Hersir; he had not heard that title since she had offered him the rank of Huskarl. Bacardi tried to deflect the sting of it, just as he did every word that escaped her lips. Surely, she did not mean it as he took it, did not mean it as he was no longer her equal? Ebony rimmed ears tilted to the side, then back (though not pinned) in his displeasure. If that hadn’t already been salt to a wound, he wasn’t sure if her comparison of him to Solomon or that he might try to tame her was worse. What had started out as an intimate, heart touching moment as their child came into the world had quickly turned into a gut twisting, heart breaking nightmare. Was it ever going to end?


“You wound me with everything you say.” Bacardi admitted, finding himself truthful in that at least, rather than trying to hide it. “By comparing me to another like Solomon, to accusing me of trying to tame the sea. When have I ever overlooked you? When have I ever tried to tame you?” The stallion kept his tone calm despite how his emotions churned inside him. When had it become this complicated? Why had it turned into such a storm he no longer felt as if he could navigate it? Bacardi thought he had been doing right by being here, to protect their home and wait for her to return from her wars. To be sound and solid when she yearned for the burning desire of battle. It couldn’t be clearer that he had been wrong. That he had mis stepped, misunderstood somewhere.


Bacardi lowers his head then, golden eyes watching Falda closely as he shuffles his hooves away to not step on her. Once he is clear, he turns those same wolfish colored eyes to Valka. “I have learned things of my heritage that troubles me. I aim to find out more about it.” he stated, as if they had not just been discussing the matter or emotions between them. Bacardi still felt the churning of conflicting feelings, but he did not wear them on his face, as his ears had returned to their forward position. With nothing else to say (not wanting to make the matters between them any worse) and not elaborating anymore of his own personal issues, the painted stallion moved away from mother and daughter to let them have time to themselves, and to try and wrap his head around what had just happened.

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

"...speech"