#aaaaaaaaart

More Than This

The tiled entry shimmers as light dances across the sparkling-clean marble, though she has been left in a shadowed corner. She isn’t sure how long she’s been here, but she no longer feels the pain in her knees. A bit of respite, if only for a moment.

Above her, a friendly, conversational voice, lilting and sweet.

“It’s hardly even fit for polite company, Askar! Couldn’t you have brought me an aesthetically pleasing one? You know how I prefer to shield my salon guests from the ugliness that pervades the Empire.” A sigh, light as a zephyr. “I suppose if I can’t clean it up well enough to not turn my guests’ stomachs, I’ll simply send it to my research team and contact you again.” The tone doesn’t change but for the faintest note of threat dancing along its underbelly. “If that happens, Askar, I expect a discount for my troubles.”

“My lord.”

Footsteps fade, and cold metal slides under her chin, sharp and unrelenting, a counterpoint to the dull ache in her head.

“Askar warned me about you, though I’m hardly surprised one of your … kind acts like an animal.” The metal presses tighter, stopping just short of breaking the delicate skin.  “You will remember your place, slave. It is here, at the feet of those who truly make the Empire great. Know that you will never be more than this, and be grateful I may yet find you a useful tool.”

Kryn stands on the wide balcony, staring unseeing at the tempestuous waters of Yaikish Wâshleq, fingertips unconsciously brushing her cheekbone as the scene plays out in her mind, its razor edges softened somewhat by the haze of time but for one thing.

Know that you will never be more than this.

A rumbling voice pulls her out of this unwelcome memory. “Kryn, they’re ready for us in the gardens if you’re -” Marr pauses, studying her. “What is it?”

“Hmm?” She smooths an errant strand of hair back off her forehead as she turns away from the balcony’s railing. “Oh, just lost in reverie, I suppose.”

“Generally, reveries are pleasant, qilitzarai,” he says, extending his arm. “This didn’t seem very pleasant.”

Kryn takes it, falling into step with him as they cross the room. “Quite the contrary; triumph over my enemies is always pleasant, Majesty.” She smiles up at him as they pause at the top of the sweeping staircase. “Shall we?”

inspired by this fic,, (no clue if the author is active anywhere rn :( very cute very healing)