This is what I get for being trusting.

I tried to shake the crimson memories of what had just transpired from my mind, feeling on edge as I stared forward, not bothering to try to escape from my current predicament as I was led through the hall. My frown deepened as I saw more Saddle Arabians emptying my rucksack, one of them shaking my bag of quarters and smiling greedily at the sound.

A shank in the back. A betrayal from the one person I’d been growing to trust the most in this damned place.

We approached the grand doors of La Casa Blanca, the sounds of hoofsteps and boots clacking on the marble floors as they echoed through the strangely silent interior.

A loss of my freedom, bound here and uncertain of the future.

I saw, from behind the mass of guards, that a certain maid was watching apprehensively as I was led along. I glanced over to see Marzia giving me a concerned look. My gaze went back to the floor.

It’s about time I fucking woke up.

I didn’t bother looking at Dust Petal or Flash Sentry as I passed. Dust appeared to be just a tad downtrodden, a stark contrast to Flash’s stoic gaze. The two were standing guard at the doors, pulling them open as my entourage and I drew near. I gave the two a glare that promised retribution and a world of hurt, Flash gesturing with his head for me to continue and Arib prodding me with his scimitar to encourage me to keep walking.

I complied, walking outside to see that I was awaited by none other than the source of all of this recent madness, Prince Yahguul. He was slender, even more so than the other Red Garbs I’d seen, and he was just a mite shorter than Sarib. He had enough jewelry to sink a small canoe around his neck and forehooves, and a golden-threaded red keffiyeh covered his head. He smiled as he saw me walk down the steps, Sarif leading the group and giving a small bow to Prince Yahguul as we approached. The others did the same as he approached us, looking up to me.

“You are quite the sight to see. A big lad you are, eh?”

“For you.” I growled.

The Prince chuckled. “You will do, you will do. I still do not see the threat he could possibly possess, Captain,” he said, looking to Sarif.

“I have buried enough brothers in the desert to testify for it, my Prince. I suggest against taking him lightly, despite his odd appearance,” said Sarif as he stood back to his full height. “When I so foolishly did, I lost two good stallions.”

Prince Yahguul’s smile remained despite that news. I’d assumed Sarif had already talked with him about it over tea or something, which accounted for him not looking surprised in the slightest.

“Well tragic as it may be, we all must make sacrifices in order to get what we want, Captain Sarif, be it time, gold, or even soldiers.” A small scowl appeared on Sarif’s face at the Prince’s callous dismissal of the lives of his ponies. “I would say the reward was well worth all of that, however. All we need concern ourselves with now is the fact that the creature is here, ready to be transported to Saddle Arabia. Mother Alimada will be most pleased with this yield, Balukbasi Sarif, most pleased indeed!” All of this was said as the Prince scrutinized me, noting every detail of my face and stature. It was becoming more than a mite disturbing being stripped by almost every creature I came across.

The Prince ran a hoof along the underside of his clean-shaven (for a pony) chin as he hummed. “A fine specimen. I may just have to work with this one personally, Mother willing.” And now he was tip-toeing to Hawkeye territory. “Now, for the sake of conversation and intrigue, have you a name, creature?”

Though surprised that he had only a moment ago called me a ‘specimen’ prior to flipping and addressing me again as though I were an intelligent being, I was content to focus on anything but the spilled blood that I could not for the life of me unsee. My answer was rather short. “Ladarion.”

“Ladarion?” Repeated Yahguul. “ Ladarion, Ladarion… Fascinating! It rolls from the tongue quite differently than any name I have ever uttered.”

Arib butted in to share his two cents. “It is quite an interesting name, Prince Yahguul. I thought the same when he told me of it.”

Nodding, Prince Yahguul moved to respond before a loud clearing of the throat cut them off. “Ahem. Back to the topic at hoof, my prince?” he suggested in a strained voice.

“Ah, yes, my apologies. My eagerness derails my organization of thought sometimes. But I digress; that will have to wait for later.” Turning to me, he continued. “As you have no doubt gathered, this little arrangement of ours was made possible entirely by the cooperation of the good Queseque Blanca. Speaking of, where is the lad?”

“He has stated that he does not wish to be disturbed at present, my Prince,” said Arib.

Yahguul looked surprised at that. “Truly? Well, I will leave him to his own devices for the time being if that is the case; death in the family is never easy to overcome, I fear.”

“My Prince, while it is good to see that you are happy with the circumstances, shall we depart?” suggested Sarif, impatience on his voice.

Yahguul waved a hoof dismissively, chuckling.“Nay, Captain. I will be staying here for a while longer. There is more business here that requires my attention before I may return satisfied.” A greedy eye went back to appraising my binded form. “And as for you, Ladarion, I very much look forward to seeing you again. You are a riveting specimen, and I would be elated to see just how you tick when the Queen is through observing you herself. Our fun will be of the sort you will never forget! Now, as you may, Captain.”

Sarif and his two guards bowed, noses in the dirt. As he rose, Sarif spoke. “Farewell, Prince Yahguul. May the tide of the sands guide you.” Yahguul nodded, turning and discussing something on the topic of a commemorative gift to cement his and Queseque’s ‘mutually beneficial relationship’. A load of bull, it sounded to me, but then again I was finding it hard to care about anything going on in this damned town.

I was led to the Blanca gate, the object that once separated and protected me from the Saddle Arabians, only to find it open and crawling with the bastards. Beautiful. Was I scared out of my mind? Yes. Was I uncertain of what would become of me? Of course. Was I terrified at the prospect of being an enslaved display? Oh, absolutely.

Was I surprised that that fleeting moment of happiness and security had been ripped away from me, though…? No. No, not in the slightest.

“I want the creature bound in iron when we depart!” shouted Sarif to the contingent of guards standing at attention on the other side of the gate. God, there were dozens of them! What the hell kind of operation required that many henchmen? Oh, right, they were slave traders, and I was their latest catch. Yippee. They brought what appeared to be a windowless chariot with them as well, supposedly to help with their illegal transportation of ‘goods’ and such. Scum, the lot of them were. I thought I would have felt worse at having apparently taken not just one life, but two, albeit indirectly, but considering it was in self defense in addition to it being to degenerates who profit off of enslaving and selling others? I felt rather justified in that case. Didn’t stop a certain feeling of sickness from embedding itself in my stomach, but that may have been a result of Queseque’s betrayal and the vivid memory of him murdering Nahive that played over and over again in my mind.

“Leave him no room for comfort, and all risk of escape shall be noted and mended to ensure such an act is impossible! You!” Sarif pointed to one of the soldiers. “Fly ahead to alert the caravan to our approach! Ensure the company commander is aware of my wish to speak with him! You! ready the stocks! The rest of you! in formation!” He shouted a bunch of other commands that I wasn’t in the mood to keep an ear open for as the groups split and trotted into different directions, some toward the mansion and others into the path set for the city.

I was, however, mindful of the fact that the twenty-four strong group of thugs surrounded me and began walking in formation in a random direction in the desert. The doors to the chariot were opened and I was forced into it after a couple of guards snapped a pair of proper metal shackles that clanged and dragged along the ground around my wrists. Three guards crowded into the hot, cramped area after me, presumably to keep watch over the violent prisoner. I wasn’t going to do anything.

At the moment, I felt rather demoralized, The fact that I was still on this world wherein seemingly everything as trying to kill me; the constant fight for survival; the forces at play that I wasn’t able to comprehend that were responsible for my misery; not to mention my inability to at least tell someone at home that I wasn’t dead… yet. This all weighed me down at every moment of every day; every breath I took could be my last. I just wanted off this fucking rock. I just wanted to go home.

Usually, I didn’t have to think too much about just how little hope there was in my situation because I was in the middle of trying to stay alive, but it was becoming more and more obvious that nothing here could be trusted. I try to leave Mufasa alone, he returns and mauls me. I try to eat an apple, I get tossed out of a tree and nearly break my neck. I meet a few strangers in the desert, next I’m drugged and held captive. I hang out with a seemingly chill pony against all common sense to try to relax for just a second, and I’m in chains being dragged off to who knows where.

Hell, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if Salamsala didn’t keep his end of the deal. It was rather vague, after all. ‘Keep it up, kid. Just let the hate flow through you.’ Sums up our conversation quite nicely. And how was I to know if Daring wouldn’t just go on her merry way without me regardless of her saying she’d wait up? I wasn’t even expecting a realistic way out of this that didn’t end with me being turned into a human pincushion if I tried running away.

Ugh.

Either way, those thoughts of helplessness and uncertainty, combined with the sanity-rending claws of fate accompanied me in my uneasy rest. By the time I closed my eyes, I couldn’t shake the memory of the bloodied blade. I felt something warm in the palm of my hand, then a numbness crept up my arm and clouded my mind.

Hello again, fog. My one true friend...

Author's Notes:

It's been far too long. I suppose that with Reverie Bound's one year anniversary we should get this show back on the road. This short chapter's meant to get me back into the groove of things, and to serve as a bridge for longer, more exciting installments in the future.