nathanialroyale: (Nilec)







Notes: I don't know if this would be considered some spin on Second-person narrative or something but I have never written something with the character addressing an un-named audience in the form of You before. It was interesting.

-------


 

"How can I help you understand?" Joscelin asks of You.

But the King’s eyes flutter closed as he feels Master Riviria lead him through the countless millenniums of memory that Riq’ua possessed. By extension it is not only the two Elves, but You who see this glimpse into this ageless man’s long past in hopes of comprehension.

~

Riq’ua’s hands were clasped before him within the Mellim’disiel, the sacred Elven homeland, and to his left and his right there were rows of gravestones extending even further ahead. A graveyard within a graveyard and his eyes came up and head turned back beyond those gathered individuals to the Blade Dancing Academy through the trees. This grove beyond but yet close to the Academy where Master Sea taught and lived. Eyes returned and he starred at the freshly filled grave with simple headstone above it, sadness acute within the air from those presented. For there was no shame or dishonor in sadness in Blade Dancing tradition, it was believed that we should feel sorrow, but not sink under its oppression. There was a time to mourn and that was now.

-
Arrathian

(Blade Dancer)

&

Reliniel

(Vitin’e)

6546 Perditus
-

A single grave, a single grave marker and Riq’ua stepped back from the grave-site and he put up his hand and those that filtered into the picture by stepping forward bowed with him swords laid horizontally flat in the Blade Dancer’s formal bow. Nearly all of these Elves wore leathers and their blades were the Nyamase Miljem, they Blade Dancers. But speckled amongst them were Elven clerics, Elven mages, scholars and it could be seen also that a even few humans of different professions dotted this crowd who honored these two in death.

"We stand before the grave of a Protector and his Protected. But that is to simple, too plain. We are here honouring the love of two bonded, an Elf man and a human woman. As Elves and Blade Dancers both we feel more keenly the loss of our brother and the woman that he loved."

And Riq’ua through this memory allows You to feel what he meant by the gravity of those words. Just the tiniest sliver blossomed, for more then a splinter to un accustomed minds could be dangerous to fragile chalices. The webbing of the mind, the links that ran from the Blade Dancing Grand Master and branched out like tree roots and webs to his Blade Dancers, from the Blade Dancers to the students, and from Blade Dancers to their mates. From those outer edges it looped back, for all the mates were connected to one another through the students and Blade Dancers too.

"The loss of one life is like a trickle, and with each life this trickle grows stronger, for no life is more precious then another. We are all each other’s sworn brothers, fathers, lovers and friends. To live is to suffer, but to die, is to protect."

~

The gravestones are slow to fade away and Joscelin tries one last time to explain, a clear desperation at last in depths of lavender as they opened to once again look at You.

"We were always connected and we loved the mates of our Masters and our brothers.  Can You now begin to comprehend our loneliness? That Riq’ua and I are the last? The grieving that I fought through as I lead my brethren into War and felt, Oh by the Goddess of Mercy! Felt  inside the tearing of the roots from a great and ancient tree? The webbing cut from Our mind, Our Heart, Our Soul! We honored and respected, nay, we loved them, brethren and mate alike for they had been chosen by a Blade Dancer ire regardless of them being Elven or human. To be the mate of a Blade Dancer bonded them to us all."

It was the strength and the weakness of the Blade Dancers, the ability to move and act with one purpose and one mind. But to feel also the shocking pain and death of each and everyone of your brothers-in-arms. To feel too the overwhelming grief of the mate of the man lost to the beyond pulling you down to drown. The reasons the Blade Dancers had been respected and feared for millennial but in one savage war nearly lost everything.

"We were Connected."

nathanialroyale: (Nathan)


Rating: (G)
Warnings: None.
Content Notes: It is the first snow's fall and the first time that Kallion, Mallie and Raunien have ever seen snow.
Kallion is 4, Joscelin is 3 and Mallie is 2. Raunien is 6 months.


--


Kallion gave an excited cry and small fingers pointed out through the castle window at the white that was falling from the skies.  Mallie, who had slept beside him in the crib as neither toddler would sleep away from each other when they were in the same place, blinked sleeping dust from her eyes.

The Princess’s green eyes widened seeing fluff of white as she had never seen before, being from the northern desert lands. Joscelin laughed and clapped his hands seeing the snow, the one who although a toddler in body was an adult in the mind. The heir was a reborn Elvish soul who was the eldest in spirit and cared for his brothers and cousin like his own after their mother’s death. The nursing maid looked out at the morning, “Well, very well then.  Get ye all some food and get ye all dressed for the cold. Then ye can see the snow.”

Mallie at two years old clung to Kallion’s side feeling his protection and overwhelmed by the new experience. Her hand had snow on its palm and she stared at it wide eyed in wonder. This was the first time she, Kallion and Raunien had ever seen the snow. Kallion at four had his white angel wing around Mallie holding her to his side instinctively protective laughing as the snow fell onto his tongue. The youngest, baby Raunien made noises and scrunched his nose swaddled in the nurse maid’s arms. Joscelin toddled his way to a bank of snow and began to compact it.

“Kally! Come here, bring Mallie!”

Kallion tilted his head but he helped Mallie through the snow on her little legs and Joscelin showed them how to compact the fluff into a big ball. Together they would make a miniature snowman with Joscelin giving the instructions as Mallie and Kallion were very quiet, scared children. Then he would pick up more of the white and toss it at Mallie who shrilly squeaked! She made a face before throwing some back at him. “Na Nice!”

Joscelin laughed and it soon turned into the three tossing hand falls of snow before falling together into the snow banks.  Mallie laughed alongside Joscelin and even scarred Kallion giggled with abandon in the first winter’s snow.



nathanialroyale: (Dance)


“I do not need your protection anymore!”

The words echoed off the cold stone of the royal bedroom, the argument that had proceeded them seemed pity in light of the sentence that punched the King of Camar’a and left him breathless. That was what Joscelin was; a protector. Everything he wanted to be, could ever be was wrapped within the blades he used to protect his family, his kingdom and his people.

Silence filled hollow wounds, Rene’s eyes afire with contention, starring at the man that he had married three years ago. Royalty; they both were, and the marriage had been arranged. They had come into this hoping for love, but everything fell apart, and Rene still knew he was to blame. The vampire flinched as the quiet became oppressive, and he buried his face into his hands. Again! Again I fall into the traps of who I used to be. Again, I wound him, let loose the temper I had sworn to hold in.

“Joscelin…”

The Elvish King shook his head, the quick motion attempting to hold back the tearing of his heart that was so very visible in lavender eyes.

“Then I am of no use to you,” Joscelin’s arms folded over his chest in the traditional style as he gave the Blade Dancing bow, his face a mask of ice. Rene reached out toward the other though a table was between them both and the Elf shook his head once again. Rene’s lips opened in vain, but he let his eyes close. How can I make this right? Every time we speak, we fight, we have nearly killed each other through our love. How many times am I going to be sorry?

Blood stung in his eyes as the tears collected moist as he watched Joscelin step around him, no words between them now.

Regrets, so many regrets…

“Don’t protect me! Fight beside me Joscelin!” The words rushed with raw passion past pale lips, turning in a flash of vampire speed, his hand gripping Joscelin’s shoulder.

“You say I see you as prey, that you want to be my equal! Then we should be equals both. No possessiveness, no protectiveness, side by side, Joscelin! I say the wrong things, but I do not want to give up on this, on us!”

Joscelin had froze when his shoulder was gripped and a sigh left him,”Partners?”

“Yes, friends perhaps, someday. I do not ask for your love after what I have done, but together we are stronger then apart. Fight with me.”

Joscelin turned with sad smile,”I’ve been trying you stubborn vampire. But very well, again. We will learn to fight together, not against each other. I hope.”

Rene grips the shoulder harder,”Thank you. For another chance.” Again. What try was this? The sixth? The seventh? He could no longer remember…Let it be the last.

Please.

nathanialroyale: (Arwen)
Title: Joscelin`s Story
Rating: (PG-13)
Content Notes/Warnings: This is long! The sayings are either Buddhist, Confucius or made by me, they are a show of Blade Dancing Philosophy.

Joscelin Quele is in the novels largely referenced as Nathanial`s son and the next heir to the throne, however he is far more complicated then that. He has lived two lives, one of war where he was a General on the battlefield unable to ever come to his loved ones, and one where he grew up with scars of not only his last life but the past of Nathanial his mother. It shaped him into the man he is in the novels, and I have always wanted to map out his entire life.

Mentions of Violence/Death

Main Character/s: Joscelin Quele, Wil'helm, Nathanial Peter Quele Royale, and many others.
Plot: Two lifetimes written out in 5,145 words.
Location: illander Castle, Dire Cry, The Border Forest.




Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.


Joscelin had lived in the Mellimel’disiel for all of his short years; he had been born upon the wooden table in the Esittä Clar'gyse. The Sacred place where the elves had been once long ago shaped from the very trees of the forest and given life and shared their first meal together. Joscelin had not been close to his parents of flesh, Tarja and Adair. The throne kept them away, and so the boy was raised by the Elder trees. Joscelin had danced for those trees, learned to sing from the Sacred Elder trees that moved; casting radiance of purple and blue from their leaves upon the elf child in their midst. The beating of the Elder trees hearts sang in the boy’s blood and he had joy.


Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them-that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward unimpeded, like a river to the sea.



It began with a goodbye. Whispered words of encouragement, farewell and love, and pushed away toward a place that made him shy away. He was 20 when his parents left him at the Blade Dancing Academy. There was too much death in the place, sorrow and suffering, which he could not understand. The trees here did not sing, they did not speak, and their hearts could not beat. Joscelin had been torn from a world where spirits and trees sang, and breathed with life to a place of death. He recoiled the first time his fingertips touched the wood of the Academy, for the trees that made this place had cried! They had wailed; they had been filled with agony! This was not right, not right at all. His skin crawled and he cried as the older men persuaded him to come inside. Why were the trees hurting so much? Why did they not speak? Not sing? Joscelin knew nothing of death, and of sorrow, but he would learn.


More Behind the Cut )
nathanialroyale: (Scream)

Title: Blood and Nature
Prompt: Hunger
Rating: (PG-13)
Content Notes/Warnings: 16 years after the novels, Joscelin has recently been crowned King and has been forced into an arranged marriage for Peace to marry Jay, a vampire from the north lands he despises. No Warnings.

Vampires in my novels were originally created from torturing elves in hell for many centuries, the older vampires too strong to go on remained as spirits. These spirits can inhabit people’s bodies turning them into vampires, but the bloodlines also continued like a blood disease from the eldest. Because vampires were once elves they are hated in the very bone of most elf kind. Coupled with elvish immunity to infections and disease it makes it so that Elves cannot be turned into vampires. Elvish vampires are not 'supposed' to exist.

Main Character/s: Fa, Joscelin Quele Ante, Jay James Red Rose Quele Cross. Mentions of Nathanial Peter Quele Royale, Mentions of Damion Ante
Plot: After the novels, Joscelin an elf has recently been crowned King and has been forced in an arranged marriage for Peace to marry Jay, a vampire from the north lands he despises.
Location: illander Castle, Capitol of Camar'a.




Spinning the figure at arm’s length back to his body, Fa watched through the black and silver fringed mask. Did the young man realize who it was he danced with? Did the feel of another cold hand give memory to his dance partner of what he was?

Fa knew who it was he danced with, the masks were meant on this night to give an allure of mystery, but for some this was a useless endeavor. The one whose body was mere inches from his own was the newly crowned King Joscelin, son of the Boy-King Nathanial. The smell of the pine trees of his people and the soft undertone of rose soap alongside the leather of his usual ranger outfit was telltale. He knew with whom he danced, but did this young Elfling?

 



nathanialroyale: (Masquerade)
Title: 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.

More Story Inside )

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