#✶ SHE WAS FORGED IN FLAME & FURY / character study

[littledxves]

tag dump ! isaline & apolline.

[hypexion]

A Pile of Fanwalkers (Part 2)

Part two of me posting a bunch of “OCs“, since actually working out a better way to organise and present is this information is clearly too much effort. Despite the fact I’m putting what could be charitably described as an amount of work into these posts.

The basic format for each planeswalker will be a Name/Colour Identity/Pre-Ignition Typeline/Homeplane blob of information, a quickish description of them and some “fun“ facts, and then some hits and misses for extra flavour. Also, I’m going to split this into three posts - “Heroic“, “Okay“ and “Villians“, for I believe I have the moral authority to judge my creations.

Also some of these are going to be from fanplanes, which will go undescribed beyond whatever tidbits come out the character flavour. Others will just have a ?, representing a lack of knowledge and/or sufficent worldbuilding. With that out of the way, let’s go!

Okay

Not everyone is actively Heroic, and that’s okay. Generally, this lot might not want to help you out, but they’re unlikely to ruin your day just for the sake of it. Of course, some might offer to help if their skills are a match for the situation, or if they stand to benefit. And some of them might be a little rude, but they generally won’t murder you.

Ferroxi - BGU, Faerie Artificer, ? - While other fae are luring you around in circles, trapping you in an eternal sleep, or stealing your name, Ferroxi is probably rummaging through your recycling looking for useful stuff. Born on a plane piled with interplanar scrap, she learned at a young age the value in taking things apart and occationally putting them back together again. Ferroxi sees the wastefulness of other planes as her gain, and is always on the look out for anything that can be fixed up, melted down or repurposed. This doesn’t stop at the physical, either. With a bit of work, she’s managed to keep a few Infinite Consortium cells spinning, as a way to provided access to resources she’d otherwise have trouble obtaining. Ultimately, Ferroxi brings her finds back to her clan, where she is considered a peerless salvager, able to seemingly conjure resources from nothing.

Ferroxi has hair she self-describes as “rust coloured“ and brown skin. Being a Faerie, she’s just over a foot tall. But don’t underestimate her. Just because her weapon of choice looks like a sewing needle, it doesn’t mean it can’t hurt you. Of course, she also has access to all the various fae tricks, so getting into a fight with her is generally going to end her favour. Just let Ferroxi have your old lightbulbs, okay? When she planeswalkers, she disappears into a puff of rust dust. Don’t breath that! (Generally you shouldn’t breath planeswalking auras, but the metal oxides to be especially avoided.)

Hits: Recycling, Izzet technology, Moxen, white and gold bordered cards. Misses: Izzet security, large animals, things that can’t be repaired or reused.

Mazamat - UB, Human Wizard, Akkyria - For Mazamat, death is merely a setback. After each defeat she rises again, a new body forged from mana in her ziggurat. As a mortal scholar, her fame was not enough to enjoy the immortality Akkyria offered it’s most renowned. So through careful research, she discovered an alternative, a way to tie her life force to the leylines that shaped her world. She divised a ritual, and performed it to perfection. And in seeking eternal life, she found something far greater. For Mazamat was born long before The Mending. Her ignition gave her powers beyond bound. Even with a fractional of her strength sequestered as an anchor for her soul, Mazamat was a force to be reckoned with. She mastered lifetimes of magics, slew gods, and accidentally created a few highly dangerous artifacts. Unfortunately, even without meeting Urza, Mazamat was affect by his ruinous influence. The Mending weakened her. Enough that it was now the majority of her strength that anchored her to Akkyria. This made planewalking fatal. But for Mazamat, death is merely a setback. No Lich forgets their Phylactery, and Mazamat did not forget the mechanics of her undeath. While the first sucessful test walk only worked because of the Interplanar Beacon, it provided Mazamat all she needed to write a new ritual, and continue her endless study.

Often, Mazamat isn’t hard to miss. It’s difficult to ignore the walking corpse with glowing purple eyes, even you’d prefer to. She could put more effort into looking presentable, given her wide magical knowledge, but generally considers it optional. When she does wish to tidy up her appearance, she tends to appear as she did in the middle of her mortal life. In this case, she has brown skin and grey-black hair, which she ties back into a bun to get it out of the way. She also dampens the eye-glow effect, although they still take on a purple hue. Mazamat tends to dress in the classical “Robed Wizard“ look, ardorned with various magical symbols. Mazamat’s planeswalking effet is a pulse of pale blue light, occationally leaving behind short-lived inscriptions on nearby surfaces.

Hits: Mastering skills, advising adventurers (who bring the appropriate tribute), a kind of savory cake served with honey and dried fruits. Misses: Dying (it’s still not fun, even if you come back), Nicol Bolas, Urza, whoever started the rumor that flying snakes could be found near her ziggurat, because now she can’t get rid of the things, being stuck on a plane.

Pyrolas - R, Dragon, Ithmorne - Many planeswalkers are subtle. Many are careful. Pyrolas is neither, because Pyrolas is a red dragon. When presented with a problem, they consider fire and fury to be an acceptable solution. As dragons go, Pyrolas is considered implusive and quick to act. This is good for the non-dragons living with their domain, as it means Pyrolas tends to deal with problems such as bandits within a week. Meaning you might actually have a home to go back to. Pyrolas is also less than interested in the ever-shifting politics of the Draconic Confedracy, prefering to get their excitement from visting other planes, or comissioning sweet new artworks. Like many dragons on their homeplane, Pyrolas graciously allows non-dragons to use the singular they when referring to them. This is nice, because in Ithmorne Draconic, pronouns are also honorifics, and using the wrong one can range from “slightly rude“ to “mortal insult“ (it’s also nice because some of them are very hard to pronounce if you aren’t a dragon).

Dragons on Ithmorne tend towards being more slender, and Pyrolas is no exception. However, unlike a certain dragon whose name has been misplaced, they all still look dragony. Pyrolas has red scales, except on the underside of their wings, where they are a more goldish colour. Since they’re a dragon, they don’t carry weapons. Rather, Pyrolas is the weapon, capable of spewing flame, clawing rocks to pieces and able to crush puny humanoids in their grasp. Thankfully, Pyrolas is a kind of “take it easy“ dragon, so you need to try pretty hard to provoke them. When they planeswalk, flames pour from their mouth and engulf them, followed by Pyrolas disappearing. This takes a little while, so they tend to do it while flying out of the way of danger.

Hits: Flying around, treasure, the fine arts, hosting tournements. Misses: Really cold places, dragon slayers, missing out on the chance to claw Bolas in his stupid dumb face, that time they went to Ixalan.

Tanzor - GUR, Shapeshifter, ? - Do you ever wonder how the multiverse fits together? Tanzor does, and they've embarked on the most ambitious planar cartography projection in the multiverse to work it out. Of course, along the way, they’ve picked up a number of other projects. These include subjects such as planar topology, monitoring aether currents, and tracking planes that have been inflicted by Phyrexians (thanks, Karn). Most recently, Tanzor has been investigating the aftershocks from the deaths of Kozilek and Ulamog, and the appearance of temporal anomalies around Tarkir. And with the possibility of more Planar Bridges being constructed, they could soon have a whole new set of issues on their hands. Or claws. Or tentacles. When you’re a changeling, it’s sometimes hard to keep track. When in doubt, check what the person you’re reflexively copying has. (When in a group of three or more people, Tanzor generally exerts concious control over their shapeshifting, as not to freak people out).

Describing Tanzor’s physical appearance is difficult, since as a changeling, it tends to shift around a lot. When changing form, it appears that their underlying changeling colour is dark blue, however. For simplicity, let’s just say they’re friend-shaped. When Tanzor planeswalkers, their form dissippates, and they appear to collapse into a single point.

Hits: Being able to be anything, wings/fins/toxins on demand, high vantage points, advanced eyeball techniques. Misses: Being asked why they can’t shapeshift into a form that isn’t injured, Phyrexians, whoever was the latest one to screw up the multiverse (currently: Bolas, previously: Gatewatch, Ugin/Sarkhan, and others).

Xand - BR, Human Rogue, Ravnica - Xand likes to introduce himself as a cultist of wealth and taste. Which is not entirely inaccurate. He’s a member of the Cult of Rakdos, he’s got money to burn, and he’s very concerned about food. But don’t mistake Xand for some regular glutton, looking to gorge on endless plates of substandard junk. Xand has standards. Out of a dozen recipes, even after days of refinement, only a few will make it to the menu of his bar - which is an unusually “classy“ environment for a Rakdos run business. Sure, you won’t find any Azorius, Selesnya or Ozhov patrons there, and higher ranked guild members tend to avoid the it, but it’s a decent place to grab a meal or a drink. And for the fancier members of Ravnican society, there’s always Café Xand, which features table cloths, a wine list and a krasis of the day. And with the countless flavours of the multiverse available to him, Xand is always looking to expand the menu.

Xand has pale brown skin and shoulder-length black hair. Like any self-respecting Rakdos cultist, he dresses in loud, colourful robes, often patched together from previous robes that didn’t survive whatever manic Rakdos event Xand was last at. He also has a surprisingly well kept set of chef’s clothing, as likes to ensure only the right ingredients get used when he’s cooking. For personal defense (and offense), Xand carries knives. Lots of knives. Too many knives, perhaps, even when you factor in his excuse that “you never know when you might need to cut a cake, or dice some vegetables”.  He’s also pretty good at using Rakdos “hype magic” to disorient his foes, since it turns out that feeling a bunch of conflicting emotions at once is really distracting. When he planewalks, Xand disappears in a burst of dark flame, which leaves a pleasant, yet unidentifiable scent.

Hits: Good food, fine wine, various parties, visiting Valor’s Reach. Misses: Canibbalism, bar fights in his bar, Orzhov insurance rates, not being able to get the right spices, people calling him Alexander.

Look at all these nice...ish people. None of them would be into Gatewatching, but they’re also not making things worse. Tanzor might be willing to help out if they’re in the right place, and if you can appeal to her self-interest, Mazamat might teach you something useful. But with the others, their self-interest is probably going to overcome their altruism most of the time. Of course, the multiverse also has some rather more... antagonistic planewalkers, but that’s for next time.

[danyka-fendyr]

Kingdom of Gold: Part 6

That’s right everyone, it took me way way way too long, but I have finally caught up to Dream in the writing of this series. (I think. This post has not been fact-checked.) My nails are too long, my polish is not my favorite color and I don’t know why I chose it, I’m watching a movie I have so far flawlessly predicted the characters and plot points of as I write this, and my body is revolting against me in the same fashion it always does, but I’m still here. Oh also I move out on Monday and that’s deeply unsettling to me but now ask me if I’d rather not. Anyway, I guess we’ll start the angst hours now.

Edit: I moved out! It was not as bad as I thought it was going to be. So far so good.

Disclaimer: This series is based off of the lovely Faint of Heart series by @dreamwritesimagines and it’s sequel series, Crown of Hearts. I would highly recommend both series!

Taglist:@dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @finnickfoxes

Wordcount: 2763

Chapter Six: The girl was a whirlwind of anger and bitterness, her rage consuming her. She could hear no reason and no advice over the roaring fury in her ears. And when you have a storm inside of you, you also have a choice to make. You can let it destroy you, or you can let it out, and the girl had come too far to be destroyed now.

Isolde did not want to get out of bed today. In fact, she never wanted to leave it again. This time though, it was not because she’d had too much liquor the night before. She was never having a drop of that ever again. Clearly, it made her make mistakes, made her too trusting. Silly girl.

“My lady,” Dagny said, interrupting her wallowing.

“Yes, Dagny?” Isolde rolled over under the heavy furs protecting her from Kattegat’s morning chill.

“Her Majesty the Queen requests your presence.”

“I don’t suppose royalty takes rainchecks, do they?”

“Not that I am aware of.” Dagny smirked slightly.

Isolde groaned but got up out of bed anyway, a slow, reluctant thing. There were dark circles under her eyes from all the unfortunate realizations of the day before, but largely, she did not look half as bad as she felt on the inside. And another plus, she didn’t appear to actually have any large, gaping wounds, despite how she might have felt. By the time she finished getting dressed, she almost looked like she might have been fit to see the queen. 

Snapdragon was in her chambers, cradling her son in her arms and cooing Viking lullabies to him. The sound might have been soothing before, but right now it just made Isolde want to break something. Preferably the earl’s face. Beside the bed was a woman with bright red hair, and part of a smile began to grow on Isolde’s face when she realized who it was.

“Bree?”

The redhead smiled infectiously, rushing over to hug her. “Oh, my darling. It’s been too long.”

“Where were you? They told me you betryaed the king and took a Viking lover and all sorts of wild things, but when I got here there was no you to ask about it, and I didn’t get word from anyone else-”

“Oh little love,” Bree said, “I was on a raid. I’m so terribly sorry that none of these fools told you.”

Isolde stiffened, the smile dropping off her face at the word raid. “You...went on a raid.”

“Yes, yes, I know it’s unconventional for women to fight in wars back home, but come now, you’re more progressive than that-”

“I am not so progressive that I support the slaughter of an innocent people.” Isolde’s voice had gone cold.

“Isolde...what has happened to you?”

“A war, Bree. Did they not tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” There was a hint of something in her voice that was not confusion or curiosity, but fear.

“Beatrice is dead.”

Bree let out a sharp breath. “...Beatrice. Our Beatrice?”

“Yes. But I suppose it doesn’t matter when it’s not your cousin, does it? It doesn’t matter when it’s just war, just a raid. If you don’t know who’s dead then why care?”

“I did mean...” 

“Of course you didn’t. Was there anything else you’ll be needing your majesty, or did you merely wish to inform me my cousin had returned?”

Snapdragon squinted at her in a very sharp way.

“No. Sit.”

Isolde grit her teeth but sat anyway.

“What has happened? Something has happened to upset you. To change your mind.”

“Change my mind on what? As far as I’m concerned my mind has returned to its original state. The truth.”

“You know, some of the poets say that no one actually knows the truth. I would argue you certainly don’t. You’ve hardly given these people a chance.”

Isolde’s eyes flashed. “I gave them more than a chance. I gave them my trust, and they broke that. When were you going to tell me what the earl was really like?”

“Well, it seemed as though you knew. A kind, caring man who would do anything to protect what he loves. That is usually how he presents himself, isn’t it? Or am I just remarkably good at reading people?” 

Isolde scoffed. 

“What? What terrible, horrible thing happened? Tell me, my dear, and I’m sure we can right it.”

“Can you right the fact that your precious Earl Eric is just another Viking warlord who comes home covered in blood rejoicing in the spoil of his kills and bedding every maiden who bats her eyelashes at him?”

Snapdragon stared at her a moment before nodding. “Oh. Well, I see what this is about.”

“You...you do?”

“Yes. I believe I do. But first, allow me to assuage your fears. The only people Earl Eric has ever hurt, to my knowledge, are the sort of men you would condone the harm of. The very sort of men who did all those unspeakable things back at your home are the sorts of men the Earl fights. He has a code of honor, you know. Never women, never children. Only those trying to harm him and those he has seen harm others.”

Isolde did not like whatever she was feeling now. Largely because she didn’t know what she was feeling now. Should she feel lied to still, but by an entirely different person? Should she still feel angry with the earl? It was...confusing. She felt confused, and that was all that she knew.

“...oh. Well, it doesn’t matter. He’s still a...a...a floozy.”

“A floozy?” The queen arched a brow. “Hardly. The girls make their best attempts, but I have yet to see him actually take one up on their offer. Not since you came around, anyhow. Even before then he was far less...active than most of the warriors coming home.”

“What...what do you mean not since I came around??

“Oh, you know. He’s been far too busy with his duties with you to think of anyone else. I suspect he hardly thinks even of himself anymore.”

“I....I said horrible things to him,” Isolde whispered.

“Did you call him a floozy?” Snapdragon wasn’t even pretending not to be amused.

Isolde winced. “Much worse.”

“Might I suggest you swallow your pride and apologize now instead of being mad at each other for months on end and miserable?” 

“That was...specific.”

The look Snapdragon gave her told her not to ask any further questions.

“Go. Go now. And you can talk to Bree later. Earl Eric won’t know what to do without you around. I expect he’s just running around like a chicken with his head cut off.”

Isolde smiled softly. “I expect he is. He tends to do that.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Fine. I’m going.”

Isolde was only slightly ashamed to admit that she dragged her feet down the halls of the castle and deliberately took the long way to any location that Earl Eric could possibly be, starting with the ones he was least likely to be at. Alas, this strategy could only work for so long, and eventually, she came upon him. 

He cut a downtrodden figure, sitting in a back corner of the blacksmith’s workshop studying his work. His eyes seemed to be transfixed by the flames, so much so that he didn’t even notice her until she sat by his feet. She figured if she was going to apologize she had best do it well, and if that involved groveling at his feet, she deserved it.

“I’m sorry.” She spoke quietly, hesitant to disrupt the orderly din of the blacksmith’s workshop as he forged what looked like a battle axe, perhaps. “You did not deserve any of the things I said to you, and there is no excuse for my behavior last night. I hope that someday you may be able to forgive me.”

She was not brave enough to look at him as she said this, and so she did not see the softening of the pain on his face.

“Why? You say there is no excuse, but that does not mean there was no reason. What did I do to provoke such fury?”

He sounded so hurt that Isolde had to shut her eyes against the sharp, stinging wetness building in them.

“It was...it was nothing you did. It was something someone said about you that I was foolish enough to believe, that is all.”

“What did they say? And who said it?”

“A friend of mine. He...he painted a very brutal picture of you coming back from raids, I’m afraid. I don’t believe he knew you had any sort of code of honor, and neither did I until this morning. He also gave a very...detailed idea of your prowess with women.” Isolde hated how bitter she sounded on that last part.

To her surprise, the earl’s next words dared to sound amused.

“Oh? Is that what made you so mad, little icicle?”

She turned her head to look at him, a steady glare on her face from being mocked.

“Worry not. My attention is far too devoted to you now to worry about anyone else. I have a job to do, you know.” He sounded like he was about to laugh.

“I despise you.” There was no malice in it this time.

“A shame. I adore you.”

Her cheeks pinkened quickly, but she told herself it was just the heat of the forges.

“Come on now. We have to go show the queen we made up. She’ll be quite pleased.”

“...the Queen sent you?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s neither here nor there. I would have come myself, the Queen simply sped up the process a bit. I’m a horrible coward and was too afraid to face you, but I was more afraid of what she would do to me if I didn’t. She has that hawk you know.” Isolde shuddered.

“I would never let Eitr hurt you.” He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“You’ll have to excuse me for not taking any chances.” 

Was she even saying anything, or was she just pushing air out of her mouth? Because she might as well have been doing the latter for how breathy that was.

“Come now. You’ll keep us here forever if we don’t start walking,” she huffed.

Then, before she could second guess it, she took his hand to pull him along. He was so surprised that he followed easily, despite being a good foot taller than her. She smirked to herself. Two could play at this game.

“So who is this friend of yours who has such a bad opinion of me?”

And there she was blushing again. “No one.”

“No one?” That was not a happy tone of voice.

“No one at all. Just a friend.”

“Well, she seems to dislike me.”

“I’m sure he has nothing against you. Just rumors and all.” She prayed he would be distracted by the rest of the conversation and not notice the he.

“It is a man then.” The Earl didn’t sound surprised, but he also sounded solidly, definitely unhappy.

Isolde looked back at him to see the frown settling into his face, jaw working hard. Even when he was conflicted and angry he was attractive. She supposed.

“Yes. But no matter. We shouldn’t speak of it anymore.”

“Why not?” He raised a brow.

Well, she couldn’t exactly say because she didn’t want to.

“Because it’s making you moody, Earl. I much prefer your smiles.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little intrigued by this different side to the man. But that was neither here nor there.

“Then coax one out of me,” he challenged.

She did love a good challenge. “Alright then. Floki in one of my old dresses.”

Immediately he was laughing, and so was she. The picture was so comical it was hard not to. The triumphant grin on her face revealed how pleased she was with herself.

“You do not fight fair little icicle.” He was, of course, smiling as she continued to drag him through the halls of the castle.

“I can’t afford to. I’m rather small. I have to use my wits, or else I’d be dead by now.”

“Do not worry about that. I will protect you.”

She stopped, frowning. “You know you don’t have to, right?”

“What?” He stopped dead, causing her body to lurch back when she did not stop with him and their hands remained intertwined.

“You don’t have to protect me just because your queen ordered it. You don’t have to...follow me, or be nice to me, or whatever it is you’re doing, just because she says so. If you don’t-If you would rather not be around me, I can arrange for that.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

“I would very much like to be assigned to care for you for the rest of my life. It is my favorite of all my duties, and the only one I never tire of.”

Oh. That was...bold.

“Oh. Well.” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I suppose this is ideal then.”

He smiled. “Yes, I suppose that it is.” 

Gently, he raised her hand, his breath brushing across her knuckles and then his lips. Gosh, she wished he wouldn’t do that. She would never be able to walk anywhere if her legs turned to pudding first.

“Right then. On our way.” Just keep walking, just keep walking.

As Isolde had discovered at a very early age, all roads lead back to the great hall. The path they were currently on was no exception, and sooner rather than later they stumbled upon her royal majesty.

Isolde dropped the earl’s hand like it had burned her as soon as they were in the presence of others. She still felt though that everyone was watching them, or that someone had seen. That was one part of the court you never grew out of. The feeling of everyone’s eyes being on you. She wondered if farmers and merchants ever got that feeling or if they were just able to live in peace. She suspected the latter was the case.

“Your majesty.” Isolde curtsied even as Snapdragon rolled her eyes.

“I see you two made up.” She had a knowing grin on her face.

“Yes. We are on much better terms now.” It hurt Isolde to admit it, seeing that smug look on Snapdragon’s face.

“I knew you two wouldn’t be able to stay mad at each other for long.”

“Yes, yes, and you were right.” Isolde rolled her eyes.

Ivar sat by his queen’s side, not saying a word. Instead, he chose to glare at the earl, who was looking a bit gloomy himself.

“What troubles you, Earl Eric?” Snapdragon asked.

Ivar’s frown deepened.

“Oh, nothing your majesty.” He pulled up a forced smile.

“You are a terrible liar.”

“I assure you, there is nothing that you need to be worried about.”

“I suppose I will have to take you at your word. I cannot very well let my husband torture information out of you in the great hall.” 

She half-laughed at herself, clearly very oblivious to how pleased her husband looked at the suggestion. Isolde still could not puzzle out how they were together. Other than the arranged marriage bit, of course.

For a moment, she was just as confused as the queen to the earl’s mood. Just a moment ago he had been more than cheerful enough. Now, he was frowning. She found her answer though looking down to his hands, where one was noticeably empty where it had not been before, fingers fidgeting. Oh. Was that what he was worried about?

Well, she couldn’t very well hold his hand in the great hall in front of everyone where someone could see it and take it the wrong way. Then again, she found herself wishing to see him smile again. So, mustering up what cleverness she had, she managed a compromise. She smiled at him, hoping to wipe away that frown, and gently placed her hand on his arm. It wasn’t there long, only a moment or two. No one else would notice.

It would have worked flawlessly if Bree hadn’t walked in at that moment and had the uncanny ability to see through Isolde’s every move. She had been doing that since they were children and it never got less irritating or nervewracking. So of course, the moment she approached the table she gave Isolde a smile that, if you didn’t know her, might make you think she was planning on murdering you and dumping the body at the bottom of the lake. 

On the bright side though, the Earl was smiling again.

Isolde supposed that she would have to take the small victories and her cousin could wait until tomorrow.

[asianpower5]

Ok so its been 24 hours since I saw the movie and I wanted to write down my thoughts, most of it is for me so I can go back and read how I felt about it years from now, its going to be very long and wordy but im just writing as the thoughts come and now worrying about grammar or anything, that includes timeline, so my thoughts may come to me out of order . I’m going to put it all under read more so i dont spoil it for any of you lovely people

So I got to the theater like 40 minutes early because I just couldnt contain myself and I wanted to get my perfect seat. Wore my new HTTYD shirt and brought my toothless plushie from build a bear (another little girl had the same idea she was so cute)

but now onto the movie

they threw me for a loop I was totally expecting a “this is berk’” speech as the very opening, not the raid, but honestly this movie is about change so I liked the change. But I still got my fix, because as they flew back to Berk my only thought was “this is berk”, AND THEN HE SAID THE THING YES.

Loved the scene in the great forge, it just really showed how big Berk is and how many vikings there are, and seeing them all happy and enjoying a meal together just warmed my heart, plus Gobber teasing Astrid and Hiccup about marriage and Valka beating Spitelout at arm wrestling haha.

Tuffnut was comedic gold, talking about his “beard” and giving hiccup bro pep talks. And when he said the earth was round? and the stars? I almost died laughing. 

Grimmel  being a complete jerk and drugging those poor dragons with their own venom.

Fetch with Hiccup’s leg?? and him dropping it in Astrid’s lap and then being over protective of the leg when Stormfly came near it? Then Hiccup tickling Astrid, what did we do to deserve such a cute Hiccstrid scene?

Toothless meeting the light fury was even better than I thought, he was such a dork and had no idea what to do, then looking to Hiccup for advice about how to flirt oh gosh silly boy.

Im calling Hiccup out on his saying Astrid isnt a romantic, I mean Hiccup is totally the hopeless romantic, but Astrid in my mind is totally a secret romantic, at least when it comes to her own relationship.

Also Toothless practicing his mating dancing by watching his shadow and studying the naddars as they danced was so adorable.

Ok ngl I actually thought Grimmel had shot Toothless in the house, and I was so happy to see that is was part of their plan and that he had back up (sorry Fishlegs I love you and you took one for the team so good on you!). Why I was surprised by this idk, I know these characters enough to know that they would pull something like that. BUT HICCUP TELLING GRIMMEL OFF AND CALLING HE OUT FOR SITTING IN STOICKS CHAIR, YES BOY. That just made the feeling of Berk being attacked and flames burning everywhere hurt so much more.

The meeting with all of Berk? Just wow, I mean first off I love that Hiccup had his whole gang up there with him, just goes to show that he really trusts them and values them as being part of the team. Astrid sticking up for my boy and Tuff just going “IM WITH HIM WHO ELSE” A plus team work, I loved the support. Not to mention the fact that Hiccup was able to convince them all to pack up what little they could carry and leave. I mean we know from the first movie that vikings are stubborn, but they are also capable of change. The fact that they left their home of 7 generations and probably left some import things they couldnt carry with them was such an amazing gesture. And Berk really is where ever the vikings are, it is not just a single island. It really hurt to see them leave the island, the place where it all started, but the fact that they all stuck together really shows how strong of a bond they have as a people. 

Light fury knocking Hiccup off Toothless, such a sassy girl I love her. I mean come on Toothless was obviously gunna save him. Also the sheeps wanting to be dragons is something I never new I needed, especially after seeing how afraid of dragons they used to be (I mean the dragons did hunt them, but im all here for them cosplaying as their favorite dragons) 

I JUST REMEMBERED I NEVER TALKED ABOUT FLASHBACKS SO LETS DO THAT NOW. First of little toddler Hiccup??? THE FRICKIN CUTEST THING EVER OK. I know there was a line in the trailer that wasnt in the movie the one where Stoick says something like “I believe its your destiny to find the hidden world so dragons and vikings no longer need to fight” but I wasnt sad that they didnt keep this line. I think it makes more sense to have what they did, Stoick talking about finding the hidden world so they could protect Berk from it. I mean this took place when they were still fighting dragons, so yea the line about destiny could mean he thinks Hiccup would destroy the hidden world, but the tone of the scene was so calm and relaxing that to me it gave off the vibe that Stock was implying that Hiccup would unite their worlds, which doenst make sense since again they were still at war with the dragons at this point. So I liked what they had in the movie, I think what they kept fit the tone and it still showed how Berk was at war with the dragons.

NEXT FLASHBACK. Little Hiccup just sneaking down the stairs and then his little face like “oh shit” when he saw his dad was up and trying to sneak back up. The way he said he wanted water, I JUST IT WAS SO CUTE, whoever voiced tiny hiccup good job because omg it was so cute. How happy he was to go over to his dad and sit on his lap.  When he asked Stoick if he would get them a new mom, my heart just broke I mean Hiccup was so young that he didn’t fully grasp the situation, and I mean before Hiccup got caught sneaking downstairs we saw Stoick crying. That was so important to me I mean Stoick the Vast, he is massive, and remember the first movie the fact about him ripping a dragons head off as a baby? Yea this character who basically screams masculinity has yet another vulnerable scene, showing yet again that crying is ok (I mean back in the first movie when he told Hiccup he wasnt his son, and when he met Valka again?? yes please keeping showing people that being masculine doenst mean you cant cry!). Stoick teaching Hiccup about love, yes dad points for you, I adore the scenes like these, that show how much Stock loves his family, he would be so proud of Hiccup and who he has become. OH YEA SIDE NOTE HOW I FORGET HICCUPS STUFFED DRAGON? THROWBACK TO THE TV SERIES THANK YOU.

New Berk, cuz thats the best I got to call it right now, love how everyone basically immediately goes to claiming their areas ahha.

Ok Snotlout my boy did you really just say “who died and made yout Chief” because too soon, I still love you

Low key thought they were gunna make Snotlout and Eret a thing, despite the weird flirting Snotlout had with Valka. I mean he was trying to be taller than Eret, and Eret was like hah no, yall id ship it ngl eret and snotlout 

Toothless meeting up with the light fury again, but this time trusting his instincts is another reminder that toothless is in fact an animal, a very intelligent animal, but an animal who has instincts and a desire to be with his own kind, I mean can you blame him? Its been at least 6 years since hes seen another dragon that was like him, maybe even longer depending on how long he was alone before he met hiccup. 

The throw back to the forbidden friendship scene? With toothless drawing in the sand, and oh God I never thought I would get so emotional about sand but dang that sand animation just was so realistic that I wanted to touch it. Hiccup being like “wow now you can draw”, Toothless growling at the light fury like he did to Hiccup back in the first for stepping on his art, come on guys Toothless worked hard on his art! The light fury flying away but toothless not being able to follow her, another throwback to when he couldnt fly with the dragons during the snoggletog special.

Hiccup making toothless a tail to fly alone, and Im glad they added the part when Astrid said they tried it before, again throwback to snoggletog, and that he didnt want the tail, and Hiccup clarifying that it was because he had no need to fly alone before. Now my only worry here is that the casual fan will just think that the exchange is a copout, I mean unless you remember the special you wouldnt know that they tired making him a tail fin and he didnt want it, so to the casual fan it might seem like they only added the comment to answer the question “If hiccup could make a tail fin why did he never do it before?”. Seeing the special where toothless destroys the tail really adds a layer of depth to the scene, because those of us who saw it remember that it was a statement that even though Hiccup had the ability to create a tail so toothless could fly alone, toothless wanted to fly with his best friend and didnt care for the tail. 

now the actual scene with toothless flying alone finding the light fury, first off it was so cute how he showed her his new tail! He was so proud of it, and no doubt proud of his best friend for making it. The scene itself though reminded me so much of the romantic flight, the way they flew together above the clouds and how it gave a sense of flight because we couldnt see the ground, ugg it was so beautiful. I was honestly blown away by the animation, the clouds and the color, they were all so beautiful. Toothless and the light fury flying together and really bonding, similar to Astrid and Hiccup on their first flight together, ugg all the throwbacks to the first movie really killed me. Also Toothless trying to copy the light fury and how she goes invisible was so cute, he was like “ah yes I got this, wait no shit again, no shit again again!” then he basically summons thors power of lighting and finds his new power, so proud of my baby. 

Now I fully believe that Toothless was going to go back to Hiccup after he spent time with the light fury in the hidden world, no way my boy would leave my other boy without a goodbye. But the other started to freak Hiccup out, I mean Hiccup knew his best friend would come back, but the others made him doubt it and seeing him freak out was heart breaking.

Astrid being like boy hop on we gonna get yo dragon, yes girl. Honestly them going into the hidden world on Stormfly? I mean need i say anything about the animation in this scene? The visuals were just breath taking, I cannot put it into words. Tootheless being the alpha is always a win, also Astrid calling him a king and Hiccup realizing that this beautiful place of dragons, is not place for humans, because Valka said it best, greedy humans ruin everything.

Hiccup and Astrid getting caught by a dragon and then going on a fun slide ride, and of course toothless comes through as the alpha to protect his humans, ALSO STORMFLY DONT THINK I FORGOT ABOUT HER, CUZ YES. I mean just like toothless Stormyfly will protect her human best friend, and I love her. 

How did I forget the next raid scene? I mean dang again the visuals and the lighting were just so spot on. Them all getting trapped? Valka being a badass and working with Cloudjumper to save them? Hiccup jumping and just escaping the clutches of Grimmels dragon? RUFFNUT

Ruffnut my girl dont think I forgot about you, I just I dont even know what to do with you. She was amazing, I mean shes just does not care, not scared that shes a prisoner, she fricking just talks about how ‘hot’ she is and just other random stuff about her life, like girl give me that confidence. But when she talked about the island i was like girl no dont do that, but her flying back and saying she doenst look back in response to being asked about being followed was pretty darn funny.

Bro the scene of the light fury and toothless getting captured? Toothless protecting her and telling the other dragons to stand down, at least until they can escape. Just heart breaking, help is so close, but I guess thats the downside of being the alpha, having that power can be used against you.

Astrid my girl, pep talking my boy Hiccup JUST LIKE THE FIRST MOVIE. And yes parallels again, just like in the first one Astrid said things to hiccup, she was very honest with him pointing out the things that had done wrong, the first pointing out how messy the situation got because of the lies, and in this movie pointing out how he constantly doubts himself, and in both Hiccup has a sassy comment regarding her pep talks, but Astrid always follows up with the good, like how he was the first viking to ride a dragon or how he was always brave, even without toothless, showing how she would always be by his side to support him and help him, especially when hes about to do something stupid. I just ugg they are couple goals, they dont even need to say I love you because they SHOW IT in their actions, in their support for eachother, their cute banters, and I am here for it. ALSO I MEAN HE KISSED HER HAIR EARLY AND THEN HER FOREHEAD THOSE ARE SO CUTE TO ME AND JUST SO NATURAL FOR THEM AHHH. Also “so what are you gunna do about it” “probably something stupid” YES YES YES I AM HERE FOR THAT SHIT

Everyone jumping off the island so they can ‘fly’ on their own, just first off so visually amazing, and second off so symbolic to me of each of them spreading their own wings and growing up into amazing people. 

Fishlegs and his baby dragon, I mean come on lets be real that shit is adorable, and baby dragon had his big dragon (does that dragon have a class name? because I dont remember it) friend and Fishlegs be like dont mess with baby dragon. 

Yooo I knew it, from the trailer I was like “Tuffnut is probs pissed that this dude cut off his hair beard” and boom it happned, but rip hair beard (until the end of the movie that is when it comes back)

Yall that unspoken scene where Hiccup and Astrid are just frickin shit up WHILE THEY JUST LOOK AT EACHOTHER, I MEAN HICCUP JUST CASUALLY THROWS SHIT TO START A FIRE AND THE ENTIRE TIME THEY ARE STARING AT EACHOTHER HAVE A CONVERSATION COMPLETELY WITH THEIR EYES LIKE THAT IS SOME NEXT LEVEL SHIT AND COUPLE GOALS.

I got such satisfaction out of Toothless destroying grimmels arrow shoter thing and watching as Grimmel started to get afraid, I mean this dude was so confident in his abilites, and up until now he has had the upper hand, but then you can see the “oh shit moment” as he realizes he is starting to lose and heck yea im here for it. Speaking of oh shit moments, when hiccup was riding toothless and they wer getting attacked? and then toothless is like “I SUMMON YOU THOR AND YOUR LIGHTING” and hiccup was like WTH?!!??!?!?

Ok yall that scene when toothless got shot, and hiccup is hanging from the light fury with grimmel on his leg? I mean Grimmel really thought that he had won, he underestimated the love Hiccup has for Toothless, and the moment that Hiccup told the light fury to save Toothless and he let go? the hesitation she had trying to pick who to save? her new mate, or his best friend that she now seems to understand has a great important meaning to toothless? The image of Hiccup falling, and the camera angle? I mean seeing him fall from above, seeing it in his face that he was content, content knowing that his best friend would be alive and safe and that Grimmel would no longer be able to hurt the dragons or his people? Such a self sacrifice, a true Chief just like his father. 

Then the light fury to the rescue! Hiccup being like LOL BYE GRIMMLE YOU DEAD. Also reminded me of when he started to ride toothless back in the first movie and they fell and hiccup got back on his back and in control just in time, because dang she saved him his butt just before he hit the water. But seriously I loved this scene, she went back for hiccup, she saw the interactions Toothless had with him, how Toothless protected him and Astrid in the hidden world, how Toothless CHOSE HICCUP when he saw him in danger in the hidden world, she came to realize that this boy is important to Toothless, and she saw that Hiccup was willing to die for Toothless, and she went back and saved him, and God I got emotional.

Also Hiccup leaning on Astrid because he has lost his prostectic leg, yessss im here for it

NOW TO THE REAL TEAR JERKER I mean gosh you could just see the realization again in Hiccup that the dragons didnt belong with them on Berk, that even though they love the dragons and the dragons love them, even though they have worked together for years and they want to live together in peace they just cant do it safely.There are too many people out in the world who would attack berk, and we have seen that both in the movies and the show, and that puts both the people and the dragons at risk. 

It was safest for everyone if the dragons went to the hidden world, where no one could find them, well expect Hiccup and Astrid who have been there once. I just cant though, that scene was just so amazing and heart crushing. I mean you can see it that Toothless doesnt want to leave his best friend, and Hiccup doenst want him to leave, but he reassures him that its ok that its best for everyone and that its time to say good bye for now, not forever though. Then oh God how Astrid follows him, because she knows hes right too, she knows that they can no longer live with their dragons safely, and she takes off Stormflys saddle and says good bye to her best friend. THEN VALKA who has lived with the dragons for 20 years, she knows too and she doenst hesitate to let Cloudjumper go free, and it made so much sense to me that she was so willing to do so even after being together for 20 years, she has protected them for 20 years so there is no doubt in my mind that Valka would do this without a second though if it meant that was the best thing for her friend. THEN OMG EVERYONE ELSE FOLLOWS THAT JUST HURT SO MUCH. I mean ever single Berkian seens what Hiccup did, and everyone knows they have a special bond, I mean they all have a special bond with their dragons, but Hiccup and Toothless are different, they were the only pair that we know of that needed each other to fly, I mean sure the other vikings needed their dragons to fly but their dragons didnt need them to fly, toothless relied on hiccup to control his tail and that bond is so special. Anyway, I just thought that all the others saw Hiccup doing this, and hes their Chief the man who started the whole riding dragons for them, so I have no doubt in my mind that they would follow his lead, and again to me they see Hiccup and Toothless doing this letting go, so they must think “If these two can do it so can I”. I just really think it shows how much the vikings truly care for their dragon friends, when you love someone you want the best for them, you want them to be happy, even if that means you need to say goodbye. And thats what happened here the vikings loved their dragons so much that they were willing to say goodbye to their friends if it meant that they would be save, and the same goes in the other direction, the dragons are not dumb and I believe they knew that leaving is what was best too, that leaving meant that their viking friends would be safer. The love they all have for each other is so amazing. I only wish that the goodbye was long, I am so bad at goodbyes and omg I just wish they had a longer time to say goodbye, not only to their dragons but to the others as well, I mean toothless saying goodbye to Astrid and Stormfly too Hiccup? uG I SUCK AT GOOD BYWS OK I JUST WANT EVERYONE TO BE ABLE TO SAY GOOD BYE TO ALL THE DRAGONS.

But man i said to myself ‘you can do it dont cry’ didnt work, I sobbed, legit sobbed, and it wasnt my normal movie cry were its just tears, it was the kind where you can feel the pain in your chest from your heart beating to hard, from trying to hold back the chocked sobs so no one else would  get annoyed, although lets be real they are did the same thing so we all cried.  Seeing them all fly off, AND THE REVERSE HAND TOUCH I CANNOT, THAT REALLY HURT I JUST COULDNT TAKE IT THE PARALLELS REALLY KILLED ME THE ENTIR MOVIE. Then Toothlesses look back at Hiccup, and then the long shot and seeing the massive wave of dragons, and then seening toothless following from the back as he is the last to leave, the vikings looking on with sadness and fondness for their dragons, really did come for my heart.

NOW ONTO HAPPY TIMES. the Wedding, oh my god, how lucky can a girl be? I got to see the mother of all my OTPs get married, and dang they were beautiful, and they looked so happy, it just warmed my heart to know that these two dorks who truly have a special relationship finally got married. Then Gobber called them Chief and Chiefstriss and wow really hit me hard that these two were going to lead Berk together, because they are always there to support each other. THEN that kiss so cute, and how Hiccup goes to gently cup her face with his hands, just wow my otp is the best.

Then we again have love master Tuffnut who will take Snotlout as his new student, and FISHLEGS HAS A LITTLE BABY GRUNKLE STUFFED ANIMAL IN HIS BAG. aND RUFF being like “you win i love sensitive guys” Then we have Hiccup and Astrid looking out to the sea as their friends and family come together with them, and Astrid lays her head on his shoulder so great.

Now dang my boy HICCUP WITH A BEARD??? BEARDCUP IS REAL, and he is wearing his fur cap, and Astrid looking like a frickin QUEEN, and AGAIN HOW LUCKY CAN A GIRL BE I SEE A WEDDING AND I GET CHILDREN????? MY OTP HAS TWO CHILDREN???? AND THEY ARE GORGEOUS.

buT DANG when they saw Toothless through the fog and then the light fury and then the little baby heads pop up, and you can see how happy Hiccup is. But Toothless doenst immediatly recognize him, which makes sense because I mean 10 year for humans can change the looks drastically, and hiccup has a beard now so he doenst look like what toothless remembered, plus hes the alpha and must protect his family. Astrid protecting her children like a frickin badass mom, and Zephry hidding behind her mom and Nuffink going into her chest? Ug love it, they trust their mom to protec them, and I love this to because it really shows that they are children, I mean I have no doubt that Astrid and Hiccup are going to raise them to be brave, I mean its Hiccup and Astrid, but they are still children and well they have grown in a world without dragons, different than their parents, we know at that age Astrid was fearless, I mean she wanted to fight a flightmare, but now the world has changed and they arent at war and they can raise their kids as kids, and I love that they showed that fear in the children it just gave a sense of realism to me. 

Then HIccup DID THE THING with the hand and Toothless finally was like “WAIT THIS IS MY HUMAN” and his eyes went big and omg how he attacked him with kisses and licks. Then Astrids laugh to see them reunite, and them urging their kids that it was ok, and remember before when I said they would raise brave kids? Well this little cuties were afraid, but they still listened and trusted their parents, and omg Zephry was so stiff from fear and her face, and Nuffink was hiding his face, but Hiccup came and showed them how to approach Toothless, and wow here we go again with the hand touch and HIccup telling them to let him come to them, and Toothless did the thing AND OMG THEIR REACTION WAS SO CUTE. The way Zephry cocked her head and smiled, and how Nuffink dropped his hand from his face and his mouth widened in awe of his dragon. 

THEN I GET TO SEE HICCUP WITH HIS SON RIDING TOOHTLESS? AND HIS SOON IS JUST MAKING THE CUTEST LITTLE WAVING MOTIONS WITH HIS HANDS. And hiccup throwing his kid in the air as he giggles in delight, and I swear I heard him say “Dada” and it killed me. Then Astrid being Astrid flys right passed them ON STORMFLY, like thank you for not forgetting about my girl, because she loves Stormfly and Stormfly loves her and seeing Astrid ride her with her daughter just made the scene even better. They could have easily forgotten about my girl, but they didnt, they didnt do her dirty, I may not have gotten to see the moment when she and Stormfly met again, BUT I SAW THEY RIDING TOGETHER AND THATS GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.

Oh yea bonus points for seeing the light fury and the babies flying with them. Then Hiccup just flys upside down dropping Nuffink on Astrids head, and ug the way he just casually clings to his mother, then I was like wow I hope Zephry gets to ride Toothless with he father, AND THEN HE PULLED UP NEXT TO THEM AND HELD OUT HIS HAND TO DO JUST THAT, dreamworks you really came through for me, thank you so much for allowing Dead and all the other hard workers of this franchise make this amazing world for us. It tore my heart apart, but I loved every second of it, and I have no regrets, it was honestly a great ending,no matter how badly it hurt and how badly I wanted them to live together forever, it was just the perfect ending with a great lesson about letting go and moving on, becoming your own person, and being happy with the memories you had, because being able to say you loved something or someone and letting them go is better than never loving them at all, thats what happend to the vikings and dragons, and thats what happened to me personally at the end of it all. I cant wait to relive the magic and watch all the movies again. 

oh how could I forget? The end credits, you thought the pain ended with the end of the movie nope the credits are going to give you every major scene from each movie, reminding us where we started and where we have come to, and that was just the cherry on top of it all. 

Also side note a girl sat behind me and she goes “is that a toothless plushie?” and yes it was so she asked to see it so i handed him to her and we started talking about the movie, she was able to see it during an early release boo i had work. Anyway she asks me how old i was when the first came out, and I said 16, she seemed shook and i asked her the same, she said she was 5, so if math does me right she would be about 14/15. I was older than she is currently is when the first movie came out, thats wild. Then i laughed off the age difference saying “you would never know ill be 25 in a week”, and her (i assume) mom said I looked young haha. But because of the age difference I gave her some good life advice, I told her not to care about what others think of you, Im almost 25 crying over a dragon movie that means the world to me as i sit with my dragon plushie, and her mom just agreed with me and told her to listen to me because I knew what I was saying haha. Shout out to this girl too because shes the one who told me that Hiccup and Astrids’s kids had cannon names, I had been avoiding everything I could about this movie so I was glad to be up to date on that.

Wow this took me like 2 hours to write i think? I mean yea it was mostly for me to read later in life so I can remember this day, all the photos i took before hand, and all the excitement I had, wow Hi future me! Sorry about all the grammar mistakes but Im just typing as the thoughts come, hope I didnt break your heart again as you read all this. Until next time

[carnagewrought-blog]

join me.

DRABBLE PROMPT | ACCEPTING––  J O I N  M E  / a drabble about my character giving your character an offer 

In the end, there had been nothing but blood stained bone and wreckage. She’d seen to it, had felt as the winds themselves ceased to exist within the snow ridden mountains. For, no one was to breath, no one was to feel so much as their beating heart if she herself did not permit it so. Swathed in furs, crimson coats the ends, familiar scent of rust finding itself invading her senses. She’s grown accustomed to it, the stench of death that manages to follow in her wake. If it was not the fresh carcasses of the children in which she’d failed to save from their now ashen remnants, it was the foul reminder that their charred flesh had touched that of her own. She, a pristine being, once as lowly as them. Once as hopeful as them. How they’d seen her, a girl with such poise, hair wild within the winds and their eyes shone, bright with the promise of a better tomorrow as she’d watched their homes burn, as she’d heard their screams echo. 

Scorned, her own blood, hidden ichor laying within, now courses through veins. Bubbling, seething, aching with a hunger in which she cannot seem to sedate. Her own madness hidden beneath the guise of a war driven queen. The promise of a woman who’d burn cities to the ground if only to make way for a better home to lay rest there tomorrow. It’s with Aleksander’s memory plaguing her, taunting her as if he whispers into her ears that she will destroy them, that she will destroy herself. Yet, she seeks no comfort in the emptied throne room, but rather finds solace within the confides of strategies, murals painted against cloth adorning the walls. Here, she’d thought, here is where they’d fallen in love, where she imagined others would tell stories of how they’d plotted the demise of a country together, or perhaps simply where the wicked witch seduced the once bright king and drew him into her darkness. For, no one trusted women adorned in armour. A woman in power, to them, she’d wondered, was something to fear

Her company, Jove and Persia, and their unwavering loyalty, had done nothing but cause Helen to delve further. To find an anger within her bones, lonely and echoing for the daughter lost and the love slain. War, it had seemed, left no room for love. War was bloodshed and hunger, it was watching cities burn if only to ache to scream into a void at the edge of the woods. If this is what the gods had wanted, if they’d sought to mould her into a monster, then so be it. Where she was once soft, a girl whose dreams encapsulated beauty itself, she had grown rigid, a reckoning upon the world itself. Maternal instinct to forge flames in the name of her daughter. Her darling, her dearest, her dead. 

It’s with these hungry eyes, these tired eyes, heavily lidded in which she manages to focus upon Cedric. Her confidant. It puzzles her if only for a moment, that when she speaks he ceases to engage. Perhaps the paranoia had begun to eat away at her decaying flesh, once glistening now reflective of nothing but the moonlight. She was sure he had known her better than she’d ever known herself. Had stood by her side as she’d spoke of false promises and in turn, had lied alongside with her unbeknownst. Had she dragged a man, a god, into the depths of her hell so far that his would be wings had been scorched by the flames she’d brought to life herself?  The black hearted Blood Bringer, they’d called her. Their tyrant queen. The woman who’d make it rain blood if she could only sit back and watch as others became drenched in her sins. Jawline tightens, his silence speaks more than he ever could. It echoes, filling the room with a coldness in which Helen could scarcely imagine. 

“What say you, Cedric?” She rises, a strength ridden figure of darkness, lithe digits now drumming against tabletop as gaze slices through air as if daggers. How she wishes to dig into his flesh, a desire to see blood trickle down his throat if only to teach him a lesson. There’s a growlbiting at her cheeks as it claws its way up past her throat. To keep an impatient woman waiting, to make a queen even fathom the idea of begging. “Where would you like to be when this is over ? You’ve sworn fealty to me once before, found yourself enamoured by the vision in which we’ve both shared so well.” A vision in which had never saw the destruction of a nation, the hunger of its people, the corruption of its crown. “Will you, or will you not, stand beside me once more?” Arched brow, her heart aches to beat against hollowed chest. For he had known her when the world was still bright, when their futures were sealed to be written in history books as something to be celebrated. Now, however, she’d found herself down a darkened path, a vengeful , iron fist replacing the once gentle open palm. A girl who saw beauty in florals and song had been replaced with a woman who’d seen to eradicate all that came with such things. 

It’s with a steady gaze that she studies him, watches the twitch in his lip at her words and hears the sunken gulp that emits from his throat. 

“Speak.” The tone is rough, hoarse in delivery as she feels the rage catch ahold of every world that slides from her tongue with an unforgiven fury. Hand, with one swift movement, slices through thickened air to topple over goblets that sit dormant upon table top. She prays they flinch, prays that the entirety of them beg for forgiveness. “When I offer you something such as this, I’d advise you to make the right decision, Cedric. As Jove has, as Persia has. Are you not as capable as them, do you find your heart to be softened for justice?” Her words are likened to venom, a catapult into a silence struck room as she takes steady strides towards him. “I assure you, they know whose side is the right one in this war. Do not make a fool of yourself, or of me.”  

[ripplesofaqua]

Written

“It… is only a story.”  ~ Cassandra/Varric ~ AO3/FFN

1,896 words ~ rated T

Varric finds her on the battlements, a wine bottle in her hand and an unopened book in her lap. She stares off into space, her back ramrod straight against the stone wall. Frowning, Varric plucks the novel out of her loose grip, and a quick glance at the cover tells him it’s one of his own. He raises an expectant eyebrow, but she gives no response. Unease blooms in Varric’s stomach, though the bottle remains nearly full. If Cassandra did not drink more than the bottle claims, she’s ignoring him.

Varric has always hated silence.

“Oh, did my writing finally drive you to drink, Seeker? Surprised you’ve tolerated it this long.”

Sure enough, she cannot resist his teasing, though her answer does little to ease his discomfort.

“It… is only a story.” Cassandra’s voice is unusually flat, and still she will not look at him.

“That’s hurtful,” Varric answers plaintively, his hand clutching at his heart in obvious exaggeration. “True, but still hurtful.” All the bravado in the world cannot hide the truth of that statement. He does hurt–not for his book, but for Cassandra.

“No”–she sighs in heavy exasperation–"I mean this is just a story.” She gestures vaguely to their surroundings, but does not offer further elaboration.

For once, the Seeker is reluctant to say what’s on her mind, and Varric finds himself at a loss for words.

So instead of talking, he plops down onto the cold stone next to her, his shoulder a hairsbreadth from hers. Deciding that he is decidedly too sober for this, he steals a swig from her bottle before trying again.

“A story, Seeker? Care to explain?”

“Everything that has happened here–the Conclave, the Breach, the Inquisition… it is absurd. So completely beyond the scope of anything this world has seen that…” Cassandra meets his eyes with a bitter laugh. “Well, if I were not living it myself, I would call it the plot of a poorly-written adventure novel.”

“Ah like one of mine, then,” Varric agrees distractedly while he attempts to sort through his racing thoughts.

With a dazed sort of intuition, he appreciates just how much he has come to rely on her composure–how much they all have. But now, with the cracks in her strength and faith visible, he feels doubt prick at the back of his own mind.

Helplessness–that is what Cassandra fears.

Are we helpless?

Against the enormity of the enemy they face, Varric cannot bring himself to utter empty platitudes, cannot reassure her that they will triumph, let alone survive the war intact. All he can do is comfort her that she is not alone in her anxieties.

He forces a smile onto his face and shifts until their knees and shoulders touch, a warm weight against the cold sky stretching above.

“Oh, this shit is extremely weird. My editor will never believe me.” He snorts. “As if I’d ever get involved with something reasonable.”

“So you are going to write about us?” Cassandra asks in that high, breathy tone she uses whenever he mentions the possibility of a new book. Still, her words are forced and her eyes lack their usual sparkle.

Varric recognizes the attempt, but he will not fall for it.

“Don’t change the subject, Seeker. I know this is bothering you.”

Cassandra scoffs but still leans into him, her head hovering just above his shoulder, reluctant to rest her weight on him completely. She hesitates for a long moment before speaking.

“I… I feel like a character in a book, but I do not know what the author plans for me. For us. I do not like to be helpless.”

Ahh, there it is.

Varric lets out a heavy breath, observing Cassandra’s tired expression through the corner of his eye. This is not a topic he speaks about often but… someone’s got to do it.

She looks utterly miserable.

“Look, the tale of Andraste, the Maker–it is a great story. Ridiculous, sure. Definitely cruel at times. But if it’s the Maker writing, surely it can’t end up all that bad in the end.”

She straightens and tilts her head away from him once more, swallowing audibly. “I trust in the Maker’s will, yes. But I am no longer sure He is the author of all this.” She fidgets and Varric sees undeserved guilt written in her eyes. “So much of this was considered blasphemy, just one year ago. It has shattered the teachings of the Chantry.”

Maferath’s balls, this is even worse than he’d thought.

Varric grasps for something to say, only to be left empty handed. The silence stretches into awkwardness, and so he must say something.

“Well, maybe the Maker’s writing drunk,” he manages to blurt out. “Trust me, things get odd when alcohol’s involved.”

The words replay in his mind and he winces. She is going to kill him for that.

“Ughh.”

Cassandra gives no further protest against his profanity, and while Varric is relieved for his own safety, the lack is telling. At least enough faith remains within her for his comment to earn a disgusted noise.

Varric wonders if it might be wiser to steer the conversation towards a safer topic. After all, he would prefer not to be the one responsible for destroying all of the Seeker’s devotion.

Maybe he can make her laugh, instead.

“Fine, not the Maker then. Someone else. Writing a book to impress their friends.” He pauses to study her with an exaggerated thoughtfulness, his hand scratching at the stubble on his chin. “She’s very drunk. Trying to compete with her favorite, roguishly handsome author. She’ll regret everything come morning.”

“She?”

The glare she aims at him pierces to his core, and he silently rejoices at the rekindled passion there. Right now, anger is even better than laughter.

Cassandra’s fury leaves no room for helplessness.

Varric figures he might as well fan the flames a bit–make sure they don’t burn out prematurely.

“Oh, and why not, Seeker?” he asks, “aren’t all of you are into that romantic stuff? Written in the stars, and everything?”

Cassandra sniffs disdainfully, and Varric is sure he has never seen someone raise their chin at him in contempt so beautifully.

“Like you are not a romantic, yourself, dwarf?” She smirks and his heart soars. “I’ve read your books, Varric. Fated lovers and doomed heroes are your specialty.”

“Fated lovers? I write crime serials, Seeker.”

“Yes, yes, crime serials about tragic characters.” She turns and jabs her finger into his chest. “The older dwarf brother, the Comte and Comtess. H–”

Hawke and Anders.

“I get it, Seeker,” Varric says, pushing her hand away, his voice rough as he forces down his own painful memories. It will help no one if he gets emotional now.

Cassandra braces her hands against her hips, clearly incensed. “No! I still have not forgiven you for the third chapter of Hard in Hightown. I think fate is a dwarf–too cruel to his most beloved characters.”

Varric rolls his eyes–everyone’s a critic these days, though he’s glad she wasn’t referring to… a different couple.

It wouldn’t have been a lie if she had.

Varric has always been attracted to tragedy. At least in his books he puts it to good use.

“Look Seeker, if you love a character, you give them pain, ruin their lives, make them suffer. Then they become more likable–forged into a better version of themselves.”

He won’t mention how fate can also leave its victims battered and broken.

Cassandra is clearly not convinced. “So that is what you do to them? What fate does to us? Makes us more likable?”

Is that why they gave each other shit for so many months?

Varric can’t help but wonder…

“Am I likeable, Seeker?”

Her gaze sweeps up and down his body as she takes his measure. “You are highly annoying, but yes, you are quite likeable.” She leans into him, so close he can feel her breath against his cheek, and her eyes crinkle in amusement. “Am I?”

“Very likeable, Cassandra,” he answers, his voice low and raspy. They’re so close now, their noses are almost touching, and Varric thinks if he just leans in a little bit more…

Then something crashes in the courtyard below, and shouted curses shatter the still air.

Cassandra pulls back abruptly and turns her head away, though she cannot hide the color staining her cheeks. With a quick shake of her head she stands and walks over to the parapet, searching for the source of the commotion.

She’s avoiding him again.

Varric pulls himself up off the floor with a groan and follows after her. He carefully places his hand on her shoulder, hoping that something of the previous moment could be salvaged.

“Cassandra, I–”

She pulls out of his grip and turns to face him, her arms crossed sternly over her chest. “Why are we still having this frivolous conversation?”

Varric won’t let her get out of this that easily. He flashes a smile and spreads his hands open in front of him. “Oh, it’s a common occurrence, Seeker. The writer can’t think of a good way to end things.” His grin grows infuriatingly large. “You know, the strongest characters are never helpless against the author’s plans. They have a life of their own–can take over a scene, even an entire story. It’s annoying as hell when you’re trying to write, but a good storyteller always listens to the voices in their head.”

Cassandra raises a dubious eyebrow. “So fate hears voices in her head and does not know what to do with us. Now what?”

“Well, right now we’ll just have to wait until she comes up with something”–he waggles his eyebrows–“or take charge and end the scene on our own.”

“Ughh.”

She turns to leave, but he catches her wrist.

“Don’t just leave like that. Where’s the drama? The final climax?”

She only glares at him in response.

“Nothing? Alright, how about we list everything we actually like about each other–since we apparently find each other so likeable. Here I’ll go f–”

“No.”

“Everything we don’t like? I thought we w–”

“No.”

“We have to talk about something, Seeker, or this scene won’t be finished for weeks. Here, I spy, with my–”

“This is ridiculous.”

“That sick of me already? Well there is something… Best way to end a scene, really, but you’d never agree…”

“Out with it already, Varric.”

Varric wonders if all this is truly of their own making, or if they’re both being played as fortune’s fool.

There’s only one way to find out, though, so with a deep breath Varric crosses the point of no return.

“We… we could always kiss.”

Cassandra regards him carefully, silently, and he fears the worst.

“Very well.”

“Wh-what was that? I could have sworn you–”

“Kiss me, dwarf.”

Varric has no time to respond. She grabs his collar and their lips collide.

Very likeable, indeed…

Maybe the story won’t end so badly, after all.

[dreamofcentipedes]

Red Lotus Blooms: 1 - A Rite of Passage

Summary: A monster is forged in flame. As light burns out, red leaves unfurl. The dread march of Aogiri’s Salamander begins with a game by a pond on the day everything changed.

Characters: Tatara, Yan

Rating: Teen, for DARKNESS. Words: 2,431 Link to AO3.

Link to Table of Contents.

A/N: Hello everyone! Some of you have been asking about my writing recently, so I figured now would be a good time to take this out of my creative fridge. This is my fanfiction debut on tumblr as well as for TG, so it’s quite exciting =w=

Since this blog was created after his death, I don’t get the chance to talk about him much, but Tatara was one of my favourite TG characters. Badass character design, badass personality, but despite being the face of Aogiri I can’t help feeling he was a little underused. I cherished what little glimpses of his past we were given, but he died before we could get anything more fleshed-out. So to satiate my curiosity I decided to create my own backstory for Tatara. This is Part 1 of a planned 7 that will take us through Tatara’s own transformation and journey through tragedy that led him to become the man we all know and fear. I hope you enjoy!

Red Lotus Blooms

Chapter 1: A Rite of Passage

Splish.

A ripple broke out across the water as the tail struck the surface, far from its target. Frowning, the boy readied his kagune and tried again.

Splish.

Again the fat catfish darted nimbly away from the spearhead of the serpent’s path. This was beginning to get annoying. With all the force a child could muster, he raised his bikaku and launched a ferocious attack on the pond, striking the water over and over and kicking up a torrent that gurgled over the pond walls.

Splash splash splash splash splash splash splash.

As the catfish that were caught in the onslaught slowly rose to the surface of the water, a gleam of hope was shining in the boy’s red eyes as he scanned the water’s surface to find the old king of the pond floating amongst the red lotus flowers – only to find him swimming along merrily beyond his reach. His face grew red with fury, and with a stamp of his foot he sunk into a sulk on the ground, before he heard footsteps ringing out on the cobbles of the courtyard.

“Oh – Tatara, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Tatara turned to the sound of his brother’s voice. Yan, never one for smiling, was looking down at him beneath his short fringe of white hair with an especially serious look on his square, pale face. Tatara could not help but look up in curiosity. Instead of his usual business suit, he was in his long white cloak, the one with broad sleeves edged with red flames. In their Yangshuo country retreat he was free to wear whatever he wanted, but he rarely wore it outside of ceremony or official Chi She Lian business. Tatara felt a little underdressed in his green pyjamas. Still, his brother was ten years his elder and a grown-up, and he knew better than to hassle him with silly questions.

“I couldn’t get to sleep. I was bored, and I never get to use my kagune in the city.”

Yan slowly nodded his head. “And Fei? Where is she?”

“In bed.”

“She didn’t want to come with you?”

“She did, but I said she couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“She likes the catfish.”

Yan cast a dead eye over the floating corpses in the pond. “And you don’t, I take it?”

“I don’t hate them. I just like killing them.” Tatara wiped his messy white fringe out of his eyes as his face crumpled back into a grimace. “But I can’t get the fat one. I don’t get it. He’s fat and old, so why is he so fast?”

Yan stepped onto the grass and leaned over the pond. Shortly, he spotted the culprit. “Oh, yes, him. He’s been in this household longer than I have. I remember sitting exactly where you are now when I was your age, studying how the fish moved. He was not quite so obese back then, nor so ancient, but I remember thinking something similar before I had a – a minor revelation of sorts, I suppose. The oldest and fattest fish in the pond would have to be the fastest, in order to be the oldest and fattest. Do you understand?”

Tatara looked at Yan with the sense of confused wonderment he often felt around him. “No.” He admitted sheepishly. Yan’s eyes began to lazily follow the evasive fish through the water.

“You see, Tatara, the fat fish becomes fat by eating the most feed, correct? Then how does it get to the feed before the other fish? By outswimming them. Likewise, the old fish grows old by swimming away from danger. You are far from the first bored child to try hunting our little pets.”

Tatara’s pensive face took the form of a deep frown. “So I won’t be able to hit it?”

“Come now, I never said that. How have you been aiming at him? Wait, let me guess. You’ve been relying on brute force, haven’t you?”

Tatara’s mouth had shut as soon as he opened it. He did not like it when Yan read him like that. It made him feel stupid.

“A strong kagune is a valuable thing, and without it, we Ghouls have little chance of catching any prey more serious than your average commuter. You have a powerful kagune, Tatara, and you should take pride in that. However, it is not enough to take down the craftiest of foes. That requires another discipline altogether.” Yan tapped the side of his head as he said “Patience.”

“It’s no fun if I have to wait around.” Tatara complained.

“You may not always have the luxury of killing for sport alone. Sometimes we must kill to keep what is precious to us. You are a child now, but first and foremost, you are a part of Chi She Lian. Never forget that.”

Yan’s lazy glance at the fish hardened into a penetrating stare. Tatara felt uneasy watching Yan become so still, as if his brother had frozen in time, until all of a sudden he saw his brother’s eyes change hue and felt something rushed past him. Tatara doubled backwards, and heard a light splish.

The boy stared up at his brother. The red irises shining over his pitch black eyes were cool. Protruding from underneath his cloak a thick crimson tail was swaying slowly back and forth, its end sharpened to a point. Tatara wondered when he had released his kagune, but then realised the more important matter at hand. He shot up, clutched the stone wall of the pond with a tight grasp, trembled with anticipation, and stared at the water as something broke the surface. The fat fish was turned upside down and floated on the water’s edge, motionless.

“You-you got him!” Tatara’s eyes shone wide and unbelieving. “Brother, that’s amazing! Even though he was the fastest, you got him in one go.” He turned to his older brother, awestruck. “How did you do it?”

Yan’s face did not betray a smile. Yan’s face never betrayed anything, but if Tatara had to guess, he would have said that if anything, his brother looked somewhat sad. “Simply a matter of technique.” He shrugged. “Still, I could never have brought him down in his prime. He was a victim of his own success, I suppose. I may not be the oldest and fattest fish in my pond, but a rebel is always an upstart before he is a king. That, and I think that I would be right in saying that Ghouls are substantially stronger than fish.” Yan brought his finger to his chin in a manner of mock pensiveness.

Laughter did not come easily to Tatara, but there was something about Yan’s dead serious face as he said this that made him let out a light chuckle. “Then I want to be a king someday too.” Tatara boldly declared, lips twisting upwards into a wicked smile. “And I won’t get hit. No matter who tries to get me, I’ll always dodge.”

“Ah, it seems I have created a young rival for myself then. It should keep my blade from becoming dull, at least.” He paused, and gave Tatara a long, searching look. “Do you mean what you say, Tatara? Do you really wish to rise to the top?”

“Yes!” He nodded aggressively. “I’ll be the strongest Ghoul in China!”

“And do you mean to do your duty by Chi She Lian? One day, the organisation will fall to me. That day may even be very soon. When that day comes, can I trust you to be my kagune?”

Tatara faltered. “Your kagune?”

“I must be the face of not only Chi She Lian, but also of the Huo family. As you put it, I will have many people trying to ‘get’ me. I need a subtle, fast and strong agent of my own flesh and blood to dispose of them before they can dispose of me. If I am to be the head of Chi She Lian, I want you to be its kagune. Will you accept this proposal?”

Yan had used a lot of big and complicated words, but the message was clear – Yan was placing his faith in him, and that was something he did not give out easily. “I would be honoured.” He readily affirmed, in the manner his parents had taught him.

Yan gave him a last long stare and finally breathed out a quiet sigh. “I was going to send you to bed, Tatara, but I think it might be better if you are here to see this. Father and mother are inside?” Yan tilted his head towards the manor house at the end of the courtyard.

Tatara nodded. “Did you want to talk to them, brother?” His face suddenly filled with dread. “Don’t tell them about the fish, please. They’ll beat me. Say it was a kitchen boy.”

Yan seemed vaguely surprised at that. “You’ve no need to worry on that count, Tatara, I swear it. Are they awake?”

Tatara shook his head. “I think they’re sleeping.”

“Sleeping. Yes, they would be.” An edge of ice had crept into his voice, but it softened back to its usual hardness when he turned to Tatara again. “Wait for me here. If you feel as though you are in immediate danger, retreat to the outer courtyard, but otherwise do not move and do not turn away. Do you understand?”

Tatara was beginning to feel a little nervous, but he did not want to let Yan see, so he said, perhaps a little too boldly, “Loud and clear.”

“Until then.” Yan’s hand passed over Tatara’s head as he talked to the armed guards and headed into the manor house. Tatara watched as he disappeared behind the door, crumpled his white cloak together in his hands and stood silently, waiting.

For the longest time, there was no change in the manor house. Tatara was beginning to feel a little bored, and wanted to go back to his fish game, but Yan had told him not to turn away. He sat cross-legged on the ground and stared at the house, allowing himself to get lost in childish thoughts. He wondered if Fei would snitch on him about the fish. She wouldn’t though, she knows that if she did she wouldn’t get away with it. Tatara gave a self-satisfied smirk. A ‘king’, he said? Nobody could tell a king what to do. A king could do whatever he wanted. If he had that kind of power, what could he do with it?

“Fire! Fire!” Came a shout from inside the house, bringing Tatara’s ruminations to an abrupt halt and replacing them with a sudden dread. The manor house was made entirely from wood. Father, mother and Yan were in there. He needed to help them. He needed to do something quickly; so why wouldn’t his legs move? No matter how he tried to move them, they just wouldn’t budge. What was happening?

The guards left the doorway and sprinted into the house in a mad rush to save their masters. No-one noticed the child standing petrified in the courtyard. The fire was spreading - he could already see the flames escaping the windows and setting the front of the house ablaze. Why couldn’t he move?  He just needed to move his legs forward, that was all. But…but Yan had told him to stay right there. Even if he could move, Yan had given him an order not to. He could see red, orange and yellow bursting up in a voracious fury around his parents’ house, cackling with malice at the dying screams of the wood. Great plumes of black smoke wafted towards him from the windows, and Tatara managed to manoeuvre an elbow in front of his mouth so he wouldn’t choke, although his eyes still began to sting. Yan had said if he was in ‘immediate danger’ he should run to the outer courtyard. Tatara wasn’t quite sure what the word ‘immediate’ meant, but he knew Yan was saying that he shouldn’t run unless he was really badly in danger. The fire was scary, but it was only on the house. The courtyard was stone, and Tatara knew enough of science to know that it couldn’t spread any further. So Tatara resigned himself to his semi-paralysis, and forced himself to watch as the flames grew louder, larger and more luminous while shouts and unearthly screams echoed from inside.

Tatara didn’t like this at all. The scent of burning wood permeated his nostrils and in the light warmth the fire emanated from his safe distance, it would have felt just like being in front of a hearth if he did not know his family was mixed in amongst the coals. He felt so useless, but he didn’t know what he should do, and before he knew it, he was crying. It was the smoke. It had to be the smoke. He wiped his tears from his cheeks as soon as they spilt, knowing how disappointed Father, Mother and Yan would be if they saw him.

…Would they ever see him again?

The guards had not returned. No-one who went into that house all that time ago had come out of it, and through the dissipating smoke, Tatara could see the manor had become a burning wreck. The upstairs had caved in on the downstairs, and the roof had collapsed to diagonal slant, slowly falling through the structure of the house. Tatara had long stopped crying. He could now only stare at the fallen building with empty confusion. Somehow, he thought this might be his fault.

The silence was broken when for the first time in too long Tatara could spy a silhouette inside the house shambling towards the doorway. It was a tall, strong figure, and Tatara knew who it was before Yan stepped out into the open air, broken, bruised and bleeding. Tatara still couldn’t move. He found he couldn’t even speak. Yan let out some fierce coughs, and then said something unintelligible behind a hoarse, smoke-choked voice. He extended a hand towards Tatara and repeated it.

“…Yan?” Tatara managed in a quiet whisper.

Yan spoke the unknown phrase again, and again, and again until Tatara could understand it, and still after that. He said it like a mantra as Tatara helped him move across the cobbled stones to the end of the courtyard, desperately holding Yan’s full weight over his frail body, as he struggled to make sense of the world around him.

“It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.”

[earthenthoughts]

Demacian Lore Update: Shyvana

A Familiar Face, But Unfamiliar Eyes

Shyvana, the Half-Dragon, ranks at the top of my favored characters in League of Legends. I often do not have the means to play her, as I despise the jungle and she doesn't exist in top lane anymore, but when is available, I do enjoy it. Thus, with great interest, I turned my attention to her lore update for Demacia and … found myself looking at someone unfamiliar. I tried to convince myself it was the same character, but, ultimately I cannot. I've been prodded to my reasoning why, and here we are.

  In original lore, Shyvana is the product of a dragon father and human mother. Though not stated implicitly, I've often perceived this as a very loving union of two sapient beings crossing the boundary of species. A controversial idea to be certain, but one ripe with meaning, societal commentary, and a heap of other thought provoking ideas. What follows is Shyvana's brutal rejection by both worlds, and her struggle to not only survive, but find a meaning and place in life. An older dragon, offended at her existence, is ultimately responsible for the death of her parents, but their conflict is what leads her to Jarvan IV and Demacia. Together, through battle, they forge a friendship (arguably, even a kinship), and Shyvana finds someone who may open the door to the belonging she'd long to find. The struggle remains, of course, as the world at large still wants to tear her down.

A half-breed born from the union between dragon and human, Shyvana searched all her life for belonging. Persecution forged her into a brutal warrior, and those who dare stand against Shyvana face the fiery beast lurking just beneath her skin.

Dragonkind considered Shyvana's impure blood an abomination, and she spent her youth pursued relentlessly by one cruel drake. Constantly on the run, she and her father, an outcast dragon, never knew a lasting home. A brutal reflection of countless battles, Shyvana grew hateful and savage. After years of strife, her father finally fell to the other dragon, but not before gravely wounding his foe. Furious with grief, Shyvana pursued her father's murderer as he fled north to recover. There she encountered a group of humans on the trail of the same drake. Though the men looked upon her in fear, their leader approached Shyvana peacefully. He introduced himself as Jarvan IV, the Prince of Demacia, and offered to aid Shyvana in her quest for vengeance. Together they hunted down and confronted the vicious dragon that had slain her father. Shyvana did not expect the men to survive, but in the clash of fire and steel, Jarvan and his men fought with strength she had never believed humans to possess. The ironclad warriors drove their foe into submission, and Shyvana struck the final blow, tearing the beast's heart from its body. Inspired by her ferocity, Jarvan offered her a place in the ranks of his elite guard. Shyvana could still see fear in the eyes of his men, but she longed for a true home. Trusting Jarvan's word, she accepted his offer and now serves as a Demacian warrior. Though her human allies admire her power, they keep their distance. Shyvana strives to repay the prince's kindness with the power of the dragon within, but she cannot help but wonder if the humans are right to fear her.

''I have proven my might to dragonkind – what challenge shall humans pose?'' — Shyvana

  The new lore, for the most part, mirrors almost all these details with a dragon nemesis, finding Jarvan IV and Demacia, etcetra … except the very, very beginning, the very foundation. The thing that really makes Shyvana a 'half-dragon' and a dragon-woman caught between two worlds. In this version, Shyvana isn't the product of love of two sapient beings, but rather, the corruption of a full dragon's egg by a human mage.

  The interminable mysteries of dragons confound and elude all theories. Those who study the subject speak of ancient, elemental runes split between dragon bloodlines, fractions passing from female dragons into their firstborn daughters. These shards instill the dragon that bears it with potent magic of wind, earth, water or fire.

One such dragon egg nested deep within an equatorial volcano, pulsed with the faint echoes of a fire rune. Drawn by its power, a daring mage attempted to extract its runic magicks, only to be interrupted by the dragon mother’s return. The mage fled, having unknowingly infused the egg with his own mortal magic in the chaos. The dragon mother, Yvva, marveled at the fiery energy swirling beneath the shell, oblivious to the alloyed magic within. She and her mate planned to name their progeny Shyvana to honor Yvva’s legacy.

The blood moon of autumn gave way to winter and the egg finally hatched, revealing a human infant with violet skin. As the child took her first breath and began to cry, her body shook and rippled, taking the form of a dragon. Yvva recoiled at the hybrid abomination and sought to kill her child – she would not allow such an unnatural thing to pollute her bloodline. But her mate could not allow Shyvana’s murder, and after a ferocious battle, Shyvana’s father fled with the newborn in tow.

For years, Shyvana and her father flew from place to place to escape Yvva’s vengeance.

As Shyvana grew, she struggled to control her tempestuous emotions and volatile power.

Her father helped temper her dragon side, which unleashed a ruthless fury she had inherited from her mother. While in her humanoid form, Shyvana suffered numerous self-inflicted burns as she learned that life could be fragile and not everything could be set aflame without consequence. Occasionally, her dragonfyre activated the runic echo within her, an echo that was intrinsically linked to her mother.

As Shyvana’s power grew in strength, Yvva was able to sense her daughter’s presence from afar. She found the child alone and taunted Shyvana with tales of her origin, revealing that her true father was a feeble human who had twisted her noble draconic lineage into a disgusting perversion. Her mother would undo what should never have been brought to life, and attacked. Young Shyvana defended herself, but suffered many wounds before her father arrived to save her. He fought with savage fury to give Shyvana time to escape, showing no mercy or restraint to his former mate.

Ultimately, he succumbed to the heat of Yvva’s dragonfyre and was slain.

As Shyvana grieved, she fled in search of a strange land her father had told stories of – a place awash with petricite, stones of nullifying power that diminished any nearby magic.

When she reached the outer territories of Demacia, she knew she had discovered what she sought. The land itself felt heavy and oppressive, making it difficult to wield her runic powers, and Shyvana found it easier to remain in human form. Here, she hoped she could mask her magic enough to hide from her mother.

While hunting for fresh meat, Shyvana followed the scent of blood and came upon an injured warrior named Jarvan near death in the wilds. Though her predatory instincts told her to finish him, her human side recognized that he needed her help. No one was likely to find him in the remote hills of greater Demacia, and he would die without aid.

Shyvana carried the semi-conscious Jarvan to the nearest town, despite her fear that she’d be met with the same disdain she’d encountered all her life. To her surprise, the locals welcomed her to their town and thanked her for helping the soldier. She saw how the villagers pulled together to nurse Jarvan back to health, even though he was a stranger, and Shyvana observed something she’d never known: comradery. Demacians looked out for each other, she learned, and the more she saw of the community, the more she longed to be part of it.

For months, Shyvana lived in peace, hunting wild boars and white elk by day, and returning to the village with her spoils to share by night. She learned that Jarvan had been a prisoner of a neighboring realm and escaped his captors, but felt unworthy of returning to his life in the capital.

One evening, Shyvana heard the sound of leathery wings beating in the distance, and knew her mother had come for her once more. The great dragon ravaged the land in search of Shyvana, burning towns and fields with her flaming breath. Jarvan led the panicked villagers to Castle Wrenwall, a high-walled stronghold where they could shelter behind its stone walls.

Knowing her presence would only harm those she had come to care for, Shyvana decided to return to the wilderness. Jarvan confronted her as she prepared to leave, and she ruefully admitted that she was a half-drake, and the root of her dragon mother’s furious wrath. Jarvan refused to let her leave – she had saved his life, so he would lay down his to defend hers. Jarvan proposed they fight Yvva together. With the support of the local villagers and Wrenwall’s soldiers, he was convinced they could defeat the monster.

Moved by his concern for her safety, Shyvana accepted his offer.

After Jarvan had trained the townsfolk to fight alongside the soldiers of Wrenwall, Shyvana entered a nearby ruin built from ancient petricite, shivering as the nullifying stones suppressed her powers. The soldiers and villagers hid themselves nearby as piercing horns grew from Shyvana’s forehead and she erupted into a scarlet-winged drake. She roared, shooting plumes of fire into the sky to lure her mother to the ground.

Shyvana heard the telltale beating of ancient wings as Yvva approached. Upon her mother’s arrival, soldiers loosed volleys of arrows tipped with petricite to weaken her.

The great dragon retaliated with tearing claws and roaring torrents of flame that roasted scores of soldiers in their armor. At Jarvan’s command, the villagers continued their barrage of attacks as yet more nullifying arrows pierced the dragon mother’s flesh, anchoring her to the ruins below.

Shyvana stood before her mother in proud defiance, but Yvva only laughed; she had always underestimated her daughter's wrath. Tooth and claw tore flesh from bone as the two dragons clashed in a titanic battle, crushing the foundations of the ruins to dust.

Shyvana ripped Yvva's wing from her back, but her mother locked Shyvana's neck between her razor-sharp jaws. Blood streamed from Shyvana's collarbone, and she collapsed into her human form.

As Yvva loomed over her daughter, ready to end the life she had begun, Shyvana channeled all her grief and fury, and summoned the power of the fire rune within her blood. She dug her claws into her mother's flesh and tore the living heart from her chest.

As Yvva’s lifeblood drained, Shyvana felt no mercy, and roared in triumph.

Before the entire village, Jarvan honored Shyvana’s bravery, declaring that she would always have a home in Demacia. For the first time, Shyvana knew she belonged to something greater than herself, and, thanks to Jarvan, understood that Demacia’s strength was its unity of purpose. She was humbled, and in turn swore her service to Jarvan, offering to fight alongside him no matter his path.

With the great dragon destroyed, Jarvan’s faith in his ability to lead was restored, and he felt he could return to his home city. Shyvana returned to the capital with him, and they bore her mother’s skull as a reminder of their incredible triumph. Shyvana knew Demacia could be dangerous for someone as magical as her, but she had never felt a greater sense of belonging.

In the capital, Shyvana remains in her purple-skinned humanoid form as she defends her adoptive home, though every so often, she escapes into the wild to spread her wings. She proudly serves Demacia, but knows that someday she must answer the runic call that burns within her heart.

  Hence, when reading both, you'll find a lot of overlap (and a lot of development on many details), so almost everything is 'good to go', except the little detail at the beginning. The implication from the writing team is that Shyvana is still, somehow, a half-dragon by virtue of her embyronic self becoming corrupted by a human's (unwitting) influence. In essence, she is more literally a direct abomination, as the implication of crossbreeding by humans and dragons is gone. Under this light, one can understand her dragon mother's perception of her dangerous existence–Runeterra is a land of magic, so what foul forces have mutated her child beyond recognition? When the likes of the vast undead, and an empire hellbent on global conquest with all sorts of dark sorcery, it's not unimaginable for dragons to be afraid of their own powerful selves being bent to serve such evil ambitions.

Thus, the answer to her story dilemma is not 'decide on her place in the world', though Riot writes like it is, but rather, to 'purge the corruption within'. Shyvana herself may operate under the idea she has a place to find, but the shadow of that reality will almost always hang over her and the story she is in. The end results of this appear the same between the old lore and new lore, but the functional reality is a league apart from each other.

  Thus, I don't get it.

  I literally don't understand the purpose of taking this incredibly unnecessary turn around to who she is, to somehow try and match what she was, but change such a significant detail like it's nothing.

A fear of the implication that a dragon and a human banged? I mean, we could point fingers to the number of actual real-life mythologies and articles of fantasy that has this stuff in spades. Sure, a lot of it's horrible, but there's a lot of good, as well. Does this fact somehow make it significant enough to turn to a corruption theme? I struggle to see it so, but perhaps.

Otherwise, I draw a blank to the usefulness of this idea. Maintaining her prior family status (you could switch the mother or father as the dragon, her voice over will have to get updated regardless) is … perfectly fine. You can quite literally write it like this:

  The interminable mysteries of dragons confound and elude all theories. Those who study the subject speak of ancient, elemental runes split between dragon bloodlines, fractions passing from female dragons into their firstborn daughters. These shards instill the dragon that bears it with potent magic of wind, earth, water or fire.

In normal ways, these runes pass through the eggs of the mother dragon, as it always has. Yet, this is not the only way. For one dragon, Yvva, she would stumble upon this secretive truth through the blinding guise of love. A human in a village near her den, the once-Chieftan's son, now himself the chieftain, caught her eye with his wondrous art and joyful personality. Though their first meeting was quite the fright, Yvva would come to visit the human much, share with him her vast knowledge of lands, and he would entertain her with his own charming devices. In him, she found a fiery soul that gave her a companionship unlike any other dragon.

A yearning to be closer drew them ever together, and Yvva entertained magics she had once left behind. Through the arcane, her towering form shrunk and twisted, adopting the guise of a human … for however much dragon still showed. The boiling tension between the two of them finally found its release, and the love between them stunned even the village. A child would come from this unlikely union, and confined to her humanoid-form to bear it, Yvva and her human mate lived in seclusion. He would suggest a mixing of names as humans did, and they choose Shyvana to honor Yvva's legacy.

The blood moon of autumn gave way to winter and the child was born, revealing a human infant with violet skin. As the child took her first breath and began to cry, her body shook and rippled, taking the form of a dragon. Though frightful of the strange child, the parents calmed her eventually, finding pride in their newborn. Yet, with such a birth came the unwitting cry of the fire rune within, and another dragon would answer it's distorted call.

Fomgoul, old and wise, took to the skies, and by the month had found the two and their abominable offspring.

A terrible battle was fought, destroying the village Yvva and her human lived in. As she brought the elder dragon to a standstill, Shyvana's father would bid Yvva and their child to escape. Wielding powers, however dim and fractured they were, he learned from Yvva, he bought the two time enough to escape before succumbing to dragonfire.

For years, Shyvana and her mother flew from place to place to escape Fomgoul's hatred.

As Shyvana grew, she struggled to control her tempetuous emotions and volatile power.

Her mother helped temper her dragon side, which unleashed a ruthless fury her mother and her mother's mother carried within. While in her humanoid form, Shyvana suffered numerous self-inflicted burns as she learned that life could be fragile and not everything could be set aflame without consequence. Occasionally, her dragonfire activated the runic echo within her, an echo that was intrinsically called to dragons.

As Shyvana’s power grew in strength, Fomgoul was able to sense her presence from afar. He found the child alone and taunted Shyvana with tales of her origin, revealing that her true father was a feeble human who had twisted her noble draconic lineage into a disgusting perversion. He would undo what should never have been brought to life, and attacked. Young Shyvana defended herself, but suffered many wounds before her mother arrived to save her. She fought with savage fury to give Shyvana time to escape, showing no mercy or restraint in the wild fight for her child.

Ultimately, not even she could overcome the elder dragon, and Yvva was slain.

As Shyvana grieved, she fled in search of a strange land her mother had told stories of – a place awash with petricite, stones of nullifying power that diminished any nearby magic.

When she reached the outer territories of Demacia, she knew she had discovered what she sought. The land itself felt heavy and oppressive, making it difficult to wield her runic powers, and Shyvana found it easier to remain in human form. Here, she hoped she could mask her magic enough to hide from her mother.

While hunting for fresh meat, Shyvana followed the scent of blood and came upon an injured warrior named Jarvan near death in the wilds. Though her predatory instincts told her to finish him, her human side recognized that he needed her help. No one was likely to find him in the remote hills of greater Demacia, and he would die without aid.

Shyvana carried the semi-conscious Jarvan to the nearest town, despite her fear that she’d be met with the same disdain she’d encountered all her life. To her surprise, the locals welcomed her to their town and thanked her for helping the soldier. She saw how the villagers pulled together to nurse Jarvan back to health, even though he was a stranger, and Shyvana observed something she’d never known: comradery. Demacians looked out for each other, she learned, and the more she saw of the community, the more she longed to be part of it.

For months, Shyvana lived in peace, hunting wild boars and white elk by day, and returning to the village with her spoils to share by night. She learned that Jarvan had been a prisoner of a neighboring realm and escaped his captors, but felt unworthy of returning to his life in the capital.

One evening, Shyvana heard the sound of leathery wings beating in the distance, and knew Fomgoul had come for her once more. The great dragon ravaged the land in search of Shyvana, burning towns and fields with his flaming breath. Jarvan led the panicked villagers to Castle Wrenwall, a high-walled stronghold where they could shelter behind its stone walls.

Knowing her presence would only harm those she had come to care for, Shyvana decided to return to the wilderness. Jarvan confronted her as she prepared to leave, and she ruefully admitted that she was a half-drake, and the root of her dragon mother’s furious wrath. Jarvan refused to let her leave – she had saved his life, so he would lay down his to defend hers. Jarvan proposed they fight Fomgoul together. With the support of the local villagers and Wrenwall’s soldiers, he was convinced they could defeat the monster.

Moved by his concern for her safety, Shyvana accepted his offer.

After Jarvan had trained the townsfolk to fight alongside the soldiers of Wrenwall, Shyvana entered a nearby ruin built from ancient petricite, shivering as the nullifying stones suppressed her powers. The soldiers and villagers hid themselves nearby as piercing horns grew from Shyvana’s forehead and she erupted into a scarlet-winged drake. She roared, shooting plumes of fire into the sky to lure the elder dragon to the ground.

Shyvana heard the telltale beating of ancient wings as Fomgoul approached. Upon the elder dragon's arrival, soldiers loosed volleys of arrows tipped with petricite to weaken him.

The great dragon retaliated with tearing claws and roaring torrents of flame that roasted scores of soldiers in their armor. At Jarvan’s command, the villagers continued their barrage of attacks as yet more nullifying arrows pierced the dragon’s flesh, anchoring him to the ruins below.

Shyvana stood before the elder dragon in proud defiance, but Fomgoul only laughed; his own arrogance proved his greatest enemy, not her. Tooth and claw tore flesh from bone as the two dragons clashed in a titanic battle, crushing the foundations of the ruins to dust.

Shyvana ripped Fomgoul's wing from his back, but the elder dragon locked Shyvana's neck between his razor-sharp jaws. Blood streamed from Shyvana's collarbone, and she collapsed into her human form.

As Fomgoul loomed over her, ready to end the half-breed's miserable life, Shyvana channeled all her grief and fury, and summoned the power of the fire rune within her blood. She dug her claws into the elder dragon's flesh and tore the living heart from his chest.

As Fomgoul’s lifeblood drained, Shyvana felt only the thrill of the kill, and roared in triumph.

Before the entire village, Jarvan honored Shyvana’s bravery, declaring that she would always have a home in Demacia. For the first time, Shyvana knew she belonged to something greater than herself, and, thanks to Jarvan, understood that Demacia’s strength was its unity of purpose. She was humbled, and in turn swore her service to Jarvan, offering to fight alongside him no matter his path.

With the great dragon destroyed, Jarvan’s faith in his ability to lead was restored, and he felt he could return to his home city. Shyvana returned to the capital with him, and they bore her mother’s skull as a reminder of their incredible triumph. Shyvana knew Demacia could be dangerous for someone as magical as her, but she had never felt a greater sense of belonging.

In the capital, Shyvana remains in her purple-skinned humanoid form as she defends her adoptive home, though every so often, she escapes into the wild to spread her wings. She proudly serves Demacia, but knows that someday she must answer the runic call that burns within her heart.

  I question the whole 'mothers pass power to their first born female child', but I guess that's some great mystery detail in the background they made. Nonetheless, adjustments are easy and repair her lore to its original self while also updating the context of her story significantly. Literally most of the work I just did was the first 4 paragraphs, and switching out Yvva for Fomgoul (or any choice of dragon here) as the main conflict bad guy. I debated making her human father the one to try and teach her, but that ultimately would promise to change too much of her thinking later, I believe. Still, this should sufficiently demonstrate the tonal changes and implications in the lore. In this edited version, her true half-breed status remains, along with all the potential and conflict behind it. The corruption plotline is gone, and … well, what do you think is lost by that fact?

Demacian Lore Update: Shyvana was originally published on Earthen Thoughts

[elesianne]

A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter one

Here’s the first chapter of my new story that I had tremendous fun writing although I also almost made myself cry once. It starts out relatively happy and gets more and more miserable as I tear apart a happy relationship I established in an earlier fic. There will be four chapters in all.

Story summary: Curufinwë and his wife burn as one flame, but when darkness creeps in nothing is left but embers and then ashes.

A study of the disintegration of one marriage among the downfall of the Noldor as a people.

Tag-type thingies (for the whole story): relationships: Curufin | Curufinwë/Canonical wife, as well as various family relationships; some keywords: darkening of Valinor, flight of the Noldor, married couple, love, heartbreak, angst, hurt/comfort, then just hurt, sucks to be Celebrimbor

Warnings (for the whole story): Some sexual content, references to violence, emotional distress and cruelty, canonical major character death(s). Also: so much angst in later chapters, excessive metaphors about fire and light. Rating: I rate this story as Mature to be on the safe side. I chose it because of the general dark mood of the story; sex and violence is very shortly described, nothing graphic. 

(Also posted on AO3, DeviantArt and FF.net because I’m overly thorough.)

Story notes: Build them up then tear them down, that's the Tolkien way, isn't it? I'm following that proud tradition with this four-part fic about the disintegration of Curufin and Netyarë's marriage, the happy beginnings of which I have written about before - this fic should work as a standalone, though. This time the story is told from Netyarë's point of view while trying to also portray Curufinwë relatively sympathetically.

I aimed to be as canon-compliant as possible: relevant to this story is a note about Celebrimbor in HoME XII: '--- though inheriting [Curufin's] skills he was an Elf of wholly different temper (his mother had refused to take part in the rebellion of Fëanor and remained in Aman with the people of Finarphin)'.

Chapter 1 summary: Great disasters begin from small cracks in beautiful things.

*

Chapter I // White fire

Happiness, Netyarë comes to realise when it is already slipping through her fingers, is something one should never take for granted. When she married Curufinwë, and when Tyelperinquar was born, she was happier than she could ever have imagined possible, and for a little while she remembered to appreciate it for the precious thing it was.

Then happiness became an everyday emotion and she began to think, or rather subconsciously believe, that her life would always be as happy, that she and her husband would always love each other and find great pleasure in acts of love and that they would have more children to treasure, and that is when the happiness starts to crack.

It is just little cracks at first. Curufinwë being more short-tempered with her than usual, being stricter with Tyelpë than the boy deserves, the occasional uncomfortable silences at their shared meals instead of easy conversation, her not wanting to tell him of her day because he looks like he would not be interested in listening, but afterwards finding him displeased that he had not known something. There are fewer of his grins for her to kiss, as she likes to do, and fewer of her smiles are genuine.

Curufinwë and Netyarë have always understood each other very well in spite of their different family backgrounds, his in royalty and hers in trade. They both have passion and ambition for creating beautiful things and gaining renown for it, they both know how to charm and influence people though they do it in different ways, and he can see when there is distress behind her practised smile as easily as she can recognise the heat of anger or passion that he hides in his cool, controlled gaze.

But there are things she does not understand. His arrogant pride in his bloodline, his unwavering conviction that his family deserves unquestioning respect, his loyalty to his father even when he knows Fëanáro is in the wrong. These things are difficult for her to comprehend because she comes from a family that is completely undistinguished in either greatness or wretchedness, and while she loves her parents and her brother she is not as close to any of them as Curufinwë is to his father.

Even when she does recognise why he feels and acts as he does – what aspects of his character, what experiences and opinions his deeds arise from – she finds it difficult to accept that he cannot choose to act otherwise.

On good days these things do not matter, but in darker times they open a wide gulf between them that neither knows how to cross. She does not understand him, and he thinks it must be for want of trying.

*

The bad days between the two of them start with the Silmarils, as so many things do.

Even before Fëanáro shuts himself alone in his forge, Curufinwë has known without being told that his father is planning something greater than anything that has come before, something he is devoting all of his fire to create. Curufinwë has been grieved by the friction that has come between his parents recently when Fëanáro has heeded Nerdanel's advice less and less, and he is further grieved that his father does not share with him this new project of passion.

The day Fëanáro bars Curufinwë from the workshop as he embarks on his new project Curufinwë comes home in the middle of the day and also shuts himself alone in his study, refusing to talk with either his wife or son. But when it is time to go to bed he paces around the bedroom and words pour out of him, almost as if against his will.

'I understand that he would not want the apprentices or my brothers around; they can be nothing but a distraction when there is difficult work to be done. But I have never got in his way or hindered him in any way. I am always willing to work together with him, or if I am not skilled enough, to act as an assistant, or just watch. But now he shuts even me out and will not even hear me, and I don't understand.'

Netyarë is glad that her husband is telling her about the cause of his distress, but she does not know how to help him. She has always been just as happy to work alone as with others, and though she was apprenticed in her youth, she has never had someone even close to what Fëanáro is to Curufinwë. And she feels like she has never come to understand her father-in-law, similar in nature to her husband though he may be. She is very close with Nerdanel, but Fëanáro is still a mystery to her, one she thinks is too great for her to ever solve. Not that she is certain she would like to; he scares her just a little bit, though she wouldn't admit it.

(Curufinwë is his father's son, much of the same furious white fire burning inside him, but it has never hurt Netyarë because when she is with him she finds flames inside herself too that she never really knew were there.)

She tries to find the positive in this new development and to use it to comfort her husband, so she tells Curufinwë that perhaps he should see Fëanáro's isolation as an opportunity to pursue some projects of his own that he has been thinking about but pushed aside to concentrate on work his father wants to do. This turns out to be entirely the wrong thing to say.

Eyes flaming, Curufinwë begins to speak. 'You –' He swallows, clenches his fists and looks at her for a moment, his eyes unreadable though she can feel his fury in her own spirit. He storms out and does not return until the next evening.

He apologises to her without either of them knowing exactly what it is that he is apologising for, and she forgives him, though she thinks she will be cautious for a while. A little crack has appeared in her trust that she  is capable of understanding him, and in her trust in the strength of their relationship.

They discover passion in the void left by the passing of anger, as they often do. After, when she lies with her head on his chest and strokes his hair that is tangled with her own, black amidst brown, she thinks of how fiercely sweet it is to come together after being sundered by disagreement. She wonders if those couples who never fight ever have anything like this, a passion that burns so hot she marvels at not finding her skin singed.

The next morning when they rise at the same time she finds bruises on her arms and hips and sees deep scratch marks on his back, and she wonders if after all it would be better, safer, if they did not burn quite so hot together.

But Curufinwë seems a little calmer now, and no longer speaks of sorrows. He dedicates himself to teaching Tyelperinquar while Fëanáro works alone on his secret endeavour. To Netyarë it seems like her husband is suddenly determined to make sure that Tyelpë misses nothing that he could teach, to prove that he is willing to share all he knows and to involve his son in all his projects even if his own father does not do the same with him.

Netyarë is glad that Curufinwë found something meaningful to pursue while he does not work with his father, and that he is taking such pains to teach their son. But after a while Tyelpë begins to look pale and tired when he comes home from the workshop with his father at night, and a few times he almost falls asleep into his food at dinner.

She tells Curufinwë that he is driving their son too hard, setting too quick a pace for his learning. 'He is still just a child, Curvo, however talented or smart he may be.'

'He has not complained.'

'You know that would not be like him. He is proud that you are teaching him, and eager to do his best, but it does not mean that you aren't putting too much pressure on him.'

It is one of their after-dinner moments when they each work on their own projects, usually engaged in planning for the future or making notes on the past day's work. Tyelperinquar often joins them to study for a while, but on this night as on many nights recently Netyarë has sent him straight to bed after dinner because he seemed so exhausted.

Curufinwë never takes well to being told he is doing something wrong. 'I think I know how to raise my son, Netyarë.'

'He is our son, not yours. Just because Tyelpë is a boy, and takes more after you in his skills and interests, does not mean that I have any less claim on him or any less say in how he is raised.' She has never had to say these things before. 'I thought you agreed with me on this.'

'I do.' He drops his head to his arms, suddenly looking as exhausted as Tyelperinquar had. 'I am sorry, beloved. I will try to be more patient.'

He does try, and Tyelpë does look less overworked after their conversation, and Netyarë tries to remember this when later things turn worse again.

*

Fëanáro's secret work takes a long time, but when he finally shows it – first to his family, as is his habit with all his creations – it is greater than anyone could have imagined. In their brilliance the Silmarils far surpass all of Fëanáro's earlier works, indeed all the works of the Noldor.

'I could not have done this', Curufinwë says to Netyarë when they have a moment of looking at the jewels alone. His voice is equal parts awe and desperation. And Netyarë hears what he does not say: But I could still have been there. I would still have helped, in whatever small way. He did not need to shut me out.

Netyarë is too awestruck to have any wise reply. 'They are all the colours at once, and yet there is no colour like theirs in the whole world.'

'No', Curufinwë agrees. 'I can fashion gems of any shade, but the light in these… it is truly the light of the Trees, and the light of the greatest spirit of our people.'

Curufinwë rarely likes his wife, or anyone else, to be aware of his moments of weakness, but Netyarë can tell that this moment is very difficult for him. He feels lost as more than ever he realises of how much less remarkable his talents are than his father's, and the feeling of loss is mingled with a resentment. He has put as much of himself in these jewels as in any of us, Curufinwë is telling her without wanting to. In me or any of my brothers.

Netyarë does not know how to console him, and in spite of the greatness of the Silmarils and the way they make her heart sing as they do to everyone who sees them, she is selfishly glad that Curufinwë is not capable of binding so much of himself into anything he creates. His creations are more of his hands than of his spirit, and he despairs for it while Netyarë is relieved that she will never lose him to his craft as Nerdanel seems to be losing Fëanáro.

*

Soon after Fëanáro's Silmarils have awed all of the Eldar and the Valar alike and been blessed by Varda, a new cause of contention arises between Curufinwë and Netyarë, its roots in wider disquiet among their people. For seemingly out of nothing, discontent arises among the Noldor. There is talk of the Valar keeping them captive here under their rule while the lands they could have ruled in the east will soon be taken over by a lesser race of second-born whom the Valar have kept secret from the Eldar.

To Netyarë it feels like the whole world has changed. All her life, all the concerns in the life of their people have been about forging one's path and finding one's own place in the world they live in, in Eldamar under the rule of the Valar; now some are questioning the rightness of the whole world order.

And chief among those who challenge the belief that all is as well as can be is Fëanáro. It comes as no surprise to Netyarë that he soon becomes the loudest voice of dissent: she knows that he is unwilling to take part in anything without being in its lead, and he is by nature disinclined to accept any authority except his own and his father's. For a time Fëanáro only voices his opinions among his family and followers, but in later years private conversations and whispered insinuations will turn into loud words out in the open.

From the first, Netyarë finds it difficult to agree with her father-in-law, and with her husband who inevitably thinks alike with his father. For to her, it seems that they have all they could need here. And she does not feel oppressed by the Valar – she does not even feel particularly ruled by them, for she has always felt the authority of King Finwë more keenly in her everyday life than that of Manwë. That has changed little after she married the king's grandson; but perhaps those who were born among the rulers of the Eldar feel differently about Valar.

Trying to understand, she asks Curufinwë what there is in the lands across the sea that cannot be had here.

'Freedom', he answers, and, 'Wider realms that we could rule on our own.'

'Do we not have freedom here?' she asks. 'And was there not death and darkness in those lands, and for that our people came here? Following your grandfather, no less.'

He looks at her a long time, weighing his words. 'Tirion may be enough for you. For some, the whole breadth of Aman is too narrow a world.'

Fëanáro has indeed travelled the breadth of Aman, explored even the least known, cold and distant corners. In youth he went alone and with Nerdanel, and later with his sons. Netyarë has also been invited on a few journeys but always chooses to stay in Tirion, where her work is. The white city of the Noldor, which she has in a small way made more beautiful with her art, is indeed enough for her.

Netyarë notices that Curufinwë said that Aman is too narrow 'for some' and knows that what he means is 'for my father, and for me'. You would be a king, my love, she thinks, but I have no desire to be a queen.

Though he studiously avoided mentioning the difference between the classes into which they were born, an unspoken awareness of it is in the air between them now after having lain near-forgotten for years.

Out of loyalty and love and any real passion for opposing opinions, she does not speak against her husband or his father in public and rarely even in private. Yet she does not change her mind, and neither does Curufinwë, and instead of keeping them together as she intends it to, her apparent acquiescence becomes an ever-widening distance between them.

She would have thought that with how even amiable conversations that the two of them have tend to grow heated and be full of sharp-edged words, any truly important difference of opinion between them would manifest itself as loud arguments. Yet it seems that the more serious their discord, the more it shows only as a freezing silence that slowly creeps from their lips into their hearts.

*

A/N: I hope that Netyarë doesn't seem out of character in this story; in Sparks fly out, which ended up being written from Curufin's point of view 90% of the time, she perhaps came off harder than I'd intended. In my head she has always been a lot warmer and kinder as a person than Curufin, though she's also sharp-tongued, and Tyelperinquar/Celebrimbor gets his gentler nature from her.

Following chapters will be longer, especially the next one that covers the many years of unrest and strife among the Noldor as Melkor spreads his malice.