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rather-impertinent · 5 years

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Impatience

A/N: some future fluff for any Thursday blues 💞 (how is it only Thursday?! The week is dragging so much. I need it to be Sunday more than I need oxygen!) Enjoy friends xo

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“Good morning, my love,” Dwight greeted Caroline as she entered his study just before ten o’clock.

“‘Good morning, my love’,” Caroline mocked, in a voice that sounded nothing like Dwight’s. Dr Enys frowned at her mockery. “It is not a good morning, though, is it?”

Dwight’s frowned deepened. “Why ever not?” he wondered. The sun shone fiercely outside, he did not have to be at Sawle until midday and it was Friday, which meant that Caroline would have scones for breakfast - her favourite. Had he forgotten something?

Caroline scoffed in frustration, as though he should already know why. “Have you any notion how long it took me to get out of bed this morning, hm?” She pressed her hands to the aching small of her back.

“Are you tired?” he asked gently, sympathetically. Caroline had been very tired of late as her time grew nearer and she had also had difficulty sleeping.

“Of course I’m tired!” she snapped. “I am growing a person! A rude person who kicks my ribcage in the middle of the night! And who has no regard for my back and will not cease growing! I want it out, Dwight, today,” she huffed impatiently, stamping a foot. “Is there nothing you can give me to arrange such a thing? There must be something. But of course you shall not give it to I because I am not one of your precious patients and so my trials are not as important to you,” Dwight opened his mouth to protest the absurdity of her claim but Caroline was not finished her frustrated rant, “Thank you very much for desk coupling, Dr Enys!” she scathingly concluded, slamming the study door shut as she exited in a full tantrum.

Dwight stared at the closed door with a mixture of utter confusion and slight bemusement; he fought the overwhelming desire to laugh. But laugh he could not, for if Caroline was still on the other side of the door, she would place him into her bad books for “mocking her trials” and only the Lord knew how long it might take for her to cross his name off the naughty list.

With a quiet chuckle and a shake of the head, Dr Enys returned to his reading material and picked up his quill to make notes on the manifestations of psychosis.

Frowning in deep concentration as he annotated his book, his mind racing at a mile a minute, Dwight’s ears suddenly pricked at the sound of clicking heels. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, which informed him it was now half-past ten.

Tap, tap.

Dwight could not fight a snickering smile at the sound as he recognised the reluctant knock. “Come in,” he called, amusement colouring his tone.

The door slowly opened and Caroline appeared from behind it and closed it. She and Dwight stared at each other for a moment and Caroline rocked on her heels. “It’s possible I may have overreacted,” she conceded, dipping her foot in a stream of sunlight on the wooden floor.

Dwight chuckled, slightly pushed his chair back from his desk and held out his hand, beckoning Caroline over.

Pleased at having been so easily forgiven for her tirade, Caroline practically skipped over and carefully sat down on her husband’s lap. She felt his arm snake around her waist to hold her in place.

Dwight immediately pressed a soft kiss against her lips, which were sticky and tasted vaguely of plum preserve. So, she had eaten her scones and was feeling better. “I’m sorry you are feeling uncomfortable, my love,” Dwight murmured. “If there is anything practical I can do to help relieve it then let me know.” Practical as in not giving her a draught of ergot to facilitate early labour.

“I will,” she promised, her eyes soft; she reflected that she was lucky to have a husband who cared, for many women did not have that luxury and were simply a man’s chattel. Caroline loosely tied Dwight’s unknotted neckcloth into a pretty bow. She then comfortably wrapped her arms around his neck. “Dr Enys,” Caroline began, “I have been thinking.”

“Hmm?” Dwight wondered, absently drawing circles on her back.

A wry smile tugged on the corner’s of her mouth. “One day I think we should tell the child how they came to be,” she half-joked as she motioned to the desk.

A laugh erupted from Dwight’s chest and bounced off the walls of his study. “Are you mad? Why?”

“It appeals to me,” Caroline said with a smile, as though all things which appealed to her should automatically be given.

Dwight looked up at her, mirth dancing in his blue eyes. “Why so?”

Her mouth stretched into an amused grin. “It would be funny,” was Caroline’s only answer, which was punctuated with a casual shrug of her slender shoulders.

“So humour is justification for mortifying one’s child for life?” Dr Enys wondered, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Precisely, I knew you’d understand.”

Dwight laughed heartily but then sobered slightly as an observation about the time of day dawned on him. “Have you gone for your morning walk today?” he asked, narrowing his blue eyes at her.

Caroline avoided his gaze and drew lovehearts on the spotlessly clean desk for a moment. She then turned to look at her husband wearing a petulant pout and her best doe eyes. “I don’t want to,” she whined quietly. “My back aches and my feet ache, can we not skip the walk today?”

A firm shake of the head gave Caroline her answer; her sweet doe eyes and pretty pout no match for Dr Enys’ concerns for her wellbeing. “No, we cannot. It is important to get a little light exercise every day, it helps to keep you strong,” he patiently explained for the tenth time this month. “And you need to be strong,” Dwight said more softly, smoothing his hand over her swell.

Caroline shot him a sympathetic look; it seemed the closer her time came, the more concerned Dwight became. He was worried and excited in equal measure, and he had been very excited from the moment she told him she was with child. Of course Caroline knew that childbirth was precarious, everyone knew that, but she could not say that she was afraid - for she knew Dwight would be by her side, and would see them through. “Alright,” Caroline placated, reassuringly rubbing his chest. She then sighed and leaned forward. “Well?” she asked with her fair eyebrows raised at her husband, “Give your rotund wife a push so that she may stagger to her feet like a drunkard,” Dwight laughed at this, “and then pray escort her to see the swans,” Caroline cheerfully commanded, a light smirk on her face.

Obeying her orders, Dwight gently shoved Caroline with one hand on the small of her back and held her hand in his other one to steady her. Without too much difficulty, Caroline was on her feet, peeking out of the window and enthused by the cloudy, sunny day which awaited them.

Dwight stood up and shook out his legs to regain the feeling in his numb thighs; he then looked across the room and whistled. “Horace, come boy,” he beckoned, tapping the desk with his palm.

Horace sighed heavily and trudged his way across the room, pausing twice to control his laboured breathing.

“Why have you summoned him?” Caroline asked with a quiet laugh of disbelief. “You know he will not walk.” Her eyebrow was arched and her lips pursed into a smile.

“I had hoped he might like to chase the swans; he could use some exercise,” Dwight pointed out as the pug wheezed and grunted miserably at their feet.

Caroline laughed musically. “He barely chases treats anymore, Dr Enys. We both know that he shall join us, walk perhaps five steps and then proceed to lie down on the grass and refuse to move unless carried, yes?”

A sigh escaped Dwight’s lips. “I suppose you’re right,” he conceded, narrowing his eyes at the family pet, who frowned up at the doctor with wide puppy-eyes. They stared each other down for a moment; Caroline schooled a smile, knowing full well how this showdown would end. “Oh, dammit, fine,” Dwight caved with a heavy sigh, bending to pick up the obese pug from the floor; Horace stuck his tongue out in smiling victory.

Caroline scrunched her nose at Horace and smiled as she reached over and scratched his ears fondly. “I thought dogs did not to be carried, Dr Enys?” Caroline quipped.

The doctor scratched under Horace’s chin. “They are not,” he confirmed. “But when one’s dog will not walk unless carried first then what choice does one have?” Dwight and Caroline shared a chuckle.

“It is quite the conundrum,” Caroline conceded, her tone only slightly mocking, “But thankfully I know of doctor with a brilliant mind who should have no trouble solving such an issue,” she smiled softly at him and Dwight returned a bashful smile. “Shall I write to him and ask his opinion?” she then teased.

Dwight shook his head, laughing quietly. “You are unbelievable.”

“You love me,” Caroline said in a confident sing-song voice.

Placing his hand on her shoulder, Dwight leaned in and kissed her; her lips were still sticky and he found it oddly endearing. “I do,” he confirmed. “Very much so.”

Horace barked impatiently and wriggled under Dwight’s arm. The doctor struggled trying to keep him aloft. “Horace!” he hotly reprimanded. “Alright, enough, we are going!” Dwight informed the pug, who seemed to be appeased by this information.

Caroline, too, was glad to finally be going, having already envisioned the warm sun on her face, the smell of the grass, the wispy soothing breeze, the gliding of the swans; she sighed happily.

“Did you know swans mate for life?” Dwight asked conversationally as he opened the door of his study for them to leave.

Caroline gently rolled her eyes; Dwight’s daily fact firing made her feel dizzy at times. How did he even know these things? It was quite impressive, if a bit exasperating. “You and swans shall not have that in common if you delay my walk a second further, Dr Enys,” Caroline warned, the ghost of a smile on her pink lips.

Dwight grinned at her humour; one of his most favourite of her many endearing qualities. “Understood, my love.” Dwight offered his wife his free arm, the other being preoccupied with holding Horace, and Caroline accepted it.

Feeling momentarily sad that their frequent walks together - which involved Dwight’s undivided attention - would soon end, Caroline leaned into Dwight’s side and laced her fingers through his, deciding she would savour their last few weeks or days alone. As Dwight rubbed his thumb gently against her hand and placed a tender kiss against her temple, Caroline forgot all about her aching feet as they walked out the back door and into the sunshine, chattering animatedly about what the future held for them.

#poldark #poldark fanfic #carolight #horace the pug

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fernthefanciful · 7 years

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Fiction Friday: the Sorceress Royal

“Ada, there is someone coming,” Riva said from where she fluttered in front of the window.

I groaned internally, not wanting to lose my concentration. “The wards will get him,” I told her as I carefully added the crushed bellflower petals to the mixture bubbling in my cauldron. A tuft of purple smoke poured out and onto my worktable. I smiled. This particular spell had taken four hours to prepare, I would not have some hopeful muck it up.

“Ada,” Riva started again, hesitantly, “he's already passed the outer wards. It looks like he's getting ready to climb the tower.”

The purple haze of my spell flickered for a moment as I took that in.

No, focus.

It doesn't matter that he crossed the outer wards, I told myself sternly, nobody has ever made it inside. The spell solidified again as I raised my hands towards it, now as a tiny ball of bright purple light.

“Suza,” I called out, hoping he would listen, “would you be a dear and make sure His Highness doesn't make it up the tower? I can't deal with him right now.” My only answer was the brush of scales against my leg and the giant roar as he tossed himself out of the window. I wasn't expecting the answering roar followed by a growl so deep I could feel it in my bones. My beautiful spell flashed once, then winked out of existence, my attention shot.

I threw my head back and made a sound of pure frustration. “Four. Hours!”

I closed the grimoire still open in my lap and flung it on the table in front of me. The cauldron was still spewing smoke, but the spell had been broken. There was no saving it now. Fuming, I walked out of my cosy, candle-lit workshop and into the midday light of my bedroom. I turned back towards the wardrobe that I'd just walked out of, the portal to my workshop still shimmering within, and closed the door.

It had been a while since someone had tried to 'rescue' me from my tower, I'd almost forgotten what an annoyance it was. The first few years, before I had strengthened the outer wards, the mere sight of Suza's large dragon form was enough to send most princes running. After the wards, well, no one had even dared to get anywhere near 'the Cursed Tower'.

The sounds of battle were different this time, I thought as I listened more carefully. No sound of shield against scales, No outcries in the midst of battle. Just snarls and growls, like two animals fighting.

There was a pained yelp and Suza came tumbling in through the window, his larger form dispersed. The now cat-sized dragon lay in a crumpled heap of blue scales and leathery wings. I quickly made my way to him. “Suza,” I shook him gently, “are you alright?”

He shook himself, wings and all, and nodded. Pressing himself under my hands for a moment in caress before walking over to his pillow and curling up. Transforming took a lot out of him, I knew, he needed his rest.

I stood looking at Suza for a moment, worried, when Riva spoke up. “He's climbing the tower, he'll be here soon.” She turned from the window and flew over to me, gold and green feathers glimmering in the light. “Ada, he might make it. What do we do?”

I had no idea. This was the first time in fourteen years that someone had even come this close to entering my tower. Fourteen years ago I may have wished for rescue, but I was no longer this scared maiden imprisoned by her circumstance. I righted myself and turned to Riva, gesturing for her to come perch on my shoulder. “He still has to make it through the last wards,” I told her as she landed and dug her talons in deep enough to draw blood. The connection zinged through my magic for a moment, making every colour and scent sharper. “But if he does make it, we shall welcome our guest,” I continued, conjuring a ball of bright blue fire over my palm, “and we'll teach him that this princess doesn't need rescuing.”

The next few moments were tense. I'd released the energy needed to keep the blue flames going, no need to spend it when the threat wasn't here yet. But, toadstools, what if he succeeded, I fretted. I had no intention of leaving my studies, I really didn't want to leave my workshop. However, Rhezar the Grand stated that magic worked because of certain Laws. He failed to say what the Laws were, exactly, but he was very clear about one thing: break the Laws and lose some of your power, his books taught me. My father had stated Law when he locked me in this tower. Any who would find their way inside my prison could claim me. But what if I refused? Would breaking non-magic Laws influence my abilities to do magic? How would that even work?

A hand landing on the windowsill cut through my panicked thoughts. My last wards flared up an angry red. The prince let out a pained grunt followed by a low growl, but nothing more. I'd set these wards to their most dangerous. Anything human that wasn't me should suffer from such intense heat that they let go immediately. Although I hadn't exactly had a test subject, I thought as his head and shoulders appeared through the opening. Maybe I didn't attune them right.

The prince dropped through the window, rolled, and sprung to his feet. He wasn't wearing any armour, I noticed. His clothes, well, what was left of it, were still smoking. The man looked around him as if expecting another attack, crouching low in defence. When his green eyes landed on mine he straightened again.

“You are not welcome here,” I told him, trying to keep my voice stern.

“Yeah,” the man answered, his voice rough, “the dragon and the flames kind of gave me that impression.” He scratched the back of his head almost sheepishly, ruffling his black hair. “To be honest,” he continued, taking in my appearance, “this whole endeavour, and you, are nothing like I'd expected.”

I refused to look down to myself. I knew what I looked like. I'd ditched the princess dresses a long time ago. They were just too flammable. Also, I'd spend most of the night preparing for the spell this prince so brazenly interrupted; I was not functioning on a lot of sleep. No doubt I looked very un-princess-like.

Still, rude.

I drew up a little bit of magic to make another ball of blue flames dance above my palm.

His entire demeanour changed at that. He dropped his hands to his sides and loosened his stance, obviously bracing for an attack. Green eyes changed to glowing gold and his teeth grew into long fangs. He growled low in his throat as his face slowly shifted.

“Werewolf,” I whispered, the fire forgotten.

“That would explain why he got through the wards,” I told myself while I started pacing, “they were attuned to humans but according to Fezeraiah the Eldest werewolves are only part human. And the other part is magic, so why wouldn't he be able to just waltz through my carefully constr-”

Someone pointedly cleared their throat right next to me and I looked to see Riva, still perched on my shoulder, gesturing towards my guest with her head.

The werewolf was fully human again, an amused quirk to his lips.

“Right,” I turned back towards him. I tried to remember how my mother used to stand when addressing other Kings and Queens. She'd always looked so haughty and regal, a demanding presence without even opening her mouth. “Sir Wolf, I have no care for your bravery or for the promises my father made you, I have no interest in marriage.”

The prince's eyes bulged. “Marriage?!” He choked out, looking very uncomfortable. “I have a wife and three children.”

“What?” I didn't understand, “So you're not here to rescue me?”

“Lady, from what I've seen -” he gestured down to what was left of his clothing, “you don't need a lot of rescuing.”

I gave him a nod, smiling. “You would be correct.”

“I believe there has been a misunderstanding,” my guest started, bowing deep, “I am Ardal Conrí, Heir to the Crescent Throne.”

I returned his bow. “I am Ada Lockwood, youngest daughter to King Maxwell of the Veridian Isles.”

The werewolf's eyes widened, but he didn't comment. “My father sent me to ask for your assistance, my lady. We are at the brink of war. We need someone to help keep the peace – or stand on our side in battle.”

“And you've come for me?” I asked, still not sure what was going on, “Why?”

“Our own sorcerer breathed his last a few years past. Of old age,” he added hastily at my expression, “we need someone with magic at our side. When news of a powerful sorcerer living in a guarded tower reached our ears, Father sent me. We will pay whatever price you ask. Will you help us?”

“You're asking me to become sorceress to the throne?”

“Yes.”

I could do it. I could leave this tower and see part of the world again. I would be valued for my study of the craft and not because of the family I was born into. A family who had stuck me in a tower they had never know held magic and never looked back. I could practice magic every day and discover new things. But did I dare go out there, into a world I no longer knew anything about? The tower was my prison, yes, but it was also safety. I had Riva and Suza and my workshop, did I really need –.

A thought struck me. “Did your sorcerer have a study? Or a workshop?”

“Of course,” Lord Conrí answered, “filled with books and exotic ingredients. If you agree, it would all be yours.” He finished with a smile.

Miry toadstools, he knew he had me. I still didn't know if leaving the tower without a marriage would break Father's rules and therefore hamper my magic. But to have access to new knowledge, to learn new things. I was already smiling.

“So, what will it be, my lady?” He asked, holding his hand out to me. “Are you a princess, or are you a sorceress?”

I let my eyes flash with a spark of magic and watched his flash gold in return. “Oh,” I answered as I laid my hand in his, “definitely a sorceress.”

#short story #princesses and werewolves oh my!#princess #sorceress #werewolf #tower #from a story idea on Tumblr #which I can't find anymore #it said in fantasy two types of people live in towers #wizards and princesses #I ran with it

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