kay_brooke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kay_brooke) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2014-10-09 09:12 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2014-10-09 09:12 pm
Alien Green #16, Pineapple Yellow #19, Wizard #8
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Alien Green #16 (Fear. It's the oldest tool of power), Pineapple Yellow #19 (If I had learned how to laugh as a child I would right now), Wizard #8 (Slytherin)
Styles/Supplies: Pastels (origfic_bingo prompt “taking advantage”)
Word Count: 1,332
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Jarol gets rid of Grefflen.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
There was a commotion outside his tent, but before Jarol could get up to investigate, the tent flap slammed aside and Grefflen entered, shoving his way past the guard. As the guard moved to grab Grefflen, Jarol held up one hand. “Wait. Grefflen, what is it?” It had been nearly a month since he had seen the man, and his presence wasn’t welcome now. True, he had sent for him, but only because he’d had a mind to to Grefflen in charge in Ayst while the campaign continued. It had become clear to Jarol that Grefflen could not remain in his ranks, but he also knew too much to be left behind.
“You.” Grefflen pointed a trembling finger at him, apparently too shaken to speak. The pitcher next to Jarol’s bed tipped over with a crash, splashing water everywhere.
“Get control of yourself,” Jarol snapped. All of that work he had put into Grefflen’s training, and the man still couldn’t keep his emotions from affecting his abilities. “What have I told you before?”
“I have no care for what you told me before,” said Grefflen, but he took a deep breath and stepped back, lowering his finger. Thankfully, nothing else fell over or broke.
“Why have you disturbed me?” Jarol asked. “We march into Ayst tomorrow. If you hadn’t heard, they surrendered.” He gave Grefflen a tight smile. “Not a drop of blood spilled.”
“I heard,” Grefflen muttered.
“I’d thought you’d be pleased.”
“I don’t care about Ayst,” said Grefflen. “I don’t care about the war. I know you’ve as good as won.”
Jarol wanted to agree, but he was still wary. Ayst, and thus the council, had fallen, but Untoreld and the royal family still stood strong. No matter how many battles they won, or how many they brought to their side, Jarol knew the war wouldn’t truly be his until he had broken House Tierlach. Until then, he was still just a rebel. So he said, “Then what do you care about?”
“After,” said Grefflen. “What you’re planning to do once you’ve won your war.” The end of his sentence turned into a sneer. “What you’re planning to do with the children.”
“Eira,” Jarol. He kept his voice calm, but his heart sank just the same. He knew he should have sent her away a long time ago, right along with Grefflen. She had even less control over her abilities than he. “I thought she knew better than to tell, even if she couldn’t help overhearing.”
Grefflen gave him a grim smile. “Not Eira. But I’m glad you’re not denying the terrible schemes you have.”
Not Eira? Jarol ground his teeth. That meant someone else in the camp had obtained some very private information, and was passing it along freely. Or at least to Grefflen, which was the same thing. Had he accidentally let something slip to Oengus? Or was it Mairwyn? She was no friend to Grefflen, but if she had overheard something and then gone to her brother… Jarol squeezed his hand into a fist behind his back, and calmly asked, “Who told you?”
“It doesn’t matter who told me,” said Grefflen. “What matters is that I know, and I want answers. If I don’t like them, I will tell every person in this camp what you’re planning to do.”
Tell them, part of Jarol wanted to scream. They are loyal to me. They all agreed to follow my ways. They’ll understand this is for the best. But because, if he was truthful, that wasn’t something he could count on, he said, “Whatever plans you think I’ve made, I’m sure you’re mistaken. All I’m looking toward is winning this war. What happens after will be the work of many people. Myself among them, of course, but there is nothing to say I will still be their leader.”
“Liar,” Grefflen spat. “You’ve already admitted it, you can’t deny it now.”
“I’ve admitted nothing,” said Jarol.
“You didn’t have to say it,” said Grefflen. “I saw it all over your face when I came in.”
“You are a kinetischkoth,” said Jarol. “Not a sudanischkoth. Stay with what you know.” He slowly sat back down on his bed, to show Grefflen he wasn’t a threat. He moved slowly, like with a wild animal, which the people he was leading weren’t really much better than.
“You’re disgusting,” said Grefflen. “I know what you think of us. I don’t have to see your thoughts to know how you hold us in contempt. How you have no plans of letting any of us rule when the royal family falls.” He shook his head. “You came here, a refugee from a foreign land. I took pity on you, saved your life. And then you started a war. Now you’re winning the war. You’re on the verge of conquering my own land and proclaiming yourself ruler. Of taking our children away across the sea, to turn them into your people. While you still think of us as less than the dust on your shoe.” He sagged a little, as if his speech had taken everything, even the energy keeping his upright. “To think, all this because I decided to be kind and save the life of a beggar.”
Jarol stood up again, confident once more in his power. Grefflen looked exhausted, pale, his temple glistening his sweat. Nerves, Jarol decided, as it was quite a cool day. But the other man had nothing more to give, and Jarol had plenty. “You don’t know my plans. Whoever you have spoken to--and I will find out--does not know my plans. I didn’t start this war; this war was already coming. I merely gave you the chance to actually win it. Everything I’ve done was to help the people of this land. You regret saving my life? You should be thanking me. If you had let those guard kill me you would be living on the streets right now, if you were lucky. Most likely you’d be dead. You and everyone you care about.” He took a step closer, who suddenly seemed very small. “You’d all still be hiding away, always in danger. You would live in misery and squalor, unable to control the deschi. And it would continue with your children, and their children, until the Brey had finally hunted down and killed every last one of you. All of that, because you failed to save my life.”
“Maybe,” said Grefflen. “But at least we would have died with our souls intact.”
Jarol snorted. “Leave my tent and take your superstitious wailing with you. Don’t stop walking until you’re beyond my camp. And don’t ever come back.”
“I’ll tell everyone,” said Grefflen.
“You’re a known coward and, when I’m finished with my own tales, a liar. I’m their general, leading them to victory against the ones who have hunted and murdered their kind for years.” He rested one hand on the pommel of his sword, propped up against his bed. “So you try telling them. I’d like to see how well that goes.”
Grefflen gaped at him, his mouth open, but no words seemed able to come out.
“Now leave,” said Jarol. “In return for you saving my life, I’ll let you leave without an escort, and I’ll give you until sundown to get as far away from here as you can. After that, I will tell everyone that you have been banished for turning traitor.”
“You wouldn’t,” said Grefflen. “They’ll kill me.”
“What they do with the information is none of my concern,” said Jarol. “Now go, or I won’t give you until sundown.”
Grefflen looked for a moment like he was going to argue, but even in the end he was still a coward. He stepped backward on shaky legs until he was at the entrance to the tent, then he turned and fled.
Jarol patted his sword, a small smile on his face.
kay_brookeStory: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Alien Green #16 (Fear. It's the oldest tool of power), Pineapple Yellow #19 (If I had learned how to laugh as a child I would right now), Wizard #8 (Slytherin)
Styles/Supplies: Pastels (
origfic_bingo prompt “taking advantage”)Word Count: 1,332
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Jarol gets rid of Grefflen.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
There was a commotion outside his tent, but before Jarol could get up to investigate, the tent flap slammed aside and Grefflen entered, shoving his way past the guard. As the guard moved to grab Grefflen, Jarol held up one hand. “Wait. Grefflen, what is it?” It had been nearly a month since he had seen the man, and his presence wasn’t welcome now. True, he had sent for him, but only because he’d had a mind to to Grefflen in charge in Ayst while the campaign continued. It had become clear to Jarol that Grefflen could not remain in his ranks, but he also knew too much to be left behind.
“You.” Grefflen pointed a trembling finger at him, apparently too shaken to speak. The pitcher next to Jarol’s bed tipped over with a crash, splashing water everywhere.
“Get control of yourself,” Jarol snapped. All of that work he had put into Grefflen’s training, and the man still couldn’t keep his emotions from affecting his abilities. “What have I told you before?”
“I have no care for what you told me before,” said Grefflen, but he took a deep breath and stepped back, lowering his finger. Thankfully, nothing else fell over or broke.
“Why have you disturbed me?” Jarol asked. “We march into Ayst tomorrow. If you hadn’t heard, they surrendered.” He gave Grefflen a tight smile. “Not a drop of blood spilled.”
“I heard,” Grefflen muttered.
“I’d thought you’d be pleased.”
“I don’t care about Ayst,” said Grefflen. “I don’t care about the war. I know you’ve as good as won.”
Jarol wanted to agree, but he was still wary. Ayst, and thus the council, had fallen, but Untoreld and the royal family still stood strong. No matter how many battles they won, or how many they brought to their side, Jarol knew the war wouldn’t truly be his until he had broken House Tierlach. Until then, he was still just a rebel. So he said, “Then what do you care about?”
“After,” said Grefflen. “What you’re planning to do once you’ve won your war.” The end of his sentence turned into a sneer. “What you’re planning to do with the children.”
“Eira,” Jarol. He kept his voice calm, but his heart sank just the same. He knew he should have sent her away a long time ago, right along with Grefflen. She had even less control over her abilities than he. “I thought she knew better than to tell, even if she couldn’t help overhearing.”
Grefflen gave him a grim smile. “Not Eira. But I’m glad you’re not denying the terrible schemes you have.”
Not Eira? Jarol ground his teeth. That meant someone else in the camp had obtained some very private information, and was passing it along freely. Or at least to Grefflen, which was the same thing. Had he accidentally let something slip to Oengus? Or was it Mairwyn? She was no friend to Grefflen, but if she had overheard something and then gone to her brother… Jarol squeezed his hand into a fist behind his back, and calmly asked, “Who told you?”
“It doesn’t matter who told me,” said Grefflen. “What matters is that I know, and I want answers. If I don’t like them, I will tell every person in this camp what you’re planning to do.”
Tell them, part of Jarol wanted to scream. They are loyal to me. They all agreed to follow my ways. They’ll understand this is for the best. But because, if he was truthful, that wasn’t something he could count on, he said, “Whatever plans you think I’ve made, I’m sure you’re mistaken. All I’m looking toward is winning this war. What happens after will be the work of many people. Myself among them, of course, but there is nothing to say I will still be their leader.”
“Liar,” Grefflen spat. “You’ve already admitted it, you can’t deny it now.”
“I’ve admitted nothing,” said Jarol.
“You didn’t have to say it,” said Grefflen. “I saw it all over your face when I came in.”
“You are a kinetischkoth,” said Jarol. “Not a sudanischkoth. Stay with what you know.” He slowly sat back down on his bed, to show Grefflen he wasn’t a threat. He moved slowly, like with a wild animal, which the people he was leading weren’t really much better than.
“You’re disgusting,” said Grefflen. “I know what you think of us. I don’t have to see your thoughts to know how you hold us in contempt. How you have no plans of letting any of us rule when the royal family falls.” He shook his head. “You came here, a refugee from a foreign land. I took pity on you, saved your life. And then you started a war. Now you’re winning the war. You’re on the verge of conquering my own land and proclaiming yourself ruler. Of taking our children away across the sea, to turn them into your people. While you still think of us as less than the dust on your shoe.” He sagged a little, as if his speech had taken everything, even the energy keeping his upright. “To think, all this because I decided to be kind and save the life of a beggar.”
Jarol stood up again, confident once more in his power. Grefflen looked exhausted, pale, his temple glistening his sweat. Nerves, Jarol decided, as it was quite a cool day. But the other man had nothing more to give, and Jarol had plenty. “You don’t know my plans. Whoever you have spoken to--and I will find out--does not know my plans. I didn’t start this war; this war was already coming. I merely gave you the chance to actually win it. Everything I’ve done was to help the people of this land. You regret saving my life? You should be thanking me. If you had let those guard kill me you would be living on the streets right now, if you were lucky. Most likely you’d be dead. You and everyone you care about.” He took a step closer, who suddenly seemed very small. “You’d all still be hiding away, always in danger. You would live in misery and squalor, unable to control the deschi. And it would continue with your children, and their children, until the Brey had finally hunted down and killed every last one of you. All of that, because you failed to save my life.”
“Maybe,” said Grefflen. “But at least we would have died with our souls intact.”
Jarol snorted. “Leave my tent and take your superstitious wailing with you. Don’t stop walking until you’re beyond my camp. And don’t ever come back.”
“I’ll tell everyone,” said Grefflen.
“You’re a known coward and, when I’m finished with my own tales, a liar. I’m their general, leading them to victory against the ones who have hunted and murdered their kind for years.” He rested one hand on the pommel of his sword, propped up against his bed. “So you try telling them. I’d like to see how well that goes.”
Grefflen gaped at him, his mouth open, but no words seemed able to come out.
“Now leave,” said Jarol. “In return for you saving my life, I’ll let you leave without an escort, and I’ll give you until sundown to get as far away from here as you can. After that, I will tell everyone that you have been banished for turning traitor.”
“You wouldn’t,” said Grefflen. “They’ll kill me.”
“What they do with the information is none of my concern,” said Jarol. “Now go, or I won’t give you until sundown.”
Grefflen looked for a moment like he was going to argue, but even in the end he was still a coward. He stepped backward on shaky legs until he was at the entrance to the tent, then he turned and fled.
Jarol patted his sword, a small smile on his face.
no subject
no subject
Thanks for reading!