Onyx

Chapter 1

Onyx

By Autumn M. Miller

(MoonofMorrigan)

The sun was setting over the waters as he looked on. A child-like gleam in his eyes. But he was still a child wasn't he? 14 and still growing. He was tall and mature looking for his age however. He often was mistaken to be older than his years to those who first met him. He had the usual features of the Carathans, hair black as ebony wood, skin the color of the sunset just before it slips below the horizon. The extension, grace and purposeful gait that would make a simple reach for an eating utensil seem as practiced and carefully executed as the most complicated dancer's routine. His eyes, like the rest of his people, stood out in stark contrast to his tanned skin and dark hair. The almond shaped framed eyes that were the color of forget-me-nots. He would have preferred his mother's purplish cornflower eyes, for she was indeed beautiful, as were his memories of her. He would have liked the difference in his traditional appearance, but he had inherited his father's eyes. He reasoned to comfort himself, it was better to be ordinary looking rather than too eccentric looking.

He looked up at the golden and pink sky as a flock of birds flew overhead. "How I long for your freedom...," he whispered with lips pink as cherry blossoms.

In contemplation he watched them as his fingers absently toyed with the blades of grass beneath him, fingertips brushing on the petals of a patch of Lobelia. The roar of the waterfall closely situated near his calm waters drown out any reply the birds would have made.

Tonight he had a feeling that his fate for many years would be sealed. He was the child of a brilliant warlord and a noble-bred mother. There was no way he could have any decision in his future until he was older, even then he would have little say in some affairs. He belonged to his people first. His family second. His own self importance and desires were last of all. His father was ill, and his mother was sent back to the land of her fathers to prepare for her husband's death. The tradition of the Carathans- always the tradition. He grew weary of it. He always wondered that if he was weary of it now, how did his father feel now at the age of 59? His mother had left 2 years ago, and he had not seen her since. He knew the advisers would want to keep her away so she would not have any say in her son's affairs. They were free to manipulate, argue over and finally orchestrate his life at will.

He was left, in the meantime, to his thoughts and studies. He was prepared, he was sure, for his father's death. His father had never exactly taken much interest in him until he was 11. It was only when they brought his father home from battle on a bamboo stretcher, bloodied and battle worn, his armor nearly shattered to pieces by swords and spears, when he knew that his father was aware of his presence in the grand scheme of life. His father called him to his bedside, forced his innocent child eyes to look upon the reality of war and political intrigue in the face, and told him he would die. His father knew this long before the doctor said so. His father promised him that he would hang on as long as he could for his sake. The lord knew without his presence his tender son will be at risk, or at best used as a pawn for the strongest and most ambitious of his court. He had last seen his father 2 weeks ago. His father told him that within a month he knew he will die. The pain had become too great, the endurance to hang on too weak. His time was fast approaching and soon he will walk in the golden and blood-red halls of The Dragon.

He knew it was possible that he may suffer a similar fate as his father. He was not an emperor - he had no choice but to do battle. When his father died the land would be his. He was not ready for this, he knew. His responsibility to make sure grain was available to keep his people fed, the wells not dry to keep them and the animals watered. He would have to lead the people and inspire them. His people to manipulate and control as some would see it. Yes, his lands, his lands to defend - the hardest job of all. They were vast, stretching all the way to The White Sea. Green and fertile; many wanted his lands. He was no fool and did not enjoy his title. It insured him to always have enough to wear and eat. But it was also a cage filled with lovely things and sealed in loneliness, mistrust and intrigue - lined with disputes and war.

The beauty and serenity of the area he was now in, watching longingly at the freedom of the birds to fly where they pleased, the scent of the flowers and flowing calm water around him seemed ironic. Today he knew the talks that had been in the works since his father's injury would end, and the beginning be sealed. All starting with a union - a bride, as a seal of alliance, would be chosen and the game these counselors and advisers would play with his life would begin. He looked down at the Lobelia petals gently held between his fingertips, and felt a searing pain in his heart that forced him to pluck the flower and crush the petals in his fist as his hand went to his heart. His father was dead.

"The boy has no choice. This is the only one suitable - unless you prefer to make a deal with the Shili." growled a dark cloaked adviser to the acting Regent.

"He is only 14! If he were but 2 years older I would have no objections. But the fact is, none of us would even marry our daughters at that age, yet this boy is to be so if you have your way. He can barely lift a broad sword, let alone know what to do with a woman. Do you really believe his father...", the Regent argued back as calmly as he could. This discussion had been going back and forth for hours now.

"His father approved the decision." replied another adviser quietly in the back.

The Regent closed his eyes and turned away for a moment before speaking, "I highly doubt that he had a woman old enough to be his mother in mind..."

"Your lordship, we 'need' this alliance. Our soldiers, well trained that they are, are not experienced in the art of battle on the seas. The Rosalim have ships plenty and generals that can secure our trading borders to the east." The first lord who had spoken paused, hoping finally the Regent would listen, "You know as well as I that if the trade posts from the sea are taken, we might as well hand our territories to our enemies. They are coming by the sea now your lordship... we have to do something."

The second one pleading the case took over, seeing another objection beginning to ferment on the Regent's lips, "I want to assure you, your objections and concerns are being considered as well your lordship. He can marry her, and the marriage bed shall remain empty until the young master himself calls for her. Surly, that will be reasonable?"

"With a wife as old as this, do you really believe she can tempt him once he is of an age to even want to bed her? It is possible it may only be 2 years - but it could be ten. Or possibly never. Also, have you not also considered both of the personal views on this? Would any of you take a wife nearly 12 years your senior? She... he will be nothing more than a child to her. He will have to father a child before he even reaches his 18th birth year, and by that time it will become much more difficult for her to bear a child."

A counselor who had remained silent for quite some time now finally spoke, "I have no doubt she will tempt him - she is most beautiful. What woman in her most prominent breeding years wouldn't want a such a young lover? I'm sure most of our own wives wouldn't object. I know we wouldn't object to such a young lover if it was a woman." even the Regent had to snicker at that one, "Besides, she is full of life and energy. Perhaps she will inspire him to look beyond his books and gardens."

The Regent walked to a window seeing a maidservant running at top speed towards them, and sighed in resignation, "So be it, but we will make it clear that he will have the choice to divorce her and take a younger wife for the sake of siring sons, but she can remain here if she desires. I just really do not believe this will work."

His breath caught in his throat as he seen a black candle being placed in the window. He knew before the maidservant burst in declaring it, that his long time friend and lord had past and was in the arms of The Dragon. 

Author's Note: Image above is a screenshot from Furin Kazaan.