I made a silent note to myself, ever aware of the lack of etiquette that these Amazonians seemed to possess. I had asked the smiling mare for her name, and in return I had expected her to do the same, but instead of remembering her courtesies she blathered on about the weather. I regarded her with a believable but forced smile, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at her overly optimistic prediction about the blizzard that was raging just outside our shelter. It was in my nature to give others the benefit of the doubt, as that is what ladies do, but somehow in the short time that I had spent with this, Giselle, she had already begun to rub me the wrong way.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet you, Giselle. I am Godiva Rhoynar, Princess of the Great Isle in the Western Sea, but you may call me Godiva, if it pleases you,” I spoke in a chilled voice, as I stared over at the other mare who was half hidden by Shira’s giant frame. It was not lost to me how plain her features were. There was little doubt in my mind that she was some sort of mongrel mutt, and it might be from there that I drew my repugnance for the mare. Mutts and mix breeds are a detriment to us all, especially to those of us whose blood had remained pure after hundreds of years of careful pairings. But I knew deep down I could not fault the girl, for one does not chose their dam and sire, it was just luck was not on her side.

With an elegant and notably cool nod, I nestled back in beside Shira as she lowered to her knees creating an impenetrable wall of warmth from the stray gusts as they flitted in from the outside. My body tensed when Shira proposed her idea, for Giselle to show me the Peak after the storm slowed; as if there was much to see. But a smile displayed kindly over my face, leaving my true feeling to go unnoticed. “That would be splendid!” I exclaimed with as much exuberance as I could muster. I glanced over Shira massive shoulders as she knelt next to me, peering at the mutt mare with my well-worn smile. “As long as you don’t mind, Giselle.”

As my massive companion began to digress unto the weather once more, my gaze wandered from the silvery dun mare to gaze at the other side of the rocky cavern, and I began feeling very displeased with myself. Here I was huddle up with two mares, only one of which was pure of blood and neither of my own, hiding from the worst weather I had ever seen, virtually homeless, unless I was willing to refer to this frozen wasteland as my humble abode, which I was not, and to top it all off I was carrying a bastard who may or may not survive this uninhabitable climate. This had not been how I had pictured my life, but the wheel had already been set in motion and my child was pure, and though I had failed at finding a forever mate and/or home, at least I had done one thing right in finding the perfect seed to help pass along my flawless genes.

Shira’s voice pulled me from my self-loathing but I had almost wished I hadn’t heard her. I looked into her face, my own face a mixture of guilt and fear. I had not intended discussing my situation with anyone, and this looked like the beginning of a very uncomfortable conversation. How would it look if a princess of pure birth was carrying a bastard child regardless of the pureness of its blood? The thought of anyone knowing of my debauchery concerning the ebony stallion from the meadow, caused my blood to turn cold as ice. I glanced away from the giantess, composing my face into an ambiguous mask of stone, making certain to not give away the lie I was about to tell. “Yes, Shira, I am. You must think it strange for me not to be with the father, yes? Well if truth be told, I am alone because as fate would have it, my child’s father… well he…died,” I turned my delicate skull to peer over the other mares, gauging their expressions as I tried to appear heartbroken over the realization of the death of my beloved lord who never existed.




G O D I V A
Mare - Rose Grey (ee Aa Gg) - Arabian - 3yrs - 15.0


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