VaLkA

mare / six / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

The silence between them was neither uncomfortable nor oppressive, but the shaggy chestnut was still grateful to hear it broken— first by a playful squeal and the gentle thunder of her daughter’s hooves, and then by the soft music of Bacardi’s voice. Tipping both ears toward it, Valka tilted her head back to meet her Hersir’s strange golden gaze. For over a year they’d lived beside one another, to the point where the Yakut could recognize her companion by the shape of his silhouette alone. To the point where she could see the tobiano stallion even without seeing him, by simply closing her eyes and thinking of his name.

But there were changes, too, amidst the familiar— confidence and strength where there had once been uncertainty and self-doubt. And she had changed too. Feeling the gentle warmth of his curiosity in the moment that their eyes met, Valka wondered thoughts unravelled in the silent sanctuary of his mind. Did Bacardi still see her as a mentor and Queen, as a figure elevated so far above the mundane that she was all but untouchable? Or had time and the flaws that he’d witnessed firsthand allowed him to understand that she was just as vulnerable— just as mortal— as he? Perhaps this conversation would reveal the answer to that question… and more.

“Doubt,” the red woman finally responded in a soft broken voice, fighting the impulse to curl in upon herself. “Doubt and fear and the need to escape both.” For a moment she let the words linger between them, silent and solemn and still again. Then she continued, her voice strengthening again when Kesja’s small head ducked abruptly beneath her, finding what she sought and latching onto it eagerly.

“You are made for peace, Bacardi. I knew that when I first saw you, and I have known it more every day since. And at first it gave me hope that I could be the same— that I could change. But I cannot. I do not relish violence as some do, Hersir... but I need it. Whether it ends in victory or defeat, I need to fight.” Her dark eyes burned fever-bright when they tore free of his, seeing beyond the bare earth and golden grass of the Bay. “It is like there is fire in me. And if I do not give in to it, I am afraid that it might consume me.”