The black fae, now mother of a little black foal, walked slowly into the land, her dark head high. She hated the feeling of being a prisoner, being a slave, but she knew she didn't have much choice right then and there. A certain, annoying spy of Exile's, named Medarmeth, had seen her and made sure she 'got back to her home, safe and sound.' As if this pit were her home. No, her home was wonderfully hot and bright, with a brilliant sun each morn.
"Honoré-Aurore, this is your sire's home." she said, nuzzling the little black body beside her.
The black hellion colt looked up at her, his deep red eyes shining with fire, his entire body covered with black flames, including his wings, which were covered in fiery feathers, their perfect tips shining with the brightest flames.
"Mommy, what's he like?" asked Honoré-Aurore, his dark head touching her front leg.
"He's not particularly nice, my sweet. In fact, he's stupid, mean, and generally an idiot. But don't you call him that. He's too stupid to realize that he shouldn't hurt you. He'll hurt you very much if you say that." she said, sighing a bit.
"But... Then why did you come back?" asked the black, winged colt.
"Because, sometimes stallions don't know best, and Medarmeth thought we'd be happy here, because we're hellion."
"What do flames have to do with it?" asked her little son, his dark eyes flaring a bit, angry.
"Nothing, Nothing... It's just sometimes, others forget that."
A cruel laugh floated from behind them, his red eyes danced with cruel amusement. "So nice to hear what you think of me dear," he cooed coming up behind her and sinking his sharp teeth into her black hide, dragging them across her scarring flesh. Before to long, there wouldn't be much left. The eyes dropped to his first son, a smirk growing. "It seems you can at least do something right," he said, head lowering and locking eyes with the colt. "I," he paused for effect "am your father. I do not care for anything about you until you prove your worth." He eyed the bleeding fae with distaste. "She, under my careful eye, shall look after you until her next foal is born," he said a smirk growing in place "and you shall be called One, until you are knocked from your place."
I looked up at the stallion, my ears flicking back a bit. "My name is Honoré-Aurore. I'm called Honoré-Aurore. Why should I be called one? That is something one can take, my name can never be stolen from me." I replied, my tongue quick, before I remembered what my mother had told me. I flicked my head back, snorting slightly.
"What if I don't care for anything about you either? Does that change anything? Or are you going to hurt me like you hurt her?" it was a bit of challenge, a bit of actual curiosity, and all insolence on the my part. I looked at my sire, the tall black winged stag, my deep red eyes glimmering. I felt like hurting him. He hurt mommy, and I wanted to make him taste his own medicine. "You can call me One, but don't expect me to listen."
"Silence, young one," said mommy suddenly, shaking her head slightly at me. I snorted angrily, and shook my head back, but obeyed my harks laid flat against my ebony, flaming skull, my teeth showing a bit as I looked at Demtrius, my red eyes flaring, turning darker, almost black.