April 2018 - Weekly Prompt 1 (15MinuteFiclets)

[kalloway]

You may interpret this prompt however you'd like - pluralize it, change its form, use a secondary definition, etc. You may create for any fandom or original work.

Please post or link your finished work in the comments so as not to spoil anyone who hasn't seen the prompt yet! (And the AO3 Collection Is Here! if you want to post there.)


This week's prompt:
FIRST



(Remember, amnesty is permanent.)

Comments

[lexicalcrow]

I wrote a couple of things. They're not really finished fics, though, but they are interesting beginnings for things. I don't really edit the things I write for timed challenges like this, I feel it defeats the purpose of the challenge. But I still like to share them anyway.

One original piece, one fannish rpf piece.

[kalloway]

Got you added to the masterlist!

[littlecelticprincess]

I haven't written this much in fifteen minutes in like, ever lol

(Kyuranger of course, set in my fanfic verse)

[kalloway]

Yaaay! Added to the masterpost!

Chosen (Genealogy of the Holy War)

[taichara]

Well this was not at all what he'd expected.

Nonplussed, Travant eased back a single step from the hearth; not from fear of simple flames, oh no, but out of wary acknowledgement of the tickle of eldrich cold that danced across his nerves like frozen fire the moment he'd reached towards his prize.

Over the hearthstone, on great bronze hooks like clutching talons, Gae Bolg hung.

He claimed -- and he did not lie -- to his children -- yes, to both -- that when the time came, that blood-stained lance would go to its proper bearer even as Gungnir would leave his own hands in time.

And Travant intended to keep his word.

Altena was as wily and stubborn as any born to true Thracian stock, quick-witted and iron-sinewed. Already she was well on her way to taming her chosen drake to saddle and bit -- he'd not have a whelp in his household who could not ride -- and in all ways she was his daughter as much as Arion was his son.

But the damned thing knew.

He cast a baleful glance at the glistening weapon still marked with its last bearer's heartblood.

It knew that he was in no way its master; he never claimed to be. Gungnir was his birthright and he would accept no lesser weapon.

And yet, there was this unease, and -- all unbidden -- Travant felt certain, dead certain, that with every passing year that heart-clutching cold would sparked ever greater, ever watchful. Watching, waiting, when that lone day in the year marched by and Travant renewed his oaths, his plans, once again.

Gae Bolg knew.

Or perhaps something, someone else did.

But it hardly mattered; Travant would not allow it to matter.

Let the dead threaten him.

The time would come regardless, and Altena would fly for Thracia's banner. Not even a harrowed weapon could deny its master --

I won you in blood, and you'll spill more of it yet --

And she'll never know.

Do you hear?

Re: Chosen (Genealogy of the Holy War)

[kalloway]

\o/ (And added you to the master list!)