The chill of the cave still lingered deep in his bones. No matter how much he warmed himself, he couldn’t shake the cold, no more than he could cast the glimmering crystals from his mind's eye. They’d shone brightly in the cavern walls, as he’d stood there, covered in foreign paints and dyes, prepared to bound his eternal soul with this stranger. ‘A bright future lay ahead,’ The Knight of the Stars had ruminated. But the twinkling gems had felt mocking.

His surprise had been sharp when they’d been announced as a couple. Growing up, he’d always had an idealistic impression of marriage. His parents had been so happy together — of course he wanted to recreate that. But now he was older, and the loss of his family was a scar that cut across everything. The ideal of a mate had corrupted into hope for a salve. And now it was here. Family. A loved one. Something to fill the hole in his heart. So why’d he still feel so empty?

The disapproval he’d seen in his wife’s face as they were wed had cut deeply. He had a vague desire to reach out to her, touch her, take comfort in her scent as they slept. Yet he dreaded the thought of sharing her nest tonight. He was disturbed by the relief he’d felt as she’d fled, a moment after their eyes locked for the first time as husband and wife.

But he had to face the inevitable. Half an hour after Sinkingsaturn had broken from his side, Wolfspeak emerged to meet her again, his large grey-brown body framed against the den entrance. And there he continued standing, as he searched for words to say to her. “Hey. You feelin’ ok?”

He’d vowed before the gods of life and death to value her, to protect her. And he had full intention of keeping those vows. But that could prove to be difficult. The cave had been cold, but nothing was colder than the distance between them.

Wolfspeak suddenly felt like he was put on the spot. This hadn’t been his idea anymore than it had been hers. Marriage as he knew it didn’t require terms and conditions, aside from the words they’d spoken in sight of the gods. “Our vows said… value and protect,” he meowed carefully. “I don’t... want anything more.” Of course, he’d appreciate more than that. Some warmth and intimacy would serve well, but he didn’t seem likely to receive that tonight.

The outburst didn’t surprise him. This wife of his wore her emotions on her shoulder, that much had become apparent quickly. Wolfspeak was more reserved and mellow by comparison, and difficult to provoke. ‘Someone like her?’ Aside from that face-value observation, he knew very little else. She was the highest pedigree of Seraph of course, descended from Winterclan nobility. But she had kept her secrets close to her chest since their betrothal. In fairness — he’d kept his silence as well. Likely all she knew about him was what was common knowledge to all the clan; the glimmer crystals in that damned cave that named his rank. He wondered if her resentment stemmed from being paired with someone with murkier ancestry.

“Look... I know you probably expected to marry someone with purer blood… but...” But what? I’ll do my best? He thought bitterly. Bloods what matters in this clan. And you can’t change yours. He glanced at his big black paws as his voice trailed off into cold silence. She wanted to be left alone, and he’d rather be anywhere else at the moment, but yet his paws remained rooted to the ground.

Was that what she thought he felt?

Wolfspeak was almost insulted by the assumption. He hated the caste system as much as anyone, and he wasn’t even treated half as badly as the tarnished or the disgraced snow caste.

He was proud of his heritage, and yet the clan and those damned glittering gemstones named him a mongrel, inherently lesser than the Bengal she-cat that stood before him. Only afforded the honor of marrying her because he listened to orders like a good little soldier, and carried enough drops of noble blood to make up the difference. Was he relieved his kits wouldn’t grow up in the face of discrimination? Of course. But to think he was a player in this prejudiced system was enough to ruffle his feathers.

His face kept it’s cool stoicism, but while his wife’s tone grew softer, his voice was hard as steel as he responded, “you have it all wrong. You’re not some object or vehicle for me.” A pause preceded his brow lowering, the first outward indication of emotion in the tom, as a sudden frustration flashed in him. “This isn’t some plot I hatched up. This is the gods’ doing.” What the gods saw between them was another matter.

The bitterness of it all rose into his throat. Here he stood, arguing with his bride on the honeymoon of their wedding. The words of the Knight of the Stars echoed again in his mind; ‘A bright future, a very bright future,’ he’d prophesied. It was a struggle to keep that faith.

He felt himself sinking back into a melancholy that fit him like a second coat. He would’ve been completely numb, save for the chill that ached his bones. The black mouth of the den entrance had been enticing — he’d never lost awareness of it — but now he felt it calling to him, whispering sweet words about the snowy mountain peaks beyond its threshold. He wanted nothing more than to leave this room, to take solitude in the wilds, to be alone and unfeeling. But some strange sense of duty kept him rooted to the ground, solid as a pine tree.

“We’re not mates. We’re married.” The latter carried much weightier implications, and included a third-party; the gods themselves. Not gods he’d grown up worshipping, but ones he’d adopted when Winterclan became his home. As it had been the home of his beloved mother before him. “We read vows. You said the words. Didn’t they mean anything to you?”

He had had his own quarrels with the gods in the past; a sense of defenselessness to their whims was a sentiment he could relate to. But they were still his gods. He wasn’t the most pious cat in the clan, but his words were sanctified when he addressed them. It was horrifying to think she would perjure herself.

Her great fury melted before the impassable wall of ice that was his being; he barely registered her loaded ‘someone like you,’ comment. Her slings rolled off him like water. Love? Love wasn’t part of the equation at the moment. Duty and dignity were his priority.

“What then?” he asked softly. Were they supposed to treat each other like strangers? 

Those last words she spoke sent a sharp pang through him — because he could sense the hurt there, and because he could feel their truth within himself. But she didn’t need his pity right now, and he was feeling too weary to give it.

“I value you because you’re my wife,” his mew was nothing more than a whisper. Yes, the logic was circular, but there was nothing straightforward when it came to the gods. It’s sacred, he thought.

“But I’ll do as you wish.” He didn’t like it at all. What would the clan think? A husband and wife that didn’t share a nest, that didn’t share tongues around a meal. That didn’t so much as look at each other? It felt like a slight to the gods. But he was only bound by what he had said, and he never vowed to keep by her side at all hours of the day. She could have it her way.

He moved to leave, but paused to look at her once more, his blue gaze forlorn. “Are we done here?”

[ I was thinking we could either 1) have wolf leave and meet silver within this thread 2) put this thread on ice and start a new thread for silver or 3) do a lil time skip and have saturn and wolf keep interacting. What do you think? ]