What was it they argued over, she wondered. Something stupid, no doubt, perhaps even some new spawn of Zeus' that Hera found out about. An incorrigible beast, that one, hardly better than an animal. How he'd managed to sit atop the highest throne on Olympus was beyond her, but nobody dared try and depose him. She had never cared to, herself, with a job more important than ruling and playing with mortals from the pantheon.

Sin heaved a quiet sigh, and the soft ripple of water went unnoticed. She continued padding along, only just barely paying attention to where she was going, and nearly jumped from her pelt as Tyr's silky summons touched her ears. Astraios nearly fell from her shoulders, only just keeping himself upright by hooking his beak into her scruff. She earned a pinch hard enough to break skin a little, but hardly noticed. Her heart thundered in her ears as she sullenly turned her paws towards her adoptive father.

Father. Tyr fit that role, didn't he? He'd never asked it of her, and she'd stubbornly claimed Cupid was her only parent all of her life anyway... but that had never been true, unruly as she was about it. He'd come after her when she was gone too long, he'd always been there caring for Papa if not directly her. He'd trained her, guided her, supported her. But it was just her, now, that remained in a place less connected to the mighty king. Bragi and Astrid were her only remaining littermates, but even they had the benefit of actually being Tyr's daughters. Not her, the grey-eyed wanderer. Not her, the shadow-kissed child. Not her, so much like Loki in looks and personality alike. Some days, it was hard not to wish her pelt was adorned with the blues or golds marking her as a real fra Stjernene instead of holding the title privately against her heart like some terrible secret - or at least, not have a single feature from either so that none might ever have been able to tell.

Faðir, she whispered in return as she caught sight of him through the crimson fog, hoping immediately after it left her mouth that she hadn't dared and he didn't hear her. To make things worse, Bragi was right there, and Sindri hung her head with a flicker of shame. What right had she, to ask for something from Tyr she didn't know if she could return?
How would she feel if he called her daughter?
Was Bragi's face all twisted up like that because she heard and didn't approve, or because sometimes that was just what her littermate looked like when her son hadn't been squished?