W007. Ficcage.

[chibi_trillian]

The fic from the tale of How the Chibi Got No Sleep won't be posted for a while--not 'til I'm done revising it. However, I will post a Magic Knights fic that contains NO smut and NO fluff. OMFG. Bet you didn't know I could write something that contained neither of those, didja?  It's actually pretty depressing.  The closest it comes to either of the two previous categories is an Aere/Imiel kiss.  This fic is also, rather sad to say, the one most likely to become "canon" or as close to canon as fiction about original RP characters can come.  I think it's one of the better fics I've written.  Assuming anyone ever reads it, it's rated in the general vicinity of PG.

 

I wish…

I wish this thrice-accursed war was over already.

Aere stroked Nelon’s sweat-soaked blonde hair, soothing him gently.  That godforsaken beast had managed to get a hold of him for less than a minute, but when Imiel blew its tiny mage-controlled brains out the damage had already been done.  The creature had been mostly teeth and claws, and they had found out when Nelon wouldn’t stop screaming that those teeth and claws were poisoned.  Dean had had to raise a water shield just to get close enough to Nelon to determine how badly he was injured. 

Aere closed his eyes, and the image of Dean’s water shield sheering and splashing under the brutal impacts of Nelon’s out-of-control voice replayed itself in his mind.  Azure’s screams mingling with Nelon’s as she struggled to protect Dean from the nonstop assault.  The cuts appearing on Dean’s face as he forced his way forwards against the palpable energy that was coruscating around Nelon, the blood looking all the redder against Dean’s pale skin.  He’d gotten to Nelon, and somehow managed to get him to stop screaming.  It was, however, at the cost of a broken and mangled hand that he’d extended outside of his shield. 

Dean was in the care of the Healer-mages now, and so, nominally, was Nelon.  The worst of the poison was out of his system, and the wounds were healed, but Nelon still thrashed in delirious fear.  He seemed to sense when his teammates were near, and that quieted him, gave him some peace, kept his uncontrolled powers from trashing the place. 

The one time when Nelon’s fever-terrors had frightened him enough that he’d lashed out, he’d destroyed the room and nearly killed the Healer who was with him.  As a result, the Healers, in large part, refused to come near him.  Aere and Imiel had been switching off caring for him all night, carrying him to a new bed in a new room, coaxing water and juice down his throat and praying it would stay down, shaking him out of his nightmares, holding his hand, making sure his fever didn’t burn too hot. 

Bastien was on his way from home, and Dean was going to come up when the Healers finished with his hand.  Imiel was getting something to eat.  Aere hoped he would return soon.  Aere thought that Nelon’s temperature had gone up again, but he wasn’t very good at telling such things.  To him, everybody felt like they had a fever. 

Aere opened his eyes and pressed his cool fingers to Nelon’s forehead.  He felt so hot…Nelon snuggled his face into Aere’s hand with a whimper.

Oh, little brother…I wish you’d open your eyes and smile at me and ask me why I look so grumpy.  You don’t belong in a bed, you should be singing, dancing, moving.  I wish…I wish…

“Shhh, Aere, he’ll be alright.  He’s a tough kid.  Don’t cry.”  Aere hadn’t even felt the tears running down his face, but he realized that Nelon’s face was blurry from tear-haze, and so was Imiel’s when he turned his face up towards the source of the comforting voice that had broken his reverie.  Imiel slipped his arm around Aere’s shoulders, hugging him awkwardly.  Aere sobbed silently into the front of Imiel’s jacket.  Imiel stroked his hair, much like Aere had been stroking Nelon’s hair a few moments ago.  Aere still held Nelon’s small, too-pale, bandaged hand in his own.  He didn’t want to let go of him.

“I wish this was over, Imiel,” Aere choked out.

“So do all of us,” Imiel murmured comfortingly in a strangely soft voice.  His hand joined Aere’s on Nelon’s.  Squeezed gently. 

“Amen to that,” came a weary voice from the door.  Aere lifted his head.  It was Dean, but Dean with all the smartass knocked out of him.  He was cradling something in his good arm.  After a moment, Aere realized it was Azure.  She looked dull and grayish, like the sea on a foggy day, not the usual sparkling emeralds and sapphires that made the water spirit a splash of brightness.  Her hair looked stringy, and her fins seemed tattered.  Her eyes were shut.

“Is she okay?” Aere asked, voice roughened by tears.  He’d never seen Azure hurt before.

“I…the Healers don’t know.  She needs to get to the sea, or at least to a good-sized salt marsh.  I have to leave,” Dean said.  His voice cracked on the last sentence. 

“Will they mage-gate you to the ocean?” Imiel said, in that same too-quiet, not-Imiel voice that he’d used earlier.

Dean nodded.  Aere swallowed.  Azure must be in serious danger, for them to blow that much magick on that little notice.  Dean was looking nearly as bad as Azure, and Aere came to the sudden realization that if Azure died, Dean would probably go too.  That explained it. 

Every Knight was valuable.  Trained Knights were worth far more than their weight in gold.  Knights that operated on Dean’s level, using Dean’s abilities, were officially irreplaceable.  The Alerian government would move Heaven and Earth to save one Knight from a preventable death.  A mage-gate, no matter how costly in terms of magickal energy, was far cheaper than trying to find a replacement for Dean.

“Good luck,” Aere whispered.

Dean nodded again, spun on his heel, and vanished in a swirl of long blue braids.

Imiel’s hand tightened over Aere’s and Nelon’s again.  Aere leaned his head against Imiel’s shoulder, and did not permit himself to think that Dean might not come back.  Azure would get to the ocean inside of fifteen minutes thanks to the miracles of mage-gating and be fine, and Dean would be fine if Azure was fine.  Aere was too tired, emotionally and physically, to handle anything else.  Imiel held him up, still murmuring comforting words to him in that too-quiet voice that didn’t sound at all like Imiel.  It was oddly soothing.

Aere squeezed Nelon’s hand and felt Imiel mimic his motion.  Nelon whimpered in his fitful sleep again, and clutched almost desperately at Aere’s hand, as if it were his only lifeline back to safety.  Those thin fingers felt like branding irons pressed into his skin. 

Aere didn’t know what drove him to do it.  Maybe it was that not-Imiel voice, maybe it was the aching place inside of him that screamed to be filled by someone special, maybe it was just the need to be comforted.  He lifted his head up from Imiel’s shoulder, and pressed his lips against Imiel’s in a kiss, fresh tears running down his face. 

Imiel pulled him closer, deepened the kiss, and then slowly broke it off.  He kissed and licked Aere’s tears off his face, salty and half-frozen.  Imiel’s tongue was nearly as hot as Nelon’s fingers, still tangling tightly with his own. 

Imiel pulled Aere closer, letting him bury his face in his chest, kissing the top of his head, stroking the shakes and shudders out of Aere’s shoulders.  Neither of them let go of Nelon’s hand.  Nelon made a mewling, whimpering noise.  A basin rattled.  Aere turned, pulling away from Imiel, touching Nelon’s face again.  Nelon relaxed.  Aere sat back and looked up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Aere whispered.

“What for?” Imiel asked.

“For…I just…I wanted…”

“Shhhh.  I wanted, too.”

Imiel pulled Aere close again, and intertwined his fingers gently with Aere’s and Nelon’s. 

“It’ll be okay, Aere.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

Aere rested his head on Imiel’s shoulder again.  Imiel made a comforting noise, and touched his cheek.  They sat there watching Nelon’s sweat-slicked face and waiting for dawn.  Dawn would bring Bastien.  Bastien was bringing medical books with him that would hopefully ease Nelon’s pain and bring him back to reality much sooner.  Dawn would also probably bring news of whether Dean and Azure would be okay or not.  But dawn was hours away, and the room was silent except for slow breathing and Nelon’s occasional faint whimpers. 

Until dawn, there was just the two of them, and Nelon, and the slow trickling of time.

 

Comments

[creamy-twilight.livejournal.com]

These fics. are making a place in my heart and this one is just so tragic/caring/important friendship. See, I feel just like Armstrong in my icon. And I hardly use that icon.