Author's Note: A contribution from a ghost writer who had requested to stay anonymous. A fellow fanfic author, an unexpected friend, and the best Biology lecturer in the universe. Hint hint: current gene tech makes it completely possible for us to make bioluminescent hair. Isn't that great? But I digress. Enjoy.
He's definitely *not* as I expected…
I expected someone a little more… sinister…
A monster of sorts – dark heart, wicked mind, damned soul . . . quick of hand and quicker of tongue to devastate and decimate . . . ah, and an evil leer! Every bandit, thug and villain must have an evil leer!
This one…? He must've failed the Evilness Course, or else not have received an Evilness Manual, or something in-between... he looked too clean to have done very much Evilness, and entirely unscathed – hmm, a green apprentice perhaps, haven't yet started Evilness 101? His movements too predictable – like a street urchin having perfected the art of stealing bread, not princess crowns. And he smiled overly much!
Or was that because of her?
Oh…
*Oh*.
I was once like that: orphaned youngling growing into surly rebel maturing into lost youth surrounded by the wrong company… But the Captain soon put me straight – indeed he did, with firm attention but genuine affection (mixed in with lots of half-carrots and sugar cubes); I grew out of my ways and earned his respect, what with my dashing good looks and handsome features, my stout legs and strong legs and—
—where was I again . . .?
\\o/
She's doing it again – her eyes shine brighter than the sun gleaming in the sky. Emerald scales sitting on the horn of my saddle grins and nods with approval. She swirls and beckons him to dance. He waves dismissal…
Ooh, a delicious idea . . .
A jut of the rump and he's glaring at me, being whisked away by that slip of a girl whose strength, somehow, none can compare; I neigh with delight – he'd get over it soon enough… How do I know this? Because . . because . . . hmm . . .
Because, somewhere between having his boot in my mouth and spitting his wanted poster back onto his face, a strange fondness has crept over me. Because, of all the things I could hate him for, the one thing I cannot deny is that he has a heart of gold. Because, under the mask he insists he wears – maybe, just maybe, he's just like me . . .
He needs a Captain in his life.
Wait – I can do that, can't I?
After all, he so needs me right now … he's a little lost in life, needing a push in the right direction – and if that push sends him into the path of all things good (or just into Golden Girl's arms), then good on me (Matchmaker Maximus, ahah)! A nip here, a nudge there, a hoof in the gut every now and then to seal the bargain . . .
. . . I'd think I'd call him Minimus.
\\o/
He's talking to me. As in, really talking to me . . .
. . . do I detect a hint of apology in his endless babble of graciousness…?
He doesn't have to, you know… I would've come anyway… After all, as insane as it sounds, I chose this one to be my burden…
As the saying goes: he's not heavy… he's my brother…