It was as eerie, as foreign and fascinating, to watch her, as it had been to gain control of Monster. At his appearance she dipped into an elegant bow, arching her white neck and lowering her horn towards the ground. It took him by surprise, but all he did was raise a 'brow at her courtesy. It was, perhaps, the first time one had bowed to him within Helovia - and she was graceful, too, beautiful when she did it, her movements flowing. Beside him, Deimos stirred, and growled just as the mare greeted him with a gently chimed "Sir,". He felt the necromantic power shift in the air beside him, stroking his skin with hungry fingers seeking to get in, to slip inside and steal the breath from his lungs and the blood from his veins. He shifted aside slightly, watching the temper boil in the mismatched eyes the young mare possessed. Her provoking comment about the Sun making short work of their borders had already given him an inkling of a sharp tongue and a temper, so the flash of it across her eyes came as no surprise. But it seemed that Mauja's cold presence forced some calm onto the situation: she composed herself, reined in her anger, curbed her tongue.

While he did not approve of her brazen trespass and previous words, he did approve of her recovery. The apology soothed some of his ruffled feathers, and the hardness of his gaze softened slightly, but he was not any less vigilant. He watched her every move, like a hungry beast watching its prey, and he frowned. Memory bank? What did that mean? But she could not elaborate, because beside him, he felt the power shift in the air, a warning. Instinct caused him to backpedal rapidly, putting several yards between him and Deimos. Destruction, life-eating, spread out from him as he growled a command; it reached the white mare, gripped her, and her eyes went vacant as her body screamed. Mauja knew then that all Deimos had ever done to him was nothing but child's play, a warning, and a shiver traveled down his spine as the scene unfolded. Deimos, stoic, ashen gray, his long horn glowing blue, stood so calmly while destruction raged out from him. And the stranger, she fell onto her knees and crashed down on the brittle earth, ash marring her snowy perfection in a mockery of the King's own appearance; she writhed, she screamed, until she grew stiller and silent.

He knew, then, what Deimos was capable of.

"Stop," he said quietly, but the command rang through the air with crisp authority. He did not want the death of another on his conscience, but this had been warning enough - she had not done enough to die for her crimes, not in the moment of her retribution: of her apology. It could still have been salvaged... But he found it not in his heart to blame the necromancer for his deeds, for all he'd done was protect that which Mauja cherished the most: the Edge family. But should he ignore the command now... The monarch's blue eyes narrowed, his own darker magic held at the ready - ready to strike down and punish, should Deimos fail to heed his command. Within his own body, it gathered, a chill in the pit of his stomach. He would not give it away, would not tell that his magic stood poised to strike down one of his own. He did not want to do it.

Didn't know if he could. The stranger would be lost anyway, in the time it took for his magic to do its work.

With a silent sigh he released his grip on it, the chill leaving his body. "This is inconvenient. It'll be hard to drag her away." It was with a chilling detachment he made the observation, looking at her fallen form, but it was also true - it was hard to drag horses, and with a resigned sigh he cocked one hip and put the hind hoof on its tip. Nothing left to do but wait for her to come to.. or see if she'd slip into a coma or die, or if Deimos would kill her. There was, stupidly enough, very little Mauja could do if he chose to not listen to the order to stop.