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fandomweekly2019-01-19 09:28 am
dray) wrote in fandomweekly2019-01-19 09:28 am
Entry tags:
[#003] Binding Time
Theme Prompt: #003 - Devil's Advocate
Title: Binding Time
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: Escaping a bad marriage, palm cutting, implicit drug use
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 974
Summary: Brandili and Akadine didn't settle in a frontier village for the challenge of it. At some point, Brandili decides it's time to face her fears, with the help of a friend.
"But let's just consider what would happen if you didn't kill him," Owen was leaning on the balcony rail, watching faerie-lights wink lazily in and out across the village in the dark of the night. It was seven years gone past, and the three of them were older, even if Owen didn't look it. He could hear Akadine snoring inside, and Brandili was once again sharing a pipe with him after an unusual night. Unlike most nights he came to town--which wasn't very often--Brandili hadn't been a side-party to his and Akadine's tryste. She'd been possessive, made him sit back and watch for most of the night before she let them have one another. Even now she was a little rigid, like she hadn't blown off a lick of steam.
She glared at him, and he leaned away, afraid he'd taken a step too far out of line.
"I'm just saying," Owen sounded a little defensive, "if he knows where your daughter is, and he hasn't got a grudge on you for leaving him--if he's promised to come for her when she turns fourteen, it might be safer than sending her across the sea--with the company of your pirate friends, no less, to live with your cousins."
"You'd be wrong," Brandili said. "And I'm not giving my girl up to a piss-pot who thinks he's got the magic touch, even if it meant she could inherit this little sliver of backwoods." She'd been growing her hair out; only a year's growth or so, but Owen realized she'd stopped shaving it, and realized what it meant.
"Brandili, if you murder the Duke, there are going to be repercussions. The only reason the entire Everwood isn't crawling with men sawing their way through the forest is because he's..."
"Insane about his godly connection with the land?"
"...eccentric." Owen had the decency to look uncomfortable.
"You know the law here. You tell me. I am his wife, absconded or not. Would his death not make me ruler in his stead?"
"What you're talking about is illegal," Owen replied, and took the pipe she passed him only reluctantly.
Brandili pulled something out of the folds of her gown, then. In the darkness, for a moment it looked like a cane, and Owen paused mid-draw to stare at her. Then he realized by its fletching that it was not a cane, nor a switch.
"I need your help one more time," she told him, proffering the wicked looking arrowhead. "I want him to burn. From the inside out. He'll know what it feels like to be claimed and ruined."
Owen sat the pipe down on the little table and shook his head as he pushed the arrow to one side. "My lady... you and Akadine and your girls should rather leave and be safe across the sea, and you can put this revenge behind you."
Brandili seized his palm and, yanking his glove free, drew blood with one swift knick, which she mingled with her own. She spat in her hand and a red little cloud seeped away from her closed fist, proof of magic sealed. "We're brothers in blood now," she told him. "Blood brothers aid one another. I'll owe you everything."
"Again," Owen sighed.
"Again, for what it costs me."
Owen hesitated, and then took the arrow delicately in his hands. Nothing seemed to happen... but then, Owen's brand of magic was not the flashy thing most knew how to use. "You're balancing a great wrong done you and yours. Let the spirits of justice aid and defend you when you need it most." When he gave the arrow back, Brandili had to pass it from hand to hand. It singed.
She took his shoulders in one arm and squeezed him close. "Officially, welcome to the family."
Though he frowned, Owen slipped an arm around her waist and squeezed her back. "I hope you don't mind if I save the celebrations for after."
Title: Binding Time
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: Escaping a bad marriage, palm cutting, implicit drug use
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 974
Summary: Brandili and Akadine didn't settle in a frontier village for the challenge of it. At some point, Brandili decides it's time to face her fears, with the help of a friend.
Pale fingers play through Brandili's waves of black hair. She's cradled by furs and the fire is stoked at the foot of the bed, but she can't feel the heat. She's numb. His voice murmurs platitudes, unkindly meant. He loves her hair, she is going to make a fine mother to his children, she's lucky to have landed on his doorstep; the court would have eaten up a foreigner like her with their tea and petit fours. She looks into his face and sees a smile that doesn't reach his hazel eyes. He's won something. She hadn't thought she'd given it, but he thinks he's won.
Three months have passed and she has to hide the bump. She's found that even lingering in his presence makes her blood boil. Finally, heat in this frozen wasteland... none she wants, but she'll take it. The scullery is empty at this time of the night, after the supper's gone around but before the tomorrow's bread has risen. She's perched on a stool, waiting as deft shears saw through dark hair. A black hole is opening under her as her locks fall away. She's already embraced the sense of freefall, light-headed. "Do you ever shave?" she asks the scholar who is silently working over her. Humour keeps the dark from having at. "How do I know you're good with a razor when all I ever seen is peach fuzz?"
"Trust me, if Akadine were doing this, you'd be short an ear." There's a stifled laugh from somewhere behind her, a crass denial muttered where her staunch defender keeps watch. The scholar drops another hank, says, "you'll be clean as a baby's behind by the time I'm done." He stumbles, awkwardly, and Brandili clenches her jaw as her hands tighten around her middle. Every day since they'd hatched this plan, she reminds herself that she's getting out of here.
Three months have passed and she has to hide the bump. She's found that even lingering in his presence makes her blood boil. Finally, heat in this frozen wasteland... none she wants, but she'll take it. The scullery is empty at this time of the night, after the supper's gone around but before the tomorrow's bread has risen. She's perched on a stool, waiting as deft shears saw through dark hair. A black hole is opening under her as her locks fall away. She's already embraced the sense of freefall, light-headed. "Do you ever shave?" she asks the scholar who is silently working over her. Humour keeps the dark from having at. "How do I know you're good with a razor when all I ever seen is peach fuzz?"
"Trust me, if Akadine were doing this, you'd be short an ear." There's a stifled laugh from somewhere behind her, a crass denial muttered where her staunch defender keeps watch. The scholar drops another hank, says, "you'll be clean as a baby's behind by the time I'm done." He stumbles, awkwardly, and Brandili clenches her jaw as her hands tighten around her middle. Every day since they'd hatched this plan, she reminds herself that she's getting out of here.
"But let's just consider what would happen if you didn't kill him," Owen was leaning on the balcony rail, watching faerie-lights wink lazily in and out across the village in the dark of the night. It was seven years gone past, and the three of them were older, even if Owen didn't look it. He could hear Akadine snoring inside, and Brandili was once again sharing a pipe with him after an unusual night. Unlike most nights he came to town--which wasn't very often--Brandili hadn't been a side-party to his and Akadine's tryste. She'd been possessive, made him sit back and watch for most of the night before she let them have one another. Even now she was a little rigid, like she hadn't blown off a lick of steam.
She glared at him, and he leaned away, afraid he'd taken a step too far out of line.
"I'm just saying," Owen sounded a little defensive, "if he knows where your daughter is, and he hasn't got a grudge on you for leaving him--if he's promised to come for her when she turns fourteen, it might be safer than sending her across the sea--with the company of your pirate friends, no less, to live with your cousins."
"You'd be wrong," Brandili said. "And I'm not giving my girl up to a piss-pot who thinks he's got the magic touch, even if it meant she could inherit this little sliver of backwoods." She'd been growing her hair out; only a year's growth or so, but Owen realized she'd stopped shaving it, and realized what it meant.
"Brandili, if you murder the Duke, there are going to be repercussions. The only reason the entire Everwood isn't crawling with men sawing their way through the forest is because he's..."
"Insane about his godly connection with the land?"
"...eccentric." Owen had the decency to look uncomfortable.
"You know the law here. You tell me. I am his wife, absconded or not. Would his death not make me ruler in his stead?"
"What you're talking about is illegal," Owen replied, and took the pipe she passed him only reluctantly.
Brandili pulled something out of the folds of her gown, then. In the darkness, for a moment it looked like a cane, and Owen paused mid-draw to stare at her. Then he realized by its fletching that it was not a cane, nor a switch.
"I need your help one more time," she told him, proffering the wicked looking arrowhead. "I want him to burn. From the inside out. He'll know what it feels like to be claimed and ruined."
Owen sat the pipe down on the little table and shook his head as he pushed the arrow to one side. "My lady... you and Akadine and your girls should rather leave and be safe across the sea, and you can put this revenge behind you."
Brandili seized his palm and, yanking his glove free, drew blood with one swift knick, which she mingled with her own. She spat in her hand and a red little cloud seeped away from her closed fist, proof of magic sealed. "We're brothers in blood now," she told him. "Blood brothers aid one another. I'll owe you everything."
"Again," Owen sighed.
"Again, for what it costs me."
Owen hesitated, and then took the arrow delicately in his hands. Nothing seemed to happen... but then, Owen's brand of magic was not the flashy thing most knew how to use. "You're balancing a great wrong done you and yours. Let the spirits of justice aid and defend you when you need it most." When he gave the arrow back, Brandili had to pass it from hand to hand. It singed.
She took his shoulders in one arm and squeezed him close. "Officially, welcome to the family."
Though he frowned, Owen slipped an arm around her waist and squeezed her back. "I hope you don't mind if I save the celebrations for after."