Post by wordy on Jan 24, 2012 11:15:07 GMT 10
Title: It explains the desire I have to howl your name at the moon
Rating: G
Prompt: #41 Love
Summary: At Dunlath.
A/N: Title from Jane King’s poem How Am I.
Her guests called it wolf winter. Ridiculous, she had always thought, since Dunlath was home to wolves all the year round. But the courtiers did like their dramatics.
“If they bother you so, then why put up with them every year?” Douglass asked her. The hearth crackled loudly, giving her a moment to think of an appropriate reply; though his hair was greying and he complained of aching bones, her knight-protector’s wit remained as sharp as the blade that he insisted on wearing. Some days, she managed to outsmart him, but as much as his clever words could irk her, an odd, affectionate sort of pride always seemed to win out in her.
“Perhaps you should be asking why they put up with me,” she shot back, smiling at the amused expression that won her.
Douglass shook his head and settled back in his chair, the firelight reflected in his eyes. “You could be kinder, you know. Jonathan insists on such visits.”
“I wish he wouldn’t.” She regretted immediately how childlike that had sounded, but it was the truth. Dunlath was more than just a valuable asset to the crown: it was her home, and she had grown to like the solitude that such distance a border fief had granted her.
Douglass smiled kindly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I wish a great many things.”
Maura smiled wryly back at him, though she couldn’t quite disregard the tug deep in her chest that his words had roused. The night wore on, a cold wind and the half-hearted beginnings of a snowfall beating at the windows, until the fire in the hearth died down low.
The bare trees were a stark picture amongst the blanket of snow, and amongst it all Lady Farra of Genlith looked as sublime as the Goddess herself, with her dark hair and green velvet coat. Maura would never let such a blasphemous thought pass her lips, yet it was true all the same.
“Do you hunt?” Maura asked her. She could hear the baying of wolves in the distance, already working at scaring away what few forest creatures remained for the winter. But it was the polite thing to say, and her guests had already shown restlessness at being holed up in the castle.
Farra smiled. “Quite badly,” she admitted. “Though I couldn’t refuse my gracious hostess, if you were of a mind to do so.”
Maura answered with a smile of her own. Almost despite herself, she was growing to like the Genlith beauty. “Ice skating?” she suggested instead.
“Mithros, no!” She laughed. “You seem quite determined to see me fail horribly at some sport or another.”
They rode on in comfortable silence for a moment, Maura casting subtle glances at her companion from the corner of her eye. The weather had taken pity on them today, though snow clouds hung heavily overhead, threatening to break at any moment. The fresh, biting air relaxed Maura, though, and being in such merry company was highly preferable to whatever amusement her other guests had found for themselves back at the castle. She sighed, happily.
“I hope you don’t think me rude,” said Farra, breaking the silence, “but you seem rather pleased out here on your own.”
Maura raised an eyebrow. “And why, exactly, should I think you rude for saying so?”
The other woman shrugged, idly fingering her reins with a gloved hand. “Because that is what my mother-in-law said to me, before I came here. She seemed to think it odd that a noble lady of your age was unmarried and so...in control.”
It was nothing new to hear of such things being said of her, and Maura felt a bristle of irritation that a stranger would speak of her in such a way, but she could not think ill of Farra for repeating it; her manner had been entirely polite and congenial up until this point, and even now she did not appear to hold much regard for her mother-in-law’s opinion. Maura realised that she had been frowning, and smoothed her expression into a smile. “I am pleased,” she said, because it was true. “And I’m afraid I have no intention of making a political marriage.”
“How fantastic,” said Farra, looking at her warmly, with not a little touch of embarrassment. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for repeating such gossip. I admire the freedom you have here at Dunlath; it was wrong of me to bring up the topic.”
Maura ignored the apology. “But you married for love, didn’t you? Surely you have some freedom of your own, as you had the freedom to choose your own husband?”
“Oh yes,” she said with a laugh. “Though sometimes I feel too attached to my husband’s family; they’re quite a handful, I’m sure you can imagine. It’s rare that I find any peace for myself.”
“You love him, though,” Maura persisted, “your husband?”
“I do. His family can be trying, but I couldn’t give him up for anything. I have no regrets regarding our marriage.” A fond smile touched the woman’s lips. Maura felt her heart skip, all too mindful of the regrets she herself harboured.
“Do you think you will ever marry?” Farra asked as their horses slowed to a halt in the snow.
“I hardly think so.”
Farra looked at her with sympathy. “Haven’t found the right man?”
Maura laughed, her breath fogging the air in front of her. She could see soft snowflakes settling in the other woman’s dark hair, then melting before her eyes. She nudged her horse forward with her knees. “We’d best return to the castle,” she said, “before we get soaked through.”
Rating: G
Prompt: #41 Love
Summary: At Dunlath.
A/N: Title from Jane King’s poem How Am I.
Her guests called it wolf winter. Ridiculous, she had always thought, since Dunlath was home to wolves all the year round. But the courtiers did like their dramatics.
“If they bother you so, then why put up with them every year?” Douglass asked her. The hearth crackled loudly, giving her a moment to think of an appropriate reply; though his hair was greying and he complained of aching bones, her knight-protector’s wit remained as sharp as the blade that he insisted on wearing. Some days, she managed to outsmart him, but as much as his clever words could irk her, an odd, affectionate sort of pride always seemed to win out in her.
“Perhaps you should be asking why they put up with me,” she shot back, smiling at the amused expression that won her.
Douglass shook his head and settled back in his chair, the firelight reflected in his eyes. “You could be kinder, you know. Jonathan insists on such visits.”
“I wish he wouldn’t.” She regretted immediately how childlike that had sounded, but it was the truth. Dunlath was more than just a valuable asset to the crown: it was her home, and she had grown to like the solitude that such distance a border fief had granted her.
Douglass smiled kindly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I wish a great many things.”
Maura smiled wryly back at him, though she couldn’t quite disregard the tug deep in her chest that his words had roused. The night wore on, a cold wind and the half-hearted beginnings of a snowfall beating at the windows, until the fire in the hearth died down low.
The bare trees were a stark picture amongst the blanket of snow, and amongst it all Lady Farra of Genlith looked as sublime as the Goddess herself, with her dark hair and green velvet coat. Maura would never let such a blasphemous thought pass her lips, yet it was true all the same.
“Do you hunt?” Maura asked her. She could hear the baying of wolves in the distance, already working at scaring away what few forest creatures remained for the winter. But it was the polite thing to say, and her guests had already shown restlessness at being holed up in the castle.
Farra smiled. “Quite badly,” she admitted. “Though I couldn’t refuse my gracious hostess, if you were of a mind to do so.”
Maura answered with a smile of her own. Almost despite herself, she was growing to like the Genlith beauty. “Ice skating?” she suggested instead.
“Mithros, no!” She laughed. “You seem quite determined to see me fail horribly at some sport or another.”
They rode on in comfortable silence for a moment, Maura casting subtle glances at her companion from the corner of her eye. The weather had taken pity on them today, though snow clouds hung heavily overhead, threatening to break at any moment. The fresh, biting air relaxed Maura, though, and being in such merry company was highly preferable to whatever amusement her other guests had found for themselves back at the castle. She sighed, happily.
“I hope you don’t think me rude,” said Farra, breaking the silence, “but you seem rather pleased out here on your own.”
Maura raised an eyebrow. “And why, exactly, should I think you rude for saying so?”
The other woman shrugged, idly fingering her reins with a gloved hand. “Because that is what my mother-in-law said to me, before I came here. She seemed to think it odd that a noble lady of your age was unmarried and so...in control.”
It was nothing new to hear of such things being said of her, and Maura felt a bristle of irritation that a stranger would speak of her in such a way, but she could not think ill of Farra for repeating it; her manner had been entirely polite and congenial up until this point, and even now she did not appear to hold much regard for her mother-in-law’s opinion. Maura realised that she had been frowning, and smoothed her expression into a smile. “I am pleased,” she said, because it was true. “And I’m afraid I have no intention of making a political marriage.”
“How fantastic,” said Farra, looking at her warmly, with not a little touch of embarrassment. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for repeating such gossip. I admire the freedom you have here at Dunlath; it was wrong of me to bring up the topic.”
Maura ignored the apology. “But you married for love, didn’t you? Surely you have some freedom of your own, as you had the freedom to choose your own husband?”
“Oh yes,” she said with a laugh. “Though sometimes I feel too attached to my husband’s family; they’re quite a handful, I’m sure you can imagine. It’s rare that I find any peace for myself.”
“You love him, though,” Maura persisted, “your husband?”
“I do. His family can be trying, but I couldn’t give him up for anything. I have no regrets regarding our marriage.” A fond smile touched the woman’s lips. Maura felt her heart skip, all too mindful of the regrets she herself harboured.
“Do you think you will ever marry?” Farra asked as their horses slowed to a halt in the snow.
“I hardly think so.”
Farra looked at her with sympathy. “Haven’t found the right man?”
Maura laughed, her breath fogging the air in front of her. She could see soft snowflakes settling in the other woman’s dark hair, then melting before her eyes. She nudged her horse forward with her knees. “We’d best return to the castle,” she said, “before we get soaked through.”
And Douglass/Maura, of course. 