Even without the exchange of angry glares or venom-soaked responses, Khar’pern knows that they remain on opposite ends of the spectrum. Whether she was right or he was right all boiled down to their own opinions and the tension that heats the mountain air between them is enough to speak aloud those silent volumes. They are different. Physical appearance and beliefs, everything about them screams opposing views, and now, without the haze of lust to tint everything in rose-colored hues, she begins to really understand that. This, what lay between them now, it would always remain. Unless one or both of them broke or bent their beliefs for a love that she did not believe in, this was their future…. Forever at one another’s throat. Eventually, the flames that drew them together would burn them alive.
He does not bother to comment when she tosses Snapdragon’s name at him. For once, he seems to recognize the pointlessness of the argument and decides to keep his snarky remarks stuck behind his teeth. Why did that aggravate her just as much? Like a burr caught in the hairs of her coat just out of reach of her searching teeth she shudders, as though somehow the action might dislodge the sharp prickle buried beneath her coat. It never did, just as it does nothing to dissolve the tension that continues to build between them like rocks being stacked one atop another.
Her decision to introduce him to their son does however draw a response that immediately lifts the heavy cloud of emotions hanging over her. A single fluted lobe twitches at the shuffle of gravel beneath his stuttered steps. The urge to shoot him a cocky, knowing smirk is almost unbearable but somehow she manages to refrain. An amused smile does manage to tug at the curve of her lips long enough to be visible for the length of a moment before disappearing with the clearing of her throat.
For the hour or so that it takes for them to meander at a leisurely pace up the winding trail toward the glen where she left Ryvar and Solas, a silence hangs over them that is far more companionable than the one when she managed to buffalo him across the border. A sense of calm and peace resonates deep within her bones and for once, she allows herself to appreciate it. To appreciate him. There are no Peaks, and no mountain mares to defend and guard. There is no Lagoon stallions or shadows prowling in the night. It is only herself and the white splotched red stallion beside her, both lost on the trail of their own thoughts. Companions…. Friends….. Lovers.
The last thought causes her gaze to blink rapidly to rid herself of it. No. No such thing as lovers, not that she believed. But even Khar, vicious, seasoned, warrior of the peaks, Khar’pern, cannot deny the heat that rises beneath her flesh at the brush of his coat against hers. She can't refute the quickening of her heartbeat at the heat of his breath or the occasional switch of his tail against her hip. No. These were the thoughts of untrained fillies who listened to old mares' fanciful tales of love transcending all. She did not believe in that. Could not believe it. She was devoted to the peaks and that was all she needed to focus her concentration on.
When they are far enough away that listening ears will not be able to overhear, she confesses her real reason for bringing him. Meeting the foals was a mere bonus in her opinion. In his defense, he does listen, though his auburn eyes give way immediately to the rise of emotions that swell behind the firm press of his lips as he bites back whatever retorts she knows are coming. Once again, the wall of stone rises between them.
’...let me make sure I understand…’ Even the tone of his voice drips in anger as they come to a stiff halt. Raven-tipped ears disappear beneath the dark tendrils of her own mane as instinctively, Khar lifts her small chin to offer him her own icy glare. So that's how this is gonna go. So much for reasonable thinking.
’Blood for blood Khar’pern….’ The use of her full name on his lips feels like a curse. A stinging slap across her face. Paper-thin nostrils flare wide as a sharp exhale blasts into the thin air between them. The distance grew again. There are no lovers strolling through the countryside now, no companions…no friends. In this moment, more than ever, she feels the gaps in the charred bridge that they stand upon as it begins to groan and quake beneath them.
The sarcasm and venom spit in his final words hold no confident amusement that she has come to associate with him. Crystalline vision darkens as her own dappled body tenses, resisting the urge to lash out at him with teeth and hoof that has become commonplace for them. Brows narrow as her velvet labrums crinkle into something more akin to a snarl. ”I am not an idiot Khyber...” she growls, his name thick on her lips as she takes a single step backward, widening the metaphorical space between them. ”I know what it would mean for the Lagoon to halt their attempts just as I know how much YOU mean to them. I took the MAURADER for a reason.” she snaps, her obsidian tail switching audibly against her flanks now as the agitation rises in her voice. ”Despite her profession, Vane did not die on purpose. It was a fluke. An accident. Marceline would have the islands believe that she is a killer but I refuse to allow the Peak mare’s to suffer because of her lie. Is that what you want? Are you willing to condemn us all for one lousy leader’s mistake?” The words stall in her throat as she lifts her crown higher. ”Could you stand by idly as the Lagoon took their pound of flesh from your daughter? Your son? Me?” Not that she would ever let it happen to anyone under the protection of the Peaks, not with breath still in her lungs but she needed him to believe it was a possibility because that is what a war would bring. ”I am not asking for a permanent ceasefire, Khyber.” she murmurs, her tone dropping as she fights to maintain some semblance of control over her frustration and anger. ”I am merely asking that you help me. Vouch for the Peaks with your clan and I will see to it that you are given your freedom to continue on your path as the Maurader with a son to raise as you will. A month or two. Give me time to mend what Marceline broke.” It is a struggle now, the whisper in her voice trembles with the effort it takes for her to show weakness. An enemy. He is the enemy and yet she openly admits the Peak is in shambles. She has taken it on herself to rebuild them, to recenter the tattered threads that weaken with each passing breeze in hopes that her needle is sharp enough to bring them together once more. ”Are you brave enough to try?” she asks, her eyes flashing as she studies his hardened features closely. Her throat is laid bare, he need only reach out and grab it if he wishes. If he refuses… well, she would just have to come up with a backup plan now wouldn’t she?
Khar'pern
The jungle is dark but full of diamonds;