The Dark Empress did not generally do things simply for fun, but when Mauja had suggested a jaunt outside their borders, she had found it impossible to refuse. With her role as Lady of the Basin, it had become increasingly difficult to get away. She had become enveloped in her role, spending day in and day out accepting newcomers, scaring off intruders, and mingling with her herd to gain their respect and devotion. It was a slow process, but one she was coming to enjoy. Still, though, she missed the freedom of anonymity, the ability to come and go as she pleased. The only true fun she'd had recently was when Crowley had brought home a pegasus mare. As far as the shade knew, the feather-brain was still trapped in her lands, held for crimes that she did not commit. Not that anyone else needed to know that.

She had assumed that the FrostHeart sought peace and quiet. He had changed from the stallion she had once known, though she was unsure which she preferred. Her old self preferred his old self, but she was still learning herself now. Did she like the more sensitive King? Did she like that his mask fell before her? In a way it made her feel trusted, and she was pleased that she could get something from him that others could not. And did she not return the same courtesy to him? She was not the bare, broken mare that she had been during that brief dream not so long ago, but nor was she the false, masquerading queen that she had once been. Perhaps they were better suited this way. Perhaps things would work out better between them the second time around.

For the first time in her life, the jackal had no real plan. Once she would have plotted to gain his heart, his power, his prestige for her own - hell, she had done that! - but now what did he have to offer her that she did not have herself? It was a rather interesting conundrum, an intriguing role reversal, and she found that she was able to relax in his presence without the need to prove anything to him. Had she worried that he would leave the Basin, the Plague, she might have had something to fight for, but his loyalty was one thing that she did not question. With that in mind, it had been that much easier for her to fall into a faux peace as they walked along the base of the mountains and out into the world. When she returned, she would no doubt be faced with as many trials as she had been when she left.

She spoke rarely as they walked along, perhaps commenting here and there on various landscape features, the myriad of animals running around (or, rather, lying in the shade) in the Tallsun heat. It got warmer as they moved south, and uncomfortable for the Empress. By now she had grown used to the balmy, if not slightly chilly, temperatures of the North. The heat of the southern lands was most unpleasant, particularly as they reached the Thistle Meadow, a long stretch sans trees for shade. Her interest was piqued, though, by the rather large pair of wings in the middle of the field, and without thinking she began to approach. Closer inspection found a unicorn mare and a hybrid foal, and disgust colored the shade's thoughts. She glanced at Mauja, the old, mischievous, playful gleam in her amber gaze. Would he be up for a little fun, for old times' sake?

"Talk talk talk."

The scene was picturesque: the unicorn mare and her pegasus mate, their tiny foal sheltered behind their much larger forms. It was a scene of new life, of serenity, a little piece of heaven in a cold, hellish world. And they were out to mess it all up. The shadow-mare was not moved by the 'cuteness' of the goings-on - after all, what heart had she to speak of? Her open gaze and easy manner had evaporated, disappeared behind the mask she slipped on so easily, as though returning to the comfort of an old blanket, cast aside in adulthood but longed for nonetheless. Perhaps it was her true nature, to hide behind impassioned, gleaming orange eyes, to delight in the discomfort of those she deemed lesser. Perhaps it was simply the easier path to take. Or perhaps she was, in her truest sense, a mixture of both, a complex creature with complex emotions, thoughts, reasons.

It would have been all too easy, the picture that painted itself across her mind. The mare was tired, the jackal knew this all too well, having gone through the birthing process herself. She would not put up much of a fight. Between the two of them, she and Mauja could easily bring the pegasus down, for though he was clearly a fighter, so were they. And then the foal, so young and trusting, so incapable of escape. Well, they would make quick work of that. And then she'd had a few more trinkets to hold as trophies, she and her King would have had a wonderful bonding experience, and they could return home in high spirits.

And then Mauja spoke in earnest tones, and her loyalty to him was tested, torn as she was between distant, unknown feelings for him and the desire to rip, to tear, to kill. A moment's hesitation, but her ties to the FrostHeart held, and the brush of his banner against her hocks thrilled her for more reasons than one. Immediately, she understood that there was something deeper here, something of which she was not aware. Perhaps a spark of jealousy triggered in her mind, but she brushed it aside. There was no time for that, no room in her ever-whirring mind, not when she ran through scenarios, possibilities. After all, hadn't she seen the unicorn - he'd called her Delinne, hadn't he? - in the invasion. If nothing else, she deserved respect for fighting with them, didn't she?

Even if she had violated the laws of supremacy.

"Don't you know what he's done?" he asked, and the Empress stepped forward, standing by the King's shoulder. She cast him a look of complete dismay, then returned her amber gaze to the scene before her. Dismay shifted to pity as she listened to the stallion's protective reply. The shifts were easy, perfect, a lifetime of manipulation beneath the surface allowing her to react with the precision of a well-trained actress. She waited, biding her time, allowing Delinne the chance to speak. And then her own lyrics sprang forth, a liquid, poisonous tone designed to draw her prey into her clutches, to convince others of her truthfulness. Perhaps there was even a touch of magic in it, for her argument sounded convincing even to her own auds. "Darling, as lovely as a family is, don't you think he sounds a bit too defensive?"

She offered a sad smile to the mare, acting for all the world like a damsel that had once been wronged in a very similar way - though in what way the skyrat had done wrong, she was not sure. That, she would leave to Mauja. "Speaking strictly from experience, dear, I'd be a bit worried about that, if I were you." Still her tones are liquid, flowing, enticing. How easy it was to slip into this role, to participate in this deception. And how fun. Had they ever done something like this before? Or had their exchanges always been biting words and wariness, or, before that, seduction and power plays? She had caught the slight quirk of his mouth, the glint in his orbs. How dangerous would they be in these new roles that they had put on, this new kinship that they shared?

"Talk talk talk."

Even the shadow-mare knew that sometimes it was better to poison the mind rather than destroy the body. Sure, she could run the bastard through, it would be so easy, and she could trample the abomination of a foal, too, but that would not be as satisfying as watching their perfect little family fall to perfect little pieces before her eyes. No, in this, the torture was better, and as she watched the scene unfold, her thirst for vengeance upon those inferior to her was sated ever-so-slightly. The jackal resisted the urge to beam at her King, the urge to cackle maniacally as the pair before her confronted their shattered dreams. Instead, she kept her eyes steadily on Delinne, her gaze one of sympathy and friendship. Every now and then, her amber orbs would harden and turn cold as they flicked to the skyrat and back, as though she were angry at him for what he 'did' to Delinne.

Mauja was the epitome of perfection, not even needing magic to make his lies believable. Still, she would have her say, just in case there was any lingering doubt in Delinne's mind. She would help to drive the wedge between the couple, she would destroy their peace. And the foal... well, she would deal with that later. Azzaron screamed at them then, his fury palpable in the air that seemed to blaze around him. The she-demon resisted the urge to laugh, to scoff, to tell him that he was, quite simply, an idiot, not that she was surprised. So many of his kind were. But still she held her tongue, watching, waiting, a look of horror held carefully on her maw as he began to panic.

Mauja had stepped closer to Delinne, almost as though to shoo her away from Azzaron's grasp, to protect her from his fury. Now the Dark Empress, too, moved, placing herself firmly between the now-separated couple. Her eyes sparked dangerously as she considered the brute before her, fully aware that he may choose to lash out at her. Well, she could protect herself, couldn't she? And if she couldn't, she really had no business being the Lady of the Basin, now, did she? "You heard her," she hissed. "You may go, pegasus." She refrained from certain other, more preferable terminology, not wanting to give away their game, though it pained her to do so.

"Your presence is no longer required here. You are upsetting Delinne and the youngling, and quite frankly, I'm sure that we will care for them as you never did." To those around her, she looked fairly relaxed, though wary, fully aware of her position of danger. But her mind ticked steadily, dangerously on, and she was prepared for an attack at any time. On one level, she hoped that he would simply leave, for she had had her fun and was growing weary of him; on another, she desperately wanted him to lash out at her, to give her a reason to murder him where he stood.

"Talk talk talk."