| Fiero was gone from the Dunes, and Marceline wasn't sure how she felt about this new development in Salem politics. Though she'd held a grudge against the dunskin stallion for sneaking his way into her life with such determination, she'd also respected him for it. Now he was gone, and she wasn't sure what to think. Part of her worried, but another part of her was relieved. Ever since she'd laid claim to the Hills, she'd been hyper-vigilant, worried Fiero might come popping out at any second to snatch her son away. Though he'd not seemed like the spiteful type when she was with him, she'd spent very little time actually getting to know him in ways that mattered, and so it dawned on her that she actually wasn't sure if he was the type to take the high road. And not long after leaving the Dunes, she'd come to realize he might actually be upset about her gallivanting off with his spawn and not saying a word. Ever since, she'd been on the lookout for the slippery stallion, waiting for the day he showed his face on Salem again.
As weeks went by, Marceline grew more confident that he was not, in fact, coming back. One bright summer day she gathered Bastien up and wandered into the place she'd once called home, picking her way through the desert lilies and around thick ironwood trees that decorated the Hills until they gave way to the sandy Dunes. As she ventured further, it became clear that Fiero had been gone for some time. His scent was stale, weeks of time separating her and his last appearance here. But there was something else, something distinctly more feminine. It was vaguely familiar, and Marceline paused to take a breath. Where did she know that from? The appaloosa kept walking, only one question driving her: who had remained? Eventually her travels led her to the oasis, the Dunes' only real and constant source of water. With the sun blazing high above them and the temperature steadily climbing, Marceline knew it was only a matter of time before rest and water would be needed, lest she exhaust herself and her son by proxy. "Come," she beckoned Bastien, leading him towards the oasis. As she approached, Marceline was quick to realize that she wasn't alone. Hidden between desert palms and swaying fronds was another mare who Marceline recognized as one of Fiero's, though she'd never bothered to find out her name. Sweat glistened against the rich yellow of her coat as she worked on cleaning the newborn that laid at her hooves. So that was where she knew the scent from — an old herd mate. "Oh," Marceline exclaimed gently, "I didn't realize there was anyone still here. Hello." How long had the buckskin been there? Had she been holding onto hope that Fiero would come back? How truly pitiful that would be, to wait on a stallion like that. Taking one step forward, Marceline let her gaze fall to the bay filly at the mare's hooves. The slight smile that pulled her lips up was one of the most genuine she had to offer, amber eyes alight as she watched the little girl come to life under her mother's doting. A brief pang of envy clutched her heart as the scene unfolded in front of her. How she'd longed for Bastien to be a girl. If she had been able to get anything out of that night with Fiero it should have been an heiress, but yet again she'd been left disappointed. But Bastien would prove his worth yet, and someday Marceline would have a daughter of her own. In the meantime, the red queen was content to watch and live through others. "She is beautiful. You have truly been blessed," she murmured, referring to both mother and child as they shared their tender moment. "I hope you don't mind me stopping to say hello. I was beginning to wonder if this place had truly been abandoned or not and had to come see for myself. You used to belong to Fiero as well, yes? Is this child his?" Marceline hadn't bothered to keep track of her ex-lover's other escapades, and though she'd seen the white-faced mare around during her time under Fiero's lead, she'd not bothered to ask the woman her name or if the child she was carrying was another one of their former king's. It hadn't been of personal importance, and was easily overlooked. But now she was dying to know just how many unlucky mares had fallen for Fiero's techniques (and whether or not they could be used to her advantage). ------- |
| no one calls you honey WHEN YOU'RE SITTING ON THE THRONE ( the red queen of the hills. ) |