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rainbowfic2020-05-31 11:51 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2020-05-31 11:51 pm
Red Summer Sun #10, Ruby #7, Jet Pack Blues #7
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Clever and Kind and Beautiful
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Red Summer Sun #10. There's a bone in my hand that connects to a drink, Ruby #7. fairest of them all, Jet Pack Blues #7. The only ring I want buried with me are the ones around my eyes
Supplies and Materials: photography, graffiti (May challenge), canvas, seed beads, novelty beads (a grave)
Word Count: 920
Rating: PG-13/R
Characters: Mellir
Warnings: Character/spousal death, alcoholism.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. Last Red Summer Sun! Just under the wire for the challenge, lol. Today, I learned something of the name and personality of Mellir's wife, none of which I had known before, whee...
It had happened so suddenly. So soon. Less than four months after the wedding, and now...
Maybe that was why Mellir was having such a hard time dealing with it.
Not that he hadn't--well, cared for her, at least. She was clever, and kind, and beautiful--not necessary for his wife, of course, since marriage for a prince wasn't really about that, but it was true--and probably deserved a lot better than she'd gotten. Which, well, few people got what they deserved, one way or another, so that was no surprise. Still.
He and Vaya had been married less than four months, and while he'd had even shorter relationships where he'd felt like his lover was the other half of his own soul...he felt as though he'd just barely gotten to know her.
This despite the fact that they'd at least met before the wedding. Before the contract was even signed. Most in his family chose their spouses from the local nobility, rather than marrying out-Kingdom, and he had been no exception. Father had given him a list of candidates, and he'd picked Vaya, mostly because Keta thought she would be a good match for him.
Besides, he and Vaya had met and spoken more than once at court events, and so on, and she had seemed nice enough on those occasions. She was close friends, even, with one of his former mistresses, so she'd known what she was getting into when she agreed to marry him.
And she was kind--to him, and, more importantly, to his children, even though they weren't hers.
And clever, too. Clever enough that...that even if Keta hadn't made him promise to try for her, Mellir thought he would have wanted to, anyway. Talking with her, in the evenings he spent at home rather than with one of his mistresses, made him want to stay sober, so he could hear what she had to say. So he could answer her. Give her what she wanted from him, make it worth spending her time with him, the way he always tried to do with his mistresses. His wife deserved at least that much courtesy from him.
Vaya had even made him actually give a damn about politics. Beyond the level that any man in his position had to, simply because he was who he was--second in line, until and unless Kellom had a child.
Five nights ago had been one of those nights. They'd stayed up late, after making love, just...talking--about his plans for his children's educations; about an infrastructure project Deva was championing; about the new trade treaty with Ketarre, and some of the changes in their mage-laws the High Prince was considering in connection with it. What said changes might mean, for his father and Kellom and the future of their kingdom and the rest of the continent.
They'd talked for hours before falling asleep, side by side. Comfortable, perhaps even verging on content, with each other and their future together.
But he'd awoken late the next morning--though not as late as he sometimes did--to find Vaya cold and still beside him.
No one could explain her death--so sudden, and she was so young, and healthy--so of course whispers of poison began right away but, really, what would be the point? Mellir may have been second in line until his brother had a child, but they were all still young enough that there was a long time before anyone had to be seriously concerned about the succession and Vaya's role in it. And she had no Movement ties that Mellir knew of, and his mistresses knew she was no threat to them or their children, so...
Vaya had been a threat to no one. Vaya had harmed no one. Vaya had been one of the best things in his life, and he'd only just begun to get to know her. To realize.
Mellir knew that, sooner or later, Father would probably want him to remarry. He just...hoped it would be later. Much later. It had been so sudden, and so soon, and even if it had been duty, even if they'd barely known each other...he was only just beginning to grasp the magnitude of what he'd lost. The idea of starting over was beyond him.
He wished he could say he made it through her funeral sober--she probably would have wanted that--but that would be lying. He'd needed that cushion; a buffer between seeing her laid out like that and remembering how she'd been the day before she'd died--laughing and playing with his children that afternoon; and then the way her dark, delicate eyebrows had lifted in surprise and delight, matching the faint smile she wore when he met her, point for counterpoint, while they talked...
Sober, he just couldn't face the contrast of her bone-white face lying still in the coffin, with how animated she'd been in life. Beautiful and clever and kind.
At least he hadn't fallen over, or embarrassed himself too badly. But, then again, he'd long since learned the line he could tread to keep up appareances for everyone watching from a distance. How drunk was too drunk for anything official. So he'd been just drunk enough to make it through.
He was almost proud of himself for that.
He'd stumbled to his room, after Vaya was in the vault, and poured himself another drink. He raised it to the sky--to her memory--and tossed it back.
The rest of the night was a blur, as the liquor and the ghost of Vaya's smile chased him down into darkness.
Story: Clever and Kind and Beautiful
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Red Summer Sun #10. There's a bone in my hand that connects to a drink, Ruby #7. fairest of them all, Jet Pack Blues #7. The only ring I want buried with me are the ones around my eyes
Supplies and Materials: photography, graffiti (May challenge), canvas, seed beads, novelty beads (a grave)
Word Count: 920
Rating: PG-13/R
Characters: Mellir
Warnings: Character/spousal death, alcoholism.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. Last Red Summer Sun! Just under the wire for the challenge, lol. Today, I learned something of the name and personality of Mellir's wife, none of which I had known before, whee...
It had happened so suddenly. So soon. Less than four months after the wedding, and now...
Maybe that was why Mellir was having such a hard time dealing with it.
Not that he hadn't--well, cared for her, at least. She was clever, and kind, and beautiful--not necessary for his wife, of course, since marriage for a prince wasn't really about that, but it was true--and probably deserved a lot better than she'd gotten. Which, well, few people got what they deserved, one way or another, so that was no surprise. Still.
He and Vaya had been married less than four months, and while he'd had even shorter relationships where he'd felt like his lover was the other half of his own soul...he felt as though he'd just barely gotten to know her.
This despite the fact that they'd at least met before the wedding. Before the contract was even signed. Most in his family chose their spouses from the local nobility, rather than marrying out-Kingdom, and he had been no exception. Father had given him a list of candidates, and he'd picked Vaya, mostly because Keta thought she would be a good match for him.
Besides, he and Vaya had met and spoken more than once at court events, and so on, and she had seemed nice enough on those occasions. She was close friends, even, with one of his former mistresses, so she'd known what she was getting into when she agreed to marry him.
And she was kind--to him, and, more importantly, to his children, even though they weren't hers.
And clever, too. Clever enough that...that even if Keta hadn't made him promise to try for her, Mellir thought he would have wanted to, anyway. Talking with her, in the evenings he spent at home rather than with one of his mistresses, made him want to stay sober, so he could hear what she had to say. So he could answer her. Give her what she wanted from him, make it worth spending her time with him, the way he always tried to do with his mistresses. His wife deserved at least that much courtesy from him.
Vaya had even made him actually give a damn about politics. Beyond the level that any man in his position had to, simply because he was who he was--second in line, until and unless Kellom had a child.
Five nights ago had been one of those nights. They'd stayed up late, after making love, just...talking--about his plans for his children's educations; about an infrastructure project Deva was championing; about the new trade treaty with Ketarre, and some of the changes in their mage-laws the High Prince was considering in connection with it. What said changes might mean, for his father and Kellom and the future of their kingdom and the rest of the continent.
They'd talked for hours before falling asleep, side by side. Comfortable, perhaps even verging on content, with each other and their future together.
But he'd awoken late the next morning--though not as late as he sometimes did--to find Vaya cold and still beside him.
No one could explain her death--so sudden, and she was so young, and healthy--so of course whispers of poison began right away but, really, what would be the point? Mellir may have been second in line until his brother had a child, but they were all still young enough that there was a long time before anyone had to be seriously concerned about the succession and Vaya's role in it. And she had no Movement ties that Mellir knew of, and his mistresses knew she was no threat to them or their children, so...
Vaya had been a threat to no one. Vaya had harmed no one. Vaya had been one of the best things in his life, and he'd only just begun to get to know her. To realize.
Mellir knew that, sooner or later, Father would probably want him to remarry. He just...hoped it would be later. Much later. It had been so sudden, and so soon, and even if it had been duty, even if they'd barely known each other...he was only just beginning to grasp the magnitude of what he'd lost. The idea of starting over was beyond him.
He wished he could say he made it through her funeral sober--she probably would have wanted that--but that would be lying. He'd needed that cushion; a buffer between seeing her laid out like that and remembering how she'd been the day before she'd died--laughing and playing with his children that afternoon; and then the way her dark, delicate eyebrows had lifted in surprise and delight, matching the faint smile she wore when he met her, point for counterpoint, while they talked...
Sober, he just couldn't face the contrast of her bone-white face lying still in the coffin, with how animated she'd been in life. Beautiful and clever and kind.
At least he hadn't fallen over, or embarrassed himself too badly. But, then again, he'd long since learned the line he could tread to keep up appareances for everyone watching from a distance. How drunk was too drunk for anything official. So he'd been just drunk enough to make it through.
He was almost proud of himself for that.
He'd stumbled to his room, after Vaya was in the vault, and poured himself another drink. He raised it to the sky--to her memory--and tossed it back.
The rest of the night was a blur, as the liquor and the ghost of Vaya's smile chased him down into darkness.
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Prompts:
1. smoke
2. crock pot
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And...uh...you're welcome???? XD
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Yeeeeeeah, she kind of was. XD But on the other hand, she walked into that knowing this? Like he says, she knows him by reputation and is close friends with a former mistress, so she knows exactly what she's getting out of the bargain. Mellir is a lot of...unrealized potential, because he has some Middle Child Syndrome issues and also alcoholism. But buried under all of that is actually someone who's pretty good at reading people and would probably make a savvy politician? Which is why I have a couple AUs where that actually happens XD Anyway, Vaya I think saw him as a gateway to something she wanted--probably not being Queen, but some kind of power/influence, most likely. Assuming she could draw out that potential somehow.
...but yeah, way too good for him XD
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Probably. XD I mean, I'm sure it'll eventually form itself, now that I have a better handle on her. It'll...most likely be fairly similar to the one where he accidentally starts that fire? Only a much less traumatic way to get him there. Quitting drinking/doing better because he wants to be worthy of her, as opposed to because he doesn't want to cause that kind of damage again.
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I may be a little too harsh on him, anyway. I always side-eye the boyfriends of excellent ladies. XD
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Yeah, this was...really not a good time in Mellir's life