Being Loved is a Powerful Thing

I wrote another entry for the Brandon Sanderson contest. This one is split up into five mini-chapters. They'd be longer if I didn't have only 1000 words to work with!

Enjoy!
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BELOVED

HATE

"I killed your parents." 

A tear leaked down Layenne's rosy cheek as she trembled. "I love you," she whispered harshly, fist clenching at her side.

"I know," I replied softly, looking out the window over my kingdom. "I know." 

WISH

"My wish?" I questioned. Words were on my tongue immediately: power, gold, land, food enough to last a lifetime--but there was always a price for offers like this. "What's the catch?"

The fae-woman smiled, holding up a slender finger. "Clever you are, which will take you far. There is no trick to this--only in what you wish." 

I rested my ax on my shoulder as I considered her. She was a young-looking thing, though she was likely hundreds of years old. Curly, lovely, white hair spilled down her sky-cloaked back, shimmering like the white caps of the ocean as she walked. Sly, icy-blue eyes watched me from a perfect oval face, and pale lips parted in a smile.

I had come upon her while I was trekking to my cabin in the woods, as I did every day after work. The fae were an odd lot; they found it a shame to be in the mortal realm. So, in exchange for me telling no one of her visit, she would grant me a wish.

I frowned, not sure what to make of her riddle. "What do you mean?" 

"Yours may have a twist; it might not." Her voice was like the music of a siren.

I tilted my head, and began to think for a wish that would overcome common pitfalls found in stories. 

"What is your name?" I asked.

She gave a laugh like the clinking of icicles falling from a tree. "Rarely do I meet one as you," she mused. "I am called Winter. What is your wish, young lumberman?"

I rubbed the handle of my ax with my thumb, pursing my lips. "I wish . . . to be loved by all who know me."

She paused, then narrowed her eyes as she grinned, revealing cruel, sharp teeth. "It is done," she said as an icy cold wind picked up around us, biting into my skin. "I won't regret your wish." 

Before I could ask her what she meant by that, she vanished.

MARKET

"I want t' promote you."

My ax bit into the cedar tree, and Arvid waited patiently for me to pull it out. Three days had passed since I met Winter. "Promote me?" I asked finally, turning to him. 

"Yes," he said. "I'd like you t' come t' Market with me and sell th' lumber." 

"Why so suddenly?" 

"You're th' best man I got 'round 'ere," he said, then raised a hand to a Jerold as the older, more experienced lumberjack passed. "No offense."

"None taken!" Jerold said, grinning as he looked to me. "Everyone here thinks the same."

"Alright, then," I agreed. "I'll come with you to Market."

***

I hopped down from the front of the wagon to help Arvid unload lumber to some rich man's cart. A woman oversaw the work, along with some men. She was dressed in a fine wool coat, and her dark brown hair brushed against her shoulders each time she turned her head to watch someone work with owlish eyes.

"Lumberjack," she called to me as I was returning to the cart. 

I paused. "Yeah?"

"What's your name?" she asked curiously, climbing down from her perch on her wagon. "I haven't seen you at Market before."

"Davin Sen, m'lady," I said, tipping my hat. 

"Don't you recognize me?" she questioned curiously.

"'Fraid not. Should I?" 

She covered a smile with a gloved hand. "I'm Layenne. Princess Layenne."

"Oh," I said dumbly, and then gave a short bow. 

She giggled. "I like you. Come with me, Davin. I have someone I want you to meet." 

OBSESSION

"Davin! We're going to be late," Layenne declared as she swept into the room. She clapped in delight at my appearance. "You look positively devastating!"

Admiring myself in the mirror, I smiled. I did look devilish in the three-pieced, black suit. I would likely be the center of attention that night, much as had happened the last few balls. I ran a hair through my blond hair, and turned to her.

She was my perfect compliment, dressed in a lovely white cloth that wrapped around her body like the feathers on a swan. Her smile lit up the room as she came over to me, tugging my clothing into place. I gently took her hands, and she looked up at me.

"I love you," she said, and I knew she was telling the absolute truth.

It warmed me. No one said it out loud except her, though I knew everyone did. Three months had passed since my wish, and my life had never been better. Not a word of anger was ever directed my way any more, and there were very few that wouldn't give me whatever I wished.

"That's why we're getting married," I reminded her with a smile, then gave her a soft kiss. 

CORRUPTION

"Step down from the throne." 

"Not so soon, young Davin," King Aldric said in his slow way, giving me a smile. "I have a little life in me yet. The kingdom will be yours and my daughter's before long."

That was not soon enough.  I wanted the kingdom now. "Can you call mother in for me?" I asked, sitting down. 

Just a minute later, Queen Delmi stepped into the study, with her maidservant, Alyssa, supporting her at her side. "You have need of me?" she asked, exhaling as she was helped into the third chair. "You may go, Alyssa."

The girl gave a small curtsy, her wistful eyes lingering on me as she left the room. I smiled; her attention was rightly placed.

"I do," I said, standing. "Your time has passed."

"Davin?" the queen asked with some concern as I unsheathed my sword, although her love for me was strong enough to contest the concern.

Just as I would have it.

"Goodbye." 

2nd Draft of Counterfeit

People had issues with my characterization, what the power was, the chapter structure, and a few other things in my story. So, I've rewritten it, and hopefully it's better now!

Here it is!

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Who the hell let a reporter into my office? I thought with a scowl as my door swung in, permitting a young woman. The permeating scent of stubborn determination filled the air like a bad perfume, and she strode to my desk, extending her hand while flashing a winning smile.

"Good morning, High President," she greeted cheerily, blue eyes sparkling. She had an odd clip to her voice—a familiar accent, but one I couldn't place. "I'm Laura Brown."

I considered her for a moment, then, still frowning, deigned to stand and shake her hand. "Good morning. Now I would appreciate it if you leave. I'm busy enough without rude interruptions."

"Actually, that's what I'm here to talk to you about," she said, stepping away and making herself comfortable in one of the chairs across from me and folded one black-clad leg over the other, her foot bouncing happily.

Laura's aura was confident—only the slightest amount of fear tinted it. She knew that  I could have security come and toss her out if I chose.  How did she get in here, though? Who didn't run this past me?

Reporters were a obstinate lot. They were the sort of people that I had a hard time dissuading from bothering me.

"What's it like to be the ruler of the world?" she asked, and I could feel smugness in her aura at the fact that I had not called for security yet.

Exhausting. And fairly boring. "Busy enough," I said, sitting back down and taking my reading glasses off, "even without a nosy reporter in my office." It wasn't the right thing to say to get her to go away—I knew that it would be harder than that. Like the time I had had to convince the congressmen to lower the age for the American Presidential office.

Laura didn't take the hint; instead, her aura grew more bold after a moment of irritation, and I finally turned my attention fully to reading her.

I'm not about to let this opportunity slip out of my hands, she was thinking as she opened her mouth to speak.

God, I'd wish she'd leave already. I have things to do. Annoyingly dry things—I was far off from eliminating the paper system of the 'old' world—but I had to do them nevertheless.

I held up a hand, stopping her before she began. "I am not interested in discussing—"

"You're bored," she interjected idly, cutting me off.

"Excuse me?" I asked, though I was more surprised than irritated.

                                                                                                                                     

"There's nothing else for you to do, nowhere else up the ladder to go," she told me matter-of-factly as she flicked the end of her pony tail over her shoulder.

How did she . . . ? I thought with surprise, scrutinizing her closer.

Like a shark sensing blood, she pursued, the scent of triumph tainting the air. "Rising to power was like a game to you. Each step higher was just another piece to take out."

Though they had to be guesses, her guesses sounded confident. Very confident.

My ascent to power was public record. It had taken a lot of political maneuvering, greasing of hands, and countless debates. Fortunately, I had always had money and some power in the political world—my parents had had connections, even back then—and it hadn't taken long for me to shoot up the ladder.

As confident as me, I realized, remembering how I had climbed up the social ladder. Could it be possible . . . ?

"What makes you say that?" I questioned while leaning back in my seat.

Giving the same, perfect-teeth smile, she continued as the scent of triumph and smugness growing stronger. "As soon as you turned eighteen, you ran for mayor of Seattle. Against the odds, you won. Then you made state governor. Next thing everyone knows, you're the king of the world a short ten years later."

A year had passed since then, and I was having some troubles wrangling down rebel groups from several of the more mulish countries who refused to accept a once-American as their leader.

Wait, I thought with surprise as I realized something. She had gotten me to ask her a question. Blazes. I didn't respond to her prodding—she hadn't asked a question, after all—instead frowning deeper and starting to pick apart her aura. This was a foe worthy of my full attention.

You don't know me. The message came through brightly, and shock grew through me as she gave me a sly smile. I wonder how you came to power without the aid of something greater?

Inconceivable, I thought, baffled by the thought that there was another like me. There had never been another who could match what I could do.

"Do you consider yourself a good man?" she asked—another question that caught me off guard.

Dammit. I had to stop letting her do that.

I was hesitant to answer the question, which would give me away if she really was like me. Indeed, I could feel her aura shifting, although she waited for me to respond this time. "No," I finally said, shifting a paper on my desk. "I don't. When was the last time you elected a good man, though?"

"We didn't elect you," she informed me, and I gave a small nod. This was true. Democracy was a step I had skipped when I started taking over the other countries. "What do you consider yourself?"

It was a question I had asked myself for a long time. Though I had never thought myself a good man, I had done great things since I took over. I had ended world hunger. I was on the way to achieving world peace. I had allowed new technologies to come forth that had been repressed—a water-powered car, for one.

In those aspects, I was a hero to many. But the lengths I had gone to achieve to achieve power, and the reasons, were not heroic by any means. Using the ability to sense wants and hear thoughts to emotionally—and otherwise—manipulate people had never been the trademark of a hero. I bent  

 "A villain, perhaps," I said. I had, after all, abused an extraordinary gift given to me to attain a position unlike any other. Then I cursed myself again. She was a bloody reporter. Whatever I said today might be in tomorrow's news.

But . . . the allure of someone who was like me at all was strong.  

"And why is that?" she questioned further, leaning forward.

After a long moment, I said, "Because there was no one to stop me."

She smiled broader, and I could hear from her aura a distinct message:

Not anymore.  

"I believe that will be all," she said, standing.

I stood with her, extending a hand while smiling at the challenge—something new and foreign, but welcome. "Well met, Laura Brown."

Counterfeit

The End

"So," the woman sitting before me asked, smoothing her skirt down as she picked up her pencil and notebook. "What's it like to be the ruler of the world?"

"Frankly?" I replied "Exhausting." I leaned back in my chair, looking lazily out over the city.

This was not the expected answer. I could feel the surprise emanating from her. The blonde reporter looked up sharply, bangs swaying on her forehead. "Excuse me?"

"First there was the political maneuvering to get to this spot," I said idly, wiping off a speck of dust from the seat of my black chair. "Then there's the baggage that people expect you to take care of when you're the leader." I sighed, standing and turning to the window completely, clasping my hands behind my back. "What good is owning the world if no one follows you? In order to keep my kingdom, short of making everyone hate and fear me, I have to please the people."

"Well . . ." the reporter said as her pencil scratched frantically across paper. She cleared her throat after a moment. "Not a lot is known about how you rose to power . . . ."

"Mm," I said, rolling my shoulders. "Okay. I'll bite."

What could it hurt to tell everyone, now that I was the undisputed ruler? Perhaps a hero would rise against me.

Hah. 

The Beginning

"I had always been a people-pleaser. In school, I was always the 'teacher's pet.' I wanted people to think the best of me, and I always knew just what to say to get people on my good side. In essence, I had a superpower--and unlikely one, but one nevertheless." 

I paused, thinking as I tapped my thumb over the other. The girl was anticipating my next words, her aura abuzz with curiosity. I smiled to myself, then continued.

"I've had it all my life, yet I know no one else who can do what I can--I can sense what people want to hear. I can 'read' people's emotions, as it were."

The woman shifted in her seat as she scribbled. You can tell what I'm thinking? her aura seemed to say, the sharp scent of trepidation in the air. I glanced back at her with my smile, and her eyes darted away.

"Years passed. I graduated high school with a diploma, and found I had nothing. Years of sucking up to teachers, my parents, and other students had gotten me nowhere--except for a stinking diploma, which any old loser can get. 

"That's when I decided I was done. I had honed my art enough at this point that I knew what I wanted to do. I didn't want to be teased for being a kiss-ass anymore. I wanted people to kiss my ass, for once in my life.

"It didn't start out as 'world domination.' First it was becoming mayor of the city. I can't tell you how many hands I had to shake, how many meetings I had to attend, the debates I had to give . . . but in a short six months, I was elected president of the city." 

I paused to chuckle. "I wanted people to bow down to me, and how they did. And then, I realized, I wanted more. Next it was creeping up to becoming state governor. Then I slowly worked my way up to being a congressman--I barely met the minimum criteria of being twenty-five, at the time.

"Little did people know, six years later, at age thirty-one, I would be the youngest president--or likely the youngest, anyways. I never was all that good at history--America had ever seen. 

"And then, like dominoes, the others fell before me." I smiled. The foreign nations had been a bit harder to conquer than America, due to their obstinacy, but I had won in the end. "It's easy to win when you know what everyone wants--and you have the power to grant it."

Everything in Between

Her pencil scribbling on the page was the only thing heard in the office for a moment. She wanted to get all of this new information down.

Then there was silence in the office as I continued to survey the city below. I could feel her aura behind me--wondrous, in awe of me. That was to be expected.

"You once declared yourself as evil," she finally said, her aura becoming curious again.

The way of a reporter, I mused. In awe one moment, then right after you again.

"Why is that?" she questioned when I didn't respond.

By the time I had taken over the world, the world didn't know what had happened. One minute there were wars and contentions, and the next, unified beneath my flag.

"I'm evil because there was no one to stop me," I replied simply.

The confusion was evident all over her face. I didn't need a supernatural ability to sense it. "How would that make you evil?" she questioned. "You ended wars--world hunger, even. You're a hero!"

A wry smile twisted my face. "Just because you can doesn't always mean you should. I could manipulate you right now into sleeping with me."

"But you aren't," she pointed out, emphasizing it with a pencil wag at me.

"Yes. Mostly because I have no interest in doing such a thing," I mused. I didn't care because I could manipulate anyone the hell I wanted to sleep with me. People had ceased to be of great interest to me long ago, after so many years of twisting them to what I wanted. "However, I used base emotional manipulation to get where I am today. Tell me . . . when has that ever been the act of a hero?"

She paused, mouth open as if to respond. Then she shut it, frowning as she scrutinized me. Her aura was wary--almost betrayed. A counterfeit, it accused.

It would be right.

I smirked. "What was your name, again?"

Supervillain

I've always thought taking over the world was a bad plan for a supervillain. Once you're the leader of the world, there's nothing left to conquer, and you have to maintain control. If you don't maintain control directly, then you run the risk of one of your underlings gaining more influence and power than you.

Of course, I suppose you could just kill that person off, unless they killed you first. Being a supervillain just doesn't seem fun. Happily Never After was one show I think described this pretty well. What if Rumpelstiltskin had gotten the baby?

Why did he want the baby? What would he do with a baby? I don't go around trying to con people out of their babies. (Well, I'm not a villain either, but nuances.)

Anyways, back to the reason of this post. I'm writing another flash fiction! This one is for a contest, though. It's on Figment (a site I don't trust; read its Terms and Conditions and you'll figure out why) but it's put on by Brandon Sanderson.

In case you didn't read my magic systems ramblings, or you missed the fangirling in between the lines, I absolutely adore Sanderson's work. He's one of the very few people I would find meeting/talking to flail-worthy (the other people mostly consist of ThePianoGuys).

I deleted my account off Figment a while ago after I read through their Terms and Conditions, but the possible prize of talking to Sanderson is enough enticement to make me go back. At least for a little while.

It makes me wonder if he'd respond to an email of mine, or just delete it as fanmail. I wonder if he responds to fanmail. Maybe I should ask him. He's a cool guy.

OFF TOPIC!

The contest prompt: “If you were a super-villain, what would your one power be? And how would you use it to conquer the world?” --Brandon Sanderson

So far, I have the following. It's only about 250 words, and it will be the first "chapter" of my flash fiction. I have yet to even figure out what power my supervillain has, to be truthful. (I'll stop talking now. Here it is):


"So," the woman sitting before me asked, smoothing her skirt down as she picked up her pencil and notebook. "What's it like to be the ruler of the world?"

"Frankly?" I replied, snorting. "Exhausting. I wish I could quit." I leaned back in my chair, looking lazily out over the city.

This, of course, was not the expected answer. The blonde reporter looked up sharply, her bangs swaying on her forehead. "Excuse me?" she questioned, surprised.

"First there was the political maneuvering to get to this spot," I said idly, wiping off a speck of dust from the seat of my black chair. "Then there's the baggage that people expect you to take care of when you're the leader." I sighed, standing up and turned to the window completely, clasping my hands behind my back. "What good is owning the world if no one follows you? In order to keep my kingdom, short of making everyone hate and fear me, I have to please the people."

"Well . . ." the reporter said, and I could hear her pencil scratching frantically across the paper. She cleared her throat after a moment. "Not a lot is known about how you rose to power . . . ."

"Mm," I said, rolling my shoulders. "Okay. I'll bite."

What could it hurt to tell everyone, now that I was the undisputed ruler? Perhaps a hero would rise against me.

Hah.