[Fire Emblem 7] On Love
Jul. 2nd, 2011 02:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreOn Love
Author:myaru
Fandom: Fire Emblem 7
Prompt: poetry
Word Count: 693
Warnings: the title doesn't mean what you think it means. :P
Notes: sorry Tennyson, this was the first thing that came to mind!
...........................................................................................
Winters in Cornwell weren't particularly cold, but Lucius never felt particularly warm, perhaps thanks to dozens of chill, sleepless nights spent huddled with other children while snow fell soft and silent upon the Etrurian countryside. Those nights sank into his bones. He knew it would rain before clouds blotted the blue sky above Cornwell, and did not need to hear the cacophony upon the roof to know it had turned to sleet while he sat in a drawing room with Lord Raymond, bundled in two layers of robes and trousers and the blue coverlet from his bed. His chair sat as close to the fire as he could safely move, and he drew up his legs, propped his study primer against his knees to read along.
"I hate this," Raymond said, glaring at his book as if it were their tutor. "Mother loves poetry - let her read it."
He'd go outside in a heartbeat, no doubt. Lucius shuddered and caught his book when it slipped. "If we don't learn it--" He paused. Raymond didn't care much for the idea of journeying to Etruria when he came of age, so that argument wouldn't hold water. "Your lady mother said bladework would be postponed until this lesson was done."
The sound of Raymond's teeth grinding joined the pop and snap of the fire. "I'm not going to be a poet when I grow up, am I? Do romantic, curlicue sentences fill out the account books?"
"But it's a respected form in Etruria, and eventually--"
"You hate Etruria."
No. No he didn't. He just didn't want to go back. "I think she meant it, my Lord."
"Bah."
He sounded like his father. Lucius looked down at his own hand-written lines, all the long tails slanting slightly forward. The ink was still fragrant. The priests at his orphanage always smelled of ink and damp parchment, for they copied books, manuscripts, records, to supplement the monastery's income, and it lingered worst at their fingertips, always stained blue. He'd never liked it.
"She seem'd a part of joyous Spring," Raymond quoted, his tone cynical. "A gown of grass-green silk she wore, buckled with golden clasps before-- what does it matter, anyway? I don't give a hot damn what she's wearing, and three quarters of this poem is imagery. Unnecessary imagery," he said before Lucius could cut in with something from their notes. Raymond snapped his primer shut. "It's all about kissing in the end."
Lucius resisted the temptation to sigh. Raymond was only thirteen. "I suppose it is about love, hence the dwelling on her beauty," Lucius said. He was not himself much older, so perhaps blaming his companion's immaturity on age was unfair. But he couldn't shake the memory of questioning in the dark - nor of the stinging slap to the hand such often earned where he grew up. "The comparisons to maiden spring are really about her loveliness."
"Hmmoomph," Raymond said into his hand. He leaned on the arm of his chair and slanted his gaze sideways. "Should I compare you to maiden spring?"
Heat flushed Lucius's cheeks, and he narrowed his eyes when that inspired a grin. "Very well, Lord Raymond." He let his feet slide down to the floor with a thump, lifting his chin. "I will tell the mistress you are not interested in poetry or bladework today. Maybe tomorrow."
"You wouldn't dare."
Lucius got up and marched to the door, refusing to look back. This always worked. Always.
Raymond scrambled from his chair. "Lucius! No wait! Lucius!"
He'd draw it out long as he could for that jab.
..........................................................................
Poetry excerpts from Tennyson's fragment of "Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere."
Not sure I like this interpretation of their childhood relationship, especially since Lucius comes off here as a bit too old. Of course, we know jack about what they were like before the game, so anything goes, but... I don't know yet what I really think of it.
Originally I was going to do Mildain and Percival for this prompt, but that seemed too obvious. I can still do it later. :D
.
Author:
myaruFandom: Fire Emblem 7
Prompt: poetry
Word Count: 693
Warnings: the title doesn't mean what you think it means. :P
Notes: sorry Tennyson, this was the first thing that came to mind!
...........................................................................................
Winters in Cornwell weren't particularly cold, but Lucius never felt particularly warm, perhaps thanks to dozens of chill, sleepless nights spent huddled with other children while snow fell soft and silent upon the Etrurian countryside. Those nights sank into his bones. He knew it would rain before clouds blotted the blue sky above Cornwell, and did not need to hear the cacophony upon the roof to know it had turned to sleet while he sat in a drawing room with Lord Raymond, bundled in two layers of robes and trousers and the blue coverlet from his bed. His chair sat as close to the fire as he could safely move, and he drew up his legs, propped his study primer against his knees to read along.
"I hate this," Raymond said, glaring at his book as if it were their tutor. "Mother loves poetry - let her read it."
He'd go outside in a heartbeat, no doubt. Lucius shuddered and caught his book when it slipped. "If we don't learn it--" He paused. Raymond didn't care much for the idea of journeying to Etruria when he came of age, so that argument wouldn't hold water. "Your lady mother said bladework would be postponed until this lesson was done."
The sound of Raymond's teeth grinding joined the pop and snap of the fire. "I'm not going to be a poet when I grow up, am I? Do romantic, curlicue sentences fill out the account books?"
"But it's a respected form in Etruria, and eventually--"
"You hate Etruria."
No. No he didn't. He just didn't want to go back. "I think she meant it, my Lord."
"Bah."
He sounded like his father. Lucius looked down at his own hand-written lines, all the long tails slanting slightly forward. The ink was still fragrant. The priests at his orphanage always smelled of ink and damp parchment, for they copied books, manuscripts, records, to supplement the monastery's income, and it lingered worst at their fingertips, always stained blue. He'd never liked it.
"She seem'd a part of joyous Spring," Raymond quoted, his tone cynical. "A gown of grass-green silk she wore, buckled with golden clasps before-- what does it matter, anyway? I don't give a hot damn what she's wearing, and three quarters of this poem is imagery. Unnecessary imagery," he said before Lucius could cut in with something from their notes. Raymond snapped his primer shut. "It's all about kissing in the end."
Lucius resisted the temptation to sigh. Raymond was only thirteen. "I suppose it is about love, hence the dwelling on her beauty," Lucius said. He was not himself much older, so perhaps blaming his companion's immaturity on age was unfair. But he couldn't shake the memory of questioning in the dark - nor of the stinging slap to the hand such often earned where he grew up. "The comparisons to maiden spring are really about her loveliness."
"Hmmoomph," Raymond said into his hand. He leaned on the arm of his chair and slanted his gaze sideways. "Should I compare you to maiden spring?"
Heat flushed Lucius's cheeks, and he narrowed his eyes when that inspired a grin. "Very well, Lord Raymond." He let his feet slide down to the floor with a thump, lifting his chin. "I will tell the mistress you are not interested in poetry or bladework today. Maybe tomorrow."
"You wouldn't dare."
Lucius got up and marched to the door, refusing to look back. This always worked. Always.
Raymond scrambled from his chair. "Lucius! No wait! Lucius!"
He'd draw it out long as he could for that jab.
..........................................................................
Poetry excerpts from Tennyson's fragment of "Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere."
Not sure I like this interpretation of their childhood relationship, especially since Lucius comes off here as a bit too old. Of course, we know jack about what they were like before the game, so anything goes, but... I don't know yet what I really think of it.
Originally I was going to do Mildain and Percival for this prompt, but that seemed too obvious. I can still do it later. :D
.