SECRET MANLY FEELINGS
Aug. 27th, 2011 07:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shinonFandom: Fire Emblem: ehhh one of the Tellius ones?
Characters: Kieran -> Oscar, Ike
Word count: ~1800
Warnings: N/A
Notes: FE Kink Meme prompt: "Oscar/Kieran-When Oscar refuses to rejoin the Crimean knights, what can kieran do? (here's a hint-stay with the greil mercenaries by awkwardly asking Ike to join and being all cute and embarrassed when Ike asks why)"
It was intolerable. It was intolerable and insupportable and insufferable and squinty and bad. ("Squinty" because Oscar was squinty, so all of his decisions were squinty as well. Logic: yet another weapon a true Crimean Royal Knight would never leave home without.) It was contemptible, tooth-grindingly awful, unchivalrous, inconsiderate, and it could not be borne. Or at least, if anyone was going to bear it, that person would not be Kieran.
"Kieran," the dastard-blackguard-bastard said in his most infuriating voice (the one where he sounded calm and patient and reasonable, also known as his normal everyday voice), "I'm really flattered. But the answer is still no." He checked the cinch one last time and swung into the saddle. "The Royal Knights is where you belong, right?"
Kieran frowned. Where could he possibly be going with this? "Of course. I was born to it. But -"
"This is where I belong. It's the same thing. We both have what we want, we just find it in different places."
"But you could find more of it! In a better place!" Kieran grabbed a fistful of Oscar's reins. "Admit it, your life is dull here without the constant fire of manly rivalry to temper your blade. And when is the last time you got the chance to lay down your life for queen and country?"
"Last week," said Oscar, attempting politely to regain control of the reins.
Kieran held fast. "But the glory and the honor and the giant whippoorwills and the being able to sleep at night because you would no longer be a sneaky mean-spirited dog and all-around terrible rival! And the ... ladies," he blurted out; even though Ladies, as a general subject of thought, seldom occurred to him, perhaps they might persuade Oscar. Kieran well knew that Oscar lacked his dedication to training and discipline at all hours of the day, and thus might actually have time to spare to be interested in things like ladies. Possibly. He didn't actually know what people did when they weren't fighting, training to fight, or otherwise brandishing axes at things, but it was worth a try. Anything to win his hated rival back to the side of rectitude and impressiveness.
Oscar's eyebrows rose. Was that curiosity? Piqued interest? Or... "'Ladies?'" he said. Possibly that tone betokened amused skepticism, but possibly it didn't. His stupid handsome inscrutable face didn't clarify anything at all. It never did, no matter how long Kieran stared at it - and he had stared at it for, on some occasions, a good while.
"Ladies," said Kieran, confused. "Yes."
He wasn't sure what he was expecting. A "that changes everything" would have been nice, or perhaps an "only my true rival could know so well the thoughts of my inmost soul and I lament that I so egregiously neglected our passionate animosity for so long please take me back."
Instead Oscar chuckled, said "I'm sorry," and heeled his horse to a trot. After it had gone a few yards, Kieran even stopped jogging alongside and let go of the reins.
Sorry for what, rival? Sorry for what?!
Normally Kieran dropped right off to sleep after his midnight axe-swinging session. That night, he couldn't. And since he couldn't sleep, he added to his regimen a maybe-half-a-mark-after-midning axe-swinging session. That didn't seem to do the job either, though it was an excellent display of his dedication and it would probably serve as ample deterrent to any brigands who had had a thought of attacking the camp.
It wasn't until his fourth extra exercise that he suspected anything could be amiss. His arms were tired, but his mind refused to stop doing whatever it was doing. He did two more sets just to be sure, and yes, something still seemed to be wrong.
Sitting down and thinking about things had always been Kieran's measure of last resort, but now seemed an appropriate time for such desperation. He was never sure exactly what sort of pose you were supposed to strike when you were sitting down and thinking, but he gave it his best effort, collapsing into a cross-legged position and self-consciously resting his chin in his hand.
"We both have what we want," Oscar had said. Which was not true. Kieran had many of the things he wanted. Most! Nearly all! He would never want to seem ungrateful! But there was one thing, one arguably large thing, he had always been denied. And he knew that Oscar, beneath his squinty cowardly perfidy, had enough good left in him to want the very same thing. "We just find it in different places." An absurdity! Neither of them would ever find it if they were not in the same place at all times.
He had to make Oscar understand this. And if the sneaking cretin wouldn't come back to the Crimean Royal Knights, Kieran was willing to make sacrifices. He would be the better man, because he was a better man, and a true knight could always be counted upon to do what needed doing and strive to reform everyone who was doing it wrong.
There was only one way Oscar could be made to understand the depth and importance of their rivalry and the commitment it required.
"Kieran," said Commander Ike. "You wanted to talk?"
"Yes," said Kieran, only due to a yawn he failed to properly suppress it sounded more like "Yaaaahhh."
"Did you even sleep last night? Mist saw you marching around saluting at nothing three marks before dawn."
"I didn't," he said proudly. "I am ever vigilant."
"Yeah, and we all appreciate that, but you really don't -"
"And my vigilance is just one of many fine qualities I will bring to the Greil Mercenaries."
There was a long pause. Ike looked ... also inscrutable. Blast these mercenaries and their oddly immobile faces! He tried not to think too many unflattering things about them just at the moment, since he would soon be among their numbers, but there was something suspicious about people who emoted so little. Something deeply, deeply suspicious.
Kieran bit his lip. "Do you want me to start listing the others? I'm fearless, honorable, deadly with or without a weapon -"
Ike held up a hand. "Wait, wait -"
Kieran did not wait. "I have a fantastic singing voice, my good reputation will something something something" (at this point he forgot his speech) "and I can juggle."
Silence.
"Do you have a spare axe? I'll demonstrate. Here," he said, unstrapping his axe and preparing to lob it into the air.
"Kieran. Wait. What's brought this on?"
"W-whatever do you mean?"
"You love being a royal knight. It's all you ever talk about. Why the sudden change of heart?"
He hadn't expected this. He'd thought Ike would be glad to have him. Anyone else would be! "I, um. 'Sudden?' 'Change?' Really? 'Heart?' Don't you think you're being silly? This has been a long time coming! I've always thought that - that -"
"So do you suddenly admire me more than you do Geoffrey? You and I have barely even talked."
"No! Never! General Geoffrey is the greatest man and how dare you insinuate that I -"
"All right, then back to my first question."
"Which one was that?"
"Why you're suddenly so keen on 'cavorting with outlaws.'"
Kieran's lips were quivering and his face felt hotter than faces were supposed to feel. "Well, you know, the... making a difference on a smaller scale!" (Oscar had used that argument on him once. Kieran still did not understand the appeal of anything that happened on a small scale, but for the sake of this exercise he supposed he could pretend.) "I think this is the best thing I could do to serve Crimea right now! Will you stand in the way of a Crimean Royal Knight bent on doing his duty by his comrades and erstwhile comrades and miscellaneous other citizens? Also, ladies," he added as an afterthought.
"This isn't about Oscar, is it?"
"No! N-never! Not even the littlest, tiniest bit! I spit upon his -"
"You should tell him how you feel."
"I have, many times. If he does not understand now, I despair that I will ever make him understand how seriously a dedicated lifelong rivalry must be taken! He has" - and this Kieran had never meant to say to Oscar's employer, but sometimes he was not entirely in control of the things he said - "no honor."
Ike got that look people often seemed to get, like it took all the energy they had to keep their eyes from rolling. Apparently no one else was observant enough to catch it; every time Kieran asked someone about that look, they said they had no idea. And yet he saw it about three times in every conversation he'd ever had with anyone! (Except Oscar. It was hard to tell when Oscar was making that face.) "I mean you should tell him how you really feel."
"But I have!" He really had. He concealed nothing, partly out of decency and partly because he was just no good at it. "Unless you're implying I have some kind of secret feelings. That's for people of your ilk. A royal knight believes manly feelings are to be aired freely and without shame! And that is what I am doing! I aim to join your mercenary troop because - because -" He only realized he was shouting once he noticed he'd run out of words to shout.
"Because?"
"Because!" he shouted.
"Because," he said.
Finally, he mumbled, looking at the ground, "Because... secret manly feelings."
"I see."
"I have to keep an eye on him," said Kieran, starting to recover his momentum. "Lest his perfidiousness corrupt others who would have been Crimean Royal Knights!"
"Sure," said Ike. "I don't think he's doing much corrupting out here, but if that's what you want, knock yourself out."
"R-really?"
"You're a good fighter and we'd be glad to have you. Just go talk to Oscar. If you still want to join after you're done, and he's all right with it, you're welcome to join us."
"Thanks," Kieran said faintly as Ike clapped him once on the shoulder and strode off to attend some other issue.
Talk to Oscar about it.
Talk to Oscar about this, so it would be like he won, like admitting defeat, like admitting there could possibly be any merit in any life other than that of a royal knight.
Impossible.
Kieran sighed. But he was no worse off than he'd been when he began. He could still make Oscar see the light someday. There would be sharing of manly feelings and contests of strength and theirs would be the most epic and timeless of rivalries, the kind people sang about for years and years and years while other people wondered if the two rivals' wives got bored because the rivals never had time for anything but their passionate competition.
Someday it would happen. And that would be the day when Kieran won.
Characters: Kieran -> Oscar, Ike
Word count: ~1800
Warnings: N/A
Notes: FE Kink Meme prompt: "Oscar/Kieran-When Oscar refuses to rejoin the Crimean knights, what can kieran do? (here's a hint-stay with the greil mercenaries by awkwardly asking Ike to join and being all cute and embarrassed when Ike asks why)"
It was intolerable. It was intolerable and insupportable and insufferable and squinty and bad. ("Squinty" because Oscar was squinty, so all of his decisions were squinty as well. Logic: yet another weapon a true Crimean Royal Knight would never leave home without.) It was contemptible, tooth-grindingly awful, unchivalrous, inconsiderate, and it could not be borne. Or at least, if anyone was going to bear it, that person would not be Kieran.
"Kieran," the dastard-blackguard-bastard said in his most infuriating voice (the one where he sounded calm and patient and reasonable, also known as his normal everyday voice), "I'm really flattered. But the answer is still no." He checked the cinch one last time and swung into the saddle. "The Royal Knights is where you belong, right?"
Kieran frowned. Where could he possibly be going with this? "Of course. I was born to it. But -"
"This is where I belong. It's the same thing. We both have what we want, we just find it in different places."
"But you could find more of it! In a better place!" Kieran grabbed a fistful of Oscar's reins. "Admit it, your life is dull here without the constant fire of manly rivalry to temper your blade. And when is the last time you got the chance to lay down your life for queen and country?"
"Last week," said Oscar, attempting politely to regain control of the reins.
Kieran held fast. "But the glory and the honor and the giant whippoorwills and the being able to sleep at night because you would no longer be a sneaky mean-spirited dog and all-around terrible rival! And the ... ladies," he blurted out; even though Ladies, as a general subject of thought, seldom occurred to him, perhaps they might persuade Oscar. Kieran well knew that Oscar lacked his dedication to training and discipline at all hours of the day, and thus might actually have time to spare to be interested in things like ladies. Possibly. He didn't actually know what people did when they weren't fighting, training to fight, or otherwise brandishing axes at things, but it was worth a try. Anything to win his hated rival back to the side of rectitude and impressiveness.
Oscar's eyebrows rose. Was that curiosity? Piqued interest? Or... "'Ladies?'" he said. Possibly that tone betokened amused skepticism, but possibly it didn't. His stupid handsome inscrutable face didn't clarify anything at all. It never did, no matter how long Kieran stared at it - and he had stared at it for, on some occasions, a good while.
"Ladies," said Kieran, confused. "Yes."
He wasn't sure what he was expecting. A "that changes everything" would have been nice, or perhaps an "only my true rival could know so well the thoughts of my inmost soul and I lament that I so egregiously neglected our passionate animosity for so long please take me back."
Instead Oscar chuckled, said "I'm sorry," and heeled his horse to a trot. After it had gone a few yards, Kieran even stopped jogging alongside and let go of the reins.
Sorry for what, rival? Sorry for what?!
Normally Kieran dropped right off to sleep after his midnight axe-swinging session. That night, he couldn't. And since he couldn't sleep, he added to his regimen a maybe-half-a-mark-after-midning axe-swinging session. That didn't seem to do the job either, though it was an excellent display of his dedication and it would probably serve as ample deterrent to any brigands who had had a thought of attacking the camp.
It wasn't until his fourth extra exercise that he suspected anything could be amiss. His arms were tired, but his mind refused to stop doing whatever it was doing. He did two more sets just to be sure, and yes, something still seemed to be wrong.
Sitting down and thinking about things had always been Kieran's measure of last resort, but now seemed an appropriate time for such desperation. He was never sure exactly what sort of pose you were supposed to strike when you were sitting down and thinking, but he gave it his best effort, collapsing into a cross-legged position and self-consciously resting his chin in his hand.
"We both have what we want," Oscar had said. Which was not true. Kieran had many of the things he wanted. Most! Nearly all! He would never want to seem ungrateful! But there was one thing, one arguably large thing, he had always been denied. And he knew that Oscar, beneath his squinty cowardly perfidy, had enough good left in him to want the very same thing. "We just find it in different places." An absurdity! Neither of them would ever find it if they were not in the same place at all times.
He had to make Oscar understand this. And if the sneaking cretin wouldn't come back to the Crimean Royal Knights, Kieran was willing to make sacrifices. He would be the better man, because he was a better man, and a true knight could always be counted upon to do what needed doing and strive to reform everyone who was doing it wrong.
There was only one way Oscar could be made to understand the depth and importance of their rivalry and the commitment it required.
"Kieran," said Commander Ike. "You wanted to talk?"
"Yes," said Kieran, only due to a yawn he failed to properly suppress it sounded more like "Yaaaahhh."
"Did you even sleep last night? Mist saw you marching around saluting at nothing three marks before dawn."
"I didn't," he said proudly. "I am ever vigilant."
"Yeah, and we all appreciate that, but you really don't -"
"And my vigilance is just one of many fine qualities I will bring to the Greil Mercenaries."
There was a long pause. Ike looked ... also inscrutable. Blast these mercenaries and their oddly immobile faces! He tried not to think too many unflattering things about them just at the moment, since he would soon be among their numbers, but there was something suspicious about people who emoted so little. Something deeply, deeply suspicious.
Kieran bit his lip. "Do you want me to start listing the others? I'm fearless, honorable, deadly with or without a weapon -"
Ike held up a hand. "Wait, wait -"
Kieran did not wait. "I have a fantastic singing voice, my good reputation will something something something" (at this point he forgot his speech) "and I can juggle."
Silence.
"Do you have a spare axe? I'll demonstrate. Here," he said, unstrapping his axe and preparing to lob it into the air.
"Kieran. Wait. What's brought this on?"
"W-whatever do you mean?"
"You love being a royal knight. It's all you ever talk about. Why the sudden change of heart?"
He hadn't expected this. He'd thought Ike would be glad to have him. Anyone else would be! "I, um. 'Sudden?' 'Change?' Really? 'Heart?' Don't you think you're being silly? This has been a long time coming! I've always thought that - that -"
"So do you suddenly admire me more than you do Geoffrey? You and I have barely even talked."
"No! Never! General Geoffrey is the greatest man and how dare you insinuate that I -"
"All right, then back to my first question."
"Which one was that?"
"Why you're suddenly so keen on 'cavorting with outlaws.'"
Kieran's lips were quivering and his face felt hotter than faces were supposed to feel. "Well, you know, the... making a difference on a smaller scale!" (Oscar had used that argument on him once. Kieran still did not understand the appeal of anything that happened on a small scale, but for the sake of this exercise he supposed he could pretend.) "I think this is the best thing I could do to serve Crimea right now! Will you stand in the way of a Crimean Royal Knight bent on doing his duty by his comrades and erstwhile comrades and miscellaneous other citizens? Also, ladies," he added as an afterthought.
"This isn't about Oscar, is it?"
"No! N-never! Not even the littlest, tiniest bit! I spit upon his -"
"You should tell him how you feel."
"I have, many times. If he does not understand now, I despair that I will ever make him understand how seriously a dedicated lifelong rivalry must be taken! He has" - and this Kieran had never meant to say to Oscar's employer, but sometimes he was not entirely in control of the things he said - "no honor."
Ike got that look people often seemed to get, like it took all the energy they had to keep their eyes from rolling. Apparently no one else was observant enough to catch it; every time Kieran asked someone about that look, they said they had no idea. And yet he saw it about three times in every conversation he'd ever had with anyone! (Except Oscar. It was hard to tell when Oscar was making that face.) "I mean you should tell him how you really feel."
"But I have!" He really had. He concealed nothing, partly out of decency and partly because he was just no good at it. "Unless you're implying I have some kind of secret feelings. That's for people of your ilk. A royal knight believes manly feelings are to be aired freely and without shame! And that is what I am doing! I aim to join your mercenary troop because - because -" He only realized he was shouting once he noticed he'd run out of words to shout.
"Because?"
"Because!" he shouted.
"Because," he said.
Finally, he mumbled, looking at the ground, "Because... secret manly feelings."
"I see."
"I have to keep an eye on him," said Kieran, starting to recover his momentum. "Lest his perfidiousness corrupt others who would have been Crimean Royal Knights!"
"Sure," said Ike. "I don't think he's doing much corrupting out here, but if that's what you want, knock yourself out."
"R-really?"
"You're a good fighter and we'd be glad to have you. Just go talk to Oscar. If you still want to join after you're done, and he's all right with it, you're welcome to join us."
"Thanks," Kieran said faintly as Ike clapped him once on the shoulder and strode off to attend some other issue.
Talk to Oscar about it.
Talk to Oscar about this, so it would be like he won, like admitting defeat, like admitting there could possibly be any merit in any life other than that of a royal knight.
Impossible.
Kieran sighed. But he was no worse off than he'd been when he began. He could still make Oscar see the light someday. There would be sharing of manly feelings and contests of strength and theirs would be the most epic and timeless of rivalries, the kind people sang about for years and years and years while other people wondered if the two rivals' wives got bored because the rivals never had time for anything but their passionate competition.
Someday it would happen. And that would be the day when Kieran won.
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Date: 2011-09-05 03:48 pm (UTC)(linked here via Lily; GREETINGS)
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Date: 2011-09-06 01:51 am (UTC)(GREETINGS TO YOU TOO.)