If there was one thing Marceline did not miss of her previous life, it was the stallion she'd once called her mate. He hadn't been a mate of her choosing by any means, forced upon her by overbearing parents who held their power and titles in higher regard than their own flesh and blood. They'd auctioned their daughter away for merit and status and had given her no choice in the matter. Naturally she had despised the old man from the first day she met him until the day she was forcefully dethroned and even beyond. If she'd been successful in her thwarted plans, the old fool would have been in her place now. Fate was a fickle bitch. Still Marceline wished nothing but ill intent on her former king and "lover," bitterness running deep to her core and seeping into her soul.
She envied those who could say they felt differently about their departed loved ones.
Heaving a sigh, Marceline shook her head and continued her ambling pace through the Commons. It was an off kind of day for her today. She was thinking far too much about times gone by and not enough about her — and Salem's — future. But opportunity presented itself among her distractions, in the form of a sleeping stallion.
She came upon him entirely by accident. In fact she was nearly on top of him before she noticed him, so lost in her own mind. She came to an abrupt halt and already had her pink lips parted and a clever comment half-formed before she realized he was unconscious. But the slumber that claimed him was deep, and he didn't stir as she slowly crept closer to get a better look at him. He was a pretty golden color, vibrant like the sun or a blooming daffodil. The hue reminded her of — of her son. Not the one in the Dunes. The metaphorical golden child, destined for the throne. Inside her chest her heart clenched but she swallowed the feeling down. He was gone now, too.
Marceline watched the stallion for only a moment, then decided it best to leave him where he was and make her retreat. But something about the halcyon stallion held her attention and so she lingered, settling herself into a little copse of nearby trees and watching him sleep. Sharp orange eyes never left his figure. It was highly uncouth, but Marceline had never been the most polite lady in the world. It was part of the reason she'd ended up here on these Islands the first place.
Time slid by like cold honey, the pace too slow for the speckled queen's liking. At one point she considered waking him up herself. But eventually he stirred and two red ears pricked forward in interest. Marceline stepped closer. He was still a ways away so she felt confident that he wouldn't see her staring so openly at him when he woke, amber gaze fixed to spotted hide. She observed silently as he made an unceremonious half-roll backwards and that seemed to be enough to plant him firmly back in the waking world. And the squeal he gave certainly let everyone in the area know.
Marceline pursed her lips to keep herself from laughing. It wasn't that she was laughing at him... well, maybe just a little. His plight amused her, but in her chest she also feels the tiniest sting of sympathy for him. Poor thing. 'I really should get to him before anyone else does,' she thought. Someone else surely would have taken an interest in his little fit.
The desert queen strode over to him with all the confidence befitting her title. Before even speaking she reached out and brushed her lips across the point of his hip — the one that wasn't stained in mud. It was a gesture any king or queen was familiar with and one she had used shamefully little in her time since acquiring the Hills.
"You know," she said after, "where I live there's no mud and certainly no pesky nip in the air either." That wasn't entirely true — Salem's temperatures could get dreadfully low at night even in the dead of summer, but some information had to be spared and Marceline felt no shame in lying by omission. "You can come with me." It was less asking his permission and more giving hers. She was doing him a favor, after all — if this was how he reacted to some mud, he certainly wouldn't fare well with the snow. "I'll tell you all about it on the way there."
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