Complications with Invisibility

Prompt: Include a mirror as an integral part of your scene.

I saw this prompt and knew it would be good. I had an upcoming scene planned out and so my goal was to write my way there. And so I did. I finished up the story arc and moved on to the one featuring AN INVISIBLE BATTLE!!! I'm a little excited to write this. I think this will be the last episode arc I write before taking a break to work on other things in July.

Also, all the spells are in Latin if you are curious.

Favourite writing from this week: 

“I did!” he exclaimed. “I am totally invisible! See?” He spun in a circle, his arms out wide.

William looked up. As he couldn’t see his ward, he took a guess at where he was. “Congratulations. Although may I remind you that being unseen does not work as well for stealth if you keep talking.”

“Ah, right. Well I need to jot that down. Find a spell for silence.” A quill lifted from the table and flew across the room in Merlin’s hand.

“Also note down that things you pick up do not become invisible,” William advised.

Merlin stood in front of the mirror and saw only the quill in his hand. “Fiat fiet istud absconditum ab oculis pulsat eburno.” The quill melted from his view. Returning to his notebook, Merlin noticed the complication this presented. “Ah. That is going to make things difficult.”

“What is it?” William asked. “Can you undo the spell?”

“Not that. Although let me try that first. Quarum sacra fero dimittere placendi.” He looked again and saw both the quill and his own body. He walked back to Sir William. “If I make the quill invisible, it is invisible to me as well. Just as I can’t see myself, I also can’t seen anything I make invisible.”

“That is going to be difficult. I expect that it will become easier with practice. Already you do many things without needing to see them. If you had to look at your feet in order to walk, you would run into everything instead. Just like any other skill,” William said.

“Practice makes perfect,” Merlin finished. “I know, you have told me thousands of times. I guess that means I have to practice then.” With the thrill of mastering this spell, Merlin’s spirits wouldn’t stay down for long. “You’ll see me later. Et facti sunt abscondita est ab oculis triae. Sit enim corpus meum de indumentis occultatum est ut exsisto I.” And he vanished from sight.

All the Alliterations

Prompt: Make 3 writing related confessions

1. I have an unhealthy love of alliterations. There is an incredibly high chance that any chapter title, or even story title, of mine will be an alliteration and I will have been gleeful while brainstorming.

2. Whenever I can, I slip in accurate astronomy. If I mention the moon, I know darn well what phase it is in if you can see it at that height at that time of day. I will mention planets being seen, and in my scifi story, well, that one practically revolves around astronomy.

3. I unashamedly write in class. Most of the time if it looks like I am taking intense notes in class, I am probably writing a story. This could be random brainstorming, small sections of outlines, or just writing the story itself. This is usually to help me stay focused in class, I kinda need to keep my hands moving, especially if I'm tired or bored in class.

This bit of writing was completely unplanned. There was never going to be a trial, there was never going to be a visit to the dungeons, and it was not going to go darker like this. And yet, I really like what the fingers typed.

Favourite writing from this week: 

It had been dark for hours when Merlin crept down the stairs into the dungeons. Lancelot was the ranking guard and when she saw Merlin approach he sent his subordinate to do a quick check on the other end of the dungeons. With an exchange of nods, Merlin came down the stairs the rest of the way.

Lancelot expected Merlin to just walk past, but he stopped first.

“I need your opinion on how well this disguise works.” Merlin lifted a metal pendant on a cord out from under his tunic and pressed one of the markings. To Lancelot’s eyes, his friend appeared to ripple like a disturbance in a lake and then a new person stood before him. “What do you think?”

When he spoke it was slightly deeper. “Do I look like myself?”

Lancelot brought a torch from the wall closer to see better. But even with the additional light, it did not look like Merlin. He shook his head. Merlin beamed and Lancelot had to stifle a laugh. “No disguise can hide that smile though. Try not to be too happy about the interrogation.”

Merlin schooled his features again. “I won’t.” With a nod of thanks he put his hood back up and walked to the end of the row, stopping in front of the cell holding Usco. Knowing the other prison guard would likely return, he wordlessly cast a charm to erect a sound barrier. Then he waited.

It didn’t take long for the prisoner to open his eyes and see his visitor. He quickly sat up and grabbed at his waist, forgetting that his blades had been confiscated. “Who are you?”

“It matters not. What matters is that you tried to assassinate Prince Arthur.”

“So. What’s it to you?” Usco leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

“You were not working alone. Who was your contact?”

“No one.”

Merlin snapped out a word and Usco sucked in a sharp breath, his hand now cradled against his chest. He looked up at Merlin.

“That is a lie,” Merlin said. “Letters were found in your room.”

“You have magic.”

Merlin continued over his astonishment. “Even now they are being translated.”

“Why would you protect the Pendragons?”

Again Merlin paid him no mind, his voice remaining even. “It would be in your best interests to tell me who you work for before I find out the long way.”

“What can you offer me? I am going to die in the morning. I doubt you would free me.”

“In my time living in Camelot, I have seen many executions. And if I have learned one thing, it is that they are imperfect. They take a long time. You should be grateful your death is not by pyre. Those take the longest. An average of eleven minutes longer than beheading. Seven minutes longer than hanging.” He paused, letting that detailed knowledge sink in. Merlin wished he did not know the statistics. He wished he had a small data set. “You know I have magic; I can control just how long yours will last.”

Usco seemed to consider this. Merlin waited patiently. Mostly. “The next patrol will come this way in five minutes. Decide quickly. How much pain do you wish to experience?”

He stuck his chin up proudly. “You can do what you want. I want to see Camelot fall. I will do nothing to help you. Make it as painful as you wish. I will still be dead and my masters will know I haven’t betrayed them.”

“Very well then.” Merlin walked away, cloak trailing behind from his long strides.

“Have fun decoding the letters,” Usco called after him and Merlin wanted to groan. Not only were they in a rare language for these parts, but they were in code too.

The Dais of Dull

Prompt: Make a character overreact to something.

Playing catch up this week. I'm having so much fun writing this story. I am very tires so straight on to the writing.

Favourite writing from this week: 

Merlin was incredibly grateful that he had a day of rest at the druid camp before needing to head back to Camelot. He had danced until sunrise with many of the others druids who had not dropped off to sleep sooner. It seemed a far longer walk back to the cave in the morning, but when they arrived he was beyond grateful for the lack of sun shining into the cave room he was sleeping in. Although with how tired he was, it might not have made any difference.

But thankfully he was rested enough because Arthur was not shy in heaping chores upon him when he returned. In a few days, Camelot was to hold it’s own celebration of a good harvest. This one in the form of an open tournament.

Traditionally, only knights were able to compete in the tournaments. There were only two exceptions: the Decennial Tournament–a tournament held every ten years with no rules‒and the Harvest Tournament. Although perhaps it would be more accurate to say tournaments, plural. There was the normal tournament for knights and a lower circuit for anyone to compete in. Ths was usually guards, although sometimes an odd commoner or fifth son of a fifth son from another kingdom would compete.

Winning the lower circuit tournament would result in knighthood. It was an honour fought for fiercly.

This year, Merlin would actually have less work to do as Arthur would not be competing in the tournament. His father wanted him to host it this year; a duty Arthur was not happy with. “It’s going to be incredibly dull,” Arthur complained. “I have to sit on the dais and watch people do all the fun fighting. Do you have any idea how dull it is to watch when you can’t partake?”

“It is. I have been competing every year since I was ten and my instructors decided I was skilled enough to make it through the first round.” Arthur smiled at the memory. “Looking back, they may have just agreed to stop my pestering. I certainly came nowhere near winning.  And now I have to sit and watch again.”

“Don’t forget you have to give a speech as well,” Merlin said.

Arthur only groaned and dropped his head to the table.

“I’ve already written it for you. It’s on your desk when you are ready to face your responsibilities.” Merlin pretended not to hear the muffled denials of ever being ready. “I’ve got things to do in town before the evening rush. I’ll send someone to clear away your supper.”

Arthur merely flapped a hand in dismissal.