The colt lays down, understandably exhausted. I feel the same tug of fatigue at my limbs, but lock them into place - I can move swifter to defend him with my hooves beneath me, and my legs straight, not bowed down and hampered by the bulk of my barrel. I smile fondly at him, he will be great, I was sure of it.

Of course, such blissful motherings could not go on forever, something, or someone just had to stick her spoilt little horn into the fray and get all worked up. I was thoroughly amused at the little brat's clear jealous reaction - she was envious of his greatness, I could tell. Jealous that he had the attention of her father, jealous even that he was a colt, the first born to her father. So conditioned, I was, to believing that fillies were greater than colts, I had surprised myself at so easily allowing the maternal instincts to accept this creature - I may have grown up a sexist, but my passionate beliefs had shifted to that of a racist. Stallions were not so bad, not when I could control them with the simple shift of my flowery mane.

The snow child leaves the fray soon enough, seemingly unsettling poor Coris and taking him too. Mauja surprises me a little with his sharp words, and I dare not rebut him, not when he has that serious, piercing look in his eyes. I nod simply, once, accepting that Mauja would not give the Prince the title of King just because of the blood that ran through his veins. That was fine by me - the colt was great, and would prove himself greater still in the future, he would earn his title, his place in the herd.

"Even so, he will be great." I speak softly, reaching my muzzle to gently brush against my icy King, hoping to soften the cold exterior that so often entraps his FrostHearted soul. Children saw the world through inexperienced, selfish eyes - Snö would grow to realise that if she truly wanted to be great for this herd, her brother's appearance would not impede that, not if she truly wanted it. Ah, but the child was inconsolable, it would seem. Bending my tiara to brush my beloved little Tamlin's crown, I blow warm air over him, as if my kisses would penetrate the simple dreams he must be having. I am tired, but serenely so, though the past minutes have held some tension, it ebbs away from me swiftly, and I feel simple, sheer exhaustion take its place. A sigh expands my ribcage and I resign myself to what has occurred, silently looking forward to raising this colt, who would be the next King.

[ Wrapping this up - Lotus is basically sitting back and resting now ;-) ]