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31_days2006-02-03 08:55 pm
alyxbradford.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-02-03 08:55 pm
[3 Feb] [Kushiel's Legacy] For More
Title: For More
Day/Theme: 3 Feb - lemongrass summer
Series: Kushiel's Legacy
Character: Ysandre
Rating: PG
There is nothing so beautiful as the City of Elua in high summer, or at least I shall never be convinced otherwise. Garlands of flowers hang from every window, bells ring in each wafting breeze, and the sun seems to shine constantly. We have had a mild winter, a fortunate spring, and now a flourishing summer. My people are full, healthy, happy. I could not ask for more.
My husband has joined me for the season. It still makes my heart glad, to see my people cheer for him every spring, to see him welcomed into my land. We are not so imperious, not so superior, that we can not love these people, those we once called barbarians. We are a proud people, but not ungrateful. My people do not forget the tragedy so narrowly avoided at Troyes-le-Mont, do not forget the aid given us by Alba. They see my girls, my darling babes, and do not think less of them for their blood. They are no less the children of angels for being also the children of earth.
I watch my sweet ones playing in the courtyard: Sidonie with flowers in her hair, Alais so anxious to clamber over everything in sight. So young, they are already so different. I see in Sidonie the regality she will someday need to take my place. She was born with all the dignity of House Courcel, the awareness of being ever watched. Strange to think a six-year-old might know she has an audience, but I think she slid from my womb knowing that. She is so proper. But I see in those dark eyes of hers her father's thoughtfulness. I wonder, sometimes, what deep things she ponders, what considerations pass her child's mind. Was I so aware, so young? I can no longer remember.
She will make a good queen someday. No day too soon, I hope, but she will be wise, and just, and, I hope, loved.
Alais is so different. All the dignity Sidonie carries, she lacks. It is perhaps unfair of me to judge her so; she is only four, after all. But I think I am right, and will remain so. There is a wildness, a willfulness, to her. She is so active, so boistrous. She wants to be the sun and shine everywhere, uncover every shadow, work her way into every crack and crevice she can find, explore every inch of the world. Her laughter is more music to me than any song my troubadours could play. She will give me trouble as she grows, I can sense that now, and I can not wait for it. My Alais will be beautiful and break hearts from Camlach to Kusheth, Elua love her for it.
So strange, to imagine the future thus, to think of a time when my light will fade and be passed to my daughters. Do all mothers think this? Do they look on their infants and prophesize for them? I think they must. How could any woman look upon her babes and fail to see the brightest possible future for them?
They love each other fiercely. They squabble, as all children do, and there are occasional fits of tears and hair-pullings (admittedly, both usually from Alais), but I can see it between them, like a golden glow, this love. I think they shall be glad for that. The world may send them challenges, as it has me, but they will always, always have each other to rely on. I could not ask for more.
It would be easy to forget, in such a beautiful summer, anything else. It would be easy to set aside all the problems I cannot fix. I have done well for my country, and given them all I could, and yet some things remain beyond my control.
I have my two girls, but I think of that poor child, Benedicte's boy. He follows my girls to the throne, and yet I do not know where he is, who controls him.
I would have him here. I would have him grow alongside his cousins, have him make friends of them. It is probably that whoever has him now is instead teaching him to hate my dear girls. I pray this will not build, not come to a civil war, as could so easily have torn Terre d'Ange apart early in my reign. He should be with them, he should share this love they have for each other.
Drustan tells me I must not give myself headaches over it. I have done all I can, absolutely everything in my power to help the child, to find him and bring him to safety. I can do no more than everything.
And yet, it is not enough.
Well, and so. Some things cannot be changed simply because we will them so, but must play themselves out in the course of time. I will try to put it from my mind, until I am granted opportunity to act.
It is high summer in the City of Elua, and my people are fed and happy. My world is at peace. I have a strong and noble husband at my side, a man I adore with heart-trembling fervor. I have two beautiful daughters, as intelligent as they are lovely, and this afternoon the most pressing matter at my attention is to watch them in the sunlight.
I could not--
I can not ask for more.
Day/Theme: 3 Feb - lemongrass summer
Series: Kushiel's Legacy
Character: Ysandre
Rating: PG
There is nothing so beautiful as the City of Elua in high summer, or at least I shall never be convinced otherwise. Garlands of flowers hang from every window, bells ring in each wafting breeze, and the sun seems to shine constantly. We have had a mild winter, a fortunate spring, and now a flourishing summer. My people are full, healthy, happy. I could not ask for more.
My husband has joined me for the season. It still makes my heart glad, to see my people cheer for him every spring, to see him welcomed into my land. We are not so imperious, not so superior, that we can not love these people, those we once called barbarians. We are a proud people, but not ungrateful. My people do not forget the tragedy so narrowly avoided at Troyes-le-Mont, do not forget the aid given us by Alba. They see my girls, my darling babes, and do not think less of them for their blood. They are no less the children of angels for being also the children of earth.
I watch my sweet ones playing in the courtyard: Sidonie with flowers in her hair, Alais so anxious to clamber over everything in sight. So young, they are already so different. I see in Sidonie the regality she will someday need to take my place. She was born with all the dignity of House Courcel, the awareness of being ever watched. Strange to think a six-year-old might know she has an audience, but I think she slid from my womb knowing that. She is so proper. But I see in those dark eyes of hers her father's thoughtfulness. I wonder, sometimes, what deep things she ponders, what considerations pass her child's mind. Was I so aware, so young? I can no longer remember.
She will make a good queen someday. No day too soon, I hope, but she will be wise, and just, and, I hope, loved.
Alais is so different. All the dignity Sidonie carries, she lacks. It is perhaps unfair of me to judge her so; she is only four, after all. But I think I am right, and will remain so. There is a wildness, a willfulness, to her. She is so active, so boistrous. She wants to be the sun and shine everywhere, uncover every shadow, work her way into every crack and crevice she can find, explore every inch of the world. Her laughter is more music to me than any song my troubadours could play. She will give me trouble as she grows, I can sense that now, and I can not wait for it. My Alais will be beautiful and break hearts from Camlach to Kusheth, Elua love her for it.
So strange, to imagine the future thus, to think of a time when my light will fade and be passed to my daughters. Do all mothers think this? Do they look on their infants and prophesize for them? I think they must. How could any woman look upon her babes and fail to see the brightest possible future for them?
They love each other fiercely. They squabble, as all children do, and there are occasional fits of tears and hair-pullings (admittedly, both usually from Alais), but I can see it between them, like a golden glow, this love. I think they shall be glad for that. The world may send them challenges, as it has me, but they will always, always have each other to rely on. I could not ask for more.
It would be easy to forget, in such a beautiful summer, anything else. It would be easy to set aside all the problems I cannot fix. I have done well for my country, and given them all I could, and yet some things remain beyond my control.
I have my two girls, but I think of that poor child, Benedicte's boy. He follows my girls to the throne, and yet I do not know where he is, who controls him.
I would have him here. I would have him grow alongside his cousins, have him make friends of them. It is probably that whoever has him now is instead teaching him to hate my dear girls. I pray this will not build, not come to a civil war, as could so easily have torn Terre d'Ange apart early in my reign. He should be with them, he should share this love they have for each other.
Drustan tells me I must not give myself headaches over it. I have done all I can, absolutely everything in my power to help the child, to find him and bring him to safety. I can do no more than everything.
And yet, it is not enough.
Well, and so. Some things cannot be changed simply because we will them so, but must play themselves out in the course of time. I will try to put it from my mind, until I am granted opportunity to act.
It is high summer in the City of Elua, and my people are fed and happy. My world is at peace. I have a strong and noble husband at my side, a man I adore with heart-trembling fervor. I have two beautiful daughters, as intelligent as they are lovely, and this afternoon the most pressing matter at my attention is to watch them in the sunlight.
I could not--
I can not ask for more.