I have always been a loner by nature. I partially blame my family for their role in my withdrawal from the world, for the way that they cast me aside, filled with fear and hatred and disgust. Their feelings for me had been feelings that I projected onto myself, and so when Thor had exhibited such a keen interest in me, I will admit that it took me by surprise. And yet I had been drawn to him as well, intrigued, intoxicated almost. What I felt for him was strong, far stronger than anything that I had experienced before, but I did not know that I could call it love. What was love, really? I had seen so little of it in my admittedly short life - how was I to know if it was what I was feeling, or simply what I wished for? Should I just know? Or was it okay to question it?

Perhaps these feelings were why I fled the Edge when I began to feel the first pangs of labor. I had been grazing shortly after rising that morning, my belly more swollen than I could ever have imagined. A wave of pain had washed over me, a cleansing fire as I realized that the baby was coming. The baby was coming! I had no love for the thing that leeched the life from me, for my pregnancy had not been pleasant, and so I admit that I was eager to have it out of me. I knew that I would not be able to simply return to my old ways, and truth be told I was scared half to death. What would happen when I blacked out? Would I harm the foal? How could I be a good mother when I couldn't even take care of myself?

And so as glad as I was to be rid of the cursed thing, some motherly instinct told me to be protective, to be worried. And as wave after wave of pain washed over me, I became more and more worried. Finally, reaching the dark embrace of the Deep Forest, I collapsed to the ground, grinding my teeth together to keep the pain from escaping my throat and failing. A shriek of pain echoed through the emerald canopy, and for a moment my thoughts became unaligned and I almost though that I was someone else. A shudder wracked my body, and suddenly the pain abated. For a brief moment, I gulped the cool air of the forest; then I rose, turned, and surveyed my daughter. She looked like her father in coloring, a deep bay. Her face was ringed with white, one of the oddest markings I had seen, but endearing. I set to washing her off, and I felt a sudden protective love steal over me.

Oh. So that was what love felt like.

I wanted to keep her safe.

I wondered how I would save her from myself.


"talk"

If love is surrender, then whose war is it anyway?

I sensed his presence before he made himself visible. I wasn't sure why this surprised me so - had he not always managed to find me before? - but when he emerged from the trees, a mild surprise registered on my face. Guilt was quick to follow as I noted the distance in his eyes and voice. Had I made a mistake, coming here alone? Running from one who would have given me company? From one who quite clearly cared for me deeply? He had found me here, had watched over me in my vulnerability, and approached now to continue protecting our small family. Was that what we were? A family? It was a concept that I had yet to consider, and as he grew closer I felt as though it might just be so.

Something inside me adjusted then, and I felt as though I saw clearly for the first time in weeks. Later I would come to understand that my personality might have been warped by the effects of pregnancy and the hormones that came with it, but at that moment, all I knew was that it felt like coming up for air. My head raised from our daughter's form and I offered a tired smile. "She is beautiful," I agreed softly. Again the lack of emotion in his voice sent a shudder of guilt through me. It was deserved, I knew - I owed him more than running away. I hoped that the damage I had done was not irreparable, for as he greeted out daughter I saw for the first time a vision of my - our - future. Was it too late now to make that happen?

I watched in silence as the youngling rose unsteadily to her feet. She was a fighter, she was strong, I could see it clear as day. "Essetia," Thor christened her, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a sense of deja vu arose. I shook my head, tossing it away, for he had never named me, had he? When he glanced at me, his eyes curious, as though waiting for my verdict, I stretched across the distance between us to brush the velvet of my muzzle over his shoulder. "She is strong, like you," I told him. It seemed that she had received most of her physical characteristics from her father. I could only hope that she had also been blessed with his mind, for mine was notoriously unstable.

Again I fell into the spiral of worry that had plagued me for months as I had carried her within my womb. She had been safe there, but in this new world, she was in danger. The world was a cold place, I knew that all too well, and she had something else working against her - a mother with some strange affliction. Would Thor always be there to protect her? Would she come to fear me as I feared myself? The pain of such a relationship would undoubtedly break me, for the greatest of any parent's fears is to lose their child. Would it be worse to lose one to death or to a life without me? My orbs were undoubtedly troubled, but instinct told me to nudge Essetia gently, to guide her to her first meal. Later, I told myself. I will worry later.


"talk"

If love is surrender, then whose war is it anyway?

I chuckled as my daughter - our daughter - struggled to her feet. She seemed unsure, half hiding beneath me and half wanting to greet her father. I stretched my nape to nudge her gently, and before long she was happily experiencing her first meal. I could feel it then, the glorious joy of motherhood, and suddenly the long months of torment seemed well worth the trouble. I sighed softly, a sound of complete and utter contentment. Essetia. Oh, how beautiful she was! Such a new arrival and yet already the light of my life! How differently I felt than I had not so long ago, when I had been almost resentful of the raging ball of hormones within my womb - but now there was only the pride in our creation. She finished suckling and moved toward my shoulder (I smiled at her awkward, spindly movements), wuffling and squealing.

She wandered forward a few times to investigate her father's large, feathered feet, and I giggled each time she scampered back to me, positively radiant with my joy. Even my worries seemed to have vacated my mind for the time being. My gaze meeting Thor's, he told me that I was just as strong. I tilted my head slightly to one side, considering his words. Perhaps he was right; perhaps I was stronger than even I knew. After all, I had not had a blackout for a while now, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the protective, mothering instincts gathered into that ball of worry in my stomach. Could I really keep it at bay to protect my daughter? Or perhaps it was Thor's influence, perhaps he was the key. Regardless, I was thrilled to have had so much uninterrupted time.

A vaguely familiar call breaks the quiet of the forest, and I struggle to remember where I might have heard it. A golden form dropped through the trees, and I smiled as I recognized my leader's dragon, Akaith. It was a brief moment, but finally I saw a larger form through the canopy, and I realized that this was why Mirage was called the DragonHeart. The noise that I had heard had been dragonsong, and for a moment, I stood in awe. But the moment passed swiftly, and as I wondered how my daughter would react to the beautiful creature that had just disappeared from our view, I turned my head to regard her with warm chocolate eyes. "Essetia," I said softly, a mother's love enveloped in the name. Then my eyes found Thor's again. "She's perfect." I could not keep the glee from my voice, able to relax completely in Thor's presence. "We're perfect," I added, without thinking, and there was a sharp intake of breath as I realized how carelessly I had spoken. I don't know that I had ever made my feelings for him clear in the form of words, though Essetia's creation probably gave him a clue.


"talk"

If love is surrender, then whose war is it anyway?