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.

Deliver Dramatic Line, Vanish

Prompt: “It’s time to leave. And there’s no coming back.”

I don't remember where I had planned for this quote to go, but when I looked at the prompt again this morning it was a perfect line to add into what I had written the previous day. A great ending line by a mystery character as you will see below.

I've been moving along great on this story and I am very excited. I have a month more to work on this before I turn my writing attention to 007 Fest and write mostly Bond fics for the month. Most importantly, my beta should be returning from her vacation soon and I can't wait to see what she thinks of how this is coming along.

Favourite writing from this week: 

“Ah, there he is,” Arthur said when the riders broke out of the trees. “You said you would have strawberries; I don't see any.”

“I said no such thing.” Merlin countered. “Those aren't in season anymore in Camelot. For that matter, neither are the fae.”

At that, the mounted men drew their swords and Arthur did the same. He pointed it at The girl’s heart.

“Arthur?” she asked, voice shaking. “What is going on?”

“You can drop the act,” he replied. “We know you are not Guinevere. You are an imposter.”

“What? Of course it is me,” she protested.

Arthur waved his free hand and the guards held up their disks. Spread about the circle, she couldn't escape seeing the magenta glow.

With a very unnatural snarl, she dropped the guise. She was still the same height, but nearly everything else changed. Her cloth dress became moss, her skin the colour of soured milk, and eyes a vivid green. Her ears lengthened and stuck out from her frizzy hair.

Arthur backed up a step, but the sword in his hand remained steady.

“I was so close,” the creature sneered. “You would have been disgraced, flirting with a serving girl. And then what would the world think of the shining Prince of Camelot?”

“The world would think no worse of him,” Merlin said in a quiet, stern voice. The gancana turned to look at him. “They would see a prince who chose love over political gain. They would see hope for a Queen who could understand the problems of the common people. They would see a prince who is his own man, not a duplicate of his father.”

She cocked her head to the side and looked more closely at the man speaking. He was not holding a sword, he was not one of the shiny men who could hurt her. And yet something in the way he spoke made her fear him more than the others. The sword to her chest seemed far less worrisome than provoking the wrath of this man.

Arthur was also surprised by the tone of Merlin’s voice, but before he could add anything further, a crack of thunder was heard and a woman appeared in the clearing. A flowing midnight blue and black cloak danced in a nonexistent wind.

“I’ll be taking this one off your hands,” she said imperiously. With a firm tug, she pulled the gancana away from Arthur. “She will bother you no further. You can return those disks,” she spat the word like a curse, “to the vaults. Or better yet to the hellfires of the earth.”

Pinning the gancana with her stare, she said sternly, “It’s time to leave. And there’s no coming back.” She gave a slight nod in Arthur’s direction and vanished as fast as she had come, taking the creature with her.

A Dusting of Magic

Prompt: Subtly mention something strange on the mantle

I have had a busy couple weeks and I thought this one would be a prompt I would have to catch up on way later, but I realized that I actually did include it in my writing this week. I guess my subconscious does wordbound better than I.

I am also very pleased that this Merlin fanfiction is coming together really well. I struggled a little trying to balance summary with prose in the last arc, but it is going smoothly in this arc so I am feeling much better.

Favourite writing from this week: 

When Merlin arrived the next morning to serve Arthur his breakfast, he noticed an elaborate display of flowers on the mantelpiece. When he asked the prince about them, he refused to say who they were from and Merlin let it drop. Over the next week, Merlin continued to take his polishing duties outside to sit in the garden with Gwen while the weather was still pleasant. And each evening Merlin found more flowers in Arthur’s room. It wasn’t until the 25th of September that they noticed anything amiss. “Oh Gwen was telling me, well hinting at, okay she implied, that she would like to have lunch with you in the gardens,” Merlin was saying. “Not exclusively with you, but she would like you to join us. Although I think she does want to have some one on one time with you, if you know what I mean.” Merlin waggled his eyebrows. “You must have been mistaken,” Arthur said as he pulled on his nightclothes. “No, I am very good at reading people and Gwen wasn’t being subtle.” “But I had lunch with her only yesterday.” Merlin paused in his cleaning. “Yesterday?” “Yes, yesterday. Do you need a reminder of how days of the week work?” Arthur stepped out from behind the screen. “No. Only, I had lunch with her yesterday. All this past week in fact.” He turned to meet Arthur’s eyes. In any other kingdom they might have assumed Gwen was having lunch with them both, or one of them was misremembering things, but this was Camelot. A tendril of dread curled through Merlin’s chest. “So did I.” Arthur sat down at his table. “That is who I got those flowers from.” Merlin straightened up and peered at the flowers. It was faint, it would require a closer look without the prince in the room, but he thought he could detect a dusting of magic. “This is not good.” “No.” “Before we jump to conclusions, I propose we continue as normal tomorrow but pay close attention to the chimes.” Merlin finished tending the fire and turned down the bed. “I’ll spend the day with Gwen again and you can laze around in here or whatever.” “I do not laze!” Arthur protested. “I have been working on reports and balancing taxes. All these extra duties my father has given me lately.” “Okay fine, stay in here working until Gwen comes again. Is she coming again?” “She never says,” Arthur said, climbing into bed. “She just comes if she is not busy. Never stays too long either.” “Well then we will both stay alert tomorrow. Goodnight Arthur.” “Goodnight Merlin.”

The Rule of Threes

Prompt: What are your favourite writing craft books?

I don't have a lot of these to begin with. I have taken very few writing courses; I mostly just write and learn from my beta readers. But one book that  has helped me a lot is Spunk & Bite. The title itself is a play on a small silver book that is also about writing craft by Strunk and White, but this version is specifically comedy writing. Now obviously this is not what you want to pick up if you are a stand up comedian, but it is also not a book to avoid if you don't write stories where humour is your main genre.

This gift of this book is that it teaches you about what your readers are expecting and how to subvert that. The rule of threes is one I use a lot. The first two items in the list are things the reader expects, but at the third, you turn it around. To build up a little extra suspense, make your description for each of these items increase. For example: On my bookshelf I have a small plant, a ceramic bowl from the market, and my very own expandable gateway to an alternate dimension. I think I can safely say you did not see that last one coming. But if I had put that first, or even second, whatever came after it would be lost in the reader's mind. This not only catches the reader off guard, but it directs their focus.

But let's turn our focus to what I have written this week, now that the semester is done. What's that? Not much? *sigh* My muses have abandoned me, but I have skeleton plots so I am able to say that I have started my writing project for the summer. It is going to be a challenge and I am excited. Set in my own version of the BBC Merlin universe, we are beginning in Uther's reign and heading through to the Golden Age. Along the way I will be trying to write chapters that will have two timelines in each; one before the magic reveal, one afterwards. This trick will be to get each adventure to connect even if they are separated by a few years. Like I said, it will be a challenge. Here is a bit from the very beginning of the story. See if you can spot the triplet.

Favourite writing from this week: 

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought you ready to rule two years ago.”

Arthur looked over to see Merlin’s twitch of a smile.

“Even if Prince Prat has a certain ring to it.”

Arthur scowled and shoved Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin shoved him right back.

“And I suppose you want to take credit for that?” Arthur asked.

“Well it was two years ago I decided it would be a good idea to save your life and ended up as your servant. Still not sure how that is a reward. But Gwen must get some credit as well. She will make a good Queen.”

Arthur snorted. “My father would never allow that. He has tried to arrange marriages for me before but the councilors have held him off, saying I must become my own man first before being given a wife. That argument won’t last much longer. And whoever it is, the marriage will not be for love.”

“And you love Gwen.”

Arthur nodded. “Very much.”

“Well, keep faith. Keep delaying your Father until he dies. I don’t mean I am going to kill him you dunce. But no one lives forever. And once he is gone, you are the highest power in the land. You can choose your own Queen.”

“You know, Merlin?” Arthur asked. “Sometimes, you seem almost—”

“Wise? Brilliant? Like a gift of a god come to bless you and guide you?” Merlin suggested when Arthur broke off.

“Trouble.”

“What?” Merlin gasped, overplaying the hurt. “How am I trouble?”

“In many ways, but I actually was talking about that.” Arthur pointed East where a column of dust was rising in the distance. “No one ride that fast unless there is trouble.”

Merlin nodded and they both stood. “Back to the castle then.”

Returning Home

Prompt: "She turned away and walked back toward the house."

Hey, long time no see. That is what happens at the end of term. But I only have one more thing left and that means I can catch up on Wordbound. I wasn't totally abandoning my writing for two weeks, but it was mostly editng and planning and boy do I have an epic story that is in the works.

But for now, this is a short ficlet, a snapshot if you will, of my main character from my nanowrimo story returning home after her adventure.

Favourite writing from this week: 

She turned away and walked back toward the house. It would be so easy to get back on the train, go back to the portal and be whisked away again. She would be back with her friends. Sure she had friends here on Earth, but they seemed less somehow. As if she had only known the buildings of a modest village and then was shown the splendor of Rome, of Berlin, of any of the great capitols of the world. The small homes were still the same sturdy homes of brick and mortar and drywall. But they were never again going to be seen as the pinnacle of all one could hope to build.

Standing in front of her flat, she pulled out her keyring from the inside zipper pocket of her bag. She was glad she had not lost it along the way. She struggled more than usual with the lock, having forgotten the exact trick of a quick turn. Her umbrella went in the stand, her shoes were kicked off at the mat, her bag came with her upstairs.


Hardly anything had changed. Of course the newspapers had told her she hadn’t actually been gone very long at all-only a few hours. And yet, she had been gone for three months. Her phone lit up with a text asking about weekend plans. Dinner at the Blue Anchor and then hitting the clubs. She thought of the last club she had been to. She smiled at the memory of the wild dancing and the other dances she learned in that galaxy so far away. Maybe once she settled back into life on Earth she would consider joining, but for now she texted back an apology and pulled her textbooks out. She had homework due on Monday and she hadn’t been to class in ages.