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Aug. 4th, 2021 09:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iniquiticityliam: bren met astrid and eadwulf when trent locked them in a tower together
me:
The tower was still when the master closed the door, and Bren heard the door click. There was still a stone floor, which was where he sat. The master was so angry at him, when he'd failed the spell. That had been worse than the actual failure, which still smarted in the core of his chest where the magic came from, and made his fingers strained-sore.
I had simply expected more, the master had said, frowning. But such tolerance can be built up.
The thought, the idea — that he had failed the master, that he could fail the master - couldn't stand. He stared at his legs, moving aching fingers in the spell positions, over and over, until the chill wind that brushed through the high stone windows made it too cold to keep his hands out. When the gusts blew they made strange wails in the open holes. He flickered lights when the sun faded away from the tower holes, but those lights - or the flames in his fingers - brought no relief from the wind and the chill, or the rumble of his stomach. He repeated every calming exercise and thought through his classwork to wait for the hours to pass but the cold seemed to increase steadily.
At some point the door opened and the master was there. He stood up, everything creaking, frozen.
"Is that all you can take, Bren?" the master asked,"Certainly the empire's enemies will have more."
Bren sat back down. Into the tower walked a girl, already shivering. She was small, with long hair that she wore over her face on one side. Pretty, he thought. She did not have a jacket, and her arms were crossed over her body, visibly shivering in the light of Bren's spell.
"This will be a good place to reconsider your choice," the master said to the girl, his breath leaving frosty clouds, and closed the door.
She sat with her back to him near the door, pulled her legs up to her chest, and buried her face in her knees. Still creaky, he got up and sat next to her, wiggling out of his jacket and putting it over his shoulders.
Great Dawnfather it was cold, he realized. Without a jacket he felt the cold like a pain in his chest, stabbing next to the muscles that ached from the failed spell.
"I don't need it," she said, teeth chattering between words, and threw the jacket back at him, "I can handle it myself."
"You're shivering," he said. This was what you did when girls were cold, obviously, and she did what she was supposed to do. He'd watched the older students. He picked up the jacket, hands stiff, and put it back on her. "I'm Bren."
"Astrid," she said. She didn't look at him or shrug his coat off. She stared at her shoes. The skin on the tops of her feet was pale in the light of his globes.
They talked about their tests, and classes, and the school, until it was too cold to talk. Astrid wiggled one of her arms out of his coat and put some of it over him. This did not help all that much. He thought his nose might fall off. Maybe it already had. He tried to stop his teeth from chattering. The Empire's enemies would hear his teeth chattering and kill him. How could he protect anyone if he couldn't handle a cold night. The master was right. He was expected to be more, to do more. The master expected more of him; he knew there was more of him.If he couldn't cast one stupid spell the least he could do was sleep on the ground.
"It's cold," he said, finally, trying to find the best way to fit as much as he could under the jacket without taking any from her, and also trying to cover the spot in his throat which was exposed. At least he had boots.
"I'm fine," Astrid said, no matter how tightly she gripped her knees or how blue she looked. Even so she wiggled close to him, and at least her skin wasn't colder than the wind. He felt the little iccles in his chest from the air.
The door open and they didn't bother to look over. Bren didn't hear the master's voice, only the door closing. Bren thought about looking over, but it was too cold to move his neck from the spot where he had settled it against Astrid's body. There was exactly one space there that he could feel, where they made contact. He didn't want to move.
He felt Astrid move.
"Come over here," she said. Bren heard footsteps, when the wind died down. It was whipping more now, finding crevices in his body that had not yet frozen.
In front of them sat another student. It was hard to see, with his face pressed against Astrid anda complete unwillingness to move, but bren guessed: big. He'd been trying to get that big, but it wasn't working, no matter how many crunches he did.
"What'd you fail?" Astrid asked.
"Last one for the night run," the voice of the person - rumbling, deep - responded. "It's cold."
"Yeah," Bren mumbled into Astrid. Sometimes the master would wake them up and have them run around the campus. He'd never been last. With the strength the master must have known he had, he turned his head to press the side of his face to Astrid instead. She must have been making the light now; his hands were frozen pressed against him.
The other student was big, with a square face and broad shoulders. He was wearing a nightshirt.
"Here," Astrid said, and to Bren's great surprise and misfortunate she pulled away, "Bren, let me crawl into your arms."
Bren was too cold, too tired, too hungry and too stiff to disagree. He forced his complaining body to rearrange so Astrid could crawl into his lap.
"Now —-" A beat, from Astrid, "— I'm Astrid, and this is Bren."
"Eadwulf," he said.
"Now, Eadwulf, put your nightshirt over us can stay close."
"It's not that big," Eadwulf said, but he pulled the front of the shirt off. Bren watched, mostly dumbfounded, as Astrid pulled her shirt off and wiggled them both, with some effort into the nightshirt. The linen was coarse and pressed tightly to his back. It was hard to breathe. His brain said *trapped*. But Astrid's bare skin was pressed against his shirt and it was not all frozen. It was not the ice wind. He could feel Eadwulf shaking the nightshirt that bound all of them with his ferocious shivering. But at least he could not see his breath. In fact he thought his eyebrows might be thawing.
"Thanks," Bren whispered to them, "After this. When we're strong. Let's.. let's be strong."
"We are strong," Astrid said, like it was obvious.
"We?" Eadwuld whispered, and his arms came around Bren, the shirt struggling to contain them but staying together now.
"We," Bren whispered, in affirmation. He felt Astrid nod.
me:
The tower was still when the master closed the door, and Bren heard the door click. There was still a stone floor, which was where he sat. The master was so angry at him, when he'd failed the spell. That had been worse than the actual failure, which still smarted in the core of his chest where the magic came from, and made his fingers strained-sore.
I had simply expected more, the master had said, frowning. But such tolerance can be built up.
The thought, the idea — that he had failed the master, that he could fail the master - couldn't stand. He stared at his legs, moving aching fingers in the spell positions, over and over, until the chill wind that brushed through the high stone windows made it too cold to keep his hands out. When the gusts blew they made strange wails in the open holes. He flickered lights when the sun faded away from the tower holes, but those lights - or the flames in his fingers - brought no relief from the wind and the chill, or the rumble of his stomach. He repeated every calming exercise and thought through his classwork to wait for the hours to pass but the cold seemed to increase steadily.
At some point the door opened and the master was there. He stood up, everything creaking, frozen.
"Is that all you can take, Bren?" the master asked,"Certainly the empire's enemies will have more."
Bren sat back down. Into the tower walked a girl, already shivering. She was small, with long hair that she wore over her face on one side. Pretty, he thought. She did not have a jacket, and her arms were crossed over her body, visibly shivering in the light of Bren's spell.
"This will be a good place to reconsider your choice," the master said to the girl, his breath leaving frosty clouds, and closed the door.
She sat with her back to him near the door, pulled her legs up to her chest, and buried her face in her knees. Still creaky, he got up and sat next to her, wiggling out of his jacket and putting it over his shoulders.
Great Dawnfather it was cold, he realized. Without a jacket he felt the cold like a pain in his chest, stabbing next to the muscles that ached from the failed spell.
"I don't need it," she said, teeth chattering between words, and threw the jacket back at him, "I can handle it myself."
"You're shivering," he said. This was what you did when girls were cold, obviously, and she did what she was supposed to do. He'd watched the older students. He picked up the jacket, hands stiff, and put it back on her. "I'm Bren."
"Astrid," she said. She didn't look at him or shrug his coat off. She stared at her shoes. The skin on the tops of her feet was pale in the light of his globes.
They talked about their tests, and classes, and the school, until it was too cold to talk. Astrid wiggled one of her arms out of his coat and put some of it over him. This did not help all that much. He thought his nose might fall off. Maybe it already had. He tried to stop his teeth from chattering. The Empire's enemies would hear his teeth chattering and kill him. How could he protect anyone if he couldn't handle a cold night. The master was right. He was expected to be more, to do more. The master expected more of him; he knew there was more of him.If he couldn't cast one stupid spell the least he could do was sleep on the ground.
"It's cold," he said, finally, trying to find the best way to fit as much as he could under the jacket without taking any from her, and also trying to cover the spot in his throat which was exposed. At least he had boots.
"I'm fine," Astrid said, no matter how tightly she gripped her knees or how blue she looked. Even so she wiggled close to him, and at least her skin wasn't colder than the wind. He felt the little iccles in his chest from the air.
The door open and they didn't bother to look over. Bren didn't hear the master's voice, only the door closing. Bren thought about looking over, but it was too cold to move his neck from the spot where he had settled it against Astrid's body. There was exactly one space there that he could feel, where they made contact. He didn't want to move.
He felt Astrid move.
"Come over here," she said. Bren heard footsteps, when the wind died down. It was whipping more now, finding crevices in his body that had not yet frozen.
In front of them sat another student. It was hard to see, with his face pressed against Astrid anda complete unwillingness to move, but bren guessed: big. He'd been trying to get that big, but it wasn't working, no matter how many crunches he did.
"What'd you fail?" Astrid asked.
"Last one for the night run," the voice of the person - rumbling, deep - responded. "It's cold."
"Yeah," Bren mumbled into Astrid. Sometimes the master would wake them up and have them run around the campus. He'd never been last. With the strength the master must have known he had, he turned his head to press the side of his face to Astrid instead. She must have been making the light now; his hands were frozen pressed against him.
The other student was big, with a square face and broad shoulders. He was wearing a nightshirt.
"Here," Astrid said, and to Bren's great surprise and misfortunate she pulled away, "Bren, let me crawl into your arms."
Bren was too cold, too tired, too hungry and too stiff to disagree. He forced his complaining body to rearrange so Astrid could crawl into his lap.
"Now —-" A beat, from Astrid, "— I'm Astrid, and this is Bren."
"Eadwulf," he said.
"Now, Eadwulf, put your nightshirt over us can stay close."
"It's not that big," Eadwulf said, but he pulled the front of the shirt off. Bren watched, mostly dumbfounded, as Astrid pulled her shirt off and wiggled them both, with some effort into the nightshirt. The linen was coarse and pressed tightly to his back. It was hard to breathe. His brain said *trapped*. But Astrid's bare skin was pressed against his shirt and it was not all frozen. It was not the ice wind. He could feel Eadwulf shaking the nightshirt that bound all of them with his ferocious shivering. But at least he could not see his breath. In fact he thought his eyebrows might be thawing.
"Thanks," Bren whispered to them, "After this. When we're strong. Let's.. let's be strong."
"We are strong," Astrid said, like it was obvious.
"We?" Eadwuld whispered, and his arms came around Bren, the shirt struggling to contain them but staying together now.
"We," Bren whispered, in affirmation. He felt Astrid nod.