[Fire Emblem 10] Silver-Plated Whore

[runiclore]

Silver-Plated Whore
By: Amber Michelle
Prompt: zealot
Character(s): Jared
Words: 552

For: runespoor7 (original request post is here)

Jared is, uh... colorful in his narration. Just a warning. :D



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They called her a miracle worker, the Maiden of Dawn, though Jared had other terms he used to reference her when absolutely necessary; rebel leader and zealot priestess in formal reports - and no, he didn't know her origin, though she claimed to be a native of Daein, nor did he care. In private, usually to Avery, she was scum, sometimes that silver-plated whore - too beautiful, too good to be true, the type that should be bled, arrested, put through her paces until she collapsed, good for nothing.

Your excuses pile up, Numida's last letter said in cramped, bold handwriting. We placed you in Daein for results. If you value your rank--

Jared had valued his rank, once. He'd maintained a perfect record in Seliora's provincial army, and when his forehead hit the glass ceiling, he killed two men to break past it, blackmailed another, and saved a senator's worthless life. Begnion's ranking system was horseshit; you were born with prestige, or you slept your way up, like their fop of a prime minister. He'd speculate the man manipulated his way into the imperial bedchamber if the empress weren't so young. Give it time, he'd said to Avery. Twenty gold says she'll hold the reins when it happens. Little spitfire.

Silver-haired Micaiah, on the other hand, was born to be bent over a desk - or a table, or a prison cot, he wasn't picky. What was she, but street scum in the right place at the right time? The natives would believe in anything shiny enough, pretty enough - it was the hair, and he wondered, was it coarse or fine? - as long as they heard what they wanted to hear. She told them they had a king, they cheered. She told the king he would have a country if he bled gold for her, and he threw Daein at her feet.

What they'd forgotten, and what Jared intended to remind them of when he slit her pale throat, was the passing of the deed into Begnion's hands, and therefore his own. Daein was his. The senate didn't care how he achieved results as long as they got what they wanted. They weren't much better than commoners. He should know.

If he returned, defeated, to Begnion, there would be no ladder to climb. He would grub dirt like his ancestors beside sub-human filth, eek out a living between winters by breaking his back in the fields - cotton, wheat, corn, the Parsian vineyards and Culbert's orchards.

Some time, some place, the Silver Maiden would leave her friends and render herself vulnerable. His agents assured him this was a habit of hers, that she sought solitude after waving and smiling to her adoring subjects and flinched away from close company same as she did when confronted by a sword or an axe, or the back of a hand. The liberation army would celebrate their apparent victory, she would walk apart from them, and Jared-- he would tarnish her pretty hair with rust and blood. He would take the silver whore down with him.

Daein could have its victory - but they'd have it without their silver goddess. She was his.


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Comments

[searains.livejournal.com]

This is really cool. I like it lots - I like the perspective (especially silver-plated whore and his thoughts on begnion's prime minister. hee), I like the language, and I like how you tied it into the plot. It's just neat stuff.

[runiclore.livejournal.com]

Thank you! (I can't resist a stab at Sephiran. XD)