In her years of living in the Peak, Marceline had come to realize one thing: very little changed here. Perhaps, to some, that wasn't a bad thing. But Marceline was never fond of the idea of a status quo, and in her attempts to bend the Peak to her views she'd self-appointed Khar'pern as her rival. For so long - perhaps too long - she had considered the rosy mare an opponent, tearing at her reputation with every opportunity that presented itself. Yet Khar'pern had acted with grace and continued to lead the Peak faithfully.
Once upon a time that might have piqued the red mare's anger - to see another act so composed when she herself would likely never be capable of such a thing - but she couldn't find it in herself now to hold a grudge. Not with the constant harassment of the Lagoon casting a shadow over them. That band of miscreants was a thorn in the islands' sides, and Marceline was of the opinion that it should be swiftly removed.
But it was never going to be that easy, and making enemies would do them no favors. Besides, if they wanted to defeat the Lagoon, they'd need to take a different approach than the one they'd been using. Simply stealing away the brothers one by one hadn't worked so far. It seemed like each time she stole one away another slithered from the shadows to take his place and the whole cycle began anew. But that was an issue for another day, when the aches and pains of pregnancy had faded and she could think clearly once again.
Marceline's morning graze was interrupted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats and the clattering of loose rocks against hard packed earth. Lifting her head from the sweet spring grasses, she was surprised to find Khar'pern drawing closer. She let out a soft nicker in greeting and dipped her head, moving to close the small distance that remained between them. The added weight of her unborn child made her injured leg protest more than usual with each movement, a faint grimace distorting her features as she came to a halt before the prime minister.
"Khar'pern," she greeted, forcing an amicable smile onto her lips. It was hard to want to smile and act chummy when all she could focus on was the pain that radiated up her injured leg. But years of living with the discomfort had made her an expert in ignoring it, and she wasn't about to let a little pain stop her in her tracks. "You look well." There was no sarcasm or snideness in her tone, no hint of venom hidden in the compliment. Marceline motioned with her muzzle towards the prime minister's swollen belly and then towards her own. "Are you as ready as I am to be done with this?"
Truth be told, Marceline was curious what man had been tolerable enough to be let into Khar'pern's bed. But that was neither here nor there - and frankly none of her business - so she dismissed the thought with a flick of her crimson ears, focusing the whole of her attention on the words leaving Khar'pern's sooty lips.
Marceline, admittedly, was unused to being thanked or praised in any way, and so she could not help the look of surprise that flitted over her features. Such an expression was quickly schooled into something more neutral, another smile curving her lips. "You're welcome. I will always protect my home and the horses in it." It had stood true when she led the Hills, and it stood true now. Marceline was nothing if not loyal.
At Khar'pern's next question Marceline dipped her head in a brief nod. "Of course. I'd offer to walk with you, but I'm feeling especially achy. I'm not sure my leg could handle it." At that the red mare shifted her weight, attempting to take some pressure off the injured joint. Much to her displeasure it did little to alleviate the pain, but it was enough to clear some of the haze from her mind and allow her to focus on what Khar'pern had to say. |