For writerverse!
Title: Starting Over
Prompt: Challenge #12: Weekly Quick Fic #4: Trespassing
Bonus? no
Word Count: 588
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any) n/a
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): none
Summary: Sometimes you have to dream new dreams.
Shalar entered the study quietly, closing the door behind him. He had been in here with his mother almost every day as a child, but now that she was gone, it felt... bad, somehow, to be in there, almost as if he was disturbing her grave. Yet, trying to visit her actual grave had felt deeply wrong; it was beautiful, it was undeniably something she would have liked--but she wasn't there in any sense. In her study, even more than a year later, there was still a faint sense of her presence.
Maybe in time that would bring him comfort, but at the moment, being surrounded by reminders of her still just hurt. Fortunately, he didn't need to stay for long; he just needed one thing, and then he could walk away.
As important as the book was to both of them, it wasn't hidden; he walked straight to the bookshelf he remembered in the back of the room and took out an unmarked, slim volume. It seemed everything he did was in slow motion as of late; for a moment after taking the book, he just stood there and looked at it. His throat hurt. He was sure she had planned to gift it to him, on the day he recieved the knight's shield that had once been hers... but that was never going to happen now. At least she hadn't lived to know it.
The feeling that he shouldn't even be in here, let alone taking something out of it, only got worse with the book in hand; he knew very well he wasn't "supposed" to have it. The book held no real secrets, but it was still something for the eyes of sworn knights only.
"Why should it matter?" he asked the room at large, his voice too quiet to be heard perhaps by anyone. "If I'm not a sworn knight, or a page, or a squire, then none of their vows apply. They threw me away, but after an entire lifetime dedicated to those ideals... I can't throw those away entirely." Even if he was never again truthful about his past to anyone, it would still be part of him, part of who he was.
Shalar's view of the book in his hands blurred for a moment. "I hope this is all right, Mother." He just needed something of hers, and of everything his father had encouraged him to take, this meant the most. Any active knight would tell him in no uncertain terms that he was not supposed to have it--but he wasn't supposed to be able to read it, either. It was against regulations to teach him when she did, but he had been near the top of his class, and who could say no to a dying woman's last wishes?
He hugged the book to his chest, then slipped it into the bag at his side and took one last look around the room. "I don't know when I'll be back," he whispered. "But it--but that doesn't mean anything. I love you. I'll always miss you. And... thank you."
He listened to see if there would be any kind of reply; he couldn't hear anything anymore and he hadn't ever been able to understand whispers, but maybe...
The room remained as silent as the rest of his world, but for a moment he thought he caught the barest hint of his mother's favorite scent. He managed a small smile for her, then left the way he had come.
Prompt: Challenge #12: Weekly Quick Fic #4: Trespassing
Bonus? no
Word Count: 588
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any) n/a
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): none
Summary: Sometimes you have to dream new dreams.
Shalar entered the study quietly, closing the door behind him. He had been in here with his mother almost every day as a child, but now that she was gone, it felt... bad, somehow, to be in there, almost as if he was disturbing her grave. Yet, trying to visit her actual grave had felt deeply wrong; it was beautiful, it was undeniably something she would have liked--but she wasn't there in any sense. In her study, even more than a year later, there was still a faint sense of her presence.
Maybe in time that would bring him comfort, but at the moment, being surrounded by reminders of her still just hurt. Fortunately, he didn't need to stay for long; he just needed one thing, and then he could walk away.
As important as the book was to both of them, it wasn't hidden; he walked straight to the bookshelf he remembered in the back of the room and took out an unmarked, slim volume. It seemed everything he did was in slow motion as of late; for a moment after taking the book, he just stood there and looked at it. His throat hurt. He was sure she had planned to gift it to him, on the day he recieved the knight's shield that had once been hers... but that was never going to happen now. At least she hadn't lived to know it.
The feeling that he shouldn't even be in here, let alone taking something out of it, only got worse with the book in hand; he knew very well he wasn't "supposed" to have it. The book held no real secrets, but it was still something for the eyes of sworn knights only.
"Why should it matter?" he asked the room at large, his voice too quiet to be heard perhaps by anyone. "If I'm not a sworn knight, or a page, or a squire, then none of their vows apply. They threw me away, but after an entire lifetime dedicated to those ideals... I can't throw those away entirely." Even if he was never again truthful about his past to anyone, it would still be part of him, part of who he was.
Shalar's view of the book in his hands blurred for a moment. "I hope this is all right, Mother." He just needed something of hers, and of everything his father had encouraged him to take, this meant the most. Any active knight would tell him in no uncertain terms that he was not supposed to have it--but he wasn't supposed to be able to read it, either. It was against regulations to teach him when she did, but he had been near the top of his class, and who could say no to a dying woman's last wishes?
He hugged the book to his chest, then slipped it into the bag at his side and took one last look around the room. "I don't know when I'll be back," he whispered. "But it--but that doesn't mean anything. I love you. I'll always miss you. And... thank you."
He listened to see if there would be any kind of reply; he couldn't hear anything anymore and he hadn't ever been able to understand whispers, but maybe...
The room remained as silent as the rest of his world, but for a moment he thought he caught the barest hint of his mother's favorite scent. He managed a small smile for her, then left the way he had come.