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elfwannabeTitle: Of Lilies and Roses
Fandom: A Knight's Tale/A Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire Takes place in![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_rpg
Characters/Pairings: Geoffrey Chaucer, Arya Stark
Summary: It's harder to hide things from writers than you would think.
Arya had no intention of telling her “father” that she was continuing her sword lessons. She wasn’t sure he would approve and she couldn’t risk him blabbing to that drone that was supposed to be her mother. It wouldn’t be hard to hide it from him, drunken simpleton that he was. Or so she thought.
It caught her by surprise one evening when she found Chaucer waiting for her in the kitchen, scribbling out one of his poems to pass the time. She quickly hid the sword behind her back and assumed her most innocent expression.
“Going out, Arya?” He spoke casually, barely looking up from what he was writing.
“Maybe. Why?”
“I’m supposed to look after you, my little rose.”
Arya scoffed. “I’m not a rose.”
“Of course you are.” He finally looked up, leaning back and propping his feet up on the kitchen table. “An interesting flower, the rose. Unsurpassed in beauty- a bit of the divine brought down to Earth. But those thorns- dreadful things. A man could cut himself to ribbons on them.” He raised a finger to his lips in mock contemplation. “That’s why they’re there, to protect that little piece of heaven. Every rose needs its thorns, my girl.”
She stared at him, alarmed. He knew. How long had he known? “I have to go.” She began to walk to the door, intent on avoiding further discussion of the topic.
“Fight well, my lady, and return victorious.”
Maybe he wasn’t as much of an idiot as she thought.
Fandom: A Knight's Tale/A Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire Takes place in
mayfield_rpgCharacters/Pairings: Geoffrey Chaucer, Arya Stark
Summary: It's harder to hide things from writers than you would think.
Arya had no intention of telling her “father” that she was continuing her sword lessons. She wasn’t sure he would approve and she couldn’t risk him blabbing to that drone that was supposed to be her mother. It wouldn’t be hard to hide it from him, drunken simpleton that he was. Or so she thought.
It caught her by surprise one evening when she found Chaucer waiting for her in the kitchen, scribbling out one of his poems to pass the time. She quickly hid the sword behind her back and assumed her most innocent expression.
“Going out, Arya?” He spoke casually, barely looking up from what he was writing.
“Maybe. Why?”
“I’m supposed to look after you, my little rose.”
Arya scoffed. “I’m not a rose.”
“Of course you are.” He finally looked up, leaning back and propping his feet up on the kitchen table. “An interesting flower, the rose. Unsurpassed in beauty- a bit of the divine brought down to Earth. But those thorns- dreadful things. A man could cut himself to ribbons on them.” He raised a finger to his lips in mock contemplation. “That’s why they’re there, to protect that little piece of heaven. Every rose needs its thorns, my girl.”
She stared at him, alarmed. He knew. How long had he known? “I have to go.” She began to walk to the door, intent on avoiding further discussion of the topic.
“Fight well, my lady, and return victorious.”
Maybe he wasn’t as much of an idiot as she thought.