Post by devilinthedetails on Jul 10, 2018 7:14:58 GMT 10
Title: War is Over
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: At Journey's End
Summary: After his part in the Scanran War is over, Roald returns to Corus, where his family and Shinko welcome him home.
War is Over
Peace was in the air fragrant as an olive branch. Though the war with Scanra wasn’t officially over, the killing devices were destroyed, the siege around the City of the Gods was broken, and Roald’s part in the fighting was done, Yama be thanked. He would be returning to Shinko this morning after a separation that had been too long and lonely for her.
She longed to see him now—to feast her eyes on his quiet strength and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was still whole and hers to cherish. He wouldn’t even have to touch her to make her body sing and her soul dance. His smile and the soft sound of his voice would be enough to do that.
It was immodest how much the promised presence of her betrothed stirred her, she thought as she resisted the urge to fiddle with her flowery fan in front of the sea of nobles churning around the path up to the palace, waiting to greet the Crown Prince when he rode back from war. There would be wild cheers for him, Shinko knew, as much because of what his return represented—the hope of the end of the war and the restoration of peace—as because of who he was.
Since she couldn’t fidget with her fan without undermining her dignity before the courtiers and Shinko had been raised since birth to assiduously avoid losing face, she instead curled her fingers around her fan’s handle in a white-knuckled grip as trumpets rang a fanfare heralding the return of the Crown Prince. The spring sunlight shone on his armor that gleamed so brightly Shinko could almost convince herself that no enemy blood had ever been shed upon it in battle as he guided his horse through the palace gates. Sir Zahir, once King Jonathan’s erstwhile squire grown into the hero in Roald’s letters who slew killing devices and defended Roald’s life with diligent fierceness, was at his side, and a squad of soldiers bristling with weaponry flanked him.
It seemed peculiar to Shinko that the pageantry of peace should begin with the panoply of warfare, but she supposed she couldn’t expect Roald to ride back from war as if he had never been there at all. Men could be haunted by war forever if they survived it. Shinko understood that; it was what had motivated her to fund hospitals in Corus to treat those maimed in the war against Scanr and what made her sew for the widows and orphans of dead soliders as much as she did for the refugees in their cold northern camps.
Her feeling of disorientation faded when Roald dismounted. He had reached the marble staircase up to the palace where his parents, Shinko, and his two youngest sisters (Kalasin was in King’s Reach preparing for her voyage to Carthak to marry Emperor Kaddar while Jasson and Liam were still stationed along the coast as they had been throughout the war, far enough away from the front that they tasted battle but were unlikely to be killed in it) waited.
“Your Majesties.” Roald bowed to his parents and kissed his mother’s hand.
“Son.” King Jonathan’s nod was formal but there was a warm glow in his sky blue eyes. “We’re blessed to have you back.”
“I’m blessed to be back.” Polite but perfunctory, Roald inclined his head.
“We rejoice to see you again.” Queen Thayet brushed her lips across her son’s cheek in a quick kiss.
“As I do you.” Roald’s gaze drifted from his mother to Shinko as he gave his dutiful reply, and, plainly noticing this, Queen Thayet’s hazel eyes twinkled with amusement as she nudged Roald toward Shinko.
Shinko had readied herself for a ceremonial greeting. Her knees were poised to curtsy to the proper degree when he acknowledged her after his parents but Roald seemed suddenly compelled to throw etiquette to the wind blowing off the Olorun. Instead of addressing her as protocol proscribed, he swept her into his arms and kissed her—not on her hand or even on her cheek—but on her mouth.
They had stolen kisses (Shinko still thought of them as stolen though she and Roald were betrothed and should have been married if not for the war) when their chaperones tactfully pretended to be occupied with other matters but had never shared one so passionate in public.
Flames flared in Shinko’s face, and there was an odd echo in her ears that took her a moment to recognize. At first, she imagined it was the sound of the blood pounding in her eardrums after it raced from her shocked heart, but an instant later, she had the disconcerting epiphany that the lords and ladies assembled to welcome their prince had applauded his kiss. In the Yamani Islands, such a display of passion would have been met with shameful silence and shuffling feet as abashed eyes were averted, but in Tortall it appeared to be embraced enthusiastically as a sign of the Crown Prince’s virility.
“I’ve been thinking of doing that since we parted.” Roald pulled away from her lips but seized her fingers as if he couldn’t bear not to touch her after their long separation. “I missed you every minute since I left, my love.”
Some of Shinko was still too rattled by his public kiss to untangle how she felt about such an open gesture of affection, but her feelings for Roald were beyond question, so she could respond smoothly and sincerely, “You were never far from my thoughts, darling.”
“Roald!” Impatient and indignant, Princess Vania leaned past her sister to yank reproachfully on Roald’s tunic sleeve. “Are you going to acknowledge that Lianne and I exist or should we continue to stand here like statues while you make moon eyes at Shinko until the sun sets?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to be more patient, Vania,” pointed out Princess Lianne with an unusually acerbic edge to her typically mild, pleasant tone. “Roald loves Shinko and hasn’t seen her in months.”
“Roald hasn’t seen us for months either.” Vania’s chin jutted petulantly. “Yet he has quite forgotten to fawn over us.”
“You’re right, and I’m in the wrong. I’ve been most remiss in my manners, Vania.” Roald grinned at his sisters and opened his arms in an invitation for them to hug him. “Will you and Lianne pardon me and favor me with your hugs?”
Vania’s only answer was to fling herself onto Roald. Lianne followed a heartbeat later, and the three siblings remained entwined as King Jonathan addressed Sir Zahir, who had been content to stand straight and proud as an oak in the background after bowing to his monarchs.
“How long will we enjoy the pleasure of your company, Sir Zahir?” King Jonathan asked his former squire.
“I’ve reports from General Vanget to deliver to Your Majesty personally and then I’m under strict orders not to dally in my return to the border, so I regret that my visit must be brief, sire.” Despite his words, Sir Zahir, in Shinko’s opinion, sounded more eager than regretful about escaping the court.
“Duty demands sacrifices of us all, but we must make the most of what time remains to us.” King Jonathan clapped Sir Zahir on the shoulder, and Shinko had the distinct impression that he had detected Sir Zahir’s readiness to flee the court as soon as possible. “I hope you will join Her Majesty and me for dinner tonight.”
The king and queen, Shinko had learned almost immediately upon her arrival in Tortall, preferred to dine in private with a small selection of guests in their quarters rather than in state on a platform at the front of the great hall.
“I’d be honored, Your Majesty.” Sir Zahir bowed his head, accepting the invitation few would refuse.
“Magnificent.” Vania bubbled with excitement. “Lianne and I can tell you all about our adventures with the Queen’s Riders.”
“I await accounts of your exploits with bated breath, Your Highness.” There was a tartness to Sir Zahir’s demeanor that suggested to Shinko that he hadn’t budged in his adamant belief that women didn’t belong on the battlefield.
“Perhaps Sir Zahir will be so good as to regale us with tales of how he trained refugee girls in combat when we were posted at Northwatch.” Roald spoke seriously but with a hint of teasing that made Shinko suspect that Sir Zahir had gained his friendship during the war. Roald and Sir Zahir, Shinko remembered, had never been close though they were the same age before the war. That could be marked down as another change the war had wrought, and one of the handful that was’t for the worse.
“It seems Your Highness has already been kind enough to relate the story for me,” Sir Zahir, never one to enter a clash of wits unarmed, riposted.
“Not in sufficient detail to do it justice, Sir Zahir.” Roald’s smile was soft yet stubborn. “I’m certain my family would appreciate hearing it from your lips firsthand.”
“Very well.” Sir Zahir emitted a ragged sigh that Shinko could only describe as long-suffering. “I see I’m to be the evening’s entertainment instead of jesters or jugglers.”
“Not at all.” Queen Thayet flashed teeth white as pearls at Sir Zahir as they began to climb the marble staircase to the palace. “We would just be most interested in your shifting philosophy on women in combat.”
“War had come for those girls whether they wished it to or not.” Sir Zahir’s shoulders rose and fell in a short shrug. “It seemed only chivalrous to train the girls who wanted to learn how to defend themselves should war come for them again, Your Majesty.”
“A wise perspective.” That was King Jonathan, and Shinko could see in the spark that lit Sir Zahir’s dark eyes what his praise meant to his former squire. “You never fail to impress me.”
Later when she strolled through the fragrant but fading cherry blossom tree path in the gardens, her arms twisted through Roald’s while Haname and Yuki trailed at a discreet distance, Shinko remarked, “War has changed Sir Zahir.”
“Yes.” Roald nodded. “For the better, I think. Not every man can claim the same.”
“You fear war has changed you and not for the better then?” Attuned to every nuance of her future husband’s emotions, Shinko squeezed his wrist in a silent pledge to always stand unflinching beside him.
“I’m sharper with people than I used to be. Sometimes I believe that’s a good thing, and other times it disturbs me.” Roald’s forehead creased. “Maybe it just unsettles me to grow more like my father every day.”
“If you’re growing into your father, you shouldn’t worry about the man or leader you’re becoming.” Shinko slid from squeezing his wrist to tapping it with her fan, reminding him that his father was a good man and king despite any differences Roald might have with him.
“Enough of my brooding. I did too much of that when I was at war.” Roald cast her a considering glance. “I didn’t upset or embarrass you when I kissed you earlier, did I?”
“Why would you think you had?” Shinko arched an eyebrow to give herself time to contemplate her feelings about Roald’s public, passionate kiss.
“I know you hate to lose face, and to the Yamani, public displays of emotion risk losing face.” Roald bit his lip. “I’d never intend to disrespect or dishonor you, Shinko. If you don’t want me to, I’ll never kiss you in public again, I swear.”
“We aren’t in the Yamani Islands, your people were pleased when you kissed me, and I enjoyed it when you did.” Shinko tilted her face to place a gentle kiss on his cheek to emphasize her next statement. “I always enjoy it when you kiss me, Roald.”
“Excellent because I always enjoy kissing you.” Roald planted a kiss on her cheek and then trickled a stream of them along her hair. “Now I would love to hear everything you did since we parted.”
“Everything I did since we parted?” Shinko waved her fan to show the unfeasibility of granting his request. “It would take a long time to do that.”
“It’s a long garden, my dear.” Roald gestured at the path of cherry blossoms that stretched before them like a canvas for painting, and Shinko, warm from the reunion with her betrothed, began to tell him everything that he had missed since he left for war.
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: At Journey's End
Summary: After his part in the Scanran War is over, Roald returns to Corus, where his family and Shinko welcome him home.
War is Over
Peace was in the air fragrant as an olive branch. Though the war with Scanra wasn’t officially over, the killing devices were destroyed, the siege around the City of the Gods was broken, and Roald’s part in the fighting was done, Yama be thanked. He would be returning to Shinko this morning after a separation that had been too long and lonely for her.
She longed to see him now—to feast her eyes on his quiet strength and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was still whole and hers to cherish. He wouldn’t even have to touch her to make her body sing and her soul dance. His smile and the soft sound of his voice would be enough to do that.
It was immodest how much the promised presence of her betrothed stirred her, she thought as she resisted the urge to fiddle with her flowery fan in front of the sea of nobles churning around the path up to the palace, waiting to greet the Crown Prince when he rode back from war. There would be wild cheers for him, Shinko knew, as much because of what his return represented—the hope of the end of the war and the restoration of peace—as because of who he was.
Since she couldn’t fidget with her fan without undermining her dignity before the courtiers and Shinko had been raised since birth to assiduously avoid losing face, she instead curled her fingers around her fan’s handle in a white-knuckled grip as trumpets rang a fanfare heralding the return of the Crown Prince. The spring sunlight shone on his armor that gleamed so brightly Shinko could almost convince herself that no enemy blood had ever been shed upon it in battle as he guided his horse through the palace gates. Sir Zahir, once King Jonathan’s erstwhile squire grown into the hero in Roald’s letters who slew killing devices and defended Roald’s life with diligent fierceness, was at his side, and a squad of soldiers bristling with weaponry flanked him.
It seemed peculiar to Shinko that the pageantry of peace should begin with the panoply of warfare, but she supposed she couldn’t expect Roald to ride back from war as if he had never been there at all. Men could be haunted by war forever if they survived it. Shinko understood that; it was what had motivated her to fund hospitals in Corus to treat those maimed in the war against Scanr and what made her sew for the widows and orphans of dead soliders as much as she did for the refugees in their cold northern camps.
Her feeling of disorientation faded when Roald dismounted. He had reached the marble staircase up to the palace where his parents, Shinko, and his two youngest sisters (Kalasin was in King’s Reach preparing for her voyage to Carthak to marry Emperor Kaddar while Jasson and Liam were still stationed along the coast as they had been throughout the war, far enough away from the front that they tasted battle but were unlikely to be killed in it) waited.
“Your Majesties.” Roald bowed to his parents and kissed his mother’s hand.
“Son.” King Jonathan’s nod was formal but there was a warm glow in his sky blue eyes. “We’re blessed to have you back.”
“I’m blessed to be back.” Polite but perfunctory, Roald inclined his head.
“We rejoice to see you again.” Queen Thayet brushed her lips across her son’s cheek in a quick kiss.
“As I do you.” Roald’s gaze drifted from his mother to Shinko as he gave his dutiful reply, and, plainly noticing this, Queen Thayet’s hazel eyes twinkled with amusement as she nudged Roald toward Shinko.
Shinko had readied herself for a ceremonial greeting. Her knees were poised to curtsy to the proper degree when he acknowledged her after his parents but Roald seemed suddenly compelled to throw etiquette to the wind blowing off the Olorun. Instead of addressing her as protocol proscribed, he swept her into his arms and kissed her—not on her hand or even on her cheek—but on her mouth.
They had stolen kisses (Shinko still thought of them as stolen though she and Roald were betrothed and should have been married if not for the war) when their chaperones tactfully pretended to be occupied with other matters but had never shared one so passionate in public.
Flames flared in Shinko’s face, and there was an odd echo in her ears that took her a moment to recognize. At first, she imagined it was the sound of the blood pounding in her eardrums after it raced from her shocked heart, but an instant later, she had the disconcerting epiphany that the lords and ladies assembled to welcome their prince had applauded his kiss. In the Yamani Islands, such a display of passion would have been met with shameful silence and shuffling feet as abashed eyes were averted, but in Tortall it appeared to be embraced enthusiastically as a sign of the Crown Prince’s virility.
“I’ve been thinking of doing that since we parted.” Roald pulled away from her lips but seized her fingers as if he couldn’t bear not to touch her after their long separation. “I missed you every minute since I left, my love.”
Some of Shinko was still too rattled by his public kiss to untangle how she felt about such an open gesture of affection, but her feelings for Roald were beyond question, so she could respond smoothly and sincerely, “You were never far from my thoughts, darling.”
“Roald!” Impatient and indignant, Princess Vania leaned past her sister to yank reproachfully on Roald’s tunic sleeve. “Are you going to acknowledge that Lianne and I exist or should we continue to stand here like statues while you make moon eyes at Shinko until the sun sets?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to be more patient, Vania,” pointed out Princess Lianne with an unusually acerbic edge to her typically mild, pleasant tone. “Roald loves Shinko and hasn’t seen her in months.”
“Roald hasn’t seen us for months either.” Vania’s chin jutted petulantly. “Yet he has quite forgotten to fawn over us.”
“You’re right, and I’m in the wrong. I’ve been most remiss in my manners, Vania.” Roald grinned at his sisters and opened his arms in an invitation for them to hug him. “Will you and Lianne pardon me and favor me with your hugs?”
Vania’s only answer was to fling herself onto Roald. Lianne followed a heartbeat later, and the three siblings remained entwined as King Jonathan addressed Sir Zahir, who had been content to stand straight and proud as an oak in the background after bowing to his monarchs.
“How long will we enjoy the pleasure of your company, Sir Zahir?” King Jonathan asked his former squire.
“I’ve reports from General Vanget to deliver to Your Majesty personally and then I’m under strict orders not to dally in my return to the border, so I regret that my visit must be brief, sire.” Despite his words, Sir Zahir, in Shinko’s opinion, sounded more eager than regretful about escaping the court.
“Duty demands sacrifices of us all, but we must make the most of what time remains to us.” King Jonathan clapped Sir Zahir on the shoulder, and Shinko had the distinct impression that he had detected Sir Zahir’s readiness to flee the court as soon as possible. “I hope you will join Her Majesty and me for dinner tonight.”
The king and queen, Shinko had learned almost immediately upon her arrival in Tortall, preferred to dine in private with a small selection of guests in their quarters rather than in state on a platform at the front of the great hall.
“I’d be honored, Your Majesty.” Sir Zahir bowed his head, accepting the invitation few would refuse.
“Magnificent.” Vania bubbled with excitement. “Lianne and I can tell you all about our adventures with the Queen’s Riders.”
“I await accounts of your exploits with bated breath, Your Highness.” There was a tartness to Sir Zahir’s demeanor that suggested to Shinko that he hadn’t budged in his adamant belief that women didn’t belong on the battlefield.
“Perhaps Sir Zahir will be so good as to regale us with tales of how he trained refugee girls in combat when we were posted at Northwatch.” Roald spoke seriously but with a hint of teasing that made Shinko suspect that Sir Zahir had gained his friendship during the war. Roald and Sir Zahir, Shinko remembered, had never been close though they were the same age before the war. That could be marked down as another change the war had wrought, and one of the handful that was’t for the worse.
“It seems Your Highness has already been kind enough to relate the story for me,” Sir Zahir, never one to enter a clash of wits unarmed, riposted.
“Not in sufficient detail to do it justice, Sir Zahir.” Roald’s smile was soft yet stubborn. “I’m certain my family would appreciate hearing it from your lips firsthand.”
“Very well.” Sir Zahir emitted a ragged sigh that Shinko could only describe as long-suffering. “I see I’m to be the evening’s entertainment instead of jesters or jugglers.”
“Not at all.” Queen Thayet flashed teeth white as pearls at Sir Zahir as they began to climb the marble staircase to the palace. “We would just be most interested in your shifting philosophy on women in combat.”
“War had come for those girls whether they wished it to or not.” Sir Zahir’s shoulders rose and fell in a short shrug. “It seemed only chivalrous to train the girls who wanted to learn how to defend themselves should war come for them again, Your Majesty.”
“A wise perspective.” That was King Jonathan, and Shinko could see in the spark that lit Sir Zahir’s dark eyes what his praise meant to his former squire. “You never fail to impress me.”
Later when she strolled through the fragrant but fading cherry blossom tree path in the gardens, her arms twisted through Roald’s while Haname and Yuki trailed at a discreet distance, Shinko remarked, “War has changed Sir Zahir.”
“Yes.” Roald nodded. “For the better, I think. Not every man can claim the same.”
“You fear war has changed you and not for the better then?” Attuned to every nuance of her future husband’s emotions, Shinko squeezed his wrist in a silent pledge to always stand unflinching beside him.
“I’m sharper with people than I used to be. Sometimes I believe that’s a good thing, and other times it disturbs me.” Roald’s forehead creased. “Maybe it just unsettles me to grow more like my father every day.”
“If you’re growing into your father, you shouldn’t worry about the man or leader you’re becoming.” Shinko slid from squeezing his wrist to tapping it with her fan, reminding him that his father was a good man and king despite any differences Roald might have with him.
“Enough of my brooding. I did too much of that when I was at war.” Roald cast her a considering glance. “I didn’t upset or embarrass you when I kissed you earlier, did I?”
“Why would you think you had?” Shinko arched an eyebrow to give herself time to contemplate her feelings about Roald’s public, passionate kiss.
“I know you hate to lose face, and to the Yamani, public displays of emotion risk losing face.” Roald bit his lip. “I’d never intend to disrespect or dishonor you, Shinko. If you don’t want me to, I’ll never kiss you in public again, I swear.”
“We aren’t in the Yamani Islands, your people were pleased when you kissed me, and I enjoyed it when you did.” Shinko tilted her face to place a gentle kiss on his cheek to emphasize her next statement. “I always enjoy it when you kiss me, Roald.”
“Excellent because I always enjoy kissing you.” Roald planted a kiss on her cheek and then trickled a stream of them along her hair. “Now I would love to hear everything you did since we parted.”
“Everything I did since we parted?” Shinko waved her fan to show the unfeasibility of granting his request. “It would take a long time to do that.”
“It’s a long garden, my dear.” Roald gestured at the path of cherry blossoms that stretched before them like a canvas for painting, and Shinko, warm from the reunion with her betrothed, began to tell him everything that he had missed since he left for war.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!