Damn Warwick for losing. Damn him for allowing the Forest queen to snatch her away. Damn herself for not stepping in to fight for her own freedom, her own dignity, when she had the chance. Mazikeen seethes the whole way to the Forest, her legs thrashing violently beneath the gently rolling waves. She is so consumed by her own thoughts that she barely pays any mind to Warcrime at her hip, uncaring as to whether the girl can keep up. If she drowned - well, it was funny, how nature had a way of culling the weak.
The once-was queen has barely been given an opportunity to catch her breath, her sides heaving from exertion and her coat slick with saltwater, when the Forest queen addresses her from where she waits upon the beach. 'You do not need to stay on my banks,' the inky-coated mare tells her, her voice steady and even, without even the faintest hue of anger or irritation. For a fleeting moment Mazikeen's expression shifts, brow raising and eyes widening, before she schools her features to hide her vexation behind a mask of detached neutrality.
That was it, then? What was the point of the damn battle if her captor was just going to turn around and let her go? Had she so badly felt the need to just prove a point against Warwick? Mazikeen had been dragged across the islands and for what? Absolutely nothing. At least when Warwick had brought her home she'd gotten something out of it. It had been worth her while. This? This was just a waste of her time.
The force with which Mazikeen's teeth clenched together as she watched the ebony mare disappear into the shadowed forest was enough to set her head to throbbing, the beginnings of a headache blooming behind her eyes. With a huff she turned back towards the sea, but hesitated as her hooves meet the rolling waves. This, she realized, was her first taste of freedom since her youth, when she had shackled herself to Helios. She was free from her fetters, no longer bound to Warwick nor the Forest queen. Yet on the tail of this realisation came another: she was at a crossroads, faced with choices that may change the trajectory of her journey forever.
It would be easy to return to Warwick and to the comfort and clout he had given her. To raise their children as a family and continue to build upon the progress they had made on Tinuvel. She could reclaim her position as the Cove's queen and see to it that her end of their bargain with Marceline was upheld. It would be the right thing to do, given how fiercely she had proclaimed she would remain loyal to him. If ever Warwick had doubted her before, her returning willingly to his side would certainly erase those doubts once and for all.
But opportunity could also be found elsewhere. Perhaps with a certain black brute on Salem, whose piercing crimson gaze she could not shake from her mind. There was something about Lucifer that seemed to draw her in, the darkness in her reaching out to the darkness in him. There was potential for something greater between them, but would it be worth abandoning the life she had built on Tinuvel? Now that Mazikeen had gotten a taste of power she found herself reluctant to release her hold upon it. There was no guarantee Lucifer would ever be able or willing to provide her the same lifestyle she had come to know in the Cove. It would certainly be a gamble. Mazikeen had taken many a great risk in her life, but to give up her title and her home and her family seemed far too foolish to justify.
Then again, was life really worth living without taking such risks? There was a certain thrill in the possibility of casting aside logic in favor of pursuing the unknown.
Dark nostrils flare as Mazikeen takes in a steadying breath, glancing north, then south, then north again. At last she stirs, dark lips parting to loose a beckoning call for Warcrime as her lean legs carry her forward into the frothing sea, her decision made.