Three Days
Dec. 21st, 2014 02:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feredarStory: Three Days
Year: 989 FY
Characters: Mellir
Warnings: References to fratricide, genocide, war, and alcoholism
Three days.
He'd been king for all of three days, and he already deeply, deeply regretted putting himself in this position.
"We need to offer a cease-fire," he said, for the fifth time.
"You would back out of the war? They attacked us, Majesty," the Minister of War said.
Mellir rubbed at his temples, and then clenched his fists to keep his hands from visibly shaking. "And we've lost two kings in as many years, there are riots every other week, my brother's murderer has not been caught--we need to clean up our own house before we focus on retaliating against Glass and the others. I'm not saying surrender, I'm saying cease-fire." It was so painfully obvious to him--one would think that the gentlemen on the council, who had over a century of governmental experience between them, would see it.
Gods, he needed a drink.
"If we ask for a cease-fire, Majesty, we'll expose those problems to the world," the Minister replied, slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "They will fall on us and destroy us."
Mellir wanted to strangle him.
"Fine," he said, more because he was sick of arguing than because he thought the Minister was right. "But the Purge is on hold until things stabilize."
More uproar. Of course. Kellom had surrounded himself with narrow-minded idiots who couldn't see past Glory and Purity and--
"Shut up!"
Miraculousy, that actually worked.
Well, then again, his father and his brother would never have snapped at the entire council like this. He'd probably shocked them silent. Of course, his father and his brother wouldn't have needed to snap at the entire council like this, but that was irrelevant.
"The War continues. The Purge is on hold. We're done here."
Before they could argue any more, he stood up and stalked out of the room.
One more meeting survived, and how long until the put together that he had been the one to kill his predecessor? Dammit, he was in over his head here.
All right, one drink, to calm down and dull the headache, then he would go see Keta. And Andrell, too, Andrell was good with people. And Sola. He would need Sola.
Except--no, he couldn't tell any of them the murder problem, now could he? All they could help with was the politics. And, if he were honest with himself--which he always tried to be--if he had one drink to calm himself down, he'd have another and another, and get drunk enough to loosen his tongue and tell his siblings something he shouldn't.
Tomorrow, then. Before the council meeting. He'd get their advice tomorrow.
He shut the door in his bodyguards' faces, locked it behind himself, and poured a drink. Tonight, he would finally have some peace--no one complaining at him, or judging him, or--just peace and quiet.
Tomorrow, he'd have to be King again, and maybe he'd finally accomplish all he wanted.
Maybe on the fourth day, it would be a little easier.
Year: 989 FY
Characters: Mellir
Warnings: References to fratricide, genocide, war, and alcoholism
Three days.
He'd been king for all of three days, and he already deeply, deeply regretted putting himself in this position.
"We need to offer a cease-fire," he said, for the fifth time.
"You would back out of the war? They attacked us, Majesty," the Minister of War said.
Mellir rubbed at his temples, and then clenched his fists to keep his hands from visibly shaking. "And we've lost two kings in as many years, there are riots every other week, my brother's murderer has not been caught--we need to clean up our own house before we focus on retaliating against Glass and the others. I'm not saying surrender, I'm saying cease-fire." It was so painfully obvious to him--one would think that the gentlemen on the council, who had over a century of governmental experience between them, would see it.
Gods, he needed a drink.
"If we ask for a cease-fire, Majesty, we'll expose those problems to the world," the Minister replied, slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "They will fall on us and destroy us."
Mellir wanted to strangle him.
"Fine," he said, more because he was sick of arguing than because he thought the Minister was right. "But the Purge is on hold until things stabilize."
More uproar. Of course. Kellom had surrounded himself with narrow-minded idiots who couldn't see past Glory and Purity and--
"Shut up!"
Miraculousy, that actually worked.
Well, then again, his father and his brother would never have snapped at the entire council like this. He'd probably shocked them silent. Of course, his father and his brother wouldn't have needed to snap at the entire council like this, but that was irrelevant.
"The War continues. The Purge is on hold. We're done here."
Before they could argue any more, he stood up and stalked out of the room.
One more meeting survived, and how long until the put together that he had been the one to kill his predecessor? Dammit, he was in over his head here.
All right, one drink, to calm down and dull the headache, then he would go see Keta. And Andrell, too, Andrell was good with people. And Sola. He would need Sola.
Except--no, he couldn't tell any of them the murder problem, now could he? All they could help with was the politics. And, if he were honest with himself--which he always tried to be--if he had one drink to calm himself down, he'd have another and another, and get drunk enough to loosen his tongue and tell his siblings something he shouldn't.
Tomorrow, then. Before the council meeting. He'd get their advice tomorrow.
He shut the door in his bodyguards' faces, locked it behind himself, and poured a drink. Tonight, he would finally have some peace--no one complaining at him, or judging him, or--just peace and quiet.
Tomorrow, he'd have to be King again, and maybe he'd finally accomplish all he wanted.
Maybe on the fourth day, it would be a little easier.