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story_lotteryFIC: "Yami no Matsuei"/"Kushiel's Legacy" -- “What P
Apr. 7th, 2010 12:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matrixrefugeeI have to admit, this is one of my favorite fics that I've recently put together, and I'm glad I used the Write or Die widget to give myself the incentive to type it.
Title: “What Price Beauty?”
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
matrixrefugee
Fandom: Crossover: “Yami no Matsuei” (aka Descendants of Darkness)/”Kushiel’s Legacy”
Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei, aka Descendants of Darkness, it’s characters, concepts and other indicia, which are the intellectual property of Yoko Matsushita, Hiroko Tokita, Manga Entertainment, Viz Media, Hakusensha, Central Park Media, et al. I do not own "Kushiel's Legacy”, its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of Jacqueline Carey, Grand Central Publishing, et al
Pairing/Characters: The Steward, the Trader, possible analogues of two main male characters
Prompt: 3. 16 - a souk
Words: 1,066
Rating: PG-13 (thematic elements, including slave trading and sensual content, also brief language)
Summary: In an alternate version of the Book World, the Steward purchases the freedom of a pair of young men from a faraway land…
Author’s Note: The idea for this fic came about from a conversation among thecarpe_ho_ras crowd about sorting one’s RP characters. I offered the Houses of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers as a possibility. Since I’m RP’ing both Tsuzuki and Muraki (and more or less managed to keep them apart for a month now), I couldn’t resist sorting these two gents from the Far East, which got me to thinking of writing a crackfic… and then I ran across the series of crossovers written by lynndyre. Though the plot and execution are all my own, I’ll admit, I borrowed the idea of setting all this in an alternate version of the book-verse of Vol 5 of the manga from them (and I think the book-verse arc has to be my favorite, after the Kyoto arc): It would not surprise me if Hakushaku has a Jacqueline Carey-esque model of the self-writing novel (I’ve even joked that he’s responsible for some of the very strange YnM fics I’ve run across).
Khebbel-im-Akkad both delighted and appalled the Steward: the variety at the souk seemed matched only by its noise as the vendors clamored, calling out their wares, vying with the calls of wandering hucksters, the chatter of buyers and sellers haggling and the skirl of the flute players and snake charmers. The aromas of spices and perfumes in one row of booths mingled with the warm scents from cook shops and food vendors and the reek from the cattle market. He passed by all of them, heading for one section of the market, which his master had specifically ordered him to attend to.
The Steward hated slave markets with a passion greater even than most D'Angelines harbored, but the Lord of the Manor owed a debt to the Dowayne of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers and had ordered him to seek out and buy the bonds of two young men, the most beautiful he could find. On his first glance through the rows of slaves shackled to the blocks, under the burning sun, he spied two bare-chested young men whose beauty caught his eye immediately. The younger had bistre hair, his eyes the same color as new blossoming violets kissed with morning dew which peered around him nervously; the other, somewhat older, had skin and hair as pale as moonlight on the snow, his silvery eyes looked just as cold, his lean form held down with an extra set of chains.
"Whence come these youths?" the Steward asked the Trader, a sharp-faced young man of Tzingani stock. The Steward held out his open hand, palm up toward the pair whom he could not help admiring.
The Trader smiled with shrewd delight. "Ah, this pair hails from the land of Nihon, a necklace of green islands on the coast of Ch'in, both of them from good families. The elder one already speaks some D'Angeline, but be wary: he is as vicious as he is beautiful. He strangled one of the merchants when his chains were rubbing his ankles. That is why we had to bind him doubly."
"And the pretty faced one with the eyes like violets?" the Steward asked.
"His virgin night will bring you a good price: he has a gentle, retiring disposition, though he eats more than his share and you have to whip him to awaken in the morning; both would make excellent servants of your whore-goddess," the Trader said.
The Steward ignored the Trader's ignorant slur. "They are somewhat past the age when we would start their training as adepts and servants of Namaah, but their beauty is exquisite and they both have the air of being quick learners."
"Would you not want to feel them down and make sure they are both sound before you buy them?" the Trader asked, with a grin of suggestion and a hint of a sneer as he pulled back his upper lip, showing sharp teeth in his mouth.
The Steward returned this jab with a polite smirk. "One does that when one is at a horse fair, but today I am seeking to purchase the bonds of two young men," he replied with just the faintest hint of withering coolness in his tone. But he had to admit to himself that the violet eyed youth had a fresh beauty that made him want to reach out and caress the young slave's smooth cheeks and run his fingers along the lines of his muscled torso. The youth must have sensed him gazing on him in admiration, because he dropped his own twilight-hued gaze modestly, as if the violets had shrunk under their leaves to avoid the threat of rain. This only added to his charm and the Steward considered vying for the youth's virgin night when it came to that, no matter the cost; he had a sense it would be worth every coin he spent on him and he had a goodly sum set aside for a time like that.
But he felt the gaze of the pale man on him, piercing like steel. Clearly the pale youth did not want the Steward to gaze too long at his companion and he sensed the youth's jealousy: perhaps because he desired the violet-eyed youth for himself and would brook no rivals, perhaps because he wanted to be gazed on instead. The Steward turned to him, meeting that cold gaze and challenging it, his own sapphire blue eyes every bit as hard in a different way. The pale youth gathered himself as if ready to attack, like a cat challenging another, but the chains which clanked at this movement held him down and he seemed well aware of his state, though it did not affect his spirit. The violet eyed youth would likely make an ideal adept for Orchis or Heliotrope, with that gentle, sweet nature of his, but the pale one, with his cold cruelty, seemed clearly destined for House Mandrake.
"None of that, you pale demon," the Trader snapped, flicking a whip over the heads of the youths. The violet eyed one flinched, emitting a high pitched yelp and nearly fell off the block; the pale one merely regarded the Trader with a cold smirk.
"I shall buy the freedom of both, then," the Steward said, feeling under his cloak for the purse which his master had given to him. "They seem like a matched pair and separating them would cause them hardship. Their looks even contrast each other, as the moonlight does the daylight."
"Are you certain that you want the both of them? The one with the eyes like amethysts would make a pretty companion for anyone, young or old, but you saw how the pale one nearly struck you."
"I would rather have a servant with too much spirit than one with a broken soul," the Steward replied, holding up the purse before the Trader and jangling its contents. "There's a hundred gold pieces in this purse and they are yours if you unbind these young men and let me take them with me back to the Terre D' Ange."
"As long as you know just what you are buying, sirrah," the Trader said, and taking a key from his belt, he proceeded to unlock the shackles which bound both of the youths. The cold-eyed one stood up, rubbing his wrists and murmuring a word of gratitude, but the violet-eyed one nearly fell off the block again, kneeling at the Steward's feet and grasping his hands, chattering a streak of clipped syllables, clearly grateful for his freedom. For a moment, the Steward wondered if he should try to find some way to keep the youth for himself, but the pale-eyed one gave him a cold look as if to say, "You are not the only one who wants him..."
Title: “What Price Beauty?”
Author:
matrixrefugeeFandom: Crossover: “Yami no Matsuei” (aka Descendants of Darkness)/”Kushiel’s Legacy”
Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei, aka Descendants of Darkness, it’s characters, concepts and other indicia, which are the intellectual property of Yoko Matsushita, Hiroko Tokita, Manga Entertainment, Viz Media, Hakusensha, Central Park Media, et al. I do not own "Kushiel's Legacy”, its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of Jacqueline Carey, Grand Central Publishing, et al
Pairing/Characters: The Steward, the Trader, possible analogues of two main male characters
Prompt: 3. 16 - a souk
Words: 1,066
Rating: PG-13 (thematic elements, including slave trading and sensual content, also brief language)
Summary: In an alternate version of the Book World, the Steward purchases the freedom of a pair of young men from a faraway land…
Author’s Note: The idea for this fic came about from a conversation among the
carpe_ho_ras crowd about sorting one’s RP characters. I offered the Houses of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers as a possibility. Since I’m RP’ing both Tsuzuki and Muraki (and more or less managed to keep them apart for a month now), I couldn’t resist sorting these two gents from the Far East, which got me to thinking of writing a crackfic… and then I ran across the series of crossovers written by lynndyre. Though the plot and execution are all my own, I’ll admit, I borrowed the idea of setting all this in an alternate version of the book-verse of Vol 5 of the manga from them (and I think the book-verse arc has to be my favorite, after the Kyoto arc): It would not surprise me if Hakushaku has a Jacqueline Carey-esque model of the self-writing novel (I’ve even joked that he’s responsible for some of the very strange YnM fics I’ve run across).Khebbel-im-Akkad both delighted and appalled the Steward: the variety at the souk seemed matched only by its noise as the vendors clamored, calling out their wares, vying with the calls of wandering hucksters, the chatter of buyers and sellers haggling and the skirl of the flute players and snake charmers. The aromas of spices and perfumes in one row of booths mingled with the warm scents from cook shops and food vendors and the reek from the cattle market. He passed by all of them, heading for one section of the market, which his master had specifically ordered him to attend to.
The Steward hated slave markets with a passion greater even than most D'Angelines harbored, but the Lord of the Manor owed a debt to the Dowayne of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers and had ordered him to seek out and buy the bonds of two young men, the most beautiful he could find. On his first glance through the rows of slaves shackled to the blocks, under the burning sun, he spied two bare-chested young men whose beauty caught his eye immediately. The younger had bistre hair, his eyes the same color as new blossoming violets kissed with morning dew which peered around him nervously; the other, somewhat older, had skin and hair as pale as moonlight on the snow, his silvery eyes looked just as cold, his lean form held down with an extra set of chains.
"Whence come these youths?" the Steward asked the Trader, a sharp-faced young man of Tzingani stock. The Steward held out his open hand, palm up toward the pair whom he could not help admiring.
The Trader smiled with shrewd delight. "Ah, this pair hails from the land of Nihon, a necklace of green islands on the coast of Ch'in, both of them from good families. The elder one already speaks some D'Angeline, but be wary: he is as vicious as he is beautiful. He strangled one of the merchants when his chains were rubbing his ankles. That is why we had to bind him doubly."
"And the pretty faced one with the eyes like violets?" the Steward asked.
"His virgin night will bring you a good price: he has a gentle, retiring disposition, though he eats more than his share and you have to whip him to awaken in the morning; both would make excellent servants of your whore-goddess," the Trader said.
The Steward ignored the Trader's ignorant slur. "They are somewhat past the age when we would start their training as adepts and servants of Namaah, but their beauty is exquisite and they both have the air of being quick learners."
"Would you not want to feel them down and make sure they are both sound before you buy them?" the Trader asked, with a grin of suggestion and a hint of a sneer as he pulled back his upper lip, showing sharp teeth in his mouth.
The Steward returned this jab with a polite smirk. "One does that when one is at a horse fair, but today I am seeking to purchase the bonds of two young men," he replied with just the faintest hint of withering coolness in his tone. But he had to admit to himself that the violet eyed youth had a fresh beauty that made him want to reach out and caress the young slave's smooth cheeks and run his fingers along the lines of his muscled torso. The youth must have sensed him gazing on him in admiration, because he dropped his own twilight-hued gaze modestly, as if the violets had shrunk under their leaves to avoid the threat of rain. This only added to his charm and the Steward considered vying for the youth's virgin night when it came to that, no matter the cost; he had a sense it would be worth every coin he spent on him and he had a goodly sum set aside for a time like that.
But he felt the gaze of the pale man on him, piercing like steel. Clearly the pale youth did not want the Steward to gaze too long at his companion and he sensed the youth's jealousy: perhaps because he desired the violet-eyed youth for himself and would brook no rivals, perhaps because he wanted to be gazed on instead. The Steward turned to him, meeting that cold gaze and challenging it, his own sapphire blue eyes every bit as hard in a different way. The pale youth gathered himself as if ready to attack, like a cat challenging another, but the chains which clanked at this movement held him down and he seemed well aware of his state, though it did not affect his spirit. The violet eyed youth would likely make an ideal adept for Orchis or Heliotrope, with that gentle, sweet nature of his, but the pale one, with his cold cruelty, seemed clearly destined for House Mandrake.
"None of that, you pale demon," the Trader snapped, flicking a whip over the heads of the youths. The violet eyed one flinched, emitting a high pitched yelp and nearly fell off the block; the pale one merely regarded the Trader with a cold smirk.
"I shall buy the freedom of both, then," the Steward said, feeling under his cloak for the purse which his master had given to him. "They seem like a matched pair and separating them would cause them hardship. Their looks even contrast each other, as the moonlight does the daylight."
"Are you certain that you want the both of them? The one with the eyes like amethysts would make a pretty companion for anyone, young or old, but you saw how the pale one nearly struck you."
"I would rather have a servant with too much spirit than one with a broken soul," the Steward replied, holding up the purse before the Trader and jangling its contents. "There's a hundred gold pieces in this purse and they are yours if you unbind these young men and let me take them with me back to the Terre D' Ange."
"As long as you know just what you are buying, sirrah," the Trader said, and taking a key from his belt, he proceeded to unlock the shackles which bound both of the youths. The cold-eyed one stood up, rubbing his wrists and murmuring a word of gratitude, but the violet-eyed one nearly fell off the block again, kneeling at the Steward's feet and grasping his hands, chattering a streak of clipped syllables, clearly grateful for his freedom. For a moment, the Steward wondered if he should try to find some way to keep the youth for himself, but the pale-eyed one gave him a cold look as if to say, "You are not the only one who wants him..."
