Common

Titania has waited so long for this moment. She knows Vanya as nothing more than a trophy mare, the venom on her tongue her best and only weapon - but the petty insults she throws out fall on deaf ears. The speckled woman is too busy savoring the taste of metal in her mouth, too consumed with the urge to bring her former captor to her knees. Vanya spins around, offering access to her flank in the process of taking away her red-stained neck, and Titania gladly takes the opportunity to clamp her maw down onto that tender area, striking like a viper. So focused is she on her attempts to make the wench submit that she doesn't even notice the steel-grey stallion until he's fully entered the fray. His pinching teeth on her shoulder almost don't register, but then he enters her line of sight, blocking access to her prize as it scuttles cowardly behind him. Titania squeals, swinging her hips towards him and kicking out with one strong hind leg.

The hell is wrong with you? he asks, and if looks could kill, the Queen of the Desert would have struck him down on the spot. Fucking men. What was it with them - in the Common especially - that drew them to her like flies, always sticking their nose in her business? A man had gone where he did not belong and stole her from the Thicket, two had tried to claim her on her last trip here, and another had followed her around Salem, and for what? She always escaped. It might take years, but she'd done it every time, and with each new violation, and each sweet taste of liberation, she became less and less inclined to sit back and let it happen. Titania was a cursed thing, leaving doom and broken families and fallen kingdoms in her wake, and the sooner foolish colts like this one learned to avoid her, the better, lest their lives be choked to ruin by fate's wicked, grasping hands.

The painted minx sets her jaw to working, spewing falsehoods as easily as breathing, and Titania can't help but snicker, spitting red into the sea of green at her hooves. "Lying again, Vanya?" Her voice sits low in her throat, rumbling with the promise of danger like a panther's hidden purr.

Her eyes lift, seeing past the stallion and locking onto hers. Vanya's own long lashes shimmer with crocodile tears, while Titania's are very real, and it makes her sick to watch this woman she's come to know as a spiteful, vicious creature play at innocence. Rage rises in her chest again, burning hot in her throat. She chokes back a sob, shoulders quivering, and lashes her tail against her hindquarters.

Titania had spent so much time crying over the damage Vanya'd wrought upon her. Weeks, months, years she'd wasted in the darkness of her despair, while the Queen of Paradise pranced around thriving on the spoils of everything she'd snatched away. But that time was over. Now Vanya was nothing, and Titania would use every last bit of her renewed power to remind her of it, over and over, every single day, for as long as she was able.

She just had to get rid of this stallion, first.

"You know exactly what I want," the small mare says, fighting to keep the tremble from her voice. She edges ever-closer, tracing around the pair in a wide berth, looking for an opening. Her steps quicken, muscles tensed beneath her, and when she charges forward this time, leaping head-on towards the stallion and Vanya both, she screams, striped front hooves striking out for whatever they can reach.

"I want MY SON!" she bellows. In her fury, the rest is clear: after that, your head, and the whitesplashed stallion's, too, if he won't get out of the wild mare's way.