Who doesn't love that scene where Henry and Danielle first meet? Watching it again recently, a new detail jumped out at me, and I was inspired to write this story.

For my own reference: 84th fanfiction, 2nd story for Ever After.

Danielle cried harder, pressing her teary face into the pillow. She had not wept from sorrow in so long that she had almost forgotten what an untidy, unpleasant experience it was. She had wept with pain when her children were born, and with joy when she held them in her arms for the first time. But crying from sadness was very different. She had almost forgotten how much deeper the sobs were, and how much harder they racked her body.

Danielle was lying sprawled across the large, canopied bed in her and Henry's chambers in the castle, crying, while Henry sat on the edge and tried to comfort her. "He had a long, full life, Danielle," he said softly, stroking her back with one hand, "and the stable-master said that he probably didn't suffer at all. It was fast. I'm sure it was very peaceful."

Earlier that afternoon, the master of the royal horse-stables had come to the castle to tell Danielle in person, and as gently as he could, that her most beloved horse, Tencendur, had just died suddenly. One of the stable-boys had gone to his large, comfortable stall to give him some oats and found him lying stiff and cold among the hay. Certainly, his death wasn't shocking - Tencendur had been the oldest of all the horses in the stables, for he had belonged to Danielle's father when she was a little girl - but still, she was devastated.

Now, Danielle raised her head from the pillow a bit and stopped crying for long enough to answer Henry, "I know, but I just - oh, I can't bear to think of Tencendur dying all alone in his stall. I wish I'd been there with him. I would've been, if I'd known he was about to..." She stopped abruptly when the tears almost overwhelmed her again. She sniffled and added softly, "But it was so sudden... just like with Papa."

Henry realized then that his wife's tears weren't only for Tencendur. She hadn't just lost a horse. She'd lost one of her last links to her father. He shifted across the bed, closer to her, and held out a handkerchief. Hoping that it would help her to remember happier times, he asked, "Who named him Tencendur?"

Danielle took the handkerchief from him and wiped her face. "Papa did," she said, a bit calmer now. "He named him that after Charlemagne's horse - you know, in The Song of Roland?" Henry nodded. He'd read it himself, when he was a boy. "Papa always used to read that story to me when I was little. I loved it. I loved adventure stories."

Henry smiled. "Of course you did." Then he grew serious again, remembering. "He - Tencendur was the horse I stole from you that morning, wasn't he?" What a royal fool he must've looked that morning when they first met, falling off the horse and fumbling about in his purple robes, trying to shield himself from the apples that Danielle was flinging at him.

Danielle must've been remembering it too, for she smiled a bit. "That's right. That's why I was so angry at you for taking him." That, Henry knew now, was why she had tried to offer him another horse, a younger horse, after she realized who he was. How it must have crushed her to think that the prince was taking her favorite horse, her late father's horse, perhaps for good - and yet she could've done nothing to stop him, for she was only a commoner then, and he only an arrogant prince too narrow-minded to see beyond royal privileges.

Danielle was silent for a moment, wondering. If Henry had stolen some other horse, would she still have been so angry at him? Would she have still chased after him and thrown apples at his head with such a fury? Perhaps not, and then perhaps Henry would never have given a second glance to the peasant girl in the fields that morning. Perhaps they wouldn't be lying here on this bed in the castle right now. In a way, Danielle supposed that Tencendur had brought the two of together. He was always such a loyal horse, who'd done so much for her... and now, he was gone. He was gone, and she hadn't even been there when he died. Danielle felt a fresh wave of tears coming on.

She took a deep breath, to keep from crying again, and added, "That was the first time I ever saw you, when you were riding Tencendur." It was strange to think that her husband had come riding into her life on the very same horse that her father had been riding when he left it. "And the last time I saw Papa... he was riding Tencendur, too."

Henry was surprised by this. Danielle had told him that her father died when she was just a little girl, when his heart suddenly gave out while he was riding his horse. But she hadn't mentioned... "That was Tencendur?" No wonder Danielle was so heartbroken over the horse's death. He had actually been there with her when her father died.

Danielle could only nod, her throat too tight to answer. She remembered kneeling in the path, just inside the manor gate, crying over her father's body, while Tencendur trotted fretfully around them, whinnying and lowering his head to nudge her father's body with his muzzle. He wouldn't stop until Maurice took him back to the stable, and he'd had to drag the horse away, for Tencendur had not wanted to leave his fallen master. Danielle imagined that Tencendur thought that if he could just nudge Auguste with his muzzle one more time, he would get up and be all right again.

The weeks after her father's death were the hardest and loneliest of Danielle's life. She was so mad with grief that sometimes she acted more like a feral animal than a little girl, and her wild behavior only made her stepmother resent her more. Often during that time, Danielle would sneak out to the stables, bury her face in Tencendur's soft, warm mane, and cry and cry.

Henry's voice pulled her out of those sad memories. "You took Augustine for a ride on him, remember?" he asked, trying to cheer her up again. "He was the first horse she ever rode, and he always will be, for as long as she lives."

Danielle's heavy heart brightened a bit at that. Augustine was only four, too young to be riding by herself, but not long ago, Danielle had sat behind her on the horse and held onto her, and they slowly rode Tencendur around the fields behind the castle. Tencendur was old and slow by then, but still strong, and Augustine petted his mane and called him "pretty pony." She liked to feed him oats sometimes, and he would always eat them out of her tiny hands with perfect delicacy, never once nipping her fingers.

Their children were both named after Danielle's parents, but she'd switched the genders, naming their daughter Augustine after her father, and their son Nicholas after her mother. Nicholas was having his afternoon nap right now, in the nursery that adjoined their chambers, and Augustine was outside in the courtyard, playing with Louise and Paulette. They both acted as doting grandmothers to her and Nicholas. Danielle was still nursing Nicholas, who was not yet a year old, and that was probably one reason why Tencendur's death was effecting her so deeply. She'd discovered herself to be more emotional when she was pregnant or nursing. Sometimes she hated it.

Danielle squeezed Henry's hand with her own. "Augustine might not even remember him," she realized, "but we'll tell her about him, won't we?"

"We will," Henry promised, "and she's going to love horses for the rest of her life because of him."

Danielle smiled through her tears.

Danielle still had that terrible old dream sometimes - the nightmare about seeing her father die. Again and again over the years, she'd found herself there on the main path of the manor where she'd grown up, watching in horror as he collapsed. The night after Tencendur died, she had the dream again, but this time, it was different. She waited to hear her father moan, to see him slump and fall off Tencendur, but this time, he didn't. He sat up straight and tall, and Tencendur, a young horse again, trotted briskly down the path until he reached the gate. Just before they passed through it, Tencendur turned around to face her, and her father finally did what he had meant to do on that terrible day. He smiled at Danielle, waved, and blew her a kiss. Danielle waved back to him, and her heart beat in time with Tencendur's hooves on the gravel as they turned back and passed through the gate at last.

Danielle watched them go, and she knew, somehow, that she would not see it again. She understood that she was dreaming - even though the cool morning air and the fresh smell of the grass felt as real as anything - and she felt certain that now that her father and Tencendur had finally passed through the gate, she would never have this dream again. This time, beyond the gate lay not the usual tree-lined roadway, but something else - a strange, pure white light, almost too blinding to look at, and her father and Tencendur rode straight into this light and disappeared. Danielle could not see what lay beyond the light, but this did not trouble her, for she knew that she would find out some day.

And the next morning, she woke up from the dream with a smile on her face.

FIN