Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Excerpt: Frederick's Return

"Don't worry about me." Her eyes are still. Edmund leans closer.

"That's impossible." He doesn't look at her, kissing her on the cheek before he swiftly strides away, not looking behind him to meet her concerned gaze. "I'll be back before dinner. Father's coming home."

Andria watches him stride away, as Isabella secures her trench coat and exits the war room, keeping an invisible eye on the saddened princess during her entire leave.




The past two days, though boring, have been rather apprehensive, what with the Guardian status predicament lingering on Princess Andria's shoulders, as well as the fact that her birthday is coming up and she refuses to let her maids schedule for her a party. She thinks, from last year's experience, that they are going to try to plan a nice breakfast for her when the day comes. Thankfully, Oliver didn't offer to throw her a ball this year, either because of the distance between them, which has grown immensely since Ben's prior capture, or because they simply don't have the time or the effort to put together a ball during all of these attacks on the Kingdom.

The Realm is suffering through attacks as well, but they aren't nearly as bad. The Heart's apparent enchantments around the island are keeping them safe from serious harm. However, whenever Oliver speaks about them, he talks about it as if it's a joke, like he believes the charms will someday collapse and he doesn't believe in their power or their endurance.

The attacks on the Vita Kingdom have worsened lately, and Andria hadn't noticed until Edmund began talking more frequently about his home kingdom, especially once his father (who has recently been residing in an extra room of the Palace with his son for better protection) decided to be a man, take full responsibility of all that has happened, and fled back home with his crown and his armor to try to put an end to his People's suffering, up close, rather than from afar. Edmund wished that he could do the same, at first, but his father wanted him to stay in the Golden Realm with Andria.

Andria is descending down the main staircase and into the main hall when she sees Edmund again, standing in the center of the room, waiting on a servant or soldier to tell him that his father has returned, and waiting for his princess to accompany him outside where the reunions will occur.

"Is he back yet?" The princess stops in her tracks a foot before Edmund. He shakes his head.

"Not yet."

"When was he scheduled to come back?"

The Vitaec prince glances to the large clock hanging like a chandelier above the staircase. "Within the next five minutes."

At that moment, Ronald burst in through the front doors of the Palace, two soldiers immediately coming to his aid to prop them open. The messenger bows to the couple, who nod at him politely before he informs them, "The king is here, your majesties," with a retiring grin. At another nod, he leads the pair outside, down the stout marble staircase. Princess Andria takes notice of the bitterness of the cold, keeping her arms close to her core to keep herself warm, and the broad smile developing upon Prince Edmund's face.

Lockets, a Prologue

Today, the princess’s and Guardian’s lockets are on display in the front hall of the Vitaec Castle, held in two separate glass cases which sit one beside the other in royal gloom. The entire Kingdom assumed the lockets would be passed on to that of their separate relatives, the Guardians and the Royal family which they protect; but many thought their connection, now only present in the simple breeze, would break if two others wore the lockets. Therefore, they decided to hold them in the Castle.

My Royal friend allowed me to visit today and examine the lockets. They are just as Andria describes them in her writings: Xavier’s a silver oval, bearing carvings of vines intricately intertwining with one another; and Andria’s a circular token of gold, a large rose engraved on its front, shining excellently beneath the chandeliers of the main hall.

They appear rather heavy and thick, resting on two cushions of emerald.

Excerpt: Walk with Edmund

The sun brightens Edmund's already-shining irises. He eyes the hedges on either side of him, strolling beside Andria through the south end of the garden, the soles of his shoes keeping a steady tempo upon the concrete.

"Twenty," he says. "A teenager no longer." Andria catches up to his stride, admiring the petunias growing in the hedge.

"Unfortunately."

"Does it feel any different?"

"A bit."

The Prince stops at the angel fountain, watching his wavering reflection in the marble basin's clear pool of water with crossed arms. Andria examines the landscape, unsure of what to say - uncertain of why Edmund wished to speak with her out here in the first place.

Yet he suddenly speaks: "Your father wishes for me to move in tomorrow."

The Princess hesitates. "Oh." She swallows, eyes moving to the pavement, her hands immediately gripping one another before her. "Does he?" She gazes back to him; he is already doing the same.

"Aye," he murmurs. His gaze meets hers. "You... are you certain you wish to do this?" he asks her. Andë blinks.

"You are asking me?"

"Did you not expect me to?" He squints at her with concern. She doesn't answer. With a sigh, he steps towards her. "I would not want you to feel uncomfortable." The Princess doesn't look at him. "You have a choice in the matter this time--"

"Edmund, I have never had a choice in the matter and I still have none." She heaves a sigh herself, the Prince still watching her warily. "



"Edmund, I don't feel uncomfortable around you anymore." What she says is mostly true; over the past year, having had nothing to do, being kept in her room, and with her Guardian away in a new battle in the Territories every other week, Andria and Edmund have spent all of their free time together, whether they meant for this to happen or not. Andria simply found nothing else interesting to do on the island, and Edmund would desire to speak to her whenever he could anyway before he would have to leave for another war meeting or for another Territory.

Still, the prince is unsure and watches her warily. "You're sure?"

Andria nods. "There wouldn't be anything you could do about it anyway." She pauses. "Dad would wonder why you hadn't moved in yet."

Without warning, Edmund lets go of Andë's hand to move it to her chin, gently pushing her face upwards so that her gaze met his, those intense eyes of green, lighter than those of the princess's Guardian - but still, she realizes now, rather similar. He leans forward, guiding his other hand to her waist and touching his lips to hers. She instinctively wraps her arms around him, as she has forced herself to do in the past, and kisses him back. They both automatically assume it has been decided: Edmund Vita will move in by tomorrow evening. They speak no more about it, keeping their various thoughts to themselves, deciding to wait until tomorrow to see what will happen.

When they break their embrace, and Edmund holds Andria's face with two caring hands, Andria nearly believes she sees Xavier's eyes before her; when she realizes they belong to a prince instead of a Guardian, her heart sinks, just as it has done so many times within the past eight months of Xavier Weston's absence.

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