A/N: A K/D multichapter.This is a very early fic. I like to think I've improved since then. Please take such into account!
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine, not mine. Satisfied?
The knock on the door came at a most inconvenient time for Sergeant Domitan, better known as Dom. His pen spluttered and he swore. His (already besmattered) reports were less than half-finished. Kelmight well gut him.
Still swearing, but in Scanran now,Dom stomped to the door and opened it. A first-year page stood outside, looking mildly intimidated. "What?" Dom growled.
The first-year looked slightly more intimidated, but recited his message perfectly:
"Lady Knight Keladry says she does not give a stormwing's that it is Midwinter, and that if Sergeant Domitan does not give her those" -the page coughed- "censored, censored, censored reports by ten bells she will personally come up there, gut him and hang him upside down in the palace gardens for his admirers to see."
Dom sat down heavily and groaned. As a perfect punctuation to the end of the page's little speech, the tenth bell rang. He looked up, and discovered the reason for the page's lateness. He was bruised. And battered. His nose was swelling and there was a cut on his cheek. He had a lovely black eye. Dom's eyebrow went up. "You got in a fight."
"No, sir," the page denied, politely but very firmly. "I fell down."
The other eyebrow shot up. "Oh, yes?"
"Yes, sir," the page said, seeming happy at Dom's apparent comprehension. "Down the stairs. Admittedly, they were very long stairs, and I was certainly unlucky in that I didn't see that large patch of spilt oil before I skidded in it, but nevertheless- I fell."
Dom rolled his eyes. "I am so glad I was never a page. You needn't take a return message; the Lady Knight will probably just gut me. I've nowhere near finshed those reports! Let it be a lesson to you- never irritate Lady Kel, because our dear Protector of the Small (she hates being called that, by the way) does horrible things to those who are crass enough to get on her nerves. Shoo."
The page took the silver noble handed to him, and shoo'd.
Dom put his head in his hands. He was dead. Kel would be so cross –she looked terrifyingly beautiful when cross, some traitor part of his mind whispered- that she might just behead him there and then, or get Peachblossom to mash his feet, or make him joust with her (ow, ow, his mind said, recalling horrible bruises) or even set Jump and the sparrows on him. With a sigh, he stood up, picked up the reports, and went to try and placate Kel.