fic: multiple
Apr. 12th, 2009 07:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: weave, weave the sunlight in your hair
Series: FE10
Day/Theme: 18/weave, weave the sunlight in your hair
Character/Pairing: Lucia/Elincia
Word Count: 249
A/N: Happybutter wanted Lucia/Elincia. So.
Light fell through the trees, mottled and pure. It was a vision of the same hideaway they had once
flourished in. It was enclosed, tight, a place without changes. Their house itself remained pristine, unblemished save for the dust that settled about.
“It’s been such a long time since then,” Elincia said. “It feels like years.”
In truth, it had been merely a year, give or take a few months. Sunlight fell over the blue highlights, turning them the color of a tropical sea..Elincia wondered how her hair looked in Lucia’s gaze. Forests? The feel of grass under them during summer?
“Do you miss it?” Lucia said. “I can grow it out again if you wish.”
Elincia ran her fingers through the aqua strands that framed Lucia’s face. Her hands rested there at her swordswoman’s cheeks. She smiled, Lucia smiled. The moment remained clear, pristine.
“At times, but I like this look too,” Elincia said. “It suits you, somehow.”
“Then I’ll keep it like this.”
A call broke the silence that the forest has fostered. A servant, another reminder of the life to return to.
“Shall we go, Queen Elincia?”
Elincia’s response was to take the gloved hand that was proffered to her. A queen and her swordswoman left the memories behind them. Beyond was a kingdom to rule, to guard and keep until their dying days. Behind them, a forest of light and dust and nothingness, just as the past had left it.
Title: Linger
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: Lucia/Elincia
Word count: 243
A/N: ditto to the last. 32. linger /![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
64damn_prompts
Lucia’s hands find their way to her every moment of the day. The steadying feel of palm against the small of her back is a constant, a support to be leaned on and dwelled within during the idle and busy hours alike. Elincia is never truly alone. It lingers too long, the closeness almost enough to arouse suspicion. But they are as close as sisters, and it is sweet, innocent. To them, there is no aftertaste of bedsheets on their minds. Any nakedness was of the most chaste kind, the kind of sisters, not of lovers. They were most noble and charming and beautiful, courted by the handsomest of suitors.
At night, Elincia stifles sounds with her hand. Contrast, contours. First of laughter at the perfidy of the day and second to the sounds which are most un-sisterlike, the language of lovers in spent breaths and moans and incoherence.
By morning there is no trace of the night. They are good liars, and no innermost circle knows or even suspects. Every kingdom has their dirty secrets
In a portrait, Lucia’s hand rests above the chaise where Elincia reclines. Their gazes are bright with secrets kept. Secrets spread about the colors and willowy strokes. In that portrait it remains, the unsaid fact. A queen and her lady were never to be parted.
Title: Charms
Series: FE9
Character/Pairing: Naesala/Reyson and Tibarn/Reyson
Rating: PG to PG-13
Word count: 703
A/N: 33. charm /64damn_prompts. Do I even have to mark POR spoilers anymore?
--
Reyson is the only one that never falls for his charms. Naesala could flirt with most any woman, beorc or laguz, and they all fall to his will eventually. A soft word, a wink, a compliment, even the most hardened, cynical women fall (and by far, they are merely challenges and that much more enjoyable). Naesala can even make men fall if he tries hard enough. Of course, this is a greater challenge that often requires massive quantities of alcohol.
The only one who is immune is the single most one he would wish to have such a skill work upon. Reyson calls him on his mistakes, every excuse or flattery will only meet with a impenetrable glare. It is the same as if there was a trellis of tree leaves over their heads and the soft aromatic grasses of the Serenes beside him.
Naesala combs his fingers through his own hair, flippant and casual. “Can I help what I was born with?”
“A curse, indeed,” Reyson says. It is the same sarcasm, the same eye rolls that they shared as children. Little has changed except time itself which keeps on moving on to other places and other futures. He is king now, and Reyson is a prince in another king’s castle.
All the charm in the world and it doesn’t affect the one he wanted it to. What sweet irony life brings, how amusing.
Reyson pulls his wings in closer, a fluttering white mass up against his back. Cliffs are no place for a Heron. It would be like transplanting a precious rose to a desert. As he barbs and probes, Naesala looks for the traces, the fingerprints that another king has left on Reyson.
“Don’t you remember when I was the one who saved you, who guarded the heron tribes?” Naesala says this, enunciating every vowel slowly, almost drawing it out to a drawl. He knows that Reyson can read through him like an open book and doesn’t care in the least for once.
Does he kiss you like I did? He isn’t better than I am, surely. I could tell you that immediately. Maybe, just maybe you think of someone else when you’re with him. Have you ever said my name by accident?
Naesala smiles, sardonic at it all.
“That was...a long time ago. And now you consort with humans.”
Ah, life. It passes, it lives on. Bonds break and reform. All of it. Reyson was a mere prince of a peaceful nation, of dancers, of dreamers, of the dead. He didn’t know what it was to be the phoenix to a dying nation. He had been taken care of so long he didn’t know the sacrifices it took at times.
“Why do you seek to anger Tibarn?” Reyson continues. “He has been nothing but good myself and my father, taking us in after– after the razing of Serenes.”
“No reason at all,” Naesala says. “If he’s sending a Heron to fight his battles for him, then he must be a great deal weaker than I thought.”
Reyson seethes away in his own little dreamland corner. Revenge is a good enough motivation, he supposes.
Naesala studies a piece of gold and flips it in his fingers. Over and over. A kingdom for a friend’s life? He remembers the corpulent senator and a plan forms in the recesses.
“You trust me, don’t you, Reyson?”
“Of course, even despite your affairs with the vile humans,” Reyson says.
“Good. I have something to show you...”
And wings alight as they are up into the sky. Black and white, Heron and Raven, back to the bones of a forest and memories and touches stolen between the grasses. Ah life, how it burns, how it fades.
“Come right this way....” Naesala says.
Few knew how hard it is to be king, least of all Reyson. Perhaps he could apologize later, swoop in and rescue him. To again be the protector, the black wings enfolded over white, to touch as they once had.....Even Naesala’s charms have their limits.
Title: Thrice
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: various hints of Geoffrey/Elincia, Lucia/Elincia, Bastian/Lucia and Ike/Soren in passing.
Word count: 707
A/N: Intended for the kink meme but I didn’t like it enough for that. I’ll put something else. Putting it here merely for progress archival.
----
The view of her home was foreign. Even years later at times it felt strange to call the Crimean castle her own. She’d loved three people in her life. The first hadn’t returned the feelings. It had been an innocent crush, a way to while away the hours. She was a princess, he had rescued her. It felt as if some fairy tale was coming to life.
Even a clear-headed girl could fall to that. He was handsome and given to rough charms. Even now she smiled at the thought of Ike. She could just see it now, that first night in the mess hall. There was food on his face and Soren beside him, Soren rolling his eyes and wiping the food away before pushing his food aside. In retrospect she should’ve seen, should’ve understood. It was glaring in these remembrances.
The second and third she had loved equally. They were her everything, the parts of her equation. They were her past, her future, her present.
“It’s getting cold, Queen Elincia. Please come in.”
A voice drew Elincia out from her reverie. She had barely felt the chill. The moon glowed a golden color, drawing out from a frill of clouds surrounding it. In this light, Lucia was hauntingly beautiful. Slender and stately, the shorn hair only accentuated her face.
“I’m sorry, Lucia, I was just... thinking.”
She was flooded with memories: summers spent stargazing, Lucia’s hand in hers, every dancing lesson that Geoffrey was too clumsy for or shared night of whispers. She remembered holding Lucia’s hair in her fingers and shaking, feeling as if those strands were Lucia’s essence. She could feel the hangman’s noose about her as if it was her on trial, her about to die there.
They’d survived on and won the war. A queen and her lady swordsman, a queen and her knight. The equation was skewed, unbalanced. She loved them equally, as much as was physically possible.
“Soon I’ll be married, and you...you’ll be too,” she said.
“I will never marry,” Lucia said.
“Oh, you say that now, but Lord Bastian will ask, surely.”
“And I will refuse him,” Lucia replied.
“And he will continue to ask you every day, each time growing more elegant. This is Lord Bastian we’re speaking of.”
“And I will make sure to refuse every one.”
They chuckled, and the gloom of the moment fell back. But like waves and tides, the melancholy resumed and flooded over them both.
Lucia knew. Elincia knew. There could only be once choice.
“It all seems so different since then...” Elincia said.
The memories are golden and without fault. Their fingers black with char, their hair full of flowers. Geoffrey practicing his lance, Lucia and Elincia crossing swords. She had wanted it to last forever, for mama and papa to visit and tell stories of a court she would some day visit in glory, not tragedy.
“It will be the same as always, Queen Elincia,” Lucia said with utter calmness. Elincia wondered if her heart held that same calm.
“I couldn’t bear it if I lost either of you. Both of you are so precious to me,” Elincia said.
But a choice must be made.
“It won’t. I’ll be here...always,” Lucia said.
Elincia loved three people in her life but only two loved her more than life itself. But she could only choose one. She loves me, she loves me not, petals fell and one name was left.
A knight to wed the queen. A lady swordsman to be left asunder. Life played its cards and at times one could only play along. She imagined a scene, a bride, and a veil being lifted. The person she wed, the one who lifted her veil and smiled back with love had blue hair.
One held a look of bliss, of euphoria, another a steely, carefully blank glance.
Which one? They were interchangeable. She loved each without ceasing. She loved them both.
Series: FE10
Day/Theme: 18/weave, weave the sunlight in your hair
Character/Pairing: Lucia/Elincia
Word Count: 249
A/N: Happybutter wanted Lucia/Elincia. So.
Light fell through the trees, mottled and pure. It was a vision of the same hideaway they had once
flourished in. It was enclosed, tight, a place without changes. Their house itself remained pristine, unblemished save for the dust that settled about.
“It’s been such a long time since then,” Elincia said. “It feels like years.”
In truth, it had been merely a year, give or take a few months. Sunlight fell over the blue highlights, turning them the color of a tropical sea..Elincia wondered how her hair looked in Lucia’s gaze. Forests? The feel of grass under them during summer?
“Do you miss it?” Lucia said. “I can grow it out again if you wish.”
Elincia ran her fingers through the aqua strands that framed Lucia’s face. Her hands rested there at her swordswoman’s cheeks. She smiled, Lucia smiled. The moment remained clear, pristine.
“At times, but I like this look too,” Elincia said. “It suits you, somehow.”
“Then I’ll keep it like this.”
A call broke the silence that the forest has fostered. A servant, another reminder of the life to return to.
“Shall we go, Queen Elincia?”
Elincia’s response was to take the gloved hand that was proffered to her. A queen and her swordswoman left the memories behind them. Beyond was a kingdom to rule, to guard and keep until their dying days. Behind them, a forest of light and dust and nothingness, just as the past had left it.
Title: Linger
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: Lucia/Elincia
Word count: 243
A/N: ditto to the last. 32. linger /
64damn_promptsLucia’s hands find their way to her every moment of the day. The steadying feel of palm against the small of her back is a constant, a support to be leaned on and dwelled within during the idle and busy hours alike. Elincia is never truly alone. It lingers too long, the closeness almost enough to arouse suspicion. But they are as close as sisters, and it is sweet, innocent. To them, there is no aftertaste of bedsheets on their minds. Any nakedness was of the most chaste kind, the kind of sisters, not of lovers. They were most noble and charming and beautiful, courted by the handsomest of suitors.
At night, Elincia stifles sounds with her hand. Contrast, contours. First of laughter at the perfidy of the day and second to the sounds which are most un-sisterlike, the language of lovers in spent breaths and moans and incoherence.
By morning there is no trace of the night. They are good liars, and no innermost circle knows or even suspects. Every kingdom has their dirty secrets
In a portrait, Lucia’s hand rests above the chaise where Elincia reclines. Their gazes are bright with secrets kept. Secrets spread about the colors and willowy strokes. In that portrait it remains, the unsaid fact. A queen and her lady were never to be parted.
Title: Charms
Series: FE9
Character/Pairing: Naesala/Reyson and Tibarn/Reyson
Rating: PG to PG-13
Word count: 703
A/N: 33. charm /
64damn_prompts. Do I even have to mark POR spoilers anymore?--
Reyson is the only one that never falls for his charms. Naesala could flirt with most any woman, beorc or laguz, and they all fall to his will eventually. A soft word, a wink, a compliment, even the most hardened, cynical women fall (and by far, they are merely challenges and that much more enjoyable). Naesala can even make men fall if he tries hard enough. Of course, this is a greater challenge that often requires massive quantities of alcohol.
The only one who is immune is the single most one he would wish to have such a skill work upon. Reyson calls him on his mistakes, every excuse or flattery will only meet with a impenetrable glare. It is the same as if there was a trellis of tree leaves over their heads and the soft aromatic grasses of the Serenes beside him.
Naesala combs his fingers through his own hair, flippant and casual. “Can I help what I was born with?”
“A curse, indeed,” Reyson says. It is the same sarcasm, the same eye rolls that they shared as children. Little has changed except time itself which keeps on moving on to other places and other futures. He is king now, and Reyson is a prince in another king’s castle.
All the charm in the world and it doesn’t affect the one he wanted it to. What sweet irony life brings, how amusing.
Reyson pulls his wings in closer, a fluttering white mass up against his back. Cliffs are no place for a Heron. It would be like transplanting a precious rose to a desert. As he barbs and probes, Naesala looks for the traces, the fingerprints that another king has left on Reyson.
“Don’t you remember when I was the one who saved you, who guarded the heron tribes?” Naesala says this, enunciating every vowel slowly, almost drawing it out to a drawl. He knows that Reyson can read through him like an open book and doesn’t care in the least for once.
Does he kiss you like I did? He isn’t better than I am, surely. I could tell you that immediately. Maybe, just maybe you think of someone else when you’re with him. Have you ever said my name by accident?
Naesala smiles, sardonic at it all.
“That was...a long time ago. And now you consort with humans.”
Ah, life. It passes, it lives on. Bonds break and reform. All of it. Reyson was a mere prince of a peaceful nation, of dancers, of dreamers, of the dead. He didn’t know what it was to be the phoenix to a dying nation. He had been taken care of so long he didn’t know the sacrifices it took at times.
“Why do you seek to anger Tibarn?” Reyson continues. “He has been nothing but good myself and my father, taking us in after– after the razing of Serenes.”
“No reason at all,” Naesala says. “If he’s sending a Heron to fight his battles for him, then he must be a great deal weaker than I thought.”
Reyson seethes away in his own little dreamland corner. Revenge is a good enough motivation, he supposes.
Naesala studies a piece of gold and flips it in his fingers. Over and over. A kingdom for a friend’s life? He remembers the corpulent senator and a plan forms in the recesses.
“You trust me, don’t you, Reyson?”
“Of course, even despite your affairs with the vile humans,” Reyson says.
“Good. I have something to show you...”
And wings alight as they are up into the sky. Black and white, Heron and Raven, back to the bones of a forest and memories and touches stolen between the grasses. Ah life, how it burns, how it fades.
“Come right this way....” Naesala says.
Few knew how hard it is to be king, least of all Reyson. Perhaps he could apologize later, swoop in and rescue him. To again be the protector, the black wings enfolded over white, to touch as they once had.....Even Naesala’s charms have their limits.
Title: Thrice
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: various hints of Geoffrey/Elincia, Lucia/Elincia, Bastian/Lucia and Ike/Soren in passing.
Word count: 707
A/N: Intended for the kink meme but I didn’t like it enough for that. I’ll put something else. Putting it here merely for progress archival.
----
The view of her home was foreign. Even years later at times it felt strange to call the Crimean castle her own. She’d loved three people in her life. The first hadn’t returned the feelings. It had been an innocent crush, a way to while away the hours. She was a princess, he had rescued her. It felt as if some fairy tale was coming to life.
Even a clear-headed girl could fall to that. He was handsome and given to rough charms. Even now she smiled at the thought of Ike. She could just see it now, that first night in the mess hall. There was food on his face and Soren beside him, Soren rolling his eyes and wiping the food away before pushing his food aside. In retrospect she should’ve seen, should’ve understood. It was glaring in these remembrances.
The second and third she had loved equally. They were her everything, the parts of her equation. They were her past, her future, her present.
“It’s getting cold, Queen Elincia. Please come in.”
A voice drew Elincia out from her reverie. She had barely felt the chill. The moon glowed a golden color, drawing out from a frill of clouds surrounding it. In this light, Lucia was hauntingly beautiful. Slender and stately, the shorn hair only accentuated her face.
“I’m sorry, Lucia, I was just... thinking.”
She was flooded with memories: summers spent stargazing, Lucia’s hand in hers, every dancing lesson that Geoffrey was too clumsy for or shared night of whispers. She remembered holding Lucia’s hair in her fingers and shaking, feeling as if those strands were Lucia’s essence. She could feel the hangman’s noose about her as if it was her on trial, her about to die there.
They’d survived on and won the war. A queen and her lady swordsman, a queen and her knight. The equation was skewed, unbalanced. She loved them equally, as much as was physically possible.
“Soon I’ll be married, and you...you’ll be too,” she said.
“I will never marry,” Lucia said.
“Oh, you say that now, but Lord Bastian will ask, surely.”
“And I will refuse him,” Lucia replied.
“And he will continue to ask you every day, each time growing more elegant. This is Lord Bastian we’re speaking of.”
“And I will make sure to refuse every one.”
They chuckled, and the gloom of the moment fell back. But like waves and tides, the melancholy resumed and flooded over them both.
Lucia knew. Elincia knew. There could only be once choice.
“It all seems so different since then...” Elincia said.
The memories are golden and without fault. Their fingers black with char, their hair full of flowers. Geoffrey practicing his lance, Lucia and Elincia crossing swords. She had wanted it to last forever, for mama and papa to visit and tell stories of a court she would some day visit in glory, not tragedy.
“It will be the same as always, Queen Elincia,” Lucia said with utter calmness. Elincia wondered if her heart held that same calm.
“I couldn’t bear it if I lost either of you. Both of you are so precious to me,” Elincia said.
But a choice must be made.
“It won’t. I’ll be here...always,” Lucia said.
Elincia loved three people in her life but only two loved her more than life itself. But she could only choose one. She loves me, she loves me not, petals fell and one name was left.
A knight to wed the queen. A lady swordsman to be left asunder. Life played its cards and at times one could only play along. She imagined a scene, a bride, and a veil being lifted. The person she wed, the one who lifted her veil and smiled back with love had blue hair.
One held a look of bliss, of euphoria, another a steely, carefully blank glance.
Which one? They were interchangeable. She loved each without ceasing. She loved them both.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-04-13 12:09 am (UTC)Also where do you live, again?
no subject
Date: 2009-04-13 12:39 am (UTC)