Post by indifferentred on May 11, 2012 7:35:05 GMT 10
Series: Quiet Affections
Title: Nothing
Rating: PG-13
Event: Drama Discus
Words: 712
Summary: I'd just like to apologise in advance for what I've done to Wyldon and Vivenne here. Angst ahoy
She enters his study quietly, dressed now, and shuts the door behind her. Her face is solemn, and he catches the gleam of tearful regret in her eyes. She is still beautiful - dark hair curling around her pale cheeks, her figure still retaining the slight alluring plumpness that she never lost after Margarry’s birth five years ago. His jaw clenches. Now is no time for pity. Her voice is barely audible when she speaks. “I expect you shall wish to dissolve our marriage.” There is no fear there, no pleading, just a blunt statement of fact. She knows him too well. Indeed, he has sat here for an hour and more, debating just that question. And yet, he has winced away from a dissolution. He rises and turns away from her, staring blindly out of his window. He imagines that the flowers in the royal gardens below look beautiful in the sun, but all he can see is Vivenne’s shocked pale face staring at him over another man’s bare shoulder.
“And have my honour and that of my house set as a feast before the court gossips? I thank you, no,” he replies frostily; faultlessly polite, as always, even when his wife (his Vivenne, whom he thought he knew so well!) has set aside her wedding vows. There is no need to admit to Vivenne that he cannot face the prospect of losing her, even if she is no longer his in heart. He hears the rustle of silks, and the faint gasp of relieved breath as Vivenne sinks into a chair behind him. “My lord - ” She has never called him that. Is it shame or guile that forces the words from her now? Either way, they disgust him, and he slams his hand down on the wooden window-ledge. He is filled with venom and his eyes blaze. Suddenly, he wants to hurt her, as he has never wished to hurt an enemy on the battlefield. “I do this not for you, but for our daughters!” Proud Eiralys, laughing Sunarine, dreamy Cathrea, and his little Margarry, sweet and wilful by turns. “They at least shall be spared the knowledge that their mother is a whore.” Her grey eyes flutter briefly closed in distress, but her lips are clamped painfully together to prevent speech. It is the first time in their marriage that she has not argued with him.
Reseating himself at his desk, he returns to his paperwork, hand shaking as he clutches his quill too tightly. Brusquely, he tells her, “I have already written ahead to Cavall - you will leave on the morrow.” She bows her head in submission. This is what happens to wayward wives who transgress in unmentionable ways.
“As you wish.” She pushes herself up from her chair, unsteady on her feet, and turns to the door. Palm resting on the handle, she pauses. She barely dares to ask. “What of - ?”
He anticipates her. “Your lover?” Again, the images swim in front of his eyes. Pushing Vivenne from the room, half-clad and pleading with him. The sound of her crying - his name, her lover’s name… Turning to the worm she has seen fit to take to her bed, and dragging him away too. The clash of swords. His unpracticed opponent’s gasping breath. “I yield! For Mithros’ sake, Cavall - I yield!”
He grits his teeth. “I have dealt with him.” He will live, but he wishes to know what Vivenne thinks. How much she cares for him. At his words, she whirls around, what little colour there had been in her face draining away before his eyes. “He saved your life!” she whispers tearfully. He wonders if that was when it all started - the shared vigils over his bed as he recovered from his wounds, the weekly visits for months afterwards… He forces himself to adopt that tone of supreme boredom he has cultivated for dealing with progressives and time wasters. “I wonder that he bothered.”
Vivenne does not reply. Her shoulders sag and she pulls the door open. “Vivenne.” He is quieter now, subdued and weary. “What have I ever done to you, that you would treat me with such contempt?”
Her tears are already falling, and the single word comes thickly to his ears. “Nothing.”
A/N: Again, I'm so sorry! Fluff will resume shortly!
Title: Nothing
Rating: PG-13
Event: Drama Discus
Words: 712
Summary: I'd just like to apologise in advance for what I've done to Wyldon and Vivenne here. Angst ahoy
She enters his study quietly, dressed now, and shuts the door behind her. Her face is solemn, and he catches the gleam of tearful regret in her eyes. She is still beautiful - dark hair curling around her pale cheeks, her figure still retaining the slight alluring plumpness that she never lost after Margarry’s birth five years ago. His jaw clenches. Now is no time for pity. Her voice is barely audible when she speaks. “I expect you shall wish to dissolve our marriage.” There is no fear there, no pleading, just a blunt statement of fact. She knows him too well. Indeed, he has sat here for an hour and more, debating just that question. And yet, he has winced away from a dissolution. He rises and turns away from her, staring blindly out of his window. He imagines that the flowers in the royal gardens below look beautiful in the sun, but all he can see is Vivenne’s shocked pale face staring at him over another man’s bare shoulder.
“And have my honour and that of my house set as a feast before the court gossips? I thank you, no,” he replies frostily; faultlessly polite, as always, even when his wife (his Vivenne, whom he thought he knew so well!) has set aside her wedding vows. There is no need to admit to Vivenne that he cannot face the prospect of losing her, even if she is no longer his in heart. He hears the rustle of silks, and the faint gasp of relieved breath as Vivenne sinks into a chair behind him. “My lord - ” She has never called him that. Is it shame or guile that forces the words from her now? Either way, they disgust him, and he slams his hand down on the wooden window-ledge. He is filled with venom and his eyes blaze. Suddenly, he wants to hurt her, as he has never wished to hurt an enemy on the battlefield. “I do this not for you, but for our daughters!” Proud Eiralys, laughing Sunarine, dreamy Cathrea, and his little Margarry, sweet and wilful by turns. “They at least shall be spared the knowledge that their mother is a whore.” Her grey eyes flutter briefly closed in distress, but her lips are clamped painfully together to prevent speech. It is the first time in their marriage that she has not argued with him.
Reseating himself at his desk, he returns to his paperwork, hand shaking as he clutches his quill too tightly. Brusquely, he tells her, “I have already written ahead to Cavall - you will leave on the morrow.” She bows her head in submission. This is what happens to wayward wives who transgress in unmentionable ways.
“As you wish.” She pushes herself up from her chair, unsteady on her feet, and turns to the door. Palm resting on the handle, she pauses. She barely dares to ask. “What of - ?”
He anticipates her. “Your lover?” Again, the images swim in front of his eyes. Pushing Vivenne from the room, half-clad and pleading with him. The sound of her crying - his name, her lover’s name… Turning to the worm she has seen fit to take to her bed, and dragging him away too. The clash of swords. His unpracticed opponent’s gasping breath. “I yield! For Mithros’ sake, Cavall - I yield!”
He grits his teeth. “I have dealt with him.” He will live, but he wishes to know what Vivenne thinks. How much she cares for him. At his words, she whirls around, what little colour there had been in her face draining away before his eyes. “He saved your life!” she whispers tearfully. He wonders if that was when it all started - the shared vigils over his bed as he recovered from his wounds, the weekly visits for months afterwards… He forces himself to adopt that tone of supreme boredom he has cultivated for dealing with progressives and time wasters. “I wonder that he bothered.”
Vivenne does not reply. Her shoulders sag and she pulls the door open. “Vivenne.” He is quieter now, subdued and weary. “What have I ever done to you, that you would treat me with such contempt?”
Her tears are already falling, and the single word comes thickly to his ears. “Nothing.”
A/N: Again, I'm so sorry! Fluff will resume shortly!
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!