Curls
Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely associated with King Arthur. Would be nice. But, alas, you can't sue me as I have no money, nor am I making any from this
Summary:Lancelot's curls. Been wondering about them for a while.
A/N: Just a bit of fluff that I fiddled with tonight as I try to make myself sleepy. Was watching Horatio Hornblower and thought how lovely Ioan's hair is.
Another busy night in the fort's tavern. Another night where Arthur's men got drunk.
She sat hidden in the shadows, knowing that no one would seek her out. She sat hidden, able to watch the knights as they drank, letting out the tension of the previous day's battle. Each thanking their gods that they survived another day.
Her gaze was brought to the men in question, her eyes taking in the sight of them all. All of them handsome. All of them unique in their own way.
Especially one. There was one in particular that she loved to watch. The knight with the dark hair and eyes. And the ready smile.
But, it was his hair that she loved so much about this man.
That dark hair with all those wonderful curls. Curls that just begged to be touched.
She sat wondering how those beautiful brown curls would feel between her fingers. Would the strands catch on the callouses that formed on her hands? No, they would move over her hands like water that smooths the stones.
She wondered at the texture of them.
Would they be soft? Or would they be rough, much like her own was. Her own hair felt like old straw.
No. His hair would feel like silk. Like touching air. Or the petal of the deep red rose he had given her once.
That petal had felt so smooth, so soft. She had dried it, it now sat in a very safe place in her tiny room. In a place where she could look at it every day.
She pictured twirling one of the ringlets around her finger, watching as the light played at the different colors of brown.
Would she see gold in them. Maybe a light brown the color of Arthur's horse's eyes. Or maybe blacks? Like the soot that blackened her hands as she cleaned out the fireplaces in the knight's rooms.
Or, perhaps, would she see the first signs of grey, having been in the service of Rome these past fifteen years? Surely, he wasn't that old to have grey in his hair. Or if he was, was he just vain enough to find some way to get rid of the telling strands.
She closed her eyes, smiling.
What she wouldn't give to run her hands through his hair. Just this once for real and not in her dreams.
This brought a blush to her face, warming as it traveled from her cheeks to her chest.
Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a large hand on her shoulders.
"Tell me pretty lady, where were your thoughts just then." Came a whisper in her ears, his breath sending chills up her arms.
She opened her eyes, looking into the smiling face of Lancelot.
She tucked her head, her face growing redder by the moment. She then lifted her chin, deciding that for just this one night, she would be bold.
"I was thinking, good sir, of how wonderful it would be... to run my hands through your lovely curls."
A/N: Just something to pass the time as I wait to post again. I needed a fix... I'm trying to hold off... I'm so hooked! (grin!)