Creatormas Drabbles Set 1

[hrhrionastar]

For the peoplespalace 12 Prompts of Rahlmas--organized chronologically, these three are all pre-series.

Title: The One That Got Away
Characters/Pairing: Panis Rahl/OC, Zedd
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 261
Prompt: mistletoe

 

Creatormas, early in the reign of Panis Rahl...

The One That Got Away

The serving maid was laden down with gold-encrusted plates and goblets, dressed in well-mended rags—in spite of these misfortunes, she was surely the most beautiful girl in Creation.

“Let me get those for you,” Panis Rahl purred, taking the majority of the dishes from her arms and setting them on a convenient inlaid sidetable.

“My Lord,” she protested, “I must—“

Panis smiled at her, taking the last dishes away and tilting her chin upward between his fingers. He looked up significantly. “Mistletoe,” he offered, by way of salve for her conscience. Not that she need worry about displeasing the head cook more than the Lord Rahl.

“My Lord,” she gasped. Without further ado, he took her in his arms and kissed her. She was as delectable as he had imagined.

Unfortunately, just as Panis was thinking of dragging the girl to the nearest convenient side chamber, the mistletoe, precariously attached, drooped down and caught itself in Panis’s hair.

He tried to shake it off, but the girl leaned closer to him, and he leaned back at the same moment, so that the girl’s chest pressed against him, but the mistletoe scraped a path through his hair and jabbed itself into his eye.

“Ow!” bellowed Panis. The girl ran away in fright, quite forgetting her dishes—

Later, when Zedd had seen to his eye, Panis said wrathfully, “Henceforth, mistletoe will be banned from D’Hara! Never, never again—“

Zedd was only relieved that Panis’s hurt pride hadn’t made him ban Creatormas. Mistletoe was really only a small sacrifice—comparatively speaking.

Title: Peace on Earth...
Characters/Pairing: Cara, Denna, Dahlia, Triana, Garen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 302
Prompt: Peace on Earth and good will to men

 

Creatormas, in the 17th year of the reign of Darken Rahl...

Peace on Earth…

“You don’t understand!” the man cried. “You can’t do this to me!”

“Someone shut him up…” complained Triana. She and Garen dragged the man, who was a priest in the retinue of Lord Naft of the Northern reaches, and thus attired in a huge fur cloak, toward the dungeons.

Lord Naft had insulted Lord Rahl terribly, but, as all his Mord’Sith knew well, Lord Rahl wasn’t ready to deal with his insolence properly. So, the priest would suffer for it.

Cara told herself it didn’t signify, but the truth was that Lord Naft annoyed her. If only Lord Rahl would let her train him…

“This is feeble sport,” said Denna, critically surveying their captive. “Look at him—What’s-Her-Name, the new girl, could break him.”

“Please!” Lord Naft’s priest begged.

“I don’t know,” protested Dahlia, “What’s-Her-Name only started her training yesterday.”

“Exactly,” Denna said sharply.

“This is our Creatormas gift for Lord Rahl,” Cara said reprovingly. “You should show proper respect.”

Denna rolled her eyes. “Lord Rahl’s pet,” she said contemptuously—but they all knew she was jealous.

Cara stepped menacingly forward—she always got cranky at Creatormas—

“Creatormas!” said the priest, as one grasping at straws. “Is a time for peace on earth—“ Garen kicked him viciously, but he valiantly continued—“and good will toward men!”

The five Mord’Sith stared at him blankly for a long moment. Then Cara started to laugh.

Denna gasped and laughed until she cried—Cara hung onto Denna’s shoulder for support—Triana said, between guffaws, “Happy Creatormas!”

Dahlia hit the priest over the head with her agiel, knocking him unconscious—“before he kills us all!” she wheezed, hysterically.

“To die laughing…” Garen mused, much struck.

“Good will—“ gasped Cara. Unaccountable tears pricked her eyelids, and she buried her face in Denna’s shoulder.

Happy Creatormas, indeed.

Title: Little Deaths
Characters/Pairing: Cara/Dahlia, Denna
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 322
Prompt: Saint Nick

Creatormas, in the 17th year of the reign of Darken Rahl...

Little Deaths

Dahlia’s mother used to talk about Saint Nick. How he would come and leave presents for good little girls, on Creatormas Eve.

It was the Creatormas before she was taken that Dahlia finally accused her mother of lying to her: everyone knew there was no such thing as Saint Nick. If he’d ever lived at all, he was long since in the Underworld.

And Dahlia’s mother had sighed, and nodded, and explained that, even though Saint Nick didn’t visit every house, didn’t leave presents, he still lived on, because everyone who believed honored Saint Nick’s spirit. They gave and gave, trying to bring a little joy into the hearts of their friends and neighbors, on Creatormas.

Not every lesson so internalized could be broken out of Dahlia.

Thus it was that she laid the little bottles of salve on the empty beds of each of her roommates. She longed to mark Cara’s out as special somehow—a ribbon, perhaps. But Saint Nick was supposed to be anonymous, so she left it as it was.

Salve for the skin—maybe salve for the heart.

“What are you doing?” the voice was high and incredulous. Dahlia whipped around, braid swinging, to face Denna. “Are those—are those Creatormas gifts?”

Dahlia glared, mind racing. How to deny everything—?

“How sweet,” Denna said, her smile sharp enough to draw blood. “Our little bitch. Did your mistress teach you this trick, puppy?”

Dahlia launched herself at Denna, too angry even to reach for her agiels, resorting to her fingernails—scraping blood from that perfect, golden face—

“This bitch bites,” she said, and suited action to word—

Denna fought back, of course, and Dahlia won, finally drawing her agiels and beating Denna to within an inch of her life—

But it didn’t matter. The damage was done: Dahlia never left Creatormas gifts again.

Saint Nick—hah. A myth for children.

Dahlia had no time for such nonsense.