FIC: Your Own Legacy (The Goblin Emperor)
Apr. 4th, 2016 11:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meteordustTitle: Your Own Legacy
Author: Serenade
Fandom: The Goblin Emperor
Category: Gen
Rating: PG
Summary: Tethimar has a bastard son who comes to court. Inspired by this prompt.
When the guardsmen entered the barracks, Aris knew who they had come for, even before they called his name. All week, he had tried to keep his head down, follow orders, and blend in with the rest of the new recruits to the Untheileneise Guard. But the rumours around him swelled like a rising tide, impossible for him to ignore. And clearly impossible for those in authority to ignore.
Aris was escorted out, while everyone pretended not to stare, the way they pretended not to whisper. This was it. The end of his career before it even began.
They led him to a small windowless room, where Captain Orthema waited, along with a lieutenant whose face was like stone. The captain sent the guardsmen outside, while he studied Aris with care, taking in every feature of his face. What he saw made his mouth tighten and his fingers crease the papers on the desk.
Aris gathered enough of his senses to make a formal salute. "Are we under arrest, sir?" He was proud of the fact that his voice hardly shook.
"No, Mer Navar," Captain Orthema said. "But we have reason to believe you have not been forthright in your interview with the recruiting sergeant. That is, regarding your parentage."
He laid out the damning evidence, as Aris listened numbly. They had sent to his hometown for confirmation of the details he had given. There was no record of the father he claimed: no register of his birth, or his death, or his purported marriage to Aris's mother.
"What do you have to say to this?" the captain said, leaning forward in his chair.
"We have told only the truth. We swear it." Aris drew in a shaky breath. "All the truth we know."
A cough came from the soldier who stood beside the captain. The captain nodded to him, opening a hand. "Go ahead, Lieutenant Beshelar."
The lieutenant cast a steely gaze over Aris. "Did your mother ever mention the name Eshevis Tethimar?"
The words hung in the air like smoke.
His mother had never spoken that name. But Aris had heard it many times this past week: muttered in corners, whispered behind fans. The name of a traitor who had plotted to take the throne, and had died for it. The name of a traitor whose face Aris bore.
He shook his head. The name echoed in his skull.
Beshelar pressed on with a barrage of questions. What was his association with the Tethimada? Why did he leave Aveio to come to Cetho? Why did he join the Untheileneise Guard?
Aris could only repeat what he had told the recruiting sergeant, but he could tell that his fumbling answers were unconvincing. Finally, he said, helplessly, "We only wished to serve."
"To serve? Do you know what it means to serve the emperor?" Beshelar drew back his sleeve, to show a jagged white scar on his forearm. "We received this five years ago, from a dagger intended for His Serenity. Do you know whose hand wielded that dagger?"
Aris knew. Everyone knew. But he could not seem to form an answer with his tongue.
"We have had treachery from within these walls before," Beshelar said, "to our eternal shame. It will never happen again. That, we have sworn."
"You're terrifying him," said a voice from the door. It belonged to a man in the blue robes of a maza, who wandered inside, heedless of the tension.
Beshelar looked affronted. "We are questioning him." He covered up his arm again.
"As we said." The maza bowed to the captain, then turned to Aris, blinking with benevolent curiosity. "Mer Navar, is it not? We are Cala Athmaza, First Nohecharis to the emperor. Along with Lieutenant Beshelar here."
Aris knew that name. There were two men who had protected the emperor from the traitor who had tried to kill him. One had shielded the emperor with his body. And the other had slain Tethimar with a single word.
"Are you here to execute us?" he blurted before he could stop himself.
Cala lifted his ears in surprise. "Of course not. You have committed no crime. Lieutenant, what have you been telling him?" But before Aris could breathe a sigh of relief, Cala went on. "We are here to bring you before the emperor."
#
They brought him through the iron grilles of the Alcethmeret, beyond which lay the emperor's own residence. Guards and servants moved with purpose along its corridors. This was the heart of the palace, where only the most trusted were allowed. It was an honour to be chosen to serve here. Aris had not dared voice his hopes aloud, but he had dared to imagine. Someday. Not like this.
They were announced at the door of an audience room warm with amber silk. They were barely across the threshold when Aris knelt, prostrating himself before the glimpsed figure on the throne.
"Your Imperial Serenity," he said.
"Rise," said a clear voice.
Slowly, Aris stood. As he lifted his face, an audible gasp rippled the air.
He was aware of several people in the room, watching and murmuring, but his attention was focused on the man seated before him. He was robed in imperial white, a stark contrast to his goblin dark skin and curling dark hair. His eyes were grey. Observant. His clasped hands betrayed a subtle tension. He was only a few years older than Aris, but he wielded the power of an empire. So this was Edrehasivar the Seventh. They regarded each other with open curiosity, Aris forgetting for a moment his fear.
"Well," came a new voice, "the resemblance is remarkable. He has the same eyes."
The woman who had spoken, standing beside the throne, could only be the empress. Csethiro Zhasan. He knew only two things about her: she had borne an heir last winter, and she ran a school of swordsmanship for girls. Like the guards, she was armed, a sword hanging at her hip. Beautifully crafted, but he sensed it was more than ceremonial: gilded, with a core of steel.
Csethiro remarked, "It's astonishing he remained hidden for so long."
Edrehasivar gazed at him with those keen grey eyes. "Mer Navar. Your arrival has sparked many rumours. That you are a lost scion of the Tethimada. That you are here to seek revenge. We wish to put an end to rumour, by discovering the truth."
Aris swallowed, throat dry. "Serenity. We mean you no ill. We came here because our mother died, and there was nothing left to keep us in Aveio. We wished to do something better with our life." Something to make her proud.
"And your father?"
"She did not like to speak of him. She would tell us, 'He is best forgotten.' We thought, perhaps, he was a sailor lost at sea, or a soldier killed in battle." He had never dared imagine a noble father, as other boys did. He knew it was the stuff of wonder-tales.
A knock on the door. A secretary came in, arms full of papers. When he caught sight of Aris, he halted in his tracks, face going bloodless, ears flattening to his skull. The pile of papers tilted and slid to the floor.
Aris flushed. He wanted nothing more than to cover his face and flee. Instead, he dropped to his knees and fumbled for the fallen papers, head ducked. "Sorry, we are sorry..."
The secretary likewise knelt to gather up the papers. He accepted those that Aris offered him, a strange expression on his face. "Thank you." With a deep breath, he straightened, his gaze swinging from Aris to the emperor. "Our apologies, Serenity."
The emperor looked concerned, but all he said was, "Yes, Csevet?"
"We have made inquiries. Eighteen years ago, in Aveio, Caro Navin gave birth to a son. But before that, she was a serving maid at Eshoravee. The Tethimada estate." He paused for emphasis. "She left suddenly, without giving notice, or telling anyone where she had gone."
Aris could hardly bear to hear this. It was the final confirmation of his fears. His mother had concealed a terrible secret from him: that he was the bastard son of a dead traitor.
Csevet said, "It appears to have been common for servants to depart Eshoravee this way, if they were able to leave. Eshevis Tethimar was not a man who accepted rejection. Min Navin was far from the only servant who was--targeted by his attentions."
Aris had not thought it could get worse than this. Despair coiled in his belly. How could his mother look at his face, and not see reflected the face of her tormentor? How could she even bear it?
"Mer Navar?" Csethiro said. "Are you well?"
They were all staring at Aris now, as he struggled to keep his composure: not only the empress and the emperor, but Lieutenant Beshelar, who still bore the wound taken in his defence, and Cala Athmaza, whose magic had killed to protect the emperor. There was altogether too much history in this room. The weight of it was suffocating.
"She never told us," he said, in a low voice. "She chose to go to her grave without telling us."
"She wanted to protect you," Edrehasivar said.
"From the shame?" Aris said.
"From your father."
Aris let out a shaky breath, blinking a little. What his mother had been through, he could not imagine. And yet she loved him. She loved him anyway.
Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed.
"There remains a thorny problem, Edrehasivar," Csethiro said. "What will you do with him?"
Aris wondered the same thing. He had come here ready to start a new life. He had a certificate of graduation from the local school. He had a letter of recommendation from the prelate of the ulimeire. But his past was written on his face, like a brand. Written in his dark blue eyes.
The Tethimada were no more. A house whose name had been erased, its fortune scattered to the winds. All its bloodline were banished from the capital, relegated to the distant corners of the empire.
The emperor hesitated. "The sisters of your father dwell with Prince Orchenis of Thu-Athamar. He is charged with their care, until such time as they are wed. We could send you to join them. Your needs would be provided for. You would be safe and comfortable there."
It would be something like house arrest. Under guard, for his entire life. His stomach sank. "Is that your command, Serenity?"
"What would you wish?"
Aris knew what he had wanted. Now, he found he still wanted it. To prove himself to all the doubters. To defend the emperor to the last drop of his blood.
"Only to serve you, Serenity."
Beshelar burst out, "Surely, Csethiro Zhasan would not countenance such a risk!"
"Csethiro Zhasan can speak for herself," the empress said. "And judge for herself."
Csevet looked thoughtful. "It is likely that he would draw conspiracies to him. Regardless of his intentions."
"All the better reason to keep a close eye on him," Cala said.
Beshelar growled, incredulous, "Here. At court. Near the emperor who extirpated his House."
"I have never been a Tethimada!" Aris said. Into the sudden silence, he said, with certainty, "We are not like our father."
The emperor gazed back at him, a surprising sympathy in his eyes. "We believe you, Aris Navar. We cannot choose our relatives. We cannot choose our birth. But we believe," Edrehasivar said, "in choosing one's own name. And one's own path."
AO3
Author: Serenade
Fandom: The Goblin Emperor
Category: Gen
Rating: PG
Summary: Tethimar has a bastard son who comes to court. Inspired by this prompt.
When the guardsmen entered the barracks, Aris knew who they had come for, even before they called his name. All week, he had tried to keep his head down, follow orders, and blend in with the rest of the new recruits to the Untheileneise Guard. But the rumours around him swelled like a rising tide, impossible for him to ignore. And clearly impossible for those in authority to ignore.
Aris was escorted out, while everyone pretended not to stare, the way they pretended not to whisper. This was it. The end of his career before it even began.
They led him to a small windowless room, where Captain Orthema waited, along with a lieutenant whose face was like stone. The captain sent the guardsmen outside, while he studied Aris with care, taking in every feature of his face. What he saw made his mouth tighten and his fingers crease the papers on the desk.
Aris gathered enough of his senses to make a formal salute. "Are we under arrest, sir?" He was proud of the fact that his voice hardly shook.
"No, Mer Navar," Captain Orthema said. "But we have reason to believe you have not been forthright in your interview with the recruiting sergeant. That is, regarding your parentage."
He laid out the damning evidence, as Aris listened numbly. They had sent to his hometown for confirmation of the details he had given. There was no record of the father he claimed: no register of his birth, or his death, or his purported marriage to Aris's mother.
"What do you have to say to this?" the captain said, leaning forward in his chair.
"We have told only the truth. We swear it." Aris drew in a shaky breath. "All the truth we know."
A cough came from the soldier who stood beside the captain. The captain nodded to him, opening a hand. "Go ahead, Lieutenant Beshelar."
The lieutenant cast a steely gaze over Aris. "Did your mother ever mention the name Eshevis Tethimar?"
The words hung in the air like smoke.
His mother had never spoken that name. But Aris had heard it many times this past week: muttered in corners, whispered behind fans. The name of a traitor who had plotted to take the throne, and had died for it. The name of a traitor whose face Aris bore.
He shook his head. The name echoed in his skull.
Beshelar pressed on with a barrage of questions. What was his association with the Tethimada? Why did he leave Aveio to come to Cetho? Why did he join the Untheileneise Guard?
Aris could only repeat what he had told the recruiting sergeant, but he could tell that his fumbling answers were unconvincing. Finally, he said, helplessly, "We only wished to serve."
"To serve? Do you know what it means to serve the emperor?" Beshelar drew back his sleeve, to show a jagged white scar on his forearm. "We received this five years ago, from a dagger intended for His Serenity. Do you know whose hand wielded that dagger?"
Aris knew. Everyone knew. But he could not seem to form an answer with his tongue.
"We have had treachery from within these walls before," Beshelar said, "to our eternal shame. It will never happen again. That, we have sworn."
"You're terrifying him," said a voice from the door. It belonged to a man in the blue robes of a maza, who wandered inside, heedless of the tension.
Beshelar looked affronted. "We are questioning him." He covered up his arm again.
"As we said." The maza bowed to the captain, then turned to Aris, blinking with benevolent curiosity. "Mer Navar, is it not? We are Cala Athmaza, First Nohecharis to the emperor. Along with Lieutenant Beshelar here."
Aris knew that name. There were two men who had protected the emperor from the traitor who had tried to kill him. One had shielded the emperor with his body. And the other had slain Tethimar with a single word.
"Are you here to execute us?" he blurted before he could stop himself.
Cala lifted his ears in surprise. "Of course not. You have committed no crime. Lieutenant, what have you been telling him?" But before Aris could breathe a sigh of relief, Cala went on. "We are here to bring you before the emperor."
They brought him through the iron grilles of the Alcethmeret, beyond which lay the emperor's own residence. Guards and servants moved with purpose along its corridors. This was the heart of the palace, where only the most trusted were allowed. It was an honour to be chosen to serve here. Aris had not dared voice his hopes aloud, but he had dared to imagine. Someday. Not like this.
They were announced at the door of an audience room warm with amber silk. They were barely across the threshold when Aris knelt, prostrating himself before the glimpsed figure on the throne.
"Your Imperial Serenity," he said.
"Rise," said a clear voice.
Slowly, Aris stood. As he lifted his face, an audible gasp rippled the air.
He was aware of several people in the room, watching and murmuring, but his attention was focused on the man seated before him. He was robed in imperial white, a stark contrast to his goblin dark skin and curling dark hair. His eyes were grey. Observant. His clasped hands betrayed a subtle tension. He was only a few years older than Aris, but he wielded the power of an empire. So this was Edrehasivar the Seventh. They regarded each other with open curiosity, Aris forgetting for a moment his fear.
"Well," came a new voice, "the resemblance is remarkable. He has the same eyes."
The woman who had spoken, standing beside the throne, could only be the empress. Csethiro Zhasan. He knew only two things about her: she had borne an heir last winter, and she ran a school of swordsmanship for girls. Like the guards, she was armed, a sword hanging at her hip. Beautifully crafted, but he sensed it was more than ceremonial: gilded, with a core of steel.
Csethiro remarked, "It's astonishing he remained hidden for so long."
Edrehasivar gazed at him with those keen grey eyes. "Mer Navar. Your arrival has sparked many rumours. That you are a lost scion of the Tethimada. That you are here to seek revenge. We wish to put an end to rumour, by discovering the truth."
Aris swallowed, throat dry. "Serenity. We mean you no ill. We came here because our mother died, and there was nothing left to keep us in Aveio. We wished to do something better with our life." Something to make her proud.
"And your father?"
"She did not like to speak of him. She would tell us, 'He is best forgotten.' We thought, perhaps, he was a sailor lost at sea, or a soldier killed in battle." He had never dared imagine a noble father, as other boys did. He knew it was the stuff of wonder-tales.
A knock on the door. A secretary came in, arms full of papers. When he caught sight of Aris, he halted in his tracks, face going bloodless, ears flattening to his skull. The pile of papers tilted and slid to the floor.
Aris flushed. He wanted nothing more than to cover his face and flee. Instead, he dropped to his knees and fumbled for the fallen papers, head ducked. "Sorry, we are sorry..."
The secretary likewise knelt to gather up the papers. He accepted those that Aris offered him, a strange expression on his face. "Thank you." With a deep breath, he straightened, his gaze swinging from Aris to the emperor. "Our apologies, Serenity."
The emperor looked concerned, but all he said was, "Yes, Csevet?"
"We have made inquiries. Eighteen years ago, in Aveio, Caro Navin gave birth to a son. But before that, she was a serving maid at Eshoravee. The Tethimada estate." He paused for emphasis. "She left suddenly, without giving notice, or telling anyone where she had gone."
Aris could hardly bear to hear this. It was the final confirmation of his fears. His mother had concealed a terrible secret from him: that he was the bastard son of a dead traitor.
Csevet said, "It appears to have been common for servants to depart Eshoravee this way, if they were able to leave. Eshevis Tethimar was not a man who accepted rejection. Min Navin was far from the only servant who was--targeted by his attentions."
Aris had not thought it could get worse than this. Despair coiled in his belly. How could his mother look at his face, and not see reflected the face of her tormentor? How could she even bear it?
"Mer Navar?" Csethiro said. "Are you well?"
They were all staring at Aris now, as he struggled to keep his composure: not only the empress and the emperor, but Lieutenant Beshelar, who still bore the wound taken in his defence, and Cala Athmaza, whose magic had killed to protect the emperor. There was altogether too much history in this room. The weight of it was suffocating.
"She never told us," he said, in a low voice. "She chose to go to her grave without telling us."
"She wanted to protect you," Edrehasivar said.
"From the shame?" Aris said.
"From your father."
Aris let out a shaky breath, blinking a little. What his mother had been through, he could not imagine. And yet she loved him. She loved him anyway.
Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed.
"There remains a thorny problem, Edrehasivar," Csethiro said. "What will you do with him?"
Aris wondered the same thing. He had come here ready to start a new life. He had a certificate of graduation from the local school. He had a letter of recommendation from the prelate of the ulimeire. But his past was written on his face, like a brand. Written in his dark blue eyes.
The Tethimada were no more. A house whose name had been erased, its fortune scattered to the winds. All its bloodline were banished from the capital, relegated to the distant corners of the empire.
The emperor hesitated. "The sisters of your father dwell with Prince Orchenis of Thu-Athamar. He is charged with their care, until such time as they are wed. We could send you to join them. Your needs would be provided for. You would be safe and comfortable there."
It would be something like house arrest. Under guard, for his entire life. His stomach sank. "Is that your command, Serenity?"
"What would you wish?"
Aris knew what he had wanted. Now, he found he still wanted it. To prove himself to all the doubters. To defend the emperor to the last drop of his blood.
"Only to serve you, Serenity."
Beshelar burst out, "Surely, Csethiro Zhasan would not countenance such a risk!"
"Csethiro Zhasan can speak for herself," the empress said. "And judge for herself."
Csevet looked thoughtful. "It is likely that he would draw conspiracies to him. Regardless of his intentions."
"All the better reason to keep a close eye on him," Cala said.
Beshelar growled, incredulous, "Here. At court. Near the emperor who extirpated his House."
"I have never been a Tethimada!" Aris said. Into the sudden silence, he said, with certainty, "We are not like our father."
The emperor gazed back at him, a surprising sympathy in his eyes. "We believe you, Aris Navar. We cannot choose our relatives. We cannot choose our birth. But we believe," Edrehasivar said, "in choosing one's own name. And one's own path."
AO3
