Vanya's gaze could not stay focused on her chocolate claimer for long. In time, her obsession with Rougaru's desire would return and once again drive the painted mare away from home in search of someone else to admire her, but for now she was as settled as she was likely going to become. The precious newness of her son, and the overwhelming desire to care for and protect him, were strange and jarring enough to keep the worst aspects of her behavior in check.

Protectively the mare watched as stallion and colt exchanged breaths, a strange leap in her chest of pride as her newborn fearlessly met the only father figure it was likely to know any time soon. Devil's Retribution had hinted at someday finding her again, but she no longer held out hope for him to arrive, and if she were being fully honest, would have a few choice words for him.

A smirk winds its way onto her pale lips at Rou's first comment, and she is certain in her own mind that she hears wishful thinking in his words. Their moment on the beach had been one of heat and passion, born of their struggle to best one another, but she had felt it then too. As much as there was contention between the two of them, there was passion there too. Perhaps not yet much deeper than surface level, and perhaps not destined to become more than that, but it was more than just average attraction. Rougaru had sought her out and dragged her to his lair, kicking and screaming. And despite herself, she liked him for it.

A bitter chuckle rippled from her lips as she heard his second comment and she shook her head. "Why would I ever do this again when I have already achieved perfection?"

It is a rhetorical question of course. Vanya's reluctance to submit to another pregnancy had far more to do with superficial things like her appearance and sex appeal than it did with the pursuit of the perfect child. Although, if she were attempting to provide the perfect heir, Drogon could have been a pretty strong contender if only it had been Rougaru's seed that had settled in her womb first. This thought holds a strange sort of allure for her that she does not fully understand.

Perhaps it had something to do with the power that came with being the mother of the heir, or the pride that would come with such a thing. She was not sure, but she brushed aside the weird flutter of desire with a toss of her head. Drogon, after exchanging breath the large stallion mimicked hs dam's head toss and then turned his attention to the rather annoying fern that was tickling his ankle. His tiny ears pinned back and he stomped the affected hoof, nearly toppling himself in the process.

Instinctively Vanya reaches out to catch the colt before he can faceplant into the dirt, and as such, does not immediately respond to Rou's murmured comment. She is not quite sure what he means, having no window into the silver stallion's head, but would not miss an opportunity to tease him when he opened himself up for it. By the time the colt is once again steadied and wrinkling his tiny muzzle with displeasure at his dam's interference, Rougaru is speaking again, and Vanya turns her attention back to the mature stallion.

"It will have as much meaning as he gives it." She murmurs as she watches her son, "but it seemed like a fierce name, for a fierce colt. Dragon-like. A warrior's name. And if I've learned anything about life so far, it's that you have to fight for what you want."

The elegant mare allows her nostrils to flare in a sigh as she watches her son, fluted ears flicking back. Somehow, the thought of raising the colt had gone by the wayside during all those unpleasant months and she wasn't entirely sure how it was supposed to go from here. Her own mother had been an aloof creature, entirely focused on looks and reputation. Vanya was fairly certain that her dam's lessons on coyness and allure would be wasted on Drogon. The thought of her dam recenters her, and she once again turns her attention toward Rougaru.

With a smile that flutters uncertainly on her lips, the mare sidles closer with a wince, the movements jerky in comparison to her normal elegance. Her painted figure aligns with his and she arches her neck to lip at his shoulder. It is as close to a fond gesture as the painted mare has ever offered and it is gone as soon as it is offered. Her words are quieter now, the tone more intimate.

"I should've known you'd be the one to come first. You don't seem to want to let me out of your sight." She chuckled and flicked a glance toward his face. "Who're you chasing out of Paradise now, Rougaru? Perhaps I should go with them?"

The teasing tone of her voice was evident, even if her injury didn't make her inability to travel clear. Once she could move without wincing once more, all bets were off.