So cold. Any warmth that the shadow-mare might have felt for the Frostheart was shoved to the back of her dark mind. Of course, how could she have forgotten - the name 'Frostheart' was a hard-won title proclaiming the icy labyrinth that was was his soul. Why should she have expected anything less of him? It wasn't as though he had changed. It wasn't as though she had changed. Perhaps her decision to return had been a foolish folly, destined to end in all the same ways. She had left he who would have made her Queen, he who would have helped her see through her worldly goals, he who had given her a daughter, a life, a future. As they say, history often repeats itself. Why should this be any different?

The little colt's shift in attention caught the shadow-mare's amber gaze, and she cast a weary glance toward the distant horizon. A glimmer of surprise was set aflame in her breast as the ever-present fog began to shred into whisps. Brilliant hues of yellow, orange, even pink stretched across the horizon, the light offering a new warmth as morning broke. It was not her favorite time of day, as the fae preferred the solace that the night offered, but something about the young prince's wonder was reminiscent of her own youth. A distant memory broke through the impenetrable wall of her mind: brilliant hues, her mother's warmth, a lonely feeling. A flicker of something indescribable entered her gaze; she preferred the memories of her later childhood, of her father's approval. After all, her mother had left her. Giselle had left her. Everyone left her unless she left first.

She turned her cranium from the morning's display. It would do her no good to spend her time on useless days past. What had she done with her life except ruin her chances of achieving what she wanted for the Unicorn race? But no, that was what she had come to remedy. The cool, calculating look had returned as she raised her orbs to Mauja once more. "Well, darling, I'm sure you know what I want." It was a slightly seductive tone - perhaps not the best to take with the stallion whom she had run from - but it had worked for her before. Even still, to earn her way back into his good graces - or at least be granted toleration - she would have to give more than that. "I'd like to return, Mauja. I should not have left my duties here." She would not say that she ought not have left him. Nor would she apologize for her actions. But she was truthful, to an extent, and that was the best her dark heart could offer.

[W/C | 459]