ayatai

[ayatai]

I don't know how it would get said, or what would lead up to Alexander saying it, but. Here's a moment from a fic I probably won't ever write:

"I- it's just. I can't stand it, sometimes." He said.

"Stand what?"

"I can't stand how everyone looks at me expecting to see a different Alexander. It's like they've built me up in my absence to be some mythical figure who could do no wrong. And then there's me, who managed to fall up stairs in front of those dignitaries from Tamir." He took a deep, shaking? Controlled? Breath and continued. "And the worst of it is? Sometimes it feels like theres a third twin. There's you. Theres the Alexander that should have been that lives in everyone's minds. And then there's me. The mess you guys are stuck with anyway."

[ayatai]

Comfy-vember 2024 is now up in chronological order! Starts at Ch 16.

[ayatai]

Graham has found a dusty door in one of Daventry Castle’s basements (disused dungeon?). It is locked, and they have no key. The guards are defensive and take charge. Do they get in and what’s behind it, or are they forced to give up and it remains a mystery?

I'm so so so sorry it took forever and a half, I was just debating how the story should go and then got busy and-- well, now I had time. And a story.

So here ya go! ---

“Leave it to you to find something that was not meant to be found.” Number One grumbled, standing with his arms crossed as Graham kneeled in front of the dusty door attempting (and failing) to pick at the lock.

“If it wasn’t meant to be found, it should have been turned into a wall.” Graham pointed out.

“It was hidden behind one. AND a tapestry.” 

“Then whoever bricked up the wall did a poor job.”

“Wasn’t our fault the budget was abysmal during the Missing Treasure Fiasco.” Number One muttered just below enough so none of the other guards could hear, but Graham heard clearly.

“Say, why was it bricked up in the first place?” Number Two asked, leaning on the adjacent wall as Graham continued to pick at it. “I don’t recall that being a thing.”

“It was something spoken exclusively between the late King Edward, Gideon, and myself.”

“Gideon?” Graham looked up.

“Our original captain before Ken took over.” Number Two explained.

“Number Two!” Number One snapped at him. “On duty–”

“Names aren’t to be used, yeah yeah, I know.”

“I can see your blasted eye roll from here.”

“Can you see this too?” A pause. “On second thought, nevermind, the helmet tastes terrible.”

“Disgusting.” Number One stated.

Graham sighed and lowered the lockpick tool. It looked so much easier when Ginger or Anisette did it, maybe it was the movement of his wrist?

“Giving up?” Number Two asked.

“Never.” Graham stood up, pocketing away the kit and placing his hands on his hips. “Just… are you sure there’s no key?”

“Positive!” Kyle shouted from down the hall as he came running down the hallway with Larry stacked on top. “We just examined every nook and cranny and found nothing.”

“Did Number Three find anything?” Number Two asked.

“Also nothing, but she said she wanted to give it one more go with Number Sixty Four in regards to the whereabouts of all the keys.” Kyle said. “So until then, we got nothing.”

“Sorry, Majesty.” Larry apologized.

“No need to apologize. I appreciate it, thank you.” Graham said before turning his attention to Number One. “What was this place before, anyways? I don’t recall seeing it on the castle plan when I first came to rule.”

All their attention went to Number One who was standing back with his arms crossed, looking to be anywhere but here before sighing and leaning his head back to exhale through his nose. 

“It used to be part of the dungeons.” He answered. “Before King Edward’s time, this castle had excess dungeons for enemies… though stars help me, I wouldn’t constitute goblins or faeries as enemies so long as you don’t step on their turf. Maybe the average thief or assassin, but they’re so far and few in between one could arguably say they’re not even worth a thought.” 

“Goblins aren’t to be taken lightly…” Graham rubbed his arm from the last encounter he had with one of them tossing their brethren at him like a common snowball.

“But when King Edward realized that it wasn’t making Daventry much allies, he had it ordered that these dungeons be transformed into storage, as you can plainly see by the one-too-many-boxes that I’m dying to be rid of but life insists some other trivial matter takes top priority.” Number One finished. “Such as that blasted door.”

“So this door is another dungeon?” Graham pressed.

Number One paused and ‘hmm’ just quietly enough in contemplation. 

“Wait, is it?” Kyle spoke up, shocked.

“Is this for the more intense criminals? Traitors of Daventry?” Larry added.

“Clearly it’s bad enough if it was sealed behind a wall and a tapestry… say, lad, how’d you come across this place, anyways?” Number Two asked.

“I was just strolling about, trying to get a hang of the castle’s layout when I saw the door that led in here… and then I heard a whistling sound and I followed it to here.” Graham explained. 

“And you’ve been trying to open it since?” Larry asked.

He pulled out the lockpick kit and showed them. “With nothing but failure to show for it.”

“Shame, was really looking forward to know what was behind that door.” Kyle sighed.

“I didn’t think I found something so cryptic. W-what is behind that door, Number One?” Graham looked at the captain who had remained frighteningly quiet, still humming under his helmet.

“Ken?” Number Two pressed. He looked away when Number One gave him a sharp stare. “Sorry, Number One.”

“Actually… I’m not quite sure.” He confessed. “I only came to the conversation as they were discussing sealing it up, but I never knew what it was.”

“So, aren’t you just a little bit curious?” Number Two asked, going over and draping an arm around him. “You are the head of the Royal Guard and the lad here is our king and is oh so curious what’s behind that door.”

“You just want to know what’s there.” Number One bluntly stated.

“Don’t you?” Graham asked, getting a bark of a laugh from the second in command. 

“Sorry, sir, but we won’t be able to go back to our usual work until we figure out what’s behind the door.” Kyle said.

“And that’s two less guards that can patrol considering we’re inseparable.” Larry added.

“We don’t have the key and none of us are exactly proficient with breaking and entering.” Number One said. “And if we slam the door down, who knows what sort of damage it could do.”

“We could always take it off the hinges.” Number Three’s voice rang through as she walked over to them. “Or is it too rusted?”

“Going to assume rusted…” Graham admitted, looking now at the hingest. “But maybe a good strike would make it crumble. I could– huh?”

He felt Larry and Kyle pulling him to the side and saw Number One give a nod. 

“You won’t be touching that door anymore, Your Majesty.” Number One stated. 

“But I want to see what’s behind the door!” Graham pouted. 

“Who said we won’t?” Number One looked at him. “No offense, Pockets, but with your luck, the door could potentially fall on you much like last week’s avalanche.” 

He recalled the time Number One caught him trapped under a pile of addendums. It was one of those memories where his face burned so hot as Number One fell to his knees and was wheezing with tears staining his face. His cheeks turned red slightly. 

“Exactly.” He drew out his sword. “Number Two, Number Three, please stand ready to catch the door.”

“Sir!” The two saluted and walked into position.

Number One raised the hilt of the sword and gave a solid whack to the rusted hinges, startling himself as it collapsed just as Number Three said it would. 

“One down!” Number Three cheered.

“Two to go!” Number Two cheered as well.

“Go Number One!” Graham pumped his fists.

“It’s just a rusted door hinge.” Number One muttered. “Hardly anything to cheer about.”

He whacked at the other two hinges and just like the first one, they collapsed as though it were nothing. The door teetered back and forth but couldn’t fall in either direction as both Number Two and Number Three caught it and carefully moved it to the side, revealing the inside of the room to the six of them. 

Graham took a step before getting, once more, harshly yanked back by Kyle and Larry as Number One stepped in first.

“Hey, wait a second, I was the one who found it, why don’t I get a first look?!” Graham called out.

“You’re the King.” All the Royal Guards reminded him in a unison that was done one too many times.

“Right. That.” Graham’s ears burned.

Number One shook his head and stepped inside, his sword still drawn just in case. As he took a look, he sheathed his weapon and placed his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed underneath his helmet. “It’s safe for Pockets.”

Quickly in a blur of red and blue, Graham rushed in and looked around trying to take in the sight. There was a window with a broken glass, allowing undoubtedly the wind to whistle for his attention. Surrounded were barrels and barrels of rolled up parchments, tapestries that had to deal with decades of the elements but still told its story, treasure chests stacked on top of one another like a makeshift mountain.

It looked, frankly, like another one of those storages just outside.

Graham’s shoulders sagged, disappointment read loud and clear as he let out a sigh.

“Well.” Larry spoke up, having unstacked off of Kyle so that the two could look at the room. “This is frankly disappointing.”

“I’m a bit sad, if I’m being quite honest.” Kyle frowned.

“I thought it would be gold.” Number Two sighed. 

“Why would they seal up gold?” Number Three stared at him. “That makes no sense.”

“Unless it was cursed.” He countered. “Everyone seals up cursed gold.”

“But why—”

“Like pirates!” Kyle joked.

She paused and quietly agreed. 

Graham looked around as the guards got into a conversation about a PIrate King of Daventry and pulled one of the scrolls from the barrel, making sure to handle it with absolute care in case it would disintegrate in his hands. He tilted his head and rolled it back up, pulling another one and unfurled that as well as he pulled it closer to read.

Number One noticed his sudden change in expression and walked over, his hand on the hilt of the blade as he tapped Graham’s shoulder.

“Something about it caught your eye?” Number One asked.

To his surprise, Graham turned to look at him with stars in his eyes and a smile that shined brighter than any gold. 

“These are maps to all the treasures in Daventry.” Graham said. 

“We’re not short on gold, sire–”

“No. Not treasure as in gold.” Graham handed the parchment to Number One. “Treasures as in all the hidden legends of Daventry. Not just the floating island.”

“They could belong to faes or goblins.” Number One warned, but the excitement of a new discovery of his homeland was bubbling. 

“We’re not gonna conquer, but we can befriend. Make allies.” Graham explained. “You said King Edward tried to make peace once with the faeries, elves, and such?”

“With poor success, yes.”

Graham tapped at it. “We can do it. We can go and find them, ask for an audience and build a strong relationship. Plus… wouldn’t it be grand to see what more stories Daventry has to offer?”

Number One stared at the parchment and the various barrels, realizing that there was much to Daventry that was left to be properly explored. He looked at Graham with that excited and welcoming smile of his… he rolled it up and sighed.

“If there is anyone that could make an audience with them… it’d be you, Pockets.”

“Well then, lets get to work!”

[ayatai]

daventry's kinda cold today

[ayatai]

No2 helping Valanice garden (of course no2 is the plant guy, how could I ever think differently for any moment of time).

You thought I wouldn't do this prompt?

Wrong. Horribly wrong.

---

It had been a while since Number Two had company in the garden. 

The last time he tended to the flowers with someone that was not a Royal Guard was during the late King Edward’s reign, specifically with the late Queen. Admittedly, since her passing, he found it difficult to go back into the garden, to mend the vines and water the vegetation without hearing her gentle humming or humorous conversation. But after some time had passed, the garden had become unruly that Number One had even suggested getting another guard to treat it if it was that difficult for his second in command.

Number Two, of course, declined the offer and tended to it himself. He got better with each day at being alone in the garden, but that small flicker of sadness was always there. Always missing that company.

Until now. 

Number Two stood and kept watch over her. Not only because Number One and Graham were busy dealing with a villager going on about three headed something or another, but also because, by all unofficial technicality, the garden was his jurisdiction. Even Number One knew better than to question him when it came to that. 

What Graham was to Daventry, Number Two was the garden.

But humming a soft melody, Valanice sat on her knees as she plucked out the weed from the garden, her gardening gloves covered with dirt and a small smudge of mud wiped on her cheek from where she tried to rub an itch away.

A breather, was what Number One said. Something about learning the ways of yet another new location was overwhelming the new Queen and she needed a breather… and wasn’t that just the thing, he thought. 

He continued watching her go about, his hand resting on the hilt of the blade and lightly tapping at it when Valanice turned around and looked his way.

“How are you feeling, Number…” she paused, then frowned. 

“Two.” He answered for her, a smirk hidden underneath the helmet. “The ‘Syrup Reeking Guard’ as Number Three eloquently said once.”

“I was trying really hard to remember the number and not the smell.” She smiled sheepishly. 

“Heh, no worries or offense, Your Majesty.” He chuckled. “And I’m fine. How about yourself, Your Majesty?” 

She looked at the garden briefly and then back to Number Two. “The fresh air does help immensely. Surely, you would also benefit from taking it in as well.”

Number Two shook his head. “‘Fraid I can’t, Your Majesty. I have a strict order to keep you safe. So you’ll have to enjoy the fresh air for both of us.”

“But it’s lonely.” Valanice frowned. 

“Erm… lonely?” He asked, feeling for once caught off guard.

She nodded. “That’s what the flowers are saying. I’m sure I’m pleasant enough company, but they’re telling me it’s lonely to enjoy something by oneself.”

“A… are you part faery, Your Majesty?” Number slipped, quickly standing upright and proper and clearing his throat. “Erm… s-sorry, didn’t mean to step out of line, Your Majesty.”

Valanice, however, smirked. 

“No.” She answered. “But I am very observant. And I was told that this is, technically, your garden that I’m tending to.”

“Well, technically, it was the late Queen’s. So by all means, it is now yours.” He corrected her. “I was just a temporary in-between caretaker.”

“And look how it blossomed.” Valanice looked around the garden. “They’re thriving and wondrous. I’m just here pulling weed.”

“It’s still something.” He said. “And you clearly have a touch for it and not just uprooting it like Number One once tried.”

“That bad?” She asked.

“A true tragedy… those hydrangeas never saw what was coming.”

Valanice chuckled and turned around properly, giving him a soft smile. “I could use some insight if I were to take care of the garden. And these little darlings are whispering nothing but praises for you.”

“You’re too kind, Your Majesty.” Number Two blushed slightly.

“I’m just being honest.” She countered. “Just look around you. Your work speaks for you.”

Number Two looked around, watching how some of the wisteria blossomed from the make-shift canopy he and the late Queen built, how the rose bushes were so perfectly trimmed and down-right plump… how the gentle occasional whiff of lavender tickled his nose even from underneath his helmet.

Valanice held out her hand. “Join me, please?”

He contemplated, tapping his finger against the hilt of the blade. Number Two sighed and walked closer, letting a startled gasp out when she took his hand and made him kneel. 

“You might see better without the helmet.” Valanice said.

“Number One will kill me.”

“Queen’s Orders.”

Number Two looked at her surprised as she gave a wink.

He was ordered to protect the Queen, and when he was given an order, Number Two stayed close to the book (to the shock of everyone). But the Queen was giving him a new order… a request, really. 

Who was he to deny the Crown?

Chuckling, he took off his helmet and put it to the side, taking in a deep breath of Daventry’s Spring. 

“You’re right, Your Majesty… the fresh air does help.” Number Two smiled. 

“I know.” Valanice smiled back. “So tell me of the hydrangea tragedy. I would not be able to forgive myself if I caused an accidental repeat.”

“You seem to know the garden well enough to pull the weeds though.” He pointed out.

“Yes, but that’s because they’re not close to the flowers.” She pointed to the weeds further into the bushes. “My knowledge is… tragically limited.”

He stared at her and then the garden and took another breath. “Right, well, it’s not that complex once you begin to recognize which is which… but after a few pulls, you’ll catch on quickly, Your Majesty.”

Number Two leaned forward into the bushes, pulling one of the weeds out and showing it to Valanice. “Take this one for example, it looks nice, but it’ll take the nutrients away from the flowers it’s mixing in with. So when you pull the weed, be sure to pat back the dirt to the flowers’ roots and water it… sort of a bandage.”

“Oh, I see.” Valanice looked at the weed she had pulled and frowned. “I haven’t been doing that, have I?”

“No.” He answered, though his attempt to suppress a smirk was failing him now that his helmet was off.

Valanice giggled and moved to place back the dirt, humming as she went. “I made a decision.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Number Two tilted his head.

“Going forward, everytime I come to the garden, I would like your protection. As would all of these florals from me.” Valanice looked at him. “If that is alright.”

“I go by what the Crown orders me, Your Majesty. So if you request my protection, I only need your word.” Number Two said.

“Then it’s settled.” She clasped her hand. “You are to tend the garden with me and teach me the proper etiquette of gardening.”

“That’s a new addition.”

“Queen’s Orders.”

“Such abuse of power.” He laughed, sagging his shoulder as Valanice laughed.

[ayatai]

In Dreams

Comfort-vember Day 30 Prompt: In Dreams

Rosella picked up another flower from the pile beside her and deftly weaved into onto the framework on her lap. She and Lila, the cook’s daughter, were busy making to wreaths to help decorate for the festival the next day.

“Did Captain Tamart like our cakes?” Lila asked.

“He did! I promised him we’d make him more before he leaves again. What’s it like having a brother?”

Lila scrunched up her face as she thought. “Annoying. He can be fun sometimes, and I wouldn’t change it for the world, but also annoying. Rosella, why are you so sure he’ll find him this time?”

“I had a dream.”

Lila, who at ten years old was two years older than Rosella, paused, threading her current flower. “A dream? But those aren’t… real.”

“This one was. I’ve never had one like it.” She frowned. “I don’t quite understand some of it… there was snow and fire and a big lightning storm all mixed together, but he came walking through it all so he could finally be home. And it was real,” Rosella finished stubbornly. She finished her wreath and set it aside. “Mama said we could help with the banners next.”

Lila shook her head. “I’m supposed to be helping Da in the kitchens; two more flowers on this one and then I should head back. Rosella, just… try not to get your hopes up too much, ok?”

“I’ll try,” Rosella said, though mostly so her friend wouldn’t worry too much. They would see.

[ayatai]

Gift

Comfort-vember Day 29 Prompt: Birthday gift

Alexander followed Graham into his room, curious. The family had exchanged almost all the gifts for the twins’ nineteenth birthday already at dinner, but Graham had said his gift for Alexander was too large and was being delivered to his room.

A large white sheet covered something at the end of Alexander’s bed; whatever it was, it had definitely not been there when he’d left that morning. He set his other presents on his desk (from Valanice, a new book; from Rosella, a set of panpipes she’d made herself).

“Whenever you’re ready,” Graham encouraged. He was clearly excited for the surprise to be revealed.

Alexander pulled off the sheet to reveal an old storage chest. Useful, certainly; but he was perplexed why Graham would be so excited about it. “Thanks, Dad. I guess I have collected quite a few more things -“

“Look at the side,” Graham said. “Yours, not mine.”

Alexander kneeled down beside it to get a better look. It looked to be of good quality, but dented and scratched in quite a few places. Including a roughly carved ‘G’.

He glanced back up at his father. “For Graham?”

Graham nodded. “It was mine when I was a kid, and my father’s before that. He caught me at it before I got to the ‘r’.”

Alexander opened the lid. For all its age, it opened smoothly, without a sound; it had been well maintained. The inside was empty, ready for its new owner to decide what to put in it.

“I always intended for it to go to you.”

He didn’t say it, but Alexander understood the unspoken sentiment. Even when they’d thought him dead, they’d kept it waiting and ready for him; a hope never completely extinguished.

“I love it. Thanks for saving it for me.”

Later than night, after Graham had gone, Alexander traced the letter G, considering. He wondered how Graham would feel about another letter under it; a letter A.

[ayatai]

Hot Chocolate

Comfort-vember 2024 Day 27 Prompt: Hot Chocolate

Alexander settled into a chair by the fire in his parents’ sitting room. He’d left dinner early to change into a thicker shirt; a chill had settled into his bones and he couldn’t get quite warm enough. He expected the rest of his family would enter any moment; Graham wanted to teach Alexander to play some card games after hearing he’d never played before. It was the latest of several activities he’d come up with for the family to do together in the short few weeks since Alexander had returned home.

Alexander had nearly dozed off when his mother entered and pulled a box from a cupboard.

“Your father and sister will be here in a few minutes; they went to the kitchens to make hot chocolate,” she explained as she set the box down and sat across the table from him.

Still half-asleep, he murmured, “Hot chocolate does sound good.”

She paused, pulling out cards from the box and looked instead at him. “You sound tired. Would you rather head off to bed?” She didn’t mention it, but they both knew his nightmares often left him exhausted.

“No, I’m fine. Dad was so excited to play, I can stay up a bit longer.”

“Mm. If you’re sure. Though… you look pale, are you feeling alright?”

“Just tired. And cold.” His throat had been hurting since before dinner, but the hot chocolate would probably help. No need to put off the game for that.

Valanice rose and moved around the table, sitting instead in the chair right next to his. She held up a hand. “Can I feel?”

Confused, Alexander said, “Um, sure?”

He froze as she rested her hand lightly on his forehead. Now he was even more bewildered.

“Oh, you’re burning- “ She stopped as the door swung open again.

“-your winning streak this time, I just know it,” Graham said as he entered, Rosella following behind him. They held trays laden with mugs and bowls of popcorn and cookies.

“Graham,” said Valanice, getting his attention. To Alexander, she continued, “We can play another night when you’re feeling better. You need rest.”

Graham looked sharply at his wife as Rosella set her tray down and said, “Alex, you’re sick?”

Alexander looked from one concerned face to another. “Not terribly. I can still play.”

Shaking his head, Graham responded, “No need to worry about the game. Your mother’s right.”

Alexander nodded, relieved, though he tried not to show it. Bed sounded better and better.

The next twenty minutes were a blur of changing clothes again, offers of tea and blankets and medicine, and being asked what seemed a dozen times if he needed anything else. But at last, he was in bed and left alone to get the much-needed sleep. As he drifted off, it occurred to him that with all the commotion, he never had gotten to drink that hot chocolate.

Tomorrow, perhaps. For now, sleep.

[ayatai]

Ripples

Comfort-vember Day 27 Prompt: Beach/waves

Alexander threw a pebble into the pond, watching the ripples expand outward. He waited until they’d disappeared before picking up another one to throw.

He paused as he heard footsteps approaching. Ren.

“Why am I not surprised you managed to find me?”

“Your parents and sister are very worried about you,” Ren hedged as he sat down beside Alexander, their backs resting against a fallen tree on the shoreline.

“So they had me followed,” Alexander translated. He threw the pebble in. “When are they not?”

“Isn’t it a good thing, having people who worry about you?”

After a moment, Alexander grudgingly conceded. “Point taken.”

They sat for a minute in silence, Alexander collecting the rest of pebbles within arm’s reach.

He finished piling them and broke the quiet first. “It was him, Ren.”

“Your father told me. But as far as I understand it… still as a cat, yes?”

Alexander shuddered. As awful as it had been, if he had been human… he shut down that line of thought. At least he hadn’t been able to understand the creature; his father had. “It was still him; I could see in his eyes how much he hates me. And his brother was human, capable of magic…”

He shrunk down into himself, bending his head over his lap, hands clasped behind his head. All the emotions he’d been blocking off from feeling started exploding out all at once. Quiet and bitter, he asked, “Why does this nightmare never end?”

He couldn’t stay still any longer. Opening his eyes, he saw the pile of pebbles he’d gathered. He scooped them up in one hand and flung them as hard as he could.

They landed with a shower of tiny plops, ripples radiating and colliding until half the pond was in chaos.

Alexander took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I know it must have been horrible. But you’ll get through this. You’re the strongest person I know.”

The only response he got was a skeptical glance.

“It’s true.” Ren paused, thinking. Finally, he said, “Alexander.”

When he got no response, Ren tried again. “Alex. Look at me, please.”

He waited patiently until Alexander had finally done so. Firmly, he continued, “This wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Alexander looked back out over the pond. “That’s not what Dad said.”

“What did he say?”

“That this whole mess was my fault.”

Ren took a breath before continuing. “Your father told me he said some things he shouldn’t have, that he let the stress and exhaustion get to him.”

“He still said it.”

Ren nodded. “And he very much regrets it, I’m sure; it’s not in the least bit true. But it’s understandable if you’re angry with him for a while.”

They sat awhile and watched the slowing ripples fade and vanish. By the time Ren convinced Alexander to return to the castle a few minutes later, the pond surface was again smooth and calm.

[ayatai]

1, 4, 12, 24!

Haven't written anything since that Edgar snippet, so the last line of that, I suppose. After cramming every spare minute I've had the past couple months with writing and then drawing, probably going to take a bit of a break from doing KQ stuff for a bit.

4. Alexander learning how to do the fireball trick, probably down in a dungeon or something so he doesn't set anything on fire.

My idea file is pretty short now, most of what was in there got pulled out for Comfyvember.

12. I love pretty much any story where the character grows up to leave and escape to a better life (Cinderella, Disney Hunchback, Tangled, and obv KQ3), so that for sure.

24. Hmm I guess I put it down for a few days until I really feel into again. I've got enough other hobbies/stuff to do and limited enough free time that I'm rarely bored.

[ayatai]

4, 8, 12, 27?

4. The ending of kq3/kq4 from the perspective of a random citizen has been floating in the back of my head for ages, but have never gotten past the 'that would be fun to do' stage

8. Hmm if I had to I guess I could shove all these little ficlets together into one long, more cohesive sequel to Gwydion (which was kinda how Gwydion ended up morphing into a real fic) but I don't know that a big fic ever will happen again, at this point prefer writing in bits here and there.

12. One of my favorites of this month's ficlets (that hasn't come out yet) has a bit of the mentor trope to it, so I'm gonna go with that one.

27. Getting the ideas out of my head and onto paper, just getting into the flow without worrying about finer writing details and using a lot of [synonym for sad] or [blah blah blah description here] kind of notes to myself to fill in later.

[ayatai]

✍️ more fic writer asks!

reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!

the last sentence you wrote

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

how you feel about your current WIP

a story idea you haven’t written yet

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

your preferred writing fonts

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

a trope you’re really into right now

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

where do you get your inspiration?

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

talk about your writing and editing process

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

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pick three keywords that describe your writing

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besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

are you able to write with other people around?

your favorite part of the writing process

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how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

share a fic you’re especially proud of

[ayatai]

Confession

Comfort-vember Day 26 Prompt: Confession

Confession

Alexander was setting his practice sword back on the rack when he heard hoofbeats to his left. Looking up, he saw Rosella leading her white horse Snowdrop across the courtyard toward him. She was still in her split riding skirts, the bottom handbreath covered in mud. She held the reins in one hand and a bag in her other, the strap broken and trailing on the ground.

“How was practice?” she asked, her tone as if she were forcing herself to sound casual.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it a little more. Still need a lot more practice, though. What happened to your bag?”

She glanced down at it. “The strap broke while I was riding by Archer’s Grove. It’s still muddy there from all the rain, and… well…” She took a breath and pulled out a book. One of his favorites, and one he had lent her just that morning.

Mud stained the cover, making it appear more brown than blue. Moisture had swollen the pages and one entire corner was scratched and bent, ruining the lettering of the title. In all, it didn’t look particularly salvageable.

“It fell out, and Snowdrop startled when the bag broke. He must have stepped on it… I’m sorry!”

He inhaled sharply, the sight a sudden blow. It was just a book, but also… more. Knowledge… escape… the voices of others reaching him through the written word. The times he’d been denied access to them had been some of the hardest of all.

He looked back up at his sister; her hair had shifted, revealing a long red mark down one side of her neck.

“Are you all right? And Snowdrop?” he asked, pointing at the same spot on his own body and nodding toward hers. “Did he throw you?”

“No, we’re both fine. Some branches hit me while I was trying to settle him, but it’s just a scratch.”

Her voice wasn’t merely faded words on a page of an author long gone, but real and vibrant and right next to him.

“That’s all that matters, then.” “You’re not upset?”

“An accident, right? It’s a shame, both the book and your bag, but…” He gave her a faint, half-amused smile. “Anyway, I’d rather have a sister who wrecks my stuff, than the stuff.”

She returned his smile with a broad one of her own. “I better go unsaddle Snowdrop.” As she started toward the stables, she looked back over her shoulder and added, “Did I ever mention that you’re my favorite brother?”

Alexander snorted softly. Turning to finish putting away his gear, he quietly answered, “A lot of competition there.”

[ayatai]

Questions

Comfort-vember Day 25 Prompt: Hair brushing

Valanice hummed a tune as she brushed her daughter’s hair. While Rosella’s governess was more than capable at it, doing it herself was something she tried to make time for as many mornings as she could.

“What’s that you’re singing, Mama?”

“Humming. When you make the sound with your mouth closed like that, it’s called humming. I don’t rightly know the name of it; it’s a song I heard somewhere.” She exchanged her brush for the blue ribbon laying on the dressing table.

“Oh. Is this humming?” Rosella made a ‘ba ba ba’ sound with her mouth closed.

“Close enough, I suppose,” Valanice said as she finished tying the ribbon in her daughter’s blond hair. “There, all done.”

Rosella turned to look at her. “Mama?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Where does Captain Tamart go all the time?”

Valanice inhaled sharply. She knew she could make up some excuse, or distract Rosella fairly easily from the question, but she also knew Rosella deserved the truth. Valanice sat down on the bench beside her.

She had known this moment had been coming soon and had tried to prepare herself for it. Still, looking down at her tiny daughter, she knew she couldn’t explain right at this moment. Not by herself.

“I tell you what. Why don’t we go down to the kitchens after dinner with Daddy, and we’ll get a whole platter of those little chocolate cakes you like so much and - “

“Just for us?”

“Mmhm. And Daddy and I will do our best to answer your question. It’s… complicated to answer, so I need Daddy’s help, ok?”

“What does ‘complitated’ mean?”

“Complicated. It means… long and hard. Does that sound like a plan?”

“Yea! I’m all dressed. Can I go play now?”

“You go right ahead.”

[ayatai]

"Eagerly, Graham grabbed at the wooden bow. It was rough, and ugly, and he missed Achaka’s bow all the more. This bow wasn’t worth six coins. It might not even be worth one. He tested the string with his thumb, tied it tighter, pulled the draw back, thought. He didn’t care for how it felt under his hands, and there was only one arrow, but with patience and a whole moat-full of luck, he might manage to make a single shot. Maybe."

Inspired by a scene from @gerbiloftriumph's wonderful King's Quest fic, "Lost and Found."

[ayatai]

this isn't actually daventry