Summary: And so, she leads the blind prince home. AU
Twisted Fairytales
Reagan Holt does not exactly come from a family known for brains. The fact of the matter is that all scions of the Tomas clan are presumed to be less than stupid. It is no surprise then, that intelligence is not something they pride themselves on (or had, in many people's opinions). One of the qualities they are proud of, however, other than their almost supernatural athletic ability and determination, is their focus. And it is this very focus that is missing on today's bright morning, hence leading Reagan to crash into a horse, which by all accounts, is no tiny animal. But Reagan is strong as steel, so she is hardly injured.
She rubs her sore posterior as she curses in a very unladylike manner and promptly decides to give the horse's rider a piece of her mind. After all, which fool stops right in the middle of a forest path? (Granted, it is a road usually devoid of any other users other than herself, and she is partly to blame for not paying attention, but she concludes that those details hardly matter.)
"Are you alright?" the rider asks her, though not unkindly. And although Reagan is usually as stubborn as a mule that sees everything she wants to do through, her resolve to start screaming and to possibly torture him physically dies a little as she sets her eyes on him, for he certainly appeals to her sense of aesthetics. (And she is certain that many other women will also concur.)
"I'm fine," she mumbles slightly in return, feeling very small in his presence, especially after seeing his fancy clothes.
The rider gives his steed a little kick in order to make it turn around, and it is only now that Reagan realises that he has not been facing her for all this time. "Ah, so you are over here," he says, albeit more to himself than to her. "My apologies for causing your fall." He gives her a lopsided grin. "However, I dare say that this is the first time that anyone has knocked into my horse."
She blushes slightly and hopes to the high heavens that he doesn't notice. "I wasn't paying attention," she retorts, her voice taking on a defensive tone, before she realises that he is most likely of higher rank than her in the social hierarchy and hurriedly curtsies and offers an apology.
Another smile appears on his face, this time friendly in nature. "May I ask for your name, fair lady?"
Reagan cannot help but laugh like a madman. A confused look etches itself onto the rider's face, for he does not understand what is so humorous.
She apologises again, as she wipes tears from the corner of her eyes. "I'm simply not used to people calling me a lady." Peals of laughter erupt from her again. "My stature is one of a lumberjack, for goodness' sakes, and I'm in breeches as we speak. Reagan Holt, a lady? I'm no lady, anyone can see that!" she exclaims and chuckles once more.
"I cannot," comes the quiet reply.
"Why? Are you blind?" she jests. Silence greets her little joke, and it hits her that she may have crossed the line. Her face turns deathly pale. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, Lord—"
"I am no lord; I am Prince Theodore from the Kingdom of Stars."
Reagan's mouth contorts into a variety of shapes as she realises that she may very well cause an international incident.
He seems to sense her discomfort, however, and tries to put her at ease with a smile. "Close your mouth, fair lady, for it may become a flytrap if you are not careful. As for the slip of the tongue," he says in a compassionate tone, "I will forget that it ever happened." A wistful look fleets across his eyes. "We all make mistakes, some more grave than others."
With trepidation, she questions whether his mistake caused his blindness, for curiosity is getting the best of her.
"It did. I once fell in love with a beautiful maiden named Rapunzel. She was not your average beauty, with her olive skin, amber eyes and raven-black tresses that spanned for miles. She lived in a tower, imprisoned by Mother Kabra, and she would let her hair down for me to climb up each day. Mother Kabra found out soon, however, and cut off her silky hair," he recalls vividly. "One day, I climbed up Rapunzel's hair, only to find Mother Kabra at the other end. She pushed me off the tower's ledge, and I subsequently fell into the bed of thorns below, causing me to lose my sight.
"I wandered the wastelands of that country for months, searching for Rapunzel and hoping that we could rescue each other from our own plights; I was her only salvation from Mother Kabra, and her tears were the only cure for my blindness. However, it seems that Rapunzel and Mother Kabra were in cahoots. They stole the only treasures I had with me at the time and went to the Gucci shop in the nearest town. After that harrowing experience, I simply took to my steed and rode on without ever looking back."
"But where are you going now?" she asks, wanting to do all in her power to help the prince in front of her. "Are you lost?"
He gives her a knowing smile, and she cannot help but return the favour once she sees the twinkle in his eyes. "Not all who wander are lost, Lady Holt."
"Oh, do stop calling me that; call me Reagan instead," she tells him. He is no longer astride now and though it takes him a bit of effort to locate her hand (which he notes is very calloused), he bends over to kiss it lightly, as per all his lessons back in the palace. "Oh, none of that, please," she protests. "It's not necessary. I don't even come from a noble family. I'm not even a lady!"
He stops what he is in the process of doing to look up at her. Even though he is blind, it feels like he sees right to her very core. "But does that mean that you do not wish to feel like one?" he questions, startling her, and in the end, she manages to shake her head. Because although she is built like a lumberjack, she is still a girl. "I see," he tells her, and she knows that he really does. "May I give you a ride to wherever it is that you are headed to?"
"Oh no," she insists, gesturing wildly and she cannot help but notice that her hand is tingling slightly. "I run because I like it, not because I'm in a hurry."
"Ah. So where were you running to, then?"
"Nowhere in particular," she responds.
"Is that so?" A thoughtful look flits about his face. "Then, maybe that is not the correct question." He gazes at her. "What are you running away from?"
And in that moment, Reagan, strong as steel, begins to crack.
"Is it to my understanding then, that your family absolutely abhors activities of culture and refinement?" Ted asks, once they have made it into a small clearing full of colourful flowers that make the ground seem like it is covered in iridescent irises.
Reagan opens her mouth to deny his question, but closes it once it is clear even to her that her family loves hog-riding more than the town festivals. "... You could say that."
"And they are completely clueless as to your ability in dancing?"
She nods sadly. "There aren't exactly many opportunities to showcase it during the annual family hogwash. I don't dare dance in front of them; it's been a secret for as long as I can remember, because I know they'll laugh at me."
"That is ridiculous! Talent is not something to be abused through neglect." He stands up abruptly, which leaves her utterly confused. He holds out a hand in front of her, but a blank look still blankets her face. It takes her a while to understand what he is asking of her, but she is full of joy when she does.
She accepts his offer, and as she takes in the picturesque surroundings, it almost feels like nature is celebrating their first dance together, too.
"So what brings you here, Ted?" Reagan questions once they both have cooled down, and their beads of perspiration have disappeared along with the breeze. "Since you're not lost and all. Something special?"
"Not quite," he tells her. "Someone special, actually.
And suddenly, her heartbeat starts racing at the speed of light, which makes her want to smack herself upside down, because it is not as though he is talking about her.
"A friend."
His answer takes her by surprise, for someone as nice as him surely has friends. Her rapid heartbeat slows down, and she feels slightly disappointed (for she somehow hoped that he was talking about her, no matter how unlikely that is), but keeps a smile on her face. "But don't you have any at home? You're a prince, for goodness' sakes. People should be clamouring to be your friend!"
"That is the exact problem. It does not matter how friendly someone is; I am still their prince, and they are still my subjects," he explains. "Besides which, they are all too frightened to approach me. I simply want someone to talk to, but no one dares to listen. Though I whisper to my horse at times, it is not as though it can respond."
She pats his shoulder consolingly. "Don't fret, Ted, for I'm sure you'll find one soon. I feel it in my bones."
"Actually, I already have," he says with a bright smile, and by what Reagan thinks is a miracle, she somehow understands him immediately and manages to return the grin.
"Come on, then," she tells him, as she takes hold of one of his hands. Her initial disappointment is gone, replaced by a newfound happiness, for being his friend is still something worth celebrating. "Any friend of mine must surely meet my family."
And so, she leads the blind prince home.
A/N: I was debating on writing in somewhat Old to Middle English, but decided against it because I sort of got confused by it. In the end, I went with modern language with a more formal structure like how they do in recent publications of fairytales. Does it sound weird?
In the original series, the Holts caused the explosion leading to the Starlings' injuries, but here, Natalie and Isabel are the culprits. At first, it was Reagan as Rapunzel, but I wanted this to be more light-hearted and airy rather than being bogged down by revenge and all sorts of melodrama, due to the fact that Reagan did have a part in the explosion, unlike Rapunzel who was quite innocent in the Grimm Brothers' fairytale. (Plus, I sort of like the name Mother Kabra. :D)
I don't think the Holts are uncivilised, but they don't seem to be very appreciative of the arts.
PS. I own nothing from "The Lord of the Rings" or "The Horse Whisperer".