Autumn had settled over Luthien, bringing crisp breezes and the smell of fallen leaves - and with it, a stirring in her gut that would not be sated through grazing. The painted mare was no stranger to her heat cycles, having teased Oberon mercilessly with them, but she had never really indulged herself. She knew she would have children someday - as was her right, and her duty, being his Queen - but the timing never suited her, for some reason.

All that had changed upon her arrival at the Thicket. Her and Rille’s relationship was not one where they clung to each other like barnacles, but when they spent their time together, Titania found it hard not to keep herself constantly glued to his side. His touch was careful, tender in the way Oberon’s was not, and she could never get enough of it. When the seasons changed, and her cycle came hard and fast, there was no hesitation in her decision to take him upon her back. They came together as equals, as lovers - and she knew, down to her bones, that it was right. Rille had shown her the depth of his care in the way he held her and the kindness with how he treated the other members of their little herd. She was sure he would raise their child well, as sure as she’d been back on the shores just past her fairy glade, staring out at the horizon. This was her destiny, and she ran to greet it with unbridled enthusiasm, just as she’d always done.

That autumn day, deep within the depths of the Thicket, Titania was back at Rille’s side. Her heat was fading, but still prominent, and she wasn’t sure yet if she had taken. The scent of her surrounded them, drowning out anything else… and so, when she heard the crashing of brambles and the rough pushing aside of branches, she assumed it was another of their herd, perhaps the mare with the curve to her ears or the quiet golden nymph she’d caught glimpses of in passing. By the time she saw the visitor for who they - who he - truly was, it was far too late for her to disappear into the shadows unnoticed.

His intentions were clear. Rille fought valiantly to keep her from the tall interloper, and Titania, in her fury, could not help herself but to move around his dark form and attempt to lay her own teeth and hooves upon the bay’s smooth skin. This proved her undoing, giving the slender stallion a way to separate her fully… and before she knew it, she was at the beach again, whirling haphazardly about to avoid the pinch of the stranger’s teeth on her white-speckled hide.

Titania would not go quietly into the water. She fought and fought, high-pitched squeals pulling from her throat, her ears fully hidden beneath the dark tangle of her mane. She was charging up the beach, scattering sand and pebbles in her haste to both escape the red stallion’s clutches and make it back to the safety of the trees, when Rille’s spiced, woodsy scent filled her nostrils. She looked ahead to find his dark form, watching her, and suddenly went still.

Titania realized it wasn’t worth it, all the fighting and the tempers and the bloodshed. She was pulling her stallion away from where he truly needed to be, bringing him to follow her out instead of ensuring the safety of the rest of the herd. For a moment - barely a second - a profound sadness reflected in the depths of her eyes as she gazed upon him. She made a decision, then, and whipped her head around to glare at the stallion no doubt trying to push her back towards the sea. ”Wait,” she commanded. “I will come, but I will say goodbye to my stallion first.” It wasn’t a question. She would plant her hooves in the sand and fight to the death if he tried to move her away, and without waiting for his permission she was trotting loftily up the beach, nickering softly to her beloved.

When she reached him, she pressed her muzzle to his cheek, breathing deep, as if to store the memory of his scent deep within her lungs and hold it forever. “Do not follow, my sky-and-stars,” she whispered into his ear, taking care to move her lips as little as possible, for she was sure the thief was watching. “You are needed here. When it is time, you will know, and we will find each other as we have before.” Destiny would not be swayed by one rogue stallion. It had pulled her from everything she had known and loved with Oberon and her fair folk in the glade and it would pull her back into Rille’s embrace in due time. She was as sure of it as she was sure of the sun in the sky and the sand beneath her hooves.

Titania crushed her forehead into his neck, cherishing the feel of his skin on hers one last time. She turned, feeling the emptiness where he had once been all too keenly, and stepped gingerly into the cool embrace of the tide, fixing a hard stare on the bay as if to ask what the hell else he was waiting for. The seas were gentle this time, accommodating; as the white-painted mare was pulled farther and farther away from the shores of her home, she could not help but to look back, burning the sight of Rille into her mind for safekeeping.

-

Night has fallen by the time they reach Atlantis. Titania has kept quiet for the entire swim, her expression carefully crafted into a mask of utter neutrality. She won’t give him the satisfaction - this stranger already knows she is not willing from their altercation in the Thicket, and so she will not waste her vigor making a show for him. She chooses instead to save her energy for when they are back on solid ground, and to focus on the rhythm of the current, remembering all too well how easily it pulled her under the last time she braved its watery depths.

The sand, when she reaches it, is soft beneath her hooves, the coast less rocky, and the chill of autumn does not seem to reach the air here. It clings, warm and humid, to her damp skin as she shakes herself free of salt water. Ahead, the trees stretch out endlessly to meet her - but unlike the Thicket, these are mostly palms, along with great vining leaves and shrubs. The scent of damp earth and tropical blooms wafts out to meet her, mingling with the sweet tang of her heat. The energy of this foreign place drapes cloyingly over her like a thick blanket, and she rankles beneath its heaviness. This is not the quiet maze of brambles she has grown to love, but a cacophonous mess of everlasting life, and it makes her sick with rage to look upon it and know she is trapped within its clutches.

Her ears press back briefly against her skull. She turns to face the silver bay stallion who had taken her, and they fall sideways, then cautiously forward, the barest hint of a hard edge flickering in her eyes as she boldly meets his bright green gaze. Her dark tail snaps against her hindquarters, her nostrils puckering at the scent of her perfume wafting forth in response to her movements, and she holds her head high, proud even in the face of such powerful loss.

When she speaks, she has to struggle to keep the storm brewing within her at bay. It is with a herculean effort that she is able to address him without sharpening her words the better to cut him into a million little pieces. There would be time for that - she had not become Queen of the fairies for nothing - but Titania is no fool, and she knows that she is vulnerable while the memory of her resistance lingers and her heat still clings to her skin. Better to save her energy, to plan, and save the tricks up her metaphorical sleeves for when they are most usefully applied.

“Do you have a name, sir?” she calls above the surf, allowing her words the tiniest of hardened edges. “I am happy to give you one, but I don’t know that you would like it very much.” She has many names stored up for this thieving scoundrel, but in the interest of playing somewhat nice with her captor, she will let him keep his own, if he deigns to share it.