#necie's first drabble

[neciebee]

This drabble is only vaguely tangential to the prompt, but that's what prompts are for. Right? Right?

First time posting a drabble. I'm overstimulated again and I punched this out to quell my roiling brain. No idea how long it is, I just made words go after, before, or between other words. Hounds are involved.

The bond between a smokehound and its master is immutable once formed. Fae and beast hunted with one mind, one heart, one soul. They shared their meals, their spaces, their lives. Smokehounds were so rare, many believed them a myth. To have been chosen by one of these ethereal entities was to have been blessed by the Mother.

When Eris first found the tiny wisp of a whelp, he knew his future would be vastly different from what he had previously planned. There was no other sound in the forest; not even the whisper of winds through leaves red as his hair disturbed this poignant moment. It was as though the land of Autumn held its breath for the Heir to accept his Companion. There had not been a smokehound in the Royal Court for millennia. The last was the legendary Cerberus, who - with his High Lord master - oversaw four hundred years of smouldering peace.

Nowadays, all known bonded smokehounds accompanied so-called 'lesser fae' - creatures so in tune with nature that one might think they were avatars of the forests, fields, and fjords. Rarely heard and never seen, the faefolk and their elemental beasts stewarded the most magic-imbued enclaves of the Autumn Realm. Smokehounds were thoroughly Autumn, and they elected their masters as such.

Eris held the tiny creature to his heart, appreciating the enormity of his gift from the Mother. Autumn had chosen him.

~

The second smokehound was no more of a surprise than the first. Though bony and lean, the wild, savage hound took down a puca that Eris and Artaban had been tracking through the forest. At first, the Heir thought the animal a manifestation of illusory puca magic. When the hound laid the carcass at his feet and its intelligent eyes met his, he knew he had been granted an unprecedented second blessing.

The Court was in uproar when he attended the throne room with both hounds in tow. Not even his High Lord father, Beron, could say a word against the holy union between the Autumn Heir and the Autumn Protectors. The Mother will do as she Wills.

~

Five centuries since he laid eyes on his first pup, he was called before the throne. Nine hounds shadowed his steps in refined formation. He approached his father, High Lord of Autumn, and graciously bent to one knee.

"Eris," spoke the High Lord in a high, snide tone. "Eris, Eris, Eris. It seems you are more mutt than prince these days." He surveyed the assemblage coldly, though Eris could taste the undercurrent of jealousy in his words. Autumn had not bestowed its High Lord many favours throughout the centuries, and he was loath to wonder why.

"I assure you, Lord Father, that every last one of my hounds has the purest power of Autumn's Holy Protectors." Each of his nine hunters had come to him as an evocation of Autumn's old magic, chosen as a custodian of the Kingdom of Fall and Flame.

"I would not begrudge you Artaban, nor even Bellamy - though plural bonding is unprecedented. The Mother has deemed you a dog, and a dog must have his pack. But capturing nine mutts is vulgar! You are flaunting your avarice before Nature and the Gods!"

Eris smoothed one hand down Artaban's sleek crown. His first hound was the most devoted, the most protective, the most vicious. "Until I stop encountering Autumn Vitae in need of their true master, I will be taking care of my twelve hounds."

Beron shot from his throne, nearly tumbling down the dais. "HOW DO YOU ALREADY HAVE THREE MORE? WHERE ARE THEY?" His puce visage became mottled with anger... and fear.

The picture in Eris mind coalesced upon the three new additions to his pack. No... four. Wagging tails and wet snouts overcame the gleeful grasping of scarred hands. Eyes of hazel lit up with elation as they beheld the infantile howling of unweaned, furry beans. Fat, stubby paws padded unforgivingly over the sensitive membranes of Illyrian wings. The sounds from the shadowsinger's throat would either end him, or fuel him for countless eons.

Eris raised his hands in a signal to his pack of loyal and lethal hounds. "The pups are with my mate," he said plainly, as nine shadowhounds tore Autumn's Menace apart.

~

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"you know you are only supposed to have 1 apprentice maybe 2 not 15." said the wizard council member "well until people stop leaving surprisingly powerful orphans at my doorstep I'll be taking care of my 17 apprentices." The council member snapped their wand "WHERE DID YOU GET 3 MORE!"