Hello darlings and Happy Wednesday! Are you up for some flash fiction? If you'd like to go back and read past chapters, please click here and scroll down to Myths, Secrets and Love. If you remember what happened in the last chapter, then, onwards!
*I have to admit a tweaked the prompt a tiny bit. Prompt (in bold letters) was originally "Can things get any worse?" I changed it to "could things get any worse." I hope am forgiven O:-)
*I have to admit a tweaked the prompt a tiny bit. Prompt (in bold letters) was originally "Can things get any worse?" I changed it to "could things get any worse." I hope am forgiven O:-)
Myths, Secrets and Love 8
Rodric trudged through
the path in sullen silence. Arjä walked at his side clearly at ease. The woman
was a constant source of irritation to him. She was, as Fergus would say, disgustingly
pleasant. She was the sort of person he and his mate would poke fun at and yet,
secretly admire. Rodric clenched his teeth. That was what grated him. He respected
the wench.
From the moment she’d boarded the ship, she’d taken command of the situation. The men, asses as they all were, tried to intimidate her, but the unicorn princess took dirt from no one. When Gus tried to grab her ass, she’d delivered such a fine kick to his balls Rodric couldn’t keep his laughter pent up. Neither could the rest of the men once they realized that the old sailor would live.
Rodric glanced at the
girl out of the corner of his eyes. She was sun burnt. The skin on her nose and
forehead was peeling. Her hair was windswept and frizzy, the ribbon she’d used to
tie it back being of little use as wild tendrils escaped here and there,
constantly getting into her eyes. Her clothes – Rodric bit back a grin- Her
mother had made her pack a trunk of pretty dresses but she’d found that
trousers and stained yellow shirts were best to move around a ship. Three
stinking days of travel and she’d become one of them. She wasn’t a prissy lady
waiting to be served on hand and foot. Oh
no. Arjä had taken it into her head that she would learn all she could and
she’d eased herself into the role of apprentice sailor. She surprised him
constantly and whether he wanted to or not he found himself watching over her.
He was starting to care for the petite blonde like an older brother cared for a
sister. Rodric cursed under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Arjä asked.
“Nothing,” he snarled
in reply. And to think they still had three more stops before they arrived to their
destination. Could things get any worse?
Darn Fergus. He couldn’t go and get himself kidnapped by normal pirates, of
course not. Then again, it was better that he hadn’t. Traditional pirates would
have probably killed him and tossed him to the sharks since day one. Rodric
snorted. At least, he’d get the pleasure of killing the difficult redhead.
Reflexively, Rodric
touched his finger to his lips. Rum and Chocolate. He sighed. Why did he ever have to get involved with such a
complicated man? Fergus had been nothing but trouble from the moment they’d met.
If he didn’t go out looking for it, then trouble found him. Like that day,
after their kiss. Things could have been different if the town hadn’t been
attacked and the rascal hadn’t decided that he was up for a good fight. Their
kiss could have developed into something more, something—Rodric shivered.
Perhaps, it was best it hadn’t. They were men. They were friends. They were
bloody pirates and thieves. That moment in time had been nothing more than a
drunken pass. Fergus had had too much rum and he had always been a natural
explorer. All men had wondered what it was like to kiss another. Now, he knew
and Fergus knew and they both agreed that women lips were better. He just
needed a reminder of the taste of a woman’s heavenly body and he’d forget all
about Fergus’s sweet mouth. Rodric glanced at Arjä as she stooped down to smell
a flower from the garden maze they were walking through. He shook his head. No,
definitely not. She was beautiful but she no longer stirred his loins in that
way. What he needed was to get out of this land and on to the next. There were
women in Port Chase. He’d been there before and he knew quite well that there
were plenty of buxom wenches for hire. One touch of their soft flesh, one shove
into their warm holes and –
“You think too much.”
“What?”
Arjä pulled a loose
strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at him.
“You think too much. I’m
not sure you even realize that you do it so often. You give orders and move
about the boat like a confident Captain, but a lot of the time you’re just
staring into space, frowning. Your bottom lip curls downward and a wrinkle
appears right between your eyes. It kind of looks like you’re smelling rotten
fish.”
Rodric’s mouth fell
open for an instant before he recovered and snapped it close.
She laughed. “But you’re
lost in some thought or another.” Arjä shrugged. “I think you worry too much. Why
don’t you just let things progress naturally? Humans have such a short life
span, why waste it worrying? Just because you liked something else before doesn’t
mean you can’t like something else now. Maybe,” she paused, chewing on her
bottom lip as if deciding whether or not to say her next words. Rodric cocked
an eyebrow, spurring her on. “Maybe,” she whispered, “maybe, you always liked
men but you let yourself be swept away by tradition.”
“Maybe you should keep
your bloody thoughts to yourself,” Rodric bit out the words, snapping his jaw
shut so he wouldn’t scream at the unicorn princess to mind her own fucking
business. Like men since forever? Him?
“Where are those
ingrate fairies?”
“Oh, right here.” Arjä
looked at her shoulder. “I thought you knew that I was, um, translating for her.
Rodric Belavue, allow me to introduce Lady Parisa of the Vilafée”
To be continued…
Now, to read some awesome flash fiction from the rest of the Wednesday Brief authors!
And don't forget that we now have a webpage http://wedbriefsfic.com/ So if you're undecided about what to read next, you can have a short preview of the ongoing stories there.
Yay - I'm caught up. Love the story. Now Rodric has fairies to deal with.
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