A/N: This is just me reminiscing on Draco and what a wonderful life he had... Perhaps I will write more chapters, but right now it's pretty much a one-timer. Please review, it would mean so much to me, constructive criticism appreciated!
The ride was smooth; as smooth as anything with four hoofed feet could make it. The rhythmic beating of the hooves pounding into the ground sent him forward and backward, but he had already eased into the flow of the beast's movements. The horse raised her head and flicked her ears back to listen to the smooth voice of her rider. She did not understand what he said, but the voice made all the difference to her. He had raised her from the small, clumsy foal into this proud and strong mare; it had been his tender voice and his soft hands coming to her in the morning and giving her carrots or sugar. She would go anywhere for him, and he knew this.
He rode bareback, a solemn figure astride what appeared at first to be molten silver; her smooth silvery coat matched intimately his wispy hair flowing every which way in the breeze. As a strong counterpoint, his black outfit matched her black mane and tail as if they had been crafted of the same thread. The neighbors knew, when the streak of silver lanced by them like an arrow, exactly who it was; no other man or boy could ride her like he could.
As he leaned into her, she noticed the fence lurking before her, nearly twenty meters away. She bunched her legs and launched when she was three meters away; her graceful leap taking her high above the fence, and touched down smoothly. She kept up her canter, knowing that her rider did not want her to stop, and to her surprise, he drove her into a gallop.
Something was wrong with him; as always, when he was disturbed or confused, he drove her harder. It was not painful; the way he drove her was more an insistence that she give him her all. And when she gave her all, he knew it. Everyone knew it.
He pulled her up into a smooth trot and they darted across the fields, feeling the flow of muscles bunching and releasing. She slowed, feeling rather than listening to him mutter his desire to slow down.
"I can't control these dreams," he murmured, and then slid off of her back. "Every day and night I draw closer to darkness." He leaned into her shoulder, and rubbed at his eyes angrily. "And he wants me to give in to these dreams; But I can't. Even when I want to, to make them stop, I can't. And he won't accept no for an answer." Draco took slow steps through the field, the mare following. He didn't need to lead her; she knew that she should follow him, and wherever he went that she could, she would.
"God, Argen-Somme, I remember when he used to take me out riding with him; he loved it. You and Regen-Ascenso, flying through the breeze..." She remembered Regen-Ascenso; he had been her sire. She hadn't seen him in a long time; Regen-Ascenso was his father's steed, an all black beauty with large golden eyes, and she had the feeling that his father did not have time to ride any longer. Her ears flipped forward as he continued his soliloquy.
"And now he's cold, and hard. And he expects me to turn cold and hard alongside him. He hit Mum yesterday; said she wasn't doing her job. There's no love anymore between the two of them, Argen-Somme, and I think Mum knows it.
"I remember, too, how much they loved each other. There was a fire... a life that couldn't be ignored; when they sat down to the table; when she walked up beside him in the sun room—he had it removed yesterday; all the glass panels replaced by dark cold walls. It's like he's turning the whole house into a dungeon, and I'm the only one that doesn't like it that way. Even Mum doesn't protest anything anymore...
"I feel so trapped, Argen-Somme, and I don't know what to do. It's like he's turning us all into vessels, empty vessels, devoid of life. Like he's waiting for something to come fill us."
"Draco?" A female voice called out onto the grounds. "Are you out there?"
He chose to ignore the woman, although her calls grew more insistent. He looked at Argen-Somme, his grey eyes flickering with mischief, and she knew that his soliloquy was finished. "Let's ride." She nodded her head up and down with excitement, and he leaped up gracefully onto her back, feathers brushing his face gently. She reared up on her back legs and flung her beautiful silver and black wings out behind her like a banner; her silver hooves glinted in the morning sun that peeked out from behind a cloud.
With a great flexing of her leg muscles, she left the ground, and used the downward motion of her great wings to toss them higher. She was not called Argen-Somme for nothing; she truly was a Silver Dream.
And if she could give freedom to him, all of his nightmares would fade, and his dreams would come to pass.
It was a thought.
The ride was smooth; as smooth as anything with four hoofed feet could make it. The rhythmic beating of the hooves pounding into the ground sent him forward and backward, but he had already eased into the flow of the beast's movements. The horse raised her head and flicked her ears back to listen to the smooth voice of her rider. She did not understand what he said, but the voice made all the difference to her. He had raised her from the small, clumsy foal into this proud and strong mare; it had been his tender voice and his soft hands coming to her in the morning and giving her carrots or sugar. She would go anywhere for him, and he knew this.
He rode bareback, a solemn figure astride what appeared at first to be molten silver; her smooth silvery coat matched intimately his wispy hair flowing every which way in the breeze. As a strong counterpoint, his black outfit matched her black mane and tail as if they had been crafted of the same thread. The neighbors knew, when the streak of silver lanced by them like an arrow, exactly who it was; no other man or boy could ride her like he could.
As he leaned into her, she noticed the fence lurking before her, nearly twenty meters away. She bunched her legs and launched when she was three meters away; her graceful leap taking her high above the fence, and touched down smoothly. She kept up her canter, knowing that her rider did not want her to stop, and to her surprise, he drove her into a gallop.
Something was wrong with him; as always, when he was disturbed or confused, he drove her harder. It was not painful; the way he drove her was more an insistence that she give him her all. And when she gave her all, he knew it. Everyone knew it.
He pulled her up into a smooth trot and they darted across the fields, feeling the flow of muscles bunching and releasing. She slowed, feeling rather than listening to him mutter his desire to slow down.
"I can't control these dreams," he murmured, and then slid off of her back. "Every day and night I draw closer to darkness." He leaned into her shoulder, and rubbed at his eyes angrily. "And he wants me to give in to these dreams; But I can't. Even when I want to, to make them stop, I can't. And he won't accept no for an answer." Draco took slow steps through the field, the mare following. He didn't need to lead her; she knew that she should follow him, and wherever he went that she could, she would.
"God, Argen-Somme, I remember when he used to take me out riding with him; he loved it. You and Regen-Ascenso, flying through the breeze..." She remembered Regen-Ascenso; he had been her sire. She hadn't seen him in a long time; Regen-Ascenso was his father's steed, an all black beauty with large golden eyes, and she had the feeling that his father did not have time to ride any longer. Her ears flipped forward as he continued his soliloquy.
"And now he's cold, and hard. And he expects me to turn cold and hard alongside him. He hit Mum yesterday; said she wasn't doing her job. There's no love anymore between the two of them, Argen-Somme, and I think Mum knows it.
"I remember, too, how much they loved each other. There was a fire... a life that couldn't be ignored; when they sat down to the table; when she walked up beside him in the sun room—he had it removed yesterday; all the glass panels replaced by dark cold walls. It's like he's turning the whole house into a dungeon, and I'm the only one that doesn't like it that way. Even Mum doesn't protest anything anymore...
"I feel so trapped, Argen-Somme, and I don't know what to do. It's like he's turning us all into vessels, empty vessels, devoid of life. Like he's waiting for something to come fill us."
"Draco?" A female voice called out onto the grounds. "Are you out there?"
He chose to ignore the woman, although her calls grew more insistent. He looked at Argen-Somme, his grey eyes flickering with mischief, and she knew that his soliloquy was finished. "Let's ride." She nodded her head up and down with excitement, and he leaped up gracefully onto her back, feathers brushing his face gently. She reared up on her back legs and flung her beautiful silver and black wings out behind her like a banner; her silver hooves glinted in the morning sun that peeked out from behind a cloud.
With a great flexing of her leg muscles, she left the ground, and used the downward motion of her great wings to toss them higher. She was not called Argen-Somme for nothing; she truly was a Silver Dream.
And if she could give freedom to him, all of his nightmares would fade, and his dreams would come to pass.
It was a thought.