Albian (Unicorn Centaur)
Rating: Teen
Relationship: Female Reader/Male Unicorn Centaur
Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Centaur, Unicorn Centaur
Series: Shelter Forest
Words: 4681
A multi-part commission for @sammiesamr! A young woman from a nearby town runs across a centaur stuck in a bush on her way to Declan's farm. Please reblog and leave feedback!
The Traveler’s Masterlist
Your parents did a lot of business with the family in the forest, an odd collection of humans and non-humans alike, led by a gigantic bat patriarch named Declan. Your parents owned a general store in Tandale and your mother had been trading with Declan’s family since before you were born, and you’d grown up with their kids in the same way as the kids from Tandale, your hometown. There was a strange separation between the two that was lost on you sometimes. It was almost as if most people didn’t have a secret stash of friends living in the woods.
Declan’s large clan was an open secret in most of the surrounding villages; everyone knew about it but they didn’t talk about it in the open. There was an unspoken understanding to protect the little haven in the woods, especially considering how much help they had given without any expectation of return. Declan and his family had done a lot of things for a lot of folks over the decades, and though they’d likely never cash in, they were owed a lot of favors.
You were heading toward the farm, the sound of the autumn leaves crunching under your feet and the crisp air tickling the tip of your nose. You were hoping they had some of the seashells that you used to make a pretty pearly white paint that really popped in ways that paint made from other mediums didn’t. Painting was something of a hobby for you, though you dreamed of being able to make a living doing it. You had made some coin for it every now and then, too, selling small paintings on slices of wood in your parents’ store.
You knew the route well enough to take the woods rather than the road, as the road could sometimes be lousy with bandits. Between Declan’s formidable children and Asker’s surly brood, who weren’t exactly friendly but didn’t attack people without reason, you didn’t have to worry about dangerous animals or people trying to take a bite out of you.
Your steps were stilled when you heard a truly creative string of curses far too your right. Your anxiety spiked a little, but you thought the voice sounded more desperate than angry, and you were worried that it was someone who needed help.
You carefully stepped around the underbrush in an effort to make as little noise as possible, creeping closer to the source of the voice.
You saw the lower half of a small horse or a large deer, its coat white as snow and very shiny. The hooves, digging into the dirt as they frantically pawed the ground, were cloven and iridescent black like beetle shells. There were cuts and scrapes all over his rump and spine, his blood jewel-like and strangely more pink than red. The thin, whippy tail, ending in a tuft of glowing white fur, thrashed here and there in a frantic attempt to counterbalance the upper half of the body.
The upper half was that of a man, the skin of which was as pale and translucent as his lower half, a line of silk-fine fur running down his humanoid spine. Most of it was obscured by the large bush of brambles he seemed to have gotten himself stuck in, half standing, half kneeling.
“Are you alright?” You called to him.
He stopped shuffling momentarily.
“Ah… yes, I’m fine,” He said, laughing nervously. His voice had the high smoothness of a tenor. “Please don’t mind me.”
“Are you sure?” You said.
“Of course, of course, please go on ahead, I’ll be just fine.”
“Alright… if you’re sure…”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for your concern.”
“Well… goodbye then.”
“Yes, farewell.”
After a moment of reluctance, you left him in the brush and continued to the farm.
The harvest had come and gone, and now the farm was in the middle of preserving and saving for the winter. Many of the adult children were out on the long, wrap-around porch, washing and shelling the vegetables to be pickled, canned, and jarred.
Soraya, the smaller bat child, stood when she saw you approach.
“Hello, there!” She said, propelling herself forward with her winged arms. “Welcome back! Did you come for a visit or to do business?”
“A little of both, I guess,” You said, giving her a friendly one-armed hug around her neck. “Where are your parents?”
“Papa is bathing in the river and Mama is keeping watch. Honestly, I think they just wanted some alone time.” She winked at you. “They’re still very much in love, those two. I hope I’m just as spry as them when I’m their age.”
You blushed and didn’t comment on that. “Do you have any more seashells or coral to sell that’s good for making paint? I have some things to trade.”
“Yeah, of course, come on up,” Soraya said. “Caeli, do you remember where the seashells are?”
“Yeah, I’ll go get them.” Caeli got up and went inside. Caeli was Soraya's spouse: a young person with tan skin and long, dark hair braided down their back, wearing a blouse and sensible trousers. They had been raised as a girl, but recently had made the determination that they weren’t either a boy or a girl and began embracing their androgyny.
“Can I help out?” You asked.
“Sure,” Said Reed, a cervitaur. “Here, there’s a space. Can you start on shelling the peas?”
“Absolutely.” You sat down cross-legged and began hulling peas. “Where’s Yala?”
“Putting the children down for their afternoon nap. She may fall asleep, too, so we might not see her until supper,” He said, laughing.
Caeli returned with the shells, and after bartering, you returned to shelling while having a pleasant talk with the others. Declan and Ryel came back up from the river about an hour later, both damp, and sat down with everyone else, taking up the work as well. What followed was a comfortable afternoon of calm conversation over the communal work of autumn. This was one of the reasons you liked the farm so much. Slow, steady, and comfortable.
About an hour before sundown, you decided it was time to head home. The family sent you off with fond goodbyes and an entire pound of hulled peas. You went back the same way you had come, and just as you were wondering how the centaur was doing, you saw his rump sitting on the ground, having not moved from the spot. It seemed as if he had given up.
“Hey, are you alright?” You asked, coming closer. You found that there were more wounds on his body, both the horse half and the human half.
“...no, I’m afraid not,” He finally admitted. “My horn is stuck. Can you please help me?”
Horn? “Of course, just a moment,” You said, setting down your bag and pulling out a knife you kept for both utility and protection, and a pair of shears. You began to cut and snip through the thorny branches. “Keep still.”
“No choice, have I?” He said with a self-deprecating laugh. You felt pretty bad for him and annoyed with yourself. How long had he been stuck here? You shouldn’t have left him earlier.
It took quite a while, and the setting sun made it that much more difficult, but eventually you managed to free him from the brambles. You were finally able to see his face and was startled to see that he actually did have a small, silvery, spiral horn rising from the widow’s peak just below his hairline. The skin around the horn was torn quite badly and the horn itself had a gouge in it with a thorny vine wrapped around it.. There was a drop of blood trickling down his forehead and nose. His baby face was sweet and angelic-looking, though it was covered with cuts and scrapes. His eyes were large, lavender in color, and almond shaped, framed with long white lashes.
He was… beautiful, more than beautiful,, despite being covered in wounds from head to hoof. It almost hurt your eyes to look at him, he was so lovely.
“How did this happen?” You asked him, taking a cloth from your bag and wetting it from your water skin, dabbing the cuts on his face.
He sighed and looked away in shame. “I was trying to hide,” He said. “I heard a large group of hunters coming through the forest and I didn’t want to be spotted. I guess I chose the wrong bush to hide in, since as soon as I got in there, one of the branches snagged my horn and hair and I couldn’t for the life of me get free.”
“Why were you trying to hide?” You asked.
“I’m… rare…” He said, shrugging shyly. “And because of that, people think I’m lucky or that my body parts contain magical properties. I tried living amongst other people for years, but the danger has become too much. I was going to this place in the woods I heard about, a farm I think they said? I heard it was a safe place for people like me.”
“Oh! That’s Declan’s place! I just came from there, I can show you the way.”
He eyed you with suspicion. “Really?”
“Of course, let’s get there and get your injuries tended to. Some of those look really deep.”
He frowned a little, as if unsure if he could trust you. You imagined he’d been betrayed quite a bit if secluding himself at Declan’s farm was his last hope for living a safe life.
“Here,” You said, handing him your knife and shears. “Keep these with you until we get to the farm, if it’ll make you feel safer. But we should go, it’ll be dark soon, and you don’t want to be out in these woods in the dark. Lots of things hunt in these woods that are worse than humans.”
“I doubt that,” He mumbled, but he took the weapons slowly and nodded. “Please lead the way.”
You started walking back toward the farm quickly, not necessarily in a hurried manner, but not at your normal pace. You weren’t kidding about being in the woods after dark.
“What’s your name?” You asked.
“Albian,” He said.
“That’s a pretty name,” You said.
“Thanks,” He said with another self-deprecating laugh. “It’s actually my baby name, it’s just never changed.”
“Baby name?”
“Yeah, in my culture, we receive different names when we reach certain milestones in our lives: ‘baby names’, which are given to us at birth by a priest or priestess, and they sort of act as a blessing of health since we have a high infant mortality rate among my people. And then ‘given names’, which we get from our parents if we survive to age five that are based on their wishes for us as we age. ‘Adolescent names’ we get from siblings or friends when we turn sixteen that are based on our personality. Lastly ‘wedded names’ that we get from our spouses when we marry, which are hopes for our futures. Wedded names are private names only used by spouses to refer to each other; they wouldn’t be used by family or friends.” He seemed to be rambling from nervousness.
“Whoa, that’s fascinating,” You said. You almost asked why he hadn’t received his given and adolescent names yet, but you stopped yourself. Considering he was alone and had none of his own people with him, it wasn’t hard to assume that there was a reason his friends and family weren’t in a position to give him his names, and every reason you could think of was a bad one. “Well, maybe the blessing for health worked?”
He half-smiled. “Maybe. I’ve never been sick and other than that blasted bush, I’ve kept from getting injured. Mostly.”
“What about people who don’t marry?”
“Oh, they keep their adolescent names unless they petition to have it altered. Those are known as selfset names.”
“Huh.” You looked forward and saw the trees beginning to thin out. “Oh, look, there it is, you can see the farmhouse.”
You pointed through the trees at the house in the dimming light of dusk, the lights inside warm and glowing. Albian breathed a sigh of relief and handed you back your tools.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
“Do you know them well?” He asked.
“Oh, yeah. My parents have been trading with them since I was a baby, so I’ve grown up around them. They’re great people. This is the safest place in the whole world, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Honestly, it’s reassuring to hear you say that,” He said with a relieved laugh. “I was really worried they might turn me away for coming unannounced.”
“No, never,” You insisted. “They genuinely love unannounced guests. Come on.”
You led him to the porch and climbed up, knocking on the kitchen door. Ryel opened it and looked at you in surprise.
“I thought you were headed home, child. Is everything alright?” She asked.
“Yeah, I found a lost lamb looking for a pasture,” You said, waving Albian forward. He stepped into the porchlight sheepishly. “I found him in the forest looking for the farm. His name is Albian and he needs a safe place to stay.”
“Well, you’ve certainly found what you’re looking for, love, come on in,” She said, stepping back and opening the double doors to let you both in.
“Thank you very much, madam,” Albian said, stepping inside and looking around cautiously.
“Call me Ryel. Or Mama, if you’re so inclined. Goodness, look at that face, all scratched up. Lymera, will you run and fetch some salve from the wet room, please?” Ryel asked one of her daughters, a young faun woman and a priestess-in-training.
“Yes, Mama,” Lymera said, standing.
The entire family was there, as dinner was in progress. The house had been designed with the size of its occupants in mind; most of the bottom floor was a kitchen and living space with no walls or doors separating them, since it needed to be quite big and open in order for the larger family members to fit inside comfortably. The ceiling was high enough that nine-foot Declan could stand up to his full height without hitting his head.
There was a standing table for the four-legged family, as well as a sitting table for the two-legged ones. Albian saw Reed kneeling on a cushion at the sitting table next to his wife and children, and visibly relaxed. Reed was another breed of centaur that was very rare, so his presence must have allayed Albian remaining anxiety.
“Come settle down and have some food, you two,” Ryel said, ushering both of you inside and to a table. “We always have plenty of room. Everyone, this is Albian. He needs a place to stay.”
They all welcomed him warmly, shaking his hands and patting his shoulders, and a plate loaded down with pan-fried vegetables and fresh fruit was placed in front of him. Ryel must have assumed he was vegetarian, since all of the other centaurs were. He seemed rather dazed by all of the unreserved kindness, but it was then that he smiled; the first genuine smile you had seen, and it lit up the entire room. It was like a thousand pounds had been lifted off of his shoulders.
“You should stay the night, too, love,” Ryel said to you as she put a plate in front of you as well. “It’s far too late to traverse the woods, even with an escort.”
“I’d appreciate that, Miss Ryel, thank you,” You replied, reaching for a barley roll. “It won’t be the first time I decided not to go home after coming here, so I’m sure my parents won’t mind as long as I’m home at a reasonable time tomorrow..”
Declan laughed, his voice as deep as a cavern. “I’m not sure if your parents are happy or unhappy about how much time you spend here.”
“Well, they only have themselves to blame,” You replied with a chuckle. “You folks are too effective as babysitters.”
There was a collective titter of laughter around the tables just as five year old Asahi jumped up and squealed because he couldn’t reach his cup. You reached across and nudged the cup closer to him, and he quieted.
Albian seemed terribly anxious and withdrawn when he arrived, but he had calmed considerably since coming to rest at the table. After a while, he began to engage in conversation with the others, rather than giving mumbled answers whenever he was asked a question. He opened up slowly as Ryel treated his wounds, and the others, being well acquainted with handling nervy, skittish newcomers, did what they could to reassure him.
You were led to a guest room that night and watched from the window as Reed led Albian to the barn, where the four-legged family members slept. Before disappearing inside, he looked up briefly and met your gaze, smiling and waving. You waved back.
The next morning, you came down to join the family for breakfast, and Albian was sitting among them as if he’d always been there, his gossamer hair was braided back and tied with a bit of blue ribbon. His cuts were almost completely healed. He’d become fast friends with Reed, having bonded over shared experiences.
“Good morning!” Albian said brightly as you stepped down the stairs. His anxious demeanor had disappeared completely, and now he was as bright and open as a puppy.
You smiled back at him. “Good morning yourself,” You replied. “You seem to be in much better spirits today.”
He nodded and grinned happily. “I’m glad to have woken up to find that this place wasn’t a dream. It took me so long to get here that I thought I might never make it. It’s almost hard to believe I’ve arrived at last.”
“How long were you traveling?”
“Over a year,” He said, taking some slices of apple.
“My goodness,” You said. “Where were you coming from?”
“Pretty far,” He said, his eyes darkening slightly. “There were… significant, unavoidable delays.”
You didn’t like the sudden turn in his mood back to gloomy anxiousness, so you changed the subject. “I hope you like to cook. It’s the making and saving part of the year. Lots of canning and jarring to be done.”
He chuckled and scratched behind his ear in an unsure sort of way. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about it, but I’m happy to learn.”
“I do like folks who are eager,” Ryel said, taking a bite of her oats in milk. “We won’t throw you into the deep end just yet, lad; simple corn shucking will suit you fine to start off with.”
“‘Shucking’ is a word I’ve never heard before, but please feel free to educate me,” Albian said with a smile.
“Don’t worry, I’ve done my share of shucking on this farm,” You told him. “I’ll show you the ropes.”
He gave you a blinding smile that made your face flush. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”
Shucking corn, though tedious, wasn’t hard, and Albian got the hang of it quickly. He asked you questions about yourself, and you couldn’t help but notice that when you asked him about himself, he was evasive and changed the subject back around to you.
Around midday, after a generous lunch, you decided it was time to go home. Any later and your parents would definitely worry and maybe even show up at the farm, looking for you. Yew agreed to go with you, and you asked Albian if he’d like to accompany you.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d like to introduce you to my parents,” You explained. “They come to the farm often for bartering, so I don’t want you to be surprised by them. And it’ll be good for you to know the way to town if anything happens.”
He seemed apprehensive, but he agreed all the same.
Tandale was a very small, developing town consisting of around thirty families on the outskirts of the forest. Everyone knew everyone, and nothing was private. That was probably the part you hated the most about it, especially as your personal anxieties increased as you aged. It was hard to voice your worries when everyone you’d ever known wrote you off as being dramatic or hysterical, and it made you feel even more insecure.
It also wasn’t great for romance, either, since you’d grown up running around and climbing trees with most of the boys in the village and saw them all as cousins, if not brothers. They were all cookie cutter versions of each other, who all drank the same homebrewed beer, had the same typical young-man hobbies, and thought the same thoughts. They weren’t bad, they were just… small town boys with small town minds, and not what you wanted. You didn’t feel like you should have to settle for a lad you used to take baths with as a tot because there weren’t any other options. Jameson was one such lad.
Jameson was around the same age as you, pale complected, with dirty blond hair and brown eyes. He was a bit taller than you and medium build. He wasn’t unattractive, but in your eyes, he was just like every other boy in your town.
He was walking out of your family’s store when you arrived with Yew and Albian. He’d met Yew before, since he and several other human and “human-like” races from the farm came to the store with regularity, but he looked at Albian sideways.
“Hey there, my love!” He said, and you tried your best not to cringe visibly. “I was just looking for you.” He pulled a handful of wildflowers out of his coat. “For you.”
You sighed internally and took them. “Thanks.”
“Your parents said you were out overnight,” Jameson said, and you caught a hint of accusation in his tone. Jameson jerked his chin at Albian. “And who’s this, then?”
Albian began to speak, as if to introduce himself, but you shook your head subtly for him to stay silent.
“He’s a new friend of mine, Jameson,” You said simply, without elaboration. “He’s come to live with the family in the forest.”
“Oh, those weirdos?” Jameson said, and you could almost feel Albian stiffen. “I don’t like you associatin’ with those folks.”
“That’s not up to you, Jameson,” You said, keeping your voice pleasant and steady. “They’ve been my friends longer than you have.”
“It ain’t right for a pretty little thing like you to be mixed up with… with strange types.”
Jameson decided against whatever it was he was going to say, as Yew was there with you and could very well stomp Jameson into the ground, if he had a mind to it. Yew wasn’t as large as his brother, Birch, but he was still pretty big.
“I don’t think they’re strange at all,” You said.
He laughed. “Well, I’m not attracted to you for your thinkin’, that’s for sure.”
Albian began to paw the ground and step side to side, as centaurs often did when they were anxious or upset. Yew was used to Jameson’s snide comments and didn’t react, except to step forward slightly one your other side, as if subtly reminding Jameson that he was still there and very much aware of the conversation.
“Jameson, I need to go and see my parents, so I’ll talk to you at another time, alright?”
“Sure, sure,” Jameson got close to you and pulled you into a one armed hug, which caused you to stiffen. You knew he wouldn’t let go until you reciprocated, so you patted him lightly on the back a total of twice, and he released you. “Come to the tavern later, eh?”
You shrugged noncommittally, and Jameson bumped your chin with his finger before trotting off.
“Why do you let that fellow speak to you in such a manner?” Albain asked. “If this is how he treats you in the presence of others, I can’t imagine how he treats you when you’re alone. Nothing against you, but you could find a much better lover than him.”
“He’s not my lover,” You said, blushing and laughing nervously.
He looked at you with a puzzled expression. “He seems to think otherwise.”
“I know,” You said, rolling your eyes and sighing. “I’ve told him many times that I’m not interested in being anything more than friends, but he’s had it in his head that I’m going to marry him someday, he’s just waiting for me to come to my senses.”
“If marrying that fool is supposed to be you coming to your senses, stay senseless,” Albian said.
You laughed through your nose. “I plan to.”
“Why do you tolerate such behavior?”
You shrugged. “Well, I mean… we grew up together and we were good friends when we were kids; it’s only been in the last five years or so that he’s gotten a bee in his bonnet about this. We live in the same small town, and we’re practically next door neighbors. Being nasty to him would only hurt me in the long run. Besides, I don’t like confrontation. It’s easier on my peace of mind to keep my distance rather than deal with his whining. I just do what I can to avoid him.”
“Take it from an expert on not being confrontational,” Albian said, his eyes stern but sad. “It’s only a matter of time before they bring the confrontation to you, and suddenly you’re backed into a corner with no one on your side to help you, through no fault of your own. It’s how people get hurt or even killed. Just… be careful.”
You wanted to argue that Jameson would never do anything to hurt you, but you knew this warning was a hard-learned lesson that should be heeded. Despite your intense curiosity about his past, the look in his eyes prevented you from prying. You nodded instead.
“Hey there, honey!” Your mother came out of the store and down the steps, pulling you into a hug. “You almost had us worried.”
“Sorry,” You said, but you didn’t elaborate: you didn’t want to embarrass Albian with a story he might not want told. “This is Albian. He’s a new addition to Declan’s family.
“Oh, welcome!” Your mother said, extending a hand. “You’ll be seeing quite a lot of me and my husband. Joseph! Come and say hello!”
Your father also poked his head out of the door. “Oh, hello! There’s a new face!”
“Hello, sir,” Albian said, bowing his head a little in respect. “I’m a new arrival at the farm.”
“Well, welcome!” Your father said, stepping out onto the small porch, wiping his hands. He was likely in the middle of making soap.
Albian laughed self-consciously, a small smile on his face. “Thank you. I’m very happy to be here.”
“Canning is still going on, so you two should get back soon,” You said. “I’ll be back up to the farm sometime this week.”
“We’re always happy to see you, Pip,” Yew said with a cheeky grin, tapping your chin softly, and you laughed. This interaction was so much different than the interaction you’d had with Jameson, mostly because Yew understood boundaries far better than Jameson. Yew had been one of your best friends since you were young, but his attitude never changed toward you; he always treated you like a sister. Yew was also attracted to men, so you were certain he wasn’t attempting to hit on you.
Albian flicked his skinny tail to and fro twice, and then turned toward the forest to depart.
“Thank you, by the way,” He said. “For helping me. For coming back and not passing by. And… for not being cruel.”
Again, a pang of worried curiosity shot through you. “You’re very welcome. See you again soon.”
“See you soon,” He agreed. He smiled and followed Yew into the trees and out of sight.
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