Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Well, this is as good situation as any to prove everyone wrong.

The thing is, Stede has always said that it is a rare and noble trait, being an optimist. It’s that much more valuable asset when others ridicule it, he would point out further to those around laughing. It makes its price go up.

Ha! Being an optimist in circumstances like these is a child’s play for the veteran of good will and perseverance such as himself. He doesn’t even have to try hard.

But, boy, are these walls steep. Practically vertical. Nature sure has been using some bleeding geometrics when creating this hole.

Speaking of nature, he has tried to scale his way out of the pit a few times already, but, although praiseworthy, his efforts have been futile. A centaur’s body just isn’t made for negotiating such a climb. He did manage to grab onto a plant sticking out of the soil. It did not withstand his weight, true, but at least he was back on the bottom – with a snack!

Yes. All is not gloomy when there’s something to warm your belly up.

It’s just that there’s nothing left to grab. Or climber onto.

Or do in here.

“Hello!” Stede tries exactly once, and remembers that there could potentially be more unwanted strollers around the rainforest these days than his fellow centaurs. He gives this an additional thought and decides that he would suffer greatly if he got found in here by those of his kind too. Well, his pride would.

The situation is not that desperate yet, he concludes. He’ll weigh the same options again later and decide if the time has added more arguments over the other pan on the scale.

At least, the hole over the forest floor will be more than visible to others. His fall cleared away those huge oily leaves that covered the gaping abyss for his eyes. Pray that the ones who see it are of a friendly nature, regardless of the species.

So Stede gives himself time to think of an escape route.

Pity that the broad leaves, which are now forming some sort of bedding over the floor, are not edible for centaurs, as he sure will be in need for a more substantial meal soon. There’s still some cornbread inside his bag, so he finishes that off. Then, he busies himself with flipping the greenery over with his staff, checking for grass underneath. How all this plywood has found its way into a natural – if deep – indent inside the forest floor is nothing short of a mystery for Stede.

Too bad the confinement doesn’t provide much chance for one to stretch their rather long legs other than to walk in circles, but at least he has enough room to give his side a good scratch against a rock that is sticking out of one of the walls.

So, for now, Stede is handling things pretty well.

But even he has to admit that it is much more difficult to keep one’s spirit up when fate decides to throw in a predator into the claustrophobic space.

“Ooof!” a sack of limbs scrapes down a wall above the centaur’s head, and then spills its weight all over his back.

“Eeeek!” Stede bucks his legs with indignation and little to no grandeur, but the effect is still reached.

“Aarghh! Oh! Gglllh,” the human squawks upon landing over the floor, which may be carpeted with the above-mentioned layers, but is still undeniably rocky beneath. All piled up and squirming, the thing coughs. “Who put a fucking hill here?”

“Aaaarh.” Stede rears himself on his hind legs to gain more distance from the abomination, but, he gets thwarted by the lack of space once again. He can’t back away properly without skinning his flank against the side of the pit. “Stay away,” he yelps, trashing his front hooves about.

Disoriented, the man sits up to look around himself. He might be young, but that’s so hard to tell.

Stede has never met a human before. But they seem to be able to sport long hair and remain youthful looking despite it.

But the moment the creature looks up at his company, all the drowsiness bleeds out of his face. “Shit!” the human cries, his eyes huge.

Somewhere from the folds of his clothes he pulls out a sickle and starts a ridiculous, jerky process of getting himself onto his feet, which gives the centaur time to recover some of his wits. Stede points the end of his staff at the spider-monkey-resembling horror, determined to keep it between them at all costs.

But a few moments of reasoning is all it takes for both prisoners to come to the same conclusion – that they are in no condition to endure a fight, let alone win it.

“Horns off!” their joint voices echo the dirt-made space.

The moment the words of truce are exchanged, the human allows his body to slump back down on his side of the hole. He kicks his head back and rubs his face. “Sweet mother of delirium, this is either very bad or very good shit.”

Stede grounds his hooves, but keeps a side of himself glued against the wall in his half of the place. The human must have suffered a nasty kick to the head, as he’s swaying about and squinting at the centaur as if he’s trying to regain control over his own irises.

“At least you’re handsome,” the flub, who’d introduce himself as Edward if he was able to recall his name right now, grins.

Stede squeezes his staff, frowning at the lunatic. “Are you drunk?” he inspects the person again. That would explain both the lack of coordination and the, frankly, outrageous comment.

Edward raises his finger, which looks rather elegantly long. As a matter of fact, his entire body is lean and spindly, if one can confidently discern such a thing under all that absurd clothes. Maybe the wrapping, along with the lack of surplus weight, was exactly what spared the human from breaking some bones during the fall.

What saved Stede from such a fate is beyond him.

“Actually,” Edward braves a sentence he’s been practicing for occasions exactly like this one, “I am never too in-to-xi-cated to mistake a hag for a dish,” he finishes with a smile filled with personal triumph.

But all the words manage to do is scrunch Stede’s features further. “Huh?”

“M-hmm,” Ed confirms and flutters his rather long eyelashes, then blinks hard to re-centre his eyes.

As if that’s not enough, he smacks his lips and squints thoughtfully, sizing the other prisoners up. He then manages to add, “Your shoulders look all round and sturdy too.”

The centaur gives himself a careful look. Well, his shoulders do look alright, in fact, both pairs do. And he is fairly strong, so the human’s got that right. It’s just that Stede doesn’t really get that much of a chance to use his muscles in his day-to-day life. Still, it’s nice to be platonically appreciated by one’s fellow, ah, man.

The moment may not be the most convenient one for receiving compliments, but Stede is neither spoiled in this regard, nor a brute. “Thank you, that’s really kind,” he replies.

Edward’s eyes grow bigger and the smile on his hairless, rather agreeable face, turns more thoughtful. “I bet, I could climb you.”

Good thing that this has turned out not to be a fight or flight situation, as all Stede is able to do is gasp and stutter. “I-I... I beg your pardon?” he squeals.

“Yeah,” Ed continues with a smile so dreamy, it makes Stede’s heart gallop with the most unusual sensation. “If I get a good grip, and swing my leg over to the other side...”

“E-excuse me?” Stede blushes so fiercely the skin on his face practically starts tingling. That all sounds like a rather intimate way to touch a person, and Stede has heard about those. Still, all the while the human – who seems to be a stag as well, and not at all abashed by the fact – continues his merry description of the act.

“... then I can lay all my weight over your back nicely...”

The young centaur has never experienced the fact that he can feel different kinds of emotions about a single thing, but there they are! There’s outrage, rightfully there, of course. Its edge is getting rather dulled by amazement, though. But both impressions get drilled from within by the most peculiar sense of thrill about the picture the human is painting.

A rather handsome human, who continues his monologue as if he’s talking about a mundane thing.

“...and when I finally stretch my knees, I might be able to reach – that branch up there and pull my self up to the edge.”

Seconds pass by, in which Ed crosses his legs at the ankles and starts nodding. He nods a lot.

And there’s Stede, remaining where he is – under a branch, or a piece of root sticking out of the wall, who knows what it is – with his face frozen and his eyes glassy with the inner realisation.

Very ashamed about his assumptions – which were very inaccurate, of course they were inaccurate, this human is stunning, it’s stupid to even feel disappointed about the entire thing – and quite angry with himself upon it all, Stede decides to redirect the sentiment where it was supposed to be all along.

He stomps his foot.

“Most certainly not,” he quips, hoping the displeasure would soon make blood leave his face. “Climbing a centaur’s back is very disrespectful.”

Then he puffs with outrage, “Plus, why should I be helping you escape? Letting you leave me here? How do I know you won’t lead your entire village over, or – or... or that you won’t just push a pack of hounds into the pit with me?"

Edward pinches his eyebrows, thinking. Well, it seems his reputation travels on a good horse, if you don’t mind the expression. Either that or even centaur folks automatically start presuming the worst upon laying their eyes on him.

Maybe it’s his prematurely greying hair in combination with his youthful features. It makes people distrustful. Or the fact that his bag, as well as his brain, is stuffed with opioid plants.

But! For once in his life, his intentions were not to just save his own selfish arse. He couldn't just walk away, leaving the poor fella alone. Still, he can’t blame the centaur for having healthy presumptions.

He’s smart, Ed thinks with appreciation. That’s useful in life. For example, it makes one unreachable for the likes of Ed.

So, Ed raises his palms apologetically.

“That’s fair, ‘s fair, got it.” Then, he tries getting onto his feet. “But,” he emphasizes, “I can promise you that I won’t do that. This centaur trap is too far away from the nearest human sette-mlet. Senttel-met. Senti-ment. Settle...”

“That’s not the point,” the blond raises his chin, throwing some charming locks off his forehead. “The point is, you humans are vile, and who knows what may come to your head once you are out. Certainly not saving an unfortunately trapped member of another species.”

Well, this may be the first time Ed has had a chance to talk to a real, live ‘member of another species,’ but he sure can recognize arrogance when it slaps him in the face.

“Whoa, whoa there, steed,” Edward prompts his fists over his hips, which proves itself more than his balance can take, so he leans his back against the wall, keeping the arms where they are. “A little full of ourselves, aren’t we?” he quips with as much dignity as he can muster.

The centaur looks taken aback. “Do we know...? No, we don’t. How do you know my name?” he demands.

“What? Your name is Arentwe?”

“No, it’s Stede.”

The extent to which this human can raise his eyebrows is simply astonishing. “Steed? Are you telling me that you’re a steed whose name is Steed?”

“I’m not a horse, human,” the centaur brings his rather equine-looking foot down again. “I’m a stag,” he points out. Then he can’t but scorn, “Besides, I’m certain you’re not spelling ‘Stede’ right in your head. If you can spell at all.”

“A-ha! There’s that haughty tone again,” Edward points his finger at the steed’s head which has, thankfully, stopped duplicating before his eyes. “You believe that even sharing this hole with me is beneath you! As if I was a lowlife and you were all important.”

“I’ve said nothing of the sort.”

“It’s as if you have, Stede,” Edward shakes his head at the last word and regrets it. “It sure sounded as if the world would end without you. As if your entire community would cry their eyes out if something happened to you, and nobody would be there waiting for me.”

Hmm. Ed should really ask himself where that came from.

Anyway, at least it’s hit the centaur dead in the centre, making his stiff façade melt away a bit, showing something vulnerable inside. “That is not... I mean... Well, some of them might just... But not...”

But, Edward’s got some more accusations waiting to be fired.

“Don’t give me that crap,” he continues with acid welling out of some uncovered source inside of him. “What are you, twenty four, twenty five? You definitely have a wife, a mistress and at least five little foals out there crying for their papa Stede.”

“I don’t,” the stag finally manages to outshout both the human and the voices in his head. He even makes a few steps closer to the unreasonable thing. “I’ll have you know that I have no fawns, no doe. And no mistresses, thank you very much.”

“Really?” Ed challenges the obvious bullshit.

“Yes. I’m a bachelor, still looking for a suitable mate,” Stede announces with pride. “One does not simply rush into relations.”

“Oooh,” Edward nods at yet another completely imaginary accusation, “so I’m also a slut for having a lover out of wedlock?”

A tiny little hurt makes a crack into Stede’s heart, but that quickly gets cemented shut with reason. Of course this human has a lover, it should not come as a surprise.

That's the single most beautiful pair of eyes Stede has ever seen on a male of any species. And the rest of him – the tall cheekbones, the thin lips, the deep, tight breeches accentuating the narrow waist... Well, as a male, Stede is not beyond respectfully admiring another male as...

“Well,” the other male changes his tune and starts shrugging one shoulder more than necessary. “An ex lover. He kinda broke up with me.”

....

A he? Did he say a he? Has this flabbergasting human just openly declared that he had a lover who was a he?

No, Stede discards the thought. The human must have lost some control over his tongue with whatever he’s been consuming, that’s all. As if the very fact that this absolute stunner of a man has been left by anyone isn't unbelievable enough.

What are some people thinking?

The centaur only realises he’s been gawking with his mouth agape when he discovers that his jaw has a journey to cover in order for him to clear his throat and comment, “Really?”

Edward tries to cross his arms but realizes that he’s forgotten how it’s done, so he just sticks his palms under his armpits. “To be fully honest, I did kinda make him leave me.”

That was definitely ‘he’!

Luckily the man discloses more glimpses of his love life without being asked directly.

“Things got stale quickly,” he explains openly, as if Stede is his confidant or something. “I got bored after a few months, so I may have been an arsehole to him to make him pull the trigger and end things.”

Holy Mother of Nephele, this human is a walking, breathing, unusually twitching shock. Liking other human stags so freely and blurting everything up to Stede, without concealing the less admirable bits.

It’s so liberating.

It demands respect.

Ever so carefully, the centaur folds his legs below himself and settles over the soft bedding. It makes him occupy more than his fair share of the floor, but the human looks nothing but surprised that they are now practically at eye level.

Stede lowers his staff by his side and leans closer to the man.

“You like other males?” he breathes with so much fascination that it fills the little space between them with a buzz.

And it flatters Edward very much.

“Yeah, always have,” the man sniffs with pride.

“And, other humans simply understand that? They – just – accept?”

“Well, my town is very progressive,” Edward lies.

His town is loose, that’s what it is.

“But firstly," he emphasizes, "I came over to my father and told him that I was gonna fuck whoever I wanna fuck. And I wanted to fuck men.” That part is true.

“Ooh,” Stede exclaims with awe. A picture of this young man telling his father off dances before his eyes.

So does a picture of himself doing the same thing before his old man, but that one doesn’t finish well. It kills some elation out of the young centaur.

“My father,” Stede comments with wistfulness, “is so concerned about me producing an heir. He would never accept me courting another male.”

Other males wouldn’t either. Now when he thinks about it – and only now does Stede feel free to actually think about it – not a single one has ever shown an inclination similar to his. Truth be told, not a single roan, black or white stag has caught an eye of this palomino either.

But this human, with his bicolour hair and tanned skin, with his expressive face and bravery... He is something else.

“Pffft,” Edward waves him off with a newly found self-satisfaction. “Childless couples in the Republic of Pirates just pick up whatever orphan people dump at the town’s gate. If I ever decide to get married,” and Ed suddenly decides he’s going to have some high bloody standards for the one he choses to call his spouse, “and if we want a child,” and right now Ed decides they most certainly will, “we will take in an orphan like all others. Everyone else will just have to accept that.”

Stede’s eyes can’t possibly become larger if he tried. “But, people can claim it’s not your actual blood,” his next concern gets uncovered.

Edward shrugs. “It’s the Republic of Pirates,” he says simply. “They’re your heir if you say so. And if people don’t like it, they can sod off.”

The Republic of Pirates? Why on earth has nobody told Stede about such a place in the human realm, where people are themselves and others can either accept that or sod off?

Because Stede’s father is who he is, that’s why. He’s the only centaur in the entire territory who can be himself. He’s allowed to be as averse, as bigoted and as self-centred as he truly is. He lives his true self, cherries and all, while forcing others to mould themselves into his rules, whether they fit in or not.

His only son in particular.

Good thing that the said son has always been and will forever be – an optimist.

Stede spreads his shoulders wide with a decision blooming inside his head – he will capitalize on this encounter with the member of another culture. He’ll soak in all the glory of this extraordinary point of view, learn as much as he can about all the ways he could be living his life. He’ll make this the best Truce Moon in his life!

And once back home, Stede will change things. Because if this dashing human can do that, by simply proclaiming that he no longer plays by the rules...

Then so can a Prince.

“Hello, still here?” Stede waves before the human’s face which, even though it’s kept a daring smile, has been steadily losing sharpness of mind.

“A-ha,” the lovely brown eyes do find his.

“Oh, jolly good. I have so many questions for you,” Stede practically tingles with curiosity and anticipation. “Tell me,” he breathes, “how did you and your... Oh, pardon me, that was too forward. What I’ve meant to ask is, how do two human males do it?”

With this, Stede braces his hands over his front knees and turns into the most attentive listener Edward has ever had. If only Edward wasn’t too stunned by the request to give the fact the appreciation it deserves.

“Isn’t that,” he stutters, “a little intimate?”

But the audience control is no longer in his hands.

Never underestimate the magic you create in a listener, hungry, thirsty and eager for freedom they have never had.

As Stede has decided something marvellous, something he never thought was his to decide – that he’s the master of his own self! That he gets to stand up to the world and tell them that he can be whatever he wishes to and do whatever he wants.

And right now he wants to learn.

“Yes, exactly,” he confirms. “The intimate part is exactly what I wish to know about.”

It’s Edward’s turn to look at the company as if he was talking to a lunatic. Normally, he’s on the other side of such a transaction, and frankly, he can see why people like being the outraged party. It’s kinda’ empowering.

Ah, yes. Edward should remind himself that his fellow-prisoner is a specimen of a species known for their private parts hanging about freely without shame. He can only imagine that a centaur notion of privacy is greatly affected by the fact.

Little is he aware that his own oversharing has unlocked all that courage in the other youth.

“You see,” the blond locks fall over the hazel eyes a bit, but don’t manage to conceal veritable stars shinning out of them. “I’ve never made love to another stag, and I wish to ever so fervently. So...? How does one go about that?”

Edward leans his weight over his other foot. “So, you want me to tell you where the dick goes?”

“Yes!” Stede claps his hands, feeling so elated about the soon-to-be-his knowledge that he’ll generously turn a blind eye to the rude word.

Edward takes a moment to appreciate the young centaur before him. Never in his life has he met an open curiosity filled with so much warmth and friendliness. The few partners he’s had have been eager to get hold of Ed’s body and explore their own lust, true. But mostly they’ve done that with little interest in making Edward feel important in turn.

And this steed here? He looks as if he’s going to listen to what Ed’s got to say and fucking cherish it. It will feel intoxicating to be appreciated by this handsome beast.

So you can bet your week’s worth of foraging that Edward will not be a prude.

“Alright.”

He allows his back to slide down the rugged wall so he too could sit whilst talking. “I’ll tell you everything, young steed,” he says. “And not only about how it’s done. I’m gonna tell you all the best moves! I’ll make you the most wanted bachelor in your herd.”

“Oh, my!”

“Just you give me a moment,” Edward continues to crawl downwards, as the ground has suddenly started luring him with its charms. Finally, he is parallel to the centaur, with his head resting on his own arm. “I’ll just close my eyes real quick and then get ready for the lesson of your life. You’re gonna earn your name, steed named Steed. He he.”

“Hey,” Stede scoffs, “you’re the one to talk. I’ve heard there are humans named Manfred. How ridiculous is that?”

“Hmm.” Edward thinks about this, eyeing the bit of sky shining blue from between the branches in the distance. “Yeah, I’ll give you that. Good point.”

Then he slants his eyes towards his company and cracks a huge smile. “I like you, Stede. You’re loads of fun.”

“I am?”

“Yeah,” Ed yawns, already closing his eyes, getting ready for the few moments of rest. “Sexy too. Don’t go anywhere, will be right there with ya’...”

“Oh,” Stede smiles shyly, a bit grateful that the human doesn’t see him squirming with secret delight. “I’m staying right here. But, wait, wait. Do you mind telling me your name first?”

He might as well demand the man to solve a complex mathematical equation as Ed’s eyes roll under their eyelids, thinking.

“Don’t know...” he drawls, “I think... Manfred? Yeah. Manfred sounds right. Be right back...”

He wakes up a day later.

***

A memory initiates a little dance the moment Edward’s eyelids open. It is of a very intriguing conversation he’s had, providing a pleasant hue in his mind, but no recollection of the other person whatsoever. He blinks, removing some teary drapes off his sight, which sharpens the reality before him. The mist of intrigue solidifies into a tall figure by his side.

It’s the centaur, towering above him, sleeping in a standing position. Edward didn’t dream him into existence after all!

He’s real.

Fuck, yes, he’s real. Of course Edward couldn’t have created him in his mind. He would never be able to invent those memorable features, the refined lines of his brows and nose. The eyes are set a bit apart on his young round face. Oh, and some dark blond hair is curling delightfully over his forehead and above his pointy ears.

The creature is striking an unusual pose, though, leaning against the tall staff with both hands wrapped around it. Almost like a shepherd who’s got too exhausted looking after his flock that he dozed off. The staff must be a sturdy thing as it is withstanding the weight of the oversized upper body.

Well, everyone knows that centaurs have nothing to do with horses, it’s just the enemy propaganda, trying to make them equal to animals in the eyes of human populous. But this up close (and this sobered up), Edward can clearly see the details which do make his companion a separate species, regardless of the fact that their upper body looks human-related and the lower one equine-like.

The human-like torso is not hairless at all! The hair of the lower part extends up towards the belly, but, ever so gradually, it morphs into a coat which is much lighter in colour, with hair so extremely fine and dense that one really has to approach close in order to realise it’s not naked skin!

Edward has seen centaurs before from afar. They come to the Republic of Pirates on Truce Moon days of course, but he has never been in a situation to speak to them directly. Herb and spice traders purchase his harvests in full, and then resell them under the counter never discriminating against any creature intelligent enough to know how money works.

But this up-close, it’s so obvious how different this young centaur is from those rugged, matted, greasy dealers on four legs.

The coat of the lower body is striking! It’s obvious that he’s been taking some good regular care of it. It’s practically golden! The shadows of it, they simply gleam in the absence of natural light, that’s how pampered the hair is. It’s rather monochrome everywhere, over his chest, along the well shaped back, down the tucked in stomach, the croup.

Until you reach the knees! That’s where nature turned whimsy while creating this piece of art. From the knees down, the coat turns strikingly white and decides to shun the smoothness of the rest of the fur. It turns curly and exuberant, looking like the finest lace Edward has seen peeking out of the sleeves of some stinking rich noblemen. The joyful feathering continues over the polished light-coloured hooves, but it doesn’t drag over the floor, picking up dirt and whatnot.

Unlike Edward.

He moves his legs a bit and finds all the places where he's as sore as hell. Simultaneously.

“Fuck,” he wheezes and tries to use the muscles which still obey to sit up. “How long have I been lying here?”

This makes the centaur stir. “Oh.” But he looks as exhausted and drowsy, still stuck in a limbo half-way out of a dream. “Manfred,” he utters quietly and tries a little smile which fails to be cheerful. “You’re awake.”

“You sure are not,” Edward comments, finally up, trying to pop an unruly vertebra.

But Stede does not look good at all. Lines are forming between his eyebrows and over his forehead. His eyes look foggy at best and not at all concentrated.

“I’m afraid,” he says in a breath and takes a long intake of another one in order to finish, “that I’m starving.”

Only on a few occasions before has all Edward’s consciousness rushed fully into his skull, making him so acutely alert that he practically feels more of his hair turning grey. One of them was when he got caught red-handed in a secret firebush grove of the Atlantic clan during, what he had thought was, a stealthy one-man raid.

The second one... Well, Edward is not nearly inebriated enough to disclose that one right now.

But this – this makes his eyes flash with horror. “How fucking long have we been stuck in here?”

Every human in the galaxy knows about centaurs’ true Achilles heel. Their complex bodies need a regular supply of sustenance in order to keep going. Suffering a few days without food and water is an unpleasant but survivable experience for a human. But for a centaur, that's completely devastating!

You try sustaining two hearts, two sets of lungs and what could easily be two hundred feet of intestine without fuel for longer than twelve hours.

Stede wipes his forehead of sweat and leans his weight on one side of his legs. His tail doesn’t even move, but remains there hanging lifelessly.

“Don’t know, Manfred. I think you were out cold for at least a day.”

Shit, that was some good quality shrub he’d found. The whereabouts of the thing gets pinned into his mind’s map without his conscious instruction. But first, he needs to help this guy out of this hole.

Edward too is an optimist, you see.

“Alright, first,” he notes, “I don’t know what gibberish may have left my mouth before, but my name is Edward.”

Stede places his palm over his heart in a gentleman’s gesture of honour, but then presses it there as if he suddenly needs some extra support for his chest. “Nice to meet you,” the poor bugger actually manages.

“Second,” Edward tries, rather worried about the pained expression uttering the pleasantries has left over Stede’s face, “we need to get out of here, like, this instant.”

Stede casts a look around their enclosure, which has been his only pass time for quite some time now, but all that meets the eye are the equally insurmountable blocks of black and brown and nothing new. The exit of this hell is some twenty feet high, with not much between the bottom and the opening that would give the human hope.

It turns out the human creates his own hope! He starts inspecting the walls, pressing his palms against them and then practically leaning his cheek over them, looking up, as if measuring the angles.

“Shit, not much to grab onto,” Edward mutters, moving to the side in a crab-like manner, but keeping the same posture, “and who knows how long this centaur trap’s been here. The walls are as hard as stone.”

“A centaur trap?” Stede manages. This is the second time the human has called it that.

“Yeah, a typical centaur trap,” Edwards squints looking up. “It was right at your blind spot, wasn’t it?”

Stede can’t really recall. All he knows is that one minute he was walking, the next one the leaves under his front hooves gave in.

“All padded with tree bark,” Ed provides some more unintentional education, inching his way around, not finding what he wants to find, “which cushioned your fall a bit, but which you can’t eat.”

Hmm, maybe Stede’s higher functions have been the first to suffer from his state. Sure, he knows that humans and centaurs have been dancing along the edge of a flimsy truce. He knows that the past was bloody, and not the least forgotten, but living side by side has been sustainable for the past three hundred years.

By closing the borders between the two realms for the most part of the year, secluding the two peoples with their insurmountable differences.

But, Stede would have to leave thinking for some happier times as right now, try as he might, he just can’t think of a reason as to why a human would want to trap a centaur.

“You know, for slave trades,” the reason comes out of the limitations of Stede’s head.

Oh.

With the human closing the lap around the circular room, Stede finds that the piece of the wall he’s been standing against is next. He’s not at his most stable self, decidedly not enough to entertain the option of standing without support, or, heavens forbid, make a few steps towards the opposite side of the pit.

So the centaur keeps his side leaned against the earthy surface and starts walking backwards, one foot at a time, clearing the path for the human’s inspection.

“Right there, hold on,” Edward unglues his face from the wall. “There’s that branch.”

Looking up only knocks Stede off balance, so he changes his mind.

“Stede,” the human says carefully, almost bashfully, “that’s the only way. I’ll climb on your shoulders while you can still stand, and I will be able to grab onto that branch. Then I might just be able to crawl up to...”

But that’s all the listening this centaur is capable of.

Intoxication may have pulled out some ten percent of Edward’s character out on central stage – his rather underdeveloped cheery side. But being under the weather sure magnifies the opposite forces in Stede.

Being targeted by the outside world is nothing new. Stede is used to guarding his inner peace from ridicule, scorn and snobbish passive aggressiveness. But add some inner onslaught into the mix and you get – a warrior throwing fists.

In a blind alley. With no one around to fight against.

“That’s out of the question,” Stede interrupts.

“Oh? Ahm. I mean, I’ll do it respectfully and all...?”

“No,” the unmoving rock of determination that is this stag cuts him off, even though he doesn’t feel as firm as he sounds. Bitter fire inside Stede’s throat starts flaring about.

He should have known it all along. After all, disappointment is an old friend Stede could always count on.

“All you are interested in, Manfred, is pulling out your own selfish arse out of this trap,” Stede quips, conviction hurting inside like no backstabbing of his own species before.

“I'm not planning on leaving you in here,” Edward points his long finger up towards the centaur’s nose. “First I’ll get you some food and water, and then I’ll try to pull you out.”

“How?” Stede challenges, trying to ignore his stomach complaining violently about the mentioned sustenance.

But all Edward can do is spread his arms with helplessness. “I don’t yet know how! I’ll have to think of someth...”

“There,” the centaur points out the truth that has so far been obscured by his own foolish optimism. “You won’t find a way to rescue me, Manfred. Because there is none.”

There. There it is. Out in the open.

The horrible, devastating reality Stede has been trying to ignore away all this time. But, that is the truth, isn't it? And no optimism can colour it into something else.

Stede won't make it out of this one.

It makes bitterness spring out of the stag’s very marrow. The bitterness of someone truly underfed of all things he has wished for. His life has been deprived of all the good things – of love, of friendship. The true belonging.

And it will end horribly in the next few days, killing all hope that Stede’s future holds anything good at all.

“You can’t help me up on your own,” Stede’s voice shivers with...with... everything. “And you may not leave immediately. But... you will leave.”

His own words feel like a saw cutting through his own heart.

But it is true. That is the truth.

Everyone leaves Stede. Stede’s old friends. Stede’s old dreams.

Stede’s own mother.

Defeated, the young Prince gradually folds his legs below his belly and lowers himself over the pile of plywood.

“You will leave,” he repeats, as that’s all he’s got to say.

Stede is there to be left behind.

***

It’s getting a bit louder. An even, humming sound is making Stede’s ears perk up, but that’s all he does. Familiar scents reach his nose too, but the centaur decides it’s probably nothing worth waking up.

Until something leafy starts pushing his lips apart, that is.

“Wha-ah?” he tries but that only allows the long narrow thing to find its way between his teeth.

“Drink, it’s water. Drink,” a voice of an angel comes.

Stede obeys the angel’s fingers pushing his chin up. He knocks his head back and feels liquid pouring into his parched mouth.

He moans and drinks, gradually opening his eyes. The vessel in his mouth is made of those thick leaves coating the floor beneath him. He feels their slightly bitter taste, but that doesn’t make water in his mouth any less delicious. He reaches for it and finds Edward’s fingers wrapped around it.

“All done,” the angel’s – Ed’s! – voice adds gently and Stede realises that he’s sucking on air through the leafy tube. “I have more.”

The thing leaves Stede’s mouth. He licks his lips and actually looks at his saviour.

Ed is bending over the ground, plucking something that looks like a dark-green flower out of a little dark-green-flower garden.

The man has tubed the broad shiny leaves! He made cones out of them and stuck them into the floor, with the wider end up. Clear liquid splashes inside the one he’s bringing over.

“We-where...?”

“It’s been raining heavily,” the human explains. “Didn’t you feel it? You’re soaking wet.”

Well, that explains droplets running down Stede’s back while he takes another drink. He’s swaying a bit, but at least he’s now doing it properly, using the makeshift cone as a cup, instead of sucking water out of its narrow end.

“Don’t overdo it,” Edward warns, keeping his eyes on the shaking hands. “I don’t know why, but when sailors are found after a shipwreck, they never allow them to drink their fill right away.”

Stede understands that. He’s certain he also knows the reasons behind what he’s heard, but he can’t recall them now. So he finishes the second cone, and doesn’t ask for another one, even though everything inside him insists that this is not enough.

He eyes the water garden the human has constructed, certain that it is the most brilliant thing he’s ever seen.

Then he falls back asleep.

That was one.

***

“Fuck off, stupid nasty maggots,” Edward growls and Stede realises things have been beating around his body. “Oh. Not you, Stede.”

“What are you doing?” The stag is surprised he’s actually succeeded in uttering a complete thought.

Things have started feeling rather unpleasant, you see. He feels lightheaded, he feels heavy. His insides feel hollow, but the real pain is yet to come.

“Insects,” Edward provides, sounding queasy. He follows every word by swatting an unseen culprit off Stede’s body. “Cockroaches.” Swat. “Centipedes.” Swat-swat-swat. “Termites.” A nail flick. “The rain has made the fuckers crawl out of the soil. They’re all over you.”

“Oh.” A thought that Ed is doing something really kind passes through Stede’s brain. The human even brushes through the centaur’s locks, removing whatever creepy-crawlies have climbed as high. It kinda feels nice, even though no reaction manages to swim out of the heavy folds of exhaustion.

“Shit!!!”

The human stomps his long legs over a spot somewhere by Stede’s side until a crack is heard. A heel of his boot lands again over the thing again, and the man twist his foot for good measure.

Stede drawls out a “What was tha..?”

“Nothing!” Ed offers with a nervous smile. “But, uhm... It’s high time that you get up. Come on.”

“Wait, wait,” Stede opposes weakly. He knows he’s overdone it with lying about. His joints are sore, but the fact doesn’t overpower the need to do nothing about it. “Just a bit more.”

“Look! Look. That back leg of yours is all swollen,” Edward points out, but Stede fails to give his own body part a check. “I’m sure I see fucking black and blue under your hair! Come on. Up! Up with you.”

Argh. Doing anything is hard. But arguing is even harder, so Stede chooses the path of least resistance.

He clambers onto his feet with a lot of difficulty as he’s lost most of the feeling in his legs. His body has never weighed this much, he’s certain of it, as if starvation has actually added to the total volume, which defies some laws of physics. The human actually helps by trying to push Stede’s torso up with his own two hands.

Finally up, and having his mass distributed between four limbs, the feeling of weight gradually disperses.

Relieved, Stede leans his side against the wall and falls asleep again.

That was two.

***

He might have been awake for a minute or two, but his entire attention comes to life only when his eyes manage to catch the only moving thing in front of them.

The human has actually reached quite a height in his climb, compared to what Stede managed earlier. He’s all splayed over the wall, looking like a four-legged starfish. Human legs are so peculiar, too long for their height, with elongated, if flexible, feet.

He’s grunting and puffing, but inching his way up. The sickle is there in his hand, making holes inside the wet wall for the human to stick his other hand, and later a foot in.

That’s smart, Stede’s thought echoes somewhere in the back of his head. He looks like he has a plan. Maybe if Stede keeps his eyes open for long enough, he’ll find out why the resourceful creature has selected the steepest side of the pit as his escape route. The highest portion of that wall looks as if is turning from vertical to actually leaning over the pit’s floor.

Maybe, another thought adds to the first one, maybe Stede was unfair to his fellow being. Of course Edward wishes to save himself, it’s only natural. Of course he isn’t obliged to help Stede out, it’s impossible. The human is so spindly and lean, much smaller and lighter than a centaur, he can’t possibly find a way to pull out a stag multiple times heavier than himself.

It’s only natural, he repeats to himself. There’s no need for the human to die inside this hole with Stede. Stede’s father won’t even begin to look for him before the Truce Moon ends, and that’s in the future so distant that Stede surely wouldn’t live to see it. Hell, he might not even make it until the next day.

Not without at least some food.

Like this thing that has just fallen before Stede’s feet. It’s a broad lump of soil covered with thick wig of green grass.

“Stede, wake up!” the human calls before landing on the floor. He then falls backwards, with his feet and behind up, but Stede won’t tell anyone.

“Stede,” Edward repeats, dusts himself up and hurries to take the lump.

The hunger must have eaten away Stede’s ability to process basic things. He’s staring at his cell-mate with amazement, completely flabbergasted about seeing him back on the bottom. He’s also doing things to the lump, crumpling it into pieces. He grabs the blades in his hand and his sickle then trims the mud away from their roots.

Grass? A thing that Stede can eat? Where in the nine Hells has that come from?

“Here, take this, here,” Edward pushes the first fistful into Stede’s hand. He even closes Stede’s fingers and lifts his limp hand towards his head. “Eat, goddamn it! It’s grass.”

The morsel reaches the centaur’s lips. The smell of food hits his nose, making tears well into his eyes. It doesn’t even feel like hunger any more, as if both of Stede’s stomachs have gone numb with starvation. It has all turned into this relentless need to fill his mouth and do it urgently.

Lucky Edward provides, cleaning one lump after the other, slamming the roots against the rocky piece of the wall to shake the dirt away.

“I knew that lump was hiding grass from our eyes, sticking out of the wall like that,” he mutters between refilling the centaur’s greedy hands and casting his eyes up around the enclosure. “But I don’t see any more like it. Eat that up, and then you can have more water.”

The human then picks up the remaining portion of the lump. His entire front is muddy, Stede sees that now. Of course it is as he’s been crawling up the rain-softened wall, but not in order to reach the edge of it and save his own life.

It was to chip off the lump of soil and save Stede’s life.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

That was the third time Edward has shown kindness to Stede.

Emotions finally rush through Stede’s veins and they erupt out of him all at once. He places his hands over his saviour’s shoulders and bursts out crying.

“Hey, hey,” Edward looks stunned. “You alright?”

But before the human could do anything, a kiss lands right on the corner of his lips, stunning him stupid.

“Edward,” Stede cries, completely oblivious that he’s just messed up with Edward’s head, heart and guts. “I’m sorry,” he wails. “I’m so sorry I shouted at you, accusing you.”

“Ye-yeah?” the kissed corner of Edward’s mouth curves up in a smile.

“Yes! And for the past few days, you’ve been more caring to me than most of my kin has ever been.”

“Four hours,” Edward mutters dreamily, completely melting under the broad palms.

“And...what?”

“Four hours,” Ed repeats simply, feeling his head is getting muggy again, as if he’s taken another sample of the firebush leaves. He takes a discreet lick of the corner of his lips, the scent of the centaur’s skin still lingering inside his nose. “’S been four hours since you accused me I’d leave you.”

Little is to say that it’s all been forgiven right after that clumsy, accidental, sweetest little smooch.

Tears just keep pouring out of Stede’s eyes.

“All the same. Thank you, Ed,” he sobs and swallows thickly.

The right thing to do comes so clear to him that he regrets not seeing it before. “You need to get out of here, Edward,” he says. “You deserve to get out of here. And you are under no duty whatsoever to linger around.”

Stupid centaur. As if he hasn’t just crept inside Edward’s wretched heart.

Not many people have actually thanked Ed for anything he’s done for them. His ex lovers the least.

But this centaur sees things. Exhausted, trapped, frightened, he still sees that he’s not entitled to having people taking an extra step for him, but that Edward has put in a bloody effort to help him out.

Stede invests all his strength into positioning himself against the suitable wall. The one sporting the life-saving branch. “Come.”

He extends his arm towards the human. “Come,” he repeats, beckoning to him. “While I still have enough strength to withstand your weight.”

The reality strikes the love struck fool right in the head. “Oh, fuck. Yeah. You won’t regret this, Stede!”

He scurries over the earthy cave to pick his bag up and pack the sickle, while babbling the entire time.

“I’ll be right back, Stede,” he reassures the centaur. “I just need to run to the loo real fucking quick and I’m back with you.”

The centaur nods and aids him in his climb onto his back. It feels so satisfying actually, to provide a well deserved favour, instead of just offering it to everyone because you want to make the world a better place. This is much more satisfying.

Even the human’s weight feels not like a burden. It feels like some sort of a reward. Stede is making a difference in life of someone who’s actually given a fuck about him, and he’s doing it more than willingly.

“Stede, I’m coming back for you,” Edward keeps chanting as he balances over the centaur’s back, holding against the wall, trying to figure out how to best climb his shoulders. “I still don’t know how I’m gonna get you out, but I am not leaving, you hear?”

“I hear,” Stede confirms, so choked up with gratitude about the previous gestures that he’s not sure if he believes that more will come.

He grinds his teeth and withholds his breath. Edward’s boots are now on his shoulders. Good thing that centaur’s spine is one of the sturdiest structures in the world, keeping the owners upright even when long dead.

Luckily, the human wastes no time. The moment he grabs onto the branch he props his feet against the wet wall. His sickle makes reappearance, carving holes inside the softened soil.

Edward’s eyes start watering the moment his head reaches high enough for the sun rays to fall over his face. Encouraged, he concentrates hard on keeping the steady rhythm towards freedom.

Towards supplies. Towards options. Towards potential ideas that will spring up in his head once Edward sees all the things at his disposal. There must be one of them that would actually succeed in helping the poor centaur out of the imprisonment before the trappers make an appearance.

But the centaur, deep in the dark still can only see Edward’s arse climbing up, but not his true devotion yet as the quietest, the most heart-breaking little, “Goodbye, Edward. You’ve been a good friend,” offends his ears.

Ha! You can bet your white curly tail that Edward won’t remain just a friend for long. Ed will earn another kiss!

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.”

Chapter Text

“I was the first one who was sceptical about the stories.

A cave appearing only to a selected few? Bringing them from the brink of death, only to vanish in thin air after they leave?

I mean, would you believe in such tales?”

Hmmm. If served by this majestic being who looks as if he was made of light? Yes, Edward would believe.

Edward would entrust him with everything.

“There was this commander who claimed to have found it. Allegedly, he was badly wounded by his own men. He escaped into the forest and got lost. That’s when the Womb appeared for him.

He claims that he got healed in a blink of an eye. That he felt no hunger or thirst while in it. But the moment he left the cave to get warm in the sun, the memory of where it was simply got erased from his mind.

Ancient scripts claim the same. Whoever gets blessed with the powers of the cave, they get robbed of the way back to it. Something either happens to them, making them lose their path, or they simply start walking away and realise they have absolutely no recollection of where it was.

This means that we will forget it too once we leave it.”

Ed would never forget. Well, maybe this place would escape his brain like it has others before him.

But this treat for his eyes? Never.

Stede is sitting on the floor by his side, with his legs folded beneath him, but this time, there’s nothing slumped about him! His back is straight, his shoulders upright. The locks have got dried enough for the past hour to show their dark blond colour. He’s shed enough water of the rest of himself too, leaving trails over his coat here and there.

But his eyes are practically beaming with life, making them huge with wonder. Their hazel attention falls over Edward, as soft and as powerful as a blessing.

“Explorers went on journeys to find it,” Stede commences. “Astrologists tried to calculate the position of it in both time and space. They all claim it exists, that it’s just within reach, on the brink of discovery. But that it evades them with ease.

I thought that it was a simple folk story. Or a political construct, trying to prove that some centaurs are superior to others, and thus chosen to be saved by the Womb.”

Edward can’t really argue with the latter. Of course this creature before him is special, chosen to be healed. Ed didn’t really need a miracle to point such a truth to him, but he's glad someone out there has selected that exact way of proving him right.

“So,” Ed finally speaks, “now that you know it’s the real deal, what do you say? Are you the chosen one?”

The light chuckle sure is melodic. Edward’s been listening, he has, it’s just that he’s always been better at looking.

And there’s so much beauty to look at that Edward has been struggling with dividing his attention into equal portions to be evenly distributed everywhere.

He settles for the smile for the time being. “I certainly don’t wish to be the chosen one,” Stede replies. “Just being chosen... that should suffice for now.”

The hint completely flies over Edward’s enraptured head. He does read a bit of hopeful invitation in the tone though, and it pulls a smile out of him.

Fortunately, he doesn’t ruin things, the idiot. You see, an event of a revolutionary scale must have happened in cosmos, resulting in the most mind-blowing bout of luck that has even befallen the young pirate. Apparently, the centaur has come to an unprecedented decision that he is free to take kisses from Edward’s lips whenever he feels like it!

So excise the poor soul for not having enough brain power to both listen to the centaur with the attention he deserves and anticipate the moment the next kiss would fall from the heights.

Oh, one is incoming now. It requires the centaur to lean on both of his hands so he could land his lips over the human sitting by his side. Edward raises his chin too early, resulting in the corner of his mouth getting the best of the kissing again.

Stede’s happy laughter ricochets off the crystal walls as the pirate jumps to correct the injustice. The stag’s too careless about the situation, if you ask Ed, and he can’t have this done half-assedly.

Not this.

So, the centaur gets pulled into some serious kissing. If he had to, Edward would live of the casual pecks to his lips until the rest of his days. But, since Stede seems convincable to extend the kissing sessions, hell! They’re moving to a more serious level, aka, a bit of tongue.

Pleased voices the centaur is making while exploring this new degree of intimacy ignites the human’s entire soul.

And some parts down south.

It’s a good thing that Edward is nothing if not spontaneous, so he doesn’t question the fact that he is throbbing to this extent over someone who’s not a human. Hell, he’s all strained and possibly wet inside his pants. It’s difficult to tell since the garment itself is still sticky with the rain.

He’s happy to leave it to Stede to call the shots, though. He knows this is all new to the other young male, he gets overwhelmed easily. Thus, Edward choses to take it as a compliment that the stag has to make a break after a while.

Stede does make a pause, but he doesn’t back away. He stops to enjoy this land he’s conquered, but he never leaves it. He bumps their foreheads and cuddles his nose over Edward’s ear, shooting another current of arousal in the other youth.

“Can I have,” he whispers to the human, “a bit of rest?”

Edward scoffs. As if he wouldn’t give everything to the stag, especially something as mundane. “By all means.”

The round eyes flash with mischief, and that’s all the warning the human gets.

In a blink of an eye, the centaur shuffles his huge bulk aside so that his humanoid torso could lie down. As if Edward’s his personal pillow, Stede rests his head over his thighs, facing away. He even tucks his hands between the things with freedom.

With a satisfied sigh he relaxes the entire plethora of his various muscles and casts a content look out of the cave and into the relentless downpour.

It’s very fortunate that the rain hasn’t subdued even for a bit, Stede thinks. It provides him with an excuse to remain inside the little crystal hall, all snuggled up and happy.

Torturing this excitable thing, Edward.

‘The actual fuck, is what passes through Edward’s head. The stag has pressed his head right against his hard-on! Sweet mother of restraint, why is he put in the situation like this? Is the stag aware of what he’s doing? Is it a coincidence? Should Edward fucking say something?

And a lot more along those lines.

“You know, Ed,” Stede interrupts innocently, just when the human has started wondering about sizes, “you haven’t been good on your word completely.”

“What do you mean?” Ed breathes, with his thoughts completely derailed whilst his spirit is still up and yearning.

The bloody centaur smiles so widely his pointy ear moves back. “You promised you’d tell me everything about how things are done. You know, between two stags.”

Now Edward has to lean himself back on his hands just to remove his face from the centaur’s peripheral vision.

More silent swearing done, a dozen of questions asked, a litre of sweat spilled and one second later he thinks he’s composed enough to reply.

“Oh, I did, didn’t I?”

“M-hmm,” Stede bites his lip. Accidentally, he also tightens his fingers under one of the human’s knees, playing carelessly with the oddity. “You mentioned teaching me all the best moves. You said you’d make me the most wanted bachelor in my herd.”

“Oh, yeah, I did,” Edward utters, his voice sounding as if coming from a barrel. “Well then, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Oh,” Stede’s head finds a more comfortable position for himself, and a more challenging one for his bed’s intimate parts. “I’m ready.”

Edward’s ready to explode, that’s what he is. What is the centaur’s deal though? Does he really just want to talk, inadvertently toying with Ed’s skillfully masked intentions along the way?

He looks as relaxed as if they’re exchanging recipes.

With inhuman strength, Edward channels his horniness away from his groin and gets ready to invest the frustration into fulfilling his promise – actually talking about sex.

It feels a bit like trying to drive your thirst away by swimming through a clear water lake, but that’s what life is for him right now.

He breaths imaginary composure in and exhales absolutely nothing.

“Alright,” he says and clears his throat. “First, you take his clothes off.”

Stede closes his eyes and chuckles. “Off my clothed stag? Of course.”

“Yes, pay attention,” the human wearing too much clothes chides. “I won’t be repeating the lessons.”

Stede’s eyes are still closed, even though his smile has started showing molars. “Understood. Sorry, sorry,” he chirps.

Edward swallows thickly, throwing his eyes around the unfazed body of his cave companion. If Edward survives this with his good name intact, meaning with his trousers not soaked in his own sperm, he will definitely ask the centaur for a counter-lesson on poise.

“So,” he continues. “You disrobe him. And then you coat him. You coat him with your hands. Learn his shape, the feel of his skin.”

“Oh,” the stag opens his eyes with curiosity. “Where does he like to be touched?”

His nipples, the inner Ed provides, making the said body part tingle, but the outer Ed has still not lost this battle.

“No, no,” he replies with his heart in his throat, daring to hope that they are talking about him. “You touch him where you like. Let your hands roam where you like him the most, show him that. That’s important. You mustn’t fake that.”

Inside his comfortable nest, Stede recalls the human’s naked body working hard to pull him out of the pit. The muscles rolling under the thin skin, increasing all those delicious contrasts between the narrow and broad.

But there is a definite favourite.

“I like his eyes the most,” he can’t but note that. Then he adds, “And his flat stomach, of course. His narrow waist too.”

They could be anyone’s, but ghost sensations raise goose bumps over the named body parts of Ed’s. They do continue down, on their own volition, even though the centaur’s words linger upwards.

“Should I kiss those parts?” Stede wants to know. “Or keep to my hands?”

“Whatever you want,” Edward blurts out. “But you have to enjoy that. Otherwise he would know you’re just doing it ‘cause you think you have to.”

Stede nods after a moment of thinking. “I think I would enjoy kissing him there very, very much. Then what?”

“Then,” Ed’s heart joins the torment, beating at the trail imaginary kisses leave over his front. “Then you can explore lower.” And because all decorum has flown out of the window, he adds. “Be-between his legs.”

It’s not enough that Edward is mentioning the act, Stede has to cuddle against his thigh, kneading on the human’s entire lower body, making things twitch and struggle and want.

“Mmm,” the centaur purrs, shamelessly running his palm over the very sensitive inner thigh beneath himself. “I like my stag’s legs too,” the tease comments. He also buries his nose into Edward’s muscles, the ones that differ so much from his.

Stede would merrily allow his nose to move further, to continue the talk about the place ‘between Edward’s legs’ – which is twitching eagerly against his nape – but that’s where his worries have been waiting for him.

“Edward,” he turns his worried face to look at the human. “What if we’re too different, my stag and I?”

Someone out there has just repaid for everything bad or unsatisfactory that has ever happened in Edward’s life. Stede is talking about him, worrying about their many opposites. Good thing Edward has been doing nothing but drooling over those exact differences.

“Don’t worry.” He dares to give the golden hair a little caress. “He likes that you’re unlike him. I mean, he’d better be, or he’ll be dealing with me.”

It brings a careful smile back on Stede’s face, but he still asks, “But, what if I’m too big? Or clumsy? Edward,” he now asks very seriously, “what if I accidentally hurt my stag?”

Edward drops all pretence to soothe the content of his lap. “You won’t, Stede, don’t worry,” he coos. “The two of you just need to talk about things. Communicate openly. It’s the sexiest thing you can do in bed. Remember that.”

This pacifies the centaur quite well indeed. “Promise?”

For the first time, Edward is the one who initiates kissing. Hell, he practically falls over Stede to seal his own words with a firm kiss to his lips. “I promise.”

“Well, then,” the stag smirks, looking very pleased.

The next moment, he does this remarkable thing Edward wasn’t ready for – he turns his head completely so that he faces Ed’s belly, and the rest of his gorgeous body follows.

Under the gleam of thousands of tiny crystal stars, Stede’s upper torso rolls onto its back. His front legs raise from the floor, bent at the knees. The fur on them is so glossy, the feathering around his hooves sporting those playful curls again.

Next, his underbelly shows, a tender pink barrel no centaur would expose to another person unless currents of absolute trust stream between them.

Finally, the hind legs follow the roll, spread out and bent at the stifle, the thigh muscles in a powerful pile, fetlocks curved with elegance. They finally reveal what they’ve been hiding from Edward’s eyes all along.

Huge black balls making two cushions for the base of absolutely most ginormous erection the young pirate has even seen.

Edward knew they were big, centaur private parts, of course he did. One can’t but notice hefty sheaths bobbing under males’ bellies. And if you’re Edward, you may have had a few vigorous wanks, while imagining what the real thing looked like once out of its pocket of foreskin.

Edward is now presented with the real thing, fully out, fully hard and swaying over Stede’s belly. Ed feels so very, very rich indeed and someone in the cave groans, “Fuck me!”

Stede chuckles and completes the roll, allowing his limbs to fall over the other side. The beautiful cock follows, rocking about, but so deliciously ready it never touches the ground.

It’s actually human-like! Yes, it’s long and muscular, colourful even! It’s base is black, but somewhere in the middle of it, a stretch of pink leads all the way towards the tip. The tip is all round and familiar looking, with a meaty hill around an open cleft.

Edward’s so fucking relieved. The fact that his own dick looks much the same – proportionally – means that Stede wouldn’t lift his nose at what Edward sports in his trousers.

But the situation calls for some serious concentration as Stede now presses his face against the pirate's erection trying to fight off the said trousers.

“Edward,” he coos, looking seductively, as if Edward’s not all shaking and stifling moans through pressed lips. “Since we are talking openly,” his lips move over the twitching muscle, “there’s this thing you should know.”

“Mh-m?”

“My stag is... you.”

“As I was hoping...”

“And,” Stede’s nose blows air through the fabric, “you forgot about smells. They don’t tell much to you humans, do they? But they’re important to centaurs. One should check what their stag’s scent says.”

“True,” Edward struggles to decide if he should concentrate on that hefty cock-head, the plush mouth sending lazy kisses over his dick, or something completely different. “What does it tell you?” he manages.

Readily, Stede digs his nose into Ed’s balls and draws a breath in.

“Male. All male,” he reads with thrill, not paying Edward’s struggle any mind. He continues a steady strip of sniffs following the shaft towards the tip. “Lust. Loads of lust. It’s over-spilling with lust.”

“Aah,” Edward survives spasm over spasm of arousal. Maybe he’s already come, but he just can’t tell as things are glowing. “That all?”

The nose has reached the place at the far end of the garment where Edward’s tip is all bent in its battle for freedom.

“It also likes flowers,” Stede provides with innocence. “Long walks at sunset. Holding hands.”

He does! Edward fucking does like those, it’s just that nobody has ever asked.

“No, wait,” Stede corrects himself, his dark eyelids looking heavy. “That’s me. I like those things.

Anyway. It would like to be freed from this ghastly confinement. Can we do that, please?”

“Yes, like, immediately!”

Edward decides that he’ll completely erase the next few minutes from his memory. They involve a lot of shuffling about, swearing and peeling his boots and trouser legs off with little to no sexiness. Yes, Stede chirps with curiosity upon lying his eyes on Ed’s balls, dick, legs and feet. But, Ed also steps on his own toe and pinches Stede’s hand underneath himself.

So when Edward recalls the magical moments of his first ever sex with Stede, it goes like this: Stede asks to free his cock, Edward does not squeal his approval whatsoever – fast forward to the next instant – he’s bare from waist down and spread out by the centaur’s hands.

Oh, and Stede’s eyes are as big as saucers following the movement of Edward’s dick which is finally free to swing its length about, desperate for attention.

“Ooh, the juicy thing,” Stede mewls.

Edward’s cock is definitely on the larger side for a human. Both of his previous partners were downright bitches about it, too self-conscious about being the smaller party, even though they were the ones topping him in bed.

But not Stede! Not may things could intimate that length, and it expresses its approval by letting off streams of clear fluid.

But, the owner is not done with his pre course. He sticks his nose between the human’s sack and the crease of his thigh and breaths in his fill.

“Ah, yes,” he murmurs into his lover’s intimate skin. If Stede never knew he liked stags, the smell of Edward’s balls alone would be enough for the revelation. “It talks much more clearly now.”

His nostrils and his upper lip start making a trail of fire up Edward’s shaft, making him fist his hands into his shirt.

“It wants me,” Stede continues, finally, fucking finally looking as desperate as Edward has been feeling for the past hours it seems. “It wants me to taste its lust.” His eyes find Edward’s, and somehow Ed knows that the centaur is taking about himself when he says, “It wants that very, very much.”

“Yes, fucking yes!”

Without further ado, the centaur slides his hot mouth over the human’s entire erection and sucks it clean of slick in a single move up. He smacks his lips and groans, looking downright feral.

And he does it again. And again. And again, drunk on the hotness of Edward’s firmness, ravenous for the taste of him, completely crazed about the very notion that the moment of long awaited intimacy has finally arrived.

And Edward? Well, Edward’s lost. Don’t ask about Edward.

Stede indulges like no gentleman has ever done before. The human skin is hot to the touch. His cock is as solid as granite, not as bendy as a centaur’s, but it covers Stede’s palate with sweetness, smelling of pure desire, youth and absolutely no restraint.

“Aah-aah-aaah,” Edward howls towards the crystal ceiling, completely helpless about the fact that he’s about to come without managing a mere minute inside Stede’s mouth. The gorgeous centaur may be inexperienced, using too much suction and maybe a bit of teeth.

But no human has ever been able to swallow Ed's cock completely! Also, Edward has been too worked up to pride himself with something as outrageous as stamina. He feels too enchanted by this creature to do anything but let the damn break.

Little does he know that stamina is not a prized commodity in centaur society.

So that’s what happens now.

Stede scrapes his hooves over the rocky floor with excitement, detecting a peak in Edward’s pheromones, wanting nothing but to be the one who brings pleasure to this human. His strength comes to life, lifting Edward’s pelvis off the ground so he could shove the entire cock into his mouth to mimic the moment a stag enters his partner to spill his seed deep inside of them.

The entire cave trembles with their voices, as the human cramps and explodes. He has absolutely no control over his body, nor he wishes any. He shakes, he strains, he sees stars, he loses his voice.

He loses his heart.

Edward’s surrender wakes a multitude of things inside the stag.

First of all, pride about his lover’s pleasure. So much pride, in fact, that he can hardly contain it. It makes him swallow the sperm with relish.

Then comes the possessiveness. The need to announce his conquest to the world. It makes him dig his nails into the human’s buttocks to have him put as he sucks the exhausted cock clean. It makes him lick one final strip over it so he could give his own a few urgent strokes.

Pure testosterone strikes next. Stede prances onto his feet, his tail flagged, his cock searching.

The human is lying sprawled on the floor, unafraid, undeterred, his eyes filled with adoration, letting himself be roofed by Stede’s bulk. The centaur is so hyped, so there, at the brink of his own peak. All it takes is for him to fist his hand over his own tip a few times, and then strain his pelvic muscles hard.

The centaur starts coming too, loudly and hotly. The first few jets of sperm land over the human’s exposed belly dancing with heavy breathing. The rest of it gets spilled all over his pliant sex, over his thighs, covering him in irregular patterns.

Placating more built-in instincts Stede has never been aware of.

“Fuck, Stede,” Edward groans with huge eyes, staring at the last rivulets being shaken out of the huge tip.

With triumph of having this invaluable creature so pleased and pliant under him, Stede finally gasps for air.

Ed looks so wrecked, Stede thinks. He too is giddy with thrill, swishing his tail, careful not to step over his lover as his hooves wish to dance.

Oh, so this is why stags posture after mating. He can feel it now – the urge to celebrate a bit, to prance and frolic at his conquest.

Ed’s lean frame is all covered with Stede, and very happy about it. “That was the hottest thing ever,” he slurs, barely in control over his mouth. “But!” he raises his finger but can’t keep it up for as long as he was planning to.

“There’s an important part of the lesson now,” he does manage to add with a huge grin. “You need to hold your stag. Hold him tightly.”

Stede is so in love with this ridiculous thing.

He kneels by the human’s feet and extends his legs to the side, allowing Edward to swing his bare thighs over them. Stede collects as much of his lover he can hold, keeping him up from the frigid floor, making a pillow for him to rest his head.

“Now,” Edward utters, sounding so frail that Stede immediately knows that he would do anything he asks for now. “You need to kiss him. Kiss him a lot. On the lips.

Because he can’t take it anymore.”

***

Pros and cons of being with a centaur.

Pros:

He’s so huge! His hands are so big that he can wrap both of them over your waist and almost touch fingers at your back. And he does that a lot.

Next, his fur feels lovely on your skin. It’s so smooth and soft to the touch. The muscles under it are brimming with power, directing your fingers over one hill to the next.

Ah, and the cock. If you have a few days to spare, Edward would love to describe you all the magic of that fat lengthy thing. Of what it feels like over his tongue, of how tightly he needs to hold it with both of his hands, of all those amazing juices it spills, rivalling the streams forming by the mouth of the cave. He would give you all the details gladly, it’s just that he needs time to regain control over his tongue whenever he thinks about it.

Oh, and the speed to which Stede learns, it’s flabbergasting. Copying what Ed does, adding a few signature moves of his own, building upon it with improvements. The lesson about being the best lover out there is so unnecessary, as Stede’s already got what it takes!

The will to put an effort into becoming one.

Cons:

His centaur instincts to hold onto his mate while he is straddling him with his lower body don’t get soothed during their fuck itself, so it turns into a half an hour of cuddling session afterwards.

Well, alright. That con has just turn into a pro.

Anyway.

Pros and cons of being with a human.

Pros:

Edward talks a lot, which is fascinating given the fact that both of their mouths are filled with one another all the time. It eases Stede’s mind efficiently as the instructions he is given are very straightforward and aiming towards a single goal – to provide as much pleasure as possible, with little to no risk of injury for either of them.

Further more, the temperature of his skin is higher than that of an average centaur, it’s marvellous! It simply calls for Stede’s hands to map and caress that firm body over and over again, especially when it gets all wet with sweat.

Which is deliciously salty!

Next, his body is so compact. The shoulders are broad, the waist is tiny, and when Stede wraps both of his hands around it, it isolates the little pear-shaped arse so deliciously. Stede first had to recall all his princly upbringing so not to foam at the sight of the bouncy pink buttocks. Luckily, he learnt that he doesn’t have to restrain himself in that regard at all. Edward loves having Stede’s erection rub itself to completion there.

Stede’s tongue as well.

Cons:

There is not enough room for all the precome and sperm Stede is able to produce either inside the human’s mouth or over his body. They decidedly don’t want to risk sending Edward to wash himself in the rain, as he would surely lose his way back into the cave. So Stede simply licks him clean.

Hmmm. Which is technically another pro.

Either way, that’s what he’s doing right now.

Stede is lying over his lower back with his hands and tongue over Edward’s smooth little hole, licking the muscles open the way the human loves. He’s also entering the man on the other side, as Ed has made it his task to make Stede’s penis as slippery with his spit as possible.

Edward pops the well-sucked organ out of his mouth.

“I’m ready,” he moans, making Stede all tremble with anticipation.

“Oh,” the stag follows the way the fur-less body repositions itself, making that arse bounce. “Me too.”

With a content sigh, Edward lowers himself over the stag again, but this time with his long legs bracing Stede’s stomach, but most importantly with his lovely face turned fully towards the centaur.

It’s wearing that silly grin again.

Oh, yes, Stede’s heart confirms, Ed was right yet again. This human’s mind is like a beehive with brilliant ideas zooming inside, waiting to be utilised, and Stede is all too happy to oblige. After all, that’s how they’ve found themselves in this position.

True, spending time over his back for longer than a few moments might be an unnatural position for the centaur, but it’s worth any discomfort as Stede is now presented with the full view of this man.

Stede loves the way Ed tosses his hair back, his long lashes looking heavy, his cheeks a bit pink with the previous activity. The black hair over his chest is all mussed up with sweat, but Stede’s come to associate the look with a complete satisfaction from his lover’s side.

Because they’re lovers. Stede is mates with this astonishingly handsome human, this remarkable creature whose restless body and equally restless mind keep coming up with the most delightful ideas of how to make their unusual pairing work.

Stede couldn’t possibly feel more proud of him, of his naked skin, of his debauched state, of his juicy erection swaying about on its own, as Edward’s hand is behind his back, reaching for Stede’s.

“Oh, yes,” Edward moans as Stede’s tip obeys his command and parts the buttocks Stede’s tongue has made all wet.

They’re about to mate. Truly mate. They’ve discussed it in length, if you’ll pardon the expression. That too was so arousing that Edward is now wearing a ring of teeth marks on his shoulder.

Edward’s eyes are blazing with fire and Stede shoots a spill of wetness from that look alone. “Yes, that’s it,” the human chants, “that’ll make it loads of fun.”

Another pro to centaur-human coupling – a centaur is producing gallons of slick when aroused, which human body temperature makes rather oily.

But nothing beats Stede’s most fervent wish to be “fun” for Edward. To make him happy, keep him stimulated. All of his mental powers flail about to read the long-haired, long-limbed, long-lash human. Stede eyes are quick to spot a surge of pleasure when he gets touched here, the need to be held and cuddled there, the wish to learn about the mechanics of centaur body all the time.

All Stede wants to do is give when his lover asks, and anticipate his next demand too. And right now Edward wants to take, so Stede provides.

He pushes in.

The first contact makes them both gasp. Stede’s pelvis jerks but he manages to control his hind legs from bucking. His instincts insist he’s to find strong purchase against the ground with his back hooves, so he could push into his lover.

Oh, he’s such a vision, his lover, feeding Stede’s heart with his excited state, with the way he tightens his muscles around the cock-tip inside of him, the way he leans both of his hands over Stede’s bent pasterns.

Of how his erection spits an undeniable stream at the breach.

“More, push in,” Edward moans feeling greedy over a cock like never before. He even starts sitting over the thing, despite the instructions he’s just given.

Fuck, was this why he was bored with previous lovers? Did he need a good stallion dong all this time? The thing is hot, the thing is generous, the thing is fucking alive.

Perhaps too generous, as he needs to stop impaling himself on it for a bit.

“Fuck,” he breathes with a huge grin, casting a satisfied look at his handsome lover. “You are a challenge, Stede.”

Perhaps Stede would take the compliment without his eyes rolling inside his head, if the pest didn’t accentuate the words by making a sinful figure with his hips. “So tight, Ed,” he mewls. “So good.”

What Ed has learnt about himself in the course of the last few fucks is that being praised is absolutely dangerous for him. He completely loses his presence of mind, not to mention that it calls the edge of an orgasm to rush to him with speed.

Somehow he manages to sound suave when he offers, “I have to say I was planning to shove this big boy in all the way to this black line.” He gives the muscular cock an affectionate pat. “But, I think I’ll keep it this deep,” he adds breathlessly. “It feels so good here.”

Stede is very supportive of the idea, don’t get him wrong, but the words of reassurance get knocked out of his head when Edward starts showing him just how nimble his hips are.

My stars, humans are simply made for sex! No wonder they multiply faster than centaurs can. Surely no doe or stag is able to do what Edward is doing right now – making these silky moves up and down Stede’s erection, sliding himself over it like a glove and bouncing back with relish.

Good thing Stede had a rather exhaustive orgasm not an hour ago, otherwise he would finish two strokes ago. Three. Four. Five...

“Ah, Stede, ah” Edward calls, with all his muscles strained, his eyebrows pinched, his long hair sending waves down his back as he picks up speed. “Feels so good.”

The only thing that is stopping Stede from shooting his load at this very moment is the sheer amount of incredulity which spins his head. Is Stede dreaming this all up, curled up in delirium, imagining that he’s managed the impossible feat of winning the affection of this beautiful pirate?

But Edward returns him into his body when he tightens the grip over Stede’s front hooves and croaks, “Now. Fill me up now!”

Every other though takes the backseat as Stede's got work to do. His body is simply burning with this love that wants to erupt and wants to do it the way Stede’s lover asks. The centaur’s hips do start bouncing, allowing the human to take a break from his strenuous task. His dick gets diamond hard, simply taking over Ed’s weight and everything turns to a blur.

With shallow but fast thrust, Stede spills his orgasm into the human’s tight little arse, making it very slippery, making splashes of cum burst out.

He sees Edward’s chin lifting up, he sees him sucking some air in. He sees one of his hands travelling down to start playing over his own tip. He hears and feels nothing but fire, but he does see the moment Ed reaches his own peak.

And he does so all over Stede’s front.

The centaur laughs, gleeful about this achievement, soaking in every single moment like it’s sustenance.

Edward is only able to groan and keep jerking, but that does nothing to make the scene any less erotic for the Prince. His thighs are trembling as wide spread as they are to straddle the centaur’s bulk. His fist is making his tip disappear and reappear rapidly, staining even his fingers with generous white streaks. Oh, even the way his balls are straining up is so delightful.

For the final few strokes Ed even protrudes his hips just to have every last drop of dense cum squeezed out of himself and between his lover’s front legs.

It’s beyond beautiful.

“Whoa,” Ed finally stops and lets go of himself.

A clear droplet of sweat runs down his temple, and he wipes it off with satisfaction. He even sends Stede a wink, the cheek, before he twists carefully to cast a look at the organ still holding onto its place inside of him.

“Oooh, we did reach a third of your cock, but I can’t be sure. It’s kinda dark all of a sudden.”

Stede generously allows something as unimportant as surroundings to come to his view, just to send a meaningful reply to his mate.

But he finds something odd.

“Ahm,” the centaur clears his throat and points a finger at the skies.

They haven’t changed position per se. Stede is still on his back, with his legs curled, his penis extended and up Edward’s arse. Edward is as gloriously naked as before, all spread out and glossy to make room for the centaur’s belly bellow him and the centaur’s cock inside.

But the ground beneath them is soggy with rain, the air is chilly, the night time is pulling some eerie calls out of the forest residents around.

Stede’s heavy staff falls down as it’s lost its crystal support.

“I think,” Stede makes a sorry face, “that we’ve been evicted.”

***

If there was a spy in the forest – and there is none, Stede’s father swears to God – they would think that what they see is just a couple of drunkards on their way home from an inn.

The two are walking side by side, talking and laughing loudly. Very often they lean one against the other until one of them, the larger one, starts knitting his legs and stumbles aside.

From time to time, the smaller one gets plastered against whatever surface presents itself. The taller one then drops onto his knees and their voices get muffled by kisses and flesh.

Oh, there’s that one time when they came across a thick log. Now that was a wonderful table for Edward to be served over, for Stede to feast on. And what a feast it was! They even reached a bit more of Stede’s length which made Edward so triumphant that he boasted over his own capacity for hours.

But there are these moments, very tender, very domestic ones when their souls simply fuse together in a slow dance.

They light a fire, they make dinner of whatever greens, berries and eggs they find in the forest. The night sets quickly and the two young creatures actually go to sleep, as drained as they are of all the day time activities.

They lie tangled over a bed of leaves and leather bags. Ed finds the best places in Stede’s embrace to snuggle up. It’s especially comfy in there when he swings his legs over Stede’s curled up ones and allows the centaur to warm his cheek with whispers, chuckles and appraisal.

In turn, Edward recalls some overinflated sea adventures of his own for the centaur’s eager ears. Little is to say that centaur folk don’t make good sailors. Their feet don’t fare well over slippery decks or up poles. Not to mention the amount of food one would have to secure for a multiple–months–long voyage to fill stomachs of just a single one.

Thus, centaurs remain short-distance travellers. Well, the extremely rich ones at least, as you need to grease up the crew extensively for them to accept a non-human on-board.

So humans reign the seas, humans hold the trade routes.

And humans turn to pirates.

Stede can’t gulp down enough stories about the Republic of Pirates. His young spirit simply vibrates at all the rugged, tough and violent bits of it Edward doesn’t exclude from his tale. Deprived of everything that is not a sterile marble of a palace, Stede’s mind finds vigour, courage and glory even in the filthiest of thugs Edward has ever fought in an inn.

“I would love to go there one day,” Stede breathes with his eyes glossy with wonder. “How would they react to a centaur?”

Edward scratches the stubble on his chin. “Out of a Truce Moon? I’m not sure. I know a few who would ride your bones.” He narrows his eyes. “Quite a few of them actually. Anyway, I can’t vouch for the rest.”

It’s actually a question of unexpected complexity. One can’t say that even humans are welcome in the Republic of Pirates. Newcomers and residents are looked upon with equal suspicion. They are bloody pirates, ergo not the most trustworthy people.

But a centaur? And the one as handsome as Stede? He might cause both swords and the cheesiest of pickup lines to be drawn out.

Edward doesn't appreciate either.

The truth is many things plague Ed's mind in the rare instances when he’s not being expertly ploughed out of his skull. Edward definitely doesn’t want this to end. All this easy acceptance, this wonderful closeness he feels streaming between him and this stag. In fact, Ed is so accepted that he – and this is unprecedented, mind – feels no need to lie about a thing!

Ed’s not blind either. He knows the centaur returns the admiration full heartedly. He sees it in admiring little glances. He hears it in the melody of Stede’s parade gait. He senses it in the tightness of the centaur’s embrace, feeling as if he is employing all his powers into not crushing his lover with thrill.

Fuck, he feels it in the good ol’ throb that magic cock leaves behind.

But all of that is exactly what’s got Edward worried.

You see, he’s been through first-sex-euphoria before, he knows how misleading such an infatuation can get. And he thinks this is exactly what is going on here.

He’s Stede first ever partner, and a human one at that. What if this is all just the fleeting magic of a fuck for Stede? A pretty fog one’s inexperienced brain choses to reward itself with for a short while?

A siren song leading one’s ship onto rocks?

Edward doesn’t want this to end. But the Truce Moon is nearing its final days, and they are steadily moving towards the border with Stede’s herd territory.

Well, maybe it’s better that way, he persuades himself as Stede sticks his nose into Ed’s hair where he likes to spend the night. Their union is deemed to fail anyway. There is no land that would accept love between the members of the two hostile species.

The good news is that Edward will get left behind before Stede comes to his senses, and absolutely shatters his heart to smithereens by telling him off himself.

So Ed closes his eyes and scoops closely against his sleeping stag while he can. He presses his lips in a thin line and decides to escape the realty just for a moment, hoping that would trick his brain into making some dreams of the way Ed wishes things would turn out.

As Edward doesn’t want this to end.

***

“Here we are,” Stede says through a tense smile.

Where they are is the Final Hill. The little grassy uprising in no-man’s-land which provides an incredible view down into the centaur territory.

Vast field and grasslands have been cultivated left and right for as far as the eye can see. And before them, over the last little outskirts of the forest one gets met with the thick walls of the city-fortress. Behind it, there are roofs of shacks and houses, some packed in neat rows, others scattered about, making the place looking exactly like any human settlement by the sea.

It is not a port as no ship or boat could tame that bit of the ocean to reach that cliff. Precisely such a hostile spot, the one away from humans grabby hands, has been chosen as the right place for the palace to be built.

It’s a huge thing, Edward’s eyes can’t but travel right towards it. Maybe it really looks scary, with its tall stone walls and rooms built to house creatures much taller than humans. But maybe it’s Edward’s own general presumption that he would never be able to set foot in such a place of riches as a commoner.

And a pirate.

And a human.

Hell, this very spot he’s standing on will be out of reach for him as soon as tomorrow, all manned by armed border guards of both species, but that is not one of his concerns right now.

Edward’s entire front cramps with pain as he stares at this place which is about to take Stede back and close its heavy door behind him.

“Alrighty,” he sighs feeling needless prickling under his skin – a typical Edwardian reaction to doing the Right Thing. It’s always felt unnatural. “I’ll walk you off a bit more.”

But Stede’s hand grabs his shoulder tightly. “Wait,” the centaur says. “This is a nice spot, I want to do it here.”

“Do what?” Edward swivels around to look at him, hopeful and shocked about the fact that the reply might be a fuck. They’ve done it only this morning. Even though they just rubbed their dicks together, it still counts.

But Stede’s smile is too broad and his eyes are too filled with his very soul for such an intention. Yes, it’s been just a few days (exactly three) since they’ve started being intimate, but Stede has never initiated the act by cupping Ed’s cheeks with both of his warm palms.

“Edward,” he whispers gently and his face changes angles before the human’s eyes as he’s started kneeling before the pirate.

Ed can feel his heart in his throat, pulsing hard at the undeniable significance of the moment.

“Edward Teach,” Stede utters with all the gentleness in the world. “I love you. I love you deeply, mmph.”

That was Edward throwing himself over Stede’s mouth. “Stede,” he wails and keeps kissing. “’Awe you too, mmm.”

Good thing that an average human isn’t able to tip a centaur over as they would be rolling in the grass right now. An average centaur is able to crush human bones, but luckily Stede is all about restraint.

“But,” Edward manages to come out for air, “what are we... I mean... How are we..?”

“Calm down,” Stede chuckles, looking as the master of situation for some irritating reason. “First things first.”

He takes the bag off his shoulder, never commenting on how hard that is with Edward’s arms still relentlessly wrapped around his neck. He fumbles inside it a bit before pulling his closed hand out.

He holds it against his heart. “Edward,” he says with a giddy grin. “I want you,” and he starts unfolding his fingers to show the content, “to be my husband.”

What sits in his palm is a large precious stone. Deep red in colour and and tear-shaped, made rather flat on one side for its intended purpose – it is waiting to be fashioned into a piece of wedding jewellery for the one you are gifting it to.

“It’s garnet,” Stede explains to Edward gawking at the object. “It’s my heart stone, a very personal thing for a centaur. I guess you humans have different customs but...”

“Wait. I can’t.”

Edward stumbles back, detaching himself out of his lover’s personal space.

Crisis, his brain insists, Crisis! This is not for real. Stede – he is rushing into things. He-he will regret this the very next moon.

This will all be taken away from Ed.

He rubs his own face and wishes to pull his own hair out, but he’s stopped by the centaur’s shocked stare. The poor wide-eyed thing is waiting there with the wedding gift in his hand, and a broken heart all over his face.

“Stede, listen,” he tries to recall sense back into his body. “Are you sure? Completely sure about this?”

Stede blinks hard, but his voice is nothing but firm when he replies, “Of course I’m sure, Edward. I love you,” he reminds his crazy lover.

“But it’s...” Edward tries to voice the noises in his head. Impossible, they insist. You’re making a mistake, they add.

You’ll regret having anything to do with me.

“Look, Stede,” Edward presses his palms together, which stops them from shaking, but otherwise doesn’t help. “I love you, I do.”

“I know.”

“But I think you haven’t thought this through,” he insists. “What if you wake up one day and realise that I am not a centaur.”

This makes Stede shake his head with disbelief. “I know you’re not a centaur, Ed. It’s kind of obvious,” he makes a nervous smile.

“Not like that,” Edward searches for words with frustration.

How come things are so clear when he shouts them to himself inside his head, and yet it’s so hard to put them into meaningful sentences?

The answer is that his notions are unreasonable, but in order for one to see that they need to be mature.

And not Edward.

“You know, I think,” he finally decides, “that you need to let things settle, yes. And then!” he shakes his finger towards Stede as if threatening him with the rest of the sentence. “Only then decide if you want to marry me.”

Stede’s eyebrows get drawn close. The gem disappears into his fist again and he lifts himself up from the ground. It’s his turn to impersonate his old aunt with the posture. “Edward,” he chides. “Is this one of your elaborate schemes you get rid of your lovers with? You know, you can just dignify the bloke by...”

“No,” Edward practically screams at the thought that he’s fucked things up to such an extent.

He rushes back to the centaur, but he can only embrace him around the waist as Stede’s completely, well, erect.

“I don’t want to get rid of you, Stede,” he utters with panic, his chin pressed against the centaur’s belly. “Fuck, I want to marry you, like this fucking moment. But,” his eyes start wondering about. “I need to know. I need to be sure that you won’t change your mind in, like, six months.”

Thank fuck, this returns Stede to his previous position so Edward can grab him around the shoulders again.

“I don’t want you,” he continues, “to realise that humans are not doing it for you anymore. That you need someone of your own kind and just discard me like an old sock.”

“I won’t change my mind, you silly man.” Stede reassures him, wondering what a sock is. Still, even Edward’s stubble doesn’t burn that much now that Stede’s got his reply. “I love you, Edward, and I like that you are human.”

He manages to unglue the man’s prickly cheek so he can look at his face. What he finds there is so much dismay, and so little peace.

Edward is an unsettled creature, that much is clear to Stede. Perpetually moving, never resting, creating chaos, but at the end of the day – creating. That magic of the opposites is one of the forces drawing them to one another, making Stede responsive to those exact features. Stede’s stability, his trustworthiness, his way of nurturing until things start to bloom, they attract the young pirate in turn.

And now he’s in need of understanding Stede can provide.

“I’m planning a very long marriage with you, Ed,” Stede runs his hand through the long grey hair. “But I don't want you to keep doubting me the entire time. What can I do to reassure you once and for all?”

“Donno,” Edward responds, tightening his grip. “Maybe if you take some time to think?”

“Think if I want to be with you?”

“Yes, that,” the human returns, sounding a tad more hopeful. “I need to know that you’re not doing this at the spur of the moment. After some time, you might decide that you were wrong, that you want someone of your own species. Don’t fret, let me finish. And, when the time passes, and you still choose me, then...” a relived smile starts spreading over his darling face. “Then I’ll believe that this is forever.”

“But, darling,” Stede warns, “that means we’ll see each other again in a year. The borders are closing tomorrow, we will have to wait until the next Truce Moon if we part now.”

“Yeah,” Edward says, thinking. “Well, if you give this a year, eleven months to be more precise,” his eyes find Stede’s. “Then I’ll truly believe that you won’t replace me with a centaur once you come to your bloody senses.”

Stede sighs.

The Prince had Big Plans, you see. They may or may not involve telling his father that he’ll fuck whoever he wants to fuck and such.

They may or may not include denouncing the throne.

They may or may not lead to Stede becoming a pirate. The world’s first ever centaur pirate!

But there are things more urgent than that, it seems. The most important one is looking at him with huge insecure eyes, asking for support, asking for reassurance.

Stede sighs with fondness. What else can he do than give the love of his life this one token of his devotion?

“I hate being separated from you,” the centaur makes sure this is clear. “But if this will put a stop to your nonsense, and make you marry me afterwards...”

“It will, it certainly will!”

“Then I’ll hold onto this,” he returns the gem into its fortress of leather. “To offer it to you again.”

“Aww, you're keeping that... Well, alright.”

“At this same place.”

“Yes.”

“In eleven months, on the first day of the Truce Moon.”

Edward nods with his chest filled with ease. Fuck, it’s going to be hard, so hard to endure all that time without Stede, without his solid presence, anchoring Edward to now and here.

That’ll be a challenge, he tells himself. But the one worth enduring if the prize at the end of the deadline is Stede – completely, irrevocably his Stede who won’t regret his choice.

“I’ll be here,” Ed promises with his entire soul. “I’ll be waiting for you here, Stede. Fuck, I’d set up a camp at this spot to wait it out, if that wouldn’t get me stacked with border guards’ arrows in a heartbeat.”

Stede chuckles. “No, my dear. This needs to be fair,” he offers gallantly. “You’ll go home and think as well. Think if living with a centaur won’t become too much for you one day.” He makes a kind smile. "You might realise that it's better to stick to humans."

“Oh, don't worry. I’m not going back to humans,” Edward laughs. “Believe me.”

A knowing smile lights Stede’s features, “Oh, I’ll make sure you won’t.”

Right there, on the Final Hill where the two realms collide, Stede applies all his training, step by step, completely ruining Edward for anyone else.

Oh, and they reach the black markings on this go.

Chapter Text

Ed is so impatient to check if he’s won the lottery that he spills the contents of the first net the moment he surfaces it. Still draining with water, he sits inside his rowboat and sets to carving the oysters up.

He blows wet hair off his face and tries not to revel too much in Stede’s delighted face dancing before his eyes, but fails gloriously.

Very soon the bow gets littered with discarded shells, but his hands remain empty of any pearls.

Well, he expected that much, he lies to himself, but that’s not even a tenth of the molluscs he saw down there, he cheers himself up.

Successfully encouraged, Edward hangs the net basket around his neck again, approaches the edge of the rowboat and takes the next plunge.

***

“That’s when I saw 'im,” the filthy drunken lowlife continues in a tone which is intended to build suspense in his listeners.

“Aaah,” filthy drunken listeners gasp, successfully drawn up to their noses into the story.

The narrator’s eyebrows look like two stormy clouds roofing over his murky eyes. “The Kraken,” he growls the word, uncovering the fact that he’s missing a few teeth.

“No! Fuck,” the audience shits themselves at the piece of information – which also happens to be the title of the story – the way only someone who’s had their fair share of drinks at the story-teller’s expense can. “What you do? How it looked like?”

Edward’s fascinated by the way Steven’s rumbling remain both consistent and popular enough to draw a regular stream of visitors for months now. There’s hardly a soul out there who hasn’t heard of old Steve Geoff, and the tale of how he’s escaped a prison of some sort by fighting his way through a sea monster.

A sure way to make the man shut his mouth is to ask him about the dungeon he was in before the epic battle, though. It’s practically a stop button for the old sod. Those who know him from before confirm that he’s been missing for a few years and that he appeared out of nowhere a few months ago, wearing scars, unsettling eyes and memories he wants to drown.

What not many witness are fragments of the true escape story which fire out of the old sailor when he falls asleep in what has turned into his boot in Jackie’s bar.

“Bow to waves!” his entire body would jerk at the time, as if the exclamations simply have to be squeezed out of him that way. “Bow to waves! Hold!”

On other occasions when he’s on his own at the boot, the poor disturbed fella just sits there with his hands clutched at the edge of his table, staring at the abyss before himself. “Don’t ye tie your hand to the must,” he babbles to himself. “Hands get torn off. Tie ye your waist.”

Right now, the trauma has got chased into the background by the two pairs of eager ears. Steve’s in his element, and his element is having audience for the Kraken story. Also alcohol.

“Don’t ye get fooled,” he croaks to the two. “Kraken have many faces! Yous expect a tentacle and get nipped with a pincer.”

Edward blows air through his lips, bored. He should have ordered a beer, but he feared of what would become of it if he got summoned and left the pint behind. It would most likely get hogged by the waiter himself, Husband number six, if Ed’s got his numbers in the right order, but that wouldn’t bother him that much.

But, he hates to think what those two over there would do to an abandoned pint.

Two figures, dressed in black are sitting at a table by the window. Their own drinks are collecting dust before them as they have both immersed themselves into their unusually long pipes, blowing smoke screens before their own faces with their eyes cast down.

Listening to Steve’s story.

Yeah, those two would season one’s drink with questionable things with unquestionable consequences.

Husband number twelve appears from the back room, fucking finally.

“Get in,” he throws across the room towards Ed. He does it with hate, which is a good sign. It means that Edward’s still in Jackie’s favour.

Either she hasn’t found out that he was the one who stole her most generous herb re-seller, or she’s only pretending she has no intel and is waiting for him in the back room with multiple guns hidden on her person. You just never know.

Edward likes that about his friends.

So he strides cheerfully between the tables towards Husband number twelve, looking him straight in the eye, hoping he’d piss him off properly.

But he gets stopped in his tracks. And pulled down. And his nose gets hit by a stench of numerous drinking rounds and no gurgling liquid in between.

Steve is staring up at him. His eyes are feverish, strangely focused considering the time of day. What’s left of his teeth is now grinding together.

“Use your sail,” he wails, his breathing picking up. “Use your sail as an anchor, ya’ hear?” he shakes, and frankly, looks like he could use a vomit.

“Knock it off, Steve,” Ed tears his sleeve out of the drunkard’s dirty fingers. “This is my business-doing shirt.”

***

“Alright, alright,” Ed seals, or rather, squeals the business deal against the surface of the table. “You’ll get two harvests.”

“Good,” Jackie growls, or rather, uses her regular business-doing voice.

She then removes her persuasive self off the slim pirate, and packs the arsenal of her arguments into their respective secret pockets.

Well, she's found out, still, Edward straightens his back, amused. He feels sorry that no husband was around, as thirty percent of them would surely have foamed at the mouth upon witnessing the compromising position they were in.

Additionally, demanding only two of his harvests as a compensation for the transgression is a sure sign of Jackie’s affection, and that alone would make Husband number twelve go berserk.

Jackie slumps her imposing body back into her seat, making things around clang and shiver. One has to admire the quality of her suits as the elegant things survive her relentless movements, while exposing the exact amount of flesh and wood as she wishes them to.

“Now when that’s settled,” she concludes her lesson and points her chin at him, “you didn’t come here to repent. What’s you got?”

Quite a few things, actually, but Edward decides to build towards the grand finale.

He approaches her chair and shakes the content of his pouch into her hand.

It’s two pearls this time. Regrettably, not of the size Edward has imagined in his romantic head, which is exactly why they now find themselves in Jackie’s wooden palm.

“Hmm,” her thick fingers bring the objects to her eye. “T'is better than the last crap. Good shape. Impressive luster, actually.”

“They’re local luster,” he adds with pride, hoping he’s using the word properly. “Just like some other local beautes I know.” He sends her a flirty wink.

Dancing on the knife’s edge is an old game of theirs. And it actually makes the brute let off a silent chuckle which makes her curves bounce.

“Keep those comin',” she comments and looks at the merchandise. “These too if you found a good source. But tell me,” she leans over the table to look at him in the eye. “Why the hell you keep tradin’ pearls? You get more money for those exotic herbs you have a knack for findin’.”

“Two harvests of which you have just torn out of my dirt-poor hands,” he reminds her with his eyebrows raised.

“Which I earns,” she educates him back, “by not carving up your skinny arse.”

Effectively reminded of the fact, the young pirate returns. “Oh, yeah. Anyway,” he starts as if he hasn’t secretly hoping she’d breach that exact topic. “Who knows, I might be looking for the world’s most perfect pearl.”

She squints his way, pushing her full lips aside. “Who the fuck for?” she hits the bulls eye, in her usual manner.

With freedom of someone who’s deserved such an honour, Edward makes a few steps her way.

She’s always been overflowing with jewellery. Everyone in the Republic of Pirates knows she’s got an appetite for precious stones, and an impeccable eye for gold.

The same goes for men. She’s been collecting husbands left and right as if they were stray cats. Both of her ears are crammed with wedding earrings, so much so that there’s practically no space for another, but the woman is a sort of a magician in that regard.

Sure, there’s that scar on her left earlobe that nobody dares to mention to her face. It’s right where she ripped the earring number ten off with grief when she saw her husband Alfeo’s dead body.

Even though she added more earrings afterwards, she’s left that scar vacant, as the honorary place of her mourning.

For the first time in his life, Edward can understand the gesture. You see, he’s never known that he is able to love someone with so much verve, let alone hope that he’d ever meet the person who would cause that. And now, the mere though of losing Stede simply pierces through his breast bone like an arrow would.

He slides a tip of his finger over the earrings symbolising the living husbands.

“I too,” he finally replies to her question, “hope to wear a wedding earring soonish.”

This makes the black woman shift in her seat to send him a challenging look. “You?”

Edward spreads his shoulders wide with fake offense. “Yes, I. Am I not good enough to get married?”

“Oh, no,” she replies. “People get their ugliest daughters wed by the means of winning a bet all the time.”

The only reason he’s bothered to fight a smile off his lips is because he’s got a serious point to make. “It’s nobody’s daughter,” he emphasizes. “You know that.”

She scoffs. “Of course I know you loves cock. The entire Republic of Pirates know you loves cock. It’s just that it’s unheard of two cocks getting married per se.”

Edward’s been saving the following for such a comment. “Well, if you can have six hundred husbands, than I can call one one.” It hasn’t really come out as cool as it sounded in his head, though.

Jackie’s eyes make patterns across the ceiling as she gives this a brief thought. “Hmm. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that there’s a man insane enough to call you a spouse. This place is filled with crackpots.”

And now comes the really hard, really risky, really difficult part, calling for some serious arm crossing and shifting about.

“Hesnotfromaround,” Edward murmurs to his chin.

“What was that?”

He turns his face away, as if looking for a stash of courage she’s hidden somewhere in the room. “Hesnothuman,” he adds almost imperceptibly.

But she’s heard him.

She’s heard him alright.

Nothing creaks, nothing squeals, nothing fucking dares to rustle, as that’s how menacingly she stands up from her chair. Her tall, broad and dangerous shadow falls over him, fucking removing all oxygen from air.

Edward plays dead.

He plays paralyzed.

He plays stupid.

Her lips get so near his ear that he suddenly remembers the woman does not shy away from using her teeth to make a point.

“What did you say?” she utters in a voice so low it must have startled that visiting flock of whales.

It makes Edward’s tongue loose like that of a man at the gallows.

“I love him, Jackie,” the treacherous things lashes out. “I love him so fucking much.”

He knows what he hoped her reaction would be, but he also knows it was a far-fetched dream. But feeling her false hand carefully distributing its weigh over his shoulder so she could make him face her?

He did not expect that, nor the sheer amount of motherly worry that is making her forehead scrunched.

“You love – a centaur,” she states carefully.

“Yes,” Edward replies, feeling numb with nerves, so much so that he, once again, uncovers the truth in its rawest, the least elegant form, which is something that he hasn’t planned to. “I want to live with him here, that’s why I need your help.”

Her face starts shifting. Her eyes close. Her lips get pursed. Her nostrils flare.

Ever so slowly she turns on her heel, prolonging Edward’s agony with her silence. Seeing her back turned sends cold down his spine. Seeing her sitting down without looking at him makes his ears ring with distress.

“Please, Jackie,” he barely breathes. “We agreed to meet again the next Truce Moon, so... so that he’d have time to think about it. Then I’ll hear if he wants to marry me for certain, but...”

If there wasn’t for a slight swell of her bosom as she breathes in, one would think that she was a monument.

“I miss him so much,” the desperate idiot continues nonetheless, “I can hardly breathe without him. So I need to set things up for him to join me here, and I need you...”

“No.”

The word cuts through Ed’s ribcage.

He tries to complain, but that gets cut at its root too. The look in her eyes is as pointed as an ice pick. The conviction in her voice is so solid one can tie a ship against it. “You’ll get both of you killed.”

“My point exactly.” Edward dares to make a step her way. “I need your protection. He needs it. People will listen to you...”

“No, you listen to me,” she thunders so loudly the walls ring. He’s sure that anywhere in the radius of a few miles men who share her in marriage have stopped in their tracks and their inner compasses all turn towards her. “There’s this one thing people do with passion,” she squeezes through her teeth. “People hatin'. Haven't you notice?”

Arguments sure sound a ton more convincing when proclaimed in her leaden voice. That’s the exact tool Edward has been counting on, so the message fails to do what it was supposed to – make him see reason.

“I know,” he reassures her. “But the war was three hundred years ago. Peace has been nothing but consistent for centuries.” He’s done the research, hence the following. “Besides, the Republic didn’t even exist back then, and we pirates don’t care about something as lame as conventions.”

But this fails to make her budge from her point of view.

“You can’t bring a centaur here,” he lips form words over her clenched teeth, “and pretend local scumbags won’t try to kill ‘im for no reason at all.”

This does make Ed genuinely confused. “They,” he tries, “they are trying to kill me for no reason at all. It practically equals to being accepted here.”

“No, they trying to kill you because you’s an insolent little shit,” she points her finger at him. “And yous boyfriend will get killed for simply existin'.”

“But that’s what I’m also trying to point out here,” he tries yet again. “That’s why I’m turning to you.”

Feeling very disturbed about the fact that they haven’t set off on a good foot, he takes a chair at her table. He makes a few false starts and rubs his face, all of which she follows with a flat look and a patience of a giant, embellished, unimpressed saint.

“You are,” he finally finds his words, “the single most powerful person in the Republic. Not because of your business or connections, but because people have twisted their convictions to accommodate to you.”

She squints her eyes, asking for more details.

“First of all, you are a woman.”

She grunts.

“And black.”

She murmurs.

“And a bitch at that.”

He features somewhat soften.

“And yet, nobody disputes the fact that you’re married to multiple men, run a successful business, and hold the balls of the Republic’s most brutal bosses,” he emphasizes, feeling a bit more hopeful as he hasn’t got slapped over the face yet.

“My point is,” he concludes, “if you accept Stede under your protection, nobody would dare touch him.”

But the woman rolls her eyes. “You been livin' underwater?” she chides. “Jackie can scare the residents shitless, but she can’t control every single freak who gets washed ashore by the tide.

Hence, the nose jar.

And he’s a centaur, Edward. Even if the king himself says that centaurs is our cousins now, nobody can guarantee that there won’t be cousin-cide.”

Edward slumps his shoulders, feeling lost.

This sounds bad. Really bad. And she’s completely correct.

If Edward can’t guarantee Stede’s safety in his own town, then... He won’t be safe anywhere out of his or some other city-fortress.

And Stede was so elated about leaving the clutches of his shit-head father. For a moment, Ed thinks about setting sail to find a deserted island somewhere for them to live on, but remembers what that would bring to Stede – more isolation.

He can’t do that to him. And if that’s the best marriage Ed has to offer, then...

He slumps against the chair rest and covers his face with his hands.

“Fuck, Jackie,” he moans. “Then, we’ll never be together. I can’t have him live a life in hiding. And no city-fort would ever let me past their gates.”

Jackie shrugs. “At least you’ll live a life.” Then she tries to offer some consolation. “If you is a sucker for centaur cock that much, the word on the street is that old Shannon got a few workers of the species.”

Now she’s telling him! Now when Edward can’t even imagine going to bed with anyone but his palomino stag.

Edward’s head falls over the table.

“I love him,” he repeats into his elbow, as that’s the only thing he can. “He’s so kind, so bright. And yet so lonely. You know, exactly like me.”

At least, the woman’s got enough compassion not to groan at the words.

Ed straightens up, not feeling better at all, and combs the hair off his face. He sighs. “I guess the best we can do is to see each other one month a year.” But his bravery is short-lived. “But, he’ll never marry me under those conditions!”

“Stop already, you’re sickening me,” Jackie finally gives in to her urges.

Admittedly, her urges involve a knife and bits of Edward’s body too, but Jackie is nothing if not forgiving towards her friends.

And fucking supportive beyond reason. The pathetic sod should build a church to her name for what she is about to agree to.

She starts leaning towards him very slowly, making his skin crawl and his hope raise its head shyly. Edward stops breathing, stops thinking, just listening for the verdict she’s about to pass. And what she says is, “Jackie can’t promise it will work...”

“Oh, Jackie, thank...”

“Shut up! Good thing there’s ten months until the Truce Moon, as this can’t be done over night. But, Edward,” she threatens him. “Don’t get your hopes up, you stupid fuck. And don’t tell a soul about you getting railed by a stallion yet...”

“Who, me? I would neve...”

“Shut the fuck up! I needs to talk to the bosses first. Call me a few favours. Then I’ll send for you.”

He opens his mouth to thank her again, feeling an outrageous urge to kiss her too, but he’s lucky she sees right through him and kills the idea with a look.

“And that Steed better be worth his name.”

Ed keeps silent, but lets his expression reply, so his grin reflects every single atom of his incredible luck.

He skips his steps on his way out of the back room, looking ecstatic, radiating with enthusiasm. Well, he knows that alone will earn him a fist right into the guts from Husband number twelve. The man’s surprisingly jealous of anyone but his own bed-mates. But you can’t blame Edward for feeling like celebrating the moment, so he blows the man a kiss too.

Right before he receives the rightful treatment, he notices that Steven’s boot is empty.

And so is the corner by the window where the two black figures used to sit.

***

It works like a charm, or at least, that’s how Edward perceives it, as the besotted idiot doesn’t know half the story. What happens in the course of the next few months is this – Jackie fulfils her promise and then some.

She calls a meeting, gathers the bosses, at tells them the news – that there’ll be a new addition to the Republic of Pirates in a form of a young stag and that anyone who does him any harm would answer to her. She then calls on old favours/makes personalized threats/runs a blade through someone’s hand, respectively.

And they’ve all reached an Understanding.

She then allows nature to take its course – the instructions get cascaded down to next in command.

Once she’s certain that at least two rings of the chain have been closed this way, her spouses come into play. The vast variety of their jobs take them all around the human territory, and with them spreads this new rule about centaurs in the Republic of Pirates.

Those who remain home, do the same, systematically re-educating the residents, according to the length of their own individual fuses, of course.

They start with the small things, reacting to jokes, hostility, innuendos and/or any of the huge number of local nicknames given to centaur folk. Some of them are more or less benevolent, like stallion and mare. Others are downright demeaning, for example: nag, zoo, burro, ass, pony, horse and cattle; four-legs, six-limbs, hooves, tails, horse-shoe and neigh; grass-eater, hay–lover, ruminator, cud, dung... The list is extensive, alright.

But the word of Spanish Jackie’s unorthodox future protégé is spread low-key at this stage, so to prevent a riot. Nothing large scale, just making sure that those who lash their tongues, start doing so by looking over their shoulders.

So the news slowly reach all the layers of Pirate society from its various ends. Naturally, people gossip, people object, people speculate, people have questions, but they know better than directing their queries to the formidable bar-owner.

Only after some weeks of this continuous activity, does Jacki decide to signal to Ed that he’s allowed to finally spill the beans. This comes with the final fair warning that there are eight more months until the next Truce Moon for him to get killed in.

“At least, it’ll be only one of us,” is what the young pirate responds with.

With this, Jackie sets the moron into the resentful, armed, perilous world.

And Edward announces his potential marriage right there in the bar, in Jackie’s presence, with her pistols and her husbands at the ready.

To say that people were shocked is as if you say that needles sting a bit when eaten. Of course, they get pretty loud, swearing at Edward lot, requiring proof and/or some juicy details. But no guns get drawn, no blades flash, no necks get snapped thanks to the fact that:

a) Most of them have working eyes, so they see the looming bar owner sending signals to her men to get closer to the ones she suspects that would act upon their shock;

b) Most of them have already heard about her new no-centaur-molesting policy; and

c) None of them need imagination in order to guess what can happen to the transgressors.

So Edward breaks the news, that goes relatively well, as he makes it out, not only unharmed, but also without a single word of hostility openly aimed towards his fiancé. A lot of dirty jokes on the expanse of his taste, his position in a relationship – and his new beard for some reason – but that all qualifies as a regular night at an inn.

Luckily, not everyone is as naive.

Making people turn a blind eye on a member of another species is one thing when well-motivated by a will to live. But Jackie knows that the news of a human openly forming a loving relationship with a stallion, now that pokes right into the blackest core of mankind.

Those who send a dark look Ed’s way, those who exchange significant glances and silently step out of the room, those whose expressions she reads as thinking about which street Edward normally uses to get back home and if it sports some dark corners – all of which the youngster is completely oblivious of – they all abruptly stop showing up in Jackie’s bar.

Or at all.

Furthermore, unbeknownst to Edward, he receives a low-key entourage. A few shadows to keep him company on his perilous outings.

As for others who might be plotting against the future newlyweds, secluded in numerous filthy watering holes around the Republic of Pirates, behind Jackie's back?

Well...

Let’s just say that this is stage three of Jackie’s plan. It’s the most massive leg of the entire operation.

She recruits her sleepers.

A formidable hoard of cutthroats of all shapes, sizes, genders, ages and walks of life. Their senses come to life and their skills get put to use.

They hunt for those who dare raise their voices, who dare gather their think-alikes around, who dare to radiate malice towards this one young man who’s fucking had the heart and balls to love another youth. They hunt for those who spread hatred towards that youth too, whose only sin is that he differs.

They also make sure that the followers find the bodies of their leaders. They make sure it’s clear what they have lost their lives over. They stay close to confirm that the message has been received, and that the micro-parties have been dispersed. Then they walk off.

So, yes, in other words, Jackie does her thing. She keeps her eye on the groom-to-be, and her wooden thumb on the fates of everyone else.

After all, Edward’s the one who introduced some twenty percent of her husbands to her, the really good ones.

***
Time goes on and the Pirate port thaws its rigid ways, so its only normal that there are those who also see benefits of such a change.

Madam Shannon finally advertises her special workers, swearing on her late husband’s grave that she’s just obtained the two mares and the stallion to cater to the latest centaur-loving fashion. Her security is fortified, owning to Spanish Jackie, of course. However, even she hasn’t predicted the reaction of the crowd.

Shannon’s establishment simply can’t house more than fifty standing visitors, but the crowd is relentless to at least stand by the entrance and raise themselves on tip toe.

The Truce Moon is the real deal, but not everyone has the guts to mingle with the members of the other species at the time, too deterred by all the dirty campaigns which flare on both sides. So, let’s say that this is a one of a kind opportunity for people to actually set their eyes on real live centaurs, and not just the unflattering drawings that can be found on the walls.

Many find the following truth – according to human standards, centaur folk are beautiful! Some of the onlookers may have conflicting feelings about the fact, but they see it nonetheless.

The girls are just stunning, with their roan and bay coats gleaming, groomed to perfection. Their hairs and tails are braided, their colourful faces embellished with fake jewels. Their breasts are full and they bounce handsomely in their practiced trots. Numerous bead necklaces cover them up though, allowing the lower sides of the soft orbs to quiver below them at each step, making men feral, hoping a string would slide off and uncover a nipple for them to gawk at as if they’ve never seen a tit on any other Shannon’s workers.

The girls smile, blow kisses and dutifully pretend they don’t recognize their regulars.

The stallion walks among them too, putting on quite a show for the stunned audience.

He’s entirely black, sans a white stripe running from his forehead and down his nose, and a single white sock which differs his left hind leg from others. He throws his black mane about, flexes his muscles which look as smooth as if coated in oils, and puts his hands on the two girls freely, making the public drool.

Shannon had high hopes for the night, but she didn’t expect that people would start throwing money at her the moment her stallion pinched one of the roan mare’s tit in his hand and sucked the nipple into his mouth.

Also, her other regular workers see their fair share of the action that night, and quite a lot of it too, as those who weren’t brave enough to exercise their newly found desire towards the “newcomer” workers find their relief with the human ones.

But the one who almost breaks the stallion is non other than that fucker, Edward Teach.

He waits for some time for the hype towards the centaurs to ease down a notch, and books the black one during the day. He pays the overinflated price gladly, hoping that the investment would pay off in the long run.

The moment he enters the room, his eyes start picking important details up, giving the centaur standing in its centre only a superficial glance.

It doesn’t stop the stag from leaning his handsome weight over one pair of his legs, letting the others rest seductively.

“Oooh,” his black eyes narrow with appreciation, “aren’t you a piece of candy? I will enjoy you.”

“Yeah, good day,” Edward comments kindly, finishes cataloguing the unusual looking furniture inside the dwelling and finally looks up at the fellow creature. “I have many questions for you.”

“Mh-m,” the stag throws his fringe onto the other side of his face, and swooshes his tail about. “Always a good way to start, little human.”

“Yeah, you see,” Edward allows his eyes to get filled with stars, which is a common occurrence these days. “I’m getting married next year...”

“Oh, you’re here for one final ride?”

“And he’s a centaur too.”

The stag closes his mouth, and gives the man before him a surprised once over. Then he gathers his bearings. “Marrying a centaur? Oh, the lucky stag,” he purrs and winks. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

“I’m here with a questionnaire,” Ed almost squeals and pulls the quill and paper out of his inner pocket. He points at the large unusually shaped matrass resting over the floor. “Have a little lie down, let me see how you use that.”

“Hmm,” the stallion walks to the thing, never talking his flirty eyes off the bicoloured human. “I didn’t take you as the one who does the ride, but I don’t mind, you pretty boy. I enjoy both.”

Yeah, his enjoyment starts showing, as it often does during Shannon’s famous mating dance shows, but Edward sees nothing but the list before himself.

Oh, that’s why the back of the matrass is uplifted, so a centaur can extend their legs before them and rest their upper back against it. They can even spread the entire length of their arms over it.

“What’s inside that matrass?” Ed starts his inquisition. “Is it cornhusk? Is that comfortable for you?”

The black stag’s confusion now gets visible, but he quickly shakes it off. “Very comfortable,” he smirks, “why don’t you joi...”

“But is that the most comfortable material for you centaurs?” Ed insists. “If you could choose, what would you have for stuffing?”

“Uhm,” the centaur blinks. “I’ve heard aristocracy use wool and feathers, but...”

“Brilliant,” Edward cheers, and jots the info down with the quill. “And do you lean on that board there when you sleep while standing up?”

The centaur eyes the thing, the thick cushioned board nailed against the wall near the bed. “Yes, but... I don’t feel sleepy right now, bearded human.”

“Cool, cool, super cool,” Ed murmurs to himself. “I’ll have that installed too. Now food. You look pretty much the same size like my stag. How much hay do you need daily for winter?”

“Alright,” the sex worker decides to put an end to this charade. “What the hell are you doing, human? You paid for a fuck, so why don’t you...”

“No, I exclusively paid for some time with you,” Ed emphasizes with the quill in the air. “Shannon says people often say that these days, but here’s the deal again.”

He takes a deep breath and repeats his query. “I’m marrying a stag soon, I hope. He’s like the most gorgeous palomino you’ve ever seen,” he can’t but digress, as he normally does. “And I want to redecorate my home so that it provides the most comfort for a centaur. I have a list of ideas and questions, but you can freely add anything that I’ve missed. So, here it goes again...”

And a river of questions start flowing over the stunned black sex worker, covering topics from hoof care to salt intake.

That’s how Edward’s deserved his banishment from Shannon’s whorehouse.

Two security guards had to drag him out of the premises, and six more had to contain the stallion as he kept throwing himself at the man, begging the pirate to marry him instead of the other stag, shouting a long list of never-before-heard-of sex acts he’s trained in.

And that was all before Edward had an opportunity to ask about details of centaur anal sex, so he’s very vexed about not covering that first.

Anyway, things go as well as they can and Edward starts getting his cottage at the outskirts prepared for Stede, readjusting, refurnishing, demolishing and reassembling. Then demolishing and reassembling again.

He does accept a few sailing jobs along the way, intent on using any opportunity that takes him to different ports to find a proper wedding jewel for his spouse-to-be. He’s already obtained an earring for himself, but he can’t be sure the stag would feel comfortable about having his own ear pierced.

But his search falls short of a piece impressive enough to put a smile on imagined Stede’s face. He tries to snuff his frustration out by getting other things ready, whilst still keeping an eye out for something worthy of the palomino.

Three months before the Truce Moon he feels so optimistic about the future ahead. He’s more than certain that he’ll find Stede on that clearing, waiting for him eagerly, ready to take Ed’s hand in marriage. He feels like celebrating all day long, so he invites some friends over to gobble down on the less expensive portions of his larder. That month also sees him do the unthinkable – treating his herb buyers with extra branches, as life is simply that good.

Two months before the Moon he gets so bloody horny. Hardly a day passes by that he doesn’t stuff his hands into his trousers at the first thought of the marital bliss ahead. How is he to resist when all these fantastic novel poses Stede can bend him into just flash before his eyes? Some of them may be far-fetched, but ha! They’ll have all the time in the world to see if theory translates well into practice. Until that moment comes, Ed is intent on using up all the oil he owns, pumping his fingers up his arse, sweating and grunting in his bed, thinking of that long, wet cock which he will never need to lube additionally.

Yeah, that was a good month. The next one... Not so much.

He wakes up that morning with a horrible thought which refuses the stop haunting him.

What if Stede has changed his mind? What if he really had a good hard talk with himself and concluded that Ed was just a passing fancy, someone you do not do matrimony with.

The notion sinks so heavily into Edward’s stomach that it has him gasping for air. What if Stede has met another guy? He’s popped his cherry, had a little fun and then his eyes got attracted by the beauty of another member of his herd.

A stallion, looking much like the sex worker Ed’s met, with strong flanks and a sturdy back, in a word, built for stag-to-stag mating. It’s someone who Stede can slot against well, someone who Stede can distribute his weight over comfortably, someone who can take Stede’s entire black-and-pink cock without breaking a sweat.

Someone who can give Stede everything Edward will never be able to.

The thought makes Ed regret every single lunch he’s ever had, that’s how realistic it feels. He can already see himself, standing there on the Final Hill, and standing some more. He may even give a few more days for Stede to appear from his herd’s city-fortress, just in case.

But Stede won’t be coming.

Stede may have already made that decision.

The heartbroken pirate starts piling cheaper bottles of wine by the entrance, so he can start drowning his disillusioned self the moment he comes back home from the vacant hill.

Feeling shattered, he drags his feet through the Republic of Pirates, completing this or that job without joy, carrying this wound in his chest, bleeding his youth away. The locals, confused by the sudden shift in mood, tease him over it of course, but that never even reaches his ears. He just continues to fill his larder with grains and dried goods he knows he’ll toss into the sea in a few weeks.

As the date is approaching rapidly, wringing nothing but anguish out of him, making him feel as if he’s sliding downhill towards a cliff.

That’s until he, one time, opens his eyes in the course of the night and realises he’s fallen asleep in what used to be Steven’s story-telling booth.

Alright, this won’t do, he tells himself as he limps out of the bar, trying not to trip over other drunkards snoring in whatever position they’ve found themselves in. This just won’t do.

The day is getting born before his very eyes, casting its broken shine over the rooftops. The ocean breeze washes over him, bringing the smell of sand, salt and voyage.

The smell of adventure.

Well then, it’s high time Edward remembers who he truly is. Yes, he’s a romantic. Yes, he’s arse over tits in love. But he’s also a pirate, and pirates don’t wallow in their own dirt, at least not for too long.

No, pirates face the world and then they take whatever they wish to.

Edward will win Stede back! Edward will find the most big-ass precious stone out there and prove his worth to the young stag. And if Ed doesn’t find him at the meeting point, hell! He’ll walk right into the fortified city and show him the proof of his devotion.

But, where to look? Where to find a jewel he’s been unsuccessful at tracking for the past year? Where hasn’t he looked? He needs a place where there’s a large congregation of merchants he hasn’t visited yet, but the one which won’t take him to the edge of the world and make him miss his date.

A place near the border of Stede’s kingdom and packed full of goods?

The Gate! Of course!

Throughout the year it’s a sleepy town by the border, but when the Truce Moon starts getting near, carts crammed with merchandise flock in it. A black market paradise, waiting for the first day of the Truce Moon to open the entrance of the centaur land, so some rare, expensive and illegal treats of the human world can find their way into centaur hands.

The meeting day is in a week. He needs to set off now so that he can reach the place, have a few days for “purchase” and still have time to reach the Final Hill.

So Edward runs home, still a bit stiff, still a bit tipsy, but incomparably richer than Edward from two minutes ago.

As this Edward has a plan!