Post by Rosie on Oct 15, 2011 5:07:04 GMT 10
Title: Misaligned
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,161
Prompt: Crooked Hearts (#53)
Summary: Gary is finding it difficult to cope, in the aftermath of Queen Lianne's death.
--
"Gary - Gary."
He was in the middle of a vast field. As he looked to his right and left, a huge line of men (and Alanna) on horseback streamed out as far as the eye could see. Jonathan was by his side - no, he, Gary was by Jonathan's side, steadfast as ever.
"We're going to get slaughtered," Raoul said grimly from Gary's other side. Gary squinted into the sun, able to see four outlines standing opposite.
"But there are only four of them!"
Jonathan cast Gary a frustrated look. "Four? Look again. And I don't know how many of them there are amongst us."
Gary obeyed and looked again, and now there were only four on their side - Jonathan, Gary, Raoul, and Alanna - and the row of endless soldiers stretched out in front of them.
"Gary."
Jonathan snorted derisively. "You could at least have come prepared for battle, Gary. Doesn't family mean anything to you?"
Gary opened his mouth to reply, and realised he was considerably lower than his cousin. In fact, rather than being astride a horse, he was astride a desk. Raoul gave him a hard shove, and Gary could feel the desk toppling, could feel himself falling through the air, could feel-
"Gary!"
He jolted awake, finding himself hunched over the desk rather than impaled beneath it. "I - what?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. A gentle hand touched his upper arm, and the scent of some sweet flower filled his nostrils. Cythera.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she said, when he straightened in his chair and looked up at her. "Well - I did, but only because you looked as though you were having a bad dream."
Gary wasn't entirely convinced he'd woken up just yet; sometimes Cythera was too good to be true. He surreptitiously pinched himself and - ouch - was definitely awake. "Thank you," he murmured, thinking how grateful he was, in the midst of all this wreckage, to find solace in somebody like Cythera.
"I brought you some food," Cythera said, indicating a tray of bread and cheese. "Your mother said I was to stand over you and watch you eat every bite."
He gave her a wary look. "Will you?"
"I'd rather sit," she replied with a smile. "If it's all the same to you."
It brought a half-smile to his own face, and Gary appreciated that more than he could say. Then, he ran through what she'd said in his head once more. "You saw my mother."
Cythera perched herself on the edge of Gary's desk - and Gary experienced a mild panic at the thought that she might have sat on one of his quills. "Yes. I took your father some books I thought might interest him, so your mother could go for a walk. We had quite a nice little chat."
Gary, who was not as stupid as Jonathan told him he looked, raised an eyebrow at her, all worries of inkstained dresses discarded. "My mother hasn't left my father's side since Duke Baird gave him mandatory bedrest, but you show up at the precise moment she fancies a walk?"
"Apparently so," Cythera agreed, her serene countenance showing nothing of the steel it must have taken to get his mother out of that room. "Now, I've come to feed you, even though you've scorned food for much of the past week."
Defeated (clearly she was not going to teach him how to manage his mother at this precise moment), Gary took the plate and began to eat one of the rolls - finding, to his surprise, that he was actually hungry. "How was Father?"
"He spoke to me of the late queen," Cythera informed him, her eyes shadowed. Cythera had warmed to his aunt's gentle nature, had even started becoming a favourite in Lianne's later days. "I think he's heartbroken, Gary."
Finished with the first roll, Gary rubbed his hand over his face. "I know. I don't know what to do. I've taken his workload off him, and it's practically killing me."
"He was running himself into the ground after she - after she died. Don't let me see the same thing happen to you. I couldn't bear it."
He looked up at the last, spoken so quietly he half-thought he might have misheard. "Well, we couldn't have that."
Cythera shook her head. Carefully, Gary pushed back his chair, moving to stand right in front of her. Her eyes widened, and he heard her breath hitch in the back of her throat - or was that his? Leaving her every chance to back away, he reached up to brush his fingers against her cheek.
"Thank you," he told her, thinking how lucky he was to have somebody like Cythera around. "I can't tell you what these last few weeks have meant."
She smiled at him, one of those equal parts sweetness and sadness smiles that went right to his heart. "It's easy when you - when you care, like I do."
He couldn't resist any longer, leaning forward to kiss her hungrily. He was tired, so tired of worrying what mischief King Roald was doing to himself, worrying about what mischief Roger was doing to the kingdom. All that mattered was now, and Cythera's hands, and - oh, sweet Mithros, she was sitting properly on the desk now. It would be so easy, but this was not the right time, and Cythera was not meant for illicit trysts in his father's office.
Gary pulled away from her, finding himself suddenly short of breath. Cythera's breathing was laboured also, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down.
"You should finish that other roll," Cythera said quietly, after a moment. She must have known what was on his mind, and yet she stayed anyway.
"You should go," he said abruptly, opening his eyes again.
"I will go," she replied, fixing the locks of hair he had mussed. "When you have finished your roll."
He returned to his chair, determinedly not looking at her. "Cythera, that was - I was-"
Cythera placed the plate in front of him once more.
"I think - I think we shouldn't see each other, until the kingdom calms down." Now he was calming down, he was mortified at his behaviour. He had always known that there were women you simply didn't use like that. "I obviously have no self-control."
"Perhaps your self-control might improve if you fed yourself properly," Cythera suggested. "If you want me to leave, you'll have to eat first. I promised your mother." She hesitated, and then added, "Gary, I was as much to blame as you were. Please don't punish yourself too much over it - remember your heart's in the right place."
Gary scoffed.
"Well, perhaps it is temporarily misaligned," she allowed, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "But it's near enough to satisfy me. Must I force-feed this to you?"
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,161
Prompt: Crooked Hearts (#53)
Summary: Gary is finding it difficult to cope, in the aftermath of Queen Lianne's death.
--
"Gary - Gary."
He was in the middle of a vast field. As he looked to his right and left, a huge line of men (and Alanna) on horseback streamed out as far as the eye could see. Jonathan was by his side - no, he, Gary was by Jonathan's side, steadfast as ever.
"We're going to get slaughtered," Raoul said grimly from Gary's other side. Gary squinted into the sun, able to see four outlines standing opposite.
"But there are only four of them!"
Jonathan cast Gary a frustrated look. "Four? Look again. And I don't know how many of them there are amongst us."
Gary obeyed and looked again, and now there were only four on their side - Jonathan, Gary, Raoul, and Alanna - and the row of endless soldiers stretched out in front of them.
"Gary."
Jonathan snorted derisively. "You could at least have come prepared for battle, Gary. Doesn't family mean anything to you?"
Gary opened his mouth to reply, and realised he was considerably lower than his cousin. In fact, rather than being astride a horse, he was astride a desk. Raoul gave him a hard shove, and Gary could feel the desk toppling, could feel himself falling through the air, could feel-
"Gary!"
He jolted awake, finding himself hunched over the desk rather than impaled beneath it. "I - what?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. A gentle hand touched his upper arm, and the scent of some sweet flower filled his nostrils. Cythera.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she said, when he straightened in his chair and looked up at her. "Well - I did, but only because you looked as though you were having a bad dream."
Gary wasn't entirely convinced he'd woken up just yet; sometimes Cythera was too good to be true. He surreptitiously pinched himself and - ouch - was definitely awake. "Thank you," he murmured, thinking how grateful he was, in the midst of all this wreckage, to find solace in somebody like Cythera.
"I brought you some food," Cythera said, indicating a tray of bread and cheese. "Your mother said I was to stand over you and watch you eat every bite."
He gave her a wary look. "Will you?"
"I'd rather sit," she replied with a smile. "If it's all the same to you."
It brought a half-smile to his own face, and Gary appreciated that more than he could say. Then, he ran through what she'd said in his head once more. "You saw my mother."
Cythera perched herself on the edge of Gary's desk - and Gary experienced a mild panic at the thought that she might have sat on one of his quills. "Yes. I took your father some books I thought might interest him, so your mother could go for a walk. We had quite a nice little chat."
Gary, who was not as stupid as Jonathan told him he looked, raised an eyebrow at her, all worries of inkstained dresses discarded. "My mother hasn't left my father's side since Duke Baird gave him mandatory bedrest, but you show up at the precise moment she fancies a walk?"
"Apparently so," Cythera agreed, her serene countenance showing nothing of the steel it must have taken to get his mother out of that room. "Now, I've come to feed you, even though you've scorned food for much of the past week."
Defeated (clearly she was not going to teach him how to manage his mother at this precise moment), Gary took the plate and began to eat one of the rolls - finding, to his surprise, that he was actually hungry. "How was Father?"
"He spoke to me of the late queen," Cythera informed him, her eyes shadowed. Cythera had warmed to his aunt's gentle nature, had even started becoming a favourite in Lianne's later days. "I think he's heartbroken, Gary."
Finished with the first roll, Gary rubbed his hand over his face. "I know. I don't know what to do. I've taken his workload off him, and it's practically killing me."
"He was running himself into the ground after she - after she died. Don't let me see the same thing happen to you. I couldn't bear it."
He looked up at the last, spoken so quietly he half-thought he might have misheard. "Well, we couldn't have that."
Cythera shook her head. Carefully, Gary pushed back his chair, moving to stand right in front of her. Her eyes widened, and he heard her breath hitch in the back of her throat - or was that his? Leaving her every chance to back away, he reached up to brush his fingers against her cheek.
"Thank you," he told her, thinking how lucky he was to have somebody like Cythera around. "I can't tell you what these last few weeks have meant."
She smiled at him, one of those equal parts sweetness and sadness smiles that went right to his heart. "It's easy when you - when you care, like I do."
He couldn't resist any longer, leaning forward to kiss her hungrily. He was tired, so tired of worrying what mischief King Roald was doing to himself, worrying about what mischief Roger was doing to the kingdom. All that mattered was now, and Cythera's hands, and - oh, sweet Mithros, she was sitting properly on the desk now. It would be so easy, but this was not the right time, and Cythera was not meant for illicit trysts in his father's office.
Gary pulled away from her, finding himself suddenly short of breath. Cythera's breathing was laboured also, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down.
"You should finish that other roll," Cythera said quietly, after a moment. She must have known what was on his mind, and yet she stayed anyway.
"You should go," he said abruptly, opening his eyes again.
"I will go," she replied, fixing the locks of hair he had mussed. "When you have finished your roll."
He returned to his chair, determinedly not looking at her. "Cythera, that was - I was-"
Cythera placed the plate in front of him once more.
"I think - I think we shouldn't see each other, until the kingdom calms down." Now he was calming down, he was mortified at his behaviour. He had always known that there were women you simply didn't use like that. "I obviously have no self-control."
"Perhaps your self-control might improve if you fed yourself properly," Cythera suggested. "If you want me to leave, you'll have to eat first. I promised your mother." She hesitated, and then added, "Gary, I was as much to blame as you were. Please don't punish yourself too much over it - remember your heart's in the right place."
Gary scoffed.
"Well, perhaps it is temporarily misaligned," she allowed, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "But it's near enough to satisfy me. Must I force-feed this to you?"
I'm so glad you like this, and I never would have finished it without having you to constantly badger about whether or not it was still on the right tracks 
Also this fic flows really really well - 1100 words felt like it went so quickly! 
