RHAEGAR & SOLGAR
Almost, Solgar expected them not to come. Seconds that seemed like hours stretched by, with nothing stirring but the wind in the trees behind them and a lone ptarmigan's strange, gurgling call. In the dusky half-light, he side-eyed his brother. Rhaegar, too, had a bleak expression on his face as he scoured the terrain for any sign of the herd's response, as if he also was in doubt as to whether anyone would heed the leader who had all but abandoned them.
The girl's arrival was so quiet that it came as a surprise to both men. From off to their right she appeared, her small hooves crunching in the new snow as she came closer, and both Solgar and Rhaegar pricked their ears and turned their heads to look at her. When Solgar realized who it was, he jerked his head quickly away, ears flicking uncertainly back and forth atop his head. Still he was uncomfortable around Liat, as though she was not truly his own, but equally he felt sorry for her. He could only imagine what it must have been like to be dumped in a strange land and left to the care of strange horses at such a young age, with him hardly around to explain it all to her. It was only when she touched his shoulder, almost shyly, that he looked at her again, and silently extended his nose to her, his guilt winning over. Rhaegar, meanwhile, was watching the interaction with a pleased half-smile on his face. It had not yet occurred to him that he knew the girl, though he had seen her lurking here and there. Once he had asked Solgar where her mother was, but his brother had only grunted in answer, so Rhaegar had presumed the poor girl was an orphan.
When Yoren came, looking as grown-up as ever, Rhaegar saw his brother visibly tense again. It was a shame. When he had first arrived in the inlet, the two had been as close as a pod of peas; now they were as gruff and silent as strangers. The pale gold stallion offered a kind smile to his nephew, flattered in a bittersweet way that the boy chose to stand so close to him. "How are you?" he asked kindly, hoping the boy would be courteous enough to answer politely. The last thing he wanted was a fight to break out between father and son. Solgar, meanwhile, ignored the colt.
The blue roan thought he was imagining things when the old sabino mare appeared out of the dark and strolled up as if she belonged there. He stared hard at her for several long moments, wondering, and heard his brother offer a friendly "hello" to her. Eventually, he looked away without offering her a greeting. Every muscle in his body was taut. What had he called them all here for again? He was surrounded by equine he seemed to hardly know or care for anymore.
When at last pale-faced Winter and multicolored Pan joined the small group, Solgar could hardly stand it anymore. His lead mare was a pathetic sight to behold, and he found it strange that she seemed to act familiar with the old mare whose name he could not remember. Had the natural balance of the inlet been tipped onto its head in his neglect? In the time since he'd last seen her (which seemed an eternity, given how unsociable they'd both become), she seemed to have visibly decayed. He laid his ears back flat atop the storm-colored hairs on his head, still unable to disguise how he felt about her after all this time. His discontent with her over the past couple years had grown like a seed, and now it sat like a hot sickness in his belly, refusing to be ignored.
Rhaegar had been about to offer a kind greeting to the sickly-looking mare and her spunky red filly when he noticed the expression on his brother's face. Solgar looked as if he was attempting to murder the poor mare with his eyes. What on earth? This is going from bad to worse. Rhaegar felt contempt and disgust rising in him. Where was the brother he knew and loved? The man he saw before him was not fit to be a lead stallion, let alone a father. Rhaegar had no intention of making a scene, however, so he only cleared his throat, loudly and deliberately. Perhaps he might have added a light nip to his shoulder if Yoren did not stand between them. Rather suddenly, the blue roan stallion whipped his head around to glare angrily at him, and for a moment there was something in his dark eyes that scared Rhaegar, as if his brother had forgotten who he was.
Then, after an excruciatingly tense moment, Solgar remembered himself. His brother's pale green eyes were alight with concern and something akin to fear. If you don't do it, I will, those eyes seemed to say. The stallion mentally kicked himself, and looked away, back to Winter. But now his expression was softer. He had been considering stripping the mare of her rank right then and there, but he now saw what an affront it would be to publicly shame someone who was obviously not well. He sighed desolately, and quickly glanced out at the tundra beyond the group. Still Anske and Sojourner were not here, but they would come in time, surely. Finally, he cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was as low and gravelly as someone who had not spoken in a thousand years.
"Thank you... for coming." The words were terse and alien on his lips. He stared out at the snow, at no one and nothing in particular. Seconds passed in silence, but his throat was tight, like a knot that refused to loosen. He could not speak any more.
When Rhaegar saw that his brother had hit a mental snag, he quickly stepped in, raising his head proudly and smiling at them all. "It's nice to finally meet all of you. I'm Rhaegar, younger brother, well, half-brother, to this old fart over here." He jerked his head, indicating Solgar. "No doubt you've seen me lurking around the past few weeks. Now, why don't you all take a moment to introduce yourselves?"
6 & 12; MUSTANGS; PALOMINO ROAN & BLUE ROAN; 16HH & 15'3HH; SHIVA |