Stian Bjørnes  as the Alpha Father - just needs a little more ink on his skin and silver in that blonde hair ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HIS pride's penitence was a winter unprepared but they lived.

His Father was right,

HE isn't ready.

He sacrifices for the pack,He bears Her weight with ease,

But Her tears and truth hold His guilt.

His Father sees the misery in Her eyes.

He knows He was wrong, admitting,

His Father was right.

HER heart's stigmata is knowing whom He had prepared with, 

knowing whom He loved first, 

Not Her, but her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In darkness so deep even wolf eyes can't unveil it,

He traces Her silk-wrapped form in their fur cocoon.

Each time He rises to feed Her and feed the fire,

Each time He feeds His need to touch more of Her.

In the dark, it feels right.

The bond between Them catching like cured wood.

No sight, just touch and the low sound of hunger.

Her sickening thought spoken, followed by silence, then His answers.

her... 

Always her...

All He did to HER in the dark, she showed Him, she told Him, 

He watched her, He wanted her... 

Not HER.

Salted cheeks and silence are Hers,

and just the screwing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The winter around Them is over But the cold night between Them lingers She knows no spring breeze can thaw Her heart His betrayal rises like the ice from the sea If only She could break through it and find the bounty beneath Then She could feast instead of starve 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh frail and withered Heart,

I have nothing to feed thee.

Thy sister organs can be nourished,

Stomach stretched and made full,

Lungs filled with breath,

But for thee, almost nothing,

Just the breeding is left.

Caged in cracking ribs

and sagging skin and breasts,

you know only pain because of her theft.

He feed another what was meant to fill thee.

In His heart, In His home, 

Even in His touch, she haunts me.

Can you still beat, oh battered heart,

shriveled and shrunken, 

in your sarcophagus of bone?

Your sister is full, the others draw breath,

but you, my vulnerable organ, are so near to death.

Trapped in His father's home by frozen winter's fury,

My voice chose to flee.

Would you go with it, would you be free,

if you weren't trapped here, 

caged inside of me?

~~~Bessa's Lament

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His First Hope, 

His First Kiss, 

His First Love,

To be His First Thought in the coming day, 

To be His Last Thought before the dark night,

All those first moments He wasted on her,

While She saved Her everything for Him. 

How She wishes to return to Her hope, 

To dream of Him longingly and with love,

To be without the taint of His truth.

He cannot give Her what she craves.

She is still starving...

FEED ME! She screams from Her withering heart. 

Love me... She whimpers, falling apart. 

As Her frail ribs crack, curling in, protectively useless.

His regretful hands are empty like Pandora's box. 

His Father's sage advice ignored at great price by them both.

Silence spreads between Them like a pox,

There is no cure left within Her,

Except forgiveness-purchased hope.

She doesn't want to pay and always says, "There's nothing left for us except the ..."