The Corsair's Crown is being rewritten.

Details can be found on the blog (google iceramyst, livejournal.) If you are on an internet source that doesn't allow you to view blogs, the very quick version is that this story was diverting so far from what I had intended that I can't write an ending as it currently stands.

However, don't despair: the revisions are already well underway, and the newly written first chapter should be up in a few minutes if it's not there already. Just click on my author's account name at the top of the page—the new story is cleverly called "The Corsair's Crown!" Since I am determined to finish this story, and to move onto the third book besides, I am taking the time to stop now and rewrite so I can do this. This will mean a happier me, and a better finished product for you; it's not a sign that I'm giving up!

This version of TCC will remain online until the other one is caught up. This is so that you can read it if you want to in the meanwhile, and for the process of critique. I've noticed that readers of this story (all of you are wonderful!) tend to be the type who like offering solid editorial critiques. If you would like to make critiques directly comparing the old version with the new, or talk about overarching themes or any larger topic, I strongly suggest leaving your comment on the blog instead—that way, I can comment back and other people can too! Of course, there's no pressure to do this and you can feel free to leave normal sorts of comments on the new story. I'm going to need the encouragement!

Also, for those of you that have left comments in the past saying that you'd like to help but you're unsure of your ability to be an editor, I'd like to offer this as a chance for a learning experience: leave a critiquing comment on the blog with a mention towards improving, and I'll give you suggestions as to how to phrase your advice, balance positive and negative reinforcement, or reach for a deeper level in what you're reading, while at the same time respecting and considering the content of your critique. I've seen people who genuinely want to be helpful but have trouble expressing themselves in a way that doesn't end in hurt feelings all around, or who have good ideas but get laughed out because of the way they're worded, so if you want to work on critiquing in a patient teaching environment, here's your chance!

I hope you'll continue to stay with The Corsair's Crown during this time, and thank you for your patience while I work out the problems with this story. I am determined to finish it and I thank you for any help you might be able to give during this process.

Reminder: because the story is being rewritten, no further chapters will be added to this instance of the story. To keep up with the latest chapters, please change your bookmarks to the new file for The Corsair's Crown, which is located under my penname.

And lastly, so I'm not violating FP rules, here's a deleted scene for you—a different meeting with Toriza. and a fitting one I feel:

"They met under the cover of darkness, as the rained turned the soil underfoot to mud. She brought the prisoner in chains to his ransomer. Bitter foes, they were, but bound by duty to behave, if not to be civil. The gold was handed over with greatest grudge."

"As she released the chains, the princess explained her plan. She could not free the other prisoners within the castle walls, not without drawing her parents' ire, nor could she openly allow their soldiers to take refuged in her lands; indeed, they were forced to keep the pretense of besieging her walls merely to stay in the territory. But, she said, if she were to wed into the most powerful family in the enemy's kingdom, her family might be willing to make treaty."

"That can't be right," Toriza interrupts Alim, tapping his chalk against the tablet as he frowns. "Mere marriage wouldn't begin that process, not for nations at war. An heir that they could mutually appoint would be necessary for such a treaty. Are you sure that is what the servant said?"

Alim and I exchange a quick look, a bit taken aback. "Well... I believe that is how it went," my friend says slowly. "Perhaps the princess was not aware of this matter, due to her upbringing."

"Ah." The singer jots down another note, sets the slate aside onto the growing pile and takes up another. "But this enemy, the former prisoner, he would know, surely."

"The prisoner was—distracted. Torn. He had a dear, secret lover, you see. But he had always been taught to put his kingdom first, and so he proposed a different plan—if he could find an army to fight for him, then the war would be won and there would be no need to wed; but if he could not, or was defeated, then he would give up his lover."

"Of course he picked that plan," Toriza growls bitterly, and there's a few, twitchy moments where we wait to see if he's figured everything out. "Our people are far too quick to go to war. But to condemn hundreds to death just for the sake of one lover—it just isn't realistic. Why would he possibly think that was a equal trade?"

Now I just feel uncomfortable and a whole heap of embarrassed. As Alim hems and haws, trying out a few vague explanations, I take a breath and say, "Didn't you say once that the servant said they were, what's it called, matched? Or bonded, something like that."

"Ah, yes," the doctor drawls, "that was it. He had a focus, but because he had so many enemies, he wished to keep the bond a secret to spare both of their lives. He feared that if he told the princess why he stalled, all would be revealed."

"Bonded." Toriza stares down at the tablet, running a fingers in circles at his temple. "This just keeps getting more complicated."

"Complicated enough to make a good song?" I suggest hopefully.

"Not yet. I have to know what happens. So this prisoner, does he find his army?"

"That was all I heard. My favor was to tell a story, not to make up the parts I didn't know." Alim watches him with hooded eyes. "You're the singer, aren't you? What would be a fitting end?"

"Well..." Toriza leaps to his feet, pacing behind the chairs with his tangle hair aflutter behind him. It's an action I know well, and it makes me feel all kinds of strange, to see it reflected so clearly in Paraz's son. "If it was naught but a story, then the war would have ended. But if it is true, then life is never so simple. Her parents might have found out and had her imprisoned again before the marriage ever took place. Which to use..."

I stir, stretching out muscles that have gone stiff in the chair. "Could be something else altogether," I suggest. "Might be that another army shows up and defeats her parents, and she doesn't have to get married at all."

He flicks my words away with a graceful gesture. "No. If her sacrifice is for naught... it would be too tragic. Sometimes a singer wishes to take an audience for tears, but there has been plenty of that this competition, and it wearies the heart. Sometimes a story has to end well."

Alim drawls, not bothering to avoid dryness this time, "Then make it end well."