Begin Anew (Tales of the Abyss)
Mar. 22nd, 2010 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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no_true_pairTitle: Begin Anew
Author: Cephy
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Pairing/characters: Luke, Guy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU. Assumes knowledge of Guy's backstory.
Prompt: Luke convinces the outsider Guy that it's not only the locals who want Guy to stay.
Seven months and three days after leaving Malkuth, Guy Cecil finally decided he'd gone far enough. He didn't taste ash in his mouth anymore when he ate, mostly, and it had been a few weeks' travel since he'd last heard the call of gulls overhead, so he walked through the gates of the next town intending to settle down for a while.
The town in question felt too small to be called a city, but was definitely too large for a village-- it consisted of a broad wheel of streets lined with houses and shops surrounding the lord’s manor at the centre. It wasn’t quite big enough to get lost in but was enough to warrant a troop of guards on a wall around the outside of it. Big enough that people didn't quite all know each other the way they had in Hod, though it was close.
The people looked at him sidelong as he worked his way down the main street, but he’d expected that. Blond hair wasn’t common outside of Malkuth, after all, and Kimlasca and Malkuth had bad blood between them stretching back centuries. He briefly entertained himself, that first night in his rented room, by thoughts of getting dragged from his bed by a torch-bearing mob and kicked out beyond the town gates. But he woke up the next morning still in his bed, unassaulted, and while the server at the inn's dining room was very quiet around him she still dished up a great breakfast.
He took a tiny attic room at a boarding house, and spent nearly the last of his coin on a new pair of boots and a spare blanket-- his old boots were nearly worn out, and even early fall in Kimlasca was colder than he was used to. And then he started to set himself up as a sword for hire, which mostly involved a lot of sitting in the tavern, listening to the talk and letting people get used to his presence. He dropped words in to a few ears, planting the idea, and settled in for what he expected to be a wait.
It was pure luck that he picked up a job that first day, from one of the townsfolk who just wanted help moving the soil for his garden. It wasn’t difficult work, and it certainly wasn't glamorous, but it left Guy with a satisfying ache in his muscles at the end of the day, a hot meal on the table courtesy of his patron, and the patron himself to talk to while he ate it. Old Pere smiled at him when he left, patting his shoulder in a grandfatherly fashion, and maybe he'd been wandering on his own too long, after all, but Guy found himself warmed by gesture.
And perhaps Pere had a word with his neighbours that night, because the very next morning one of the townsfolk approached Guy about some monster problems. That seemed to set the tone of things from then on: Guy ran errands and cleared out the local monsters in exchange for his board, doing the things that the town guard couldn't or wouldn't, like going along with the small groups that gathered herbs or berries from the woods, or standing watch with a farmer overnight while the late foals were born. Despite his early misgivings, the Kimlascans warmed to him quite quickly, and Guy was a little surprised at how much he came to like talking to them, helping them out in whatever way he could. And even if they mostly paid him in trade instead of coin, well, that was all right too, because he was terrible at mending his own clothes.
Guy was sitting in the dining room of what had become his usual inn, eating his dinner, when the door opened to admit someone new. A fighter, from the way he held himself and the sword at the small of his back, with a dark scarf tied rather carelessly over a head of blazing red hair. A few of the patrons looked to the door when he entered only to look quickly look away again-- curious behaviour, but they still did the same to Guy sometimes so he didn't pay it too much mind.
The young man came right over to Guy and stopped, hooking fingers into his belt and smiling. “Hi,” he said. “You’re Guy, right?”
Guy blinked, caught with a mouthful of food, and had to swallow quickly before he could answer. “Yeah,” he managed with a little cough. “That’s me.”
"Luke," the man said, sitting down without waiting for an invitation. "I've heard about you, you know," he went on, catching the server's eye and nodding towards Guy's drink. The server came over bare moments later with two more of the same.
"Really," Guy said carefully. Luke sounded pleasant enough, sure, but you never knew about people. "And what have you heard?"
"That you're good with a sword," Luke answered. "That you're good to have around in a tight spot-- everyone was talking about how you handled that griffin last week." Luke sat up straighter, leaning forward with an eager gleam in his eye. "If you're interested, I've got a job for you. Monster hunt," he elaborated. "There's a tribe of ligers come into the area, a long way south of their usual range. The local hunters can handle one, maybe two, but this is a little more than they usually have to deal with, you know? Anyway, I figure between the two of us, we could do a little more to, ah, encourage the tribe to move on before they get too close to the town."
"Why not get the guards to take care of it?" Guy asked, still cautious-- and curious. "Sounds like a job for more than two people."
Luke made a face. “Ligers are pretty solitary,” he explained. “Yeah, they stick together in a tribe, but when they're hunting you usually don’t find more than one or two of them together. It's more a matter of finding them in the first place, without having them find you instead. The guards are great for in town, but honestly, most of them are useless in the woods.” He held out his arms and did a quick impersonation of a man clanking around in bulky armour, and Guy laughed despite himself.
Guy thought for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Yeah, all right," he agreed. He'd seen a liger pelt at the market once-- decorative, since there wasn't much call for something as warm as fur on the island, but probably more practical here. If nothing else, maybe he could get that out of the trip. "I'll do it."
Luke gave him a broad smile and quickly rattled off the details, actually shaking Guy's hand before he walked away. Guy stared after him bemusedly for a moment before turning back to his cooled meal, wolfing down the last bites before heading back to his room.
They set out a first light, the guards barely cracking open the gate to let them through. Luke turned out to be pretty terrible at tracking, but very handy with a sword; Guy eventually elected himself to focus on finding their quarry while letting Luke deal with whatever other monsters came along to distract them. And that was nice, really, the presence of someone at his back who he could trust to keep it safe. It was something he'd been without since Van had--
Their task took them over a week, ranging out farther from the town than Guy had gone on his own, camping out in the woods and eating over a fire. And though he'd still had misgivings at the start of it, Guy ended up enjoying the outing. Luke was a pleasant companion to have, and far from being a chore, he rather enjoyed the challenge of their hunt.
Luke wasn’t a bad cook, either, even if it turned out that he didn’t like fish.
He got his pelt, in the end, and a recommendation from Luke for a tanner and craftsman who could work it up for him, turn it into some nice warm gear for the winter. He also got a small purse full of silver and copper coins, to his surprise, but when he looked to Luke the man just smiled and waved and kept on walking away.
He half expected not to see Luke again after that, for the man to vanish away wherever he'd come from. But there he was the very next day, waving at Guy from a table in his inn, a table that already held two meal platters. And Luke was there a few days later, too, when Guy had a delivery to make outside the city. And then again, when neither of them had anything to do but sit outside and watch the sky, sometimes talking but others just sitting in comfortable silence. It was around that point when Guy realized, to his bemusement, that he'd made a friend.
There were jobs to take, of course-- mostly small things, close to the city, though occasionally they ranged out into the surrounding wilds. Some days they trained together, the clack of wooden practice swords echoing amidst laughter and sweat and dust and competition. Some days they took a jug of ale out to the edge of the fields where the river ran and fished-- or, mostly, Guy fished, while Luke sat and laughed at him when he managed to fall in. The late-fall river was cold, but made better by Luke's sputtering face when Guy swiped an armful of water his way.
Two months and one day after arriving in the town of Baticul, Guy found himself quite comfortably settled despite all of his initial expectations. His neighbours smiled at him when he came down the stairs at the back of the boarding house; the owner of the bakery across the street brought him fresh bread every second morning. His landlady had added to his stash of bedding with one of her own quilts, worn and patched but still as warm as ever. It felt like-- like something, slowly, might be beginning to heal in him. Maybe he'd just needed the change of scenery. Maybe the part of him that had his mother's blood was happy to have finally come home. Whatever the reason, the memory of Hod didn't quite sting the way it had, though he still sometimes dreamed of the ocean.
The summons to the castle came on a cloudy morning, delivered by one of the Duke's own guards in a spotless white tabard. Guy made his way up to the castle doors, snug in his new liger-fur vest, and was shown inside by a man who sniffed loudly and looked at Guy down his nose. It was more than a little surreal, he mused as he was announced at the door of the audience hall-- strange, to find himself on the other side of it all. He wondered, with stinging nostalgia, whether the people who had once come to petition his father had all felt as nervous as he did just then.
The Duke was a powerful-looking man, obviously a soldier in his day. Old enough that he might have been part of Kimlasca's last real clash with Malkuth, years before, which gave Guy a moment's uneasiness about the as-yet-unspecified reason he was there. But then Guy's eyes shifted to the side, and he nearly stumbled as all of those concerns were forgotten.
Luke was standing next to the throne, and though they didn't share that red hair his resemblance to the man on that throne was undeniable. The fine, tailored clothes were a good hint, too-- there were shining buttons and braids on that dark coat, and Guy was willing to bet they were real gold. It made sense, then, why Luke had always shrugged off any question about himself or his family. Guy hadn't pushed the issue, since he hadn't really wanted to have to trade his own history, but--
Red hair, he suddenly remembered, was one of the hallmarks of the royal family of Kimalsca.
Their eyes met just once, as Guy was approaching the dais, but after Guy finished his rather wooden bow Luke didn't quite look at him again.
Thankfully, given Guy's suddenly distracted state, the Duke didn't bother with pleasantries but rather just got to the point-- which turned out to be a job offer. A position outside of the guards, which was good since Guy really had no interest in walking patrols. He would be something of a contract agent, on call when a task needed doing but otherwise free to pursue his own interests. In essence, he would do what he was doing already, just in a more official capacity and with a small weekly stipend from the Dukedom's coffers.
Guy heard it all, nodded and made the appropriate sounds, and kept his expression sternly under control for the duration of the audience. He said that he would consider the offer, and even managed to thank the Duke for the opportunity. Managed to wait until he'd been dismissed, instead of giving in to the growing urge to just get the hell out of there.
Once he was out of the castle he couldn't stop his hands from clenching, though, tight enough to make his knuckles ache. Or maybe they just ached because just then he really wanted to hit something.
He didn't remember anything about the walk back to his room, except that he thankfully didn't run into any of the townsfolk along the way. He really wasn't sure he would have been able to hold up a conversation without saying something he'd regret later on. When his door closed behind him, he stopped there just in front of the frame, breathing heavily-- then he strode forward and dragged his battered pack out from under the bed. He threw a few things into it before shoving it away again in disgust and devolving into pacing, because damn it, he didn't want to leave.
There was something tight and angry and disappointed in the pit of his stomach, and while it was mostly focused on Luke there was part of it directed at himself, too. Because despite everything that had happened, he'd done it again, hadn't he? He'd let himself start to depend on someone, believe in them, only to have them--
But he didn't want to leave. Because he'd really started to make something for himself, there in that tiny attic room in that overgrown village-- he'd miss the smell of bread coming in the window in the morning, and old Pere always out tending the streetside gardens. He would miss Baticul, like he still missed Hod except worse because Baticul was still there and he didn't have to leave if only--
He knew who was knocking on his door even before he opened it; knew the sound of those knuckles even if he didn't recognize the hesitance in them at that moment. "I didn't know he was going to send for you today," Luke said as soon as the door was open, like he was afraid-- not without reason-- that Guy would close it in his face. He looked very awkward and uncertain there on the doorstep, shoulders hunched under his fancy coat. "If I did, I would have--"
"What," Guy said sharply, "made sure to be somewhere else?"
"I was going to give you some warning," Luke finished firmly. "And not just about--" He broke off, sighing, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I guess I kind of thought you knew," he eventually said, voice quiet. "Everyone around here knows who I am, even if they've never actually seen me in person. It's the hair," he added, echoing Guy's earlier realization, and that actually explained why Luke usually walked around with that ridiculous scarf on his head. "But you never said anything, and I guess I kind of appreciated that you didn't make a big deal of it.
"And yeah," he went on, "eventually I realized that you didn't know, but by then I just-- didn't know how to tell you." He grimaced. "I mean, how do you bring that up in conversation? 'Hey, Guy, want to drop by the castle for dinner tonight? By the way, dress formal, and I hope you know your forks.'"
The comment took Guy off guard-- or, rather, the stab of unexpected emotion that accompanied it. Luke's words brought back, in perfect clarity, the memory of his sister patiently explaining each gleaming piece of silverware, drilling it into him hard enough that even so many years later he could still probably name each one.
Guy sighed, remembering, and thought about his own secrets.
"Look, I really think you should stay," Luke went on earnestly, and Guy didn't miss the way his eyes went to the discarded pack, on the bed. "You're already great at the job, the people love you. And-- okay, yeah, the way things stand now it would mean working with me a lot, but-- but not if you don't want to. If you're mad, and you don't want anything to do with me, we can arrange that, just-- don't leave." Luke looked at him in a mixture of hope and resignation. "Please."
Guy slowly shook his head, to Luke's evident distress, and rubbed a hand over his eyes, feeling suddenly weary in the wake of anger. "I would have preferred you told me before I made an idiot of myself," he said quietly.
"Sorry," Luke whispered.
Guy looked at him. And finally snorted, stepping forward to indicate his forgiveness-- or his willingness to forgive, eventually-- by a hard slap on the shoulder. "Just don't do it again," he said, rolling his eyes, and was rewarded by a sudden, brilliant smile and a very relieved Luke hugging the stuffing out of him. It only lasted a moment, but it made something in Guy go warm and content, like he hadn't been in a very long time.
"So," Guy said with a lifted eyebrow, once Luke stepped back again, "is there anything else I should know?"
Luke winced, and Guy's other eyebrow went up to join the first. "Well," Luke said slowly, "I'm kind of supposed to marry the princess of Kimlasca, if that counts?"
Guy stared, wrapping his head around the fact that he'd been monster-hunting with the heir to the throne-- hell, had pushed the guy in the river more than once-- and then burst out laughing.
Author: Cephy
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Pairing/characters: Luke, Guy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU. Assumes knowledge of Guy's backstory.
Prompt: Luke convinces the outsider Guy that it's not only the locals who want Guy to stay.
Seven months and three days after leaving Malkuth, Guy Cecil finally decided he'd gone far enough. He didn't taste ash in his mouth anymore when he ate, mostly, and it had been a few weeks' travel since he'd last heard the call of gulls overhead, so he walked through the gates of the next town intending to settle down for a while.
The town in question felt too small to be called a city, but was definitely too large for a village-- it consisted of a broad wheel of streets lined with houses and shops surrounding the lord’s manor at the centre. It wasn’t quite big enough to get lost in but was enough to warrant a troop of guards on a wall around the outside of it. Big enough that people didn't quite all know each other the way they had in Hod, though it was close.
The people looked at him sidelong as he worked his way down the main street, but he’d expected that. Blond hair wasn’t common outside of Malkuth, after all, and Kimlasca and Malkuth had bad blood between them stretching back centuries. He briefly entertained himself, that first night in his rented room, by thoughts of getting dragged from his bed by a torch-bearing mob and kicked out beyond the town gates. But he woke up the next morning still in his bed, unassaulted, and while the server at the inn's dining room was very quiet around him she still dished up a great breakfast.
He took a tiny attic room at a boarding house, and spent nearly the last of his coin on a new pair of boots and a spare blanket-- his old boots were nearly worn out, and even early fall in Kimlasca was colder than he was used to. And then he started to set himself up as a sword for hire, which mostly involved a lot of sitting in the tavern, listening to the talk and letting people get used to his presence. He dropped words in to a few ears, planting the idea, and settled in for what he expected to be a wait.
It was pure luck that he picked up a job that first day, from one of the townsfolk who just wanted help moving the soil for his garden. It wasn’t difficult work, and it certainly wasn't glamorous, but it left Guy with a satisfying ache in his muscles at the end of the day, a hot meal on the table courtesy of his patron, and the patron himself to talk to while he ate it. Old Pere smiled at him when he left, patting his shoulder in a grandfatherly fashion, and maybe he'd been wandering on his own too long, after all, but Guy found himself warmed by gesture.
And perhaps Pere had a word with his neighbours that night, because the very next morning one of the townsfolk approached Guy about some monster problems. That seemed to set the tone of things from then on: Guy ran errands and cleared out the local monsters in exchange for his board, doing the things that the town guard couldn't or wouldn't, like going along with the small groups that gathered herbs or berries from the woods, or standing watch with a farmer overnight while the late foals were born. Despite his early misgivings, the Kimlascans warmed to him quite quickly, and Guy was a little surprised at how much he came to like talking to them, helping them out in whatever way he could. And even if they mostly paid him in trade instead of coin, well, that was all right too, because he was terrible at mending his own clothes.
Guy was sitting in the dining room of what had become his usual inn, eating his dinner, when the door opened to admit someone new. A fighter, from the way he held himself and the sword at the small of his back, with a dark scarf tied rather carelessly over a head of blazing red hair. A few of the patrons looked to the door when he entered only to look quickly look away again-- curious behaviour, but they still did the same to Guy sometimes so he didn't pay it too much mind.
The young man came right over to Guy and stopped, hooking fingers into his belt and smiling. “Hi,” he said. “You’re Guy, right?”
Guy blinked, caught with a mouthful of food, and had to swallow quickly before he could answer. “Yeah,” he managed with a little cough. “That’s me.”
"Luke," the man said, sitting down without waiting for an invitation. "I've heard about you, you know," he went on, catching the server's eye and nodding towards Guy's drink. The server came over bare moments later with two more of the same.
"Really," Guy said carefully. Luke sounded pleasant enough, sure, but you never knew about people. "And what have you heard?"
"That you're good with a sword," Luke answered. "That you're good to have around in a tight spot-- everyone was talking about how you handled that griffin last week." Luke sat up straighter, leaning forward with an eager gleam in his eye. "If you're interested, I've got a job for you. Monster hunt," he elaborated. "There's a tribe of ligers come into the area, a long way south of their usual range. The local hunters can handle one, maybe two, but this is a little more than they usually have to deal with, you know? Anyway, I figure between the two of us, we could do a little more to, ah, encourage the tribe to move on before they get too close to the town."
"Why not get the guards to take care of it?" Guy asked, still cautious-- and curious. "Sounds like a job for more than two people."
Luke made a face. “Ligers are pretty solitary,” he explained. “Yeah, they stick together in a tribe, but when they're hunting you usually don’t find more than one or two of them together. It's more a matter of finding them in the first place, without having them find you instead. The guards are great for in town, but honestly, most of them are useless in the woods.” He held out his arms and did a quick impersonation of a man clanking around in bulky armour, and Guy laughed despite himself.
Guy thought for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Yeah, all right," he agreed. He'd seen a liger pelt at the market once-- decorative, since there wasn't much call for something as warm as fur on the island, but probably more practical here. If nothing else, maybe he could get that out of the trip. "I'll do it."
Luke gave him a broad smile and quickly rattled off the details, actually shaking Guy's hand before he walked away. Guy stared after him bemusedly for a moment before turning back to his cooled meal, wolfing down the last bites before heading back to his room.
They set out a first light, the guards barely cracking open the gate to let them through. Luke turned out to be pretty terrible at tracking, but very handy with a sword; Guy eventually elected himself to focus on finding their quarry while letting Luke deal with whatever other monsters came along to distract them. And that was nice, really, the presence of someone at his back who he could trust to keep it safe. It was something he'd been without since Van had--
Their task took them over a week, ranging out farther from the town than Guy had gone on his own, camping out in the woods and eating over a fire. And though he'd still had misgivings at the start of it, Guy ended up enjoying the outing. Luke was a pleasant companion to have, and far from being a chore, he rather enjoyed the challenge of their hunt.
Luke wasn’t a bad cook, either, even if it turned out that he didn’t like fish.
He got his pelt, in the end, and a recommendation from Luke for a tanner and craftsman who could work it up for him, turn it into some nice warm gear for the winter. He also got a small purse full of silver and copper coins, to his surprise, but when he looked to Luke the man just smiled and waved and kept on walking away.
He half expected not to see Luke again after that, for the man to vanish away wherever he'd come from. But there he was the very next day, waving at Guy from a table in his inn, a table that already held two meal platters. And Luke was there a few days later, too, when Guy had a delivery to make outside the city. And then again, when neither of them had anything to do but sit outside and watch the sky, sometimes talking but others just sitting in comfortable silence. It was around that point when Guy realized, to his bemusement, that he'd made a friend.
There were jobs to take, of course-- mostly small things, close to the city, though occasionally they ranged out into the surrounding wilds. Some days they trained together, the clack of wooden practice swords echoing amidst laughter and sweat and dust and competition. Some days they took a jug of ale out to the edge of the fields where the river ran and fished-- or, mostly, Guy fished, while Luke sat and laughed at him when he managed to fall in. The late-fall river was cold, but made better by Luke's sputtering face when Guy swiped an armful of water his way.
Two months and one day after arriving in the town of Baticul, Guy found himself quite comfortably settled despite all of his initial expectations. His neighbours smiled at him when he came down the stairs at the back of the boarding house; the owner of the bakery across the street brought him fresh bread every second morning. His landlady had added to his stash of bedding with one of her own quilts, worn and patched but still as warm as ever. It felt like-- like something, slowly, might be beginning to heal in him. Maybe he'd just needed the change of scenery. Maybe the part of him that had his mother's blood was happy to have finally come home. Whatever the reason, the memory of Hod didn't quite sting the way it had, though he still sometimes dreamed of the ocean.
The summons to the castle came on a cloudy morning, delivered by one of the Duke's own guards in a spotless white tabard. Guy made his way up to the castle doors, snug in his new liger-fur vest, and was shown inside by a man who sniffed loudly and looked at Guy down his nose. It was more than a little surreal, he mused as he was announced at the door of the audience hall-- strange, to find himself on the other side of it all. He wondered, with stinging nostalgia, whether the people who had once come to petition his father had all felt as nervous as he did just then.
The Duke was a powerful-looking man, obviously a soldier in his day. Old enough that he might have been part of Kimlasca's last real clash with Malkuth, years before, which gave Guy a moment's uneasiness about the as-yet-unspecified reason he was there. But then Guy's eyes shifted to the side, and he nearly stumbled as all of those concerns were forgotten.
Luke was standing next to the throne, and though they didn't share that red hair his resemblance to the man on that throne was undeniable. The fine, tailored clothes were a good hint, too-- there were shining buttons and braids on that dark coat, and Guy was willing to bet they were real gold. It made sense, then, why Luke had always shrugged off any question about himself or his family. Guy hadn't pushed the issue, since he hadn't really wanted to have to trade his own history, but--
Red hair, he suddenly remembered, was one of the hallmarks of the royal family of Kimalsca.
Their eyes met just once, as Guy was approaching the dais, but after Guy finished his rather wooden bow Luke didn't quite look at him again.
Thankfully, given Guy's suddenly distracted state, the Duke didn't bother with pleasantries but rather just got to the point-- which turned out to be a job offer. A position outside of the guards, which was good since Guy really had no interest in walking patrols. He would be something of a contract agent, on call when a task needed doing but otherwise free to pursue his own interests. In essence, he would do what he was doing already, just in a more official capacity and with a small weekly stipend from the Dukedom's coffers.
Guy heard it all, nodded and made the appropriate sounds, and kept his expression sternly under control for the duration of the audience. He said that he would consider the offer, and even managed to thank the Duke for the opportunity. Managed to wait until he'd been dismissed, instead of giving in to the growing urge to just get the hell out of there.
Once he was out of the castle he couldn't stop his hands from clenching, though, tight enough to make his knuckles ache. Or maybe they just ached because just then he really wanted to hit something.
He didn't remember anything about the walk back to his room, except that he thankfully didn't run into any of the townsfolk along the way. He really wasn't sure he would have been able to hold up a conversation without saying something he'd regret later on. When his door closed behind him, he stopped there just in front of the frame, breathing heavily-- then he strode forward and dragged his battered pack out from under the bed. He threw a few things into it before shoving it away again in disgust and devolving into pacing, because damn it, he didn't want to leave.
There was something tight and angry and disappointed in the pit of his stomach, and while it was mostly focused on Luke there was part of it directed at himself, too. Because despite everything that had happened, he'd done it again, hadn't he? He'd let himself start to depend on someone, believe in them, only to have them--
But he didn't want to leave. Because he'd really started to make something for himself, there in that tiny attic room in that overgrown village-- he'd miss the smell of bread coming in the window in the morning, and old Pere always out tending the streetside gardens. He would miss Baticul, like he still missed Hod except worse because Baticul was still there and he didn't have to leave if only--
He knew who was knocking on his door even before he opened it; knew the sound of those knuckles even if he didn't recognize the hesitance in them at that moment. "I didn't know he was going to send for you today," Luke said as soon as the door was open, like he was afraid-- not without reason-- that Guy would close it in his face. He looked very awkward and uncertain there on the doorstep, shoulders hunched under his fancy coat. "If I did, I would have--"
"What," Guy said sharply, "made sure to be somewhere else?"
"I was going to give you some warning," Luke finished firmly. "And not just about--" He broke off, sighing, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I guess I kind of thought you knew," he eventually said, voice quiet. "Everyone around here knows who I am, even if they've never actually seen me in person. It's the hair," he added, echoing Guy's earlier realization, and that actually explained why Luke usually walked around with that ridiculous scarf on his head. "But you never said anything, and I guess I kind of appreciated that you didn't make a big deal of it.
"And yeah," he went on, "eventually I realized that you didn't know, but by then I just-- didn't know how to tell you." He grimaced. "I mean, how do you bring that up in conversation? 'Hey, Guy, want to drop by the castle for dinner tonight? By the way, dress formal, and I hope you know your forks.'"
The comment took Guy off guard-- or, rather, the stab of unexpected emotion that accompanied it. Luke's words brought back, in perfect clarity, the memory of his sister patiently explaining each gleaming piece of silverware, drilling it into him hard enough that even so many years later he could still probably name each one.
Guy sighed, remembering, and thought about his own secrets.
"Look, I really think you should stay," Luke went on earnestly, and Guy didn't miss the way his eyes went to the discarded pack, on the bed. "You're already great at the job, the people love you. And-- okay, yeah, the way things stand now it would mean working with me a lot, but-- but not if you don't want to. If you're mad, and you don't want anything to do with me, we can arrange that, just-- don't leave." Luke looked at him in a mixture of hope and resignation. "Please."
Guy slowly shook his head, to Luke's evident distress, and rubbed a hand over his eyes, feeling suddenly weary in the wake of anger. "I would have preferred you told me before I made an idiot of myself," he said quietly.
"Sorry," Luke whispered.
Guy looked at him. And finally snorted, stepping forward to indicate his forgiveness-- or his willingness to forgive, eventually-- by a hard slap on the shoulder. "Just don't do it again," he said, rolling his eyes, and was rewarded by a sudden, brilliant smile and a very relieved Luke hugging the stuffing out of him. It only lasted a moment, but it made something in Guy go warm and content, like he hadn't been in a very long time.
"So," Guy said with a lifted eyebrow, once Luke stepped back again, "is there anything else I should know?"
Luke winced, and Guy's other eyebrow went up to join the first. "Well," Luke said slowly, "I'm kind of supposed to marry the princess of Kimlasca, if that counts?"
Guy stared, wrapping his head around the fact that he'd been monster-hunting with the heir to the throne-- hell, had pushed the guy in the river more than once-- and then burst out laughing.
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Date: 2010-03-23 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 01:42 am (UTC)