Violent Tendencies

The fish was miserably thin, with a total length of approximately 5 inches long. Swimming in a puddle of yellow-tinted lemon juice, it stared defiantly at her with its open sightless eye, baring its lightly charred side. The green peas rolled agilely across her white ceramic plate, insistently avoiding the menacing tips of her fork. A piece of lightly toasted brown bread balanced on a corner of her plate, the white crumbs of the soft centre disintegrating and leaving a little trail.

She glared at her plate and its occupants. Holding her fork like a shamshir, she stabbed fiercely into the belly of the fish, before proceeding to dissect it with the precision of a practiced veteran.

"Did you hear?" Tethys giggled. "There is a rumour going around the camp." She giggled suggestively.

She slit the belly open in one clean stroke, squinting at the various roasted fish organs tumbling out amongst the peas.

"They said that…" Tethys giggled furiously. Turning around, she checked that no one was near. "They said that our new King has a sweetheart lover!" She started with a whisper and ended in a high-pitched squeal. "Isn't that cool? We're going to have a new queen! I just can't wait to know who she is…"

"Yes…fascinating…" She snarled under her breath as she beheaded the fish in another swift stroke, throwing the head with the unblinking wide eye off the table. Cormag's wyvern promptly extended its scaly head and sniffed curiously at the dismembered head, before snapping it up in its jaws and retreating to munch in peace and happiness.

"I can't wait…" Tethys sighed in a sing-song voice, a dreamy look on her face. "She must be a rare beauty…maybe she'll have lovely curled blond tresses…or maybe romantic long straight red locks like Queen Ismaire…"

"Curled blond tresses…might as well buy a princess wig," she sneered softly as she cut the fish into small strips of white boneless flesh, wet from the puddles of lemon juice.

"Hey, why are you speaking to your fish?"

She looked up to see her new King of Jehanna seat himself opposite her at the table. He was carrying a similar plate, with a similar dinner on it, only that his fish was still whole and relatively not violated.

"Umm…your fish looks a little…" He leaned in and examined, wit great interest, her headless, boneless and completely mashed fish (if one could even deduce it was a fish from the white lump stained light yellow). Raising an eyebrow, he sat up straight again and grinned. "Did the fish do something to annoy you?"

She grunted. Truth to be told, the fish was an innocent victim, unfairly subjected to the tortures of her fork and fury, but of course he was not going to know that, and she did not intend to tell him.

"Remember me never to cross you during mealtimes," he said good-naturedly, lifting a piece of his fish into his mouth. "Hmm…strange…mine tastes okay…Do you want to try mine?"

She stared at the piece of white flesh hanging off the edge of his fork, slightly moist on the corner from where he had already eaten a portion. A drop of yellow dripped onto the table, making a wet circle on the wooden table.

"Never mind," she lifted a piece of her own fish into her mouth and chewed, and chewed, and chewed. It tasted like…tasteless white flesh.

What a marvelous vocabulary I have. She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

Okay, to be fair, it did have some taste. It tasted of cardboard. Well, that was still a taste, right?

"Is it good? It's good, right?" Joshua was watching her closely, examining the expression on her face. When she kept silent, he sank back into his seat and shoved another forkful of fish into his mouth. Grinning, he continued, "You know Natasha? Yeah, she cooked today, so today's dinner would be really delicious. She's such a good cook…She'll make such a great wife…" He chewed thoughtfully. "She almost has the words 'wife' written on her forehead…Ouch!"

The half-chewed fish in his mouth spewed out onto the table. She dodged as a shower of white moist debris rained her way.

Groaning, he massaged his shin. "What did you kick me for?" he frowned at her. "Natasha never ever does anything remotely violent…Ouch!"

Heavier showers of white soggy debris. Next time, she would bring umbrellas for dinner. She was getting a little tired from ducking from the flying white pellets.

"Are you remotely hormonal today, woman?" He muttered sullenly. "Any higher and I would be in danger of…Oww!"

She had planted a well-aimed kick just slightly higher than her previous two.

He shut up immediately, glaring.

She glared back.

The glaring match continued till his plate was empty, while hers was still fully crammed with what remained of her peas, bread and fish, which was generally a solid lump of brown, green and white, covered with extra grease.

"Hey, Marisa…" he ventured tentatively. "Are you sure you're okay today? You seem a little…" He struggled to find the right word that would hit the nail on the head but would not warrant him a fatal kick. "…distant…"

Was it the right time to ask that question?

Seeing that she kept silent, he stood and turned to leave.

"Wait!" she blurted.

Oops.

The word just came out. It was completely unintentional, and it was completely impromptu, and now she had to ask the question that had been bugging her since the start of dinner.

Great. Just great.

"There's this rumour going around saying that you have a lover," she blurted again, before she could stop herself. She could have kicked herself for her foolishness and lack of self-control. What had all those years of swordsmanship taught her? To be brash and shoot her mouth off?

"Go on…" He said slowly, nodding his head slightly. If he was surprised by the rumour, he showed no indication of it on his face.

"Is it…Natasha?" The name came out before she could stop herself. Once again, curiosity triumphed over self-discipline. Perhaps she should leave. Now.

Slowly a smirk stretched over his face. "Why so interested, Marisa?" He closed the distance between them. "You never struck me as one to meddle in others' love affairs…"

She felt the blood rush to her face as her cheeks felt unusually warm. "It's not! It's not what you think!" Her voice came out higher-pitched than usual. "I-I just want to know who's my future queen!"

His smirk widened at her discomfort. "Really?" Then he took a step back and shrugged. "Yeah, you hit the bulls' eye. She's gorgeous, isn't she? She'll make a lovely queen. Can cook, can dance, can heal, can sing…"

"Oh." She deflated like a balloon, the colour rapidly leaving her cheeks. "I wish you two all the best then…" Turning around, she tried to ignore the unbearable sinking feeling in her.

Right, who was she to imagine she ever had a chance? Remember? Can't even walk in straight line or fry an egg here?

Scarcely had she taken two steps before her arm was gripped tightly and she was turned back to face him.

"Hey! I was joking! Marisa! No need to-" His eyes widened as he saw her face. "Oh, lord!" His voice dropped to a shocked whisper. "Are you…crying?" He frantically tried to wipe away the tearstains on her cheeks with his hands. There was guilt and shock written all over his face. "Marisa, I was joking…really…I…" He found himself at an absolute loss of words as the tears spilled once more from her eyes.

"Oh…lords…" He groaned. "Now I really screwed up…big time…" Grasping her shoulders, he shook her gently. "Marisa? Listen…I never meant what I said…it was a joke, really! It was all a joke! I'm sorry…please don't cry…oh, how do I fix this?"

She had never cried ever since she was six. She did not cry when the blades of swords bit into her flesh; she did not cry when her father scolded her for not practicing hard enough; she did not cry when she left her father to join the mercenary troop…but now she cried, because of one thing that he had said.

She could not help it. All she had to do was think of Natasha in his embrace, and a sense of loss and sorrow would well up within her, bringing with it a flood of tears that flowed down her cheeks.

Her body shook gently as he placed his arms around her, circling her in a tight embrace. A lone teardrop dripped from her chin onto the ground as his lips gently touched hers. She sniffed as his long hair tickled her neck.

Ever so gently, he whispered the three words into her ear, sending a pleasant shiver running down her spine.

When they pulled apart, she was looking into his eyes, two garnets sparkling with tenderness. She reached up tentatively to wipe her tears from his cheeks.

"Now that you know who my sweetheart lover is, you don't need to cry anymore, right?" He smiled. "Now, don't cry; smile. You look good when you smile."

Still sniffing and hiccupping from her emotional breakdown, she attempted a small smile, just for his sake.

"That's better," he grinned.

"Are you sure…" she asked softly. "You want me instead of…" She could think of a bevy of lovely maidens in this army alone whom were eligible for him. Natasha, L'Arachel, Tethys…

"I'm sure, as sure as my name is Joshua and your name is Marisa," he grinned. "Looks like someone here has self-confidence issues…"

She glared at him through her tears. Even in her emotional state, she still had the capacity and the desire to give him a sound kick in his shin.

"Kidding…" he backed away slowly, holding his hands up in the air in a sign of surrender. "You know," he continued wryly, a smirk forming on his face. "Even Natasha doesn't kick whenever she feels insulted…"

She took off after him, running across the grass. When she did catch him, she would make sure he would leave a bruise on his shin for the rest of the year.

This story is 100% drabble. It's 100% dribble too. It was inspired by my very inspiring dinner.

Yes, it was fish.