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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐄𝐒, all while the sun blinds through glass windows. Elowen nestles in closer against the heavily sleeping were-wyng, completely unphased by the war about to rage outside the palace walls.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Until, a knocking disturbs her from her sleep.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The noise hardly makes a sound against the wood, almost as if they didn't want to be heard. After last night, the were must know not to get in the way of their alpha and his mate. After their first round of mating, Morrow became extremely dominating, relentlessly so compared to their initial time. His stamina for her was unyielding, testing boundaries and contorting her so he could drive deeper. She hardly needs to move to know that she's sore down below.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Somehow, that same man cuddles next to her now, swaddling her in black wings, soundless in his dreams.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The knocking on his bedroom door comes again. She thought maybe Morrow would awaken due to his sensitive lycan hearing, but when next to her, he's asleep like a rock.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She strategically removes herself from his sheets, nearly tripping over her wobbly legs. On the floor, she manages to find his shirt, a fit that covers most of her frame to his much larger physique. The knocking persists, only this time, a little louder than before.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen swings the door open just a crack, only to find the unamused face of Thorn standing there with a platter of berries, oats, tea (most likely nightbloom) and to her surprise, powdered donuts.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I didn't want to do this, but someone insisted I give you breakfast," Thorn grumbles, then nods over his shoulder. There, eagerly waiting with an elated grin on her cheeks, stands Cordea. Next to her leaning against the wall is Arion, who shakes his head. He also didn't want to interrupt the newfound mates so early in the morning. "Because the hound has the blight and I'm immune, I have to be the one to deliver this."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Oh," Elowen blushes, peering between the corridor's occupants. "Um, thank you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea takes a step forward, still keeping her distance from the entryway. "How is Morrow? Is he alright? Gods, with the amount of noise both of you make I'm shocked you answered the door."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Arion groans. "Somedays, I hate how interconnected the pack is."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Although no mind-link connects them all, the were all seem to have a sixth sense for their alpha. They know how his moods will turn, and last night... well, most were would know Morrow experienced the pleasures of his true eternal partner for the first time.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's cheeks flush a raving red. "He's fine for now, but he's worried about the pack. Any word about the terrans?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"They haven't attacked yet," Thorn answers. "Arion's been monitoring their positions. He thinks they'll strike before the full moon, and I have to agree. Alistair's not exactly true to his word. Fucking dick of a man he is."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"And Ronyn?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Arion pushes himself from the wall and edges in closer. "Still held captive."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen nods her head. Somewhere in these next few days, Morrow will inquire about the war, despite his wolf's desire to catch up on lost mating. His first question will be about the safety of the pack. The second will be about Ronyn.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"If anything changes, don't hesitate to knock," Elowen chokes. "Morrow deserves to know, even if I have him a bit, um, distracted."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He needs that right now," Arion says. "If he's out of lives and has the blight, then he should spend it without having to worry about us. We can handle the terrans. It's not like it's the first time they've been a pain in our asses."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's just..." Ronyn, her mind runs. Morrow will certainly be devastated if his best friend fails to return.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The three in the corridor exchange mutual glances, each one of them burdened with sympathy. Even Thorn, a complete stranger to Ronyn, seems to understand his worth amongst the pack. Some way, somehow, they'll bring Ronyn back home.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea clears her throat, gesturing to the platter still in Thorn's hold. "I assume you didn't have the chance to discuss the possibility of conceiving pups, right?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Somehow, Elowen's cheeks pipe up even hotter. "I don't think we need to talk about this—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"We don't," Thorn sneers. "Just take this fucking platter of food so I can leave."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I just need to remind you that drinking a nightbloom tea reduces the chance of pregnancy," the beta adds. "And maybe give one to Morrow? It might help ease his dominant nature, unless you're really into that sort of thing, then by all means let him do his—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A blight-hand presses against the door pane above her head, slamming it closed before Elowen can snatch the breakfast platter from Thorn. A resonant growl wavers from behind her, followed by an enthralling kiss against her new perfectly swelled mate's mark.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Daggerish canines tease her pulse as his other hand sinks between her legs. He growls again, only this time, the note ties her into his submission. The sound pacifies her inner creature, all while sending pools of arousal down from her core against his investigative fingers. He presses his physique up against her own, ushering her up against his now-shut bedroom door. Muscles cage her, but all her body seems to hone on is the eager twitch of his rock-hard morning wood.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You're not supposed to be able to walk," he coos near her pointed ear. He runs a hand through her white feathered wings. "What could those fucks possibly want from my mate?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"They brought breakfast," Elowen pipes, distracted by the way his mouth returns back to her throat.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Don't need it."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You'll need to replenish your energy somehow. You're sick and—" Elowen yelps as he spins her around, her white wings flailing, so her spine presses against his door. "We need to eat something."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His lips curve, his naughty mind delivering images to her of what's to come. There's only one feast he wishes to gorge on, one taste he wishes to savour on his tongue. He'll indulge every drop of her he can wring until there's nothing left to take. But before he'll dine upon her, he needs to worship the woman he's claimed.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He hoists her up, lacing her legs around his torso so her ankles knot behind him. His cock drags against her wet folds, moving his body in tandem with hers, but never slipping inside her heat.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'll ravish you," he purrs, "but didn't I tell you not to fly away from me, sparrow? You weren't in my bed when I woke up, and that's where you belong."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen huffs. "I didn't even leave the room."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Your snarky mouth needs a bit of a reminder," he says, the words hardly a warning of his next move.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎One moment, her mind grips onto the woes outside the walls, dolours of war and battle. The next, he slips his hardened length into her with ease, and her focus reroutes itself to him. She's swaddled in his strength and protection, a feeling she suddenly craves when it once was so foreign. With him, she finds comfort and unravels within minutes, her body knowing that this is how life is meant to be breathed. He's her heart and lungs, providing her a purpose for her blood flow and oxygen.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎With his name bracing her lips, she falls under his enchanted spell and returns back to a world of bliss.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 from the breakfast platter and places it on his lips, slowly, savouring every tang that tantalises his taste buds.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Have I worn you out yet?" he murmurs, his meadowed hues analysing her every movement.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎After Morrow mated with her against the bedroom door, she prayed that Thorn and the other two beta didn't stay. Fortunately, they disappeared out of the corridor, leaving behind the platter of nourishment just outside the door. The session of morning sex seemed to get a bit of Morrow's dominant wolf out of his system, allowing him to be more open to rebuilding his stamina. Now, the two lounge on twisted sheets, framed in the elegance of their feathered wings.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She hums as she places a raspberry on her tongue. "I bet everyone heard us from across Tabrien."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Then let them hear us." He eats another berry. "They should know that their alpha has chosen a mate."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A smile spreads across her lips. "I'm assuming you can't just send them all letters? Wouldn't that be less loud?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I could," his lips curve in a way that frames his face so handsomely. "I'll write 'I fucked Elowen' in bold."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Hey!"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Or you could write it, considering you only read fae filth. You could give them a detailed description of every orgasm I gave you last night."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm not doing that, and it's not filth. It's just romance," she corrects.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's better in real life," he says with a slight wiggle of his brows. "You shouldn't have to read one of those trashy books again."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When she gazes upon him, she gets lost in the twinkle in his meadowed eyes. She's never witnessed a shade so beautiful, and she's counting her stars that her days seeing them won't end so soon. Even now, as she watches Morrow seductively dip a strawberry into a pool of honey, she's aware of how the blight spreads upward through his veins. Yesterday, the disease only reached his forearms. The evidence now curls over his elbows, leaching ever closer to his head and heart.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Did they tell you anything this morning?" he asks the dreaded question.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"They did," she hums. "The terrans haven't invaded yet, but Arion believes that they'll come before the full moon."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"They will. They're pretty fucking predictable." He pauses, his brows furrowing. "What about Ronyn?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He's still with the terrans."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A growl erupts from deep within his chest, one of pure disapproval. Claws sharpen on his nails, and he digs them into the messy sheets just to get a hold of himself. It kills him knowing that Ronyn's in danger, tortured and locked in silver chains while he lays in bed next to his mate. It kills him more when there's nothing he can do but let someone else do the task.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen reaches across the minimal space between them, cupping his toned cheek. "You need to trust your betas. They have the fae and Thorn to help them."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I trusted them and look where that ended up."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She moves her hand from his cheek to behind his ear, giving him delicate scratches. The sound that leaves him comes out in a content purr.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A sucker for ear scratches, she smiles.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"We only have so much time until the blight starts to take over," Elowen whispers, her silver irises trailing down to his veins inked with darkness. "I want to enjoy this time with you, however limited it may be."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"But the pack..." he murmurs, losing his composure in her allure.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The pack is strong," she answers.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He closes his eyes, rolling over onto his spine so his majestic black wings splay beneath him. He reaches out for Elowen's waist, succumbing to her proximity and closeness, assisting her up aboard his hips. Instinct allows her to traces his scars with her fingertip, then trails her touch against stone muscle. She's always viewed him as a masterpiece, a fallen angel from above.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His voice growls down their bond with just a tug of their tether, luring her to him. Mate.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎In the moments that follow, she hardly thinks about how their days remain numbered. These days are about him, and she'll do whatever she can to make sure he finishes his days in peace.

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*

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒. Updates become minimal, sparse to her knowledge. The terrans haven't stormed the palace. Ronyn still remains trapped in their slimy hands. Yet, there she lies next to the were-wyng who's slowly decaying to the blight.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Today, his energy remains minimal. Walking becomes a chore, although he insists that he's fine whenever he decides to leave the bed. The bags under his green eyes speak of a thousand burdens, of pain and a failing body that's being eaten away. The blight now consumes his arms, and most of his legs, his veins turning to black as they slither towards his heart and skull, both still untouched by the disease. She reckons there's only a day or two left before he'll need to be sedated.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow dresses in low clung trousers, his black wings limp behind him as he nearly loses his footing.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Fuck!" he grits, bracing himself against his piano.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen catches him, helping him down to the piano bench. His limbs quake when he takes a seat, weighted by his own body. He can't even meet her gaze, because he's afraid of the pity he'll find. The blight makes him a mockery of his alpha duties, and he hates every minute he relies on Elowen for help. Yet, they are now bound mates, and she'll fight day and night to remain at his side.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She kisses his temple as he regains his lost breath, running her palms over his tensed shoulders. "It'll be alright."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's not alright!" he seethes. "I can't even walk to the bathroom to take a piss without losing my balance!"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Look at me," Elowen tilts his head towards her own, locking onto his tired meadowed hues. "It doesn't matter to me what the blight does to you, because you are not this disease. Even if you know it's going to win, you need to keep up your fight. The Morrow I know would never back down."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He swallows, his jaw clenched tight. "That doesn't change the fact that I'm about to fucking die."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His bitter demeanour only seems to grow. In bed, he's sufficed with Elowen by his side, but the moment his mind drifts to the dark chasms of reality, he becomes a wolf on edge. She's done enough to tame that volatile beast waiting on haunches beneath his skin.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen lifts the cover off the piano keys, shifting over on the bench made for two. Morrow adores music, but Elowen's had his attention occupied with his innate need for mating. He needs a flicker of time to do something he loves, a passion that's stayed strong through the mountains of time.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Can you play me a song?" she asks. "Any song?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He stares at the piano keys a little droopy eyed as if he might need a brief nap first. Even then, she's afraid he might never wake up. Out of curiosity, she weaves down their tether just to see what's on his mind, and she doesn't need to snoop far to find the answers she seeks.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He's begging for a way to reverse this all, to fix everything that's been broken. That young Morrow that his mother loved and believed in shouldn't deserve a fate as cruel and callous as surrendering to the blight. Yet, here he is. Dying ever so slowly.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow inhales with agonising heaviness, then settles his blight-tipped fingers against the keys.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He peers at his mate before he begins to play. "Close your eyes for this one."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen obeys, her eyes falling shut. He nuzzles the top of her head while a low rumbling growl curls from his lungs, a sound that lulls her next to his comforting heat. When he holds her full attention, the music that sways into her ears becomes a lullaby so incomparable to any other.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The notes dance through her, creating images through their mind-link, a painting with brush strokes controlled from the caverns of Morrow's thoughts. At the beginning, only intricate details come to her vision. Laced hands. Featherlight touches. Brisk kisses against a tapestry of scars. It's a vision of beauty, one of an alpha and luna that Tabrien will never get to witness. She sees a love that blossoms when the hourglass has run empty.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When their full bodies come into view, he unveils more of his deepest dreams. She recognizes their silhouettes—a frame of wings around their bodies. He cradles the large swell of her stomach, kissing her mate's mark as if that could protect her and the mother of his unborn child, a child he'll never meet, one that'll never be conceived.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The image tranforms as the note's to his piano begin to change. She's sitting in bed with her legs parted, midwives and physicians surrounding her as Morrow tightly clutches her hand. A whisper of his voice drips through, a soft 'you're almost there, sparrow' until one of the midwives removes a tiny newborn with the tiniest wings. He melts. She cries. Elowen clutches them against her chest, a smile spreading across her lips, but nothing compares to the joy that radiates from Morrow as he lays eyes upon his flesh and blood.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The music keeps playing. His visions and fantasies keep shifting of them and their little child. When Morrow's past has been so stricken with grief, it's impossible to envision him loving something so boundlessly, even if that child is nothing but fiction. He desires a family, an heir to carry the Killian name and rule over Tabrien.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When it all ends, tears stream down her cheeks, ones that match the own salty droplets cascading down his own. They mourn the loss of a life that'll never happen, of a world that won't ever possibly be.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎This bond between them only has days left until it breaks from his death. They should be happy. He should be at peace. But everything between them is so incomplete as it's only just begun.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎So together, they shed their tears for a life that can never be, for a child that'll never be, and for a love that can never grow.

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it was so hard to choose which morrowen scenes to include in this chapter, as i feel like it's just a compliation of different moments between them. maybe one day i'll give you more, but for now, we'll end this chapter on a more somber note.

once again, thank you for reading Sparrow! i've loved hearing your opinions and reading your comments and it really makes my day! i'm sorry for such slow updates, but summer is such a busy time for me. for now, enjoy this new little update!

ivy <3