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'Building the Fire' - Guy + Luke [TotA]
~
" 'Cause everything inside me looks like
Everything I hate
You are the hope I have for change
You are the only chance I'll take"
[A/N:...Every now and then, I end up writing something like this--something that is less "could-have-happened" or "possible future" story and more contemplatively taking apart something that we know is canon. I never really know if I quite like them, because they feel more boring to me than my normal fics (in a sort of 'yeah, yeah, WE KNOW THIS ALREADY' way), but...at the same time, it sort of crystalises a lot of what I get out of that canon fact or event, so it still feels somewhat worthwhile. Hope you aren't too bored with it. ;]
...Also...I am going to assume that all of you who are reading this are smart enough to understand that there is more than one type of love. This fic is concerned with a deep, platonic, brotherly love; nothing more, nothing less. I would thank you not to twist it and take it as anything else, but if you must, kindly refrain from commenting about it here, because while you are certainly free to like whatever pairings you want, I really do not want to hear about them, and since this is my journal, I would ask that you respect that. :| Please do not make me regret making the assumption that you are, in fact, intelligent enough to understand the concept of authorial intent.]
Guy, Luke. 'Building the Fire.'
He had Van to thank for getting him the position in the first place. It had been five years since Hod, long enough for Duke Fabre to let his guard down and take in another child to keep his son company--an older child who could look after and keep an eye on the boy, a playmate, babysitter, and manservant in one. “Guy,” as he’d come to call himself (close enough to his real name to remind him of everything, but at the same time far enough removed to prevent untoward suspicion), would be everything to the other boy. He would go everywhere and do everything with the younger boy…right up until the point where he found the perfect way to exact his revenge.
It would take time, careful planning, studying both his father’s killer and his actual target. It would take patience, to wait until he had the wealth of information he needed to make this as clear a message and as perfect a payback as possible. It would take strength and skill…quite possibly more than he possessed, because the supposed child he’d been charged to take care of…wasn’t very childish after all.
He never cried. Not when he was told ‘no’ or sent to bed early; not when Guy beat him in a spar or at any sort of game; not even when he fell out of the tallest tree on the estate and broke his arm in two places. Guy had long since grown out of his own cry-baby behaviour (he’d had to grow out of a lot of things, and quickly), but this boy had never seemed to have engaged in it at all, save perhaps for the first two-and-a-half years of his life or so, when he was a literal baby and crying had been a necessity. Still, with how he acted, it was hard to imagine him as anything but an extremely calm, stoic infant; he faced up to everything bravely, fiercely, and it left Guy feeling ill, annoyed, and vaguely envious and inadequate.
He was just so sure of himself, so confident and self-sufficient. So prideful, knowing exactly who he was and what he planned to do with his life, a series of high-born dreams and spun sugar promises--dreams that were so unbelievably childish, far too idyllic and unspecific for any adult to take seriously. And yet he stated them with such gravitas, just as he did with anything and everything else, somehow managing to look down on whomever he was talking to despite the fact that they stood (physically) high above him. Boredom, dissatisfaction, superiority, determination; those seemed to be the only emotions he had any room for, or at least the only ones he could be bothered to display.
It had been so easy to hate that Luke.
But somehow everything had changed after Luke was kidnapped. Seeing Luke carried in, shivering and frightened, with eyes more like a wild animal’s than a human’s, unable to say a word, unable to walk, unfamiliar with anyone...seeing that altered things. Where he’d once been cool and independent, now everything had to be done for him, and as Luke’s personal servant, the majority of Luke’s care had fallen to Guy.
He seemed so different, like a whole new Luke. Gone was the stubborn, self-assured boy who was so much a man already, and in his place was a wide-eyed, innocent, and malleable child who was delighted with such simple things as the sight and scent of the flowers Pere tended in the courtyard, and who was fascinated by the smallest things—a passing insect, the bouncing of a rubber ball, his own reflection in a still pool.
And somehow it fell to Guy to be everything to Luke (just as he’d though he would be originally), to fill every important role in his life. First and foremost, he had to be a parent--a parent at fourteen, of all things--but Luke honestly knew nothing, and his real parents were largely absent, emotionally if not physically.
Duke Fabre was every bit as standoffish as he’d been before the kidnapping, too busy with political matters to spend (waste, he would probably say) his time playing with his only child. That’s what they’d taken Guy in for after all, wasn’t it, so that the boy would have someone to play with and look after him? And Lady Suzanne still hadn’t recovered from the shock of the initial kidnapping; ironically enough, seeing Luke seemed only to make her worse. She spent most of her days in bed, a flurry of maids tending to her every need, and this or that doctor stopping by almost daily to check on her health or prescribe a new medicine.
So it was Guy who showed him how to use silverware, how to button his shirt, how to pull on his boots. It was Guy who was there to guide his first steps, to catch him whenever he abruptly lost his balance and fell over, to carry him to bed when he dozed off playing in the gardens or the main hall. It was Guy who heard his first words, and who he ran to when he’d been hurt or needed help.
After a while, Guy’s role gradually changed to more of a brotherly one--looking out for Luke, teaching him more specific things like how to hold a sword or the best places to hide from Natalia or the maids. He became something of an actual teacher as well, though Luke never really took to those sorts of lessons: just teaching him to read and write was a struggle in and of itself, though one that was ultimately successful.
That brotherly feeling faded a bit as Luke continued to grow and came to understand his role and position in society, though that was mostly due to the Duke’s influence and insistence that Luke not spend too much time with “the hired help”. As expected of a teenager, Luke just rolled his eyes and agreed, then turned around and did the exact opposite; despite his father’s wishes, Guy remained Luke’s best friend--his right-hand man, someone to be trusted and counted on and looked to for advice and aid. When Guy casually mentioned that Duke Fabre wouldn’t like it if they spent too much time together, Luke just snorted and said that it wasn’t like there was really anyone else around for him to spend time with, and that he’d probably die of boredom if Guy wasn’t around so he’d better not go anywhere. It was gruff and sounded selfish, but Guy could only smile knowingly and promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Because as Luke had grown, Guy had found his hatred lessening, his love for someone in his present overcoming his love for someone in his past simply because it was still a living love, one that could be reciprocated, and one that strengthened as time went on.
Even after Luke had grown up enough to develop an attitude, it wasn’t the same as before, wasn’t that cold, superior aura. He was spoiled, certainly, but how else could he have turned out with an entire household fussing over him and bowing to most of his whims? And even when Luke turned that attitude against him, actually treating him like a servant rather than a brother or an equal, Guy still couldn’t find it in his heart to muster any sort of resentment--not against this Luke, who had freed him from worse bonds than forced servitude, unknowingly, unintentionally convincing Guy to give up his plans for revenge and to live and to love in the present rather than the past, as a free man.
-
Guy + Luke: My heart was changed by you--by your simple innocence, and your absolute trust in me.
" 'Cause everything inside me looks like
Everything I hate
You are the hope I have for change
You are the only chance I'll take"
[A/N:...Every now and then, I end up writing something like this--something that is less "could-have-happened" or "possible future" story and more contemplatively taking apart something that we know is canon. I never really know if I quite like them, because they feel more boring to me than my normal fics (in a sort of 'yeah, yeah, WE KNOW THIS ALREADY' way), but...at the same time, it sort of crystalises a lot of what I get out of that canon fact or event, so it still feels somewhat worthwhile. Hope you aren't too bored with it. ;]
...Also...I am going to assume that all of you who are reading this are smart enough to understand that there is more than one type of love. This fic is concerned with a deep, platonic, brotherly love; nothing more, nothing less. I would thank you not to twist it and take it as anything else, but if you must, kindly refrain from commenting about it here, because while you are certainly free to like whatever pairings you want, I really do not want to hear about them, and since this is my journal, I would ask that you respect that. :| Please do not make me regret making the assumption that you are, in fact, intelligent enough to understand the concept of authorial intent.]
Guy, Luke. 'Building the Fire.'
He had Van to thank for getting him the position in the first place. It had been five years since Hod, long enough for Duke Fabre to let his guard down and take in another child to keep his son company--an older child who could look after and keep an eye on the boy, a playmate, babysitter, and manservant in one. “Guy,” as he’d come to call himself (close enough to his real name to remind him of everything, but at the same time far enough removed to prevent untoward suspicion), would be everything to the other boy. He would go everywhere and do everything with the younger boy…right up until the point where he found the perfect way to exact his revenge.
It would take time, careful planning, studying both his father’s killer and his actual target. It would take patience, to wait until he had the wealth of information he needed to make this as clear a message and as perfect a payback as possible. It would take strength and skill…quite possibly more than he possessed, because the supposed child he’d been charged to take care of…wasn’t very childish after all.
He never cried. Not when he was told ‘no’ or sent to bed early; not when Guy beat him in a spar or at any sort of game; not even when he fell out of the tallest tree on the estate and broke his arm in two places. Guy had long since grown out of his own cry-baby behaviour (he’d had to grow out of a lot of things, and quickly), but this boy had never seemed to have engaged in it at all, save perhaps for the first two-and-a-half years of his life or so, when he was a literal baby and crying had been a necessity. Still, with how he acted, it was hard to imagine him as anything but an extremely calm, stoic infant; he faced up to everything bravely, fiercely, and it left Guy feeling ill, annoyed, and vaguely envious and inadequate.
He was just so sure of himself, so confident and self-sufficient. So prideful, knowing exactly who he was and what he planned to do with his life, a series of high-born dreams and spun sugar promises--dreams that were so unbelievably childish, far too idyllic and unspecific for any adult to take seriously. And yet he stated them with such gravitas, just as he did with anything and everything else, somehow managing to look down on whomever he was talking to despite the fact that they stood (physically) high above him. Boredom, dissatisfaction, superiority, determination; those seemed to be the only emotions he had any room for, or at least the only ones he could be bothered to display.
It had been so easy to hate that Luke.
But somehow everything had changed after Luke was kidnapped. Seeing Luke carried in, shivering and frightened, with eyes more like a wild animal’s than a human’s, unable to say a word, unable to walk, unfamiliar with anyone...seeing that altered things. Where he’d once been cool and independent, now everything had to be done for him, and as Luke’s personal servant, the majority of Luke’s care had fallen to Guy.
He seemed so different, like a whole new Luke. Gone was the stubborn, self-assured boy who was so much a man already, and in his place was a wide-eyed, innocent, and malleable child who was delighted with such simple things as the sight and scent of the flowers Pere tended in the courtyard, and who was fascinated by the smallest things—a passing insect, the bouncing of a rubber ball, his own reflection in a still pool.
And somehow it fell to Guy to be everything to Luke (just as he’d though he would be originally), to fill every important role in his life. First and foremost, he had to be a parent--a parent at fourteen, of all things--but Luke honestly knew nothing, and his real parents were largely absent, emotionally if not physically.
Duke Fabre was every bit as standoffish as he’d been before the kidnapping, too busy with political matters to spend (waste, he would probably say) his time playing with his only child. That’s what they’d taken Guy in for after all, wasn’t it, so that the boy would have someone to play with and look after him? And Lady Suzanne still hadn’t recovered from the shock of the initial kidnapping; ironically enough, seeing Luke seemed only to make her worse. She spent most of her days in bed, a flurry of maids tending to her every need, and this or that doctor stopping by almost daily to check on her health or prescribe a new medicine.
So it was Guy who showed him how to use silverware, how to button his shirt, how to pull on his boots. It was Guy who was there to guide his first steps, to catch him whenever he abruptly lost his balance and fell over, to carry him to bed when he dozed off playing in the gardens or the main hall. It was Guy who heard his first words, and who he ran to when he’d been hurt or needed help.
After a while, Guy’s role gradually changed to more of a brotherly one--looking out for Luke, teaching him more specific things like how to hold a sword or the best places to hide from Natalia or the maids. He became something of an actual teacher as well, though Luke never really took to those sorts of lessons: just teaching him to read and write was a struggle in and of itself, though one that was ultimately successful.
That brotherly feeling faded a bit as Luke continued to grow and came to understand his role and position in society, though that was mostly due to the Duke’s influence and insistence that Luke not spend too much time with “the hired help”. As expected of a teenager, Luke just rolled his eyes and agreed, then turned around and did the exact opposite; despite his father’s wishes, Guy remained Luke’s best friend--his right-hand man, someone to be trusted and counted on and looked to for advice and aid. When Guy casually mentioned that Duke Fabre wouldn’t like it if they spent too much time together, Luke just snorted and said that it wasn’t like there was really anyone else around for him to spend time with, and that he’d probably die of boredom if Guy wasn’t around so he’d better not go anywhere. It was gruff and sounded selfish, but Guy could only smile knowingly and promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Because as Luke had grown, Guy had found his hatred lessening, his love for someone in his present overcoming his love for someone in his past simply because it was still a living love, one that could be reciprocated, and one that strengthened as time went on.
Even after Luke had grown up enough to develop an attitude, it wasn’t the same as before, wasn’t that cold, superior aura. He was spoiled, certainly, but how else could he have turned out with an entire household fussing over him and bowing to most of his whims? And even when Luke turned that attitude against him, actually treating him like a servant rather than a brother or an equal, Guy still couldn’t find it in his heart to muster any sort of resentment--not against this Luke, who had freed him from worse bonds than forced servitude, unknowingly, unintentionally convincing Guy to give up his plans for revenge and to live and to love in the present rather than the past, as a free man.
-
Guy + Luke: My heart was changed by you--by your simple innocence, and your absolute trust in me.