Desert

Vanya had not truly expected to emerge from her battle with the Inlet mare as the victorious one. Combat of the corporeal kind had never been her strong suit. She was fair and delicate looking, her neck arched and limbs slender, face dished and gait elegant. She was beautiful, but did not pretend to possess great amounts of physical strength. As much as she enjoyed a power struggle with Rougaru, she had never before considered herself his equal.

Until now.

Luck had aided her a great deal in her battle against Parvati, but she had prevailed. She had plucked her prize from those cold northern shores and watched as she swam to the south, toward home. She looked similar enough to the frigid king that she might share some blood, which was all that the roan truly cared about. Rougaru had grown quiet and dormant and soft, and she would not have it any longer. If he intended to start a war in his own home (and what was crowning Titania, other than a declaration of war?), then she was fully committed to bringing the larger, more important one, back to his shore.

Even so, she suspected that Rougaru would like the little gem she'd found. The girl was pretty, her body the same warm golden brown as Solomon's, only filled with youth and joy rather than her lookalike's weakness and sorrow. If Rougaru took her in, perhaps gave her a child of her own, then it would be as good of a declaration of war as any other.

The roan mare shook herself dry as she emerged from the water and then trotted toward her new charge with a smile already curling onto her peach lips. For what it was worth, Devi didn't look afraid. Nor even particularly obstinate, which was a boon that Vanya had not expected. From what she'd seen of Rougaru's conquests, most of his new charges tended to be rather angry at being forcibly rehomed rather than taking it as the compliment hat it was.

"Welcome to the Desert," Vanya said with a beautific smile, inclining her head toward the girl as she halted. "My apologies for bringing you here so abruptly," she lied, without letting the smile on her lips die away. "There was something about you that struck me as something worth fighting for." Not a lie this time, despite the way she'd bent the truth. This war was worth fighting. It had to be, or else she'd wasted the last few years of her life on little more than a stallion's spat.

"My name is Vanya," she introduced herself with a tip of her head, before fixing her wide brown eyes back on the young mare. "What would you like for me to call you?"