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marguerite_26Ahahah...
Title: Hello, Mary Sue (Goodbye, Heart)
Summary: Gwaine goes looking for trouble and finds it.
Rating: G
Pairing: Gwaine/Mary Sue [yes, you read that right]
Warning: none
Word Count: 600
Author’s Notes: Evil incarnate (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
faithwood) requested Gwaine/Mary Sue, bondage for her Christmas drabble. >.>
She also likes to wrap her own gifts so, thank you for the beta, faith! <3
Gwaine rounded the corner of the tavern and grinned when he found exactly what he was expecting. He stumbled to the cage hitched to the slave trader’s carriage and peered inside. It was near midnight and the moon shone pale on the girl’s cheeks. She was pretty beneath the layer of grime, her eyes bright and wide, almost violet in the strange light. Yes, Gwaine could see why she’d been snatched. She’d fetch a fair price in the south.
“I’m Gwaine,” he said as though they happened to be seated next to each other at a festival. His eyes were already on the lock. It was narrow and rust, not a problem. “And you are?”
She narrowed her eyes at him and answered in clipped, sharp words: “My name is Mary Sue.”
“Well, Mary Sue, a very fat, very loud man –”
“Olaf,” she spat. Her full bottom lip was split, bleeding, but it didn't tremble as she met Gwaine's eyes.
“Olaf.” Gwaine nodded, smirking at her spirit. He'd expected much worse; he knew what slave traders were capable of. “He was boasting about a fine catch he’d made the next village over. Said you were for sale.”
Her lips pinched and chin rose. Definitely not broken, then. He looked at the debris scattered about the small alley until he found a strong branch. “That there” -- he pointed behind himself with the stick -- “is my horse.”
He wedged the stick to the lock while she watched him with a quiet, pensive sort of regard. Her cheeks were not tear-streaked and her hands were steady as she gripped the bars. Her wrists were bound with heavy manacles but weren’t attached to the cage. They could deal with that later.
“There’s a stream about an hour’s ride east of here. You’ll be able to bathe and we can set up camp. They won’t find us.” Her eyes flared in the moonlight, fierce for a heartbeat, before she fluttered her lashes and tilted her head in a well-practised flirt. Gwaine barked a laugh. He knew trouble when he saw it, though he rarely cared to avoid it.
One firm snap and the lock cracked on the branch.
He winked and bowed, arms spread wide, branch in one hand, broken lock in the other.
She smiled at him, a mouth full of pretty white teeth. In a blink, she leaned back and kicked out her legs, hitting the door to her cage with the flat of her bare feet. It swung out fast, smacking Gwaine in the head and setting him on his arse.
With a clink of chains, she darted from the cage and hoisted herself, wrists still bound, onto Gwaine’s waiting horse.
“Much obliged,” she called out as she kicked the horse into a fast gallop. He watched his favourite horse ride off into the night with Mary Sue tall in the saddle, thick auburn hair dancing in the wind behind her. He might have laughed then had Olaf not walked out of the tavern, three men flanking each side.
One of these days he was going to learn to mind his own business.
Title: Hello, Mary Sue (Goodbye, Heart)
Summary: Gwaine goes looking for trouble and finds it.
Rating: G
Pairing: Gwaine/Mary Sue [yes, you read that right]
Warning: none
Word Count: 600
Author’s Notes: Evil incarnate (
faithwood) requested Gwaine/Mary Sue, bondage for her Christmas drabble. >.> She also likes to wrap her own gifts so, thank you for the beta, faith! <3
Gwaine rounded the corner of the tavern and grinned when he found exactly what he was expecting. He stumbled to the cage hitched to the slave trader’s carriage and peered inside. It was near midnight and the moon shone pale on the girl’s cheeks. She was pretty beneath the layer of grime, her eyes bright and wide, almost violet in the strange light. Yes, Gwaine could see why she’d been snatched. She’d fetch a fair price in the south.
“I’m Gwaine,” he said as though they happened to be seated next to each other at a festival. His eyes were already on the lock. It was narrow and rust, not a problem. “And you are?”
She narrowed her eyes at him and answered in clipped, sharp words: “My name is Mary Sue.”
“Well, Mary Sue, a very fat, very loud man –”
“Olaf,” she spat. Her full bottom lip was split, bleeding, but it didn't tremble as she met Gwaine's eyes.
“Olaf.” Gwaine nodded, smirking at her spirit. He'd expected much worse; he knew what slave traders were capable of. “He was boasting about a fine catch he’d made the next village over. Said you were for sale.”
Her lips pinched and chin rose. Definitely not broken, then. He looked at the debris scattered about the small alley until he found a strong branch. “That there” -- he pointed behind himself with the stick -- “is my horse.”
He wedged the stick to the lock while she watched him with a quiet, pensive sort of regard. Her cheeks were not tear-streaked and her hands were steady as she gripped the bars. Her wrists were bound with heavy manacles but weren’t attached to the cage. They could deal with that later.
“There’s a stream about an hour’s ride east of here. You’ll be able to bathe and we can set up camp. They won’t find us.” Her eyes flared in the moonlight, fierce for a heartbeat, before she fluttered her lashes and tilted her head in a well-practised flirt. Gwaine barked a laugh. He knew trouble when he saw it, though he rarely cared to avoid it.
One firm snap and the lock cracked on the branch.
He winked and bowed, arms spread wide, branch in one hand, broken lock in the other.
She smiled at him, a mouth full of pretty white teeth. In a blink, she leaned back and kicked out her legs, hitting the door to her cage with the flat of her bare feet. It swung out fast, smacking Gwaine in the head and setting him on his arse.
With a clink of chains, she darted from the cage and hoisted herself, wrists still bound, onto Gwaine’s waiting horse.
“Much obliged,” she called out as she kicked the horse into a fast gallop. He watched his favourite horse ride off into the night with Mary Sue tall in the saddle, thick auburn hair dancing in the wind behind her. He might have laughed then had Olaf not walked out of the tavern, three men flanking each side.
One of these days he was going to learn to mind his own business.