The Orpheus Gambit [Piper/Trickster]
Canon Status: Arguably post-current canon, but multiple titles are in the middle of Jossing it, so probably not.
Genre: Fix-it fic.
Rating: G.
Characters: Pied Piper, Trickster I.
Pairing: Piper/Trickster.
Warnings: Lack of research. Mankissing.
Notes: piper_trickster Fic Battle, prompt "Orpheus".
Summary: A tale as old as time, a song if not as old as rhyme then certainly not much younger.
Neron only laughed at Piper’s request. “Bargain with me? What do you have left to bargain with? Not even your soul, interesting as it is, is worth the chance to have an eternity of words with that thorn in my side.”
Piper did not reply in words, just lifted his flute from its case and began slowly, methodically fitting it together.
“Someone’s been listening to too many pretty stories. I’m not Hades, sentimental fool that he is. If you think you can play a little tune and get me to let your boyfriend go out of remorse, go right ahead. Let me know when you have a serious offer.”
He smiled, raising the flute to his lips. “Here’s the offer, Neron: give me Trickster’s soul back, let us both go back alive and well, and I’ll stop.”
And then he started to play.
The music filled the room, echoed through the rocky walls into the very depths of Hell where captive souls writhed in torment or waited despairing for the end of days. The tune was nothing special, nothing to move the heart or entangle the mind, but where it passed shackles and stone walls crumbled to dust and dreams. Freed, souls fled their prisons or turned on their torturers.
Around Neron the walls shuddered, his very throne shook as the Piper played. With every note the kingdom of Hell trembled further beneath the assault.
Not even Neron could hold out long against the force that poured from the flute. “Fine! Take him and go! If you can make it out without looking back, you can have him and welcome! Only stop that music!”
Piper lowered his flute. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Neron. I hope I never see you again.”
The path up out of Hell was longer than the path into it had been. Chill winds blew down into the dark, tempting him to stop just for a moment and rest. Something screamed like a wild beast behind him. For most people it would have been instinct to turn and look for the threat, but Piper had different instincts. He listened and heard nothing but phantasms, no sound of claws or wings. In the cold and the dark, he kept walking. He had been through worse for longer and less reward. And on the path behind him he began to hear the sound of feet.
He stepped out onto the grass of a twilight meadow, nowhere in particular, just a place he had not been followed and could be sure no one would accidentally stumble on the door. Even then, he kept his eyes forward. He knew the story. He waited until the footsteps behind him were joined by the sounds of breath and heartbeat, until he heard Trickster laugh, a sound not even Neron with all his power could quite imitate.
Then he turned and fell into Trickster’s open arms.
“I did it,” he whispered to convince himself that he was not on the verge of waking. “I did it, I did it, I did it.”
“How did you do it? What was that? Did you always have that much power?” There was no fear in Trickster’s face, or Piper would have broken once more.
“I’m still not sure about any of that. There are things-I never knew I never knew. It’s been a strange few weeks.”
“Only that long? It felt like longer.” Trickster was smiling, but serious. “Thanks, Piper. Hartley. Thanks for getting me out of there.”
“What else was I supposed to do? I was getting bored without you to drag out of trouble.”
More passed between them in the space between words than in the words themselves, for without saying a word of such things they were kissing for the first time like lovers long torn apart, crushing each other close under the last glow of the sunset sky.
Genre: Fix-it fic.
Rating: G.
Characters: Pied Piper, Trickster I.
Pairing: Piper/Trickster.
Warnings: Lack of research. Mankissing.
Notes: piper_trickster Fic Battle, prompt "Orpheus".
Summary: A tale as old as time, a song if not as old as rhyme then certainly not much younger.
Neron only laughed at Piper’s request. “Bargain with me? What do you have left to bargain with? Not even your soul, interesting as it is, is worth the chance to have an eternity of words with that thorn in my side.”
Piper did not reply in words, just lifted his flute from its case and began slowly, methodically fitting it together.
“Someone’s been listening to too many pretty stories. I’m not Hades, sentimental fool that he is. If you think you can play a little tune and get me to let your boyfriend go out of remorse, go right ahead. Let me know when you have a serious offer.”
He smiled, raising the flute to his lips. “Here’s the offer, Neron: give me Trickster’s soul back, let us both go back alive and well, and I’ll stop.”
And then he started to play.
The music filled the room, echoed through the rocky walls into the very depths of Hell where captive souls writhed in torment or waited despairing for the end of days. The tune was nothing special, nothing to move the heart or entangle the mind, but where it passed shackles and stone walls crumbled to dust and dreams. Freed, souls fled their prisons or turned on their torturers.
Around Neron the walls shuddered, his very throne shook as the Piper played. With every note the kingdom of Hell trembled further beneath the assault.
Not even Neron could hold out long against the force that poured from the flute. “Fine! Take him and go! If you can make it out without looking back, you can have him and welcome! Only stop that music!”
Piper lowered his flute. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Neron. I hope I never see you again.”
The path up out of Hell was longer than the path into it had been. Chill winds blew down into the dark, tempting him to stop just for a moment and rest. Something screamed like a wild beast behind him. For most people it would have been instinct to turn and look for the threat, but Piper had different instincts. He listened and heard nothing but phantasms, no sound of claws or wings. In the cold and the dark, he kept walking. He had been through worse for longer and less reward. And on the path behind him he began to hear the sound of feet.
He stepped out onto the grass of a twilight meadow, nowhere in particular, just a place he had not been followed and could be sure no one would accidentally stumble on the door. Even then, he kept his eyes forward. He knew the story. He waited until the footsteps behind him were joined by the sounds of breath and heartbeat, until he heard Trickster laugh, a sound not even Neron with all his power could quite imitate.
Then he turned and fell into Trickster’s open arms.
“I did it,” he whispered to convince himself that he was not on the verge of waking. “I did it, I did it, I did it.”
“How did you do it? What was that? Did you always have that much power?” There was no fear in Trickster’s face, or Piper would have broken once more.
“I’m still not sure about any of that. There are things-I never knew I never knew. It’s been a strange few weeks.”
“Only that long? It felt like longer.” Trickster was smiling, but serious. “Thanks, Piper. Hartley. Thanks for getting me out of there.”
“What else was I supposed to do? I was getting bored without you to drag out of trouble.”
More passed between them in the space between words than in the words themselves, for without saying a word of such things they were kissing for the first time like lovers long torn apart, crushing each other close under the last glow of the sunset sky.