After Times of Tender Agony: Ch. 6

ember wingfeather · 2024-12-07T06:27:22.640Z

Crowds Notes: Continuing our journey toward Torrboro... :) EDITED - details regarding Chathan & Torrboron monarchy. I went ahead and read the comic; Chathan is now Bhora's grandson because I can't exactly get rid of the character 😅 Thank you for re-approving this, Andrea!! <3 ***** Janner didn’t realize he gave into sleep until a jarring halt jerked him awake, but it really wasn’t an unpleasant disturbance. There was something wonderful about slowly waking when the carriage came to a jolting stop, and that was the wondrous remembrance that Sara and he were engaged, that she had accepted his proposal, that the blue diamond ring—which happened to be almost first in his line of sight, not because he cared about the ring more than Sara herself, but because the way his head was turned led him to such a scene—adorned her finger just where it always should have been. “We’re outside the gate,” Sara told him quietly, and he smiled as he thought about how she purposely spoke softer so as to not make his head explode. “There’s a bit of a line to get into Torrboro, so it may take a while.” Janner, now fully sitting up instead of reclining against her, looked at Sara with fondness before squeezing his eyes shut briefly and rubbing them in an effort to make the dryness leave. “It ends up working out, though,” Joe said, sounding as though he had smiled. “Because now you have the chance to make yourself look more awake than asleep, and maybe you can throw in a little bit of royal tassels or something.” Sara snorted in response, then began giggling because she had snorted, and Owen looked up and stared at Joe slightly sideways. “I’m trying to determine if that was somewhat smart or completely disrespectful,” he said. Janner smiled. Three years ago, a conversation like this one or simply the thought of falling asleep in front of other people (in a reasonable setting) would have left him absolutely mortified. Now, though? Now he didn’t mind it. Something about it felt normal and familiar, just as being tired felt oddly normal and familiar. And that was alright. “It’s not disrespectful,” he interjected, grinning. “At least, I don’t think it is. Maybe someone else would say it is, but I just find it humorous. Though I’m not particularly fond of wearing tassels.” ***** It took at least half an hour to actually get through Torrboro’s gates, then another to inch their way toward Palace Torr, the still-rather-cat-like centerpiece and royal residence of Torrboro. Guides posted alongside the main road directed them toward the more private paths leading to the palace (after learning of their business there, at least). It was darker by that time, the stars peeking out from their daylight blankets, deciding it was the right moment to come out and play. Something about the stars seemed to make the trip much faster and less chaotic, though it may very well have simply been getting through the trial of the jammed Torrboron streets. The road they now followed led along the side and toward the back entrance of Torr, only having three carriages strung along it. Chaos would once again throw herself on full display once they themselves were inside the Palace Torr, but that had not happened yet. At that moment, though, Chaos had yet to frustrate any plans. “It’s going to be a madhouse when we get in there,” Joe commented, directly voicing Janner’s thoughts. “Keeping together is going to be such fun.” “I’m sure they’ll organize us somehow,” Owen said almost cheerfully. He had put away his paper and now looked out the window. “Meeting the Queen of Torrboro isn’t a top priority, so it’s more likely we’ll make the acquaintance of a Lord or Duke or someone else first, and then probably get escorted upstairs.” Sara shook her head. “You're the lucky ones. For one of us, meeting the Queen of Torrboro is actually a top priority.” Janner felt his cheeks turning a shade of embarrassment, and while he twisted the thin chain around his finger, Owen let out an oddly nervous laugh. “Right. I forgot about that. Don't we just love Stranders?” Sara glared at him, and he quickly amended his statement. "I was referring to Stranders who aren't Maraly." “I forgot about it too,” Janner murmured, sighing. The part he wasn’t looking forward to about the trip had arrived: the awkwardness. He didn’t mind diplomacy or formality—for that matter, he enjoyed both to a point. The haggling back and forth and debating over terms had the potential to serve as some wonderful entertainment. It was the early part, how people addressed him, how he navigated the details of speaking with them and introducing himself, if need be, how he would time conversation and small talk correctly—this was the hard, stressful, panic-worthy portion. Now the pendant had flown out from underneath his shirt again, though, considering it was the Annieran crest, perhaps that wasn’t too dreadful. He would just have to find some way to keep himself from touching it. The carriage stopped in front of what was clearly an entrance, lined with knights and guards dressed in trimmings of gaudy green and yellow, bells on their sleeves holding fast to the feline-focused origins of Palace Torr. The door opened; he got up and stepped out almost automatically, thankful his head chose not to spin. After briefly accepting a courteous hand from a footman, he turned around and assisted Sara in her dis-embarkment. She smiled at him encouragingly, then produced his crown from out of (seemingly) nowhere and gently placed it on his head. Janner’s cheeks burned when she did so—he really didn’t like the crown, though largely it was because even with how small and light they had made it, it still gave him dreadful headaches—but he didn’t protest. There was no reason for it. He wouldn’t get anywhere. Instead, he offered her his arm, and, linked in such a way, they began the walk through the walls of stoic guards. Janner couldn’t help but smile when he saw one of the men—who was really a boy—smiling, his eyes twinkling, because of how proud and thrilled he was to be there. He was aware that Joe and Owen followed, but turning around was unfortunately improper in this circumstance. He hated walking in front when he was a part of any sort of “group,” but here no other option existed. They continued undeterred until reaching the doors, at which point a man who looked rather like a royal attendant stepped out, briefly suggested adjustments on reaching their rooms to "freshen up," specifically eyeing Janner’s cloak, the one he normally wore for warmth purposes. He bit his lip in frustration when he realized his mistake. It was not the correct attire for meeting the King of Torrboro, and considering the pile of various cases and bags sitting off to the side in a sheltered area near the door, he really didn't know whether their baggage would manage to make it into their rooms in time for him to find a new cloak. Diplomacy called, louder with every minute. At least he had his crown, that was something, after all. Though the chances of the headaches beginning sooner as a result of also being concerned about his cloak being seen in public were steadily rising. “Hey, Janner,” Owen spoke from behind, and Janner did turn to look at him this time, since he was getting a little tired of formalities, and they hadn’t even been stuck with them all that long yet. “Would this help at all?” Janner’s mouth parted a bit as Owen held up one of his nicer—though not obnoxiously so—cloaks, and the attendant gasped with relief. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed, then calmed himself and bowed a bit. “Your Majesty, please follow this attendant; he will take you and your companions to your quarters.” Janner smiled and nodded, then took the new cloak from Owen. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.” The attendant bowed again. “The pleasure is mine.” ***** After being shown to his room, Janner spent as little time there as possible. It wasn't as though he didn't want to finger the books lining the small bookshelf in the corner or sit down in the comfortable-looking chair near the books and read. In fact, he wanted to do just that. He wanted to flop (carefully) onto the bed decorated with a cream-and-green overlay and a very large number of pillows that were likely all horrendously uncomfortable. He would have loved even lowering himself to the floor and staring at the walls adorned with paper of swirling greens and golds and creams, trimmed with another green, enjoying the warmth of the glowing fire burning close. If he did that, though, he would never leave. He wouldn't be able to force himself to head downstairs and socialize with people whose names he would never remember. Instead of doing what he wanted to, he removed the warm, worn dark brown cloak from his shoulders and, giving a single, chilled shudder, walked over and draped it on the small coatrack in the corner of the room. The new cloak quickly took its place. Janner hoped the initial coldness of an unworn garment in the chillier months would soon leave it. Readjusting the crown briefly, he then left the room, albeit reluctantly, took a few steps out in the hallway, and knocked on Sara's door. She opened it almost immediately, her eyes sparkling the same fresh blue as her dress. "Are you ready?" she asked, the excitement in her voice so lovely. Janner smiled and held out his arm. "If you are, Lady Sara." In another few moments, they exited the mostly-uncrowded upper hall, descended the stairs, and entered the main hall of Palace Torr, which was painfully crowded by a massive number of individuals, some of whom were diplomats, others in the employ of the Queen Bhora, a number who liked served in and therefore lived in the palace, and just a few gawkers who managed to slip past the guards. Sara kept him going, kept his head up as they made their way toward the Queen. He wanted to look down, to avoid the stares of all who saw and knew him as a king. He wanted to fiddle with the chain as well. That would be inappropriate for a king, though, since a king looked ahead and forward with confidence and strength. Janner didn’t have an abundance of any of that, but Sara helped him pretend. It was a relief to know she knew it was all an act, just as it was a relief that she took half of his burden of small talk. At least the small talk with Owen and Joe wasn't so awkward, though it did take the two quite a while to exit their rooms and join the throng of diplomats. ***** Too much small talk with strangers happened over the course of the evening in the brightly lit, chaotically colored room still swarming with people at that late hour. What time was it anyway? It was late enough to where he was tired, that he knew, and he honestly had no idea when it would all be over and going to their rooms would be considered appropriate. And, of course, he still hadn’t managed to make his way toward Queen Bhora, which was literally his only goal that evening. “You’re getting tired,” Sara whispered as they made their way away from one of the representatives from Crith, a rather chatty young woman who hadn’t wanted to stop talking. Sara had slipped her hand into his sometime during the conversation—not sometime, of course, he remembered the exact moment and the feeling of brief comfort or strength or something along those lines. Janner smiled wearily. Being upstairs with the fire and books and the ability to sleep sounded amazing. He wondered if it would be so terrible if he reached for the pendant. His fingers ached to do so. “You noticed, did you? Has anyone else?” Sara shook her head, then steered him towards a shadowed part of the hall where a cushioned bench happened to reside. “No one has yet, but I’m not as concerned about others noticing as I am about you exhausting yourself too early. Sit, please. Thank you,” she added as he listened, partially because arguing with her would be futile, and he honestly didn’t want to protest. “Anyway, I think we both know the next few weeks are going to be dreadfully draining. So, please, take it easy?” Sighing, Janner rested his chin in his right hand while the other fingered the pendant. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to agree, it was more he didn’t know if he could. He wanted to avoid lying to Sara if such a thing was at all physically possible, especially since now they were actually betrothed, and everything seemed more sacred. “I’ll do my best,” he said finally and received a bit of a scowl in response. “It’s not that I don’t want to listen to you and manage to come out of this whole thing not exhausted—that would be wonderful! The problem is that we know it isn’t possible based on previous years, and that was even with skipping a few days.” “You will take the day off if I tell you, Janner Esben Wingfeather,” Sara declared, standing up and planting her hands on her hips. “We’re closer to being married now than ever before, which means I get some of the rights of power associated with such a thing, one of which I am invoking right now: the ability to tell you what to do when you won’t do what’s best for yourself.” Janner seriously considered laughing, but he knew it wasn’t the laughing sort of situation. “I feel like you’ve been doing that for a while but, alright,” he agreed—for the same reasons he had agreed minutes before. “But are you going to be stricter once we are married?” Sara’s eyes twinkled, and she tossed her head. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” she said mischievously. ***** They never actually managed to find and meet Queen Bhora, but her grandson met them in her place. It was hard to believe he was her grandson, considering nothing about him seemed at all Strander-like, in fact, he seemed far more truly Torrboron than they had expected. It turned out the reason why they hadn’t seen him previously—even though they had searched for some diplomatic figure of Torrboro for hours—was because he had a kitten obsession and had been somewhere in the castle playing with the kittens. It was incredibly Torr-dynasty of him. “They’re my favorites,” he explained, sounding rather childish. “I am sorry I made you wait though; I feel bad about that. I’m Prince Chathan Gumble, but just Chathan is fine unless someone important like my grandmother, Queen Bhora, in the room, and in that case I'm dreadfully sorry about all the formalities she'll demand.” Janner cast his gaze over the young prince briefly, making note of little other than the way his brown curls framed his relatively round, childlike face, not because he didn’t care, but because he really was getting tired. “King Janner Wingfeather, and it's a pleasure to meet you. Where is Queen Bhora, if you don't mind my asking? I wasn't aware she had a grandson.” Chathan's eyes flickered nervously. "She's busy...with something. But I'm happy to do whatever you need in her place! Really, I don't mind. I'm pretty capable." Janner couldn’t help but smile wryly, halfway amused by Chathan. He had expected a bit more from Torrboro in terms of successfully producing a representative without causing everyone to assume funny business with the Stranders had happened. “I think we're fine for now, but thank you so much," Sara replied sweetly. "I’m Sara Cobbler,” she added, curtsying a bit. Janner cleared his throat and corrected, “Lady Sara Cobbler, and she will be addressed as such.” Sara looked as though she wanted to glare at him or scold him, but Chathan snagged her before any such attempts were underway. He took her hand and kissed it politely—no matter how young he was, he at least knew how to be a gentleman—then smiled. “We're happy to have you here, Lady Sara. And I know it’s getting late; do you want me to find someone who can take you both to your rooms, or would you prefer something else?” Janner caught Sara’s eyes when she turned toward him in question, and he smiled encouragingly, hoping she knew he wanted her to make whatever decision she wanted. He knew she had hoped to talk with Maraly a bit more, since they had only a brief exchange earlier that had been cut short by other unfortunately pressing people to speak with. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Chathan,” Sara said with a smile and a dip of her head. As he stepped a bit away to find an attendant or escort, Janner caught Sara’s hand and squeezed it. “Are you sure? You wanted to speak with Maraly more, I thought.” “And I do. But getting settled won’t hurt, and I can come back down if I feel like it. Besides, you need to rest, and I know you won’t unless I force you to.” Janner sighed. “You’re probably right. Why are you always right?” Sara smiled playfully in response. “Because I know you better than you know yourself, that’s why. And I love you and care about you and generally have pretty good ideas as to what is physically best for you because of it.” He didn’t have a response for that because he simply couldn’t think of one, and at that moment the attendant came anyway and asked if they wanted to head upstairs, so there was no good chance to reply. As they followed him up the rather long flight of stairs, Janner did his best to ignore how glad he was the staircase had a banister and instead leaned over and gently kissed Sara’s forehead. She looked at him in surprise, and rather than waiting for her to ask, why? he simply whispered: “Because I love you.” ***** Notes: I believe that was our last purely happy chapter (at least it was a long, happy chapter...)? The next one is pretty okay for about half of it, and then it takes a bit of a nosedive 😏 Let me know if anything seems wonky or noncanonical...I know there were kind of a lot of mini time skips 😅

top of page

Esta página web se diseñó con la plataforma

.com

. Crea tu página web hoy.Comienza ya

bottom of page