Post by Muse on May 26, 2013 7:41:19 GMT 10
Title: This Way Comes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 560
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: George tries to keep an eye on the Palace while Alanna’s adventuring, but the more he learns, the more horrified he becomes.
With Alanna gone, George felt pulled in many directions.
In the long months since Port Caynn, something black and cold had settled in the pit of his stomach, something that cramped sharply when he remembered who, exactly, was living in the Palace once again.
Half of him wanted nothing to do with the city, nothing to do with the Rogue, nothing to do with the crappy Court politics that Jon was dancing in up to his neck while the insane princess giggled to herself on the side.
Yeah, George wanted nothing to do with that.
But Thom insisted, repeatedly, on tying himself up in knots in the middle of it all, and if there was one thing that George knew, it was that Alanna would never forgive him if he sat idly by and watched her twin self destruct in front of him.
Thom’s smiling shadow sent shivers down George’s spine, even when he locked himself in his rooms at the Rogue and turned the world swimming sideways with more ale than he could remember ordering.
By now, even with rumors that the Lioness is on her way back from the Roof of the World, George trusted no one in the Palace. When he wanted eyes inside, he went himself, slipping between shadows and behind columns until he had the most unobstructed view of the Great Hall he could manage with safe, solid stone behind him.
“Dangerous games we’re playing these days.” The smooth, velvety voice slides under the ruckus of the Court in full swing nonchalantly, and later on George will try over and over again to figure out how the Sorcerer Duke managed to get as close to him as this.
“Are we?” George kept his tone light, face smooth and calm. Close up, there was definitely something off about Roger, something that starts the low burn of terror in his gut.
Roger grins, leaning against the wall with a white-toothed grin that George remembers Jon flashing at him, at Alanna, and there’s a wave of sick nausea that comes with it.
“Where’s Thom?” George asked, having not seen the Lord of Trebond in the Hall yet.
“Concerned, mmmm?” Roger mused, before turning to look George dead in the eye. “He’s under the weather; has a fever.”
Roger paused.
“You might even say, he’s burning up from the inside. Nasty little bug.”
George remembers Thom, laughing hysterically, hot to the touch and manic with an all-consuming hopelessness.
Roger grins congenially, even though the thought that Thom’s sickness was a natural one had long left George’s mind.
Roger was up to something. There is something drastically wrong with the Sorcerer Duke of Conte.
“What, don’t like what you see?” Roger purrs, and it sends George recoiling. Cover or no, things were escalating quickly. George’s Sight, when he turned away from George, flickered.
Rust red fire.
Blood red fire.
George stared at Roger, and the slide of something evil behind his eyes sent George backing away, unwilling to turn his back on the insane sorcerer.
Something bad was brewing in Corus, George thought, throwing a nondescript cloak over his Court regalia and accepting his mount from Stefan Groomsman. He paused at the gate into the City; it was time to bring the Lioness home.
Something wicked this way comes.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 560
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
Summary: George tries to keep an eye on the Palace while Alanna’s adventuring, but the more he learns, the more horrified he becomes.
With Alanna gone, George felt pulled in many directions.
In the long months since Port Caynn, something black and cold had settled in the pit of his stomach, something that cramped sharply when he remembered who, exactly, was living in the Palace once again.
Half of him wanted nothing to do with the city, nothing to do with the Rogue, nothing to do with the crappy Court politics that Jon was dancing in up to his neck while the insane princess giggled to herself on the side.
Yeah, George wanted nothing to do with that.
But Thom insisted, repeatedly, on tying himself up in knots in the middle of it all, and if there was one thing that George knew, it was that Alanna would never forgive him if he sat idly by and watched her twin self destruct in front of him.
Thom’s smiling shadow sent shivers down George’s spine, even when he locked himself in his rooms at the Rogue and turned the world swimming sideways with more ale than he could remember ordering.
By now, even with rumors that the Lioness is on her way back from the Roof of the World, George trusted no one in the Palace. When he wanted eyes inside, he went himself, slipping between shadows and behind columns until he had the most unobstructed view of the Great Hall he could manage with safe, solid stone behind him.
“Dangerous games we’re playing these days.” The smooth, velvety voice slides under the ruckus of the Court in full swing nonchalantly, and later on George will try over and over again to figure out how the Sorcerer Duke managed to get as close to him as this.
“Are we?” George kept his tone light, face smooth and calm. Close up, there was definitely something off about Roger, something that starts the low burn of terror in his gut.
Roger grins, leaning against the wall with a white-toothed grin that George remembers Jon flashing at him, at Alanna, and there’s a wave of sick nausea that comes with it.
“Where’s Thom?” George asked, having not seen the Lord of Trebond in the Hall yet.
“Concerned, mmmm?” Roger mused, before turning to look George dead in the eye. “He’s under the weather; has a fever.”
Roger paused.
“You might even say, he’s burning up from the inside. Nasty little bug.”
George remembers Thom, laughing hysterically, hot to the touch and manic with an all-consuming hopelessness.
Roger grins congenially, even though the thought that Thom’s sickness was a natural one had long left George’s mind.
Roger was up to something. There is something drastically wrong with the Sorcerer Duke of Conte.
“What, don’t like what you see?” Roger purrs, and it sends George recoiling. Cover or no, things were escalating quickly. George’s Sight, when he turned away from George, flickered.
Rust red fire.
Blood red fire.
George stared at Roger, and the slide of something evil behind his eyes sent George backing away, unwilling to turn his back on the insane sorcerer.
Something bad was brewing in Corus, George thought, throwing a nondescript cloak over his Court regalia and accepting his mount from Stefan Groomsman. He paused at the gate into the City; it was time to bring the Lioness home.
Something wicked this way comes.