Post by Rachy on Apr 21, 2010 19:31:43 GMT 10
Title: The View From the Rich
Rating: PG
Length: 1200 words.
Summary: Delia sees George, and ponders.
Author's Notes: A parallel to this eventual monstrosity , with a George as Robin Hood kind of thing.
Her arm glides smoothly through his, and he walks her to her seat, where she sits, spreading her skirts softly and giving him a sweet smile. Sir Ralon of Malven did her every wish, as one of those favoured by Alexander of Tirragen, Lord Provost of Corus, and it had definite benefits when she was not forced to be within his company.
“My Lord, what do we have us today?” She smiles, viciously, across to the Provost’s chair.
“Many things, Lady Delia. You will not be disappointed by your joining us. We’ve nabbed our biggest prize today. Bring him in.” She looks expectantly towards the double door, and almost misses the sickened look pass between Lord Myles and Duke Jonathan. The Duke sees her glance, and she smiles, wicked sweetness, at him. The doors to the castle open slowly, and the men in the colours of her home fief bring in a peasant, spitting, swearing, and cursing in the name of the Trickster. She almost wishes she hasn’t been in Conte with the King, missing the excitement in Corus now that he has returned and gone renegade, but some things with Roger are far more exciting then what Alex can give. The guards hurl the bound man at her feet, and she rearranges her skirt, daintily turning her nose up.
“Well, well, Cooper. Aren’t we still the Prince of the People?” Alex smiles maliciously, and she hears a faint gasp behind her. She turns and a mask of disgust sweeps across her face, remembering how easily she forgot this little lady. Alanna of Olau looks just as disgusted back at her, and she spots an unfamiliar look in the redhead’s eyes as her gaze swaps between her and that of the man on the floor. She returns Alanna’s look with a sardonic smirk, and a feeling of satisfaction – her once betrothed is not spitting curses on the floor. Alanna moves behind her adoptive father, and Delia returns her gaze to her shoes. George Cooper, former Lord of Pirate’s Swoop smirks up at her, and places a kiss on the sole of her shoes.
“Tha’s the type of devotion you like, isn’t it milady?” She sneers down and swings her foot, and he dodges his head out of her way. Alex makes a motion to the guards, and they lift Cooper up before dumping him again on the floor, and she sees several of the lords wince at the crack his head makes against the cold stone. She hasn’t seen him since she left for Conte, since he left to fight in Roald’s war, and it pleases her to notice how little he has changed. His dark hair is longer, his brown eyes still warm, his nose looks broken, but healed well, and his mouth is as wicked as it was on the scant times she saw him before he left. He appears more built, more muscled and broader, more deadly, and she likes the change. She notices too, how his eyes flicker quickly towards Myles, to Alanna, and she sees even more how little has changed.
“Would you like to hear your charges, Swoop?”
“I’d prefer to hear yours, Tirragen. I’m fairly sure it’s a longer list and worth a lot more in the eyes of the men here who respect the law, scant few of them there are.”
“And it is you bound before us, not I, George. Pity.”
“And yet you call me Swoop. My tendency to swoop free of your charges, or your tendency to swoop free of your duties.”
Alex raises a hand and backslaps him, he falls to the ground, spitting blood. She grins, delighted, and takes a bitter look around the room. Duke Jonathan stands next to Lady Alanna, who rests her hands on her father’s chair, Myles’s hand gripping her own. She can’t hear the Duke’s soft murmur, nor read his lips, except to see that Alanna calms, but grips the chair tighter. She watches as George finds his feet again, standing and bowing mockingly in her, and then Alex’s direction.
“Servants of a traitorous King.” He bows, and spits at their feet, before wrenching his hands out of his bonds.
“As lovely as it is to see what I’ve been missing out on while I’ve been away, I find I prefer the old Court far more, and I suspect you prefer it when I’m not an audience to protest your despicable natures instead of swallowing them like sewer muck. I take my leave.” Alex holds his sword to his throat, and she can see Claw behind him.
“Unfortunately Cooper, while we don’t have quite a place for you or your kind in this court, we wouldn’t want you to miss the celebrations.” Alex smiles, his voice chilled.
“Pity I plan on doing exactly that.” He spins and kicks the knife out of Ralon’s hand, grabbing it as it twirled and holding it hovering at Alex’s throat. Alex sheathes his sword, and holds his hands up, eyes flicking over George’s shoulders, and as quick as the guard’s behind him, reaches out and grabs her as a shield. His knife dances across her throat, drawing the thinnest line in blood, and he drags her backwards, knife held across her throat. He nods to the lords as he passes them, shocked and startled expressions clear on their faces, smiles quickly at Myles and Jonathan, winks at Alanna until his back is fast against the door, and he shoves against it, pulling her close.
“How would you say you missed me, while I was gone, Lady Delia?”
“I’d say not at all.”She chokes, and she feels his chuckle, before he pecks the side of her face.
“Pity.”
The door opens and she stumbles, and there is then no one behind her. She turns and sees he is already at the stables, sprinting towards the town, and ignores the sudden rush of longing sweeping through her. She can see how he wins hearts of the people, how they follow him and not Alex. She can see that, and watches that, for that, when she rides through the forest and has her saddlebags and neck removed of valuables, his smirk etched on his face and that of his men, when on the rare occasion he slips into Court and threatens Alex, and Ralon. She wonders why he does this, to steal from the rich and give to the poor, when being rich has so much more privilege then the life he leads now, so much more to offer, and yet she suspects that everyone he cares about in the Court already dances to his tune, without any encouragement. She wonders as she slides the knife into the gasps of one of his men, looking to meet his eyes, distant, cold and infuriated across the courtyard. She wonders why he saves people who are nothing, why he saves those who have nothing, and yet views the rich scathingly when he was one of them before he changed his side. She wonders why he won’t save those who have everything, not realising that she has made herself into a person who will not change, no matter what obstacle she faces.
Rating: PG
Length: 1200 words.
Summary: Delia sees George, and ponders.
Author's Notes: A parallel to this eventual monstrosity , with a George as Robin Hood kind of thing.
Her arm glides smoothly through his, and he walks her to her seat, where she sits, spreading her skirts softly and giving him a sweet smile. Sir Ralon of Malven did her every wish, as one of those favoured by Alexander of Tirragen, Lord Provost of Corus, and it had definite benefits when she was not forced to be within his company.
“My Lord, what do we have us today?” She smiles, viciously, across to the Provost’s chair.
“Many things, Lady Delia. You will not be disappointed by your joining us. We’ve nabbed our biggest prize today. Bring him in.” She looks expectantly towards the double door, and almost misses the sickened look pass between Lord Myles and Duke Jonathan. The Duke sees her glance, and she smiles, wicked sweetness, at him. The doors to the castle open slowly, and the men in the colours of her home fief bring in a peasant, spitting, swearing, and cursing in the name of the Trickster. She almost wishes she hasn’t been in Conte with the King, missing the excitement in Corus now that he has returned and gone renegade, but some things with Roger are far more exciting then what Alex can give. The guards hurl the bound man at her feet, and she rearranges her skirt, daintily turning her nose up.
“Well, well, Cooper. Aren’t we still the Prince of the People?” Alex smiles maliciously, and she hears a faint gasp behind her. She turns and a mask of disgust sweeps across her face, remembering how easily she forgot this little lady. Alanna of Olau looks just as disgusted back at her, and she spots an unfamiliar look in the redhead’s eyes as her gaze swaps between her and that of the man on the floor. She returns Alanna’s look with a sardonic smirk, and a feeling of satisfaction – her once betrothed is not spitting curses on the floor. Alanna moves behind her adoptive father, and Delia returns her gaze to her shoes. George Cooper, former Lord of Pirate’s Swoop smirks up at her, and places a kiss on the sole of her shoes.
“Tha’s the type of devotion you like, isn’t it milady?” She sneers down and swings her foot, and he dodges his head out of her way. Alex makes a motion to the guards, and they lift Cooper up before dumping him again on the floor, and she sees several of the lords wince at the crack his head makes against the cold stone. She hasn’t seen him since she left for Conte, since he left to fight in Roald’s war, and it pleases her to notice how little he has changed. His dark hair is longer, his brown eyes still warm, his nose looks broken, but healed well, and his mouth is as wicked as it was on the scant times she saw him before he left. He appears more built, more muscled and broader, more deadly, and she likes the change. She notices too, how his eyes flicker quickly towards Myles, to Alanna, and she sees even more how little has changed.
“Would you like to hear your charges, Swoop?”
“I’d prefer to hear yours, Tirragen. I’m fairly sure it’s a longer list and worth a lot more in the eyes of the men here who respect the law, scant few of them there are.”
“And it is you bound before us, not I, George. Pity.”
“And yet you call me Swoop. My tendency to swoop free of your charges, or your tendency to swoop free of your duties.”
Alex raises a hand and backslaps him, he falls to the ground, spitting blood. She grins, delighted, and takes a bitter look around the room. Duke Jonathan stands next to Lady Alanna, who rests her hands on her father’s chair, Myles’s hand gripping her own. She can’t hear the Duke’s soft murmur, nor read his lips, except to see that Alanna calms, but grips the chair tighter. She watches as George finds his feet again, standing and bowing mockingly in her, and then Alex’s direction.
“Servants of a traitorous King.” He bows, and spits at their feet, before wrenching his hands out of his bonds.
“As lovely as it is to see what I’ve been missing out on while I’ve been away, I find I prefer the old Court far more, and I suspect you prefer it when I’m not an audience to protest your despicable natures instead of swallowing them like sewer muck. I take my leave.” Alex holds his sword to his throat, and she can see Claw behind him.
“Unfortunately Cooper, while we don’t have quite a place for you or your kind in this court, we wouldn’t want you to miss the celebrations.” Alex smiles, his voice chilled.
“Pity I plan on doing exactly that.” He spins and kicks the knife out of Ralon’s hand, grabbing it as it twirled and holding it hovering at Alex’s throat. Alex sheathes his sword, and holds his hands up, eyes flicking over George’s shoulders, and as quick as the guard’s behind him, reaches out and grabs her as a shield. His knife dances across her throat, drawing the thinnest line in blood, and he drags her backwards, knife held across her throat. He nods to the lords as he passes them, shocked and startled expressions clear on their faces, smiles quickly at Myles and Jonathan, winks at Alanna until his back is fast against the door, and he shoves against it, pulling her close.
“How would you say you missed me, while I was gone, Lady Delia?”
“I’d say not at all.”She chokes, and she feels his chuckle, before he pecks the side of her face.
“Pity.”
The door opens and she stumbles, and there is then no one behind her. She turns and sees he is already at the stables, sprinting towards the town, and ignores the sudden rush of longing sweeping through her. She can see how he wins hearts of the people, how they follow him and not Alex. She can see that, and watches that, for that, when she rides through the forest and has her saddlebags and neck removed of valuables, his smirk etched on his face and that of his men, when on the rare occasion he slips into Court and threatens Alex, and Ralon. She wonders why he does this, to steal from the rich and give to the poor, when being rich has so much more privilege then the life he leads now, so much more to offer, and yet she suspects that everyone he cares about in the Court already dances to his tune, without any encouragement. She wonders as she slides the knife into the gasps of one of his men, looking to meet his eyes, distant, cold and infuriated across the courtyard. She wonders why he saves people who are nothing, why he saves those who have nothing, and yet views the rich scathingly when he was one of them before he changed his side. She wonders why he won’t save those who have everything, not realising that she has made herself into a person who will not change, no matter what obstacle she faces.