19 April 2024

“I don’t understand,” Elliott pouted. “You’re a pirate, aren't you? Why are you risking so much to help me set up this resistance?”

For a long time, Moira didn’t answer. Then she asked, “How many people do you think are willing to challenge the Pirate King face to face? To all but demand something from him when they do?”

Elliott blinked. “That sounds like suicide.”

“Right?” Moira turned to watch Charles, who was struggling to climb up the rigging after Arylwen. “And yet that boy did just that. In the King’s own throne room, even.” She chuckled. “Oh, he was polite about it. Said ‘please’ and everything. But even then, and even trembling with fear, he showed more spine than men three times his size.”

“That’s it?”

“What other reason would I need? It’s why I joined up with Jasper in the first place, after all.” She dipped her head in Charles’ direction. “Mark my words; that boy will be a king someday.”

Elliott’s stomach twisted, and it took effort to keep his face passive. “And me?”

Moira raised an eyebrow, then smirked at him. “We’ll make something of you yet, little princeling.”

17 April 2024

I was quite proud of this one. The mother and love stanzas need work still, I think, but overall I like how it turned out. Especially since every character listed, except (maybe) Elliott, is or becomes a dragon by the end of the series. For context, stanzas 1 and 2 are book 1; 3, 4, and 5 are book 2; and the last is book 3, which has a lot more focus on Arylwen and less on Charles, so that makes sense.

I actually started this by trying to see how few words I could use to “tell” the Majesty story. I wasn’t happy with that, and wound up here instead.

There stands a boy

Trembling in fear at the feet of the Pirate’s throne

Yet does not yield

And the Pirate hails him, King

There stands a boy

Looking into the face of an old, tired Mountain

And offers hope

And the Mountain hails him, King

There kneels a youth

His surrogate Mother fading fast

He, helpless, weeps

And the Mother hails him, King

There kneels a youth

A ring offered to the Love of his life

Promise ensured

And his Love hails him, King

There stands a man

Confronting she who has conquered the world

At last, triumph

And the Conqueror hails him, King

There stands a man

Betrayed by one who was once his dearest Friend

Together in death

Only then does the Friend hail him, King

24 July 2023

Well, this is the last thing I’ve actually written in Majesty at this point. Had ideas for some of the rest, but none of it’s actually been put down to paper yet. I just recognized with this scene that the flow of events was all wrong and felt stilted. I might throw everything together to identify the best point to split off and fix things; probably after the end of the naval battle. I was pretty proud of that scene, and I don’t think it’s affecting the problematic points.

Once the Pirate King had gone, the crew all turned to face the woman, anxious to see what she intended to do with them. She studied them all in turn, before she turned to Jakob and asked, “You there. You were the previous captain of this vessel?”

“Aye, ma’am.”

She held his gaze a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Jakob, ma’am. May I be so bold as to ask yours?”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. “I’ve collected more than a few names over the years, both on and off the sea. But you can call me Moira.”

Jakob dipped his head. “Captain Moira, then.”

Moira nodded, then folded her arms. “You’ll be my first mate. Assuming you’re willing. What were your plans prior to our little…delay here?”

[Line from Jakob about seeking refuge from Roland’s city?]

“Hm. while the ship’s being repaired, send some men in boats to check the wreckage of the other ship. Survivors, valuable, provisions. I don’t expect to find much if anything, but it never hurts to look. Once we’re ready to move, resume the same heading we were on before.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Jakob flashed her a salute and started bellowing orders. Charles didn’t understand half of it, but he tried to stay out of everyone’s way as he hurried after Moira.

5 June 2023

It’s been a long time since I wrote this. I’ve been struggling with Majesty a lot, actually; not really satisfied with the opening scenes I have (with a couple exceptions), and I’m not really sure where I’m going with it, either. In particular, I don’t think this is how Moira gets introduced, or how the Pirate King handles this situation. Might have to let it stew in my brain a while longer…

…eyeing various crew members.

Then a fairly tall woman from the pirate ship strode over. “Alright, Jasper, that’s enough of that.” She had dark brown, nearly black hair cut roughly to jaw length, and wore a vest over a sleeveless shirt. Her pants went down to mid-calf.

The King chuckled, then eyed the woman. “You hae something to say?”

An easy smile fell on the woman’s face, and she leaned back against the ship railing. “This is a pretty nice ship. Don’t you think?”

“Eh. The big ol’ hole in the side dampers that a bit.”

“True. A bit of a shame, that.” She pushed off and began pacing around. “Do you have any plans for it?”

Charles and Elliott could only watch the exchange slack-jawed. Who was this woman, and how could she banter so easily with the Pirate King of all people?

For his part, the King just scratched at his cheek. “Dunno yet. Doesn’t seem to be much worth keeping.” Then he paused, and looked right at Elliott. A feral grin broke out across his face. “Well, well. What have we here?”

Elliott pinched Charles, who’d been about to answer. Instead, Elliott said, “Alan, sir. ‘Prentice carpenter. And this is my friend, Charles.”

The King raised an eyebrow. “That so? Say, Alan. Don’t suppose you’ve heard the little rumor that your prince is still alive, have you?”

Elliott started… [9 May 2023]

…think of that?”

“You know, boy,” the woman added, before Elliott could answer. She wasn’t looking at them. “If you’re going to try to hide your identity, you ought to at least make it believable. Your accent’s all wrong for a lowborn apprentice, and even from here I can see your hands are too soft for carpentry work.”

Elliott’s face paled, and he looked up at the Pirate King. The King reached out to grab him, but Charles couldn’t just watch any longer… [9 May 2023]

…decided to remain very still.

“If you’re finished deciding what you want,” the woman cut in, “how would you feel about handing the ship over to me? Complete with crew and passengers.”

Everyone around inhaled sharply. Once again, who was this woman, that she could talk to the Pirate King as an equal? And what would she do once she got them?

The King just raised an eyebrow. “Hardly seems worth the effort. I was thinking I’d just scuttle it and be done with it.”

Cries of alarm came from many of the crew, including Jakob, but neither of them paid attention to any of that. The woman smiled. “Then it won’t matter if I take them, will it? Consider this repayment on that debt.”

The King scowled, but thought for a moment. “And after this, we’re clear?”

“One hundred percent.”

He glanced at Elliott. “I’m still taking the kid.”

The woman shrugged. “What use do I have for a prince?”

That elicited another round of protests, which got no more of a reaction than the last. The King grinned and extended a hand. “Shake on it.”

They did, and the King immediately ordered some of his crew to begin repairing the ship. He grabbed Elliott by the collar and dragged him off. The wyvern sitting on Charles waited until they were aboard the Fortune’s Blessing before it hopped off and scurried after its master.

20 April 2023

Well… there’s definitely issues here. The general vibe almost makes it feel like I’m pro-dictatorship and anti-democracy, which is not how I feel. So I’ll need to come up with another way to bring up Ferghus, and another way for Roland to start thinking how ill-prepared they are to defend themselves from the Conqueror and other, similar threats.

“And who would helm this coalition, then?” Roland demanded. “You? One of the other monarchs? Perhaps that princeling you dragged in out of the ocean? No, we will not leave ourselves vulnerable to some arrogant bastard declaring themselves our king or queen.”

“And what if you picked one of your own?” Moira leaned back against the table, arms folded. “Appointed them as your leader, even if only temporarily?”

Roland kept pacing. “And once we gave them that power, do you think they’d give it up? No! No, they would not.”

With a sigh, Moira pinched the bridge of her nose. “So you refuse the slightest risk of a monarch of any sort taking power.”

“We’ve managed without so far.”

“And what will your people do then, when a real dragon appears? When some foreign king or queen arrives in a storm of scale and claw and fang? When the Black Conqueror herself lands on your shores? Who will defend you? The living statue of a dragon holed up under the city?”

Living statue? What did Moira mean by that? Charles pulled away from the door and shot a questioning look at Arylwen. She shrugged; apparently she didn’t know what her mom meant, either. Charles grabbed her hand and said, “Let’s go find Bethany.”

Arylwen scrunched her nose. “Why her?”

“She’s from this city; he dad’s even on the Council, right? I bet she knows.”

Despite her scowl, Arylwen nodded. 

They found Bethany moping quietly in the grand library. [AN: I guess they rejected her earlier or something?] Arylwen sulked off to the side while Charles walked up to her. “Um. Hey, Bethany.”

Bethany jumped a bit, then hurriedly tried to wipe the tears from her face. “U-um, h-hi, Charles! What brings you here?”

Charles hemmed and hawed for a bit, and then finally asked, “Do you know anything about a living dragon statue under the city?”

Bethany blinked a few times. “Do you mean [Ferghus]?”

Both Charles and Arylwen cocked their heads.

“You know, Ferghus? The old king who set up the Council two hundred years ago? He’s not actually a statue, but he’s really, really old, and dowsn’t really move much any more.”

Arylwen’s eyes lit up. “How big is he?”

“Huge! I saw him once; he must have been as big as the whole palace!”

When he saw the smile that spread across Arylwen’s face, Charles’ stomach dropped. He’d seen that smile often enough to know it was never good news.

Sure enough, a moment later, Arylwen announced, “Let’s go see him! You can take us there, right?”

5 April 2023

I wrote this kind of late, and honestly I’m still not sure what to think of it. I was trying to lay the groundwork for Arylwen and Bethany to develop a friendship while they’re still kids, but I don’t think this approach is going to be the best. Moira will still intervene, but it will be more chastising Arylwen. I also don’t know that I fully agree with the logic here, and it definitely feels out of character for Moira, even if I’m having trouble pinning down why. Additionally, I don’t want to even imply that bullying is in anyway justified. It’s not. So yeah, this is getting scrapped. It does help me figure out some of what’s going on in Arylwen’s head, though. And I might just have to tone this sub-arc down, so she’s not actively mean or malicious to Bethany.

The little girl curled up tighter, wrinkling her dress. “I just… I want to be friends, too. Why is she so mean to me?”

Moira leaned forward, resting her arms on the balcony railing. She pondered the question for several moments. “You may not believe me, but you and Arylwen have a lot in common.”

Judging by the expression on Bethany’s face, she didn’t believe her. Moira had to chuckle at that. She said, “I’m guessing you didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, right? Spent most of your days around adults, all trying to teach you how to be a ‘proper’ lady?”

Bethany nodded. Moira continued, “It’s not so different for Arylwen. There’s not that many kids on pirate ships, and the small handful Arylwen did meet were all terrified of her, especially after hearing she’s a dragon.”

24 January 2023

Sorry about yesterday; I completely spaced it. I did get my writing in for the day, though, so I’ll be back on track after this.

This is a direct continuation of my interview with Moira in this post; I’d already figured out the last story was 90% BS, as I mentioned there, but I pulled a lot of good information this time. Though this early in the drafting process, any and all of it is subject to change. Also, this was the day when it felt like I finally snapped out of the funk I’d been in all month. Not really sure what did it, but I’m grateful. Still had ups and downs since then, of course, but it’s been much more manageable.

I start jotting notes, then I pause and glare at Moira. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

She shrugged and flashed me a cheeky grin. I groan and rub the bridge of my nose. “Is it at least something that did happen to you, pre-dragon or was it completely off the cuff?”

“Who know?” She pointedly avoids my gaze and swishes her drink.

With a frown, I shuffle through my notes for other things I wanted to ask her. “Ah right. What can you tell me about dragon culture? That vale you mentioned.”

The drink stills in her hand. Slowly, Moira turns to look at me, eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

Hm. That is an interesting response. I hesitate only a moment before a wicked smile forms on my face. “Oh, I was considering sending Arylwen there in book 3, sometime after she’s become queen. I want to know what she’d be getting herself into.”

Moria’s eyes flash, and the next thing I know I’m slammed up against the wall with her claws around my throat. Good thing I’m not actually physically present; that seems like it would have hurt.

“Don’t you dare,” Moira hissed, “send my girl into that pack of arrogant, self-serving pigs.”

The version of me she’s holding collapses to dust. She spins around to see me leaning against the table, utterly unconcerned. “That’s very interesting.” Moira growls at me, but I ignore that and ask, “Were they all like that? Arrogant and self-serving, I mean?”

“No, you also had the ancient relics, that might as well have turned to stone for all the good they do.”

I raise an eyebrow, and for quite a long time, neither of us say anything. Then Moira sighs. “There was one–maybe more than one, honestly, but it’s not like I stuck around long enough to find out. He was… kind. But he wasn’t the most powerful, or charismatic. I don’t think most of the world’s ever heard of the country he ruled.” She looks away; it feels like she’s looking at something specific, far in the distance. “I couldn’t stand the way they treated him.”

“So you left?” When Moira nodded, I asked, “Did he come with you?”

Her expression softened into sorrow. “That would have required more confidence than he had left, I think. And he was never the impulsive sort, anyway.”

There. There it is. That fits, to me. I think that’s who Arylwen’s father is. And may have been what attracted her to Jasper’s brazen arrogance, too.

I put my papers away and look Moira in the eye. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not sure yet whether or not Arylwen does visit. I don’t know enough about the plot of the 3rd book yet to know if it’ll make sense.” I grin. “And if she does, well. Let’s just say you raised her well.”

Moira raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“One of them makes the mistake of referring to her as Charles’ ‘pet dragon’. During the ensuing duel, she doesn’t even bother going dragon; it stirs up quite the hornet’s nest.”

For the first time since I brought up dragon culture, Moira laughs. “Oh, that’ll be fun to watch.” Then her face falls. “Still, I would greatly appreciate it if she didn’t have to go at all.”

I shrug. “We’ll see where the story takes us.”

Moira grimaces, but she nods. “Was there anything else?”

With a shake of my head, I say, “That’s it for now. I’ll swing by again if there’s anything else.”

“Cool.” She signals the bartender, who hands he a six pack. Beer, I think. Not sure how I feel about that. She waves as she saunters off down the beach. “Take care of yourself, old man.”

I frown, but before I can protest I’m still in my thirties–and anywhere from a couple decades to several centuries younger than she is–she walks off, out of sight.

12 January 2023

I have a thing I do, where I interview my characters. This isn't unique to me, by any stretch. But I tend to make the interview itself more of a narrative format; seeing how my characters react to me or to weird, non-canonical situations can tell me a lot about them. And I like to hear their impressions of other people, too.

That said, it turns out the last bit, about Arylwen's father, is complete BS. I don't know if it's something that did happen in a different part of Moira's life, pieces of several events, or completely off the cuff, but it's definitely not about Arylwen's dad.

I take a minute to center myself before I invite Moira over. Where are we? Somewhere suitable to her. After a moment, I open my eyes and see that I’m in an open-air beachfront cafe, though other than the man behind the counter there is no one around.

Not long after I decide I’m ready, Moira walks in, wearing a collared vest and black pants. I gesture to the seat across from me and she takes it, lounging comfortably, with her feet on the arm rest of another of the many empty chairs.

I lean back and study her for a moment. “So, Moira.” I cock my head. “Just Moira?”

“For now.” She flashes me an impish grin, then signals the bartender. He brings over a tall, orange drink with a fancy straw. I assume it’s alcoholic.

I review my notes. “Well, first off, what do you think of the boys? Where I’m at, they’re just joining your crew.”

“Ah, yes.” She smiles, a toothy thing that dimples her cheeks, and sets her drink on the table. “Charles is fascinating. There is a light to him, and an honesty, that is precious difficult to find in men.” She ponders for a moment, then adds, “Or women, for that matter.”

She grows more somber. “As for Elliott… There’s a darkness to him I didn’t recognize at first. I hope it doesn’t consume him.”

I carefully maintain a neutral expression, making her chuckle. “No spoilers on that one, eh?”

With a smile, I say, “Not yet, at least.” I kinda want to pursue the bit with Elliott, but that’s not the priority today. “So, why a pirate?”

“Hmm?”

“Well, you’re a dragon. You could have gone anywhere, done anything. Singer, artist, baker. So why did you choose to become a pirate?”

“Call it a whim.” Her eyes got a far off look, and she chuckled to herself. “I happened to run into Jasper one day, and he intrigued me.”

I nodded and made a note, then paused. “How did that happen, exactly? Did he attack the ship you were on?”

“Got it in one.” She took another swig of her drink. “He wasn’t a captain yet, just a lowly deckhand. I was on my way to some place new, when his crew attacked. Long story short, most everyone else on either of our crews wound up dead. Even once he learned I was a dragon, even once I had him pinned to the deck with my claws at his throat, he still smiled fearlessly. He even had the audacity to invite me to his crew.” She shrugged. “I figured, why not?”

I give Moira a sidelong glance. “You like collecting interesting people, don’t you?”

She just grinned. I asked, “Was this before Arylwen was born? Did you know you were pregnant?”

Moira shrugged. “I knew, but it wasn’t showing yet. She’s spent just about her whole  life on those boats.”

I hesitate for a bit. “If I may ask, who was–is–her father? What’s the story there?”

“Ah, that.” Moira’s smile turned sad, and she pulled her feet off the other chair. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“If anyone my side of the screen should, it’s me.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees.

“Well, he was human.” She chuckled. “A surprise, right? I know you wondered if any of the bastards back in the vale were nice enough to catch my ey, but…” She shrugged. “I met him not long after I’d left. I was in a bit of a tight spot, and he offered to help. We slowly got to know each other, and fell in love.”

Moira’s eyes were distant, now. I doubted she even remembered my presence. She continued, “He was always the odd one in his family, which was one of the lesser noble ones in the area. Rather than a warrior, he was a scholar, and loved to research what he could about plants and animals and the like.”

Her face fell. “They came the eve of our wedding. They hadn’t known my true identity, and I was able to fight them off… but I missed a sniper outside, and failed to catch the arrow in time.” Her eyes blazed, and her voice grew cold. “They’d dressed to make it look like a rival family had attacked us, but I knew the scent, the faces of the assassins. His own family believed he’d dishonored them when he chose to be a scholar, and again when he married me. So they decided to remove him from the line of succession.” Her smile grew feral, and she concluded, “Now there aren’t any of them left. Unless you count Arylwen… and I don’t. She’s mine. Not theirs.”

2 January 2023

Elliott’s still more hung up on royal pride than I think he should be. His shock at the difference between her demeanor and her implied heritage should still be there, but I think he’d express it differently in a less class-ist way.

Also, Arylwen is one of my favorite characters, at least as far as I’ve gotten to know her so far. She’s got this spunk to her, and absolutely will not take crap from anyone. It’s going to be fun, especially in the later two books.

A moment later, a figure with large, black bat-like wings glided down from the crow’s nest. When she landed, Charles and Elliott were shocked to see a girl their age, and even more when the wings folded into her back and disappeared. “What’s up, Mom?”

Captain Moira gestured to the two boys. “I’ve got a couple new cabin boys to work with you, straight from Jasper. Show them the ropes, would you?” She turned to the boys. “This is my daughter, Arylwen. I’ll be having her take care of you two, alright?”

Elliott still stood with his  mouth open, staring at Arylwen. Charles wasn’t much better, but he managed to pull himself together enough to offer a handshake. “Um, nice to meet you. My name’s Charles.”

Arylwen shook it halfheartedly, and she narrowed her eyes as she looked at the two of them. “Eh… Really, Mom?”

“Don’t judge the just by their looks; I’ve taught you that already. This one here used to be a prince.” She jabbed a thumb at Elliott, who had yet to regain his composure, then waved a hand at Charles. “And that one went down and talked with Jasper unannounced.”

Arylwen’s eyes grew wide, and she stared at Charles. “And you’re still alive?”

Charles nodded. “He’s, um, he’s really scary, but he think he m-might be kind of nie, too, in a way.” He bit his lip, then asked, “W-were those wings real? Are you really a dragon?”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

At that, Elliott finally reacted. “But, that means you’re some sort of royalty! And yet, you’re dressed like [that], without any of the dignity a royal should have!”

Arylwen shrugged. “I don’t care about any of that crap. If you want details, ask my mom.”

31 December 2022 part 2

And with this, we are finally caught up; exactly one week behind my actual writing. That felt good.

More shenanigans with Charles and Elliott. I think I made Elliott too arrogant for this section; I don’t have a solid enough grasp on his character and how it shifts over the trilogy. His side of the story is, unfortunately, something of a tragedy, in contrast to Charles’ more heroic arc. I’d like to foreshadow that, of course, but I still need Elliott to be relatable, and a respected member of the team before all that goes down, which is hard to nail down.

The ship name—the Dragon’s Flight—is more than just a pun. It’s also not set in stone, so if I come up with something better I’ll use that instead.

Jasper raised an eyebrow and sat back. “Why?”

Charles blinked. He hadn’t expected that. “Um, well, he’s my friend. And he’s a prince, even if he doesn’t have a country right now, and, and–”

One of the wyverns hopped down and sniffed at Charles, who squeaked and stepped back. Jasper asked him, “Are you scared, little man?”

This was it. He was dead. Charles gulped and nodded, but rather than give up words started pouring out of his mouth. “I-I know you hate cowards, and you’re probably going to kill me ‘cause I’m so scared, b-but at least promise you’ll set Elliott free! He hasn’t even had a chance to try to take [our country] back yet, and he’s amazing, not like me, so if he had help–”

Jasper gave a signal, and another wyvern shrieked and snapped at Charles, silencing him. With a languid air, Jasper rose to his feet and began to circle around the boy, eying him up and down. Once he was back in front of Charles, he squatted down on his haunches and looked the boy in the eyes. “Let me get this straight. You’re freaking terrified of me, and you’re dead certain I’m gonna kill you. And even then, you came down here on the off chance you might be able to get me to let your friend go. That right?”

Charles nodded. Jasper tilted his head, almost ninety degrees, and narrowed his eyes. “This wasn’t some order from that princeling, was it?”

With a shake of his head, Charles replied, “Elliott told me I was b-being stupid actually. But, if you’re just going to sell him back to [the Conqueror], I had to try something. I think she’d do worse things to him than just kill him.”

Only the sound of the wyverns shuffling about could be heard. Charles began to sweat bullets, but he held very still, and even tried to hold his breath.

Then Jasper started laughing, and Charles about fell over. The pirate king clapped Charles on the back, hard enough it stung, and said, “I like you, kid. You’ve got guts. Alright, I’ll give you lot a chance. We’ll see if this princeling measures up.”

For a moment, Charles couldn’t believe his ears. It worked? He’d done it? By the time it sank in, Jasper had already pushed him above deck. Then all the tension drained out of Charles’ body, and he fainted to the floor of the deck, with a smile on his face.

The next day, Charles and Elliott were reunited. Elliott rubbed his wrists where his manacles had chafed, his displeasure clearly evident on his face. He looked at Charles in wonder. “What the heck did you say to him?”

Charles shrugged. “I don’t really get it, either.”

The ship they were on pulled up alongside another, smaller vessel. Probably another one of the ships in Jasper’s pirate armada. The crew pulled out planks to lay between them, and they herded Charles and Elliott across.

Elliott looked around, and with what little dignity he could muster he demanded, “Where’s the captain?”

“That’d be me.” A tall woman strode toward them wearing a loose, patched-up tunic, and a pair of breeches with one leg torn off at the knee. She had dark brown hair that fell around her shoulders in waves, and piercing green eyes that seemed to peer into the depths of Charles’ soul. He shivered, but he tried to match her gaze as long as he could.

Elliott opened his mouth to say something, but the woman held up a finger. She studied him next, then pointed at Charles. “You’re the one Jasper was telling me about? The one that impressed him?”

Charles shrugged. “I, I think so. I talked to him yesterday, at least.” 

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Well. Looks can be deceiving, then.” She turned to Elliott. “As for you… The princeling, right? You’re just as he described, so far.”

Elliott’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he frowned. “And what does that mean?”

The woman ignored him, and instead looked over them one more time and sighed. “I’ve really got my work cut out for me this time.” Before either of them could respond, she pointed her thumb at herself and said, “I’m Moira. You can call me ‘Captain’ or ‘Ma’am’. From now on, you’re not princes or servants or any of that. You are deckhands aboard the Dragon’s Flight, and that means you answer to me. Is that clear?”

Charles saluted and said, “Yes, Ma’am!”, but Elliott just glowered. “I’m not some lowly deckhand; I am a prince, and–”

“You were a prince, you mean,” Moira cut in. “You have no country, no authority, and no reason for me to respect you. If you want to change that–any of it–you start by doing what I say. Am I clear?”

“But–”

“Am I clear?”

Elliott shut his mouth, and his face turned pink. He bowed his head. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. You actually can learn; that’s a good sign.” She looked up into the rigging and whistled.