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aishuu, I wrote Darkangel trilogy fic for you! It's about Irrylath roughly two decades after the ending, and it has lots of reference to Aeriel.
Unfortunately, it is also fairly depressing and contains implied preparation for suicide, though nobody actually dies within the bounds of the story. I was trying to do a 'reunited lovers' thing, but apparently my subconscious does not want to impose a standard happy ending on Pierce's story. *shrug* (400 words)
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That Which We Are, We Are Forever
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It took Irrylath nearly a decade to realize he had stopped ageing.
Sabr noticed first -- she noticed everything about him, almost obsessively. Sometimes he found her attention suffocating, but mostly he welcomed it. He used her love to bind himself to his life and his land. He used her sensitivity to his slightest quirks to correct his thoughts and actions when he drifted away from compassion and justice. He used their children to remind himself he was human.
Irrylath wondered at first why Sabr had refrained from mentioning his frozen appearance. Then he laughed, bitterly. Of course she had held her tongue. She wanted him normal, living, only marked out by human honors: king, general, hero. Sabr wanted no part of darkness or magic. She abhorred the icarus. She suppressed Oriencor's incestuous son. She denied Aeriel's heart-bound husband.
But time flows only forward. No transformation can be perfectly reversed. No rebirth leaves a man without scars.
Aeriel had given him her heart to make him human. Then she had given him back his own, freed from its leaden prison. She had given him life to fill his empty veins. She had given him hope to water his desiccated soul. She had given him love to light his midnight world.
But she couldn't take away the years Oriencor had spent shaping his body. She couldn't take away his memories -- couldn't erase his body's memory of magic, power, stasis. His body knew the trick of immortality, and somewhere in the final battle, some of the Ancients' magic had seeped from Winterock into him and followed the pattern his vampire years had laid down in his bones.
Irrylath was not ageing. His blood was cooling. Last daymonth, he found silver in his hair and a black feather in his sheets.
Sabr still said nothing, but she gathered their children close. Now that he knew he was changing, Irrylath realized she had not left them alone with him for over a year. He saw that she no longer smiled with her heart and soul, but only with her teeth.
Their eldest son was seventeen, as old as Irrylath when Aeriel restored him to life. That was old enough to do a man's work, to shoulder a king's burden.
Irrylath left his crown in his empty room and walked into the desert, alone. Either Aeriel and her sword-sister would find him and fix him, or he would force the Pendarlon to slay him before more of Oriencor's poison could return to his veins.
He had died before, years ago. He was not afraid to die again.
He only hoped to see Aeriel once more before he closed his eyes forever.
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Inspired by the 8/4/09![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15_minute_fic word #118: change
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In other news, I still hate writing Hagrid, but I have successfully gotten the tea poured and Ginny's moved from talking about guilt and Tom to talking about the Hogwarts grounds, so I think I see a light at the end of the tunnel? *crosses fingers*
aishuu, I wrote Darkangel trilogy fic for you! It's about Irrylath roughly two decades after the ending, and it has lots of reference to Aeriel.Unfortunately, it is also fairly depressing and contains implied preparation for suicide, though nobody actually dies within the bounds of the story. I was trying to do a 'reunited lovers' thing, but apparently my subconscious does not want to impose a standard happy ending on Pierce's story. *shrug* (400 words)
---------------------------------------------
That Which We Are, We Are Forever
---------------------------------------------
It took Irrylath nearly a decade to realize he had stopped ageing.
Sabr noticed first -- she noticed everything about him, almost obsessively. Sometimes he found her attention suffocating, but mostly he welcomed it. He used her love to bind himself to his life and his land. He used her sensitivity to his slightest quirks to correct his thoughts and actions when he drifted away from compassion and justice. He used their children to remind himself he was human.
Irrylath wondered at first why Sabr had refrained from mentioning his frozen appearance. Then he laughed, bitterly. Of course she had held her tongue. She wanted him normal, living, only marked out by human honors: king, general, hero. Sabr wanted no part of darkness or magic. She abhorred the icarus. She suppressed Oriencor's incestuous son. She denied Aeriel's heart-bound husband.
But time flows only forward. No transformation can be perfectly reversed. No rebirth leaves a man without scars.
Aeriel had given him her heart to make him human. Then she had given him back his own, freed from its leaden prison. She had given him life to fill his empty veins. She had given him hope to water his desiccated soul. She had given him love to light his midnight world.
But she couldn't take away the years Oriencor had spent shaping his body. She couldn't take away his memories -- couldn't erase his body's memory of magic, power, stasis. His body knew the trick of immortality, and somewhere in the final battle, some of the Ancients' magic had seeped from Winterock into him and followed the pattern his vampire years had laid down in his bones.
Irrylath was not ageing. His blood was cooling. Last daymonth, he found silver in his hair and a black feather in his sheets.
Sabr still said nothing, but she gathered their children close. Now that he knew he was changing, Irrylath realized she had not left them alone with him for over a year. He saw that she no longer smiled with her heart and soul, but only with her teeth.
Their eldest son was seventeen, as old as Irrylath when Aeriel restored him to life. That was old enough to do a man's work, to shoulder a king's burden.
Irrylath left his crown in his empty room and walked into the desert, alone. Either Aeriel and her sword-sister would find him and fix him, or he would force the Pendarlon to slay him before more of Oriencor's poison could return to his veins.
He had died before, years ago. He was not afraid to die again.
He only hoped to see Aeriel once more before he closed his eyes forever.
---------------------------------------------
Inspired by the 8/4/09
15_minute_fic word #118: change---------------------------------------------
In other news, I still hate writing Hagrid, but I have successfully gotten the tea poured and Ginny's moved from talking about guilt and Tom to talking about the Hogwarts grounds, so I think I see a light at the end of the tunnel? *crosses fingers*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-07 04:20 am (UTC)Well, random other things that don't have big fandoms (or any fandom at all, in some cases) but that I think have potential for interesting fic: Lloyd Alexander's Westmark trilogy or the Chronicles of Prydain; Matthew Stover's Heroes Die duology; Roger Zelazny's Changeling duology or This Immortal (I would love to know about Conrad's previous lives and families); Janny Wurts's Cycle of Fire trilogy (the world-building is crying out to be explored in more depth); Joan D. Vinge's Psion trilogy; Patricia C. Wrede's Enchanted Forest Chronicles (especially genfic about Morwen and/or Kazul, or some Morwen/Telemain); Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast trilogy (Steerpike fascinates me); Eve Forward's Villains By Necessity (Sam is my woobie); Barry Hughart's Chronicles of Master Li and Number Ten Ox; Madeleine L'Engle's Murry-O'Keefe series (specifically A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door, A Swiftly Tilting Planet, and Many Waters, which are my favorites -- I am especially curious about Sandy and Dennys, who are the 'normal' members of the family).
Or, if you read American comics as well as manga, maybe Mike Carey's Lucifer? I love that series so damn much.