Sikeax,

Love. She knows it’s there the first moment that he shivers beneath her touch, the first cry out for everything she has to offer him in the world. It plants a small, tired and winter-worn flower in her chest and waters it with tears of happiness, bathed in the sunlight that glows from her smile. He takes away all of her worries about how she’ll be as a mother to him with that one small cry, looking for her, begging for her love.
And little does he know that she has enough of it fill the entire oceans, all the oceans that have been and will ever be, just for him.
The low exchange of comforting noises slips from her like a siren’s song, stopping every few seconds through his first bath to love him more, rubbing her velvet muzzle across his small body and showing him exactly how much he means to her. It gives her the feeling of a fresh start in life, something she can only remember when crying at the borders of the Dragon’s Throat, swearing loyalty with tears brimming in her eyes, firmly attached to her father’s side like he could save her from the world that from day in and day out had taught her that she was supposed to be hated, not loved.
“I love you, my precious-”
The first exchange of words to one another is cut short. Something inside roars from within her chest like an angry lion that tells her that this beautiful, rare moment that she might never be able to experience again in her life has been tainted with the presence of someone not worthy.
If even Hobgoblin was to fall from the skies and come between her and her new son, she would of gone for blood. Adrixaura had brought her into a cruel world with utmost secrecy and sacredness,   sharing moments meant only to be held between a mother and her new babe.
Stone cold blue eyes glare with a raging flame that could almost rival the hatred and aggression of Hobgoblin towards those that dared to stand against him. Behind the veil of their bond, she cries out to him with pleas and begs. She doesn’t want to be alone and exposed, forced to protect her son when he could so easily become hurt because a reckless fight with Amara.
The other mare’s state encourages her to hide away her newborn, stepping over his small, frail and hungry body with the most amount of caution possible, guarding him with her life. Out of all the warning signs she might of been able to give, of all the ones that could so clearly portray ‘fuck off’ perfectly, it’s her face that about does it.
Right now, she wants Amara to die, because how dare she think she could invade this moment. How dare she choose to make herself the center of the show, forcing Sikeax to turn her attention away from the most important thing in her life beginning today? How fucking DARE Amara choose to be selfish, putting herself in a place she has never ASKED to be placed in, a place that she had no right to inhabit simply because she held envy and jealousy over a newborn?
Instead of replying with respect and the caring tongue that is shared between lifelong friends who have made the oath to always be there for one another, Sikeax makes the choice to snort in Amara’s face, bellowing with hot air as if the gates of hell might rip open from her nostrils.
“You, Amara? How could you deserve this?” She laughs, half-assed and mocking all of Amara’s childish emotions at once. “Would you like to be the child? Would you like to nurse instead of him? The way you’re acting makes me think that his newborn mind is far more sensible than your adult mind. You can be a child with him. I can raise you two together, and then, maybe then, I can teach you how to be selfless and kind to others.”
Her words are spitting fire and acid, fueled on by how Hobgoblin now feels at the sight of Amara. The bloodied mess is an absolute opposite to the fresh, clean and beautiful slate of the child. From deep within the pit of his stomach, full from a fresh meal, he feels the urge to vomit.
The rightful throne is left abandoned, landing beside Sikeax’s sweat-coated body and slipping away into a more attractive form. It is here that he is able to see the child for the first time, confused and already attempting to stand on shaking legs in a search for its mother’s teat.
“Is this baby?” No answer. Sia’s eyes are still caught up in the battle with Amara, burning like embers. There might be even the rare chance that he is the calm one in the situation, sitting with a child that he has no idea how to work with.
“What do we call baby?”
It strikes her like a raw chord. Amara’s presence had kept her away from the important things that a mother should do on the child’s first day. The urge to spit comes up again. “Your selfishness has taken away from me the first thing I’ve been able to truly enjoy in a long time, something special. You deny me the ability to name my son, my precious firstborn. You even cut me from being able to show him the love he needs because you feel that the world must revolve around yourself.” Nothing dares to stop her. She’s become a lioness, one who is more than willing to verbally maul those who step in the way of her and her child.
As for physically, she could always cry out, beg for someone, anyone, within the caring and protective walls of the Dragon’s Throat to aid in keeping her and her new son safe.
“Are you proud of how you act?”
One more final blow, all to seal it in all in like a hot wax seal of a particularly harsh letter of hatred.

OOC: Writing Zhu with Sikeax from this post on. It's a bit tiring to have to write two posts back to back to keep the thread moving and it'd be easier to have that way.

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