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The horse watched.
Despite Ancel saying he didn’t like it.
In the end gold was more important than what he liked, like so many times before.
The man was rough, but not so much as to warrant a call for help, the straw wasn’t aas comfortable as it looked and it was over quick. Small mercies.
The man left, which he wasn’t too sad about, and left him in the relative calm of the stables.
That had cost extra. The spot itself also had cost extra, there had been different ones where he wouldn’t have feared an equine onlooker.
Now he glared at the horse while he plucked yellow straw from his hair.
Even the animal looked rough, seemed like neither he nor the steed got treated with much care, from this angle he could see the raw skin, where the bridle had rubbed the fur clean off.
“Look away.” he snapped at it. Great, now he got self conscious because a horse was here. And he was talking to it.
The animal didn’t do him the favour, instead it trotted closer, sticking its head out of the box. He ignored it, getting up with a huff and a pain he was too used to.
He brushed the dust from his arms, grimacing as he saw some red scratches. Ugly.
“I don’t want them to see me like this.” he explained like it would change anything.
Like the others hadn’t already seen him in worse states. He rubbed his arms, suddenly shivering. It never had been bad, they were a luxury after all. But not such a luxury.
Just like this horse and he glared at it again.
Pretty things so easily broken. He scratched at the red lines. He refused to break. Fire didn’t break either, it only grew with any fuel added. He would ignore the pain and only see the goal.
Fire didn’t shy away from a horse, and slowly he moved closer. Peeking into the manger, empty.
Where the hell was the stable boy? Probably off to earn some coins.
“Poor thing.” he couldn’t help but say, scrambling back as the head moved closer. Why did they have to have such giant heads?!
“Oh.” he still had straw in his hair, and he glanced back to the pile, “Well, I hope you are not a picky eater.” he murmured and made sure to pick some up far away from where he had been. It poked his hands and quickly he let it fall in the manger, stepping back before the animal decided his hair still looked appetising.
But as nothing happened, just those giant teeth grinding the straw, he found himself leaning against the rough wood, watching silently.
“You are ugly!” he clicked his tongue as he noted the dirt and dust on the grey fur. Was that a pattern or just dirt?
Slowly the stables grew darker, the red glow of the sun bathing everything in gold. Lanterns were already lit but their light wasn’t yet needed, the hot air smelled of straw and horse and a strange peacefulness. It didn’t smell as bad as he had feared.
He looked away, outside, to where brighter lights shone from the windows, turning what was his life into a shadows play. If he stepped inside now, he knew the air would be hot and heavy with perfumes, candles and silk everywhere. Silk so soft underneath his fingers.
He didn’t know why, he reached out, his fingers carefully gliding over the fur, leaving his fingertips coated with dust. Soft.
“Hm, I suppose you need water too.” he heard himself say.
If he went back now… the others would laugh about him, clap him on the back and joke. Fake smiles, fake words.
“You better be fucking grateful!” he proclaimed like he had done some great feat. Given his work carrying a bucket full of water was the hardest manual labour he had ever done in recent times.
With a hiss he looked at his fingers, red and burning from the unusual weight. But no splinters.
“Look at what you did to me!” he held out his hand to the horse, almost flinching back when it pressed his snout against his palm. Even softer than silk…
He shook his head.
“If you bite me-” it just had the perfect opportunity and didn’t take it.
“If you kick me!” he warned. He knew what damage a well placed kick could do, and he refused to splatter his brains in a stable of all possible places.
“Just stay back.”
Slowly he opened the gate, placing the bucket inside.
At least no one had seen him, he would have died of shame on the spot.
The horse neither kicked nor bit, it stretched its long neck towards the water, flicking its ears like it had reason to be nervous! He should be nervous alone with such a beast! Why wasn’t he?
“You look ugly.” he said again, just to say something, to fill the silence. He should leave, he had already done more than enough for a strangers horse. But again the thought of returning to the brothel, where the air was stinky with perfumes he didn’t like and he would wear a smile as false as his pride, was still unpleasant.
So he stayed.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead riding you.” The horse didn’t seem to care. Not that he could even ride it, looking at the withers height. How would he even get up?
He knew there were small horses too, ponies that looked ridiculous enough, and much bigger horses, the ones that made the ground shake with their heavy hooves.
No, he wanted a pretty horse. He would braid the mane and the tail and put ribbons in it and flowers on the bridle.
Something wet touched his shoulder and he screamed.
“Fuck, you stupid thing!” he chastised the horse, his hand pressed against his chest to calm down his hammering heart. With the other he pushed the big head away.
How good he was alone.
His hand lingered on it, feeling the warmth and softness, and the strength too. A shame it was so dirty.
“Are you jealous because I have better hair than you?” he asked and tilted his head away as the snout came towards his hair once more, “Many like it.”
It didn’t feel good to say it out loud and he clenched his hands into fists, digging his short nails in his flesh.
Trying to breathe but something in his throat hurt and he blinked away tears, bit his lip. Not hard enough to taste blood, but close.
Truly, how good he was here alone! Not back in his room where everything was tainted by touches and memories.
Pitiful.
The others would pretend to hear nothing, just like he pretended to be deaf when he heard someone cry. That was how life was, get over it. The only compassion he got was one bought with money.
Warmth and the smell he had just complained about engulfed him, that silent strength leaning against him, wanting nothing in return, and he hugged the stupid animal, the coarse hair of the main scratching against his arms.
Crying was ugly.
It made his eyes red and smudged his paints, it made his voice sound pathetic and make him seem weak. But right now no one could see him.
And the only thing that could, would tell no one.
“You will keep quiet!” he still hissed, just to be safe, in the horses ear.
Said ear twitched and hit him in the eye. It started to water again but at least this time from pain and with a groan he stepped back.
“Fine, I will make you pretty and you keep quiet!”
It also left him with enough time to collect himself.
The fur was easy, he looked at every comb until he found one that the stable boy used. He liked to pay attention, often it paid off.
His arms ached, who would have thought that there would be this much fur and this stubborn dirt!
But as he looked at the grey now, illuminated by the soft glow of the lamps, it shone like silver.
“There, better, isn’t it?” he had to smile.
Next was the mane, and as he was a bit too intimated to attempt the tail, he looked warily at the hooves. Okay, how did he think this would go? This horse would kill him simply by falling on him and he was supposed to somehow clean these death traps called hooves?! What was he thinking! He should go back to his room, where he would have zero privacy and would need to listen to his colleagues, and laugh and joke while all he wanted was to sleep and forget…
He grabbed the hoof scraper tighter, even that thing looked like a torture device. Moving anxiously, but the animal stayed still. And to his surprise it lifted its leg easily, offering the underside much easier than he had anticipated.
“Thank you.”
Almost he regretted these words as he saw what was underneath the hoof.
“Ew!” he almost gagged. Disgusting! Carefully he jammed the pointed end in the soft dirt, stopping when he hit hard bone. Even more carefully he begun to remove it, aiming it at the ground and not himself.
Okay, this was easier than he had anticipated!
When he had finished he felt almost proud.
Like he did something that mattered. The horse snickered and nudged him and he found it much easier to pet it.
“Do you feel pretty now?” he asked softly.