![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreAll Shades of Blue
Author: Amber Michelle
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9/10
Pairing: Sephiran/Zelgius
Theme: 18 - in the rain
Rating: K
Word count: 1408
Notes: n/a
............................................
It was raining in Sienne when Zelgius returned to his master's side, alone, and the sound of droplets striking the marble steps of the Tower of Guidance and marking the surface of the water around it blended to a dull roar. Rain hammered into his armor. He pulled the helmet off, pushed his fingers through his hair, felt water slip from his face to his neck to trickle behind the plates. Sephiran waited on the bottom step, under the downpour, soaked to the skin and his hair plastered to his head, heavy and gleaming in the enchanted light cast from the doors. They stood open, enough to admit someone of his master's size, and the air smelled of incense when Zelgius approached.
"Soon she will pull the others inside as her last line of defense," his master said when Zelgius reached the stairs. Sephiran lifted his hand to halt him when he moved to kneel. "We'll be unable to move once she does that. How is she?"
Zelgius drew breath to answer - and he paused. Of the two in the desert--
"The Apostle," his master clarified, flicking his green eyes away and downward. "Is she well?"
"She returns every scratch tenfold." Zelgius cast his eyes aside, but saw nothing but the patter of water on the walkway to capture his master's gaze. "I saw no serious injuries, but I could not approach her as I was. Her knights and the raven king guard her from the majority of dangers on the battlefield."
Sephiran's reply was silence, and his face turned eastward to the dull glow of the moon behind the thinning clouds on the horizon. Zelgius had tried more than once to spot the resemblance - to see his master's face in the shape of Micaiah's nose or forehead, or the quintessence of light on the empress's skin, the way it turned softly white in the right light. They were both fine-boned, almost unnaturally so; even the empress was lighter than a girl her age should be, and more fragile. He'd gripped her wrist once to keep her from slipping on a night just like this, when the rain came down with the force of arrows and spears, and the soft flute of her arm bore the mark in blue and purple for almost a week.
Perhaps he simply didn't realize his own strength. In the armor of the Black Knight, he was conscious of every motion, every squeeze of his fingers around the Silver Maiden's hand, because steel multiplied the force of every gesture. She'd never complained.
"When you say things like that," his master's voice came, soft, "she almost reminds me of someone else."
A tingling sensation assaulted the pit of Zelgius's stomach, the sort one felt when falling from a great height, when one's heart choked, leapt into the throat. He gripped Alondite's hilt. "Does she-- " He swallowed. "-- is there a resemblance?"
Sephiran lifted a lock of sopping hair with his fingers and curled it over his ear. It was still round, still human in appearance. "When she was a child..." The rain tamped the resinous incense to the ground, replaced it with the scents of wet grass, pond water from the moat, and wet granite. His master was dressed in black today, his skin pale and corpse-like in the filtered lamplight, slicked wet by the rain. "I used to think there would be. I'm glad there isn't."
Zelgius released his hold on the sword. His gauntlet creaked. The helmet scraped against his breastplate where he held it under one arm, and he wanted to let out a breath, but thought it would be in bad taste to appear relieved. He'd not heard the story until now, until the first night under Ashera's watch, when Sephiran had to be helped out of her chamber to a bench, his limbs trembling. She is not what she used to be, his master said, but he wasn't sorry to have awakened her. Her state of mind didn't matter, as long as she passed judgment.
He expected the goddess to be intimidating. Her hair was long, like fire, and drifted on winds that weren't there. Her eyes were red, blood, and her lips in a perpetual frown. But it was the empress's golden gaze he remembered when he bade her good-bye with a promise to rescue Sephiran from prison - the way eyes shifted, searched him, and made his stomach clench because he thought she knew. What would she do? How would she react? The goddess looked like fire, but Lady Sanaki burned all whom she touched, though her hair flowed behind her like a banner of night sky. She'd fooled him into kissing her once, and his face had not cooled for hours.
"I think I would have to hate her," his master said, "if she resembled Altina."
Zelgius shifted his helmet to the other arm, removed his gauntlet, and led his master up the steps to the protected area under the overhang of the second floor, where the stone was sculpted outward in the shape of leaves. The rain let up slightly, lightened to a mist that drifted with the current of the wind, and listened to the drip drip of water falling from the overhang to splash onto the stone steps, into puddles, and onto his shoulder plates. He gathered his master's hair at the neck with his bare hand and twisted, slowly, until water spilled from the ends and splattered onto the landing. It would have been better for Sephiran to hate her. If he hated Lady Sanaki, he would not neglect himself - he would sleep through the night, and eat regular meals, instead of subsisting on a few bites of apple or peach and disappearing into his chamber on the top floor. There were robes inside with slashes in the back for wings, and their silk shimmered at Zelgius when he stayed the night.
The empress must occupy his thoughts. He refused to show his wings, and left the heron-made robes hanging on their bar so they made a curtain against the unadorned blue stone, white and gray and all shades of blue, embroidered at the edges with silver. Zelgius remembered the way Sephiran would bend to kiss her forehead, the way he smoothed her hair back mornings when he arranged her headband and combed her fringe, how he wouldn't leave her rooms when she was touched with fever until she was well, bathed, fed, and dressed, until she threw him out with orders to do his work - and hers, because she was tired, and he was making a nuisance of himself.
If the empress reached his master, Zelgius would be dead and unable to support him. He would not be there to press his fingers into Sephiran's palm, to catch him when Gawain's son or one of the laguz monarchs struck a blow such that it pushed his slight form back.
She was so worried when she asked Zelgius to rescue him - the empress. She was pale, her knuckles white when she clasped her hands. Don't leave his side, she said. Do you understand? Do not leave his safety to chance - not ever. Don't let anything happen to him. Not a scratch, or I'll finish what Valtome started and see your head removed from your shoulders.
He bowed his head and released his master's hair. She would be too late.
"I take it your mission failed," Sephiran said.
Zelgius looked up. Perhaps it was tears, not rain, that moistened the profile before him. The corners of his master's eyes were wet, but his face was smooth. "The Maiden insisted on staying with her friends," he said, and put his gauntlet back on. The leather creaked. The edge of his helmet clanged on his breastplate when he tugged it on too hard and the leather creased, uneven.
Sephiran looked at him for the first time since his return. Water beaded on his eyelashes and glinted in the light streaming through the door. "You are unharmed?"
"Yes."
His master nodded, placed his slender hand on the wrist not quite covered by the gauntlet, and led him inside.
Author: Amber Michelle
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9/10
Pairing: Sephiran/Zelgius
Theme: 18 - in the rain
Rating: K
Word count: 1408
Notes: n/a
............................................
It was raining in Sienne when Zelgius returned to his master's side, alone, and the sound of droplets striking the marble steps of the Tower of Guidance and marking the surface of the water around it blended to a dull roar. Rain hammered into his armor. He pulled the helmet off, pushed his fingers through his hair, felt water slip from his face to his neck to trickle behind the plates. Sephiran waited on the bottom step, under the downpour, soaked to the skin and his hair plastered to his head, heavy and gleaming in the enchanted light cast from the doors. They stood open, enough to admit someone of his master's size, and the air smelled of incense when Zelgius approached.
"Soon she will pull the others inside as her last line of defense," his master said when Zelgius reached the stairs. Sephiran lifted his hand to halt him when he moved to kneel. "We'll be unable to move once she does that. How is she?"
Zelgius drew breath to answer - and he paused. Of the two in the desert--
"The Apostle," his master clarified, flicking his green eyes away and downward. "Is she well?"
"She returns every scratch tenfold." Zelgius cast his eyes aside, but saw nothing but the patter of water on the walkway to capture his master's gaze. "I saw no serious injuries, but I could not approach her as I was. Her knights and the raven king guard her from the majority of dangers on the battlefield."
Sephiran's reply was silence, and his face turned eastward to the dull glow of the moon behind the thinning clouds on the horizon. Zelgius had tried more than once to spot the resemblance - to see his master's face in the shape of Micaiah's nose or forehead, or the quintessence of light on the empress's skin, the way it turned softly white in the right light. They were both fine-boned, almost unnaturally so; even the empress was lighter than a girl her age should be, and more fragile. He'd gripped her wrist once to keep her from slipping on a night just like this, when the rain came down with the force of arrows and spears, and the soft flute of her arm bore the mark in blue and purple for almost a week.
Perhaps he simply didn't realize his own strength. In the armor of the Black Knight, he was conscious of every motion, every squeeze of his fingers around the Silver Maiden's hand, because steel multiplied the force of every gesture. She'd never complained.
"When you say things like that," his master's voice came, soft, "she almost reminds me of someone else."
A tingling sensation assaulted the pit of Zelgius's stomach, the sort one felt when falling from a great height, when one's heart choked, leapt into the throat. He gripped Alondite's hilt. "Does she-- " He swallowed. "-- is there a resemblance?"
Sephiran lifted a lock of sopping hair with his fingers and curled it over his ear. It was still round, still human in appearance. "When she was a child..." The rain tamped the resinous incense to the ground, replaced it with the scents of wet grass, pond water from the moat, and wet granite. His master was dressed in black today, his skin pale and corpse-like in the filtered lamplight, slicked wet by the rain. "I used to think there would be. I'm glad there isn't."
Zelgius released his hold on the sword. His gauntlet creaked. The helmet scraped against his breastplate where he held it under one arm, and he wanted to let out a breath, but thought it would be in bad taste to appear relieved. He'd not heard the story until now, until the first night under Ashera's watch, when Sephiran had to be helped out of her chamber to a bench, his limbs trembling. She is not what she used to be, his master said, but he wasn't sorry to have awakened her. Her state of mind didn't matter, as long as she passed judgment.
He expected the goddess to be intimidating. Her hair was long, like fire, and drifted on winds that weren't there. Her eyes were red, blood, and her lips in a perpetual frown. But it was the empress's golden gaze he remembered when he bade her good-bye with a promise to rescue Sephiran from prison - the way eyes shifted, searched him, and made his stomach clench because he thought she knew. What would she do? How would she react? The goddess looked like fire, but Lady Sanaki burned all whom she touched, though her hair flowed behind her like a banner of night sky. She'd fooled him into kissing her once, and his face had not cooled for hours.
"I think I would have to hate her," his master said, "if she resembled Altina."
Zelgius shifted his helmet to the other arm, removed his gauntlet, and led his master up the steps to the protected area under the overhang of the second floor, where the stone was sculpted outward in the shape of leaves. The rain let up slightly, lightened to a mist that drifted with the current of the wind, and listened to the drip drip of water falling from the overhang to splash onto the stone steps, into puddles, and onto his shoulder plates. He gathered his master's hair at the neck with his bare hand and twisted, slowly, until water spilled from the ends and splattered onto the landing. It would have been better for Sephiran to hate her. If he hated Lady Sanaki, he would not neglect himself - he would sleep through the night, and eat regular meals, instead of subsisting on a few bites of apple or peach and disappearing into his chamber on the top floor. There were robes inside with slashes in the back for wings, and their silk shimmered at Zelgius when he stayed the night.
The empress must occupy his thoughts. He refused to show his wings, and left the heron-made robes hanging on their bar so they made a curtain against the unadorned blue stone, white and gray and all shades of blue, embroidered at the edges with silver. Zelgius remembered the way Sephiran would bend to kiss her forehead, the way he smoothed her hair back mornings when he arranged her headband and combed her fringe, how he wouldn't leave her rooms when she was touched with fever until she was well, bathed, fed, and dressed, until she threw him out with orders to do his work - and hers, because she was tired, and he was making a nuisance of himself.
If the empress reached his master, Zelgius would be dead and unable to support him. He would not be there to press his fingers into Sephiran's palm, to catch him when Gawain's son or one of the laguz monarchs struck a blow such that it pushed his slight form back.
She was so worried when she asked Zelgius to rescue him - the empress. She was pale, her knuckles white when she clasped her hands. Don't leave his side, she said. Do you understand? Do not leave his safety to chance - not ever. Don't let anything happen to him. Not a scratch, or I'll finish what Valtome started and see your head removed from your shoulders.
He bowed his head and released his master's hair. She would be too late.
"I take it your mission failed," Sephiran said.
Zelgius looked up. Perhaps it was tears, not rain, that moistened the profile before him. The corners of his master's eyes were wet, but his face was smooth. "The Maiden insisted on staying with her friends," he said, and put his gauntlet back on. The leather creaked. The edge of his helmet clanged on his breastplate when he tugged it on too hard and the leather creased, uneven.
Sephiran looked at him for the first time since his return. Water beaded on his eyelashes and glinted in the light streaming through the door. "You are unharmed?"
"Yes."
His master nodded, placed his slender hand on the wrist not quite covered by the gauntlet, and led him inside.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-03-30 07:14 am (UTC)LJGKLKSLKSDLDSGKJSDLKGJSLDKGJ
THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL. IT'S SO SUBTLE AND SAD. ESPECIALLY ZELGIUS.
I FEEL SO SAD FOR HIM :CCCCCC
no subject
Date: 2009-03-30 05:26 pm (UTC)Thank you~