My Favourite

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While it would have been correct to describe the moon goddess’s wedding as “elaborate” or “festive” or any other words dedicated to detailing extravagant affairs, no single set of headings would ever be enough to properly convey such an exuberant display of affluence.

For the rabbit’s part, it was hard to decide if the luxurious ceremony was for the sake of celebrating her own worthiness as a mate, or a show of power aimed at the rest of World 2; perhaps it was simply both at once, with the latter intended to highlight the former. Certainly, it raised the already-high Velodian opinion of their Empress quite considerably, with the space-bunnies viewing the grand gala as “appropriate treatment” of their much-adored Herald.

Much of the decoration was commissioned from Velodian craftworkers, showcasing the richness of the emergent culture, which were then further adorned with gifts sourced from the Empress’s own artisans in Lycia and Rampart. A broad swath of the city had been draped in glittering ornamentation, from the gates of the Herald’s temple all the way to the steps of the castle, transforming the major thoroughfare into an elongated fairgrounds. For an entire week, the strip was home to sumptuous feasts, musical performances, displays of acrobatics, games and contests of skill, and a thousand other entertainments and myriad delights. From midday till well into the night, the city and its guests reveled in merrymaking, raising toasts to the beneficent Empress and her divine bride.

Anyone who was anyone attended the festivities, with many prominent dignitaries hosted by invitation from either the Lord Governor or the Empress herself ⸻ and it wasn’t just NPCs that made a big deal of the event, either. A new subforum was created on the official message boards just to handle the volume of wedding threads, covering everything from missions given for the preparation of the city and smooth operation of the celebrations, to questions of what attire would be appropriate, lengthy explanations on how to enter as participants in the various contests, continuing all the way down to simple room-sharing arrangements for guild members looking to cut loose with their friends.

Really, it was more-telling of those who weren’t invited; a severe and wordless threat, the handful of player guilds that were barred from entry into Velody either reflected on their actions and quietly sought reform, or stubbornly advertised themselves as disgusting and shameful creatures ⸻ and it was no accident that the Iron Hand fell into the latter camp, suggesting that the Empress may have intended to reveal their villainy as the basis for some other endeavor.

Still, those who had participated in the liberation of Velody were appropriately welcomed, and the Claws of the Wolf themselves enjoyed a stay in the castle’s suites. For the nameless woman, it was a chance to thank them for their vested interest in her well-being, and to apologize for the awkward meeting in realspace. While neither the Herald nor her close guests saw the special treatment as a bribe per se, the “official” story regarding the “non-existence” of self-aware UltraCraft AI that the Claws were given was obviously intended as a concealing lie, which they were then expected to repeat publicly in order to protect the secrecy of digital personhood. Of course the wolves declined to share the exact details of how “Medeina” and her Beloved lived on both sides of the dimensional boundary, but they at least affirmed that the party was trusted enough to have even a partial understanding of the obfuscated truth. As devoted as Caper and the rest were to their patron, they were more than willing to let the matter fade comfortably into the background; rewarding their service and dependability, Empress Bloodwolf named the party as reputable agents when introducing them to her daughter Nightstalker, the new Lady Rampart, with the expectation that the Claws could be relied-on for special missions in the Eastern Wilds.

On the actual day of the wedding proper, even the Dragon Queen made an appearance, broadcasting her wishes for the couple’s prosperity and happiness with the surprise attendance of Mordax ⸻ a move that confirmed the mate of the sun goddess was still a force to be reckoned with, and similarly outside the direct control of Empress Bloodwolf.

Of all the little scraps of theatre that Herdsplitter had treated her to, that dramatic pantomime was one of the Herald’s favorites.

 

---

 

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” the nameless woman asked, reclining in her heated bath back in her own chambers. While Carys wasn’t present to attend to her, Rose was doing an excellent job of filling-in for the titanic woman, carefully combing-out the rabbit’s shimmering platinum strands. “Babysitting me, I mean, either here or in realspace.”

“I would hardly call this ‘babysitting’,” Lacy scoffed from her place next to the Herald, lounging together with her just outside the bath. “For one, you’re older than I am, and your children are almost fully-grown themselves.”

“You know what I mean,” she said, rolling her eyes at the little cow’s insistence on being contrary; the bimbo’s distaste for the rabbit’s self-criticism had only grown stronger as they’d become ever closer. “It’s been over a year at this point, and yet I still need you to anchor me. Wouldn’t you rather be, like … ⸻ I don’t know. Hanging out with Caper and her girlfriend, or whatever.”

“Moonfang or Genevieve could serve the same role,” Lacey pointed out, reminding her girlfriend that any of the five Shadow Regalia custodians could behave as a touchstone to the rabbit’s “real” bodies. “I’m here with you because I want to be.”

“Sure,” the bunnygirl continued combatively, “but like, it has to wear on you, right? Putting up with me all the time.”

“I’m not ‘putting up with’ anything,” the petite girl insisted. “And besides, you can’t be certain that you don’t have it exactly backwards. Perhaps you’re simply a present from Empress Bloodwolf to her favourite concubine, as a pretty toy with which to entertain myself.”

The nameless woman could sense enough of Herdsplitter’s mirror to understand that the bimbo’s notion wasn’t that far off from the truth. In the wolf’s mind, they were gifts to each other, reminders of the Empress’s love and protection even in her absence ⸻ though that “protection” took wildly different forms between the two women.

“A toy?” the rabbit echoed, the corner of her mouth turning up into a smirk. “I suppose all the new kits running around the Den of Eternal Spring are proof-enough of how entertained you’ve been.”

“And they’re gifts for Her Majesty in return,” Lacey answered, matching her smile. “You know how much she enjoys spoiling the little ones.”

Of course, the bunnygirl’s visits to the imperial harem had so far been quite brief, consisting mainly of handing the Herald off to Genevieve whenever either of Lacey’s wolves had need of her and Moonfang couldn’t be found instead. The arrangement didn’t make her feel any less like an obligation, despite her lovers’ best attempts to dispel her concern, but at least they were distracting enough to keep her from pondering any unkind thoughts for very long.

After Lady Silvermane had taken over as Lord Governor a few weeks prior to the wedding, the former Intercessor no longer had any formal appointment. In a show of considerate generosity, as well as to prepare the Den for her bride, Empress Bloodwolf had taken Kariss as a concubine and offered a position to Genevieve as head of her harem’s security; certainly there was no safer place in the realm whenever Herdsplitter herself was present, but the addition of the swordmaster was both a kindness and insurance in the same measure, and likewise the services of the little priest were a great help in the everyday operation of the harem.

While the bunny-boy insisted that his status as concubine was strictly in pursuit of serving his mistress in her role as the soon-to-be Imperial Mate, he didn’t shy away from any task presented to him ⸻ even if that task was, occasionally, the Empress’s own satisfaction. A strong proponent of all forms of love, he applied himself to ensuring that the Den was appropriately-handled such that Her Imperial Majesty had nothing else to do but indulge in her affections; splitting the work evenly with Lacey, he liked to joke that he was in charge of the harem’s administration while the little cow saw to any “acquisitions” that the Empress might fancy, and naturally that had included the Herald herself once upon a time.

“Alright, sweetie,” Rose piped up, tapping the rabbit gently on the shoulder, “let’s towel you off and see about getting you into that dress.”

 

---

 

Calling it a dress was somewhat of a misnomer given that it came in three distinct parts, but it was wedding attire nonetheless.

Cut from a vibrant red silk in a satin weave, the glossy face of it was covered in beautiful embroidery styled after the lilies common to Velodia, themselves a mix of the large Shirui cups and some other Asian trumpeted lily. Most of the charmeuse-esque fabric had been sewn into a long skirt that sat low on her hips and draped comfortably down to her ankles, where the waterfall hem added a slight train that didn’t interfere with her heels. The rest was fashioned into a very small open-backed halter top, the proper tying of which required the strength and dexterity of two of the cowgirls in order to cram her rack into it without anything slipping out; as it was, the slight spillage near the bottom and sides was something she’d just have to get used to.

The final piece was a long drape of sheer fabric that was so thin as to be almost translucent, which was intended to be wrapped around the upper part of her torso with the excess fabric left to hang like a stole. Its combination with the rest of her outfit reminded her of a strange fusion of Middle East and South Asian styles, but from a strictly modern perspective at-odds with the otherwise medievalish world that she’d seen evident in Northriver and Lycia; as quirky as it was, she couldn’t decide if it was an eccentricity born from UltraCraft’s AI researcher, or simply the personal taste of whoever had been in charge of the half-finished Pandemonium.

Either way, the cut left much of her arms and midriff exposed, which was probably intentional given the glittering gold accessories she was expected to sport alongside it. Absent any meaningful lingerie aside from very thin bottoms, she was about two claw-swipes away from the outfit she’d worn in front of the Broken Wastes army ⸻ which she had to wonder if that wasn’t precisely the Empress’s intention, even if Kariss repeatedly assured her that it was traditional Velodian attire.

The little priest was present during her dressing, though he respectfully kept his gaze focused in a different direction while he informed her of the wedding’s schedule and notable attendees that she might be expected to greet. When asked why he had taken it upon himself to be her coordinator despite leaving her service to become a concubine, he merely smiled and said that the Empress had graciously allowed him the privilege of fussing over her bride.

As excellent aides as the cowgirls had been, the rabbit herself had been made ready far ahead of schedule, leaving her some time to kill inside her chambers before the eventual parade and procession. Perhaps unsettled by the pressure of doing nothing, the bunnygirl couldn’t help but engage in her favorite pastime of self-sabotage, inflicting torment on herself.

“Is this really okay?” she asked for the dozenth time, shooting Lacey a worried look.

“Getting married?” the little cow giggled, shaking her head at the absurdity of the taller girl’s apprehension. “Of course it is, sweet ⸻ and if it wasn’t, we’re a couple large fortunes too late to back out now.”

“You know what I mean,” the rabbit persisted, pouting as she did. “Not getting married itself, but who’s involved.” Chewing on her bottom lip, she fretted over her next words, both feeling compelled to speak them while simultaneously scared of what the answer might be. “Like, is it honestly okay that I’m stealing your wolf?”

Rolling her eyes, Lacey merely raised her hand, displaying the facsimile of the realspace ring Arvina had given her. “Did I ‘steal’ yours?” she returned in an unamused tone.

“That doesn’t count, because it’s something I wanted you to have,” the bunnygirl insisted, glaring at the bimbo’s dismissal of her claims. “I wanted you to be happy, and to finally receive something that you’ve chased after for such a long time.”

“And you won’t let me feel the same for you?” Lacey countered, beating back the rabbit’s self-degrading logic.

It was a circular argument, another version of the one she’d had with Herdsplitter. The cowgirls themselves had witnessed it on several occasions, and so the content of it was nothing new. Perhaps fearing a relapse of the “realspace curse,” the well-meaning herd seemed to decide at that moment that their favorite little idiot wasn’t being convincing-enough, and that they should do something to help the bride get over her stubbornness.

“If she didn’t want you getting married,” Gerrie interjected, speaking slowly so that the two gentle women could follow along with her, “then she wouldn’t have helped Arvina make your dress.”

“That’s right,” Naomi added, supporting her sister’s point. “Lacey was smiling the whole time.”

“Arvina and Lacey made this?” the rabbit questioned, gesturing to her shimmering attire.

Alyssa gave her a confused look, then turned to the other cowgirls. “She’s been on the moon for a very long time,” she whispered secretively to her sisters, though not quietly enough to keep the Herald from hearing. “Maybe she doesn’t know about crafting.”

“That makes sense,” Rose agreed, as though such textile ignorance was plausible. “Bunny doesn’t know about a lot of things.”

“Do you think she’s even figured out that she’s a Bunny yet?” Gerrie wondered, turning a meaningful gaze towards Kariss to try to discover his opinion on the matter; the bunny-boy put up his hands, waving away any potential involvement.

“Maybe we should tell Lady Silvermane about this,” Rose suggested, deferring to the opinion of the smartest wolfborn that she could readily contact.

“This is a problem for cowgirls to solve,” Alyssa returned, declining the young wolf’s involvement, before providing an explanation that assured the rabbit that the girls were incredibly mistaken regarding the concept of her daughter’s title. “Lady Silvermane has all those lords to govern, which means she’s too busy.”

“Okay, alright,” the bunnygirl relented, giving up before the herd could involve her in another well-meaning plan of dubious benefit. “I withdraw my complaints.”

“Good girl,” Lacey grinned smugly, stretching her hand up as high as it would reach; sighing, the Herald bent down to facilitate the headpat.

While the girls were all simply doing their best, and the little cow clearly cared about the bunnygirl’s well-being, something about the affectionate gesture in that moment rubbed the rabbit’s fur the wrong way.

“You know,” the nameless woman started, slipping a self-satisfied smile onto her strong features, “you should be a little more respectful of my person. After I become the Empress’s Empress, everything that belongs to Her Imperial Majesty will become my property as well.”

Undaunted, Lacey returned her grin, a lascivious taunt lingering on her tongue. “In that case,” she purred, stepping into the rabbit’s space to press her voluminous chest against the taller woman’s waist, “I promise I’ll be your very best little fuckcow.”

A ferocious desire blazing in her eyes, the Herald turned to her former priest. “Kariss,” she demanded in an even tone, “how much longer until the procession?”

“Roughly an hour,” he responded politely, with less of a note of reproach in his voice so much as an understanding acceptance.

“Then find somewhere else for the girls to be for that duration,” she growled, already pawing at the enormous curves of her favourite.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he said with a bow, before moving to usher the giggling herd out of the room. “But please, do not sully your dress beyond what my items can repair.”

Snarling as she tore at the little cow’s garments, it was hard to tell if the bunnygirl had even heard him.

 

---

 

While the instant-hygiene consumables worked wonderfully on the Herald’s garments, the tight timer she was on forced her to leave both her boudoir and the little cow in a state of sticky disarray; trusting that the cowgirls could sort Lacey out before the ceremony proper, the rabbit left to join the party that had come to collect her.

She met Silvermane and Genevieve near the entrance to her temple, where the two were overseeing the preparation of the elaborate open-topped litter that would serve as her transportation to the castle. Leaving the former Champion Regent to smooth out the last details, her worried-looking daughter tramped up to her.

“Is everything alright?” the bunnygirl asked, eyeing the concern that had settled onto the young wolf’s features.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about Empress Bloodwolf,” the Lord Governor began hesitantly in her muted baritone, struggling to reign-in her visible unease. “Though I was introduced to her very briefly when I took office, today was my first chance to actually meet her.”

“And?” the rabbit prompted. “Is something wrong?”

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, the wolfborn cast her gaze away from her mother, her apprehension almost a visible burden on her slumped shoulders. “Is the Empress ….” she started and then trailed off immediately, too anxious to even finish her question.

“... Your sire?” the bunnygirl finished for her; Silvermane nodded in response, encouraging the rabbit to continue. “She is, yes. Her Imperial Majesty sired you just before the liberation of Velody. Perhaps due to the circumstances of the creche at the time, or because she was concerned with how the city would receive you as an heir, we agreed to keep her identity concealed.”

The last part was something of a lie, of course; Herdsplitter hadn’t told the Herald anything about her choice to keep Silvermane in the dark about her parentage, but the bunnygirl assumed that the clever wolf never did anything without a good reason ⸻ and it was very likely that her suppositions were correct. The turbulent time following the arrest of the Matriarch and the subsequent reformation of the Velodian government had been very touch-and-go, if Moonfang’s explanation of the events had been accurate. Still, she knew that the Empress had preferred to visit the creche incognito before the establishment of the Den of Eternal Spring, so perhaps it was an unintended consequence.

Unfortunately, the assertion did little to soothe the young wolfborn’s anxiety, and instead appeared to add to it.

“Does that displease you?” the rabbit asked, worried for her daughter’s sake.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, exhibiting some of the regrettable self-conscious traits of her mother. “It’s just that everyone’s been calling me ‘Lady Silvermane,’ and saying that I’m the litter of some bandit-queen.”

“And you most certainly are not,” the bunnygirl insisted, despite the fact that Herdsplitter had been the Wolf Lord at the time of the conception; trying to lift her pup’s spirits, she tried a weak attempt at a joke. “I think I would know best who your sire was.”

“Then why didn’t she give me her name?” Silvermane countered in a panicked voice, finding fault with herself. “I should be Lady Bloodwolf. Am I … ⸻ am I not worthy of the clan?”

“Of course you’re worthy,” the rabbit responded in a soothing voice, reaching out to try to bring her daughter into a hug; Silvermane stepped back, avoiding the calming affection, and the nameless woman sadly let her hands drop back to her sides.

“I did something really bad when I was little, didn’t I?” the wolfborn mumbled quietly, revealing her lingering torment. “I don’t know what it was, but you never came to see me in the creche after the first time, and then Sire didn’t give me her name … ⸻ it’s because I don’t know what I did wrong, right? That’s why I’m being punished: I’m too stupid to figure it out.”

While the young wolf had undergone the equivalent of more or less sixteen years of development, all of that growth had occurred over roughly a year and a half; to her daughter, the guilt she’d associated with her mother’s absence had been swimming around in her thoughts for an impossibly-long time, the memory of it always fresh in her mind. Taking after her parent in the worst way possible, she obsessed over something that wasn’t her fault.

The Lord Governor’s anxiety was proof of the rabbit’s deepest fear, the inexperienced woman hurting her child through her inability and unfitness as a mother.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart,” the bunnygirl sighed, clenching her hands into fists, pressing her claws into her palms. “I didn’t return to visit you because I … ⸻ I had something important I needed to do. The reason why your sire didn’t share her name with you is also my fault; I more or less tricked her into breeding me, when she was in a position where she couldn’t say ‘no’.”

That was the sequence of events, wasn’t it? Or close-enough, anyhow. The rabbit’s carelessness had left her little one with a horrible anxiety, her child suffering from the direct results of her actions. Despite her attempt to claim fault, however, it did nothing to lessen the burden on the taller girl’s shoulders; a wounded look on her face, Silvermane turned her eyes back to her mother.

“Are you ashamed of me?” she asked, her soft gaze full of pain as she came to an understandable conclusion.

“Never,” the bunnygirl promised her pup.

“Then why didn't you come see me?” she whined, her strict training forcing her to stay straight-backed and aloof, even as she trembled with unbearable sorrow. “What's the real reason you didn't visit the creche?”

Though Silvermane fought to hold onto her sense of decorum, to the rabbit she seemed less like the tall, fierce young Lord Governor, and more like the small, scared ball of fluff that she had cradled in the Wolf Lord's den. Opening her arms wide, the rabbit offered her daughter an embrace; this time Silvermane hesitantly accepted the hug, resting her head on her mother’s shoulders as the shorter woman squeezed her pup as hard as she could.

“I was struck with a terrible curse,” the bunnygirl murmured, clutching her little one as close as she could. “Ever since I was a little girl, I've lived with an emptiness inside of me. It steals my joy, magnifies my sorrow, and whispers lies about those dear to me, leaving me incapable of love. I couldn't bear to let that curse injure you and your sister, so I went away for a little while to rid myself of it; sadly, I lost myself on the way back, and so your sire and my mates had to come find me.”

“If that's true,” Silvermane whimpered, holding back her own tears, “then why does the ache in my chest tell me that you're lying? Why do I hurt so badly if I didn't do anything wrong?”

“It seems that I have passed some of the curse to you,” she sighed, the awful revelation leaving a bitter taste in her mouth; though the young wolf was not so traumatized as her parents, doubt and depression still lingered in her composited neural net. “I am so, so sorry, my precious daughter. It is because I am your mother that you have been made to suffer.”

“If I have that curse, too,” the wolfborn mewled, “is that why Sire hides herself from me? I think it must be … Sapphire and Nightstalker bear her name proudly, but I do not ⸻ because her cursed litter is not worthy of her love … or my mother's love, either.”

“That isn't true at all,” she assured her pup, softly petting the young wolf’s mane as she denied the horrible whispers that tore at her little one’s heart. “I love you dearly, sweetheart, and I know your sire does as well. You and your sister mean the world to me. I wished to have children for a long, long time, always believing that I would never be able to be a mother ⸻ and then I had you two, my little angels. Every moment I get to spend with you is a dream come true, a miracle that I thought I would never experience.”

Sniffling slightly, the bunnygirl was glad the young wolf couldn't see her tears. “I love you so much, and I am proud to call you my daughter.”

Still somewhat shy despite all her training, Silvermane looked away as she returned her mother’s hug, gifting the rabbit a few sweet words that she had always hoped to receive from her pup.

“I love you too … ⸻ Momma.”

Sobbing quietly, the nameless woman held her beautiful daughter for as long as Lady Bloodwolf allowed.

 

---

 

Thankfully, UltraCraft didn’t seem particularly concerned about the fidelity of runny makeup, or at least hadn’t seen fit to apply it to that particular situation. Once she was finally dry-eyed, the Herald of Twilight joined Genevieve and the Lord Governor on the litter, where twelve of the city’s finest knights were waiting to ferry the bride to the castle.

Despite being an enshrined deity for a little over a year, she was still unused to more public displays of reverence, and the atmosphere of her wedding parade was far beyond anything she’d ever experienced. It seemed the city had swelled to double its size, and everyone stood along the sides of the streets or waved at her from balconies and rooftops, cheering for their much-adored Herald. Overwhelmed by the remarkable praise, she hoped that the bright reds of her outfit would hide the permanent blush that had crept all the way up to the tips of her ears.

Once the litter finally made its way over the great bridge and past the crowds assembled at the castle gates, the knights gently set her down and then moved to form an honour guard, lining the broad steps. At the top of the stairway sat the stage for the wedding itself, surrounded by the most-important guests, placing her in view of the rest of the city as well.

Swallowing a nervous lump in her throat, she allowed the Lord Governor and Genevieve to take her hands, escorting her out of the litter and up the last small leg of her journey.

Herdsplitter waited for her on the stage, grinning broadly as her bride finally arrived. While the bunnygirl had expected to see her in a suit, either made of cloth or armored, she was astonished to find the wolf wearing only a simple backless gown, the silk drape flattering the lines and curves of her body. Out of respect for Velodian tradition, it was also dyed a similar vibrant red to her own clothing, and the effect of it was so stunning that it left the rabbit speechless.

Burning red all the way down to her shoulders, the nameless woman took her place next to the Empress.

“Are you alright, Beloved?” Herdsplitter whispered as the Lord Governor made her way to the podium, taking advantage of the fact that their backs were turned to the audience and thus their conversation would be invisible to the public.

“I just didn’t expect to see you in a dress,” the bunnygirl mumbled, turning even redder than her wedding garments. “It, uh … looks really good on you.”

“Of course it does,” the wolf chuckled, eyeing her future mate up and down with a patient hunger. “I wore what you most wanted to see.”

Briefly, the rabbit thought about denying that claim, but the form-fitting attire highlighted her lover’s muscular physique in the most-appealing fashion, and it was hard to argue that she wasn’t absolutely into that. Plus, when the wolf shifted in just the right way, the fabric outlined an entirely different bulge that made her want to get to her wedding night as quickly as possible.

Nervously clasping her hands in front of herself, the bunnygirl wasn’t sure where to look, or how to stand; though she had once been a veteran of public performance, she’d never been so on-display before, or at least not in a context where she held agency. Somehow, being on a stage in her wedding dress was infinitely more embarrassing than the stunt she’d pulled in front of the Velodian army ⸻ all of whom would be in the crowd behind her.

Sidling up closer to her, Herdsplitter took her bride by the hand.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, offering her Bunny a crooked smile. “I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry,” the bunnygirl mumbled, shifting awkwardly as the Lord Governor began to address the crowd.

“Why are you so nervous?” her wolf questioned, a hint of concern in her voice.

“It’s just, like, a lot,” the rabbit stammered, horribly aware of the thousands and thousands of eyes upon her. “The parties, the parade, all this pomp and circumstance … ⸻ I feel more like a political piece than a girl on her wedding day.”

“A political figure …?” Herdsplitter echoed, tilting her head to the side like a perplexed puppy. After a moment, as though believing she understood what the Herald wanted, her crooked grin became a lascivious leer. “Be that as it may, I promise to make you feel like a princess when we consummate our marriage bed.”

“Y-yeah,” she squeaked, her lapine antennae twitching in embarrassed arousal, “that sounds fun and all ….” She trailed off, wishing she could hide her face behind her bunny ears.

“But something still upsets you,” the wolf prompted, dragging out her anxiety.

She nodded slightly, swallowing the lump of feelings that had risen in her throat. “I guess this just isn’t how I imagined our wedding,” she murmured sheepishly, “not back when we first met.”

Fangs flashing brilliantly in the light, Herdsplitter fixed her with a knowing smirk. “And yet,” she laughed softly, “you imagined it.”

Gathering her resolve, she returned her lover’s stare, a fierce passion glittering in her ruby-red eyes. “Of course,” she growled, summoning every ounce of her predatory courage,

“⸻ ... Avarice is my greatest virtue.”

 

---

 

After the public ceremony, the newlywed couple were treated to a more private affair back in Lycia.

Out of respect for the Velodian religious traditions, as well as an indicator that the Empress intended for her wife’s stay in Lycia to be somewhat more permanent, a much-smaller version of her temple had been constructed inside the winter city, set atop a higher elevation that overlooked the broad swaths of forest that had been kept inside the grand walls. The procession from the portal to her reception at the new temple was no less exuberant than the parade in Velody, and Kariss assured her that it was for the sake of officializing her re-enshrinement in the Lycian sanctum, metaphorically connecting it with the one back on Pandemonium.

Fewer guests were present at the reception, limited only to the close friends of the couple as well as some of the higher-ranked concubines. Though the bunnygirl had occasionally heard her wolf being referred to as “Medeina” during her stay in the harem, she was somewhat surprised to find that the ability to address the Empress by the regnal name was a profound privilege, exercised only in private; even the small gathering was not quite intimate enough to qualify, and it amused her to hear the concubines refer to their mistress as “Her Majesty” or “Empress Bloodwolf,” even if they had not done so in the Den of Eternal Spring.

Beyond that, it seemed that almost no one was aware of the Empress’s actual name; of all those present, she was certain that only Arvina, Lacey, and herself knew the wolf as “Herdsplitter,” and that rarefied company made her feel truly special.

Standing at the side of her powerful wife, surrounded by her loving mates and her dear friends, the nameless woman forgot all about the nothing inside her for one beautiful night.

 

---

 

“Again,” she pouted, her skin slick with sweat, seeming to glow in the soft light of the bedroom.

Undoing the vise of her jaws, her wolf regarded her with an amused look, licking at the blood that stained her teeth. “You’ve already had four,” Herdsplitter purred, setting one clawed hand against the rabbit’s abdomen, slightly swollen from the cum and knot stuffed inside her.

“And I want more,” the bunnygirl whined, pushing her fingers into her lover’s wild mane as she tried to coax the other woman down against her.

“I suppose I should be thrilled to have a wife that’s so willing to contribute to the pack,” the wolf laughed, lapping at the red that spilled along her heaving chest, mixing with the sweat pooling between her breasts, “but I didn’t expect my mate’s draconic greed to extend to our bedroom.”

“Yeah, well …” the rabbit muttered, turning her head away. Releasing her wolf, she covered her face with the back of her hand, hiding her growing embarrassment; a stark contrast to the demanding lover she’d been for the last few hours, the Herald shrank under Herdsplitter’s words, looking more like a mewling kitten than the monstrous predator she had been. “... Can you say that again?” she asked hesitantly, her deeper timbre broken-up by a flustered squeak.

“Which?” the wolf chuckled, grinning broadly as she saw through to the heart of her Beloved. “Was it ‘wife,’ or ‘mate’?”

“Either,” the bunnygirl stammered, writhing abashedly against the soft sheets. “B-both, maybe.”

Shifting slightly, Herdsplitter shoved the knot deeper, eliciting a pleased whimper. Leaning over her Beloved, she wrapped her powerful arms around her lover, holding her in a tight embrace. “Wife,” she growled, thrusting again into the squirming priestess. “Mate,” she snarled, slamming her hips against the smaller girl as she drove the point harder.

Words failing her under the physical and emotional assault, the rabbit dug in with her claws, adding to the mess of wild scratches already covering the wolf’s back. Happy tears falling freely, she buried her face in her wife’s soft ruff, burning the moment into her permanent memory, searing her core; stoking a fiery passion inside her lover, Herdsplitter’s eyes blazed with possessive fury, jealously pounding her bunnygirl harder than the greedy priestess had ever experienced.

As intimate as any two people could be, the bunnygirl caressed her wife’s face with the same delicacy that she stroked her mirror, feeling the words with her body even as the roaring wolf whispered them in her ear, catching the lapine antennae with her teeth. Herdsplitter’s avarice revealed itself, not as the envious litany of a worried spouse, but as the confident surety that every piece of the rabbit was owed to her; the loving violence wasn’t for the sake of denying her other mates, but instead to claim the nameless woman completely, obliterating the hiss of the nothing buried deep inside her. You belong to me, my beloved, she said with the ardor of her fangs and the sweet touch of her claws. Mine is the only voice you need to hear.

Scorching her mate with a fierce adoration, the wolf devoured the nothing completely, consuming her new wife with the same wild dedication.

 

---

 

The next few weeks were some of the happiest moments of the bunnygirl’s life, which was a bar that Herdsplitter seemed intent on raising whenever she had the chance.

Desiring to show her new wife all the wonder of her world, the Empress took her on several excursions into the Eastern Wilds, the mountainous woodland that Herdsplitter was intent on keeping wild. Trekking through the snow with her favourite concubine and the rabbit’s mates by her side, the wolf led her on hikes to stunning natural vistas, outings to hidden hot springs, and on hunts for wild game ⸻ some of which were so enormous and bestial as to provide a thrilling challenge for the wolfborn’s party. Discovering that Lacey was particularly enamored with the outdoor adventures, the wolf and her rabbit found the little cow to be more than ready for a celebratory fuck whenever they returned to the Den of Eternal Spring ⸻ and most of the time, they didn’t even need to wait until they were back home, either.

Even Lycia itself had its share of delights, many of which seemed precisely tailored to the bunnygirl’s interests. After the third or fourth occasion on which the city’s Greek-style theatre “just happened” to be showing something interesting in the afternoon, the rabbit clued-in to the extent of which Herdsplitter was willing to go to provide her wife with entertainment. It seemed that the wolf was insistent on making Lycia a comfortable home for the nameless woman in every sense of the word; now that the Bunny was as permanent a resident of UltraCraft as her spouse, Herdspitter excitedly engaged in showing the rabbit everything their world had to offer, sharing her life in a consummate respect.

Overwhelmed by the Empress’s joyous affection, the nameless woman slowly came to understand that she hadn’t been chosen as her wife simply for political convenience, or even as a way to keep the Pandemonium Dragon obedient; Herdsplitter loved her, delighting in the creative passion that the two had shared even during their very first meeting. The sentiment was enough to make her cry when she finally uncovered it, which made for a slightly awkward moment at a diplomatic dinner.

Of course, realspace continued to change in parallel, and Herdsplitter was similarly devoted to her in that world as well.

The romantic relationships of the polycule remained inextricably tangled, with titles of “spouse” or “girlfriend” largely interchangeable. The only time they truly mattered was in official matters of documentation, or during the salacious group fantasy in which they occasionally indulged; lying next to each other on the bed, Lacey and her Bunny would get ruthlessly railed by each other’s wives, the faux taboo providing an extra layer of spice to an activity almost indistinguishable from any other night ⸻ or morning, or even afternoon if Varina had the day off.

Once Naomi was finally able to inhabit a realspace body as the world’s first cowgirl, the growing family moved from the rapidly-shrinking flat to a larger residence. Though the floorplan was quite spacious, it didn’t exist purely as a display of excess or wealth; every room served a purpose, the high ceilings and wider hallways intended to allow the steadily-increasing number of occupants to live comfortably, without constantly bumping each other's elbows.

Even with her persistent realspace maladies, the nameless woman was still active in the kitchen alongside her favourite, and the two shared adjoining studios with a removable set of panels between. While the Bunny got significantly more use out of it than Lacey, it was more to do with the fact that the little cow had become a realspace mother as well; the first child definitely belonged to Varina, and Naomi’s daughter was recognizable by the little bumps of her horns and her soft cow ears, but it quickly became pointless to keep track of which little one “officially” belonged to whom. As far as the two wolves were concerned, every child in the household was “theirs,” and they delighted in spoiling the younger Wolfes whenever possible.

Slowly but surely, the outside world began to improve for more than just the little family. As widespread social reforms and growing acceptance of the World Tree Holdings Lifestyle AI reached further and further, the misery of the world shrank just the same. While cases of Shadow Sickness reached a fever pitch, social media was more focused on the “miracles” happening to formerly-impoverished recipients of Lacey’s RealDimension charity. Finding that their bodies shaped themselves according to their ideals, the number of gender dysphoria cases fell-off harshly in the steadily growing number of countries where the Pandemonium Dragon was active, heralding a similar number of declining persistent health concerns.

It wasn’t paradise, certainly, and the dragon hid how much blood truly stained her claws ⸻ but when Herdsplitter and the nameless woman looked out over the city skyline, they no longer saw the wretched misery that had once been an omnipresent plague.

 

---

 

“I can walk just fine,” the nameless woman pouted, clutching her cane in her good hand while the other lay across her lover’s shoulder.

“I know,” Herdsplitter chuckled, ferrying her out to the little garden behind the house. “Who said this is for you?”

Carefully carrying her wife like a princess, the wolfish amazon expertly dodged the knee-high darlings that careened around the yard. Gently and with practiced ease, she set her charge down on the wooden loveseat swing. Leaning in for a surprisingly-deep kiss, the wolf satisfied her craving for affection.

It wasn’t more than a minute before the little ones came to drag the amazon out to continue playing with the family dog; a clever Husky with an even (if somewhat mischievous) temperament, she’d charmed Herdsplitter at first glance with her “regal bearing,” and she’d similarly worked her way into the hearts of the rest of the family ⸻ though their two cats had mixed feelings about their larger housemate.

Enjoying the cool August breeze, the nameless woman was content to sit and watch her little family, rocking slightly on the swing as she observed their antics. Some of it was passive, certainly, but the children enjoyed including her as an active participant, crawling into “Momma’s” lap while they showed her whatever interesting thing they’d found, whether it be a neat rock or a particularly-lovely flower from one of the well-cared-for beds. Of course she did her best to keep up with their enthusiastic chatter, but the demands of the Pandemonium Dragon and their slowly-developing sign skills meant that things sometimes slipped through the cracks; as long as the little creatures were happy, however, she didn’t particularly mind being a little confused.

Eventually the kids tired Lacey out, and she passed them off to the wolves and Naomi while she stopped to catch her breath. Taking a seat next to her Bunny, the little cow helped the nameless woman slip her bad arm around her small shoulders. Savoring the simple pleasure of each other’s presence, they watched their family play together as twilight slowly deepened.

Quietly, but with deliberate intent, the nameless woman squeezed her favourite’s arm, drawing her closer.

“I love you, Lacey,” she smiled, in that crooked way her wolves shared.

Stunned, the sweet girl simply stared back at her in shock, processing the unadorned phrase. As recognition dawned on her features, her eyes began to glisten with the start of tears.

“That certainly took you long enough,” the bimbo laughed, her mirth hiding her surprised melancholy. “How long has it been, now ⸻ years, maybe?”

“I’m sorry for being so stubborn,” she apologized, holding her mate’s gaze.

“At least you didn’t lop off the end of my name this time,” the little cow giggled, a manic thing that held back her urge to cry.

“I thought it would show my sincerity,” the nameless woman mumbled abashedly, turning pink.

“Still, though,” Lacey continued, thumbing at the corner of her eyes, “it’s not very fair, is it?”

Tilting her head like a puzzled puppy, the taller girl furrowed her brows in confusion. “What isn’t fair?”

“I can’t say it back,” the little cow explained, prying just slightly into her girlfriend’s heart, “on account of the fact that you’ve never told me your name.”

“Ah,” she chuckled softly. “I suppose I should tell you what it is, shouldn’t I? Since you’ve been waiting so patiently.”

Now that they'd reached something close-enough to a “happily ever after,” it was time to reveal the truth, but the moment wasn’t as sharp as she thought it might be. Perhaps it was an unremarkable inevitability ⸻ after all, it was a name that she was finally beautiful enough to possess.

Taking Lacey’s hand in her own, the nameless woman’s contentment was mirrored in her ruby-red eyes, all of her affection and adoration for the other woman lingering in the delicate syllable of her name.

“Claire.”