Post by devilinthedetails on Mar 22, 2018 7:20:40 GMT 10
Title: Green-Eyed Monster
Rating: PG-13 for references to death and treason though nothing is graphic.
Prompt: Aftermath
Summary: Thayet and Jon in the aftermath of the coronation battle.
Green-Eyed Monster
“You’re going to spare Delia of Eldorne a traitor’s death.” After years of hopeless hatred and fear of her father’s temper and vengefulness, Thayet couldn’t believe that she had stooped so low as arguing against a king’s mercy. The coronation battle—the rubble of which she was standing in with Jon, both of them streaming with sweat as they separated what was salvageable from what could never be restored—had brought the world she had been constructing for herself since she fled to Tortall crashing around her ears. Her father’s blood burned in her veins, screaming to shed Delia of Eldorne’s, whenever she remembered the broken bodies of the innocent and the heroes. She didn’t see red so much as she did a green-eyed monster who had survived when better people had died for the green-eyed monster’s ambition and schemes.
“Many would prefer an appointment with an axman to a life in prison.” Jon mopped at his brow with the cuff of his sleeve, smearing dirt through the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Lady Delia might be one such. I assure you she adores her creature comforts, and they will be in short supply, since she is not locked in a tower of luxury.”
“She won’t have her fancy gowns and beautiful makeup to hide her ugliness.” Thayet’s lips thinned to arrows like the ones that had slain that most mythical beast, the Shang Dragon. “A true sacrifice like the one Liam made for you.”
“You think I’m dishonoring Liam’s memory?” Jon strained against a slab of marble so fiercely that Thayet worried an artery in his throat might burst.
“He’s dead.” Thayet felt tears stabbing her eyes like swords and blamed them on the dust swirling thick as ghosts in the air, choking them with grief. “So many innocents and heroes are dust, and you’re going to let her live.”
“Her death can’t resurrect the dead, Thayet.” Jon’s sigh was exhausted, whether from her, the slab, or the disaster that had marred his coronation, Thayet refused to speculate. “If it could, I’d trade her life for Liam or anyone who didn’t meet a traitor’s end here in a heartbeat. I can’t bring Liam or anybody else who died for me back to life with more death, but I can honor them by how I live.”
“They say you loved Delia of Eldorne once.” Thayet studied Jon, measuring a man and a monarch who was still a mystery to her in too many ways. “Am I to assume that love has died, Jon?”
“That love never existed.” There was a glint of humor—sunshine piercing through gray clouds on an overcast morning—in Jon’s gaze that was as out of place amidst the aftermath of sorrow and destruction as a bull at a ball. “Pretending it did was very useful for stirring up Alanna’s green-eyed monster and apparently yours.”
“If you imagine”—Thayet trembled with the effort of resisting the overwhelming desire to hurl a chunk of marble at the smug king of the country where she had taken refuge—“standing in these ruins that this is about my jealously for you, you flatter yourself to an absurd extent, Jonathan of Conte, and insult me.”
“Standing in these ruins, you shouldn’t need me to explain why I don’t want to start my seemingly inauspicious reign with more carnage.” Jon straightened to survey the wreckage around them. “We have to focus on rebuilding, not upon revenge, no matter how tempting revenge might be.”
“We?” Thayet arched an eyebrow. “Would that be you and I, or would that be the royal we?”
“We would be Tortall.” Jon’s stare was half challenge and half invitation. “You can choose whether or not to rebuild with us, Thayet jian Wilimia.”
“I’m here, rebuilding alongside you, aren’t I?” That question in the rubble, Thayet thought, should have been all the answer and all the promise he should ever need that she would always support Tortall even in the aftermath of a catastrophe.
Rating: PG-13 for references to death and treason though nothing is graphic.
Prompt: Aftermath
Summary: Thayet and Jon in the aftermath of the coronation battle.
Green-Eyed Monster
“You’re going to spare Delia of Eldorne a traitor’s death.” After years of hopeless hatred and fear of her father’s temper and vengefulness, Thayet couldn’t believe that she had stooped so low as arguing against a king’s mercy. The coronation battle—the rubble of which she was standing in with Jon, both of them streaming with sweat as they separated what was salvageable from what could never be restored—had brought the world she had been constructing for herself since she fled to Tortall crashing around her ears. Her father’s blood burned in her veins, screaming to shed Delia of Eldorne’s, whenever she remembered the broken bodies of the innocent and the heroes. She didn’t see red so much as she did a green-eyed monster who had survived when better people had died for the green-eyed monster’s ambition and schemes.
“Many would prefer an appointment with an axman to a life in prison.” Jon mopped at his brow with the cuff of his sleeve, smearing dirt through the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Lady Delia might be one such. I assure you she adores her creature comforts, and they will be in short supply, since she is not locked in a tower of luxury.”
“She won’t have her fancy gowns and beautiful makeup to hide her ugliness.” Thayet’s lips thinned to arrows like the ones that had slain that most mythical beast, the Shang Dragon. “A true sacrifice like the one Liam made for you.”
“You think I’m dishonoring Liam’s memory?” Jon strained against a slab of marble so fiercely that Thayet worried an artery in his throat might burst.
“He’s dead.” Thayet felt tears stabbing her eyes like swords and blamed them on the dust swirling thick as ghosts in the air, choking them with grief. “So many innocents and heroes are dust, and you’re going to let her live.”
“Her death can’t resurrect the dead, Thayet.” Jon’s sigh was exhausted, whether from her, the slab, or the disaster that had marred his coronation, Thayet refused to speculate. “If it could, I’d trade her life for Liam or anyone who didn’t meet a traitor’s end here in a heartbeat. I can’t bring Liam or anybody else who died for me back to life with more death, but I can honor them by how I live.”
“They say you loved Delia of Eldorne once.” Thayet studied Jon, measuring a man and a monarch who was still a mystery to her in too many ways. “Am I to assume that love has died, Jon?”
“That love never existed.” There was a glint of humor—sunshine piercing through gray clouds on an overcast morning—in Jon’s gaze that was as out of place amidst the aftermath of sorrow and destruction as a bull at a ball. “Pretending it did was very useful for stirring up Alanna’s green-eyed monster and apparently yours.”
“If you imagine”—Thayet trembled with the effort of resisting the overwhelming desire to hurl a chunk of marble at the smug king of the country where she had taken refuge—“standing in these ruins that this is about my jealously for you, you flatter yourself to an absurd extent, Jonathan of Conte, and insult me.”
“Standing in these ruins, you shouldn’t need me to explain why I don’t want to start my seemingly inauspicious reign with more carnage.” Jon straightened to survey the wreckage around them. “We have to focus on rebuilding, not upon revenge, no matter how tempting revenge might be.”
“We?” Thayet arched an eyebrow. “Would that be you and I, or would that be the royal we?”
“We would be Tortall.” Jon’s stare was half challenge and half invitation. “You can choose whether or not to rebuild with us, Thayet jian Wilimia.”
“I’m here, rebuilding alongside you, aren’t I?” That question in the rubble, Thayet thought, should have been all the answer and all the promise he should ever need that she would always support Tortall even in the aftermath of a catastrophe.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!