Mordecai Letto
”Of course not,” Mordecai scoffed and almost sounded indignant. How could anyone forget such a thing? Quick to realise his mistake, his frame retreated a little further into the warmth of the coat before he swallowed hard. “...sorry, your highness,” he added feebly. He had little experience being around Important People other than taking their coats when they came to Molly’s to indulge their passions or to lighten the burden of their gold and silver when the opportunity presented itself.
The people he surrounded himself with were simple, direct, cursed or blessed with rough tongues and rough habits. It hadn’t always been like that. Not every memory of his life before he’d come to Stormbreak had slipped through his fingers just yet and he had not yet betrayed all the virtues his parents had attempted to instil in him.
”I can take care of myself,” he answered with a quick bob of his shoulders, quick and easy as breathing. ”I’d say…” he hesitated for a moment, ”I’d say it’s more dangerous for a Queen to be out on her own than someone like me. There’s many more like me than there are of you.”
Easing up a little he regarded Maeve for a moment. Even in the semi-dark of the clear night sky the shock of green in her eyes was arresting. She was young, he realised, younger than he had thought, and only a little taller than himself, but paler too. Perhaps it was a childish notion to think of Kings and Queens as old and wise, he had never given it much thought before.
His musings were rudely interrupted by the swift descent of the dragon. The dust blinded Mordecai for a moment while he stumbled backward, near tripping over his own feet. ”N-nice dragon…easy now…” he stepped back a pace while the acrid smoke tickled the back of his throat. He had no illusion that keeping his outstretched arms between himself and death with wings would do anything to stop Aidon from ripping them off, but he held them out anyway. Every god-given instinct told him to retreat, to turn and run, but he overruled them with sheer determination. The last time he’d turned his back on the maws of death it had taken everything from him, he would not make that mistake again.
Gritting his teeth, he stood his ground. Hot blood rushed through his veins, his legs twitched in a stopped reflex to run. While his world was reduced to a dark tunnel with two foreboding, glowing eyes and sharp teeth at the end of it, he stood his ground until the only thing betraying his fear was the slight quiver in his voice. ”He isn’t hungry, is he?”
The people he surrounded himself with were simple, direct, cursed or blessed with rough tongues and rough habits. It hadn’t always been like that. Not every memory of his life before he’d come to Stormbreak had slipped through his fingers just yet and he had not yet betrayed all the virtues his parents had attempted to instil in him.
”I can take care of myself,” he answered with a quick bob of his shoulders, quick and easy as breathing. ”I’d say…” he hesitated for a moment, ”I’d say it’s more dangerous for a Queen to be out on her own than someone like me. There’s many more like me than there are of you.”
Easing up a little he regarded Maeve for a moment. Even in the semi-dark of the clear night sky the shock of green in her eyes was arresting. She was young, he realised, younger than he had thought, and only a little taller than himself, but paler too. Perhaps it was a childish notion to think of Kings and Queens as old and wise, he had never given it much thought before.
His musings were rudely interrupted by the swift descent of the dragon. The dust blinded Mordecai for a moment while he stumbled backward, near tripping over his own feet. ”N-nice dragon…easy now…” he stepped back a pace while the acrid smoke tickled the back of his throat. He had no illusion that keeping his outstretched arms between himself and death with wings would do anything to stop Aidon from ripping them off, but he held them out anyway. Every god-given instinct told him to retreat, to turn and run, but he overruled them with sheer determination. The last time he’d turned his back on the maws of death it had taken everything from him, he would not make that mistake again.
Gritting his teeth, he stood his ground. Hot blood rushed through his veins, his legs twitched in a stopped reflex to run. While his world was reduced to a dark tunnel with two foreboding, glowing eyes and sharp teeth at the end of it, he stood his ground until the only thing betraying his fear was the slight quiver in his voice. ”He isn’t hungry, is he?”
