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runicloreStand Your Ground
Author: Amber Michelle
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9/10
Pairing: Sephiran/Zelgius
Theme: 27 - first sunlight in the morning ; sunrise
Rating: T
Word count: 775
Notes: I bet you thought I'd come up with another dawn title.
I need a Zelgius icon.
............................................
The quiet woke Zelgius, when he would have liked to sleep. They fled the capitol after Sephiran gave his speech; the senate's troops were almost upon them when he finished, the echo of his voice still ringing in the square, above the roar of the crowd. It might have been the acoustics of the place, or his native vocal skill. The appearance of the imperial guard, swords drawn, threw them into a frenzy. Sephiran wouldn't allow him to use the warp powder, refused to use the rewarp staff - if they see us flee, the people will lose faith in our message. We must stand our ground. Face flushed, lips dry, cracking after days with little water and no food, he turned around and uttered a lyrical spell that blazed from his hands and scattered their opponents. The commons did the rest, trampling the guard underfoot, striking them with books, staves, bare fists. They slipped away in the confusion.
His master collapsed when the warp spell left them at the edge of his grounds in Persis. Zelgius carried him to bed and stripped out of his armor, laying each plate carefully on the floor to avoid making noise. The metal edges scraped the polished flagstones, but Sephiran didn't stir at the sound. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his lashes curved down over his pale cheeks. He only woke enough to be helped out of his clothes when shaken, and his head slanted, dropping to rest on the general's shoulder. Zelgius gave in when his master's hands clung to his shirt laces and pushed the quilt over to shift Sephiran aside and make room for himself.
He was gone when Zelgius opened his eyes the next morning. The blanket was folded back, the sheets rumpled where he'd slept, and a sweet, orange-blossom scent lingered on the air. The doors to the balcony were thrown wide open, a lamp lit and turned low on the table by the bed. Outside, the sky was still dark.
"Out here," came his master's voice, faint.
Zelgius sat up and pushed the covers aside. Persis was never really cold when compared to Daein, but the early morning air always had a crisp, chill quality, no matter where he paused to take it in. Up north it could freeze a person's lungs, and in Sienne it was a hint of winter, even during the hottest months of the year, laden with the smell of burning wood. He rose and went in his shirtsleeves; Sephiran was slender, his robes too small to fit, even in jest.
"The servants have been appraised of the situation," his master said when he reached the threshold. "If your man did as promised, the manor should be secure."
"I'll see to it myself after sunrise." Beyond the high-reaching branches of cypress and the fanning palms, the sky was limned gray and white to the east, and the deep blue above their heads was fading. He watched Sephiran lean on the balustrade, wet hair slipping over his hand, leaving the side of his robe soaked through and clinging to the skin. "Come inside. You exhausted yourself yesterday."
Sephiran twisted to look at him, hip braced against the stone. "I had to bathe." He glanced back to the east. "I don't know how you could stand it."
Zelgius shifted into rest, arm folded back, feet spread. "You haven't visited an army camp recently, it seems."
His master hunched, forehead furrowing. "That is not reassuring."
His lips pulled in a smile, though he tried to suppress it. "You smell like spring blossoms," he said, crossing the balcony to Sephiran's side. The stone was cut rough and sanded down, and it was cold. His toes felt stiff. The silk robe, the skin beneath it, were burning hot to his chilled fingers. "My only thought was to make you comfortable until you recovered. To that end--"
"'Rest?'" The pre-dawn light paled, yellowed, and rimed Sephiran's dark hair like ice. His eyes glinted when his sash loosened and fell, the end wrapped around the general's fingers. "You'll restrain me for my own good?"
Zelgius looped the silk over his hand and drew him back toward the doors. "I live to serve, Master."
The first light of morning gilded Sephiran's lashes, lit his faint smile bright. He stroked Zelgius's cheek with his thin hand, warm fingers. "You are, as always, an unparalleled treasure."
He didn't have his master's gift for words. Their time was almost finished. Zelgius bent down, covered and parted Sephiran's lips with his own, and hoped his silence would say what his voice could not.
Author: Amber Michelle
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9/10
Pairing: Sephiran/Zelgius
Theme: 27 - first sunlight in the morning ; sunrise
Rating: T
Word count: 775
Notes: I bet you thought I'd come up with another dawn title.
I need a Zelgius icon.
............................................
The quiet woke Zelgius, when he would have liked to sleep. They fled the capitol after Sephiran gave his speech; the senate's troops were almost upon them when he finished, the echo of his voice still ringing in the square, above the roar of the crowd. It might have been the acoustics of the place, or his native vocal skill. The appearance of the imperial guard, swords drawn, threw them into a frenzy. Sephiran wouldn't allow him to use the warp powder, refused to use the rewarp staff - if they see us flee, the people will lose faith in our message. We must stand our ground. Face flushed, lips dry, cracking after days with little water and no food, he turned around and uttered a lyrical spell that blazed from his hands and scattered their opponents. The commons did the rest, trampling the guard underfoot, striking them with books, staves, bare fists. They slipped away in the confusion.
His master collapsed when the warp spell left them at the edge of his grounds in Persis. Zelgius carried him to bed and stripped out of his armor, laying each plate carefully on the floor to avoid making noise. The metal edges scraped the polished flagstones, but Sephiran didn't stir at the sound. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his lashes curved down over his pale cheeks. He only woke enough to be helped out of his clothes when shaken, and his head slanted, dropping to rest on the general's shoulder. Zelgius gave in when his master's hands clung to his shirt laces and pushed the quilt over to shift Sephiran aside and make room for himself.
He was gone when Zelgius opened his eyes the next morning. The blanket was folded back, the sheets rumpled where he'd slept, and a sweet, orange-blossom scent lingered on the air. The doors to the balcony were thrown wide open, a lamp lit and turned low on the table by the bed. Outside, the sky was still dark.
"Out here," came his master's voice, faint.
Zelgius sat up and pushed the covers aside. Persis was never really cold when compared to Daein, but the early morning air always had a crisp, chill quality, no matter where he paused to take it in. Up north it could freeze a person's lungs, and in Sienne it was a hint of winter, even during the hottest months of the year, laden with the smell of burning wood. He rose and went in his shirtsleeves; Sephiran was slender, his robes too small to fit, even in jest.
"The servants have been appraised of the situation," his master said when he reached the threshold. "If your man did as promised, the manor should be secure."
"I'll see to it myself after sunrise." Beyond the high-reaching branches of cypress and the fanning palms, the sky was limned gray and white to the east, and the deep blue above their heads was fading. He watched Sephiran lean on the balustrade, wet hair slipping over his hand, leaving the side of his robe soaked through and clinging to the skin. "Come inside. You exhausted yourself yesterday."
Sephiran twisted to look at him, hip braced against the stone. "I had to bathe." He glanced back to the east. "I don't know how you could stand it."
Zelgius shifted into rest, arm folded back, feet spread. "You haven't visited an army camp recently, it seems."
His master hunched, forehead furrowing. "That is not reassuring."
His lips pulled in a smile, though he tried to suppress it. "You smell like spring blossoms," he said, crossing the balcony to Sephiran's side. The stone was cut rough and sanded down, and it was cold. His toes felt stiff. The silk robe, the skin beneath it, were burning hot to his chilled fingers. "My only thought was to make you comfortable until you recovered. To that end--"
"'Rest?'" The pre-dawn light paled, yellowed, and rimed Sephiran's dark hair like ice. His eyes glinted when his sash loosened and fell, the end wrapped around the general's fingers. "You'll restrain me for my own good?"
Zelgius looped the silk over his hand and drew him back toward the doors. "I live to serve, Master."
The first light of morning gilded Sephiran's lashes, lit his faint smile bright. He stroked Zelgius's cheek with his thin hand, warm fingers. "You are, as always, an unparalleled treasure."
He didn't have his master's gift for words. Their time was almost finished. Zelgius bent down, covered and parted Sephiran's lips with his own, and hoped his silence would say what his voice could not.
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Date: 2008-11-30 05:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-30 11:27 pm (UTC)