#(my parents banned me from going to graves unless for visitation)

[seneon]

I went on a hike on my school trip ( we’re going back home rn Yayy ) and we went to a graveyard like rahhhh. it was kinda sad but I’m now obsessed w headstone carvings bc they’re so gorgeous

HOPE YOU HAD FUNN

[sugar-coated-prat-dragon]

Title: Morgana grew up blaming Uther for her fathers death, details on her attempted kidnapping by Hengist and other questions (part #1)

Episode: To Kill the King

Questions by @tansyuduri

Tagging: @miyriu

Question: Arthur is clearly past the age of majority after season 1, but unless ward means is very different in Camalot. Then being a ward means Morgana has not yet reached that age?

My answer: In the “Valiant” book, Morgana mentions several times that Uther is her ‘guardian’.

Yet, we also know that in season three ‘The Crystal Cave’ that Merlin refers to Gaius as his “guardian” to Uther and since Merlin was born only a few months after the magic ban, we know that he can’t be a minor at that point.

Merlin was likely around 19 years old (give or take) when he came to Camelot and that means that calling someone a guardian doesn’t necessarily mean they are a minor.

It likely just means that they (Gaius and Uther, respectively) promised their parents they’d watch out for them. (Gaius promised Hunith and Uther promised Gorlois).

Therefore, Morgana would have the status of Uther’s “ward” her entire life, because that is her status in the family and not simply a title to reflect her age.

Book description: Uther glanced back at the girl's face, set in stubborn disagreement. He didn't like arguing with Morgana - after all, she was his ward, the child he'd taken into his care when her father died.

Morgana could tell that her guardian was almost as impressed by this knight as she was.

Valiant bowed low as Uther turned back to the line of waiting knights. With her guardian's attention elsewhere, Morgana held out a slender hand. Valiant kissed it gently, his eyes never leaving her own.

Question: Does the bribery have anything to do with Camalot guards being so bad?

My answer: I don’t think it’s only that the Camelot guards that are bad, but rather that some people don’t know how to keep information to themselves and gossip too much.

For example in the “Lancelot and Guinevere” book, it mentions that there are others in the kingdom (like the girl who works in the bakery and was supposed to collect provisions for Morgana’s pilgrimage) that was the cause of the abduction.

The girl at the bakery had loose lips and told the wrong people that Morgana was going to visit her father’s grave, which ended up leading to the kings ward getting kidnapping.

Book description: 'Information has reached me from Camelot,' said Kendrick.

Kendrick nodded. 'I am told that a pilgrimage is being planned. Only a short trip, but it will take the lady in question far beyond the protective walls of the castle and to the very edge of your dominion.'

'She will be well protected,' mused Hengist, the first prickle of excitement running up and down his spine.

Kendrick shook his head. 'One or two knights, perhaps some soldiers,' he said.

'And how do you know all this?"

'A girl who works in the bakery. She has heard talk, and has been instructed to gather provisions. Only a little food, for they do not plan to be gone for long.' Hengist turned, a broad smile on his face. 'And you suggest we rob the party of their clothing and coin?'

Question: Vivianne is barly ever mentioned, not even by Morgana. I always wondered if she died in childbirth with Morgana or when she was really young. I'll keep my eyes peeled for more on this?

My answer: In “The Magic Begins” book, Uther remembers how he had taken Morgana into his care when her father died and we know she came to live with in the castle when she was ten years old.

So I think it’s safe to assume that her mother died when she was a young child and her father was her only living family.

Book description:

A repeat description from the first picture I posted on this thread: Uther glanced back at the girl's face, set in stubborn disagreement. He didn't like arguing with Morgana - after all, she was his ward, the child he'd taken into his care when her father died.

Question: Merlin's comment of everyone hating Uther also needs to be looked at, because it means the people DO hate Uther?

How many people has he spoken to? Has he spoken to many of the everyday people of the kingdom? Has he overheard knights? | REALLY WANT TO KNOW?

My answer: In the book “Poisoned Chalice”, Gwen herself thought about how Uther had managed to instill such a dread of magic in his subjects that 'witch hunts' could flare up at the drop of a pointed hat.

Although she noted these ‘witches’ were usually a poor old lady with a cat who acted a bit ‘oddly’.

Still, Gwen (even as kind hearted as she is) is not immune to the effects of the magic-ban paranoia and could personally understand why Uther hated magic and outlawed its use as she watched Merlin suffering through the sorceress’s poison. ☠️

In the book, “The Mark of Nimueh”, Merlin noted how the townsfolk cowered on their doorsteps as the guards searched the houses with long, threatening spears and kicked down doors to do their searches.

Book description: It was like some of the insane accusations that were occasionally made in the villages, and even in the city, whenever some poor old lady - usually someone with a cat - behaved a bit oddly. Uther had managed to instil such a dread of magic in his subjects that 'witch hunts' could flare up at the drop of a pointed hat.

But Gaius would never declare such a thing lightly.

Magic was a dangerous and powerful thing, and if magic had done this to Merlin, well, Gwen understood more than ever why Uther hated it so and had outlawed its use.

Merlin turned to him. "It's a just a frail old woman who sell bread in the market, he said. 'I’ve e spoken to her loads of times. No way is she a sorceress!"

As they moved away, Merlin could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, It had to be more of Uther's soldiers, their boots pounding the stony streets as they marched in unison.

The platoon suddenly rounded a corner, heading straight towards them, each guard carrying a long, threatening spear. As they stomped along the street, the townsfolk quickly got out of their way, cowering in doorways.

Question: I AM TOTALLY calling my earlier theory as the truth now. Uther gained the throne of Camalot during a sucession crisis.

My answer: The “Complete Guide” mentions that Uther took his kingdom by force.

And the “Heroes Guide” claims Uther did not inherit the throne, but made himself king by conquering all opponents and bringing peace to the land.

Book description: Since Uther took power in Camelot, he has worked hard to make his kingdom the most powerful and influential in the realm.

Uther took his kingdom by force, and lives with the constant threat that it may be taken from him in the same way.

“Heroes” book: Uther did not inherit the throne, but made himself king by conquering all opponents and bringing peace to the land.

Question: Morgana became Uther's ward likley when she was 10. Also Uther says she fought him from the begining. I wonder if this was her grief exploding out or what she fought him about?

Was it always about killing people? Was she a childhood trouble maker? Did she not want to be the kind of Lady Uther expected her to be?

My answer: In the early seasons, a part of Morgana thinks of Uther as a father because he raised her and yet the other part holds him responsible for Gorlois’s death.

So Morgana as a child was likely torn between grieving and trying to accept her newfound life as a pampered young lady in a royal court.

Morgana’s page in the complete guide support this by mentioning that “Uther hasn't found it easy to look after such a strong-willed girl” ...

Book description: Morgana into his care and made her his ward - a lady of Camelot. But Morgana has never been content to live the life of a passive, pampered lady, and the king hasn't found it easy to look after such a strong-willed girl ...

The complete guide states… “Morgana struggles with her emotions towards Uther. He has given her a home and cared for her, treating her as he would a daughter of his own, and part of her thinks of him as a father. But she holds him responsible for her own father's death and cannot forget everything that has been taken from her. Morgana finds the king's attitudes frustrating.”

[amydiddle-fanfiction]

Moony: Curse of the Full Moon

A curious three year old boy, a grudge against a name, and the watchful moon’s silent gaze. The 27th of February,1964 the full moon shone down on a small house in Wales and a curse was brought upon the family that would change them forever. Remus John Lupin, only a small child when everything was taken from him and his family. Now the threat isn’t on the outside; it is him.

Note from The Author: This is a story I started back at the end of the my sophomore year of high school. It centers around Remus Lupin, a poor boy that had a terrible curse thrust upon him. When I started to write it, my motivation had been the fact that I really loved Lupin and I wanted to get background before I thrust him into a story about the Wizarding War.

Most of my original ideas have been lost to time but I am trying to pick it up again. This collection is the first three ‘books’ as the younger me dubbed them. The Bite, First Year, and Second Year. I have gone back through the chapters and edited/rewrote them to live up to my current writing level.

READ THE ORIGINAL VERSION HERE: FF.NET SLOWLY BEING RESTART VERSION HERE: Ao3

Moony: Book 1 - Chapter 3

Saint Mungo’s Hospital London, England March 1964

After Remus’s birthday, the young boy found himself in a pretty standard routine. He would wake up early and take the required potions, eat breakfast, wander around the floor he was one, be checked up on his nurse, his mother or father would visit and they would have lunch together, visit Lucy, go back to the room for a little bit of rest, have dinner and his potions, and go to sleep.

Things started to change when the week of the moon drew closer.

The young boy started to notice strange things happen around the hospital. A lot of the medi-witches and wizards had started to avoid him. He could pick up on small whispers of conversations they would have without them realizing he was close enough to hear them. Sometimes he would catch him giving dirty looks to his back.

He did not understand why they would do that.

The memory of his first night in the hospital had become a blur. His mind had deleted the completely lunacy that he could be such a terrible creature. There was no proof of any change into the monster of his childhood stories.

A werewolf was a terrifying beast that was clever enough to hide amongst its prey. The monster had a bloodthirsty need to hurt people, take children, and would not stop to make people miserable. Even when in their human disguise the werewolf was a terrible creature.

Remus being a werewolf was impossible. He still thought the same, and walked the same, and talked the same. He did not want to hurt anyone. He merely just wanted someone to play with. The most ruthless thing that Remus had ever done was kill a few flies that got into the house and even than he preferred to catch them and let them go outside.

People just could not see that and as the twenty-first dawned Remus’ routine was changed.

Paranoia was a powerful force and spread through the hospital as the dreaded day got close. Any of his usual wanders around the hospital were banned unless he had his parents or a healer with him.

The first time he got this new ruling the child had not listened. Remus had tried to leave on his own but was found not five steps away from his room and brought back. Now, with his parents only coming for a short time Remus found most of his days to be spent stuck in his room.

It was boring, stifling, and just plain maddening. The child only had a few things to entertain himself with. By the third day of being confined to his bed he had flipped through the story book ten times. Remus was sure he could describe each picture on every page perfectly to anyone if they asked. Maybe even tell them a few of the stories that were not too complicated for him to read.

The book did only so much for a distraction.

The longer he spent in his room the more it felt like the too white walls were closing in on him. He could feel them get closer and closer to him with each passing day. The threat of them closing in on him driving him up the very looming threat that wanted to squash him.

Normally the thing to be blamed would be just his toddler attention span but there was something else at work and it all had to do with the moon.

The ever-growing moon had started to have a weird pull on him. He could feel it in chest at night, something being swayed by the mysterious force. The child had taken to closing the thing curtains in the room to try and avoid the rays.

Remus had discovered a trouble sleeping. The child would lay awake at night and stare at the ceiling. His healer called his trouble sleeping insomnia and that is was normal this close to the day. Remus just wanted to stop being grouchy and for it to be more of a concern.

Other things that had been weird since this week started had been his change of taste. He had been given a hamburger for lunch once and refused to eat it because it tasted overcooked.

His eyesight had gotten better and made it hard to sleep at night because the room did not seem as dark as it should be. Remus could hear the whispers the healers and nurses said clearly as if they were talking to him and he could smell the weird sent that was potions brewing. It was not the most appetizing sent.

It scared him, these changes. The more he noticed the more he wanted them to stop. When he brought this fear up to his healer the man just assured him that they were natural things to happen for his ailment and not to worry.

But the man was worrying, Remus could tell. Even if these things were natural they were something to worry about for some reason. The healer was just as scared as Remus, if not more.

The healer was scared of him.

28 March, 1964

Remus Lupin awoke that morning with a great ache over his body. The whole week had been full of small aches and pains but this was all that magnified to a higher extent. Every muscle seemed to ache and his stomach was tied in knots.

He felt ready to throw up, like the time he got the flu. He wished his mother was here now to nurse him back to health.

The child rolled over onto his side and groaned a little at the shocks of pain that sent over his body. Any attempt to sit up and greet that day was stopped when the world around him began to spin just because he lifted his head a little.

When the nurse came in to give him his potions and breakfast Remus tried to turn it down. He could barely down the potions fully and the little bit of toast he managed to swallow quickly began to crawl its way to freedom.  He did not care when the nurse left in a hurry with a still very full plate of food.

Remus did not even care about the complete silence out in the hallway of his room. He just wanted to sleep and with the potions help he did just that. His dreams were filled with a fearful rush to get away from a looming danger he could not see.

His feet ran and ran but the danger seemed to get closer and closer. He could feel the bright light of something getting brighter and closer. The child pushed through the obstacles in his way but he did could not get away. It was practically on top of him. He felt himself trip. It was here-

Remus woke up with a start. The sharp pain of his body from whatever sickness was in his system ignored because the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Sweat plastered his sandy hair to his forehead and he looked around to room in fear that the bright thing that had been chasing him was nowhere to be seen.

The only thing off about this too white room was the fact his door was opened and his healer had stepped inside. The man carried a plate and had a grave look on his face.

“Did not mean to wake up,” he said, “But it is good I did. I have somethings I want to talk about before tonight.”

The man set the plate down on the table at the end of the bed and sat on the edge of the bed with some hesitation. He did not look directly at the child but he could already tell the effects of the moon were settling in.

The four-year-old was as pale as a ghost and there were beads of sweat that ran down from his forehead. The poor child’s hands shook with unknown fear under the blanket where he had hidden them. He watched the man expectantly; not saying a word.

“I wanted…I wanted you to understand what is going to happen tonight,” the man explained carefully.

Remus continued to be silent. His wide brown eyes now had a ring of amber that held the hidden power the child was about to unlock. The healer could not look into them because he felt like something else was watching him.

“Tonight, I am going to take you to a place where it will be safe to change,” the healer explained. He chose his words carefully to the child could understand, “Some place where there is no way you can hurt anyone.”

He paused and looked away from the child fully.

“The transformation will be…painful. There is no way for me to ease that pain but I know you can push through it. You are a tough boy coming this far.”

The healer changed a glance over at the child and the boy had seemingly gone paler. His little body trembled under the fear of the situation he was in.

“I want to go home,” Remus whimpered and wiped away at the tears that had started to form in his eyes.

The healer sighed heavily and looked at his shoes. He had dealt with many Lycanthropy cases before. Most where older wizards and witches whose jobs were to go after the beasts. Those people had understood the gravity of the situation. Most had taken the better path once they learned of their ailment and ended it there before the pain of the first moon could come.

This child was too young to understand what was going to happen. All Remus J. Lupin knew was that he was sick and he was hurting. All Remus understood was that he wanted to go home to the two people he trusted to make the pain go away. He could not fathom that once this pain started it would never stop. That he would be a slave to the moon forever.

The healer thought over what he needed to say in response to the child carefully before he responded.

“Once tonight it over you will be going home.”

“Promise?”

Remus clung to that hope quickly. The healer knew he would. The man nodded and forced himself to look over at the child on the bed.

“I promise,” the man said simply and stood up from the bed. He grabbed the plate and Remus could see it had a few slices of toast on it. “Now eat this and get some more rest. You will need it.”

Carefully the man handed over the plate. Once Remus had it in his hands the man left without another word and Remus was left in that too white room, alone, once again.

The child watched the door silently after the healer left for about a minute. In that short span of time the fear and dread that circled his heart turned into a boiling sea of rage. He wanted to go home now. He wanted to stop feeling so sick.

The child threw the plate to the floor and watched as the plate shattered into pieces and the toast hit the ground. The rage left the moment the ringing of the broken plate stopped in the room. Tears started to form once again in the boy’s eyes.  

“I wanna go home,” he whimpered and pulled his knees to his chest. “I wanna go home.”

Night drew closer and closer. With every hour that passed Remus just felt sicker and dinner had not been an option. As twilight approached Remus had decided that he was not going to move from his bed. The child was very disappointed that his plans were foiled when his healer pulled him from bed just as the sun began to set.

He threw a tantrum as he was led out of the room. His little heals did their best to dig into the slick floor but the fight was useless. He would not be spending the night in his room. The floor was cold on his bare feet and his stomach twisted terribly with every step.

The tears dried up as they entered the stairwell and started to travel down. He had never been down this passage before and curiosity took over the need to throw a fit. A few sniffles left him as he looked around.

There were a few windows in the stairwell as they traveled down it. Every time Remus got a glimpse outside the sky seemed to be a little darker and something seemed to stir in his chest. It sent a terribly shiver down his spine which made the aches more painful.

The windows ended as soon as they passed the ground floor and left the stairwell to enter a dark, cold basement. Torches were the only light source down there and only lit as they walked past them. The fire did not seem to make the place any warmer.

Their destination was a room at the end of the long stretch of obvious storage. With a flick of the healer’s wand the door opened and he led Remus inside. The child tried to look around but the man let go of his hand and held the boy firmly by his thin shoulders.

“You have to be brave,” the healer said, “This is going to be very difficult but you are tough. I know you can handle this.”

Remus stared at him with wide eyes full of fear. Handle what? What was happening?

The man gave no answer as he got up and left the room before Remus could get a word in. The door closed behind him with the defining click of a lock.

The simple click of the lock seemed to echo in Remus’ ear drums. It made him snap out of the frozen fear of swirling questions and bolt for the door. He must have misheard it. The man could not just lock him away. His mother and father would never allow that to happen.

He got to the door quickly and pulled on the handle only to find it would not budge. He tried it again; pulled on it, pushed the door; even kicked it. But he could not get it open.

The dark walls of this room felt so confining. He needed out. He needed his mother.

“Please! Please let me out! Mummy! Help! Let me out!”

Tears had started to fall down his face again as he pulled on the door desperately. The child all but screaming for help into the empty air. The scream of words only morphed into one of true pain as a sharp spike seemed to go through his chest.

That spike only bloomed into a burning sensation that spread outward to take over his whole body. The scream of agony got worse and more tears fell as he crumbled to the ground. It felt like his flesh was on fire. Like all his bones were breaking and being put back together.

Words were no longer an option as he curled up into a ball and his nails dug into his arms to try and get this terrible pain to stop.

Outside the room the healer stood with a blank expression on his face as the basement echoed with the small child’s screams. He took in a shaky breath and raised his wand. With a flick of a wrist the basement became silent as the man put a silencing charm on the room.

He stood there for another moment in the silence before he put a calming charm on the room as well.

With nothing else to do he moved to leave the basement. With every step the man sent a silent prayer up to whomever could hear that in the morning Remus Lupin would still be alive.

[francescaswords]

Chapter Two | The Princess and the Dragon and Other Stories About Unlikely Heroes

Prologue / Chapter One / Chapter Three

Read Chapter Four (and the rest) on my Patreon

‘Lovely fish soup, Dad,’ Amelia ventured, as she sat down to dinner with her parents later that evening. The family ate in the ancient, drafty castle kitchen. Ever since the head chef and kitchen staff moved away to find jobs in more prosperous parts of the Three Kingdoms, her father assumed the role of castle cook. Amelia could see zero olives, which meant he was having a good day. After his stroke, Amelia took on most of his responsibilities so Queen Hazel didn’t need to double her workload, but he insisted on running the kitchen. Across the table, her mother attacked a loaf of bread and tried not to raise her eyebrows. Amelia dipped her spoon into the bowl. ‘Wow. I can really smell… garlic?’ King Emmanuel was an enthusiastic chef, but the people of the Kingdom of Mirrors generally survived on what they could afford, which was bread and olives. There are a great variety of ways to serve bread and olives, but they all require imagination, which King Emmanuel ran out of around the same time his teenage daughter took over his job.

‘Garlic is the only thing that makes the fish seem fresh,’ her father said sadly. ‘I mean, er, it is fresh. Of course. It came from the harbour… yesterday.’ Amelia knew it had come from the harbour a week ago because she was the one who went out with the kingdom’s little fleet of fishing boats to see what was left in the sea after so many years of the Sapphire Dragon helping himself to its fish. She also knew how much effort it took for her father to be able to stand at the kitchen counter at all, so she tucked in.

As they ate, the family went through the day’s business. ‘As you know, Emmanuel, Queen Margaret sent messengers last week to remind us we owe another portion of loan repayment,’ Queen Hazel said, ‘but Amelia managed to persuade her to give us until the winter solstice.’ Amelia was surprised at Queen Margaret’s leniency. King Emmanuel had put off asking Stormhaven for money until after the Midsummer Riots because no one did business with Margaret de Winter unless they wanted to spend the rest of their lives feeling like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. Stormhaven was the richest of the Three Kingdoms, and its ancient matriarch ruled with a personality far colder than her name.

Queen Margaret travelled all the way south when Amelia was small; Amelia’s abiding memory of the visit was the elderly monarch’s icy stare and enormous fur coat, which she insisted on wearing even as the midday sun melted windows and one of her servants fainted from heatstroke. Amelia never saw Margaret emit a bead of sweat. Rumour had it that she slept with a dagger under her pillow, had locked one of her nephews in a dragon-guarded tower and planned to rule from beyond the grave via an Ouija board and set of tarot cards, despite a kingdom-wide ban on magic use. Amelia believed every rumour.

‘How much does Margaret want for this installment, exactly?’ King Emmanuel asked. He had his daughter’s wide brown eyes and awkward shoulders and when they smiled, they were copies of one another: all teeth and lots of dimples. Neither of them had smiled recently, and although Emmanuel was only fifty, he could have passed for Amelia’s grandfather.

‘She has demanded five hundred gold bars,’ Amelia replied. ‘Unfortunately, we have zero gold bars. Do you think she would take the equivalent weight in olives?’ she asked. She was only half joking. The Kingdom of Mirrors’ olives were famous throughout the Three Kingdoms and the nation’s most popular export. Just last year Amelia traded a quarter of the state’s olive oil stock for a thousand cattle from the Valley of Dreams.

‘The only language Margaret speaks is money,’ her mother sighed. She sipped some soup, winced, then looked at the table. ‘Of course, Amelia, Queen Margaret would be very happy to marry you to one of her sons or grandsons.’

‘No.’ Amelia said flatly.

‘Amelia…’ her father began.

‘No.’ Amelia uncovered an olive and stabbed it. ‘How many times do I have to say no? You can’t just marry me off to clear our debt!’

Her parents did not mention that they could. Nor did they mention that her older brother had been happy to marry himself off until fate threw him off course. They didn’t need to.

‘Oh, we’ve had another message from the merpeople,’ her mother added. ‘The dragon has taken two more children this summer. Parents are starting to move north to safer waters.’

‘That’s all we need,’ Amelia groaned. ‘Half the population of merpeople in the harbour won’t make life difficult for anyone. ‘

‘They’ve suffered as much as we have,’ Hazel pointed out. ‘And they can’t just move to dry land.’

‘Thanks for mentioning that, it hadn’t occurred to me!’

Her mother raised her eyebrows, which suggested Amelia had better stop arguing, so she spent the rest of the meal in silence and excused herself as soon as the plates were washed. She wandered the castle for half an hour and found herself back in the classroom at the top of the tower, staring at the newspapers. The Kingdom of Mirrors was once a prosperous, vibrant nation known for its lively street festivals, beautiful architecture and delectable sea food. Her parents weren’t to blame for its terrible fortunes. But if no one did anything about the dragon, the war and their debts soon, there would be no kingdom left to rule when her father died. Which, a tiny and horrible voice in the back of her head whispered, would probably be sooner rather than later.

Irritatingly, Amelia wouldn’t be in this position at all if not for her annoying brother.

Because she grew up with an older sibling, Amelia was never expected to shoulder a large portion of royal responsibility. Throughout her childhood she was taught the basic requirements of being a good princess—how to make small talk with someone who has bad breath, the best way to throw a dinner party for politicians with special dietary needs, the fastest way to stab an adversary with a longsword—then left to her own devices. But when Amelia was twelve, Prince Nicholas embarked on the customary coming-of-age quest that all wealthy, promising young men undertook when they reached their mid-teens or decided they did not enjoy academic study.

His quest was to ride north to the castle of Queen Margaret of Stormhaven and choose one of her many offspring to marry (or her offspring’s offspring—there were enough of them to choose from). In return, Margaret would cancel half of the kingdom’s debt. He was also to rid one of Stormhaven’s many mountains of a pesky goat-eating lion on his way, just to prove his worth. Instead, Prince Nicholas killed the lion on the slopes of Traveler’s End Mountain and, when a local goat farmer named Raphael made Nicholas dinner to say thank you, he decided to marry him. Although marriages between royalty and commoners were perfectly normal in the Kingdom of Mirrors, Nicholas wanted to live on the mountain with his husband and their goats rather than inherit a large, hot kingdom filled with olive trees and refugees, so he abdicated. Most of the kingdom protested: marrying below one’s station is one thing but rejecting public duty to become a farmer (albeit with the title Duke of Lumiere) is quite another. Gossip columnists complained that Princess Amelia was even less tamable than her brother, although critics agreed that at least she would have decades to practise being queenly.

King Emmanuel had his stroke six months later.

Amelia and her mother did a pretty good job of running things with the help of their High Council, but they spent most days wondering how much longer the kingdom could go on without defaulting on their loans. A few years ago, Amelia hadn’t even known what the phrase ‘defaulting on loans’ meant, and she hadn’t cared. Why couldn’t her brother have quested to the south coast instead of heading north? He could have killed the dragon like a good prince was supposed to do and then gone on some little journey to rid Traveler’s End Mountain of that lion. It wasn’t even a magical lion, Amelia thought bitterly. It was a standard, goat-eating lion. She was even more annoyed with herself for missing having him around the castle. He would have liked Harry the amulet salesman, and he always made royal engagements feel like an adventure instead of like a piece of complicated homework.

Amelia tidied the newspapers and organised a few textbooks, just for something to do. Her favourite history book, The Magic, Mayhem and Mystery of the Kingdom of Mirrors was dog-eared and out of date, but the author had recently moved north and was now focusing on researching the Valley of Dreams’ historical association with the wine industry. Then there was The Monarchies of the Three Kingdoms (and how two of the kingdoms managed democracy), and Sorry, Dragons Don’t Really Die, But Here’s How You Can Try. Amelia scowled at it. Down on Market Street, a trombonist started a solo. A second later, a cellist started one too. Why on earth were they still playing music? It was night time! When Amelia became queen, her first Royal Decree would be a change in live music laws. She pulled Dragons Don’t Die from the shelf, angrily sweeping past the sections on Ruby Dragons, Emerald Dragons and the Lesser Spotted White Gold Dragon. There was the section on the Sapphire Dragon:

 Sapphire Dragons are not the largest of the dragon family, nor the most dangerous. They can’t spit poison and their eyes won’t paralyse you. They do not eat people. Unfortunately, what they lack in strength they make up for in cunning: it is hard to outwit a Sapphire Dragon, and their only known weaknesses are their sensitive ears and delicate eardrums. They cannot stand high pitched sounds at great length, and if anyone were to shoot an arrow into the ear of a Sapphire Dragon, they would surely slay it, as the opening of the ear is the only part of the Sapphire Dragon’s anatomy that isn’t protected by a layer of scales. No one in human history has ever come close enough to try, though.

Their sensitive ears.

An idea hit Amelia like a beam of sunlight.

Before she could think too much, Amelia hurled herself down the tower stairs and through the castle, so quickly that the stained-glass windows started to blur together. Her parents were sitting in the smallest drawing room with cups of wine. The king worked through his physiotherapy exercises while the queen read a book about strategic negotiations.

‘I have a plan to slay the Sapphire Dragon!’ Amelia gasped as she skidded to a halt on the rug, narrowly avoiding the wine cups.

Her parents looked up. ‘Amelia,’ her mother chided, ‘can’t this wait until tomorrow? Your father can’t take too much excitement.’

‘I hardly think a conversation with my daughter is bad for my health,’ the king murmured, although he didn’t look entirely convinced. ‘Does this have anything to do with your plan to build a giant water cannon and fire it at the dragon?’

‘I made that plan ages ago,’ Amelia said dismissively. ‘We don’t have enough equipment to build a canon powerful enough. This is a new plan.’

‘All right,’ Queen Hazel shrugged. She had the same long afro hair as Amelia, but while Amelia braided or tied up hers to keep it away from her face, Hazel wore a new style or accessory every week, refusing to fire her hairdresser even as they cut down every other expense. She also remade all her dresses, so she looked like she had a new outfit for every occasion, even though it was really the same material, redesigned four or five times a year. Even curled in a frayed armchair, she looked more like a queen than Amelia ever would. ‘Let’s hear it.’

Amelia took a deep breath. ‘Well, the reason the kingdom has had to borrow so much money over the last twenty years is that we’re fighting a war we can’t win, and the entire population of the south of the kingdom moved north and the bottom dropped out of the tourism industry. That’s correct, isn’t it?’

‘Correct,’ her father agreed.

‘And the reason for the war, refugee crisis and tourism trouble is that the Sapphire Dragon razed every village on the south coast and is sitting at Scavenger’s Ruin right now, setting fire to anyone who tries to kill him. That’s right, right?’

‘Right,’ her mother sighed.

‘And it’s entirely possible that, were the dragon to disappear then the war would be over and within three to five years, and assuming we ran a sustainable tourism programme and ploughed proceeds into rebuilding towns, life as we once knew it would return.’

Both parents nodded.

‘Well then,’ Amelia said. ‘It’s time the dragon disappeared.’

‘Oh, well, I’m glad you’ve thought of that,’ Queen Hazel said with a wave of her hand. ‘We’ve spent twenty years thinking that we quite like having him around.’

‘Mother!’ Amelia was stung. ‘I’m only trying to help.’

‘We know that, Amelia…’ the king said gently. ‘But if we knew how to kill the Sapphire Dragon, we would have done so by now. Dragons can’t be killed easily. Or at all. Do you really think we haven’t tried everything we can think of?’

‘Of course not!’ Amelia said quickly. ‘It’s just, you’re going about it all wrong.’

Queen Hazel’s eyebrows did a complicated dance. ‘How, exactly, are we going about it all wrong?’

Amelia steadied herself. Please don’t let them laugh at this please don’t let them laugh—

‘Wasps at the food carts in Market Street don’t sting all the people to make them abandon their food. They just buzz around until people are so irritated that they go indoors to get away.’

‘Um, yes,’ Queen Hazel said. ‘But I don’t think we can get rid of the Sapphire Dragon with wasps.’

‘We need something more annoying than wasps,’ Amelia pressed.

‘Mosquitoes?’ her mother suggested.

‘Fish soup?’ her father asked.

Amelia rolled her eyes. ‘People. People are so annoying! They yell at you about feather pillows, they insist on selling you fake amulets and they play their trombone at the same time as someone else is trying to play the cello! What’s the most annoyingthing you’ve ever heard?’

‘Oh, that’s easy,’ her father replied. ‘It was the time you and Nicholas decided to form a jazz band. Half the castle got tinnitus.’

‘I think the most annoying thing for me was when our seamstress had quadruplets,’ the queen mused. ‘None of them would sleep at the same time, remember? For months, you could always hear a baby crying. Eventually you thought you could hear a baby crying even if it was quiet. I thought I would go insane.’

‘Some would say you did,’ the king said amicably. The queen stuck her tongue out at him.

‘So what you’re proposing is that we just annoy the Sapphire Dragon into just getting up and flying somewhere else?’ King Emmanuel asked.

‘We can if we make everything he hears ruin his delicate ears.’ She held up Dragons Don’t Die. ‘The Sapphire Dragon’s ear canal and eardrum is the only unprotected part of its anatomy.’

Her parents looked at each other. It was the same look they exchanged when Nicholas brought Raphael the goatherd home.

‘How do you propose we make enough noise to ruin his hearing?’ King Emmanuel asked.

‘We hold a festival.’

‘A festival?’ the king asked. ‘For… for whom? The dragon?’

‘For our long-suffering troops down on the south coast! This year is the twentieth anniversary of the dragon’s arrival. Our brave soldiers deserve a traditional Kingdom of Mirrors festival honouring their work and sacrifice. So I’m suggesting a three month event—’

‘Three months?’ Queen Hazel asked. Her eyebrows did another dance.

‘Three months,’ Amelia continued, ‘of sporting events for the soldiers, each one with its own marching band. Three months of accompanying orchestral performances, street theatre, opera shows, circus events. Three months of jazz music.’

She knew she was onto something, because her parents exchanged another look. It was the look they exchanged at Nicholas and Raphael’s wedding.

‘All right,’ her mother sighed. ‘Call the council to meeting.’

Amelia smiled as she swept from the room to find parchment to write notes to the High Council, calling them to a breakfast meeting the next day.

When Amelia was queen, she would commission a new mosaic for the castle’s walls, depicting how she defeated the Sapphire Dragon.

Copyright © 2019 by Francesca Burke

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