 Thyri strode up the castle’s drive, swinging her (Mallos’) hips. Her eyes, black instead of green, focused in on the young guard who stood vigil just outside the entrance of the main doors. Smiling she approached him, and had to stop herself from laughing when he spotted her, gaped a little, and then stood up straighter. His shoulders no longer hunched, he didn’t slouch back against the wall, and even his spear was held to attention.
“Hello gorgeous,” she purred when she was close enough to reach out and touch him. Thyri tugged at the boy’s tunic, straightening the fabric, her mouth forming a little pout, “you couldn’t tell me where the King is could you?” The boy just stared at her, his jaw dropping open and hanging slack, giving him a distinctly gormless expression. Bless his heart. “Come on, lover,” she pressed, catching sight of her tanned hands against the boy’s chest, “I haven’t got all day.” To his credit, the guard managed to recover himself enough to answer her question,
“He’s in his rooms, Seba'iqer,” he croaked, “not to be disturbed.” Thyri smirked, withdrawing her hands at last and glancing up at the rest of the castle.
“Is he now?” she chuckled.
The young guard had very kindly provided her with directions (even if he had looked rather confused about why Mallos would need them) and Thyri followed the plush red carpets along the corridors. The castle was richly decorated, grander than anything she had known at home, and in the heart of it, in the corridors that hosted the royal rooms, it was even grander still. Thyri kept stopping whenever she saw something beautiful or interesting, and had to force herself to keep moving so she didn’t linger too long investigating them. The guard had told her that the King’s rooms would be behind the third door on her left. Thyri counted them as she went past; before she came to a stop outside the one she had been looking for. She didn’t bother knocking and used Mallos’ magic to pop the lock as she turned the handle. It clicked open and she crossed the threshold into the luxurious apartments beyond. The curtains had been drawn so that the sunlight had to push its way through red velvet, and candles had been lit on the surrounding tables. There were shelves full of books and scrolls, and maps had been mounted on the walls; comfortable chairs were positioned around the great marble fireplace at the room’s centre. There was no sign of the king.
Pushing her hands into Mallos’ pockets, Thyri sauntered through the empty room and explored the doors which led off it. The first she tried took her into a washroom, and the second into some kind of study which played to host to even more books and maps. She was surprised that a so-called warrior King would have so many things to read; reading was still a great mystery to her. Thyri opened the final door and strode into the king’s bed chamber. A woman’s voice squeaked in alarm, and she heard a male voice curse under its breath,
“Jesus, Mallos!” Arthur said, in a louder voice, throwing the blankets over his companion, jumping out of bed, and pulling on a dressing robe with impressive speed. “You’ve forgotten how to knock?” the king demanded, closing the space between them as he knotted the silk chord around his waist. Thyri just smiled.
“I’ll wait in the other room shall I?”
Thyri lounged on the klinai in the king’s sitting room staring into the empty grate. She turned and looked over her shoulder when Arthur entered the room, still buckling his belt in place over his tunic of royal blue. She moved her legs to make room for him beside her and sat up straight, fixing him with a searching gaze. He was both what she had expected, and not. She would not have called him a handsome man, and although he was well-built he was by no means tall. The eyes were right though, an impenetrably cold slate-grey which, combined with a rather noble nose and gently curving mouth painted a regal picture, despite the flaws.
“It’s urgent, I trust?” the King said with no obvious sign of embarrassment, as Thyri’s gaze lingered a little at the cross that hung around his neck. She found herself wishing she were in her own body, she could have tried to play him properly then, to find out what made him tick. She loved to try it with the quiet ones; to find out what could break through the rock wall. It was a game; the whole damn thing was a game. Thyri held his gaze and leaned towards him, “I didn’t know what else to do,” she confessed honestly and she smiled more when she saw him sigh.
“You were bored?” he asked shaking his head, “it might have escaped your notice, Mallos, but I wasn’t.” Thyri chuckled, edging a little closer to him before she reached out and rested a hand on his leg just above his knee. She looked down at it first before looking back up at him, and she thought she saw the royal eyes narrow just a little. Thyri moved her hand a little further, just to make sure. He raised an eyebrow,
“Mallos,” the king said patiently, raising an eyebrow, “you’re making me uncomfortable.” He hit it well, Thyri thought, ignoring his instruction so that Arthur was forced to lift her hand free himself. As he gripped her fingers she ran her thumb across his, she wanted to touch him, to feel him...but that was not how this body worked. It was her turn to sigh.
“Are you drunk?” the king asked, making her laugh,
“in a manner of speaking, perhaps,” Thyri responded, leaning back on the recliner and draping Mallos’ legs across the King’s lap, “do you want to guess again?”
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