Post by Muse on Jun 1, 2013 21:47:14 GMT 10
Title: Expectations
Rating: PG
Word Count: 563
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: Court is odd, and not what she expected. Roger-is-king-legitimately AU.
Her first evening in Court is nothing like what Alanna had expected.
The root of the problem is, as always, the fact that her twin cannot be bothered to come out of his rooms and actually interact with the world for once.
Alanna holds her head up proudly; smoothes the violet silk of her new dress, and decides then that she will present herself to the Court, Thom or no Thom. It’s a move that will have her teachers back in Convent cringing and wincing, but Alanna never was one for tradition and they would have done well to get used to that before now, anyways.
Her training does her well, though, when she makes the last few steps to the dais and sinks low before the King in her deepest curtsey. He bids her rise, and she her brain stalls when she realizes how blue his eyes are. She bites her tongue—better to not say anything than to blurt something out in front of everyone—and eases herself out of the main throng of courtiers until she can lean against one stone wall.
“May I have this dance?” A voice beside her asks, and Alanna jumps. She gasps when she sees the same blue eyes that had startled her earlier, and she curtseys again, cursing Thom inside her head as her knees protest the deep bend.
“Your majesty,” she manages with a thick tongue. The laughter from the man beside her serves to confuse her more, and Alanna glances up curiously.
“I’m Jonathan,” he offers, and Alanna remembers, belatedly, of the rumors that the Prince strongly resembled the King. Behind them, on the dais, still, the young King Roger of Tortall still sat presiding over his court. As though he could sense her gaze, his eyes find hers, and Alanna looks away quickly, unnerved by the apparent attention.
“I beg pardon,” she begins, but Jonathan—Prince Jonathan—waves her protests away.
“I’m used to it,” he assures her. “It seems to be a common mistake.”
Alanna simply stares at the Prince, whose smile wavers briefly. She realizes that he is still offering her his hand.
“Goddess,” she blurts, before she can stop herself, and she claps a hand over her mouth. Beneath her palm, she can feel her cheeks flaming a hot red, and she promises herself that Thom will find several slimy, wriggly things in his bed tonight.
Prince Jonathan grins and takes her arm. “You look as though you could use a guide, here in the Court.” His comment goes over her head for a moment as Alanna tries not to trip over her own feet or—Lady forbid—step on the Prince’s.
“Is it that obvious?” she wonders, when the dance steps begin to feel more fluid and she doesn’t have to stare at the tops of her slippers.
Prince Jonathan studies her face for a long moment, and Alanna feels a flare of irritation send another flush across her cheeks at his intense scrutiny.
“You’re not what I expected,” is what he says.
Alanna glances around the room as it whirls past.
“You’re not what I expected either,” she retorts shortly, the words escaping before she can snap her mouth shut.
Now she’s done it.
Prince Jonathan simply sees her expression and breaks out into laughter again.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 563
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: Court is odd, and not what she expected. Roger-is-king-legitimately AU.
Her first evening in Court is nothing like what Alanna had expected.
The root of the problem is, as always, the fact that her twin cannot be bothered to come out of his rooms and actually interact with the world for once.
Alanna holds her head up proudly; smoothes the violet silk of her new dress, and decides then that she will present herself to the Court, Thom or no Thom. It’s a move that will have her teachers back in Convent cringing and wincing, but Alanna never was one for tradition and they would have done well to get used to that before now, anyways.
Her training does her well, though, when she makes the last few steps to the dais and sinks low before the King in her deepest curtsey. He bids her rise, and she her brain stalls when she realizes how blue his eyes are. She bites her tongue—better to not say anything than to blurt something out in front of everyone—and eases herself out of the main throng of courtiers until she can lean against one stone wall.
“May I have this dance?” A voice beside her asks, and Alanna jumps. She gasps when she sees the same blue eyes that had startled her earlier, and she curtseys again, cursing Thom inside her head as her knees protest the deep bend.
“Your majesty,” she manages with a thick tongue. The laughter from the man beside her serves to confuse her more, and Alanna glances up curiously.
“I’m Jonathan,” he offers, and Alanna remembers, belatedly, of the rumors that the Prince strongly resembled the King. Behind them, on the dais, still, the young King Roger of Tortall still sat presiding over his court. As though he could sense her gaze, his eyes find hers, and Alanna looks away quickly, unnerved by the apparent attention.
“I beg pardon,” she begins, but Jonathan—Prince Jonathan—waves her protests away.
“I’m used to it,” he assures her. “It seems to be a common mistake.”
Alanna simply stares at the Prince, whose smile wavers briefly. She realizes that he is still offering her his hand.
“Goddess,” she blurts, before she can stop herself, and she claps a hand over her mouth. Beneath her palm, she can feel her cheeks flaming a hot red, and she promises herself that Thom will find several slimy, wriggly things in his bed tonight.
Prince Jonathan grins and takes her arm. “You look as though you could use a guide, here in the Court.” His comment goes over her head for a moment as Alanna tries not to trip over her own feet or—Lady forbid—step on the Prince’s.
“Is it that obvious?” she wonders, when the dance steps begin to feel more fluid and she doesn’t have to stare at the tops of her slippers.
Prince Jonathan studies her face for a long moment, and Alanna feels a flare of irritation send another flush across her cheeks at his intense scrutiny.
“You’re not what I expected,” is what he says.
Alanna glances around the room as it whirls past.
“You’re not what I expected either,” she retorts shortly, the words escaping before she can snap her mouth shut.
Now she’s done it.
Prince Jonathan simply sees her expression and breaks out into laughter again.