A/N: This was written as a part of the NFFR Secret Santa Exchange for AviaTantellaScott, with the original postings all at the NFFR community on livejournal. There were some amazing gifts done, so please go check them out!
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Deplorable
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The harsh light of the sun reddens as it reaches down to the horizon. The city becomes a world of shadows stretching through the streets. Soon now, the lanterns of the dwellings will be lit, but until then there is only the fading sunlight to guide peoples' steps as they make their ways home.
In the center of the city within the walls of the High Palace, the lanterns already shine, the oil-based flames casting their own, smaller shadows upon the halls and corridors. Here in the High Palace these lanterns are lit all day and night, for the walls are thick and the sunlight cannot reach to the furthest corners of the corridors.
It is quiet in the High Palace, for the Emperor sits late this night with his inner cabinet of advisors; they are drafting a trade agreement that could spell the end to decades of enmity between Charn and Bramandin. In other wings of the palace, nobles and servants talk in whispers, for the end of day is near and night belongs to the Fates.
In the East wing, within the Azure Chambers, a nurse sits with the princess of Charn. The girl is young, her black hair loose and frizzy after its unbraiding; she sits upon the rug and plays with a set of intricately carved figurines of soldiers and warriors.
"Night is nearly here, child," the nurse warns the girl. "You must be in your bed soon, or the Fates will be displeased."
The princess is young enough that she does not yet understand to fear the Fates. "A story!" she begs, "Please!"
"It is late," the nurse begins, but the girl interrupts her again.
"A story! And then I will sleep!"
There is still time before the sun sinks from view; the nurse takes the figurines from the girl and places them upon a shelf. "A story it is," she says, and the girl straightens in anticipation.
"Long ago in the early days of Charn, when our land was not an empire, but a kingdom," the nurse begins, "there was a foolish king."
The girl beams, for this is a tale she has never heard before.
"This king was proud of his land, but he wished for it to become greater still. He boasted of how glorious Charn would one day become, and claimed that it would be the greatest empire of the world. But for all his stories and all his boasts, the king never once mentioned the will of the Fates, and this was his undoing."
"But Charn is an empire," the girl claims with a frown. "It is the greatest empire in the world."
The nurse dips her head in acknowledgement, and continues with her story. "The youngest Fate was watching Charn, and she did not like what she saw. So, on a day when the boasts of the king became greater than ever before, the youngest Fate took human form as a traveler and arrived at the home of the king with a cart containing several full, burlap sacks. No one could see what was in the sacks as the cart wheeled through the streets, for they had all been tied tightly shut.
"However, such was the magic of the sacks that the king only needed one look to know they contained the finest rubies ever seen. And he went up to the youngest Fate, not knowing that it was she, and asked how much she would sell the contents of her cart for.
"The youngest Fate told him that the rubies of her cart were cursed, and that she would not wish that curse upon any mortal. But the king merely laughed, and told her that he did not believe in curses, and again he asked what it would take to buy a sack of the rubies.
"'Take them all, foolish king' said the youngest Fate, and she climbed off the cart and left the city and was never seen again. But the king took no notice as she left, for all he could see were the rubies, and all he could think was that Charn would finally become the greatest empire in the land."
The nurse leans forward and lowers her voice. "When the curse took hold of the empire, it took two days for the last of the crops to whither to dust."
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The jewels of the royal household shone in the red light of the sun, more plentiful than ever before and more useless than ever. Hekkenet found his father in the treasure chamber, seated in the corner on a wooden bench and lost in thought. Around his feet and piled against the walls were countless sacks, and where the cloth had slipped, the red glint of the rubies could be seen. In the center of the room was a pile of the jewels strewn across the floor.
The king did not even look up as his son approached. "What good are the finest rubies," Telkor asked in a dead voice, "if your people cannot eat them? What good are they when they cannot be traded because all know they bear death?"
Hekkenet stopped in front of his father, staring down at the single ruby on the bench. When he reached for it, Telkor's hand caught his wrist in a tight grip. "Do not soil your hands on this cursed rock," he said sharply. "Stay pure, my son. I would not have the curse live on in you."
Hekkenet pulled away reluctantly, but his gaze stayed on the ruby. The wood of the bench was gouged deeply next to where the jewel lay. "They will not break," Telkor continued. "I have tried every manner I can think of, but the rubies will not shatter. See? Not even a scratch upon them. The curse keeps them strong."
"Father," Hekkenet interrupted.
"I sent soldiers to cart the rubies from the empire – two days before the men returned, the rubies reappeared in this very room as if by magic. I sent others to cast the jewels into the sea – the rubies returned that very night. I cannot rid myself of them."
"Father," Hekkenet repeated.
Telkor looked up finally to his son, like a shamed man on trial.
"Father, let me go into the world," Hekkenet said. "Let me travel in search of the one who gave you these rubies, so I may learn how the curse can be lifted. Please, let me go."
Before when he had suggested this, Telkor had refused, claiming it was better to die with one's family than have each of them scattered across the earth. But now, he was a broken man. Now, he bowed his head before his son once more.
"Go," he sighed, his voice rough with sudden emotion, "Go. For I cannot break the curse I have brought upon us, and Charn will be dead if someone does not find a way. Go, my son, and have my blessing – such that it is."
And so Hekkenet rode out on the fastest, strongest steed of the kingdom with a sword on his hip and a pack of what little supplies he could gather on his back. His father watched him go from the wall top, staring off into the distance long after his son's form had been lost in the haze of dust that covered the horizon.
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For seven long days the sun hovered in the sky above; for seven long nights the people shook in their homes as the Fates walked free. And on the eighth day, King Telkor went up to the wall top as he had each day before, and strained his eyes for any sight of his son. But on this day, the eighth day, he finally saw the movement of travelers approaching.
"Open the gates!" he bellowed. "Sound the horn! My son has returned!" But as the figures drew closer, King Telkor saw to his dismay that his son was not one of them.
No – these three figures were women fair as the triple moons in the sky above. They were tall and had white hair and grey eyes – near albino, they were, and they stood out sore against the brown of the land. And although these women looked young and beautiful, their eyes told of years unimaginable.
"We have heard you have a problem, Telkor of Charn," said the tallest of the three women. "We have come to give you our aid."
And the king looked to her as one who is starving for knowledge. "You have met my son, then?"
"We have," the eldest confirmed. "And we spoke with him at great length. We understand the nature of the curse upon your land, perhaps even greater than you do yourself."
"Then help us," the king begged, and he fell on his knees before them. "But first – tell me of my son."
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He did not like the witches. It was not just their looks, the white skin that stuck out against a nation of dark-tanned people. It was not their eyes, old as they were in young faces, staring at him until he wanted to crawl away in shame. Nor was it their bearing, as though they were queens long forgotten.
He thought about this long and hard as he stood upon the rooftop, scanning the horizon for the sight of his son. He thought about it in the long hours of the night. But this source of this feeling was not something he could pin down easily.
"We can hold off the curse with our magic," the tallest had told him in the deep council room. "And your land will be just as it was before the rubies ever came to this kingdom."
"And my land will be whole again?" he had asked. The news was almost too good to believe. He wondered again why his son had not yet returned.
"For a time," the tallest warned, "But only a time. All the magic in all the world cannot hold off a curse like this forever. If your son does not return with a way to remove the curse entirely, there will come a time when the full power of it will be unleashed once more. And I warn you, Telkor of Charn, do not take this lightly. For if this were to happen and the curse be released again, it would be a thousand times greater than ever before. And it just might be that it would destroy not only Charn, but every person that lives in this world."
It was only after this discussion, after he had told the three witches to carry on and do whatever they could, that he realized what it was he did not like. For although the women spoke of the destruction of the world, there was no fear in their eyes.
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"And so the three witches bound the curse in a word – a single, deplorable word. And three days after their incantations had ended, life returned to Charn. The grass began to grow and the rivers began to flow. The curse had been lifted, and the people rejoiced.
"But while there were songs and dancing in the streets, the king stood atop the wall in his lonely vigil for his son. He continued to watch each day for his son to return, until he had grown so old that he had to be carried up to the wall by servants. But his son never returned."
The princess fidgets impatiently, and as soon as her nurse pauses to take a breath, she exclaims, "But wasn't the curse destroyed?"
"No," the nurse says solemnly, "The witches trapped the curse in the deplorable word and the king waited for his son to return until the day he died. And if anyone now were to learn this word and speak it, everyone would surely die – except, perhaps, the speaker, for curses often do not work on the one who speaks the magic."
"And can no one stop it?" the princess cried.
"Not until the day Prince Hekkenet again rides through the gates of the the great city of Charn," the nurse answered. "But fear not, child. For Prince Hekkenet will return someday, and Charn will become greater than ever before." She leans forward to take the princess's hand and help her to her feet. "And now, young Jadis, it is time for sleep."
The girl stands reluctantly, tugging the thin silk of her nightgown until it hangs straight. She is led into the next room, where her younger sister already sleeps in her bed of cushions. Under the nurse's guidance, the princess crawls onto her own bed and curls up among the pillows.
"I can fix it," she declares suddenly, and the fierceness of her voice causes her sister to stir. "I can," she repeats softer.
"Can you now, young Jadis?" the nurse whispers, and squeezes her hand gently.
"Yes," Jadis says, "I'll find Prince Hekkenet and make him come back. I will. You'll see."
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END
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A/N: I would just like to say that I will be posting less fics over the next few months because of a combination of schoolwork and an origfic project I would like to take time to develop.
I would also like to take the opportunity to let everyone know that the NFFR Awards are currently accepting submissions. The three prompts are available, and rules are available at the site. Please submit lots of fics, because the more amazing stuff that comes in, the better!
