Post by wordy on Dec 17, 2014 9:19:07 GMT 10
Title: Better the devil you know
Rating: PG
For: runyousillydetective
Prompt: 1. Rosto/Beka fic because I still like that idea
Summary: Midwinter at the Dancing Dove.
Notes: Because I will always still like the idea.
Also: flirting.
The Lower City got sentimental at Midwinter. While the lords and ladies spent their coin on fineness and frippery, the common folk shared hearty food and hand-made trinkets; there were sagging boughs of mistletoe and holly above every doorway that could afford it, and hard-boiled sweets thrown about for the little ones to scrabble over.
Though she’d been trying hard to stay away of late, Beka found herself at the Dove again, the merry atmosphere at odds with the filchers and cut-throats who were giving it life. But she was off-duty, twilsey in hand. She could turn a blind eye for one night and besides, these were Rosto’s people, and the new King of the Rogue kept them well in hand. Most of the time.
Speak of a devil and there he’ll be, Granny Fern used to say.
It had hardly been more than a thought, but there he was, pale hair shining almost gold under the lights, making his way towards her through the busy common room. “Beka,” he greeted her.
“Your Majesty,” she said, voice mocking.
“I could get used to you calling me that.” His smile was sharp, but it was his eyes that made her legs feel weak.
Beka took a drink to stop herself from saying something daft. It seemed to be getting harder—surely resisting his charms should be easier with time and practise? Yet almost every sweet word or look pulled her one step closer to giving in. One night, part of her coaxed, but she shook it off; if she allowed herself one night with Rosto, she didn’t think she’d have the strength to let go.
So instead she smiled, and said, “I couldn’t.”
His wounded expression was all for show. Some of the coves standing near them laughed and so did Beka, before turning and slipping through the warm press of bodies.
Rating: PG
For: runyousillydetective
Prompt: 1. Rosto/Beka fic because I still like that idea
Summary: Midwinter at the Dancing Dove.
Notes: Because I will always still like the idea.
Also: flirting.The Lower City got sentimental at Midwinter. While the lords and ladies spent their coin on fineness and frippery, the common folk shared hearty food and hand-made trinkets; there were sagging boughs of mistletoe and holly above every doorway that could afford it, and hard-boiled sweets thrown about for the little ones to scrabble over.
Though she’d been trying hard to stay away of late, Beka found herself at the Dove again, the merry atmosphere at odds with the filchers and cut-throats who were giving it life. But she was off-duty, twilsey in hand. She could turn a blind eye for one night and besides, these were Rosto’s people, and the new King of the Rogue kept them well in hand. Most of the time.
Speak of a devil and there he’ll be, Granny Fern used to say.
It had hardly been more than a thought, but there he was, pale hair shining almost gold under the lights, making his way towards her through the busy common room. “Beka,” he greeted her.
“Your Majesty,” she said, voice mocking.
“I could get used to you calling me that.” His smile was sharp, but it was his eyes that made her legs feel weak.
Beka took a drink to stop herself from saying something daft. It seemed to be getting harder—surely resisting his charms should be easier with time and practise? Yet almost every sweet word or look pulled her one step closer to giving in. One night, part of her coaxed, but she shook it off; if she allowed herself one night with Rosto, she didn’t think she’d have the strength to let go.
So instead she smiled, and said, “I couldn’t.”
His wounded expression was all for show. Some of the coves standing near them laughed and so did Beka, before turning and slipping through the warm press of bodies.
. Gotta love Beka/Rosto. I also love Granny Fern input!
