you're gonna face the world one day

It's a long, silent moment before Celeste replies. Maybe he'd caught her at a bad time, tucked in asleep with the pups. That would make sense. It was hard work, harder than he knew. What he had to say could wait, but Viðarr could take up watch outside her den all the same. When she appeared some moments later, the shadow already knew that she knew. He can see through the fake smile in a heartbeat-- Viðarr knows her better than that. "Come here, pyret. Come and sit with me." He offers a broad shoulder, sitting in the low afternoon light at the mouth of the den.

Usually a stoic creature, the emotion in Viðarr is unusually strong. "You know I love you as my own," he chased the tremble from his voice, hopefully before Celeste could catch it. "I am so proud of you. An incredible leader, a beautiful family, a thriving band, and you're a wonderful mother." Viðarr took a moment more to steady himself, not used to stringing quite this many words together. He will do what he can to look strong in this moment, but he feels. More than Viðarr typically lets on, he feels. "It is a blessing from the gods themselves that I can be a part of it."

The shadow would be asking himself why it was this hard, but he knows. He knows damn well why. "When I joined you in the desert, I was worried that they would not be able keep you safe. All so young, inexperienced. You have come so far, and they have too. All of them." Viðarr tipped his head, gesturing out at their little band grouped loosely in the Valley. "I would trust them with my life, and now I trust them with something more precious. I trust them with you." He is quiet for a long moment more, steadying his breathing in his chest. Viðarr realizes now that he should have anticipated this to be painful.

"The Trygg name is yours, if you would like it." The words were soft, and Viðarr does not make eye contact. Though he knows this conversation will make what comes next hurt more in the short term, in the long term the girl will always have a piece of him if she needs it. Even if they're far apart, there was the strength of a mighty northern army at her back. Strength to borrow, to lean on, just in the same way he offers his shoulder now. For now, Viðarr is quiet as he regroups for what comes next.

"Viðarr"