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Nngh. If Aesir was asked to come up with a single word to describe how he felt, it wouldn't eally be a word that he chose. It would be that sound right there. Nngh. His head hurt entirely too much to think in terms of, well, terms. Words and all that were beyond him. All he wanted was to remove his head from his neck and also piss.

He really, really had to piss, but that would involve opening his eyes and - gods be good - moving. The thought was sickening. He would rather face hordes of enemies than do that. Of course, facing down hordes of enemies would also involve moving and having his eyes open. Life was unfair. Life was beyond unfair.

Occasionally Morrigan wondered at her chosen mate. Part of her wondered how he could subject himself night after night to this misery. True, the elation the herbs brought was enjoyable, but this pain and distress the following morning? It made little sense. Thankfully another part of her always chimed in to remind her just why it was that males did these things. Simply put? They were males. The need to lose their senses and become laughing puddles of fur ran through the gender on the whole.

Thank the spirits that she had been born female.

She had risen hours before her mate had even thought to stir, gone out and caught a hare, deftly removed the fur, which was now hanging out to dry over a rock in her corner of the den; she'd laid the carcass out on a flat stone and cleaned up some of the dirt her mate had tracked in the night before. And then she'd done morning prayers, gone for a walk around the now-deserted space between the various dens, and thought to hang a large leaf over the den's entrance, to give dear Aesir some shade. And then on second thought, she'd removed it again. He'd slept long enough, surely, and would have to face this agony sooner or later.

Reluctantly, but with an awareness that her stern tone meant he'd definitely overslept, Aesir steeled his nerves and opened his eyes. Then he lifted his head and looked around to see for him self all those things he had heard her doing and which she said she had done. That is, he sought the food she claimed she'd brought. He wasn't sure his stomach was capable of holding down solid food at the moment, but the only way to find out would be to try. The thing was, if he tried and failed, he would just die of humiliation.

It wasn't as though Aesir liked being a mewling, puling sickling in front of his mate. In truth, there were few people he would less rather see him in that state. However, it was unavoidable, what with their sharing a den and all. It was just that Morrigan was one of those few lionesses whose opinion truly mattered to Aesir, and he hated to see her expression when she looked at him while he was like this.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "Thank you."

Hmph. "I did not ask for an apology, o husband." Her tone didn't convey any ill will, or equally any delight with him. It was the simple truth. She would admit that his apology had pleased her, but that didn't change the fact that it'd been unbidden.

"Eat. Drink. Lay still otherwise, and I will groom you. Few others are up, after your enjoyment last night, and it would not do for you to go out looking like the mess you are. Here..." She nudged the rock cupping the water closer. She eyed him a moment longer and then stood, moving silently to her part of the den. She rummaged a moment and then withdrew something...something obviously old, and dead, and shrivled. She waited for him to perhaps drink. or finish drinking, and then moved to hold her maw to his, forcing the item into his mouth in a mockery of a kiss. "For your head. It will stop the ringing."

It wasn't a point Aesir cared to argue with his head feeling like it did. Her remedy, while foul-tasting and wholly unpleasant, was already taking effect, but that didn't mean he wasn't still feeling the effects of the night before, too. He just had the dual desires to vomit to contend with until one or the other won out. He was hoping they would both lose and he would be spared vomiting. That, too, would be a colossal embarrassment.

"No, not another raid. Not today," Aesir assured her.

It was an effort to make himself think and speak and keep his eyes open all at once. Oh, and listen, too, so that he could do the thinking and speaking. The mint the night before had been much stronger than he was used to, he suspected, or maybe his intermittent periods of abstinence had hurt his tolerance. He wished he knew how everyone else's head felt.

"I'm glad?" he said, turning it into a question without meaning to.

He hadn't been sure if she would be able to use them or not, but he'd brought them back anyway. It had seemed like a nice thing to do. A token for his mate, who would probably never leave the pridelands, though she might leave the stronghold itself to gather herbs or select animals for whatever sacred purposes she needed to use them.

"I'm not going to regurgitate anything," he said firmly, and was surprised to note that it was true. May the gods bless his mate for her remedies, even the disgusting ones.

So saying, he bent to nibble cautiously at the rabbit while Morrigan moved around him and began grooming. He was unaware of where her attention was truly directed, and so he allowed his eyes to half close in contentment. This was much better, a significant improvement on his first few moments of consciousness. On the other hand, getting pissed on would have been an improvement over that. Speaking of which...

"Sorry," he said as he lurched to his feet with a herculean effort. "Some things to attend to which I really don't think you want me doing in the den."

She nodded knowingly and watched as he got up to leave. The call of nature... While he tended to things outdoors she set to tidying where he'd been laying before. The old sot had collapsed in a pile, and the furs and trinkets usually arranged so nicely around the den for maximum effect had become scattered and dirty. Yes, it was good he'd brought the plants.

She stepped out of the den after a few moments had passed. She took a deep breath, uttering a prayer to a spirit. Another day to live and serve... "Aesir." She called to her mate, where ever he might be. "Come. I have things I wish to talk of." His head might be pounding and his stomach aching, but she wasn't about to let him go just yet.

He'd smelled of other females, coming home the night before. She understood his needs, as a male, and that as the warlord he was indeed a very desireable male...but she'd been surprised to find a twinge of jealousy beating in her chest like a thing alive. He'd not taken any others, that she knew of, but...perhaps it was time to make her position a more permanent one.

Aesir followed his mate and watched wonderingly as she first displaced and then destroyed one of the charms haning up. He didn't know anything about that particular art, the making of charms that is, but he suspected that was not the usual procedure for removing and replacing them. Which was interesting in the extreme, but also a cause for concern, perhaps. It didn't seem very much like Morrigan to act with such violence outside of the requirements of her work.

When she finally spoke Aesir felt a curious combination of emotions: guilt, anger, dismay, and just a little bit of fear. The guilt and fear were two emotions he hated to feel, and he quickly convinced himself that he felt no such thing. The dismay could probably be attributed to a certain wonder that she had noticed or cared enough to remark on the other lioness's scent. The anger was easiest to explain and easiest to cling to. How dare she question him? It was a known fact that Stormborn did these things on vikings.

"You please me," he said, making an effort not to sound as affronted as he felt. He didn't think it would be a good idea to take any sort of truly aggressive tone with her. "Why do you ask?"

"I ask, my husband, because as your wife it is my duty to see that you are always in top condition. That means that you are fuly at ease and sated. If there is somethin I am not providing, that you would seek elsewhere, I would desire to know of it." A glimmer passed through her eyes...The glint of a tear? A sly look of mischeif about to be made? Who could tell.

"I know that this is the way of the Stormborn. To the victors go the spoils. However, my mate, you perhaps might consider caution...While it is one thing for you to promote the idea to your reavers, it is another entirely to have the misfortune yourself of an unknown child, perhaps in vengance, seeking you out, even trying to kill you."

She glanced up at the new charm, a faraway look in her eye. "I have done what I can to protect you, though perhaps it is too late..." She looked back down to him, standing and brushing past him to exit the den. "We shall see. Had I know you would take up with another...I could have changed the charms in time. Perhaps...perhaps the gods will find some luck for you yet though." And she smiled enigmatically at him.