Tag: amazing

zedalpha:

writing-prompt-s:

A love story where the two protagonists just refuse to fall for each other even though the plot keeps pushing for it.

As Sergio saw Cate across the crowded ballroom, their eyes met for just one moment, one shining moment where time stood still and–

“Ugh,” grumbled Sergio, “Not this shit again.” The dashing Castilian swordsman nabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray held by a servant, downed it in one swig, and grabbed another in one fluid motion. An instant later, he chugged a third.

On the other end of the ballroom, Cate ground her teeth. All this month, she’d run into this one Spanish duelist over and over again in a number of increasingly contrived seeming coincidences. So far, she’d not been the least impressed by his lithe, muscular build or his silky-smooth Iberian accent; likewise, he wasn’t at all enraptured by her smoky, come-hither eyes or her hair, which cascaded down her back in fiery red tress–

“Oh, please, by all the saints, shut up!” snapped Cate, startling a nearby baron and his courtesan. The portly nobleman loomed affronted for a moment before Cate demurely curtseyed and said, “Apologies, monsieur, but the Narrator, he…”

She was unsure of how to finish the sentence. The baron, however, seemed to understand. “Think nothing of it, madame,” he said, smirking, “Last week I had to deal with a pack of rowdy Musketeers, a smuggler, and a handsome Scotsman. I understand how he can be.”

The ungrateful, ugly pig of a baron went back to his booze and his strumpet, wallowing in the indulgence that an oppressed populace had squeezed from the–

“What?!” exclaimed Sergio, somewhat offended, “Don’t take your feelings out on the Baron le Croix! He’s a fair man, by all accounts, and a quite generous ruler, at that. Just because I haven’t bedded that English girl–”

All at once, his thoughts returned to that rainy night at the Chateaux, sheltered under an awning in the rose garden, her sodden garments clinging to her heaving bos–

“No! They are surely not returning to that awful, damp, evening!” snapped Sergio at the air. Cate had somehow managed to be pushed, by the strange Brownian motion of parties, next to Sergio. She seemed to remember the indignities of huddling together during a thunderstorm and flushed. Sergio coughed nervously and averted his eyes. His gorgeous, dark eye–

“It’s not going to happen,” muttered Cate, into her third glass of champagne, “So stop pushing for it.”

Look, this is supposed to be a love story. I have one job to do in this lousy tale, it’s stupid, but I’m going to do it. Okay? Now can we all just get with the program and fall in love with each other?

“No!“ exclaimed both star-crossed unlovers. Sergio immediately slapped his forehead. “By God, this is intolerable,” he said, “I beg your pardon, milady, but I’m simply not interested.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I assure you, sir,” said Cate, giving him a flatly sympathetic look, “I’m betrothed already, anyway.”

“Oh? To whom?”

To an evil, vain, awful textile merchant who’ll treat her like prop–

“To a kind, intelligent man with good business sense,” said Cate through gritted teeth. “Harry does obsess over his hair, but…honestly I think that’s rather cute. My parents arranged the marriage when our estate’s finances fell through. We’ve gotten to know each other since, and I believe we both find it a rather agreeable pairing.”

“Ah! Well, then, best of luck to you,” said Sergio, relieved.

This isn’t right. This isn’t fair. All hard work trying to get you two to fall in love: the shipwreck, the highwaymen, the rival suitors–

“Yes, because that’s the best way to kindle love: repeated physical and psychological trauma,” snarked Sergio, around a mouthful of hors d’ouvres.

Quiet, you. This is my best shot at being promoted out of trashy romance stories–

“Trashy!?” exclaimed Cate, offended.

Sorry, sorry, not….trashy, per se, more….popularly acceptable–

“I’m not trashy…”

Oh Lord, this is going nowhere. Look, whatever, you two, go off to your boring, humdrum lives doing whatever it is you were before I tried to inject a little passion into your meaningless existence, alright? I don’t care anymore. I give up. I’m gonna go make two new protagonists. Maybe these ones won’t whine so much.

“Is he gone?”

“I hope so, we’re almost out of champagne.”