Striking mights and maybes even more

A useless thing called life

It's a biting cold again

There were so many things she did not know about him; so many things few knew. He was a man who kept his secrets and thoughts close at heart, clinging to them desperately, and even now he felt disinclined to part from one of them. Instead, he just felt himself stumble inside, and his eyes closed briefly. Why were they all so faithless, so focused on their own misery, that they did not think another would be able to relate, to suffer as they had? Why did they always assume they were alone in what they went through, even when they spoke of it? Mauja was sure he wasn't the only one who went through self-doubt and nightmares, but the difference was that he did not speak of it, and thus, not tell others they wouldn't understand. But she did. She said he would not understand what it was like, to be played for a fool, to be used, and abandoned. It wasn't like Lotus and he had ever been in love, it had been a mere carnal act, but somewhere deep down, he knew that it had been a trick. She now carried Cineviam's spawn — had she given up on her plans for Tamlin, of wresting the "throne" from Psyche and instilling her snowcap boy as next King?

It would be so easy to say it, to open his mouth and say, I know what it's like, but only one had been present; d'Artagnan. d'Artagnan, and Lotus herself, were the only others who knew, how easily she had claimed him, and how easily she had left him. It did not hurt in the way Psyche's abandonment had, for he had known it was never something between him and the Amazon broodmare... But he knew what it was like, to have and love a child out of a parent you held no love for.

But even when he opened his mouth, to berate her or comfort her he didn't know, it lodged like a rock in his mouth and he couldn't get it out. It was not a secret he was meant to share, not a thing they were meant to know. He was supposed to just smile mysteriously when they wondered, when they asked, and never let them know the truth. Never let them know that he, too, could be wrong, fail, and bleed. Moments passed, counted only by his heart, until he opened his blue eyes again and sought for hers. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, somehow glad that he had not been able to speak of Lotus and Tamlin to her. If he had, surely he would've regretted it afterwards. Besides, this was not about him, and if he opened the gates for one thing, what would keep the rest from crashing out? He didn't want it to happen here, or now, at least of all in front of a mare he barely knew. "But love does not come as easily to all, as it comes to some." Within, he wondered if she loved her daughter any less of the "sins" of the father. Could he, ever, relate to that? No — Tamlin held his love, untarnished by Lotus' acts. Gently he blew hot air onto Leyra's muzzle, before raising his head again.

The world was too light, and too bright. How could it house all this darkness? "Do not linger upon it, or you will never find happiness." Although he spoke it quietly and confidently, the words rang hollow in his mouth and head. If only he could take his own advice, and put the doubts to rest — but it was like a too fresh wound, too open to stop bleeding and start healing. But, perhaps one day he, too, would find happiness.

He doubted it, as a white shape kept haunting his dreams and thoughts.