Night Falls at Dawn [Death Thread]

He’d known it was coming days ago. He’d held on as long as he could, cherished every moment with his family and pack, but all things must come to an end. He was ready. He had his regrets, of course. He’d leave without seeing his son again, or fulfilling several promised he’d made long ago. But it was time. He’d lived full and long.

He’d wakened early in the morning and, slowly, had climbed the path to the top of the hill, where his daughter’s tower would stand tall one day. He took his time – though he was certain this was his last day among the living, he still had plenty of hours left. He reflected with love upon the successes of his daughter, glad to have seen her first – hopefully of many – litter into the world.

Ardyn would be a strong king, and while he wished he could be there to see it, he knew he wasn’t needed anymore. He sat, meditating on the past, and what the future might bring for those he’d be leaving behind in his final rest, while the sun crested the horizon, painting his crimson fur in vibrant light. Pawsteps, several sets, tread behind him, came abreast, and he turned first to see Aurielle, concern and a horrible knowledge and acceptance in her eyes – eyes that were filling with unshed tears.

Then he turned, and found himself gazing down into Solveiga’s sky blue gaze. Love, regret, shame, peace. They beckoned, and he smiled. Then he looked up and into the fathomless sapphires of his grandmother, snow-bright fur glinting silver in the dawn. She was solemn, wise, and so gentle. There were other forms; his mother, father... Zuriel, Baine, Faite... and many others. They coaxed and reassured, and he was ready to follow them.

Regulus let out a soft sigh and settled, leaning into his daughter’s solid side as he murmured into her ear, voice a low, drowsily warm croon. "Beidh sé ceart go leor, a ghealach. Táim réidh, agus rinne mé mo shíocháin leis an domhan. Ná bí ag gol ar mo shon. Ceiliúradh a dhéanamh ar na hamanna maithe; an grá, an gáire. Táim an-bhródúil asat, Aurielle. Mar sin, chomh bródúil as."

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, tasting the freely flowing tears and buried his nose in her mane, breathing her in as he slowly let the sleep, and the dark take him, feeling the forms of his love and grandmother settling against his other side, drawing him close, even as his physical frame grew still. The last thing his ears took in was the choked, sobbing whisper from his daughter.

" Is breá liom tú, Da. Is breá liom tú..."