Post by Alliecat on Jan 10, 2012 9:47:10 GMT 10
Title: Announcement Apprehensions
Rating: G
Prompt: #59 – King for a day
Summary: Everyone wants to walk beside King Jonathan.
“Do you think he’ll announce it today?” Neal asked, a forkful of peas halfway to his mouth.
“Who announce what?” Kel said, looking at the other nearby pages for a reference to Neal’s query. She frowned when three of Neal’s peas tumbled to the table, then murmured her disgust when he scooped up and dropped them into his mouth.
Neal shrugged, acknowledging her expression, and swallowed. “Lord Wyldon. Will he announce the winners of King for a Day?” Open to pages of all years, King for a Day, the most anticipated annual competition, was scheduled for Monday. Each year, all pages submitted an application detailing their interest and qualifications and participated in a physical test of their readiness. It was a rather new tradition, instituted by King Jonathan along with the other additions to the training process. To win was not only an honor, but also an experience.
“Maybe,” Kel said, shrugging. “I guess it’s getting close.”
Neal, who was quickly collecting more fallen peas before Kel could notice, stared at her. “You don’t sound excited,” he said. If he hadn’t been so focused on hiding the evidence of his clumsiness, his tone could have been described as curious. (For right now it was rather hurried, as Kel seemed suspicious of the plopping noises echoing under the table. The peas, it seemed, were rolling too fast for Neal to catch them all.) “You applied, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course I applied. I’m perfectly excited,” Kel defended. “I simply don’t see the reason for obsessing.” The boys looked at her curiously. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m just tired.” Though honestly, Kel was dreading the announcement. A day with King Jonathan repulsed her, even with the honors it held. (Her pride made her apply, for Kel could never so blatantly toss away the opportunity to succeed.)
“What do you figure your chances are?” Merric asked.
“I’ll never win,” Neal murmured.
“Don’t be so down,” Kel scolded. “You have no reason to be so negative. But I know I’m not going to win,” Neal scoffed here, “because Lord Wyldon would never let the Girl win.”
“It’s not just Lord Wyldon who decides,” Faleron reminded her.
Kel waved his comment off. “No one would let me win. And besides,” she said, blushing slightly as she realized the contradiction she was about to make, “I wouldn’t win even if I was a boy.”
“I don’t think any pages reckon they’ll win,” Faleron said. “Remember last year? Cleon looked like confusion magic had been worked on him when he took to the stage.”
“He had good reason to be,” Neal commented.
Kel kicked him. “Be nice.”
“Oh come on,” he said. “Tell me you weren’t stunned.”
Kel shifted her legs. “Okay, maybe a little.” She paused, disheartened in her own gossiping. “He’s not a bad page!”
“No,” Merric added. “But he certainly isn’t the top.”
“His application must’ve been very good,” Kel said, trying to sidle away from the conversation. (Neal, who had a history of excellently ignoring subtleties, proved his ability here.) “We should ask Cleon what he wrote!” Neal said with the exuberance of a breakthrough. “Then maybe next year we’ll have a shot.”
“I’m glad he won,” Faleron commented. “He was always talking about how ‘romantic’ being king would be.” He chuckled. “Well, after seeing how many boring meetings and piles of paperwork His Majesty encounters he changed his opinion.”
Merric laughed. “Still, yesterday I saw Cleon lusting after one of the king’s tunics,” he said.
Faleron shrugged. “That’s Cleon. He’ll never change.” The boys jeered, recalling the boy’s more ridiculous moments. Kel panned the room, checking that Cleon was a decent distance away. Turning back, she shushed them and pointed at Wyldon, who was walking towards the podium with two official-looking men behind him.
“This is it!” Merric whispered. “Nervous?” They all shook their heads for, as discussed before, none expected any news from the announcement.
“Squires, pages,” Lord Wyldon began. He paused longer than he normally would have, and together with the visible shuddering in his throat, Neal figured that he was resisting the urge to cough. (As a testament to his will, he succeeded.) “Today we begin the celebration of excellence with the annual King for a Day.” In the usual pattern, Lord Wyldon began to drone on about honor and dedication while Neal effectively stopped listening. He glanced at Kel, wondering how anyone could heed such attention to a man’s intellectual whims, even if they were connected to something as exciting as King for a Day.
Wyldon coughed; Neal smiled. (Even the hardest of men had to cave to nature.) “And so, with my greatest pleasure,” Neal refocused here, as it sounded as if something important was about to be said, “I announce that this year’s honoree is Zahir ibn Alhaz!” There was a smattering applause, emitted mainly from squires and staff, not from the disappointed pages, as Zahir approached the podium.
“I tell you, it’s all in the application,” Merric whispered, leaning towards Neal. Neal clapped him on the back. “Next year,” he replied.
“Oh no,” Faleron said. “Next year is mine. I’m going to leave pagehood in a swirl of glory.”
“There’s not much glory before knighthood,” Merric said grimly.
A hush began to spread through the auditorium. Neal looked back at Lord Wyldon, who had sent Zahir with the two men and was now standing alone for the usual daily announcements. (He looked particularly austere, probably because he disapproved of Zahir losing a day of Wyldon’s instruction for King for a Day. “No glory,” Neal said with a snort, “Just loads and loads of fun.”
Rating: G
Prompt: #59 – King for a day
Summary: Everyone wants to walk beside King Jonathan.
“Do you think he’ll announce it today?” Neal asked, a forkful of peas halfway to his mouth.
“Who announce what?” Kel said, looking at the other nearby pages for a reference to Neal’s query. She frowned when three of Neal’s peas tumbled to the table, then murmured her disgust when he scooped up and dropped them into his mouth.
Neal shrugged, acknowledging her expression, and swallowed. “Lord Wyldon. Will he announce the winners of King for a Day?” Open to pages of all years, King for a Day, the most anticipated annual competition, was scheduled for Monday. Each year, all pages submitted an application detailing their interest and qualifications and participated in a physical test of their readiness. It was a rather new tradition, instituted by King Jonathan along with the other additions to the training process. To win was not only an honor, but also an experience.
“Maybe,” Kel said, shrugging. “I guess it’s getting close.”
Neal, who was quickly collecting more fallen peas before Kel could notice, stared at her. “You don’t sound excited,” he said. If he hadn’t been so focused on hiding the evidence of his clumsiness, his tone could have been described as curious. (For right now it was rather hurried, as Kel seemed suspicious of the plopping noises echoing under the table. The peas, it seemed, were rolling too fast for Neal to catch them all.) “You applied, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course I applied. I’m perfectly excited,” Kel defended. “I simply don’t see the reason for obsessing.” The boys looked at her curiously. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m just tired.” Though honestly, Kel was dreading the announcement. A day with King Jonathan repulsed her, even with the honors it held. (Her pride made her apply, for Kel could never so blatantly toss away the opportunity to succeed.)
“What do you figure your chances are?” Merric asked.
“I’ll never win,” Neal murmured.
“Don’t be so down,” Kel scolded. “You have no reason to be so negative. But I know I’m not going to win,” Neal scoffed here, “because Lord Wyldon would never let the Girl win.”
“It’s not just Lord Wyldon who decides,” Faleron reminded her.
Kel waved his comment off. “No one would let me win. And besides,” she said, blushing slightly as she realized the contradiction she was about to make, “I wouldn’t win even if I was a boy.”
“I don’t think any pages reckon they’ll win,” Faleron said. “Remember last year? Cleon looked like confusion magic had been worked on him when he took to the stage.”
“He had good reason to be,” Neal commented.
Kel kicked him. “Be nice.”
“Oh come on,” he said. “Tell me you weren’t stunned.”
Kel shifted her legs. “Okay, maybe a little.” She paused, disheartened in her own gossiping. “He’s not a bad page!”
“No,” Merric added. “But he certainly isn’t the top.”
“His application must’ve been very good,” Kel said, trying to sidle away from the conversation. (Neal, who had a history of excellently ignoring subtleties, proved his ability here.) “We should ask Cleon what he wrote!” Neal said with the exuberance of a breakthrough. “Then maybe next year we’ll have a shot.”
“I’m glad he won,” Faleron commented. “He was always talking about how ‘romantic’ being king would be.” He chuckled. “Well, after seeing how many boring meetings and piles of paperwork His Majesty encounters he changed his opinion.”
Merric laughed. “Still, yesterday I saw Cleon lusting after one of the king’s tunics,” he said.
Faleron shrugged. “That’s Cleon. He’ll never change.” The boys jeered, recalling the boy’s more ridiculous moments. Kel panned the room, checking that Cleon was a decent distance away. Turning back, she shushed them and pointed at Wyldon, who was walking towards the podium with two official-looking men behind him.
“This is it!” Merric whispered. “Nervous?” They all shook their heads for, as discussed before, none expected any news from the announcement.
“Squires, pages,” Lord Wyldon began. He paused longer than he normally would have, and together with the visible shuddering in his throat, Neal figured that he was resisting the urge to cough. (As a testament to his will, he succeeded.) “Today we begin the celebration of excellence with the annual King for a Day.” In the usual pattern, Lord Wyldon began to drone on about honor and dedication while Neal effectively stopped listening. He glanced at Kel, wondering how anyone could heed such attention to a man’s intellectual whims, even if they were connected to something as exciting as King for a Day.
Wyldon coughed; Neal smiled. (Even the hardest of men had to cave to nature.) “And so, with my greatest pleasure,” Neal refocused here, as it sounded as if something important was about to be said, “I announce that this year’s honoree is Zahir ibn Alhaz!” There was a smattering applause, emitted mainly from squires and staff, not from the disappointed pages, as Zahir approached the podium.
“I tell you, it’s all in the application,” Merric whispered, leaning towards Neal. Neal clapped him on the back. “Next year,” he replied.
“Oh no,” Faleron said. “Next year is mine. I’m going to leave pagehood in a swirl of glory.”
“There’s not much glory before knighthood,” Merric said grimly.
A hush began to spread through the auditorium. Neal looked back at Lord Wyldon, who had sent Zahir with the two men and was now standing alone for the usual daily announcements. (He looked particularly austere, probably because he disapproved of Zahir losing a day of Wyldon’s instruction for King for a Day. “No glory,” Neal said with a snort, “Just loads and loads of fun.”
Trust him to be so overly concerned about it.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!