The Binding of the Heart

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Salt, Apr 4, 2012.

  1. Nicodemus stood silently, eyes cast out to observe the now setting sun to the west. He was standing on a terrace fashioned out of marble, and was leaning as far forward that was allocated without him falling and ultimately plunging to his demise. Even so, his feet were slipped between the pillars that supported the railing, as a mere safety measure if he were to take a tumble, accidental or not. He might do it just for the thrill of it, things were always fun if the possibility of dying were present. That was one of Nico's very, very secret pleasures. He was a thrill seeker. Yes, Nicodemus Zosimos, the son of the previous Guardian and Prince that took place in the Binding of the Heart tradition, Nicodemus Zosimos, the son widely known for being an introverted emotionless husk of a man. There's a reason it's a well-kept secret. So well-kept, in fact, that he's the only one who knows it! Well, unless you count his bird.

    The setting sun his gaze was fixated on was the setting sun that marked the night before the next cycle. The next ceremony. The next tradition. His mother was dead and now it was time for the sentient magic that dwelled inside her to find it's new host, and during the same tradition, it was time for Nico's future wife to be announced. He cursed the magic inside, upset that it was merely using his mother as a host, and that it would select whom Nico would be bound to for the rest of his life. He felt sad at the same time, that is first-born son would have to befall the same fate he was now.

    At least it was Green. Green had always been one of his favorite colors as he was growing up, being replaced only once as he grew up, by the color Maroon. So at least it still stayed in his top three rankings. If anything, he would at least admire the color of his future wife's hair. This sent him on a tangent of thoughts, each one leading to him wondering what she'd be like, and if they'd even be compatible.

    That last thought received an audible scoff from him. As if anybody was compatible with him, he hated nearly everybody. Those he did like were treated with a sort of formal respect and that was it, Nico had never even truly loved a person. He wasn't even sure if he had loved his parents, because love and it's many forms, were foreign concepts to him. They still are foreign concepts to him. He cannot fathom feeling that way for somebody, and so, in a way, he hopes that love does not blossom between him and the woman he is bound to, to prevent the tradition from carrying on.

    But he knows even that is impossible, because love-riddled or not, it is required he bear children with the Guardian, as many times as required until a son is born. He scowled at the thought, of making love without truly being in love. Even if he hadn't experienced yet, even if he hadn't fully understood it yet, he knew he was going to have a hard time providing offspring without being in love.

    He leaned forward more, feet catching the pillars and keeping him rooted to whatever safety he had left. He considered unanchoring himself for a split second, questioning the thrill of free-fall. That would be an easy way to prevent the tradition, killing off the only son of the previous prince. Then who would they marry off? Probably his father once more, and the thought of his father marrying just a teenage girl made him hoist himself back over and stand up straight.

    "Not a long enough fall anyway..." He muttered bitterly, to nobody in particular. In fact, if one were to be observing, they would have simply thought he were talking to the sun like a crazy person, for his gaze was still fixed on the sliver that had yet to sink below the horizon. Evening twilight had begun to set in, dusk inching it's way into effect. His thought fleeted with the sunlight, and as the last of it sank below the horizon, so did his worries about the following morning into the dark recesses of his mind.

    He stood still for about ten minutes, just staring empty headed at the horizon before deciding to turn tail and head off the terrace and into his room, swiftly taking off his shirt and throwing it to the floor. He tipped forward, letting gravity take it's hold on him and force him into his bed, hands clutching the blankets and pulling them towards his chest as he curled up into a ball, head nuzzling into the pillow. He lay for what seemed like an eternity, slowly slipping off into sleep. And when he finally did, a single tear promptly ran down his cheek and soaked into his pillow as his thoughts slipped into unconsciousness and he began to dream about his mother.
  2. The house was silent that evening, the sun still peaking over the horizon, almost as if it was trying to make the day last just a little longer before the evening took control of the world. The country was quiet at the moment, only the occasional tweet of a bird or the chirp of a cricket filling the silence. It was silent for a good reason as well, for tomorrow the most important ceremony in the country was going to take place the very next day. The ceremony to fine the next guardian and a bride for the prince. Though most girls were excited about it, the idea of being a queen blinding them from the truth of the situation, one girl was not...

    Zita let out a very small sigh as she looked over the golden harp sitting in the corner of her room, the large instrument to large for her to pack for the more than likely one night stay in the capital for the ceremony. She would be taken to the capital in the morning, picked up by royal carriage along with all the other girl from the nearby farming town, and then put through the ceremony. A guardian would be found and then she would spend a night there in the capital before they sent her home. At least, that was what the letter had said that she and many other girls had been scent. She just couldn't imagine the number of girls that would be there tomorrow, easily in the hundred thousands! And all just for a long standing tradition that very few people understood. She went along with it though, looking at the trip as a chance to finally see that capital for the first time.

    She glanced back to her bag, it still half empty and sitting open on her bed and she continued to stand there next to it, some extra clothing in her arms just in case she was able to wander around the city after the ceremony. A light knock came to her door then, bringing her from her thoughts and also making her focus back on the task at hand.

    "Come in~" She called in a sing song way, her father stepping in with a smile on his face.

    He was a heavy set man but also very smart, that being one of the reasons he was the music teacher for the school in town. Before them, no on could sing a note or play a song but now one could hear singing in the fields and then fathers worked away, their children having taught the songs to them in hurried excitement after their first day of music class. He adjusted his large glasses on his face as he approached his daughter, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as he smiled down at her. In his eyes though there was a glint of sadness, knowing that this ceremony meant that his daughter was not longer that innocent and tiny girl that he raised any longer.

    "How, goes the packing, Ztia? Have you everything you'll need?"

    "Everything but what I need most..." She replied with a small smile as both of them looking over to the golden harp once again.

    "Leave it here...I shall send it if you are chosen." He teased as he patted her shoulder and pulled back, leaning over to look into her bag. "Do you have your brushes? Your nice clothing? Don't forget the letter either..." He started to list, obviously the common concerned parent.

    "I have everything father, I'm only just packing some spare things just in case...I doubt I'll be chosen anyway. I mean, I'm destined for spreading musical education around...not getting locked in a stuffy castle...though I would gladly play for the future king and queen." She said to him with a simple grin, apparently neither of them had much faith in her getting selected, but then again neither of them cared.

    The magic had faded so much that it just wasn't thought much of anymore. They did not see the blessing that magic was mostly because they did not understand it. But these days, who did? If anything, music was magic in their eyes and it was that magic that they preferred to weave. Her father just shook his head and chuckled, leaving the conversation on the ceremony to drop and happier talk to continue on. Though it did not seem like it, both had a deeper fear that neither wanted to admit...because they feared that maybe...just maybe...the magic might actually choose her and take her away...