Karaon is a carefree and frighteningly clever child; the secret lovechild of princess Isokell ZanTaoyaka and the fallen tyrant, Rannon.
Conceived while the princess was in disguise to seduce the man she loved, her realization that she was pregnant sent her sweet illusion of happiness brutally crumbling. Yearning for some small proof of the love she had known to live on, she bore the child in secret. He was given up to a foster mother in Bahari upon his birth, never to know who his real mother was. Continue reading “Karaon ZanTaoyaka”
Fanfiction Second Born by Lawenta Characters:Rannon, Isokell, Karaon, Meimere Summary: Following the birth of his daughter, Rannon reflects on the bewildering joy and dread of having his own family. For art and other works inspired by this, click here.
Isokell with a newborn in her arms was much quieter than her usual unbreakable self. Wrapped around the small bundle of new life, nose buried in a tuft of still-wet hair.
He wondered if the little one smelled the same as Karaon had.
He resisted the urge to clear his throat. Karaon, under the hand settled on his shoulder, strained forward in barely contained curiosity.
Original Written Work Characters:Keelavata, Rannon, Karaon, Summary: Keela meets Rannon’s carefree son for the first time, and can’t help but be curious. For art and other works inspired by this, click here.
She came across the boy in the palace gardens below the council chamber, sitting on a bench with his face turned towards the flowering trees above, kicking his feet. His face was open and he was smiling, as though nothing could possibly make him more content in this world than just sitting in the sun and listening to the birds on the breeze.
Curious in spite of herself, she walked closer, and he turned his smile on her.
”You must be Karaon,” she stated, as though there could possibly be any doubt about his identity. A younger version of a face she hated, those same grey eyes, but softer, warmer. He nodded and stood, performing a rather clumsy, unpracticed version of a nobleman’s bow.
Isokell sat cross-legged on the soft pillow and let her fingers caress the velvet-smooth surface of the paper in her hand. The feel of the coarser ink against the smooth surface was tangible to her sensitive fingertips and the meaning of the words was clear to her.
Who ever said you needed eyes to read..?
A mild summer breeze from the sea found its way into the little garden confined between the walls, and threatened to tear the thin rice papers from her hand, and she held them close until it had passed. The smell of sea and the sun-warm flowers of the garden followed in its wake; soon it would be too hot to stay outside during the midday hours, and she treasured the last exquisite days of spring.