Untouched Tea
(a short, unedited drabble.)
There was a constant throbbing in her head as theheadache began to intensify. These past few days have been tumultuous, and hermaids kept pestering her about stress and wrinkles and honestly, it was theleast of her worries.
She paced back and forth, holding the piece of paper in her hand, crumpled it, and then spreading it out once again to see if the contents were not of her own imaginings. She sighed once again as she read the words. At last she had decided to throw the wretched thing to the fire.
It satisfied her, watching it slowly turn to ashes. After its existence disappeared from her sight, she sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. The smell of the hot liquid soothed her aching head, forgetting for a short while, the problems abundantly given to her by her own men. Those incompetent fools! Couldn’t they function for a few days without her guidance?
A hundred crates of her most precious product were lost to a ship of run-down, rhum drunk pirates. 100 was but a small number, but added to the stress and the atmosphere of the capital, her reaction had been none too pleasing.
Now the shipment was compromised and she would get nothing of it. It was a bad day for business.
The raven that brought her the letter most probably came from across the Narrow Sea. Her men now lay waiting in a port, too afraid to face her wrath
When I get my hands on those fools…!
There was a knock on the door that interrupted her violent thoughts, which have now reached to visions of flaying men and burning their private parts.
“Enter,” she said, her voice commanding.
The door slowly creaked open to reveal half a head of blue hair and curious red eyes. He was, at first, hesitant to proceed but the sight of Hannah’s connecting brows made him a bit worried.
Hannah’s expression softened as she saw him enter and close the door behind them. She wanted to pounce on the man that very instant, but composed herself and acted like a lady should. Ahh, fuck being a lady. She was on her feet before Shiro could blink and found her hands clinging to his collar. He gulped.
“Where were you, Snow?!” She had tried to act intimidating, but her voice faltered upon the S word. That damn word.
Shiro’s eyes glanced at her angry expression and then to the untouched cup of tea on the table. A sudden realization hit him, for untouched tea was always a no in the presence of Hannah Tyrell.
He held her clenched fists in his, ignoring the fact that she was almost suffocating him and gave her a reassuring smile. Though he was a bit worried for his throat.
“Calm down,” he told her nervously. She loosened her grip and took a step back.
The night breeze had been cool, and the room had been filled in an orange glow from the lighted fire.
“I will not calm down!”
Shiro jerked backwards at the reaction he was most familiar with. In times of stress, Hannah Tyrell would become a violent creature and taming her was a feat no man could ever possibly accomplish. All except some. A special exception.
“How will I be able to calm down, when I’m surrounded with such bloody incompetence?! I will not have my reputation tarnished by men who cannot do such a simple task as delivering things! Even ravens could do a better job! Damn it, Snow! Say something! No, shut up, I don’t want to hear anything right now! Guuuuh!”
In the middle of her tantrum she had once again found herself clinging to his collar. Exasperated, she laid her head in his chest to hide the redness of her face. There she was again, acting all unlady like. She could care less what others would think of her. But she was always so uncommonly conscious with him. Pathetic, she thought.
But he could care less whether she was throwing a tantrum or in the midst of suffocating him. Something must have happened to her shipment, he guessed. But it wasn’t the first time. It also wasn’t the first time she called for him when things like this happened. And it wasn’t the first time he held her in his arms to comfort her, even though he had no right to. But he had every right, and no one else ever should see her like this. In her state of vulnerability that she keeps hidden from the world, something he knew nobles had a talent in. She was a wild thing, he knew. She was his wild thing.
He led her to the table and grabbed the untouched cup of tea. He blew on it before he raised it to her lips. Hannah took one big long gulp, immune to the hotness of the liquid and its deadly effects on the human body.
“More.” She ordered him, hiding a blush from forming on her cheeks.
He poured her another cup full and blew on it. This time she grabbed it and drank it like it was rhum. Shiro could only look at her amazed and shocked, but he laughed it off nervously. Was this woman even human?
It was one of those rare moments when he was just Shiro and she was just Hannah. He was not a bastard and she was not a noble. She was his, and he was hers, and it was unspoken, but it was established. It was an odd relationship.
He poured another cup.
He shyly took her hand in his, soothing her with his touch.
“More,” Hannah said, and Shiro shifted his position to wrap an arm around her and settle her next to him.
She was a wild thing.
She was his wild thing.
“More,” she demanded, barely a whisper.
Soon her arms were around him, trapping him as their lips met.
And the tea lay on the table forgotten.