Fic: Three other 3SF fills for 2026
May. 24th, 2026 02:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shallownessAll original fiction. Anything over 100 words long will also be posted at AO3. I think this is it for my 2026 fills. I'll post about them all at some point.
Picking the future. Original fic, OFC. 83 words. PG. Written for the prompt ‘Any; Any; 5 pasts, 1 future’ at the Three Sentence Ficathon 2026.
She still remembers the code, punches it in, takes out the nondescript black rucksack, and closes the locker. Thirteen hours later, in a hotel room that screams ‘affordably anonymous’, she’s emptying the rucksack, half a dozen passports falling out onto the table before her. She’s used four, and the French one was issued by her former employers, so they’re useless, but she snuck in a back-up, and that’s the one that she picks up now, learning a new name for a new life.
In candlelight. Original fic, OFC/OMC. 106 words. Universal. Written for the prompt ‘any. any/any. in candlelight.’ at the Three Sentence Ficathon 2026.
After it becomes clear that the electricity is off for a while, he uses his phone to find the candles - and she's glad now that he took stock of everything in this cabin they'd rented, even if it irritated her then, as so much of his Boy Scout instincts have done - and light them. He then makes a point of switching the phone back off, because it was part of their agreement for this holiday. "You look good in the candlelight," she says, because it's true, and he looks just as good stepping towards her, reaching out for her, a smile on his face.
King’s Daughter. Original fic, OCs. 308 words. Teen. Written for the prompt ‘any, any, king's daughter.’ at the Three Sentence Ficathon 2026. Triple fill. Caveat lector.
The king had three children, and when his eldest son and heir fell from a horse and the doctors said the bones in the leg and back would never heal right, he grieved, for to his mind, the king’s men should be able to believe that their monarch would ride out with them to battle. Unwisely, the king looked to his second-born son, and took him with him when he visited the king’s men, kept him by his side while he talked to his advisers, until they began to forget he was not the heir and assumed he would wear the crown next. The youngest child was but a girl, as pretty as the mother who had borne her had been, quiet, well-behaved and sure to marry well. She did not give up on her big brother, even when he was brusque, for she saw that his face was lined with pain, and she knew that she was a poor substitute for their father’s love.
But the eldest son turned pain into iron, in bitterness, so that when the king fell, and his brother reached for the crown, he challenged him with a ringing voice. The two brothers took up swords and the younger was surprised to find that the brother who had so long been dismissed as a cripple was not easy to defeat. He tired first, and the able-bodied prince delivered a killing blow, but as he did so, he realised that his brother had delivered his own. Their duel ended, as did their lives, and the court was silent in disbelief, until the king's daughter stepped forward, no longer a child, no longer a girl, dressed in pure, unbloodied white. "There shall be peace under my reign," she declared, her face beautiful and awesome in its determination, and all kneeled as she took the crown.
Picking the future. Original fic, OFC. 83 words. PG. Written for the prompt ‘Any; Any; 5 pasts, 1 future’ at the Three Sentence Ficathon 2026.
She still remembers the code, punches it in, takes out the nondescript black rucksack, and closes the locker. Thirteen hours later, in a hotel room that screams ‘affordably anonymous’, she’s emptying the rucksack, half a dozen passports falling out onto the table before her. She’s used four, and the French one was issued by her former employers, so they’re useless, but she snuck in a back-up, and that’s the one that she picks up now, learning a new name for a new life.
In candlelight. Original fic, OFC/OMC. 106 words. Universal. Written for the prompt ‘any. any/any. in candlelight.’ at the Three Sentence Ficathon 2026.
After it becomes clear that the electricity is off for a while, he uses his phone to find the candles - and she's glad now that he took stock of everything in this cabin they'd rented, even if it irritated her then, as so much of his Boy Scout instincts have done - and light them. He then makes a point of switching the phone back off, because it was part of their agreement for this holiday. "You look good in the candlelight," she says, because it's true, and he looks just as good stepping towards her, reaching out for her, a smile on his face.
King’s Daughter. Original fic, OCs. 308 words. Teen. Written for the prompt ‘any, any, king's daughter.’ at the Three Sentence Ficathon 2026. Triple fill. Caveat lector.
The king had three children, and when his eldest son and heir fell from a horse and the doctors said the bones in the leg and back would never heal right, he grieved, for to his mind, the king’s men should be able to believe that their monarch would ride out with them to battle. Unwisely, the king looked to his second-born son, and took him with him when he visited the king’s men, kept him by his side while he talked to his advisers, until they began to forget he was not the heir and assumed he would wear the crown next. The youngest child was but a girl, as pretty as the mother who had borne her had been, quiet, well-behaved and sure to marry well. She did not give up on her big brother, even when he was brusque, for she saw that his face was lined with pain, and she knew that she was a poor substitute for their father’s love.
But the eldest son turned pain into iron, in bitterness, so that when the king fell, and his brother reached for the crown, he challenged him with a ringing voice. The two brothers took up swords and the younger was surprised to find that the brother who had so long been dismissed as a cripple was not easy to defeat. He tired first, and the able-bodied prince delivered a killing blow, but as he did so, he realised that his brother had delivered his own. Their duel ended, as did their lives, and the court was silent in disbelief, until the king's daughter stepped forward, no longer a child, no longer a girl, dressed in pure, unbloodied white. "There shall be peace under my reign," she declared, her face beautiful and awesome in its determination, and all kneeled as she took the crown.
