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shinonFandom: Fire Emblem 8
Characters: L'Arachel, Rennac
Word count: ~650
Warnings: None
Notes: From this June.![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fe_fest: "L'Arachel & Rennac – The Queen's (unwilling) confidant."
Her Majesty Queen L'Arachel, First of her Name, Ordained Priestess of the Third Sanctum, breezed into the room. "The ceremonial hat is silly," she announced, "and does not flatter the shape of my face. The Everlasting would surely want me to wear something that better accentuates my bone structure, or I would not have been born beautiful."
If she admitted the hat was stupid, he lost out on the pleasure of telling her so. Pity. Rennac didn't look up. "What did you expect? A hundred years ago, someone with surplus organza made a deal with the church. Of course it's an aesthetic affront."
"Explain."
"Isn't it obvious? 'I'll throw money at your succession claim if you help me move product.' Next thing you know, official feast day costume includes an ugly pile of veils. I wish I'd thought of it myself."
"Hmm." L'Arachel crossed over to his chair. "What is that you're reading?"
He tilted the thin paperbound volume away from her eyes. "Art history."
She squinted, reading off the title. "'Periodical Inventory and Appraisal of -'"
"Did you want something from me?" There were legitimate reasons for him to assess the total value of all of Rausten's church relics. His reasons were not the legitimate ones.
"You will attend this feast as part of my retinue."
"I'm not wearing the hat."
"Dozla would, if I asked."
"And I'm thankful every day that I'm not him."
L'Arachel blinked, splaying a hand over her chest. "Why, Rennac! Have you been practicing gratitude?"
He sighed in aggravation. "It was a figure of -"
"I'm proud of your spiritual development. I will not lie – there were times I feared my instruction would never reach you. Your heart is full of commerce. Your soul is made of tin." Tin? Without admitting the existence of souls, Rennac thought, Couldn't she at least have said silver? "To say nothing of your insurmountable arrogance and sloth. But this is true progress. Come, tell me, what else have you learned to appreciate?" She struck a pose and flung her curls back over her shoulder, waiting for him to profess gratitude for Her Majesty.
He resisted the urge to make a snide retort, because they always just rolled off her anyway. Spiritual development, surely – in that her grinding his spirit to dust was a development. He opened the pamphlet again. So far, few of the treasures it listed were of interest. A well that had been personally blessed by Latona – that wasn't portable. Stained-glass windows were just possible, but who would he trust to ship them intact?
"Rennac," said L'Arachel, testy.
He kept reading. Bejeweled gauntlets? They sounded hideous. Maybe if he broke up the individual stones...
"You are not paying attention," she said.
"Correct."
"I dislike a particular tradition of my Church."
"Are we still talking about the hat?"
"It has broader implications."
"You're ordained, and you're the Queen. You can change the rules, especially in something so petty. Wear something different."
"Oh, I always intended to."
At that he looked up. "If you didn't need my advice, then why -"
"Your advice?" She gave an incredulous laugh. "I never asked your advice. I simply wished to inform you of my thoughts on this matter. It is a privilege."
He scowled. "You have that backwards. It's a privilege to have the ruler's ear, not to have the ruler talk your ear off."
Without warning, she leaned over and plucked the inventory from his fingers. Her eyebrows rose as she read down the page. At last she said, "Utter foolishness. Even you can't steal a well." She dropped it into his lap. "You must go see my tailor and make certain he has your correct measurements. My party shall have a uniform that complements my own magnificent raiment."
And she breezed back out.
Characters: L'Arachel, Rennac
Word count: ~650
Warnings: None
Notes: From this June.
fe_fest: "L'Arachel & Rennac – The Queen's (unwilling) confidant."Her Majesty Queen L'Arachel, First of her Name, Ordained Priestess of the Third Sanctum, breezed into the room. "The ceremonial hat is silly," she announced, "and does not flatter the shape of my face. The Everlasting would surely want me to wear something that better accentuates my bone structure, or I would not have been born beautiful."
If she admitted the hat was stupid, he lost out on the pleasure of telling her so. Pity. Rennac didn't look up. "What did you expect? A hundred years ago, someone with surplus organza made a deal with the church. Of course it's an aesthetic affront."
"Explain."
"Isn't it obvious? 'I'll throw money at your succession claim if you help me move product.' Next thing you know, official feast day costume includes an ugly pile of veils. I wish I'd thought of it myself."
"Hmm." L'Arachel crossed over to his chair. "What is that you're reading?"
He tilted the thin paperbound volume away from her eyes. "Art history."
She squinted, reading off the title. "'Periodical Inventory and Appraisal of -'"
"Did you want something from me?" There were legitimate reasons for him to assess the total value of all of Rausten's church relics. His reasons were not the legitimate ones.
"You will attend this feast as part of my retinue."
"I'm not wearing the hat."
"Dozla would, if I asked."
"And I'm thankful every day that I'm not him."
L'Arachel blinked, splaying a hand over her chest. "Why, Rennac! Have you been practicing gratitude?"
He sighed in aggravation. "It was a figure of -"
"I'm proud of your spiritual development. I will not lie – there were times I feared my instruction would never reach you. Your heart is full of commerce. Your soul is made of tin." Tin? Without admitting the existence of souls, Rennac thought, Couldn't she at least have said silver? "To say nothing of your insurmountable arrogance and sloth. But this is true progress. Come, tell me, what else have you learned to appreciate?" She struck a pose and flung her curls back over her shoulder, waiting for him to profess gratitude for Her Majesty.
He resisted the urge to make a snide retort, because they always just rolled off her anyway. Spiritual development, surely – in that her grinding his spirit to dust was a development. He opened the pamphlet again. So far, few of the treasures it listed were of interest. A well that had been personally blessed by Latona – that wasn't portable. Stained-glass windows were just possible, but who would he trust to ship them intact?
"Rennac," said L'Arachel, testy.
He kept reading. Bejeweled gauntlets? They sounded hideous. Maybe if he broke up the individual stones...
"You are not paying attention," she said.
"Correct."
"I dislike a particular tradition of my Church."
"Are we still talking about the hat?"
"It has broader implications."
"You're ordained, and you're the Queen. You can change the rules, especially in something so petty. Wear something different."
"Oh, I always intended to."
At that he looked up. "If you didn't need my advice, then why -"
"Your advice?" She gave an incredulous laugh. "I never asked your advice. I simply wished to inform you of my thoughts on this matter. It is a privilege."
He scowled. "You have that backwards. It's a privilege to have the ruler's ear, not to have the ruler talk your ear off."
Without warning, she leaned over and plucked the inventory from his fingers. Her eyebrows rose as she read down the page. At last she said, "Utter foolishness. Even you can't steal a well." She dropped it into his lap. "You must go see my tailor and make certain he has your correct measurements. My party shall have a uniform that complements my own magnificent raiment."
And she breezed back out.
