[005] "Spirited Child"
Title: Spirited Child
Game: Fire Emblem 8, AU
Word Count: 1443
Pairings / Characters: Seth, Eirika, cameos by the ensemble
Warnings: Historically inaccurate like whoa. And shallow interpretation of Celtic/Irish mythology.
Author’s Note: Inspiration goes to Malinda Lo’s Ash and Spirited Away. Longer author's note on my LJ entry.
- - -
As much as Carcino was loath to admit it, it was quite apparent that Carcino was a territory very much run by its myths and superstitions. While its metropolis buzzed with science and balances and numbers, its countryside still believed in a spry, beautiful people who stole children.
Eirika, young at the time, was on her way to an apprenticeship at the nearby province. Her father wanted her to get a hand on how to handle other estates – and on numbers and driving hard bargains – since her brother was always preoccupied with sailing off into unknown battles – to make a difference, he would say – never mind he didn’t even know how to rightly use his lance. It seemed the logical choice then, that Eirika would be the intellect and Ephraim the strong arm when Ephraim took over their territory.
As Eirika passed through the countryside, her guard was murmuring to themselves; the unease was palatable. She tried to shift in her saddle, but each time, she almost lost her seat. She’d hate to be the cause of staying an extra night on this road that left the men so hasty to leave. Moulder, by virtue of his age being the oldest of the group, seemed most likely to know why.
She tugged his coarse linen sleeve and asked.
He scratched his moustache and then replied, “The fairie people are believed to live here, and they are known to steal men and women for their pleasure and leisure.” She didn’t understand what was so scary about that, but she knew that when Moulder continually pet his upper lip, he was too deep in thought to be further bothered.
Amelia, a squire, piped in, “We have every right to be frightened! Seth disappeared here on his way to Carcino for his apprenticeship! And when Kyle passed through here last, he asked, and the villagers said he’d been spirited by the fairie! I keep having nightmares where he drips blood as red as his hair.” She shook her head and shuddered. She received a sharp blow from someone’s elbow, shaking her from her imaginings.
“Don’t tell her the rest; she’s too young to know what they do to those they capture.” Although the new voice was a low murmur not meant for her ears, Eirika still listened. She remembered those stories though; they always had bad endings. Amelia trotted ahead quickly.
Regardless of these fears though, they camped for the night on the dusty road. After they’d pitched their tents and made fires and set a watch, Eirika heard music. There were delicate bells, sharp tambourine rapping, and some lovely lute plucking. She slipped out from between Vanessa and Natasha, Moulder’s apprentice. The stars were clear and the night endless; the air was cold as she gulped in breaths. She followed the music, over the stumps, through puddles, and beneath branches to find an empty ring surrounded by white flowers.
There were people there, dancing just as she thought there’d be; who couldn’t dance with such music? The tables and setting were higher than she was, and there were drinks spilling over the edges, dripping off the blades of grass, or onto smooth pebbles. She made her way below the tables, dodging the feet and occasional paw and hoof. She laughed, and was then grabbed from the collar of her dress.
“What have we here?” The voice sounded like thunder, and when she craned her neck to see, she couldn’t tell if the person was a man or woman; all strong lines but too beautiful with their hair like sparkling water in summer. She saw other people at the table licking their lips and picking up forks while looking at her. She began to struggle and kick and even to bite, but her kicks amounted to nothing against the hard flesh and her bites only left her jaw sore from clicking her teeth.
Another voice. “Should we make her dance?”
“Or should we keep her?”
A much less intimidating voice spoke up; with all the rumbling voices, this one sounded like the wind through the grass. “Milady, I think your husband has found a new nymph to play with.”
The large hand holding her began to shake. As her captor began to speak, she felt the vibrations up her spine. “That lying cur, I told him that I would cut off his head if he did that again – ”
Eirika was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, banging her knee against the chair, as the woman galloped off. Dazed by the fall, she tried to collect herself, but someone the same height as her, or at least someone with hands her size, had already grabbed her arm and begun to drag her off. They passed tables where people their size sat, and past couples making loud moans against trees and earth.
At last, he turned and asked, “What are you doing here?” His voice was filled with the same kind of concern she’d learned to expect from Ephraim to Tana. Even among the loud shouts and groans, his voice still sounded of the wind in the grass.
“I heard the music,” she said.
The boy she faced was taller than her – but not as tall as the table-goers – whose voice cracked over every other word. He was dressed finely though, in velvet and pearls; his sword however, looked unremarkable and was ill fit.
He looked expectantly at her, and then realized she had no more to say. He tried to persuade her – to do what, she didn’t know, “Lady Eirika, you shouldn’t be here.” His voice was low and urgent.
“But aren’t parties for everyone? Except for the bubby drinks.”
His eyes widened, and he grabbed her shoulders tightly. “Did you drink or eat anything?”
She shook her head adamantly, her untied hair blocking him from sight.
“We have to go,” he said. “Get on.”
She would have asked, “On what?” but she saw there were now reigns in the boy’s hand, leading up to a horse pale as moonlight. He mounted quickly and then extended his hand. She grabbed on, and he swung her so she was in front of him. He wrapped one arm around her stomach and looped the reigns around his other. She felt his thighs clench, and the horse sprinted off into the night.
The forest rushed by her in a blur; the wind moved so quickly it was hard to breathe. It was a strange feeling, the world still and whirring simultaneously, time stretching out like a cat on the windowsill. The moment stopped eventually, and she was slid gently off the saddle.
“Go,” he said, looking forward to where her camp was and voices calling her name were.
She knew that in books ladies always gave knights something; her ribbon for her hair was by her bedside, and she had nothing to offer but her nightgown. Wait. She rolled the bracelet off her left hand; her father had given it to her and her brother for their last birthday; it bore the family crest.
Still winded by the ride, she held it out to him, pushing it toward him with both hands. He eyed it, not certain what it was and what to do with it, but he took it anyway, and hid it beneath his shirt; a hidden pocket she thought!
“Thank you.” She hadn’t thought she’d needed saving, but she knew it was only right to thank him.
He acknowledged her with another, “Go.”
This time she did.
She raced back to the voices calling her name, rocks sharp against her feet, and vines tripping her at the knees. She bumped into General Garcia’s thighs, and he swept her up in his big arms. “Where have you been?”
“I was in the forest! There was music, and a boy with red, and he told me to leave; he knew my name too! And then we rode back here and he’s right - ” She swung her head around, but he was nowhere to be seen.
She was struck with an idea. “Hey, Garcia, do you think it’s the boy Amelia was talking about? His hair was as red as blood, and he didn’t belong and – ” Garcia shushed her quickly and herded her to sleep. The voices dimmed down, and she was carried to bed, tucked safely between Vanessa and Natasha, both of whom had been given stern reprimands.
Late into the night though, she thought of the boy, and when they left in the morning, she spared one last look at the forest, still dark, and whispered into the grass, “I’ll come back for you, I promise.”
Game: Fire Emblem 8, AU
Word Count: 1443
Pairings / Characters: Seth, Eirika, cameos by the ensemble
Warnings: Historically inaccurate like whoa. And shallow interpretation of Celtic/Irish mythology.
Author’s Note: Inspiration goes to Malinda Lo’s Ash and Spirited Away. Longer author's note on my LJ entry.
- - -
Eirika, young at the time, was on her way to an apprenticeship at the nearby province. Her father wanted her to get a hand on how to handle other estates – and on numbers and driving hard bargains – since her brother was always preoccupied with sailing off into unknown battles – to make a difference, he would say – never mind he didn’t even know how to rightly use his lance. It seemed the logical choice then, that Eirika would be the intellect and Ephraim the strong arm when Ephraim took over their territory.
As Eirika passed through the countryside, her guard was murmuring to themselves; the unease was palatable. She tried to shift in her saddle, but each time, she almost lost her seat. She’d hate to be the cause of staying an extra night on this road that left the men so hasty to leave. Moulder, by virtue of his age being the oldest of the group, seemed most likely to know why.
She tugged his coarse linen sleeve and asked.
He scratched his moustache and then replied, “The fairie people are believed to live here, and they are known to steal men and women for their pleasure and leisure.” She didn’t understand what was so scary about that, but she knew that when Moulder continually pet his upper lip, he was too deep in thought to be further bothered.
Amelia, a squire, piped in, “We have every right to be frightened! Seth disappeared here on his way to Carcino for his apprenticeship! And when Kyle passed through here last, he asked, and the villagers said he’d been spirited by the fairie! I keep having nightmares where he drips blood as red as his hair.” She shook her head and shuddered. She received a sharp blow from someone’s elbow, shaking her from her imaginings.
“Don’t tell her the rest; she’s too young to know what they do to those they capture.” Although the new voice was a low murmur not meant for her ears, Eirika still listened. She remembered those stories though; they always had bad endings. Amelia trotted ahead quickly.
Regardless of these fears though, they camped for the night on the dusty road. After they’d pitched their tents and made fires and set a watch, Eirika heard music. There were delicate bells, sharp tambourine rapping, and some lovely lute plucking. She slipped out from between Vanessa and Natasha, Moulder’s apprentice. The stars were clear and the night endless; the air was cold as she gulped in breaths. She followed the music, over the stumps, through puddles, and beneath branches to find an empty ring surrounded by white flowers.
There were people there, dancing just as she thought there’d be; who couldn’t dance with such music? The tables and setting were higher than she was, and there were drinks spilling over the edges, dripping off the blades of grass, or onto smooth pebbles. She made her way below the tables, dodging the feet and occasional paw and hoof. She laughed, and was then grabbed from the collar of her dress.
“What have we here?” The voice sounded like thunder, and when she craned her neck to see, she couldn’t tell if the person was a man or woman; all strong lines but too beautiful with their hair like sparkling water in summer. She saw other people at the table licking their lips and picking up forks while looking at her. She began to struggle and kick and even to bite, but her kicks amounted to nothing against the hard flesh and her bites only left her jaw sore from clicking her teeth.
Another voice. “Should we make her dance?”
“Or should we keep her?”
A much less intimidating voice spoke up; with all the rumbling voices, this one sounded like the wind through the grass. “Milady, I think your husband has found a new nymph to play with.”
The large hand holding her began to shake. As her captor began to speak, she felt the vibrations up her spine. “That lying cur, I told him that I would cut off his head if he did that again – ”
Eirika was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, banging her knee against the chair, as the woman galloped off. Dazed by the fall, she tried to collect herself, but someone the same height as her, or at least someone with hands her size, had already grabbed her arm and begun to drag her off. They passed tables where people their size sat, and past couples making loud moans against trees and earth.
At last, he turned and asked, “What are you doing here?” His voice was filled with the same kind of concern she’d learned to expect from Ephraim to Tana. Even among the loud shouts and groans, his voice still sounded of the wind in the grass.
“I heard the music,” she said.
The boy she faced was taller than her – but not as tall as the table-goers – whose voice cracked over every other word. He was dressed finely though, in velvet and pearls; his sword however, looked unremarkable and was ill fit.
He looked expectantly at her, and then realized she had no more to say. He tried to persuade her – to do what, she didn’t know, “Lady Eirika, you shouldn’t be here.” His voice was low and urgent.
“But aren’t parties for everyone? Except for the bubby drinks.”
His eyes widened, and he grabbed her shoulders tightly. “Did you drink or eat anything?”
She shook her head adamantly, her untied hair blocking him from sight.
“We have to go,” he said. “Get on.”
She would have asked, “On what?” but she saw there were now reigns in the boy’s hand, leading up to a horse pale as moonlight. He mounted quickly and then extended his hand. She grabbed on, and he swung her so she was in front of him. He wrapped one arm around her stomach and looped the reigns around his other. She felt his thighs clench, and the horse sprinted off into the night.
The forest rushed by her in a blur; the wind moved so quickly it was hard to breathe. It was a strange feeling, the world still and whirring simultaneously, time stretching out like a cat on the windowsill. The moment stopped eventually, and she was slid gently off the saddle.
“Go,” he said, looking forward to where her camp was and voices calling her name were.
She knew that in books ladies always gave knights something; her ribbon for her hair was by her bedside, and she had nothing to offer but her nightgown. Wait. She rolled the bracelet off her left hand; her father had given it to her and her brother for their last birthday; it bore the family crest.
Still winded by the ride, she held it out to him, pushing it toward him with both hands. He eyed it, not certain what it was and what to do with it, but he took it anyway, and hid it beneath his shirt; a hidden pocket she thought!
“Thank you.” She hadn’t thought she’d needed saving, but she knew it was only right to thank him.
He acknowledged her with another, “Go.”
This time she did.
She raced back to the voices calling her name, rocks sharp against her feet, and vines tripping her at the knees. She bumped into General Garcia’s thighs, and he swept her up in his big arms. “Where have you been?”
“I was in the forest! There was music, and a boy with red, and he told me to leave; he knew my name too! And then we rode back here and he’s right - ” She swung her head around, but he was nowhere to be seen.
She was struck with an idea. “Hey, Garcia, do you think it’s the boy Amelia was talking about? His hair was as red as blood, and he didn’t belong and – ” Garcia shushed her quickly and herded her to sleep. The voices dimmed down, and she was carried to bed, tucked safely between Vanessa and Natasha, both of whom had been given stern reprimands.
Late into the night though, she thought of the boy, and when they left in the morning, she spared one last look at the forest, still dark, and whispered into the grass, “I’ll come back for you, I promise.”