"Lead Me Not Into" (Hornblower fic from aos_challenge)
Lead Me Not Into…
By Lokei
Universe: Hornblower
Characters: Hornblower, Kennedy, appreciation and hinting ahead
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I play in CSF’s paddling pool, because he has such pretty ships.
Prompt: Quotation Challenge
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"The most dangerous moment comes with victory." ~ Napoleon
1.
His ears were ringing, and Horatio knew he must look as dazed as he felt, deafened and blinded by the screams and smoke of his first battle, bewildered by the blood that streamed more copiously than ever he saw in his father’s surgery.
Even further bewildered by his reaction to the blood on Kennedy’s face. Bloody beautiful.
“Did you see me?” Kennedy’s words tumbled like water along the bow of a vessel under full sail. “I killed two-well, one, certainly-where were you?”
Blinking hard, Horatio wasn’t even entirely sure how to answer. Blind and stumbling in the dark, his mind filled in silently. How could I not see?
2.
It would be so easy. Simpson’s shot was fired, falling short of its mark, failing to kill him. The man himself was a gibbering, pleading pile of rags on the sand, and Horatio’s pistol was still loaded, his honor still unsatisfied.
Kennedy still dead, and at the hand of one who was not fit to shine his buttons, let alone breathe the same air.
It was so tempting. Horatio’s blood ran hot under his fingers, clenched at his shoulder, hotter still through the fingers clenched on the pistol. Not worthy, his mind repeated, sounding more like Archie than ever before.
The shot rang out. “You’re not worth the powder.” Horatio’s lip curled; he turned away.
3.
Pellew was not the sort who frequently turned a blind eye. It was generally far better for the men to believe that the Captain saw and knew everything which happened aboard his vessel-better for discipline, better for authority, better for all to walk with just that little smidgen of fear in their heart which was better than arrogance.
This, however, he thought perhaps might be the exception that proved the rule. Hornblower, against all odds, had escaped-with all but one of his men-the Spanish prison, and retrieved Kennedy to boot. Any other man would be doing a jig in celebration of his freedom and begging Pellew to set sail as far from the Spanish coast as orders and the wind would allow.
And yet here Hornblower stood, heart in his eyes, having just declared that he had given his word to return-and had given his word for the parole of the others as well, even Kennedy. If the man had actually been a tightly strung violin he could have been vibrating with tension no more obviously, clinging to the brink of some emotion to which Pellew thought it better to give no name.
Not that he could avoid it in the next minute, when he saw it blazing so recognizably from a pair of determined blue eyes as well, and the relief which shone in Hornblower’s.
Dangerous. Damned dangerous for the pair of them, but nothing Pellew could or would do about it. Time would tell if such winds blew fair or foul.
4.
The carefully worded reports made it sound like glorious adventure-the valiant but ultimately tragic captain, the loyal lieutenants Bush and Hornblower, the brave capture of the fort and the Spanish ships. There was no mention of the ignominious capture of the Renown aided and abetted by Spanish ladies, nor the price of its recapture in blood spilled needlessly, whether there on the decks or later, quietly, in a prison infirmary.
There was no mention of the fourth lieutenant at all.
Horatio had looked-Pellew had made sure to leave the drafts where Hornblower might see them, might learn to master those speaking eyes and shaking hands in private, so that none might question if the truth perhaps was bent, and things still dearer broken-so that none but the very nearest might know how certain victories could taste of nothing but ashes.
By Lokei
Universe: Hornblower
Characters: Hornblower, Kennedy, appreciation and hinting ahead
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I play in CSF’s paddling pool, because he has such pretty ships.
Prompt: Quotation Challenge
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"The most dangerous moment comes with victory." ~ Napoleon
1.
His ears were ringing, and Horatio knew he must look as dazed as he felt, deafened and blinded by the screams and smoke of his first battle, bewildered by the blood that streamed more copiously than ever he saw in his father’s surgery.
Even further bewildered by his reaction to the blood on Kennedy’s face. Bloody beautiful.
“Did you see me?” Kennedy’s words tumbled like water along the bow of a vessel under full sail. “I killed two-well, one, certainly-where were you?”
Blinking hard, Horatio wasn’t even entirely sure how to answer. Blind and stumbling in the dark, his mind filled in silently. How could I not see?
2.
It would be so easy. Simpson’s shot was fired, falling short of its mark, failing to kill him. The man himself was a gibbering, pleading pile of rags on the sand, and Horatio’s pistol was still loaded, his honor still unsatisfied.
Kennedy still dead, and at the hand of one who was not fit to shine his buttons, let alone breathe the same air.
It was so tempting. Horatio’s blood ran hot under his fingers, clenched at his shoulder, hotter still through the fingers clenched on the pistol. Not worthy, his mind repeated, sounding more like Archie than ever before.
The shot rang out. “You’re not worth the powder.” Horatio’s lip curled; he turned away.
3.
Pellew was not the sort who frequently turned a blind eye. It was generally far better for the men to believe that the Captain saw and knew everything which happened aboard his vessel-better for discipline, better for authority, better for all to walk with just that little smidgen of fear in their heart which was better than arrogance.
This, however, he thought perhaps might be the exception that proved the rule. Hornblower, against all odds, had escaped-with all but one of his men-the Spanish prison, and retrieved Kennedy to boot. Any other man would be doing a jig in celebration of his freedom and begging Pellew to set sail as far from the Spanish coast as orders and the wind would allow.
And yet here Hornblower stood, heart in his eyes, having just declared that he had given his word to return-and had given his word for the parole of the others as well, even Kennedy. If the man had actually been a tightly strung violin he could have been vibrating with tension no more obviously, clinging to the brink of some emotion to which Pellew thought it better to give no name.
Not that he could avoid it in the next minute, when he saw it blazing so recognizably from a pair of determined blue eyes as well, and the relief which shone in Hornblower’s.
Dangerous. Damned dangerous for the pair of them, but nothing Pellew could or would do about it. Time would tell if such winds blew fair or foul.
4.
The carefully worded reports made it sound like glorious adventure-the valiant but ultimately tragic captain, the loyal lieutenants Bush and Hornblower, the brave capture of the fort and the Spanish ships. There was no mention of the ignominious capture of the Renown aided and abetted by Spanish ladies, nor the price of its recapture in blood spilled needlessly, whether there on the decks or later, quietly, in a prison infirmary.
There was no mention of the fourth lieutenant at all.
Horatio had looked-Pellew had made sure to leave the drafts where Hornblower might see them, might learn to master those speaking eyes and shaking hands in private, so that none might question if the truth perhaps was bent, and things still dearer broken-so that none but the very nearest might know how certain victories could taste of nothing but ashes.