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Entry tags:
As Your Shield
Story: As Your Shield
Year: 990 FY
Characters: Isshiri, Mel
Warnings: Discussion of likely impending major character death, discussion of Kit and Ulore's crimes, some internalized ableism, blaming oneself for someone else's crimes. If I missed anything, please let me know.
Mel was reading in their tent when Isshiri rejoined him, a knot of sunshine at his side. He set the book aside and kissed the top of the prince's head. "Hey."
"Hi. You didn't have to wait up." There was liquor on his breath, sharp and sweet, and something shadowed in his eyes.
"I wanted to."
Isshiri nodded and leaned into him a little. "I lied to you before."
Mel blinked, but didn't push.
"And, I just thought...y'know, if things do go badly tomorrow..."
"They won't," Mel interrupted. "I'll be right there, the whole time."
"Mel, please."
"Sorry."
Isshiri shifted, burying his face in Mel's shoulder, and Mel wondered if it was so he wouldn't have to meet his eyes. "I don't want there to be any lies, not to you, if I don't come back tomorrow."
"'Sshiri, did something happen, with Andrell, or...?"
The prince looked up at him and smiled a little, shaking his head. "No. Andrell and I just...it's hard to explain. Sorry, I left him when I started getting...I get sad when I drink too much. Can you...can I just get it out, please?"
Mel nodded. "Sorry. I'll stop interruptin'."
"Thank you." Isshiri looked away again, and was quiet for a moment, then said, "My mother is...vicious. And ambitious. And when I was seven, she started...she started to maneuver. My uncle tried to send a message. Using me. My sister stopped him and he died, but he..." He rested his hand on his prosthetic.
"Oh. Oh, gods, 'Sshiri..."
He shook his head. "I don't...I try not to think about it much. Or talk about it, ever. But you're...you're the only important--really important--person in my life who doesn't know, and..." He sighed. "Look, I'm not afraid, of tomorrow. I don't do that. But I don't want...I don't want us to...I wanted you to know." His shoulders were shaking a little
Mel nodded, and held Isshiri close, tangling his hands in his hair, not totally sure what to say to that.
"...it's odd, though," he said softly. "If not for...I would never have met you. Mother would never have sent me into Feredar if I weren't disposable." Isshiri shook his head. "I don't...I don't know how to feel about that."
You're not disposable, Mel almost blurted, but he caught himself before he actually did. Which, he realized, was probably for the best. It would probably have been just about the worst possible thing he could have said. Instead, he just kissed the top of Isshiri's head.
"Sorry," Isshiri said, turning in Mel's arms to kiss him lightly. "Like I said. I get maudlin when I drink too much. And this wasn't exactly how I wanted to spend tonight."
Mel kissed him back. "You don't have to apologize. Thank you, for...for trustin' me with this."
Isshiri shrugged a little, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. His hands drifted down Mel's chest, reaching for his waistband.
He caught his hands. "'Sshiri, wait a minute."
He blinked, and stopped.
"S'long as we're sharin' secrets..." He turned Isshiri's hands over in his, and kissed them lightly. "Reason I was in Feredar...I got a brother, who's vicious, and ambitious, and...he loves me. And, for me, he.." He let go of Isshiri's hands. "I found a box. With hands. He'd cut them off of the people he killed."
"It wasn't your fault," Isshiri said.
Mel shrugged. "It was 'cause of me. So I ran. Maybe he stopped, without me there, remindin' him..."
Isshiri reached up and touched his cheek. "I'm sorry."
Mel smiled a little. "I wouldn't've come to Feredar if I'd never found out. I wouldn't've met you."
His prince smiled back, just as small, and shook his head. "What a pair we make."
He caught his hand and kissed it again. "I'll make sure you come home safe tomorrow, 'Sshiri. I promise."
Isshiri curled against him. "Come home with me. Or, well, not home, since you can't come to mine and...but come back with me. Tomorrow. Please?"
Mel nodded. "'Course."
Isshiri smiled, first sweet, then smoky, and his hands started wandering again.
This time, Mel didn't stop him. They had precious little time together--promises notwithstanding, at least one of them had to be a realist, and Isshiri was too damn...Isshiri to qualify--and they'd spent enough of it on the darkness in their pasts. Isshiri was a knot of sunshine at his side, in his heart, enough to make...
If tonight was all they had, maybe it would be enough. But the last thing he wanted was for tonight to be the end.
As he tilted Isshiri's head up to kiss him properly, he made a promise.
I will bring you home, my love. I will walk us both off the field in however many pieces we fall into. However many hands, however many legs...however many pieces we lose, I will carry what's left home.
I promise.
Year: 990 FY
Characters: Isshiri, Mel
Warnings: Discussion of likely impending major character death, discussion of Kit and Ulore's crimes, some internalized ableism, blaming oneself for someone else's crimes. If I missed anything, please let me know.
Mel was reading in their tent when Isshiri rejoined him, a knot of sunshine at his side. He set the book aside and kissed the top of the prince's head. "Hey."
"Hi. You didn't have to wait up." There was liquor on his breath, sharp and sweet, and something shadowed in his eyes.
"I wanted to."
Isshiri nodded and leaned into him a little. "I lied to you before."
Mel blinked, but didn't push.
"And, I just thought...y'know, if things do go badly tomorrow..."
"They won't," Mel interrupted. "I'll be right there, the whole time."
"Mel, please."
"Sorry."
Isshiri shifted, burying his face in Mel's shoulder, and Mel wondered if it was so he wouldn't have to meet his eyes. "I don't want there to be any lies, not to you, if I don't come back tomorrow."
"'Sshiri, did something happen, with Andrell, or...?"
The prince looked up at him and smiled a little, shaking his head. "No. Andrell and I just...it's hard to explain. Sorry, I left him when I started getting...I get sad when I drink too much. Can you...can I just get it out, please?"
Mel nodded. "Sorry. I'll stop interruptin'."
"Thank you." Isshiri looked away again, and was quiet for a moment, then said, "My mother is...vicious. And ambitious. And when I was seven, she started...she started to maneuver. My uncle tried to send a message. Using me. My sister stopped him and he died, but he..." He rested his hand on his prosthetic.
"Oh. Oh, gods, 'Sshiri..."
He shook his head. "I don't...I try not to think about it much. Or talk about it, ever. But you're...you're the only important--really important--person in my life who doesn't know, and..." He sighed. "Look, I'm not afraid, of tomorrow. I don't do that. But I don't want...I don't want us to...I wanted you to know." His shoulders were shaking a little
Mel nodded, and held Isshiri close, tangling his hands in his hair, not totally sure what to say to that.
"...it's odd, though," he said softly. "If not for...I would never have met you. Mother would never have sent me into Feredar if I weren't disposable." Isshiri shook his head. "I don't...I don't know how to feel about that."
You're not disposable, Mel almost blurted, but he caught himself before he actually did. Which, he realized, was probably for the best. It would probably have been just about the worst possible thing he could have said. Instead, he just kissed the top of Isshiri's head.
"Sorry," Isshiri said, turning in Mel's arms to kiss him lightly. "Like I said. I get maudlin when I drink too much. And this wasn't exactly how I wanted to spend tonight."
Mel kissed him back. "You don't have to apologize. Thank you, for...for trustin' me with this."
Isshiri shrugged a little, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. His hands drifted down Mel's chest, reaching for his waistband.
He caught his hands. "'Sshiri, wait a minute."
He blinked, and stopped.
"S'long as we're sharin' secrets..." He turned Isshiri's hands over in his, and kissed them lightly. "Reason I was in Feredar...I got a brother, who's vicious, and ambitious, and...he loves me. And, for me, he.." He let go of Isshiri's hands. "I found a box. With hands. He'd cut them off of the people he killed."
"It wasn't your fault," Isshiri said.
Mel shrugged. "It was 'cause of me. So I ran. Maybe he stopped, without me there, remindin' him..."
Isshiri reached up and touched his cheek. "I'm sorry."
Mel smiled a little. "I wouldn't've come to Feredar if I'd never found out. I wouldn't've met you."
His prince smiled back, just as small, and shook his head. "What a pair we make."
He caught his hand and kissed it again. "I'll make sure you come home safe tomorrow, 'Sshiri. I promise."
Isshiri curled against him. "Come home with me. Or, well, not home, since you can't come to mine and...but come back with me. Tomorrow. Please?"
Mel nodded. "'Course."
Isshiri smiled, first sweet, then smoky, and his hands started wandering again.
This time, Mel didn't stop him. They had precious little time together--promises notwithstanding, at least one of them had to be a realist, and Isshiri was too damn...Isshiri to qualify--and they'd spent enough of it on the darkness in their pasts. Isshiri was a knot of sunshine at his side, in his heart, enough to make...
If tonight was all they had, maybe it would be enough. But the last thing he wanted was for tonight to be the end.
As he tilted Isshiri's head up to kiss him properly, he made a promise.
I will bring you home, my love. I will walk us both off the field in however many pieces we fall into. However many hands, however many legs...however many pieces we lose, I will carry what's left home.
I promise.