VaLkA

mare / four / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

The differences between the tall golden stallion and the sturdy, shaggy little mare went well beyond their polarized appearances. Even beneath the surface, they were as fire and water to each other - though which element that each represented seemed to shift from moment to moment. Perhaps it was because they were both striving to understand one another, and to find something to breach the widening chasm that existed between them. Because there were no number of differences that could change the bare and undeniable truth - the child still growing in Valka’s belly had tied their fates together, regardless of whether they had any desire for such a bond.

And so Valka did her best to force the tension from her body, unclenching her jaw and nodding a silent acceptance to the Cove king’s explanation of why he had brought Mazarine to his home. While she could never be convinced to abandon her belief that each individual should have a right to choose their own path, his reasoning did make sense. If the mare had not been happy in the Desert, it made sense to offer her another home - although Solomon had not offered, of course. And Valka was not so gullible as to believe that he had put his body at risk of harm in battle for strictly selfless reasons. But if selfishness in itself was a crime, then even the skjaldmær could be found guilty of it. It wasn’t as if she had challenged for the Bay out of any charitable motivations, after all. No, Valka had wanted a home - and the Bay had suited her, despite already having an established herd.

Solomon’s reasoning for Mazarine’s silence carried the ring of truth to it as well. When she’d first arrived here on the islands, and then been thrusted from Ironclad to Rougaru and then finally freed - she, too, had felt uneasy. Like the ground would shift beneath her again, and some new chasm would open up to swallow her. Perhaps she simply needed the assurance and support that Valka offered in order to regain her confidence. Time would tell - and she would not allow much more of it to pass before confronting this particular issue. Bristling slightly - despite her effort to remain relaxed and neutral - at the champagne male’s next words, Valka responded in clipped syllables that spoke clearly her frustration at what she felt were doubt and accusation. “Of course I tell. When I say she is free, I mean. She will choose, and I will support choice.”

Silence followed, awkward and weighty and leaving plenty of time for the pony-sized mare to regret even this brief flare of temper. The blame could not be entirely placed on Solomon, of course, but he did seem to draw such reactions from her with as much ease as the waves on the Bay’s shore drew the scattered detritus of pebbles back into the sea. In a way, he reminded her of Rougaru - so certain in himself and his actions that he could not take that single step back to recognize where they were reprehensible, and embrace the possibility of change. But as if to prove her wrong, he softened and with a gesture that left no doubt as to the meaning of his words, inquired about the health of the child. Their child.

“Not know. Never have child before… never want to, never mean to. But I am taking care of self, and will take care of him too.” The foal’s gender could not be known before the birth, of course - but Valka assigned it the masculine pronoun regardless, unaware that the word had even left her lips. She was too focused on Solomon’s seemingly uncomfortable confession, and the misgivings he seemed to harbor drew Valka’s own doubts from her in an unwelcome rush. “In homeland, warrior-women not have children. Only remember one who got pregnant, after raid by enemy tribe. When we rescue her, she was shamed, and stripped of rank. Spent rest of life as zhnitsa - forced to bear children for tribe.” The twist of the skjaldmær’s lips and the flick of her blonde tail expressed her disagreement with this judgment. It hadn’t been the warrior’s fault, and the injuries she’d sustained made it clear that she had not surrendered her womb willingly.

In that, at least, she had proven more worthy of her title than Valka.

At least the next question that Solomon asked of her was far easier to answer - even if the fluffy chestnut knew her response would only serve to draw them into deeper disagreement. “No,” she answered simply, offering neither explanation nor sympathy with the single syllable. There was no benefit that Valka could see in allowing this stallion to visit the Bay while her attention was divided between protecting a herd and raising a child - especially given their evident lack of harmony. He had already attacked and driven away her only ally within the boundaries of her own home. And once Valka was separated from the life-spark of the child within her, Solomon had little reason to continue this uneasy truce - and less than before its conception, since she’d relieved him of one of his beloved trinkets.