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runicloreNo Higher Honor
Author: Amber Michelle
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9/10
Pairing: Sephiran/Zelgius
Theme: 30 - i watch your back as you walk away ; 15 - the white scarves of death
Rating: K
Word count: 1458
Notes: n/a
............................................
Though his master assured him the guardians on the first floor of the Tower of Guidance could not ascend to the second without the goddess's leave, Zelgius watched the mouth of the staircase after he forwarded his orders to Levail. The doors were still open; soldiers wandered through, heads craned to see the vault of the chamber ceiling, examine the pale blue lights, their red armor taking a golden sheen when they passed beneath the globes. The goddess had been generous with her blessing, but each of these men and women were chosen for their skill, their strength-- and their loyalty, not to himself or the Prime Minister, but to the Empress.
Lady Ashera looked into their hearts, his master had said, a simple matter for a goddess. I will not have anyone fight for me that does not hold Sanaki first in their thoughts. She would be tired - exhausted from a battle with the remains of the senior council, and the long climb between chambers. They should not force her to waste her reserves of strength dodging and fighting their own troops.
If he sought to mitigate his own guilt-- there were better ways, Zelgius thought, though Lady Sanaki would not see their point of view on the matter of the Judgment regardless. He had his orders; in the event of victory, he would take her to his master's chamber on the fourth floor, willing or not, and keep her from harm's way until the battle was over. Levail's orders were the same, should Zelgius fall.
She has been deceived, his master told them. Treat her gently, and bring her to me. I will plead forgiveness on her behalf.
And if their empress refused to accept such forgiveness, refused to capitulate - what then?
"You should show more faith in Ashera's power," his master said from behind, soft, leftward, though he appeared at Zelgius's right hand. The Tower distorted everything - red became cool, the sounds of swords being sharpened became a slithering, feathery grate on the ear, laughter fell flat; the accent to Sephiran's voice he'd never noticed before now twisted his words. "Since you fight in her name."
Zelgius met his gaze. "I fight in your name." Begnion's colors were muted in this place, but the green of his master's eyes thrived in the unnatural light as if they soaked it in; his hair had taken on a silvery sheen he had only seen once - beneath the boughs vaulting around the sacred altar at Serenes, the day his master returned to the forest and revealed his wings for the first and last time. "I'd rather go down and help them eliminate Lekain."
"Understandable." Sephiran reached back, gathered his hair, and twisted it over his shoulder, around and around, into a rope of black silk. "But it was the empress they betrayed - she deserves the privilege of deciding their fate."
Zelgius turned back to the door. "Fire or sword, claws or talons?"
"I suspect the raven king will reach him first - perhaps even on her orders." The ornaments on Sephiran's robes clinked. "That will also serve justice."
Zelgius saw his master's hands twist his rope of hair, even when it was coiled as tightly as it would go, kinked and rolled around his hand, over his shoulder, hands only pale streaks in his peripheral vision. "You said they'd arrived?"
Sephiran's hands slowed, paused; his answer, a faint yes the tower swallowed so it was a minute movement of his lips without sound, sent a thrill to Zelgius's stomach, made it twist, rather like his master's hair, into an imitation of a knot. Sephiran's looked down when his fingers slipped and his hair swirled out of his grasp, watched it unroll and disappear over his shoulder, the strands slapping the back of his robe. "A few minutes ago."
Zelgius remembered the feel of that hair sliding between his fingers. He knew the warmth of his master's hands in his, the soft skin, palms and fingertips that had never known weapons or violence. You'll have to help me, he'd said when they broke free from the cathedral prison. I've never ended a life before. No, never, not even during the massacre. It was the spirits lingering in the forest that gave him strength, taught him how to turn what was left of his essence and theirs into the energy to create light - or fire, or wind, or black, pain-wracking spells.
All of those released from life during their flight out of the capitol met their end on Zelgius's blade. If they were lucky tonight - once, he would have said if the goddess smiles upon us - Sephiran's hands would remain pristine as he wished Lady Sanaki's to be.
He was so close; two inches stretched between their hands, perhaps less, and Zelgius heard the scrape when the golden ornaments on his master's robes hit the plate of his armor. The men were quieting behind them, and silence lay beyond the door, though in a normal building he would have heard signs of battle from the floor below. He would have to give his final orders, prepare his troops for the battle ahead. He felt their eyes, the men and women under his command - for a moment he thought he heard every one of them breathe, and wondered how many would continue to do so, and of their number, how many would curse or spit on his corpse should he fall. If the empress prevailed against the goddess and the truth was revealed-- their names, his, his master's, would adorn a list of traitors whose remains would be burned and scattered, due no honor in death or the afterlife.
So be it. He didn't want to see elysian fields or the faces of his family. There was only one person he wanted to be reunited with beyond the veil of death, and if Sephiran lived after all, as Zelgius told him to, as his goddess surely would prefer, he would wait forever, alone, and watch from afar.
"I should go," Sephiran said. "She's waiting for me."
Which - the empress or the goddess? Zelgius asked him once, and the pause before he answered - my goddess - was a full breath long.
Sephiran turned, touched his shoulder so they might face each other, and his pale eyes were glassy, gleaming too brightly in the blue light. "I expect to hear your report later," he said, his lashes quivering but not daring to blink. His posture was stiff, his hands in fists at his sides. "You've never disobeyed an order before. I trust you won't today."
"Never." He should have wiped those eyes dry - drawn a handkerchief from somewhere, something, though of course his armor offered no such luxuries, and to raise his hand in such an intimate gesture now-- Zelgius folded his arm across his chest, fist over his heart. "I will see to your every command."
Sephiran's head tilted, and his lips parted slightly, ready to say something. His lashes flicked tears onto the shoulder of his robe. He nodded instead, the moisture glittering on his eyelashes, a streak on one cheek, and turned, walked away - slowly, for he had no reason to appear in a hurry. His black hair swayed, the ends fanning and gathering below his golden belt, blacker than the silk of his ceremonial robes and the darkness beyond the far doorway, where another staircase led to the next line of defense. Zelgius watched the shine, the halo around his master's head, until he disappeared above the frame and the doors moved, turning on silent hinges to close with a sound like bricks grating together.
A year ago he would have urged his master to reconsider, but their choices now were merely variations on a theme: death by the sword, death by the goddess's judgment, death by the empress's judgment, death by hawk laguz - but only if he slipped. On the last occasion he asked that question,l Sephiran asked if it was Zelgius, perhaps, who wished to reconsider, and perhaps abandon their task. He couldn't be blamed, if that were so; bringing about Ashera's rebirth was a heavy task for mortal shoulders.
No. Yes, but-- no. Zelgius was raised a knight, and pledged his service to one person, in life, in death - to break that oath would be to break himself.
He would be there later to give his report - or die trying. There was no higher honor than that.
.
Author: Amber Michelle
Fandom: Fire Emblem 9/10
Pairing: Sephiran/Zelgius
Theme: 30 - i watch your back as you walk away ; 15 - the white scarves of death
Rating: K
Word count: 1458
Notes: n/a
............................................
Though his master assured him the guardians on the first floor of the Tower of Guidance could not ascend to the second without the goddess's leave, Zelgius watched the mouth of the staircase after he forwarded his orders to Levail. The doors were still open; soldiers wandered through, heads craned to see the vault of the chamber ceiling, examine the pale blue lights, their red armor taking a golden sheen when they passed beneath the globes. The goddess had been generous with her blessing, but each of these men and women were chosen for their skill, their strength-- and their loyalty, not to himself or the Prime Minister, but to the Empress.
Lady Ashera looked into their hearts, his master had said, a simple matter for a goddess. I will not have anyone fight for me that does not hold Sanaki first in their thoughts. She would be tired - exhausted from a battle with the remains of the senior council, and the long climb between chambers. They should not force her to waste her reserves of strength dodging and fighting their own troops.
If he sought to mitigate his own guilt-- there were better ways, Zelgius thought, though Lady Sanaki would not see their point of view on the matter of the Judgment regardless. He had his orders; in the event of victory, he would take her to his master's chamber on the fourth floor, willing or not, and keep her from harm's way until the battle was over. Levail's orders were the same, should Zelgius fall.
She has been deceived, his master told them. Treat her gently, and bring her to me. I will plead forgiveness on her behalf.
And if their empress refused to accept such forgiveness, refused to capitulate - what then?
"You should show more faith in Ashera's power," his master said from behind, soft, leftward, though he appeared at Zelgius's right hand. The Tower distorted everything - red became cool, the sounds of swords being sharpened became a slithering, feathery grate on the ear, laughter fell flat; the accent to Sephiran's voice he'd never noticed before now twisted his words. "Since you fight in her name."
Zelgius met his gaze. "I fight in your name." Begnion's colors were muted in this place, but the green of his master's eyes thrived in the unnatural light as if they soaked it in; his hair had taken on a silvery sheen he had only seen once - beneath the boughs vaulting around the sacred altar at Serenes, the day his master returned to the forest and revealed his wings for the first and last time. "I'd rather go down and help them eliminate Lekain."
"Understandable." Sephiran reached back, gathered his hair, and twisted it over his shoulder, around and around, into a rope of black silk. "But it was the empress they betrayed - she deserves the privilege of deciding their fate."
Zelgius turned back to the door. "Fire or sword, claws or talons?"
"I suspect the raven king will reach him first - perhaps even on her orders." The ornaments on Sephiran's robes clinked. "That will also serve justice."
Zelgius saw his master's hands twist his rope of hair, even when it was coiled as tightly as it would go, kinked and rolled around his hand, over his shoulder, hands only pale streaks in his peripheral vision. "You said they'd arrived?"
Sephiran's hands slowed, paused; his answer, a faint yes the tower swallowed so it was a minute movement of his lips without sound, sent a thrill to Zelgius's stomach, made it twist, rather like his master's hair, into an imitation of a knot. Sephiran's looked down when his fingers slipped and his hair swirled out of his grasp, watched it unroll and disappear over his shoulder, the strands slapping the back of his robe. "A few minutes ago."
Zelgius remembered the feel of that hair sliding between his fingers. He knew the warmth of his master's hands in his, the soft skin, palms and fingertips that had never known weapons or violence. You'll have to help me, he'd said when they broke free from the cathedral prison. I've never ended a life before. No, never, not even during the massacre. It was the spirits lingering in the forest that gave him strength, taught him how to turn what was left of his essence and theirs into the energy to create light - or fire, or wind, or black, pain-wracking spells.
All of those released from life during their flight out of the capitol met their end on Zelgius's blade. If they were lucky tonight - once, he would have said if the goddess smiles upon us - Sephiran's hands would remain pristine as he wished Lady Sanaki's to be.
He was so close; two inches stretched between their hands, perhaps less, and Zelgius heard the scrape when the golden ornaments on his master's robes hit the plate of his armor. The men were quieting behind them, and silence lay beyond the door, though in a normal building he would have heard signs of battle from the floor below. He would have to give his final orders, prepare his troops for the battle ahead. He felt their eyes, the men and women under his command - for a moment he thought he heard every one of them breathe, and wondered how many would continue to do so, and of their number, how many would curse or spit on his corpse should he fall. If the empress prevailed against the goddess and the truth was revealed-- their names, his, his master's, would adorn a list of traitors whose remains would be burned and scattered, due no honor in death or the afterlife.
So be it. He didn't want to see elysian fields or the faces of his family. There was only one person he wanted to be reunited with beyond the veil of death, and if Sephiran lived after all, as Zelgius told him to, as his goddess surely would prefer, he would wait forever, alone, and watch from afar.
"I should go," Sephiran said. "She's waiting for me."
Which - the empress or the goddess? Zelgius asked him once, and the pause before he answered - my goddess - was a full breath long.
Sephiran turned, touched his shoulder so they might face each other, and his pale eyes were glassy, gleaming too brightly in the blue light. "I expect to hear your report later," he said, his lashes quivering but not daring to blink. His posture was stiff, his hands in fists at his sides. "You've never disobeyed an order before. I trust you won't today."
"Never." He should have wiped those eyes dry - drawn a handkerchief from somewhere, something, though of course his armor offered no such luxuries, and to raise his hand in such an intimate gesture now-- Zelgius folded his arm across his chest, fist over his heart. "I will see to your every command."
Sephiran's head tilted, and his lips parted slightly, ready to say something. His lashes flicked tears onto the shoulder of his robe. He nodded instead, the moisture glittering on his eyelashes, a streak on one cheek, and turned, walked away - slowly, for he had no reason to appear in a hurry. His black hair swayed, the ends fanning and gathering below his golden belt, blacker than the silk of his ceremonial robes and the darkness beyond the far doorway, where another staircase led to the next line of defense. Zelgius watched the shine, the halo around his master's head, until he disappeared above the frame and the doors moved, turning on silent hinges to close with a sound like bricks grating together.
A year ago he would have urged his master to reconsider, but their choices now were merely variations on a theme: death by the sword, death by the goddess's judgment, death by the empress's judgment, death by hawk laguz - but only if he slipped. On the last occasion he asked that question,l Sephiran asked if it was Zelgius, perhaps, who wished to reconsider, and perhaps abandon their task. He couldn't be blamed, if that were so; bringing about Ashera's rebirth was a heavy task for mortal shoulders.
No. Yes, but-- no. Zelgius was raised a knight, and pledged his service to one person, in life, in death - to break that oath would be to break himself.
He would be there later to give his report - or die trying. There was no higher honor than that.
.
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no subject
Date: 2009-07-09 11:59 pm (UTC)You really should write more of this
very good
c
no subject
Date: 2009-07-10 09:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-10 06:03 am (UTC)Zelgius' devotion is hot. This is prettyful. This whole fic kind of reminds me of this one art from Spritzer that I showed you where they were embracing in the afterworld? Yeah, that one. In fact for a sec I thought I'd misread and they were actually dead -- but that's probably more due to my ~spacey~ ways lately.
And that's about the most coherent thing you're getting out of me in this state.
*skips off to get to the rest which she has had up in firefox tabs but hasn't been able to read yet*
no subject
Date: 2009-07-10 09:55 am (UTC)Oh, I remember that one. <3 It makes me sad and happy at the same time.
It's perfectly coherent! Thank you for the comment. <3
no subject
Date: 2009-08-01 08:52 pm (UTC)And sorry this is like random person out of the blue commenting. I happened upon several of your fanfics accidentally through google and ended up liking them [I'm usually not much of a fanfic person]. I hope you don't mind if I friend you?
no subject
Date: 2009-11-06 01:31 pm (UTC)But, um, I don't mind? Either way, I'm just glad you enjoyed the story... in August. *cough*