Bite Sized Bits of Fic

Any, Any,
"You asked to speak with the King"
"That's your King!?"
"Indeed"
"But she's a woman!"

Edited Date: 2018-08-02 07:40 am (UTC)

From:

tigriswolf

Terrence had been chosen by his town to travel to the Capitol on Grievance Day, when any citizen of the kingdom could stand before the throne and tell the king their grievance with no fear of impropriety or offense. Terence’s town, Riorse, had held a vote by everyone of age and decided that their grievance of the year was the taxes on farmland, which hadn’t been brought to the king’s attention since Terence himself was a boy.

So he traveled to the Capitol first in a caravan with merchants, and then by rented horse, and at last on his own two legs. As his journey neared its end, he fell in with other pilgrims, including a ragged band from the next realm over, who wished to petition for citizenship.

“There’s a war on, y’see,” Yera, their leader, told Terrence when he asked about their quest. “We heard tell that your king has magic warriors, so if we become part of this kingdom, y’see, he’ll send help to our family’s back home.”

“I see,” Terrence said. An interesting request, surely, but one Terrence was quite certain would not be granted. And none of his business.

On Grievance Day, Terrence was directed towards the group from his region, Farmlands, whose grievances would be presented to the king just before lunch. Terrence had provided tomatoes from Riorse, as was customary for the court’s luncheon on Grievance Day. As he ate in the Lesser Hall with the rest of the commoners whose petitions had yet to be presented, Terrence heard Yera’s voice.

“That’s your king?!” Yera was demanding. Terrence glanced over to see King Annalyn stroll by the doorway with her consort, and then looked around to locate Yera.

Yera was sitting was the Artisan group, the rest of his band spread throughout the table. One of the artisans murmured something but Yera, again, spoke loud enough for the Hall to hear.

“That’s a woman!”

“And is that a problem?”

Terrence ducked his head, because that was Yvonne from the Magician’s Guild, the right hand of the King’s Sorcerer, and absolutely no one ever wanted to offend her.

“Of course it’s a problem!” Yera shouted. “A woman can’t be king!”

“Why not?” Yvonne asked serenely.

Shaking his head, Terrence dipped his last bite of bread in the remaining butter on his plate. Just from his one conversation with Yera on the road, he knew exactly how this would end.

“Because,” Yera thundered, banging his hand on the table as everyone around him inched away, “she’s a woman! Women are weak!”

Terrence glanced up. A magician of Yvonne’s skill was rare, so it was a treat to watch her turn Yera into a gerbil.

As suddenly as she had arrived, Yvonne was gone. Yera’s companions, of course, panicked, but one of the palace guards hurried over to guide them away, Yera safely held in hand.

Terrence finished his lunch. He still had time before everyone would reconvene in the throne room, and he’d heard about the magnificence of the palace. Surely he could look around a little, bring back stories to home.

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OMG! Yes! This is perfect!

From:

tigriswolf

Glad you like!

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tigriswolf

They call it a curse, to sleep and never wake. The Sleep of the Dead, gifted by the uninvited fairy Tiarana with a dark gleam in her eyes and cruel mirth twisting her lips as she Spoke the words.

Princess Evangeline, the first and only child of King Edward and Queen Wilhelmina, the longed for heir, the blessing to the realm, cursed with the Sleep of the Dead, and the youngest fairy at the celebration had the power only to ensure that one day the princess would be woken, and to ensure the realm slept with her so she would not wake alone.

It was well-meant, that final gift, but as Princess Evangeline grew and learned, she could not help but wonder if perhaps it would be more of a curse.

They tried to shield her from the knowledge, her parents and tutors and maids, but Evangeline was no fool. She had 18 years (less, since she only learned the details when she was 5) to counter or break the curse, and so she taught herself magic when she could escape the watching eyes of her guards and parents and tutors and servants. Magic, and magic-wielders, had been outlawed the day the fairy cursed the princess. A great purge swept through the land, ordered by King Edward, spearheaded by the one wielder of magic allowed to live and remain in the kingdom: Edward’s younger brother Thomas, the King’s Sorcerer.

In secret, he taught Evangeline the barest magic, for she had not the gift of it. And he knew it would not be enough. Only a fairy of equal or greater strength could break Tiarana’s spell; no human could.

And so, as the sun dawned on her 18th birthday, Princess Evangeline never stirred from her bed. The curse spread until, border to border, every living thing slept—humans, animals, trees and grass. A stasis spell, cast by the young fairy Ridiana to counteract Tiarana’s curse. The Sleep of the Dead, to one day be broken by a brave and true knight (or prince, or peasant), who would dare to travel through a cursed land and find the Sleeping Princess and wake her with True Love’s kiss, the most powerful magic of all.

Or so was the story the fairy Ridiana told, that day she Spoke the words.

The truth of it is this:

Those who sleep, dream. And the fairy Tiarana visits the Princess Evangeline’s dreams as she sleeps the Sleep of the Dead, and she murmurs the secrets of power that the sorcerer Thomas could never fathom, and the princess will wake when she so chooses, when she has learned all there is to know, and magic will spring forth at her Words and her fingers, and Tiarana will watch and she will laugh, for it was no curse she lay on an innocent child that day.

It was Tiarana choosing her successor. A daughter, an heir, a Sister in the oldest arts.

My dear Evangeline, Tiarana whispers to the Sleeping princess, the power in you will shake the world of men.

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