A Moonacre Fanfiction Peace on Earth

Ambrose trotted down the stairs to the De Noir's Great Hall. It was midmorning, and he was starving. Dancing until early in the morning did that to a person, he smirked. Well, Maria had been quite taken with him, if he did say so himself. Seating himself at the long table, he signaled a serving maid and requested a meal fit for a king. Or a prince.

Ambrose chuckled. If he married the Moon Princess, he would be a prince. And he'd likely get the manor; Sir Benjamin couldn't live forever. There was that business with him and Loveday having a baby, but there were ways of dealing with that. A life of ease and luxury as opposed to this primitive existence of hunting and labor appealed to him—not to mention, Maria wasn't bad looking herself. But first, he had to secure the girl's affections. Not that it would be difficult. She and Robin had had an argument, and of course she would need consoling. Why shouldn't he be the one to offer it?

As he ate, Ambrose watched the girls in the kitchen. One in particular seemed happy. What was her name? Jackie. He'd flirted with her of course, but her family was penniless, and she was only a servant. Ambrose couldn't afford to waste much time on lowly folk like herself.

He wiped his mouth carefully with a cloth napkin, checking his reflection in a goblet. Yes, even with few hours of sleep, he looked good. He stood from the table and made his way out. As he passed the head of the table, he heard Coeur De Noir speaking. Ambrose slowed to listen.

"What do you mean, you can't find him? Maybe he stayed at the manor." He let loose a heavy, fatherly sigh. "Well, I've got an appointment I can't miss. He'll turn up, no doubt."

He could only be talking about Robin. And he was missing? Ambrose frowned. Probably best Maria didn't hear about this. It'd trouble her, and he couldn't have that. He pulled his thick cloak round about him and strode through the village with all the confidence of a gambler with four aces. Grinning to himself about how fine his garments would be once he was situated in the manor, he walked down into the forest. The snow was still relatively deep, which in some places compressed his proud walk to an awkward shuffle. Much of the snow had been tamped down from the large party last night.

Deep in the woods now, Ambrose was grateful for the unclouded sun. He'd never liked the woods much. Too wild. But at least with some friendly light, he could manage to find his way. Perhaps when he was lord of the manor he would cut down the forests and have some open bare fields. Yes, that would do nicely.

A grunt jolted him back to reality. He froze. Was it a feral animal? He began to reach down to his boot, in which he always kept a dagger. Just in case. His eyes caught on a dark figure sprawled in the shadow of a shrub. An animal? He peered closer. No, a person.

The person began to move. Ambrose watched. They moaned painfully as they stood and began to mutter,

"Where—who—" Ambrose stiffened momentarily, then willed himself to relax. He smiled, making it seem easy.

"Good day to you, Robin."

"Hello—" Robin blinked rapidly. "How did I—"

"Do you remember nothing from last night?"

"Last night?" Robin screwed up his features in concentration. "Ugh, my head hurts—" he groaned for a long moment. Then he frowned. "Actually, I do remember last night." He looked up at Ambrose, eyes menacingly dark. "Pretty well." Ambrose shifted his weight. Robin's eyes narrowed. "And where would you be going this fine morning?"

Ambrose considered his options. He could say lightly that he was going back to the De Noir village, thereby insinuating he had stayed at the manor. But this wasn't logical, since Robin knew Maria's nature. Ambrose had only met her last night, but he could tell she was not a girl of impropriety.

"Well?" Robin's eyes betrayed his dizziness, but his voice was deadly calm.

"Going hunting."

"You don't hunt, Ambrose," Robin enunciated sharply, "not animals, anyway."

"Why do you care what I do?"

"I care when it involves my girl."

"That wench isn't your girl, whatever you say."

"Watch your tongue."

"Maria danced more with me last night than she's ever danced with you in your life." Ambrose's eyes were dancing now.

"Don't you dare say—"

"Am I wrong? Did you not quarrel? Was I getting mixed signals when she marched in and took my hand and demanded we dance?" He may have been exaggerating the truth a bit, but it served his purpose. Robin began to speak, but Ambrose cut him off. "Perhaps it was my imagination, but I almost thought I saw you getting drunk in a corner with some girls of questionable character—"

"The only person with 'questionable character' is you—"

"And then you danced so sloppily, I'm sure Maria was ashamed she'd ever associated with you. I mean really, look at you now! Sleeping in the forest, awakening with a hangover, sloppy, immature, clumsy, poor manners, crude, dirty—"

"You take that back or so help me—" Robin paused.

"Or what?" Ambrose taunted, schooling his features into a mask of haughty indifference. He knew Robin was much stronger and more agile than him. But Ambrose could bluff.

Robin squared his jaw. He sorely wanted to pound this pretty boy into a pulp. But Maria wouldn't like that. Did she like Ambrose? Well, in beating Ambrose up, Robin wouldn't be showing refined manners.

Ambrose must have noticed this hesitation. He smirked.

"I can see you had a rough night, but there's no use taking it out on me." He reprimanded innocently. "I, for one, had a most enjoyable evening. Though I confess I wasn't quite prepared for the fire with which she kissed. Never before have I encountered such passion—"

But he got no further. Robin launched into Ambrose. They landed on the ground. Robin threw a heavy punch. Ambrose squeaked. He clawed at Robin's face. He scratched and bit and pinched. The young men rolled and tussled. Then rolled apart and stood. Breathing heavily, they eyed each other. Robin's gaze was slightly hazy.

Ambrose chuckled.

Robin charged. He tackled him, but not before Ambrose could land one solid fist on Robin's left eye. This infuriated Robin even more—he had handsome eyes, and he knew it—and he fought with all the vigor he could muster. Ambrose squirmed and scraped. They rolled apart again and got to their feet, breaths coming ragged. Ambrose squatted. Robin frowned, blinking to focus.

Ambrose's hand emerged from his boot. He sent something hurtling through the air towards Robin. It glistened. Robin's still foggy brain interpreted too slowly. He moved just as the dagger struck his shoulder. Robin fell. His gaze flickered. He saw Ambrose's hooded form fleeing.

But he couldn't pass out here. He might lose too much blood. Robin grunted, then hauled himself to a sitting position. Ah, but it hurt! The dagger was still embedded. Robin jerked it out, gasping. He wiped the blade in the snow and shoved it in his pocket. The blood was bright crimson against the snow. Clutching his shoulder, he rose shakily to his feet. He needed help. He'd seen people die of infections from wounds. Now where was he?

Robin gauged the area. It would be a long walk to the De Noir village. Moonacre Manor wasn't far. Maria was still angry with him, but that didn't matter right now. He was wounded. He could deal with matters of the heart later. Right now he had to make sure his heart kept beating. He staggered slowly.

The combination of hangover and dagger wound did not make for good travelling.

But he would make it.

He had to.

Ambrose would not lay a hand on Maria, not while Robin still had breath. Driven by this thought, he plunged onward through the forest.

A/N: Dear reader,

Thanks for sticking with me! Thoughts on our character thus far? I'd be happy to hear. Also, what think you of my original characters (mostly Ambrose and Jackie)? Sorry I didn't publish anything for Valentine's Day; life is too busy, as always. At any rate, I wish you happy reading!

Your devoted

Ponygirl7