Title: To Serve (if you have a better one, please tell me.)
Author: Wufei no Kaze
Fandom: Chronicles of the Cheysuli
Pairing: Aw…do I have to ruin it? Fine. Carillon/Finn
Rating: R
Archive: ML archives, others as long as you tell me where you’re putting it. ^_^
Email: miathewarrior@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: Not as of yet.
Web Page: http://geocities.com/aleeaw/yaoistuff
Disclaimer: I don’t own Chronicles of the Cheysuli. In fact, I don’t own anything. Including sanity or a brain. I wish I owned Finn. (*sigh*)
Warnings: slashy goodness. ^_^ Pretty sure Carillon is OOC, but oh well. Definite implausibility. Nuts.
Random notes: Don’t know how many of you know this series. I’m making a pathetic attempt to explain the characters within the story so you can still understand. I don’t know if it worked.
More random notes: My fics suck. Oh well.

“Stupid! If you let your guard down-” A sharp smack on Carillon’s wrist chastised him for his lack of attention.
Carillon panted heavily. “Finn- I need *huff* a break! *huff*!”
Finn glared at him out of yellow eyes, the trademark of his race, and continued to send blows at Carillon. “An enemy would not give you a break in the heat of a battle.”
“Fine,” Carillon said, grunting in irritance.
“C’mon, princeling,” Finn said, taunting him. “I’m holding you off with just a knife. Fight me!”
Carillon snarled. “Don’t you ever let up, Finn? This was…a mistake!”
“You have people out for your blood. Tynstar will kill you if he gets a chance. Bellam, too. He can’t leave the true holder of the Lion Throne alive. So- do you want to have a fighting chance or not? “
Carillon grimaced, knowing Finn was right, but his pride not allowing him to give in to Finn. Annoyed, he came at Finn again, attacking harder than before. But it was over before it began, as Finn disarmed the angry prince with a swift twist of his knife.

“Don’t sulk, princeling,” Finn said, smirking in his characteristic way. 
“I’m _not_ sulking,” Carillon muttered, obviously doing exactly that. The two had stopped at an inn for the night and were drinking at a table in the commons room.
Finn’s smirk grew wider. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Carillon said, crossly.
Finn’s eyes widened as he looked at something over Carillon’s shoulder. “Karlon! Jonsa! What on _earth_ are you two doing here?”
Carillon turned around in his chair. *Well. Who would have thought we’d run into more Cheysuli way out on the Steppes. And Finn knows them, too.*
The taller had the characteristic black hair, dark skin, and yellow eyes of the Cheysuli, with his lir partner, a large hawk sitting on his shoulder.
The other was shorter, with blond hair, but he still had the yellow eyes that identified him as a Cheysuli, or at least partly so. His lir was absent, but as he drew closer, his earring identified it as a fox.
Carillon elbowed Finn as his friends joined them at the table and raised his eyebrow at him. Finn took the hint. “Carillon, these are my friends Jonsa,” gesturing to the tall, dark one, “and Karlon.” His hand swept to take in the smaller one. “Guys, this is Carillon.”
Jonsa’s eyes took in the prince. “That’s right. I’d heard you were serving as liege man to an exiled prince.”
Finn smiled wryly. “I bet they didn’t say that said prince and I argue almost constantly.”
Carillon rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe if you weren’t so annoying and actually acted like a proper liege man-”
“Maybe if you would accept my training without whining about it,” Finn retorted.
Carillon snorted and ignored him.

“Are they brothers?” Carillon asked later that night in the room the two were sharing, pulling his shirt over his head.
Finn looked at him blankly. “Who?”
“Karlon and Jonsa. Cause they seemed close.”
Finn gave an undignified snort. “Good Gods, no! They’re lovers.”
Carillon stopped undressing to stare at Finn. “Beg pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“But- that’s not-”
“Right?” Finn sighed. “Remember, my race has a lot less of a sense of propriety than yours. For one thing, after being persecuted as a race, we’re on the whole a bit less prejudiced than yours. Second-” Finn cut off abruptly.
Carillon just looked at him. “Oh? You told me yourself about the extreme dislike of people who refuse the lir bond.”
“That’s different,” Finn spat. “By doing that, they _kill_ the lir.”
“Sure, Finn,”  Carillon replied. “What was the second you were about to say?”
Finn looked disgruntled. “It’s also accepted practice among the Cheysuli for warriors in battle, away from their cheysula and meijhas, to seek the company of other warriors. The word- meijhas- what does it mean to you?”
Carillon frowned. “A light woman- a whore.”
“The word meijha, to us, means ‘second lover’. There is no ‘woman’ in it.”
Carillon snorted, then decided to get under the skin of the other man, if he could. “So- we are away from any women that would be available to us. Are you insinuating something, Finn?”
Finn glared at him. “Certainly not. Besides, I’m not sure that I’d find you an accepting or consenting partner.”
 “I came to accept your other odd habits. I think I can accept this one, Finn.” He grinned a little. “’Sides, I’m horny as hell, and since you did offer…”
Finn ignored the implied slight in Carillon’s mentioning of his “odd habits”, choosing instead to yelp indignantly, “I did _not_ offer!”
“It was implied!” Carillon insisted, reaching forward and grabbing Finn’s wrists, catching just above the lir gold.
“Carillon-” Finn protested half-heartedly. “You can’t just decide- that you like me!”
Carillon laughed. “I don’t. But- I do. Doesn’t make much sense, but it’s not like anything has to come of this.”
“But-”
“Finn, do you serve me?”
“Yes,” the Cheysuli warrior said doubtfully.
“Then do your duty. Serve me,” he whispered, catching Finn’s mouth in his own.


Eheheh. There you go. My crappy fic. I just had to write the two, though, since they _did_ wander off together for five undocumented years, and then Finn got so uspet over Electra (jealous! He was jealous, dammit!) So. Anyway. C&C, please. (Light on the constructive criticism, though I suppose this one needs it badly.)