He resisted her embrace only for a moment—it was the last remnant of his foolish pride—before he folded into her thin neck. His own neck sought to squeeze along her prominent, gaunt withers. There was a gentle fierceness in his motions, but he assuredly was handling his delicate mother with care.

Black-rimmed ears swiveled forward at her quiet hum that vibrated against the gilded skin of his neck. The smallest of smiles curved up the corners of his black lips as he pressed his muzzle gently into his dam’s shoulder.

Though the rare, small smile faded as Rexanna spoke again, speaking of how things were difficult for her and that she missed him, too. Intense, blue eyes stare and study her as she offered and assuring smile—though he found it not assuring, as any need to give an assurance meant there was something not quite right.

So, instead, he simply watched as she quietly laughed and asked after himself, “What happened when you were gone? Was Thranduil kind to you?” He scoffed slightly at the idea of the Laurelin being ’kind,’ his unkind laugh not aimed at his dam but at the idea of the Laurelin’s kindness. While the dark prince did not know the type of relationship the golden man shared with his dam, he knew that the gilded-tongue man was more rigid mentor than friend.

“He taught me much,” was his slow answer, gaze dipping away from Rexanna to stare into the cave’s shadows, “He’s a gifted man,” there was an equal part of jealousy and respect moving in the undercurrents of his voice, “I owe him.” It was, perhaps, the first time the colt had shown respect for anyone other than himself and Kiada.

And then he paused for a long, few, moments—a heavy pause as he considered just what to tell his dam of his time away from his family. Then, with a deep breath and a gaze that did not leave the cave’s shadows his low voice rolled, “A mare…stole me from the Basin—Bellisma,” shame colored the strong features of his face at the idea he could be taken against his will, as if he were powerless, “She’s small and gold and… and beautiful. She said she had watched me, seen my power, but wanted to teach me to… ‘use it properly.’” He paused, confusion entering into his eyes; he had been so young, so lonely, so angry, without a father and mother whose heart was elsewhere…

“She cared for me and I… I care for her,” he paused again, ink-dipped legs shifting uncomfortably as his pubertal body remember how he cared for the lovely, desert-born mare, “But she left me and I… I wasn’t sure where home was until Thranduil found me.” His gaze sharpened then, anger replacing the uncertainty as he looked to his dam, “I saw Kiada with another colt while I was gone—she was fawning over him, as if I was all but forgotten.” These words came out in a rush, angry and hurt, revealing the truth of his distance and abandonment.

And then he fell silent, his eyes falling to the leaf-covered cave floor.