Nyimara could not help herself. Tavas, like Siobhan and Ysabel and Tigerlily and countless others, had been a thorn in her side for many years. While she knew that it was impossible for her to maintain Bjorn’s constant attention and adoration, it was something she strived for. It was her obsession whether she was willing to admit it or not.

There had been a time, a time long ago in which she appraised Bjorn with judgmental and cautious eyes. A time when she treated him as she did every other male creature that walked the earth. Calculated. They were all calculated creatures determined to spread their seed and ensure that generations to come would scream their names. Even in all the glory she held him, Bjorn was no different. He was determined to regain the homelands of his father, even if she herself was not particularly partial to the cold winter island of Tinuvel. There had only been father then, but even he was met with guarded eyes and even more protected heart. It was Bjorn that had managed to break past those barriers to the secret child she kept buried deep beneath the paper thin layers of her heart. It was Bjorn that had managed to become the center of her world and she fixated on becoming everything to him. It had been she who bore him his heir, her beloved Sigurdr the shining symbol of their love and adoration to one another. It was Bjorn alone that she was determined would only ever mount her. Together. Together they could conquer the world. Together they would be the names whispered in hushed admiration throughout the islands.

However that day was not today.

While Bjorn’s defeat of Warsaw was noted with honor in her books, adding another golden stone to the pillar in which she built him up in her mind; it had not done much to favor him in the eyes of others. Why it irked her so entirely, Nyimara could not quite be sure. Perhaps it was because of the golden light in which she view him through. Perhaps it was simply because the disfavor he found himself in was an extension of her own. It put a foul taste upon her tongue to see the looks of disdain that had passed between the displaced herd members and even now written so clearly upon Tavas’ face. What Nyimara would not give to rip it right off her pretty little face.

Now grant it, Nyimara can understand partly how Tavas must feel. It had felt as though her world had been ripped apart when Bjorn was overthrown by another. It was perhaps made worse by the fact that instead of rising to meet the challenger like any good queen might have done, instead she had allowed herself to sink into the despair and thoughts of never seeing Bjorn again. It was this that hardened her hatred for Siobhan even more. Dark eyes blink away the sympathy that threatens to spill forth and meet the eyes of the pale golden mare. Could she herself say she would not come to another in loyalty for her own sire? For Bjorn himself? Surely she would walk through the fires of hell and face the retributions of a thousand demons if it meant ensuring that her family was safe. But such was the hard life that all were faced. In the face of victory there will always be a fallen. This day it was Warsaw, perhaps one day soon, it would be her own sire, and even Bjorn’s days in the sunlight were waning with each drop of the sands of time. One day, she too might find herself in Tavas’ place; but that day was not today.

What sympathy she might feel for the family that had been displaced from the Inlet disappears quick enough as Tavas turns her attention to Nyimara for the first time. Ears fall backwards amid the boundless curls of silver white mane as Tavas turns upon her now with venom laced tones. It was all Nyimara could do not to laugh outright in the mare’s face. The image her angry words painted into her mind was outright hilarious. Nonetheless, she does her best to clamp back the amusement with a mere glimmer of laughter in her eyes and an upturned twist of her lips. Clamp her tail, if only Tavas knew how tight she kept her tail and her mouth clamped. Nostrils quiver as the biting tones linger upon her tongue but Bjorn is the first to move.

Despite the hopes that he might stand up in her defense, she finds hers eyes widening as his words turn cold and his teeth rake against her shoulder in reprimand. Dark eyes narrow as a sharp squeal resonates in her lungs. Long silver-white whipcord lashes with an audible snap against her rounded hips. He bit her. He who once met her with such fierce pride. The one who once defended her against Ysabel and others, now dared to reprimand her. For the first time in many moons, Nyimara finds herself caught between wanting to let the beast free to rip his heart from his beating chest and wanting to crumple into a heap of hot tears and shuddering skin. In that moment, the two creatures within her surged for control and yet neither were able to gain the upper ground. Instead she merely meets his eyes with her own, the dark depths unreadable. A hard snort hisses from her lungs as she gives her proud head a toss and once more fixes Tavas with an even stare, a single brow raised "Weakness shows in hardened tears." she murmurs, dark lashes blinking slowly over auburn eyes as she side-steps from Bjorn's reach and instead fixes the golden girl in her eyes.