YAY!! I Love you guys!! I waited around ff.net all day Thursday, and I GOT
REVIWS!! I am so happy! And I know that you guys were just being nice
saying that I was such a good wrighter and you had no criticism to give.
*Eats candy that Rosethorn generously gave her* What exactly are "Glomps?"
Not that I'm complaining...Anyway, If you have any suggestions, ya know,
directions the story should go, things you want, Just Tell Me!! I am here
to serve my readers!! Except I am going on a rather unexpected vacation
tomorrow with my bf, Casey,(a.k.a., Carrot Glace, she wrote her Buffy story
for me, YAY!), and will be back on Sunday. Yes, yes, I know, I babble, but
I am just so psyched!! I love you all! We will now return to our regularly
scheduled programming.
Disclaimer: Smith is God. The characters are hers. I'm just having fun with
them. :P
Ok, recap:
I watched half-heartedley as a crutch was handed to the Countess to allow
her to support herself, and began to march beside her in to Athanarel. As
the Palace doors shut ominously behind us, I was unable to keep a small
wince from escaping my emotionless court mask. An unmistakable sense of
foreboding filled my heart as we walked to the courtroom, and I wondered
what Galdaran could possibly have in store for the little Countess limping
beside me.
Now back to our show:
"It couldn't be anything good, to have her brought before him without even time to clean up," I thought regretfully. I would have to make up some tale of the mud, or maybe the rain to excuse the terrible state of my clothes. At least I had my waterproof cloak, that was always wrinkle-less and much more mud-less than the rest of my clothes. "That's what comes from sitting on a speeding horse for 7 hours, even when you know perfectly well that you know you will have to stand in front of the man who had courtiers executed with no other cause than their jewels outshadowed the ones on his somewhat ample girth.
This thought train had carried me and the Countess as far as the Goldenwood doors to the Throne Room, but now, I had to have all my wits about me. As the servants opened the doors, I took a quick survey of all who had duty that day, seeing whether the majority favored me or Galdaran. I was lucky that day. I spied Russav standing next to Tamara in a corner, as well as Trish, and several other old friends of my parents and myself. I would have good support. Looking around for the opposite end of the spectrum, I noticed the Marquise of Merindar, with her abominable children Flauvic and Fialma, standing on the right-hand side of the throne. She always was one to display her obvious relations to the person in power, whoever it happened to be at that moment. I would have to watch out for her if we ever managed to gain the throne.
I heard a small gasp beside me, and risked a glance to the side at the Countess of Tlanth. She seemed overwhelmed with the scale of it all; the grandeur, the richness, the sheer vast size of the domed throne room. My eyes scanned her face, looking for any sign of what she was thinking, and I was shocked at what I found. On her steeley features was wrought an expression of such loathing, such vengeance, that I had never seen the like. Her eyes were like chips of violet ice, and through all the grime of the battlefield a week away, there could be no doubt of her noble, and even royal lines through the Calahanras heritage, if your only knew where to look. I bowed low, petitioner to sovereign, and waited patently for Galdaran to string enough words together for people to believe that he had some semblance of coherent thought.
"So you have won your wager, Shevraeth, eh?" Galdaran stated from the broad flabby mouth of his that somewhat resembled a toad. Now it was my turn to do the acting. "As well, Your Majesty. The dirt, the stretches of boredom...really, had it taken two days more, I could not have supported it, much as I'd regret the damage to my reputation for reneging on a bet." This was going along spectacularly, better than I had hoped. But then came my downfall. Wishing to see how the Countess was taking this, I glanced her way. The instant my eyes latched opon her face, I could not look away. I had thought the look of loathing intense before, but now it was such a pure expression that, were it on any other face than hers, it would look false. The Countess was glaring at Galdaran, GLARING at him, like he was some vile pestilence that should shortly be exterminated, lest it spread to the one who bore the face. And that face, unwashed though it was, were as a sculpture, as the life's work of a master of the craft of marble; for each feature was perfect, and unto every one of those features had been bestowed the light of the very heavens above, for indeed, a fire shone out through her eyes that I, in all my long years at Court, had never seen the like of. I then well knew what Galdran had in store for her, and while I was perfectly aware of the risk to my life it would be were I to be discovered, I swore there and then that I would not, could not, see this fire pass from our Earth. At this point, it was by the purest grace of some divine being that I managed to maintain the Court Mask that was the Courtier's lie, and yet was that which gave us our very existence. I was startled out of my calm revere when Galdran waved his hand at the Countess, and yet I began to edit my very thoughts when I realized how much better she suited name than title. Meliara, that was her name, and it fit her as well as the proverbial Glass Slipper of yore. "Are you certain someone hasn't been making a game of you?" Galdran questioned with a look of disbelief on his face. "That looks like a scullery wench." Here my fists clenched involuntarily, for he that could not see the noble blood running through her veins was indeed blind, and he, therefore, could not see the briefest moment when I let the incompetence of our Monarch pass through my Mask. "I assure you, Your Majesty, this is Lady Meliara Astiar, Countess of Tlanth," I replied, once again regaining control of my face; and though I knew that my eyes were playing their part as windows in to my thoughts, I doubted that Galdran had the wit or want to see where to open the blinds. With a mocking smile that told all to well what he had in store for her, Galdran stated to the entire precession: "I never expected much from that half-mad old man, but this really is rich!" He then made the statement in to an insult most foul, and laughed at Meliara's father in her grimy face. While I forgave them later, at that moment I was infuriated as the rest of the court followed Galdran's suit and laughed. "Cheer up, wench, You'll have your brother soon for company, and your heads will make a nice matched set over the palace gates!" My stomach rose in revolution at the merest thought of what the King was insinuating, and I followed Meliara with my eyes as she was led down to the dungeons and out of my sight, the laughter of the court following her out.
AN: YAY! I'M DONE!! Sorry about all the mellow-dramatic stuff, but I was at the Colorado Shakespeare festival last night, Hamlet, and I have had rather Shakespeare-ie thoughts lately. Everyone tells me I can get like that, with the whole " Unto every one of those features had been bestowed the light of the very heavens above, for indeed, a fire shone out through her eyes that I, in all my long years at Court, had never seen the like of" and the like. But, now that I think of it, you reviewers did ask for sappy Danric mental dialogue. I will now take time to thank all reviewers individually:
TallemeraRane: Yeah, this is the fic I wanted you to read, but I just couldn't wait to publish it. I have my sister, and she reads ok for mechanics, right?
KokoAstra: And I plan to.
Rosethorn: Yeah, I love your Eowyn story, and I thank you for the candy, and love, and I tried to give you more sappy internal monologues. Thank you for worshiping me as a Goddess, but I will be happy to lend you my holographic rendition of Vidanric, because he is the one who really deserves your worship.
Phaerie: NO MORE PIXY STIX FOR YOU! And I like Danric POV stories too. Thanks for flattering me by saying I need no criticism, but there is always room for improvement.
Now, OFF TO WYOMING, LAND OF THE...Uh...does anyone know exactly what there is in Wyoming, besides lots of cows? Toodles!
-Black Rose
Now back to our show:
"It couldn't be anything good, to have her brought before him without even time to clean up," I thought regretfully. I would have to make up some tale of the mud, or maybe the rain to excuse the terrible state of my clothes. At least I had my waterproof cloak, that was always wrinkle-less and much more mud-less than the rest of my clothes. "That's what comes from sitting on a speeding horse for 7 hours, even when you know perfectly well that you know you will have to stand in front of the man who had courtiers executed with no other cause than their jewels outshadowed the ones on his somewhat ample girth.
This thought train had carried me and the Countess as far as the Goldenwood doors to the Throne Room, but now, I had to have all my wits about me. As the servants opened the doors, I took a quick survey of all who had duty that day, seeing whether the majority favored me or Galdaran. I was lucky that day. I spied Russav standing next to Tamara in a corner, as well as Trish, and several other old friends of my parents and myself. I would have good support. Looking around for the opposite end of the spectrum, I noticed the Marquise of Merindar, with her abominable children Flauvic and Fialma, standing on the right-hand side of the throne. She always was one to display her obvious relations to the person in power, whoever it happened to be at that moment. I would have to watch out for her if we ever managed to gain the throne.
I heard a small gasp beside me, and risked a glance to the side at the Countess of Tlanth. She seemed overwhelmed with the scale of it all; the grandeur, the richness, the sheer vast size of the domed throne room. My eyes scanned her face, looking for any sign of what she was thinking, and I was shocked at what I found. On her steeley features was wrought an expression of such loathing, such vengeance, that I had never seen the like. Her eyes were like chips of violet ice, and through all the grime of the battlefield a week away, there could be no doubt of her noble, and even royal lines through the Calahanras heritage, if your only knew where to look. I bowed low, petitioner to sovereign, and waited patently for Galdaran to string enough words together for people to believe that he had some semblance of coherent thought.
"So you have won your wager, Shevraeth, eh?" Galdaran stated from the broad flabby mouth of his that somewhat resembled a toad. Now it was my turn to do the acting. "As well, Your Majesty. The dirt, the stretches of boredom...really, had it taken two days more, I could not have supported it, much as I'd regret the damage to my reputation for reneging on a bet." This was going along spectacularly, better than I had hoped. But then came my downfall. Wishing to see how the Countess was taking this, I glanced her way. The instant my eyes latched opon her face, I could not look away. I had thought the look of loathing intense before, but now it was such a pure expression that, were it on any other face than hers, it would look false. The Countess was glaring at Galdaran, GLARING at him, like he was some vile pestilence that should shortly be exterminated, lest it spread to the one who bore the face. And that face, unwashed though it was, were as a sculpture, as the life's work of a master of the craft of marble; for each feature was perfect, and unto every one of those features had been bestowed the light of the very heavens above, for indeed, a fire shone out through her eyes that I, in all my long years at Court, had never seen the like of. I then well knew what Galdran had in store for her, and while I was perfectly aware of the risk to my life it would be were I to be discovered, I swore there and then that I would not, could not, see this fire pass from our Earth. At this point, it was by the purest grace of some divine being that I managed to maintain the Court Mask that was the Courtier's lie, and yet was that which gave us our very existence. I was startled out of my calm revere when Galdran waved his hand at the Countess, and yet I began to edit my very thoughts when I realized how much better she suited name than title. Meliara, that was her name, and it fit her as well as the proverbial Glass Slipper of yore. "Are you certain someone hasn't been making a game of you?" Galdran questioned with a look of disbelief on his face. "That looks like a scullery wench." Here my fists clenched involuntarily, for he that could not see the noble blood running through her veins was indeed blind, and he, therefore, could not see the briefest moment when I let the incompetence of our Monarch pass through my Mask. "I assure you, Your Majesty, this is Lady Meliara Astiar, Countess of Tlanth," I replied, once again regaining control of my face; and though I knew that my eyes were playing their part as windows in to my thoughts, I doubted that Galdran had the wit or want to see where to open the blinds. With a mocking smile that told all to well what he had in store for her, Galdran stated to the entire precession: "I never expected much from that half-mad old man, but this really is rich!" He then made the statement in to an insult most foul, and laughed at Meliara's father in her grimy face. While I forgave them later, at that moment I was infuriated as the rest of the court followed Galdran's suit and laughed. "Cheer up, wench, You'll have your brother soon for company, and your heads will make a nice matched set over the palace gates!" My stomach rose in revolution at the merest thought of what the King was insinuating, and I followed Meliara with my eyes as she was led down to the dungeons and out of my sight, the laughter of the court following her out.
AN: YAY! I'M DONE!! Sorry about all the mellow-dramatic stuff, but I was at the Colorado Shakespeare festival last night, Hamlet, and I have had rather Shakespeare-ie thoughts lately. Everyone tells me I can get like that, with the whole " Unto every one of those features had been bestowed the light of the very heavens above, for indeed, a fire shone out through her eyes that I, in all my long years at Court, had never seen the like of" and the like. But, now that I think of it, you reviewers did ask for sappy Danric mental dialogue. I will now take time to thank all reviewers individually:
TallemeraRane: Yeah, this is the fic I wanted you to read, but I just couldn't wait to publish it. I have my sister, and she reads ok for mechanics, right?
KokoAstra: And I plan to.
Rosethorn: Yeah, I love your Eowyn story, and I thank you for the candy, and love, and I tried to give you more sappy internal monologues. Thank you for worshiping me as a Goddess, but I will be happy to lend you my holographic rendition of Vidanric, because he is the one who really deserves your worship.
Phaerie: NO MORE PIXY STIX FOR YOU! And I like Danric POV stories too. Thanks for flattering me by saying I need no criticism, but there is always room for improvement.
Now, OFF TO WYOMING, LAND OF THE...Uh...does anyone know exactly what there is in Wyoming, besides lots of cows? Toodles!
-Black Rose
