[Fire Emblem 9/10] [Drabble 18] Empathy
Apr. 21st, 2009 05:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreEmpathy
Author: Amber Michelle
Challenge: 18 – rumination
Word Count: 500
Game: Radiant Dawn
Warnings: spoilers up to chapter four, to be safe.
Cross-posted at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fe_drabble.
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The Crimeans preferred floral and herbal teas, which Sanaki could taste even in the cup brewed from leaves the servant assured her were imported from Begnion. Instead of the traditional accompaniments of ginger and cinnamon, plum or dark berry, there were hints of lavender and vanilla. She recalled the purse of Elincia's lips when she was a guest in Begnion, taking tea in the gardens because it was the polite thing to do when one requested aid for one's country. Strong, she'd said, when asked if it was to her liking.
Strong. Sanaki liked to think Begnion was strong - that she was its support, that she cupped it between her hands like a precious gem and protected it from harm. She never thought it would be stolen - that it could slither between her fingers like a chain of polished gold.
Delicate cream lace gathered at her elbow, fluttered when she reached for the teapot to fill her cup. The dress was bronze, almost gold but not quite. It made her arms look white and thin. The dresses they offered belonged to the queen years ago, when she was Sanaki's age; she smelled the cedar, the dusty tinge of mothballs, though attempts had been made to perfume them with incense. At home she would have oils and orange blossoms in water; at home, she would have her own clothing, her own luxuries.
At home, were she to await a queen's convenience, the time would stretch to days.
Crimea promised to meet her after greeting their allies. The table was set for four; Sanaki supposed the others would join them. It wasn't done that way in Begnion, but Elincia hadn't forced her to make her plea before the council of nobles, nor had she required anything of Sanaki other than assurance the treaties they spoke of would be honored. She wasn't required to wait weeks for an answer.
Her mentor told her never to hold the weak in contempt or put faith in the strong; time always created circumstances in which their positions might be reversed. Countries rose and fell according to that principle. And here she was, Empress of Begnion, sipping tea in Melior and wearing a borrowed dress because they'd not had time to pack a change of clothes when they fled the cathedral with Lekain's dogs a step behind. All she had was the crimson mantle of her office, and a gilt-edged tome to remind her of Sephiran's promise to meet her again. She had her name, her heritage, a promise, but the jewel had slipped from her grasp.
If apologies were enough, Sanaki would sink to her knees before Crimea. She remembered Elincia's tears, glimpsed by chance through a curtain of wisteria, when Sanaki's thoughts dwelled on the terrible shade of that dress. An empress had no use, she'd thought, for empathy. Begnion was fortunate Elincia did not agree.
.
Author: Amber Michelle
Challenge: 18 – rumination
Word Count: 500
Game: Radiant Dawn
Warnings: spoilers up to chapter four, to be safe.
Cross-posted at
fe_drabble..................................................
The Crimeans preferred floral and herbal teas, which Sanaki could taste even in the cup brewed from leaves the servant assured her were imported from Begnion. Instead of the traditional accompaniments of ginger and cinnamon, plum or dark berry, there were hints of lavender and vanilla. She recalled the purse of Elincia's lips when she was a guest in Begnion, taking tea in the gardens because it was the polite thing to do when one requested aid for one's country. Strong, she'd said, when asked if it was to her liking.
Strong. Sanaki liked to think Begnion was strong - that she was its support, that she cupped it between her hands like a precious gem and protected it from harm. She never thought it would be stolen - that it could slither between her fingers like a chain of polished gold.
Delicate cream lace gathered at her elbow, fluttered when she reached for the teapot to fill her cup. The dress was bronze, almost gold but not quite. It made her arms look white and thin. The dresses they offered belonged to the queen years ago, when she was Sanaki's age; she smelled the cedar, the dusty tinge of mothballs, though attempts had been made to perfume them with incense. At home she would have oils and orange blossoms in water; at home, she would have her own clothing, her own luxuries.
At home, were she to await a queen's convenience, the time would stretch to days.
Crimea promised to meet her after greeting their allies. The table was set for four; Sanaki supposed the others would join them. It wasn't done that way in Begnion, but Elincia hadn't forced her to make her plea before the council of nobles, nor had she required anything of Sanaki other than assurance the treaties they spoke of would be honored. She wasn't required to wait weeks for an answer.
Her mentor told her never to hold the weak in contempt or put faith in the strong; time always created circumstances in which their positions might be reversed. Countries rose and fell according to that principle. And here she was, Empress of Begnion, sipping tea in Melior and wearing a borrowed dress because they'd not had time to pack a change of clothes when they fled the cathedral with Lekain's dogs a step behind. All she had was the crimson mantle of her office, and a gilt-edged tome to remind her of Sephiran's promise to meet her again. She had her name, her heritage, a promise, but the jewel had slipped from her grasp.
If apologies were enough, Sanaki would sink to her knees before Crimea. She remembered Elincia's tears, glimpsed by chance through a curtain of wisteria, when Sanaki's thoughts dwelled on the terrible shade of that dress. An empress had no use, she'd thought, for empathy. Begnion was fortunate Elincia did not agree.
.