Post by Shhasow on Mar 30, 2011 7:37:35 GMT 10
Title: Shadows, (3)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 621
Pairing: Jon/Kel
Round/Fight: 1/F
Summary: A short tale of sadness and old age, and a thankless task that one must do. Warning for mental deterioration.
At first, no one could figure out why King Jonathan was having memory lapses. A man with his substantial, trained Gift should have been in the peak of mental health for two more decades. Healers from throughout the Eastern Lands examined Jon, ran tests on him, studied his family history, but there were no signs of madness.
Eventually, the still-youthful Numair broke the news to the irritated king and his wife.
“No one’s quite certain what’s happening,” the mage warned, but he was cut off before he could continue.
“Even after all these tests,” grumbled Jon, “All these magical experiments, blood taken, all these and you still have no idea.”
Kel laid a hand on his shoulder. “They’re doing their best, Jon.”
“And apparently their best isn’t good enough.” He shrugged off her hand and glared at Numair. “Fine. Give me your latest theory. I’m not mad, so what am I?”
Numair ran a long-fingered hand through his black hair, shot heavily with silver. “It’s your mind, Jon,” he sighed. “I think it was strained by unusual magics. The Dominion Jewel.” He continued with more depth at Jon’s skeptical look and Kel’s horrified one. “I believe that the intense mental connection necessary to meld your mind with the Jewel and thus the very land of Tortall, stressed your mind, accelerated the aging process.”
“Impossible,“ Jon said calmly with a slight eye-roll. “I don’t believe you at all. And you, Kel,” he turned to face his wife, “You need to stop. My mother is long dead and I don’t want another. I am completely healthy in every way, as evidenced by the fact that Numair has to come up with some crackpot theory to explain my ‘illness.’” Jon’s voice grew louder. “I am not mentally incompetent. I thoroughly resent the implication, and there will be no more healers. Understand?”
Kel wore her Yamani mask, but it could not hide the paleness of her face. “Of course, Jon.”
“Yes, sire.” Numair bowed, glanced meaningfully at Kel, and swiftly left the room, his dignity limping behind.
After that disastrous meeting, Jon felt betrayed by his wife and his friends.
Kel, Neal, and the aging Raoul and Gary, barely convinced Jon to abdicate in favor of Roald. He stringently resisted, complained bitterly, and finally acquiesced only when they agreed that he was doing so only for the younger generation, not because of his failing mental capabilities.
The next few years were difficult, especially for Kel. The burden of caring for Jon had to go to someone, and even though he continuously groused and grumbled, she refused to let anyone else take over her duties. Even as Jon grew increasingly paranoid, secure in the knowledge that he was fine and it was everyone else who was allied against him, Kel said nothing to her friends.
They watched her worriedly, but respected her decision, though Neal once remarked that if they were waiting for Kel to admit that it was too much, they’d be waiting until Roger the Usurper himself came back from the dead a second time to confess his evil-ness.
Kel never would, of course. Jon was her husband, therefore it was on her honor as a wife and mother to care for him, no matter how ranted. Eventually, as he began to have trouble speaking - he’d forget simple words and names that he’d always known - Jon grew increasingly uncommunicative. Kel hated herself when she thought of such a progression as an improvement.
She didn’t think Jon ever truly realized what was happening to him, and by the time it was obvious, he was too far gone to understand.
And now, Kel had no more tears left to shed. They were all gone, used up in the long years of thankless care.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 621
Pairing: Jon/Kel
Round/Fight: 1/F
Summary: A short tale of sadness and old age, and a thankless task that one must do. Warning for mental deterioration.
At first, no one could figure out why King Jonathan was having memory lapses. A man with his substantial, trained Gift should have been in the peak of mental health for two more decades. Healers from throughout the Eastern Lands examined Jon, ran tests on him, studied his family history, but there were no signs of madness.
Eventually, the still-youthful Numair broke the news to the irritated king and his wife.
“No one’s quite certain what’s happening,” the mage warned, but he was cut off before he could continue.
“Even after all these tests,” grumbled Jon, “All these magical experiments, blood taken, all these and you still have no idea.”
Kel laid a hand on his shoulder. “They’re doing their best, Jon.”
“And apparently their best isn’t good enough.” He shrugged off her hand and glared at Numair. “Fine. Give me your latest theory. I’m not mad, so what am I?”
Numair ran a long-fingered hand through his black hair, shot heavily with silver. “It’s your mind, Jon,” he sighed. “I think it was strained by unusual magics. The Dominion Jewel.” He continued with more depth at Jon’s skeptical look and Kel’s horrified one. “I believe that the intense mental connection necessary to meld your mind with the Jewel and thus the very land of Tortall, stressed your mind, accelerated the aging process.”
“Impossible,“ Jon said calmly with a slight eye-roll. “I don’t believe you at all. And you, Kel,” he turned to face his wife, “You need to stop. My mother is long dead and I don’t want another. I am completely healthy in every way, as evidenced by the fact that Numair has to come up with some crackpot theory to explain my ‘illness.’” Jon’s voice grew louder. “I am not mentally incompetent. I thoroughly resent the implication, and there will be no more healers. Understand?”
Kel wore her Yamani mask, but it could not hide the paleness of her face. “Of course, Jon.”
“Yes, sire.” Numair bowed, glanced meaningfully at Kel, and swiftly left the room, his dignity limping behind.
After that disastrous meeting, Jon felt betrayed by his wife and his friends.
Kel, Neal, and the aging Raoul and Gary, barely convinced Jon to abdicate in favor of Roald. He stringently resisted, complained bitterly, and finally acquiesced only when they agreed that he was doing so only for the younger generation, not because of his failing mental capabilities.
The next few years were difficult, especially for Kel. The burden of caring for Jon had to go to someone, and even though he continuously groused and grumbled, she refused to let anyone else take over her duties. Even as Jon grew increasingly paranoid, secure in the knowledge that he was fine and it was everyone else who was allied against him, Kel said nothing to her friends.
They watched her worriedly, but respected her decision, though Neal once remarked that if they were waiting for Kel to admit that it was too much, they’d be waiting until Roger the Usurper himself came back from the dead a second time to confess his evil-ness.
Kel never would, of course. Jon was her husband, therefore it was on her honor as a wife and mother to care for him, no matter how ranted. Eventually, as he began to have trouble speaking - he’d forget simple words and names that he’d always known - Jon grew increasingly uncommunicative. Kel hated herself when she thought of such a progression as an improvement.
She didn’t think Jon ever truly realized what was happening to him, and by the time it was obvious, he was too far gone to understand.
And now, Kel had no more tears left to shed. They were all gone, used up in the long years of thankless care.
QC by: journeycat