Arms of the Ocean

Ascension

Back in the springtime druidrose and I were asked to participate in talesofthedeep 's anthology - Sands of Time - where we would contribute a tale involving a character's backstory. And so we give you Imriel's story, set a year before he meets Tris. Enjoy <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imriel, the Prince of Inara, drummed his fingers idly against the grains of the rich mahogany wood of the table. It was hardly a surprise to anyone that he hated court meetings, and the Elders were beyond boring. They bickered amongst themselves for hours on end only to provide advice to his parents, the King and Queen, to make the final decision on whatever pressing issue they chose to waste their time; a decision he was sure his parents had already decided on before meeting with the Elders to begin with. And as with every other week, Imri was not looking forward to listening to whatever was currently threatening the fate of Inara.

And to make matters more unbearable, the Elders were late.

A soft disapproving noise caught his attention. Out of the the corner of her soft seafoam green eyes, the Queen of Inara glared daggers at him. Imri's drumming fingers froze in place before going slack, pressing into the table. His mother's eyes flicked away from him, silently approving of his obedience.

Since he had reached the age of maturity, Imriel had been required to come to these meetings, but the Elders were already in session and usually someone would have filled him in on the topic of the discussion. This one however, had been hastily set up, with a courier fetching him from the War Court, all but dragging him from his sparring match with Loch, the Captain of the Guard and his best friend. When Loch inquired as to the urgency and had tried to follow them, the courier advised that the Prince had been ordered away by the King.

Which meant it was serious.

And not what the Elders usually considered serious, seeing as they they were so often absorbed in the court nonsense that led them to believe everything was always a big deal.

No, this order came from his father, which only made Imriel even more nervous.

It took everything in Imriel's power to keep from drumming his fingers against the arm or picking at the wood of the chair, so instead he tried to focus his energies on anything but the fact that they were in stasis waiting for the Elders to arrive.

They awaited the Elder's arrival within their own council room, the quarters they used only when discussing matters of great importance, which again, Imri admitted to himself, made him nervous. Glancing up, he couldn't help but notice the room's wards set in ammonites, glittering at all points along the high, vaulted ceiling, cast as protection against eavesdroppers or their charms. Which was moot, Imri mused as a smirk played across his lips. Inara was eternally at peace, protected from war and strife while sitting at the bottom of the Ocean, thanks to the ancient enchantments of the Sea Fae.

The Prince again cast his eyes towards his mother. She sat with the perfect posture one could expect from the Queen, her autumn- colored hair twisted together in tight braids and pinned around the golden crown that sat upon her head. Her pale skin was hidden underneath the court gown of silver, so fine yet intricately woven with colorful beads that they bloomed like coral polyps across the bodice. It clung to her slender figure, accentuating her features like the glass fish that swam above the city. Long bell sleeves surrounded her hands as they rested in her lap, gentle and patient, as if they hadn't been waiting for near half a candlemark. As if she sensed his assessments, her eyes flicked to him, begging him for patience in a way that only a mother's eyes could.