AN I have a lot of ambiguous feelings about the Horsemen and their horses. In the simplest terms...their souls have kind of melded, so they know what the other is feeling, and in some instances, thinking, but it is a very messy, empathetic link.

(this is where I say fuck canon they have no idea what they're doing with my baby Katrina, so I'm going to take permanent custody of her and, you know, actually do something productive :) )

Nothing significant changed about Katrina's life, now that she had permitted something more between her and Abraham. She had initially felt a squirm of dread at encouraging his affection, but he had maintained a suitable distance with her. He never did anything overt, but it was that exact fact that made her feel odd. He was a man of grand gestures, and yet there was such a mild sense of contentment whenever he wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger, or ran a ribbon on her skirt through his fingers.

More than that, the absolutely tenderness of these moments shocked Katrina. There was a softness in his eyes that was just Abraham, as he might have been had she gone along with everyone else's plan. And, on some days, that combination of simplicity and affection led Katrina to think what life would have been like, had she followed everyone else's plan. Marrying him, being the mistress of luxurious properties, attending all of the social gatherings of the Season, she could have handled it. If she had known that it wouldn't be simply well-intentioned but ultimately misdirected ostentation, if she had known there would be quiet moments like this…

Katrina's heart broke every time she let herself think that way, because she probably could have been content with him. But she hadn't wanted contentment, she wanted happiness.

And then her heart would break again, as she noticed the ugly scars on his neck, or catch sight of a gun or an axe. Then he would not be Abraham, it was Death stroking her hair, or running his thumb over her cheek. Death, the monster that had consigned her to Purgatory, killed numerous allies and friends, held her hostage by any means.

Katrina had to take a few breaths after that.

Once, he caught her disgruntled look at remembering. He frowned into her face, eyes holding the ghosts of suspicion.

"It's nothing, truly," she said, flashing him an unhappy smile. She had learned that half a lie was far better than a whole one, with him. "I would not want to bother you with details."

"Nonsense. I must know if I can help."

"It's nothing, I just…I would like to once more walk out into the sun with you. Our nightly ventures are pleasant enough, but I…miss the sun."

"I knew exactly what I was willing to give up for you," he said seriously. His hand was heavy over hers. "My only regret is that you are forced to give these things up as well."

Katrina reached out and touched him on the cheek.

Katrina brushed down Abraham's horse, loving the sound of his quiet murmur. She had progressed beautifully with him, and fully relished the fact that she could enter his stall freely.

She had wanted a few minutes alone with someone who would listen, and her spell was now powerful enough to limit his communication with the Horseman. She could whisper secrets into the beast's ear without Abraham finding out. Eventually, she would be able to coax secrets out of the horse, but Katrina knew the virtue of going slow, especially in so dangerous a venture.

Today, however, she was just there to give him attention. He seemed to preen under her gaze, standing a little taller as she worked down one side of his coat.

"Don't you feel the cold?" she asked him. "I feel it all the time, especially when I come out here. But you're worth it," Katrina promised, lips quirking at his indignant huff. She walked around to his other side, thinking.

"I used to love playing in the snow as a child. I'd scoop it up and toss it into the air, and dance around. Can you imagine that?"

He shuffled, bobbing his head as if uncertain. Katrina laughed, and then her hand slowed.

"Sometimes," she continued, voice catching, "sometimes I wonder if my son, Jeremy, Henry, the Horseman of War, I wonder if he ever played in the snow, if he ever played at all. He just…he seems so hard. And lately, I haven't even seen him at all."

Katrina frowned at the horse's pelt, suddenly taken with thoughts of her son. For whatever reason, he was staying away. And as much as seeing him stung, being without him made her throat close up. Concern and dread curled up in her throat if she let herself think about it too long, so she closed her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was light with teasing.

"Did you ever play with any of your horse friends in the snow? Or have you always been so regal?"

"You're bound to swell his pride, that way," Abraham called from the door. She looked up at him, and gave a soft laugh.

"That'll be fine, though, right? You'd never let that get in the way," she said to the horse, running a hand down his neck. He huffed and shifted, agreeing with her.

"You've been coming out here a lot, lately," Abraham noted, stopping by the stall door. "Does this have to do with what we spoke of earlier?"

Katrina's mind flicked to her half true complaints about not being able to go into the sun, then she shook her head.

"No. I simply don't want him to feel lonely," she said. She picked up a blanket and draped it over the horse's back. "You don't ride him as much in the cold."

"He doesn't like it."

"Oh?" Katrina asked, turning to look at the horse. "Well, aren't you glad for the stables?"

She picked up her brush and lantern, then stepped out of the stall. She closed the door, but lingered to give him one last stroke on the nose.

Abraham shifted closer, pressing into her back.

"It's snowing," he murmured, making Katrina smile.

"It is? When did it start?"

"Just before dark."

Katrina savored the warmth from Abraham's body, the heat from his hand on her waist. She had learned to be comfortable with this, to stand steady and wait for him to move away.

Abraham turned her face, and kissed her on the side of the mouth. Her hand fell from the horse's nose, steadying her with a grip on the stall door as he kissed her again.

This was not like last time. Last time, he had been desperate, rough and reckless in his hope for just one moment of affection. When he had been certain she would comply, however, he had softened. This time, Abraham was grabbing up what she offered with open hands.

Abraham turned her fully, his body bracing against hers. He kissed her hard, mouth grating against hers. He had her pressed flat against the stall door, making her stay within his reach, even though she wasn't trying to move away. Abraham's hands dug into her hips, promising bruises in the shape of his fingertips.

His teeth closed around her bottom lip, making Katrina drag in a breath. She felt his horse shuffle behind them, then turn away.

Abraham stopped, almost as abruptly as he had begun. He pulled his mouth away, but his hands were still clamped around her hips. They both panted for breath, and Katrina tried very, very hard not to panic over that onslaught. She swallowed back the tremors going through her, and looked at Abraham.

He was staring at his horse. It was not a friendly stare.

Katrina shivered, seeming to remind Abraham of the fact she was there.

"Why don't we go inside?" he suggested, stepping back and gesturing her toward the door. Katrina still felt a little shaky from the kiss, but she nodded, and walked with him to the door. When she glanced back at the horse, she saw that he was still facing the wall. His head was bent, as if in penance.

Katrina tiptoed through the house for the first little bit, unsure if Abraham would again try to tear the affection out of her. But he had returned to the way he had been before, mild in his gestures of adoration.

The snow continued to fall for the next couple of days. It was light, powdery stuff that dusted the ground and caught in her hair. Whenever Abraham saw this, he gave her a look that said she was the most beautiful thing in the world. Katrina finished reading all of the books in the house, and asked Abraham if his men could find more for her. He had smiled, touched her hand, and said of course. Things were back to normal.

And yet, she was still hesitant to return to the stables. Katrina finally forced herself out of the door, moving quickly through the cold. When she entered the stables, the horse gave a soft whinny, and stared straight ahead.

"Come, now," she whispered, trying to make him look at her, "I didn't upset you last time, did I?"

He murmured some evasive protest, and turned his whole body to avoid facing her. Katrina frowned, placed a hand on his side, and left. When Abraham asked her why she was back so soon, she shrugged.

"He did not seem interested in seeing me."

Katrina smoothed her thumb over the witch's glass, considering what she wanted to see. Picturesque images from her youth by now were boring, and there was no point in torturing herself by scrying Ichabod. But she craved the magic, needed it to punch through the dangerously comfortable rhythm of her life and clear her head.

Her mind wandered, drifting over the last few days, and settling onto the sudden distance between her and Abraham's horse. She thought about the last few things she had said to him, complimenting him, talking about the snow, mentioning Jeremy.

Katrina sat up straight. She had been right. It had been ages since she had seen her son. She knew she probably shouldn't, but her mind latched onto him and then the magic was flying through the air. Within moments, she saw Jeremy in the glass. He was turned away from her, working at some sort of table. Before she could figure out where he was, Jeremy straightened. He turned to look at her, a cunning smile on his face.

Katrina dragged in a breath as she watched him mouth words, and then suddenly she could hear him.

"Hello, Mother," he said, voice lazy as ever. "I was wondering how long it would take before you sought me out."

She opened her mouth to snap back, but then realized the spell he cast probably only worked one way. And what did he mean? Why was he waiting for her, was he trying to prove some point? Surely, there was no way this could validate any suspicions he undoubtedly had about her loyalty to the Witnesses. So why—

"When Abraham told me to stay away from his family home, I knew you would become distressed, but a man's home is the last place he had power, wouldn't you agree? And I thought it only right to respect his wishes."

Katrina stared at him, unsure what to say for a long moment. Abraham had forbidden him from coming to the coach house, that was why he had been absent for so long? But why?

"Of course, I never thought he would take having you all to himself so seriously, but I'm glad to see we can still have our little chats, one way or another."

Katrina dropped the witch's glass. She wasn't sure if it slipped or she cast it away, but she heard it hit the table, and then fall to the floor with a heavy thunk.

She leaned over to pick it up, hands shaking slightly as they closed around it. The spell had broken, leaving an echo of magic in the glass. She suddenly felt sickened by it.

Abraham had kept Jeremy away. Because he didn't like her seeing him, or because he couldn't stand her being around him? Obviously, he wasn't worried about the negative influence her son could pose, no, it had to be uglier than that. This was—

"Katrina," Abraham called, voice light. She stood up, and set the glass on the table. Katrina walked to the center of the room as he came down the hall. She did not smile when she saw him.

"There you are," he said. Confusion was sifting into hot shock, making her breath come faster and the facts hum in her head. Something akin to betrayal was starting to form on her tongue, and Katrina knew it was unwise, but she also knew that she could not ignore it.

"Why have you been keeping Jeremy away from the coach house?" she asked, the words cutting through the air before she had time to think.

Abraham's expression fell into something dark. It was almost shocking, how quickly he could shift to displeasure. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened just enough to remind her of a sneer.

"Why are you bringing this up now?" he asked, voice cool. The words 'how did you know' hovered on his tongue.

"I scried him," she said, gesturing at the table where the witch's glass sat. She moved closer, even as Abraham's eyes flicked to the table. His expression soured further.

"You scried him?"

"Yes. And he told me that you ordered him to stay away. He seemed to believe—well, I don't know what," Katrina said, challenging him, daring him to say the words aloud. Abraham's jaw ticked. Katrina did not step back.

"Why have you been keeping my son way from me?"

Abraham didn't answer, just stared at her.

"He's my son," she continued. "You know what he means to me, what I hope to possibly gain. And yet you—"

"He has no intent in sharing what you are looking for."

"I'm well aware!" Katrina snapped. She stared at him for a moment, then whirled away. She stalked deeper the room, winding through furniture and giving herself space. Fiery indignation was catching in her belly, and she needed room to think, to breathe without spreading sparks.

"I was only aiming to keep you safe."

"By isolating me!" Katrina yelled, then fell still. She blinked, realization stumbling through her.

"That's it," she said voice soft, then getting much louder. "You've been isolating me, keeping Jeremy away. You have been keeping me all for yourself, doing everything to avoid having to share me with someone else!"

Abraham didn't say anything, just stalked toward her. Katrina quickly moved away, keeping half the room and a few pieces of furniture between them. His footsteps were punching into her, making her knees weak.

"And it hasn't just been with Jeremy, either," she continued, words coming out in a flurry, like she might never be able to say them again. "That's why your men have all but stopped coming here."

"I didn't need them," he said, voice tight.

"Didn't need me caring for anyone else!" she yelled at him, a slightly hysteric laugh cutting through the air.

Her hands were clenched on the back of a chair, though Katrina wasn't sure if it was to keep her upright, or from doing something stupid. Abraham stood alone, big and solid and too much to fight. Katrina knew she couldn't beat him, but she would certainly leave him bloody and bruised.

"Abraham, you can't just do this, you can't keep me here, stolen and secret! I chose to stay, I've proved I want to be here."

"Yes, as you are so quick to point out."

"Does my desire to stay mean nothing?" she demanded, feeling a little stung. His hands were slowly flexing at his side, shadowing the action of grabbing an axe handle.

He wouldn't dare.

"Or do you think me so fickle, so shallow as to be ready to fling myself thoughtlessly at any attention presented?"

"It's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?!"

"You are mine, Katrina!" he yelled, hands clenched into fists, now. "Moloch set you aside for me, and I will not allow some—"

"Moloch," Katrina spat. "Moloch does not control me, and you certainly do not choose how I live my life, now or ever! Is this some sort of preventive measure to keep from repeating what happened last time? Your haste pushed me to Ichabod, so now you are keeping me away from others, so you may do as you like with no fear of how I may react?"

Abraham grit his teeth, and he truly looked angry now, the cool edge of irritation breaking at the mention of the past. Katrina let out another harsh laugh, because it was a petty little victory that she cherished completely. It was also an incredibly reckless move, and absolutely terrified her.

"You don't even trust your horse," Katrina scoffed, then her eyes went wide when she realized what she had said. Abraham's expression closed off at that, saying she was exactly right. She glanced down, gave another laugh to show how not scared she was, tried to not let the truth knock her over. When she spoke, her words were slow and shaky, but she saw just how they sank into his chest.

"You are so paranoid as to doubt your own horse, a creature that is practically a part of your own soul. It explains why you were so quick to join me whenever I visited him! It was all to make sure that my bond with him never outweighed the one with you!"

That was why he had kissed her in the stables, aggressive and bold and right in the horse's face. That was why Abraham had looked him right in the eye, silently saying she is mine.

"Well?" she demanded. "Do you deny it?"

"What does it matter," he ground out, teeth clenched around the words. Katrina let out sound of disbelief, part shocked huff, part indignant shriek.

"What does it—this is my life!" she screamed at him, grabbing a vase and hurling it at him. It sailed perilously near his head, but Abraham didn't even flinch. He stalked toward her, but Katrina moved with him, keeping the distance between them.

"This is you stealing my right to decide, because you selfishly, arrogantly believe that I cannot be trusted to make these decisions on my own!"

She flung a book at him next, needing something more, something else to let out the righteous fire in her lungs.

"How dare you! This is my life," she repeated, tears forming in her eyes, now. "I refuse to let you control it!"

Abraham cut the distance between them, ignoring the things flying through the air. Katrina kept backing away, grabbing a heavy book end and hurling it at his head. He caught it, the sound flat and hard in his hand. He slid his eyes back to her, expression of complete ice.

She stared at him, panting and sensing that this was a line she was not supposed to cross. Katrina whirled on her heel, and stalked to her bedroom.

"Don't you dare follow me!" she yelled, slamming her bedroom door shut.

The Horseman's heavy gait reached her ears, and Katrina shoved herself away from the door. She faced him as he knocked the door back open, glaring full force as he stormed in. Katrina hated the way she backed up toward the wall, but his presence threatened to crush her into the floor.

Abraham slammed her against the wall, holding her up so that her feet left the floor. He pinned her there with his body, hand clenched around her jaw.

Abraham kissed her, hard and angry. He forced his lips against the corner of her mouth, and she knew it was meant to hurt. He pulled his face back, but still pressed against her, keeping her in place, keeping her helpless. His eyes dared her to try yelling at him again.

He let go of her, roughly letting her drop. Katrina gasped as her feet hit the floor, but forced herself to stay upright. The Horseman was already stalking out of the room.

AN I've always known what direction I wanted this story to go in (which was 'not good'), but while writing this chapter, all I could think was 'This is not good. I am writing a not good thing. This is not good'. It was needed to reaffirm that noooooooothing about any of this in any way is healthy, but igh.

(The kiss in the stables feels very perverse to me. I'm not sure how I feel about physical affection used as a powerplay against animals. I mean, I know the context. But still. That's what he did. Just let that sink in.)