Post by devilinthedetails on Jul 25, 2018 8:48:41 GMT 10
Title: Ancient Passageways
Rating: PG-13 for references to violence against women and for sexism.
Prompt: Secret Passageways
Summary: During their courtship, Roald shows Lianne secret passageways built by the Old Ones.
Ancient Passageways
“You need to be firmer with your betrothed.” King Jasson’s eyes were cold and hard as frozen water locking upon Roald while they prepared for the evening’s banquet—yet another celebration of Roald’s engagement to Lady Lianne of Naxen. It was match his father had arranged to reward her father, a powerful general and close companion of the king, though Roald thought resentfully that an outsider would never be able to guess that his father had selected Lady Lianne to be his bride based on his father’s insistence that he be more domineering with her. “You always clam up in front of her, and I assure you that the courtiers notice. They whisper and wonder how a man too weak to assert authority over his betrothed, a slip of a girl, will ever be strong enough to rule the realm. They don’t want to see gentleness. They want to see power.”
“You make it sound as if Lady Lianne defies me at every opportunity, Father.” Roald shook his head, thinking that his betrothed was too soft-spoken and kind for him to want to dominate her even if that had been his nature, which it wasn’t. Roald craved peace, and he had no desire to oppress anyone least of all the woman who would be his wife.
“It’s not about defiance, Roald,” Father snapped as he always did when challenged in any way. “It’s about authority, and your failure to assert it with even the most mild-mannered people.”
“Lady Lianne is quiet.” Roald seized the opening his father’s dismissive words had provided. “She’s like a doe who’ll startle and run if I scare her.”
“If she startles and runs, then chase after her.” Father pounded a meaty fist against his other palm, and once Roald might have winced at the sound of punching flesh but now he was too accustomed to such displays of temper from his father that he didn’t even think about flinching. “Be a man, and hunt your lady down as you would a deer.”
“I don’t want to hunt her, Father.” Roald didn’t wish for his courtship of Lady Lianne to be as violent as his father’s romance with his mother. Ever since he was a child, he had been raised with tales of how his father had marched with his troops to Jesslaw castle—then a stronghold in Barzun—and petitioned Mother’s father for her hand in marriage to unite their peoples against the Bazhir tribes who controlled the desert Father was determined to take at all costs of life and limb. Mother, who came from a line more ancient than the Conte family, had spurned Father’s proposal, declaring to the rafter of Jesslaw’s hall that she would never disgrace herself by her blood with such new blood. Father hadn’t charmed her but had laid siege to her family’s castle until its occupants were forced to surrender to save themselves from starvation. When the Jesslaw men threw down their weapons, Father had marked the end of their resistance by dragging Mother by the braid to the nearest temple to exchange their vows. Somehow from such a hateful beginning, Mother—whom Father often boasted was the bravest and most outspoken women in the world, a fact which seemed to enhance his own glory as he had conquered her as he had so much territory—had come to love Father. The story of their love never failed to horrify Roald, who resolved to treat his lady a tenderness his father had never demonstrated toward his mother. “I want to love her.”
“Women are excited by the chase as much as men are.” Father was glaring at Roald with unadulterated disgust as if contemplating how a mighty warrior such as himself had managed to sire a lily-livered weakling. “Women are flattered by being pursued as much as men are driven to show their strength.”
“Your father is right.” Mother jumped into the conversation as she emerged from her bedroom where she had been taming her wild curls into a neat knot. “Women desire strong men because they fear that a weak man won’t be able to produce healthy sons.”
Roald couldn’t understand his parents’ obsession with strength at the expense of all gentleness, but before he could express his frustrated bafflement, “Shall we head to the banquet for our grand entrance then?”
All too soon for Roald, they had reached the dining hall, where a herald had announced them with trumpet call, and were eating the first course of what promised to be a long, elegant feast with the Naxen family seated at the high table as their guests of honor. Mother and Father, of course, dominated the conversation, pelting Lady Lianne with a barrage of questions that would have been daunting to any girl fresh from the convent as Roald’s betrothed.
Under the intense questioning, Lady Lianne remained remarkably poised. Her courtesy was impeccable as she answered everything Roald’s parents hurled at her with an understated grace that awed Roald. She was quiet, Roald thought, but she was clever, considering every word before she uttered it.
“I hear that at the convent you wrote a lengthy essay on the findings at various ruins of the Old Ones throughout Tortall.” Father carved his goose as he pinned Lady Lianne with his stare, and Roald bit his lip, worried that his betrothed might not sense the trap before it sprang. His father hated book-learning in women as much as he did in men. He believed that while too much reading made a man soft as rotten fruit, too much book-learning would unbalance the female mind, toppling the lady into hysteria.
“There are ruins of the aqueducts the Old Ones used to carry water to one of their settlements along the banks of Lake Naxen.” Lady Lianne’s tone was almost wistful though whether for her fief or for a collapsed civilization Roald couldn’t be certain. “Centuries after their empire fell, their no longer functioning aqueducts still tower over the landscape. They remain nearly as impressive as they were when they were built, which is what the Old Ones would have wanted, because they erected their aqueducts to be as much a statement of their dominion as a practical feat of engineering. That’s why they bothered to build such massive infrastructure for what the ruins suggest was only a small town not far from Lake Naxen.”
Her cheeks blushing as if she feared she had rambled in her reply, Lady Lianne finished in a hastier voice than Roald had ever heard from her, “Seeing those aqueducts inspired my interest in the Old Ones and their ruins, Your Majesty.”
“Some would say that such studies are harmful to the delicate female mind that can be overwhelmed by the stress of seeking such knowledge.” Mother’s gray eyes were flinty. “They would argue that a woman’s chief duty is to be a good wife and mother with any other pursuits a distraction from those most important obligations. What would be your answer to such a claim, Lady Lianne?”
“I would politely point out that a woman must be educated or else she would be unequipped to perform her duties of advising her husband and instructing her children, Your Majesty.” Lady Lianne’s deft diplomacy filled Roald with admiration.
“I agree with you, my lady.” Mother’s flinty gaze left Lady Lianne and fixed on Father instead. “However, my husband doesn’t. His Majesty insists that our frail female minds would wilt like flowers under the pressure of being well-read.”
At that minute, the musicians began to play a minuet. Eager to abandon the impending disagreement between his parents, Roald bowed and extended Lady Lianne a hand in invitation. She curtsied low before accepting it with a slight smile.
“I apologize, my lady, for the merciless questioning my parents subjected you to this evening,” Roald murmured just loudly enough to be heard over the music as he steered her into the dance.
“You make it sound as if it were torture, Your Highness.” Lady Lianne’s warm brown eyes shone with a humor and intelligence that reduced Roald to breathlessness. “I assure you that such questioning is a blessing in disguise as it sharpens my wits, and, anyway, is only to be expected when I’m betrothed to the Crown Prince.”
There was a pallor to Lady Lianne’s cheeks that no makeup could hide despite her words, and it occurred to Roald with a force that felt like a blow to the lungs that she had eaten only what manners required not be regarded as rude.
“You didn’t eat much food tonight.” Roald’s forehead furrowed with a concern she perhaps misconstrued.
“Do my eating habits disturb Your Highness?” Lady Lianne didn’t miss a step as the musicians swept into the next song but a curtain of wariness slipped across her features.
“Only if you weren’t eating much because my parents disturbed you.” Roald hoped to convey to her that he was focused on her welfare, not reprimanding her or dictating her diet.
“ I wasn’t disturbed, Your Highness.” Lady Lianne’s guard dropped. “I merely prefer simpler fare to indulging in rich food.”
“I’m glad you weren’t disturbed.” Roald locked his eyes on hers as he twirled her beneath the bridge of his arching arm. “You’ll be my wife, my lady, and though I appreciate you’ve an elder brother and a powerful father to serve as your champions, I would still protect you from all threats even if they are in my own family.”
“My father and brother are often away at war as duty demands.” Lady Lianne’s grin was all the encouragement he would ever need to champion her to his death. “Your protection would be most welcome, Your Highness.”
Flushed and flustered by her response to his attempt at gallantry, Roald changed the topic to the Old Ones she had seemed so fascinated with at dinner. “What you said about the Old Ones earlier was interesting.”
“It was insipid.” Lady Lianne’s gaze sank to the floor swallowed by swirling gowns and capes. “I apologize, Your Highness, for boring everyone at the table with my babble.”
“You didn’t babble, my lady. Babble by definition is unintelligent, and nothing that left your lips was anything less than clever.” Roald would have lifted her chin until their eyes met if he wasn’t nervous that the gesture would be too aggressive. He wouldn’t become his father especially in his relationships to women. “If anyone was bored by your words, that person is the insipid one, not you.”
“Your Highness is gracious to say so.” Lady Lianne’s eyes, glistening in the candlelight, slid from the floor back up to Roald’s face, and Roald was grateful that she had chosen to lift her chin rather than have it forced upon her by him. “I thank you for your generosity to me.”
“If you’re captivated by the legacy the Old Ones left us, doubtlessly you’re aware that this palace is built on the ruins of the one the Old Ones constructed when they installed their governor after conquering much of what is now Tortall.” Roald paused to gather his courage before taking a gander at impressing her. “What you might not know is that in the lower levels there are secret passageways they built that we could explore together now if you’re willing.”
“I’d love to”—Lady Lianne fiddled with an opal necklace that drew Roald’s attention to her bosom, which looked soft as goose feather pillows—“but I trust we would take a chaperone with us for modesty’s sake, Your Highness.”
“Of course, my lady.” Roald folded his fingers together before they were tempted to engage in any behavior unbefitting a gentleman. “We’d bring guards as escorts, and you’re welcome to invite anybody you’d like to accompany us if that would make you more comfortable.”
“I’d be comfortable with just you and the guards, Your Highness.” Lady Lianne gave him a tiny, tentative smile as she accepted the elbow he offered to her.
They gathered guards and descended a flight of stairs to the damper, darker lower levels lit only by flickering torches along the walls coated with moss. They twisted around a corner into a narrow corridor, where Roald heaved aside stones to form a gateway into an ancient passageway dank with forgotten secrets and hidden memories.
“The Old Ones built this passageway and others like it so their slaves could move from the kitchens to their dining rooms and bedrooms without being seen or heard.” Roald snatched a torch from the wall so that he and Lady Lianne would have illumination and then bowed her into the passage. “They believed slaves should go about their business as unobtrusively as possible.”
“Yet they strove to awe even slaves with their artwork.” Lady Lianne’s footfalls echoed eerily through the arches and columns of the passageway before she halted in front of a tile mosaic with brightness and size undiminished by the centuries.
“My tutor told me that man”—Roald pointed at a man in a laurel wreath and a purple-striped toga stomping into the dirt a woman whose dress was torn from her bloodied body—“was the emperor who conquered what is now Tortall. He was supposedly a cripple but that hasn’t been preserved for posterity in this mosaic. Beneath his sandaled feet he is trampling a woman who symbolizes Tortall. It sounds impossible but my tutor explained that she is the first artistic representation of Tortall in existence. The Old Ones, he said, gave us our notion of Tortall and our image of ourselves through violent subjugation. Before they conquered us, were were disunited, savage tribes or so the records of the Old Ones, which are all that survive from that era, maintain.”
“The Old Ones gave us our architecture, our alphabet, our art, and our laws.” Lady Lianne’s eyes were riveted on the mosaic of oppression covering the passage’s wall. “We’ll never quite recapture what we lost when their civilization collapsed, will we, Your Highness?”
“No.” Roald was hushed in his agreement, subdued by the timeless art of a fallen empire. “Yet that doesn’t stop us from forever trying to fill the void they left us as their greatest legacy.”
Rating: PG-13 for references to violence against women and for sexism.
Prompt: Secret Passageways
Summary: During their courtship, Roald shows Lianne secret passageways built by the Old Ones.
Ancient Passageways
“You need to be firmer with your betrothed.” King Jasson’s eyes were cold and hard as frozen water locking upon Roald while they prepared for the evening’s banquet—yet another celebration of Roald’s engagement to Lady Lianne of Naxen. It was match his father had arranged to reward her father, a powerful general and close companion of the king, though Roald thought resentfully that an outsider would never be able to guess that his father had selected Lady Lianne to be his bride based on his father’s insistence that he be more domineering with her. “You always clam up in front of her, and I assure you that the courtiers notice. They whisper and wonder how a man too weak to assert authority over his betrothed, a slip of a girl, will ever be strong enough to rule the realm. They don’t want to see gentleness. They want to see power.”
“You make it sound as if Lady Lianne defies me at every opportunity, Father.” Roald shook his head, thinking that his betrothed was too soft-spoken and kind for him to want to dominate her even if that had been his nature, which it wasn’t. Roald craved peace, and he had no desire to oppress anyone least of all the woman who would be his wife.
“It’s not about defiance, Roald,” Father snapped as he always did when challenged in any way. “It’s about authority, and your failure to assert it with even the most mild-mannered people.”
“Lady Lianne is quiet.” Roald seized the opening his father’s dismissive words had provided. “She’s like a doe who’ll startle and run if I scare her.”
“If she startles and runs, then chase after her.” Father pounded a meaty fist against his other palm, and once Roald might have winced at the sound of punching flesh but now he was too accustomed to such displays of temper from his father that he didn’t even think about flinching. “Be a man, and hunt your lady down as you would a deer.”
“I don’t want to hunt her, Father.” Roald didn’t wish for his courtship of Lady Lianne to be as violent as his father’s romance with his mother. Ever since he was a child, he had been raised with tales of how his father had marched with his troops to Jesslaw castle—then a stronghold in Barzun—and petitioned Mother’s father for her hand in marriage to unite their peoples against the Bazhir tribes who controlled the desert Father was determined to take at all costs of life and limb. Mother, who came from a line more ancient than the Conte family, had spurned Father’s proposal, declaring to the rafter of Jesslaw’s hall that she would never disgrace herself by her blood with such new blood. Father hadn’t charmed her but had laid siege to her family’s castle until its occupants were forced to surrender to save themselves from starvation. When the Jesslaw men threw down their weapons, Father had marked the end of their resistance by dragging Mother by the braid to the nearest temple to exchange their vows. Somehow from such a hateful beginning, Mother—whom Father often boasted was the bravest and most outspoken women in the world, a fact which seemed to enhance his own glory as he had conquered her as he had so much territory—had come to love Father. The story of their love never failed to horrify Roald, who resolved to treat his lady a tenderness his father had never demonstrated toward his mother. “I want to love her.”
“Women are excited by the chase as much as men are.” Father was glaring at Roald with unadulterated disgust as if contemplating how a mighty warrior such as himself had managed to sire a lily-livered weakling. “Women are flattered by being pursued as much as men are driven to show their strength.”
“Your father is right.” Mother jumped into the conversation as she emerged from her bedroom where she had been taming her wild curls into a neat knot. “Women desire strong men because they fear that a weak man won’t be able to produce healthy sons.”
Roald couldn’t understand his parents’ obsession with strength at the expense of all gentleness, but before he could express his frustrated bafflement, “Shall we head to the banquet for our grand entrance then?”
All too soon for Roald, they had reached the dining hall, where a herald had announced them with trumpet call, and were eating the first course of what promised to be a long, elegant feast with the Naxen family seated at the high table as their guests of honor. Mother and Father, of course, dominated the conversation, pelting Lady Lianne with a barrage of questions that would have been daunting to any girl fresh from the convent as Roald’s betrothed.
Under the intense questioning, Lady Lianne remained remarkably poised. Her courtesy was impeccable as she answered everything Roald’s parents hurled at her with an understated grace that awed Roald. She was quiet, Roald thought, but she was clever, considering every word before she uttered it.
“I hear that at the convent you wrote a lengthy essay on the findings at various ruins of the Old Ones throughout Tortall.” Father carved his goose as he pinned Lady Lianne with his stare, and Roald bit his lip, worried that his betrothed might not sense the trap before it sprang. His father hated book-learning in women as much as he did in men. He believed that while too much reading made a man soft as rotten fruit, too much book-learning would unbalance the female mind, toppling the lady into hysteria.
“There are ruins of the aqueducts the Old Ones used to carry water to one of their settlements along the banks of Lake Naxen.” Lady Lianne’s tone was almost wistful though whether for her fief or for a collapsed civilization Roald couldn’t be certain. “Centuries after their empire fell, their no longer functioning aqueducts still tower over the landscape. They remain nearly as impressive as they were when they were built, which is what the Old Ones would have wanted, because they erected their aqueducts to be as much a statement of their dominion as a practical feat of engineering. That’s why they bothered to build such massive infrastructure for what the ruins suggest was only a small town not far from Lake Naxen.”
Her cheeks blushing as if she feared she had rambled in her reply, Lady Lianne finished in a hastier voice than Roald had ever heard from her, “Seeing those aqueducts inspired my interest in the Old Ones and their ruins, Your Majesty.”
“Some would say that such studies are harmful to the delicate female mind that can be overwhelmed by the stress of seeking such knowledge.” Mother’s gray eyes were flinty. “They would argue that a woman’s chief duty is to be a good wife and mother with any other pursuits a distraction from those most important obligations. What would be your answer to such a claim, Lady Lianne?”
“I would politely point out that a woman must be educated or else she would be unequipped to perform her duties of advising her husband and instructing her children, Your Majesty.” Lady Lianne’s deft diplomacy filled Roald with admiration.
“I agree with you, my lady.” Mother’s flinty gaze left Lady Lianne and fixed on Father instead. “However, my husband doesn’t. His Majesty insists that our frail female minds would wilt like flowers under the pressure of being well-read.”
At that minute, the musicians began to play a minuet. Eager to abandon the impending disagreement between his parents, Roald bowed and extended Lady Lianne a hand in invitation. She curtsied low before accepting it with a slight smile.
“I apologize, my lady, for the merciless questioning my parents subjected you to this evening,” Roald murmured just loudly enough to be heard over the music as he steered her into the dance.
“You make it sound as if it were torture, Your Highness.” Lady Lianne’s warm brown eyes shone with a humor and intelligence that reduced Roald to breathlessness. “I assure you that such questioning is a blessing in disguise as it sharpens my wits, and, anyway, is only to be expected when I’m betrothed to the Crown Prince.”
There was a pallor to Lady Lianne’s cheeks that no makeup could hide despite her words, and it occurred to Roald with a force that felt like a blow to the lungs that she had eaten only what manners required not be regarded as rude.
“You didn’t eat much food tonight.” Roald’s forehead furrowed with a concern she perhaps misconstrued.
“Do my eating habits disturb Your Highness?” Lady Lianne didn’t miss a step as the musicians swept into the next song but a curtain of wariness slipped across her features.
“Only if you weren’t eating much because my parents disturbed you.” Roald hoped to convey to her that he was focused on her welfare, not reprimanding her or dictating her diet.
“ I wasn’t disturbed, Your Highness.” Lady Lianne’s guard dropped. “I merely prefer simpler fare to indulging in rich food.”
“I’m glad you weren’t disturbed.” Roald locked his eyes on hers as he twirled her beneath the bridge of his arching arm. “You’ll be my wife, my lady, and though I appreciate you’ve an elder brother and a powerful father to serve as your champions, I would still protect you from all threats even if they are in my own family.”
“My father and brother are often away at war as duty demands.” Lady Lianne’s grin was all the encouragement he would ever need to champion her to his death. “Your protection would be most welcome, Your Highness.”
Flushed and flustered by her response to his attempt at gallantry, Roald changed the topic to the Old Ones she had seemed so fascinated with at dinner. “What you said about the Old Ones earlier was interesting.”
“It was insipid.” Lady Lianne’s gaze sank to the floor swallowed by swirling gowns and capes. “I apologize, Your Highness, for boring everyone at the table with my babble.”
“You didn’t babble, my lady. Babble by definition is unintelligent, and nothing that left your lips was anything less than clever.” Roald would have lifted her chin until their eyes met if he wasn’t nervous that the gesture would be too aggressive. He wouldn’t become his father especially in his relationships to women. “If anyone was bored by your words, that person is the insipid one, not you.”
“Your Highness is gracious to say so.” Lady Lianne’s eyes, glistening in the candlelight, slid from the floor back up to Roald’s face, and Roald was grateful that she had chosen to lift her chin rather than have it forced upon her by him. “I thank you for your generosity to me.”
“If you’re captivated by the legacy the Old Ones left us, doubtlessly you’re aware that this palace is built on the ruins of the one the Old Ones constructed when they installed their governor after conquering much of what is now Tortall.” Roald paused to gather his courage before taking a gander at impressing her. “What you might not know is that in the lower levels there are secret passageways they built that we could explore together now if you’re willing.”
“I’d love to”—Lady Lianne fiddled with an opal necklace that drew Roald’s attention to her bosom, which looked soft as goose feather pillows—“but I trust we would take a chaperone with us for modesty’s sake, Your Highness.”
“Of course, my lady.” Roald folded his fingers together before they were tempted to engage in any behavior unbefitting a gentleman. “We’d bring guards as escorts, and you’re welcome to invite anybody you’d like to accompany us if that would make you more comfortable.”
“I’d be comfortable with just you and the guards, Your Highness.” Lady Lianne gave him a tiny, tentative smile as she accepted the elbow he offered to her.
They gathered guards and descended a flight of stairs to the damper, darker lower levels lit only by flickering torches along the walls coated with moss. They twisted around a corner into a narrow corridor, where Roald heaved aside stones to form a gateway into an ancient passageway dank with forgotten secrets and hidden memories.
“The Old Ones built this passageway and others like it so their slaves could move from the kitchens to their dining rooms and bedrooms without being seen or heard.” Roald snatched a torch from the wall so that he and Lady Lianne would have illumination and then bowed her into the passage. “They believed slaves should go about their business as unobtrusively as possible.”
“Yet they strove to awe even slaves with their artwork.” Lady Lianne’s footfalls echoed eerily through the arches and columns of the passageway before she halted in front of a tile mosaic with brightness and size undiminished by the centuries.
“My tutor told me that man”—Roald pointed at a man in a laurel wreath and a purple-striped toga stomping into the dirt a woman whose dress was torn from her bloodied body—“was the emperor who conquered what is now Tortall. He was supposedly a cripple but that hasn’t been preserved for posterity in this mosaic. Beneath his sandaled feet he is trampling a woman who symbolizes Tortall. It sounds impossible but my tutor explained that she is the first artistic representation of Tortall in existence. The Old Ones, he said, gave us our notion of Tortall and our image of ourselves through violent subjugation. Before they conquered us, were were disunited, savage tribes or so the records of the Old Ones, which are all that survive from that era, maintain.”
“The Old Ones gave us our architecture, our alphabet, our art, and our laws.” Lady Lianne’s eyes were riveted on the mosaic of oppression covering the passage’s wall. “We’ll never quite recapture what we lost when their civilization collapsed, will we, Your Highness?”
“No.” Roald was hushed in his agreement, subdued by the timeless art of a fallen empire. “Yet that doesn’t stop us from forever trying to fill the void they left us as their greatest legacy.”
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!