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Entry tags:
fic: A Handmaid's Tale
Title: A Handmaid's Tale
Fandom: FE10 AU
Character/Pairing: Pelleas/Micaiah
Rating: PG-13 on premise alone.
Wordcount: 1247
A/N:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
52_flavours 12 ) Move through smoke and mirrors | an au where Micaiah is Pelleas’ handmaiden – except he doesn’t quite realize what Izuka picked her for. It feels like it could be part of a larger arc, but this is all I’ve got. This could almost be called The Pawn King: Idealistic Version, actually. The title is borrowed from a novel by the same name by Margaret Atwood.
Merry Christmas,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
runespoor7 (even though you're in Batland lately~)
She had many choices, and while Micaiah did not let fate take her to its whims, she could no longer ignore the growing problems. They were a tattered bunch and the numbers were too great. Edward was scarred, Nolan had almost lost use of his left arm.
The Prince’s retainer, a black-cloaked, came to her and picked her right out from the village from all the other girls. She would serve her future king in every way possible, and from his bedside, perhaps she could sway the path from destruction.
.
*
From the first moment he had seen her, Pelleas hadn't been able to keep his eyes off of her. He turned into a blushing, stammering schoolboy. He ignored ladies, (or at least failed to see them) in her presence, ignored his duties and seemed to float to some place far more idealistic wherever her foot tread.
His first days were not easy, to say the least.
*
She had a plan. She dabbed perfume 'borrowed' from a some lady's room by Sothe at the hollow of her neck, between her breasts, and other choice spots. She slipped into something filmy and sheer, and studied herself in the vanity. She looked more ghost than seductress. Oh well.
.Each step to his room was long, soundless and numb. She knocked at the door. It took three hard knocks for the door was made of thick rough wood that left marks at the back of her hand. She cradled it as he answered. The prince was still dressed, though his cloak had been taken off. He brightened at the sight of her.
"Micaiah–! Was there something you needed? This is rather a late time to be calling."
He noticed her hand, and looked concerned. "Are you quite alright?"
"I'm fine..the door is just thick, is all. I thought you might need me. Are you cold, my king?”
"I’m sorry? No, there’s several blankets. I won’t freeze. But are you alright? That nightdress is far too thin for weather like this."
"But..I am to attend your chambers," she said, pressing on.
"You wish to sleep..in here? But there’s only one bed," Pelleas said apologetically.
"Prince Pelleas, I am meant to warm it," she said pointedly.
"Hmm, no, that wouldn’t do at all. I’ll sleep on the floor."
"...Prince Pelleas, you can’t sleep on the floor."
"Oh no, it’s not very cold. I’m sure there’s spare blankets, it wouldn’t be trouble at all.. I wouldn’t want to hurt your honor," Pelleas said.
She had never met a noble quite like him. He had no trace of the superior, narcissistic attitude and even if he had been raised in less humble means, she doubted it would’ve changed him. He was too kind, especially for a kingdom like Daein. In Crimea he could’ve lived happily, he could have survived but in Daein his days were numbered.
"You’re a prince. You shouldn’t be opening doors for me or taking out my seat when I come at the table – and I shouldn’t be eating at the main table either. I am a servant, I should be opening them for you."
"Er, you’re right. I am one. I keep forgetting this, it’s all so sudden–" Pelleas looked at the floor. He looked up again and bit his lip apologetically.
"Prince Pelleas, did your retainer ever explain what I– What I was hired for?"
"Hmm? Izuka said you’d help me with things. He mentioned things like undressing and keeping my bed warm but I’d never ask such a thing of you. Really, being a noble is harder than I thought, to need someone to lay out your clothes..." He shook his head. "Dressing myself is one thing I can do at least."
He was so untouched and so innocent. It would be painful to see him lose the rosy tint which he saw the world in. In a place like Daein, it wouldn't be long. There was subterfuge under every table, hidden knives in dresscoats, and bodices. Daein had a record of assassination. A boy like him would barely last the day.
"I’m commanded to stay in your quarters and serve you," she said.
"But isn’t their some adjoining room you could stay in?" Pelleas said. His voice took on a pleading note. "I mean, you are very beautiful but I wouldn’t think of ever besmirching your honor. I mean I-I would never do something like that But– People talk."
“The bed is large,” she said.
“It’s enough to fit almost half the orphanage I stayed in,” Pelleas said sadly.
"Then it is large enough for us to share it without ever even brushing accidentally. I am a servant; no one will ask if I stay where I am assigned."
"Well..."
She leaned close, her breath against the skin of his neck. He flushed and began to stammer.
"I mean to keep you safe. People plot against you."
His eyes widened in a frozen prey manner. He was like a deer, gentle and helpless to the wolves that would come.
"It's very dangerous here. I am your ally," she said, continuing on. Her hand was on his arm, calming where his hand had begun to shake.
"It's never that easy, is it?" Pelleas said. He sounded so weary.
"No, it never is," she replied.
"W-well...come in then," Pelleas said. "It's a bit messy, I'm sorry. I was undressing for bed."
Micaiah stepped in and surveyed around her. A room of a king. Bear rugs and mounted kills, all which must have been distasteful to Pelleas. How could a gentle boy like Pelleas be the spawn of Ashnard The Bloody?
Perhaps it was in the raising – but then, would the bloodlust linger in his veins, intrinsic and waiting for the most opportune to peel back his gentle nature and strike?
She would sway him so that there would never be a tyrant as long as she lived. She leaned up to stroke his cheek as he fiddled with the lacings on his shirt.
"You can trust me," she said.
"It's..a good thing to know," he said. He tried to smile, despite the growing nervousness. Then she embraced him, her head laid against his chest, silver hair falling over him.
"I will protect you and keep you from them I have people who work with me. They will watch you and keep the assassins at bay. I came here just for you. Do you understand?"
Pelleas swallowed, and took a moment before responding. "I think so."
"Good. You have nothing to fear as long as I am with you."
Pelleas' shaking stilled, and he buried his head against her, to her hair.
"I trust you," he said against her.
"There's really only thing to be said, then."
"What...what is that?" Pelleas asked.
"Which side of the bed do you want to sleep on, my prince?" she said with a smile.
Fandom: FE10 AU
Character/Pairing: Pelleas/Micaiah
Rating: PG-13 on premise alone.
Wordcount: 1247
A/N:
52_flavours 12 ) Move through smoke and mirrors | an au where Micaiah is Pelleas’ handmaiden – except he doesn’t quite realize what Izuka picked her for. It feels like it could be part of a larger arc, but this is all I’ve got. This could almost be called The Pawn King: Idealistic Version, actually. The title is borrowed from a novel by the same name by Margaret Atwood.Merry Christmas,
runespoor7 (even though you're in Batland lately~)She had many choices, and while Micaiah did not let fate take her to its whims, she could no longer ignore the growing problems. They were a tattered bunch and the numbers were too great. Edward was scarred, Nolan had almost lost use of his left arm.
The Prince’s retainer, a black-cloaked, came to her and picked her right out from the village from all the other girls. She would serve her future king in every way possible, and from his bedside, perhaps she could sway the path from destruction.
.
*
From the first moment he had seen her, Pelleas hadn't been able to keep his eyes off of her. He turned into a blushing, stammering schoolboy. He ignored ladies, (or at least failed to see them) in her presence, ignored his duties and seemed to float to some place far more idealistic wherever her foot tread.
His first days were not easy, to say the least.
*
She had a plan. She dabbed perfume 'borrowed' from a some lady's room by Sothe at the hollow of her neck, between her breasts, and other choice spots. She slipped into something filmy and sheer, and studied herself in the vanity. She looked more ghost than seductress. Oh well.
.Each step to his room was long, soundless and numb. She knocked at the door. It took three hard knocks for the door was made of thick rough wood that left marks at the back of her hand. She cradled it as he answered. The prince was still dressed, though his cloak had been taken off. He brightened at the sight of her.
"Micaiah–! Was there something you needed? This is rather a late time to be calling."
He noticed her hand, and looked concerned. "Are you quite alright?"
"I'm fine..the door is just thick, is all. I thought you might need me. Are you cold, my king?”
"I’m sorry? No, there’s several blankets. I won’t freeze. But are you alright? That nightdress is far too thin for weather like this."
"But..I am to attend your chambers," she said, pressing on.
"You wish to sleep..in here? But there’s only one bed," Pelleas said apologetically.
"Prince Pelleas, I am meant to warm it," she said pointedly.
"Hmm, no, that wouldn’t do at all. I’ll sleep on the floor."
"...Prince Pelleas, you can’t sleep on the floor."
"Oh no, it’s not very cold. I’m sure there’s spare blankets, it wouldn’t be trouble at all.. I wouldn’t want to hurt your honor," Pelleas said.
She had never met a noble quite like him. He had no trace of the superior, narcissistic attitude and even if he had been raised in less humble means, she doubted it would’ve changed him. He was too kind, especially for a kingdom like Daein. In Crimea he could’ve lived happily, he could have survived but in Daein his days were numbered.
"You’re a prince. You shouldn’t be opening doors for me or taking out my seat when I come at the table – and I shouldn’t be eating at the main table either. I am a servant, I should be opening them for you."
"Er, you’re right. I am one. I keep forgetting this, it’s all so sudden–" Pelleas looked at the floor. He looked up again and bit his lip apologetically.
"Prince Pelleas, did your retainer ever explain what I– What I was hired for?"
"Hmm? Izuka said you’d help me with things. He mentioned things like undressing and keeping my bed warm but I’d never ask such a thing of you. Really, being a noble is harder than I thought, to need someone to lay out your clothes..." He shook his head. "Dressing myself is one thing I can do at least."
He was so untouched and so innocent. It would be painful to see him lose the rosy tint which he saw the world in. In a place like Daein, it wouldn't be long. There was subterfuge under every table, hidden knives in dresscoats, and bodices. Daein had a record of assassination. A boy like him would barely last the day.
"I’m commanded to stay in your quarters and serve you," she said.
"But isn’t their some adjoining room you could stay in?" Pelleas said. His voice took on a pleading note. "I mean, you are very beautiful but I wouldn’t think of ever besmirching your honor. I mean I-I would never do something like that But– People talk."
“The bed is large,” she said.
“It’s enough to fit almost half the orphanage I stayed in,” Pelleas said sadly.
"Then it is large enough for us to share it without ever even brushing accidentally. I am a servant; no one will ask if I stay where I am assigned."
"Well..."
She leaned close, her breath against the skin of his neck. He flushed and began to stammer.
"I mean to keep you safe. People plot against you."
His eyes widened in a frozen prey manner. He was like a deer, gentle and helpless to the wolves that would come.
"It's very dangerous here. I am your ally," she said, continuing on. Her hand was on his arm, calming where his hand had begun to shake.
"It's never that easy, is it?" Pelleas said. He sounded so weary.
"No, it never is," she replied.
"W-well...come in then," Pelleas said. "It's a bit messy, I'm sorry. I was undressing for bed."
Micaiah stepped in and surveyed around her. A room of a king. Bear rugs and mounted kills, all which must have been distasteful to Pelleas. How could a gentle boy like Pelleas be the spawn of Ashnard The Bloody?
Perhaps it was in the raising – but then, would the bloodlust linger in his veins, intrinsic and waiting for the most opportune to peel back his gentle nature and strike?
She would sway him so that there would never be a tyrant as long as she lived. She leaned up to stroke his cheek as he fiddled with the lacings on his shirt.
"You can trust me," she said.
"It's..a good thing to know," he said. He tried to smile, despite the growing nervousness. Then she embraced him, her head laid against his chest, silver hair falling over him.
"I will protect you and keep you from them I have people who work with me. They will watch you and keep the assassins at bay. I came here just for you. Do you understand?"
Pelleas swallowed, and took a moment before responding. "I think so."
"Good. You have nothing to fear as long as I am with you."
Pelleas' shaking stilled, and he buried his head against her, to her hair.
"I trust you," he said against her.
"There's really only thing to be said, then."
"What...what is that?" Pelleas asked.
"Which side of the bed do you want to sleep on, my prince?" she said with a smile.