Post by Rachy on Jan 5, 2013 21:58:01 GMT 10
To: Griff
Message: As it’s the 11th day of Christmas (I think) this is an 11th hour posting, so I hope you had a happy holiday season! I am so very incredibly sorry about the delays in posting this, and even though it’s really really late, I hope you do still enjoy it. ♥
From: Rachy
Title: A King’s Choices and A King’s Regrets
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1294
Prompt: #1: Jon/George, part of their relationship as young men.
Summary: Jon and George discuss the power of choice and regrets in what it means to be a king.
“Should you really have snuck out of the palace like that?” George asks loudly, turning around and dusting his hands free of sugar and horse saliva. Jon flinches in surprise from where he leans on the fence.
“If you knew I had left, you would have known when to start looking for me.”
“Doesn’t mean I could’ve saved your life when some other unsavoury character happened across you first. You can’t pass as Johnny anymore. People know what you look like, even if you are a bit less comely than your portrait in the gallery.”
“I hear your mother has been working miracles of late.” Jon replies, watching George’s face. He has a feeling that Myles has told him more of George’s current troubles then George himself would have liked, but he is unable to shake the sense that it is in part his own fault. He always knew that something would interfere with his relationship with George, but he had not expected this. Alanna and heartbreak had been a possibility, was, still, a possibility. He had considered the Provost and being forced to turn a blind eye and a blank face, or ignoring talk of possible thefts that he should have prevented, but this was unexpected. He had always thought that George’s loyalties at knifepoint would be to the Rogue, to his Court and his people, even if it had meant George’s life or even Jon’s own life. To discover that that was not the case, that George’s loyalty had gone to him instead had shocked Jonathan, wormed its way into his heart and embedded itself there in a mass of guilt and shame and a realization of how undeserving of it he was.
“She has.” George says sharply, but Jon ignores him.
“I am sorry that its come to this for you. I never meant for our friendship to cause trouble for you, or to put you in the position I did.” Jon says quietly, earnestly.
“I made my own choices.” George spits. “I stand by ‘em. Lesson I learned long time ago. You make a choice once and don’t go back on it. My weight. My burden. My carry. Your royal shoulders have more than enough to worry about before adding me and mine.”
Jon stays silent, and George sighs, tension easing from him as he cracks his knuckles.
“Is that really the best way about it? To not go back on your choices? To not have regrets?”
“Standing by choices doesn’t mean you don’t regret them. Making those choices every time you had the option to make them doesn’t mean you don’t still find something to regret.”
“I wonder about it sometimes.” Jon says quietly, his fingers tightening on the fence. “Whether he had regrets. Wished that he hadn't welcomed Roger back, or hadn't denounced him when he was dead only to welcome him back with the most open of arms. If he had known what was to come. Whether he would have offered him bread and salt and wine if he knew Mother would be dead within a year if Roger had not cursed her and caused her ill health. I see what so many people do and think and see differently to me, and I wonder of they might be right. I don't think I should have regrets about what I have done, but I know that I one day shall, even if I still make the same choice and always would.”
“There's a handy thing called compromise for that.”
“Isn't a compromise still going back on my word? Going back on my choice? Being swayed by someone else when I should stand for my opinion? “
“You're the king to be, Jonathan. You know your own mind, your own heart. I can tell you to stand for your choices but offer a compromise too. Don’t look back, look forward. But I’ve never had no council of lords and privy and law and conservatives and judges and ruling folk breathing down my neck and checking my words over my shoulder. Only the Lord Provost, and when it all boils out and the Hag throws her dice we both want the same thing, and that’s what’s best for all the people in the streets, we just have different ways of getting it. Maybe that's the sort of person you have to be. As true as you can be to yourself, but always more mindful of what's best for all of your people, from the Vassa to Pearlmouth.”
“I always thought of the Rogue as different. That you were the King of Thieves and that was what you were, but it's not. “
“Depends if you’re a good Rogue or a bad Rogue.” George said wryly. “Told Alanna once that to everyone I knew, the Rogue, I, was more King than the King up on the hill. You’re changing it.”
“Why did you want to be the Rogue?”
“Wasn’t happy with the ways things were done. Chose to do them better.” George replies quietly, mockingly.
“Did you know what you were taking on?” Jon asks quietly, and George raises his eyebrows, giving a chuckle.
“I was all of seventeen. No one, not even those that think they do, know what they’re doing at that age. What it’s worth, I didn’t. Not the same way you do now. But I made the best of what I had. Made it work.”
“How?”
“It’s three days till Midwinter. My Court is in tatters, my most loyal are dead or follow another or are covered in healing salve, my base is no longer safe and yet I still have a responsibility. I owe it to them to do the best I can, even if they don’t appear to want me to do that. Ma used to do baskets for some of her patients at Midwinter when she was healing more, she put stuff aside and gave them a little basket or something to give them a bit of cheer. I did it my first year as Rogue for Ma, and I’ve done it every year since. I make sure that every family in the Lower City gets something, a basket, sweets or a blanket or a meal or some salve or something they wouldn’t have had the coin to spare on. There was hot lunches for free at the Dove, and Midwinter itself a decent feed all day, and in the towns, I make sure the lads know to ask for whatever they need. I did what I would’ve liked someone to do for Ma and me, and I do it now because it helps that little bit. I won’t be able to do it forever, and there’s no reason to think the Rogue after me would do the same.”
“You want me to take up the reins.”
“Wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“The cost.”
“Your Gallery could do with a few less ghastly portraits of you. Maybe cut it to one a year. Maybe one every two, if you keep getting those lines when you frown.”
“How long have you been planning on suggesting this to me?”
“Long enough. It’d show that you care. They’ll love you that bit more for it. Even if you make a choice they don’t like. Reminds them that even when you act like you need to go in the stocks, you’re not that heartless.”
“Tell Myles I said to give you whatever you need from the Palace.”
“I still don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity. It’s taking advice, and making a compromise. Looking to the future, not to the past.”
“And it’s making a choice you shouldn’t go back on.” George said, looking at him closely. Jon nods.
“Then let it be the first of many.”
Message: As it’s the 11th day of Christmas (I think) this is an 11th hour posting, so I hope you had a happy holiday season! I am so very incredibly sorry about the delays in posting this, and even though it’s really really late, I hope you do still enjoy it. ♥
From: Rachy
Title: A King’s Choices and A King’s Regrets
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1294
Prompt: #1: Jon/George, part of their relationship as young men.
Summary: Jon and George discuss the power of choice and regrets in what it means to be a king.
“Should you really have snuck out of the palace like that?” George asks loudly, turning around and dusting his hands free of sugar and horse saliva. Jon flinches in surprise from where he leans on the fence.
“If you knew I had left, you would have known when to start looking for me.”
“Doesn’t mean I could’ve saved your life when some other unsavoury character happened across you first. You can’t pass as Johnny anymore. People know what you look like, even if you are a bit less comely than your portrait in the gallery.”
“I hear your mother has been working miracles of late.” Jon replies, watching George’s face. He has a feeling that Myles has told him more of George’s current troubles then George himself would have liked, but he is unable to shake the sense that it is in part his own fault. He always knew that something would interfere with his relationship with George, but he had not expected this. Alanna and heartbreak had been a possibility, was, still, a possibility. He had considered the Provost and being forced to turn a blind eye and a blank face, or ignoring talk of possible thefts that he should have prevented, but this was unexpected. He had always thought that George’s loyalties at knifepoint would be to the Rogue, to his Court and his people, even if it had meant George’s life or even Jon’s own life. To discover that that was not the case, that George’s loyalty had gone to him instead had shocked Jonathan, wormed its way into his heart and embedded itself there in a mass of guilt and shame and a realization of how undeserving of it he was.
“She has.” George says sharply, but Jon ignores him.
“I am sorry that its come to this for you. I never meant for our friendship to cause trouble for you, or to put you in the position I did.” Jon says quietly, earnestly.
“I made my own choices.” George spits. “I stand by ‘em. Lesson I learned long time ago. You make a choice once and don’t go back on it. My weight. My burden. My carry. Your royal shoulders have more than enough to worry about before adding me and mine.”
Jon stays silent, and George sighs, tension easing from him as he cracks his knuckles.
“Is that really the best way about it? To not go back on your choices? To not have regrets?”
“Standing by choices doesn’t mean you don’t regret them. Making those choices every time you had the option to make them doesn’t mean you don’t still find something to regret.”
“I wonder about it sometimes.” Jon says quietly, his fingers tightening on the fence. “Whether he had regrets. Wished that he hadn't welcomed Roger back, or hadn't denounced him when he was dead only to welcome him back with the most open of arms. If he had known what was to come. Whether he would have offered him bread and salt and wine if he knew Mother would be dead within a year if Roger had not cursed her and caused her ill health. I see what so many people do and think and see differently to me, and I wonder of they might be right. I don't think I should have regrets about what I have done, but I know that I one day shall, even if I still make the same choice and always would.”
“There's a handy thing called compromise for that.”
“Isn't a compromise still going back on my word? Going back on my choice? Being swayed by someone else when I should stand for my opinion? “
“You're the king to be, Jonathan. You know your own mind, your own heart. I can tell you to stand for your choices but offer a compromise too. Don’t look back, look forward. But I’ve never had no council of lords and privy and law and conservatives and judges and ruling folk breathing down my neck and checking my words over my shoulder. Only the Lord Provost, and when it all boils out and the Hag throws her dice we both want the same thing, and that’s what’s best for all the people in the streets, we just have different ways of getting it. Maybe that's the sort of person you have to be. As true as you can be to yourself, but always more mindful of what's best for all of your people, from the Vassa to Pearlmouth.”
“I always thought of the Rogue as different. That you were the King of Thieves and that was what you were, but it's not. “
“Depends if you’re a good Rogue or a bad Rogue.” George said wryly. “Told Alanna once that to everyone I knew, the Rogue, I, was more King than the King up on the hill. You’re changing it.”
“Why did you want to be the Rogue?”
“Wasn’t happy with the ways things were done. Chose to do them better.” George replies quietly, mockingly.
“Did you know what you were taking on?” Jon asks quietly, and George raises his eyebrows, giving a chuckle.
“I was all of seventeen. No one, not even those that think they do, know what they’re doing at that age. What it’s worth, I didn’t. Not the same way you do now. But I made the best of what I had. Made it work.”
“How?”
“It’s three days till Midwinter. My Court is in tatters, my most loyal are dead or follow another or are covered in healing salve, my base is no longer safe and yet I still have a responsibility. I owe it to them to do the best I can, even if they don’t appear to want me to do that. Ma used to do baskets for some of her patients at Midwinter when she was healing more, she put stuff aside and gave them a little basket or something to give them a bit of cheer. I did it my first year as Rogue for Ma, and I’ve done it every year since. I make sure that every family in the Lower City gets something, a basket, sweets or a blanket or a meal or some salve or something they wouldn’t have had the coin to spare on. There was hot lunches for free at the Dove, and Midwinter itself a decent feed all day, and in the towns, I make sure the lads know to ask for whatever they need. I did what I would’ve liked someone to do for Ma and me, and I do it now because it helps that little bit. I won’t be able to do it forever, and there’s no reason to think the Rogue after me would do the same.”
“You want me to take up the reins.”
“Wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“The cost.”
“Your Gallery could do with a few less ghastly portraits of you. Maybe cut it to one a year. Maybe one every two, if you keep getting those lines when you frown.”
“How long have you been planning on suggesting this to me?”
“Long enough. It’d show that you care. They’ll love you that bit more for it. Even if you make a choice they don’t like. Reminds them that even when you act like you need to go in the stocks, you’re not that heartless.”
“Tell Myles I said to give you whatever you need from the Palace.”
“I still don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity. It’s taking advice, and making a compromise. Looking to the future, not to the past.”
“And it’s making a choice you shouldn’t go back on.” George said, looking at him closely. Jon nods.
“Then let it be the first of many.”