Post by Seek on Apr 24, 2013 18:53:09 GMT 10
Title: Parley II
Rating: PG
Word Count: 589 words
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 1C
Summary: Assassin’s Creed AU. George and Roger talk.
Warnings: None.
-
“I never figured you for a Master Assassin,” the Conte Duke said, sapphire eyes intent as he bit into an apple. George watched him from the other end of the table.
“Never figured you for a Templar Grandmaster either,” he said mildly. “Except when you were meanin’ to kill Prince Jonathan.”
Roger snorted. “Oh, please. My young cousin has too much ambition. Even you can see that. Give him a bit of power and he’ll go utterly mad.”
“An’ you don’t think you’re speakin’ of yourself?”
“Hardly,” Roger said. “What Tortall needs is order. Stability. Just look at what they called my uncle—the Peacemaker. Most of them shake their heads at him behind their back and think back to the glory of Jasson’s days. There will be war in Tortall’s future, Cooper. The only question is what we are going to do about it.”
“An’ you think I can help you?”
Roger smiled. “Of course,” he said. “Our interests are aligned. I don’t need your trust, Cooper. I was thinking of something more on the lines of…a truce. You, want to find the man who killed my uncle and made it look like an accident. I want him punished.”
George watched him, through the grey haze of his Sight. Still the Conte Duke burned bright gold, rather than Templar red. Why? There was no telling. He didn’t for a second believe that ambition didn’t lurk within the heart of Duke Roger of Conte, behind that pretty smile.
“An’ young Alan?”
Roger smiled. “Well,” he said. “I think it would be in our best interests if young Alan…remained safely with me for now. Corus is a dangerous place, Master Cooper. Wouldn’t you agree?”
George tensed, feeling the straps of his hidden blade tight against his forearm. He could do this. Just one flick, and he could ram his hidden blade through Roger’s throat in an eyeblink, before the Duke could even do anything to stop him. Roger knew it too; he grinned toothily around the apple.
“Won’t you have some food?” he said mildly, gesturing to the stacked dinner table. “I’ve gone to the trouble of calling for a meal, and I assure you it is a rather great pain to poison a guest when one wishes him to perform a task.”
“Alan’s life got you this meetin’,” George said, ignoring Roger. “It got you this truce. The lad doesn’t buy you more than that. Cut him free.”
Roger smiled. “I don’t think so,” he said. Sapphire blue eyes watched George as he leaned back in his chair, secure and utterly confident. “Perhaps you haven’t been following. Allow me to explain. I asked you a question. How much was Squire Alan’s life worth to you? You decided it was worth…this pleasant meeting. Now, I’m asking you: how much is Squire Alan’s continued well-being and good health worth to you?”
There was a blizzard of words in George’s mind, and none of them were ones that he’d normally have mentioned aloud in front of Alanna. He said none of them, not out of politeness. The Duke had his balls in a vice, but as far as George was concerned, it was better to pretend that wasn’t the case. Never let them know how badly you were hit.
“Let the lad go,” George said, “And you’ll have your deal.”
Roger said, “Why don’t we discuss this over…dinner?”
George almost ground his teeth together. “Fine,” he said.
For a moment—a single moment—the Duke burned a bright scarlet in his Sight.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 589 words
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 1C
Summary: Assassin’s Creed AU. George and Roger talk.
Warnings: None.
-
“I never figured you for a Master Assassin,” the Conte Duke said, sapphire eyes intent as he bit into an apple. George watched him from the other end of the table.
“Never figured you for a Templar Grandmaster either,” he said mildly. “Except when you were meanin’ to kill Prince Jonathan.”
Roger snorted. “Oh, please. My young cousin has too much ambition. Even you can see that. Give him a bit of power and he’ll go utterly mad.”
“An’ you don’t think you’re speakin’ of yourself?”
“Hardly,” Roger said. “What Tortall needs is order. Stability. Just look at what they called my uncle—the Peacemaker. Most of them shake their heads at him behind their back and think back to the glory of Jasson’s days. There will be war in Tortall’s future, Cooper. The only question is what we are going to do about it.”
“An’ you think I can help you?”
Roger smiled. “Of course,” he said. “Our interests are aligned. I don’t need your trust, Cooper. I was thinking of something more on the lines of…a truce. You, want to find the man who killed my uncle and made it look like an accident. I want him punished.”
George watched him, through the grey haze of his Sight. Still the Conte Duke burned bright gold, rather than Templar red. Why? There was no telling. He didn’t for a second believe that ambition didn’t lurk within the heart of Duke Roger of Conte, behind that pretty smile.
“An’ young Alan?”
Roger smiled. “Well,” he said. “I think it would be in our best interests if young Alan…remained safely with me for now. Corus is a dangerous place, Master Cooper. Wouldn’t you agree?”
George tensed, feeling the straps of his hidden blade tight against his forearm. He could do this. Just one flick, and he could ram his hidden blade through Roger’s throat in an eyeblink, before the Duke could even do anything to stop him. Roger knew it too; he grinned toothily around the apple.
“Won’t you have some food?” he said mildly, gesturing to the stacked dinner table. “I’ve gone to the trouble of calling for a meal, and I assure you it is a rather great pain to poison a guest when one wishes him to perform a task.”
“Alan’s life got you this meetin’,” George said, ignoring Roger. “It got you this truce. The lad doesn’t buy you more than that. Cut him free.”
Roger smiled. “I don’t think so,” he said. Sapphire blue eyes watched George as he leaned back in his chair, secure and utterly confident. “Perhaps you haven’t been following. Allow me to explain. I asked you a question. How much was Squire Alan’s life worth to you? You decided it was worth…this pleasant meeting. Now, I’m asking you: how much is Squire Alan’s continued well-being and good health worth to you?”
There was a blizzard of words in George’s mind, and none of them were ones that he’d normally have mentioned aloud in front of Alanna. He said none of them, not out of politeness. The Duke had his balls in a vice, but as far as George was concerned, it was better to pretend that wasn’t the case. Never let them know how badly you were hit.
“Let the lad go,” George said, “And you’ll have your deal.”
Roger said, “Why don’t we discuss this over…dinner?”
George almost ground his teeth together. “Fine,” he said.
For a moment—a single moment—the Duke burned a bright scarlet in his Sight.