The Horseman knew where the Black Witch lived. But she'd cast spells to keep him from taking his skull back. He knew she kept the skull in the mill where she cast all her spells. As he raced through the woods the Horseman realized that the young man (who he really had to find another name for) was in some danger from the Witch. And since he'd been sleeping when the Horseman had---- appropriated him he was unarmed. The Horseman knew his Liebling would not be able to wield his sword. However, he still had a dagger he kept tucked in his boot, it had been his father's and was all he had left of him. When they stopped the Horseman demounted. Reaching up he helped the young man down from Daredevil's back. Ah, that hand in his, slender, but surprisingly strong. His brown eyes, at once intelligent and vulnerable, innocent and worldly. The Horseman marveled at this ravishing angel made flesh who the fates had tossed in his path. No, he scolded himself, remember, stay in the moment, pay attention. Focus on getting your head back without letting the Witch harm the beautiful young man. The Horseman found himself dwelling on the second part. No. No one was going to hurt him.
****
Steeling himself Ichabod accepted the Horseman's hand off the horse. They were at an old, broken down mill. He shivered involuntarily, was everything in this town eerie? Apparently this was their destination. Also, apparently he was going alone, for the Horseman stood to the side and gestured to the mill. 'Of course you're going alone.' he scolded himself, 'Obviously he can't get the skull back himself or he wouldn't've shanghaied you.' Still, Ichabod felt oddly bereft without the Hessian's silent presence. He knew he should be scared, terrified, near fainting. But he wasn't. For some reason he felt safe when he was with the Horseman, protected. It was ridiculous he knew, but feelings were seldom rational, which is why he did his best to repress his. He took a deep breath. Best to get it over with. Before he could enter the mill the Horseman stopped him. He turned, the Horseman was offering an old dagger. He flushed as he realize he'd been about to enter a potentially dangerous situation without an weapon. He felt so odd, clad in only a loose white shirt and black pants. "Thank you."
The mill looked exactly as one would expect it to look like. Nothing overtly out of place. Ichabod sighed and began combing the mill for the stolen skull. He finally found it while shifting through a pile of hay. Or rather he found a wooden box which he hoped would contain the skull. It was locked, but Ichabod considered it his duty to know the methods which people might use to break the law. To put it bluntly he knew how to pick locks. So he set about picking this one. However, just as he heard the distinctive click that indicated that the lock was open an angry female voice demanded, "What are you doing here?"
Ichabod turned. Not releasing the box he replied, "I could ask you the same question Lady Van Tassal. But since I believe I already know the answer I believe I'll finish here first." He would have to be wary of her, after all, she was responsible for the deaths of seven people. He wasn't counting Brom naturally. Opening the box he revealed the Horseman's skull, nestled in a bed of black satin, how quaint. He reached for it, and was knocked flat Lady Van Tassal hurled herself at him. "Oof" The box and the skull it contained spilled to the floor of the mill. Ichabod scrambled to get it. Lady Van Tassal seized his hair in an attempt to stop him. Desperately he turned the Horseman's knife on her, plunging it into her thigh. She screamed and released him. Quickly he grabbed the skull and darted out, carrying it. The Horseman was waiting outside, somehow he managed to look anxious, despite lack of a face with which to put an expression, such as anxiousness. Ichabod was incredibly curious about how he could see without a head too, or smell, or hear. But obviously he could, because he responded when Ichabod spoke, and he wasn't walking into trees or anything. Now wouldn't that look funny? The ruthless Horseman bent on killing you just walked into a tree.
Taking the skull from Ichabod the Horseman placed it on his shoulders. There it began one of the most remarkable, and, from the looks of it, painful, transformations Ichabod had ever witnessed. He was so engrossed in the regeneration process he failed to notice Lady Van Tassal come up behind him. "Interfering fool!" She cried and plunged the dagger into his back. He gasped in surprise, vaguely he heard a cry of denial coming from the Horseman. As the black oblivion claimed him he only had time to regret that he would never see the Horseman's face.
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Darkdancer: Whew, that was hard to write, took me three days.
Ichabod: I'm sorry, I've never done this before you know.
Darkdancer: I know, I don't expect you to have the skill of my more experienced muses. I should've started you with a PWP like I did Jack.
Ichabod: PWP?
Darkdancer: Mmmhmm. But that'll be the next fic. I have this great idea for you, the Horseman, and bondage. Not quite a PWP, more of a lemon actually. Now that I think about it.
Ichabod:, bright red : B-Bondage?
Darkdancer: Mmmhmm. (To the readers) and now that that chapter is over with (except for some lovely feedback) I can finally get to the fun part of this story. On with the slash!