A retelling of the 12 Dancing Princesses I wrote on ao3 a while back. The chapters start out pretty short, and become even shorter as I grow more tired. I wrote this at midnight in the duration of 2 hours, so apologies if it sucks.…
I was foolish and young, and I had gotten myself neck deep into this assasiantion plot, and into this - whatever this was, between myself and Darius. He was a betrothed man, that I knew. He was to marry, and that was that. I could never come between him and his Queen, not when I was no more than some low - bred peasant, good for nothing but service. "I don't love Princess Ophera," Darius began, his voice wavering. I looked up then, and our eyes locked. Navy blue met cerulean in a dance of colour, as beautiful as the rolling waves or the bright blue sky. "I have never wanted this life for myself. Ever since I was younger, all I wanted was - I know this will sound stupid -" A bitter laugh. I leaned forward and gripped his hands in my own, willing curiosity into my face, hoping to comfort him. It seemed to work, for he continued to speak. "I love to play the violin. I wanted to be a world famous violinist, renowned for my art." I smiled at the vulnerability, even as pain tugged through me. How could I be so stupid, to never consider that he might have hobbies of his own? I had not painted since my book was stolen, but that didn't mean I couldn't start up again. "Will you play for me sometime? The violin?" "I will. My Mother loved the violin as well," His gaze turned distant, somber. I squeezed his hands in reassurance, and he smiled slightly. "Tell me about your Mother."…
Anwyn Lorillis is a princess thrown into the position of heir. Faye Briallen is a servant girl doomed to work for an immortal sorceress until she dies. Evander Levyn is a merchant's son turned soldier, set on reforming the army. Gavril Maena is the son of two powerful mages, turned into the king and queen's weapon. They each live different lives, apart from one another. Until one day, a great enemy emerges. The four find themselves racing against the clock to save their home before it's too late.…
I thought it would never happen to me. My whole life I'd been told to never, ever write on my skin with ink, lest someone I don't know find it. I was told that the stories were all lies, and that I should've never trusted the idea of soulmates anyways. But then I woke up, only to see a bouquet of flowers drawn on my arm.…
A collection of very short stories about girls and women facing something, whether it be the future of the lands they swore to protect, the life of a loved one or who they are.…