The Night is Long
Jan. 2nd, 2014 05:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feredarStory: The Night Is Long
Year: 987 FY
Characters: Fera, Sola
Warnings: Discussion of war, hints at potential kidnapping/assassination
Notes: This takes place in the Legitimate Sorell AU.
"Hushabye, baby, close your eyes,
the sun’s asleep, he’s left the skies.
Hushabye, baby, rest your head,
the moon is here to guard your bed.
Hushabye, baby, dream away,
the stars are coming out to play.
Hushabye, baby, have no fear,
the night is long, but Mamma’s here."
There were more verses, but little Sorell was already fast asleep. Fera rested a hand briefly on her son’s cheek, then bent down to kiss his forehead before turning to go.
Sola was in the doorway, watching.
Fera flushed, despite herself. She and her glamorous sister-in-law had gotten much closer over the past few years, since their two babies shared the nursery, but she still found the older woman slightly intimidating when unexpected.
Sola smiled. "I just came to look in on Nava."
Of course. Fera smiled back. "She’s still sleeping, last I checked." Nava, at two, was a year younger than her own son.
Sola crossed the room over to her daughter’s crib, and stood there watching for a moment before turning back to Fera. "I don’t know if you’ve heard…"
Her heart sank. "Bad news?"
Sola nodded. "King Amassa has formally declared war. Asendar and the Islands will soon follow, and probably others, but we haven’t received word yet."
Fera turned to her son. Kellom would be in the heart of the fighting, she knew her husband and even if his very soul weren’t offended by a mage-line ruling a nation whose power more or less equaled that of his own…
"It may not be as bad as that," Sola said, cautiously, guessing where Fera’s thoughts were headed. "But you should prepare for the possibility."
She jerked, and looked back at her sister-in-law. "Your father—"
"Is not entirely old,, no, but he is past sixty and has been reigning since he was barely more than a child." She looked away, to her little girl, and sounded worryingly sad. "True, he’s reasonably healthy, but…I doubt you can depend on him living until your son reaches his majority."
Fera swallowed. "No, I suppose not…" The other part, the if Kellom is slain part, neither of them dared speak aloud.
"I know you are content in the shadows," Sola said, as gently as she could. "But you have to think of your son."
She nodded, reluctantly. "But surely Andrell, or you or Deva—"
"Of course we’ll help," Sola assured her. "But you are his mother. If things should go as we fear, you’ll be named his regent."
The idea terrified her. It won’t happen, she tried to tell herself. Kellom is very skilled, and my father-in-law is likely to live another sixty years. Well, perhaps not that much, but surely another twenty.
Still…
Even the best of men fall in battle, through bad luck as often as fighting someone better. And, even leaving aside the possibility of assassination—subtle or otherwise—seemingly healthy men can become otherwise with little warning. Especially, as Sola had pointed out, seemingly healthy men past sixty.
"What do I do…?" Fera asked, the gods as much as her sister-in-law.
"Learn," Sola replied simply. "I’ll help. And so will Deva and Keta. Whatever quarrels they have with each other, they have none with you, and they want what’s best for your son and for our people."
"When people realize what I’m doing…" She trailed off.
"They won’t. I promise." She smiled. "You’ll simply be spending more time with your sisters-in-law. Perfectly innocent." Her smile dropped a little. "Trust me, Fera, I know how to play with smoke and mirrors. I’ve been doing this for…a very long time."
Fera stared at her, surprised. She’d of course learned that her sister-in-law was far, far more intelligent than she appeared, but…she’d never realized exactly how much went into maintaining that illusion, or why she might have done it, beyond the simple pleasures she chased.
Or, rather, seemed to chase.
"…will people underestimate me as much as you?" she asked.
Sola blinked, then laughed—softly, so as not to wake the children. "One can only hope."
A strange thing to hope for, but…
Fera turned her back on her devious sister-in-law, watching her son, her thoughts full of war and worry. Even if everything went well, it would likely help her son navigate the court, to have an underestimated ally who wanted only his good.
And if everything went wrong, it would keep them both alive.
She took a deep breath. "I should go back to my rooms now," she said, softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow."
"Of course,” Sola murmured, stepping aside to let her pass.
Fera bent and kissed her son one more time, then walked away, trying to pretend that nothing had changed.
Hushabye, baby, have no fear,
the night is long, but Mamma’s here.
Year: 987 FY
Characters: Fera, Sola
Warnings: Discussion of war, hints at potential kidnapping/assassination
Notes: This takes place in the Legitimate Sorell AU.
"Hushabye, baby, close your eyes,
the sun’s asleep, he’s left the skies.
Hushabye, baby, rest your head,
the moon is here to guard your bed.
Hushabye, baby, dream away,
the stars are coming out to play.
Hushabye, baby, have no fear,
the night is long, but Mamma’s here."
There were more verses, but little Sorell was already fast asleep. Fera rested a hand briefly on her son’s cheek, then bent down to kiss his forehead before turning to go.
Sola was in the doorway, watching.
Fera flushed, despite herself. She and her glamorous sister-in-law had gotten much closer over the past few years, since their two babies shared the nursery, but she still found the older woman slightly intimidating when unexpected.
Sola smiled. "I just came to look in on Nava."
Of course. Fera smiled back. "She’s still sleeping, last I checked." Nava, at two, was a year younger than her own son.
Sola crossed the room over to her daughter’s crib, and stood there watching for a moment before turning back to Fera. "I don’t know if you’ve heard…"
Her heart sank. "Bad news?"
Sola nodded. "King Amassa has formally declared war. Asendar and the Islands will soon follow, and probably others, but we haven’t received word yet."
Fera turned to her son. Kellom would be in the heart of the fighting, she knew her husband and even if his very soul weren’t offended by a mage-line ruling a nation whose power more or less equaled that of his own…
"It may not be as bad as that," Sola said, cautiously, guessing where Fera’s thoughts were headed. "But you should prepare for the possibility."
She jerked, and looked back at her sister-in-law. "Your father—"
"Is not entirely old,, no, but he is past sixty and has been reigning since he was barely more than a child." She looked away, to her little girl, and sounded worryingly sad. "True, he’s reasonably healthy, but…I doubt you can depend on him living until your son reaches his majority."
Fera swallowed. "No, I suppose not…" The other part, the if Kellom is slain part, neither of them dared speak aloud.
"I know you are content in the shadows," Sola said, as gently as she could. "But you have to think of your son."
She nodded, reluctantly. "But surely Andrell, or you or Deva—"
"Of course we’ll help," Sola assured her. "But you are his mother. If things should go as we fear, you’ll be named his regent."
The idea terrified her. It won’t happen, she tried to tell herself. Kellom is very skilled, and my father-in-law is likely to live another sixty years. Well, perhaps not that much, but surely another twenty.
Still…
Even the best of men fall in battle, through bad luck as often as fighting someone better. And, even leaving aside the possibility of assassination—subtle or otherwise—seemingly healthy men can become otherwise with little warning. Especially, as Sola had pointed out, seemingly healthy men past sixty.
"What do I do…?" Fera asked, the gods as much as her sister-in-law.
"Learn," Sola replied simply. "I’ll help. And so will Deva and Keta. Whatever quarrels they have with each other, they have none with you, and they want what’s best for your son and for our people."
"When people realize what I’m doing…" She trailed off.
"They won’t. I promise." She smiled. "You’ll simply be spending more time with your sisters-in-law. Perfectly innocent." Her smile dropped a little. "Trust me, Fera, I know how to play with smoke and mirrors. I’ve been doing this for…a very long time."
Fera stared at her, surprised. She’d of course learned that her sister-in-law was far, far more intelligent than she appeared, but…she’d never realized exactly how much went into maintaining that illusion, or why she might have done it, beyond the simple pleasures she chased.
Or, rather, seemed to chase.
"…will people underestimate me as much as you?" she asked.
Sola blinked, then laughed—softly, so as not to wake the children. "One can only hope."
A strange thing to hope for, but…
Fera turned her back on her devious sister-in-law, watching her son, her thoughts full of war and worry. Even if everything went well, it would likely help her son navigate the court, to have an underestimated ally who wanted only his good.
And if everything went wrong, it would keep them both alive.
She took a deep breath. "I should go back to my rooms now," she said, softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow."
"Of course,” Sola murmured, stepping aside to let her pass.
Fera bent and kissed her son one more time, then walked away, trying to pretend that nothing had changed.
Hushabye, baby, have no fear,
the night is long, but Mamma’s here.