Post by devilinthedetails on Oct 6, 2018 0:37:07 GMT 10
Title: Free as a Chariot
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Freedom
Summary: Traveling in Carthak, Kalasin experiences the freedoms and restrictions of her rank.
Free as a Chariot
Sunlight and the sound of the wind sweeping through the Carthaki desert filtered through the purple silk covering the palanquin Kalasin and Fazia, her mother-in-law, rode in on the emperor’s progress south to the glittering twin cities of Amar and Apal then further southeast along the sands of Shusin province. Kalasin would have lifted the silk to admire the shades of sand in the desert surrounding her if she hadn’t known it would earn her a sharp scolding from Fazia, who regarded such behavior as immodesty and an invitation to the vulgarity of burned skin.
If the curve of her pregnancy hadn’t prevented it, Kalasin would have traveled on a camel with the wind rippling through her hair. Instead she was trapped in the palanquin with her ever-disapproving mother-in-law. To take her mind of her mingled misery and boredom, Kalasin reflected on how she came to be traversing the vast Carthaki desert in the first place...
(A month ago, Kaddar had clasped her hands between his and led her to a mosaic in a hallway she had passed a thousand times without ever examining in detail. An emperor–blooming in the full flower of youth–sat on a golden throne wearing all the imperial regalia. His throne was centered in the middle of an arching bridge that spanned a turquoise river between two shining cities. Before him, masses of people bowed and presented him with chests of gleaming gemstones, carts laden with precious metals, and even a leopard-skin shield that reminded her of one Kaddar’s kept polished in the imperial armory...
“This depicts one of my earliest triumphs against rebellious nobles.” Kaddar’s fingers brushed across the image of the emperor Kalasin realized represented himself turned to tile. “The governors in Amar and Apal refused to accept my rule. I besieged their cities and crushed their revolt. The governors lost their heads and the cities were forced to pay me rich tribute but other than that were left undamaged. As was my right, I appointed a new governor for each city. We will travel south next month to ensure that my governors are still loyal and then continue our journey into Shusin province where the tribesmen have been known to get troublesome if neglected by the emperor for too long.”
At the time, Kalasin had been excited to explore Amar and Apal, often referred to as the twin jewels of Carthak for their vibrant trades, the unique styles of their craftsmen, and the might of the imperial barracks stationed in each of the cities. In her eagerness to see more of Carthak, she hadn’t considered how dull traveling in a palanquin could be...)
An outbreak of cheers told her that her husband’s chariot–escorted by the chariots of premier nobles and generals–had passed a village that had apparently turned out to applaud their emperor. At the reminder that Kaddar was riding in the chariots that she would always believe were risky and reckless, Kalasin’s forehead furrowed. For the millionth time since she had wed Kaddar, she wished that she could dissuade him from hunting, racing, and practicing war in his chariot with his university friends.
Hoping that her arguments to Fazia, who, for all her faults, was protective of her only son, wouldn’t fall on as deaf ears as they had with Kaddar, Kalasin asked, “Don’t you worry that your son might be injured in a chariot accident?”
Fazia stared at Kalasin across her nose in a way that made it clear prudent people didn’t discuss accidents that might befall emperors before deigning to reply, “My son, as befitted a prince of Carthak, was trained from the age of five in the arts of making war and hunting from his chariot. No harm will befall him, and the people must see how strong he is, how capable of holding this empire together he is.”
“How could you bear to watch your five-year-old son race in a chariot?” Kalasin’s palms circled her womb.
“I thought of the glory and honor of Carthak.” Fazia’s sharp eyes fell on the swell of Kalasin’s pregnancy, and her eyes softened as they only did when she beheld her son or the promise of the child Kalasin carried inside her. “If the Goddess has blessed you and that is a son growing inside you, you will understand soon enough that you have a duty to raise a strong son for Carthak.”
Recognizing the implacability of her mother-in-law and reluctant to ruin the journey with an outright confrontation, Kalasin sighed and settled back into the satin pillows that lined the palanquin. Fazia did the same, and as Fazia’s peculiarly dainty snores filled the palanquin, Kalasin read from a tome on Shusin magic. The Shusin mages, she was learning, were especially adept at detecting and devising antidotes to poisons. She hoped to find a Shusin mage she could convince to share some secrets with her in exchange for some of her own healing techniques...
In the heat, she must have drifted into dreams, because she awoke with a jolt when the men bearing the palanquin set it down on the ground. Emerging from the palanquin with the aid of one of the sweating men who had carried it all day, Kalasin squinted into the orange sunset and saw that a grand silk tent had already been erected for her to share with her husband.
That night, as they lay side by side on a mountain of blankets, Kalasin trailed a thumb along Kaddar’s arm and murmured, “I missed you when you were in your chariot all day.”
“I love to ride in my chariot, but I love you too.” Kaddar took her thumb to his lips for a light kiss. “Perhaps you could join me in my chariot. Then you wouldn’t miss me, and I wouldn’t miss my chariot.”
Kalasin was so breathless at the honor he was offering her–no empress in Carthaki history had ever rode in her husband’s chariot–that she nodded before she remembered to protest that chariots frightened her. When Kaddar’s kisses found her mouth instead of her thumb, she forgot her fear of chariots.
The next morning, as Kaddar offered her his arm to guide her into the chariot, Kalasin’s fear returned in force. “Aren’t you afraid the chariot will collapse under my weight?” Kalasin demanded of her husband, breathless with terror rather than honor now that the moment of entering the chariot had arrived.
“The chariot is built for stability as much as it is for speed.” Kaddar chuckled in her ear as he coaxed her into the chariot. “It won’t collapse under your weight.”
Despite Kaddar’s assurance, Kalasin still spent her first hour on the chariot clutching at its sides, nervous that her weight might cause it to topple at any moment. At last, she relaxed enough for Kaddar to slip her fingers beneath his on the reins and teach her how to steer the chariot. By sundown, Kalasin had come to embrace the chariot for its swiftness. The chariot was fast and forbidden, which made her feel as free as anything could in Carthak.
It didn’t surprise Kalasin when Fazia objected to that freedom, commenting with a chiding head shake as Kalasin climbed down from the chariot that evening, “I don’t know where you got the idea that you should ride in the emperor’s chariot”–
“From the emperor himself, Mother,” Kaddar cut in, and Kalasin bit back a gasp since her husband rarely interrupted or resisted his indomitable mother. “The emperor desired his wife’s company on the journey, and his wife obliged him.”
“Was the emperor aware that no empress in all of Carthak’s storied history has ever ridden in a chariot with her husband?” Fazia, eyes narrowed to snake slits, seemed to have recovered admirably from the shock of her son’s interjection.
“Of course the emperor was aware, Mother.” Kaddar kissed his mother’s cheek but that only drew a scowl from her. “The emperor wished to rewrite history with his empress.”
“The emperor isn’t always at liberty to rewrite history on a whim.” Fazia’s lips were thin as the slits of her eyes.
“The emperor didn’t rewrite history on a whim.” Kaddar gave his mother a grin that could only be described as impish Kalasin thought. “The emperor rewrote history after careful consideration as he does everything else.”
“Then I hope that the emperor will consider carefully the stir it will create if his empress rides into the twin cities alongside her husband on a chariot.” Fazia curtsied and disappeared in a scolding swish of skirts.
To avoid upsetting Fazia, Kaddar didn’t invite Kalasin to ride in his chariot with him three days later when they paraded into Amar and Apal. Kalasin was too busy preparing for the joint feast the governors of Amar and Apal would be hosting in honor of her and her husband at the governor of Amar’s palace to sulk over this snub.
She rather enjoyed the banquet that took place in the opulent garden of Amar’s palace. Reclining on their elbows on cushioned couches beside a pool, they ate and drank from dishes of delicacies and amphoras of wine floating in the placid surface of the water. Most of the foods pleased her palate until a dessert of dormice soaked in honey and cinnamon arrived and she had to choke down the nibble that permitted those below her to consume it freely.
“Dormice,” she complained to Kaddar with a shudder as she lounged against the pillows on the wide bed in the expansive chambers the governor of Amar had graciously granted them on their arrival. “One bite was almost enough for me to lose the rest of the meal I had eaten.”
“If you think dormice are awful, wait until tomorrow.” Kaddar tapped her nose in a gentle, teasing warning. “In Amar and Apal, they eat a rotten fish spread smeared on charred toast for breakfast as a delicacy. It would cause a diplomatic disaster if you refused to eat it.”
“I don’t know about that.” Kalasin folded her hands over the bulge of her pregnancy. “I think I can refuse rotten fish on the grounds of maintaining the health of the baby I carry inside me.”
“Then, as your faithful husband, I must make a tremendous sacrifice and join you in abstaining from the rotten fish for it would be churlish for me to consume anything that distresses my beloved wife.” Kaddar’s eyes twinkled at her. “I wouldn’t want you to feel alone in not enjoying the rotten fish spread. I’m certain that the people of Amar and Apal will not only understand but sympathize with my great suffering on behalf of my empress.”
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Freedom
Summary: Traveling in Carthak, Kalasin experiences the freedoms and restrictions of her rank.
Free as a Chariot
Sunlight and the sound of the wind sweeping through the Carthaki desert filtered through the purple silk covering the palanquin Kalasin and Fazia, her mother-in-law, rode in on the emperor’s progress south to the glittering twin cities of Amar and Apal then further southeast along the sands of Shusin province. Kalasin would have lifted the silk to admire the shades of sand in the desert surrounding her if she hadn’t known it would earn her a sharp scolding from Fazia, who regarded such behavior as immodesty and an invitation to the vulgarity of burned skin.
If the curve of her pregnancy hadn’t prevented it, Kalasin would have traveled on a camel with the wind rippling through her hair. Instead she was trapped in the palanquin with her ever-disapproving mother-in-law. To take her mind of her mingled misery and boredom, Kalasin reflected on how she came to be traversing the vast Carthaki desert in the first place...
(A month ago, Kaddar had clasped her hands between his and led her to a mosaic in a hallway she had passed a thousand times without ever examining in detail. An emperor–blooming in the full flower of youth–sat on a golden throne wearing all the imperial regalia. His throne was centered in the middle of an arching bridge that spanned a turquoise river between two shining cities. Before him, masses of people bowed and presented him with chests of gleaming gemstones, carts laden with precious metals, and even a leopard-skin shield that reminded her of one Kaddar’s kept polished in the imperial armory...
“This depicts one of my earliest triumphs against rebellious nobles.” Kaddar’s fingers brushed across the image of the emperor Kalasin realized represented himself turned to tile. “The governors in Amar and Apal refused to accept my rule. I besieged their cities and crushed their revolt. The governors lost their heads and the cities were forced to pay me rich tribute but other than that were left undamaged. As was my right, I appointed a new governor for each city. We will travel south next month to ensure that my governors are still loyal and then continue our journey into Shusin province where the tribesmen have been known to get troublesome if neglected by the emperor for too long.”
At the time, Kalasin had been excited to explore Amar and Apal, often referred to as the twin jewels of Carthak for their vibrant trades, the unique styles of their craftsmen, and the might of the imperial barracks stationed in each of the cities. In her eagerness to see more of Carthak, she hadn’t considered how dull traveling in a palanquin could be...)
An outbreak of cheers told her that her husband’s chariot–escorted by the chariots of premier nobles and generals–had passed a village that had apparently turned out to applaud their emperor. At the reminder that Kaddar was riding in the chariots that she would always believe were risky and reckless, Kalasin’s forehead furrowed. For the millionth time since she had wed Kaddar, she wished that she could dissuade him from hunting, racing, and practicing war in his chariot with his university friends.
Hoping that her arguments to Fazia, who, for all her faults, was protective of her only son, wouldn’t fall on as deaf ears as they had with Kaddar, Kalasin asked, “Don’t you worry that your son might be injured in a chariot accident?”
Fazia stared at Kalasin across her nose in a way that made it clear prudent people didn’t discuss accidents that might befall emperors before deigning to reply, “My son, as befitted a prince of Carthak, was trained from the age of five in the arts of making war and hunting from his chariot. No harm will befall him, and the people must see how strong he is, how capable of holding this empire together he is.”
“How could you bear to watch your five-year-old son race in a chariot?” Kalasin’s palms circled her womb.
“I thought of the glory and honor of Carthak.” Fazia’s sharp eyes fell on the swell of Kalasin’s pregnancy, and her eyes softened as they only did when she beheld her son or the promise of the child Kalasin carried inside her. “If the Goddess has blessed you and that is a son growing inside you, you will understand soon enough that you have a duty to raise a strong son for Carthak.”
Recognizing the implacability of her mother-in-law and reluctant to ruin the journey with an outright confrontation, Kalasin sighed and settled back into the satin pillows that lined the palanquin. Fazia did the same, and as Fazia’s peculiarly dainty snores filled the palanquin, Kalasin read from a tome on Shusin magic. The Shusin mages, she was learning, were especially adept at detecting and devising antidotes to poisons. She hoped to find a Shusin mage she could convince to share some secrets with her in exchange for some of her own healing techniques...
In the heat, she must have drifted into dreams, because she awoke with a jolt when the men bearing the palanquin set it down on the ground. Emerging from the palanquin with the aid of one of the sweating men who had carried it all day, Kalasin squinted into the orange sunset and saw that a grand silk tent had already been erected for her to share with her husband.
That night, as they lay side by side on a mountain of blankets, Kalasin trailed a thumb along Kaddar’s arm and murmured, “I missed you when you were in your chariot all day.”
“I love to ride in my chariot, but I love you too.” Kaddar took her thumb to his lips for a light kiss. “Perhaps you could join me in my chariot. Then you wouldn’t miss me, and I wouldn’t miss my chariot.”
Kalasin was so breathless at the honor he was offering her–no empress in Carthaki history had ever rode in her husband’s chariot–that she nodded before she remembered to protest that chariots frightened her. When Kaddar’s kisses found her mouth instead of her thumb, she forgot her fear of chariots.
The next morning, as Kaddar offered her his arm to guide her into the chariot, Kalasin’s fear returned in force. “Aren’t you afraid the chariot will collapse under my weight?” Kalasin demanded of her husband, breathless with terror rather than honor now that the moment of entering the chariot had arrived.
“The chariot is built for stability as much as it is for speed.” Kaddar chuckled in her ear as he coaxed her into the chariot. “It won’t collapse under your weight.”
Despite Kaddar’s assurance, Kalasin still spent her first hour on the chariot clutching at its sides, nervous that her weight might cause it to topple at any moment. At last, she relaxed enough for Kaddar to slip her fingers beneath his on the reins and teach her how to steer the chariot. By sundown, Kalasin had come to embrace the chariot for its swiftness. The chariot was fast and forbidden, which made her feel as free as anything could in Carthak.
It didn’t surprise Kalasin when Fazia objected to that freedom, commenting with a chiding head shake as Kalasin climbed down from the chariot that evening, “I don’t know where you got the idea that you should ride in the emperor’s chariot”–
“From the emperor himself, Mother,” Kaddar cut in, and Kalasin bit back a gasp since her husband rarely interrupted or resisted his indomitable mother. “The emperor desired his wife’s company on the journey, and his wife obliged him.”
“Was the emperor aware that no empress in all of Carthak’s storied history has ever ridden in a chariot with her husband?” Fazia, eyes narrowed to snake slits, seemed to have recovered admirably from the shock of her son’s interjection.
“Of course the emperor was aware, Mother.” Kaddar kissed his mother’s cheek but that only drew a scowl from her. “The emperor wished to rewrite history with his empress.”
“The emperor isn’t always at liberty to rewrite history on a whim.” Fazia’s lips were thin as the slits of her eyes.
“The emperor didn’t rewrite history on a whim.” Kaddar gave his mother a grin that could only be described as impish Kalasin thought. “The emperor rewrote history after careful consideration as he does everything else.”
“Then I hope that the emperor will consider carefully the stir it will create if his empress rides into the twin cities alongside her husband on a chariot.” Fazia curtsied and disappeared in a scolding swish of skirts.
To avoid upsetting Fazia, Kaddar didn’t invite Kalasin to ride in his chariot with him three days later when they paraded into Amar and Apal. Kalasin was too busy preparing for the joint feast the governors of Amar and Apal would be hosting in honor of her and her husband at the governor of Amar’s palace to sulk over this snub.
She rather enjoyed the banquet that took place in the opulent garden of Amar’s palace. Reclining on their elbows on cushioned couches beside a pool, they ate and drank from dishes of delicacies and amphoras of wine floating in the placid surface of the water. Most of the foods pleased her palate until a dessert of dormice soaked in honey and cinnamon arrived and she had to choke down the nibble that permitted those below her to consume it freely.
“Dormice,” she complained to Kaddar with a shudder as she lounged against the pillows on the wide bed in the expansive chambers the governor of Amar had graciously granted them on their arrival. “One bite was almost enough for me to lose the rest of the meal I had eaten.”
“If you think dormice are awful, wait until tomorrow.” Kaddar tapped her nose in a gentle, teasing warning. “In Amar and Apal, they eat a rotten fish spread smeared on charred toast for breakfast as a delicacy. It would cause a diplomatic disaster if you refused to eat it.”
“I don’t know about that.” Kalasin folded her hands over the bulge of her pregnancy. “I think I can refuse rotten fish on the grounds of maintaining the health of the baby I carry inside me.”
“Then, as your faithful husband, I must make a tremendous sacrifice and join you in abstaining from the rotten fish for it would be churlish for me to consume anything that distresses my beloved wife.” Kaddar’s eyes twinkled at her. “I wouldn’t want you to feel alone in not enjoying the rotten fish spread. I’m certain that the people of Amar and Apal will not only understand but sympathize with my great suffering on behalf of my empress.”
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!