The Ugly Side of Beauty

Drustan

Trying to avoid a crowd in Glenmore was like trying to avoid a swarm of biting midges. They buzzed around, all talking at once, getting up his nose and giving him a headache. Herbalists were the worst of the lot, arguing about the best salve for the job. Drustan would much rather have some peace and quiet; slamming his antlers at full speed into another stag’s tended to leave him with a splitting headache. The fresh gouge across the front of his chest and shoulder stung, but it would hardly kill him. Fighting Lord Rafe in front of the entire herd had not been one of his more intelligent actions as King, but he could admit now that the testosterone and adrenaline was fading that he hadn’t exactly been using his brain.

Spotting his salvation in the form of a nervous princess doe, Drustan wrangled his way through the concerned mob and stood beside her. “Thank you, all, for your concern, however your services will not be required.” He addressed the crowd, relieved when they finally began to disperse when they saw he had far better healing assistance in the form of a Princess. With a sigh, he dipped his head and brushed Fenella’s cheek with his nose. Drustan lowered his voice to a soft mutter, glancing around to check for eavesdroppers. “I apologise for using you as an excuse to make them leave. I wasn’t sure how else to get rid of them.” He gave her a tired smile, and glanced longingly towards the forest. “Tis but only a scratch,” he mocked, “They make it sound as if my leg is about to fall off. All I want to do is go to my den and rest.”

He was tired, his energy spent in the fight, but to show it in front of the herd was tantamount to weakness. He’d already caused some confusion by refusing to claim the spoils of the fight - Scarlet - but he knew even if he’d even tried to uphold the tradition he would be sporting wounds to his reputation as well as his shoulder.

Without really thinking about the words before they were out, he turned to Fenella and asked, “Would you like to join me?”

It was not as if he saw the Princess as some kind of consolation prize - far from it - but with the remnants of his anger at Lord Rafe still stirring his blood, and the dull ache of his bleeding shoulder throbbing in turn with his fresh new migraine, he could think of nothing more soothing than the quiet company of the delicate doe. At least, he mused, there was no chance he would fall back on old habits with the chaste doe while his mood was influenced by the rut. With Fenella, there were no old habits. Their relationship, or lack thereof, was blissfully free of sour thoughts and bitter memories. He liked the simplicity, to even think about making it complicated was something he refused to do. “Just to rest,” he clarified quickly, before gesturing for her to follow.


Fenella

Fear, confusion and perhaps just a tiny bit of excitement. The later she pushed back. She shouldn't feel like that. There was no thrill...oh there was...it was...something with watching him fight. Never before had she seen him in this way. The way his muscles had played under his hide, his grunts of exertion as he and the other stag, Lord Rafe, pushed and shoved eachother back and forth. Fenella had seen the red doe, one she didn't know the name of, one of common birth. She had bit back what she wanted to say as she had heard how the Lord had mocked his King as the Lord had tried to woo the red doe. How dare he say such things?! She had to bite her tongue however, but let her eyes and ears speak of how she thought of the matter. The first part of it all she hadn't heard but what she had heard had been enough. However as the fight went from just a showing off she became more nervous.

What would happen if, Áillte forbid it, Lord Rafe won? Surely he couldn’t be made king then? She didn't want to belong to him. Part of her didn't want to see anymore but another part kept her where she stood. Relief found her as the fight finally ended. Only then she realized she had held her breath for a good while and as she exhaled she felt the effects of it. Then she spotted his rack, making his way towards her. When she felt his hide against hers she wasn't sure if it was his touch or the lack of air that made her feel a little faint. It wasn't like he had avoided her... but it was like he kept his distance except for those occasional sniffs like he wanted to check on her.

The touch on her cheek made another shiver go through her. He had won the right of the red doe but he had left her behind. Instead he had come to her. That should have made her happy but.. there was that feeling she couldn't shake. A feeling regarding the red doe and her King. She noted his scrape on the chest and shoulder. Then he spoke low, excusing himself, for that fact that he had come to her. Did that hurt so he wanted to go to his den. She simply shook her head slowly. "Oh, that is not a problem, my King...Its fi-" she mumbled, only to be interrupted by his next words, halting her own. Join...him?

She couldn't hide the surprise in her blue eyes even if she just glanced at him. As she did she saw that he looked tired but that shouldn't be odd considering what he just had done. It was rut afterall so...the request wouldn’t be a odd one. A soft smile began to play at the corners of her mouth. It faded however as the stag spoke again but she still did what he asked, and followed him towards his den, her head obediently bowed down. Why wasn't she good enough?


Drustan

The King’s den was not far from the main glade - a fact he was glad of as by the time they got there his shoulder had stiffened considerably. He considered calling the herbalists after all, though the idea of being poked and prodded for a few hours quickly discouraged him. Fenella followed almost silently, and he had to glance back every now and then to see if she was still there.

As usual the demure doe kept her eyes down, and Drustan started to regret inviting her after all. She looked as if she would rather be elsewhere, and it wasn’t exactly as if he was going to be stunning company. He took in a breath, meaning to say she was free to go if she pleased, but would that only confuse her more? Did he want to stand here alone with nothing but trees for company? Despite being surrounded by fawnlings on a daily basis, the King quite often felt alone with all his worries and secrets. The return of the Oak had solved one great worry, but he would never be free of them.

Fenella herself was one of those worries; had he trapped her like a songbird forced to sit pretty and quiet on a branch for the sake of tradition? If he’d have known everything he knew now before he claimed her as his betrothed, he would not have done it. He felt sorry for the doe, forced to be with a stag who refused to even allow himself to be a friend to her, for fear that one day their association would harm her and everyone he cared for. The fear that the herd would ever turn on him was one that plagued him daily, so much so that he was now accustomed to the feeling of impending doom. It wasn’t all that bad when you were used to it.

Instead he let the breath out in a sigh, wincing as the motion teased at the gash. He felt just as selfish as he had the first time he had used Fenella for comfort, but was it worse to push her away? He couldn’t presume to know what she thought about him, it wasn’t as if he could blurt out and ask her, but he had empathy enough to see that the doe meant only to please him and follow tradition, the way a Princess should. The way BóAnn never had.

He couldn’t be the King that she expected, he couldn’t let her close, but pushing her away when she was allowed no-one else seemed cruel.

The young King smiled cordially, gesturing at the neatly maintained clearing. One of the benefits of being King, was that there were a battalion of servants and hoofmaidens to keep your glade clear of sticks and dried leaves. The den itself was an ancient old cave-like construction, built by King Ragnar’s grandfather, out of woven vines and branches. It offered shelter from the wind and snow, though it was too old now to keep out heavy rain. “Make yourself at home,” he suggested, “I just need to clear this little scratch up.”

Turning away from the Princess so as not to disturb her with the grisly wound, he set about trying to clear the matted blood away from his shoulder. The angle was awkward and it seemed the more he cleared away, the more fresh blood would seep from the wound. He grumbled under his breath, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth adding queasyness to his growing list of ailments. The gouge was deeper than he’d first thought, and the dull pain was beginning to become distinctly uncomfortable now that the adrenaline was clearing. Perhaps he would have to bear the prodding of the herbalists before he could sleep after all.


Fenella

Like a nervous flock of blackbirds in her chest, nervous for that looming shadow that could be a bird of prey she tried her best to breathe calmly, control, a princess never lost her control. It was the one thing she could control, it was the control over herself. She had to have control her of manners, her expressions, as well as her temper. Fenella suppressed a sigh and turned it into a exhale instead. She heard his intake of breath, and sensing that he wanted to say something she shyly looked up, forcing herself to hold her gaze upon him. But there were no words from him, just that exhale. She then saw him wince and she couldn't help but worry. His wounds must hurt. The expression on his face, it was like his mind where elsewhere but then it broke in a smile. She tried to smile back. Somehow it didn't feel... real... Her heart dropped just a little. If he could just tell her what she did wrong. Surely... surely he knew she couldn't ask herself.

The stag gave a nod, directed towards the clearing and the den that both seemed and looked very old. He made her an offer that she could feel at home in his glade... She didn't move from her spot, instead she just looked around from where she were. It was the first time she was here. She looked at the den. Gnarly branches, vines weaving them firm together. Sturdy and secure, used by the kings before him. Would the Crown Prince use it in turn? Strangely she couldn't scent her sister here. Perhaps he stayed at her den instead of her coming here, especially when she had her fawns. In a way it pleased her she couldn't scent the smell of any unknown does here. She got pulled from her thoughts by his words. She gave a silent nod. With that he turned away from her - again - and the thorn that seemed to have wedged its way into her heart, felt like it stung just a little bit more.

She saw him wince as he tried to clean the wound on his shoulder. For a moment she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Don't let him see it hurts. She wasn't Bo, but when the Great Oak fell... she had helped the wounded the best she could. Storms scared her now and she wished she had somewhere to seek shelter whenever they came. It wasn't in the sense of... an actual shelter, she had that. It was more... to seek shelter with someone, one that would calm her as she saw all those burned bodies before her eyes again.

A thought went to her hoofmaiden. A kind doe, and good hearted, one that served her well, not that she would say those words out loud or to her face. It could very well go to her head. She did praise her sometimes, subtly of course. She exhaled deeply as she took one final look on the stags thicket without taking a step closer. Like she would have shoo a fly away, she chased away her thoughts. Her life wasn't in the centre now... his was. She looked up just in time to see the stag shudder. Pushing away her fear and her nerves she carefully and silently made her way up beside him. He seemed not to have heard her because he did seem to be startled.

"My King... pardon me for being... so bold... but may I help you with your wounds? My magic is not like my sisters... yet... but I’m sure I can help you... if you let me." Oh how she wanted to say more, beg him to let her help him, to show him that she was a good princess, that he didn’t... had to be so disappointed with her so he would turn her away. Her eyes didnt dare stay in his gaze for too long but she did her best to force them to return.


Drustan

At the sound of Fenella’s voice, the sable stag turned, automatically shifting his body so the wound was hidden. It was a silly boyish thing, a habit he’d picked up growing up with Donngahán as a brother and encountering the bullish colts that liked to ingratiate themselves with royalty. Being pale and slim, he was already at a disadvantage. As soon as he reacted to an injury that was only more cause for mockery. ‘Aw, Princess gunna run to mummy? Poor little filly has a booboo, you gunna cry little girl?’ Acting as if an injury was nothing was second nature to the stag, and instinctively he balked at the idea of letting Fenella know that he was weakened.

Huffing, he chastised himself. He wasn’t a colt any more, but regardless, he didn’t want to trouble sweet Fenella with it. Princesses - at least until Nuala had returned - could do their best for open wounds but he wouldn't have thought to trouble one with a wound as extensive as this. It was usually up to the herbalists and a great deal of time to heal that sort of gash. Was he underestimating their power? Glenmore had been stagnant for so long that it was hard to even comprehend that the Oak had been regrown with earth magic, let alone believe that light magic could be gaining in power too.

He set his seagreen eyes on the young Princess; did she offer out of courtesy, or because she thought her magic could help? He wasn’t sure why he always assumed she was younger than BóAnn. They had been born the same year, yet Fenella’s shy and quiet disposition made her seem the younger of the two. He’d avoided Fenella’s foster sister for the best part of a year, speaking to her only out of necessity and to keep up appearances, but her reputation for healing was slowly growing. Could Fenella possess the same talent, but just be more humble about it?

Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt to let her have a look, would it? And if she couldn’t see to it, he could call on the herbalists or even visit Nuala. She had made the brave effort to meet his eyes, and he couldn’t very well deny her when she gifted him that. He finally gave a nod, and turned so that she could inspect the wound.

It was a long scrape across his left shoulder, almost a hoof-widths deep in places but it mostly traveled over bone and lean muscle. It started in the crook of his neck and shoulder above his chest, slicing across the point of his lower scapula before tapering off across the broad meat of his shoulder. A secondary slice shallower than the first ran parallel to the first across his shoulder, closer to his withers where another of Rafe’s tines had made contact in the same attack. The rest of his injuries were merely bruises under the skin from collisions, aches and sprains that would work their way out in a few days. Blood seeped at a leisurely rate down his left foreleg, slowing again now that he had stopped nosing at it. It definitely did not even rank in the top ten worst wounds Drustan had ever seen, not even the top twenty, but it seemed... inappropriate to expose such a grisly business to the sweet Princess doe. The stag thought it odd that Áillte should gift the most beautiful of their kind with the ability to deal with the most ugly part of their world.

“Don’t feel you have to,” he murmured, knowing that she did, “I can call the herbalists to see to it...”


Fenella

She slowly made her way closer to the sable stag and stood beside him, meeting his eyes as he mumbled the words. "I know you can, my King...and I’m sure they would do their job well...but..." swallowing hard she then tenderly touched his shoulder with her nose. It felt hot. She spotted some dirt in his pelt. Could there be the beginning of an infection. There were herbs she knew, that could pull the infections out of wounds but...as good as they were...they worked slow... This was a big wound, and by the looks of it more than just a tear in some places. If the infection got hold of the blood, it could become bad, very bad.

“...please, let me...” Carefully she lifted her nose to the very top of the wound and gently started to clean the more shallow parts. She suppressed a cringe at the first metallic taste and force herself to continue. She had to find something in her mind that would trigger her magic. Something good. It was hard. Still she continued her search and while she cleaned the wound. If she didn't managed to heal it completely she didn't want to risk sealing in some of the dirt inside. The memory of the rebirth of the oak was good, she felt the soft tingle, and she grasped for the feeling with her mind. She needed more. The return of her long lost sister, another tingle. Stronger now she took a step closer, leaning just slightly against him, so more of her came in contact with his shoulder than just the parts she touched with her nose. Some of the blood that had dripped down his leg got smeared on her own, but at this point the doe didn't notice. She clung to the bits and pieces of good she remembered. The way she had Bo had played as fawns. It was like she was pushing against something she couldn't see, something in the shadows. Was it the infection she had sensed moments ago. Like a real shadow it moved away from her light as it tried to hide in the deeper ends. She had to find more strength, more so she could reach.

The colors of the trees had been fiery bright against a blue sky that was some hues darker than her eyes, the air brisk and clear. She inhaled deeply, it was almost like she was running and needing it to keep her speed up, and it was like she could relive that moment it time, how she had felt then. The guard had brought her to him, and then he had left them. She had scented the Captain, and she had seen his dark form move in the bush behind the King. She knew that he might have called her to let her know what stag she would be given to but to hear...that he had chosen her for himself. The touch of his muzzle was real on her withers, and at the whisper of her name, she found the trigger she needed. A small gasp escaped her and for a moment she pressed herself harder against his shoulder. She felt a tremble but wasn't sure if it was him...or herself.

For a moment the world spun and she felt herself fighting to remain standing.


Drustan

He gritted his teeth stubbornly at first, no matter how gentle her administrations were it caused his shoulder to sting at the touch. He tried not to shift uncomfortably or complain. He knew she was only trying her best, but she was young and inexperienced, and petulantly in his moment of discomfort the stag briefly wondered what she could really accomplish? His mind wondered, trying to find the most diplomatic way to say he appreciated the gesture but perhaps there was someone else more... qualified.

It started slowly at first, so subtle that he hardly noticed, but soon the pain of it felt lessened. He craned his head to watch her, seeing her concentrate as she continued to clean the wound. She seemed entranced as she pressed herself closer, her shoulder and flank against his chest and her nose held against the wound. He could feel a peculiar warmth spreading through his shoulder and it was all he could do not to balk. The way it moved through him without giving him a choice was reminiscent of the horrible invasive magic of the black witch, but that was where the similarity ended.

Fenella’s magic was warm and soothing, whereas the witch’s had been cold and abrasive. The Princess took away the pain, and the witch fed on it. Nevertheless, his heart sped for a moment and it was only when the Princess began to faintly glow that the fear of having his free will taken again dissipated. Carefully he bowed his head and brushed his nose against her shoulder. “Fenella,” he whispered, closing his eyes to revel in the warmth and light that intensified, absently rubbing his chin against her flank as all pain from his shoulder and head was washed away. It was only the merest impression compared to the light that had consumed them at the regrowth of the Oak, but even Fenella’s touch stirred the dormant magic in his chest, as weak as it was. For a moment he could feel the earth beneath their feet, the strength in the roots and the interruption of every rock and pebble under the surface of the glade. But as soon as it had come it was gone.

Through his closed eyelids he saw the blissful glow fade and he opened them, feeling Fenella waver against him. “Fenella?” He asked, concerned. The hind seemed exhausted, and it appeared that only his support was keeping her on her feet. The stag was instantly worried, and he held her tight against him. He looked around frantically for help, and it was then that he saw something... bizarre.

In a ring around the pair, it appeared that a dozen moles had made a circle of hillocks, still with grass on top. As if they had tried to build a wall around them but only managed a few inches of sporadic protection; more of a trip hazard than a barrier. Drustan gave the strange formation a sideways glance. Something told him the answer wasn’t moles. Had he done that? How had he done that?

Notwithstanding, he had other more important concerns at the moment. Whatever the Princess had done - he had yet to see his shoulder but he could hardly feel the wound now - it must have exhausted her. “Fenella? Are you alright? Do you need to lay down?” At this rate he was going to have to call the herbalists for her instead. He was gripping her so tightly to keep her from falling that he was scared of hurting the delicate doe.


Fenella

It had never been like this before. There had always just been the soft tingles, like a gentle breeze against your face. This had been like a gale, hitting her with full force. Now her legs was weak, like she had fought against it, trying to get forward. Or perhaps it was like she had been swimming against the current. Either way, if it hadn't been for that grip she would have fallen. She heard the beating of her heart in her ears. Rhythmic, soothing in a way, her slight dizziness remained. She heard her name be called, but it was like she heard it through a thick mist. As she tried to lift her head to see the one who had called on her, her hind legs buckled under her. A startled yet somewhat muffled bleat-like sound came from her as her front legs in turn failed to keep her upright.

She didn't feel herself hitting the ground. Just... peace... Tired, she was so tired. She hadn't been before, but now... it was like all she wanted to do was sleep. The feeling reminded her about what happened at the Great Oak, she had felt sleepy then too. But this was different. That time it had been someone guiding her, this time it felt like it had exploded in her face. Stubbornly she tried to hold on to her control, not letting go of what she had. No, she couldn't, she couldn't rest... not right now... But... if it was just for a little... just a little while... just... closing her eyes for a moment... that surely couldn't be bad of her, of a princess. Slowly the doe relaxed, let her control go, and drifted away.

The voices made her jolt, sounding suddenly so close, and then as she opened her eyes, the faces of some she wasn't sure she had seen, at least not so close to her own. She tried to get up and her head began to spin slightly by the sudden motion. Who ever it was wouldn't let her get up. They mumbled something that sounded like comforting sounds but it still scared her. She wouldn't normally kick anybody but now she flailed her legs hoping she would hit something, so it would give her a chance to get up, and get away. However when she heard his voice, she stopped moving... he hadn't left her... it wasn't like her dreams...


Drustan

She didn’t need to answer, as her legs folded involuntarily and the stag tried his best to steady her descent with his forelegs. Anxiously he nuzzled at her poll and ears but it was evident she was too drained to even respond. It was only the fact that she still breathed - deeply as if asleep - that stopped the morbid thought that she might have died from crowding in. He had enough nightmare fuel to count on without adding to it. If he didn’t know any better, he would say she had just fallen asleep like a fawn who had played until the sun set, but since he did know better and he was not taking any chances with Fenella’s well being he uttered two sharp barks.

There was a brief pause, and a rustle, and then two guards melted out of the treeline. They cast their eyes around the clearing before settling on their King, clearly concerned at the situation but awaiting orders patiently. Drustan was not usually one to be sharp, but he snapped orders for them to fetch Nuala and the herbalists. “But sir, the prisoner, you said she’s not to—”

“And now I’m saying bring her here,” He barked, turning his steely gaze on the dark bay stag. The pair of them slunk away without another argument. He had half a mind to report them to Aytan for not jumping to follow orders. Supposedly he was King, after all.

Huffing, Drustan nuzzled the sleeping doe again and took a first glance at his shoulder. To his astonishment, the worst of the wound was closed, the shallowest parts neatly fused back together with scar tissue as if it had been healing for weeks not mere minutes.  He instantly regretted ever doubting her, chastising himself for thinking anything so rashly. He could blame his hormones, his lingering irritation at Rafe’s challange, but he knew there was no excuse. He would just have to make it up to her some how. Shaking his head in disbelief at her power, he was gratefully cleaning the red smears from the creamy doe’s nose and leg when the troop of herbalists arrived.

Instantly they started to crowd round the sable stag but he shooed them away to look at the princess instead. They ummed and ahhed and wittered on about the malodies of does, and Drustan deemed them entirely useless. A contingent of guards finally arrived, Nuala in their midst, as if the feathered Princess required a battalion. What did they think she was doing to do, he thought grouchily, turn into a swan and fly away?

Gruffly, Drustan shooed them to the outskirts of the clearing and greeted Nuala with a half-smile. He bullied his way through the herbalists hovering around Fenella so that Nuala could peer down at her younger foster sister. Drustan held his breath until Nuala smiled. “She’s fine, just tired. Her heart and breath is strong, but her magic is low.” She glance over the King, eyes lingering on his shoulder. Frowning, she nosed the recently closed wound. “Trying to heal something like that would explain it.” She added, turning her frown on Drustan.

The King instantly backpedaled. “She said she was just going to look! The next thing I knew...” He shrugged, looking down on the exhausted doe with a mixture of fondness and worry.

“Well don’t let her try it again,” she chastised, “At least not until she’s stronger. Using magic when the result is more ambitious than you can manage can cause serious harm! She’s lucky she didn’t try and heal it completely, or she would be worse than asleep.” The pale doe nuzzled her adopted sister gently. Fenella stirred and the herbalists crowded in excitedly. The young doe panicked and some well-to-do herbalist instructed her to lie still which only frightened her more.

Drustan grumbled defensively under his breath and gestured sharply for the herbalists to back away, butting one away with the flat of an antler when he didn’t move fast enough. “Hush, Fenella it’s alright,” he leaned over and lipped gently at some of her mane that had fallen into her face. “Just rest.” The hind quietened at his touch and he sighed. The herbalists had plenty to say about calming balms and herbs to smell to draw her awake fully but Drustan simply looked to Nuala.

“Just let her sleep as long as she needs to, and don’t let her do anything strenuous for a few days. I’d like to talk to her then, if I may?” Drustan nodded and ignored the protests of the herbalists. Nuala smiled and turned back to the guards that had escorted her there. “If you’ll excuse me then, I think I can hear Nimue’s hungry bleating from here.”

Drustan gladly dismissed the guards and the herbalists, leaving him alone with the sleeping princess. Carefully so as not to wake or worry her, he settled down beside her inside their fort of molehills and groomed what he could reach of her until his own exhaustion began to set in. It still astounded him that the young princess had tried so hard to heal him that she might hurt herself. Did she truly think so much of him? It was the same courageousness that she had shown before the Oak had been regrown, and she had come to stand beside him in the face of all of Glenmore. Who could know that inside such a sweet unassuming doe that there was the heart of a lion.


Fenella

Something woke her. She slowly opened her eyes. It was dark all around her, it had to be night but she could not remember the sunset. Her entire body felt drained, just trying to move felt like a tremendous task. The sound came again, it was close. She almost stopped breathing as something moved behind her back and the warmth shifted slightly. Very carefully she lifted her head. The dizziness came again but not as much as before. She couldn't help her surprise as she saw Drustan. There wasn't much of his wound she could see, but of what she could see it seemed ok. A soft smile started to play at the corners of her mouth. When the snore suddenly came she couldn't help that it startled her, even if she now saw who had made the sound that had woke her. His ears moved like he tried to scare off flies that wasn't there, every now and then they flicked back flat against his neck. His muzzle moved but if he actually said anything she couldn't make it out.

Gently she leaned forward and touched his nose with hers. It wasnt the same kind of touch like she had done before but it was just as gentle. She sniffed his cheek like he had been a little colt with a bad dream. "Hush my King, rest..." she whispered "...your Kingdom is safe...I won’t leave your side..." His motions stilled, like he had heard her. For a moment longer she looked at him, feeling brave to do so as the stag slept, before she laid her head down again, this time close to his. The smile lingered on the doe even after she fell asleep.