One shot: War Bride
Jan. 2nd, 2013 04:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
frogs_of_warI meant to post three stories today for Christmas, New Year, and my birthday, but as the dishes fairy missed my house and I still have the last bit of rearranging to get my house back into shape after Christmas (and I have to clean out my fridge before it becomes a god of guilt), I’ve been rather busy.
Enjoy (if lj works enough to post this)
Title: War Bride
Status: Complete
Genre: m/m, [long ago and far away]
Rating: PG
Content: aches, a boot step, hiding, a squeeze, a knock, beauty, directness, pacing, a plan, compliments that hurt, reassurance
Length: about 2,300 words
Summary: Raziel’s mother gets a visitor that might change Raziel’s life forever.
I sink onto the floor in front of the fire, now that dinner is over. All my muscles ache from the hours of reaping today. Everyone had to help with the reaping back before the army took all the able bodied men away. The people left have to work twice as hard. I’ve got dirt under my fingernails that I can’t get out. I’ll never be clean again.
Talitha sits down beside me with a sigh. “Today was hard.”
I nod in agreement. I know I ache more than she does, but only because she works this hard every day. She doesn’t mind getting mud on her clothes or dirt in her hair. She’s the prefect daughter, everyone agrees, because she can do a man’s job, or as much as anyone her age can, but no one is going to drag her off to war.
I am not a perfect son. Our neighbors tell me I’m lucky to be so small that the army passed me by last year, that I wouldn’t survive the army, but I don’t see why. One look at me would tell anyone that I’m better behind the scenes: a message runner, cook, or the guy who polishes the officer’s boots. I am too small to carry a sword or spear and a good bow is taller than I am. Plus I know how to cook. I do the inside chores most days while Mama and Talitha are out in the field.
Some day the men will come home. I hope Pa is one of them.
A heavy boot sounds on the little bridge across the summer dry creek that leads to our house. I freeze. Mama takes in a huge breath and turns to us. “Up quickly, the two of you. Go. Now. Hide.”
Her words are quiet and urgent. Talitha and I run into the bedroom. She opens the window shutters and scrambles out. “Come on, Raziel.”
I hesitate. I only heard one boot. The army men always came in packs. And why would any of the men in town come to our house? Talmai, the one armed miller, has a wife and family to keep him busy this late in the evening. And as sure footed as Petuel the blind baker is in his kitchen, he never leaves home without one of his daughter to lead him around and I didn’t hear any other footsteps. That leaves only one man young enough to not shuffle along and my curiosity has the best of me.
“Go on ahead,” I whisper to my younger sister.
Talitha grabs my shoulder. “Don’t. Get. Caught.”
I nod in agreement. She squeezes my shoulder once more then runs off into the night. I rub the sore spot. She probably left marks.
A knock sounds loudly at the door. Whoever is out there isn’t trying to hide their presence. I sit down and try to make myself comfortable behind the drape that shrouds the bedroom doorway. Mama opens the front door. “General Lazar, good evening. Why have you come?”
“Mistress Yanai. As direct as always. I am here about a private matter, may I come in?”
Mama pulls the door all the way open and I tug the drape back a hair width so I can look upon our visitor. He’s as beautiful as always: broad shoulders, strong arms, a well-tended beard. I lay awake nights imagining those whiskers against me. Are they prickly or smooth and soft like his hair looks?
He is dressed up, I think. This is not his brigandine armor or the brown doublet he wore at the spring festival. This one is blue and looks incredibly touchable just like he does.
Is he out courting? I freeze at the thought. But, no. He couldn’t be. I refuse even imagine him belonging to someone else. How could I stop myself from watching him?
Lazar paces the floor: step, thump, step, thump on his wooden leg. In the firelight his brown hair doesn’t glint gold like it does in the sun, but it’s still a lovely shade of brown. Mama offers him the bench to sit on. She finds his peg leg unsettling, but I don’t see why. He got his injury in battle, a battle he won despite the wounds. And he doesn’t let being maimed keep him from laughing, sometimes just with his green eyes, especially when he looks at me.
Or maybe I’m imaging that.
“General Lazar, tell me what brings you here.”
“I have come about Raziel.” He rolls the r in my name so beautifully that I take a moment to understand what his said. He wants me. I blow out the breath I was holding. No, he didn’t say that.
Mama stamps her foot. “You can’t have him. I’m not going to send him off to die.”
“No, Mistress Yanai. The soldiers have passed him by so far due to his small stature, but this year he’s grown so much that his wrists and ankles are uncovered. Even a one-eyed sergeant could see he is no longer a child.”
I pull the hems of my tunic sleeves down over my wrists, but they won’t stay in place. I don’t want to grow up. I’d be happy to be a boy forever.
“We will remake his clothes. I’ll send him away if I have to. He can live in the woods off nuts and berries. Talitha can bring him bread and fresh meat when we get it.”
“What about winter rain? What about snow? Wind boar? Wolves? What if he falls and breaks his leg? He will die in the woods alone.”
I agree. I want a roof over my head, a soft bed, and a full stomach.
“Sir, I have to save him. I have to try.”
“Mistress, I have an idea for Raziel.” Lazar rolls that r again. I cross and uncross my legs then pull them hard against my chest. I can’t get comfortable. This ache is different from the one from hard work. I clinch my hands into my breeches’ legs in an effort to hold still.
“Give Raziel to me.”
I freeze. My hands won’t unclamp, but a fire burns within me. He wants me. He wants me. He wants me.
“What do you mean?” Mama paces. What did Lazar look like when he said that? What does he look like now? I pulled back the curtain slowly.
Mama’s arms are crossed as she stares Lazar down. “How could you possibly save him?”
“I will make him my wife.” Lazar looks straight at me for a long heartbeat and then back at Mama. “I will tell the village that I am going to the capital to pick up my wife. Once there, I will say she is from here. Raziel can run away and meet me on the road. I will dress him as the wife of a general should dress.”
Mama takes a deep breath. “How long must we pretend?”
Pretend? Who said anything about pretending?
“Until the war is over at very least.”
“And then Raziel will come home?”
Lazar stands up. “My reputation doesn’t allow Raziel to just take off his dress and walk out of my house. If you say my bride is your son, we will both deny it.”
I nod, but could I really betray my mother like that? Hopefully she will not put me in that position.
“Then once the war is over and my husband is home, your wife will die in childbirth and my son will walk out of the woods, no one the wiser.”
I hope the war never ends. It’s been five years, why not thirty more?
Lazar grunts, which doesn’t sound like an agreement, but Mama is already talking things through. I will need a dress to wear to the capital. She will redo one of hers. I will need a new name and age. I hope I get a say in the new name. I want Kitra or Marta or Nahara or something else with a nice rolly r for Lazar to wrap his tongue around.
Mama says that although I am small, with the right clothes I can pass for sixteen, the age I will be in a few months. I think we should go younger. That would help explain if I continued to grow for a while and my lack of babies.
“But,” Mama turns back to Lazar, “since you were probably seen coming here, I will tell everyone you came for Talitha.”
Ouch.
“I will refuse your bride price saying she is too young.”
Lazar frowns. “Twelve is very young.”
Mama shakes her head. “Not too young.”
Lazar’s frown deepens. But no one will begrudge him a young bride. He is a war hero.
“General Lazar, send off to the capital and when you receive a letter back, talk about your bride. Raziel will disappear into the woods for days at a time while the weather holds, so no one will notice the real day he leaves.”
That will be the hardest part of the whole thing. Maybe I can sneak in at night and sleep in my bed.
Lazar nods to Mama. “Mistress Yanai, you are a woman of great resource. If we had men like you, the war would already be won.”
Mama frowns. “They have my husband, my father, and all my brothers.”
“And I pray they return soon.” But Lazar couldn’t really want the war to be over with me so close to his bed, could he? Or have my relatives come back in the way men have so far, with bits missing or dead? “Uninjured.”
Mama nods. “As do I. General Lazar, have we concluded our business?”
They quickly go over the whole thing again. Then Lazar glances my way and takes his leave.
I listen for the step thump as he follows the path back to town.
Mama sits down on the bench and stares at the fire. My mind is racing faster than a galloping horse, but my body moves like a turtle. I wrap my arms around Mama’s shoulders. “This is the right thing to do.”
She pulls me to her and holds me close. I pet her hair. “I will be safe there.”
She wipes her eyes. “I know.” Then she grins up at me. “I just didn’t know how to break it to you.”
She acts like Lazar’s offer is a mixed blessing, when I know it will be heaven. Won’t it? I turn to the door. Mama grabs my hands. “Does Talitha know?”
I shake my head. She squeezes my fingers. “Then don’t tell her. The fewer that know, the safer you are.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Talitha’s heavy footfalls sound on the dirt path and then on the wooden porch. She throws open the door. “Is he gone?”
“And what good would it have been for you to hide if he hadn’t been?”
“But what did he come for?”
“None of your concern.”
“It is my concern. I live here. Any man who chases me out of my own home is my business. I should set fire to his leg.”
“Talitha! Don’t say things like that. If you were a boy, you would have volunteered to fight.”
“No.” Talitha plops down on the bench. “Who wants to wave sticks around and follow orders?”
“You should obey orders here as well.”
Talitha sighs. “I hope the war never ends. I don’t want to give up plowing. Me, the ox, the smell of fresh dirt, and the clear blue sky. What more could I want?”
I slip in the bedroom and out the window while Mama answers that question. I’ve heard it all before. Many times.
I take the shortcut behind the neighbors’ houses and bypass the village square. The night is warm and the moon is bright tonight, leading my way. But that just means that soon the moon will hide its face. I’m not looking forward to sleeping outside even if it’s just for a few days.
General Lazar’s house is the biggest and nicest in the village. The cold winds never sneak through the solid stone walls and the floors shine with wax. But none of the lights are burning. Where is Lazar? Has he already gone to bed?
Step, thump, step, thump sound on the cobbled walk. I turn. There he is in the moonlight. His beauty takes me breath away.
He stops feet from me and I feel his gaze against my skin. I lick my lips. “I… I just have to know. Will this be pretend or will I really be your bride?”
Lazar’s glance eats me alive and settles on my lips. He licks his own. “Raziel.” His voice could melt mountains. “Our marriage will be as real as you want it to be.”
My body is ready to explode. I hug myself to contain it. “That’s what I hoped.”
I step forward and breathe in Lazar’s tantalizing scent. I grab his doublet and pull his mouth down to meet mine. His whiskers feel wonderful against my face, not too stiff, not too smooth. I press my lips against his. His arms come around me and for a second we are one. Then I step back. I want this memory of him to keep me warm on the cold nights I must sleep outside.
I turn and run home. A life in dresses is easy payment for nights in Lazar’s arms.
Enjoy (if lj works enough to post this)
Title: War Bride
Status: Complete
Genre: m/m, [long ago and far away]
Rating: PG
Content: aches, a boot step, hiding, a squeeze, a knock, beauty, directness, pacing, a plan, compliments that hurt, reassurance
Length: about 2,300 words
Summary: Raziel’s mother gets a visitor that might change Raziel’s life forever.
I sink onto the floor in front of the fire, now that dinner is over. All my muscles ache from the hours of reaping today. Everyone had to help with the reaping back before the army took all the able bodied men away. The people left have to work twice as hard. I’ve got dirt under my fingernails that I can’t get out. I’ll never be clean again.
Talitha sits down beside me with a sigh. “Today was hard.”
I nod in agreement. I know I ache more than she does, but only because she works this hard every day. She doesn’t mind getting mud on her clothes or dirt in her hair. She’s the prefect daughter, everyone agrees, because she can do a man’s job, or as much as anyone her age can, but no one is going to drag her off to war.
I am not a perfect son. Our neighbors tell me I’m lucky to be so small that the army passed me by last year, that I wouldn’t survive the army, but I don’t see why. One look at me would tell anyone that I’m better behind the scenes: a message runner, cook, or the guy who polishes the officer’s boots. I am too small to carry a sword or spear and a good bow is taller than I am. Plus I know how to cook. I do the inside chores most days while Mama and Talitha are out in the field.
Some day the men will come home. I hope Pa is one of them.
A heavy boot sounds on the little bridge across the summer dry creek that leads to our house. I freeze. Mama takes in a huge breath and turns to us. “Up quickly, the two of you. Go. Now. Hide.”
Her words are quiet and urgent. Talitha and I run into the bedroom. She opens the window shutters and scrambles out. “Come on, Raziel.”
I hesitate. I only heard one boot. The army men always came in packs. And why would any of the men in town come to our house? Talmai, the one armed miller, has a wife and family to keep him busy this late in the evening. And as sure footed as Petuel the blind baker is in his kitchen, he never leaves home without one of his daughter to lead him around and I didn’t hear any other footsteps. That leaves only one man young enough to not shuffle along and my curiosity has the best of me.
“Go on ahead,” I whisper to my younger sister.
Talitha grabs my shoulder. “Don’t. Get. Caught.”
I nod in agreement. She squeezes my shoulder once more then runs off into the night. I rub the sore spot. She probably left marks.
A knock sounds loudly at the door. Whoever is out there isn’t trying to hide their presence. I sit down and try to make myself comfortable behind the drape that shrouds the bedroom doorway. Mama opens the front door. “General Lazar, good evening. Why have you come?”
“Mistress Yanai. As direct as always. I am here about a private matter, may I come in?”
Mama pulls the door all the way open and I tug the drape back a hair width so I can look upon our visitor. He’s as beautiful as always: broad shoulders, strong arms, a well-tended beard. I lay awake nights imagining those whiskers against me. Are they prickly or smooth and soft like his hair looks?
He is dressed up, I think. This is not his brigandine armor or the brown doublet he wore at the spring festival. This one is blue and looks incredibly touchable just like he does.
Is he out courting? I freeze at the thought. But, no. He couldn’t be. I refuse even imagine him belonging to someone else. How could I stop myself from watching him?
Lazar paces the floor: step, thump, step, thump on his wooden leg. In the firelight his brown hair doesn’t glint gold like it does in the sun, but it’s still a lovely shade of brown. Mama offers him the bench to sit on. She finds his peg leg unsettling, but I don’t see why. He got his injury in battle, a battle he won despite the wounds. And he doesn’t let being maimed keep him from laughing, sometimes just with his green eyes, especially when he looks at me.
Or maybe I’m imaging that.
“General Lazar, tell me what brings you here.”
“I have come about Raziel.” He rolls the r in my name so beautifully that I take a moment to understand what his said. He wants me. I blow out the breath I was holding. No, he didn’t say that.
Mama stamps her foot. “You can’t have him. I’m not going to send him off to die.”
“No, Mistress Yanai. The soldiers have passed him by so far due to his small stature, but this year he’s grown so much that his wrists and ankles are uncovered. Even a one-eyed sergeant could see he is no longer a child.”
I pull the hems of my tunic sleeves down over my wrists, but they won’t stay in place. I don’t want to grow up. I’d be happy to be a boy forever.
“We will remake his clothes. I’ll send him away if I have to. He can live in the woods off nuts and berries. Talitha can bring him bread and fresh meat when we get it.”
“What about winter rain? What about snow? Wind boar? Wolves? What if he falls and breaks his leg? He will die in the woods alone.”
I agree. I want a roof over my head, a soft bed, and a full stomach.
“Sir, I have to save him. I have to try.”
“Mistress, I have an idea for Raziel.” Lazar rolls that r again. I cross and uncross my legs then pull them hard against my chest. I can’t get comfortable. This ache is different from the one from hard work. I clinch my hands into my breeches’ legs in an effort to hold still.
“Give Raziel to me.”
I freeze. My hands won’t unclamp, but a fire burns within me. He wants me. He wants me. He wants me.
“What do you mean?” Mama paces. What did Lazar look like when he said that? What does he look like now? I pulled back the curtain slowly.
Mama’s arms are crossed as she stares Lazar down. “How could you possibly save him?”
“I will make him my wife.” Lazar looks straight at me for a long heartbeat and then back at Mama. “I will tell the village that I am going to the capital to pick up my wife. Once there, I will say she is from here. Raziel can run away and meet me on the road. I will dress him as the wife of a general should dress.”
Mama takes a deep breath. “How long must we pretend?”
Pretend? Who said anything about pretending?
“Until the war is over at very least.”
“And then Raziel will come home?”
Lazar stands up. “My reputation doesn’t allow Raziel to just take off his dress and walk out of my house. If you say my bride is your son, we will both deny it.”
I nod, but could I really betray my mother like that? Hopefully she will not put me in that position.
“Then once the war is over and my husband is home, your wife will die in childbirth and my son will walk out of the woods, no one the wiser.”
I hope the war never ends. It’s been five years, why not thirty more?
Lazar grunts, which doesn’t sound like an agreement, but Mama is already talking things through. I will need a dress to wear to the capital. She will redo one of hers. I will need a new name and age. I hope I get a say in the new name. I want Kitra or Marta or Nahara or something else with a nice rolly r for Lazar to wrap his tongue around.
Mama says that although I am small, with the right clothes I can pass for sixteen, the age I will be in a few months. I think we should go younger. That would help explain if I continued to grow for a while and my lack of babies.
“But,” Mama turns back to Lazar, “since you were probably seen coming here, I will tell everyone you came for Talitha.”
Ouch.
“I will refuse your bride price saying she is too young.”
Lazar frowns. “Twelve is very young.”
Mama shakes her head. “Not too young.”
Lazar’s frown deepens. But no one will begrudge him a young bride. He is a war hero.
“General Lazar, send off to the capital and when you receive a letter back, talk about your bride. Raziel will disappear into the woods for days at a time while the weather holds, so no one will notice the real day he leaves.”
That will be the hardest part of the whole thing. Maybe I can sneak in at night and sleep in my bed.
Lazar nods to Mama. “Mistress Yanai, you are a woman of great resource. If we had men like you, the war would already be won.”
Mama frowns. “They have my husband, my father, and all my brothers.”
“And I pray they return soon.” But Lazar couldn’t really want the war to be over with me so close to his bed, could he? Or have my relatives come back in the way men have so far, with bits missing or dead? “Uninjured.”
Mama nods. “As do I. General Lazar, have we concluded our business?”
They quickly go over the whole thing again. Then Lazar glances my way and takes his leave.
I listen for the step thump as he follows the path back to town.
Mama sits down on the bench and stares at the fire. My mind is racing faster than a galloping horse, but my body moves like a turtle. I wrap my arms around Mama’s shoulders. “This is the right thing to do.”
She pulls me to her and holds me close. I pet her hair. “I will be safe there.”
She wipes her eyes. “I know.” Then she grins up at me. “I just didn’t know how to break it to you.”
She acts like Lazar’s offer is a mixed blessing, when I know it will be heaven. Won’t it? I turn to the door. Mama grabs my hands. “Does Talitha know?”
I shake my head. She squeezes my fingers. “Then don’t tell her. The fewer that know, the safer you are.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Talitha’s heavy footfalls sound on the dirt path and then on the wooden porch. She throws open the door. “Is he gone?”
“And what good would it have been for you to hide if he hadn’t been?”
“But what did he come for?”
“None of your concern.”
“It is my concern. I live here. Any man who chases me out of my own home is my business. I should set fire to his leg.”
“Talitha! Don’t say things like that. If you were a boy, you would have volunteered to fight.”
“No.” Talitha plops down on the bench. “Who wants to wave sticks around and follow orders?”
“You should obey orders here as well.”
Talitha sighs. “I hope the war never ends. I don’t want to give up plowing. Me, the ox, the smell of fresh dirt, and the clear blue sky. What more could I want?”
I slip in the bedroom and out the window while Mama answers that question. I’ve heard it all before. Many times.
I take the shortcut behind the neighbors’ houses and bypass the village square. The night is warm and the moon is bright tonight, leading my way. But that just means that soon the moon will hide its face. I’m not looking forward to sleeping outside even if it’s just for a few days.
General Lazar’s house is the biggest and nicest in the village. The cold winds never sneak through the solid stone walls and the floors shine with wax. But none of the lights are burning. Where is Lazar? Has he already gone to bed?
Step, thump, step, thump sound on the cobbled walk. I turn. There he is in the moonlight. His beauty takes me breath away.
He stops feet from me and I feel his gaze against my skin. I lick my lips. “I… I just have to know. Will this be pretend or will I really be your bride?”
Lazar’s glance eats me alive and settles on my lips. He licks his own. “Raziel.” His voice could melt mountains. “Our marriage will be as real as you want it to be.”
My body is ready to explode. I hug myself to contain it. “That’s what I hoped.”
I step forward and breathe in Lazar’s tantalizing scent. I grab his doublet and pull his mouth down to meet mine. His whiskers feel wonderful against my face, not too stiff, not too smooth. I press my lips against his. His arms come around me and for a second we are one. Then I step back. I want this memory of him to keep me warm on the cold nights I must sleep outside.
I turn and run home. A life in dresses is easy payment for nights in Lazar’s arms.
