April Song Writing Prompt – “I Will Possess Your Heart”

songprompt1I had a whole other story in mind for this song – “I Will Possess Your Heart” by Death Cab for Cutie – which is a favorite of mine, btw.

But, I realized that idea…was something that would be much, much too long for something like this. So I switched gears.

Right now, I’m firmly entrenched in my Albion Circle series – writing like crazy on a story and characters I love. So, I decided to stay on that path with this month’s song prompt. Well, mostly on the path. Tthis is a slight detour as it’s a glimpse inside the head of Mordred – the not-so-good guy. o.O


We belonged together.

Why didn’t Annwyl see that? Why didn’t she understand that Merlin wasn’t her other half? I was. I always had been, from the very beginning. He just got to her first.

Striding in to my study, I tugged my tie off and threw it on my desk before sitting in on of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. A few murmured words had flames springing to life, illuminating the darkening room. Another muttered spell, and a tumbler of brandy floated through the air into my waiting hand. I knocked the liquor back, relishing the burn as it worked it way down my throat to settle warmly in my stomach. I sent glass back toward the decanter to be refilled. Then, simply held the drink in my hand as anticipation flowed through me.

All day, I’d been waiting for this. Suffering through keeping up appearances, pretending to work for the bumbling idiot of a governor. Of course, he was firmly under my control, as was most of the staff. If I were to be successful this life, in this time, I needed to have power in the non-Magical world. The job was a means to an end, nothing more. But it kept me from maintaining contact with Annwyl. That required focus and concentration, and I couldn’t spare more than a few pockets of time through the day. And that wasn’t nearly enough. I needed more. She deserved more.

What Annwyl and I had, what we shared—no one else could understand that. Not Arthur and his followers, not Morgana, even when she was on the right side of the battle, and certainly not fucking Merlin. Even Annwyl didn’t fully understand. How could she? With Merlin in head? Well, this time would be different, because I was the one in her head now. I would have the time I needed with her, the time to show her the truth.

I know she thought I hated her, but my hatred never touched her. It was solely for Arthur and Merlin. I may feel anger at some of her choices—in this life and lives past—and lose myself in that anger, at times, but that was only because I cared too much. I loved her. More than Merlin ever could. It wasn’t a love born out of attraction and sex, but because she and I were of a kind. Underneath it all, Annwyl and I were the same. And it was up to me to make her see that.

I lifted the glass to my lips, thinking of what I’d have to do if I didn’t succeed. I never enjoyed taking her life. It hurt me to do so, and the guilt of failing weighed on me. But it was always a last resort, when it was clear she was too far gone to accept the truth before her. I regretted that her deaths were never easy, but if she couldn’t make the right choice, she needed to be used in a way to further the cause, to send a message to the Circle.

It wasn’t too late, this life, though. I still had time to make her see, to make her understand. I placed my brandy on the end table and settled back in the chair, closing my eyes, reaching out into Annwyl’s mind. Ready to spend some time with her and show her how things truly were. I would do everything in my power to succeed where I’d always failed.

And if she were too far gone, if Merlin and his king had corrupted her completely, I’d do what needed to be done. As painful as it would be, I’d reset things for her and start fresh in the next life.

Head on over and see what these awesome ladies have been inspired to write after listening to “I Will Possess Your Heart”…
Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn CeaseJessica De La Rosa | Kris Norris

March Song Writing Prompt – “The Hammer’s Coming Down”

songprompt3This week’s weeks song is “The Hammer’s Coming Down” by Nickelback. Kris and Paige are so happy about this. 😛

I’d planned on writing more about Aric and Michael, but this song really didn’t lend itself to their story. As I listened to it, I kept thinking of Merlin and Anna from my Albion’s Circle series. Probably because I’m back writing them. I don’t know how well I kept to the song itself, but this was inspired by it… So, I went with it – though I’m sure I’ll be back with my boys soon. 🙂 They’re still talking to me.

So, here is a glimpse into Merlin and Anna’s past – the eve before battle, the very first time they faced Mordred, back in the days of Camelot.

If you want to take a listen before you read… Click Here

The quiet surrounded me as Camelot’s great army slept. I’d been unable to do the same. I’d tried—mostly for Merlin’s sake as he’d fussed at me the night before. And for Arthur and Galahad and the others who kept casting worried glances my way as we’d sat around the campfire. So, I’d retreated into our tent with Merlin and curled up beside him on the fur-covered pallet. Being in his arms had helped—it always helped—but it hadn’t brought me rest.

Frustrated and unable to stop the doubt and fear vibrating inside me, I reluctantly slid from Merlin’s embrace, not wanting to interrupt his sleep. And, even if I lay still as a stone, eventually he would sense my unease. Particularly since controlling my power was becoming more difficult by the minute. The air in the tent teemed with it, and I tried to rein it in as I quickly dressed. With one last look at the man who slept surprisingly peacefully, I slipped outside.

A few men sat around fires throughout the camp—either on watch or, like me, unable to sleep. I paid them no mind and made my way into the trees. I didn’t go far—just far enough to be away from the bustle when everyone began to wake but close enough I’d hear if there was trouble.

I stood in a small glade and stared into the darkness, struggling against tears that welled up, that nearly choked me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I closed my eyes and reached out mentally, letting my magic touch on all the wards and protection spells we’d woven around the encampment. All intact and strong. I sensed each of the men—Magical and non-Magical—on watch around the perimeter. Everything was as it should be, and yet, an uneasy feeling curling around me, squeezing me to the point I couldn’t breath

Morning would soon be upon us, and battle would begin. And I, Camelot’s strongest Seer, saw nothing.

I had tried everything in my power to see what was coming, to glimpse any hint of what the battle would bring. Even going so far as ingesting a complex combination of herbs said to induce visions. That had only succeeded in making me unable to control my magic at all, and had spent an hour vomiting in my chambers as my belongings either shattered or floated around me. The only redeeming thing about that entire experience was no one had been around to witness it.


I sighed as Merlin’s arms came around me, pulling my back against his front. I covered his hands with mine and let my head rest against his shoulder.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, pressing his lips to my temple.

“I can’t see,” I said softly. “I’ve never been so blind to what is ahead.”

“All will be well,” he assured. “This is hardly the first time Camelot has been at war.”

But it was the first time they’d ever faced such a Magical threat led by someone who once claimed friendship and swore loyalty to Arthur and Camelot, someone who’d betrayed them in every way possible.

“I wish you wouldn’t go onto the battlefield,” I whispered, selfishly. I couldn’t shake the feeling something bad was going to happen to him. And being unable able to see…only strengthened that fear. But, while I knew he could provide protection from afar, he never would. It wasn’t who he was.

“My place is by Arthur’s side.”

“Funny, I thought it was by mine,” I snapped, jerking out of his arms and stepping away.


I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, hunching over as I tried to calm down. I felt the comforting touch of Merlin’s magic, twining around me, gliding over my skin.

“Annwyl, please.” Desperation filled his voice, and straightening, I turned around. “I love you, more than anything, you know this.”

“Just as I know you love your king, and you will do everything in your power to protect him.” I closed the distance between us and reached up to cradle his face in my trembling hands. “Forgive me. I’m tired, and not being able to see makes me… I’m uneasy. But I know you need to be with him.”

His hands settled on my hips, fingertips pressing hard. “And I’ll come back to you. Always.”

“I know.” I brushed a thumb over his lips, enjoying the resulting shudder and swell of power.

“Mordred will not win,” he said firmly. “We’ve ensured that by creating the Circle. You ensured it by finding the spell to do so. We’ll stop him, Annwyl. And, after…”

“Yes?” I moved closer, biting back a moan when his hard length pressed against my stomach. “What happens after?”

“After,” he drawled, “we return to Camelot and ignore our friends and our duties for days while I keep you in my tower and show you again and again how much I love you.”

“Bold promises,” I teased.

“I always keep my promises, love.” He dropped a quick kiss on my lips. “Actually, why wait?”

I huffed out a laugh as he let go of my hips and grabbed my hand so he could pull me behind him as he walked.

“Merlin,” I said, trying to keep my voice hushed.

He said nothing as he led me back to camp then into our tent. Once inside, he muttered and the candles inside the space flamed to life. His bright blue gaze seared as he turned toward me.

“We’ve hours yet before the sun rises,” he said slowly. “If you can’t sleep, let’s not waste them.”

I let him tug me back over to the pallet and followed readily as he stretched out on the furs. I shoved aside the fears and uncertainty that still filled my head, anxious to lose myself in him. In the way we came together, the way he made me feel.

But, even as we moved, loved each other, I couldn’t help but feel as if this were the calm before the storm. That, come morning, once the battle began, there was no turning back. Everything was going to change.

Head on over and see what these awesome ladies have been inspired to write after listening to “The Hammer’s Coming Down”…
Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn CeaseJessica De La Rosa | Kayleigh Jones
Kellie St. JamesKris Norris | Paige Prince


February Song Writing Prompt – “Angels of the Silences”

 This week’s song is “Angels of the of the Silences” by Counting Crows. As much as I love this song, it was a tough one to write a piece on. But I did it! 🙂 I actually went back to Michael and Aric – the two men from the first song fic – because it seemed to fit where they were. Particularly these lines…

Why’d you leave me ’till I’m only good for…
Waiting for you
All my sins…
I said that I would pay for them if I could come back to you

So, first, have a listen then see what it all means for Michael and Aric.

He’s falling apart, Aric. He’s lost without you. I’m so worried about him.

“Fuck.” Aric Brewer punched the mattress then rolled over onto his back, every muscle tight, quivering with… Hell if he knew what. There was too much coursing through him. Anger, confusion, grief, yearning… He clenched his fists. He wasn’t going down that road. He wasn’t going to lay here night after night wishing for something he couldn’t have, so he grasped onto something he could deal with. The anger. Oh yeah, that he could do well.

Aric brushed aside the annoyance he felt at Trina for coming to him with her brother’s current problems. After all, she wasn’t the only one who had looked at him with sad eyes and lamented on how the break up had been so hard on Michael.

Christ, he’d just wanted to celebrate his friend’s engagement like a normal person. He didn’t fucking need this. Why was it on him how Michael was doing? Why was that Aric’s problem? He wasn’t the one who broke it off, who threw it all away.

Everyone was so worried about poor Michael falling apart, but he was the one who decided they were done, who pushed Aric away and refused to speak to him. That was on Michael. “Poor Michael” created this fucking mess and could get himself out of it. Aric owed him nothing. He had to pick up the pieces for himself and get on with his life, and Michael would have to do the same. He would have to…

Aric drew in a deep but ragged breath when Michael’s face flashed in his mind for the millionth time that day. His beautiful face that used to make Aric’s heart race, but now…now, just made it ache.

Deflated, Aric got out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. Sleep. He needed sleep and a break from that fucking face. He grabbed the pills his doctor had prescribed a little over a month ago when he’d been desperate for the solid night’s rest that had eluded him since he’d been shoved out the door. He washed two tablets down before returning to his cold, empty bed. He struggled to keep his mind clear as the medication did it work, grasping him tightly and pulling him into the blessed black he sought. But, as he went into the darkness, he couldn’t help but hope that Michael’s continued to be just as cold and just as empty since the day he threw Aric away.

* * * * *

Aric stared up at the house. His house. Their house. He snorted. Michael’s house. That’s what it was now. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. He’d been sitting here, parked on the street, for the last fifteen minutes, attempting to prepare himself for what he was about to do.

Confronting Michael had never been something Aric planned to do. Ever. He’d told himself if wasn’t worth it, that if Michael wanted him out of his life, Aric would oblige. After all, he thought bitterly, he’d never been able deny Michael anything he really wanted.

The decision to do this, now, was entirely selfish. He wanted to be able to tell Trina, to tell them all to back the fuck off of him, because he tried. Not that he was foolish enough to expect anything to change by talking to Michael but he would be able to say he made the effort. Maybe, just maybe, this would bring him a small measure of closure, and he’d be able to move on. And not hurt so much. He really, really wanted to stop hurting so damned much.

Gathering his anger close to him, draping it over the pain like a cloak, he got out of the car and strode determinedly to the house. If he had to take a few deep breaths as he rang the doorbell and stood before the door that had once been his to walk through happily and freely, it wasn’t something he acknowledged.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he waited for Michael to answer. Impatiently, he pushed the bell again and again. He was probably still in bed. Aric nearly smiled as he thought of Michael’s habit of sleeping in whenever possible, catching himself before thinking too fondly of the man who’d broken his heart.

“Should have known you’d—” The door banged against the wall as Michael stood in just inside, gaping at Aric.

“Rise and shine,” Aric said with false cheer as he moved around Michael and made his way inside.

He came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the living room and surveyed the absolute mess that surrounded him. He’d thought Trina had been exaggerating. Truthfully, he’d hoped she’d been exaggerating about just how difficult a time Michael had been doing.

“What are you doing here?” Michael snapped from just inside the room. “Did Trina send you?”

“No, but given the state of this place…” Aric turned to him. It was a struggle to school his expression, because, son of a bitch, the cloak of anger fell away. Dissolved at the sight of Michael—his Michael—so very clearly on the edge. He swallowed and continued, “And the state of you, she should have. Long before now.”

Michael shoved his hands through his black hair, causing the already tousled locks to stand on end. He wouldn’t meet Aric’s eyes, gaze darting around the room, a flush rising on his cheeks.

“Why are you here now?” he asked. “It’s been two months, why now?”

Aric steeled himself, not in defense this time, but because he knew the last thing Michael needed was to be fussed over, babied. He never reacted well to that.

“You no-showed Oliver’s engagement party.” He glanced around the room, brow lifted. “Though it looks like you had a little party of your own, and seems to be a regular occurrence. I wanted to make sure you were all right. None of our friends have seen you recently. Oliver hand only heard from you when you called to bail on him. I was worried.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m alive and fine. So…” Michael waved toward the front door.

“Alive, yes. Fine…” He sighed heavily. “Hardly.”

“You have seen me in months, so you can’t really be the judge of that, can you?”

The hurt in Michael’s voice, in his wide gray eyes, gutted Aric. Nearly brought him to his knees.

“I’m the best judge of that. I know you better than anyone. And right now, sweetheart,” he walked across the room to stand in front of Michael, “you’re a mess.”

Michael’s lips trembled a moment before he pressed them together in a thin line. Aric’s anger rose again, hot and strong, but it wasn’t directed at the man before him. It was all focused back at himself. All this time, he’d been waiting and wondering, waiting on a sign that Michael was moving on—either back toward Aric or to someone else—and wondering how he could have shoved Aric away so thoughtlessly. Waiting and wondering instead of realizing he was the one who needed to do something. He should have known that. Should have seen that Michael was hurting, drowning in his grief.


The word, though whispered, jolted Aric from his thoughts. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t pretend you care.” Michael took a step back, gaze firmly on a point just past Aric’s left shoulder.

“I’m not pretending. I do care. I’ve always cared.”

“You don’t,” he snarled. “If you did, you wouldn’t have—”

He snapped his mouth shut and turned on his heel, practically running down the hallway to their…his bedroom. Aric didn’t hesitate to follow, pushing the door back open before it had a chance to latch. Michael stood, hands braced on the dresser, head hanging low. His shoulders shook as he struggled to breathe. Aric held himself back, denied the urge, the need to go to him.

“I wouldn’t have what?” he demanded.

“Walked away!” Michael shouted, straightening and spinning around. “I know, okay? I know I told you to leave, but you just walked away without a glance back. Like I was worth nothing. Like I wasn’t worth fighting for. You proved him right, Aric.”

The way his voice broke at the end pushed Aric forward, and he grasped the other man’s arms.

“Stop it,” he hissed. “Do not bring him into this. Into us.”

“There’s no us anymore.” Michael’s breath hitched. “And that was the problem. He was always there.”

“No.” Aric shook his head. “You pushed him out when he didn’t accept me, didn’t accept you, but for some reason when he died, you let him back in. And that was the beginning of the end, wasn’t it? Your bastard of a father managed to succeed in death where he failed in life—our relationship effectively died with him.”

“You don’t understand,” Michael whispered.

“You didn’t give me a chance to understand. You shut me out then you kicked me out. I gave you what you wanted. I walked away, but if you think it was without a backward glance, you couldn’t be more wrong.” He released one arm to cup Michael’s face. “I never stopped looking back, sweetheart. You just weren’t paying attention.”

These two are living in my head and will likely be the subject of most if not all of my song fics. I hope you like them as much as I do!

Head on over and see what these awesome ladies have been inspired to write after listening to “Angels of the Silences…
Bronwyn Green | Jessica De La Rosa | Kris Norris

January Song Writing Prompt – “I’m a Mess”


Another new feature. 🙂 Yay. The 3rd Monday of each month, the ladies and I are going to be sharing some more flash fiction – this time, peices inspired by a song.

This week’s song… “I’m A Mess” by Ed Sheeran. I love this song. Have a listen then see what I’ve come up with as a result… 😀

“I’m A Mess”

“Where the fuck were you last night?”

Michael Adams held the phone away from his ear, wincing as pain ricocheted through his skull. Why the hell had he even answered the phone? Early Saturday morning calls? Never a good thing. And as much as Michael loved his sister, listening to her yelling at him—again—was a far cry from how he wanted to spend his morning. At this moment, the only thing he wanted to do was to roll over and sleep it off some more. Clearly, the universe had other plans for him. As it always did.


“No,” she said loudly. “This has gone on too fucking long, Mikey. You need to…”

“What? I need to what, exactly? Snap out of it? Pull myself up by the bootstraps, slap on a smile and pretend everything is all good in the world? Sorry, not happening.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, frowning at the scrape of scruff against his palm. “I’m fine.”

“The fuck you are.”

He sighed. “You need to expand your vocabulary.”

“I’ll expand my fucking vocabulary when you get out of the fucking house for something other than fucking work and start living your fucking life again.”

“Such a lady,” he drawled.

“You didn’t show up for your best friend’s engagement party,” she said, uncharacteristically quiet. “So saying you’re fine isn’t going to fly.”

“I talked to Oliver.” Michael tried to keep his tone firm and even, but his voice just came out scratchy and weak. “He said he understood. That’s all that really matters.”

“Of course he said that! Everyone is so fucking scared of saying anything that will push you over the edge. No one knows how to talk to you because you’ve shut us all out!”

“Not very effectively since I have you shrieking in my ear on a regular basis,” he muttered.

“Yeah, and you can expect that to continue, you fucking ass. Unlike the friendships you are effectively destroying with your behavior, it will take a hell of a lot more to drive me away. And just think about that, Mikey,” she warned. “Keep this up, and I’ll be all you have. Is that really what you want?”

He snorted, ignoring how his chest tightened. “What I want? Pretty much given up on that.”

“Why?” she yelled. “Why shouldn’t you have what you want? Fuck, you had it already. You had it, and you threw it away! Dad’s gone. Why are you letting him have any power over you now when you didn’t when he was alive?”

“I’m not going to argue about this again.” He knew where this was headed, and he needed to stop it before—

“That’s the problem; you don’t argue.” She laughed bitterly. “You go to work, you come home and drink and then you go to bed, just to wake and do it all over again. You listen to me bitch and you mope around and wallow.”

“Didn’t your therapist ever tell you that people grieve in their own way?”

“This isn’t fucking grie—” She stopped short and he heard her take a deep breath. “Are you even going to ask about him? He was there last night. But, of course, you know that.”

And there it was. Michael swallowed heavily, and his eyes burned behind his closed lids.

“How is he?” he whispered then inwardly cringed.

He hadn’t meant to ask. He didn’t want to know… Shit, he was no better at lying to himself than he had been two months before when he’d told Aric to get the hell out of his life. And his loving and devoted boyfriend had walked away without a second glance, because Michael had said it was what he wanted. His skills at lying convincingly to others were obviously far superior to his ability to delude himself. Despite his best efforts.

“He looked good,” she said quietly then added, “But, Mikey, he looked so sad, too. Especially when…when he asked about you.”

“I wouldn’t read too much into that.” He swallowed heavily, gulping down the surge of hope that rose. “Everyone gets a little sad when they think about their exes.”

“It’s more than that, and you know it.”

The muscles of his jaw twitched when he clenched his teeth. “And who was on his arm, Trina? I’ve never known Aric to show up anywhere all by his lonesome.”

“No one.” When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “I didn’t see him when he got there, all right? And he…mingled all night. And talked to a lot of people.”

“A lot of good looking guys.”

Her breath hitched. “Oh, Mikey.”

“I’m going to go.”

“Just call him.”

“I’ve told you already there’s no point. It’s over.”

“Christ, you’re stubborn.” Triina laughed harshly.

“Says the woman who calls every single day to rip me a new one. Guessing it’s hereditary, sister mine.” He stretched his free arm over his head. “And I’m hanging up, now.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Of course you will.” He smiled…an actual genuine smile. Trina was one thing he could count on, even if it was in the form of nagging phone calls most of the time. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she returned. “Please, think about what I said. Call him.”

“Good-bye, Trina.”

Ending the call, he tossed the phone off the side of the bed then rolled over to bury his face in the pillow on the other side of the bed. Aric’s side of the bed.

“Fuck,” he muttered, punching the mattress several times before turning to the side and going limp.

Closing his eyes against the banging in his head, he tried to push all thoughts of the last two months, of Aric, of being without Aric from his mind. Yet as Michael drifted off, he saw only one face.

He woke to the sound of the doorbell, repeatedly chiming, and the pain in his head still strong as ever. He climbed out of bed and padded through the house, grumbling and squinting against the sunlight streaming through every damned window. He needed to remember to shut the fucking curtains at night.

He inwardly cursed his sister as he unlocked the front door. She never knew when to leave well enough alone and had probably gotten it in her head that he was starving without her sweet—read annoying—sibling attention. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d shown up on his doorstep with a bag of food and a frown.

“Should have known you’d—”

The door banged against the wall as he let go of the knob in shock.

“Rise and shine,” Aric announced, pushing past Michael into the house.

It took him a moment, but Michael quickly shut the door and rushed after his ex, finding the other man standing in the middle of the living room, looking around with a look of disgust on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Michael demanded. “Did Trina send you?”

“No, but given the state of this place…” Aric turned and ran his gaze over Michael. “And the state of you, she should have. Long before now.”

Running his hand through his hair, knowing it was already sticking up wildly, Michael looked everywhere but at Alric. Which was a mistake because he saw exactly what his ex was seeing—empty bottles and takeout containers littering every surface, unwashed laundry piled up, and the basic evidence of a man who just didn’t give a fuck anymore. Everything Michael had been valiantly trying to ignore for some time.

“Why are you here?” he bit out. “It’s been two months; why now?”

“You no-showed Oliver’s engagement party.” He glanced around again. “Though it looks like you had a little party of your own, and it seems to be a regular occurrence. I wanted to make sure you were all right. None of our friends have seen you recently. Oliver had only heard from you when you called to bail on him. I was worried.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m alive and fine. So…” Michael gestured toward the front door.

“Alive, yes. Fine…” He sighed and shook his head. “Hardly.”

“You haven’t seen me in months, so you can’t really be the judge of that, can you?”

Aric’s expression softened, and Michael’s stomach clenched at the sight of those gorgeous green eyes looking at him with…affection?

“I’m the best judge of that. I know you better than anyone. And right now, sweetheart,” he stepped forward, “you’re a mess.”

Head on over and see what these awesome ladies have been inspired to write after listening to Mr. Sheeran singing about being a mess…
Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn Cease | Jenny Trout | Jessica De La Rosa | Kris Norris