September 5th, 2007


Dragon drabbles for rasetsunyo

Can't write any more:
Fics freeze and refuse to move.
Still, there are drabbles
 "Grief fills the room up of my absent child"

       Father of four sons, Older to many youths, Gouen is at last learning to lie below. It's an... educational experience. Not what it was before for him, not what he thought it was like for others. He sweats and grunts as the solid thing moves inside him, not painful but not-- not-- 'Why am I doing this?' though of course he knows. The King wishes it. This isn't for his own purposes and pleasure. How could it be?
Goukou kisses him. "Endure, little brother. Some day you'll be able to do this with Goujun when he returns."  
Well, then again...

 Goushou was never close to his Younger. Goujun followed his instruction obediently enough but whatever there was of warmth and eagerness in him, like a banked fire, he saved for when Goukou was with them. Which was natural. Not all Youngers are in sympathy with their Olders; not all fathers love their children, and not all Dances result in sons. So Goushou doesn't much mind if Goujun disappears for a while. But now, annoyingly, he finds himself misplacing things- a book, a glove, his seal- for the unaccountable pleasure of finding them again, and he just can't stop doing it.

         Goukou walked the ramparts of his palace, and the susurrus of the waves was a tapestry of sound backgrounding his thoughts. This invitation from the Third Princess of the Southern Continent- yes, he'd accept. She'd given him little Kaimyou, his silver son. He owed her some return. Both policy and personal feeling agreed on that.
And if the child was again a boy, well, so much the better. There was good blood in the South. And the Southern Ruler's old Strategist was a warrior of experience and penetrating intelligence: it would be entertaining- and good training- to partner her again in games of go.
He turned his steps back to his chambers. The waves roared behind him, low and soothing; the salt smell of them was in his nostrils; and a sudden pang struck his heart so that he stopped still, amid the discreet consternation of his attendants.
Goujun-- this I owe to you. That I may live at last like a dragon of the dragons and not the lackey of Heaven is because of your death. He took a deep breath. And so I will live like a dragon indeed, as thanks for the gift you've given to me, brother.