15min fic #90
Jan. 17th, 2005 11:08 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Life from Death
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Mine again
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 90. Eighteenth day of Spring (October 10th), 4030.
~ ~ ~
Mithé hadn’t slept at all during the night. He hadn’t even glanced at his bed. He’d tried working, but his mind continued to wander to other things, and he’d quickly abandoned that idea, much as he’d cursed himself for it. Instead, he took to pacing, first around his office, then into the halls of the palace.
As the night wore on, the floor and walls of the palace, lit silver by moonlight, turned to a dirty grey as the first pale, milky rays of dawn began to seep into the building.
He stood impatiently at an eastern window for a moment, staring anxiously at the lightening horizon and shaking his head slowly.
“Something is wrong,” he muttered, then turned from the window to make his way down the stairs. The same three words rolled over in his mind as he crossed the courtyard towards the glowing white dome of the healing house.
As he approached, the piercing scream of an infant rang through his mind, but it wasn’t enough to silence his mantra. ‘Something is wrong. It should not take this long. Something is wrong.’
One of the healers burst out of the healing house, pale green robe stained red in patches. Her hands were bathed in the red liquid. She lifted one hand to her face to hook back a loose hair, then thought the better of it.
“Majesty!” The healer was clearly startled, and curtseyed hastily. “I was just sent to look for you.”
Mithé stared at the healer, unsure whether it was joy or sorrow that he saw on the woman’s face.
“You have a son, Majesty,” the healer beamed, but now she had said it, there was most definitely a silent ‘but…’ within the words.
“But what?” the king demanded, anxiety shaking his voice slightly, “What’s wrong with my son?”
The young woman shook her head. “Nothing is wrong with your son, Majesty. But… we could not save your wife.”
Mithé could almost feel the blood draining, not just from his face. His knees felt weak, too weak to support his weight. He lifted one shaking palm to his forehead, took in a deep breath and let it out as a quavering whisper. “Aeia, no…”
“Do you wish to see him, Majesty?” the healer was saying.
Mithé glanced out from behind his hand, not quite seeing the face of the woman talking to him.
“Your son, Majesty.”
He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “No. Not for a few days yet.” He took in another shaky breath and dropped his palm from his forehead. “I want to see him as my son, not as the boy who killed my wife.”
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Mine again
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 90. Eighteenth day of Spring (October 10th), 4030.
Mithé hadn’t slept at all during the night. He hadn’t even glanced at his bed. He’d tried working, but his mind continued to wander to other things, and he’d quickly abandoned that idea, much as he’d cursed himself for it. Instead, he took to pacing, first around his office, then into the halls of the palace.
As the night wore on, the floor and walls of the palace, lit silver by moonlight, turned to a dirty grey as the first pale, milky rays of dawn began to seep into the building.
He stood impatiently at an eastern window for a moment, staring anxiously at the lightening horizon and shaking his head slowly.
“Something is wrong,” he muttered, then turned from the window to make his way down the stairs. The same three words rolled over in his mind as he crossed the courtyard towards the glowing white dome of the healing house.
As he approached, the piercing scream of an infant rang through his mind, but it wasn’t enough to silence his mantra. ‘Something is wrong. It should not take this long. Something is wrong.’
One of the healers burst out of the healing house, pale green robe stained red in patches. Her hands were bathed in the red liquid. She lifted one hand to her face to hook back a loose hair, then thought the better of it.
“Majesty!” The healer was clearly startled, and curtseyed hastily. “I was just sent to look for you.”
Mithé stared at the healer, unsure whether it was joy or sorrow that he saw on the woman’s face.
“You have a son, Majesty,” the healer beamed, but now she had said it, there was most definitely a silent ‘but…’ within the words.
“But what?” the king demanded, anxiety shaking his voice slightly, “What’s wrong with my son?”
The young woman shook her head. “Nothing is wrong with your son, Majesty. But… we could not save your wife.”
Mithé could almost feel the blood draining, not just from his face. His knees felt weak, too weak to support his weight. He lifted one shaking palm to his forehead, took in a deep breath and let it out as a quavering whisper. “Aeia, no…”
“Do you wish to see him, Majesty?” the healer was saying.
Mithé glanced out from behind his hand, not quite seeing the face of the woman talking to him.
“Your son, Majesty.”
He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “No. Not for a few days yet.” He took in another shaky breath and dropped his palm from his forehead. “I want to see him as my son, not as the boy who killed my wife.”