#it's fun to write some bardcliff again!

[grelleswife]

Snippet Sunday

Sharing excerpts from a couple of WIPs below!

This first one is from a fantasy Bardcliff fic (title pending), in which knight!Bard must survive an encounter with Grelle the Red Lady of the Lake in order to win the sword she guards.

“Easy, girl.”

Bard tugged on the reins, bringing his roan mare to a halt. Strider snorted and let out a faint whinny, and her nostrils flared as she pawed the ground with her hoof.

Bard gave her an encouraging pat on the neck. Her coat was several shades darker, damp with sweat. Poor thing. He hated having to ride her this hard.

“Guess yer tired as me. Probably moreso, seein’ as yer had to lug around a knight an’ his armor all day.”

He reminded himself to give her one of the carrots stowed away in his travel bag later that evening.

“I know it ain’t easy, but we have ter to this…for the young prince.”

Bard dismounted, yanked off his helmet, and swore under his breath while trying to work the stiffness out of his muscles. He’d ridden almost nonstop for most of the day, and being in the saddle that long made a fellow damn sore.

“So this is it, eh? The Red Lady’s lake.”

The songs and legends often spoke of its beauty, but they’d failed to do it justice. The body of water was surrounded on all sides by dense forest. The trees’ vibrant green leaves shone like pieces of stained glass in the setting sun’s rays, and seemed to whisper some delightful secret amongst themselves when the wind rustled their branches. The lake’s surface was so perfectly smooth that it acted like a vast mirror, drawing the sunset’s fiery golds and rosy pinks into its depths. And the waters themselves…

Serene, perfect blue. Like the sapphire ring the young prince wore on his thumb. Bard wanted a closer look.

And a snippet from the long-overdue Chapter 9 of Metanoia, “Gifts,” in which Agni and Sebastian make Christmas presents for each other!

Touch was a crucial source of comfort for the butler. On days when the young earl tried his patience, Agni had seen him squeezing their cats’ dainty pink paws, his harried expression relaxing into an affectionate smile. He loved petting her and the kittens, removing his gloves to bury his fingers in their dark fur. ‘There’s nothing softer. It’s about as close to heaven as someone like me can get,’ he’d once confided to Agni. And Sebastian played with Agni’s hair every chance he could, giving it a mischievous tug when they were working together, braiding it when they had a spare minute to themselves, or caressing it like a woman letting treasured strings of pearls spill through her fingers while she admired her jewelry.

This carving should be pleasing to the touch, then. Smooth, without sharp, jagged edges. Fitting naturally in Sebastian’s palm. But what exactly should it be? Agni held the wooden block and closed his eyes. His mind travelled back to the day Sebastian had first shown him the kittens, and how gently his lover’s hands had cradled them.

The khansama’s eyes snapped open. A cat! A lovely little cat that Sebastian could hold when he was feeling overwrought and needed something to fidget with. Agni would paint it black, in honor of Sebastian’s “lady.” He smiled when he thought of the butler patting her domed head and babbling in adoration while she purred. Something beautiful and bright sprang to life in Sebastian’s eyes at such times, like the moon shining in the night sky.

My moonlight.

Agni set to work, shaping the block into a gift he hoped would be worthy of his beloved.