Snippet #2693123

Loras was beginning to think that he had a type--large, hairy, brutish, and warm. When he was younger, all blonde hair and big blue eyes, there had been a man who had come to his doorstep that fit every one of those categories. Of course, he’d followed him around like a duckling would its mother until he left. Perhaps he had not recognized it as such then, and it was not to say that women were not beautiful to him as well. It seemed to be merely a preference. However, he had never thought that this would be a recurring thing.

And yet, there he was, wishing that he could memorize the callouses on Ulfric Bjornson’s hand. The king of Ostwall, Loras, he thought ruefully. He sure knew how to pick them. And yet... There might still be hope. He was a little shaken by his speaking with his father. He always had known that he was the lesser liked child, the one seen as less crafty and more easily used. But he had never once begrudged Ris’ place. It seemed that they were both pulling away from their father’s desires, though, and mentally, for a moment, he prayed for luck to the both of them. He couldn’t get Christoph’s words from his mind, though. Men change their mind, and their affections are fleeting. He knew that was not true of himself--it was one of the things that he and his little sister shared. They loved with their whole being, consistent and true. But... could it be true of Ulfric?

No, he told himself. He would not let himself doubt this man, this man with beautiful eyes and a weathered face and a smile that made his heart feel as if it had been warmed for eternity. A soft strain of music filled the air, and he was taken from his thoughts as he leaned against a wall, glancing towards Ulfric’s daughter, who was playing on a lute. A soft little smile touched his lips. Ris had gone by then, and he mentally wished her safety and contentment. Then, Ulfric’s voice reached his ears, and he let his eyes shut for a moment as he merely... listened. If he could not have the man, he could memorize what he could about him. His intonation, the sound of his laugh...

Then, he heard a chair gently scrape against the stone floor, and he opened his eyes once more just in time to see Ulfric rise. His brow furrowed in slight confusion for a moment. Where was he going? Ulfric started out, and Loras had to force himself not to instantly follow. But then... Then, those jade eyes met his own, and he received that message loud and clear. He waited a little longer, before allowing himself to finally go after him. He went up the stone stairs, up to where the people of Ostwall were living in that moment. He hesitated for a moment, hoping that he was doing this right, that he hadn’t merely terrified the man by holding his hand. But he had wanted him to come, Loras encouraged himself. He was going to be alright. All of this would be alright.

“Ulfric?” He called gently, his voice pitched so as to not reverberate off the walls. He hoped that no one would come up and interrupt them. Please, let no one come up and interrupt them. He knocked on the door, once, twice, three times. Then, he returned his hands to his sides for a moment, soon knotting them together in front of him. He could be patient, he told himself. He was good at being patient.

Probably.