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feredarStory: Capable
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Mellir
Warnings: References to parental death, war, civil war, and intrafamilial violence and the consequences of it.
Seven years ago, he might have dreamed of it, and imagined himself capable--he would have been wrong, of course, and probably everyone knew it but him, but, well, he might have dreamed.
Six years ago, he knew damn well he wasn’t worthy, let alone capable.
Five years ago, as he crawled up out of that pit, it started to dawn on him exactly where he was placed, exactly what that might mean, and he was terrified that, someday, someone might expect him to be capable.
Four years ago, he was asked to remarry, and was almost relieved, because that was something he was capable of, loving a woman and siring children--even if his first marriage had been too brief to prove it.
Three years ago, they were at war, and he did his best to help his sisters hold a stable center in their father’s court; he started to know his wife, he started to build a life, he almost started to dream again, of capability.
Two years ago, his father died, and his too-capable older brother began to make a mess of things, and he wondered just what the hell the world was coming to.
One year ago, his wife became pregnant and his little brother defected, and the reality of being the heir crashed down on him again, and he only prayed he would be capable when the time came.
This year, he knows it’s happening whether he’s ready for it or not, whether he’s capable or not, and all he can do is rely on his sisters, rely on his helpfully-sober wits, rely on his conquering little brother’s good will, and try to keep them all alive.
Next year, with any luck, he will look back on this one and know that--well, he’s no longer the profligate dreamer he used to be, so he knows that victory is out of reach--but, with any luck, he’ll be able to look back and know that, despite all the wrong that had gone before, in the end, he was capable of right.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Mellir
Warnings: References to parental death, war, civil war, and intrafamilial violence and the consequences of it.
Seven years ago, he might have dreamed of it, and imagined himself capable--he would have been wrong, of course, and probably everyone knew it but him, but, well, he might have dreamed.
Six years ago, he knew damn well he wasn’t worthy, let alone capable.
Five years ago, as he crawled up out of that pit, it started to dawn on him exactly where he was placed, exactly what that might mean, and he was terrified that, someday, someone might expect him to be capable.
Four years ago, he was asked to remarry, and was almost relieved, because that was something he was capable of, loving a woman and siring children--even if his first marriage had been too brief to prove it.
Three years ago, they were at war, and he did his best to help his sisters hold a stable center in their father’s court; he started to know his wife, he started to build a life, he almost started to dream again, of capability.
Two years ago, his father died, and his too-capable older brother began to make a mess of things, and he wondered just what the hell the world was coming to.
One year ago, his wife became pregnant and his little brother defected, and the reality of being the heir crashed down on him again, and he only prayed he would be capable when the time came.
This year, he knows it’s happening whether he’s ready for it or not, whether he’s capable or not, and all he can do is rely on his sisters, rely on his helpfully-sober wits, rely on his conquering little brother’s good will, and try to keep them all alive.
Next year, with any luck, he will look back on this one and know that--well, he’s no longer the profligate dreamer he used to be, so he knows that victory is out of reach--but, with any luck, he’ll be able to look back and know that, despite all the wrong that had gone before, in the end, he was capable of right.