My Entry - The Centaur's Ball

"No, I won't! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Do not ask me again," he said, his hooves ringing on the stone floors of the castle, anger apparent in every step.

"But, Linius, if you do not, then what will our guests think? Do you wish to be thought ill of all your life? With the Centaur's Ball but a few days away, we must have it finished. Without you, it will be nigh impossible to complete in time." His bride of less than a month almost wept in frustration.

Since before they were wed, her friends (or some would say former friends) had urged her to rethink the impossible life she would suffer with a Centaur. Ah, they never saw him, standing like a bronze statue, muscles rippling o'er his chest, long hair trailing down his back unless the wind blew. Then it swept around him in a storm of its own, giving him a wildness even his birth had not imprinted.

Stopping, he turned back to her, his full lips thinned with aggravation at her insistence. He found it difficult to be angry when he looked upon her. Long, lingering red curls framed a face of ivory. Only naturally pink cheeks and flashing green eyes added to her color. Never had the latest false cheek and lip rouges touched her impeccable skin. Honesty shone from those emerald orbs, except for today. Today, tears neared the surface and her normal cheerful demeanor lay buried under dismay and her inability to understand his refusal.

"I have no reason to impress people outside this house, nay outside this room! I am the leader of the centaurs; obeyed by creatures quite capable of destroying the puny humans. I refuse to demean myself and you by pressing to get in their good graces. They should be begging us for acceptance! Nay, Gabrielle, under no circumstances will I bow to them. Ask me no more." His horsetail switched in fury at the thought of her request.

"My lord, I know you are a leader among leaders. I wish not for you to do this thing for their enjoyment, but to please me, your wife, who cherishes you more with every passing moment, nothing more." She sank into a heavy wooden chair, her skirts flowing prettily about her.

Walking slowly back to his beloved, he reached out to touch the flames of her hair, twisting a thick curl around his finger. His fiery anger turned to ashes and with a deep sigh, he promised.

"I shall wear the waistcoat, shirt and vest at the Centaur's Ball, but well bloodied will be the first who dares laugh in ridicule.