The bolt of Tash strikes from above.

Prostrate yourselves before Rabadash, son of Jahangir Tisroc (may he live forever), the son of Ilemash Tisroc, the son of Illsombreh Tisroc, the son of Ardeeb Tisroc who was descended in a right line from the god Tash. I am the crown prince of Calormen, the sharpest of a thousand spears, a man upon whom the favor of the gods rests.

[inflammableprince-blog]

Chaniya's eyes widened when she noticed who she happened to be standing next to. "Tis a lovelyst evening. dost thou, not thinkest?" She cordially spoke before swiftly swept into a curtsy. If angering him could be avoided, she'd do whatever it took to ensure that the Prince was kept happy and contented.

His gaze flitted over to her before abruptly swerving away, as if the first notes of a pleasant perfume had turned rancid. Without even acknowledging her curtsy, he spoke in a dull, hushed tone, “You possess great effrontery to approach me in public. Do not commence to entertain the notion that my notice of you grants you permission to stand at the same level as me.”

But Rabadash’s desire to know what information she could have for him prompts him to offer an arm to her. “We shall talk in a more private place.” It is an order, not an invitation, and still his eyes are averted.

[the-tarnished-tarkheena-blog]

Her head of curls lowered at his harsh words. Their sting could be felt as if it were boiling water being poured carelessly over one’s skin. He affirmed what her brothers, Maalik, and harsh owners had spoken all along— she was hardly capable of thinking of herself as the prince’s equal- much less the equal to a jar of dirt.

 Chaniya’s face flushed in shame as he chided her and she bit her lip wishing she had not felt the need to be kind to the stubborn and cruel Calormen. 

"I amst n..," the humiliated Tarkheena started to protest, when he offers her his arm. Her smile vanished beneath a displeased frown. For even if it wasn’t noticeable to bystanders, she was trembling in fear.

"As….as thou wishes," she breathed in hushed compliance.

Her heart thundering  frantic Morris code-like warnings. The tarnished Tarkhenna did not lift her doleful gaze to meet his higher and mightier one, knowing she had not the right nor the place to do so. Squeezing her eyes shut she accepted his arm.  She had no other choice but to go with him, it was an order- disobeying this would most certainly mean death. 

[inflammableprince-blog]

His dark eyes gauged the crowds. If their departure from the crowded ballroom was swift and sudden enough, they would pass completely by the less observant gossips. Bending slightly, which presented the undistinguished Tarkheena's ear at even level with his lips, he whispered, "Did you arrive with anyone?" He needed to know if anyone would be looking for her.

"I doubt that you can be of any remarkable usefulness to me, but as I mentions previously you efforts may bring you some reward," he continued, leading her out to the hallway, dodging a food server, and heading for a dark corner. "Tonight you may yet redeem yourself and win incalculable glory for...your family," Rabadash concluded, unsure whether her flight from Calormen also left her at odds with loyalty to Tash and the Tisroc. Family, however, seemed it would strike a vibe with the woman.

"Make conversation with people, charm with a smile or however you choose to make use of your feminine wiles," he ordered dismissively, uncaring about trifles such as this. "Ask about the condition of the Isles, Narnia, their territories, anything. Probe for what they may know of the situation in Calormen. Report to me before the end of the night." He dropped her hand from his arm, dismissing her to her task, but with one final warning.

"If you fail, if you choose to slip away rather than report to me, you will find the choice perilous for the safety of you and those whom you cherish," he concluded with a slow, death-like smile.

[inflammableprince-blog]

Brother? Brother! [sniffles with tears in his eyes] How I missed you so, O my /younger/ brother whose image haunts my very dreams! [flings himself to Rabadash] ((I tried stopping him. I did.))

-tries to free himself, hissing under his breath- Do demonstrate the merest drop of shame, Irmingild, and cease humiliating yourself and me with your overwrought and maudlin display. -his frown would be more severe, for he did not expect to see his brother away from Tashbaan, but the public eye tempers the physical indicators of his rage- Release me.

[successoroftash-archive]

i[looking like a kicked puppy hurt, he covers stomach with both hands] I am currently in the care of Galma, and they are most hospitable. Have I… [refuses to be pulled] Have I truly…

[snaps out of it and hugs him] By the great gods above, O my brother! Am I not enough for you?

[inflammableprince-blog]

-swiftly, with mounting impatience- For a merest breath of a moment, O my brother, pretend that you have more political tact than you in reality possess and consider the ramifications to my "mortal container" and much else if our father mayheliveforever did not find the sight of me as pleasing to the eye as you do. If you are capable of such a feat then I will consider retracting my earlier statement about your... -gives up on dragging him- ...size.

[favoritelittlelyrics]

Alter Bridge, “Find the Real”

[kingedmundofnarnia-deactivated2]

Golden Age: Practice Duel || Edmund and Rabadash

[kingedmundofnarnia-deactivated2]

Edmund grinned at the sound of ripping fabric. There it was, Rabadash’s first hit. As the prince brought his curved sword to Edmund’s left side, the king couldn’t maneuver his rather bulkier blade in time to stop Rabadash’s sword from nipping into the fabric across his stomach, tearing the material but not landing a blow to the skin underneath.

Mentally groaning at the thought, Susan would kill him for ruining another shirt, he danced back, blocking the other blows as he moved, earning himself more space. A small part of his mind noted how dangerous such a belly cut would be and Edmund quickly pushed it aside; dwell on his own mortality later, sword fight now.

With the first cut out of the way for both parties, things could now get interesting. “Death isn’t the worst thing,” he said, talking between breaths as he altered his attack, moving into the offensive as he arched his sword around to aim for the Prince’s neck before curling down to cut at the left armpit. “And it’s most certainly not the end.”

The smile played on his lips as he kept talking; he found himself thinking about philosophy even now. “Those plants need the winter to make them stronger for the next season,” he continued, feinting to Rabadash’s right armpit as he sliced across the chest, actually directly his sword diagonally down, mimicking Rabadash’s attack from before. “If they didn’t die every season, they would become weak and frail. The winter’s sleep makes sure they come back even more beautiful than before.”

[inflammableprince-blog]

He smiled. What was he so pleased about? Was it a pity grin, a relief that the battle could be evenly matched? Or satisfaction that it was still he who landed the first blow? The corners of Rabadash's own smile locked into something that more resembled a grimace as he chased the other boy with confident slashes. He was being laughed at, wasn't he? This pale Northerner boy dared to have a joke at the Crown prince of Calormen?

"Surprisingly, we are in agreement," he declared as he defended his neck but failed to fully block the next blow. The blunted edge of the weapon knocked against his arm, doing no damage save to the Crown prince's mood. He pushed against the straight sword with the edge of his scimitar and took a step back to regroup. "Humiliation is worse." His scoff was disdainful and escaped before he could think to suppress it for decorum's sake. "Yes, if you mean the afterlife."

It was no underestimate to say that religion played a focal role in Rabadash's life. He even introduced himself as the descendant of Tash! But the young man couldn't help but look down on those who hobbled with the crutch of belief in deities. When he became Tisroc, it would be as a result of his own prowess, strength, charisma--

Rabadash twisted away from the strike directed toward his chest, using the momentum to aim for the side of the Northerner's waist. They're just stupid flowers, he internally sneered, but that would be hardly an eloquent thing to say. "Is that true for all things in the North? It seems detrimental to one's health to endure so many months of frost without the blessing of the sun."

[inflammableprince-blog]

headcanon: bears

The first time that Rabadash ever saw a real, live Talking Bear was at the Battle of Anvard. His initial thought was how he could make use of bears in the Calormene army, but he quickly decided that they would be too much of a hassle to tame. And when he was turned into a donkey, he didn't want to think about bears at all.

[inflammableprince-blog]

Brother? Brother! [sniffles with tears in his eyes] How I missed you so, O my /younger/ brother whose image haunts my very dreams! [flings himself to Rabadash] ((I tried stopping him. I did.))

-tries to free himself, hissing under his breath- Do demonstrate the merest drop of shame, Irmingild, and cease humiliating yourself and me with your overwrought and maudlin display. -his frown would be more severe, for he did not expect to see his brother away from Tashbaan, but the public eye tempers the physical indicators of his rage- Release me.

[successoroftash-archive]

[looks him over] Yes, you are unharmed if not unkempt and emaciated. Yet you are a prince, O brother whose strength soars over that of a lion’s! You are a prince whose presence disappeared without a notion of return. I have believed you were abducted. [yells louder than before] Worry has wrenched my heart from this mortal container! Woe, woe! [clings to him again] Return home, O brother!

[inflammableprince-blog]

And you seem to have enlarged about your midsection. -hisses- I shall wrench more than your heart from your mortal container if you continue to make a scene. -attempts to guide Irm to a more secluded corner of the room- Irmingild, by the gods-- -his eyes narrow; so that was his brother's ploy?- Does our father, may he live forever, share your sentiments about my disappearance? And if you shout once more I really will quit your presence with all haste.

[inflammableprince-blog]

I never watch you leave.

Modern!AU. Some language. Prompt from here.

"Leaving for a week to get absolutely no life-changing epiphanies."

Rab poked the index card, causing it to fall on its face. Didn't that just mean she was going to get wasted with unknown and unkempt guys and come crying to him before the end of three days? Not that he cared, but it was altogether too absurd for them to "share an apartment" if she was hardly ever around.

And she was supposed to pick up breakfast. He slouched into a chair and pulled out his phone. Did he even want company? Everyone he knew would probably be busy this early in the day. Ed would be studying. Rab wondered if the nerd had found a new flatmate yet. At least the nerd did the grocery shopping half the time.

But Rab wasn't lonely.

The baby-faced thirty year-old barged in around dinner time. Christ, just because he and Ava were close it wasn't a reason for Zek to get all chummy with him. Rab crossed his arms and frowned over the wine bottles being set up in the kitchen.

"She's not home, you know."

"I know." Another of those smiles that made one really question whether this guy was even male. "She came to me earlier asking about eye shadow colors and said that she'd be out tonight. I thought you might get lone--"

"Why were you so sure I wouldn't be out with her?"

"If it was you, she wouldn't come to me for advice..."

"Right," Rab muttered as he snatched a bottle, uncorked it, and took a swig. The baby-face was right though. She never put in so much effort just to see him...

"...She already knows what you like," Zek concluded with a grin.

"...Right."

His phone buzzed against his hip. On the other end was the muffled drone of loud bass.

"I'm bored out of my mind and I think this guy is a legit psycho." He could tell she had been crying. It hadn't even been 24 hours. The bastard must have been really pushy. "Come pick me up."

"You said a week," he answered coolly, walking out of the kitchen.

For a moment the sound of her breathing filled the pause. "Don't be petty, Rab." A smirk twitched on his lips. Did this count as a victory? Anyway, he didn't care.

"Fine." He stared down at the index card left on the dining table. "Buy me breakfast."

[kingedmundofnarnia-deactivated2]

To Life || Edmund and Rabadash

Nursing a glass of wine, Edmund watched the dance floor with cool, remote eyes. He had about enough of dancing, politicking, and conspiracies for one night, the contented buzz of alcohol spinning cheerfully in the back of his mind. Edmund still had control of his senses, most certainly, but a notable event made his stomach cramp uncomfortably every time he thought of it. Or rather two events.

And then the source of the events passed by, perhaps oblivious to the fact that Edmund had even been standing there. Stretching out a hand to stop the fellow, he kept his voice level and measured, the light diplomat’s grin on his face, as if talking to a passing acquaintance.

“Prince Rabadash,” he said, a noted delight in his voice at the decrease in the man’s title. “I’ve noticed you kept yourself quite busy at the ball tonight,” he continued, words genial but gaze anything but.

[inflammableprince-blog]

His skin, even under the layers of his clothes, crawled at the contact with his shoulder. He hated that even on the Isles, so far removed from accursed Narnian soil, physical contact could be so casually initiated. As Rabadash turned to appraise the other person, he narrowly suppressed the urge to tighten his eyes. Of course, if it was King Edmund, the remotest form of contact was undesirable.

The smile that rose slowly to his face matched the Northerner's to the precise angle. "Let it not be doubted that the forming of acquaintances is always an enjoyable feat, for one may never predict when such connections may prove beneficial in the future." As he spoke in lengthy circumlocution, Rabadash's thoughts were fixed vehemently on Edmund's greeting. Irmingild's attendance at the ball had not been within his calculations, and it must have been through his older brother's introductions that Edmund had discovered the... unforseen exchange of titles.

But his face remained pleasant, if not a little reserved, as he lifted the half-untouched glass of wine in his left hand. "Will you have a drink?"

[inflammableprince-blog]

HD Monday

Anything and everything.

[inflammableprince-blog]

Say, you a royal? You look more capable than some of these Narnian idiots.

-eyes narrow at casual greeting- I do not believe we have been introduced. I am indeed the Cr--the prince of the illustrious and ever-expansive Calormen Empire, Rabadash, son of Jahangir Tisroc (may he live forever), the son of Ilemash Tisroc, the son of Illsombreh Tisroc, the son of Ardeeb Tisroc who was descended in a right line from the god Tash. -smirks- So I must agree that I am "more capable" than any Narnian imbecile.

[inflammableprince-blog]

"Rabadash?" Shar choked on her punch. "Tell me prince of Calormen, does the bolt of Tash still fall from above?"

He shifted his head to avoid the droplets spewed from her direction, eyes narrowing at the casual manner in which the girl addressed him. “You should have no doubts about the matter. The inexorable Tash is ever constant in his judgment and shall punish mortal man when they fail to submit to his omnipotent being.”

[shar-of-archenland]

"Naturally, I would have no such proof that Tash should be exalted after the unprecedented and rather miserable display in Archenland. If anything, I would conclude that Tash could be hung up, or at the very least paraded through the streets with a carrot for bait," she cordially contested. 

"All joking aside, are you recovered from your humiliation?" Shar returned jovially, trying not to laugh or make Rabadash excessively angry. 

inflammableprince

[inflammableprince-blog]

How his temples throbbed. Did he really have to waste breath bandying words with this uncouth, improper Northerner? But to retreat was to concede the discussion.

The line of his mouth thinned. “If you were but a man, I would demand that you pay for your words with your blade, as I would not stand and allow you to assault my dignity. As you are a woman, I have enough honor to overlook your impudent outburst.” He turned away abruptly.

[inflammableprince-blog]

{for the ball}Laughing genuinely at a joke a guest had just told her, Susan turned and felt her stomach drop. No, it couldn't be... Not here. Not now. Biting her lip, she excused herself and looked for her brother. But she had to pass him first.

He didn’t mean to get so close. As soon as he caught a glimpse of the gold flowers of her diadem he knew he had to avoid her above all else. But the movements of the crowd, treacherous like snake currents in the sand, had led him here.

He didn’t mean to stop. But when she turned, he did. There was not enough room between them for a proper bow, so he dipped his head and wondered if she would ask him to move aside.

He didn’t mean to stare.

[darksoulslovethemoon-blog]

In the most polite way she could, Susan withdrew her hand from his. Scared of him she may be, but she was still a Queen. She had to be gracious and kind. She needed to be the Gentle.

Aslan told Susan once she had listened to fear. Her brothers frequently told her to have courage. This could be her chance to prove to everyone that even ones with a tender heart could be valiant.

“Yes, it is a wonderful little party.” Susan answered calmly. “It is not quite one of my balls, but it is marvelous nevertheless.”

“I’m sorry, good sir. But it has grown rather cold. If I go outside, I might take a chill.” She told him honestly, though hoping it would get him to let her alone.

[kingedmundofnarnia-deactivated2]

Edmund’s senses were on high alert, and after his dance with his elder sister, he had lost sight of her in the swirl of dancers. Then across the floor, there she was with none other but the now prince of the Calormen Empire. Edging quickly through the crowd, snaking through the dancers waltzing around the floor, he made his way to the other side of the room in record time.

Clearing his throat as he approached, he offered the pair his most gracious, diplomatic smile, catching the end of their conversation. “Yes, it has been a wonderful evening,” he said, injecting himself into the conversation. “Our hosts have surely surpassed themselves this evening.”

"And it is good to see you again, Prince Rabadash,” he continued, offering his arm for his sister to take, turning to her in the same motion. “We do need to be considerate of your health, dear sister. Only think of how we would worry our hosts if you took ill.”

[inflammableprince-blog]

But how it irked to see her arm tucked meekly in her brother’s grip, like a cat seeing the mouse slip right under his nose. Oh well. It was not in his character to stoop to the mouse hole.

"King Edmund," Rabadash acknowledged with a nod and a smile that betrayed none of the bile in his throat at the pronunciation of such a title. He leveled onto Susan an unblinking gaze of disdain, haughtiness, possessiveness, all in a moment replaced by a cordial smile and another bow. He hoped that she would be shaken by it, that she would shiver in fear with the recollection of it and remember that for all her gentleness she had one sworn enemy.

[inflammableprince-blog]

Guarded Intentions || Lucy and Rabadash

[inflammableprince-blog]

His smile matched her politeness. “Ah, but I do believe they are playing a waltz, which is assuredly Northern,” he commented evenly with the faintest sardonic edge as the song began. It was perfectly timed, for Rabadash had only made an effort to learn the waltz, believing that he would appear at his most regal and dignified during this dance. He placed a hand behind Queen Lucy’s left shoulder blade and slanted his eye along her bared arm. She had grown bolder in her choice of outfit, but then again she had grown older.

“How do you fare? I trust the voyage to the Seven Isles was without incident?” He stepped to the side and back in time to the music, concentrating on the move before continuing, “Recent events in Narnia”—here he alluded to the recent war with the Ice Witch—”must have taxed Your Majesty’s gentle heart.”

[unrelentinglioness-archive]

She nodded and smiled. “Of course,” she said simply and placed both her hands on Rabadash’s nape, but that caused her to feel very uncomfortable, as if she was doing something terribly wrong. While she was trying to think in a way to escape that and apologize for leaving him in the middle of a dance, he spoke. 

The Queen raised her eyebrows in surprise. She would have never imagined that the Calormene prince would have asked her something sweet, like how was she feeling and how was her voyage. People in Narnia were used to do that, but not all Calormenes, especially him. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad afterall? Lucy, of course, was the type of person who always believed that there was good in everyone.

"Thank you for your concerns, prince Rabadash, but I do feel fine. It was not the first war I’ve seen and I’m afraid it will not be the last. I’ve grown wiser and lately, I am always prepared," Lucy looked at his dark eyes and her lips barely moved to show him a smile.

[nrpminion]

lucy-valiant-queen inflammableprince

Palm against the palm of his friend, two boys were engaged in a makeshift dance that allowed them to turn every other minute. They were watching as intently as they were being watched. Their lips barely moved, only to be heard if one would strain their ears.

"How did you arrive?"

"With my family. Do you think me insane? No one dares walk outside by themselves anymore."

"I, too, arrived with my mother and sister."

One boy clicked his tongue. “This is absurd! We are left vulnerable and helpless!”

"Quiet!"

With shifty, shaking gazes, they spun away.

[inflammableprince-blog]

She had grown wiser. He suppressed his natural impulse to smirk at her declaration. If that was the case, and yet she was here with her arms around his neck, then he had more than ample reason to question that wisdom. He allowed himself a brief chuckle at her expense, but concealing all malice in an amiable tilt of his head.

"I suppose you must be accustomed to the weather, as you reside by the sea, though I find it too humid to be truly pleasant." His eyes drifted over the top of her hair, resting on a pair of boys dancing together. Rabadash frowned at the sight and glanced without interest back at Lucy. So many freckles.

"Will you stay long at the Isles?" His volume plummeted and he leaned close enough that their temples nearly touched. Was he giving her a hint or a warning? He didn't care to decipher it for himself.

"The country appears uneasy...a little too much to handle even for one as prepared as you are."

[aseaofquotes]

Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle

[danadelions]

[inflammableprince-blog]

From Rab to Irm:

NO. My nose does NOT want to be booped.

[inflammableprince-blog]

Brother? Brother! [sniffles with tears in his eyes] How I missed you so, O my /younger/ brother whose image haunts my very dreams! [flings himself to Rabadash] ((I tried stopping him. I did.))

-tries to free himself, hissing under his breath- Do demonstrate the merest drop of shame, Irmingild, and cease humiliating yourself and me with your overwrought and maudlin display. -his frown would be more severe, for he did not expect to see his brother away from Tashbaan, but the public eye tempers the physical indicators of his rage- Release me.

[successoroftash-archive]

[clings as long as he can until he staggers back] O my brother! You are alive! [dramatically moves his arms so his bracelets can hit one another as he buries his face in his palms] How the nightmares plagued me so. The sun appears dark in my eyes just thinking about them. I have seen you devoured by ‘ifrits, sold as a slave in lands unknown, and—one such nightmare proclaimed you a EUNUCH!

[doesn’t notice the stares they’re getting and grabs Rabadash by the cheeks] Are you fed well? Did these white barbarians torture you? How fare you, O brother of mine?  

[inflammableprince-blog]

-wonders if he can walk away while Irm’s face is covered- Think you of me an utter imbecile who cannot lift a finger in self-defense? -his furrowed brow sharpens- By all the gods, brother, do consider your surroundings and refrain from shouting.

-smacks Irm’s hands away- Do I have the sickly countenance of a starved man? Are there any marks of disfigurement on my body? Rather than wasting your breath with pointless inanity, do demonstrate that you possess the slightest ability of observation.

[inflammableprince-blog]

"Rabadash?" Shar choked on her punch. "Tell me prince of Calormen, does the bolt of Tash still fall from above?"

He shifted his head to avoid the droplets spewed from her direction, eyes narrowing at the casual manner in which the girl addressed him. “You should have no doubts about the matter. The inexorable Tash is ever constant in his judgment and shall punish mortal man when they fail to submit to his omnipotent being.”