the deep moans round with many voices

This year, the Three Sentence Ficathon has its own dedicated Dreamwidth community: threesentenceficathon.

Here is the information post.

Here is the first ficathon post (now closed for new prompts, but still open for fills!), and here is the second ficathon post. The ficathon will remain open for new prompts through February 12.

Here are my fifth set of fills:

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( 25. ) For woodmr, in response to the prompt: King Lear, any, sacrifice, written 1/24/23.

To the Slaughter (125 words)

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When Lear summons his daughters to prove their love, Cordelia realizes his plan to retire will never work -- the gods decree that a king is king until he dies, but a king who shirks his duty while still demanding his people's honor and indulgence is no longer fit to rule. The old must make way for the new, winter stubble plowed under to feed the spring's new growth, and so her father must die to make way for a newer, stronger, more clear-sighted king.

"I love you too much to let you be remembered as the king who drove Britain to ruin," she tells her father when he calls her name, and weeps as she slits his throat to let his blood anoint the throne.

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( 26. ) For chanter1944, in response to the prompt: Any, any, "Wait, maiden, mother, or crone? Do you know how insulting that is?", written 1/25/23

Applied Theology (To Mete and Dole Unequal Laws) (160 words)

This is part of a Narnia/BtVS crossover series that I poke at occasionally.

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"It's not entirely unreasonable to divide the image of the divine into various phases of life -- youth, adulthood, old age," Susan said without looking up from her translation of Hesiod, "but the systematic application of that pattern to only the female half of the world is a wasteful narrowing of thought that tends to downplay the power and varied aspects of goddesses and restrict the personhood of women. Why don't reputable scholars group male deities into triads, and why doesn't English have an obvious parallel verbal construction to speak of young men, fathers, and men in their old age?"

"I agree completely," Peter said with great patience, "but the vampire cultists attempting to summon a demonic horde in the middle of London have based their ritual on the notion of a lunar Triple Goddess, and I would greatly appreciate if you would help me figure out which deities they've decided to slot into which roles, so we can stop them."

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( 27. ) For nasimwrites, in response to the prompt: Narnia, Ram the Great, diplomatic relations with Calormen, written 1/28/23.

The Long Game (200 words)

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"I don't care how many slaves they steal or how much money raids could bring into the Treasury," Ram explained to the Council or Armouth for what felt like the thousandth time; "Archenland does not allow piracy, let alone sponsor it. In the long term, we shall drain far more of Calormen's wealth into our own hands through trade than at the point of a sword, if that trade happens on our own ships, but if half of our captains dabble in piracy, the Tisroc (who is no fool) will soon ban our ships from all his ports and possibly declare war as well, which is the last turn we can afford."

As the Lord Mayor drew breath for yet another objection, Ram added, sharply, "My task as king is to safeguard the wellbeing of all Archenland, not merely the merchants of Armouth, and to ensure that we leave our children and grandchildren a safer, kinder future than we inherited from our ancestors; your plans would sow disaster and your children would inherit only death as their birthright, and I will not let you drag my country to ruin in search of fleeting profits and the mirage of costless revenge."

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( 28. ) For topaz_eyes, in response to the prompt: Any, any, I need to break out and make a new name (Brand New Day, Ryan Star), written 1/28/23.

Re-creation (250 words)

Fandom = Greenwing & Dart (Victoria Goddard)

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It's true that I had financial considerations for attending Morrowlea rather than one of its rival universities -- while my stepfather could easily (and would gladly) have paid tuition, asking him would have felt both hideously awkward and somehow like betraying my own father, whereas Morrowlea admitted a handful of students each year on scholarship based on our results in the lower schools and examinations -- but my main reason, which I spoke of to nobody but am certain that both Perry and Roald surmised, was that Morrowlea forbade the use or sharing of family names and as such I would finally be able to learn who I was without my family's history sharing my every step.

(This also felt somehow like betraying my father, but less so -- after all, he had been the first in our family to join the imperial army for several generations, and there he had risen by his own merits; surely he wouldn't grudge me the same impulse.)

And so when I left Ragnor Bella, it was with the intention not to return until I had built a new life in a new place, where the name Jemis Greenwing could mean whatever I chose and I could shake off the pains of my past like a snake discards its skin... but just as a snake remains a snake however many scales it sheds, so too the past is always with us, for both ill and for good.

Our only true choice is how we wield that weight.

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( 29. ) For topaz_eyes, in response to the prompt: Any, any, he left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again (Rocky Mountain High, John Denver), written 1/28/23.

The Journey of a Thousand Miles (750 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia. Also this one got completely away from me -- structural restrictions, what structural restrictions? ;)

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"When they let everyone come back to London and then it's time for fall term, what if I go off to school and I can't hold on to what I learned in Narnia and I get all twisted and miserable again?" Edmund said one sunny afternoon as he and Peter stood by Professor Kirke's trout stream and cast desultory lines into the bright, swift water.

( cut for length )

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( 30. ) For snacky, in response to the prompt: Narnia, The Lady of the Green Kirtle, Bitter Green they called her / walking in the sun, written 2/3/23

Waiting for Someone To Take Her Hand (205 words)

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"Why do you linger in this meadow, my lady?" Rillian asked, one hand on the hilt of his sword as he kept watch for the serpent. "Though the grass is soft and sweet in summer, autumn draws near with its dusty chill, and fell beasts have grown bold enough to venture into Narnia's very heart."

"My love journeyed this way in spring, but never came home to me," the lady answered in her honey-sweet voice, the tips of her grass-green sleeves kissing the face of the stream as she bent sideways to comb her shining hair, "and so I have followed his steps to wait in the last place he was seen until he returns or is found dead."

"Then we share a grief and a cause," Rilian said, and, kneeling, he laid his sword across his upturned palms as he met her eyes and swore a heartfelt oath: "If you will have me as your knight, I would guard you and keep you company in your quest until the serpent that took my mother and your love has been utterly destroyed."

Slowly, tremulously, the lady extended her hand to receive his honor and his sword. Her smile was like the rising of the sun.

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More to follow!