we all been called

Víðarr and Tenshi had decided it would be best to honor Valtiel's wishes, but it didn't come without concerns. There could still be infection lurking, lingering in the wounds that had healed. She was a proud creature (who among them on the mountain wasn't?), and Víðarr wouldn't put it past her to attempt to conceal any pain that still plagued her. The shadow knows the type. He recognizes parts of himself in her, and he feels responsible for the girl that had been attacked on their doorstep. Sent to them by the gods, though the reason still wasn't quite clear to him. Then, it's not his job to understand it. He knows it's not his job to understand it. All Víðarr had to do was trust them, because they'd already made their choices regardless.

Right, he still worried. The den she'd chosen was modest, if not downright meager. Víðarr had tasked some of the thralls with cleaning away the debris while Valtiel was out, knowing she wouldn't accept the help if she was present. With the pups and tending to his wife, he'd been able to give her the space to settle in. A few days, perhaps. Finally finding himself able to slip out, the viking king chose a window where he hoped Val's den would be empty. A coat made from reindeer, something warm and comfortable. He leaves it folded on the end of her bed, along with a bundle of teas that Tenshi had made up. He'd be quick to leave, not wanting to be too invasive.

"Víðarr"