Five Accidents
Aug. 13th, 2007 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Five Accidents
Fandom/original: Original
Rating: PG-13
AN: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rougen
1) It wasn’t that the practice sword was broken, per se. It was, more accurately, shattered all over the floor of the armory. His father had just chuckled, but her mother pressed her lips into the thin line that usually proceeded a long string of words in Vistani. This time, however, she just strode forward and took his hand.
Turning it palm up, she looked at it, then at him. “This. This is your weapon, Nicolas.” Her voice was hard, not angry so much as forceful. “It is what you must learn the limits of, and it is what must be yours. The sword is just an extension. Nothing more. Do you understand?”
He nodded, slowly. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked in a small voice, “How is Gregorovich’s arm?”
“In more or less the same condition as the practice sword,” she answered shortly, and he winced.
2) The man, it turned out, had done nothing especially horrible. Stole a bit of food to feed his starving family, that was all, and his creditors were hiring mercenaries to track him now that he’d run. Nicolas had not been overly enthusiastic to take the case, but could stand a few extra coins in his pockets. Nothing more.
The other man had suggested they team up to catch him first, then split the reward money. He had a lean, hungry glint in his eye, but Nicolas almost carelessly accepted.
But now they were coming up on him. The runner was losing ground, and all three men knew it. And Nicolas started to feel, despite himself, a bit excited. He had always, and would always, love a good hunt.
They surrounded him, and cut him down, though he did put up a bit of a fight. The other mercenary looked at the corpse, then up a Nicolas with a leer.
Nicolas felt nothing but satisfaction as his saber bit into the man’s flesh. He was too shocked, this one, to properly defend himself against the blow, and his death was quick, but not especially clean.
It took a moment for the fog of disappointment that there was no one left to kill to leave him. When his head cleared, he groaned. This man might have someone to come looking for him. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself, and began to clean up.
3) He was well-dressed (and incidentally well-fed) as he went out for his evening rendez-vous. The girl was lovely enough, though he could tell by her initial look, she’d be one hungry for secrets and consequences. A pleasant dinner, he decided, and then a firm but polite “good bye.”
And then dinner was pleasant, though it took all his self-control not to betray the blandness of the food. It was a game he had long practiced, but this food was particularly bad. However, when it came time for the goodnights, he found her pressed up against him, crushing her lips to his. Marishka had never been anything like this forward before, and he was caught utterly off guard.
By the time he could find the presence of mind to do anything beyond kiss her back, she was clinging to him and protesting that she would always love him, that she would die if he sent her away. She said that even if he would not marry her, she would be content to be the least of his mistresses, as long as he did not forsake her altogether.
He finally managed to unwind himself from her arms, murmured a few false promises, and deposited her safely at her father’s estate. As he rode home, he made himself a mental note not to eat just prior to engagements with young women. And a further note to find Marishka a good husband, praying the infatuation was a temporary one.
4) Stella had dared him. They were fourteen. He had originally boasted a week, but she just shook her head, and said three days would be enough.
By the second day, he felt like he was starving, despite the potatoes and beef he’d managed to stomach. He was caught up in a cold sweat, and felt as if all his muscles were shriveling. He shook, he sweated, he swore up and down that he would not give in.
It was Stella who finally brought him what he needed. “I will not have you half kill yourself to win a bet. Eat.” He took the piece of jerky, and had never felt weaker in his entire life.
5) “Now you’re being unreasonable. You fell in love with Mother, did you not?”
“I did. But it was different, for several reasons. I considered my affection at first, to see if it would last. It did. But perhaps more importantly, I was utterly certain that she could take care of herself. Your mother was my protégé, and by the time we became involved, was my equal in combat. She can, quite literally, take care of herself. And this girl?” His father snorted. “She is equal to doing your dishes, son, but not a great deal else.”
“So? Not everyone has to be a fighter. Stella isn’t, really.”
“Your sister knows how handle herself. Your dear child isn’t part of our world, Nicolas, and that has nothing to do with her class. She will never be a part of all this.” His expression grew grave. “Did you tell her?”
“No! Not yet. But I shall have to, eventually, shan’t I?”
His father’s eyes were colder than Nicolas had ever seen them. “Indiscriminate love is a luxury we, this family, cannot afford. I need you to understand that.” A bit taken aback, Nicolas nodded. “Good. Now. Go and end it, or I shall have to.”
“I will.” It was the first true lie he’d ever told his father. It would not be the last.
Fandom/original: Original
Rating: PG-13
AN: For
rougen1) It wasn’t that the practice sword was broken, per se. It was, more accurately, shattered all over the floor of the armory. His father had just chuckled, but her mother pressed her lips into the thin line that usually proceeded a long string of words in Vistani. This time, however, she just strode forward and took his hand.
Turning it palm up, she looked at it, then at him. “This. This is your weapon, Nicolas.” Her voice was hard, not angry so much as forceful. “It is what you must learn the limits of, and it is what must be yours. The sword is just an extension. Nothing more. Do you understand?”
He nodded, slowly. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked in a small voice, “How is Gregorovich’s arm?”
“In more or less the same condition as the practice sword,” she answered shortly, and he winced.
2) The man, it turned out, had done nothing especially horrible. Stole a bit of food to feed his starving family, that was all, and his creditors were hiring mercenaries to track him now that he’d run. Nicolas had not been overly enthusiastic to take the case, but could stand a few extra coins in his pockets. Nothing more.
The other man had suggested they team up to catch him first, then split the reward money. He had a lean, hungry glint in his eye, but Nicolas almost carelessly accepted.
But now they were coming up on him. The runner was losing ground, and all three men knew it. And Nicolas started to feel, despite himself, a bit excited. He had always, and would always, love a good hunt.
They surrounded him, and cut him down, though he did put up a bit of a fight. The other mercenary looked at the corpse, then up a Nicolas with a leer.
Nicolas felt nothing but satisfaction as his saber bit into the man’s flesh. He was too shocked, this one, to properly defend himself against the blow, and his death was quick, but not especially clean.
It took a moment for the fog of disappointment that there was no one left to kill to leave him. When his head cleared, he groaned. This man might have someone to come looking for him. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself, and began to clean up.
3) He was well-dressed (and incidentally well-fed) as he went out for his evening rendez-vous. The girl was lovely enough, though he could tell by her initial look, she’d be one hungry for secrets and consequences. A pleasant dinner, he decided, and then a firm but polite “good bye.”
And then dinner was pleasant, though it took all his self-control not to betray the blandness of the food. It was a game he had long practiced, but this food was particularly bad. However, when it came time for the goodnights, he found her pressed up against him, crushing her lips to his. Marishka had never been anything like this forward before, and he was caught utterly off guard.
By the time he could find the presence of mind to do anything beyond kiss her back, she was clinging to him and protesting that she would always love him, that she would die if he sent her away. She said that even if he would not marry her, she would be content to be the least of his mistresses, as long as he did not forsake her altogether.
He finally managed to unwind himself from her arms, murmured a few false promises, and deposited her safely at her father’s estate. As he rode home, he made himself a mental note not to eat just prior to engagements with young women. And a further note to find Marishka a good husband, praying the infatuation was a temporary one.
4) Stella had dared him. They were fourteen. He had originally boasted a week, but she just shook her head, and said three days would be enough.
By the second day, he felt like he was starving, despite the potatoes and beef he’d managed to stomach. He was caught up in a cold sweat, and felt as if all his muscles were shriveling. He shook, he sweated, he swore up and down that he would not give in.
It was Stella who finally brought him what he needed. “I will not have you half kill yourself to win a bet. Eat.” He took the piece of jerky, and had never felt weaker in his entire life.
5) “Now you’re being unreasonable. You fell in love with Mother, did you not?”
“I did. But it was different, for several reasons. I considered my affection at first, to see if it would last. It did. But perhaps more importantly, I was utterly certain that she could take care of herself. Your mother was my protégé, and by the time we became involved, was my equal in combat. She can, quite literally, take care of herself. And this girl?” His father snorted. “She is equal to doing your dishes, son, but not a great deal else.”
“So? Not everyone has to be a fighter. Stella isn’t, really.”
“Your sister knows how handle herself. Your dear child isn’t part of our world, Nicolas, and that has nothing to do with her class. She will never be a part of all this.” His expression grew grave. “Did you tell her?”
“No! Not yet. But I shall have to, eventually, shan’t I?”
His father’s eyes were colder than Nicolas had ever seen them. “Indiscriminate love is a luxury we, this family, cannot afford. I need you to understand that.” A bit taken aback, Nicolas nodded. “Good. Now. Go and end it, or I shall have to.”
“I will.” It was the first true lie he’d ever told his father. It would not be the last.
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Date: 2007-08-14 02:07 am (UTC)