Morning’s Porridge, Whistlecakes, The Pauper’s Dream, The Virgin’s Dream, Fig Sweets
Gilfaethwy had once assured him, with the bright-eyed sincerity of unshaken faith, that his people’s Goddess amply rewarded honest men.
Lately, Aenfrith was almost inclined to believe him. Because if there was any justice in the world, someone needed to reward honest men for going to all the trouble, and nothing mortal had ever bothered to do so.
The only thing that earned him so much as a pat on the head from his Imperial masters were as many not-quite-lies as he could spin right along the knife-edge of falling over into falsehood. Gilfaethwy believed in him so purely and unreservedly that he couldn’t bring himself to wound him with the crueler truths. His twin Gwion wouldn’t trust anyone who was bedding his brother even if the heavens opened up and buried them in an avalanche of holy white rose petals. Eathlwine took everything, true or false, with the same dry skepticism.
By the end of the summer, Gwion was furious at the entire world. It was bad enough that they were war-captives — all right, to be fair, it was pretty much worst of all that they were war-captives, because all the rest of the trouble stemmed from that. But what frustrated him most of all lately was his brother.
They’d always been identical. He’d thought they always would be identical — somehow he’d never thought about the fact that they were going to war, that one of them could have been scarred. But neither of them had been, and anyway, scarring wasn’t much of a problem. A scar would have been easier to hide — or to fake.
by Delyth Penrose (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/115927.html) Cast list and name pronunciations at the guide post. — “What a magnificent specimen,” Livia Vitella said, looking at the naked barbarian as she might a particularly spirited horse. Her husband liked to jest that such things came with marrying into a noted equestrian family. Aenfrith thought it simply further […]
by Delyth Penrose (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/113038.html) On the night they’d met, a decade ago, when Rhys had still been a child shaky with a summer fever and all his meager strength was focused on not passing out in his layers of velvets and silks, he had somehow misunderstood the ceremony of fealty to the heir. He’d […]