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31_days2007-03-11 04:16 am
alyxbradford.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-03-11 04:16 am
[11 March] [various] Twenty Hearts
Title: Twenty Hearts
Day/Theme: 11 March – once the words are spoken, something may be broken
Series: original fiction, Greek mythology, I Claudius, Kushiel's Legacy, Arthurian Legend, Robin Hood, Sleeping Beauty
Character/Pairing: various
Rating: PG13
Notes: 10x100 -- drabbles for ten different couples
Emrine, Talsyra; 8 Mishan 44 s.n.
One bundle of furs should have been impossible to determine from another, but Aswold had no trouble picking his way to 'Draine. His thief's feet padded silently through the tent, around the rows of sleeping girls, until he knelt beside his beloved.
She scowled even in sleep, fierce in her dreams. Aswold smiled, wondering what enemy she imagined herself facing.
He pressed the softest of kisses to her limp blonde hair. "I will return," he vowed in a whisper. "Wait for me."
Words he could not speak when she was looking at him, but words that had to be said.
--
Troy; Rising of Ophiuchus, 1185 BC
"You must not say it." With another, Coroebus might have argued, but not with Princess Cassandra, not when she had that queer, hard look to her silver eyes. "You must never say it. Do not speak your love to me. Do not ask for my hand. Swear me no vows, no devotions."
"Princess," Coroebus began, "if I have in any way offended—"
Her expression turned achingly pitiful. "Do you not understand, Prince of Phrygia?" she half-wailed. "But of course you don't. You couldn't." She took his hand, pressed it tight. "It would be your death to speak these things."
--
Rome; prid. Id. Mai. AUC 771
"The oracle said--"
"Damn what the oracle said, 'Pina," Germanicus argued, irritably striding the length of the room. When he saw her frowning at his blasphemy, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll make the proper amends tomorrow. But you know as well as anyone, I can't refuse the order of the Emperor—"
But he had to stop. Agrippina, his darling, strong 'Pina, stared at him with tears welling in her fine eyes.
"You know what they say about assignments to the East," she said, putting great effort into keeping her voice from breaking. "Romans only go East to die."
--
Taros; 12 Shahrivar, Parthian year 429
"You love me," Altair laughed, tossing a fig at her. "You wouldn't keep coming back if you didn't."
Badra snorted inelegantly as she caught the fig deftly. "It isn't as though they'd beat me."
Grinning broadly, Altair stood, and swept her an ostentatious courtly bow. "I would endure a thousand lashes, highness, for the reward of one of your smiles."
Instead of laughing with her usual delight, Badra regarded him coolly, almost appraisingly. "Yes. I believe you would."
It was unsettling. Altair only knew how to deal with unsettling things by making light. "Well. They'd have to catch me, first."
--
Eglantine House, City of Elua, Terre d'Ange; Spring Solstice, 418 a.e.
"Tell me."
Etienne rolled his eyes. "Mirielle, you are entirely too pretty to have anyone swear their love to you. Your ego couldn't take the swelling."
Mirielle pouted. She was rarely prettier than when she pouted, although Etienne could think of a few very specific instances. "How very cruel of you to say such a thing," she said, her voice tender and vulnerable as any tragic heroine's could hope to be. "You know how fragile I am, really."
Etienne leaned forward, kissing her deeply, then said, "An actor knows better than to trust an actress with his heart, my dear."
--
Shailea, Auraeria; Year 12 of the Raeglythan Occupation
Marguerite twitched out her cloak and stared at Anselm, sleeping inelegantly on the other side of the fire. His mouth hung open, occasionally emitting a hearty snore. The charming simplicity of it almost brought a smile to her face.
'He cannot know,' she thought. 'Not even he. Or perhaps him least of all.'
She sighed. Her head bore no crown yet, but already she staggered from its weight, from the toll of being the strength of an entire nation. Her ragged army was fearful enough; they could not see hesitation or terror in her eyes.
And nor could her Consort-Designate.
--
North Wales; 2 May 530
"He cannot live forever," Accolon insisted in a severe whisper.
"This is your father you speak of!" Morgan chastised.
"And I love him as is his due, but what I say is still truth!" Accolon seized her shoulders. "And when he does die--"
"Yvain will be made King of North Wales," Morgan finished. "Unless you reveal him for a bastard by marrying me. Then Avalloch will take the throne and kill us both."
"We'll leave. Take Yvain to Tintagel. Your brother would give us his protection."
"Arthur has little enough love for me."
"He would not see you murdered."
--
Sherwood Forest, County Nottingham; 17 August 1193
"Well," Killian said, looking down at the unconscious guardsman. "That ought'ta clear up their confusion on whether I'm y'r captive or y'r cohort."
Will gaped at the redhead through the prison bars. "I'm not sure whether to kiss you or give you a good shaking."
She grinned. "An' when's that stopped ye doin' either before?"
"You gonna stand there and make jokes, or you gonna get me outta here? The keys're on his belt." Killian flipped her braid and leaned against her staff, arching her eyebrows meaningfully. "What? What're you waiting for?"
"F'r you t' say 'thank'ee,' ye mannerless git."
--
the Royal Castle, Franconia; 20 March 1302
"Just a few more days, dearest," King Stephen said, watching as the Marlyon returned to Eleanor's hand.
"What have I told you?" she said, quiet but quite insistent, not raising her voice for fear of startling the bird whose talons pressed into her glove. "We will not speak of it." She turned watery green eyes to him. "Stephen, we have come so far-- It has been so long-- If it were still to happen now... if Aurora should be returned to us only to be taken away again--" She closed her eyes briefly. "Stephen, I could not bear it."
--
Requin, Talsyra; 29 Camrin s.l. 414
Triena pressed her finger to Jahan's lips. "It will be our secret," she said, impudence sparkling emeralds in her eyes. "I've had Hana's own time evading Marten just to get here, but I had to tell you. I'm so excited. And no one must know!"
"Then perhaps you'd better not speak about it in the middle of the stables," Jahan muttered in warning, but his grin was playful.
Laughing, Triena kissed him again, and this time Jahan took the Princess in his arms, holding her body flush to his. "All right," he said, stroking her hair. "Tell me this plan."
Day/Theme: 11 March – once the words are spoken, something may be broken
Series: original fiction, Greek mythology, I Claudius, Kushiel's Legacy, Arthurian Legend, Robin Hood, Sleeping Beauty
Character/Pairing: various
Rating: PG13
Notes: 10x100 -- drabbles for ten different couples
Emrine, Talsyra; 8 Mishan 44 s.n.
One bundle of furs should have been impossible to determine from another, but Aswold had no trouble picking his way to 'Draine. His thief's feet padded silently through the tent, around the rows of sleeping girls, until he knelt beside his beloved.
She scowled even in sleep, fierce in her dreams. Aswold smiled, wondering what enemy she imagined herself facing.
He pressed the softest of kisses to her limp blonde hair. "I will return," he vowed in a whisper. "Wait for me."
Words he could not speak when she was looking at him, but words that had to be said.
--
Troy; Rising of Ophiuchus, 1185 BC
"You must not say it." With another, Coroebus might have argued, but not with Princess Cassandra, not when she had that queer, hard look to her silver eyes. "You must never say it. Do not speak your love to me. Do not ask for my hand. Swear me no vows, no devotions."
"Princess," Coroebus began, "if I have in any way offended—"
Her expression turned achingly pitiful. "Do you not understand, Prince of Phrygia?" she half-wailed. "But of course you don't. You couldn't." She took his hand, pressed it tight. "It would be your death to speak these things."
--
Rome; prid. Id. Mai. AUC 771
"The oracle said--"
"Damn what the oracle said, 'Pina," Germanicus argued, irritably striding the length of the room. When he saw her frowning at his blasphemy, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll make the proper amends tomorrow. But you know as well as anyone, I can't refuse the order of the Emperor—"
But he had to stop. Agrippina, his darling, strong 'Pina, stared at him with tears welling in her fine eyes.
"You know what they say about assignments to the East," she said, putting great effort into keeping her voice from breaking. "Romans only go East to die."
--
Taros; 12 Shahrivar, Parthian year 429
"You love me," Altair laughed, tossing a fig at her. "You wouldn't keep coming back if you didn't."
Badra snorted inelegantly as she caught the fig deftly. "It isn't as though they'd beat me."
Grinning broadly, Altair stood, and swept her an ostentatious courtly bow. "I would endure a thousand lashes, highness, for the reward of one of your smiles."
Instead of laughing with her usual delight, Badra regarded him coolly, almost appraisingly. "Yes. I believe you would."
It was unsettling. Altair only knew how to deal with unsettling things by making light. "Well. They'd have to catch me, first."
--
Eglantine House, City of Elua, Terre d'Ange; Spring Solstice, 418 a.e.
"Tell me."
Etienne rolled his eyes. "Mirielle, you are entirely too pretty to have anyone swear their love to you. Your ego couldn't take the swelling."
Mirielle pouted. She was rarely prettier than when she pouted, although Etienne could think of a few very specific instances. "How very cruel of you to say such a thing," she said, her voice tender and vulnerable as any tragic heroine's could hope to be. "You know how fragile I am, really."
Etienne leaned forward, kissing her deeply, then said, "An actor knows better than to trust an actress with his heart, my dear."
--
Shailea, Auraeria; Year 12 of the Raeglythan Occupation
Marguerite twitched out her cloak and stared at Anselm, sleeping inelegantly on the other side of the fire. His mouth hung open, occasionally emitting a hearty snore. The charming simplicity of it almost brought a smile to her face.
'He cannot know,' she thought. 'Not even he. Or perhaps him least of all.'
She sighed. Her head bore no crown yet, but already she staggered from its weight, from the toll of being the strength of an entire nation. Her ragged army was fearful enough; they could not see hesitation or terror in her eyes.
And nor could her Consort-Designate.
--
North Wales; 2 May 530
"He cannot live forever," Accolon insisted in a severe whisper.
"This is your father you speak of!" Morgan chastised.
"And I love him as is his due, but what I say is still truth!" Accolon seized her shoulders. "And when he does die--"
"Yvain will be made King of North Wales," Morgan finished. "Unless you reveal him for a bastard by marrying me. Then Avalloch will take the throne and kill us both."
"We'll leave. Take Yvain to Tintagel. Your brother would give us his protection."
"Arthur has little enough love for me."
"He would not see you murdered."
--
Sherwood Forest, County Nottingham; 17 August 1193
"Well," Killian said, looking down at the unconscious guardsman. "That ought'ta clear up their confusion on whether I'm y'r captive or y'r cohort."
Will gaped at the redhead through the prison bars. "I'm not sure whether to kiss you or give you a good shaking."
She grinned. "An' when's that stopped ye doin' either before?"
"You gonna stand there and make jokes, or you gonna get me outta here? The keys're on his belt." Killian flipped her braid and leaned against her staff, arching her eyebrows meaningfully. "What? What're you waiting for?"
"F'r you t' say 'thank'ee,' ye mannerless git."
--
the Royal Castle, Franconia; 20 March 1302
"Just a few more days, dearest," King Stephen said, watching as the Marlyon returned to Eleanor's hand.
"What have I told you?" she said, quiet but quite insistent, not raising her voice for fear of startling the bird whose talons pressed into her glove. "We will not speak of it." She turned watery green eyes to him. "Stephen, we have come so far-- It has been so long-- If it were still to happen now... if Aurora should be returned to us only to be taken away again--" She closed her eyes briefly. "Stephen, I could not bear it."
--
Requin, Talsyra; 29 Camrin s.l. 414
Triena pressed her finger to Jahan's lips. "It will be our secret," she said, impudence sparkling emeralds in her eyes. "I've had Hana's own time evading Marten just to get here, but I had to tell you. I'm so excited. And no one must know!"
"Then perhaps you'd better not speak about it in the middle of the stables," Jahan muttered in warning, but his grin was playful.
Laughing, Triena kissed him again, and this time Jahan took the Princess in his arms, holding her body flush to his. "All right," he said, stroking her hair. "Tell me this plan."