Post by wordy on Apr 11, 2016 19:51:29 GMT 10
Title: Nothing Holding You Back
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~913
Pairing: Raoul/Douglass
Summary (and any Warnings): The Ordeal of Knighthood tends to put things in perspective.
“If you survive the Ordeal of Knighthood, you will be a Knight of the Realm,” Raoul intoned.
“You will be sworn to protect those weaker than you,” Gary continued.
Douglass made a pretence of bathing himself as he listened. Whoever had introduced the idea of a cleansing bath immediately before the Ordeal had been a fool—it added another layer of vulnerability to what was already a nervous process. The water was warm, Mithros be blessed, yet he found his teeth chattering and had to clench his jaw to still them.
He tried not to think about the long vigil that awaited him, nor the Chamber itself. His friends had emerged relatively unscathed. So would he.
He would be fine.
“…a knight’s first duty is to understand,” Raoul finished, his voice sombre.
Gary gave Douglass a nod, clapped Raoul on the shoulder as he passed him, and left the two young men alone. The instruction over, Douglass climbed out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist. He dried himself off and dressed quickly. The undyed shirt felt rough and strange against his skin.
Raoul looked at him. “How do you feel?”
His voice caught in his throat and it took a second for him to answer. “As well as can be expected. Nervous.”
“Perfectly normal,” Raoul said, and the larger man wrapped him in a hug, patting him on the back.
That brief moment of contact almost undid him. When Raoul pulled away again, Douglass crossed his arms, his hands clenched into fists. There were a lot of stupid things that he wanted to say, but every word seemed to evaporate once it reached the tip of his tongue. He’d buried the words before, and he could do so again—even though it had been months now, and this crush had not gone away.
“Ready?” Raoul asked.
Douglass breathed deeply, then nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”
There was a touch at his shoulder and Douglass blinked, suddenly aware of the sunlight streaming in through the narrow windows of the chapel. His knees protested as he got to his feet.
The Chamber door was open and waiting in front of him, utter blackness within.
Heart thudding in his chest, Douglass walked forward to meet the dark.
“You did it. You did it.” Raoul’s whispered words at his ear; a blessedly cool blanket being draped around his shoulders; the cheer of the crowd reverberating around the small chapel. Douglass feels as though he’s submerged underwater—everything is out of focus, everything except the burning pain in his bloodied knuckles and the solid comfort of Raoul’s arm around him.
He allows himself to be led away, sits patiently as Duke Baird sees to his hurts, walks like a ghost along the corridor. He can feel the bed beneath him as he lays down, and the pillow under his head, but everything is a dream. And then there’s Raoul’s face hovering above him, dark curls tousled and his eyes concerned, saying, “Go to sleep, Doug, you can sleep. I’ll be right here.”
Douglas wants to protest—he feels awake, open, as if he might simply float away—yet when he closes his eyes the exhaustion sweeps over him and he’s dragged into oblivion.
Douglass woke with a groan. His head throbbed dreadfully, almost as bad as his hands; luckily, he was otherwise undamaged, aside from the odd bruise or two. He knew he ought to be thankful that he had left the Chamber in one piece—some squires had fared much worse—but it was difficult to remain positive when it felt as though he’d had a suit of plate armour dropped on him.
“You’re awake.” Raoul dragged his chair closer to the bedside while Douglass forced himself to sit up. “Congratulations are in order,” he said, grinning.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Douglass said. He couldn’t help grinning back; Raoul had that effect on people. On him.
Douglass hesitated, and it must have shown on his face, for Raoul’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Douglass said, “I just…”
Raoul leaned in closer and set his hand on Douglass’ arm, looking at him searchingly. “Do you need a healer? Do you want me to leave?”
He had been a coward before; he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Surviving the Chamber had filled him with a heady rush of invincibility. Douglass surged forward and captured Raoul’s mouth roughly against his, free hand coming up to grasp the back of the other man’s neck. Raoul twitched at the sudden contact and for a terrifying second Douglass knew that he’d ruined everything. Heat flooded his face. He began to pull away, but then Raoul was kissing him back. Their teeth clacked together at times and it was over almost as quickly as it had begun, but at least Raoul’s expression, when they finally did part, was not one of anger or disgust.
He looked amused.
“What are you smiling about?” Douglass asked in annoyance. His face was still hot, not to mention the blood that had rushed further south in all the excitement.
“You were my squire for almost four years,” Raoul said, shaking his head. “We had adjoining rooms, for Mithros’ sake. And you decided to jump me now?”
“We can just talk, if you like,” Douglass said, all innocence.
Raoul climbed onto the bed, growling, “Shut up,” and Douglass laughed; he kept laughing as Raoul pressed him into the mattress and kissed him thoroughly.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~913
Pairing: Raoul/Douglass
Summary (and any Warnings): The Ordeal of Knighthood tends to put things in perspective.
“If you survive the Ordeal of Knighthood, you will be a Knight of the Realm,” Raoul intoned.
“You will be sworn to protect those weaker than you,” Gary continued.
Douglass made a pretence of bathing himself as he listened. Whoever had introduced the idea of a cleansing bath immediately before the Ordeal had been a fool—it added another layer of vulnerability to what was already a nervous process. The water was warm, Mithros be blessed, yet he found his teeth chattering and had to clench his jaw to still them.
He tried not to think about the long vigil that awaited him, nor the Chamber itself. His friends had emerged relatively unscathed. So would he.
He would be fine.
“…a knight’s first duty is to understand,” Raoul finished, his voice sombre.
Gary gave Douglass a nod, clapped Raoul on the shoulder as he passed him, and left the two young men alone. The instruction over, Douglass climbed out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist. He dried himself off and dressed quickly. The undyed shirt felt rough and strange against his skin.
Raoul looked at him. “How do you feel?”
His voice caught in his throat and it took a second for him to answer. “As well as can be expected. Nervous.”
“Perfectly normal,” Raoul said, and the larger man wrapped him in a hug, patting him on the back.
That brief moment of contact almost undid him. When Raoul pulled away again, Douglass crossed his arms, his hands clenched into fists. There were a lot of stupid things that he wanted to say, but every word seemed to evaporate once it reached the tip of his tongue. He’d buried the words before, and he could do so again—even though it had been months now, and this crush had not gone away.
“Ready?” Raoul asked.
Douglass breathed deeply, then nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”
***
There was a touch at his shoulder and Douglass blinked, suddenly aware of the sunlight streaming in through the narrow windows of the chapel. His knees protested as he got to his feet.
The Chamber door was open and waiting in front of him, utter blackness within.
Heart thudding in his chest, Douglass walked forward to meet the dark.
***
“You did it. You did it.” Raoul’s whispered words at his ear; a blessedly cool blanket being draped around his shoulders; the cheer of the crowd reverberating around the small chapel. Douglass feels as though he’s submerged underwater—everything is out of focus, everything except the burning pain in his bloodied knuckles and the solid comfort of Raoul’s arm around him.
He allows himself to be led away, sits patiently as Duke Baird sees to his hurts, walks like a ghost along the corridor. He can feel the bed beneath him as he lays down, and the pillow under his head, but everything is a dream. And then there’s Raoul’s face hovering above him, dark curls tousled and his eyes concerned, saying, “Go to sleep, Doug, you can sleep. I’ll be right here.”
Douglas wants to protest—he feels awake, open, as if he might simply float away—yet when he closes his eyes the exhaustion sweeps over him and he’s dragged into oblivion.
***
Douglass woke with a groan. His head throbbed dreadfully, almost as bad as his hands; luckily, he was otherwise undamaged, aside from the odd bruise or two. He knew he ought to be thankful that he had left the Chamber in one piece—some squires had fared much worse—but it was difficult to remain positive when it felt as though he’d had a suit of plate armour dropped on him.
“You’re awake.” Raoul dragged his chair closer to the bedside while Douglass forced himself to sit up. “Congratulations are in order,” he said, grinning.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Douglass said. He couldn’t help grinning back; Raoul had that effect on people. On him.
Douglass hesitated, and it must have shown on his face, for Raoul’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Douglass said, “I just…”
Raoul leaned in closer and set his hand on Douglass’ arm, looking at him searchingly. “Do you need a healer? Do you want me to leave?”
He had been a coward before; he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Surviving the Chamber had filled him with a heady rush of invincibility. Douglass surged forward and captured Raoul’s mouth roughly against his, free hand coming up to grasp the back of the other man’s neck. Raoul twitched at the sudden contact and for a terrifying second Douglass knew that he’d ruined everything. Heat flooded his face. He began to pull away, but then Raoul was kissing him back. Their teeth clacked together at times and it was over almost as quickly as it had begun, but at least Raoul’s expression, when they finally did part, was not one of anger or disgust.
He looked amused.
“What are you smiling about?” Douglass asked in annoyance. His face was still hot, not to mention the blood that had rushed further south in all the excitement.
“You were my squire for almost four years,” Raoul said, shaking his head. “We had adjoining rooms, for Mithros’ sake. And you decided to jump me now?”
“We can just talk, if you like,” Douglass said, all innocence.
Raoul climbed onto the bed, growling, “Shut up,” and Douglass laughed; he kept laughing as Raoul pressed him into the mattress and kissed him thoroughly.