Post by luinae on Mar 12, 2011 11:35:22 GMT 10
Title: Memorial
Rating: R
Word Count: 697
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: Zahir hasn't healed, not really. Part of a mini-series. Character death. Part of journeycat's "Last Conte" universe.
The bright daylight seems out of place, along with the flowers, and the people laughing and smiling, Zahir decides. He tries to plaster what he hopes is a smile on his face, but is sure he is failing miserably.
He can still hear the screams; smell the blood; see the bodies of people he had always assumed would be there, crumpling to the ground, never to wake up. Zahir wants to hit whoever had suggested this memorial service- for Lianokami on the anniversary of her first year being queen.
It had been ten years since Tusaine had invaded, but it still felt like yesterday. No time to heal, Zahir thought bitterly. No time at all.
Laila walks over to him, smiling shyly. “How are you, Zahir?” But Zahir is too busy trying to look at her face and not remember it covered in shockingly red blood as her rider group tried to defend the palace.
“I’m fine,” he says, completely aware of how hollow his words sound. “Fine.”
“You miss him, don’t you?” says Laila. “The king.”
“I miss him,” Zahir says, almost relieved to finally tell someone. “I miss when he was king and I was his squire and Tortall just was, not something we had to lose everything for. I just miss Jon.”
Laila starts to say something, but she’s interrupted by Wyldon, who is proudly showing his now nine year old grandson to everyone in the near vicinity.
“He’s starting page training in the fall,” Wyldon says proudly. “Just like his father.” (And Zahir doesn’t want to think about the boy’s parents, because all he can hear are the screams of Margarry when they tortured her and the cruel smile on Owen’s face as they hung him from a balcony)
It’s odd to see Paxton of Nond, an old conservative, deep in conversation with Keladry of Mindelan, and Numair in an animated discussion with Garvey. Progressive. Conservative. Those labels don’t matter anymore (and it’s difficult to think of a time when they did, because those happy memories hurt), not when they’ve fought together, not when it’s their country to rebuild.
“It’s good for all of us to be here, reunited,” Wyldon adds.
“Not all of us,” Zahir says darkly, and all the face’s of those dead swim before his eyes.
Everyone around him winces, and as Zahir looks at them he can see why. Everyone here has lost someone.
Keladry’s entire family is gone. Queenscove is missing his sister and father. (And as much as Zahir spent most of his page-hood wishing the man would shut up he didn’t want it to be because someone murdered his family.) Numair’s wife Daine is gone, and so is the Lioness’s youngest son. And every time Zahir looks at Raoul he just sees him trying to pull all the arrows out of his wife’s dead body.
Lianokami walks among them, young, but a Conte Queen nonetheless. She talks to everyone, and she knows, she knows the price for her victory, the price for freedom. And she says to everyone, again and again, “freedom that isn’t worth dying for isn’t really freedom.”
Zahir blinks back tears, forgetting that Laila is beside him until she squeezes his hand.
And when Liano stands up to make a speech, Zahir is moved, just by the fact that she is a Conte. It’s short, but it’s enough.
“Thank you,” she says. Zahir can hear her grandfather’s voice in there; see his quick flash of a smile. “For your sacrifice. It will not be forgotten. And we will live for those who died.”
Zahir can see the ghosts of Jon in her, and for the first time, it makes him happy. The Conte’s will live on.
He grabs Laila’s hand and pulls her over to the crowd of people clustering around Kel and Merric’s first child.
Zahir looks at Laila, who is smiling at him through her own tears, ones that mirror his own. Life goes on, Zahir decides, watching the young queen. And we rise from the ashes to begin again.
If Jon were here, Zahir rather thought that his king would agree.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: R
Word Count: 697
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: Zahir hasn't healed, not really. Part of a mini-series. Character death. Part of journeycat's "Last Conte" universe.
The bright daylight seems out of place, along with the flowers, and the people laughing and smiling, Zahir decides. He tries to plaster what he hopes is a smile on his face, but is sure he is failing miserably.
He can still hear the screams; smell the blood; see the bodies of people he had always assumed would be there, crumpling to the ground, never to wake up. Zahir wants to hit whoever had suggested this memorial service- for Lianokami on the anniversary of her first year being queen.
It had been ten years since Tusaine had invaded, but it still felt like yesterday. No time to heal, Zahir thought bitterly. No time at all.
Laila walks over to him, smiling shyly. “How are you, Zahir?” But Zahir is too busy trying to look at her face and not remember it covered in shockingly red blood as her rider group tried to defend the palace.
“I’m fine,” he says, completely aware of how hollow his words sound. “Fine.”
“You miss him, don’t you?” says Laila. “The king.”
“I miss him,” Zahir says, almost relieved to finally tell someone. “I miss when he was king and I was his squire and Tortall just was, not something we had to lose everything for. I just miss Jon.”
Laila starts to say something, but she’s interrupted by Wyldon, who is proudly showing his now nine year old grandson to everyone in the near vicinity.
“He’s starting page training in the fall,” Wyldon says proudly. “Just like his father.” (And Zahir doesn’t want to think about the boy’s parents, because all he can hear are the screams of Margarry when they tortured her and the cruel smile on Owen’s face as they hung him from a balcony)
It’s odd to see Paxton of Nond, an old conservative, deep in conversation with Keladry of Mindelan, and Numair in an animated discussion with Garvey. Progressive. Conservative. Those labels don’t matter anymore (and it’s difficult to think of a time when they did, because those happy memories hurt), not when they’ve fought together, not when it’s their country to rebuild.
“It’s good for all of us to be here, reunited,” Wyldon adds.
“Not all of us,” Zahir says darkly, and all the face’s of those dead swim before his eyes.
Everyone around him winces, and as Zahir looks at them he can see why. Everyone here has lost someone.
Keladry’s entire family is gone. Queenscove is missing his sister and father. (And as much as Zahir spent most of his page-hood wishing the man would shut up he didn’t want it to be because someone murdered his family.) Numair’s wife Daine is gone, and so is the Lioness’s youngest son. And every time Zahir looks at Raoul he just sees him trying to pull all the arrows out of his wife’s dead body.
Lianokami walks among them, young, but a Conte Queen nonetheless. She talks to everyone, and she knows, she knows the price for her victory, the price for freedom. And she says to everyone, again and again, “freedom that isn’t worth dying for isn’t really freedom.”
Zahir blinks back tears, forgetting that Laila is beside him until she squeezes his hand.
And when Liano stands up to make a speech, Zahir is moved, just by the fact that she is a Conte. It’s short, but it’s enough.
“Thank you,” she says. Zahir can hear her grandfather’s voice in there; see his quick flash of a smile. “For your sacrifice. It will not be forgotten. And we will live for those who died.”
Zahir can see the ghosts of Jon in her, and for the first time, it makes him happy. The Conte’s will live on.
He grabs Laila’s hand and pulls her over to the crowd of people clustering around Kel and Merric’s first child.
Zahir looks at Laila, who is smiling at him through her own tears, ones that mirror his own. Life goes on, Zahir decides, watching the young queen. And we rise from the ashes to begin again.
If Jon were here, Zahir rather thought that his king would agree.
QC by: journeycat