Arthurian fanfic meme
This is an arthurian fanfic meme.
A fanfic meme is a way to write new fanfictions with new prompts and requests.
It is quite easy, after reading the rules you may post a prompt and/or fill any of the other posted prompts.
You can post anonymously if you want but it is not necessary.
( Read more... )
A fanfic meme is a way to write new fanfictions with new prompts and requests.
It is quite easy, after reading the rules you may post a prompt and/or fill any of the other posted prompts.
You can post anonymously if you want but it is not necessary.
( Read more... )
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The feast was going to be boring, Mordred could just feel it in his bones. Actually all feasts were boring in Camelot since Lancelot's arrival.
Every knight now was trying to emulate the Great Lancelot and so they all avoided alcoohol.
No alcoohol meant no stupid knights who tried to climb on the table and sing stupid love songs to Queen Guinevere.
(Actually, Mordred was extremely sure that Queen Guinevere was being bored to death for the same reasons).
Mordred that night made a point of not emulating Lancelot. Everytime Lancelot or some other noble knight of the round table looked in his direction Mordred started drinking.
He wasn't really drunk, just a bit inebrihated (and he had no intention of climbing on the table and declaring his love for Guinevere).
"Good evening, noble sir Mordred."
Mordred frowned. There was a lady near him that there wasn't earlier. She was very tall and not as delicate and thin as the other ladies in the room. She had auburn hair covered by a veil and smiling dark eyes.
"I don't know you, milady," Mordred slurred a bit.
"Well, who really knows me?" laughed the lady.
On the other side of the table, Tristan started laughing isterically and Mordred looked at him with suspicion.
"I agree on your drinking decision," started the lady. "Lancelot and his lot are no fun. I think even the queen is dying of boredom."
"Oh, I agree," smiled Mordred, feeling a little stupid. It had been months or even years since the last time he had tried being nice to a lady. (That's the word his mother always used for seducing. "Oh Mordred, don't be silly. I am just being nice to that kind man.").
"What is your name, kind lady?"
"Lady Dina, sir," answered the lady, smiling under the veil.
Mordred was drunk (inebriated was the righ word) but he could see that something was wrong.
For istance, a lot of knights were laughing and they were not even drunk (or inebriated). And then, this lady Dina had larger shoulders than his.
"Dinadan?" Mordred nearly chocked on his own breath when the lady - Dinadan - taked off the veil a little and showed no round and soft face but a strong mouth and a very big smile.
"I am the best of two, delicate as a lady and rough as a man."
"I don't even want to imagine-" stammered Mordred, feeling his own cheeks growing hot.
"Come on, Mordred, smile," whispered Dinadan, in Mordred's ear. "I'll be your woman, tonight."
"Why are you even in woman clothes?"
"A bet. To seduce the sulkiest knight in the room."
"I am not the sulkiest- well, maybe I am."
Dinadan touched Mordred's hand and got closer, again.
"The bet is against Tristan and Lancelot. If I win, half the winnings will be yours."
"Oh, you are the fairest lady I've ever seen," shouted Mordred in an exagerate loud voice.
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