They Stumble that Run Fast - Tales of Graces - richass - [ for @heirachnid ]
rating: teen for blood and canon typical violence
Characters: Richard, Asbel, Sophie
Richard ran lightly for all that his hand was pressed to a bleeding cut in his side. The tunnels under the castle were paved unevenly, requiring all of his attention to traverse without tripping. His breath rasped in his throat, tasting of metal. Combined with the drumming of his heart in his ears, he couldn’t tell if anyone was pursuing him. He didn’t think so- the only knight who had caught sight of him hadn’t had a chance to warn anyone.
He paused next to the last downward staircase into the catacombs, trying to get some breath back into his lungs. Each breath he took sent a fresh wave of agony up his wounded side, but air was a necessity, not a luxury. Gingerly, he tried moving his fingers from the cut, only to hiss involuntarily as it opened afresh. He wasn’t in any shape to try and tackle monsters right now, but he hadn’t any choice- this was the only way out of the castle that wouldn’t end in his death.
A crawling dread infiltrated his heart. He didn’t want to go back into the catacombs, which had featured prominently in his nightmares since he was twelve. A sullen presence in the back of his head stirred at the memories, at the pain, but Richard had too many other worries to concern himself with Lambda.
His father was dead. Richard leaned against the wall, his free hand clenching into an impotent fist. Betrayed. Enough of his guardian knights had turned to Cedric’s cause that they had been able to overpower any remaining loyalists and take his life. If Richard hadn’t been so wary, so careful of even his guards after Bryce’s treachery, he would be just as dead. As it was, only the confusion of the attack had allowed him to escape. Once things settled down enough to separate out the bodies, they would realize that the prince wasn’t among the dead and the hunt would be on. He needed to get away now, put as much distance between himself and Barona as possible.
Easier said than done. The wound in his side wouldn’t stop bleeding, leaving him lightheaded and dizzy. And cold with fear, too- would this finally be the injury that Lambda couldn’t heal? He’d become depressingly well acquainted with Lambda’s ability to burn poison out of his veins in the past seven years, and had had his bones mended with a speed that mystified the royal physicians, but bloodloss was new.
And he’d delayed too long already. Richard unsheathed his rapier gingerly, trying not to hurt his side anymore than it already was, and stepped into his nightmares.
~
Richard was twelve, and he was dying. He knew it, an instinct that grew stronger with each time his heart skipped a beat, slicing white-hot pain through his body. His limbs were shaky and numb- he’d lost his blade somewhere, if he’d even had it to begin with. He wanted to curl up in a corner and weep.
Each step kicked up dust, leaving a ragged trail of footprints behind him. He had to find Asbel. There was no way he was going to make it back on his own, not in this condition. His only hope was to find Asbel. Asbel would help him, would be able to get him out of this awful place. He had to hold onto that thought- Asbel had rescued him once before when he’d thought it was impossible. Surely he could do it again.
He could hear something up ahead. Dimly, Richard recalled that there was an altar-like structure here. It had given him the creeps the few times he had snuck down here before. He stumbled into the larger room, then tripped over a chunk of stone. He tasted blood as he hit the floor, welling up from a bitten lip, too weak even to cry out.
Dimly, he thought he could hear Asbel’s bright voice. The last of his strength ran out of him at the sound. If Asbel was here, he didn’t have to worry. Everything would be okay…
~
Richard shook away the recollection. Understandable that his mind was going to the last time he’d been down here, he though, looking at the strange device laid into the far wall. Not for the first time, he wondered what it was for, and why it resembled the form Lambda had taken that first, fraught meeting. He was alive because of Lambda, because that strange creature had needed his help to survive. He hadn’t regretted their hasty bargain- it had saved his life too many times in the past seven years. Hopefully, it would even save his life now- though he was still bleeding and he was more lightheaded than ever.
But Asbel wasn’t going to rescue him this time, no matter how much Richard’s heart hoped for it. Asbel was an apprentice knight- even though he would never harm Richard, because he would never harm Richard, Cedric and his accomplices would keep him far away from the prince until they had accomplished their murderous end. Once Cedric was sure that no blame would rest on him, that was when he would step forward with soothing words about his poor brother and nephew, a report that of their assassins being killed too late to save the unfortunate royal family, how reluctant he was to accept the burden of the crown. Lies on top of lies. And Asbel would attend his funeral, never knowing that the king he now served was the one who had condemned his childhood friend to death.
The thought of it, of the person who had saved him from his uncle’s first assassination attempt kneeling before his killer all unknowing, stole Richard’s breath with rage. What gave Cedric the right to murder his brother, Richard’s father, and put himself on the throne? If Richard lived through this, Cedric would regret it. He’d make sure of it.
If being the operative word here, Richard thought wryly. His glove was soaked through with blood. Fate had been kind in that he hadn’t encountered any monsters despite the fact he smelled entirely too edible, but there were far too many obstacles in his path to start planning for Cedric. Richard noted the broken bridge to his left, and paused with indecision and weakness.
He could go straight from here- it would take him along the path he knew, ending in the Royal Sanctuary. Or he could try the sepulcher to his right, which would take him outside Barona entirely, to one of the seaside caves. Sense told him that the right-hand path was the one he should take, but Richard rather doubted his ability to move the stone in his state.
He swayed absently, another fit of dizziness coming over him and forcing him to his knees. He clamped his hand instinctively over his side at the ugly flash of pain, biting back a cry as the impact and the tightening of his fingers on the wound combined to send another hot rush of blood soaking into his glove.
“Richard!” a hauntingly familiar voice said, a hand gripping his shoulder to steady him. “Richard, hold on!”
Asbel, he thought giddily. I’ve lost so much blood I’m hallucinating. At least it’s a good dream for once. He turned his head cautiously, not wanting the apparition to leave him alone. “You’re-” here, he wanted to say, I’m so glad to see you.
“It’s me,” the phantom continued, warm hand still present on his shoulder. A young man with unreally blue eyes and deep auburn hair looked at him, brows knit with concern. “Asbel Lhant.” The solidity of his support slowly penetrated Richard’s fogged mind.
“Asbel? Is that really you?” The hand left his shoulder, to his disappointment, but his head was clearing. “Well, I must say I certainly didn’t expect to find you here.” He was so grateful. He hadn’t even dared to hope, but Asbel had showed up to save him once again.
“I don’t understand. This is crazy! I heard that you were supposed to be dead!” Asbel’s voice was raw with concern, heady to his ears.
“You heard that…I was dead?” Richard managed. Of course Cedric would put it about that he was dead. It was the only way he could give himself legitimacy.
Asbel made a sound in the back of his throat. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Can you stand?” He moved closer, pulling the arm that wasn’t occupied holding his wound about his shoulders to take Richard’s weight. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, lifting Richard to his feet. He smelt of sweat and metal polish and rosemary, Richard thought, allowing his head to press against a strong shoulder.
“Thank you…Asbel,” he said, wishing that mere words could convey all of the emotions in his heart, too bright and heady to bear.
“So you still live, Your Highness.” A splash of fear crawled down his spine. Asbel shifted immediately to put himself between Richard and danger, facing the two knights that had appeared from around the corner. They must have been dispatched to search the catacombs when it became obvious that Richard hadn’t been killed like they’d planned.
“More of Cedric’s men.” Richard muttered. Asbel was a strong presence in front of him, his hand in front of Richard’s chest as if to shield him. Richard’s hand fell to his rapier, knowing that he couldn’t be of help but ready to go down fighting nonetheless. A startlingly violet head moved into his peripheral vision, as familiar as Asbel’s deep auburn and just as unexpected.
“I won’t let you!” Asbel snarled, his stance ready and fierce. Then he lunged, faster than Richard had thought possible, sword singing from its sheathe. The swift motion caught the knights as much by surprise as it had Richard- in a moment one of them toppled to the ground, his throat cleanly opened by the sharp blade.
The violet headed girl was only a few steps behind Asbel’s charge, catching the other knight’s wild swing on her armored forearm and pushing forward to smash a gauntlet into his sternum. Even his chainmail couldn’t soak the force- he staggered backward to meet Asbel’s blade coming the other way, sliding easily beneath his arm and into his ribcage. The younger swordsman pulled his blade free with the same economy of motion, letting the knight topple to the ground with his partner.
His eyes swept the area, to assure that no opponents remained as he shook the blood off of his blade with a flick of the wrist and resheathed it. Then he was focused back on Richard, his eyes going to the wound in his side.
“You’re hurt,” he said urgently, striding over to catch Richard’s forearms. Beautiful, Richard couldn’t help thinking, staring into his blue eyes. His rescuer was motioning the girl forward, her hands beginning to glow with the spark of a healing arte, but Richard had eyes only for Asbel.
I wrote a small fic for Heirachnid (Neigh8ors ?), but I've seen a lot more Scourge Sister art. So I'm actually kind of on the fence...
...but honestly, I'd have to go with Heirachnid. I don't think that Vriska and Equius' mentalities are healthy for one another (Vriska subjugating Equius to abuse, Equius instilling highblood supremacy in an already egotistical cerulean troll), but in my mind, it's better than Terezi slowly beginning to loathe Vriska for her "vile misdeeds". Canonically speaking.
Fandomwise, probably Scourge Sisters. Hah. I'm so indecisive.
