“Post the first line of your last 10 published fics.”
@seekthemist tagged me in a game.
I only did one per series...and there are no warnings here so read the tags on AO3 please...
When Laurent was almost fifteen years old, her uncle was arrested for embezzlement. Laurent had something to do with that, though she sat in the corner with wide eyes as his home office was raided by the FBI.
Nikandros didn’t remember when he had first learned of the tradition of the sacrifice.
They were married on the battlefield.
“When you were young,” said Damen, “we lived near here. South a few miles, back closer to the construction. And we were planning a new capital in the center of both Vere and Akielos, to combine the administrative functions of both kingdoms into a single location.”
Damen imagined what would happen when Laurent returned to the section of the fort reserved for the Veretians.
The first days left no time for thinking. Laurent had been a font of orders. Bring a pallet. Fetch a physician. Not that physician, the Veretian physician. Laurent directed the physicians in the same commanding tone, then turned back to Nikandros. Laurent had a list of seven steps to secure the city, four preparations for regional resistance and a reminder to send a messenger to Karthas about the battle. Kastor’s body should be placed under guard. Laurent’s orders were logical and thorough and commanding, and Nikandros found himself following them despite himself, even kneeling in front of Laurent to take the position as Kyros of Ios.
It wasn’t polite to correct the King.
Nikandros had been watching Laurent since the news came the day before. He had been watching the messenger, and then once the words had registered, he turned from the messenger to Laurent to see Laurent’s reaction. Part of Nikandros had thought, for an instant, that this would be some kind of plot between the two of them. Some sort of scheme that they’d arranged, sneaking off with some cloth wagons or something, and that Laurent would now reveal the second phase of whatever the scheme was.
Any hope of that was extinguished when he saw Laurent’s face. Laurent did not have the expression of a man revealing a trick. His expression was grief-struck and trying to control it, and he said, his voice steady, “We will raze them to the ground,” and then he walked out.
Laurent couldn’t read the words in the cave, but he’d read the translated book in the library about what they were supposed to say, and so he thought, deliberately, “I want to be king,” and then again “I want to be king,” and then he just thought “King, king, king,” as the space greyed out around him.
The clan leader gave a sharp order and Laurent was restrained by two of the others. They held him, one on each side, with their grips on his arms. His arms were still tied behind his back, as Damen’s were. Laurent did not test their grip or duck or squirm. He stood, tolerating their touch, and waited.