’Megaera protect Mordecai.’ The gruff grunt brought the mare’s dark eyes up to meet the hard, rust-colored stare. A calmer Meg might have realized that his words where not so much an order as a statement of fact, as if in the stallion’s mind there was no other course to take. Megaera was not calm now. With her insecurities already at the forefront of her mind she was on the defensive and heard clipped sentence as command, somehow implying that she wouldn’t do everything in her power to protect the child between them. Fury at the imagined insult blazed and was plain enough on her features as she glared at Einarr. Protecting was not the same as caring for and it was only the latter that she felt so unsuited to. She would have shot her mouth off in that instant had Mordecai not interrupted.

’Mai.’ In the instant she looked down, black eyes meeting black eyes, there was no anger to be found. Megaera had no power to stop herself from melting into the adoration on Mordecai’s face and return it with her own, even if a trace of trepidation still hid in the corners. Ave…Mai… the words were unfamiliar but she had a strong feeling she knew what they meant. As Mordecai turned to nurse again, Meg struggled with the word. Einarr had made no objection to the title and because of that Meg felt a little…. relieved? As hard as she tried to fight this change, as fearful as she was that she might fail, Megaera was awed to find that she wanted this. She wanted Mordecai.


Had the god’s magic done that too? Did it matter? The battlemare’s mind grasped at explanations, searching for reasons not to feel as she did. She stood, strangely quiet, watching the filly bed down in her shadow, and her mind landed only on how utterly foreign the concept of motherhood was. Megaera’s own had never shown any modicum of care. The harlot had abandoned her to the sneering resentment of the other mares in her father’s herd after only a few weeks and little Meg had never seen her again. She didn’t know what a good mother was. Alija came to mind, and Meg supposed her little-known herd sister was the best model she had, but the purple mare was patient, and kind and soft. Megaera thought herself none of those things.

Her head lifted to look at Einarr, and again the inexperienced mare reached for a guise of anger to mask herself. “How?!” the word was not quiet, but still harsh and demanding. “I am warrior, not a nanny! What if something threatened the Throat? How am I to FIGHT, to PROTECT her or the herd when I cannot drag a child into battle!” With every word her body tensed, egging herself on. She moved in a flash, finally doing as what fear always drove to and lashing out at the best thing she had to blame, Einarr. Her neck stretched and teeth aimed to snap at the side of his neck, not enough force to draw blood, but enough to hurt.


@[Einarr]