FIC: Seeds (Kushiel's Legacy, Delauney)

[tellitslant]

Yuletide reveal, part one!

This was my original assignment. My recipient requested any characters, anything, which is a 'verse as big as this took a while to narrow down! But she'd suggested a missing moment fic, and I decided to take a look at some of the pre-canon events that set in motion the politicking we saw in the books. Its definitely not the Kushiel's fic I'd ever have expected to write, but I think it came out pretty well. :)

Title: Seeds
Author: tellitslant
Recipient: epeeblade
Fandom: Kushiel's Legacy
Disclaimer: Characters courtesy of the lovely Jacqueline Carey.
Word Count: 2058
Rating: PG
Notes: written for yuletide 2009. Originally posted at Archive of Our Own. Many thanks to tl__dr for beta!



“Hoy, Delaunay! Yes, you!” The sailor had to grasp me by the arm and shake me before I roused enough to be sensible of the fact that he was addressing me. I blinked at him, and whatever showed in my eyes, he gentled his words. “We’re nearing the dock. Captain says, you want to get off before we start unloading, best sort your things now.”

“Thank you,” I forced out, finding my voice rough with disuse. I clapped him on the back with a jocularity I did not feel and bent to my bags, pretending to organize belongings when in truth there was no order to be put to them. The sailor strode off, muttering about the vagaries of passengers versus cargo, and only then did I feel the shifting pattern beneath my feet that meant we had left the open waters and were coming in to land.

Land. Tiberium.

The thought should have filled me with excitement, but little penetrated the dull fog that had clouded my mind since – well, since before I took ship, when my only desire was to get away from the country I loved so well and yet could hardly bear to think on.

Shame me as it did, I had thought of nothing but running away, and then of nothing at all.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I went up on deck to watch as we sailed into the harbour. My breath caught in my throat as the city became visible. It had changed greatly over the years, yet it still summoned a memory of the magic it had once held for both of us.

**

I watched, amused, as Rolande hung over the prow of the ship to get a closer look as they eased closer to port. Such excitement! The joie de vivre that the Dauphin embodied was at least half of what had drawn me to him in the first place.

I strode up behind Rolande and squeezed his shoulder, startling him badly. “The ship won’t dock any faster no matter how hard you wish,” I teased. “Though were you to fall overboard, I warrant all the guardsmen diving after you would lighten the load enough we could move more swiftly.”

Rolande laughed. “It would nearly be worth the letters home,” he said, "if only for the sight of the King’s Guard in the water in full uniform. I do not mean to catch an ague and spend my first week here in bed, however. I have other plans.”

“Plans that entirely preclude spending time in bed?” I asked, greatly daring.

The boat docked with a thump and Rolande stepped forward. “Jealous that I've a bed to wallow in, pauper?” he asked, grinning. “You’re certain you won’t join me at the embassy? I’m sure a suite could be found…” He trailed off, letting the old argument fade.

“If I wanted a suite at the embassy, I wouldn’t need your help to get one, princeling,” I answered, smiling. “No, I want to learn the city as a native. Never fear, though, I won’t hire rooms so miserly you’ll cringe to visit.”

“Mind you don’t,” Rolande warned. “Well, send to the embassy when you’ve found a place. Or tell me yourself – you’ll dine with me tomorrow?”

“Once all our affairs are in order,” I said with mock gravity.

I watched Rolande and his escort off the ship first, clinging to the rail and breathing the salty air, before gathering my own bags and leaping lightly to the ground. My first strides were unsteady, but I quickly grew to love the rhythm of my boots on the cobbles.

**

Now, there was no excitement. The docks had changed so since my last visit that I might well have been coming to the city for the first time, yet I only plodded through the crowds, head down, uninterested in the bustle surrounding me. I found a nondescript hotel in a nondescript neighbourhood near the university – not the students’ quarter, I had no wish to torment myself so. Still, my feet found familiar paths more easily than new ones, and in the morning I found myself wending my way past wineshops whose names had changed while their furnishings hadn’t.

I remembered the hours I had spent in those and other shops with Rolande, remembered the fever of learning that had ignited like a firebrand as he grew into the kingship he would never hold. And I saw myself, young and wine-soaked and arrogant, never realising the gift I had been given of his presence, and cursed myself all the more bitterly for having allowed it to be lost.

I was in a foul mood when I arrived at Master Strozzi's study, then, and suffered his effusive greetings and equally effusive condolences with ill grace.

“And what will you do now,” he asked eventually, his tone deceptively lazy. But I was not so easily deceived.

“I thought I’d stay in Tiberium for some time.” I shrugged. “Perhaps see if I can find work here at the university – as a tutor of languages, mayhap; I have picked up many in my travels."

Strozzi's gaze sharpened, but he too replied as if the matter was of little import. "I'm pleased that your explorations have been so educational. No doubt you've gained many skills for which there might be a need in Tiberium." Ah: he came right to it.

"No doubt," I replied. "In fact, I've learned much of the subjects I used to study with you, Master." His eyes gleamed with avarice: my apparent return must have seemed a miracle to him. I schooled my features to impassivity before continuing. "However, the idea of bringing myself to heel for a council of corrupt spymasters such as the Guild has lost any appeal it might ever have had."

Strozzi's face flushed with anger. "Watch your tongue in public, Antinous," he warned. "You no longer enjoy the same powerful protection you once did." He did not ask the reason for my diatribe, however, confirming what I already knew.

His use of my old nickname shattered my calm façade. "And at whose feet should that loss be laid?" I challenged. "The Guild knows all and sees all, does it not? You cannot deny they knew the battle in Camlach was coming. You cannot deny they had the power to stop it!" My voice rose to a shout as if of its own volition, and I barely reined it in.

To my disgust, Strozzi's face softened. "Ah, lad," he said, and I stiffened at the pity in his voice. "It did not come as a surprise to us, shall we say, but there is little we can do in Skaldia. And no one, not even the Guild, could have foretold the outcome. Rolande's unpredictability outfoxed us all. He always did."

Some part of me knew he was right, knew that Rolande's headstrong, valiant charge had surprised everyone, but I clung to the kernel of my anger as if it were the only thing keeping me alive. "If the Guild had prevented the battle," I said icily, "rerouted it, distracted the Skaldi, he would not have had the opportunity to act rashly. You know it is true. You could have saved him!" My voice had risen again. Humiliated, I spun on my heel and stalked out, barely noticing the young student I nearly knocked into just outside the study door. Only later did I realize she had been D'Angeline.

My fury at the Guild burned inside me. I had come to Tiberium hoping to draw them out, hoping – what? To punish them, to make them beg my forgiveness? In truth, I had not planned what I would do. I had only run, far from the pain and the responsibilities awaiting me. And for nothing: I could see that now. Even had the Guild killed Rolande themselves, they would never admit it, much less apologise for it. What they did, they thought was in the service of the greater good. The death of a prince meant as little to them as the death of a beggar, unless it could be used to their advantage.

I had known all this, somewhere. Now, I had to accept it. If I ever wanted to best them, I would have to use their tools, work within their world. My mission here was a failure, but the war was not yet over.

I wanted to get drunk, so I went straight to the wineshop; I needed to relax, to dull the pain, but the shop I chose ensured I could do neither. If I closed my eyes, I could almost see Rolande at the counter, arguing with a crowd of students, holding them in thrall; could almost feel him beside me, the warmth of his thigh against mine beneath the table.

**

"Elua!" Rolande dropped onto the bench next to me, a fresh pitcher of wine in his hand. "These Tiberians certainly love to argue," he complained. "You fetch the next pitcher, Delauney, they won't let me through without demanding I debate every point I made during the lectures this morning."

"You seemed to handle them quickly enough." I filled both our cups.

Rolande laughed. "I told them you had threatened to come after me, sword drawn, did I not fetch the wine fast enough. The way you were watching me, it wasn't difficult to convince them."

I flushed and looked away from Rolande's too-perceptive gaze, draining my cup and pouring another full. "Looking to switch roles, princeling?" I teased weakly.

"It would be a pleasure to serve, Anafiel," Rolande replied, so seriously I had to look back at him. He slid his thumb along the curve of my bottom lip, and I startled when he raised it to his mouth. "Wine," he explained, the tip of his tongue flitting out to lick the droplet away. His hand stole under the table to rest on my thigh as he sipped, unconcerned, from his own cup, and I laughed suddenly.

I had spent days planning the seduction of my prince, and he had caught me first. I should have been beyond being surprised by Rolande, but something told me I never would catch up with him.

**

I sighed and drained my cup. The spectre of Rolande haunted me here, in this shop as in this city, but I knew I could not leave. The politicking at home was too painful, for now. My obligations dragged at me, but not more than my sorrow.

As if the thought of home had summoned her, I saw a D'Angeline girl in the crowd. She wound through it with sinuous grace and stopped at my table with a fresh winecup and a smile.

"I haven't seen anyone from home in so long," she said in Kusheline-accented D'Angeline. "You must allow me to buy you a drink in return for the pleasure of speaking my own language again."

Even the few weeks that had passed since I took ship made me more sensitive to the shine of D'Angeline beauty in the mixed crowd, and against my better judgement, I nodded. "The pleasure would be mine," I said. "Have you been here long, then?"

She sat on the bench across from me, arranging her skirts just so. "When I think of how much I have studied," she answered, "it seems like years have passed. When I think of how much I've yet to learn, though, it seems a bare handful of days." She smiled blindingly. "Such is the magic of the university, don't you find?"

I smiled back, enjoying her easy charm. "All knowledge is worth having. It's only the getting of it that can be difficult."

"Or enjoyable!" she countered. "If done right." She glanced at me slyly. "And might I know your name?"

I laughed. "I would hate to make your pursuit of knowledge more difficult. I am Anafiel."

"I am Melisande." She touched the back of my hand lightly. "So tell me, Anafiel. What brings you to Tiberium? What drove you to hide out in the back of a dirty student den such as this?"

I had a glib answer on my tongue, but something about her touch, or her eyes, or perhaps it was the wine, made me reckless.

So I told her everything.