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[commission for mkbuster. thanks again man! <3]
[speculative tale added for funsies. feel free to totally not read! 83]
Times were peaceful, but the politics never ended. Factions fidgeted like restless children, scuffs and misdemeanors breaking up the monotony for maybe a day or two before the calm slipped back over them, leaving them with nothing to do but pursue other, bolder things.
The truth was that there was nothing wrong with a greater evil, as long as it was great enough to be a common one.
The truth was that peace was boring.
Isn't there a saying about idle hands?
Her husband had tried to tell her what it was like to not be involved with political responsibility, and she had smiled blankly, like she so often did when she had heard what was said but not bothered to really comprehend it. After a certain point, life was a set of duties that never ended. When one seemed to end, it was only the beginning of another. The end of today's work was just the beginning of planning tomorrow's work. The end of the working week was just the beginning of preparing for Sunday festivities. The end of the bloody war was just the beginning of preparing for the restless state of peace.
Yes, after a certain point, life is nothing but heavy maintainence and careful preparation for the ends that don't exist. And this, she tried to explain to him.
"Relax," he had said, touching her hand, making her blot her careful signature. Surely, the southern territory of Neygan would not appreciate such messy work, meaning she would have to rewrite the entire treaty again. Her face was passive over her soaring blood pressure, her hands frozen over the horrifying mistake.
He had pulled it away from her and merely blotted out the entirety of her name. Underneath, he drew a long, horizontal line, marking where her new signature was to go.
"Only you can make peace sound like torture," he had muttered. He was grinning the whole time.
And she had been offended up until he died and she learned what torture was, how it was more brutal and real than anything she could've ever worried about--
The east wing's courtyard was converted into a private garden, the lonely queen's orders never questioned and concurrently never explained. Over the next few years, her limited knowledge of flora upkeep had transformed the trim spanse of grass into an overgrown mess of flowers and weeds alike. But birds still visited, and nature flourished where she saw failure to maintain, and somewhere along the line, somewhere between her being tortured by loneliness and her acceptance, she finally relaxed.
The place was quiet and peaceful. It was messy and mossy, drowning in weeds and fallen leaves from autumns passed, imperfect. But that's the way the man buried under the unmarked stone in the corner would have wanted it.
Her hands twisted around each other, and she idly brushed a leaf from the gravemarker. You never were the cleanest person.
Laughter filled the garden, and she looked up from the stone. In the back of her mind, she automatically wondered what time it was and if she was supposed to be anywhere.
She slowly rose to her full height, absentmindedly brushing bits of the soil from where she'd pressed her knees into the ground, and turned to the source of the noise.
The pale little boy didn't notice, but continued to play with the stray tabby that always seemed to be lurking around the garden. He shouted at it, scaring it a foot or so back before it attacked the tip of his dark tail. The dragon boy yelped and somersaulted in the tall grass, losing his predator in the underbrush.
She watched him play until he noticed her watching, where he blushed and apologized for being so loud. His eyes shot to his father's grave, and he bowed his head slightly.
Smiling warmly, she said nothing, and merely bent to accommodate his small frame, her arms outstretched.
He grinned and ran to her.
Hanako startled awake.
It only took a quick glance around the empty chamber to realize her dreams had fooled her once again. And this time she didn't wonder if she would ever be able to lay eyes on her son, but just hoped he was alright, and hoped that his life was better without the responsibility of a throne.
Thousands of miles away, Ryu watched the red numbers of his alarm clock change. He wondered why he kept dreaming of gardens.
[love you all~!<3]
[speculative tale added for funsies. feel free to totally not read! 83]
Times were peaceful, but the politics never ended. Factions fidgeted like restless children, scuffs and misdemeanors breaking up the monotony for maybe a day or two before the calm slipped back over them, leaving them with nothing to do but pursue other, bolder things.
The truth was that there was nothing wrong with a greater evil, as long as it was great enough to be a common one.
The truth was that peace was boring.
Isn't there a saying about idle hands?
Her husband had tried to tell her what it was like to not be involved with political responsibility, and she had smiled blankly, like she so often did when she had heard what was said but not bothered to really comprehend it. After a certain point, life was a set of duties that never ended. When one seemed to end, it was only the beginning of another. The end of today's work was just the beginning of planning tomorrow's work. The end of the working week was just the beginning of preparing for Sunday festivities. The end of the bloody war was just the beginning of preparing for the restless state of peace.
Yes, after a certain point, life is nothing but heavy maintainence and careful preparation for the ends that don't exist. And this, she tried to explain to him.
"Relax," he had said, touching her hand, making her blot her careful signature. Surely, the southern territory of Neygan would not appreciate such messy work, meaning she would have to rewrite the entire treaty again. Her face was passive over her soaring blood pressure, her hands frozen over the horrifying mistake.
He had pulled it away from her and merely blotted out the entirety of her name. Underneath, he drew a long, horizontal line, marking where her new signature was to go.
"Only you can make peace sound like torture," he had muttered. He was grinning the whole time.
And she had been offended up until he died and she learned what torture was, how it was more brutal and real than anything she could've ever worried about--
The east wing's courtyard was converted into a private garden, the lonely queen's orders never questioned and concurrently never explained. Over the next few years, her limited knowledge of flora upkeep had transformed the trim spanse of grass into an overgrown mess of flowers and weeds alike. But birds still visited, and nature flourished where she saw failure to maintain, and somewhere along the line, somewhere between her being tortured by loneliness and her acceptance, she finally relaxed.
The place was quiet and peaceful. It was messy and mossy, drowning in weeds and fallen leaves from autumns passed, imperfect. But that's the way the man buried under the unmarked stone in the corner would have wanted it.
Her hands twisted around each other, and she idly brushed a leaf from the gravemarker. You never were the cleanest person.
Laughter filled the garden, and she looked up from the stone. In the back of her mind, she automatically wondered what time it was and if she was supposed to be anywhere.
She slowly rose to her full height, absentmindedly brushing bits of the soil from where she'd pressed her knees into the ground, and turned to the source of the noise.
The pale little boy didn't notice, but continued to play with the stray tabby that always seemed to be lurking around the garden. He shouted at it, scaring it a foot or so back before it attacked the tip of his dark tail. The dragon boy yelped and somersaulted in the tall grass, losing his predator in the underbrush.
She watched him play until he noticed her watching, where he blushed and apologized for being so loud. His eyes shot to his father's grave, and he bowed his head slightly.
Smiling warmly, she said nothing, and merely bent to accommodate his small frame, her arms outstretched.
He grinned and ran to her.
Hanako startled awake.
It only took a quick glance around the empty chamber to realize her dreams had fooled her once again. And this time she didn't wonder if she would ever be able to lay eyes on her son, but just hoped he was alright, and hoped that his life was better without the responsibility of a throne.
Thousands of miles away, Ryu watched the red numbers of his alarm clock change. He wondered why he kept dreaming of gardens.
[love you all~!<3]
Category Artwork (Digital) / Doodle
Species Dragon (Other)
Size 1545 x 627px
File Size 367.1 kB
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