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forgottenvice · 1 year ago

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Where the Sun Sleeps

Here's my fic for @moshanganthology Go check out the zine it's got so much good stuff in it

Every day the sun would travel across the sky and every night it would disappear. Mobei-Jun, Crown Prince of the Northern Kingdom, never gave it much thought. Until the month of his coronation when it failed to rise. The black sky is considered an ill omen, and if he is to take his rightful place upon the throne, he must find out why. His only lead comes from Shang Qinghua, a young man who claims he knows where the sun sleeps and promises to lead the prince there. As they set out on their adventure, it becomes clear that there is more to his guide than he first thought. Especially when everything seems just a bit brighter when Shang Qinghua smiles.

Mobei-Jun was destined to be King.

He’d been born to the role, Crown Prince of the North since his first cry. His education had been directed accordingly, instruction in the art of politics, war, and defence of his kingdom from outside nations and traitors alike.

His father taught him how to use his position as a weapon, emphasizing his status and control.

Such lessons continued even after his Father’s death with new teachers; treachery and bitter experience. His uncle, Linguang-Jun, had taken over as regent and in doing so left the prince to pick his battles and bide his time.

The late king’s brother had been lauded for stepping up, but it was clear to the young prince that the man had only done so to tighten his grip on power. Often citing Mobei-Jun’s youth and inexperience to deny him his place on the throne.

But such a poor excuse was not to last past the prince’s twenty-first birthday, the day of his official coronation.

A day that approached quickly.

Mobei-Jun had been patient, and soon that patience would pay off. The planning had gone smoothly and there was an undercurrent of excitement running through the staff as the preparations began in earnest.

It was to be a season-long affair, starting with an influx of visitors to the Capital. Travellers from far and wide would pour into the city: dignitaries, merchants and of course, the common people. All would join the celebrations until the day he was to take his birthright.

The young prince had grown into a stoic man, holding his emotions close so they could not be used against him, but even he could not resist smiling with anticipation, everything was going to work out exactly as it was supposed to.

Until it didn’t.

The first day of celebration began as any other, Mobei-Jun’s first action of the day was to pull back his curtains and greet the sun, but when he did, only the cool starry sky of night met his salutation.

Perhaps he was early, excitement pushing his awakening up by an hour or two, but when he found the castle staff in a panic, it was clear that that had not been the case.

Dark days were not unheard of; poor weather, or smoke from summer fires had blocked out the sun on occasion, but even then it would shine a blood red behind the smoke and clouds.

The starry sky was clear, pinpricks of light twinkling merrily as if the night was never meant to end.

Servants were told to continue their duties, even while uncertainty stained every step. Mobei-Jun went immediately to consult the royal scholars. The astronomers had not predicted any such eclipse, but still they assured the prince the sun should return by the next morn.

The opening ceremony continued as planned, and Mobei-Jun relayed the scholar’s predictions to his people, allowing the festivities to begin as if nothing was amiss.

But when he greeted the second dawn of darkness, Mobei-Jun had a sinking feeling settle in his gut. One that the people seemed to share, more had gathered in the palace courtyard, not for revelry, but for answers.

A tense uneasiness filled the city streets, tallow and pitch could act as remedy for a day, but what of longer?

The travellers flooding the capital switched from cheerful partygoers to fearful refugees, driven to worry without the daylight they had once taken for granted. A single question passed every set of lips.

Where had the sun gone?

There were no good theories and even bringing scholars to face the crowd provided no reassurance. As the second sunless day rolled into a third, Mobei-Jun saw his fragile hope vanish alongside the missing sun.

People had gathered on the palace grounds once again demanding answers.

Mobei-Jun had none.

He stood above the crowd upon the palatial balcony, a place from which the Northern Kings had addressed their subjects for centuries, now it was only a vantage point from which to watch their faith in his leadership crumble. Fear and uncertainty were thrown into flickering relief by the lamps and torches amongst the crowd.

He was to be King, but he was lost, feeling more like a scapegoat than a ruler. This was no foe to be conquered, no traitor to be hung, he was woefully unprepared to placate the turbulent crowd.

Before he could conjure answers, his uncle appeared next to him with a mysterious robed figure.

“Please listen.”

Linguang-Jun was a charismatic speaker in a way Mobei-Jun could never replicate. His voice projected over the crowd, silencing their complaints with camaraderie and a pull to hear his next words.

“The sages have been consulted.” He then stepped to the side, letting the cloaked man face the people.

“It is an ill omen to spend a day with black sky, and we have suffered three. The gods are angry, if we do not placate their wrath it will bring our lands to ruin.” The man looked pointedly at Mobei-Jun.

The prince bristled, clenching his teeth and glaring at his uncle. Linguang-Jun had raised his hands to the crowd in a parody of comfort.

“No one is more disappointed by this omen than myself, but perhaps in a few years the fates will show the crown prince favour once more. I shall continue on as regent until they do.”

His false sincerity had cold fury surging through Mobei-Jun’s veins.

“We cannot ignore the signs nephew, this is the will of the gods,” Of course Linguan Jun was only a religious man when it suited him.

“Unless you can personally bring back the sun, what else can be done?”

Silence had overtaken the crowd and Mobei-Jun could feel everything he’d worked for slipping from his grasp.

“Then I’ll do it.”

Linguang-Jun frowned, but Mobei-Jun mirrored his actions, turning to the crowd.

“I, Mobei-Jun, Crown Prince of the Northern Kingdom, vow to find the sun and return it to the sky.” Adrenaline chose his words, steeling his nerves as he challenged his uncle.

“And I will do so before my coronation, to earn back the god’s favour and remove all doubts to my place as king.”

The words hung over the silent crowd as heavily as his intent, after a moment, his declaration was met with a raucous cheer, and he felt grimly satisfied at the way his uncle frowned.

It was a short lived satisfaction. It took less than an hour to realize the flaw in his plan:

He had no idea where to start.

He couldn’t guess as to why the sun had gone. Had he truly lost the god’s favour?

He’d never been particularly devout, but the prospect of losing the power he’d worked for hadn’t given him the chance to consider the feasibility of his quest.

He’d consulted the scholars, the astronomers, and even the treacherous sages, but none had answers. The sickly sweet smile his uncle had given him when he’d left their consultation let him know that Linguang-Jun had reached the same conclusion.

Mobei-Jun wandered the castle, his thoughts spiralling, grasping for impossible solutions as the darkness of the last few days began to suffocate him.

His rumination was broken by a timid voice.

“M-My King?”

He stilled, turning to find an unfamiliar man at his side.

The unassuming man fidgeted beneath his gaze, it was clear he did not belong in the palace—neither a servant nor guard, but too plainly dressed to be a visiting ambassador or dignitary.

Mobei-Jun towered above most people, but the man seemed even shorter the way he was cowering. Most visitors were at least polite enough to gawk at royalty from a distance.

“What are you doing here?” The man tensed, his shoulders rising as a guilty look crossed his face. He dropped to his knees prostrating.

“Apologies, my King, apologies. This serva—”

“Prince.”

“What?” The man blinked at him owlishly, the expression made him look foolish.

“I am no king yet, it is improper to address me as such.” He didn’t need to give his uncle more reason to condemn him.

“Oh.” Dark eyes widened in understanding and the man stilled just long enough for Mobei-Jun to inspect him. His robes were plain, but the style was complex, a design unfamiliar to the prince. The colour was a muddy yellow, reflecting the torchlight in a way that still managed to make the dark hall seem brighter.

“What are you doing here?” The man flinched under inspection, only remembering himself after a moment.

“Right! I’m here about the sun!” He scrambled for words, “I-I know where it—where you can find it!”

That grabbed Mobei-Jun’s attention, he’d gotten nowhere with scholars and sages.

“Tell me.”

“Well—I—uh,”

Mobei-Jun watched him intently, but his patience wearing razor thin.

“Out with it.”

“There—THERE’S A CAVE! Yes, that’s it, a cave. Several weeks travel from here. It’s where the sun sleeps at night.”

“The sun…sleeps?” Mobei-Jun raised an eyebrow, he’d never considered what happened to the sun at night, he simply assumed it travelled somewhere beyond the horizon, beyond his kingdom, beyond his concern.

Except now it very much was his concern.

“Yes! Everything needs to sleep right? Even you my Kin—Prince! Even you, my prince!” It seemed like such a simple answer, Mobei-Jun was not sure the man could be trusted.

“You’ve seen it?”

The man nodded rapidly.

“It descends to the earth every night to sleep among the mountains.”

He eyed the cowering man trying to gauge a motive. His conviction was commendable; more powerful men had fled under the scrutiny of the Crown Prince. In the end that conviction, and his lack of options, convinced Mobei-Jun.

“What is your name?”

“Shang Qinghua, my Ki—er my Prince.”

“Then Shang Qinghua, you will take me to this cave.”

Shang Qinghua’s head whipped up to meet the prince’s eyes, they seemed brighter than before, torchlight reflecting gold only for a moment. Then Shang Qinghua’s forehead was pressed to the ground once more.

“Of course, my King.”

#Moshang #Moshang Anthology #my writing #where the sun sleeps #fairy tale fic #northern lights anthology

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socialmediasocrates · 1 year ago

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i'm not calling this accountability posting bc i refuse to be accountable

anyway here's an excerpt from where the sun sleeps remember when i used to post those transcript under the cut

He manages to corner Shae atop one of the beds and pretends to be getting ready to throw his pillow. A disguise, of course. A ruse, if you will. Dalton tackles him as soon as he holds a hand out to block the pillow, and the pair of them tumble laughing to the bed. They end up awkwardly tangled together, one of Shae’s legs hooked around one of Dalton’s, Dalton’s other knee over Shae’s hip. Laughing, flushed in the face, a little breathless, Dalton rests his stupid curly head on Shae’s chest to regain his composure. Like this, it’s hard to deny that he’s…pretty feels like a more accurate word than handsome. He’s got the kind of long eyelashes that Shae has heard his mothers bemoaning before. It’s always the boys, they say, they always have such pretty eyelashes.

And, you know, up close like this, when he’s a bit red in the face, he’s got freckles. They’re really light. You can only make them out when he’s, say, looking at you through his eyelashes with this weird look in his eyes. Which, Shae’s sure he’s mentioned before, are a kind of green that barely looks real. Borders on the kind of color you only get from contacts, honestly. They’ve got a sort of uncanny brightness to them; you’d almost believe that they’d reflect light in the dark, like a cat’s, but of course they wouldn’t. He's just Dalton Emetris, drama-mongering theater major with a lucky streak that never seems to extend to things like not losing his car keys.

Still. There’s something about his eyes. The longer Shae looks, the more he’s caught in them, the less he notices, Dalton shifting closer. Pianist’s fingers closed around a bicep, warm chest to his, a knee between his legs. Dalton smells like that strawberry shortcake body spray he got as a joke gift from a friend and then decided he liked it. His breath comes in little shallow puffs, like he’s trying to hold it. Up close like this, he’s got so many freckles. Under his eyes, across the bridge of his nose, down his jawline toward the pale column of his throat, turned pink like his face. Shae glances down at his lips, unbidden. He wonders what kissing Dalton would be like, and nearly finds out.

But then his phone rings.

#nano 2023 #nanowrimo #wtwcommunity #amwriting #spilled ink #moth the hack writer #where the sun sleeps

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