VaLkA

mare / four / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

As Solomon cannot grasp the world in which Valka grew up, so she still had difficulty understanding the world which she was now a part of. In her birthland, only women were permitted to guard the sanctity of a king, and these polinitsa were revered as much as he. But so far, none of the males she had encountered showed anything but disdain for the Yakut and her hard-earned abilities. Ironclad had simply offered her as a pound of flesh to the first king whose favors he could acquire. Rougaru had sought to bend her to his will - not understanding that the will of this particular mare was adamantine. And now that she was a ruler in her own right, more than one rogue stallion had thought to prey upon her, presuming her weakness - and one had even succeeded. Even Solomon, who had faced her in combat more than once - and lost one of his mares to her - did not seem to afford the skjaldmær as much respect as he likely would a male in her position.

It was baffling and infuriating - and hurt worse than Valka cared to admit.

So she might have expected to feel at least a moment of petty satisfaction from the clear aggravation that the champagne stallion felt at being denied access to his son. It wasn’t about the safety of the child, of course - the Bay’s guardian had met some of Solomon’s offspring, and they seemed well cared for. It was the safety of her herd that concerned the shaggy red mare, and she could not trust the Cove’s ruler from what she knew of him so far. That he did not necessarily believe in another’s right to freedom was only one issue. She also knew him to be aligned with Warsaw, whose son had sold Valka to her initial fate, and who would undoubtedly be an enemy of hers for her alliance with Bjorn. And, of course, there was the dangerous truth that a small part of her wanted to trust this stallion. Because he had sired this child, because he had proven himself to be worthy of respect. But trusting him was a mistake that she could not afford to make if she were to have any hope of surviving in this unforgiving land.

“I did not say that he not get chance to know you,” the obstinate mare replied in the same tone that both had now adopted; the careful neutrality beneath which lurked hints of hostility and something else. Something less negative, but just as undesirable - at least in Valka’s case. A new resolve lent strength to her voice, which brooked no argument when she continued. “You not come see because I not want in Bay. Instead, I will let him go to see you, when old enough.” Without the experience that a broodmare might boast, the fluffy chestnut could not commit to when that might be. And, of course, she would also never force such a visit of the child if it was content to remain in the Bay. But just as she had agreed to make Mazarine’s freedom to choose clear to the mare, so would their offspring be free to make their own decision.

Such a vow was easy to make in the cold of winter, before spring separated her life from the existence of the child that she carried. What Valka could not fathom is that it would become more difficult to keep her word after her son or daughter had become part of this world - after she had cared for it, interacted with it, and come to love it. Love, after all, was not something that the skjaldmær had experience with - particularly the unique bond that typically existed between a mother and her child. But in the moment that she spoke them, at least, Valka’s words rang true. She would not deny the foal the chance to meet their sire - so long as that sire respected the border between Cove and Bay. So long as Solomon understood that whatever had resulted in her surrender that day had long since passed. Hormones or adrenaline or fatigue, it didn’t matter.

He might have been permitted to claim her for a single coupling, but he did not own Valka. And when they interacted such as they were now, she would not allow it to be as anything less than equals. Thus when she yielded ground to him, it was expected that the tobiano stallion would grant her the same. Any attempts to trespass in the Bay would be met not only with force, but with an immediate end to any understanding or friendship that had been established between them. Rougaru’s arrogance and cruelty had soured the Yakut enough that she was wary of all who shared his gender. Only Goose had somehow managed to find a fissure in the stone walls that Valka had erected around herself, and begin to earn her trust. But Goose was gone, and in his absence the pony-sized mare had become even more guarded.