The King made no moves towards her, watching her hoof stomp on the ground. He knew horses, he'd been around them for centuries, bred his most powerful warhorses to the war machines they were today. Though they were nothing like this and he would very much like her to be his.
He made no move towards her, instead, tilting his head and examining her breeding.
"Perhaps you are meant for agility, my Gwnthaints would surely struggle to capture you..." He observed, her legs were far too thin and delicate to go marching into battle. "Your wings seem powerful, strong shoulders to take you to the skies.... Not just decoration, are they? Quite the Morrígan.... Harddwch peryglus rhyfel..."