*I don't own Jane and the Dragon or its characters
Inspired by a person who I now think of as a friend, who I thought I disliked. Hope you enjoy!
If there was one person I could not stand, it had to be Gunther. It made sense, at least I thought it did. He loved to tease and to prod, to the point where it was practically his job. For years he would tug at my hair, or leave pig bladders under my saddle. Or who could forget all the times he laughed at the simplest mistakes I made.
In the courtyard, under the blistering sun, we both endured rigorous training. We should have been considered equals, but he carried a certain pride that mocked me for just being of the opposite sex. He was extremely unfair when we spared, using brute strength to get the upper hand. Might have been the fact that he was two years older, and the strength that followed with it, but I had style. Maggot's!
It's true that Jester was the real merry maker, the clown, the royal fool, but when it came to commanding presence, Gunther was captivating. He had this way of demanding attention in a way that was not the most suitable, but he got results. O how I burned with terrible jealousy when Sir Theodore commended him.
Then there were the balls, and how I was the only one not allowed to attend unless it were in a gown. And since it's Gunther we are talking about, he would be donned in his best tunic, which carried a dagger at the hilt. I never could bare that smirk of his, as if he was all that and such, because I felt annoyed by him. I would not even dare dance with him at the balls, but I would watch him. He usually stood in the middle of a crowd of five to ten people, enchanting them with big words or ambiguous speeches. I could not deny that the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, it was somewhat charming.
He was always better, stronger, and more accomplished then I was. If there were one person I would hate, it was most definitely him, right?
Sometimes I would spot him talking to the guys in a manner in which men do. Who knows what they spoke of whether it be of woman or of the finer things, but his smile was something I rarely saw. He looked nice when he smiled, even handsome though I would never admit it.
Then there were the times when we did get along and he looked up at me with those laughing eyes, almost as though he were declaring a challenge, which made me think he was not so bad. Or how his naughtiness was alarmingly attractive.
He did something to me I never expected, something I never saw coming. I thought myself mad for giving allowance for such thoughts as studying the curves of his mouth or the way he stole my attention in a second. Or how the sound of his amusement was the most melodious thing I ever heard. When did it happen? When did I begin searching for his presence when he was absent? Or when did I begin to be silently jealous if anyone other then herself dare mention his name? I have no idea, it was sudden.
It was a confusing thing that I tried to fight, something I wanted to go away. When had my thoughts of hate change so drastically? Was it that I had not really hated him, but confused admiration for hate? It was true that I admired how he choose to do what was right in the end, or how he was a quick thinker. There are a great many of things about him that I could say, but it would be too many.
There were times when I wished I could be very much like him, to do the things a man could do. Perhaps the most alarming was the times I wished I could have been born a man so I could take him like a brother, to care for him and to watch him. But no, I was not a man and never would be, but I could not help myself.
My love was like a storm, having no idea when it will settle.
If I let down my guard for the slightest moment, I might let my mind wander. And perhaps think that beneath the guise of a sarcastic knight, was a hurt man who longed to belong. Even if for just a moment, maybe it would not be so bad to like him. Who said he had to know? What he does not know would not hurt him, but what he can get to know would be even better.