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[#004] I'm Livin' for the Day of Reck'nin' (October Daye Series)
Theme Prompt: #004 - Victory
Title: I’m Livin’ for the Day of Reck’nin’
Fandom: The October Daye Series
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 | Spoilers (sort of) for Once Broken Faith
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 999
Summary: Toby’s solved another case, but the cost may have been greater than she anticipated. An alternate ending to Once Broken Faith.
Victory feels kind of hollow when you don’t get everything you were hoping for.
I never even wanted to be a hero. I stumble into things with the grace of a bull half the time, bludgeoning things until it gets to be the way I want them to be. I do what I think is right, knowing that there will be a cost one day, but not ready to pay for it when the time comes. I think there’s a part of me that’s always known that there will come a point where the price will be too high to bear, but I didn’t think the time would be now.
I solve the case, but there’s a battle I can’t control happening on the floors below. The conclave stretches out for days, weeks on end, and I ignore all of it. I sit in the silence of the sleeper’s tower, resting my head against Tybalt’s chest so I can feel it rise and fall and remind myself that he’s not dead. I watch Quentin and Walther from the same perch, watch all of them as they miss entire gaps of their life. Sometimes I sleep and sometimes I don’t, but no one tries to force me to leave, probably because if they do, they know they’ll regret it.
Eventually the door creaks open, and Aethlin comes in, looking far more tired than he has any right to. It makes him seem older than he is, and he dismisses whatever staff is present with a wave of his hand. They don’t question it – a well trained staff never does – and he doesn’t move from the doorway until every last one of them is gone, and we’re alone.
It doesn’t seem to matter to him that I’m still there, but then again, I already knew the secret he’s going to give away. He doesn’t say anything to me, just moves towards the brier that holds his son and crashes down into the seat next to it as though his legs have lost the ability to hold him up, and that’s when I knew it was over.
“The conclave has elected to place the matter on hold.” On hold, in it’s own way, almost seems worse than denying it at all, and although I’m hearing the words, I’m having a hard time taking in the gravity of them, just because it’s the one option I never considered at all. “They feel like the atmosphere of the conclave now, what with the murders and the lack of representation from Highgarden, despite the tampering of the monarchy with the proceedings.”
So basically, a great big pile of pureblood bullshit.
In a lot of ways, it feels as though the world is dropping out from under me, and I cling to the nearest surface to try and hold myself together. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough, but I manage to force out two words that needed to be said:
“But Quentin …”
He reaches forward, placing a hand atop his son’s head, brushing his fingers through the teenager’s hair for a moment, and it’s then that the trappings that they’d put themselves in with this blind fosterage became all too clear. True, Quentin was able to try and have something of a normal existence while learning the rules of the realm, and had none of the pressures of being crown prince in the process, but it also meant that when things like this happened, Aethlin couldn’t allow his power as his father to come through and protect his son.
Or even if everyone did know who Quentin was, would that matter? Aethlin’s duty was to the Westlands first, then his family.
“It will only be a few years.” A few years is nothing to a pureblood, but it seems like an eternity from where I’m sitting, a changeling with only so many years to give. “I’m sure we can make them see reason by then.”
“Is that what you told Maida?”
There’s a stern, cold look at that question, and I swallow whatever retort I would have that would follow. It’s easy to blame Aethlin when he’s the one giving me the bad news, but the boy lying on that brier is still his son, and I know it pains him to see Quentin like this, just as much as it pains me.
“Oak and ash, October,” he says softly. “What do we do now?”
I never thought that I would have to be the one to provide solace and reassurance to the High King of the Westlands, but here we are. My life is full of things that I never thought I would have to do.
“We wait.” My voice is soft, but given that there are only two of us in the room, it’s hard to miss. “We wait, and we keep pushing until we win.”
He watches me, weighing the possibilities in that statement, knowing the speech I’d made earlier about the value of time. “No matter what it costs you?”
“They’re worth fighting for.” I made Tybalt a promise, after all. I would be there when he woke up, no matter how long it took. Faerie may be fair, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be kind, so while I may have to do things I regret, give up the parts of me that are still me in order to keep that promise, I’ll keep it all the same.
Aethlin nods, before getting to his feet. “The conclave is closed, Sir Daye. I believe you have some promises to keep.” Promises not made to the men in front of her. Promises made to the dead, and those are the worst kind to break.
I turn and brush a hand over Tybalt’s temple, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to sleeping lips. “I’ll be back,” I say softly, even though I don’t know if he can hear me. “I’ll see you soon.”
Hopefully, it will be much sooner than I think.
Title: I’m Livin’ for the Day of Reck’nin’
Fandom: The October Daye Series
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 | Spoilers (sort of) for Once Broken Faith
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 999
Summary: Toby’s solved another case, but the cost may have been greater than she anticipated. An alternate ending to Once Broken Faith.
Victory feels kind of hollow when you don’t get everything you were hoping for.
I never even wanted to be a hero. I stumble into things with the grace of a bull half the time, bludgeoning things until it gets to be the way I want them to be. I do what I think is right, knowing that there will be a cost one day, but not ready to pay for it when the time comes. I think there’s a part of me that’s always known that there will come a point where the price will be too high to bear, but I didn’t think the time would be now.
I solve the case, but there’s a battle I can’t control happening on the floors below. The conclave stretches out for days, weeks on end, and I ignore all of it. I sit in the silence of the sleeper’s tower, resting my head against Tybalt’s chest so I can feel it rise and fall and remind myself that he’s not dead. I watch Quentin and Walther from the same perch, watch all of them as they miss entire gaps of their life. Sometimes I sleep and sometimes I don’t, but no one tries to force me to leave, probably because if they do, they know they’ll regret it.
Eventually the door creaks open, and Aethlin comes in, looking far more tired than he has any right to. It makes him seem older than he is, and he dismisses whatever staff is present with a wave of his hand. They don’t question it – a well trained staff never does – and he doesn’t move from the doorway until every last one of them is gone, and we’re alone.
It doesn’t seem to matter to him that I’m still there, but then again, I already knew the secret he’s going to give away. He doesn’t say anything to me, just moves towards the brier that holds his son and crashes down into the seat next to it as though his legs have lost the ability to hold him up, and that’s when I knew it was over.
“The conclave has elected to place the matter on hold.” On hold, in it’s own way, almost seems worse than denying it at all, and although I’m hearing the words, I’m having a hard time taking in the gravity of them, just because it’s the one option I never considered at all. “They feel like the atmosphere of the conclave now, what with the murders and the lack of representation from Highgarden, despite the tampering of the monarchy with the proceedings.”
So basically, a great big pile of pureblood bullshit.
In a lot of ways, it feels as though the world is dropping out from under me, and I cling to the nearest surface to try and hold myself together. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough, but I manage to force out two words that needed to be said:
“But Quentin …”
He reaches forward, placing a hand atop his son’s head, brushing his fingers through the teenager’s hair for a moment, and it’s then that the trappings that they’d put themselves in with this blind fosterage became all too clear. True, Quentin was able to try and have something of a normal existence while learning the rules of the realm, and had none of the pressures of being crown prince in the process, but it also meant that when things like this happened, Aethlin couldn’t allow his power as his father to come through and protect his son.
Or even if everyone did know who Quentin was, would that matter? Aethlin’s duty was to the Westlands first, then his family.
“It will only be a few years.” A few years is nothing to a pureblood, but it seems like an eternity from where I’m sitting, a changeling with only so many years to give. “I’m sure we can make them see reason by then.”
“Is that what you told Maida?”
There’s a stern, cold look at that question, and I swallow whatever retort I would have that would follow. It’s easy to blame Aethlin when he’s the one giving me the bad news, but the boy lying on that brier is still his son, and I know it pains him to see Quentin like this, just as much as it pains me.
“Oak and ash, October,” he says softly. “What do we do now?”
I never thought that I would have to be the one to provide solace and reassurance to the High King of the Westlands, but here we are. My life is full of things that I never thought I would have to do.
“We wait.” My voice is soft, but given that there are only two of us in the room, it’s hard to miss. “We wait, and we keep pushing until we win.”
He watches me, weighing the possibilities in that statement, knowing the speech I’d made earlier about the value of time. “No matter what it costs you?”
“They’re worth fighting for.” I made Tybalt a promise, after all. I would be there when he woke up, no matter how long it took. Faerie may be fair, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be kind, so while I may have to do things I regret, give up the parts of me that are still me in order to keep that promise, I’ll keep it all the same.
Aethlin nods, before getting to his feet. “The conclave is closed, Sir Daye. I believe you have some promises to keep.” Promises not made to the men in front of her. Promises made to the dead, and those are the worst kind to break.
I turn and brush a hand over Tybalt’s temple, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to sleeping lips. “I’ll be back,” I say softly, even though I don’t know if he can hear me. “I’ll see you soon.”
Hopefully, it will be much sooner than I think.
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