IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on January 8, 2014 at 05:57:04 AM by morgana
| Morgana had never expected him to agree. She had expected a disarming devil-may-care grin and a smooth apology as he declined. She had dared to hope that it might have been enough to get him to make a sweeping exaggerated bow and leave her to enjoy what remained of her nephew’s party. Instead, he seemed to be thinking. There was a glazed kind of expression in his eyes, as if he were thinking something through, with a degree of self reflection. It didn’t suit his smug face, she decided as she was forced to stay close to him as the dancers travelled around the room in hold. She could feel him breathing, and the beating of his heart which seemed to quicken just a little more than the exercise demanded. Morgana looked down at his fingers as he ran his thumb along the back of her hand. It sent a shiver through her; enough to make the hairs on the back of her arms stand up in protest. Narrowing her eyes, she looked at him again, a little curiously, and was just in time to see his dreamy countenance vanish. The pirate she knew returned in the blink of an eye, in all his annoying debonair finery.
Of all the reactions Morgana had anticipated, the one she got was utterly unexpected. First, she felt indignation, his words about royalty being untrustworthy being so ironic as to be amusing; it was even enough to make her lip curl in a half-laugh. If she were asked to choose between a pirate, and her royal brother, then she knew without doubt which she would trust most. Arthur was a man of his word, as far as circumstance allowed him, and he was a man of honour. She was not sure what Killian was a man of, beyond the sea and greed and arrogance. Morgana found it frustrating that it was so hard to see the person beneath all the swagger. There had to be one there, there always was. The hidden persona need not necessarily be better than the shell, but it had to have more depth. His eyes told her, with every glance, that there was more to him than there seemed. Indignation was followed by disappointment. Somewhere in her offer had been concealed a hope; she had offered him the chance to prove her wrong...even in a small way, and he had failed. The slight mocking term, the unlooked for endearment, all of it was what she would have expected from him. Of course, he only needed to say a few more words before her disappointed turned to shock, and then an anger, as he pushed the line more than a little too far. “Not if you were the last man on Shaman,” she hissed at him through clenched teeth, looking around her, and steering him rather forcefully towards the edge of the dancers, until she was finally able to break away from him. Morgana gave him a sharp push into the top left corner of the room, which apart from them was empty, and unwatched. “You presume too far, Sir” The Princess’ eyes bored into his, a burning anger written all over her face, as if he had just lit a fire somewhere within her, doubtless, not the one he might have wished. She threw him a dirty look; "think fast," she smirked at him before she turned and ran off through the crowd, shouting at the top of her lungs, “Guards!” her voice echoed off the walls, “guards!” the king stood to his feet, his chair scraping back over the wood with a screech and the music cut out, “pirates!”  |
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