The night following the raid was surprisingly quiet compared to the clashing and gnashing of fangs and claws that had been the sounds of the day. Ember had quite enjoyed the spectacle and getting to watch the Hemlock wolves at work against the Raiders. It had been an enlightening experience to be sure, but it also highlighted some of the areas of opportunity she could help hone the Hemlock fighters on. She'd watched as the first five fighters of Hemlock were thrashed, including her dear viking prince. Watching Erik get trounced by the massive Raider had been a disappointment, Ember recalling how she'd watched Erik get thrown from atop his foe to the ground. While she was sure his pride was more bruised than anything, she knew how bitter the taste of defeat and disappointment were, so she made it her mission to make sure her mountain man wasn't too beaten up over his scathing loss.

Trudging up through the snow along the mountain paths to the peaks, Ember made her way up, up, up the Fenrir Mountains with her bag around her body, following a combination of directions from the other Hemlock wolves and the lingering scent of Erik to find his hideaway. The bastard prince's den was high on the mountain, facing the northeast towards the sea. Gods damn, did Erik make this climb and descent every single day?! No wonder he was so fucking shredded; this was a workout on its own! The night was cold and the wind whipped around the mountain, bringing with it fresh flurries of snow. Em pulled her cloak tighter around herself as she neared the top, rounding a bend in the path and finding Erik's scent stronger here. Up ahead she spotted a cave with a light spilling out from around some thick fur coverings. That had to be it!

With renewed vigor, Ember pushed through the snow and wind, gritting her teeth and squinting against the gale until she made it to the mouth of the den. Ember all but stumbled inside with a sigh of relief, pushing past the furs and making sure they were shutting out the cold before shaking the snow from her fur and cloak. "Knock knock! Oh mountain man, your best friend in the whole wide world is here with some pick-me-ups! Oh, and I'm coming in whether you like it or not because it's fucking cold outside!" Ember called out, stepping gracefully from the mouth of the den further inside, her bag clinking softly as glass knocked against glass. She was grateful for the surprising warmth inside, given by a lit brazier she saw just ahead. Em walked slowly, studying the den that was still only partially moved into, the faint smell of tea leaves underneath the overwhelming smell of Erik everywhere. It very much felt like a brute's den.

"Ember Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

It had been a close fight, a brawl with someone Erik had known since they were just little. He didn't mind it the most, but his ego was well and truly bruised. A small laceration on his shoulder from a fall into the ice still stung-- he's used to it. The stinging doesn't bother him much, and he's got bigger things to focus on, now that he's back in his den. Sparsely decorated, though a few marks of his upbringing in Tojo filled the space. Smells of tea from his mother's garden mixed with the heat from the fire cheerfully crackling in the brazier. Bamboo scapes trying desperately to hold on through the winter sat beside them, though Erik was unsure how they'd fare through the coldest months. Otherwise, the space is relatively bare-- a hidey hole full of snacks and a nest of furs and blankets on the floor. Hell, he'd only just moved in, himself.

It's not until Ember comes pushing into the space that he realizes just how spartan it is. A princess in a den like this? Rarely does Erik give a damn what anyone thinks of him, but this... is different, okay? He knows it's not what she's used to. Until now, he'd been tinkering at some armor. Figuring that maybe, if he's going to be raiding for the pack, he should be properly protected. It's messy work, pine tar coating his claws. Reinforcing and boiling leather, it's work. Real work, but he's learning as he goes.

Right, Ember. Fuck. "Shit, commere," he grumbles, wrapping an arm around her and getting the girl out of the cold. Tugging the heavy hide closed behind her and blocking out as much of the cold as he can, drawing her deeper into the den. The soft clink of glass on glass leaves his ears flickering in the painted firelight, as he ushers her away from the chill. "'re you warm enough?" Adding another log to the fire, then leaning to blow on the coals. Encouraging it higher, brighter, filling the small space with light and heat.

Manners, right, manners. Sedna would kick his ass for it. "Tea?" Already moving to put water on, rummaging in barely unpacked tins. Black tea, green tea, cannabis-- with his throat, he drinks a lot of tea, okay? He'd learned how to soothe his own aches and pains, watching Ma and Fuji treat his quiet complaints for so long. Self sufficient, enough, not wanting to bother Hemlock's healers with his problems. Erik drags snacks out as well, something about hospitality being a core tenant of his father's beliefs. As for the bastard prince? He believes in doing what he can for his friends. For his... favorite pretty girl he liked kissing? More than that, but shhh. Those are thoughts for later.

"Erik"

She makes it no more than a few paces in from the door before Erik is up and coming towards her, his massive form quickly closing the gap to bring her inside into the warmth and shelter of his den. Ember smiled up at him, willingly let herself be led deeper inside with his arm around her. It's strangely comforting, feeling him beside her, around her. His overly concerned hospitality earns him an airy laugh from the Carpathian girl and a sweet smile flashed up toward him, stepping up beside the brazier to unclasp the brooch holding her cloak around her neck and slide the snow-soaked garment off her lithe body with a little wiggle and shimmy to dry by the fire. With the cloak gone, the necklace he gave her was now visible hanging low around her neck. She had worn it every day since he gave it to her. "I'm much better now, thank you," she replied, lingering by the brazier while he fed a fresh log into it to let the heat seep into her body and chase away the winter chill. Watching him while he worried himself silly over playing host to her. Em couldn't resist the lopsided smirk; he was very cute and amusing when he got like this.

The fire rose, adding more light and heat to the cozy den. It also allowed Ember a chance to admire Erik in the firelight, watching the way the dramatic shadows played on his rugged features, seeing how the crystals around his neck seemed to shine against the fire. It reminded her of when they snuck into the armory... when they'd shared their first kiss. Her cheeks warmed at the memory, but she didn't get a chance to dwell on it. Erik's rushing about again, offering her tea while putting a kettle on to boil. Em had to keep the giggle out of her voice when she replied, "I'll have some if you are. Whatever you're having, surprise me." The Hallows had a very limited selection of tea available, all acquired through trade. She was sure someone of Erik's background would be far more familiar with the intricacies of growing and producing top quality tea, so she left the choice in the paws of the expert.

While he was clambering about his den in an almost comedic fashion, Ember decided to take the time to get a look around his den. She had expected it to be somewhat sparse given that he'd only been in Hemlock a short time, but it still surprised her how men could be so content to live in a space so utilitarian and be happy with just a pile of furs on the ground. It reminded her of her brothers' rooms—all functionality. Erik had his bed, a nest of blankets and furs, some bamboo shoots trying their darnedest to grow near the warmth, and an impressive collection of what Ember assumed was his teas given the grassy and floral smells coming from the containers. A set of leather armor was pushed off to the side, half finished and clearly what he had been working on before her sudden intrusion. It was all very Erik, very much the hallmarks of her viking mountain man. Despite what he thought, Em quite liked the simple charm it had. It was a whole new world from what she'd grown up with, and the more time she spent out in wild lands and with Hemlock, the more she was growing to like the simplistic aesthetic of the mountainous wolves.

Ember turned back to find Erik and- oh, he was scrambling to pull out some snacks now for them. The display of awkward urgency to be a good host was so endearing and brought another smile to the fae's lips. "Hey, mountain man," she called out to him, moving over to her big, burly viking with smooth, graceful strides of long legs. She pulled him away so she could rest her dainty paws on his chest and lean up to plant a gentle kiss on her brute’s lips, wanting to distract him before he went manic trying to put together a small feast for them. That should snap him out of it. "You're very cute when you're flustered, but don't go crazy treating me like I'm royalty, okay? I'm happy just being here with you." Em lifted a paw to gingerly stroke his cheek before sliding back down to her paws to let him continue putting together their snacks and tea while she made her way over to his bed, ever so carefully removing her bag from around her neck to set on the floor with another clink of glass. "Besides, I brought some good stuff from back home that'll maybe help ease some of that ego bruising from today." And another something special for you... Em thought, her paw resting on her bag almost protectively that contained the promise she had made to him a year ago, a promise now finally kept.

"Ember Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

Surprise me, her words filled his head. Erik busies himself, pouring hot water over the mixture of herbs. Black tea and cannabis, something comforting, relaxing. It would be warm, not too medicinal, and with the addition of honey, tasty too. He balances the pair of cups, made from the preserved and hollowed hooves of moose, atop a tray where they can steep. With them, he pulls out dried meats, fresh elderberries. Snacks, and good ones at that, as he tried to distract from the butterflies in his stomach.

As she comes to meet him, leans up for a kiss, he can't help but smile. It's returned with enthusiasm, though he does bump into the low table that takes up much of the space in his den. Leaning into the tender touch, his own drifting to her waist, he's distracted from the task at hand for a long moment. Oops.

Pulling himself back together to finish the snacks, he speaks. "T'show hospitality is t'show," his brow furrows for a moment, trying to find the right word in the common language. When dad talked about anything religious, the words were always stuck in the mother tongue. "Reverence, fer th'gods. Somethin' 'bout how every traveler coul'be a god 'n disguise." Erik recites the words, teachings he'd heard his father speak to the pups over and over. There was no making up for time lost with the fallen viking king, just moving forward. It does nothing to soothe the complicated, bitter feelings that hung between a man and his bastard son.

Padding across, he sets down the tea and snacks, stretching out beside her on the bed. Languid and comfortable, despite the spartan conditions. "Th'good stuff?" His eyebrows lift, wiggle for just a moment. Around Ember, he's allowed to relax, at least to a degree. For as guarded as Erik is, there's some humor here, too. It comes out when he's comfortable, and only in the best of company. "It'll be differen' when I getta help," confidence in his gaze, in his smile. The way the firelight catches in his eyes and reflects from his crystals. There's a proud lineage, one that goes far, far past Víðarr. For as much as Erik is his mother's son, he's deeply viking, as well.

Carefully pushing one of the honeyed teacups toward Ember, Erik takes a sip of his own. It's warm, soothing, washing over him with a familiar weight. "'s a little medicinal, figured'y might be sore." A playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips, reaching out to nose at her cheek. Making sure everything is as it should be, and that she's alright. Erik is no healer, but he was raised by enough of them to know the basics. Gentle, tender is his touch, as it drags across her soft coat. "D'you want me to hang your bag?" He'd get up, she could stay comfy, it's only right.

"Erik"

While he prepared their drinks and snacks, Ember listened with rapt attention while Erik explained how hospitality was of vital importance to his family and customs. Showing reverence to the gods by being hospitable. The thought of the gods manifesting themselves as mortals was an abstract and bizarre concept for her to think about, but she supposed it made sense. Being kind to all guests in preparation for a god's visit. Ember shot a sly smirk to Erik, her braided tail swishing playfully behind her as she asked in a teasing voice, "Are you saying I might be a goddess in disguise, Erik? Maybe I am and I'm here to test you. Better be on your best behavior." She giggled and winked, enjoying the lessons on Erik's culture and family customs. It felt like she was really getting to see parts of him that nobody else did. She wanted to know everything she could about her bastard viking prince.

He brought their drinks over and looked keenly interested in the alcohol she had commandeered from the Hallows, earning him another light giggle from the Carpathian princess. She liked getting to see this more casual side of Erik come out. She knew of his struggles with himself; of being noble blood but denied the acceptance of his viking king father. She had made it her mission to make sure Erik knew how much he was worth, no matter what anyone else tried to say. She smiles, a lopsided little grin that she picked up from her father, when his confidence shines through in his vow that he'll be better the next go round. "Oh I have no doubt, my king of the mountain," she teased him, her tail flicking up to playfully bat at his hip.

Ember graciously took the cup of tea from him and took a slow sip, making a delighted little hum at the sweet, slightly herbal taste of his tea blend as it flowed over her tongue. Honey and cannabis undertoning the rich taste of black tea. Erik's remark about her being a bit sore earned him another knowing smirk from the fae who swatted at his hip with her tail again as he nosed her cheek. "Oh don't worry, I'm not too sore yet." A little double entendre to keep him enticed. Boys were so much fun to tease. She reached her own muzzle up to press a gentle kiss to the edge of his jaw. "The tea is lovely. Thank you, Erik." She's reveling in how he's touching her, how his digits are stroking through her groomed coat. He's always been so gentle with her, so different to how the world sees him. He's a marvel to her in all that he is.

Then he's asking to put her bag up for her and Ember knew it was time. She slipped the strap from over her neck and handed it to him. "No. I want you to open it." A simple instruction, one that would have life changing effects. When he did, inside he would find two bottles—the wine she had stolen from the Hallows, and a small glass bottle filled with a shimmering golden liquid. Ember set her teacup down and guided his paw with her own to the bottle of medicine. "There's a healer in the Hallows who specializes in everything about the Long Night... and the effects that stayed after it." She paused, letting her words sink in so he could realize what she was saying. "I told her about you—about your condition—and she poured all her research into making this. She said it might not remove the crystals completely, but it should fix the ones that are hurting you." Ember gently squeezed Erik's paw in hers, then left his on the bottle, peering up at him with hopeful blue eyes resolute. "I promised you I'd find a way to cure you." The promise she had made to him when they'd been pups and this had very much been a farfetched fantasy. She'd promised him a cure, and now she had delivered. It was up to him if he wanted to take the leap of faith.

"Ember Carpathius" | "Carpathian"

Erik can't hold back the grin that stretches his face, leaning into Ember's train of thought. The concepts from his father's tales are... perhaps a bit wild. Maybe laced with things that would keep the vikings, at least the children, on a path that wasn't entirely covered in blood. Still, there's comfort in them, as well. "'s it really a disguise, when y'look like y'do?" A glimmer in his eyes, though maybe it's just the flickering light from the brasier. Though the culture and customs hadn't always felt quite his own, they're the most comfort he has. At least he can pick and choose from the beliefs, in a way that the pups can't.

Settling, taking a ong sip of the tea... he does nearly choke at the idea of being called a king. The boy had never pulled rank, not properly. The name hadn't even been important, or he'd never been important enough to take it. He chases the stiffness from his bones, from his posture, relaxing into the teasing and taking it as much in stride as he's capable of. Still, as her words hover over the not yet of it all, there's a suggestive smirk that settles over his rough features. Resting his head down on her flank for just a moment, grinning. Unapologetic, even if the gesture is a bit forward, a bit possessive.

A deep hum in his throat, unable to remove the smile from his face as she places a kiss to his jaw. In return, Erik gently licks the space between her eyes, cheeky. Gentle, for once, as he rests beside her. He's capable of it, even if it's not as natural as he'd like it to be. Just for her. As with most things that rested between them, just for her. She's seen far more than he's allowed anyone else, the history between the pair far longer than it feels like their years should allow.

History that would keep writing itself, as he curiously opens her bag. Rummaging for a moment, carefully setting the bottle of wine on the bed between them. The Hallows and their wine making... this really was the good shit. Beside it is a bottle that's far more curious, one that feels warm and heavy in his grasp as he holds it up to the light. Swirling and golden, Erik's eyes going wide as Ember gives her explanation. His heart pounding in his chest, be it from her proximity or her promise.

"Em I--" Erik falters for a moment. For someone who's always chosen his words so carefully, out of necessity and habit, they fail him. Grasp still firm on the precious bottle, he leans in. Kisses the girl, with no desperation present-- just tenderness. Where words fall short, Erik can rely on actions. "I don't know how t'thank you." Pulling his gaze from the girl for only a moment, it returns to the bottle of glimmering liquid. No fear, only faith, as he uncorks it and presses it to his lips.

The boy wouldn't remember the flavor, after this. All he can taste are her lips, the tea, and the burning sensation that courses down his throat. Like liquid fire, stinging, scalding. It's enough to make him tremble, at first. He can only think to set the now empty vial down, head going foggy. The convulsions come next, rocking Erik to his core. As if he has no control over his body, over his system, over the searing that grips him. Collapsing back on the pallet of furs, trembling, unable to hold his head up for the moment. Something told him this would be the easiest part of things. It's as if the crystals within his throat were being dissolved, a process that would take on a mind of its own.

Erik's tolerance for pain was the stuff of legends-- had to be, in a condition like his. Even still, it feels like parts of him are being eaten from the inside out, pain like none he's felt before. Every bit of the boy shakes, though he fights to keep his head intact. Reaching for Ember, wordlessly, just trying to keep her close. It wasn't going to be easy, but nothing worth it ever was.

"Erik"

The moments spent with her viking prince were always easy. Ember never felt a pressure to be anyone but her truest self with Erik. It had been that way all their lives, from the moment they'd snuck up the mountain as pups. Erik was so wildly and unapologetically himself and it inspired Ember to be the same with him. She wasn't a Carpathian noble or a Hallows princess around him; she was just Ember—his Ember. Their teasing, they playful banter, their shared affections warmed her heart and made her pulse quicken whenever he graced her with his affection. Her father would've been so pissed if he knew she was sneaking alcohol up to a boy's room and cuddling with him on his bed, but hey, Em had always had her mother's rebellious streak in her. Blame her Fatalis genes.

Erik was so caught off guard by the miracle cure she had given to him. That was exactly the reaction Ember had been hoping for. She smiled, amused and encouraging. He's speechless, stunned. She'd just given him a new life in a bottle, of course she expected this response. How did one even wrap their head around a new start? Em gave him all the time he needed to comprehend what was being given, what was lying on the other side of a quick swig. And then he was kissing her and Em felt her blood turn to liquid fire in her veins. Her heart skipped and she hummed with happy surprise as she returned his tender kiss, a dainty paw stroking over his rugged jaw. He spoke once their lips parted and Ember just gave him a lopsided smile. "You don't have to thank me. I always keep my promises. But drinking that would be a good start."

There's no fear or hesitation in Erik as he downs the miracle medicine in one swallow, but in Ember there is a great worry that she keeps hidden. She had no doubt in Syanna's abilities, studies, and talents... but everything that revolved around the Long Night was ambiguous and uncertain. Syanna had warned her that there was no guarantee what sort of side effects the medicine might have. It could be totally innocuous, or it could kill its imbiber. Her best guess? Erik would be in for a rough ride as the medicine dissolved the crystals in his throat and melted them away from inside his body, leaving just the ones protruding from outside his flesh, turning them into little more than sharp appendages like his claws were. Making them a benefit instead of a handicap. Ember prayed to the gods that Syanna was right.

The effects of the medicine were instantaneous. As soon as Erik drank the golden liquid his body began to tremble, then convulse as his muscles fought against an unseen pain. Em's ears flattened back against her head, worry immediately evident on her face. She kept her hope and faith in Syanna's skills and medicine though. This had to work, it just had to. He collapses to the bed then, unspeaking, making these noises of struggle and pain and Ember is immediately at his side, resting her paws on his chest to hold onto him and to give him herself to hold onto. An anchor for him in this turbulent storm that ripped his body apart and rebuilt it stronger.

Her head leans down over his chest, cradling him, helping to keep his head steady as she reached up to caress his cheeks and jaw. "I've got you, Erik. I've got you. I'm here," she spoke to him, voice calm and soothing, hiding the worry to give him nothing but reassurance. "You're so strong, Erik. You're my mountain king. And you're gonna beat these crystals. Just hang on a bit longer, baby. You've got this." He was strong. He was her viking. He would survive this metamorphosis. And he would emerge from his den tonight stronger than ever.

"Ember" | "Carpathian"