fannyfae: (Faelyn - High Lady of the Fortunate Isle)
I've been writing Frances Moira McKay / Fanny Fae or Faelyn as she is known among the Fae, for several years. Since she is actually based off of one of my ancestors, part of her is fact, some of her is fiction of my own making and a little more is folkloric in nature. If I had to choose any one person that most influenced this muse's life it would have to be her foster-mother Morgienne, who was the High Lady of the Fortunate Island. Fanny lost her mother, Maeve, when she was all of four years old, due to a plot by Morgienne. Morgienne immediately stepped up and raised the young Frances as her own. She taught the child in all manner of knowledge, of diplomacy and power and most importantly, the Mysteries. Certainly she was not a bad foster parent to Fanny as it were. It was through Morgienne's influence that the Unseelie Sidhe Court, particularly Frances' father, Gan Caenach, even acknowledged the existence of his possible bastard daughter. It was then that she was given the name of Faelyn in recognition that she was at least in some part, Unseelie, and could not be turned fully away as was the custom. Faelyn was being groomed to be Morgienne's successor and to Morgienne it made complete sense. What better way than to have someone who could go between the two Worlds because she was neither fully human nor fully Fae, but both? It was unclear at that point how Faelyn's hand of power would emerge, but if she did possess one, outside of the natural abilities that she demonstrated in herbal lore, diplomacy and spellcraft, then it would undoubtedly be something interesting to watch.

It was not until Fanny was in her late teens that she discovered Morgiennes's complicity in her own mother's death. In true Fae fashion, the insult was unforgivable. It was at this point where she decided that blood would answer for blood, in spite of all that Morgienne may have done for her up until that time. And so she waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. When at last it arrived, Faelyn selected a slow poison. She was skilled enough in poisoncraft and herbal medicine that she was able to inflict upon her foster mother an incredible amount of suffering and kept her lingering for months with no one, not even Morgienne herself being any the wiser. She spent an incredible amount of time and great care in insuring that her foster mother's death was as painful and as prolonged as possible. It was near the end, when the woman could no longer speak nor protest but could only listen that Faelyn whispered what had been going on - and what was to come in the Seven Realms of existence following her imminent passing. All memories of her foster mother would be struck from every temple, every monument and every document. The second death was the death which all who lived between the worlds feared most. If no one remembers your name, and no one speaks of you, then you cease to exist. What Faelyn does not - or maybe she does realize is that by speaking of Morgienne, she in turn is keeping Morgienne alive in at least one Realm of Existence.

Morgienne gave her tenacity, gave her knowledge, an insatiable fascination with Power, a singular sense of survival and a strength of Will. It was all of these things that made her who she is at her core. Subconsciously, I think that there is a bit of Morgienne in there, because I have seen her do things that I have been told her foster mother once did. She is also her mother's and father's daughter . Faelyn's / Frances' mother was a gentle woman with a loving heart. I have seen my muse demonstrate profound acts of kindness to those whom she barely knows, and I have seen her likewise exorcise demons of such cruelty that I question whether or not I truly know her.

Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 669
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] realmofthemuse
fannyfae: (Default)
"What most people don't seem to realize is that there is just as much money to be made out of the wreckage of a civilization as from the upbuilding of one… There's good money in empire building. But, there's more in empire wrecking." - Rhett Butler, 'Gone With The Wind' (Margaret Mitchell).

It is clear that Mr. Rhett Butler obviously understands the Laws of Power. Empires rise and Empires fall. People tend to be most generally complacent and stupid. They hate change. They resist it; never realizing that the very fabric of Life itself is always about change. Without it, like it or not, things stagnate, whither and die. But most do not pay attention to the cycles of change and even from this can be found profit and a way to not only survive, but to thrive. My own life has been long, I have seen and assisted in any number of literal empires in their rise and fall. And I have, from the inevitable rising and falling, profited from it.

Much has been written about how to wage war, how to build an empire or to preserve it or to strike one down. I have done both. Those who would build empires or tear them down forget one thing. They forget the rules of engagement with the opposition. Dreams of glory through full frontal assault make ordinary men (or women) into pocket potentates. And yet, not every war has been won with such blatant assault.

In this game that is Life, we all mean to win. None of us enter it setting out or even expecting to lose. But in order to win, you must realize that for most, the intellect loses to emotion. Groups think emotionally. The members of any given group will only change their course if something directly affecting them and their lifestyle is at stake. If they have something to lose, or if rather greed sets in because of a fear of lack. If you manipulate a situation just so, they will behave in a manner that cuts along the lines of instinct and therefore they will do as you wish them to. And they will do so simply because they cannot help themselves. And if you are the calm in the storm, more often times than not they will do whatever you ask. Thus, the tides of Power shift and you can be there to reap the rewards.

Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 353

Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (Default)
Yes, there is. And for the inability to not have done that, I sometimes feel as if there is a hole inside the very centre of me. It is as if there is an emptiness that is so raw that it sometimes burns to the point where it will consume me whole. I wake up and I dream of that love that I once had with Sebastien. It was a love that even time could not erase nor replace. Every angel, every daemon stood stock still and didn't dare to breathe for fear it would evaporate in a single moment; and I swear that it must have. All I ever wanted was just want someone to love me; and he was that someone. No mother, no father, no other lover, not even the Divine came close to that love. Maybe I've already had all of the happiness in my life that I ever can have. I don't want to believe it, but the time is past. I often wake up remembering that sweet dream, only to realize that Sebastien is gone. There is only me and the memory of what once was, and that a part of me died with him that day.

"You said you'd love me forever!" I cried, my fingers traced a line through the blood that spilled from the gash in his throat. His blood mingled with my tears, and I wanted to will him back. 'How much is enough? 'I wanted to scream. But only sobs wracked my body as my lips brushed across the curve of his neck.

"Please, please, don't leave me!" I whispered; as if my will alone could bring him back. But I couldn't. My biggest mistake was loving a man with a reputation, a history. Never mind that this history, this reputation had nothing to do with who and how I knew that he was. From the moment we laid eyes upon each other, I knew - and he said he knew, too - that we were two halves of the same whole. We were nearly inseparable from that time, for years to come. We were happy, and those things of his reputation that he was known for mattered not. Gone was the murderous man who was bent only on vengeance. Gone.

Lest you think otherwise, let me assure you that nothing could have assuaged my grief where Sebastien's death was concerned. A part of me will always be numbed and tucked away, wounded, bleeding and angry that I could do nothing to stop it. Not even in my love of him was to stop what he and I both knew was a painful inevitability. There were those who warned me not to traverse the slippery slope of the emotion of love, that I would lose too much of myself, forget the potential of who I was, what I had been or who and what I could become.

All I knew is that I loved him. I loved him beyond all reason, and it was because of that reason that my grief caved upon me like a thousand ton monolith burying me within it for many years to come. I bought the linen and made his burial shroud with my own hand. Every stitch I put in it was sewn with my tears in between. Even after he was lain to rest and his grave had gone to green, the sense of loss did not subside. I've spent the last five centuries missing him wishing there was something I could have done to have saved his life that day.

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 568
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] elite_muses

Night

Feb. 10th, 2007 08:41 am
fannyfae: (Within the cloak of Night)
It had been the night blooming jasmine and the way that it glowed in the moonlight that caught my eye. Most nights, if I had been on such a mission, I would have not stopped, not listened to the undeniable beckoning of the garden and it’s inhabitants. But this night was different. The moon was full and spring was first spilling out from the freshly thawed soil. At any other time I would often interact with those whom I called my garden or forest “allies”, and one more the delicate flowers seemed to reach out to me with a scent so sweet that I could not resist.

With slender fingers I reached out and caressed the leaves, petals and stalk of the ful shrub and I leaned forward to breathe the heady scent of flowers. The hood of my black velvet cloak fell back from my head as I did so.

“It was in the East when I first met you, O’ beauteous one,” I smiled at the prolifically blooming bush, speaking to it as if it were another person, “men have waged wars and spilled much blood on the desert sands just so they can catch a heady breath of you. They bring your scent and lay it at the feet of queens, princesses and women of all castes. Your promise is nothing more than the inspiration of love.” I looked up at the moon and smiled, “under Mother Moon’s gaze, there is no way for you not to accomplish that.”

The garden, I had noticed, had gone strangely silent. I was raised to sense the presence of others and now I felt the gaze of some one or some thing looking at me, listening. The sensation was one of cold, yet curious icy tendrils that reached out like a vine in the shadows that shifted. I pulled the folds of my cloak a bit tighter around me, and replaced the voluminous hood back over my hair and made my way back to the paved walkway toward the palace that was illuminated in a riot of light and colour.

Before I mounted the large marble staircase that led to the entrance of the palace itself, I caught glimpse of a darkly clad man leaning over, looking down at me, as if he had specifically been waiting for me to come inside If it had not been for the glint of his single eye in the reflective light indoors or from the moon I was not certain that I would have seen him at all. Not able to shake the same feeling that I had experienced in the garden as I ducked into the doorway. I was both invited and expected as a guest of the Court of Louis XIII and his Queen, Anne and to have tarried longer would have aroused suspicion. Still, I could not shake the image of the man who was dark as Raven whose one eye studied me relentlessly.

Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology / Fandom
Word Count: 496
Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (Default)
I wait for perfect timing.

It does not mean that I am hesitant, or cowardly. I mean to master the art of timing, and in order to do that, you must learn the value of waiting. This involves the control of not only your own emotions but of those around you. I refuse to let those around me push me into rash decisions. Why would I let someone else set the pace? Those who rush, those who do not wait, those who do not pause long enough to carefully pay attention to the nuances of any situation often run headlong into disaster. Let others run headlong into the danger and those with cooler heads and a greater penchant toward strategy will find the precise moment from which they may harvest the greatest benefit.

I do not wait for reasons of self preservation, or out of anything other than playing the game of Power in order to win it. I will not be goaded, prodded, baited or cajoled one moment before I am ready to make my move. By doing this, I maintain control. I have taken years, decades, even centuries to build the foundations of Power as I see fit. Those who do not bother to deliberate judiciously will often mistake a flight of fancy or a passing trend for what lies beneath it all. Why not step back, observe and pay attention to what is really happening? But you cannot do that if you are continually in a hurry and have no sense of timing.

On the other hand, when you can make those around you believe that they control things, that is when you hold the greatest amount of control of all. I do not mind watching them hurry and scurry about. When you can convince the other side that they must hurry, that time is of the essence - especially when you have all the time in the world, that is a great secret to winning the game. When you set the pace, control the clock, and can force your opponent's timing, you gain the upper hand. It is that application of pressure that can make them snap - especially when you are the one setting the deadline. I will wait as long as necessary for the precise and most advantageous moment. I make them yield to my pace and when the time comes to strike, I do so decisively and without mercy.


Muse: Fanny Fae/ Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 403
fannyfae: (Faelyn - High Lady of the Fortunate Isle)
have always been extremely selective about who I take to my bed. So in this I am already not what most would consider ideal as a ‘significant other’. The worst quality that I know that I possess in that particular role is the fact that I cannot make that person, the centre of my world. More precisely, I will not. Princely responsibility is my spouse, and Power my paramour. Most husbands or lovers cannot bear the thought that it will rarely be them who keeps you up at night. It isn’t that I prefer the company of pen and parchment to the tender ministrations of my consort. However, if the needs of the Realm are not met, then there will truly not be time to languish under their attentive touch.

Nuada understood this, for he, too, was a sovereign. The Red King would have his own responsibilities and commitments to which he had to attend. And it was understood between us what was required. In time, we both knew that neither of us would place the other above that which was needful. We were both wed to Sovereignty and Sovereignty would always command our fidelity. The others in our lives, both Mortal and Immortal - most of them nobility, either Fae or Human - could at least relate somewhat to the concept of noblesse oblige. A long time friend, sometimes lover, a warlord no less, and I often talk of such things. Athos, once himself a Comte, and later, for much, much longer, Sebastien, also a Comte, understood very well what it is that I am saying here. It is not that I did not love them. I did and do. But that has little if anything to do with the true order of things.

Love, in fact, may very well be Lord of All in the eyes of the world. But to me and those like me, it does not erase that which needs to be done. For me, every word is calculated, every move carefully contemplated. Every breath is measured, strategised and meted out with these considerations in mind. Life is a chess game, and love both a battlefield and an accoutrement. Not many would put up with such in their significant other.



Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 373
fannyfae: (Default)
Need )

Fanny Fae
Original Character
456 words
cross posted to [livejournal.com profile] elite_muses
fannyfae: (Default)
hat keeps me up at night does not have anything to do with any sort of act that I have come to be ashamed of for having done. My loss of sleep will on more ocassions than not has more to do with matters of State, rather than the careful attentions of a lover. Would that I could actually be the hedonistic despot that I sometimes get accused of being. )


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 431
cropssposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (our lady of earrings)
here was a time when I would have said that I did not do guilt, that there was no guilt within me. After a lot of contemplation and reflection, there is perhaps one thing I am most guilty about.

Guilt.... )

Muse:: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 384
fannyfae: (slick)
South of the Border (NC-17 for language & explicit sex. Not work safe) )

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 1323
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] elite_muses
fannyfae: (take a bite)
don't know why I should deign to answer such an insulting question. Lamest excuse? I make no excuses. I need none. Excuses and apologies are for the weak. Mistakes in life happen because the world is just too damned unpredictable. Anyone with any sort of real power to wield does not make excuses. They are very careful to make their mistakes in such a fashion that even those with the sharpest of eyes are left to wonder if the so-called mistake was not intentional in the first place. An excuse or worse, an apology for having made one, can prove fatal, and so they are avoided. If you apologize, you will be judged by lesser and greater persons as to your intentions or your competence. You must never leave room for doubt on that count, I assure you.

An excuse satisfies no one; therefore you should never give them. Nor should you ever under any circumstance accept them.

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 163
crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
fannyfae: (Faelyn - High Lady of the Fortunate Isle)
"Any man who tries to be good all the time is bound to come to ruin among the great number who are not good. Hence a prince who wants to keep his authority must learn how not to be good, and use that knowledge, or refrain from using it, as necessity requires"

~ "The Prince", Nicolo Machiavelli, 1469-1527


hey say that who we are is a product of the events of our childhood. I imagine that my life would offer no exception to that particular adage. I decided at a very young age that I would never be the victim of someone else's power and control. I suppose it could be said that it was always my ambition to rule, if not over others certainly over all aspects of my own life. I daresay that I have achieved both of these things.

I learned first hand how the powerful could either take the power they had and could give great benefit to those around them, or cause incredible pain and suffering. As a child, it was Morgienne, the woman who was then the High Lady of the Fortunate Island who took my mother from me. It happened when I was very small and I did not learn of her treachery until I was on the edge of womanhood. When I did learn of it, it became an all consuming passion; an obsession. I made it a point to study all forms of Power, its Laws and Mysteries. I committed them all to memory and I used them and turned them on upon those who would choose to exploit me and mine.

Even as a child, my ambition was to rule. To be successful, I learned the art of duplicity, which at any court is absolutely essential. With Morgienne, I was unmerciful as she in fact was unmerciful. Constantly over the course of my life, I watched, I observed all the while discreetly insuring that I would take my revenge as well as the throne of High Lady of the Fortunate Island. All that need happen was for nature to take its course. At last, the people saw her for what she truly was, her star began to fade and she was weak enough to be struck. If I had been convinced to be foolish enough to let her live, the viper would have reared up and bit me once more. Morgienne would not have been merciful, and so the viper was destroyed, swiftly, without hesitation and all remnants of her regime swept away. My childhood ambition was at last realized, my desire for vengeance had at last been exorcized.


Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore Mythology
Word Count: 380 (Michavelli quote not included in count)
Cross posted to [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse

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