April Flowers Prompt #10 - Truth Be Told
Title: Truth Be Told
Author: gilpin25
Rating & Warnings: PG, none
Characters/ Pairing: Cazaril/Betriz
Prompt: #10 Learning
Format & Word Count: fic, 600 words
Summary: Cazaril has planned a quiet meal alone with Betriz, but sharing memories of the past may not be the wisest course of action.
Author’s Notes: One day I’ll write a 100-word drabble here. But not today.
Truth Be Told
The secluded grove was as private as he’d hoped, the food from the saddlebags delicious, and the surprised delight in Betriz’s eyes at all his careful planning a joy to behold. It only remained for him to slip a ready arm around her as he shared an amusing anecdote from the past, for her to lean in to his side and-
“You surely never asked him that!”
Cazaril's free hand, which had been harbouring thoughts of reaching out for the last of the apple nut tarts (he must give his compliments to the cook; both for secrecy and imagination), hesitated in mid-air. The ground under the soft cushions and blanket appeared to be shifting beneath him.
He endeavoured to sound perfectly reasonable. “I was merely thinking of the best source of protection for you at the time.”
“By suggesting I become the future Marchess dy Palliar?” The way the title was uttered, between what looked like rapidly thinning lips, was not exactly flattering to the March.
“Palli is a brave and honourable friend.” Five gods, even the heat of the evening seemed suddenly to have cooled. This was supposed to amuse her, after all. “And -- and a most excellent horseman,” he added lamely.
“Which would have consoled me greatly over the years, I’m sure.” Betriz sat bolt upright and fixed him with a disbelieving stare. “Caz! What if he had agreed?”
What if I hadn’t come back? But he couldn’t utter those words because he was so very happy that he had. That he’d come back in several ways in fact, including the most unexpected by far.
He softened his voice. “There is no one else I would have trusted more, if it had come to that. Palli has often been my right hand man.”
“Clearly it counted for very little with you that I wished only for the hand of the right man.”
“Well, I-“ He stopped, considering the inconceivable. As it was now and had been then, although he’d forced himself to think otherwise.
Dare he risk the absolute truth?
“I would have rejoiced in knowing your future would be secure with one of the finest men I know,” he said carefully, holding her eyes with his. Willing her to understand. “And…I’d have wanted to kill him.”
A pause. Then Betriz slowly nodded, catching her lower lip in her teeth. Cazaril let out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding and marvelled anew at the beauty of the face before him.
He put out both arms and she came to him at once, folding once more in to his side with her hair brushing against his cheek. Cazaril breathed in her warm perfume and silently reminded himself not to leave his brains in his backside.
The poetry could be blamed partly on fever but he’d hate her to think she was betrothed to a thoughtless, tactless fool.
He was just beginning to think of that remaining nut tart still going to waste when Betriz let out a cross between a snort and a giggle against his chest. He turned her face gently up to his with a questioning smile.
“If we’re reminiscing,” his beloved said, eyes now shining brightly again with merriment, “you’ve never told me how useful you found that hat I gave you.”
Author: gilpin25
Rating & Warnings: PG, none
Characters/ Pairing: Cazaril/Betriz
Prompt: #10 Learning
Format & Word Count: fic, 600 words
Summary: Cazaril has planned a quiet meal alone with Betriz, but sharing memories of the past may not be the wisest course of action.
Author’s Notes: One day I’ll write a 100-word drabble here. But not today.
Truth Be Told
The secluded grove was as private as he’d hoped, the food from the saddlebags delicious, and the surprised delight in Betriz’s eyes at all his careful planning a joy to behold. It only remained for him to slip a ready arm around her as he shared an amusing anecdote from the past, for her to lean in to his side and-
“You surely never asked him that!”
Cazaril's free hand, which had been harbouring thoughts of reaching out for the last of the apple nut tarts (he must give his compliments to the cook; both for secrecy and imagination), hesitated in mid-air. The ground under the soft cushions and blanket appeared to be shifting beneath him.
He endeavoured to sound perfectly reasonable. “I was merely thinking of the best source of protection for you at the time.”
“By suggesting I become the future Marchess dy Palliar?” The way the title was uttered, between what looked like rapidly thinning lips, was not exactly flattering to the March.
“Palli is a brave and honourable friend.” Five gods, even the heat of the evening seemed suddenly to have cooled. This was supposed to amuse her, after all. “And -- and a most excellent horseman,” he added lamely.
“Which would have consoled me greatly over the years, I’m sure.” Betriz sat bolt upright and fixed him with a disbelieving stare. “Caz! What if he had agreed?”
What if I hadn’t come back? But he couldn’t utter those words because he was so very happy that he had. That he’d come back in several ways in fact, including the most unexpected by far.
He softened his voice. “There is no one else I would have trusted more, if it had come to that. Palli has often been my right hand man.”
“Clearly it counted for very little with you that I wished only for the hand of the right man.”
“Well, I-“ He stopped, considering the inconceivable. As it was now and had been then, although he’d forced himself to think otherwise.
Dare he risk the absolute truth?
“I would have rejoiced in knowing your future would be secure with one of the finest men I know,” he said carefully, holding her eyes with his. Willing her to understand. “And…I’d have wanted to kill him.”
A pause. Then Betriz slowly nodded, catching her lower lip in her teeth. Cazaril let out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding and marvelled anew at the beauty of the face before him.
He put out both arms and she came to him at once, folding once more in to his side with her hair brushing against his cheek. Cazaril breathed in her warm perfume and silently reminded himself not to leave his brains in his backside.
The poetry could be blamed partly on fever but he’d hate her to think she was betrothed to a thoughtless, tactless fool.
He was just beginning to think of that remaining nut tart still going to waste when Betriz let out a cross between a snort and a giggle against his chest. He turned her face gently up to his with a questioning smile.
“If we’re reminiscing,” his beloved said, eyes now shining brightly again with merriment, “you’ve never told me how useful you found that hat I gave you.”