It's not that she wants to blame Sig. More than anything she wants to believe that both he and her father are devoid of any wrongdoing, but she knows this is not the case. Sigurdr is perhaps less to blame, considering he was not the one who had held the land in which Siobhan was held, nor the one that had once held her whole heart in his hands as daddy had. Nor was he even an adult, capable of putting a stop to any of it. But Sig is here, and Bjorn is not, and regardless of how fair it was to blame him, she couldn't stop.

It was like someone had finally punctured an abscess deep inside her heart and she could not stop the flow until all the poison had been let out.

His initial defense did nothing to warm the filly to him, considering that it was hardly even a defense. He may not have known that Nyimara was going to do it until Siobhan arrived, but surely he had to have known that her/their mother would never have willingly left any child behind. Hell, she'd even felt guilty for not being able to rescue Sigurdr when Ailill had finally managed to free her. The last thing she would have done would be to swim to a distant land without her daughters.

"Nothing, Sig?! Can you really think of nothing?" Her voice is screechy and harsh, her tiny black-rimmed ears pinned into her messy mane. "He made her Queen, Sig. He gave her the power and then didn't stop her."

As he steps forward, she steps back, her entire being torn with the warring desires of wanting to wrap herself in his embrace and strike at him until she collapsed. "You didn't stop her." She says weakly, the worst part of the whole thing, the part that scared her the most bubbling up before she could stop it or soften it or even hide from it's harsh truth. "Nobody is stopping her and now momma is going to have to have his baby and I can't stop her either."

Even his assurances that Bjorn would return her mother fell on deaf ears. She doesn't trust anyone anymore. Ailill had tried and failed. Siobhan had tried and failed. Even Faolain had done what she could, but evil just kept winning. It didn't make any sense to her, and the more she tried to fit the puzzle pieces into some semblance of organization, the more they refused to budge. Why had any of it happened?

There's no indication her will to be separate is weakening until it crumbles and she rushes the last few steps to his side, desperate to glean even one small speck of goodness from this moment. She had not forgiven him, not in the slightest, but he was her brother. He was a source of comfort to her even when things were bad, if not especially moreso at those times. Wishing she could blot out reality, the yearling buried her face into her brother's neck, cramming herself as tightly against him as she can. Words, mumbled and barely audible in the scant space she leaves them spill out of her as the real tears begin in earnest. "Why can't I keep her safe?"

FILLY | MUTT | 14.3 HANDS WFG | BAY DUN SABINO | THE RIDGE | BJORN x SIOBHAN | LOVEINSPIRED | CREDIT