Queen's Coming

[Kenren]

Queen's Coming
Flawed Princess & Minske Mavecci

The December morning dawned quiet and crisp, and the gentle silence in the air was both calming and focusing at the same time. Two men walked toward the Green Horse Fields track, an air of determination about them. These two men had a lot of expectations from Valkyrie on their shoulders, and they had everything they needed to make a big mark if the fates swung in their favor. One man was Cole Mavecci, head trainer for Valkyrie, a man that felt he had something to prove at this point. The second was Marcus Anton, the thirty-five year old jockey who had come up just short, three times now, on the fantastic Flawed Princess. He, too, had something to prove. Experienced trainer, experienced jockey, and the incredibly talented horse led between them. Flawed Princess, of the three, had nothing to prove. She was a champion already in their eyes, a powerhouse who had truly bloomed in this, her sixth year. She had nothing to prove, but Valkyrie was hoping that she'd be able to finish strong for them. She deserved the big wins after the year she'd had, and they hoped the planets would finally align and get this mare into the winners circle for them.

Flawed Princess had become a name that needed no introduction. However, since coming to Valkyrie, she'd come in second twice and third once. Of course, her competition had been stiff, but it had been all along. Perhaps she'd just needed to get used to a new trainer and a new jockey this late in her career. Perhaps luck just hadn't been on her side. Regardless of the reason, Cole and Marcus had an odd sense that they needed to make it up to the mare. She was giving them so much, in her previous performance and hopefully her future foals. They wanted to give her the career-defining wins that she so deserved, and put her on the pedestal she so deserved to be on.

They reached the track, and Amira looked out across it, ears politely pricked forward and a bright light in her dark eyes. Light was only just beginning to touch the sky, and the track was lit by the big white lights that had shone over so many champions in the past. The three were quiet for a moment, then Cole reached out his hand and touched the strong neck of the bay. Amira turned her head, giving him an unreadable look. "Last work before the big day," Cole said, and it was unclear whether he was talking to Amira, Marcus, or himself. The man stepped back, giving the mare's jockey a leg into the saddle. Marcus was an accomplished and experienced jockey, so Cole knew a switch wasn't an option. He wouldn't do it even if it was. He trusted the man to get the job done. "Take her a sharp five. She knows what she's doing, so just let her do her thing." It mirrored the words he normally told his jockeys just before a race: "Let them run their race. You back them up." Marcus nodded, not a man of many words, and he lifted the reins to guide the mare onto the turf.

Amira, as always, handled like a dream. The mare's long strides were easy at the walk, and as Marcus moved her into a trot, she extended almost like a dressage horse. The mare's sleek coat rippled with the movements of sinewy muscles, not a single flaw as she went. She was so elegant, no matter what she did. Marcus had never ridden a horse with such a air of class before her, and he couldn't deny being sad that the fantastic mare would be retired at the end of the season. The World Turf Cup, her start at the end of the week, would be one of her last races. Possibly her last race before the Breeders' Cup, though it hadn't been decided what race she would take on. This next race would help make a lot of decisions, and Marcus hoped he would be able to pull through for the mare who put a fair amount of trust in him.

After a few minutes, Marcus moved the mare into a canter, keeping the speed for about a furlong before urging her into a slow gallop. The mare responded immediately, almost eagerly - her perked ears told Marcus everything. Amira loved this, going out on the track and running to her heart's content. He couldn't help but feel she might have a hard time adjusting to a quiet retirement. Smile on his face, the man edged Amira toward the rail as the came closer to their starting point. Amira anticipated nothing, calmly waiting for his cues. Leaning close to the mare's neck, the man asked her for speed, and the gave it readily. The bay surged forward with tremendous power, hooves churning the turf as she charged for her rider. Marcus kept steady, holding her just a little as they made it through the third furlong of the work. Then, as they reached the fourth furlong, Marcus gave the mare her head. He didn't have to encourage her in the least - Amira dug forward on her own, making the best of her freedom. She extended beautifully, stretching as only a horse who knew her body well could, and all too soon she passed beneath the wire. Marcus kept her forward on the gallop out, and she didn't take more than a word or two of encouragement. Marcus stroked the mare's neck as they slowed, leaving her a loose rein to stretch her neck as they came down to a walk.

They made it to the trainer, and Marcus hopped off. The mare gave them one last unreadable look before she was taken by a hotwalker, who would later take her to a much-deserved meal at the barn. Marcus turned to Cole, taking off his helmet. "She felt good, but then, she always does." Cole nodded, worrying a toothpick between his lips as per usual. "Yeah, she's as sharp as ever. I don't think she's lost anything, and you ride her well. I think luck's just been against her for awhile. So who knows? I think she could even power through bad luck if she decides she's had enough of finishing behind." Marcus smiled in agreement. If she put her mind to it, he was pretty sure Amira could do anything.