Bella cackles. I'm not adopting everything in sight! Just the very small number of therapy patients on hand, and reinventing wizardry, and dispensing useful nonhorrible ideas from my plane, and trying to socialize the adorable self-insert-fanfiction-writing child!

I am impressed that your world has a name for the genre of story that includes 'the toddler author appears in another world'.

It's not specific to toddlers. Or other worlds, exactly. You can write self-insert fanfiction if you're anybody - particularly if you are a teenage girl - and about anything, including perfectly dull stories about an ensemble cast who work at a café or something. It is stereotypically really badly written and put up for free on the ethernet instead of published in book form.

Well, perhaps here it'll be a high-status occupation, since the crown prince does it.

Maybe. It might depend on how good a storyteller he is.

Shall we check? And he knocks.

Bella giggles.

Fëanáro is, indeed, writing. Astonishingly neatly, trying very hard to copy the writing in her textbook, which is lying open beside him.

"Hi. Can I read over your shoulder?"

"Yes, definitely. You can tell me which details are wrong for the next draft."

So he'll take editing well, huh? Peer.

"Where are you going to land?" she murmurs. This is not teenage girl on the ethernet. It's not something she'd expect to see in a bookstore, either, but not because it's not good, it's just not - bookstore-y.

"In the middle of the war in your history books," he says, "that lasted forty years and was awful and it uses so many words I don't know but I think they're all words for bad things. I don't know if you were there but you're going to have to be there, to help me figure out how to fix it."

"Uh, I wasn't there. I've never been in or even very near a war and I haven't read that history book yet. Maybe you should just pop out in Emily, that seems more like the sort of thing that might happen and I can tell you all about Emily."

"What's Emily like?"

"Emily's a building! She woke up one day, I don't know how, it's not very common, and now she's an alive building with a mind and everything; she's very friendly and she can move bits of her architecture around and helps people find their classes and not have to wait in line for the bathroom and stuff. I like her a lot. Anyway, she rearranges a lot and can have as many doors as she likes, and while I wouldn't expect lost Eldar to come wandering out of her every week she's definitely one of the likelier places if you're going to do it at all. I'd just - I'd just gone left past her when I went into the building where I had my accident."

"Oh, perfect, so it's like symmetrical with the real story. E - M - I - L - E?"

"E - M - I - L - Y."

And he starts painstakingly writing.

"I thought it was really carefully done," he says. "I can be that neat, it's just slow. How's it done with magic?"

"I don't know, I haven't reinvented wizardry yet."

"Oooh," he says, sitting up, "can I help?"

"...It would, probably, actually be faster to take you up through the just-past-high-school wizardry I've got and have a second brain on the problem than to try to do it myself," she acknowledges. "But you have to be really careful. A lot of spells are dangerous and since I can't go get them out of books they might be dangerous even if they're not supposed to be."