So once more Peter Dawes is to blame for a blog post. One might wonder if I have a mild infatuation going on here, but shhhh Peter might get a big head if he heard. *insert a wink and a laugh here*
But today the reason is orphaned stories, you can read Peter’s blog post here. I have a million and one orphaned stories. I started writing at age 14 and most stories between now and then have remained unfinished and are what can be called orphans. I am attempting to fix that, well with the ones that are worth it, and I think perhaps the ones sitting there with 40,000 words on them are owed some measure of love and attention at some point, heck even the ones that are only 1,000 words deserve it. Now there is one orphaned story that I keep going back to often because well I just fell in love with it when I wrote it. It’s probably something that would fall into the category of a supernatural romance given how it started but I really don’t know since I never got further than the initial writing and then emailing it to a few of my writing partners to get feedback, before it just sat there in the writing folder on my harddrive to be opened and read occasionally and nothing more done to it. The title on it is Averly for the main character and because clearly nothing else moved me to name it something more interesting. Part of me wonders if it shouldn’t be rewritten and placed into the Children of the Immortals tales. I know a certain fae bard and her sister who were kidnapped as young women and it could tie in with a little rewrite here and there, or I could just continue with the story as is and see where things take me. But enough what if thoughts. I give to you Averly, an orphaned story that may or may not need to find a home.
Averly closed the door and leant against it. Her breath hissed out her nose, a violent sound in the silent and dark room. She made no move to turn the lights on. She wanted it dark and she wanted it quiet. She wanted nothing of the world in here with her. It was too damn much having her in here. Fuck. She’d said that word a lot tonight, her mind was filled with two things; I still love you and Fuck. Both statements were on infinite loop playing in her mind. She was fucked completely. What was she meant to do with that information? They were bad together but so fucking good at the same time. God when he touched her, when that husky voice of his filled her ears. God. The boy was sex on a stick to her and she couldn’t ever get enough of that. And it wasn’t that they didn’t love each other. They did. But none of it was enough to overcome everything else. She had to marry who she was told to marry and he was a warrior and not just any warrior he was a Guardian, a warrior for the Lord and Lady. He protected the people, their existence; they very rarely were given approval by their divine masters to wed.
Averly closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry again. She was stronger than that. Like hell she was. She’d been crying a lot lately and she hated herself for it. They had both agreed it was for the best and then those damn Tremans had attacked her home. The Guardians had come to protect her family, they had protected them, they had killed every one of those sons of bitches. Her father and brothers were a little worse for wear but no lasting harm had been done. Well not to them. As the only female of status there she had been the first to be evacuated here to their safe house in the country. She could have taken herself here easy enough but protocol dictated someone come with her, Davyn had been injured and was the obvious choice for guard detail and so she had ended up with him, alone here. They’d stayed on opposite sides of the room, the tension between them so thick she could have carved her name with her nail across it. They were still bound together and it was all Averly could do to remain in place her palms fixed against the wall behind her back. Not that the positioning of her body was helping matters, all she could see in her mind was Davyn over her pressing her back against the wall, her hands pinned behind her his body pressed against her, his mouth devouring hers as he set her body on fire. The strangled look in his eyes led her to believe similar things were playing across his mind. And then in their fractured conversation. I still love you. And fucked if it hadn’t been said on both sides followed by the mother of all awkward silences. Well what were they meant to say at that point? They’d both agreed to end it. Most days she had no fucking clue why but it was done and if their track record was anything to go by it was the best for both of them. Only was it? Yeah, maybe another time, another life, another society dictating the ways of the world, yeah maybe they could have had a true love story. But neither of them was willing to change what needed to change to be together. But fuck. Didn’t mean she didn’t wish it was otherwise. Didn’t change what he meant to her or how much she fucking wanted him. And fuck, he still loved her.
And to make things even more awkward, he’d been assigned to her as her personal protection. Right now he was in the room next to hers. A daughter of a council member was a big thing, god forbid she was taken by the Tremans. But that is who they were after. It had happened before and would again. Her blood was strong and pure and not to mention her talents. The Treman wanted to bring that strength into their young. Their females couldn’t produce so they had to look elsewhere. And their customs were very specific about who they could breed with. One like Averly would be taken and breed with as many for as long as life sustained her body and the Tremans had many magics of their own for making sure that she lived long under their careful and terrible care. It wasn’t the future Averly wanted for herself and no one else did either. So she was stuck with her Guardian again, same one she’d had before, same one she’d fallen head over heels in fucking love with. The Lord and Lady had a hell of a sense of humour on them at times. Averly considered taking to her knees and having out with them but they so rarely saw fit to reply. Besides she still owed them big time for that night. The night Davyn had first whispered those words, honesty as he lay bleeding out in her arms. She’d prayed so hard that night, promised half the world, and possibly her first born, if they’d just save him. Lord and Lady had been kind and he’d stayed with her and that was the night that everything got complicated between them. Gone were the hidden looks and flirting, the carefree smiles and instead they got heavy complications both knowing that this was pretty much forbidden let alone doomed. But the heart wants what it wants and hers had wanted him and he had reciprocated in kind. And here they were right back to complicated awkwardness. But sitting in that dark quiet room there was a light inside her heart that was jumping around like a flickering flame that he was back so close to her. She’d take awkward weirdness any day over the constant wondering of what he was doing, where he was, was he fighting, was he bleeding out on a cold marble floor somewhere without her there to beg for his life in exchange for hers.
Averly shot into the air at the sound of something breaking. A window maybe? Something shattering down onto the floor in the room next door. Her first thought was that Davyn was in trouble. It didn’t really register on any level that he was the warrior not her and if he couldn’t look after himself she couldn’t really do a lot for him. She thundered into his room expecting to find him overrun with Tremans but he was alone in the room the remains of a very large vase embedded in the wall and across the floor. Davyn’s dagger was in his hand at her entry and with a sheepish look he put it down again and stepped in front of the wreckage as if he could hide it from her. Averly’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him standing there in naught but his pants. She finally let the breath out in a strangled noise and turned and fled from the room.