In truth, if Rougaru had not threatened to separate mother from son, Vanya would have laughed in the face of the Peak mare that offered rescue. She would have continued her attempts to win over another stallion to the point that they would fight for her and adore her in the manner that she wished, but Rougaru had unleashed a well of molten anger that bubbled and seethed in her chest without relief.

Vanya may have never wanted to have Drogon in the first place, but that didn't mean she didn't love the colt with every fiber of her cold heart. He was her pride and joy. A small, perfect creation from her own glorious body and he was wholly, entirely, hers. Rougaru, despite his wishful thinking and belated attempt, had not sired the colt, and yet he presumed to take him from her by dangling her freedom as bait. And as if to add insult to injury, he had then taken her beneath him forcefully and given her yet another child to suffer through.

Granted, she had all but baited him into it, but the fact remained that she had not lifted her tail for him.

Vanya was saved from her musings by Nekharat's follow up question, and Vanya nodded. "The Thicket, I believe." She had little idea where this mythical thicket was in the grand scheme of things across the islands, but she remembered Titania referencing it the first time they had met. She had seemed so certain that Rille would come for her, but Vanya was unconvinced. Clearly Rille had already lost her once, and it wasn't unfathomable to assume that he could do so again.

A new figure approached, and Vanya stiffened again, her long slender neck drawing upward. There was an aura about this new arrival that left Vanya fully aware of the tension that crackled between the three of them. Having no knowledge of the Peak hierarchy, nor of any details regarding Wasp or her past, Vanya could only conclude that either Nekharat had broken some sort of rule by rescuing them, or the girls had previously had problems. For now, the roan mare remains quiet, her pink nostrils flaring quietly while they spoke.

Drogon, not yet comfortable enough with this new place to truly leave his mother for long, wound his way back into the conversation by sidling along his dam's side. In some ways, ways she did not want to admit, the colt resembled Rougaru more than her. Drogon hadn't even been sired by the silvered stallion, and yet Drogon was a similar dark chocolate shade. Thankfully, his mane and tail remained dark like her own and his regal carriage had been influenced by her own bloodlines.

Flicking an ear toward her son, Vanya's dished face inclines stiffly in belated greeting now that the two of them had exchanged their questions. "Hello." She wasn't sure if she would ever be truly confident around mares, but she resolved to not let herself be cowed by this new arrival, no matter how much authority she carried. "I'm Vanya, and this is Drogon."