As I mentioned a while ago, I'm rewriting everything. Yeah, I know you all must hate me. I kinda hate me too. But, hopefully this makes up for it a little, because it's a lot better than it used to be.
I don't own DP, in case you didn't already know.
He was a beautiful creature. Neon green eyes, pale, grayish, milky skin, messy white hair tied back into a tiny ponytail and held out of his face by a black headband. His bare chest and arms were slim, but well muscled; almost seeming to have been carved from some strange, nearly translucent stone...
His horse half was a beauty, too. His hide was stormy gray, shading to black and finely dappled with silver. As strange as his colors were, he was without a doubt a handsome creature: seeming almost to hold an almost ethereal white glow. However, his beauty was currently marred by his flabbergasted expression.
He looked from the slaver to the chained girl who both stood before him. "What?"
The slaver bowed and scraped, simpering in his nasal voice, "Ph-er, Master Phantom, I was given orders to bring you this girl!"
Phantom surveyed the girl. She was very pretty, under the dirt. Her hair was matted and unwashed, but obviously a lovely shade of raven-black. Her skin, from what he could see, was pale; rosy-ivory, maybe? Not like much of it was covered by her tattered dress...
Her eyes met his defiantly, and he noted with shock that they were an utterly unique shade of violet.
"...Be that as it may, it does not mean I'm required to take her. I don't need a slave, and I wouldn't want one if I did!"
"B-b-but Master Phantom!" The slaver searched his mind for a response that would get the stubborn centaur to accept the girl. He was a dead man if he didn't. Masters had given him orders, and they were absolute!
So, desperately, he played his last card. "T-this is her last chance!" 'I've got you now.'
That struck an obvious chord, and Phantom paled. "... What?"
"She has been... problematic. If she is not taken here, her next stop is Death's Door."
Phantom schooled his features, and showed no expression for a moment. His fists clenched at his sides, and his chin fell; snowy hair obscured his face for a moment. Then his lip curled in a snarl, and he lapsed into angry Centaurian as he mumbled under his breath.
The slaver whimpered in terror, falling to his knees with his hands clasped above him, praying for mercy. 'He's insane! He's going to kill me over a slave? Someone save meeeee!'
The air in the tent grew cold, and an eerie wind picked up around Phantom. He looked up, just a little, as the wind whipped his hair angrily. His eyes glowed poisonous green as he glowered at the far wall, not sparing a glance to the humans. If you asked either of those two humans; who witnessed his anger, even when it was not directed at themselves, they'd probably tell you it was the most menacing thing they'd ever seen.
The slave girl winced away, trying in vain to keep her tattered dress modest with her wrists cuffed together. There was fear in her expression, but also defiance.
Out of the corner of his eye, Phantom noticed it. The wind died as suddenly as it had come, and Phantom stood still, appraising the girl silently. A moment later, the anger was back, but it was directed elsewhere.
"Mas-taARS!" He bellowed, wheeling around and leaving the tent at a gallop. A terrified slave trader quaked, curling into an undignified ball as he whimpered. A shocked, somewhat-less-frightened slave girl blinked. What was that all about...?
Humans and centaurs alike scatted from his path as Phantom thundered across the camp with a stormy expression. The respect given him was obvious.
Yet, as Phantom reached the tent of Herd Master Plasmius - better known as Head Stallion Masters - he let the change take him. A muted flash of silver-white energy enveloped his body and shrunk from centaur sized to boy sized.
The energy blinked out as fast as it had come, leaving a raven-haired boy of fair complexion where the centaur hadbeen. His human for was dressed in a common manner: non-descript gray tunic, darker gray breeches, and a brown headband.
Danny - who had, moments ago, been Phantom - hadn't trusted himself with the strength attributed to his centaur form: people were more likely to be able to stop him this way if he got violent. He took a deep breath to try and calm the burning rage he held towards Masters - not all of it caused by the slaver in his tent this morning.
Not giving himself time to think it over, Danny brushed past the tent flap and entered the domain of dearold uncle Plasmius.
"Ah, Daniel. I wasn't expecting a visit. To what do I owe the honor?"
The mocking, oily voice from the corner drew Danny's attention to a centaur: whose coloration was stranger than Phantom's. His human skin was blue, and his eyes the color of freshly spilt blood. His black hair stood up in a way uncomfortably reminiscent of horns, a white path making its way from the man's Widow's peak, trailing thinly down his spine. Barely visible fangs protruded from below his currently half-curled upper lip.
His horse half was almost as bad. White dominated the majority, but his stockings were black, and the insides of his legs the same shade of red as his eyes.
He and Phantom were the only two centaurs in the herd with such strange coloration: though they had a very good excuse for it. The same magic which had deprived the herd of it's previous leader, Jack Fenton - and the rest of Phantom's family: mother, Maddie and older sister, Jazz – had produced a backlash that caught Plasmius and Phantom: who had been far enough away not to be caught in the worst of the devastating spell. The two had been entirely normal until that point. The wave of magic had hit Danny - who had been practically a baby in human years - first, and left a much more pronounced affect.
The spell had been intended to trap them in human forms from what he could tell: but had instead divided their nature. They lost their original centaur forms, which were pushed into humanity, as expected. But the push had left them with centaur selves still: distorted ghosts of their former selves.
Unfortunately, since the blast had reacted differently for each, Masters was just as comfortable in his centaur form - after much practice - and could even use a strong spell to appear in both forms at once. The spell had given him power, even though his centaur appearance was now an oddity.
Maybe because Danny had taken the brunt of the blast, the magic he found himself with - though probably even stronger than Masters' - was so unstable that he still was yet unable to get control over it.
Another downer - this one definitely a fault of the blast - he couldn't remain in centaur form for long periods of time: Another reason he had changed before facing Vlad.
Vlad had been his name before the accident. Afterwards, he changed his name; he couldn't go around in both worlds being called Vlad. Someone would get suspicious, and he couldn't have that.
Nobody even remembered that their heir apparent used to be Danny: a pink-cheeked black colt with blue eyes. Probably because of Vlad. The duality of their identities were known only to themselves, with the exception of Phantom's friends in the Ghost Herd.
Because of Danny's young age at the time of his family's disappearance, Vlad had taken over the Amity Herd in Phantom's stead.
That was why nobody would have stopped him if he had tried to harm Plasmius. They couldn't interfere for fear of Phantom's wrath later, not to mention rules dictated that it was his right as the "prince" of the herd.
"You set it up so I couldn't refuse."
If anything was just in the world, the piercing glare directed by Danny's sky-blue eyes should have burned holes in Masters' sarcastic grin, then burned the snarky bastard alive. As it were, Danny's eyes flashed neon green and he was tempted - so, very tempted - to change forms and throttle Masters for the pompous smile curling across his face.
Masters put his book down, and stood up from where he had lain reading. Letting a flash of black engulf him, he changed to Vlad: king of the slave trade. His long white hair was pulled back into a long ponytail, ending just past his shoulders.
Vlad was dressed immaculately, and would have seemed a perfect gentleman except for two things. His eyes, for one, were stark cobalt. Nothing wrong with this, until these eyes turned on you. They held no compassion; no mercy. From his very eyes you could tell this man was ruthless.
The second thing: his bearing. It didn't help remedy the impression. He held himself tall, all the better to stare balefully down his long nose at you. His lips, even when smiling, held a sneer waiting to surface.
"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about Daniel."
Danny growled, hands curling again into fists, pressing so hard his nails bit into his skin and drew blood.
"The girl. The one standing in my room in chains, half NAKED, the only solid article of clothing on her the manacles rubbing her wrists raw! The one that will be sentenced to death if I don't keep her!"
Vlad waved the accusation away airily. "Oh, that. Calm yourself. Chains can be removed, and clothes provided. Think nothing of it."
"You know as well as I do that I don't need a SLAVE! I don't condone slavery, and Lord knows less than half my time is actually spent as Phantom!"
Vlad's smirk widened fractionally.
Comprehension dawned in Danny's eyes. "I knew you were an ass, Vlad, but that's low, even for you! All you care about is keeping the power you stole from my father! "
Vlad's expression slipped for a moment, but Danny had been too slow to catch whatever emotion had marred the cool facade, before it smoothed out into icy calm. "And I'm not pretending otherwise boy. I like power. I don't care about anything else, and I haven't since your mother disappeared. Your father and I competed for her, and I should have won. It's really not fair. Because of him, she's gone now, as is your charming older sister."
Danny's blood boiled, and without another word he all but threw himself from the tent. Right now, he couldn't trust himself not to throw himself at Vlad and beat him to a pulp. He called on the transformation as soon as he was sure that no prying eyes could see. One of these days, he was going to get rid of the vile man.
But first... Phantom had to attend to the matter of his new - entirely unwanted - slave.
He retraced his route more slowly, mentally preparing himself. He couldn't help the sigh that escaped him. This situation was going to end terribly. He just new it.
Slaves and masters once again stepped out of his path, a few daring to send questioning looks between their 'prince' and the Herd Master's tent. No doubt they were curious about the yells that he had sent echoing around the camp... but he couldn't care less, right now.
He plastered on a glare - not particularly difficult, considering his current mood - and their curiosity was suddenly directed at the ground.
It didn't make him feel any better, but at least he wasn't being watched anymore. Too many eyes made secrets difficult to keep.
Phantom brooded on that as he cantered back towards his own tent.
Once again looking around, he changed. Danny prepared himself, an entered the tent.
The slaver jumped to his feet immediately, thinking "Lord Phantom" had returned. The expression on his face was comical when he found himself being stared down upon by a boy: who was obviously not "Lord Phantom", and - just as obviously - not a slave. The slaver was mortified at being caught off guard, and so tried to assert himself by pulling rank.
"And who might you be boy? I'll have you know I'm doing very important business with Master Phantom, and I have no time for you. Begone!"
Danny smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, I know. Phantom sent me to tell you that you are no longer needed. You have been paid by Masters; you have no call to ask for more, so it would be wise for you to remove yourself before he returns."
"Now see here, you pompous little-" the rotund little man tried to interrupt, but Danny continued as if he hadn't heard.
"And as much as I'm sure Phantom would have liked to chase you off personally, he couldn't trust himself not to tear your head from your fat little body." Danny emphasized the words, enjoying his little revenge.
The slaver blanched. The girl seemed to have something to say, but no words would leave her mouth. Danny's eyes were drawn to her as she struggled pointedly against an invisible gag. His eyes narrowed dangerously as they turned on the tiny man, who was oblivious to the danger.
"YOU PUT A SILENCING SPELL ON HER?"
The slaver cringed. "N-not personally..." The boy's glare darkened, and he took menacing step forward. The fat man rushed to explain, in the hopes that the scary youth might be appeased. "Y-you see... her mouth has a way of g-getting her in trouble, sir-"
"GET. OUT." There was no mistaking the authority in his voice, but the slaver was either incredibly stupid or entirely oblivious.
He tried one last time.
"B-but I-"
"I would HIGHLY suggest that you remove yourself from my sights. NOW." The frightened slave trader was shaking as he beat a hasty retreat from the tent.
Danny looked at the girl, who was now - through no choice of his own - his (or rather, Phantom's) slave. He had realized before he left that she was wearing VERY little clothing, and what little was there was in very bad shape. This discovery reasserted itself forcefully, and his face began turning an interesting color as he jerked his eyes away. He fled from the tent, leaving her alone with Phantom's belongings and magic supplies - though she didn't know that's what they were.
He breathed heavily for a moment, trying not to panic any more than he already was. Biting his lip, he slipped back under the flap. He brushed past her, eyes carefully pointed elsewhere as he made his way to his clothes, hanging in a jumble next to the messy nest he called a bed. He selected a worn brown cloak - mindful of her shackled hands - and draped it over her shoulders. It was no substitute for clothes, but it would preserve her (and his) modesty for now.
She clutched the cloak gratefully, with an almost impatiently hopeful gesture at her bindings.
"Right," Danny acknowledged. He turned to the table behind him, which was covered in bottles and vials. "Uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"Hang on a sec," he said, waving a finger in her direction, and left the tent for the second time.
He changed again, and returned to the tent as Phantom. She flinched away from him as he stepped forward. With an impatient huff, he gestured for her to come forward.
"I don't bite," Phantom assured snippily, earning himself a glare. It did the trick, however, and her nerves subsided somewhat.
"Hands," he instructed. She placed her shackled wrists into his hand, watching him warily.
He held her hands still as he gently brushed his fingers against the shackles. They opened smoothly, and fell to the floor without fuss. She pulled her hands away, stepping back to avoid the metal as it clanked to the floor. Rubbing her sore wrists, she indicated hopefully her lips, which were still bound by the Silence.
Phantom bit his own lip, indicating her forward again. "Get up on the counter here, 'kay?"
She eyed the aforementioned counter appraisingly, then shook her head unsurely.
"Can't? Or won't?" Phantom prodded. She held up one finger.
"Fine. Give me your hand again."
Still wary, she gave him one hand, the other holding tightly to the cloak on her thin shoulders.
"...Hold on." With an almost mischevious smile, Phantom's eyes flashed an even brighter green.
The girl's eyes went wide with shock as she felt her body become weightless, and her grip on his hand tightened reflexively.
"It's O.K., I'm just helping you onto the counter. Calm down..." he said soothingly, placing on hand on her hip to steer her onto the counter, lowering her gently.
She gave Phantom a reproachful look when she settled, pulling her hand away - indignantly removing his hand from her hip - and crossing her arms.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that without warning you." He apologized sincerely. He didn't bother awaiting a response, though, and began digging around in one of his tomes.
Phantom traced a long finger down the page as he skimmed over the words, searching for the spell to break a Silence.
She gave up glaring at his head, after a moment, and began picking boredly at her ragged skirt.
He found something after a bit and made a noise, tapping the list of ingredients absently with one hand as his attention turned to the various bottles littering his desk in an orderly fashion.
He grabbed a few, pausing to double check the list. He put one back, grabbing another that was almost identical - the girl tried to follow his progress, but all of the ingredients looked the same to her.
He looked over his little collection of bottles critically, beckoning a mixing bowl with a flick of one finger.
He poured tiny drops from all but two of the ingredients into the bowl, ending with maybe a half-teaspoon of liquid. He raised the bowl to his lips, gently blowing magic into the mixture.
The Silenced girl watched in fascination as the little spiral of magic stirred itself into the liquid, which settled gently back into the bowl.
"Cinnamon, or mint?" Phantom inquired softly.
She looked up, obviously somewhat confused.
"This gunk might taste a little gross by itself. So. Cinnamon, or mint spell-gunk?" He smiled wryly, gesturing to each of the last two bottles in turn.
She pursed her lips for a moment, before indicating the second.
"Mint it is," he laughed lightly. Phantom poured a drop in, and rotated his wrist, stirring the bowl's content.
He dabbed one finger in the stuff, setting the bowl down as he gestured for her to lean closer.
Gently but thoroughly, he coated her lips with the cool liquid. Satisfied, he blew softly on her lips, to assure that the blend soaked in.
"Try now," he commanded. She nodded and tried to formulate a word, but still to no avail.
Annoyed, he turned back to his tome, rereading the segment over.
After a moment, his composure - and jaw - dropped comically.
"You've gotta be kidding me!" He reread the line over again, not believing the words he found.
'K-kiss?'
Since a Silencing affected her ability to open her mouth to speak, as well as to keep any noise from coming from her throat... if he didn't get the spell off ... she would surely starve.
Unable to think of another option - and rather convinced the universe was out to get him- he caught hold of her chin with one hand.
Quickly - so he wouldn't have to deal with resistance (or see the look he knew was on her face) - he closed the space between them and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss could only be defined as chaste, he assured himself. Because there was no emotional attachment behind the action: and he pulled away the moment he felt the spell dissipate.
He pointedly ignored the butterflies that decided to take up residency in his stomach.
Keeping his demeanor cool and collected, he put away his magic things.
She refused his help getting down from the counter, but he wasn't about to blame her. He wondered absently if a peck on the mouth counted as sexual harassment.
His brain chose that moment to recall that she was now his slave. Even if it was harassment, she couldn't do anything about it...
That thought killed the butterflies almost instantly. Unfortunately, their demise only resulted in Phantom feeling sick to his stomach.
So, with all the grace of an awkward teenage boy, he changed the subject.
"How about now?"
Her face was still red as she answered tentatively, "B-" She cleared her throat, and tried again. "Better."
He smiled a little, even though they were awkwardly avoiding looking at each other.
"Good, then. I guess the next order of business is getting you presentable."
She nodded, and he got the sense that she was being rather subdued.
"And after that?" Her voice was steady, and her tone bordered on a challenge. He found that he rather enjoyed her attitude: not many slaves posessed such a fierce spirit.
"You'll need to go to the matron. She'll get you cleaned up, and provide you with some decent clothes. After that, she can point you to the Mess Hall for lunch. Which, you look like you could use. When you're done eating, you can just come back here, and I'll explain everything."
She accepted that easily enough, but there was still something he felt like he was forgetting...
"Ugh, right!" He rapped his knuckles against his forehead. "Almost forgot. I never caught your name."
She seemed startled by the subject change, but managed a steady reply. "Sam."
He quirked his eyebrows, smiling slightly. "Sam... It suits you." He turned, and began to leave; only to be stopped by Sam's voice.
"Wait! I-" She seemed unable to formulate her thought, so he waved his hand impatiently.
"You what?"
She sighed in defeat. "Where's the matron's building?"
Phantom grinned, and this time it was an honest expression.
"Right, sorry. The Matron's is that big-ish building right there." He indicated a large building across the clearing. "However, I can't have you walking around in that," he decided, "So…" He raised one hand and made a vague gesture, accompanied by a phrase in Centaurian mage-speak under his breath. Sam's eyes widened in shock as she was enveloped by a swirl of green energy.
"Ta!" He wiggled his fingers and gave her another wicked smile as she blinked out of the tent in a flash. Smiling, he headed off to find sleeping arrangements for his new... Sam.
Whatcha think? Not quite completely re-done, but definitely improved upon, in my opinion. I'd much like to hear yours? (Opinions, that is.)