Post by Shhasow on Mar 20, 2011 8:26:49 GMT 10
Title: Son of the Desert (1)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 399
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: Zahir hears an unsettling truth before leaving for the palace.
As a child, Zahir often felt stung by his father. He was a kind enough man, a very capable chief of the Bloody Hawk tribe, but there was something in his eyes whenever he looked at his son.
Zahir often caught his father, Halef Seif, watching him when he thought the boy wasn’t looking. Halef had a peculiar expression on his face, and not a happy one. It was searching, resigned, and angry all at the same time, and whenever he’d realize that he had been gazing at his son for an hour, the man roused himself to yell at his mother. At such times, Kara was unusually complacent, though Halef never went so far as to beat her.
As a result, Zahir grew up much closer to his mother than his father. It was hard to be a proper son when his father hated him.
When he was nearly ten, Halef decided to send his son to the palace to the north. Zahir wanted to protest, but his father’s temper was always short when it came to him, so the boy grudgingly accepted his fate, to be exiled with the barbarians.
The night before he was to leave, Zahir’s mother took him aside and imparted a terrible secret that explained ten years of cold indifference at best, at worst blistering anger.
He was not his father’s son. Or rather, his father was not his father.
Zahir’s real father was a man with dancing blue eyes, pearl-white teeth, and thick coal-black hair, a powerful noble who didn’t know of his existence. The boy had pressed his mother for more details, and she reluctantly told him a single name. It was as if she was trying to protect the man, defend his absence, and Zahir could see in her sadness that she missed him, wistfully.
Zahir couldn’t sleep that night, plagued as he was by sadness, anger, and relief. Relief, for Halef’s anger and scorn suddenly made sense. Anger at the secret that had been kept from him for ten years, and likely would have been for longer if he hadn’t been sent off to the palace. Anger at his real father for leaving his mother, for leaving him. Sadness, for now he had no father at all.
As he rode away the next morning, Zahir never looked back at the lonely collection of tents that marked Bloody Hawk territory. He was to be Tortallan now. He was half-Tortallan.
Zahir made a vow to any gods that happened to be listening. He would find his father, this sparkling blue-eyed Jon.
Once he found him, Zahir would decide whether to reveal himself or kill the bastard.
QC: by Cassandra
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 399
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: Zahir hears an unsettling truth before leaving for the palace.
As a child, Zahir often felt stung by his father. He was a kind enough man, a very capable chief of the Bloody Hawk tribe, but there was something in his eyes whenever he looked at his son.
Zahir often caught his father, Halef Seif, watching him when he thought the boy wasn’t looking. Halef had a peculiar expression on his face, and not a happy one. It was searching, resigned, and angry all at the same time, and whenever he’d realize that he had been gazing at his son for an hour, the man roused himself to yell at his mother. At such times, Kara was unusually complacent, though Halef never went so far as to beat her.
As a result, Zahir grew up much closer to his mother than his father. It was hard to be a proper son when his father hated him.
When he was nearly ten, Halef decided to send his son to the palace to the north. Zahir wanted to protest, but his father’s temper was always short when it came to him, so the boy grudgingly accepted his fate, to be exiled with the barbarians.
The night before he was to leave, Zahir’s mother took him aside and imparted a terrible secret that explained ten years of cold indifference at best, at worst blistering anger.
He was not his father’s son. Or rather, his father was not his father.
Zahir’s real father was a man with dancing blue eyes, pearl-white teeth, and thick coal-black hair, a powerful noble who didn’t know of his existence. The boy had pressed his mother for more details, and she reluctantly told him a single name. It was as if she was trying to protect the man, defend his absence, and Zahir could see in her sadness that she missed him, wistfully.
Zahir couldn’t sleep that night, plagued as he was by sadness, anger, and relief. Relief, for Halef’s anger and scorn suddenly made sense. Anger at the secret that had been kept from him for ten years, and likely would have been for longer if he hadn’t been sent off to the palace. Anger at his real father for leaving his mother, for leaving him. Sadness, for now he had no father at all.
As he rode away the next morning, Zahir never looked back at the lonely collection of tents that marked Bloody Hawk territory. He was to be Tortallan now. He was half-Tortallan.
Zahir made a vow to any gods that happened to be listening. He would find his father, this sparkling blue-eyed Jon.
Once he found him, Zahir would decide whether to reveal himself or kill the bastard.
QC: by Cassandra
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!