Post by opalgirl on Aug 2, 2009 9:31:15 GMT 10
Title: A Royal Proposition
Rating: PG-13
Length: 702
Category: Tortall
Summary: "The way she spoke those last words suggested there was something more to her brother other than the elegant, spoiled, and gilded young man who would someday be Emperor of Carthak, but Prince Ozorne didn’t hold Roger’s curiosity."
Set pre-SOTL, while Roger is in Carthak. Makes a few small assumptions about the Imperial family.
Peculiar Pairing: Roger/Princess Fazia.
******
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Your Grace,” Princess Fazia said, her voice deep and smooth. Roger rose from his bow and looked up at the woman in front of him, veiled and elegant, glittering with jewelry and clad in the best silks money could buy.
She was barely older than he was, the older sister of the Imperial heir apparent, and already married. When her husband had been pointed out to him at a banquet, Roger had been mildly disappointed.
“Your Highness?” What in Mithros’ name did she want with him? He had been warned about the rules of propriety in Carthak before he’d left for the university and had gotten several more warnings when he arrived. Surely this violated several of those customs.
Her mouth quirked into a smile and she played with the ribbons threaded through her black hair. “Have you ever seen such things, Your Grace?”
Roger frowned, as she removed the pins holding the silk veil in place and discarded both pins and cloth carelessly.
“My brother says your uncle’s court is appallingly tame,” Fazia said, her dark eyes focusing on him. “Ozorne always loved to exaggerate, but I don’t think he was that time.”
He blinked as the princess summoned a slave with a snap of her fingers, had the girl pour wine, and dismissed her from the room, all in a moment.
“Tyran,” she said, wrapping a glittering hand around one glass. “I am rather partial to it. Would you care to join me, Your Grace?”
“Certainly, Your Highness,” he said, bowing once again and taking the seat she lazily gestured to.
“You were once your uncle’s heir, I understand?”
He managed to keep the scowl from his face – just. “Yes, until the birth of my cousin – the king’s son.” This woman was plotting something – she was clever, more so than her brother or husband gave her credit for – but he could not reason out what it was.
She leaned back in her chair, her glass cradled loosely in one hand. “The healer tells my husband he will never have children - he is the one at fault, not me. There is a possibility a child I did have could inherit the throne; Ozorne is… unlikely to ever marry.”
The way she spoke those last words suggested there was something more to her brother other than the elegant, spoiled, and gilded young man who would someday be Emperor of Carthak, but Prince Ozorne didn’t hold Roger’s curiosity. He raised his eyebrows. “What are you proposing, Your Highness?”
The princess’ smile became a tiny smirk. “Clueless boy.”
He bristled at the insult and at her laughter – she was laughing at him – and got to his feet. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I –“
“Sit.” She sat up, setting her glass aside. Her tone brooked no argument; she was a woman well-used to giving orders, and he sat.
“I cannot put you on a throne,” she said, her eyes meeting his, “but I could make your son Emperor one day.”
He swallowed and fumbled for the glass she’d set aside for him. “And your husband?”
Fazia rolled her eyes, every inch the bored and impatient noblewoman. “He has his affairs among the court, and I am expected to look away from it. Not even my father would support me if I confronted Gazanoi about his behavior. I would only humiliate my parents, my brother, and my husband. Tell me,” she inquired lazily, “are you northerners so honorable?”
Roger shrugged. “Under an ancient law of noble privilege, men are entitled to challenge men who dishonor them to duels or such.”
The princess wore the tiniest of smirks on her face and arched one eyebrow. “Then I suggest we don’t get caught, hmm? No one will question my son’s parentage – Gazanoi is far too proud to reveal that he is infertile by claiming any child I present him with as illegitimate.”
The scheming female had planned this, Roger realized, mildly annoyed. She’d managed to outwit him. She was far from unattractive and seemingly more intelligent than any of the ladies in Aunt Lianne’s circle he’d been introduced to.
“Come, you clueless boy.” She beckoned to him and he followed, willingly.
Rating: PG-13
Length: 702
Category: Tortall
Summary: "The way she spoke those last words suggested there was something more to her brother other than the elegant, spoiled, and gilded young man who would someday be Emperor of Carthak, but Prince Ozorne didn’t hold Roger’s curiosity."
Set pre-SOTL, while Roger is in Carthak. Makes a few small assumptions about the Imperial family.
Peculiar Pairing: Roger/Princess Fazia.
******
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Your Grace,” Princess Fazia said, her voice deep and smooth. Roger rose from his bow and looked up at the woman in front of him, veiled and elegant, glittering with jewelry and clad in the best silks money could buy.
She was barely older than he was, the older sister of the Imperial heir apparent, and already married. When her husband had been pointed out to him at a banquet, Roger had been mildly disappointed.
“Your Highness?” What in Mithros’ name did she want with him? He had been warned about the rules of propriety in Carthak before he’d left for the university and had gotten several more warnings when he arrived. Surely this violated several of those customs.
Her mouth quirked into a smile and she played with the ribbons threaded through her black hair. “Have you ever seen such things, Your Grace?”
Roger frowned, as she removed the pins holding the silk veil in place and discarded both pins and cloth carelessly.
“My brother says your uncle’s court is appallingly tame,” Fazia said, her dark eyes focusing on him. “Ozorne always loved to exaggerate, but I don’t think he was that time.”
He blinked as the princess summoned a slave with a snap of her fingers, had the girl pour wine, and dismissed her from the room, all in a moment.
“Tyran,” she said, wrapping a glittering hand around one glass. “I am rather partial to it. Would you care to join me, Your Grace?”
“Certainly, Your Highness,” he said, bowing once again and taking the seat she lazily gestured to.
“You were once your uncle’s heir, I understand?”
He managed to keep the scowl from his face – just. “Yes, until the birth of my cousin – the king’s son.” This woman was plotting something – she was clever, more so than her brother or husband gave her credit for – but he could not reason out what it was.
She leaned back in her chair, her glass cradled loosely in one hand. “The healer tells my husband he will never have children - he is the one at fault, not me. There is a possibility a child I did have could inherit the throne; Ozorne is… unlikely to ever marry.”
The way she spoke those last words suggested there was something more to her brother other than the elegant, spoiled, and gilded young man who would someday be Emperor of Carthak, but Prince Ozorne didn’t hold Roger’s curiosity. He raised his eyebrows. “What are you proposing, Your Highness?”
The princess’ smile became a tiny smirk. “Clueless boy.”
He bristled at the insult and at her laughter – she was laughing at him – and got to his feet. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I –“
“Sit.” She sat up, setting her glass aside. Her tone brooked no argument; she was a woman well-used to giving orders, and he sat.
“I cannot put you on a throne,” she said, her eyes meeting his, “but I could make your son Emperor one day.”
He swallowed and fumbled for the glass she’d set aside for him. “And your husband?”
Fazia rolled her eyes, every inch the bored and impatient noblewoman. “He has his affairs among the court, and I am expected to look away from it. Not even my father would support me if I confronted Gazanoi about his behavior. I would only humiliate my parents, my brother, and my husband. Tell me,” she inquired lazily, “are you northerners so honorable?”
Roger shrugged. “Under an ancient law of noble privilege, men are entitled to challenge men who dishonor them to duels or such.”
The princess wore the tiniest of smirks on her face and arched one eyebrow. “Then I suggest we don’t get caught, hmm? No one will question my son’s parentage – Gazanoi is far too proud to reveal that he is infertile by claiming any child I present him with as illegitimate.”
The scheming female had planned this, Roger realized, mildly annoyed. She’d managed to outwit him. She was far from unattractive and seemingly more intelligent than any of the ladies in Aunt Lianne’s circle he’d been introduced to.
“Come, you clueless boy.” She beckoned to him and he followed, willingly.
And you've written Fazia wonderfully. ♥
Thanks, though. 
