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rainbowfic2016-07-08 07:45 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2016-07-08 07:45 pm
Liver #13, Oliphaunt Grey #15, Plant Party #20
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Learning Diplomacy
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Liver #13. knee, Oliphaunt Grey #15. If ever you'd met me you wouldn't forget me, Plant Party #20. Bird of paradise
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (Opening Ceremonies), canvas, oils, novelty beads (We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit. - Aristotle),
Word Count: 2204
Rating: PG
Characters: Malue, Idan
Warnings: Don't think so.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
Malue was bored. Endlessly, hopelessly bored; and he was more than a little ashamed of that fact. But, then again, that might explain why Father had sent him here. He was supposed to learn how to properly be a king, and part of that was being very still and very well-behaved and very solemn when he was bored.
He sighed, and stared at the rain dripping down the window of the room he’d been assigned here in the Holy City. Remember why you’re here. Remember who you’re here representing. You have to make Father proud and not shame all of Nandere. Even if you don’t know or care about the old man who died, and you don’t want to be so far away from home, and you don’t want…it doesn’t matter. You’re going to be king someday, that means you have to learn how to behave even when you don’t want to.
When he put it like that, in his head, of course it made perfect sense. Of course he would do it, of course he would behave and be everything expected of him.
Except funerals were boring, and all the priests around him were quiet and either treated him like he was younger than Enairi or like he was already grown up. And, of course, he was behaving when people were around, he was going to behave himself. He didn’t want to shame his entire nation, and he knew how to make proper small talk with adults. It was just they seemed to think he knew a lot more than he did, and he got lost. Or they treated him like he was little and…
He sighed again and made a face at the window. He was supposed to be sad and solemn and very, very correct. But all he really was was bored.
He was pulled out of his sulk by hearing something skittering into some kind of crash out in the hallway. He jumped a little, and hesitated. He should probably compose himself or something before he went and saw what was going on out there, except…well, he was probably young enough that he could get away with not doing that. And someone could be hurt. He shouldn’t leave someone hurt and all alone out there. That would be mean, and much more shameful than not being Exactly Perfect All The Time.
That decided, Malue headed for the door and poked his head out--on reflection, he was probably very much upsetting the guards that Father had sent with him, but, well, once a king decided what he was going to do, he had to stick with it, didn’t he? And Malue was determined to be a good king, even if not exactly in the style his father might prefer.
Outside in the hallway, there was a boy picking himself up. He was a bit younger than Malue, maybe Enairi’s age, and looked more annoyed than hurt. That was good, at least. He was wearing a black suit that was just a little big on him, as if he’d been sent here fast enough that there wasn’t really time to tailor it properly, and he hadn’t needed one before then.
He was probably some other king’s son, sent here for the funeral and election and all of that. But whoever he was, he was probably going to be a lot more interesting to talk to than any of the adults had proven to be. Besides, part of being a king was being diplomatic, right? Spending time with another king’s son was good practice.
Yes. Obviously, the right, perfect, proper thing to do for a young king in training was to talk to the strange boy who’d tripped in the hallway outside his borrowed apartments in a completely unfamiliar city.
“Are you all right?” Malue asked, pushing the door all the way open and stepping out to offer him a hand.
“Oh!” The boy looked up. He had clear amber eyes, a few shades lighter than his hair, which was soft and curly and golden brown. “Yeah--yes. I’m. Um. I’m fine. Thank you.” He accepted Malue’s hand and stood up with care. He couldn’t quite hide making a face as he stood.
“Are you sure?” He gave the younger boy a quick once-over. He didn’t see any blood, but the boy’s suit was all black, so it might not show. And even bruises could hurt a lot, if they were in the right place.
“Uh-huh,” he said, then, “Ow.”
Malue hid a smile. “What hurts? Here, you can come in and maybe I can help. My brother and I fall down lots and usually we don’t want to bother anyone about it…”
The boy hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah--yes. Please. That would be very kind, thank you.” He rushed through it almost mechanically, which basically confirmed what Malue had suspected. This boy was here for the same reasons he was--to learn how to properly be a prince and a diplomat and, eventually, a king.
“Come on, right this way,” Malue said, keeping hold of the younger boy’s hand and pulling him in and shutting the door behind him. “What hurts? You never answered that part.”
“Oh. Um.” He hesitated for a minute, with a faint frown, as if he was thinking. “My hands and my right knee mostly. And it’s not that bad, ‘cept when I bended it weird earlier.”
Malue dug around under his bed for where he’d put his emergency supplies. He hadn’t been lying, before, when he’d said that he and Enairi fell down a lot and cleaned themselves up as much as possible--they were boys, and boys were supposed to play rough with each other and that meant falling down sometimes. But if they went to Mamma or Father or one of the guards or one of their tutors or anyone official, it would become a Very Big Deal. Especially if Malue was the one who got hurt. They might be supposed to play rough with each other, but if there was any actual damage…
It meant all kinds of flurried activities and fussing and, when it inevitably turned out that they weren’t hurt bad--and they never were; they were always careful--then would come the just as inevitable Lecture about Proper Conduct And Behavior. Father was very, very good at that lecture.
He found his kit and wriggled back out from under the bed. “Right. First, we check for--no, wait, first, check and make sure you can bend your knee all the way. Does that work?”
The boy frowned a little, but stuck his leg straight out, then bent it all the way back as if he was about to sit on it. He made a face again. “Ow. Um. It all moves, it just hurts.”
Now that he was looking closer, Malue could see where there was a little bit of what might have been a darker, wet spot on the knee of his leggings. “All right. So that means it’s prob’ly not broken or dis--it’s still where it’s supposed to be. That’s good; that means we don’t have to tell anyone, ‘cause they’ll all make it a bigger problem than it needs to be.”
He nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes. They do that where you’re from, too?”
“All the time,” Malue said. “But it does look like you’re bleeding a bit, so I’m gonna clean it up and bandage it, all right?”
He nodded again. “Grown-ups are stupid,” he said, loftily. “Ow!”
“Sorry, I should’ve warned you. It kind of stings when I do this.” Or, at least, it always did when he did it for himself. And Enairi made the same complaint the few times when he was the one who got hurt. Usually, he was more careful and ended up quietly cleaning Malue up after accidents before they had to tell anyone important.
“It’s fine,” the boy said.
“All right, I think that’s done,” Malue said, after liberally splashing the cleaning fluid he and Enairi had stolen from the palace infirmary over the boy’s bleeding knee. It wasn’t bleeding too bad, just scraped a little. It wasn’t even puffy, but would probably turn all kinds of pretty colors in the next couple of days.
He pulled out a roll of bandages and wrapped it up, and then pulled the boy’s leggings back down over it.
“Thanks,” he said, and smiled again.
“Welcome,” Malue said, smiling back. “You said your hands hurt, too. Can I see?”
“Sure,” he said, and stuck them out.
They weren’t even as bad as the knee. Scraped too, but not enough to bleed. “They’ll probably sting for a while, but you’ll be fine,” Malue decided. “I should clean ‘em just to be safe, but they don’t need to be wrapped, I don’t think. Ready?”
The boy nodded and took a deep breath, bracing himself. “All right. Do it.”
Malue smiled at him, then cleaned his hands. The boy just hissed this time, but held still and suffered through it. “All done.”
“Thanks again,” he said, with a grin. “Um. My name’s Idan. My papa sent me here because the High Priest died and someone had to come, and my big brother’s sick so he couldn’t.”
“I’m Malue,” he replied. “My father sent me here for the same reason. Except I’m the oldest. I’m sorry about your brother; I hope he gets better soon.” There was something familiar about the name Idan, which was part of why he fell back on the easy, automatic courtesy of the formulaic sympathy. But he couldn’t quite place why the name was familiar, or whether or not it was an important familiarity. He knew the names of all the royal families of all the countries on the continent, of course, and a few from the other continents, too. It was all part of what was expected from a good prince, a good king. He couldn’t place exactly which family Idan came from.
It probably wasn’t important. Probably just one of the dozens and hundreds of names he’d memorized as a matter of course.
“I’m pretty sure he’ll be fine,” Idan said. “My big brother’s amazing, he’ll get better from anything. And he’s not really sick, just not supposed to travel or something. He’ll probably be fine when I get back, and mad he missed this.”
“Why?” Malue asked. “It’s so boring.”
“Yeah--yes,” he agreed. “Except it’s going to a totally new place and meeting totally new people and something I got to do that he didn’t. So even if it’s totally boring the whole time…”
“I think I get it,” he said, considering that for a moment. Enairi might even be jealous, too. Probably not, though. Because Enairi was perfect.
Or, at least, Father seemed to think he was. Enairi never did things wrong, never messed up the way Malue did all the time. Or it always seemed like Father felt that way, anyway. Maybe Malue just didn’t see it when Enairi messed up because Father never yelled at them in front of each other.
“I don’t think any of the other kings sent their children,” Idan said. “I was off exploring--”
“You were exploring?” Malue interrupted. “They told me I had to stay put.”
“They told me the same thing,” the younger boy said, then gave him a wink that could only be called mischievous. Or conspiratorial. “I smiled and nodded and then wandered off as soon as they were looking the other way.”
Malue giggled and then clapped his hands over his mouth.
“Anyway,” Idan went on, “I was off exploring and looking at all the other people and there’s no one anywhere who’s even close to our age.”
“Except us?”
“Except us,” he confirmed. “You’re the first other child I found.” He sighed. “Well, at least there’s someone to talk to. I mean, um, if you don’t mind, sorry, I don’t wanna be rude or follow you around everywhere or…you can say if I’m bothering you, I won’t be mad, I promise.”
His eyes went all big and pleading and oh, there was no way Malue could’ve said no to that face even if he wanted to. “I’m not mad,” he assured Idan. “You can follow me around all you want.”
He brightened immediately. “Great! Wanna come exploring with me?”
“Maybe later,” Malue said. “You should probably go back and check in with your guards and everyone. If you’ve been exploring for a while, they’re probably missing you.”
Idan’s face fell. “Oh, that’s right. But I’ll see you later, though, right?”
“Absolutely,” he promised. “Just come find me.”
“I will,” he promised, then slid off the bed. “Thank you again, Prince Malue, for helping me,” he said, with a very careful full-court bow in a style Malue didn’t quite recognize.
“You’re very welcome, Prince Idan,” he said, with a corresponding full-court bow of his own, that sent both of them into cascades of giggles before the younger boy wandered off, back to his own suite and his own layer of protections.
Suddenly, the Holy City was a lot less boring. Malue was almost looking forward to lording it over Enairi when he got home.
Story: Learning Diplomacy
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Liver #13. knee, Oliphaunt Grey #15. If ever you'd met me you wouldn't forget me, Plant Party #20. Bird of paradise
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (Opening Ceremonies), canvas, oils, novelty beads (We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit. - Aristotle),
Word Count: 2204
Rating: PG
Characters: Malue, Idan
Warnings: Don't think so.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
Malue was bored. Endlessly, hopelessly bored; and he was more than a little ashamed of that fact. But, then again, that might explain why Father had sent him here. He was supposed to learn how to properly be a king, and part of that was being very still and very well-behaved and very solemn when he was bored.
He sighed, and stared at the rain dripping down the window of the room he’d been assigned here in the Holy City. Remember why you’re here. Remember who you’re here representing. You have to make Father proud and not shame all of Nandere. Even if you don’t know or care about the old man who died, and you don’t want to be so far away from home, and you don’t want…it doesn’t matter. You’re going to be king someday, that means you have to learn how to behave even when you don’t want to.
When he put it like that, in his head, of course it made perfect sense. Of course he would do it, of course he would behave and be everything expected of him.
Except funerals were boring, and all the priests around him were quiet and either treated him like he was younger than Enairi or like he was already grown up. And, of course, he was behaving when people were around, he was going to behave himself. He didn’t want to shame his entire nation, and he knew how to make proper small talk with adults. It was just they seemed to think he knew a lot more than he did, and he got lost. Or they treated him like he was little and…
He sighed again and made a face at the window. He was supposed to be sad and solemn and very, very correct. But all he really was was bored.
He was pulled out of his sulk by hearing something skittering into some kind of crash out in the hallway. He jumped a little, and hesitated. He should probably compose himself or something before he went and saw what was going on out there, except…well, he was probably young enough that he could get away with not doing that. And someone could be hurt. He shouldn’t leave someone hurt and all alone out there. That would be mean, and much more shameful than not being Exactly Perfect All The Time.
That decided, Malue headed for the door and poked his head out--on reflection, he was probably very much upsetting the guards that Father had sent with him, but, well, once a king decided what he was going to do, he had to stick with it, didn’t he? And Malue was determined to be a good king, even if not exactly in the style his father might prefer.
Outside in the hallway, there was a boy picking himself up. He was a bit younger than Malue, maybe Enairi’s age, and looked more annoyed than hurt. That was good, at least. He was wearing a black suit that was just a little big on him, as if he’d been sent here fast enough that there wasn’t really time to tailor it properly, and he hadn’t needed one before then.
He was probably some other king’s son, sent here for the funeral and election and all of that. But whoever he was, he was probably going to be a lot more interesting to talk to than any of the adults had proven to be. Besides, part of being a king was being diplomatic, right? Spending time with another king’s son was good practice.
Yes. Obviously, the right, perfect, proper thing to do for a young king in training was to talk to the strange boy who’d tripped in the hallway outside his borrowed apartments in a completely unfamiliar city.
“Are you all right?” Malue asked, pushing the door all the way open and stepping out to offer him a hand.
“Oh!” The boy looked up. He had clear amber eyes, a few shades lighter than his hair, which was soft and curly and golden brown. “Yeah--yes. I’m. Um. I’m fine. Thank you.” He accepted Malue’s hand and stood up with care. He couldn’t quite hide making a face as he stood.
“Are you sure?” He gave the younger boy a quick once-over. He didn’t see any blood, but the boy’s suit was all black, so it might not show. And even bruises could hurt a lot, if they were in the right place.
“Uh-huh,” he said, then, “Ow.”
Malue hid a smile. “What hurts? Here, you can come in and maybe I can help. My brother and I fall down lots and usually we don’t want to bother anyone about it…”
The boy hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah--yes. Please. That would be very kind, thank you.” He rushed through it almost mechanically, which basically confirmed what Malue had suspected. This boy was here for the same reasons he was--to learn how to properly be a prince and a diplomat and, eventually, a king.
“Come on, right this way,” Malue said, keeping hold of the younger boy’s hand and pulling him in and shutting the door behind him. “What hurts? You never answered that part.”
“Oh. Um.” He hesitated for a minute, with a faint frown, as if he was thinking. “My hands and my right knee mostly. And it’s not that bad, ‘cept when I bended it weird earlier.”
Malue dug around under his bed for where he’d put his emergency supplies. He hadn’t been lying, before, when he’d said that he and Enairi fell down a lot and cleaned themselves up as much as possible--they were boys, and boys were supposed to play rough with each other and that meant falling down sometimes. But if they went to Mamma or Father or one of the guards or one of their tutors or anyone official, it would become a Very Big Deal. Especially if Malue was the one who got hurt. They might be supposed to play rough with each other, but if there was any actual damage…
It meant all kinds of flurried activities and fussing and, when it inevitably turned out that they weren’t hurt bad--and they never were; they were always careful--then would come the just as inevitable Lecture about Proper Conduct And Behavior. Father was very, very good at that lecture.
He found his kit and wriggled back out from under the bed. “Right. First, we check for--no, wait, first, check and make sure you can bend your knee all the way. Does that work?”
The boy frowned a little, but stuck his leg straight out, then bent it all the way back as if he was about to sit on it. He made a face again. “Ow. Um. It all moves, it just hurts.”
Now that he was looking closer, Malue could see where there was a little bit of what might have been a darker, wet spot on the knee of his leggings. “All right. So that means it’s prob’ly not broken or dis--it’s still where it’s supposed to be. That’s good; that means we don’t have to tell anyone, ‘cause they’ll all make it a bigger problem than it needs to be.”
He nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes. They do that where you’re from, too?”
“All the time,” Malue said. “But it does look like you’re bleeding a bit, so I’m gonna clean it up and bandage it, all right?”
He nodded again. “Grown-ups are stupid,” he said, loftily. “Ow!”
“Sorry, I should’ve warned you. It kind of stings when I do this.” Or, at least, it always did when he did it for himself. And Enairi made the same complaint the few times when he was the one who got hurt. Usually, he was more careful and ended up quietly cleaning Malue up after accidents before they had to tell anyone important.
“It’s fine,” the boy said.
“All right, I think that’s done,” Malue said, after liberally splashing the cleaning fluid he and Enairi had stolen from the palace infirmary over the boy’s bleeding knee. It wasn’t bleeding too bad, just scraped a little. It wasn’t even puffy, but would probably turn all kinds of pretty colors in the next couple of days.
He pulled out a roll of bandages and wrapped it up, and then pulled the boy’s leggings back down over it.
“Thanks,” he said, and smiled again.
“Welcome,” Malue said, smiling back. “You said your hands hurt, too. Can I see?”
“Sure,” he said, and stuck them out.
They weren’t even as bad as the knee. Scraped too, but not enough to bleed. “They’ll probably sting for a while, but you’ll be fine,” Malue decided. “I should clean ‘em just to be safe, but they don’t need to be wrapped, I don’t think. Ready?”
The boy nodded and took a deep breath, bracing himself. “All right. Do it.”
Malue smiled at him, then cleaned his hands. The boy just hissed this time, but held still and suffered through it. “All done.”
“Thanks again,” he said, with a grin. “Um. My name’s Idan. My papa sent me here because the High Priest died and someone had to come, and my big brother’s sick so he couldn’t.”
“I’m Malue,” he replied. “My father sent me here for the same reason. Except I’m the oldest. I’m sorry about your brother; I hope he gets better soon.” There was something familiar about the name Idan, which was part of why he fell back on the easy, automatic courtesy of the formulaic sympathy. But he couldn’t quite place why the name was familiar, or whether or not it was an important familiarity. He knew the names of all the royal families of all the countries on the continent, of course, and a few from the other continents, too. It was all part of what was expected from a good prince, a good king. He couldn’t place exactly which family Idan came from.
It probably wasn’t important. Probably just one of the dozens and hundreds of names he’d memorized as a matter of course.
“I’m pretty sure he’ll be fine,” Idan said. “My big brother’s amazing, he’ll get better from anything. And he’s not really sick, just not supposed to travel or something. He’ll probably be fine when I get back, and mad he missed this.”
“Why?” Malue asked. “It’s so boring.”
“Yeah--yes,” he agreed. “Except it’s going to a totally new place and meeting totally new people and something I got to do that he didn’t. So even if it’s totally boring the whole time…”
“I think I get it,” he said, considering that for a moment. Enairi might even be jealous, too. Probably not, though. Because Enairi was perfect.
Or, at least, Father seemed to think he was. Enairi never did things wrong, never messed up the way Malue did all the time. Or it always seemed like Father felt that way, anyway. Maybe Malue just didn’t see it when Enairi messed up because Father never yelled at them in front of each other.
“I don’t think any of the other kings sent their children,” Idan said. “I was off exploring--”
“You were exploring?” Malue interrupted. “They told me I had to stay put.”
“They told me the same thing,” the younger boy said, then gave him a wink that could only be called mischievous. Or conspiratorial. “I smiled and nodded and then wandered off as soon as they were looking the other way.”
Malue giggled and then clapped his hands over his mouth.
“Anyway,” Idan went on, “I was off exploring and looking at all the other people and there’s no one anywhere who’s even close to our age.”
“Except us?”
“Except us,” he confirmed. “You’re the first other child I found.” He sighed. “Well, at least there’s someone to talk to. I mean, um, if you don’t mind, sorry, I don’t wanna be rude or follow you around everywhere or…you can say if I’m bothering you, I won’t be mad, I promise.”
His eyes went all big and pleading and oh, there was no way Malue could’ve said no to that face even if he wanted to. “I’m not mad,” he assured Idan. “You can follow me around all you want.”
He brightened immediately. “Great! Wanna come exploring with me?”
“Maybe later,” Malue said. “You should probably go back and check in with your guards and everyone. If you’ve been exploring for a while, they’re probably missing you.”
Idan’s face fell. “Oh, that’s right. But I’ll see you later, though, right?”
“Absolutely,” he promised. “Just come find me.”
“I will,” he promised, then slid off the bed. “Thank you again, Prince Malue, for helping me,” he said, with a very careful full-court bow in a style Malue didn’t quite recognize.
“You’re very welcome, Prince Idan,” he said, with a corresponding full-court bow of his own, that sent both of them into cascades of giggles before the younger boy wandered off, back to his own suite and his own layer of protections.
Suddenly, the Holy City was a lot less boring. Malue was almost looking forward to lording it over Enairi when he got home.
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Malue and Idan are definitely adorable, and Idan is definitely a Presence in the story in the story. How direct that presence is remains to be determined...