What had they become?

She hadn’t ever truly understood their relationship. At the beginning, it was a union to gain power. At the beginning, she had given in to the guise of love, perhaps – but no. Not even that, for he had known the difference, he had known her all along. And perhaps they could have loved, before she left – wasn’t that what had scared her into hiding, after all? That potential weakness that accompanies affection? And when she had returned, she had found him scarred beyond repair, the father of a new colt (where was the bastard now, she wondered) and the bearer of a newly frozen heart. Perhaps it would have been easier if she had never returned, but she had, and she had determined to return herself to his good graces. Perhaps she had learned from her past mistakes – or perhaps she simply hadn’t had the time to repeat them.

The invasion came too soon, his disappearance came too soon, and somehow the shadow-mare had assumed the role of leader. She had hated him then, though she could not say where her anger came from. If it was because he had left her, because she needed him, because she wanted him, she would never say it. Instead, she buried her fury and her grief (if it were there at all) beneath a layer of frigidity that had not previously existed. She began to understand how he had become the FrostHeart. How he had felt when she had left. No, she could never understand that, for her departure was voluntary. How much more that must have injured him!

The dream had broken her, his return had overjoyed her – but what were they now? At times, she felt that she owned him, not in the way that she owned the Plague and her followers, but in the way that one lover claims another. At times, she could entertain the fantasy of what might have happened, had she stayed. What might could happen now that she had returned. But at other times, he remained at a distance, a placement that she accepted more than willingly. They placed each other in neat little boxes with tidy little labels and left them to rot, not caring to further any relationship that might have been. And yet, regardless of how she felt about him, the knowledge remained that she needed him. It was a weakness that she might have been loathe to admit, once, but now she recognized the impossible: they were stronger together than they were apart.

Who needs love? Perhaps a pairing based on mutual need, mutual trust, mutual goals – perhaps not a pairing of carnal desires, but one of mutual respect – perhaps that was what they had accomplished, perhaps that was what they should have had all along. (What is love, anyway? Is that love? Does she love him?) ”I wanted to come home, too,” he told her, and there was something horrendously sad about the way he said the words. ”Because this is where I belong.” The silence that followed was oppressing, suffocating. He was so close to her, so unbearably close, and it would have been so easy to simply breach the tiny chasm of space, to press her maw to his shoulder. It would have been so easy, but would it have been right?

”You’ve grown.” Of course she had grown. She had been forced to, hadn’t she? The moment had passed, and she regretted her lack of action. Such an emotion was a new one for the Dark Empress – regret and guilt were simply not in her repertoire of emotions – but it was there nonetheless, and she looked away to mask it. ”I had to,” she replied simply. ”There’s more than just hatred,” she found herself continuing. ”There are other things to consider. To feel. I thought that caring would make me weak, but… it would seem that my bond with the organization is stronger. With the herd, too.” With you. But she couldn’t quite say it.

"Talk talk talk."