Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Butterfly Song ❯ Butterfly Song ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Rating 'T'
Anime/Manga: Fire Emblem Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Shounen | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 10.15.2007 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 1.1K | Status: Completed
Rating 'T'
Anime/Manga: Fire Emblem Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Shounen | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 10.15.2007 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 1.1K | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem in anyway.
Warning: Out of Character charas, angst
A/N: This I wrote for Sindy...I'm still so sorry that it took forever! >.< I am really a horrible person, but I really just want Sindy to know that I absolutely enjoy hearing from her and I feel so lucky to be able to know her! I apologize for out of character characters, and for the fact that I just...warped this pair's relationship. o.o
‘Butterfly Song’
The sound of brush upon hair was a rough scrape that overtook the monotony of hushed quiet. From within the small tent, the glow of a single lamp illuminated his task. It was currently wet out, rain falling in lazy drizzles, the trees heavy and damp, the ground puddling and heavy with mud. The measures that had been taken to keep each tent protected and dry had been helpful against rising mud and water, though the water-resistant oils that had been slapped onto the lightweight canvases of each tent forced the enclosure of heat, stuffiness and scent. It was hotter within than outside.
Lucius quietly regarded his carefully wrapped amulets on the smooth surface of his vanity chest as he brushed his hair. His slender fingers caressed the light gold strands as he ran the brush through, laying his hair against his palm. Pausing the comforting action to scoop hair from the bristles with his fingers, Lucius looked around himself with a sort of thoughtful expression. It was quiet in the back corner of the camp, and he figured that he had enough time and privacy for himself to take advantage of. Quickly, he unbuttoned his top robe, twisting out of it so that he could push it around his waist. That exposed his undergarment, but it would serve all right in case his task happened to stain his clothing. He reached to his left, pulling a lap blanket to him and wrapping that around his waist to protect the garments from the waist down.
Rain made his hair frizzy and uncontrollable, and he was taking the time to make it more manageable. His hair was practically an entity on its own, and there were ways of making it obey him. Setting the brush down, he shifted his amulets aside and opened the chest to reveal small folding shelves neatly packed with hair oils, powders, soaps, pins and other miscellaneous hair holders.
He picked out a small pot with stained color on its surface and unscrewed it. Sniffing at it thoughtfully, he frowned at the scent of animal oil, forehead creasing before setting it aside. Taking out pins and ties, he sat back and clumsily crossed his legs, shifting his robes aside so that his position was more comfortable. With a lacquered comb that came from the depths of the chest, he began to divide his hair, tying it into three lengths and pinning his bangs from his face. Then he pulled at the section of hair on his right and began to comb through it with an absent hum. He fretted over the frizzy length with an examining stare, before reaching for the oil pot. He dipped his fingers in and began applying it. Then he began to comb it through, delighted when the strands began to stick together rather than frizz in staticky manner to his hands. Humming, he continued this process to that entire section just below his ear level until it was sleek and heavy in his fingers. He then braided it quickly, tying off the end before repeating the process to the middle ponytail.
Rain stopped and the mugginess inside his tent increased. There were the familiar sounds of animals making their noises of relief at the respite, and the sound of campers moving about, escaping their tents with a certain cheer. He smiled faintly at bellowing laughter on the far end of camp, men’s voices raised. He finished the process of braiding before tying it off and tossing the slender rope behind him, reaching for the left section of hair.
Just as he did so, the tent’s entrance flap shifted and he startled with a gasp. At Raven’s entrance, Lucius was rather mortified to be caught in this position, face flushing with color as he sat paralyzed in embarrassment. Raven carefully laid his muddied boots and cape aside and finally looked up. A single eyebrow rose upon viewing Lucius’ hair, and he shifted low so that he could cross the small space to Lucius’ comfortably padded bed a half foot away. Mats creaked under his weight. He set his scabbard aside, within easy reach before giving Lucius a studying expression.
Lucius lowered the comb, struggling to maintain a sense of dignity. “Good evening, milord,” he murmured quickly. “I’d thought you’d retired by now.”
Raven grunted. “Those idiots insist on keeping me awake with their constant chatter. It’s...more peaceful here.”
“Er...” Lucius trailed off, feeling foolish with his hair all tied up and in the middle of his regime. He also started to feel apprehension, doubt.
Raven leaned back on his elbows, crossing ankle over ankle. With a smirk, he folded his hands behind his head and stretched out. “I would have never thought you so...vain, Lucius.”
Lucius blushed once more, fiddling with one of his braids. He felt even more self-conscious as he grew aware of his exposed undergarment. He felt improperly dressed, but had to reason with himself on his right to be so within his own tent. “My Lord Raymond, it’s not...not necessarily vanity that I–that I attend to my hair so, but rather pertinent maintenance–because it reacts so badly to moisture–”
“Then get rid of it.”
The elder man gave him a shocked look, gripping his half finished hair with dismay. “I shall not! It’s as much part of me as–as yours is to you!”
Raven snorted, but didn’t look in his direction. He was silent for so long that Lucius fiddled nervously with his comb before clearing his throat.
“Erm, milord, is there...is there something you need? Is there...?”
Raven shifted, but didn’t look at him. “I need somewhere quiet.”
Lucius blinked, then quirked a corner of his mouth. “Certainly. You are always welcome here. But, ah...”
“Yes. Carry on. Imagine that I am not here.”
Self-consciously, Lucius reached up to pull the pins from his bangs, combing them back over his forehead with his fingers. Easy for you to say, he thought ruefully. He was well aware of the other. Was more than aware. He could smell the scent of the rain on Raven’s uniform, the smell of leather and body musk. It made Lucius’ stomach curl and his own flesh to warm, prickling with goosebumps. Feeling stuffy already, he grimaced in response and licked his lips. Tension grew within him, making his limbs heavy.
He glanced over to look at Raven, and hastily returned to finish combing oil into the last section of frizzy hair. He released the other two braids and carefully brushed it all together before pulling it over one thin shoulder and deftly created one long, thick braid. He searched through his chest for a long hairstick and deftly twirled the braid into a thick bun at the back of his head. Using the hairstick to pin it in place, Lucius then began to clean his comb and brush with a handcloth that he’d had neatly folded in the vanity chest. He put the oil away, making sure the top was screwed on tightly and making sure of this with the other pots. He then shut the chest. Lucius thought about Raven’s words earlier and gave a grim smile. With it pinned up, Lucius sat on his knees and reached up to examine around it for any strays, and to try to imagine his life without his long, blond hair. He really couldn’t picture himself with short hair–he’d spent countless hours on its length and maintenance. It had always been a large part of him that was his identity. If he didn’t have it...then surely Lucius wouldn’t be Lucius, right?
He smiled and ran his fingers over his hairline once more. Certain that nothing was out of place, he wiped his fingers on the hand cloth and then applied a cream to his hands and elbows. Another went on his lips before putting it away. Opening the flap of the tent, he peered out into the darkness, holding out one hand to test the moisture. He replaced the flap and shifted back to sit on his knees before glancing over at Raven. The redhead was asleep, Lucius decided uneasily, and removed the lap blanket. He hesitated for a moment, lowering his eyes as uneasiness swept through him with that action. He glanced over at Raven again before exhaling lightly in an effort to relax himself.
He figured he’d take the small space near Raven’s feet to sleep. He’d allow the other to take over his bed. After all, he do anything to please his Lord, and if his Lord wanted his bed...just his bed and nothing more...
Apprehension gripped him once more, but he forced himself to remove his top robe, fully revealing the thin, white undergarment underneath. Self-consciously, he smoothed the half sleeves down over his arms, then retied the thin ties that held the garment closed at his side. He leaned over to blow out the lamp, replacing the delicate glass cover with a soft clink. As he straightened, the feel of rough fingers on his neck made him tense.
“Shh,” Raven murmured, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of Lucius’s neck. The blond’s heart was pounding furiously, his throat tight with his surprise, but as soon as he grew steady with recognizance over Raven’s proximity and touch, he felt his skin heat significantly, blood rushing to his face and ears.
There was a part of him that enjoyed Raven’s touch–his physical everything. But he also felt slivers of shame and uncertainty, unfamiliarity and confusion as Raven’s touch became more than casual. And Lucius was torn between allowing himself to enjoy it or needing for it to stop.
Raven drew his fingers over the delicate curve of Lucius’s shoulders, his fingertips drifting over exposed skin with a gentle firmness that made Lucius break out with goosebumps. Raven leaned in close, his breath fanning over the back of his neck, causing baby hairs to ruffle slightly. It made Lucius’ stomach heat and squeeze with a strong desire that overwhelmed his mental senses and drove his physical senses into a hyper drive of confused want.
Raven was silent as his fingertips dipped underneath the collar of Lucius’ garment, taking in ultra-smooth skin along the hard line of his collarbone. Lazily he drew them back up the curve of his shoulder and onto the thin neck, marveling at the softness there. With his thumbs, he rubbed gently at the velvety patch of skin just under Lucius’ hairline. Leaning in, he pressed his mouth against it, feeling Lucius jerk in response, scrunching his shoulders. He could feel the flash of heat that made Lucius’ skin warm underneath his hands.
“Wait,” Lucius murmured.
“Your hair hides how small and delicate your neck is,” Raven whispered, fingers sliding over the tendons. “It feels as if I could break it with merely a touch.”
Lucius quivered at his words, exhaling lightly. He felt awkward and vulnerable as the callouses of Raven’s palm roughly scratched against the top of his spine. As if Raven were viewing the most private of his body. His skin flushed with color and heat, and he ached for the need to cover that part of himself from Raven’s touch. The darkness of the tent made it impossible to see Raven’s face, but Lucius could picture it in his mind: his Lord’s eyes would be narrowed with concentration, lips tight. His brow furrowed with thought. Lucius pulled away, twisting his upper body to face him. Immediately, Raven reached up to curl his fingers around Lucius’ neck, pressing a rough kiss on the corner of Lucius’ mouth. Lucius leaned back, pulse quickening as Raven’s fingers tightened over his throat.
His thumb pressed over his pulse point, Lucius feeling a shiver of fear race through his veins. His lips twitched in response as Raven kissed him then, his larger body pressing into Lucius’. Lucius leaned back automatically, returning the hard kiss with a timid press of his own lips before reaching up to slide his fingers against Raven’s chest. With just a light press of his hand, he used that touch to try and convey his spoken decision.
“Wait, milord. Please,” he murmured before Raven slipped his tongue into his mouth, drowning out anything else he tried to say. He was distracted by the warm, slippery muscle that roughly explored his teeth and stroked over his own. Words failed him at that moment, feeling lost and confused even as his body responded to the taste of Raven’s saliva and the smell of his skin.
Raven’s hand slipped around his neck, fingers brushing against Lucius’ gathered hair. Lucius could feel him slide his palm over the thick, braided bun before touching the hairstick. It took a knot caught within Raven’s fingers for Lucius to remember why he was so apprehensive. The sharp pain registered strong enough for him to pull his head back to escape the probe of Raven’s tongue, gathering a quick breath. Even as his blood warmed with rising desire, the taste of Raven in his mouth still just as delicious as it had been, Lucius felt anxious. He wanted to serve without question, to please him, but his body was already denying that want. It was nervous and afraid of pain, but definitely interested in the touches and kisses. He was confused, and confusion made the experience less than he wanted with the man that he’d always had feelings for.
Raven pulled his head back, fingers plucking out the hairstick and instead clutching Lucius’ braid to hold the blond’s head in place. His mouth was insistent on Lucius’s, his tongue forceful as he tried to gain entrance back between his lips. Lucius clenched his teeth and continued to keep his head pulled back, wanting to show his hesitation but not wanting to be forceful about it as to anger his lord. But Lucius sensed Raven’s growing aggression the more he moved to resist.
“Milord, please stop,” he whispered, turning his face to the side, Raven’s lips catching his cheek rather than his mouth.
“Do you not want me?” Raven demanded in a husky growl, his grip tightening on Lucius’ hair.
Lucius hesitated, brow furrowing. “You alone, always. But–!”
Convinced, Raven used his body’s bulk to force Lucius back until the monk shifted onto his back out of necessity to relieve the strain of his body’s position. Lucius felt tugs at his hair, the press of Raven’s erection against his thigh. The tent was stuffy, heated. Lucius felt suffocated underneath Raven, unable to draw in breath as Raven pulled his hair out of his braid. He moved to keep his legs closed, Raven shifting over him to press a hand between Lucius’ knees to force them open. Lucius gave a short whimper as he sought to keep his legs closed, reaching down to push at Raven’s hip, twisting his hips to pull out of Raven’s reach.
With an annoyed grunt, Raven pushed up Lucius’ robe to slide his hand up and over Lucius’ knee, pushing between them to curl over the inside of one thigh and having enough leverage to push Lucius’ legs apart. Lucius gave a short sound as Raven roughly forced himself between them, shoving the undergarment up Lucius’ waist, exposing the tightly folded material that made the blond’s underwear. That was pulled away with short tugs, spread aside as Lucius laid stiffly, realizing that Raven wasn’t about to listen to him. He swallowed tightly as Raven shifted out of his breeches, his breath slightly labored as anticipation caused him to rush his movements.
His entire body shook, stomach quivering as he felt Raven’s skin against the inside of his thighs. He stared up at the darkness as he felt the younger man shift over him, his breath hitting his face. Shaking quickly shifted into a tense stiffening at the blunt force he felt against the lower opening of his body, and he gripped the bedding underneath him as he waited for the familiar intrusive pain that had always made him fear this act every time Raven needed it.
-
Movement was always painful in the mornings after. Lucius was grateful for the weather as it continued to disagree with them, the rain falling in heavier droves than it did the day before. He had, with some shame, given thanks to Elimine for the delay in their travels. Mud slides gave ominous rumbles around them as the terrain fell victim to the weather’s continued assaults. The camp was safe where it was, protected by a flat spread of land that was also winged by trees. The only nuance of the situation was that this gave Lucius too much time to think.
He’d always served his Lord Raymond as best as he was able and then some. He’d give anything and everything to the younger man whenever Raven asked of him. He served with an almost blind love that made it difficult for him to deny or protest; until this carnal act took over everything that Lucius had ever believed in. He wasn’t quite sure how to categorize this forceful struggle of bodily need.
Every time Raven had taken possession of his body, Lucius had found it incredibly suffocating and painful. He wasn’t sure what he was giving Raven whenever Raven forced him. He wasn’t sure if it could be ‘force’. Lucius knew that he participated in encouragement with timid kisses and acceptance, but he didn’t believe in fighting Raven off if it meant Raven gained satisfaction and satiation from it. But at the same time...what was it that Raven was asking from him?
Selfish bodily satisfaction? Or perhaps some unrealized connection? Certainly not for power; Lord Raymond surely knew that Lucius would follow him to the ends of the world if he had to. He had strong feelings for the younger man, and while Lucius had these feelings, he knew that in some way they had to be acknowledged and received for Raven to come to him so. He knew he couldn’t just be a convenient release of sorts for the other man. There had to be something behind it. It wasn't pleasant for him; Raven couldn't be that selfish as to just demand and take without purpose...
Lucius reached up to comb through his slightly wavy hair, weighed down by the oil of last night. At least the rain’s humidity hadn’t made it frizz as it was wont to do. Remembering the feel of Raven’s hands on his neck made him shiver, skin flushing with color. It had felt good–but frightening because he felt as if he were playing with an animal that was sure to bite him despite his good intentions toward it. Raven’s hands were too strong, too firm; he seemed to play with Lucius’ fear and timidity, knowing that he could hurt Lucius and flaunting that temptation with just touch.
But Lucius didn’t feel as if he should fear Raven; Raven probably didn’t know the effect he was having on Lucius. Perhaps the blond was just taking the unfamiliar touches as a threat simply because it was new to him. Maybe it was only because Lucius was afraid and uncertain. Maybe it was only because he wasn’t completely sure of Raven’s new needs.
He exhaled quietly, running his fingers through his hair and staring out the open flap of the tent. His tome was sitting nearby, open and briefly abandoned for the weight of his thoughts. The rain brought in a stuffy atmosphere, chilly and fresh. He watched the grey world outside for a few moments, hearing the whinny of horses, the voices of men and women, the sucking steps of those braving the mud and rain to visit with others. Raven had left immediately after completing the act, leaving Lucius to feel vulnerable and bewildered even as his body throbbed with continued tension and shock. Raven hadn’t even said a word; nothing of ‘thanks’, nothing to placate, nothing to excuse.
This was troublesome for Lucius, feeling unsure of his role. Feeling unsure of the subject at all. He didn’t know to question Raven directly. To ask him ‘why’, should Raven feel threatened or bothered by it. He felt that Raven would display a displeasure to being questioned, and even though Lucius needed to know what it all meant, he felt that this anxiety would only scare the other away.
‘Scare’.
The act was frightening and full of emotions and feelings and sensations that Lucius couldn’t even begin to understand. His feelings for the other was wavering only because he couldn’t understand. What was he giving Raven that Raven needed?
He startled at the sound of incoming steps outside his tent. For a moment he was paralyzed with a brief fear, a repeat of last night. He wasn’t ready. He still hurt. Everything hurt and he was so uncertain about everything. He swallowed hard when whomever it was walked past his tent, and he recognized Guy shouting for Matthew. Lucius exhaled low, closing his eyes as he curiously probed his fear over Raven’s actions. Certainly it just meant that Raven needed him; Lucius could look at it this way, and he’d give...but he just didn’t understand why it was his body that Raven took need of.
Later that evening, Lucius returned to his tent before the rain became worse. He had spent time with the tactician and others, planning out their next movement. Though a little worried he’d run into Raven during that time, there had been no sight or word of the redhead. Lucius had been a little troubled over his newfound cause to actively fear being around the other; it confused him.
Shrugging out of his rain damp cloak, he set that aside and had time to remove his muddy boots before the flap of the tent opened, and Lucius felt a little trepidation when he saw Raven, a slight scowl on his face. Lucius gave him room to enter, though felt a little breathless and tense as Raven clearly prepared to stay by removing his muddied and damp outerwear as well.
“Good evening, Lord Raymond. A-are you well?” Lucius asked, stammering slightly as he scooted aside to give the larger man more room to maneuver. “I hadn’t seen you around, earlier.”
“I’ve been here,” Raven replied curtly, removing his sword once more and setting that within reach.
“Oh. Well...I see.” Lucius eyed him with uncertainty, brushing his hair from his face as Raven stooped low, uncomfortably awkward within Lucius’ temporary living area as he sat at the edge of Lucius’ bedding area. The mats that had been laid down gave the living area a sense of homey comfort, but they were easy to collect dirt. He tried to keep from dripping or stamping mud on them, as to not inconvenience the older man.
Lucius felt his throat tighten for a moment, himself just as awkward as he sat upon his knees to face him. Carefully folding the length of his robe between his thighs and folding his sash upon his lap, he sat in a rigid posture while he struggled to maintain a sense of casual ease in the other man’s presence.
He cleared his throat. “I wonder when the rain will clear up? It seems as if it has been raining for days...certainly it’ll start to slow down. Has anybody scouted the perimeters for, er, suspicious activities? I–have you explored the area, milord? It must have been lovely in that grove nearby. I noticed it earlier today, and I was wondering–but it must be flooded by now, isn’t it? There’s so many mudslides in the area...The animals must be getting restless. I heard we’re running out of oils to coat our tents, and....Serra mentioned that her supplies are mysteriously disappearing, but then Will had denied any wrongdoing immediately, and...well, I suppose it isn’t that important...”
Seeing that he was rambling, Lucius forced his mouth shut. Raven looked as if he’d zoned out as soon as he’d opened his mouth. All his thoughts and feelings rose within Lucius at that moment, and he struggled for the strength to ask his questions. If he didn’t ask...he’d never know. He’d spent enough years with the man to know his strengths in personality, and Lucius knew for sure that Raven would not divulge unless prodded. Lucius had, a few times in the past, commended himself for getting the redhead to open up. Surely it couldn’t be as hard as he thought it would be just to ask...
“My Lord Raymond, I’ve been meaning to ask you...of certain things. I’ve been... worried with your...with your new moods as of lately. Is there something that is troubling you? Something you’d like to–to talk about?”
For a moment, it looked as if Raven hadn’t heard him. Lucius thought he was being ignored. He started to feel bad about intruding into his ‘quiet time’, but felt stubborn with the need to know. Raven shifted, ruby eyes flashing with some annoyance.
“‘Moods’?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. “No.”
“Erm...well...forgive me for being forward, or for stepping out of line, but I–I find myself...honestly unable to...to fathom why you are...” Lucius trailed off, furrowing his brow as he struggled to say the right thing without conveying his fears about the situation. “I mean, I am just curious as to...why...well, I...there’s...”
“Just spit it out.”
“I...well, you see, you’ve...well, ah, it is...that is, you’ve–and I don’t think that it’s quite–but at the same time, you must be troubled, but I wish that you’d express to me in words what it is you are looking for without resorting to–”
“What are you talking about?” Raven snapped.
Lucius felt his face redden, and he playing with the sash of his belt with shaking hands, keeping his eyes steadily focused on the task. “Forgive me...I...I am merely rambling. I know not what I say.”
“Then what are you trying to say?”
“I...I am not certain. It’s nothing, Lord Raymond.”
Raven exhaled heavily. “I think you just enjoy hearing yourself speak. It’s not thoughts or concerns you speak aloud of, but just general noises that seem to satisfy your little tendencies to hear your own voice. Sometimes, I just yearn for some quiet.”
“...I...I am sorry, milord.”
Lucius fell silent, but his brow tensed. He studied Raven for a few moments, then frowned. Sometimes Raven just behaved in a manner that seemed threatening, but it wasn’t as if Raven was going to hurt him. He’d physically never laid a hand on him, and Lucius couldn’t imagine Raven doing so. Raven spoke harshly only to hide his own hurt and confusion, so Lucius could forgive him for that.
He tightened his lips briefly before speaking once again. “No, I take it back. I would like to know what it is you are thinking when you–when you feel the need to–to–”
Raven straightened, face darkening but Lucius could see the faint blush on his cheeks. It relieved him, deep inside, that Raven was vulnerable in such a manner. “What?”
Lucius hesitated out of embarrassment, fidgeting with the sash of his belt. “I want to know why you do as...you do...as you had last night. You’ve...never said a word. To explain. I don’t understand myself what it is you’re looking for when you are...physically...”
“You’re so bold to question to my actions, Lucius. “
“I have to know. I am confused, milord. I would serve you wherever it is you go or decide to do, but...this...confuses me. Is this a...silent gesture of your own emotions, or is it something that you need to do to feel something different of yourself?” Lucius finally managed to ask, stumbling over his words and feeling incredibly relieved once he was through.
Raven was silent for a few moments, but he looked away. His red hair seemed to glimmer as he shifted. His lips were defiantly set, chin stubborn. Lucius waited, fiddling his thumbs while his knees started to ache in the position he was in.
Finally, Raven rose. “You’ll not question my actions any further. I don’t feel as if I have to explain myself.”
“But–!”
“Frankly, it gives me deep satisfaction to have found a way to shut out your annoying rambling. Aside from sleeping, it’s the only way you’ve ever kept quiet.”
“Lord Raymond, your spiteful words only serve to deepen my worries over your behavior–!” Lucius protested, feeling a little hurt, but finding the strength to continue as he convinced himself that Raven was affected by his own actions.
“My behavior is none of your concern. The only thing I ask of you is that when I come to your bed, you spread your legs without question and continue to tell no one what I do. There aren’t feelings involved–I only knew you’d say nothing or do nothing to stop me.”
Incredibly flustered, Lucius’ face seemed to burst with heat and red, feeling stung and sick at the same time. “Have I done something to displease you enough to take it upon yourself to use my faith and trust in you so that you feel you can take advantage of me in such a primal fashion–!”
“You are only embarrassed because you haven’t denied me.”
“...Then you will befoul me in such ways? You care so little of me that you would openly debase my faith, my vows, my emotions for you without thought?” Lucius shook his head in denial. “No. I don’t believe that you are so heartless. You ask without words, demand without thinking because you serve only your anger for revenge. It has completely taken over your thoughts and feelings, and you will not admit to its strength to overcome your true self. Lord Raymond, I beg of you to recast your anger not in bodily needs, but into–”
“I’ll not stand here to be lectured on what I feel is my right to do!”
“It is your right to dishonor me in such ways!? Your faithful servant? You think not of what you do! It isn’t like you! There is foul magic or corruption that must be warping your way of thinking–!”
“I am in control of myself. I think for myself,” Raven hissed, lowering his voice. Then he scowled. “And you are not my servant. I asked for no titles between us.”
Lucius felt himself shiver, looking up into his darkened eyes, feeling his agitation. The tent was too small an area for their rising emotions, and he felt suffocated by it. But he held fast, stubbornly tensing his jaw while keeping his fingers from curling into the material of his robe to show his own agitation.
“I can forgive you for a great deal of things, milord, but I will not forgive you for losing yourself to the demon that feeds on your anger,” he said quietly. “I believe that you use it as an excuse; there are deeper situations to this one that you are keeping from me. But I cannot keep blaming your anger and simmering fears of failure on your actions. Eventually, you’ll have to account for them yourself.”
Raven fisted his hands, growing red in the face. Tension mounted, and Lucius found himself flinching despite himself. He told himself that Raven was only angry because of some untold thing. That he was keeping face by insulting Lucius. The blond felt his hair start to stick to his skin, and his cheeks itched with contact. Sweat gathered on his forehead, underneath his bangs, and underneath his arms.
Finally, Raven forced himself to draw back. But his eyes blazed hotly with warring thoughts and emotions. Lucius felt that if he happened to look away, the ominous tension of something that may happen would befell him. So he stared stubbornly upward, hearing his own short and tense breathing as he waited for Raven to say something.
Raven wiped his face with one hand, obviously struggling with himself. Seeing this drew a small smile on Lucius’ face, sensing that they had overcome some strenuous obstacle that would allow them to connect peacefully once more.
Instead Raven struck out, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking him forward so that Lucius was thrown completely off-balance, his shoulder striking against Raven’s shin before he could prop himself up with his hands. He was much too stunned to cry out in shock, his throat closing up with immense feeling as pain prickled throughout his scalp.
Raven shoved him aside, releasing him before pulling on his boots. He ripped long, gold strands from between his fingers. “Learn your place. You’ll not control me, or lecture me.”
Tears pricking his eyes, Lucius stared down at the mats underneath him, arms quivering weakly as they fought to keep him propped up. The left side of his scalp tingled with pain, fully aware of every movement Raven made to prepare to venture back out into the rain. Because his arms were about to give, he slowly forced himself into a sitting position, stunned and slowly going numb. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, but he wasn’t making an effort to do so. His chest felt tight and his stomach gnawed with raw pain.
He wasn’t sure he would be able to speak until he heard himself say, “The anger within you continues to change you. Cocooning yourself with it will not allow you to become the victor that you imagine yourself to be. It will cloud your judgement and force your mind into something completely alien to your original self.”
Raven paused in retying his sword to his side. He stared down at the elder man that was prostrated before him. His blond hair was gnarled and clumped just above his ear. He registered, then, the oil in his hand before swiping that on his cloak with a slow wipe.
He snorted. “You continue to make excuses using pretty words.”
Lucius stiffened for a few moments, then tilted his head to the side to meet his eyes. For that look alone, Raven felt guilty and shamed, looking away with just a slide of his own eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look into clear blue.
“Should I continue to be punished because I am loyal to you?” Lucius asked quietly. “Eventually, Lord Raymond, your anger will only change me as well. If you ever cared for me, ever respected what I feel and serve to you, you’ll understand that I fear for both the loss of ourselves. Yours, mainly.”
“...Such blind loyalty should be the death of you.”
“Will you grieve if I died because of my loyalty?”
“How can I grieve for something that I can only find pathetic?”
Lucius stared at him for a few moments, then looked away. Raven felt foolish at that moment, feeling the heaviness in their words and the tension between them. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Lucius at that moment, fearing the thought of guilt upon doing so. He cleared his throat and clutched the handle of his sword with rigid fingers.
Then he left the blond without another word. Lucius sat in silence, unsure if he was feeling melancholy for the loss of a man he thought he knew, or the loss of his own confidence in loyalty.
Warning: Out of Character charas, angst
A/N: This I wrote for Sindy...I'm still so sorry that it took forever! >.< I am really a horrible person, but I really just want Sindy to know that I absolutely enjoy hearing from her and I feel so lucky to be able to know her! I apologize for out of character characters, and for the fact that I just...warped this pair's relationship. o.o
‘Butterfly Song’
The sound of brush upon hair was a rough scrape that overtook the monotony of hushed quiet. From within the small tent, the glow of a single lamp illuminated his task. It was currently wet out, rain falling in lazy drizzles, the trees heavy and damp, the ground puddling and heavy with mud. The measures that had been taken to keep each tent protected and dry had been helpful against rising mud and water, though the water-resistant oils that had been slapped onto the lightweight canvases of each tent forced the enclosure of heat, stuffiness and scent. It was hotter within than outside.
Lucius quietly regarded his carefully wrapped amulets on the smooth surface of his vanity chest as he brushed his hair. His slender fingers caressed the light gold strands as he ran the brush through, laying his hair against his palm. Pausing the comforting action to scoop hair from the bristles with his fingers, Lucius looked around himself with a sort of thoughtful expression. It was quiet in the back corner of the camp, and he figured that he had enough time and privacy for himself to take advantage of. Quickly, he unbuttoned his top robe, twisting out of it so that he could push it around his waist. That exposed his undergarment, but it would serve all right in case his task happened to stain his clothing. He reached to his left, pulling a lap blanket to him and wrapping that around his waist to protect the garments from the waist down.
Rain made his hair frizzy and uncontrollable, and he was taking the time to make it more manageable. His hair was practically an entity on its own, and there were ways of making it obey him. Setting the brush down, he shifted his amulets aside and opened the chest to reveal small folding shelves neatly packed with hair oils, powders, soaps, pins and other miscellaneous hair holders.
He picked out a small pot with stained color on its surface and unscrewed it. Sniffing at it thoughtfully, he frowned at the scent of animal oil, forehead creasing before setting it aside. Taking out pins and ties, he sat back and clumsily crossed his legs, shifting his robes aside so that his position was more comfortable. With a lacquered comb that came from the depths of the chest, he began to divide his hair, tying it into three lengths and pinning his bangs from his face. Then he pulled at the section of hair on his right and began to comb through it with an absent hum. He fretted over the frizzy length with an examining stare, before reaching for the oil pot. He dipped his fingers in and began applying it. Then he began to comb it through, delighted when the strands began to stick together rather than frizz in staticky manner to his hands. Humming, he continued this process to that entire section just below his ear level until it was sleek and heavy in his fingers. He then braided it quickly, tying off the end before repeating the process to the middle ponytail.
Rain stopped and the mugginess inside his tent increased. There were the familiar sounds of animals making their noises of relief at the respite, and the sound of campers moving about, escaping their tents with a certain cheer. He smiled faintly at bellowing laughter on the far end of camp, men’s voices raised. He finished the process of braiding before tying it off and tossing the slender rope behind him, reaching for the left section of hair.
Just as he did so, the tent’s entrance flap shifted and he startled with a gasp. At Raven’s entrance, Lucius was rather mortified to be caught in this position, face flushing with color as he sat paralyzed in embarrassment. Raven carefully laid his muddied boots and cape aside and finally looked up. A single eyebrow rose upon viewing Lucius’ hair, and he shifted low so that he could cross the small space to Lucius’ comfortably padded bed a half foot away. Mats creaked under his weight. He set his scabbard aside, within easy reach before giving Lucius a studying expression.
Lucius lowered the comb, struggling to maintain a sense of dignity. “Good evening, milord,” he murmured quickly. “I’d thought you’d retired by now.”
Raven grunted. “Those idiots insist on keeping me awake with their constant chatter. It’s...more peaceful here.”
“Er...” Lucius trailed off, feeling foolish with his hair all tied up and in the middle of his regime. He also started to feel apprehension, doubt.
Raven leaned back on his elbows, crossing ankle over ankle. With a smirk, he folded his hands behind his head and stretched out. “I would have never thought you so...vain, Lucius.”
Lucius blushed once more, fiddling with one of his braids. He felt even more self-conscious as he grew aware of his exposed undergarment. He felt improperly dressed, but had to reason with himself on his right to be so within his own tent. “My Lord Raymond, it’s not...not necessarily vanity that I–that I attend to my hair so, but rather pertinent maintenance–because it reacts so badly to moisture–”
“Then get rid of it.”
The elder man gave him a shocked look, gripping his half finished hair with dismay. “I shall not! It’s as much part of me as–as yours is to you!”
Raven snorted, but didn’t look in his direction. He was silent for so long that Lucius fiddled nervously with his comb before clearing his throat.
“Erm, milord, is there...is there something you need? Is there...?”
Raven shifted, but didn’t look at him. “I need somewhere quiet.”
Lucius blinked, then quirked a corner of his mouth. “Certainly. You are always welcome here. But, ah...”
“Yes. Carry on. Imagine that I am not here.”
Self-consciously, Lucius reached up to pull the pins from his bangs, combing them back over his forehead with his fingers. Easy for you to say, he thought ruefully. He was well aware of the other. Was more than aware. He could smell the scent of the rain on Raven’s uniform, the smell of leather and body musk. It made Lucius’ stomach curl and his own flesh to warm, prickling with goosebumps. Feeling stuffy already, he grimaced in response and licked his lips. Tension grew within him, making his limbs heavy.
He glanced over to look at Raven, and hastily returned to finish combing oil into the last section of frizzy hair. He released the other two braids and carefully brushed it all together before pulling it over one thin shoulder and deftly created one long, thick braid. He searched through his chest for a long hairstick and deftly twirled the braid into a thick bun at the back of his head. Using the hairstick to pin it in place, Lucius then began to clean his comb and brush with a handcloth that he’d had neatly folded in the vanity chest. He put the oil away, making sure the top was screwed on tightly and making sure of this with the other pots. He then shut the chest. Lucius thought about Raven’s words earlier and gave a grim smile. With it pinned up, Lucius sat on his knees and reached up to examine around it for any strays, and to try to imagine his life without his long, blond hair. He really couldn’t picture himself with short hair–he’d spent countless hours on its length and maintenance. It had always been a large part of him that was his identity. If he didn’t have it...then surely Lucius wouldn’t be Lucius, right?
He smiled and ran his fingers over his hairline once more. Certain that nothing was out of place, he wiped his fingers on the hand cloth and then applied a cream to his hands and elbows. Another went on his lips before putting it away. Opening the flap of the tent, he peered out into the darkness, holding out one hand to test the moisture. He replaced the flap and shifted back to sit on his knees before glancing over at Raven. The redhead was asleep, Lucius decided uneasily, and removed the lap blanket. He hesitated for a moment, lowering his eyes as uneasiness swept through him with that action. He glanced over at Raven again before exhaling lightly in an effort to relax himself.
He figured he’d take the small space near Raven’s feet to sleep. He’d allow the other to take over his bed. After all, he do anything to please his Lord, and if his Lord wanted his bed...just his bed and nothing more...
Apprehension gripped him once more, but he forced himself to remove his top robe, fully revealing the thin, white undergarment underneath. Self-consciously, he smoothed the half sleeves down over his arms, then retied the thin ties that held the garment closed at his side. He leaned over to blow out the lamp, replacing the delicate glass cover with a soft clink. As he straightened, the feel of rough fingers on his neck made him tense.
“Shh,” Raven murmured, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of Lucius’s neck. The blond’s heart was pounding furiously, his throat tight with his surprise, but as soon as he grew steady with recognizance over Raven’s proximity and touch, he felt his skin heat significantly, blood rushing to his face and ears.
There was a part of him that enjoyed Raven’s touch–his physical everything. But he also felt slivers of shame and uncertainty, unfamiliarity and confusion as Raven’s touch became more than casual. And Lucius was torn between allowing himself to enjoy it or needing for it to stop.
Raven drew his fingers over the delicate curve of Lucius’s shoulders, his fingertips drifting over exposed skin with a gentle firmness that made Lucius break out with goosebumps. Raven leaned in close, his breath fanning over the back of his neck, causing baby hairs to ruffle slightly. It made Lucius’ stomach heat and squeeze with a strong desire that overwhelmed his mental senses and drove his physical senses into a hyper drive of confused want.
Raven was silent as his fingertips dipped underneath the collar of Lucius’ garment, taking in ultra-smooth skin along the hard line of his collarbone. Lazily he drew them back up the curve of his shoulder and onto the thin neck, marveling at the softness there. With his thumbs, he rubbed gently at the velvety patch of skin just under Lucius’ hairline. Leaning in, he pressed his mouth against it, feeling Lucius jerk in response, scrunching his shoulders. He could feel the flash of heat that made Lucius’ skin warm underneath his hands.
“Wait,” Lucius murmured.
“Your hair hides how small and delicate your neck is,” Raven whispered, fingers sliding over the tendons. “It feels as if I could break it with merely a touch.”
Lucius quivered at his words, exhaling lightly. He felt awkward and vulnerable as the callouses of Raven’s palm roughly scratched against the top of his spine. As if Raven were viewing the most private of his body. His skin flushed with color and heat, and he ached for the need to cover that part of himself from Raven’s touch. The darkness of the tent made it impossible to see Raven’s face, but Lucius could picture it in his mind: his Lord’s eyes would be narrowed with concentration, lips tight. His brow furrowed with thought. Lucius pulled away, twisting his upper body to face him. Immediately, Raven reached up to curl his fingers around Lucius’ neck, pressing a rough kiss on the corner of Lucius’ mouth. Lucius leaned back, pulse quickening as Raven’s fingers tightened over his throat.
His thumb pressed over his pulse point, Lucius feeling a shiver of fear race through his veins. His lips twitched in response as Raven kissed him then, his larger body pressing into Lucius’. Lucius leaned back automatically, returning the hard kiss with a timid press of his own lips before reaching up to slide his fingers against Raven’s chest. With just a light press of his hand, he used that touch to try and convey his spoken decision.
“Wait, milord. Please,” he murmured before Raven slipped his tongue into his mouth, drowning out anything else he tried to say. He was distracted by the warm, slippery muscle that roughly explored his teeth and stroked over his own. Words failed him at that moment, feeling lost and confused even as his body responded to the taste of Raven’s saliva and the smell of his skin.
Raven’s hand slipped around his neck, fingers brushing against Lucius’ gathered hair. Lucius could feel him slide his palm over the thick, braided bun before touching the hairstick. It took a knot caught within Raven’s fingers for Lucius to remember why he was so apprehensive. The sharp pain registered strong enough for him to pull his head back to escape the probe of Raven’s tongue, gathering a quick breath. Even as his blood warmed with rising desire, the taste of Raven in his mouth still just as delicious as it had been, Lucius felt anxious. He wanted to serve without question, to please him, but his body was already denying that want. It was nervous and afraid of pain, but definitely interested in the touches and kisses. He was confused, and confusion made the experience less than he wanted with the man that he’d always had feelings for.
Raven pulled his head back, fingers plucking out the hairstick and instead clutching Lucius’ braid to hold the blond’s head in place. His mouth was insistent on Lucius’s, his tongue forceful as he tried to gain entrance back between his lips. Lucius clenched his teeth and continued to keep his head pulled back, wanting to show his hesitation but not wanting to be forceful about it as to anger his lord. But Lucius sensed Raven’s growing aggression the more he moved to resist.
“Milord, please stop,” he whispered, turning his face to the side, Raven’s lips catching his cheek rather than his mouth.
“Do you not want me?” Raven demanded in a husky growl, his grip tightening on Lucius’ hair.
Lucius hesitated, brow furrowing. “You alone, always. But–!”
Convinced, Raven used his body’s bulk to force Lucius back until the monk shifted onto his back out of necessity to relieve the strain of his body’s position. Lucius felt tugs at his hair, the press of Raven’s erection against his thigh. The tent was stuffy, heated. Lucius felt suffocated underneath Raven, unable to draw in breath as Raven pulled his hair out of his braid. He moved to keep his legs closed, Raven shifting over him to press a hand between Lucius’ knees to force them open. Lucius gave a short whimper as he sought to keep his legs closed, reaching down to push at Raven’s hip, twisting his hips to pull out of Raven’s reach.
With an annoyed grunt, Raven pushed up Lucius’ robe to slide his hand up and over Lucius’ knee, pushing between them to curl over the inside of one thigh and having enough leverage to push Lucius’ legs apart. Lucius gave a short sound as Raven roughly forced himself between them, shoving the undergarment up Lucius’ waist, exposing the tightly folded material that made the blond’s underwear. That was pulled away with short tugs, spread aside as Lucius laid stiffly, realizing that Raven wasn’t about to listen to him. He swallowed tightly as Raven shifted out of his breeches, his breath slightly labored as anticipation caused him to rush his movements.
His entire body shook, stomach quivering as he felt Raven’s skin against the inside of his thighs. He stared up at the darkness as he felt the younger man shift over him, his breath hitting his face. Shaking quickly shifted into a tense stiffening at the blunt force he felt against the lower opening of his body, and he gripped the bedding underneath him as he waited for the familiar intrusive pain that had always made him fear this act every time Raven needed it.
-
Movement was always painful in the mornings after. Lucius was grateful for the weather as it continued to disagree with them, the rain falling in heavier droves than it did the day before. He had, with some shame, given thanks to Elimine for the delay in their travels. Mud slides gave ominous rumbles around them as the terrain fell victim to the weather’s continued assaults. The camp was safe where it was, protected by a flat spread of land that was also winged by trees. The only nuance of the situation was that this gave Lucius too much time to think.
He’d always served his Lord Raymond as best as he was able and then some. He’d give anything and everything to the younger man whenever Raven asked of him. He served with an almost blind love that made it difficult for him to deny or protest; until this carnal act took over everything that Lucius had ever believed in. He wasn’t quite sure how to categorize this forceful struggle of bodily need.
Every time Raven had taken possession of his body, Lucius had found it incredibly suffocating and painful. He wasn’t sure what he was giving Raven whenever Raven forced him. He wasn’t sure if it could be ‘force’. Lucius knew that he participated in encouragement with timid kisses and acceptance, but he didn’t believe in fighting Raven off if it meant Raven gained satisfaction and satiation from it. But at the same time...what was it that Raven was asking from him?
Selfish bodily satisfaction? Or perhaps some unrealized connection? Certainly not for power; Lord Raymond surely knew that Lucius would follow him to the ends of the world if he had to. He had strong feelings for the younger man, and while Lucius had these feelings, he knew that in some way they had to be acknowledged and received for Raven to come to him so. He knew he couldn’t just be a convenient release of sorts for the other man. There had to be something behind it. It wasn't pleasant for him; Raven couldn't be that selfish as to just demand and take without purpose...
Lucius reached up to comb through his slightly wavy hair, weighed down by the oil of last night. At least the rain’s humidity hadn’t made it frizz as it was wont to do. Remembering the feel of Raven’s hands on his neck made him shiver, skin flushing with color. It had felt good–but frightening because he felt as if he were playing with an animal that was sure to bite him despite his good intentions toward it. Raven’s hands were too strong, too firm; he seemed to play with Lucius’ fear and timidity, knowing that he could hurt Lucius and flaunting that temptation with just touch.
But Lucius didn’t feel as if he should fear Raven; Raven probably didn’t know the effect he was having on Lucius. Perhaps the blond was just taking the unfamiliar touches as a threat simply because it was new to him. Maybe it was only because Lucius was afraid and uncertain. Maybe it was only because he wasn’t completely sure of Raven’s new needs.
He exhaled quietly, running his fingers through his hair and staring out the open flap of the tent. His tome was sitting nearby, open and briefly abandoned for the weight of his thoughts. The rain brought in a stuffy atmosphere, chilly and fresh. He watched the grey world outside for a few moments, hearing the whinny of horses, the voices of men and women, the sucking steps of those braving the mud and rain to visit with others. Raven had left immediately after completing the act, leaving Lucius to feel vulnerable and bewildered even as his body throbbed with continued tension and shock. Raven hadn’t even said a word; nothing of ‘thanks’, nothing to placate, nothing to excuse.
This was troublesome for Lucius, feeling unsure of his role. Feeling unsure of the subject at all. He didn’t know to question Raven directly. To ask him ‘why’, should Raven feel threatened or bothered by it. He felt that Raven would display a displeasure to being questioned, and even though Lucius needed to know what it all meant, he felt that this anxiety would only scare the other away.
‘Scare’.
The act was frightening and full of emotions and feelings and sensations that Lucius couldn’t even begin to understand. His feelings for the other was wavering only because he couldn’t understand. What was he giving Raven that Raven needed?
He startled at the sound of incoming steps outside his tent. For a moment he was paralyzed with a brief fear, a repeat of last night. He wasn’t ready. He still hurt. Everything hurt and he was so uncertain about everything. He swallowed hard when whomever it was walked past his tent, and he recognized Guy shouting for Matthew. Lucius exhaled low, closing his eyes as he curiously probed his fear over Raven’s actions. Certainly it just meant that Raven needed him; Lucius could look at it this way, and he’d give...but he just didn’t understand why it was his body that Raven took need of.
Later that evening, Lucius returned to his tent before the rain became worse. He had spent time with the tactician and others, planning out their next movement. Though a little worried he’d run into Raven during that time, there had been no sight or word of the redhead. Lucius had been a little troubled over his newfound cause to actively fear being around the other; it confused him.
Shrugging out of his rain damp cloak, he set that aside and had time to remove his muddy boots before the flap of the tent opened, and Lucius felt a little trepidation when he saw Raven, a slight scowl on his face. Lucius gave him room to enter, though felt a little breathless and tense as Raven clearly prepared to stay by removing his muddied and damp outerwear as well.
“Good evening, Lord Raymond. A-are you well?” Lucius asked, stammering slightly as he scooted aside to give the larger man more room to maneuver. “I hadn’t seen you around, earlier.”
“I’ve been here,” Raven replied curtly, removing his sword once more and setting that within reach.
“Oh. Well...I see.” Lucius eyed him with uncertainty, brushing his hair from his face as Raven stooped low, uncomfortably awkward within Lucius’ temporary living area as he sat at the edge of Lucius’ bedding area. The mats that had been laid down gave the living area a sense of homey comfort, but they were easy to collect dirt. He tried to keep from dripping or stamping mud on them, as to not inconvenience the older man.
Lucius felt his throat tighten for a moment, himself just as awkward as he sat upon his knees to face him. Carefully folding the length of his robe between his thighs and folding his sash upon his lap, he sat in a rigid posture while he struggled to maintain a sense of casual ease in the other man’s presence.
He cleared his throat. “I wonder when the rain will clear up? It seems as if it has been raining for days...certainly it’ll start to slow down. Has anybody scouted the perimeters for, er, suspicious activities? I–have you explored the area, milord? It must have been lovely in that grove nearby. I noticed it earlier today, and I was wondering–but it must be flooded by now, isn’t it? There’s so many mudslides in the area...The animals must be getting restless. I heard we’re running out of oils to coat our tents, and....Serra mentioned that her supplies are mysteriously disappearing, but then Will had denied any wrongdoing immediately, and...well, I suppose it isn’t that important...”
Seeing that he was rambling, Lucius forced his mouth shut. Raven looked as if he’d zoned out as soon as he’d opened his mouth. All his thoughts and feelings rose within Lucius at that moment, and he struggled for the strength to ask his questions. If he didn’t ask...he’d never know. He’d spent enough years with the man to know his strengths in personality, and Lucius knew for sure that Raven would not divulge unless prodded. Lucius had, a few times in the past, commended himself for getting the redhead to open up. Surely it couldn’t be as hard as he thought it would be just to ask...
“My Lord Raymond, I’ve been meaning to ask you...of certain things. I’ve been... worried with your...with your new moods as of lately. Is there something that is troubling you? Something you’d like to–to talk about?”
For a moment, it looked as if Raven hadn’t heard him. Lucius thought he was being ignored. He started to feel bad about intruding into his ‘quiet time’, but felt stubborn with the need to know. Raven shifted, ruby eyes flashing with some annoyance.
“‘Moods’?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. “No.”
“Erm...well...forgive me for being forward, or for stepping out of line, but I–I find myself...honestly unable to...to fathom why you are...” Lucius trailed off, furrowing his brow as he struggled to say the right thing without conveying his fears about the situation. “I mean, I am just curious as to...why...well, I...there’s...”
“Just spit it out.”
“I...well, you see, you’ve...well, ah, it is...that is, you’ve–and I don’t think that it’s quite–but at the same time, you must be troubled, but I wish that you’d express to me in words what it is you are looking for without resorting to–”
“What are you talking about?” Raven snapped.
Lucius felt his face redden, and he playing with the sash of his belt with shaking hands, keeping his eyes steadily focused on the task. “Forgive me...I...I am merely rambling. I know not what I say.”
“Then what are you trying to say?”
“I...I am not certain. It’s nothing, Lord Raymond.”
Raven exhaled heavily. “I think you just enjoy hearing yourself speak. It’s not thoughts or concerns you speak aloud of, but just general noises that seem to satisfy your little tendencies to hear your own voice. Sometimes, I just yearn for some quiet.”
“...I...I am sorry, milord.”
Lucius fell silent, but his brow tensed. He studied Raven for a few moments, then frowned. Sometimes Raven just behaved in a manner that seemed threatening, but it wasn’t as if Raven was going to hurt him. He’d physically never laid a hand on him, and Lucius couldn’t imagine Raven doing so. Raven spoke harshly only to hide his own hurt and confusion, so Lucius could forgive him for that.
He tightened his lips briefly before speaking once again. “No, I take it back. I would like to know what it is you are thinking when you–when you feel the need to–to–”
Raven straightened, face darkening but Lucius could see the faint blush on his cheeks. It relieved him, deep inside, that Raven was vulnerable in such a manner. “What?”
Lucius hesitated out of embarrassment, fidgeting with the sash of his belt. “I want to know why you do as...you do...as you had last night. You’ve...never said a word. To explain. I don’t understand myself what it is you’re looking for when you are...physically...”
“You’re so bold to question to my actions, Lucius. “
“I have to know. I am confused, milord. I would serve you wherever it is you go or decide to do, but...this...confuses me. Is this a...silent gesture of your own emotions, or is it something that you need to do to feel something different of yourself?” Lucius finally managed to ask, stumbling over his words and feeling incredibly relieved once he was through.
Raven was silent for a few moments, but he looked away. His red hair seemed to glimmer as he shifted. His lips were defiantly set, chin stubborn. Lucius waited, fiddling his thumbs while his knees started to ache in the position he was in.
Finally, Raven rose. “You’ll not question my actions any further. I don’t feel as if I have to explain myself.”
“But–!”
“Frankly, it gives me deep satisfaction to have found a way to shut out your annoying rambling. Aside from sleeping, it’s the only way you’ve ever kept quiet.”
“Lord Raymond, your spiteful words only serve to deepen my worries over your behavior–!” Lucius protested, feeling a little hurt, but finding the strength to continue as he convinced himself that Raven was affected by his own actions.
“My behavior is none of your concern. The only thing I ask of you is that when I come to your bed, you spread your legs without question and continue to tell no one what I do. There aren’t feelings involved–I only knew you’d say nothing or do nothing to stop me.”
Incredibly flustered, Lucius’ face seemed to burst with heat and red, feeling stung and sick at the same time. “Have I done something to displease you enough to take it upon yourself to use my faith and trust in you so that you feel you can take advantage of me in such a primal fashion–!”
“You are only embarrassed because you haven’t denied me.”
“...Then you will befoul me in such ways? You care so little of me that you would openly debase my faith, my vows, my emotions for you without thought?” Lucius shook his head in denial. “No. I don’t believe that you are so heartless. You ask without words, demand without thinking because you serve only your anger for revenge. It has completely taken over your thoughts and feelings, and you will not admit to its strength to overcome your true self. Lord Raymond, I beg of you to recast your anger not in bodily needs, but into–”
“I’ll not stand here to be lectured on what I feel is my right to do!”
“It is your right to dishonor me in such ways!? Your faithful servant? You think not of what you do! It isn’t like you! There is foul magic or corruption that must be warping your way of thinking–!”
“I am in control of myself. I think for myself,” Raven hissed, lowering his voice. Then he scowled. “And you are not my servant. I asked for no titles between us.”
Lucius felt himself shiver, looking up into his darkened eyes, feeling his agitation. The tent was too small an area for their rising emotions, and he felt suffocated by it. But he held fast, stubbornly tensing his jaw while keeping his fingers from curling into the material of his robe to show his own agitation.
“I can forgive you for a great deal of things, milord, but I will not forgive you for losing yourself to the demon that feeds on your anger,” he said quietly. “I believe that you use it as an excuse; there are deeper situations to this one that you are keeping from me. But I cannot keep blaming your anger and simmering fears of failure on your actions. Eventually, you’ll have to account for them yourself.”
Raven fisted his hands, growing red in the face. Tension mounted, and Lucius found himself flinching despite himself. He told himself that Raven was only angry because of some untold thing. That he was keeping face by insulting Lucius. The blond felt his hair start to stick to his skin, and his cheeks itched with contact. Sweat gathered on his forehead, underneath his bangs, and underneath his arms.
Finally, Raven forced himself to draw back. But his eyes blazed hotly with warring thoughts and emotions. Lucius felt that if he happened to look away, the ominous tension of something that may happen would befell him. So he stared stubbornly upward, hearing his own short and tense breathing as he waited for Raven to say something.
Raven wiped his face with one hand, obviously struggling with himself. Seeing this drew a small smile on Lucius’ face, sensing that they had overcome some strenuous obstacle that would allow them to connect peacefully once more.
Instead Raven struck out, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking him forward so that Lucius was thrown completely off-balance, his shoulder striking against Raven’s shin before he could prop himself up with his hands. He was much too stunned to cry out in shock, his throat closing up with immense feeling as pain prickled throughout his scalp.
Raven shoved him aside, releasing him before pulling on his boots. He ripped long, gold strands from between his fingers. “Learn your place. You’ll not control me, or lecture me.”
Tears pricking his eyes, Lucius stared down at the mats underneath him, arms quivering weakly as they fought to keep him propped up. The left side of his scalp tingled with pain, fully aware of every movement Raven made to prepare to venture back out into the rain. Because his arms were about to give, he slowly forced himself into a sitting position, stunned and slowly going numb. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, but he wasn’t making an effort to do so. His chest felt tight and his stomach gnawed with raw pain.
He wasn’t sure he would be able to speak until he heard himself say, “The anger within you continues to change you. Cocooning yourself with it will not allow you to become the victor that you imagine yourself to be. It will cloud your judgement and force your mind into something completely alien to your original self.”
Raven paused in retying his sword to his side. He stared down at the elder man that was prostrated before him. His blond hair was gnarled and clumped just above his ear. He registered, then, the oil in his hand before swiping that on his cloak with a slow wipe.
He snorted. “You continue to make excuses using pretty words.”
Lucius stiffened for a few moments, then tilted his head to the side to meet his eyes. For that look alone, Raven felt guilty and shamed, looking away with just a slide of his own eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look into clear blue.
“Should I continue to be punished because I am loyal to you?” Lucius asked quietly. “Eventually, Lord Raymond, your anger will only change me as well. If you ever cared for me, ever respected what I feel and serve to you, you’ll understand that I fear for both the loss of ourselves. Yours, mainly.”
“...Such blind loyalty should be the death of you.”
“Will you grieve if I died because of my loyalty?”
“How can I grieve for something that I can only find pathetic?”
Lucius stared at him for a few moments, then looked away. Raven felt foolish at that moment, feeling the heaviness in their words and the tension between them. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Lucius at that moment, fearing the thought of guilt upon doing so. He cleared his throat and clutched the handle of his sword with rigid fingers.
Then he left the blond without another word. Lucius sat in silence, unsure if he was feeling melancholy for the loss of a man he thought he knew, or the loss of his own confidence in loyalty.