Post by Alliecat on Oct 11, 2010 14:43:12 GMT 10
Title: Invitation
Rating: PG-13
Legnth: 954
Category: Tortall
Summary: Wyldon is invited to Tortall's finest club. Chat crack!
Pairing: Wyldon/Weiryn and Roger/Owen (and mentions of a foursome)
A/N: Written for Alix
:::
“Dear, the messenger arrived yesterday,” Vivenne said, and handed Wyldon of Cavall a letter. “It’s from Corus.”
“Thank you, love,” he murmured, retreating to his office. Opening the letter, he winced as the paper sliced his finger.
To Lord Wyldon of Cavall,
I congratulate you on your exclusive invitation to Tortall’s finest and most intimate gathering, The Bed. The Bed consists of skilled and focused Tortallan men, though Thayet of Conté is always welcome, who simply love to have a good time with like-minded individuals. We encourage you to come to our next meeting (dates, times, and locations for the year’s meetings are enclosed). Please bring this letter to the meeting, as it will serve as your admission ticket. You may invite a friend of your choosing.
Once again, I congratulate you on your new membership!
Yours Truly,
Weiryn
Founder
“The Bed?” Wyldon murmured as he skimmed the letter once more, “Never heard of it. It’s an odd name for a club.”
“What’s that, dear?” Vivenne asked through the open door.
Wyldon carefully stowed the letter away. “Nothing, I was just debating whether to teach the pages a new style of jousting.”
Vivenne came forward and kissed her husband on the forehead. “You work too hard. Will you come to bed?”
Wyldon stood and stepped from behind the desk. Cupping his wife’s cheek in his hand, he said, “If you insist, my dear.”
:::
Two weeks later, Wyldon arrived in Corus with his squire. When Owen was unpacking his knight-master’s bags, he discovered a letter. “The Bed?” Owen whispered, “I wonder what that is.” He replaced the letter in the side pocket of Wyldon’s chest and began to polish armor.
That night, Wyldon stumbled across his invitation once more. I suppose there’s no harm in going, he decided. I’ll bring Jesslaw so I can always turn it into a lesson if something is wrong.
:::
“Jesslaw!” Wyldon barked two mornings later. “We’re jousting this morning,” he said, glaring at his squire as if challenging him to complain, “But we must to hurry, because there is a meeting at three o’clock that we are attending and you must be well dressed.”
Owen nodded. “Your equipment is ready, sir.”
“Excellent. I will meet you on the field in ten minutes.”
:::
“I better not be expected to serve at this,” Owen muttered, “Whatever this is anyway. He won’t tell me anything.” Jousting was always painful to some extent, though today it had seemed as if Lord Wyldon was particularly lance-happy.
“Jesslaw!” Owen finished buttoning his clothing, checked himself in the mirror, and ran into Wyldon’s study.
“Are you ready?” Wylon growled, and Owen nodded. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”
:::
Wyldon knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. “Why are we here, sir?” Owen asked.
Wyldon didn’t answer, and soon the door was opened. “Invitation?” a strange man, complete with horns, asked. Wyldon, refusing to look at his squire, handed him the letter. “Welcome,” the man said. “I am Weiryn, the initator of The Bed. You must be Lord Cavall, but who is your guest?”
Wyldon nudged Owen, who was staring open-mouthed at Weiryn. “Uh,” Owen stuttered, “I’m Owen of Jesslaw, squire to Lord Wyldon.”
Weiryn shook both their hands, and gestured for them to enter. “Some of our esteemed members include Sergeant Domitan of Masbolle and Duke Roger of Conté,” he said, pointing to both men in kind. “I am sure others will arrive later. It is still early.”
“Why do you call it, The Bed?” Owen asked.
“Well,” Roger said with a smirk, “We certainly seem to act as if it’s one. Do you have what it takes to be here?”
“I, erm, suppose that,” Owen gulped. “I thought you died.”
“Zombie,” Roger replied, raising his glass. “Thank Mithros I was smart enough to put the proper spells in place beforehand.” He drained his glass. “Care to step inside?” he asked, pointing to a connecting door.
Owen looked at his knight-master, who gazed coolly back, before nodding and following Roger inside.
“So I hear that you breed horses, milord,” Dom said.
Wyldon nodded. “You remind me.” Turning to Weiryn he asked, “Could I borrow one of your bows someday? I hear they are excellent.”
Weiryn cocked his head. “Do you have anything to offer in return?”
“My squire is available most nights. You may borrow him in return. He seems to be satisfying Duke Roger’s needs,” Wyldon said, acknowledging the various noises that were coming through the wall.
Weiryn scratched his chin. “To be truthful, I would rather have you at my beck and call. Shall we step inside?” he asked, and pointed to another adjacent room. Wyldon opened the door and strode inside. Behind them, Dom made a noise between a groan and a cough.
Weiryn grinned. “Oh, I’ll be back for you, sergeant,” Weiryn said, and slammed the door.
:::
“That was quite a lesson, sir,” Owen commented as he and his knight-master returned to their rooms. “The first hour was wonderful, but I really got to learn something when you and Weiryn joined–“
Wyldon interrupted him, “That’s enough, Jesslaw. I thought I had taught you to be quiet for once.”
A heavy set of footsteps alerted the pair to a man behind them. “Lord Wyldon, Squire Owen, I just wanted to let you know that our next meeting is being moved to the Chamber of the Ordeal. I’ve heard that the experience is quite vivid there.” He bowed, and retreated back down the hallway.
“But that means I can’t go,” Owen moaned. “I can’t go in there until my Ordeal!”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t go,” Wyldon responded. “You can find your own fun.”
Rating: PG-13
Legnth: 954
Category: Tortall
Summary: Wyldon is invited to Tortall's finest club. Chat crack!
Pairing: Wyldon/Weiryn and Roger/Owen (and mentions of a foursome)
A/N: Written for Alix
:::
“Dear, the messenger arrived yesterday,” Vivenne said, and handed Wyldon of Cavall a letter. “It’s from Corus.”
“Thank you, love,” he murmured, retreating to his office. Opening the letter, he winced as the paper sliced his finger.
To Lord Wyldon of Cavall,
I congratulate you on your exclusive invitation to Tortall’s finest and most intimate gathering, The Bed. The Bed consists of skilled and focused Tortallan men, though Thayet of Conté is always welcome, who simply love to have a good time with like-minded individuals. We encourage you to come to our next meeting (dates, times, and locations for the year’s meetings are enclosed). Please bring this letter to the meeting, as it will serve as your admission ticket. You may invite a friend of your choosing.
Once again, I congratulate you on your new membership!
Yours Truly,
Weiryn
Founder
“The Bed?” Wyldon murmured as he skimmed the letter once more, “Never heard of it. It’s an odd name for a club.”
“What’s that, dear?” Vivenne asked through the open door.
Wyldon carefully stowed the letter away. “Nothing, I was just debating whether to teach the pages a new style of jousting.”
Vivenne came forward and kissed her husband on the forehead. “You work too hard. Will you come to bed?”
Wyldon stood and stepped from behind the desk. Cupping his wife’s cheek in his hand, he said, “If you insist, my dear.”
:::
Two weeks later, Wyldon arrived in Corus with his squire. When Owen was unpacking his knight-master’s bags, he discovered a letter. “The Bed?” Owen whispered, “I wonder what that is.” He replaced the letter in the side pocket of Wyldon’s chest and began to polish armor.
That night, Wyldon stumbled across his invitation once more. I suppose there’s no harm in going, he decided. I’ll bring Jesslaw so I can always turn it into a lesson if something is wrong.
:::
“Jesslaw!” Wyldon barked two mornings later. “We’re jousting this morning,” he said, glaring at his squire as if challenging him to complain, “But we must to hurry, because there is a meeting at three o’clock that we are attending and you must be well dressed.”
Owen nodded. “Your equipment is ready, sir.”
“Excellent. I will meet you on the field in ten minutes.”
:::
“I better not be expected to serve at this,” Owen muttered, “Whatever this is anyway. He won’t tell me anything.” Jousting was always painful to some extent, though today it had seemed as if Lord Wyldon was particularly lance-happy.
“Jesslaw!” Owen finished buttoning his clothing, checked himself in the mirror, and ran into Wyldon’s study.
“Are you ready?” Wylon growled, and Owen nodded. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”
:::
Wyldon knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. “Why are we here, sir?” Owen asked.
Wyldon didn’t answer, and soon the door was opened. “Invitation?” a strange man, complete with horns, asked. Wyldon, refusing to look at his squire, handed him the letter. “Welcome,” the man said. “I am Weiryn, the initator of The Bed. You must be Lord Cavall, but who is your guest?”
Wyldon nudged Owen, who was staring open-mouthed at Weiryn. “Uh,” Owen stuttered, “I’m Owen of Jesslaw, squire to Lord Wyldon.”
Weiryn shook both their hands, and gestured for them to enter. “Some of our esteemed members include Sergeant Domitan of Masbolle and Duke Roger of Conté,” he said, pointing to both men in kind. “I am sure others will arrive later. It is still early.”
“Why do you call it, The Bed?” Owen asked.
“Well,” Roger said with a smirk, “We certainly seem to act as if it’s one. Do you have what it takes to be here?”
“I, erm, suppose that,” Owen gulped. “I thought you died.”
“Zombie,” Roger replied, raising his glass. “Thank Mithros I was smart enough to put the proper spells in place beforehand.” He drained his glass. “Care to step inside?” he asked, pointing to a connecting door.
Owen looked at his knight-master, who gazed coolly back, before nodding and following Roger inside.
“So I hear that you breed horses, milord,” Dom said.
Wyldon nodded. “You remind me.” Turning to Weiryn he asked, “Could I borrow one of your bows someday? I hear they are excellent.”
Weiryn cocked his head. “Do you have anything to offer in return?”
“My squire is available most nights. You may borrow him in return. He seems to be satisfying Duke Roger’s needs,” Wyldon said, acknowledging the various noises that were coming through the wall.
Weiryn scratched his chin. “To be truthful, I would rather have you at my beck and call. Shall we step inside?” he asked, and pointed to another adjacent room. Wyldon opened the door and strode inside. Behind them, Dom made a noise between a groan and a cough.
Weiryn grinned. “Oh, I’ll be back for you, sergeant,” Weiryn said, and slammed the door.
:::
“That was quite a lesson, sir,” Owen commented as he and his knight-master returned to their rooms. “The first hour was wonderful, but I really got to learn something when you and Weiryn joined–“
Wyldon interrupted him, “That’s enough, Jesslaw. I thought I had taught you to be quiet for once.”
A heavy set of footsteps alerted the pair to a man behind them. “Lord Wyldon, Squire Owen, I just wanted to let you know that our next meeting is being moved to the Chamber of the Ordeal. I’ve heard that the experience is quite vivid there.” He bowed, and retreated back down the hallway.
“But that means I can’t go,” Owen moaned. “I can’t go in there until my Ordeal!”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t go,” Wyldon responded. “You can find your own fun.”