#just sit in my writing folder for whenever i feel like reading some silly unfinished idea

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Honors From the King: A Short Story

The sword felt strange in Mia's hand. It fit perfectly in her grasp, but it still seemed impossible that it was hers. A few days ago it had made her into a hero, but in the confusion of the battle, she barely remembered making the lucky blow that felled the giant who had terrorized the Southern Forest for ten years.

Now she, an ordinary eleven-year-old from Iowa, was the hero of a fantastical realm, waiting to receive honors from the king himself.

Elbera bustled around Mia in the antechamber-turned-dressing room of the village hall. The elf woman—barely taller than Mia—had served almost as a mother to her since the strange wind had left her in the elfin village. "Now, my dear, as you're being honored for valor in battle, it's right for you to carry the sword, but you must never put the point toward the king. If you're nervous about it, you'd best sheathe it."

Mia sheathed the sword before Elbera finished the sentence.

Elbera continued, "Since you've slain a well-known terror, it's customary for the king to offer a boon. If he offers up to half his kingdom, don't take it—it's only a polite phrase. Best to ask for something useful—perhaps a sum of gold to rebuild the bridge outside the village."

From what Mia had heard of the king, he'd do that anyway. No, if Mia was to get a boon, she would ask for only one thing.

She wanted to go home.

For nine long months, she'd been stuck in Athelor. The cheerful, dainty elves had been kind to her—sheltering, feeding and teaching her without complaint—but they weren't her family. Her parents had to be frantic about her. And her six siblings—what had they done when that strange summer wind took her away from them? An entire school year would be gone by now. If she stayed away much longer, she'd be so far behind, and it would be harder and harder to fit back into ordinary life.

The elves had been unable to provide any suggestions about how to get back home; they only told Mia to wait for the wind. But the elves had sung praises of King Edonniel's library, spoke with awe of his scholarly works about Athelor's history. If anyone knew how to get her home, the king would.

The door to the chamber opened, and a palace guard escorted Mia into sunlit wooden expanse of the main hall.

At the room's far end, the king stood among his guard. Though over fifty, he was tall and fit, with a reddish-gold beard and a noble bearing, resplendent in royal armor. He was like the good king in every fairy tale Mia had ever read, like her father, and she forgot to be afraid of him. The king was a great man—warrior, poet, scholar, diplomat—but Mia knew in an instant that he was kind enough to help a lost girl.

The assembled crowd—all the elves and talking beasts from the village—cheered as Mia approached the king. Mia tried to ignore them, instead focusing on the king’s kind face.

The king stared at her. He stood frozen for several moments, then stepped toward her. “Mia?”

Mia stumbled to a stop. "Yes?" This seemed an informal greeting from a great king.

In a blink, Mia found herself in the king's arms, crushed in a warm embrace.

"I can't believe it." The king's deep voice sounded right next to her ear. "I thought I'd never see any of you again, not here."

Mia tried to push him away. King or not, this was too weird to put up with. "Any of who? What are you doing?"

The king pulled away and looked into her face, drinking her in. "I'm sorry. Of course you don't know me. Mia, I’m Danny. Your brother."

*

In the privacy of Elbera’s good parlor, Mia sat alone with the king. Her brother. Her ten-year-old brother. Who she never in a million years would have connected with the great scholar, warrior, and king the elves, in their musical accents, called Edonniel.

She couldn’t doubt that he was Danny. He remembered their parents, their farm, all their family, even the dinosaur village she and he had created two summers ago. With only a year and a day between their ages, they had often been mistaken for twins, but Mia had always reveled in her superior age. Until now.

Danny seemed so dignified; he made Elbera’s soft chair look like a throne. His eyes had wrinkles around them. His red-gold beard hung down to his chest. He sat so steady, so still, gazing at her like she was his long-lost child—instead of the sister whose hair he pulled when she beat him at Mario Kart.

As Mia sat across from him on Elbera's other chair, the only thing she could think to say was, “You’re older than me.”

The king guffawed. “I’m older than Dad. But you—you don’t look a day older than when I last saw you. How long have you been here?”

“Nine months.”

“It’s been forty-eight years for me.”

Mia’s head spun at the idea. “How?”

“The wind that carried us into a different world carried us into different times. I landed on the shores of the Beryl Sea forty-eight years ago. Ever since I became king, I’ve made a study of Athelorian history, trying to find the rest of us.”

“Us?” Mia had been with her siblings when the wind had taken her, but she’d assumed they were back home in Iowa. “How many of us are in Athelor?”

“All of us,” Danny said with surprise. “Didn’t you know?”

Mia shook her head. “I couldn’t see much.”

“And when you landed here alone, you had no reason to guess that we weren’t all safely at home,” he said, understanding.

“Is anyone else here?” Mia asked, half-hoping another brother or sister would pop out from behind the furniture.

“I crossed paths with Thomas not long after I arrived, but you’re the only one I’ve met in person since. Everyone else, I’ve had to track down in history and legend.”

“You met Thomas?”

“He landed among the trolls of the northern mountains,” Danny explained. “Became a master smith—the greatest in Athelorian history. He forged that sword you carry. I have no idea how it got into the elves’ hands; I’ll bet there’s a story there.”

Danny never could stick to the point of a story. “Where is he?” Mia asked in frustration.

“He was a very old man when I met him,” Danny said. “A hundred and twenty-seven, by some counts. Some say his life was extended by working with the stones from the heart of the world.”

Was? Her little brother had been only six years old when she’d last seen him. He couldn’t be—

Mia sank back into her chair, stricken.

Danny, caught up in his story, didn’t seem to notice. “Jane lived among the centaurs and elves of the Skyveil Plains seven-hundred years ago. Became a legendary warrior and explorer, defender of the weak. Beloved by all the beasts. First to step foot on the Daybreak Isles and meet the talking mice.”

Seven-hundred years?

“Now Ben,” Danny said with a laugh, “has popped up all through history. Rarely seen for more than a day or two, but he always has some dramatic effect. Some scholars speculate he’s extraordinarily long-lived, but my theory is that time is playing with him in a different way than the rest of us.”

He said it all so calmly!

“Nora?” Mia dared to ask about their oldest sister.

Danny’s gaze turned dreamy, his voice hushed and reverent. “The legendary Queen Eleanor, present at the waking of the world.”

Danny was talking about Nora—bossy Nora!—like he was in awe of her.

Her sister—all her siblings—had become legends. They weren’t waiting for her at home. They were long dead, had been dead ever since she’d arrived, which meant they were gone forever, and there was no way home—

Mia burst into tears.

Danny reacted about like how she’d have expected him to react. He sprang up from his seat and hovered awkwardly over her chair. “Mia? What’s wrong?”

Through tears, despair, and frustration, Mia blubbered something that included the words, “They’re all dead!”

“Dead?” Danny asked. “Who said they were dead?”

Mia wiped her tears on her sleeve and glared up at him. “You did! You said Thomas was ancient, and Jane lived seven-hundred years ago, and Nora’s as old as the entire world!”

“That doesn’t mean they’re dead.”

“I’m not stupid! No one can live that long, not even here!”

Danny crouched down next to her chair. He placed both hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “Mia, look at me. I’m telling you: they’re not dead.”

Before his fatherly gaze—even with the beard, he looked a lot like Dad—Mia’s sobs became mere sniffles. “Then where are they?”

“They’re home. Safe. I promise. The same wind that brought us here brought them back home after their adventures were over.”

Just like the elves had said. But when Mia had thought she’d have to wait to go home, she’d thought it would be a few years at most, not—

“You said Thomas was more than a hundred years old.”

Danny said, “I’ve done a lot of reading about people like us. We’re not the only people who’ve come here from Earth—or gone home. The stories all say the same thing. No matter how long we spend here, the wind takes us back home to a time only minutes after we left, and we’ll be just the same age we were then. Reunited from across history, as young we ever were. A foretaste of heaven.”

His voice had gone dreamy again. The elves had said he was a poet.

Mia dried her face and sat up straight. “We’ll all be together? At our normal ages? Like we never left?”

“Exactly.”

“You and me and Thomas and Ben and Nora and—“ Mia realized something. “You never said where Claire was.”

“She’s the only one I haven’t found in history yet. That means her story’s probably still in the future. Maybe we’ll run into her someday.”

That did sound exciting, but Mia didn’t like the idea of waiting decades like Daniel had.

“How long do you think it will be? Before we go home?”

Danny stood and walked toward his chair. “I can’t say. Whenever the wind blow lately, I get the strangest feeling that I won’t be here long—maybe five years.”

Five years—half her life—not long?

“For you,” Danny continued as he sat down, “I can’t say. But I have a feeling that your adventures are just beginning.”

“I don’t want more adventures,” Mia said, as another tear dripped. “I want to go home.”

“I know,” Danny said, his voice husky with sympathy. “The first year is the hardest, and you’re so young.”

The idea of Danny—Danny!—treating her like a little kid! “I’m older than you!” Looking into his very-much-not-a-kid face, she amended, “Well, I should be.”

“You will be again, one day. But until then...“ Danny leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and suddenly sounded more like an American kid than he had all day. “This sounds so weird, but if you like, I can adopt you. You can live in the palace under my protection, and I can show you everything about Athelor. Maybe name you my heir if you like the whole royalty thing.”

He was planning a whole life for her. Plotting out a future. Here. Even without the weirdness of Danny acting like her dad, it was too much.

Danny noticed her hesitation. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I know we’re all called here for different purposes, and I don’t want to keep you from your intended mission.”

“I thought the giant was my mission.” Mia had constructed such a tidy tale—and now it was unraveling. “I came here, I slayed the giant. The story should be over. I should get to go home.”

“It will always be waiting for you. Until then, you have Athelor.”

“Athelor isn’t home!”

“It can be,” Danny said. “It’s been a good home to me. It can be a better one, now that you’re here.”

Mia suddenly realized how old her little brother was. How long he’d been waiting, searching for his family through books. And now she was here, after all this time.

Maybe that was her mission. To help this great king while he was here caring for the people of Athelor.

“I guess I can try,” Mia said. Even if she had to stay a long time—well, Danny had managed to do some amazing things, and she couldn’t let her little brother outshine her. “When we do get back home, I don’t want you to have a better story than me.”

Danny grinned—and for just a second, he looked a little like the kid she remembered. “Mia,” he said, “I think you’re going to be fit for legend.”

[kbetolks]

The original post can be found here★.

1. What does your writing process look like?

A text file with a bunch of sentences

A folder with images supposedly pertinent to the story

A bunch of bookmarks on google search

Eventual pieces of paper also with a bunch of random sentences

2. Do you have any strange writing habits (like standing on your head or writing in the shower)?

Uhh... no? I listen to music, but that's hardly 'strange', I guess.

3. What book do you wish you could have written?

Redações Perigosas II. It's about a teacher that always get herself in trouble when she asks her students to write an essay. There's a bit of mystery and a bunch of puns. Or that’s how I remember it from my childhood. LOL!

4. Just as your books inspire authors, what authors have inspired you to write?

(I don’t have any proper book, nor do I know about inspiring people. It’s a cool thought, though.)

Well, I had PerfectDreamWithHim to push me to write, and I always loved russelia’s stuff. I guess it’d be those two?

5. If you could cast your characters in the Hollywood adaptation of your book, who would play your characters?

I'd want Betty White as Nan Fletcher, and Regina Hall as Becca.

6. How important are names to you in your books? Do you choose the names based on liking the way it sounds or the meaning? Do you have any name choosing resources you recommend?

Very important. Sometimes I spend quite a few hours trying to find a fitting name. And I don't really have a go-to site, but anything like those 'names for babies' or names dictionaries is good. Especially those that show a name's popularity at certain year. Pretty useful.

7. What do you consider to be your best accomplishment?

This is so vague... I'd say completing my every story. I take pride in not leaving unfinished stuff behind. (It may take years, but I do it!)

8. Where do you see yourself in 10 years?

I don’t know? Too many years there. I can barely plan anything for the weekend… LMAO

9. Were you already a great writer? Have you always like to write?

(It's funny because this assume I am a great writer. LMAO) I kinda enjoyed writing for school, but just that. Writing stories is somewhat new for me.

10. What writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?

Write. You can't get better unless you practice. Everybody starts somewhere.

11. If you didn’t like writing books, what would you do for a living?

12. Are you a plotter or a pantster?

A bit of both? lately I've been more of a plotter because I'm writing longer stories. But everything else is just me going with the flow.

13. Do you read your reviews? Do you respond to them, good or bad? Do you have any advice on how to deal with the bad?

Read and respond to all of them. It's just common courtesy, in my opinion. Advice, eh? I'm really bad with those because I barely get ANY reviews, and the bad ones are pretty rare, too! I guess I'd say to not pay it any mind if it's not con-crit. Only you know how long it took you to write that, and usually that nasty comment comes from somebody that doesn't even write. If you are you own worst critic (like me) you don't have much to worry about. *Alanis Morissette voice* No one's been crueller than I've been to me ♪

14. What is your best marketing tip?

15. What is your least favorite part of the publishing / writing process?

Writing. LMAO! Seriously, it would be a lot easier if the words just flowed from the brain.

16. Is there one subject you would never write about as an author? What is it?

So many, to be honest. Anything that's too dark and serious, like sexual assault.

17. Do you have a favorite conference to attend? What is it?

Never been to one of those.

18. Is there a certain type of scene that’s harder for you to write than others? Love? Action? Racy?

Anything angsty or smutty. I've been trying my hand at it lately, but I don't feel as relaxed as I am with crack and silly puns.

19. Is this your first book? How many books have you written prior (if any?)

Given that some stories are as lengthy as books, no. I have other 5 or 6 stories over 40K.

20. What are you working on now? What is your next project?

I have two stories at the moment. Choices Like Waves★ and This World Ends With Us★. I plan on going back to Not As We at some point this year or the next. There's also an exchange later this year, but I'm not sure I'm participating yet.

21.When did you decide to become a writer?

I didn’t decide. It happened when a friend talked me into translating and posting a dream I had. That was sometime around 2012.

22.Why do you write?

Because I have too many unwritten ideas and I want to see as many as possible written before I die. But mainly because I can't not write.

23.What made you decide to sit down and actually start something?

Like starting a project? Well, it depends on the idea, though it all comes down to my inability to not write something.

24.Do you have a special time to write or how is your day structured?

Whenever I have time, though I usually pick weekends/mornings. There's so much I write at night that doesn't make sense...

25.Do you write every day, 5 days a week – if not, when?

I write whenever it's possible. And when I can't, I'll just jot down some ideas.

26.Do you aim for a set amount of words/pages per day?

Nah, that's unnecessary stress.

27.Do you work to an outline or plot or do you prefer just see where an idea takes you?

Lately I've been outlining stuff and then seeing how far I can go. I don't mind if new stuff comes to me along the way.

28.How do you think you’ve evolved creatively?

I'm pretty creative, if i say so myself. I'm not sure there's been any change to even say I 'evolved'.

29.What is the hardest thing about writing?

Everything.

30.What was the hardest thing about writing your latest book?

For TWEWU I'd say some delicate aspects of the plot towards the end. I had to find a way to make it somewhat lighter than the original plot. (It's so vague, but I don't want to give out possible spoilers. LOL!) For CLW Id say... the homophobia. It made me sad because it's very common in real life.

31.What is the easiest thing about writing?

*hysterical laughter*

32.Do you work to an outline or plot or do you prefer just see where an idea takes you?

Both.

33. How do you think you’ve evolved creatively?

I don’t think I have? Like, imagination was never a problem. Even before I started writing. I just let my imagination run wild, and it’s been that way since forever? That’s why I have a soft spot for fantasy. (My dreams usually involve that kind of stuff and my first fic was actually a dream I had.)

34. What subjects do you find you can’t write about, and why?

Abuse in general.

35. What subjects do you love writing about?

Everything that's happy and silly. Family fics are my drug.

36.How much research do you do?

It depends on the story, but usually quite a bit. At least I try to check if what I'm saying has any veracity or I'm just being daft.

37. Have you written any other novels in collaboration with other writers?

Never.

38. Why did you do decide to collaborate and did that affect your sales?

39. When did you decide to become a writer?

I didn't. I was dragged into this life. LMAO

40. Why do you write?

Because I need to.

41. What inspired your latest project?

I wanted to try my hand at writing smut, so a gay porn star story seemed ideal. LMAO

42. What’s the most boring part of writing?

Revising/editing.

43. What’s the most fun part of writing?

Seeing it finished.

44. What’s the biggest writing mistake you ever made?

I changed some character's ethnicity halfway into the story, and I'm also bad at getting the seasons right. (It's always the inverse for North hemisphere.)

45. What do you hope to accomplish in the next 5 years as a writer?

I don't know. Finishing the Tales of Deepsea City series? I want a third instalment with a crossover!

46. What’s the best thing you’ve ever done as a writer?

Carried on writing.

47. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done as a writer?

Carried on writing.

48. Do you find it hard to accept criticism?

Not at all. Even the worst criticism is nothing compared to how I judge my own stuff. My skin is sorta thick. LMAO

49. What do you hope to do better as a writer?

Write a well-received story.

50. What do you think is your best quality as a writer?

My imagination.