Speak
[ Ao3 Ver. ]
Gen. Audiences
Characters: Joshua | Jhosua , Artur | Asseray
Fandom: Fire Emblem : The Sacred Stones
Pairing: M/M
(notes in tags)
Artur's someone who never minces words, he knows their power well. He won't say something he can't take back. Joshua's someone who speaks his mind freely, without abandon. His words fly away like birds.
Artur finally learns it's okay to say what you feel.
Artur's someone who never minces words, he knows their power well. One slip, one misstep, a sylable out of place and the spell backfires. He's been on the receiving end before and recalls the terrible scent of burnt hair, his own hair, his curls wouldn't be nearly as short as they are if he'd been more careful in his youth. But, that was childhood, and Artur knew he didn't know better simply because he wasn't experienced. Now, on the other hand, he's much better about it. He prides himself for perfect enunciation and casting, though Lute may be the only one who has him beat in that regard.
Yet that initial hesitance, the mental double check he does before even a sound moves past his lips, is something nowhere near present in Joshua. Artur envies that, the man speaks his mind freely -- and very often does-- without a care to what may come of it.
Oh, but Joshua isn't dumb, Artur knows that. He can read and an atmosphere well enough, fast enough to know just when to let that loose tongue wag and when ti tighten it up with sweet words. Come to think of it, where had he learned such phrases? Artur's never heard them before, but assumes they're simply a regional difference.
Likely the result of being out on the dusty streets of Jehanna, where quick wit and a quicker tongue can save you from both a bad bargain and a bad situation. Though Artur hadn't been there himself, he recalls the storybooks of his youth; their sweeping gold sands and arid climates, Lute had particular fun with reading about bands of mercenaries who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Or, more often Artur found, kept to themselves.
After all, Joshua certainly couldn't have learned it within his own palace halls. Artur likes to think he tried, playing the rebel to his adoring mother wasn't far off of Joshua's predicted path. It's a fun image to play with in his head; Joshua's short tangle of red hair slipping in and out of windows to sneak away from stuffy palace life, to live a little more on the edge of his knife in the streets among people bound by coin and deep loyalty. Certainly, Artur thinks, the mercenary guilds welcomed him into their folds thinking he's the queen's son and would make an excellent future leader. Artur hides a chuckle, his mind miles away imagining the tiny prince playing with wooden swords in crowded rooms, those around him cheering him on with every swish.
"... What're you staring for?" His voice snaps Artur from his daydream, the rest of his silent analysis disperses too. He meets Joshua's gaze, unaware he'd been watching the myrmidon this whole time. Joshua gives a rogue-ish grin. "Hopefully not just at me, I hope." Artur laughs quietly to mask how flustered he gets. There's a warmth in the corners of his face as he replies, his eyes rapidly searching for someone else to pin the target on.
"Moreso Lady Eirika coming this way, but you were still in my line of sight. So, you could argue that yes, I was... partially looking at you."
"Alright, if you say so." Joshua shrugs, bits of his red hair tumble from his shoulders to join the rest laying against his back. Artur isn't sure why he's focused on such a minute detail, but he smiles it away. Joshua mirrors the gesture, though to Artur it's always looked just shy of hiding some larger secret. Or there are unfinished thoughts and words lingering behind those playful grins, yerning to spill forth from those lips and touch whoever's heart that hears them. Ah, he's staring again, Artur catches himself this time. He switches his gaze back to Eirika, thank goodness she's made it over.
"You two nearly ready? We're heading out soon," she reports with head high. Artur nods several times while Joshua only flashes his smile in the princess' direction. "You wanna make a bet who'll show up first? Ten gold I beat Curly-Q!" he snickers, Artur takes this opportunity to turn away. He'd not be caught staring a third time, he'd already run the risk far too close. Besides, Eirika is right, they had more Stones to collect and shouldn't be dawdling with idle talk and thoughts of places far away from where they were right now.
"Bet or no bet, I will be there, Lady Eirika. I can promise you that."
Leaving Joshua and her to chat a little longer -- Artur, no doubt, thinks in the end he only plans to score a flirtatious remark -- the monk retires to his tent. There were still things to pack and tomes to bring along, Light magic especially is a rare commodity among Renais, nowhere near as plentiful as Anima tomes. Shuffling along his cot he loosens the collar of his robes, letting himself breathe. A break from Joshua on his brain would do him good, he's sure of it. That and, as the Blessed Dragon would say, "Fill not your mind with impure thoughts of others, for those turn into dangerous actions if left unchecked".
They weren't impure in the slightest, Artur challenged, but it's better to have his mind be free of distractions than have it tinker back to a past that Joshua never wished to speak of. It'd bring up sour memories, and Artur didn't want to see his face go dark or for him to lose his carefree smile. Those things made him Joshua, silly coin flips and all, he couldn't risk letting such things disappear only for a second. Drat, he's distracted again, if that bet was made then he'd surely lose it if he lingered any longer. Hurriedly he ties his spare robes and extra Flash tome into a sack, latching the smaller Light tome to the book carrier at his side, underneath the robes at his leg. A glance back out the tent flap to the field ahead, Joshua and Eirika are both gone.
"Have I lost...?" he murmurs to himself, sack thrown over one shoulder as he brushes past the flaps back outside. "Nope!" comes a laugh from Joshua, he whirlwinds on by and gives a playful tap to the back of the monk's head. Artur's face flares pink, largely from not realizing the other had gotten so close without so much as a sound. Joshua pauses, his knapsack has a strap across his chest. "We're tied, actually! Race you to Seth!"
Normally, Artur would decline childish games like racing, not that he's too prideful to participate in them. He simply doesn't find himself the fastest on foot, Lute's beaten him 'hundreds' of times --her words, not his-- and any confidence that would come from losing so many races in childhood certainly took a nose dive. Yet this time, even with such a nonsensical payout as ten gold, he allows himself a little taste of pride. Afterwards, he promises, he'd say an extra long prayer for indulging.
"Then allow me to break this tie!" Artur calls back and runs after the redhead, stretching his legs as long as possible to cover the most ground. It strains him, he pants and sweat collects under even his breezy robes, his sack of belongings bounces painfully against his shoulder, but he remains undeterred. Joshua's a flash of red and black, always a foot or two ahead of him even as the gathering of Eirika's army comes into view. There's no slowing this footrace, Artur's determined to win, tents flash by as tiny white streaks. It's not for the money, he tells himself, not at all. Even if it's selfish or it goes against the Blessed Dragon's teachings, he wants nothing more than to stay with Joshua. So they can indulge in races, nonsense bets, laugh and talk under the stars. There's so much more he wants to ask about him, about his life in Jehanna or before he found his way to Serafew, maybe with the right guidance he can become the man's Shepard. Yes, perhaps even--
"I WIN!" Again Joshua's voice, trembling with excitement, blows through all of Artur's thoughts like cannon fire. His vision clears as he slows to a halt, panting heavily and resting a hand upon Seth's horse. There's a snort as the animal moves away, unfriendly to anyone but her rider. Artur teeters to one side, the blood's rushing back to his head, he should've called it quits earlier if he'd known his body remained this out of shape. Yet before his body hits the ground, his shoulders are snatched up. Glancing over his shoulder is the sweat dripping Joshua, his smile from ear to ear. Artur feels his heart leap out of his ribcage.
"... Sorry. I don't know if I gave you a... very fun race after all," he laughs, breathless as Joshua effortlessly slides an arm underneath both of his shoulders. They're close, close enough that Artur can feel his breath on his hair, somehow cool despite the panting. Their items are placed in a cart that Forde plans to pull, the cavalier gives the two a wide grin and thumbs up. Artur doesn't have time to analyze that gesture, his head's too busy spinning, though Joshua's shoulder makes an excellent place to rest. The pair walk for a little while together as the army gets into gear, eventually Joshua sets the exhausted monk down in a separate cart, walking along after him.
"Don't apologize, Curly-Q. You put up a good fight for a monk," Joshua says, Artur mumbles another apology. "Seriously, you don't need to. Tell you what, even though I won we don't have to honor the bet. Even Eirika seemed worried for you, she said you'd faint before you crossed the finish line. But you didn't, though! That's something to be proud of."
Artur sighs, wiping sweat from the back of his neck and leaving the top collar button undone. He wishes Lady Eirika had just a little more faith in his physical capabilities, though he didn't necessarily blame her for thinking so. Artur knows he's frail, he's always been, but he's tried to take strides to be a little better. Baby steps, he tells himself, baby steps are important. "... Was it fun, at least?" Artur hears how scratchy his voice sounds and winces, swallowing to wet his throat. That's a definite improvement. "Fun for you?"
"Yeah, it was!" Joshua's smile is so bright it's nearly blinding. Artur's in shock, he'd put up such a bad performance! He's certainly only saying that since he won and is still on that adrenaline rush. "You really surprised me, Artur. I'd never taken you for the competitive type. I'm glad there's a whole new side of you to learn about! Did you race a lot as a kid?"
Artur, on instinct, gives himself time to select his words. A measured response, simple but effective, is what he figures is necessary. He'd talk of the past races with Lute, through his village's dirt paths and over the thick bushes before the forest. How he'd lost countless times, just like he lost today, it's nothing special really. Then they'd laugh and Joshua, Artur figures, would leave him to rest and regain his strength. It's how he's always lived his life, behind bars of silence and structured sentences, too afraid to let the words flow forth. He's afraid of missteps, of misspeaking, of saying something he can't take back. But now, whether Joshua knows it or not, he's handed Artur the key.
Instead of simply responding, he lets himself speak.
"I... did, actually. Only a handful of times and always with Lute. Like you saw today, I'm not much of a runner, she always beat me. We'd race through our village and into the forest, but not much farther than the thicker bushes. Mother said it got thorny and dangerous past there. But I enjoyed it back then, I could certainly keep up with her much better. You, well... you saw the result. I'm not as fast as I once was, but thank you for giving me the opportunity to relive a bit of that childish glee."
Joshua listens, hopping into the cart next to Artur when its wheels are slow. It's a little intimidating to have those eyes focused solely on him, but it's a feeling Artur thinks he could get used to very easily. Unprompted, he continues, relaying to Joshua the time he knew becoming a man of the cloth is something he wished for more than anything else. How a passing monk through his village spends a whole afternoon with him just looking for a lost toy, and how much that man's kindness meant to him. His voice doesn't shake, he simply lets it flow, and Joshua's absolutely enraptured.
The pair continue to talk, swapping stories back and forth. Artur never mentions the thoughts he had earlier, the 'impure' ones at least, neither does he ask about Jehanna. For now he's perfectly comfortable getting to know Joshua the myrmidon they picked up in Serafew rather than Joshua, former Prince of Jehanna. Too much pain is buried inside the man, Artur figures if he springs a leak, then all of Joshua himself will burst out and float away. They're stepping stones, Artur tells himself, a gentle path to lead himself on before tackling the boulders in his way. Though, it's good to know that now, Joshua's firmly at his side to do so. Whatever else he feels, this humming warmth in his chest when Joshua smiles his way or says his name, that doesn't need to be pushed away.
In fact, Artur smiles to himself, it's something he'll say with his own words.
