Mariael snorted, almost offended to be welcomed to the Inlet, but mentally reminded herself he had his rights to the Inlet now as she had hers to the Bay. This land and all which encompassed the borders of it was technically his, and he was newly arrived to an island which had seen much change over the past five years. The islands themselves, too. Mariael was one of the first to be given leadership over her territory, but now, here on the islands it was as commonplace as stallions owning land. Some stallions accepted this freely, some… well, some took some time to adjust.
It would not do to start off on a bad note, per say.
He looked built for Tinuvel, which was a start. Mariael would only laugh if a desert-type tried to stake a claim on her northern island. Yet she silently reminded herself many who were meant to live amongst the chill didn’t always last the winters. It took more than a proper figure – it took intelligence. Survival instinct.
“Welcome to your new home.” Mariael said, her voice cool, even, though not unkind. “I’ve led my herd in the Bay for the past three years,” she paused, long enough for him to take in the information but not long enough for him to speak. “I’ve seen many leaders come and go. Alliances made, alliances broken.”
Another pause. Her head lifted – royalty in every right. Her blue eyes hung clear over his sturdy face. She feared no repercussions to the decree she would make.
“I am Queen of Tinuvel. My survival here has seen fit to award me such a title. Should you have an issue with this… I am more than capable of proving to you in battle my worth as your queen.” Should the issue continue and a battle was not agreeable, Tinuvel would descend into anarchy. Perhaps a proper leader should shy away – her father certainly would have worked to come to an agreement, he always reiterated the strength of Tinuvel was that which they found together. Mariael was done playing nice.
It was time for her reign.
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