"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
It didn’t seem possible. Every hope, every dream, of their family being together again was crushed beneath the reality. As Nerine slipped from her grasp, so did Lior and her children. The love was there, unfaded, but each of them dispersed and discovered new roots. Pain leaked into the fibers of her heart as she yearned for them to come together again. As her mind affirmed the improbability of it, her heart retained its optimism.
Taking a deep breath, Nayl knew that her heart’s wishes weren’t in vain.
They’ve returned.
All of them.
Castile’s is most prominent, spread across Beqanna much like the plague. It washed across her with a single breath. Only after searching did she take note of Isobell, then finally, Lior. My family, she wants to say, but her voice never makes it past her lips as she migrates south toward the island. The last stretch involves crossing the canal. This is a new place – surely not the Ischia that she visited multiple times – and as hesitant as she initially is, the scent of Castile is carried well enough on the wind to confirm that he – and Lior – are there.
Magic leaks from her own body and extends into the ocean tide. It groans at first, unwilling to bend to her, but with an extra push of resolution, it comes to life and contorts. With it arises both sand and rock until something near enough to the shape of a whale emerges. The rocks and sand provide a walkway onto the back, and once centered, it moves gracefully through the water toward the island. Salty air – so much like Nerine – billows her unruly locks as she stands looking down on the water’s turbulent surface until her ride diminishes in the shallows. The water rises to her knees as she walks the rest of the way to the beach. She doesn’t ask for permission, doesn’t wait to be greeted. Her senses are alive for the first time in years and nothing can stop her.
With hast, Nayl finds him, but he isn’t as she remembers. Uncertain, hesitating, she stares at him for a long moment until finding her voice to ask, ”Lior?” He is no longer shrouded in black with intense silver eyes to watch her.
But his gaze is actually the same, just with a different color to compliment the gun metal of his skin.
No where in this world or the next would he never be able to feel the beat of her steady heart.
Castile, a find boy, has grown tall and strong with his father's steely resolve and his mother's fiery blood. Lior is incredibly proud of his first born. Isobell, his little girl forever and always, is off with her kelpie spouse just south of here (he would pay a much needed visit soon). The other girls, Mist and Valera, were not far off as Lior had called them home now. Only one thing had been missing...
She is a striking image of beauty, no...more beautiful, just as when he had first laid shy eyes upon her. An image of strength and desire wrapped so perfect up in a goddess' body that pulled at every fiber of his making. There was nothing he would not do for his queen. Hunt, slaughter, or war were not something unfeasible at the whim of the painted mare that he would not pursue.
And now his silver-white eyes are blessed by her flawless features, calling him 'her love' and speaking of missing him. The man waits for not a moment longer before he has swept her up against the curl of his larger body to encompass her tightly with his bulk and pressing fevered kisses against her cheeks, lashes and lips. He is hungry, ravenous for her nearness, but he won't apologize for it...but he would apologize for his absence.
"My love, my Queen, I am sorry I have been gone." The words are a rumble of distant thunder that he captures against the curve of her jaw. He knows he should be more careful and more delicate but dammit it to hell and the heavens, he loved this woman and did not care if his rawness was distasteful.
Fuck them all.
Lior does not break away but instead drapes his head over the arch of the woman's neck to he may tuck his head close to the beat of her heated blood like a loyal hound, begging for her attention. He could not bear her to be from him any longer, and would prove his loyal as her guard still now and always.
Their love remains as immortal as they do. With each passing day, even in separation, it continues to grow, ever fierce and ever passionate. There hasn’t been a single day Lior did not cross her mind – his whereabouts, their children, their life – and she desperately yearned for the warmth and adoration of his touch. Never did she think love would find her. Her heart and soul thrived with work for a kingdom, too distracted to ever be a mother or wife, but then he found her. He broke her defensive wall and seeped into the open cracks of her heart until she realized what she had been missing. The first tender kiss, and embrace, immediately formed an addiction. Nayl cannot get enough of him.
Admittedly, she wanted to throw herself into his arms.
But he takes the lead and removes the slack between them, pulling her into his body.
Beautifully – so beautifully – Nayl folds into him, their curves complementing one another perfectly. She sighs softly into the burliness of his neck, savoring the heat that radiates from his body and cradles her. ”You are here now, and that’s what matters,” her reassurance is spoken on the most tender of tongues, betraying her fiery nature to instead convey the love she has for him. He, the dragon-shifter, has abated the Iron Queen, bent and reformed her in a way she never thought possible.
Breathing him in, Nayl replays their endless evenings together and the family they began. Castile and Isobell, Mist and Valera. Their brood is perfect in every way and forging their own paths. As much as she wants to help, to intervene and join forces with Castile in the distance, she doesn’t. It’s his move, his decision. He cannot rely on her always. And Isobell? She has borne them grandchildren and lives peacefully on the nearby island with Ivar. Proud would be an understatement for Nayl as words reach her ears of her children. All of them – all of this – began with Lior. A smile delicately brushes across her lips as her head just barely droops beneath Lior’s as he drapes himself across her. ”I love you so much,” she whispers into his chest, her eyes closing beneath the weight of his adoration.
