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person4Title: Tradition
Fandom: Princess Maker 2
Pairing: Dragon Youth/Olive, onesided Cube/Olive
Notes: For June Fic-a-Day
Requested by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tauruschick12 here (unfilled requested)
They'd had a tradition that they'd followed ever since she was a young girl, when her father had first sent her off to train in the fighting arts. It wasn't a grand tradition, in fact it was so simple that it might not even be worthy of the title, but Cube had faithfully followed it through all the years since then, even after his mistress had reached adulthood and changed from the one being trained to the one doing the training.
The tradition was this; everyday that she spent training he would go out to her at midafternoon with a mug of strongly-brewed tea and a thick slice of brown bread slathered in butter and honey. In all those years he'd never once missed a day, even when he was so busy with housework that he could hardly find a minute to spare, even when the rain was pouring down fiercely enough that it seemed to be trying to flood the world, even when she'd gone as far as the northern mountains to practice her footwork in the roughest terrain she knew. He had always been careful to keep this small and quiet tradition, however far away she went.
Until now, when she was as close as their own yard.
It wasn't as though he'd ever been foolish enough to think that she might ever see him as anything more than her dedicated servant. She was his mistress, and to believe she could ever be anything more would be acting entirely beyond his position. He'd always known that one day another man would come and steal her away from their home, it was only a matter of time.
But he'd always assumed that it would be a human man. None would ever be worthy of her, but it would only be appropriate for one of the men in town who stared after her with awe-struck eyes to be the one who won her heart.
It was worse, somehow, that it wasn't. That, unlike almost every other human that he'd ever known, she didn't allow herself to be blinded by species when it came to love. He had always told himself that even if he lost his head and attempted to court her in spite of his station it wouldn't matter; even if he could find work elsewhere he could never change the fact that he was a demon. It was an excuse that kept him grounded, kept him from ever saying anything that he couldn't take back.
Now he wished that he'd at least tried, even just once. Because now, watching her guide the dragon boy from the desert through his forms with her eyes bright and a flush on her face that he knew wasn't entirely due to their strenuous exercise, he knew that any chance he might have had had passed him by. When he looked out the window at the two of them working together he knew that he was seeing the face of a woman in love, openly and unguardedly so.
The tea was prepared, though it had long since gone from strong to over-steeped. The honey had soaked all the way through the bread. But he couldn't stand to bring them out to her, to speak with her and pretend everything was the same as it had always been while staring that obvious mix of affection and pride and protectiveness in the face.
He'd never thought that he'd break their simple tradition. But he'd also never thought that doing something so simple would be so sure to break his heart.
Fandom: Princess Maker 2
Pairing: Dragon Youth/Olive, onesided Cube/Olive
Notes: For June Fic-a-Day
Requested by
tauruschick12 here (unfilled requested)They'd had a tradition that they'd followed ever since she was a young girl, when her father had first sent her off to train in the fighting arts. It wasn't a grand tradition, in fact it was so simple that it might not even be worthy of the title, but Cube had faithfully followed it through all the years since then, even after his mistress had reached adulthood and changed from the one being trained to the one doing the training.
The tradition was this; everyday that she spent training he would go out to her at midafternoon with a mug of strongly-brewed tea and a thick slice of brown bread slathered in butter and honey. In all those years he'd never once missed a day, even when he was so busy with housework that he could hardly find a minute to spare, even when the rain was pouring down fiercely enough that it seemed to be trying to flood the world, even when she'd gone as far as the northern mountains to practice her footwork in the roughest terrain she knew. He had always been careful to keep this small and quiet tradition, however far away she went.
Until now, when she was as close as their own yard.
It wasn't as though he'd ever been foolish enough to think that she might ever see him as anything more than her dedicated servant. She was his mistress, and to believe she could ever be anything more would be acting entirely beyond his position. He'd always known that one day another man would come and steal her away from their home, it was only a matter of time.
But he'd always assumed that it would be a human man. None would ever be worthy of her, but it would only be appropriate for one of the men in town who stared after her with awe-struck eyes to be the one who won her heart.
It was worse, somehow, that it wasn't. That, unlike almost every other human that he'd ever known, she didn't allow herself to be blinded by species when it came to love. He had always told himself that even if he lost his head and attempted to court her in spite of his station it wouldn't matter; even if he could find work elsewhere he could never change the fact that he was a demon. It was an excuse that kept him grounded, kept him from ever saying anything that he couldn't take back.
Now he wished that he'd at least tried, even just once. Because now, watching her guide the dragon boy from the desert through his forms with her eyes bright and a flush on her face that he knew wasn't entirely due to their strenuous exercise, he knew that any chance he might have had had passed him by. When he looked out the window at the two of them working together he knew that he was seeing the face of a woman in love, openly and unguardedly so.
The tea was prepared, though it had long since gone from strong to over-steeped. The honey had soaked all the way through the bread. But he couldn't stand to bring them out to her, to speak with her and pretend everything was the same as it had always been while staring that obvious mix of affection and pride and protectiveness in the face.
He'd never thought that he'd break their simple tradition. But he'd also never thought that doing something so simple would be so sure to break his heart.