I read Sabriel when I was like 12. And didn't discover it was part of a trilogy til I was 26. Sigh.
The Old Kingdom Trilogy
Under the Watchful Eye of an Unreliable Narrator
Lirael, Sabriel, Mogget
Written for comment_fic
Posted here.
Prompt: Lirael and/or Sabriel, learning of the Abhorsens before them. Bonus points for snarky Mogget and tales of hilarity.
715 words
Lirael flexed her new golden hand with a bit of a grimace, even as she marveled at Sameth's handiwork; there was no doubt she was now the wielder of the finest bit of craftsmanship to exist through both the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre. But she still would have given it up and more to have the Disreputable Dog back by her side.
"It must still take some adjustment," Sabriel commented, her lips curved into a sympathetic smile, "We can put off training for a little while. You're already more capable than I was with much less guidance."
Lirael shook her head, "But you're still here, at least. I'm grateful for that. I can't imagine..." and she trailed off, not knowing what to say about the previous Abhorsen, their father.
With a bit of a sigh, Sabriel moved closer to her half-sister, looping an arm around her shoulders and pressing her face close so they were cheek-to-cheek. "He did his best by me while still carrying out his duties. He would have loved you, of that I'm sure. Here, let's have some of the sendings bring us tea and we can enjoy the good weather in the garden for the moment."
Before the older woman had even finished speaking, the shining, flickering gray shapes of the sendings had already turned towards the kitchens to fetch what was sure to be a delicious spread of food.
"I hope they bother to remember me," a sarcastic voice piped up at her feet, and Lirael looked down to see Mogget trotting alongside, the sunlight making the fine veins of his ears more pronounced as the white cat jumped up and settled around Sabriel's shoulders. "I heard you talking about Terciel. He was pretty decent as an Abhorsen if a bit foolish for taking on more than he could chew."
"Hush, Mogget," said Sabriel absentmindedly as she sought out the little table and chairs in the garden, "Though I suppose speaking ill of the dead is not a habit you'll break easily."
The white cat only flicked an ear peevishly in reply.
Lirael sat down gratefully at the table, unbuckling her bandoleer of bells and stretching her body that suddenly felt so much lighter without it. "You saw all the previous Abhorsens in Death, didn't you?" she asked Sabriel with curiosity, "What were they like?"
"It was only a glimpse," Sabriel murmured softly, almost to herself, propping up her chin on one hand and gazing ponderously at the Abhorsen’s house with its tall tower.
“The large one with thinning hair and an unattractive attempt at a beard was Kalliel,” was Mogget’s comment as he gamely scratched at his ear, “Of course I could be remembering wrong, seeing as the only time I saw him was when he locked me up. Can’t have been too bright anyway if he dug that well.”
“Mogget...” Lirael almost groaned, “That’s not what I meant at all--!”
“And let’s see, Filarael was skinny and all angles except for her hair. Bushy as anything and always in my way when I sat on her shoulder! She lost her mind completely and whistled a tune in the Paperwing one day that pretty much landed us in the sea,” his tail twitched irritably at the memory, “and she had the gall to laugh at me. Utterly ridiculous!”
The side of Sabriel’s mouth twitched slightly in amusement.
“I couldn’t forget Brioniel if I tried. She was the one who made those aggravating sendings that try to bathe me. Pity she didn’t give them enough speed or wits to catch me though, ha! Then there was Hendriel who was never overly blessed with brains, though he had plenty of brawn. Couldn’t even keep most of his Charter marks straight and almost muddled up which bells to use when in a tight spot. But the worst of the worst was definitely--”
“Oh Mogget, that’s enough,” Sabriel said mildly as the sendings brought out steaming cups of milky tea, light sandwiches, and a raw filet of fish for Mogget, “You’ll soon have us afraid to say or do anything in anticipation of what fearful tales you’ll pass down to future Abhorsens.”
Mogget only snorted lightly before digging in to his fish, “As if I didn’t have enough to go on already.”
Under the Watchful Eye of an Unreliable Narrator
Lirael, Sabriel, Mogget
Written for comment_fic
Posted here.
Prompt: Lirael and/or Sabriel, learning of the Abhorsens before them. Bonus points for snarky Mogget and tales of hilarity.
715 words
Lirael flexed her new golden hand with a bit of a grimace, even as she marveled at Sameth's handiwork; there was no doubt she was now the wielder of the finest bit of craftsmanship to exist through both the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre. But she still would have given it up and more to have the Disreputable Dog back by her side.
"It must still take some adjustment," Sabriel commented, her lips curved into a sympathetic smile, "We can put off training for a little while. You're already more capable than I was with much less guidance."
Lirael shook her head, "But you're still here, at least. I'm grateful for that. I can't imagine..." and she trailed off, not knowing what to say about the previous Abhorsen, their father.
With a bit of a sigh, Sabriel moved closer to her half-sister, looping an arm around her shoulders and pressing her face close so they were cheek-to-cheek. "He did his best by me while still carrying out his duties. He would have loved you, of that I'm sure. Here, let's have some of the sendings bring us tea and we can enjoy the good weather in the garden for the moment."
Before the older woman had even finished speaking, the shining, flickering gray shapes of the sendings had already turned towards the kitchens to fetch what was sure to be a delicious spread of food.
"I hope they bother to remember me," a sarcastic voice piped up at her feet, and Lirael looked down to see Mogget trotting alongside, the sunlight making the fine veins of his ears more pronounced as the white cat jumped up and settled around Sabriel's shoulders. "I heard you talking about Terciel. He was pretty decent as an Abhorsen if a bit foolish for taking on more than he could chew."
"Hush, Mogget," said Sabriel absentmindedly as she sought out the little table and chairs in the garden, "Though I suppose speaking ill of the dead is not a habit you'll break easily."
The white cat only flicked an ear peevishly in reply.
Lirael sat down gratefully at the table, unbuckling her bandoleer of bells and stretching her body that suddenly felt so much lighter without it. "You saw all the previous Abhorsens in Death, didn't you?" she asked Sabriel with curiosity, "What were they like?"
"It was only a glimpse," Sabriel murmured softly, almost to herself, propping up her chin on one hand and gazing ponderously at the Abhorsen’s house with its tall tower.
“The large one with thinning hair and an unattractive attempt at a beard was Kalliel,” was Mogget’s comment as he gamely scratched at his ear, “Of course I could be remembering wrong, seeing as the only time I saw him was when he locked me up. Can’t have been too bright anyway if he dug that well.”
“Mogget...” Lirael almost groaned, “That’s not what I meant at all--!”
“And let’s see, Filarael was skinny and all angles except for her hair. Bushy as anything and always in my way when I sat on her shoulder! She lost her mind completely and whistled a tune in the Paperwing one day that pretty much landed us in the sea,” his tail twitched irritably at the memory, “and she had the gall to laugh at me. Utterly ridiculous!”
The side of Sabriel’s mouth twitched slightly in amusement.
“I couldn’t forget Brioniel if I tried. She was the one who made those aggravating sendings that try to bathe me. Pity she didn’t give them enough speed or wits to catch me though, ha! Then there was Hendriel who was never overly blessed with brains, though he had plenty of brawn. Couldn’t even keep most of his Charter marks straight and almost muddled up which bells to use when in a tight spot. But the worst of the worst was definitely--”
“Oh Mogget, that’s enough,” Sabriel said mildly as the sendings brought out steaming cups of milky tea, light sandwiches, and a raw filet of fish for Mogget, “You’ll soon have us afraid to say or do anything in anticipation of what fearful tales you’ll pass down to future Abhorsens.”
Mogget only snorted lightly before digging in to his fish, “As if I didn’t have enough to go on already.”