kawa~ inspiration #167
Dec. 20th, 2006 09:06 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Baby Steps
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ kawa~ 167. My gawd~ I haven't written Raykin in a month and a half. That's so weird. It feels like coming home writing the desert kingdom again XD Kazin's fun with all their trees and scents to describe, but I do so love my red desert <3 That said, I'm not as happy with this as I could be =/ I'm going to be rewriting this one I think.
~ ~ ~
Mithé jumped as a sharp knock at his door jolted him from his thoughts. ‘Still busy,’ he called back through the door, clearing his throat to ward off the slight scratchiness to his voice, as well as the pesky ‘no you’re not’ at the back of his mind.
‘Yes, Majesty,’ came the muffled reply. There was a shuffling sound outside the door as the woman paced around.
Mithé sighed heavily and stared down at his desk, hands clasped in his lap as his thumbs kneaded nervously at each other. The nanny’s voice had become a familiar sound through his door over the past two and a half weeks, though he had only ever seen her face twice.
‘Twice more than you’ve seen her charge,’ the back of his mind nagged.
He sighed and closed his eyes. He wasn’t ready yet. Would he ever be? It had nearly been three weeks now, and all he’d done was lock himself away in the office or hide in his room.
The faint but unmistakable cries of an infant pealed through the window behind him, wracking him with guilt all over again. His head dipped involuntarily lower, and his frown deepened over his closed eyes.
The nanny stopped pacing outside for a few moments as she caught the sound as well, then Mithé heard an irritable sigh as she walked off. Whether she was irritated at Mithé or the baby, he couldn’t guess. Probably both.
The distant screaming from the room above, still clear despite the distance and the balcony, continued to gnaw and grate at him for long minutes, but it still echoed in his mind when it finally finished.
‘He’s not an it,’ his mind told him, and he could almost hear Alurié’s voice in the words.
He sighed angrily at himself, then pushed the chair back with a loud scrape. ‘Just go,’ he told himself through gritted teeth. He could decide how he felt when he got up there. If he walked in and saw a killer, he could walk straight back out again.
He clung tightly to the balustrade as he climbed the stairs from his office to the sleeping quarters, shaking his head briefly as he did. It wasn’t the boy’s fault, he knew that, and he’d never blamed him for Alurié’s death… but there was still some tiny, irrational part of his mind that kept telling him, if he wasn’t here, Alurié still would be.
He hoped against everything that he wouldn’t see a killer. He wanted to just see the boy who was his and Alurié’s son, not the one who had killed his wife.
By the time he reached the hallway at the top of the stairs, his face was set in steely determination.
The woman who sat on a chair outside the baby’s bedroom was picking her nails, and looked up at the sound of his footsteps. Her hands instantly dropped as her mouth opened in shock, then her eyes softened and she stood, her face worried. ‘Are you unwell, Majesty? You look deathly pale.’
‘I want to see him,’ Mithé demanded, understanding the woman’s anxiety with the weak, quavering voice that came from his lips.
The woman’s face grew even more worried. ‘Is that wise, Majesty? Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but you don’t seem ready yet.’
Mithé shook his head. ‘I’m not,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t think I ever will be, but if I leave it too long, I’ll only ever… I want to see my son.’
The woman dipped her head. ‘Yes, Majesty.’ She rested one hand on the door handle and briefly raised her eyebrows at him.
He nodded briefly, wringing his hands as they hung by his sides.
‘Good luck, Majesty,’ she said with a warm smile, then pushed the door open.
The nanny was beaming as Mithé stepped through the doorway. She jiggled a bundle of blue blankets at her chest, one hand supporting a tiny little head, dusted with downy black hair.
The bundle moaned, then gave a loud squawk. The nanny’s hand stroked that soft, downy little head, hushing quietly to calm him.
Mithé realised he hadn’t moved since the door had clicked shut behind him, and the nanny’s beaming face was slowly growing more anxious, though she tried to stay happy and welcoming. She broke eye contact with him and craned her neck back to look at the baby’s face.
‘Guess who’s come to see you?’ she said in a high pitched voice. Mithé could hear the ‘finally’ she hadn’t said. ‘It’s your daddy! It’s Papa!’
Finally Mithé got his feet moving, though his legs felt a good deal heavier than usual. Maybe that was because they were so numb, it was like carrying around dead-weights.
The nanny adjusted the baby in her arms, turning him so Mithé could see his face.
Nolryn stared up at him with dark, sleepy eyes, still red from his crying fit earlier. His pudgy little face was red and blotchy from the effort, but now he just looked tired.
‘It’s “Majesty”,’ Mithé corrected in a quiet mumble.
Nolryn continued to stare at him, then yawned widely and stuck out one tiny hand. His wrist was barely the size of Mithé’s smallest finger.
‘Would you like to hold him, Majesty?’ the nanny asked quietly.
Mithé looked down at his son’s innocent little face, his eyes closed now as he dozed off in his blankets.
He shook his head. ‘Baby steps,’ he murmured.
~ ~ ~
Also~ just to clarify, no, this isn't why Nol calls him Majesty instead of Papa/Dad/Fahter/Whatever. Raykinian princes and princesses have always called their parents Majesty. Just a little Raykinian quirk that the other kingdoms (and indeed a number of non-royalty Raykinians) snerk at X3
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ kawa~ 167. My gawd~ I haven't written Raykin in a month and a half. That's so weird. It feels like coming home writing the desert kingdom again XD Kazin's fun with all their trees and scents to describe, but I do so love my red desert <3 That said, I'm not as happy with this as I could be =/ I'm going to be rewriting this one I think.
Mithé jumped as a sharp knock at his door jolted him from his thoughts. ‘Still busy,’ he called back through the door, clearing his throat to ward off the slight scratchiness to his voice, as well as the pesky ‘no you’re not’ at the back of his mind.
‘Yes, Majesty,’ came the muffled reply. There was a shuffling sound outside the door as the woman paced around.
Mithé sighed heavily and stared down at his desk, hands clasped in his lap as his thumbs kneaded nervously at each other. The nanny’s voice had become a familiar sound through his door over the past two and a half weeks, though he had only ever seen her face twice.
‘Twice more than you’ve seen her charge,’ the back of his mind nagged.
He sighed and closed his eyes. He wasn’t ready yet. Would he ever be? It had nearly been three weeks now, and all he’d done was lock himself away in the office or hide in his room.
The faint but unmistakable cries of an infant pealed through the window behind him, wracking him with guilt all over again. His head dipped involuntarily lower, and his frown deepened over his closed eyes.
The nanny stopped pacing outside for a few moments as she caught the sound as well, then Mithé heard an irritable sigh as she walked off. Whether she was irritated at Mithé or the baby, he couldn’t guess. Probably both.
The distant screaming from the room above, still clear despite the distance and the balcony, continued to gnaw and grate at him for long minutes, but it still echoed in his mind when it finally finished.
‘He’s not an it,’ his mind told him, and he could almost hear Alurié’s voice in the words.
He sighed angrily at himself, then pushed the chair back with a loud scrape. ‘Just go,’ he told himself through gritted teeth. He could decide how he felt when he got up there. If he walked in and saw a killer, he could walk straight back out again.
He clung tightly to the balustrade as he climbed the stairs from his office to the sleeping quarters, shaking his head briefly as he did. It wasn’t the boy’s fault, he knew that, and he’d never blamed him for Alurié’s death… but there was still some tiny, irrational part of his mind that kept telling him, if he wasn’t here, Alurié still would be.
He hoped against everything that he wouldn’t see a killer. He wanted to just see the boy who was his and Alurié’s son, not the one who had killed his wife.
By the time he reached the hallway at the top of the stairs, his face was set in steely determination.
The woman who sat on a chair outside the baby’s bedroom was picking her nails, and looked up at the sound of his footsteps. Her hands instantly dropped as her mouth opened in shock, then her eyes softened and she stood, her face worried. ‘Are you unwell, Majesty? You look deathly pale.’
‘I want to see him,’ Mithé demanded, understanding the woman’s anxiety with the weak, quavering voice that came from his lips.
The woman’s face grew even more worried. ‘Is that wise, Majesty? Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but you don’t seem ready yet.’
Mithé shook his head. ‘I’m not,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t think I ever will be, but if I leave it too long, I’ll only ever… I want to see my son.’
The woman dipped her head. ‘Yes, Majesty.’ She rested one hand on the door handle and briefly raised her eyebrows at him.
He nodded briefly, wringing his hands as they hung by his sides.
‘Good luck, Majesty,’ she said with a warm smile, then pushed the door open.
The nanny was beaming as Mithé stepped through the doorway. She jiggled a bundle of blue blankets at her chest, one hand supporting a tiny little head, dusted with downy black hair.
The bundle moaned, then gave a loud squawk. The nanny’s hand stroked that soft, downy little head, hushing quietly to calm him.
Mithé realised he hadn’t moved since the door had clicked shut behind him, and the nanny’s beaming face was slowly growing more anxious, though she tried to stay happy and welcoming. She broke eye contact with him and craned her neck back to look at the baby’s face.
‘Guess who’s come to see you?’ she said in a high pitched voice. Mithé could hear the ‘finally’ she hadn’t said. ‘It’s your daddy! It’s Papa!’
Finally Mithé got his feet moving, though his legs felt a good deal heavier than usual. Maybe that was because they were so numb, it was like carrying around dead-weights.
The nanny adjusted the baby in her arms, turning him so Mithé could see his face.
Nolryn stared up at him with dark, sleepy eyes, still red from his crying fit earlier. His pudgy little face was red and blotchy from the effort, but now he just looked tired.
‘It’s “Majesty”,’ Mithé corrected in a quiet mumble.
Nolryn continued to stare at him, then yawned widely and stuck out one tiny hand. His wrist was barely the size of Mithé’s smallest finger.
‘Would you like to hold him, Majesty?’ the nanny asked quietly.
Mithé looked down at his son’s innocent little face, his eyes closed now as he dozed off in his blankets.
He shook his head. ‘Baby steps,’ he murmured.
Also~ just to clarify, no, this isn't why Nol calls him Majesty instead of Papa/Dad/Fahter/Whatever. Raykinian princes and princesses have always called their parents Majesty. Just a little Raykinian quirk that the other kingdoms (and indeed a number of non-royalty Raykinians) snerk at X3
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Date: 2006-12-20 02:40 pm (UTC)Poor daddy, but losing the wife would be hard like that ;~;