Tag Archives: fae wars

Failure…

ailure?

I don’t believe in failure. Defeat and retreat are not synonymous with failure. The only way that a person could ever truly fail is if they gave up, or worse, refused to try. Everyone has setbacks, everyone experiences defeat. But to crumple up and decide that the experience is a failure is to refuse to learn from it. The refusal to improvise, adapt and overcome is where failure lies. I have had my fair share of defeat and dined on heaping servings of crow.

One such incident during the Fae Wars was when the Fortunate Island fell to the forces of Prince Itet. I had thought I would be able to hold the Ancient City against him and his allies. We were an island of Priestesses, though some of us were trained in weapons and warfare as well as the Temple arts, we were defeated – I was defeated.

But from the moment my foot touched the helm of the barge that carried away from home, I looked over my shoulder at the city and knew that I would return to retake what was mine. In the mists, the towers stood imperious and proud, behind them lay the mountains, a deep lapis blue. The banners of my house still flew from the pitched rooftops of the castle, but not for long. By the time that we were halfway across the bay, some of Itet’s army had made their way to the tower and were pulling down the banner.

“Enjoy your victory…for now, Itet,” I whispered. My mind and my heart burned with thoughts of revenge. In that moment such dark emotions often serve to spur us back from the precipice defeat.

The bargeman mearely looked from his pole at me as if I had lost my mind. He was, however, both careful and wise to remain silent.

Muse:Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character, folklore, mythology
Word Count: 282
Crossposted to

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What is the greatest sacrifice you’ve made for love?

hen the snows of February were deep on the Island of Scotland, it was not so on the Fortunate Isle. Through thick clouds of incense and herbs burned on thuribles and pain I gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She, like her father in his youth, had masses of red hair. Her birth, something that might normally have been hailed as a fortuitous event upon the Isle, for me there was only a strong sense of foreboding.

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