Author's note: two old drabbles crossposted from Ao3. One of them is NesKreia, one of my fave ships, and one of them is MadNes, the worst shit ever. I am incapable of writing cute shit that does not hurt anyone
(also, for the Re:Noblesse crowd: before you wonder, no, NesKreia isn't planned unless popular demand dictates otherwise)
So Much Cuter (Maduke x Ignes)
His love was not sweet and tender. She was hardly elegant, feisty and downright tomboyish at times. She was a storm of fire and salt water burning the wounds she cleaved into his chest. Yet this fire could be contained – and so he found himself coming back for more, always more. He could cut her skin open and wear it to keep himself warm. He could, now that he had her under his thumb. He was almost excited, to return to the warmth of her skin and the softness of her bosom.
The days of a Lord were too long – yet it was not over. The scent of alcohol met him the moment he opened the door to his private quarters. Someone had fun without him, clearly.
"Hello, LoOord." Ignes had made herself comfortable on the loveseat in the corner, the empty bottle of port on the side table next to it told him all he needed to know.
"Had fun?", he inquired idly as he unbuttoned his coat.
"No, LoOoOord." She giggled, amused by the way she bastardized this respectful address. Rolling his eyes, he slipped out of his boots. A noble who got drunk was unusual enough. He vaguely remembered Lagus mentioning them being capable of allowing intoxication. Lucky bastards. Ignes did not move when he came closer and so he merely pushed her up into a sitting position so he could sit as well. Flaccid like a lifeless doll, she sank back against him and he caught her in his arms. The slight redness on her cheeks was the most endearing thing he'd seen all week. Like a beautiful porcelain doll with painted cheeks and eyes that would never cry.
"I had nothing else to do," she complained, not resisting his touch as his fingertips ran along her arm.
"Well, had you not been such a … Well. If you behave, you can work on the Titan Project again."
Ignes did not reply, falling silent. Suspicion still lingered – until that was cleared, he could not have her working on anything of importance. Oh, no, he let this awful girl play with his heart instead, apparently. Not the best idea, but it was too late for that.
Idly, Ignes' fingertips ran over the back of his hand that rested on her stomach. The soft touch made him feel like dying.
"Why are you drunk, anyway?", he asked idly and Ignes shifted and twisted until she had managed to turn around, half on top of him now.
"Because it feels better that way."
He placed his hands on her waist and wanted to make a snide remark, or at least think badly of her – but looking into those crimson eyes, empty and warm, and feeling the alcohol in her breath made him realize: if he could, he would be just as drunk. Oh, he could sink into whatever realm of calm bliss Ignes had disappeared into. Alas... Their bodies regenerated too fast to actually let intoxication build up in their systems. At least someone here was having fun.
"Is that so?", he asked idly and merely picked her up. Ignes squeaked softly when she was lifted up from the couch and placed her arm around his shoulder for support and merely gave a little hum.
Without much gentleness, he dropped her on the bed and watched her sprawl out as he unbuttoned his shirt. He might as well seize the opportunity, now that he had her in this state before him. She was beautiful, calm like that, eyes empty. Where was her mind? Where was her soul? He wondered, but this worked for him. For now. She was beautiful when she cried, but so much cuter when she laughed, and so much better when she did not scream. It felt so much better when her body did not tense up under each touch, when she remained so pliable under his hands. Like wax he could mold. He could carve himself a little grave in her chest, where her heart was supposed to be.
She did not cry, did not fight, but it made him feel like crying, instead. These feelings were poison in his veins – what brought her joy brought him misery. What made her feel numb made him feel pain just more sharply. What made her dead made him want to die as well.
But she was so much cuter when she did not suffer.
Aurora Boraelis ( Ignes x Raskreia )
The most majestic, beautiful places in this world were those that were not tainted by human influence yet. Away from noise and dirt, away from the chaos and the mess they always brought as inevitable as the seasons. Here, at the southern pole of the Earth, they were alone with no other soul within leagues. Blissful silence, blessed solitude for two. Though humans may try to bring something of beauty and worth into this world, they could never fashion something more beautiful than the sight before her. Raskreia, Lord of Nobles, dignity incarnate, sat in the snow in perfectly quaint ease. Human sculptors must despair, for their marble could never match the regal daintiness of her porcelain features, the edge of her cheekbone and the curve of her brow. Angels must weep for their golden halos did not adorn them as much as her braid adorned her head like a black crown of supreme humility. The stars themselves could never shine as bright as the light of her eyes, alert, awake.
She should be ashamed, for she, a pitiful creature of sin and hate, dared to look upon the features of the Lord, fairest and chiefest of them all. Ignes knew that she should not have the right to sit here with Raskreia, all alone, away from the whole world. To be tolerated... to be allowed not only to look at her, but to reach out and... Slowly, she placed her hand over Raskreia's. A faint warmth amid the realm of snow and ice all around them. As though she sun had risen amid the weeklong polar night, a faint smile graced the Lord's face and Ignes might as well die, if only it meant that Raskreia's smile would be the last thing she'd see before fading into eternity. This world was empty, so awfully empty, and yet, this smile, this small smile alone was enough to make her come alive once more.
Ignes exhaled slowly and her warm breath turned into steam at once, cooled down by the freezing temperatures. The cold was numbing, yet her heart was on fire and warmed her from the inside, shielded her from the frost around them.
Slowly, Raskreia shifted to kneel in the snow, body turned towards her, and with an expression Ignes failed to read, she placed a hand against her cold cheek and Ignes could swear that the gentle touch would have made her blush in warmer climates. With a wistful sigh, she leaned against the palm of Raskreia's hand and lowered her gaze respectfully.
"I know you don't want me to say these things," she mumbled and reached out to pull Raskreia into a hug. Her attempt was met without opposition. Slowly, Raskreia's head sank against her chest and came to rest right atop her heart. "... but I love you. I love you. You don't have to love me back." Her words were but a feeble whisper in the arctic winds. "... You can have my heart regardless. I give it to you freely. There is no one else I would rather give it to."
This sentiment made her want to cry – so hopeless and hopeful at the same time. Oh cruel heart of hers that must desire the one she deserved the least! A just punishment for someone who deserved no redemption. That wasn't what she wanted, though. No forgiveness, no redemption, no salvation. Just indulgence. A few minutes of joy, a few moments of hope, a tender touch, a kind caress. That's all she asked for, so much, and yet so little.
Raskreia leaned forwards – and pushed her back into the snow. Without resistance, Ignes sank back, settled in the deep snow with her arms still around Raskreia's back, fingers entangled in soft raven hair. No one but the Lord and the stars had heard her heartfelt confession. Ignes could not tell for how long they lied there, on top of each other. Raskreia's head still rested on Ignes' chest and after a while she'd placed her hand against the back of her head affectionately. Oh stars, do you see us? My heart soars as high as you. Overwhelmed by a bittersweet sadness, a deliciously overwhelming affection, Ignes cried. For the first time in ages, she allowed herself to cry. In this winter of cold isolation, she had felt nothing – and now her spring had come, and her frozen pain melted into tears of aching relief and froze to her cheeks.
As though her heart had stirred the skies, colorful lights danced above them, green and orange, with the slow majesty of eternity. A celestial adagio only for them to see. No moment ever had felt more perfect than this one. She'd grab it with both of her hands and swallow it whole to keep it from passing and ending.
"... I won't reject your feelings," Raskreia finally said softly and shifted, propped herself up on her forearms above the other noble. Gently, the Lord pressed a kiss against Ignes' cold, tear-stained cheeks before, eventually, leaning in for a kiss. Their mouths met with great, delicate tenderness, lacking the usual flame of passion. This cold stifled the spark of desire – but it allowed a more delicate flower to take roots instead.
Affection.