Being left to himself in such a large mansion was a bit…uncomfortable. Of course, he was not completely alone; there were maids and butlers and people about doing their jobs, but…but he did not know anyone, and no one talked to him (save for the butler who had no sense of humor). He looked around, the hallways were long and silent, natural lighting did not reach the hallway until the very end, where a large window opened to the many fields.
The bright sun was a tempting coercion and so he gave in, walking down the grand stairs; not failing to look at the huge painting. He analyzed the stoic faces of the four figures depicted. He had already established who Arturia was, a young blonde in the middle, Morgana, who was standing just behind her and her parents on either side.
The family in the portrait were strange, he would admit. They seemed genuinely happy, but they were stoic and serious. Thinking back to his family picture, they were all smiling so why was Arturia's family so…different? Obviously, families are always different…
Lunch hour had breezed by and the food prepared for him had been ever so delicious that he was sure he would not taste such a meal again; even if it were made by his mother. He decided to spend some time in the living room, where he knew he could find as many as a hundred interesting things. Sure enough, when he strolled inside, he saw knights' armour and swords, spears, antiques and maybe even relics. Sure enough, they were authentic and looked to be very, very expensive.
Diarmuid did not know how much time he had spent watching, analyzing and marvelling in all the trinkets around him, but he could tell the sunlight was not as intense anymore. The decorated red carpet on the floor also seemed to be of great value, as did the embroidered window sheers and the ornamented cushions that sat perfectly on the chaise. Curiously, Diarmuid reach out to feel the smooth armour of one of the knights, as this was what fascinated him the most.
He heard the front door swing open but after checking the time, he figured it was not Arturia and so he continued playing bout with the small sword letter opener. His ears perked when he heard the powerful and confident stride of a woman; he always liked to hear heels on marble, it was pleasing for some odd reason. Then, a woman walked by the doorway of the living room.
Diarmuid couldn't catch a proper glimpse of her as she dashed past with determined steps. Though as soon as she passed the foyer, her steps stopped, and he could no longer hear the satisfactory sound of her heels, abruptly, they started again, as suddenly as the stopped. This time, however, they approached the living room and soon enough a woman stood in the entryway.
Wavy brown hair was rolling in loose ways over one of her shoulders, big cat-eye sunglasses (like those from Breakfast at Tiffany's; don't ask, Diarmuid somehow liked that movie) framing her face, cherry red lips as she held a cream purse in one hand and a fancy scarf tied around her neck. She wore an off-the-shoulder flower print shirt as a white, high-waisted pencil skirt accentuated both her hips and her thin waist.
Her unoccupied but adorned had gracefully lifted and she took off her sunglasses just as the butler strolled behind her with a couple of luggage bags.
Her eyes lit up and the edges of her lips curled. "Oh, hello," came her thick country accent, "Diarmuid, was it?"
She was well made up, and she looked so beautiful in the warm light of the sun. After becoming a model, he sure had met a handful of pretty ladies.
"Yes, uh, hi, Miss Pendragon." He waved, pulling his hand back from the breast plate of one of the hollow knights.
Morgana took a step towards him and he walked to meet her just at the edge of the carpet. She extended her hand out towards him, the way a princess would. He took her hand and assumed he was to kiss it and thus he did. This action made the woman giggle, sea green eyes flooding with mirth.
"How chivalrous of you." She tilted her shoulder, a smile still on her face, he strong cheekbones coloured soft pink. "Though," she took her hand back kindly, "you were only meant to hold it for a second or two. And I am not Miss Pendragon any more, you can call me Morgana."
"Oh," he blushed, "I…I didn't know, I'm sorry."
"No need to worry." She shrugged, stepping fully into the living room and looking around, not exactly worried that he had ruined something. "What brings you to our lovely estate? Were you waiting long?"
Diarmuid did not keep his eyes off her as she walked past him, shaking his head; unsure if Arturia would have allowed him to tell the truth. Though, there was nothing to hide, for nothing wrong was done. "No, I…Arturia insisted I stay here for a while…"
She darted her eyes towards him, an eyebrow raising inquisitively, leaving her purse on the chaise. "Oh? Is that so?"
He gulped, nodding. He felt inferior to her, becoming self aware of his actions and looks. Was what he was wearing not presentable? Did he have bags under his eyes from the lack of rest?
A devious smile warped her lips and she gave a slight laugh. "I did not know you two were so…well acquainted."
Diarmuid just stared at her in silence, feeling awkward.
"What's this? What happened?" Morgana finally caught sight of his arm, not having questioned it before.
He looked down at his hand and gave a nervous laugh. "I, sorta sprained my wrist."
"Oh my! Was this Arturia's doing? I thought I told her to not treat her boys so roughly. When does she ever listen to her older sister?"
Immediately, he raised his hand, "Oh no! It wasn't her fault at all. I was the one that fell. Apparently a little too hard."
"I'm sure you did." Had she sounded a little…cheeky? That had to be his imagination, right? "Anyway," his thoughts fluttered away, "did you already get a tour of the house?"
"No, I…I didn't yet," he said in a low murmur, "Arturia was very busy and I would not want to intrude."
"You are much too modest. I will show you about and you will get to know the whole house just like the back of your palm! How long have you been here for?" She wrapped her arm around his and pulled him along with her.
He followed her, without much restraint. "I just got here yesterday evening…"
"I see," her eyes glinted, "it must have been a long night."
"Not exactly…"
"Well, now that you are well acquainted with our living room, we'll continue to the kitchen; my favourite place, personally." That is what they did, they crossed the foyers, arms hooked as they strode towards the kitchen. There was not a single second that he did not look around in astonishment of the high ceilings, delicate paintings and historic trinkets that lines coffee tables and stands. He had even spotted a few marble busts that amazed him. He had really wanted to touch one, to feel the smooth marble face, to see if it was smoother than a baby's cheeks.
"I spend most of my time here, trying new recipes and making my little sister the Guinea pig. It's always a pleasure to see her face light up when I make something she likes. My husband also enjoys my cooking. If you stay the night, I might have time to make you something." The countertop was a think nearly opaque glass, the kitchen splashed in a grey off-white that made it look spacious. "Of course, this is the family's kitchen, there is a kitchen in the lower floor where the servants prepare the food." She looked away, as if embarrassed.
"The kitchen is beautiful." He offered her a smile.
"Thank you, my mother and I try to keep it in shape; while my father and Arturia mess it all up," she answered. "If you are ever hungry, you could call the butler or come to the kitchen."
They walked about more, and she showed him the antique greenhouse, the gardens, the many rooms he was allowed in, the doors of those he wasn't, she even showed him the servants' hall and the attic. Walking past a hallway, she stopped.
"And down this hall is Arturia's bedroom…but I'm sure you already know." She winked and immediately he turned crimson as his cheeks lit up.
Diarmuid was flustered, taking his arm back and nearly shaking. "No, I—uhm I…She, we, err—"
Morgana batted her lashes and shook her head. "You need not explain yourself. I just hope Arturia is taking good care of you."
"No, it isn't like—"
"Dia, please." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she straightened, standing nice and tall, proud of how she had made him so flustered. "My sister only picks the best, and I can see she had great taste with you."
He gulped, coughing slightly as he wanted to cover his cheeks, certain they were tainted red with embarrassment. He wanted to run and hide from her, but he could not even bring himself to do that, thus he opted to turn away. "M-Morgana," he puffed, "I, uhm, I can assure you that…I can assure you that it wasn't anything like that."
"Like what?" Diarmuid jumped at the voice of Arturia, he knew, in this moment, that he wanted the earth to open and swallow him whole…but alas, that was impossible.
"Sister dear!" Morgana's smile stretched wide, and she extended her hands out to the blonde. "You're home much earlier than usual."
"I could say the same for you." Arturia's lips never once stretched, not even twitching. She was stoic, as per usual. "Were you not supposed to be home in a week or two?"
Morgana tittered, "Yes, that is true," she gave a half-hearted frown, "but, Merlin had to hurry back for one of his patients was experiencing complications and we had to cut our vacation in the continent short, much to your dismay."
Arturia blinked. "You should have called."
"I realize that now, but how would I have known that you had a lovely guest over?" There was a sly glint in Morgana's sea green eyes and she gave an innocent smile, fluttering her eyelashes. "And I must say you are very sneaky, dear sister. You knew much too well that our parents would not be home for another month and took advantage of the fact that Merlin and I were away to bring such a handsome company."
"Well, now that you have met, maybe you would be so kind as to make us something to eat."
Morgana's smile wavered a tad bit, but she brushed away her impatience. "You read my mind! I wanted to make something sublime for your sweet model. Would you like steak, Dia?" She turned to him and his cheeks immediately bloomed once again.
"Er, I…I'm okay with anything, really."
"Perfect! I'll make sure you have the best meal of your life! I promise you, you will not regret this." If Diarmuid admired something from Morgana; it was her enthusiasm, and her carefree nature. She wasn't like any other girl he had met. You see, Sileas was a flirt, sexy, sultry and a million leagues ahead of him. Arturia, on the other hand, was elegant, sophisticated and regal, something like a queen that held her head high and was ever so serious. Finally, Morgana was funny, childish, suggestive in her speech, enthusiastic and still somehow very proud and confident. She was strange in such a way that he knew she wasn't so far to reach yet still too good.
"Thank you," he returned the smile.
"Now, I'll leave you two alone, so you could…talk." Morgana gave one last wink before confidently and proudly making her way towards the kitchen.
Arturia cleared her throat. "I do very much apologize for her behaviour."
"There's no need, she was great company," Diarmuid assured, offering his boss a soft smile.
Why must I keep making Morgana so embarrassing in my fics? x.x
