Moving to a new site

 Heya everyone! Just letting you know that I now have a personal website!! It is my intention to continue my blog over there moving forward. 

I look forward to seeing you all over there! https://rosedemica.wixsite.com/rosedemica 

Cheers

Rose Demica

A Kings Ransom

Happy Easter to all those who celebrate it! And to those who don’t, I hope you had an awesome week regardless.

This months prompt was: The world’s tiniest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it. I’m actually really happy with the way it turned out, so I hope you all like it too!



He had picked a beautiful place to rest, diving towards the city square as the sun started to rise. The huge water fountain looked even more stunning the closer he got. Marble cherubs were tipping water over a golden crowned man. The water streaming off his body and into overflowing cups held up by much smaller human figures, scrambling over each other.

He didn’t understand the meaning behind it, nor the symbolism it so proudly displayed. No, all he cared for was the water that collected at the fountain's base. The same tinge of blue as the scales that ran down his back. It would offer protection from the much larger dragons that flew through the day, and that would cause him harm.

A sigh of relief passed his lips as the cool water caressed his scales, and he did a few quick spins to wash fully before darting to the center column and curling up at its base.

He would be safe here, of that he was certain.

A sudden plop awoke from his slumber. Head beating fast as his eyes darted around the fountain, searching for the threat that had uncovered his hiding spot.

He stopped when his eyes rested on a shiny copper coin. Surely no one knew he was here, yet still he was gifted an offering for peace? No one had ever seen him before, let alone found him scary enough to make offerings to.

He jumped as another copper coin broke the water’s surface. Scales flaring up slightly as a whiff of flame began curling in his throat.

“What did you wish for Mikeal?” A human voice asked above him. The dragon raised his head to see an elderly lady, a hand wrapped around a much smaller child's one. The other gathered in her skirts, keeping them away from the waters edge.

“I can’t tell you, then it won’t be true.” The small child tore his hand free from his guardians, moving closer so his chubby fingers could churn the fountains crystal waters. He recognised the finery of the clothes that adorned the child, a dragon could always sense such things. He was tempted for half a moment to grab a shred of fabric as it dropped beneath the water's surface, but the moment passed. The boy's guardian grabbing his arm once more to pull him away.

He realised what this was as another coin sunk through the water. A wishing fountain. His guardian had told him of these. How the humans believed the gods would grant them wishes in return for the offerings of coins, but this was the first he’d ever found. The other bodies of water that had concealed himself within were mostly ignored by human folk. Even the other fountains he’d passed by. He had grown to believe that his nest guardian had simply been telling a falsehood, meant to trick him into settling somewhere less than what he deserved. 

He settled back down to sleep, at first waking with every new wish, but he soon grew accustomed to it, until only his ears twitched with each new copper coin. His eyes half opened as a ‘plonk’ changed the plop he was so used to hearing, opening his eyes to watch a silver piece sink down to the bottom. Glancing up, he saw a young lady muttering fervently, a hand over her stomach and eyes squeezed closed.

Prayers he knew about, but he was unaware that humans also had to make a sacrifice. He was under the impression that prayers only cost them a small portion of their time. Perhaps the customs of this land were different, these gods demanding more from their believers. 

A sigh left his throat, a small bubble rising to the surface as he settled down once again. Ears twitching at every ‘plop’, eyes half opening at every ‘plonk’; making sure his hiding space was still safe.

He shot up at a splosh, teeth bared and searching for the threat which had uncovered his hiding spot, preparing to strike fast before making yet another speedy getaway. Flee for his life again.

He froze when the sun glinted off a shiny golden coin, already settled at the bottom of the fountain. 

He had never seen anything so beautiful. He had only ever seen golden coins in his nest guardians hoard, and even then only from afar. It was far too dangerous to ever think of stepping closer.

But now, there was one right before him. Within reach of his tingly talons. With very little effort on his behalf, no carriages to rob, counting houses to invade. No purse strings to cut nor nobles to befuddle. 

His eyes drifted upwards, scanning the huge crowds that wandered past, only a few were paying enough attention to toss a coin in the well. The finely dressed man who he could only presume had thrown the golden coin was already leaving, becoming lost in the crowds.

The young dragon glanced back at the gold coin. His talon’s itched to touch it, bask in the glorious golden glow.

He darted out before he could stop himself, Front talon’s grasping the edges and starting to lift it. The golden coin slipped from his grasp, sending him backwards. It was much heavier than he’d imagined it would be. 

He glanced upwards making sure no one was close enough to see him, no human eyes trained upon his treasure. Satisfied he was still safe, he began moving the coin, inching it closer and closer towards his hiding spot. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally managed to get a good grip on the coin. Wings unfolding so he could slip through the water, moving quickly back to safety with his prize. 

The golden coin was still warm, but no longer bathed in sunlight. It radiated the heat of real treasure, carried from warmth to warmth until it became his.

He curled up on top of the coin. Wings tucked into his body, head nestled across his front paws, and tail wrapped around it all. He barely covered all the coin, but he didn’t care.

He finally had a treasure of his own, and its warmth belonged to him now. 

After that, no further coins could wake him from his slumber. The plops and plonks just background noises that danced in the background of his gold inspired dream. More coins added to the small mountain of gems he had been bestowed with by those seeking his favour.

It was a bright light that awoke him next. Instantly leaping awake, talons closing around the coin and a hiss passing through bared teeth at whomever was coming for his treasure.

“Think the king will be impressed with today’s gatherings?” A voice spoke from behind a light, the small dragon unable to make out any features thanks to the unnaturally bright light.

“I do not think our young King knows the meaning of the word impressed, much less be able to feel it.” He could see the guard that made such a scathing remark, a tall man, covered in glistening silver armour that danced with the flames of the torch. He was standing beside an even larger brown stallion, one hand on the reigns, and the other on the hilt of his sword.

The dragon started dragging his coin out of the light as a hand swooped into the water and collected a small pile of coins. The fire light flickering to normal as the water was disturbed. He would hide, wait for the humans to pass, and then take his coin and find a new hiding spot. Somewhere deep within a body of water separating two lands. He would need a good place to keep the hoard he hoped to grow.

He froze as the hand did, there was no way the human could have seen him. Not with the water so disturbed by the human collecting all the coins.

“What is it?” The guard stepped closer, drawing his sword slightly.

“Nothing, I just thought I-” The man shook his head, turning back to the task as he was interrupted. 

“You are not paid to think, just to collect coins from that murky peasant water.” The guard stepped back again, confident his own eyes hadn’t see whatever it was the man elbow deep in water had.

“Perhaps if you were to help?” A glance over his shoulder at the guard as he shook his hand to remove excess water from the coins before they were dropped into a cloth bag. 

“Help? I am a member of the royal guard. That menial chore is beneath us. It is why we have you slaves to do it for us. Heaven knows what horrible things peasants have infected that water with.” The man turned back to the fountain before rolling his eyes, picking up another scoop of coins.

The young dragon timed each careful shuffle with the man's molten eyes closing, focused on the huge threat above him. The young man that would no doubt come for his golden treasure if he spotted it. 

“Just guarding you is chore enough, that so-called king cares so much about every copper coin that he assigns his own household guard to watch over each and every single one of you filthy convicts to make sure you don’t pocket anything.” The guard continued to mutter, eyes watching every movement of the man’s arm in and out of the water, making sure all coins were shaken and deposited.

“I was informed that all these coins are donated to the church of the holy mother. The king has us collect the coins so that the priests do not have to spend time they could be studying and teaching out collecting tithes.” The man responded, leaning closer to the water to grab the coins closer towards the center. He was close enough that the dragon could make out the light freckles that dotted across the mans otherwise tanned nose.

“Pfft, a tale told so the peasants believe the king is a kind ruler, he keeps all the coins for himself.” Panic and dread filled the tiny dragon as the man's face loomed right above him, he was able to see each strand of honey brown hair.

“If that is so, surely he would not mind missing one.” He curled himself low to the coin, preparing to fight as the human above him winked. He had no idea what that could possibly mean, but he would not let his coin go without a battle to the death.

“Why stop at just one?” The man pulled his arm back and stood abruptly at the guard's response.

“So it is you. I knew one of the guards were stealing from the church’s fountain donation.” The guard tightened his hand around his sword, taking a step closer.

“Who do you think you are slave? Go back to work!” 

“I think not. I think you shall pick up all the remaining coins, lest someone else finds out of your little scheme.” The golden eyed man picked up a cloth, drying out his hands and taking a step away from the fountain. The small dragon saw his opportunity, taking the coin and darting to the right, under the cover of a stream of water. It was too dangerous to try fly out now, but the second the humans left he would be in the sky.

“Me? Touch that filth. Who do you think you are? It will be my word, a guard of the royal household, against yours, a convict forced to work for the castle to pay for your sins.” The guard took another step closer. “So I suggest you get back to work, before I force you too.” The golden eyed man chuckled, a shake of his head as he put the cloth down.

“You’ll have to force me to.” The silver armoured man immediately dropped the horse's reins, charging at the golden eyed man, who seemed to be expecting the action. Immediately sidestepping the charge and pushing the man into the fountain, to exactly where the tiny dragon was hiding. Instinctively the little dragon bit the man on the nose, grabbing his treasure and zooming around to the other side of the fountain. He cared little for the roar of pain his actions caused, nor for the loud laughter from the other man.

“Michael!” A dozen armed men stepped forth from the shadows, a light suddenly bursting forth from the torches they all held. Startling the tiny dragon, he was screwed. There was no escape from this one, they had him surrounded. They would steal his coin from his talons and kill him for daring to step foot in the country,

“Your majesty.” A different guard spoke, bowing his head before stepping close enough to haul the silver plated man from the fountain.

“Your majesty?” He echoed, trying to lift a hand to stem the bleeding from all the tiny puncture marks in his nose.

“The man you’ve been calling a convict, and a slave, and... what else was there again my king?” The silver breasted man fell to his knees, words streaming past his lips in a manner far to fast for the poor dragon to keep up with.

“Get him out of here.” The other guards all quickly moved to lift the silver man to his feet, hauling him out of the courtyard. No one paying any attention to the cries and pleads for mercy falling from his lips.

“I know you’re in there.” The tiny dragon jumped as draconic fell from the golden eyed man. His voice deepening to the slight growl required. “I mean you no harm. Would you please show yourself?” The tiny dragon shook his head, it was too dangerous. He knew what humans did to his kind, even those large enough to terrorise countries. There was no hope he would survive.

“Sire? Will we be returning to the castle? Another team is waiting for us to leave before they come in to empty the fountain for the church.”

“No thank you, I’ll finish this one myself.” The guard bowed his head, stepping back with three others to await their master by the horse, keeping an eye out for any threats to their King. “I have yet to see one of your kind, but my mother adores you all. She often travels to other kingdoms to meet those that have made a peace deal with their nobility. I always wanted to join her, but all the advisors claimed it was too dangerous for the crown’s heir.”

The tiny dragon stayed huddled over the coin, eyes darting this way and that as the King slowly lifted each and every coin out of the fountain. He never stopped speaking as he did so, his deep draconic voice was somewhat calming, and the words he spoke only made the tiny dragon more and more curious.

“Ah, there you are.” He froze, swivelling around to see the Kings head resting on the marble fountain, golden eyes focused on him. “My goodness you are stunning, the stories my mother spins would never do you justice.” The human man made no move towards him, just folding beneath his chin. “I mean you no harm little one. If anything I would like to help you.”

A finger reached towards the water, but stopped as the tiny dragon lifted himself up, preparing to attack. “With your size you must be young. Freshly chased from the nest. My palace is warm, full of all sorts of treasure you could claim as your own. All I would ask in return is your trust and friendship.” This time he did extend his hand into the water, holding it out in front of the dragon.

“I will not force this upon you, it is your choice. The gold is yours to keep regardless.” The tiny dragon lifted his head to rest against the man's fingertip, using the simplest of magicks he had mastered to sense the man's true motives. Within the man's heart and soul he saw no true malice, he had a heart as warm as his eyes, and meant every word he spoke. Another true treasure he would claim as his own.

He tightened his talons around the coin, flexing his wings before taking off, straight out of the water and towards the man's neck. He could feel the rumble of each breath as he curled up beneath the king's ear, gold still tightly gripped in his talons.

“Do you have a name little one?” He shook his head, he was too young to speak, but he knew it was a gesture the human would understand. 

“I think I’ll call you Moshe.” 

I hear you crying sometimes when you think no one is listening.

Heya Everyone.

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Life kinda exploded for a bit, and thanks to some dear friends, I am back, hopefully permanently. The plan is to start with one a month, around the third of each. Then as I get back into the swing of things, I’ll try and slowly get back to once a week.

To be perfectly honest with you all. I stopped writing a long time before I stopped posting each week. I discovered a few months later that my medication was inhibiting my creativeness. It worked to stop my depression, but it also stopped all other feelings as well. I have now switched medication, and slowly but surely, the urge and ideas to write are returning.

My illness has also gotten both worse and better. A few months ago I was hospitalized, before being released into my families care. I have finally bounced back from that, and have even more coping strategies to try stop that happening again.

Also, as of the first few days of December last year, I am no longer a single pringle. I cannot find the words to describe how amazing and supportive my boyfriend is. He’s been there through all the ups and downs of the last few months, and he’s one of the five people helping me get back into the swing of writing things again.

And finally, I have once again left the family home. The last few months have been a chaotic mess of trying to find a place while balancing illnesses and other commitments, but we did it! And I’m feeling better than I have in a long time.

None of that truly excuses my abrupt disappearance, and I do know that. I never wanted this, any of it. I started this blog with the intent to write and post every week. I want that again, I just need to be more realistic about it this time. What restraints I already face, and the realistic side of just how ill I am. Please bear with me.

To our standard thing. This month’s prompt was I hear you crying sometimes, when you think no one is listening. I did have a really clever idea for this, but as a really clever writer, I started it on a pad of paper. Which I managed to misplace in the last few days before I could borrow a computer to type it up on. (Oh yes! I also managed to smash my laptop at the end of last year, extra skill points). So... hopefully, I’ll find that sometime soon, and add it as an additional post.

She was supposed to be the strong one, the fierce and fearless leader who never stepped a foot out of place. Someone who was affected by nothing. It was a cloak she wore around herself, a shield used to keep her safe from all that would dare try prove otherwise.

It wasn’t until late at night that she allowed her shield to fall. When all those that counted upon her had left for places and nightmares of their own. When the words she had and the strength she held could protect those she held dear no more.

That is when the terrors of the day could be held at bay no longer. When that which she had stood so strongly before mere hours earlier, now reduced her to tears. The fears that she had dared not allow herself to feel crashed over her. A tsunami her walls could no longer hold back.

It was her secret, her burden to bear. Evidence hidden behind creams and powders during the day. She would never allow anyone to see what she hid behind her walls, just how much of a toll it took on her to defend them all, no matter what should come their way.

They were her people, she had sworn that she would protect them with her dying breath. That no harm would come to them as long as she stood before them. A sword and shield that would never sway, never falter, and never surrender.

It took her by surprise then, when he saw through her walls. A single glance saw past the lies and deceit all her self-acclaimed friends and companions never thought to question. Saw what she thought was so well hidden behind her creams and powders.

But she saw it in him too, the weight of the crown that nestled within his raven locks. The way he truly felt hidden behind tight smiles and polite laughs. Perhaps it was because she herself knew all the signs, all the ways to hide oneself away. It was why she had no problem confronting him; late one night, when a storm raged around them and those they had sworn to protect were safe within stone walls.

“I hear you crying sometimes when you think no one is listening.” His hand reached out, catching a teardrop as it joined the rainwater leaving streaks down her face. Palm flattening over her cheek as fingers tangled within strands of her hair.

“As I do you.”

  

Meeting Shynai

Heya Everyone!

So the other day I was searching for... something... I don't remember what, but instead of finding that I stumbled upon some really old stories. They were written on paper, which means I've carted them around through 8 different houses, over six years, carefully protected in folders and boxes... and this one? Well, it's time to bring it back to life, switch it into the digital age and turn it from the skeleton it was when past me was learning how to bring stories to life into a fully fleshed out flowing story... at least, that's what modern day me is gonna say. Check back in in a few years and see how I feel about it then.

Hope you enjoy :)

“Sir, the ball is about to begin.” Crown Prince Michael frowned, adjusting his tie in the mirror once again. He hated these things, the endless line of balls thrown in the hopes that his aunt would find someone she could marry and make King of the country, someone whose children she could bear, create a real heir to assume the throne after her death.

He knew she hated these things more than he did, she’d never officially say, but he’d overheard her complaints when she’d believed herself alone in her office. She was barely a few years older than he was, but as every day brought Michael closer to 18 the pressure on her mounted. He knew that the crown she wore was rightfully his, and the advisors had no intention of ever letting it sit on his head.

His father had not been of royal or noble stock, as far as the advisors had been concerned he muddied the royal bloodline. Michael couldn’t prove it, but he knew it was one of them that ordered the assassination of his mother, father and himself. It was the most vivid memory he had of his childhood, his mother forcing him into a servant's arms, begging her to get him somewhere safe.

They never found the assassin nor the man who’d hired them. It was brushed aside as they summoned his aunt, just old enough to take the throne, and crowned her queen. She’d told him from the start that the crown was rightfully his, and that one day the crown his mother had lived and died for would one day be his own.

His aunt had named him her heir the moment she had enough power over the council to do so, and she had no intention of ever having heirs of her own. She was just as furious as he was about how the death of her sister and brother-in-law was handled. Even more so when she learnt that she was to be crowned Queen rather than Queen Regent. It was a slight against her family and all they stood for.

“Your highness, her majesty is waiting for you to arrive.” Michael lifted his hands from the tie, nodding to the butler as he held open the doors. His personal bodyguards already waiting in the hallway for him to be ready.

Damian and Raymond fell into step behind him as he started walking towards the ballroom, taking as much time as he could in an effort to waylay the start of the ball, knowing that until he was there to escort his aunt nothing would happen.

“Michael! Come along.” He was forced to move quicker by his aunt, watching as she impatiently struggled with a pristine ballgown and swore under her breath. “Damn stupid-” He chuckled as he stopped as close to her as he could get, the ball gown puffing out at her waist and trailing along the floor either side of her. “I am certain your mother never wore these stupid gowns. I swear they are getting more and more outrageous.”

“Then outlaw them? You are queen after all.” She pulled a face at him as he offered her his arm.

“I’d rather wear the stupid gown than deal with those stuffy old men.” The entire corridor failed to stifle their laughter at the Queen’s description of the board of elders, and a grin pulled up at her lips, only to be lost as laughter abruptly stopped.

“When you are ready your majesty.” Two men, one standing either side of the door, straightened up as an elderly man walked up. “Your guests are growing impatient.” He added, reaching out to smooth the fabric of her gown. His aunt quickly wrapped her hand around Michael’s arm, nails digging into his arm as the advisor got too close for comfort.

“I was merely taking a moment to speak with my nephew.” She defended herself, sidestepping his next attempt to ‘fix’ her dress. “There are several suitors waiting out that door, all ready to become king, and all growing impatient with your intent to keep them waiting.” He didn’t bother to hide his irritation at the way the young queen was acting, but he dared not glare at her, instead directing his anger at the prince.

“If they cannot find in them patience to wait for a few moments, then clearly they are not fit enough to become King.” Queen Penelope responded in kind, nodding to the two men. They opened the door, allowing Michael to lead her from the room before anything else could be said.

Below them, everything was silent, the band ceasing their music as men and women alike bowed to the queen at the top of the grand staircase. They both waited a moment before starting the slow descent down, forced to take each step as Penelope struggled with her massive dress. A smile plastered on her face despite it all, and Michael knew he wouldn’t hear a word of complaint from her, at least, not until tomorrow.

Michael guided his aunt towards the first of those she would be forced to greet tonight, making his own introductions at his side until they could both escape and go their own ways.

They both did the moment they could, offering each other a nod as Michael turned towards the drinks, and her towards those in attendance that she called his friends.

He didn’t expect to crash into a beautiful blonde on his way there. Very few people ever visited the drinks table, especially when servants littered the room, catering to any whim they might have. But the blonde seemed to have been loitering there, stammering her apologies as her drink spilt all down his front.

“It's fine.” He reached around her to grab a few serviettes, offering her one before wiping away what liquid he could.

“No, I’m so sorry, I’m such a clutz.” She accepting the small piece of fabric, cleaning her drink off of the expensive necklace that covered her chest, before lifting it to wipe the liquid from beneath as well.

“It is certainly my fault, I should have paid more attention to where I was going.” He corrected, passing the wet serviettes to an awaiting servant.

“My father would insist that it would never be your fault my prince, but my own.” He finally got the chance to get a good look at her as she lifted her gaze to his.

Blonde curls framed her face, peaks of purple appearing in each of the twirled strands as they disappeared over her shoulder and ran down her back. Bright blue eyes were focused completely on him, even as his gaze dipped to the rest of her body, appreciating the way the strapless gown clung to her frame.

“Please call me Michael. After all, we are already well acquainted.” He motioned towards his wet shirt, a smile pulling up at her lips.

“Only if you will honour me by doing the same.” She countered, hand resting on the jewels around her neck as she glanced over his shoulder.

“I’m afraid I do not know your name.” Her lips turned down into a frown, and he wondered if he’d misspoken, maybe this was someone he was supposed to recognise.

“Excuse me, my sister is calling.” Her hand rested on his shoulder as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, walking away before he could apologise.

“Excuse me, your highness, another shirt and coat have been set aside for you. If you’ll follow me.” A servant distracted him from watching her for just a moment, and when he turned back again, she was gone.

After that, he only managed to catch glimpses of her. A flash of her hair as someone twirled her around the dancefloor, her soft voice as she spoke to someone who was nearby, but gone before he could escape his own conversation. It was enough to drive him mad.

He glanced around the room, trying to find her once more, only to land eyes on his aunt, shuffling slightly as she tried to make an excuse to leave the young man she was speaking with, only to fail. Her brown eyes landed on him, silently pleading for his help.

“Your majesty.” He complied, his hand resting on her elbow. The young man narrowed his eyes at him as the Queen made her excuses, and motioned for Michael to lead her away.

“Remind me never to allow him another invite, if I have to hear him prattle on about how rich and successful he is I will-” She grumbled quietly to him, a forced smile on her face as he lead her past lords and princes to the outdoor patio.

“Majesty.” A horrified female voice cut the Queen off before she could finish her threat.

“Shynai.” Penelope twisted out of Michael’s hold to pull the blonde haired woman into her arms. “I’m so glad you could make it.” Michael watched closely as the woman who had caught his interest interacted with his aunt like they were the oldest of friends.

“I couldn't deny you, Penny.” Shynai pulled out of the hug she’d happily returned. “So this would be him.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she pretended not to know the man she’d crashed into earlier.

“Indeed, Shynai, this is my nephew and heir, Crown Prince Michael. Michael this is Shynai Hunter, we meet at boarding school when we were younger.” Queen Penelope stepped aside to introduce her friend and nephew.

“Pleasure to meet you, my prince.” She bent her knees into a curtsey, straightening up just as quickly as she had dropped.

“Pleasure is all mine, Miss Hunter.” He recognised her last name, she shared it with his aunt's favourite lord and closest confident. The man she’d named her regent should anything happen to her before Michael reached 18. He thought he knew the man well, he and his family spent countless hours with him and his aunt. Yet apparently not well enough to have been introduced to his daughter. He knew his son and his daughter-in-law, but the blonde had never been mentioned.

“Please, call me Shynai. I do believe my brother was looking for you, my Prince, I promise to take good care of her majesty.” Michael glanced to his aunt, who waved him away, hooking her arm through Shynai’s and starting to walk further into the gardens.

Michael watched until the duo were out of sight, before turning to find James Hunter, maybe he could shed some light on the entire situation.

Kaelyn's Song

Heya Everyone, sorry I missed last week's post. I'm suffering from a massive case of writer's block that's being aided by my anti-depression medication. I'm currently in and out of appointments trying to find a work around, so please just bear with me, and my somewhat chaotic uploading schedule, as I attempt to get through this.

This was a song I wrote to go with one of my novels, Kaelyn is a twin, who watched her brother get shot dead in front of her. This is her favourite song and one that always makes her think of her brother.

Enjoy :)

When I think of Happiness, I think only of you.

When I think of Safety, I think only of you

When I needed protection, I went running to you

I wouldn’t be here without your firm attention

You gave me everything without saying a word.

You were always there for me, through thick and through thin

Now I’m here without you, supposed to carry on.

But here without you, I just don’t know how.

They say don’t cry, don't shed no more tears.

Leave the past in the past, move on and be free

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

When I think of strength, I remember the way that you smiled.

The way that you held my hand for always

When I think of loyalty, I remember your word, the promised you made

That you’ll never leave me alone

I never expected, I never would have dreamed, that one day I’d be here without you.

So lost without you by my side.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

Forced to Carry on, to carry your legacy,

to be the women that you’d always dreamed I’d be.

I'll live in your honour help and protect

Here without you, I'll never forget.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

I'll keep on breathing, breathing.

Dragon Rescue?

Heya Everyone, today I have two prompts that I combined. There might also be another part, but I'm still undecided on that, so let me know what you think?

Anyway, until next week. Enjoy :)

Prompt 1: What do spoiled and lazy monarchs do when they want to rescue a princess from their castle but don’t want to do it themselves? They hire you. Your company specialises in quick and efficient extractions for damsels in distress, for a price of course.

Prompt 2: Mumbling, the King looked away from his knight and muttered, “I need you to save the dragon… from my princess.”

Being the only child of a solo father was tough, tougher still when the young girl had been left motherless at birth, and even tougher when that solo father was also the King of a rather large kingdom.

Yet he’d embraced the challenge like it was nothing, juggling meetings with caring for his young daughter. Always making both his kingdom and daughter feel like they came first. He made it look easy, a role model for anyone else that faced the same challenge. He refused any extra help, turning down the child care experts that flocked to his palace. He only hired one young woman, someone to care for the child when he left the castle or attended late night parties, even then it was reluctant, his advisors forcing the help onto him. Every now and again he would need a child free night, stuck in meetings with foreign diplomats that would not stand for such a strong, free willed child running around the room.

As she aged he hired the best tutors for her, making sure she had the world at her fingertips. The king keeping her at his side while he dealt with basic day to day dealings, teaching her all she needed to know about the kingdom that would one day be hers.

She never lost the independence she gained by having a supportive loving father. Just as beautiful and clever as her mother. She had no need to sneak lessons with the training master, her father offering every opportunity that he would have given a son and heir.

So when a dragon threatened the far edges of their kingdom, neither royal hesitated to allow her to accompany the Army's best soldiers. She needed the confidence and learning that would come from a real battle, and her father had more than enough faith in her and the men and woman from his royal guard that accompanied her.

It was why we were so shocked to receive an urgent summons to the King's Palace. It was rare that we were called after a party had been sent out. We specialised in taking care of dragons on a kingdoms behalf, those that didn’t have the faith nor confidence in their own armies to take care of it. Though the commoners often call us on behalf of their lazy, spoilt monarchs who couldn’t bear the thought of parting with their own coins to rid themselves of a dragon. We are the best damsel in distress rescue company anywhere in the nine kingdoms.

But of course, it was not within our policy to refuse anyone, not when innocent lives were at stake. So we raced over, sending our two best agents to assist her royal highness. I was one of them, and you, the other.

It seemed routine, we were raced up to the King's private audience room, servants and guards alike all seeming to be panicked and worried. The King pulled us out of bows before we could drop into them, waving off formality as he paced back and forth across the room.

That was when I heard the strangest thing I have ever heard in all my years of service, and I honestly don’t think you believed your ears either. It was barely more than a mumble that past his lips, getting lost in the crackling of the fire and soft breeze through the open window.

It sounded like he was asking us to save the dragon, from his princess. It took him repeating the request a few more times for either of us to fully understand. No one had ever asked us to save a dragon before. Normally they asked us to vanquish or rehome the giant creature, but saving one?

“Look, my daughter is... awesome, and head strong, and independent, but that Dragon is an idol to the villagers. A god of some sorts. If the Princess kills that Dragon we have a revolt on our hands. We need some sort of peace treaty between the Dragon and the crown, but to do that, you first must save the Dragon.” I quote, directly, I don’t think either of us will ever forget those words, the day when we were begged to rescue the very things we were trained to get rid of.

The Day You Sold Your Soul.

Heya Everyone, I found a prompt online and started to work on it, but the start’s turned up being really long, so I’m breaking it down into to two parts. Today, the day you sold your soul, next week will be the actual prompt, the day you get your soul back. See you then!

Enjoy :)

Prompt: You sold your soul to the devil years ago, today he gives it back and says, I need a favour.

It had been an easy decision, a tall handsome man approaching you at the bar, your favourite drink in hand and a smile on his lips. Handsome as sin, you should have known something was different about him. The choice he offered was one that you didn't hesitate to take. Your soul for whatever wish you could dream up. You didn't believe in souls, to begin with, and bargaining with something you didn't believe in for something that probably wouldn't happen to begin with.

You asked for some time to decide what your 'soul' was worth, and it was freely given. Him buying you more drinks while you thought about and tossed out each idea that slowly crossed your mind, idea's getting more and more ridiculous with each drink that crossed your lips.

"Have you decided yet?" You paused, your glass resting against your lips.

"I want the ability to go into any book and movie I want, and live as any character I choose." You answered, putting your glass down and turning your full attention to him. He frowned, his own fingers tapping against his glass. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all, just not one we normally get. Most humans ask to be rich, or famous, or get the love of their love. The rare time we get someone selling their soul to save the life of the loved one. Your wish is... different, but not impossible." He produced a file from his jacket pocket, and a pen, opening it, flicking to a page and writing down exactly what it was you wished for. "Just sign on the dotted line and it's done. You give me your soul, and I grant you your wish."

"Done." you took the pen from his hand and signed your name, sliding the paperwork back towards him.

"All done, when you wake up tomorrow you'll have your wish."

"That's it, kinda anticlimactic don't you think?" He frowned, glancing around the crowded bar, before turning his attention back to me.

"Can't draw any attention, this isn't a deal we like to make with just anyone, we like a certain calibre of souls. Your's fit the bill." He brought you one last drink, before ripping the paper you'd signed in half. The pages magically fixing themselves into two copies of the document.

"A copy for you, and one for us. Refunds are not allowed unless under dire terms, make sure you read the terms and conditions. There can be some nasty side effects if you don't follow the rules exactly." He stood, walking away without any more than a goodbye.

When you awoke the next morning, all that felt different was a raging hangover. Barely able to open your eyes, you stumbled towards the kitchen, hands blindly searching for the box of painkillers you'd thrown on the kitchen bench before heading to bed the night before.

You stopped when your hands fell on a heavy stack of papers, opening your eyes wide enough to read the blood red cursive across the top, 'Soul Contract'.

Your search for painkillers was forgotten as you sat down on a stool and pulled the stack of paper towards you. It couldn't be real could it? Souls didn't exist, so how could you have sold yours? Did that mean you had whatever silly wish you'd asked for? It was easy to believe that it was a dream, your alcohol inhibited mind making up some strange story as you slept off the hangover you'd caused yourself by getting way too drunk.

It couldn't be real, but still, your fingers ran across the pages as if you could smug the lettering off or prove it wasn't real.

Does this mean you could jump worlds whenever you wanted? Take the place of your favourite characters and live the way they could? What happened if you died as one? Would it affect you here, would you die in both worlds? How would you even change worlds, to begin with? How would any of it affect you?

You pulled the book closer towards you, flipping open the first page. He had said it was the terms and conditions, surely it would have to hold some of the answers you sought. You paused before reading, looking out over the counter to grab the painkillers. You'd need a clear mind to even begin trying to understand what was going on, and that meant coffee, and a notepad.

You didn't notice the passage of time as you read, hand alternating between scrawling notes across the note page and lifting the cooling coffee to your lips. Forced to try make sense of everything you saw before you before even daring to try it out. You didn't believe it could be true, but you liked your life far more than to just try without researching first. But the book held nothing more than a long list of warnings that could void the contract, and cost you much more than just the soul you'd sold.

That meant it was up to you, you had to figure this out for yourself. You put the contract aside, getting up to pick up your favourite book from the shelf where it had pride of place. Automatically opening it to your favourite scene, the one where the heroine realised her feelings for the person she'd sworn never to fall for. Where she decided to throw away everything she thought was right, and everything she'd worked so hard for to give love a chance. It didn't bother you that it was near the end of the book. You'd read it so many times, imagining your life if you were in her situation, imagining things you'd do differently, dreaming someone could one day inspire a love in you to do what she had.

If there was any world you wanted to live in, it was this one.

You glanced down at the book, eyes scanning the first few lines, wondering if that was how the thing started. But reading the first few lines did nothing, nor did the next few paragraphs. You tried something different, letting your eyes fall closed as you imagined the entire scene as you knew it played out. When you opened them again, you were still standing in your apartment, staring at a bookshelf packed to the brim with stories you'd loved and read countless times.

You sighed, putting the book back on the shelf and turning back to slump on the couch. This was all some elaborate prank, someone taking advantage of the face you were a sucker for a pretty face. One of your friends hiring a cute actor or model to approach you at the bar, buy you a few drinks and trick you into thinking you'd sold your soul for some awesome deal. You loved magic tricks, always falling for them, and no doubt that was what the contract ripping thing was about, a clever illusion tricking you into thinking he'd achieved some impossible feat.

You closed your eyes, now you'd wasted an entire morning reading a fake document and being excited about powers you didn't have. No proper heroine would ever fall for that, especially not-

"Sarah?" Your eyes snapped open, the soft velvety voice that spoke didn't speak your name it spoke hers, your favourite heroines.

This time it wasn't your apartment you opened your eyes, instead, it was a bedroom. A red feature wall on the opposite side of the room, highlighting the dark wood four poster bed, that had matching red drapes hanging from it. A plush shaggy black carpet running all the way up and underneath the bed. You reached out, hands brushing against black silk sheets, before falling onto a red duvet.

You knew this room, it was one you'd always imagined, but never quite been able to capture.

"Sarah, what are you doing here?" You glanced down, and it wasn't your body you saw. Long fingers had been perfectly manicured, a similar shade to that which coloured the wall behind the bed. Legs far longer than yours were curled underneath the long shirt you wore, and you couldn't help but run your fingers up perfectly shaved legs, before gripping onto the pure white shirt that covered just enough, buttons undone just one too many, cleavage fully on display.

You didn't remember this part of the book, Sarah would never let herself be this undressed, not in his company. It was strange, out of character, and you had no idea how to react.

"Seriously Sarah, I said the blue room, you know this room is where that scene's going to happen later on. You can't expect me to keep a straight face, not when I've seen you dressed so-" He stopped talking, hand waving towards you as if he'd forgotten word to describe your undressed state.

"Scene?" What did he mean scene, and why was he so comfortable with Sarah? They were supposed to hate each other's guts, be working against each other with seemingly opposite endings to near the end of the novel when they realised they were working towards the same goal, when Sarah's feelings of love overwhelmed and they acknowledged what was growing between them. This... this wasn't anywhere in the novel.

"You know, tomorrow morning, when you 'sneak' in here to steal some information and I 'catch' you in the act. Come on babe, we have precious few hours hidden behind the chapter break, you're wasting it with these questions." Your eyes widened as he stepped closer, he was shirtless, abs seeming to glisten in the bedroom lights. Black pants wrapped around his legs, bare feet sliding through the carpets.

His hand was not as soft as you imagined, callouses on his hand brushing against your wrist as he pulled you upright, his other hand wrapping around your waist. His lips pressing down against yours, your eyes closed, kissing him back before you realised what you were doing.

This was so strange, it wasn't supposed to happen. Sarah was supposed to hate his guts, not show up in his bed, barely dressed and wanting more from him than was ever written within the book.

So you pulled back, hands pressed against his chest and forcing him away. He barely moved, loosening his grasp so he could look down at you.

"Sarah, what's wrong?" His hand came up to stroke down your cheek, tangling in your hair as he leant down to rest his forehead against yours. "Is this about that fight? I know you hate pretending to hate me, but it's what makes for a good story. It's what we were created to do." You moved your head off of his, pressing your head against his chest, eyes squeezing shut. This wasn't what you wanted, nor what you had expected. You never imagined that the characters would have a life of their own outside of the story, that they would be aware of what was going on. This wasn't right.

"The creator is going to be so pissed if you don't stick to the plan love." His lips pressed to the top of your head, arms wrapping securely around your waist.

You started falling forward, eyes opening wide to find yourself back in your apartment, forced to catch yourself before you smashed down face first onto the floor. Everything had been so much different than you'd expected, you still had no idea what to think nor plan. You had expected to find yourself in a scene you knew well, planning to play along with what was going to happen with what you'd read.

If this was what the rest of your life would be like, you’d have to adjust, and quickly.