Story: Curse You
Title: Curse You
Author: grimcognito
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own all of it, characters, story and all. Do not steal or use without permission, thank you kindly.
Author Notes: I have this thing for liking the background and side characters more than the originals, so I end up writing stories about the monsters fighting the adventurers and the background guy #5. *shrug*
Summary: Ever wonder who's job it is to come up with all those pesky curses in the world of fairytales? Ever wonder why some of them don't seem to make much sense? Well, after a few years, it's just not that easy to be original. Sometimes a Cursewriter's got to step outside the box a little. Sure, someone else might call it a small mental breakdown, but hey, if it works.
Word Count: 1106
Drom heaved an aggravated sigh and slumped in his chair, tapping his quill against his enchanted parchment. It made a mess of ink on the cream colored surface and across his already ink-stained fingers, but he hardly cared.
Twelve years, he’d been doing this job as head Cursewriter of the Cursemaker Guild, and he could see why the one holding this position before him had gone and offed himself. He really couldn’t blame the man for throwing himself bodily from the tower window; he was half tempted to do it too.
Curse-writing had seemed like a great job at the time. He got to choose his own hours, nobody bothered him as long as he did his work, he knew half the scandals in just about every kingdom before they even happened, and best of all he loved to write. And it had been all good and well for the first few years, creating new curses for the various princes, princesses, kings, peasants and everything in between to fall under. A way to teach lessons, make true lovers find each other, so on and so forth, which was great, if one had some fresh ideas.
Drom had gotten tired of the usual, ‘change into and animal and true love’s kiss breaks the spell’, or ‘become a hideous monster until you learn the true meaning of beauty’ about nine years back, and now it seemed as if he’d used up all inspiration for even the most random of tasks to fulfill. ‘Serve a cat for seven years just to get a nice horse and end up saving a princess?’ Already done. ‘Solve three seemingly impossible tasks and win yourself a maiden?’ Overused and never as difficult as they seem. ‘Be nice to the beggar, old woman, tired traveler, etc. and win a glorious prize?’ Check, check, and check again.
He rubbed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache building. It wasn’t until he moved to pick up his quill again that he realized he’d just spread ink all over his face and groaned. Today was definitely not a good day. He’d have been happy to just shuffle back to his bed and try again later, but he had a deadline approaching and a spoiled princess to curse.
It didn’t help that the newest addition to the Cursebreaker’s League was a sneaky bastard who was too damned good at his job. Curses barely lasted a year now, what with the guild sending out kindly old ladies and helpful people standing about in the woods just giving away all the answers to whatever idiot happened to be on a quest. He sat up with a grin suddenly, an idea popping in his mind like a spark of fire on dry kindle.
Perhaps he’d just been too lenient so far, too kind with his curses, stuck in a rut, if you will. Well, fine then. He began scribbling, writing whatever task sounded the most ridiculous in his head. A selfish princess will be cursed to live life as a peasant, and no one but she shall remember who she truly is until she leaves her selfish ways and entices two fated enemies to share a kiss.
Ha! He’d like to see the Cursebreakers deal with that one. Satisfied, he finished the curse with his signature flourish and the inked glowed for a brief moment as the curse took effect. Satisfied, he dropped his quill back into the little pot of ink and began to ready for bed. Halfway through pulling back his bed sheets, there was a loud pop outside of his doorway and not a moment later, loud knocking and a familiar voice. “Drom! Open this door.”
Drom considered ignoring him, pretending no one was in the room, but the knocking just got louder. “I know you’re in there! I can stand here all night, and I’m sure you don’t want me yelling to all who can hear about that time at the tavern when you-”
Drom threw the door open, nearly unbaLancecing the grinning man just outside of it, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and yanked him into the room. “What are you doing here, Lance?” He hissed.
Lance just grinned even wider and held up a roll of parchment. “You really think I was going to ignore an invitation like this?”
Drom glanced at the parchment, staring for a moment before snatching it out of Lance’s hand. He held it open and looked at his own scratchy handwriting, at the exact cured he’d just written, before he glared at Lance and held it out of reach from Lance’s attempts to take it back. “You have a Duplication Charm?”
“Wait, let me expl-”
“A Duplication Charm you put on my personal work parchments?”
“It sounds really bad when you put it that-Hey!”
Drom tore the paper cleanly in two, rendering the charm useless. “No wonder you kept breaking my curses so quickly, you cheat! And what’s all this about an invitation?”
Lance looked guilty for a moment, then returned to his annoyingly cheerful self. “Hey, a Cursebreaker’s got to be sneaky to keep you Guild folks on your toes. And I’m here to break the curse.”
“How exactly do you plan on doing that?”
Lance just smiled, took a step toward him, and leaned down just enough to plant a warm, dry, all too pleasant kiss on Drom’s lips. He pulled away slowly, and Drom blinked, wondering when he’d closed his eyes, and why he was holding even more tightly to Lance’s shirt. Lance gently uncurled Drom’s fingers and stepped toward the door, licking his lips with a smile. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to do that.”
Finally regaining his bearings, Drom snapped at him, refusing to acknowledge the heat in his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant by fated enemies.”
“Even so, it worked.”
Drom smirked this time, catching Lance off guard. “She still has to become more humble, and who knows how long that will take.”
Lance nodded. “True, perhaps a second kiss would help her along? You look quite dashing with that ink smudged across your cheek.”
Drom shoved him toward the door, pushing him out and shutting it firmly. He could hear Lance’s laughter through the thick wood, and his face stayed warm long after Lance magicked himself away the same as he’d come, with a loud pop.
His lips tingled and Drom found himself smiling as he slipped into bed. Leaping out of a window could wait, because he suddenly had quite a few ideas for new curses.
Author: grimcognito
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own all of it, characters, story and all. Do not steal or use without permission, thank you kindly.
Author Notes: I have this thing for liking the background and side characters more than the originals, so I end up writing stories about the monsters fighting the adventurers and the background guy #5. *shrug*
Summary: Ever wonder who's job it is to come up with all those pesky curses in the world of fairytales? Ever wonder why some of them don't seem to make much sense? Well, after a few years, it's just not that easy to be original. Sometimes a Cursewriter's got to step outside the box a little. Sure, someone else might call it a small mental breakdown, but hey, if it works.
Word Count: 1106
Drom heaved an aggravated sigh and slumped in his chair, tapping his quill against his enchanted parchment. It made a mess of ink on the cream colored surface and across his already ink-stained fingers, but he hardly cared.
Twelve years, he’d been doing this job as head Cursewriter of the Cursemaker Guild, and he could see why the one holding this position before him had gone and offed himself. He really couldn’t blame the man for throwing himself bodily from the tower window; he was half tempted to do it too.
Curse-writing had seemed like a great job at the time. He got to choose his own hours, nobody bothered him as long as he did his work, he knew half the scandals in just about every kingdom before they even happened, and best of all he loved to write. And it had been all good and well for the first few years, creating new curses for the various princes, princesses, kings, peasants and everything in between to fall under. A way to teach lessons, make true lovers find each other, so on and so forth, which was great, if one had some fresh ideas.
Drom had gotten tired of the usual, ‘change into and animal and true love’s kiss breaks the spell’, or ‘become a hideous monster until you learn the true meaning of beauty’ about nine years back, and now it seemed as if he’d used up all inspiration for even the most random of tasks to fulfill. ‘Serve a cat for seven years just to get a nice horse and end up saving a princess?’ Already done. ‘Solve three seemingly impossible tasks and win yourself a maiden?’ Overused and never as difficult as they seem. ‘Be nice to the beggar, old woman, tired traveler, etc. and win a glorious prize?’ Check, check, and check again.
He rubbed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache building. It wasn’t until he moved to pick up his quill again that he realized he’d just spread ink all over his face and groaned. Today was definitely not a good day. He’d have been happy to just shuffle back to his bed and try again later, but he had a deadline approaching and a spoiled princess to curse.
It didn’t help that the newest addition to the Cursebreaker’s League was a sneaky bastard who was too damned good at his job. Curses barely lasted a year now, what with the guild sending out kindly old ladies and helpful people standing about in the woods just giving away all the answers to whatever idiot happened to be on a quest. He sat up with a grin suddenly, an idea popping in his mind like a spark of fire on dry kindle.
Perhaps he’d just been too lenient so far, too kind with his curses, stuck in a rut, if you will. Well, fine then. He began scribbling, writing whatever task sounded the most ridiculous in his head. A selfish princess will be cursed to live life as a peasant, and no one but she shall remember who she truly is until she leaves her selfish ways and entices two fated enemies to share a kiss.
Ha! He’d like to see the Cursebreakers deal with that one. Satisfied, he finished the curse with his signature flourish and the inked glowed for a brief moment as the curse took effect. Satisfied, he dropped his quill back into the little pot of ink and began to ready for bed. Halfway through pulling back his bed sheets, there was a loud pop outside of his doorway and not a moment later, loud knocking and a familiar voice. “Drom! Open this door.”
Drom considered ignoring him, pretending no one was in the room, but the knocking just got louder. “I know you’re in there! I can stand here all night, and I’m sure you don’t want me yelling to all who can hear about that time at the tavern when you-”
Drom threw the door open, nearly unbaLancecing the grinning man just outside of it, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and yanked him into the room. “What are you doing here, Lance?” He hissed.
Lance just grinned even wider and held up a roll of parchment. “You really think I was going to ignore an invitation like this?”
Drom glanced at the parchment, staring for a moment before snatching it out of Lance’s hand. He held it open and looked at his own scratchy handwriting, at the exact cured he’d just written, before he glared at Lance and held it out of reach from Lance’s attempts to take it back. “You have a Duplication Charm?”
“Wait, let me expl-”
“A Duplication Charm you put on my personal work parchments?”
“It sounds really bad when you put it that-Hey!”
Drom tore the paper cleanly in two, rendering the charm useless. “No wonder you kept breaking my curses so quickly, you cheat! And what’s all this about an invitation?”
Lance looked guilty for a moment, then returned to his annoyingly cheerful self. “Hey, a Cursebreaker’s got to be sneaky to keep you Guild folks on your toes. And I’m here to break the curse.”
“How exactly do you plan on doing that?”
Lance just smiled, took a step toward him, and leaned down just enough to plant a warm, dry, all too pleasant kiss on Drom’s lips. He pulled away slowly, and Drom blinked, wondering when he’d closed his eyes, and why he was holding even more tightly to Lance’s shirt. Lance gently uncurled Drom’s fingers and stepped toward the door, licking his lips with a smile. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to do that.”
Finally regaining his bearings, Drom snapped at him, refusing to acknowledge the heat in his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant by fated enemies.”
“Even so, it worked.”
Drom smirked this time, catching Lance off guard. “She still has to become more humble, and who knows how long that will take.”
Lance nodded. “True, perhaps a second kiss would help her along? You look quite dashing with that ink smudged across your cheek.”
Drom shoved him toward the door, pushing him out and shutting it firmly. He could hear Lance’s laughter through the thick wood, and his face stayed warm long after Lance magicked himself away the same as he’d come, with a loud pop.
His lips tingled and Drom found himself smiling as he slipped into bed. Leaping out of a window could wait, because he suddenly had quite a few ideas for new curses.