Post by Kypriotha on Aug 30, 2013 5:13:23 GMT 10
Title: From A Distance
Rating: G
Category: Tortall <1000 words
Length: 637
Original and Subsequent Haunts: Original - Goldenlake; subsequent - Fanfiction.net, The King's Own
Summary: Zahir watches Neal with interest…but from a distance.
Notes: Written for the Goldenlake Holiday Wishing Tree - prompt: "Neal and Zahir. (Any kind of context.)"
---
Zahir had always watched Nealan with interest. That's not to say he respected him, or even liked him, but he was always interested in him. Older than all the other pages, Nealan exuded a strange sense of confidence that none of the other pages had, even Joren in all his glory. Joren had always thought he was better than everyone else, even Zahir. But his image depended on what others thought of him. Nealan simply didn't care. Until a ten year old girl entered page training. And suddenly there was one person whose opinion Nealan did care about.
Zahir told himself he wasn't jealous. He was of the noble Bazhir. Such feelings were beneath him. And besides, he didn't even like Nealan. So he had no reason to be jealous of the Mindelan girl. But that didn't stop him keeping an eye on both of them.
Eventually Zahir grew tired of Joren, of his immaturity and his pettiness. He distanced himself from his old friends and concentrated on his training, ever watchful of Nealan and his friends. He admired the way they stood up to Joren and his bullies, even though he could never tell them so. Never tell him so.
When King Jonathan asked Zahir to be his squire, he accepted gladly. Being Squire to the King meant he had to stay around the Palace. Where the pages trained. Where he trained. If his duties brought him in frequent contact with the pages, no one questioned it. No one questioned the King's Squire.
He would, a voice inside him whispered. He questions everything. You used to hate it. Now you're doing it. What does that tell you? Zahir brushed the thought aside. It meant nothing. He meant nothing.
Zahir continued to tell himself that when Lady Alanna chose Nealan as her squire and whisked him off to Pirate's Swoop. He pretended not to be glad when the King and Lady Alanna's relationship improved and they began seeing more of each other again. Whilst they talked business or family, their squires were left to their own devices. Zahir was surprised, but pleased, when Nealan spoke to him. Conversed about politics and history and life at Court, their history as pages seemingly forgotten. Zahir responded politely, trying to seem interested and intelligent – but not too interested. Some days his heart beat so loud he was sure Nealan must hear it, but he never gave any indication he had.
The day of Zahir's Ordeal approached. It was an exciting year – a death and a confession. But the only excitement Zahir felt was when he glanced his face in the crowd; an excitement which was matched only by his disappointment when he didn't say anything to him.
Zahir drifted gloomily through the next year. He welcomed border patrol as a distraction from Court life, from the people there – until he realized that it actually left him more time with his thoughts. Thoughts he didn't want to face, but finally realised he had to. With a renewed sense of self, Zahir returned to Corus at Midwinter, determined to say something, anything. Anything that might lead to a beginning.
His resolve was tested when he saw Nealan leaving a Midwinter's Party with one of the pretty attendant's of the Yamani Princess. Watching their animated faces as they argued, Zahir hesitated and the moment was lost. He never found it again.
A year later, Zahir stood at the back of a crowded room, hidden in shadows. He watched the young man pause by the young lady and ask a question with his eyes. A question Zahir recognised. A question he would never get a satisfactory answer to.
Zahir turned away before he could see Lady Yukimi's answer, though he knew what it would be. And in that moment, he felt his heart break.
Rating: G
Category: Tortall <1000 words
Length: 637
Original and Subsequent Haunts: Original - Goldenlake; subsequent - Fanfiction.net, The King's Own
Summary: Zahir watches Neal with interest…but from a distance.
Notes: Written for the Goldenlake Holiday Wishing Tree - prompt: "Neal and Zahir. (Any kind of context.)"
---
Zahir had always watched Nealan with interest. That's not to say he respected him, or even liked him, but he was always interested in him. Older than all the other pages, Nealan exuded a strange sense of confidence that none of the other pages had, even Joren in all his glory. Joren had always thought he was better than everyone else, even Zahir. But his image depended on what others thought of him. Nealan simply didn't care. Until a ten year old girl entered page training. And suddenly there was one person whose opinion Nealan did care about.
Zahir told himself he wasn't jealous. He was of the noble Bazhir. Such feelings were beneath him. And besides, he didn't even like Nealan. So he had no reason to be jealous of the Mindelan girl. But that didn't stop him keeping an eye on both of them.
Eventually Zahir grew tired of Joren, of his immaturity and his pettiness. He distanced himself from his old friends and concentrated on his training, ever watchful of Nealan and his friends. He admired the way they stood up to Joren and his bullies, even though he could never tell them so. Never tell him so.
When King Jonathan asked Zahir to be his squire, he accepted gladly. Being Squire to the King meant he had to stay around the Palace. Where the pages trained. Where he trained. If his duties brought him in frequent contact with the pages, no one questioned it. No one questioned the King's Squire.
He would, a voice inside him whispered. He questions everything. You used to hate it. Now you're doing it. What does that tell you? Zahir brushed the thought aside. It meant nothing. He meant nothing.
Zahir continued to tell himself that when Lady Alanna chose Nealan as her squire and whisked him off to Pirate's Swoop. He pretended not to be glad when the King and Lady Alanna's relationship improved and they began seeing more of each other again. Whilst they talked business or family, their squires were left to their own devices. Zahir was surprised, but pleased, when Nealan spoke to him. Conversed about politics and history and life at Court, their history as pages seemingly forgotten. Zahir responded politely, trying to seem interested and intelligent – but not too interested. Some days his heart beat so loud he was sure Nealan must hear it, but he never gave any indication he had.
The day of Zahir's Ordeal approached. It was an exciting year – a death and a confession. But the only excitement Zahir felt was when he glanced his face in the crowd; an excitement which was matched only by his disappointment when he didn't say anything to him.
Zahir drifted gloomily through the next year. He welcomed border patrol as a distraction from Court life, from the people there – until he realized that it actually left him more time with his thoughts. Thoughts he didn't want to face, but finally realised he had to. With a renewed sense of self, Zahir returned to Corus at Midwinter, determined to say something, anything. Anything that might lead to a beginning.
His resolve was tested when he saw Nealan leaving a Midwinter's Party with one of the pretty attendant's of the Yamani Princess. Watching their animated faces as they argued, Zahir hesitated and the moment was lost. He never found it again.
A year later, Zahir stood at the back of a crowded room, hidden in shadows. He watched the young man pause by the young lady and ask a question with his eyes. A question Zahir recognised. A question he would never get a satisfactory answer to.
Zahir turned away before he could see Lady Yukimi's answer, though he knew what it would be. And in that moment, he felt his heart break.