Though Bacardi had not said the words he had wanted too, it seemed Valka had still understood what had been there. Was this her refusal, then? The very reason he had been too much of a coward to say it? His heart gave a hard thump in his chest, twisting with an agonizing sort of way that made the stallion want to flinch away. To act as if she had struck him, though even that would have hurt less. But Bacardi remained unmoving, his face blank as his smile fell away and he only looked at her. Should he have been younger, or even if their child had not lain so vulnerable beneath them, he might have taken his leave. But this is what it was like to face one’s fears; to face pain.


She still loved Solomon, and he had only been the band-aid until the Tinuvel King had returned.


“You still have a heart, Skjaldmaer, else you would not care for the child beneath you.” Bacardi said, his voice monotone else it might give away the hurt he felt inside. He refused to make the situation worse by his hurt feelings, and soon, he would bury them beneath the snow so that he wouldn’t have to feel them at all. Because, just like the sea he had named Valka for, she rose and fell with her affections. Only moments before she had leaned into his touch, only to pull away like a receding tide. With everything else he was facing that she did not know, could he continue to stand as steadfast as the shore?


Without hesitation, Bacardi knew his answer. He knew this would not change anything, as he would remain here as loyal as he had been the first day he had arrived. Only that he would not look for her warmth as he had once done, knowing he had been mistaken somewhere along the way to have yearned for it the way that he did.

five years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the bay.

"...speech"