"Prepared." She folded her hands in her lap, choosing her words carefully. "Hector's using tradition as a weapon. The idea that lions need male leadership, that the Cross line is weakening because I refuse to yield to a mate, that Hollow Oak's progressive Council is making us vulnerable to outside threats."
"All arguments I've heard before." Varric's expression remained neutral. "From Bram, among others."
"Then let me offer a counter." She leaned forward slightly. "I propose formal reforms to the Cross line structure. Shared leadership models that honor tradition while embracing change. Gender balance in all pride decisions. Documentation that proves strength comes from choice, not enforcement."
Varric studied her for a long moment, his ancient gaze seeing far more than she wanted to reveal. "You're asking me to back a restructuring of one of Hollow Oak's oldest bloodlines."
"I'm asking you to back evolution." She held his stare. "The Veil chose this town as sanctuary for those who don't fit elsewhere. We've built something unique here, something worth protecting. But we can't do that if we're constantly fighting internal battles about who's allowed to lead based on what's between their legs."
A smile ghosted across his weathered face. "Bold words."
"True words." Her lioness rumbled approval. "I've run the Silver Fang for nearly a decade. I've served on guard duty, protected citizens, contributed to this community in every way that matters. The only thing I haven't done is submit to a male alpha's authority, and that's what Hector can't forgive."
"And Dante Deleuve?" The question came casual, but she heard the weight beneath it.
"Is my choice." The words came easier than expected. "If I choose him. When I choose him. But that decision is mine, not the pride's, not tradition's. Mine."
"As it should be." Varric stood, moving to the edge of the glade where ancient runes carved into stone glowed faintly with protective magic. "Your grandmother would be proud, you know. She fought similar battles in her time, though she did it more quietly."
Maeve blinked. "My grandmother?"
"Delilah Cross." He spoke the name with obvious respect. "She was on this Council thirty years ago. Pushed for the same reforms you're proposing now, though she lacked the support to make them permanent. The old guard was stronger then."
"She never told me." Something ached in Maeve's chest, pride and grief tangled together.
"She knew you'd need to find your own path." Varric turned back to face her, his expression softer than she'd ever seen it. "But she left notes. Instructions for when you were ready. I have them in my archives, if you want them."
"I do." Her voice erupted roughly. "Thank you."
"As for your proposal." He moved back to the bench, settling with the weight of centuries in his movements. "I'll back it. Formally, publicly, when the time is right. After the Solstice, after Hector's threat is eliminated, we'll present it to the full Council as a progressive amendment to pride law within Hollow Oak's borders."
Relief flooded through her so strongly her hands trembled. "You mean it."
"I've been waiting for you to ask for twenty years, Maeve." His smile held warmth and something that looked like paternal pride. "You've proven yourself a hundred times over. It's time the Council recognized that officially."
"Bram will fight it."
"Bram fights everything that threatens his narrow worldview." Varric waved a dismissive hand. "But he's outnumbered now, and he knows it. The younger Councilmembers, the ones who've grown up in this version of Hollow Oak, they'll vote for progress. Especially with you as the example."
They talked for another hour, working through logistics and timing, discussing precedents and potential opposition. By the time Maeve left the glade, the sun had started its descent toward the mountains, painting the snow in shades of amber and gold.
She walked back through town slowly, letting the victory settle into her bones. The Silver Fang would survive. The Cross line would evolve. Hollow Oak would remain the sanctuary it was meant to be.
And she'd done it. Not by yielding, not by submitting, but by standing firm and demanding change.
Maeve unlocked the back door to the tavern, needing the familiar space to process everything. She moved through the empty room, trailing her fingers over tables she'd repaired, chairs donated by neighbors, the bar that had stood here longer than she'd been alive.
This place was hers. But it had never been hers alone.
She thought of Twyla bringing coffee every morning this week. Freya helping with protective wards. Cora organizing the cleaning crew. Kieran and Callum replacing broken furniture without being asked. Emmett coordinating security. Moira researching Hector's weaknesses.
Dante, standing beside her through all of it. Giving her space but never leaving. Letting her lead but offering support. Seeing her strength instead of trying to diminish it.
The realization that had been building all week crystallized into perfect clarity.
She'd been so focused on not being claimed that she'd forgotten what it meant to choose. So determined to prove she didn't need anyone that she'd ignored the difference between need and want.
She didn't need Dante. She'd survive without him, run her tavern, protect her town, live her life.
