Fic: Rescued Prince, Wounded Pride (Fire Emblem: SS)
Title: Rescued Prince, Wounded Pride
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 0.9k
Warnings: none
Beta: vyctori
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summary: 30_ways fic, theme #17: Five More Minutes?
The first things Innes became aware of were the roar of the wind, unfamiliar movement, and his cheek pressed against pleasantly warm metal. Judging by his previous state of lethargy, the dregs of a Sleep spell were still floating around inside his head, or whatever it was Sleep spells affected. This made it far more difficult than it should have been to discover what was going on.
Having enough energy to open his eyes wouldn't have gone amiss.
His legs had been tied down and his arms were around the small rider of the horse, his back bent in an uncomfortable slouch. He was becoming increasingly conscious of the pain in his right arm, recognizing the unmistakable feel of a splint. The smell of a vulnerary was weak, but still there, along with the scents of horse and saddle leather, metal and dirt, blood and sweat.
In his current state of mind, Innes would have fallen into a kind of muddled, exhausted panic had it not been for the tug of his quiver at this waist, the comforting weight still there.
He was being rescued, not captured.
And it still grated fiercely.
Down-right humiliating, really.
Groggier than a drunken sailor, the prince of Frelia hoped very much that he had managed to shoot that staff-wielding troubadour before passing out.
He probably hadn't.
That might have been a pathetic noise of irritation welling in his throat, but whether or not it was, the sound was quickly whipped away by the wind. A thought which should have been obvious finally occurred to him. Silently cursing the mage who had thought magically induced slumber was a good idea, Innes mustered his will and forced his eyes open. The one on the right complied first.
Silvery-white metal filled his vision, his right cheek apparently resting on the back of a Pegasus Knight. He knew that armor.
After an absurd amount of effort, the left eye opened as well, revealing a long, white wing against a background of slow-moving clouds and a darkening blue. There were trees below and between them, flashes of magic could be seen, fire and lightning. Lute and Artur, he supposed, now capable of supposing.
Stubbornly fighting the last of the spell from his system, he watched the scenery pass beneath them, looking strangely idyllic considering the battle still raging. Having not yet fully regained his sense of time, he couldn't say how long it he had been awake when he felt a gloved hand touch his wrist, his left one. The leather was rough, but the hand was gentle.
"We're almost there, Prince." The words were nearly lost to the wind instead of shouted above it, the rider thinking him still asleep. "We're going down now."
This definitely wasn't his sister.
Hmm.
No. Still humiliated.
The touch changed into a grip and Innes allowed his knight to move his left arm from around her waist to over her shoulder. Considering that the woman was riding a Pegasus and managing not to drop at lance at the same time, this was an action far more impressive than it normally would have been.
Beginning to dive now, Innes half-moved, half-felt himself moving until his arm was over one of Vanessa's shoulders, his head on the other. Now that he was longer hunched over, his back was already beginning to feel better. Able to almost see what was going on in front of him, Innes realized the knight was flying her mount with her knees, lance in her left hand, his left wrist in her right. He also realized that under her armor, her shirt was an unusual shade of orange and that he had never looked so closely at a woman's neck before.
He tended to realize odd things when he was very tired, as he was now.
The Pegasus glided down, the wind roaring louder than before. Innes caught a glimpse of Gerik and Saleh before the animal's legs stopped kicking air and begun hitting dirt. His head bounced and struck her metal-clad shoulder, the prince letting out a pained sound.
"Prince!" Vanessa exclaimed, mortified, awkwardly attempting to look at him.
Innes winced, turning his face upwards. "I'm awake."
"I'm so sorry, sir!" Even from this angle, it was easy to see how red the young knight was turning. "I hadn't realized landing would-"
"I'm fine, Vanessa," Innes lied, ignoring the throbbing in his head and the blood leaving his right arm. He closed his eyes, his cheek once more against that pleasantly warm metal. "Just don't shrug."
He felt her tense. "Saleh's coming with a staff. I fixed up your arm as best I could before, but you still need a healing."
Innes made a sound of confirmation, not moving.
"Prince Innes?"
He smiled softly and spoke into the neck of her shirt. "I think I was wrong about being awake. Five more minutes?"
Vanessa hesitated, perhaps wondering whether or not he was joking. "We'd best get you onto the ground first."
No reply.
"...Prince Innes?"
Maybe getting rescued wasn't as completely humiliating as he had thought it would be, Innes reflected, drifting off into natural sleep.
Maybe.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 0.9k
Warnings: none
Beta: vyctori
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summary: 30_ways fic, theme #17: Five More Minutes?
The first things Innes became aware of were the roar of the wind, unfamiliar movement, and his cheek pressed against pleasantly warm metal. Judging by his previous state of lethargy, the dregs of a Sleep spell were still floating around inside his head, or whatever it was Sleep spells affected. This made it far more difficult than it should have been to discover what was going on.
Having enough energy to open his eyes wouldn't have gone amiss.
His legs had been tied down and his arms were around the small rider of the horse, his back bent in an uncomfortable slouch. He was becoming increasingly conscious of the pain in his right arm, recognizing the unmistakable feel of a splint. The smell of a vulnerary was weak, but still there, along with the scents of horse and saddle leather, metal and dirt, blood and sweat.
In his current state of mind, Innes would have fallen into a kind of muddled, exhausted panic had it not been for the tug of his quiver at this waist, the comforting weight still there.
He was being rescued, not captured.
And it still grated fiercely.
Down-right humiliating, really.
Groggier than a drunken sailor, the prince of Frelia hoped very much that he had managed to shoot that staff-wielding troubadour before passing out.
He probably hadn't.
That might have been a pathetic noise of irritation welling in his throat, but whether or not it was, the sound was quickly whipped away by the wind. A thought which should have been obvious finally occurred to him. Silently cursing the mage who had thought magically induced slumber was a good idea, Innes mustered his will and forced his eyes open. The one on the right complied first.
Silvery-white metal filled his vision, his right cheek apparently resting on the back of a Pegasus Knight. He knew that armor.
After an absurd amount of effort, the left eye opened as well, revealing a long, white wing against a background of slow-moving clouds and a darkening blue. There were trees below and between them, flashes of magic could be seen, fire and lightning. Lute and Artur, he supposed, now capable of supposing.
Stubbornly fighting the last of the spell from his system, he watched the scenery pass beneath them, looking strangely idyllic considering the battle still raging. Having not yet fully regained his sense of time, he couldn't say how long it he had been awake when he felt a gloved hand touch his wrist, his left one. The leather was rough, but the hand was gentle.
"We're almost there, Prince." The words were nearly lost to the wind instead of shouted above it, the rider thinking him still asleep. "We're going down now."
This definitely wasn't his sister.
Hmm.
No. Still humiliated.
The touch changed into a grip and Innes allowed his knight to move his left arm from around her waist to over her shoulder. Considering that the woman was riding a Pegasus and managing not to drop at lance at the same time, this was an action far more impressive than it normally would have been.
Beginning to dive now, Innes half-moved, half-felt himself moving until his arm was over one of Vanessa's shoulders, his head on the other. Now that he was longer hunched over, his back was already beginning to feel better. Able to almost see what was going on in front of him, Innes realized the knight was flying her mount with her knees, lance in her left hand, his left wrist in her right. He also realized that under her armor, her shirt was an unusual shade of orange and that he had never looked so closely at a woman's neck before.
He tended to realize odd things when he was very tired, as he was now.
The Pegasus glided down, the wind roaring louder than before. Innes caught a glimpse of Gerik and Saleh before the animal's legs stopped kicking air and begun hitting dirt. His head bounced and struck her metal-clad shoulder, the prince letting out a pained sound.
"Prince!" Vanessa exclaimed, mortified, awkwardly attempting to look at him.
Innes winced, turning his face upwards. "I'm awake."
"I'm so sorry, sir!" Even from this angle, it was easy to see how red the young knight was turning. "I hadn't realized landing would-"
"I'm fine, Vanessa," Innes lied, ignoring the throbbing in his head and the blood leaving his right arm. He closed his eyes, his cheek once more against that pleasantly warm metal. "Just don't shrug."
He felt her tense. "Saleh's coming with a staff. I fixed up your arm as best I could before, but you still need a healing."
Innes made a sound of confirmation, not moving.
"Prince Innes?"
He smiled softly and spoke into the neck of her shirt. "I think I was wrong about being awake. Five more minutes?"
Vanessa hesitated, perhaps wondering whether or not he was joking. "We'd best get you onto the ground first."
No reply.
"...Prince Innes?"
Maybe getting rescued wasn't as completely humiliating as he had thought it would be, Innes reflected, drifting off into natural sleep.
Maybe.