This is my kingdom come- [any]

[Dacia]

I can still hear you saying - 
you would never break the chain

She supposes that internally, this is always what Killdare has been like. A hardened, stony exterior, with a hint of something more dangerous lurking beneath the surface, something more tangible, something … more. But she’d never worked her way past the surface, never seen him expose emotion. But wait, that’s not true either, is it? She remembers now - the thing she tries to forget. The way she’d thought to come to him first, of all creatures. She sees it now, the concern he had, the apparent pain and sadness. These emotions had not been for her though. They had been for her dam. Killdare was only doing his duty when it had come to her, seeing her safely calmed before leaving her to find her brother.

Her brother. He mentions him now. “Of course …” She thinks, hearing of Lupei’s magnificent efforts. She and her sibling had not discussed the war. They did not discuss much, despite their close familial bonds. Lupei was her protector, nothing more, nothing less. It did not matter whom he killed, or in what fashion. They had always known what he was capable of. It doesn’t shock her either that Killdare had apparently missed her at the gathering, (his greeting betrays him) for what concern could a King have with a silly mare who enjoyed dress-up? Especially when an entire population of horses depended on his guidance.

Too busy for her. But she could never be too busy for him. His furrowed brow causes her to smile, the curtain slowly drawn back. “Try not to worry.” She offers, easing forward into his greeting if only for her own benefit. “The Tundra’s given you the workings of something tangible.” A bridge was never built in a single day. His mention of the Gates does cause her curiosity to spike, but she won’t push. It wasn’t her place to question, and she trusted Killdare. Perhaps more than she had trusted Straia. “Besides,” She murmurs, tail drawing lazy circles at her hocks, “What alliances can’t be gained through promises, can always be gained in other ways.”

An airy laugh slips past her lips. She's half-jesting. Her ideas are less than sinister. Killdare was a king now, and Kings were expected to produce heirs. Heirs held the purpose of unifying kingdoms. It was written into history, and Killdare could write his own chapter with such a move. But her thoughts wander too far; Dacia reels them in. “I’m glad the War is over.” She tells him, all notes of gaiety erased from her voice. “And I’m glad you’re alright.”

Dacia;

color-changing vixen of the chamber