Post by Shhasow on Apr 5, 2011 14:23:50 GMT 10
Title: The Greatest Trick, (4)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 665
Pairing: Raoul/Sabine
Round/Fight: 1/G
Summary: Raoul finds a secret room. Inside lies a message from his dreams.
Raoul dumped his bags as soon as he walked in the doors to his family home. He grimaced at the clicking footsteps of his great-aunt Sibelia, but managed to survive the next hour of an inquisition so fierce the royal spymasters themselves would be impressed. He had the uncharitable thought of introducing his aunt to Myles for use in questioning. No, he couldn’t do that to Myles.
When he finally managed to remove himself from the harridan’s clutches, Raoul fled to his spacious chambers. He would not have come home if not for the direct summons from the head of his family. Never mind the fact that he was the oldest male; in Goldenlake tradition, women could hold the reigns. It dated back too long for anyone to remember.
Raoul heard the same footsteps outside his door. In no mood for another harangue about his lack of a wife, he prodded a hidden switch on the wall and slipped through the now-visible crack. It led him down rickety stairs - hundreds of years old, likely - and to the basement and the oldest portions of the house.
He had yet to explore every nook and cranny, even though his youth had been divided between this house and the fief Goldenlake. Still, this house had an inordinate amount of secrets.
Bored, Raoul felt along the walls, searching for soft spots or buttons hidden by illusion from the naked eye. If he had the Gift, it would be easier.
His right hand brushed something that didn’t belong. Frowning, he looked closer and could barely make out the outline of an object not even a shade darker than the wall. It almost looked like a flame.
Raoul pressed it hard. A small dark crevice opened. He looked at it, doubtful that he could squeeze his large bulk through, but decided to take the chance. Raoul shimmied through the short tunnel and arrived at the other side. Whatever was inside, it was dusty, and he sneezed several times.
Raoul fumbled in his pockets for a light stone. When he pulled it out and whispered a word, it lit up brilliantly, shining white light in the small room. It looked like a miniature storeroom.
A familiar-looking dagger lay on a nearby wooden crate. Raoul tested the blade on the wood, impressed when the old blade shaved off a piece with hardly any pressure. He glanced at the hilt and nearly dropped it.
It was the same one he carried now.
He fumbled at his belt and withdrew the knife his father had given him before he went off for page training. It was Raven-made, and had a distinctive chip at the hilt from where he had blocked a nasty sword-cut from a Tusaine blade years ago.
All color drained from his face when he realized the other dagger, the old one that had centuries’ worth of dust, had the same chip. They were exact in every way, including the Goldenlake insignia imprinted upon the grip.
Raoul sat down hard, against the wall. He gazed at the other various items.
A handkerchief, emblazoned with a single red flame, colors dimmed.
An old shield, white with the same red flame.
An old piece of parchment with faded writing. Why did it look so hauntingly familiar, as if he had seen the very same script hundreds of times? Raoul tucked both daggers back in his belt and picked up the letter, hands trembling.
The light from the stone allowed him to read two words before he fainted. As he fell, the ghostly image of the woman from his dreams flashed in front of him. Sabine, that was her name. She crouched, pearly translucent tears creeping down her strong face, and placed the dagger reverently on the wooden crate. Then she looked up, looked straight at him and mouthed, Raoul.
Raoul didn’t feel when he struck the ground. The crinkled letter remained clutched in his tight grasp.
Dear Raoul...
QC by: inthefire
Rating: PG
Word Count: 665
Pairing: Raoul/Sabine
Round/Fight: 1/G
Summary: Raoul finds a secret room. Inside lies a message from his dreams.
Raoul dumped his bags as soon as he walked in the doors to his family home. He grimaced at the clicking footsteps of his great-aunt Sibelia, but managed to survive the next hour of an inquisition so fierce the royal spymasters themselves would be impressed. He had the uncharitable thought of introducing his aunt to Myles for use in questioning. No, he couldn’t do that to Myles.
When he finally managed to remove himself from the harridan’s clutches, Raoul fled to his spacious chambers. He would not have come home if not for the direct summons from the head of his family. Never mind the fact that he was the oldest male; in Goldenlake tradition, women could hold the reigns. It dated back too long for anyone to remember.
Raoul heard the same footsteps outside his door. In no mood for another harangue about his lack of a wife, he prodded a hidden switch on the wall and slipped through the now-visible crack. It led him down rickety stairs - hundreds of years old, likely - and to the basement and the oldest portions of the house.
He had yet to explore every nook and cranny, even though his youth had been divided between this house and the fief Goldenlake. Still, this house had an inordinate amount of secrets.
Bored, Raoul felt along the walls, searching for soft spots or buttons hidden by illusion from the naked eye. If he had the Gift, it would be easier.
His right hand brushed something that didn’t belong. Frowning, he looked closer and could barely make out the outline of an object not even a shade darker than the wall. It almost looked like a flame.
Raoul pressed it hard. A small dark crevice opened. He looked at it, doubtful that he could squeeze his large bulk through, but decided to take the chance. Raoul shimmied through the short tunnel and arrived at the other side. Whatever was inside, it was dusty, and he sneezed several times.
Raoul fumbled in his pockets for a light stone. When he pulled it out and whispered a word, it lit up brilliantly, shining white light in the small room. It looked like a miniature storeroom.
A familiar-looking dagger lay on a nearby wooden crate. Raoul tested the blade on the wood, impressed when the old blade shaved off a piece with hardly any pressure. He glanced at the hilt and nearly dropped it.
It was the same one he carried now.
He fumbled at his belt and withdrew the knife his father had given him before he went off for page training. It was Raven-made, and had a distinctive chip at the hilt from where he had blocked a nasty sword-cut from a Tusaine blade years ago.
All color drained from his face when he realized the other dagger, the old one that had centuries’ worth of dust, had the same chip. They were exact in every way, including the Goldenlake insignia imprinted upon the grip.
Raoul sat down hard, against the wall. He gazed at the other various items.
A handkerchief, emblazoned with a single red flame, colors dimmed.
An old shield, white with the same red flame.
An old piece of parchment with faded writing. Why did it look so hauntingly familiar, as if he had seen the very same script hundreds of times? Raoul tucked both daggers back in his belt and picked up the letter, hands trembling.
The light from the stone allowed him to read two words before he fainted. As he fell, the ghostly image of the woman from his dreams flashed in front of him. Sabine, that was her name. She crouched, pearly translucent tears creeping down her strong face, and placed the dagger reverently on the wooden crate. Then she looked up, looked straight at him and mouthed, Raoul.
Raoul didn’t feel when he struck the ground. The crinkled letter remained clutched in his tight grasp.
Dear Raoul...
QC by: inthefire