He laughs, for it cannot be helped; whose captive is he, if not the woman who stands so resolutely before him, holding his life in her hands, if she would only take it? Oh, yes, it was her lord - her grunting guard, her brooding knight who would sooner be Done Here? - who had captured him, and they must answer, the both of them, to a man higher still. There is a king, that much is obvious; yet it is to the advisor of this erstwhile king that she must defer? Such tangled webs the customs of court demand. How much simpler all would be if justice were served by the blade, as it was always meant to be.
He rolls his eyes, made to face, once again, the futility of striking her like a flint, hoping she will catch an unwise spark. She is devoted to her honor, to cold nobility. Perhaps she is a relation of the Starks. "A fine bitch you must make in your master's kennels," he concedes with all the charm he figures a lord of his own caliber ought to muster, dipping his head as if in sincere recognition. The smirk at his lips is still curdled.
But is that her brow etched in thought, her grim lips pressed in reluctant appreciation for what he has said? Do her gray eyes not meet his own in something like negotiation?
Her question rings with a note of curiosity which is not churlish, which is not accusatory and readily dismissing. He tilts his head, paying back the thought the question is owed, weighing what he might indeed have done if he had captured a man such as himself, a captive to display or to punish or to entertain as he pleased. There is much to consider, and he filters none of it for propriety's sake.
"That depends, my lady. Were I you, a fair and able woman, who had captured me, a fair and able man, why, I might have thrown me down and demanded that we flaunt wars and gods all and made passionate love among the sweeping flowers of your lovely moors. I have no doubt that I would have consented most enthusiastically." A rakish smile to punctuate this opportunity lost before he continues, finding his stride in fantasy.
"Were I a knight capturing another knight, I would have killed him outright for his unending impudence, or else I would have invited him to my table to lighten the dour spirits of the men whose company I am made to suffer. Then, once he had been properly fed, I would challenge him to the combat he is owed, to determine his worth for myself. If he won back his freedom justly, he would be welcome to it, of course. And should he prove an inept fool, well, no one would need ever endure his japes again."
Coming at last to the question nestled within the other, he makes his answer one which bites, giving it a flash of teeth. "I had hoped to find warriors of spirit still in the world, and not only fishermen who know not what to do with the handsome specimens they catch."
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sforzinda
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Date: 2021-10-11 03:57 am (UTC)He rolls his eyes, made to face, once again, the futility of striking her like a flint, hoping she will catch an unwise spark. She is devoted to her honor, to cold nobility. Perhaps she is a relation of the Starks. "A fine bitch you must make in your master's kennels," he concedes with all the charm he figures a lord of his own caliber ought to muster, dipping his head as if in sincere recognition. The smirk at his lips is still curdled.
But is that her brow etched in thought, her grim lips pressed in reluctant appreciation for what he has said? Do her gray eyes not meet his own in something like negotiation?
Her question rings with a note of curiosity which is not churlish, which is not accusatory and readily dismissing. He tilts his head, paying back the thought the question is owed, weighing what he might indeed have done if he had captured a man such as himself, a captive to display or to punish or to entertain as he pleased. There is much to consider, and he filters none of it for propriety's sake.
"That depends, my lady. Were I you, a fair and able woman, who had captured me, a fair and able man, why, I might have thrown me down and demanded that we flaunt wars and gods all and made passionate love among the sweeping flowers of your lovely moors. I have no doubt that I would have consented most enthusiastically." A rakish smile to punctuate this opportunity lost before he continues, finding his stride in fantasy.
"Were I a knight capturing another knight, I would have killed him outright for his unending impudence, or else I would have invited him to my table to lighten the dour spirits of the men whose company I am made to suffer. Then, once he had been properly fed, I would challenge him to the combat he is owed, to determine his worth for myself. If he won back his freedom justly, he would be welcome to it, of course. And should he prove an inept fool, well, no one would need ever endure his japes again."
Coming at last to the question nestled within the other, he makes his answer one which bites, giving it a flash of teeth. "I had hoped to find warriors of spirit still in the world, and not only fishermen who know not what to do with the handsome specimens they catch."