Post by journeycat on Dec 1, 2010 14:40:07 GMT 10
Title: A Steep Price
Rating: PG-13
Card: 1
Bingo: Candles + Midwinter Kiss + Winter + Lady Knight + Music
Summary: Sometimes she thinks the cost of her shield far outweighs the benefits.
Length: 433 words
Warnings: Provost's Dog spoilers .
-----
A calloused hand went to the hilt of her sword as she cautiously pushed open her door, left ajar; she knew she wasn’t the one who left it like that. She squinted against the unexpected light, her shoulders so tense she was practically trembling. As her vision cleared she saw that her chambers were lit with many small candles, like some kind of eerie echo of romance. Mattes, she wondered briefly, and then dismissed the thought; he knew her well enough to know that sneaking into her rooms with candles was not the kind of romance she liked.
“Hello, Sabine.”
The voice crawled down her spine like a spider, soft and venomous all at once. Sabine flinched involuntarily, her hand pulling up on the hilt just enough for the blade to hiss against the scabbard. The door creaked behind her and she wheeled in time to see that dark, familiar figure slowly close it. The latch clicked, and he smiled.
“I was wondering when I’d get to see you alone,” Roger said conversationally. “It’s been awhile.”
“It hasn’t been long enough,” she snorted. She crossed her arms, trying to deflect and also trying to keep her hands off her sword; he was her king, after all, and beheading him would probably be in poor taste.
“What a welcome,” he said dryly. “Churlish as ever, I see. I suppose you and the barbarian bed-warmer of yours are good company, then.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What else? I came to visit my most loyal knight.”
“Get out.”
“That’s rude, Sabine. After all the trouble I went to—candles, a hearth fire and, if you listen, there’s even music playing. I asked the ensemble to play something romantic.”
“Classy. Sneaking out on your own wife’s birthday ball for another woman.”
“Jessamine doesn’t care. She doesn’t pay much mind to anyone except her son.”
“You mean your son.”
“I have my doubts.”
Roger reached out to her suddenly, his hands brushing her arms and sending unpleasant shivers throughout her body. His face, too hawkish for good looks with his hooked nose and penetrating green eyes, was intent on her face.
“It’s a cold winter’s night, Sabine,” he said softly, “and Jessamine has not come to my bed in a long time. All I ask for is a Midwinter kiss, for luck, for a long and prosperous reign.”
There was too much, too much: his mouth on hers, warm, persuasive, revolting; his roaming hands unable to stay still; his breath hot against her face.
The price I pay, she thought through gritted teeth, for lady knighthood.
Rating: PG-13
Card: 1
Bingo: Candles + Midwinter Kiss + Winter + Lady Knight + Music
Summary: Sometimes she thinks the cost of her shield far outweighs the benefits.
Length: 433 words
Warnings: Provost's Dog spoilers .
-----
A calloused hand went to the hilt of her sword as she cautiously pushed open her door, left ajar; she knew she wasn’t the one who left it like that. She squinted against the unexpected light, her shoulders so tense she was practically trembling. As her vision cleared she saw that her chambers were lit with many small candles, like some kind of eerie echo of romance. Mattes, she wondered briefly, and then dismissed the thought; he knew her well enough to know that sneaking into her rooms with candles was not the kind of romance she liked.
“Hello, Sabine.”
The voice crawled down her spine like a spider, soft and venomous all at once. Sabine flinched involuntarily, her hand pulling up on the hilt just enough for the blade to hiss against the scabbard. The door creaked behind her and she wheeled in time to see that dark, familiar figure slowly close it. The latch clicked, and he smiled.
“I was wondering when I’d get to see you alone,” Roger said conversationally. “It’s been awhile.”
“It hasn’t been long enough,” she snorted. She crossed her arms, trying to deflect and also trying to keep her hands off her sword; he was her king, after all, and beheading him would probably be in poor taste.
“What a welcome,” he said dryly. “Churlish as ever, I see. I suppose you and the barbarian bed-warmer of yours are good company, then.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What else? I came to visit my most loyal knight.”
“Get out.”
“That’s rude, Sabine. After all the trouble I went to—candles, a hearth fire and, if you listen, there’s even music playing. I asked the ensemble to play something romantic.”
“Classy. Sneaking out on your own wife’s birthday ball for another woman.”
“Jessamine doesn’t care. She doesn’t pay much mind to anyone except her son.”
“You mean your son.”
“I have my doubts.”
Roger reached out to her suddenly, his hands brushing her arms and sending unpleasant shivers throughout her body. His face, too hawkish for good looks with his hooked nose and penetrating green eyes, was intent on her face.
“It’s a cold winter’s night, Sabine,” he said softly, “and Jessamine has not come to my bed in a long time. All I ask for is a Midwinter kiss, for luck, for a long and prosperous reign.”
There was too much, too much: his mouth on hers, warm, persuasive, revolting; his roaming hands unable to stay still; his breath hot against her face.
The price I pay, she thought through gritted teeth, for lady knighthood.