Plot bunny about Captain Renard's wedding ring.

Don't own Grimm. Don't own Renard, although I'd like to.

One Month Ago.

The chamber was lit with seven torches. The light glancing off the dark marble of the walls. On a raised Dias heavy wooden chairs sat. They formed a half circle around the room. Six of the seven chairs were filled. The chair in front of the royal blue banner emblazoned with the lion's head was empty. The floor slightly sloped to the center to a small drain. Ancient weaponry filled the walls.

The representatives of the royal families sat in angered silence. The Verrat were convened.

She stood infront of the dour men with the grace of a goddess. Dark hair glimmered in the light. Black dress lightly swaying in the slight draft, she waited for their pronouncement. Subtle anger played across her face. Not all of the families were here.

"Make no mistake about this." Growled the man in the center of the Dias. "Your head or his!"

Making no reply she gave a slight bow and left the chamber.


Detective Burkhardt sat at his desk perusing old crime scene photos. Not everyone involved Wessen, although even they died from regular causes.

The one that caught his eye though was the death of a man two weeks ago. The he had met his end, murdered by his mechanic. It took Nick and Hank two days and a car expert to narrow it down. Come to find out the victim was playing around with the wife of the guy.

It was strangely satisfying to Nick that nothing magical or Grimm-like was needed. Just good old fashioned police work was called for.

Looking back at the police photos though someone in the crowd watching the accident caught his eye. A woman dress in a dark dress with long dark curly hair was looking at the detectives and not the crime scene with everyone else.

At first his breath caught in his throat that his mother might be back in town. But the female looked younger and slimmer. 'I've seen her before', he thought.

Pulling out photos from the arson fire last week, there she was in the crowd. They always took pictures of bystanders because arsonists love to watch their work. In the back, looking at the police not the fire she almost directly looked at the camera.

Again at the murder of a small businessman, shot during a hold-up, downtown. Again no clear shot of her face, she was too far away; but, Nick knew it was her.

She was watching them.

Captain Renard walking in his front door knew immediately that someonelse was there. Pulling his service pistol he was determined not to get caught flat footed again. He didn't know who had the balls to invade his home but it wasn't going to be pretty for them.

Coming around the corner into his living room he saw her standing by the floor to ceiling windows.

"Well," she said. "That's a hell of a greeting."

The captain placed his pistol on the counter and removed his overcoat. He threw it over the back of the chair as he went to stand in front of her. Reaching out he caught her chin in his hands he lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. Searching the deep blue pools his green eyes looked for explanations, meanings. He gently caressed her neck he drew her in.

His lips devoured hers. Hungry tongue pleading for entrance and it was granted. His hand caressed down the slope of her back. Holding her firmly to let her know there would be no escape until he was done.

Her hands were inside of his suit jacket. Her nails ran down the front of his shirt. He caught his breath. Slight chuckle in her throat when she felt him tremble under her touch.

'Always so in control', she thought. 'Nice to know I can make him break it.'

With a swift movement he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

She stared into his green eyes as she removed his jacket. Her hands enjoyed the feel of his silk shirt that was eagerly removed. So agonizingly slow she moved to remove his pants.

The whole roomed vibrated with power. Hunger and need in her kisses as she tasted him. Hands squeezed the hard muscles of his back, his ass.

He gripped her shoulders making it clear that now it was his turn to undress her. He explored her ample bosom with his hands, mouth. He kissed and nibbled achingly slowly down her body. He chuckled lightly to himself when his mouth brought her to ecstasy. Strong but gentle arms encircled her when he made his entrance.

He held her to his chest, the dark sheets pooled around their waists. Her delicate fingers traced circles in the sweat on his chest. They laid there in a respite from their passion. He kissed the top of her head.

He finally spoke, "Wife."