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officialleehadan · 2 years

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Rescuing Allies

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Prompt: Pride of Place

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Tilsie knew what she looked like.

She as a short, chubby cook, with hair that was fluffing out of her flour-dusted braid. Her shoes were sensible, and her dress was simple, with only a little embroidery around the hems to mark her position as the pastry cook of the whole castle. Her arms were thick with muscle, and her face was closer to round than it was to fine-featured.

When one was the chosen lover of the most beautiful woman in the world, such comparisons were inevitable, and while Atteila had made her opinion on Tilly’s body very clear, others were not so kind. Tilly knew she was a pretty woman, but she was the kind of pretty that married the miller down the road and put out a dozen children, not the kind that fell in love with a princess and spirited her and a prince out of a castle.

Now, however, it seemed that there was no time to indulge her own insecurities. Atteila and Hanver were counting on her. She couldn’t let them down.

So Tilly hastily pulled her hair free of her braid, shook as much of the flour out as she could, and shook out her skirts. There were some benefits to being clearly of the peasant stock. No one would mistake Tilly for a royal. She never thought she would be grateful for that.

The stables weren’t deserted. A pair of ragged men were rolling dice on a barrel, lazily guarding a handful of soldiers who sat in a line, bound and bruised from what had clearly been an attack they could not withstand. Tilly made eye contact with the nearest, a man named Nezza, who sometimes came to the kitchens when he had a free moment. Tilly slipped him the pastries that weren’t nice enough to serve the nobles, and in return, he went with her maids down to meet food deliveries for the kitchens.

His eyes went wide, but Tilly put a finger to her lips and eyed the two men, who hadn’t noticed her yet.

She wasn’t a fighter, but for Atteila, she would fight anyway.

Serving girls were never a threat. She didn’t walk like a soldier, or wear armor that would clank along as she walked. Skirts weren’t terribly convenient, but they were quiet.

The stove that warmed the stables was close to hand. The stove itself was cold, which was normal for summer, but there was always a small stack of firewood beside it. She took up a hefty branch, took to long steps out of hiding, and brought the branch down on the head of the nearest man. He dropped, unconscious in moments, and his friend staggered back, his eyes wide. He grabbed for his sword, but Tilly, armed and strong with terror, bashed him too. He tried to block, but bakers had strong arms, and he was off balance.

“Remind me never to annoy you, Miss Tilly,” Nezza said when she dropped her branch to untie him. “How did you get here? What are you doing here?”

“No time, are there more of them in the stables?” Tilly asked hurriedly and moved to the next soldier as soon as Nezza’s hands were free. He got to work on his feet and was soon raiding the two fallen men for their weapons. “How many came in the gates?”

“Close to fifty. A proper fighting force,” Nezza said grimly. He moved to the door and froze. “Get down; There’s someone in the bushes!”

“I know!” Tilly said and yanked him back inside before she hesitated. “You’re loyal, right? To His Majesty and the princess?”

Nezza narrowed his eyes at her but nodded slowly. Tilly waited another moment until the rest of the soldiers nodded too.

“Right,” she said, and whistled, three short notes that carried further than anyone expected. Perfect for catching the attention of a maid in a noisy kitchen. Or for calling two royals out of hiding. “I brought some friends from the kitchens.”

“Princess Atteila,” Nezza whispered, and knelt when Atteila and Hanver ducked into the stable. Atteila reached for Tilly’s hand and pulled her close when Tilly took it. “We feared you lost. How…?”

“We were in the kitchens when the attack came,” Atteila explained and pulled him to his feet with her free hand. Hanver joined the soldiers in getting everyone untied. “Tilly took us out through the scullery and into the gardens before we could be captured. Is there word of my father, the king?”

“None, your highness,” Nezza said, clearly uncomfortable but the highest-ranking soldier in the room. Two of his fellows dragged the men Tilly had knocked out into one of the stalls and tied them tightly. “We were taken before we could raise the alarm. Please accept our humblest apologies for our failure.”

“I would not expect any ten men to hold against fifty,” Atteila told him kindly, and squeezed Tilly’s hand. “We must retake the castle or escape, but I know nothing of war. Is the castle lost?”

“We outnumber the ragged lot a dozen to one if we can get to the barracks,” Hanver suggested, the only one of them who had actually been to war, and who had, despite his father’s opinion, a decent head for tactics. He shrugged one shoulder when Nezza looked at him questioningly. “The castle has a large number of soldiers assigned here on rotation. They must have been blocked into their barracks or they would have already taken the castle back. So where are the barracks?”

Her part done, Tilly wrapped her arms around Atteila and held on tight.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to be the one who faded into the background. Now, they might just have a chance to fight back.

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Pride of Place :

Strawberry Roses

Orange Bubbles (Subscriber Only!)

Wine Shower

In Hot Water (Subscriber Only!)

Under Orange Blossoms

A Little Bitter

Folding Puff

Cookie Cutter Friends

Out the Back

Rescuing Allies (New!)

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MASTERLIST

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buttercupspotify · 9 months

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im curious about what made you you. im curious about your taste in music. im curious about the way your mind thinks. im curious about how your body likes to be touched. im curious about your late night thoughts and how they make you feel. im curious about every single thing about you.

#words #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #quotes #dark academia #thoughts #literature #romantic #desi #spilled romance #desiblr #relationship #lovers #writeblr

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emotionalwords · 2 months

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#quotes #life quotes #love quotes #inspiring quotes #relationship quotes #poem #words #literature #lit #poetry #romance quotes #cute quotes #inspiration #motivation #spilled ink

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thepersonalquotes · 3 months

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#quotes #life quotes #love quotes #thepersonalquotes #inspiring quotes #relationship quotes #words #literature #lit #poetry #romance quotes #cute quotes #relatable quotes #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled poetry #writers #quoteoftheday

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poetryforall · 10 days

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-Rumi

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animentality · 1 year

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#twitter #monster fucking #writing #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #romance #inspo

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whatthehellami · 5 months

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Artwork is not mine.

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manincaffeine · 3 months

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when the teasing goes from cute and innocent to ‘oh that turned you on, didn’t it?’

#desiblr #desi tumblr #text post #dark romanticism #desi academia #dark academia #intimacy #writers on tumblr #romance novels #romanticism #teasing #spilled writing #artists on tumblr #desire #desi shit posting #light academia #love language

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the-inspiring-quotes · 30 days

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#quotes #life quotes #love quotes #inspiring quotes #relationship quotes #words #literature #lit #poetry #romance quotes #cute quotes #inspiration #motivation #spilled ink

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wordsfromwise · 5 months

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#quotes #life quotes #love quotes #thepersonalquotes #inspiring quotes #relationship quotes #words #literature #lit #poetry #romance quotes #cute quotes #relatable quotes #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled poetry #writers #quoteoftheday

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officialleehadan · 9 months

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Fallen Down the Stairs

Once Cursed

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Sorsha always did her best to stay away from Maeve, but there was only so much she could do when the former queen came looking for her. She couldn’t fight, of course. A serving girl didn’t dare strike a princess, even one who seemed to be in disgrace with her father. Sorsha used to be a princess herself, but now she was bound by the same rules that bound all the staff.

So she couldn’t fight, and even if she dared to, Maeve had more than enough magic to rip her apart on a whim. Maybe Prince Naevelon would chide her for it, but there wouldn’t be more than that. A serving girl was replaceable, and it wasn’t like he knew who she was. She couldn’t tell him, either. Maeve was in trouble for the way she conquered them, not for doing it at all, and Sorsha was the last heir of the throne.

In a way, Maeve’s continued amusement at her torment was all that was protecting Sorsha from a swift death. As long as she was fun to hurt, she was more valuable alive than dead.

All the same, when Maeve was looking for someone to hurt, it was safer for everyone if she found Sorsha. Better she be hurt than the kind people who had protected her as best they could. Sorsha would do whatever she had to do to keep them safe.

It was already a bad pain day for Sorsha, and she wasn’t fast on foot regardless, but Maeve liked the fun of chasing her. That too, was familiar, so Sorsha led her out into the gardens where nobody could hear her scream. She might not have much pride left, but she didn’t have to make anyone else see what happened to her when Maeve was feeling vindictive.

By the time Maeve got through with her, Sorsha was barely able to stand, and was seriously considering simply sleeping in the gardens. It was a warm evening, and it wouldn’t be the first time she slept off the worst of the pain under the watchful eye of the orchard trees. Sometimes one of the castle cats would find her and stay with her. There were worse ways to spend a bad night.

But no. If she didn’t make it back to the room she shared with Niala, her friend would worry.

Slowly, painfully, Sorsha began making her way back to the castle. Every muscle ached. Maeve was a master of causing as much as pain as possible while spending the least effort, but she also liked to see Sorsha wearing bruises. Before Dharin was dead, he would make a game of catching her the next day and prodding them, just to see Sorsha fight back tears.

If she could find out where he was buried, she might have to go spit on his grave some dark night.

“What in the world?”

The voice was the very last one Sorsha wanted to hear. If she could have run, she would have. As it was, she flinched hard enough to catch a nearby trellis with her shoulder. Pain flared through her and she nearly collapsed under it. Prince Naevelon was standing there, in the shadow of a sprawling apple tree. Sorsha fought her way upright, and then into a curtsy that was carefully practiced to look like the ones all the serving girls gave. He stared at her and she wished she was just a little bit more whole. A little more able to make excuses and escape.

The bruise darkening her cheek would be hard to explain.

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” she whispered through her raw throat, and blessed Niala for helping to dye her hair red a few days ago. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t recognize her. “I did not mean to disturb you. If you will excuse me, I will-“

“What happened?” he demanded, suddenly too close. Sorsha tried to flinch away again, but her aching body was having none of it. She swayed and managed to steady herself on the trellis before she fell. He caught her chin in a firm grip and turned her face to see the bruise on her cheek. “Who did this to you? I gave strict orders that the staff was not to be bothered.”

“I fell down the stairs,” Sorsha lied and prayed he wouldn’t hear it in her voice. She couldn’t tell him it was Maeve. He might yell at Maeve for defying his orders, but Maeve would happily kill her for revealing the truth. “Please excuse me, Your Highness. I’m not fit to be seen.”

“You’re covered in blood,” he noted furiously and released her chin with a hard light in his eyes. “Tell me the truth. Who harmed you?”

“I fell down the stairs,” Sorsha repeated desperately and wavered on her feet, supported only by the trellis under her hands. “It was dark, and the stairs in the back garden are slick. I shouldn’t have been back there this late but…” she scrambled for something he might believe. “Downstairs is hot this time of year. I just wanted some air, Your Highness.”

He looked her over, clearly disbelieving, and finally heaved a sigh. “It figures. I find the damned serving girl I’ve been looking for, and someone’s beaten her to a pulp. Come on, girl. If you won’t name names, you can at least accept some help getting back to the kitchens.”

It was a mercy that Sorsha hadn’t expected, but his hands were careful when he eased her away from the trellis and helped her walk slowly towards the kitchen door. Every step was agony. She was reasonably sure that she had a at least one broken rib, and maybe two. Maeve liked that. It made breathing harder than it already was. Still, the journey was much faster with help. Sorsha murmured a thankful blessing on the prince who was helping her, and heard him huff something like a disbelieving laugh in return.

“You’re going to lie if I ask your name, aren’t you?” he asked after a while, when they cleared the orchards and entered the kitchen gardens. “You won’t tell me who’s defying my orders. You won’t tell me your name. I expect by tomorrow, your hair won’t even be red anymore, will it?”

“Probably not,” Sorsha whispered and pulled him to a stop. “I’m- I’m sorry. I need a moment, Highness. You don’t- you don’t have to stay. I can make it.”

“I should carry you up to the royal wing and lock you in,” he muttered, but helped her sit and knelt in front of her to regard her closely. “But I’m reasonably sure you’d be gone before I could come back with a healer. Just for my own information, are you a ghost?”

“I don’t think so, Highness,” Sorsha told him wryly, but kept her eyes down, as was appropriate for a serving girl before a prince. “If so, it’s recent.”

“I’ll assume you’re not,” he decided and muttered something profoundly rude under his breath before he stood to pace. He didn’t strike her as a man who liked to be still for long. “Look at me, damn you. You saved my life against my sister’s pet killer. I owe you some protection, if nothing else.”

“You kept him from killing me in the same moment. There is no debt owed.” It was too formal for a serving girl. Sorsha cursed herself for a fool when he focused on her suddenly. She would have bolted if she could. It probably wouldn’t do any good. She was slow on her best day, and he was a warrior in fighting trim. “Please, Highness. I’m just a one of the maids. We all hated him.”

“Do you all know enough about swordplay to identify a weak guard, or an overextended back-swing?”

Sorsha didn’t answer, but they both knew that was an answer itself. Naevelon sighed and offered her his hands. After a moment’s hesitation, she took them and let him help her back to her feet.

“Come on,” he said, apparently resigned to her stubbornness, at least for now. “I’ll see you back to the safety of your own bed. Is the cook going to poison me if I tell him to give you light duty until you’re healed?”

“Master Tassaros would never ruin good food with poison,” Sorsha said with a small, painful laugh. “This isn’t the first time I’ve fallen down the stairs. Downstairs takes care of its own.”

“So I’ve learned. Now lean on me. The servant’s quarters aren’t far past the kitchen,” he said and steadied her as they made their way down the garden path to the warmly-lit kitchen door and the safety that waited within. “Do me a favor and don’t vanish again until my healer sees to you. It will be easier to dodge me if you aren’t purple from brow to chin.”

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Once Cursed

Dance of Blades

Into the Underbrush (Subscriber Only!)

Behind the Walls

Changing Names (Subscriber Only!)

Fallen Down the Stairs (New!)

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MASTERLIST

#Writing #writing prompt #story #novel #romance #love #spilled ink #spilled writing #spilled romance #spilled feelings #writeblr #lee hadan #LGBT #inspiration #long post

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evergreemoonbeam · 6 months