fic: Burnin' This City Down
Apr. 22nd, 2009 06:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Burnin’ This City Down
Day/Theme: 4/8 | lit like a burning city
Series: FE6/Fuuin/Sword of Seals
Character/Pairing: Dieck/Rutger
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,158
A/N: Fragmenty fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
searains as a OTP fix for her. She drew me some Percival/Elphin and I paid back with fic. ...actual porn for them should come around sometime soone. Mostly I just wanted hair touching and snark.
1.
They were razin’ through Bern with vengeance on their mind. Dragon Knights or Beserkers, they all fell to the wrath of both their swords. Dieck never had to worry about his back, for Rutger always had it, and nobody was getting past a sword like that.
“You ok back there?” Dieck said. “You didn’t get hit by that last swordslayer, didja?”
“No. They didn’t touch me,” Rutger said. “You’re the one who was too slow.”
“Eh, another scar for the collection,” Dieck said. His shoulder bled through the material. Now it was staining his armor red in the process.
It wasn’t too bad a wound. He’d had worse.
2.
“Your hair’s all tangled,” Dieck said. “Why do you keep it long, anyways? It must get in the way.”
Rutger grimaced. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing, it’s your business if you like looking like a rent boy.”
“Coming from someone who spent last night–”
“Sucking your cock, yeah. I didn’t say it was bad, but with hair like that, you’re broadcasting. You might as well be screaming out ‘I like it up the ass’ to the whole camp.”
Rutger seethed. Dieck could already see him reaching for his Killing Edge. Soon, he’d be brandishing it and demanding some form of sparring.
“Jeez, if you’re going to keep your poof hair, at least don’t let it get all tangled.”
Dieck sat down behind him. Rutger tensed the minute his hands touched the swordman’s back.
“Relax, I’m not going to stick a knife in your back, I’m just fixing your hair.”
Dieck pulled his thick, rough fingers through that burr-tangled hair. Pretty soft for such a jagged guy. It felt even silky.
Rutger muttered a particularly vulgar obscenity. One just so well formed that even Dieck had to sit back and admire it.
“You can take a slash to the chest but you can’t take a bit of hair pulling?” Dieck said.
“Shut up,” Rutger growled. .
“There, it’s all fixed up now. You want a fucking flower braided in?”
Rutger just snorted. He reached back to run his fingers through his new ponytail.
“So it won’t get in the way. I don’t know any fancy braiding. Never needed them.”
Rutger stalked away, sword in hand. Dieck shrugged and returned to the campfire. He turned in early after dinner with no sparring to be done, and his sword already cleaned and oiled for tomorrow’s battle to come.
When he went off to his bedroll, it wasn’t five minutes before he heard the tent flap being cast aside, and the angriest footstep he’d ever heard. Even his footsteps radiated hatred.
Dieck didn’t even have to open his eyes to know who it was. He didn’t lift himself from his reclined position, his hands behind his head.
“Again? What, are you thanking me?” Dieck said.
“Shut up,” Rutger said.
Surely most of the camp knew that he and Rutger were fucking. There wasn’t a way they’d miss it with all those noises he made. Who’d have figured him a screamer. The camp was either too polite to say anything, or simply glad that this was keeping Rutger from killing some of their own.
3.
Rutger was like some creature from the deeps on the battlefield. He sliced through Bern soldiers like hot butter. Blood spray into his face only seemed to enrage him more – and cause him to strike even more critical blows.
Together they’d stayed behind and once taken down an entire group of desert bandits while the rest of the team ran ahead. They’d obliterated the whole lot of them. Dieck had taken a slight hit or two, but Rutger was a beautiful blur of sword and man that combined into the scariest thing the enemies ever saw – and the last thing they ever saw.
He’d done it before, and he did it again. He sat right back and simply watched Rutger tear through the legions of enemy and watch all that terrible deadly beauty in motion.
“Why didn’t you help me?!”
“You didn’t seem to need it,” Dieck said.
Rutger scoffed, but he didn’t say more. All his rage had been momentarily spent, but he’d surely find some more later. Rage and hatred was something that Rutger never ran out of.
As Rutger stalked off to take care of some reinforcements, Dieck followed.
“I’m glad he’s on our side,” Dieck said softly.
4.
Rutger wasn’t satisfied until he took down Bern himself. He’d even sliced up Zephiel before Roy made the final blow. Heroes always had that sort of prize, but Rutger wasn’t about to let his goal out of sight.
The bastard nearly lost an arm over it. Lucky Clarine was there to heal it up. He got a whole new set of scars from that one.
Bern was felled, his family avenged, but vengeance is far less sweet than would seem. It could be a drive, a sense of power, but when it was gone, there was only the empty shell of everything that had been ravaged and razed in the wake of the rage.
Living for vengeance wasn’t much of a life at all.
6.
And then, there was nothing left. Not even rage to fuel him. Rutger drifted, through the camps and fell into silence.
Dieck placed his hand on Rutger’s shoulder. For once, Rutger didn’t shrug it off.
“You should stay with me. I can always use another mercenary. It might not pay the best, but peace never lasts that long. There’s bound to be bandits or some war back eventually.”
Rutger was silent a long moment before he replied.
“You’re asking for me to stay with you?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to be on the other side of your sword,” Dieck said, with a slight chuckle. “I’m not sure if I’d live.”
Rutger’s silence loomed, with only the raspy sound of his breathing, which also managed to be angry.
“Just think about it, alright?”
Rutger didn’t reply.
7.
Rutger didn’t have much to pack. He didn’t have a tent, but he spent so much time in Rutger’s that it was entirely superfluous. And he wasn’t exactly happy and all that rage hadn’t abated, he didn’t want to wage genocide on the entire country of Bern any longer.
He was a good subordinate, not quite a right hand man, more a silent limb, practically a part of Dieck’s own body.
He might leave any day. But for now he wasn’t. They might die tomorrow, but so far they were still alive.
And he still hadn’t cut his hair even if it was in the way.
Day/Theme: 4/8 | lit like a burning city
Series: FE6/Fuuin/Sword of Seals
Character/Pairing: Dieck/Rutger
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,158
A/N: Fragmenty fic for
searains as a OTP fix for her. She drew me some Percival/Elphin and I paid back with fic. ...actual porn for them should come around sometime soone. Mostly I just wanted hair touching and snark.1.
They were razin’ through Bern with vengeance on their mind. Dragon Knights or Beserkers, they all fell to the wrath of both their swords. Dieck never had to worry about his back, for Rutger always had it, and nobody was getting past a sword like that.
“You ok back there?” Dieck said. “You didn’t get hit by that last swordslayer, didja?”
“No. They didn’t touch me,” Rutger said. “You’re the one who was too slow.”
“Eh, another scar for the collection,” Dieck said. His shoulder bled through the material. Now it was staining his armor red in the process.
It wasn’t too bad a wound. He’d had worse.
2.
“Your hair’s all tangled,” Dieck said. “Why do you keep it long, anyways? It must get in the way.”
Rutger grimaced. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing, it’s your business if you like looking like a rent boy.”
“Coming from someone who spent last night–”
“Sucking your cock, yeah. I didn’t say it was bad, but with hair like that, you’re broadcasting. You might as well be screaming out ‘I like it up the ass’ to the whole camp.”
Rutger seethed. Dieck could already see him reaching for his Killing Edge. Soon, he’d be brandishing it and demanding some form of sparring.
“Jeez, if you’re going to keep your poof hair, at least don’t let it get all tangled.”
Dieck sat down behind him. Rutger tensed the minute his hands touched the swordman’s back.
“Relax, I’m not going to stick a knife in your back, I’m just fixing your hair.”
Dieck pulled his thick, rough fingers through that burr-tangled hair. Pretty soft for such a jagged guy. It felt even silky.
Rutger muttered a particularly vulgar obscenity. One just so well formed that even Dieck had to sit back and admire it.
“You can take a slash to the chest but you can’t take a bit of hair pulling?” Dieck said.
“Shut up,” Rutger growled. .
“There, it’s all fixed up now. You want a fucking flower braided in?”
Rutger just snorted. He reached back to run his fingers through his new ponytail.
“So it won’t get in the way. I don’t know any fancy braiding. Never needed them.”
Rutger stalked away, sword in hand. Dieck shrugged and returned to the campfire. He turned in early after dinner with no sparring to be done, and his sword already cleaned and oiled for tomorrow’s battle to come.
When he went off to his bedroll, it wasn’t five minutes before he heard the tent flap being cast aside, and the angriest footstep he’d ever heard. Even his footsteps radiated hatred.
Dieck didn’t even have to open his eyes to know who it was. He didn’t lift himself from his reclined position, his hands behind his head.
“Again? What, are you thanking me?” Dieck said.
“Shut up,” Rutger said.
Surely most of the camp knew that he and Rutger were fucking. There wasn’t a way they’d miss it with all those noises he made. Who’d have figured him a screamer. The camp was either too polite to say anything, or simply glad that this was keeping Rutger from killing some of their own.
3.
Rutger was like some creature from the deeps on the battlefield. He sliced through Bern soldiers like hot butter. Blood spray into his face only seemed to enrage him more – and cause him to strike even more critical blows.
Together they’d stayed behind and once taken down an entire group of desert bandits while the rest of the team ran ahead. They’d obliterated the whole lot of them. Dieck had taken a slight hit or two, but Rutger was a beautiful blur of sword and man that combined into the scariest thing the enemies ever saw – and the last thing they ever saw.
He’d done it before, and he did it again. He sat right back and simply watched Rutger tear through the legions of enemy and watch all that terrible deadly beauty in motion.
“Why didn’t you help me?!”
“You didn’t seem to need it,” Dieck said.
Rutger scoffed, but he didn’t say more. All his rage had been momentarily spent, but he’d surely find some more later. Rage and hatred was something that Rutger never ran out of.
As Rutger stalked off to take care of some reinforcements, Dieck followed.
“I’m glad he’s on our side,” Dieck said softly.
4.
Rutger wasn’t satisfied until he took down Bern himself. He’d even sliced up Zephiel before Roy made the final blow. Heroes always had that sort of prize, but Rutger wasn’t about to let his goal out of sight.
The bastard nearly lost an arm over it. Lucky Clarine was there to heal it up. He got a whole new set of scars from that one.
Bern was felled, his family avenged, but vengeance is far less sweet than would seem. It could be a drive, a sense of power, but when it was gone, there was only the empty shell of everything that had been ravaged and razed in the wake of the rage.
Living for vengeance wasn’t much of a life at all.
6.
And then, there was nothing left. Not even rage to fuel him. Rutger drifted, through the camps and fell into silence.
Dieck placed his hand on Rutger’s shoulder. For once, Rutger didn’t shrug it off.
“You should stay with me. I can always use another mercenary. It might not pay the best, but peace never lasts that long. There’s bound to be bandits or some war back eventually.”
Rutger was silent a long moment before he replied.
“You’re asking for me to stay with you?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to be on the other side of your sword,” Dieck said, with a slight chuckle. “I’m not sure if I’d live.”
Rutger’s silence loomed, with only the raspy sound of his breathing, which also managed to be angry.
“Just think about it, alright?”
Rutger didn’t reply.
7.
Rutger didn’t have much to pack. He didn’t have a tent, but he spent so much time in Rutger’s that it was entirely superfluous. And he wasn’t exactly happy and all that rage hadn’t abated, he didn’t want to wage genocide on the entire country of Bern any longer.
He was a good subordinate, not quite a right hand man, more a silent limb, practically a part of Dieck’s own body.
He might leave any day. But for now he wasn’t. They might die tomorrow, but so far they were still alive.
And he still hadn’t cut his hair even if it was in the way.
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no subject
Date: 2009-04-22 12:23 pm (UTC)oh man. Epic pairing.
The camp was either too polite to say anything, or simply glad that this was keeping Rutger from killing some of their own.
THIS was epic.