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rainbowfic2012-03-26 01:42 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2012-03-26 01:42 pm
Burnt Umber #20, Snow White #7, Tea Rose #10
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Myrrosta
Colors: Burnt Umber #20 (Ha-Ilztuk Icefield), Snow White #7 (make a wish), Tea Rose #10 (happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance)
Styles/Supplies: Miniature Collection, Pastels fororigfic_bingo card prompt "promises broken"
Word Count: 886
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: The marriage of Hopina and Atro.
Hopina wasn't sure when it started. Perhaps it was the lie he told her, so many years ago and before they were married: I had nothing to do with sending Edward away. But she had found out differently. Her own father had let it slip, and Hopina could tell by the look on Atro's face that it was true.
Her father resigned his advisor position the next day. He said he was getting too old for it, but Hopina wondered if Atro had encouraged him.
She didn't ask, because she didn't trust she would get the truth.
#
Maybe it was when the boy came into the household, but that wasn't Atro's fault. He hadn't known he had a son, and he had pledged Anthony--his name changed from Jannad by Hopina's request; just because she had to raise a salkiy didn't mean she had to keep its strange salkiy name--would never hold the throne, eldest or not.
His pledges had meant something to her, then.
#
Their first was a girl. That was all right. Hopina was young, and there would be more children. She loved Kyla, loved having a child of her own to hold and sing to, a child with normal ears and fingers, and without salkiy-pale skin. Every time Hopina looked at Anthony she was reminded how much unlike her he was. But Kyla was hers, completely and fully. Her red hair, her gray eyes looking back at her.
It was a pity women were not fit to rule. If they had been, perhaps Atro would have looked twice at his daughter.
#
The whole empire celebrated when Gyeth was born. He was only three days old when Atro, with the backing of the High Councilors, named his heir.
Gyeth could have saved them, Hopina thought later. Kyla was hers alone, and Anthony was his father's mistake, but Gyeth was theirs. Through Gyeth, they could love each other like married couples should.
Gyeth was two months old when the physicians realized he was blind. A cripple could never be Emperor, and the boy's claim was removed. Hopina locked herself in her rooms and did not speak to Atro for months.
#
They tried again; how could they not? Three children, three unworthy heirs. Surely their bad luck couldn't hold.
But it did.
#
It wasn't that Hopina didn't like Merrus, she just didn't like who her husband became when he was around.
"Do you remember when we ran into those Cottocks? And they thought I was your prisoner?" Atro roared with laughter, already deep into his cups.
Merrus smiled thinly and said nothing. He never had to say anything to turn Atro back into the loud, obnoxious boy he had once been. He just had to be there.
#
"You can't make him heir!" Hopina screamed.
"I have to," said Atro, looking defeated. "I have to name an heir. The High Councilors won't leave me alone until I do."
"But not him!"
"Who else is there?"
Anyone else would be better, Hopina thought, than Anthony, whose anger fits sent him half-insane sometimes, and who was surly and unresponsive when he wasn't throwing things.
But her own children, her beautiful daughter and her happy son, weren't good enough for Atro. He saw a girl and a cripple, and he had always favored salkiys.
#
She may not have liked it when Merrus came to visit, but she liked it even less when he stopped. Atro became despondent, and he had no interest in sharing Hopina's bed.
"Why does he stay away?" he asked.
"You told him to," said Hopina. It was a very bad time to associate with salkiys. Atro couldn't afford to alienate the High Councilors, who were still trying to swallow the idea of Anthony being heir.
"If he just stopped being a traitor, he could come back!" Atro said. He had turned into an obnoxious child even without the salkiy's presence.
#
She finally got pregnant again, and lost the baby barely after she knew she carried it.
That was the last time she and Atro slept in the same bed.
#
"I'm going to war," said Atro.
"Against who?" She wasn't stupid, she knew the salkiys and the Okkandians were fighting over their borders, and that the eastern Seenians were urging it on. But Atro had stayed out of the conflict, refusing to choose between the humans and the salkiys.
He had no choice now. The Kandelian Empress herself was poised to get in on the dispute, and the High Councilors had panicked at Atro's inaction.
"For Ceenta Vowei," he told her sternly, and that was when she knew the war would kill him.
#
She wasn't in the palace when they brought him home. Her father had died, and she had gone to his manor, partly to make arrangements for his estate, and partly to get away from the whispering emptiness of the palace.
A message came: Atro wounded in battle. A good wife would have left immediately. But she was busy. She had her own life while her husband was off fighting his ridiculous war.
By the time she got back he was gone. She heard from the maids that Merrus had been there, at the end.
She supposed that was some comfort.
#
She didn't miss him.
kay_brookeStory: The Myrrosta
Colors: Burnt Umber #20 (Ha-Ilztuk Icefield), Snow White #7 (make a wish), Tea Rose #10 (happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance)
Styles/Supplies: Miniature Collection, Pastels for
origfic_bingo card prompt "promises broken"Word Count: 886
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: The marriage of Hopina and Atro.
Hopina wasn't sure when it started. Perhaps it was the lie he told her, so many years ago and before they were married: I had nothing to do with sending Edward away. But she had found out differently. Her own father had let it slip, and Hopina could tell by the look on Atro's face that it was true.
Her father resigned his advisor position the next day. He said he was getting too old for it, but Hopina wondered if Atro had encouraged him.
She didn't ask, because she didn't trust she would get the truth.
#
Maybe it was when the boy came into the household, but that wasn't Atro's fault. He hadn't known he had a son, and he had pledged Anthony--his name changed from Jannad by Hopina's request; just because she had to raise a salkiy didn't mean she had to keep its strange salkiy name--would never hold the throne, eldest or not.
His pledges had meant something to her, then.
#
Their first was a girl. That was all right. Hopina was young, and there would be more children. She loved Kyla, loved having a child of her own to hold and sing to, a child with normal ears and fingers, and without salkiy-pale skin. Every time Hopina looked at Anthony she was reminded how much unlike her he was. But Kyla was hers, completely and fully. Her red hair, her gray eyes looking back at her.
It was a pity women were not fit to rule. If they had been, perhaps Atro would have looked twice at his daughter.
#
The whole empire celebrated when Gyeth was born. He was only three days old when Atro, with the backing of the High Councilors, named his heir.
Gyeth could have saved them, Hopina thought later. Kyla was hers alone, and Anthony was his father's mistake, but Gyeth was theirs. Through Gyeth, they could love each other like married couples should.
Gyeth was two months old when the physicians realized he was blind. A cripple could never be Emperor, and the boy's claim was removed. Hopina locked herself in her rooms and did not speak to Atro for months.
#
They tried again; how could they not? Three children, three unworthy heirs. Surely their bad luck couldn't hold.
But it did.
#
It wasn't that Hopina didn't like Merrus, she just didn't like who her husband became when he was around.
"Do you remember when we ran into those Cottocks? And they thought I was your prisoner?" Atro roared with laughter, already deep into his cups.
Merrus smiled thinly and said nothing. He never had to say anything to turn Atro back into the loud, obnoxious boy he had once been. He just had to be there.
#
"You can't make him heir!" Hopina screamed.
"I have to," said Atro, looking defeated. "I have to name an heir. The High Councilors won't leave me alone until I do."
"But not him!"
"Who else is there?"
Anyone else would be better, Hopina thought, than Anthony, whose anger fits sent him half-insane sometimes, and who was surly and unresponsive when he wasn't throwing things.
But her own children, her beautiful daughter and her happy son, weren't good enough for Atro. He saw a girl and a cripple, and he had always favored salkiys.
#
She may not have liked it when Merrus came to visit, but she liked it even less when he stopped. Atro became despondent, and he had no interest in sharing Hopina's bed.
"Why does he stay away?" he asked.
"You told him to," said Hopina. It was a very bad time to associate with salkiys. Atro couldn't afford to alienate the High Councilors, who were still trying to swallow the idea of Anthony being heir.
"If he just stopped being a traitor, he could come back!" Atro said. He had turned into an obnoxious child even without the salkiy's presence.
#
She finally got pregnant again, and lost the baby barely after she knew she carried it.
That was the last time she and Atro slept in the same bed.
#
"I'm going to war," said Atro.
"Against who?" She wasn't stupid, she knew the salkiys and the Okkandians were fighting over their borders, and that the eastern Seenians were urging it on. But Atro had stayed out of the conflict, refusing to choose between the humans and the salkiys.
He had no choice now. The Kandelian Empress herself was poised to get in on the dispute, and the High Councilors had panicked at Atro's inaction.
"For Ceenta Vowei," he told her sternly, and that was when she knew the war would kill him.
#
She wasn't in the palace when they brought him home. Her father had died, and she had gone to his manor, partly to make arrangements for his estate, and partly to get away from the whispering emptiness of the palace.
A message came: Atro wounded in battle. A good wife would have left immediately. But she was busy. She had her own life while her husband was off fighting his ridiculous war.
By the time she got back he was gone. She heard from the maids that Merrus had been there, at the end.
She supposed that was some comfort.
#
She didn't miss him.
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