Post by Kris11 on May 16, 2014 10:10:25 GMT 10
Title: Gilded Cage
Rating: G
Prompt: Songbird (#104)
Summary: For the first time since the earthquake, years after taking the throne in the midst of chaos, Jon visits Delia.
Delia sat in the rigid backed chair, waiting for her guest like a queen at audience, rather than his prisoner. It was all about appearances. She had learned that years ago, and learned it well. So, she put on her best dress, her jewelry, and her haughtiest expression. It fooled no one. She still could not leave this place, and it changed nothing about what she'd done with Roger. It would not make her queen.
But she raised her chin when Jonathon walked in, and held her silence as he examined her.
The songbird at the window trilled in the silence from its gilded cage.
Jonathan didn't take a seat, though there were plenty to choose from. Even imprisoned, Delia was a daughter of the Eldorne family and they were in the Book of Gold. Her prison was as luxurious as any noble lady's chambers. It should have supported this act she was putting on, the one of control, that the king would not take a seat she had not offered. It would have been a victory for her, before, when she knew him last. Instead, this agreement to play by the rules of her game infuriated her because they both knew the agreement was where the power was. He wasn't condescending in his acquiescence. Worse, there was a kindness, a sympathy, in him.
The years showed on her former lover. There was grey in his dark hair, lines around those Conté blue eyes, but time had given him strength in dignity, instead of stealing it from his youth. He had been an arrogant child when she had pulled him into his bed. He had been vital and entitled and impassioned, when she had seduced him with kisses and looks and Roger’s orders. Now, he was a man who knew himself too well to be fooled by any cheap tricks (and the only tricks Delia had ever been taught were cheap when they were all just skin deep).
She expected him to ask the questions she had rehearsed so many answers to. The whys of her betrayal and rebellion, but instead he stood because she had not invited him to sit and watched her, as she watched him. She wondered what changes age and truth had brought to her face. She rather thought she didn’t want to know.
The songbird at the window sang in its gilded cage. Delia remembered a convent mother telling one of the girls, once, that songbirds raised in cages could never survive if released, that on their own they would soon starve or fall prey to something raised strong, to fight and hunt and survive. Jon stood with the strength of an earthquake and betrayal and a kingdom resting on his shoulders. Delia sat pretty and useless and trapped, trapped, trapped.
Rating: G
Prompt: Songbird (#104)
Summary: For the first time since the earthquake, years after taking the throne in the midst of chaos, Jon visits Delia.
Delia sat in the rigid backed chair, waiting for her guest like a queen at audience, rather than his prisoner. It was all about appearances. She had learned that years ago, and learned it well. So, she put on her best dress, her jewelry, and her haughtiest expression. It fooled no one. She still could not leave this place, and it changed nothing about what she'd done with Roger. It would not make her queen.
But she raised her chin when Jonathon walked in, and held her silence as he examined her.
The songbird at the window trilled in the silence from its gilded cage.
Jonathan didn't take a seat, though there were plenty to choose from. Even imprisoned, Delia was a daughter of the Eldorne family and they were in the Book of Gold. Her prison was as luxurious as any noble lady's chambers. It should have supported this act she was putting on, the one of control, that the king would not take a seat she had not offered. It would have been a victory for her, before, when she knew him last. Instead, this agreement to play by the rules of her game infuriated her because they both knew the agreement was where the power was. He wasn't condescending in his acquiescence. Worse, there was a kindness, a sympathy, in him.
The years showed on her former lover. There was grey in his dark hair, lines around those Conté blue eyes, but time had given him strength in dignity, instead of stealing it from his youth. He had been an arrogant child when she had pulled him into his bed. He had been vital and entitled and impassioned, when she had seduced him with kisses and looks and Roger’s orders. Now, he was a man who knew himself too well to be fooled by any cheap tricks (and the only tricks Delia had ever been taught were cheap when they were all just skin deep).
She expected him to ask the questions she had rehearsed so many answers to. The whys of her betrayal and rebellion, but instead he stood because she had not invited him to sit and watched her, as she watched him. She wondered what changes age and truth had brought to her face. She rather thought she didn’t want to know.
The songbird at the window sang in its gilded cage. Delia remembered a convent mother telling one of the girls, once, that songbirds raised in cages could never survive if released, that on their own they would soon starve or fall prey to something raised strong, to fight and hunt and survive. Jon stood with the strength of an earthquake and betrayal and a kingdom resting on his shoulders. Delia sat pretty and useless and trapped, trapped, trapped.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!