Prompt fills, part 3!
Oct. 28th, 2009 12:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ink_n_impSo, my friend Ian gave me an awesome picture prompt as well. It's a scene from a Russian operetta--but this I didn't know while writing it. I did NO research into the picture before I started, and was amused afterward when I compared my fill with the operetta.
This deals with a character that is in my Nano novel's 'verse--Bridget, a younger sister of Stannie and Ollie. In Toyland, it is expected that children leave home when they are 13 (13 being a very lucky number) to have themselves an Adventure. Most return shortly after. Some never do. Bridget (and her brother, Bobby) are two that are gone for many, many years. This is an idea of what happens to them, in a kingdom far, far away from their family in Toyland...
Written in great haste during my lunch break, and typed in even greater haste once home. I have a nagging suspicion the verb tense got screwed, but I'm so tired I can't tell *DIES*.
Bridget had been clever enough to win half the kingdom with the help of a wandering lady knight, who'd wandered away soon after, not at all interested in the half Bridget's cleverness had won her. And having been given the other half two years later by the advisors that had come with the crown for impressing them so, Bridget had found herself to be Queen, and at the tender age of sixteen.
She supposed it was because she had been no stranger to hard work before her crowning. The duties of being a ruler were very much like the chores she had had growing up as the forth oldest in Mother Peep's crowded home. Caring for subjects was so very much like caring for younger siblings, if only on a grander scale.
Bridget could recite from memory the latest figures about the crops, the trades, and about the neighboring kingdoms. She could settle disputes as if they were nothing more than fights over broken toys, she could reach accords with others as if they were only stubborn children, and she made certain that her people were provided for—this was especially important for Bridget, as she all too well remembered the empty table and lean days of her youth, the time between Father Peep's passing away and Stannie and Ollie finding Work.
The advisors that had come with the crown, try as they might, could not believe how prosperous she had made the kingdom in only a handful of years. Even her brother, Bobby—who had followed her on her Adventure, and who was now Prince Bobby—was still gobsmacked by how competent a Queen she was.
All in all, Bridget thought she was a decent Queen herself. She rather prided herself on the sort of Queen she was, and took particular pride in that she willingly took the responsibilities of her position along with the rewards.
So when the twisted, shriveled ghoul had appeared in her throne room, spitting magic and curses with a half-mad glee, what needed to be done was clear.
"This kingdom is mine!" he had cackled, "I claim it for mine own!"
"Sir," Queen Bridget began as she rose from her seat. The sight and stench of the wizard was nearly unbearable—three of her advisors had already fainted, and Bobby, brave though he was, looked ill beyond words. She felt quite ill herself, and had to push the back of her knees against her throne to keep her legs from trembling. "I'm afraid I cannot allow that. I gained this land in a fair test, and proved myself. What proof have you that it should be yours?"
"Because I can take it from you! I have powers beyond your wildest imaginings!" he declared as he approached her.
"A mere show of force does not a ruler make," she countered. "Perhaps a show of force is enough for a mere tyrant, or a usurper, but never a ruler."
"You dare call me MERE!" he snapped.
"I dare nothing. I only speak my own observations," she offered, spreading her arms humbly. "But if you are concerned with such a thing as power, I DO dare to say I have more power than you."
"I should strike you do!" he screamed, stomping his feet in rage. "What powers do you possess?"
And Bridget was not a good liar, and had never learned how to be; but she was very good at telling tales. "I confess—" she began, "that my power is nothing so showy, or so obvious. My power is not even over other people. My power is only over myself. My power is that I have a greater will than any other soul in this world, if there is something I want. But greater than this, I have the power to do nothing. Can you do nothing, even if you desired otherwise? Have you power enough to do nothing?"
And how quickly her trap ensnared his pride, for he sneered and said, "I have power enough, and more to do anything you claim to do!"
"I'm afraid I do not believe you," she said, sighing. "But if you would enter a little wager with me—"
"Done and done, what is your wager!" he shrilly demanded as he stepped upon the dais of her throne, and drew himself up, tall and gaunt, besides her.
The stench of death off of him was stomach turning, but she forced herself to breath slow and shallowly. "I wager that I can go longer without doing one thing, than you can go without doing one thing," she declared.
"What thing shall it be?" he asked.
"We shall chose for each other—of course, nothing impossible, like, 'not living', or, 'not breathing', or 'not eating', or 'not drinking water', or 'not sleeping'," she explained, certain she had covered the impossible.
"And how long shall this wager run?" he drawled; it was a strange change to his tone, and his face twisted into a stranger eagerness. "Seven years is customary."
And though she hesitated a moment, she drew her mouth thin, and nodded. "Seven years it shall be. If we draw even in our wager, then you shall leave us be as if you never came here, and find another kingdom to take; for we are then both equal to the task of ruling. If—"
"If you lose, than this kingdom is mine!"
"Yes, but if I win, you will NEVER seek the crown again, for you are unfit to it," she continued. "Agreed?"
"The terms then. What would you keep from me?" he asked.
"Your magic. And you?"
He thought for a moment, and smiled, and said, "Your words. They are magic enough."
He stared down at her, a horrific vision of greed and the grave. And nodded. "One spell then, to ensure we keep to the rules," he said, grinning.
"Your Highness, no!" one advisor gasped as she nodded; but the decision was hers alone to make, and she dare not wait for doubt.
The wizard grabbed her, pulled her close, and held out his sword.
He released her for the blink of an eye, just long enough to grab the tip of the blade. Black blood gushed from his hand, coating the tip. "Now, you," he ordered as his hand snaked around her shoulders once more, dripping black on her gown. She compulsively drew away from the blade, but his arm kept her close.
With no other choice, she reached out, and likewise grasped the blade.
The cut burned like ice, burned through her palm and up her arm, her own blood red against its cold sheen.
"Now you will know if I should forfeit, and I will know if you," he said with a smirk, and he drew his sword away. But the burn was still there, and it was settling into her bones in such a way that she suspected it might never fade,
"I am allowed one last spell for myself, to return from whence I came," he said as he left her standing on the dais, and it was no request. But she nodded her head as if it were something she could grant him. "Once I have left here, our wager will begin, and will end only when it is broken, or seven years has passed."
And as she already wished to prepare herself for seven years of silence, Queen Bridget merely nodded her understanding.
"Very good. In seven years—or until one fails."
And in a flash, the wizard ghoul was gone from her throne room—
As was her brother.
Bridget's bleeding hand flew to her mouth, and she bit down on her fist, though in her chest a scream beat against her ribs like a wild beast. He'd taken her brother, her only tie to Toyland, to a family they'd not seen in years, and doubted they'd ever see again—
She bit her fist, harder and harder, until her blood and her tears had ceased to fall.
This deals with a character that is in my Nano novel's 'verse--Bridget, a younger sister of Stannie and Ollie. In Toyland, it is expected that children leave home when they are 13 (13 being a very lucky number) to have themselves an Adventure. Most return shortly after. Some never do. Bridget (and her brother, Bobby) are two that are gone for many, many years. This is an idea of what happens to them, in a kingdom far, far away from their family in Toyland...
Written in great haste during my lunch break, and typed in even greater haste once home. I have a nagging suspicion the verb tense got screwed, but I'm so tired I can't tell *DIES*.
Bridget had been clever enough to win half the kingdom with the help of a wandering lady knight, who'd wandered away soon after, not at all interested in the half Bridget's cleverness had won her. And having been given the other half two years later by the advisors that had come with the crown for impressing them so, Bridget had found herself to be Queen, and at the tender age of sixteen.
She supposed it was because she had been no stranger to hard work before her crowning. The duties of being a ruler were very much like the chores she had had growing up as the forth oldest in Mother Peep's crowded home. Caring for subjects was so very much like caring for younger siblings, if only on a grander scale.
Bridget could recite from memory the latest figures about the crops, the trades, and about the neighboring kingdoms. She could settle disputes as if they were nothing more than fights over broken toys, she could reach accords with others as if they were only stubborn children, and she made certain that her people were provided for—this was especially important for Bridget, as she all too well remembered the empty table and lean days of her youth, the time between Father Peep's passing away and Stannie and Ollie finding Work.
The advisors that had come with the crown, try as they might, could not believe how prosperous she had made the kingdom in only a handful of years. Even her brother, Bobby—who had followed her on her Adventure, and who was now Prince Bobby—was still gobsmacked by how competent a Queen she was.
All in all, Bridget thought she was a decent Queen herself. She rather prided herself on the sort of Queen she was, and took particular pride in that she willingly took the responsibilities of her position along with the rewards.
So when the twisted, shriveled ghoul had appeared in her throne room, spitting magic and curses with a half-mad glee, what needed to be done was clear.
"This kingdom is mine!" he had cackled, "I claim it for mine own!"
"Sir," Queen Bridget began as she rose from her seat. The sight and stench of the wizard was nearly unbearable—three of her advisors had already fainted, and Bobby, brave though he was, looked ill beyond words. She felt quite ill herself, and had to push the back of her knees against her throne to keep her legs from trembling. "I'm afraid I cannot allow that. I gained this land in a fair test, and proved myself. What proof have you that it should be yours?"
"Because I can take it from you! I have powers beyond your wildest imaginings!" he declared as he approached her.
"A mere show of force does not a ruler make," she countered. "Perhaps a show of force is enough for a mere tyrant, or a usurper, but never a ruler."
"You dare call me MERE!" he snapped.
"I dare nothing. I only speak my own observations," she offered, spreading her arms humbly. "But if you are concerned with such a thing as power, I DO dare to say I have more power than you."
"I should strike you do!" he screamed, stomping his feet in rage. "What powers do you possess?"
And Bridget was not a good liar, and had never learned how to be; but she was very good at telling tales. "I confess—" she began, "that my power is nothing so showy, or so obvious. My power is not even over other people. My power is only over myself. My power is that I have a greater will than any other soul in this world, if there is something I want. But greater than this, I have the power to do nothing. Can you do nothing, even if you desired otherwise? Have you power enough to do nothing?"
And how quickly her trap ensnared his pride, for he sneered and said, "I have power enough, and more to do anything you claim to do!"
"I'm afraid I do not believe you," she said, sighing. "But if you would enter a little wager with me—"
"Done and done, what is your wager!" he shrilly demanded as he stepped upon the dais of her throne, and drew himself up, tall and gaunt, besides her.
The stench of death off of him was stomach turning, but she forced herself to breath slow and shallowly. "I wager that I can go longer without doing one thing, than you can go without doing one thing," she declared.
"What thing shall it be?" he asked.
"We shall chose for each other—of course, nothing impossible, like, 'not living', or, 'not breathing', or 'not eating', or 'not drinking water', or 'not sleeping'," she explained, certain she had covered the impossible.
"And how long shall this wager run?" he drawled; it was a strange change to his tone, and his face twisted into a stranger eagerness. "Seven years is customary."
And though she hesitated a moment, she drew her mouth thin, and nodded. "Seven years it shall be. If we draw even in our wager, then you shall leave us be as if you never came here, and find another kingdom to take; for we are then both equal to the task of ruling. If—"
"If you lose, than this kingdom is mine!"
"Yes, but if I win, you will NEVER seek the crown again, for you are unfit to it," she continued. "Agreed?"
"The terms then. What would you keep from me?" he asked.
"Your magic. And you?"
He thought for a moment, and smiled, and said, "Your words. They are magic enough."
He stared down at her, a horrific vision of greed and the grave. And nodded. "One spell then, to ensure we keep to the rules," he said, grinning.
"Your Highness, no!" one advisor gasped as she nodded; but the decision was hers alone to make, and she dare not wait for doubt.
The wizard grabbed her, pulled her close, and held out his sword.
He released her for the blink of an eye, just long enough to grab the tip of the blade. Black blood gushed from his hand, coating the tip. "Now, you," he ordered as his hand snaked around her shoulders once more, dripping black on her gown. She compulsively drew away from the blade, but his arm kept her close.
With no other choice, she reached out, and likewise grasped the blade.
The cut burned like ice, burned through her palm and up her arm, her own blood red against its cold sheen.
"Now you will know if I should forfeit, and I will know if you," he said with a smirk, and he drew his sword away. But the burn was still there, and it was settling into her bones in such a way that she suspected it might never fade,
"I am allowed one last spell for myself, to return from whence I came," he said as he left her standing on the dais, and it was no request. But she nodded her head as if it were something she could grant him. "Once I have left here, our wager will begin, and will end only when it is broken, or seven years has passed."
And as she already wished to prepare herself for seven years of silence, Queen Bridget merely nodded her understanding.
"Very good. In seven years—or until one fails."
And in a flash, the wizard ghoul was gone from her throne room—
As was her brother.
Bridget's bleeding hand flew to her mouth, and she bit down on her fist, though in her chest a scream beat against her ribs like a wild beast. He'd taken her brother, her only tie to Toyland, to a family they'd not seen in years, and doubted they'd ever see again—
She bit her fist, harder and harder, until her blood and her tears had ceased to fall.
