Crossover - Chivalry Isn't Dead (It's Just Resting Its Eyes)
Okay, so earlier this year after "The Coming of Arthur" aired, we were talking over at 
camelot_fleet about Leon's immortality. This got lost, found, set on the back burner, and then dug out again this week because the awesomeness of Peter Wingfield happened to guest star on the new show Alphas. This is the result.
Title: Chivalry Isn’t Dead (It’s Just Resting Its Eyes)
Genre: Crossover - Highlander/Merlin
Pairings: implied Merlin/Leon, implied Merlin/Gwaine or facsimile thereof, implied Merlin/Arthur (he gets around)
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~2,500 words
Spoilers: For the myths only, though could be seen as slight spoiler for the end of Series 3 (The Coming of Arthur). Also, Methos exists.
Synopsis: Duncan is going to need something amber and aged at least fifteen years to process this.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.
Duncan was walking home from Joe’s bar, the currently named “Adam Pierson” beside him, when he felt the presence of another Immortal. There was a slight twinge to it and it faded far quicker than most, which confused him, but he had learned a lot of things had subtle differences over the years and this was likely one of them.
He pulled his friend into a nearby alleyway and pulled his sword from its sheath hidden within his long duster coat. “Show yourself,” he demanded.
“Because, really, there was a chance this night could have ended with a peaceful passing,” Adam muttered, but Duncan saw him dig in his own coat for his own weapon of choice. He had a feeling there were many to choose from, belying the peaceful comment.
A behemoth of a man appeared from the shadows of the back door of an old restaurant, wild hair the colour of flames and rather clashing with the red flannel jacket he wore over what appeared to be a plain white t-shirt and jeans. His beard was neatly trimmed and his massive hands seemed empty, but only for a moment before a Roman style short sword swung about to the ready position.
“I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” Duncan announced with his usual gravity.
“Leon of Albion,” the behemoth replied, though there was a slight pause before he listed where he was from, as if choosing a proper title or simply making one up. “I issued no challenge, but will heed yours if you so choose.”
Duncan was honestly not sure what to make of that. His friend smiling at his side was not exactly helping either. He was about to lower his weapon, especially considering Adam already had, when a new figure joined the tableaux.
“Wait! There’s no reason for bloodshed! We’re just walking through, that’s all,” the lanky and frankly quite skinny man insisted. He too appeared unarmed, hands waving in the air exposing his thin wrists, but it was possible he had something hidden in the ridiculous waistcoat he wore. The shadows were too severe to make out his exact features, but he seemed young, in appearance if not actuality.
Duncan noticed the man beside him change his posture, still holding his weapon but with a casualness that he could not tell was forced or not. “Emrys?” he asked, his tone a mixture of surprise, familiarity, and exasperation.
“Methos!” the newly named Emrys enthused, surprising Duncan by calling his friend by the name few knew and fewer dared to make public. Emrys made as if to greet his acquaintance, but was pulled back by the one called Leon.
Duncan thought there could have been some sort of hostage situation going on, right up until he heard Leon chide, “Really, Merlin, a little restraint? Please remember these men are armed and at least one of them has butchered thousands in the past.”
“But it’s Methos and that was ages ago,” the smaller man insisted with more than a hint of a whinge as he tried to pull himself free. Duncan was no longer certain what to call him. Merlin or Emrys, both were full of meaning and history and neither rather seemed to fit the rather unassuming figure before him.
“Ah, Leon, you haven’t changed a bit,” Adam smiled. He swung his sword up to rest on his shoulder and shifted his weight slightly, looking even less of a threat than before, sharpened steel or no.
The behemoth mimicked his posture and offered only the slightest quirk of his lips. “You have, friend, if you are calling out challenges to strangers in dark alleyways,” he replied.
Adam waved off the implication. “That’s just MacLeod, you know how high and mighty the Scots can be,” he explained.
Duncan glared at his supposed friend, but Leon’s lips quirked slightly more and the palpable tension that had been growing between them seemed to fade. “That means you can let me go now,” Emrys huffed. Leon complied and the smaller man righted his jacket and rolled his eyes. “Like any of you lot are truly a threat to me,” he muttered in annoyance.
While Duncan tried to puzzle that one out, Leon and Adam sheathed their blades and Adam offered, “Enough of a threat that you keep your bodyguard around though.”
Emrys looked like he wanted to roll his eyes again as he stepped closer to greet Adam right and proper. He also looked like he wanted to stick out his tongue, but that could just be because he looked so very young with not a hint of stubble and was all gangly limbs as he lopped over, his guard dog following more sedately behind him.
Duncan finally sheathed his own sword at the three pointed looks he received, and listened as Emrys shrugged and explained, “We’re after the same goal, so we tend to stick together. Every few decades he gets tired of me, gets into a mess, and we meet up again in time for me to save his knightly arse - you know how it is.”
Leon sighed the sigh of the long suffering. “I get into a mess? What about that incident in Prague? Who saved who from the locked, burning, and dare I mention, enchanted building?”
Emrys snapped his jaw shut at that, much to Adam’s apparent amusement. “He looked like Gwaine. How was I supposed to know he was a warlock?” he mumbled.
“The solid black eyes when he started reciting that incantation should have been a tell,” Leon offered, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. “How was it again that you ended up cuffed to the-?”
“I told you, he looked like Gwaine,” Emrys insisted, cutting him off and turning the most interesting shade of crimson in the pale light filtering in from the street.
“So he hasn’t changed at all then?” Adam asked, looking thoroughly entertained.
Leon shrugged again. “A few more tricks up his sleeves, perhaps, but the same nose for trouble,” he agreed.
Duncan decided the pause in conversation was the perfect time to properly introduce himself. He held out his hand and said, “I’m Duncan MacLeod.”
Emrys glanced down at his hand, and then back up to his face. “Yeah, you said that. Not impressed.” Ignoring Duncan’s blink of incomprehension, he continued, “Met the other MacLeod once - Connor, was it? Liked him. A bit old school, but he took on a sorcerer I was headed for myself and survived and all, so there’s that.”
“He’s my cousin,” Duncan said, not quite sure what to make of the brush off.
Emrys pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side before shaking it. “Hmm, no, don’t see the resemblance. You sure you’re actually cousins, or just foundlings raised by the same clan? Because you Immortals never can be sure, you know. Just dropped off for others to find and raise and then bam! Tragic death and you think you’re all special and need to go play with knives to see who’s the specialist of you all and... I went off again, didn’t I?” he rambled.
Adam nodded while Leon offhandedly explained to Duncan, “He does that some times.”
Duncan felt a little out of his league, at least with some of the familiarity between the three others. He did, however, feel justified in guessing, “So he’s not Immortal then, just knows of us?”
Leon opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the smaller man. “I’m immortal, can’t die and all that, at least not until you-know-who is found and even then I am not sure, but I am not ‘Immortal’ like you lot. Different curse, different rules, yadda, yadda.” He looked rather bored with the whole topic, to be honest. Then again, he also looked a bit ridiculous in his navy blue waistcoat with a bright red scarf wrapped around his neck to ward of the rather negligible chill so Duncan was not sure he could take anything he said with any level of seriousness.
“MacLeod’s confused,” Adam announced, earning another glare for his efforts. “I’d also like to suggest a place other than an abandoned alley to play catch up, if we could? It’s a little exposed for my tastes. Joe would likely let us have the bar as it is after closing time, but he would badger you two with more questions than MacLeod here, so there’s your trade off. What’s your preference?”
Emrys looked to Leon who did what Duncan was beginning to think of as his habitual shrug. “I have a temporary place not far from here, away from prying eyes and all that,” he offered. “Can I assume we should walk instead of...” He trailed off and waved his hand loosely through the air in some gesture Duncan could not guess the meaning of.
Adam nodded for them both though and raised his eyebrows as he added, “It’s probably best to save the parlour tricks until after the explanation.”
Emrys agreed amiably enough and gestured down the way he and Leon had originally came. “This way then,” he said unnecessarily. “Leon will likely want you where he can see you though, just so you know.”
Duncan followed behind the odd man with Adam at his side and Leon only a short distance behind. “You trust them?” he asked, not bothering to lower his voice as the alleyway echoed anyway.
“As much as I trust anyone,” came Adam’s less than reassuring response. He must have seen something in Duncan’s expression as he wrapped a companionable arm around his shoulders and said, “You know how you are always going on about that ridiculous notion of ‘chivalry’ and such? You’re going to love some of the stories these two have to offer.”
He laughed at his own joke and patted his friend on the shoulder before dropping back to converse with Leon in quiet tones that Duncan only partially tried to drown out. He looked up to see where their guide was leading them to find Emrys walking quickly down another darkened alley. The single streetlight on the corner was shattered and the nearest one was too far away to be of any real assistance.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” Emrys called over his shoulder and, for a moment, Duncan could have sworn his eyes shone gold. The seemingly younger man said something in a language that sounded vaguely familiar, yet still foreign to Duncan’s untrained ears, and a ball of light the same colour as the glint in his eyes flew from his hand to the cracked glass, illuminating the area in a glow far more pervasive than any standard light bulb.
“I see he still likes to keep a low profile then,” Adam offered glibly. “And listens to the whole ‘no parlour tricks until after the explanation’ bit as well.”
“Bane of my existence,” Leon sighed almost fondly with a shake of his head. “If I didn’t need him to find Arthur, I would have left him with that blasted sorcerer.”
“No you wouldn’t have,” Adam guessed.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t, especially as Arthur would off me himself if I ever found him,” Leon agreed easily enough. “But it’s nice to dream.”
Adam chuckled at that and followed Duncan into the unnatural light. He did not explain his muttered, “You have to be kidding me,” when Emrys entered the Excalibur hotel and asked for the keys for one Lance Pendragon, but Duncan figured he would get the story soon enough.
“Bane of my existence,” Leon repeated in the same quiet tone.
“Oi, don’t make me take your Quickening away,” Emrys threatened.
Leon looked completely unperturbed. “You’ve been saying that for the last century. If you really knew how you would have used that spell a dozen times over by now,” he pointed out. More to Adam than to Duncan, he added, “This is precisely why a ban on magic was not a completely unwarranted. Sorcerers get far too full of themselves for their own good.”
Duncan tried to sort out the word “magic” and the repeated use of the word “sorcerer” over the past few minutes, and parse that with what he knew of Immortality in general. He really hoped an explanation was forthcoming, for this as well as many other things, including but not limited to why the supposed long suffering duo had chosen a room that came complete with a kitchenette and fireplace, but only held a single bed.
As Leon brushed past him and winked in his direction, he swore he heard him say, “It’s not all bad.”
Explanations. He definitely needed explanations. And possibly a large glass of a single malt aged at least fifteen years.
As if in answer to his unspoken request, Emrys pulled out four tumblers from a drawer Duncan could have sworn was empty, and added a bottle full of soothing amber liquid with the number twenty-five emblazoned on the side. Emrys then poured several fingers’ worth into each glass and passed them around before claiming a bed overflowing with a ridiculous number of pillows for himself.
Adam gulped the contents of his tumbler down with a heartfelt sigh, and motioned for Duncan to do the same. Duncan only hesitated slightly to take a sip of what was offered, not fully certain he could trust this odd duo, but not wanting to pass up a gift like what was set before him. The liquor burned down his throat smooth and pure and he fought the urge to chase after any drops that may have lingered on his lips with his tongue. Instead, he pulled up one of the simple chairs that had been set off to the side and settled in for what he hoped to be an enlightening, if not entertaining, evening.
Leon brought a chair up to the side of the bed and pointedly removed the tumbler from Emrys’ hand, muttering something about tolerance and having none even after all these years. He did not seem to have a similar problem himself though, as he tossed the stolen drink down his gullet and then settled back to nurse the second glass.
Emrys glared at him as shrugged off his coat to reveal a shirt of the same ridiculous blue beneath it. As he threw the garment on the bed, Duncan could have sworn a fifth tumbler appeared, hidden behind the settling folds of cloth. The supposed sorcerer held his finger to his lips with a smile before leaning back against the pillows once more, the oddest pair of leather boots Duncan had ever seen crossed at the ankles and leaving streaks of dirt along the spotless duvet, much to Leon’s apparent consternation if his expression was anything to go by.
“So, Methos says you like chivalry,” Emrys said, a mischievous but thankfully not golden gleam to his eyes. At Duncan’s reluctant nod, his grin grew wide and possibly a little bit frightening as he said, “Oh, you are going to love this.”
End.
Feedback is always welcomed.
This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/362669.html. Current comments
camelot_fleet about Leon's immortality. This got lost, found, set on the back burner, and then dug out again this week because the awesomeness of Peter Wingfield happened to guest star on the new show Alphas. This is the result.
Title: Chivalry Isn’t Dead (It’s Just Resting Its Eyes)
Genre: Crossover - Highlander/Merlin
Pairings: implied Merlin/Leon, implied Merlin/Gwaine or facsimile thereof, implied Merlin/Arthur (he gets around)
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~2,500 words
Spoilers: For the myths only, though could be seen as slight spoiler for the end of Series 3 (The Coming of Arthur). Also, Methos exists.
Synopsis: Duncan is going to need something amber and aged at least fifteen years to process this.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.
Duncan was walking home from Joe’s bar, the currently named “Adam Pierson” beside him, when he felt the presence of another Immortal. There was a slight twinge to it and it faded far quicker than most, which confused him, but he had learned a lot of things had subtle differences over the years and this was likely one of them.
He pulled his friend into a nearby alleyway and pulled his sword from its sheath hidden within his long duster coat. “Show yourself,” he demanded.
“Because, really, there was a chance this night could have ended with a peaceful passing,” Adam muttered, but Duncan saw him dig in his own coat for his own weapon of choice. He had a feeling there were many to choose from, belying the peaceful comment.
A behemoth of a man appeared from the shadows of the back door of an old restaurant, wild hair the colour of flames and rather clashing with the red flannel jacket he wore over what appeared to be a plain white t-shirt and jeans. His beard was neatly trimmed and his massive hands seemed empty, but only for a moment before a Roman style short sword swung about to the ready position.
“I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” Duncan announced with his usual gravity.
“Leon of Albion,” the behemoth replied, though there was a slight pause before he listed where he was from, as if choosing a proper title or simply making one up. “I issued no challenge, but will heed yours if you so choose.”
Duncan was honestly not sure what to make of that. His friend smiling at his side was not exactly helping either. He was about to lower his weapon, especially considering Adam already had, when a new figure joined the tableaux.
“Wait! There’s no reason for bloodshed! We’re just walking through, that’s all,” the lanky and frankly quite skinny man insisted. He too appeared unarmed, hands waving in the air exposing his thin wrists, but it was possible he had something hidden in the ridiculous waistcoat he wore. The shadows were too severe to make out his exact features, but he seemed young, in appearance if not actuality.
Duncan noticed the man beside him change his posture, still holding his weapon but with a casualness that he could not tell was forced or not. “Emrys?” he asked, his tone a mixture of surprise, familiarity, and exasperation.
“Methos!” the newly named Emrys enthused, surprising Duncan by calling his friend by the name few knew and fewer dared to make public. Emrys made as if to greet his acquaintance, but was pulled back by the one called Leon.
Duncan thought there could have been some sort of hostage situation going on, right up until he heard Leon chide, “Really, Merlin, a little restraint? Please remember these men are armed and at least one of them has butchered thousands in the past.”
“But it’s Methos and that was ages ago,” the smaller man insisted with more than a hint of a whinge as he tried to pull himself free. Duncan was no longer certain what to call him. Merlin or Emrys, both were full of meaning and history and neither rather seemed to fit the rather unassuming figure before him.
“Ah, Leon, you haven’t changed a bit,” Adam smiled. He swung his sword up to rest on his shoulder and shifted his weight slightly, looking even less of a threat than before, sharpened steel or no.
The behemoth mimicked his posture and offered only the slightest quirk of his lips. “You have, friend, if you are calling out challenges to strangers in dark alleyways,” he replied.
Adam waved off the implication. “That’s just MacLeod, you know how high and mighty the Scots can be,” he explained.
Duncan glared at his supposed friend, but Leon’s lips quirked slightly more and the palpable tension that had been growing between them seemed to fade. “That means you can let me go now,” Emrys huffed. Leon complied and the smaller man righted his jacket and rolled his eyes. “Like any of you lot are truly a threat to me,” he muttered in annoyance.
While Duncan tried to puzzle that one out, Leon and Adam sheathed their blades and Adam offered, “Enough of a threat that you keep your bodyguard around though.”
Emrys looked like he wanted to roll his eyes again as he stepped closer to greet Adam right and proper. He also looked like he wanted to stick out his tongue, but that could just be because he looked so very young with not a hint of stubble and was all gangly limbs as he lopped over, his guard dog following more sedately behind him.
Duncan finally sheathed his own sword at the three pointed looks he received, and listened as Emrys shrugged and explained, “We’re after the same goal, so we tend to stick together. Every few decades he gets tired of me, gets into a mess, and we meet up again in time for me to save his knightly arse - you know how it is.”
Leon sighed the sigh of the long suffering. “I get into a mess? What about that incident in Prague? Who saved who from the locked, burning, and dare I mention, enchanted building?”
Emrys snapped his jaw shut at that, much to Adam’s apparent amusement. “He looked like Gwaine. How was I supposed to know he was a warlock?” he mumbled.
“The solid black eyes when he started reciting that incantation should have been a tell,” Leon offered, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. “How was it again that you ended up cuffed to the-?”
“I told you, he looked like Gwaine,” Emrys insisted, cutting him off and turning the most interesting shade of crimson in the pale light filtering in from the street.
“So he hasn’t changed at all then?” Adam asked, looking thoroughly entertained.
Leon shrugged again. “A few more tricks up his sleeves, perhaps, but the same nose for trouble,” he agreed.
Duncan decided the pause in conversation was the perfect time to properly introduce himself. He held out his hand and said, “I’m Duncan MacLeod.”
Emrys glanced down at his hand, and then back up to his face. “Yeah, you said that. Not impressed.” Ignoring Duncan’s blink of incomprehension, he continued, “Met the other MacLeod once - Connor, was it? Liked him. A bit old school, but he took on a sorcerer I was headed for myself and survived and all, so there’s that.”
“He’s my cousin,” Duncan said, not quite sure what to make of the brush off.
Emrys pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side before shaking it. “Hmm, no, don’t see the resemblance. You sure you’re actually cousins, or just foundlings raised by the same clan? Because you Immortals never can be sure, you know. Just dropped off for others to find and raise and then bam! Tragic death and you think you’re all special and need to go play with knives to see who’s the specialist of you all and... I went off again, didn’t I?” he rambled.
Adam nodded while Leon offhandedly explained to Duncan, “He does that some times.”
Duncan felt a little out of his league, at least with some of the familiarity between the three others. He did, however, feel justified in guessing, “So he’s not Immortal then, just knows of us?”
Leon opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the smaller man. “I’m immortal, can’t die and all that, at least not until you-know-who is found and even then I am not sure, but I am not ‘Immortal’ like you lot. Different curse, different rules, yadda, yadda.” He looked rather bored with the whole topic, to be honest. Then again, he also looked a bit ridiculous in his navy blue waistcoat with a bright red scarf wrapped around his neck to ward of the rather negligible chill so Duncan was not sure he could take anything he said with any level of seriousness.
“MacLeod’s confused,” Adam announced, earning another glare for his efforts. “I’d also like to suggest a place other than an abandoned alley to play catch up, if we could? It’s a little exposed for my tastes. Joe would likely let us have the bar as it is after closing time, but he would badger you two with more questions than MacLeod here, so there’s your trade off. What’s your preference?”
Emrys looked to Leon who did what Duncan was beginning to think of as his habitual shrug. “I have a temporary place not far from here, away from prying eyes and all that,” he offered. “Can I assume we should walk instead of...” He trailed off and waved his hand loosely through the air in some gesture Duncan could not guess the meaning of.
Adam nodded for them both though and raised his eyebrows as he added, “It’s probably best to save the parlour tricks until after the explanation.”
Emrys agreed amiably enough and gestured down the way he and Leon had originally came. “This way then,” he said unnecessarily. “Leon will likely want you where he can see you though, just so you know.”
Duncan followed behind the odd man with Adam at his side and Leon only a short distance behind. “You trust them?” he asked, not bothering to lower his voice as the alleyway echoed anyway.
“As much as I trust anyone,” came Adam’s less than reassuring response. He must have seen something in Duncan’s expression as he wrapped a companionable arm around his shoulders and said, “You know how you are always going on about that ridiculous notion of ‘chivalry’ and such? You’re going to love some of the stories these two have to offer.”
He laughed at his own joke and patted his friend on the shoulder before dropping back to converse with Leon in quiet tones that Duncan only partially tried to drown out. He looked up to see where their guide was leading them to find Emrys walking quickly down another darkened alley. The single streetlight on the corner was shattered and the nearest one was too far away to be of any real assistance.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” Emrys called over his shoulder and, for a moment, Duncan could have sworn his eyes shone gold. The seemingly younger man said something in a language that sounded vaguely familiar, yet still foreign to Duncan’s untrained ears, and a ball of light the same colour as the glint in his eyes flew from his hand to the cracked glass, illuminating the area in a glow far more pervasive than any standard light bulb.
“I see he still likes to keep a low profile then,” Adam offered glibly. “And listens to the whole ‘no parlour tricks until after the explanation’ bit as well.”
“Bane of my existence,” Leon sighed almost fondly with a shake of his head. “If I didn’t need him to find Arthur, I would have left him with that blasted sorcerer.”
“No you wouldn’t have,” Adam guessed.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t, especially as Arthur would off me himself if I ever found him,” Leon agreed easily enough. “But it’s nice to dream.”
Adam chuckled at that and followed Duncan into the unnatural light. He did not explain his muttered, “You have to be kidding me,” when Emrys entered the Excalibur hotel and asked for the keys for one Lance Pendragon, but Duncan figured he would get the story soon enough.
“Bane of my existence,” Leon repeated in the same quiet tone.
“Oi, don’t make me take your Quickening away,” Emrys threatened.
Leon looked completely unperturbed. “You’ve been saying that for the last century. If you really knew how you would have used that spell a dozen times over by now,” he pointed out. More to Adam than to Duncan, he added, “This is precisely why a ban on magic was not a completely unwarranted. Sorcerers get far too full of themselves for their own good.”
Duncan tried to sort out the word “magic” and the repeated use of the word “sorcerer” over the past few minutes, and parse that with what he knew of Immortality in general. He really hoped an explanation was forthcoming, for this as well as many other things, including but not limited to why the supposed long suffering duo had chosen a room that came complete with a kitchenette and fireplace, but only held a single bed.
As Leon brushed past him and winked in his direction, he swore he heard him say, “It’s not all bad.”
Explanations. He definitely needed explanations. And possibly a large glass of a single malt aged at least fifteen years.
As if in answer to his unspoken request, Emrys pulled out four tumblers from a drawer Duncan could have sworn was empty, and added a bottle full of soothing amber liquid with the number twenty-five emblazoned on the side. Emrys then poured several fingers’ worth into each glass and passed them around before claiming a bed overflowing with a ridiculous number of pillows for himself.
Adam gulped the contents of his tumbler down with a heartfelt sigh, and motioned for Duncan to do the same. Duncan only hesitated slightly to take a sip of what was offered, not fully certain he could trust this odd duo, but not wanting to pass up a gift like what was set before him. The liquor burned down his throat smooth and pure and he fought the urge to chase after any drops that may have lingered on his lips with his tongue. Instead, he pulled up one of the simple chairs that had been set off to the side and settled in for what he hoped to be an enlightening, if not entertaining, evening.
Leon brought a chair up to the side of the bed and pointedly removed the tumbler from Emrys’ hand, muttering something about tolerance and having none even after all these years. He did not seem to have a similar problem himself though, as he tossed the stolen drink down his gullet and then settled back to nurse the second glass.
Emrys glared at him as shrugged off his coat to reveal a shirt of the same ridiculous blue beneath it. As he threw the garment on the bed, Duncan could have sworn a fifth tumbler appeared, hidden behind the settling folds of cloth. The supposed sorcerer held his finger to his lips with a smile before leaning back against the pillows once more, the oddest pair of leather boots Duncan had ever seen crossed at the ankles and leaving streaks of dirt along the spotless duvet, much to Leon’s apparent consternation if his expression was anything to go by.
“So, Methos says you like chivalry,” Emrys said, a mischievous but thankfully not golden gleam to his eyes. At Duncan’s reluctant nod, his grin grew wide and possibly a little bit frightening as he said, “Oh, you are going to love this.”
End.
Feedback is always welcomed.
This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/362669.html. Current comments