Author's Note: This was written simply to get me back into the swing of writing fanfiction. From this point onward, I think I'll be taking open requests… as far as Tales of Symphonia/Tales of the Abyss go, at least. I hope you enjoy this senseless little writing~
No spoilers for the game; takes place pre-game, in fact.
Swear
Guy Cecil: loyal servant to the Fabre household, cunning swordsman and protector, and, most importantly, the loyal pet to his majesty's nephew: Luke.
Frayed blonde hair poured down over sapphire eyes. A cheerful smile lit upon thin, pink lips, creased carefully as to reveal only his friendly disposition. Sun-kissed skin beaded with fine, crystalline droplets of water as Guy stepped through the stream beneath the towering fountain: a monument to the very manor he served. He wore only a thin, cotton shirt, torn edges and shredded sides clinging tightly to his body in some places, yet, flowing in the breeze at others. He adorned simple, tan shorts, a black belt accentuating the servant's abnormally thin waist.
The evidence of years of training was particularly difficult to miss; finely-toned muscles peaked out from beneath the disheveled clothing wherever the opportunity was provided. Like a racehorse, jittery on the final day of the crown, the man's muscles convulsed, rippling beneath taut skin which shielded his strength quite ineffectively. He stepped out from beneath the shower of transparent liquid, only to lean against the fountain's edge, and extend his hand to catch a drink of the freely flowing droplets. A drenched palm was pressed to his mouth, and Guy swallowed in the savory taste of purity, enjoying the simple elegance of the act. A fellow pair of glittering azure gems caught the swordsman's attention from across the courtyard, the final drips of water spilling over the folds of his cupped hand, and down over the colorless fabric of his shirt.
"Guy!" The source of the servant's distraction waved his hands furiously, attempting to gain the man's gaze. Once the blond had satisfactorily perked up, head rising barely and inch, twin sapphires shifting in the sound's direction, his new-found company stopped his beckoning and drew closer, a slight pout dusting a pale face framed by thick crimson locks.
"Guy, I thought father told you to get ready."
The servant blinked, half-whistling as the clear liquid still clung to his lips and eyelids, a fine mist dappling his renewed body. After a short pause, Guy leapt up and unto the wall of the fountain, but knelt, as to keep his eyes level with those of his sworn lord.
"Master Luke, he did so this morning," the blond responded, unusually nonchalant voice ringing with both a sense of respect and pride – said tone appeared to confuse the man's younger master, who tilted his head in response, batting his eyelashes. A hand went to the red-haired teen's side, drawing out a small roll of parchment.
"Go to your chambers, Guy. You only have an hour, and you can't be late for your own service."
"Yes. Yes, of course, Master." There was another moment of stillness, a strange linkage between two sets of gleaming blue orbs. Luke was the first to break the seemingly impenetrable moment, shaking his head, and ducking away in poor attempt to conceal the dusting of red upon his cheeks.
"C'mon, move it," the teen spat, and, seeing his companion's momentary off-guard amusement, took the opportunity to push his lifelong friend into the fountain. "See? Now you have to get changed." And with that pitch of arrogance ringing high in his voice, Luke fon Fabre trotted away quite merrily, leaving a drenched servant murmuring semi-obscenities to the heavens as he progressed back inside, and toward the room he shared with the manor's gardener.
...~...
"My lord, his majesty of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear, royal highness and imperial general, King Ingobert, welcomes you to the chamber of your recognition."
"Guy Cecil!" The king's voice boomed above the harsh whispers which filled the courtroom, silence immediately grasping and charging the atmosphere. Only royal blood was in attendance, Guy noted, as it had been royalty he'd served his entire life. Though not nearly as sheltered as the young master, Luke, the blond still had limited contacts in the outside world, surely none of which would be granted entry to an event of this magnitude.
Guy was now eighteen years of age.
Guy was finally to achieve what he'd only dreamt of before.
"Kneel!" The king had somehow taken his place before the servant, and, with much haste, the swordsman obeyed the single command, taking his bow gracefully upon one knee. "Your sword!" the elder man roared. No one in the room could've blinked in the small amount of time it took for Guy to unsnap his belt from about his waist, and draw forth a polished blade of pure silver: a gift from royal Duke Fabre.
"Guy Cecil… do you swear to pledge yourself and your worth for, and only for, the bettering and protecting of Baticul?"
"I swear."
"And do you swear to protect the honor of the throne with your life?"
"I swear."
"And do you swear, above all, to remain committed to this city, this kingdom, for the greater good pledged by the sacred Score?"
"I swear."
"Very well then! Then, henceforth, I shall bow before you, my friend!" And he did, the king ducking low and meeting Guy's face with a tiny smile. "Rise, Sir Cecil, honorable White Knight of Baticul, and sworn protector of all that is good!"
And so he did, cheers and applause erupting throughout the throne room as Guy was presented with a single, silver chain – the symbol of the Order of Lorelei hanging from its end. The swordsman wordlessly slipped the talisman around his neck before turning toward the beams of sunlight radiating through the stained glass windows. He admired the reflections of his companions, bathed in colored light, and began to gaze further into the distance, dreaming only of the future…
"Guy!" The simple distraction of a familiar companion snapped the servant from his trance, a blissful smile upon his lips as he turned to face the one who'd called him: Luke fon Fabre.
"Guy… I…" For once, the young master seemed speechless, something foreign welling up within his eyes, threatening to spill out as blessed drops. The blond tilted his head, extending a hand to Luke's shoulder – the first time he'd dared to touch the master since his return from the kidnapping. This simple action seemed to make the redhead crumble, suddenly pulling Guy into a very sudden, very tight embrace. The blond smiled, patting Luke gingerly upon the back.
"Congratulations, Guy."
The significance of touch: a rekindled equality, which Guy knew would die all too easily. And so he clung to it.
The significance of words: a blessing uttered by his master, and, above that, his friend. And so he held the words' sweetness ringing in his ears, refusing to speak.
But most of all, perhaps, was the significance of what Luke did next.
He pulled away, taking two steps backwards. It looked as though the crimson-haired teen might've decided to run, having not shown nearly this much emotion for years. Luke took a deep breath, slipped another footstep in backward, and…
Bowed.
"I'm… I'll be glad if you decide to stay in Baticul… continue your work at the manor..." Luke looked away, obviously embarrassed that he was making such a statement.
The blond blinked, a careful smile gracing his lips. With blue eyes twinkling like stars, there came a single nod.
I swear.