Stag Hunt

by The Comte of Saint-Nicholas

Ella and Kit had made it practice not to hunt for sport in their court. Unfortunately, they could not force such scruples on their guests, and diplomatic procedure was against them on this. It was what was done. There was no escaping it. But when has that ever stopped Ella? One-shot set after the 2015 movie.

Just a little might-have-been set in the future of the 2015 live-action Cinderella. Canon compliant. A word of warning – I wrote this without any knowledge at all of the specifics of hunting, particularly period hunting, so if the quality or plot suffers as a result I apologise. Make sure to review!

-The Comte

The party was the Ambassador's delegation from Elantia. They were in the kingdom on business, and as such to be accorded every proper courtesy by the King and his court. There was decorum, and correct practice, and traditions to be held and upheld. Such things could not be avoided.

Ella and Kit had made it practice not to hunt for sport in their court. Unfortunately, they could not force such scruples on their guests – doing so would break diplomatic form, and lead to the leaders of half a dozen countries cold-shouldering them at official ceremonies for years to come.

It was what was done. There was no escaping it.

But that didn't mean it was what should be done…

Kit, or His Most Excellent Royal Highness the King when visitors were in the room, led the party out of the palace into the fine spring morning. There were a dozen-odd various ambassadors, diplomats, and dignitaries, supported by the (generally ceremonial) Palace Huntsmen, hounds straining at the leash and barking madly. The men talked loudly and laughed raucously. Kit hung back, overseeing preparations with a small smile on his face. Queen Ella saw them off at the gate, waving elegantly to Kit in a stunning periwinkle gown. She had a lot of dresses, as Queen, but the blue ones were always her favourite. Kit gave her a small wink as he waved back.

As the procession left for the woods, moving at a gentle trot, the Elantian Ambassador grinned broadly at Kit. 'Perhaps you should have brought the little lady along, your Majesty,' he joked. 'Such a charming thing, I'm sure she would have put us all to shame.'

Kit laughed along with him. 'The Queen has never had much of a head for hunting, I'm afraid. She can ride like the very devil, but give her a spear and she turns a little green.'

'Well, that's as it should be. Let the men do the bloody work. She can admire the beast when it's been killed and cleaned and made presentable, eh?

'Quite so, Ambassador.'

The Elantian dragged in a great lungful of air. 'Ahh… Now that's something. I'll give your little fiefdom this, your Majesty, the air's clean like nothing I've ever smelled before.' He threw back his head and spurred his mount to a canter, the train moving neatly to keep pace with him. 'This is what man was made for! Fresh air, the open sky, and a good honest test of skill between him and the lord of the woodland. What have you got for us today, then, your Majesty?'

'A full-grown stag,' replied Kit, sitting easily on his speeding mount. 'Big fellow – twelve, fourteen points, we guess. We've been keeping track of this one for months.'

The Ambassador's eyes lit up. 'You spoil us, your Majesty, you really do. I haven't killed a fourteen-pointer in years.'

Kit smiled slightly again. 'I promise you, you will not be disappointed.'

They caught up with the stag a little after midday, after a leisurely ride to the woods. The group had all admired the beauty of the countryside in spring, and now it was time to get down to business. Long rifles were handed out, and spears – not the full length ones used for boar, but serious weapons nevertheless. All talk was muffled, and there was an air of expectation.

Kit himself had taken one of the rifles, as was his royal prerogative, but the Ambassador had rejected the one offered to him, choosing a spear instead. 'No fun in it otherwise,' he commented. 'You sit ten or twenty feet away and blow the poor beast's head off. Where's the sport in that? Where's the adrenaline?'

Kit nodded. He would not be participating much in the hunt itself anyways. It was good form to let your guest bag the deer, to have something to take back with them to their own countries. His job was just to play host throughout the trip.

The men were silent as they surrounded the thicket the deer was in. It really was a beauty, Kit thought. You could see its antlers from here. Riding lightly over to the Ambassador, who was at the front of the party, he leaned in to the other man.

'I'll put the hounds and huntsmen under your lead for this, if you don't mind. This is your party.'

The Ambassador grinned. Large, thickset and red-blooded, he was the kind of man who had always dreamed of leading a stag hunt himself. Most monarchs kept command throughout, wanting their share of the glory of the kill. Then again, he noted, the King was not an ordinary monarch. He kept smiling to himself like he had a private joke, and it occurred to the Elantian to wonder if there was an ulterior motive for this exquisite treatment. He glanced at the waiting hounds, the men in bright uniforms looking to him and the King. Sighing deeply, he banished his doubts.

'I'll probably pay for this at the negotiating table, but your Majesty is very kind. I would be honoured to lead your hunt.'

Besides, he thought as he whistled and the men leapt to readiness, it would have been bad manners to refuse.

The hounds were loosed first. Baying loudly, they sprang into the thicket like bolts of dun lightning. There was a flurry of activity obscured by the bushes, and then stag burst into the open.

'Bring it around!' bellowed the Ambassador. 'Lead it to the thinner trees!'

The stag gave a mighty leap, shaking its great head, and ran from the hunters like an arrow from a bow. Joyously, the party gave chase, spurring their horses on to full gallop and plunging through the thick undergrowth to where the trees grew sparser. Calls and whoops rang out tumultuously, and the King himself winded a small, gilt horn at his side. The long note rang through the air, a clarion call to arms.

The stag was fast, but the dogs were on his heels constantly, barking and biting and trying to bring the animal down. In more open country, the horses easily kept in sight of their quarry, and the Ambassador let out a booming laugh, setting spurs to his horse to gain even more ground against the beleaguered animal. He brought the long, sharp spear to bear and reined in his horse a little, drawing the weapon back. The stag turned to face him, lowering its antlers and pawing the ground, throwing off the dogs that harried it.

And then there was a thundering of hoof-beats that rose, pounding, above the noise of the hunt; the Ambassador heard a cry of shock from the huntsmen behind him and had just enough time to realise that these hoofs were coming from a different direction to the hunters before a figure on horseback burst into his vision from the stand of trees to the side. The figure was on a slim grey, leaning low over the neck of their charging animal. Long, blonde hair braided messily hung out behind them as they moved to intercept the hunters at breakneck speed. The Ambassador sat, frozen in shock, and the figure moved neatly between him and the equally still stag.

Quarry recovered first, and the stag turned and sprang away from the hunters. Jolted into action, the Ambassador booted his stallion forwards, calling the dogs around him, preparing to send them after the stag again. Someone else got there first.

'Silver! Bacchus! Echo! Merriman! To me!'

The figure called out to the dogs in a voice that was decidedly higher than any man's, and let out a piercing whistle to accentuate her command. To the Elantian's shock, the hounds responded, breaking off their pursuit and loping tirelessly after the figure – the girl, he was sure now it was a girl – who had already turned and was galloping back towards the forest, leading the whole pack of hunting hounds with her.

Cursing, the emissary kept pursuit of the stag himself. He plunged after the animal at terrific speed, leaving the rest of the envoy behind: hunters and diplomats alike gaping like peasants at the sudden turn of events. He heard hoofs behind him and glanced back to see the King hastening to catch up, sitting as easily upon his speeding mount as on his own throne. He nodded to the Ambassador as he drew level.

'Steady. We'll finish yet.'

'Does this happen to you often?' called the Ambassador over the deafening thud of hoofs and rattle of tack and harness. The King grinned, but his reply was lost in the din of motion. He gestured ahead and the Ambassador turned back to face forwards as the pair of riders settled into the chase.

They brought the stag to bay in a small copse near the edge of the forest proper. Both men had drained their mounts to get there – they knew that if the creature entered the woods, the trees would be too thick to follow it and they couldn't draw it out without the dogs. The stag, seeing itself cut off from the safety of the trees, turned and sped back towards open country. The Ambassador was grinning again as he hauled on the reins, turning to pursue it. He drew back his spear to chance a blow at the stag as it passed him, but as he readied the weapon, a sharp crack echoed behind him and he hesitated, glancing around, in the vital moment. The stag leaped past him and he saw the King still aiming his smoking rifle at the rapidly distant animal.

'Missed,' he said, disgusted, and the Ambassador spun his mount and gave chase again.

'Your aim is too high, your Majesty' he said as he left. The King, chuckling, followed.

King and Ambassador thundered after the stag, pushing their mounts for one last lap. However, as they did, they heard once again the noise of hoof-beats to the side, and the girl on the grey plunged again out of the forest to their left. Speeding on an interception course, she rode on low on her horse, twining her fingers in its mane. With a shock, the Ambassador realised she was riding bareback – no saddle, reins, bridle or bit. Just her and the horse, pounding across the grass at a speed that would put a diving falcon to shame.

As the two hunters neared the stag, so too did the mysterious girl. The animal was slowing – its eyes were wide and its flanks streaked with blood from the hounds. Urging every last bit of speed from his mount, the Ambassador closed the gap further. For the third time, he raised the spear and aimed, judging distance and velocity.

Then the girl, the mysterious, confounded, brilliant horseman of a girl, shot in front of him, cutting off his chance. The spear, already thrust forward in motion, jabbed violently at her as she appeared between hunters and hunted, but in the press of movement it was impossible to tell if it made contact. The Ambassador heard the King gasp behind him, and a noise as of a sudden movement.

He reined desperately to avoid a collision with the girl, face red and swearing apoplectically. He tried to turn his horse back towards the stag, but every move he made, she was there, cutting him off, harrying him and forcing him to swerve desperately to avoid crashing into her and unseating them both. The grey was smaller and more agile than his towering stallion, and it ran rings around him and his mount. He watched furiously as the deer slowly got further away, unable to do anything. The mysterious girl on the grey horse was herding him away from his prey as neatly as dogs on a stag.

Finally the girl reined away, turning and shooting after the escaping stag. It paused, unafraid, when she came close, and she leaned in and whispered something to it. Shaking its towering antlers, the stag, the magnificent, fourteen-point stag turned and bounded away into the forest. All three humans watched it go. The girl turned and sat straight up on her horse, looking at the King and the Ambassador, sitting dumbfounded on their gasping mounts. For the first time, the Ambassador saw her properly. She was wearing a plain and faded blue dress, with evidence of much wear on it. Her blonde hair, now she had stopped moving, had fallen back down in a ragged and wind-torn braiding. She was thin and plain-looking, dirty and smudged and pink-faced from the slipstream of her own passing, but something about her and her posture radiated assurance.

And she was laughing. Eyes full of mirth, sitting up there on her horse and watching the two hunters and laughing. The wind was just strong enough to carry the sound to the Ambassador and the King. Then, with a deft flick of her hands, she spun her horse and, like the stag, vanished into the woodlands.

The Ambassador seized the reins and prepared to boot his stallion into movement. 'We'll catch 'em yet,' he snarled. 'One or the other, girl or stag. I don't much care which at this point.'

The King reached over and gently pulled his hands from the reins. 'My horse is winded, your Grace,' he said in a measured tone. 'I will not ride him to exhaustion to sate my pride. Go if you will. I will send the huntsmen after you.'

The Ambassador paused, and then deflated slightly. 'My horse as well,' he said in a defeated tone. 'I suppose we will simply have to carry our shame back with us and hang that on the wall.'

'Be assured, Ambassador,' replied the Kit as he turned his horse and began slowly walking it back to where a cloud of dust showed the rest of the hunt trying to catch up. 'Ours is a small kingdom. We will find this mystery horsewoman who takes it upon herself to protect my own deer from me and my hunt.'

'I will take some little comfort in that,' grumbled the Elantian, 'Even if I am not there to see it.'

'If your Grace wishes, there are other places we could try our luck. She cannot be everywhere.'

'The Ambassador sighed loudly. 'No… no. I have tried my hand and come out the lesser. I will concede and retreat to the palace.'

Kit, riding slightly ahead of the Ambassador, grinned broadly again.

It was a tired, dusty and forlorn party that returned to the palace later that afternoon. Bar the King himself, that is. He had been smiling all the way home, and when asked about his good spirits, replied: 'I am constantly reminded and in awe of the strength of the people in this land. We have just witnessed an act of extraordinary conviction, and I thank my stars each day that I have been chosen to lead a place that has such folk in it – noble or common.'

'What strange new world, that has such people in 't,' muttered the Ambassador to himself in reply.

The trotted through the gates and were met by the Queen on the palace steps – her golden hair immaculate, her steps small and poised and dressed in a magnificent periwinkle blue. Kit dropped from his horse and ran up the steps to her, regardless of protocol, and the two embraced obliviously, heedless of the entire party and attendant servants watching. The Ambassador was a little slower dismounting, his stiff joints reminding him that it wasn't only his horse that was worn by the day of hard riding. He bowed, a little more gracelessly than normal, to the Queen.

'My Lords,' said Ella as she and Kit separated. 'I was not expecting you back so soon. I see I underestimated your prowess.'

'Overestimated I'm afraid, your Majesty,' answered the Ambassador dispiritedly. 'The deuced thing got away – if you'll pardon the phrase.'

'Got away?' asked Ella, the picture of polite perplexity. 'How did that happen, your Grace?'

'Some blasted forest girl on a fancy horse nearly ran me off my charger. Pity too. It was a real beauty, a fourteen-pointer, and you don't get many of those any more these days. She ran off with the hounds as well, we've no idea what happened to them.'

'The dogs are safe in their kennels, they made it home themselves,' responded the Queen sympathetically. 'But that's terrible! Kit, don't you have any control over those rascals you call your subjects?'

'I try, my love, I try,' Kit replied with a sigh. 'But country girls can be so thick-headed when they get an idea. Even if it's dangerous,' he added sternly.

'Well' said Ella, 'I suppose what's done is done. Would your Grace like to come inside? I've had some refreshment laid out in the Green Parlour.'

'You are too kind, as always.' The dignitary followed the royal couple up the main steps to the doors of the palace. 'And may I say how simply radiant you are looking today.'

The Queen dimpled. 'Careful, your Grace, you'll make my husband jealous,' she said, laughing.

'And how did your Majesty spend her morning, then?'

'Oh, nothing that would interest your Grace, I'm sure,' replied the Queen easily, taking his hand and leading him through into the entrance hall while Kit followed and watched with a smile. 'I leave the action to you men. If you'll follow me…'

The Ambassador excused himself soon enough, going to his rooms to change and refresh himself. As soon as he was gone and the servants dismissed, Kit abandoned the proper distance between man and wife in public and turned, leaning in close to Ella and taking her hand.

'Are you all right?' he asked, concerned.

She laughed. 'Of course, Kit. Though I have to say, you were earlier than I expected. I'd only just finished changing again. Any sooner and I'd have to have pretended I'd got a touch of the sun.'

Kit sighed, looking at her hand. He still looked worried. 'A spear, Ella. A spear. It was so close to you I thought I was going to scream.'

Ella put her other hand on his and he looked up to meet her eyes. 'I'm fine' she said quietly, and the tensions visibly drained out of him.

'It didn't touch you?' His blue eyes, those beautiful sky blue eyes that she could still get lost in if she met his gaze without expecting it, were wide and dark. He got like this sometimes when he was worried about her. Sometimes Ella could still see the boy who lost his father and his love within a matter of weeks. There was a touch of vulnerability underneath all the layers of charisma and good looks and royal confidence that no one but Ella ever saw.

'Not a scratch,' she answered softly.

He let out a deep, shuddering breath and Ella held him close, his head on her shoulder. She stayed like that for a few minutes, feeling his heartbeat against her side, and gradually Kit calmed down.

'I know I can't change you,' he said as they separated and he held her at arm's length. 'And I don't want to. But please, please be a bit more careful. If anything happened to you, I… I don't know what I'd - '

He broke off. He didn't need to finish. Ella already knew everything he was going to say, and it warmed her heart beneath the soothing and comforting that she was still the only person in the kingdom (or indeed, possibly the world) who could reduce her Kit to stammering.

'Yes, my love,' she replied gently. 'I know.'

She did know. She knew what it would be like for her to lose Kit, to lose the person who'd raised her up from the years of silent suffering and toil. To lose the person who'd met her as a country girl, as a princess, and then as a country girl again, and hadn't given a damn either way. To lose the person who still looked at her sometimes and said 'You're beautiful,' clear out of the blue, like it was a revelation or some message of great worth.

Sometimes at night Ella had moments of panic where she thought that this must all be a wonderful dream, and then the only thing that kept her from weeping aloud was the warmth and solidness of Kit sleeping next to her. He was her lifeline, as much as she was his.

She realised that the conversation had died, and they'd been sitting in silence for several minutes, staring at each other. She shifted a little to get more comfortable, and the spell was broken. Kit stood and stretched.

'It's not just for the animals, you know,' said Ella as they began to move around, preparing to go back into the bustle and activity of the rest of the palace. 'I love you Kit, love you to death, but life here can get so… constricting after a few months at a time. An afternoon going back to just 'Ella', rather than 'Her Royal Highness Queen Ella,' is all I need to keep my sanity in one piece.'

Kit turned to look at her. 'I love you too, Ella. And that is why I will continue to aid and abet you sneaking out of the palace to go rescue hunted stags, even if it goes against my better judgement at some times. Besides,' he grinned 'It's how we met. And anything that reminds me of that, or of how lucky I am as a husband, is welcome with me.'

Their lips touched, just briefly, and they stepped together out into the brightness of the rest of the palace. Inside the palace, the candles were being lit, and there was a constant low hubbub like the drone of a beehive. Outside, the sun was just beginning to dip, and the shadows of great antlers hung imposingly in the darkening forest.