Bren prided herself in her ability to hide her real feelings in the way a man would. Soon after finding out Vergil was whoring himself for some pocket change from the pitying noble women she called him disgusting. Hid the concern that boiled inside her, proudly. Of course, it did help that despite living as a boy, she in no way felt like one. Though, she did try rather hard to pretend to in order to complete the illusion or otherwise, convince even herself; thereby, erasing the anxiety of her sex. Finally, in the most male fashion she could evict, when Ethan began to treat her coldly, she gave it back tenfold. She would be lying if she said she didn't find any pleasure in doing so.
In fact, she’d gone above and beyond in bullying her step brother. Going as far as to insult her daddy’s suit. She even insinuated it was her who had destroyed it and took the blame for her now ex-kinda-friend’s behavior. She'd only attempted to get along with him as he was the brother of a young lady she was close with, Tara. She had told her how angry she'd been about Ethan's intensions to wear it, making the mistake of allowing her brother to listen in. The lesson? Men couldn’t be trusted, afterall. Daddy was, of course, the exception. Her hero. Her one and forever only confidant.
The memory still haunted her, the curse of being born female. But at the end of that horror was him: bursting through the flames to save her. Even before father had passed—when she was just some strange child to him—he still came for her. He always had.
"And that’s checkmate, baby," Bren winked at her friend across from her. Tara pouted at the Chess board.
Tara sat up, her hands coming to fold on her lap. "I wish to try again. Please?" The pout on her lips was exaggerated by the chubbiness of her youth and her high pitched voice made her whine ear piercing. Though 4 years her junior, Bren still found her good company. Their frequent time together did have consequences.
Bren leaned back, one foot on her knee, the front legs of the chair floated in the air. "Tara, hun, I got things to do, people to meet. I can’t just keep mindlessly beating you at chess."
Tara scoffed and rolled her eyes, then turned her head to pout in another direction.
The chess pieces jumped as hands slammed down on the table. Bren’s chair fell forward, legs dug into the dirt, as she crossed her arms and glared at the man who’d come between them. He had a smug look on his face that she wanted to punch off.
"Come on, Bren, you know how it is with these females," he said glancing in Tara’s direction.
She felt the well of disgust and anger bubble in her gut and her fist tightened in preparation.
"Chess doesn’t just take skill, but you need smarts too and women’s brains just, agh!"
Bren didn’t let him finish the sentence before her fist made contact with the center of his gut. He dropped on the table, scattering the wooden chess board and pieces across the table and the ground. His pained expression brought a sense of Joy to her and she smiled over his face.
"Then, Mal, how about you show that male ‘intelligence’ of yours and play a game against her?"
He pushed himself up, still leaned over the table, there was drool dripping from the corner of his mouth, "Give me a break, why do I have to lower myself by playing against a woman?"
In a split second, Bren’s hand forced the boy’s head against the table—right where a bit of his spittle had dripped— knocking down the board and the rest of the pieces on the ground. "Clean up the board and play against my friend here if you don’t want your teeth to make friends with the ground."
He attempted to push her hand off of him, but she pushed even harder, "Alright, alright, get off me. You and your brothers are all alike, vulgar and violent, and pissing yourselves to fawn over women." She let go of his head and he stood back up. When she lunged at him he jumped back away from her and twitched. She felt a tumult of satisfaction.
He wiped the bit of blood from his lip that he must have bit in the process of head meeting solid object. "I’ll win a game or two against you," he looked toward Tara, somehow regaining his smug smile.
Tara sat daintily, a pretty feminine smile on her lips. She kept that going even after her fourth win. "Did you still want to try again?" She asked him. "It seems like you still haven’t warmed up. Or perhaps, is luck on my side?"
Bren was leaned back against a tree, arms crossed. "He’s done."
There was a reason Bren preferred Tara’s company. While Bren still won everyone of their games, it was getting more and more difficult and she was happy to watch her growth and be a contributing factor. She was however, behind her friend in poker. Not only did Bren suck at gambling of any kind, poker required some bluffing which she lacked the talent for. Skill based, tactical games were Bren's specialty.
"Say," Bren pressed her head back against the tree, chin lifted. "If women don’t have the brain for this kind of thing, like you believe, what does that make you? In either case," she moved toward them. "The answer will always be that you are a brainless insect."
He gritted his teeth, swiped the chess board and pieces across the table and scattered them on the ground. Then he jumped to his feet and rushed toward Bren. She stepped to the side and outstretched her arm, causing him to run into it and fall over. She laughed as the top of his head hit the dirt as he attempted to catch himself and he flipped over landing on his back.
"Amazing," she clapped. "Are you training to be a Jester?"
Some older ladies, arm and arm, walked by shaking their heads at them and complaining about kids. It only amused Bren more. She stuck her tongue at them and they blushed, turned their heads away whispering behind their hands, and scampered off quickly.
"You better watch yourself, Bren," he stumbled to his feet. When he wiped the blood from his nose with his knuckles, she saw the scrapes on his palms. There were also tears in his eyes. She didn't feel bad in the slightest, she'd gotten worse play wrestling with her brothers when they were kids.
Thinking of crying reminded her of that night a few days back after Ethan got back. She really did pride herself in her male etiquete, which most other times she pulled off without a hitch. But she truly had a terrible poker face, afterall. The whole suddenness of him being pulled away and no word after so many hours, only for him to come back covered in blood (which at the time she didn't know wasn't his) and the worry came out in tears. Worse of all, he had looked right at her. The next day, she couldn't make the redness and puffiness around her eyes disapear. He hadn't said anything about it, but he was probably going to use it as some sort of blackmail eventually.
"Your older brother, Ethan," he said bringing her attention back to the present. She couldn't help curling her lip at hearing his name. "Isn't the only tough guy around here. I know people who wouldn't be afraid of him."
She raised an eyebrow at that. It was doubtful. Maybe before he became a knight and friend to the crown princess. Even then, that was pushing it. Ethan started building muscle quickly in his teen years and it didn't just have to do with lugging the chicken and goat feed every day. He loved to move, to work, lift, and climb; when they were kids if you couldn't find him, he was in a tree. Vergil would get his panties in twist while playing hide & seek tag. What if his precious, sensitive skin got marred or what if his pretty trousers got torn. Lucky for him, at least, Bren wasn't fond of heights and her tree climbing was limited to the lower branches. Not that she wouldn't follow Ethan up, she was more competitive than scared.
There wasn't need to respond to his threats because he was soon running off.
Bren could see Tara staring at her from the corner of her eye, so she walked over to ruffle her hair. "That guy might have rocks for a brain, but even if it were against someone else, it’d be your game. ‘Cause you know you’re insanely smart, right?"
"Yes," Tara grinned, her lips pushed into her rounded cheeks reminding Bren of a chipmunk. "You should be careful, Bren. Jealous people are dangerous."
"You’re the one that beat his ass," she crossed her arms and leaned her weight on one leg.
"You’re the man here. As far as men like him think, I’m just an extension of you. But it’s not just this time. You confuse them. You hate men and make friends with women that you have no intentions to court. They call you the lady collector."
Bren scoffed, "Am I an exotic animal breeder?"
Tara shook her head, "It sounds ridiculous to a sane person, but I heard it from my brother. They think of us like possessions. It’s why he doesn’t want me around you anymore, because he thinks you're treating me like the other ladies," she put up her hand to stop the retort. Bren's falling out with Tara's brother seemed to effect him more than she'd originally thought. "In the way they think you do, not the way you are. Just be careful," she grabbed Bren’s hands and squeezed them. "With Ethan away more often, I think they’re going to try something."
"I’d like to see them try. My fists have been wanting to make some new aquaintences."
Tara smiled, "Well, just take caution into consideration for once, my dear friend."
"Yeah, sure, for you."
On the way back home, she chose the long way through the forest away from the more often traveled dirt path. Animals were more active, foxes skirted by her, birds sang above in the trees, and there were bees in the flowers on the ground. She squat down, bringing her face eye level, and gently poked one with her finger. Barely a touch, just enough to feel the soft fuzz of her plump body. She shook once Bren removed her touch and flew off to another flower.
It wasn’t something she shared with anyone, but she enjoyed the company of animals. They were easy to understand. She stuck her hand out in her pocket and pulled out some seeds she’d bought earlier. She popped a few in her mouth then held out her hand. Leaves of a tree rustled before a bird flew out of from amongst them and landed on her hand. They were honest and loyal once you’ve treated them right.
"Hey, there bud, I brought your favorite."
A couple more plopped onto her hand to finish off the seeds. She wiped the dust off on her pant leg and continued. There was a sort of vulnerability that couldn’t be helped when around animals, it felt nice to be able to relax and be herself. But it was also exactly why her affections for them was a closely guarded secret. Only the soft could possibly be as attached to sweet defenseless creatures like she was, so was believed. She couldn’t risk being seen as weak or feminine.
Even at home, she’d sneak around to give scratches to the animals in all the places that they loved and call them each by their names. She made sure to complain every time she had to bring the pigs out in the woods to look for truffles. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t was hard work sometimes, but she needed to protect herself the best way she knew how.
She was drawing near to her special spot by a river she often went to be alone. It was peaceful and quiet and helped her think of ideas for her book. She had been writing about a cat going on an adventure in her dream to save her human from an evil magician, who turned out to be her boyfriend in the real world. It was meant as a depiction of the struggles of change and how dreams reflect real thoughts. It was scrapped after Vergil found and read it. He asked if it was intended to be for children knowing full well Bren’s distaste for those little goblins. She’d resonated with it, but she was far too sensitive to the opinions of others. After all, her entire persona relied on being so in order to exist.
Rustling in trees behind her caused her to redirect her path towards home. That hadn’t sounded like an animal. Not the quadrupedal kind anyways. She tried not to let on that she caught on to the stalking. More rustling. There were a few of them. Damn, them. It had to be Mal like Tara warned. The coward knew he couldn’t take her on by himself. There was a clearing up ahead, she’d have an easier time taking her assaulters on in an open space so she could maneuver and dodge. She taught herself to hit hard and where to hit, and to a limit she could take one. But if they were big, she’d be screwed. A couple years back she’s pestered Ethan enough to get a punch in the gut, he’d held back and it still knocked the breath right out of her lungs. It was worth it then, because daddy had taken her side and got her the gold hooped earrings she was wearing now. There wouldn’t be anything good to come out of it this time.
She lifted her hand to one of the earrings, keeping these in could mean a torn earlobe, but putting them in her pocket could get them broken. She left them in.
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