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[the-spinner-of-yarn]

last-daughter-of-llyr​:

Desperate times call for desperate measures. At least, that was what Eilonwy was telling herself now. At the very least she could have consulted William before she ran away with the farce; but she’d been put between a rock and a hard place when her guardians told her they’d arranged a marriage for her with a man nothing short of nightmarish by her standards, and her tongue got away from her, “There is such a thing as a slow burn romance.” she insisted, “It is not as though this was exactly my plan. They just kept pressing to know who it was when I said I was already engaged and… you were the first person I thought of.” the woman tried to explain, “It should not be that difficult to believe if they bought it.” Ellie shifted nervously, “I just… I need you to do this for me. Just until I can find a love match. Please, William.”

"A slow-burn romance?" William repeated incredulously as he paced agitatedly. "Well, we best tell everyone to bring their coats and blankets because they might just freeze before this becomes a burning flame." He sighed deeply as his pacing slowed to a stop and looked at Ellie, unsure if he wanted to hug and comfort her or shake the living daylights out of her. His heart went out to her; truly, it did. It was unimaginable for him to understand what it was like to be told to marry someone he did not care for. "Fine," He conceded with a resigned huff, "But who is the bloke whose honor I've apparently offended by stealing away his betrothed?"

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

northernxstories​:

Ivar was pleased when Charlie accepted the drink and seemed to settle, at least a little. “I prefer more…intimate companionship. More familiar celebrations. Besides…” he laughed softly, “Many of my people have disappeared to have their own celebrations while some will frolic with the…guests of the night. It is interesting to see the differences and the similarities between our people, isn’t it?” He leaned toward the other man, just slightly but he couldn’t resist closing at least some of the distance between them.

His hand came forward to rest on Charlie’s forearm, left there, the warmth of his palm intensified by contact with the other man’s skin. “Among my people it isn’t uncommon for two men to…celebrate such a victory together. Your people do not have this tradition, do they?”

"Some say that large celebrations like these are often the most intimate. At small ones, there is hardly any privacy." Charlie joined in on the other man's laughter and nodded upon reflection. "Yes, but as different as we are, it doesn't seem like anyone is having a hard time intermingling." He began retelling an encounter with one of Ivar's men where he nearly drowned sharing a drink from a hollowed-out animal horn before the hand on his forearm caused him to tinker off. Bright blue eyes flickered down, back up to Ivar, and then down again. While Charlie was an uneducated man, he was smart. His mind raced quickly from the beginning of their conversation, and understanding did not take long to shine in his eyes. "No," the soldier drawled slowly as his mind carefully picked out his next words. "Not publically, at least." Most of their men would rut underneath the stars like wild animals, and many would tonight with the whores. "Are you searching for a... male partner for your... tradition? I may know a few who might be interested and unoccupied.” 

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

oppulcnce​:

If she had a knife she’d stab it into his neck- no into his head, but here he was the one with a weapon under her chin. Unluckily for her, she hadn’t been in the home of her father and missed out on the noble execution along with the jarl and her brothers. And it took everything in her to not just spit in his face, but he chose her- and she gave a small smile before whispering, “I’ll kill you in your sleep,” she said as her chin was lifted up. 

A wicked smile formed almost instantaneously on the warrior's face at the fire the girl spewed at him. "Is that so?" Aesir chortled low. The ax's flat side tapped gently on the underside of her chin and, unbeknownst to him, smeared the blood of her father and brothers on her fair skin, "Then I'll just have you keep me awake then, so the opportunity doesn't arise. Hm?"

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

grimmanor​:

michele.

Out of all of the clergy members they had to deal with, Michele was easily their favorite. He was so appreciative, kind, and willing to help. Even if he was poking around to track them at the end of the day, Gabriel could only see good things in the other. “I’m sure we’re going to be fine. Perhaps it’s something that will go away on its own with time.” He knew what he needed and that remedy wasn’t so easily attained with the other around. “We can split our tasks evenly still. You’re here on official business, so we cannot blame you for not noticing.” Gabe looked around to make sure there was no one else out by the water and he slowly started to unbutton his black shirt. He didn’t think Michele would have joined them, but Immanuel insisted that this would be good for the three of them. Perhaps he would have been proven wrong further down the line, so his gaze wandered back and forth between the other two. 

Already being out by the water seemed to help Immanuel. While he still needed to feed, his skin didn’t feel as dry. He quickly crouched down on his knees and scooped up some of the water in his hands, pouring it over his face. Then the young pastor stood up, smiling over at the other two. “It gets warm once you’re actually inside. Trust me.” Immanuel followed suit and started to unbutton his shirt, but at a faster rate than Gabriel. “I trust that the water can help all of us. Perhaps it can help you find the answers you need and clear your mind to see the path you’re meant to take on your mission.” He grinned slightly as he stepped closer to Michele. “If both of you don’t agree to come with me, then I’ll just have to take my beautiful voice inside and practice more hymns.” He didn’t know if he was as convincing in his normal state. but he wasn’t going to try to use his abilities anyway. 

Michele faked a shocked expression at Immanuel before looking incredulously over at the other priest in a playful manner, searching for confirmation that someone else had heard the threat. "Father Immanuel, are you... extorting me?" Then, in dramatic fashion, he placed a hand over his heart and stumbled a step back as though the young pastor's words had wounded him. "That is cruel, even for you, to keep your voice and hymns to yourself, especially after I told you how they nourish my soul!" He laughed a warm and heartful one before holding his hands up in surrender and, like the others, followed suit by unbuttoning his priestly robes and the shirt underneath. "Though I should warn you if you keep this behavior up, I'll soon be asking Gabriel to help me sleep instead of you." Michele had grown very fond of the dynamic he had developed with the other clergymen. With Immanuel, he felt energized and playful and found himself inadvertently acting more freely than he would at home in the Vatican; with Gabriel, a spark of desire to please by following the older man's stoic example and somehow win his approval or praise.

Soon, his clothes were left in a folded pile on the sand, and Michele waded slowly into the water in his undergarments. His slow and cautious pace reflected his unwilling and almost unsure nature to dive into anything headlong as he managed to make it about hip-deep in the water before stopping. A splash of cold water against his upper body had him cringing and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. "Nope. This is as far as I’ll go." He shook his head with tightly pursed lips. Immanuel was right. The water cleared his mind, but instead of finding answers to his investigation, he could only focus on his apparent dislike for the cold. “You lied! The only warmth found in these waters are from the bodies in it.” It was difficult for Michele not to curse and say His name in vain as another wave of cold water cruelly washed up to his chest. 

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

open to f verse: historical/viking. tw: potential non-con

It was the last raid of the season, and what a glorious one it had been! Their enemy had been brave and fierce when faced with adversity, but it mattered little once Aesir unleashed his warriors upon them. Like the hounds of hell, they had torn through the settlement, murdering and raping, until they stood victorious in the burning wreckage. Now that the battle was over, he could hear his warriors celebrating over the crackle of burning wood and the cries of the conquered, and as much as he wished to join them, his work was not done. Now came the pillaging. Walking down the line of survivors, Aesir examined each and decided who they would take back to their home as slaves. “This one, this one, and…” He paused in front of one and placed the flat edge of his ax underneath her chin. Then, forcing her to look up, his bright eyes raked every inch of her body, “And this one.”

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

Open to f Plot/Verse: Historical/Period. Our muses are childhood best friends, and your muse told everyone that they're engaged to get out of a betrothal, then convinces William to pretend they are so she can find true love, but then he falls in love with her. 

"You told them WHAT?!" It took every ounce of self-control William had not to shout, which was an impressive feat considering the gravity of her actions. "Just how, pray tell, will we convince anyone that we are suddenly in love and engaged? We're practically siblings! It'll be impossible to convince even one person that our relationship isn’t purely platonic!"

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

grimmanor​:

michele.

“Don’t you worry. What’s ours is yours and I figure Father Amorth would share that same sentiment.” There was something about neighbors not being greedy in the bible. Realistically Gabriel didn’t read too much into it. He nodded slightly while Michele explained what he was doing in the study. Did Amorth leave anything there? Anything that connected the other priests to the crimes? “I hope you find everything that you need. We can try making contact to him again. I’ll ask the nuns if they’ve recently spoken to the sisters that joined the journey with him.” If they were alive he was sure that someone had to hear from them. Gabriel smiled softly at the other question, letting Immanuel take the lead there. Instead he just stepped out of the study, heading out through the back of the church. 

Their ailment being apparent wasn’t shocking to Immanuel. He needed the ocean and Gabriel needed someone’s hormones. Thankfully, salt water was easier to come by when someone was poking around their church, but it was still hard to sneak away. “Thank you for the concern, Michele, I can assure you we will be back at one hundred percent soon enough.” Immanuel followed Gabe out of the study, but his head was turned to face Michele all along the way. “I just think that we have the flu, but it’s hitting us in different ways. My throat seems to be soothed the most when I drink tea and sing, but Gabriel’s fever makes tea and soup impossible to keep down.” He rubbed the back of his neck and took in a deep breath. Hopefully Michele hadn’t dealt with sirens and incubi going through withdrawals in the past. “I’m sure the ocean air will help me. Potentially even a dip in the waters. My mother ways said the waves cure the soul.”

Michele nodded and smiled appreciatively instead of voicing his thanks for the thousandth time. It felt like every other sentence he spoke was a thank you, and the two words felt like they were losing their value despite his genuine sincerity. Still, his determination to find a way to show the other priests his appreciation grew as he followed the oldest of their trio out the back of the church. "The flu?" His dark brows pinched together in concern as he looked between Immanuel and Gabriel. He had noticed the two looking under the weather but did not realize their illnesses were so severe. Guilt weighed heavily over Michele again. "I'm so sorry. I've been so preoccupied that I didn't even notice. But, please, let me take some of your tasks until you're better. I insist." He shook off any attempts to deter him and reiterated briefly that it was the least he could do for their hospitality.

The morning air felt colder and brisker than when he patrolled earlier, making Michele shiver as they approached the water's edge. He had yet to investigate the beach, primarily because at night, it was dark and ominous and struck trepidation into his heart. Standing there in broad daylight, the exorcist felt silly for his anxiety, especially when he could feel more joyful emotions lingering over the sand than anything else. Michele strayed from the other two and bent over to let the gentle waves lap at his fingers before withdrawing immediately. "The water is quite cold. I'm not sure how exactly it will cure the soul, but I'm sure it will wake you." Michele laughed as he scurried away from the water with his hands tucked deep into his pockets to conserve his warmth. "You should take Gabriel with you, Immanuel, to help lower his fever if you take a dip."

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

prettyhcle​:

rico’s lips coated the rim of the glass, ready to throw it back and let the intense stinging of alcohol overcome sense but he attention was cut to the ‘man’. a slight nod on the chin towards michele in a mild agreement to the correction. more amused then annoyed, he raises his glass towards the other, “they sent me a royal dragoon? hm. ” amusement slides into a visible frown pulling cracks of his features. he isn’t keen on the idea of a good solider out of battle solely for his night of pleasure — then again, perhaps these soldiers were the only ones physically strong enough to endure war and a night with their king. “tell me michele, did the counsel least offer you something in repercussion for tonight?” he questions eying the other’s clothes frame with a spark of hunger tinting the gaze.

"'There is no greater reward than service to King and Country.'" Michele recited the words Rico's council had said to him monotonously, though, in his mind, he repeated what the military men he trusted said: 'failure is not an option.' He was less receptive to the counsel of soft men like the King's advisors, who did not have his well-being in mind. His commanders had at least been kind enough to prepare him for the rough road ahead and to treat his time with Rico as part of a military strategy, which would result in the sovereign not starting another conflict if Michele was successful. He took a deep breath, downed the rest of his drug-laced drink, and placed the empty cup on the table before he began undressing. Kicking off his boots first, the dragoon unceremoniously stripped his trousers and tunic and left them in a pile on the floor until he was as naked as the day he was born. Unlike the unblemished lords and ladies sent to frequent Rico's bed, Michele's muscled body was marred with scars and bruises at various stages of healing. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, for not having a body of a whore. If I'm unsightly, your council does have a more appealing replacement with the associated talents of a whore at the ready."

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

grimmanor​:

michele.

For it having been a whole week, Gabriel was actually quite impressed with Michele. He figured most people would have left them by then or tried to solve the problem themselves with no additional help or guidance. Even though he knew exactly what was going on, the help he could give was minimal. Thankfully it was because Father Amorth was a reserved and private man. No one expected him to leave such crucial information to anyone, even other men of the cloth, unless he was there to see the progress himself. From what he could tell, Michele was just as persistent as their head of the church. That was why he wasn’t too surprised when he found the man lurking in the study. He crossed the door, only taking a step into the room, and smiled politely. “You did not, but I was worried someone was breaking in as this room is always untouched. Aside from Father Amorth, of course.” 

Immanuel hadn’t gone this long without using most of his abilities. His skin had started to feel dry and his throat was hurting, but thankfully there came a relief every time he sang. It was dangerous to lure people to their doom with Michele in their presence. Sometimes, the incubus and siren didn’t even know where the other man was. That was why they needed to be extremely careful. When he heard voices coming from Amorth’s study, it was almost like his body stood up faster than his brain could catch up. Immanuel wanted some form of interaction, even if it was brushing his hand over someone’s body. He did just that to Gabriel when he stepped inside, their hands barely brushing together as it sent a heat through his whole system. “We are also early risers here, so good morning to you as well Michele.” He smiled softly, looking around the room. He had never stepped foot in the study before, but that was also because it didn’t hold that much of an importance to him. “Forgive me for the intrusion, but I don’t know how comfortable I feel about all of us being here without Father Amorth’s knowledge. I actually thought we could head out to the water for a bit, perhaps fresh air will help clear our minds and find the answer to this mystery.”

"Forgive me. I didn't realize the Father's office was off-limits. The door was unlocked." It was a lie. The door leading into the office was most certainly locked when he had arrived earlier, but that mattered very little to someone with a talent for picking locks. It was a skill the exorcist had perfected as a boy attending seminary at the Vatican. There were so many locked doors within the city-state church that very few could keep his curious mind from breaching and learning the secrets behind closed doors. "Some reports to the Vatican are overdue, and I was hoping the Father left some correspondence for me," Michele explained with an innocent smile. However, he did feel some guilt as he accumulated another sin for lying.

His brows pinched together in concern when the youngest of their trio made an appearance looking worse for wear. Over the past few days, he had noticed that Immanuel seemed to be growing sick and was tempted to decline the offer for a walk to spare the boy, but if he was well enough to ask, he must have been better off than he thought. "Yes, that sounds wonderful." Michele lied again with a forced and slightly pained smile on his tired face. He was exhausted from his night-long patrol, but as repentance for breaking into the room and lying to his brothers, he would delay sleep for a bit longer. Slipping Father Amorth’s bible into one of the larger pockets of his priestly robes, he stepped outside of the office and followed them. “I’ve been meaning to ask, brothers. Are you two well? You both seem like you’re falling underneath the weather.”

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

northernxstories​:

Ivar was immediately informed that the whores arrived. Good. That was good. Not for him, of course, but it meant the men would be distracted. They would not notice. He didn’t want to shame the soldier after all…he just wanted him. 

How could the eye not be drawn to him. Charles…Charlie.. yes, the name haunted, the vision of him filled Ivar’s mind in the quiet of his tent as his hand worked to provide temporary distraction and instant relief. 

As Charlie stepped through, he waved away his secretary, released the man to go play with the recently arrived whores who would slake other’s desires. Ivar noted that Charlie had followed his instruction and was freshly bathed. He had extended the same courtesy, long hair clubbed back with small braids fastening it firmly, as was the way of his people. 

“Yes, I hoped you would be willing to indulge me with your company tonight. Join me for a drink, Charlie.” It wasn’t exactly a question but it lacked Ivar’s usual gruff command. It was an invitation, poorly offered. His fingertips ached to touch the man. 

Charlie's formalities faltered in front of the General for a moment as he shared a familiar smile with the secretary. Then, taking a few seconds to exchange a few quick and quiet words before patting the other man on the back with promises to seek him out later as he exited, it was clear that the short-haired blond was a well-like soldier amongst both of the allied armies. He returned his attention to Ivar before his expression turned into surprise. "O-of course, sir." He replied quickly. The invitation took another unexpected turn, but like the good soldier he was, Charlie would not pass an offer to strengthen the alliance between their troops.

Taking a seat across from Ivar, he accepted the offered drink and immediately took a sip. The pleasant tingling from his drinking earlier had worn off during his cold bath in the river, and Charlie was eager for it to return. "Shouldn't you be with the other officers celebrating? I do recall my commander leaving us to celebrate in the main command tent so why are you celebrating here alone?”

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

prettyhcle​:

rico & michele·

rico hates fragile objects. he is tired of breaking the weak and disposable within days of receiving them; bored of listening to the screams and weeping of weak that crumbled under him. was he asking too much of their bodies and soul? now he leaves his counsel to worry about the rage brewing inside the king as the only solution they came up with is sending someone trained for war. rico eyes the present, inhaling the details of the solider with little to no reaction of michele’s words, “enough of the praise,” voice still booms at the low volume, “you fought it with me. the people should be the only ones to thank us.” the king throws some of his drink down and steps away from michele slowly making his way towards the foot of the bed. “what’s your name boy?” shoots the question over once he turns back around to listen to the answer. 

His lips pursed into a thinly forced smile as he ceased his admittedly insincere praise. Michele loved his country and its people to the point he would sacrifice everything he had for them. The only thing he did not love was his King. Now that he was close and personal with his country's god-chosen sovereign, he sensed that the man was cold and ruthless and perhaps more suited to be the King's sword than the leader himself. A suspicious thought crossed his mind on why the civil council had made such a preposterous arrangement with the military, and the soldier wondered if there was a wicked plot underway. He took a sip of his drink and inwardly cringed at how the drug turned the usually pleasant drink bitter. "Man," Michele corrected the King brazenly after sucking his tongue gently to get rid of the taste. "I am a man, Your Majesty. I fought your war. I did not service it. I am Michele Conté of His Majesty’s 1st Royal Dragoons.”

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

thefcw​:

“God, I’m starting to sound like my father, aren’t I.” Or he’d spent too much time with his peers who behaved like nobility as formality and finesse was expected of them. As much as Caius tried to live up to his father’s name he’d never be like him, Caius was more hot headed but if anyone could calm him down it was Charlie. “I wouldn’t know, I never really had eyes for ladies be they that of night or day. Or both.” Sometimes he pretended, whistling along with other men and once he even pretended to leave with a women only to pay her to leave him alone and go home. When Charlie reached for him Caius felt relief and excitement, smirking at his question, “I’m almost afraid to ask how much it’d cost me.” He was joking, he’d never treat Charlie like a commodity even if his motive behind inviting Charlie were somewhat selfish.

The real cost would only present itself if they were caught together which is why when Caius was a foot soldier they had to hide everything except for their friendship. Now it would be even more risky given both had more to lose but with the risk came opportunity. No one would be barging into his tent unless it was about life and death. Leaning close Caius kissed Charlie, almost desperate as he ached to feel the other like he once had.

A noncommital hum resonated from the short-haired blond, who chose to remain neutral for a moment before changing his mind. "There are times I hardly recognize you." He admitted, but his tone did not relay whether his observation was good or bad. It was inevitable that Caius would change. He was ascending to a higher place in the world where he was surrounded by men and women cut from a different cloth than him. What concerned Charlie was the toll that particular world would have on the young General, who seemed to be on the brink of falling apart as he sought to meet the expectations set by his father.

Using his hand on the back of Caius's throat to control him, Charlie guided the other man until he stood in front of him and looked up with eager brown eyes that never ceased to stir something inside him. He felt his trousers tighten, contemplating the new opportunities the private tent granted them. "Not much, especially when you've earned it." Whenever Caius did something particularly well, whether work or something that pleased him, Charlie praised and rewarded him. Whenever he did something poorly, he would punish and educate, but this was not the case. The General had done well during the battle and deserved a reward. Returning the kiss with closed eyes, a pleased rumble vibrated from deep within his chest before his hand snaked between them to cup Caius's groin. "Do you want me to touch you?”

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

thefcw​:

“Oh I know. You made it loud and clear if I’d smacked you during the night.” And if they trained Caius got returned in kind. Nevertheless he wouldn’t have changed it if it was his choice, when his father began to pushing Caius harder he could tell he had little say in the matter. The more he rose in rank the less he could spend time with Charlie and a part of him feared the man began to forget and despise him for it. But as always Charlie remained kind and unfazed even through the war. When Charlie asked if he missed anything else Caius felt a wave of anxiousness as he stared at the floor thinking Charlie had guessed the motives of why Caius had invited him in the first place.

“No, that’s not all I miss.” A smile spread on his before he looked at Charlie, “There’s one good side to having your own tent. Privacy.” He tried to sound more confident than he actually felt, he wasn’t comfortable being vulnerable or insecure and he wasn’t sure whether Charlie had someone else. “And with the other men occupied with their ladies of the night I figured they wouldn’t notice if I stole you away.”

The expression on Charlie's face was, as always, cordial yet strangely impassive. It was difficult for just about everyone to figure out what exactly was going through his head, and although he would cheekily say nothing at all, he was always thinking about something. Whether it be about the war, the soldiers, or Caius, there was always something working the gears of his mind, and at that particular moment, it was why he was in this tent. There was no denying they had grown apart, mainly because the other man had ascended the ranks while he chose to stay where he was to be a big brother, or even a father figure, for many of the men, but it only felt physical. Absence had only made his heart fonder.

"'Ladies of the night?'"A bark of laughter erupted from Charlie as he shook his head incredulously. "Well, that's just rude. I think that is a common misconception because, believe it or not, I've seen them in the daylight as well." His bright blue hues looked towards the tent flap, pretending that he did not pick up on the insecure waver in the younger man's voice. A moment passed before Charlie unfolded his arms around around his waist and, without looking, reached for Caius. A calloused hand gripped the back of the General’s neck and pulled him closer, “Were you hoping for me to be your ‘man of the night’ then?”

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

The Small Council needed someone to distract the Sovereign until they could find the right companion for him. The King had been breaking his playthings and going through them faster than his advisors could provide, and they feared his idle hands would become the devil's workshop. So, they had decided to go with a route that would simply buy them time while they searched the realm and selected someone from his most loyal of followers - his army. The war may have been over, but there were still hard men who could handle pain and abuse. For King and Country, that was what the King's advisors had proudly declared to Michele, while his former commanders whispered in his ear to lie back and think of the country. The latter had prepared him for the worst by slipping him a vial with enough opium powder to numb him from the world. "Please, Your Highness." He accepted the offer with a nod and took the drink. Michele took a small sip before cradling the glass in his hands where he secretly began sprinkling the drug into his drink. “I believe a congratulations is in order for you. Without your guidance, we would have lost the war.” Michele raised his glass slightly, “To you, Your Highess, from the Enlisted ranks. Thank you, and congratulations.” 

OPEN / all

give me a historical plot where a young maiden(or male servant) is selected to be a friendly companion for a rough and angry king

“send them in.” a simple booming command towards the knights outside his chamber doors. he puffs the cigar a few more times until he smashes it against the ash tray. standing up, the king glides through the room towards the table full of liquor and glasses. the shirtless man, barley glances over to the door opening to push a body in before doors close behind them. he is concentrating on the drink pouring, making sure he ends up with two filled then turning around to greet his new companion. “drink?”

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

thefcw​:

Of course he was fine. Very few soldiers actually complained out loud especially after battle. Most were too exhausted and after battle even a patch of ground with no enemy in sight seemed like a blessing. The most difficult part for Caius was watching men rush against the enemy and he couldn’t make a move, just yell orders. And he knew exactly how miserable that made him sound like if were to complain so he didn’t, at least not to anyone he didn’t know well. When Charlie mentioned being destined for greatness Caius took a sip of ale with a sigh and rolled his eyes a little. Nepotism was crap but he didn’t want to be ungrateful.

“Miss the dirt and mud, leaning against a tree or a fellow soldier so you wouldn’t have to rest with your head in a puddle?” He stayed quiet for a moment smiling at the thought, “Call me insane but I do. I miss the jokes and banter we had until we fell asleep, throwing your helmet at the one who snored too loud, me punching you in my sleep when tossing and turning. Good times.” Mostly he missed being close to Charlie, they’d been close and Caius was fearing his new position was making them distant.

The life of a foot soldier was not glorious, but it made up for it with good memories and everlasting bonds. Misery was a powerful bonding agent, which was why the men always teased their leaders for being soft. The elevated cots and warm tents came with more hardships than Charlie thought they were worth, so he didn't mind sacrificing the opportunity to keep his life simpler and more straightforward than Caius's. He chuckled at the fond memories of when the General used to be one of them.

"You were always the worst to sleep next to," Charlie confessed, yet he never chose another place to rest for the night. It was always by Caius's side. Another drink and another moment of silence. "Is that all you miss?" While Caius's time as a foot soldier was just a memory now, it was still the reality for Charlie, but there was something that was a memory and an aspect he missed. Late at night, when their brothers-in-arms were fast asleep, he missed how he would hold the other's hand to help him settle at night and the kisses they would share in the dark.

[the-spinner-of-yarn]

thefcw​:

“You didn’t hear it from me but they cluck like hens in a henhouse. Or like roosters who won’t stop crowing.” Most of them were older than Caius and had far more distinguished careers than he did. Although Caius made it to his high position with hard work his quick promotion probably had something to do with his family and father perishing. Caius didn’t enjoy the company of his peers, he missed being just another soldier in a row of others. Pouring himself and Charlie new glasses Caius smirked, “Oh yes. The young general gloriously remained at the back of the soldiers with the rest on his mighty steed only to launch into battle at the very end.” His voice was over the top, almost mocking himself. He did get some fighting in but the higher you were the less likely you got into the middle of the fight in battle, his duty was more to keep an eye on the battle and direct the troops. Handing Charlie his glass Caius leaned against the table next to him. “What about you, Charlie? You’re better than ever, I could promote you to commanding officer. You’d still see plenty of action but you’d get to tell people what to do.” It had its ups and downs but Charlie would make a good commander, men respected him. “It won’t get you a tent like this but you would get a smaller one.”

A knowing chuckle rumbled pleasantly from deep within the soldier's chest as he nodded in agreement. The officers of the army were not much different from the lower enlisted. In Charlie's opinion, they were just as prone to trivial gossip and drama, but the quality was much less exciting and scandalous. However, he supposed it was because officers were expected to remain as gentlemen-like as possible, and he found it incredibly dull.

Taking the glass and chuckling again as Caius recounted his brave actions during the battle, he took a drink and coughed slightly at the quality. It was significantly better and more robust than the shit-beer they drank outside. "I'm fine," Charlie gasped slightly from the burn. He was always fine. It was his default answer even when he wasn't. "I'm fine where I am. Some men are meant for greatness like you, and others are intended to stay fodder like me. It's just the way of the world, and I've no problems sleeping outside in the dirt. You miss it though, don’t you?”