Hard To Resist

Decided to name him “Raiden” as he has quite the thunderous and stormy personality xD 

GFE Wrath Of Atreus 

My bid for HIP 008 colt from the Ballenclieff yearly auction because I cannot resist xD 

___

Golden Fields Equestrian wasn’t doing well. Amalie had managed to get some very, very decent horses under its colours but no winnings and a jockey that could race but didn’t bring results. To be fair he was working as a model as well but that’s not was she needed, she needed help and certainly not more horses. 

Enter the girlfriend. 

Freya could spot a problem in Amalie’s life a mile away and the pair were truly best friends. Freya didn’t have an eye for horses but she had one for people and right now Amalie needed that more. 

“Miguel seemed surprised to see me, does he know that I have a claim to the east-facing guest room in your house or does he think he runs it?” Freya grumbled as she nonchalantly leaned on a fence. Ever since finding out about Miguel’s romantic interest in Amalie Freya had gone full-overprotective best friend mode on him; she was an avid shipper of what she had dubbed ‘Amarley’ after all and the relationship was starting to look neglected at best to those on the outside and a self-important jock was the last thing Freya wanted in the picture. 

“The latter, I think, funny considering he’s not doing what I pay him for.” Amalie muttered as another one of the Ballenclieff yearlings was led off. 

“Thinking of sacking him?” 

“Can’t; I can’t run two stables on my own, I can hardly run one.” Amalie sighed, stress clear in every fibre. Freya stood up and started to rub her shoulders, resisting making a jest about scurrying off to drink tequila, paint each other’s nails and braid each other’s hair like most girls do when they need girl time. 

“And we think buying another horse - or knowing you - another pair of horses is a good idea because...?” 

“Because Ballenclieff has some incredible horses, I mean, Connachan beat Fox in the Preakness. Golden Fields needs quality like that... Lord knows I need a head start with the GFE horses.” Amalie sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. Freya looked on, concerned. 

“Listen... would it help if I moved down with you? I know we joke that I’d get your room when you leave and stuff but... I miss my girl, you know? And I know my stuff, you know I do - nor am I afraid of stepping on the toes of pretty boy. I hate seeing you so stressed and maybe having an extra pair of hands wouldn’t hurt?” 

“I can’t ask you to move, Freya.” 

“I’m offering. The boy’s’ll survive and you come up to Antrium all the time anyway, I can just come too if I really missed people. GFE has room for my chariots, just give me a workshop and some Stables for the Bengalo’s and I’m fine.” Freya grinned at her and lightly shoved her shoulder. “Consider it, huh?” 

Just then the number eight colt was led out and holy crap did he make an entrance. He was as loud as his coat was striking and his electric blue eyes were brimming with fire. He pulled his handler around like he meant some serious business and every muscle in his lean, long-legged body pulsed with energy. “Holy... no wonder Miguel wanted him...” 

“Pretty Boy wants him?” Freya asked, not taking her eyes off the colt, who stretched his neck to full size to look out at the crowd. “Wooow... that’s a sexy colt, right there...” 

“Yeah... to both. Miguel wanted a more fiery tempered horse but he can hardly produce results on docile horses so I didn’t think it was advantageous...” 

“Oh, certainly not for Miguel... but if I’m moving in I want that colt.” 

“Say no more, sister.” 

Amalie rose her card to bid, eyes roving over the stance and sheer confidence exuded by the colt. Even without the almost Royal way he carried himself, the colt was huge, the biggest in the entire sale and judging my his too-long legs and neck he’d yet to finish. She could see him reaching 17hh easily. His legs kicked and pawed at the ground, strong legs that looked like they’d carry thunder. 

The bay splash colt snorted and reared, frustrated with his handler, demanding all eyes on him. Even throwing his mini tantrum he looked handsome as all hell, that silky white tail contrasting his black personality and body was the stuff worthy of paintings. He’d be hard to win, that was sure but, oh, he’d be worth it, both Amalie and Freya were already invested in this Demi-god of a colt.

It was so easy to picture him throwing tantrums during work, as though he wasn’t happy with his jockey and if Amalie was being truthful she could happily envision Miguel struggling to hold the colt before being tossed down like a rag doll. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had been gifted the mental image as Freya spoke up. 

“I can bet anything he’d be the type to throw his rider and run riot.” 

“Bottle of Craigellachie says he’ll jump the railings if he does.” 

“Oh, you’re on, girlfriend.”