Archibald waited, readying himself for the lash of anger he predicted to stem from the sorceress. Archibald knew her, he knew of her pride and of her tongue, and he knew that he should never underestimate her. When her words came, they were hot and white against his skin. Were he any other being he might have flinched, taken the words and moved away with them. She had attacked a herd member, Phaedra, and had almost downed her companion. Those words sparked a flame to ignite within the Dauntless, for all he could feel was pride towards her. He was not angry with her actions, no, for if it were he in the position he would have done the same. The pride, however, mingled with the sense of belonging. She had almost killed Stella, and Loretta had demolished Fajira. The dark pair was more connected than he had believed before.

Her following words were ice against his skin, cooling and igniting a new range of passion and pride. The husky, mellow tone that lingered on every word pulled him closer to her, his body moving to engulf her presence. She called upon him, willed him to take what he wanted. But, the stallion was not taking anything. The matrimony between the pair would linger with them forever, tie them in a golden noose that could not be broken. Archibald rolled his lips over her back, massaging down her spine, nipping gently at her skin. His entirety tingled, body screaming to take further actions. Circe's body reacted, tail curling over her back. With a drunken half-smirk, Archibald shifted his behemoth frame, lifting on sore legs, and gave into desire.

The moments of bliss soon faded and the black stallion removed his weight from the shadowmere. Rolling his shoulders, Archibald shook out his body before moving to meet Circe's eyes. "Do not fear." His words, quiet and yet bold, were a warning and a plea. The knight predicted that the mare's thoughts would travel to their lost daughter, their first progeny taken before her first step. He wished not for her to dwell on that pain, but for her to use it as motivation to protect whatever was the outcome of their meeting in this night.

Reaching out again, Archibald lifted his neck to curl over her's, and he pulled his chin down, hoping to pull the grey-blue mare in as close of an embrace as she would allow. He wanted to fit her under the curve of his neck, rest her against the muscle of his chest, bring her into the safety and protection that was his very essence. Closing his eyes, Archibald drank in her scent, drank in the moment of solace, before, on the horizon, small bursts of light erupted from the depths of nowhere.

The sun was rising.