You

Dearest Kjarr,

As the one most likely to read these letters (even though you said you wouldn’t), and the one who shares my soul, it makes the most sense to write to you. My darling, I am not Muninn or Prisca, or the Princess – I am no prophet, but I see. I have watched as you have shifted. I see the impact of language on you. It’s not my place to tell the mother of your child that she needs to find a new name for you, but…

You are not grumpy. You’re not grouchy. Not the way she thinks you are. You’re not (always) angry. My love, you are considered and practiced. You’re caring and protective and stressed. You’re quiet and intense and powerful and daring and passionate and there are thousands of words I could use for you. If Annabella can’t see that, even half of it…

I fell in love with the man you are. Fate…Destiny…whatever…we could have been enemies instead of lovers. I fell instead. The passionate, creative, thoughtful man I fell in love with is mine, and I will cling to his Wolf’s heart with all that I am. I shed tears when we argue, I feel pain when you hurt, but I’d die a thousand deaths, sentence the mortal and fae realms both to extinction before I could allow you to lose yourself in Destiny. Yes, I shed tears, but you make them shine on my cheeks in the light of your love.

The suspicion – the doubt – of a queen is nothing to the purity of your effect on me. The fae may fear you. Let them. Let them fear the power you give their princess. Let them fear the love she gives you in return.

Only those who dream of a perfect future are grumpy when presented with the imperfect present.

Renée.