Dragon Journal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonjournal) wrote2013-09-30 03:07 pm
dragonjournal) wrote2013-09-30 03:07 pm
Entry tags:
Original Works, Bingo edition #1
Title: The Beginning
Rating: PG
Word count: 2600-ish
Summary: The Prince chooses his First Concubine and a girl plays with lights.
Warnings: None
Prompt: Magic
Beta: None
Notes: Kiera-verse
Her fingers rose, cupping the light into her palm. Kiera smiles. Her eyes remain trained on the ball of light. The warmth tickles her skin and raises goosebumps on her arm. Her other hand rises, taking a piece of the light and transferring it to her other palm.
She takes a deep breath and blows the light away from her, watching it scatter into a sunbeam that shines through the window. Fingers flex and the motes of light meander back to her. “Come along…” She encourages quietly.
The lights shoot back, dancing around the tips of her fingers. Giggling, she flexes her fingers again and slowly draws in the air. First something simple, a shape. Then, she draws a flower, and then finally signs her name. Another giggle escapes her and she gathers up the light again. Spinning in a circle, she lets it flow out around, creating a vortex of light around her.
She swirls her fingers through the light, creating patterns in it and the shadows it casts. Dancing around her little area, more and more light joins the tiny motes she’s managed to gather. Kiera is careful, making sure that there isn’t too much. Blowing up the house would not please her father.
Her bare feet tap against the wood flooring as she dances around the room. The light trails after her, her own little parade of beauty. She skips around the table, bumping into the chair and rattling it. Kiera freezes in place, listening to see if someone would be angry about that.
When no admonishment comes, Kiera goes back to dancing again. Her fingers brush through the light at regular intervals, keeping it in her control. She hums to herself, a slow ballad that she’d heard outside the local pub when fetching her brother one evening.
Spinning on her toes, Kiera starts the evening meal. It won’t be much – her brother and father have drunk the money again – but it’ll be enough to keep them from starving, while the men of the house drink. Skipping back and forth, she drags the light with her.
Twirling in place, she hears the clap of hands and stops, her hands over her mouth. The light scatters, running away from her lost control. Her hair settles around her shoulders. A young boy stands in the doorway. She’s never seen fabrics as rich as he’s wearing. He can’t be but a few years older than her own thirteen.
Not knowing what to do, Kiera drops into a wobbly curtsey. Out here on the borders, it usually isn’t an issue and isn’t something that needs to be learned. Everyone is far more concerned with survival than with rank. She couldn’t even point out their Lord, though she knows she’s seen him.
“Why did you stop?” The boy pushes off the doorway and saunters inside, self-assured in a way that most aren’t.
Kiera takes a step back, her eyes wide. She doesn’t know what to say to the boy. He’s obviously from wealth, and probably far outranks her. Kiera doesn’t speak to many. Everyone around here know her, because of the golden-silver hair that she has, and how her mother died. “Y-you frightened me, my lord.” She finally manages a quivering whisper.
He cocks his head to the side and studies her. “Can you do it again?” He asks, watching her with bright green eyes. His curly black hair flops into his face. He tucks it back, revealing the half-healed scratch on his cheek. “The lights?”
Kiera swallows against the nervous bile crawling up her throat. She licks her lips and looks around. She isn’t sure she should. Her father told her that she’d get into trouble for doing such things; the villagers would burn her at the stake for daring doing something so evil. Now, she’s caught and this boy – who obviously outranks her – wants her to continue. “I-I can try.” She whispers.
Drawing in a deep breath, Kiera walks toward the window again. Her fingers curl around a tiny piece of sunbeam that filters through the clouds and into the room. She closes her eyes and concentrates. If she is too nervous, or not sure of what she’s doing, Kiera has found that the lights don’t obey her, nor are they kind. A nasty burn scar on her arm reminds her of this, as does the small black mark behind the stove.
Her fingers curl around the small ball of light. Kiera steps away from the window, carrying the light with her. It warms her palm, dancing just above her skin. The warmth is comforting for now. Her fingers flex and she splits the light into two, carrying a piece in each palm.
This time when she blows it away, it comes back quicker. She doesn’t have to concentrate nearly as hard, either. But still, her caution is high. If she burns down the house, her family will have nothing and they barely have anything now.
Kiera swirls them through the air again. The joy creeps back, tingling up and down her spine. The song starts in her mind again and she sways through the room, trailing the lights after her. In a moment, she’s once again dancing, oblivious to her audience. She wants to just dance in the sun, but there’s chores to see to.
“It’s so beautiful.”
Brought back to reality with a crash, Kiera starts and the lights explode in little pops in the air. She sucks in a breath and curtsies again, hoping that now he’ll go away, and she can return to doing dinner. Her father and brother will be home in the next hour or so and she doesn’t want them to have to wait.
“Thank you.” Her voice quavers, wanting him to leave.
“Where are your parents?” He asks, pulling out a chair and settling into it.
Kiera fetches him a mug of the gentle beer that she’s allowed to drink, not having anything better for such an exalted guest. “My father and brother should return in the next hour from the forest.” She doesn’t know what they do, but it brings in a few meager coins for her to buy food with, and that’s all that matters. Once in a while, they even bring back an animal to eat – those nights, they feast.
He sips the beer and pulls a face. Her cheeks heat. It isn’t proper beer for anyone to drink, but it serves her well enough. Kiera looks down at her filthy feet and fidgets where she stands.
“They will be back sooner than that. All the workers are being called in.”
The giant bell at the center of town rings out, tolling the call back to town. She jumps, wondering what is so important to call them in. “I need to be in town when they come.” She isn’t sure what to say or why this obviously nobleborn boy is in her home.
The house is clean and well cared for. The table shines with beeswax and the force of her scrubbing that she does every night. The shutters are all open, allowing in light, so the drab fabrics are given some life. Curtains that were once green close off the sleeping area from prying eyes. She had nothing to be ashamed of, but she couldn’t help but worry that he judged her on the lack of things around here.
He stands and leaves his tankard where it is. Then, he bows and offers her his arm. Kiera hesitates, not knowing how to slip away, without causing herself and her family undue harm. Her dirty fingers slide against his pristine fabric and she almost winces, knowing the stains she’s going to be leaving.
Outside, people gather in the town square. The ringing of the bell is a big deal. The smaller bells send people to the fields and call them in; the huge one – the one that rings so deep it can be felt in bones for miles around – only rings during an emergency. It had rung the night her mother had died, but she barely remembers.
People murmur, staring at her openly. They gossip behind hands, probably judging her for being around the noble and suggesting things she’d never do.
“This is where I must leave you. Father needs me to attend him.” The boy’s soft voice ghosts against her cheek. He bends over her fingers and brushes his lips against them, before turning and following a soldier toward an encampment on the edge of town.
“Kiera!” The hissed admonishment makes her flinch. It’s not her father, but worse: the baker’s wife. Ever since her mother had died, the baker’s wife had taken it upon herself to make sure Kiera grew up “properly”. “Kiera, what have you done?”
Kiera stares down at the hard-packed brown earth under her feet. Her big toe digs a divot while she tries to answer the woman’s question. “He came into my house. I was just dancing.” She finally explains. “Nothing happened. I gave him beer and he talked to me.” Had she “ruined” herself as she’d heard other girls had done?
“You’re sure he didn’t touch you?” The baker’s wife hisses again. “Nowhere?”
Kiera nods. “He offered me his arm and then kissed my fingers. I swear that’s all.” She tries to sound confident, but truth is that the baker’s wife scares her. She’s the only woman to even care about Kiera since her mother’s desk. It doesn’t help that she always smells like baked goods that Kiera can’t possibly afford.
“Good. Go find your father like a good girl.” The baker’s wife gives her a gentle shove in the right direction.
Kiera slips through the crowd and finds her father and brother. Both already have tankards in their hands and she’s going to have to fetch them from the tavern tonight she just knows it. Sighing, she folds her hands in front of her and waits to see what is so important to curtail the workday.
Trumpets blow somewhere and a drum beats. Everyone in the square dips their head and goes to the ground, either on one knee or into a deep curtsey. Kiera notices that she’s not the only child trying to catch a glance of whoever has come. Whoever they are, they’re more important than the Lord that passes through every once in a while.
She sees the boy step up on the platform with an older man that she’s sure she’s seen before, but can’t remember where.
“It’s the king.”
“The king has come.”
Her eyes widen and she forcibly stares at the ground. The King! What is he doing here? As one, the villagers rise.
“My good citizens, it is a pleasure to be here, watching as you work and live along a border that has been long neglected.” His voice carries on the wind to all of them. “No more shall it be neglected. I will be dedicating a full company of troops to stop the tragedies of which I have heard along this border. The loss of any life saddens me, to know that my people have been out here fighting for their lives and without the protection of the crown. No more.”
Everyone remains silent. Kiera doesn’t know what this means. She’s confused. They have the Lord’s soldiers, but they haven’t been effective against anything in years. They manage to keep the people safe during the day, but there are things in the forest that roam at night.
“My son, the Heir, has also informed me of a momentous decision.” The crowd stirs slightly, murmuring amongst themselves. “He has chosen his first concubine from amongst all of you.” The murmurs become a rumble, and someone calls out, demanding a name.
Kiera slides behind her father, watching the King quell the crowd. “That will be determined later. For now, return to your homes. My men will be coming around and offering food from the royal stocks.” Everyone bustles away from the square, not wanting to miss their portion. Even her father and brother follow her home.
Inside, she fetches them beer and works on dinner again. With the King’s portion, she will be able to stretch everything further and maybe even put some back for the colder months. Humming to herself, she doesn’t listen to her father talking and is startled at the cleared throat in the doorway.
A dripping spoon in her hand, she turns around and then dips into a curtsey again. The liquid crawls down the spoon handle toward her hand. It’s going to burn her in a moment. “Please, return to your work, young lady.”
Kiera realizes he means her and turns back to her stove. She stirs the pot, hoping that some of the King’s portion includes root vegetables of some sort. The stew won’t be thick, but it will serve. For them. She can’t possibly feed this to the King.
“You want her?”
Her attention is grabbed by the shocked tone of her father’s voice. She turns to look at the men gathered around the table. Her father and brother look so drab compared to the King and his knight that stands by the door.
“My son does, yes. We’re prepared to offer you compensation, of course, and she will be put up in the Royal Harem, learn everything necessary for her to be a concubine to the future King.” The King sounds sure of what he’s saying, but she can’t believe it.
She stares at the stew, stirring slowly. Concubine for the future King. She could learn to read, and perhaps learn more about her abilities. She would be able to live in the capitol and travel on the Prince’s behest. The cost would be her life and servitude. It would be so much better than marrying anyone out here. “Father, I want to.” Kiera turns from her work. “Your Majesty, the honor your son shows me is great.” She dips into a deep curtsey again, wanting to leave this place and get away from the slavery that she’s in.
She looks up and sees the hatred and frustration on her father’s face. If the King doesn’t take her, there’s a beating in her future.
“Take her.” The growl comes from her brother and she snaps her head around to look at him. “Brat isn’t worth anything to us, here. Take her.” He drains his tankard.
“She must leave this evening.” The King finally turns to look at her with the same green eyes as his son. “Gather your things, young lady. We leave in a moment.”
Kiera dashes toward her sleeping area in the loft. She scampers up the ladder and looks around the tiny area. There isn’t much to gather. Her mother’s quilt, the one necklace her mother had worn, her spare dress. That’s it. A pitiful pile to take with her. She wraps everything in the quilt, pulling the necklace over her head, hiding it under her dress. She’d told her father that she’d sold it long ago.
Crawling down, she stiffens at the feeling of hands at her waist. She looks down and the knight winks at her from under his helmet. He sets her on her feet and returns to his station. “I’m ready.” The words are breathless, full of hope, wonder and excitement.
“Say your good-byes.” The King commands.
She glances at her father and her brother. The younger man nods and his eyes tell her everything she needs to know. Her father just gets up and reaches for the strong liquor that he hides from her. “They’ve been said, Your Majesty.” She barely sees the nod the King gives her. Then she walks out the door toward a different life.
Rating: PG
Word count: 2600-ish
Summary: The Prince chooses his First Concubine and a girl plays with lights.
Warnings: None
Prompt: Magic
Beta: None
Notes: Kiera-verse
Her fingers rose, cupping the light into her palm. Kiera smiles. Her eyes remain trained on the ball of light. The warmth tickles her skin and raises goosebumps on her arm. Her other hand rises, taking a piece of the light and transferring it to her other palm.
She takes a deep breath and blows the light away from her, watching it scatter into a sunbeam that shines through the window. Fingers flex and the motes of light meander back to her. “Come along…” She encourages quietly.
The lights shoot back, dancing around the tips of her fingers. Giggling, she flexes her fingers again and slowly draws in the air. First something simple, a shape. Then, she draws a flower, and then finally signs her name. Another giggle escapes her and she gathers up the light again. Spinning in a circle, she lets it flow out around, creating a vortex of light around her.
She swirls her fingers through the light, creating patterns in it and the shadows it casts. Dancing around her little area, more and more light joins the tiny motes she’s managed to gather. Kiera is careful, making sure that there isn’t too much. Blowing up the house would not please her father.
Her bare feet tap against the wood flooring as she dances around the room. The light trails after her, her own little parade of beauty. She skips around the table, bumping into the chair and rattling it. Kiera freezes in place, listening to see if someone would be angry about that.
When no admonishment comes, Kiera goes back to dancing again. Her fingers brush through the light at regular intervals, keeping it in her control. She hums to herself, a slow ballad that she’d heard outside the local pub when fetching her brother one evening.
Spinning on her toes, Kiera starts the evening meal. It won’t be much – her brother and father have drunk the money again – but it’ll be enough to keep them from starving, while the men of the house drink. Skipping back and forth, she drags the light with her.
Twirling in place, she hears the clap of hands and stops, her hands over her mouth. The light scatters, running away from her lost control. Her hair settles around her shoulders. A young boy stands in the doorway. She’s never seen fabrics as rich as he’s wearing. He can’t be but a few years older than her own thirteen.
Not knowing what to do, Kiera drops into a wobbly curtsey. Out here on the borders, it usually isn’t an issue and isn’t something that needs to be learned. Everyone is far more concerned with survival than with rank. She couldn’t even point out their Lord, though she knows she’s seen him.
“Why did you stop?” The boy pushes off the doorway and saunters inside, self-assured in a way that most aren’t.
Kiera takes a step back, her eyes wide. She doesn’t know what to say to the boy. He’s obviously from wealth, and probably far outranks her. Kiera doesn’t speak to many. Everyone around here know her, because of the golden-silver hair that she has, and how her mother died. “Y-you frightened me, my lord.” She finally manages a quivering whisper.
He cocks his head to the side and studies her. “Can you do it again?” He asks, watching her with bright green eyes. His curly black hair flops into his face. He tucks it back, revealing the half-healed scratch on his cheek. “The lights?”
Kiera swallows against the nervous bile crawling up her throat. She licks her lips and looks around. She isn’t sure she should. Her father told her that she’d get into trouble for doing such things; the villagers would burn her at the stake for daring doing something so evil. Now, she’s caught and this boy – who obviously outranks her – wants her to continue. “I-I can try.” She whispers.
Drawing in a deep breath, Kiera walks toward the window again. Her fingers curl around a tiny piece of sunbeam that filters through the clouds and into the room. She closes her eyes and concentrates. If she is too nervous, or not sure of what she’s doing, Kiera has found that the lights don’t obey her, nor are they kind. A nasty burn scar on her arm reminds her of this, as does the small black mark behind the stove.
Her fingers curl around the small ball of light. Kiera steps away from the window, carrying the light with her. It warms her palm, dancing just above her skin. The warmth is comforting for now. Her fingers flex and she splits the light into two, carrying a piece in each palm.
This time when she blows it away, it comes back quicker. She doesn’t have to concentrate nearly as hard, either. But still, her caution is high. If she burns down the house, her family will have nothing and they barely have anything now.
Kiera swirls them through the air again. The joy creeps back, tingling up and down her spine. The song starts in her mind again and she sways through the room, trailing the lights after her. In a moment, she’s once again dancing, oblivious to her audience. She wants to just dance in the sun, but there’s chores to see to.
“It’s so beautiful.”
Brought back to reality with a crash, Kiera starts and the lights explode in little pops in the air. She sucks in a breath and curtsies again, hoping that now he’ll go away, and she can return to doing dinner. Her father and brother will be home in the next hour or so and she doesn’t want them to have to wait.
“Thank you.” Her voice quavers, wanting him to leave.
“Where are your parents?” He asks, pulling out a chair and settling into it.
Kiera fetches him a mug of the gentle beer that she’s allowed to drink, not having anything better for such an exalted guest. “My father and brother should return in the next hour from the forest.” She doesn’t know what they do, but it brings in a few meager coins for her to buy food with, and that’s all that matters. Once in a while, they even bring back an animal to eat – those nights, they feast.
He sips the beer and pulls a face. Her cheeks heat. It isn’t proper beer for anyone to drink, but it serves her well enough. Kiera looks down at her filthy feet and fidgets where she stands.
“They will be back sooner than that. All the workers are being called in.”
The giant bell at the center of town rings out, tolling the call back to town. She jumps, wondering what is so important to call them in. “I need to be in town when they come.” She isn’t sure what to say or why this obviously nobleborn boy is in her home.
The house is clean and well cared for. The table shines with beeswax and the force of her scrubbing that she does every night. The shutters are all open, allowing in light, so the drab fabrics are given some life. Curtains that were once green close off the sleeping area from prying eyes. She had nothing to be ashamed of, but she couldn’t help but worry that he judged her on the lack of things around here.
He stands and leaves his tankard where it is. Then, he bows and offers her his arm. Kiera hesitates, not knowing how to slip away, without causing herself and her family undue harm. Her dirty fingers slide against his pristine fabric and she almost winces, knowing the stains she’s going to be leaving.
Outside, people gather in the town square. The ringing of the bell is a big deal. The smaller bells send people to the fields and call them in; the huge one – the one that rings so deep it can be felt in bones for miles around – only rings during an emergency. It had rung the night her mother had died, but she barely remembers.
People murmur, staring at her openly. They gossip behind hands, probably judging her for being around the noble and suggesting things she’d never do.
“This is where I must leave you. Father needs me to attend him.” The boy’s soft voice ghosts against her cheek. He bends over her fingers and brushes his lips against them, before turning and following a soldier toward an encampment on the edge of town.
“Kiera!” The hissed admonishment makes her flinch. It’s not her father, but worse: the baker’s wife. Ever since her mother had died, the baker’s wife had taken it upon herself to make sure Kiera grew up “properly”. “Kiera, what have you done?”
Kiera stares down at the hard-packed brown earth under her feet. Her big toe digs a divot while she tries to answer the woman’s question. “He came into my house. I was just dancing.” She finally explains. “Nothing happened. I gave him beer and he talked to me.” Had she “ruined” herself as she’d heard other girls had done?
“You’re sure he didn’t touch you?” The baker’s wife hisses again. “Nowhere?”
Kiera nods. “He offered me his arm and then kissed my fingers. I swear that’s all.” She tries to sound confident, but truth is that the baker’s wife scares her. She’s the only woman to even care about Kiera since her mother’s desk. It doesn’t help that she always smells like baked goods that Kiera can’t possibly afford.
“Good. Go find your father like a good girl.” The baker’s wife gives her a gentle shove in the right direction.
Kiera slips through the crowd and finds her father and brother. Both already have tankards in their hands and she’s going to have to fetch them from the tavern tonight she just knows it. Sighing, she folds her hands in front of her and waits to see what is so important to curtail the workday.
Trumpets blow somewhere and a drum beats. Everyone in the square dips their head and goes to the ground, either on one knee or into a deep curtsey. Kiera notices that she’s not the only child trying to catch a glance of whoever has come. Whoever they are, they’re more important than the Lord that passes through every once in a while.
She sees the boy step up on the platform with an older man that she’s sure she’s seen before, but can’t remember where.
“It’s the king.”
“The king has come.”
Her eyes widen and she forcibly stares at the ground. The King! What is he doing here? As one, the villagers rise.
“My good citizens, it is a pleasure to be here, watching as you work and live along a border that has been long neglected.” His voice carries on the wind to all of them. “No more shall it be neglected. I will be dedicating a full company of troops to stop the tragedies of which I have heard along this border. The loss of any life saddens me, to know that my people have been out here fighting for their lives and without the protection of the crown. No more.”
Everyone remains silent. Kiera doesn’t know what this means. She’s confused. They have the Lord’s soldiers, but they haven’t been effective against anything in years. They manage to keep the people safe during the day, but there are things in the forest that roam at night.
“My son, the Heir, has also informed me of a momentous decision.” The crowd stirs slightly, murmuring amongst themselves. “He has chosen his first concubine from amongst all of you.” The murmurs become a rumble, and someone calls out, demanding a name.
Kiera slides behind her father, watching the King quell the crowd. “That will be determined later. For now, return to your homes. My men will be coming around and offering food from the royal stocks.” Everyone bustles away from the square, not wanting to miss their portion. Even her father and brother follow her home.
Inside, she fetches them beer and works on dinner again. With the King’s portion, she will be able to stretch everything further and maybe even put some back for the colder months. Humming to herself, she doesn’t listen to her father talking and is startled at the cleared throat in the doorway.
A dripping spoon in her hand, she turns around and then dips into a curtsey again. The liquid crawls down the spoon handle toward her hand. It’s going to burn her in a moment. “Please, return to your work, young lady.”
Kiera realizes he means her and turns back to her stove. She stirs the pot, hoping that some of the King’s portion includes root vegetables of some sort. The stew won’t be thick, but it will serve. For them. She can’t possibly feed this to the King.
“You want her?”
Her attention is grabbed by the shocked tone of her father’s voice. She turns to look at the men gathered around the table. Her father and brother look so drab compared to the King and his knight that stands by the door.
“My son does, yes. We’re prepared to offer you compensation, of course, and she will be put up in the Royal Harem, learn everything necessary for her to be a concubine to the future King.” The King sounds sure of what he’s saying, but she can’t believe it.
She stares at the stew, stirring slowly. Concubine for the future King. She could learn to read, and perhaps learn more about her abilities. She would be able to live in the capitol and travel on the Prince’s behest. The cost would be her life and servitude. It would be so much better than marrying anyone out here. “Father, I want to.” Kiera turns from her work. “Your Majesty, the honor your son shows me is great.” She dips into a deep curtsey again, wanting to leave this place and get away from the slavery that she’s in.
She looks up and sees the hatred and frustration on her father’s face. If the King doesn’t take her, there’s a beating in her future.
“Take her.” The growl comes from her brother and she snaps her head around to look at him. “Brat isn’t worth anything to us, here. Take her.” He drains his tankard.
“She must leave this evening.” The King finally turns to look at her with the same green eyes as his son. “Gather your things, young lady. We leave in a moment.”
Kiera dashes toward her sleeping area in the loft. She scampers up the ladder and looks around the tiny area. There isn’t much to gather. Her mother’s quilt, the one necklace her mother had worn, her spare dress. That’s it. A pitiful pile to take with her. She wraps everything in the quilt, pulling the necklace over her head, hiding it under her dress. She’d told her father that she’d sold it long ago.
Crawling down, she stiffens at the feeling of hands at her waist. She looks down and the knight winks at her from under his helmet. He sets her on her feet and returns to his station. “I’m ready.” The words are breathless, full of hope, wonder and excitement.
“Say your good-byes.” The King commands.
She glances at her father and her brother. The younger man nods and his eyes tell her everything she needs to know. Her father just gets up and reaches for the strong liquor that he hides from her. “They’ve been said, Your Majesty.” She barely sees the nod the King gives her. Then she walks out the door toward a different life.