Post by Verasque on Apr 9, 2010 14:44:32 GMT 10
Series: Paladin
Title: The Heroes That Hurt Us
Rating: G
Prompt: #3 Is it a groove or is it a rut?
Summary: They say the ones we love most, hurt us the greatest.
“Your Majesty!”
The groomsman looks panicked and his dark expression curls a terror deep in her chest for what it can possibly entail. “Please, my lady, it’s the Prince, he—”
But Lianne is already running, her skirts trailing behind her in disarray as her ladies call after her in surprise. She peers hurriedly into the rooms she passes, until finally, she hears the loud cries coming from the royal nursery. Nothing can stop her as she flies past the courtiers crowding in the hall, and all she sees is the endless path that she seems to be on, and how heavy her feet feel.
Are the children safe? Is Jon hurt? Her boy was only a few summers old…
She stops abruptly in the entrance of the room, her pulse thundering. Gary—little Gareth—is huddled on the floor, cradling his arm as Jon stands above him in shock. Her nephew is crying, trying to keep his sobs quiet, but the odd angle of his elbow suggests that the pain of his small arm is serious. She flicks a quick glance over Jon, and is relieved to find him unharmed. She’s about to hurry to Gary when Jon straightens.
“You deserve it,” he announces, triumph radiating from every unbroken bone in his body. Gary glares up at the younger boy, but chokes as the momentum distresses his arm. Something dark crosses Jon’s face and he tightens his grip on the small, practice sword in his hand. “This is mine,” he explains, “and you should ask first before using the Prince’s sword. My father had this made for me—not you. Who are you, Gary? You’re no one compared to me.”
“Jonathan of Conte,” Lianne says, the coldness in her voice startling all into silence. She motions for her ladies to attend to Gary, and when everyone bows low, Jonathan refuses to. His mouth is open in surprise, not understanding why he is being subject to such treatment from his own mother. Lianne’s hands clench, and a wave of failure kicks her in the stomach.
“You will go to your chambers now.” Her orders echo off the walls, loud and foreign. And she prays to the Goddess that Jonathan will fear it. “You have shown yourself to be unkind and selfish, and for that you must be punished.”
“But why? It is my sw—”
“Do you dare disobey your Queen?” The ache intensifies, turns into anger at the way Jonathan’s chin lifts stubbornly. “You say you are a prince, but you have not been that today. You have hurt your own kin—revelled in his pain because you cannot share. I will not have that in my palace. So I say again: go to your chambers and reflect on what you have done. When your father and I have decided on your punishment, you will be allowed visitors, and you will apologise most sincerely to your cousin, Uncle Gareth, and your Aunt Roanna. Now, get out of my sight.”
“Yes, your Majesty.” Jon bows in deference, but his head is held high as he strides past her. She refuses to turn around to watch, even as two groomsmen trail after him, but her shoulders slump as soon as she hears Jon’s footfalls become fast, hurried stomps that are carrying him away further.
“He must learn,” an unexpected voice soothes, and Lianne stares down at Roger. His eyes are troubled, yet he possesses a wisdom and understanding that marvels and comforts her. “It has hurt his pride. And he'll think of it as a betrayal. But it doesn’t mean he loves you any less.”
“I know,” she whispers, and curves an arm around his young shoulders. “I wish him to grow up as noble as you.”
He leans into her touch, and sighs. “I think he will be more like his mother.”
Title: The Heroes That Hurt Us
Rating: G
Prompt: #3 Is it a groove or is it a rut?
Summary: They say the ones we love most, hurt us the greatest.
“Your Majesty!”
The groomsman looks panicked and his dark expression curls a terror deep in her chest for what it can possibly entail. “Please, my lady, it’s the Prince, he—”
But Lianne is already running, her skirts trailing behind her in disarray as her ladies call after her in surprise. She peers hurriedly into the rooms she passes, until finally, she hears the loud cries coming from the royal nursery. Nothing can stop her as she flies past the courtiers crowding in the hall, and all she sees is the endless path that she seems to be on, and how heavy her feet feel.
Are the children safe? Is Jon hurt? Her boy was only a few summers old…
She stops abruptly in the entrance of the room, her pulse thundering. Gary—little Gareth—is huddled on the floor, cradling his arm as Jon stands above him in shock. Her nephew is crying, trying to keep his sobs quiet, but the odd angle of his elbow suggests that the pain of his small arm is serious. She flicks a quick glance over Jon, and is relieved to find him unharmed. She’s about to hurry to Gary when Jon straightens.
“You deserve it,” he announces, triumph radiating from every unbroken bone in his body. Gary glares up at the younger boy, but chokes as the momentum distresses his arm. Something dark crosses Jon’s face and he tightens his grip on the small, practice sword in his hand. “This is mine,” he explains, “and you should ask first before using the Prince’s sword. My father had this made for me—not you. Who are you, Gary? You’re no one compared to me.”
“Jonathan of Conte,” Lianne says, the coldness in her voice startling all into silence. She motions for her ladies to attend to Gary, and when everyone bows low, Jonathan refuses to. His mouth is open in surprise, not understanding why he is being subject to such treatment from his own mother. Lianne’s hands clench, and a wave of failure kicks her in the stomach.
“You will go to your chambers now.” Her orders echo off the walls, loud and foreign. And she prays to the Goddess that Jonathan will fear it. “You have shown yourself to be unkind and selfish, and for that you must be punished.”
“But why? It is my sw—”
“Do you dare disobey your Queen?” The ache intensifies, turns into anger at the way Jonathan’s chin lifts stubbornly. “You say you are a prince, but you have not been that today. You have hurt your own kin—revelled in his pain because you cannot share. I will not have that in my palace. So I say again: go to your chambers and reflect on what you have done. When your father and I have decided on your punishment, you will be allowed visitors, and you will apologise most sincerely to your cousin, Uncle Gareth, and your Aunt Roanna. Now, get out of my sight.”
“Yes, your Majesty.” Jon bows in deference, but his head is held high as he strides past her. She refuses to turn around to watch, even as two groomsmen trail after him, but her shoulders slump as soon as she hears Jon’s footfalls become fast, hurried stomps that are carrying him away further.
“He must learn,” an unexpected voice soothes, and Lianne stares down at Roger. His eyes are troubled, yet he possesses a wisdom and understanding that marvels and comforts her. “It has hurt his pride. And he'll think of it as a betrayal. But it doesn’t mean he loves you any less.”
“I know,” she whispers, and curves an arm around his young shoulders. “I wish him to grow up as noble as you.”
He leans into her touch, and sighs. “I think he will be more like his mother.”