"Calm. Breathe. Legs." Sigurd's voice filled the riding hall and Søren acted as he was told to. Dana puffed, her hind legs pushed and both went flying over the giant oxer.
"Breathe." Dana galloped a stride, head high and taxing the next jump and already they sailed over the vertical with yellow stripes. A sharp turn.
"Safety seat," Sigurd reminded Søren which made him recline ever so slightly, gave him the feeling of security and Dana stretched and lifted off the ground on a longer distance than optimal, but Søren remained cool and upon her front legs touching the ground his face split into a huge grin. He slowed her down, gave her the reins and clapped her.

"Good girl!"
"Good job," Sigurd said, hands in his coat pockets and slowly approaching Søren.
"Thanks!" Søren smiled at his boyfriend and let Dana walk to keep her muscles moving. Her breath formed small clouds and some steam rose from her body. It really was cold.
"What do you think about showing next weekend?"
"Where? How?" Søren's eyes widened and he felt his just calmed down heart speed up again.
"Not a competition, but Christmas show. Hákon and I will perform at the equestrian centre two hours from here. They've got a local competition and I think the youngsters would love to watch a professional jump a course of around 1,50 when they wait for the results to come in."
"I don't know Sigurd…"
"It would be a good opportunity to test if you can jump again in a stressful situation but without the pressure of being fast. That way you can take it safe and slow."
Søren made a face but upon looking at the course he just completed without a problem he felt his gut relaxing a bit again.
"Alright."

And here he was. One and a half weeks later, breathing in, breathing out, looking out for Sigurd, biting his lower lip and focusing back on his breathing exercise. The "barn" was not at all as small as Sigurd had made it out to be. A riding hall, a jumping arena and a smaller one for dressage. Two stables and meadows for the horses as far as the eye could see. There would be two hundred people watching. Or more. But he could do this.

He had warmed up Dana, his calmest horse, and himself and was only waiting for his cue. And there, finally, was Sigurd. He waved at Søren to come. Silently they walked to the riding hall's entrance. For once this barn was not all red but painted in blues and the natural brown of the wood. The large double door was still closed.

Sigurd looked up at Søren, one hand on his leg.
"Remember to breathe."
"I will."
"I'll be there with you."
"I know."
"You can do this."
"I hope so."
He felt Sigurd's fingers flick against his thigh.
"I can do it," he corrected himself and smiled down at Sigurd.
"Come here," Sigurd tip toed, Søren leaned down and stole a kiss from those sweet chapped lips.
"It's gonna be fun."

The doors opened and Sigurd strode in, followed by Søren and a stomping Dana. Her black ears rotated, her head lifted to analyse the new place she entered. The spectators all lined up at the side fence, cups of warm tea and coffee in hands. It smelled of sand, leather and aromatic Glögg. Low murmuring went through the people but almost everybody shut up when Sigurd strode in front of the spectators, raising his hands.
"The horse and rider may be professionals but we'd like to ask you for silence for this small performance, please."

Søren tried to ignore all the eyes staring at him as he showed Dana the surroundings, whilst having her focused on his signals still. Søren himself had to focus on Dana, himself, the course, his breathing, his body. He started to sweat, his guts seemed to churn around and his heart just wouldn't calm down. Sigurd strode back to the middle of the place. They locked eyes, Sigurd nodded reassuringly and some pop song started blaring out of the speakers. The sound of It made Søren calm again. He didn't hear the people anymore, it was one of his favourite motivational pieces and he had trained with that music before. Sigurd was there. He could do this.

Dana galloped on her right hand, having a good rhythm with which Søren knew he had control and she'd still pull towards the jumps and carry him over them. The first obstacle came into sight. It was a bit smaller on purpose. Only 1,40… Søren counted down the strides, 3, he reclined ever so slightly, 2, he reassured Dana with his legs, 1, he breathed, and they flew. His eyes immediately focused on the next obstacle. An oxer, already higher. Dana whipped her tail around, got a bit too excited and Søren hummed lowly with his voice, nudged her with his reins, she found the perfect stride and off they went again.

Søren was back in his element. It felt right, it felt good and he couldn't help grinning, even when Dana made an excited buck in between. Even when the jumps reached now the height and width he was normally used to on competitions. And sooner than he'd had thought possible it was over. Applause roared in his ear and he let Dana speed up some and did his own, personal victory lap.

He wasn't alone anymore when he went outside. Hákon was already out, warming up the horses with which he and Sigurd would show some liberty tricks with after the declaration of the winners. Sigurd walked along his side looking up at him with pride swelling up his chest and brightening up his eyes.
"You did very good."
"I am so glad its over but now I want more," Søren grinned.
"That's even better," Sigurd nodded and when they reached the gate to the arena where Søren would cool down Dana he picked up her blanket and threw it over her back, his hand brushing against Søren's leg and he looked up at the Dane with dark eyes that made his butterflies melt inside. Then the moment passed and Sigurd briskly turned around to take over his horse from Hákon.

Søren talked with some excited girls at the fence about his experience, answered questions about his career, handling horses and competitions when he picked out Sigurd approaching again with his horse in tow, Hákon almost stumbling to try to keep up with Sigurd's quick pace, gesticulating. Søren just wanted to ask whether the performance went well, when he unconsciously made Dana step back and his blood drained from his face. Sigurd was fuming with fury. Even the girls retreated, whispering and hushing to each other.

"I need your horse," Sigurd demanded.
"What?" Søren jumped off Dana and closed the distance to the brothers. "What has happened?"
"Apparently, I don't know how to ride, my horses are just brainwashed and I am just a wannabe rider who is too 'soft'," he snarled. Søren had a feeling that soft had a different meaning than he was supposed to think. A cold breeze ran through their clothes and hair, but Sigurd didn't seem to bother, despite only wearing his thin show outfit.
"And you just give in?" Søren asked and looked surprised at Hákon.
"It's an old-" he tried to explain but was interrupted by Sigurd.
"He is a friend of our family."
"But not of you?"

Sigurd shook his head as he made quick work of Søren's helmet. Søren held still and let Sigurd take it. Better not stand in the way of a fuming Norwegian who can crush a soul by a mere glare.
"He helped place me in the stable in Netherlands." Sigurd walked around and mounted Dana. "Old school. Horses need pain to understand. And so do gay people." As soon as he picked up the reins his whole demeanour changed. He was again relaxed, focused and made sure Dana was focused as he made her work again. Since she was a horse who was used to qualifiers and finals both in the same hour she had no problem finding her excitement again.
Søren who found himself robbed of his horse and helmet looked at Hákon for help.
"Come, I'll explain." He turned around and led his horse towards their trailer.

"His name is Thormund. We didn't know he has returned. He lived in the Emirates for some years. Trading with horses, advising people on the market and so on. But apparently he decided to live here again."
"Which is problematic."
"Indeed. He is one of the reasons Sigurd never came out to our family. Whenever he raged about the advancement of the legalisation of gay marriage back then, our parents agreed, probably to stay on his good side. Or because they thought the same. We still don't know. As Thormund had some knowhow about horses he also accompanied Sigurd and his parents to competitions. He always belittled him and when Sigurd refused to punish his horse with the whip for refusing a fence or being afraid, Thormund did it for him. I was lucky enough that he didn't even bother to 'help' me with my puny Icelandic horse."
Søren was speechless. They loaded the horses into the trailer.

As they walked back Søren could make out Sigurd who galloped with Dana and popped a small jump to get used to her movements.
"I am so sorry," was the only thing Søren managed to mutter.
"It didn't really bother Sigurd at that time beside of the beating of his horse. If he'd had a boyfriend back then and would be a weaker person, it would have been a real problem."
"But now he's back, has seen us kiss as we did it around fifty times here already and probably heard the story from your parents…" Søren waved in front of him in circles. Hákon understood. "Exactly. He insulted Sigurd in a way that no one would understand the real meaning in 'soft'. They'd just think he meant Sigurd's riding skills, which he meant to target of course as well."
"And now Sigurd wants to show him-"
"-that he has grown to be an even better rider than Thormund could have ever made him be."

The riding hall was packed now. All of the young competitors were done with taking care of their horses. All of the prices were put into bags or cars. Everybody has had time to get something to drink and eat. The jumps were still at the same place as before but lowered a bit. Sigurd was good. But it had been quite a while since he had jumped 1,60. As with Søren the first jump was the lowest, but this time 1,30. Although it still gradually mounted until the last giant oxer. 1,60 high, 2 metres wide. As high and wide as it could get. Now it was Søren's turn to stand at Sigurd's side. He looked up at him.
"You can do this."
"I can do this," Sigurd muttered, determination set deep into his eyes.
"You know Dana likes –"
"-to have reins given to her over the jump. She's got an excellent balance."
"And don't nudge her with the legs when she-"
"-bucks. Only a bit with the reins."
Søren laughed. "I don't think I need to worry."
Sigurd mustered a little smile when he saw that carefree face.
"Come here." Søren smirked, tip toed and Sigurd leaned down to steal a kiss. A kiss deeper and rougher than the one they had not even an hour before. The doors swung open once more, Søren strode inside, Sigurd followed, licking his lips and setting eyes on the man in his sixties, greying red hair, a sharp chin and a cold sneer on his face, just as Hákon had described him.

Søren watched in awe. And so did the others. Sigurd was beautiful in his green vest, his slender legs, his elegant hold on the reins, the barely visible communication between him and Dana. They never seemed to take foot on the earth, only flying. Søren already knew that Dana was an elegant horse, envied by many, her videos and pictures coursing around social media, often used in video edits. But together with Sigurd they truly seemed out of a fairy tale. Her black fur contrasting perfectly fair Sigurd. When they completed the course applause roared once again, Dana did her obligatory buck and Sigurd looked at the spectators when he rounded his small victory lap. But Thormund had disappeared in the crowd.
Søren clapped along, almost jumping to Sigurd's side. "You should have seen his face!" He laughed. "As if he had to poop whilst eating a lemon." His expression softened, but his eyes sparkled still with glee. "You were fantastic."
"Felt good jumping like this again," Sigurd hummed and held Søren's hand as they walked to let Dana cool down, for good today.