the original draft of what I thought an evil horse pov might look like before i went in a different direction
the tone is less black beauty in this one and more princess donut from dungeon crawler carl and instead of the origin story this one starts right before ashford
don't really have any plans for this one, other than sometimes when the horses are bad at work i write whatever they did into this to make myself feel better lol
The stables are busy this morning. Servants bustling about, loading grain and oats onto wagons, attaching harnesses to cart horses, putting saddles on palfreys. They are all going somewhere, though I don't know where. Somewhere unimportant surely, if they are not taking me. I have not yet had breakfast; the servants, being occupied with lesser tasks, are slow this morning, and as such, I may starve, and perish inside this very stall. I kick the wall to make my displeasure known. No one acknowledges me, so I squeal, and kick the wall again.
One servant, a young boy who the men call Gawen, says “Damn you Lady, be quiet,” as he passes by my stall, his arms full of something that is not my breakfast. I respond by furiously pawing at the door to my stall, making sure to make as much noise as possible. I fear if I do not get their attention soon, the hunger may take me. If I die, Your Grace would be very sad without me I am sure, and these foolish servants would surely be punished for allowing it to happen. I am merciful in trying to prevent such things.
“Emmon, will you feed the bitch before she tears the damn barn down,” Gawen yells. I prick my ears at the sound of my other name. They have noticed me at last. Emmon, an idiot servant who I had to kick three moons ago for brushing me wrong, comes to my stall carrying my breakfast. He tries to shoo me away from the door, but that would make my breakfast farther away from me. He is an idiot. I bare my teeth at him, and do not back away. Emmon sees the error of his ways, and throws my bucket of oats over the door. “By the seven you are awful,” he says. I pin my ears at him, the fool should be grateful, I have saved him from being punished.
Usually after breakfast, the servants would take me to the paddock, where I roll in the dirt, so that they will have the opportunity to practice brushing me properly, but today whatever foolish journey they have planned disrupts my routine. I am just preparing to kick the wall some more, to remind them that it is time for me to go outside, when Your Grace arrives. The servants all go to their knees to greet him; he is more important than all of them because he is my most esteemed servant. I, graciously, even allow him to ride me. I do not particularly care for being ridden, but I do enjoy running, and kicking, and biting, and Your Grace lets me do all of that, so long as it's when I'm told, so I allow him to sit on my back, and direct me towards appropriate targets.
“Rise, I am only here to visit Lady before we leave, you needn't concern yourselves with me,” Your Grace says. He is too kind to the other servants, but I am pleased that he visits regardless. Sometimes he brings me an apple. Once, I even got something yellow that was sweet and sugary but also tart. Your Grace ate the other half, so I think it must have been man food, but it was most delicious.
I lean over my stall door, and nicker to greet him. He smiles at me, graced by my presence as usual, and presents me with a carrot. I take it, and chew it a few times, before deciding that I do not like carrots. I spit it out, and flip my lip up to let him know that it was disgusting.
“Lady,” Your Grace says, “You liked carrots yesterday.” That is a lie. I would never consume something so foul. I strike at the door of my stall. Your Grace is smart though, for a man, and he produces an apple for me instead, which I eat happily. I allow Your Grace to stroke my neck, but then a servant calls him away, and says they must leave for some place called Ashford Meadow at once. “Be good for the grooms,” Your Grace says, and leaves. Through the barn door I see him getting onto some nag. Hopefully Ashford Meadow is not a very fine place, because nobody will be impressed by that.
It is lonely without Your Grace. When he is not travelling, he visits me every day, and we practice at running and biting and kicking. Men do not kick and bite as well as I do, so they must use swords and other weapons to make up for their natural deficiencies, and Your Grace practices with those as well. Sometimes, I tire of playing at war, and I buck and spin, to let him know it is time for a real battle. I have not gotten one of those in a long time, which is deeply upsetting, and makes it so that I have to bite the grooms more to release my pent up energy.
Emmon and Gawen are still here to tend to me, but they are poor company, and I would not dream of allowing them to ride me, so I must make do with exercising myself in my paddock until Your Grace returns. I run until I am dripping in sweat, and then when the servants try to catch me, I run some more. It is great fun, sometimes I can rouse the other horses to run with me, and kick up so much dust that the servants can hardly see us.
The servants had packed heavy when they left for Ashford Meadow with the lesser horses, so I suspect they will be gone for a long time. I hope Your Grace is still practicing with his sword, I do not want him to embarrass me the next time there is a battle. I keep myself in fine shape by practicing striking at the fences, and my stall, and the grooms. One day, I stood on my hind legs and caught Emmon on the shoulder with my front hoof. I heard him tell Gawen that he would like to beat me bloody, but I know he will not, because if he were close enough to beat me, I could bite him.
Finally, one afternoon, the other servants and horses return. The men are strangely quiet, and they have brought many new horses with them, which I do not like. I am in my paddock when they arrive, and I trot over to the fence to see them. These new horses are ridden by men I don't recognize. I whiny loudly, hoping that somewhere among these strangers is Your Grace, but I do not see him anywhere. It is rude of him to not come see me immediately, so I whiny again, and start to run the length of the fence, hoping to find him somewhere deeper in the column, though I know he usually rides in front. Everyone ignores me, too busy with the new arrivals, so I stay in my paddock until the very last horse arrives. Finally, at the very back of the line, where they keep the most loathsome creatures, mules and donkeys, I see the horse Your Grace left on. But it is not being ridden. It is being led by a servant.
In the morning, I wait patiently for Your Grace to arrive. I must not have seen him yesterday, in all the excitement. I am so eager to see him I don't even kick the wall. But he doesn't come. I have breakfast, and I go to the paddock, and it is the usual time for him to visit, but he is nowhere to be found. What if he's found another horse and won't visit me any more? Who will feed me apples? I am so distraught by the thought, that I don't even look at my dinner when it arrives. This worries the servants, and I hear them talking about me.
“It's eerie is all I'm saying, the horse never misses a meal, not once, and now all of a sudden? It's like she knows,” Gawen says.
“Don't be a fool, it's a damn horse,” Emmon replies. I don't care for his tone, so I squeal loudly.
“See!” Gawen says, “She knows.” Both of the servants look at me suspiciously, I don't know what they think I have done this time, but whatever it is, I'm sure they deserved it.
