Finally, the man was home. Sven had been anticipating his return greatly, the adrenaline left over from his bout with @Nicolò never quite leaving his system completely. He'd tried to stay out of the way for a few hours, allowing the alpha to drink and eat his fill, to give him a moment of rest before the young Archer could wait no longer. His pale limbs consumed the ground beneath them as his pale eyes sought Renier's tawny pelt, his heart thrumming steadily and strongly within his chest.
This was it. This would be the moment that would decide so much, and for so many. His faltered confidence from the incident with @Bojack had been restored by his triumph, but now his stomach was crowded by sharp-winged butterflies once more. If he truly was able to achieve this, he couldn't back down, couldn't just be another tally on the wall of kings with rubber crowns. This would be final, he would not be allowed mistakes. Was he really ready for that?
The Lyall came into view, and Sven took a steadying breath before lifting his chin.
"Renier," he called out, "Can we talk?"