Post by Shhasow on Mar 15, 2011 13:09:18 GMT 10
Title: Memories
Rating: PG
Word Count: 551
Pairing: Kalasin/Wyldon
Round/Fight: 1C
Summary: Kalasin recalls the attack on the nursery.
A/N: This fic assumes that the attack on the royal nursery happened the last day of the Immortal war. It’s not a major point, though.
Kalasin doesn’t remember much about that day.
She remembers bits and flashes, fear and screams and their nanny holding them close. She remembers the last because the woman’s arms were like a vice, squeezing her too tightly until she could hardly breathe.
Despite the hushing of the women, all of the children whimpered as the screeches of immortals grew stronger, as the click click of silver claws against stone came more quickly to their ears.
Kally remembers that too well; she still wakes up at night in a cold sweat, and the only part of the dream she can recall is a steady click click.
The nursery had windows open to sunlight and air. That day, monstrous figures of misshapen horse-hawks blocked the light. Instead of golden sun, they saw golden eyes peering inside. Kally can still recall her flesh shivering when those eyes ran over her, hungry.
Still by now, all of this has largely faded, dimmed and muted by fear and adrenaline. One thing yet remains, the moment when the first hurrock shoved open the door and screeched a triumphant cry at the unarmed, undefended women and children.
A man came out of nowhere, it seemed, a tall, broad-shouldered, nearly bald knight with a flashing sword and a murderous glare, almost more frightening than the immortals.
Kally cheered him on in her mind, though she was still too frozen to speak, and silent tears fell when one silver claw broke through his stalwart defense and savaged his arm. The man cried out just once, then switched his sword to his other hand and continued fighting.
By the end of it, one dead hurrock filled the doorway. Another lay half-inside. That one’s head was nearly severed. Its eyes continued staring at Kally even in death.
The jostle and clinking of metal from outside stirred the inhabitants of the room from their shocked stupor. Several soldiers arrived, mouths agape at the frightened children and the lone knight who stood before them, one arm hanging uselessly, the other still clutching a sword.
As one, they bowed to him.
He nodded once, and only then did he turn to the women and allow one to bind up his bloody arm. It is then that Kally realized that it was the training master, Lord Wyldon of Cavall.
She still feels a bolt of pride shoot through her. She was to train under him.
Kally eased herself from the nanny’s iron grip and offered her most graceful curtsy.
His brown eyes met hers, and he smiled a tense smile. Lord Wyldon inclined his head at the princess who should have been his student.
Later, when Kally no longer felt that the world had jolted to a halt and that she had only barely hung on, she found out that when her father discovered out how close she and her siblings were to death, he bowed to the training master and offered him a limitless boon.
Lord Wyldon, she was told, had paused a moment, then asked only for one thing.
“The war is over,” Roald had related in Wyldon’s voice. “I would like to see my wife.”
Kally sighs. She wishes that she could be like Lord Wyldon, or at the very least - since she had to have one - that her future husband might be like him.
QC by: jazzyjess
Rating: PG
Word Count: 551
Pairing: Kalasin/Wyldon
Round/Fight: 1C
Summary: Kalasin recalls the attack on the nursery.
A/N: This fic assumes that the attack on the royal nursery happened the last day of the Immortal war. It’s not a major point, though.
Kalasin doesn’t remember much about that day.
She remembers bits and flashes, fear and screams and their nanny holding them close. She remembers the last because the woman’s arms were like a vice, squeezing her too tightly until she could hardly breathe.
Despite the hushing of the women, all of the children whimpered as the screeches of immortals grew stronger, as the click click of silver claws against stone came more quickly to their ears.
Kally remembers that too well; she still wakes up at night in a cold sweat, and the only part of the dream she can recall is a steady click click.
The nursery had windows open to sunlight and air. That day, monstrous figures of misshapen horse-hawks blocked the light. Instead of golden sun, they saw golden eyes peering inside. Kally can still recall her flesh shivering when those eyes ran over her, hungry.
Still by now, all of this has largely faded, dimmed and muted by fear and adrenaline. One thing yet remains, the moment when the first hurrock shoved open the door and screeched a triumphant cry at the unarmed, undefended women and children.
A man came out of nowhere, it seemed, a tall, broad-shouldered, nearly bald knight with a flashing sword and a murderous glare, almost more frightening than the immortals.
Kally cheered him on in her mind, though she was still too frozen to speak, and silent tears fell when one silver claw broke through his stalwart defense and savaged his arm. The man cried out just once, then switched his sword to his other hand and continued fighting.
By the end of it, one dead hurrock filled the doorway. Another lay half-inside. That one’s head was nearly severed. Its eyes continued staring at Kally even in death.
The jostle and clinking of metal from outside stirred the inhabitants of the room from their shocked stupor. Several soldiers arrived, mouths agape at the frightened children and the lone knight who stood before them, one arm hanging uselessly, the other still clutching a sword.
As one, they bowed to him.
He nodded once, and only then did he turn to the women and allow one to bind up his bloody arm. It is then that Kally realized that it was the training master, Lord Wyldon of Cavall.
She still feels a bolt of pride shoot through her. She was to train under him.
Kally eased herself from the nanny’s iron grip and offered her most graceful curtsy.
His brown eyes met hers, and he smiled a tense smile. Lord Wyldon inclined his head at the princess who should have been his student.
Later, when Kally no longer felt that the world had jolted to a halt and that she had only barely hung on, she found out that when her father discovered out how close she and her siblings were to death, he bowed to the training master and offered him a limitless boon.
Lord Wyldon, she was told, had paused a moment, then asked only for one thing.
“The war is over,” Roald had related in Wyldon’s voice. “I would like to see my wife.”
Kally sighs. She wishes that she could be like Lord Wyldon, or at the very least - since she had to have one - that her future husband might be like him.
QC by: jazzyjess