[OrigFic] Moving On. (Depression)
Oct. 8th, 2010 03:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nathanialroyaleTitle: Moving on.
Prompt: Depression
Rating: (PG)
Content Notes/Warnings: Follows after When I die lay your head down but move on... 8 years after the novel’s ending.
Warnings: Mentions of Past M-Preg, Past Character Death, Past Under-age Love.
Main Character/s: Damion Ante, Joscelin Quele Ante, mentions of Nathanial Peter Quele Royale
Plot: 8 years after Nathanial’s death, Damion still tries to move on.
Location: illander Castle, Capitol of Camar'a.
“Watch me Papa!”
The untroubled laughter was pure, Damion’s lips curving into a smile as he settled against the wall of the training room. Joscelin always forgot he was blind, but that was due to the old vampire’s ability to still see the blood inside of living creatures, people at the least he could see. Watching through the blood sight his son take the steps and twirl into the air coming down and landing as far as he could tell with limited sight, perfectly.
“You have been training very hard my son,” Damion grinned in the direction of the young form that was wiggling on the spot from the praise.
“Riq’ua has been a very good teacher for you,” Damion continues and Joscelin nods grasping the weighted wooden swords in his hands.
“Tal’Tha’Lass has been helping as well Papa, they have both been teaching me how to Blade Dance, like the Thyl’eal!”
Damion pushed himself from the wall, “You will reclaim your heritage then as a Wood Elf. Show me what else you have been learning while I have slept the days away.”
And wallowed in the nights...
Joscelin excited moved a few steps back and takes the four long steps forward before spinning once, and landing, taking four and going into another spin, which he tried to make longer now. Managing to spin twice he comes down, wobbling on his small legs but manages to right himself.
Damion’s brow cocked upwards and he walked toward his son, “It seems I have missed much. You are learning very quickly. Soon enough you and I will get to spar,” he could not see the smile that bloomed to life on his son’s face.
“I would like that Papa. Very much,” Damion nods ignoring the yearning he could hear in his son’s voice. Hands cupped the small face, thumbs feeling over narrow cheek bones and pointed chin, the characteristics of an elf.
Already 8 years it had been sense Nathanial passed away, Damion had made a promise but had he seen it through? Lord Riq’ua and Tal’Tha’Lass were raising his son, not he. This depression was eating his insides, turning them into a knot and he had wasted 8 years of his beautiful son’s life already by looking to the past not the future.
A drawn out sigh, “I am sorry Joscy.”
Joscelin’s eyes had half closed, “Mother used to always call me that.”
“He did yes. How about we go inside, I have been hearing that you have been reading up on the old war tales of glory and battle? How about you read to me a little, show me how far along you are at that as well.”
“Really?” Joscelin blinked but he nods in his father’s hands, “Alright Papa. Let’s go to the library. I will read to you.”
Damion brought his hands down to find one of his son’s smaller and allowed the Princeling to lead the way, listening contently to his soft chatter. Joscelin was not a vocal boy but Damion knew as he spent so little time with him that he wanted his father to know all that happened in his life. He listened and smiled, nodding to what was being said, wanting him to know he was important.
Joscelin was the last reminder he had of Nathanial, Raunien was being brought up by the barracks as he was a bastard human child, but Joscelin was Nathanial’s heir and his son. Damion wasn’t very good at keeping promises but he knew Nathanial would have forgiven him... All his little love would have wanted was for him to try again. To carry on...
“Papa?”
“Hmm?”
“The nobles talk about Mother sometimes, saying how frail he was, and how little. That he looked like a child too, can you tell me about him?”
“Ah...he was known as the Boy King...Thirteen when he took back the throne, and sixteen when he passed on from this world...”
Damion held himself, letting Joscelin ask his questions and being lead inside toward the Castle library. He answered as best as he could though he did omit, Joscelin was only 10, in time he would learn the full story. In time he would come to understand why his mother had been so strong at such a young age. There was wonder in Joscelin’s voice as he listened to his father speak on, and in the end there was no reading that night. They settled onto a velvet cushioned couch before a fireplace in the castle, Damion spinning the tales of the campaign to win back the throne. Of the deeds Nathanial had done, and the fights that he knew his young son would enjoy.
It was nearly 3 am when his exhausted son fell asleep in his arms and Damion curled him tightly against him allowing his tears to fall again. Blood tears of a vampire. Stroking the silver hair of his only son and living reminder of the boy he had loved and lost.
“Goodnight Joscelin.”
Prompt: Depression
Rating: (PG)
Content Notes/Warnings: Follows after When I die lay your head down but move on... 8 years after the novel’s ending.
Warnings: Mentions of Past M-Preg, Past Character Death, Past Under-age Love.
Main Character/s: Damion Ante, Joscelin Quele Ante, mentions of Nathanial Peter Quele Royale
Plot: 8 years after Nathanial’s death, Damion still tries to move on.
Location: illander Castle, Capitol of Camar'a.
“Watch me Papa!”
The untroubled laughter was pure, Damion’s lips curving into a smile as he settled against the wall of the training room. Joscelin always forgot he was blind, but that was due to the old vampire’s ability to still see the blood inside of living creatures, people at the least he could see. Watching through the blood sight his son take the steps and twirl into the air coming down and landing as far as he could tell with limited sight, perfectly.
“You have been training very hard my son,” Damion grinned in the direction of the young form that was wiggling on the spot from the praise.
“Tal’Tha’Lass has been helping as well Papa, they have both been teaching me how to Blade Dance, like the Thyl’eal!”
Damion pushed himself from the wall, “You will reclaim your heritage then as a Wood Elf. Show me what else you have been learning while I have slept the days away.”
And wallowed in the nights...
Joscelin excited moved a few steps back and takes the four long steps forward before spinning once, and landing, taking four and going into another spin, which he tried to make longer now. Managing to spin twice he comes down, wobbling on his small legs but manages to right himself.
Damion’s brow cocked upwards and he walked toward his son, “It seems I have missed much. You are learning very quickly. Soon enough you and I will get to spar,” he could not see the smile that bloomed to life on his son’s face.
“I would like that Papa. Very much,” Damion nods ignoring the yearning he could hear in his son’s voice. Hands cupped the small face, thumbs feeling over narrow cheek bones and pointed chin, the characteristics of an elf.
Already 8 years it had been sense Nathanial passed away, Damion had made a promise but had he seen it through? Lord Riq’ua and Tal’Tha’Lass were raising his son, not he. This depression was eating his insides, turning them into a knot and he had wasted 8 years of his beautiful son’s life already by looking to the past not the future.
A drawn out sigh, “I am sorry Joscy.”
Joscelin’s eyes had half closed, “Mother used to always call me that.”
“He did yes. How about we go inside, I have been hearing that you have been reading up on the old war tales of glory and battle? How about you read to me a little, show me how far along you are at that as well.”
“Really?” Joscelin blinked but he nods in his father’s hands, “Alright Papa. Let’s go to the library. I will read to you.”
Damion brought his hands down to find one of his son’s smaller and allowed the Princeling to lead the way, listening contently to his soft chatter. Joscelin was not a vocal boy but Damion knew as he spent so little time with him that he wanted his father to know all that happened in his life. He listened and smiled, nodding to what was being said, wanting him to know he was important.
Joscelin was the last reminder he had of Nathanial, Raunien was being brought up by the barracks as he was a bastard human child, but Joscelin was Nathanial’s heir and his son. Damion wasn’t very good at keeping promises but he knew Nathanial would have forgiven him... All his little love would have wanted was for him to try again. To carry on...
“Papa?”
“Hmm?”
“The nobles talk about Mother sometimes, saying how frail he was, and how little. That he looked like a child too, can you tell me about him?”
“Ah...he was known as the Boy King...Thirteen when he took back the throne, and sixteen when he passed on from this world...”
Damion held himself, letting Joscelin ask his questions and being lead inside toward the Castle library. He answered as best as he could though he did omit, Joscelin was only 10, in time he would learn the full story. In time he would come to understand why his mother had been so strong at such a young age. There was wonder in Joscelin’s voice as he listened to his father speak on, and in the end there was no reading that night. They settled onto a velvet cushioned couch before a fireplace in the castle, Damion spinning the tales of the campaign to win back the throne. Of the deeds Nathanial had done, and the fights that he knew his young son would enjoy.
It was nearly 3 am when his exhausted son fell asleep in his arms and Damion curled him tightly against him allowing his tears to fall again. Blood tears of a vampire. Stroking the silver hair of his only son and living reminder of the boy he had loved and lost.
“Goodnight Joscelin.”
