Titania wins.

She watches with carnal delight as Rougaru grows more and more agitated beneath her skillful touches, his ire rising with his desire to near-fatal levels. She could see it simmering beneath his skin, feel it in the renewed roughness of his teeth upon her spine. The little mare revels in it, in the power she wields over him, the influence she has upon his ever-shifting mood despite having met him only hours ago. It makes her dizzy, and she has to lock her knees and plant her hooves into the ground to steady herself. Just as well, for in a moment’s notice, he’s moving with practiced speed, lunging in an entirely different sort of way towards her. His eyes, wild and dark with pure, instinctual drive, burn into her mind.

There was only one place she’d seen a look like that. It had been years ago, right at the start of her rule as fae queen. Some storm had dragged the carcass of a whale close to shore, begetting a feeding frenzy. She looked at the great teeming mass of grey sharks, watching them tear mindlessly into bleeding flesh. There was something about the predators - their eyes, so black, so lifeless… like bottomless pits, until their prey was caught between their teeth, when they rolled over white.

Rougaru wheels towards her hind end, and she braces for the weight of his form atop her back. The long threads of her tail flip to the side, and her body arches back to meet his embrace. She doesn’t fight him, doesn’t try to break free or escape; she won’t give him the satisfaction of forcing her, though he’s moved more quickly than she’d planned. As he takes her, a sharp hiss pulls from her lips, melting into a sigh. Titania pours all of the tension of the day - of the fighting, her capture, the long swim here, their calculated wordplay on the shore, her looming imprisonment, and the waves of grief and boiling rage that surge, frenzied, out of every last nerve ending - into this moment. Pressure builds within her, threatening to burn her to ash from the inside out. It’s too much, too hard to bear, and with a cry - of ecstasy, or terror, or whatever else, she’ll never be sure - she gives in to the unseen force that drives her, releasing her vicegrip on her control and floating far away.

If she closes her eyes tight and clamps her ears against her skull, she can almost pretend it is Rille, not this slavering, rabid beast, who holds her so intimately close.

As quickly as it starts, it’s over. Rougaru slumps over her, spent, and she takes in the humid air around them in great panting gulps. Titania slowly drifts back to awareness, grounding herself in the slight tremble of her tired legs and the damp strings of her mane clinging to her sweat-slicked coat. Her skin twitches under his dragging teeth, her ears pressing back at the sound of the silver bay’s voice. Now that she’s sated, exhausted and hungry and covered in salt and bruises, she finds her patience for his little games fading quickly.

She’s come too far, pulled too many strings, to get to this point, though, and she will not squander all that she’s worked so hard for. “Only time will tell if your strength has surpassed that of my stallion’s,” she mumbles, leaning into his touch only so that she can clamp her teeth around the soft flesh of his ear and yank it in half-hearted reproach. The star-streaked mare places the thinnest sliver of space between them, fixing him with the same hard look he has no doubt grown used to. “Well?” she blurts, tossing her head in the direction of the jungle. “Are you going to show me this place you wanted to bring me to so goddamned badly, or am I supposed to do it all by myself?” She tilts her head, some of that same fire still crackling behind her narrowed eyes. “Fae forbid a jungle cat picks off your hard-won little dove so soon after dragging it all the way home.”

All she wants, now, is to bathe the salt from her skin, grab a few mouthfuls of food and rest. The sooner she sleeps, the closer she will be to the day that Rille returns for her, and the sooner she can stop pretending she has submitted willingly to the thief who dares to steal her away and unleash the fury that still somehow lurks deep within her gut. She will bide her time, play the game as it’s meant to be played… and wait, patiently and determinedly, for the perfect moment in which to strike.