Feb. 8th, 2011

his_ganymede: (I like what I'm seeing)
Hey, slow it down whataya want from me
Whataya want from me
Yeah I'm afraid whataya want from me
Whataya want from me

There might have been a time
When I would give myself away
Oooh once upon a time I didn't give a damn
But now, here we are so whataya want from me
Whataya want from me


He hadn’t understood the intrigues at court at first, hadn’t seen how deadly they were--as deadly as any played in Elizabeth’s, perhaps even moreso. He knew that nothing came for free in this life, knew that the Prince Consort came to his bed for some reason of his own. The Fae were cold. They did not love, not the way mortals loved, or so Kit told himself. When the hand tipped, when the request came and he saw what skills they needed...well, then.

He knew why he’d been spared, did he not?

He was a spy, and a Queen’s Man, and well, enough, he’d serve the Prince’s wife and mother, though the loss he felt at his ejection from Murchaud’s bed left his head spinning.

Another betrayal, the magic they’d worked on him.

‘Twas Will’s arrival that put things in perspective, but it wasn’t love that drove him back to the Elf-Knight’s bed, but vengeance and heartbreak that his love was elsewise. And when he wasn’t, the petty games of love and betrayal seemed to consume them all.

It never occurred to him the part Murchaud played, or what he might be doing or thinking or feeling underneath it all. For what could a Elf-Knight truly feel for a mortal man?

The next betrayal stung more--not that they would send him to Hell, but then forbid to go after his Will, to save his Will. That Murchaud would dare forbid him, anything, as if he had dominion or say over Kit’s life. As if he cared what happened.

Kit didn’t give a damn as he rode away. He certainly wasn’t thinking of his Prince as he walked into Hell.

Just don't give up. I'm workin' it out )

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his_ganymede

May 2011

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