fic: Wallflower In Motion
Feb. 21st, 2020 09:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Wallflower In Motion
Series: Fire Emblem: Echoes
Character/pairing: Kamui/Leon
Rating: PG-13
Summary: At a celebration ball after the war, Leon finds himself a wallflower, until a mysterious masked stranger steps in.
Word count: 3,957
Author's note:
A treat for EvilMuffins who mentioned masked balls.
The entire castle was decorated with delicate lanterns, hanging streamers, bouquets of flowers, and of course, the noble healrdry.
On the dance floor, couples danced, completely devoted and wrapped up to each other. And none were more affectionate, or clearly in love than their dear king and queen themselves, who seemed to barely notice the other dancers around them. Celica's bridal dress was made of the finest lace, her mask was made of the same lace and decorated with white feathers--evoking a swan.
Fitting, for swans were as deadly as they were beautiful.
Alm wore a the clothes of a bridegroom, a noble suit that seemed to chafe at his neck, for on occasion during moments between dances, he would pull at the tie at his throat.
An elegant and handsome masked butler came by with a tray of drinks, certainly alcoholic. Leon took the glass, and took one last glance back to Valbar.
Valbar was too forthright for masks, and had excused himself from dancing. I'm too old, and my wife is gone. He'd kept on his armor, and told tales of how they'd beat Duma to an adoring crowd.
Valbar didn't even seem to notice the degree or intensity of the attention from the crowd he had drown, or definite affection from his crowd of admirers, both male and female. The women, especially, were enthralled by his every word. One very eligible lady clutched Valbar's arm as he went on with the tale. Leon looked away. The only comfort he had was that Valbar didn't seem to notice the depth of her flirtations.
No surprise; Valbar didn't much notice Leon's flirting either.
Leon walked out onto the balcony and finished his drink, which was his second glass of the night. He could still hear the waltz, the crowds, the laughter even from here, though at least it was more dull. He could go be one of the adoring crowd, unnoticed at Valbar's side, or he could watch the many men and women dancing, all so in love.
Neither was too appealing at the moment. Watching other people be oh so in love, and adore Valbar from afar was not his idea of a celebration. Not that he clung to bitterness; it caused wrinkles.
But a man could only take so many rivals for his love's affection and not be....affected. Especially when more of them crowded Leon out from Valbar's side, and Valbar hadn't even taken notice.
(Of course, it wasn't that Valbar was cruel. He simply always got into telling stories, and lost track of time. It was always like this. The hours would go by until it was almost dawn as Valbar eloquently told every bit of whatever tale.)
He downed the rest of his drink, and welcomed the burn and bite at his throat. Perhaps he would turn in sooner, before his dour mood caused him to make a fool of himself, or worse, made Valbar's night worse. He'd gladly take a miserable evening if it meant Valbar had a bit of happiness.
Because, Valbar was enjoying himself telling stories of the war. Leon knew that every single lady there, and many of the men would love to make Valbar their spouse, and would by the end of the night likely make overtures. And just that had put such a damper on the revelries for Leon.
The last thing Leon wanted to see was the beginning of watching the man he loved fall in love with another.
Yes, he'd told himself he'd get over Valbar. But it was proving more difficult than imagined. A shame they didn't sell potions to relieve one of unrequited love. Leon could certainly use one now.
But, no. He'd have to take the old fashioned way and wait out the heartbreak.
Alcohol helped, he supposed.
Flowers were woven into a chain and wrapped about the pillars. The night air was cool, but pleasantly so. All about the city were lights and torches lit in celebration.
Well, good for them, Leon supposed. A shame he couldn't be more happy for all these oh so happy people. But watching the man he loved be adored by all, well...it grated.
If he was a kinder person, he could stand back and appreciate that Valbar was finally getting the attention he deserved. But he wasn't. So he drowned this mix of jealousy and misery down with each drink.
The sound of footsteps behind hm made Leon turn about. He hoped it was another of those butlers. He was in dire need of another drink. A few more of these and he'd sleep away the night, and the sight of his potential rivals, all with more chance of winning than he could ever have.
Instead of a butler, it was a masked man. He was taller than Leon, though not quite as massive as Valbar. The mask he wore was entirely different. It covered his entire face, was white with some kind of animal. A white fox, perhaps? Or was it a dog? There were sharp red marks upon it, and while there were the shape of eye marks, he couldn't see the man's eyes in the dim light of the balcony. Unlike the elegant flowers, there was something primal, even fearsome about this mask.
The man pulled out a sword.
Leon tensed, his back to the balcony. An assassin? Leon hadn't brought his bow with him, not to a ball. He didn't even have a knife he used to cut food, given that it had been left at the blacksmith's to be sharpened.
If he screamed, would they even hear him over the revelry? At least with this many soldiers, the loss of life would be few.
But by then, it'd be too late for him.
Leon braced for a blow. "Know that Valbar will avenge me."
The man lifted a gloved hand, and held it up. He showed the blunt-tipped sword to Leon. A training sword, nicked blunt by constant blows to training dummies. It would've been difficult to make more than a bruise with such a dull sword.
"You just wished to show me your swordplay then?"
The masked man nodded.
"Then, slash away, I suppose. I've nothing better to do today. Might as well take in some show to make this night even slightly tolerable before I turn in and wake up with a hangover."
The man raised the sword in a graceful arc. He began a dance of the sorts that Leon had never seen. Smooth and liquid were his movements as he drew the sword across the air and spun.
The sword was lifted up to the sky, and somehow it seemed unfathomably sad as he brought a hand to his chest. He took a fencer's stance and thrust the sword into the air over and over, to the same time as the waltz.
The man bowed his head, a silent prayer to the gods, and then sprung up with seeming fury as he stabbed at the air--in unseen revenge.
Finally the sword was sheathed and the man bowed his head again. The last strain of the waltz ended too, at that very same moment.
"Are you part of some traveling dance troupe? That was quite moving, even if I didn't fully understand it."
The man shook his head.
"Is there more of that dance you were doing?"
He man nodded. In this light, and this angle, he could now see that the man had deep black hair.
Just like....
He titled his head. Despite the mask, he began to sense a faint recognition of someone who had been there beside him all along.
"Kamui?"
The man froze, shoulders tense, his hands upon the sword.
The poor lighting, his dour mood and yes, the alcohol had all made him miss the obvious. But as he took a step closer, he definitely recognized his erstwhile companion. Leon lifted up the mask, to reveal exactly who he'd guessed.
"Kamui? What are you doing?"
"--You seemed kind of down today. I knew you wouldn't smile if you knew it was me, and I wanted to see you smiling again. When I ran into the mask seller down there that had some traditional masks, I knew what to do."
"You did all that on your own?" Leon said skeptically.
Kamui frowned. "Hey, don't sound so surprised."
"Is this some kind of grift? You've got a wallet where your heart should be. I'm not going to toss you a coin for that little dance, you know. Not that I have many to throw," Leon said.
He'd had to spend quite a bit to repair what that journey had done to his poor skin. The creams from the apothecary didn't come cheap, but at least his hands had begun to heal from how chapped, dry and raw they'd become during the war.
"It's not that at all--but I knew you'd say that." Kamui shook his head and sighed. "This is why I donned the mask. You're always determined to think the worst of me. I knew you'd be on guard. But if I was just some stranger, maybe you'd smile again."
"Well, you were right. On both accounts. It was rather interesting. Probably the best event of the night. Though that wasn't hard to match, considering what a disaster the night has been for me."
In the end, this mysterious masked man had turned out to be Kamui? Even stranger, Kamui doing something not for coin? Maybe he was drunk.
"What was that dance? I've never seen anything like it before," Leon said.
"It's a form of art from my former homeland, before we all got chased into the cities and had to sell away our livestock. This one is the story of a shepherd who lost his love and flock when brigands struck. He went on journey of revenge, and succeeded in slaying the brigands, but sustained a mortal wound. In the end he's reunited with his love in heaven. I specifically did the dance where he was readying to go attack the brigands, and was saying goodbye to the last of his life."
Leon lifted one eyebrow. "You thought that would cheer me up? It's pretty dark story. I could sense the sadness even without words."
"It was the only one I knew the steps to. I guess this whole thing wasn't the best of my plans."
"No, it was very kind of you. I suppose I have been a little harsh in my assessment of you. And in general. This ball has left me in a sour mood, I'm afraid. Thank you for trying to cheer me up, though."
"Would another dance help, if you knew it was me? I'm all out of ideas on how to better the night for you," Kamui said.
"I don't hate you. You're my comrade, after all," Leon said.
Really, the thing that grated most of all was Kamui's invasive questions, which he never seemed to realize were questions Kamui was actually asking himself. Leon knew that Kamui was discovering himself, and he should be patient because sometimes it took people like them longer to figure this out, but the amount of time it was taking him to accept the obvious was ridiculous.
Well, that and how he valued money above anything else, and was quite blunt about the fact. At least he was up front about it, Leon supposed. Still, hearing Kamui say things like I'm just in it for the money was offputting when so much had been at stake.
"Good to know I merit 'not being hated' by you," Kamui said dryly.
"All right, I'll admit it. I rather like you right now. Keep dancing and I might even like you more."
Kamui leaned in close, and lifted Leon's chin. The touch was startling in the cold night. "I will, then. You deserve to smile tonight. And I'd give all the gold I had just to bring it back."
Years ago, Valbar had lifted up his chin and kept him company to make him smile through his tears. Leon had fallen in love with him that very instant.
As Kamui pulled away, and the heat of his touch left, all Leon wanted to do was take his wrist and return his hand there. Leon's heart beat faster. He felt his face heating, felt the same signs he'd felt then.
He fell in love too easy. He'd followed one into battle and watched him die, and fallen for another who couldn't love him back, not like that. And now--he felt the signs again. Oh, it had to be the alcohol. A trick of the light, of the night.
Anything but the thought that he was falling in love with Kamui of all people.
But then, some men made it too easy to fall in love with them. He never thought Kamui would be one of them.
"How about a dance, for old times? Do you know the steps?" Leon said.
"I've picked them up along the way, though I might step on your feet," Kamui said.
"I'll charge you extra each time," Leon said.
"Hey, no one said there would be charges," Kamui said indignantly.
Leon laughed. "I knew that'd get a rise out of you." He gave Kamui a wink. "Your weakness is just too obvious."
"Phew, it was a joke? I already spent most of my gold getting this mask, I'd be in debt to you at this rate."
Leon lifted his eyebrows. "You willingly parted with your gold for me? Maybe you're actually not that bad after all."
"Great, maybe if I do another few dances, I can go up to 'tolerable' eventually," Kamui said dryly.
"You're getting there. By the way, how much gold was the mask?"
"My entire pouch, and one of my knives, too. But, it was worth it."
"...I was worth it?" Leon asked softly.
Kamui nodded. Leon thought in that moment, he couldn't even begin to speak. No wonder, even at the best moments, Kamui's attempts to express his emotions were invasive questions, denial and more denial. But Leon saw the way Kamui looked at him, stolen glances that he seemed to be at war with himself for.
In the ballroom beyond, Alm and Celica still danced. His hand rested on Kamui's shoulder as they started in a slow waltz. This first--technically second--touch was hesitant as they took each step of the dance together. His hand was at Leon's hip, and it was actually kind of cute to see him flustered at the touch. Like Kamui had touched a hot coal and didn't know what to do with himself.
But, for his credit, Kamui didn't step on Leon's toes.
"You're surprisingly light on your feet," Leon said.
"I pick up things here and there. I've no formal training like those nobles, though," Kamui said.
"Well, you're pretty good, considering," Leon said.
"A compliment from you is pretty rare."
Leon chuckled. "Treasure it, then. You won't hear much more from me," Leon said.
"You never know, I might. Stranger things have happened," Kamui said.
"Oh, do you have plans~?" There was a teasing lilt in Leon's voice. He could blame it on the alcohol tomorrow.
There was something unreadable in Kamui's expression. "Yeah, I do."
"Good luck, then...on your great big plans," Leon said.
"Thanks, I'll need it. The odds are stacked against me, but then again, we went against Duma and won, so anything's possible."
He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be held like this, to have another human being so close. Even through his suit, he could feel the warmth of Kamui's body. Tantalizing, appealing--he'd blame that on the alcohol tomorrow, too.
The ball would likely last until dawn, but Leon wouldn't last that long. He'd spent half the night being a wallflower and drinking away his sorrows, while lovers danced away. And then a masked man who turned out to be his (often frustrating) comrade stepped in and salvaged the night. More than salvaged, call it saved entirely.
Leon let out a yawn. If he was going to go down in flames, he was going to go spectacularly. He rested his head against Kamui's chest and closed his eyes as they swayed together in the soft song. Kamui tensed, but his hand rested gently at Leon's back.
Kamui's chest was so firm, and he could feel the lively beat of Kamui's heart growing faster at the contact.
And a thought came to him, how nice it would be to lay against his chest and feel that wamrth and hear his heart beat and fall asleep. Just like that, no words or excuses. Just them.
He'd have to blame that on the drink, too. Because if he was more sober, he'd be listing reasons how Kamui would never be half the man Valbar was.
Except in this light, he looked pretty damn good.
With the way he'd emptied his wallet for that mask, Kamui might just one day close the gap between him and Valbar. If he kept it up, Valbar would have some serious competition.
Something Leon never thought he'd be thinking, but here he was.
"You falling asleep there? Do need me to walk you home?" Kamui said softly.
"What, will you carry my bag and ask my father's permission to court me next?"
"What'd you say? It was all muffled against my shirt," Kamui said.
"Nothing, nothing much. I probably do need to be walked home like this. Falling asleep in the gutter is bad for one's skin, and one's wallet."
He leaned against Kamui's arm. "Thank you for being my mysterious masked man, my prince charming, even if only for a night."
"The night's not over yet," Kamui said.
"Mmn." Leon rested his head against Kamui's arm.
And maybe he was a little less drunk than he let on, but it kept from awkward conversation, and it felt rather nice, too. Kamui's hand was at the small of his back as he helped him through these streets lit up with joy.
Imagine a romance like that. Dancing in ballrooms until morning with a handsome and adoring man. Celica was a lucky girl.
Then again, he'd done the same, hadn't he? Well, not quite. It wasn't a grand romance, and--Kamui didn't adore him. Most of the time they probably couldn't stand each other. Of course, who could tell with Kamui? He was so carefree--not serious about anything.
Still, Leon leaned in further.
"Hey, you okay over there? Need me to carry you?"
"If you drop me, I'll never forgive you, you know."
"I'm not dropping you."
Kamui lifted him up bridal style, and it was such a breathless feeling to be carried so close. Kamui did it rather effortlessly, too. Something that Leon certainly took note of.
Leon rested his palm against Kamui's chest.
To steady himself, of course.
Kamui was rather sleek, and not quite as built as Valbar, but he was definitely quite strong. Deceptively so, actually. It was all that carefree ways and holding back that made Leon underestimate him.
He certainly wouldn't do that again.
"Onwards, faithful steed," Leon said.
"I'm a steed now?"
"Well, I'm the one getting a ride..." Leon chuckled. "You're somewhat decent and handy. I just might keep you around."
"Wow, I earned the rank of 'somewhat decent' in a single night," Kamui said dryly.
"Keep it up and you might just get to 'okay' eventually," Leon said.
"Face it, at the rate I'm going, I'll get to 'Good' by Monday," Kamui said.
"Ah, but that's only if you don't lose any points and slide backwards," Leon said. "And you're very good at that."
"Hmmmm, I'll take that chance," Kamui said.
He rested his head against Kamui's chest. The night was alight with bonfires, such a beautiful view. And he had the best possible vantage point to view. Held and carried by a man who yes, he had to admit it, was actually quite handsome and caring despite it all.
Maybe Leon had stumbled into a grand romance after all without even meaning to.
*
Leon woke up with a pounding head. His mouth was drier than any desert, and he already had regrets. The sliver of light through the curtains felt like a knife against his eyes. He never held his liquor well, and it always made him flirtier than usual. Usually he avoided drink solely so he wouldn't ruin the fine line of friendship and his feelings between him and Valbar.
However, last night had been an exception.
"I'm getting too old for this," he muttered, and instantly regretted it. The echo of his words left a deep aching throb in his mind.
The door opened. Leon peered out from the covers to catch sight of Leon holding a bottle full of greenish liquid. He'd attached the mask to his satchel, and a smiling canine face with slashes of red all about it peered out from the side.
"Ah, you're awake, good. Here, take this."
Leon pulled the blanket tight about him, like a cloak, and even shaded his face as if it were a hood. He couldn't imagine how he felt. At least he wasn't throwing up.
With a groan, Leon reached out for the drink. But he was still unsteady, and groggy. Kamui reached out to steady him, and held the potion with one hand, and another to lift his chin. It had a pungent scent, and tasted twice as bitter. But even as he drank it, Leon felt his headache beginning to soothe as surely as if a salve had been poured directly upon his head.
"It's an old remedy. I headed out early this morning and gathered some of the ingredients for an apothecary. Was missing an ingredient, but they had it on hand, at least. Luckily they whipped it up before you woke."
Kamui didn't immediately draw away, and Leon could feel the heat of his skin. Even more, this time he was entirely sober and yet his heart was still beating faster at the contact.
Leon pulled the blanket closer about him, and ducked his head. It'd never bothered him that Kamui saw him at his worst, with travels that made his skin look as cracked as the desert. Of course he'd wanted to hide away his chapped skin from Valbar, but Kamui? He was only interested in money and wandering, and Leon had no attraction to him.
At least, none that he'd be willing to admit.
But the thought of Kamui seeing him this hungover was grating, like sand in his boot. Oh so grating, and inescapable, too.
"I thought you spent all your gold and then some last night," Leon said.
"I had more than one dagger, though I'll have to do some mercenary jobs before the day is out unless I want to sleep in the gutters. Good thing our King and his queen have plenty of jobs, and deep pockets. They're even giving bonuses for who can rout the most brigands."
"You sold another knife for me?" Leon said softly.
"Well, I've still got one, and the sword, of course," Kamui said. He rubbed at his neck awkwardly, a flush to his face. "They weren't sentimental. I just got them around to keep me from dying. So if they help keep you from dying, then good."
"I wouldn't have died, though I certainly would've felt it. ....Thank you, Kamui."
The rosy glint of the ball and alcohol had gone, but even in this hungover and gray morning, his mysterious masked prince was here. In fact, in the morning light he seemed even more appealing.
The most enigmatic mask reveal of all was the realization that Kamui had a heart in there for anything other than gold.
Leon licked his lips. "I certainly owe you tenfold now," Leon said.
"No, you don't owe me," Kamui said. "I'm sure we're even after that long war."
Leon furrowed his brow, and gave Kamui an incredulous look. "Who are you, and what did you do with Kamui?" Leon said.
"Sheesh, I'm not heartless. I wouldn't leave you puking and miserable," Kamui said.
"Well, that's good to know, I guess. Let me help you with your mercenary job to recoup your losses. I won't even ask for a cut of the gold. It's the least I could do to watch your back and keep you safe from a sneak attack. I wouldn't want you out having to sleep in the gutter for my sake."
Kamui broke into a big smile. "Us just working together? I kind of like the sound of that."
"Only 'kind of'?"
"Your tongue is pretty sharp. You'd probably spend the whole time mocking me," Kamui said.
"Now, Kamui, I thought that was one of the things you liked about me."
"Yeah, you're right," Kamui said. "There's still some breakfast; I made sure they saved you some, though the eggs are probably cold by now. You feeling able to stand?"
"Just give me a few moments to freshen up and I'll be down. Are you going to head out for mercenary jobs right away?"
"If you're up to it. I'd rather not be in debt to the innkeeper already. I'm liable to have a knife in my back if I'm not careful," Kamui said.
"Actually, I'm feeling much better. That potion you gave me tasted horrible, but my, my, my, how it worked."
"Good. All right, see you then." Kamui gave him one last smile as he left, and the door closed behind him.
Leon let the blanket slide and headed to the adjoining room where water had been drawn in a bucket for patrons to clean up. The first drops of that cold water woke him thoroughly, but the feeling deep in him didn't go away.
"Kamui, huh....how unexpected...."
For once, it wasn't Valbar's name that was on his lips.
AN:
The mask mentioned is specifically inspired by/based on Noh Masks and the Kitsune masks.
Series: Fire Emblem: Echoes
Character/pairing: Kamui/Leon
Rating: PG-13
Summary: At a celebration ball after the war, Leon finds himself a wallflower, until a mysterious masked stranger steps in.
Word count: 3,957
Author's note:
A treat for EvilMuffins who mentioned masked balls.
The entire castle was decorated with delicate lanterns, hanging streamers, bouquets of flowers, and of course, the noble healrdry.
On the dance floor, couples danced, completely devoted and wrapped up to each other. And none were more affectionate, or clearly in love than their dear king and queen themselves, who seemed to barely notice the other dancers around them. Celica's bridal dress was made of the finest lace, her mask was made of the same lace and decorated with white feathers--evoking a swan.
Fitting, for swans were as deadly as they were beautiful.
Alm wore a the clothes of a bridegroom, a noble suit that seemed to chafe at his neck, for on occasion during moments between dances, he would pull at the tie at his throat.
An elegant and handsome masked butler came by with a tray of drinks, certainly alcoholic. Leon took the glass, and took one last glance back to Valbar.
Valbar was too forthright for masks, and had excused himself from dancing. I'm too old, and my wife is gone. He'd kept on his armor, and told tales of how they'd beat Duma to an adoring crowd.
Valbar didn't even seem to notice the degree or intensity of the attention from the crowd he had drown, or definite affection from his crowd of admirers, both male and female. The women, especially, were enthralled by his every word. One very eligible lady clutched Valbar's arm as he went on with the tale. Leon looked away. The only comfort he had was that Valbar didn't seem to notice the depth of her flirtations.
No surprise; Valbar didn't much notice Leon's flirting either.
Leon walked out onto the balcony and finished his drink, which was his second glass of the night. He could still hear the waltz, the crowds, the laughter even from here, though at least it was more dull. He could go be one of the adoring crowd, unnoticed at Valbar's side, or he could watch the many men and women dancing, all so in love.
Neither was too appealing at the moment. Watching other people be oh so in love, and adore Valbar from afar was not his idea of a celebration. Not that he clung to bitterness; it caused wrinkles.
But a man could only take so many rivals for his love's affection and not be....affected. Especially when more of them crowded Leon out from Valbar's side, and Valbar hadn't even taken notice.
(Of course, it wasn't that Valbar was cruel. He simply always got into telling stories, and lost track of time. It was always like this. The hours would go by until it was almost dawn as Valbar eloquently told every bit of whatever tale.)
He downed the rest of his drink, and welcomed the burn and bite at his throat. Perhaps he would turn in sooner, before his dour mood caused him to make a fool of himself, or worse, made Valbar's night worse. He'd gladly take a miserable evening if it meant Valbar had a bit of happiness.
Because, Valbar was enjoying himself telling stories of the war. Leon knew that every single lady there, and many of the men would love to make Valbar their spouse, and would by the end of the night likely make overtures. And just that had put such a damper on the revelries for Leon.
The last thing Leon wanted to see was the beginning of watching the man he loved fall in love with another.
Yes, he'd told himself he'd get over Valbar. But it was proving more difficult than imagined. A shame they didn't sell potions to relieve one of unrequited love. Leon could certainly use one now.
But, no. He'd have to take the old fashioned way and wait out the heartbreak.
Alcohol helped, he supposed.
Flowers were woven into a chain and wrapped about the pillars. The night air was cool, but pleasantly so. All about the city were lights and torches lit in celebration.
Well, good for them, Leon supposed. A shame he couldn't be more happy for all these oh so happy people. But watching the man he loved be adored by all, well...it grated.
If he was a kinder person, he could stand back and appreciate that Valbar was finally getting the attention he deserved. But he wasn't. So he drowned this mix of jealousy and misery down with each drink.
The sound of footsteps behind hm made Leon turn about. He hoped it was another of those butlers. He was in dire need of another drink. A few more of these and he'd sleep away the night, and the sight of his potential rivals, all with more chance of winning than he could ever have.
Instead of a butler, it was a masked man. He was taller than Leon, though not quite as massive as Valbar. The mask he wore was entirely different. It covered his entire face, was white with some kind of animal. A white fox, perhaps? Or was it a dog? There were sharp red marks upon it, and while there were the shape of eye marks, he couldn't see the man's eyes in the dim light of the balcony. Unlike the elegant flowers, there was something primal, even fearsome about this mask.
The man pulled out a sword.
Leon tensed, his back to the balcony. An assassin? Leon hadn't brought his bow with him, not to a ball. He didn't even have a knife he used to cut food, given that it had been left at the blacksmith's to be sharpened.
If he screamed, would they even hear him over the revelry? At least with this many soldiers, the loss of life would be few.
But by then, it'd be too late for him.
Leon braced for a blow. "Know that Valbar will avenge me."
The man lifted a gloved hand, and held it up. He showed the blunt-tipped sword to Leon. A training sword, nicked blunt by constant blows to training dummies. It would've been difficult to make more than a bruise with such a dull sword.
"You just wished to show me your swordplay then?"
The masked man nodded.
"Then, slash away, I suppose. I've nothing better to do today. Might as well take in some show to make this night even slightly tolerable before I turn in and wake up with a hangover."
The man raised the sword in a graceful arc. He began a dance of the sorts that Leon had never seen. Smooth and liquid were his movements as he drew the sword across the air and spun.
The sword was lifted up to the sky, and somehow it seemed unfathomably sad as he brought a hand to his chest. He took a fencer's stance and thrust the sword into the air over and over, to the same time as the waltz.
The man bowed his head, a silent prayer to the gods, and then sprung up with seeming fury as he stabbed at the air--in unseen revenge.
Finally the sword was sheathed and the man bowed his head again. The last strain of the waltz ended too, at that very same moment.
"Are you part of some traveling dance troupe? That was quite moving, even if I didn't fully understand it."
The man shook his head.
"Is there more of that dance you were doing?"
He man nodded. In this light, and this angle, he could now see that the man had deep black hair.
Just like....
He titled his head. Despite the mask, he began to sense a faint recognition of someone who had been there beside him all along.
"Kamui?"
The man froze, shoulders tense, his hands upon the sword.
The poor lighting, his dour mood and yes, the alcohol had all made him miss the obvious. But as he took a step closer, he definitely recognized his erstwhile companion. Leon lifted up the mask, to reveal exactly who he'd guessed.
"Kamui? What are you doing?"
"--You seemed kind of down today. I knew you wouldn't smile if you knew it was me, and I wanted to see you smiling again. When I ran into the mask seller down there that had some traditional masks, I knew what to do."
"You did all that on your own?" Leon said skeptically.
Kamui frowned. "Hey, don't sound so surprised."
"Is this some kind of grift? You've got a wallet where your heart should be. I'm not going to toss you a coin for that little dance, you know. Not that I have many to throw," Leon said.
He'd had to spend quite a bit to repair what that journey had done to his poor skin. The creams from the apothecary didn't come cheap, but at least his hands had begun to heal from how chapped, dry and raw they'd become during the war.
"It's not that at all--but I knew you'd say that." Kamui shook his head and sighed. "This is why I donned the mask. You're always determined to think the worst of me. I knew you'd be on guard. But if I was just some stranger, maybe you'd smile again."
"Well, you were right. On both accounts. It was rather interesting. Probably the best event of the night. Though that wasn't hard to match, considering what a disaster the night has been for me."
In the end, this mysterious masked man had turned out to be Kamui? Even stranger, Kamui doing something not for coin? Maybe he was drunk.
"What was that dance? I've never seen anything like it before," Leon said.
"It's a form of art from my former homeland, before we all got chased into the cities and had to sell away our livestock. This one is the story of a shepherd who lost his love and flock when brigands struck. He went on journey of revenge, and succeeded in slaying the brigands, but sustained a mortal wound. In the end he's reunited with his love in heaven. I specifically did the dance where he was readying to go attack the brigands, and was saying goodbye to the last of his life."
Leon lifted one eyebrow. "You thought that would cheer me up? It's pretty dark story. I could sense the sadness even without words."
"It was the only one I knew the steps to. I guess this whole thing wasn't the best of my plans."
"No, it was very kind of you. I suppose I have been a little harsh in my assessment of you. And in general. This ball has left me in a sour mood, I'm afraid. Thank you for trying to cheer me up, though."
"Would another dance help, if you knew it was me? I'm all out of ideas on how to better the night for you," Kamui said.
"I don't hate you. You're my comrade, after all," Leon said.
Really, the thing that grated most of all was Kamui's invasive questions, which he never seemed to realize were questions Kamui was actually asking himself. Leon knew that Kamui was discovering himself, and he should be patient because sometimes it took people like them longer to figure this out, but the amount of time it was taking him to accept the obvious was ridiculous.
Well, that and how he valued money above anything else, and was quite blunt about the fact. At least he was up front about it, Leon supposed. Still, hearing Kamui say things like I'm just in it for the money was offputting when so much had been at stake.
"Good to know I merit 'not being hated' by you," Kamui said dryly.
"All right, I'll admit it. I rather like you right now. Keep dancing and I might even like you more."
Kamui leaned in close, and lifted Leon's chin. The touch was startling in the cold night. "I will, then. You deserve to smile tonight. And I'd give all the gold I had just to bring it back."
Years ago, Valbar had lifted up his chin and kept him company to make him smile through his tears. Leon had fallen in love with him that very instant.
As Kamui pulled away, and the heat of his touch left, all Leon wanted to do was take his wrist and return his hand there. Leon's heart beat faster. He felt his face heating, felt the same signs he'd felt then.
He fell in love too easy. He'd followed one into battle and watched him die, and fallen for another who couldn't love him back, not like that. And now--he felt the signs again. Oh, it had to be the alcohol. A trick of the light, of the night.
Anything but the thought that he was falling in love with Kamui of all people.
But then, some men made it too easy to fall in love with them. He never thought Kamui would be one of them.
"How about a dance, for old times? Do you know the steps?" Leon said.
"I've picked them up along the way, though I might step on your feet," Kamui said.
"I'll charge you extra each time," Leon said.
"Hey, no one said there would be charges," Kamui said indignantly.
Leon laughed. "I knew that'd get a rise out of you." He gave Kamui a wink. "Your weakness is just too obvious."
"Phew, it was a joke? I already spent most of my gold getting this mask, I'd be in debt to you at this rate."
Leon lifted his eyebrows. "You willingly parted with your gold for me? Maybe you're actually not that bad after all."
"Great, maybe if I do another few dances, I can go up to 'tolerable' eventually," Kamui said dryly.
"You're getting there. By the way, how much gold was the mask?"
"My entire pouch, and one of my knives, too. But, it was worth it."
"...I was worth it?" Leon asked softly.
Kamui nodded. Leon thought in that moment, he couldn't even begin to speak. No wonder, even at the best moments, Kamui's attempts to express his emotions were invasive questions, denial and more denial. But Leon saw the way Kamui looked at him, stolen glances that he seemed to be at war with himself for.
In the ballroom beyond, Alm and Celica still danced. His hand rested on Kamui's shoulder as they started in a slow waltz. This first--technically second--touch was hesitant as they took each step of the dance together. His hand was at Leon's hip, and it was actually kind of cute to see him flustered at the touch. Like Kamui had touched a hot coal and didn't know what to do with himself.
But, for his credit, Kamui didn't step on Leon's toes.
"You're surprisingly light on your feet," Leon said.
"I pick up things here and there. I've no formal training like those nobles, though," Kamui said.
"Well, you're pretty good, considering," Leon said.
"A compliment from you is pretty rare."
Leon chuckled. "Treasure it, then. You won't hear much more from me," Leon said.
"You never know, I might. Stranger things have happened," Kamui said.
"Oh, do you have plans~?" There was a teasing lilt in Leon's voice. He could blame it on the alcohol tomorrow.
There was something unreadable in Kamui's expression. "Yeah, I do."
"Good luck, then...on your great big plans," Leon said.
"Thanks, I'll need it. The odds are stacked against me, but then again, we went against Duma and won, so anything's possible."
He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be held like this, to have another human being so close. Even through his suit, he could feel the warmth of Kamui's body. Tantalizing, appealing--he'd blame that on the alcohol tomorrow, too.
The ball would likely last until dawn, but Leon wouldn't last that long. He'd spent half the night being a wallflower and drinking away his sorrows, while lovers danced away. And then a masked man who turned out to be his (often frustrating) comrade stepped in and salvaged the night. More than salvaged, call it saved entirely.
Leon let out a yawn. If he was going to go down in flames, he was going to go spectacularly. He rested his head against Kamui's chest and closed his eyes as they swayed together in the soft song. Kamui tensed, but his hand rested gently at Leon's back.
Kamui's chest was so firm, and he could feel the lively beat of Kamui's heart growing faster at the contact.
And a thought came to him, how nice it would be to lay against his chest and feel that wamrth and hear his heart beat and fall asleep. Just like that, no words or excuses. Just them.
He'd have to blame that on the drink, too. Because if he was more sober, he'd be listing reasons how Kamui would never be half the man Valbar was.
Except in this light, he looked pretty damn good.
With the way he'd emptied his wallet for that mask, Kamui might just one day close the gap between him and Valbar. If he kept it up, Valbar would have some serious competition.
Something Leon never thought he'd be thinking, but here he was.
"You falling asleep there? Do need me to walk you home?" Kamui said softly.
"What, will you carry my bag and ask my father's permission to court me next?"
"What'd you say? It was all muffled against my shirt," Kamui said.
"Nothing, nothing much. I probably do need to be walked home like this. Falling asleep in the gutter is bad for one's skin, and one's wallet."
He leaned against Kamui's arm. "Thank you for being my mysterious masked man, my prince charming, even if only for a night."
"The night's not over yet," Kamui said.
"Mmn." Leon rested his head against Kamui's arm.
And maybe he was a little less drunk than he let on, but it kept from awkward conversation, and it felt rather nice, too. Kamui's hand was at the small of his back as he helped him through these streets lit up with joy.
Imagine a romance like that. Dancing in ballrooms until morning with a handsome and adoring man. Celica was a lucky girl.
Then again, he'd done the same, hadn't he? Well, not quite. It wasn't a grand romance, and--Kamui didn't adore him. Most of the time they probably couldn't stand each other. Of course, who could tell with Kamui? He was so carefree--not serious about anything.
Still, Leon leaned in further.
"Hey, you okay over there? Need me to carry you?"
"If you drop me, I'll never forgive you, you know."
"I'm not dropping you."
Kamui lifted him up bridal style, and it was such a breathless feeling to be carried so close. Kamui did it rather effortlessly, too. Something that Leon certainly took note of.
Leon rested his palm against Kamui's chest.
To steady himself, of course.
Kamui was rather sleek, and not quite as built as Valbar, but he was definitely quite strong. Deceptively so, actually. It was all that carefree ways and holding back that made Leon underestimate him.
He certainly wouldn't do that again.
"Onwards, faithful steed," Leon said.
"I'm a steed now?"
"Well, I'm the one getting a ride..." Leon chuckled. "You're somewhat decent and handy. I just might keep you around."
"Wow, I earned the rank of 'somewhat decent' in a single night," Kamui said dryly.
"Keep it up and you might just get to 'okay' eventually," Leon said.
"Face it, at the rate I'm going, I'll get to 'Good' by Monday," Kamui said.
"Ah, but that's only if you don't lose any points and slide backwards," Leon said. "And you're very good at that."
"Hmmmm, I'll take that chance," Kamui said.
He rested his head against Kamui's chest. The night was alight with bonfires, such a beautiful view. And he had the best possible vantage point to view. Held and carried by a man who yes, he had to admit it, was actually quite handsome and caring despite it all.
Maybe Leon had stumbled into a grand romance after all without even meaning to.
*
Leon woke up with a pounding head. His mouth was drier than any desert, and he already had regrets. The sliver of light through the curtains felt like a knife against his eyes. He never held his liquor well, and it always made him flirtier than usual. Usually he avoided drink solely so he wouldn't ruin the fine line of friendship and his feelings between him and Valbar.
However, last night had been an exception.
"I'm getting too old for this," he muttered, and instantly regretted it. The echo of his words left a deep aching throb in his mind.
The door opened. Leon peered out from the covers to catch sight of Leon holding a bottle full of greenish liquid. He'd attached the mask to his satchel, and a smiling canine face with slashes of red all about it peered out from the side.
"Ah, you're awake, good. Here, take this."
Leon pulled the blanket tight about him, like a cloak, and even shaded his face as if it were a hood. He couldn't imagine how he felt. At least he wasn't throwing up.
With a groan, Leon reached out for the drink. But he was still unsteady, and groggy. Kamui reached out to steady him, and held the potion with one hand, and another to lift his chin. It had a pungent scent, and tasted twice as bitter. But even as he drank it, Leon felt his headache beginning to soothe as surely as if a salve had been poured directly upon his head.
"It's an old remedy. I headed out early this morning and gathered some of the ingredients for an apothecary. Was missing an ingredient, but they had it on hand, at least. Luckily they whipped it up before you woke."
Kamui didn't immediately draw away, and Leon could feel the heat of his skin. Even more, this time he was entirely sober and yet his heart was still beating faster at the contact.
Leon pulled the blanket closer about him, and ducked his head. It'd never bothered him that Kamui saw him at his worst, with travels that made his skin look as cracked as the desert. Of course he'd wanted to hide away his chapped skin from Valbar, but Kamui? He was only interested in money and wandering, and Leon had no attraction to him.
At least, none that he'd be willing to admit.
But the thought of Kamui seeing him this hungover was grating, like sand in his boot. Oh so grating, and inescapable, too.
"I thought you spent all your gold and then some last night," Leon said.
"I had more than one dagger, though I'll have to do some mercenary jobs before the day is out unless I want to sleep in the gutters. Good thing our King and his queen have plenty of jobs, and deep pockets. They're even giving bonuses for who can rout the most brigands."
"You sold another knife for me?" Leon said softly.
"Well, I've still got one, and the sword, of course," Kamui said. He rubbed at his neck awkwardly, a flush to his face. "They weren't sentimental. I just got them around to keep me from dying. So if they help keep you from dying, then good."
"I wouldn't have died, though I certainly would've felt it. ....Thank you, Kamui."
The rosy glint of the ball and alcohol had gone, but even in this hungover and gray morning, his mysterious masked prince was here. In fact, in the morning light he seemed even more appealing.
The most enigmatic mask reveal of all was the realization that Kamui had a heart in there for anything other than gold.
Leon licked his lips. "I certainly owe you tenfold now," Leon said.
"No, you don't owe me," Kamui said. "I'm sure we're even after that long war."
Leon furrowed his brow, and gave Kamui an incredulous look. "Who are you, and what did you do with Kamui?" Leon said.
"Sheesh, I'm not heartless. I wouldn't leave you puking and miserable," Kamui said.
"Well, that's good to know, I guess. Let me help you with your mercenary job to recoup your losses. I won't even ask for a cut of the gold. It's the least I could do to watch your back and keep you safe from a sneak attack. I wouldn't want you out having to sleep in the gutter for my sake."
Kamui broke into a big smile. "Us just working together? I kind of like the sound of that."
"Only 'kind of'?"
"Your tongue is pretty sharp. You'd probably spend the whole time mocking me," Kamui said.
"Now, Kamui, I thought that was one of the things you liked about me."
"Yeah, you're right," Kamui said. "There's still some breakfast; I made sure they saved you some, though the eggs are probably cold by now. You feeling able to stand?"
"Just give me a few moments to freshen up and I'll be down. Are you going to head out for mercenary jobs right away?"
"If you're up to it. I'd rather not be in debt to the innkeeper already. I'm liable to have a knife in my back if I'm not careful," Kamui said.
"Actually, I'm feeling much better. That potion you gave me tasted horrible, but my, my, my, how it worked."
"Good. All right, see you then." Kamui gave him one last smile as he left, and the door closed behind him.
Leon let the blanket slide and headed to the adjoining room where water had been drawn in a bucket for patrons to clean up. The first drops of that cold water woke him thoroughly, but the feeling deep in him didn't go away.
"Kamui, huh....how unexpected...."
For once, it wasn't Valbar's name that was on his lips.
AN:
The mask mentioned is specifically inspired by/based on Noh Masks and the Kitsune masks.
