To Whom It May Concern:
Sherwood Smith=Crown & Court Duel (among other amazing books!)
Wake~Robin= …..tumbleweed drifts by…..
Basically, it means these characters are not mine. xP
Proof
By Wake~Robin
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[Fanfic's Author's Notes]
I wrote this a long, long time ago. I had wanted to make it a longer piece, but it was doomed to stay at this short length, sorry. I found it again when I was trying to write again and decided to upload it for everyone to read, rather than letting it collect dust on my flashdrive and forgetting about it like I had previously intended to do.
From my notes, I wrote this before Sherwood Smith revealed/uploaded/published the snippet about what happened after Meliara gave up Debegri's letter. Using her snippet a bit and my original inspiration (something Felsong asked Sherwood Smith, though I do not remember the question anymore =P), I edited and added a bit to what I originally had to show you my take on what happened after Meliara left the letter.
Anyhow, Thanks Sherwood Smith and FelSong!!!
The world gradually lit up from the little glowglobes lining the streets and homes, as I galloped by. The night was settling into the far corners of the world with a soft whisper in the trees. Change rode along the winds.
Much was to be done now that Galdran was gone. I had realized that long before the chance for usurpation ever existed.
It wouldn't be long now, I knew, before the news would spread like a summer hayfire. Good news, I thought to myself. It has been long since there'd been good news…
With a small grin growing, I wondered about the fate of a certain young heroine of these lands and her reaction to the increasing fame that would soon be accredited to her name, especially upon returning to Athanarel.
The bright side of things, however, did not take hold of me completely. True to my sensible self, it was not long before a grim notion darkened my mind.
With these celebrations, opportunists with plots for the newly vacated throne would be set in motion as well.
I was not so naïve as to believe that all would be well intentioned.
I pondered over these thoughts, riding down the last few yards toward the rundown roof near the wood gatherer's cottage, my makeshift headquarters. Renselaeus stable hands readied for my arrival and that of my riding, as soon as they caught sight of us. Working efficiently, the horses were soon cared for in the most capable of hands, as I dismissed my men to go for sustenance. I had another place in mind than my men. I briskly strolled away from them, in another direction, across the clearing for the cottage.
The cottage was simple and warm, perfectly suited for country life and cozy comfort. My riding boots echoed my steps in the hush that enveloped the place. Walking down the narrow hall, I paused when I saw Bran in the doorway of Meliara's room, waiting for me.
He was pale, still sick from the cold that had touched me as well. His injuries were taking a toll on him. His face was lined with fatigue and worry.
"She left." His solemn voice stated. "For home, most likely…"
My brow rose in inquiry, in surprise. The Healer had predicted that the woman in question would sleep the day away. Apparently, the patient heeded no such prediction.
"And she left you behind," I asked a half beat later.
He smiled a bit ruefully, releasing a soft laugh, before he replied,
"While I slept..."
He placed on his forehead a hand, one that slid over his face, as if to wipe away his uneasy thoughts.
It began to dawn on him, perhaps, that he, who should have known her best, was slowly losing the understanding that came from their sibling bond. Perhaps, he was beginning to realize a changed woman took his sister's form.
With a soundless sigh, I turned into my room, taking off my black cloak and resting it on a chair by my table. When I turned back around, Bran had not stepped inside, only leaned by my doorway instead.
"Perhaps, it is for the best," I murmured to him, though I wondered about it myself.
Bran looked at me with a frown that joined his brows.
He gave a gentle nod and turned his eyes upward. I saw in him now, a man aged and I thought to myself that that was what we were….aged.
We did not say anything for a few moments. He just continued to stare blankly upwards, contemplating thoughts that would most likely plunge him into more despair.
Where there gentle smiles that might have once caressed his mouth, there now were somber ones…weary ones….I could only hope that once the dust settles, things would turn out better for him.
Sweeping my eyes away from the man before me, I looked out the fogged up window, where stars glittered like the jewels of a treasure chest…out into the darkness where Meliara was. Why leave now, I wondered.
Resisting a sigh, I stared at my hands. They were ungloved, since I had forgotten the gloves on my table, and slightly red from handling the reins. Hands clenching and unclenching, I willed myself to not run out the door and ride after the woman.
To bring her back or to be with her, I asked myself.
A resigned sigh startled me a bit and my head turned back to my company.
"There's nothing we can do now anyways," Bran said.
His eyes left the shadows, flickering darkly against the ceiling from the firesticks, to settle onto my face. A hand rose to comb through his strands, an act of frustration undoubtedly, as he watched me. I nodded in agreement. Now of all times is not the time for rash impulses, I told myself. I pushed the wishes and worries for later….when I could be alone…
"I just wish I knew what she is thinking," he whispered exasperatedly.
I smiled.
"A woman's mind is never something a man can fathom in one sitting. Why don't we have supper instead? I'm sure you've fasted long enough," I suggested in my Court drawl, resisting a glance over at my table, where dozens of correspondences awaited my orders, replies, and explanations.
Bran grinned, a smile less somber than the others I've seen, and offered to bring our supper to my room, which I immediately took him up on.
When he left, a quick detour to the stable and some discreet questions yielded few answers for me, besides the fact that she'd been willing and appeared firm enough about her decision.
Not long after I finished my inquiries and I changed out of my muddied gear, Bran returned with our supper, braced for talks of our immediate future.
As supper and our planning session extended long into the evening, the tense atmosphere waned somewhat. Eventually, exhausted from all the ailments plaguing him, Bran started nodding off and after some protests, he agreed to my suggestions to rest with half-hearted reluctance.
I, on the other hand, had letters for the families of the fallen still to write.
Withdrawing the list of the dead from my pockets, I stepped over to the table and found among the pile of supply lists, task reports, and letters from the city two unfamiliar sheets of papers by my maps and riding gloves.
One was folded and showed a bit of wear as if it'd been read often. Opening that one first, my eyes widened in surprise more over seeing Debegri's familiar hand, rather than the letter's contents. I hadn't expected to see this, not because I doubted Galdran's wrongdoings or that the Astiars had any proof of Galdran's treachery, but because of the letter's other implications now that it was in my hands.
Anticipation more than shock had me dropping Debegri's letter and reaching for the other paper on my table. I had no doubt who'd written that one.
The note was short and to the point. You'll probably need this to convince Galdran's allies, it stated.
Lowering myself into my chair, I stared at her words, her faintly shaky letters, foolishly trying to extract more meaning from them. This was much more than just proof that she'd given up her claim to the throne.
I sighed, thinking.
"What is this proof of," I murmured to myself.
[W/R] Thanks for reading! Please review!
(Sorry for any mistakes you may find!)
[PROOF]
[ONE-SHOT COMPLETE 01.25.10]