[Fire Emblem 10] Now or Never
Jan. 17th, 2011 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreNow or Never
Author: Myaru
Game(s): Fire Emblem 10
Character/Pairing: Naesala, Reyson
Rating: T
Word count: 1357
Prompt: Naesala/anyone - "I might like you better if we slept together."
Author's Note: imperfect, especially in the way I flip the mood of the scene, but I'm having so much trouble with these that I don't care right now. Anyway, I always have an excuse for why I don't want to edit. If I feel anal enough I'll pick at it later.
So, huh. Pairings are Naesala/Leanne and one-sided Naesala/Lillia. Implied are several slash pairings, since Naesala's bragging is in question.
The title may be terrible, but it was suggested by a song.
...........................................................................................
"It still isn't the same, Naesala," Reyson said. His wings gathered the moonlight, spreading slightly and flicking against smaller branches. "Maybe it never will be."
There used to be lights illuminating the forest canopy from below, Naesala remembered; pale white and blue ones, made by magical stones that glowed like tiny moons wherever a heron had set up shelter. From their cypress branch just then, where it jutted out from the mountain at the far back of the forest, they could have seen everything - the dwellings in the Vale, the stone buildings holding books and textiles and spun gold, drying fruit and noodles, stores of grain and fragrant cheese. Beneath them, the wine cellars. At the center of the forest, the altar, always lit by something, whether it was the white of magic illumination or blue fire.
Fireflies drifted between trees down by the river, fading in and out of existence. Naesala folded his legs in a meditative pose, scooting against the trunk of their tree to keep his balance, and watched the spots of light drift across the water. "Do you want it to be the same? The whole 'passively accept your fate' thing is part of what got your clan in trouble in the first place." Cicadas and crickets sang. "Doesn't seem like your style."
He knew Reyson looked over at him, and stared down at nothing - at fading stars in the depth of the slow-moving water. "I should hit you for that."
"Lehran will yell at me for breaking your hand."
"That would serve you right." Reyson opened his wing and slapped at Naesala's cheek, but even the longest of his feathers was too soft to sting. "What did you do to make him dislike you so? You must have done something."
Naesala put on a hurt expression just to see the heron prince roll his eyes and watch his mouth turn down. So easy - if he said it out loud, you're so easy, Reyson, he'd end up tackled off the branch with a mouthful of feathers and hair. "He likes me just fine. I happen to know too many of his dirty secrets, that's all."
One of Reyson's brows arched. "Why don't you just sleep with him? Maybe then he'll like you better."
"Already have," Naesala said, and laughed when Reyson's feathers fluffed and he refused to look over again. "He was playing senator for ten years. Of course I paid him a private visit in all that time."
Ugh. Reyson hunched. "Liar."
"He knew Lekain sent me to report on him, so he told me to strip--"
Reyson launched at Naesala and almost took them both over the side. His head snapped back and hit the trunk, but he grabbed Reyson around the waist and wrapped his legs around the branch until the heron prince stopped flapping. The leaves shivered and went still. The cicadas started up again. Naesala tried to think of something clever to say about the prince kneeling between his knees, his hair draping everywhere - over his shoulders, on his wings, over his face - but Reyson's hand clapped over Naesala's mouth before the first word formed.
"You've had all of us, have you." Reyson breathed hot on Naesala's nose. His skin smelled as soft as it looked, as it felt - like fresh water and dew-jeweled clover. "You like telling me that." Naesala arched his back, tried to shift his wings without grinding them against the bark. Reyson leaned on Naesala's shoulder with his other hand - pushed it against the tree, made his teeth grit. "But not Lillia. You never 'had' Lillia."
Naesala's breath caught in his chest without permission. Pressure made it hard to breathe, weight he told himself was just Reyson and the way he was using the leverage of his wings.
That was a long time ago. No, he'd never touched Lillia. He wanted to - he watched her sing from between the trees, watched the winds of the spirits stirred up by her galdrar lift long golden hair from her back and make it shimmer. What a sweet raven child was the first thing she said to him when he was introduced to the royal family, when he offered one of the treasures of Kilvas to her: an orchid of bright purple hue that she said looked just like her favorite butterfly. He saw her wade, naked, into a pool of crystal clear water, the tips of her wings making long, glimmering sunlight paths on the surface, and was just old enough to be affected by the sight.
Nobody ever believed that was an accident. Certainly not Reyson, who accused him of indecency whenever he recalled the incident. His eyes narrowed now, a silvery glint Naesala could barely see because the moon lit him from behind.
"You wanted to court her when you got older, but never did." Reyson's hand lifted, but there was nothing to say. He laid two fingers over Naesala's lips, as if to scold him to silence. "I wonder who was too passive and accepting of his fate. Could it have been you?"
He must have glared, because the skin around Reyson's eyes crinkled, though he didn't smile, and then he used Naesala's shoulder to push up onto his feet. The branch hardly bent under his weight. He considered kicking it, shaking the heron prince off. There were some things you just didn't bring up in the interest of being fair. Did Naesala ever bring up the Oliver incident, the one that left Reyson looking as if he'd been ruffled by five pairs of hands instead of just one? No. Did he ever let on that he knew Tibarn had the balls to tie Reyson down when he was getting too uppity? No.
Naesala settled for a simple response: "And you call me an ass."
Reyson shrugged and spun around on his heel, wings spreading. "Leanne has already waited too long for you. Don't make the same mistake this time."
The leaves shook when he leaped off the branch and angled down to the forest proper, the beat of his wings washing Naesala with cold night air. He watched Reyson glide over the treetops for a while, glowing like a ghost in his pale silks, and then disappear between the branches. Naesala pulled his legs back up, picked bark out of his hair and flicked it away with his fingers. It rattled all the way down between the leaves.
After the war he promised Leanne they could have a place of their own, away from the other tribes. Not too far - just enough for some privacy. Nobody needed irate brothers or nosy hawks peeking in where they had no business spying. But then her father woke up, and it wasn't like Naesala had anything against him, but they'd had words about this before - something about his daughter being too good for a raven slaving under Begnion's yoke. Lorazieh was talking about Lillia when he said that, but how much more possessive would the old bird be now that Leanne was all he had left? But nothing was the same now, Reyson had said. And it was strange, Naesala thought earlier, that he was invited all the way up here just to look at the view and talk about old times.
He got up, and the branch bent and creaked under his weight, but held. There were two lights in the forest now: one a near the center of the forest, another farther off. The moon still hung overhead, so he'd be able to see his way home without running into any surprising trees.
Maybe he'd run into Leanne on the way back. Maybe he should take Reyson's asinine lecture to heart and do something about his promises, for once. Then-- maybe he'd let that bondage story slip. It would serve him right.
.
(Cross-posted at the FE Fest community on LJ.)
Author: Myaru
Game(s): Fire Emblem 10
Character/Pairing: Naesala, Reyson
Rating: T
Word count: 1357
Prompt: Naesala/anyone - "I might like you better if we slept together."
Author's Note: imperfect, especially in the way I flip the mood of the scene, but I'm having so much trouble with these that I don't care right now. Anyway, I always have an excuse for why I don't want to edit. If I feel anal enough I'll pick at it later.
So, huh. Pairings are Naesala/Leanne and one-sided Naesala/Lillia. Implied are several slash pairings, since Naesala's bragging is in question.
The title may be terrible, but it was suggested by a song.
...........................................................................................
"It still isn't the same, Naesala," Reyson said. His wings gathered the moonlight, spreading slightly and flicking against smaller branches. "Maybe it never will be."
There used to be lights illuminating the forest canopy from below, Naesala remembered; pale white and blue ones, made by magical stones that glowed like tiny moons wherever a heron had set up shelter. From their cypress branch just then, where it jutted out from the mountain at the far back of the forest, they could have seen everything - the dwellings in the Vale, the stone buildings holding books and textiles and spun gold, drying fruit and noodles, stores of grain and fragrant cheese. Beneath them, the wine cellars. At the center of the forest, the altar, always lit by something, whether it was the white of magic illumination or blue fire.
Fireflies drifted between trees down by the river, fading in and out of existence. Naesala folded his legs in a meditative pose, scooting against the trunk of their tree to keep his balance, and watched the spots of light drift across the water. "Do you want it to be the same? The whole 'passively accept your fate' thing is part of what got your clan in trouble in the first place." Cicadas and crickets sang. "Doesn't seem like your style."
He knew Reyson looked over at him, and stared down at nothing - at fading stars in the depth of the slow-moving water. "I should hit you for that."
"Lehran will yell at me for breaking your hand."
"That would serve you right." Reyson opened his wing and slapped at Naesala's cheek, but even the longest of his feathers was too soft to sting. "What did you do to make him dislike you so? You must have done something."
Naesala put on a hurt expression just to see the heron prince roll his eyes and watch his mouth turn down. So easy - if he said it out loud, you're so easy, Reyson, he'd end up tackled off the branch with a mouthful of feathers and hair. "He likes me just fine. I happen to know too many of his dirty secrets, that's all."
One of Reyson's brows arched. "Why don't you just sleep with him? Maybe then he'll like you better."
"Already have," Naesala said, and laughed when Reyson's feathers fluffed and he refused to look over again. "He was playing senator for ten years. Of course I paid him a private visit in all that time."
Ugh. Reyson hunched. "Liar."
"He knew Lekain sent me to report on him, so he told me to strip--"
Reyson launched at Naesala and almost took them both over the side. His head snapped back and hit the trunk, but he grabbed Reyson around the waist and wrapped his legs around the branch until the heron prince stopped flapping. The leaves shivered and went still. The cicadas started up again. Naesala tried to think of something clever to say about the prince kneeling between his knees, his hair draping everywhere - over his shoulders, on his wings, over his face - but Reyson's hand clapped over Naesala's mouth before the first word formed.
"You've had all of us, have you." Reyson breathed hot on Naesala's nose. His skin smelled as soft as it looked, as it felt - like fresh water and dew-jeweled clover. "You like telling me that." Naesala arched his back, tried to shift his wings without grinding them against the bark. Reyson leaned on Naesala's shoulder with his other hand - pushed it against the tree, made his teeth grit. "But not Lillia. You never 'had' Lillia."
Naesala's breath caught in his chest without permission. Pressure made it hard to breathe, weight he told himself was just Reyson and the way he was using the leverage of his wings.
That was a long time ago. No, he'd never touched Lillia. He wanted to - he watched her sing from between the trees, watched the winds of the spirits stirred up by her galdrar lift long golden hair from her back and make it shimmer. What a sweet raven child was the first thing she said to him when he was introduced to the royal family, when he offered one of the treasures of Kilvas to her: an orchid of bright purple hue that she said looked just like her favorite butterfly. He saw her wade, naked, into a pool of crystal clear water, the tips of her wings making long, glimmering sunlight paths on the surface, and was just old enough to be affected by the sight.
Nobody ever believed that was an accident. Certainly not Reyson, who accused him of indecency whenever he recalled the incident. His eyes narrowed now, a silvery glint Naesala could barely see because the moon lit him from behind.
"You wanted to court her when you got older, but never did." Reyson's hand lifted, but there was nothing to say. He laid two fingers over Naesala's lips, as if to scold him to silence. "I wonder who was too passive and accepting of his fate. Could it have been you?"
He must have glared, because the skin around Reyson's eyes crinkled, though he didn't smile, and then he used Naesala's shoulder to push up onto his feet. The branch hardly bent under his weight. He considered kicking it, shaking the heron prince off. There were some things you just didn't bring up in the interest of being fair. Did Naesala ever bring up the Oliver incident, the one that left Reyson looking as if he'd been ruffled by five pairs of hands instead of just one? No. Did he ever let on that he knew Tibarn had the balls to tie Reyson down when he was getting too uppity? No.
Naesala settled for a simple response: "And you call me an ass."
Reyson shrugged and spun around on his heel, wings spreading. "Leanne has already waited too long for you. Don't make the same mistake this time."
The leaves shook when he leaped off the branch and angled down to the forest proper, the beat of his wings washing Naesala with cold night air. He watched Reyson glide over the treetops for a while, glowing like a ghost in his pale silks, and then disappear between the branches. Naesala pulled his legs back up, picked bark out of his hair and flicked it away with his fingers. It rattled all the way down between the leaves.
After the war he promised Leanne they could have a place of their own, away from the other tribes. Not too far - just enough for some privacy. Nobody needed irate brothers or nosy hawks peeking in where they had no business spying. But then her father woke up, and it wasn't like Naesala had anything against him, but they'd had words about this before - something about his daughter being too good for a raven slaving under Begnion's yoke. Lorazieh was talking about Lillia when he said that, but how much more possessive would the old bird be now that Leanne was all he had left? But nothing was the same now, Reyson had said. And it was strange, Naesala thought earlier, that he was invited all the way up here just to look at the view and talk about old times.
He got up, and the branch bent and creaked under his weight, but held. There were two lights in the forest now: one a near the center of the forest, another farther off. The moon still hung overhead, so he'd be able to see his way home without running into any surprising trees.
Maybe he'd run into Leanne on the way back. Maybe he should take Reyson's asinine lecture to heart and do something about his promises, for once. Then-- maybe he'd let that bondage story slip. It would serve him right.
.
(Cross-posted at the FE Fest community on LJ.)