38
I was having a dream.
My sleep had taken me all the way back to the day I had come home from the war…
There was a welcome back party at my house.
My mother and father hosted, but I also met my sister, grandparents, cousins and aunts and uncles. Family friends and queer acquaintances…
All to herald Grace the Great home from her successful campaign.
“So,” uncle Emmet began, “tell us about it!”
“We missed you.” Agreed cousin Gary.
I… I was alone. “I led us to victory. We expanded the empire to the eastern river, and Queen Alex was pleased.”
“We all heard that!” Ella protested.
“Are you scared?” Asked aunt Lyanna. “I hear those wars can be rough on your health…
“You can tell us.” My mother murmured.
“I was alone.” I said. “But now I’m not, and that’s better.”
They left the subject alone, and I was finally able to enjoy everyone.
My sister began to drunkenly sing, an old ballad about a dragon.
“The dragon came down, from the Ender lands!
The dragon came down, and burned a man!
The dragon came down, and its wings a span!
The dragon came down, the ruffian!…”
And so on.
I wandered off, thinking of the tales of Steve the great dragon slayer… how he had vanished far away, some ninety years ago, and how the Queen was planning an expedition. If only I had known then…
“Then I blew up the boat! Their guns were ineffective, their sails whipping…” I said.
“Ooooh” said my younger cousins.
“I wanna be a warrior!” Said Eric.
“No,” I said quietly, “you don’t.”
“Tell us more!” Wailed Ethan, but I walked away.
“I think I need to get some sleep.” I said.
I lay in my bed, thinking.
A voice spoke in the back of my mind.
Never again, Grace. Never again, or I’ll have to come back.
“Shut it, scribe.” I muttered.
In the original text, the fact that Grace and the scribe were one and the same, was obscured and served as a “twist” to readers. But with it’s prevalence in our culture, this has not been disguised as closely as in the original text.
Today was the day.
Me and Grace placed some wood across a ravine.
The distance, the town of “Grey-mountains-of-snow-floating-against-the-sea”.
Grace decided to call it Gracetown, perhaps presumptuously.
“What if this doesn’t go as planned?” I asked.
“It will.” Grace said. She was trying to reassure herself, I could tell.
Up ahead, there was a huge wooden pillar.
A pair of axemen guarded it.
“I must see your lord.” Grace said.
“Have an appointment?” One asked.
“Johnny, don’t you see who this is?”
“A woman?”
“Yes!” Spluttered the guard, “and there hasn’t been a living woman in this land in a hundred years.”
“So?” Johnny asked.
“So! she must see the Empress immediately.”
“There’s a stair way,” said Johnny, “it takes you right to the throne room.”
We walked up the stairs, dimly lit with blue fire, hot.
The stairs creaked and groaned, some blue wood.
It reminded me of old tales, of a religion long abandoned. Of a hellish land below the earth, where the damned were said to roam.
Presently, we arrived at the top. The glass, stained with scenes of farms and forests, overlooked the huge sea below, where boats buzzed in the harbor.
“You’re here.”
I whipped my head around, behind me, where the voice came.
It wasn’t the villager dialect, which we had spoken far too often.
No, this was Notchish, the language me and Grace spoke. The language of home.
“I was expecting you,” the voice said.
She was a couple years older than me, with elaborate pink hair and clothing. She sat atop a wooden throne in a room of deepslate stone.
“You…” I searched my vocabulary, “…expected us?”
“Yes. I have heard word.” She smiled. “You are here because you want to take my place?”
Grace drew her sword.
“Yes,” she smirked, “now climb down, and fight, if you can.”
“I need not.” She pulled out a disc. “Surely we can bond, instead, my dear? A relic from home.”
She pushed the disc into an old jukebox.
This song took me back. It was called Cat, composed by C418 many years ago.
Grace tucked her sword in.
“What is your aim, Empress?” She asked.
“Oh, it’s very simple. But you’ll learn soon enough, Grace.” She said.
Behind me, pillagers entered.
“Yes, you should have slaughtered me, but that was not fate’s course.”
The Empress turned to Johnny.
“Here’s Johnny. He’s going to take you down the Nether Portal.”
My sleep had taken me all the way back to the day I had come home from the war…
There was a welcome back party at my house.
My mother and father hosted, but I also met my sister, grandparents, cousins and aunts and uncles. Family friends and queer acquaintances…
All to herald Grace the Great home from her successful campaign.
“So,” uncle Emmet began, “tell us about it!”
“We missed you.” Agreed cousin Gary.
I… I was alone. “I led us to victory. We expanded the empire to the eastern river, and Queen Alex was pleased.”
“We all heard that!” Ella protested.
“Are you scared?” Asked aunt Lyanna. “I hear those wars can be rough on your health…
“You can tell us.” My mother murmured.
“I was alone.” I said. “But now I’m not, and that’s better.”
They left the subject alone, and I was finally able to enjoy everyone.
My sister began to drunkenly sing, an old ballad about a dragon.
“The dragon came down, from the Ender lands!
The dragon came down, and burned a man!
The dragon came down, and its wings a span!
The dragon came down, the ruffian!…”
And so on.
I wandered off, thinking of the tales of Steve the great dragon slayer… how he had vanished far away, some ninety years ago, and how the Queen was planning an expedition. If only I had known then…
“Then I blew up the boat! Their guns were ineffective, their sails whipping…” I said.
“Ooooh” said my younger cousins.
“I wanna be a warrior!” Said Eric.
“No,” I said quietly, “you don’t.”
“Tell us more!” Wailed Ethan, but I walked away.
“I think I need to get some sleep.” I said.
I lay in my bed, thinking.
A voice spoke in the back of my mind.
Never again, Grace. Never again, or I’ll have to come back.
“Shut it, scribe.” I muttered.
In the original text, the fact that Grace and the scribe were one and the same, was obscured and served as a “twist” to readers. But with it’s prevalence in our culture, this has not been disguised as closely as in the original text.
Today was the day.
Me and Grace placed some wood across a ravine.
The distance, the town of “Grey-mountains-of-snow-floating-against-the-sea”.
Grace decided to call it Gracetown, perhaps presumptuously.
“What if this doesn’t go as planned?” I asked.
“It will.” Grace said. She was trying to reassure herself, I could tell.
Up ahead, there was a huge wooden pillar.
A pair of axemen guarded it.
“I must see your lord.” Grace said.
“Have an appointment?” One asked.
“Johnny, don’t you see who this is?”
“A woman?”
“Yes!” Spluttered the guard, “and there hasn’t been a living woman in this land in a hundred years.”
“So?” Johnny asked.
“So! she must see the Empress immediately.”
“There’s a stair way,” said Johnny, “it takes you right to the throne room.”
We walked up the stairs, dimly lit with blue fire, hot.
The stairs creaked and groaned, some blue wood.
It reminded me of old tales, of a religion long abandoned. Of a hellish land below the earth, where the damned were said to roam.
Presently, we arrived at the top. The glass, stained with scenes of farms and forests, overlooked the huge sea below, where boats buzzed in the harbor.
“You’re here.”
I whipped my head around, behind me, where the voice came.
It wasn’t the villager dialect, which we had spoken far too often.
No, this was Notchish, the language me and Grace spoke. The language of home.
“I was expecting you,” the voice said.
She was a couple years older than me, with elaborate pink hair and clothing. She sat atop a wooden throne in a room of deepslate stone.
“You…” I searched my vocabulary, “…expected us?”
“Yes. I have heard word.” She smiled. “You are here because you want to take my place?”
Grace drew her sword.
“Yes,” she smirked, “now climb down, and fight, if you can.”
“I need not.” She pulled out a disc. “Surely we can bond, instead, my dear? A relic from home.”
She pushed the disc into an old jukebox.
This song took me back. It was called Cat, composed by C418 many years ago.
Grace tucked her sword in.
“What is your aim, Empress?” She asked.
“Oh, it’s very simple. But you’ll learn soon enough, Grace.” She said.
Behind me, pillagers entered.
“Yes, you should have slaughtered me, but that was not fate’s course.”
The Empress turned to Johnny.
“Here’s Johnny. He’s going to take you down the Nether Portal.”
| Tags |
tools/tracking
6228293
6
grace-s-dream-amp-grace-vs-the-empress-gr-c-ensl-m-amp-grace-lurs-da-empras
Team UNNAMED
Useott
Molitoola
r3dleaf
coscat
R31LZ0N
GalaxyCat24
20w14infinite
The Great Magispeller
Monarque
seventeenpointfour
MarecekD033
Ender Sparkle
Elyrantha
Henry04alcalino
Create an account or sign in to comment.