Post by housewife on Dec 5, 2012 9:31:47 GMT 10
Title: Rebirth and Lessons
Rating: R
Prompt: Homecoming
Summary: Thom thinks he knows what he's doing, raising Roger from the dead.
Notes: I like me some angst, so I hope it isn't too overboard here... Also, woohoo! First fic! Warnings: slash with some implied bedroom goings-on, potentially dubcon, I think that's all I should warn about, but correct me if I'm wrong.
---
“I didn’t need Delia at all, did I? You would have come anyway.”
It was, he was distantly aware, Alanna’s nightmare. Roger awake in his tomb. But that did not matter. She would need it, after all, to make peace with herself for his death. He knew his sister. Still, it wasn’t for her.
It irked him, however, that these were Roger’s first words. And beyond that, he hated himself that it mattered. There were no thanks in them, just cold calculated knowledge. Why he should have expected gratitude was beyond him; he knew Roger.
I did it because I need you.
There was power and glory and history, a crazy act which could be done and therefore should be done, but there was also that. He did not say the words, for he was not that stupid, but they were there. He knew it, and Roger knew it. Roger would use it. Had used it.
The unspoken words stood in the air, and Thom could not make any other excuse; he was too worn.
“But I notice you have not left me whole. Am I not to be trusted with magic, Thom?”
Pale and grey, completely tapped out, Thom still snapped to attention at those words. He was wary for what Roger would do next.
“Never mind. You are exhausted, you need sleep.”
As if responding to the words, Thom swayed. Roger, surprisingly sprightly, was there to support him, holding him with a tenderness that betrayed something yet, some feeling beyond mere contempt.
“I suppose you did not go so far as to plan how to return to your rooms safely? A dead man would surely attract attention you don’t want.” Again, despite the hard words, Thom felt a notion of concern.
He didn’t question how Roger knew the time, instead fumbling in his pocket for a round, smooth stone. “Invisibility stone. Don’t need magic.”
“You’re better at planning than I remember. Have I been gone so long?”
Not even waiting for the answer, Roger took the stone, swept a protesting and altogether too light Thom into his arms, and left the tomb.
At the door to his chambers, Thom made as if to leave Roger.
“No, Thom. You woke me, and you must have your reward.”
There was something both threatening and promising in his tone, but Thom knew what was to come. Both hopeful and fearful, he complied, opening the door to them both.
Later, broken and exhausted and used by Roger, Thom finally slept.
*
“This is not, perhaps, the return you expected?”
He was standing in Roger’s rooms after the royal council which had decided Roger’s fate, and Roger himself was seated idly at his desk.
The news had spread quickly. It was not, after all, an act which he intended to keep private – his first great deed, raising the dead. Borrowing his sister’s magic, in particular he thought a neat touch. Few could do that without coming to harm. Binding Roger’s magic to his tomb was also an important precaution. Roger was dangerous, an unpredictable creature, and the palace would never have accepted his return unless they thought him chained.
“My dear Thom, no!” That silky, charming drawl; for he was always the perfect actor. “This is exactly the return I expected. Not a soul trusts me, and I have lost my gift. As punishment for my wrongdoings, I died, but I am now a new man. I have been forgiven and had my titles returned. As punishment for your wrongdoings, you must watch me and report to the crown. All this means for us is you have all the more time for me. And I believe you still want to learn.”
The smile turned more predatory, and Thom shivered instinctively. He’d never before found someone quite like Roger, quite like himself, with what he felt was the appropriate regard for power – that it should be used. Though Thom would perhaps one day be the stronger sorcerer, Roger had so much knowledge, and he had to learn. If he was surprised, or suspicious, that Roger had let him learn, given his reputation, he never let it enter his conscious thoughts. He had finally found another human worthy of his attention, and he would not let that go. It was only a pity that Roger was as cunning as a snake.
“Are you cold, Thom? Perhaps you should light the fire? I do believe your gift should be returned.”
It was true, his magical strength had replenished itself in the week since Roger’s waking, but he had yet to use his gift; a slight unease permeated his thoughts when it came to mind. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t want to use his gift. He hadn’t breathed a word of it, but he suspected Roger knew.
Blood red flames appeared in his hands when he called upon his gift.
“No,” he breathed, sagging against a wall.
“Yes,” said Roger, approaching, “You need me, but I have needed you. Who else would be strong enough, and prideful enough, to wake me from my sleep? And of course, smart enough to bind my gift. Thom, I know you, and I was ready for you. You are much like me, and for that I admire you, but you are yet a child. Fortunately for you, I am older and wiser, and I will take care of you, and forgive you your mistakes.”
He seized Thom’s chin in his hand, placed a kiss like fire on his lips, and purred, “And you will never defy me again.”
Rating: R
Prompt: Homecoming
Summary: Thom thinks he knows what he's doing, raising Roger from the dead.
Notes: I like me some angst, so I hope it isn't too overboard here... Also, woohoo! First fic! Warnings: slash with some implied bedroom goings-on, potentially dubcon, I think that's all I should warn about, but correct me if I'm wrong.
---
“I didn’t need Delia at all, did I? You would have come anyway.”
It was, he was distantly aware, Alanna’s nightmare. Roger awake in his tomb. But that did not matter. She would need it, after all, to make peace with herself for his death. He knew his sister. Still, it wasn’t for her.
It irked him, however, that these were Roger’s first words. And beyond that, he hated himself that it mattered. There were no thanks in them, just cold calculated knowledge. Why he should have expected gratitude was beyond him; he knew Roger.
I did it because I need you.
There was power and glory and history, a crazy act which could be done and therefore should be done, but there was also that. He did not say the words, for he was not that stupid, but they were there. He knew it, and Roger knew it. Roger would use it. Had used it.
The unspoken words stood in the air, and Thom could not make any other excuse; he was too worn.
“But I notice you have not left me whole. Am I not to be trusted with magic, Thom?”
Pale and grey, completely tapped out, Thom still snapped to attention at those words. He was wary for what Roger would do next.
“Never mind. You are exhausted, you need sleep.”
As if responding to the words, Thom swayed. Roger, surprisingly sprightly, was there to support him, holding him with a tenderness that betrayed something yet, some feeling beyond mere contempt.
“I suppose you did not go so far as to plan how to return to your rooms safely? A dead man would surely attract attention you don’t want.” Again, despite the hard words, Thom felt a notion of concern.
He didn’t question how Roger knew the time, instead fumbling in his pocket for a round, smooth stone. “Invisibility stone. Don’t need magic.”
“You’re better at planning than I remember. Have I been gone so long?”
Not even waiting for the answer, Roger took the stone, swept a protesting and altogether too light Thom into his arms, and left the tomb.
At the door to his chambers, Thom made as if to leave Roger.
“No, Thom. You woke me, and you must have your reward.”
There was something both threatening and promising in his tone, but Thom knew what was to come. Both hopeful and fearful, he complied, opening the door to them both.
Later, broken and exhausted and used by Roger, Thom finally slept.
*
“This is not, perhaps, the return you expected?”
He was standing in Roger’s rooms after the royal council which had decided Roger’s fate, and Roger himself was seated idly at his desk.
The news had spread quickly. It was not, after all, an act which he intended to keep private – his first great deed, raising the dead. Borrowing his sister’s magic, in particular he thought a neat touch. Few could do that without coming to harm. Binding Roger’s magic to his tomb was also an important precaution. Roger was dangerous, an unpredictable creature, and the palace would never have accepted his return unless they thought him chained.
“My dear Thom, no!” That silky, charming drawl; for he was always the perfect actor. “This is exactly the return I expected. Not a soul trusts me, and I have lost my gift. As punishment for my wrongdoings, I died, but I am now a new man. I have been forgiven and had my titles returned. As punishment for your wrongdoings, you must watch me and report to the crown. All this means for us is you have all the more time for me. And I believe you still want to learn.”
The smile turned more predatory, and Thom shivered instinctively. He’d never before found someone quite like Roger, quite like himself, with what he felt was the appropriate regard for power – that it should be used. Though Thom would perhaps one day be the stronger sorcerer, Roger had so much knowledge, and he had to learn. If he was surprised, or suspicious, that Roger had let him learn, given his reputation, he never let it enter his conscious thoughts. He had finally found another human worthy of his attention, and he would not let that go. It was only a pity that Roger was as cunning as a snake.
“Are you cold, Thom? Perhaps you should light the fire? I do believe your gift should be returned.”
It was true, his magical strength had replenished itself in the week since Roger’s waking, but he had yet to use his gift; a slight unease permeated his thoughts when it came to mind. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t want to use his gift. He hadn’t breathed a word of it, but he suspected Roger knew.
Blood red flames appeared in his hands when he called upon his gift.
“No,” he breathed, sagging against a wall.
“Yes,” said Roger, approaching, “You need me, but I have needed you. Who else would be strong enough, and prideful enough, to wake me from my sleep? And of course, smart enough to bind my gift. Thom, I know you, and I was ready for you. You are much like me, and for that I admire you, but you are yet a child. Fortunately for you, I am older and wiser, and I will take care of you, and forgive you your mistakes.”
He seized Thom’s chin in his hand, placed a kiss like fire on his lips, and purred, “And you will never defy me again.”