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treanz, a fic for the Christmas exchange at the Dove. I'm a horrible person who can't meet deadlines, and I promise to never sign up for another exchange again :P
Kat wanted Jon or Roger. The only thing more more horrifying to me than writing more Jon (that one time was supposed to be the only...) would be, err, writing Roger. So here's some Jon. Sadly, I can't seperate him from angst. Or fluff, apparently. I will go die of embarassment now.
It's called 'epitaph for an umbrella', and the title makes sense to me, even if it won't to anyone else. If it does make sense to anyone else, I shall feel very stalked.
It's brought to you in part by one of my new favourite songs, sent to me by Imogen (so, really, brought to you in part by Imo). Namely, "I'll See Your Heart & I'll Raise You Mine". Eee, good song.
Unbetaed and 869 words. So, without further ramblings:
Merry Christmas Kat, Happy New Year and congrats on the university :)
<><><><>
epitaph for an umbrella
<><><><>
Sometimes when Jonathan has a moment to spare, he stops to look around. He doesn’t like to do this very often; it always leaves him feeling nervous and vaguely guilty.
Now, as Jonathan watches Alanna and Thayet from behind a glass wall of vines and leaves, he tells himself that the guilt is occupational – he should be locked away in his council chambers, taking care of his kingdom – though Jonathan knows that this isn’t the reason.
Alanna and Thayet are doubled over each other in laughter, gasping for air and Jonathan wonders idly when his Alanna started doing something so uncharacteristic as giggling.
Somewhere in between George and Liam, he is willing to bet.
But Jonathan can’t bring himself to resent his friend for choosing other men; there’s a tightening in his chest from the sense of familiarity that she’s brought back to the castle.
Charmed, Jonathan strides over to the women.
They glance up at him, startled, and he has to stop himself from taking a step backwards.
Their faces have sobered quickly and the way that Alanna looks at him does nothing to ease the growing tension in his stomach. Jonathan’s seen that look before on Alanna’s features, when they were pages and squires; back then she’d reserved it for her teachers, commanders, and for his father the king.
“Jon,” she says, reaching out to him.
But it’s come a moment too late and he knows that Alanna’s unscripted sense of duty is going to haunt his dreams.
Thayet, for her part, is appropriately distant. Her upbringing dictates nothing less.
<><><><>
Gary, his Prime Minister, is stammering awkwardly about some court lady and Jonathan is concerned – he knows that his cousin is nothing if not skilled with words.
There’s a moment when Jonathan can’t remember which lady is the object of Gary’s latest fixation, but Gary says Cythera amongst his mumblings and that’s that.
Jonathan feels a rush of compassion for his cousin and starts to tell Gary that he’s there for him, and that if he needs anything…
But the Prime Minster cuts of his King-to-be with an odd look.
“Really Jon,” says Gary. “If things were going badly, I wouldn’t have brought it up.”
Jonathan asks what that is supposed to mean, and Gary all but says that Raoul is much better than the prince for that sort of thing.
“I didn’t mean it like that”, says Gary in an apologetic tone, as Jon’s eyes glint dangerously. “It’s just that you have better things to do than comfort a love-sick desk knight.”
Jonathan lets it slide because Gary, as always, has a valid point in what he is saying.
It doesn’t hurt any less though.
“Look,” begins Gary again, as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks on his feet, very slightly. It’s something that Gary’s done ever since he was very small, and Jonathan finds it oddly comforting.
“I’ve actually come here to get the crown’s approval.” Gary looks at him expectantly, but Jonathan doesn’t quite understand.
“Approval, Cythera? But Gary, you two have only been courting for…” Jonathan trails off, because he can’t actually remember how long his cousin has been courting the said lady from Elden.
A small frown tugs at the corners of Gary’s mouth.
“It’s been two and a half years, Jon.”
<><><><>
They talk about the weather a lot, Thayet and he.
It’s stupid and pointless, and a waste of time: when Alanna or Buri, or even when Raoul is there, they carry on more interesting conversations about governing and politics, geography and all sorts of social issues.
Thayet tries hard not to get drawn into these conversations, but eventually she forgets her careful disinterest to point out some idiocy or another. Eyebrows raised, she can highlight the flaws in any battle plan or any governing proposal and Jonathan finds himself thinking over her words long after she has left.
People make things complicated; Jonathan knows this. He also knows that they’ll hurt you if you give them the chance, if you let them get too close.
It’s all been done before, this dance, and Jonathan finds that he doesn’t mind talking about the weather so much, if that’s what Thayet is willing to give.
<><><><>
Jonathan has built up walls around himself, between him and the people that he’s loved; and the people that he might have loved, too.
He’s got burdens to carry, and he doesn’t want them – his inner circles – to have to feel the weight of these burdens.
Jonathan wants to be a good King, and he’s sure that part of this is protecting his people – he feels responsible for them.
They die for him, and each one of their deaths cuts deeper than he’s sure a King ought to feel.
Jonathan pushes them all away, Alanna and Gary, Raoul and George.
Thayet pulls him back.
He realizes, with Thayet’s cool skin against his own, that she alone understands how much he has to lose. And perhaps even better than he does himself - she’s lost everything once already.
Jonathan tells her that he doesn’t want her to lose it all again.
In turn, Thayet tells him not to be such an idiot.
<><><><>
Sometimes when Jonathan has a moment to spare, he stops to look around: the rain keeps falling and the world never stops spinning.
He's not even sure that if what he's doing is right or wrong - three days out of five, they even look the same.
What Jonathan does know, is that he's doing what needs to be done.
And also, if Thayet is willing to give him her heart, he's not fool enough to try taking on the world alone.
treanz, a fic for the Christmas exchange at the Dove. I'm a horrible person who can't meet deadlines, and I promise to never sign up for another exchange again :PKat wanted Jon or Roger. The only thing more more horrifying to me than writing more Jon (that one time was supposed to be the only...) would be, err, writing Roger. So here's some Jon. Sadly, I can't seperate him from angst. Or fluff, apparently. I will go die of embarassment now.
It's called 'epitaph for an umbrella', and the title makes sense to me, even if it won't to anyone else. If it does make sense to anyone else, I shall feel very stalked.
It's brought to you in part by one of my new favourite songs, sent to me by Imogen (so, really, brought to you in part by Imo). Namely, "I'll See Your Heart & I'll Raise You Mine". Eee, good song.
Unbetaed and 869 words. So, without further ramblings:
Merry Christmas Kat, Happy New Year and congrats on the university :)
<><><><>
epitaph for an umbrella
<><><><>
Sometimes when Jonathan has a moment to spare, he stops to look around. He doesn’t like to do this very often; it always leaves him feeling nervous and vaguely guilty.
Now, as Jonathan watches Alanna and Thayet from behind a glass wall of vines and leaves, he tells himself that the guilt is occupational – he should be locked away in his council chambers, taking care of his kingdom – though Jonathan knows that this isn’t the reason.
Alanna and Thayet are doubled over each other in laughter, gasping for air and Jonathan wonders idly when his Alanna started doing something so uncharacteristic as giggling.
Somewhere in between George and Liam, he is willing to bet.
But Jonathan can’t bring himself to resent his friend for choosing other men; there’s a tightening in his chest from the sense of familiarity that she’s brought back to the castle.
Charmed, Jonathan strides over to the women.
They glance up at him, startled, and he has to stop himself from taking a step backwards.
Their faces have sobered quickly and the way that Alanna looks at him does nothing to ease the growing tension in his stomach. Jonathan’s seen that look before on Alanna’s features, when they were pages and squires; back then she’d reserved it for her teachers, commanders, and for his father the king.
“Jon,” she says, reaching out to him.
But it’s come a moment too late and he knows that Alanna’s unscripted sense of duty is going to haunt his dreams.
Thayet, for her part, is appropriately distant. Her upbringing dictates nothing less.
<><><><>
Gary, his Prime Minister, is stammering awkwardly about some court lady and Jonathan is concerned – he knows that his cousin is nothing if not skilled with words.
There’s a moment when Jonathan can’t remember which lady is the object of Gary’s latest fixation, but Gary says Cythera amongst his mumblings and that’s that.
Jonathan feels a rush of compassion for his cousin and starts to tell Gary that he’s there for him, and that if he needs anything…
But the Prime Minster cuts of his King-to-be with an odd look.
“Really Jon,” says Gary. “If things were going badly, I wouldn’t have brought it up.”
Jonathan asks what that is supposed to mean, and Gary all but says that Raoul is much better than the prince for that sort of thing.
“I didn’t mean it like that”, says Gary in an apologetic tone, as Jon’s eyes glint dangerously. “It’s just that you have better things to do than comfort a love-sick desk knight.”
Jonathan lets it slide because Gary, as always, has a valid point in what he is saying.
It doesn’t hurt any less though.
“Look,” begins Gary again, as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks on his feet, very slightly. It’s something that Gary’s done ever since he was very small, and Jonathan finds it oddly comforting.
“I’ve actually come here to get the crown’s approval.” Gary looks at him expectantly, but Jonathan doesn’t quite understand.
“Approval, Cythera? But Gary, you two have only been courting for…” Jonathan trails off, because he can’t actually remember how long his cousin has been courting the said lady from Elden.
A small frown tugs at the corners of Gary’s mouth.
“It’s been two and a half years, Jon.”
<><><><>
They talk about the weather a lot, Thayet and he.
It’s stupid and pointless, and a waste of time: when Alanna or Buri, or even when Raoul is there, they carry on more interesting conversations about governing and politics, geography and all sorts of social issues.
Thayet tries hard not to get drawn into these conversations, but eventually she forgets her careful disinterest to point out some idiocy or another. Eyebrows raised, she can highlight the flaws in any battle plan or any governing proposal and Jonathan finds himself thinking over her words long after she has left.
People make things complicated; Jonathan knows this. He also knows that they’ll hurt you if you give them the chance, if you let them get too close.
It’s all been done before, this dance, and Jonathan finds that he doesn’t mind talking about the weather so much, if that’s what Thayet is willing to give.
<><><><>
Jonathan has built up walls around himself, between him and the people that he’s loved; and the people that he might have loved, too.
He’s got burdens to carry, and he doesn’t want them – his inner circles – to have to feel the weight of these burdens.
Jonathan wants to be a good King, and he’s sure that part of this is protecting his people – he feels responsible for them.
They die for him, and each one of their deaths cuts deeper than he’s sure a King ought to feel.
Jonathan pushes them all away, Alanna and Gary, Raoul and George.
Thayet pulls him back.
He realizes, with Thayet’s cool skin against his own, that she alone understands how much he has to lose. And perhaps even better than he does himself - she’s lost everything once already.
Jonathan tells her that he doesn’t want her to lose it all again.
In turn, Thayet tells him not to be such an idiot.
<><><><>
Sometimes when Jonathan has a moment to spare, he stops to look around: the rain keeps falling and the world never stops spinning.
He's not even sure that if what he's doing is right or wrong - three days out of five, they even look the same.
What Jonathan does know, is that he's doing what needs to be done.
And also, if Thayet is willing to give him her heart, he's not fool enough to try taking on the world alone.
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God Fen, what to say?
This is wonderful. The Thayet/Jon relationship: how it started, how it developed, what they mean to each other. TP always looks at them from the outside as a couple; they always seem very cool. You're looking at them from the inside out, and they are anything but.
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Jon, all distant and angsty and contemplative yet so real. You really brought a
dementiondimention to him that I hadn't really seen before (typo, I swear!). The flow with Thayet though, and the contrast to his other relationships... *happy sigh*I would shower you with more praise, but I'm so tongue tied with delight!
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"Somewhere in between George and Liam, he is willing to bet."
which is sort of the only hint of really obnoxious younger Jon. But, ow. When you started in with Alanna, I could tell it wasn't going to go well for Jon. By the end, though - egads the boy's depressed. You have him much more like King Roald than King Jasson (is that right?) - kind of dutiful and pressured but too cautious and lacking in passion.
And of course because you like torturing Jonathan, but think Thayet is great, there is this wonderful relationship between the two - in which Thayet keeps Jon sane and in the world. And this is lovely, except that you caught Jon on a self-pity day and I think he generally has rather a lot to offer as well. I do believe you should write Jon/Thayet from Thayet's point of view. *nudge, nudge, wink, wink*
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Okay. Yeah, I'd completely forgotten too. This is why Fen needs to hint. Not so good with the subtlety.
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