sixwordstories | (no subject)

Oh, boo hoo.

Enjoying watching your wife being propositioned in a place full of iron where they did not allow any of her security people in, are you?

*grits his teeth* At least I'm not the one complaining about it.

I'm not complaining nearly as much as deciding if I should take up another man's duty and offer my Queen support should she need or want it rather than spend the night with the woman I wed.

You will because you are the classic example of an ass-kisser. Really, I'm wondering why you didn't marry her instead of the broad you have now. And, I'm wondering how your current broad likes playing second fiddle.

Tell me, does that psychological bullshite ever actually bother anyone? You aren't even half the challenge Auberon was on that level. I shouldn't wonder if you start to bore her soon.

And what you are utterly incapable of understanding is that whether or not I show up to assist her is not a matter of ass-kissing but devotion. Caring for another more than yourself.

Devotion? Or underestimating her.

Your wife is set up to have moments of triumph or failure and you leave her to face it alone with no comfort or companionship. *said in a tone that implies he doesn't know how she finds either in Bobby* But again, beyond you. How does it feel to always be left behind? Or can you not even answer that?

*pulls out that iron knife* Should I show you, little fairy, what it feels like to be left behind?

*hand rests on the hilt of a sword always at his hip* Shame I cannot deliver you back to where you long to be even returned to your wife's embrace. She would survive the pain this time. Forget you entirely in time. As it stands, she would not suffer me harming you, and whatever you wish to call it, I am hers.

*holds the knife tip above the hollow spot in his throat* You're hers, hm?

*he's back a step and the sword is drawn in a rapid, fluid motion that is more reminiscent of a feline than a humanoid* Always. Her man.

*moves his arms so they're straight out to the sides* Go ahead. Run me through. See how long you'll last as hers then.

*sheathes the sword* Unlike you, I have the ability to control my temper. But I've been hers since before she became a queen and I will be hers long after you finally find the way to have what you want more than her. And she has never doubted me.

*goes back to holding Dorian at knifepoint* Right, because you have ice water running through your veins. You make me look like an emotional teenage girl, don't you? You may have been there first chronologically, but you will never be first in any other way. And you know why she never doubts you? Because you are predictable... *he laid the blade against his skin* unsurprising. Co-dependent. Do you even know what it means to live for yourself?

*the skin slowly blackens and blisters under the flat of the knife, anger and agony mixing in his eyes* I am the first one she turns to when she needs help and always will be. She'll never trust you with her weakness. *one of the blades so favored by Unseelie is in his hand and then in Bobby's belly* Because you don't deserve that much of her and never will. *the knife is left and he leaves in the same cold wind that carries Mab away*

*he drops to his knees, hand over the wound in his stomach*

Don't get a night off?

Not tonight, little one.

That's not fair.

Life is rarely fair, young prince.

Yeah, I know.

And your mother is...your mother.

*giggles*

But it's the only job I want.

*smiles*

Makes me a bit of a fool, hmm?

I don't know.

Time will tell out.

*nods*

But working with her is good.

That's good.