Prompt: Puppy Love, for da_minorkey
Originally Written: 9/10/10
Notes: There are two drabbles here, because da_minorkey was designed for minor characters and my first one was about a companion.
He tells himself he isn't staring even as she circles the bookshelf for the fifteenth time, her feet falling in precisely the same steps as before, and he knows this because his eyes trail after her and when she stands on tiptoe to reach for a book high above her head he doesn't offer his aid because the sleeve of her robes slip and for a moment, just a moment, his breath quickens because the delicate shape of her wrist is on display and she turns her blue eyes on him and he will do anything, anything she asks.
"Greagoir," Wynne says, with the barest hint of a smile, her fingers still pointing towards the book on the shelf, "fetch."
.
He has his pick of any bitch in Denerim, although his courtiers gently encourage him towards those of good breeding; still, he could have his way with the lowest guttersnipe in a back alley and everyone would call it his right, if they acknowledged it at all. He spends hours discerning perfumes, searching for one belonging to a peerless pedigree whose bloodwill only enhance his own. For, as everyone tells him, he must continue his line, and so he searches with his head bowed, his ears alert.
He finds her, but like any lady she must be wooed, and so he fetches flowers and cakes and pretty baubles which often belonged to someone else, but all understand his intent and thus the scoldings are mild. He is, after all, king, and able to do as he pleases. And it pleases him to earn his mistress's praise, her gentle kisses soothing his wounds when he fights for her honor and returns victorious, her head proud, her eyes deep and wise; together, they will found a dynasty that will spread across the country and rule for countless generations to come.