All In The Hope Of Glory
People didn't always appreciate the beauty of the North. His sister, fiery but lovable, was the epitome of that statement. Despite being born and raised in a mountain fief, she had always craved for sunlight and warmth. In the end, that was what she got, and him? He travelled further north, pursuing his own dreams of glory, achieving them eventually.
Had it been worth the sacrifice? He was adamant that it mattered not that he was friendless while his sister in comparison had not one, not two, but three men competing for her heart. No, the end certainly justified the means as far as he was concerned; after all, he did succeed in becoming the youngest Mithran Master in history, possessing enough power to rival the Conté Duke's.
Just this one little thing for Delia, he had told himself, then he would return to Trebond where he felt most at home. Just this one little thing to prove that he wasn't just all talk and no action. But for all the power in the world, he would have realised the danger he was in until it was too late.
One little thing became one big thing, and at the back of his mind ran the oft-repeating thought: what have I done? His sister was going to be furious; his actions were close to treasonous.
So much for glory, he scoffed bitterly, it always led to ruin.
He knew that he would never again have the chance to return home to the mountains, cool air slapping at his cheeks and snow falling spontaneously every few days, in rivalry with the rain.
Instead, he was hopelessly entangled within ropes of white-hot uncertainty and anguish.
Thom of Trebond was in agony.
A spontaneous, five minute drabble on one of the quietest, yet interesting, characters from the SotL quartet.
- Khadeejah: 13/06/2009