Chapter Text
Food starts raining down. Grass. Clover. Blueberries. A few apples even.
Well, they agreed never to talk about the effect a head of wild cabbage has on a centaur.
Or that stale piece of bread Edward had pulled out of his hidden forest stash. Landing that over Stede’s head almost regressed the stag back into oblivion.
Anyway.
Turnip! Turnip. That was good, yes.
But most importantly – a soothing river of words. Stede can’t believe that he’s received all these gifts falling from heavens, but nothing beats the fact that they are accompanied by Edward’s satisfied face peeking from over the edge.
But not all is bright and sunny. It’s obvious to both of them that Stede’s recovery is slow, almost non-existent. He eats whatever food has fallen over the floor and allows the human to talk him back to sleep.
When the centaur nods off Edward worries himself into a wreck.
The escape options need to be discussed between them, it’s paramount. Edward doesn’t know what is safe and what is not for the species. What if he pulls against a wrong thing and gives the stag a stroke, huh?
But it’s as if eating exhausts the little energy Stede has and it knocks him unconscious after maybe a few absentminded nods or shrugs at Edward’s questions.
The one piece of luck they have is that the slave drivers must have forgotten about this particular trap as otherwise they would surely have come to give their goods a check by now. Edward has already searched the surroundings for whatever means they use to pull their victims out but he finds nothing man-made in the vicinity. The tool must be either too valuable to be left around, or –
The centaur slave drivers aren’t human.
It was also fortunate that Edward’s good stash was near by, supplying him with an axe, loads of rope, and admittedly, that godforsaken loaf of bread which he had to thoroughly apologize for.
Edward sets to work. It was already noon when he accomplished the following – escaping the pit, feeding the centaur and hatching a plan. Since then he hasn’t allowed himself more than a few minutes of rest. All that measuring, mapping and then – chopping. Tons of chopping. The work won’t do itself.
Who knew that doing something so repetitive results in some serious suffering very quickly – his back is aching, his neck is stiff and his palms are riddled with blisters. And Edward is not a dainty lady, he’s a hard-core pirate, for Pete’s sake.
But good things are also happening, making the aches and burns bearable. Ideas are swarming, solutions are forming, his mind is rushing forward to give the end result a check from all sides.
So Edward takes a breather on his feet, shakes his hands a bit, puts on a stiff upper lip and gets back to tree cutting.
Yes, it stings like hell to have your sore hands tighten rope over logs, it’s very hard to keep control over your fingers in orders to fasten the right knots. Still, the night time is what comes particularly hard.
He doesn’t dare light a fire. He doesn’t dare lie too near the edge of the trap. He doesn’t dare join the centaur inside the pit, as nobody promises that Stede would be able to sustain his weight for a climb up again.
But he wishes all those things very, very, horribly much. He actually wishes he could spend the night in there by Stede’s side, to keep him company. Maybe even soothe himself while he’s at it.
As nights come particularly hard.
He needs to talk his anxiety out at least.
In the pitch black darkness, he crawls to the mouth of the abyss and feels for its edge.
“Hey, Stede,” he whispers into the hole filled with blackness that completely hides his centaur companion from his eyes. “Stede,” he hisses again.
“Not here,” the drowsy voice climbs up. “Come back later...”
Edward smiles. “You ain’t fooling me,” he quips and lowers himself on his side with care.
He wonders what topic to breach, just to hear the stag’s voice again. He needs something that representatives of the two peoples might have in common, preferably something cheery. He tries to remember the last time he had fun and that it didn’t involve a tavern fight.
Finally, he sends a question to the imperceptible company. “Stede, do you centaurs, you know... get married?”
He listens and listens to the darkness until a curious little “Yes” comes out of it.
“Nice,” he whispers, encouraged. “Do you make celebrations?” he asks further. “With food and music? People dancing, drinking, embarrassing themselves?”
Exactly two deep breaths is the time needed for Stede to send a “Yeah” out of the hole, but it sounds a bit animated, so the young pirate is grateful to have something to build upon.
“What’s your favourite wedding song?” he tries.
Well, he must have overestimated Stede’s powers right now as more than three long sighs pass in silence. The centaur eventually gives up and returns the question.
“And you?”
“Ah,” Edward thinks, “I like that one... What’s it called? “Forget-me-nots in your hair.” You know that one?”
He hears Stede inhaling slowly through his nose to reply, “No...”
“Ah, right.” Stede rolls onto his back. “You must have different songs, different culture and all. Also, you’d probably eat the forget-me-nots. Anyway, it’s kinda weird as that’s actually a pretty sad song.
It’s about loss.
I don’t know why some wedding songs are sad, now when I think about it. Do the newlyweds really want to make their guests cry?
Anyway, the song is about this guy who went to battle and got killed, never returning to the girl he was supposed to marry. So he sings to her, saying that she can mourn him for a short while, but that she shouldn’t waste away. That she should find new love.”
Edward chews on his lower lip, emotions swarming. He hasn’t really given the topic much analysis before, but a pitch black night spent guarding a helpless fellow sufferer is as good time as any.
“You know, that’s,” he decides, “that’s kinda nice. That you love someone so much that you want them happy even if you cannot be with them.”
The young human lets out a deep sigh into the darkness of the night-time forest. He searches for the sky and finds a few light-black patches of it dotted with stars.
The earth keeps moving, the cosmos keeps whirring, looking down at a human lying by a hole in the ground, and a centaur trapped inside its heart.
Here’s a crazy thought – maybe, just maaaybe, one day Edward will be deserving of the heavens above to such an extent that he’ll get to experience such a love. Maybe the cosmos would agree to cross his path with that of another lonely soul who’d match him in such an aspiration.
“Sing,” comes a shy little plea from the depths.
Edward snorts, a bit amused by the endearing request. “You really want me to finish you off, don’t you?” he teases, but purely decoratively. Before the centaur changes his mind, he hurries to add, “Suit yourself. But you take full responsibility for any damage I make to your eardrums.”
Stede wishes to reply with humour too, but that demands the brain power that is out of his disposal right now. So he just settles with a, “Sure.”
This human will never know just how much consolation he brings to Stede. And to think that providence has brought him, or rather, slammed him over the Prince at the lowest point of his life, it’s... It’s heart-breaking.
Stede is gravely ill. The entire day of eating has failed to make him feel any better. As a matter of fact, it feels as if the food is just sitting inside his stomachs, and that his body is not doing a good job processing it. It has brought some pleasure, some hope, but absolutely no recovery. There’s also this heaviness inside his lower abdomen, feeling as if something bloated has got pinched between his ribs, making him squirm with discomfort.
Yes, this is the lowest of the low points in Stede’s life. But it’s so ironic too, because Edward is making Stede feel as if he's living his best day yet.
The human’s voice is raining from over the edge, deep, seriously lacking some singing skills, but it is coloured with emotions, painting images of a love story inside Stede’s mind. He’s dispersing the darkness above the centaur’s head with colours of yearning, of devotion, of love so profound that it defies death.
You see, Stede thinks he knows why not all wedding songs are joyful, he was just unable to voice his opinion. Sad songs make the ones who have not been lucky enough to find love encouraged to open up, to search for the one meant for them. They make those who already have a loved one appreciate them even more.
They make the newlyweds grateful that they are tying their fates together.
The Prince allows tears to roll down his cheeks in silence, wishing he could sing those painfully beautiful verses too. Wishing he could send his voice to caress with the human’s. Wishing to gift his soul to someone, as that’s the only thing he owns right now.
And Stede can’t think of another person more deserving to be offered this only possession of his but –
Edward.
***
“Fire!!!”
“Wha-what...?” Stede jerks awake, bumping his side against the wall.
“Finally,” Ed groans with exasperation. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages. Make sure you push yourself against that wall as much as possible.”
A few blurry details reach the centaur’s brain. The human has changed his coat or something. The loose off-white shirt is gone, leaving him looking both slimmer and covered with some other light colour.
Also there’s an object peeking over the edge of the hole. Some broad, straight structure is lying by the pit, with its end sticking over the rim. Stede backs away as instructed and the human disappears from view.
The object then starts elongating, casting a shadow, stealing light from above.
“Keep clear!” Edward croaks, sounding as if he’s being strangled and sure enough, the platform starts descending.
Stede gasps as the thing makes a loop above his head and slams against the wall opposite to him.
But it doesn’t hit the ground! It’s hanging on a system of interlaced ropes. The thing is some twenty feet long raft-looking construction made of logs, or maybe even entire tree trunks of similar circumference, tied together closely and rather meticulously.
Well, there is a number of loose rope ends hanging off it, but they sport loops, so that cannot be haphazard.
A strained voice comes from above and the thing gets lowered with something akin to control until the side facing downwards reaches the floor.
Then it stops.
Stede finally breathes, with his eyes pointed at the thing just standing there against the wall. To his dizzy mind it looks like a tall door without a handle, leading to another dimension.
Leading to freedom.
Sure enough, the architect shows up. Edward walks down the wall!
Holding onto a rope tied around his waist, the human stands away from the soil, keeping himself in an upright position with the use of his long legs. Those feet sure are dexterous, the soles of the boots grip well, allowing the man to gradually scale down until they touch the ground.
Edward turns around with a smile so triumphant that Stede is having hard time restraining himself from taking him into his arms.
“I’m back, steed named Stede,” he glees. “Take this.”
A water skin gets shoved into the centaur’s hands.
“And hold this, please.”
Accompanied with the man’s shirt!
Oooh, so that’s what Stede is looking at right now! The man is finally naked waist up, as nature demands!
Admittedly, he’s more naked than any centaur would be. The skin of his shoulders, arms and back is tanned and glistening, looking as smooth as a new-born’s underbelly. But the sternum sports a little carpet of black curly hairs, leading one’s eyes down to a thin trail all the way to the bellybutton.
Fascinating!
“We’re gonna need that shirt later,” Edward comments casually. “Keep it clean-ish for me, please.”
But all Stede is able to do is stare at another novelty. The young pirate’s cheeks have changed colour since yesterday. They’re turning grey with tiny roots of black hair growing out of them! That must be what humans call a beard. It’s more than little odd!
So Stede stands aside a watches this marvel of ingenuity making his magic.
Well, that was the idea.
Firstly, Stede gets pushed against the wall again.
In no time, Edward climbs out of the trap the same way he got in. Strange noises start coming from the world outside the pit and the heavy platform gets repositioned so that it makes a one sided tent over the centaur.
That’s when some heavy things start being thrown into the pit. Stede peeks from behind his safe screen from time to time to witness a heap of stones forming over the floor. He wants to ask what those are for, but soon his malady gets the best of him.
Hidden behind the wooden structure, Stede dares to stick his nose into Edward’s shirt for a little sniff nobody would know about.
The scent he finds there is so exuberant. It’s a pity Stede can’t tell which particles belong to regular human skin tones and which are pure Edward, so he decides the entire thing bears the unique mark of his saviour. The young centaur sighs into his new hideout and tries to escape the gnawing pain by filling his nostrils with the magical scent again.
The moment the platform gets removed from above him doesn’t wake him up. He doesn’t react much when he gets fed some plants and water, but to swallow them down without tasting.
His senses come to life at one point when sharp pain starts disturbing him from drowsiness. Stede finds that he’s on the floor, which was not the position he remembers falling asleep in. But that’s not all.
The bottom of the trap has gotten smaller – the stones got stacked one on top of the other on a pile against the wall, looking like a half a pyramid. They now serve as a rocky base for the platform that is leaning over them. The purpose of the construction still evades the Prince, but he’s not too concerned about it right now.
As those are not the only novelties inside the pit.
Edward’s in here again.
He is napping, curled against Stede, with his side resting against the centaur’s lower shoulder, using Stede’s back as a pillow. From his heights Stede can see the stretch of the hairless back, and the long bicolour hair spilling over his own tawny fur.
Stede is in pain now. It’s still not horrible, but it’s a definite sign that things have gone very south indeed. The food isn’t helping because the damage to his organs has already been done. They might just be postponing the inevitable, but the situation is clear to the centaur.
The end of his days is near.
And yet! He can’t but enjoy the undeniable beauty before him. Well, all over him – the muscular back, the glossy lines of the curled in shoulders. The long lashes covering the cheek, roofed by the expressive eyebrows. The shadows of the young beard framing the face.
And the very fact that the human has opted for spending the break inside the pit, sleeping against Stede, it’s... Invaluable. It would surely make his heart burst out of tenderness.
The centaur removes the piece of clothing he’s kept around his neck and gives it a little check, trying to figure out which side is broader. Finally, he swings it over Edward’s shoulder and makes sure he’s tucked the edges wherever he could reach.
One of his fingers dares to trace the hairline over the human’s forehead and caress the long strands towards the back of the ear. It’s so glossy!
With his last atoms of energy well spent, Stede allows his hand to fall. He allows his eyes to close too, his chin to find his chest again.
And in the shade of the pit, broken by an odd sunray and hope, Edward smiles.
***
“I think you’re all set,” Edward says, still eyeing the ropes around Stede’s body, giving them a tug here and there.
He should have thought of a few additional straps that would run along Stede’s belly and up his rump to get tied against the rope fastened under the tail, but that ship has sailed, so he gives Stede’s front another check.
That part has been elaborately fastened, so much so that it now resembles a basket made of rope the prisoner has stuck his front legs through. Stede had insisted that the ‘horsy’ chest was the toughest part of a centaur's body, the one holding the weight of the upper torso. It feels rather satisfying that Ed’s shirt has been wrapped around those pieces of rope, so that tugging wouldn’t burn the fur.
It feels as if a part of Edward is keeping that piece of Stede safe and comfortable.
He folds a bit of the sleeve where it doesn’t really need more folding, just to then have an excuse to give the golden muscles a little tap of encouragement.
“I’m ready,” Stede utters, holding onto his bag.
“That bag looks empty,” Edward notices, inspecting the folds of the soft leather. “Maybe I can use it to give your bottom more cushioning.”
Yes, he indeed feels guilty about not giving that part more thought when he was in the planning phase, but he’s also not beyond using that as another excuse to touch the silky fur.
“Not empty,” Stede comments quietly. “I’d rather... not.”
“You sure?” the human squints at the thing. “You don’t happen to have more rope in it, do you?”
A drop of sweat runs down the centaur’s nose and falls onto the platform before him.
“No,” he replies gently. Edward decidedly doesn’t appreciate the way his voice has turned weak in the course of the day. “Just... myself.”
He’s also unable to convey comprehensive thoughts, and that’s a sign for Edward right there. He must hurry if he wants the stag out of the hole and near a physician of any species.
With moves he’s practiced into perfection while testing the set-up, Edward ascends the platform with his trusty piece of rope in hand. It’s much easier this time round. It’s very sturdy, as stabile as it gets and slanted to the limits of the modest floor.
Finally out, and with his muscles buzzing with adrenaline, Edward grabs the rope sticking out of the other end of the platform. It’s actually an elaborate braid of intertwined threads.
Edward hasn’t had good teachers in life, but he does remember exactly two good lessons, both of which he has applied for this very occasion. The first one was how to build a raft in case you get stranded on a desert island (with a presumption that you also have an axe and miles of rope on your person), and the second one was how to make a vast array of knots to fit any situation known to man.
With the rope in his hands, Edward runs around the tree he’s preselected. It’s the thickest one growing in the close vicinity of the trap. It’s been additionally de-barked at the height of Edward’s knees as it served to control the platform’s descent.
The pirate makes sure the loop lies over that particular ring snuggly and then trails the rope back towards the pit. With speed, he wraps the remaining length of the braid around his own waist, leaving the end loops free. Now the loops make perfect pockets for another secret weapon waiting by Edward’s feet - the heaviest rocks he has been able to find.
He has to sit down in order to slot them into their places all around his middle. But he’s happy with the added weight. It makes it hard to both get up and keep his knees straight, so it must make some bleeding difference.
Thus equipped, Edward peeks into the hole.
“Alright, I’m ready,” he shouts to Stede.
The centaur looks as if the human has shaken him up from reverie again. He’s in the position Edward has left him in, standing with his front legs kneeling over the platform, while his back hooves are dug into the bedding of the little remaining piece of the floor.
But his shoulders are slumped and his eyes are so sad that Edward starts wondering if expecting anything is realistic right now, but he swallows that lump down where it belongs.
“Use the handles of the platform to pick yourself up,” he instructs, “and the indents over the trunks to place your hooves in. Are you ready?”
Stede sure gains some welcome height as he lifts himself up onto his front feet. His hooves get lodged inside the holes in the wood which Edward has made especially for them. He leans forward and holds onto the closest rope loops dangling off the platform.
“Ready,” he confirms looking a tad more, well, ready.
That’s all Edward’s got to work with, so that’s what he’ll do. He positions himself between another ingenious additions of his. The two tall logs he hammered into the ground right by the hole. He made sure the space between them is broad enough to allow a centaur butt through.
Holding onto the rope, Edward lowers his feet over the platform.
“Start climbing up,” he shouts.
The time for Stede to give his best is now. With the platform lying securely over its bed of rocks and feeling truly solid under him, he starts pushing his weight slowly up.
He puffs and makes sure that his feet find the places meant for them inside the logs. That’s particularly difficult to do with his hind legs. He’s also pulling himself up the wooden path by grabbing onto the strategically positioned rings of rope.
He is very surprised about the fact, but the human is actually contributing with his meagre weight, aided with what looks like a skirt made of stone. Edward is using the same platform to scale down, acting as a counterweight for the larger centaur, tugging onto the rope around Stede’s lower chest. It’s obvious that the human is putting all his might into it, pushing himself away from the slope until he’s practically horizontal.
But if Stede slips down his makeshift staircase, he’ll surely launch the human out of the hole, rocks and all. The thought makes the centaur concentrate every single atom of energy on not allowing that to happen.
Maybe that’s what Edward had in mind all along, he thinks. Maybe he’s entrusting Stede with his own life, practically throwing the responsibility into his hands, to motivate him to give two hundred percent of himself in this bid for freedom.
Little does Stede know that he’s gravely overestimated Edward’s planning skills. The human simply leaped into this venture with everything he’s got, focused more on the centaur’s safety, completely disregarding his own, the idiot.
Luckily nobody is there to disclose the fact to the Prince, as his hoof would surely miss the right landing if he got dismayed.
“Half-way there, Stede, come on,” Edward finds the power to squeeze out some encouragement at the moment when they are passing one another. “Imagine some handsome stallions waiting for you upstairs.”
“Bastard.”
So, the incredibly dangerous plan of the two oblivious young creatures is progressing and Stede finds himself in the surreal situation of being close to the edge! His legs are shaking, the platform is creaking below him, but he is doing this.
There’s the pair of logs Edward said he’d wedged by the edge, acting as a gate the stag is to squeeze himself through.
As the final step out is the hardest.
Stede lets go of the remaining loop and hooks his arms around the poles to give himself one last pull. There platform doesn’t extend far out, so he lands his knees on the ground and crawls out that way.
“Go, Stede!” Edward cries from below. “A bit more, Stede, that’s it!!!”
The forest must have been strangely oversaturated with oxygen as the entire scenery spins before Stede’s eyes, but he’s done it. He can feel the ground beneath his hind legs too!
The moment he finds himself clear away from the edge, the centaur flops onto his side – the position he wasn’t able to get into whilst trapped. He extends his legs as much as he can and lays his head over the grass.
The relief is so meagre it’s almost imperceptible. Squeezing one’s eyes shut makes the view stop circling, but the stomach pain gets more acute.
On the other hand, Edward climbs out of the hole with triumph. He’s dislodged the stones out of their sockets and left them on the bottom of the pit forever, but he’s taken the staff all the way up. It’s a surprisingly heavy thing, it must have been more of a hindrance than support to the centaur.
But Edward’s made it! He conquered, tamed and broke the stupid beast of the trap with nothing but his sheer will, muscles and brains.
He sure could use that kiss right now. Hell, he has to reign his adrenaline rush just to keep himself from pouncing over Stede and gifting him with some smooches the centaur has never asked for.
He casts an excited look at his prize, laying sprawled over the ground, with his two sets of ribs climbing up and down.
Well, flipping by the centaur’s side should suffice for now.
“Hey.” The moment he gets in the same eye level with the stag, Ed’s smile extends to its very limits. “We’ve made it, Stede!”
Oooh, his fur is even more glossy in day light! This up close Edward can finally notice some subtle markings over the centaur’s lovely face. Yes, his eyelids look very heavy, but the darker colour on them must be an embellishment rather than the sign of exhaustion, as he’s heard.
“Yes,” Stede sighs. One of his palms starts travelling over the ground and Edward meets it halfway. He holds it in both of his hands and presses it over his own heart before he could think twice about it.
“Just give me a breather,” Edward clears his throat, trying not to give the fact that Stede’s hand is now touching his bare skin too much thought, otherwise the drumming inside his chest would get worse. “Just five minutes and then we can set off.”
“Set off?” Stede pinches his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Ed replies. “There’s like a day worth of walking until we reach the border with the kingdom. Then our chances to find some centaur medical help shall soar.”
“Oh,” Stede comments without a trace of joy the human is overflowing with. “I – I don’t think I can make it that far.”
Edward’s head raises from the ground. “’Course you can,” he insists. “I know you feel poorly, but you centaurs are known for your ability to cover great distances in a day.”
Stede can’t but try a little smile. What a jewel of beauty and persistence this human is. It’s such a pity that they didn’t meet in some happier circumstances.
The human doesn’t know that the little energy which kept the suffering at bay has been spent on climbing out of the pit. But the centaur feels the effect drumming through his entire body, which is something that neither of them could have predicted.
Stede’s breath disturbs the grass before his mouth. “No use of it, Ed,” he says. “I’m – I’m dying.”
Wretched pain, robbing Stede from everything. It’s even made it possible for him to utter the horrid truth and feel nothing about it at all. But, the human is perfectly capable of channelling the sentiment for them both. He springs into a sit.
“You can’t give up on me now, Stede,” he actually threatens the centaur with his finger. “I’ve pulled you out of that hell hole, just like I promised, and we’re going to centaur land, you hear?”
“Can’t make it.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Edward’s voice cracks. Fuck, he almost squeals when he adds, “You’re getting your golden arse off this dirt, you hear?”
But all Stede can do is let his upper back lie flat over the ground. He wants to say something to his distressed friend. He wants to thank him for the incredible feat of kindness, as now Stede will die unconfined. But the torment has built some sort of a blockage inside his throat, forcing silence over him.
The human leaps onto his feet. He makes a few frustrated steps away but returns to the lying stag in an instant.
“Get up, right now, Stede,” he shouts at the helpless centaur. He even prompts his hands over his hips, like Stede’s elderly aunt does when she wants to chide him. “I had to do some bleeding mathematics to get you out of that hole. I fucking hate mathematics, Stede.”
A few raindrops tap over the centaur’s cheeks, but all Stede can do is notice that idly.
“And I’ll be in your debt for life,” he manages to reply. “Quite literally, actually.”
More droplets start descending over the two friends. They start peppering the golden fur, but the centaur’s skin doesn’t even twitch.
“Oh, great,” the human redirects his frustration towards the skies. “The fucking rain is starting again. We have to reach some cover.”
Edward sets to releasing the centaur’s front legs out of the rope basket, completely disregarding the fact that the owner isn’t moving a muscle to help. The shirt has received some dark marks at the places where the rope has been rubbing against it, but Ed doesn’t give a shit right now. He puts the thing on.
Similarly, for the first time in his life Stede feels indifferent to having his prized coat wet. “I don’t mind the rain,” he tries to fight the pesky human off with an argument.
“Well, I fucking do,” the human tosses the ropes aside. He grabs his own bag, waiting for him on one of the branches and starts packing his supplies in.
The position allows him to rub on his eyes without Stede noticing. He makes sure he sounds very angry, and not snivelling, when he throws the following over his shoulder, “If the ground under you turns to mud, you’ll get stuck in it for good.”
He sniffs and throws the bag over his shoulder. Without looking at the sprawled out creature, he reaches for the staff.
The rain sure has made it its task to get as irritating as possible very soon. A swarm of tapping is disturbing the canopy all around them, and making dark polka dots all over the unmoving centaur.
Edward swears and looks around. The tree tops will withdraw their flimsy protection soon. At least that provides him with something to redirect his focus on. So a sudden shine between the trees sure attracts his eye.
“What’s that over there? You see that?”
Stede, of course doesn’t find the will to raise his head, but he still holds to some basic manners as he doesn’t leave his companion short of a reply. “No.”
“I think there's a stony hillside.” Edward squints at the thing in the distance. He’s not a stranger to this part of the human territory, but he hasn’t frequented it enough to be familiar with every nook and cranny. “That thing over there looks like an entrance to a cave.”
Unbeknownst to the human, the piece of information bears a mountain of significance to the centaur. The word makes Stede actually prompt himself up on his elbow, which is nothing short of a miracle.
“A cave?” he repeats with his eyes open wide, looking for the thing.
Amazed, Edward rushes to the centaur, intent on capitalizing on the sudden bout of interest. “Yes, it is. Come on, let’s get to the cave, quick.”
As if he’s been waiting for those exact words, the young stag starts a shaky process of struggling onto his feet. Wonder, elation and reverence simply wash the pain off him as if it was dirt, leaving him weak but functioning.
“Hurry, Edward.” He reaches for the staff and tears it away from the human’s shocked fingers as if he’s been the one stalling. “If that is what I think it is, we need to move.”
Stunned by the sentence more complex than the centaur’s state should allow, the pirate turns on his heel and follows his lead.
***
“Of course it had to be up a fucking hill.”
And of course that they’ve left the woven basket behind. The thing would be of some help right now.
“A bit more,” Stede squawks between two wheezing breaths, fighting the rain-softened soil beneath his hooves with dragon-like determination.
And if Edward’s pathetic attempts to prompt him up are failing to even be noticed, he’s way too much of a gentleman to comment it out loud.
“We’re here,” he does squeeze out.
As the soil at that point turns more rocky, allowing the hooves to catch on, Edward gives up on pushing the stag from behind and allows himself a moment to brush the wet hair off his own face.
Little is to say that he’s dumbfounded by this bizarrest of all bizarre enthusiasm a person on their deathbed is showing towards a crack in stone, but it’s got Stede fighting and so Edward is not questioning a thing.
He rewards himself with eying the centaur’s gleaming bum fighting its way up, with the white tail so wet it doesn't look curly any more. Then he gives their final destination another look.
It does look like a crack. There’s that huge almond-shaped opening, leading into a tunnel of the same shape, narrowing down towards its end, which is currently imperceptible with darkness.
It’s of a... Ahm... a rather suggestive shape.
Edward has seen its real-life counterpart exactly once in his life time, and that was when that prostitute insisted that she should show him her stuff as a thank you for knocking a drunk – and broke – sailor off of her. And the stag – who claims to be of a completely different orientation – is stumbling towards it as if the rocky thing is sporting the most verdant of all carrot gardens.
“Edward,” Stede exclaims the moment his feet make clacks over the rocky floor. “This is it!”
Stede’s head feels light, he struggles to keep himself centred over the slippery rock, but this time that is not the pain’s doing.
The moment his entire length is inside the hollow, completely covered from the downpour, Stede walks blindly towards a spot where the floor looks flat and spacious enough to accept his body. He makes sure his back rests against the wall and that he’s facing out and finally allows his legs to have some rest beneath him.
With one final intake of air, he surrenders.
Right on cue, the place starts doing what it is made for.
Nothing happens on the outside of the young stag’s body, nothing one’s eyes could pick up anyway. But inside, some serious miracles set to work.
As if someone has pulled an invisible lever, Stede’s organism starts functioning. The weight inside his lower bulk simply gets elevated. The bloated organs ease their pressure. His stomachs stop feeling like foreign bodies.
The damage gets sealed, the disturbances get smoothen away, the bile retreats.
His blood flows, his energy soars.
And Stede opens his eyes with new life.
The entire cave is dancing with glittery shine. The walls practically sparkle like that of a salt mine. He smells ozone, clearing his head, calling his life forces forth.
And all the feelings simply float out, unblocked at last! Happiness, excitement, elation at the promise of a new life.
And gratefulness. So much pure gratefulness.
“Mother,” the word simply comes to Stede’s lips. For once he doesn’t question what ever the Great Secret is telling him. This is his mother’s doing, sending the lifesaving cave to him. He knows that, feels that, reads it through reliable channels, and doesn’t doubt it for a second. “Mother, thank you.”
“Great, the hallucinations have started.”
Edward! That absolute pearl of a creature is standing at the entrance, trying to twist the edge of his shirt dry.
With nothing to restrain it – no fear, no pain, no reason – this new thrill of life inside Stede simply soars towards this man. Is this his mother’s doing as well? Was she the one who sent a saviour in a form of a two-legged jewel? Has she made sure that Stede gets a chance to experience both a new life and – love?
“Edward,” Stede calls with a huge smile, feeling unable to sustain all the giddiness inside himself.
As if he’s experienced nothing but a few days of good rest and quality food, the centaur simply gets onto his feet as easily as that.
The human follows the display of health with suspicion. He then sends his own hands a flabbergasted look as he too feels the effect of this magical place. His blisters simply retreat, taking away the relentless burn, leaving nothing but smooth skin behind.
Stede receives another pointed look before the human’s features melt with realisation.
“Aaah,” Ed exclaims allowing his hands to fall. “Fumes, right?”
“Fumes?” Stede echoes through his smile that feels as it will last forever.
“There must be fumes coming out of the ground somewhere,” Edward provides with a knowing nod. “I see you all healthy, shinning and chipper, but in reality you must be curled up somewhere in misery, right?”
Stede’s hooves make happy noises over the rocky floor as he approaches the human. “I am healthy and chipper, Ed,” he singsongs with his hands over his heart. “I am completely healed.”
“Fuck, I’m also hearing things now,” Edward knocks his head back.
It’s very cruel to be playing with someone’s feeling like this, God. Edward may be deserving of many things, but showing him an impossible reality, an image of his deepest desire, that’s just mean.
“I’ve been through worse vivid dreams,” he sighs and extends his hands before himself. “You just keep talking and I’ll find you, Stede.”
But his hands get met by two warmest, softest palms.
“You are not dreaming,” the lovely hazel eyes meet his from above. “Edward, I am not dying anymore. I am saved! For real! And it’s all thanks to you.”
The human squeezes the fingers in his hands and allows his eyes to wander around the body before him.
He sure looks sturdy and real. At least Edward has never been high on substances that can create all these details for his eyes. The broad lower chest, the firm abdomen it leads to, the cute little hair twirls, looking like little tornados over the centaur’s chest.
The round chin, the elegant nose, the dimples in the cheeks when a smile pushes them up. The liveliest, kindest eyes in the universe, simply gleaming with happiness.
Well, an illusion or not, Edward’s not as stupid as to reject credit when it falls into his lap.
“Yeah, I did help a bit, didn’t I?” he shrugs with so much modesty, it’s sickening. “I was good on my word.”
“You absolutely were.” Stede’s face rivals the gleaming walls around them.
“Used all the tools in my box,” Edward shamelessly continues to inflate his own price. “Muscles too.”
“Let’s not forget – mathematics!”
“Yeah,” Edward knocks his hair back, hoping it’s not too plastered against his head not to make a little flirty wave. “Not to mention that it was very out of character of me, helping a complete stranger out.” He nods with significance. “Just saying.”
“Absolutely noted,” Stede confirms, totally dazzled. He bends down towards the shorter human, encouraging his hands to rest over his heart.
And the human is very pliant about it. Allowing his hands to be manipulated, while trying to conceal a turmoil of satisfaction, excitement and absolute dismay by hiding his eyes with his long lashes and loads of shrugging.
And because he’s an irreparable gambler at heart he adds, “I sure did deserve this kiss you’re about to give me...”
For once in his life, justice comes forth the way Edward was hoping it would - in the form of a palm cupping his jaw. In the form of the centaur’s warm breath tickling his lips, calling him to open his eyes.
Everything that was wretched and hurtful in Edward’s life gets set to rights by the look of awe inside Stede’s eyes.
The centaur does this cutest thing that cuts Edward’s breathing short. He caresses the human’s upper lip with his own with a minute little move, as if testing it. As if checking what it feels like first before the real thing.
Well, it must have led him to some favourable conclusions as the kiss Stede presses over Edward’s lips is as definite as it gets.
Edward bucks into the kiss, making it clear he doesn’t want it to finish too soon. Their noses are a bit smashed against the other one’s face, their lips are unmoving, but it’s beautiful.
And it’s absolutely worth the respective personal hells they have been through for the past days. Their hearts open, their youth blooms, the crystals start shimmering.
Stede’s the one who calls the end, overwhelmed with happiness, dizzy with the notion that his first ever kiss was with a man, and what a man at that! The handsome, selfless, magnetic man. He apologizes for the stop by pressing their cheeks together, holding the long fingers against his heart even harder.
“Your beard stings,” he giggles.
Edward’s well-honed ability of talking even when he’s out of his mind sure comes in handy these days. “It’s in the awkward phase right now,” he mumbles caressing his face between the centaur’s cheek and palm all the same. “Should-should grow it long.”
“I hope it doesn’t cover up your entire face,” Stede comments.
This is the very first contact of an intimate nature he’s ever had, and still the young centaur feels as if he’s swimming in the unfamiliar waters very well. He reads the energy around this rugged person as if it was written in their own secret language.
Finally, the centaur straightens his back to give the man some space, playing his moves carefully, not talking too much, not walking forth too boldly. He hopes this pulls some apprehension out of the human, increasing the chances of another kiss.
But, what the increase in personal space does is bring Edward a sudden realisation that he’s not in a dream. Stede is standing before him, as solid and whole as the crystals the unusual cave is made of.
“What is this place?” he mumbles. “How did you get well all of a sudden?”
“Ah,” the centaur quips, with a mysterious smile, his every word falling like a loveliest chime to Edward’s ears. “This is a place – of magic.”
Well, it’s a way some people have described the thing to Edward.
“This, my dear Ed, is the Womb,” Stede makes a little bow and casts his round eyes around. “A truly mystical place.”
That’s what they said too.
As if to confirm the centaur’s words – and to show off a bit – a wave of sparkles cascades silently over the walls all the way to the very depths of the cave which seems to go in extensively, if narrowed down into a hair’s breadth at its very end.
Edward places his healed palms over his hips. Sure, the rain hasn’t been magically dried out of his clothes, but his back feels like new, his muscles well rested, spared of spasm of the extreme exertion. Hell, even that molar which has been bothering him lately has stopped itching.
Not to mention that he's received a kiss that is surely to change the course of his fate.
Edward’s not a spoiled brat, mind, but let’s face it. He is a prick.
“Well,” he comments, “it sure looks like a pussy to me.”