Post by journeycat on Dec 2, 2010 4:48:31 GMT 10
Title: Everlasting
Rating: G
Card: 1
Bingo: father and son + Jonathan + ball + regret +gifts
Length: 729 words
Summary: Jonathan and Roald and their ancient inheritance.
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Do you ever hate me?
It was something Jonathan always wondered but never voiced aloud; kings simply did not express doubt like that because it was a sign of weakness, even when it was just a father speaking to his son. There was always that barrier of royalty. For some reason it weighed heavily on him at this moment, standing with his son against the wall and watching the dancers—for once, they were not fawned over, solicited, bombarded with cleverly veiled insults. This was a private affair, at Thayet’s insistence, and he found that he quite enjoyed this casual Midwinter ball with family and friends.
She herself was clearly delighting in this, if her merry eyes and flushed cheeks were any indication. She never looked more beautiful to him, elegant in her middle age, hair still rich and smile still true, as she was dragged around the ballroom by an obliviously clumsy Gary.
Lord Wyldon was ever precise in his steps with Shinko, who looked relaxed and even amused as her giant belly continuously bounced against him; her second pregnancy was much more prominent than Liano’s had been. Twins, possibly, Baird had muttered out of the corner of his mouth one night at a banquet, or one really fat baby. It had not been easy to think up an excuse for his guests as to why he had spit wine all over the tablecloth.
Jonathan felt Kalasin’s loss clearly, as he always did at Midwinter—she had always been his jewel, beautiful, precious, his lovely daughter, but now she shined at the Carthaki court instead of here. Watching Vania made up for it just a little; he didn’t think she had stopped laughing this whole time, and now she was dancing with little Rikash in her arms.
Jasson and Lianne were as always holed up in a corner together, debating politics or economy or whatever intellectual topics they had latched on to now, and he had long since lost sight of Liam, who changed partners more than he could count. He would not be surprised if he had already left with one of the prettier ones. Like father, like son, Jonathan reflected.
And here beside him was Roald: his pride and joy, his heir, his son. He loomed large and handsome in his sapphire blue tunic that matched Jonathan’s. At the moment, he had eyes only for Liano as she danced on Raoul’s feet. Remember this, he thought wistfully. One day it’ll all be gone.
“I did my best,” Jonathan sighed.
Roald glanced at him quizzically. “Father?”
“Nothing. Here, I have something for you.”
Years of permanence made it difficult to remove—Jonathan was beginning to think his fingers had gotten fat when the ring finally popped off. The band was pure gold, heavy but not cumbersome, and set with a large sapphire. It was no more impressive than other jewels—indeed, the royal treasury had bigger and brighter—but this was not the ring of a king or royal member or anything official: this was his family ring.
“This ring,” Jonathan said gravely, “was passed to me from my father, who got it from his father, all the way back to the first lord of Conte. It was said he got it from the last of the Old Ones who still walked the earth searching for a man worthy of his treasure. I don’t know if it’s actually true, but I believe it is. And now I want you to have it.”
“Father, no,” Roald protested. “I can’t accept this. You have plenty of years to wear it still.”
“Maybe. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing is ever certain. My father gave this to me three days before his accident, and it’s something I’ve never forgotten. Take it. Think of it as one more responsibility for you and one less for me.”
Roald accepted it with an expression of such reverence that Jonathan loved him a little bit more—and he didn’t think that was possible. Only he would understand the significance of such an heirloom, how important it was, how much it meant to the men who came before them and the men who would come after them. Or women, Jonathan thought wryly. After all, Liano will be next.
He watched Roald slide it on his finger. It was a perfect fit.
Rating: G
Card: 1
Bingo: father and son + Jonathan + ball + regret +gifts
Length: 729 words
Summary: Jonathan and Roald and their ancient inheritance.
-----
Do you ever hate me?
It was something Jonathan always wondered but never voiced aloud; kings simply did not express doubt like that because it was a sign of weakness, even when it was just a father speaking to his son. There was always that barrier of royalty. For some reason it weighed heavily on him at this moment, standing with his son against the wall and watching the dancers—for once, they were not fawned over, solicited, bombarded with cleverly veiled insults. This was a private affair, at Thayet’s insistence, and he found that he quite enjoyed this casual Midwinter ball with family and friends.
She herself was clearly delighting in this, if her merry eyes and flushed cheeks were any indication. She never looked more beautiful to him, elegant in her middle age, hair still rich and smile still true, as she was dragged around the ballroom by an obliviously clumsy Gary.
Lord Wyldon was ever precise in his steps with Shinko, who looked relaxed and even amused as her giant belly continuously bounced against him; her second pregnancy was much more prominent than Liano’s had been. Twins, possibly, Baird had muttered out of the corner of his mouth one night at a banquet, or one really fat baby. It had not been easy to think up an excuse for his guests as to why he had spit wine all over the tablecloth.
Jonathan felt Kalasin’s loss clearly, as he always did at Midwinter—she had always been his jewel, beautiful, precious, his lovely daughter, but now she shined at the Carthaki court instead of here. Watching Vania made up for it just a little; he didn’t think she had stopped laughing this whole time, and now she was dancing with little Rikash in her arms.
Jasson and Lianne were as always holed up in a corner together, debating politics or economy or whatever intellectual topics they had latched on to now, and he had long since lost sight of Liam, who changed partners more than he could count. He would not be surprised if he had already left with one of the prettier ones. Like father, like son, Jonathan reflected.
And here beside him was Roald: his pride and joy, his heir, his son. He loomed large and handsome in his sapphire blue tunic that matched Jonathan’s. At the moment, he had eyes only for Liano as she danced on Raoul’s feet. Remember this, he thought wistfully. One day it’ll all be gone.
“I did my best,” Jonathan sighed.
Roald glanced at him quizzically. “Father?”
“Nothing. Here, I have something for you.”
Years of permanence made it difficult to remove—Jonathan was beginning to think his fingers had gotten fat when the ring finally popped off. The band was pure gold, heavy but not cumbersome, and set with a large sapphire. It was no more impressive than other jewels—indeed, the royal treasury had bigger and brighter—but this was not the ring of a king or royal member or anything official: this was his family ring.
“This ring,” Jonathan said gravely, “was passed to me from my father, who got it from his father, all the way back to the first lord of Conte. It was said he got it from the last of the Old Ones who still walked the earth searching for a man worthy of his treasure. I don’t know if it’s actually true, but I believe it is. And now I want you to have it.”
“Father, no,” Roald protested. “I can’t accept this. You have plenty of years to wear it still.”
“Maybe. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing is ever certain. My father gave this to me three days before his accident, and it’s something I’ve never forgotten. Take it. Think of it as one more responsibility for you and one less for me.”
Roald accepted it with an expression of such reverence that Jonathan loved him a little bit more—and he didn’t think that was possible. Only he would understand the significance of such an heirloom, how important it was, how much it meant to the men who came before them and the men who would come after them. Or women, Jonathan thought wryly. After all, Liano will be next.
He watched Roald slide it on his finger. It was a perfect fit.