MorMor one shots

dancing in the dark

Negotiations hadn't gone well today.

"We could certainly make some sort of agreement, King James. I would be willing to sign a peace treaty if you agreed to marry my beautiful daughter, Princess Molly."

Not a chance in hell. "We'd have to make an arrangement for a further visit involving your daughter, your highness. For the time being, let us mark out our territories, shall we? Set out some ground rules?"

King Mystrade had brought what appeared to be a small army, although Jim would only allow three of them into their meeting. Jim, however, only needed one man. Sebastian Moran. Commander of his knights for two years now. Can be found behind his king at all times, hand on sword hilt, poised and ready. He'd never lost a fight, but had had his fair share of injuries. He'd saved Jim's life- how many times now? What a loyal pet. He's been especially tense since the arrival of the other king, lingering especially close, insisting on having someone taste his king's food before he got to it. He'd be guarding his bed room, thank you very much. Stand up straight, you useless excuse for for a knight. How are you supposed to protect your king with that posture?

How sweet.

Sebastian had heard offers of marriage from countless other kingdoms. Why he turns all of them down is baffling, beyond comprehension. A good alliance based on a marriage would do the king a favour, muses the faithful knight. Not that he minds. Sometimes the looks those young, beautiful princesses give his king stirs a beast within the knight that makes him inexplicably uncomfortable. He'd happily slice those fair maidens down if it meant they'd stop dancing with Jim, stop giggling and playing with their hair, blushing when he flirts with them. Jim's very good at flirting, making people feel special. The damned charmer.

What a bastard.

There's a feast tonight to honour King Mystrade and his host, a loud, boisterous affair, with the other king next to his king at the table of honour, smirking and discussing things with ease. Jim doesn't eat a lot; he never does. Doesn't drink a lot either, to keep his wits about him with the unknown crowd about. Threats could come from anywhere. Implications could come through in the subtlest of sly comments. The lords and knights lucky enough to be invited are dancing to the music with the ladies, the serving women, laughing, jesting.

His king stays distanced from it all, observing with a learned eye. The other king is tense. He senses that Jim will not agree to the marriage with his daughter, and that hasn't gone down well with him. Their discussions got heated this afternoon, many a disagreement about trade, future meetings, knights, wards. The kings put on their facade of getting along just fine, smiling and toasting, silently eyeing each other up, calculating the next move of the other.

The feast was cleared away late in the night, and his king bid goodnight to his guests with a trained politeness, shaking hands where necessary, sending servants to show drunken guests back to their rooms.

When they're gone, the king lets out a long groan, kicking the nearest bench. "People! How painfully dull!"

The knight says nothing, remaining stiff and alert. The musician is still plucking away at his harp, yet to be given the order to stop. Apart from that, they're alone, Jim and his Tiger.

"Have you eaten tonight, Sebby?"

"Not yet, Sir," Sebastian dutifully responds. He hates to admit it, but all these horribly endearing nicknames his employer has for him certainly sparks something within him, something that unsettled him, in a way he doesn't mind, strangely enough.

"I'll arrange for something to be brought for you. Can't have a hungry Tiger now, can we?"

"That's not necessary, Sir. Thank you. I shouldn't while on duty."