[30 Kisses][Fire Emblem 9/10] For Memory
Jul. 2nd, 2009 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreFor Memory
Author: Amber Michelle
Pairing: Lehran/Sanaki
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9-10
Theme: 30 - kiss
Words: 851
Rating: T for implication of "adult content."
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is copyrighted by Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I'm not getting any money out of this, just satisfaction~
Notes: Also for 31 - if love is fated, you'll chew it red from my list over at the gauntlet challenge. Assumes the "bad end" to FE10 involving these characters, and includes some Sanaki/Pelleas, though both are unhappy about it.
......................................................
Sanaki sipped bitter mint tea at the table by her bed, stared at the rumple of sheets on her side - the one near the window, where daybreak would reach first. The night sky was still a cold blue, pricked by stars but not lit by a moon. The yellow lamplight made the purple curtains an ugly, dull brown just a shade from red. When she was younger she'd wanted red for everything; red curtains, red rugs, red quilts, and he wouldn't let her have them - for the expense, Sanaki thought now, though at the time Sephiran told her it wasn't healthy to surround herself with such a color. It would turn her thoughts, he said, make them dark.
But it was blue that darkened her thoughts - and silver, and perhaps a certain shade of green. Red was the color of love. There was no more cliche verse than lips as red as the rose; there were party games to challenge the best poets among the aristocracy to turn such verses on their heads, make of them something new - blood, of course, of which she had plenty just now, and betrayal, perhaps the deep crimson of a favorite muscat wine. They served it at the wedding reception earlier, and it tasted just as she remembered, a perfect accompaniment for the dark chocolate truffles presented to her on a crystal tray. This is a joyous day, Oliver had said, lifting his glass to the light to begin his speech. It was a globe of garnet in the claw of his short, fat fingers. Altina's line continues, and we make our peace with Daein.
Daein was the most logical choice; Renning of Crimea was too old in her own estimation, and a marriage alliance with any of the laguz tribes would take a heavy toll on her bridegroom, but Daein - they had Pelleas, to whom Begnion owed the deepest of debts. Sanaki counted her blessings: he would not try to manipulate her, would not try to stab her in the back, literally or figuratively, he had no interests in Begnion to speak of. He barely knew what to do with himself in the bedchamber, but she had no intention of inviting him again once she secured an heir - nor would she invite anybody else. She wouldn't miss it. Her joints ached where her hips were spread, the skin stung between. It was messy, her nose objected to the smell. She'd already taken a bath and rubbed herself all over with gardenia oil and butter scented with tiare - for memory.
Gardenias would droop over her balcony rail come morning, planted around the perimeter in stone pots and basins. Their white petals would awaken with the sun, spread their wings, and their soft, velvety texture would remind her of the hands that used to pick them.
It wasn't his fault, Pelleas; he only embodied everything that had gone wrong for as long as she could remember, everything she thought was hers, and yet wasn't. He faced away from her now, his spine a long, slim line disappearing beneath the blankets, which he'd gathered and bunched in his arms as he slept. All she heard was his breathing. Sanaki counted her blessings again: he would leave in two months for Daein, and wouldn't return until the new year. Her advisers would keep their mouths shut now she'd made an effort to secure the throne. She'd kept her word, and acknowledged Daein as an equal rather than a lesser nation.
Sanaki always kept her word. Always. She would never break it, no matter how her husband's touch made her skin crawl-- even if he murmured someone else's name in his sleep. Maybe she did the same thing. Perhaps there was another name on her lips, waiting to be spoken, though she'd never thought of him in that way before - not really. It would have been strange to bring him to her bedchamber and let him undress her, to feel his hands caressing her skin or his lips anywhere but on her cheek, though leading Pelleas through the motions was just as awkward.
Sanaki could only imagine Sephiran would be a better lover. She remembered the butterfly touch of his fingertips to her forehead when he arranged her hair, and the careful way he embraced her, always perfectly appropriate. He told her she was beautiful every day, that she was the only thing that mattered in his life, the only person he loved.
It couldn't have been true. But even if every caress was a lie, and every word he said false, he would take her in his arms and whisper something soft, sweet, silly, comb his fingers through her hair and smile-- and while her husband would close his eyes and follow her hands, she knew Sephiran would begin the right way, with an embrace, an endearment - with a kiss.
....................................................
This is something I didn't explore in Silence at Daybreak because Pelleas died in my game. It's a little angsty, though.
Author: Amber Michelle
Pairing: Lehran/Sanaki
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9-10
Theme: 30 - kiss
Words: 851
Rating: T for implication of "adult content."
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is copyrighted by Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I'm not getting any money out of this, just satisfaction~
Notes: Also for 31 - if love is fated, you'll chew it red from my list over at the gauntlet challenge. Assumes the "bad end" to FE10 involving these characters, and includes some Sanaki/Pelleas, though both are unhappy about it.
......................................................
Sanaki sipped bitter mint tea at the table by her bed, stared at the rumple of sheets on her side - the one near the window, where daybreak would reach first. The night sky was still a cold blue, pricked by stars but not lit by a moon. The yellow lamplight made the purple curtains an ugly, dull brown just a shade from red. When she was younger she'd wanted red for everything; red curtains, red rugs, red quilts, and he wouldn't let her have them - for the expense, Sanaki thought now, though at the time Sephiran told her it wasn't healthy to surround herself with such a color. It would turn her thoughts, he said, make them dark.
But it was blue that darkened her thoughts - and silver, and perhaps a certain shade of green. Red was the color of love. There was no more cliche verse than lips as red as the rose; there were party games to challenge the best poets among the aristocracy to turn such verses on their heads, make of them something new - blood, of course, of which she had plenty just now, and betrayal, perhaps the deep crimson of a favorite muscat wine. They served it at the wedding reception earlier, and it tasted just as she remembered, a perfect accompaniment for the dark chocolate truffles presented to her on a crystal tray. This is a joyous day, Oliver had said, lifting his glass to the light to begin his speech. It was a globe of garnet in the claw of his short, fat fingers. Altina's line continues, and we make our peace with Daein.
Daein was the most logical choice; Renning of Crimea was too old in her own estimation, and a marriage alliance with any of the laguz tribes would take a heavy toll on her bridegroom, but Daein - they had Pelleas, to whom Begnion owed the deepest of debts. Sanaki counted her blessings: he would not try to manipulate her, would not try to stab her in the back, literally or figuratively, he had no interests in Begnion to speak of. He barely knew what to do with himself in the bedchamber, but she had no intention of inviting him again once she secured an heir - nor would she invite anybody else. She wouldn't miss it. Her joints ached where her hips were spread, the skin stung between. It was messy, her nose objected to the smell. She'd already taken a bath and rubbed herself all over with gardenia oil and butter scented with tiare - for memory.
Gardenias would droop over her balcony rail come morning, planted around the perimeter in stone pots and basins. Their white petals would awaken with the sun, spread their wings, and their soft, velvety texture would remind her of the hands that used to pick them.
It wasn't his fault, Pelleas; he only embodied everything that had gone wrong for as long as she could remember, everything she thought was hers, and yet wasn't. He faced away from her now, his spine a long, slim line disappearing beneath the blankets, which he'd gathered and bunched in his arms as he slept. All she heard was his breathing. Sanaki counted her blessings again: he would leave in two months for Daein, and wouldn't return until the new year. Her advisers would keep their mouths shut now she'd made an effort to secure the throne. She'd kept her word, and acknowledged Daein as an equal rather than a lesser nation.
Sanaki always kept her word. Always. She would never break it, no matter how her husband's touch made her skin crawl-- even if he murmured someone else's name in his sleep. Maybe she did the same thing. Perhaps there was another name on her lips, waiting to be spoken, though she'd never thought of him in that way before - not really. It would have been strange to bring him to her bedchamber and let him undress her, to feel his hands caressing her skin or his lips anywhere but on her cheek, though leading Pelleas through the motions was just as awkward.
Sanaki could only imagine Sephiran would be a better lover. She remembered the butterfly touch of his fingertips to her forehead when he arranged her hair, and the careful way he embraced her, always perfectly appropriate. He told her she was beautiful every day, that she was the only thing that mattered in his life, the only person he loved.
It couldn't have been true. But even if every caress was a lie, and every word he said false, he would take her in his arms and whisper something soft, sweet, silly, comb his fingers through her hair and smile-- and while her husband would close his eyes and follow her hands, she knew Sephiran would begin the right way, with an embrace, an endearment - with a kiss.
....................................................
This is something I didn't explore in Silence at Daybreak because Pelleas died in my game. It's a little angsty, though.
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no subject
Date: 2009-07-03 08:30 am (UTC)Either way, very nice fic. I like the thought behind it and the writing. It's done very well.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-04 04:29 am (UTC)Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-04 04:09 am (UTC)Of course Sephiran's the better lover! He's got 800 years of experience and that Heron sex blessing going on. How could poor Pelleas ever compete?
no subject
Date: 2009-07-04 04:31 am (UTC)... so yeah, what you said? >_>
The herons must have earned that blessing through Lehran's hard work with the goddess. :D :D