“She must never find out what happened to her mother,”Morgienne’s voice hissed, “the favour of Gen Ceanach was mine to take and that bitch, Moira, overstepped her authority. At any rate, it doesn’t matter anymore
Tag Archives: fannyfae
Write about an overheard remark or secret that you were not supposed to have heard.
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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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From A Spider’s Web
This is an installment from Pan Historia, and the novel, A Spider’s Web, placed in 13th Century Scotland. This istallment is told from the point of view of Sir Bothain MacKay, who is Fanny’s father in the story. Anything I write around Fanny is usually in first person, but this particular piece is not. If the reader would forgive me, I am a bit rusty on third person writing.
(Scotland) Somewhere Between the Highlands and the Sea
ir Bothain MacKay turned in his saddle to look at the heavily veiled and cloaked figure that rode behind him. They would only have to endure the relentless Scottish downpour a few more miles and then they would be home.
It had been years since he had lain eyes upon his daughter, and now it was as if he didn’t know her. She had married a Copt, she did, an Egyptian. As far as Bothain MacKay was concerned, they were barely Christian, barely saved from the heathen Moors that was quickly threatening to overrun the remaining followers of Christ in Egypt. The latest Crusade had been bloody and brutal and the forces of Christendom were taking a beating. Continue reading
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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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Describe Where You Grew Up
I was born near a small village between Cape Wrath on the Coast of Scotland, and the Highlands, deep within those ancient lands that had been held since time immemorial by Clan MacKay. I was born the daughter of a devoted Priestess of the Great Mother Goddess, the Mother of all Fortune and Magic, and my father was an Unseelie Sidhe nobleman. I was born in the times when Mankind and Fae lived in peace.
Shortly after I was born, my mother took me to the Fortunate Island, where she had served the High Lady, Morgienne. I was still a babe at the breast when she died. Morgienne raised me as her own daughter, and I grew up on this strange island where all women upon it know all of the magic in the whole of the world of humans, and a good portion of that magic that is used within the Fae realms as well.
It is a beautiful Island with lakes and mountains, rounded by deep meadows, and orchards of apples, peaches, mangoes and every manner of fruit that has delighted the world since the beginning of time. No hail, nor torrential rain nor snow has e’er fallen upon the Fortunate Island. The wooded groves and deep forests know every manner of magical and healing herb, and plenty is the only order that there can possibly be. There are marble shrines and temples that dot the Island. Lazily stretching and shaded paths wind past the ornate and impressive structures, some of them feeding into the Island’s centre, and some meander toward the shores of the lakes or to the sea. My childhood was spent exploring every realm of this place. Every cave was a palace, every forest glade a fortress, and in my youngest imaginations, even then, I ruled as Queen.
My favorite tree on the entire island is the ancient mimosa that is large and gnarled. It’s branches and foliage that look like miniature palm fronds, are profusely interspersed with the pink feathery flowers that hold the essence of the most sacred perfume to our people. It would take nearly a hundred stone of flowers to produce one ounce of the sacred oil. I have a small blue bottle of the perfume that has lasted me nearly five hundred years. That tree was my very best friend, when at times I felt that I had none. Its spirit and mine are bonded as every priestess is bound to some totem animal or plant spirit. Even as a child I would sing to it, or play beneath it. At other times I would sleep nestled safely in its branches, as if the tree was a great and loving father, rooted in the rich yet sometimes rocky soil of the Fortunate Isle.
Somehow, over the course of my life, I have ne’er tired of living on an Island. I have gone to many islands. I have conquered them, been stranded upon them. I have been met by hostile natives on the beaches of still others, and yet, each one, in its own way, reminded me so vividly of the Island home where I grew up, and the one place that I will never forget.
Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Fiction / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 535
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Swiped from atia, alan_shore,indianrunner and a host of others
I would like any and all of you to make a comment here and tell me something you don’t like about me. Don’t hold back, whatever you want to say won’t effect how I feel about you, so you can say what you want, with no reprocussions. Tell me why you hate me. But try to impress me. Being a Wytch I have heard all manner of reasons why I would be hated. Be original.
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When in your life did you feel the most alone?
A Wytch, if she is one worth her salt, is in essence always alone, whether she be surrounded by people or not. We stand on the precipice, one foot in the world of form and the other outside of it. Not so very long ago, however, I had set my sights on finding my old paramour, Douglas. In the course of events, I was able to connnect with his niece, Morgan Adams, who was a great Captain in her own right. It was upon her kindness that I found myself thrust. It was at this time, over dinner in her cabin that I was asked to recount this very question.
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The Proudest of Moments
I’faith, there has been much in my life to be proud of that I have done. When I was a very young priestess on the Fortunate Isle, I brought down the High Lady after her many years of rule. Some say she ruled by terror and manipulation for a hundred years. It was a determined young girl with a gift for deciet that brought about her undoing. That girl was myself. Instead of basking in that pride, I walked away from it, and rather than take up the mantle and rule there as Morgienne had, I left.
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Fanny Fae 