For all the SerraLucius fans out there, wherever you're hiding.
... And maybe just as a bit of a gift for Silvara... I said I'd do this fic SINCE SO LONG AGO.
One of these days I might try writing out an epic adventure filled with drama and intrigue, but today is not that day. Enjoy this fluffy story. (It was going to be a oneshot but it got too dang long and I worried I'd never finish it so now it's in parts).
J'espère que tout le monde aime cette petite histoire :)
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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The fighting was over. They had all emerged from the Dragon's Gate battered but alive. The morphs, the dragon, it all felt like nothing more than a surreal dream.
Fargus welcomed them back with hearty handshakes and playful winks sent Lyn's direction. To everyone's surprise, she laughed and elbowed Fargus in the side with a wink of her own. Never one to turn down a lady's good cheer, the corsair placed an arm around her shoulders and led her onboard to the cheering chorus of his entire crew. Before long, everyone made their way onto the ship for a well-deserved rest to be followed by a night of feasting and drinking.
That night, Lucius sat on deck against the cabin wall with a blanket wrapped tightly around his body to protect against the cool sea air. "Just a lil' breeze," said sailors with a sigh of disapproval at the landlubbers and their thick wool cloaks.
Near the mast, a drunken red-faced Wallace was telling ghost stories to anyone who was willing to sit down with their meal and listen to an old man slur about leadhess women and bisemdawdied voices. Wil held a lantern up to the general's side for the sake of ambience but he had to repeatedly dodge as Wallace described every detail in his story with a flourish of his arms. Everyone cheered for the hapless archer from a safe distance. Laughs erupted when Wallace nearly tripped and stumbled into Wil. Even the monk had to chuckle despite his misgivings about swinging a lit lantern aboard a wooden ship full of merry drunks.
"Hallo, Looshush!"
Lucius looked up to see Serra smiling down at him with a crooked smile and a slightly confused and unfocused look in her eyes as though she wasn't quite sure of what she was seeing. Before Lucius could respond, Serra stumbled his way with unsteady steps that nearly sent her into the ship's railing.
"Sister Serra!" said Lucius in alarm. He scrambled to his feet and reached out to help, but Serra miraculously righted herself with a red-faced giggle.
"S'I'm alrigh'."
Lucius eyed her undone hair that had somehow gotten into a tangled mess of sweaty pink strands and the scarf that had gone missing from her neck and now exposed more skin than most clergies would find comfortable. She gave a hiccup and Lucius decided to take her hand and gently guide her to the wooden floor of the boat's deck.
"Sister Serra... Would you like to sit with me?" He sat down first and gestured to an empty spot next to him where a blanket had already been laid out.
With another hiccup, Serra sat herself right in his lap ignoring Lucius's shouts. "Don't mind if ah do!" she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her finger along his earlobe. As if that wasn't enough, she leaned in towards his lips.
"Ah... Sister Serra?" said Lucius as he leaned away from her probing mouth. "Did you drink any alcohol, perchance?"
Giving up on trying to kiss the poor monk, Serra made herself content with resting her head in the crook of his neck. "Math-you gave me somethin' t'drink," she mumbled into his shirt. "Bitter. Didn' like it."
Matthew. Of course.
Lucius sighed. "Sister Serra... I'm feeling rather crowded."
"Ah'm not."
Somehow, Serra managed to tuck her legs in so she was settled within Lucius's crossed legs. The poor monk could only sigh again as Serra used his collarbone as a pillow. Over her shoulder, he watched Wallace recount tales of the unknown in the direction opposite his laughing audience. Somewhere near the railings of the ship, there was a person singing horribly off-key. Lucius quickly averted his eyes from the silhouette of two people locked in a passionate embrace in a dark corner of the ship.
"Looshush?" Serra loosened her grip on Lucius's neck for a moment. She was sober long enough to find his eyes with hers.
"What is it, Sister Serra?"
"Whatchu gonna do now?"
"I'm not sure I understand the question."
"Fighting'sh over. Whatchu gonna do?"
Lucius smiled with his eyes downcast. "I had hoped to follow Lord Raven, but..."
The monk sighed. Raymond had been adamant against it. He spoke strongly about not wanting to involve anyone else in his quest for revenge, especially someone who "deserved more than revenge could offer". He went as far as to avoid all contact with Lucius after the fight. Even now, Raymon's whereabouts on the ship were a mystery to the monk.
Serra slid out of Lucius's lap and sat beside him with knees tucked up to her chin. She pouted and asked, "Sho? Whatchu gonna do?"
Lucius reached over to the blanket he had meant for Raven and picked it up. With a smile, he draped it over Serra's back and let his hands rest on her shoulders. "Well," he said as he fixed the blanket so it covered Serra's arms, "I've always wanted to start an orphanage. Give children their childhood back, help them grow up right. It's been a dream of mine."
Suddenly, Serra's hands shot up and grabbed Lucius by the wrists. The monk nearly leapt back in surprise. "S-Sister Serra?" he said. Slowly, Serra raised her wet, red eyes to look up into his.
"Th-that'sh sho... sho..."
Instead of finishing her sentence, Serra launched herself at the monk and sobbed hysterically into his chest. Finding a crying woman in his arms, Lucius wrapped his arms around her shuddering shoulders and held her long into the night until she had fallen asleep amidst the drunken singing and flickering torchlight.
The air smelt of the musk that was oft associated with moist earth. Together with the sound of children laughing and splashing their way through muddy puddles, Lucius thought it was the perfect spring day. It was cool outside, not enough to give anyone a chill but just cool enough so that the sun's light was a warm blessing. The blue sky hadn't been so clear just an hour ago, but you wouldn't be able to tell from the children's mood. They sighed and sulked when the rain throttled the roof-but look at them now!
Lucius stared out the window as he continued to peel potatoes for their dinner that night. Another round of shrieks and yells erupted outside. It never failed to surprise him how much fun they could find in dirt-filled water and earthworms. No doubt there would be more grass stains and muddy streaks to clean. He decided he would run a hot bath for all of them that night as he did every night after a rainy day.
Being the father of an orphanage was hard. Keeping up with the children was taxing enough, but Lucius also had to provide food and clothing. When it was just a handful of children, it wasn't nearly so much trouble. But now his orphanage was a lively little place full of round, freckled faces. Lucius had never realized how many children were out there, homeless and starving. Whenever a child turned up at his door emaciated and dressed in rags, Lucius never found the willpower to say no even though room was scarce.
Suddenly, Lucius heard a loud shriek outside his window. Dropping a forgotten potato to the floor, Lucius didn't bother looking outside. He immediately grabbed his mend staff in hand to treat whatever injury had occurred. Old gossips told the story of a child chasing his ball into the path of a speeding horse carriage. Another fell out of a tree and broke his neck. Yet another simply disappeared while playing by the lake.
Lucius muttered a small prayer. He flung open the door, hands gripping the staff as hard as his slender hands could, and he froze at the sight before him. For all the strength he put in his grip, Lucius nearly dropped his staff.
Then he laughed.
"I'd forgotten you said you were visiting today in your letter," said Lucius as he leaned his mend staff against the wall. "How are you, Sister Serra?"
A young woman with pink pigtails laid on the ground with her clerical dress splattered brown. Curious children surrounded the fuming woman. They ran away laughing when the woman sat up and sent them a glare, eyes narrowed from either anger or the mud dripping down her face.
"Horrible!" shrieked Serra as the children around her scattered in fits of laughter. "Eight hours-eight!-to reach this place! That horse carriage just bounced up and down, up and down, and me on that horrid wooden seat! Do you know how bruised I am? The sores, the blisters, the unseemly tan! I'm nowhere as beautiful as I normally am! And this mud! I tripped over one of those brats and I feel simply horrible! Do you know how many hours of soaking in olive oil it will take to make my skin all smooth and shiny again? Days! Weeks! Months!"
Lucius walked over to Serra, offered her his arm, and helped her up. The muddied cleric was in no mood to be quiet and she continued to talk about her ruined nails and her normally impeccable hair.
Serra went on and on. "I was going to give the children a good first impression!" she said with her hand poised over her chest. " 'Look at me!' I was going to say, 'this is what a beautiful woman looks like!' Just to inspire them, y'know? So the boys would grow up to be men who'd know what kind of woman to look for and the girls would know what kind of woman to become! But it's ruined, all ruined! I don't have my usual radiance, do I? I mean, you can still obviously tell I'm beautiful - you can't hide beauty when you've got as much of it as I do - but I wanted to show them my best! Now I'm all covered in mud!"
Lucius smiled and nodded politely at everything she had to say. He offered her a pat on the hand as consolation for her horrible day and led her into the orphanage.
Serra was never a very quiet cleric. She was not humble, she was not modest. She boasted and called herself the most desired woman on the continent. From the way Serra acted around men, her chastity was suspect. However, with Serra around, the infirmary was never boring and patients had a fire in their eyes from the determination they felt to get well as soon as possible so they wouldn't have to listen to another round of beauty tips from "the pink-haired banshee", as was her nickname in the war.
As soon as she entered the orphanage, she found a dozen more things to complain about. The windows were dirty, the floor was uneven. The ceiling had holes, the walls had mould. As far as she could tell, the orphanage was just one big room with a small kitchen in the corner, a small bookshelf in another, and numerous cots and mats strewn against the walls.
Serra looked at the ragged welcome mat in front of her. To her well-learned eye, it looked like it was made from the pelt of many drowned rats. She turned to face Lucius. "You live here?"
"Yes, Sister Serra, all the children and I."
"Here? This tiny place?"
"It's cozy."
Serra stepped around the welcome mat, grabbed a broom, and started coughing when it stirred up dust clouds and cobwebs. "When was the last time you swept the floors?"
"I'm afraid I don't remember," said Lucius in between coughs. "The children occupy most of my time, I never have the time to tidy-"
Serra took that as a cue to put her hands on her hips and take charge. With so much flourish that she nearly took his eye out, Serra stuck her finger in Lucius's face and said, "Give me a set of spare clothing, a pail, a rag, a mop, a pair of gloves, three bottles of vodka and as many lemons as you have."
Lucius was taken back. "Vodka? I'm sorry, Sister Serra, but that's quite impossible-"
"Go buy some from the winery, then."
"Sister Serra! There are children here!"
Serra rolled her eyes. "Oh Lucius! I just need it for cleaning! I wouldn't let the kids drink it; it tastes horrible."
Now the monk laughed. "Cleaning! Of course, of course, I apologize."
And since Serra was a woman of infinite mercy, Lucius had only to pour her some tea and run her a hot bath to once again be in her good graces.
Later that day, Serra finished her bath and went back inside the orphanage to see Lucius pouring the tea he had promised her. He smiled at her, but seeing how she was busy scrutinizing the dust on the table, Serra didn't notice.
"Will the children be coming in?" she asked after dusting off a chair and taking a seat.
"No, I thought I'd let them play a little longer. It's been raining for days, you see, so they haven't been able to go out for a while." Lucius put the kettle down and took a seat across from Serra.
Serra, whose eyebrows were steadily climbing up her forehead, said, "You let them out to play right after it rains?"
"Well, yes. Their little faces brightened up so quickly when it stopped raining."
"But all that mud and dirt!" said Serra incredulously. "Even the little girls were rolling around like pigs! Caked! Just positively caked in mud! They'll never grow up to be wonderful women like me if they keep this up!" She gave a reproachful shake of her head before taking a sip of tea with her pinky pointed out so stiffly that it looked painful. Lucius could only laugh.
"No one else could ever grow up to be like you," he reminded her with a smile. It was the same smile Lucius used to give everyone in the war, the one that convinced everyone the man had to be a saint if he could fight a war and still be able to look forward to tomorrow and persuade others to do the same. One flash of his bright blue eyes was all it took to make Serra look away.
"I-I suppose," she said, all brashness suddenly drained out of her voice.
Strange how she hadn't remembered such a beautiful smile. Serra had to admit that it rivaled even her own.
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
FUN FACT: Serra used to be an orphan and lived a lonely life in a convent. It's in her supports... somewhere... Also, it's possible that Lucius later dies twenty years after the game ends, but I won't concern myself with that at the moment.
Anyway, thank you for reading and please review as you see fit!