I follow Momma to the meeting, enthusiasm lining me and nearly boiling out of my eyeballs; the last one we’d been to, she promised, was much smaller than this one, a meeting in which all the unicorns would come and I could see for myself why it was she loved them all so.

Momma says stupid things a lot.

Mostly what I heard when she said all of this was that Aithniel would be invited as would all the other children I’d seen playing the meadow of the mountain, and that it would be a possible place that I might make some friends. Its not to say that Momma and Aithniel aren’t helpful and good to me, but a boy needs more than just a girl and a mother in his life, doesn’t he?

When we come to the place, the Lord is already there. I take my place not far from my mother and watch him through the corner of my eye, trying not to be obvious in my study and stare. He is really strong, with a deep chest and an incredibly long horn in comparison to momma’s, and his eyes watch the land before him as if they can see more than just swaying grass; when Deimos has been mentioned to me in my lessons, mother describes him as carrying an air of coldness, of ruthlessness. I can almost feel it from here, the radiant ice of his aura, and while I am not a cowardly child (rather quite brave), I retract my eyes from him swiftly and hope he did not notice I watched him.

The others are coming with in moments of the call that blasts from him, my golden eyes filling with awe and excitement as I shift my weight from one hoof to the other, anxiously watching each new face trickle in and trying my best to name them from the lessons me and momma have had. There is Zikar-Sin, the good friend to have, and I smile at him quite regaly (at least I think that’s the face I made) and attempt to mirror the air with which mother carries herself, and many others I know by name and conversation such as Rhiannon and dad; then there are those, like Farenjer, the Weaver, and Lena, the Time Mender, that I know only because momma told me who they were.

But, what draws my attention most fully, is the arrival of a little boy.

He comes in at first and lingers in the back, and I stare longingly at him from my station and wonder if I should risk getting yelled at later to go and meet him. I think he’s Deimos’ son, the same black colt I’ve seen with the Lord or his dam from a distance, but it doesn’t really matter if he’s the other prince or not.

He’s a boy and he’s my age. It’s nearly too much to watch him meander his way slowly over to the fore and stand in front of the Reaper, confirming, for the most part, my suspicions that this is the other prince of the snow. My ears rise and my eyes feel like they’re going to escape my face before I finally snort and trot over to him, slipping between the gathering frames and hoping I can make it before the big shots start talking.

With a sigh of relief, I come to a pause just as the demanding voice of the Lord booms out over us all.

"Hey," I whisper, muzzle slipping closer to the other boy and word finding purchase between the slips of silence in his father’s speech, something about World’s Edge and alliances and shit I really cannot be bothered with.

Its not until momma’s voice rings out into the air describing a party that they have won my attentions.

Golden eyes snap onto her with an enthusiastic ferocity that might shock my mom if she’s quick enough to catch my expression. A festival?

Does that mean other kids will be there?

I glance over to Erebos with excitement on my face, smiling happily at the thought of music and fun.