[June 20] [Fire Emblem] Disappear Quietly
Jun. 20th, 2008 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreDisappear Quietly
Author: Amber Michelle
Day/Theme: June 20 - enchantment passing through
Series: Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn
Character/Pairing: Hetzel, Rafiel
Rating: K
Words: 1080
Notes: This turned into a vignette. I'd planned something different and a little more fact-based. :P
Also, haha, unedited! I will edit tomorrow when I'm awake. If I do it now, it'll be worse off than it is already. Trust me, I know these things.
.............................................
Hetzel was a patient man. It was age, he thought, rather than wisdom - the weight of years had shown him the urgency with which his younger contemporaries lived would not make time flow more slowly. Patience stayed his hand when Valtome and Oliver waged war at the auction, wasting their money on bribes and inconsequential items, until they walked away with valuable wins but not the prize of the show.
They fancied themselves scholars of all things beautiful, but neither would have had patience enough for a heron. Hetzel knew the moment he saw its soft white wings he had to touch them. He had to twist its golden hair around his fingers to know it was real. He had to release it from its cage.
It refused to speak to him. He knew it had a voice, or it wouldn't be a heron, but it wouldn't even utter a sound when he allowed it out of the cage for the journey home. This isn't kindness. Its gaze was reproachful. The slavers had clipped its flight feathers and left it with no means of escape. Its hands, when Hetzel helped it down from the platform and into a carriage, were so delicately boned, so soft, he thought they would break if he squeezed too hard.
Why had the goddess created such beautiful creatures, only to leave them vulnerable?
The heron refused to eat, and Hetzel couldn't bring himself to force its rosy mouth open. It - he - refused to groom himself, and his hair grew more dry and tangled until the senator was moved to work the knots out with his fingers and oil the strands until they became elastic again. It was just as soft as he'd dreamed it would be, the strands translucent in his hands, with a faint luminescent sheen even in the dark. Why aren't you taking better care of yourself? he asked, taking the heron's hands in his. What if you die?
He would always remember the moment its lashes lifted and its pale eyes fixed on him. They weren't like beorc eyes, or other laguz; they were liquid, a deep and vivid pigment, the pupils a darker shade and dilated. A sliver of moonlight shone past the carriage curtains and splashed across his face. He was all white in the dark.
My name, he said, is Rafiel.
Even Hetzel knew that name. Prince Rafiel. Eldest son, possessed of the most beautiful voice since Ashera walked the earth, embodiment of every good quality attributed to his kind. The wings gave away the heron's royal heritage, but the name left the senator cold.
It was a crime to enslave laguz in Begnion and twice as evil to perpetuate such a practice in Serenes. He knew that when he placed his first bid. Clearly there was no measuring their foolishness, nor, by proxy, his own. The heron clan would be looking for this one. Rafiel would not disappear quietly, even for the short time Hetzel had intended to keep him.
When they reached Asmin there was a missive from Lekain waiting. You had best keep your prize hidden, it said. or you'll have spent your fortune for naught.
They waited for nightfall, then cloaked the heron prince and led him into the manor. A comfortable room had been prepared as per his orders, a tray of fruit and sweets prepared and left on the table, but Rafiel ignored both and curled onto the bed, wings spread and bending over the edge. There was such grace even in the way the prince's knees seemed to buckle and spill him onto the bed that Hetzel waited in the doorway a long time after his guest seemed asleep, watching the moonshadows inch over the great white wings in the shape of the arched windows.
At dawn the prince's hair shone like saffron threads. The ends curled around his fingers, smelling of aspen and rain even when dry. Rafiel made no attempt to help with his care, but Hetzel would let no other handle him. Who knew what insensitive hands would do to his magnificent wings, how they might abrade his virgin skin? It couldn't have ever seen sunlight unfiltered by the forest; an afternoon in the garden, yet another failure to bring the heron from his shell, had left his hands and cheeks pinkened and miserable.
It was when he kindled the lamp to apply salve he realized how drab Rafiel's pallor was beneath the burn. He'd began eating, the healer swore upon his life, yet the prince's complexion was not merely pale - it was white, the shade of corpses drawn from the river, and smudged gray beneath the eyes, at his lips. How could he not notice? Sunlight gilded the heron, aided his deception, and Hetzel, fool that he knew himself, had only noticed the supernatural shine. He almost dropped the unguent when he realized.
Animals, it was said - especially cats, but not limited strictly to them - were possessed by their instincts. Do not show weakness was surely among them, though by nature such was impossible for his kind. Of course he wouldn't have noticed. It wasn't as if Rafiel trusted him.
Hetzel watched over him many nights with his hands folded in his lap. Pleading, praying, it didn't matter. His treasure drooped against the headboard, wilting like a flower beaten by the summer sun, and his wings spread limply over the pillows.
Don't die. Don't die, I'll take you away from here.
Ashera knew, he meant it. Asmin was no place for a heron - Begnion itself was in a rage.
I will send you home. Rafiel's eyes were lidded and dark, unfocused, but they opened. As soon as your wings can carry you, freedom is yours. You have my word.
Had he not been kind? Hetzel hadn't purchased the prince to cage him forever. He only wanted a lock of golden hair to take with him to the grave. It was Lekain's plan that constrained him and brought about this abysmal situation. He was against it from the start. But his voice was weak among the Seven and Sephiran had not been present to help him dissuade the others.
It wasn't his fault. He didn't know until it was too late that his promise was empty. I'm sorry, he wanted to say, but the prince was gone, and the words were lost to his empty room.
...........................................................
This isn't at all what I wanted, but I couldn't just stop. I'll revisit the idea later.
.
Author: Amber Michelle
Day/Theme: June 20 - enchantment passing through
Series: Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn
Character/Pairing: Hetzel, Rafiel
Rating: K
Words: 1080
Notes: This turned into a vignette. I'd planned something different and a little more fact-based. :P
Also, haha, unedited! I will edit tomorrow when I'm awake. If I do it now, it'll be worse off than it is already. Trust me, I know these things.
.............................................
Hetzel was a patient man. It was age, he thought, rather than wisdom - the weight of years had shown him the urgency with which his younger contemporaries lived would not make time flow more slowly. Patience stayed his hand when Valtome and Oliver waged war at the auction, wasting their money on bribes and inconsequential items, until they walked away with valuable wins but not the prize of the show.
They fancied themselves scholars of all things beautiful, but neither would have had patience enough for a heron. Hetzel knew the moment he saw its soft white wings he had to touch them. He had to twist its golden hair around his fingers to know it was real. He had to release it from its cage.
It refused to speak to him. He knew it had a voice, or it wouldn't be a heron, but it wouldn't even utter a sound when he allowed it out of the cage for the journey home. This isn't kindness. Its gaze was reproachful. The slavers had clipped its flight feathers and left it with no means of escape. Its hands, when Hetzel helped it down from the platform and into a carriage, were so delicately boned, so soft, he thought they would break if he squeezed too hard.
Why had the goddess created such beautiful creatures, only to leave them vulnerable?
The heron refused to eat, and Hetzel couldn't bring himself to force its rosy mouth open. It - he - refused to groom himself, and his hair grew more dry and tangled until the senator was moved to work the knots out with his fingers and oil the strands until they became elastic again. It was just as soft as he'd dreamed it would be, the strands translucent in his hands, with a faint luminescent sheen even in the dark. Why aren't you taking better care of yourself? he asked, taking the heron's hands in his. What if you die?
He would always remember the moment its lashes lifted and its pale eyes fixed on him. They weren't like beorc eyes, or other laguz; they were liquid, a deep and vivid pigment, the pupils a darker shade and dilated. A sliver of moonlight shone past the carriage curtains and splashed across his face. He was all white in the dark.
My name, he said, is Rafiel.
Even Hetzel knew that name. Prince Rafiel. Eldest son, possessed of the most beautiful voice since Ashera walked the earth, embodiment of every good quality attributed to his kind. The wings gave away the heron's royal heritage, but the name left the senator cold.
It was a crime to enslave laguz in Begnion and twice as evil to perpetuate such a practice in Serenes. He knew that when he placed his first bid. Clearly there was no measuring their foolishness, nor, by proxy, his own. The heron clan would be looking for this one. Rafiel would not disappear quietly, even for the short time Hetzel had intended to keep him.
When they reached Asmin there was a missive from Lekain waiting. You had best keep your prize hidden, it said. or you'll have spent your fortune for naught.
They waited for nightfall, then cloaked the heron prince and led him into the manor. A comfortable room had been prepared as per his orders, a tray of fruit and sweets prepared and left on the table, but Rafiel ignored both and curled onto the bed, wings spread and bending over the edge. There was such grace even in the way the prince's knees seemed to buckle and spill him onto the bed that Hetzel waited in the doorway a long time after his guest seemed asleep, watching the moonshadows inch over the great white wings in the shape of the arched windows.
At dawn the prince's hair shone like saffron threads. The ends curled around his fingers, smelling of aspen and rain even when dry. Rafiel made no attempt to help with his care, but Hetzel would let no other handle him. Who knew what insensitive hands would do to his magnificent wings, how they might abrade his virgin skin? It couldn't have ever seen sunlight unfiltered by the forest; an afternoon in the garden, yet another failure to bring the heron from his shell, had left his hands and cheeks pinkened and miserable.
It was when he kindled the lamp to apply salve he realized how drab Rafiel's pallor was beneath the burn. He'd began eating, the healer swore upon his life, yet the prince's complexion was not merely pale - it was white, the shade of corpses drawn from the river, and smudged gray beneath the eyes, at his lips. How could he not notice? Sunlight gilded the heron, aided his deception, and Hetzel, fool that he knew himself, had only noticed the supernatural shine. He almost dropped the unguent when he realized.
Animals, it was said - especially cats, but not limited strictly to them - were possessed by their instincts. Do not show weakness was surely among them, though by nature such was impossible for his kind. Of course he wouldn't have noticed. It wasn't as if Rafiel trusted him.
Hetzel watched over him many nights with his hands folded in his lap. Pleading, praying, it didn't matter. His treasure drooped against the headboard, wilting like a flower beaten by the summer sun, and his wings spread limply over the pillows.
Don't die. Don't die, I'll take you away from here.
Ashera knew, he meant it. Asmin was no place for a heron - Begnion itself was in a rage.
I will send you home. Rafiel's eyes were lidded and dark, unfocused, but they opened. As soon as your wings can carry you, freedom is yours. You have my word.
Had he not been kind? Hetzel hadn't purchased the prince to cage him forever. He only wanted a lock of golden hair to take with him to the grave. It was Lekain's plan that constrained him and brought about this abysmal situation. He was against it from the start. But his voice was weak among the Seven and Sephiran had not been present to help him dissuade the others.
It wasn't his fault. He didn't know until it was too late that his promise was empty. I'm sorry, he wanted to say, but the prince was gone, and the words were lost to his empty room.
...........................................................
This isn't at all what I wanted, but I couldn't just stop. I'll revisit the idea later.
.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-15 05:11 am (UTC)First, Hetzel reaction remembered me of Oliver's. But your heron-poetry (lol) is just great. ^^
You're very talented. The pacing, everything... I loved everything. :) And I'm glad there wasn't any concrete slash pairing too.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-15 09:20 pm (UTC)I didn't see any slash potential between Rafiel and Hetzel, to be honest. Hetzel seems to hold him in awe, not really be in love. It's regret and guilt that makes him react to Rafiel the way he does in my opinion. Maybe sympathy too.