Centaur short story.
All characters are owned by me.
The day that beautiful mare walked into his life, Cyrus knew that he would never be the same. The second he saw her, standing beside a tall, dark stallion, he couldn’t look away. She captivated him in a way he’d never known was possible.
The mare’s eyes had watched him shyly when he’d entered the room, her cheeks flushing slightly as she looked him over. Cyrus couldn’t help showing off a bit, shaking his long black hair out of his blue eyes and standing taller.
He knew that she knew he was showing off by the smile that had tugged at her ruby lips as she stared at him. Her crystal blue eyes sparkled with a radiance that tugged at his soul.
But then Cyrus remembered the stallion standing beside her. She probably was married to him, and thus unavailable. But then he took a closer look at her appearance. Her hair was long and as black as the darkest of nights, and flowed down her shoulders like a waterfall. Her coat was a glossy black, gleaming in the rays of the sun.
But Cyrus’ appraisal was interrupted by his sire appearing to escort the pair inside the palace. As the mare turned to follow the stallion inside, Cyrus caught sight of her braided tail, his eyes widening.
For those unfamiliar with Centaur customs, a braided tail meant that a mare was unmarried, while an unbraided tail, long and flowing, meant that the mare had a mate.
Now, he noticed the small similarities the mare had with the stallion. They shared the same glossy coat and hair, and some ****** features, Cyrus realized. It quickly became clear that the mare was probably the daughter of the stallion.
Hope flared within him as he followed them through the enormous marble doors, down a cool hallway into a large clearing, the palace garden, which was partially shaded by a wooden dome.
Cyrus watched from a distance as the mare’s sire moved away from her, conversing with his own sire about royal affairs, or something along those lines. He’d eavesdropped on enough of his Uncle Beau’s conversations to know that was always what was discussed in these situations.
So instead, he turned his gaze toward the mare, who was examining some of the blooms growing along the pathways of the garden. He meandered over, his hooves making soft thudding noises on the grass, while he tried to seem like he had just happened to take the same
path as her.
Walking up beside her, he felt butterflies erupt in his stomach. He wasn’t sure he actually had the courage to speak to her, now that he was in this situation. But it was too late to back out now, as the mare’s gaze lifted from the flower (a pink Calathea to be specific), to his face, her crystal blue eyes curious.
Cyrus decided to make the first move, nodding his head to her. “Good morning, My Lady.” He said, deciding that the use of a title would be smart. Royalty easily got offended if addressed with a lower title.
The mare smiled, her cheeks turning just the slightest shade of pink, like the Calathea she’d plucked from the stem and now held in her hands.
“Good morning to you, My Lord.” She said, and Cyrus had the idea that she didn’t know who he was. All the better then; she wouldn’t be fawning over him like every other young filly he’d met.
An awkward silence filled the air around them as Cyrus struggled to find something else to talk about.
“So… um… ah… What brings you to the Lothlorien Kingdom? I see your sire is here with you?” Cyrus fumbled, making the mare’s smile widen at his falterings.
“That is correct. My sire’s dam is the daughter of Crown Prince Tahir. My sire is taking care of business for him. I wanted to come along, and so here I am.” She said, and Cyrus nodded, realizing he’d never asked her name.
“Can I have the honor of knowing your name?” Cyrus asked, his voice quiet. The mare cocked her head slightly to the side as she smiled at him for a moment before turning back to the flower.
“Kyla. What is yours?”
Cyrus’ breath hitched at the name. It was beautiful, and fit the mare perfectly. He was about to answer her, when his sire’s voice rang out behind him, causing him to jump in surprise.
Cyrus turned around at the call of his name, and watched as his sire trotted up with Kyla’s right behind him.
“Are you entertaining our guest here? I trust you have not been boring Kylo’s daughter?” His sire teased good-naturedly, a twinkle in his eye as he looked between Cyrus and Kyla.
Kylo chuckled, a grin spreading across his face. “Blaise, I think the young colt’s smitten with my daughter.” He laughed, and Cyrus blushed, making both of the older stallions laugh harder as they winked at Cyrus and trotted off, still chuckling.
Cyrus watched them go, feeling mortified. But then a soft voice cut through his embarrassment, making him turn around to find the source standing behind him.
“You are Prince Cyrus?” Kyla asked, and he nodded sheepishly.
“That is my title, yes. But I prefer to be called Cyrus by pretty mares such as you though.” He said, feeling a rush of horror as the words slipped between his lips. But it was too late to take them back.
Kyla giggled, her laugh like chimes in the wind. “My Pri–I mean, Cyrus, I don’t believe you are as smooth as you think you are.” She laughed, grabbing his hand in hers.
“Why don’t we just pretend we’ve never met before, and that we are both are just a regular colt and filly, out on a picnic.” She said, leading him under the dome.
Cyrus grinned bashfully. “Now that sounds like a good idea.”