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‘I could never hold you back truly,’ “You have taken from me.” He repeated. If that was not a form of holding back then she could call him stupid as well as fool. She sounded perplexed by his revelation, and a part of him liked that he’d left her momentarily lost without her usual mockery. But it was true, she had held him back. Had done just that in the hollow. Another one of his plans had been foiled. But this time, instead of slinking back into the undergrowth a failure of a man because his own plan had been thwarted by his own hand, he blamed her. The way he saw it, she had taken away his opportunity to snatch himself a companion that would have been entirely impressionable. It would have accepted his flaws and eccentricities because at such a young age, he’d presumed the little blue freak would have known no better… or perhaps had no choice. It was easy for him to think that if Lucrezia hadn’t been there, her pointed glare seething with judgement, the outcome would have been different. He could have been more beast than flustered fool. How could she not know that she’d always possessed some semblance of control over him? As much as he had loved to goad her, to be the bully, he’d only ever been able to go so far. Her needs, her wants, her way, well, they had always surpassed his in the end. He didn’t even need to ask himself why, he knew even if she didn’t. It was because she was of Rodrik. The only king he’d ever follow. The only man who could claim the unwavering loyalty of a beast such as he - and to the surprise of many no doubt - could have. Even if it was loyalty from afar and held from a time so long ago. He did not know where Rodrik roamed now. It was bittersweet that he’d found Lucrezia instead. Lucrezia, who had always met his bluff and did not feign away from it now. She stepped boldly towards him as he had done to her. Her shadow casting across his swollen and bruised chest, the mist of her words coolly felt against the streaky sweat of his skin. ‘What exactly do you want?’ she asks of him, teased him. Her eyes sparkling with what he suddenly decided could only be some sick form of laughing condescension and nothing more. Did she not take him seriously? Having branded him a fool too many times to count, did she not think he could be anything more? Do anything more? It was impossible to become anymore tense without cramping. Once again Lucrezia had flung him into the start of another game he did not feel like playing but was nonetheless drawn into all the same. “Give me damn strength!” he raged aloud to himself more than at her. “I was ATTACKED!” he snapped, his patience having worn thin. Did it matter that it had been he who'd originally had the intent on doing the attacking? Whatever. In the end that’s not how it went down. Clarisse’s hooves had pummelled him square in the chest. Gingerly, he prodded the tip of his muzzle against the sore mound of inflammation. It hurt. “This happened because of you." And he had no doubt a large bruise blossomed beneath the cardinal red hairs there, even if it wasn’t exactly visible to another’s eye. "You got in the way! And that thief of a mare stole MY foal.” It all sounded incredibly immature, yet he hardly found it in himself to care. “I want something to right your wrong.” What did he want? What could she spare? Answers? Knowledge? Something more? Hell, he didn’t know what he wanted exactly, but the idea of taking something more than he deserved felt good. Especially if it was from her. |
hahaha I misspelled a word, it should have been disdained.
I’m reading it and I’m like yeah, that’s right, Lu’s never held him back, he always did his thing. -rereads own post to find misspelled word that means something else- whoops, my mistake, I worked with it.
