Guarded Love (COMPLETED)

Backroom

That piquant blend of the cheapest mead short of someone rebottling piss, overlaid with top notes of cheese dropped onto a hot griddle overpowered the air. His bodyguard seemed to be drooping at it, but Alistair smiled wider as he approached the backroom of all backrooms. Past the kitchens, beyond the scrap station where they gathered leftovers to be scattered to their handful of livestock, rested what most of the month was the secondary larder, but for one glorious night was his freedom.

"Okay," Alistair banged his hands together to try and warm them before turning back to Reiss, "there are a few rules about entering here."

He watched her thin eyebrow arch, giving the elf a stern Mother possessing a ruler look. "Do not tell me, the first rule is we do not talk about this place."

"Well, you can, but I rather doubt anyone else in the castle will much care." Alistair watched the fire flicker below the door and heard a few voices cry out in joy. He didn't want to seem too antsy to escape inside, but politic matters had already caused him to miss the first hour. For her part, Reiss seemed uneasy about the idea. "No one stands on ceremony in there. Everyone leaves their business at the door and we're only going in to have fun."

"All right," she drug the words out, both eyebrows now folding in the middle.

"So, you can stay out here in the cold with the smell of pig shit in the air as the bodyguard, or head inside as Reiss. It's up to you," he smiled wide parting his hands. In his heart, he prayed she'd say yes if only to have a few minutes where they weren't standing on such unleveled ground.

"I..." her eyes shot open wide as a few male voices shouted in jubilation, before sighing, "I shall join you, your Majesty."

"Alistair," he said, waving a finger in front of her face.

She screwed her eyes up and shook her head, "You. I can deal with you."

"Good enough," Alistair grabbed onto the kerchief dangling out of the hole that used to hold a knob and yanked the wooden door open. "Please, after you."

Reiss eyed him up a minute before stepping inside. They'd overdone themselves this time, the usual table that was covered in farm bric-a-brac was cleared to leave space for a platter overflowing in cheese and shaved sections of meat. Okay, someone left the gelder in the middle but that was pretty much their inside joke now. Two men sat in a glaring death match, their hands clasped together while waiting for the first to blink. Karelle leaned closer to them, a handkerchief waving as she watched, when Philipe's eyes suddenly wandered to the side and scrunched up.

"Aye!" Karelle shouted, "Ghaleb has it."

The Spymaster smiled and released his hold on the kitchen boy before picking up his mug and taking a long sip. "Maker's ballsack," Philipe whined while rubbing across his face, "it's like staring into the sun agains' him."

Reiss stood rooted to the spot, seeming to be in total shock at what lay before her. Trying to not laugh, Alistair leaned closer and whispered, "So, what horrors were you expecting."

"Honestly? Goats in skirts, really frilly ones. And someone eating fish off a naked woman."

That caught Alistair and he gasped out, "Fish?"

Those endless summer eyes rolled back to him and she shrugged, "I've seen it before, though I do my best to forget."

Swallowing down a frog rising in his throat, Alistair called out, "Hey gang, we've got a new addition to the crew. This is Reiss, some of you know her. Karelle, of course."

"No shit," Karelle cursed, letting her normally sort of polite self trail free in the room.

"Ghaleb and Philipe," Alistair continued, not even blinking at Karelle's outburst.