Like parted souls, divided for an age ;;

Three years had passed so quickly since Narvik had been born to her bastard of a father and her whore of a mother. So what was Narvik? A whorstard? Whatever the hell Narvik was, she knew she wasn’t anything pretty, sweet, or nice. Those kinds of adjectives didn’t really fit her bill. The frilly-fu-fu stuff was not her cup of tea. She lived for better things in life…like rage, destruction, etc.

Even from the moment she was born, Narvik had been used to commit evil acts. Hell, the hour she was born, she was forced to try and lure Tia Maria into a trap so her parents could attack her, kidnap her, and take her to Rencor. Only then could she get the first meal that any foal would need. But that had never happened and so, Narvik was practically abandoned to live on her own.

Oh how fate loved to toy with their lives! It would only be amusing that the same young filly who had tried to capture Tia Maria would be the same mare that would later fuck her son! It was irony that any sane person would laugh at. Narvik didn’t really give a shit. When she had been in the throes of passion with Zareth, she had no fucking idea that it would lead to some kind of alien moving around in her abdomen. If she had known that she would lose her figure and have to deal with an insane amount of kicking and general uncomfortableness, she never would have signed up for this job. Narvik wasn’t a mother.

This brings us to why Narvik was even in the Isles to begin with. This thing…this alien…growing inside her was about to be her undoing. She hated the fact that her abdomen was getting fatter and she was losing her ability to run fast and move with ease. There was nothing good about being pregnant. Even if Narvik would be enjoying the baby at the end of the journey, she wasn’t sure she would want to mess with it again. This was probably going to be her first and last baby. This was so not worth it!

So as Narvik enters the Isles, she makes a point to glare at ANYONE looking at her swollen abdomen. Now, it they were admiring her hot steel-blue tiger stripes, she would let them. But 9 of 10 horses were looking at the signs of her pregnancy and so she made it known that she wanted nothing to do with their sorry asses. And when she finally find the scaly prince by the water, she picked up her pace and paused beside him. “You have two choices. I can kill your bastard or you can take it.” Narvik wasn’t a mare who beat around the bush. She liked to get to the point and make it quick.