The more Rougaru speaks, the more Titania is sure he truly does not know or understand her. He only knows her superficially: her appearance, her smell, the way her flesh boils with hot ichor beneath the cool damp of her salt-crisp coat. He knows she hasn’t come willingly, knows she will not cower before him like some shrinking violet, knows she will use the weapons of her body against him with reckless abandon… but what he might not know, or might not even care to notice, is that Titania is no stranger to games. She knows the sport she plays, knows it as intimately as only one who has spent her entire life playing little games would. The star-studded mare wasn’t plucked from the masses to become Oberon’s treasured queen for nothing. When she plays, she plays to win. Even now, as Rougaru’s harsh nips turn to soft caresses and animalistic desire grows in the tones of his voice, Titania knows she’s gaining the upper hand.

It’s been so long since she was able to indulge herself, to dance with the shadows lurking ever-present in the back of her mind. Something about the all-encompassing darkness of Paradise, the righteous anger still simmering inside her, the energy crackling between her and her captor… it drags the worst parts of her out, bringing a wicked smirk to her elegant face. Rougaru’s muzzle brushes against the muscled swell of her breast, and she sucks in another sharp breath, though this time the air between her teeth has less blind wrath behind it, and more… something else. Something she dares not name. Though she hates him, she cannot deny the way her body responds to his continued nearness, the way her heart pounds in her chest and the tension in her muscles cries out for release. One ear flicks back in response to his question, and though she wants to curl her lips in disgust and wipe that haughty smile from his face, she keeps her expression neutral. “I never lose,” she retorts, her voice still low. That’s not true; she’s lost today, lost her home and her stallion and the way of life she’s dreamed about for months… but Titania is nothing if not dynamic, flowing like cool water around the obstacles in her path. She will twist and shape and mold this new life to benefit her, even if she doesn’t know quite what that looks like yet, and make Rougaru think it was his idea - for now.

The stolen queen hears the subtle warning in his voice. She pushes down the continued irritation at his refusal to use her name, and only her name, and adds it to the growing list of offenses made against her. She remains quiet for a moment, letting his words hang like thick fog between them, and pulls her nose from his skin to meet his gaze with her own, hard steel flickering in their murky depths. “How presumptuous of you, sir, to assume what I would and would not enjoy,” she finally says, her voice softening. Titania’s eyes flick across his body, noting the ease with which he stands so close to her. It would be so easy… so simple… to unleash the passion coiled like a spring within her for yet more violence. All in due time, she reminds herself. Slowly, with the precision of a hunter stalking its prey, she presses her side further into his, resuming her lingering touches upon his neck. Her nose traces the thick cords of his crest, and she speaks again, her tones laced with hidden meaning.

“I have played these games before, with my stallion,” she murmurs. Her tail swings back and forth, the scent of her heady perfume filling the air between them, even as she subtly rebukes the title he claims to have over her. “But there’s a chance that nothing has come of it.” Titania pulls back, lifting her long neck and tilting her head to peer at him sidelong. She lets the silence stretch, allowing the unspoken implications of her words to do the work for her.

“I don’t know you very well,” she finally admits, her words barbed once more, “but it seems rather out-of-character for you to spend all this time and effort to take me as yours and not finish the job.” The dark mare returns to her place against his skin, “coincidentally” bumping her hips against his, and dares to bring her lips to the spot where his cheek meets his throat, her words hot against the black-edged curve of his ears.

“I didn’t know you were so weak.” She reaches for a bit of his mane, giving it just enough of a tug to send his skin rippling where the silvery threads take root. “Look at yourself… giving up so easily. All bark and no bite.” Pathetic, she thinks, disgust rising in her throat. Titania shoves it down, keeping her voice sultry even as she mocks him. Again she snickers, allowing her teeth to graze tantalizingly against the thin skin at his poll. Her eyes, nearly black with the intensity of the emotions cycling rapid-fire throughout her veins, fix upon his, daring him. Challenging him. Beckoning him.

“You could make this easier, Rougaru, should you ask and not simply take.” Her tail cracks like a whip against her hindquarters, then, making sure to glance like stinging nettles against his own. “Unless you doubt the strength of your own influence...” Titania knows what she implies, knows the danger she courts - and still she pushes her chess pieces towards it, testing her limits. She can’t help herself. It brings her a sick sort of joy to press all of his buttons, one after the other, and bask in the warmth of his irritation. Even now, as she needles and worms her way under his skin, she wants to know what it is, exactly, that will push him over the edge.