Re: In Dust, You Conquer [2a/2]
anonymous
November 25 2011, 04:30:46 UTC
A gun shot rang out loud and clear through the range, making the silence that followed tremble as birds scattered into the air. He hadn’t expected the violent recoil or the volume; the throbbing in his shoulder and hands were matched only by the deafness he was feeling in one ear. He lowered his musket, cupping the side of his head in an effort to make everything stop hurting.
“Well, well, well! His aim’s not bad at all!”
Beside him, Prussia ruffled his hair affectionately.
“My little Western boy’s got steady hands.”
“I’m not little anymore,” he grumbled, pushing away Prussia’s hand. “Stop calling me that.”
She shot him a look, wryness still evident in the twist of her mouth even as the quartermaster cuffed his ear.
“Manners, boy! What would the king say if he were to hear you say that?”
“My apologies,” he grumbled and, at a threatening look from the quartermaster, he apologised once again - properly and formally.
“No harm,” Prussia forgave with ease, still amused. “My boy thinks he is not little.”
“Indeed I am not, my lord,” he was hot to argue but remembered the quartermaster’s rebuke and kept his manners. “I beg for a moniker suited for someone above the age of five, if it pleases you.”
At that, Prussia’s smile morphed into a grin with too many teeth. She sidled along and slipped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him up against her. He flushed at the proximity and at their placement as buried his face in her stomach. Unwillingly, he brought both hands up to cling to the fabric of her coat and flushed deeper at his childish response to her loose embrace.
She was quiet a moment before she spoke again, voice a little lower. “Dear heart,” and he noted the wry endearment that made him feel his youth even further and drove that blush of his to a brilliant crimson, “You may grow tall and wide but even so you will always be my little Western boy.”
“I would not deny that,” he sulked into her uniform, “Only I am not little.”
“Why, pray, are you in such a hurry to grow?”
To don the blue and sing the songs. “I want to ride and shoot.”
“But you already are, Little West.”
“West,” he said fiercely. “Only West.”
Above, he heard Prussia sigh and felt her roll her eyes. She wound both her arms tightly around him, resting a hand in his hair where she stroked gently.
“You are still young to be in that heinous age of rebellion.”
“I am not rebelling,” he complained, finally peering up at her, “I am negotiating.”
“Negotiating.”
“It is the means by which two or more parties come to agreement through compromise, nominally verbal in nature though a manner of recompense-”
“Thus, you must also be aware that negotiation implies something to be gained by all parties.” She quirked a brow at him. “My reward?”
“My rapt and undivided attention.”
Prussia barked laughter. “You say that as though I do not have it.”
He struggled, aware that he had been caught in a trap and did not know how to rescue himself. The quartermaster briefly bade his farewells at them, smiling at the fraternal intimacy between the two as he excused himself.
He finally managed to think. “I would deny you of it.”
“I would like to see you try.”
He bit on his lower lip. Trapped. He could try, certainly he could, but the concept was not just appallingly rude, it was also unthinkable. He could not ignore his sister even if she acted like a varlet. Especially if she acted like a varlet. She was so very good at acting like a varlet and it enraptured him.
Prussia watched the inner war with amusement and gently touched his cheek, regaining his attention.
“My boy, do not rush to grow up. You are in your sweetest years and I would like to keep them for as long as I am able.”
“But…”
“Come now,” she smiled tenderly at him, a smile few had the privilege of, “You want to ride and shoot. I have given you that, Little West. Are you still unsatisfied?”
“I can read now,” he said, “But… I still need to drink beer and fire a cannon.”
Re: In Dust, You Conquer [2b/2]
anonymous
November 25 2011, 04:32:57 UTC
“Read? Fire a cannon? What on earth…”
He drew himself in primly, arms tight around her waist as he chewed his lip nervously, still looking raptly up at her.
“I… I want to wear the blue with you.”
It took a moment for the words to gain meaning, but when they did, Prussia gazed at him with a thunderstruck look in her eyes. She slowly crouched to be of a height with him, both hands on his shoulders as she looked at him so very gravely. He straightened instinctively, still biting down on his lip as he met her eyes steadily.
“Why would you want to wear the blue?”
“Why wouldn’t anyone want to wear the blue?” He blurted out. “Who doesn’t dream of riding and fighting and warring shoulder-to-shoulder with valiant knights in honour of the fatherland and his king?”
Prussia grinned slightly. “I’m valiant now, am I?”
He flushed deeply, threatening the urge to fidget with the hem of his waistcoat. He mumbled something inaudible to his feet.
She placed a palm on his cheek, thumb caressing gently and making him meet her gaze once again. She sighed.
“It is true that I don’t know what your purpose is, only that your destiny is mine to mould. It is also true that inevitably, indubitably, you will wear the blue and join me into battle. But do not force that day, young one. You will despise me.”
“Never,” the rebuttal was startled out of him but he felt the words in his very bones. “I would never, never despise you. I promise you, I would never-”
“Promises are easy to make when your belly is filled with meat and mead, and your hands are warm, and your mind is calm,” she said with a little sort of smile he had never seen before that made his heart ache. “I am a terrible master. You may not hate me now, but you will grow to despise me once you are at my mercy. The army of Prussia is harsh, as you know. It will be harsher at my hands because you are my boy.”
“If you worry than perhaps I could be assigned to another master,” he stammered out.
“That is unthinkable,” she replied firmly. “You are my responsibility.”
He weighed her words heavily in his mind, turning them over and over again until he finally replied with the only thing that remained in his arsenal.
“I love you.”
He saw her expression shift, misty to sad to resigned. Hesitantly, he took this as a sign that he might have the upper hand and pressed onwards.
“And you are kind to me. I hear people whisper that you are cold and merciless and harsh but I know that it is never your intention. Your motives are always true. If you are cruel to me, I know it is not because it pleases you, but because you believe it is what is right. If you hurt me and I curse you, it is because I am weak, my lord, not because I am hateful. Because I love you. And I would not stop at the expense of blood or sweat or bone.”
She gazed at him in awe. “You are nine. Nine-year-olds are not supposed to be eloquent.”
“I am arguing my case in order to procure conditions favourable to my party in the course of our negotiations.”
Prussia’s lips quirked but she stifled the smile quickly to ask him one question.
“Why do you love me?”
He flushed, stammering over his words and staring at his feet but managed to reply.
“Because… Because you are my sister.”
He twisted the hem of his waistcoat in his hands, suddenly shy and sheepish and for all the world small. He dragged his eyes back up to her face, finding it difficult now as he had not before.
“Do you… love me?”
“Have mercy,” she muttered, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. “I’ll do whatever you want, you damned siren. Never ask that question of me again.”
He smiled slowly, pleased at this turn of event as he reciprocated the embrace.
“So we are agreed that I am now just ‘West’, yes?”
“Yes,” her reply was muffled as she hugged him tighter. “But you will don the blue when I damned well say you’re going to and that means being older than nine.”
“I think that condition agrees with me.”
West couldn’t help the grin as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against his sister’s.
“Well, well, well! His aim’s not bad at all!”
Beside him, Prussia ruffled his hair affectionately.
“My little Western boy’s got steady hands.”
“I’m not little anymore,” he grumbled, pushing away Prussia’s hand. “Stop calling me that.”
She shot him a look, wryness still evident in the twist of her mouth even as the quartermaster cuffed his ear.
“Manners, boy! What would the king say if he were to hear you say that?”
“My apologies,” he grumbled and, at a threatening look from the quartermaster, he apologised once again - properly and formally.
“No harm,” Prussia forgave with ease, still amused. “My boy thinks he is not little.”
“Indeed I am not, my lord,” he was hot to argue but remembered the quartermaster’s rebuke and kept his manners. “I beg for a moniker suited for someone above the age of five, if it pleases you.”
At that, Prussia’s smile morphed into a grin with too many teeth. She sidled along and slipped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him up against her. He flushed at the proximity and at their placement as buried his face in her stomach. Unwillingly, he brought both hands up to cling to the fabric of her coat and flushed deeper at his childish response to her loose embrace.
She was quiet a moment before she spoke again, voice a little lower. “Dear heart,” and he noted the wry endearment that made him feel his youth even further and drove that blush of his to a brilliant crimson, “You may grow tall and wide but even so you will always be my little Western boy.”
“I would not deny that,” he sulked into her uniform, “Only I am not little.”
“Why, pray, are you in such a hurry to grow?”
To don the blue and sing the songs. “I want to ride and shoot.”
“But you already are, Little West.”
“West,” he said fiercely. “Only West.”
Above, he heard Prussia sigh and felt her roll her eyes. She wound both her arms tightly around him, resting a hand in his hair where she stroked gently.
“You are still young to be in that heinous age of rebellion.”
“I am not rebelling,” he complained, finally peering up at her, “I am negotiating.”
“Negotiating.”
“It is the means by which two or more parties come to agreement through compromise, nominally verbal in nature though a manner of recompense-”
“Thus, you must also be aware that negotiation implies something to be gained by all parties.” She quirked a brow at him. “My reward?”
“My rapt and undivided attention.”
Prussia barked laughter. “You say that as though I do not have it.”
He struggled, aware that he had been caught in a trap and did not know how to rescue himself. The quartermaster briefly bade his farewells at them, smiling at the fraternal intimacy between the two as he excused himself.
He finally managed to think. “I would deny you of it.”
“I would like to see you try.”
He bit on his lower lip. Trapped. He could try, certainly he could, but the concept was not just appallingly rude, it was also unthinkable. He could not ignore his sister even if she acted like a varlet. Especially if she acted like a varlet. She was so very good at acting like a varlet and it enraptured him.
Prussia watched the inner war with amusement and gently touched his cheek, regaining his attention.
“My boy, do not rush to grow up. You are in your sweetest years and I would like to keep them for as long as I am able.”
“But…”
“Come now,” she smiled tenderly at him, a smile few had the privilege of, “You want to ride and shoot. I have given you that, Little West. Are you still unsatisfied?”
“I can read now,” he said, “But… I still need to drink beer and fire a cannon.”
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He drew himself in primly, arms tight around her waist as he chewed his lip nervously, still looking raptly up at her.
“I… I want to wear the blue with you.”
It took a moment for the words to gain meaning, but when they did, Prussia gazed at him with a thunderstruck look in her eyes. She slowly crouched to be of a height with him, both hands on his shoulders as she looked at him so very gravely. He straightened instinctively, still biting down on his lip as he met her eyes steadily.
“Why would you want to wear the blue?”
“Why wouldn’t anyone want to wear the blue?” He blurted out. “Who doesn’t dream of riding and fighting and warring shoulder-to-shoulder with valiant knights in honour of the fatherland and his king?”
Prussia grinned slightly. “I’m valiant now, am I?”
He flushed deeply, threatening the urge to fidget with the hem of his waistcoat. He mumbled something inaudible to his feet.
She placed a palm on his cheek, thumb caressing gently and making him meet her gaze once again. She sighed.
“It is true that I don’t know what your purpose is, only that your destiny is mine to mould. It is also true that inevitably, indubitably, you will wear the blue and join me into battle. But do not force that day, young one. You will despise me.”
“Never,” the rebuttal was startled out of him but he felt the words in his very bones. “I would never, never despise you. I promise you, I would never-”
“Promises are easy to make when your belly is filled with meat and mead, and your hands are warm, and your mind is calm,” she said with a little sort of smile he had never seen before that made his heart ache. “I am a terrible master. You may not hate me now, but you will grow to despise me once you are at my mercy. The army of Prussia is harsh, as you know. It will be harsher at my hands because you are my boy.”
“If you worry than perhaps I could be assigned to another master,” he stammered out.
“That is unthinkable,” she replied firmly. “You are my responsibility.”
He weighed her words heavily in his mind, turning them over and over again until he finally replied with the only thing that remained in his arsenal.
“I love you.”
He saw her expression shift, misty to sad to resigned. Hesitantly, he took this as a sign that he might have the upper hand and pressed onwards.
“And you are kind to me. I hear people whisper that you are cold and merciless and harsh but I know that it is never your intention. Your motives are always true. If you are cruel to me, I know it is not because it pleases you, but because you believe it is what is right. If you hurt me and I curse you, it is because I am weak, my lord, not because I am hateful. Because I love you. And I would not stop at the expense of blood or sweat or bone.”
She gazed at him in awe. “You are nine. Nine-year-olds are not supposed to be eloquent.”
“I am arguing my case in order to procure conditions favourable to my party in the course of our negotiations.”
Prussia’s lips quirked but she stifled the smile quickly to ask him one question.
“Why do you love me?”
He flushed, stammering over his words and staring at his feet but managed to reply.
“Because… Because you are my sister.”
He twisted the hem of his waistcoat in his hands, suddenly shy and sheepish and for all the world small. He dragged his eyes back up to her face, finding it difficult now as he had not before.
“Do you… love me?”
“Have mercy,” she muttered, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. “I’ll do whatever you want, you damned siren. Never ask that question of me again.”
He smiled slowly, pleased at this turn of event as he reciprocated the embrace.
“So we are agreed that I am now just ‘West’, yes?”
“Yes,” her reply was muffled as she hugged him tighter. “But you will don the blue when I damned well say you’re going to and that means being older than nine.”
“I think that condition agrees with me.”
West couldn’t help the grin as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against his sister’s.
THE END.
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WOW THis is such a good fill oh my god i lost hope for iT AND IT GOT FILLED WITH THIS REALLY REALLY EXCELLENT FILL OH MY GOD
thank you so much wow this was pretty much exacTly what i was looking for the whole becoming a family thing is a really nice touch ahhhh
wow not to mention it was incrediblY CUTE and they were both ic ahhhh man this is really good i'm so happy
thank you so much a!anon i love you!!!!!
idk if you'll ever see this though :(
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