Fanfic - Dance

Saturday, February 6th, 2016 07:25 am
scaredykitty: (Default)
[personal profile] scaredykitty posting in [community profile] mindcracklove
Hi.

Nebris pursed his lips, looking over his kingdom, his land.

A burned, charred, brutal mess of a country, torn apart from the countless wars and crimes that had been committed in his name to allow him to steal and seal his claim to the throne.

He shifted uneasily on the throne, sighing. He had everything, if not the love an adoration of the population. He had settled a long time ago for fear and hatred from them, he knew the only way they'd love him if he constantly used magic. He had everything he'd ever wanted.

Or nearly everything. His loyal (or at the very least, the least likely peasant to try and brutally murder him in his sleep) assistant watched him, shrinking back as his face twisted into a grimace, remembering the one thing, the one person he didn't have.

He should never have taught Arkas, took him under his wing, showed him how to game the system. He had thought, naively so, that Arkas was too young, too innocent to try and overthrow him.

But of course he had tried. And given the scars he still bore, scars from letting Arkas get too close, far too close, scars he'd feel every day with every movement, he'd never let another get that close again.

He dug his fingers into the golden throne, fingers denting the throne, adding to the rows on both sides that were already scrapped away. Standing up, he stalked away to his private quarters, closing the door behind himself, pacing back and forth as he pondered the plan that had been working at the back of his mind for months.

He knew one way, possibly, to get Arkas back. But he'd have to grovel to him, make Arkas think he had won. He grumbled, chewing a fingernail nervously before stopping. He didn't want to grovel before him, but if it led to him winning against Arkas, tricking him...

He sighed, eyes darkening as he finally decided to finalize his plan.

- - -

Arkas yawned, rolling out of bed. He didn't have quite the magnificent as a bed as a king might have, but he was working on it. His main obstacle was the fact he has hiding in the middle of a jungle, far from any civilization that might have proven to be a base of power. All had fallen to his former...friend, “Lord” Nebris.

Sighing, he rolled out of bed, looking into the mirror next to the bed as he washed up, planning his day. He had almost finished a blood magic altar, not that it would do much help, he had nothing to sacrifice to it. He sighed, shaking his head as he dried off, running a hand along the scars marking his face before pulling it away.

Stepping outside he frowned, staring at the small raven that frowned at him. It pecked him quickly, eyes glowing red as it tasted his blood. Jerking his hand away, he cursed under his breath, backing away quicker as the bird cackled and dropped a letter before flying away.

He snatched the letter off the ground, opening it up. He trembled as he noticed it bore a very particular red wax seal.

“Dear Arkas,

I think it's time we met again. It's been too long, and

and...I miss you.

Let's met where we always met before.

Nebris I'm...sorry.”

Arkas grimaced, fingers clenching into the letter, tempted to chuck everything into the lava pool nearby. Nebris knew where he was now, Nebris could...

He looked at the letter closer, face going bright red as he noticed the post script, trying to remind his heart exactly why they had left.

He hadn't even really noticed how he was walking back into his base, and how he had started to pack his bags, gathering the stuff to travel...

- - -

Nebris chewed a fingernail nervously before catching himself, trying to remain aloof and calm as he waited, alone. He looked around, staring at the disused and abandoned magic temple, tapestries hanging in disrepair and neglect. It had once been a powerful nexus of magic, but after his betrayal at...his...hands, Nebris had neglected it, let it go. Dark magics hung in the air, faint and loathsome, reminders of past “training” sessions.

He was broken from his reverie as he heard light footsteps behind him.

Whirling around, cloak billowing, he only just managed to stop from smirking as he saw Arkas shrink away from him for a moment before he gathered his strength, brown eyes strong and calm again. His fingers itched to run along the scar on Arkas' face, the one he had put there so long ago.

“Say it,” Arkas said, frowning at Nebris, hands open, showing he had no weapons. Nebris automatically copied the action, both knowing it to be ultimately futile as they both knew too much magic to ever be considered unarmed.

“Say what?” Nebris said, confused.

“Say you're sorry,” Arkas said, frowning.

Nebris blushed slightly, looking away. Of course he'd want to hear him say it, hear him grovel to him before he'd accept it.

The silence lengthened, the only sounds both of their breathing.

Nebris sighed softly, breath low and heavy.

“I'm...sorry. I'm sorry, okay?”

He was surprised as Arkas launched at him, hugging him tightly, arms and legs and limbs all over the place. Nebris hugged him back tightly, eyes darkening as he murmured under his breath slightly.

His hand sizzled as the black dagger materialized, silently.

He quietly placed the tip against Arkas' back, turning to look him in the eye, surprised when he saw Arkas was already looking at him, eyes sad.

“You don't think that was actually going to work, do you?” Arkas said quietly.

Nebris laughed softly, feeling the tip of a dagger from Arkas in his own back.

“This is like...a dance, yes? A never ending dance. You have a book about that somewhere, I think,” Arkas said as they both pulled away cautiously, almost sadly.

“Most likely. A fun dance, at least?” Nebris said, lips twitching slightly. He had really hoped Arkas was as naïve as he been last they met, but he knew that was impossible.

Arkas seemed to ponder the idea for a moment before dropping his dagger, the magic disappearing in a hiss of blood and heat before he launched himself at Nebris again, taking him off balance for a moment.

“Then let us dance, Nebris, one last time, for old time's sake, yes,” Arkas said, twirling Nebris off balance as he grabbed Nebris' knife, throwing it away before clinging to Nebris, looking at him, waiting.

- - -

The guards above frowned slightly as they heard the sound of fighting below, crackle of magic and blood and electricity.

Their cautious approach stopped dead as they heard the sounds changed, causing them to blush slightly, turning away from each other, ignoring each other as they ignored the sounds below.

Date: Saturday, February 6th, 2016 12:40 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Wonderful. Amazing. Fantastic. This has a very good story for something so short. I usually find it difficult to get a short story to be interesting. I like good Arkbris. (Please say that's the right ship name. I live in fear of messing one up.)

Also, good to see a story from you, scaredykitty! I've read all your old ones twice, so new scaredykitty fics are appreciated. :)

-the lurkiest lurker

Date: Saturday, February 6th, 2016 12:43 pm (UTC)
sunsetmondays: salad (Default)
From: [personal profile] sunsetmondays
Mmmmm Arkbris.
Always good to see you writing again, bekah!
<3

Date: Saturday, February 6th, 2016 12:44 pm (UTC)
ruddiestbubbles: (Default)
From: [personal profile] ruddiestbubbles
Very intriguining! I love their heated little rivalry, though I will never love Arkbris as much as Nebtho, never the less, this was beautifulu written!

Date: Saturday, February 6th, 2016 12:51 pm (UTC)
scara: Steampunk hat (Default)
From: [personal profile] scara
This is a great one shot, the line between love and hate being blurred :)

Date: Saturday, February 6th, 2016 12:56 pm (UTC)
scara: Steampunk hat (Default)
From: [personal profile] scara
Indeed the metaphor of it being a dance is very apt. The dance could be never ending as if it came down to the wire which would win out their ambition or their love?
Edited Date: Saturday, February 6th, 2016 12:57 pm (UTC)

Date: Saturday, February 6th, 2016 01:35 pm (UTC)
scara: Steampunk hat (Default)
From: [personal profile] scara
Indeed.

Ambition would win and then one of them would live with the guilt of having let the ambition win over their love.

Date: Sunday, February 7th, 2016 03:00 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Love and hate. Two of the strangest and strongest emotions. Some call them opposites, but really, they are practically the same. This story and it's characters walk the thin line between them, and I love it. Nicely done and well written.
-Observing Anon

Date: Sunday, February 7th, 2016 06:48 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Well said, Observing Anon.

-the lurkiest lurker

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