Work Text:
Shaking Laughter
The sun blazed in the late July sky as Lianne and Alan stood on the ramparts of Pirate’s Swoop castle. Faces to the Emerald Ocean, their hair—Alan’s a gleaming copper-gold and Lianne’s a burning coal black— flapped and nostrils twitched in the briny breeze scented with salt and seaweed.
“That guard looks hot.” Alan pointed at a sentry pacing the courtyard below.
“It must be very hot with the sun shining off that stuffy armor,” agreed Lianne, the very portrait of innocent concern.
“We could cool him down.” Alan tossed an overflowing bucket of water over the battlements, drenching the guard with a satisfying splash.
Ducking behind the stone wall with Alan, Lianne giggled into her dress sleeve as the soaked soldier waved a fist, bellowing an oath to box the ears of whoever had made it rain on him.
Despite this shouted threat, Lianne wasn’t rattled, shaking only with amusement, not fear. A common solider would never dare to lay a hand on a princess of royal blood. She’d tell him so—sticking out her pink tongue as she offered this brave, unflinching proclamation—if he dared to track her by the muffled sound of her laughter.