[Fic] [Round 9] Title: Eponymous, Rating: PG
Author: Isha
Title: Eponymous
Pairings: Gwendal/Anissina
Word Count: 2,456
Rating: PG for some swear words
Any Warnings:None, really.
Prompt being used: Quote-"The day started with bad omen birds and went downhill from there."
Timeline: It’s been a few years since the war with the humans.
Disclaimer: I own none of these very entertaining characters, please don’t sue me. Thank you.
Part of my Gwendal/Anissina series. Follows from ‘Awakenings’.
~
The day started with bad omen birds and went downhill from there.
Of course, normally he was not one to believe in superstition and bad luck, but there really was nothing else it could be.
Gwendal had woken up to the sound of sparrows outside his window, their twittering causing him to wince at the thought of the hysterics that would now follow from the maids; with much wailing about the ‘endless bad luck that was sure to rain down upon them all, Shinou help us’, and he had shaken his head at the thought as he had pulled on his shirt. He really could not understand why his mother insisted on having them around the castle, they were singularly useless, but she had been surprisingly vehement in her defense of them.
The maids had been avoiding him of late, ever since he had tried to have them fired two weeks ago. He did not know if it was because they knew of his displeasure, or because his mother had orchestrated it so that they were not often in his presence, but he was grateful nonetheless. It was bad enough that he had begun looking at Anissina differently, he did not need the constant reminder of it that the presence of the maids would bring.
He had shrugged his uniform coat on, buttoning it up quickly at the knock on his door.
‘Enter.’
Thankfully enough, it hadn’t been one of those maids, though he had seen a flash of their distinctive uniforms when the door had opened. It had been Hilde, one of the older maids who had been serving at Covenant Castle for longer than he could remember. She had smiled at him in greeting as she had stepped toward him with his morning tea, and he had nodded back at her. He had relaxed a little as he had taken a brush to his hair, atleast now there would be no hysterics and no squealing. Hilde knew better than that.
This illusion had been shattered when she had dropped the tray she held. There had been a startled, horrified gasp as she had heard the twittering-‘Sparrows!’-and it was only a quick reflex on his part that had him saving the tray, although the cup of tea it had held had crashed to the floor, spilling its contents on him in the process.
He had cursed under his breath, shooting the normally sane woman a furious look.
‘Oh, I knew something like this would happen, your Excellency,’ she had cried, as she had wrung her hands in distress. ‘Nothing good ever comes from sparrows, that’s what my grandmother always said.’
Biting back the words that had sprung to his lips about the woman’s damned grandmother, he had thrust the tray at her. ‘There is nothing unlucky about sparrows, Hilde,’ he had said, scowling at her as he furiously stripped off his now sopping uniform coat, ‘superstitious people like you are simply too scared to think straight at the sound of them, causing unnecessary accidents in your fear.’
‘I’m so sorry, your Excellency,’ the woman had said, looking wretched, and he had waved her away irritably. ‘Don’t bother with more tea. Send some to my office when you have time.’
In the end, he had ended up in only the shirt he had worn under his coat, having left his uniform coat for the cleaning women. The only ones he had had left had been his ceremonial coat, and the one he wore when he had to ride to war; neither of which he wished to wear on a normal day at the Castle.
Having cast a wry glance at himself in the mirror, he had exited the room, leaving behind the still chirping sparrows. He had gotten a few strange looks on his way, being seen in such unusual garb, so it was with a sigh of relief that he had escaped to the quiet of his office, where he could be safe from the superstitions of the ignorant few.
He had enjoyed the peace and quiet for only half an hour before the there was a knock on his door.
It was Hilde again, with an apologetic expression and a cup of tea. And a message, as it turned out.
‘The Maou wishes to see you in her private gardens, your Excellency,’ she said, proferring the tea hesitantly. He took it from her with a frown, setting it on his table as he looked up at her. ‘Immediately?’
She nodded, and he dismissed her as he asked her to tell his mother he would be along shortly. He turned to the proposal in front of him again. Trade had become a problem following the war, most of their allies had suffered as they had, and their human trading partners were in no condition to supply anything to them as well. Things needed to get back to normal, but it seemed unlikely it would happen soon, or without much effort. He frowned again as he took a sip of his tea and stared down at the letters in Gunter’s neat handwriting that spelt out the harsh truth of their kingdom.
Back to normal, he mused. Well, his mother calling him away from his work on one of her whims was, unfortunately, normal.
He got up as he finished his tea, setting all the documents and papers that littered his desk into some order before striding out of the room and to the garden. He soon saw his mother sitting at a small tea table she’d had placed out among the flowers, Conrart and Wolfram were there as well.
As he drew near, she turned to him with a smile, and suddenly, he was filled with a great foreboding. Especially now that he was close enough to see the mischievous look in Wolfram’s eyes.
‘Mother?’
‘Oh, do sit down, Gwendal,’ she cried, and he gave a long suffering sigh and did as he was told. Conrart was having a cup of tea, while Wolfram looked out at the flowers as if recalling a particularly funny joke. He frowned again. Nothing good came of it when his youngest brother smiled that way, he had the memories of countless pranks to prove it.
‘Oh, I’m so glad you changed your look, dear, I told you green wasn’t your colour,’ his mother cried, and he turned to her again as she clasped her hands before her. ‘And look at you now! So handsome, white suits you so much more! I’m so glad you left off that horrid uniform of yours.’
‘Is there a reason we’re all here, mother?’
She pouted as she looked at him in mock hurt, and he rolled his eyes at her display. ‘Is that any way to talk to your mother?’ He didn’t reply, and she went on, ‘Since you ask, I called you here because I couldn’t wait to show you this-after all, it concerns you most closely!’
He darted an enquiring glance at Conrart, but his brother just smiled. He blinked a little, wondering how long it had been since he’d seen him simply smile like that-as he had before the war, his mind supplied-and for a moment, he felt infinitely grateful to his mother for whatever fool thing she was about to ask of him.
‘Well, mother?’
‘Here!’ she cried, and he turned to see that she was pointing to a flower. ‘I’ve finally done it, after all these years!’
He felt himself stiffen as he slowly understood what she was saying. ‘Mother, you didn’t-’
‘Oh, she did, brother,’ Wolfram said, his voice trembling with supressed amusement, and his dread multiplied.
Pushing her chair back, his mother caught up his hand, tugging him to his feet. He went with her reluctantly as she led him to the flowers, Wolfram following them. ‘I give you, Secret Gwendal !’
His eyes widened as he looked down at the flower. It was ten time worse than he could have imagined. Not only had his mother named a flower after him, but it was nothing like him. Altleast the ones named after Conrart were blue, his favourite colour, and the Beautiful Wolframs did put one in mind of his youngest brother, but these…they were nothing like him. They were white, which was a dignified colour, but they were also red. Bright red.
‘Secret Gwendal?’ he sputtered out, and behind him, Wolfram began to laugh.
‘Yes,’ he heard Conrart say, as a chair was pushed back and his brother came to join them. There was sly amusement in his eyes now, though his face was perfectly composed into a serene smile. ‘You see, Mother felt it was a most fitting name.’
‘But Secret Gwendal?’ he insisted, shooting his mother a look. ‘What utter nonsense.’
‘What’s all this about a secret?’
He turned in dread at the sound of the voice, hoping that if he wished it strongly enough, the person behind him would go away. Perhaps sparrows really do bring bad luck, he thought wildly, as he turned to meet Anissina’s mildly curious gaze.
‘It’s nothing,’ he told her shortly, while Wolfram continued to laugh.
‘Oh, Gwennie, you can be so mean, sometimes,’ his mother said, taking Anissina by the hand and drawing her forward. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Anissina, I’ve finally been able to grow it,’ she cried excitedly. ‘Anissina, I give you: Secret Gwendal!’
He cringed at the moment of stunned silence from Anissina, anticipating the laughter that would undoubtedly follow. His mother had been trying to grow a flower named for him for years now, he had always been grateful she had declared him 'a most difficult subject, nothing seemed to fit'. Anissina had laughed herself silly when she had first heard of the idea, nearly fifty years ago now, suggesting more and more ridiculous names for the flower that would eventually come into the world. ‘Frowning Gwendal’ had been only one of them, and in the end even he had been forced to laughter at the thought of it.
Now, however, for some strange reason, the thought of her laughing at him was particularly hard to bear.
~
‘Secret Gwendal?’ Anissina said, looking down at the flowers the Maou was pointing at. She nodded slowly. ‘Yes, it seems to fit.’
‘You can’t be serious, Anissina,’ Wolfram choked out behind her, and she turned to find the boy laughing. She frowned at him before turning to Conrart, seeing the humour glimmering in his eyes, and she realised that they had expected her to find it funny, for some reason.
She turned, looking down at the flowers before her again. With a quick glance of permission at Lady Celi, she plucked one of them off its stem, holding it up so she could examine it more closely. Wonderingly, she touched it; the petals were white, but the heart of the flower was a deep, violent red. A subtle fragrance drifted up to her, and she smiled as she ran a gentle finger over the soft petals.
‘It fits,’ she said again, turning to Gwendal, smiling at the disconcerted look that had overtaken his face at her words. He looked remarkably different out of his uniform, the stiff, starchy look that always hung about him had vanished, and he suddenly looked again like the little boy she had once known.
She decided she liked this look.
She had not expected to find him here. She had come looking for Gunter, the man had disappeared, and she needed a test subject for the latest idea she had. She knew she could have asked Gwendal-he had promised her, after all-but after that talk with Gisela a few weeks ago, she had started seeing him differently. Not like a friend, like someone she had known all her life, but as a man-a very attractive man, if truth be told.
It was not how she was accustomed to thinking of Gwendal, and so she had begun to avoid him, in the hopes that if she didn’t have to look at him, perhaps his physical appeal would start to fade. After all, this was Gwendal. She had known him forever, and this thing that had developed was only a few weeks old, at most.
It couldn’t last.
And so she had been understandably taken aback to see him the gardens with his family-and out of his uniform-and she would’ve turned around and slipped away unnoticed, but at the mention of a ‘secret’, her damnable curiosity had led her to them.
‘What nonsense,’ he muttered now. ‘How on earth does it fit me?’
His brothers had stopped laughing now, and were looking at her quizzically, as if they wanted to know the answer, too. She rolled her eyes impatiently. Men. They couldn’t see something when it was staring them right in the face. No heads for subtlety, that was the problem.
‘It’s like you,’ she explained, holding the flower out to Gwendal so he could see it as she spoke. ‘On the surface, it seems like nothing special, its petals are a dull, boring white. But inside,’ she stroked the red centre with a finger, ‘there is this. Red. Passionate and full of life and so vibrantly beautiful. Beauty that is hidden away, like the scent-it’s very subtle, but it’s there if you know what you’re looking for.’
She blushed as she looked up, suddenly aware that she had revealed too much, and saw that Gwendal was blushing, as well, his eyes still on the flower. It was then that she realised she was still stroking the inner petals, and she blushed again as she dropped her finger, confusedly moving the flower from one hand to the other.
‘See?’ Lady Celi cried triumphantly, and the moment was broken. She hid her relief as she turned to the Maou as the woman went on. ‘I told you it fit, Gwendal. You should listen to your mother more often.’
He said nothing in reply, and Anissina decided that it was time to go. She had lingered here long enough, and the image of a blushing Gwendal in his white shirt was not something that would help her fight this strange new attraction to him.
‘Has anyone seen Gunter?’ she asked briskly, hoping to distance herself from what had just happened. They all shook their heads. ‘Well, I can’t imagine where he can be, unless he’s hiding from me…’
She trailed off as she shook her head. ‘Well, I’ll be off now, I’m working on something new,’ she said, giving the family an absentminded bow as she turned and walked away.
She didn’t realise she had taken the flower with her until much later.
~
A/N: Finally done before the deadline, yay!
Thanks for reading, all concrit is very welcome. I wrote this in the middle of exams in quite a hurry, so if there are any mistakes-grammatical or canonical-please let me know, thanks. =)
Sequel is Parting
Title: Eponymous
Pairings: Gwendal/Anissina
Word Count: 2,456
Rating: PG for some swear words
Any Warnings:None, really.
Prompt being used: Quote-"The day started with bad omen birds and went downhill from there."
Timeline: It’s been a few years since the war with the humans.
Disclaimer: I own none of these very entertaining characters, please don’t sue me. Thank you.
Part of my Gwendal/Anissina series. Follows from ‘Awakenings’.
~
The day started with bad omen birds and went downhill from there.
Of course, normally he was not one to believe in superstition and bad luck, but there really was nothing else it could be.
Gwendal had woken up to the sound of sparrows outside his window, their twittering causing him to wince at the thought of the hysterics that would now follow from the maids; with much wailing about the ‘endless bad luck that was sure to rain down upon them all, Shinou help us’, and he had shaken his head at the thought as he had pulled on his shirt. He really could not understand why his mother insisted on having them around the castle, they were singularly useless, but she had been surprisingly vehement in her defense of them.
The maids had been avoiding him of late, ever since he had tried to have them fired two weeks ago. He did not know if it was because they knew of his displeasure, or because his mother had orchestrated it so that they were not often in his presence, but he was grateful nonetheless. It was bad enough that he had begun looking at Anissina differently, he did not need the constant reminder of it that the presence of the maids would bring.
He had shrugged his uniform coat on, buttoning it up quickly at the knock on his door.
‘Enter.’
Thankfully enough, it hadn’t been one of those maids, though he had seen a flash of their distinctive uniforms when the door had opened. It had been Hilde, one of the older maids who had been serving at Covenant Castle for longer than he could remember. She had smiled at him in greeting as she had stepped toward him with his morning tea, and he had nodded back at her. He had relaxed a little as he had taken a brush to his hair, atleast now there would be no hysterics and no squealing. Hilde knew better than that.
This illusion had been shattered when she had dropped the tray she held. There had been a startled, horrified gasp as she had heard the twittering-‘Sparrows!’-and it was only a quick reflex on his part that had him saving the tray, although the cup of tea it had held had crashed to the floor, spilling its contents on him in the process.
He had cursed under his breath, shooting the normally sane woman a furious look.
‘Oh, I knew something like this would happen, your Excellency,’ she had cried, as she had wrung her hands in distress. ‘Nothing good ever comes from sparrows, that’s what my grandmother always said.’
Biting back the words that had sprung to his lips about the woman’s damned grandmother, he had thrust the tray at her. ‘There is nothing unlucky about sparrows, Hilde,’ he had said, scowling at her as he furiously stripped off his now sopping uniform coat, ‘superstitious people like you are simply too scared to think straight at the sound of them, causing unnecessary accidents in your fear.’
‘I’m so sorry, your Excellency,’ the woman had said, looking wretched, and he had waved her away irritably. ‘Don’t bother with more tea. Send some to my office when you have time.’
In the end, he had ended up in only the shirt he had worn under his coat, having left his uniform coat for the cleaning women. The only ones he had had left had been his ceremonial coat, and the one he wore when he had to ride to war; neither of which he wished to wear on a normal day at the Castle.
Having cast a wry glance at himself in the mirror, he had exited the room, leaving behind the still chirping sparrows. He had gotten a few strange looks on his way, being seen in such unusual garb, so it was with a sigh of relief that he had escaped to the quiet of his office, where he could be safe from the superstitions of the ignorant few.
He had enjoyed the peace and quiet for only half an hour before the there was a knock on his door.
It was Hilde again, with an apologetic expression and a cup of tea. And a message, as it turned out.
‘The Maou wishes to see you in her private gardens, your Excellency,’ she said, proferring the tea hesitantly. He took it from her with a frown, setting it on his table as he looked up at her. ‘Immediately?’
She nodded, and he dismissed her as he asked her to tell his mother he would be along shortly. He turned to the proposal in front of him again. Trade had become a problem following the war, most of their allies had suffered as they had, and their human trading partners were in no condition to supply anything to them as well. Things needed to get back to normal, but it seemed unlikely it would happen soon, or without much effort. He frowned again as he took a sip of his tea and stared down at the letters in Gunter’s neat handwriting that spelt out the harsh truth of their kingdom.
Back to normal, he mused. Well, his mother calling him away from his work on one of her whims was, unfortunately, normal.
He got up as he finished his tea, setting all the documents and papers that littered his desk into some order before striding out of the room and to the garden. He soon saw his mother sitting at a small tea table she’d had placed out among the flowers, Conrart and Wolfram were there as well.
As he drew near, she turned to him with a smile, and suddenly, he was filled with a great foreboding. Especially now that he was close enough to see the mischievous look in Wolfram’s eyes.
‘Mother?’
‘Oh, do sit down, Gwendal,’ she cried, and he gave a long suffering sigh and did as he was told. Conrart was having a cup of tea, while Wolfram looked out at the flowers as if recalling a particularly funny joke. He frowned again. Nothing good came of it when his youngest brother smiled that way, he had the memories of countless pranks to prove it.
‘Oh, I’m so glad you changed your look, dear, I told you green wasn’t your colour,’ his mother cried, and he turned to her again as she clasped her hands before her. ‘And look at you now! So handsome, white suits you so much more! I’m so glad you left off that horrid uniform of yours.’
‘Is there a reason we’re all here, mother?’
She pouted as she looked at him in mock hurt, and he rolled his eyes at her display. ‘Is that any way to talk to your mother?’ He didn’t reply, and she went on, ‘Since you ask, I called you here because I couldn’t wait to show you this-after all, it concerns you most closely!’
He darted an enquiring glance at Conrart, but his brother just smiled. He blinked a little, wondering how long it had been since he’d seen him simply smile like that-as he had before the war, his mind supplied-and for a moment, he felt infinitely grateful to his mother for whatever fool thing she was about to ask of him.
‘Well, mother?’
‘Here!’ she cried, and he turned to see that she was pointing to a flower. ‘I’ve finally done it, after all these years!’
He felt himself stiffen as he slowly understood what she was saying. ‘Mother, you didn’t-’
‘Oh, she did, brother,’ Wolfram said, his voice trembling with supressed amusement, and his dread multiplied.
Pushing her chair back, his mother caught up his hand, tugging him to his feet. He went with her reluctantly as she led him to the flowers, Wolfram following them. ‘I give you, Secret Gwendal !’
His eyes widened as he looked down at the flower. It was ten time worse than he could have imagined. Not only had his mother named a flower after him, but it was nothing like him. Altleast the ones named after Conrart were blue, his favourite colour, and the Beautiful Wolframs did put one in mind of his youngest brother, but these…they were nothing like him. They were white, which was a dignified colour, but they were also red. Bright red.
‘Secret Gwendal?’ he sputtered out, and behind him, Wolfram began to laugh.
‘Yes,’ he heard Conrart say, as a chair was pushed back and his brother came to join them. There was sly amusement in his eyes now, though his face was perfectly composed into a serene smile. ‘You see, Mother felt it was a most fitting name.’
‘But Secret Gwendal?’ he insisted, shooting his mother a look. ‘What utter nonsense.’
‘What’s all this about a secret?’
He turned in dread at the sound of the voice, hoping that if he wished it strongly enough, the person behind him would go away. Perhaps sparrows really do bring bad luck, he thought wildly, as he turned to meet Anissina’s mildly curious gaze.
‘It’s nothing,’ he told her shortly, while Wolfram continued to laugh.
‘Oh, Gwennie, you can be so mean, sometimes,’ his mother said, taking Anissina by the hand and drawing her forward. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Anissina, I’ve finally been able to grow it,’ she cried excitedly. ‘Anissina, I give you: Secret Gwendal!’
He cringed at the moment of stunned silence from Anissina, anticipating the laughter that would undoubtedly follow. His mother had been trying to grow a flower named for him for years now, he had always been grateful she had declared him 'a most difficult subject, nothing seemed to fit'. Anissina had laughed herself silly when she had first heard of the idea, nearly fifty years ago now, suggesting more and more ridiculous names for the flower that would eventually come into the world. ‘Frowning Gwendal’ had been only one of them, and in the end even he had been forced to laughter at the thought of it.
Now, however, for some strange reason, the thought of her laughing at him was particularly hard to bear.
~
‘Secret Gwendal?’ Anissina said, looking down at the flowers the Maou was pointing at. She nodded slowly. ‘Yes, it seems to fit.’
‘You can’t be serious, Anissina,’ Wolfram choked out behind her, and she turned to find the boy laughing. She frowned at him before turning to Conrart, seeing the humour glimmering in his eyes, and she realised that they had expected her to find it funny, for some reason.
She turned, looking down at the flowers before her again. With a quick glance of permission at Lady Celi, she plucked one of them off its stem, holding it up so she could examine it more closely. Wonderingly, she touched it; the petals were white, but the heart of the flower was a deep, violent red. A subtle fragrance drifted up to her, and she smiled as she ran a gentle finger over the soft petals.
‘It fits,’ she said again, turning to Gwendal, smiling at the disconcerted look that had overtaken his face at her words. He looked remarkably different out of his uniform, the stiff, starchy look that always hung about him had vanished, and he suddenly looked again like the little boy she had once known.
She decided she liked this look.
She had not expected to find him here. She had come looking for Gunter, the man had disappeared, and she needed a test subject for the latest idea she had. She knew she could have asked Gwendal-he had promised her, after all-but after that talk with Gisela a few weeks ago, she had started seeing him differently. Not like a friend, like someone she had known all her life, but as a man-a very attractive man, if truth be told.
It was not how she was accustomed to thinking of Gwendal, and so she had begun to avoid him, in the hopes that if she didn’t have to look at him, perhaps his physical appeal would start to fade. After all, this was Gwendal. She had known him forever, and this thing that had developed was only a few weeks old, at most.
It couldn’t last.
And so she had been understandably taken aback to see him the gardens with his family-and out of his uniform-and she would’ve turned around and slipped away unnoticed, but at the mention of a ‘secret’, her damnable curiosity had led her to them.
‘What nonsense,’ he muttered now. ‘How on earth does it fit me?’
His brothers had stopped laughing now, and were looking at her quizzically, as if they wanted to know the answer, too. She rolled her eyes impatiently. Men. They couldn’t see something when it was staring them right in the face. No heads for subtlety, that was the problem.
‘It’s like you,’ she explained, holding the flower out to Gwendal so he could see it as she spoke. ‘On the surface, it seems like nothing special, its petals are a dull, boring white. But inside,’ she stroked the red centre with a finger, ‘there is this. Red. Passionate and full of life and so vibrantly beautiful. Beauty that is hidden away, like the scent-it’s very subtle, but it’s there if you know what you’re looking for.’
She blushed as she looked up, suddenly aware that she had revealed too much, and saw that Gwendal was blushing, as well, his eyes still on the flower. It was then that she realised she was still stroking the inner petals, and she blushed again as she dropped her finger, confusedly moving the flower from one hand to the other.
‘See?’ Lady Celi cried triumphantly, and the moment was broken. She hid her relief as she turned to the Maou as the woman went on. ‘I told you it fit, Gwendal. You should listen to your mother more often.’
He said nothing in reply, and Anissina decided that it was time to go. She had lingered here long enough, and the image of a blushing Gwendal in his white shirt was not something that would help her fight this strange new attraction to him.
‘Has anyone seen Gunter?’ she asked briskly, hoping to distance herself from what had just happened. They all shook their heads. ‘Well, I can’t imagine where he can be, unless he’s hiding from me…’
She trailed off as she shook her head. ‘Well, I’ll be off now, I’m working on something new,’ she said, giving the family an absentminded bow as she turned and walked away.
She didn’t realise she had taken the flower with her until much later.
~
A/N: Finally done before the deadline, yay!
Thanks for reading, all concrit is very welcome. I wrote this in the middle of exams in quite a hurry, so if there are any mistakes-grammatical or canonical-please let me know, thanks. =)
Sequel is Parting