He was strong, so strong! Pride swelled in my chest, my nape arching protectively over his slight form. He shivers, I rub myself against him, promoting his new blood to flow through his foreign limbs, encouraging him to live, breathe and grow stronger still. He will be the next King, of this I am sure. His mismatched eyes are reminiscent of my own companion's, of little Dirk, though I know he has inherited them from both myself and Mauja.

I am confused for a moment however, as flowers begin to sprout from the droplets of crimson liquid that inevitably result from such a task as child-birthing. My own hazel gaze lowers to view this phenomenon, I smell the flowers - they are not like my own in their scent, but their origin, that of magic certainly is. I nod affirmatively; of course a child of mine would be born with magic. It was a blessing that showed off the strength of his father's blood too, that we might create such fortunate little souls. A wicked grin curves my lips at the thought of bending Mauja to my will again in the future; yes, it will happen my King, there is no use fighting it.

Suddenly I find myself flung before my son, as Dirk sounds a feline alarm to the leather-worker's arrival, I position myself so that he must come through me before he might spy the snowy blanketed hide of Tamlin. My ears dart back against my nape for an instant, though I can see he means no harm. Soon enough they rise again, however, as I struggle to grasp the words around his accent. I soften as he continues to speak, nodding my acknowledgement, if a little begrudgingly.

"We are well. He is a strong colt." I say simply, before Coris steps forth to proffer his pelt. I snort at it, the scent of the predator a bit off-putting to me. Dirk darts in from his guard, hissing at it, clearly upset at one of his own cousins been slain. I soothe him, he means well, and don't you agree Tamlin deserves the honour of wearing your cousin's skin? Is he not great enough for it already? Though Dirk cannot communicate with words back at me, he hears my voice, the tone and implications of it, and settles, the hairs along his back lowering to reveal his sleek, athletic build again. With a huff, and the flick of his tail, he turns and marches back to his post.

I take the pelt from Coris' proffered lips, whickering my gratitude and draping it over the frame of Tamlin. Though his hide may be snowy, the coming frosts would indeed cause shivers to rattle his bodice more violently than if he had longer to convert what milk he got from me into insulating fat. Dirk raises a mental alarm again, and I smile as the King steps forth. Rightly so should he be displeased, he should have been first onto the scene - I give him a pointed stare to communicate such thoughts.

"He is Tamlin." I say, my voice warm and smooth like velvet, affection thick and rampart. A great black beast then stumbles before us, before leaving just as quickly - I recognise the simple creature from the meeting, and am glad for its absence - it's lack of control and intelligence does nothing short of irk me. "He carries magic, Mauja. Of blood and flowers." I speak with pride, tilting my tiara so that my horn might point directly to the bloody pool of flowers at our feet. I reach out to touch my maw to Mauja's cheek, blowing softly upon him - if he didn't pull away, of course. I was mother to his first son, surely he would permit me a touch?

"He is the First Prince."