champion

“Who goes there?” Beauregard’s voice carried out across the Cloverwood forest, eyes darting between trees. They had settled just outside the Garden, keeping careful eye and ear for any enemies that dared step close. It had been the faint ruffling of the wind and a scent not their own that alerted them to the other presence. They took a few steps forward, hand reaching for a weapon they didn’t need. Their wings, a pale ivory, tucked against their back as they prepared for the shift into wolf form, still hoping the visitor was a friendly one. “Only those permitted may enter.” 

“Stop talking.” Dove ran a hand through her hair, eyes closed as she lounged atop a haystack she haphazardly threw a blanket over. “I have a headache and I do not need… talking.” Humans. Always talking… So much to say, so little were important. They stewed there in silence for a few more moments before Dove cracked an eye open to regard him with mild intrigue. 

“Are you not bored? Spending your time among horses all day, they must make for terrible conversation.” 

-

Matheus’ mouth snapped shut without hesitation, his lips pressed together in a fine line. Dove, for lack of better words, owned him. Though he had made his deal with a Lord of the Court, he had been passed down to her like some measly gift. He wasn’t sure if it was supposed to work like that, but he’d be damned if he asked. What mattered was that he was still here, doing his mission. He stood there in silence, watching her for a moment or two before turning his attention back to the steed, wondering if she had come for a reason.

When Dove spoke again, his attention turned back to hers just as easy, gaping for a second as he weighed between the two options of remaining quiet as asked, or ignoring her. “No,” he finally spat out, though it wasn’t entirely truthful and that much was clear. “I, I mean, it could definitely be worse. No, I mean, they’re really intelligent animals that need a lot of caring and I don’t mind doing it.”

Arabella wasn’t quite sure what was more enthralling; getting to see horses from this up close or watching the stablehand practically bounce around the stable itself. “Oh please, it’s all right! R-Really, I’m the one troubling you, dropping in so suddenly.“ She replied sheepishly, tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear bashfully. She hadn’t had many opportunities to speak with humans before, but with her mother and the rest of the delegation off on official business, the princess had been left to her own devices for a change. They were certainly…energetic, if this gentleman was a suitable specimen of study. “I-I’m not really from around here, so I’m afraid I don’t know where to even start. With riding one, that is.”

The young woman approached the mare and the stablehand, eyes shining with curiosity as she examined the unusual creature. She had never seen a horse up close before, at least one that wasn’t in a book. Frankly, it looked far friendlier than the sea serpents she was accustomed to. “Do you think I could, um, pet it, maybe? It-it wouldn’t mind, would it?” Arabella asked, uncertain, but hopeful. “Back home, our creatures tend to be a bit mercurial. I’d be amazed to see anyone try to get a harness on them, without getting flung into the water.” Though it was certainly not for a lack of trying. She had been witness to more than a few occasions where the knights had gotten a bit too cocky around their guardians. “In comparison, these creatures seem so gentle. Pleasant, even.”

Her expression softened slightly as she turned her attention back over to the stablehand. “Do you often get a chance to ride? What’s it like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

-

Matheus had only been at court for a year, but in that time he’d met only a few fae that were actually nice to him. He didn’t blame them, specifically. To them, he was a lower species, barely worth the acknowledgement. But there were some, far and few between, who treated Matheus like he was more than just a servant-- or a pet-- and Matt appreciated them more than he’d ever let on. It was times like this, fae like this girl in front of him, that made him less and less sure about his mission every day. “Oh. Well, it’s not too hard, if you ride the right one. Some of them are testy, but they’re usually reserved for the guards or others who know how to handle them.”

Fingers moved across the mane of the horse, looking at the girl with his mouth agape for the slightest of seconds before he snapped it shut, bobbing his head up and down. “Yeah, yeah, she’s really friendly. Here,” he took a step forward so he was within the mare’s line of sight, holding his free hand out for the fae girl as the other steadied it’s face. The horse huffed out a little breath and he gave her an easy smile in hopes that it’d help.

“I don’t usually ride, honestly. I don’t own any of the horses, so unless I’m asked to exercise one of them, I’d actually, uh, get in trouble if I tried. Probably. I guess I haven’t tried.”

@meadcwslight​

“Up here, kid.” The rebel leader lounged against the arm of the formidable tree, one leg hanging off the edge. His back pressed against the bark, as he allowed the leaves to cast a shade over him. The journey to the Spring Court was more favorable than others, with its proximity to Cloverwood Forest being of great convenience. Granted, the forest was home to many threatening creature. But Santiago had studied their habits enough, to manage coming and going as needed. In this case, the pre-arranged meeting with the young Matheus Murtaugh. The young rebel was immersed in the Spring Court as a stablehand. A discreet assignment, meant to bring him closer to the High Fae’s. Should he succeed, a great honor to both himself and his father. But Santiago cared little for honor or pride. Matheus, as he’d learned throughout the years, was a great many things. A caring boy, an instinctive person… But this was a dangerous game. One that, in Santiago’s opinion, he was ill-suited or prepared for. Never the less, he agreed to the elder Murtaugh’s plan. Leadership, he was beginning to learn, was never a one-way street.

Still, he fretted, and insisted on meetings such as these. A way to learn what Matheus knew, while simultaneously keeping a watchful eye. With a friendly smile, he pushes himself off the branch, swinging down until his feet hit the grass. He surveys Matheus with a warm chuckle, lightly poking his side. “What? They don’t feed you here?” He kids, yet his voice revealed an open concern. “How are you fairing? Have they laid a hand on you?”

If anybody had seen Matheus in that moment, they would have known something was up. He wasn’t entirely sure that this was safe, meeting up with Santiago, even in the confines of the shrubbery. If someone saw them, they would surely catch on to his mission and they’d both be in danger. He kept looking over his shoulder, wondering where Santiago would come from and whether or not he’d be hidden enough. He shouldn’t have doubted, Santiago was the leader of their resistance for a reason, but it took a startled yelp out of him anyways when the other spoke up. He placed a hand to his chest as Santiago seemed to propel off the tree with ease, trying to let himself relax. It was near impossible to do so close to the fae, but just a little easier when Santiago was around.

“They, uh... I mean, I eat.” It was usually scraps, leftovers that he would grab from the kitchen when the rest had already eaten. Some nights he would be lucky enough to get cheese with his bread, but other nights their princess was kind enough to bring him more than he probably deserved. “No, no, nothing like that. They just, uhm- I just mostly do stuff in the stables? Sorry, no, that wasn’t a question. I just mostly do stuff in the stables. They’re pretty strict about how the animals are cared for, but I’m used to strict.” He shrugged. “Nobody hitting me.” He added after a beat, worried that wasn’t clear.

beau + cassian

It was good to be home. He might have grown to appreciate the Winter Court during his stay there, but it was nothing compared to Cloverwood Forest, and most specifically, the Widowed Oak. He’d been born and raised on pack land, after all, and no amount of time spent away from it would be enough to damper his love for the woods and the wolves. There was a part of him that wished, however foolishly, that he’d one day be able to show Tatiana where he lived and where he grew up, but he wasn’t nearly enough of an idiot to believe that it would ever be possible. She was a princess and he was an honest to god wolf in sheep’s clothing play-acting as her guard.

Still. Men weaker than him had lived off of hopes and dreams before, what mattered most was that he still knew where he belonged at the end of the day, and that was right here at home. With Tatiana away at Spring Court for the weekend—and not at all in need of a personal bodyguard due to the despicable High Lord and his equally-insufferable War General—Cassian had taken it upon himself to pay a quick visit back to the Wild Hunt. It had been a while since he’d last checked in with Lucien, the Wolf King was looking for answers in regards to the newly-formed alliance between Winter Court and Spring Court, and Cassian was already dreading that conversation in particular. What he wasn’t dreading at all however was the opportunity to catch up with the familiar faces from his upbringing, the pack that he’d once had to conjure up in his mind every night before bed just so that he could get any amount of sleep in Winter Court.

And he’d start here, with a head of curls and a set of dark eyes he’d know absolutely anywhere. “Ay, Samson,” he called out with an incline of his head as he stepped further into the woods, he’d yet to reach the Oak but could only assume that Beau themselves was on their way back from guard duty. With an easy, languid smile tugging at his lips, he adjusted his rucksack over his broad shoulders, shifting his bronze-tipped wings out of the way as he made his way towards his fellow wolf. “What’s the newest Garden-grown gossip? Any scantily-clad nymph cat-fights you want to fill me in on?”  He was teasing, the twitch in his crooked grin proof enough of that alone, when he finally reached Beau, he placed a large hand on their shoulder in familial greeting. “You look good, Samson. Strong. You’ve been doing alright?” 

@meadcwslight​

Beauregard didn’t find joy in much these days, but on the list of things they tended to dread was the trek between the Garden and the Widowed Oak. It wasn’t often a trek that they made anymore, nor was it typically a long one, but the familiar beaten down path only held memories of that disastrous day and Beau avoided it if they could. Instead, they would hike several hours out of the way, taking a far more indirect route. They stepped carefully around wild flowers and tree stumps, their mind consumed with the meaningless comings and goings of the Nymph’s of the garden, avoiding any thought of her. It would do no good to linger on her smile or her stories. No, those were just reminders of what they couldn’t have.

A snap of a twig was the first sign that they weren’t the only ones in the wooded area, and though their head snapped wildly in the direction of the noise, they were quickly greeted by an old friend. There was nobody that Beauregard trusted more than Cassian. They had been fast friends since Beau could truly remember and they told him everything. Even now with both of them stationed away from the Widowed Oak and the two met up as often as they could. He was the only one that Beauregard felt they could truly be themselves around. “You don’t need me for Gossip, do you? Don’t those fancy High Fae get into enough drama for you?” 

They returned the greeting with one of their arms looping around Cassian’s back just long enough to pat the other between his wings before withdrawing. They straightened a little, if only on principle, before adding a nod. “As well as I can be. I don’t like to train in the Garden if I can help it, don’t like to risk putting any of the Nymph’s at risk, but I found a nice alcove nearby for the days I can’t make it home. What about you? They treating you alright over at the Winter Court?”

“Okay, so,” Matheus bounced from one foot to the other, one hand still settled on the course hide of the steed next to him. “I washed, brushed, and fed them, only- uhm, only the finest feed, of course. I-” He stopped talking just as he stopped moving, realizing that his constant bouncing was probably more irritating than he wanted. “Did you uh, want to take it for a ride? ‘Cause I can get everything ready for that, if you, uhm... want.” Instead of the bouncing, his spare hand started fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, the edges of which were already frayed from the constant nervous fidgeting he seemed to showcase.

tw: death of family member, auto-immune disease

tw: death of parent, death in general tbh, anxiety