there will be scars, Zoya

[Erebor]

We are at war. There will be scars.

He comes to the meadow late at night, simply because he doesn’t know where else to wander. There is nothing to do, not now that all the kingdom visits have been completed, not now when the field is quiet and the night presses in close around them.

He doesn't mind it, it is like a blanket, something thoroughly comfortable, his element. He travels often at night, blending in with it beautifully. He is black, black as night himself, a creature born of the darkness. And in a sense, he is; he is born of the Chamber, for the Chamber, produced solely to serve her and with no intention of love. Not that he is unloved by his parents; they do not hate him, but they do not love him in the sense of the happy family that goes to the zoo on the weekends. They are more like a military unit.

And this suits him, because he is inherently military.

He stands overlooking the meadow, every inch the cadet. He has a strength of his bearing, a rigidity that makes him even more handsome. He is clean cut, classic, handsome – devastatingly so, now that he's had a little over a year to grow into himself. The wind plays gently with his mane and tail, still short, but not a colt's, not anymore.

It is so quiet out here, he thinks. But he does not move to change that, does not move to break the silence by speaking to anyone, although he knows there are many here with whom he'd like to converse. Instead, he is waiting quietly, and just as he starts moving he notices a mare just before him, closer than he'd like to be without having properly introduced himself.

"My apologies miss, I hope I didn't startle you." his voice is strong, handsome in the darkness. "Are you all right?" he can see her, but he wants to check nonetheless. "I'm Erebor."

Erebor

Native Prince of the Chamber

warship x straia