She was his.
She should have known it from the begining, but she didn't. She should have groveled and served him from the moment she heard his title, but she didn't. He had killed his subjects for less, but she wasn't dead.
No, this creature was living, breathing, fighting. She laughed and cried. She cared for the ill and killed those who were a scourge upon his land. In a sense she was a good vassal, a perfect subject as she did his work willingly. But, justa s she was unaware of his ownership, she was unaware she helped him. So was his brother, but then again his brothers pack belonged to him just as much as She did, as much as his lands and his life.
But she would learn, she would learn soon just how much she belonged to him.
How much he belonged to her in return.
The sun will always set in the west, the sunset belonged to the west. And the west belonged to the sunset.