It's Pagan Time
Fandom: Pagan Chronicles
Pairing: Roland/Pagan
Rating: T - some violence
Warning: Uhh... fluff?
Summary: Pagan has a nightmare and Roland comforts him.
After reading the most gay, straight young adult series ever, I needed to write a fluff!fic. This was written after reading Pagan's Vows and the setting is after Pagan in Exile, but before the two-some joins the monestary. Ugh, excuse the crappy writing and painful transitions - I suck.
Enjoy!
You can feel the blood-soaked body fall against you, the man’s last breath gasping against your face. His eyes wide and staring at you, mouth open seeming to scream, "Why Pagan? Why?".
"Pagan." The Body feels so cold, yet the blood is so warm on your sword.
"Pagan!" And you’re screaming now because the dead can’t. The world’s exploding and somebody’s screaming your name.
"Pagan!"
Your eyes snap open.
Dark, is the first thought that comes to Pagan’s mind. Then, why is there an angel in the room?
Standing above him is Roland, clad only in worn breeches. The moon is illuminating his blond hair and uncovered chest, making him almost glow. He looks just like a saint from a stained-glass window, but his face is worried.
"My Lord, what is the matter?" Sitting up Pagan can’t help but notice he’s trembling.
Roland’s frown grows. "You were screaming in your sleep, Pagan."
"Perhaps you were mistaken, my Lord." He brings a shaking hand to his face to wipe the cold sweat gathering on his brow.
"Don’t lie to me, Pagan. What were you dreaming of?" Roland’s hand is warm on his shoulder. Suddenly, all Pagan can remember is the blood and how warm it was. It was everywhere--coating his clothes and face. He’s shaking all over and he can’t stop. He can feel the tears prickling at his eyes. The sobs are welling up from his chest, begging to come out and he’s trying so hard not to scre--
He’s cut from his thoughts by Roland’s warm chest against his face. His master’s large hands curl around his back and brings Pagan closer to the strength he’s been latching onto with such desperation.
A sob bubbles up from his throat, and the dam bursts. Pagan’s sobbing and yelling, and his nose is running all over Roland, but he can’t bring himself to care. All that matters is that Roland’s hands are rubbing his back and his beard is scratching Pagan’s forehead as he whispers comforting nonsense in his ear.
Slowly, Pagan’s sobbing disappears, his body stops trembling and instead takes on an exhausted heaviness. Roland’s hands are still rubbing up and down his back, lulling Pagan into a dozing state. Barely conscious, he feels his body being lifted from the bedding, encased in Roland’s strong arms. He grunts when he’s set down but settles down once he feels the familiar warmth of Roland laying at his side. Breathing in that comforting scent, Pagan drifts off to sleep.
Beside him, Roland watches his squire, looking even younger in sleep with his open mouth and messy hair. Pagan has curled slightly, body facing Roland in an unconscious effort to get closer to the heat his body’s providing. Roland can’t help but think of how innocent Pagan looks.
"What would I do without you, Pagan?" Roland kisses the Arab’s forehead and settles into sleep beside the boy who means so much to him. Before he steps into blessed unconsciousness, he feels a small arm curl around his chest. Roland smiles.
Fin.
A.N:
God, it took me forever to decide what to italicize - and I still don't think it turned out right! Oh well, it feels great to get the story out at last. Leave a comment if you liked it, and as always - constructive criticism is taken with sobbing gratefulness. Thanks! =D