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findingniamho · 4 years ago

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The Legend of Princess Katarina: Chapter 1

Read it here or below!

Here it is, the first proper chapter! This is by far the longest thing I've ever written and I'm so excited to share it. Likes and shares very much appreciated, but mostly I just hope to bring a little bit of magic to your day. Updates on Fridays! 🐟

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Princess Katarina the Second got up as she did every morning: begrudgingly. Usually accompanied to the soundtrack of her mother yelling at someone about something. Today, it was at Sir Sentinell – head of the royal guard – for allowing yet another infestation of venomous vines to take over the crypt.

"You know very well why the crypt must be protected at all costs!" screamed the Queen. She was poised with her hands on her hips, glaring her steely gaze down at Sir Sentinell. Or rather, across at him, Katarina thought with a smirk. Her mother was so short, that even with the guardsman kneeling at her feet, she was only slightly taller. Sir Sentinell gritted his teeth.

"I thought after the last time-"

"Don't you dare interrupt me, you cowardly coopickle!"

A coopickle was a moderately irritating species of fish fly. Not much of an insult in Katarina's opinion, but she could tell that her mother was just getting warmed up. Sir Sentinell was going to witness the wrath of Queen Evangeline the First. Things, thought Katarina, as she reached for some caramel pebbles, are about to get interesting.

"I have spent 18 long, stressful years building this queendom up to the magnificent one you see today. I have negotiated with the kingdoms; I have made the people moderately contented and I have raised my child all by myself! I have a million and one things to do, and I do not have time to shout at you every time something goes wrong!"

Although Katarina had heard Evangeline admit that being able to shout at literally anyone was probably one of the best parts about being Queen.

"So, I don't CARE about last time, I just need you to make sure there isn't a next time! Do you seriously think that I can afford for this to happen after what happened to Oisín? Do you really believe that I, Queen Evangeline, supreme ruler of the queendom of Exclansica, mother of the light and keeper of the Muscova spirit would allow a few pathetic, weak little boys who have the AUDACITY to call themselves knights stand in the way of the protection of my queendom? Well, listen up, sunshine, the answer is no! You all need to toughen. Up. We both know that the sacred contents of the crypt need to be protected, and furthermore-"

"What's in the crypt?"

"Katarina, dear, please don't chew with your mouthful."

Now her mother's glare was fixed on her. Rumour had it that the Queen once glared so fiercely that she had a whole army fleeing back to their kingdom. Just with that look. It was work not to shudder. Katarina swallowed down her caramel pebble and stepped out of the doorway.

"What's in the crypt that needs protecting?"

"Oh, nothing. Just some old bits and bobs, you know how it is."

"Sure," replied Katarina, raising her eyebrows. She turned to go back into her room, munching thoughtfully on pebbles.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" the Queen said, sternly.

Katarina sighed, then made a fist with her right hand and struck her heart twice.

"Exclansica for eternity," she muttered. It was the sign used by everyone in the queendom, the beating of the heart used to show the sacrifices they were willing to make for each other, and the sacrifices of those who had gone before them. The two beats were meant to say I am here so you are not alone. That one beat, or person, cannot be without another. Katarina thought that was pretty ironic, seeing as the only people she ever interacted with were the palace staff, her mother and her best (well, only) friend Quinn. Thinking of Quinn gave her an idea. She rang the bell for a messenger and waited.

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"So, let me get this straight."

Harlequin Grey was hanging upside down off the side of the bed, the silver buckles on her black boots gleaming in the afternoon sun. Her dyed black hair had been scraped up into two short pigtails, and her wings were lime green today.

"You want me, a fairy, to try and focus on distracting the Queen long enough to grab a key that literally never leaves her sight?"

Katarina folded her arms from where she was sitting on the rug by the bookshelf, several books spread out around her.

"What has you being a fairy got to do with it?"

"We're free spirits! We can't be tied down doing one thing for very long. That's why we have wings." She fluttered them and reached with her nail-polished fingers for another caramel pebble from the bag between them. Sitting back up, she popped the pebble into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"You know," she said, "it really sucks knowing that just because you have wings, doesn't mean that you can fly away."

After the king had been kingnapped thirteen years ago, all unauthorized entry and exit from the queendom had been forbidden. That included flying. Fairies like Quinn really suffered without flying because they had no outlet for their magic. Most magical beings had some kind of object or instrument, but it wasn't in a fairy's nature to be tied to anything like that. With no direction to point their magic, it often took all they had just to keep it under control. This meant that fairies had a reputation of being ditzy and unable to concentrate on anything for more than five minutes. Katarina knew that this made Quinn angry and determined to prove herself. That was probably why they were such good friends: neither of them got along with destiny.

Katarina held up the book she was studying.

"But you could fly away from your responsibilities with me?"

Quinn smiled.

"You truly know me. What's the plan?"

#tlopk #kat #princess katarina #harlequin grey #queen evangeline #niamh writes #OCs #magic #fantasy

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findingniamho · 4 years ago

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1 and 18 for the end of year fic asks?✨

Thanks for the asks! 😁

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

Probably my countdown fic, which is still ongoing! (New chapter up later 👀). I literally decided on day 1 that I was going to write it so it's been 16 days of writing chapters with pretty much no planning which has resulted in some very random things (two OCs and a She-Ra stress dream, anyone?) but I'm having a blast.

18. current number of wips

Two - my countdown fic (see above) and my original work, The Legend of Princess Katarina 👑⚔

End of year fanfic asks 🐟

#niamh answers #ask game #tlopk #kat

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findingniamho · 4 years ago

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The Legend of Princess Katarina Chapter 5

High expectations, tricky magic and spooky doors. 👑⚔️

Read here.

-🐟

#tlopk #niamh writes

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findingniamho · 4 years ago

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The Legend of Princess Katarnia Chapter 4

Secret tunneeeeeeeeellllll! 👑⚔️

Read chapter 4 here or read from the beginning here. 🐟

Sam gripped her sword tightly in her sweating hands, the only sound her pounding heartbeat in her ears. Finally, she thought, an adventure. She was standing at the princess' side (well, in front of her), ready to defend her. This was the moment she'd been dreaming of! Granted, it wasn't quite how she'd imagined: the passage was dark and damp and she didn't have any armour. But she could work with this. At least she had a sword on her, which meant that the princess trusted her despite the nature of their meeting. She hadn't been prepared to see the princess up this close. Sam had only seen her from a distance when she had to make deliveries up to the castle. A swish of blonde hair or the rustle of fabric as she rounded a corner, the shadow of a hand at the window. In the armoury, Sam had been able to see the princess' legendary beauty up close. The moonlight had highlighted her glittering green eyes and the way that they had lit up when she had said that she had something to prove. But what did a princess have to prove? She already had the key to everything: the key to the queendom, the key to this passage and wherever it was leading, the key to...

Suddenly, the flame of Katarina's torch went out. Losing her composure for the first time, Katarina squealed and grabbed Sam's hand. It was warm, and Sam was surprised to find it gripping hers so willingly for a moment before she quickly pulled away.

"Sorry," Katarina said. "Not a big fan of the dark."

The hairs on the back of Sam's neck stood up as she backed up against the wall, the cold dampness of it seeping into her skin. The air was frozen still; no breeze drifted along the tunnel.

"Let's keep going," said Sam, her words falling easily in the dark and filling the space around them.

"Alright."

Sam strained her ears to follow the sound of Katarina's footsteps behind her as they continued along the passage, her expensive boots muffling them. What was the princess even doing out of the castle anyway? And why were they in this freezing, wet, dark tunnel? Sam had been so flustered upon seeing the princess that she hadn't even stopped to question her. Not that she could question her; it wasn't her place. But Katarina had been alone, that was odd enough. She was wearing a shirt and breeches, with a fur-lined cloak. Usually, the high-ups only wore cloaks on royal visits or expeditions into the forest, neither of which happened anymore. It was also rare that a queen or princess would allow herself to be seen in something that wasn't a dress. Which meant that Katarina probably wasn't there with her mother's – or anyone else's – knowledge. Interesting.

"So, what's the story?" Sam jumped at the sound of Katarina's voice, at the slight warmth of breath on the back of her neck. At the very question that she had been pondering clouding the atmosphere around them.

"What?"

"You said who you had to prove wrong was a long story. You've got the time to tell it now."

Sam took a deep breath.

"Well, pretty much everyone. I don't really know where to start."

"Start in the middle."

"Shouldn't I start at the beginning?"

"I find that starting in the middle helps. It means you say the important bit first, the bit you really want to say without worrying about any opening details. You can fill me in on the beginning later."

"Okay, well I guess when my brother went on to train to become a knight, I decided that I didn't want my father's dream anymore. I wanted my own dream."

"And what was that?"

"I wanted. I want to become a knight. The first female knight in the history of Exclansica."

Sam cringed. This was going to sound stupid to the princess. She wasn't going to want a silly little girl with her head in the clouds to defend her.

"Your father didn't approve?"

No comment about her dream then. Perhaps the princess wasn't aware of the impossibility of what she was trying to achieve. That they wouldn't even let her try, just because she was born wrong. No, not wrong. Different. Yes, there were some things that the boys could do better than her. Maybe they could run faster or lift heavier weapons and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't match them. But she bet that their swordplay wasn't as agile as hers. More importantly, they didn't know pain as she did. When it came down to it, she would always know that she had to overcome more than they ever did. She was more resilient and determined than any of the others would ever have to be. She may have looked scrawny and scruffy on the outside, but inside her beat the heart of a warrior. Even if her father didn't see it. The fierceness came back into her voice as she recalled their argument. The words came more easily in the dark. It snatched them away as soon as they left her mouth, their weight lifting from her with each sentence.

"He told me that girls can't use swords, that I should respect the family tradition to find a rich man and raise a family. That was always my dream too, but recently I realised that I want more. I want a part to play in this queendom, just like you."

"Just like me..." Katarina murmured. Not knowing what to say to that, Sam continued.

"Then I ran over here to do some palace work..."

"...and took out your frustrations on a bunch of straw." Sam could hear the smile in Katarina's voice behind her and felt herself blush. Thank Bisjak for the darkness. They continued in comfortable silence, as the walls of the passage began to feel a little less damp.

"You know," Katarina's voice said out of the dark behind her, "they shouldn't punish you just because your heart is different."

"My heart's the same as it's always been," said Sam, looking ahead to where she thought she saw a faint glimmer of light. "This is just the first time that I've had the courage to listen to it."

#the legend of princess katarina #kat #tlopk #sam and kat #niamh writes

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findingniamho · 4 years ago

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The Legend of Princess Katarina: Chapter 3

Read it here or below!

A spooky dark tunnel is the perfect place for a heart-to-heart, right?

Please like and reblog if you enjoy, and I hope that you have a magical week! 🐟

👑⚔️

Of course.

Of course, this would happen. The only time Katarina didn't want to talk to anybody, she was going to end up conversing with a scruffy peasant, with hostility, a sharp sword and a very questionable smell lying between them. Calling her mother's lessons into her mind, Katarina gave the girl her most vicious princess stare.

"Do you make a habit of pointing weapons at royalty or am I the lucky exception?"

"S-sorry, your highness," the girl stammered, dropping to one knee and striking her heart twice. The sword clattered to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust as it did so.

"Get up," snapped Katarina. "You'll get yourself even more bedraggled."

"Sorry."

"And stop apologizing! You sound like a babbling beeshia!" The girl scrambled to stand and Katarina lifted her torch higher. The person before her was shorter than Katarina, in the uniform of a stable worker. Stable workers often went unnoticed around the grounds, scurrying around and tending to the nobles' needs. But Katarina prided herself on being more observant than the others. She noticed that the girl's hair was short; a mop of curls on the top of her head. Her wide brown eyes held the flame and her t-shirt was a bluish-grey in the moonlight. She noticed the girl's quick breathing and the fact that the end of her ears held a red tinge. She was biting her lip as if holding back yet another apology.

"Don't say it."

A nervous bubble of laughter escaped the girl's lips before she quickly dropped her head, gaze focused on her mud-stained leather boots. Katarina's eyes flitted between them and her pristine, fur-lined shoes.

Folding her arms, Katarina asked: "So what's your name, then?"

The girl's head flicked up, but her eyes still didn't meet Katarina's.

"Samantha. Um, Sam."

"Are you sure about that?" Katarina raised an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"And what are you doing down here at this hour? You were making quite the racket." This wasn't quite true, but Katarina was curious. When she'd found her, Sam had been on the floor in the corner of the armoury facing away from her on her knees as if begging the moon, the wind, the world for something. Her head had been bowed and it was as if Katarina could see the waves of hopelessness pulsing through her, the moonlight that filtered through the beams in the wooden ceiling making the sweat on her back shine like rain on a window during a storm. Then it was as if the lightning had flashed as Sam had swung the sword at her in the blink of an eye, stopping just short of her throat.

And now she had changed again, the ball of her foot digging a mark into the sand, hands clasped behind her back.

"I was just leaving," she mumbled.

"Then why were you holding one of the longswords?"

Silence.

"Answer me!"

"To prove them all wrong!" Sam's brown eyes flashed with anger and then went wide, as if startled that the words had left her mouth.

"Prove... who wrong?" inquired Katarina cautiously. Sam sighed.

"It's a long story."

Katarina crossed the room to the corner where Sam had been kneeling.

"And the straw...?"

"...is part of it."

Sam looked up at her through her lashes sheepishly. What was this girl's problem? Something was clearly going on, she'd admitted as much, yet she refused to tell Katarina, her princess, about it. Well, Katarina could make her talk.

"Listen, I-" She was cut off by a flash of light in her periphery. A piece of metal poked out from one of the piles of straw streamed across the ground. Crouching lower, Katarina cleared it away with a wave of her hand to reveal a silver lock with the inscription:

"Only those who hold the key,

And worry about the likes of we,

May use my treasure to fight the mighty,

And set the people free."

Katarina clicked the fingers of her left hand.

"You. Help me shift this straw."

"I'm not an animal," Sam murmured as she strode to the corner.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Together, they managed to get the straw away from the trapdoor and Katarina inserted the key into the lock, listening with her ear against the ground for the click.

"You might need that," Katarina said, nodding at the sword that lay across the floor behind them.

"What for?"

"Well someone has to protect me if there's a flesh-eating Shubi down there. How are you with a sword?"

Sam reached for the longsword and held it out in front of her. She twirled it around in her hand as if it weighed nothing, then cocked her head, the ghost of a smile playing on her face.

"I'm alright."

Katarina took a moment to reply.

"Good." she gave a curt nod and turned her attention to the spiral stone staircase below, holding the torch aloft. Then, more to herself than to Sam, she whispered: "Let's prove them wrong."

Together, they ventured down into the passage.

👑⚔️

#niamh writes #tlopk #kat #sam #chapter 3

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findingniamho · 4 years ago

Text

The Legend of Princess Katarina: Chapter 2

Read it here or below!

The key’s gone, Sam’s dad is wrong and where did all this hay come from?Please like and reblog if you enjoy, and I hope that you have a magical week! 🐟

👑⚔

If someone asked Katarina what the number one worst part about being a princess was (not that anyone ever asked), she wouldn't say the dresses were number one, but they definitely made the list. They were just so impractical, and they didn't even look that nice, in Katarina's opinion. She would rather wear the stable worker uniform than the red monstrosity she was being forced into this evening for dinner. At least she could run in that if she needed to. For all her mother's lectures about safety, it would be almost impossible to get away if someone made an attempt on her life. She looked into the mirror and was met with what looked like a tomato. Crossing her fingers of her left hand behind her back, she reminded herself that she may look stupid, but looks can be deceiving.

After a delightfully awkward dinner where she listened to her mother rant on about everything from snakes to shoes, Katarina snuck into a torch-lit alcove. There, she detached her skirt from the breeches she was wearing underneath (if she was going to wear a dress, it was going to be at least a tiny bit useful) and fished out a cloak from where she had stashed it in the corner earlier. All she had to do now was to wait for Quinn's signal. Gazing out of the window, she saw the great lawn below her with the yellow specks of sibius flowers dotting the surface like drops of sunlight. From her studies, Katarina knew that if you combined the petal of a sibius with a drop of blood it could make a particularly powerful bout of healing potion (although it also acted as a truth serum, so it was rarely used). These small pockets of knowledge brought beauty to Katarina's grey world, the way that sunlight does to just about anything. Knowing that all this would one day be hers did not give her the same comfort. She would be more trapped than ever, and would probably have to marry some stuck-up prince who would say dumb things like "wow, you're so pretty," and "I didn't know that you could do that." Like the only thing that she was capable of was looking pretty. Well, she was capable. And one day she was going to prove it.

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Sam strode across the castle grounds, black boots (well, mostly brown now) thumping on the grass. Her breathing came quick and sharp, much like the conversation she'd had with her father minutes before. The rhythm of her feet accompanied the pounding mantra in her head.

"Girls. Can't. Use. Swords. Girls. Can't. Use. Swords." The sneer on her father's face as he glared down at her returned to her vision. He looked at her like she was nothing. In this world, it felt like that was all she would ever be. Out of habit, she glanced up at the tower above her, where the high-ups lived. Surprised to actually see someone in the little window for once, Sam waved up at the shadowy figure, squinting to see through the sunlight that bored into her eyeballs. It was only after she'd nearly reached the edge of the lawn that she could see who she was waving at: the princess.

Oh, coopickles.

She was sweaty, raging and covered in muck. At least the princess had been too far away to smell her, thank Bisjak. Running a hand through her short hair, Sam turned back just in time to see her sigh and turn away from the window. She realised that she'd probably just worsened the situation on the mud front and the princess probably had much better things to look at inside the castle. She could have whatever she wanted in there. Like in the rhyme. From the sun in the sky to the river below, anything she wants let it be so. But the princess always seemed different from the rest of the royal family, not that Sam had ever spoken to her. First of all, it was forbidden for stable workers to interact with royalty and Sam also found that whenever she tried to talk to people, she got flustered and started blabbing on about dragons. The princess had waved back to Sam, though. That was something.

As she entered the armoury, Sam glanced around to check that no one was looking. Technically, she had signed up to clean the weapons, but seeing as they were spares, they lay on the wall, already gleaming in the last light of the day. The palace guards had to clean their own swords, which they kept on them at all times, so Sam was left with little to do as she let her fingers linger on the hilt of the longsword closest to her. The gold on the handle made up an intricate design of waves and curls, with ancient inscriptions weaving through in some forgotten language. The blade itself was so smooth that she could see her reflection. A ragged girl upon her eighteenth year, she was in the standard uniform of a palace stable worker: red and black flannel shirt over a grey t-shirt (both with the royal crest: a crown with two crossed swords), black trousers and black boots. Although now her uniform was more brown than black; it had been a day that was for sure. Her dark hair was short and curly and her brown eyes had flecks of gold in them if she looked close enough. She had her father's eyes. Thinking of her father made her remember that awful conversation that they'd had. He'd been screaming at her, outraged at the prospect of her becoming what she really wanted to be.

For as long as she could remember, they'd both wanted the same thing for her: to get married, have a family and live a blissfully domestic life. But then her brother went off to train to become a knight, boasting about his honour and how he was going to do his part for the queendom. Where was her honour? Where was her big part to play? Suddenly, she didn't know if the picture-perfect life that laid before her was something that she knew what to do with. And it wasn't like marrying a man was ever really an option for her...

So, she marched into the office of the head of the palace staff and demanded that he give her a job. Granted, it wasn't what she was expecting but it was better than the nothing that she was apparently destined for. Unlike the princess, who seemed destined for everything. She always seemed so kind, and smart, yet so sad. What did she have to be sad about? She had everything: beauty, grace, the entire queendom and all that it encompassed. Nothing could get to her in that tower. Especially the short stable girl with muck in her hair who looked back at Sam in the reflection on the blade. Sam grasped the hilt more tightly and lifted the weapon off the wall. It made a satisfying swish sound as it cut through the air. Sam grinned, eyeing the straw training dummy on the other side of the room, shafts of light creeping in through the wooden slats in the roof. Now, this she knew what to do with.

👑⚔️

Katarina had nearly fallen asleep by the time she heard a soft knocking sounding along the pipe inside the wall that she was leaning against. Drawing her cloak around her, she snuck quietly down the hallway, her torch creating flickering shadows, like fingers that snapped and snatched at her. She turned one corner, then another, making sure that no one could possibly tail her. After she'd collected the key that Quinn had pinched from her mother, she had to try and find the crypt. If the crypt was ever broken into or attacked, it would move itself to a different place in the palace or its grounds. One time, Katarina found it in the cellars. Another time, in a broom cupboard. That was another reason that Katarina was suspicious about its contents: if it was "just some old bits and bobs," like her mother said, then why did the crypt have so many protections in place? Why did the key to it never leave her mother's person? If it was important, surely Katarina had a right to know what was in there?

She heard the sound of guards marching towards her and ducked into the shadows, snuffing out the torch. Katarina held her breath as they clanged past her, the metal joints of their uniforms making them seem more mechanical beings than human. Once they had rounded the corner, she reached one hand up to feel for the loose brick. There it was, Quinn had turned it around which meant that... aha! Her fingers curled around something sharp and frigid. The weight of the object surprised her and it clattered to the ground, accompanied to the screeching of metal against stone. Katarina gasped, then covered her mouth with her hand as the clanging of the guards stopped.

"Did you hear something?" said one.

"Probably just some snids," replied the other. Snids were pretty harmless, just a bit of a nuisance. Their voices faded as they continued their march and Katarina looked down at what she had dropped. She relit her torch and held it up to the light. She had never seen it up this close before and gazed for a second at the inscription that surrounded the pattern of the royal crest upon it. The looping writing was almost illegible and not in any language that she had studied anyway. Katarina could have looked at it for hours, but keys were not made for looking at. Now she had to find something to unlock.

👑⚔️

Slash.

Useless.

Slash.

Nothing.

Slash.

Pathetic.

The sun had set over an hour ago now, and Sam was still hacking away at the training dummy, reduced to a flaking pile of straw now. She'd given up on proper technique long ago and the mud on her uniform had since turned to dust.

Slash.

Girls.

Can't.

Use.

Swords.

Her boots drew patterns on the sandy floor of the armoury as she danced across it, her blade catching flashes of moonlight as her mind caught flashes of memory. The thread on her shirt that she picked at as she refused to meet her father's stare. The clanging of pots in the kitchen as her mother prepared dinner. How the fireplace was reflected in her father's eyes as she told him that he rejected the road that was laid out for her and wanted to forge her own path.

"Your place is at home, with a husband and children. That is your legacy! It runs in the family!"

"Well, it runs out here!"

And then, well, then she ran.

Shaking, Sam sank to her knees and wiped the sweat off her brow. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes but she pushed them down. She had never cared for tears; what had they ever done for her? She looked down at her trembling hands, at the dirt that sat in the lines of her palms. The blood that flowed beneath her skin had no legacy. A tradition was merely a flimsy way of pretending that anything she did really mattered.

A sudden orange glow and the scraping of feet upon the ground startled her and she grabbed her longsword, pointing it at the neck of her intruder.

The neck of Princess Katarina the Second.

#niamh writes #tlopk #kat #sam #chapter 2

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