Post by Elsceetaria on Dec 3, 2011 16:52:44 GMT 10
To: Rachy
Message: I was contemplating all of your wonderful prompts when this idea just took over. I know that it is a rough take on the prompt, but I hope you accept this gift nonetheless. This is only part I. If you will be patient, there will be more.
From: Elscy
Title: Contemplation
Rating: PG-13
Wishlist Item: #3 - Sabine in Training
Summary (and any warnings): Sabine contemplates how she got where she is. MASTIFF SPOILERS!!!!!
Sabine stepped into the chapel. This was it. She considered herself to be halfway through her Ordeal of Knighthood. She had already had the ritual bath, received her instruction, and now she sat shivering wordlessly on the cold stone floor ready to begin her contemplation before she could enter the Chamber of the Ordeal. Closing her eyes, she wasn’t entirely sure where she should start, but she figured the beginning was as good a place as any. Slowly, the room began to fade, and Sabine found that she was no longer sitting on the floor.
A very young Sabine was sitting on the floor her brown hair fell lanky into her face. She was supposed to be playing with a doll, but her father’s sword had been sitting on a table, and it was so shiny. She toddled over to it and clumsily pulled it down. It clanked onto the stone floor. She reached down just to touch it and caught the palm of her right hand on the sharp edge of the blade. Recoiling back from the pain, she began to cry. It was only half a minute, however, before her nurse swept in proclaiming, “Lady Sabine. . .”
Sabine was back sitting on the hard stone of the chapel. Her memory may not have allowed her to hear the entire speech, but that didn’t matter. She knew it by heart. Her nurse had berated her for messing with dangerous things that were not hers. Swords were for men, and she was to be a noble lady. It mattered little to the nurse that the lady in question had been but a curious three-year-old. Over the years, Sabine had played that scene over and over again in her head fearing that she would never be good enough. Sabine, however, knew that this wasn’t true. She had mastered the sword: She had not allowed it to master her.
With that revelation, the scene changed yet again.
This time Sabine was eight, and she was sitting in one of her father’s famous apple trees. She had purloined a history from her father’s library and was reading about the glorious adventures of Lady Aldania of Naxen. The lady knight had lived hundreds of years ago and had traveled the realm slaying monsters and saving damsels in distress. It seemed like the most wonderful existence to young Sabine. Settled there among the branches with that book in hand she was the happiest she had been in a long time. It was almost enough to make her forget the fight she had had the last time her mother had found her in a tree. It wasn’t her fault if embroidery and sewing got boring so quickly. Those were what she was supposed to be doing right now. Looking up at the sun, she calculated she had roughly an hour before her mother would come looking for her and settled back into her story. She had calculated wrongly, however, for only a page later she heard an angry shout, “Lady Sabine of Macayhill what do you think you are doing?”
“Reading,” She had replied.
Her mother was not amused. She had just shaken her head muttering, “What kind of a husband am I going to find for a daughter who would rather ruin her skin and eyes reading in a tree than working on appropriate womanly activities? You wouldn’t be a bad catch if only you’d give up this boyish nonsense.”
Sabine had looked her mother in the eyes though and stated with all seriousness, “I don’t want a husband. I want to be a knight.”
Sabine snapped back into the present. Her legs were beginning to cramp up against the cold floor, but she worried that if she moved she would break her trance. She remembered the vapors her mother had taken to after that statement, but her parents never truly questioned it. The idea was shameful to her mother, but also a bit of a relief. She father had been proud. His little girl was going to serve the throune as so many in the Macayhill line had before her.
Sabine thought back on her language, but se wasn’t sure if she still agreed with her eight-year-old self. She knew that she wanted to be a knight. There had been so many opportunities to have turned back along the way, but she had held fast to that part of her proclamation. With that, Sabine found herself drifting back again.
Sabine was ten years old now, and she stood with the other new pages at the main palace in Corus. She was taller than most of her peers and had her haired in a single plait down her back. It ended where older women would wear their breast bands. It was right there where she felt a tug. Turning around, she saw that the offender had been a boy who despite being a year older was still a good two inches shorter than her. She stood herself up as tall as possible, and smiled at the boy, “Did you have something to say to me?”
“You should go home, Lady Sabine. Girls aren’t meant to be knights,” The boy remarked.
Sabine tilted her head a little and replied, “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, I would,” The boy retorted using the logic that same most naturally to entitled ten-year boys. This made Sabine mad, and she pushed him into the mud.
Back in the chapel, Sabine thought about that moment at the very beginning of her training. She had ended up mucking the stables for a months, but she had considered it worth every hour. Girls weren’t as common as boys in page training of course, but they weren’t unheard of either. There were two girls two years ahead of her, and one the year behind her. They worked just as hard as the boys if not harder and tended to receive less praise along the way. Of course, once they were knights they were all technically equal, but some boys never did want to fully accept the girls. It wasn’t the last time she was teased, but each time she had dealt with it. The punishments helped her build muscles and develop character. If a boy was to pull her braid, then she would just have to pin her hair up. It wasn’t that hard.
Relaxing into the meditation, Sabine found herself in the stables. She had always been especially good with horses. Some might even have called her skill magic, but it wasn’t like The Gift or anything. It was relaxing. Often times, she felt like she got along with the horses better than her fellow pages. She never really minded punishment that involved being around the horses, and her Drummer was such a dream. Other people seemed to think he was a bit of a terror, but they just didn’t know how to talk to him.
As the scene settled into place, she realized exactly when she was at. She was twelve, and she had been given stable duty because she had once again fallen down and gotten a black eye. When she had gotten to the stable, she had seen a young boy in chains helping what was clearly a warhorse, though not one she recognized. It must have been the horse of some random knight who had just come to court. The boy was tiny. He didn’t look any more than seven or eight, yet the horse was doing everything he wanted it to without any the fuss and drama. He was as good with horses as she or her brother.
As she came to the realization of what was truly happening in the stable, Sabine was back in the chapel. It wasn’t fair. She or the other members could get rich off their skill with horses. Even if Roger stripped her of her nobility and accused her of treason, she could take that skill to another place. As long as she had her life, she would not want for anything, yet for that boy things were different. Since he was a slave, someone else would be the one to get rich off his abilities. Even if his owner never pawned him off to others, he would save more money than most citizens of Tortall would see in a lifetime keeping peace in his own stables. Sabine recognized that slavery was legal, but she knew that it would never be truly right. She may never know that boy’s name, but he had forever changed her life.
Message: I was contemplating all of your wonderful prompts when this idea just took over. I know that it is a rough take on the prompt, but I hope you accept this gift nonetheless. This is only part I. If you will be patient, there will be more.
From: Elscy
Title: Contemplation
Rating: PG-13
Wishlist Item: #3 - Sabine in Training
Summary (and any warnings): Sabine contemplates how she got where she is. MASTIFF SPOILERS!!!!!
Sabine stepped into the chapel. This was it. She considered herself to be halfway through her Ordeal of Knighthood. She had already had the ritual bath, received her instruction, and now she sat shivering wordlessly on the cold stone floor ready to begin her contemplation before she could enter the Chamber of the Ordeal. Closing her eyes, she wasn’t entirely sure where she should start, but she figured the beginning was as good a place as any. Slowly, the room began to fade, and Sabine found that she was no longer sitting on the floor.
A very young Sabine was sitting on the floor her brown hair fell lanky into her face. She was supposed to be playing with a doll, but her father’s sword had been sitting on a table, and it was so shiny. She toddled over to it and clumsily pulled it down. It clanked onto the stone floor. She reached down just to touch it and caught the palm of her right hand on the sharp edge of the blade. Recoiling back from the pain, she began to cry. It was only half a minute, however, before her nurse swept in proclaiming, “Lady Sabine. . .”
Sabine was back sitting on the hard stone of the chapel. Her memory may not have allowed her to hear the entire speech, but that didn’t matter. She knew it by heart. Her nurse had berated her for messing with dangerous things that were not hers. Swords were for men, and she was to be a noble lady. It mattered little to the nurse that the lady in question had been but a curious three-year-old. Over the years, Sabine had played that scene over and over again in her head fearing that she would never be good enough. Sabine, however, knew that this wasn’t true. She had mastered the sword: She had not allowed it to master her.
With that revelation, the scene changed yet again.
This time Sabine was eight, and she was sitting in one of her father’s famous apple trees. She had purloined a history from her father’s library and was reading about the glorious adventures of Lady Aldania of Naxen. The lady knight had lived hundreds of years ago and had traveled the realm slaying monsters and saving damsels in distress. It seemed like the most wonderful existence to young Sabine. Settled there among the branches with that book in hand she was the happiest she had been in a long time. It was almost enough to make her forget the fight she had had the last time her mother had found her in a tree. It wasn’t her fault if embroidery and sewing got boring so quickly. Those were what she was supposed to be doing right now. Looking up at the sun, she calculated she had roughly an hour before her mother would come looking for her and settled back into her story. She had calculated wrongly, however, for only a page later she heard an angry shout, “Lady Sabine of Macayhill what do you think you are doing?”
“Reading,” She had replied.
Her mother was not amused. She had just shaken her head muttering, “What kind of a husband am I going to find for a daughter who would rather ruin her skin and eyes reading in a tree than working on appropriate womanly activities? You wouldn’t be a bad catch if only you’d give up this boyish nonsense.”
Sabine had looked her mother in the eyes though and stated with all seriousness, “I don’t want a husband. I want to be a knight.”
Sabine snapped back into the present. Her legs were beginning to cramp up against the cold floor, but she worried that if she moved she would break her trance. She remembered the vapors her mother had taken to after that statement, but her parents never truly questioned it. The idea was shameful to her mother, but also a bit of a relief. She father had been proud. His little girl was going to serve the throune as so many in the Macayhill line had before her.
Sabine thought back on her language, but se wasn’t sure if she still agreed with her eight-year-old self. She knew that she wanted to be a knight. There had been so many opportunities to have turned back along the way, but she had held fast to that part of her proclamation. With that, Sabine found herself drifting back again.
Sabine was ten years old now, and she stood with the other new pages at the main palace in Corus. She was taller than most of her peers and had her haired in a single plait down her back. It ended where older women would wear their breast bands. It was right there where she felt a tug. Turning around, she saw that the offender had been a boy who despite being a year older was still a good two inches shorter than her. She stood herself up as tall as possible, and smiled at the boy, “Did you have something to say to me?”
“You should go home, Lady Sabine. Girls aren’t meant to be knights,” The boy remarked.
Sabine tilted her head a little and replied, “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, I would,” The boy retorted using the logic that same most naturally to entitled ten-year boys. This made Sabine mad, and she pushed him into the mud.
Back in the chapel, Sabine thought about that moment at the very beginning of her training. She had ended up mucking the stables for a months, but she had considered it worth every hour. Girls weren’t as common as boys in page training of course, but they weren’t unheard of either. There were two girls two years ahead of her, and one the year behind her. They worked just as hard as the boys if not harder and tended to receive less praise along the way. Of course, once they were knights they were all technically equal, but some boys never did want to fully accept the girls. It wasn’t the last time she was teased, but each time she had dealt with it. The punishments helped her build muscles and develop character. If a boy was to pull her braid, then she would just have to pin her hair up. It wasn’t that hard.
Relaxing into the meditation, Sabine found herself in the stables. She had always been especially good with horses. Some might even have called her skill magic, but it wasn’t like The Gift or anything. It was relaxing. Often times, she felt like she got along with the horses better than her fellow pages. She never really minded punishment that involved being around the horses, and her Drummer was such a dream. Other people seemed to think he was a bit of a terror, but they just didn’t know how to talk to him.
As the scene settled into place, she realized exactly when she was at. She was twelve, and she had been given stable duty because she had once again fallen down and gotten a black eye. When she had gotten to the stable, she had seen a young boy in chains helping what was clearly a warhorse, though not one she recognized. It must have been the horse of some random knight who had just come to court. The boy was tiny. He didn’t look any more than seven or eight, yet the horse was doing everything he wanted it to without any the fuss and drama. He was as good with horses as she or her brother.
As she came to the realization of what was truly happening in the stable, Sabine was back in the chapel. It wasn’t fair. She or the other members could get rich off their skill with horses. Even if Roger stripped her of her nobility and accused her of treason, she could take that skill to another place. As long as she had her life, she would not want for anything, yet for that boy things were different. Since he was a slave, someone else would be the one to get rich off his abilities. Even if his owner never pawned him off to others, he would save more money than most citizens of Tortall would see in a lifetime keeping peace in his own stables. Sabine recognized that slavery was legal, but she knew that it would never be truly right. She may never know that boy’s name, but he had forever changed her life.