fic: around an empty grave
Jul. 9th, 2011 06:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: around an empty grave
Series: FE6
Character/pairing: Percival/Mildain
Rating: PG
Word count: 607
Author's Note:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
comment_fic: Percival/Elphin, around an empty grave. raphien asked for this with the theme of devotion. So she gets an angsty prelude to the blindsex prompt I was going to write. Title and prompt were from a Soseki Natsume short story. There's spoilers for Elphin's path.
The world is dark around him, though the sun beats down. It must be hot under Percival's armor. He's never thought of this before, certainly not before when the thought simply would've made him laugh and make a remark about Percival being hot under the collar.
"You should take it off, Percival," Mildain says. It's almost coy. He knows Percival well enough to guess every gesture. Percival will be looking to him. Watching him like all life revolves around him.
"I cannot," he says.
"Not even for me?" Mildain asks. It's supposed to be the same coy games as they played when they were younger, but there is a bitter edge to it.
"When we are in a safer area, milord. Thieves are known to trespass on the graveyards, even the royal one."
"We're here, then?"
"This is the place," Percival says solemnly. Mildain reaches and feels. The grass still hasn't grown over. A stone lays not far off. He cannot read the words with his fingers. He remembers games of hide and go seek, and hiding behind the obsidian stone of his great, great, great grandfather who was an occultist and quite the magician.
How long ago that seems, now.
Mildain looks on with sightless eyes. The sun is warm against his face. The breeze teases his hair. He knows that Percival must be studying him now. He can feel his gaze, as hot as the sun upon his face.
"You should smile for once," he says.
"I stopped smiling when you were buried there," Percival says.
"But I wasn't," Mildain says, nonchalantly. "It was some other poor sop who lays where I should be."
"But a part of me was..." Percival says.
He bends and lifts the earth he was supposed to be interred in between his fingers. It falls, grainy, cool and faintly moist from the night's rain. What does the words say, he wonders. Her lies our beloved prince, or here lies Mildain, Prince of Etruria. He will be missed.
As a child he thought of what people would think when he died, like any petulant youth being punished. He never envisioned this great a devotion–that his father and knight's lives would collapse without him there.
He stands up and brushes the dirt from his hands. He leaves flowers for the ones who died that day: a golden child, a playful boy-prince who was spoiled and loved by all, and his devoted guardian.
"Let's go back," Mildain sighs. The excursion has tired him. Most things do, these days. The poison has seeped into his bones, left him with lasting effects. His sight, his stamina, even his sense of humor and innocence. Perhaps they are small prices to pay for what everyone else has lost.
He takes Percival's offered hand, unsteadily walking a few steps until Mildain feels himself being lifted up into Percival's strong embace.
"You don't have to, Percival. I'm not so tired that I can't walk.."
"I did it for my sake, my prince," Percival says.
The world is grey and dark, but will Percival never his side. He is his eyes, his right hand, his enforcer and guardian. He closes his eyes. There isn't much difference, just a pattern of dark and slightly darker.
Series: FE6
Character/pairing: Percival/Mildain
Rating: PG
Word count: 607
Author's Note:
comment_fic: Percival/Elphin, around an empty grave. raphien asked for this with the theme of devotion. So she gets an angsty prelude to the blindsex prompt I was going to write. Title and prompt were from a Soseki Natsume short story. There's spoilers for Elphin's path.The world is dark around him, though the sun beats down. It must be hot under Percival's armor. He's never thought of this before, certainly not before when the thought simply would've made him laugh and make a remark about Percival being hot under the collar.
"You should take it off, Percival," Mildain says. It's almost coy. He knows Percival well enough to guess every gesture. Percival will be looking to him. Watching him like all life revolves around him.
"I cannot," he says.
"Not even for me?" Mildain asks. It's supposed to be the same coy games as they played when they were younger, but there is a bitter edge to it.
"When we are in a safer area, milord. Thieves are known to trespass on the graveyards, even the royal one."
"We're here, then?"
"This is the place," Percival says solemnly. Mildain reaches and feels. The grass still hasn't grown over. A stone lays not far off. He cannot read the words with his fingers. He remembers games of hide and go seek, and hiding behind the obsidian stone of his great, great, great grandfather who was an occultist and quite the magician.
How long ago that seems, now.
Mildain looks on with sightless eyes. The sun is warm against his face. The breeze teases his hair. He knows that Percival must be studying him now. He can feel his gaze, as hot as the sun upon his face.
"You should smile for once," he says.
"I stopped smiling when you were buried there," Percival says.
"But I wasn't," Mildain says, nonchalantly. "It was some other poor sop who lays where I should be."
"But a part of me was..." Percival says.
He bends and lifts the earth he was supposed to be interred in between his fingers. It falls, grainy, cool and faintly moist from the night's rain. What does the words say, he wonders. Her lies our beloved prince, or here lies Mildain, Prince of Etruria. He will be missed.
As a child he thought of what people would think when he died, like any petulant youth being punished. He never envisioned this great a devotion–that his father and knight's lives would collapse without him there.
He stands up and brushes the dirt from his hands. He leaves flowers for the ones who died that day: a golden child, a playful boy-prince who was spoiled and loved by all, and his devoted guardian.
"Let's go back," Mildain sighs. The excursion has tired him. Most things do, these days. The poison has seeped into his bones, left him with lasting effects. His sight, his stamina, even his sense of humor and innocence. Perhaps they are small prices to pay for what everyone else has lost.
He takes Percival's offered hand, unsteadily walking a few steps until Mildain feels himself being lifted up into Percival's strong embace.
"You don't have to, Percival. I'm not so tired that I can't walk.."
"I did it for my sake, my prince," Percival says.
The world is grey and dark, but will Percival never his side. He is his eyes, his right hand, his enforcer and guardian. He closes his eyes. There isn't much difference, just a pattern of dark and slightly darker.
