#arna

New Emily Wilde fic:

King for a Day

I am so excited to share "King for a Day" with you all! This is Wendell's memoir re: the day he ascended to the throne of Where the Trees Have Eyes (and his exile later that day, of course).

But there's more! Today is the Faerie Fools Exchange event on the Emily Wilde Discord (s secret Santa exchange). My illustrious Faerie Fool @aranov requested some irresponsible party boy teenage Wendell (Liath). So Wendell and his silly friends will be getting up to plenty of mischief before it all comes crashing down.

This will be my longest fic so far, at least 10 chapters! The first two chapters are up now. Get ready to meet Wendell’s family (including little Deilah) and all his silly OC friends!

Read it here on AO3

________________________

My stepmother was in a strange mood; she had been all day. She reached up and gently touched my hair. Her expression was positively maternal.

“Promise me you won’t grow up too fast?”

I laughed. “Don’t worry.”

I hadn’t been fair to her, I decided in that moment. In the past few months she had been kinder to all of us, or at least more patient. Of Father’s moods, especially. And her forbearance with the twins this morning was almost revolutionary. Awkwardly, I put my arms around her delicate shoulders. She was tense too; we’d never been particularly affectionate with each other.

Notes: I've named Wendell's siblings (in age order): Rian, Caragh, Orrin and Odrin (twins), Myrna. This is the last scene Wendell has with his father and Arna before things come crashing down. In this scene, Wendell's father is super angry and just hit Wendell, and Arna intervened.

Father glared at me. “You’re right, my dear. He’s a child. I keep forgetting that, don’t I?”

“And children make so many little mistakes,” my stepmother murmured. “Each one a lesson to learn from. Now, Rian is another matter—“

“Do not speak to me of that one, wife. We are overdue for the council. Before you join us, I want you to send for Myrna. You and I will speak with her afterward and by the bloody oaks, she is going to listen this time. Where do you think you’re going?”

That last eruption was directed at me when I began to follow him up the steps. Everyone but Lady East Wind, who was busy shooing away Father’s storm cloud, darted out of sight.

“To the council, obviously.”

“No, you’re not. You're going straight to those farms to make yourself useful for once. And take that ridiculous makeup off before tonight.”

“Tonight? What’s tonight?"

He turned, clenching the rail in his fist like he wanted to throw it somewhere. “The family picnic, Liath. The one we’ve been planning all summer. I told you we would have it once everyone was home. We were just talking about it at breakfast."

I rolled my eyes. “Father, be serious. ‘Family’? Hardly any of us can stand the sight of each other right now. Which of us do you think is going to enjoy an entire night of mandatory family togetherness? Rian and Caragh are practically at each other’s throats. I’m mad at Orrin and everybody’s mad at me. Myrna hasn’t spoken one word to Odrin ever since he nearly killed what’s-his-name, that mortal harpist. Wasn’t that a riot.”

“I think you mean my brother-in-law,” my stepmother added tersely. “And Myrna barely speaks to anyone anyway.”

“Because you don’t let her! You see what I mean? This picnic is a recipe for disaster, and I’d rather not be a casualty.”

"We always have this midnight picnic before the harvest markets get going!" Father said. "And your stepmother has been planning this for months. It means the world to her, having everyone together for once. It’s been ages.”

My stepmother shook her head. “No, it's all right. We can all have a late breakfast together tomorrow at midday. I’m sure some heads will have cooled by then. The council, darling.” She darted her eyes meaningfully up the steps, where spectators were gathering again. No doubt they were wondering if this thing was ever going to get underway.

"Fine." Father pointed a finger in my face. “But you listen to me, boy. If [too spoilery]

Now I was the one whose face was growing hot. “Are you quite finished, Your Highness? Am I dismissed?”

“You are. Get out of my sight.”

He turned and stormed up the steps, nearly colliding with Lady East Wind. She fizzled out of existence and whooshed out of his way.

I turned on my stepmother. “What’s this about Myrna? Are you trying to marry her off again?”

“Calm down, Liath,” she said smoothly. “Your face is all red, just like your father. And Myrna can take care of herself—it’s just a discussion. Marriage is a perfectly normal diplomatic tool on both sides of the door.”

“Oh? Then why aren’t you marrying off the twins?”

“Nobody wants them, dear. I’ve tried.”

“And Rian?”

She pressed her lips together in a tight line. “He’s gotten plenty of offers. Most were before I came to serve your mother. As I understand it, the interested parties always became uninterested parties as soon as they actually met him.”

I snorted my agreement. “God, can you imagine?”

“Not really, no. I can scarcely imagine him surviving long enough to wear the crown, much less a wedding ring. He really does seem determined to provoke your father, doesn’t he? Only he can’t seem to decide whether to do it via incompetence or treason.”

“Why doesn’t Father ever hit him?”

“He’s afraid Rian might hit back. With an army. Don’t trouble yourself about it, dear—let me see that cut."               

Well, I thought, this is different. My cool, distant stepmother had never been the maternal sort, but perhaps having a child of her own was changing her mind about a few things. I held still while she turned my chin this way and that to examine the damage. She summoned a little splash from the nearest fountain into her handkerchief and began to dab at the bloody cut.

“Myrna—Ow!—doesn’t want to marry anyone,” I reminded her. She just wants to be left alone.”

“We all have to make sacrifices. And nobody’s going force her; who could? It’s just time that she grew up and contributed, that’s all. We each have our own little roles to play. There.” She backed away, looking pleased. “Good as new.”

“No it isn’t. I just finished working on this thing and now it’s ruined!”

“Nonsense.” She examined the stained velvet. “Have one of your servants drop it off in my dressing room. My sewing is nothing compared to yours or your father’s, but I am a fierce enemy when it comes to bloodstains. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Thanks,” I said warily. “Only don’t try anything with the sleeves; they’re temperamental. And I am sorry, you know. About the picnic, and all the rest of it.”

“Don’t give it another thought. Your father keeps forgetting how much younger you are than the others.” She reached up and gently touched my hair this time. “Promise me you won’t grow up too fast?”

I laughed. “Don’t worry.”

I hadn’t been fair to her, I decided in that moment. In the past few months she had been kinder to all of us, or at least more patient. Of Father’s moods in particular. And her forbearance with the mud this morning was almost revolutionary. Feeling very awkward, I put my arms around her delicate shoulders. She was tense too; we’d never been particularly affectionate with each other.

Professor Byers is the spy!!

He's the one who's been reporting back to Arna so she knew all about Emily and Wendell. She needed someone mortal who would be able to keep an eye on Wendell while he's in exile.

He was the one who pushed Wendell to drink as much as possible on his birthday!! Plus in this excellent little fic Byers was the one to get Wendell drunk pre-canon and learn that he was pining after Emily.

This isn't right. I shouldn't be doing this. The story isn't supposed to go this way. I can't I can't I CAN'T DO IT HELP

Emily poisoning Arna:

-shovels so much poison into that wine glass that even Taran is impressed

-gives an edgy little speech as Arna realizes what is going