"The Price of Peace"
Title: The Price of Peace
Author: Amorissy
Characters: Ashelia and her knight
Rating: PG
Summary: A personal recollection regarding the deciding of the fate of a daughter of kings.
Author's Note: Written for Round 5.02, "The Beginning", in ultima_arena over at ff_land.
The Price of Peace
The emissaries arrived before dawn. Their king had not travelled with them.
It was a dark and uncertain time. Talk of war had drowned out all else. The skies were watched, and the roads were thick with spies, and so it was that lesser men convened to discuss the fates of lands and rulers both, there in the sprawling city of Rabanastre.
I watched their arrival from a high window, a ghost in the shadow. Sunrise was only a pale whisper on the horizon. I should have been abed, yet I could not sleep. Alone, I had crept through darkened corridors to look on, unseen from my perch, a little bird of sweet voice and no words.
I was a timid thing, all those years ago. My hand had held neither blade nor bow.
That day, as every day, the sun rose scorching over the city. The palace remained quiet. Even I found it to be an idle day. My ladies dressed me in my lightest silks. Within me, my heart was leaden with worry.
The doors to the council chambers were closed. I imagined those weary old men within; their robes were grey, their faces, their hearts. Mumbling over their parchment, weighing trade and harvest, the costs of bread and labour. Discussing the worth of their treasuries.
Two kingdoms, akin in legacy, alike in prosperity. To forge a stronger union, my father had said.
Would that I had understood his sorrow then.
The day passed. The sun set. Darkness descended upon the desert. Beyond the city walls, the sands were still and silent.
After dinner, I retired to the gardens alone. I heard music drifting over the walls, languid, sultry, and distant. It made me brave. I took the quiet back ways into the depths of the palace.
The hall outside the council chamber was guarded. I lingered beneath a darkened arch, looking out over the garden. A hundred lanterns glowed in a verdant, fragrant sea.
The hour of midnight was nigh to striking when the doors finally opened. Out slipped a single man, a satchel secured at his side. I stepped out from behind the great sandstone pillar to watch him leave.
Then, the clangour of mail was behind me. I turned, caught. Too late to hide.
"My lady, you should not be here," said the knight, towering over me.
"I could not stay away," I said, watching the light of the council chamber spill out into the hall. No sound came from within. I stepped back once more to the protection of the pillar and the clinging gloom. With great hesitance, the knight followed.
"Is it finished, then?" I asked.
The knight nodded. "It is."
"That man carries our fates in his satchel," I said. "You will tell me."
"I cannot," he said, bowing his head. "I am sorry."
"I would hear it from you," I said. Boldly, I touched his unshaven jaw.
So solemn, the knight rested his hand upon mine. "Princess, you are to marry."
The knowledge weighed heavy with sorrow. Gently, his arm went about me as I trembled, and together we stood in the shadow, bound then, forever, by the sealing of my fate.
Author: Amorissy
Characters: Ashelia and her knight
Rating: PG
Summary: A personal recollection regarding the deciding of the fate of a daughter of kings.
Author's Note: Written for Round 5.02, "The Beginning", in ultima_arena over at ff_land.
The Price of Peace
The emissaries arrived before dawn. Their king had not travelled with them.
It was a dark and uncertain time. Talk of war had drowned out all else. The skies were watched, and the roads were thick with spies, and so it was that lesser men convened to discuss the fates of lands and rulers both, there in the sprawling city of Rabanastre.
I watched their arrival from a high window, a ghost in the shadow. Sunrise was only a pale whisper on the horizon. I should have been abed, yet I could not sleep. Alone, I had crept through darkened corridors to look on, unseen from my perch, a little bird of sweet voice and no words.
I was a timid thing, all those years ago. My hand had held neither blade nor bow.
That day, as every day, the sun rose scorching over the city. The palace remained quiet. Even I found it to be an idle day. My ladies dressed me in my lightest silks. Within me, my heart was leaden with worry.
The doors to the council chambers were closed. I imagined those weary old men within; their robes were grey, their faces, their hearts. Mumbling over their parchment, weighing trade and harvest, the costs of bread and labour. Discussing the worth of their treasuries.
Two kingdoms, akin in legacy, alike in prosperity. To forge a stronger union, my father had said.
Would that I had understood his sorrow then.
The day passed. The sun set. Darkness descended upon the desert. Beyond the city walls, the sands were still and silent.
After dinner, I retired to the gardens alone. I heard music drifting over the walls, languid, sultry, and distant. It made me brave. I took the quiet back ways into the depths of the palace.
The hall outside the council chamber was guarded. I lingered beneath a darkened arch, looking out over the garden. A hundred lanterns glowed in a verdant, fragrant sea.
The hour of midnight was nigh to striking when the doors finally opened. Out slipped a single man, a satchel secured at his side. I stepped out from behind the great sandstone pillar to watch him leave.
Then, the clangour of mail was behind me. I turned, caught. Too late to hide.
"My lady, you should not be here," said the knight, towering over me.
"I could not stay away," I said, watching the light of the council chamber spill out into the hall. No sound came from within. I stepped back once more to the protection of the pillar and the clinging gloom. With great hesitance, the knight followed.
"Is it finished, then?" I asked.
The knight nodded. "It is."
"That man carries our fates in his satchel," I said. "You will tell me."
"I cannot," he said, bowing his head. "I am sorry."
"I would hear it from you," I said. Boldly, I touched his unshaven jaw.
So solemn, the knight rested his hand upon mine. "Princess, you are to marry."
The knowledge weighed heavy with sorrow. Gently, his arm went about me as I trembled, and together we stood in the shadow, bound then, forever, by the sealing of my fate.