{we} used to rule the world {TYRIN}

[francisschiller]

It would be war.

He had held out for days, weeks even, hoping (but not praying—what would be the use of that anymore) that they would decide to escape it, that the Leonine would sail off into the sunset to wait the damn thing out.

It’s what the pirates in his childhood storybooks would have done. But, for all their treasure and their swashbuckling, the pirates he had read about in those stupid stories were lesser men than his pirate.

And so it would be war for them all. They would lose, probably. There was always the off chance that they might win—but even if they did, so many would fall. He would lose so many of the faces more family to him than his ‘family’ had ever been.

And he might lose the person he loved more than anything. That was the cruel part, really. The gods had seen fit to give him a miracle, a miracle named Tyrin Schiller—and now, in a desperate bid to save them, he might well lose that miracle.

He didn’t have to turn his head to know that the silver-haired pirate was behind him. He also didn’t have to speak a single word to know that Tyrin knew he was aware of his decision.

Francis spoke. “War, then?” It wasn’t a question. “Even being the world’s most wanted criminal, even with the bounty on your head being what it is, you are going to war. You’re risking all of our lives for a war that might not even be winnable. You’re abandoning the life you love to fight for gods you’ve never so much as prayed to.”

He turned, smiling into those sea-colored eyes he loved so much even as tears threatened to slip from his eyes. “It’s the right choice, if there is such a thing as the right choice in this stupid war. You’re a good man, Tyrin, for all that the Navy paints you as a demon.” He took a tentative step towards his Captain and lover, though he made no move to touch the other man. “As much as I hate this whole thing, you made the right choice. I’ll stand by you, of course—my fighting skills may be weak, but I’ll cut down every one of your enemies. I…I won’t lose you again, Tyrin.”

Though the Captain would never admit it, Francis knew he wasn’t sure of his decision. He was risking the lives of his crew for a stupid war that would not be quickly won—a war that might not even be won at all.

But it was not his position to question his Captain’s choice. With his decision to lead the faction of pirates dedicated to restoring the power of the dying gods, Tyrin Schiller had practically doubled his already astronomical number of enemies. It was now Francis’s duty—a duty he willingly accepted—to stand beside Tyrin, fighting with his beloved Captain until the very last.

It would be war for all of them. They would fight, and many of them would die. But Tyrin would not. Francis had decided this. Against all odds, he and Tyrin had found each other not once, but twice. They would never lose each other again. Francis would see to that.

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[tyrin]

Tyrin never wanted any of this. He’d been perfectly happy with his life for the first time that he could ever remember. It might seem odd that he was happy to be at the top of the Navy’s Most Wanted criminals list, but he was. It was a validation of what he’d been trying to do his entire life. His life had always been one big struggle to prove that being human was not an excuse to be weak. Being at the top of the list was proof of his strength. Staying there for a good year, even with all the nonhumans causing their own trouble and gunning for his blood, was even more satisfying to the pirate captain.

Plus, besides having finally achieved what he’d been wanting his whole life, he’d come a long way from the lonely asshole he’d been in his early years of being captain. Then, he’d pushed anyone and everyone away, keeping them all at arm’s length to keep from being held back by what he’d seen as stupid, unnecessary relationships. And he’d turned to drink to deal with it. Though he hadn’t thought so at the time, looking back, his life had been pretty damn shitty then. He’d been slowly destroying himself, but in complete denial about that fact. Funny how hindsight could change things so much. At the time, he hadn’t seen any other way to be. Getting attached to someone seemed like too much of a weakness, one he couldn’t afford to show if he was going to be the strongest human in history.

But then had come Francis. Francis had changed everything. Tyrin couldn’t even begin to imagine where he would be today if the kid hadn’t goofed his way onto Tyrin’s crew six years ago. Probably dead. Almost certainly dead, actually, one way or another. If not killed by another pirate or captured by the Navy, he would have probably drunk himself to death. Pathetic, really. But Tyrin didn’t make a habit of thinking about what could have been. All the times he could have died. All the times he could have lost everything. Because he hadn’t. Francis had tripped down the dock that day, in his ridiculous clothes, and it had changed Tyrin’s whole life.

And now, now that he’d finally begun to settle into being the most wanted pirate, into the idea of being not only in love with Francis, but getting ready to marry him… Now the world had decided it was a grand time to go to hell in a handbasket. The gods were dying, and the Navy was on the move to eradicate all of the pirates once and for all.

Tyrin had thought long and hard about what to do. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, even for the usually decisive captain. What he decided could result in not only his own death, but also that of his entire crew. And Francis. He couldn’t make a decision like that lightly. It was way more responsibility than he had ever wanted; he was happy just leading his ship. But he knew that his reputation would hold a lot of sway in the future of the world, and ultimately he had decided he couldn’t run away from that. He didn’t want the power of the gods, but neither did he want the Navy to get it. Just waiting for the gods to die and hoping the Navy wouldn’t find the artifact in time didn’t seem the right thing to do, either. He was pretty sure someone would find the answer before the gods finally disappeared from the world.

So, after almost a week of not sleeping much while he thought the problem over, he’d ultimately decided to try and find a way to revive the gods. He just wanted the world to go back to the way it had been before, and that seemed like the best way to do it.

His decision made (once he made a decision, Tyrin Schiller never second-guessed himself unless given a damn good reason. Things were a lot simpler that way), Tyrin finally let himself out of his cabin, where he’d been holed up for the last few hours determined to make said decision, and headed up onto the deck. The fresh air felt good as it flowed across the deck of his Leonine. He nodded to a crew member who swung past in the rigging, his sea-colored eyes searching the deck for the one person he needed to talk to. The only thing that mattered now was if he had the support of the only person in the world he truly trusted. Maybe that was weak – he kept it to himself, in any case – but it was true. The one time he’d lost Francis’ support before, the way it had affected him had been… unnerving. He wanted to know from the start this time if the kid was behind him in this whole thing or not.

He stopped behind Francis, who was standing at the edge of the deck looking out over the clouds below them. Without him saying anything, not only did his fiancé seem to realize Tyrin was there, he also somehow knew what the pirate captain had decided. Tyrin didn’t question it, meeting Francis’ blue eyes silently as the kid turned to face him, listening to the other man speak for a moment.

An incredible wave of relief spread through Tyrin with the knowledge that Francis was behind him in his decision. The rest of the world could go fuck themselves. He closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm around Francis’ waist, kissing him briefly, but by no means chastely, not particularly caring if the crew saw. ”You’re right. You won’t.” He’d promised himself a long time ago that he would never put Francis through that again, and he’d meant it. He still did.

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Tagged: Frahnics :u
Words: 981 $$ added

[/blockquote]

[francisschiller]

He allowed himself a brief, soft smile—he had a feeling there would be little time for idle happiness in the weeks and months to come—and reciprocated his lover’s affectionate gesture, wrapping his own arm around the taller man’s waist. He leaned into the brief kiss, like Tyrin, not caring who happened to see or what they happened to think about it. Who knew how much time they had left together, after all? As busy and stressed out as they were both going to be, damned if Francis wasn’t going to make the most of every minute he had left with his beloved Captain.

Leaning slightly against the other man’s shoulder (a gesture that might have been called something like snuggling or cuddling, except that they were dangerous wanted pirates and they simply did not use such words, ever) Francis turned his gaze away from Tyrin, looking back out at the open sky.

“Where do we start, then?” he asked. He was pretty sure Tyrin didn’t have a solid plan yet, and was speaking more for the purpose of suggesting various options than to hear any definite answer from the other man. “Do we focus on fighting the Navy? On getting other pirate crews to join us? Or do we go search for that island thing that everyone’s been talking about?”

He paused, his intense gaze scanning the horizon. He had a feeling that was going to be what Tyrin suggested they do. It would be a crazy, insane task. From what he had picked up via gossip in various ports, not even the priests of the gods themselves knew where the mysterious island was supposed to be—or if it even really existed, and wasn’t just some myth or legend passed down through the generations.

“Finding the damn thing will be one hell of a wild goose chase,” the brunette pirate continued. He gestured at the horizon with his free hand. “It could be anywhere in the entire world, after all. In my opinion, it’ll be a miracle if anyone finds it. Not, of course, that I don’t believe in miracles—how can I not, when there’s one standing right next to me?” He turned to grin at Tyrin, using the same hand he had just gestured with to brush the shaggy silver bangs out of his fiancé’s eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that Tyrin’s hair was getting awfully long, and was badly in need of trimming. Of course, it would probably take weeks of coaxing before Tyrin finally agreed to let his first mate take a knife to his beloved hair.

As he finished brushing the wayward silver strands back behind his lover’s ear, he lowered his hand to once again hang loosely at his side. As he did, he noticed a brief flash of silver as the ring he wore on his fourth finger glinted in the brilliant sunlight. Though Francis wasn’t conscious of the fact, the expression on his face turned into a sad, wistful smile.

“Hey, guess there’s a silver lining to this cloud of everything-going-to-hell after all,” he remarked, trying (and most likely failing) to keep his tone light. “Guess you get to escape commitment for a little longer, eh? After all, with all the hell that’ll be breaking loose we’ll probably have to postpone the wedding…maybe indefinitely…” He tried to pretend that his voice hadn’t trailed off sadly at the end of that sentence, but it most definitely had.

Everything had been so perfect. He had been getting ready to marry the love of his life—and now, he didn’t even know if they had one day left to spend together, let alone a lifetime.

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[tyrin]

How many times had they stood like this in the past six years? Their arms around each other’s waists, the warm and familiar weight of Francis leaning ever so slightly on him. Once upon a time, Tyrin had been the type to reject any sort of touch, especially one of affection. One of the many ways he’d isolated himself from the people around him, which had been his way of coping with his self-imposed lonerdom. He hadn’t wanted to seem like he was relying on anyone else for anything, even something as simple as comfort.

But he’d given up on that after meeting Francis. It hadn’t been easy for Tyrin, having his entire way of seeing the world flipped upside down and turned inside out by the merchant’s son’s presence in his life. He’d been forced to face a lot of the things he’d been ignoring or pushing to the side for most of his life. His alcoholism, for one. And the way he avoided half of his problems for fear of them, for another. For someone who purported to be brave, he’d come to realize that he’d been afraid of a lot of shit when he was younger. It was nice to have put that behind him finally. And he had Francis to thank for that.

Tyrin mused over his answer to Francis’ question for a minute or two, only vaguely listening to what the kid was saying as he kept speaking. It was the ultimate question, after all. Now that he’d decided what his ultimate goal was, he had to figure out how to accomplish it. There were pros and cons to any given option. He didn’t particularly want to put his focus on fighting the Navy; they had already stepped up their game in searching for him and other notorious pirates, and going looking for trouble was more than likely going to backfire on him. They would be expecting an attack, and head-to-head, the Leonine would more than likely lose. She was small and fast, relying on speed and surprise to win battles. A straight on fight was a bad idea.

Getting other crews to join him didn’t sound too good, either. He didn’t want to be the leader of some huge pirate force. He’d chosen his own path, and that of his ship, but he didn’t give a crap beyond that. He wasn’t interested in recruiting. That was a Navy thing.

That left searching for the island himself, which seemed like the best option to Tyrin. They had an advantage over sea-ships in that they could travel a great deal faster and see a lot more of the area over which they were flying. And that way, he would be on the move constantly and make himself harder to find, rather than butting head directly with the Navy. Tyrin nodded to himself. ”We’ll find it,” he said absently. ”The Leonine is fast and we’ve got some sharp eyes. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Francis’ hand brushing the hair out of his face brought the pirate captain’s attention back to the present, just in time to see the expression on his lover’s face turn into a sad sort of smile. Tyrin tightened his arm around Francis’ waist as he listened to his first mate. He was probably right. The shit was going to hit the fan, and soon. But at the same time… that same uncertainty made Tyrin want to do exactly the opposite of what Francis had said would have to happen. Maybe even just to spite whatever higher power was responsible for throwing a wrench into the works. The shit was about to hit the fan… but it hadn’t yet. They still had today, at least.

”Nah,” he said slowly, his sea-colored eyes flickering down to meet Francis’ blue ones. ”I’d really rather not put it off. In fact… let’s get married today.” No time like the present, right?

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Tagged: Frahnics :u
Words: 653 $$ added

[/blockquote]

[francisschiller]

For several seconds—close to a minute, actually—Francis’s brain absolutely refused to process what the Captain had just said. Once it finally accepted that he had indeed spoken, it insisted that Tyrin had actually said something far more mundane, probably something about the war and the plan he had just announced to search out the mythical “island of the gods” rather than fighting the navy or gathering pirate allies. After all, there was no earthly possibility that the great Tyrin Schiller had just asked Francis to marry him today.

“T-today?” he stammered, once again sounding (if briefly) like the insecure, nervous, awkward boy he had been all those years ago when he had first stepped aboard the sky ship Leonine and met its captain. “Do…do you mean like…NOW?”

Francis began doing what it was that he usually did when he was nervous or confused: he ranted, saying absolutely every single word that came into his mind. “Well, I mean, we technically could do that. Like I told you, I did a bunch of research on this and all a marriage on a sky ship requires is that the Captain perform the ceremony, and since that’s, well, you, we wouldn’t need anyone else to participate or do anything or anything like that, so yeah I guess we could, you know…..I mean, that is…” He trailed off, realizing how little sense he was making and that he was probably annoying his fiancé. Francis might (finally) be convinced that Tyrin Schiller did indeed love him, but he also realized that that didn’t mean the other man liked his tendency to go off on random tangents and speak using far too many words.

“Yes. I mean, if you did indeed ask me to marry you today, and not say something completely unrelated about the war or the island like part of my brain is still trying to convince itself that you did, then yes. Yes, let’s get married today. No, let’s get married right now!” Suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter so much to Francis that it would be war, that they were being catapulted headlong into a conflict that it was quite possible none of them would survive, to revive gods they barely believed in.

Because he would not be going into this war as Francis, a boy with only one name ever since he abandoned the Tennenbaum family name. He would be going into this war as Francis Schiller, husband to the greatest and most feared pirate in the whole entire world.

He wrapped his arms even tighter around Tyrin’s waist, marveling how far they had come. Years ago, when they had first entered a relationship with one another, he could barely convince Tyrin to touch him when there were other people around. Now, here they were—on the deck of the Leonine, arms wrapped around each other in a position that had come to be both familiar and comforting to both of them, and about to be married on that exact same deck of the ship they both loved.

It would be a complete and utter lie were Francis to say that he was not, at that current moment, as giddy as a schoolgirl about to go to her first dance. He was about to get married! To the love of his life, no less.

A thought like that made any war worthwhile.

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[tyrin]

Tyrin was hard-pressed to suppress a grin at the dumbfounded look that came onto his lover’s face at his suggestion. He had to admit, it was a pretty cute expression. Francis’ big blue eyes got even bigger, and his mouth hung open just slightly as he stared up at Tyrin. The pirate captain just waited patiently for Francis to process what he’d said, the slightest of smiles quirking the corner of his mouth. He didn’t blame Francis for being surprised when he had one of his rare romantic moments. They didn’t exactly come along very often, and both of them knew that. The first human to get to the top of the Navy’s most wanted list couldn’t afford to be romantic very often, and he didn’t have the instinct for it anyway.

He nodded patiently as Francis finally stammered out a couple of words. ”Yes, today,” he repeated, squeezing Francis’ waist gently. ”And yes, now.” Why wait? Tyrin had finished most of the work he’d been meaning to do while he’d thought over his decision, and they could be attacked at any moment. Now was as good a time as any. Better than most, in Tyrin’s opinion.

The pirate captain waited again while Francis babbled, listening just enough to get the gist of it. He didn’t mind the other’s tendency to rant when he got confused or excited, but he’d long since stopped trying to catch every word. Francis talked way too fast for that to go well. So Tyrin settled for catching every third word or so and got the general idea of what he was saying. Not that it was hard in this case to guess what the other was babbling about.

Tyrin still remembered the day Francis had asked him to marry him. He wasn’t certain he would have been as open to the idea if it had involved getting married in a church or something, if churches would even marry two men. He’d never really been one for that sort of thing. But he’d been more than willing to agree knowing that he didn’t even have to leave the Leonine. Sure, he had initially agreed mostly for Francis’ sake (not that he had anything against it, he just hadn’t entirely seen the merits of it at first), but he’d found over the ensuing months that he was actually a bit excited himself about the prospects of being married to the love of his life. Not that he would ever, ever admit as much out loud. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

”Right, then,” Tyrin said as Francis finished his rant, using the arm he currently had around the other’s waist to pull the younger pirate with him as he headed down belowdecks. Tyrin was perfectly comfortable with public displays of affection around the crew now, but he wanted this to be between him and Francis, if at all possible. He wasn’t sure he could explain why. It just… felt like something that ought to be between them. Not secret, but private.

He brought Francis into the cabin they shared, nudging the door shut behind them with his foot, and spun to face his fiancé. ”So. How do we do this?” He didn’t know the whole speech bit that priests did at normal weddings, so he hoped that wasn’t a necessary part of it. He doubted it. All he knew about the process was that, apparently, since it was his ship, he had the authority to marry whoever the hell he wanted. Including himself. He didn’t actually know how to go about it, though. It wasn’t exactly his area of expertise, after all. But he figured Francis knew. The kid had done a ton of research about it. No doubt he knew exactly what to do.

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Tagged: Frahnics :u
Words: 631 $$ added

[/blockquote]

[francisschiller]

Francis had indeed read up on the process of shipboard marriage. He’d learned everything that he could about it as he prepared for the extremely daunting task of proposing to Tyrin. There weren’t that many books aboard the Leonine, but he’d read every single one with the goal of learning as much as humanly possible. (And to delay the proposal itself, if he was going to be completely honest, though in retrospect that seemed a little silly, given how easily Tyrin had agreed).

But now that the day was here, he was actually marrying Tyrin, his mind blanked, and he once again began one of his characteristic rants. “Well of course it’s nothing at all like one of those big fancy merchant weddings, which is a pretty good thing because I figured that you wouldn’t agree to it if it was, and anyway those are really stupid anyway with all of their pointless rituals that nobody remembers the significance of anymore…”

He cut himself off (for once). This was one of the biggest days of his life, and he wasn’t going to ruin it by acting like a five year old child who just got his first stuffed animal.

“Anyway, sorry, rant done,” he continued, wondering if Tyrin would notice or comment on his unusual instance of maturity. “The process is very simple, actually. We take off our rings, then the person officiating the ceremony—that’s the captain, I mean, that’s you—asks each of the participants if they agree to accept the other as their lawful husband, and stay with them through everything—sickness and health and life and death and a bunch of other stuff I can’t really remember right now. He asks the groom first—that’d be you, in this case, on account of how you’re higher in rank—and the groom says “I do” and then he asks the bride, which I guess is me, and they say “I do” as well. And then…” the brunette pirate blushed furiously, as this next bit was the part of weddings he’d always found so gloriously romantic, and he still couldn’t believe was actually happening to him of all people, “they put the rings back on each other’s fingers, and the person leading the ceremony says, You may kiss the bride, though I guess it would be groom in this case since I’m not a girl. And…and then they go on their honeymoon and do stuff.” His blush darkened. “Like, you know, stuff. Stuff married couples do.”

A year ago—heck, even six months ago—Francis would have not been able to look at Tyrin as he explained what was about to happen. But now, he understood that things were different. They were at war, and the happiness that they had now might not last through the next week, the next day, or even the next hour. But for now, none of that seemed to matter—because if he died tomorrow, he would be dying as Francis Schiller.

And so he looked Tyrin in the eyes, gracing his soon to be husband with the most brilliant smile he could possibly give. Without saying so much as a single word, he attempted to communicate everything he was feeling in that exact moment. How much he loved Tyrin, how wonderful his life was simply because Tyrin was in it, and how grateful he was that he was marrying Tyrin, able to declare to the entire world with just a simple introduction how thoroughly and irrevocably he belonged to the silver-haired man.

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[tyrin]

A slightly sheepish smirk quirked the corner of Tyrin’s mouth at the first bit of Francis’ mouth. The kid knew him all too well; he had never thought of himself as the marriage type, mostly because the idea of having some huge fancy wedding really didn’t appeal to him. He wasn’t the sort of guy who wanted to put that part of his life on display for anybody. Plus, he didn’t exactly have family that he would want to come to a wedding. His father was an abusive drunk who’d never given Tyrin a damn thing besides bruises and broken bones, and his mother had died giving birth to Tyrin’s younger brother. In fact, Marcus was the only person in his family Tyrin kept contact with. Even if he was predisposed to that sort of sentimental crap, which he wasn’t, he didn’t particularly want that sort of family shit to be brought to light.

Plus, Tyrin just didn’t believe in all of that shit. Most weddings had a lot of old traditions or religious shit surrounding them, which wasn’t something he was interested in. One of the things he’d never had any patience for was wasting time with rituals or traditions that meant jack shit to the people involved in them. It was the same reason he didn’t bother with small talk or stupid pleasantries. He had little enough time on this earth as it was, something he was always all too aware of. He didn’t want to waste it with idiocy like that.

But this way, when it was just between him and Francis, something private that could be just between the two of them… that was different. When he’d realized how much it meant to Francis to have it between them, Tyrin had been perfectly happy to agree. And, over the course of just that conversation (and even more so in the months that had gone by between that day and this one), he’d found that he was actually a bit excited for it. Not that he would ever admit it, seeing as he did have a reputation to maintain, but he was pretty sure Francis knew it. Somewhere way deep down inside, Tyrin did have the smallest of romantic sides, and the idea of being married to the one person he’d ever really loved had grown on him to the point where he was almost as eager as Francis. And whereas a few years ago he would have beaten such a silly romantic notion down mercilessly to keep from showing any signs of weakness, Francis had changed him enough that now, he was content to keep it between the two of them.

Tyrin snorted slightly as Francis finished explaining. ”Kid, if you can’t remember the whole thing, how am I supposed to?” He’d read a lot fewer romance novels than his fiancé had, after all. He wasn’t sure he’d ever known how weddings worked, or if he had, he’d forgotten a long time ago. He didn’t exactly have the brain space for that, anyway. He had much better things to think about.

He paused for a moment, thinking about what little he did know about the subject. ”Don’t some people make up their own vows?” he asked after a moment, actually sounding uncertain for once. He thought he had heard something about that in the past, though he wasn’t sure how accurate it was. He wasn’t given to being romantic, but if they were going to do this, he would much rather do it with his own words, no matter how awkward he might feel saying them, than with the same words that millions of other people had said before. But he wasn’t sure how that worked.

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Tagged: Frahnics :u
Words: 620 $$ added

[/blockquote]

[francisschiller]

Francis thought about Tyrin’s question carefully. He’d been to a lot of weddings in his life, partially because they were very important to the merchant class (arranged marriages like his own would have been, intended to secure alliances and seal business deals and having little to nothing to do with love) but partially because he had always loved them. Going to large numbers of very fancy weddings was one of the few things he had liked about being the son of a prosperous merchant. And sure, he had dreamed about one of those—a hall full of flowers, a pretty girl in a white dress, solid gold dishes and himself in a peacock blue suit—but…well, this was better.

Sure, he’d never predicted that it would turn out like this, but he’d begun to realize how much better, how much more genuine, this would be. Given a choice, he would take the wooden cabin, the slight motion of the ship as it flew through a patch of turbulent air, the private ceremony and the amazing man currently standing next to him over any gilded cathedral, flowery suit or vapidly pretty but airheaded girl.

He smiled up at Tyrin. “We’re pirates,” he reminded the other, quoting one of Tyrin’s own favorite sayings back at him. “We can do whatever the hell we want. And that includes making up our wedding vows. Merchants would never do that, of course, but who cares about them? I’ve…” he blushed a dark red, slightly embarrassed to admit this fact, “I’ve read every book about marriage that I could find. I’ve basically been obsessed with it since I was a child. And from what I gather, the only part of the ceremony that has to be performed word for word is whoever’s officiating—that’s you, remember—asking us if we take each other to be our husbands, and then we have to answer with ‘I do’. But other than that, I’m pretty sure you can make up your own vows. So yeah, go ahead and say whatever you want.”

The pirate was suddenly conscious of how fast his heart was racing and how bright red his face had become. It was finally sinking in that this was it—this was the moment he had been waiting for his entire life. It was his wedding day.

He gave his soon to be husband yet another affectionate smile. “Sorry if I’m rambling. I guess I just can’t believe that this is actually happening. You know, that my childhood dream is finally coming true…it’s my wedding day! I’m actually getting married!” He made no attempt to hide his large, childish smile of pure joy. He couldn’t ever remember being this happy.

[tyrin]

Phew. So he didn't have to try and memorize all that normal wedding claptrap. That was a relief. Tyrin was hardly one to follow the rules (obviously, considering what he was doing with his life), but in this case, if Francis had told him to, he would have. Not because he gave a flying fuck about the 'sanctity of marriage' - the priests were welcome to keep that particular piece of religious drivel, as far as Tyrin was concerned - but because he wanted to do this right, for Francis' sake. He'd put the kid through hell multiple times over, some intentional and some not, and he wanted this one thing to be perfect. For Francis. He owed the kid that much.

Hell, Tyrin thought with the tiniest pang of guilt, he'd practically shattered the kid's dreams when he first came aboard, and he'd done it with gusto. There was no doubt in Tyrin's mind that the kid was better off for it - going through life with the sort of delusions Francis had had was idiotic at best and dangerous at worst - but, as always, looking back at the man he had been before Francis turned his life around dragged up feelings of shame and guilt that Tyrin doubted he'd ever be entirely free of.

But, for now, he pushed them firmly aside. Now wasn't the time to deal with those kinds of feelings. He would, sooner or later - he was done hiding from his problems, he'd decided long since - but not now. He didn't want that sort of thing to taint this, for him or for Francis. It was in the past; he wasn't going to let it affect his present or his future. Instead, he flashed Francis a grin that was uncommonly sincere for the pirate captain, who tended more towards sardonic or mocking smirks rather than genuine expressions. He was really, truly happy. One of the few such moments that the ambitious man could remember having in his lifetime, almost all of which centered around Francis (the day he’d become captain was in there, too, but nowhere near as potent a memory). It didn’t matter that they were about to get embroiled in a conflict Tyrin had never wanted to be a part of. It didn’t matter that they might very well be dead in a week, or rotting in the Navy’s deepest dungeon. For the moment, none of it mattered, except the look in Francis’ big blue eyes as he beamed up at Tyrin.

For that look, Tyrin would take on the whole world.

A very slight wry tinge crept into his expression as he gently brushed a bit of his lover’s messy brown hair out of his eyes. ”Well, it’s nice to hear I haven’t ruined all of your childhood dreams,” he said, his tone just light enough to assure Francis that he was joking. Mostly. He leaned down and kissed Francis with a tenderness that would surprise most who knew the pirate captain. It was a short kiss, and far from the deepest they had had, but full of the feelings Tyrin hid around others. The ones he couldn’t bring himself to show to anyone but the one man he trusted more than anyone in the world.

He pulled back after a moment and took Francis’ hand gently, sliding the ring off the other’s finger. He slid his own ring off as well and set them down side by side on the desk beside the two men; his closer to Francis and vice versa. The two were almost identical, though Tyrin’s was a bit bigger to better fit his finger. The inside of the bands glinted with the same deep blue color as the sky Tyrin could see out of his window (the same color, he thought privately, as Francis’ eyes).

Tyrin looked back at Francis, a slight smile on his face. ”So, uh… who goes first?”

---

Tagged: Frahnics ouo
Words: 657 $$ added

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[francisschiller]

“One would think you’re stalling, love” he informed the taller pirate affectionately. “Who would think that the brave Tyrin Schiller could be made into a shaking schoolboy at the thought of a little wedding, eh?” His smirk softened into a genuine smile. As much as he did enjoy teasing Tyrin, he also had to respect the fact that his soon to be husband was doing something he never otherwise would have considered doing, and all for Francis’s sake. He really did appreciate it. “But I’ll go first, since I figure I’ve got at least a little more knowledge of how these things are supposed to go.” He thought ruefully of the hundred plus wedding speeches he had written as a child, during the many long, boring hours he had been locked in his room by his mother and father for some slight or another. Who would have thought, after all that, that he’d throw them all out and improvise his wedding vows on the spot?

But improvise he did. Haltingly, slowly, stumbling over words, his merchant-bred eloquence deserting him as he attempted to explain to Tyrin just how much this moment meant to him, the pirate called Francis spoke his wedding vows.

“Funny you should speak of ruining my childhood dreams, Tyrin…because that’s exactly what you did. Crushed them, destroyed them, turned them upside down and rebuilt something beautiful out of the ruins. Showed me that piracy was nothing like the fairy tale adventure I had dreamed of. Showed me that it was harsh and cruel and brutal and involved far more deck-swabbing than swashbuckling.” He shot Tyrin a brilliant smile, hoping the other understood that he was teasing.
His tone now far more serious, Francis continued. “And taught me love. Taught me that even in the one subject I thought myself an ace, I knew nothing. I thought love was what the merchant folk name courtship—letters and flowers and poetry, promises you don’t intend to keep, pretty airheaded girls in lace dresses and cavalier princes in calf-leather boots. And…and I was wrong. Was I ever wrong.”

“Love—real love, love as you’ve shown to me, is fighting by your loved one’s side. Protecting his back. Taking insults and slaps and sword cuts and arrows for him. Helping him claw his way inch by bitter inch to the top, and once he’s reached it, standing at his back and kicking down anyone who would challenge his position—regardless of the fact that many of these people are the ones you once called ‘family’. Love has more to do with blood and sweat” he smirked, hoping Tyrin would catch the double meaning “than roses and perfume. More to do with swords than sonnets, and much more to do with trusting and actually respecting one another than admiring one another from afar. You…gods, Tyrin, you’ve shown me more of true love in a single glance after a hard-won fight than in the thousands of romance novels that lined my former mother’s bookshelves.”

He broke off, then, flushing a deep scarlet with embarrassment. “Sorry. Rambled on a bit there. Like I tend to do. You know. Er. Sorry. Anyway, what I was trying to say is…I love you, Tyrin, and I can’t wait to walk onto deck tomorrow and hear the crew address me as First Mate Schiller.” Thoroughly embarrassed, he looked down, refusing to meet Tyrin’s eyes.

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[tyrin]

”’Shaking schoolboy’ might be a bit of an exaggeration, y’know,” Tyrin half-grumbled, though his tone was far from serious. It was true enough that the pirate captain was nervous. More nervous than he’d been in a very long time, about anything. Maybe more than he had ever been in his life. Not because he was worried about some adverse reaction from Francis; he knew the kid better than that. But even knowing that, Tyrin couldn’t help but be somewhat nervous about giving his vow. As disdainful as he was of the dumbass ‘traditional’ vows, they would have been a hell of a lot easier.

The problem was that Tyrin had never been good with words. Not when he was little, and certainly not now. Words had never been the way he chose to communicate the things that meant the most to him; when he really wanted to get something across, words had always failed him. They were so easy to mix up, to stumble over, and worst of all, to make up. It was so easy to lie when it was just words. He’d figured that out very early on in his life. So, for as long as he could remember, when Tyrin had something he really wanted to communicate, he did so with actions. He didn’t argue with people who thought he was weak because he was human; he fought them and showed them that he wasn’t. Even with Francis, who had helped him open up more than he could ever remember doing in the past, he still was far more comfortable getting his feelings across in a kiss, or just a look after a hard-won fight. Francis understood those more and more as time went on.

Even though he knew with almost complete certainty that Francis wouldn’t react badly one way or another, Tyrin was still worried he was going to fuck this up. He didn’t want to disappoint Francis, not when he was doing all of this mostly for the kid’s sake. All he could do was give it his best shot, and that was what he intended to do.

First, though, Tyrin forced the nagging nervousness in his stomach down, shoving the emotion aside for a moment, and listened as Francis spoke. A weird sort of feeling started up in Tyrin’s chest as he stood there quietly, taking in all of what his almost-husband was saying with an intensity that suggested he might be trying to commit it all to memory (he wasn’t, but he might as well have been). His bright green eyes remained fixed on Francis’ face as the former merchant talked, his expression betraying very little of the weird fluttering warmth that had started up in his chest and slowly spread to his entire body.

Once the other had finished, Tyrin gently took hold of Francis’ chin and lifted his head just enough so that Tyrin could catch his eyes again. He wasn’t going to do this halfway, wasn’t going to take the easy way out. Even if the words came out all wrong, he wanted Francis to be able to see the truth of it in his face. He’d always been good at that. Once he’d caught the other’s eyes, his hand slid up lightly to brush a bit of Francis’ moptop hair out of his face. Tyrin managed a slight smile, then took a very deep breath, let it out slowly, and began.

” For most of my life,”, he began, voice steadier than he would have expected, ” I thought I was going to be alone. I thought that was the way it had to be; I decided I had to be alone to be strong. And I had to be strong, because otherwise the whole damn world was gonna walk all over me and forget me as soon as I died.” He paused, and the slightest of wry looks crossed his face. ”That much is still true. But I thought that, in order to keep that from happening, I had to shut myself off from everyone. I couldn't let myself care, because that was a way to let weakness in.” But this wasn’t about him. This was about Francis. He pushed himself back on track, realizing as he did that he was rambling just as much as Francis ever did. Probably nerves.

His eyes flickered away for a moment, then back to meet Francis’ again. ”And then you came along, with your silly clothes and storybook dreams. The most ridiculous person I'd ever met.” Another small grin quirked the corners of his mouth before disappearing again. ”I never thought you'd get very far; a couple of days in this life and you'd go running back to your cozy merchant life without a second thought. And when you didn't... I think that's when it started. Really started.”

Tyrin quashed the urge to pace, as he normally did when dealing with as much emotion as he currently was, and continued, ” I started thinking. You seemed so weak to me, so how was it that you could keep going through what we put you through? It took me a long time to figure it out. To see your strength, because it was - is - so different than mine. You showed me that strength isn't about being alone, or acting like a complete jackass all the time. You forced me to face the fact that I wasn't strong. I was weak, because I wasn't taking chances. I was protecting myself, and using my drinking as a crutch.” He almost cut himself off before the next sentence, but it spilled out despite that. He’d started, now, and the words wouldn’t stop. ”I hated you, a little, for forcing me to see that. But…”

He took one of Francis’ hands into his, feeling the other’s calluses against his own work-roughened skin, and gave it a squeeze. ”When you showed up that day, I thought I was gonna be the one teaching you the harsh realities of the world. And maybe I did. But you showed me a hell of a lot more than that.” He swallowed, never breaking eye contact with Francis, and plowed onward, ”You showed me how to trust. Challenged me to be braver, stronger, better than I was before. Because of you, I’m a hell of a lot better man than I could be on my own.”

An almost disbelieving smile crept its way onto his face then, as his hand tightened around Francis’. ”And I’m happy, Francis. Even with all of this shit about to rain down on our heads, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Than I ever thought I would be. I never thought I was meant to be happy, but you’ve shown me I was wrong about that, too.”

He let out a slight laugh. ”I think I just beat you for all-time rambling champ.” His hand, which had been lingering somewhere in the vicinity of Francis’ cheek, tucked another strand of wayward hair behind the brunette’s ear. ”What I’m trying to say with all this is… Thank you. There’s no one in the world I would rather have watching my back.” He didn’t know if it was kosher to do at this point in a wedding, but he didn’t much care. He wrapped one arm around his love’s waist and the other around his narrow shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace. He pressed his face into Francis’ hair for a brief moment, taking in the scent that had come to signify home to the pirate captain, then bent his head down to speak into the other’s ear. ”Whatever happens after today, remember this. This moment. And remember that I love you more than I can ever put into words, and nothing is ever going to change that.”

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Tagged: Francis~~
Words: 1303 $$ added
Notes: So this took me bloody forever, but I think it was worth it. C:

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[francisschiller]

Francis had hoped to get through the ceremony without tears, but the more realistic part of him had pointed out that that was a pretty unlikely occurrence.

It had been right. Giant, messy tears welled up at the corners of his big blue eyes. He blinked in an attempt to clear them away, but of course that just sent them streaming down his face. He realized that he probably looked about five years old right now, but for once he didn’t care. The days when he was certain that every action would lose him Tyrin’s affection were over. He had finally come to accept that the ring on his finger did mean that they were together, engaged even, and he wasn’t going to wake up back in bed at his former home, discovering that it had all been just a crazy life.

“Would it be too cliché to tell you that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me?” he asked, his voice raspy with phlegm. “But then again, I think every word out of your mouth is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me. Even when you yell. You’re very attractive when you’re angry, did you…”

He cut himself off, something it had taken months (years, if he was going to be honest with himself) to learn to do. This was a wedding, not the World Ranting Championship. And beyond that, it was his wedding, and there were still things to do before they could close the ceremony and move on to the….well, honeymoon.

As pleasant as it was, he wriggled out of Tyrin’s arms. Without once taking his eyes off of his beloved Captain, the shorter pirate picked up Tyrin’s ring from where it lay on the desk. He could tell without looking which of the two rings was the Captain’s—it was larger, for one, but it was also more worn, with several more scratches. (Francis would never admit to Tyrin to keeping his ring regularly polished and buffed. It was one of the few holdovers from his former fancy-boy lifestyle, and he knew Tyrin would tease him for it.)

Still without breaking the eye contact, he slipped the ring onto the callused fourth finger of Tyrin’s left hand. He held the hand in his own for several moments, enjoying the familiar feel of rough skin, weathered by sun and hard work into a consistency more like old leather than flesh, between his own, only slightly smoother hands. His voice cracking slightly from nerves, he said eight words: “Tyrin Schiller, I take you as my husband,” He was pretty sure that sounded highly stupid, and that there were supposed to be a few more ‘thees’ and ‘thous’ and invocations of the law, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what else he was supposed to say. He blushed, feeling like a kid who has forgotten his homework.

Feeling like something more needed to be said, he added two more words. “…Thank you,” he said, not sure exactly what he was thanking Tyrin for. The vows, maybe—he knew a speech like that wasn’t easy for the silver haired Captain. Agreeing to this whole thing, maybe. But, more likely, it was just a ‘thank you’ unattached to a particular thing Tyrin had done or said. The unspoken part of the phrase was something along the lines of “thank you for everything” or even “thank you for being Tyrin”.

He allowed his (probably ridiculously sappy and lovestruck) expression to change into a sharp-edged smirk he had picked up from Tyrin. “Almost time for your favorite part of all this. You’ve just got to put my ring on, and declare us married by your authority as Captain of this ship, and then…well, the person officiating the ceremony is supposed to say ‘You may now kiss the groom,’ since I’m not a bride, but…” His smirk widened, “ I’m pretty sure you’ve never needed to give yourself permission to kiss me.”

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[tyrin]

It didn’t surprise Tyrin that, as he pulled back slightly from the hug in order to meet Francis’ blue eyes, there were tears gathering in the corners of them. An uncharacteristically gentle smile quirked the corners of the pirate captain’s mouth as he moved one hand up, wiping some of the tears away with a light sweep of his callused thumb. Once upon a time, he’d been annoyed by Francis’ tendency towards open displays of emotion, but he’d long since gotten over that. He no longer thought that open emotion was a sign of weakness; it was just one of the differences between them that made him love Francis that much more.

Tyrin had never really feared that Francis was going to leave him (well, except for that one night, but that was the sole exception), so the relief that had spread through him came from something entirely different. His fear had always been that someone would take Francis away from him. He had always hated the thought that someone else could have any reason to lay claim to Francis; they belonged to each other, as far as he was concerned, and to no one else. Now, or soon anyway, that would be official. Tyrin’s authority as captain of the Leonine could force the whole world to acknowledge the tie between him and Francis, and no one else would ever be able to claim his husband again. It might be a slightly possessive way to think about it, but Tyrin didn’t care. It felt too good.

He smirked slightly as Francis stopped himself from going on another rant. The idea of the sorts of curses and shouts he threw around on a regular basis being romantic was rather amusing. ”Me telling you to get your ass up to the crow’s nest is romantic?” he asked drily, raising an eyebrow. He could accept the idea that it was kind of hot, though. After all, almost nothing turned him on more than the rare occasions when Francis took charge and gave as good as he got.

Somewhat reluctantly, Tyrin let Francis wriggle out of his arms, dropping his own to his sides as he watched his almost-husband. He watched as Francis reached over to the desk and picked up Tyrin’s ring (easily recognizable as the more worn of the two, since it wasn’t exactly in Tyrin’s personality to try and keep the ring all shiny and new). He’d never asked if Francis did something to keep his in such good condition, since he suspected the younger pirate would get embarrassed if he did. And sure, Tyrin might have teased him a little about it, but it wouldn’t be serious.

He remained quiet as Francis took his hand. The younger pirate’s skin was noticeably smoother than Tyrin’s own, but not by much. It was one of the few remnants of Francis’ old life; sooner or later, he would catch up. After all, Tyrin thought in vague amusement, his skin could only be so callused. Still, he found himself watching their hands together. Francis’ were smaller than his own, though not by all that much, the fingers more slender. Tyrin’s calluses were in different places; his were born of wielding his unique sword, with a few more added from climbing the rigging so much, while Francis’ were in different places. Still, they seemed to fit together better than when Francis’ skin was still merchant smooth. The ring Francis had slid onto his finger fit right where it had for the past few months, a mark as permanent as any callus. It belonged there.

Once Francis had finished, Tyrin mirrored the other’s smirk as he reached over for the younger pirate’s ring. He caught Francis’ left hand in his own and slid the ring onto the fourth finger. ”I take you as my husband,” he said, looking back up to meet Francis’ gaze. He continued, making up most of the wording as he went along from what little he knew of weddings. ”By the power vested in me as captain of this ship, I now pronounce us man and husband.” That last bit sounded a bit weird, but Tyrin mentally shrugged it off in favor of something far better.

He didn’t bother to say anything more. Instead, he slid his arm back around Francis’ waist, his other hand tilting the other’s chin up as he drew him close. His smirk fading into a more genuine smile, Tyrin kissed Francis deeply. Despite the fact that they had kissed a thousand times before, the same rush of heat still shot through his body, and his arm tightened around his husband’s waist as though he’d never let go again.

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Tagged: Frahnics ouo
Words: 781 $$ added

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