fic: To Keep
Apr. 3rd, 2012 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: To Keep.
Series: Fire Emblem 10
Character: Lucia, Elincia
Pairing: Lucia/Elincia
Rating: PG
Word count: 750
Author's note:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dark_fest: Fire Emblem, Elincia/+Lucia, having to weight the life of a sister/lover against her responsibility to her kingdom
A sister piece to Keepsake. Spoilers for part 2.
Bit of artistic license in the timeline of events, but not strictly AU, just artistic license and compression. Possibly a bit weird, too. Allergy medicine is making me woozy.
Thanks to Joss for the beta.
--
The moment she had found the envelope, she had felt a sense of deep foreboding, as if the paper itself were a curse. There had been no letter in the envelope, but the message was painfully clear. The blue tresses had spilled out, with a bit of rope to match, and she could only look in horror down at her palm. Like a keepsake locket gone horribly wrong, here was a lock of hair to remember.
Now, it was tucked close into her pocket. Orders had been given. Ludveck would surely see retribution for this crime.
Through it all, one thought resounded through her mind:
What have they done to you, Lucia....?
While she had been chided for her naivete before, she was not so naive that she didn't know what happened to captured women. She closed her eyes, a sob caught in her throat. Macabre images sprung unbidden to her, each worse than the last. Rope-burned wrists, unhealed wounds, the stench of blood. Was Ludveck so cruel a man to tear Lucia to pieces to hurt her?
History was filled with stories of mistresses and children killed for the sake of power.
To think that Lucia would be any different would be naive.
*
A choice, rope, oh a choice no one should ever have had to make. A choice she made, as final as the cut of a knife.
And yet....
Words came. Somewhere within her was a strength she had never known was there. She must hold on. She must. She closed her hand about the hair, reminding herself, feeling its softness so deceptive, as if it was just another summer day where she pushed Lucia's hair out of her face, traced her hand against her cheek. Perhaps this would be the last of Lucia she would ever see. Perhaps there would be no more stolen summer kisses under the shade, no longer having the feeling of strength at just having Lucia by her side.
She must be strong. For her people, herself, Lucia.
She would be strong.
Yet, she was queen. A hint of too much sorrow and she will be labeled hysterical, a child queen barely fit to see over a garden party, let alone a kingdom. Too little and she would be labeled a queen with a heart of stone. Just a little more, just a little more, and then what? How could she ever respect herself, knowing she let Lucia die? Long after Lucia's bones were interred, the ghost of the regret would haunt her.
If you die, I will never be happy again. Do you understand?
There was not a day she didn't feel the heaviness of the loss of her parents. Even if she had barely grown to know him, her papa and mama wrote the kindest letters, warm words of promises that one day they would be reunited–only that day never came.
Lucia and Geoffrey and Bastian–they had always been her family, her dearest ones.
Did you know, Lucia? Did you know? You were my favorite. I loved you more than anything. I never told you. Perhaps, now I never will be able to.
Woven bracelets and braids, secrets leaned in and shared in the sphere of girlhood beyond the scope of Geoffrey's awkward politeness. Oh how she loved them both, just in a different fervor, different ways. The guilt tore her up inside, left her speechless to both of her closest ones. So many possible choices to weigh: this one a life would be killed to spare the rest, this one a country would be saved, this one Lucia lives.
There were no dreams of summer days here, just coldness and stone.
But through it all, she knew the answer, the choice.
Even if it means giving up you. But you understand, don't you, Lucia? ...you wouldn't have it any other way, would you....?
She would be strong, even if those summer days turned to winter.
Series: Fire Emblem 10
Character: Lucia, Elincia
Pairing: Lucia/Elincia
Rating: PG
Word count: 750
Author's note:
dark_fest: Fire Emblem, Elincia/+Lucia, having to weight the life of a sister/lover against her responsibility to her kingdomA sister piece to Keepsake. Spoilers for part 2.
Bit of artistic license in the timeline of events, but not strictly AU, just artistic license and compression. Possibly a bit weird, too. Allergy medicine is making me woozy.
Thanks to Joss for the beta.
--
The moment she had found the envelope, she had felt a sense of deep foreboding, as if the paper itself were a curse. There had been no letter in the envelope, but the message was painfully clear. The blue tresses had spilled out, with a bit of rope to match, and she could only look in horror down at her palm. Like a keepsake locket gone horribly wrong, here was a lock of hair to remember.
Now, it was tucked close into her pocket. Orders had been given. Ludveck would surely see retribution for this crime.
Through it all, one thought resounded through her mind:
What have they done to you, Lucia....?
While she had been chided for her naivete before, she was not so naive that she didn't know what happened to captured women. She closed her eyes, a sob caught in her throat. Macabre images sprung unbidden to her, each worse than the last. Rope-burned wrists, unhealed wounds, the stench of blood. Was Ludveck so cruel a man to tear Lucia to pieces to hurt her?
History was filled with stories of mistresses and children killed for the sake of power.
To think that Lucia would be any different would be naive.
*
A choice, rope, oh a choice no one should ever have had to make. A choice she made, as final as the cut of a knife.
And yet....
Words came. Somewhere within her was a strength she had never known was there. She must hold on. She must. She closed her hand about the hair, reminding herself, feeling its softness so deceptive, as if it was just another summer day where she pushed Lucia's hair out of her face, traced her hand against her cheek. Perhaps this would be the last of Lucia she would ever see. Perhaps there would be no more stolen summer kisses under the shade, no longer having the feeling of strength at just having Lucia by her side.
She must be strong. For her people, herself, Lucia.
She would be strong.
Yet, she was queen. A hint of too much sorrow and she will be labeled hysterical, a child queen barely fit to see over a garden party, let alone a kingdom. Too little and she would be labeled a queen with a heart of stone. Just a little more, just a little more, and then what? How could she ever respect herself, knowing she let Lucia die? Long after Lucia's bones were interred, the ghost of the regret would haunt her.
If you die, I will never be happy again. Do you understand?
There was not a day she didn't feel the heaviness of the loss of her parents. Even if she had barely grown to know him, her papa and mama wrote the kindest letters, warm words of promises that one day they would be reunited–only that day never came.
Lucia and Geoffrey and Bastian–they had always been her family, her dearest ones.
Did you know, Lucia? Did you know? You were my favorite. I loved you more than anything. I never told you. Perhaps, now I never will be able to.
Woven bracelets and braids, secrets leaned in and shared in the sphere of girlhood beyond the scope of Geoffrey's awkward politeness. Oh how she loved them both, just in a different fervor, different ways. The guilt tore her up inside, left her speechless to both of her closest ones. So many possible choices to weigh: this one a life would be killed to spare the rest, this one a country would be saved, this one Lucia lives.
There were no dreams of summer days here, just coldness and stone.
But through it all, she knew the answer, the choice.
Even if it means giving up you. But you understand, don't you, Lucia? ...you wouldn't have it any other way, would you....?
She would be strong, even if those summer days turned to winter.
