Monthly Archives: October 2005
Protected: Happy Birthday to my Beloved Husband (locked and visible only to all_forme)
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Talk about something you did that made you feel ashamed of yourself afterwards.
I don’t understand the question. There is no shame in me, so how can anything I have done cause shame within me? I do what must be done and I make no apologies for it.
I have been told I need to be ashamed for being half-Fae, or half-Human. I have often been told that that I need to somehow be ashamed of doing what I have done in my life. I should be ashamed of having killed my foster mother, having usurped her position and ultimately the Throne itself. I should also be ashamed for loving who I do because of who he is and the wickedness that he has done. I should also then be ashamed of willingly becoming the mother of his children. I should be ashamed of the tears I have shed, the lies I’ve told, the violence I have incited in order to protect me and mine.
There is no part of me that is ashamed. If anything I am proud of myself because I still live. He still lives. We still live. We survive. I am not ashamed of anything. I am proud of that – of my accomplishments. And yes, I am most proud of my husband. Proud to say that no other man has ever made me want to utter one single word – one promise.
“Yours.” No man can call me ‘his’, save one.
I am unrepentant because there is nothing for which I am ashamed.
Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythos / Meta
Word Count: 242
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Prompt #2 Acceptable Losses
This is a story recounted to me. I re-tell it here because it has direct bearing on the subject matter.
*****
The serving woman Jasmina grovelled on the floor before the Kizlar Aga. The aged matron sobbed pathetically at his feet, wrapping her fingers around his silken slippers, her tears flowing over his feet. With a sigh of exasperation he offered a hand to the old woman.
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Who Do You Miss The Most?
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What is your favourite thing to do to relax?
There are always a number of things I do to relax. I spend time in the gardens among the herbs and sometimes I sit with Sebastien underneath the Mimosa tree and tell him stories of our homeland. He looks up at me with sleepy, amorous eyes and hands me violets and lily of the valley that he’s just picked from beneath the tree.
But among my most favourites are spending a quiet evening in the library at home after dinner. The fire warms the entire room with the soft crackle and the scent of alder wood is not nearly as welcome or as fragrant as the whiskey cured tobacco that my consort, Sebastien, has taken in a pipe. There are always books and wine, and warmth. And somewhere in that time there is always the inevitability of skin touching skin. Breath mingles to reveal more skin, consuming each other in the rising tide of forgetting absolutely everything outside of that very moment. The world stands still and the only mark of time is the rhythm of the ticking of the clock on the mantle, of breath, stroke and soft sighs.
That to me is relaxation.
Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore/ Mythology
Word Count: 218
Crossposted to
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Vintage Muses Prompt # 1 – “I don’t believe you.”
“You’ve brought me a gift, haven’t you?” Fergus asked me. His voice was matter of fact, rather than confrontational, “And of course you made sure that she is pliable for our purposes.”
“Of course,” I replied, hoping that he did not see through me to the lie I’d just told, “You can count on me, Fergus.”
The Fae are not the sort to discuss our plans, especially when we are at war. Not now, and definitely not with Fergus. I ignored his questions and let the silence hang between us. But it was clear that he was not going to let the matter drop.
I don’t believe you, Faelyn
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Forgiveness…
You’re asking whom do I need to forgive? Oh, I assure you, I forgive and without hesitation absolutely everyone whose has ever wronged me. That is I do after they afford me the proper recompense or I may exact payment of my choosing and by my own hand. I doubt that those who met with my ire were so forgiving as I, am. This is especially true when I would watch their life seep from their bodies in an ever-widening pool of blood around them.
The methods of forgiveness have been wide and varied.
I certainly forgave Morgienne for the murder of my mother, even as I gave her a loving (albeit poisoned) cup at her bedside. Only moments after I watched her life ebb from her eyes, I declared myself High Lady of the Fortunate Island and ceded to myself all land and authority thereof. My forgiving nature was underscored as I watched her funeral pyre burn in the Temple courtyard, and at the very same moment her name was being stricken from all monuments and record bearing her name. Death a second time was no pain for her and certainly release for me. I forgave her completely as I consigned her soul to nothingness, and insured that in the Seven Realms of Existence, it would be as if she never had been. My frustration and hatred of the woman was at last expunged. This heavy weight removed, I felt lighter and freer.
I forgave Prince Itet his treachery against King Nuada and myself even as the Seelie Guards drug him away in chains and he spat his final curses at me. Why, I even blew a kiss in the direction of his head that hung prominently upon the city gates. It was so very hard for me to find enjoyment at the revel that followed that very evening. Such was the measure of my grief and sentiment. Poor Itet! Such a grievous end, alas.
No, I have no problem with forgiveness. None whatsoever.
Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 334
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Life Belongs to Sekhmet 