Arael's warm smile redirected to Medusa for a moment as she commented about her own half and half coat. While uncommon, some from her birth-herd retained the same shade of pale gold they were born with throughout their lives. And while their devoutness was measured by the amount of white markings that had been bestowed up on them, they were generally considered less devout, but no less welcome in her family's herd. The most cherished were the children born of milk-white, with beautiful blue eyes and pink noses. Those who had been touched by Etheria's most brilliant beam were hailed as the next priests and leaders.

Of course, there were rare few that were born red-orange, as if cast from an outsider. And back to those outsiders they were sent. Her family did not suffer the non-believers, and would not harbor a child destined to bleed their faith from them as surely as their color indicated.

Moving to the islands had come with no small amount of shock. Horses of all shapes and sizes and colors and patterns moved throughout the land without fear or superstition. Etheria was a strange word to them, devoid of meaning or hope. Arael longed to bring her goddesses light to them all, but she feared it would not be enough. How could you teach a people who believed themselves immune to the wrath of gods?

As Medusa confesses to her struggle with those younger than herself, Arael warms to her completely, delighted to have found someone else who she could relate to. Of course, Xiomara had seemed uncomfortable with her boys as well, but the blue roan mare had an air of innate authority that Arael could never hope to compete with. Still, she hesitates before responding, not entirely sure that she wanted to cause her King to doubt her parenting abilities with Fall looming on the horizon. If he felt her incapable of parenting a new child, and refused her when she came to him, it would be a shame greater than anything that she had ever known.

"Younger children can certainly be difficult, lady Medusa." She offers with a small smile, oblivious to the ranking of the tobiano mare before her. Her gaze slipped across the fondness they seemed to share with no small amount of jealousy. It was not that she didn't want Medusa to share in such easy affection, but that she felt the absence of it for herself. Arael's soft gaze dropped momentarily before she began to elaborate. "My daughter is fiercely independent and wished to stay in her birth home, but I do miss her. I hope someday to get the chance to be a mother again," she admits, the heat rushing to her cheeks.

Eager to shift the conversation from herself again, she raises her gaze back to the pretty tobiano. "Have you any of your own yet, my lady?"

Thankfully, Ironclad provides the next distraction and she listens intently as he speaks. His praise makes her whole body flush and she is forced to drop her head slightly to hide the smile that spreads across her heart. Arael could never hope to earn his love in the same way he might lavish on his chosen bride, but she hoped to at least one day earn the same sort of familiarity that he seemed to share with Medusa.

"Thank you," she said softly, her happiness glimmering in her gaze as she raised it back to them. As he elaborates, she can hear the undercurrent of uncertainty that lingers in his voice. Something was bothering her King and a frown rises onto her lips as she lifts her gaze back to him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"