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Tales of Vesperia, "Impressions" (Ioder+Flynn)
The prince has been rescued, but Flynn can't help feeling like he's still adrift. And it's his responsibility to bring him back. Right?
Contains spoilers only if you don't know who Ioder is yet, in which case, go back and play the game for another hour or so. Tinily angsty but also fluffy and hopeful. No warnings.
.impressions.
He was shaking, his thin shoulders curled inward and his knuckles white where they clutched at the blanket that Flynn had offered him to keep warm. His blond hair curled about his face, still dripping but finally starting to dry, but the rest of him was still soaked through, plastered to the skin.
Flynn couldn't stand looking at him like that. "Your Highness, please. Allow me to provide you with a change of clothes. If you stay in those wet--"
Ioder said nothing, but he shook his head, eyes closed, and Flynn was silenced as effectively as if it had been a bark of command.
The only person who was upset with the young prince was the prince himself. It had been a simple mission: secretly visiting the nobles of the council while in disguise, seeking to win their favor. A small number of knights had accompanied him, only three and dressed as civilians, so as not to call more attention to him. For his mission to have failed so utterly; to have been kidnapped, held hostage, rescued, all without even a shred of useful information to provide about his captors... He must have been frustrated. He must have been blaming himself.
Flynn understood all of that, and he knew that nothing he could do or say would make that disappointment go away. But he also knew that right now, an heir to the throne was in his hands -- was his responsibility. He couldn't just let Ioder sit there, punishing himself and developing hypothermia.
"Please," he repeated, gently. "I have plenty of clean spare uniforms. We have many young men around your build--"
"I will not take clothing away from your honorable knight recruits, Sir Flynn," Ioder said. His voice was still lingeringly thickened by strain and inhaled smoke and swallowed water, but it was clear and firm. It was a voice that brooked no further comment, and he guaranteed it by changing the topic, asking instead, "My archery tutor? Sir Alora?"
His heart sank a little more. "...We never did receive any communication from her, I'm afraid. We expected to find her with you." From Yuri's description of Ragou's basement, he had little doubt of what had become of Ioder's escorting knights after his visit had gone awry.
Ioder was silent. Flynn hastened to add, "I'll make sure to provide you with a new escort before you go, of course. You'll have every luxury my brigade can provide on your way back to the capital--"
"I cannot return to the capital until the trial is complete," Ioder murmured.
It was an understandable reaction, but Flynn steeled himself to disagree, drawing himself to his proper height. The prince was an heir to the throne, and bad enough that Lady Estellise was out running around and getting into trouble; to allow the prince to behave the same way...
But before he could say a word, Ioder straightened up as well, and gave him a smile, sunny and clear. Flynn was left a little dizzied by the sudden mood swing.
"I hope you will allow me to burden you a little while longer, Sir Flynn."
"You... You can just call me Flynn, Your Highness," he said, self-conscious.
"Then in that case, you must call me by my name as well."
Flynn flushed in spite of himself. "I couldn't."
Ioder didn't so much as blink at the refusal, observing, "Miss Estellise tells me that you are a friend of hers. How do you address her?"
He hesitated before murmuring, "I address her as Lady Estellise. But we've known each other for some time, and..."
"I hope that I may be considered a friend of yours as well, in the future, Sir Flynn. Flynn." Ioder placed a hand to his heart, smiling. "It seems like a good place to start, and it doesn't seem like too much to ask for -- to not be treated with more formality than the other candidate for the throne. Don't you agree?"
It was hard to believe that he was looking at a seventeen-year-old boy, with that serene smile and those clear eyes and that gentle, irrefutable logic. He respected the weight on his thin shoulders, what had been lost because of him and what might yet be gained; even in his private grief and frustration, he presented himself like royalty.
When Flynn had been seventeen he had been barely civilized. He had thought about little more than himself and his own interests. So focused on his dream, so self-involved, to the extent of resenting everyone who stood in his way, failing time and again to understand why Yuri might not want the same thing he had...
He paused, for a beat, and then said, "It simply seems disrespectful to address the future Emperor that way."
In his mind he apologized to Lady Estellise, but for the first time he believed in what the entire knighthood had decided as one to advocate.
"Ioder," the prince said, firmly.
And Flynn returned his smile. "Then, Master Ioder," he said, steady, "I must insist that you accept a change of clothing."
The younger man chuckled, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Lead the way," he said.
Contains spoilers only if you don't know who Ioder is yet, in which case, go back and play the game for another hour or so. Tinily angsty but also fluffy and hopeful. No warnings.
.impressions.
He was shaking, his thin shoulders curled inward and his knuckles white where they clutched at the blanket that Flynn had offered him to keep warm. His blond hair curled about his face, still dripping but finally starting to dry, but the rest of him was still soaked through, plastered to the skin.
Flynn couldn't stand looking at him like that. "Your Highness, please. Allow me to provide you with a change of clothes. If you stay in those wet--"
Ioder said nothing, but he shook his head, eyes closed, and Flynn was silenced as effectively as if it had been a bark of command.
The only person who was upset with the young prince was the prince himself. It had been a simple mission: secretly visiting the nobles of the council while in disguise, seeking to win their favor. A small number of knights had accompanied him, only three and dressed as civilians, so as not to call more attention to him. For his mission to have failed so utterly; to have been kidnapped, held hostage, rescued, all without even a shred of useful information to provide about his captors... He must have been frustrated. He must have been blaming himself.
Flynn understood all of that, and he knew that nothing he could do or say would make that disappointment go away. But he also knew that right now, an heir to the throne was in his hands -- was his responsibility. He couldn't just let Ioder sit there, punishing himself and developing hypothermia.
"Please," he repeated, gently. "I have plenty of clean spare uniforms. We have many young men around your build--"
"I will not take clothing away from your honorable knight recruits, Sir Flynn," Ioder said. His voice was still lingeringly thickened by strain and inhaled smoke and swallowed water, but it was clear and firm. It was a voice that brooked no further comment, and he guaranteed it by changing the topic, asking instead, "My archery tutor? Sir Alora?"
His heart sank a little more. "...We never did receive any communication from her, I'm afraid. We expected to find her with you." From Yuri's description of Ragou's basement, he had little doubt of what had become of Ioder's escorting knights after his visit had gone awry.
Ioder was silent. Flynn hastened to add, "I'll make sure to provide you with a new escort before you go, of course. You'll have every luxury my brigade can provide on your way back to the capital--"
"I cannot return to the capital until the trial is complete," Ioder murmured.
It was an understandable reaction, but Flynn steeled himself to disagree, drawing himself to his proper height. The prince was an heir to the throne, and bad enough that Lady Estellise was out running around and getting into trouble; to allow the prince to behave the same way...
But before he could say a word, Ioder straightened up as well, and gave him a smile, sunny and clear. Flynn was left a little dizzied by the sudden mood swing.
"I hope you will allow me to burden you a little while longer, Sir Flynn."
"You... You can just call me Flynn, Your Highness," he said, self-conscious.
"Then in that case, you must call me by my name as well."
Flynn flushed in spite of himself. "I couldn't."
Ioder didn't so much as blink at the refusal, observing, "Miss Estellise tells me that you are a friend of hers. How do you address her?"
He hesitated before murmuring, "I address her as Lady Estellise. But we've known each other for some time, and..."
"I hope that I may be considered a friend of yours as well, in the future, Sir Flynn. Flynn." Ioder placed a hand to his heart, smiling. "It seems like a good place to start, and it doesn't seem like too much to ask for -- to not be treated with more formality than the other candidate for the throne. Don't you agree?"
It was hard to believe that he was looking at a seventeen-year-old boy, with that serene smile and those clear eyes and that gentle, irrefutable logic. He respected the weight on his thin shoulders, what had been lost because of him and what might yet be gained; even in his private grief and frustration, he presented himself like royalty.
When Flynn had been seventeen he had been barely civilized. He had thought about little more than himself and his own interests. So focused on his dream, so self-involved, to the extent of resenting everyone who stood in his way, failing time and again to understand why Yuri might not want the same thing he had...
He paused, for a beat, and then said, "It simply seems disrespectful to address the future Emperor that way."
In his mind he apologized to Lady Estellise, but for the first time he believed in what the entire knighthood had decided as one to advocate.
"Ioder," the prince said, firmly.
And Flynn returned his smile. "Then, Master Ioder," he said, steady, "I must insist that you accept a change of clothing."
The younger man chuckled, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Lead the way," he said.