“My sister is the only other person I ever knew with magic, and hers isn’t like mine. Anyway no one at home ever wanted to kiss me, or anything else.” Summer turned the cup around and around, staring at the subtle carving around the rim, and not looking at Mordred at all. She couldn’t stop her mind turning down those old, well-worn paths, expression falling into pensive lines. “Not after they realised I could see through their games.”
“I understand,” he said, fingers running over the worn wood of the table. “After my father was taken from me I traveled. I was only a child, naive at best. It took me some time to learn that there were more that thought like Uther than I had cared to believe. People that would exploit me and play games with who I was. The amount of times I’ve almost had my head removed from my shoulders.”
“They never knew it was magic,” she whispered. “I don’t talk about it much. Mine is so little it’s easy to hide, easy to make it look like I’m not using it, when I always am. I’ve only had to defend myself with it a few times, and nobody looks in the forest for the burned bones of bandits.” She shuddered hard with that memory, of dealing death with her magic while her mind was caught up in theirs. The cup rattled against the table.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you to know this. I didn’t mean you to have to carry this.” It always came to this, to the ache of being different spilling from her lips and driving people away. “I don’t want to be alone any more.”
“I haven’t had many,” she told him, “so it’s not much of a stretch. I don’t know, maybe it’s because we both have magic, but it was pretty spectacular from my end.” She turned the cup in her hands for a moment before drinking.
”Magic does heighten one’s senses” he agreed, leaning back in his chair. “Especially when it comes to all forms of intimacy, be it kissing or otherwise. It’s even more intoxicating when both parties possess magic” Mordred explained.
“My sister is the only other person I ever knew with magic, and hers isn’t like mine. Anyway no one at home ever wanted to kiss me, or anything else.” Summer turned the cup around and around, staring at the subtle carving around the rim, and not looking at Mordred at all. She couldn’t stop her mind turning down those old, well-worn paths, expression falling into pensive lines. “Not after they realised I could see through their games.”
She had to hold on to him when he finally released her from the kiss. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her. “Please sit down before I fall down,” she finally managed to say. “Otherwise you’ll just be holding me up when you kiss me like that again. My god.”
Mordred laughed softly, guiding her over to a seat and placing her in it. “You act like it was the best kiss you’ve ever received” he tells her, handing her the goblet before taking the seat across from her.
“I haven’t had many,” she told him, “so it’s not much of a stretch. I don’t know, maybe it’s because we both have magic, but it was pretty spectacular from my end.” She turned the cup in her hands for a moment before drinking.
Summer was glad he’d got his arms around her waist; he was so tall compared to her that otherwise she would have fallen over simply trying to reach his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sank her fingers into his curls, kissing back with all she had. A little moan slipped out.
He tightened his grip on her, pulling her closer as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. This time, unlike the last time he wasn’t afraid of hurting her, finally winning the argument with himself over whether or not he could truly trust her. Something told him he could, perhaps it was because they were kin and held magic, or something close to it and he couldn’t put his finger on it. A content sigh passed his lips as her fingers sank into his curls, pulling away for air.
She had to hold on to him when he finally released her from the kiss. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her. “Please sit down before I fall down,” she finally managed to say. “Otherwise you’ll just be holding me up when you kiss me like that again. My god.”
“Do you never want anything for yourself?” She sat up a little, wanting to see his face when he answered. Not that she wouldn’t know what he was feeling anyway, but seeing it made it more vivid.
Mordred looks up at her for a second, turning his gaze to anywhere but her after she asked her question. There was an answer to that question, a plain and simple one but then that would require explanations. He’d never gotten anything he’d wanted, his parents, a normal life, why start now. “To have a bed to sleep in and a warm meal.”
The simplicity of his desire, and the emotion coupled with it, took her breath away. One hand hovered over his cheek, fingertips just barely brushing the skin. “Oh, Mordred … ” Anguish for him laced her voice.
“Very much so.” Summer shivered slightly. She quite liked being hugged like this; someone’s strong arms at her back, keeping her safe. She didn’t know why. It was the same with her step-brother. Well, almost the same — she didn’t want to kiss Edward. She wanted to kiss Mordred again.
“I‘m glad,” he says, resting his head against her shoulder. “I live to please and serve.”
“Do you never want anything for yourself?” She sat up a little, wanting to see his face when he answered. Not that she wouldn’t know what he was feeling anyway, but seeing it made it more vivid.
She laughed a little. “I won’t break, Mordred. You can hold me harder than that.”
”Fine,” he mutters, laughing softly, proceeding to hold her tighter. “That better?”
“Very much so.” Summer shivered slightly. She quite liked being hugged like this; someone’s strong arms at her back, keeping her safe. She didn’t know why. It was the same with her step-brother. Well, almost the same — she didn’t want to kiss Edward. She wanted to kiss Mordred again.
She sat back down right beside him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hooking her chin over one and hiding her face in his curly dark hair. “Of course. Please don’t feel stupid, Sir Mordred.”
Mordred smiled, lacing his arms carefully around her waist. “Please, just call me Mordred, there is no need for the sir bit.”
She laughed a little. “I won’t break, Mordred. You can hold me harder than that.”
“What /this/?” she laughed. “/This/ is a week of whatever you’d like from me. Let’s have a little direction here, Sir Knight.” Summer took one of his hands, interlinking her fingers with his. “Otherwise,” she murmured, “I’ll give the direction, and you’ll obey.”
Mordred cocked a brow, looking over her for a moment. “You give directions and I obey?” he asks, mulling the words over for a few moments before he answered. “No, I don’t like that idea all too well,” he tells her. “There is a tourney coming up and your favour would be most appreciated.”
Letting go his hand with a slight sigh, Summer pulled her braid over her shoulder and untangled a ribbon from the end. She smoothed it over her hand before offering it to him. “If you tie this about your arm, I’m certain you will win, and my luck will surely ride with you.” Softly and quickly she kissed his cheek.
Quite purposefully, she slipped a little closer, flirting a little. “So, what kind of wife shall I be? Make sure you’re fed? Polish your armour, sharpen your sword? Shall I stay home and keep your house, or shall I ornament your arm and give you my favour for tournaments?”
The knight chuckled, his cheeks reddening slightly. “You can be whatever wife you so choose to be, I am not fussed. I clean my own armour and expect no one to do it for me,” he tells her with a small smile. “But you may do as you wish, I’ve never been good at this I should forewarn you.”
“What /this/?” she laughed. “/This/ is a week of whatever you’d like from me. Let’s have a little direction here, Sir Knight.” Summer took one of his hands, interlinking her fingers with his. “Otherwise,” she murmured, “I’ll give the direction, and you’ll obey.”
