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The Lost Islands
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hot and cold, silver and gold

RHAEGAR & SOLGAR
6 & 11; mustangs; palomino roan & blue roan; 16hh & 15'3hh; shiva

"Brother," he exhaled, and his voice was like a sigh. Perched on the shore, the inlet rolled before him like a vast patchwork of grass and snow. A wall of dark conifers flanked it on either side, and straight down the middle like a crack in an egg, snaked a stream, zig-zagging up from where it emptied into the sea beside him, all the way to the mountains in the distance. The sun was low in the sky, as it always was this time of the year no matter the time of day (though Rhaegar didn't know that yet), and it cast long lavender shadows across the land. It was a cold, hard, and bleak place, though with its own kind of rugged beauty and strength: just like Solgar. It suited his brother well.

Rhaegar had found him, he was sure of it. Faint on the breeze, he could smell his musk, strengthened with the onset of breeding season. It mingled with other, unfamiliar scents: those of women in heat who could only be Solgar's herd, and the fresh, faintly sweet perfumes of foals. He has children? Rhaegar's heart was pumping in his chest so hard it hurt, but his pale gold face was stoic with determination. After squinting his green eyes and peering across the long stretch of tundra, he could make out the various-colored forms of horses, and beyond - perched on one of the foothills at the base of the mountains - was the tell-tale blue-grey silhouette of who could only have been Solgar.

Rhaegar sucked in a breath and began walking.

-----

Solgar, meanwhile, is completely oblivious. Far from the shore and with the mountains at his back - it is his favorite position and the best place to overlook the whole of the inlet - he stands grazing: his left foreleg, as per usual, cocked at an angle upon the ground. From the corner of his dark eye, he watches the mingling forms of his herd. Over the summer, it has grown in numbers, though whether this is a permanent change or not, he cannot be sure. In particular he keeps an eye on the heavy-set piebald mare and her foal. She still has not spoken to him, and nor he her, but neither has she left. He reasons that, in time, if she and her child are to stay over winter, they must eventually get to know one another.

"Daddy!"

It is a far cry from the 'Fa' that had once graced his son's lips. With a smile, Solgar lifts his head and turns to greet his growing son with a playful nip to the shoulder as he circles him. As Neassa arrives on his other side, his smile changes, growing softer and more serious. Briefly he eyes her white-haired belly, but of course, there is no change there yet. There is a knowing glint in his gaze as he presses his dark nose against her neck and exhales in satisfaction. It had been hard to find a moment of privacy with Yoren around, but they had accomplished it, and he is secretly ecstatic at the thought of Neassa bearing another one of his children. "Maybe he wouldn't have to bug you if you weren't such a hermit," he teases her in a low voice, and chuckles under his breath, giving his son a knowing look.

----

As he neared the herd, Rhaegar picked up his pace and began to jog, taking a wide berth around them in the hopes that none would notice him as he made his way towards the mountains. It was a feeble hope, of course, and he eyed them warily as he passed, anticipating one of them to look at him queerly, and just in case they did, held his head low to show them he wasn't a threat. Soon, at last, the hill upon which his brother stood rose up before him, but voices stopped him in his tracks before he could breach it. He hesitated, one pale ear pricked to listen, and heard the unmistakable grumbling of his brother, along with the lighter tones of a mare and the youthful baritone of a colt. Solgar was no longer alone; a mare and foal had joined him. The question was: were they visitors? As Rhaegar continued to eavesdrop, it seemed to him that the ease and familiarity of their conversation suggested otherwise.

He has a family. Rhaegar could feel his confidence deflating, but did he really want to back out when he'd come this far? Of course not! The pale stallion exhaled deeply, whispered a little prayer under his breath, then climbed the gentle slope of the knoll to come face-to-face with them all.

"Hello, brother."
background by colourlovers.com


I hope this is okay, it was either this or two separate threads :P at least little yoren gets to meet his uncle!

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