Post by fantail on Jun 23, 2010 18:44:15 GMT 10
Title: The Scanran Prince
Rating: G
Length: 359
Summary: A Scanran Prince will choose his own destiny . . .
Author’s Notes: The name I'm using for the Prince is Russian: Pronounced rosteesLAHV. Set before the PD series.
Prince Rostislav had always hated the people in his parents court. They always smiled at him and spoke nicely about him, but he knew they thought differently. He could hide in the shadows and sneak around the palace like a cat, and walk right up behind someone and have them not know he was there until he made a noise or said something.
"Stop sneaking around," his mother, Queen Vladlena would say.
"Leave the boy be," the warlord, Yaroslav, would scold his wife. "These are the kind of skills that will keep him alive in battle and on the throne."
But becoming the Warlord of Scanra was not in the Prince's dreams of a future, and often he would sneak into the local town and carouse with the young woman there.
Aniki Forfrysning was the daughter of one of his father’s Generals, a Clan Chief. She was tall, blonde and blue eyed, and . . . exciting for the Prince. Together they would sneak into the local villiage and carouse under alias’. It was during one such night they met a young fortune teller, Koramin Ingensra. She was flipping fortune cards for coin. Her brown eyes with long lashes aroused Rostislav, and he made more frequent visits to see her.
“I’m moving on,” she said one night. Aniki was cleaning her sword, and Rostislav was drinking.
“Moving on to where?” Aniki asked. “And why?”
“Tortall. I’ve heard much about they’re Rogue down there. Scanra is dying. And I’m not going to die with it!” she announced.
Rostislav thought on her words, “Scanra is dying. And I am not going to die with it!” . . . and truly, isn’t that what this life was doing to him? No King lasted long on The Bloody Throne . . . And he certainly didn’t expect his father to be around much longer.
He had heard the whispers. He knew what was coming, even if his father and mother didn’t. ‘And I’m not going to die with them,’ he vowed.
And as he crossed the border to his new life, he turned to his friends and said, with a grin "Call me Rosto."
Rating: G
Length: 359
Summary: A Scanran Prince will choose his own destiny . . .
Author’s Notes: The name I'm using for the Prince is Russian: Pronounced rosteesLAHV. Set before the PD series.
Prince Rostislav had always hated the people in his parents court. They always smiled at him and spoke nicely about him, but he knew they thought differently. He could hide in the shadows and sneak around the palace like a cat, and walk right up behind someone and have them not know he was there until he made a noise or said something.
"Stop sneaking around," his mother, Queen Vladlena would say.
"Leave the boy be," the warlord, Yaroslav, would scold his wife. "These are the kind of skills that will keep him alive in battle and on the throne."
But becoming the Warlord of Scanra was not in the Prince's dreams of a future, and often he would sneak into the local town and carouse with the young woman there.
Aniki Forfrysning was the daughter of one of his father’s Generals, a Clan Chief. She was tall, blonde and blue eyed, and . . . exciting for the Prince. Together they would sneak into the local villiage and carouse under alias’. It was during one such night they met a young fortune teller, Koramin Ingensra. She was flipping fortune cards for coin. Her brown eyes with long lashes aroused Rostislav, and he made more frequent visits to see her.
“I’m moving on,” she said one night. Aniki was cleaning her sword, and Rostislav was drinking.
“Moving on to where?” Aniki asked. “And why?”
“Tortall. I’ve heard much about they’re Rogue down there. Scanra is dying. And I’m not going to die with it!” she announced.
Rostislav thought on her words, “Scanra is dying. And I am not going to die with it!” . . . and truly, isn’t that what this life was doing to him? No King lasted long on The Bloody Throne . . . And he certainly didn’t expect his father to be around much longer.
He had heard the whispers. He knew what was coming, even if his father and mother didn’t. ‘And I’m not going to die with them,’ he vowed.
And as he crossed the border to his new life, he turned to his friends and said, with a grin "Call me Rosto."