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rainbowfic2015-08-11 02:47 am
crossfortune) wrote in rainbowfic2015-08-11 02:47 am
Entry tags:
in your heart shall burn
Name: Mischa
Story: the empty throne
Colors: bistre (to damnation and beyond. I have sworn it.), spark (We'll see how brave you are), verdigris (spider web)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 878
Rating: R, to be safe
Warnings: oh god. this is not a good world at all. human sacrifice, implied abusive relationship, implied rape, implied attempted suicide. if I have forgotten any, please let me know.
Summary: "Breaker of Chains, grant me the power to make a difference." Lihua is the youngest princess of her house, devoted to the gods and to the welfare of her people, though she has little power of her own: she prays, and one finally answers.
Notes: needs story tag.
On the first day of every moon, Third Princess Lihua makes her circuit of all the shrines and lays her offerings to the altars of the gods dutifully, prostrates herself and prays for the prosperity of her people, for the strength of her mother’s reign, for the continued Mandate of Heaven, lays the circlet from her hair without hesitation on the altar of the Jade Empress.
(she shudders only for a moment when she lays the last of her treasured childhood dolls on the altar of the Iron Lord, but does not cry. The King of Shades only loves that which is beloved, but she does not cry for the loss until she is back in her chambers.
the next year, she weeps, and cannot stop, when her eldest brother offers the Eldest their beloved nursemaid from childhood. she would not look at first, when he laid open Nurse’s throat, except that their mother would not let her look away as the light left her eyes.
it was the first thing Lihua never forgave Eldest Brother for.)
The court calls her pious, as she grows up: devoted to the gods. Lihua makes her offerings, still, and prays, but isn’t entirely certain anymore what she prays for. Her mother the Empress, the Daughter of Heaven, grows old: Eldest Brother will be emperor after she is gone, and for what? For all her failings, Mother has been a good ruler under the gaze of heaven, the eyes of the Jade Empress, her law applied evenly, though harshly, to all: all the prayers in the world will not make her eldest son follow in her footsteps. Lihua prays, anyway, not hoping for a miracle but not knowing what else to do: she is the youngest child of the empress, with little power of her own. Third princess, with two sisters and two brothers ahead of her.
Her mother dies, when Lihua is barely a woman, and Eldest Brother becomes the Son of Heaven. She makes herself small and quiet, continues to pray, and has no idea what to do.
***
(Lihua scrubs the dust off the altar to the Most-Beloved, struggles to light the flame: it won’t catch and hasn’t burned in longer than living memory. she doesn’t know what to offer him, what to offer a broken god who feels nothing, who wants nothing save the freedom no one can possibly give him.
All things bright and beautiful in this world. There is a reason Lihua has never prayed to be beautiful, though apparently she is.
“He’s helpless,” her brother’s favorite consort says, his voice empty, and drifts forward, the ornaments in his hair chiming with each graceful step, layers of silk whispering against the floor as he moves. Lin is fine-boned and beautiful, with a face that shames flowers and hair like moonlight: rumors say he has the blood of a celestial maiden, though no one knows for certain. He is unquestionably her eldest brother’s favorite, and has been since he was merely First Prince. “The Most-Beloved cannot hear you, Princess.”
It’s the most she’s ever heard Lin say: he’s barely spoken in the time she’s known him. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t feel much of anything at all.
“I know,” Lihua says, and sighs, winds her arms around the slender youth, holds him gently. How long has it been since he’s known gentleness? More than beautiful enough to be consort and concubine to kings and emperors and princes, any number of men would draw swords and kill in his name. And he doesn’t want any of it.
“He cannot help you,” Lin says, his eyes lovely pools of nothing. “He cannot even help himself.”
Lihua tries, but she cannot even kindle the flame on the altar. Weeks later, Lin is ill- or so she tells her brother to forestall his rage , and hides the young man’s sharp, sharp, sharp hairpins in her hair, black strands absorbing blood - and the blue flame flickers to weak life.
The next time she prays, she prays to the only god who can help her now.)
Lihua kneels at the altar of the Lord of Silence and pricks her finger with her hairpin, lets three drops of her blood fall into the altar flame and opens her heart to the secret she has kept for so long. She thinks of her eldest brother, the emperor, who sees suspicion and treason everywhere he looks: of the books and the philosophers that follow the goddesses of fate and fortune, all burning in the same pyre: of the crops that fail and the peasants that die, of her brother’s favorite and unhappy consort with his utter lack of hope, of their childhood nurse dead on the altar to the Eldest. Of everything she is, on her own, powerless to rectify.
“Breaker of Chains, who sees all that is hidden,” she whispers to the heart of the flame, not caring what the price the Prince of Scorpions will demand of her is, “Grant me the power to make a difference.”
Lihua closes her eyes, licks away the blood clinging to her fingers and feels something stir.
Story: the empty throne
Colors: bistre (to damnation and beyond. I have sworn it.), spark (We'll see how brave you are), verdigris (spider web)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 878
Rating: R, to be safe
Warnings: oh god. this is not a good world at all. human sacrifice, implied abusive relationship, implied rape, implied attempted suicide. if I have forgotten any, please let me know.
Summary: "Breaker of Chains, grant me the power to make a difference." Lihua is the youngest princess of her house, devoted to the gods and to the welfare of her people, though she has little power of her own: she prays, and one finally answers.
Notes: needs story tag.
On the first day of every moon, Third Princess Lihua makes her circuit of all the shrines and lays her offerings to the altars of the gods dutifully, prostrates herself and prays for the prosperity of her people, for the strength of her mother’s reign, for the continued Mandate of Heaven, lays the circlet from her hair without hesitation on the altar of the Jade Empress.
(she shudders only for a moment when she lays the last of her treasured childhood dolls on the altar of the Iron Lord, but does not cry. The King of Shades only loves that which is beloved, but she does not cry for the loss until she is back in her chambers.
the next year, she weeps, and cannot stop, when her eldest brother offers the Eldest their beloved nursemaid from childhood. she would not look at first, when he laid open Nurse’s throat, except that their mother would not let her look away as the light left her eyes.
it was the first thing Lihua never forgave Eldest Brother for.)
The court calls her pious, as she grows up: devoted to the gods. Lihua makes her offerings, still, and prays, but isn’t entirely certain anymore what she prays for. Her mother the Empress, the Daughter of Heaven, grows old: Eldest Brother will be emperor after she is gone, and for what? For all her failings, Mother has been a good ruler under the gaze of heaven, the eyes of the Jade Empress, her law applied evenly, though harshly, to all: all the prayers in the world will not make her eldest son follow in her footsteps. Lihua prays, anyway, not hoping for a miracle but not knowing what else to do: she is the youngest child of the empress, with little power of her own. Third princess, with two sisters and two brothers ahead of her.
Her mother dies, when Lihua is barely a woman, and Eldest Brother becomes the Son of Heaven. She makes herself small and quiet, continues to pray, and has no idea what to do.
***
(Lihua scrubs the dust off the altar to the Most-Beloved, struggles to light the flame: it won’t catch and hasn’t burned in longer than living memory. she doesn’t know what to offer him, what to offer a broken god who feels nothing, who wants nothing save the freedom no one can possibly give him.
All things bright and beautiful in this world. There is a reason Lihua has never prayed to be beautiful, though apparently she is.
“He’s helpless,” her brother’s favorite consort says, his voice empty, and drifts forward, the ornaments in his hair chiming with each graceful step, layers of silk whispering against the floor as he moves. Lin is fine-boned and beautiful, with a face that shames flowers and hair like moonlight: rumors say he has the blood of a celestial maiden, though no one knows for certain. He is unquestionably her eldest brother’s favorite, and has been since he was merely First Prince. “The Most-Beloved cannot hear you, Princess.”
It’s the most she’s ever heard Lin say: he’s barely spoken in the time she’s known him. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t feel much of anything at all.
“I know,” Lihua says, and sighs, winds her arms around the slender youth, holds him gently. How long has it been since he’s known gentleness? More than beautiful enough to be consort and concubine to kings and emperors and princes, any number of men would draw swords and kill in his name. And he doesn’t want any of it.
“He cannot help you,” Lin says, his eyes lovely pools of nothing. “He cannot even help himself.”
Lihua tries, but she cannot even kindle the flame on the altar. Weeks later, Lin is ill- or so she tells her brother to forestall his rage , and hides the young man’s sharp, sharp, sharp hairpins in her hair, black strands absorbing blood - and the blue flame flickers to weak life.
The next time she prays, she prays to the only god who can help her now.)
Lihua kneels at the altar of the Lord of Silence and pricks her finger with her hairpin, lets three drops of her blood fall into the altar flame and opens her heart to the secret she has kept for so long. She thinks of her eldest brother, the emperor, who sees suspicion and treason everywhere he looks: of the books and the philosophers that follow the goddesses of fate and fortune, all burning in the same pyre: of the crops that fail and the peasants that die, of her brother’s favorite and unhappy consort with his utter lack of hope, of their childhood nurse dead on the altar to the Eldest. Of everything she is, on her own, powerless to rectify.
“Breaker of Chains, who sees all that is hidden,” she whispers to the heart of the flame, not caring what the price the Prince of Scorpions will demand of her is, “Grant me the power to make a difference.”
Lihua closes her eyes, licks away the blood clinging to her fingers and feels something stir.