rade

Years ago, Rade might’ve felt a smug satisfaction at unburying the pain and hatred of the young mare’s past. Months ago, he would’ve been relieved to see her hatred— a thing that was somehow both rational and irrational at the same time— suddenly directed at someone else; someone who wasn’t him. But now, in this moment, the roan was surprised to feel nothing at all. Even when the initial shock passed and the accusations were quick to surface (So you knew? Of course you did.), the Boss still felt nothing but tired. He’d thought himself free of hope when the Vulcans came to him, but was finding now that it wasn’t entirely true. And with this conversation— with this conversation stretching on forever and going absolutely nowhere at all, even that dim ember of hope was fading.

It doesn’t matter, the white-laced dun concluded, as if responding to the stallion’s own thoughts. It was one of the few things the girl had spoken that he could readily agree with; one of the few things that did matter out of all of this mess. Because while Rade was certain that she was only referring to what he either knew or didn't know of her enemies, he felt that those three words also encompassed her opinion on everything he’d said. None of it mattered to her. She didn’t care about the peace he sought— as if her challenge hadn’t made that obvious enough. She didn’t care that both sides had suffered for their perpetual enmity. And she didn’t care that the palomino had openly admitted to the Lagoon’s wrongs and expressed a desire to change them.

It doesn’t matter.

Beneath the resonating echo of those three words, Rade scarcely heard the way the young Vulcan leapt eagerly at the opportunity to claim the Lagoon’s sole prisoner. But that didn’t matter, either. One way or another, he could not have hoped to hold the mare for much longer. Nymeria would return for her, and even if she did not prevail the next time, or the next... the bachelors would inevitably grow weary of her persistence. And without their support he was only an old cripple, nowhere near strong enough to stand against the silver-haired witch. Or Cullen. Or his own men, if they were of a mind to rebel and free themselves to pursue the Lagoon’s old course again. But they hadn’t, and why was it that that didn’t seem to matter, either? What was it that blinded and fettered the Peak’s women so much that they couldn’t see the truth that stood before them, grey-muzzled and rail-thin and weak?

If the bachelors wanted to fight the changes Rade had brought to their world, it would be as simple as a single, decisive blow.

The older Vulcan had been speaking during the course of his silent reflection, and the roan’s thoughts were a parallel to that speech. But when it came to expressing those thoughts aloud, the golden male struggled. It wasn’t until Oswin’s question that he finally found the words within himself, a hint of wry humor in his voice when he pointed out the obvious. "It’s well past the stage of thinking, I would say. Whatever doubts you may have— doubts I shared when I stepped forward— that is exactly what’s happening. Change has already come to the Lagoon. Not soon enough to save your young friend and those who came before her, and perhaps not quick or extreme enough to suit your expectations, but it’s still here." His gaze was focused on the tawny mare— forgetting, for a moment, that her companion existed. That a world existed beyond them, and the truths he spoke. "Shenzi wouldn’t be the first prisoner I freed, nor will she be the last. And my brothers, they know this. They’ve seen the patterns of my behavior, and they’re not fools. But you are right about one thing... this particular incident might pose an issue. Not because I surrendered a prisoner, but because of who I surrendered her to."

Here he paused only long enough to catch his breath before continuing. His words fervent, impassioned, possessed by the indignation that had been building within him over the course of this conversation. Because this was all simple— or at least, it could be. But they— the Vulcans— were determined that it should be difficult. As if his struggles, as if the Lagoon’s struggles, were a penance of sorts. A price that every one of them would have to pay and pay and pay, while their feminine counterparts answered for nothing and acted as eternal victims. "But what your young friend said is true: it doesn’t matter. I’ve given you the answers to your questions… and in listening, I’ve learned my own without asking." Rade could not prevent the curl of his lip, but the despair he felt softened the gesture.

Turning away from them, the scarred stallion took a first half-stumbling step back towards the forest— and then paused, speaking to the shadows ahead but addressing the two woman who lingered behind. "Know that I’ll continue as I have with or without the Peak’s approval; I have no need of your validation. But support, belief— forgiveness— those things might have made all the difference. To me, to my brothers." Rade paused, overwhelmed for a moment by his own memories. By the thought of the things he’d done in his past, and the love that enabled him to let go and become who he was now.

"Perhaps you think those things wouldn’t make a difference. But they do. Because for every monster that’s ever been made, something helped to create them. And if we all assume our blamelessness and do nothing— then I suppose we better learn to be content with the way things are."

His final piece spoken, Rade began to limp forward again. Leaving the decision of whether they left or followed up to the Vulcans— and knowing that their choice would give him the most significant answer of all.

stallion / palomino roan / arab mix / 15.1 hh