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https://www.furaffinity.net/view/57263006/
One of the Eight was known to have a mischievous streak when answering prayers.
Opporot sat across from Harta at the long golden dining table and slid him a glossy portrait of a nalvot dressed even more expensively than they.
"Veedenna," said Opporot, "of the family Mannutarru. That alone should be all the convincing you need, but she meets all the qualifications that anyone could ask for. Look at her. Lovely, smart, business sense, and she's the lone holdout in her family, just like you. The gifts I had to summon up just to have an audience with their family... Harta, my son, I'm asking you to marry her."
Harta thought for a few seconds. "No."
Opporot froze for a few breaths, internally debating about whether to grab and shatter the table's glass centerpiece against the wall. He decided against it. "Damn it, Harta. You're an excellent strategist and accountant. There's not a better one in the land I could hire. You've done wonders for the family, the company, the community. What is it that you want?"
Harta didn't need to say anything.
"I know your dread of having to raise children, or of hiring someone to do it. Nobody says you need to do either," said Opporot.
"No, I don't HAVE to have children. But I'm well familiar with the laws and taxes. My stake in the family is only proportional to the size of the family I would have. Where does that leave me?"
Opporot sighed. "Harta, we've been at this way too long. I'm prepared to compromise in a way that would be unthinkable to most families. The only reason I can think of that you would refuse every single one of the finest brides we can find is that you have eyes for a different one. I would rather you embarrass us by marrying HER, than utterly humiliate us by marrying no one at all. So tell me. Who is it? Name her."
Harta laughed, or something close to it, fighting off an appearance of callousness. "Father... do you really think I'm trying to bargain for something? You would always talk about our time here as a race, a competition. I believed you. I invested everything in getting ahead and helping the Zheen-Kis get ahead. And now you're asking me to do something I have no preparation for."
"We've done everything to prepare you for it!"
"I'm not talking about the arrangements. I'm talking about love. Do I need to tell you all this again? I've read all the classics of literature, but never understood them. You keep saying love will happen on its own, but it hasn't. I've never felt love. I don't want to lie by pretending to have it. And how can a marriage last without it?"
"Easily! It--"
Opporot knew there was no satisfactory way to finish the sentence. He paused.
"Harta, I'm giving you one year from now. Every one of the options I gave you are available as long as nobody else takes them first. If you don't choose, I'm choosing one for you, and if you don't accept, you're going to force me to cut you off. I'm pleading with you not to do that to me. To us."
Nobody in the Zheen-Ki family understood much about the Eight. This popular pantheon had a lot of good words to say, but the words about material prosperity were the only ones that held the family's attention. Harta prayed that night for any possible way to remain in the family without marrying or being a thorn. He wanted some time away to think, but couldn't exactly take a vacation.
He slept, and inexplicably, awoke somewhere dim and cold. Early sunlight revealed his surroundings. He was in a cave. It had to be a dream or vision, but it wasn't one he could snap out of. It was no more or less real than the waking life he knew. It had a permanence to it, it didn't change without warning. He scoured his recent memories but couldn't make sense of it. He was chilled.
It reminded him of his weeks-long stint in one of the mines the Zheen-Kis owned, where he learned how coal was extracted, and where he caught a lucky glimpse of one raw gem.
Here, though, hints of dozens of brilliant gems were embedded all throughout, in every wall. Whether or not he ever made it back to his family, this cave must have hid enough jewels to retire with, if they could be mined. No tools.
He peered out of the cave and his heart sank when he saw the rough, craggy terrain. His four tender paws had only a thin layer of soft pajamas protecting them. Fog obscured all. He hoped for civilization on the other side. He did not dare to pray for it.
One of the Eight was known to have a mischievous streak when answering prayers.
Opporot sat across from Harta at the long golden dining table and slid him a glossy portrait of a nalvot dressed even more expensively than they.
"Veedenna," said Opporot, "of the family Mannutarru. That alone should be all the convincing you need, but she meets all the qualifications that anyone could ask for. Look at her. Lovely, smart, business sense, and she's the lone holdout in her family, just like you. The gifts I had to summon up just to have an audience with their family... Harta, my son, I'm asking you to marry her."
Harta thought for a few seconds. "No."
Opporot froze for a few breaths, internally debating about whether to grab and shatter the table's glass centerpiece against the wall. He decided against it. "Damn it, Harta. You're an excellent strategist and accountant. There's not a better one in the land I could hire. You've done wonders for the family, the company, the community. What is it that you want?"
Harta didn't need to say anything.
"I know your dread of having to raise children, or of hiring someone to do it. Nobody says you need to do either," said Opporot.
"No, I don't HAVE to have children. But I'm well familiar with the laws and taxes. My stake in the family is only proportional to the size of the family I would have. Where does that leave me?"
Opporot sighed. "Harta, we've been at this way too long. I'm prepared to compromise in a way that would be unthinkable to most families. The only reason I can think of that you would refuse every single one of the finest brides we can find is that you have eyes for a different one. I would rather you embarrass us by marrying HER, than utterly humiliate us by marrying no one at all. So tell me. Who is it? Name her."
Harta laughed, or something close to it, fighting off an appearance of callousness. "Father... do you really think I'm trying to bargain for something? You would always talk about our time here as a race, a competition. I believed you. I invested everything in getting ahead and helping the Zheen-Kis get ahead. And now you're asking me to do something I have no preparation for."
"We've done everything to prepare you for it!"
"I'm not talking about the arrangements. I'm talking about love. Do I need to tell you all this again? I've read all the classics of literature, but never understood them. You keep saying love will happen on its own, but it hasn't. I've never felt love. I don't want to lie by pretending to have it. And how can a marriage last without it?"
"Easily! It--"
Opporot knew there was no satisfactory way to finish the sentence. He paused.
"Harta, I'm giving you one year from now. Every one of the options I gave you are available as long as nobody else takes them first. If you don't choose, I'm choosing one for you, and if you don't accept, you're going to force me to cut you off. I'm pleading with you not to do that to me. To us."
Nobody in the Zheen-Ki family understood much about the Eight. This popular pantheon had a lot of good words to say, but the words about material prosperity were the only ones that held the family's attention. Harta prayed that night for any possible way to remain in the family without marrying or being a thorn. He wanted some time away to think, but couldn't exactly take a vacation.
He slept, and inexplicably, awoke somewhere dim and cold. Early sunlight revealed his surroundings. He was in a cave. It had to be a dream or vision, but it wasn't one he could snap out of. It was no more or less real than the waking life he knew. It had a permanence to it, it didn't change without warning. He scoured his recent memories but couldn't make sense of it. He was chilled.
It reminded him of his weeks-long stint in one of the mines the Zheen-Kis owned, where he learned how coal was extracted, and where he caught a lucky glimpse of one raw gem.
Here, though, hints of dozens of brilliant gems were embedded all throughout, in every wall. Whether or not he ever made it back to his family, this cave must have hid enough jewels to retire with, if they could be mined. No tools.
He peered out of the cave and his heart sank when he saw the rough, craggy terrain. His four tender paws had only a thin layer of soft pajamas protecting them. Fog obscured all. He hoped for civilization on the other side. He did not dare to pray for it.
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