Disclaimer: I do not own the Alanna series.
Little Winning Smile
The nights were long and the days were short, a party still burned through the palace celebrating the first day summer. Shouts of drunken fools who thought they stood a chance with a pretty young thing made slurring insults at each other in the darker section of the impressive courtyard. Women batted their sickening sweet eyelashes at those who were high in the King's graces hoping that one clumsy old man would sign away his soul to make them his. How they all seemed to be enjoying the loud and social event that kick started the social season. All it seemed but one.
Roger stood in a long black cloak that was trimmed with a dark forest green, a man of great taste he was, one might even say royal tastes. His almost black hair was tied with a clean endless black ribbon and his light blue eyes had roamed the courtyard with distaste until they landed upon a walking red-headed thorn. From his chambers Roger could see the young boy who always seemed to be one step ahead of him, a boy was undoing his plans. A BOY!
His eyes stayed trained on the young thing that so easily befriended and charmed everyone around him, seeming so innocent and yet he had stood up and healed to his breaking point and then fought battles like he was born a knight.
Roger clenched his fist and his jaw. Little red head with his startling purple eyes and tiny body and infuriating cat!
"DAMN IT!" He yelled as he hit the stone wall with the side of his fist. He took a deep breath and calmed down. He had to do something with that child. But he wasn't a child anymore was he? No, no, had to be at least sixteen. A young man... in a tiny body. Alan of Trebond.
The night he had appeared to Alan while he was on guard during the battle he didn't see a boy, a child, or even a young man. He saw a threat, an equal, that could ruin everything he had set out to do. Roger wanted to destroy him in everyway possible, demean him, make inhuman.
Roger glanced towards his large bed, a beautiful bed by even his standards, a dark purple silk setting with the lace trimming of gold by his bed seem welcoming, wanting you to lay down and take comfort in the beautifulness that shone in the candle lit room.
Yes, he had thought about bringing the squire to his bed chambers he had thought about it often and it always ended the same.
The little healers face sweaty and smiling. Not dead or broken or even demeaned silently.
He had toyed with young men before to get what he wants. When he had noticed Alex and his hidden desire to beat the little squire Roger had enticed him, made him belong to him and to him alone. No running off and blabbing his mouth for fear and his misguided love of his Master.
But Alan is different. He had laid in those very welcoming covers of his +1 bed and allowed himself to give into desire that would spring from his mind.
Alan fighting him, biting, scratching, kicking, punching, trying to get away became Alan enticing him!
Roger refused to watch the young squire practise his fighting or horse riding, already it was starting to become difficult watching his innocent face blush and start to sweat under the strain of casting a new spell. He would call for Alex as soon as the lessons were over.
Roger placed his hand in a deep pocket of his cloak and pulled out a little wax figure. He twirled it around his fingers and red hair shined in the candlelight, little purple eyes seeming dreadfully real and a friendly winning smile.
"I'll beat you, little squire," he whispered to the wax doll with red hair, "But I'll have you first." He dropped the little wax figure into a tightly woven bag that carried other figures.
A knock on the door and Alex's voice made him notice how late to the celebrations he was. He looked at the little squire through his window once more before setting off.
The wax figure continued smiling that winning smile.