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darkrosetiger.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-12-28 08:52 pm
darkrosetiger.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-12-28 08:52 pm
Fic: Midwinter Gift (2/?), Lotrips AU, PG-13 - NC-17
Title: Midwinter Gift (2/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkrosetiger
Fandom: Lotrips AU
Pairings: SB/VM, OB/VM, implied SB/OB
Rating: NC-17 Summary: The King of the Unseelie Court has a plan that would allow him to rule forever--unless his loyal bodyguard can find a way to stop him.
Disclaimer: Not real, and not pretending to be. This is purely the product of my fevered brain, with acknowledgements to Emma Bull, Charles de Lint, and Mark Rein dot Hagen.
Archive: Not yet.
Sean's rooms in the castle are much like he left them, only slightly neater, and the bowl of milk that he left out for the brownies is gone. He's always found it strange that any of those orderly faeries claim allegiance in the chaotic, ever-changing Unseelie Court, but like so much about the fae, it's a paradox that Sean has given up trying to understand. He does occasionally wonder if he would take the oddities of Faerie for granted had he been born in Faerie, or if his mortal blood would have set him apart regardless. Then he catches himself wondering, shrugs and tells himself not to bother asking questions that have no answers.
Unstrapping the greatsword from his back and hanging it over a chair, Sean searches through his desk and removes small wooden chest. Sean has little talent for pure magic, but he does have a most un-sidhe like gift for crafting. Some years ago he used that gift to create a place to hide his great treasure, the coin that he uses to purchase favors from the lesser fey, and even some of the sidhe. With a word and a gesture, he dispels the wards around the chest and opens it to reveal four bars of dark Swiss chocolate. The fae adore sweets, but for some unknown reason, chocolate usually spoils within hours of being brought into Faerie. Even those fae who can cross the Veil that separates the mortal world from Faerie will take any chance to get chocolate when they can, making it highly useful as a bribe or bait for a trap.
Fortunately for me, Dom won't remember the six times I've done this before, Sean thinks. He breaks off a piece of one of the chocolate bars and sets it on a dish on the floor, then opens the door a crack. Taking a slim-bladed dagger out of a silver sheath in his left boot, he steps back, draws the shadows around him like a cloak, and waits.
After what seems like a few minutes--it is, of course, impossible to keep track of time in Faerie--a large, shaggy brown dog pads by Sean's door. It pauses for a moment, then nudges the door open and comes into the room so that it can sniff at the chocolate. The dog looks around and then suddenly it's gone, and in its place is a small man with tousled brown hair, a day's growth of scruffy beard, and silver eyes with pupils slit like a cat's, or like Sean's. The man grabs for the chocolate and is munching noisily when Sean moves, slamming the door shut and driving his dagger into the thick oak.
"Not fair!" Dom protests. "You tricked me!"
Sean grins and folds his arms over his chest. Dom glares back. "Let me out," he demands. "You've no right."
"You came into my home and ate my food. I have every right to demand payment."
Dom glowers. "Fine. But I won't fall for that again!"
He will, of course. Dom is a pooka, and like all of the sprites and brownies and gnomes and pixies and others that the sidhe consider their lesser cousins, his memory is a fleeting, ephemeral thing. Each time Sean has trapped Dom like this before, the pooka has sworn to be more careful, and each time, he's forgotten when presented with sweets or some fascinating shiny object.
"Say it properly, Dom," Sean says firmly. He genuinely likes the pooka, but he's not about to release Dom until he gets what passes for his word.
"FINE!" Dom yells. "Isweartoserveyoufaithfullyuntilmydebtisdischarged."
"Or?" Sean prompts him. Dom bares a mouthful of teeth that are too sharp and pointed to be human.
"--oruntilthemoonhasbeenbornlivedanddiedonceamongthestars. Now!"
Sean reaches behind him and pulls the iron dagger out of the door, replacing it in its sheath. Only his position as bodyguard to the King allows him to bring cold iron into Faerie, and then only for the defense of his liege, but Sean has learned over the years exactly how far he can stretch that permission. Sean's mortal blood makes it possible for him to handle the metal that can bind, weaken, and even kill the fae, and he's ruthless in exploiting his advantage. That advantage is slightly lessened when dealing with Dom, for Dom is a changeling: a fae who was traded for a human child and raised in the mortal world until he was old enough to run away. That's why Sean needs him right now. Even more so than half-breeds like Sean, changelings are drawn to the magical energies of human artists. Sean intends to use the pooka as a bloodhound to track the bard. It's worked before, and given how rare a True Bard is, it shouldn't be that difficult to find him with Dom's help.
"What do you need?" Dom asks, his nose almost quivering. For an answer, Sean gestures at the mirror and creates a passable reflection of the image that Orlando had shown him.
"Oh, him!" Dom laughs. "What, Himself has taken a fancy to the lad?"
"He has an interest, yes," Sean says carefully. Telling Dom is as good as telling all of Faerie, and Sean would find himself fastened in a sack of spiders or something equally agonizing but non-fatal for the next hundred years if the Summer Queen got wind of Orlando's plans.
Dom nods wisely. "I thought he might. I can't be sure, mind you, but I think this one might have the old magic in him. He tells amazing stories--even some of the humans swear he can make his pictures move." He bounces to his feet, looking excited; he's already forgotten that Sean tricked him into helping search for the mortal. "We going now?"
"Not yet," Sean tells him. "Come back at twilight, and I'll be ready. I'll even have more chocolate--and this time I won't charge you."
"Swear?" Dom's silver eyes narrow slightly, making him look more feline than canine.
"On my Name." Sean replies solemnly.
"Good! See you later!" Dom bounds out of the open door, shifting into dog form as he goes.
Sean grins and shakes his head. The magic of the binding he placed on Dom will bring the pooka back at twilight, when the Veil is thin enough for them to pass easily into the mortal world. As Sean goes to his trunk to find the clothes he keeps for such excursions, he pauses to stare at the image of the human, still in the mirror. Clear blue eyes look back at him, and suddenly uncomfortable, Sean gestures, banishing the image.
Fair enough to look on, I suppose, but he's not mine, Sean tells himself, but try as he might, he can't banish the sense of that cool, measuring regard.
Part 1
Author:
darkrosetigerFandom: Lotrips AU
Pairings: SB/VM, OB/VM, implied SB/OB
Rating: NC-17 Summary: The King of the Unseelie Court has a plan that would allow him to rule forever--unless his loyal bodyguard can find a way to stop him.
Disclaimer: Not real, and not pretending to be. This is purely the product of my fevered brain, with acknowledgements to Emma Bull, Charles de Lint, and Mark Rein dot Hagen.
Archive: Not yet.
Sean's rooms in the castle are much like he left them, only slightly neater, and the bowl of milk that he left out for the brownies is gone. He's always found it strange that any of those orderly faeries claim allegiance in the chaotic, ever-changing Unseelie Court, but like so much about the fae, it's a paradox that Sean has given up trying to understand. He does occasionally wonder if he would take the oddities of Faerie for granted had he been born in Faerie, or if his mortal blood would have set him apart regardless. Then he catches himself wondering, shrugs and tells himself not to bother asking questions that have no answers.
Unstrapping the greatsword from his back and hanging it over a chair, Sean searches through his desk and removes small wooden chest. Sean has little talent for pure magic, but he does have a most un-sidhe like gift for crafting. Some years ago he used that gift to create a place to hide his great treasure, the coin that he uses to purchase favors from the lesser fey, and even some of the sidhe. With a word and a gesture, he dispels the wards around the chest and opens it to reveal four bars of dark Swiss chocolate. The fae adore sweets, but for some unknown reason, chocolate usually spoils within hours of being brought into Faerie. Even those fae who can cross the Veil that separates the mortal world from Faerie will take any chance to get chocolate when they can, making it highly useful as a bribe or bait for a trap.
Fortunately for me, Dom won't remember the six times I've done this before, Sean thinks. He breaks off a piece of one of the chocolate bars and sets it on a dish on the floor, then opens the door a crack. Taking a slim-bladed dagger out of a silver sheath in his left boot, he steps back, draws the shadows around him like a cloak, and waits.
After what seems like a few minutes--it is, of course, impossible to keep track of time in Faerie--a large, shaggy brown dog pads by Sean's door. It pauses for a moment, then nudges the door open and comes into the room so that it can sniff at the chocolate. The dog looks around and then suddenly it's gone, and in its place is a small man with tousled brown hair, a day's growth of scruffy beard, and silver eyes with pupils slit like a cat's, or like Sean's. The man grabs for the chocolate and is munching noisily when Sean moves, slamming the door shut and driving his dagger into the thick oak.
"Not fair!" Dom protests. "You tricked me!"
Sean grins and folds his arms over his chest. Dom glares back. "Let me out," he demands. "You've no right."
"You came into my home and ate my food. I have every right to demand payment."
Dom glowers. "Fine. But I won't fall for that again!"
He will, of course. Dom is a pooka, and like all of the sprites and brownies and gnomes and pixies and others that the sidhe consider their lesser cousins, his memory is a fleeting, ephemeral thing. Each time Sean has trapped Dom like this before, the pooka has sworn to be more careful, and each time, he's forgotten when presented with sweets or some fascinating shiny object.
"Say it properly, Dom," Sean says firmly. He genuinely likes the pooka, but he's not about to release Dom until he gets what passes for his word.
"FINE!" Dom yells. "Isweartoserveyoufaithfullyuntilmydebtisdischarged."
"Or?" Sean prompts him. Dom bares a mouthful of teeth that are too sharp and pointed to be human.
"--oruntilthemoonhasbeenbornlivedanddiedonceamongthestars. Now!"
Sean reaches behind him and pulls the iron dagger out of the door, replacing it in its sheath. Only his position as bodyguard to the King allows him to bring cold iron into Faerie, and then only for the defense of his liege, but Sean has learned over the years exactly how far he can stretch that permission. Sean's mortal blood makes it possible for him to handle the metal that can bind, weaken, and even kill the fae, and he's ruthless in exploiting his advantage. That advantage is slightly lessened when dealing with Dom, for Dom is a changeling: a fae who was traded for a human child and raised in the mortal world until he was old enough to run away. That's why Sean needs him right now. Even more so than half-breeds like Sean, changelings are drawn to the magical energies of human artists. Sean intends to use the pooka as a bloodhound to track the bard. It's worked before, and given how rare a True Bard is, it shouldn't be that difficult to find him with Dom's help.
"What do you need?" Dom asks, his nose almost quivering. For an answer, Sean gestures at the mirror and creates a passable reflection of the image that Orlando had shown him.
"Oh, him!" Dom laughs. "What, Himself has taken a fancy to the lad?"
"He has an interest, yes," Sean says carefully. Telling Dom is as good as telling all of Faerie, and Sean would find himself fastened in a sack of spiders or something equally agonizing but non-fatal for the next hundred years if the Summer Queen got wind of Orlando's plans.
Dom nods wisely. "I thought he might. I can't be sure, mind you, but I think this one might have the old magic in him. He tells amazing stories--even some of the humans swear he can make his pictures move." He bounces to his feet, looking excited; he's already forgotten that Sean tricked him into helping search for the mortal. "We going now?"
"Not yet," Sean tells him. "Come back at twilight, and I'll be ready. I'll even have more chocolate--and this time I won't charge you."
"Swear?" Dom's silver eyes narrow slightly, making him look more feline than canine.
"On my Name." Sean replies solemnly.
"Good! See you later!" Dom bounds out of the open door, shifting into dog form as he goes.
Sean grins and shakes his head. The magic of the binding he placed on Dom will bring the pooka back at twilight, when the Veil is thin enough for them to pass easily into the mortal world. As Sean goes to his trunk to find the clothes he keeps for such excursions, he pauses to stare at the image of the human, still in the mirror. Clear blue eyes look back at him, and suddenly uncomfortable, Sean gestures, banishing the image.
Fair enough to look on, I suppose, but he's not mine, Sean tells himself, but try as he might, he can't banish the sense of that cool, measuring regard.
Part 1