(no subject)
Title: The Job
Story: Atarah's Freedom
Characters: Russom
Flavours: Sour Grape #9 [Nobody's home]
Toppings: Caramel
Extras: n/a
Word count: 731
Rating: G
Summary: In which Russom moves to Alraeish.
Notes: Part of the caramel story for Dragonfire that I wrote for NaNo last year... I don't want to give away spoilers~ so I think I picked a relatively alright piece :). Also, first day of the Olympics challenge, wooh!
Russom followed his uncle into the empty house, scrunching up his nose in distaste at the layer of dust that coated the shelves and cabinets. He ran his finger over one and it came away black. When he showed his uncle, the man simply smiled.
"I'll have to get someone in for that, I know," he said. "But for now, it should be habitable." He directed their coach driver to put the trunk he carried over by the fireplace. "The other one there too, please." The man nodded and walked outside again.
"I thought you came back here every year?"
"I do," his uncle replied. "Once a year though and I don't hire anyone to clean it out in between. I spend barely any time here even when I am in Alraeish, so it's not all that necessary."
Russom looked around. "It is now."
His uncle smiled and rolled his eyes. "You're surprisingly spoilt, to say you grew up where you did."
Russom shrugged. "Mum kept telling me how amazing this place was."
"Your mother remembers things very differently than she used to," his uncle warned. "You know that."
"I know," Russom replied. "But still. It's not very-"
"It'll be fine, once it's done up." The coach driver came in with the second trunk and put it next to the first. Russom's uncle smiled at him and paid him as he led him to the door. That done, the door was closed and his uncle turned around to face him.
"You need to be more careful, Russom," he chided, walking past the man and into the sitting room. "You can't let anyone overhear you talking like that, remember?"
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise to me," his uncle said. He opened the windows and fresh air blew through the room. "You'll have to apologise to your father, if you botch this job."
"I'm not going to."
Something in his voice made his uncle turn around and look at him; the man smiled gently. "I know you won't," he said. "Just remember what we talked about. You're my son, for now. It's much easier to pass it off that way; and though I love your mother, you will be accepted much more easily if you are seen as my son rather than hers."
Russom nodded. "Anything to make this job easier," he said. "Did dad tell you what the princess was like?"
"I don't think even he knows," his uncle said. He walked out of the sitting room and into the dining room; Russom followed and leaned against the doorframe. "He just knows she's young - not too young, for you; she should be sixteen now. You have to make yourself more interesting than the other men at court, Russom. Should be easy enough, for you."
Russom laughed. "Should be," he replied. He looked at the stairs. "Can I go pick a room?"
"Go ahead," his uncle said. "The master bedroom is mine, though."
"Alright," Russom replied and ran up the stairs. He picked a room on the south side of the house, so that he could see the direction they'd taken from the harbour. The direction that led back to Ethrial, that led back home.
His fingers clenched tightly on the windowsill. It was a great honour, to have been picked for this - he could tell by the look on Meir's face, though Meir had never wanted to go; but still, he disliked being this far from home. His mother was from here, sure. It didn't mean he'd ever had any desire to visit the place.
The idea of going to court too, of dressing up and strutting around for a darling little princess; that made his stomach clench. Still, he could have never said no. It was important, this mission. Important for all of them.
Russom stared out of the window for a long time, until shadows were cast across the room and he heard his uncle's heavy footsteps in the doorway.
"Russom?" he said. "You're not worried about this, are you?"
Russom smiled when he turned his head. "Of course not," he said. "Not got a thing to worry about."
"Good. I've got some food downstairs. We'll eat, sleep and make some solid plans in the morning, how about that?"
Russom pushed away from the window and joined his uncle in the doorway. "That sounds good," he said.
Story: Atarah's Freedom
Characters: Russom
Flavours: Sour Grape #9 [Nobody's home]
Toppings: Caramel
Extras: n/a
Word count: 731
Rating: G
Summary: In which Russom moves to Alraeish.
Notes: Part of the caramel story for Dragonfire that I wrote for NaNo last year... I don't want to give away spoilers~ so I think I picked a relatively alright piece :). Also, first day of the Olympics challenge, wooh!
Russom followed his uncle into the empty house, scrunching up his nose in distaste at the layer of dust that coated the shelves and cabinets. He ran his finger over one and it came away black. When he showed his uncle, the man simply smiled.
"I'll have to get someone in for that, I know," he said. "But for now, it should be habitable." He directed their coach driver to put the trunk he carried over by the fireplace. "The other one there too, please." The man nodded and walked outside again.
"I thought you came back here every year?"
"I do," his uncle replied. "Once a year though and I don't hire anyone to clean it out in between. I spend barely any time here even when I am in Alraeish, so it's not all that necessary."
Russom looked around. "It is now."
His uncle smiled and rolled his eyes. "You're surprisingly spoilt, to say you grew up where you did."
Russom shrugged. "Mum kept telling me how amazing this place was."
"Your mother remembers things very differently than she used to," his uncle warned. "You know that."
"I know," Russom replied. "But still. It's not very-"
"It'll be fine, once it's done up." The coach driver came in with the second trunk and put it next to the first. Russom's uncle smiled at him and paid him as he led him to the door. That done, the door was closed and his uncle turned around to face him.
"You need to be more careful, Russom," he chided, walking past the man and into the sitting room. "You can't let anyone overhear you talking like that, remember?"
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise to me," his uncle said. He opened the windows and fresh air blew through the room. "You'll have to apologise to your father, if you botch this job."
"I'm not going to."
Something in his voice made his uncle turn around and look at him; the man smiled gently. "I know you won't," he said. "Just remember what we talked about. You're my son, for now. It's much easier to pass it off that way; and though I love your mother, you will be accepted much more easily if you are seen as my son rather than hers."
Russom nodded. "Anything to make this job easier," he said. "Did dad tell you what the princess was like?"
"I don't think even he knows," his uncle said. He walked out of the sitting room and into the dining room; Russom followed and leaned against the doorframe. "He just knows she's young - not too young, for you; she should be sixteen now. You have to make yourself more interesting than the other men at court, Russom. Should be easy enough, for you."
Russom laughed. "Should be," he replied. He looked at the stairs. "Can I go pick a room?"
"Go ahead," his uncle said. "The master bedroom is mine, though."
"Alright," Russom replied and ran up the stairs. He picked a room on the south side of the house, so that he could see the direction they'd taken from the harbour. The direction that led back to Ethrial, that led back home.
His fingers clenched tightly on the windowsill. It was a great honour, to have been picked for this - he could tell by the look on Meir's face, though Meir had never wanted to go; but still, he disliked being this far from home. His mother was from here, sure. It didn't mean he'd ever had any desire to visit the place.
The idea of going to court too, of dressing up and strutting around for a darling little princess; that made his stomach clench. Still, he could have never said no. It was important, this mission. Important for all of them.
Russom stared out of the window for a long time, until shadows were cast across the room and he heard his uncle's heavy footsteps in the doorway.
"Russom?" he said. "You're not worried about this, are you?"
Russom smiled when he turned his head. "Of course not," he said. "Not got a thing to worry about."
"Good. I've got some food downstairs. We'll eat, sleep and make some solid plans in the morning, how about that?"
Russom pushed away from the window and joined his uncle in the doorway. "That sounds good," he said.