#flag knight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrfandomwars · 9 months ago

Text

Y'all probably thought I would never post it-

tagging those who reblogged it and made it happen, apologies ahead this: @shmurphy16 @frogwithmask @lecirueblr @alchemicalwerewolf @getyourpaybackwithsomepayback

AO3 Link

Phantom ducked away from the crowd, heading farther from them.

They helped today, doesn't mean they liked being out, in a time so different from the time they came from.

From the one they only had blurry and fractured memories they had from their original timeline.

Phantom just shook their head.

Now was not the time.

They had to go back underground, back to…

Back to where they always stood, they weren't sure why, but they stood there.

It was good today, yet a hectic day, something they… missed, for some reason.

"Going away so soon?" Asked a voice behind them, making them turn around and fall into a fighting stance.

Only to force themselves to relax.

It was the Knight from before, the one who saved the flag, it was-

"Lady Sequana." Phantom greeted, feeling a bit uneasy at being in the presence of a Goddess, bowing to her as their mind raced trying to figure out Why she would seek them out.

"That is I, yes, my good citizen." The Goddess confirmed, walking closer and having no trouble as she gently lifted Phantom's chin, making them straighten (and feel their face heat up a little, even though it was Far from impossible, from the first person they helped to the youngest of the children they had come to save complained they were cold, deathly cold as one had said oh years ago, was it centuries-?) until they were face to face, eyes staring to the other's eyes.

Or well, that would be the case, had Phantom any face (so long forgotten, so long wiped away, lost beyond any memory-) and had the River Goddess not had a hood hiding her eyes.

"I came here to extend my gratitude for aiding those Youths and the Commemoration, the children may have perished, and the Festivities would not survived without your assistance." She said after a few moments, dropping their chin.

"It was the right thing to do." Phantom answered, holding back a nervous gulp.

And that was it.

The kids were in danger, no one should stay so near the catacombs for long, and when they still needed someone to take the Torch with such importance, especially when they held it and felt the history in the flame and knew it wasn't an importance just for show-

Well, Phantom could do nothing but make sure it was delivered, despite the fact that they were a bit lost at times.

At least the Torch helped guide them, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

"That does not mean your actions are not worth at the very least an acknowledgement from the Heads of Spirits and State." Shot back Sequana, "And knowing you were not able to stay in the presentation long enough before starting to fade, I came here to extend an internal thanks in the name of France, thank you…" She trailed off, and Phantom could Feel her staring at them.

Why was she-

"Phantom, Your Divinity." They finally answered.

It wasn't their name, that was lost long in history, it had been so long that Phantom couldn't even remember-

But Phantom was something they called themselves as that was what people called them, and Phantom…

Phantom had the feeling that it was something that had begun happening even Before they left the physical, mortal realm.

Lady Sequana nodded.

"Thank You, Ser Phantom, for your great act of service at today's Ceremony." She said, extending a hand for Phantom to shake.

Which they did, after a hidden and quick moment of hesitation.

They both stayed silent after the handshake, staring into each other until Phantom nodded.

"M'lady, if I may be excused." Phantom nervously asked, drifting their gaze downwards, away from the Goddess', feeling very much out of their usual 'help and run away' depths.

Yet not daring to do anything without her authorization, something even they - with their no experience with divinity - knew would end badly for them, had Phantom even just simply tried.

"Are you not staying for the celebrations of the general populace, Ser Phantom?" Sequana curiously inquired.

"I must return to my dear catacombs, My Lady." Phantom answered, still not daring to move their gaze, "…and from what I have witnessed and experienced, spirits like I would not be welcome in such lively events, Madam."

"I believe today would be different, my good Ser." Answered confidently the River Divinity, "I urge you - not order, urge you to at least try it for a few minutes, you may come to enjoy it, and I shall be present and by your side the whole time. If at any point before the night is over you wish to leave, I will personally make sure that you return Underground without having to face another Live Spirit."

"But what about me phasing out on the Alive, Lady of the Divine River?" Phantom asked, really not wanting to go, feeling a bit apprehensive of the whole thing.

"As long as you remain by my side, you shall not have to worry about any Living Soul discovering your true nature." Soothed Sequana with that promise.

Extending her hand, open for Phantom to take, she spoke:

"So, Ser Phantom, what do you wish to do?"

Phantom carefully took it.

"I shall… Take on this adventure, My Divine Lady." Gingerly, answered Phantom, daring to only lift their gaze to the Celestial in front of them.

"Thank you for trusting me, Ser Phantom, I shall ensure you will not come to regret it." Sequana responded, sounding relaxed and a bit… relieved.

Had Phantom dared to look for longer, they would swear that the face of the immortal was somehow smiling without moving, without changing from the expressionless look it bore.

Gently leading Phantom out of the alley, Sequana paid no mind to the crowd opening around them as they noticed her and the Ser, taking out their new gadgets - interesting how they came so far in so little time, really - to photograph and film them, only caring to grab the reins of Her Steed and guide her so she would not be left behind.

(She could feel the Heads and Representants of Her Dear France and of the different and even far away Lands slowly getting closer.

Someone in their service staff must have told them where she and Ser Phantom were.

She did not care for mortal thanks, but maybe Ser Phantom would get the thanks from the Lead Mortals after all.

Making a decision, she slowly led her Loyal Stallion and the Honourable Spirit towards where the Ruling Mortals were.)

notes: 1. It is where they died, few of their bones still remaining Because they were in a humid place.

If people reblog this like. 5 times by different individuals/blogs, I will post tomorrow my 1100 or so word Phantom of the Olympic½ X Knight of the Olympic².

¹Phantom of the Olympic(s), Torch Bearer, The (Mysterious) Individual, etc

²Knight of the Olympic (s), Flag Knight, Flag Bearer, etc

#mr writes #the phantom of the olympics #flag knight #flag bearer #olympics 2024 #the torchbearer

25 notes · View notes

missriyochuchi · 10 months ago

Text

The Torchbearer and the Flagbearer

Summary: The Torchbearer and the Flagbearer meet in the Jardin des Tuileries after the Opening Ceremony and commiserate about the Olympic Games.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Established relationship. Mentions of death.

Notes: I imagined these two like otherworldly beings blessing the games, what with the Olympics being invented by ancient Greeks as a partly religious event. As such, I would have preferred to keep them gender neutral, but because I’m writing this in a pinch and want to be able to distinguish between them without constantly using their names, I opted for gendered pronouns. But nothing about their physical descriptions are particularly gendered; I’m just leaning on the old linguistic quirk lol Also, how tf is there no video of the Flagbearer!? I wanted to gif her/their entrance but couldn’t find a damn thing! She/They deserves more love!

Read on AO3 - Part 2 - Part 3

Darkness cloaks the Jardin des Tuileries. Even the cauldron floating above its center offers little illumination on the ground. Shadows play along the perimeter, tourists passing in the midnight hour, their idle conversations lost to the humid air. The soft patter of rain echoes across the masonry scattered throughout the empty park. Only the occasional creak of metallic plates and restless hoofbeats betray the garden’s solitary visitors.

The Flagbearer looks up at the orange orb in the sky. She marvels at the city’s ingenuity. Decades of oil and gas have finally given way to an electric fire. Only with such technological advancements could engineers even dream of safely flying the eternal flame above the City of Lights. If only the future was as assuredly bright, the Flagbearer thinks. Her gaze drifts back down to the darkness below, the surrounding chill creeping back into her senses. Her horse stirs beneath her and jostles her mind back to the present.

“Easy, Zeus,” she murmurs as she presses her legs to the animal’s sides in an attempt to soothe both their anxieties. “Patience.”

No Olympic Games are ever truly free of political problems, an inevitability of any gathering between disparate peoples, but they weigh heavier on the Flagbearer’s mind now more than ever. Her part in the Opening Ceremony is small but significant, and though she spends less time among the crowds than her eternal counterpart, she catches enough to gauge that tensions are higher than ever before. The darkness of the night seems to encroach and bleed into the darkness in her mind as she ponders human history and her role in it. Before her resolve could lurch under the gravity of her thoughts, the light crunch of gravel announces his arrival.

“You are late,” the Flagbearer intones harshly. She steers her steed to turn around and face the approaching footsteps.

Enough ambient light creeps across the park to distinguish the Torchbearer’s silhouette, catching on the gauzy pieces of his attire bobbing in the breeze. His stride is sure, his stature straight, betraying neither weariness nor arrogance. Only a few meters away, he shrugs and raises his palms out at his sides, teasing, “I did not have a ride.”

The Flagbearer is unmoved but in no mood to quarrel. “How are you, my love?” Her voice floats soft and light through the misty drizzle.

“Exhausted.” His shoulders slump fractionally, perceptible only to his eternal flame facing him. “And you?”

“Concerned.”

The Torchbearer reaches for the horse’s muzzle and runs a familiar hand along his nose. “I hope you are not as troubled as your rider, mon joli cheval.” Zeus bows his long head and huffs in response. His palm runs along the animal’s left flank, lifting once he reaches the Flagbearer’s side. He extends both hands to her gloved ones and helps her to the ground.

“What ails my sweet?” He pinches her chin.

She hums and takes one of his hands in both of hers, squeezing hard enough to convey her worry. “In all our years shepherding these games, did you ever know the atmosphere to be this—”

“I know. The world is—”

“Restless.”

“Yes, and—”

“Not at peace.”

“Never has been, my love.”

“I do not remember it ever being this—”

“Your worries are not unfounded, cherie, but you must redirect your attention elsewhere.”

They circle the base beneath the cauldron, hand in hand. Zeus follows close behind, his reins tied to the saddle. While the nightlife bustles beyond the park’s pocket of silence, the few security guards on duty watch the hooded figures from a distance.

Event organizers had explicitly and numerously instructed personnel not to approach or engage with the Torchbearer and Flagbearer. They were both host and blessing to the festivities, and decades of tradition dictated that a respectful, neutral distance be maintained between the host nation and the two Olympic guardians so that there would be no suspicion of impropriety or favoritism during competition.

The Flagbearer recoils, incredulous. “How can you be so indifferent to the violence and rhetoric—”

“I am surprised that between the two of us, you, in your glittering armor, are the first to lose hope and declare defeat.”

“I have not!” She stops them in their orbit and shoves his hand back to his side.

The Torchbearer laughs. He crooks a finger under her chin and raises her gaze. She sighs and closes her eyes as the backs of his fingers graze her cheek. Her hands come up to open and press his palm to the side of her face, his pressure more than his warmth a soothing balm to her inner turmoil. Her voice is low and leaden when she continues.

“I merely wonder if the gods have not tasked us with an impossible mission.”

The Torchbearer falls silent as he contemplates the Flagbearer’s concerns. She did not interact with humans as much as he did, a natural consequence of their separate roles. While the Olympic torch exchanged hands with every kind of man and woman, the Olympic flag exchanged hands with a significantly select few. As a result, the Flagbearer’s opinion of humanity often leaned towards the optimistic while the Torchbearer’s leaned towards the pessimistic. He had come to know, better than she, the complexities of human nature, their heavenly highs and their hellish lows. They spent decades arguing about the tenuous balance. Now, as he watches his partner’s shoulders sag with the weight of the world, he finds himself despondent that she seems poised to concede to his viewpoint and knows it, knows that she lost this one important battle. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and guides their walk away from the cauldron.

“Plus vite, Plus haute, Plus fort.” The Torchbearer rattles off the Olympic motto.

“Citius, Altius, Fortius, my dear. Latin may be dead, but it is still your mother tongue.”

“‘Ensemble.’ C’est la partie importante. And that is precisely what they are doing and continue to do.”

“But for how long? We do not have a future if they do not, and my darling, I do not see—”

“We cannot predict the future any more than humans can. It is none of our concern. The gods will take care of us.”

“The gods have abandoned us, just as the humans have abandoned them.” The Flagbearer catches the ice in her voice and does her best to warm her vitriol. “We do not exist outside these games, my love. And if these games end, if the world can find no purpose to these communal competitions—”

Silence. The specter of death looms large in their periphery. Every Closing Ceremony marks the end of their days on Earth, a return to a darkness beyond darkness. And every two years, they are reborn and reimagined back into existence to inspire and perform and protect the Olympic Games. Despite the constancy of this cyclical event, the eternal guardians find humans increasingly less hospitable to the ideals they represent. What is sportsmanship to a world where even the rules of war no longer hold?

“Steel your heart as this city has steeled your form.” The Torchbearer steps close enough for the edge of his hood to kiss hers. “The next host cities have been decided, their venues under construction. We still have a future. There is no reason to despair.”

“For now.”

“For now.” He sighs at her obstinacy, but knows not to push further or risk wasting precious moments on a fruitless fight. “In the meantime, the games have begun, and we do not have much time together.”

A smirk plays beneath the Flagbearer’s hood. She perks up at her partner’s motives. “Sixteen days is not enough to spend with you.” She steps closer and brings her forehead to his. She squeezes his biceps, and he rubs her elbows in return. They exchange breaths for a moment of eternity.

“Come.” The Torchbearer takes her hands and swings her in circles. Their laughs echo as they near the horse. “Much of the city has changed since we were last here, and you will not see them if you continue to sulk beneath the cauldron.”

The Flagbearer mounts Zeus and extends an arm to help the Torchbearer take a seat behind her. He presses his front to her back, unbothered by her damp cape. He slides his arms along either side of her waist and rests his hands atop hers on the horn of the saddle. The horse ambles forward towards the city streets.

Buoyed by the Torchbearer’s embrace, the Flagbearer regains a sliver of her hope and optimism. “The Italians will call on us next. Perhaps we will meet a changed world by then.”

“We always do. I wonder what forms they have planned for us.”

“I quite like this form on you, my dear. The cut of your jacket complements you well.”

“As does this armor on you, mon amour.” His hands find the edge of her cuirass and sneak nimble fingers to the suit underneath.

She giggles at the light pressure below her ribcage. “I will miss hearing you speak this city’s language.”

The Torchbearer tightens his hold on the Flagbearer, impressing his being into hers. “You worry about community and forget that we are in the City of Love.”

“Paris is not the world, my dear.” They sway in sync as Zeus carries them towards the edge of the garden.

“Perhaps, but the Olympic Village is, or at least, as close an approximation as the humans are capable of producing. If it is unity you seek, we will surely find a certain kind—”

“You said you were exhausted.” Amusement lightens the Flagbearer’s tone, her heavy mind now fizzy with thoughts of the Torchbearer’s amorous intentions.

“Never enough to deter me from you.” He presses his chin to her shoulder, his words vibrating down the expanse of her armor. “Would you waste the energy of the players’ liaisons?”

Her hood whips to the side as he squeezes the unarmored flesh of her upper thigh. Before she can answer, he takes the reins and brings Zeus to a gallop towards the Olympic Village.

“No more talk,” he heaves with urgency. “I need you before the sun rises and our duties begin again.”

Footnotes:

mon joli cheval - my pretty horse cherie - dear Plus vite, Plus haute, Plus fort (French) / Citius, Altius, Fortius (Latin) - Faster, Higher, Stronger ‘Ensemble.’ C’est la partie importante. (French) - ‘Together.’ That is the important part. mon amour - my love

“The 100% electric flame burns no fuel. The ring of fire uses 40 LED spotlights to illuminate the cloud created by 200 high-pressure misting nozzles.” (source)

According to the engineers who built the mechanical horse, its name is Zeus.

#*#olympics #paris olympics #paris 2024 #olympics 2024 #silvertorch #phantom torchbearer #phantom of the games #phantom of the olympics #torchbearer #flagbearer #flag knight #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #guys we really really need to nail down not only their names but their ship name bc i can't handle this level of disorganization lolol #also hi i never post fics on main but i've been going on about these two for a full day so whatever first time for everything #masked torchbearer

157 notes · View notes