Gideon was a selfish man and he couldn't be brought down before anyone. Except Chrysanthe. It killed him inside that she had trusted another with a rank that he so perfectly deserved, and yet he would say no such thing to her. It meant something to her to have family beside her and he had no reason to feel scorned he just did. To him Collision and Gideon were the story of the prince and the pauper. A curt grimace curled over his inky lips and a breathy sigh withdrew from his lips. Not only had he not made himself a reasonable king at her side he hadn't even been able to give her children--his children, and for that he abhorred himself. Maybe it was his fault she had not yet conceived. Did it hurt? Knowing that all of her siblings had multiple children (or litters) and she had none of that? Did it kill her inside? Was she certain she had made the right choice when she agreed to be his mate. Maybe it was time to let her go.

She missed him dearly. With every moment that she had to herself, whether she was taking a few minutes to rest or patrolling the borders with only the sound of the ocean to keep her company. Always, always she wanted him beside her - it had been that way since she met him. He supported her the best he could, and it was selfish of her - completely and utterly selfish for her to place Collision as Valhalla's king. She did not want him in harms way, she did not want anyone to see him and use him as a pawn, a crutch, a weakness for her... she did not want him stolen again. And so he would remain a member of Valhalla instead of the leader that he should have been. Yet she would wonder - was it enough for him? To be her husband, to be hers and hers alone? "Gideon?" As soon as the man's scent met her nose, she would call to him, hoping that he was close enough to hear her. "I know you hear me." She would smirk, her tail wagging gently behind her. If he couldn't hear her she would have just as much fun finding him. There was no reason for him to plague her mind like this anymore - they were home.

This new place wasn't something he should have been fearful of. It was unique and it had allowed everyone to let go of the bloodshed and death. Some things were more vivid than others. Chrysanthe's face, for example, was a constant reminder of what happened that day--and yet to him it only reminded him how strong the woman he loved actually was. She was remarkable good at what she did and he couldn't fake his arduous admiration for that. There was also the celebrated fact that though, yes, Valhalla had lost--Syrinx had defeated the Glaciem king. It was a marvelous feat. and everyone that had question Chrysanthe's brother was likely and very lost. There was no excuse for what had been done. Syrinx had pushed the to their limits and shown them what a leader was capable of, and while Gideon didn't like the way he looked at Chrysanthe (with hungry eyes) he knew the man was undefeated and he knew now that he had made a proverbial testament to everything he had stood for.Her voice hummed over the air and Gideon twisted his skull towards it. What was she doing? He listened to the second wave of words that curdled through the air and eventually he rose from where he was seeded and a breathy 'yowl' sounding roll of chords descended from his throat. He didn't have anything to say. Not while she wasn't there--her name wouldn't be spoken without publicity for it were the sweetest thing on his lips.

Gideon, speechless? How deep in thought her husband must have been for him not to answer her with words. With a small smile she would step toward, him, breaking past the endless green of Valhalla's jungle until she was seated at his side - where she belonged, and where he belonged as well. She would glance at him with her good eye, purposely sitting on his right side so that she could gaze at him with her left eye. "Gideon, you've been quiet." It was something that she couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine - the two of them growing apart. "Do you like our new home?" She had made the decision to move, but she had incorporated him in the first steps, he had been the first to see the island beside her after all. And finally she would ask the question that she didn't expect to be completely answered - but it would hang in the air regardless - she might as well let it fall off of her tongue. "Are you alright?" She couldn't help but worry, she wanted to be there for him, it was strange that now that she could be, constantly, she felt like some sort of rift had been formed. Hopefully she wasn't the cause of it.

Chrysanthe was a natural born leader and there was both a shard of envy and a premise of pride in watching her in the things she did. She enamored so many when she stood on her perches preaching to them and declaring things. He was proud of her in ways he couldn't quite express--perhaps ways that didn't needed to be told so simply. She wasn't just looking for someone to tell her she was doing a good job. She needed to be pushed. He waited until she came to him and she sat down beside him. There he immediately turned his head into her shoulder and pressed until his nose was touching the base of her neck. She was so simple and beautiful. A smirk embodied his lips and he whispered the simplest thing he could think as she questioned him; concerned, "I love you,". His words were soft and lacked the jest they normally did. Perhaps that was a basis to be scared, but at the moment it was nothing warranting her fear. "I don't have anything to be hurt about,"

His touch would calm her, it always did, quelled something deep within her and put her at peace. As he leaned against her she would sigh, her eyes slipping closed as she waited for his words. When they came, they were not what she expected - instead of words of explanation, instead of approval or disapproval of their home, he would say that he loved her. It caught her by surprise, and she would hum in approval. "I love you." She gently reply. It was immediate, there was no question about it, no hesitance, it was probably the one thing about the woman that was truly not changeable. "But that doesn't mean you aren't hurt." His words were so gentle, so smooth and sweet. Yet she would fear the moment, just slightly, because there was the lingering doubt that she had managed to hurt him. It was a crime in her eyes to do such. "You can tell me anything you know." Whether it was personal, or everyday musings that had no real answers about them, even his most nonsensical of thoughts could be shared - she would listen, even if it was only to hear the sound of his voice. "I love your voice too."

Absolution. That is what could be done for him because he knew he was a sinner and he knew he was wrong and he knew that in regards to her love he was a glutton. Selfish and raw and full of temper. She was his territory (while more that was the basis) and anyone who saw more than a leader in her deserved to burn in hell for their thoughts. He hated them--and hated the possibility that someone else could be making her happy. Someone else that wanted to warm her bed; and on nights where he knew he failed (for he had been so vacant of late) could he blame her for wanting to satiate her thirst? A sigh withdrew from his lips again and he stares at her with a darkened sense of passion clouding his judgement and with a look void of thought and of anything good. He would kill for her. He dreams of it. "Is there anyone else?" The meaning of his question is clear. Did she also love someone else. Was her heart something that was being tugged elsewhere?

Finally he would answer her, but his worries were not ones that she expected him to have. If this were any other moment, any other besides this quiet snippet with the sound of the shore in the distance and their voices barely breaking the silence yet so loud... and she would have thought he was joking. But she knew that he wasn't, that he was sharing with her something that had crossed his mind - something that he might even fear. Another man - how could he think such a thing? Had she done something, anything to make him feel insecure in her faith to him? For a moment she would hesitate, because if she had made him feel this way she wanted to fix it, to make it so that he would never have to ask this question again - because it was something of a double edged sword and could easily hurt them both. "No. Of course not - you are my one and only." The words sounded cheesy in her ears, but they were warm and soft and most importantly sincere. Even Themisto had not made her feel the way that Gideon did - he was a friend to her, close to her heart but he did not keep her heart. That was not his place despite how much he meant to her... but did thinking of him now mean that it could be a possibility? "I've never touched another." She had never thought to, never been compelled to. "Why do you ask?"

It would always be a fear of his that chrysanthe could fall to the desires of another as easily as she fell to the desires he had when he first saw her. She was a compilation of power and elegance and everything that he had selected mistresses for and he had to do easily admit that if she fell to that lifestyle he could not hold her accountable. He could not judge her. He could only love her from afar. Yet, she would assure him that her eyes were only on him and it were as though a massive weight was lifted from his shoulders. She was his and no one else was entitled to her. Had she ever thought about anyone else? That was a question worth asking but he was confident enough that nothing had happened that would change how they stood. He silently wondered if she ever doubted his devotion. He wouldn't have put blame to her. He shouldn't have had to ask, "possession. I don't like anyone else around you. It bothers me. It makes me confused. I can't be the only one that has eyes for you," no, she was too perfect for him to be the only one that looked at her with eyes of adoration. Even now how she bore her scars did she know it only made her look even better. It made her look like she fought for what she believed in. And she did too. That was the hardest thing to think about.?

He was right - he wasn't the only one that had his eyes on her. What surprised her, was that he was aware of that. Did he know that she had once wanted Demonio? That Themisto loved her? That she kept them both close even now, and cared for them as she did the few that she considered true friend. Yet they didn't hold a candle to Gideon - her husband, she had sworn herself to him and she wouldn't release him. As possessive as he was of her, she wondered whether she might be worse - because he seemed to love her enough to let her go... while she loved him too much to imagine herself without him. "I am yours, alone." She would reassure him, closing her eyes and shifting slightly to move closer to him, moving her head to nuzzle Gideon's cheek. "I've missed you." The feeling in her words, were those she had felt when he was gone - prisoner to Glaciem. They were what she felt when she had to distance herself somewhat to prepare for battle, she felt it when she was making her rounds after the siege as well. During the move, and then in their time here, he had been scarce. But she had been busy for so long - she believed it would be foolish to play the blame game with him now - they were finally alone together. "I always want you with me. You don't have to feel doubt, just stick a little closer to me. You'll see that you're the only one I have eyes for." He was her anchor, her constant, and although him being there was enough to keep her content, it was when he was with her that she was truly happy.

Chrysanthe vvery easily could have gotten anyone else and they would have been better than himself, in retrospect. Gideon was very well aware that he was not consitently constant and active in this life that she had built--but he was aiming to change that, and he hoped it was enough. A lazy smile tugged at his lips and the boy rolled his shoulders forward before pushing back into the touch she offered him. She missed him. She loved him. It was the doubt in his mind (the frenzy) that he needed to rid himself of. He had no fear when it came to her, and for him to actively think that; it was selfish. He lifted his lips into a curt grin and pressed his skull warmly down into the base of he throat, "I love you, Chrysanthe," the male cooed into the base of her neck and pulled himself off of the ground. There was more than just blatant friendship and love keeping them together. They were passionate and they were not what everyone else wanted. Epiphron likely wanted her sister with some noble man, and it was likely true that his own parents would have founded him with another wife or three. He hadn't really chosen much of anything--except she. Limbs had him standing on the ground and with a gentle nudge into her shoulder a nip towards her neck his affections became all the more implied. One of the perks for the boy was the physical aspect of their marriage (even before; albeit they being his darker days) and he immediately pointed out his obvious hunger for her: Begging that it be quelled.

She would hope, would pray that he would stay at her side - that she would see him more often, be able to lean on him the way that she wanted to. Yet she would not ask it of him further, would not beg - it was his choice, it always was. Although she was his alpha, could demand that he be a more active presence in her life or cast him out and leave them both despondent without each other - she never would. She loved him, oh how she loved the brute despite anything and everything. He had given up a life that perhaps would have been preferred to the one that he was living, but that had been nearly two years prior. And in that two years, she loved him not an increment less - it would seem there was little that he could do to stop her from adoring him more with each passing day. His love would be proclaimed once again, yet this time the words would slip from his lips in a smoother manner - more confident she hoped, that she would never leave him. Her season had come and gone - but that would not falter the craving for him that she had quietly hidden away. She would lean into his touch and a grin would spread over her lips as he nipped at her neck. Without warning she would pull away, letting her side brush against Gideon entirely, her tail sweeping past him as well before she turned to face him. Did he think he was the only one left wanting? There were times that she was left wondering whether she wanted him more. "I want you." She would respond to his words of endearment - after all, she had proclaimed her love only moments before.