(no subject)
Summary: When fighting blood mages, Warden Leske gets under the control of one by mistake. It's up to Warden Faren to either kill or help his friend, even if it costs him his life.
Rating: T for language (on part of both dwarves); challenge is sort-of "boy meets boy" in that Leske is just starting to notice Faren.
Every nerve in Leske's body was on fire. He heard Faren's voice, guttural snarls of determination and rage. Faren. Leske turned toward him as the mage controlling him said, "Finish him off, my pet. Make that sodding dwarf pay, and I'll let you..."
Leske staggered, feeling like a drugged puppet. He didn't, he couldn't hurt Brosca. Brosca had saved him from fully becoming one of Beraht's boys. Brosca had saved him from drowning when Knife-Ears pushed him into the blighted water. Hell, Brosca was damn near special in Leske's eyes. He couldn't fight the compulsion.
But he could manage to hold it off. For him. He felt himself draw a dagger. He felt himself switch to the ax, seemingly not caring that he was fighting a wild man. Faren. His.
"Oi, bastard! Who's gonna piss me off onna regular basis an' heat my bed at night? Huh, Leske?" yelled Brosca. Faren. He tried to remind himself that his friend had a name.
Faren was jumping around like a sodding drunkard who didn't know how to use his sodding maul, and Leske swung his ax. He had no idea how to kill Faren. He'd try, but likely die. That was how it went down for them.
"Master...says I gotta fuck you up a bit," Leske slurred. He sounded like a bloody idiot, but he was wont to that. He felt pain shooting up his throat, forcing him to vomit bile.
Next thing he knew, that damned Brosca held him, trying to see if he was okay.
Leske didn't feel like he was in so much pain anymore. Just like he was being mauled by an angry Faren. That was good.
That was the first time he saw Faren, saw him for what he was. Leske wanted to bury his face in Faren's long, red braid (even if the bastard had curly, wild hair, just like Rica and Kalah) and never let go.
He wanted to, but he had a job to finish. Without looking, he threw his dagger at where he assumed was the heart on that blood mage.
A scream followed, and Faren stood up, picking Leske up with that strange, dwarven strength they'd both been gifted with. "It's time to go home," Faren cooed. Leske nodded.
He didn't want Faren to let him go. He wanted Faren, perhaps in more ways than one. That was the hard part.
Rating: T for language (on part of both dwarves); challenge is sort-of "boy meets boy" in that Leske is just starting to notice Faren.
Every nerve in Leske's body was on fire. He heard Faren's voice, guttural snarls of determination and rage. Faren. Leske turned toward him as the mage controlling him said, "Finish him off, my pet. Make that sodding dwarf pay, and I'll let you..."
Leske staggered, feeling like a drugged puppet. He didn't, he couldn't hurt Brosca. Brosca had saved him from fully becoming one of Beraht's boys. Brosca had saved him from drowning when Knife-Ears pushed him into the blighted water. Hell, Brosca was damn near special in Leske's eyes. He couldn't fight the compulsion.
But he could manage to hold it off. For him. He felt himself draw a dagger. He felt himself switch to the ax, seemingly not caring that he was fighting a wild man. Faren. His.
"Oi, bastard! Who's gonna piss me off onna regular basis an' heat my bed at night? Huh, Leske?" yelled Brosca. Faren. He tried to remind himself that his friend had a name.
Faren was jumping around like a sodding drunkard who didn't know how to use his sodding maul, and Leske swung his ax. He had no idea how to kill Faren. He'd try, but likely die. That was how it went down for them.
"Master...says I gotta fuck you up a bit," Leske slurred. He sounded like a bloody idiot, but he was wont to that. He felt pain shooting up his throat, forcing him to vomit bile.
Next thing he knew, that damned Brosca held him, trying to see if he was okay.
Leske didn't feel like he was in so much pain anymore. Just like he was being mauled by an angry Faren. That was good.
That was the first time he saw Faren, saw him for what he was. Leske wanted to bury his face in Faren's long, red braid (even if the bastard had curly, wild hair, just like Rica and Kalah) and never let go.
He wanted to, but he had a job to finish. Without looking, he threw his dagger at where he assumed was the heart on that blood mage.
A scream followed, and Faren stood up, picking Leske up with that strange, dwarven strength they'd both been gifted with. "It's time to go home," Faren cooed. Leske nodded.
He didn't want Faren to let him go. He wanted Faren, perhaps in more ways than one. That was the hard part.