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rainbowfic2026-05-20 11:12 am
bitzsoii) wrote in rainbowfic2026-05-20 11:12 am
Dandelion Yellow #10 and Shocking Pink #5
Name: You Were Found Wanting
Story: Chronicles of Tydas
Colors: dandelion yellow #10 (distant), shocking pink #5 (impassive)
Supplies and Styles: Charcoal
Word Count: 1,056
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Gwion meets with the council secretly to convince them to make him Tydian King instead of his brother.
Beyond the crownwall, the city hummed with activity: Vendors called out from their marketplace stalls, and horse hooves sounded off sharply along the cobblestone as carts were pulled. Citizens called out to each other from homes or stores, as slowly but surely the news of King Coridan was passed from ear to ear.
Despite the kingdom moving in a steady rhythm across the castle grounds, the Ringhall was separate from it all. Its thick stone walls blunted out the sounds of the castle while the warmth of the sun was sealed out by tall glass windows, keeping the air cool inside. No banners hung on the wall, and the scent of parchment and incense that had long burned out lingered in the air. Sitting at the round table were only five elder councilors—three men and two women. The chamber felt smaller without the full Tydarian council, but it was enough.
The younger of the Elantine princes stood before them. Gwion's hands were clasped behind his back, his fingers locked hard enough to blanch his skin, while his posture was carefully restrained. He felt the need to show how important this meeting was in his stature. He didn't look at the floor, and he didn't pace. He simply commanded the room by standing in it. His eyes regarded each member before he opened his mouth.
"I requested this audience in confidence. I will be direct."
A gray-streaked councilwoman inclined her head as her right hand gestured outward. "You may speak, highness," she said.
Gwion drew a measured breath, the chill of the chamber filling his lungs. "I ask that you reassess your decision on Tydian King."
His words settled inside the chamber, and heavy and uncertain silence followed after them.
A councilman gave a slight frown of confusion. "On what grounds?" He asked. A muscle jumped in Gwion's jaw.
"On the grounds of reason."
Not one person at the table responded to that, their faces impassive. Their lack of reaction stung Gwion more than the refusal of him being king. He took a step forward, his left boot scraping against the stone floor. That sound broke the silence.
"So that's it?" Gwion asked as he shook his head in slight disbelief, his composure cracking slightly. "One death and suddenly the world reshapes itself around Sol?"
Gwion's crass words regarding the death of the Tydian King made several councilors shift in their seats, but discomfort rippled throughout the table. One elder councilman rose slowly, his eyes straight on the young prince's as the chair scraped softly. "Choose your words carefully," He cautioned, leaning over and slightly pointing at the table. He glowered as Gwion let out a short, humorless laugh.
"I am choosing them carefully."
He swept his gaze over the table, looking at faces that once praised him when he was younger. "You all seem to forget that Sol wasn't the only son. Father raised me with potential to be the Tydian King. Probably even more so than Sol."
Everyone in the Ringhall knew this wasn't the truth.
"Preparedness is not the sole measure of a king," The elder replied.
Gwion's patienced snapped. "Then what is?" He demanded.
Silence fell again after his words echoed off of the walls. It was heavy and full of judgement. Even the sounds distant from the castle seemed to fade away. The elder started to slink back down into his seat, his deep voice breaking the silence again. "You speak as though your father's death were a formality." There were a few agreeing nods.
A humorless scoff came out, nearly forced. "Is that so? Don't talk to me about grief when you're rushing to place a crown on his head." Gwion glanced down and then back up at the council. "You speak as though Sol's ascension is inevitable."
"Enough," The elder said quietly. The word landed with finality, forcing Gwion to still.
His hands remained clenched behind his back, but his breath became shallow.
"You didn't even consider me." he spoke in a clear but lowered voice.
A darker haired councilwoman cocked her head. "You were considered," she said, making Gwion look up sharply, a flicker of hope appearing in his eyes.
However, a brown-haired councilman quickly added, "But you were found wanting."
The councilwoman glanced at him and then at Gwion with what looked like pity, as if she had been wanting to soften the blow. It was too late. The words had landed clean and surgical. There was no malice in them, only certainty.
Gwion didn't move for a heartbeat, then his mouth curved into a thin, controlled smile.
"Why exactly? Because I asked questions?"
"Because you seek the crown, not the burden," the elder replied, his eyes calm but no nonsense.
Gwion looked once more around the Ringhall, then back at the table. Other than the elder, not a single pair of eyes met his. He couldn't believe it.
"I can't believe that you won't even try to reconsider." Gwion's anger began to ease into something colder. He watched the elder councilor rise to his full height out of the chair.
"The Tydarian Council stands by its decision. Solaren Elantine will be Tydian King," He said with finality.
Gwion let out one more short laugh. Then he straightened and smoothed out his black coat with practiced composure. His eyes cut over to the council as he nodded, saying, "Thank you for your time and your honesty."
Not wanting another moment in front of these five people, Gwion turned and descended the steps, not taking a look over his shoulder. As soon as he was a few steps away from the Ringhall's entrance, he heard, "Wait."
Gwion paused but didn't turn. The dark-haired councilwoman said, "Prince Gwion, your role is not diminished by this decision." This made Gwion's mouth tighten.
Still giving them his back, he responded in a louder voice, "Isn't it?" before storming off. The door closed, sealing the Ringhall from the bright bustling day outdoors.
Story: Chronicles of Tydas
Colors: dandelion yellow #10 (distant), shocking pink #5 (impassive)
Supplies and Styles: Charcoal
Word Count: 1,056
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Gwion meets with the council secretly to convince them to make him Tydian King instead of his brother.
Beyond the crownwall, the city hummed with activity: Vendors called out from their marketplace stalls, and horse hooves sounded off sharply along the cobblestone as carts were pulled. Citizens called out to each other from homes or stores, as slowly but surely the news of King Coridan was passed from ear to ear.
Despite the kingdom moving in a steady rhythm across the castle grounds, the Ringhall was separate from it all. Its thick stone walls blunted out the sounds of the castle while the warmth of the sun was sealed out by tall glass windows, keeping the air cool inside. No banners hung on the wall, and the scent of parchment and incense that had long burned out lingered in the air. Sitting at the round table were only five elder councilors—three men and two women. The chamber felt smaller without the full Tydarian council, but it was enough.
The younger of the Elantine princes stood before them. Gwion's hands were clasped behind his back, his fingers locked hard enough to blanch his skin, while his posture was carefully restrained. He felt the need to show how important this meeting was in his stature. He didn't look at the floor, and he didn't pace. He simply commanded the room by standing in it. His eyes regarded each member before he opened his mouth.
"I requested this audience in confidence. I will be direct."
A gray-streaked councilwoman inclined her head as her right hand gestured outward. "You may speak, highness," she said.
Gwion drew a measured breath, the chill of the chamber filling his lungs. "I ask that you reassess your decision on Tydian King."
His words settled inside the chamber, and heavy and uncertain silence followed after them.
A councilman gave a slight frown of confusion. "On what grounds?" He asked. A muscle jumped in Gwion's jaw.
"On the grounds of reason."
Not one person at the table responded to that, their faces impassive. Their lack of reaction stung Gwion more than the refusal of him being king. He took a step forward, his left boot scraping against the stone floor. That sound broke the silence.
"So that's it?" Gwion asked as he shook his head in slight disbelief, his composure cracking slightly. "One death and suddenly the world reshapes itself around Sol?"
Gwion's crass words regarding the death of the Tydian King made several councilors shift in their seats, but discomfort rippled throughout the table. One elder councilman rose slowly, his eyes straight on the young prince's as the chair scraped softly. "Choose your words carefully," He cautioned, leaning over and slightly pointing at the table. He glowered as Gwion let out a short, humorless laugh.
"I am choosing them carefully."
He swept his gaze over the table, looking at faces that once praised him when he was younger. "You all seem to forget that Sol wasn't the only son. Father raised me with potential to be the Tydian King. Probably even more so than Sol."
Everyone in the Ringhall knew this wasn't the truth.
"Preparedness is not the sole measure of a king," The elder replied.
Gwion's patienced snapped. "Then what is?" He demanded.
Silence fell again after his words echoed off of the walls. It was heavy and full of judgement. Even the sounds distant from the castle seemed to fade away. The elder started to slink back down into his seat, his deep voice breaking the silence again. "You speak as though your father's death were a formality." There were a few agreeing nods.
A humorless scoff came out, nearly forced. "Is that so? Don't talk to me about grief when you're rushing to place a crown on his head." Gwion glanced down and then back up at the council. "You speak as though Sol's ascension is inevitable."
"Enough," The elder said quietly. The word landed with finality, forcing Gwion to still.
His hands remained clenched behind his back, but his breath became shallow.
"You didn't even consider me." he spoke in a clear but lowered voice.
A darker haired councilwoman cocked her head. "You were considered," she said, making Gwion look up sharply, a flicker of hope appearing in his eyes.
However, a brown-haired councilman quickly added, "But you were found wanting."
The councilwoman glanced at him and then at Gwion with what looked like pity, as if she had been wanting to soften the blow. It was too late. The words had landed clean and surgical. There was no malice in them, only certainty.
Gwion didn't move for a heartbeat, then his mouth curved into a thin, controlled smile.
"Why exactly? Because I asked questions?"
"Because you seek the crown, not the burden," the elder replied, his eyes calm but no nonsense.
Gwion looked once more around the Ringhall, then back at the table. Other than the elder, not a single pair of eyes met his. He couldn't believe it.
"I can't believe that you won't even try to reconsider." Gwion's anger began to ease into something colder. He watched the elder councilor rise to his full height out of the chair.
"The Tydarian Council stands by its decision. Solaren Elantine will be Tydian King," He said with finality.
Gwion let out one more short laugh. Then he straightened and smoothed out his black coat with practiced composure. His eyes cut over to the council as he nodded, saying, "Thank you for your time and your honesty."
Not wanting another moment in front of these five people, Gwion turned and descended the steps, not taking a look over his shoulder. As soon as he was a few steps away from the Ringhall's entrance, he heard, "Wait."
Gwion paused but didn't turn. The dark-haired councilwoman said, "Prince Gwion, your role is not diminished by this decision." This made Gwion's mouth tighten.
Still giving them his back, he responded in a louder voice, "Isn't it?" before storming off. The door closed, sealing the Ringhall from the bright bustling day outdoors.