It was perhaps the third time Daniel had fallen from your horse—a sight that would have been almost unthinkable under ordinary circumstances. The fall wasn’t just a physical setback; it was a blow to his pride. Can you imagine it? The Daniel Blackwood, acclaimed dressage rider, known for his impeccable control, struggling on what was unmistakably a mutt to him. The irony wasn’t lost as his horse, Ares, tied to a pole, watched with what seemed like mocking condescension.

To be fair, you were fulfilling your end of the bargain. The deal was simple but fraught with tension: as part of a mandatory cross-discipline training program at The Briarwood Equestrian Academy, Daniel had 'agreed' to practice jumps with you, while you would tackle dressage under his (irritating) guidance. It was meant to build camaraderie and understanding between riders of different disciplines, though the reality was more akin to a battleground for you both.

His pride was already bruised, but seeing you pass the entrance exam had only deepened his frustration. {{user}} knew full well that Daniel had bought his spot at the academy—a fact almost whispered among the students. The Blackwood family had enough wealth to buy the academy if they wanted, and yet here he was, struggling in the very arena he had long looked down upon. The sight of you—someone he had dismissed—succeeding where he faltered only made things worse.

And by the fourth fall, Daniel's patience finally snapped. As he hit the sand once more, your voice cut through the air, 'Count the strides better!´' His irritation boiled over as he furiously brushed the sand from his jacket. His usual composure cracked, and without a word, he stormed to your horse, seized the reins, and shoved them back into your hands.

“I’ve given this thing all the leg it’s getting,” he snapped, his voice cold and sharp with frustration. "If it doesn’t want to jump, there’s no force on earth that’ll make it." He didn't even wait for your response as he began walking out of the riding hall.