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runicloreWatch Her Dreams
Prompt: Sephiran/Zelgius. Dark, brooding defeatist nilhistic almost-gen introspective as they consider the end of the world.
Rating: K+, no porn to be seen anywhere.
Words: 1003
Notes: I said I'd do this too. I am extremely obvious.
.......................................
Sephiran read to the empress until she fell asleep, wrapped in her red velvet shawl with her legs drawn up and her head resting against his arm. She slept to the sound of financial reports instead of fairy tales; she even understood some of them and commented, and gave suggestions, though her lids always drooped and fell closed before an hour of reading had passed. She would sign and stamp the papers with her red ink seal without asking him to finish his explanation, and someday he would have to speak with her about how careless that was. A girl of five years shouldn't be expected to make these judgments on her own, perhaps, but she would grow eventually, and it wasn't his goal to rule in Begnion, merely to maintain enough influence to encourage the senior senators in their schemes.
How old would his empress be when it all ended? Six? Ten? The politics of starting a continental war were difficult to predict. Someone inevitably acted in a way he didn't foresee; how could he have known Ashnard would consider the fortress at Delbray an acceptable loss, when he would surely benefit from keeping it under his power if he intended to make war on Crimea? He would, eventually. History made such inevitable. If he didn't invade Gallia, Begnion would. Or, the peace between Ramon and Caineghis would fracture, and the forests would burn.
He tucked the velvet wrap around Sanaki's arms, picked her up, and carried her to his bed. She curled into a small red ball against his pillows, only relaxing once he covered her with the quilt and her body warmed the fabric. Sephiran found another blanket and folded it over her, because she always felt the cold more sharply than he did, and silk sheets were not meant for warmth. She barely stirred. Her small hand fisted in the pillowcase, her mouth worked.
Sephiran pulled the bed curtains closed and turned his back on her. She was dreaming; he liked to watch her dream, watch her eyes move, imagine what she saw after listening to him drone on about tax collection - numbers? Equations? Honey cakes? And it didn't matter. It didn't matter - whatever she dreamed, it would be over, gone, silenced. Even if he saved her, the world after judgment would be too quiet for her liking. Better to let her die with everyone else.
"Are you well?" Zelgius asked when he left the bedroom, and Sephiran jumped, wrenching the doorknob and twisting his wrist. Lines slashed across the general's forehead. "Is something--"
"Nothing." Sephiran held his hand up for silence and pushed the door open a crack, listening. He heard her turn, the rhythm of her breathing interrupted, and then it resumed. "I forgot you would be here early tonight."
Zelgius left his cloak slung over the arm of a chair and crossed the rug to his side. His hands burned on Sephiran's skin, tan and warm, and the general's grip almost too hard around his wrist to look it over, rotate it, and press for spots that hurt. "You said you wanted to see me," Zelgius said, rubbing their hands together. "You're freezing."
"I did." Sephiran let himself be led to the fireplace. He didn't feel cold. "I'm afraid the reason slipped my mind. I'm sorry."
Zelgius asked him if it had something to do with his transfer to the Central Army, and Sephiran shook his head. It must not matter if he couldn't remember. Maybe he'd just wanted company. The silence in these rooms was heavy when the empress slept and he had only paperwork to occupy the time. His servant was strong, and his frame filled the room, his shadow cast all the way across to the opposite wall. Their hands were so different; it reminded him of Sanaki's hands pressed to his palms, and her frown when she realized how tiny they were, how they barely spanned the distance from his wrist to the base of his fingers.
"Maybe we should place her in someone else's care," Zelgius said.
"No." Sephiran didn't look up to see his expression, looking aside instead, to the fringe of the carpet, the gold and green brocaded design.
He felt Zelgius sigh, and his hands still. "You've grown too fond of her. She will distract--"
"No." Sephiran pulled his hands free and clasped them at his back. The heat of the fire thawed his fingertips and made them tingle.
Lower, almost a whisper, the general said, "We don't have to go through with it."
Sephiran stared at the muscle cording his neck, thought about lifting a hand to touch Zelgius and maybe quiet him. Didn't he know these choices only made the task harder? Tellius deserved to burn. He only wished the goddess's judgment would be as slow and painful as fire burning into flesh, igniting nerve endings and screams, choking them with smoke and ash. The sky should echo with the cries of laguz and beorc, not just the herons.
He looked up and traced the line of his servant's jaw. "You're leaving to subdue the uprising at Salmo tomorrow, aren't you?"
"I'll be fine."
"I know." Zelgius would die too. Sephiran was a fool to let him in so close. He curled his fingers between the tan skin and the black fold of Zelgius's surcoat. It wouldn't be taken amiss if he were a little late; nobody was on time in Sienne. It was easier to draw attention to a new dress or conquest by entering late. "Stay. It's... cold." The fire burned at his back.
Zelgius rubbed the back of his hand. His skin was still warmer. "As you wish."
Prompt: Sephiran/Zelgius. Dark, brooding defeatist nilhistic almost-gen introspective as they consider the end of the world.
Rating: K+, no porn to be seen anywhere.
Words: 1003
Notes: I said I'd do this too. I am extremely obvious.
.......................................
Sephiran read to the empress until she fell asleep, wrapped in her red velvet shawl with her legs drawn up and her head resting against his arm. She slept to the sound of financial reports instead of fairy tales; she even understood some of them and commented, and gave suggestions, though her lids always drooped and fell closed before an hour of reading had passed. She would sign and stamp the papers with her red ink seal without asking him to finish his explanation, and someday he would have to speak with her about how careless that was. A girl of five years shouldn't be expected to make these judgments on her own, perhaps, but she would grow eventually, and it wasn't his goal to rule in Begnion, merely to maintain enough influence to encourage the senior senators in their schemes.
How old would his empress be when it all ended? Six? Ten? The politics of starting a continental war were difficult to predict. Someone inevitably acted in a way he didn't foresee; how could he have known Ashnard would consider the fortress at Delbray an acceptable loss, when he would surely benefit from keeping it under his power if he intended to make war on Crimea? He would, eventually. History made such inevitable. If he didn't invade Gallia, Begnion would. Or, the peace between Ramon and Caineghis would fracture, and the forests would burn.
He tucked the velvet wrap around Sanaki's arms, picked her up, and carried her to his bed. She curled into a small red ball against his pillows, only relaxing once he covered her with the quilt and her body warmed the fabric. Sephiran found another blanket and folded it over her, because she always felt the cold more sharply than he did, and silk sheets were not meant for warmth. She barely stirred. Her small hand fisted in the pillowcase, her mouth worked.
Sephiran pulled the bed curtains closed and turned his back on her. She was dreaming; he liked to watch her dream, watch her eyes move, imagine what she saw after listening to him drone on about tax collection - numbers? Equations? Honey cakes? And it didn't matter. It didn't matter - whatever she dreamed, it would be over, gone, silenced. Even if he saved her, the world after judgment would be too quiet for her liking. Better to let her die with everyone else.
"Are you well?" Zelgius asked when he left the bedroom, and Sephiran jumped, wrenching the doorknob and twisting his wrist. Lines slashed across the general's forehead. "Is something--"
"Nothing." Sephiran held his hand up for silence and pushed the door open a crack, listening. He heard her turn, the rhythm of her breathing interrupted, and then it resumed. "I forgot you would be here early tonight."
Zelgius left his cloak slung over the arm of a chair and crossed the rug to his side. His hands burned on Sephiran's skin, tan and warm, and the general's grip almost too hard around his wrist to look it over, rotate it, and press for spots that hurt. "You said you wanted to see me," Zelgius said, rubbing their hands together. "You're freezing."
"I did." Sephiran let himself be led to the fireplace. He didn't feel cold. "I'm afraid the reason slipped my mind. I'm sorry."
Zelgius asked him if it had something to do with his transfer to the Central Army, and Sephiran shook his head. It must not matter if he couldn't remember. Maybe he'd just wanted company. The silence in these rooms was heavy when the empress slept and he had only paperwork to occupy the time. His servant was strong, and his frame filled the room, his shadow cast all the way across to the opposite wall. Their hands were so different; it reminded him of Sanaki's hands pressed to his palms, and her frown when she realized how tiny they were, how they barely spanned the distance from his wrist to the base of his fingers.
"Maybe we should place her in someone else's care," Zelgius said.
"No." Sephiran didn't look up to see his expression, looking aside instead, to the fringe of the carpet, the gold and green brocaded design.
He felt Zelgius sigh, and his hands still. "You've grown too fond of her. She will distract--"
"No." Sephiran pulled his hands free and clasped them at his back. The heat of the fire thawed his fingertips and made them tingle.
Lower, almost a whisper, the general said, "We don't have to go through with it."
Sephiran stared at the muscle cording his neck, thought about lifting a hand to touch Zelgius and maybe quiet him. Didn't he know these choices only made the task harder? Tellius deserved to burn. He only wished the goddess's judgment would be as slow and painful as fire burning into flesh, igniting nerve endings and screams, choking them with smoke and ash. The sky should echo with the cries of laguz and beorc, not just the herons.
He looked up and traced the line of his servant's jaw. "You're leaving to subdue the uprising at Salmo tomorrow, aren't you?"
"I'll be fine."
"I know." Zelgius would die too. Sephiran was a fool to let him in so close. He curled his fingers between the tan skin and the black fold of Zelgius's surcoat. It wouldn't be taken amiss if he were a little late; nobody was on time in Sienne. It was easier to draw attention to a new dress or conquest by entering late. "Stay. It's... cold." The fire burned at his back.
Zelgius rubbed the back of his hand. His skin was still warmer. "As you wish."
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no subject
Date: 2008-12-17 10:10 am (UTC)Silliness aside, this is very descriptive, emotive and beautiful! Much liked and enjoyed :3
no subject
Date: 2008-12-17 10:22 am (UTC)... although it occurred to me later that spending the first three or four paragraphs on Sanaki might uh, mislead the reader? XD; But if you want angst--!
Thank you. I live to serve~ <3
no subject
Date: 2008-12-18 01:57 am (UTC)Lower, almost a whisper, the general said, "We don't have to go through with it."
I love how you write Zelgius. This line is so revealing of how close he is with Sephiran ; A;
He looked up and traced the line of his servant's jaw.
OMG HAWTNESS
no subject
Date: 2008-12-18 04:22 am (UTC)I prefer to forego the sex usually anyway, if only because I think there are gestures way more intimate. In fic people do it at the drop of a hat almost.