Post by mistrali on Sept 20, 2020 7:02:19 GMT 10
Title: All in Blue
Rating: G
Summary: Kally’s had enough of court, and Kaddar can’t take a hint.
Warnings: None
Notes: Apologies if Kally’s ride contradicts any of canon - geography isn’t my strong point. Title adapted from e.e. cummings.
*******
She can’t take one more day of meetings: she just can’t; and the prospect of her scheduled two-day outing with her husband-to-be, after the flurry of negotiations that they’re in the middle of, is intolerable. Her ladies in waiting have been informed that she isn’t to be disturbed. Courting is its own headache, and courting and being courted by an emperor while trying to fit the mould of everything Carthak wants from Empress Kalasin is, well… it makes her feel like one of the ants Liam used to burn under mirrors when he was little. Everyone is expecting a child, and Kally isn’t sure she wants one yet, not till she stops being caught up in the whirlwind (or, more often, the tedium) of court life.
It’s the rest hour for good reason - she can almost feel her skin burning despite the lotion, and sweat has already begun to slick her silk veil to her hair; but anything is better than Fazia and her recriminations, than the ministers and their silent censure, than sitting in that draughty hall knowing Kaddar will decimate each and every one of her ideas with the precision of Aunt Daine at target practice. Kally isn’t quiet enough, subservient enough, Carthaki enough, for any of them.
She thinks of her mother, who fled civil war for Corus, and resolutely does not weep. She also ignores the tiny voice of reason that tells her Tortall itself is beset by conservatives, even if they don’t wear their livery in quite the same colours as the Carthakis, and that it took Lady Knight Keladry for the fusty old leopards like Lord Wyldon of Cavall to change their spots. Instead she urges Nahima to a trot and rides out by the back ways of the palace, away from the sprawl of Thak City, towards the desert.
The buildings fade away gradually, leaving only scorching sand and blazing skies. She’s been riding for a while, keeping rigidly to the main road, watching the sun sink westward and wondering what she’ll do if she’s set upon by bandits, when she hears the jingle of spurs and the canter of hooves.
To her great surprise, instead of a servant, Kaddar draws up alongside her. He’s dressed in amethyst to her sapphire: the colour flatters his dark skin and lends warmth to his features. His hands look strangely bare without rings.
She shakes her head, furious now, and spurs Nahima to a canter; the wind makes her hair slip from its coif, and suddenly she hates that too, the pesky confining thing. She yanks it out and lets her hair unravel.
“Kalasin?”
Can’t he understand she wants to be alone? Must she spell that out too? These Carthakis are worse than hawks, always watching, always waiting, always trailing you around and dancing attendance. “Yes, Majesty. No, Majesty, right away, Majesty.”
“What do you want?” She says it civilly as she can, and tries not to sound like a petulant child. She is, after all, the one who has hurried away on her own private evening ride, without even a servant to accompany her.
“I was looking forward to spending time with you. You left in such a hurry that I wanted to make sure you were alright. It isn’t safe to be alone here at night.”
“I’m fine.” She swallows the ridiculous sob that threatens. She has never been one to weep easily, not like Liam, who breaks into noisy tears the moment anything upsets him.
He shakes his head, but doesn’t comment at the obvious platitude. Instead he tugs at the reins, making his horse surge forward to keep pace with hers. “There’s a little palace in Raihan, by the lake. It’s where I go when I want to be alone for a while. I thought we might visit and stay the night - you could stay by yourself, if you wanted. Or did you plan to keep riding into the evening?”
I planned to come back, she wants to say, and realises she can’t face the pageantry that will follow the next morning if she rides back to court for a fifteenth straight day of minutiae.
She sighs, and slows, and realises she hasn’t eaten midday. All of a sudden, although her irritation with him hasn’t ebbed, tea and supper seem like a very good idea.
“The negotiations with the Isles,” she says, and he shakes his head.
“They’ll keep. The diplomats could do with a holiday. I’ll send a message to the palace.” There is something like happiness in his tone, something like relief, even. It takes Kally aback. She still isn’t used to the idea that he might enjoy spending time with her for her own sake - and perhaps he doesn’t, at that. Perhaps he’s only looking forward to a night away.
Rating: G
Summary: Kally’s had enough of court, and Kaddar can’t take a hint.
Warnings: None
Notes: Apologies if Kally’s ride contradicts any of canon - geography isn’t my strong point. Title adapted from e.e. cummings.
*******
She can’t take one more day of meetings: she just can’t; and the prospect of her scheduled two-day outing with her husband-to-be, after the flurry of negotiations that they’re in the middle of, is intolerable. Her ladies in waiting have been informed that she isn’t to be disturbed. Courting is its own headache, and courting and being courted by an emperor while trying to fit the mould of everything Carthak wants from Empress Kalasin is, well… it makes her feel like one of the ants Liam used to burn under mirrors when he was little. Everyone is expecting a child, and Kally isn’t sure she wants one yet, not till she stops being caught up in the whirlwind (or, more often, the tedium) of court life.
It’s the rest hour for good reason - she can almost feel her skin burning despite the lotion, and sweat has already begun to slick her silk veil to her hair; but anything is better than Fazia and her recriminations, than the ministers and their silent censure, than sitting in that draughty hall knowing Kaddar will decimate each and every one of her ideas with the precision of Aunt Daine at target practice. Kally isn’t quiet enough, subservient enough, Carthaki enough, for any of them.
She thinks of her mother, who fled civil war for Corus, and resolutely does not weep. She also ignores the tiny voice of reason that tells her Tortall itself is beset by conservatives, even if they don’t wear their livery in quite the same colours as the Carthakis, and that it took Lady Knight Keladry for the fusty old leopards like Lord Wyldon of Cavall to change their spots. Instead she urges Nahima to a trot and rides out by the back ways of the palace, away from the sprawl of Thak City, towards the desert.
The buildings fade away gradually, leaving only scorching sand and blazing skies. She’s been riding for a while, keeping rigidly to the main road, watching the sun sink westward and wondering what she’ll do if she’s set upon by bandits, when she hears the jingle of spurs and the canter of hooves.
To her great surprise, instead of a servant, Kaddar draws up alongside her. He’s dressed in amethyst to her sapphire: the colour flatters his dark skin and lends warmth to his features. His hands look strangely bare without rings.
She shakes her head, furious now, and spurs Nahima to a canter; the wind makes her hair slip from its coif, and suddenly she hates that too, the pesky confining thing. She yanks it out and lets her hair unravel.
“Kalasin?”
Can’t he understand she wants to be alone? Must she spell that out too? These Carthakis are worse than hawks, always watching, always waiting, always trailing you around and dancing attendance. “Yes, Majesty. No, Majesty, right away, Majesty.”
“What do you want?” She says it civilly as she can, and tries not to sound like a petulant child. She is, after all, the one who has hurried away on her own private evening ride, without even a servant to accompany her.
“I was looking forward to spending time with you. You left in such a hurry that I wanted to make sure you were alright. It isn’t safe to be alone here at night.”
“I’m fine.” She swallows the ridiculous sob that threatens. She has never been one to weep easily, not like Liam, who breaks into noisy tears the moment anything upsets him.
He shakes his head, but doesn’t comment at the obvious platitude. Instead he tugs at the reins, making his horse surge forward to keep pace with hers. “There’s a little palace in Raihan, by the lake. It’s where I go when I want to be alone for a while. I thought we might visit and stay the night - you could stay by yourself, if you wanted. Or did you plan to keep riding into the evening?”
I planned to come back, she wants to say, and realises she can’t face the pageantry that will follow the next morning if she rides back to court for a fifteenth straight day of minutiae.
She sighs, and slows, and realises she hasn’t eaten midday. All of a sudden, although her irritation with him hasn’t ebbed, tea and supper seem like a very good idea.
“The negotiations with the Isles,” she says, and he shakes his head.
“They’ll keep. The diplomats could do with a holiday. I’ll send a message to the palace.” There is something like happiness in his tone, something like relief, even. It takes Kally aback. She still isn’t used to the idea that he might enjoy spending time with her for her own sake - and perhaps he doesn’t, at that. Perhaps he’s only looking forward to a night away.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!