Post by wordy on Dec 18, 2012 9:54:24 GMT 10
Title: with intent
Rating: G
Prompt: #13 the gift of best intentions
Summary: Set during Squire, shortly after the trial.
A/N: For Isha, though it’s less Joren-centric than I had initially planned. I was thinking of this the other day, then upon rereading the courtroom scene I was delighted to find that Paxton of Nond was portrayed as innocent of the whole situation. The idea of Paxton and Wyldon having known each other before kind of hit me, and I like it!
The steward and the Master Advocate had left as soon as was decent, no doubt eager to hurry back to Stone Mountain. The crowd dispersed quickly, for the most part, and it wasn’t until Wyldon reached the door to his office that he realised this meeting should have been expected.
Paxton of Nond looked up when the door opened, not at all apologetic at being found in the training master’s chair. To Wyldon’s eye he seemed more haggard than he had in court.
Wyldon took the seat opposite him. It unsettled him, slightly, to be on the wrong side of his desk. But many things had unsettled him about this day.
He waited for the other man to speak.
“I tried,” said Nond quietly, drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk. “You cannot deny me that much.”
“No, I cannot,” Wyldon said.
“The boy—,” he began, then paused, wiping a hand over his face. “It is a traditional occupation for first sons,” he went on, “but Joren was never meant for this.”
Though he knew it must be true, admitting as much was something he could not yet do, not aloud. Joren of Stone Mountain had only been a boy, promising in his skill and in his blood. Wyldon had once dreamed of the best for him. He had learned, now, not to put his faith in such things.
“You will carry on, until the Ordeal?” he asked finally, already anticipating the answer.
“Of course.”
The set of his mouth betrayed that he had questions—concerns—but did not ask them. For that Wyldon was glad: he was not sure he would know how to answer them.
The two men stood and Wyldon saw him to the door. At the last, Nond hesitated. “The debt?” he said.
It seemed a trifle, in light of all that the knight had done, but it was the only thing that Wyldon could offer him. His reputation would be spared—or, at least, would not remain sullied for long. The Nonds were an old family, and thought well of. Some small connection with the transgressions of Stone Mountain would be a ripple upon the water.
Wyldon laid a hand on his shoulder. “You owe me nothing.”
Rating: G
Prompt: #13 the gift of best intentions
Summary: Set during Squire, shortly after the trial.
A/N: For Isha, though it’s less Joren-centric than I had initially planned. I was thinking of this the other day, then upon rereading the courtroom scene I was delighted to find that Paxton of Nond was portrayed as innocent of the whole situation. The idea of Paxton and Wyldon having known each other before kind of hit me, and I like it!
The steward and the Master Advocate had left as soon as was decent, no doubt eager to hurry back to Stone Mountain. The crowd dispersed quickly, for the most part, and it wasn’t until Wyldon reached the door to his office that he realised this meeting should have been expected.
Paxton of Nond looked up when the door opened, not at all apologetic at being found in the training master’s chair. To Wyldon’s eye he seemed more haggard than he had in court.
Wyldon took the seat opposite him. It unsettled him, slightly, to be on the wrong side of his desk. But many things had unsettled him about this day.
He waited for the other man to speak.
“I tried,” said Nond quietly, drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk. “You cannot deny me that much.”
“No, I cannot,” Wyldon said.
“The boy—,” he began, then paused, wiping a hand over his face. “It is a traditional occupation for first sons,” he went on, “but Joren was never meant for this.”
Though he knew it must be true, admitting as much was something he could not yet do, not aloud. Joren of Stone Mountain had only been a boy, promising in his skill and in his blood. Wyldon had once dreamed of the best for him. He had learned, now, not to put his faith in such things.
“You will carry on, until the Ordeal?” he asked finally, already anticipating the answer.
“Of course.”
The set of his mouth betrayed that he had questions—concerns—but did not ask them. For that Wyldon was glad: he was not sure he would know how to answer them.
The two men stood and Wyldon saw him to the door. At the last, Nond hesitated. “The debt?” he said.
It seemed a trifle, in light of all that the knight had done, but it was the only thing that Wyldon could offer him. His reputation would be spared—or, at least, would not remain sullied for long. The Nonds were an old family, and thought well of. Some small connection with the transgressions of Stone Mountain would be a ripple upon the water.
Wyldon laid a hand on his shoulder. “You owe me nothing.”