike to hurt. There might be some bruises and cuts at the end of it all, but as far as serious injuries went, there would not be any. None given on purpose, anyway.

The Dawn King did not move or shy away from her blow. Just as before he stood stalwart against it, stationary and bracing himself to take her weight onto himself so as not to be knocked off balance, allowing her hooves to come down hard upon his left flank and buffet against his hip and slip down his left side. It hurt in the same sense as before; a dull sort of radiating pain that spread from the initial points of impact. Perhaps they would bruise or welt, but they would draw no blood. He grit his teeth against her added weight, a soft ’oof!’ escaping his lips, but Somnus grit his teeth and shifted his hooves upon the dry earth, ears pinning back but for a single moment.

He had a plan.

Emerald eyes darted to try and catch his wife’s beautiful earthen eyes, grinning once more. Then, he acted, hoping the plan would work to his advantage. Turning towards her to hopefully catch her exposed chest before all four hooves were once more upon the ground, Somnus stepped into her space, hoping to crowd and knock her off balance with a good shoulder shove. He tucked his left wing close, the wing joint upon his shoulder raised only slightly to try and add a bit more force to his shove, and he gave a grunt of effort. Bracing himself, he heaved his body to the left, hoping that Eulalie would not move out of the way in time to avoid the move all together.

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