"Yes, from what I have seen. So you are not a lunatic. You are simply brilliant."

It was entirely, utterly, completely, wholly, ridiculously unfair that such a comment left him speechless, tucking his head like a yearling who just had the first pretty mare give him a flattering comment. Fortunately for him, Delinne was eclipsing their attention, and he fought to keep a hold of his expression - to keep it with the same warm neutrality. No disbelief at what she'd said, no confusion, no embarrassment. Mercilessly and systematically Mauja tried to intercept each emotion before it made its way to the nerves of his facial muscles, but he could not keep his tail from giving his sides a few quicker, restless lashes. Hopefully she wouldn't notice. Hopefully she was too busy staring at the lightning-marked Delinne to look at the King and his stupid coltish reaction. Hopefully no one would see, and no one would care, and they'd just leave him in his - what, misery? He wasn't quite sure it was misery. Misery was cold, seeping, drowning. Misery was not a slow, gentle warmth, a quickening of the blood, the desire to give a shy, honest smile. No. Not misery. Just emotions that had no place in the life of an Ice King, a racist leader of a racist herd, with an agenda to take over the world. Inwardly he sighed, tinged with sadness. His life was not meant to be like that. The very magic of his blood defied it, and the attitude, the path he'd chosen, had further defined it - and him. Cold, cruel, merciless.

Yet it tugged at his lips, but he kept his eyes distracted, wishing he could drown inside himself - the quick dip under the surface, and not the slow death of sorrow. Cool his head off, get back on track, not so derailed, unhinged, thrown off course by a simple, innocent comment. Folly. Utter folly.

And of course, Ophelia would not let his own vague explanation suffice. It had been all smiles and masks, hiding the deeper, darker truth, but she let out a piece of it, and where annoyance should harden his features it was guilt that stabbed at his heart. There were darker days in Mauja's life, and the day Ophelia had crossed their border had certainly been one of them, even before her hellish sister nearly had choked him. He wanted to apologize, to take back what had happened, his own callous attitude when he'd just watched her fall over and kneel - his only comment being that she'd be awfully hard to move once dead or knocked unconscious. Still, he had called Deimos off. He'd have to life off that, for a while, the knowledge that he had intervened at least a little - too little, too late, anyhow. He would've smiled, then, said something ironic or hurtful or plain stupid, knowing that his own conflicted emotions could not be allowed to tarnish this - if he had to thrust the white mare aside for the sake of his herd and what he desired in the end, so be it and swallow the pain.

He would've, but he didn't; something spotted black and white waltzed out of the vegetation and he willingly allowed that distraction, too, to eclipse his attention. So convenient, all these mares popping out of bushes, rescuing him from the need to answer difficult things. Small, compact, spotted, this black and white menace swept down upon them without a single scrap of mercy, laughing and speaking foolish things. The mild amusement in his pale eyes turned to cold the moment the veiled insult slid off her tongue, jabbing at his faithful Delinne and earning a sharp, disbelieving remark. And then, she insulted poor Ophelia too, and something cold and dark and terrifying uncoiled in his soul. A growl threatened to tear its way from his chest, his entire ribcage vibrating with the suppressed noise. He fought to keep the beast in check, yet the blood in his veins chilled, darkness clawing at the edges of his mind - protect and serve, ice poised just a breath away. Just a single, swift decision away. All he had to do was to reach out...

He held back. Mauja the Ice King did not impale strangers or rip their bodies apart starting with their veins. Mauja the Ice King spoke deceivingly soft, little blades of poison running off his tongue.

"And what do they say of spots - the greater the spots, the greater the insanity?" His voice cut across the air like a cold blade, something unforgiving and unamused in his normally warm gaze. "Who are you, and why are you pestering my friends?" He was the only one she had not insulted (he'd done that himself to rob her of the fun); Delinne was a herd member and Ophelia he couldn't think properly about now.

( since Rover dropped Harley we're just to pretend she hopped off and left them alone. xD )

night-fate-stock -- dreamofsandman -- deirdre-T -- deviantart.com // i-mi.deviantart.com