He's Such A Pretty Princess For Real - Blog Posts

❛ common interest ❜

note: hope you enjoy anon 💖 ty for requesting!

i really want to write something about charles next bc that man is my legal husband and baby daddy 💞

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"Oh look," Tilly announces, drawing the attention of the other two women. "Here she comes, back into camp."

Karen follows Tilly's gaze and rolls her eyes in distaste. "The Ice Queen herself."

Mary-Beth, who'd had her head buried in a book - sneaking in a few minutes of reading when Grimshaw was off doing something else instead of barking orders at them - looked up with a frown. "That ain't right, Karen. She's just not overly talkative, that's all."

"'Not overly talkative'?" echoes Karen in disbelief. "I don't think I even heard her speak once!"

"Maybe she can't," Mary-Beth suggests empathetically.

Tilly shakes her head, disagreeing. "I seen her over with the horses a few times. Heard her speaking to them."

Karen snorts. "So she can talk to horses but not people? What a freak."

"Karen!" Mary-Beth scolds, glaring disapprovingly at the other woman.

"What? It ain't normal, is all I'm sayin'. Preferring the company of damn horses to people. It ain't right."

Unbeknownst to the three women, chatting away about you, there was another set of ears nearby taking it all in.

Kieran Duffy had been tied to this tree for the better part of a goddamn week. It sure felt longer, with the way his muscles burned from being forced to stay standing on account of the ropes around him and the way his empty stomach ached with a gnawing hunger so consuming that even the dirt was beginning to look appetising.

For the most part, he pleaded with anyone passing by, begging to be set free, or just some water and food. One girl, the younger one - Tilly, he believed her name was - had listened and given him a sip of water, which he'd drank with such euphoria he had to hold back a moan.

The other woman, the one with her head buried in a book half the time when she weren't doing chores - Mary something or other - had quietly come to him when it was dark and fed him a few spoonfuls of their usual stew the camp cook makes for their dinner every evening.

It tasted almost as good as it smelled, and Kieran would know exactly how it smelled because the cruel bastards had tied him to the tree right beside the food wagon to watch as they got their dinner each evening.

Not many other people talked to him or even paid him much attention, other than the men who glared at him with murder in their eyes.

Didn't seem to matter how much he swore he weren't an O'Driscoll. He might as well have been trying to convince them the sky was purple instead of blue. They were convinced he was the enemy, an outsider, and they sure as shit treated him like one.

When the three women gathered near enough that Kieran could overhear them gossiping, he listened eagerly. It wasn't often he could listen in on a conversation to take his mind away from the constant pangs of pain and hunger.

His eyes found the one they were talking about, the one they referred to as the 'Ice Queen'. He weren't quite sure what that meant exactly but he presumed from the rest of the conversation that you didn't mix well with folk here.

You were over by the horses, going from animal to animal, stroking their manes, brushing out their coats, sneaking them some treats of apples and carrots and whatnot. From this distance it was hard to tell but he thought he could just about make out your mouth moving as you spoke to the horses.

If he hadn't been tied to a tree for days on end, left to starve and dehydrate, he would've found the sight a lot more endearing. As it was, he didn't have much energy left for endearing.

So he simply filed the information away for later, if there would be a later provided the men of the gang didn't carve him up and add him to the goddamn stew.

The thought caused him to grimace.

Fortunately, they didn't kill him.

Once Kieran led them to where some of the O'Driscolls were hiding out (after they'd threatened to castrate him, mind you) and he'd saved the life of the feller called Arthur, they'd taken a slightly more kinder approach to him.

Even let him stay with them after he'd argued he had nowhere else to go. If he left, Colm and his boys would surely catch up with him and kill him for squealing.

Even though the Van der Linde gang hadn't treated him all too kindly, staying with them was his best option for survival.

They didn't fully trust him enough to let him in on any robberies and schemes, which suited Kieran just fine. He found himself gravitating towards the horses, a natural instinct for him.

He'd always loved horses, even when he was riding with the O'Driscolls he'd look after all the horses and make sure they were fed, clean and healthy. The only reason Kieran figured they hadn't cut him loose back then was because he'd taken such good care of their steeds.

Kieran ran a hand over the smooth coat of a Blood Bay Thoroughbred, admiring the glossy red colour. It was a beautiful mare, calm and friendly, and it seemed to take him to him fairly quick in comparison to the other horses.

Dutch's horse, the Count, had kicked him when he wasn't careful enough and even tried to nip at him a few times.

"Yeah, you're a good girl, ain't ya?" Kieran murmured to the horse, feeding it an apple. "A lot nicer than that nasty Count, that's for damn sure."

The sound of a twig snapping from behind made him freeze and whirl around, expecting to be met by one of the male members of the gang glaring at him. Instinctively, his hands twitched to cover his crotch.

But it wasn't a man.

"O-oh," Kieran stuttered, visibly surprised (and a little more than relieved). He quickly took his hands off his crotch. "Um...hi."

You blinked, face impassive.

Kieran gulped, feeling his nerves grow under your steady, stoic gaze. "U-um, it's Kieran. I - I mean, that's my name, is, uh, Kieran. Not that you're Kieran, obviously you ain't a Kieran, you're a woman and I don't think women are called Kieran - not that there's anything wrong with a woman being called Kieran, o' course, but I just don't think it's a pretty enough name is all..."

The silence was deafening.

Kieran felt mortified. His face was on fire, his hands were clammy and trembling, and his throat was constricted, making his breathing a little shallower.

Then, almost interciptively, the corner of your mouth twitched. A glint of amusement flitted across your eyes. "You sure talk a lot."

The man grimaced, still feeling utterly embarrassed by his idiotic, anxious rambling. "I--I'm sorry, miss, I didn't mean to, I just - I guess I'm still a little nervous."

Instead of turning away in disgust and ignoring him, you held out your hand and offered him a carrot.

Kieran blinked, taken aback. His mind whirred with endless possibilities on why you might be giving him a random vegetable - and how to politely say thank you without seeming as completely bewildered as he felt inside.

It must have shown on his face because the corners of your lips lifted further, forming an amused smile that made the corners of your eyes crease. "It's for Leyla."

It took a moment to register that you were talking about the horse.

"Oh, right, o' course! Um, I didn't realise her name was Leyla." Kieran gingerly accepts carrot from you and offers it to the horse, who gratefully gobbles it down, making sounds of approval.

You smile fondly. "Named her after a dog I had when I was a kid."

His brows raise in shock as your words register. "She's yours?"

"Mhm," you hum in response with a nod. "Best damn girl in the entire country - ain't ya, Ley?"

Leyla, as if in agreement, stomped her hooves and swished her tail.

Kieran huffs a warm chuckle at the horses reaction. He had no idea she belonged to you. If he had, well, he doesn't think he could've treated her better, she was already getting a few more treats and brushes than the other steeds.

"You like horses then?" You ask nonchalantly, stepping around him to gently scratch under Leyla's muzzle.

Kieran cleared his throat, taking a step back, giving you some room. Being so close to you made him feel all jittery inside. "Uh, sure, yeah, I- I like horses as much as the next feller."

"It's nice, isn't it? To be around creatures who don't make you feel judged or make you second guess yourself."

A smile spread on Kieran's mouth as he nodded in agreement. "It is."

As you and the Duffy man continued to make conversation about the horses, you were unaware of three pairs of eyes on you from across camp.

"The first time she speaks to a human being and it's the O'Driscoll?" Karen hisses as she, Tilly and Mary-Beth watch in disbelief.

"I guess they both really like horses," Mary-Beth murmurs, and Tilly nods, agreeing with her.

The trio of women continue to watch on in intense intrigue as you and Kieran host a spirited discussion for what seems like hours.

Before that day, they'd rarely, if ever, seen you smile.

After that day, when they'd catch you talking to Kieran again, they swore they'd never seen you smile as much.

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note: fun fact. i called the reader's horse after my own dog and she is also, in fact, the best damn girl 🐾💓