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lacrymatoryao3 · 1 year ago

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Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 2: September, 1899 (Continued)

[1]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there's smut in this.)

3,315 Words (AO3 Link)

Ana Maria Gardener stood at the counter of the Hoosier cabinet in the kitchen as her son groggily ate his breakfast. She put together his lunch for the school day, wrapping the contents into a tea towel and placing it in a tobacco tin painted and shaped like a wicker picnic basket with a sealed glass bottle of milk.

Her son sighed and stood up, taking his plate to the sink, “How much longer do I have to do this again?”

“Do what? Go to school?” Ana replied in Spanish, “Well, you just turned 10. I’d like you to stay in until the term ends after you turn 13. I think you’ll be enough of a man by then to take over some of my responsibilities.”

The young boy turned and looked at her. She reached over and smoothed his straight, raven black hair and continued with a more gentle tone, “So, I’m afraid you have another 3 years.”

He rolled his eyes. They were striking for a child of his ethnicity, especially compared to his mother’s deep brown ones, bright and soulful ocean blue. They cut through anyone he gazed upon, almost glowing in contrast with his light tanned skin.

The grandfather clock chimed eight times. Ana handed her son a balled up bundle of mint, thyme, and basil to clean his mouth and teeth. He dutifully put it into his mouth, chewing it as she followed him into the living room for his coat and hat and out onto the porch of the house where she handed him his lunch and books. He leaned over the railing and spit the concoction out when they became tasteless, sauntering down the stairs to the barn.

Ana wrapped the wool shawl over her shoulders tighter for extra warmth. She looked at the overcast sky above Cain Valley and the rocky peaks of the Bear Mountains. Autumn had not even officially arrived yet, and the snow was already threatening. She frowned. Even after so long her Mexican blood hated the cold. It made her long for Guadalajara, the birthplace she hadn’t seen since she was a child.

Her son came back to the house riding on top of Josefina, a patient dark brown and white Tobiano patterned American Paint mare. Behind them he was leading Enrique, an old a trusty Appaloosa stallion with a coat of white with black Dalmatian spots. Ana had taught him well, the boy was so gentle and patient with them. It made him more experienced than others his age. In those moments, Ana allowed herself to think of his father.

Ana hitched Enrique to the post in front of the house. He reached up to her son, who leaned down and let her kiss him on the forehead.

“No fights!” She said firmly, “I do not need another letter from Miss Svensson about it!”

The boy nodded, but she knew by the look in his eyes he wasn’t going to promise anything he couldn’t keep, “Si, Mama. See you later.”

“I love you!” She called as he rode away to meet with the other children waiting at the main gate of the property.

“Love you too!” He replied.

The group wandered out of sight as the stage coach arrived, dropping off new visitors to the hotel she owned and picking up the old ones waiting on the porch. They were a diverse bunch, around similar ages give or take a few years. Some were Chinese from Mr. and Mrs. Liang, some were Irish from Mr. and Mrs. O’Hogan, a couple were black from Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, and hers half-Mexican. Despite their presence in the town for many years, and most accepting and welcoming of them, there were still ones who were not. That extended to their own children. It was no wonder her son, strong in his convictions, ended up getting into schoolyard brawls. Another thing of his father’s she saw in him, that she couldn’t curtail no matter how hard she tried.

She walked across the curved brick driveway to the inn on her property. Through a back door she entered a small office. She sat down at the desk, opening a time book sitting on the surface. She scanned through the names, noting the days and times they worked. Very rarely did the team she had miss days, or not fulfill the 8 to 10 hours she asked of them, without her knowing beforehand. She mentally totaled the pay for them. She went into the drawer and took out the stack of paychecks. She pulled out six of them and filled them out one after another, adding the same information each time with the exception of the names they were for.

She got up with the paychecks in hand, taking a satchel off a hook and putting them inside it before slinging it over her shoulder and across her chest so it rested on her hip opposite. She went to a safe hidden in a cabinet below a bookcase, entering the combination to open it. Inside was the money the inn made the past two weeks. She quickly counted it, first the bank notes and second the coins - $300.76 in total - before she put them in the satchel as well. She also grabbed a gun belt with a loaded revolver, buckling it around her waist under the bag.

Ana returned to Enrique at the her house, who was idly munching on some grass along the path as far has his tether could allow him to reach. She unhitched him and mounted him sidesaddle. She scratched him behind the ears, the horse making an unbothered huff as she guided him onto the main street to the general store a short ride away.

The general store was always busy, however the crowd always cleared the counter when Ana arrived. She politely greeted them, scanning for any unfamiliar faces who might cause trouble with the business she needed to attend to.

Behind the counter was a Mr. Latini. He was a scrawny man who always wore thick, round glasses and sported a mustache almost too big for his face. He had been the proprietor of the store, like his father before him, and shared 50/50 ownership with Ana since her husband passed on his businesses to her. It was something he was never thrilled with. She could always see it in his eyes when she came in for her half of the profits. For what reason she was never sure, perhaps because she was a woman, or because she was Mexican, or both, but he was smart enough to never debate about it. They both made out well in the end. She was never unkind or unfair, so they simply made their pleasantries and he gave her the money - $591.04 this time around. She nodded, put it in her bag, and got back on her horse.

The Farmer’s Bank of Cain Valley was the grandest building in the town. It was an ornate two story Neoclassical styled with large windows. Inside it was just as fancy with its carved wood paneling and accents and chessboard marble floor. It wasn’t busy yet, Ana being able to walk right up to one of the teller’s windows.

She took out the money and paychecks, sliding them to the teller, “I’d like to deposit the money and get these notarized to distribute.”

The teller gave her a slip and a pencil to fill out while he placed the proper stamps on the checks to make them exchangeable. They traded the pieces of paper and the teller took the money, recounting it at lighting speed to make sure he had the right amount. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a receipt.

“Thank you.” Ana said, putting them in her bag and departing.

The sky had cleared when she trotted back to her property on Enrique, the sky a vivid light blue and the sun warming the area a bit more. On payday Ana felt like she was on a grand tour of some sort. She would go into the blacksmith’s, paying to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. She would go to the stable, putting Enrique in the paddock and paying Mr. and Mrs. O’Hogan, despite the fact Mrs. O’Hogan’s work was limited due to how pregnant she was. Her last stop was back to the inn, going through the main entrance to pay Mrs. Liang, who would hold onto her husband’s for when he returned in the evening. Ana took her satchel and gun belt back into the office.

Between the house and the inn Ana picked some bundles of herbs in the large garden, some for cooking and some medicinal. She carried them inside, walking through the floral wallpapered hallway to the kitchen. She hung them over the oven range nestled in the old renovated hearth to dry. She pulled out some small logs from under the oven, placing them into the firebox. She filled a kettle with water from a pump attached to the dry sink and placed it onto the stove.

She brewed tea, sitting at a secretary desk in the living room. She filled out a ledger book to keep track of everything she did that day, then moved on to reading the September issue of Good Housekeeping. There was once a time she believed reading those ladies’ magazines would teach her how to be a proper, honest woman. Now it often reminded her that most of the men and women who wrote for them were rich and metropolitan, out of touch and no understanding of how most people lived or raised their children. Damn Easterners.

Mr. Liang drove in a few hours earlier than expected, surprising Ana to see the wagon pull up in front of the living room’s large bay window. He jumped from the driver’s seat and raced up the stairs to the porch. He knocked on the front door rapidly, not stopping until Ana answered.

Liang bowed, “Madam Ana! Sorry to bother, but something important came up as I was return.”

Ana’s brow furrowed, “Is everything all right, Mr. Liang?”

“Came across man at Bacchus.” Liang began to explain, “He in back. He not good shape. Seem very sick. It came and go during ride, but I thought you could be help.”

Ana nodded and followed Liang to the wagon. Liang climbed into the back of the covered bed, hearing him say something to the man. The stranger grunted and replied.

His voice… Could it -? No. Ana knew that wasn’t possible. She swallowed that hope, waiting for Liang and the stranger to emerge.

Liang guided him out with the stranger’s arm around his shoulder. Liang told him where to step and had him sit down on the platform that doubled as a seat, letting him catch is horrible sounding breath. Ana’s eyes widened. A rush of disbelief washed over her, so intense it made her light headed. She stumbled backward, grabbing the stair railing to steady herself.

“You all right, Madam Ana?” Liang asked. Ana wasn’t able to form the words to reply, still staring at the stranger. He finally looked at her. His eyes were still the deep and soulful pools of ocean blue she remembered, but their clear sparkle gone. They were glassy and graying, bloodshot and sunken. Their life replaced by a painful sorrow.

He squinted in vague recognition, “…Anie?”

Anie… She hadn’t heard that in so long… His voice was still the same deep and warm baritone, but more rugged and raspy with age. It subsided the shock. She went over to him, sitting next to him and almost collapsing in the seat. She reached out, almost expecting the figure before her to disappear in an instant until her hands rested on his cheeks. She took in his face. He was older now, as was she, but the lines from the rough life he had led suited him more than it did her much softer ones. He had a few more scars than just the one on his chin that she remembered. She could tell his nose had been broken many more times. There was also the pitiful things. His features were gaunt. Under the deep purple and yellow bruises he was so pale, except for his cheeks and lips which were a feverish blush which burned under her fingertips. His beard had traces of both old and fresh blood trapped in the hairs. Above it all, he was there before her. After so long, she had him in her grasp again.

“Arthur…” Ana whispered, holding back tears, “It’s you… Dear God, it’s you…”

He nodded weakly, “Yeah. It’s me.”

Ana embraced Arthur tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. He felt so thin and fragile. His proud and strong, broad body withered away.

“You shouldn’t be this close to me, Anie,” Arthur said, “I’m real sick.”

Ana nodded. She let him go and turned to Liang, “Mr. Liang, could you go into the house and prepare the sick room? Afterwards I need you to fetch Dr. Anderson to take a look at him.”

Liang bowed, “Yes Madam.”

Ana put her attention back on Arthur. She took the shawl off her shoulders and wrapped it around his.

She sighed and shook her head, “You look like shit.”

Arthur remembered how blunt she could be, especially in her accent. He was unable to keep himself laughing, “I feel like shit.”

Ana helped Arthur stand. She led him into the inn, keeping her hand on his back. It felt nice for Arthur to be inside, warmed by the fire that crackled in the lobby.

“Mrs. Liang!” Ana called.

A small Chinese woman appeared from a hallway holding a stack of clean towels, “Yes, Madam Ana?”

“Are any of the bath rooms available? This gentleman here badly needs one.”

Mrs. Liang handed Ana some of the towels and a white nightshirt, “I just do up them all. Everything ready.”

Ana thanked Mrs. Liang and led Arthur down the hall. She chose one of the bigger baths. Despite how thin Arthur had become, he was still a rather large man. She didn’t think to ask, maybe she probably should have, but she was more focused on the task. She took the shawl off him first, then started for the closures of his suspenders to remove them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Arthur remarked, putting his hands up to stop her, “What’re you doin?”

Ana put her hands on her hips and raised a thick, dark eyebrow, “What do you mean? You’re filthy. You clothes are filthy.”

“Yeah… But… Y’know…”

“Arthur, we have seen each other naked. It’s been a long time, but still. There’s no need for false modesty. Especially in your condition. I need to see how bad it is.”

Arthur relented. He knew she was stubborn when she was determined about something. At least, she was when she was younger. He just wished it wasn’t stripping him bare. She continued with his suspenders, throwing everything on a mirrored vanity. She moved on to the black bandanna he had tied around his neck, the one he used as a mask during robberies, then to his shirt. Ana made a remark about it, surprised it was still in one piece. He tried to recall if he had it that long, the beaten light blue shirt with dark blue double pinstripes. He had to agree it had seen better days, showing its wear and tear with stains of various substances and origins permanently soaked into the fabric.

“Hold still.” Ana ordered. She circled around him, inspecting every inch of his torso. His chest and stomach were deeply bruised like his face. She traced her fingers along the lines of his ribs, finding fractures that had begun to heal. He had a fresh scar on his left shoulder, still a light shade of pink. His condition heightened her worry. He was so underweight he was nearly a skeleton.

Her voice broke, “Oh, Arthur… What happened to you?”

Arthur winced, “Tuberculosis happened to me, Anie. And a man who ain’t even worth givin’ a name to.”

“Consumption…” Ana exhaled. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, trying to gather her thoughts. He was right. If it was that disease, he was sick, and there was very little to do about it.

“Then I guess you came to the right place.” Ana added. She tapped him chest, motioning to sit on a stool next to the bathtub. She pulled the boots off his feet, and helped him take off his pants. Like a mother, she instructed him to get in the tub.

The steaming hot water felt good on Arthur’s infirm body, scented by lavender and rose oil. He laid back with a hum, watching Ana wander around the room to get things. She put a large bath sponge and a bar of Castile soap on the tray over the tub, going to the vanity and producing a shaving kit and a pair of scissors. She sharpened the razor blade before sitting down on the stool, dipping the shaving brush into the foamy cream and painting his beard with it. As she was with other blades Ana handled the razor well, carefully but quickly taking the hair off his jaw starting from below his right ear and ending below his left. She dipped the razor in the water to wash it off and dried it. She wiped the rest of the shaving cream off Arthur’s face with a washcloth that was warmed on top of the pot bellied stove in the room.

Ana smiled and rubbed the scar on Arthur’s chin, “There you are! There’s the handsome man I knew.”

“I’m gonna have to disagree with you,” Arthur chuckled, “ain’t nothin’ handsome ‘bout me.”

Ana made a sour expression and then rolled her eyes. She dipped the bristles of a hairbrush into the water. She started working on his hair, which had grown long and fell down his neck. She brushed it until whatever trapped in his locks had been removed and it shone with golden tones of polished copper. They didn’t speak for a while as Ana focused on cutting his hair. She wasn’t a barber by any means, but trimmed it to a normal length for a man and keeping it a little bit longer on top. She gave it one last douse before parting it on his right side.

Arthur was the one to break the silence, “Madam, huh?”

“Only the Liangs call me that.” Ana replied as she moved on to washing his body, “It has something to do with their culture putting an importance on honorifics. The Chinese have a very specific view on courtesy.”

“I guess. Jus’ sounds weird is all.” Arthur said, hissing through the ache when she went over a bruise, “How long you been here anyway, Anie?”

“Ten years. I ended up here after…” Ana trailed off.

He looked at her and nodded, “I understand.”

“I was fortunate somehow.” Ana continued, “I got married. I had a baby. My husband died. I got left with this business of his. My son is t-… Nine now.”

“At least one of us figured out how to live honest.”

“It wasn’t easy, Arthur. In fact, it was almost unbearable for a couple of years. When you spend all your life on the run, doing whatever you needed to do to survive in spite of any law. Ending up on the other side of it, your instincts still remain.”

Ana assisted Arthur out of the tub. She wrapped him in the warm towels and helped him dry off. He put on the knee length white cotton nightshirt and a pair of matching slippers. After all of what he bad been through, he had to admit it was nice to be clean.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 posting #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 community #red dead 2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan rdr2

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t4tharuspex · 3 years ago

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house of mirrors

2.5k word mlp fanfic. dont judge me >.>

summary: rarity and twilights visit to the crystal empire is more eventful then either had hoped. somethings wrong with the castle, and more importantly, somethings wrong with shining armor...

content warnings: fear of transphobia (no actual rtansphobia bc this is the colorful horses show)

Rarity held back a whinny of delight as she trotted off the train and into the crystal empire station. Everywhere she looked she was dazzled by gleaming crystals of every color refracting rainbows on every surface while somehow remaining the farthest thing from gaudy. Starting to feel faint from excitement, she leaned on twilight's shoulder as her eyes fluttered.

“Rarity come on!” The alicorn laughed as she helped her friend upright. “We’ve hardly been in the empire for a minute! Save your fainting for the ceremony.”

The white horse perked up immediately at the reminder of what she had come here for: she was to assist Cadence and Shining Armor in the preparations for the newborn princesses presentation to the public! She cantered in place with excitement, lifting twilight's luggage with her magic and running off to their suite in the castle with twilight hot on her heels.

The suite was spacious with generous decor in simple light colors. the main focal point of the suite was the giant bay windows which cast giant swathes of warm light across the room. upon closer inspection rarity was amazed to discover that the windows were made entirely of cut crystal rather than glass. the faint color of the gemstone created a slight cast on the light coming in, giving a view of the city below that was ever so slightly tinted. this realization recontextualized the furnishing in rarities mind: it wasn't dull and plain, but simply a blank canvas for whatever the crystal windows brought in. a strange method of decor indeed. or was it a response to the material conditions of living in a house of crystal?

When the two had almost settled into their apartment, they were startled from their rest by a brisk knock at the door.

“A summons for princess twilight sparkle,” a booming voice called from behind the door. “You are needed urgently by princess mi amore cadenza for matters concerning his highness the prince.”

Worry flooded the purple alicorns features. “Urgent? Then I guess I had better go now.” She magically gathered a few items into her saddlebag and gave a parting smile to her friend as she was rushed away by royal guards.

Shocked by the suddenness of it all, rarity let out a chuff and sat squarely on her quarters. Was shining armor alright? she wanted to put her anxieties to rest, but it was plainly obvious that she hadn't been invited. would the entire trip to the empire consist of her sitting alone in her room while twilight attended to all matters of actual importance?

Trying to shake the thought from her head, rarity got up and left her room to explore the castle. It truly was extravagant, with pillars of crystal stretching to the high vaulted ceilings spreading refractions of glittering iridescence that made the whole space seem somehow both extraordinary glamorous and warm and homey. Inspiration flooded her mind as she trotted the decadently decorated halls. She just couldn’t wait to get back to her studio and put this inspiration to good use.

She was halted in her exploration when her ears picked up familiar voices talking from behind an ajar door. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help but listen in...

"-i don't know what to do twilight, he hadn't seemed this off for years, and now flurry is here and hes completely absent!"

"i don't know cadence, he hasn't said anything in his letters-"

“- all I’m saying is maybe you could get through to him! He won’t talk to me, or anypony else here. you're my last hope. maybe hell listen to his best friend”

“i've never been able to help him in one of these episodes before. if he’s not ready to talk then confronting him will only make him more defensive.”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take. I’m worried for my husband twilight.” Rarity leaned on the door to hear better as the princesses voice dropped, “please, if not for shining armor, or for me, then for flurry heart. She deserves to have a father who can dedicate himself to her, not one who’s so preoccupied that he can hardly look after her.”

There was a sigh, then rarity heard twilight speak “very well. I’ll do this for her. Maybe that will get through to my brother.”

Sudden approaching hoofsteps started rarity out of her reverie. She stumbled backwards just in time to miss the swinging door as twilight entered the hall. “Rarity? I thought you were still in the room? Oh well, I need your help anyway." She looked over her shoulder as if to make sure they were alone. "I think somethings wrong with my brother. It's possible that one of the unreformed changelings has taken his place to try too take advantage of the upcoming love boom from flurry hearts royal presentation."

Rarity was taken aback by her friends leap of logic. "Doesn't that seem like an extreme suspicion? Having a baby is stressful enough for normal ponies, I cant imagine what kind of pressure would be on a royal prince."

"I don't know rarity, after what happened at the wedding we can't be too careful. I hope its just nerves and parental stress, but we have to expect the worse if we want to be prepared to handle it."

rarity nodded. "alright, then let's find your brother."

The two ponies galloped down the halls in search of the princes chambers. the crystal walls seemed to burn with energy, the warm cast of light from earlier having turned harsh and almost too bright. rarity wondered absently if this was a product of the changing time of day or a trick of the mind. could the walls of a castle really know how somepony felt, and shine it back at them like a diamond mirror?

a distant commotion pricked the two mares ears. "this way!" twilight called as she rounded a corner, dashing after the sound with rarity at her side.

the two skidded to a stop when they reached an open doorway from which the sound seemed to emit. with a flick of her ear twilight motioned for rarity to follow her and the two cautiously made their way into the room. twilight emitted a small light from her horn, then lit the rooms lamp once she could find it on the wall. with the room lit rarity immediately got an impression of drabness and depression, the tightly draped windows letting in no light and the gemstone walls shining the same dim echo back and forth across the space, almost seeming to beg for the light to go out again.

twilight gestured with her chin to the curtained bed at the center of the room, grabbing one edge of the curtain with her magic and indicating for rarity to take hold of the other. once the unicorn had secured the curtain, twilight gave a sharp nod and both ponies tugged their curtain aside, revealing a stallion-sized lump that spectacularly failed to live up to either mares fearful imagination.

the blue-maned unicorn sat up at once, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. he seemed to calm down slightly when he recognized his sister, but he remained guarded. "twily? rarity? what are you two doing in my private chambers?"

"well to be fair," rarity gestured back at the entrance, "you did leave your door open."

"cadence must have done that when she left." shining armor gruffed. "that doesn't answer my question though: what are you doing here?"

twilight stepped forward with a cautious expression, ready to fight if this really was a changeling. "were just here to check up on you, see how youre handling the upcoming princess presentation" it was clear that twilight was being reserved with her supposed brother.

then, shining armors eyes met hers, and her suspicion evaporated. that peculiar sadness that had haunted her brother in her young filliehood, then she had thought he'd escaped when he found happiness in cadences arms, was burning hot tears from shining armors eyes. she had never seen a pain like that before or since. if there was anything twilight was certain of, it was that this pony was the same one she had known her whole life. but the question still lingered, was he the real shining?

completely without her permission, tears began to well in twilight's eyes. "oh shinning, whats happened to you?"

her brother choked on a sob. "I'm sorry twily, you were never supposed to see me like this. no one was. i should be able to hold it together for you... for cadence... for my daughter..."

"shining nopony wants you to hide any part of you! we want to know when you're hurting so we can help. i had thought you'd healed from whatever's causing this pain but it seems to be back and i wont let you hide it from me this time!" the purple alicorn sniffled as tears streaked down her muzzle. "please shining, tell me whats wrong."

The stallion nervously rubbed his hooves together and cast his gaze to the ground. "i don't even know where to start."

"the beginning," twilight proposed. "i want to know everything. you cant heal until you let your wounds be seen."

shining nodded and took a deep breath, "its just that, when you were a fillie, everyone expected me to be the perfect big brother, and i never measured up to that expectation. it was like being thrown into the ocean with no idea how to swim, and everypony kept insisting that i was a fish and i should know how, but i didn't. then in the royal guard it didn't matter how i felt as long as i followed orders and played the role, so that's what i did. i don't know if it actually quieted the pain or just forced me to ignore it, but for a few years i thought maybe i could live with it. cadence was the only pony i've ever met who could make that noise in my brain silent; with her it didn't matter if I wasn't brother enough fro you or stallion enough for the military. i was always enough for her, no questions asked. i was so happy when we got married that i could almost forget about that feeling, telling myself it was a phase i'd outgrown. but now with flurry heart, all that anxiety is back. its like no matter what i do ill never be able to be a good father for her. i love her more than anything, id do anything for her, but it isn't enough. i'm not enough." the white unicorns neck gave way as he succumbed to quiet sobs, his once proud chin quivering and brushing his chest.

"shining... i..." twilight was speechless. what could be said? her brothers pain went far beyond anything she knew how to mend. at that moment being the princess of friendship meant nothing; she couldn't even move herself to speak in the face of her first best friends deep sorrow.

"i hope im not overstepping here," a timid voice chimed in, startling both siblings as rarity cleared her throat. "but i think i may have an idea as to the source and solution of your distress."

"rarity?" shining choked, "how could you possibly know how i feel?"

the mare nervously flicked her mane with an idle hoof. "there's a lot you don't know about me." turning to twilight, she asked "would it be alright if the prince and i could have a moment alone?"

Twilight nodded and bowed out of the room, and the two remaining ponies listened to her hoofbeats echo down and again further down the labyrinthine crystal hallway, which now seemed to glitter coldly like a sterile knife where it once had gleamed so warmly. rarity shivered at the thought of living in a place like this, which could transform before your eyes depending only on ones own emotion. that was, she mused, the property of crystal. it created nothing, only reflecting what was cast onto it. in a dimly lit cave the finest diamond was often mistaken by novices for a common quartz, but at the heart of a kingdom built on a foundation of admiration it gleamed on every surface like the morning dew on a freshly budded rose. this castle wasn't a cold cage or a warm embrace, it was an endless hall of mirrors, each perfectly angled to show you the deepest darkest crevice of your heart.

"i understand why it tortures you to live here." rarity whispered. "each surface gleams to a pristine chrome finish, yet the face it reflects is fundamentally and inconceivably wrong."

shining armor appeared startled, "that's exactly how it feels. how do you know? is it that obvious how miserable i am?

the mare shook her head, "only to those who have felt the same misery. shining armor, i once lived the same life as you, albeit in a much more drab estate. I felt that at every turn i failed at the very task of existing as myself, my relationships suffered because it pained me to view myself as a part of them. mirrors became my enemy because i couldn't face the pony looking back at me. the stallion looking back at me."

a small gasp escaped the taller unicorns lips "what-"

"think about it shining," rarity pleaded shakily, " everything you cant stand to be: brother, father, soldier, prince. they all have one thing in common." tears welled in her eyes and choked her throat "you cant run from it shining. it never stops. you only make yourself more and more miserable. you can cover as many mirrors as you like but eventually you're going to look around and realize that you're still the same pony you hated, standing alone in complete darkness."

something clicked behind the other ponys eyes. "no, it cant be... what about cadence? flurry? twilight? i cant throw all of them away because i have some twisted dream of living as a-"

"-you're not sick shining. maybe a bit different, but there's nothing wrong with you. you'll find that the friends worth keeping don't care at all. they're suffering by watching you suffer; freeing yourself will only free them too."

"i have no idea where to even start though. aren't i a bit too old for this?" shinings eyes were wide and scared.

"i would love to personally see to all the aesthetic changes you wish for, if you'll have me. you really couldn't ask for a more qualified personal stylist. and as for the social shift, you've got the princesses of love and friendship in your corner."

"but that's just it: they're not in my corner. they may as well be on the other side of equestria, or a gaping cavern. how can i even know that they'll still see me as me?"

"i know how scary it is, especially in the early days, but i can personally account for twilights acceptance. and as for cadence, i'm pretty sure they don't go around giving titles like the princess of love to ponies who cant accept others for something so harmless as gender." her smile faded and her face grew a bit serious "i can be there with you if you want. like i said, i know how scary it is." she placed a hoof on top of the other mares own.

She smiled. "I think id like that."

#mlp fanfic #mlp fanfiction #rarity #twilight sparkle #shining armor #princess cadence #mlp trans #trans shining armor #transfem shining armor

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themurphyzone · 3 years ago

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Nova Ch 12

AN: I’ve been waiting to write this chapter for so long! Can you believe it’s been a year since I started this story?

Ch 12: Mare

AO3 Link

Dear Mickey Mouse Calendar,

It’s May 2nd, and you know what that means! Well, besides bringing May flowers of course! The flowers are going to be so beautiful this year, I can tell! Especially once they bring the butterflies and the birds and the bees! Oh dear, do you think Brain knows about the factory in the sky that produces cute little mouse babies? I hope so.

Anyway, the beautiful, lovely, fantabulous Pharfignewton’s gonna be running in the Derby in just a little bit! She’s worked really really hard to get this far, and I’m super proud of her! She’s gonna be one step closer to the Triple Crown when she wins!

Anyway, I’m running out of room on this page, so I just wanted to say I love you, Figgy Pudding! May the best mare win!

Love,

Pinky

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky added a heart by his name with a sparkly pink gel pen and blew a kiss to the image of Mickey and Minnie driving a cute little car into the sunset. Then he recapped the pen, washed his hands of extra glitter, and returned to the TV, which had been tuned into the Kentucky Derby for the past two hours.

They were still conducting pre-race interviews with the owners, jockeys, and trainers. Though there were several saddled horses with colorful numbers in the background, none of them were Pharfignewton.

But they were still very beautiful horses, clopping around on the dirt-covered track as they flicked their ears and tails in anticipation of the race.

Several boxes of leftover pizza and paper plates were laid out in front of the television.. It was so nice of the scientists to throw a pizza party and let them have the leftovers! Pepperoni, mac and cheese, and pineapple pizza were all so delicious, and they tasted even better when all three were combined on a single slice!

Pinky popped a pineapple cube in his mouth, giggling as it stung his tongue. Then he turned to his hat, which laid a short distance away from the leftover pizza so it didn’t get soiled. Lovely, glittery red and purple roses decorated the outside of the hat, and every inch was decked with colorful feathers, encouraging messages, and Pharfignewton’s name so everybody for miles around could see he was rooting for his favorite horse.

Since the hat was too big and heavy for him to wear throughout the pre-race festivities, he decided to just put it on a few minutes before the race instead.

And it was so sweet of Gummy, Madame Daisy, Nicholas, and Mr. Button to support Pharfignewton! They were all gathered in front of the TV so they could watch the Derby too!

Pinky’s ear twitched at a gagging noise on his left, and he turned his head just in time to see Brain spit a chunk of pineapple onto a napkin.

“Of all things, why in Selene’s name would you ruin perfectly good cheese with battery acid?” Brain snapped. He immediately dunked his muzzle into a thimble of water.

“Batteries aren’t a pizza topping,” Pinky said. Did batteries look like pineapples on New Selene? “And pineapple pizza tastes delicious!”

Brain scowled as he shoved the paper plate with his barely touched pineapple pizza slice towards Pinky, then grabbed a new plate and loaded it with two slices of pepperoni.

“I’m outlawing that vile piece of filth you call food as soon as I rule the world,” Brain declared.

“You can’t do that!” Pinky cried. What was next? Declaring pumpkin spice illegal? He would never support such an awful law! “That’s...that’s just unconstitutional! A breach of power! I won’t stand for it, Brain!”

Then he realized he was standing up to grab the pineapple pizza slice, so he promptly sat down and chomped on pineapple, tomato sauce, and bread to prove his point.

Brain wrinkled his nose, but before he could reply, the TV panned to show a beautiful, gray-maned white horse prancing in circles around her jockey, nearly tying him up in her reins.

“That’s her! That’s Pharfignewton!” Pinky yelled, spewing tomato sauce from his mouth. “Hi, Fig! It’s me, Pinky!”

Pinky quickly set his pizza down and slipped the hat on, sitting underneath the brim while the rest of the hat was propped against the counter. He hoped Pharfignewton could see the messages he’d written.

“The cameras aren’t two-way, Pinky,” Brain said, but Pharfignewton whinnied happily, so Pinky knew she could hear him from thousands of miles away!

She wore a beautiful pink cloth over her back with the number fifteen emblazoned in white, with a brown saddle on top. She tossed her head back and whinnied, her reins quivering in the sunlight. Her jockey slipped a pink mask over her face, and when she turned to look at the camera, her gorgeous blue eyes stood out even more.

“You have quite the unusual horse here, Mr. Gardner,” the reporter said to Pharfignewton’s owner, who Pinky recognized by his bushy beard. “Not much of a looker, nor was she sired from any famous line of racehorses. And only one fellow’s bet on her at all.”

Pinky frowned. Not much of a looker? That reporter’s obviously never seen Pharfignewton with the wind flowing through her mane, or the joyful neighs whenever she galloped around a field, or how she practically glowed whenever she ran.

Mr. Gardner leveled a glare at the reporter, who withered from the intense look. “Pharfignewton may have a different build from her fellow racehorses, but she’s a hundred times more passionate about racing than anyone else. It’s true that neither of her parents have competed on the national level, but she’s inherited her mother’s spirit and her father’s diligence, a mixture of traits which will suit her well today.”

“Yes...I’m sure it will,” the reporter muttered. His eyes darted to a chestnut horse with a yellow cloth draped over his back. “Oh, would you look at the time? I don’t believe I’ve gotten a chance to talk with Mayoneighaise’s team yet!”

He scurried off, the cameraman trailing behind him.

A board flashed onscreen, showing the horses’ names and numbers before cutting to commercial.

“Mr. Legs? Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse? Is this entire competition just an excuse to saddle these poor creatures with horrific names?” Brain asked over the noise of a car commercial.

“You can’t saddle a name. You saddle horses, Brain,” Pinky said. Brain could be so confused sometimes.

“And they barely gave Pharfignewton the time of day,” Brain added. “But they dedicated a full fifteen minutes to Arabian Night’s training sessions.”

Pinky shrugged. “Well, Arabian Night worked really hard. He deserved that time. And so does Maximus and Maverick and Black Beauty and Rainbow Dash and-”

“It’s blatant favoritism,” Brain cut in.

The commercial break ended, and the broadcast showed a female reporter approaching an enormous, muscular black stallion with a comically small jockey leading him by the reins. He bore a royal purple cloak with number one written in a fancy golden script on his back. The horse was so dark that Pinky could barely see his eyes or mouth.

“And here we have the clear fan-favorite, Daddy’s Little Angel,” the reporter declared as she carefully approached the horse, who huffed when she got too close to his muzzle. She pulled back, keeping her microphone close to her body. “An excellent track record locally and regionally, highest odds tonight, and a descendant of the famous Triple Crown winner Secretariat. He sure has a lot going for him, don’t you think?”

Daddy’s Little Angel was stoic and handsome, and as his owner and trainer listed off his various accomplishments, Pinky crossed his fingers and toes for good luck. Pharfignewton had a whole lot of competition. Sure, she was the fastest racehorse around these parts, but in the Derby she was a small goldfish in a large aquarium full of other fish.

“Zort! Nope, can’t think like that!” Pinky said, thumping his head with his fist. He didn’t want to have doubts about her talent! She was the best, the swiftest, and the fastest at eating apples and hay! There’s no way she could lose!

“Quiet, Pinky. I’m trying to listen,” Brain said. His pink eyes gleamed with interest as a montage of Daddy’s Little Angel’s previous feats flashed across the screen. “I wouldn’t be opposed to owning a horse like that for ceremonial purposes.”

“Parading around on Pharfignewton sounds lovely,” Pinky sighed dreamily.

He imagined Pharfignewton in a beautiful golden outfit, bells on her reins, and prancing down the street to a cheering crowd while he rode on her back. And there were pretty parade floats and celebrities singing and giant balloons of all his favorite characters!

He was broken out of his fantasy by the sound of a fanfare.

“Attention, all riders and horses! Clear the track and proceed to your stalls! The race will commence shortly!” the announcer declared.

The camera lingered on Daddy’s Little Angel for just a little longer before panning out for a wide shot of the horses and jockeys making their way to the starting point, the trainers leading the horses by the reins and securing them in the stalls.

Fifteen horses dressed in colorful racing garb whinnied and bucked their hind legs in anticipation of the race. Daddy’s Little Angel was in the first stall, the one nearest to the fence. Next to him, a majestic, stout white horse named Maximus took the number two slot. Like Daddy’s Little Angel, he was poised, calm, and determined to win.

Most of the other horses were far more impatient though. Rainbow Dash wouldn’t quit stomping in her stall, and Maverick gave her a warning nip when her tail flicked him one too many times. She didn’t like that at all, and both jockeys fought to get their horses under control.

A cinnamon stallion named Spirit thrashed in his stall, nearly throwing his rider off multiple times while two other people tried to calm him down.

Then they finally showed Pharfignewton. She was in the stall closest to the stands, and while she was penned securely, the workers were all focused on the skittish racehorses.

Pharfignewton flashed a horsey smile to the audience, then lowered her head in anticipation for the race to begin.

Pinky’s fingers, toes, and tail were all crossed. She had to win! This was her dream ever since she was a little filly!

“And they’re off!” the announcer declared as the bell rang and the gates opened. All fifteen horses galloped out of the stalls, kicking up dirt as their hooves thundered against the ground. “Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus off to an early lead! Horsin’ Around’s pulling ahead of Tricky Mickey and...oh! Spirit’s bucked his jockey! That’s gonna cost everyone behind ‘em some time!”

The names and number display at the bottom of the screen shifted around as horses pulled ahead or fell behind.

Pinky’s muscles tensed as Pharfignewton swerved to avoid a riderless Spirit, though Achilles’ Heel was unlucky enough to be caught on a back ankle by a flailing hoof. Pharfignewton fell behind Mr. Legs and Mayoneighase for a split second before increasing her speed and passing them as they reached the first turn.

Pharfignewton was truly in her element! Like a happy, gusty wind spirit!

“YOU CAN DO IT, FIG!” Pinky screamed at the top of his lungs, and there was an angry shushing noise, followed by a parmesan packet smacking the side of his head. “Thanks for the parmesan, Brain!”

“Onto the second turn!” the announcer continued. “Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus neck and neck! Rainbow Dash and Arabian Night fighting for third a mere two lengths away! Maverick trying to squeeze in but there’s no room! Hold onto your fancy hats, folks, this is shaping up to be a wild race!”

Egad, he didn’t want to lose his fancy hat! Pinky clutched the edges with cheese-stained fingers.

“Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus still leading the pack, but trailing them is Black Beauty and Grand Chawhee! Rainbow Dash and Arabian Night have fallen to fifth and sixth! Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse trying for a comeback while Maver-what’s this? Pharfignewton’s clawing her way up from tenth, ninth, eighth, seventh...now she’s passed Rainbow Dash! Ladies and gents, this could be the biggest recovery in the Derby’s history!”

Oh, if only he remembered where he’d placed his cotton ball pom-poms! They’d come in super handy right now!

Black Beauty and Grand Chawhee slowed down on the final turn, enabling Pharfignewton to easily overtake them for third place. Then she poured on the speed, closing in between Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus.

“NARF! GO, PHARFIGNEWTON!” Pinky screeched, his hat tumbling off as he leapt to his feet. If he screamed loud enough, Pharfignewton could hear him all the way in Kentucky! And the power of friendship always worked for last-minute wins! His cartoons were never wrong!

“It’s a straight shot to the finish! Maximus falls back by half a length! Ladies and gents, could this be the greatest upset in horse racing history? It’s Pharfignewton! No, Daddy’s Little Angel pulls ahead! Now Pharfignewton! Daddy’s Little Angel!”

Brain was quiet, but from the twitch of his pointed ears and the way he leaned forward, Pinky knew he was just as invested in the race.

The camera centered on the finish line, but Pinky couldn’t tell who crossed first. Pharfignewton and Daddy’s Little Angel galloped offscreen just as the rest of the pack, led by Maximus, finished after them.

“WHAT’S THIS? PHARFIGNEWTON AND DADDY’S LITTLE ANGEL HAVE CROSSED THE FINISH LINE AT THE SAME TIME! TURNING THE FOOTAGE OVER FOR REVIEW SO WE CAN DECLARE THE WINNER!”

Pinky quickly found that crossing his toes while standing wasn’t the best idea. He fell flat on his face, but quickly pushed himself up on his elbows as the Derby logo flashed by and replayed the last few seconds of the race in slow motion.

Pharfignewton and Daddy’s Little Angel’s legs were just one giant blur next to the finish line, but the reel paused on a shot of Pharfignewton’s flaring nostril crossing the line before Daddy’s Little Angel’s front hooves touched it.

Pinky sucked in his breath.

“PHARFIGNEWTON HAS BEEN DECLARED THE WINNER! CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR VICTORY OVER THE 141ST KENTUCKY DERBY!”

“She did it! She did it! Lo hicimos, she did it!” Pinky jumped for joy, his heart soaring in excitement for Pharfignewton. She was three years old and she’d accomplished so much! He was super duper extra proud of her!

Brain rolled his eyes, but there was a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, it seems all your supportive efforts have paid off.”

Pinky grinned and tore off a cardboard flap of the pizza box, dumped parmesan cheese all over it, and stuffed it into his mouth.

Nothing tasted better than a victory pizza box with parmesan!

“Want some?” Pinky offered a second flap to Brain. “It’s delicious!”

Brain made a gagging noise. “That can’t possibly be good for your digestive system, Pinky.”

Oh well. More for him then!

Pharfignewton’s back was draped with beautiful roses, her team of humans all rushing up and hugging her as journalists bombarded them all with questions and photographers snapped photo after photo of her horsey smile.

Daddy’s Little Angel trotted up to her with a flower crown in his mouth and dropped it onto her head, then drummed the ground steadily with a front hoof in his version of applause. All the other horses followed his lead. Even Spirit and Achilles’ Heel, who were being restrained by a team of trainers, gave their approval. Pharfignewton whinnied in delight, tossing back her head and showing off the beautiful crown.

She really was the best. Pinky clutched his chest, that warm gooshy feeling of love spreading throughout his body.

He couldn’t contain it much longer, and he picked up Brain to let it all out, and he danced around in joy with a squirming Brain in his arms.

“Pinky, I understand that this outcome is most favorable, but I demand that you cease this at once!” Brain complained.

But Pinky barely heard him. He was more interested in what Mr. Gardner had to say.

“Pharfignewton did an amazing job and we’re very proud of her,” Mr. Gardner said as he fed Pharfignewton an apple, which she gladly inhaled. “Running’s in her blood, and I’m sure she’s made her parents very proud in equine heaven. She’s definitely gonna take the Preakness and Belmont by storm.”

“You think she’s capable of gaining Triple Crown status?” the reporter asked.

Pharfignewton neighed loudly in her direction, messing up the reporter’s hair.

As the reporter struggled to fix it, Mr. Gardner smiled. “I think she made it clear that she takes what she wants.”

Two more races for the Triple Crown. Right.

Pinky stopped dancing, an odd but featherlight weight in his arms. In his excitement, he’d forgotten that Pharfignewton had to win the Preakness and Belmont for her dream to come true.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t do it. She was a swift runner and the best racehorse in the world. But she would be gone for several months. All the way on the other side of the country.

And he wanted her to achieve her dream so bad. To rank up there with the great racehorses of old.

“Pinky?” a voice choked.

He was accidentally squishing one of Brain’s antennae. Oops.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky quickly said, putting his friend down.

Instead of stepping away like Pinky expected, Brain remained where he was. Brain was too good at forming unreadable expressions. His pretty pink eyes seemed concerned though.

“This is a momentous occasion, isn’t it?” Brain asked. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Was that Selenian speak for happy?

Yeah, he was supposed to be happy. Pharfignewton won. He was really happy for her. He didn’t want Pharfignewton to think he was a bad friend because he was sad about not seeing her for a while.

“Of course I’m happy for her,” Pinky said. But it was flimsy even to his own mousey ears.

Brain didn’t seem convinced either. One hand awkwardly hovered in the space between them.

A little touch would be nice, and he held super still so Brain wouldn’t get spooked. But a tapping at the window broke Brain’s trance, and upon the sight of a hovering black camera with the Selenian logo on its side, he quickly pulled away.

“Correspondence from Snowball,” Brain said. His ears flattened briefly before returning to their normal position. Maybe he regretted breaking their closeness too. “I’m taking this.”

He wiped his fingers on a wet cloth before unlatching the window. The camera darted in once the window was open, its tripod claws dropping an unmarked envelope into Brain’s hands before flying off into the brilliant evening sky.

Well, it could’ve had pizza if it stayed just a little longer.

Pinky moved behind Brain as he tore open the envelope and unfolded the note inside, which was written in a neat script.

Pickup at seven pm tomorrow. Don’t be late.

-Snowball

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Brain sighed. “I’ll make sure we have everything required for tomorrow night, Pinky.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He only disappeared into a hidden drawer where all their belongings were stored.

The masquerade ball was important. He shouldn’t keep Brain from making sure they saved the invitation so they could get in.

And it would be nice to wear that beautiful dress Sharon picked out.

But there was an ache in his chest. One that gnawed at his heart, and he didn’t want that icky feeling gnawing at his heart. Pinky sat in front of the TV and focused on Pharfignewton’s happiness instead. He pushed away the pizza, the box tasting like cardboard on his tongue.

If she was happy, he was happy. And wasn’t that all he needed?

End AN: So as a little treat I snuck some fictional horse names in here. I mean, obviously you know Pharfignewton as Pinky’s equine girlfriend. Daddy’s Little Angel is the name of the horse Brain rode in the OG Animaniacs episode Jockey for Position.

Grand Chawhee’s name is a reference to All Dogs Go to Heaven. Tricky Mickey comes from the 1978 movie Casey’s Shadow, which I caught my family watching a few weeks ago and I just decided to borrow a name from the movie.

Rainbow Dash from My Little Pony, Maximus from Tangled, Black Beauty from the book of the same name, Spirit from the Dreamworks movie, and Achilles’ Heel is a reference to Phoebus’ horse in Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Mr. Legs’ name provided by Boxy. Thank you, Boxy. Snuck in Pinky actually eating a pizza box for ya lol.

Final placements for the Derby are:

1. Pharfignewton 2. Daddy’s Little Angel 3. Maximus 4. Grand Chawhee 5. Black Beauty 6. Rainbow Dash 7. Arabian Night 8. Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse 9. Mr. Legs 10. Maverick 11. Horsin’ Around 12. Tricky Mickey 13. Mayoneighase 14. Achilles’ Heel (never finished) 15. Spirit (never finished)

Next chapter will finally have the Masquerade Ball and boy do I have plans. It’ll definitely be longer than this one. But this chapter at least wraps up the Derby subplot.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #patb nova

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katehuntington · 4 years ago

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Title: Ride With Me (part twenty one) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5850 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part twenty one: It’s Dean’s turn to make an entrance in the main arena. The rides lead to an interesting business proposal by a new client, but brings a lot of doubt too. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Watching From A Distance - David Ramirez (opening scene) Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @atc74, @manawhaat and @winchest09 for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand.

Ride With Me Masterlist

Saturday morning has started early for the crew of the Gold Canyon Ranch. Before the crack of dawn Benny has mucked out the stables and fed the horses, making sure they had time to digest their pellets before the show starts. Together with Jo, Y/N has hand-walked the animals who are competing today, letting them stretch their legs and graze a bit. She took extra time for Meadow, who always seems to need a moment to adjust to new surroundings. The mare was fresh today, the brisk air only fueling her feisty temper. Her owner couldn’t help but snigger when she lifted her tail and started jogging next to her instead of just strolling along, showing off to anyone who would look at her.

It’s 8 AM when Dean puts his foot in the stirrup of the saddle, swinging his right leg over the back of the Bon Jovi, the light catching the fringe of his chaps. He pulls his hat a little tighter on his head once he’s seated, while the well-behaved stallion waits patiently for his rider to give him an aid, which he does, after adjusting the length of his reins.

With the sun only just peeking from behind the horizon, rays break through the leaves of the trees next to the warmup area, adding to the still peaceful surroundings. The commentator isn’t blaring through the speakers yet, the ring isn’t full of other riders trying to find a spot to train without running into each other. It’s the calm before the storm, a bit of peace and quiet both horse and human appreciate. No distractions, no sensory overload for the inexperienced stallion. It’s the perfect way to introduce him to the element of competition.

Y/N has just finished filling up the water buckets in the stables and rests her arms on the fence of the small arena. She watches Dean slowly start up the beautiful palomino, its coat seemingly made from gold in the morning light. Her boyfriend is wearing clean dark jeans and a navy button up, a black Stetson to match his show outfit. Never will she get tired of watching that man ride, but dressed like he is now, she can’t take her eyes off him. Y/N sighs deeply, swooning at the sight. She really did land the most handsome cowboy in Arizona, didn’t she?

The head wrangler seems composed as ever, not breaking a sweat over having to ride into the ring in thirty minutes, something that she admires and envies all at the same time. She wishes she could feel relaxed right before a test, instead of being the nervous wreck that she usually is. Meadow will not make her entry until later this evening and already Y/N dodged breakfast, well aware that she won’t be able to swallow a bite, stage fright blocking her throat. Just thinking about the premiere of her freestyle makes it slightly harder to breathe, but Dean takes that away when he rides past, breaking his concentration for a second and shooting her a wink and a soft smile. She chuckles as they keep a hold of each other’s gaze for a few seconds as his horse walks by. God, she wishes she has his confidence.

Other competitors join Dean and Bon Jovi in the warm up area, but the stallion only murmurs at a mare once, its rider gently yet strictly reminding him to keep his head in the game. Before they know it, the same voice that did the commentary on last night’s barrel race competition sounds from the amplifiers.

“Good mornin’, folks! It’s another beautiful day here at the Flagstaff Horsefair. We’re getting ready for the first class of the day, the Standlee Forage Reining Competition for four year olds. Highest overall score wins five bags of high quality horse food.”

The commentator continues to promote the sponsors of the event, Dean giving his horse a little scratch on the shoulder when he tenses slightly as the loud voice sounds from the speakers. Aware that it will soon be their turn, the rider allows himself to enjoy the atmosphere as he casts his gaze over the other competitors. He isn’t too worried about the fixture, confident in his own skills and those of his horse.

“Dean Winchester, two minutes!” A steward announces, looking down at his clipboard to double check the line up. The cowboy nods in acknowledgement, directing his gaze to Y/N as he waits for her to catch up. He watches as she puts down the grooming bag next to her on the sandy arena footing, attending to the bell boots that Bon Jovi is still wearing. She unbuckles the leather clasps, putting the leg protection away. “Would you like some water?” she offers. He shakes his head, casually, taking in the arena. “Nah, I’m good.”

Y/N looks up at him, trying to read what he is feeling. To her, it is strange how he doesn’t seem nervous. He’s relaxed, collected; reminding her of the still waters at Canyon Lake, where they swam together for the first time on the trail that changed everything. It is as if he can’t register the pressure that should be resting on his shoulders. Maybe he truly believed he is that good. “Break a leg,” she speaks, fondly. “Don’t wish that upon me, Yankee,” Dean chuckles. “Kinda need them to do my job.” She laughs and pats him lovingly on his denim clad thigh. “I don’t know how you can be so calm.” “Well, I have my good luck charm with me.” He lays his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “C’mere.” She steps closer to Bon Jovi, tiptoeing to reach up while Dean leans over to level with her. His lips brush over hers softly, his nose nuzzling hers in a sweet gesture. She smiles into the gentle kiss. “Go get’em, cowboy.”

The wrangler straightens himself in the saddle, while his girlfriend picks up the groom bag and steps back. He guides his horse into the tunnel under the bleachers towards the arena, concentrating on the gates in front of him, waiting for them to open. The reigns feel smooth between his fingers as he drowns out the noise around him. With his free hand, he encouragingly strokes the side of Bon Jovi’s neck, his pearly white manes contrasting beautifully against his flaxen coat. He has grown accustomed to these kinds of events, his nerves not bothering him anymore. He finds solace in his work, seeing it more as fun than as a chore. He enjoys the challenge the youngsters bring him, from the initial moment of putting on a halter, to getting in a saddle, to showing them all for the very first time. In less than a year, the horses go through such growth, and it’s always a pleasure to be a part of their journey.

“First competitor of the day is Dean Winchester, riding Bon Jovi, a stallion by Renegade. This horse is bred by Victor Hendriksen and owned by the Gold Canyon Ranch in Phoenix, Arizona.”

Y/N watches as the palomino calmly comes through the gate, not batting an eye at his new and impressive surroundings. Submissive and willing, the stallion responds to his rider’s aids when he’s asked to halt. To witness how trustful each and every horse is with the trainer, surfaces some kind of gratification inside of her. The way Dean schools the animals isn’t based on authority or rank, but much more about collaboration and respect. It’s something she admires about him from the get go.

Dean leads Bon Jovi through a precise pattern of figures, spins and stops. Reining is all about the athletic abilities of the horse, and the rider controlling every movement. The horse demonstrates attitude and willingness, while the signals given by the rider are nearly imperceptible. The run is evaluated by a panel of three judges, who mark each pattern individually. In this youngster class, speed isn’t key yet, but correctness is. Every stride must look effortless and relaxed, as if the animal and rider have become one. That’s exactly what is on display in the arena right now.

With a smile of adoration across her face, Y/N leans her forearms on the steel fence, watching the head wrangler. A small crowd that got up at the crack of dawn have occupied the first rows on the bleachers and by the fence, encouraging shouts and whistles rallying the first competitor on. The young horse is so fixed on his rider, that he doesn’t even pick up on the sounds. Bon Jovi isn’t fast in the spins yet, but that’s okay, because his footwork is close to perfect. After three well executed sliding stops, Dean gives the palomino the signal to back up, his spur not even touching the horse’s flank. Submissively, he reverses until his rider drops the reins and rewards the stallion, who blows out a purr through his nose, looking up at the stands curiously when they applaud the performance, much like the commentator.

“Well, if that ain’t setting the bar, I don’t know what is. What a solid ride from Dean Winchester and Bon Jovi!”

While Dean exits the arena, he searches the people along the fence and on the bleachers. He’s looking for Bobby, who he finds on the sidelines. His uncle holds his gaze and gives the head wrangler a nod, telling him so much without using actual words. They haven’t spoken about the elephant in the room yet, today’s pace being far too high to squeeze in the awkward conversation, and so both men have decided for themselves to let it rest. Besides, they might have sold a number of horses yesterday, that doesn’t mean they can lean back now.

The cowboy leads his horse back to the warm up ring, meeting his girlfriend half way. “Good run!” she compliments, taking Bon Jovi’s reins after Dean swings his right leg over the saddle and dismounts. She shoves the water bottle in his hand this time, knowing if she had asked, he would have declined anyway. “I had a little wobble in the second roll back, but yeah, the rest was good.” He twists off the cap and takes a swig, thirstier than he likes to admit.

Since Dean is competing two separate horses in the same class, he’s both first and last to enter the main arena. It’s going to be a race against the clock, and he looks around the warm-up area in search for his next four-legged dance partner. “Where’s Jo? Ringo is up in thirty minutes.” “Better get off your high horse, Mister, otherwise this is the last time I’ll tack up for you,” his cousin replies snappily, appearing from behind with a bay gelding named Ringo Starr in tow. Dean is about to counter her, but he bites his tongue, knowing she’s not kidding and will never do him a favor again if he gives her attitude. And so he mutters a ‘thanks’ under his breath when he takes the Quarterhorse from her.

As swiftly as he got down from Bon Jovi, he now mounts Ringo, the next four year old for him to compete. As he does so, his score is announced over the speakers, but he can’t quite make out the numbers. When he glances at the scoreboard, he’s pleasantly surprised. “218.5 points!” Y/N cries out, delighted. “That’s fantastic!” With a content smirk adorning his features, Dean nods satisfied; that is indeed a good score. Good enough to put Bon Jovi on the podium. Good enough to ask a high price when the buyers come calling. He doesn’t have time to settle on a high cloud, though; he needs to ready Ringo for his run.

Y/N hoists the groombag on her shoulder and takes the kind palomino stallion to exit the warm-up arena. This is her job after all, she might be dating her supervisor, she’s still the intern. They made a deal when she arrived at the ranch that Dean would not treat her differently, so she intends to do the work she’s come here to do. Jo, however, seems to have a different idea, and nudges her. “I’ll take Jovi. You go cheer on your John Wayne.” The blonde cowgirl winks at her friend, taking over the load.

She chuckles, handing the petite blonde the horse. Grateful to be able to see more of Dean’s horsemanship in action, she finds a spot by the fence. The sun steadily rises, casting out what was left of the night’s coolness, the light radiating down on her much warmer and brighter. Wishing she had brought a hat, the cowgirl takes off her jacket and puts it away in the groombag. She watches her boyfriend warm up Ringo, who seems a little bit more nervous, now that the ring is more crowded. His rider does a good job reassuring the young animal, though, giving the bay gelding some light exercises to keep his mind of the commotion around him, rewarding the Quarter every time he shows a sign of relaxation.

“Beautiful day to be buying horses, isn’t it, darling?” Y/N startles at the sudden gruff voice, snapping her head to where the sound came from. The supposedly kind words to start conversation are pronounced with a English accent, by a stranger dressed in black. The rather short man who she guesses would be somewhere in his fifties leans on the steel rail, his fingers laced together while he watches riders in the arena.

“Y - yeah, I suppose so,” Y/N stammers, unsure how to respond. “My apologies, where are my manners.” The man turns to her and offers his hand. “The name is Fergus. Fergus MacLeod.” The cowgirl frowns at his introduction. She has heard of him, but has never met the owner of the MacLeod Studfarms in person. “Y/N Y/L/N,” she returns, slightly hesitant. “Oh, I know who you are. I’m an admirer of your work. You’re quite the talent,” the Englishman admits. “That run at the State Championships was spectacular.”

Slightly creeped out, but not trusting her instincts entirely, she stays quiet for a moment. This is a man of great influence in the business, so she does want to hear what he has to say. “You saw me ride?” she replies. He nods, an amused smirk resting on his thin lips. “I did indeed, love. Talking about talent, that horse is something else as well. Meadowsweet, is her name, isn’t it?” “Yeah...” Y/N returns, somewhat suspicious. “Tell me; are you the owner of that lovely mare? Or are there parents and sponsors involved?”

Her stance becomes a bit more defensive, not just because of the rapid questions that are fired at her, no matter how charming this gentleman is trying to be. No, it’s his assumption that she’s too young to own such a horse that gets to her. “I am the owner, as a matter of fact,” she states, a new found strength in her voice. “Good to know I am talking to the proper person then.” Her company chuckles, apparently pleased by her feisty counter. “Because I have a proposition for you.” Before he can make her an offer, Y/N intervenes. “Meadow isn’t changing owners, if that’s where you’re headed, Mr. MacLeod.” Fergus takes her in, narrowing his eyes slightly, but the pleased little smile remains. “I can make it worth your while.” “I believe you can, but no matter your offer; she’s not for sale,” the cowgirl makes herself clear, a sternness in her voice that should tone the horse trader down. It doesn’t. Instead he chuckles dryly and takes a little booklet out of the inner pocket of his black coat; it’s a cheque book. Not taking no for an answer, he pulls out a pen and writes down his signature. “Everything is for sale, love. All one has to do is pay the right price,” he says, wisely.

Fergus MacLeod rips off the sheet of paper, handing her the cheque. Not wanting to be downright rude, she takes it, staring at the empty line; it’s blank. “You may write down whatever number you seem fit. It’s up to you,” the Brit elaborates. “Now that I’ve got your attention, would you happen to know where I can find Bobby Singer? I would like to have a little chat with my old friend.” “He’s by the main arena.” She points in the direction of the entrance. “Wonderful,” he quips. “It was a pleasure meeting you, darling.”

A shiver runs down her spine as MacLeod walks away to find her boss. She’s highly aware that he is a very influential and important person in the industry, but he has got some nerve. Y/N might look like an innocent and timid girl, but there is no way in hell that she would ever give up Meadow, no matter how large the figure.

She stares at the cheque, crumbling it in her hand before she stuffs it in her pocket, angrily. She has never met someone as brazen as Fergus Macleod at a show before, and she has been to enough to know. But she doesn’t want to waste time and think about the confrontation now. The cowgirl would much rather focus on her wrangler boyfriend who is wowing the judges.

Dean’s run with Ringo Starr is another great one, and with him being the last contestant of the class, the rankings are decided the moment the score comes in. With 215.5 points, he secures the third place, behind another rider and Bon Jovi, who has held on to the lead. An impressive result, one that he knows his uncle is going to be very pleased with.

When the Dean exits the arena, he is met by his girlfriend, who is smiling widely. “You nailed it!” she chirps with enthusiasm. “They did good,” Dean says, rustling Ringo’s black mane, more than satisfied with the performance of both young horses, but not taking the compliment upon himself.

The cowboy gets down from the saddle, noticing that the gelding is tired from all the first impressions and new sensories that come with the first show. Ringo’s coat is damp, a shade darker because of the perspiration; he gave it his all. Intending to hand-walk the horse back to the stables to shower the animal and give him his hay, he strolls to exit the warm-up area, but Bobby stops him. “Dean?” his uncle calls out, beckoning him to come over. Y/N glances up, following Mr. Singer’s voice. Noticing that Fergus MacLeod has found who he claims to be his ‘old friend’, her face falls slightly. She wonders what the Englishman would want, and why Dean has been invited into the conversation. Questionly, she looks back at her boyfriend and takes over Ringo from him, reckoning she should leave since it’s none of her business what will be discussed, but the man in black has different ideas. “Y/N, do join us, and bring the horse as well, love.” The hair on the back of Dean’s neck rises; what did he just call her? Unable to prevent his jaw from clenching, he steps towards the two ranch owners, trying to keep his cool. Who the hell is this dickhead? “That’s Fergus MacLeod,” Y/N whispers, as if she just read his mind. “He’s the founder of some of the largest stud farms in the country and even has stables in Europe. Owns at least two dozen licenced stallions.” The wrangler nods in acknowledgement. Great, some snobby bigshot. Very much aware that this new face might have something to offer Bobby, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Ah, the one and only Dean Winchester,” Fergus’ grins mischievously. “Nice work there in the ring. Your uncle here told me it’s the first time those two horses are competing.” “That’s right,” the cowboy confirms. “Macleod is the name. Pleasure to meet ya.” The Brit extends his hand, which Dean shakes a little firmer than normal. He’s not even sure what he’s trying to accomplish with the display of his own physical strength.

“Fergus here is interested in buying the four year olds,” Bobby explains, apparently noticing his head wrangler’s suppressed hostility, shooting it down with a piercing stare, warningly. Dean’s demeanor changes instantly as he raises his eyebrows. If this horse trader is going to bring the big bucks, he knows he needs to keep himself in check for the sake of the ranch. “Mind if I have a peek?” Macleod asks, gesturing at the horse. “Go ahead.” Dean steps back, making room for him to inspect the horse.

Fergus circles the horse, taking the bay gelding in from several angles. He feels the hindlegs for any swelling or abnormalities and does the same with the front legs, after Y/N has removed the bandages Ringo wore in the ring to prevent any injuries. The horse trader then proceeds to look Ringo in the face and check his teeth. After a satisfied nod the man turns around, straightens his impeccable suit. He then takes a tissue from his breast pocket and wipes his hands. “It’s a fine looking animal you’ve got here, Singer,” he compliments. “You may take the horse away, my dear.” Even though she isn’t fond of the degrading way he is talking to her, Y/N obliges. Taking care of the horses when she’s not riding herself is her job after all. “Oh, and Miss Y/L/N…” She halts the horse next to her and turns around. The Englishman has his hands in his pocket now, twinkling hazel-colored eyes looking her up and down. “Bobby here tells me that you’re a well-educated woman. A master degree in Business & Economics? Impressive. Someone as smart as yourself has to acknowledge that it’s a good deal. I assume you will consider my offer on your horse,” he pauses, more intrigued with every detail he learns about the woman before him. “I would like to point out there’s room for six figures on that cheque. What numbers to fill in, is your choice.”

Dean wants to snap his head at his girlfriend, but keeps his posture. Did this man just offer her several hundred thousand dollars for Meadow? Eyes wide in astonishment, he exchanges a look with his uncle, both trying to keep a straight face. “She’s not for sale,” Y/N makes clear one more time, pronouncing the words slow to prove a point. Amused with her stubbornness, the corner of MacLeod’s mouth twitches upward. Cocky, he holds her gaze, but eventually yields. “Very well, then. Let me know if you change your mind. The offer stands.”

Without responding to Fergus’ tenacious reply, she turns away, nudging Ringo to follow her. The three men watch her leave, Dean knows her well enough to be able to tell that MacLeod has her blood boiling. He’s not surprised Y/N didn’t think twice about shooting the bid down. Meadow means the world to her, more than any amount of money could ever buy. But holy shit. Six figures! Realisation hits him; it would be enough money to save the Ranch.

The Brit who made the generous offer pulls him from his thoughts. “Alright, lads. Let’s talk business, shall we?” The three walk away from the few people that are lining around the warm-up area. A little further down, on a crossing of two paths, they stop. The little square is still quiet at this hour. Safe from lurking eyes and eavesdropping ears, they gather around one high table near a drink stand. Even though it’s a non-serve area, the influential man calls the bartender to take their order. The young guy comes back with a coke for the rider - who still has a run later this afternoon - and two bourbons. Dean didn’t even know they served whiskey at this event, let alone this early.

MacLeod cuts right to the chase. “I will offer you thirty grand for the four year old Quarters, and I will take them off your hands right away.” Dean doesn’t flinch, being in these kinds of conversations before. He can maintain his poker face, no matter how amble the offer. It is a negotiation after all. The owner of the two horses thinks about it for a second, but then comes with a counter. “Forty.” “C’mon, Bobby. Is that how you treat an old friend?” Fergus clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly after which he takes a sip from his drink. “Now, I know times are tough and that you’re experiencing difficulty staying afloat, but do realize I am already doing you a favor here. Thirty thousand dollars is more than fair.”

The head wrangler is taken aback by the Englishman’s comment. How would he know the ranch is struggling? Did people in their close circle spill the beans? Apparently MacLeod spots the unpleasant surprise on the faces of the men opposite of him, because he comments on it without missing a beat. “It’s a small world, lads. People talk. You should know that by now, Singer.” Bobby moves past the comment rather quickly and ponders about the sum. Fergus isn’t wrong; it’s not just a decent offer. It’s a generous one, one he isn’t going to decline. The Englishman across the table knows it too; the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch is desperate for money. “Cash,” he demands, accepting the original offer. The dark haired man strokes his neatly trimmed beard. “I can arrange that.”

The head wrangler might not like the horse trader, but he did just make this weekend ten times better. He gulps down the last of his coke, crumpling the can before he dunks it in the trash on the side of the crossroads. The cowboy figures the deal will be sealed with a handshake before they go separate ways, but MacLeod has a second matter to settle. “I have another proposition for you.” Having their attention, the middle aged Brit observes their reaction, his eyes full of mischief. The two members of the ranch near Phoenix share a look. “We’re listening.” Bobby says.

Fergus swirls his whiskey, studying the amber liquid in his glass. “I own a stallion,” he starts off, putting the drink to his mouth in the short pause. “I bought him at the Derby Quarterhorse Auction for over a million dollars. He’s licensed, one of the best pedigrees I’ve ever seen, not to mention his conformation and movements. He already covered four hundred mares this year. I expect great things from this horse, he is supposed to bring in the money. There is one slight issue, however.” Dean listens, intently, wondering where he is going with this. “And what would that be?”

“The horse has some… behavioral issues,” the stud farm owner claims, careful in his choice of words. “It has quite the temperament, one his former trainers haven’t been able to use in their advantage, my advantage.” Slowly the head wrangler begins to realize why the price MacLeod is willing to pay for the two Quarters is so steep; he is playing a game of give and take. The way the owner of this stallion is talking about money and business, calling the animal ‘it’, doesn’t sit well with him either. Where is the horse’s well-being in all of this?

“What’s his name?” Dean likes to know. Fergus frowns at that, clearly not understanding why it would matter, but he answers anyway. “You might have heard of this horse; his name is Cain.” Dean has heard of the horse. The whopping 1.2 million that was paid for the talented Quarter made headlines in the industry.

“What are these behavioral issues?” he needs to know, not taking the bait just yet. “Typical stallion behavior; dominance is the main problem. The horse has character, what can I say?” MacLeod laughs it off. “Anyway, I am looking for a capable horseman. Someone who can actually break him in.” The owner of the horse in question shifts his penetrating gaze from Bobby to Dean. The cowboy realizes they are at a verge of a possibly very important business deal, but he cannot stop himself from commenting on the peculiar choice of words. “I don’t ‘break in’ horses. I teach them to trust and to cooperate,” he states firmly. “Potato, potahto,” Fergus dismisses. “Are you up for the job, or not?”

Dean exchanges a glance with his uncle, a silent conversation happening between them, only possible by years and years of working together. When Bobby rights himself, he has a crucial question. “What’s in it for us?” Again that small smile on the Englishman’s face; he knows he’s close to persuading them.

“A thousand dollars each month, paid in advance, and a fifty grand bonus when Cain successfully completes the stallion performance tests in April. Plus, five percent of his earnings in coverage for the coming year. After he passes the exams, we can set up a contract in order for you to remain his permanent rider,” MacLeod sums up.

Bobby analyzes the offer. It’s tempting in many aspects. Fergus just mentioned that the stallion already covered four hundred mares this year. With his stud-fee being at least a thousand dollars, they are looking at twenty grand cut already. Then there’s the regular income, not to mention the bonus. This deal might be the lifeline his family business was frantically fishing for. It’s up to Dean, though. He is the one who is going to work with this horse, and the only one who can make an educated guess if it’s achievable in five months' time.

“We would like to see Cain first,” Bobby decides, wanting to offer his head wrangler a moment to evaluate the animal. “I’m afraid that will not be possible at this time, but I tell you what.” The Brit finishes his bourbon, setting the glass down on the high table. “The horse will be delivered to your property and you will have a week to decide if you want to take on this job. If not, no hard feelings.”

Dean glances aside, spotting the slight nod of his uncle. Seems like they can’t go wrong here; if Cain turns out to be more difficult than Fergus leads on, they can always send him back. “You got yourself a deal,” Bobby concludes, extending his hand to the man in black. “Splendid.” The horse trader smirks, delighted with the arrangement they agreed on, shaking their hands. When he grips Dean’s hand tight, he looks him deep in the eye, as if he recognizes something in the handsome cowboy.

“You’re John’s boy, aren’t ya?” he realizes. “I bought a couple of horses from that Winchester back in the day. How is he?” Tension grips Dean’s body, the sound of his father’s name on Macleod’s tongue sending a shiver down his limbs. He tries to breathe in without it being too obvious, finding it difficult to keep his mask on. “I wouldn’t know,” he answers curtly.

Fergus furrows his brow at that, clearly curious as of why the two aren’t in touch anymore. He allows a silence to linger between them, their handshake holding on to the apprehensiveness. “Hmm,” he responds at the peculiar answer. “Well, you are just like your father. I could’ve sworn it was him when I saw you in the arena earlier; spitting image. You have his ways.”

It’s like MacLeod is deliberately trying to get under his skin, and no matter how hard the young cowboy fights it, the man he’s making a deal with is succeeding. The words spoken with that distinct English accent ring in his head, much louder than they were pronounced, cracking like a whip on his back. You are just like your father. You have his ways.

Dean releases the stallion owner’s hand, quickly slipping his into the back pockets of his jeans, drying his clammy palms on the denim. He hopes neither of the men in his company notice him shaking. He inhales through his nose, squares his shoulders and stands tall, pushing down the anxiousness that is stirring in his stomach. Disappointed in himself, he chews on the inside of his cheek in search for distraction. He can’t let a simple comment get to him like this.

Now that he has shut down the attitude the ranch hand was giving him, the Englishman looks down on Dean with a sinister smile on his lips. He keeps a hold of the Winchester’s gaze, until he averts his green eyes. Only then MacLeod steps away. “We’ll stay in touch. I’ll have my men pick up the two Quarters this afternoon,” Fergus announces, his long, dark overcoat swaying slightly as he turns around once more. “A pleasure doing business with ya.”

With those words, MacLeod walks away and leaves the two men in the middle of the square. The sun is suddenly uncomfortably warm to Dean. He sniffs and takes a few steps from his uncle, as if the two or three strides would actually be enough to walk it off. He places his hands in his side and dips his hat forward when he faces Bobby again, making sure the older man can’t sense how unsettled he is. But Bobby is no fool. He knows his nephew better than the boy’s own father did, and that’s exactly what’s bothering Dean.

“You alright?” he checks. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Dean returns just a little too rapidly, shrugging it off. “Just…” His uncle is careful not to address the subject directly, yet at the same time he needs to offer the opportunity for the wrangler to vent. “With what he said about John--” “Don’t.”

The simple word comes out harsher than he meant it to leave his lips, the darkness in his eyes when he shoots his father-figure a glare soon replaced by regret. Dean knows Bobby is trying, like he and Ellen have for the past fifteen years. But no matter how much time passes, he can’t bring himself to talk about what happened in the past.

His uncle isn’t mad, nor is he disappointed in his surrogate son. He just nods slowly at the dismissal, before he begins to make his way to the stables. Dean remains in the middle of the crossing, his hands still firm on his hips, closing his eyes for a moment as he breathes out. The deal they just made should bring much needed relief, but the meeting leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He gathers himself and follows after his Bobby. They have more showings to prepare for, but nothing can cast out the words spoken by Fergus MacLeod. Not the rhythmic thumping of hooves in the dirt, not the chatter and laughs produced by the growing crowd, nor the music that comes from the main arena. All he can register is the painful message, which reopens the deep scars on his heart every time they bounce off the walls inside his head.

I am just like my father.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty two here

#Ride With Me #Cowboy!Dean x Reader #Cowboy!Dean series #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester AU #Supernatural AU #Dean fanfiction #Supernatural fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #Dean angst #Dean fluff #Dean x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester #Jo Harvelle #Bobby Singer #Ellen Harvelle #Benny Lafitte #Kate Huntington

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

Text

Male orc x male reader (1st person) sfw

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This was posted, completely unedited and hot off the keyboard, to Patreon at the beginning of June. It’s first person for a change, but male perspective.

Reader is the crown prince of a high fantasy kingdom, who was never expected to become king. His older brother was killed in action when he was 13 and he suddenly found himself shifting from the role of scholar to the role of soldier, a role for which the king things him ill-suited. It opens with him at aged fifteen, first meeting the orcish son of a local war chief, who accompanies his mother to the castle for peace talks with the king. Vilugh is about ten years older than the reader. The reader doesn't have it easy, and is extremely lonely, as I would imagine a lot of royals and people with important families would be, beneath all those expectations and responsibilities.

Hope you like it - I have more written and more I want to do with it. I know it's orcs, which isn't very non-humanoid (Patreon folks said they wanted more non-humanoid monsters), but I really enjoyed going with the inspiration for this one and was excited to share it with you first. Sorry for any mistakes - as I said, it's still mostly unedited.

(The orc’s name is pronounced ‘vee-lug’)

I was fifteen the first time I saw Vilugh, and my jaw dropped the moment he entered the castle bailey beside his mother. They both rode enormous war boars with tusks and ears as decorated as their orcish riders, and his mother’s had a great, spiked chain that dangled between them.

The War Chief swung down from her mount, landing light as a sabre cat in the rocky outcrops beyond the castle, though the myriad ornaments adorning her head gear and garlanded around her neck jangled and clinked. The blade of her double-headed axe flashed silently in the holster across her back. Bone and steel, ivory and gold flashed in the sun. Beside her, astride a colossal, russet boar with a great bristle-back mane and flashing, mismatching eyes, rode her eldest son. The orc was huge, even for young adult. With orcs and humans ageing at about the same rate, he had to have been in his mid twenties, in the absolute prime of life, and I was awestruck by his presence.

Silent, built like a bulwark, and with eyes that took in everything and revealed nothing, Vilugh glared around the courtyard. While many orc’s eyes were light as amber, his were a deep, colourless black from that distance, and I licked my lips as my heart rate shot up like a winter solstice arrow into the sky. He stared straight at me, unmoving. Evaluating me, with my scrawny arms and less than impressive physique, no doubt. He quickly dismissed me, assuming I was some kind of page boy, no doubt. His surprise when I was formally introduced to them later as the Crown Prince was certainly enough to draw a tiny, knowing smile from my lips.

They were here to begin peace talks, and, to everyone’s surprise, they went astonishingly smoothly. Few humans made snide remarks about the orcs, and none of my father’s people were decapitated in retaliation.

The orcish party came, spent hours walled up with my father and the royal council, I lingered around the door and behind the wood panelling in the great hall, scuttling along the wainscot like a stray castle mouse, sneaking scraps of conversation instead of cheese.

I couldn't take my eyes off Vilugh though. He sat with the presence of a dormant volcano; all that power barely contained within each gesture. Like his mother, he wore a mix of leather and fur, with a swathe of his large, green-skinned chest exposed beneath the cross of leather that just about covered his nipples and went up over his huge traps and down his back to meet at the waist of the loose leather riding ‘skirt’ favoured by orcs. Really though, it was more like rough linen covered with tattered layers of studded, off cuts of leather.

As a gesture, everyone left their weapons outside the doors, and as I passed by - bored after two hours of talking - I paused and stared at them. A royal guard eyed me cautiously, as if I were about to cause mischief that would get her into trouble, and her orcish counterpart standing on the other side of the small weapons cash narrowed his eyes at me. This orc was older than the others in the chamber, and stood at seven feet tall, with colossal shoulder muscles. Perhaps the most startling thing about him to me at that age was the fact that he had only one arm, and one of his tusks was missing on the same side. He sneered down at me and I balked. I’d never seen anyone with injuries like that, and it shocked me deeply that someone could endure something like the pain of losing an arm.

I’d known orcs were tough, but that somehow helped to drive it home to me.

I had made it no further than six steps down the corridor that led away from the Great Hall when the doors creaked open and my father strode out, the orcish War Chief at his side. Trying not to look like I was on the verge of crapping my pants - which, I am ashamed to admit I probably was - I watched the party file past me. My father gave no indication of having even seen me, and marched past me as if I were no more than another rusty suit of armour gathering dust in the miles of castle corridors.

Vilugh, however, turned his gaze sidelong to me as he followed in silence, brooding as a thunderhead and twice as frightening. I managed to conjure a smile from somewhere, and he looked away. Everything about him looked dangerous, from the sheer size of his boar-like tusks to the massive curve of his shoulders, the definition of the muscles visible on his back and sides, the black rope of plaited hair, thicker than my two balled fists put together, that hung down to his backside, and the predatory set of his gait. Oh, and the two-handed axe now strapped to his back didn’t help much to soften him.

The orcs stayed in the castle - a first, I was informed in passing by Rigmore, the castle steward - but I didn’t eat with them. For some reason my father seemed ashamed of his scholarly son. My late brother would have been perfect for this; he’d been the warrior prince, the kingdom’s golden boy, the one destined to rule after father was dead. But Dannan was gone, and the kingdom had me now. I’d taken after my mother, apparently, though she’d died birthing me, so that was another thing my father seemed to hold against me.

I had expected to spend the rest of the day alone in the library, since it was the one day in the week when I wasn’t expected to be out in the training ring with the castle’s master at arms, trying to bulk up a body that didn’t want to take on muscle the way my brother’s had. Big burly Dannan with his head of golden curls and his biceps as big as an orc’s… Then there was me. The scholar-son. I was lean and toned after two years of trying to fill boots that would always be too big for me, but I showed no signs of developing any brawn to go with my brains. Too much of my mother’s side of the family in me, or so my father said.

With my head bent over a tome on the ancient language of our distant forbears, I didn’t hear the door open, but when a young page boy cleared his throat and squeaked at me, I jumped and spattered ink up my arm and onto my dark green linen shirt.

“Sorry, Your Highness,” the boy chirped, nervy as a sparrow.

“It’s fine,” I smiled, trying to reassure the kid. He was probably not even half my age. “You have a message for me?”

“Yes, Highness,” he said, bowing. “His Majesty says you’re to ride out with them. They’re going through the castle gardens and out into the deer park.”

“Oh. When?”

The boy grimaced. “Now.”

“Now?” I cursed and the boy blushed. “Thank you. I don’t supposed it would have killed my father to give me a little warning?”

The page boy didn’t know what to say to that, so I thanked him again and dismissed him, folding up my notes into the book and hurrying to my chambers to change into my riding leggings and something a little warmer.

By the time I jogged out of the main gates into the castle bailey, the party was just mounting up, my father swinging easily onto his enormous grey stallion as the beast pranced by the mounting block. My father was a soldier-son, first born and in the saddle before he could walk. I’d started a little later, but I wasn’t too bad. My mare was brought out to me, gleaming and brushed and black as midnight. The orcs were mounted on their boars and, despite the horses innate fear and hatred of the beasts, there wasn’t too much fuss about that.

The stable boy who led Starling out to me didn’t take her to the mounting block but brought her directly to me at the foot of the castle steps. Lean and light and fifteen years old, I sprang into the saddle and took the reins from him with a nod of thanks, nudging her forward with the merest squeeze of my lanky calves to join the others.

“Took your time, boy,” the king growled at me.

“I came as soon as the message was relayed to me,” I retorted sullenly. “I was in the library.”

“So I see. You’ve got ink on your lip,” he said as he reined Spectre around sharply. “Try to keep up and don’t fall off.”

My face heated at the comment but I ground my jaw. There was no point arguing. I risked a glance at Vilugh and found him staring with his unreadable expression at me. I flashed him a wide, boisterous, childish grin and asked Starling to go from a standstill to a fast canter with one easy command. She leapt forwards, following my father as he cantered away over the flagstones and out onto the sandy track that led from the castle around to the apple orchards and formal gardens, and beyond them, the deer park.

We were clearly not hunting that day, since no servants joined us, but the orcs still wore their axes strapped to their backs. Three joined us in total: the War Chief, her son, and the one-armed orc I’d seen outside the chamber. I’d obviously underestimated his significance, thinking him little more than a servant as he’d guarded their weapons and not been party to the peace talks within, but for him to be selected over the others in the party indicated otherwise. My trained mind quickly refiled the information and put it to one side.

My hair was growing floppy now that I had stopped cutting it. No one had noticed, and it now brushed my shoulders if it wasn’t tied up. In the library, I’d scraped it back into a ponytail where it bobbed playfully like a young plant’s first leaves, and now as we rode, it came loose, the little leather strap falling away to get trampled by the enormous hooves of the giant boars behind me.

Starling flew like her namesake, wild and graceful, turning at the slightest touch like a bird on the wing. I loved riding. I wasn’t permitted to go out alone, and no one ever had the time to escort me, so I only got to do it when my father decided he needed to skewer something deadly to let off steam, and now as we all picked up our paces, the horses keen to stretch their legs, I couldn’t keep the savage grin off my face. I felt feral for just half a moment, and it was glorious.

When we finally reined our horses back after a lovely canter along the smooth grass of the orchard road, I sat back a little and Starling responded by slowing her pace to a steady walk. I gave her her head, letting the reins fall loose and dangle, while Spectre pranced and jogged up ahead, snorting and tossing his head. My father always kept his reins too short, thinking it made his stallion’s crest of muscle look bigger. All it did was irritate the horse, but far be it from me to correct a king.

I glanced back and saw Vilugh’s boar raise its huge, pierced snout and let out a scream of what seemed to be like joy as it trotted along behind. My father’s horse spooked a little, and Starling skittered sideways. I went with her, absorbing the motion with my hips before she settled under my palm and voice. “Easy, they’re our friends now,” I crooned to her, and caught the flicker of her ears as she picked out my familiar voice. “There, see… just a big piglet. Nothing to worry about.”

At that, I heard Vilugh snort behind me and turned to grin at him.

“Shh,” I said conspiratorially. “She doesn't need to know what they can really do.”

His harsh face cracked a little at that and he nodded with a little smile. He probably saw me as a little child, I realised, and my face flushed again. I looked away and didn’t try to speak to him for the rest of the ride.

The orcs’ visit was brief, but it marked the beginning of an uneasy peace with their kind. I grew in my duties, becoming ever more isolated. I had no friends among the court, my father ignored me until he required me to be present for something, I trained, I rode my horse, I studied, I ate, I slept, and I read. For three years, the orcs did not return to the castle, though my father made one trip alone to visit them on neutral ground somewhere out on the plains.

When he returned, he seemed pensive, and I caught him staring at me a few times over supper that night, which unnerved me.

The year I turned eighteen was the year I discovered my new nicknames among our people. The “Silent Prince” and the “Royal Monk” had become my monikers, and my father hated it. Personally, I thought it rather fitting. I was still skinny, unable to put on muscle no matter how much meat I was given at supper or how many boars my father sent me to bring down. Of course, I couldn’t bring one down alone, but I managed once or twice with the help of a retainer or two. I wasn’t a complete disappointment. But I wasn’t Dannan.

My twenty first slid by, and my father showed no signs of slowing down. He expanded his territories to the east, and I saw war for the first time. Of course, I didn’t see it from the front lines. What I saw was strategy and numbers in the tents, and my tactics and suggestions won us three battles. They lost us one too, but to my surprise, my father started to take note of me then. He never said anything different, but he included me more in his business than he ever had. My hair grew a little longer, though I had it routinely hacked off when it got below my shoulder blades. It was nothing like the luscious head of curls my brother had had, so I could wear it long without it looking feral. Dannan’s had practically been a halo for him.

One morning, over our habitually silent weekly breakfast together, my father cleared his throat and announced, “Son, you’ll be heading off to train with Khraxh and her war band.”

I choked so hard on my scrambled egg that a servant actually had to step forwards and slap me on the back. “What?” I croaked the moment I had air enough in my lungs to articulate the word.

“You heard me,” the king said, his grey-blue eyes drifting down a list in front of him, the contents of which he had not deigned to share with me. As usual, I had brought a book with me to the table to entertain myself until he rose and left.

“I did, but… why?”

“I believe it will be good for you. Her son, Vilugh, will be here tomorrow to escort you.”

“I’m going alone?” Stupid question. I was always alone.

“Yes,” father chimed carelessly. “It’s time to toughen you up properly. Six months with them ought to do it.”

My mind went blank. “Six… Six months?” I stammered. “You can’t be serious.”

“What? You have something better to do than enhance our diplomacy with those beasts?” he sneered.

I was in the middle of translating one of the great Eddic collections of our people into the modern tongue for one, but I didn’t mention that. “Apparently not,” I said coolly, rising from the table after one last swig of water to wash down the startled remnants of my breakfast from my throat. “Excuse me,” I said, not waiting for his permission to leave.

Part Two

___

Please let me know if you’re interested in more! Some of the patreon folks were also interested in the one-armed orc, and don’t worry, he’s got more of a role to play too in the future.

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier!

#exophilia #orc x reader #orcs #orc #male orc #male orc x male reader #first person narrative #1st person #wip #work in progress #hey look a new(ish) story!#tw: death of sibling #mentioned #strained father-son relationship #prince #prince reader #male royalty #orc x prince

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dragonladdie · 4 years ago

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Star ref sheet

Slight spoilers for White Raven ahead!

(note: will be continuously updated as story progresses)

BIO

Name: Star

Gender: Cis mare

Pronouns: she/they

Age: Young adult, would be in her early 20s

SO: Lesbian

Coloring: Grulla

Voice claim: Nathalie Emmanuel as Deet

General physical description: Very small, just barely taller than a riding pony. Naturally curly mane, and longer hair around her hooves. She has odd green eyes that she inherited from her father. The only white markings on her body is a single star on her forehead.

Relationships:

Frond(mother, deceased): The two were very close before Frond passed. Even though it’s been a long time since the incident, Star still misses her.

Bear(father): Her feelings about her father are... mixed, to say the least. He values the traditional herd laws a bit more for Star’s liking, but, as her father and Chief she looks up to him.

Rabbit(grandmother): Star has always adored her grandmother’s stories, and wise lessons. But, as an adult, she seeks out the wisdom of Rabbit more and more often.

Dandelion(adopted guardian): Frond and Dandelion were good friends. Some even would say Dandelion acted as a second motherly figure to Frond. Ever since Frond was attacked and killed by a mountain lion, Dandelion took it upon herself to help raise Star.

Slate(half brother): Dandelion’s son. As a foal, Star thought he was weird. Slate would charge headfirst into trees, prancing a wee bit too close to bison herds, and eating any weird bugs he’d find. But, when Dandelion adopted her, the two started to spend more time with each other, and then became inseparable. Star was sad to see Slate leave when they both turned a year old. But, after she and Dew Frost escaped the Man’s Den(a fort during the American Frontier wars, similar to the fort Spirit was taken to in SSotC), they stumbled upon Rain’s group, where Slate and Wolf had joined.

Wolf(half brother): Wolf and Star would always wrestle and bicker as foals. Like Slate, she is very close with him. The two would always lead the other foals on “daring adventures”, and would always argue over who’d be leader. Looking back, Star takes pity on Wolf, as his mother, Acorn, hardly cared for him. When her other half brothers left, Slate and Wolf stuck together and joined Rain's group, where they reunited with Star a while later.

Hawk(half brother): Owl’s twin brother. Hawk was a snitch, to put it simply. Whenever the other foals were doing something fun(stupid, dangerous), he would always run off and tell Bear, or his mom, or their moms, anybody who’d listen. But, even though he was annoying, they still cared for each other.

Osprey(half brother): Hawk’s twin brother. There was hardly a time when Osprey wasn’t talking. He would constantly blab about anything that popped up inside his mind, even when the rest of the herd was trying to sleep. There were more times than Star could count where either she or her other brothers had to bite him to get him to button his yap, but they still got along just fine.

Hemlock(half brother): The shy, nervous one of the foals. He was always the one saying “Um, guys? I’m not so sure about this!” whenever they were doing something possibly dangerous. He and Star shared a love for Rabbit’s stories, and the history of the horse species. They got along, even though they were somewhat polar opposites.

Dew Frost(friend/love interest): Star met Dew Frost when she was captured by men. Almost immediately, she thought she was the most beautiful mare she'd ever seen. After a few conversations with Dew Frost, seeing how cynical she was, and catching how she'd look beyond the walls of the fort in longing, Star became determined to help her escape. When they did, Star was overjoyed to see how happy Dew Frost was to be finally free. It was the first time she'd seen her genuinely smile, and she tries to make her smile like that every day.

Rain(ally): Rain wasn't that fond of Star at first, and she knows it. Although she tries to be passive and non-confrontational, she's the only horse that matches his level of stubbornness, leading to some rather nasty disagreements. Star wouldn't go so far to call Rain her friend, but she trusts him, and he does too, more or less.

Neran(friend): Not going to lie, Star was intimidated by the larger mare at first. And, considering how Star accidentally trampled her brother when they first met, Star didn't exactly give a good first impression. But, as she spent more time with her, she started to see a more vulnerable, softer side to Neran. Star now has grown quite fond of her.

Garoh(friend): Given the conditions of their first meeting(Star not looking where she was going and colliding into the poor stallion as he was trying to relax), Star would have expected that he would have held some sort of grudge against her. But, he didn't seem to be upset at all by it, and now they're good friends.

Nahlay-Hain(friend): Star was at first hesitant to welcome Nahlay-Hain, as their herd's sick "traditions" nearly got Garoh slaughtered by a mad wolf. But as time passed, Star noticed that they both shared the same passion of the history of the horse species, and soon became friends.

Trivia/Character notes:

- Stripes on her legs can be simplified.

- Cinnamon roll

- Is what you would call an "uwu bean"

- Surprisingly strong for her small size

- Wasn't born with her star marking. Not saying why because spoilers but it is important

- chumby,,,,,,,,,

- Larger ears

- She prefers to sit down and talk stuff out but she'll fuck up ur shit if she's gotta

- Every once a while she has this dream where she's standing in a clearance in a forest, under a full moon. Sometimes she'll see eight white ravens overhead, or something moving in the trees. But, it always ends the same; with the moon cracking, and something bursting out of it right as she wakes up.

#HOLY GOD ITS DONE #IM FINNA PASS AWAY NOW BYE B #White Raven #WR #Star WR #Star reference #oc ref #oc reference #my art #oc #equine oc #horse oc #click for better quality

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theartofbeinganeldar · 5 years ago

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The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 5

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in Middle-Earth, Thranduil summoned a council of powerful Elves and wizards to see what should be done with you, expressing his wishes of wanting you out of his kingdom. The council decides to send you with Legolas on an orc-hunting mission, and if the Elves of the company that he deems trustworthy-- one of them being his own wife-- say that you've proven yourself worthy of staying among the Mirkwood Elves, then you can stay. The problem is actually managing to succeed...

Chapter No.: Chapter 5

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color [lad/lass/y-o]= lad/laddie, lass/lassie, young one

Notes: I know I've been trying to keep this story gender-nuetral, but dwarves have a habit of referring to people (Even Gimli to Legolas, though he's a lot younger than our golden boy) as "lad/laddie" "lass/lassie." Or even "young one," I've heard Balin call Bilbo. So for this story, I'll just put [lad/lass/y-o] in parenthesese, and you can just hear whichever one you choose. :)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir LIVES, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC maybe Bilbo you won't know for awhile, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

The Elves stopped just outside the northern border of the Mirkwood, to the west, to wait for the dwarves. But apparently the little guys just didn't give a shit.

The whole group camped for three days, then three more days, and by the end of it, you were even growing impatient. It was mainly the younger Elves that shared your impatience, but Elves like Elvenqueen and Erestor and Haldir seemed to think that they had all the time in the world, la la fucking la...

Legolas seemed in-between, irritated at the dwarves for being so late but not really caring in the long run. You tried several times to approach him and apologize, but he always seemed to disappear at the most inconvenient times imaginable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity-- you were getting sick and tired of frolicking-- the sign of a camp on a distant ridge, a couple of days away, gave the Elves hope that the dwarves finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to show up. A couple of Elves seemed to puff some horses out of thin air, and galloped off to meet them.

"We get horses?!" You'd screeched, and wheeled on your friends-- Tauriel hadn't come, so Lindir, Elros, and pissy Blue-Eyes were the only actual friends here you had, even though all the other Elves were very nice to you. "Why the fuck didn't anybody tell me we got horses?!" You could've been riding to pass this time. Not that you knew how to ride a horse, but that wasn't the point.

Elros blinked at you in disbelief. "Those Elves awaited us on the border with horses enough for all. You have not seen them before?"

"No, dammit, or I would've been riding to pass the time!" You hadn't noticed them, because a certain Rivendell Elf had forced you to learn Elvish... You rounded on him. "Lindir! If you hadn't made me sit here and learn Elvish, I could've been riding!"

Lindir stared at you, then slowly raised an eyebrow challengingly. "You do not know how to ride, do you?"

You frowned. "That's not the point!"

Both Elros and Lindir chuckled amongst themselves. You huffed theatrically. "Fine, jackasses. I'm off to pet one of those sweet animals. You can teach me Elvish later."

Before either of them could stop you, you all but ran off, hoping not to slam into anybody or trip or cause something to fall that'd cause a huge mess. You were prone to all of them. And there were horses, enough for everybody there, and three very fat ponies that you almost started squealing over. Those, you guessed, were for the dwarves.

But one horse, out of all of them, caught your eye.

A sleek, gorgeous black, with a bright white star on his forehead. He was built for speed, like a racehorse, but he was sturdy, too. You looked for something to mark him as belonging to a certain Elf-- because you knew Elves loved horses, and that like all horse people, even look at their horse wrong and you make it on their kill list-- but they all seemed randomly selected out of somebody's stables, dressed in the same dark leather tack and saddlebags.

"Oooooh," You approached him quietly, and he nickered softly at you, his dark eyes scanning you and the Elves and the other horses warily. He seemed only recently tamed. "You, fine sir, are gorgeous."

"I beg your pardon?"

You promptly fell backward. Shit! Talking horses, too?! "What the fuck?!"

Legolas, with a smug smirk plastered onto his absurdly perfect face, sailed into existence from around a dapple gray mare. "Valar tell me you were talking to the horse."

"No, I can tell you I was talking to the horse," You sighed in relief, shaking your head as you stood. "But don't worry your platinum head, Goldie, all Elves are equally beautiful creatures."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, mellon."

You stroked the black's face gently. "No seriously though, he's beautiful. Does he have a name?"

Blue-Eyes didn't look up from brushing his mare's mane. "Most of the horses came from Rivendell and Rohan, which they bought on the journey. The rest came from the Woodland stables. I doubt you will find his name, if he has one."

You felt a little disappointed that you couldn't ask if you could have the horse. You'd always wanted one, but for... Personal reasons that had to do with your biological father, you never got one. "Well... I'll just refer to him as The Black, then."

Blue-Eyes turned around, and started inspecting his tack. "Hm... He seems to have come from our own stables." He stroked behind the stallion's ears, and the horse snuffed appreciatively.

"Legolas," You said quickly, realizing you should catch him when you have the chance. "I'm sorry for not telling you about me leaving if this didn't go well. It wasn't my choice; Thranduil wanted me to go with Elrond that day, but I asked if I could stay. He sent me on this mission to see if I was worthy enough to stay in his Palace of Fabulous. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but... I didn't think anyone would care if I left."

Blue-Eyes got a confused look. "Why... Why would you think that?"

You gave him a sad, lopsided smile. "No one has before."

Recognition, then regret, flashed across Blue-Eyes's face. "Oh, Sairen... I am truly sorry, mellon nin, I should not have been angry with you. I didn't realize... I should have, and I should not have been upset with you. I just... I do care if you leave, and, if I'm honest, I do not want you to go."

You patted his shoulder. "Just so long as you forgive me."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "Of course, mellon, if you can forgive me."

You grinned. "Forgiven." You nudged him with your shoulder. "I'm just glad we're friends again. I've never had so many people be nice to me, but only a handful of you I consider my friends."

"And who among us hold that honor?" He asked teasingly.

Oh shit... You'd seen movies where somebody's asked this question, and if the askee shows even the slightest bit of hesitation or interest in any of the friends, asker became pissed and/or jealous. Wait... Why do I care about that? You turned to him with a huge smile. "Well you and Tauriel, DUH, and then there's Lindir and Elros now. Just wait, I'll be friends with Haldir and Erestor too, and then your mom-- by the time I'm finished I'll even make your dad like me!"

Legolas chuckled. "I hope so, mellon."

"By the way," You said, and reached down to grab a handful of grass to give to the Black. "Lindir and Elros are trying-- and failing-- to teach me Elvish. I'm a horrible student, namely because I'm Elvish-challenged. Still, I'm learning, and I want you to teach me something very specific."

He looked confused. "What?"

You smiled. "Teach me the history of Middle-Earth! Everything you can! I can't read Elvish, but you can, and you know the stories pretty well, I'm guessing. So start with how the world began and continue on from there."

Legolas smiled. "Very well, Sairen." In one quick movement, he mounted his mare, then reached down for your hand. "Come. We will ride, and I will tell you all that I know."

You took his hand, feeling a spark from static you'd built up from petting the horse. He hefted you effortlessly up behind him, then urged his horse into a canter as you rode away from camp.

***

Needless to say, you fell off twice.

Once, you let go of Legolas for just a second as his mare jumped a small log, and whoops, there you go. After, still not learning your lesson, you let go of him while trotting beside a river and the horse's gait made you slide right off before you even realized what was happening.

Then you learned not to let go of Blue-Eyes, mostly because he laughed his Elvish ass off every time you fell, after making sure you were okay.

As for world history, it was all very confusing. There were like six different versions of somebody and a hundred different other guys shared the same name and places and descendants and confusing time periods and just ugh. That was one thing you remembered from Earth: Tolkien's works had always been confusing.

Long story short, though, there was a guy called Eru, or Illuvatar, and he created a bunch of friends through thought. These friends of his became the Valar, and Illuvatar created the whole universe-- Ea-- through more thought. Then he had all his friends-- fourteen of them-- sing, and they created the vision of Valinor, then Arda, and the mischief-maker was Melkor, brother of god-king Manwe.

Now, after a long bout of building and making and stuff they created Valinor and Tirion and Mandos and all that, and they created birds and beasts, but Melkor got jealous and tried to ruin it at every fucking turn. Seriously, the guy didn't give them a break.

Then, Aule, another Valar, who made a lot of shit, wanted to have a bunch of kids so created the little guys known as dwarves, and made them to be especially tough and hardy and stuff because they were supposed to be around during the time of Melkor. But, Illuvatar appeared in his living room one night and said "I think the fuck not my kids come first" which made Aule reeeaaaaaallly upset, so he tried to kill the dwarves (Supreme parenting 2.0!), but then Illuvatar said "wait idiot they can still live" so Aule put them in stasis-mode for like several million years, until somebody "accidentally" unleashed some new Elves into Middle-Earth-- which had no moon or sun.

So duh Orome shows up, says "hi" and everybody runs for their lives except for a few brave souls, who round everybody back up. So three particular Elves, Finwe, Lenwe, and Ingwe, who you're pretty sure were brothers, went to Valinor with Orome to see if it was suitable for Elves-- and it was pretty much Elven paradise, or Vegas or something.

THUS CAME THE FIRST SUNDERING OF THE ELVES, or, that's how dramatically Leggy told it; the Teleri came to rest on the shores of Aman instead of going still further (Who earlier had split further and some became the Sindar, who had stayed in Beleriand, and the Silvan Elves, who'd stayed in the forests of Beleriand or something, of which Blue-Eyes was the first.), the Nandor who got scared of mountains and refused to go further, and the Noldor, who came all the way to Valinor.

Once actually in Aman, the Elves loved it there. They were in paradise. Water. Books. Flowers. Sparkles. Everything an Elf dreamed of. They built a city on a huge hill called Tirion upon Tuna (No you refrained from laughing.), made of silver and gold and more sparkles, and there was lots of peace, until Melkor was finally caught and chained.

Peace, lots of peace, boring shit, more peace, then BAM, the idiot Valar let the bastard go, like dumbasses. Melkor hadn't changed of course, no one does. He started rumors like some crazy gossiper and started up a whole bunch of shit. At that time, this guy called Feanor was around. He was like, the Elf of Elves, but he had some breathtaking anger management issues because after his mom died, his dad waited like a couple thousand years then got married again, and he definitely did not like his stepmom.

Or his two half-brothers.

They were pretty cool guys, Fingolfin and Finarfin, and each brother had like a dozen kids each, one of Finarfin's, get this, was Galadriel. One of Thingol's kin? Celeborn. Elrond? Yeah, he's the grandson of Beren and Luthien, the son of Earendil, raised by Maglor, related to Turin, and his grandparents were Tuor and Idril, the latter of which was the daughter of Turgon, who was the son of Fingolfin, who was the brother of Feanor, so yeah.

Holy fucking shit. Their god stories were kinda hard not to believe when people still existed who could vouch for them.

So this Feanor guy created a trio of sparklies beyond all sparklies, called, the Silmarils. He got a mild case of dragonsickness, boasting and hoarding and showing off and gloating, but Melkor made him think his brothers were trying to steal his sparkles, which, fuck no, how dare they, and he made his brothers think that Feanor was trying to usurp their father Finwe's throne.

Damn that guy knew how to stir up some shit.

One of Melkor's chief servants? Sauron, the Dark Lord, previously known as Sauron the Sparkly Maiar Who Wouldn't Hurt A Butterfly. Balrogs? Yup, Melkor made them, too.

Basically, Feanor started a revolution against the Valar and Melkor, who he called Morgoth, because Melkor was just too pretty of a name for such a bad guy, who stole every single light with the help of a hideously large spider called Ungoliant, killed Finwe, then took the Silmarils.

Feanor was piiiiiiissed.

So the Noldor left Tirion, killed some guys that tried to reason with them that turned out to be Elves, the Teleri, got cursed by Mandos, then Feanor, his sons, and a couple hundred who he knew didn't question him set off on stolen boats and burned them when they reached shore, leaving everybody else-- Galadriel included-- to walk the fucking Helcaraxe, a snowy strait wasteland, to get to Beleriand, which was filled with sparkling twinkle-toes Elves and much-less-serious dwarves-- who were friends.

There was also a good portion of the story dedicated to Turin, Beren and Luthien, and the couple known as Maedhros and Fingon, who you instantly adored: Maedhros, chained to a jagged cliffside for who-knows-how-long, and Fingon, who wanted so badly to save him, and eventually carried up to the cliffside by an eagle; he had to cut off Maedhros's hand, but the story was so heartfelt you were still internally squealing about it.

Yeah so that happened, and then a bunch of war and slaying and something about a Fall of Gondolin and the Children of Hurin and Beren and Luthien leading up to a whole lot of human-caused shit with Numenor, and then Illuvatar blew everything up and restarted, essentially. Toward the end of the second age, Sauron (The fucker had somehow lived through all that evil-cleansing shit.), in the form of a fancy-prancy Elf named Annatar, suggested the making of the Rings of Power. Three, a smart guy who hadn't fallen for any of Annatar's shit, Celebrimbor, hid for the Elves, while Sauron/Annator helped forge the rest in order to control them, making one ring, above all.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for mortal men doomed to die,

And one for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

That was totally cool and stuff, and a handful of well-known Elves-- Gil-Galad, Glorfindel (Who'd uh, previously died due to a balrog trying to touch his hair.), Elrond-- and you're betting Galadriel, Celeborn, and Thranduil-- plus a bunch of well-known humans, lead by Isildur's dad, Elendil, and probably some dwarves, all came together with their armies and formed the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, totally discounting every dwarf that was there.

The nine kings who'd been given rings? Yeah, those were cursed, and because Men are greedy, they became shadows of their former selves, black-clad servants of Sauron, known as the Ringwraiths-- or, even cooler, Nazgul.

So there was a huge battle. Gil-Galad fell. Isildur's dad fell. Isildur cut off the One Ring from Sauron's hand, Sauron faded away, and Elrond took Isildur into Mount Doom to destroy the Ring. But he was weak, and was seduced by its power, and Elrond just stood there screaming his name apparently.

So there'd been roughly a couple thousand years of peace, and nobody knew where the Ring was. You doubted it was anywhere safe or secure, and much less that Sauron was actually dead.

Also, the Elves were fading. That scared you.

"What?! Great, I got sucked into a world where I'm just gonna die!"

Legolas laughed. "No, mellon nin, we are fading. Not dying. We just long for home, and our kind is slowly leaving Middle-Earth. This world becomes gray to us after so long of living here. We go across the sea, to the Undying Lands of Aman and Valinor."

"Okay," You leaned around him to see his face. "What is it with you Elves and the sea?! What's so important about it, if even you've never seen it yourself?! I certainly haven't seen any kind of ocean or sea."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "The first sound ever heard by the Elves was flowing water. It calls us home, in a way. It is said by my people that in water there yet lives the echo of the Music of the Ainur that first created this world."

"Huh," You said, tilting your head. "Guess that does make it really interesting..."

The sound of another pair of hoofbeats, coming up from behind, nearly made you fall off of the horse again. "Orcs?!"

Blue-Eyes grinned smugly. "Orcs do not ride horses, Sairen."

"Duh. I knew that. Fuck you."

"I'd rather you not without my consent."

"That's not always what it means!" You hid your blush by moving so your head was behind his back. Damn Elves...

It was Erestor, riding a gorgeous flaxen stallion. "Legolas, Elvenqueen calls upon the company of [Y/N]."

Nervously, you peered around Blue-Eyes's side. "Is that bad?"

Legolas spurred his own mare into a canter as he followed after Erestor. "Not in the least, mellon."

When you returned to camp, Erestor and Legolas took care of the horses, while they sent you on ahead-- by yourself, to a scary yet badass Elvenqueen you might glare you out of existence if you breathed wrong, like the wonderful friends they were-- to the Elvenqueen.

She sat by one of the center campfires, surrounded by a drove of Elves eagerly listening to whatever she was saying. Even in the firelight, she looked really young, but really regal and noble and even though she didn't have a wrinkle on her body you could tell she'd been around for eons.

All went silent when you approached. Nervously, you bowed. "Y-you wished to see me, your majesty?"

"Yes," She said, and waved to a place on a log across from her. "Sit."

You weren't terrified or anything. Just 'cause she decided not to skin you alive a couple days ago didn't mean she couldn't change her mind. You caught a glimpse of Elros in the crowd, and he gave you a reassuring nod: Don't worry, you won't die yet.

Comforting.

"Tell something of your world," She said.

You balked. Hadn't Thranduil told her everything you'd said? They seemed like the type of couple to do just that. Hadn't Legolas at least given her some information? They seemed close. You swallowed hard, readjusting yourself on the log. "What uh... What do you want to know?"

She thought for a second. "A tale."

You shifted. Sure, that was specific. You'd read billions of books (Well, maybe not quite that much...), but you couldn't remember any that Elves would want to hear aside from series’, like Temeraire, or The Gospel of Loki, or Eon the Last Dragoneye. Maybe you could use a movie, but Marvel and Transformers were too long and in-depth. You thought for a minute. You didn't even know how to give a much-shortened version of Eragon.

But out of everything, it was your best bet to tell a story and be safe from explaining your world's past, or things of your world, or cultures, mythology, or the concept of giant robots from another planet that hide by transforming into cars. Eragon was the closest thing you had to Lord of the Rings that you could remember right off the top of your head that was most similar; it had some of the same beasts, like dragons and werewolves, it was set in the same genre and had dwarves and Elves and Men, even if urgals were a new one... Then again, you weren't sure how they'd take dragons being good instead of hoarding assholes.

So, you got started.

As a hobby, you wrote a lot of fanfiction, which had mainly been for Lord of the Rings; you couldn't remember any of it now, of course, but you'd also started your own fantasy stories that had never been published. You were good with storytelling.

There were points where you had to pause and remember what happened next, or try to find words that explained the guilt or sadness or general feels of the story, but you did pretty good. By the time you were finished, the sun had came up and it was already noon, and the Elves that'd gone off to see if that camp was for dwarves were coming back, with a couple of pony-sized rams with shaggy coats carrying three tiny buff hairy guys.

Elvenqueen regally stood. "My thanks, [Y/N]. That was a wonderful story." She sailed through the ranks of the Elves, which parted before her like reeds to a boat.

"Is that a true story?" Lindir asked you, eyes wide.

You scoffed. "If it were true, I'd've had a dragon named Saphira or Shruikan. I have no dragon." You clapped your hands together. "So! When do I get to meet the dwarves?"

Blue-Eyes-- who'd joined later in the story, and another Elf caught him up on what was going on while he half-listened to what else was going on-- mockingly rolled his eyes. "Patience, mellon. I cannot think of any Eldar whom would willingly want to make the acquaintance of a dwarf."

You gave him a pointed look. "What about Thingol's people?"

Silence. Finally, Elros busted out laughing, and clapped the now-stunned Legolas on the back. "They have a point, mellon!"

But Blue-Eyes was right. It was only a couple hours before you were sought out by a Lothlorien Elf, who told you Thorin wanted to meet "the one who hailed from far." Apparently, nobody here felt like saying "the person that came from another planet." Not as mysterious, apparently.

So you followed the Elf to a tent, much smaller than those of the Elves, and a lot less colorful and, dare you say it, fashionable. Literally, it just looked like a bunch of old dark-colored blankets had been stitched together haphazardly. But, if you looked at the tools and tack of the rams, they were just doing it in spite of the Elves, because they had really good craftsmanship.

You weren't sure what to do. "Uhhh... Knock knock?"

You belatedly remembered one of the dwarves was royalty. "Sirs?"

The flap of the tent opened, and you got your first look at a dwarf.

He was an older dwarf, with a long graying beard and frizzy hair, and huge round ears. He looked you up and down in a brief but kind inspection, and, came to the very educated conclusion of, yup, not your normal Elf.

The dwarf smiled. "Ah, you must be [Y/N]." He sounded more Scottish than anything, and you were instantly relaxed. "The one from a far place. Not a normal Elf, then?"

You shook your head. "No sir. Just got here about a month and a half ago, actually."

He raised a hand. "Now now, we are all a part of this expedition, and I don't like being referred to as 'sir.' I am Balin to you."

You couldn't help but smile. He was a lovable little guy, a very sweet old dwarf. "Okay then. But, uh... Should I call Thorin or Dwalin 'sir'?"

Balin thought about that. "Ehhh... Thorin, yes. Dwalin? No."

You nodded, and Balin lead you inside the tent. It was pretty cozy, with three logs covered in roughish furs for makeshift beds. A small cooking fire was set up in the middle, and two other dwarves sat by it, halting their dwarvish conversation when they seen you and Balin. "This is they," Said Balin, in an introductory way. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], from far places."

The dwarf who you assumed was Dwalin-- buff, sleeveless, and with viscious muttonchops that made him look like Wolverine-- scoffed. "Tell me," Holy shit, he sounds like Leonidas from 300! "[Y/N], do you perhaps come from the Iron Hills?"

"Iron... What?" You were confused. Hadn't any of the Elves talked about you being from Earth? "N...No. I come from a place called Earth."

"Dwalin," Said the other guy, who radiated kingship, authority, and regal dwarfish-ness. He didn't take his eyes off you, like you were a predator ready to strike that he was wary of. He had a beard, but braided neatly down, and long dark hair. He wore dark navy blue and brown fur armor, and his voice was like, super deep. "They are not of the Iron Hills."

"Uh... Thank you?"

Thorin stood, and you bowed. "I'd uh, use some really respectful greeting, but I don't know any in dwarvish yet, so, it's an honor to meet you, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin nodded. "I would say the same, if I knew you deserved any honor," He replied. Ouch.

You didn't know what to say. He obviously had no love for Elves. "What uh... What made you think I was from the Iron Hills, wherever that is?"

"To the east of Erebor, [lad/lass/y-o]," Balin informed you, and Dwalin whacked him so hard upside the head you could've swore they broke something.

"Oh. What made you think--"

Thorin looked at you with a look that said stfu so you did. "The dwarves of Erebor think little of Elven magic, or wizards. We did not believe a portal strong enough to pull someone from another world could exist. And as I have discovered, it does not."

You were confused. "What do you mean? You mean the ears? Those were latex, I swear, but suddenly they weren't. You can ask Thranduil, I'm not from these parts."

Thorin glared at you. "I would rather not converse with the Elvenking. He does not hear the word of others. As for you... It is clear you are merely an Elf of strange upbringing, who lost themselves in the wrong woods."

"Okay," You were starting to get irritated. You loved Middle-Earth, but you weren't from Middle-Earth. You didn't belong, like always, and you were ready to defend your position. In Game of Thrones--you'd never gotten far in that series, and had only started the books-- Tyrion Lannister told Jon Snow to armor himself in what people thought his weakness was, so that it would no longer be his weakness. That's exactly what you'd done over the course of your life, and you weren't about to lose that now. "Listen, I can show you the damn portal. It wasn't made by Elves, or wizards, or any of that other shit. The inscription on the portal came from the time of Gondolin, if that means anything to you. Do I talk like an Elf, to you? Do I act like one? The Elves were ready to kill me, just because I breathed wrong near their damn trees after being chased by orcs on oversized dogs. If I weren't from another world, do you honestly think I'd have such elaborate stories?"

Behind Thorin, Balin patted his hands down, giving you the silent signal to shut up. Glacing at Thorin's pissed off face made you listen. "How am I to believe you?"

You made a face. "Don't you dwarves have any kind of lie-detecting abilites?"

Balin sighed. "None that we can think of, [lad/lass/y-o]."

You huffed in defeat. "Okay, okay, you know what? You dwarves are beyond stubborn, so I'll just tell you once: I come from another world. If you don't believe me, fine, but I'd actually like to make friends with dwarves, thank you very much."

"Oh!" Dwalin chuckled deeply. "Then they must not be an Elf, Thorin! None in their right mind would go cavorting with a dwarf!"

Thorin frowned. "Perhaps a spy... But wait... You are not of the Woodland Elves. I see that now."

You looked down at yourself. "Gee, what gave it away?"

"You carry yourself differently," He began to circle you, and you felt like you were being circled by a vulture. An angry vulture... "Most unlike them, or any Elf I have heard tale of. Whom were you raised by?"

"Uh, my mother," You quipped with a cocked eyebrow. "Her name is [M/N]."

"And where do your kin reside? With the Rangers of Dúnadain?"

"With the what? Is that some kind of club?"

"Club?" Thorin repeated. "You believe that to be a weapon?" He gave you a disbelieving look, and you sighed.

"No, no. Where I come from, a club is a group of people that gather together and talk about stuff they like, or try to run the schools or shit like that," You were trying to explain with excessive hand movements, but you only seemed to be freaking him out.

He narrowed his eyes. In a rough and rusty language that sounded like it could be dwarvish, he said something; you didn't even catch any of the words.

You stared at him blankly for a second. "Mae g'ovannen...?" You tried, wincing at your hopeless pronunciation of the words.

Thorin regarded you with a newfound look of awe. Behind him, Dwalin chuckled. "That, was his attempt at Elvish. And you did not understand what he said?"

You stared. "...No? Was I supposed to? Did you just say something important? Or insult me? Hey, I'm only just starting to learn Sindarin!"

Thorin's look of awe shifted to a scowl and a bitter smirk. "It was not Sindarin, I can assure you. It was Quendi, that of the Noldor, the only Elvish my people know."

"Quen-- Oh, I get it now. Different Elves, different languages, it's all coming together..." You swung your arms casually. "Ok, so, what'd you say?"

"I told you that you are an imposter, and no better than Orc-filth" Said Thorin absentmindedly, "Which would send any Elf into a fit of well-groomed rage."

You couldn't help yourself. You burst into a fit of giggles, making all three dwarves look at you weirdly. "I-I'm sorry," You wheezed, "'Well-groomed rage'; yeah, that's pretty much what they do!"

"What of this quest, then?" Challenged Thorin as he took a seat. He gestured for you to do the same. "If you are not of the Wood Elves, yet you are indeed Elven, why are you on this journey? What purpose do you have here?" He poured you a drink; you'd never really tasted ale or mead of any kind, and recoiled from the smell.

"In order for you to understand, I'd have to tell you the story," You told him, and he gestured for you to continue. So you did. "I fell from the highest branches of an oak tree playing a game with my family. It was a standard day. Standard, pointless life. A life in a dying world that was way too fucking overpopulated, in the wrong damn places. It was a twisted kind of home. I didn't like it, and did what I wanted, so people hated me. I was dressed as an Elf--hence the ears.

"I wake up in the middle of the night, still in the forest, and am suddenly being chased by orcs on the backs of oversized dogs with six-packs on their faces."

Thorin grew confused. "Six-pack? What is that?"

You patted your stomach. "Those rows of six square tight muscles you get on you stomach if you work out. Now lemme finish!

"I get caught up in a river, shot by an arrow, and am half-dead by the time the Elves arrive lead by Blue-Eyes-- uh, Legolas-- and they're ready to kill me, but because I'm pretty much dead and in their forest, I'm some kind of threat. Because they're real nice like that. Thranduil-- who I kindly refer to as, Lord Fabulous-- wanted Leggy to kill me on the spot. Blade to my neck and everything. Until I pointed out that I could go home if we found the portal and would never return by pain of death. Ouch, but whatever.

"So we look, find it, and surprise! Can't get through. Can never see my family again. Can never go home. Suddenly I'm a real Elf. I go into a kind of depression before I realize that this place was a fictional world from where I'm from, which I'd loved, but for some reason can't remember shit now." You pointed to him. "Your name is important. Very. I know that much. You do something really cool, probably.

"But the Council of Wisdomy Guys was summoned, and they decided that it would be best if I proved my worthiness to stay among the Wood Elves on this mission. No pressure!" You grinned maniacally. "What brings you here? I hear a certain gray-robed wizard?"

"Ah, yes," He sighed. "Gandalf. My father met with him whilst I was in the depths of Erebor, so I heard no word of it and could make no protest against it until my father told me that I was to travel with two of my choice to assist the Elves. I only tolerate this for my father's sake, and he claims this will be a good lesson for kingship one day. But when I heard word of someone from foreign lands, I feared it was the dwarves of the Iron Hills attempting some form of scheme. Never have they liked us, and they never shall."

You scoffed. "Yeah, well... Most of the Elves may not like you either, but some of them aren't so bad."

Dwalin choked on his bread. Balin gave you a sad look. "But they tried to kill you!"

You shrugged. "I'm used to getting awful treatment. And besides, now that they know me, I've made some friends. Tauríel, the Captain of the Guard; Lindir of Rivendell, and Elros son of Elrond... And then there's Blue-- Legolas."

"Why d'ya refer to him that way?" Dwalin demanded with a disgusted look.

You shrugged. "A nickname. Where I come from, it's a gesture of friendship. I call Lindir 'Lindy' and he hates it, I can tell."

Thorin snorted. "Well, [Y/N] of Earth... Should the Wood Elves refuse your company, Dale might make a nice, temporary placement until you find elsewhere."

You smirked, nodding slowly. "I heard that emphasis on temporary. Don't worry; I thank you for your hospitality, but Lord Elrond is staying at the palace until I return. If I fail, he'll take me back to Rivendell with him."

"Good. One less Elf on our borders to deal with."

"Oh screw off."

Thorin grinned bitterly, but waved a hand. "Begone, I am done with questioning you."

You scoffed, and Dwalin took your drink and guzzled it. to your shock and amazement. Out of the three of them, only Balin wished you a goodnight.

But you weren't tired, which you realized as you found yourself heading back toward the horses. "[Y/N]," Said a familiar voice, and you turned to see Haldir striding toward you.

You bowed, suddenly recognizing him as somebody of high rank. "Mae l'ovannen, Haldir of Lothlorien. What's up?"

He blinked in confusion. "I..." He slowly looked up. "Believe the stars..."

You chuckled. "No, no; that's an expression, where I come from. It means how are you doing, what is it you need, nice to see you, etcetera etcetera."

He stared at you. "...'Et... Cetera...?'"

You slumped over. "Oi... It means a general list of similar meanings that're implied but nobody feels like saying."

Haldir smiled. "Oh, I see. Lindir wished for you to return, so that you could continue your lessons in Sindarin." He didn't miss your look of disappointment. He smirked. "Perhaps, when you are finished with Sindarin, and already know Common, Quenyan would be best for you to learn."

"Pfft," You waved a hand. "I'll live forever. Might as well. I'll toss some dwarvish in there while I'm at it."

Haldir made a face. "I suppose that is up to you, but every dwarf speaks Common, so it would not pose any form of language barrier for that to be avoided..."

*** You were woken up no later than the crack of fucking dawn, by an elaborate blowing of horns that probably alerted ninety-seven percent of the orcs of the northern borders to your presence, but oh what the hell.

What else you woke up to?

"Galu, mellon nin," Said Legolas with a shit-eating grin. "Ci maer?"

Slowly, your groggy eyes went from wide to thin, angry slits. "...I swear to the Valar, Blue-Eyes... I just fucking woke up. What are you saying? Speak in Common, or I'll tear you limb from limb because I am not a morning person."

He gave you a look, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "Le leich, Sairen. But if you are going to learn Elvish, then you must actually try to do so. Tell me, what did I say?"

You shrugged and slumped over onto a log. "Grapefruit, melons win, kid mobster."

Blue-Eyes chuckled, but internally, you busted out laughing after realizing what you said. "No, [Y/N], you have to do this. Concentrate. What did I say?"

With a sigh, you thought about Lindir's grueling lessons with you yesterday. "...You said, 'A blessing,' which is basically 'hi,' first; Galu. Then you said 'my friend,' and, 'are you well.'"

Blue-Eyes nodded, looking excited that you were getting the hang of Elvish. "Excellent. Now respond to me in Sindarin."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. In the most unenthusiastic tone you could muster, you said, "Galu, Legolas, ni maer. A gin?" Blessings, Legolas, I am well. And you?

"Ni maer," He replied, then began polishing his bow. "Worry not, Sairen, soon Sindarin will come to you thoughtlessly. You already swear to our gods, instead of your own."

You did roll your eyes this time. An idea hit you. "Hey..." You looked at him with a huge smirk. "What's fuck you in Elvish?"

Legolas paled, then blushed. "You will learn how to speak intimately to another later--"

You huffed. "NO! What's your most offensive insult?!"

Blue-Eyes thought for a minute. "...Ego, which is the equivalent to what you mean when you proclaim that Common phrase of yours... Hopefully, most of the time."

You bit back a laugh. "...Eggo? As in, L'eggo my eggo?"

Blue-Eyes gave you a concerned look. "I... I am not sure what you mean, and it is not pronounced as you say it."

Commotion started up, and you spun around in your seat wildly to try and see why everybody was suddenly moving and packing up. "What's goin' on?"

Legolas smiled. "Well, Sairen, we are off to track the orcs."

You looked at him in a panic, pointing futilely to an Elf packing up the cooking supplies. "B-but... What about breakfast?" That sentence reminded you of someone... Someone small and innocent and prone to causing disasters... But who? Blue-Eyes didn't give you time to figure it out.

"You will not starve, mellon nin," He told you gently, and stood. "You are an Eldar now; you'd best learn what your body can do now rather than later." He smiled down at you. "Dadwenithon."

As if you understood what that meant, he practically skipped away. "...Dad marathon?" You repeated in disbelief. You got up and went to find somebody you knew, preferably not the Elvenqueen, Erestor, Haldir, or Thorin, because they'd just find you childish, or annoying. Elros was quick to find, and you approached him and his palomino steed with a very confused expression.

"Hey Elros?"

Elros looked up from brushing his horse's mane and smiled. "Ai, len suilon, mellon nin. Ci maer?"

You rolled your eyes. Stupid Elves and their five hundred different ways to say 'hi...' "Galu, Elros. Ni maer, a gin?"

"Ni maer eithro. What brings you to my company?"

"What the hell does dad marathon mean?"

Elros froze and looked at you like you were crazy. "I beg your pardon?"

You gestured wildly over your shoulder. "Legolas got up, walked away, and said dad marathon! And I've got no idea what he said!"

Elros grinned knowingly. "Ai,Legolas said dadwenithon. It means, roughly, I will return." He gave you a disgusted look. "And that is not how it is pronounced at all."

"Oh. Dadwenithon?"

Elros smiled proudly. "Yes! Precisely! Well done! But if Legolas told you he would return to you, evidently he meant for you to stay where you were."

Your eyes bugged out of your head. "Oh. I'll be going, then. Novaer." You didn't realize you'd said an Elvish farewell until you'd reached where you'd originally been seated, but that jumped out of your head when you seen Legolas waiting with his dappled mare and the black stallion (Heh heh...) from yesterday.

"Ooh! What's this all about?"

"I decided you should have your own mount throughout the course of this journey," He replied with a smile. "He is yours for now. Name him as you will, and by the end of this journey, I shall see if you may keep him."

You stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Wh... What? Keep him?"

Legolas smiled. "Surely you would wish to ride at will throughout the northern parts of Mirkwood?"

A huge smile spread across your face, and you excitedly spread your hands. "Well, duh! Gin hannon, Legolas! I'll call him..." You took the reins and looked him in the eye. "Starlight. I've always wanted a black horse called Starlight."

Blue-Eyes patted your back. "Well done, mellon. Already, Elvish is beginning to seep into your speech."

You looked at him in surprise. "I did that on purpose you dumb blond."

Legolas's eyes widened slightly. "Man?" Which you understood as, What?

You stuck your tongue out at him and crossed your eyes. "Blehlehleh!"

He recoiled. "What are you doing?"

With a laugh, you stroked Starlight's muzzle. "Messing with you. So you get up from the left side, right?"

Blue-Eyes just looked at you like you were crazy, then shook his head. "Yes, I suppose."

You went around to the left flank of the steed, which snorted suspiciously at you, like it wanted to know what the fuck you were doing. You peered at Blue-Eyes over the stallion's back. "Gimme a leg up?"

Legolas flushed and stared at you blankly. "If that is one of your vulgar insults, I swear to Illuvatar..."

A laugh escaped your throat. "No! Hell no! It means help me up, you moron!"

A sweet smile crossed Blue-Eye's features. "Well, then, come here, mellon nin, and I will aid you." He interlaced his fingers together as he bent down, allowing you to grip both ends of the saddle, step into his hand, and haul yourself up. You nearly fell off the other side, but just managed to catch yourself before you made yourself look like a complete idiot in front of Blue-Eyes, who noticed your struggle but said nothing, to your sweet relief.

Elros trotted through camp on his palomino, saying "Und wendo'hein!"

Legolas mounted his dapple-gray, and looked you up and down. "You are not sitting correctly." He told you, and reached over to pull your shoulders back. "Your shoulders need to make a line to your ankles in the stirrups."

You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Great, now you sound like my collection of Young Rider magazines."

"Your what?" Legolas looked almost offended.

"It's basically a book only about twenty pages long made of cheap paper and filled with random tidbits of information. This series I started collecting when I was eight or nine, then continued until I was about twelve, thirteen... I had a lot of them. I loved horses."

Blue-Eyes furrowed his brow. "Did you have one?"

You scoffed. "In my world, you either have to be rich like Saddle Club or own a farm like Racing Stripes. Or, by some miracle get saved by a badass black Arabian stallion on a desert island." You smiled cheekily at him. "Which, by the way, your facial structure really reminds me of an Arabian horse's. Dished, kinda. And perfect and majestic and all that shit."

Blue-Eyes just looked like he was suddenly being attacked by a pack of savage wargs and he wasn't quite sure what to do. You grinned, and did the first thing all of the books and movies you'd read as a kid had taught you: gently tap your heels into the horse's flanks, and carefully guide their head with the reins. Starlight tossed his head, eager to get moving at a faster pace, and nickered softly as he started off at a walk. Legolas beamed at you as he rode beside you. "Well well, Sairen, it seems you are a natural at riding a horse. Perhaps the blood of the Eldar is finally starting to take a hold of you."

"Not quite," Said a new voice, and Lindir rode up on a sleek bay with a mischievous smile. "Suilad, Legolas! [Y/N]! Your Elvish is improving, but you still need to learn more."

You slumped in the saddle. "Augh, man, do I have to?"

Legolas and Lindir grinned wickedly at each other. "Ai, Lindir, man í lú?"

"Ú, Legolas. Eithro, ci maer?"

"Ni maer, mellon nin, ni maer."

So for a whole five or six hours on the trip, you got bombarded on either side by Blue-Eyes and Lindir trying to teach you Sindarin. At the end of the day, the Elvenqueen asked you for another story, so you told her the first one that popped into your head that you could honestly remember most of: Alladin's Lamp. It had been your favorite fairytail as a child, and while it was meant for younger audiences, the Elves enjoyed it just as much.

Then, Thorin asked to see you again. He asked about your world, and what it was like, and you were happy to get to know them, even if you were an Elf now.

And that's how it went, for the next few weeks. Unfortunately, at some point you'd run out of memorized storybooks, so you focused on myths from various mythologies, and then, even movies. 300 seemed to be a favorite of Thorin's, who overheard, but the Elves were especially interested in Gods of Egypt and The Hunger Games, and the Jedi from Star Wars. When you ran out of that material (It was a long trip with long nights, because apparently Elves didn't really get the concept of sleep.), you even switched to games; Darksiders and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim got their attention, as did The Legend of Zelda.

But of all the damned stories you told them, they seemed most interested in Shakespeare, of all things. You only barely remembered reading Midsummer Night's Dream out of curiosity, but Romeo and Juliet, thankfully, everybody knew the gist of. Thanks to a certain Tom Hiddleston, you knew Coriolanus by heart, so that one wasn't too hard of a story to tell, and neither was (Onc you finally got them off of Shakespeare.) Pirates of the Caribbean, a classic for you, which, one of the characters, now that you thought of it... Will Turner... You couldn't quite remember his face, or Balian's from Kingdom of Heaven, which they all really liked, especially Legolas.

Eventually, the queen dubbed you Taleweaver, which you thought sounded pretty cool, but also a little nerve-wracking, because what if you ran out of stories to tell? You forced yourself to be casual. No worries. You were a writer, after all, just... Now your audience consisted of fantasy people instead of Tumblr bloggers.

No pressure.

One day, Legolas approached you alone as you groomed Starlight. "Yo," You said, s'upping him. "S'up?"

Blue-Eyes looked like you'd just thrown something at him. "Man?" You rolled your eyes. "Galu, mellon, galu. What is it?"

Legolas scoffed. "My mother has declared only a small party of us, including the dwarves, shall scout ahead and see if we can find their trail. Of the party is myself, Elros, Erestor, Haldir, and... you."

You pointed to yourself. "M...Me? The queen specifically requested me to go with you?" You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Whhhhhhyyyyyyy???"

Blue-Eyes glared at you as he stroked Starlight's muzzle. "It is nothing out of the ordinary. You wish to prove yourself to my father, do you not? I would like for you to stay in the Mirkwood as well, Sairen, so do not disappoint me."

"Well," You looked up at Starlight's face. "No pressure, right?"

Legolas smiled cheekily. "Not at all." He patted your back. "We begin at dawn tomorrow. Meet me by Starlight once you've woken, and we shall begin." He walked away, but half-turned to call out, "Do not be late!"

You nodded in exasperation, but as soon as he was gone, sighed and placed your face on Starlight's neck. "Mission," You hissed under your breath, just really wishing Lord Fabulous didn't have to be such a jackass. "Impossible."

Tag List:

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Le leich= You’re sweet

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atiny-piratequeen · 5 years ago

Text

Against the Tide: Second Voyage (Ch.2)

Pairing: Eventual Poly Ot8

Genre: Heavy Angst, Eventual Smut and Fluff mixed in

Rating: 18+

Tags: DemonPirate!Au, Supernatural, Eventual Poly Relationship, Violence, Blood, Elemental Powers, Past and Modern Day AU, Mythical Creatures, Character Death

Chapter Specific Tags: Semi-graphic Violence, Blood, and Character

Chapter WC: 8.8k

A/N: There could be tags added later, especially if there’s something I write that potentially triggers my readers. The last thing I want is for that to happen, so please don’t hesitate to give me feedback if there’s something I write here you’d like me to tag

Tag List: @coffeekpopandcookies @wonderlandsobsession

AO3 Link

Taglist

← Last Voyage Next Voyage →

=Age 7=

“I don’t like it.”

“I know, my love, but we have to, if our country is going to thrive and stay afloat.”

He stomped his foot, puffing his cheeks out as he looked at his mother. She sent him a gentle, yet patient smile, petting the top of his head. He crossed his arms, looking away defiantly.

“I don’t want a new father. I only need mother. I don’t want a new family.” He huffed. The hand petting his head stilled and she leveled him with a calm look, her bright gray eyes staring into his narrowed ones. She didn’t say a word, and after a few moments, he lowered his eyes, uncomfortable.

“You...you won’t love them any more than you love me, right?” He muttered hesitantly, biting his lip as he balled his hands up at his sides. She sent him another smile and shook her head, kissing the top of his forehead.

“I’ll never love anyone as much as I love my little Prince, Seonghwa. Now come, we have to make preparations.”

=Age 17=

“There he goes! The young prince!”

“He’s so handsome, he’ll grow into a fine man.”

“I hear he and his mother were enchanted by the gods, and that’s why the have such unusual hairs and eyes.”

“Isn’t he much too stern for a child? He’ll be old and gray in no time if he doesn’t enjoy life more.”

Seonghwa kept his head up as he and his horse trotted through the town. He’d heard the whispers for years, always the same thing. His looks, his demeanor, how he didn’t act his age. His people meant no harm by it, so he took no offence.

Besides...compared to the other prince, someone had to be the mature one.

Prince Zafer was the reason Seonghwa had ventured out of the castle in the first place. The boy, a mere year and a half older than Seonghwa, was his brother by marriage. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone who acknowledged him as the superior brother, however.

Seonghwa excelled at his studies, learning a myriad of languages under both his mother’s gentle guidance, and the strict tutelage of the king’s instructors, and earning himself a seat in the room when the king and his tactitions went over the kingdom’s next moves. He kept up with his combat training, though the king always assured him that there was no need for such a thing, with a kingdom as powerful as theirs. The blonde prince had gotten in food graces with the people of his new kingdom, often stepping out of the castle for strolls amongst them as a sign of trust and good faith, coming out without any guards to protect him.

His stepbrother, however, was his polar opposite.

Zafer cared nothing for the diplomacy that came with being the older of the two princes. He often shoved his work onto some poor unfortunate soul in the kingdom while he slipped into town to try to court the girls easily swayed by his status. Aside from the fact of him being a prince, Zafer had little else to offer anyway.

Unfortunately, the thought of being the kingdom’s princess was enough for many to ignore that small detail.

Seonghwa found Zafer where he usually did, sitting in a higher end tavern in town. Once the owner took one look at the teen prince’s unamused expression, he cleared his throat, nudging Zafer to catch his attention before the inevitable argument was to ensue, hoping they’d take it outside.

The brunette waved him off, leaning closer to kiss the had of the fair girl across from him.

“If you’d like, I’d love to take you into the castle, sometime.” He cooed, wiggling his brows at her. She blushed, giggling from behind her hand before she looked up, her eyes widening in wonder at the unhappy prince that had appeared at the foot of the table.

“I find humor in the idea of you taking someone else into the castle for a leisurely stroll when you yourself can’t go two minutes without sneaking out and neglecting your duties, Prince Zafer.” Seonghwa’s voice was even and level, but the noticeable twitch in his thick brow was enough to betray his true feelings. Zafer rolled his eyes, sending Seonghwa a sharp, disapproving look before painting a fake smile on his face.

“Ah, brother! How nice of you to join us? Would you like a drink?” He inquired, lifting up his glass. Seonghwa looked at his hand with a flat look before his frown deepened.

“I would like to not have to interrupt my studies to always fetch you.” He grunted.

“Then, by all means, don’t.” Zafer growled, dropping the act as soon as he put it up. Seonghwa shook his head, a humorless laugh leaving his lips.

“As much as I would love to not have to deal with you, I’m the only one you can’t just order away. Now let’s go. The King requires your audience.” He sighed, rubbing his temples. Zafer laughed, kicking his feet up on the table as he leaned back in his chair, the wood from both creaking in disapproval from the sudden shift in weight.

“I don’t think I will, brother. You can go in my steed, yes? Consider it an act of good will towards your beloved older brother.” He beamed. Seonghwa’s steel eyes narrowed, his jaw set as he took a moment to collect himself from the anger boiling inside of him.

The maiden noticed the rising tension and stood, shying away when Zafer turned his baffled expression towards her.

“Callista, wait-”

“A-ah, I’m sorry. You should go, Prince Zafer. I don’t wish to make Prince Seonghwa and the King feel any more burdened because of me.” She bowed her head, avoiding eye contact as she tried to dart past the two. She bumped into Seonghwa along the way, nearly tripping after her sandal broke.

In a whirlwind of motion, he grabbed her hand, catching her before she collided with anything else. He pulled her upwards, letting her go once she had regained her balance. Callista looked up, her face igniting when she was met with the younger Prince’s features up close. He let her go and looked down, noticing her broken sandal.

With a small hum, he looked towards one of the castle guards Zafer had escort him out, grabbing his attention with a curt wave.

“Yes, Prince Seonghwa?”

“Please escort this woman to her home. Make sure she gets there safe and then join us in the castle, if you would.” he instructed. The guard nodded, taking the starstruck girl by her wrist, escorting her out of the tavern.

Zafer watched her go with his jaw dropped before he leered at Seonghwa.

“What the hell are you-”

“Castle. Now. The King requests your audience. You would think you’d be the first to understand that something of that caliber leaves no room for arguments.” Seonghwa cut him off sharply, pivoting on his heel to exit the tavern, satisfied when he heard the older prince curse under his breath, following behind him with the remaining two guards he had taken out with him following in tow.

They all hopped on their respective horses, with Seonghwa taking off first in a blur of gray. His horse was a strong, gray Caspain female he had named Mars. The King had gifted Seonghwa the mare as a pony when he and his mother combined their kingdoms as a show of good faith.

There was a flurry of hoofsteps from behind him, but Seonghwa didn’t startle as Zafer and his stallion, Jupiter, caught up to Mars and himself.

“Must you always be such a killjoy, brother? Maybe if you spent less time in that stuffy library and lived a little more-”

“I’m enjoying my life just fine, Prince Zafer. I get my work done and I still have more than enough time to do the things I enjoy. You, however, I suppose I understand why you dodge your responsibilities. I’m sure if you sat down and actually did all the work you’ve left backed up for everyone else to deal with, you would never see the light of day.” Seonghwa responded without missing a beat. Zafer’s brow twitched and he frowned.

“Hey...would it kill you to send your big brother a little kindness from now and then?”

Seonghwa’s response was a gentle kick to Mars’ sides, his head straight forward as she stormed ahead of Zafer and Jupiter, leaving them in the dust.

=Age 19=

Seonghwa closed his eyes, smiling softly as delicate fingers placed a crown of flowers atop his head. When he opened his eyes, he smiled up at his mother, enjoying the way the corner of her eyes crinkled in mirth.

“The crown suits you well, Prince Seonghwa.”

“You do know best, Queen Daliah.”

She chuckled lightly and shuffled closer to him, placing her back against the tree trunk he was leaning against, looking up at the clouds rolling in the sky.

“You could have the real crown soon, you know. I doubt your father would give the crown to your brother after his repeated misadventures. You honestly are much more fit for the job.” She mused before she blinked in surprise at her own negative words towards her step son, gently smacking her mouth.

“Ah, this mouth of mine-”

“You haven’t said anything I do not agree to, mother. The King has tried for years to get Prince Zafer to stop neglecting his duties. Hell, I have tried to get him to take his position more seriously. He’ll throw a tantrum for sure if I become king over him, but it is something he’ll get over.” He hummed, his steel eyes half lidded as he watched Mars sleep in the flora not too far from them. She was seated, her gray head settled in the flowers as she rested.

“My son, will there ever come a time you see those two as more than just the King and the Prince?” Daliah inquired, turning her head to face him, tilting her head to the side. Seonghwa pursed his lips, feeling the wind sweep his bangs over his forehead.

“It feels more natural this way, mother. You know how I am with terms of endearment.” He mused, avoiding eye contact. She smiled at him and put her head on his shoulder, a gentle laugh leaving her lips.

“Ah, yes. Terms of endearment don’t come easily to you, do they, my sweet?”

Seonghwa only put his head atop of his mothers, nuzzling her once as they enjoyed the peaceful morning in the garden.

=3 Months Later=

“This is ridiculous!”

“Calm down, Zafer-”

“No! I do not understand why you’re crowning him king over me!”

Seonghwa stood in the throne room with his hands behind his back, his jaw set and his eyes straight forward as Zafer threw a tantrum. The King sighed, shaking his head while Queen Daliah frowned deeply.

“Son please-”

“Don’t interrupt me, the men are talking.” He snapped. Daliah’s brow pinched together in displeasure and there was the sound of something cutting through the air.

Suddenly, Zafer had the curved blade of one of the family’s signature falcata swords pressed against his throat. He froze, snapping his eyes to the left to meet Seonghwa’s infuriated steel gaze.

“You can run your mouth for hours about the ‘unfairness’ of the King not giving you the crown, but raise your voice at my mother once more and I’ll cut you down before you can finish your sentence.” He snarled. Zafer sneered at him, backing off to rub his neck, frowning when he felt the spot of blood from Seonghwa’s sharp blade.

“Pardon me, you can imagine I’m displeased with my younger, stepbrother getting the crown over me, a native to this kingdom.” He growled through gritted teeth. Seonghwa didn’t sheath his falcata, instead sharpening his gaze at the shorter prince.

“Say what you will about my blood, but my talents far surpass your own when it comes to ruling this kingdom. If you were to become the king of this kingdom, we’d fall. You have done nothing but slack off and eat off your silver platter all of your life, I would have no confidence with you as my ruler.” He spat, putting his sword back in its sheath with more force than necessary.

“Seonghwa, Zafer, please don’t fight. The princess is coming soon and-”

“If being the king means I have to marry that woman, you might as well make this one the king. I’ve visited her lands, I know the practices over there. Combining our kingdoms will only spawn chaos. Our lands have opened fair trade with the neighboring countries and we’ve made a name for ourselves for being a safe haven for travellers. What do you think will happen if you bring in another land with the polar opposite way of conducting business?” He snapped, turning his furious gaze to the King.

“Son, this is a good opportunity to distribute wealth-”

“You would look me in the eyes and lie like this?”

The king pursed his lips and Seonghwa shook his head.

“I wouldn’t do business with them under normal circumstances, now you’re asking us to combine our kingdoms and split rule with those brutish people? The streets would run red if you let them stick their hand into our affairs.”

Zafer tutted from behind him, swaggering up to the front once more.

“See, father? Seonghwa is much too afraid to see what a good opportunity this is. You should reconsider and make me king instead. I hear Princess Valentina is a real catch~” He cheered, seemingly in good spirits once more. Seonghwa scoffed, crossing his arms as he cast a glance at his step brother.

“T'es rien qu'un petit connard.” He huffed flatly, looking away when Zafer sent him a look.

“I don’t know what you just said, but it sounds like an insult.”

“If you studied more than how to chase maidens, you would know.”

Zafer opened his mouth to argue, but Seonghwa turned his back on the trio, shaking his head.

“If you care at all about the future of this kingdom, you’ll call off the wedding. I refuse to marry that woman.” He told them sharply before he exited, the tails of his royal robes flapping from the motion as he left.

The King and Queen exchanged looks with one another while Zafer watched him leave, a scowl on his face.

=2 Days Later=

“Can you believe him? Born with a chip on his shoulder, that one. Turning down Princess Val for something as trivial as that? Is he mad? We’re royalty, if we lose a few commoners in the crossfire, does it matter?” Zafer grunted, on his third glass of whine as he sat across from some of his men and some men from Valentina’s kingdom.

“The Princess is very disheartened by his behaviour. I doubt he’ll see our side in this matter, Prince Zafer. So what are we to do?” the largest man-a direct consultant of Valentina’s-inquired. The look on his scarred face was clearly implicating something nefarious, but it didn’t quite reach Zafer’s muddled brain.

“I told father to just let me be King. It’s my birthright.” He huffed, slamming the glass down on the table. The guards frowned, exchanging a look with one another while Valentina’s men smiled darkly. The leader, the scarred man named Franco, tilted his chin upwards.

“Then reclaim your birthright. We’d be more than excited to help. Consider it the beginning of our business partnership, yes?” He extended his hand. Zafer looked at his hand, furrowing his brow.

“What are you implying?”

“You kill your brother. You’re not even related by blood, yes? Once he’s out of the way, we can make sure the crown is on your head, King Zafer.” He cooed, arching a brow and nodding at his hand. Zafer looked back at his hand before he smiled, reaching out.

The guard beside him grabbed his shoulder, eyes wide.

“Your majesty, this is absurd. Prince Seonghwa is your brother.” he tried to reason with him, but Franco laughed, loud and booming.

“Oh? You take advice from lesser guards, too? Does the blonde prince do this, too? When will you ever step out of Seonghwa’s shadow?”

Zafer’s lip curled and he reached out aggressively, shaking Fraco’s hand.

“There won’t be any shadow if he’s dead.” he grunted before he turned towards the guards.

“You keep your mouths shut. If I find out either of you said a word, I’ll wipe your entire bloodline from this earth, mark my words.” He threatened. They cowered, noticing Valentina’s men shared the same threatening intensity in their eyes.

From a table over, a man set down his glass of water, a hum leaving his throat. Across from him, another man put his cheek in his hand, a knowing look on his face as he observed his companion.

“You have that look in your eyes, Captain.”

“Go back to The Utopia alone, Daniel. I have business to tend to tonight.”

There was a light chuckle.

“Of course you do, Cap’n.”

=Later=

“Are you absolutely mad? Are you drunk? Who do you think you are waltzing up to the castle like this?!”

Hongjoong sighed, running his hand through the back of his hair as he looked at the guards at the gate. They had scoffed at him when he requested conference with ‘whoever the prince is that isn’t a traitor’.

“Ah, how bothersome. I just wanted to give your prince a warning. There’s a storm coming and I figured I’d warn him before something terrible happens.” He mused, talking to himself more than the guards. They leered at the pirate, reaching for their falcatas to forcibly make him leave when the sounds of hooves approached.

The three of them looked behind Hongjoong, watching as a handsome blonde man approached on a beautiful gray horse.

“Woah, Mars.”

The mare stopped in front of Hongjoong, snorting slightly before she sniffed at him, curious. Hongjoong blinked at her before reaching out, smiling when she nuzzled his hand. The man on top watched him with careful steel eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Kim Hongjoong. Captain of The Utopia.”

“Your clothes...a pirate, I presume?” Seonghwa inquired, noticing all the affection Mars was giving the stranger. It was curious, since she often didn’t like contact with anyone other than himself and his mother, aside from a few stable hands.

“You can say that, yes.” Hongjoong was honest, putting his hands behind his head as he looked up at Seonghwa. The guards drew their falcatas in an instant, pointed at his back.

“You didn’t say that, you bastard! Are you suffering from some kind of madness? What business would a pirate have near the kingdom except to steal?!”

“I told you, because I heard some drunk lad in the tavern in port talking about murdering a prince and becoming king.” He snapped, clearly unamused. Seonghwa’s brows went up for a moment before his face quickly masked the look when Hongjoong turned back to him.

“Let him in. I’ll listen to his words. Come, pirate.” He gently pet Mars’ back and dismounted from her, nodding in the direction of the garden.

“Prince Seonghwa-”

“Take Mars to her stables. If anything goes awry, I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

The guards sighed and nodded, taking the reins and leading her off while Hongjoong followed Seonghwa to the garden. They stopped in front of a tree with beautiful white flowers that rustled with the leaves in the night breeze. Seonghwa inhaled and turned, looking down at Hongjoong, who seemed more interested in the beautiful flowers at his feet.

“Speak. Why are you really here? I can not fathom any reason a pirate would make up such a tall tale unless you thought you could sway my family or I for some form of monetary gain.”

Hongjoong lifted his gaze and rolled his eyes. Seonghwa bristled from the move, but waited for an answer.

“I have no interest in lying. I do not have any interest in swindling, either, lad. I may be a pirate, and I could care less if you believe me, but I am different than whatever your connotation of what that title means. If I would steal from a royal family, I wouldn’t be so brazen to walk up to the gates like some kind of fool.” He grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. Seonghwa pursed his lips, watching him carefully.

“So-”

“So, I was in the tavern, and this lad was talking-rather loudly-about how he couldn’t believe Prince Seonghwa-you, I presume-would turn down some marriage proposal. He was with some thuggish looking goons and they said something about a princess not being happy. The gist of it is, they want your head, mate. What you do with this information is your own business, but I know I’d lose sleep if I didn’t even give you a fair warning. Heavens know those guards won’t be telling you any time soon, not with the threat of ‘their entire bloodline’ being wiped out.” Hongjoong told him, stretching his arms.

“That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. I guess watch your back around that one, mate. He seems to think more with pride than any rational thoughts in his mind.”

Seonghwa reviewed him for a long moment before he closed his eyes, processing what he was told.

When he opened them, he nodded behind Hongjoong.

“Very well. If that is all, I’ll see you out, pirate.”

“Much appreciated.”

Hongjoong sent Seonghwa one glance over his shoulder before he started making his way down to the port, his hands behind his head. He hummed, thinking of ways he could expand his crew now when he heard a whistle from his left.

Pausing, he looked in the direction of the sound, finding a woman shrouded in a cloak beckoning him over to a dark spot between two buildings. He looked around before pointing to himself. When she nodded, walked closer cautiously.

“Do you need something, ma’am?” He inquired, tilting his head as he stopped a few feet away from her. She nodded, lowering her hood to look at him, her beautiful blonde hair secured in a fishtail braid that disappeared down into her cloak. One look at her, and Hongjoong had a feeling his night was going to get a lot more complicated.

“I heard your claims from the guards regarding my sons. Can you please tell me yourself? I’d like to hear it from you, since you came to my castle, stranger.” She whispered. Hongjoong nodded, explaining once more what he heard in the tavern.

When he was finished, she had tears in her eyes, but she shook her head, standing straighter as she looked up at him.

“May I ask for a burdensome task?” She inquired, looking around to make sure no one was near or passing. Hongjoong nodded once, unable to deny a mother looking so close to being frantic.

“Please...until your ship is to sail out of these ports and leave these waters, can you please protect my son? The prince-Seonghwa-is my first and only born child and I...I would sooner give my life than have Zafer harm him over this. Please...I don’t want to lose him. Until I can come up with a permanent solution, take this, and help my son.” She urged, pushing a velvet pouch into his hands. Hongjoong could tell from the weight of it, there was gold inside.

“Wait, I don’t-”

“Please. I don’t have the strength to protect him, but you...you can. Please.” She pleaded, close to falling to her knees to beg. Hongjoong stopped her, squeezing her hands.

“I...I’ll do my best, Ma’am.”

She smiled at him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before she took his hands in hers.

“Thank you, stranger. Thank you. In the event that anything goes awry, horns will be sounded. I pray we won’t need them, but if we do, please make haste to the castle and take my son and I aboard, alright? I’d sooner flee this country than have my son lose his life from it’s kingdom’s betrayal.”

Hongjoong nodded, his brow pinched up in worry.

How the hell did he get himself in this situation?

=3 Days Later=

The sound of glass shattering abruptly woke Seonghwa up in the middle of the night. His eyes narrowed in the darkness as screams flooded the halls, followed by shouting and more crashing.

He threw himself out of bed, grabbing his falcata in an instant, eyes narrowed.

Could it be…?

His musing was interrupted by something banging on his door. His grip on his falcata tightened as he watched the door.

“Seonghwa! Baby! Please, we must run!”

His heart thumped against his chest as he briskly crossed the room, throwing open the door to look at his mother. She huffed, holding her bloodied side as she looked up at him. His eyes widened.

“Mother-”

“We have to run. Zafer...he..he’s teamed up with Valentina’s men and they-” She trembled, a faraway look in her eyes as she recalled watching them slay her husband. Seonghwa noticed the extra blood on her gown and swallowed down the question at the tip of his tongue.

“You, are you harmed, too?” He inquired. She nodded, looking down at the gash at her side before she shook her head and pulled him out of the room, rushing down the hallway.

“It’s small, they sliced me when I made a move to escape. We have to escape...I...I asked for aid days ago in the event that this happened. The horns were sounded, we just have to make it to port.” She hastily told him. He frowned, opening his mouth to ask her what she meant when there was the sound of a blade dragging against the ground. They stopped, watching as one of Valentina’s men rounded the corner. He paused, tilting his head as he raised his blade, eyes narrowed.

“Look what we found. You made this so much more messy than it needed to be, lady. All we wanted was the blonde, now the King is dead and we have to kill you, as well.” he sighed, shaking his head. Seonghwa drew his falcata, his lips curled into a snarl.

“You can only try. I hope you have made your peace to whatever gods you pray to.” He barked, rushing down the hall. His mother jolted, watching both sides of the hall in worry as her son clashed with the man.

The man’s fighting style was wild. He relied on broad, powerful swings that left him open to attack. Seonghwa blocked whatever came his way with his free hand, using his falcata to block the moves while he swung his long legs, kicking in the man’s knee. He barked in surprise and Seonghwa swung his hand back, unphased by the blood that came out as the man’s arm suddenly dropped, detached from his body.

His eyes widened and he screamed. Seonghwa kicked him in the chest, eyes forward as he slammed the blade down, silencing the screams in an instant.

His mother rushed up to him as he snatched the blade out, wiping his bloody face with shaky hands. He sent her an apologetic look at the sight before taking her hand again, rushing in the direction of the stairs.

“There he is! Get him!”

Seonghwa gently pushed his mother aside, taking off once more to fight the next three men they encountered. She bit her lip, watching her son fight in a flurry of motion, rage on his bloodied face. Seonghwa plunged the curved sword into one man’s chest, snatching it out in an instant to turn and elbow another in the face.

The third man charged him, pushing him all the way into the wall. They exchanged blows, punching one another until their lips were busted open. Queen Daliah rushed up to the men with a vase in her hand, smashing it over his head to disorient him while Seonghwa pushed him into the final man, making him accidentally stab him.

The Queen pulled a dagger from her gown, stabbing the man in the neck as he struggled to pull his sword free. Seonghwa watched the men fall and looked at his mother, frowning at the hysteric look in her eyes as she struggled not to break down.

“Mother...I’m sorry, let’s go.” He pulled the sword out of the dead man’s hands and turned to the end of the hall, gritting his teeth. He could feel his mother’s footsteps start to slow behind him as she struggled to keep up. She wasn’t used to running at all, especially not in intense conditions like these, and he imagined the rush of fighting for her life was beginning to tire her out.

“Ah, where are we going?”

They reached the stairway, stopping in their tracks when the large form of Valentina’s consultant sauntered into view. Franco tutted in disapproval, sending the dual wielding prince a look.

“Oh? Is that for me? I hope you know how to use those.”

“Take another step towards my mother and I and you’ll find out.” He spat. Franco’s brows went up in faux surprise before he chuckled, taking a dramatic step forward.

“Showtime, pretty boy.”

The two of them ran at each other, and Queen Daliah bit her lip, looking around for something she could use to help. Franco was larger than the other guards, and looked leagues more brutish than them, to boot. She was intimidated by the idea of getting anywhere near him.

As she looked around, she noticed a blur outside the window, her eyes lighting up when the familiar form of the pirate she asked to help, along with some other people, rushing into the courtyard.

“They’re coming! They’re coming to help!” She turned, eyes widening when she saw Zafer approaching Seonghwa from behind as he busied himself with Franco. There was a falcata in his hand, as well, and from the runes etched into the blade, she could tell it was his father’s.

“No!” She screamed, pulling her dagger out and rushing over to the fight, swinging at him. It drew the attention of all three men and Zafer stumbled, moving to stop her by grabbing her hand.

“You murderer! I won’t let you take him!” She screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried to wrestle her hand free. Seonghwa turned to intervene, but Franco took the opportunity, slashing wildly at his face.

The prince barked in pain, shuffling away. Zafer pushed the queen away, swinging haphazardly in an attempt to slice Seonghwa’s chest open. He missed, but the broad cut went through the blonde prince’s night shirt, gashing open his shoulder.

Franco readied himself for another strike, lifting his blade and thrusting with all his might at Seonghwa.

“SEONGHWA!”

The blonde was hit in the side by his mother’s body, all but pushing him down the stairs as she shoved him. He tumbled down the carpeted stairs, nearly dropping his falcata in the process. When he looked up, his eyes widened, horror etching itself on his face as he saw his mother at the top of the stairs, her arms holding onto Franco’s blade as she stared defiantly at him, blood running down the corner of her lips, the sword going though and through her body.

“No...no no, MOTHER NO!” he screamed. She shook her head, taking one of her blood stained hands to wave him off when he moved to get up and rush back up the stairs.

“G-go...run...find the pirate. Stay with him...please…” She coughed and Franco clicked his tongue in annoyance, snatching the blade out in one fluid motion. She cried out, falling to her knees before she sent Seonghwa a look over her shoulder.

“Run, mon bébé, live for me.” She told him, tears rolling down her cheeks before she collapsed. Seonghwa shook from his spot, looking up as Zafer approached the stairs, looking down at the lifeless body of his stepmother. He rolled his shoulder and stepped over her.

“Kill him.”

“Merde,” Seonghwa cursed, getting to his feet and rushing down the stairs as the two closed in on him. He tried to focus on navigating through the castle while losing copious amounts of blood. The prince made a hard left, cursing again when he noticed this was a dead end hallway.

“Son of a bitch-”

“Language unbecoming of a king. Ah, wait, nevermind.” Franco chuckled, lingering behind Zafer as the two closed in. Seonghwa ignored him in lieu of leering at Zafer.

He huffed, blood smeared on his face as he shook his head, still backing away from the duo. There was a sizable slice in his cheek, steel eyes full of tears he refused to shed,his heart thundering in his chest.

“Why?” He spat, pressing his back against the wall, the blonde hairs at the back of his head matted to the back of his neck. He held his falcata up, despite the blood running between his fingers. He could feel his arm scream in protest from the action, but he ignored it.

There was a humorless chuckle across from him.

“It’s just business, Seonghwa. You understand, right?" Zafer inquired, holding up the late king’s royal falcata in defiance.

Seonghwa’s lip curled up, pushing himself off of the wall as the sound of their footsteps closed in on him.

“Oh, I understand just fine, brother.” He spat the word out like a curse.

Zafer sneered at him, rushing forward, Franco moved to follow, but there was a tap at his shoulder, drawing his attention away. He turned, looking down to find a brunette stranger looking at him.

“Who the hell-”

The man didn’t verbally say a word, pressing his palm to his chest with a spark of malice in his eyes.

“That woman didn’t deserve what you did to her.”

Seonghwa and Zafer exchanged blows as the end of the hall erupted into fire. The princes paused, eyes widened at the sudden fire trapping them in the hall. Seonghwa gritted his teeth, using the distraction to hit Zafer with the butt end of his sword. He reeled back, holding his nose as Seonghwa stabbed him in the thigh, bringing him to his knees.

“All of this...all of this for what? For what?!” Seonghwa snarled. Zafer tried to swing the stolen falcata, but Seonghwa kicked him in the jaw, stepping on his chest as he looked down at him.

“Because, Prince Seonghwa...this kingdom is my birthright. Not yours.” He hissed defiantly.

“Then burn down with it, you would have done so as it’s king, anyway.” he spat, driving the falcata down right over Zafer’s heart.

He stood there, his eyes closed with his hands on the hilt of his falcata, waiting for the lick of the flames to meet him in the center of the hall. He had no energy to run and any attempt to hurl himself out of the window to safety would probably kill him, anyway.

He noticed the heat in the room drop, and opened his eyes, looking down the hall where the fire was to find the pirate from before, approaching him with his eyes downcast.

“I...I wasn’t fast enough. They stopped us through the town and at the gates and I...I’m sorry.” he muttered. Seonghwa looked at him without a word.

“Why are you here, pirate?” His voice was tired, and Hongjoong didn’t blame him with the ordeal he’d went through.

“She...the Queen asked me to protect you. Bang up job, I did. I’m sorry. Here-” He reached into his pocket, passing the velvet pouch to Seonghwa. The prince looked at him, eyes narrowed.

“My mother paid you-”

“I didn’t want to take the money, mate. In fact, I haven’t opened it since she handed it to me. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” He sighed. Seonghwa looked at the pouch in his hand, a dazzling shade of emerald. His mother’s favorite color.

He opened it, finding gold pieces within it, but at the very top was a small, folded up piece of paper. He opened it, his shoulders dropping when he realized it was his mother’s handwriting.

‘My sweet, if you’re reading this, you must have made it successfully to the man I hired to protect you. Regardless of what happens, you must flee this kingdom. If this message reaches you, know that Valentina and Zafer will start a war with us. Please, flee. I heard their plans though our guards on this night, and I fear for your life. Do not die for this country. Live for me, please, my sweet.

I may not be with you, if you’re reading this. But I will always love you.’

Seonghwa clenched his fist, the paper nearly tearing as tears rolled down his cheeks. Hongjoong watched as he leaned down, picking up the royal falcata on the ground beside Zafer’s body. He stumbled, dizzy from blood loss as he turned towards Hongjoong.

“I see this kingdom has nothing for me, pirate. My mother paid you to take me aboard your ship. If I don’t bleed out before we get to port, I’d like to leave this land and never look back.” He grunted. Hongjoong noticed the excessive amounts of blood smeared all over Seonghwa and the way he swayed with every step and nodded, putting one of the taller man’s arms over his shoulder as he lead the way.

=Later=

“He’s bled a lot lot, Cap’n. I don’t think he’ll make it.” Mina frowned, looking up at Hongjoong as she observed Seonghwa on one of their tables. Seonghwa groaned as she tightened the bandages, cracking his eyes open.

"I...appreciate the help. I am sorry for burdening you." He groaned. Hongjoong looked down at his form, overcome with guilt.

He wasn't fast enough to save both Seonghwa and Queen Daliah, but he could save Seonghwa now.

"Mina, can you step out for me?" He inquired. She looked up at him before looking over at Daniel, who was in the doorway. Daniel nodded, knowing full well where this was going.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n." She nodded and stood, sending Seonghwa a look before she left the room. Hongjoong sat in her place, looking down at Seonghwa.

"My biggest blunder in this world is not being able to save my mother from her illness." He started. Seonghwa's brows furrowed, looking up at him in confusion. Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair.

"My second is not being able to save your mother. I...can't take back the past, but I can save you." He told him. Seonghwa closed his eyes, letting his head thump against the table.

"Are pirates normally this hospitable to those close to death?"

"I can't speak for others."

Seonghwa's lips quirked.

"You don't need to fill me with false hope, pirate. You have no obligations to me."

Hongjoong paused for a moment before he reached into his boot, pulling out a dagger.

"I may not have one to you, but I do to your mother." He murmured, cutting open his thumb. Seonghwa opened his beautiful gray eyes again, brow furrowing when he felt the prick of Hongjoong's blade against hand.

"What are you-"

"Forgive me, but I'd never live with myself if I let another mother down in this world. And that's...a very long time to not live with myself." He mused, pressing his bloodied thumb to Seonghwa's.

At first, nothing happened, and Hongjoong felt his heart sink. Was Hyuna lying when she said he could give others immortality?

Before he could panic, Seonghwa let out a small gasp, his eyes glinting before he let out a groan, passing out. Hongjoong blinked in surprise, expecting an explosion of power like when he was turned.

"Well that was fast." An unfamiliar voice startled him and he looked up, finding a blonde man leaning in the doorway. Hongjoong bristled, a swirl of water circling around him and Seonghwa as he leered at the man.

"Who-"

"Relax, relax. Hyuna sent me to check up on you. Kind of a hassle when you're on the move, but I made it." He leaned over, looking at Seonghwa in interest.

"Apparently not a minute too soon, eh?"

"Hyuna...sent you?"

"Aye. My name is Dawn. I'm the first one she's ever turned. Ah, unrelated, but we're lovers, as well." He beamed proudly. Hongjoong relaxed and Dawn entered the cabin.

"You are wondering why he's not showing signs of what power you gave to him, yes?" Dawn inquired, satisfied when Hongjoong nodded at him.

“The full moon is the key. When you’re turned, you get your powers fully when the moon is highest in the sky on a night of the full moon. Judging from the sky when I came in-” Dawn hummed, leaning against the frame.

“It’ll be weeks before whatever power you shared with him actually take effect. For the time being, he’s just an immortal with power lying dormant inside of him. Which is good for you, since Hyuna left out some important things when she turned you.”

“Like what?”

“When the moon is high and your powers are ready, your demonic self takes over, and any strong force of negativity will try to take hold. Your powers will go wild if you don’t learn to control them and control both the ‘current’ you and the ‘demonic’ you. I imagine this one is going to create a mess when the moon is full, with all the negativity in him.” Dawn pointed at Seonghwa before he rolled his shoulder.

“I’ll give you something, one from Hyuna and one from myself.” he walked over, putting his hand on top of Hongjoong’s head. There was a small pulse of light before he hummed, observing him.

“What did you do?” Hongjoong inquired.

“From now on, when you share your powers, a mark will appear on the person you shared with. It’ll help you figure out who has what power. Well, if you know what you’re looking for.” he mused, smiling at the flat look Hongjoong gave him.

“Anyway, Hyuna gave me a message, too. If you’re ever in trouble, know she’ll be watching over you with a murder of crows.”

“Murder of crows?”

“Mm. Though they may not be actual birds.”

“God, can you demons be any more vague?”

“I mean...yes? Also, you’re a demon now too, so...”

Hongjoong leered at him and Dawn turned, hiding a laugh behind his hand.

“Anyway, make sure you’re careful when you turn people. Don’t wanna get an overly negative demon turned on a full moon, yknow? They could very well sink this ship if you can’t stop them and tame them.” he informed him before he winked over his shoulder, disappearing in a small puff of smoke.

Hongjoong rubbed his temples and shook his head, letting it fall onto the table beside Seonghwa’s body so he could finally rest.

What a long night.

=~=

“So, one more time for me,” Seonghwa laughed, looking over at Hongjoong as the young captain rubbed his temples, unnamused.

“I’m a demon. I saved your life by performing a blood pact with you. You’re like me now, an immortal. And on the next full moon, you’re demonic powers will awaken.”

Seonghwa snorted, but Daniel only nodded from beside Hongjoong.

“Take your bandages off, then.” He urged him, waving a hand. “There’s no way your wounds would have healed overnight without some form of magics, yes?” he hummed, sending Hongjoong a wink when the younger man sent him a thankful smile.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and moved to take the bandage off of his cheek, running his fingers over the skin there.

Smooth.

He blinked, eyes wide as he touched his face firmly, lips parting when he felt a distinct lack of a gash there. Hell, he didn't feel any pain, either.

He tore his shirt off, pulling at his bandages until they were off, lips parting as he looked at his shoulder, uninjured and fully functioning without a persistent spark of pain.

"What the hell did you do-"

Hongjoong rolled his eyes.

"Maybe I should've just let him pass peacefully. For my sanity." He grunted, standing up.

"If you're feeling better, then, get up and follow me. From now on, you're part of my crew. Everyone has to pull their own weight and a lot of people helped you escape, Prince Seonghwa, not just me." He informed him. Seonghwa's lip curled.

"Don't call me Prince anymore."

"Fair enough. Let's get to work then, Seonghwa."

"I still have questions."

"I'll answer them after you swab the deck."

=2 Weeks Later=

"They're at it again?" Psy hummed, watching as Seonghwa and Hongjoong bickered. Seonghwa had gotten into the habit of calling Hongjoong 'petit putois' idly and it often made the small demon bristle.

"What does that mean?!"

"Non, if I tell you, it wouldn't be fun, now would it?"

"All I know is, you called me small, didnt you?"

Seonghwa's lips twitched, humming as he looked away. He often mulled around the ship, lost in his own thoughts with a clenched jaw, but something about Hongjoong made some of the tension in his shoulders loosen.

"I don't know. Is that what that means?"

"Listen-"

The two went back at it and Daniel smiled, crossing his arms.

"They look good together." He mused, watching Seonghwa stroll away from their slightly annoyed captain. Psy tilted his head, a fond look in his eyes.

"Ah yes, they remind me of a certain two people when they crossed paths." He replied, glancing at Daniel. The man smiled, closing his eyes.

"I do suppose they share some qualities."

=~The Night of the Full Moon~=

Hongjoong was restless, pacing as he stood on the deck with Seonghwa. He checked his watch, unsure of when exactly the moon was the highest.

"What exactly are we waiting for?" Seonghwa inquired, looking towards Hongjoong. Hongjoong stood across from him, holding out both of his hands. In one, was a ball of wind, the other held a plume of fire.

"I gave you one of my powers when I turned you. Tonight is the night you get them fully according to Dawn. I have to help you control them, so your demon self doesn't destroy my ship."

Seonghwa nodded, looking at his hands.

"I feel fine, though."

Hongjoong shook his hands, making both balls of elemental magic disappear before he focused on Seonghwa.

The clouds obscuring the moon rolled past and Hongjoong felt the night air dip into a chill.

Seonghwa froze, his brows twitching.

"What-" he stopped himself, clenching his shirt as he fell to his knees. Hongjoong cursed, quickly making his way over to him as snow began to fall from the sky.

"Seonghwa-"

"Don't touch me."

He stopped in his tracks, watching the blonde of Seonghwa's hair bleed into an inky black that rivaled even Hyuna's. Seonghwa trembled, a low, pained laugh leaving his throat as he hunched over.

Hongjoong shook his head and continued approaching the ex prince as the snow turned into hail.

"Talk to me? Are you in pain?"

"I don't need your help. I don't need anyone."

Seonghwa lifted his head and Hongjoong noticed the gray of his eyes was a snow white color. There were ruby marks going down his face, from above his brows to the middle of his cheeks like gashes, and when his lips curled up in a snarl, Hongjoong noticed their bloody red color.

Seonghwa growled at their proximity and swung, shards of ice flying full speed at Hongjoong. He flinched at first, but threw up his hand, a wall of fire melting the shards before he frowned.

"Seonghwa, calm down."

"Cap'n! The sea is freezin!'" a crew member cried out from behind him. Hongjoong noticed the ship slowing and looked back at Seonghwa, who had began to cry, cursing in several languages as he swayed.

"Gone, gone, she's gone. I don't need anyone anymore. No one. Stay away from me. Don't touch me." He mumbled. Hongjoong shook his head and approached him again, ignoring the next shard of ice that flew his way and the way it cut into his cheek.

"No. Stay away. Get away from me. I don't need you! I don't need anyone!" He barked, a circle of ice swirling around them.

"Hongjoong, he's gonna destroy the hull if the ice keeps forming!" Daniel barked from above. Hongjoong only nodded, continuing to close in on Seonghwa.

"She would be sad to hear you say that, wouldn't she, matey?"

Seonghwa bristled, the ice closing in around them as he turned his furious gaze at Hongjoong.

"You know nothing of my mother!"

"I know she was a beautiful queen with a beautiful soul and with her last days she wanted nothing more than for her son to live. Is isolating yourself a way to live? Would she be happy knowing you're pushing everyone away?"

"I do not need anyone! The last time I trusted someone, he killed my only blood related family left and tried to kill me!"

"The last time you trusted someone, he took you aboard this ship and gave you another chance at life."

Seonghwa's chest heaved as he stared at Hongjoong, the ice around them thickening.

"You...you'll just-"

"You can wound me with this ice, but if you compare me to that coward of a prince, I'll set you ablaze myself."

Hongjoong's eyes were adamant as he stopped in front of Seonghwa. The older man stared at him, tears rolling down his marked cheeks. Hongjoong extended a hand to him.

"It's okay to lean on someone again, Seonghwa. We're not him. We're an honest family. You're here now. I won't let anything else happen to you."

Seonghwa looked at his hand before he stepped into his space, his feet at either side of Hongjoong's. He pulled him into a hug, sobbing against his shoulder as the smaller demon closed his eyes.

The ice crumbled, melting away as Seonghwa relaxed, the demon side of him no longer raging. Hongjoong continued to rub his back, standing at the center of the deck with him.

=The Next Day=

"I'm sorry. It was unbecoming of me to-"

"Stop apologizing. It's not your style."

"Just let me apologize, I put the crew in danger-"

"Seonghwa."

Hongjoong stopped abruptly, turning to send Seonghwa a small, tired smile. He had stayed up all night to ensure Seonghwa didn't have another episode, and fatigue was clear on his features.

"You worry too much. It's alright. I'd do anything for my crew." He pointed to the small compass-shaped mark on Seonghwa's right wrist. It matched the one on his left, though the needle pointed in different directions.

"Just take care of yourself and remember to lean on us from now on, okay?" He urged. Seonghwa hummed and nodded.

"Right...I understand. Thank you, mon petit putois."

"No problem- wait. You added a word this time. What does that mean?!"

Seonghwa smiled and walked past him.

"Just a term of endearment, all for you, Captain."

=Months Later=

Seonghwa ran a hand through his hair as he entered Hongjoong's room, finding him looking at maps once again.

"Captain, you should be sleeping. Staying up late to look at the same old maps is the reason you're so exhausted." He told him. Hongjoong shook his head, pointing to one point one of them.

"I was told this area is rich in resources. We can head here after we leave the next stop-" he was cut off by Seonghwa pulling the maps away from him.

"Tomorrow. You can look at them tomorrow. Go to sleep, putois."

Hongjoong rolled his eyes.

"You're never gonna tell me what that means, are you?"

"Tomorrow, if you sleep right now."

"Lying doesn't suit you."

Seonghwa laughed, a smile coming to his face as he looked down at the seated captain. Hongjoong shook his head, despite the smile on his face as he made his way to his bed. Seonghwa followed him, shrugging off his jacket as he watched Hongjoong haphazardly toss aside his shirt.

"Eyeballing your captain? I didn't realize my new First Mate was such a hound." Hongjoong teased, turning to face Seonghwa. The blonde pirate idly ran his tongue across his lips.

"Daniel gave me this position because I'm a capable person for the job. Besides, I haven't heard you complain about this hound yet, Captain Hongjoong." He teased, crowding against Hongjoong. The brunette bit back the witty comeback he had in lieu of pulling Seonghwa in for a kiss, pulling them into his bed.

"You talk too much. Either kiss me, or shut up and go to sleep."

Seonghwa smirked against his lips, their noses brushing against each other.

"Aye, aye, Captain~"

#fie writes #Against the Tide #kwritersworldnet #AtT Ch2 #ateez fic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #member x member #ateez ot8 fic

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 5 years ago

Text

Misty Forester

Name:

Misty Selene Forester (Rodriguez)

Born:

April 10th, 1873 (Aries)

Age: 24 in RDO events, 25 in the main game, 33 in the epilogue

Birthplace: Manhattan, New York City, New York

Notable Characteristics:

Long brown hair

Bright green eyes

Plump red lips

Black, red, and white color scheme

Fashionable, will always make sure she looks good even if she’s wearing a potato sack

Sassy af

Vocally talented

Other Info:

Half Puerto Rican, 1/4 English and 1/4 French.

Bisexual, known to openly flirt with both men and women

Skills:

Sharpshooter

Persuasive speaker

Skilled actor

Weapons:

Duel wielding custom Mauser pistols

Lancaster Repeater

Carcano Rifle

Hunting Knife

Family:

Arella Forester (Mother)

Luis Rodriguez (Father, unknown whereabouts)

Marie Forester (twin sister, deceased)

Background:

Misty is the child of immigrant parents. Her mother, Arella, is from England and is the daughter of a successful French businessman and an English woman whose own family came from their own wealth. Arella was set to be married to a man who too came from a rich family. Arella was unhappy with this, stole some money from her parents and managed to escape to America for better opportunities. Despite her parents search, she managed to avoid them. She settled down in New York City. There she met Luis, a man who escaped his own home, once living in extreme poverty in Puerto Rico. They bonded and quickly formed a relationship, and Arella soon found herself pregnant.

Before Misty and Marie were born, Luis received word that his mother back in Puerto Rico had fallen ill. He didn’t want to leave his love and their soon to be children, but he had no choice. He managed to get back to PR and would often send letters. Arella kept him up to to date with everything, eagerly waiting his return. However after the twins were born, the letters stopped coming.

A couple of years passed and Arella gave up hope that Luis would return, wondering if he perished or just stopped caring. Either way, she had her daughters to take care of and did her best to raise them. The funds she once nicked from her parents’ fortune allowed her to provide her and her daughters a comfortable living situation.

All the money in the world however did not prevent Marie from getting sick. She became infected with Cholera at the age of five and despite the aggressive medical care, she ended up passing away.

Both Misty and Arella were heartbroken. They stayed in NYC for another six years, and decided to move south, relocating to another city known as Saint Denis. Arella, having grown up around French culture, felt right at home. Misty missed NYC, but soon fell in love with the grandeur of Saint Denis and often wandered around, marveling the well-dressed citizens and enjoying the entertainment. She soon realized she wanted to become a singer, seeking out a vocal trainer whom she learned from for a few years. She also hung around the theaters, speaking with performers and learning tips and techniques on not only singing, but acting as well.

Little did she know that it would come in handy one day. At the age of 16, her grandparents ended up in Saint Denis for a vacation when they ran into Arella by accident. The reunion was explosive, and a lot of shouts and curses were exchanged before everything calmed down. Misty did not know that her mother ran away years ago, and she never heard much about her grandparents except for that they lived in the UK. Despite the tension held, her grandparents absolutely loved her and wanted to keep in touch. Sometime after, she was kidnapped by a gang of outlaws. Somehow word had gotten out she was the granddaughter of a wealthy family, and their intention was to hold her for ransom.

She was with them for three weeks, having to endure their vulgarity. They gave her the bare minimum, feeding her bread rolls and making her sleep on the ground, knowing she would do no good if she got sick or injured. Despite how afraid she was, Misty managed to form a plan, carefully learning their mannerisms and how they interacted with others. She managed to escape without inflicting violence, using her charm and learned acting skills to weasel her way out. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea where she was.

No longer was she in the state of Lemoyne, instead finding out she was in a completely different state called West Elizabeth. With nothing but the clothes on her back and no money in her pockets, she had no idea how to get home, and she was certain those outlaws would catch up to her sooner or later. She managed to keep herself discreet for a couple of days, laying low and charming shopkeepers into giving her a couple of cans of food. All the while, she was desperately trying to find a ride back to Saint Denis that didn’t cost her money, or being subjected to disgusting favors from men twice her age.

One night she’d found shelter in a barn, sleeping peacefully when the sounds of voices aroused her. She realized immediately it was the gang of outlaws that kidnapped her in the first place, and she had no way to defend herself. Despite her trying to keep quiet, they eventually found her hiding spot. With no way out she was ready to accept her fate, until she heard gunshots and the heavy thudding of bodies. More gunfire sounded and she opened her eyes to see them facing outside the barn as a flurry of bullets both entered and exited the barn. She hid behind a crate, listening to the carnage until the gunfire stopped. Seeing the gang were all dead, she warily left her hiding spot and met the man who saved her, a fellow named Hosea Matthews. She recognized him immediately, having seen his wanted poster plastered all over Saint Denis for years. She thought he had the same intention of holding her ransom, but instead surprised her in saying he was here to help, after hearing talk about the rival gang searching for a young girl.

And so for the next few days, Hosea taught Misty how to defend herself. He gave her a revolver, teaching her how to shoot and basic tracking/hunting skills. He even offered to bring her back to his personal gang.

Main Game AU:

Misty considered Hosea’s offer. How she wanted to return home, but had a fear that upon returning, the same events would transpire and may end up with her, her mother, or others she cared about getting injured or killed in the crossfire. The last thing she wanted to do was bring home dangerous, greedy men, and decided to leave with Hosea.

Thus then started her journey as part of “Dutch’s Boys”, a scared young girl soon taught to be a useful gang member. Dutch and Hosea discovered her acting skills and put her to work for heists and robbery.

More to come soon...

RDO Events AU:

Upon declining Hosea’s offer, he gave her money to take a train back to Saint Denis and wished her luck, and let her know that he’d help her again if she ever needed it. She thanked him and got on the next train back home, glad to finally have a way back but she’ll never forget Hosea.

She returned to an emotional reunion, by not only her mother but her grandparents as well, who refused to return home until she was found. They immediately offered to take her and Arella back to England with them, where they guaranteed her safety. Arella declined for the both of them, while it was tempting, she did not want to subject Misty to the life that she hated.

Life returned back to normal for Misty, and putting the experience behind her, she tried pursuing a life in show business as she intended. Despite having a beautiful voice, she just couldn’t break past performing on the streets. She was constantly in other more successful performers’ shadows.

When she moved out on her own, she found it much harder to live on the meager money she was making. She then remembered her experience while being held hostage. The outlaws spoke about their tales and triumphs with stealing riches. She soon began to succumb to her curiosity, finding herself hanging out with the less desirable folk in Saint Denis.

She soon made herself a posse of her own called the Midnight Regulators, making their way across five states like a storm in robberies and ambushes. Misty often takes the role of damsel in distress to lure rich folk into trying to help her, and then robs them blind. She will also help those who are in greater need than her, sometimes becoming a “Robin Hood” and giving part of her loot to poor families.

Unfortunately, one of her gang members became too greedy and tried to overthrow her by attempting to kill her. The fight ended with Misty putting a bullet in their skull. The gang disbanded after that and she was alone, pulled to perform for funds.

Extra:

Legally her name is Misty Rodriguez. However, her mother introduced them using her own maiden name for her daughters to avoid discrimination.

Misty is actually afraid of horses, except her own, after being kicked in the chest as a child. It took her a long time to get comfortable around them.

She secretly hopes to meet her father one day.

She is considered morally gray.

Despite how her life has changed, she still wants to be on stage one day.

She has a soft spot for children and while it doesn’t seem likely, she hopes to settle down and have her own family.

Horses:

Cressida, an amber champagne Missouri Fox Trotter mare:

Misty’s main mount and her absolute favorite horse. Both fast and resilient, Misty was drawn in by this mare’s prowess and beauty.

Cornelia, a marble sabino Criollo mare:

Misty’s first horse. Cornelia can easily match Cressida in speed and stamina, but she’s very clumsy. Misty doesn’t ride her as often in fear of accidentally injuring her.

Orion, a sorrel overo Criollo stallion:

Misty came across this beautiful stallion tied up at a gang hideout, and took him once she’d done away with them.

Andromeda, a bay frame overo Criollo mare:

Misty’s newest horse. A prized mare she found at Braithwaite Manor when she snuck over to originally steal horses. She made out with the ones needed plus Andromeda for her own collection.

Blanche, a white Kladruber mare:

Not the fastest mount, but gorgeous and sturdy. Blanche, meaning “white” in French, was given to Misty by a man in thanks for saving his daughter.

#Misty Forester #red dead online #RDO #red dead OC

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strangedreamings · 5 years ago

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Tasertricks- Horseback riding (bonus if Sleipner gets a mention)

Horsing Around (AO3)

When she heard that Tony had rented out an entire lakeside resort so the Avengers could get some R&R, Darcy was happy for them. It had been a long couple of years of defeating Grimace and a few other would-be world conquerors. After the team had spent the last week being short-tempered and grouchy, Tony knew they needed a getaway.

Darcy was totally prepared to hold down the fort with Jane while the team was on vacation, but then Tony extended the invitation to the Avengers’ significant others and friends. Since that included her, she was overjoyed.

Her second day at the resort, she decided to go horseback riding, something she hadn’t done since she was a kid. She had just arrived at the stables when she saw someone had beat her there.

Loki was saddling a black stallion, a huge creature Darcy decided reminded her of the God of Mischief himself – tall, strong, with a long black mane and an air of superiority. She took a moment to ogle the way Loki’s jeans hugged his muscular thighs and perfect butt before rolling her eyes.

“Aww, I wanted to ride Onyx,” she said with a little pout.

He chuckled. “This is a mount fit for royalty, not a mere mortal such as yourself.”

“Uh huh.” She went over to Emerald, a sweetheart chestnut mare. Once the horse was saddled, Darcy led her outside and was surprised to see Loki at her side.

“I suppose you need assistance mounting the horse,” he said.

She flashed him a grin. “Nope, this is the easy part.” She mounted Emerald with no help needed, then smiled down at him. “What about you?”

Loki smirked then walked over to Onyx. “You can say I have a way with horses.”

Something in that sparked a memory. “Wait, didn’t you once, well, seduce a horse?”

He said nothing as he mounted Onyx but his cheeks were faintly blue. “It was all in the name of family loyalty.”

Her eyes widened as more of the story came to her. “And you had a kid!” She grinned. “Well, a foal.”

Loki rolled his eyes then led the way to the most scenic of the resort’s paths, Darcy right alongside him. “Yes, I briefly was a mare. Yes, I was impregnated by a stallion. And yes, I gave birth to an eight-legged foal. Sleipnir was my father’s favorite horse, but I suppose he belongs to Thor now.”

She smirked. “Should I be worried about leaving you and Onyx alone?”

“It was just one time.” His blush was a darker shade of blue now and Darcy couldn’t help loving it.

“Aren’t horses pregnant for a year?” she asked innocently, trying hard to hide her grin.

Instead of responding, he urged Onyx into a trot, leaving her and Emerald behind.

Darcy caught up to him at a pond. He had dismounted and left Onyx to graze, so she did the same with Emerald. Loki was looking over the pond, his arms crossed, and his face inscrutable.

“Hey,” she murmured as she laid a hand on his shoulder. “You okay? It was just some good-natured ribbing, I swear.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment then he said quietly, not looking at her, “I suppose my … romantic history has destroyed any interest you might have had.”

She stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her. “Where’d that come from? I thought we were just friends.”

He rolled his eyes. “Unlike my father and brother, I still have two good eyes, I can see how you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

“Yeah, so I look, so what? You’re sex on a stick but I know better than to touch, and it has nothing to do with you giving ‘horse lover’ a whole new meaning.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“You’re Trouble. I know that’s all part and parcel of being the God of Mischief, and to some degree, you can’t help being a little shit, but put it all together and it means you’ve got a much higher chance of breaking my heart than the average guy.”

“Then, you won’t even give me a chance?”

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “Do you want one?”

“Very much,” he murmured. “Give me a chance to show you I can be as good a partner as any mortal.” The unabashed sincerity in his eyes was something she never thought she’d see.

After a brief hesitation, she closed the distance between them, grinned up at him, and softly neighed.

Loki flashed her a delighted grin before claiming her mouth in a kiss.

#writing #tasertricks #loki #darcy lewis

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

Text

Second Chances - Epilogue 1

Take Me Home

Warnings: None!

Word count: ~2000

Masterlist

Read on AO3

This version of the epilogue has no kids between reader and Arthur - if you want kids, read version 2 here

You wake up to the sounds of birds singing. Stretching, you open your eyes to view the canvas above your head. It takes a moment for you to wake up enough to sit up, but when you do, you see the tent’s empty. Arthur must already be out.

Stepping out of the tent, you find him kneeling next to the fire. He greets you as you gaze around Cattail Pond before sitting down next to him. He’s just finished cooking some bacon that he packed along for the trip. When you’re seated, he pulls you into a big hug, kissing your temple affectionately.

It’s been five years since he found you near Aurora Basin in Tall Trees. Five long, mostly good years, although you both still often remember the time you spent with the gang, both the good and the bad.

After you left the gang and Hamish died, you decided to head out west where you both belonged. He wanted to go down as far south as New Austin near Tumbleweed, but you never liked it much down there. Too hot, too dry. Not enough green. When he asked you where you’d prefer going to, you automatically said Big Valley near Strawberry. To your surprise, he happily agreed.

He found a good patch in the forest near the huge meadow. Said it was the perfect spot for you both to spend the rest of your lives as there was plenty of space and lots of game to hunt, plus Strawberry wasn’t too far. There, Arthur built you a home. You said it would be easier to just buy one of those premade homes you’d been hearing about. It would take less time and energy, plus it could be built before winter, but Arthur hated the idea. He said he wanted to build you something with his bare hands. You were sure he did it because you’d both lost so much recently and he just wanted something good to come from it.

However, money was very tight when he began. The only money you had was the little from your satchel, which certainly wasn’t enough to buy the right tools for the job or horses or oxen to help. Arthur recalled the money left in Blackwater and he was sure Dutch or any of the others hadn’t gone back looking for it. So one night, you both snuck in and found, in a large tree near a headstone marked “Greta Van der Linde”, a small chest hidden inside with over $50,000. Neither of you could believe your luck, but you wasted no time in taking it.

With the new money, Arthur bought two oxen, tools and even hired a few hands to help him cut down the lumber and shape it before building it. While he and the hands worked, you worked on getting a garden going.

Soon after, the two of you got married. It was easily the happiest day of your life. It was very simple and few guests were there to witness it. Charlotte was one of them. She’d travelled all the way from Annesburg to Strawberry, but she said she wouldn’t dream of missing it. Charles was there as well. Word of the gang’s misfortunes had gotten to him up north. He believed you were both dead, but when he found no signs of your bodies, he pieced the story together and knew you’d both head west. He was the only one from the gang you and Arthur saw after John left. You wished he, Abigail, Jack and Sadie could have been there as well, but you’d heard nothing from them. They probably believed you and Arthur to be dead.

The structure of the house took months to build and then winter came, which forced Arthur to stop building onto it. It didn’t stop him from continuing to cut the smaller pieces, such as the roof tiles. He also worked on getting the fireplace built so that the two of you could huddle under your tent and be warm near the fire in what would be the living room.

It took two years until the house was finished and Arthur couldn’t have been prouder. He said it was for you, but you reminded him it was for his benefit as well. A few months later, he built a barn so Buell could have a proper stall. The old morgan you’d stolen died a few months previously, taken down by a broken leg. It was sad, but not as painful as losing Rannoch or Rain, both of whom you still miss deeply. It was easy to see Arthur still missed Artemis.

When the barn was built, you and Arthur bought two milking cows and chickens, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to make your home into a functioning ranch. Arthur had other ideas, however. He came home one day with four mares and an exceptionally handsome blood bay thoroughbred stallion named Jake, stating he wanted to breed horses. You couldn’t say no, he seemed so excited.

You still felt bad that you couldn’t give Arthur children. You knew he’d be a wonderful father, but he said he was actually happy you couldn’t. He said that after Eliza and Isaac, he didn’t want kids because he was scared he’d mess up or that what happened to them could happen to you. His heart simply couldn’t bear that pain.

Arthur hands you the bacon and then leans back a bit on his hands.

“What you thinkin’ about?” he asks.

“Nothing really. Just how pretty it is out here.” He chuckles softly and kisses your head again. You were the one who asked to go on this hunting trip, still not liking to be tied to one place for too long, as beautiful as your home is. Arthur’s much the same way. He simply spent too much time moving from one place to the next with the gang that he gets easily frustrated when he’s been cooped up too long.

“Reckon we should head back soon though. Carson will probably need help fixin’ the fence.”

You sigh. Carson is a boy from Strawberry. He was the first hand Arthur hired to help build the house and then, to your surprise, built him a small one-room cabin not far from the property. When you asked him why, he stated that when he helped Micah escape the Strawberry prison, Micah killed a man and his wife. Carson happened to be their only son and he was all alone, except for his yellow lab Lily. Arthur felt guilty for Carson’s fate, so he invited the boy to live on your land and work as a hand.

It was one of the best things Arthur’s done. Carson’s a pleasant, kind and thoughtful boy. He works well with the horses, but his affection for them is nothing compared to how he treats Lily.

You could tell Arthur really liked her as well, but she wasn’t his dog so they couldn’t have the same relationship. So, for his birthday, you bought Arthur a mountain dog puppy. He and that puppy were in love at first sight and he named him Timber. From that moment on, they were inseparable.

Timber runs over to Arthur now, his paws dirty from digging and his tail wagging. Arthur rubs his ears happily.

“Hey boah,” he says. Timber groans happily and then turns to lick you in the face. “You ready to see Lily?”

Timber barks. He and Lily are extremely close. Not only that, Timber makes for a wonderful herding dog. He’s very protective of the new foals and when the horses are let out in the big meadow to graze, he watches them like a hawk.

You and Arthur pack up your tent and douse the fire before mounting up on your horses. You pat your dapple bay breton mare who you named Ruby after Rain’s mother. She’s as big and tough as Artemis was, but looks nothing like her otherwise. Arthur hops onto Buell’s back and together, you ride home laiden with pelts.You’ll likely keep a couple and then sell the rest. Your saddlebags are bulging with fresh herbs, which you’ll hang in the barn to dry.

After nearly an hour’s travel, you see the trail leading off to Pinewood Crest, your home. Arthur had wanted to name it Hosea’s Rest but you stated you needed to keep a low profile and try your best not to have any affiliations with the gang for both your protection. Carson waves to you from the meadow, where the mares and their foals are grazing. Timber runs over to Lily, barking madly.

“Welcome back, Mr. and Mrs. Collins,” he says, running over.

You both say hello and head to the barn to dismount and unsaddle. It was Arthur’s idea to change your aliases. You suggested keeping the name Tacitus Kilgore as it was easy for you to remember, but he said it wasn’t smart. That name was likely associated with Dutch now. Instead, he said he’d go by the name William Arthur Collins, that way if you called him Arthur, people wouldn’t find it suspicious. You also changed your name to Y/F/N Alice Collins.

After putting everything away and hanging the herbs up to dry, you go out and stand at the edge of the meadow, watching the horses and cows grazing, Timber and Lily rolling in the grass. Arthur comes up from behind and folds his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

You sigh and rest your head against him, still watching the foals. There’s a small colt who looks exactly like Rain at that age and you named him Thunder. He kicks his heels, trotting circles around his bay mother named Willow. She ignores him, continuing to graze with the three other mares. Thunder runs near Buell and kicks out near him in play, but Buell just lifts his head, rumbles and then goes back to grazing. Ruby starts rolling in the dirt, making you laugh.

“Thought you were helping Carson fix the fence?” you ask.

“Ah, he’s got it for a minute. Besides, you looked so happy over here, had to come be with ya.”

He kisses your temple again. You turn and meet his lips with yours. He smiles against your lips and then looks out to the meadow once more. After everything you’ve done over your life, after all the suffering and hardship, you’d do it all over again if you knew it’d lead you here. You are happy.

The End

**Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me. It breaks my heart to end this fic, but it has been such an amazing ride. I would never have gotten far without all the encouragement I’ve received. I cannot express my gratitude in words, but I’m still amazed at how this led me to meet so many amazing people and the friendships I’ve made because of this fic that was inspired by the incredible game Red Dead Redemption 2. Thank you all so much!**

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur x female reader #arthur morgan x female #Van Der Linde Gang #R* Games #rockstar games #I'm awkward #second chances

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notes-from-sarah · 4 years ago

Text

A Coal Black Colt

Summary: When Diego catches a magnificent black colt in the hills his father tells him to turn it loose. After all, wild horses are dangerous because they cannot be broken. Diego has no intention of breaking this horse and knows he must find a way to keep him. Disney’s Zorro. One-shot. Canon compliant.

AO3 Link FFN Link

“His name is Tornado. An old shepherd has been keeping him for me. He was a colt when I left…Even my father wouldn’t recognize this horse” – Diego de la Vega (Season 1, Episode 1, Presenting Señor Zorro)

“¡Papá!” Diego’s voice echoed into the stables. “Papá, where are you?”

Alejandro looked up from inspecting one of his mares that was due to foal soon. “I am here, Diego. What do you need?”

Diego sprinted into view holding a rope lead. On the end of the lead was a coal black colt.

“Diego, where did you get that colt?” He hadn’t the faintest idea where Diego could have gotten the animal, the boy certainly didn’t have the money to buy it.

“I caught him in the hills. Isn’t he beautiful?” Diego patted the horse lovingly. Running his hand over the colt’s mane and neck. The animal was surprisingly calm, only betraying the slightest bit of nervousness.

Alejandro blinked in surprise. “He’s a fine looking animal, but-” he didn’t know what to say. His son had been known to drag home the odd pet or two in his life, but a wild horse was another matter entirely. “But how on earth did you catch him?” Alejandro knew the story was probably a good one, Diego’s stories always were.

“I was out riding in the hills past the big meadow,” Diego gestured away from the house in the general direction he meant, “and I saw a herd of the wild horses. This one caught my eye because I didn’t see a mother anywhere nearby. I followed them-”

Here Alejandro sighed. He was sure one of these days his son would follow some creature into the wilderness and never come back.

“-and they went deeper into the hills.” Diego began scratching the colt behind the ears. “The more I watched this one the more I knew I had to catch him. He ran like the wind over the hilltops and showed the most agility I’ve ever seen in a horse of his age. I believe he is an orphan.”

Alejandro guessed that the foal was about eight months old, quite old enough to get by without a mother. Alejandro opened his mouth to make a few remarks but Diego continued.

“He is such a fine animal, but he is smart too, I had to be very clever to catch hold of him. I decided to lay a trap there in the hills. I could tell he was intelligent and curious so I took off my hat and propped it up on a stick and put it in the ground where he could see. Then I hid myself behind a rock and waited with my lariat.”

Alejandro tried to stay quiet through Diego’s story, but he was already imagining how surprising a herd of wild horses while on foot might have gone ill for his son.

“My deception worked.” Diego patted the little horse’s head proudly. “He alone out of all the herd came to discover who the stick-man was, he was most curious about it. But he was cautious too.” He ruffled the horse’s forelock. “But not cautious enough! I sprang from my hiding place and lassoed him neatly. And do you know what?” Diego looked down at the foal with a grin.

“What?” said Alejandro with some trepidation.

“He didn’t even fight back. He was a bit frightened at first, but he didn’t try to run. I knew he was special.” Diego petted down horse’s nose ending at the velvety muzzle. His eyes shone with pride.

It was more than obvious that the boy was already in love with the animal. Alejandro sighed again, this wasn’t going to be pleasant. “Diego,” he said gently, “you must realize you can’t keep him.”

His son looked at him, surprised. “But Papá, he’s perfect. With a little training and more time he’ll be the most magnificent stallion.”

“Diego, he’s a wild animal.” This was not the first time he had some version of this conversation with his son. “He’ll never really be tame.”

“Of course he can be tamed,” said Diego. “I will train him most spectacularly.”

At times Alejandro wished he had even half the confidence of a teenage boy. “It won’t work, my son. It is simply impossible to make a wild animal tame.”

“But, Father,” Diego protested, gripping the colt’s mane, “I can-”

“No, Diego, you cannot.” Alejandro already had visions of his son being thrown by a half-trained wild horse. He had witnessed other dons attempt to break the wild ones, it never went well for them.

“I just need a little time,” Diego insisted. “I know it can be done.”

“But, Diego, you don’t have time.” Alejandro hated disappointing his son like this, but he needed to see sense. “You will be leaving for university in just half a year. Not only do I doubt that you can tame the wildness out of this horse, but even if you could you do not have the time needed to do so. I am afraid I must insist on you turning the animal loose. It will be better off with the other wild horses than languishing here, unrideable, for four years.”

“But,” Diego tried one last time, “I could start his training and then maybe Benito could work with him, or I might delay entering the university for a year and-”

“No, Diego, I have made up my mind on the matter and I want no more argument. He is not fit for breaking and I will not hear another word of you delaying your start at university. Take him now and turn him loose before he becomes to accustomed to the domestic horses. We do not want him returning and leading them off.”

Diego was bitterly disappointed. He cast his eyes downward combing his fingers through the colt’s mane. “Yes, Father,” he said finally.

“There’s a good boy,” said Alejandro. It was difficult for him to let down his son like this. He hated to take away something Diego so clearly enjoyed. “You had best go about it quickly, I’ll see you at supper.”

Diego nodded. “With your permission,” he said, not meeting Alejandro’s eyes. He tugged at the rope around the colt’s neck and the horse and boy left the stables.

Alejandro sighed. He wished Isabela were here to help manage this, her death last year had made parenting that much harder. She would have been able to make Diego see sense. At the same time, Alejandro thought, she probably would have convinced me to let Diego keep the horse. He was certain he had done the right thing in telling Diego to release the horse. Wild animals were just that, wild, and had no place in a domestic herd.

Diego mounted his palomino, Sinfonía, and leading the little black horse began to ride towards the hills where he had captured the colt. He was aggravated. He had spent most of the day tracking and capturing this foal, he hated letting him go again. He hadn’t even had a chance to tell his father the name he picked out for the animal. Tornado. His father hadn’t even seen how Tornado could run like the wind or turn on a pin. He was frustrated to be dismissed so quickly.

Glancing at Tornado cheerfully trotting beside Sinfonía his heart sank. The small horse was magnificent. To turn him loose was a waste.

“Do you want to stay with me, Tornado, or shall I set you free? I could train you to be the most legendary horse in all of New Spain.”

In way of response Tornado snorted and kicked up his heels, shaking his head. The colt was energetic even after the long day of activity.

“That’s what I think too,” said Diego, taking Tornado’s gestures for an answer. “Papá thinks that a wild horse can never be broken, is that true?”

Tornado twitched his ears in various directions.

“Well, I suppose it is true a little bit, but I do not want to break you. I want us to be amigos. I think we can work together most fabulously.”

Tornado scampered through the grass at Sinfonía’s side.

“Do you think I should listen to my Papá and turn you loose?” Diego was debating the issue internally. This little horse was so full of life and practically begging to be his friend. It would be cruel to send the animal back out to the wild when fate had so clearly intended for them to be together. Diego realized he couldn’t turn Tornado loose, he had to find some way to keep him without his father knowing.

He rode deeper into the hills, the hacienda disappearing in the distance. He knew the herd wouldn’t be where he had left them earlier, but he was beginning to think he wasn’t going there anyway. Still, where could he keep a horse so that his father wouldn’t suspect?

“So, Tornado, if I am not to turn you loose, where shall I put you? Shall I swear Benito to secrecy and have him hide you among our herds?”

Tornado frisked along oblivious to Diego’s troubles.

“That would not work for very long, Benito is too good a man to hide you from my father.” Patting the neck of his Palomino Diego said, “What do you think, am I being stupid, Sinfonía?”

Sinfonía just climbed through the hills calmly giving him no opinion.

Diego scanned the horizon hoping inspiration would come to him regarding his predicament. Presently the smell of smoke wafted over him. He stood up in his stirrups looking around for the source of the smoke, one could never be too careful about that sort of thing. The breeze was coming from the east so Diego rode in that direction hoping to find the source a campfire or something equally innocuous.

The source of the smoke, it turned out, was a cooking fire made by Old Cristóbal the shepherd.

“Don Diego,” Cristóbal rose and hailed him, “it has been a long time. Come, sit with me and tell me about your life.”

Diego smiled. He liked Cristóbal, and would on occasion seek him out just to enjoy his company. The man had many stories of his adventures as a shepherd in the wilderness, and he knew everything there was to know about the Californian countryside.

“Buenos días, Cristóbal.” Looping Tornado’s lead around Sinfonía’s saddle horn, Diego dismounted and shook the old shepherd’s hand. “How have you been?”

“Each day is like the other, but no two are the same.” Cristóbal smiled at him. It was a warm, earthy smile that Diego liked very much.

The two of them sat down near Cristóbal’s cook fire where he was preparing a pot of what smelled to be beans. His mule grazed nearby and Diego saw a small, neat tent erected a couple of yards away.

“Has your work been kind to you lately?” Diego asked. The shepherd looked to be in good health.

“It has been kind enough. It is my old bones that are not kind to me these days.” Cristóbal’s eyes twinkled.

Diego laughed. “I hope they provide you with a few more years of kindness all the same.”

“And what of you, Don Diego. I see you have a fine colt hitched to your horse there.”

Diego looked at Tornado. At least he wasn’t the only one who could see Tornado’s worth. “Sí, he is the finest I’ve ever seen. I caught him in the hills earlier today, and as you can see, he is already half tame. I think he will be the most magnificent stallion when he is grown.”

Cristóbal stirred his beans to prevent them from burning. “Why do you take him on a lead through the hills? Would it not be better to start him in the paddock?”

“My father does not believe a wild horse can be tamed and has told me to return him to the wild.” Diego’s voice held an edge of the irritation he felt about the issue. “I think he is putting one of the finest horses in California to waste because he assumes that good things can only come from Spain.”

“That is a difficult spot, Don Diego.” Cristóbal took a delicate bite of his cooking off the end of his spoon. “What are you going to do about it?”

Diego rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, when I left the hacienda I intended to do what my father told me to, no matter how loathsome. But now,” he looked back at Tornado, “I want to find a way to keep him. I know I can prove my father wrong, I just need to be given a chance.”

“An important time in every young man’s life, when he eschews the counsel of his father and begins to make his own decisions.”

“He will not be happy when he discovers I’ve disobeyed him.” Diego grinned a little. “What a tongue lashing I will receive.”

Cristóbal laughed. “Your father’s way with words is legendary.”

“It is most certainly that.” Diego smiled and shook his head. “At any rate, I had just come to my decision when I smelled your fire and came to make sure that the hills were not ablaze. I don’t know what I’m going to do with Tornado, I just know I need to keep him.”

“Tornado, a fine name for such an animal.” Cristóbal stroked his mustache for a moment as he gazed at the colt. “I agree with you, Don Diego, you must find a way to keep him and train him in secret.”

“There’s another problem,” Diego said, thinking of the future. “My father is sending me to university in Spain early next year and even if I make progress with Tornado, I will have to interrupt my training of him for four years.”

“Oh, Don Diego, this is good news, though. You will get the most fantastic education.” Cristóbal’s voice was filled with enthusiasm.

Diego raised an eyebrow, softly skeptical. “Do you think so? To tell the truth I am a little nervous. I’ve never traveled so far before, or been away for so long. I keep thinking that maybe I could put it off a year or two. What difference does it make if I enter university when I am nineteen or even twenty years old? And if I stay I could train Tornado and show my father that the wild horses are every bit as good as the domestic breeds.”

“But Don Diego, opportunities like this come only one time in a man’s life, if ever. You need to reach out boldly and seize it.” Cristóbal mimed a grabbing movement plucking the spoon from his one hand to the other. “When you are older you will find that you no longer care to do things to impress your father, or show him that he’s wrong.”

Diego considered Cristóbal’s words for a moment. “So, you think I should leave Tornado?”

“Right now it is necessary for you to go to university. You will get an education and return to the pueblo with a mind sharpened and ready for action. You will contribute something to all of us who cannot go to Spain for an education and lift us all with your learning. You must go, Don Diego, and not worry about what will happen to Tornado.” Cristóbal returned to stirring his beans.

In Cristóbal’s words Diego heard a hunger for learning. He was sure Cristóbal had only the most rudimentary education, if any, and it was certain that a lot of opportunities had been lost because of this deficit. “But what then of Tornado?”

“Don Diego, if he means so much to you, I will look after him until you return.”

“Really?” Diego sat up a little. “But I could not ask you to do such a thing.” He sat back again, then sat up again a second later and said, “What if I pay you? I can give you a salary for four years to keep him, watch him, feed him and work with him? Would you do that for me?”

“Don Diego, it would be my pleasure. Now, my beans are ready, join me and we will work out the details of this arrangement.”

Diego came to say goodbye to Tornado and Cristóbal. He was leaving for San Pedro in the morning and from there taking a ship to Spain. Tornado, just over a year old now, was shaping up to be a fine animal. Diego had not breathed a word about Tornado to his father. He wasn’t entirely sure how this would work out with him being gone for four years, but he was willing to give it a try.

Tornado was grazing in the small pen Cristóbal had for his mule. Upon seeing Diego the young horse nickered excitedly and raced to the fence. Diego reached over the fence rail and petted Tornado’s nose. He looked magnificent. “Hello, boy. Are you glad to see me?”

Tornado nuzzled Diego’s hand affectionately.

“I’m glad to see you too. I brought you a present.” Diego reached into his jacket and produced a carrot.

Tornado reached for it instantly.

“Wait,” Diego told the horse, holding the carrot out of his reach, “first you must do a trick.”

Tornado seemed to shake his head.

“Yes, you must. I want to know you will not forget everything I’ve taught you. Kneel, Tornado.”

Tornado backed away from the fence rail at Diego’s command.

“Kneel, come on boy, kneel,” Diego repeated.

Tornado sank down, bending one knee in a facsimile of a kneeling bow.

“Good boy, Tornado!” Diego said.

Tornado sprang back to his feet and ran to the rail again. Diego handed him the carrot. As Tornado munched the vegetable Diego scratched his neck. “I won’t see you again for a long time, boy. You must promise not to forget what I’ve taught you. When I come back you’ll be waiting for me and I will have the most exquisite horse in California to ride every day.”

Tornado leaned into the scratching, enjoying Diego’s attention.

“You must behave yourself while I am gone, be good to Cristóbal.”

“And I will be good to him, Don Diego,” said Cristóbal.

Diego turned to see the old shepherd. “Cristóbal, Buenos días. I came to say goodbye. I’m leaving for San Pedro in the morning.”

Cristóbal came to the fence and patted Diego’s arm. “Is it that day already? It seems only yesterday it was more than six months away.”

Diego nodded. “I am afraid you will not see me again for four years.” Diego reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a fat purse. “Here is the sum which I promised you for taking care of Tornado.”

“Don Diego, you are too generous.” Cristóbal attempted to refuse the purse.

“I insist,” Diego said firmly, “you are doing me a great favor and I would not dream of treating you any differently than the best stables In Mexico City which house the finest racehorses.”

Cristóbal smiled. “Even though he will eat only plain grass and not imported oats?”

“The plain grass of California will make him strong, not soft like those Spanish imported breeds.” Diego placed the purse into Cristóbal’s hand and closed the man’s fingers around it. “No, I want him to be a true steed of the country. Swift, confident in the hills, and strong on good Californian grass.”

“You are too generous, Don Diego,” Cristóbal said again, finally accepting the money.

“Really, I am not. You are helping me, providing me with a service, and I am paying you a fair wage. There is no generosity in that.” Diego patted Cristóbal’s shoulder warmly. “Now, no more talk of our arrangement, it is settled. You will keep him and train him while I am gone and that is all I need to know.”

“Will you not stay for a light meal, Don Diego?” Cristóbal gestured to his small house.

Diego smiled. “I would like that very much, but I’m afraid I must get back home, I still have many things to do before tomorrow.”

Cristóbal nodded. “Then I wish you safe passage and look forward to your return.”

Diego embraced Cristóbal. “Thank you. Know that you and Tornado and all of California will be in my thoughts often.”

Turning to Tornado he motioned the horse back to the fence. The colt ran forward at full speed before coming to a halt at the last second sending a spray of dirt and a cloud of dust into the air. Cristóbal and Diego laughed and Diego reached out to pet his horse one last time.

“Goodbye, my friend, I will return soon.”

#fanfiction #Zorro #Disney's Zorro #Diego de la Vega #Alejandro de la Vega #Tornado #Fathers and Sons #Family #Horses #Friendship #one-shot #canon compliant #before the show #Zorro 1957

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jack-andthestalk · 6 years ago

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Our Son, Arc II, Sunrise, Chapter 4.

Firstly a huge thank you to @missclairebelle who listened to my weird legal ramblings and made good on them, also for her shouty DM's and encouragement on this chapter, her talent is phenomenal across the board. @balfeheughlywed's feedback is so astute, and her support on this fic has been amazing and I just love the bants with her. This Arc is testing me and I was struggling to write anything for a while but I seem to have found a rhythm and that is partly thanks to @ladyviolethummingbird and @laythornmuse writing tips. So thank you!

A horrible feeling of bubbling nausea swirled relentlessly around in my tummy. Jamie's defeated face fixed on me, waiting for a reaction. Any words that were likely to come from my mouth would be so full of venom, that I dared not open it. Not to protect Jamie, it was to stop me sharing anything of my reaction.

"I wouldna leave you for anything Claire" Jamie's eyes beseeched mine, “I had no choice”.

I couldn’t look, wouldn’t let myself meet his eye.

I had inhaled his every word since he woke me an hour before. A lot of it was things I had already known from what Jenny had explained. Right up until the end, when he came to that bit I knew it was bad before he started.

Jamie seldom cried, maybe when Willie was born? I thought absently, apart from that I couldn't think of another time. Now standing on our cold cement door step, as the sun mounted the sky, he pinched his eyes to stem tears from streaming down his face, his cheeks stained with the ones that had already escaped.

I couldn't muster one ounce of sympathy for him, it scared me, complete detachment. My brain was protecting my heart allowing me just numbness for a moment or two.

It gave me the chance to look at him, really look at him as if he was another person's partner. What advice would I give my friend if she had moved herself and her son from their home thousands of miles to set up a life with someone she loved deeply, the father of her child, only to arrive and have he tell you that he actually was moving hundreds of miles away to run another business?

I knew that I would tell her to pick up whatever dignity she had left and run, run, run.

Thoughts of Willie fleeted through my addled brain. How would I tell him? When would we leave?

“How long?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t speak and I felt the rage boiling in me again, this time now through gritted teeth,

“how fucking long Jamie?”

He sniffed and cleared his throat, "two years as long as it takes to finish it."

“And how long until you go?”

“Claire” he whispered imploringly.

"I need to prepare Willie," I said briskly, ignoring his plea.

“Ten weeks.”

A nod and I was on my feet, brushing myself down. ”Ok”

“Where are ye going?”

“I am not sure,” I replied distractedly looking out at the vast amount of hills and fields I could wander through.

Jamie rose to grab me back. “Alone Jamie, leave me alone.”

______________________

Four hours later with bleak black clouds hovering over me, I found myself at the stables, watching Brian brush down a great big stallion. Methodically covering each inch of the horses back with long even strokes.

He swung around when he heard me approach.

"Just me” I said meekly, wrapping my arms around my waist, suddenly feeling the cold.

Brian's startled expression softened instantly and he looked at me with utter sympathy causing tears filled my eyes abruptly. "Thank god, are ye alright?"

A nod, while I stunk my teeth into my bottom lip. “Fine”.

“He has been out looking for ye twice lass, his temper is frayed enough, I thought he might kill someone if ye dinna return to him soon.

I snorted, but the downturn in my lips made it appear more of a sneer, "when I do go, I won't be leaving on foot", my tone was biting, and I regretted at once using it on Brian but the regret quickly waned when I pictured them all knowing, they knew before me and did nothing. Fuck them all.

Brian's face creased in pity, I couldn't bare it. I turned to leave again not sure of where I would go. "Claire I ken ye are hurting ..."

My voice was brisk now "Brian if it’s all the same to you...I don't want to..."

His hand was firm yet gentle on my shoulder as he turned me, "ye have every right" he said softly. Jamie feared it most of all that it would hurt ye, lassie, ye were his only care, I can promise ye that."

A dense lump climbed up my throat, painfully reminding me that if I spoke it would unleash a sob instead of words. I placed the flat palm of my hand to my forehead but it was too late, tears were coming again. It was as if my eyes were so practiced at it they couldn't stop. I tried breathing in and out deeply, in the hope of bringing back some calmness. Suddenly I could feel Brian's arms folding me into him, holding me to his chest. "Ach Claire...dinna weep a leannan."

That was all it took before big rasping sobs escaped my chest and vibrated against Brian's.

He held me for some time before he gently guided me over to a hay bale and beckoned me to sit, handing me a tissue.

"Claire I dinna ken how much the lad told ye, and I dinna want to make things worse, but I hate to see the two of ye hurting...and I ken Jamie is too"

He looked down at his hands shamefully, "he might even feel worse because it's his fault", sighing deeply, trying to summon up words that could make things a whole lot worse or in the vien hope it might ease some of the pain. "having my own hands soiled in this sorry affair brings me nothing but shame too." he said quietly.

I put my hand over Brian's hand, "It's not your fault" I whispered.

He shook his head avidly, "I should have checked the contract with him, he was under such pressure...I shouldha kent."

I couldn't follow the jumble of words falling from his mouth.

I turned to him now, my brows creased "From the beginning" I said firmly.

A long intake of breath, Brian rubbed his hands nervously up and down his thighs, after tapping his fingers lightly against his thigh for a moment or two, he began to speak slow halting words, "Jamie was trying to secure a deal” hands upturned now in demonstration…he dinna say it but I kent he wanted it for our pensions", another nod and he swallowed "mine and Ellens".

"Since my accident, the lad has been very firm in that he wanted me to retire properly, have a life outside of here, ya ken?"

I bobbed my head receptively, suddenly needing someone to fill in the gaps that I wouldn’t allow myself to ask Jamie. A red mist had blocked any further need for information.

"When the Dunsany's offered him the contract to buy exclusively from Lallybroch...well we thought it too good to be true", "I shouldha fucking known that spineless bastard Dougal could only bring harm on us" he hissed, throwing a piece of straw he had been playing with forcibly to the ground, standing abruptly he began pacing over and back in front of me, temper subdued enough so he could continue. "Jamie saw it as a way to secure Lallybroch's future and allow Ellen and me a healthy pension to retire on.

They offered us a large amount of money to secure the right to exclusively buy any stock that was bred and raised here at Lallybroch. If there was stock, they had a need of, and we dinna have it here, the contract included provisions for Jamie to buy on their behalf, train the animal and sell it on to the Dunsany's."

Another slight tilt of my head acknowledging my understanding.

Brian ran his hands along the edge of a stable door, pausing over grooves with his long fingers considering. "They drew up the contracts a few months ago, but Jamie held off on signing…it was something he was thinking on. Then the stud got that virus, the poor lad was day and night with them, trying to keep the infection at bay. He missed yer birthday on the head of it.

"I remember," I said hoarsely.

“He returned from his last trip to Boston, and he had decided he would sign”.

Brian looked imploringly at me now.

"We were still reeling from nearly losing all our livestock if it hadna been for Jamie’s quick thinking…” he trailed off, and smiled meekily at me “for the first time we realised just how vulnerable we were…" He tilted his head shyly ", and I know now that Jamie had asked ye to marry him on that trip…so the lad had his plans too."

My heart fluttered in my chest, and fresh tears slid down my cheeks. So much hope and now it was snuffed out. Thinking of the stress, Jamie must have been under yet he flew to me in Boston proposing during it all. My thoughts must have been apparent on my face because Brian's face softened "it puts things in perspective lass, Jamie was fair desperate to see ye."

I wiped a stray tear from my face. "That is when Jamie signed the contract," he said sorrowfully, "When he came back from Boston" Brian pressed his bottom lip into his mouth and shook his head dejectedly.

"There was no reason to think the worst of them...it all seemed above board”.

"This trip was just to iron out the specifics, work out what stock they would need over the coming months, talk to them about what Mares were in foal, breeds, that kind of thing,"

Brian ruffled the thick black hair on top of his head, and it struck me how not only alike Jamie was to him but Willie too, absently thinking the Frasers had strong genes. "Then last night they turned around and said they wanted Jamie to oversee this big expansion at Hellwater!”

My mind suddenly was in the drawing room watching this nightmare unfold, and I idiotically could see Geneva Dunsany, leering gleefully in a corner because she knew all along they had this trick up their sleeve.

Brian's foot started tapping agitatedly, "Jamie refused outright…said there was no way, and then they drew their sword." He finished bleakly.

My heart started hammering fast in my chest, I hadn't let Jamie explain earlier, he had looked at me, eyes empty and said "they have the power to shut us down if I dinna go Claire", I hadn't cared then what justifications he thought he had.

To up and leave after I had given everything up to come to be with him. He had never been able to leave before when I needed him.

I didn't want to hear it from Jamie, but now in the cold light of day and Brian's sad face before me, I had to learn the full truth whether I wanted to or not.

"There were small clauses built into the contract Jamie signed; what he thought were insignificant details, they are using them against us Claire."

I opened my mouth to ask, had he not sought legal advice? could we fight these contracts? The resignation of Brian's face somehow told me there was little hope for any of that.

Brian sat down beside me again, putting his big hand over mine, “He has a huge talent, clever man when it comes to farming, horses, even business..but Jamie has a kind heart…he never wouldha thought that people would be capable of being so underhand.”

"What are the clauses?" my voice sounded cold, I didn't mean it. I was trying to protect myself from something, and I wasn't even sure what.

“The Dunsany’s have exclusive rights to buy our stock, and they may take up to 180 days to decide if they want them and are entitled to the first refusal." They made it clear that if Jamie decided not to go to Hellwater, they would apply that right on every horse they look at. Even though last night they told us it would be their intention not to buy any. It means we wouldna be legally allowed to pursue another sale…for some time."

Brian's head bent slowly, and he appeared for the first time as if he might breakdown himself. "the second clause is we canna sell within 200 miles of Hellwater Claire. They effectively can make it so we willna be able to sell our stock to anyone that could offer us a competitive price and by the time ye take in the delay they can impose on such a sale…well ye may as well close us down now.”

Brian’s head dropped and he clasped his hands together “I ken ye are angry with him and it willna help him for me to say this to ye but Ellen and I dinna want him to give into them…”

He sat up straight now, pride in his voice when he spoke again “Jamie isna an ordinary man, he was born to lead, and he saw hundreds of years of work by our kin about to be robbed by those bastards, and I knew we could argue all night, it wouldna mattered, he will sacrifice himself to help us.”

I said nothing, the stillness in the stables, grew thick.

Brian's choked voice broke the silence, "It kills me, my son has to do this Claire…I would do anything so he mightn't have to but he willna leave us without a home or business, and we canna persuade him otherwise."

I wiped the dust from my thighs and stood up.

"I am so sorry a Leannan" he said quietly.

I squeezed Brian's shoulder as he stood, pulling me to him and embracing me without another word. "We will be yer home still?” his face searching mine. I realised that they had just got used to the idea of Willie living here.

“I don’t know…Jamie doesn’t even know how often he is likely to be able to get home…and I would never go to him there…not now especially." I replied flatly.

It was only then I heard rustling behind me that I realised Jamie stood watching me with hollow eyes, taking in the sight of my red and tear-streaked face and his father's arms around my shoulders comforting me, something I hadn't allowed him to do.

#outlander fanfic #ourson

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 6 years ago

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Heart of Steel - I

Description: Sir James is known throughout the lands as the most fearsome and honorable warrior. Ballads have been written about him. Men fear him. He is the most trusted knight of the King Henry. So why has he given up the glories of war and pledged his loyalty to Princess Y/N?

Pairing: Medieval AU -Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 3,183

Warning: If you’re a history buff, probably don’t read this because the historical inaccuracies will most likely drive you crazy. 😅

Series Masterlist

“Sir James,” Y/N says overly sweetly. She only used his correct title when they were not alone or when she wanted to tease him; this time it was both. “You are said to be one of the strongest knights to have ever lived. People fear you on the battlefield. You are renowned throughout the lands…”

Bucky kept his face emotionless, choosing to wait patiently for her to finish.

“So why, Sir James, do you waste your days protecting me? Surely this life is quite lowly to a man of your honor.” Her eyes were so playful and mischievous. She knew he couldn’t respond honestly when her ladies-in-waiting and servants surrounded them.

Bucky wasn’t in the mood for her games today. Y/N did this when she was bored. She was much too clever and witty to be a princess. She got easily bored, which was why she caused so much trouble as a child. The trouble continued into her young adulthood, but Y/N had become much better at hiding it.

“You are the princess, Your Highness.” Bucky replied evenly.

Y/N looked disappointed that he wasn’t playing the part she had hoped.

“Me? The princess?” She gasped theatrically. “Why… I had no idea?”

Her ladies-in-waiting giggled, hiding their amusement with their fans.

Bucky hated them. He believed Y/N deserved better company. They were all fictitious friends. None of them actually knew who Y/N was as a person. They only cared for her title. Everyone wanted to be close to the princess.

Bucky narrowed his gaze just enough that it wasn’t a glare.

“You are the Crown Princess; daughter of King Henry, the world’s most powerful ruler. He has called you his greatest treasure. The duty of protecting her is anything but lowly.” He raised an eyebrow.

Y/N paused before letting out boisterous laughter. Her mother had scolded her for it since she was a child. Y/N didn’t laugh like a princess, didn’t hide her lips behind her hand or a fan. No, Y/N laughed loud and threw her head back. She could fill an entire room with joy from it.

Bucky was grateful that her governess, teachers, and mother couldn’t beat it out of her.

“Oh, how you flatter me so, Sir James.” She sipped on a goblet of wine. Her eyes darkened as she stared him down. “But you also speak of me as if I am a possession and nothing more.”

Anger flashed across Bucky’s eyes at the accusation. He never saw Y/N has anything less than her own independent self. In fact, he might be one of the few who did.

But Bucky was trained to keep his emotions and reactions hidden.

“No one could ever truly possess a princess, Your Highness. I am not foolish enough to repeat the same mistake of other men. Unbeknownst to them, they would have better luck catching smoke than making a woman their possession.”

If Y/N was caught off guard by his retort, she didn’t show it.

Instead, she smirked and looked around at their audience. “Is he not the most amusing man we could ever have in our midst?” Y/N teased.

———

“Why do you torture him so?” Wanda asked Y/N as she brushed her hair.

Y/N sat in her nightgown, hair undone, and no makeup staining her skin.

Yes, Wanda was her servant. But she was also Y/N’s dearest friend. When they were alone, Y/N treated her as an equal.

“Who?” Y/N asked. “You know who: Sir James. I saw you teasing him earlier today. I know you do it out of your own boredom. But I feel bad for the poor man.” Wanda giggled softly.

“One day he will grow tired of me, I feel it. I always imagined him as the captain of my father’s army.” Y/N tried to hide the sadness in her eyes as she imagined the day it became true. But Wanda knew her too well to miss it.

“I know it is not my place, Your Highness…” She began carefully.

“Wanda, how many times must I say it, even after all these years? You may call me Y/N when we are alone. And you may speak freely. We are friends, are we not?”

Wanda nodded.

“Truly, you must see how Sir James looks at you. I cannot imagine a day when he will ever leave your side. He loves you and it is a love beyond the simple commoner for his princess.”

Y/N’s eyes softened.

“I only wonder if you will ever allow yourself to love him back.” Wanda added quietly as she continued to brush Y/N’s hair.

“What does it matter? Love will never be my path. I am a princess, Wanda. I marry for my kingdom, not for love.”

“The King and Queen love each other, do they not?” Wanda challenged lightly.

“Yes, but it was out of sheer dumb luck…furthermore, it took years. ” Y/N replied with an obvious bitterness.

“I know you do not truly believe that, Y/N.” Wanda sighed.

————

Bucky patiently waited outside Y/N’s bedchambers.

It was the start of another day and it had already been announced that she was not attending court. He was grateful. The smell of their too strong perfume and the sound of their fake giggles gave him headaches. When he was lucky, he got pulled away, by request of the King, for other pursuits.

Suddenly, Y/N’s door opened.

The other guard stationed with Bucky straightened his posture almost in panic.

Y/N was not only wearing riding gear, but riding gear that was meant for a man.

Bucky tried to ignore the way the outfit hugged her body in ways her dresses never did. He could perfectly see the shape of her legs and the curve of her bottom.

“I wish to go riding.” Y/N told the two men.

“Your Highness, a storm is quickly approaching. The horses have been unruly all day,” the other guard argued.

Y/N raised an eyebrow and glared at him. “I did not ask for a foretelling of weather, Sir Arthur.”

Bucky had to hide his smirk. He had never met a woman that could put a man back in his place like she could. She could make any man feel as though he was being scolded by his mother once again.

“If you are worried about getting caught in a storm, you need not worry. I only request Sir James as an escort.” Y/N added with a tilt of her head.

“But that is not the proper formality, your highness!” Sir Arthur argued.

“Leave it be,” Bucky warned him. “We will be fine without your accompaniment.”

Y/N looked pleased with his support. “And just for that, you may hurry ahead and tell the stablemen to ready our horses, Sir Arthur.”

He looked embarrassed to be so patronized. But he knew his place and nodded before practically running and disappearing down the halls.

Bucky started escorting Y/N in the same direction, but at a much slower pace.

He sighed and chuckled to himself. “Must you be so hard on him?”

Y/N scoffed, “He speaks to me as if I am a child.”

“He has known you since you were one,” Bucky replied. But then his eyes looked over her outfit, once again. “If your mother catches you in those clothes, you will never hear the end of it.”

Y/N smiled at him. “Is it not your duty to protect me, Sir James? That means I need saving from danger both within and outside these castle walls.”

“Aye, your mother is a danger.”

The comment earned him a burst of laughter from her. It bounced off the marble walls surrounding them. Bucky swore his heart could be made of ice and Y/N’s laughter would melt it still.

They both knew to take lesser known paths to avoid servants and nobles, or worse, members of Y/N’s royal family.

Eventually they made it to the stables.

Y/N’s horse was a wild beast. It was a gift from her older brother, Anthony. He’d been in town square, watching a group of men fail to tame it. He overheard them discussing the possibility of simply killing it and selling the meat for money. But Tony wouldn’t allow it. He bought the black, Friesian, stallion and knew, in his heart, that Y/N could bridle him.

Y/N had a gift with horses. She would’ve made a fine horse-breaker if she had been born a commoner. Bucky swore it was like watching a sorcerer place an enchantment as she whispered soothing words to the beasts. They melted under her touch and voice.

Tony’s gift had been the same. Y/N named him Moon, for his coat was so black that the light bounced off it in a beautiful shade of blue. It reminded her of the way the world looked under moonlight.

Y/N let his mane and tale grow out. She refused to let anyone touch them. Bucky always smiled when he remembered the time she caught a stable boy trying to comb a brush through the horse’s mane. The boy got quite the scolding.

“I want him to remain wild,” Y/N had told him.

Moon adored Y/N. If there was anyone more protective of her than Bucky, it was that damn horse. Most of the stableman couldn’t go near him without getting a bite or a stomp to one of their feet. However, Moon tolerated Bucky and Tony.

Bucky watched as Y/N cooed at her stallion. He instantly nuzzled her palm and lightly stomped his feet in excitement, knowing they were about to go on a ride.

Bucky’s horse was a grey, Percheron, mare. It was a horse bred for war, and Bucky had told Y/N of all the times she practically saved his life on the battlefield. She was a giant thing that most people weren’t even big enough to ride. Unlike Moon, she was a gentle and friendly animal. But when armor was placed on her back, she was a force to be reckoned with.

Bucky named her Persephone. “When I ride her through the battlefield, I never know if she’s guiding me to my death or away from it,” Bucky had said when Y/N asked why.

Y/N mounted Moon. She did not ride sidesaddle, like a proper lady. Which was also why she had to sneak about the castle to go for rides. But that was how she’d become such a great rider. There wasn’t a horse in the kingdom that could throw her off.

Bucky had already mounted Persephone. His sword was still at his waist, but a bow and arrows were added to the saddle as well.

Y/N glanced back at him. “Try to keep up,” she smirked before digging her heels into Moon’s side and taking off.

Bucky shook his head in annoyance. But it was all for show. As soon as he was out of the barn and into the meadows, he broke into a smile and urged Persephone to catch up.

His eyes looked up at the sky. His comrade hadn’t been wrong: a storm was coming their way. It was straight ahead and it looked like Y/N was trying to ride straight into the black clouds.

Y/N was a better rider than even Bucky. So he would never catch up to her.

She only slowed down when rain started pelting them.

He saw her look around and steer Moon to a giant beech tree in the near distance. Its branches were so broad and its leaves were so big that it would give them shelter to wait out the storm.

When Bucky reached it, Y/N was already soaking wet. But her lips spread into a beaming smile. He saw that her skin was covered in goosebumps and she was shivering slightly.

He dismounted and ripped off his cloak to wrap around her.

“Your lips are about to turn blue, Y/N.” He practically berated her.

“But what about you, Bucky?”

Now that they were completely alone, they called each other by their informal names and not titles. It was forbidden and could easily have Bucky hanged, if Y/N or another royal member wished it.

Y/N was also her true self now. Not rigid and proper, or sometimes even bratty. No, now she was kind and gentle and relaxed. This was the woman that Bucky fell in love with.

No one even knew of Bucky’s nickname, except for maybe a handful of people.

“I am fine,” He assured her. “I cannot have the royal princess dying from a cold, even if riding into a deadly storm was her perposterous idea.”

Y/N looked down at the ground. “I am sorry. I just - ”

“I know,” Bucky caught her off guard. “That castle asphyxiates you.”

Her eyes widened at how well he knew her. But she nodded in agreement.

Moon interrupted their little moment as he stood close to Y/N, pressing his large body against hers, while also being careful not to step on her feet. The horse was trying to offer the warmth of his body to her.

“See, he is worried too.” Bucky pointed out.

“Me, being your princess…” Y/N muttered softly, “Is it the only reason you care for me? Because it is your duty?”

Bucky’s eyes softened as he took Y/N in. Her hair was dripping went and somehow the overcast made the color of her irises emerge.

He reached forward and tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear.

This is all they would allow themselves: subtle touches and longing stares.

Bucky wouldn’t grant himself anything else and Y/N was too scared of what she would feel if she did.

“Do you wish me to leave you?” He asked her, instead of answering her own question.

Y/N shook her head roughly. “I fear the day that you grow bored of me and return to fighting wars.”

Her eyes were filled with nothing but dread and sincerity.

But before Bucky could reply, she was mounting her horse and acting as if nothing had happened.

“The storm has passed.”

Bucky blinked rapidly, trying to process what just happened and return to his usual stoicalness. He mounted Persephone.

“Are we racing?” He failed to succeed in having a playful tone like he intended.

Y/N pulled up the hood of his cloak that she still wore. “Nay, I am in no hurry to return to the castle.”

They walked Moon and Persephone at a sluggish pace. It was as if their horses knew neither of them wanted to leave their tiny escape and return to reality.

Bucky tensed when he heard and felt the galloping of an approaching horse from beyond the hills. But the landscape hid them from view. Bucky rushed Persephone in front of Y/N. Moon reared up on his hind legs, sensing the intruder too. But Y/N calmed him enough to get him back down on all fours.

Bucky unsheathed his sword and readied himself.

But it seemed far too dramatic when Sir Samuel cantered up the hill and made his appearance.

“God almighty, Sam! You almost knocked the princess off her horse from frightening Moon like that.” Bucky scolded.

“He did not!” Y/N rejected, offended by him even considering that she could ever be thrown off a horse.

“My apologies, Your Highness.” Sam bowed his head.

He was one of the few guards that Y/N liked. Him and Bucky were dear friends, though they pretended to despise one another. Sir Samuel, Sir Clinton, Sir Scott, and Sir James Rupert were the only other guards that Bucky trusted with Y/N’s safety when he was not around. Sometimes he would send Peter, his squire, to watch over Y/N when she was stuck in court all day and Bucky was preoccupied.

“Is there a reason for your intrusion, Sam?” Bucky asked gruffly.

Sam eyes went back and forth between Y/N and him.

Bucky glanced over at Y/N to see that she wouldn’t meet his eye and she looked guilty for some reason.

Sam’s jaw tightened. “Her Highness was forbade to leave the castle today. The King sent a dozen men out to look for the two of you.”

Bucky eyed Y/N again, but she was staring into the distance.

“What on God’s name for?” Bucky urged, irritation evident in his tone.

“His Majesty did not clarify.” Sam paused, making sure to choose his next words very, very carefully. “However, I can only assume it relates to the recent arrival of a possible suitor... for Her Highness.”

Bucky stared at Y/N, shaking his head in disapproval at her act of childish defiance.

“Ride ahead, Sam. Tell the King we shall be there shortly.” Bucky ordered.

“And do feel free to also tell the ‘possible suitor’ he can leave and never come back, Sir Samuel.” Y/N added before Sam had turned his horse.

Sam didn’t bother hiding his smirk, always appreciating the princess’ feisty attitude. “I do no wish to get beheaded today, Your Highness. But I will do my best to scare him away.”

Once Sam galloped away, Bucky didn’t break his glare toward Y/N. But she ignored it.

“Was there something you forgot to inform me of, dear princess?” He hissed.

Bucky only called Y/N princess when he was upset with her.

She ignored his question and dismounted, grabbing Moon by the reins to walk him.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Bucky snapped. “Are you blind, James? I am walking Moon back to the castle.”

Bucky was angry and practically jumped from his saddle to march over to her. “You are behaving like an impudent child!” He growled at Y/N as he ripped Moon’s reigns from her hands.

“I would like to engage in what little free will I have left. Thank you very much.”

“Get back on your horse or I will throw you over my own.” Bucky warned.

“Oh, I bet father and this suitor would love seeing me spread across another man’s lap. What a great introduction!” Y/N taunted.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, “I am sure your father would not mind with how you are behaving today.”

But then the rebellious streak ended and Y/N’s eyes almost filled with tears.

“Are you really so eager to hand me off to some strange man?” Y/N whispered.

Bucky blinked as he was blindsided. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Y/N ignored his shock and ripped Moon’s reigns back before mounting again.

“All I wanted was a day alone with you,” Y/N confessed as she looked down from her steed. “I thought you would savor it as I did…not try to rid yourself of me as soon as possible.”

She kicked Moon’s side and galloped off before Bucky could find a reply.

Bucky’s heart sunk as he watched her ride further and further away from him.

----------------------

Part II

I am very, very excited about this AU series. So let me know your thoughts ! 🙏🏻

Series Masterlist

#knight!bucky #knight!bucky x princess!reader #medieval!avengers #medieval!bucky #sir james buchanan #knight bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #heart of steel #knight bucky #marvel au series #bucky insert reader #marvel insert reader

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satyrykal · 6 years ago

Text

Departure Chapter 2 - Back from Hiatus!

Title: Departure

Author: Satyrykal

Pairing: Natsu x Lucy

Genre: Romance/Fantasy

Rating: M

Spoiler Warning: Not in the canon-verse, but pays homage to ideas in the Alvarez arc.

Summary: Natsu has been by her side for years - her faithful guard and the man she was never supposed to fall in love with. Lucy is bound by duty and custom, promised to another - yearning for freedom outside the confines of her grandfather’s court. So when the drums of war throw the kingdom into disarray, they make their move – consequences be damned.

Read the story here, or preview the excerpt below!

Running Chapter Timeline:

1 - 2nd July, X494: Lucy 23, Natsu 25

2 - 2nd July, X484: Lucy 13, Natsu 15

CHAPTER 2 Excerpt – The Beginning

"Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering." – Nicole Krauss, 2005

2nd July, X484

Once upon a time – not yours or mine – lived a girl spun from stars and sunshine.

This is her story.

The sun beat down from overhead as she raced across the field, wind pulling her hair free from its braid in strands of gold. Meadows of summer daisies and lupines passed by, shaded by the thick canopy above as the King's Wood gave way the high grass of the garden green. Her hands were tight and sweaty against the reins as she leaned forward, fingers digging into the fine leather as she urged the gray spotted mare onward.

"Come on Nikora, it's you and me now. Till the end." She whispered, her thighs straddling the horse, savoring the familiar burn in her quads as they galloped faster. She was answered by a thunder of hoofbeats as clots of dirt flew behind them as they tore through the tree line.

Lucy gave a whoop of laughter and charged past the crop of ancient oaks that hid the castle from view. Her eyes flashed amber as she took in the grand turrets, the palace's marbled façade imposing as it loomed ahead.

The gates grew closer as she sped through its arch, giggling at the calls of the sentries that greeted her as her pace slowed to a canter – still fast enough that some raised their voices in warning. Still, it wasn't until the stables were in sight that she reared the mare.

"Slow girl, gentle." She coaxed, lightening her hold until Nikora had geared to a trot, a gentle double beat as she wove her way past the other evening riders.

Smiling softly at the passersby, Lucy kissed her horse's mane – brushing the coarse white strands through her gloved fingers. She breathed deeply, taking in the earthen scent of grain feed and wood before wrinkling her nose at hint of manure that hit her last.

As they came up the walkway, a handler met her to lead her to the mount's stall.

"I've got it Igneel, I can get her ready and comb her down on my own." She told the older man, trying and failing to keep the reins away from him when he reached them.

Igneel cut a tall figure, with broad shoulders that stretched the leather of his jerkin. His hair was pulled sharply back, cascading down his back like liquid wildfire. Lucy had always thought the older man was handsome, though the long scar through his right eye and cheek below it gave him a menacing aura. It had taken some time for her to warm up to the former warrior.

She'd met him shortly after he'd taken over as the royal beastmaster half a decade ago, gaining his attention when the young royal continuously snuck out to the stables when she should have been minding her lessons. However, instead of returning her to her governess as was expected, he'd simply boom with laughter – allowing her to bob between the various stalls as she played hide-and-seek with some poor, harried palace guard on her protection detail.

He'd always had a soft spot for the princess, indulging her love for riding and the measure of freedom it afforded her.

When she continued to whine and fight his grip on the horse's lead, he just grinned shaking his head at her, a piece of hay anchored between his teeth.

"Off you go then Princess, not worth my time to convince you otherwise." He chuckled, patting her leg as he went back to his tack, wiping dirty hands on his stained smock. It wasn't his job to act as a common stable hand, but he'd always doted on the girl.

She beamed at his idle dismissal; teeth white and lips pulled wide as she dismounted – directing her horse back to the corner stall. Grabbing a bucket, she placed it by Nikora who dipped her muzzle into the water immediately, long tongue slurping as she drank greedily.

A few minutes later, Lucy heard a rattle on the path outside as another couple of mounts came into view.

In front was a young girl of about thirteen with a head of smooth blue locks, tied back neatly though a few wisps brushed her pale cheeks. Her legs were looped through the horn of her side saddle, covered by the folds of her sapphire skirts. The newcomer frowned, scanning the space until her gaze landed on a pair of guilty brown eyes peeking out above the corner booth.

"Lucy you promised you would stay with us this time!" The blunette called out, glaring at her friend.

The blonde smiled sheepishly when she was caught, gesturing to her mare.

"I meant to, but Nikora wanted to go faster, and I couldn't tell her no. She's wind-blown." Lucy answered, placing a sugar cube under the horse's mouth. The mare licked it up unhurriedly, tickling the girl's palm.

"Don't yell Juvia, we're already here." The third rider scolded as she too, came to a stop – expression exasperated.

The girls blushed slightly at reproach in the older woman's voice, her own aqua locks held back by a laurel braid that started at her temples, nostrils flared slightly as she peered down at her errant charges.

"Sorry Aquarius, I will keep that in mind." Juvia apologized bobbing her chin down once in respect before dismounting with a nearby page's help. Unlike her friend, she followed decorum as befit her station. She thanked the boy absently, not noticing his stuttered reply as she walked over to the young royal, lifting her skirts up so they did not drag across the mud.

"We saw you riding astride, you know your father would be upset if he found out." Juvia told the princess quietly when she reached her, resting her chin on the wooden divider of the stall as she watched her. Lucy shrugged, still brushing her horse down in broad strokes.

She found the action calming, loving the warmth radiating under her palms.

"Then don't tell him. Beside, I only ever do it on castle grounds – never when it really counts. I just love being able to fly over the hills. The whole world just blurs into colours." She breathed softly, dreamily. She fumbled with her gloves monetarily before yanking them off so she could feel Nikora's coat beneath her fingers.

Juvia nodded once, shoulders slumping.

She had expected as much. Like Igneel, she knew little changed the blonde's mind when it was set.

"You know I never do. I'm going to go back to my rooms to clean up. The representatives of the Mermaid Heel Corps will be arriving by supper. The king says we're to join them at the table." The blunette trailed off, hoping to entice the other girl to come with her.

Her words had the intended effect.

Lucy's ears perked up; her dark irises bright in the light streaming in through the rafters.

The Corps were warrior priestesses of the faith. They had guarded the Temple of Nirvana – deep within the Woodsea – for millennia. Though women were scarcely allowed to join in battle ranks within the borders of her own nation, sacred rights kept them outside the scope of the king's jurisdiction.

"I'll finish up quickly too then." Lucy promised, her cedar eyes shining as her hands indeed flew through Nikora's fur with renewed vigor.

Growing up, she adored hearing about the holy maidens – their exploits transcending fact to legend. They were named for the Nirvana of the Sea who had sent her daughters above on land, changeling sprites who created the first temple order.

Lady Aquarius, her governess, had grown up north of the great Eastern Forest in a township marking where the Clover River spilled into the ocean. When her village had been slaughtered in a raid, the priestesses had taken the older woman in until reinforcements arrived from the capital.

A childhood friend of the late duchess, the stoic blunette had shifted to the palace a decade prior, quickly settling into the role of guardian for the motherless princess. Sometimes when her charge begged, she would display some of the fighting forms she had learned whilst living in the Grand Temple for the little girl.

Lucy was torn from her musings when Juvia waved a manicured hand in front of her face, catching her attention. Eyes crinkling in laughter, the blunette twiddled her fingers in farewell before turning, petticoats still lifted carefully to keep them from the dirt. She sped up the hill to the main castle, Aquarius following at a more sedate pace.

Across the stable, some groomsmen were feeding their horses and putting away the ladies' gear – they movements practiced. Lucy preferred to do it herself, she liked the smell of the hay and the shine of her mare's coat when she was properly brushed down. She liked how this corner of the palace ground made it seem as if she were beyond its towering walls.

As she finished, she wiped her hands on a washcloth a squire had offered her, smoothing flyaways on her head the best she could – her appearance bedraggled. Still, she wasn't too worried, knowing she would be required to change her clothing once she returned to her chambers prior to dinner.

She was latching the mare's gate when she heard neighing coming from a stall near the exit.

Until recently it had been empty.

Curious, she patted Nikora's velvet nose before making her way to the noise. Inside was a tall, beautiful creature with a rick black hide, a single white stripe dabbed its nose and pooled at its feet. Sensing her, the stallion snorted jerking its muzzle in a circle.

Lucy paced back. She pressed her lips together, rocking on the soles of her boots before shifting closer step by step.

"What a gorgeous fellow you are." She breathed, stretching out her palm so he could sniff her. He whinnied loudly in response, as if unsure whether to trust the stranger in front of him. When he didn't bite however, the girl tried to reach further, stepping up on an old crate in order to lean over the railing.

His reaction was immediate.

The stallion reared its head and pawed the ground at her approach, gnashing its teeth. Startled, she lost her footing slightly, catching her riding gear on the lumber and throwing her balance. She grabbed for the side wall, only to miss, her palms grazing the splintering wood in vain.

For a moment, it was as if time stopped.

End of Excerpt

Read the rest at Fanfiction.net!

Chapter 1, 2

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