VaLkA

mare / four / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

Valka might have been content with the terse but careful neutrality into which she and the Cove’s ruler had settled during the course of their conversation, if Solomon’s next words had not restored the confusing tangle of conflicting emotions. It was strange to hear the note of gentle warmth that lay beneath his brief, agitated words. And the skjaldmær shied from it as she did anything that she was unable to comprehend, shuttering herself away even as her companion allowed a glimpse of something other than the creature that she had presumed him to be. In a similar way, he had failed to understand the moment of vulnerability she’d shared as an offering of trust, no matter how briefly that trust was destined to last. For now, both stood too far apart - their hooves planted out of sheer, stubborn determination - to come together in that middle ground that was mutual understanding.

For that reason, this impasse was the best they could hope for today - and, perhaps, ever.

To make matters even more complicated, there was a time when Valka might have agreed with the other’s inner monologue. When she, too, believed that it was a king’s right - and responsibility - to rule, and of his subjects to follow. She had never desired power for the sake of power - would never have chosen the path that she found herself treading now, save for the circumstances that had challenged her view. And even then, she might have happily returned to her original purpose of shielding those who claimed sovereignty - if she had found one worthy of her protection. But Rougaru had broken the last remnants of trust that Ironclad had left the pony-sized mare with, and once shattered it was not as easily rebuilt. Had she not been too prideful to speak to Solomon of her fears and uncertainties, she might have explained to the stallion that time was the only balm for such wounds. But if expressing herself was that easy, then they might never have found themselves in this predicament to begin with.

Still, it was not without regret that Valka listened to the farewell that the tobiano offered, and watched him begin to back away. While it did not seem possible for them to be friends, neither did the small chestnut wish for them to be enemies. And yet when she offered as much as she was capable of giving to this almost-stranger, he behaved as if it were not enough. As if she should trust blindly, even knowing that she risked losing herself again.

It was enough to make her want to hurl curses after his retreating figure.

But instead she pulled a deep draft of cold air into her lungs, and released the venom that coated her tongue in a harsh exhale of breath. “Solomon,” the Yakut spoke to gain his attention - and, secretly, to taste the name on her lips for what may well be the final time. “If you ever need, come to border and call. I will answer.” Valka didn’t know if it was a favor, an alliance, or something more personal - like friendship - that she was offering. But the offer was genuine regardless.

Though she may not have wanted it, Solomon had given her something. A child, a legacy. Continuity of her tribe’s lines, though they were doomed to be diluted more with each passing generation. Of course, the purity of one’s blood had ceased to matter to her since she’d travelled here, and seen enough to know that neither good nor evil troubled themselves with such particularities. What mattered more was that a piece of her would survive even after she had left this world. For that, perhaps she did owe a debt to the stallion who had likewise given a piece of himself to make that possible. That said, even this realization could not entirely silence Valka’s misgivings or her fears - and for that reason, she turned and left before Solomon could respond.

Whether it was rejection or acceptance he offered, she could face neither.