Novels: Hawkmoon Chronicles
Summary: Just a silly little ficlet in which Hawkmoon and D’Averc attempt to escape their boredom in their new home.
Note: Set around the second chapter of The Sword of the Dawn, wherein Kamarg has been transported into another dimension.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters mentioned - Mike does - and I mean no offence or infringement.
Hawkmoon stood and watched the scene from his window, his Yisselda in his arms. The unfamiliar sun rose over the alien Kamarg, lighting up the strange streams and caressing the vastly unknown fields. A flamingo spread its wings and took off into the rays.
“It’s beautiful here,” Yisselda repeated for the hundredth time as she gave the view a glance, and Hawkmoon could only nod.
He planned to ride out this morning again, to search for an enemy – or at least something to alleviate this tension, this boredom, this endless pressure of something that didn’t exist. Restless, she’d call him, and he’d quietly agree and steal away to ride his horse or practice with his sword. It was as if a part of him was suddenly missing – but she didn’t see it, she didn’t miss it the way he did.
She laid a soft kiss on his forehead and slipped out of his embrace.
“I shall leave you to it, Dorian. Father will want to see me.”
He muttered something in response and watched her dress and leave. She was happy. Why wasn’t he?
Within ten minutes, he found himself riding hard away from the castle, searching, almost desperately, for something that he couldn’t name. It was pleasant, though. The wind blew in his face, bringing scents from the fields, and the sky seemed to have fallen into the river as he crossed it, splashing wildly.
“My dear Duke, what is the hurry?” The voice was closing in, and Hawkmoon had no need to turn around to know whom it belonged to.
He slowed down a bit and allowed D’Averc to level with him.
“Just the same, D’Averc, trying to escape my boredom.”
“Ah,” the Frenchman laughed. “Then we are in the same boat yet again.”
“Maddening, isn’t it?” Hawkmoon stared ahead.
“Not if we let it, dear Duke, not if we let it,” D’Averc murmured mysteriously and before Hawkmoon could ask him to clarify, he was off and ahead. “Catch me if you can!”
Hawkmoon smirked and sent the horse after his laughing friend, quickly closing the distance between them. As their horses levelled up, Hawkmoon freed his feet from stirrups and balanced on the saddle, like he’d seen Muskovites often do, and before he allowed himself to think about it, he was jumping across and onto D’Averc, tackling him hard to the ground.
The horses galloped away, whinnying slightly, and Hawkmoon shook his head, looking at the Frenchman beneath him. D’Averc’s eyes were closed, and a worry crossed Hawkmoon’s heart. He quickly checked for heartbeat, and sighed with relief as he felt it pulse against his fingers.
“That was very foolish, dear Duke,” D’Averc chuckled, opening his eyes.
Hawkmoon grinned, still astride the abominably happy Frenchman. “Let’s do something foolish again?”
D’Averc’s gaze crinkled with mischief.
“Only this time, it’s my pick,” he declared.
“By all means,” Hawkmoon conceded, curious as to what the other had in store for him, but before he could think about anything else, he was flipped to the ground, and their positions were reversed. Hawkmoon laughed, looking past his friend’s face and into the cerulean sky.
“Is that all, Huillam? That was your foolish deed?”
“No,” D’Averc whispered, somehow instantly serious. “This is.”
The next thing Hawkmoon knew was D’Averc’s mouth on his own, warm, heady, sweet like the wine that the Frenchman evidently drank earlier, and as strange as this was, he found himself being drawn into the kiss, reciprocating in equal fashion and with equal fervour.
“How’s that?” D’Averc grinned as he pulled back, his hands on either side of Hawkmoon’s head.
A million things should have ran through Hawkmoon’s mind. Guilt, disgust, aversion… but somehow they just didn’t fit in his head. Instead, all he could do was reach out, placing his palm to the back of D’Averc’s neck, and pull him down again.
“I think,” he murmured between the heated kisses, “that we might have to repeat your foolish act.”
"Many times over," D'Averc echoed him cheerfully.