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: (Scream)

(I was too poor to get my girlfriend a valentine’s day gift so I wrote her a drabble instead. I couldn’t get my Marvel muses to work so it’s my OC’s instead. Material is heavy but she understood the significance of this. - Jay/Rene begins to understand and let go of the past.)

“I’m meant to; hate them I mean.”

“For what was done to you? Perhaps, it would be an understood response.”

“I feel as though if I do not hate him I am allowing him to win. I’m expected to hate him, supposed to curse his name and scrape goat them both for what happened to me.”

“Do you believe that Rene? Honestly? There is no winning or losing in this, only a wish to go on living. No one else has to live with this pain but you, it is your choice, and yours alone to embrace the suffering of your past and yet go on living.”

“What is the point of scrape-goating? Emile lost his mind to become James, insanity was his excuse. My mother Nilec was told by her Goddess to do what she did, and it was through her not knowing how to comfort Emile that he shattered. If I am not to blame my parents, the ones who were there, the one who abused me then who do I blame? Fate? The Gods?”

“Gods are Gods, and men are men. Gods are blamed often for the follies of man and elf alike, but they sit away making choices and watching events they do not comprehend. Must there be a scrape goat to lessen your pain?”

“No… But I fear having no one to blame but myself.”

“Yourself? Why would you be at the end of that thought Rene? You were the victim of abuse, of a breaking of trust that should never have been violated. You see with time, we as children love our parents unconditionally, but as we grow, we begin to judge them, our illusions of their perfection lost by reality. But it is those that can rise above the rest that go on in time…to forgive them their inadequacy.”

Rene’s brows furrowed his hands clasped hard beneath the wood table, red from the pressure of his fingers pressing down on bare skin.

Lord Riq’ua’s own hands were settled on his lap on the opposite side of the table from the young vampire, “But forgiveness is a higher calling that I would not expect of you until it is your time. Never do I dare assume I can understand your suffering. I am only an ear, a mouth piece of advice for you Rene Durand. You have already come so far from the man James wished you to be, and that is enough for me. You are reborn, and there should be required no further change in yourself perception.”

“I have tried to become a better man, be who Emile was, not James. The man my father used to be. But I would still like to be me.”

“And what are you then?”

Rene laughed a soft sad laugh and he shook his head, white hair falling before albino pink eyes, “That I do not know. There are titles given to me, titles I have taken. But what do they all mean. I am the son of a tyrant, with a mother who is a murderer, a manipulator. I told myself I would be nothing like them, but what did I become? What I feared, what I loathed. Everyone looks to me and still sees James, and for that reason there is a little hate in my heart for my father. I had no choice in this, to be looked at with loathing and judged for my parentage and the blood that runs through my veins. But for no other reasons then those will I give them to judge me. I’m a prince, a vampire of the clan of the Rose; I am a father and a husband.”

“And what of those are the most important to you? I would think the last two.”

“Yes. I’m a father to Siliv before anything else, and a husband to Joscelin, my love for him is still strong with all he has done for me.”

“Then make yourself from that, no one can expect of you more then what you are willing to give Rene. Hatred or love, forgiveness or scrape goating, it is your pain, your past. You know you are the one who makes your own choices and only they who have not taken chances in life can say they wish to die with no regrets. Everyone has regrets, but just do not allow them to keep you from living.”

“Thank you Riq’ua.”

The High Advisor inclined his head to the prince who stood and bowed to him in respect although Rene’s political position was higher and he watched the young vampire leave the library behind, the large room dead now expect for the sounds of the elder elf meditatively breathing.

nathanialroyale: (Hope)
Title: My Iris
Rating: (PG)
Content Notes/Warnings: Fluff, pure and utter Fluff.

No Warnings

Main Character/s: Rapheal Lécuyer, Riq'ua Riviria
Plot: I will show you Rapheal, everyday that I remain at your side how much I love you.
Location: illander Castle, illander City


--


The three tiered aqua and black hat was tipped over Raphael’s face so the sun did not get into his eyes lying against the small grassy hill in the gardens. He was still in his elaborate uniform but he had undone the overcoat that was stripped black, gold and aqua. Relaxed and comfortable as he was, he did not stir, the softest footsteps arriving by his side. Lord Riq’ua was in his white robes which he hiked up so he could go down onto one knee beside the Knight.

“Sir.Raphael? I take it your off duty this afternoon?”

A white linen gloved hand came up quickly to push back the hat so his blue eyes could look up into Aqua that were normally cold but had a pinch of amusement in their depths.

A becoming pink brushed the younger man’s cheeks, “Oui Lord Riq’ua, the King has no need of my services at the present.”


Story Inside )

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