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edenfallingSummary: On the night of her many-times-great niece's birth, Aeriel listens to a storyteller in Pirs. (500 words exactly)
Note: This ficlet was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rosaxx50 as part of a three-sentence meme, in response to the prompt: Darkangel Trilogy, Aeriel. This is not remotely close to three sentences, but I have given up on caring by this point. I'm just writing ficlets. (Well, okay. Not just writing ficlets. I may be terrible at sentence restrictions, but I do all right with word count restrictions. For instance, I don't know if a quintuple drabble is a recognized thing, but if it exists, this is an example. *wry*) [Tumblr crosspost]
[ETA: The AO3 crosspost is now up!]
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When a Princess Royal
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"Long and long ago, in the days when the world was sick, a queen of Esternesse came traveling across the Sea-of-Dust and dwelt for a time in Pirs, where two brothers royal fell in love with her green eyes, her quick wit, and her honor that shone as bright as the Torch. She loved the elder brother in return, and together they had two children, a princess and a prince in whom all Pirs rejoiced," the storyteller said from her perch on the low wall that surrounded the suzerain's garden.
At the back of the modest crowd, Aeriel shifted uneasily in her daycloak, suddenly sure she knew the source of this tale and uncertain whether she wished to hear yet another fractured misrepresentation of everyone she had once loved. It was hard enough to be in Pirs at all, anonymous or not, but she had promised herself at Roshka's death to watch over his family -- which was also hers, though few of her nieces and nephews ever presumed upon their connection.
"But my tale is not of the drought and the witch and the war. No, the tale I share tonight is of what came after, when the princess took her place as Lady of Crystalglass and the prince came home to wake Pirs to new life," the storyteller continued, gesturing toward the suzerain's house that rose white and shining behind her in the blue-green light of Oceanus and the distant beacon of the Torch. "For this past hour a princess was born to our suzerain and her husband!"
Aeriel's breath caught in her throat for a moment, but the gathered people of Pirs cheered and she let the air trickle out in rueful laughter. Pirs had not been the pretty, deceptive prison of her first visit for many generations. Its rulers were well-beloved rather than feared. And yet, the mazy horror of that hungerspice-soaked daymonth and her subsequent living burial still lurked in the depths of her mind, as unfaded as all her other memories despite the weight and wear of years.
Ravenna had done her no favors in that regard.
The storyteller held up her hands, pulling calm and quiet back over the garden. Then she filled the eager silence with her voice: "Tonight we celebrate the House of the Salt Pearl, the house whose first daughter and son were born to save our world. And so I will tell you the tale of Princess Ryllan, youngest daughter of Roshka the Great, who traveled into the wilderness west of Terrain on a quest for the Lady Aeriel, and of the Ancient wonders she found in those broken lands."
Aeriel sat with the rest of the crowd when the storyteller gestured them down onto the lush grass, its soft blades dotted here and there with tiny violet flowers that clung as tight to the ground as the narrow vines that bore them, and dared to hope that Pirs, at least, might still tell her family's story close to truth.
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End of Ficlet
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Now I kind of want to figure out what exactly Aeriel needed done west of Terrain, and why Princess Ryllan was the right person for the job.
Note: This ficlet was written for
rosaxx50 as part of a three-sentence meme, in response to the prompt: Darkangel Trilogy, Aeriel. This is not remotely close to three sentences, but I have given up on caring by this point. I'm just writing ficlets. (Well, okay. Not just writing ficlets. I may be terrible at sentence restrictions, but I do all right with word count restrictions. For instance, I don't know if a quintuple drabble is a recognized thing, but if it exists, this is an example. *wry*) [Tumblr crosspost][ETA: The AO3 crosspost is now up!]
---------------------------------------------
When a Princess Royal
---------------------------------------------
"Long and long ago, in the days when the world was sick, a queen of Esternesse came traveling across the Sea-of-Dust and dwelt for a time in Pirs, where two brothers royal fell in love with her green eyes, her quick wit, and her honor that shone as bright as the Torch. She loved the elder brother in return, and together they had two children, a princess and a prince in whom all Pirs rejoiced," the storyteller said from her perch on the low wall that surrounded the suzerain's garden.
At the back of the modest crowd, Aeriel shifted uneasily in her daycloak, suddenly sure she knew the source of this tale and uncertain whether she wished to hear yet another fractured misrepresentation of everyone she had once loved. It was hard enough to be in Pirs at all, anonymous or not, but she had promised herself at Roshka's death to watch over his family -- which was also hers, though few of her nieces and nephews ever presumed upon their connection.
"But my tale is not of the drought and the witch and the war. No, the tale I share tonight is of what came after, when the princess took her place as Lady of Crystalglass and the prince came home to wake Pirs to new life," the storyteller continued, gesturing toward the suzerain's house that rose white and shining behind her in the blue-green light of Oceanus and the distant beacon of the Torch. "For this past hour a princess was born to our suzerain and her husband!"
Aeriel's breath caught in her throat for a moment, but the gathered people of Pirs cheered and she let the air trickle out in rueful laughter. Pirs had not been the pretty, deceptive prison of her first visit for many generations. Its rulers were well-beloved rather than feared. And yet, the mazy horror of that hungerspice-soaked daymonth and her subsequent living burial still lurked in the depths of her mind, as unfaded as all her other memories despite the weight and wear of years.
Ravenna had done her no favors in that regard.
The storyteller held up her hands, pulling calm and quiet back over the garden. Then she filled the eager silence with her voice: "Tonight we celebrate the House of the Salt Pearl, the house whose first daughter and son were born to save our world. And so I will tell you the tale of Princess Ryllan, youngest daughter of Roshka the Great, who traveled into the wilderness west of Terrain on a quest for the Lady Aeriel, and of the Ancient wonders she found in those broken lands."
Aeriel sat with the rest of the crowd when the storyteller gestured them down onto the lush grass, its soft blades dotted here and there with tiny violet flowers that clung as tight to the ground as the narrow vines that bore them, and dared to hope that Pirs, at least, might still tell her family's story close to truth.
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End of Ficlet
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Now I kind of want to figure out what exactly Aeriel needed done west of Terrain, and why Princess Ryllan was the right person for the job.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-12 10:28 pm (UTC)*nudges you about it*
(It would be so interesting, though, really, Aeriel and her niece interacting in this way.)
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-13 01:41 am (UTC)