You don’t want to guilt her by asking if she’s dissatisfied with what she has, so, instead, you ask her if she <i>could</i> have more, what would she want? The Qim might be the ‘provider’ of the pair, but you’ll be damned if either of your mates are left wanting. Mating isn’t just about the sex: it’s about togetherness with someone that loves you and accepts you, through tranquility and hardship.
Nykke hesitates at the question. <i>If I am honest,</i> she says psionically, her mind having an easier time expressing it than her mouth, <i>what I want most is to be normal. I am not a Frostwyrm, and I am not an ausar{PC is neither Frostwyrm nor ausar:, and I am not a [pc.race]}.</i> The link between you two gets fuzzy for a moment, and Nykke takes a quick, wet sniff through her nose. <i>I could get past not having a single mate to myself, and I can even understand what you mean when you say that I should be thankful for having more than what most other Frostwyrms have, but I will never be able to change what I am, no matter how much I want to, and that is what hurts me the most.</i>
You can think of any number of responses to that – that uniqueness should be celebrated, or that what she is isn’t what’s important – but it’s clear to you that what Nykke has isn’t something that can be <i>reasoned</i> away. It’s two-hundred years of self-loathing that’s been steadily building, and now, even after being rewarded for her patience with two mates, she can’t bring herself to look past her own self-image.
Instead, you do the first thing that comes to mind when you see that your mate is hurting: you reach over her, your hand grabbing her far shoulder, and you pull her to you, hugging her, your nose to hers and your shoulders squared. You hold her tightly to you, feeling her heart beat into your chest, and you feel her long, shuddering breaths wash against your neck. It takes her a moment to respond in kind, her two left arms coming over to hug you tightly to her.
You tell Nykke that you and [fw.name] are her mates, and nothing will ever change that.
Nykke holds her breath for a moment, her forehead pressed to yours. <i>Thank you, my Qal,</i> she says, her grip on you tightening, almost as if you’ll float away if she lets go.
You and Nykke lie together in the solace of her lair, enjoying each other’s company in total silence. It’ll take more than a hug to heal the scarring she’s had to bear all her life… but it’s a start.