((Note: The following scene takes place the day after the Yule Ball.))

There was one thing Marissa had learned about homesteading - there was always work of one sort or another to be done, even in the winter months. While Emrys was out chopping wood for the fire, Marissa was inside putting together a stew and biscuits, humming contentedly to herself as she chopped vegetables to add to the stew, hoping Emrys didn't mind them there. The stew was pretty meat-heavy as it was, but if nothing else, the vegetables would give it more flavor. It was a simple lifestyle and one that they'd consciously chosen, though they could have lived in luxury if Marissa had insisted on it.

But luxury was totally alien to the wolf she had chosen for her mate, a man who had lived right on the edge of society almost all his life. Even now, with regular exposure to people in groups and in their own homes, Emrys was still made up of rough edges that only his charm softened in the face of offense. The snow and cold barely touched him as he worked on the wood, pausing to check on the pigs before taking up the wood basket and carrying it up onto the porch. The thump of him knocking the snow from his boots heralded his imminent arrival through the door.

As simple as their life was, Marissa was happy - happier than she could ever remember being. Even with uncertainties and decisions hanging over their heads, she couldn't have been happier with their simple life at the cottage in the woods. Now that the stew was cooking, and the biscuits were baking, she had a little while to take a breath and relax before more chores needed doing. She had dug a few things out of the chest and had piled them up on the table, with the intention to not only sort through them but share a little more of her history with Emrys. She had already got the kettle going and was preparing him a cup of coffee to warm him when he returned.

Stepping inside, he paused to shake a shudder from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, remarkably canine for a man walking on two legs. Flashing her a grin, he put the basket down, shrugging out of his coat. "All is still out there," he reported warmly, hanging up his coat and bending to pull his boots off. Even after all these months, he still refused to do her the discourtesy of treading mud into their home.

"Silent Night, Holy Night. All is calm, all is bright," she sang quietly to herself as she fixed him a cup of coffee, her thoughts wandering to Christmases past, some happy, some sad. This was a happy one, though she wasn't too sure how much he knew about traditional celebrations, Rhy'Din-style or otherwise.

Heaving the basket over to place it beside the hearth, Emrys padded back to the kitchen, curling his arms about Marissa to press his cold nose to her neck as he kissed her skin tenderly. "You have a beautiful voice, kitten."

She giggled as he tickled her neck with his cold nose. "Emrys, you're freezing!" she told him, turning to touch a kiss to his lips and hand him the cup of hot coffee. At least, she had insisted on buying him some warmer clothes to replace the rags he'd been wearing when she'd met him.

Grinning, he kissed her for a long moment, lingering in her touch and her scent before releasing her to claim his coffee. After a rocky start, he'd developed quite a liking for the stuff. "I'll warm up," he promised her. "Faster, if you were naked, but I appreciate that now is not the time."

"Later," she promised, tapping a finger against his nose. Later could mean anything from a few minutes to a few hours, but it probably meant not until bedtime, or at least, after supper. "There's something I want to show you," she told him, taking his hand to lead him to the table, where a number of boxes laid half-opened.

Hand in hand with her, he was happy to be lead around, slurping from his cup as he looked over the collection of boxes curiously. "You're not going to make me dance again, are you?"

"No," she chuckled, though she'd enjoyed that very much. "Not right now, anyway. Maybe later." There was a half-empty cup of hot cocoa on the table, evidence she had already been sorting through whatever was in those boxes without him. "I thought it was time you meet some of my family," she told him, opening one of the boxes to pull out an old scrapbook.

"You keep your family in boxes?" he asked, bemused for a moment before he recalled what it was his sister did for a living. It had taken the combined efforts of both Marissa and Seren to explain what a photograph was, but he'd finally grasped the concept after having the process demonstrated to him. "Oh, I see. These are ....pictures, yes?"

"Yes," she confirmed, patiently. If it had been anyone else, she might have wondered why he was asking such an obvious question, but this was Emrys, and she had been trying to take slow steps with him where modern technology was concerned, not to mention with sharing her past. Her life story was hard enough for her to understand without expecting him to be able to wrap his head around it. Small steps were best. "Sit," she urged, waving him into a chair as she claimed one for herself.

He eased down into a seat beside her, one arm draped comfortably about her back as he drew his chair closer. He always seemed to want to be touching her, one way or another, uncertain if she found it an annoyance or not. But it was one of those things. He was apparently quite a tactile person when he had the leisure to enjoy it. "Should I learn fetch and roll over as well?" he asked her with a faint snicker.

She did not mind his touch, both of them having been alone for too long and lacking any form of physical affection. In fact, she craved his touch and was far more content when he was near. She smiled at his jest and patted his cheek. "Should I rub your belly and take you for a walk?"

He chuckled, butting her hand with his cheek for a moment. "If you like," he conceded. "But only if I can wave a piece of string in front of you and watch you play with it." The thought of Marissa doing that was utterly ridiculous, but fun to imagine, nonetheless.

"Oh, ha ha. Very funny," she replied with a smirk. Coming from anyone else and she might have considered that an insult, but there was very little Emrys could do wrong in Marissa's eyes. She sighed as she drew her gaze back to the scrapbook in front of them, her fingers lovingly caressing the cover. She knew this was going to be painful, but if he truly wanted to understand her better, then it was also necessary. "This is a scrapbook of photos and keepsakes I've been keeping all these years," she told him, though that much seemed obvious enough.

He had never asked her to tell him about her past, or about the family she seemed to hold at arm's length. Meeting Rhiannon and Eregor last night had piqued his interest, certainly, but he'd learned early on that the best way to learn anything about his Marissa was to let her come to it in her own time. It seemed as though she had decided that now was her time, and he was content to listen, gently stroking his fingers over her hair. "Memories in a book?"

"Yes," she replied, a little surprised to have him phrase it in such a way, though that was essentially accurate. "Some of it is confusing, even to me, but I'll try not to confuse you with too many details," she promised, though it was a hard promise to make. She paused a moment as if to gather her courage before opening the book and turning to a particular page. "These are my birth parents, Lydia and Amadeus," she told him, hardly needing to point out which was which. The woman was a stunning redhead with green eyes, and the man was rugged-looking with brown eyes, a beard, and a hat that looked reminiscent of the kind cowboys wore on Earth. "They were killed shortly after I was born."

"They are not native to Rhy'Din, but there are some around. They are ....spacers mostly. Star-travelers. They mostly keep to the Spaceport. My father met my mother when his ship crash-landed on Rhy'Din, not far from this very spot," she said, gesturing toward the eastern-most window. "They possess mental abilities, powers both wondrous and terrible. Thankfully, I have never felt that calling," she explained. What she didn't explain was that one of the other Marissas had, but that hardly mattered to her story.

"They sound like a powerful race," Emrys mused thoughtfully. He understood that there was a chance any child of theirs might display abilities like those, but he was confident that Marissa could guide anyone. "Anyone who travels the stars must be brave, indeed."

"My birth mother traveled them a little when she was young, or so I'm told. I went back to visit the tribe when I was a teenager. It was there I met my birth mother's family. They were not very supportive of my mother's decision to mate with a Lycan. Such a coupling is forbidden, and any offspring are considered abomination, but they welcomed and accepted me as one of them." Hopefully, this would help him understood her fears where children were concerned.

He rolled his eyes. "I hate that word," he said vehemently. "You are not, and have never been, an abomination. Every child is a blessing, especially one who has been born of two such different parents. And what of those who are rejected simply for being different, as Demeter was" It is patently absurd to consider any child as something terrible, when the making of a life is something to be treasured."

She smiled at his words, admiring his passion and wishing she could share his courage. "I agree with you, but there are those who do not see things that way, even still. I was lucky. My mother underwent a procedure when she was pregnant so that her body would not reject me, and so that I would not be born ....wrong," she told him, for lack of a better word. At any rate, it was a word he'd understand. "I do not have a photograph of the tribe or my elders, but ..." She flipped the page again, a few snippets of striped fur held within the pages. "I have these."

His lips brushed her cheek, wanting to reassure her that he saw nothing wrong with her, whatever her mother did to ensure her health. He would see nothing wrong with their children either, be they cubs or pups. "In my eyes, love, you are perfect," he assured her softly, smiling into her gaze for a moment before lowering his eyes to the fur she had saved. Without thinking, he bent his head to sniff them.

She was hardly perfect, but she didn't bother to point that out, as he'd only have argued with her. She smiled as he sniffed at the snippets of fur, wondering what he sensed there. "And I have this ..." she added, pointing to another photo of a man, tall and handsome and utterly human. "This is my birth mother's father. My grandfather."

There was not much to sense from the snippets of fur, though he could taste a hint of Marissa in them, proof that she was a part of the bloodline, at the very least. Raising his head, he found himself looking at another photograph, and his grin widened. "He looks like a fine fellow."

"My mother loved him dearly. I am told she was crushed when he died and left Rhy'Din for a time with a broken heart." Marissa's gaze lingered on the photo of a grandfather she would never know. She had never gone back in time to meet him, though she'd considered it once or twice. "He must have been a good man for her to have loved him so."

Emrys smiled faintly. "Good men come in all shapes and sizes," he mused, inching closer to rest his chin on her shoulder. "You have quite the bloodline, kitten. I'm almost ashamed of my own in the light of yours."

"This cottage where we live" It once belonged to him. I sometimes like to think he is still here, watching." She leaned against him, glad for his closeness and his affection. "My parents lived here for a time, too, before they died. I know it sounds silly, but I feel connected to them here. Connected to my past. Connected to my family."

He wrapped his arms around her, breathing her in for a long moment. "It doesn't sound silly at all," he assured her quietly. "It sounds wonderful." He would never have that, nor would he want it. His own pack had treated him shamefully, and he resented them in his own quiet but fierce way for it.

"Your bloodline is nothing to be ashamed of, Emrys," she told him, lifting her gaze to his. "You have Seren, and she is worth so much more than a book of photos and mementos," she told him as she stroked his cheek.

He chuckled a little. "She might argue with you over that," he warned. "She seems obsessed with taking these pictures of hers and saving them forever. But you're right. And I wouldn't have her without you. I wouldn't have anything if it wasn't for you."

"I'm not so sure about that, but thank you," she said, her smile softening. She closed the book. "I think that's enough for one day," she told him, feeling a little drained from all the talk of her past and her family. There was more she had not yet told him, but she had shared the important parts, and his head had not yet exploded. That was a good sign.

"I'm sure, that's what counts," he informed her impishly, waiting until she had closed up the book before lifting her onto his lap. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he told her simply. "I know it can be difficult. Thank you for trusting me with it."

"I've had a good life, Emrys," she told him, her arms going around his neck as he lifted her onto his lap. "Every life is made up of some happy and some sad, but I have never been as happy as I have been here with you," she told him, touching her forehead to his.

Nose to nose with her, his smile was virtually all she could see, offered with absolute sincerity and delight in what she was telling him. "Neither have I," he told her honestly, touching a kiss to the tip of her nose. "And there's one thing I forgot to tell you last night, something I should have told you before I got you all upset with my questions."

She didn't bother to deny that she was upset, though she had been only a little upset compared to some of their discussions in the past. As they slowly grew to understand each other better, there were fewer upsets between them. "What's that' That you would like to bear the children yourself?" she teased, giggling a little at her own joke.

He laughed, nipping the end of her nose for that. "No, thank you," he smiled, hugging her close. "Just that ....I think you would be a wonderful mother. You have kindness and compassion, and you understand discipline. You have so much love in you, kitten. It would be a privilege to help you raise our children."

She blinked, clearly stunned, not so much by the compliment he was making her but by the sincerity of it. He was not just saying these things to be nice, as some had in her past, or to convince her to do as he wished; he really did seem to mean what he was saying. "I ..." She trailed off, unsure what to say. Should she thank him for the compliment or return it' He clearly believed in her, even when she did not believe in herself. "I am not sure that is true, but thank you. You would make a fine father, too. I am sure of it."