d'Artagnan

the

NightShade

Meetings; the tedious time in his life when he gathered with his fellow kin to listen to those who would name themselves Lord and Lady. Crowns for the fit and the unfit, it didn’t matter really, in all his six years there had been monarchs come and go. Only the greatest stuck in memory and the rest fell to the wayside. It was a job d’Artagnan never sought, never wanted, a crown was a burden not a privilege and the Nightshade knew he would serve the Basin worst with a lofty title stuck to his already notorious name. Still, he sometimes looked at the leaders past and present, wondering if he was following the right road, were these horses still his kin? It had changed so much, the Plague had all but dispersed and Kou had left him to roam the frost land alone. They had taken part in a battle for the Hidden Falls and won the capture of Oxy, the shade was quite content with that, but what else? They sent good horses south for what, an old grudge? The Doctor was game for taking revenge as much as the next old guard, but what was the point when they returned with nothing but one prisoner. Still, he had gone missing during the build up to it and couldn’t really complain as they had captured the horse he had so fervently sought, so his lips would remain sealed. Even d’Artagnan knew when he had no say in matters.

He gathered as ordered by Deimos, a Lord he could say would live in his memory, though he had been unsure of his old friend rising to such a position at first. The Reaper had earned his title in the Doctor's mind. Aramis was by his side, watching proceedings with a bored gaze, companions weren’t generally needed in such gatherings, but d’Artagnan liked him there to at least complain at. So the hellion indulged his bonded’s bad habit.

One brow rose to the departure of Ophelia and the shade shrugged, the removal of a hybrid from Ladyship was not unwelcome news to the shade, although he seemed to be lingering in a minority over the species debate. Where had she gone anyway? What was the point of her Leadership if she was simply going to renounce her title, or perhaps this was all just one sick joke to her?

From then on, the meeting seemed to go a little downhill and d’Artagnan stared at the Reaper with tired, solemn eyes. There was a moment, however, in the announcement of new leads that he turned to a familiar mare and a small smile rose to his lips. "Remember that rough diamond we found in the Steppe with that weird tiger hybrid" he motioned to Aramis and the dog laughed along "look what happened!" the Doctor exclaimed looking at Hotaru. In hope, he willed her to continue her seemingly good progress. The other, Thranduil, was a name he had heard, but not a stallion he had spoken to. Three leads. Was this a wise choice or indecision?

Next, alliances, why must they be joined with the world, the Doctor hoped that in this new turn they wouldn’t grow complacent. Being so isolated had made them powerful, feared; it was the only way d’Artagnan knew how to survive, both in this world and his old one. They played up the battle. Victory this and victory that, this wasn’t victory, they had been mercenaries and under paid ones at that. The shade wanted the prisoner and the land, not one or the other. Greatness wasn’t winning one battle and returning to the exiled mountains, it was winning many battles and taking back what was theirs. Yet, the thought occurred to him again, maybe this Basin was no longer the Basin of old.

Poison is in everything, and no thing is without poison. The dosage makes it either a poison or a remedy.