Fic: Misfortune, Magnificent 7/Highlander
Title: Misfortune
Claim: Vin Tanner (Magnificent 7)
Fandoms: Magnificent 7/Highlander
Prompt: 068 - Lightening
Summary: A bit of explanation for Vin's origins and his relationship with Chris.
Set in the same universe as Reckoning ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6). It probably won’t be understood at all without reading that.
Table
539 AD
Cailtram fell to his knees beside Circinn, gripping the wounded man’s hand. Circinn’s usually clear green eyes were clouded with pain.
“Circinn,” Cailtram breathed, ignoring the sounds of battle going on around him. Either his people would watch his back or he’d be with Circinn in the Otherworld. He’d never felt right leading his people, not after the death of his brother, Gaitnait, in the middle of the war, only months before Camlann.
“Cailtram,” Circinn replied, his voice weak. He smiled faintly and reached up to touch Cailtram’s cheek, smearing blood across it. “Live. Your people need you.”
Cailtram closed his eyes, his expression pained, because he knew that it was going to have to be without Circinn, and that wasn’t even worth contemplating.
“Don’t,” Cailtram pleaded. “Don’t leave me.”
Circinn’s hand dropped back to his side, his strength sapped.
“I’ll find you again.”
“I’ll wait,” Cailtram vowed.
Cailtram watched as Circinn’s gaze became unfocussed and then finally empty. Cailtram blinked quickly and leant down to press his lips briefly to Circinn’s. He wrapped Circinn’s hand around his own sword and picked up Circinn’s. He’d avenge Circinn, even if it meant single-handedly killing every Saxon who set foot on his land. With a primal yell he launched himself into battle once more.
***
Cailtram started awake with a shuddering gasp that left his chest aching. He pressed a hand to his head when he felt a searing pain spark through it. With a groan he rolled over onto his stomach, trying to push himself to his feet. A booted foot pressed him flat again and he grunted, half in pain, half in surprise. Instead of the bloodstained battlefield he would have expected, he lay on a hard, wooden floor.
“Don’t get up on my account, Your Majesty,” a voice said mockingly.
“Remove you foot,” he demanded, pushing the pain of his headache away. He’d try to figure out how exactly he was alive, and if Circinn had possibly survived in the same way he had, later.
“Might want to be a little nicer,” the voice attached to the boot sneered. “You’re alive only by chance and you’ll remain that way only so long as I want you to.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“Now, is that any way to treat your teacher?”
“You know nothing I want to learn.”
“The Saxons call me Eilifr, but I was born Elijah,” the man continued, ignoring him. “You can call me Lord or Master, the choice is yours.”
Some notes (placed here, because putting them earlier would spoil the ficlet):
The situation might be reminiscent of Methos and Cassandra, but I figure that’s happened more than once over the years. And I love torturing my characters.
Elijah/Eilifr is the closest I could get to Eli Joe.
Claim: Vin Tanner (Magnificent 7)
Fandoms: Magnificent 7/Highlander
Prompt: 068 - Lightening
Summary: A bit of explanation for Vin's origins and his relationship with Chris.
Set in the same universe as Reckoning ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6). It probably won’t be understood at all without reading that.
Table
539 AD
Cailtram fell to his knees beside Circinn, gripping the wounded man’s hand. Circinn’s usually clear green eyes were clouded with pain.
“Circinn,” Cailtram breathed, ignoring the sounds of battle going on around him. Either his people would watch his back or he’d be with Circinn in the Otherworld. He’d never felt right leading his people, not after the death of his brother, Gaitnait, in the middle of the war, only months before Camlann.
“Cailtram,” Circinn replied, his voice weak. He smiled faintly and reached up to touch Cailtram’s cheek, smearing blood across it. “Live. Your people need you.”
Cailtram closed his eyes, his expression pained, because he knew that it was going to have to be without Circinn, and that wasn’t even worth contemplating.
“Don’t,” Cailtram pleaded. “Don’t leave me.”
Circinn’s hand dropped back to his side, his strength sapped.
“I’ll find you again.”
“I’ll wait,” Cailtram vowed.
Cailtram watched as Circinn’s gaze became unfocussed and then finally empty. Cailtram blinked quickly and leant down to press his lips briefly to Circinn’s. He wrapped Circinn’s hand around his own sword and picked up Circinn’s. He’d avenge Circinn, even if it meant single-handedly killing every Saxon who set foot on his land. With a primal yell he launched himself into battle once more.
***
Cailtram started awake with a shuddering gasp that left his chest aching. He pressed a hand to his head when he felt a searing pain spark through it. With a groan he rolled over onto his stomach, trying to push himself to his feet. A booted foot pressed him flat again and he grunted, half in pain, half in surprise. Instead of the bloodstained battlefield he would have expected, he lay on a hard, wooden floor.
“Don’t get up on my account, Your Majesty,” a voice said mockingly.
“Remove you foot,” he demanded, pushing the pain of his headache away. He’d try to figure out how exactly he was alive, and if Circinn had possibly survived in the same way he had, later.
“Might want to be a little nicer,” the voice attached to the boot sneered. “You’re alive only by chance and you’ll remain that way only so long as I want you to.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“Now, is that any way to treat your teacher?”
“You know nothing I want to learn.”
“The Saxons call me Eilifr, but I was born Elijah,” the man continued, ignoring him. “You can call me Lord or Master, the choice is yours.”
Some notes (placed here, because putting them earlier would spoil the ficlet):
The situation might be reminiscent of Methos and Cassandra, but I figure that’s happened more than once over the years. And I love torturing my characters.
Elijah/Eilifr is the closest I could get to Eli Joe.