"No."

"Sorry, can't help you," the council says, the head mage waving his hand. Everything fades away, and I find myself in the archmage's cottage.

I kick and throw some stuff out of irritation for awhile, shouting at the ceiling. But when I kick the bed, the end post falls off, revealing a hollow hole inside.

I reach in, and find a small journal. Curious, I sit down on the bed and open it up.

"Dear reader, if you are reading this, it means I have FINALLY found a way out!!! Bless you, for you are most likely the one to thank for this turn of events.

"You see, I (an archmage, for 200 years), was never supposed to be. I cannot do magic to save my life, as you have most likely found out firsthand. I am not even sure how I ended up with the position, as I never dueled the previous archmage. The council simply appeared one day and declared it so. And so here I am, writing this book to tell you how I have managed for two centuries without magic."

My eyes are huge as they scan the pages. A few pages in, I discover that the previous arachmage, while unable to do much magic, was quite accomplished at potion work.

Anytime someone came to him needing something, or he was called upon to solve a problem, or banish a beast, he found or made a potion of some kind to suit the problem.

The book is filled with potions recipes, words to speak over them, infusions to add to objects.

"All this time," I marvel. "Maybe the council knew what they were doing after all. It wasn't magic the archmage was performing.

"It was science."

You are a terrible mage, yet through pure, dumb luck you managed to defeat an archmage in a duel, thus taking their place according to ancient tradition. Many mages protest against giving such a prestigious position to a clearly unqualified candidate, including yourself.

The princess smiled at him happily from across the battlefield as she rode away. 

Edmund smiled back and waved. The minute she was out of sight, his hand dropped and he ran it through his hair nervously as he returned to work, carting away the bodies of the enemy and friends alike. It was hard, emotional work, and thankfully, it took his mind off of the explanation he would have to give his family in a few short hours.

Finally, he was able to go home. As soon as Edmund walked in the door, he was bombarded with hugs from all six of his little siblings. They were all between the ages of 2 and 10, and the smaller ones tried climbing him like monkeys. Edmund laughed as he hugged them all, then his parents and grandparents who all lived with them in the four bedroom house. 

After Edmund finally got the little ones calmed down and regaled them with some of the tamer stories he had, he looked at his mother. 

Reading his mind, she started corralling the kids. “Come on, everyone,” she called. “Bedtime!” She ignored the groans and moans that came as she whisked them into their bedroom.

Edmund shifted awkwardly in his chair as he waited for her to come back. When she did, taking a seat beside his father, Edmund took a deep breath.

“I have some news to share,” he began. “I am…engaged.”

His grandmother hooted with joy. “Ha! Finally!”

“Really, Mabel,” Edmund’s mother said reproachfully. “Let the boy speak.”

His father turned to him. “Do we know the girl?”

Edmund wouldn’t meet any of their eyes as he mumbled, “Sort of.”

His grandfather crossed his arms. “It’s not that Katrina, is it? You do know she’s a bit strange. I don’t think you should marry her. Can you call it off?”

Edmund sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s not Katrina. And that’s not very nice, Grandfather.”

“Hmph!” his grandfather pouted. “Well, then, who is it?”

“Itstheoldestprincessprincessisolde!” Edmund said, all in a rush.

His grandmother put a hand to her ear. “Eh?”

Edmund took a deep breath. “It’s Princess Isolde.”

“What?!” came a shriek from behind them. Everyone whipped around, only to find seven-year-old Avalie peeking around the corner and eavesdropping. 

She started bouncing on her toes with excitement. “You’re gonna marry Princess Isolde?! She’s my favorite!”

Edmund’s mother put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you are not supposed to be up. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Edmund sighed. “She might as well stay now.”

Avalie ran over and jumped on his lap. “You’re my favorite! How did it happen?!” she asked eagerly.

He couldn’t help grinning at her. “Well, last year, remember when I was gone for so long? I was one of her personal guards. A few days ago, we ended up near each other again, out on the battlefield. I thought…” he let his voice trail off, remembering he was talking to a seven year old. The adults in the room knew what he meant, so he continued his story. “I knew I loved her, and I was pretty sure she loved me too. We grew close last year. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And…here we are.”

“Are you gonna go live in the palace?!” Avalie shrieked, ignoring when five adults shushed her. “That’s so exciting!”

Edmund laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. I believe she said she would send word in a few days. I’m…not too sure what to do next. We did just get out of a war.”

Avalie clutched him tightly. “Can I come with you?” 

He laughed again. “Fine by me! You’ll have to ask Isolde though.”

Avalie’s eyes went wide.

She, Avalie, was going to meet a princess! And not just any princess. Her very favorite one!

And Princess Isolde was going to marry her own brother!

That would make them sisters!!!

The rest of the adults were not as excited as Avalie, to say the least. The minute she was shooed off to bed for a second time, the questions resumed.

“How?”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“What in the world possessed you?”

“Her?”

“She’s the heir to the throne! What does that make you?”

“Why would she even say yes?”

Edmund glared at his grandmother, who had asked that particular question. “Gee, thanks.”

She shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The soldier had proposed to the princess out of a mix of getting it out now and the belief he wouldn't make it. Now that the two are alive after the final battle, she intends to make good on what he promised and he's now wondering on how to explain it to his family.

He shrugged as much as was possible, what with all the ropes holding him in place against the pole.

"Honestly, I'm good with either one."

The villian stopped her pacing. "Huh?"

He shrugged again. "I dunno, I'm kinda done with all this hero stuff. They ask me to do things that keep me up at night. If I'm dead, they can't make me do stuff anymore!"

She paused, staring at him in fascination. "That is...slightly morbid."

"And," he continued. "Let's be objectively honest. You're a gorgeous person."

The villian couldn't help her blush, though she crossed her arms and turned away to hide it, resuming her pacing.

The hero watched her for a few more minutes before he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Did you...did you really want to kiss me - or kill me - or was that just messing with my head? I can never tell with you."

She ignored him and walked away, out of his sight line. He could hear her rummaging through what he assumed were her possessions. Several minutes later, the villian walked back into view, carrying a backpack that was obviously stuffed.

One eyebrow raised as the hero asked, "Going somewhere?"

She raised her eyebrows right back. "Yeah, to my sister's place. If you don't want to do this little dance anymore, it takes all the fun out of it."

"Now, I didn't say that-"

"So," she interrupted. "Wanna come with me?"

Writing Prompt #2848

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Kiss you. Kill you. I'm not sure yet."

“Hey!” I cry out in shock. Jason obviously can’t hear me, up on the platform through the screaming crowds, as he kisses Ella soundly on the lips.

When they pull apart, Ella’s face is red. They turn to the crowd and bow proudly.

I am in shock. There are tears pouring down my face, but I can’t feel them. I stare numbly at the stage. I pinch my arm to make sure I’m awake. 

It’s not a nightmare. It’s real.

The tall guy next to me looks over and frowns. He shouts over the noise, “Hey man, are you okay?”

I can only shake my head, eyes locked on the stage where Jason and Ella are holding hands and staring at each other as they answer questions from the reporters.

The man takes my arm, leading me onto a side street a few blocks away, where the noise is significantly reduced. 

“What happened?” he asks, offering me a bottle of water. 

“Tha-that’s my girlfriend,” I say shakily. 

His eyes go wide. 

“And,” I continue, gulping the water. “My best friend Jason. We’ve known each other since we were six! And Ella…”

I can feel the tears now, hot tears falling down my face as I start to sob. 

The man sighs deeply. “I’m sorry, man. That’s rough. I’m George, by the way.”

He offers his hand to shake, and I accept it with a shaky laugh. 

“Dylan.”

I wipe my eyes roughly, trying to stop the tears. Now that I’m a bit less shocked, I’m angry. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” George asks carefully. 

My hands clench into fists. “We’ve been dating for three years! I was going to…”

My voice trails off and I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small box. I thrust it at George angrily, putting my head in my hands. 

George doesn’t have to open it to know that the box contains a ring.

“I was going to ask tonight,” I whisper. 

He tries to hand the box back. “Call her. Or him. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding?”

I know deep down that he’s wrong, but I can’t ignore the brief hope that flares up in my chest at the possibility. 

I fumble my phone out of my pocket and desperately press Ella’s name, putting it on speaker. 

George and I listen to it ring several times before she picks up.

“Hey, baby!” Her voice is breathless. “I’m kinda busy, can I call you back?”

I close my eyes, hearing the crowd in the background. “Where are you, Ella? I was going to surprise you at work.”

This was true. That had been my pan before the whole fiasco happened and the streets were blocked.

“Oh, you know,” she says. “Just…in the back, working on something.”

“Sweetheart,” I say quietly. “Have you seen or talked to Jason today? He was supposed to meet me for lunch, but he never showed up.”

“Jason?” Ella’s voice jumps up an almost imperceptible note. “No, I haven’t seen Jason today! Listen, I’ll call you back in a few hours, baby. I’m really busy right now, you can stop by then, okay?”

George shakes his head slowly, eyes angry for me, a bit sad.

I can’t stop the tremble in my voice as I say, “Never mind, Ella. I saw you. It’s over between us. You can tell Jason the same thing from me. I don’t ever want to talk to you ever again.”

I stare at the phone in front of me as Ella gasps and sputters, protesting. I can’t bring myself to hang up.

So George leans over and does it for me, turning my phone off and handing it back to me.

“I, uh, left my bag back there,” I mumble, pointing back to where we had come from, where the crowds were still screaming. 

George nods. “Look, I gotta get back to work, but I put my number in your phone. If you wanna catch up later, talk, get coffee, whatever, just text me.”

I nod, with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

I push my way back through the crowds, miraculously finding my things right where I had left them. Ella and Jason are still on the platform, though now they look considerably less happy.

But their hands are still tangled together between them. 

Ella scans the crowd. Eventually, her eyes find mine. She nudges Jason and they both lock eyes with me, clearly pleading with me to talk to them.

I find it funny that in doing this, they ignore the reporter currently talking to them. He looks confused, trying to see who they are looking at.

I shake my head and turn around, pushing my way out of the crowd.

I hope my disgust was clear on my face.

You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.

*oops, my hand slipped. it's really long*

“Uhhh…” 

I feel like I should probably be mad or something, but all I am is thoroughly confused. My family is in the same room as Josie’s and no one is yelling or threatening anyone.

Josie throws herself on the bed, sobbing. Taken aback, I put my arms around her, uncomfortable, but unwilling to not try to comfort her.

My father walks over to the bed and puts a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Glad to see you awake, son.”

I nod quietly as my mother walks over as well, tears in her eyes.

“The doctors said it would be a miracle if you woke up,” she whimpered, lifting a tissue to dab her eyes. “Josie told us everything.”

Josie sits up a little and I can see her face, tear-stained. To most of the room, I’m sure she looks like she’s relieved to see me awake, but I can see something else underneath that. Fear?

What did she tell them?

Josie’s older sister helps their dad to his feet, and he comes over as well, Josie scooting backwards and off the bed to make room for him. The man had scared me since I was a child, and not much had changed in the 15 years since then. 

He stares into my eyes intensely. “It was you?”

Everyone in the room seems to hold their breath. They all wait for me to say something. Because they are all turned toward me, no one sees Josie clasp her hands, pleading silently with me to say yes.

Slowly, I nod. “Yes, sir.”

Everyone exhales. Then, a flurry of activity comes out of nowhere. Parents asking questions, sisters talking over each other, brothers causing a general upheaval. 

No one sees the look of gratitude Josie gives me.

Finally, after what seems like hours, but is probably only minutes, a doctor and nurse show up and shoos everyone out. After a quick check, they let one person come back in. 

Josie walks in sheepishly. “Thank you.”

“How long was I out?!” I demand quietly. “What’s going on? Why is no one killing each other? And I’m pretty sure you weren’t pregnant the last time I saw you!”

Josie laughs as she eases herself into a chair. “Do you want me to explain, or do you just want to keep asking questions?”

I zip my lips and settle back into the bed, ignoring the headache pounding behind my temples.

“It’s only been about 3 months since the accident,” she starts. “I was about 5 months along, hiding my bump under baggy clothes, not going out much. My parents want me to marry the father, but…I can’t.”

I open my mouth but she cuts me off. “Just listen, okay?”

She waits for my nod before continuing. “The doctors, they thought you wouldn’t wake up. Of course I hoped you would! I really did! I know that we’ve never been really close or anything, but our parents' feud has never been ours, and I still remember how it was back when we were little. So…I told my parents that you were the father.”

“What?!”

“Shh! They thought you wouldn’t wake up! I thought that it would be the right thing! They think its you, you die, I’m out. But…here we are.”

I am furious. “You dragged me into this without asking!”

Josie looks suitably guilty. “I know. And I’m so sorry. Really.”

I rub my forehead, the throbbing growing more persistent. “So, who’s the real father? Cause I know it’s not me.”

Josie sighs. “I…don’t really know. Not because I was sleeping around!” she rushes to say. “I was attacked. But if I tell my family that, you know what will happen.”

Unfortunately, I did. The last time anyone even looked at Josie wrong was in elementary school. Her parents showed up at recess and terrorized the kid out of sight of everyone until he was limp with fear. There were threats taped to his family’s mailbox and front door for weeks. Rumors said that Josie’s dad even attacked the kid’s father, but no one actually knew if that was true. 

If Josie’s family knew that someone had physically attacked their youngest daughter, the baby of their family, resulting in her pregnancy…there wouldn’t be anything left of the guy to find.

I sigh. “I hate to say it, but I’m failing to see the problem with that. If he attacked you…”

Josie shrugged. “I can’t be sure of who it was. I suspect, but it was dark. I’m just not positive.”

“So, what? You told them that we were dating in secret?”

She nods. “And now…” she falls silent, not meeting my eyes.

“What?”

Josie looks out the window, mumbling, “They want us to get married now. Before the baby comes in a month.”

“Josie!”

When she looks back at me, there are tears in her eyes. “Please. I will never ask you for anything else. All it has to be is a legal marriage. We don’t even have to live together. As long as there is someone claiming me and this baby, I think my parents will be satisfied.”

“Do I have a choice?” I grumble, crossing my arms and glaring at her.

She stares at me seriously. “Of course. If you say no, I will tell everyone that I lied, take the pressure off of you. I’ll try to find someone else, though I’ve exhausted most of my options. Or I’ll end up on my own. My parents already said they would never talk to me again if I didn’t do this. I can do it alone, I really can. I have a good job. It’ll just be…difficult.”

She holds her breath, waiting to see if I say anything. When I don’t, she slowly exhales and gets up with a grunt. “Well, thanks anyway. I’m glad you’re awake. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Josie starts toward the door, grabbing her things along the way. 

“Josie, wait.”

She turns, hope flooding her face.

I grin. “Let’s do it. But we do it my way.”

You wake up in the hospital after a major accident. To your confusion, your rival (your families have been feuding for years) is there crying tears of relief and calling you 'sweetheart.' What's even stranger is that she looks older and is visibly pregnant.

I rolled my eyes at my husband. “It’s enough for me, but not for my captain of the guard. If you want to fight, you fight under him, and he will insist on the oath. It’s not too bad, I took it yesterday”

He knelt in front of me, giving me puppy dog eyes. “I already took an oath. Perhaps you might recall? I do believe you were there as well. About 10 months ago… Exciting day… In the woods… Our families and friends were there… You wore the most beautiful dress…”

I laughed. “Flattery will get you nowhere, love.”

He took my hands and kissed them. “But it’s true! How is it flattery when every word is a fact?”

I smiled at him and leaned down, touching my forehead to his. “I love you.”

He whispered the words back to me, and we remained like that for several minutes, breathing in the scent of each other, feeling the light touch and using it to anchor ourselves to the earth. The battle would begin in a few short days, and everything would change, for a better world hopefully.

Finally my love spoke again. “I truly do want to fight for you. I will. I will take whatever oath I need to. If the cause puts you on the throne, I believe in it.”

I grinned at him. “Thank you.”

Writing Prompt #2829

"Are you willing to die for the cause?"

"No. But I am willing to die for you. Is that not enough?"

I frown. "You have a therapist?"

He scoffs. "I kill people for a living. Of course I have a therapist! Pamela is completely qualified, if that's what you're worried about."

My brow furrows. "So...you want me, your public nemesis number 1, to come to your home, chill in your guest room, and chat with your therapist?"

He rolls his eyes. "That's not...actually, yeah. That's pretty accurate."

"Why?"

"I need someone around that I'm not paying to keep me company."

I think that was supposed to be a joke, but his delivery was a bit to dry, too forced. Is he...lonely? I shake my head. "But why are you offering that to me? What if I say no?"

He growls. "I just offered you mercy. Your life. And your questioning me? I threatened your life and you actually asked me to.... I don't think you're okay." He folds his arms as if to say, I win. Give it your best shot. The prick even raises his eyebrows to taunt me. Jerk.

I grit my teeth. "So you just want me to sit around your house all day? Where's the fun in that?"

He rubs a hand on his temples. "What part of 'talk to my therapist' did you not understand? I'm serious. We've been fighting over this kingdom for years, and you've always put up a fight."

I know when I've lost a fight, and this is no different. I have a feeling that even if I sit down and refuse to move, he would knock me out and take me back anyway.

I sigh. "Fine, I'll meet Pamela. She better be a good listener."

Under the mask, I think I can see a smile. "She is."

And I know I must have imagined it, but later, I could swear that he mumbled under his breath, "And so am I."

When the villain demanded that you submit or be destroyed you just apathetically shrugged and braced yourself for death. You were surprised when the villain did not kill you and instead offered you a nice, comfortable room and an appointment with their personal therapist.

“Today has been pretty good. Not many visitors. I started a new book about-” My voice cuts off abruptly as I stare at her. “You…you just wasted your question. Why would you do that?”

She smiles gently. “I didn’t need it.”

“But…” I am lost. Confused. “Why?”

“Because,” she says, reaching out and putting her hand on my arm. “I thought you could use a friend. So could I. What’s your book about?”

Numbly, I start explaining the intricacies of my book, offering her some refreshments.

And that is how the strangest friendship I’ve ever had began.

You have been a mountaintop prophet for 1,000 years. Each person only gets one question and you’re sure you’ve heard every question that can be asked. Until one day someone uses their one question to ask, “How are you doing?”

"You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world...but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices."

- John Green, The Fault In Our Stars

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.