Fic: Soul Mate
Mar. 3rd, 2014 03:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meridian_roseTitle: Soul Mate
Fandom: Original
'Verse/Series: Kat (High Queen)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1625
Prompt: For the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trope_bingo prompt "matchmaker" and the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_tales prompt "purple"
Summary: AU. Kat consults a mystical matchmaker.
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply.
Author Notes: at end of fic
Index Page for this series: DW/ LJ
She ought to have lit incense to further add to the ambience of the shadowy tent but she'd been taken unawares – her fortune telling skills were limited and specific. Still, her clothing usually satisfied customers who expected a certain style. Her long red and black dress with subtle gold embroidery that glinted in the candlelight was matched by the scarlet scarf she wore over long brown hair dulled by age. Her chocolate brown eyes stared at the young queen sitting opposite her, who showed no sign of being either impressed or sceptical.
"You wish me to find you a husband, Majesty?" She shifted in her seat, her charm bracelet jangling. The queen had sworn never to take a husband. To do so would unseat her from her throne. The eldest son was the rightful heir to the kingdom, and if the eldest child were female then the oldest boy. Only if, as in this case, there was a sole female heir, could she could reign as queen. At least until she married, and became the king's wife, a queen in title only with no power.
Katerina shook her head, auburn curls shifting about her shoulders. "I must remain unwed."
The matchmaker nodded, relaxing against the soft cushion at her back. Far be it for her to advise this headstrong monarch to give up her birthright. Though if anyone could revoke the outdated laws of the Commonwealth, it might be Gloriana Katerina with her strength of will and her few, yet dedicated, followers in her quest to become and to remain the second High Queen. "Then what can I do for her highness?"
Katerina leaned forward over the rough wooden table. "You are a matchmaker like no other, so I've heard. You find true love – soul mates." She said the last words hesitantly as if they were foreign to her.
The matchmaker nodded.
"I will not wed but I do not wish to be alone. I have friends, of course." She glanced at the tent door, flapping gently in the breeze. Outside, her bodyguard and the archivist were waiting.
It was the archivist, Callaghan, who'd brought the queen to her. He said that he didn't believe in prophecy, but the woman he was dating – an insubstantial affair that would not last the week – had dragged him to the visiting matchmaker's tent for the fun of it. She'd read both their cards without outright mention of their inevitably short-lived liaison and he'd been suitably impressed by her insight.
He was a close friend of Katerina's to the despair of many. He was a commoner, a hawk, feckless, sniffed the gossips, who preferred monarchs to be kept away from all but the richest nobles and their interests. It was clear that their disdain only made Katerina – an outcast of a different sort - love him more. Their bond was obvious to the matchmaker, a full, rich, purple aura that she often saw between siblings, quite unlike the pale pink and yellow fluff of his relationship with the blonde woman accompanying him yesterday.
"I have enemies too," the queen went on. "Who would gladly see me dethroned. And I have lovers." She stared defiantly at the matchmaker.
If she'd hoped to be shocking, she would be disappointed. The matchmaker merely shrugged. "You wish to find a lover who will not betray you? One who will be satisfied if you draw him close yet keep him at a certain necessary distance."
Katerina hesitated. "I suppose so. I have no actual love for those I take to my bed. I cannot afford the risk. Many would like to romance their way to kingship. Yet I would like to find one worth that risk. One who would stand always by my side, without wanting to take my crown."
She nodded. Scrying rather than reading the cards would be most suitable in this situation. The matchmaker fetched a clay bowl which she placed in the centre of the table, and filled it with water from a copper jug. She sat once more, and stared into the bowl, the water within still and dark. She closed her eyes, connecting herself to the world beyond, the realm of spirit.
When she was ready she opened them again and placed her hand on the table, palm up. She nodded to Katerina and, with some reluctance, the queen placed her own hand over the rougher skin of the matchmaker.
There were images, sounds, colours, and beyond these an instinctual knowing, like a waking dream. This was her gift, one that had not made her rich, but comfortable, and given her an interesting life as she travelled from town to town helping people find love.
The matchmaker sighed and drew back, getting to her feet. "Forgive me, Majesty."
The queen stood, confusion in her blue eyes. "You saw nothing?"
It might be safer to lie but gifts like these came with caveats. If she abused her talents, they might well be taken from her. Heavy-hearted, the woman said, "I saw many things." It was love that her gift honed in on, and so as always she almost always kept her observations to relationships, though as usual she'd seen glimpses of other things likely to come to pass, both good and bad.
Katerina looked at her expectantly and the matchmaker moistened her lips, trying to soften the blow she must deliver. "You will always have friends, like the archivist. You will have many lovers, and there are maybe two who will be more than brief dalliances, who could be part of your life if you choose."
"But a soul mate?"
She shook her head. "I see no such match. It does not exist. I am sorry."
Katerina blinked hard and smoothed at her dress. "I see. Perhaps that is for the best. Monogamy would not suit me anyway."
The matchmaker made no comment. The queen might never find one man to satisfy all her needs and only find joy in a more open relationship. However, if there were such a one as the queen sought, perhaps she would compromise on her desire for freedom. Without the existence of such a mate to investigate further, it was impossible to say, and so the matchmaker would not venture an opinion.
Katerina forced a smile as she pulled out a small leather bag. "Nor I would not want to lose my beloved, like Catriona did."
The legendary Queen Catriona and her doomed love affair was a story everyone in the Commonwealth knew. There were enough similarities with the red haired Gloriana, known always by her secondary name of Katerina, to draw comparisons. Catriona could not wed either, and the besotted Liam died before she ever confessed her love to him. Was it better to have known love only to lose it, as Catriona had, or better to never feel the sting of loss? The matchmaker had never loved or lost and could not say one way or the other.
The queen placed the bag on the table, the coins inside clinking against one another. "Thank you."
Anything she said would be inadequate so the matchmaker simply bowed deeply as the queen turned and left the tent.
Kat blinked in the sunlight. Cal was sprawled on the grass, reading, and looked up as she approached.
"So?"
She shook her head.
"Was she a fraud? I didn’t think she was." Cal scowled and got his to feet, ready to tackle the matchmaker but Kat put out a restraining hand.
"I believe she spoke truly." A lie could have brought her to the Citadel for months, promising to screen potential suitors to help find the right one, but instead the matchmaker had unequivocally sent her away.
"What, then? It's not someone awful is it?" Cal began listing inappropriate suitors; the captain of the guards who hated being ruled over by a woman, the creepy diplomat from Caitir whose gaze lingered too long at her bosom, the brat prince of some kingdom Kat had never visited.
Kat put her hands on his shoulders. "Cal, sush." When he complied, Kat gave a wry smile. "She said I have no soul mate. That he does not exist."
"Kat." He said her name like an apology.
She shrugged. "She said I'll always have friends. I'll always have you."
Cal wrapped his arms around her as she let a few hot tears of disappointment fall. He stroked her hair, yes, of course she would always have him, she was the queen, he'd be grubbing for insects in the woods if he weren't friends with her.
She laughed at that and pulled away, rubbing at her face. "Grubbing for insects? Honestly, Cal."
They made their way to the horses. Henri, leaning against a tree, was frowning in concentration as he scrawled on a parchment. He looked up from his letter at their approach. "Majesty. Are you ready to leave?"
"Yes. But please, finish writing your letter first."
"It's just a note to my mother, and if I send it at the next village and we make good time to the River Rain I reckon we'll be home about the same time as the message. Maybe before." He tucked the letter away in his saddlebag. "Majesty?"
She stroked her horse's nose. "Yes, Henri?"
"It doesn't seem as if you heard what you wanted. I'm sorry."
"I did not. Thank you, though."
"Prophecies are often wrong," Cal said, climbing into the saddle. "Maybe the matchmaker is too."
"You recommended the woman," Kat countered as she mounted her horse. They bickered for a while. When Cal changed the subject to his current lover – Kat was surprised he was still courting the woman - she tuned him out, dwelling on the long, lonely, road ahead.
Notes:
Un-beta'd and perhaps not my usual style. I've been reading some of those articles about how "everything you write sucks" and after feeling like a failure for a while, discarded the advice I disliked and picked a couple of tips to try out.
Hawk: an in-universe term slang term (not a slur) for those who are bisexual.
This is an AU in which Henri lives (as does his mother) as opposed to the canon storyline, but as a result Honor never exists.
Fandom: Original
'Verse/Series: Kat (High Queen)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1625
Prompt: For the
trope_bingo prompt "matchmaker" and the 100_tales prompt "purple"Summary: AU. Kat consults a mystical matchmaker.
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply.
Author Notes: at end of fic
Index Page for this series: DW/ LJ
She ought to have lit incense to further add to the ambience of the shadowy tent but she'd been taken unawares – her fortune telling skills were limited and specific. Still, her clothing usually satisfied customers who expected a certain style. Her long red and black dress with subtle gold embroidery that glinted in the candlelight was matched by the scarlet scarf she wore over long brown hair dulled by age. Her chocolate brown eyes stared at the young queen sitting opposite her, who showed no sign of being either impressed or sceptical.
"You wish me to find you a husband, Majesty?" She shifted in her seat, her charm bracelet jangling. The queen had sworn never to take a husband. To do so would unseat her from her throne. The eldest son was the rightful heir to the kingdom, and if the eldest child were female then the oldest boy. Only if, as in this case, there was a sole female heir, could she could reign as queen. At least until she married, and became the king's wife, a queen in title only with no power.
Katerina shook her head, auburn curls shifting about her shoulders. "I must remain unwed."
The matchmaker nodded, relaxing against the soft cushion at her back. Far be it for her to advise this headstrong monarch to give up her birthright. Though if anyone could revoke the outdated laws of the Commonwealth, it might be Gloriana Katerina with her strength of will and her few, yet dedicated, followers in her quest to become and to remain the second High Queen. "Then what can I do for her highness?"
Katerina leaned forward over the rough wooden table. "You are a matchmaker like no other, so I've heard. You find true love – soul mates." She said the last words hesitantly as if they were foreign to her.
The matchmaker nodded.
"I will not wed but I do not wish to be alone. I have friends, of course." She glanced at the tent door, flapping gently in the breeze. Outside, her bodyguard and the archivist were waiting.
It was the archivist, Callaghan, who'd brought the queen to her. He said that he didn't believe in prophecy, but the woman he was dating – an insubstantial affair that would not last the week – had dragged him to the visiting matchmaker's tent for the fun of it. She'd read both their cards without outright mention of their inevitably short-lived liaison and he'd been suitably impressed by her insight.
He was a close friend of Katerina's to the despair of many. He was a commoner, a hawk, feckless, sniffed the gossips, who preferred monarchs to be kept away from all but the richest nobles and their interests. It was clear that their disdain only made Katerina – an outcast of a different sort - love him more. Their bond was obvious to the matchmaker, a full, rich, purple aura that she often saw between siblings, quite unlike the pale pink and yellow fluff of his relationship with the blonde woman accompanying him yesterday.
"I have enemies too," the queen went on. "Who would gladly see me dethroned. And I have lovers." She stared defiantly at the matchmaker.
If she'd hoped to be shocking, she would be disappointed. The matchmaker merely shrugged. "You wish to find a lover who will not betray you? One who will be satisfied if you draw him close yet keep him at a certain necessary distance."
Katerina hesitated. "I suppose so. I have no actual love for those I take to my bed. I cannot afford the risk. Many would like to romance their way to kingship. Yet I would like to find one worth that risk. One who would stand always by my side, without wanting to take my crown."
She nodded. Scrying rather than reading the cards would be most suitable in this situation. The matchmaker fetched a clay bowl which she placed in the centre of the table, and filled it with water from a copper jug. She sat once more, and stared into the bowl, the water within still and dark. She closed her eyes, connecting herself to the world beyond, the realm of spirit.
When she was ready she opened them again and placed her hand on the table, palm up. She nodded to Katerina and, with some reluctance, the queen placed her own hand over the rougher skin of the matchmaker.
There were images, sounds, colours, and beyond these an instinctual knowing, like a waking dream. This was her gift, one that had not made her rich, but comfortable, and given her an interesting life as she travelled from town to town helping people find love.
The matchmaker sighed and drew back, getting to her feet. "Forgive me, Majesty."
The queen stood, confusion in her blue eyes. "You saw nothing?"
It might be safer to lie but gifts like these came with caveats. If she abused her talents, they might well be taken from her. Heavy-hearted, the woman said, "I saw many things." It was love that her gift honed in on, and so as always she almost always kept her observations to relationships, though as usual she'd seen glimpses of other things likely to come to pass, both good and bad.
Katerina looked at her expectantly and the matchmaker moistened her lips, trying to soften the blow she must deliver. "You will always have friends, like the archivist. You will have many lovers, and there are maybe two who will be more than brief dalliances, who could be part of your life if you choose."
"But a soul mate?"
She shook her head. "I see no such match. It does not exist. I am sorry."
Katerina blinked hard and smoothed at her dress. "I see. Perhaps that is for the best. Monogamy would not suit me anyway."
The matchmaker made no comment. The queen might never find one man to satisfy all her needs and only find joy in a more open relationship. However, if there were such a one as the queen sought, perhaps she would compromise on her desire for freedom. Without the existence of such a mate to investigate further, it was impossible to say, and so the matchmaker would not venture an opinion.
Katerina forced a smile as she pulled out a small leather bag. "Nor I would not want to lose my beloved, like Catriona did."
The legendary Queen Catriona and her doomed love affair was a story everyone in the Commonwealth knew. There were enough similarities with the red haired Gloriana, known always by her secondary name of Katerina, to draw comparisons. Catriona could not wed either, and the besotted Liam died before she ever confessed her love to him. Was it better to have known love only to lose it, as Catriona had, or better to never feel the sting of loss? The matchmaker had never loved or lost and could not say one way or the other.
The queen placed the bag on the table, the coins inside clinking against one another. "Thank you."
Anything she said would be inadequate so the matchmaker simply bowed deeply as the queen turned and left the tent.
Kat blinked in the sunlight. Cal was sprawled on the grass, reading, and looked up as she approached.
"So?"
She shook her head.
"Was she a fraud? I didn’t think she was." Cal scowled and got his to feet, ready to tackle the matchmaker but Kat put out a restraining hand.
"I believe she spoke truly." A lie could have brought her to the Citadel for months, promising to screen potential suitors to help find the right one, but instead the matchmaker had unequivocally sent her away.
"What, then? It's not someone awful is it?" Cal began listing inappropriate suitors; the captain of the guards who hated being ruled over by a woman, the creepy diplomat from Caitir whose gaze lingered too long at her bosom, the brat prince of some kingdom Kat had never visited.
Kat put her hands on his shoulders. "Cal, sush." When he complied, Kat gave a wry smile. "She said I have no soul mate. That he does not exist."
"Kat." He said her name like an apology.
She shrugged. "She said I'll always have friends. I'll always have you."
Cal wrapped his arms around her as she let a few hot tears of disappointment fall. He stroked her hair, yes, of course she would always have him, she was the queen, he'd be grubbing for insects in the woods if he weren't friends with her.
She laughed at that and pulled away, rubbing at her face. "Grubbing for insects? Honestly, Cal."
They made their way to the horses. Henri, leaning against a tree, was frowning in concentration as he scrawled on a parchment. He looked up from his letter at their approach. "Majesty. Are you ready to leave?"
"Yes. But please, finish writing your letter first."
"It's just a note to my mother, and if I send it at the next village and we make good time to the River Rain I reckon we'll be home about the same time as the message. Maybe before." He tucked the letter away in his saddlebag. "Majesty?"
She stroked her horse's nose. "Yes, Henri?"
"It doesn't seem as if you heard what you wanted. I'm sorry."
"I did not. Thank you, though."
"Prophecies are often wrong," Cal said, climbing into the saddle. "Maybe the matchmaker is too."
"You recommended the woman," Kat countered as she mounted her horse. They bickered for a while. When Cal changed the subject to his current lover – Kat was surprised he was still courting the woman - she tuned him out, dwelling on the long, lonely, road ahead.
Notes:
Un-beta'd and perhaps not my usual style. I've been reading some of those articles about how "everything you write sucks" and after feeling like a failure for a while, discarded the advice I disliked and picked a couple of tips to try out.
Hawk: an in-universe term slang term (not a slur) for those who are bisexual.
This is an AU in which Henri lives (as does his mother) as opposed to the canon storyline, but as a result Honor never exists.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-06 05:22 am (UTC)Yes, that makes slightly more sense but I think what this is really about is the emotional impact of the words. Saying "he felt sad" doesn't really affect the reader emotionally but if you put it like "he walked though the streets, looking in front of him and not really seeing; the rain was pouring down but he didn't open the umbrella he held in his hands and blah-blah-blah" it's more emotionally engaging.
On the other hand lots of times it's MUCH more descriptive to use shorter lines. Like “Lisa hated Tom.” (to quote the article) sometimes says it all and there's no need to go into all those details that will only draw the attention away from the plot and/or the character. Sometimes less is more.
So, yes, bb, you write as you write. The thing that really matters is not how many words you use but whether or not these words tell the story and evoke an emotional response. And yours do! :D
no subject
Date: 2014-04-07 06:14 pm (UTC)