Only Taking Turns. (Kyou Kara Maou, Shinou, Ruffas Bielefelt.)
Title: Only Taking Turns.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou.
Warnings: Spoilers about the Ancestors.
Characters/couples: Ruffas Bielefelt, the Shinou. (One sided Ruffas->Shinou)
Summary: As Ruffas tends to his sword, the Shinou comes to make sure he's not overworking himself.
Rating: G.
Notes: Written for cliche_bingo: Secred Identity.
Fic follows: All is Fair. Further notes after the fic.
Only Taking Turns.
It had been easier than she would have expected to grow used once more to being called 'Ruffas'. Now-a-days she thought of herself always as her brother, rather than her own, and she prayed everyday that her brother wouldn't consider it a dishonor for her to carry on with his name and shed hers.
The one time she had mentioned that to Siegbert he had laughed, shaking his head. “No-one would think that, and certainly not your brother, and you know it.”
If anything else, at least she had brought honor back to the Bielefelt name, which she thinks would, at least, ease the dishonor to her ancestors, if she's found out. Over the last two and some years, she has grown upon battle better than she had ever done while staying at home. Now, a general to the proud army of mazoku, she prays for no more than for them to come out victorious of this war, and perhaps for her to see Bielefelt lands once more.
Ruffas likes this new life, even if she is aware that it won't last. As the last of the Bielefelt, she has a duty, and at the very least she knows that Siegbert will be a good husband, and that he won't mind if one of their future children is to take the Bielefelt last name, to ensure that the family would carry on.
But she is not to think about that kind of future just then. That is their promise, yes, but the present is so much more important, with the things they have to lose, and the promises that lord Spitzburg makes for them, to them. And if she wants to follow this young lord, whose words had brought together mazoku and human and everything in between? There is no dishonor in that. Few could resist the Shining One's spirit, his promise of justice, of creating a golden kingdom for them all to live.
There is no dishonor she could fathom on kneeling in front of him as their king.
Ruffas shakes her head, glaring a moment at her own mindfulness because she ought to know not to be so distracted, not when Soushi's spies can hide in the shadows of their own thoughts, and instead she picks her slack once more, working to sharpen her sword.
Sudden steps made her stand up and turn sharply, her fire at her fingertips, ready for her to call.
“Ruffas, I am not averse to my men sleeping, I hope you realize that,” Spitzburg's smile is kind and with just a hint of mischief, his good mood well known to every mazoku that called him their liege. It still makes her blush, a little, the familiar tones he has for her-- or for Ruffas, rather -- how it has been months since he had stopped calling 'Ruffas' sir Bielefelt. She still bows her head.
“I was just finishing with my sword, my lord,” she answers, masking some of the softness of her voice in the way Ruffas' voice used to sound, and it's familiar now, the way to push her voice a little further, thankful that her youth makes it so that it's no surprise the way it sounds.
Spitzburg sighs as he sits by her side. “And still I would be willing to bet against Lawrence's food that you are going to stay awake for longer than it's absolutely needed, my friend.”
Ruffas ducks her head even further, hoping that the light from her fire masked the flush to her face, wondering if she was being chided. Now-a-days only Siegbert ever did that.
Spitzburg's hand closed on her shoulder, and since she had taken off her armor a while ago she could feel the warmth there as he squeezed.
“I mean no offense,” Spitzburg's familiar green eyes said. “I am merely concerned. For all that you all chide me about not taking care of myself, all of you work just as hard or even more. I think I will have to take offense, myself: with how much my five generals and my Sage work, I shall have to believe you have me for a lazy lord who would rather sleep until late while the rest of the world slaves away.”
The tone in his voice betrays his jest, so Ruffas doesn't feel too bad for murmuring: “... we only believe that on Sundays, my lord.”
And the lord laughs, warm and heavy, and Ruffas can feel the sound moving inside her as if it was maryoku, gentle and ever so present, and she curses once more her frail complexion that makes her flush once more at his voice, at his expression.
“That is exactly what I like about you, Ruffas,” Lord Spitzburg say, his smile still there. “You are never afraid of voicing your thoughts, nor of telling me the truth. This is why you have my trust.”
Her voice catches inside her throat and she has to swallow, has to look down. Would he trust her if he knew that she is not Ruffas but Mathilda? That she took her brother's name thinking that it was what he would have wanted, but now she cannot be sure because this has become her life, a much more fulfilling life than the one she was meant to have as merely Siegbert's wife? Would the lord she vowed her loyalty to still consider her worthy if he was to find out for how long she (and Siegbert, after she had beseeched him for this) have made a fool of him? Ruffas masks the movement by pressing her hand to her chest, half bowing, hoping that her eyes do not betray the turmoil inside her.
“... I swear I will do my best to be worthy of that honor, milord.”
“You already are, Ruffas,” Her king smiles, nodding, before he pretends to frown. “Now tend to your sword and then, for the spirits of light and fire upon this land that bless us and you among them all, rest. I need you alert, Ruffas, not heavy with sleep.”
Ruffas nods, and she looks as the lord of the Spitzburg house stands up, walking away, and she adds just for herself: And I will do my best for you to forgive this secret, she adds quietly, just for her sake, before she turns back to finish her sword.
Soon, she thinks. She will tell him soon. Once battles do not rest so close upon them, once they reach the Kleist territory and they get a moment to breath, then she will tell him the truth, that she is Mathilda, not Ruffas, and she will await for her king's judgement.
Soon.
Notes:
* I actually started writing this fic a little after I wrote the first one, but then I went to my KKM break so I never finished it until now. It got more than most of my left-over ideas do, so there.
* YES, I know that Ruffas in the novels is a girl. I DIDN'T KNOW THIS BACK THEN. No, I haven't read the novels - I wish I could, but sadly, I can't - so I have no idea how it was handled or anything. This is merely following my previous fic and idea.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou.
Warnings: Spoilers about the Ancestors.
Characters/couples: Ruffas Bielefelt, the Shinou. (One sided Ruffas->Shinou)
Summary: As Ruffas tends to his sword, the Shinou comes to make sure he's not overworking himself.
Rating: G.
Notes: Written for cliche_bingo: Secred Identity.
Fic follows: All is Fair. Further notes after the fic.
Only Taking Turns.
It had been easier than she would have expected to grow used once more to being called 'Ruffas'. Now-a-days she thought of herself always as her brother, rather than her own, and she prayed everyday that her brother wouldn't consider it a dishonor for her to carry on with his name and shed hers.
The one time she had mentioned that to Siegbert he had laughed, shaking his head. “No-one would think that, and certainly not your brother, and you know it.”
If anything else, at least she had brought honor back to the Bielefelt name, which she thinks would, at least, ease the dishonor to her ancestors, if she's found out. Over the last two and some years, she has grown upon battle better than she had ever done while staying at home. Now, a general to the proud army of mazoku, she prays for no more than for them to come out victorious of this war, and perhaps for her to see Bielefelt lands once more.
Ruffas likes this new life, even if she is aware that it won't last. As the last of the Bielefelt, she has a duty, and at the very least she knows that Siegbert will be a good husband, and that he won't mind if one of their future children is to take the Bielefelt last name, to ensure that the family would carry on.
But she is not to think about that kind of future just then. That is their promise, yes, but the present is so much more important, with the things they have to lose, and the promises that lord Spitzburg makes for them, to them. And if she wants to follow this young lord, whose words had brought together mazoku and human and everything in between? There is no dishonor in that. Few could resist the Shining One's spirit, his promise of justice, of creating a golden kingdom for them all to live.
There is no dishonor she could fathom on kneeling in front of him as their king.
Ruffas shakes her head, glaring a moment at her own mindfulness because she ought to know not to be so distracted, not when Soushi's spies can hide in the shadows of their own thoughts, and instead she picks her slack once more, working to sharpen her sword.
Sudden steps made her stand up and turn sharply, her fire at her fingertips, ready for her to call.
“Ruffas, I am not averse to my men sleeping, I hope you realize that,” Spitzburg's smile is kind and with just a hint of mischief, his good mood well known to every mazoku that called him their liege. It still makes her blush, a little, the familiar tones he has for her-- or for Ruffas, rather -- how it has been months since he had stopped calling 'Ruffas' sir Bielefelt. She still bows her head.
“I was just finishing with my sword, my lord,” she answers, masking some of the softness of her voice in the way Ruffas' voice used to sound, and it's familiar now, the way to push her voice a little further, thankful that her youth makes it so that it's no surprise the way it sounds.
Spitzburg sighs as he sits by her side. “And still I would be willing to bet against Lawrence's food that you are going to stay awake for longer than it's absolutely needed, my friend.”
Ruffas ducks her head even further, hoping that the light from her fire masked the flush to her face, wondering if she was being chided. Now-a-days only Siegbert ever did that.
Spitzburg's hand closed on her shoulder, and since she had taken off her armor a while ago she could feel the warmth there as he squeezed.
“I mean no offense,” Spitzburg's familiar green eyes said. “I am merely concerned. For all that you all chide me about not taking care of myself, all of you work just as hard or even more. I think I will have to take offense, myself: with how much my five generals and my Sage work, I shall have to believe you have me for a lazy lord who would rather sleep until late while the rest of the world slaves away.”
The tone in his voice betrays his jest, so Ruffas doesn't feel too bad for murmuring: “... we only believe that on Sundays, my lord.”
And the lord laughs, warm and heavy, and Ruffas can feel the sound moving inside her as if it was maryoku, gentle and ever so present, and she curses once more her frail complexion that makes her flush once more at his voice, at his expression.
“That is exactly what I like about you, Ruffas,” Lord Spitzburg say, his smile still there. “You are never afraid of voicing your thoughts, nor of telling me the truth. This is why you have my trust.”
Her voice catches inside her throat and she has to swallow, has to look down. Would he trust her if he knew that she is not Ruffas but Mathilda? That she took her brother's name thinking that it was what he would have wanted, but now she cannot be sure because this has become her life, a much more fulfilling life than the one she was meant to have as merely Siegbert's wife? Would the lord she vowed her loyalty to still consider her worthy if he was to find out for how long she (and Siegbert, after she had beseeched him for this) have made a fool of him? Ruffas masks the movement by pressing her hand to her chest, half bowing, hoping that her eyes do not betray the turmoil inside her.
“... I swear I will do my best to be worthy of that honor, milord.”
“You already are, Ruffas,” Her king smiles, nodding, before he pretends to frown. “Now tend to your sword and then, for the spirits of light and fire upon this land that bless us and you among them all, rest. I need you alert, Ruffas, not heavy with sleep.”
Ruffas nods, and she looks as the lord of the Spitzburg house stands up, walking away, and she adds just for herself: And I will do my best for you to forgive this secret, she adds quietly, just for her sake, before she turns back to finish her sword.
Soon, she thinks. She will tell him soon. Once battles do not rest so close upon them, once they reach the Kleist territory and they get a moment to breath, then she will tell him the truth, that she is Mathilda, not Ruffas, and she will await for her king's judgement.
Soon.
Notes:
* I actually started writing this fic a little after I wrote the first one, but then I went to my KKM break so I never finished it until now. It got more than most of my left-over ideas do, so there.
* YES, I know that Ruffas in the novels is a girl. I DIDN'T KNOW THIS BACK THEN. No, I haven't read the novels - I wish I could, but sadly, I can't - so I have no idea how it was handled or anything. This is merely following my previous fic and idea.