IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on October 6, 2013 at 03:22:20 AM by t r i s t a n
 “Outside?” Tristan repeated, his green eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as he shared a grin with his Grandfather. They both glanced sideways at Arthur at exactly the same moment, and the king found it difficult to keep a straight face as he quirked an eyebrow at the pair of them. Tristan burst out laughing. Morgana, who had left her chair behind her, leaned against the back of Arthur’s throne, her own black gaze fixed pointedly on Mallos. She did not fail to notice the appearance, and prompt disappearance of the packet of cigarettes, even if Arthur pretended to. She shared a look with Sperantia, before allowing her attention to stray back to the guests as they milled around, some seeking out dance partners, and others sticking closely to the food tables. “Of course,” she purred after a while, “the advantage of having numerous male relations is that I’m unlikely to find myself without a dance partner for too long.” Mordred rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but his sister’s focus was fixed firmly on Mallos, “you first,” she grinned, “show me how it’s done in Spain.” Arthur followed his father-in-law’s line of sight to the approaching courtiers with something of a resigned sigh, wondering vaguely what new problem they had thought up since the last time he had spoken with them. It had only been a few hours, and as far as he knew, Shaman had (quite unusually) not suffered any disasters since then. They were probably displeased with the price of wool or something. It was this line of thought which caused the king to chuckle at Mallos’ comment, and he was too amused (and had enjoyed enough wine) to be too concerned by Tristan’s confession a second later. The prince leaned in and whispered conspiratorially to his Grandfather, “you could,” he hissed, grinning, “I already tied their shoelaces together. Joshua’s too. I think they might have expected though.” “Your Highness,” a girl’s voice issued from the floor below the dais, and the king and prince turned their heads towards her. She was pretty, Arthur noted, with a side-ways glance at his son, a small frown creasing between his eyebrows. Her hair was long and blonde, falling in ringlets around her rounded face and she blushed charmingly beneath the attentions of the royal family that she had just called upon herself. “I wondered if you’d like to dance,” she managed, a little breathlessly. Tristan glanced in amusement at Mallos, “I’ll dance with Megan,” he said, “you dance with Aunt Ana, and then I’ll meet you outside and you can show me what this not-a-robot-dragon is, and why it couldn’t come into the hall.” The prince pushed back his chair and climbed to his feet, moving down the dais steps in order to offer the girl his arm. They disappeared into the dancing crowd. Morgana grabbed hold of Mallos’ hand, smiling slyly. “Alistair!” Tristan enthused as he and Megan danced past his newest friend. They did not go far before the steps demanded that they turn around and head back the other way, closing the distance between them again. Craning his neck as he moved by, the prince peered into Alistair’s goblet, “you don’t want anything stronger?” he teased, before the next set of steps demanded his full attention. Minutes later, he was back at his friend’s side, “it is a birthday party after all.” Megan captured his hands again as they and three other couples moved around in a small circle, as three others formed around them, like rotating wheels. “I’m sure we could find you a dance partner,” he teased gently, taking his place back in the set, “or you can tag along when Grandfather gives me my birthday present.”  |
Replies:
- be humble, for you are made of earth - By Alethea October 6, 2013 at 09:14:59 AM
- sun of the waking morning - By m o r d r e d October 7, 2013 at 01:48:36 AM
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