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rainbowfic2025-01-31 11:59 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2025-01-31 11:59 pm
Metallic Gold #2
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Do You Ever Regret...
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Metallic Gold #2. friend,
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (Two-Faced Janus), life drawing, frame
Word Count: 655
Rating: PG
Characters: Riluke, Kes
Warnings: Some discussion of in-universe prejudices/stigmas (mostly relating to bastardy/illegitimate children).
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. Just under the wire, woo!
"Do you ever regret not having children?" Kes asked.
An unexpected question, but hardly the most personal one they'd asked each other on late nights like this one, with a bottle of wine and a table of personal and professional information between them.
And, well, maybe not all that unexpected, now that Riluke thought about it. Or at least the timing of the question did make a certain amount of sense; Kes had only just reconnected with her sister, who had two children of her own, and Riluke had just received a letter about Isselu.
For her, too, it was an easy answer.
"No," she said. "Do you?"
Kes tilted her head, her earrings softly chiming with the movement. "Sometimes, maybe. Not seriously. I'm not brave enough to bear a child on my ship, and I wouldn't've wanted to take the time away."
Riluke raised an eyebrow. "I'd heard a story or two about that, but I'd thought it was just..."
"A pirate lady with a reputation to embellish?" Kes said with a wry smile.
"Your words, not mine."
She laughed. "No, it's happened. Not often, mind, and usually when the child comes early or the mother has her dates wrong, but it has happened."
"Right," Riluke said, then refilled her glass. She held the bottle out with another raised eyebrow; when Kes nodded, she refilled hers, too. "But you said you wondered about it, sometimes?" From the way she'd put it, that seemed a better word than 'regret.'
"Yeah," she replied, more sure. Right word, indeed. "I grew up with sisters, and sometimes my house feels a little bit too quiet without kids runnin' in and out. And, sure, there's a few among my close kin, but that's not the same as mine. Part of my house. You know?"
"I think I understand."
"'Course, on the other hand, I'm happy with my life as it is," she said. "And babies take a hell of a lot of time and work. So...no, I don't regret it. But I do think about the choice I made, sometimes. You don't?"
She shook her head. "Like you said, children are hard work. And while I think I could be a decent mother, there are other things I'm better at. Things I would rather be better at, in ways I don't think I could if I were a mother, too." She considered her wine. "And besides, I am thoroughly uninterested in marriage, and I would not allow a child of mine to grow up with that lack hanging over them."
Not that her childhood or adolescence had been bad, exactly. She'd had her beloved cousins, her father and grandfather had loved her, Aunt Kesshare had probably been better to her than if she'd been legitimate, and her other aunts and uncles--Uncle Ineku in particular--had always been kind. Fond, even.
But still, there was always that awareness, undercutting everything. That she was and was not part of the family. That she was Lady Riluke, and not Princess Riluke, because her mother and her father had not had the maturity and self-discipline to do right by her and their families and marry before she was born. That she was half an outsider, standing on the boundary, just slightly other.
Kes didn't push the point--the Islands had their own stigmas, after all, as she knew better than most. No matter how much they'd both grown from their overshadowed childhoods.
"But even apart from that..." Riluke went on, and then shrugged. "I don't feel the lack the way you do, I don't think. The fact that there are no children belonging to my home doesn't bother me. So, no, I've never wondered about my choice. And, like you, I'm happy with my life as it is."
"Fair," Kes said. "And that's what matters most, anyway."
"Exactly," Riluke said, and raised her glass in a brief toast, and changed the subject.
Story: Do You Ever Regret...
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Metallic Gold #2. friend,
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (Two-Faced Janus), life drawing, frame
Word Count: 655
Rating: PG
Characters: Riluke, Kes
Warnings: Some discussion of in-universe prejudices/stigmas (mostly relating to bastardy/illegitimate children).
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. Just under the wire, woo!
"Do you ever regret not having children?" Kes asked.
An unexpected question, but hardly the most personal one they'd asked each other on late nights like this one, with a bottle of wine and a table of personal and professional information between them.
And, well, maybe not all that unexpected, now that Riluke thought about it. Or at least the timing of the question did make a certain amount of sense; Kes had only just reconnected with her sister, who had two children of her own, and Riluke had just received a letter about Isselu.
For her, too, it was an easy answer.
"No," she said. "Do you?"
Kes tilted her head, her earrings softly chiming with the movement. "Sometimes, maybe. Not seriously. I'm not brave enough to bear a child on my ship, and I wouldn't've wanted to take the time away."
Riluke raised an eyebrow. "I'd heard a story or two about that, but I'd thought it was just..."
"A pirate lady with a reputation to embellish?" Kes said with a wry smile.
"Your words, not mine."
She laughed. "No, it's happened. Not often, mind, and usually when the child comes early or the mother has her dates wrong, but it has happened."
"Right," Riluke said, then refilled her glass. She held the bottle out with another raised eyebrow; when Kes nodded, she refilled hers, too. "But you said you wondered about it, sometimes?" From the way she'd put it, that seemed a better word than 'regret.'
"Yeah," she replied, more sure. Right word, indeed. "I grew up with sisters, and sometimes my house feels a little bit too quiet without kids runnin' in and out. And, sure, there's a few among my close kin, but that's not the same as mine. Part of my house. You know?"
"I think I understand."
"'Course, on the other hand, I'm happy with my life as it is," she said. "And babies take a hell of a lot of time and work. So...no, I don't regret it. But I do think about the choice I made, sometimes. You don't?"
She shook her head. "Like you said, children are hard work. And while I think I could be a decent mother, there are other things I'm better at. Things I would rather be better at, in ways I don't think I could if I were a mother, too." She considered her wine. "And besides, I am thoroughly uninterested in marriage, and I would not allow a child of mine to grow up with that lack hanging over them."
Not that her childhood or adolescence had been bad, exactly. She'd had her beloved cousins, her father and grandfather had loved her, Aunt Kesshare had probably been better to her than if she'd been legitimate, and her other aunts and uncles--Uncle Ineku in particular--had always been kind. Fond, even.
But still, there was always that awareness, undercutting everything. That she was and was not part of the family. That she was Lady Riluke, and not Princess Riluke, because her mother and her father had not had the maturity and self-discipline to do right by her and their families and marry before she was born. That she was half an outsider, standing on the boundary, just slightly other.
Kes didn't push the point--the Islands had their own stigmas, after all, as she knew better than most. No matter how much they'd both grown from their overshadowed childhoods.
"But even apart from that..." Riluke went on, and then shrugged. "I don't feel the lack the way you do, I don't think. The fact that there are no children belonging to my home doesn't bother me. So, no, I've never wondered about my choice. And, like you, I'm happy with my life as it is."
"Fair," Kes said. "And that's what matters most, anyway."
"Exactly," Riluke said, and raised her glass in a brief toast, and changed the subject.
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1. http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcsblpGiuj1qa2o3yo1_1280.png
2. "You've never been more beautiful/Your eyes like two full moons/As here in this poor old dance hall/Among the dreadful tunes." - Nothing Matters When We're Dancing, The Antlers