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Dec. 24th, 2011 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rapacityinblueTitle: With the Honey and the Bees and Such
Fandom: Swordspoint
Spoilers: Privilege of the Sword and Swordspoint
Rating: G
Summary: Richard is seasick. Alec is almost sympathetic.
Pairing: Alec/Richard
Word Count:
Warnings: None
Notes: Written as Christmas Fic for Chloe. Merry Christmas!
"I told you you wouldn't like barges."
Alec, Richard thought, might be incapable of actual human thoughtfulness. It was a theory he'd toyed with before, and likely would again, given the opportunity. At the moment, he did not have the opportunity.
At the moment he was not capable of much at all. He'd felt like this before -- maybe only once, as a boy, when he'd had the red fever. They'd still lived in the country, then, and there was only one physician for the whole district. His mother had cried for days. It was the only time he could remember that she'd cried, and all his memories of that month were hazy and hot, clouded by the fever, set to the sounds of her sobbing.
At least the fever hadn't made him heave. Their first day had been fine, what there was of it, they sailed with the evening tide. The crisp, open air was refreshing (even his brief time in the city sludge had made his lungs feel thick) and he and Alec had years of lost time to make up for.
The next morning he'd stumbled from their cabin searching for he didn't know what, really, but the nearest sailor had only given his shoulder a rough shove. He tumbled with the rolling of the sea and hit the railing just in time. He didn't like people touching him, especially people he didn't know, but it was an issue for a later date.
That first day, Alec (who took to 'sea legs' like he was part crab, which, well, Richard knew already) found his predicament hilarious. The second day, nothing had changed. By the fourth eve he was beginning to bore, and by the seventh he had reverted to his normal disposition. His frequent complaints were soothing to the swordsman.
Alec entered suddenly, sitting beside him. Richard had heard him enter, of course, and Alec knew it, so there didn't seem to be much point in announcing it. "It's Yule," the Duke said. Of course, he wasn't the Duke anymore, not for nearly seventeen. The disposed Duke? no, that wasn't right, either, he'd given up his seat willingly. He wasn't the late Duke either, not for lack of trying.
"Can you be an Ex-Duke?"
"I can make you an Ex-Swordsman," Alec said dryly. "I've gotten practice now. Not that you aren't one already; pathetic."
Richard could hear every movement his friend made, but somehow the rustle of fine silks didn't prepare him for the coolness of a damp rag on his cheeks. It felt good, better than he was willing to admit, just the right chill against his overheated skin. Somehow, it made it easier to breathe.
Richard was used to silence in his years of isolation, and running an estate, even nominally, had finally taught Alec to keep his own counsel, and so they sat without speaking for several minutes. That was fine for Richard, as speech made his head spin in a way that wasn't at all pleasant.
Finally, Alec said, "Did you post a letter before we left port?"
Richard wouldn't sigh outwardly but he was tempted. He answered simply, "Yes."
"And the messenger was trustworthy?" Alec could't help pushing, it was just his nature, but illness made Richard short.
"Katherine is quite sensible and a born leader," Everything Alec had proven, time and again, he was not. "She'll be fine. You have to let her go."
"Something you'd know all about, I suppose."
Richard had no response, and even light conversation made him reach for the chamber pot, so he said nothing. In time, they returned to their previous silence. Alec's long, cool fingers replaced the rag on his forehead.
Alec was, in many ways, like a young child. Defiant at first, but given careful guidance and just the right length leash, able to come to the right decision. Of course, he was so arbitrary that just as often he chose not to, simply in the name of being difficult, but finally he said, "I shouldn't have taken her from you so abruptly."
It was as much of an apology as he was ever likely to get, so Richard knew that, and he appreciated it. It passed unspoken between them, another moment of peace, before --"We read about the island, you know, that winter." His voice was hoarse from disuse and the punishment his throat had taken this past week. "There's thyme."
"And bees, and honey, and so on, yes, yes, I know. Did that book of yours also mention a total lack of interesting people or any kind of civilization?"
Mildly, Richard said, "I believe there are advanced studies on philosophy and medicine."
Alec snorted, his opinion of their so-called philosophy, then said, "I suppose if I couldn't have you, I didn't want her to, either."
More touched than Alec would ever let him say, Richard sat. The rolling motion, combined with the rolling of the ship, was still distressing, but not as much as it had been before. "I think I'm feeling well enough for a walk on the deck."
Alec's weight took him back to the mattress and he said, very contrarily, "Well, I want a nap. And shut up, will you, if I wanted a lecture I'd go back to the university."
Richard smiled into the weight on his arm. He hadn't really felt like getting up anyway. "So, you said it's yule?"
Fandom: Swordspoint
Spoilers: Privilege of the Sword and Swordspoint
Rating: G
Summary: Richard is seasick. Alec is almost sympathetic.
Pairing: Alec/Richard
Word Count:
Warnings: None
Notes: Written as Christmas Fic for Chloe. Merry Christmas!
"I told you you wouldn't like barges."
Alec, Richard thought, might be incapable of actual human thoughtfulness. It was a theory he'd toyed with before, and likely would again, given the opportunity. At the moment, he did not have the opportunity.
At the moment he was not capable of much at all. He'd felt like this before -- maybe only once, as a boy, when he'd had the red fever. They'd still lived in the country, then, and there was only one physician for the whole district. His mother had cried for days. It was the only time he could remember that she'd cried, and all his memories of that month were hazy and hot, clouded by the fever, set to the sounds of her sobbing.
At least the fever hadn't made him heave. Their first day had been fine, what there was of it, they sailed with the evening tide. The crisp, open air was refreshing (even his brief time in the city sludge had made his lungs feel thick) and he and Alec had years of lost time to make up for.
The next morning he'd stumbled from their cabin searching for he didn't know what, really, but the nearest sailor had only given his shoulder a rough shove. He tumbled with the rolling of the sea and hit the railing just in time. He didn't like people touching him, especially people he didn't know, but it was an issue for a later date.
That first day, Alec (who took to 'sea legs' like he was part crab, which, well, Richard knew already) found his predicament hilarious. The second day, nothing had changed. By the fourth eve he was beginning to bore, and by the seventh he had reverted to his normal disposition. His frequent complaints were soothing to the swordsman.
Alec entered suddenly, sitting beside him. Richard had heard him enter, of course, and Alec knew it, so there didn't seem to be much point in announcing it. "It's Yule," the Duke said. Of course, he wasn't the Duke anymore, not for nearly seventeen. The disposed Duke? no, that wasn't right, either, he'd given up his seat willingly. He wasn't the late Duke either, not for lack of trying.
"Can you be an Ex-Duke?"
"I can make you an Ex-Swordsman," Alec said dryly. "I've gotten practice now. Not that you aren't one already; pathetic."
Richard could hear every movement his friend made, but somehow the rustle of fine silks didn't prepare him for the coolness of a damp rag on his cheeks. It felt good, better than he was willing to admit, just the right chill against his overheated skin. Somehow, it made it easier to breathe.
Richard was used to silence in his years of isolation, and running an estate, even nominally, had finally taught Alec to keep his own counsel, and so they sat without speaking for several minutes. That was fine for Richard, as speech made his head spin in a way that wasn't at all pleasant.
Finally, Alec said, "Did you post a letter before we left port?"
Richard wouldn't sigh outwardly but he was tempted. He answered simply, "Yes."
"And the messenger was trustworthy?" Alec could't help pushing, it was just his nature, but illness made Richard short.
"Katherine is quite sensible and a born leader," Everything Alec had proven, time and again, he was not. "She'll be fine. You have to let her go."
"Something you'd know all about, I suppose."
Richard had no response, and even light conversation made him reach for the chamber pot, so he said nothing. In time, they returned to their previous silence. Alec's long, cool fingers replaced the rag on his forehead.
Alec was, in many ways, like a young child. Defiant at first, but given careful guidance and just the right length leash, able to come to the right decision. Of course, he was so arbitrary that just as often he chose not to, simply in the name of being difficult, but finally he said, "I shouldn't have taken her from you so abruptly."
It was as much of an apology as he was ever likely to get, so Richard knew that, and he appreciated it. It passed unspoken between them, another moment of peace, before --"We read about the island, you know, that winter." His voice was hoarse from disuse and the punishment his throat had taken this past week. "There's thyme."
"And bees, and honey, and so on, yes, yes, I know. Did that book of yours also mention a total lack of interesting people or any kind of civilization?"
Mildly, Richard said, "I believe there are advanced studies on philosophy and medicine."
Alec snorted, his opinion of their so-called philosophy, then said, "I suppose if I couldn't have you, I didn't want her to, either."
More touched than Alec would ever let him say, Richard sat. The rolling motion, combined with the rolling of the ship, was still distressing, but not as much as it had been before. "I think I'm feeling well enough for a walk on the deck."
Alec's weight took him back to the mattress and he said, very contrarily, "Well, I want a nap. And shut up, will you, if I wanted a lecture I'd go back to the university."
Richard smiled into the weight on his arm. He hadn't really felt like getting up anyway. "So, you said it's yule?"
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-24 11:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-25 01:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-25 04:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-25 04:07 am (UTC)Thank you for reading!