Something Turning (Summer Challenge, Rocky Road)
‘Verse: The Sun, Radiant
Challenges/Toppings/Extras: Summer Challenge ‘14: Special Brownie #11 (And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden) & Akutaq #14 (totem pole), Rocky Road #18 (a garden)
Rating: PG-13 (violence)
Title: Something Turning
Summary: A king and a queen meet again.
Notes: I’m thinking Arambh's culture is a weird mix of Ancient Egypt and India with a bit of shamanism and my personal touches.
Woo over 1,000 words! 1,288 to be exact.
He was different, this westlander. A large man, though not as large as some in his entourage; a listener and watcher; and blue eyed! Blue eyes, the rarest color among the Arambhi people. Green eyes ran in my family - it was considered in some, far-flung places of the kingdom to be “the royal sign”, even moreso than the Peacock Crown of my forefathers. (I wasn’t wearing it now, of course; it was for court and public appearances, and too heavy for a walk in the gardens with Fallstar’s king. But the green eyes, those I would never be able to leave in the treasury.)
I hurried down the hall towards the gardens, Ravir padding, silently as always, behind. My guard-consort’s presence was as palpable as the heat, and I doubted I would have been able to give him the slip as I had the night before when I met with King Gavin in the Hall of the Sun. Ravir disapproved, I knew, but it was not like I was in danger. And Gavin wouldn’t reveal it any more than I would - he had confided that his council (such a concept!) was clamoring for him to choose a bride from the nobility of Fallstar. A secret meeting with a foreign, unmarried queen, no matter how innocuous, would jeopardize the entire point of the royal visit: a peace agreement. Never mind that I was, at least in my culture, already wed. Twice. But the taking of two consorts, to the westlanders? Scandalous.
So many things, scandalous to them. Our mass funeral-celebrations, our practical dress (wear cloaks or heavy cloth in this heat? Ha!), even how we remembered our ancestors as they were.
I stepped outside, where it was just as hot, staying under the second-floor balconies. The pillars had symbols of protection, longevity and more carved into the marble by skilled hands; these carvings had existed since the capital had moved four hundred years ago and the palace itself was built. Touched by many hands over these years, the carvings had smoothed so they were barely visible. I stopped at the eighth pillar, just before the turn to the gardens, and said a quick prayer before the carving of the waxing half-moon for luck. Even that was different - in Fallstar, my advisors said, supplicants knelt and stayed silent for hours at a time before abstract sculptures. Here in Arambh, all the possible things one could pray for were carved into pillars, most of which were in the city square, although totems specific to each family decorated every home as well. Stores had totems of the hare, symbols of prosperity, and others depending on their trade; here in the palace the dominant symbol was the sun, as it was on the royal crest and seal. We touched the symbols for their power, or bowed our heads before them. Our prayers were quick and to the point. Only the great masters of the spirit-arts spent any amount of time on prayers or meditations.
The more I thought about them, the more our differences seemed insurmountable.
Another few steps, then I emerged from the shade into the verdant lushness of the palace gardens. Gavin (I thought of him by his name though I did not yet call him by it, not in private and certainly not in public) stood by the fountain, watching the water trickle down the petals of the giant stone lotus that formed the centerpiece. A few paces away, a guard in Fallstar’s colors sweltered in his heavy breastplate even while scanning the area for threats.
The guard alerted first to my approach. Good, he was competent, at least in that department. I could nearly feel Ravir scrutinizing his counterpart, and Gavin whom he had met only briefly. I doubted the king knew my first consort doubled as my guard. At the ceremonial meeting on the palace steps, when I formally greeted the Fallstar delegation, Ravir had been firmly in the consort role.
Gavin turned, then, and his eyes alighted on me. I suddenly was conscious of the way the flowing white silks would look to him against my darker skin, but I resisted the urge to adjust them or fidget.
He smiled, and it reached his eyes. I breathed a bit easier. He glanced at the ornate dagger on my hip, but said nothing.
“It is mostly ceremonial. Since my coronation I have not needed it, though I still practice the bow on occasion, to stay sharp,” I said. “Good afternoon, King Gavin.”
“Queen Ruhana. The bow? That is a fine weapon,” he replied, though by then he had spotted Ravir and started. I had been correct; he was surprised to find the man who’d previously been in silks and jewels now dressed like an ordinary palace guard (though without the cap and standard-issue sword - he wore no weapons at all, which I’m sure confused Gavin further).
“Ravir, First Consort of Arambh,” I said, gesturing.
Ravir grinned. “I like to stay busy.” He was scanning the parapet in the distance, no doubt looking for assassins, while his Fallstar counterpart searched the palace windows.
“Hmm. Pardon me,” Gavin said shortly, then addressed the guard in exasperation. “Matthew, you’re sweating like a pig. Go change.”
“But-” Matthew cut himself off, blushing.
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
He could not disobey, though his face said he desperately wanted to, and not because we were in the open. Touched by the war, I thought. He left with a bow, straight-backed and close to running.
Gavin grimaced. “Apologies, good lady. He is distrustful.”
“It is no issue. I understand that the rift between our nations will not be so easily closed.”
“I agree-” Gavin’s eyes slid away from me, over my left shoulder where I knew Ravir was.
Ravir darted forward just as I turned my head, tugging me back by the arm as a flash of metal whistled down from the palace wall.
But I was not the target. Ravir let go, and I stumbled back by my momentum, my sandals snagging on the edge of my dress and sending me crashing to the ground. Gavin, oh, he was sinking to his knees, scrabbling at his back where a throwing knife was lodged.
I scrambled forward on my hands and knees, tearing off a strip of silk and wrapping it around the knife handle where it stuck out, trying to stop the blood leaking out. Gavin was in finery, but no breastplate, and the cloth was not thick enough to stop the whole blade from burying itself.
I saw Ravir out of the corner of my eye, standing by us and looking like he didn’t know whether to go after the assassin or remain with his queen. “Go, love!” I yelled, hearing the clamor of the guard arriving on the scene and knowing Ravir would be the only one fast enough to catch the attacker, even if he had run before the blade landed.
He nodded and was off, dashing across the stone work straight for the wall. He didn’t bother with the stairs, tearing off his gauntlets mid-step and launching himself at the stone, scrambling up the sheer face with all the agility of a monkey and more. Slim but strong fingers found purchase between the tight bricks as easily as climbing a ladder. Then he was over the top and gone, following a trail only he could see.
The guards arrived, from both nations, including Matthew whose face was ashen green. They carried Gavin away to the healers, and insisted I come as well though I was sure I was fine, just shaken.
Such a brazen attack could only have been my sister’s doing.
Challenges/Toppings/Extras: Summer Challenge ‘14: Special Brownie #11 (And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden) & Akutaq #14 (totem pole), Rocky Road #18 (a garden)
Rating: PG-13 (violence)
Title: Something Turning
Summary: A king and a queen meet again.
Notes: I’m thinking Arambh's culture is a weird mix of Ancient Egypt and India with a bit of shamanism and my personal touches.
Woo over 1,000 words! 1,288 to be exact.
He was different, this westlander. A large man, though not as large as some in his entourage; a listener and watcher; and blue eyed! Blue eyes, the rarest color among the Arambhi people. Green eyes ran in my family - it was considered in some, far-flung places of the kingdom to be “the royal sign”, even moreso than the Peacock Crown of my forefathers. (I wasn’t wearing it now, of course; it was for court and public appearances, and too heavy for a walk in the gardens with Fallstar’s king. But the green eyes, those I would never be able to leave in the treasury.)
I hurried down the hall towards the gardens, Ravir padding, silently as always, behind. My guard-consort’s presence was as palpable as the heat, and I doubted I would have been able to give him the slip as I had the night before when I met with King Gavin in the Hall of the Sun. Ravir disapproved, I knew, but it was not like I was in danger. And Gavin wouldn’t reveal it any more than I would - he had confided that his council (such a concept!) was clamoring for him to choose a bride from the nobility of Fallstar. A secret meeting with a foreign, unmarried queen, no matter how innocuous, would jeopardize the entire point of the royal visit: a peace agreement. Never mind that I was, at least in my culture, already wed. Twice. But the taking of two consorts, to the westlanders? Scandalous.
So many things, scandalous to them. Our mass funeral-celebrations, our practical dress (wear cloaks or heavy cloth in this heat? Ha!), even how we remembered our ancestors as they were.
I stepped outside, where it was just as hot, staying under the second-floor balconies. The pillars had symbols of protection, longevity and more carved into the marble by skilled hands; these carvings had existed since the capital had moved four hundred years ago and the palace itself was built. Touched by many hands over these years, the carvings had smoothed so they were barely visible. I stopped at the eighth pillar, just before the turn to the gardens, and said a quick prayer before the carving of the waxing half-moon for luck. Even that was different - in Fallstar, my advisors said, supplicants knelt and stayed silent for hours at a time before abstract sculptures. Here in Arambh, all the possible things one could pray for were carved into pillars, most of which were in the city square, although totems specific to each family decorated every home as well. Stores had totems of the hare, symbols of prosperity, and others depending on their trade; here in the palace the dominant symbol was the sun, as it was on the royal crest and seal. We touched the symbols for their power, or bowed our heads before them. Our prayers were quick and to the point. Only the great masters of the spirit-arts spent any amount of time on prayers or meditations.
The more I thought about them, the more our differences seemed insurmountable.
Another few steps, then I emerged from the shade into the verdant lushness of the palace gardens. Gavin (I thought of him by his name though I did not yet call him by it, not in private and certainly not in public) stood by the fountain, watching the water trickle down the petals of the giant stone lotus that formed the centerpiece. A few paces away, a guard in Fallstar’s colors sweltered in his heavy breastplate even while scanning the area for threats.
The guard alerted first to my approach. Good, he was competent, at least in that department. I could nearly feel Ravir scrutinizing his counterpart, and Gavin whom he had met only briefly. I doubted the king knew my first consort doubled as my guard. At the ceremonial meeting on the palace steps, when I formally greeted the Fallstar delegation, Ravir had been firmly in the consort role.
Gavin turned, then, and his eyes alighted on me. I suddenly was conscious of the way the flowing white silks would look to him against my darker skin, but I resisted the urge to adjust them or fidget.
He smiled, and it reached his eyes. I breathed a bit easier. He glanced at the ornate dagger on my hip, but said nothing.
“It is mostly ceremonial. Since my coronation I have not needed it, though I still practice the bow on occasion, to stay sharp,” I said. “Good afternoon, King Gavin.”
“Queen Ruhana. The bow? That is a fine weapon,” he replied, though by then he had spotted Ravir and started. I had been correct; he was surprised to find the man who’d previously been in silks and jewels now dressed like an ordinary palace guard (though without the cap and standard-issue sword - he wore no weapons at all, which I’m sure confused Gavin further).
“Ravir, First Consort of Arambh,” I said, gesturing.
Ravir grinned. “I like to stay busy.” He was scanning the parapet in the distance, no doubt looking for assassins, while his Fallstar counterpart searched the palace windows.
“Hmm. Pardon me,” Gavin said shortly, then addressed the guard in exasperation. “Matthew, you’re sweating like a pig. Go change.”
“But-” Matthew cut himself off, blushing.
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
He could not disobey, though his face said he desperately wanted to, and not because we were in the open. Touched by the war, I thought. He left with a bow, straight-backed and close to running.
Gavin grimaced. “Apologies, good lady. He is distrustful.”
“It is no issue. I understand that the rift between our nations will not be so easily closed.”
“I agree-” Gavin’s eyes slid away from me, over my left shoulder where I knew Ravir was.
Ravir darted forward just as I turned my head, tugging me back by the arm as a flash of metal whistled down from the palace wall.
But I was not the target. Ravir let go, and I stumbled back by my momentum, my sandals snagging on the edge of my dress and sending me crashing to the ground. Gavin, oh, he was sinking to his knees, scrabbling at his back where a throwing knife was lodged.
I scrambled forward on my hands and knees, tearing off a strip of silk and wrapping it around the knife handle where it stuck out, trying to stop the blood leaking out. Gavin was in finery, but no breastplate, and the cloth was not thick enough to stop the whole blade from burying itself.
I saw Ravir out of the corner of my eye, standing by us and looking like he didn’t know whether to go after the assassin or remain with his queen. “Go, love!” I yelled, hearing the clamor of the guard arriving on the scene and knowing Ravir would be the only one fast enough to catch the attacker, even if he had run before the blade landed.
He nodded and was off, dashing across the stone work straight for the wall. He didn’t bother with the stairs, tearing off his gauntlets mid-step and launching himself at the stone, scrambling up the sheer face with all the agility of a monkey and more. Slim but strong fingers found purchase between the tight bricks as easily as climbing a ladder. Then he was over the top and gone, following a trail only he could see.
The guards arrived, from both nations, including Matthew whose face was ashen green. They carried Gavin away to the healers, and insisted I come as well though I was sure I was fine, just shaken.
Such a brazen attack could only have been my sister’s doing.