[Genfic/Worksafe]
Fire Emblem Writing Meme
Worksafe Only!
→ Hey, listen! This one is a little different! Please keep all prompts and fills T-rated or below.
→ Since this probably won't be as busy as the other sections, all gameverses are welcome here. [If it's needed in the future, it may be divided, but that probably won't happen anytime soon.]
→ Anonymously ( Read more... )
"And what about this one?"
"Uhm... do we need it?"
"I believe so, my prince."
"I've told you to call me just 'Lyon', Knoll."
Knoll pursed his lips oh-so-lightly, but nodded anyway. "Very well, Lyon. Where should I put the backing powder?"
Lyon pushed his hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing a bit of flour on his face. He looked down at his friend from the stool he was standing on. His other hand was still sticking wrist-deep in raw dough. "Put it down there," he said, pointing to one of the few spots on the kitchen table that was not dirty in any way.
With a nod Knoll obeyed, placing the surprisingly heavy bowl on the table, and wondered shortly why exactly they were in the kitchen and baking a cake. "Prince Lyon--"
"Can you give me the cocoa?" Lyon asked while kneading the dough with a concentrated frown.
"Of course." Knoll scuffled over to the store room.
"And stop calling me 'Prince'!" Lyon yelled after him. Knoll sighed to himself and looked around, spotting the silver box labelled as containing cocoa on a shelf. He quickly got a stool and still had to stand on his toes to reach the box -- while he had an average height for a twelve-year-old, the castle rooms were exceptionally tall and even adults had difficulties to reach the top sometimes.
When he entered the kitchen again, Lyon was unsuccessfully trying to get the sticky dough off his hands. "How much do we need?" Knoll asked and pulled the bronze scale towards him.
"I don't know." Lyon turned to him, frowning and licking dough from his fingers. He looked around, searching for the cookbook, but the tasty dough distracted him and he didn't see it anyway. Knoll pulled the book out of from its hiding place under the table; he just couldn't bear to see any book becoming dirty and had hidden it earlier when Lyon had tried to crack eggs without getting eggshell in the cake.
Silently, Knoll measured the cocoa and dumped it into the kneading bowl. With glee, Lyon began kneading again. Then Knoll made to do the same with the baking powder.
"Lyon?"
"Yes?"
"Why exactly are we baking?" Lyon stopped surprised and looked at his friend.
"Tomorrow is Papa´s birthday," he said incredulously, seemingly fully expecting that everybody knew this. Knoll muttered a little "oh" and dropped his gaze, feeling very foolish and embarrassed. "And I know that he likes this cake. It will make him happy."
Knoll nodded and added another cup of baking powder to the little heap on the scale. "But why mustn't the cook help us?" Knoll looked around the empty kitchen; he guessed that the chef was pacing outside. The thought of one twelve-year-old and one nine-year-old being alone and possibly wreaking havoc in his kitchen was most distressing to such an orderly person. And Knoll was quite glad about it since he did not have the greatest confidence in either his or Lyon´s cooking abilities.
"Because I want to bake it," Lyon retorted with a slightly pout. "Father already gets so many nice food from the cooks and presents from other people. I want to give him something I made myself." Lyon nodded fiercely once and almost threw himself into the dough, kneading it quite violently now.
Knoll watched the prince out of the corner of his eye, not entirely sure what he should think about the sudden fierceness. He took the scale plate and turned, wanting to dump the powder into the bowl like he did with the cocoa before. But Lyon, who was still pouting, snatched it out of his hand and dumped it onto the dough with too much force; the powder flew up directly into his face. Lyon squeezed his eyes shut and involuntarily sucked in a big gulp of air. He sneezed loudly; unfortunately directly into the bowl, blowing even more powder into his eyes.
"Ouch!" he squeaked, slapping his sticky hands on his hurting eyes.
"Look out!" Knoll exclaimed and grabbed Lyon, keeping him from falling backwards.
"It hurts," Lyon said in a teary voice. Knoll licked his lips nervously, helped the younger boy down from the stool and made him sit down on it.
"I'll get a cloth."
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When he turned around the last corner and his gaze fell on the brown-haired chef nervously pacing in front of the kitchen door, Duessel muttered a few curses under his breath. It seemed like Calvin had heard him, because he whipped around and ran over.
"Sir Duessel," he said in that breathless manner of his and wrung his hands.
Duessel greeted him with a nod of his head. "Calvin, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you prepare the Emperor´s tea?"
"Yes, yes, I should," Calvin replied with a shake of his head and sighed. "But Milord Lyon occupies the kitchen and I am not allowed to enter." Duessel frowned confused. "I don't know what his Majesty is doing and I fear for his and my kitchen´s safety. He wouldn't tell me his plans."
"Don't worry, Calvin. I'll look into that matter," Duessel said and laid his hand on the cook´s shoulder. Calvin nodded, took a few deep breaths and relaxed a bit.
"Very well. I leave it to you." Duessel slapped the other man on the shoulder once and then walked to the kitchen door. He pushed it open and put together a stern lecture on security and why a little boy, especially a prince, shouldn't be alone in a room full of knifes and other sharp objects in his head. But when he saw the sniffling prince sitting on the stool, his face covered with something white and his gloomy friend dabbing at his eyes with a wet cloth, he forgot his lecture.
"Prince Lyon?" he asked concerned and crossed the room in a few strides. Knoll looked up -- there was even something akin to surprise on his normally blank face -- when he heard the knight. Duessel knelt down next to Lyon and turned his head towards him.
"Sir Duessel?" Lyon asked.
"Yes. Fetch a dry cloth," he said to Knoll. The boy hurried away.
"Sir Duessel, what are you doing here?" Duessel made Lyon bow his head slightly and gently blew the still dry powder away from his eyes. Duessel ignored the question for now, half hoping that it wouldn't come up again -- he didn't exactly want the prince to know that he intended to steal food --, and took the dry cloth from Knoll. He carefully cleaned the young prince´s eyes.
"There," he finally said and released Lyon´s chin. Lyon blinked carefully; his eyes were a bit red, but it seemed like he was able to see again.
"Thank you, Sir Duessel," he said sheepishly. "And thank you, Knoll." Lyon looked down at his robes. He frowned unhappily when he saw that the upper part of his body was as white as his face. "Father will be mad." He tried to brush it off, but the cloth refused to become dark purple again and now it had dough stains as well.
"Prince Lyon, what are you doing here?" Duessel asked, standing up. Lyon got to his feet and craned his neck to look at the tall knight while trying to look confident and not sad over his mishap.
"I am baking a cake for Father´s birthday." He put his fists on his hip to emphasise his point. "And I'm doing it alone-- I mean, with Knoll´s help." He threw an apologetic glance to Knoll, who seemed to be embarrassed about something.
"I see..." Duessel said gravely and stroked his beard. He was fond of the prince and actions like this -- the innocent wish of a child to make his father happy -- made him respect and love him more. "Is everything working?" He threw a glance at the dough bowl; it did not exactly look like a proper dough.
"Yes." Lyon sounded rather unsure and his eyes flickered to his feet.
"We followed the instructions faithfully," Knoll remarked. Duessel gave him an acknowledging nod.
"And how will you bake it?" He jerked his head once to the big stone oven. Lyon wiped some of the remaining powder from his cheek. Neither of the boys was strong enough to even open the oven door.
"We would've thought of something," Lyon argued lowly. He was staring at his feet again.
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Lyon´s head whipped up and a tiny frown adorned his face. "But..."
"You already have one helper. Another one wouldn't hurt, would it?" The frown deepened as Lyon thought about it. After a few seconds he nodded slowly.
"Alright. But you only may put it in the oven!"
"Very well, Prince Lyon," Duessel said with a laugh. "But before we continue, let me fetch an apron so that your clothing is protected this time." Lyon blushed slightly and nodded. Maybe Duessel had only imagined it, but it sounded like Knoll had giggled quietly.
Duessel walked over to the small cupboard hidden behind the door, where he knew the cooks stored their working clothes. He looked through them, found two rather short ones and gave them to the boys. Lyon seemed to like his and stepped on the stool enthusiastically. Knoll was quiet, picked at the brownish cloth once and then turned his attention to his friend´s actions. Duessel want to position himself behind them so that he could watch what they were doing, but Lyon turned to him with a frown.
"Sir Duessel, you have to wear an apron as well."
"I don't think that is necessary," he quickly answered; while looking through the aprons, he had noticed that most of the cooks seemed to be smaller than him. The only apron that would fit him had a hideous colour and he'd rather avoid wearing it.
"But if you don't wear one, you're not allowed to help. You'll only get dirty as well and I don't want that." Lyon had such an endearingly honest expression that Duessel only nodded and reluctantly walked back to the cupboard. The hideous apron, whose colour was an odd mixture of brown, faded red and grey, hung there and mocked him silently. Duessel sighed.
"I am man enough to wear this," he muttered darkly, put the hideous thing on and walked back to the boys, who were trying to figure out what they needed for the filling.
"Very well," Duessel loudly said and clapped his hands once. "What's next?" The boys looked up at him; Lyon showed no reaction and only instructed him to fetch some curd. But Knoll´s corner of the mouth were slightly twitching and he didn't look him in the eye. Duessel huffed, puffed out his chest and ignored it. There would be time to nurse his bruised ego later. Now there was a mission to complete.
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And now I will never again write them 8D
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