Post by devilinthedetails on Jun 6, 2018 11:36:18 GMT 10
Title: Wander the Wide World Over
Rating: PG
Prompt: Wanderlust
Summary: Three generations of Conte heirs and their wanderlust.
Wander the Wide World Over
I The Forest for the Trees
“Three squads of the King’s Own have been searching for you all morning.” Roald didn’t know whether to be relieved or exasperated when he and his mounted guards found his seven-year-old son scuttling about like a bear cub abandoned by its mother in a pine tree about an hour’s ride into the Royal Forest so he settled for being stern. Sitting down on the lowest branch broad enough to support him without cracking, Roald patted the bough beside him with a gloved palm in an order for Jon to join him.
A shower of sharply scented pine needles announced his son’s presence an instant before he slipped onto the branch beside Roald.
“Sorry, Father.” Jon’s eyes—blue as the sky above the verdant canopy of trees—widened in such a way that it was impossible for Roald to cling to his sternness in the pleading face of his son’s charm. “I didn’t mean to make everyone go hunting for me.”
“You’re the prince, the future of the realm.” Roald hugged Jon to his chest, reassuring his pounding heart that his son hadn’t been gored by a wild boar or devoured by a ravenous wolf. “Of course people worry about you and want to find you when you disappear.”
“I didn’t want to disappear, Father.” Jon’s small shoulders slumped. “I just wanted to escape the palace for awhile.”
“Did you come out here for peace and quiet, son?” Roald squeezed his child’s shoulders until the tension knotted inside them untied. He remembered how when he was a lad, he had fled to the forest as a refuge when the court became too loud. He had drowned out the vicious gossip of courtiers in birdsongs that made his soul soar. Babbling brooks had been his sanctuary from princely pressures. When he had closed his eyes in the shade of timeless elms and oaks, he had felt small in a way that gave him the strength he craved. He had pretended to practice his tracking and hunting in the forest so his father wouldn’t forbid these journeys but in truth it was only the silence that he sought.
“No, I wanted an adventure.” Jon bounced on his branch in excitement, and Roald reflected on how different his son was from him. “I wanted to explore the forest and climb trees.”
“It sounds to me as if you only wished to run away from your lessons.” Roald shook his head. He could indulge a son’s need for peace and quiet but not for a wanderlust that had turned his own father into a tyrant who terrorized family as much as neighboring countries. “You know you need to attend your lessons so you can understand the realm and rule it well when I’m gone, Jon.”
“I understand the realm better when I breathe it and touch it.” Jon grabbed a pinecone and peeled it between his fingers. “I learn more exploring outside than I do from reading dusty books that make me sneeze.”
“Those dusty books are filled with knowledge you’ll need when you’re king.” Roald frowned in a warning Jon didn’t heed.
“A king should know his people.” Jon beamed radiantly as if to charm away Roald’s frown. “I now understand peasant boys better.”
“Peasant boys have their duties and must obey their fathers or else be punished.” Roald scowled to dissuade Jon of the notion that he could flatter his way out of trouble. “You’ll apologize to the soldiers who had to waste time searching for you and complete three extra hours of lessons in addition to the ones that you missed on your adventure.”
“Yes, Father.” Jon’s shoulders sagged as if the bones had been removed from them, and Roald wondered if he had succeeded as a father—providing discipline for his wayward son—or of he had failed, displaying a lack of vision where he couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Parenting often left him adrift as a shipwrecked sailor in the middle of the tossing waves of the Emerald Ocean.
II Bandits and Baths
A wild—almost warlike—shriek interrupted Jon as he sat in his study, forehead furrowing as he contemplated a copious stack of documents compete with annotations in the margins that Gary had provided on the current trade relationships between Tortall and various major cities in Maren. Jon had to review the documents in detail for a meeting with the ambassador from Maren after breakfast but his oldest son barreling into his study, dripping wet from a bath with a towel wrapped like a loincloth about his waist as proof that he had fled from his nursemaid before she could dress him in his nightshirt, was an impressive distraction.
“I beg your pardon for the disruption, Your Majesty.” Roald’s nursemaid, Anwen, appeared in the doorway, her cheeks flaming as she curtsied. “I will have His Highness out of here in a wink.”
“I have a word alone with Roald first.” Jon massaged his throbbing temples, weary of documents and parenting. Thayet was chasing bandits with her Riders, and his children always engaged in more mischief when their mother was away. He didn’t know if it was a plea for adventure, attention, or both, but it exhausted his frayed nerves.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll be taking my leave.” Anwen sank into a second curtsy before departing, shutting the door in her wake.
“Roald.” Jon snagged his six-year-old son as he raced past. “It’s rude to run away from your nursemaid when she needs to get you ready for bed.”
“Sorry, Papa.” Roald squirmed like a worm in a puddle as Jon lifted him onto his lap, inhaling the scent of soap that clung to Roald’s hair and skin like the water droplets beading his flesh.
“I accept your apology, but you’ll have to say your sorry to Anwen as well.” Jon stroked at his son’s damp hair until Roald relaxed in his lap.
“Yes, Papa.” Roald looked as innocent as a young miscreant possibly could. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
“What did you want?” Jon hid a grin by pressing a gentle kiss into his son’s forehead.
“I want Mama.” Roald’s chin didn’t tremble as Jon would have expected. Instead it rose stubbornly.
“She’s out doing her duty, hunting down bandits, son.” Jon patted Roald on the back and tried not to think about how he missed Thayet as much as his children did when she rode into battle. She had her duty, and he had his. The Crown and the country always came first. “You must wait patiently for her to return and cooperate with the nursemaids as she would expect of you if she were here.”
“I don’t want to wait for her to come back, Papa.” Roald was all vehemence as he shook his head. “I want to hunt bandits with her.”
“You can hunt bandits with her when you’re knighted, but now you need to sleep so you can grow big enough to train as a knight.” Jon placed Roald on the floor and gave his son a nudging tap on the bottom to urge him toward the door. “Good night, and don’t forget your apology to Anwen.”
III Unused Language
“It upsets your mother when you refuse to study your Yamani calligraphy.” Roald kept his tone quiet as he steered Lianokami down a garden path between blooming cherry blossom trees at the castle where he was governor.
“It doesn’t matter how hard I study my Yamani calligraphy, Da.” Lianokami spoke like a southerner as she kicked at a weed that had sprung up between cobblestones. “I’ll never memorize all the characters, because it’s not like Common where you just need to know a limited number of letters. There are thousands of characters to memorize.”
“It matters to your mother that you be raised with some understanding of her culture, the culture she left behind to come here.” Roald squeezed his daughter’s shoulder, hoping to ease her frustration and remind her of her duty. “It matters much less to her that your calligraphy be perfect. Your sincere effort is what matters to her.”
“I’ll never be allowed to travel to the Yamani Islands, Da.” Lianokami scowled. “What’s the point of learning to write a language I’ll never use?”
“You can travel to the Yamani Islands in your mind when you study the language, and you can write to people from the Yamani Islands in their own words, which will give you a distinct diplomatic advantage in the future.” Roald kissed Lianokami’s ink black hair until her scowl softened into a half moon smile. “If you become a good enough diplomat, I’ll allow you to travel to the Yamani Islands one day as an ambassador.”
Lianokami’s dark eyes shone like her mother’s as she promised, “I’ll study my calligraphy every day if it means I can wander the wide world over as a diplomat.”
Rating: PG
Prompt: Wanderlust
Summary: Three generations of Conte heirs and their wanderlust.
Wander the Wide World Over
I The Forest for the Trees
“Three squads of the King’s Own have been searching for you all morning.” Roald didn’t know whether to be relieved or exasperated when he and his mounted guards found his seven-year-old son scuttling about like a bear cub abandoned by its mother in a pine tree about an hour’s ride into the Royal Forest so he settled for being stern. Sitting down on the lowest branch broad enough to support him without cracking, Roald patted the bough beside him with a gloved palm in an order for Jon to join him.
A shower of sharply scented pine needles announced his son’s presence an instant before he slipped onto the branch beside Roald.
“Sorry, Father.” Jon’s eyes—blue as the sky above the verdant canopy of trees—widened in such a way that it was impossible for Roald to cling to his sternness in the pleading face of his son’s charm. “I didn’t mean to make everyone go hunting for me.”
“You’re the prince, the future of the realm.” Roald hugged Jon to his chest, reassuring his pounding heart that his son hadn’t been gored by a wild boar or devoured by a ravenous wolf. “Of course people worry about you and want to find you when you disappear.”
“I didn’t want to disappear, Father.” Jon’s small shoulders slumped. “I just wanted to escape the palace for awhile.”
“Did you come out here for peace and quiet, son?” Roald squeezed his child’s shoulders until the tension knotted inside them untied. He remembered how when he was a lad, he had fled to the forest as a refuge when the court became too loud. He had drowned out the vicious gossip of courtiers in birdsongs that made his soul soar. Babbling brooks had been his sanctuary from princely pressures. When he had closed his eyes in the shade of timeless elms and oaks, he had felt small in a way that gave him the strength he craved. He had pretended to practice his tracking and hunting in the forest so his father wouldn’t forbid these journeys but in truth it was only the silence that he sought.
“No, I wanted an adventure.” Jon bounced on his branch in excitement, and Roald reflected on how different his son was from him. “I wanted to explore the forest and climb trees.”
“It sounds to me as if you only wished to run away from your lessons.” Roald shook his head. He could indulge a son’s need for peace and quiet but not for a wanderlust that had turned his own father into a tyrant who terrorized family as much as neighboring countries. “You know you need to attend your lessons so you can understand the realm and rule it well when I’m gone, Jon.”
“I understand the realm better when I breathe it and touch it.” Jon grabbed a pinecone and peeled it between his fingers. “I learn more exploring outside than I do from reading dusty books that make me sneeze.”
“Those dusty books are filled with knowledge you’ll need when you’re king.” Roald frowned in a warning Jon didn’t heed.
“A king should know his people.” Jon beamed radiantly as if to charm away Roald’s frown. “I now understand peasant boys better.”
“Peasant boys have their duties and must obey their fathers or else be punished.” Roald scowled to dissuade Jon of the notion that he could flatter his way out of trouble. “You’ll apologize to the soldiers who had to waste time searching for you and complete three extra hours of lessons in addition to the ones that you missed on your adventure.”
“Yes, Father.” Jon’s shoulders sagged as if the bones had been removed from them, and Roald wondered if he had succeeded as a father—providing discipline for his wayward son—or of he had failed, displaying a lack of vision where he couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Parenting often left him adrift as a shipwrecked sailor in the middle of the tossing waves of the Emerald Ocean.
II Bandits and Baths
A wild—almost warlike—shriek interrupted Jon as he sat in his study, forehead furrowing as he contemplated a copious stack of documents compete with annotations in the margins that Gary had provided on the current trade relationships between Tortall and various major cities in Maren. Jon had to review the documents in detail for a meeting with the ambassador from Maren after breakfast but his oldest son barreling into his study, dripping wet from a bath with a towel wrapped like a loincloth about his waist as proof that he had fled from his nursemaid before she could dress him in his nightshirt, was an impressive distraction.
“I beg your pardon for the disruption, Your Majesty.” Roald’s nursemaid, Anwen, appeared in the doorway, her cheeks flaming as she curtsied. “I will have His Highness out of here in a wink.”
“I have a word alone with Roald first.” Jon massaged his throbbing temples, weary of documents and parenting. Thayet was chasing bandits with her Riders, and his children always engaged in more mischief when their mother was away. He didn’t know if it was a plea for adventure, attention, or both, but it exhausted his frayed nerves.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll be taking my leave.” Anwen sank into a second curtsy before departing, shutting the door in her wake.
“Roald.” Jon snagged his six-year-old son as he raced past. “It’s rude to run away from your nursemaid when she needs to get you ready for bed.”
“Sorry, Papa.” Roald squirmed like a worm in a puddle as Jon lifted him onto his lap, inhaling the scent of soap that clung to Roald’s hair and skin like the water droplets beading his flesh.
“I accept your apology, but you’ll have to say your sorry to Anwen as well.” Jon stroked at his son’s damp hair until Roald relaxed in his lap.
“Yes, Papa.” Roald looked as innocent as a young miscreant possibly could. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
“What did you want?” Jon hid a grin by pressing a gentle kiss into his son’s forehead.
“I want Mama.” Roald’s chin didn’t tremble as Jon would have expected. Instead it rose stubbornly.
“She’s out doing her duty, hunting down bandits, son.” Jon patted Roald on the back and tried not to think about how he missed Thayet as much as his children did when she rode into battle. She had her duty, and he had his. The Crown and the country always came first. “You must wait patiently for her to return and cooperate with the nursemaids as she would expect of you if she were here.”
“I don’t want to wait for her to come back, Papa.” Roald was all vehemence as he shook his head. “I want to hunt bandits with her.”
“You can hunt bandits with her when you’re knighted, but now you need to sleep so you can grow big enough to train as a knight.” Jon placed Roald on the floor and gave his son a nudging tap on the bottom to urge him toward the door. “Good night, and don’t forget your apology to Anwen.”
III Unused Language
“It upsets your mother when you refuse to study your Yamani calligraphy.” Roald kept his tone quiet as he steered Lianokami down a garden path between blooming cherry blossom trees at the castle where he was governor.
“It doesn’t matter how hard I study my Yamani calligraphy, Da.” Lianokami spoke like a southerner as she kicked at a weed that had sprung up between cobblestones. “I’ll never memorize all the characters, because it’s not like Common where you just need to know a limited number of letters. There are thousands of characters to memorize.”
“It matters to your mother that you be raised with some understanding of her culture, the culture she left behind to come here.” Roald squeezed his daughter’s shoulder, hoping to ease her frustration and remind her of her duty. “It matters much less to her that your calligraphy be perfect. Your sincere effort is what matters to her.”
“I’ll never be allowed to travel to the Yamani Islands, Da.” Lianokami scowled. “What’s the point of learning to write a language I’ll never use?”
“You can travel to the Yamani Islands in your mind when you study the language, and you can write to people from the Yamani Islands in their own words, which will give you a distinct diplomatic advantage in the future.” Roald kissed Lianokami’s ink black hair until her scowl softened into a half moon smile. “If you become a good enough diplomat, I’ll allow you to travel to the Yamani Islands one day as an ambassador.”
Lianokami’s dark eyes shone like her mother’s as she promised, “I’ll study my calligraphy every day if it means I can wander the wide world over as a diplomat.”
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!