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Still high on his personal victory, Aesir launched into a description of the events of that evening, even though he was sure Morrigan knew them. She hadn't been at the actual meal where the Warlord had died, he didn't think. Given her solitary nature, he didn't think it likely she would have attended, even though it was the first time the former Warlord had been viking for some time and his return had been triumphant. At least briefly.

"It was amazing," he said. "And technically all the forms were followed. She said the words just as you told me they must be said, she turned her argument with him into a challenge to his authority, and said she would see him dead and herself as leader. And he didn't take her seriously and accepted her challenge. And then he died!"

In truth, working through poison and similar agents didn't quite sit well with Aesir, but it had been a necessary evil in this instance. He didn't wish to wait out the entirety of his sentence as a Thrall before challenging again for the position. A Thrall, even when he was only temporarily a Thrall, could issue no challenge.

"Thank you," he said, once more recalling himself and to whom he spoke. He knew that this female was behind his success even more than the silly ball of fluff who had actually performed the actions which placed him in the position of Warlord. It also sank in at that point what she had told him of the future.

"It is good to know that. I have some ideas for solidifying my position, and you do play a part in at least one of them." He waited, withholding information to see how much she would guess at, or if her suggestions would prove better than his plans.

She turned to face him fully, perhaps wondering what he knew. Her plans had never exceeded her station; to be a priestess was more than her job, it was her calling. No one could do better reading the signs than her, and she was content knowing that her purpose and destination in life was in doing her job well. Or so it had been, until she's seen the success of Aesir's plans written in the entrails of some poor beast.

"No thanks are needed. I simply acted as the signs willed me to. I did as fortold, your position was gained. It was as it should be."

She searched his face for a long moment, searched for yet another sign she'd know she'd find. The entrails had spoken of more than their two paths meeting briefly. From the moment she'd agreed to assist the thrall who dreamed above his station her path had become irrevocably wrapped around his. Their two destines were to become one, and not simply for the fact that should his underhandedness be revealed, she too would face the punishment.

"Ask your question of me then, Warlord. Or else be late to your own victory feast." There must be some sacrifice to honor the gods for his victory. She would be the one to make it, if he would just get on with it.

Aesir nodded. He had not been born into the pride, but he was a Stormborn at heart, and he had shed and spilled enough blood among them that no one could deny that he was, indeed, one of them. The gods of the Stormborn were his gods, and if they meant to make him an avatar for change, then he would be only too happy to fulfill their purpose. It was a good thing, though, that he had someone like Morrigan around to tell him what the gods' purpose was, however, because he knew only his own purpose. It was possible that the two purposes were parallel, but the priestess's reassurances would be good to have. They would also make any changes he instituted more palatable for the pride.

Her two breaths, long and slow as they were, gave Aesir's stomach plenty of time to twist into uncomfortable knots. It was a very good offer, and he knew himself to be a desireable lion - more so now that he was the Warlord. He could have made it to any female in the pride and his troth would have been accepted immediately, but he didn't want any other female. He needed Morrigan. He needed to bind her to him, to make certain she would never reveal their complicity in his rise to power, and to have her spiritual connection to the gods to lend legitimacy to his actions as a leader. With her at his side, many lions would think twice and thrice about challenging his authority.

It wasn't quite the acceptance a young lion might hope for from the lioness he asked to be his bride, but it was sufficient for Aesir. He had no illusions about Morrigan. She was a priestess through and through, and her first loyalty and love would always be the gods, harsh and hard as they were. Fortunately for him, the gods seemed to want her with him, for whatever divine reasons they had. He had his secular reasons. Just the same, it was a little bruising to his pride that her acceptance of his proposal seemed to have little enough to do with him as a lion, and more to do with his role as a tool of the gods.

"I will be rid of her," he said. He didn't want her around any more than Morrigan did, though probably for different reasons. He thought his plan quite cunning, actually. "I had thought to use her to buy the loyalty of one of the more reluctant Captains. Despite the fact that she's useless for anything but breeding, she was the wife of a Warlord, and a rich gift. He cannot choose but to be honored."

"Indeed. She will be useful for that much at least. And I suppose she will be glad enough to live." He could have killed her to keep her silent, but he'd not. For that he gained some standing with the priestess.

With measured practice she cleaned the area of her work a final time, tucking the feathers away and searching for any remaining mess. Deciding that it was clean enough she sent a final prayer of thanks to the gods for their gifts in her, and her continued success, before she stepped to Aesir's side. Head up, eyes forward and seemingly uninterested, she motioned for him to lead the way.

"Will you announce these changes at your feast? There is enough turmoil that a bit more will not cause undue distress. And better to clear the slate and exert your power now than to leave them wondering at your strength." His bid for the throne had been so fast in light of the other warlord's death, she understood that he would need to exert himself and show he really was the warlord, and not just a farce.

The idea of leaving her to Morrigan was tempting. He had no doubts about the priestess's ability to put the fear of the gods into the girl. On the other paw, he did not want his first act as Warlord to be that of hiding behind a woman, even a priestess of Morrigan's stature. No. This was something he would have to do for himself, though if Morrigan also decided to take her aside and issue her own warning, that might be a very good way to cement his words to her. He grinned, thinking of the benefits to this partnership between himself and Morrigan, and how they were already making themselves apparent.

"I will tell her that she would be doing me an honor and a service by going willingly with the Captain, and that I wish to keep her safe from harm by placing her in a position where she will not be hurt, should the pride not accept my leadership." He thought that might persuade her. "But your way sounds like it would be as helpful. Perhaps we might both find time to speak to her - separately, of course - before the evening's feast.

Morrigan's reasoning was sound. He guessed that most of the Stormborn would assume that was why the consort had asked that he be named Warlord in the first place. No one could ever mistake her for a warrior. No Reaver, she was of Stormborn stock, but only Freeborn. She would not have been able to defend the position she had won herself. And even if she had been able to, she was not well respected, and never had been. Everyone knew she was not the cleverest of lionesses, and although Warlords didn't have to be geniuses, they definitely had to be smarter than she was.

Morrigan's touch startled him, but he didn't flinch away from it. Barely. He was still a little wary of this fey creature who would be his wife. Her connection to the gods seemed so strong, he couldn't help but be a little unnerved. He hoped she would prove to be more normal after they got used to each other as mates. At least she was very attractive, in a strange, wild way.

"You have preparations, I'm sure, and I'll leave you to them," he said turning his head to touch his nose to her shoulder. "I'll see you this evening...wife." He grinned with wicked anticipation.