#and the prospect of having to say goodbye is paralyzing in its inevitability
Text
you spoke a word and life began
This was originally intended for the @asoiafrarepairs week, but I never got around to finishing it in time. The prompt was jealousy.
He’s not felt like this before; the sensation is foreign, without name. He’s felt something like it, when Baelor would perfect a move faster than he ever could, or when Daemon would be praised for something Baelor had done first and better. That was longing, he’d come to term it. Longing for recognition, for justice.
But this is darker, insidious, consuming. He’s five-and-ten now, he’d grown out of his childhood quick temper that Mother had always said he inherited from her. Rather, he’d learned to control it. Yet now, it threatens to surge forth, he yearns to hit something.
Or someone.
Ser Michael’s family had come to visit a week ago, including his nephew who, as it happens, has more than a dash of his uncle’s refined gregariousness. And he’s a year older than Baelor, has been a knight for years where Maekar is not one, has helped himself to talking up anyone in the palace he so chooses.
Maekar thinks his artifice is obvious, underhanded, had thought surely Dyanna would see through it in a trice. Instead, every time he sees him talking to her with that arrogance, she seems ever more besotted. Sometimes he hears them discussing the status of the mountain agriculture or a mutual friend or some local tale, and Maekar knows none of what they speak.
He’s been to Dorne, of course he has, but the only place he’d spent any considerable time was in Sunspear to visit his aunt and uncle. Dyanna’s told him much of her home, and Ser Michael has as well, but Maekar has never lived it.
Training helps keep his mind off Gerris, so he puts all his concentration into swinging his mace and practicing his footwork. If he’s exhausted, then he can’t think, and if he can’t think, then he can’t dwell.
At least, it works until after one session in which he manages to best Baelor, when instead of preparing for another bout just the two of them, he hears, “Prince Baelor, would you mind if I spell you for the next round?”
Gerris stands there with a blade in his hand and a sickeningly familiar silver bangle around his wrist. He catches Maekar staring at it and blithely comments, “You seem a formidable opponent, so I asked Lady Dyanna for her favor. She was generous enough to give it to me.”
“Some of us don’t need favors.” Gerris blinks in surprise, but doesn’t comment.
“By all means, ser,” Baelor interjects. “I’d best be off, besides. Good luck to you. ”
He casts Maekar a worried glance before heading back to the armory, the sort of glance that means he’ll be subject to an inquisition sometime later. Not that it would do any good. Maekar doesn’t know what explanation he could give. Not one he’s prepared to give to his big brother, anyway.
He beats Gerris at sparring, in the end, though the part of Maekar that doesn’t trust anything wonders if Gerris hadn’t fought to the best of his ability, or if Maekar had beat him fair and square. He’s not sure he wants to find out. Regardless, he does win, and that’s something. Never mind that Gerris doesn’t appear particularly bothered by the outcome.
“Your Grace,” he says as he sheathes his sword in its scabbard, “I’ve been intending to ask--have I offended you in some way? I get the sense that I have. Whatever it is, I apologize.”
“You didn’t do anything, Ser Gerris,” says Maekar stiffly. “You are an apt swordsman, and I hardly know you.”
Unable to stomach the man’s concern and his bloody annoying face, Maekar mutters a goodbye and follows in Baelor’s footsteps. Right now, he’d like nothing more than to be alone and to get the image of Dyanna’s bracelet out of his mind.
The better part of another week passes without incident--Gerris will be leaving King’s Landing soon, he reminds himself, just a little longer--but he should have expected that eventually it would come to a head.
He’s been successfully avoiding both Dyanna and Gerris, but apparently even after a decade of knowing her, he’d underestimated her tenacity. On his way through the halls to retire for the night, he hears purposeful footsteps behind him, and then her voice.
“I must speak with you,” she hisses, quietly enough to not disturb anyone, yet plenty loud enough for him to hear her irritation. Despite being fully aware that ignoring her is sure to only make things worse, he tries it anyway. He wills her to leave, to go take a stroll with Gerris or some such, but he gets all of three steps before Dyanna calls out again, “I must talk to you.”
The last thing he wants is to risk a courtier or servant witnessing Dyanna’s wrath and his inevitable aggravation, so he changes course and exits the keep entirely, out into the pouring rain. He’s soaked in moments. If he’d thought Dyanna would prefer to stay dry, however, once again he is mistaken--she follows him outside with no care as to the weather.
“Stop walking away from me! Maekar!”
He finally comes to a halt and turns around, against the wishes of every self-preservation instinct. But Baelor and Father always address and overcome their obstacles head-on, and so must he.
He will not run away; but he can’t bring himself to be wholly composed either. He contents himself with glowering and saying nothing. Dyanna’s face is twisted into a scowl when she catches up to him, her rain-drenched hair hanging in ropes, but there’s hurt there, too.
“Why are you so vexed with me?” she demands. She has to yell to be heard above the storm. “I’ve scarcely seen you of late, and when I have, you’ve been utterly disagreeable. What could I have done to wrong you so? What has changed?”
“I saw you enough.” His jaw clenches. “With...him.”
“Him? Gerris?” Incredulity dawns in her expression. “Are you jealous?”
Jealousy? Is that what this is?
He’d always thought of that as a baser emotion. Beneath him. Reserved for such people like Daemon who bristle at being outshone by a half-Dornish prince, or for possessive husbands who keep their wives under lock and key.
This can’t be jealousy, though. What could Gerris Manwoody claim that Maekar can’t? He’s a lordling, not a prince, and Maekar had bested him at sparring despite Gerris’s flaunted favor and knightly title. Just because Gerris is more confident and affable and unmarred by pox scars and--
“I’m not jealous,” he insists. “What would I have to be jealous about?”
“You tell me!” Dyanna shouts. “Gerris is a friend, that’s all. Even if he weren’t, what would it matter to you?”
He grits his teeth. “It wouldn’t. I’ve no qualm with Gerris. He’s just--he’s not--”
“You?” Dyanna’s voice has grown small. “He’s not you, you mean.”
He’s seen this look in her eyes before--she’s searching for a specific answer. Every excuse, every explanation, every objection vanishes all at once, leaving him with only panic. He doesn’t know how to do this, whatever this is. Baelor’s always been the one with the easy charm; Aerys’s cleverness is the envy of many; and Rhaegel is sweet, unassuming, gentle; Father, not known for his silver tongue, can make Mother laugh at a moment’s notice.
Maekar is none of those things. He never has been. He’s...less.
Dyanna stays doggedly silent, refusing to take the lead like she is so wont to do. He wants to say something, anything, even if it’s not the right thing (it’s never the right thing), but he has none of Aerys’s poetry.
Finally, she gives up. “Very well, then. By your leave, Prince Maekar.”
The prospect of confessing that which he’s denied for so long is paralyzing. Yet it is unthinkable to let her leave, to further open the door for her to find someone else. Gerris may be only a friend, but Dyanna is a woman grown, growing ever more beautiful by the day, and bears the name of one of the realm’s oldest houses. In short order, men near and far would seek her out, he’s certain of it.
His hand darts out to grab hers before she can step out of reach. “Anna, wait.”
She looks up at him with her blazing violet eyes rendered almost as black as the night sky above them. Except, still the words remain unspoken; his action was on impulse, not thought. He knows what he wants to say, what he wants to do, but for the life of him, he cannot take the leap.
Dyanna waits a few more expectant beats, then shakes her head in exasperation. “You are impossible.”
With that as her only warning, she clenches both hands in his doublet, leans up, and kisses him full on the mouth. He’s so astounded he can’t react at all. When she pulls away, his voice comes out strangled.
“What--why?”
“Why does anyone kiss someone else?” she counters. “I like you, Maekar. More than like, to tell it true. I thought I’d seen glimpses of the same from you, but you’ve never said anything.”
“But why?” he asks again. “Why me? Why not Baelor or Gerris or...or anyone?”
She scrunches up her nose. “Baelor’s like a brother to me,” she says, “and Gerris...I’ve told you.”
She huffs in frustration, takes his hand, and places it on the side of her neck, just under her jaw. Her heartbeat races beneath his fingertips, as if she’d run a league. Of course, she hadn’t; she’s simply been standing here.
“I know what I feel,” she continues, “and maybe you feel the same. But I can’t do this alone. I won’t. Not if you refuse to leave your brother’s shadow and think so very little of yourself.”
I like you, Maekar, she’d said. More than like.
It’s inconceivable to him, still, even after her proclamation and actions. That someone could want him--him, instead of one of the many more desirable men in the realm--let alone someone as stunning and dynamic as the Sword of the Morning’s niece. It’s--inconceivable.
Yet here she is, offering him that which he’s dreamt but never once expected.
He nods, his heart racing as fast as hers. Slowly, he slides his hand from her neck into her hair, and settles the other on her waist.
I like you, Maekar. More than like.
He doesn’t know a whit of what he’s doing, not at all, but he bends down and kisses her anyway, each of them soaked to the bone and in plain view of anyone who would chance to glance out a window. Somehow, none of it matters. Not his inexperience or the storm or anything. None of it. She pulls him closer, as though it is she and not him who had longed for this the most.
It is strange to him; not simply that she’s kissing him at all, but the kiss itself. Mother and Father both had said theirs was awkward and unpleasant, for neither of them had had a say in their betrothal, one on which the entire realm depended. It had taken them years to learn each other.
And while Lady Jena is winsome and she and Baelor seem quite fond of each other, ultimately neither had had a choice in their marriage either. Aerys and Rhaegel, they too are betrothed, though not yet joined, to ladies who were chosen for them.
But Maekar, no one had set a betrothal for him. A fourth son is of no import, will stand to inherit nothing of value. There is no noble lady whom he does not know waiting to wed him, there is no alliance he must oblige. He is free from that sort of duty, free to find love, even in these direst of times.
And gods, has he found it.
47 notes
·
View notes
Photo
The Royals #1 Review
spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers
The Royal Inhumans adventure into the cosmos starts here from the creative team of Al Ewing, Jonboy Meyers, and Ryan Kinnaird. Full recap and review following the jump.
It’s a desperate a somber time for The Inhumans of New Attilan. The threat that the Terrigen Cloud would end all Mutant life on Earth forced Queen Medusa to destroy the cloud, essentially ending The Inhumans’ way of life. No new Inhuman will again be able to go through Terrigenesis and their people must look toward to an uncertain future and the inevitable demise of their culture and heritage. Feeling responsible for the events that brought this about, Medusa has decided that her people need a new leader to guide them on this new path. She has abdicated her position as queen and dissolved the monarchy; handing leadership of New Attilan to the young Inhuman, Iso.
Now the Kree adventurer known as Marvel Boy has come to seek an audience with Iso and the formal royal Inhumans. Marvel Boy hails from an alternate reality, a reality in which The Kree Empire had ended its unyielding wars and dedicated itself to peace and scientific discovery. To this end, Marvel Boy possesses knowledge of Terrigen that could revitalize the Inhuman peoples and enable them to re-obtain the rite of Terrigenesis for subsequent generations.
Marvel Boy warns that the mission to gain the secrets of Terrigen is likely to be a perilous one, that were they to embark on this quest all might not make it home. This ominous warning does little to sway the Royals. The prospect of possibly saving the future of their race is worth any risk. Furthermore, Medusa feels it her duty, her penitence to take this journey as redemption for past failures. And her family is not going to let her go alone.
Iso, the new leader of the Inhumans, objects. Having the Royals, the strongest among the Inhumans, leave New Attilan in this precarious time of change feels far too risky, but Medusa and the others will not be swayed in their determination. The former queen had named Iso her successor, but it doesn’t seem she is actually willing to follow this lead herself.
Joining Medusa is her sister, Crystal, and their cousin, Gorgon. Black Bolt, Medusa’s one-time husband and the former king of The Inhumans will also accompany the team; as will the young new Inhuman, Swain, whose one-time position as captain of the Royal Inhuman Vessel makes her the ideal candidate to pilot their star-faring craft. Rounding out the team is Swain’s fellow new Inhuman, Flint.
The remaining Royals, Karnak, Triton and Lockjaw will remain behind. They will be there if Iso were to need their assistance, yet this does little to quell Iso’s unease. Making matters more difficult for Iso is the revelation that Iso and Flint have rekindled their romance; and she appears a touch heartbroken that Flint is so insistent on accompanying the Royals in this dangerous mission.
Prior to their departure, each member of the team makes their preparations and says their goodbyes. Crystal sits with her young daughter, Luna, expressing the great import behind her leaving and promising that she will return in short time. Crystal makes Luna promise to stay out of trouble. If trouble is to find her, however, she is to use Lockjaw to seek out her uncle Karnak (a foreshadowing that I so hopes come to pass in that it enhances the likelihood of Luna meeting Karnak’s soon-to-be teammate, Moon Girl in the pages of the up-coming Secret Warriors series).
Elsewhere, Swain is a bit saddened that her girlfriend, Panacea, is less upset over her leaving. Terrigenesis has significantly altered Panacea’s emotional process. She doesn’t feel things in a typical fashion. She cares for Swain, but the closest she can get to a declaration of tenderness is to state that she finds her fascinating and prefers that she stay alive.
We also see Gorgon beside the bed of his son, Petras, still convalescing in a coma-like state from his adverse reaction to Terrigenesis. Gorgon had hoped that he would be at his son’s side when he finally awakens, but duty has called. Panacea has been using her healing powers to treat Petras, as she had treated Gorgon; yet it appears there are limitations to what she can do. Gorgon is no longer paralyzed, but remains in a state of chronic pain, pain that substantially worsens whenever he uses his powers (not that he has allowed it to slow him down).
There is additionally a scene between Flint and Iso where we learn that the two have become an item once again. Flint has a difficult time expressing exactly what it is that has so compelled him to volunteer for this mission. Flint lost his adoptive family and discovered his biological family to be less than the idealized fantasy that he had hoped for. The Inhumans themselves are the family he has left and aiding them feels like something he simply has to do.
Next we see Medusa and Black Bolt. The relationship between the two has warmed as of late, but they remain a great deal distant compared to the intimate closeness they once enjoyed. Medusa has something she needs to speak with Black Bolt about, but he refuses to discuss it. Something is preoccupying Black Bolt, something likely having to do with the secret told to him by his brother in the pages of last week’s Inhumans Prime.
Finally, we see Noh-Varr, the mysterious Kree known as Marvel Boy. It turns out that there is more than simple altruism and the thirst for adventure that has led him to bring this quest to The Royals. Noh has motives of his own and whether or not they are sinister or benevolent remains to be seen. I assume that is Noh’s old buddy, the living computer known as, Plex, that he’s talking with (but I suppose we’ll have to wait to find out for sure).
The seven adventurers depart at dawn aboard the starcraft, Astarion, named after an Inhuman hero of ancient lore. Their destination the former Kree throne-world of Hala.
The issue begins with two prologues. The first prologue shows the distant future of a mysterious realm known as Arctilan. Giant armor-clad beings ride atop enormous pterodactyls above an alien city of glass and steel. Yet is it an alien world? Various hints suggest that this strange realm may be the earth of five thousand years in the future.
One of the riders descends down to a tower baring the flags of the House of Boltigon. There he is met by ‘the ghost who ever sleeps,’ a frail and ancient being who bears a passing resemblance to an aged Black Bolt. The rider refers to the older, much smaller man as ‘Inhu-Man.’ Solemnly, the old man trades salutations with the rider before returning inside to his lonely layer. He looks up to a large stone carving in which mysterious words are inscribed in the Inhuman language of Tilan.
The man seems to be recalling back to an adventure from his distant past… a mission in which seven ventured forth and only six returned.
Who exactly this ancient Inhuman is and the dire nature of his statement is set to be revealed in subsequent installments of the story.
A second prologue shows Medusa, Gorgon, Iso and Flint battling to contain a new Inhuman who has awaken from Terrigenesis to find herself transformed into a giant monster. Frightened and confused, this new Inhuman has lashed out and the others have come contain her and help her contend with what has happened to her.
Her name is Mrs. Bellhauer. She was a recluse and her time in her Terrigenic cocoon was longer than most. In all likelihood, she will be the last of the new Inhumans created on earth and the mere thought of it is enough to bring a tear to Medusa’s eye.
Iso and Flint make short work of subduing the rampaging Mrs. Bellhauer. Though she is proud over just how far her pupils have come, Medusa is also given pause by how weak and tired she has been feeling as of late. Something is wrong and it is getting worse quickly. She had tried to confide in Black Bolt about this matter, but he hadn’t the time to discuss it.
At the end of the issue we see Medusa sitting in the command chair aboard The Astarion. She notices that a sizable lock of her hair has broken free from her mane, brittle and sick. She can push it to the back of her thinking no more. Something is very wrong and she announces to the rest of the crew her grave prediction...
seven ventured forth and only six returned...
Wow! What a great first issue. This is the Inhumans that I have been so looking forward to seeing. I’m one of those fans who greatly enjoyed Charles Soule run on The Inhumans, yet I understood that he was asked to follow a guideline to make the franchise more accessible to a broader audience, to make them more akin to traditional super heroics. Al Ewing has clearly been given no such constraints and he delves right into all of the weird, cosmic, sci-fi coolness that has made The Inhumans so special to me.
Referring to the earlier scene, Medusa looks up at this poor woman who has been transformed into a giant slimy monster and sheds a tear that the majesty of this may never happen again. There is not even the consideration that this Mrs. Bellhauer likely doesn’t feel the same; indeed she’s probably quite distraught over having been transformed into a monster. Yet that’s not how Medusa sees it… why? Because she’s a weird alien queen from a bizarre and outré culture. No apologies are given. The Inhumans are all about sci-fi weirdness and Ewing is allowing it to go their full steam ahead. It makes me almost giddy with excitement.
Though I’m certainly less excited and not giddy at all over this prospect that Medusa may be dying. We all know that one member of the team is destined to perish on this mission, it has hung like an ominous cloud over the title since Ewing’s initial interviews regarding the project in which he stated a cast member wasn’t going to make it back. Medusa was among the Inhumans I felt least likely to die. There is of course no certainty that she will die, but it’s made clear from the onset that none of the Inhumans are safe. It’s a matter that makes me equal parts excited and frightened to read the nest installment.
The dialogue captures the characters quite well and it is made abundantly clear that Ewing has boned up on his Inhuman reading in preparing for this run. I’m especially happy to see so many of the plot threads from James Asmus’ all-too-short run on All New Inhumans being brought back into the foreground (such as Swain and Panacea’s relationship and the status of Gorgon’s son, Petras). It’s impressive that the issue packs so much plot yet the characterizations doesn’t at all feel pushed to the back burner.
Lots of intriguing questions are asked not just about The Royals’ mission, but also over what is going on for each of the cast members. What is Marvel Boy’s ulterior motives? Why is Gorgon pushing himself so hard? What secret is Black Bolt harboring? Why is Crystal leaving so soon after reuniting with her daughter? What so compels Flint to join the team? Why is Swain so reluctant over her powers? And most importantly, is Medusa going to be okay???
I’m happy to report that I very much enjoyed the art by Jonboy Meyers and Ryan Kinnaird. The initial preview had me a bit worried that Meyers’ kinetic, manga style would not be to my liking… that it would look too similar to those 1990’s-era books from Image Comics that so turned me off. There’s a lot of flash to Meyer’s illustration. The poses are exaggerated and the action jumps off the page with dynamic energy. Yet he also does quite well in using facial expressions to relay emotion. Medusa’s sorrow, Noh-Varr’s smirky arrogance, Flint’s anxious determination and Black Bolt’s stoic unease are all extremely evident in the way Meyers’ details their faces and expressions. Top marks.
Furthermore Meyers’ page composition and backgrounds are very nicely executed. In short, I’m relived and excited that my reservations over Meyers’ art were completely unfounded.
A brand new chapter of The Inhumans mythos starts here and it is a truly fantastic (albeit frightening) beginning.
I’ll be very interested to hear what others thought about this debut issue. As an Inhuman super-fan, I feel like I’m not very suited to write an unbiased review. Nevertheless, with this issue, I’m feeling rather confident that others are going to share in my enthusiasm.
Of course recommended; Five out of Five Lockjaws.
17 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
