Spending the Knight

It’s a shock, to see Morgan’s sleeping face.

The queen may not emote much, but that doesn’t mean her face is normally relaxed. It’s blank, which is different- while Mash doubts Morgan thinks much about it, it takes active effort to repress one’s facial expressions.

This is not the case now. Morgan’s face looks… soft. There is none of the dignity of a queen, none of the harshness of winter, none of her cold demeanor. Just an ordinary woman, sleeping. At peace.

Mash allows herself five seconds to admire the sight. She has never looked more like Tonelico than right now; without either of their habitual masks, the two truly are the same person.

Then Mash turns back to the question at hand, namely:

Why is Morgan in her bed??

She rakes her brain, pressing her fingers against her temples. Try as she might, she can not for the life of her remember what happened last night. There was this party, and this really good virgin margarita, and…

Argh. Curse her weakness for non-alcoholic drinks. If only her poison immunity also worked against placebo effects…

Okay. Okay okay okay. One thing at  the time. Right now she should… probably get out of bed.

She’s as silent as she can possibly be. Unfortunately, Tonelico had always been a light sleeper- a lifetime on the run will do that to you- and that fact apparently extends to Morgan. The second Mash sits up, the mattress shifts, and that is enough to stir Morgan awake. The woman groans, turns to her side, then blinks up at Mash with glazed eyes. “You are up early.”

“Ah- yes. I, uh, usually get up at this hour.” God above. Morgan is beautiful like this, hair down, half-asleep. Vulnerable. Trusting. Mash’s heart is doing somersaults in her chest. “Erm, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but… why are you here?”

Morgan blinks. “Do you not remember?”

“Noooo…?” Mash really, really hopes that she hasn’t done anything embarrassing.

Morgan rises up on an elbow. People often compare king Arthur to a lion. Mash has always thought Morgan more similar to a tiger- just as noble, just as ferocious, if less of a team player. The comparison still stands; there is something definitely feline in the way Morgan moves, too sleepy to have all her guards back up. This is the absolute worst moment to be horny, but Mash’s hormones don’t seem to care.

“You and the other knights of the Rounds got rowdy last night.” Rounds, plural, meaning both fairy knights and human knights must have participated in the chaos. Mash winces. She should apologize to the kitchen staff on everyone’s behalf. “When you got tired, you requested I accompany you to your room, and I obliged. As I was getting drowsy myself, I decided to spend the night here.”

Ah. Aaah, that makes a lot of sense. Mash’s room is far from the dining room; it must have been much quieter here than anywhere else. Still, she has to ask: “Did I do anything, uhm… uncouth?”

“You have done nothing that could bring shame to your title of knight.”

Alright. Okay. Morgan gives a lot of importance to official titles. If she words it this way, that means Mash can’t have done anything too bad.

“Got it. Thank you.” Mash nods to herself. Then, after a short pause: “you can stay here, if you want? I didn’t mean to cut your sleep short.”

Morgan nods as well. “My thanks.” She closes her eyes and sets her head back on the pillow. The image is more precious than anything Mash has ever seen before. She hopes it will stay carved in her heart forever.

For now though, she should head out, or she she will do something uncouth now. She slips out of bed- only to discover with surprise that her legs feel quite weak. A quick glance down tells her that they are covered in bruises, peeking out from under her sleeping shorts. “Did I get into a fight?”

“Mmh?”

“My thighs are covered in bruises.” She clarifies.

“Ah.” Morgan rolls to the other side, turning her back to Mash. Her voice is slow and quiet; she’s soon to fall back asleep. “No, these would be from us having sex last night.”