no past life has been lived to lend us glory
and that which existed before us is not ours
Kahraman immediately recognises the stallion, and as the palomino overo male approaches, the Akhal-Teke stallion turns his ears back. The muscles in his body tense, but after several moments, he manages to relax when it becomes clear that the Bachelor isn’t going to come for him again. Still a little cautious, Kahraman merely gives a soft snort by way of agreement in response to the other male’s words. He certainly felt rough. The other stallion snickered, and Kahraman twitched an ear in response. He did not think it so funny. The escape from his homeland alone had taken a heavy toll on him, not to mention the overo’s territorial retaliation when he’d unknowingly trespassed into his land. The earlier aggression he’d witnessed led Kahraman to wonder… What was the stallion doing here now? Had he followed him, to finish him off?
The apology took Kahraman by surprise. He moved his head slightly, twitching his injured ear involuntarily and wincing. It must look bad, if the sight of it had prompted an apology. “I have had worse injuries,” Kahraman said lightly, accepting the other male’s words with grace. Silence settled then, and the Teke wondered why the other lingered. Perhaps he felt sorry for Kahraman. The notion was a strange and unfamiliar one, and the cremello stallion spent a moment exploring the idea. He’d never been pitied before. Envied, certainly, and admired by many. He’d allowed himself to be blinded by the adoration of his people, unaware of the way his own father was manipulating him. Kahraman was blind no longer. His eyes, which had grown unfocused in his pondering, now sharpen and fixed itself on the palomino and white brute.
It took Kahraman a moment to understand what the male was saying, largely unused to this language. The offer confused him, and gave him a moment’s pause. After being deeply betrayed by the one he was closest to, it was understandable that Kahraman hesitate, especially considering he’d not long ago been chased out of the very place to which he was now being invited back to. True, looking back he acknowledged that his swift and confident charge into the territory had not been a wise move on his part, however, he hadn’t the time back then to explain that he was merely eager to put distance between himself and the ocean and take cover from sight.
It was doubtful that any would have pursued him this far, but one mare came to mind – the most loyal of his father’s underlings, a foreigner who’d been as the King’s very shadow. In any case, when one’s very life was under threat, one did not always think clearly. Here in the meadow, however, even in the company of the one who’d attacked him earlier, Kahraman was at peace, and he mulled over the stallion’s offer, appreciative of his reasonableness. There seemed any ill will that may have lingered between them for the trespass and the attack had been whisked away on the cool evening breeze. “I am grateful for the offer,” the cremello began, his words genuine. “But for reasons that are painful for me to even think of, I would prefer somewhere quieter, more secluded to rest and recover.”
The words were soft, and Kahraman could only hope that the stallion didn’t take offense. “When I am ready… When I have regained my strength, I would be willing to return to you,” he continued. With a tilt of his narrow muzzle, Kahraman gestured vaguely. “As you may have gathered, I have only just arrived to these islands, never having set foot here before. What can you tell me of them?” Knowledge was its own kind of power, and while waiting for his physical strength to return, Kahraman intended to learn as much as he could of this place, should he ever find himself in danger from one of its inhabitants, or an assassin sent by his father. How easily he fell back into his old ways. The training his father had put him through was like a way of life to Kahraman.
Once he had been a Prince, serving his father and King. He was an outcast and exile now, with no claim upon any land. But here was one who knew how to defend what was his, and who had the wisdom and humility to swallow his pride when it was called for, and apologise, even if the fault was not entirely his own. Kahraman knew without knowing that this gold and ivory male beside him was a born leader. Fierce, shrewd and diplomatic. One Kahraman considered worthy of following. “I am no use to you as a fighter,” the cremello Teke admitted, blunt in his honesty and unashamed to speak what they both knew was the truth. “But I can serve in other ways,” he said slyly, his voice dropping in pitch and volume. His blue eyes were feverishly bright now.
“I am a stranger to this land and to its people. Before my father named me heir, he had his most cunning of stallions teach me all they knew.”Kahraman turned away briefly, and surveyed the land. “And then, he taught me all he knew of discretion and the art of subtlety.” Before Kahraman could contain it, a heavy sigh escaped him. It hurt to speak of his father with such zeal, when the death sentence that had been issued against him still seemed to ring in his ears. “I no longer serve my father, nor hold any loyalty to him,” Kahraman said, turning back to meet the palomino’s gaze. And perhaps it was the way his heart ached for all that he had lost that drove him to reach blindly for anything he could gain to fill the ragged emptiness inside him.
Or maybe it was because, despite how things had gone between them the first time they’d met, he saw something of himself in the Bachelor, saw something that spoke to his soul. “All I want from you is a task by which I can prove myself to you,” he said, leaning closer conspiratorially. “Tell me nothing about yourself, only where you’d like me to go, and what you want me to do there.” Was it wrong that he felt a thrill run through him, recalling the teachings from his younger years about infiltration and integration. He’d only run a few brief mission for his father into enemy territory before he’d been called to higher things, but he’d been such a headstrong, dedicated servant, and given all that he had lost, he just wanted to belong somewhere, and feel needed.
Kahraman |