Reggiejam
2015-03-15, 12:02 AM
Queen Kyria hadn't felt fear in decades. Not in the Sunset War, not when she had been summoned before the Quorum Pax, not when she was attacked by the Pavonian assassins or she had heard of the Ice Palace's infiltration and the death of Huanle. She had felt anger, felt vindication, felt the calm coolness of a plotted plan followed by flawless execution. But she felt fear now. In three years she would be forced to journey to the Nighthawk Grove, to take the place of her sister beneath the Nighthawk and to sleep half a century away while her twin reigned as Queen. It was not fear of what she might miss during her half century beneath the holy site. It was not fear of losing those she knew in this life to the ravages of time, her closest and most trusted would rest at the Grove with her, Meztli was of the Dragon's Blood, and Nezetkhamun was the Father of Dragons. It was fear, she knew, of what her sister would see when she looked out at the world Kyria had helped shape and what she might undo of it.
The alliance with the Concordat, the destruction of the Sunset War, the dissolution of the Pax Varinel, and the Mother forsaken Erlstorm. Loris was not like Kyria, she did not stand abject and removed from the world, pulling the strings of those around her and sacrificing the enemy to save one's own. Her devotion to the Mother was not just respect of power and an obligation by contract with Mother Night it was empowered passion for the faith and devotion to the teachings of the Call. Loris would not approve of the actions Kyria had taken. Not on the surface and possibly not even when she read Kyria's explanations. The thought prompted the Queen to pass a hand over the grimoire journal she had ordered scribed by Eevi.
Loris was too much like their mother like that. Too afraid to justify the ends with the means. Spending the half century Kyria had spent expanding the Freehold into a dominant power in the central north in the realm of Kina at Valineth's knee likely did little to solve the problem either. The Queen's fists clenched and if she could see she might have torn something but the risk it might be something of value was too great.
She had contacted Nezet using the amulet he had given her after Huanle's death and she knew he was coming but she couldn't help but reflect that his counsel, one of the few opinions she respected and relied on outside those of her Palace, might become an enemy of her sister's reign if for no other reason than for the Children's negative view on the Tzaltec. If only Jonah hadn't failed the trials and become Eldest she might have had a chance to undo the stance of the Children and leave instruction of the church and her sister to Meztli through Jonah but the young man had failed them and now some mutant claiming to be the reincarnated Tupelo was heading the Children. If there were blood near the surface of her skin it might yet have been drawn by her nails digging into her own palms.
This was to say nothing of her sister's innate squeamishness. She had fasted at the calls of their mother's mixing of blood resulting in affliction of the vampyre and had balked at the concept of killing those who stood in opposition. To Loris too many people were friends and lives stood as too sacred. Loris had no experience with the Blessing and she would kill one of her first meals through overeagerness for nothing else. The guilt of the death of one she knew would haunt her, she could very well be driven mad by it. Kyria had set a scene anyone would gladly walk into except the person walking into it, her sister. She hoped Nezet would arrive soon. The resounding silence from her Watchers and the useless or placating opinions of her Brood had done nothing to tame the passion that welled up inside her. Only the Atheling had said anything remotely of import, noting that were he given the chance he would renegotiate with the Mother the terms of their arrangement but such a proposition was of little use to the Queen now and did little to address her fears for the next half century. If only there were a way to ensure her sister's compliance with what was set before her. If only there was a way to make her see the truth that Kyria had laid out for her.
The alliance with the Concordat, the destruction of the Sunset War, the dissolution of the Pax Varinel, and the Mother forsaken Erlstorm. Loris was not like Kyria, she did not stand abject and removed from the world, pulling the strings of those around her and sacrificing the enemy to save one's own. Her devotion to the Mother was not just respect of power and an obligation by contract with Mother Night it was empowered passion for the faith and devotion to the teachings of the Call. Loris would not approve of the actions Kyria had taken. Not on the surface and possibly not even when she read Kyria's explanations. The thought prompted the Queen to pass a hand over the grimoire journal she had ordered scribed by Eevi.
Loris was too much like their mother like that. Too afraid to justify the ends with the means. Spending the half century Kyria had spent expanding the Freehold into a dominant power in the central north in the realm of Kina at Valineth's knee likely did little to solve the problem either. The Queen's fists clenched and if she could see she might have torn something but the risk it might be something of value was too great.
She had contacted Nezet using the amulet he had given her after Huanle's death and she knew he was coming but she couldn't help but reflect that his counsel, one of the few opinions she respected and relied on outside those of her Palace, might become an enemy of her sister's reign if for no other reason than for the Children's negative view on the Tzaltec. If only Jonah hadn't failed the trials and become Eldest she might have had a chance to undo the stance of the Children and leave instruction of the church and her sister to Meztli through Jonah but the young man had failed them and now some mutant claiming to be the reincarnated Tupelo was heading the Children. If there were blood near the surface of her skin it might yet have been drawn by her nails digging into her own palms.
This was to say nothing of her sister's innate squeamishness. She had fasted at the calls of their mother's mixing of blood resulting in affliction of the vampyre and had balked at the concept of killing those who stood in opposition. To Loris too many people were friends and lives stood as too sacred. Loris had no experience with the Blessing and she would kill one of her first meals through overeagerness for nothing else. The guilt of the death of one she knew would haunt her, she could very well be driven mad by it. Kyria had set a scene anyone would gladly walk into except the person walking into it, her sister. She hoped Nezet would arrive soon. The resounding silence from her Watchers and the useless or placating opinions of her Brood had done nothing to tame the passion that welled up inside her. Only the Atheling had said anything remotely of import, noting that were he given the chance he would renegotiate with the Mother the terms of their arrangement but such a proposition was of little use to the Queen now and did little to address her fears for the next half century. If only there were a way to ensure her sister's compliance with what was set before her. If only there was a way to make her see the truth that Kyria had laid out for her.