Official Mascot Backstories Thread!

Please post below your Mascot's Backstory!
Share with the rest of HP how your Mascot came to be/who they are/what's been going on with their lives/fictional/non-fictional, etc.
Include their Name & ID# in your post!

A separate thread post is required per mascot entry!

Backstories are due on Sunday March 19th!
Failure to post in here by the due date will equal in an immediate disqualification!

Please wait to post any backstories until sign-ups have closed and the training portion of the contest starts!

GRIEF (ID #388498)

This owner is now bereft and bewildered, their pet has gone to sleep,

The early years were tough and hard, your memories we will keep.

Training was tough and sometimes frustrating, you always tried your best,

We went through the woods and in the sea, the heartache in my chest.

You helped me train the younger one, and taught them naughty habits,

The way you loved to prance and dance, you scared the silly rabbits.

Adventures were had as we explored, down paths long forgotten,

You fell in to the muddy stream, the smell it was so rotten.

The best times were when we just sat, staring out at the horizon,

No stress or pressure, we simply were, the sun slowly rising.

The time draws closer, we both knew, but I didn't really think,

So many years and thoughts and dreams, could be over in a blink.

The years crept on and we got older, time stole my breath away,

It's now too late, to hug you close and wish for you to stay.

The grief I feel is sharp and sudden, it never goes away

It lingers there in the dark, each and every day.

Today an angel gained their wings

It was too soon for me

Welcome to DOGWARTS ! You’ve found yourself in the RAVENPAW’S COMMON ROOM where you spot GRANGER, the Neopolitan Mastiff, lounging happily on a chaise by the main window. Granger ,as you can imagine, is Rose and Hugo Granger-Weasley’s dog. Granger is the daughter of FANG , who you may remember is the late Hagrid’s companion. Granger is no stranger to the wizarding world as the Minister of Magic, HERMIONE GRANGER-WEASLEY , stumbled upon Granger in the Magical Menagerie and immediately adopted her as the family pet! Granger is your typical Ravenpaw; clever, quick to learn new tricks, and always earning Top Dog marks! She looks forward to seeing each of you cheer for her on the QUIDDOG FIELD as she chases the golden bone!

Beware! All who travel!

Pandemonium #388843

Neither lost... nor found, neither alive... nor dead... we will find Pandemonium wandering planet Earth reeking havoc in every corner of the world. He travels alone yet is far from loneliness. He finds peace and comfort in the choas and destruction he brings to the people and creatures he finds in his wake. The volcanos errupting spewing their hot lava on the islands, devasting winds from the mighty hurricanes in the south, furious floodwaters and wildfires in the west, are all a part of the sick game he plays...

Yet, no one quite knows why he is the way he is... perhaps it is the post-war turmoils... the ptsd from past wars that he tries so hard to forget. Day in and day out he is haunted by the what-nots and have-beens. He had fought and served valiantly in many a war past - yet those he served with, and for always seemed to be forgetful of his heroic actions. Perhaps this is why he turned to creating such much disorder. Who could blame him? He saved countless lives... all at the cost of his sanity.

Now, when you see all the storm headlines that make the news either on television or the front page of the newspaper, you will know it comes from Pandemonium. When he gallops across the hard earth, hoof striking ground - lightning strikes with it. When he calls out in the night - his battle cry, thunder can be heard across the land and the ground shakes furosiously! When he weeps for the lives of those he's lost, floodwaters are created carrying away everything in their path! A swish of his long tail, causes category 5 hurricanes to rapidly sweep across the nation... leaving behind barren land.

Beware, for if you are near Pandemonium - death and destruction are sure to find you! Run! Run! Run!

In the year 2371 a starship was launched called the U.S.S Voyager commanded by the most decorated female Starfleet Acadamy Officer named Kathryn Janeway. She and her crew of over 100 crew members were trying to get home when they got lost in the Delta Quadrant. They were attacked by an alien species called the Borg, One of whom was called Seven Of Nine and she was eventually individuated and made a member of Voyagers crew. Janeway is a fabulous Capt, friend and overall Starfleet commander. She is the best capt Starfleet has seen since Jean Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise.  Like her counter part she loves coffee. She gets very angry if she does not get any. 

All points to Captian Kathryn Janeway #156214

This is for Cyrano, dog #155923

Once upon a time, a mama fox gave birth to four kits. All of the little kits had beautiful auburn pelts with white markings. Soon, she found a small abandoned kit in the woods. This one, his fur was the deep color of mud, and he had odd little nubs on his back. “Oh no! “He really is quite ugly, not like my children. All the same, I can’t just leave him here,” She thought to herself. So she took him home, and raised him as her own.

Despite her best efforts, children are children, and the four auburn colored kits frequently made fun of their differently-colored brother. “What an odd color you are!” they would tease, until he would run and hide to escape their never-ending mockery. 

Things only got worse when they got older and set off on their own. As he traveled to find a mate, all the other foxes took one look at him and turned their backs on him. “What are you?” they would ask. “I could never be with one who looks like you!” they scorned. 

Cyrano resolved to live his life alone. But still, he was lonely. 

One day Cyrano was sitting at a pond, watching his reflection in the water. His ears twitched and he took account of himself. He really had matured as he got older; his fur had deepened into a dark purple, and he had handsome white markings…. But he had never met another fox this color. His ears were longer than most foxes. His tail was comically long. There was no other way to put it: he was just different.

“Help me!” He heard a cry.

He turned to see where the sound was coming from, and saw a gorgeous golden creature up on a high tree branch, her claws scrambling to grip. What was she? He had never seen a fox that looked quite like that. 

She yelped as she fell, unable to hold on any longer. He didn’t even think, but he lept into the air and for the first time his wings - wait, his wings? - unfurled, and he took flight. He didn’t even have time to think as he caught the beautiful vixen on his back, cradling her between his wings (wait, what?!). Her weight and his unfamiliar wings quickly brought him to the ground, but he had slowed her fall and she was safe.

“Thank you!” She smiled at him as she stood up. 

He stared. Her pelt was a beautiful gold, a color he had never seen before. Her ears were much longer than all of the foxes that he had ever met. And her tail was gorgeously long. 

“I’ve never seen another sionnach out here before!” She continued.

“A what?” He asked.

“A sionnach,” she said. “Didn’t you know? That’s what I am, what you are.” 

Suddenly, everything came together. Being different, from his color to the length of his ears, his tail, the nubs - well, his wings. He wasn’t a fox at all. He was a sionnach.

The beautiful vixen introduced herself as Odette, and she took Cyrano under her wing (well, not literally) and showed him the world. Together, they lived happily ever after.

The moral of the story is to never judge a book by its cover. Accept others for their qualities, not how they look!

The end.

Warning, it's long. Points to Inuarashi, 156219

THE TALE OF THE HAYAI, INUARASHI

“Hey,” came a loud voice, “let’s go there!”

Nami, the navigator for the Thousand Sunny, looked over to the horizon where she could see the tropical looking island ahead.

“Nami,” said the speaker again, “let’s go to that island!”

Nami looked over to the speaker and saw that Luffy was sitting on his usual spot on the prow of the ship, excitedly pointing. She knew it would be no use to refuse the captain, so she told the rest of the crew to get ready to set sail for the upcoming island.

***

Sometime later, the crew landed. The island was of a smaller size, ringed with palm trees. There seemed to be a village nearby. As the crew made plans to see the sites, a dog ran up to them. It was a larger breed, streamlined and was running amazingly fast. It stopped when it saw Luffy and started to jump up and lick him. Then it went over to chew on Brooke’s bones. Brooke, used to the canine Minks doing this, just pushed the dog away gently.

A man came running up and apologized to the crew. Sanji asked if there was somewhere to get supplies and the man answered there was. Zoro asked about drink and the man said that there was an inn in the town. Luffy, as always excited about food, eagerly took him up on his suggestion.

Hideki, their guide's name, led them to the inn, where they were waited upon. Usopp noted that the town was welcome to pirates, something most others were not. The folks around them laughed. It was then that Chopper noticed pictures on the wall, with the Mink leader Inuarashi prominent among them.

An older gentlemen spoke up and told them the reason was that the Mink and the Roger pirates saved the island. Luffy, always eager to hear anything about the crew of the Oro Jackson, encouraged the aged gentleman to go on.

With a glass of sake in hand, the man, identified as Akio, began his story...

***

The name of the island was Cynop and at one time, it was filled with dogs. These dogs multiplied and soon took over the island. Folks from all over the Wano region would take a pet but soon, someone got the idea of settling the island and ran a sort of adoption center for the fast-running dogs. These were unusual animals, quite tall and on the thin side with an ability to race anything down. This adoption program went on for some time and the island grew more populated and prosperous.

Then one day, a man landed on the island. He quickly established himself as governor. As this prevented others with bad intent from taking the island, the people welcomed him. His name was Yoshito.

It came about a half year later, the Incident happened. Yoshito and his son were walking through the city when a dog came up to them. The son, Taro, kicked it away. The dog, normally docile, turned and bit him on the leg. Taro, who was known as a bully, did as most bullies did and started to yell and kick up a fuss. His father, not keen on any animal, started to turn on the dogs. He convinced himself that the dogs were bad, barking all the time and biting people. So, he in turn issued a decree that would ban all pets. The townsfolk implored him to change his mind, as selling the dogs was how the town made money but Yoshito, who had what would be called psychological rigidity, refused to change his mind.

Then came the culling. Using bad actors and others, they systematically destroyed all the dogs they could find. A few breeding pairs were kept in horrible conditions, being overbred. The town, formally wealthy, declined. People moved away until the island was under the complete control of Yoshito and the criminal and pirate crews who worked for him.

***

It happened about a year later that one of the breeding pair gave birth to a litter of puppies. A young boy, Masa, overheard some of the town elders speaking about selling only a few of the young and getting rid of the rest. Masa, outraged, snuck in later that night, and released the puppies. A few stayed behind but most ran away.

In the morning, the keeper, Noriko, came and saw the litter gone. She raised the alarm, and the hunt began for the litter of 11. Ten were found, brought back, and sold off. The last one managed to elude everyone. A few months later, Masa and his sister, Ayame, were at home doing chores when they heard a whimpering sound. Investigating, they found a bedraggled puppy. You could see every rib; it was so thin. The young one was lying down, not being able to move and close to death.

“Brother,” declared Ayame, “we need to help it.”

“I did once and look what happened. We could get into trouble and mother could lose this house.”

“Please brother.”

So it happened that the two children took the dog to the shed behind their home. They used medicine from their parents' trunks and a portion of their food to give to the dog. It slowly grew stronger to where you could no longer see the ribs. The day the dog, called hayai as a nickname, stood up was a day of celebration for the two children.

***

The pirate crew of Gol D Roger was renowned. Though dying, Roger vowed to find the end of the Grand Line. Using a poneglyph taken from Big Mom, the crew was making fast pace to hit Raftel. Cynop, a speck on the map, was to be used as a stopping point, to give the crew some time to relax.

Disembarking and walking into the main village, called Wanchan, they were looked upon with curiosity. Two members were gazed at with a sort of hostility though. These were the two Mink pirates who had stowed away when Oden joined the crew—Inuarashi and Nekomamushi.

Taro, who by this time was his father’s right hand, came up to greet them.

“Welcome,” he said. “Are you here to get yourself a pet? Or do you already have them?” He snickered and pointed to the dog and cat Mink’s.

“We are here to get supplies and then to be on our way.”

“You are welcome. Your pets are not.”

“Pets?” asked Oden.

“Those two,” Taro pointed out. “Animals are disallowed on Cynop. Unless they get put into kennels to be sold.”

“Sold?” Nekomamushi was appalled. “Try to sell me and see what happens.”

“In any case,” Taro stated, ignoring the Minks, “you are all welcome to stay—except them.”

The retaliation by the cat Mink was stopped by Roger.

“If they can’t stay, we won’t stay.”

The crew turned to go but lingered on the way back on the pristine beach. Suddenly, Roger looked around.

“Did you hear that?”

His crew answered in the negative. Roger, you see, possessed The Voice of All Things. He sent Inuarashi out to investigate and soon enough, the dog Mink came back with a canine in his arms. Also, out of the palms came two children. They attacked Inuarashi with sticks.

“Leave the hayai alone!” yelled Masa.

Inuarashi put the dog down. The animal then began to sniff him, as dogs do.

“I thought animals were not allowed on this island,” stated Buggy.

“They are not. We saved the hayai from the governor.”

“So, what would happen if he were to be found?” again, from Buggy.

“They would kill him, as he is not a breeding dog.”

Oden reacted with shock.

“They would destroy the dog for nothing?”

The two children nodded.

“The rest of the breeders are kept in horrible conditions in the kennels. I only wish we could free them all.” Ayame said, on the verge of tears.

“They only keep them until they are old and cannot breed,” explained Masa. “Then they are taken out and shot.”

Inuarashi turned to Roger.

“We need to do something about this,” he said in his polite way.

Roger nodded and turned to the children.

“What happens if the dogs escape?”

Masa told the pirates about the tale of the litter the dog came from. Their expressions darkened.

“This cannot go on,” he stated. “We will free the dogs.”

A plan came together quickly. The disrespect showed the two Mink members suffered were rational enough in any case.

***

That night, Shanks and Buggy broke into the kennels. The children were right, it was in appalling condition. The crates were made of iron and had not been cleaned in a good while. The food and water bowls were empty. The breeding pairs (of which there were 5) were in similarly bad condition. The two pirates looked at each other, shaking their heads.

Breaking them out was no issue. The two simply lifted and took the cages to the beach. They put them in a shack that was hastily built. Then the breeding house was set ablaze. The entire town came out to see it. Noriko was especially upset.

"The hayai are gone!” she shrieked.

Yoshito knew who must have taken them and he gave an order to his men to hunt the pirates down on the beach.

“We need to destroy them as they have taken our livelihood!” they all said.

Armed with swords, they marched on the beach. However, the Roger pirates were ready for them. It was an unequal fight as Roger was known as one of the strongest men in the world and his whole crew were the same. In fact, the fight was over before it began, due to Roger using his Conqueror’s Haki, which disabled a good 95% of the attackers. They began falling like flies, due to their weak wills making them suspectable to its use.

Taro was the one who found the dogs in the hut. Masa tried to defend but was overpowered by the larger man. Inuarashi saw Taro approach the children and went in. Taro turned his attention to the dog Mink. He drew his sword and attacked. Inuarashi countered with his katana, infusing it with Busoshoku haki. Taro’s blows missed due to Inuarashi’s further use of Kenbunshoku haki, which allowed him to anticipate the attacks.

Finally, Inuarashi was able to get a good blow in and Taro’s eyes went white, and he was knocked unconscious.

“Are you ok?” he asked the children.

“Yes.”

From outside, the fight was ending. Nekomamushi was fighting with Yoshito and winning handily. The governor was finally defeated when, out of nowhere, the pup who was rescued came in like a flash and bit Yoshito on his buttocks. This allowed the cat Mink to land a stunning blow. Then the governor and his men rounded up and tied together. The rest of the townspeople came out to see.

“This is what happens,” Roger pronounced, “when you mistreat things, being people or animals.”

Further speechifying was done but, in the end, the people of the town realized they had been blind. The people further heard how it was a humanoid dog who saved Masa and Ayame. The pirates hid when the Marine’s showed up to take the rulers away but came out after for a party. The town it seemed had been hoarding supplies.

A gala started with the wine and sake flowing. Food was cooked and eaten. A rousing round of the song Bink’s Sake was started.

“Yo-ho, ho ho ho, yo-ho, ho ho ho...” sang the pirates. After the first verse, the town joined in. Bonfires were lit and dancing started.

The next day, the hungover and worse for wear Roger crew, headed back to their ship. On the way, Masa stopped them. It had been the tradition in town to never name the dogs, as they were to be sold and renamed anyway.

“I have decided to start a new way." stated the boy. “I am naming this hayai after you. It will be called Inuarashi.”

Inuarashi laughed and his namesake came up and started jumping up and licking him. This started everyone else in.

“It seems only fitting,” said the dog pirate.

Then the crew were on their way, leaving the town to start again.

***

“So,” inquired a modern-day Zoro, “what happened?”

“We rebuilt the kennels, but they are so much nicer. We also put into place a system to not have more than 2 litters per breeding pair. Would you like to see them?”

Luffy needed no encouragement in this. The Straw Hats were taken to a modern building. There were spacious pens and no cages. The floors were clean, and food and water were plentiful. The dogs were all in attractive shape.

“I want to see them run,” said Luffy, excited.

Some of the dogs were let out of the building and into a large, fenced field in the back. Then they were let loose. They were faster than lightning. The Straw Hats were amazed but not shocked when their captain turned and said he wanted one.

The rest of his crew were anticipating this and quickly shot down the suggestion.

“Oh well,” stated Luffy confidently, “one day we will get one.”

Then he jumped into the field with the dogs and began to race them. Nami rolled her eyes.

“Typical Luffy,” she stated as everyone guffawed at Luffy being chased by the dogs.

END.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cDgurvBUReI0LOmPpaEpK4DmriuL5FU_CpKLnBKhUDY/edit

Attached is The Story of Freydis (155749). It was far too long to post on here. I hope you all enjoy!

Sealed with A Kiss:

Sealed With A Kiss (ID #388842) - Horse Information (horsephenomena.com)

On a drop of a hat a beautiful buckskin painted colt was born a prince as family called him. A young superstar colt that his family dreamed of for years.  He was named "Sealed with A Kiss" because of a kiss type marking on his lips and born in Febuary, what an appropriate name for such a future champion.  Growing up to be over 16 hands tall with a beautiful long mane and tail.  He grows up to be a world champion western riding and hunter under saddle.

Oh what a joy having Prince has been as his owner called out, showing the multiudes of trophies collected by him as a weanling and yearling and now hes started his under saddle career. Despite doubts of many, sealed with a kiss continues to make his owners proud.

        _{As the moon ascended boldly in the cobalt sky, the patter of paws emanated from the darkest corners of the city. Slowly, they emerged; muzzles fixed low to the ground in search of food and friends. They were large and small, old and young, timid and brave, united by the same desire; survival.}

        _{The new blood lingered behind the rest, whimpering in uncertainty as those hardened from a lifetime on the streets took the lead. They watched through frightened eyes at the throng of misfits gathering before them, bathing in the dull glow of a nearby streetlamp. A grizzled hound came forward, towering above them all, his arcane eyes glowering at the uneasy few desperately seeking direction. He took in the sight of them, cowering and licking at his heels in submission. He let out a sharp growl, turned, and made for the manse.}

        _{They nipped at one another uneasily, careful not to make a sound, for fear of drawing attention from the people of the city. There were perils in discovery; snatched and thrown into the back of a vehicle, never to be seen again. The seasoned strays were especially wary; the new ones would soon learn. Stomachs growled in unison with the spattering of fat, heavy raindrops on the concrete sidewalks. They darted skilfully into side streets at the approach of footsteps, waiting in perfect silence for the person to pass, before slinking out once more, in pursuit of the golden manse.}

        _{The new ones were oblivious to the nightly ritual but came along because they simply had nowhere else to be. Thoughts of home had suddenly felt as empty as their stomachs, ripped away so cruelly. They followed blindly, their tails hung as low as their hope.} 

        _{The group made their way through the humid streets until the city began to open up into an expanse of twilight-laden gardens. Fairy lights twinkled in the breeze, trying desperately to ward off the encroaching storm. The pack seemed to relax; tails started to wag gently and a few quiet yaps escaped eager throats. The grizzled hound pressed onward; eyes like pools of obsidian fixed firmly ahead. A left turn and then a right, and before long, they had arrived.} 

        _{The rain had started to fall heavily now, covering the golden manse in a slick shimmer. Light radiated from within, warm and inviting. The pack began to whine and whimper with excitement, but a stern growl from the hound quietened them. Respect was crucial, when meeting La Reina.}

        _{They filtered in through a gap in the stone wall, the hound standing guard as the last of them skipped through. They mulled around as the hound emerged, taking the lead once more, through the darkened garden and on to the grassy expanse. They could see shadows moving up ahead, sending a flicker of excitement through the eager pack. They rounded the marble fountain, and saw her.}

        _{She stood before them, strong and unyielding, with a coat the colour of rust and eyes that had seen a thousand lifetimes before her own. She regarded them as she stood sentinel atop the manse steps, her people waiting patiently behind for the feast to begin. The pack assembled, and one-by-one, dropped to their bellies in respect. Only once the final dog had lowered itself, did La Reina begin to move towards them. She stopped before the hound, giving a gentle nudge to his wiry muzzle. He arose to meet her, nudging her sleek ears in return, before turning to the pack, and giving a short bark. They immediately rose to their feet, yipping and circling in excitement. The people came down from the steps to join the throng, arms laden with an array of meats and morsels upon gleaming silver trays. They lay them upon the grass before the hungry mouths, and the feast commenced.}

        _{The grizzled hound stood beside la reina de las calles as they dutifully watched over the ravenous pack. Her life seemed worlds apart from their own, but they knew she was once like them; born to the streets, hunger and fear following her like a close companion.}

        _{She had never forgotten them, and as her wiry-coated, copper-coloured young emerged from within the glowing manse, they knew they would not be forgotten for generations to come.}

_{https://horsephenomena.com/dogs.php?id=155704}

For Odette, dog #155924

Let me tell you the story of the best day of my life.

The funny thing is, it was almost the worst day of my life.

My name is Odette. I’m a sionnach. You know - we kind of look like foxes, but we’re just so much more. Some of us have wings; I don’t. But I am gorgeous, if I do say so for myself. 

Anyway, where was I? 

Oh, right. So I was rambling through the woods, doing my thing. What thing? Um. Well. Sionnach things-

Okay, okay, fine. I was looking at the birds again. 

Can you blame me? Have you seen one recently? I love them all, from the owl down to the tiny sparrow. The sounds they make, the way their feathers do that thing… 

I lost track of my story again, didn’t I? Sorry. 

So what I was really doing was tracking one. I could hear the bird trilling in the trees above me, but I couldn’t see it. I was on the ground, being really quiet, tracking it. I hadn’t heard this bird call before, so I was really eager to see it. But after twenty minutes, I was starting to get really impatient. 

What else was there to do? I found a tall tree, and I started to climb. Now, side note: us sionnach are not very good climbers. But I have claws, I was being really careful, and I was more than a little determined. So I climbed all the way to the highest branches and I was feeling really proud of myself. 

I held still, waiting to hear the bird call out again. Nothing, nothing… wait, there!

Every hair on my body was standing upright, I was poised. 

I took a step forward 

and 

I 

Fell

Down.

Apparently, I stopped watching my paws and I ran out of branch. My claws scrabbled, trying to grab hold, but there was nothing there.

As I fell, the only thought that ran through my head was “but I didn’t even get to see the bird!” It was most unfair.

Then, out of nowhere, wham! I landed on something. I struggled to catch my breath, trying to see what had caught me mid-air. It was the most gorgeous winged thing I had ever seen in my life.

We landed, hitting the ground hard, and I rolled away. I got back on my paws, and I turned to face him and-

Do you believe in love at first sight?

I didn’t used to. 

But the moment that our eyes met, I swear every bird in the forest broke out into song.

We’ve been together ever since, and I have never been happier. 

And that, my friends, is the story of the day I almost died but was saved by the love of my life: Cyrano. 

Tart had always been mocked about his looks - you see, he was different to the other colts and fillies in the barn.

'Hey, princess', Fargo teased. Fargo was a champion colt, his sire a 5 time world dressage champion and his dam a beautiful broodmare with the prettiest bay leopard spotting.

The youngsters giggled, leaving Tart feeling embarrassed, bowing his head down to look at his reflection in the water trough.

'Why did I have to be so different?'

He dipped his muzzle into the water, causing the water to ripple and his reflection cracked.

Tart had a crisp white coat with near leopard cherry spotting, which is what made him stand out from the crowd. Recognized colours for Knabstruppers are typically bay, black and chestnut. How could Tart ever be a champion?...

** three years later **

Tart blinked and slowly lifted his head as the morning sunshine shone through the pine slats of his stable. The blackbirds were up bright and early with their birdsong and the stable hands were beginning to make a start on their chores.  The yard was a hive of activity during the day - and today was no different. Tart heard a very distinct snort in the arena, as Fargo and his rider began their morning of training. There was no denying that Fargo had inherited his sires' talent. His piaffe was exquisite, his pirouettes were elegant and his flying changes were well-crafted and executed perfectly. There was no doubt Fargo was a master of his trade - and boy, did he know it!

'Who's a beautiful boy?'. Tart's rider, Emily, was a sweet girl. She was relatively new to the yard but had become quite taken with him. 

'Pfft, I'm handsome, not beautiful', Tart thought, but Emily's nose scratches soon became the best thing since a fresh carrot, so she was quickly forgiven.

'Are you enjoying that pamper, princess?'. Fargos' pristine dark coat matched his dark personality perfectly.

Emily must have heard Fargo snorting, she turned to Tart and whispered 'ignore him, handsome. Your time will come, I promise. Now, let's get you tacked up and we'll go for a ride! 

Tart loved going out with Emily. She always took him on the most beautiful trail rides, many of which bordered a neighbouring farm. Tart had noticed a beautiful mare with unique coloring - her spots were a lighter shade of brown, almost golden - resembling honey or treacle. He'd never been confident enough to ask for her name. 

The thundering thud of hooves hitting the grass caught Tarts attention - he turned his head and the beautiful mare was standing at the post and rail fence bordering the gallops. 

is she batting her eyelashes at me?

'Hey!' an excited whinny followed, 'I'm Treacle'. Up close, Tart could fully admire her beautiful sea-blue eyes, her long, luscious flowing mane and tail, and those truly stunning spots.

'I'm Tart... Lovely to finally meet you'. The pair seemed to blush ever so slightly, rubbing their muzzles together and nickering.

'Eh-Ehm', Emily coughed, jokingly. 

Tart reared up gently in excitement, as if to say, ‘nothing to see here Emily’.

'Come on, boy'. Emily tapped her heel gently against Tarts' side, encouraging him to walk on. 

Tart always drew attention when he was out, for no one had ever seen a cherry coloured horse - today, however, the head judge of the county show was in town.

'What a spectacular looking horse', he exclaimed. Both Emily and Tart were equally as stunned, as crowds began to gather around. 'A truly exquisite example of form, confirmation and the most beautiful coat I've ever seen. I would like to fast track this handsome stallion into our county championship'.

Emily and the Judge exchanged some paperwork, and word soon spread throughout the equestrian world. 

It was a beautiful spring evening and the horses were turned out into the pasture for a few hours of prime grazing. A kerfuffle in the top corner of the pasture meant only one thing: Fargo had heard the news. With an angry snort, Fargo galloped over to Tart, rearing up and thrashing his front legs in his face, narrowly missing him.

'How dare you', 'how dare you enter the county championships. This is my title, my trophy - and I’ve seen you talking to Treacle… she’s mine too!'.

Tart nipped at Fargo - may the best stallion win.

**County Show Day **

Treacle looked fantastic. No expense had been spared to ensure she was the best dressed mare, from her manicured hooves to her ornamental quarter marks. Fargo and Tart had also been pristinely groomed; Fargo ready for his dressage and championship class, and Tart fully prepared for his fast track into the championship.

‘Hello again, Tart’. Tart turned his head to see Treacle in the pen on the adjacent side of the corral to him. ‘Good luck today! You’re going to smash it. Being different simply means you have something unique to offer the world.’ Treacle smiled before being led away by her rider.

Her words stuck with Tart. He knew he had to win today. 

‘Calling all competitors to the main arena for the county championship show, I repeat, all competitors to the main arena for the county championship show’.

Emily led Tart from the corral pen into the main arena. The county championship show was a show by hand, whereby the horses wore a decorative halter and were judged on form, coat, confirmation and fluidity.

There were 9 competitors this year, Tart and Fargo included. Tart could feel Fargos’ intense glare burning into the side of his neck. It was uncomfortable for him, but this spurred him on to do his very best. 

Each horse had their moment in the spotlight, as the judge deliberated and paid close attention to every small detail. He watched closely as each horse walked and trotted around the arena, ensuring that each horse was true to form with a fluid gait.

Time seemed to stand still, as the judge was making his final decisions. The show ring was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. A swish of a tail here, a snort there.

‘The 2023 County Champion is….. Tart’

The crowd roared and applauded as a floral wreath was placed around Tart’s neck.

Fargo reared up in fury, breaking the reign of his halter and he galloped over to Tart, thrashing his legs and biting. Had he forgotten that he was being watched?

‘Get that beast under control!’ exclaimed the judge.

A group of stable hands surrounded Fargo, making every effort to calm him down.

This little outburst would be the end of Fargo’s championship career, as there were no places in the show world for aggression and let’s face it, a very sore loser.

‘Tart! I’m so proud of you!’. Treacle walked over to Tart, nickering and rubbing her muzzle against his. ‘Thank you for believing in me’, Tart whispered, as a photographer captured this sweet interaction.

Treacle’s owner could see the connection between the two horses and offered her neighbours the opportunity to buy her. Emily was elated, as she was now living her dream and taking care of the two most stunning anomalies of the equestrian world.

Treacle and Tart thrived in each others company and over the years the barn became known for producing championship quality cherry and treacle spotted Knabstruppers. What a wonderful new chapter this would be for them all. ?

This is Aingeal's (ID #388518) backstory.

It should’ve been the same as any other party, but I had a strange suspicion that this one would be different. With my sister Eilís and Peig bounding enthusiastically alongside me, we strode into the large ballroom of my uncle’s home to meet the other guests.

Secluded from the bustle of the city and shrouded by magic unless in possession of a special key, it was an exclusive treat for anyone to find themselves invited to one of our extravagant functions. To hide the significance of these keys, we would bind the incantation to the very invitations our guests were sent. This way no one was the wiser and we retained the privacy we needed to exist in a world that would never understand our curse or our subsequent gifts. When they depart at the end of the night, their invitations will fade away into nothing as they cross the casted veil, along with any stolen souvenirs from their time at the estate.

It wasn’t a question of if my sisters and I would marry, it was a question of when. I have weathered the storm of numerous persistent suitors, but none ever come close to the standard I have set for myself. I know it is only a matter of time before my father will insist I choose or force a favorable match of his own. The dreamlike candlelight danced along the walls as both of my sisters were swept away with tender words and playful teasing from their own suitors. I observed from the sidelines with a weak smile as they joyously mingled among the other dancers.

The pressures I faced were not on their shoulders. I’m a girl in a world in which my old job is to marry rich. Our father has no sons so I am expected to social climb for one. I am the oldest and wittiest, and the city gossip is insidious. I love my sisters, but I often find myself envious of their freedom and how they throw caution to the wind whenever possible. As a foreign voice nearby guides me back to the present, I’m suddenly all too aware of the sadness that had crept into my features. I tuck away my musings and step back into the role I am expected to play.

“I’m sorry?”

“You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.”

Displeasure filled me at the nerve of the assumption, and also alarm at how spot-on it had been. Could he read minds? “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You forget yourself.”

“You’re like me.. I have never been satisfied.”

“Is that right?” My cheeks felt flush and I hoped it didn’t show. His gaze was soft yet full of great passion at the same time.

“I have never been satisfied.”

My name, once forgotten when his eyes met mine, returns to me. “My name is Aingeal Scouler.”

I extended my hand towards him and without hesitation, he takes it within his own. The feel of his warm lips against the skin on the back of my hand sets both my cheeks and heart aflame.

“Alasdair Hamaltan.”

Intrigued by the introduction of an unfamiliar surname, I tilted my head with a raised brow.

“Where’s your family from?”

His once confident demeanor wavers as a pitiful look of disapproval replaces it. He fidgets for a moment before regaining some composure.

“Unimportant, there’s a million things I haven’t done.. Just you wait.”

As Alasdair leaves my presence, air returns to fill my lungs fully for the first time since he interrupted my dismal trance. So this is what it feels like to match wits with someone your level. The conversation lasted two, maybe three, minutes, but the electricity of our interaction lingered so tangibly that I swore I could feel it all around me. He was handsome, but a flirt. Penniless, but driven. He fit none of the checkboxes I was expected to adhere to, but part of me didn’t care. I would take a chance on this thrilling dance and mentally prepare to weather the disappointment of my father.

As I turn in an attempt to locate where he had gone, I am met by my sister Eilís’ face and she is helpless. I listen to her pleas for an introduction to Alasdair as my stomach twists into a pit of despair. Yet again, I am expected to step aside as she lives her life in a manner completely backward from my own. A life where she is free to choose what she wants when she wants it. I love her, but as I watch her make her plans with no regard for anyone but herself I feel rage flood my veins.

“No.”

I can tell immediately she is caught off guard by the unyielding weight of my tone. Her brows furrow as she takes a step back. “N-No?”

“No.” I remain steadfast as my hands drop from her arms to my sides, posturing. “You cannot have him.”

“Surely you cannot be serious, Ainge-”

I cut her off without hesitation. I am trying to keep my voice low, but I can tell I am failing to.  “You always get your way, don’t you, sister? I am making a decision in my best interests this time. Stay away from him.” I pause for only a moment to watch as she predictably opens her mouth to challenge me once more, silencing her again as I continue. “Stop, Eilís. Or else..”

She persists and I immediately turn away from her to withdraw from the conversation. Her eyes reveal every emotion; dismay, exasperation, and most dangerously determination. I feel her hand grab my wrist to stop me, but I forcibly pull away from her. I already know what I must do to ensure he is mine. If I do not, she might. I can only hope he will forgive me in the end.

I locate Alasdair within minutes and effortlessly persuade him to join me in the gardens for a stroll by employing one of my best gifts; my supernatural allure. We speak of his reasons for being in the city, of my life, of the revolution, and of our ever-changing world. I find myself internally reaffirming my decision; I look into his eyes and the sky is the limit. I must keep those eyes in my life. Our walk takes us out past the gardens, into the Caledonian woods, before we come to rest at the edge of the bogs. It is here that I drop my glamour and compel him to place his hands upon my withers which seals his fate. I drag him into the waters and allow him to become evitably bound to me for the rest of our immortal lives. I change him. I make him one of us.

I make him mine.

He flees from me shortly after the transformation is complete, kicking his hooves at me in defiance. We both know the inevitable truth though; it courses torturously through our veins like a deep ache in the soul. He is mine and will need to return to me in time. The suffering will enforce the obligation to remain nearby to one another, but only time will tell if he will be thankful for the gifts I have bestowed upon him. His political climb will be easier with both them and my status at his disposal. Surely he understands that, right?

And when I return soaking wet, my sister is there to meet me in the gardens. She is powerless and horrified. For once, not a single word is uttered.

I smile. I am satisfied.

Alasdair (horse #388519)'s backstory:

‘Dear Diary,

I might just remember this night for the rest of my days; I met someone today. ‘

The man wrote carefully but quickly, the smile never leaving his face as he continued.

‘Well, two. And my god, they are the most beautiful women I have ever met. I have a good feeling about tonight.’ 

“Alasdair?” He heard a voice calling for him, so he stopped writing and stood. 

“Yes?” He turned and his heart stopped. It was the younger of the two sisters he had just met, Eilís. 

“You must be careful,” she said. Her voice was odd, almost pleading. 

“About wha-” He started to ask, but heard another voice calling for him. “Aingeal?” As he turned to look down the hall to where Aingeal was briskly approaching them, he was fairly certain he heard Eilís mutter something that sounded like ‘she is coming’ but then Aingeal grabbed him by the hand.

Just like that, his attention was focused on Aingeal, one hundred percent, Eilís forgotten. 

“Alasdair, would you care to take a stroll in the gardens? With me?” A small smile on her lips. 

He bowed over her hand, and she placed her hand on his arm. Their walk takes them out past the gardens, into the Caledonian woods, where they come to rest at the edge of the bogs.

And there, something changes. As Alasdair gazed upon Aingeal’s face, the beautiful woman disappeared, leaving behind a dark blue horse. A sudden terror filled Alasdair’s heart, as his hands reached up of their own accord, slowly reaching for the mare’s back. Try as he might, he was unable to stop. She surged forward, dragging him into the bogs themselves.

Then, suddenly, searing pain surged through him. Hands turned to hooves, body changing. He transformed, the word now coming into his head unbidden: kelpie.

The second he felt his body under his own control again, he was off. Anywhere, just away from here, away from her. Even as he runs, he can feel the ache coursing through him. The blight that was now upon his soul, as well as the ache in his heart that was screaming at him to return to her. The only thought running through his head was I might just regret this night for the rest of my days.

He didn’t stop, at least for now.

And as he ran, his parchment fell, slowly falling into the murky water of the bogs, never to be seen again.

Find the story of Merida (387767) here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MG2CYvpz56TOCoJn8i5G65j_lWTPFkOZ9oCkXSNZfqQ/edit

It was too long to post here. :)

Chaos Theory, #388650

Before the world became the world, the continents were joined as one expansive land mass. The sea was gentle, the wind was absent. Creatures of every size, shape, and color coexisted harmoniously, and the days were often warm and bright, the sunlight turning the wheat fields to gold in its beams, turning the ocean to shimmering aquamarine.

Until, one fateful day, the clouds blocked out the sun, turned the world dark and grey and silent. The animals sought shelter, in the trees, the caves, the thickets, and the wind began to blow so hard and so terribly it cracked the boughs of the trees and sent their branches crashing to the forest floor. It blew so hard the waves went wild in protest, roaring and rising and breaking across the shoreline and down upon the cliffs. The salt ate away at the rock, sent boulders the size of elephants plummeting into the depths. 

Across the continent, a volcano raged, magma bubbling menacingly. Above, in the darkened, rolling clouds, lightning lit up the landscape in response. The world was angry, and it was taking that rage out upon the lands.

The elements battled, lightning set forests and field alight, the ocean eroded beaches and overflowed the rivers. And the volcano rumbled so fiercely the landscape trembled. 

The animals watched from their hiding places, frozen and whimpering in fear. The volcano gave another violent shudder before it blew, spewing bright, molten lava into the air and down the volcano's steep slope. The lava set fire to anything once living - the grass, the brush, the trees - and the heat and flames sent the animals scattering from their hiding places.

They raced across the glowing landscape, searching anywhere and everywhere for a hole or otherwise appropriate place for cover. But there was no place that the fire wouldn't be able to touch. As they neared the roiling ocean, hope fading fast, the heat behind them dissipated almost completely. The red-orange glow against the clouds faded, and the sky calmed itself.

Perplexed, the animals turned to gaze at the volcano. The figure of a quadriped picked its way carefully down the volcano's edge, its feet glowing vivid red. As the figure loomed closer, the animals saw that it was a horse that had emerged from the volcano. A massive, leering horse.

And Chaos Theory was born.

It's amazing how a tiny spark left behind can distroy a forest. A weary hiker extinguished his campfire before he set back off,  however a breeze blew and a tiny flame ignited from the remains. From that flame came two black outlines that grew in size with a firery mane and tail and became two black horses.

One swooped up carried by smoke while the mare stamped her hoof and shrieked a warning to all the animals in the area. Birds took to the skies and dissappeared through the smoke, squirrels leaped out of dreys in trees and raced across branches not yet burning, small animals scurried over the ground not yet scorched but they felt the heat as it got closer and deer bounded over bushes frantic to get away. It wasn't long before the wind picked up and the fire danced across the woodland floor, scorching trees and bushes in it's wake. The crackling of the fire raged on and the area became thick with smoke. The fire was jumping across the dry trees that cracked as they burned. 

Deja stopped and listened as she saw movement above. Cantering out of sight she watched smoke jumpers appear through the smoke and land safely. Firefighters shouted to each other as they quickly donned tools to fight the fire. People ran in all directions in organized chaos as they went about their duties to minimize the damage. Deja ingnored them as she heard a cry and galloped towards a raccoon that was surrounded by the walls of flames. She jumped the flames and lowered her neck and the creature trembled as it clambered on. The mare deftly leaped the flames and raced on, jumping and swerving to avoid trees that fell. 

Once they were a good distance away from the main fire the mare stopped and let the little raccoon slide down and rush off for safety. She maybe couldn't save every creature but she did that one and with being created from fire she did not feel an intense heat from it. Deja listened and heard a plaintiff howl and off she went again jumping brush, and fallen trees, leaping through bright flames and came to a stop.

The fire had blocked a dens entrance and the animal inside was frantic. Deja quickly turned around and started kicking dirt around. It wasn't enough to smother the flames but it did lower them enough, the wolf managed to escape and dart off into the dark. 

Deja raised her head so she could find her next victim of the fire to assist...... It took many days before the fire was under control and the last flame was extinguished. When that happened the smoke slowly evaporated and Deja and Crux had merged as one before they disappeared.

A weary hiker extinguished his campfire before he set back off,  however a breeze blew and a tiny flame ignited from the remains. From that flame came two black outlines that grew in size with a firery mane and tail and became two black horses.

One stood still while the stallion let himself be carried by the smoke of the fire. He followed it across acres seeing the devastation it caused and seeing hoards of animals fleeing. Birds swooped past him eager to get away.

As the fire raged it became too much and smoke jumpers were called in. Crux watched as the air was filled with people leapin from planes and parachutes deployed. On hitting the ground they got down to business and their cargo is dropped close by so tools are grabbed and saws soon in use so as well as the crackling of the fire there's the whine of the chainsaws as fire lines are established to stop the fire spreading.

Crux moved with the smoke watching as the smoke jumpers battled in the high temperatures and orange glow to get the fire under control. He kept an eye on them as they moved from group to group and heard a faint voice so quickly moving through the thick smoke towards the heart of the fire he saw that two firefighters had been caught off guard when the wind had suddenly changed direction and they were stuck in the middle of the blaze.

It was so thick that even with the head torches they couldn't see their tools to find which direction to and they were struggling to pull out the fire shelters from their packs. "what's that?" One shouted to the other. They looked and they threw their packs on to follow the animal. Later they had no idea why as they wouldn't have been able to help it as their shelters were only big enough for themselves but they felt compelled to follow. It turned out that the horse led them out of immedite danger enough for them to orient themselves and be able to regroup. Crux kept an eye out during the remainder of the wildfire for any other firefighters in trouble and helped them back to their groups.

The fire started to finally settle down and the flames extinguished. Slowly but surely hotspots were dealt with and when it came to the last one, a smoldering log Crux smiled as he saw Deja rise from the flame and cross into his smoke. They drew together just before the smoke dissipated.

Points to Ringwraith

She was born without a name. In the herds of the King, names were reserved for Warhorses, and Warhorses were stallions – strong, imposing, fierce. What claim would a scrawny filly have on a name? But what she lacked in outward strength, she made up for with fierce determination and will to fight.

Time and again, she picked battles with larger, stronger yearlings – colts destined to become the mounts of the finest warriors, prancing with all the proud swagger of youth. Time and again, she was beaten down, bloodied, bruised – and yet unbroken. With every kick, every bite, the flame of her ire burned brighter, blossoming within her heart until fire raged through her veins – a fire that offered her vigour and fortitude beyond imagination.

One day the King's horse master, wandering the paddocks to select the finest youngstock for his master's stables, set his eye upon her. Her black coat was marred with scars, but she held her fine head imperiously high and flicked her tail devilishly from side to side. As one of the colts moved to approach, reaching his nose curiously toward the horse master, she pinned her ears and struck, whiplash-fast, driving the colt back from the man with a squeal of derision. And so the decision was made.

When the horse master presented her to the King, the monarch looked upon her with bemusement in his eyes, and rose a quizzical brow to his servant. “This beast is puny and lacking in quality. I expect only the best in my herd.”

The horse master, wise and knowing, shook his head with a smile in his eyes and laid a gentle hand upon her neck, paying no heed to the flicker of her ear or the suspicious sheen of her eye. When he spoke, it was to utter only a single word, his voice soft as the touch of his hand upon her hide. “Believe.”

Perhaps the King believed; or perhaps he did not. Only time would prove him right or wrong, for the horse master took the filly under his wing. The skills of a Warhorse are not swiftly won, and for many months he toiled to teach her all the knowledge that his long years had gifted to him. The fire that blazed within her was never tamed, nor discouraged – but slowly, as the horse master revealed to her all that she might one day be capable of, her bitter fury morphed into a cold, steely resolve. Competence lent her a confidence which she had never known she lacked, and when at last she was called to battle, she stepped out with pride.

Her coat dark shone now, inky-black and glossy from fodder and the hours upon hours that the horse master had spent readying her for his King. When first the King laid eyes upon her, it was without recognition. With a sly smile and a secretive glimmer to his eye, the horse-master looked on as his monarch reached for the stirrup, and fell into the mare's saddle. She shifted, prancing beneath him. With a toss of her head and stamp of her foot, she snatched the reins from his hand, snorting with displeasure.

“Give her liberty, my King, and she will lead you to victory.”

Hearing the words, the King looked askance toward his horse-master. “This is the one?”

“Aye, this is she.”

The monarch turned then an appraising eye over the mare, seeing the way that she cocked her head to the side, ears pricked backward to him, light glinting off the darkness of her eye as she waited for instruction. Slowly, the doubt upon his face morphed to satisfaction, and the King rode to war with a smile on his face.

The battlefield was vast, the armies which loitered at its edges stretching far as the eye could see. Her King served a Lord – a Lord who sought dominion over all the lands of the living. Within the ranks of his servants, she was but one of many. But as the battle-cry was shrieked and the adrenaline coursed within the veins of man and beast alike, she reared high and leaped. Together they charged, coursing down the hillside with all the inevitability of a raging river – yet rather than the rush of cool water, with them rode fire and flame. Her lungs burned, her hooves pounding across scorched-dry dirt, yet ever she ran faster, forcing ahead of the ranks of their soldiers and toward the enemy. Closer and closer, until she could hear also the cries of the opposing forces, rallying to meet them. Closer, until she could see the points of their spears levelled down toward her, their sharp ends racing up to meet her. And so, she soared.

She found herself amongst them, spinning and kicking, driving their steel weapons away with hooves and teeth. Life sped up and slowed down in heady turns as the battle raged about her, a cacophony of anger and fear filling the air. All that she knew was the fight; her fight. Ever it carried her forward, forcing a circle about her into which none dared to venture. It was only when she stood, silent and quiet and utterly alone, that she realised the battle was won.

For her courage, for her spirit, the Dark Lord beckoned her. And though her legs were wearied to the point of collapse; though her hide was flecked with blood and riddled with wounds, she went with her head held high. Where the Kings who served him were gifted rings, precious trinkets of unknown power, the greatest prize was saved for her. With a single touch of his hand, the Dark Lord banished all of her pain and exhaustion. Rather than wounds, her coat suddenly bore a brand; one which glowed with the fire of the Dark Lord himself. For the words that would for evermore be etched into her skin were the words that told of his power, and through them she gained strength the like of which she had never known before.

In that moment, Ringwraith was born.

Backstory for Prince Philip #156230

I was given to Her Majesty The Queen by her creep of a son, the scandal-ridden Prince Andrew, after the death of her beloved husband and longtime companion in life, Prince philip. When he presented her with me as a gift, I could immediately tell as I wriggled into her arms and licked her face lined with sadness that she has suffered a loss. I quickly understook my role in cheering her up, and took to it with my puppy antics and enthusiasm.

As days passed and I settled into my new home with this kind, corgi-loving woman and her other dogs, I made it my mission to rain my love on her with my tongue and always be available for puppy snuggles when she was feeling sad. I could tell she was lonely in our castle home, and the longer we snuggled the more she talked softly to me, telling me all about the life of her love Philip and all of the times they shared together...

He was born as Prince Philip of Greece on the Greek island of Corfu on June 10, 1921, to Prince Andrew of Greece and Princess Alice of Battenberg. His paternal grandfather was King George I of the Hellenes, his maternal uncle the Earl Mountbatten of Burma. When he was barely a year old, his father was banished from Greece, and he and his family were relocated to Italy by a British warship. The youngest and only boy, he went to school first in France, then in Surrey, England. While away at school, his mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia and Philip rarely saw her after that. He moved schools twice more, first to Germany, but with a war looming and the Jewish head of his school forced to flee, he soon relocated for the last time to Scotland.

With another war on the horizon and no real ties to his family, Philip enlisted in the military, becoming a cadet at the Britannia Royal Naval College at Dartmouth, a fateful decision. When then-king George VI and his family were visiting the college, he was given the task of escorting then-Princess Elizabeth and her younger sister Princess Margaret. Her Majesty the Queen talked to me many times about this first meeting with Prince Philip a lot...she confided that he seemed to show off for her and she instantly started crushing on the tall older military officer. They kept in touch through letter writing throughout the war, with her at hom ein Britain helping with war efforts while he fought overseas in the Indian Ocean. He stayed with Elizabeth and her family when on home soil, and a year after the war ended he asked her father the king for her hand in marriage. Before the engagement could be officially announced, Philip had to denounce his title of Prince of Greece, become a British citizen, and choose a new last name, Mountbatten, from his mother's side. Anything to be with his Lilibet.

Elizabeth married her Philip in 1947, a grand affair and a much-needed post-war celebration. He was given the title of His Royal Highness by the King, and on his wedding day became the Duke of Edinburgh, Earl of Merioneth and Baron Greenwich. After the wedding, Philip went back to his military career, and he and my Elizabeth moved to Malta for a few years where he was stationed. They had four children together: Charles in 1948, Anne in 1950, Andrew in 1960, and Edward in 1964, and they enjoyed growing their family together.

In the early 1950s, my Elizabeth's father the king's health was declining. She took on more royal duties to ease his burden, and Philip took leave from his duties in the Royal Navy to support his love. He was never able to return to his career, something Elizabeth confided to me that she felt horrible about being the cause of. It couldn't be helped, however, because the King died in 1952, and Elizabeth, Philip, and their childrens' lives changed forever. Philip was the one to inform hisbeloved, something Elizabeth confided she could tell really weighed on him, both having to tell her about the death of her father, and that she was now Queen.

Elizabeth told me how much her Philip struggled to find his place in their new reality. He had no power, no real say or authority in his life. He struggled to find his purpose, but eventually found his passions and causes. He created the Duke of Edinburgh's Award to promote teamwork, resourcefulness, and a respect for nature in youth. He passionately advocated for wildlife and the environment, becoming the first president for the World Wildlife Fund for Nature. He also sought to preserve forests around the world, campaigned against overfishing, and supported industrialists.

Known to be blunt, he also had several scandals for off-colour, racist comments that Elizabeth seemed exasperated by when confiding to me, as this was not the Philip she loved. She didn't like remembering these times, instead wishing to remember his fierce devotion and protective nature towards his family, not liking to see the failures of three of their four chidrens' marriages. His love of staying active right until the end, his love of horses, and travelling the world as a representative of the the monarchy.

Right up until the end, Elizabeth had the support of her beloved Prince, her eternal partner. He was her strength through it all, so after all she confided to me through her sadness, I wasn't surprised that my time with Her Majesty was short, that she couldn't survive in this world for long without her Prince Philip. ♥