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dolevalanA/N: And...I'm back from the dead. Ha. The last weeks have been frighteningly hectic, but now they're over and I will be catching up a bit with my fanfic projects, among other things. Sorry about that.
Title: Congratulations
Fandom: The Count of Monte Cristo (after writing it, I realized there's nothing to keep it from being Gankutsuou-verse too, but I wrote it with the novel in mind)
Rating: G
He had been young. Very, very young indeed, though at the time he would have fervently denied it had anyone said so. But he remembered, in his private thoughts, being half giddy, between the promotion and the engagement, overwhelmed that so much could happen to him in so little time. He had been like a drunken man, reeling from joy, willing to share his good fortune with anyone and everyone who crossed his path.
He remembered her eyes, twinkling and black in a field of creamy skin, inverted stars. She had laughed at his freedom, at his willingness to tell anyone and everyone that he was engaged to the most lovely girl in France. He had lost all sense of propriety, dancing with her in the street, and Mercédès made a small concession by kissing his cheek, her lips warm against his skin, her nose wrinkling at the lingering taste of salt.
The morning of their finaçelles, Edmond had gathered her a bouquet of wildflowers, from the field where he had played as a child. As he carefully selected the flowers, the bright Marseilles sun making every color pop vividly against the waves of tall green grass, he thought about how short the time seemed, between when he played pirates with the other neighborhood boys in this field and now, when he was about to be married. He whistled to himself, clarion notes dancing along the wind and flying out to sea.
He didn’t hear Mondego approach, at first. He had been too occupied in his task and his thoughts. So when he heard the strong tenor call “Dantès,” it was much closer than he’d been anticipating. Straightening automatically, he inclined his head respectfully, though try as he might, he couldn’t remove the lingering smile from his lips.
“Good day, monsieur. I apologize for not hearing you.”
Mondego waved his hand to dismiss the apology, tilting his head as if to study the youth before him. It was a long moment, which at the time, Edmond had not appreciated fully: he saw the man standing before him clearly enough, but not what lay behind his flat brown eyes, so carefully appraising. Finally, the man spoke. “I believe you are to be married, Dantès?”
The smile broke into a grin, like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. “Yes, monsieur, I am indeed. To the most beautiful girl in France,” he couldn’t resist adding, though immediately he felt he’d taken a liberty.
Mondego’s lip quirked, though whether into a smile or a sneer, no one could have said. “Well then. Congratulations are certainly in order.” The man advanced and held out a lithe, well-cared for hand. Edmond took it, regardless of the rough calluses lining his own palm, regardless of anything but his own completely happiness. Mondego met his eyes, and even Edmond couldn’t miss the intensity, though he couldn’t guess the cause. “Congratulations, Edmond Dantès.”
“Thank you, monsieur.” As the man released his hand and turned to go, Edmond added, “God bless you, monsieur Mondego!” Mondego stopped without turning and laughed once, shaking his head, before continuing on his way. Edmond grinned and resumed picking flowers. He was used to people laughing at his good mood. And at the time, the youth had thought of nothing besides the fact that it was a pity everyone in the world couldn’t share his happiness.
Title: Congratulations
Fandom: The Count of Monte Cristo (after writing it, I realized there's nothing to keep it from being Gankutsuou-verse too, but I wrote it with the novel in mind)
Rating: G
He had been young. Very, very young indeed, though at the time he would have fervently denied it had anyone said so. But he remembered, in his private thoughts, being half giddy, between the promotion and the engagement, overwhelmed that so much could happen to him in so little time. He had been like a drunken man, reeling from joy, willing to share his good fortune with anyone and everyone who crossed his path.
He remembered her eyes, twinkling and black in a field of creamy skin, inverted stars. She had laughed at his freedom, at his willingness to tell anyone and everyone that he was engaged to the most lovely girl in France. He had lost all sense of propriety, dancing with her in the street, and Mercédès made a small concession by kissing his cheek, her lips warm against his skin, her nose wrinkling at the lingering taste of salt.
The morning of their finaçelles, Edmond had gathered her a bouquet of wildflowers, from the field where he had played as a child. As he carefully selected the flowers, the bright Marseilles sun making every color pop vividly against the waves of tall green grass, he thought about how short the time seemed, between when he played pirates with the other neighborhood boys in this field and now, when he was about to be married. He whistled to himself, clarion notes dancing along the wind and flying out to sea.
He didn’t hear Mondego approach, at first. He had been too occupied in his task and his thoughts. So when he heard the strong tenor call “Dantès,” it was much closer than he’d been anticipating. Straightening automatically, he inclined his head respectfully, though try as he might, he couldn’t remove the lingering smile from his lips.
“Good day, monsieur. I apologize for not hearing you.”
Mondego waved his hand to dismiss the apology, tilting his head as if to study the youth before him. It was a long moment, which at the time, Edmond had not appreciated fully: he saw the man standing before him clearly enough, but not what lay behind his flat brown eyes, so carefully appraising. Finally, the man spoke. “I believe you are to be married, Dantès?”
The smile broke into a grin, like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. “Yes, monsieur, I am indeed. To the most beautiful girl in France,” he couldn’t resist adding, though immediately he felt he’d taken a liberty.
Mondego’s lip quirked, though whether into a smile or a sneer, no one could have said. “Well then. Congratulations are certainly in order.” The man advanced and held out a lithe, well-cared for hand. Edmond took it, regardless of the rough calluses lining his own palm, regardless of anything but his own completely happiness. Mondego met his eyes, and even Edmond couldn’t miss the intensity, though he couldn’t guess the cause. “Congratulations, Edmond Dantès.”
“Thank you, monsieur.” As the man released his hand and turned to go, Edmond added, “God bless you, monsieur Mondego!” Mondego stopped without turning and laughed once, shaking his head, before continuing on his way. Edmond grinned and resumed picking flowers. He was used to people laughing at his good mood. And at the time, the youth had thought of nothing besides the fact that it was a pity everyone in the world couldn’t share his happiness.
