Information

Arabellius
Legacy Name: Arabellius

The Cream Neela
Owner: Diadem

Age: 10 years, 5 months, 1 week

Born: December 21st, 2013

Adopted: 10 years, 5 months, 1 week ago

Adopted: December 21st, 2013

Statistics

• Level: 50
   
• Strength: 10
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 2
   
• Books Read: 2
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Beach Comber

Arabellius's hooves clicked on gilded tiles, the finely buffed edges of the nail smoothed so as to not snag the priceless decor. His antlers hang with the lightest silks, his cream coat was brushed to perfection. Ever bit of his body was tailored to the royal attitude and lifestyle, down to his mannerisms. He had been bred to be loyal, cunning, tough, yet good blood from his mother and patience from his father had made him well suited to be the companion to the young prince. The prince, destined to be the son of war and chaos, was born oddly broken for such royal blood. Some said the queen had looked at a pomegranate tree in her pregnancy, others said it was the intermarriage of the royal tree, though the latter was said only in the most hushed of tones in inner circles. While it was true the king has wed his half sister, none questioned it to his face. No matter what the deeper meaning behind the prince's infirmary was, his legs had been born with no strength and he was confined to his bed. Arabellius had morphed from the stable hind he was made to be into a chamber animal, needed for comfort and security. However, he was aware that his position was tenuous, only for looks and replaceable in practice. This, of course, was not supposed to be understood by a sand toned Neela.
Arabellius nudged open the door to the prince's room, a large vaulted and honey combed chamber lit by nearly smokeless oil lamps and decorated by the most detailed of tapestries. The scenes depicted great battles of his people's history, from the battle against the Sand Crawlers to the Great Gretani Rebellion only a few years prior. These land marks of time were intended to strengthen the young prince in mind and soul. Instead, Arabellius had noted, they caused him daily remorse at his own position. With his entrance into the chamber, the two handmaidens that had been attending the prince vanished almost as if by magic. The prince, looking up from his readings, smiled at the Neela, who bowed low in homage.
“Now, Arabellius,” the prince said, looking over his scroll before shutting it. “Tell me the items you have brought me from the courtyard.” The Neela nickered, trotting over to the couch and kneeling. The prince removed the objects stowed in Arabellius's finery nimbly. His eyes smiled at the sea shells and dried figs. “Ah, my love comes through.” The prince sighed, letting the figs rest on his chest. While his lower body was deformed, his upper body had suffered no illness and, Arabellius noted with pride, his charge was growing into a handsome warrior. He smelled the sea shells, his eyes closing in bliss. “Good man, Arabellius!” The prince said, laughing deeply and rubbing behind Arabellius's horns. “Tonight we feast, tomorrow I consult the king on my bride!”

That night, Arabellius lapsed in judgment for the first time in his life. The prince, intoxicated with much new wine and ripe figs and celebration, had dropped into a deep, deep sleep. Arabellius had attempted to stay awake, but he two had allowed himself to become glutted in the festivities. In his clouded judgment, so he believed, he had left the door unlatched. This was to haunt the Neela for nights to come. For when he awoke, he was in the back of a cart with several others like him, with only the desert sun and sand surrounding him and the hoarse voice of a drunk singer filling his ears.
“Oi' on't I knew'd ten someth-n maids-all yell'er in th'y hair,” the voice rambled. Arabellius whinnied, his neck straining against the tethers that strapped him in one spot. The other Neelas, revolting to Arabellius with their matted coats and caked on filth, hardly glanced at them, their spirits broken. The singing stopped. “Oi the'r spir't'd one!” There was a sharp crack. Arabellius felt a splitting pain on his flank, his eyes rimmed with terror. “I was jus' t' the cho'rs!” Arabellius whinnied again, this time in pain. The voice continued it's cracked song. Arabellius wasn't listening. Small tears rolled down along his nose as he watched the sand behind him. He had failed his prince.

Arabellius was unrecognizable two weeks later, strapped to a wheat grinder, his back rubbed raw, his eyes caked with dirt and slime. He spent his night hours in a pile of rancid straw, his water changed once a week if he was lucky. He lasted longer than the others in the cart with him. He had watched as they had fallen at the mill and seen them dispatched by the owner. Their hides made up the newest wares brought to the city the next month. Arabellius plodded forwards, his hooves jagged and rough. The stable maid, the one who brought him dates sometimes, was talking to the overseer.
“I hear the prince is getting married.” The girl said.
“Yeah, odd match isn't it? Some common girl from the city. Breaks traditions.”
“They said he's planning on ruling, what with the king, God rest him, dying.”
“A cripple on the throne, ha!”
“Aaron! Our king's son should not be disrespected like that.”
“Ah shut it!” Aaron snapped, pushing the girl over and laughing. She shouted. Arabellius's eyes got ringed with white. He stopped moving, straining at his bounds. “Looks like the goat is on your side!” Aaron said, picking the girl up and pushing her aside.
Arabellius's halter snapped. He rammed into the man, sending him crashing into the mill. Arabellius paused only to bow low to the maid before taking off across the scorching desert.

Arabellius rested in the shade of his oasis, a small spring located in the Sacred Lands. Many a traveler would have perished if it were not for his aid, for he acted as a guide to those lost. A small penance, in his mind, to pay for betraying his prince. Many called him a spirit, a ba, but Arabellius was not a ghost. He was simply biding his time, preparing for the day when his prince would come through those sands and require his help.

Credits:
Story by User not found: dauntless

Pet Treasure

Pet Friends