Theme Challenge: 22. Mother
Main Character(s): Saberstrike Ryuutane
Fodder: Ronin Warriors-realm Characters
Pairings: N/A
Genre: Drama
Rating: E for Everyone
Does it contain spoilers?: For some of my fanfictions and things, but that's about it...
Warning: Deathfic, Funerary
-x-x-x-
There is a love no greater than that of a child for their mother, no bond stronger no matter how long anyone shall live or what circumstances that caused it. It is a bond that brings even the strongest men to their knees and draws tears from the coldest of demons. This bond is not the same as that of a Drake and hatchling, nor the same as one may have with a mate or sibling. There is something special, particular, that comes from a mother carrying her young for four seasons and tending to the egg for another four, carefully keeping the conditions consistant and necessary for her little one to break free.
Ryuumaru knows this. Now, so do the guards and doctors as they carefully pick themselves up while the Drake storms passed, Ryuutane following at a more dainty pace then her brother. She is only five, but already a talented young lady. She is a fine princess, moving with the grace of a young warrioress. Her skin is a pale porciline, since she does all her training indoors, and she wears a child's Qipao of the same startling black as her hair, lined with a deep, smoky blue-purple just as her eyes. Tiny little martial arts slippers tip tap the polished floor as she rushes to keep up to the sixteen year old Drake clearing a path.
He is angry, she can see it as plain as day. Nine hundred seasons since her birth, he cannot hide it from her, even if he is a good deal older then her. Nearby, a human messenger flinches violently as the raging inferno that is Ryuumaru stalks past, only slightly placated by Ryuutane's sad smile of reassurance. The fire dragoness recognises him; she knew his father, and his father before him, and his before him. Six generations back she recognises his family, and she feels pity for him. To dragons, humans are lucky to live a year. Humans have their own years, of course, but Ryuutane does not know their system. A part of her wishes she already did, if only to placate her brother. The family doctor for the last two years has died. He was with them for three hundred and sixty seasons, it irks her brother that the moment he passes, their own mother falls ill. Not even a year ago, Father died.
But the bond between father and son is not as strong, though Ryuumaru wears his father's armor even now. She had been training, and Ryuumaru had been overseeing the guards before he was due to meet with a diplomat from a neighboring nation. Keeping the other kingdoms on the belief that Nilakanta is still alive is not easy. The Emperor and Prince can not be seen in the same room, as none know that they are now one in the same.
Ryuutane does not understand death yet, not as one would think. It would be several more years before she sees any one die in battle. She knows their father died of old injuries. She does not know what ails their mother, for the new doctor does not know what is wrong. Humans, she realises, are not the best to turn to for dragon behaviour, but their mother trusts them faithfully. It will be the death of her.
Ryuutane cannot bring herself to fault anyone.
Once inside Mother's room, of course, things change. She is not sure if the situation gets worse or better, just that armor clanks and Ryuumaru is now at Mother's side. The hissing and cooing is endearing, and she recognises what he speaks. He calls for her to wake, for her to say something, anything.
Mother does not answer.
It is a long time before Ryuutane realises Mother is dead.
She does not understand.
-x-x-x-
Dragons do not have funerals as humans do, or perhaps as any other culture does. To a dragon, when you die you are immersed in your element. Father, Ryuutane recalls, was taken to the fire lake of Doragon-su. He was laid in as careful as they could, and only close family was there. Mother, Ryuumaru, and herself. Father was a Fire Drake, like Ryuumaru and herself. Because they are both fire dragons, Mother too must be one, even if no one can trace her liniage. How else could both their hatchlings be of such strong blood?
Ryuumaru arranges for Mother to be taken there as well. Ryuutane's long hair joins Ryuumaru's on the floor as the human carefully cuts it short, mindful to make it look nice. Her brother is being dressed in a fire-silken hanfu, the material from the Phoenixes to the west. It looks nice, a deep near-black indigo and trimmed in river-blue, and he is handling a similar one trimmed in forest-green, only much smaller. She recognises this ritual from two years ago when Father died.
When Father died, they cut their hair and dressed in royal Hanfu. Ryuutane had worn a plain black Hanfu of crushed silk, giving it a lava-rock appearance. Ryuutane remembers her own Hanfu as a warm magma-red trimmed in obsidian black. She had wishes now to forget it.
She wishes she didn't have to dress in the one her brother was holding, if only because doing so is admitting for absolute fact that Mother is dead. Ryuumaru had told her not to cry, not to let any see her tears of mourn. Those were meant for Mother alone, and would have to wait until they got to Doragon-su.
She did not promise, and she cannot stop those that stir now. She does not understand what has happend. She does not appologise to Ryuumaru, either, for she can taste his own tears in the air as he turns away from her. If the human noticies, she says nothing.
-x-x-x-
Doragon-su was a beautiful place bathed in a warm red glow, the air a constant hiss of steam as water pours from the sky above in huge, steady sheets of heated rain. Ryuutane cannot help but find it fitting, as their mother had always been fascinated by the rain and the forests alike. She doubts Mother appreciates the lava before her as Ryuumaru lays the body into the boiling, hissing liquid. Volcanic dust rises as he moves to stand back up, making sure his hands do not touch. The burning scent of flesh and scales causes her to gag. Ryuutane cannot help it.
"...we should say a few words."
She doesn't want to, yet she knows Ryuumaru needs this as much as she. It is a way of letting go. She remembers this ritual too.
"...I miss you, Mother." Despite being five, Ryuutane is very polite and refined. She only calls Mother 'Mommy' when alone with her. She never makes an error. "...let Father know I miss him as well, and I will do good for you... I promise."
She lets her brother speak now, though the air between them stretches long and thin before he does.
"Watch over us from the fire lake with Father, Mother, and I will watch Ryuutane and the Empire from much closer. May Doragon-su be with you."
The sending off as the last of Mother descends into the burning red, Ryuutane turns and dutifully follows Ryuumaru, casting one last glance at the sky above them.
She still does not understand.