Take back what's rightfully ours.

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"What signs do they need to look for?" Gunmar asked.

"Is it something to be concerned about?" Gunmar asked sharply, feeling that as a bonemender, Ingrid would warn him if it was worrisome.

Gunmar found his thoughts wandering back to Margie, and the flight they shared together.....

"The birth of my sons." Gunmar proclaims, "Come. See the new princes."

"I don't think for a second he'd be willing to share the throne. It would be his by right. But if Bular lived, then they would be raised as his generals, or advisors...as it stands, we have two princes. But Decimaar can only have one heir." he closed his eye. "We must be certain of the child we choose to be the next king. His brother must be taught loyalty to him, so that he does not envy..."

"They will learn it all. Their history, the legends of old....About their fallen brother."

"If we are fortunate, they'll have my brawn and your brain." Gunmar stated.

Gunmar went to her side, settling into the bedfurs, he set a hand on Ingrid and fed heartstone energy into her, it was the rotten meat of the Darklands heartstone, but filtered through Gunmar, it was pure, and warm.

Gunmar appeared in the doorway. He watched Ingrid feed their young one, a look of astonishment on his face. He'd never fully get used to the idea of breastfeeding, he was astonished at how a body could arrange to nourish something as precious as a child.

He wriggled, pawing at his face. His grumpy little expression was a mirror of his fathers.

Absalom's eyes crack open and he peers up at his mother. He growls softly, as if to threaten whatever had driven her to tears.

"You'll see them again after they've been given some time to acclimate. They won't forget the mother of their heart." Gunmar reassured her.

"Children are resilient." He said in a low voice "Try not to take it to heart."

"Come back to see me, my friend." Gunmar held her muzzle and touched his forehead to her snout.