Hornblower ficlet
Nov. 6th, 2003 07:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gothikmausI needed to get this out of my system. Let me explain: I only watched the first episode of the Hornblower TV series, and bits and pieces of the second and third one. So, I'm not exactly a fan or an expert. But I adored the first episode and I fell in love with Clayton as soon as I saw him. Well, to tell the truth I thought: "He would be perfect as Remus Lupin!" but that's another story. ^_^' Anyway, I've wanted to read a bit of Horatio/Clayton since then, but I'm too lazy to actually search for fics, so I decided to write something of my own. It's just a short ficlet (little more than a drabble really), but I quite like it. Never mind the title, I didn't know what to call it =P
Choices
Horatio drops to the floor. Clayton kneels down beside him, tossing the stick somewhere on the wooden planks, and turns him on his back. So young, he thinks, softly stroking the boy's dark, unruly hair. So inexperienced. You shouldn't talk back to older officers. You shouldn't say no when they ask for your food. You shouldn't do your Mathematics exercises right when everyone else failed. But how are you supposed to know this? You're only 17.
Clayton studies the young face carefully. Still a child. Why did you board this ship? Why did you enter the Royal Navy? You could have been a doctor, a lawyer, anything you wanted. Yet you chose this life. Did someone choose for you?
The officer sighs. I can't let you throw yourself into death's arms. Simpson is too skilled, he'll aim straight at your heart. And you don't deserve to die like that, by the hand of an arrogant bastard who wants to destroy everything he can't have. For he will never have your brain, your courage. Your beauty.
He bends forward, eyes closed and lips parted, and his mouth brushes Horatio's. Soft and warm, and sweeter than the sweetest wine. It lasts only a moment. Clayton pulls back and caresses the boy's face one last time, thumb lightly tracing the firm line of the young midshipman's jaw.
I won't let him destroy you.
He stands up and grabs his cloak. He has a duel to attend to.
Choices
Horatio drops to the floor. Clayton kneels down beside him, tossing the stick somewhere on the wooden planks, and turns him on his back. So young, he thinks, softly stroking the boy's dark, unruly hair. So inexperienced. You shouldn't talk back to older officers. You shouldn't say no when they ask for your food. You shouldn't do your Mathematics exercises right when everyone else failed. But how are you supposed to know this? You're only 17.
Clayton studies the young face carefully. Still a child. Why did you board this ship? Why did you enter the Royal Navy? You could have been a doctor, a lawyer, anything you wanted. Yet you chose this life. Did someone choose for you?
The officer sighs. I can't let you throw yourself into death's arms. Simpson is too skilled, he'll aim straight at your heart. And you don't deserve to die like that, by the hand of an arrogant bastard who wants to destroy everything he can't have. For he will never have your brain, your courage. Your beauty.
He bends forward, eyes closed and lips parted, and his mouth brushes Horatio's. Soft and warm, and sweeter than the sweetest wine. It lasts only a moment. Clayton pulls back and caresses the boy's face one last time, thumb lightly tracing the firm line of the young midshipman's jaw.
I won't let him destroy you.
He stands up and grabs his cloak. He has a duel to attend to.
