Post by Seek on Mar 9, 2011 20:29:27 GMT 10
Title: Chess
Rating: PG
Word Count: 470 words
Pairing: Jon/Zahir - Team Bend-A-Lot
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: Chess: a knight for a king is a reasonable sacrifice. As a father, Jon isn’t too sure about that. A possible reality and an AU moment in King and Squire.
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“Thank you for telling me,” Alhaz ibn Shahir finally says. The lines around his thick eyebrows deepen.
“We executed his killer,” Jonathan tells him. The bright gleam at the back of Alhaz’s eye dims. Jonathan knows the headman as well as the back of his own right hand, and he knows that the thought of vengeance has just been swiftly – perhaps even mercilessly – removed from Alhaz’s mind.
In a way, it is cruel. In a way, it is necessary. Jonathan knows only too well the gut-deep fear of being a father, when he watches the small figures with dark hair and Thayet’s hazel eyes (and Roald with Conte blue) head to bed each night. This is life, so small and so fragile, and contrary to all their instincts, they must, as fathers, give their children to the realm.
He is a father, and in a way, Zahir was his son, and not just the son of Alhaz. He has nurtured the boy, asked Alhaz to send him to the palace for training as a knight, taken the boy under his wing as his squire, taught him, watched him receive his shield, bursting with the same pride he felt when Roald received his own shield.
He had pinned his hopes on Zahir, prepared him for what was to come, but none of them had foreseen the danger, or seen what would have happened. It is given to the Voice to see his moment of passing. It should have been Zahir. Jon should have died then. It is not the way of the Bazhir Voice to fight what-is-meant-to-be, and what must happen. That calm acceptance of his fate, Jon thinks, is perhaps a maturity that comes with age. He could never have done that, two decades ago. He chokes back the tears that threaten to come with stern practice. The king cannot weep. The Voice cannot weep, not here. Not now.
But perhaps he had taught Zahir too well, or Zahir had learned their ways too well. There was no acceptance in his former squire’s eyes then, except proud defiance and acceptance of his death. Kill the king – this is the name of their game. Except that there was a second game, a larger game of chess that Zahir hadn’t known, because Jon had never thought to tell him.
There must be a Voice of the Tribes. It was not a sacrifice, a knight for a king. It was a king for a king, and Jon had left things too late.
Stubborn to the end, his former squire fought off the assassins, striking them down and falling to the arrow that went straight through his eye. A lucky shot, for the killer.
Men plan. The gods laugh.
Sacrifice is part of chess. And no matter what transpires, the greater game goes on.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: PG
Word Count: 470 words
Pairing: Jon/Zahir - Team Bend-A-Lot
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: Chess: a knight for a king is a reasonable sacrifice. As a father, Jon isn’t too sure about that. A possible reality and an AU moment in King and Squire.
-
“Thank you for telling me,” Alhaz ibn Shahir finally says. The lines around his thick eyebrows deepen.
“We executed his killer,” Jonathan tells him. The bright gleam at the back of Alhaz’s eye dims. Jonathan knows the headman as well as the back of his own right hand, and he knows that the thought of vengeance has just been swiftly – perhaps even mercilessly – removed from Alhaz’s mind.
In a way, it is cruel. In a way, it is necessary. Jonathan knows only too well the gut-deep fear of being a father, when he watches the small figures with dark hair and Thayet’s hazel eyes (and Roald with Conte blue) head to bed each night. This is life, so small and so fragile, and contrary to all their instincts, they must, as fathers, give their children to the realm.
He is a father, and in a way, Zahir was his son, and not just the son of Alhaz. He has nurtured the boy, asked Alhaz to send him to the palace for training as a knight, taken the boy under his wing as his squire, taught him, watched him receive his shield, bursting with the same pride he felt when Roald received his own shield.
He had pinned his hopes on Zahir, prepared him for what was to come, but none of them had foreseen the danger, or seen what would have happened. It is given to the Voice to see his moment of passing. It should have been Zahir. Jon should have died then. It is not the way of the Bazhir Voice to fight what-is-meant-to-be, and what must happen. That calm acceptance of his fate, Jon thinks, is perhaps a maturity that comes with age. He could never have done that, two decades ago. He chokes back the tears that threaten to come with stern practice. The king cannot weep. The Voice cannot weep, not here. Not now.
But perhaps he had taught Zahir too well, or Zahir had learned their ways too well. There was no acceptance in his former squire’s eyes then, except proud defiance and acceptance of his death. Kill the king – this is the name of their game. Except that there was a second game, a larger game of chess that Zahir hadn’t known, because Jon had never thought to tell him.
There must be a Voice of the Tribes. It was not a sacrifice, a knight for a king. It was a king for a king, and Jon had left things too late.
Stubborn to the end, his former squire fought off the assassins, striking them down and falling to the arrow that went straight through his eye. A lucky shot, for the killer.
Men plan. The gods laugh.
Sacrifice is part of chess. And no matter what transpires, the greater game goes on.
QC by: journeycat