Third Person's POV If not for Magnus, the Moonvale Pack would have continued living their lives as if Aysel were nothing more than a pawn-forcing her along paths she didn't wish to tread, commanding her as if her own will were irrelevant. They had spoken of love, yet time and again, their words betrayed her, leaving scars only she could feel. Given her stubborn nature, she would never have yielded to a forced engagement. But breaking free would have cost her dearly-more than anyone could imagine. Regret spoken aloud was not enough; they had to taste a fraction of the pain they had inflicted. Magnus lowered his head and brushed his muzzle against hers, a soft, warm press. "Next year, I'll give you a grander birthday." Aysel laughed, fingers sweeping lightly across his lips to remove a trace of rouge. "A grand birthday... isn't as important as a quiet, peaceful one." He squeezed her hand, voice gentle but firm, the deep rumble of his Alpha essence comforting her. "Alright. We'll do it the way you like." Aysel smiled again, the sunlight catching the strands of her fur. Her paw reached up to straighten the knot of his ceremonial neckwrap. "Mr. Sanchez, you look quite dashing today." Magnus's eyes curved with humor, his forehead leaning against hers. "I must match the beauty of the Moonvale's finest, after all." Aysel's eyes crinkled in mirth as she pressed a quick nuzzle to his muzzle. "So handsome and so charming... he's mine." Magnus wrapped her close, spine pressed against hers, tail brushing hers in subtle possession. "Yes... you're mine." She was his. A wife so beautiful, he had no desire to show her off to the world. Fortunate that he himself carried a visage she adored; it would stave off monotony for some time. "Mm..." Aysel wriggled her head away, avoiding the intensifying kiss. "Enough. If my fur gets mussed, the day's over before it begins." Magnus lingered with a final press of his muzzle, reluctant but yielding. "Let's go." Paws entwined, they stepped toward the Shadowbane car, en route to the Sanchez ancestral hall. The Sanchez old den was alive with activity, an effort to shake off misfortune. Bastien Sanchez had decided to make this birthday a lively affair, inviting a rare assembly of guests. Servants scurried since dawn, transforming the den with bright banners and lanterns, the scents of roasted meats and spiced brews filling the corridors. As Magnus escorted Aysel through the grand hall, presenting gifts and exchanging polite greetings, Bastien watched from a shadowed perch, letting a cautious breath escape. He had barely recovered from an incident with his youngest son; today, no mishaps were welcome. These two-the Alpha of Shadowbane and the Moonvale's daughter-were the greatest potential sources of chaos. Yet Magnus introduced Aysel as his fiancée, the future matriarch of the Shadowbane Pack, and Bastien allowed it, an eye closed to formalities. Who could oppose Magnus? And as for Aysel... a flash of temper could see his birthday cake overturned in a heartbeat. Seeing the Alpha elder, normally steely and unyielding, display a hint of forced tenderness toward her, Aysel chuckled, nudging Magnus's side with a paw. "Why is your grandfather so well-behaved today?" Last time, he had snarled at her, nose wrinkled, trying to tilt the scales for his youngest daughter, Rudi Sanchez. Obedient? Magnus's lips lifted in a wolfish smirk. Even in age, this was a creature who had ruled the Imperial Den with authority, his presence commanding respect-yet, only Aysel could describe him in such terms. He grasped her paw, low voice rumbling. "He fears losing face." It was said in the wilds: the bold feared the brazen, the brazen feared the reckless, and the reckless feared death. To Bastien, Aysel was that unpredictable force-both bold and seemingly untamable-with Magnus at her side as her devoted shield, an ally who twisted every angle to protect her. The den was filled with many of Bastien's long-time allies, and appearances mattered. Yet Aysel cared little for the decorum or appearances of the Sanchez Pack. If anything, she was more difficult to sway than Magnus himself. Aysel laughed, leaning against Magnus's flank, tail brushing his leg in comfort. "I'm not that unreasonable, am I?"