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For the Dancing and the Brawling

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"For the Dancing and the Brawling" is a Season 3 event written on February 13, 2015.

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Blunt had been a very good boy at the wedding. He had smiled while watching the ceremony, clapped as it all became official, and had even been gracious enough to shake the couple’s hands without making them feel uncomfortable. He had shouted a rather loud “Way to go Eights!” when everyone was cheering, but other than that he had indeed been a very good guest.

The rebels began feasting and dancing, enjoying a chance to celebrate once again in face of their hard times. Blunt was about to go find Akkey and perhaps partake in some casual flirting, but then he remembered seeing her vanish into that weird portal. This made him frustrated more than anything else, because after doing his own snooping around he found out that between Akkey and her father those portals were nothing new. Blunt promised himself that he would find means of communicating with her after he slept of the nights…’celebrations.’

Blunt found a group of rebellion girls and jumped right into his usual shenanigans. He flirted and winked and made every effort to make his body language absolutely irresistible. The rebellion girls were tough targets though, they enjoyed flirting back, but gave Blunt zero impression that he was going to get anywhere ‘special’ with them. He leaned on the table, mug in hand as he continued to talk with them. “So this guy was all in my face,” he told them, recounting one of his slightly exaggerated childhood memories. “He was ready to tear me limb from limb, even though he barely came up to my chest.” He laughed, shaking his head as his eyes observed the room. “He was just this puny thing…he was…sort of…” his eyes blinked a few times, focusing on a figure across the room.

Off to the side of the main dancing area, Stonegit had taken a moment to forget himself in the festivities. He danced in small circles, spreading his arms and his feet tapped on the ground, his eyes closing. He was still near the King of course, but in that moment, while the musicians played a lively song to keep the spirits in the room high, Stonegit danced. It wasn’t anything professional or even fancy, it was just a simple, pure movement of enjoyment as Stonegit allowed himself to get swept away in the happy atmosphere around him, forgetting his trouble for that moment.

The conversation died in Blunt’s ears and everyone else in the whole room seemed to darken and blur as the man’s attention was completely stolen by the lone dancing figure across the room. Blunt, hardly knowing what he was doing, began slowly walking forward, pressing his mug into one of the girls hands and moving away from the group, much to their confusion. He got half way across the room and then his feet grinded to a halt. What was he doing? That was his father’s killer! And he was in love with that prick of a King anybody with a brain cell could see that! So why the Hel was he leaving behind that potentially profitable group of young ladies and going over to…him.

Blunt’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head, beginning to whisper under his breath. “Oh but you got a stupid face, and stupid legs, and a stupid little chest, and a stupid scrawny ass, and stupid and stupid eyes that are probably….” His hand reached out, grabbing Stonegit’s wrist and twirling him over. The boy let out a surprised yelp and then hesitated as Blunt squinted at him. “Yep…those stupid eyes are cute.” Blunt thought to himself. “Shit…I can’t believe you.”

Blunt’s foot shot back, slid to the side, and then he turned, spinning Stonegit once before letting go. He danced and twirled around the dance floor, leaping into the air before landing next to Stonegit. The bodyguard stared at him, looking a little weirded out as he slowly looked over at Haddock. But Blunt’s hand seized him again, beginning to glide across the dance floor with him. He led Stonegit easily, and as soon as Stonegit’s realized what was happening, a slow smile came to his face and he began going along with it. Blunt gave a wide grin, picking him up under his arms and spinning in a circle before setting him back down. “You looked lonely,” he called over the music.

“I was just having fun,” Stonegit replied.

“What a coincidence,” Blunt said, swooping forward and French dipping him. “So am I.”

Stonegit fixed him with a death glare.

“Right,” Blunt said, pulling him back up and resuming the fun, not so suggestive dancing.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Stonegit said, as he stumbled clumsily in comparison the Blunt’s expert footwork.

“No worries,” Blunt said, throwing him into the air before catching him easily. Stonegit instinctively grabbed his wrists his eyes wide. Blunt slowly paced around with him for a few easy moments as the music died slightly, and then he set him down, and jumped, twirled, and whirled with him as the music crescendoed suddenly, and then cut off, Blunt ending the dancing with a bow.

Stonegit staggered slightly, and then laughed lightly, bowing as well. “Well that was fun.”

“Perhaps I can give you pri-“

“No.” Stonegit said fLatly and Blunt held up his hands.

“Ok, at least let me buy you a dr-“

“No I can get one for free,” Stonegit said, fixing him with a look.

“Then I shall sit next to you and engage you in non suggestive conversation material,” Blunt said in one breath.

“That’s just fine,” Stonegit said, nodding once.

They walked over to the table together. “Are you sure you’re not single?” Blunt asked. “Because I still think you could use a date.”

“Blunt I would get a girlfriend before I actually took you up one on of your ridiculous pre planned pick up lines.” Stonegit replied.

It was at that moment that for the first time Blunt actually felt like an ass for flirting with somebody he had only recently gotten to know.  

***

Blunt, cheeks rosy from the dancing and the drinking, laughed quietly as he sat next to Stonegit, letting his mug rest on the table. “Oooh boy…I haven’t had this much fun since my twenty second birthday…or this much to drink.”

Stonegit gave just the tiniest hint of a smile as he sipped at his own smaller cup. He was celebrating to be sure, but getting drunk or even tipsy was not an option, especially in his line of work. He and Blunt had been talking for most of the night after the dancing had stopped. Stonegit scratched his head. “Where did you learn to dance?” he asked.

“My dearest mother!” Blunt declared, nodding firmly. “She taught me how to dance and knowledge of the cultures beyond my home. My father, Odin rest his soul, educated me in history and writing and all that other stuff, he was a very wise man. And my grandfather, Odin damn him, taught me how to move quietly and obtain information through the means of stealth.”

Stonegit exhaled as he listened to the tipsy rant. The conversation had been nice, but he worried that the man’s alcohol altered sense of judgment might lead it a stray. He wanted to know what had happened to Blunt’s mother, but perhaps that would be a question better to ask later. He gave a small shrug. “I wish I had learned…”

Blunt snorted. “You know stuff,” he said, thumping his back. “Your parents schooled you didn’t they?”

“Only till I was ten. I learned how to write, and read if the hand writing is simple. But my spelling is poor, and everything else is spotty…or nonexistent.”

Blunt pressed his lips together, not liking that thought. He let his elbows rest on the table. “Whenever you get free time…I’ll teach stuff.”

Stonegit barked a laugh. “Oh I bet you would try.”

“No no!” Blunt said, voice slightly slurred. “I’m in earnests, I won’t try anything funny, just you, and me, in a public room with all the books and papers a man could ask for.”

Stonegit smiled at the offer, but then shrugged. “Eh, I’m well enough without it.”

They lapsed into silence, and Blunt squinted, waving a finger at him. “You know…I think I got you figured out?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah…you are the kind of guy that thrives on affection. You like it when people speak their appreciation for you, and show you physical tokens of gratitude like a hand squeeze or a quick hug, you know…if you really trust them that is.” Blunt told him.

“You make me sound like a needy child,” Stonegit said, putting up a smile despite the small twinge in his heart.

“Hey,” Blunt said flatly. “There ain’t nothing wrong with liking affection.” He sniffed. “It’s a love language thing. There are five of them, verbal, acts, gifts, physical, and quality time. Each person has their own preference on how they prefer affection, you don’t choose it, you were born with it. You like verbal affection, a touch bit more than physical my guess would be. I for one am a lover of physical affection and gift giving.”

“Hmm…” Stonegit said, mulling this information over and not feeling nearly as self conscious now. “Well in that case I have one correction.”

“And that would be?”

“Physical affection is great, I…” Stonegit cleared this throat, ducking his head. “I really like it…But as time goes on, I just don’t think its primary…not compared to verbal and quality time. I mean, I could go all day without so much as a pat on the back.” His eyes glanced over at Haddock momentarily. “But a chance to sit down and really have a nice conversation with someone…that’s just…” he shrugged. “Well the best I guess.” Again he cleared his throat, motioning over to where Haddock was sitting. “Well then, since you are such an expert, what do you suppose Haddock’s love language is?”

“Hm? Him?” Blunt said, pointing and then rubbing his chin. “Probably acts of service, since he has that whole King thing going for him, and verbal, since he has his priiiiiiide game on.”

“Blunt,” Stonegit sighed, but then relented to his point. “You may be on to something there, but try not to be…instigating. The King is sorting out some real hard stuff with his family, just got out of the Warden’s influence, has Hel hanging over his head, and is missing a daughter, he has every good reason to be a bit tight.”

“Hmm…Mmhhmm,” Blunt said, nodding seriously. “Yep, and nothing helps that more than have a whipping boy!” he said, a little too loudly.

The two men’s conversation had been inaudible to Haddock due to all the other noise, but the King was just able to catch that particular sentence and, of course, when he turned his head, he saw Blunt’s stupid face even matching his gaze. Stonegit elbowed Blunt’s arm. “Do not start this! He hissed, I know you’re drunk and I know you are brash but I am not kidding! I will knock you Blunt and Odin help me you know I will!”

“No I totally get it!” Blunt said, patting Stonegit’s arm, not breaking his gaze from Haddock’s. “I knew a guy who treated his closest lackey like shit whenever he got twist in his knickers. It did wonders for his shining personality!”

The king had seemed more than slightly tense the entire evening, keeping his children close to his side but staring more into his drink than participating in any of the festivities. He had carefully avoided Mera the entire evening, standing out alone. When he heard Blunt’s comment, he became even more stiff, his face turning to temperamental flame. He quietly told Egil and Signy to stay put and then stepped boldly over to Blunt. He growled, very, very coldly, hand resting on the hilt of his sword and face leaning in dangerously close to the other man, “I am a man of honor. Don’t dare you accuse me of something so inhumane. Would you like to retract that, or speak something so affronting and despicable to me again?”

Stonegit, not waiting for this to get any worse, grabbed Blunt’s shoulder and pulled him away from the table. “Get some air!” he growled.

“Whoa!” Blunt said, raising his hands, the alcohol now hitting him in full swing. “I don’t like getting manhandled.”

“Then please, please get some air, or some coffee, or some sleep. But for the love of Odin do not make my job harder.” Stonegit pleaded.

Blunt swaggered up to him, leaning down and whispering in his ear.

Stonegit’s eyes widened and he shoved Blunt backwards, taking off his weapons belt. “That’s it,” he said. “Either walk out of this room right now…” he tossed them aside, rolling up his sleeves. “Or I’ll snuff you like a candle.”

“Ooooh,” Blunt said, looking around at the audience. He raised his hand and then carefully walked into the center of the room. He turned in a circle, bidding the people there to separate off to the sides. He clicked his fingers a few times and the band slowly its music down, coming to a stop. “The Dublin Road please,” Blunt said. After a moment of uncertainty the music kicked up with a lively Irish sounding folk song. Blunt walked in a smooth circle, peeling off his shirt and turning in a circle, spreading his arms, presenting himself to the audience, and the turned again, faced Stonegit, and bid him over with a challenging hand motion.

Eyes flaring, Stonegit grabbed the hem of his shirt, and then his face turned red and he tugged back in place, rolling his neck instead.

Blunt huffed a small laugh, tossing his shirt across the room and into Egil’s lap. He snapped his fingers, pointing them at Egil as he winked once. “Watch and learn kid!” he called.

“Get out!” Stonegit said, marching over, but Blunt danced out of the way. Stonegit threw a punch, but Blunt spun around smoothly, hopping on one foot, hoisting himself into the air, before landing gracefully away from Stonegit.

Putting on a face of mock surprise, Blunt turned in a circle, shrugging his shoulders at the audience as if he couldn’t explain his own uncanny dodging abilities. The small pockets of stifled laughter did not improve Stonegit’s mood. “Sorry,” he called. “Did I accidently get out of the way, forgive me.” He placed his hands behind his head, flexing his biceps. “Come on then, have another swing.”

Snorting almost like a bull, Stonegit stormed up to him, pulling back an arm. But just as Blunt thought about stepping back, Stonegit grabbed up a bowl of apples, throwing one right into Blunt’s forehead. The fruit bounced of his head and Blunt staggered, and then flinched as another hit him in the side of the head. Stonegit’s arm came back and forth, hurling the bowls contents into Blunt painfully. Finally, he dropped the bowl, and leaped on his back, attempting to choke him out with his forearm. He grunted in his ear. “You forgot who you’re dealing with! I’ve killed people, knocking out some dumb slab of muscle isn’t really a challenge feat!”

“That is the sexists thing you have ever said to me!” Blunt rasped, taking a few running strides before jumping and rolling onto his back.

Stonegit let go with a gasp as he was crushed under the larger man.

Blunt hopped to his feet, dancing slightly. “Come on!” He said.

Stonegit shot up like a rocket, hitting Blunt once, twice, three times across the face.

It was like hitting a chunk of rubber. Blunt blinked a few times, registering the hits, and then grabbed Stonegit up by his shirt, tossing him on top of the table. He hopped up as well, swinging a haymaker.

Stonegit ducked it, smacking Blunt in the stomach with his fist and brining up his other one, clocking him across the face. Blunt staggered from the hits, and then stuck out a foot, but Stonegit’s caught it, bringing his knee up into Blunt’s inner thigh.

Blunt yelped as the hard bone struck the sensitive cluster of nerves, falling back on his rear. In an instant Stonegit had straddled his chest, throwing down blows. A few of them hit Blunt, but the man was able to block most of them. He caught both of Stonegit’s hands, and met his eyes, he glanced down, seeing the position they were in and then looked back up at him. “Are you feeling what I’m feeling?” he asked, quirking his eyebrows.

“Not even close,” Stonegit panted, and head butting his forehead with a firm jerk.

Blunt’s vision flashed white and his eyes rolled. “Ow…” he said. He blinked a few times, and then grinned up at his opponent. “Eh, I’ve been through worse.” Blunt’s hips bucked up, throwing Stonegit off him, grabbing him by the back of the shirt, he slid him across the table, shooting him off the end of it with a crash.

The dining hall fell into silence as Blunt dusted off his hands. “Well then, that’s settles that.” He spun on the ball of his foot, facing Haddock. “You know I’ve been trying to think of the best possible insult to spew drunkenly at your face, and I think I got it. King Haddock! You remind me of my grAAAA-!”

The skin on Blunt’s jaw rippled as a wooden bowl was smashed across his face with devastating force. Spit flew from his lips as the force of the blow made his whole body spin once, before it wobbled, and crashed on the edge of the table, toppling to the floor. The sucker punch Blunt had received from Goat earlier that week had merely caused the man to lose his balance, this…on the other hand, had knocked him totally and completely out cold. Stonegit panted heavily as he stared down at him, dropping the bowl with a clatter. He turned to Haddock, inhaled deeply, and then huffed, straightening himself self out, and sitting back down in his seat. “I apologize for that display,” he said, nodding his head once to the King. “But I trust the end result was satisfying.”  

Haddock glanced down at the unconscious man lying on the floor, then toward his children, who were gawking with their mouths open, and then lastly at Stonegit. His facial expression demonstrated he did indeed feel some satisfaction at Blunt’s condition. However, aloud he merely remarked, “I will be most pleased if no more disturbances happen,” and then stepped off for another drink.

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