The day had started off hot and humid, suffocating the northern woman who was struggling to get by even without the extra weight of her plump abdomen. She sought relief under the shade of a stone den, frequenting it more often than usual due to the heatwave peaking. The skies above were dark, pregnant with storm clouds that threatened to let loose thunder and lightning upon the poor souls of Amaryllis, but never quite bursting free.

The heat remained unquenchable, albeit the brimming monsoon. Erna was sprawled, until she felt series of sharp pain hijack her whole body. At first, she thought it would pass just like every other time. Today, however, the children were restless. They had sucked her dry from inside out and now they sought to conquer the outside world.

She growled at the painful contractions, but remained silent. Even now, faced with another painful challenge, she stubbornly refused to show herself vulnerable in front of anyone else. The next few hours were torture, thunder rolling outside in unison with her increasingly loud grunts. Cool fresh air finally entered through the opening of the cave, carrying the smell of rain along. Instinct forced her to push then, claws gripping the ground, fighting against the first babe as it claw it's way outside. She panted, bringing the mewling, slimy creature closer to clean, flipping it around, inspecting it with the gaze of a critic. Male, she panted as the newborn squealed loudly. He was healthy, strong and well-fed. She let it go, the tiny thing passing the very first test in his life.

Soon another came. This one was smaller, darker. She dragged it closer to her with a nonchalant tug of her paw, cleaning it like she did with the first whelp and scrutinized it too, looking for any disabilities, any weakness that will determine if he shall live or not. The boy was healthy, albeit smaller than his brother, and she let it waddle by its sibling. She had hoped it was over, but a third cub crawled out of her. Erna cleaned the light-furred babe, putting it to the test once again. Disappointment found her at the babe's gender and contemplated letting it soak outside in the storm, but feared that her husband will not be happy with her choice. Fortunately for the girl, she was healthy and so the bearish lioness set her to suckle beside her two siblings. The pain lingered, but thankfully there were no more others.

It was done but she knew that the next few weeks will be burdensome. Violet eyes watched the three bundles, the storm rolling outside in it's full strength. Two boys, one girl. She was pleased with the outcome, but she would've been far more pleased if all of her children were male. Mildly Erna wondered if Alaric will be happy with his new brood. Will he be disappointed that they were just three? Perhaps he won't like the female, perhaps he will fault Erna for giving birth to two tiny whelps and only one strong and healthy boy. She called out for @Alaric now, figuring that there was no point in dragging it out. Her anxiety about his verdict will only increase.

Those who knew him would have seen the change. Fortunately (or not?) there are few that know him well enough to see it. Alaric had been extra diligent, marking and re-marking the borders, patrolling his prideland with an almost manic attention to detail. Any indication of disturbance was thoroughly investigated, and he was by all appearances an excellent king.

It was the cubs, though, that drove him most. Erna being due any day had the man on edge, thrumming with equal parts excitement and concern. They were his first children in over a year (maybe two, now?) and though he would hardly smother them with love he was anticipating their arrival all the same.

Fitting, then, that they would come with the storm.

Instinct guided him to the den, jaws open to release soft chuffs, breathing in the heavy scent of blood and birthing fluids. Not death, and relief washed over him the same as any parent. Alaric had taken guard outside while Erna did her duty, certain she would be fine and well in the wake of their birth. If she wasn't… well, they didn’t exactly have a medic on hand…

When summoned he pressed in to her space without hesitation, all but ignoring her in order to assess the squirming bodies. He places a hunk of meat beside the mother, but his focus did not leave the cubs. Nose lowered to inspect them all in turn, rumbles of approval breaking the quiet of the den. For the girl? No more than a curled lip, but she would play her role just like the rest. There would be no future without a woman to bear cubs, after all.

Finally he looked to his wife and in an uncharacteristic move dropped a kiss to her forehead. This followed by a surprisingly gentle muzzle, before he drew himself back up and donned his icy mask. “They are strong and healthy. Good.” You’ve done good — the approval implied but not spoken, even as his gaze drops back to the cubs.

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus

The wheat shape of her husband appeared quicker than she had anticipated, which left the long-toothed mother wondering if he was standing outside all this time. Considering that this would be his first litter on Amaryllis land, she supposed he would be impatient to make sure of their well-being. The fact Erna was the woman carrying his firstborn was bestowing a sense of pride within her wretched heart, always enjoying when she was the first no matter the occasion.

A meaty chunk of venison hangs from his mouth as the new father places his offering in front of her. She sniffs the food, her stomach churning at the thought of eating right now, but tearing a piece off and swallowing it nonetheless. Chewing, she observed with a mild sense of anxiety within her breast as @Alaric inspected the whelps. First, the boys, who received grunts of approval, ( and making her heart flutter with joy albeit the exhaustion lingering ). Two strong future warriors to carry the Starke-Rike name. He was evidently displeased with the girl, or at least not as happy as with the boys, and Erna understood that completely. Her furrowed brows were the only indication of her dislike for the baby's gender, although the itch to end the girl's misery here and now returned in full strength.

The Ecrosian monarch moved at once, sparing a glance in Erna's direction, but what came next surprised her, to say the least. A wet tongue slid across her forehead in a warm kiss, her tired eyes shutting closed instinctively. There was little room for her to consider what had just happened before Alaric leaned to share an affectionate nuzzle with her. She felt a strange shudder crawl down her spine, an odd feeling pulling her away from the exhaustion and making her dark soul fly high. It was hardly anything she'd ever experienced before, ten times more addictive than the passionate moments they've shared so far. It hooked Erna right away.

Even as he pulled back, donning his stone-cold expression, she could still feel his touch. To say she felt appreciated would be an understatement. His words elated the Rike, giving way to gratification to blossom within her. All she'd done so far, fighting and supporting him, carrying his brood... was worth it. And at last, she was ready to do it all again. Even the highest regards from her family won't make her feel this way. This was a newfound feeling for her mate which bordered with obsession and love. "What will be their names?" She asked her King, giving him full reign to name the babes. To her, names weren't too important.

if he noticed the way she blossomed beneath his affections he did not acknowledge it, turning his full focus to the children that nursed at her belly. alaric lowered to his own stomach, nosing first the large boy, the one that looked most like his father. the firstborn, even if he did not know it yet, and the one the king marked as most worthy.

"luther," he bestowed the name with a possessiveness in his voice that surprised even him -- this boy would be the crowning jewel in his crown. large and strong and already bullying his siblings for the best teat; here was to be his heir.

the second boy, then -- smaller and coated more like his mother. alaric watches him for a moment, venomous eyes intent and prying. he eats, but he is easily pushed aside by his larger brother. "bruno," he finally gives, and it is not a fancy name but it fits him. brown, like his mother -- he would have much to prove to earn the king's true approval.

finally the girl. he looks at her only fleetingly, noting that she is almost vicious in her fight for a nipple. this is her saving grace, and the one thing that earns her the name -- "yrsa." for her bear-ish mother -- she of the snow coat. soft, but a force to be reckoned with under the right circumstances. a name her northern mother might appreciate, though as he looks to @Erna he expects that she will not exactly care.

"You will stay here," he commands, with a rumbling growl of warning, "until they are weaned." Alaric would not see the ocean hounds brought down upon his children.

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus

The bearish Rike twitched in discomfort as the babes pulled on her belly, struggling to reign over each other, ferocious and even more hungry than she'd anticipated. She watched them with a scowl, pleased to see them vicious, especially pleased that Alaric was here to witness that. @Alaric reached for the firstborn, nudging him with the tip of his marked muzzle. Luther, he decides. Erna could see him all grown now, his pale furs littered with battle scars - trophies of glorious wars won, a crown on her child's head... perhaps even the thorn crown of a Rike Jarl.

Next was the weaker male - Bruno. The only whelp that had a dark pelt, certainly taking after her own mocha furs. Erna had scrutinized him long enough already to know that he was not to be the Heir, but he will be a strong name to carry on Alaric's blood, or he will die trying to do so. Eira - a snowy girl, untamed and fighting her brothers for the best spot to suckle - she was certainly disappointing due to her gender, but there was a spark within her. The girl was healthy and if she learns fast she would make a great warrior, one who takes many Sigrun lives by tooth and claw.

The long-toothed mother gazes upon the bundles, all sorts of glorious fantasies spinning in her egocentric mind until Alaric pulls on her attention with his commanding tone laced with threat. She blinks once, then twice, not a droplet of her exhaustion remained now. Her dark heart wants to leap from its bone cage, thrumming wildly against her breast. Silence, first, and an empty expression. Then her brows furrow at once as the realization of his orders settles in. A mixture of confusion, anger, and sorrow twists her face. All three chains that once bound her were no longer stopping her but freedom was short-lived.

Her husband places new chains - made of gold this time - confining her in his tower. Whatever light at the end of the tunnel she'd seen had been close, but his royal darkness snuffed it out. Erna Rike was his prisoner now, her gargoyle wings clipped and a muzzle put around her mouth. How much longer must she suffer like a bear in a cage? First Eulalia bound her actions, stopping her from reaching glory. Then Odhgrimm, standing in her way. And now Alaric. "But —" she yelped like a cornered wolf. "I- I can't Alaric!" she yielded eye contact as quickly as she had made it, lowering her voice a tad, her eyes darting to anywhere but his venomous green. "Meine Familie! Was ist, wenn meine Familie mich braucht?" Instinctively she shifts to her mother tongue. A big part of her realized using the Rike as an excuse may be far-fetched, for they can come and go if they wished to see her urgently, but it was the only little straw she could grasp right now as she struggled to remain above the surface.

The newborns began to mew loudly, their deplorable little voices protesting their mother's movement as they struggled to regain a hold onto her tit. She glanced at them, pure hatred coursing through her veins, her scarred lips peeled in a snarl. Wasn't destroying her body not enough? Months after months they had sucked her dry. Now, finally, they've clawed their way out of her womb and the little vampires condemned her to weeks of imprisonment. She was cursed to remain here with them, staring at the same stone walls and mud outside for however long they weaned. Day after day listening to their wretched cries and caring for their useless bodies. She despised them, and she despised Alaric with a burning passion.

he didn't expect it to go well. alaric knew that his wife would appreciate the new rules he placed upon her, but he had had enough of her reckless behaviour. it was not only her she had to care for, and damned if he was going to be left a single father to the mewling babes.

"you will," he growls in short response to her protests, the bite in his tone looking to leave no room for argument. when she pulls the family card he all but rolls his eyes, having little patience for her pathetic grasping for straws. "Wenn sie dich brauchen, werden sie kommen, sie wissen, wo du bist." if they need you they will come, they know where you are. in the meantime he would not see her bring the entire force of the Sigrun army down on their heads. too many knew who and where she was that it was already dangerous, and alaric would not see his children pay the price.

Nor her if he was being entirely honest with himself. Not yet.

"The Mire is your home and you will make it such," another warning growl, moving closer, towering over his wife. and when she looks to their cubs with venom and curled lips a snarl bursts from his throat in response. in a swift move he is above her, teeth bared and seeking to snap shut on the back of her neck. alaric seeks to push her head down, to force her to submit to his demands and his crown.

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus

"If they need you..."

But she knew her family won't need her. Not now, not ever. She was always desperately fighting for their approval, for Eulalia's approval, and now for Odhgrimm's approval. The anger that burned inside her was now spawned from a different flame; a flame of pain that constantly burned, a reminder that she will never be truly appreciated by the Rike.

One would think that years of neglect would've turned her into an uncaring little soldier, but instead, she was growing more and more bitter. To her, she was always beneath everybody else, constantly attempting to claw her way out of the bottom of a metaphorical hole, but never quite getting there. Perhaps it was her lack of skill, perhaps it was the fact she'd been born a woman instead of a man. Perhaps it was simply her lesser intelligence or her emotional outbursts. Perhaps it was all of the above.

And just like she puts her life on the line only to prove herself in their eyes, she does so for @Alaric. Violence and obedience was the only form of attachment the bearish woman had ever known. You're useless, her mother had instilled this within her from a young age. You're useless, weak. You must fight tooth and nail if you want a place in this world. If you want to survive. And so she fought and obeyed her male siblings. Obeyed her husband.

The Mire wasn't her home. Erna Rike had no home. She would never let her roots grow, for she knew that roots only chained her further. But how much more can one be chained than this? She was a prisoner now and her children were her punishment. As if the lack of freedom wasn't enough.

In one fell swoop, Alaric is above her. Instinctively her ears slide to the sides of her skull, eyes shut closed, as his teeth grab onto her scruff. He pushes her down and she doesn't protest, only submits under him. There is not even a sight of the anger across her face. One eye opens to peer before her, into the emptiness of the open entrance. There is the vague thought of making a run for it, abandoning everything behind her. Fear overtakes her body, and she doesn't even dare to flinch under his greater weight. Escape? And where will she go? Without Alaric, without the Rike, she was just an empty vessel. She would have no purpose, no will to live.

a better man would have felt badly in the face of her reaction. a nicer man would have soothed her broken spirit with whispered affections and gentle kisses. alaric was not a good man, and he was definitely not a nice man. the brief affection he had showered her with had all but evaporated the minute she had shown anger towards their cubs.

"you will love them," he rumbled, with a warning in his tone, "and you will love me." sick and twisted, perverted even, as he releases his teeth and swipes his tongue across her neck. affection, with just enough of a scrape to remind her that it is not given without stipulations.

a rougher swipe of tongue, followed by a nibble near the back of her ear, thrilled by the way she cowed beneath him. fear and desire -- this is how he would tame her and keep her in line. and now he lays it on thick, with rough kisses and gentle bites trailing along her neck. "you will love me as i love you," words that carry no emotion, even as he feels the thump in his chest that tells him this is a dangerous game he plays. he dances too closely to the sun, and it would be too easy to burn up with her. "we will be a family," he murmured, as his bulk pressed against her, seeking to tame her with touch, "and we will be perfect."

you will be perfect -- and he does not even care that he will have to break her in order to remold her.

@Erna

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus

Love.

What does love matter? What good is it in the struggle & the chase? The bob-tailed beast was puzzled by his command, failing to understand how this feeling would aid him or their children. There was no deeper meaning to the feeling, for she'd never seen or felt it. She'd only peered towards its outer shell of this emotion, the rare moments when it had been on display around her. For a woman who had rarely received any kindness during her childhood, love was a mythical creature. A useless construct that foolhardy lions believe in, much like the Sigrun's fabricated god, to help them cope with their misfortune. Why would she willingly give in to these feelings that weakened one's mind and body, drove them to give up the fight? Fighting was the only way to survive, and she would never give up her life so easily.

Alaric releases his grip, freeing her of his hold. She lifted her head only slightly, undaring to move further. He plants kisses upon her bleeding nape, and she shivers at his cruel touch but remains mute. His teeth reach for her ear and Erna instinctively flinches if only for a second, before he nibbles onto it without drawing blood. She releases the breath she'd unknowingly held, laying calmly beneath him as he cleaned up the mess he'd made. His tongue is coarse and rough, making her new wounds sting with each kiss.

"You will love me as i love you," The long-toothed woman felt her heart skip, but was unable to pinpoint exactly why. This word again. This feeling again. She wants to lash out, to ask why he cared so much about this, but her fear kept her frozen and the pain against her neck was a constant reminder what could happen if she dared step out of line. "I'll break your leg," he had warned her just minutes ago. And still, beneath all that anger and fear she found some solace, which was a surprise even to herself. Perhaps if he loved her, she could use that to her advantage.

Maybe if he truly loved her, there was nothing to fear.

She would be shielded by his care for her, and he will not feel compelled to hurt her too badly. And they will be truly a perfect family.

And here was a prime example of how @Alaric was giving her leverage with his backhanded confession. She was never the type of woman to toy with feelings, simply because she lacked a good understanding of emotions. However, her husband's newfound weakness was laid out before her on a silver platter - she would be a fool not to take advantage of it in the future.

Perfection had a different meaning to the new mother, but she never questioned what it meant to him. She didn't want to know. All that mattered was here & now, and he was calming down now so it was pointless to prod the beast further.

alaric does not know of his missteps. he does not recognize the weapon he has handed her and cannot fathom that she might ever seek to wield it against him. from the perspective of the starke man he has her where he wants her -- and he will not hesitate to make true his threats if she steps out of line.

her silence is taken for acquiescence and the brute moves to lay behind her, to stretch his bulk along her backside. why did he want her to love him? it was another chain he sought to loop around her neck, another word he gives to manipulate her in to the doting wife and mother he wanted her to be. fierce, yes, but ready and waiting for his beck and call.

pressed against her he considers, briefly, reminding her that she is his in every sense of the word. his blood heats and he cannot stop the more affectionate kiss that he again drapes upon her flesh. his tongue drags over her shoulder, his gaze not on his wife but on the squalling babes. as their parents have settled they, too, seem more calm -- his eyes linger on the light coated male, the clear prize of the lot. "luther will be the strongest," he could tell even now, though his sister put up one heck of a fight. "this is our future, @Erna." a rumbling statement that holds just enough of a warning -- whether you like it or not.

after all, he had delivered her the pride and now they had more bodies for the fight against the ocean rats; what more could she want?

the thunder of the drums, dictates

image by yumpy, code by corvus