We are at war. There will be scars.
They are perhaps surprisingly alike, Erebor and Smother, but also impossibly different.They had both raised themselves, but to entirely different effect. For Erebor, raising himself was a choice. He has the use of both parents, whenever he needs them. He can question, he can train, and from time to time he receives praise that he knows means affection. Perhaps he too could feel slighted, not abandoned as she was, but robbed of the love that a mother and a father are meant to provide for a child. Warship and Straia are raising him like a prince, not like a son. But the key thing that differentiates Erebor and Smother is that he would have it no other way.
What she sees as something horrible, he would see as opportunity. Where she is bitter and hardened, he chooses to become a champion. And no, he has not been abandoned – but if he had been, it would be no different.
He hears her moving and his ears flick toward her, his gaze soon following. He sees her catlike approach, her predatory bearing, and he is almost instantly on alert. He is not expecting a fight, not expecting a threat, not afraid – but if she does attempt anything, he'll be ready to fight her off. But he allows her to approach unchallenged, his dark eyes fixed on her, watching, curious to see what she will do. She is looking at him like he is meat, but he is confident in his abilities.
Her tones are condescending, as though she's intending to take her words and drive them deep under his skin. Luckily for him (and unluckily for her) while Erebor has plenty of pride in his home, he has very little pride in himself. He is not easily offended, unless you're going to start offending the Chamber, and so it is not hard for him to let the insults roll off his back. There is no part of him that is disturbed by it; after all, the core of it is even true. He remains young, so young, young enough that most mothers wouldn't be allowing him to wander alone. Thankfully for him, Straia is not most mothers.
He chuckles, low and handsome in his throat. "You don't know my mother." he speaks, his voice carrying just a hint of a smile. "I go where I please." He looks her up and down, as though deliberately appraising – but not gawking, not disrespecting. "Aren't you a little young to be calling me young?" he asks, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, a slight edge to his voice, but no actual malice in it. He notices her curves – he is a stallion after all – but he is a gentleman, a good soldier, and while he can appreciate, he will do no more than that. He is remarkably strong willed, and has a remarkable ability to compartmentalize and focus. Could she use it to her advantage? Perhaps. But it would take a bit of effort.
Erebor won't kill all games, Smother, but he isn't likely to play by your rules. So game, set, match – let's play.
Erebor
Native Prince of the Chamber
warship x straia