All Chapters of The Villain's Hero: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Story is the lifeblood of our people. Story teaches. Story cautions. But sometimes stories are just stories, and life takes another, unexpected path. The wily Fae may have honor, the fearsome dragon a tender heart, the dainty princess the bravery of a King, and an unfaithful lover might love most of all… Stories teach us, but they also mislead us. Not all heroes carry swords, and not all villains have evil intentions. Story is, after all, just words. And words do not have the weight of action. - “Concentrate,” I whispered the words. “Concentration and focus are key.” On the walkways around the walls, King Akyran’s dark elf guards did their rounds, their footfalls armour-heavy, and the plumes of their helmets casting dramatic shadows over the courtyard. The sky overhead was greying with cloud, and the heady perfume of the petrichor released by the earth in promise of rain was sweeter than the other scents of the courtyard – the sweat of the knights in training, the leather, the ho

All the newer students lined up in the courtyard for drills. As I took my place, I saw Aien in the row ahead of me. He glanced around, looking for someone or something, perhaps a friendly face amongst the crowd, and his eyes fell on me. He stepped backwards, to stand at my side.“What is this?” He asked me. “Is this meant to be a sword?” He looked at the wooden practise sword that he held in one hand.“Drills,” I told him. “As training goes, this one isn’t so bad, as long as you stick to the middle and try not to stand out. The sword master will lead us through the poses and postures,” I nodded up to the raised platform. “We just copy her.”“Why do I suspect that it’s not as easy as you make it sound?” He wondered.“Because…” I lifted my chin to the wall where the dark elf guards had gathered to watch. “And…” I inclined my head to the base of the wall, where the senior knights were gathering. “They’re meant to be practicing hand to hand combat, but… They mostly watch. And mock us.”“G

“My father wasn’t always this way,” Aien said as we walked through the maze following the trail of debris, blood, and broken weaponry. “A villain I mean. Things were different when my mother was alive. She was…” He paused where someone had smashed a statue, the stone rubble scattered across the path and offered me his hand. “Be careful where you step. My mother was beautiful,” he did not immediately release my hand when I had picked my way through the debris and stood looking down at me thoughtfully.“She was kind,” he said softly. My eyes fell to the softness of his lips and wondered what they would feel against my own. “And she looked after others. She would have liked you. You remind me of her.” He released my hand and continued along the walkway. “An illness came to the village, and my mother went to help the sick. She caught it from them, and… I was eleven,” he swallowed hard. “Old enough that I remember very well what it was like before she died.”“I’m sorry,” I said reaching ou

I woke into the greyness of dawn as Aien eased out of my arms, leaving a cold patch across my skin as he slid out of the bedclothes. He tucked the blankets back around me considerately seeking to shelter me from the changing temperature caused by his body withdrawing from mine.He dressed in the shirt that he had cast off and crept across the room to the door, slipping out and closing it behind him.For a moment I lay in the hollow left in his departure, trying to deny its meaning, and then it caught me in the ribs, and I curled onto my side, the heels of my hands pressed to my mouth as I pressed it back, but the feeling undeniable.Aien had left my bed before dawn. He had left before discovery was a possibility. He was hiding that he had been there at all.Very well, I told myself shaking my head and trying to cast away the burn of shame and pain. That was understandable. We were in a difficult situation. I was the second daughter of a dragon, after all, and the fifth in line for the

Rapunzel emerged from the curtained bed slowly, sliding until she sat on the end of the mattress, her elegant gown rumpled and gathered around her, showing that her feet were bare. “I am a prisoner here,” she told us with wide eyed earnestness. “And have been since the first year of my life.“This is my family home. My father was a landed gentleman with a small farm. Nothing extraordinary, but enough to support his family in comfort. However, my mother became sick, and in desperation, he sought out a renowned witch who lived within Nerith, by the name of Gerveine, who was known to have a magic potion that could cure all ills made of a rare flower.“Gerveine granted his wish, and made him a potion, but in exchange for me,” Rapunzel touched her fingertips to her hair. “As, when I was born, my fairy godmother blessed me with magical hair capable of sewing any wound closed as if it never existed. Gerveine takes a few strands every time she visits, which she sells to kings and heroes headi