You haven't kissed anyone in awhile
to you, everything tastes like blood

it would have been easier to fade away. to simply be erased by time. to be forgotten. to be nothing. to die, alone; in an unmarked grave. where frozen flowers wilt in their forgotten decay. but that would have been a fate far too kind for the winter soldier. his life was never destined for softness. for tenderness. for a loving wife and children to follow.

in the end, he is left, alone. his shadow, and the ghostly scent of winterberries - the scent of his dead wife - the only thing he keeps.

as riven climbs the peaks of illyria - his knuckles, bloodied and bruised - riven imagines avaneira running up ahead of him. he remembers his wicked she-wolf. his wife with fur the color of winter, running like a huntress through the snow. flinging her deadly, silver arrows against the flesh of moonlight. one of those arrows would have struck his heart, brutally. a mortal wound. for although avaneira is now long gone, it is only the memory of avaneira, now, that keeps the soldier, sane. that keeps his wrath, tempered; muzzled.

leashed.

it's the only thing left that keeps his heart, beating.

alive. in memory of her.

so he turns to the only home he's got left. illyria. when he walks through their icy corridors, now, he can all but taste his phantom blood coloring the pristine, ivory earth below his feet. all that blood that morrigan had pulled, ripped, torn out of him. crimson ribbon, after crimson ribbon, the greyflood monarch had been relentless in her brutality. and while there was no hate in morrigan that fateful night, he still remembers the hatred of her daughters. the ire of her people.

perhaps, he's left with bravery now. bravery, or unspeakable foolishness. he returns to face the stormy winters of morrigan's kingdom, now. not to take over, this time. but to heel. to submit. to kneel at her altar. a rabid hound, with a spectral collar, dutifully, worn. tall, criminal, and athletic, his muscular frame surges through the endless mounds of snow, the spray of vibrant indigo saturating the midnight hour in so deep a black. wordlessly, riven treks forward. upon his back, he hauls a pile of deer furs.

pristine, flawless.

perfectly soft, perfectly skinned.

these were gifts for morrigan.

gifts to lay at her feet - her altar.

he thinks of all the ways he could explain his absense. hopefully, morrigan would show him a second mercy. a man of secrecy, of privacy, he needed the time alone to heal. he needed nature to soothe him, to lift his skeleton off the earth. he needed the moonlight through his hair, the ice in his blood, and the imagined whispers of avaneira to heal his tortured soul. his broken heart. his endless grieving. perhaps, morrigan would forgive him.

perhaps, she'd understand that he needed time alone in the wilderness to mourn. to grieve.

and if she didn't - he'd still wait whatever fate the gods would bestow upon him.

be it by her mercy, or by her wrath.

"morrigan," riven breathes. he calls out into the night. his voice steely. cold. emotionless. laced in silent reverence for the brutal queen of the mountain. he waits at her borders. he drops the furs upon the ground.

he hopes she'll accept his gifts. his tribute.


@Morrigan

table by ryuu

She has returned to her moonlight patrols with the absence of Isla's steadfast schedule, but she had come to find how much she'd missed the peace atop the mountain. She was not so far from the most often used entrance to the territory when the call came, sitting on a cold stone ledge looking out over the valley below. She did not see the approach of the one who called, but she recognized his voice and her dark rimmed ears turned with curiosity.

It had been some time since her old challenger had lingered in the Summit. Shaking the snow that had settled on her dark cloak, she turned toward her name, finding the ruby colored beast looking much as he had before, though his scars had healed up into lovely decorations against the red backdrop. A small smile would curl her own scarred lips as she looked to the carefully worked pelts he'd brought.

"Welcome home," she told him as if it had only be a mere few days since his absence, but in the Summit it might as well have been. So long as there were no betrayals in the interim, Morrigan would never hold anyone's loyalty hostage. @Riven

table by ferus, art by grav3wolf

You haven't kissed anyone in awhile
to you, everything tastes like blood

snowfall continues to decorate his battleworn features. the ivory plumes would leave his lips, those suspire streaming like thin rivers of pale smoke. in the darkness of winter, riven obediently waits for the queen to arrive. in truth, @Morrigan had broken him that day he had challenged for her snowy throne. and although she had done it, brutally - mercifully - the soldier is now left without his ego, his pride. even so, winter would always be his home. it was in his blood, carved of ice and brumal rivers. no one could beat that out of him. his love for the cold. and now, it's the same; his newfound respect for the illyrian queen, would be forever entwined with his love for winter.

finally, after what seemed like moments, his patience is rewarded. when the scent of morrigan finally teases his jaws, riven turns towards her approaching figure. her steps exude that same unnerving, feminine force as before, when he'd first fought her and exhanged blood. morrigan held such divine power, that words alone could not fully express. in the half-moonlight, she appeared both terrifying and beautiful.

"gifts. for you."

riven lowers his head, respectfully, as he pushes the deer pelts towards the queen's feet. they'd ruffle in the arctic winds, soft, luxurious furs brushed by his bloodied talons. his voice is still icy, cold, when he speaks to morrigan. avaneira's death had left riven a hollow man. a broken man. but he tries to show some kind of softness and respect for morrigan, even as he darkens his voice.

when riven straightens his posture, he hold morrigan's gaze, steadily. his one blue eye shone with a silent ferocity. this male ferocity is not one of ambition, anymore, but a steely will to obey her. he holds his voice when she speaks, nodding once as she welcomes him. something sparks inside riven's heart. it's a soft flame, but it's warmth, nonetheless. morrigan was the only one who ever saw his violence for what it truly, was: despair and loneliness.

i'm ready to serve you.

table by ryuu

Most other rulers, her own daughters especially, would have marked him a traitor forever, dismissed him as a snake in the grass. Morrigan herself had labeled Rainer the same, would never trust the man to step foot on Illyrian snow again for his arrogant insolence and intentions of tyranny. But, much the same as her mother seeing something more in Alaric had changed her views of him, knowing that her own sister's death, one she had witnessed herself, was the source of his rage... It was something she could understand.

There had always been a monster inside of Morrigan Greyflood, a beast straining at the least to take and rip and tear whatever she pleased. Yet love had calmed the dragon, soothed it by directing its fire toward their enemies, those who would seek to disrupt the hard-fought peace. Morrigan would never be a true creature of peace, but someone had to defend such things. She saw that in @Riven in that first meeting, saw past what others assumed to be blind ambition, saw the weapon that could be wielded.

And she intended to do so. "I'm glad you're back. Truly. Thank you," she told him, reaching out to stroke one of the pelts. The gifts made her feel unworthy, but it was something she had come to understand others sometimes needed of their Queen. "The rank of Lead Fighter is open and yours if you wish it," she would offer, knowing just how skilled he was in battle after all. She carried a few from him herself, though none so ghastly as the one that now wrapped around her throat. Her fatal wound.

table coding by ferus

You haven't kissed anyone in awhile
to you, everything tastes like blood

riven holds the queen's gaze, observing her quietly. he's relieved, in all truth - he feels like this could be his second chance at life. he had been wrong to challenge @Morrigan for her throne the first time around. perhaps, in this, their rage were alike; mindless, monstorous. but where morrigan found love, riven found emptiness. there was a void within riven, still, a harrowing ache. pain that time could not heal. losing avaneira had destroyed him.

"i still think of her. avaneira," he mumbles quietly after the queen has finished speaking, after the queen has done thanking him. he hangs his head low before the illyrian queen, looking to the snowy earth; the pale porcelain surface, where his blood had once stained. the woman's next set of words would take him completely by surprise, however. riven tries to hide his surprise, but his ears perk up, nonetheless, secretly hopeful that he might yet find purpose in his life. when morrigan offers him a rank, riven smiles. it's a soft smile, one that's genuine and almost heartfelt.

"thank you, morrigan. i accept." he nods, quietly, stepping across the furs. he would seek to make his leave, but only if morrigan will release him. until then, he hangs around, his voice humble, quiet and genuine. "i'd be an honour to serve you. i will try to do my best."

table by ryuu

At the sound of her sister's name, Morrigan's face showed a more somber expression. In many ways, Avaneira had been Morrigan's other half, both everything the other was and what they weren't. There would always be a hole in her heart for her sole lifelong companion, the only one she had never been separated from for more than a weeks before she'd found this place. "So do I. She helped build this kingdom. I see her everywhere here," she admitted.

She held many regrets, but the time she would never get to spend with her sister, it was a bleeding wound. She nodded in acceptance as he took the offered rank, "Serve the Summit, protect those within as I do and you will have done perfectly. I ask no more than that. Shall we?" she took a half-turn step toward the interior of the kingdom, where the dens lay, several of which had been dug out by the Greyflood sisters themselves. She didn't know if he'd lingered long enough to choose a den last time, but she knew the warmest ones. exit via fade/talking

table coding by ferus

You haven't kissed anyone in awhile
to you, everything tastes like blood

they share this moment of intimacy, this moment of peace, and riven feels a strange sensation wash over him. having someone to talk about avaneira with was helping him, and he could only stare with slightly wide eyes at the realization that he could possibly belong somewhere, finally. he had wandered so far in his life, drifted so far in his path, that he thought he had been lost. he had only his gratitude to give, when the ice queen accepts him into their fold. this time, he vowed to do right by morrigan, to do right by avaneira. wordlessly, he would listen to the rest of morrigan's words, remaining quiet, following her as she continued on. he's home, atlast. i'm home.

exit with morrigan

table by ryuu