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annikin-annotates · 1 year

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Within a Wing Beat - Homecoming

Hi lovelies, another chapter hot off the press. I hope ya’ll like it, please let me know! Please reblog, it helps keep my fanfiction alive!

Pairing: Aemond x Winged!Reader

Warnings: PTSD, Poor conversational skills.

Word Count: 9,199

Cluethael

Cluethael had returned from the mountainous ranges of Valkyrie Village in the late hours of the night, the sky still as black as the Strangers cloak. Her mother and sister would no doubt sniff her out soon enough, so for now she roamed the halls of what once was her home. The only ones who had been alerted of her arrival so far were a pair of guards, and a ginger mousing cat. The sudden flash of auburn gave her a start as it darted in between her legs, sending her back to that frost bitten forest, back to the screams.

Draghiem did not seem as bright or cheery as she recalled; the whole castle felt as if it was covered in a heavy shroud, it's only goal being to suffocate her. She was not the same person as she was when she last walked the halls, she was nothing more than a little girl playing at womanhood. For her, it seemed that girlhood was a matter of growing the sweetest fruits from a bittersweet poison.

“Cluethael!” A familiar voice cried, she turned around to see both her mother and sister rushing down the high arches of the hall, their house coats billowing behind them.

“Mother! Emerie!” she cried out in delight, rushing up the hall to meet them, and they gathered in a tight embrace of tenderness and effervescence.

“I’ve missed you both so much,” she sighed, savouring the warmth and inhaling the smell of Emerie’s patchouli scented hair oil mixed with her mothers ginger and cardamom perfume.

“We have missed you more than you know, my sweet girl,” her mother cooed, running her ringed hand over Cluethael’s braided hair; she had no idea how much she had longed for her mothers touch.

“You must be exhausted sister, please rest, we shall all talk in the morning,” Emerie offered. ever the matriarch, Cluethael thought to herself, a smile cresting her lips as she nodded.

They led her to her room, as if she had been away for so long that she had forgotten where it was. She left them both with a kiss on the cheek and wished for a night of full rest as she closed the door. She stood at the threshold of her room, still filled with the clutter of childhood, of a little girl who was no longer her.

She undressed herself, slowly peeling off the layer of leather that had become a second skin and replacing it with a soft cotton chemise that no longer fit as it used to. Though she did not mind, it was soft and the very antithesis of what she had become used to.

She climbed beneath the goose down cover and sunk into the mattress, the softness leaching away all those years she spent in a cot. Cold slowly ebbing away the longer she was beneath the covers, she was bone weary but thankful to be in a place where she could finally rest.

It was then, in the quiet moonlit calm of her old chambers, beneath the covers that she began to cry. It felt as though the weight of the world had finally been lifted from her, she felt as though she could finally mourn all that she had been through.

Cluethael had been up for hours before the sun's rays began to pierce through the thin curtains of her chambers. She had already dressed herself in a light cotton tunic and the trousers from her leathers with boots that stopped at the knee. She found her old spot by the windowsill, the scratch marks from her wings etched into the wood, like she could almost see the ghost of her past self.

Breakfast had been laid out on several trays, the smell of fresh baked bread wafted through the room as she went to sit down in her usual chair, only to find a pair of large round eyes staring back at her. Cluethael blinked in surprise at the child before she knelt down on the cobble floor, sitting eye level with the dark mop of curls.

“And who might you be?” Cluethael asked with a slight lilt, her eyebrow arched. The girl stared back at her quietly, simmering on the question as if it held the key to all the world’s unanswered questions.

“My name is Saelira, and I’m a Princess, who are you?” she snipped, it made Cluethael snicker in delight. This one was going to drive her mother absolutely mad, she thought.

“Well, Saelira, I am also a Princess, who also happens to be your mother’s sister,” she remarked with a grin.

“Sister? My mother doesn’t have a sister!” she bit. The response caused Cluethael to pull back, the pang in her chest apparent. Did her sister not speak about her?

“She absolutely does,” she grinned.

“Does not!” Saelira replied.

“Does too,” Cluethael countered, the whole kerfuffle beginning to take an eerily similar route of her and Emerie’s arguments. Cluethael sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead in faux hurt.

“Perhaps when your mother arrives, we shall settle this debate, until then Princess, I bid you farewell,” she replied, bowing her head, taloned hand rolling slightly.

“You’re funny,” Saelira giggled at Cluethael, her small freckled nose scrunching in delight.

She stood once again, sitting beside Saelira, making sure to check the chair before seating herself, a smirk inching onto her face. It wasn’t long before Emerie rushed into the room, red in the face from huffing, though her shoulders relaxed when she laid eyes on Saelira.

“How many times have I told you not to venture off like that, Ñuha Byka Jorrāelagon,” she sighed, scooping up the writhing tangle of wings and limbs.

Cluethael muffled a laugh as she served herself, taking a small piece of almost everything on the table, a chunk of pheasant, a slice of bread layered thick with salted butter and jam, a bowl of oats sweetened with sugar and spices, a whole apple and some salted pork.

“Where is mother, won’t she be joining us?” She queried, mouth half full of bread.

“Firstly, if you’re going to speak with food in your mouth, be sure to fill it all the way up first,” Emerie shot at Cluthael, the corners of her mouth quirked. “Mother sends her apologies, she has some pressing business to tend to,” Emerie continued, her mouth setting in a hard line; something about the way Emerie said pressing business screamed trouble to Cluethael, she intended to find out why.

Cluethael took as much time as she could to eat her breakfast so as not to raise suspicion, taking large, but manageable bites of bread and jam. Surely the largeness of her bites could be contributed to her finally getting to eat something other than gruel and hard tac. She had sorely missed the softness of bread and the salty sweetness of butter and jam as it melted from the steam.

There was a long silence between the two, only the sound of cutlery clinking against the crockery, that was, until Saelira broke the silence.

“Mama, who is this lady?” she asked, porridge dripping down her small chin.

Surprise flashed on Emerie’s face as her eyes flitted to Cluethael, who intently stared back at her sister, a wry grin tipping the corners of her mouth.

“Yes, Princess Saelira and I were having a rather riveting conversation about my parentage before you interrupted,” Cluethael remarked slyly.

“That’s your aunt, Cluethael, she has been away for a very long time,” Emerie offered. Saelira’s eyes narrowed at Cluethael, evaluating every word her mother told her.

“Where did you go?” she asked, her porridge now long forgotten. Emerie looked at Cluethael pleadingly, she gave her a small reassuring smile - leave out the bloodshed, understood.

“Well,” she started, setting down her cutlery. “When I was young, I decided that I wanted to go on an adventure. See, I had read so many books about dragons and creatures from the beyond, that I decided that I wanted to find some,” she said, offering a tight lipped smile.

“Did you?” she asked, her eyes taking on that childlike gleam. Cluethael couldn’t help but smile at her sweetness, a true smile, one that exposed the sharpness of her fangs.

“I did,” Cluethael nodded, “But those are stories for another time,” she added sternly.

“But why?” Saelira countered, her little arms crossed in front of her chest. Cluethael looked to Emerie, unsure of what to say.

“Come now, Byka Perzys, we should get you dressed for the day,” Emerie sighed, lifting Saelira from the chair and setting her on the floor, heading towards the door. Her older sister turned her head to Cluethael and mouthing ‘thank you’, before exiting the dining room.

Cluethael waited until Emerie and Saelira were out of earshot before she exited, now she could figure out what that ‘other business’ that mother was attending to was. She assumed that her business would be taking place in one of two places, the throne room or her personal solar. She made her way through the high stone hall’s to the antechamber of the throne room, the sound of muffled voices growing louder as she drew closer.

She nodded to the guard stationed to let her pass, assessing the situation as she strode towards her mother and sister; they were standing on the dias with her uncle Eriling. She gave him a polite nod in greeting, but not before she bowed to her mother and Emerie; Lord Eriling stood at the foot of the dias, looking up to her mother as he continued to plead his case.

“Do you not think that your duties lie elsewhere? Your daughter has just returned home from what was surely a gruelling experience. Is it right to deprive her of the maternal figure she needs?” He asked, looking from his goodsister to Cluethael, she pushed down the urge to roll her eyes.

“That is quite the bold accusation, Lord Eriling. You assume that I cannot run a kingdom and be a mother, have I not been doing so for two decades?” Her mother spoke in that same calm and even tone that she always had, she was open to criticism but had the iron fist of a monarch to snuff out treason.

“I-I assume no such thing, but does your heart not yearn for something…befitting of your station?” He stammered, beginning to crack under the burning gaze of three royals. Rage bubbled up into Cluethael’s throat, acidic vitriol threatening to spill from her, she looked to Emerie, who was already staring at her with a look of warning in her eyes.

“Be mindful of your next words, for the words you speak are seditious,” Emerie’s voice taking on a cold edge.

“It is not seditious if it holds truth,” Eriling responded. “It is always the same with you women, insult their ability to rule and you come crashing down, just like your mother before you,” he continued, grinning like a cat who had dined on cream for dinner. Something snapped in Cluethael, it was one thing to insult her mother, but a different thing entirely to disrespect the dead, her teeth ground together in disgust.

“And you assume Lord Eriling, that you are more fit for the role? What is the reasoning that you would come here and ask my mother, quite boldly might I add, to renounce her throne? Do you think that being my father’s brother protects you from being charged with treason?” Cluethael hissed, unable to hold back the floodgates any longer.

A stunned silence filled the room, all three heads snapping to Cluethael, her eyes wild and wings flared in frustration. Lord Eriling scoffed and shook his head, but backed up a few paces as Cluethael took a few steps towards him, placing herself between him and her family.

“You will learn, one day, that a woman is not fit for the throne,” he hissed, turning for the door. Cluethael opened her mouth to retort, only to have a taloned hand grab her arm, the claws digging in painfully.

“You have done quite enough,” her mother said, using that same calm and regal voice on her as she did mere seconds ago with Lord Eriling.

“Well, Cluethael, one thing hasn’t changed since you’ve been gone. When there’s a pot of shit boiling, you know how to stir it like it’s the god’s work,” Emerie remarked, releasing the iron grip on her arm and shaking her head in annoyance.

She fled the throne room after Eriling left to hide her embarrassment first and foremost, but also to avoid lashing out at her mother. She was only doing her duty, allowing him to air his qualms before her, as is the right of any subject of the crown.

Cluethael had spent the rest of the day tucked away in the library, her nose pressed into the pages of a book. She tried to ignore the blood that still simmered in her veins as she read the words on the page before her. She was sure she had read the same eleven words at least twelve times and still could not retain it; she bit the inside of her cheek in frustration.

Princess Nymeria fled the Valyrian freehold with her people aboard 10,000…

Her focus began to deviate once more and she threw her head back, a sigh escaping with the motion of it. She couldn’t shake what her uncle had said to her, you will learn, that a woman is not fit for the throne. The mere sentiment made her stomach churn, was it not decided near a century ago that women would sit on the throne? He had no idea the burden that each woman that came before had faced, he was no different than any of the other men she had met, all hungry for power.

It was not her mother’s, nor her grandmother’s fault that they would bear the crown, the same duty bound burden her sister would carry, and then in time little Saelira too. The choice was taken from them in the same way as a child not choosing when to grow up, to put away childish things and by the time they notice, it is often too late.

Cluethael supposed it was the same for her in a way, it wasn’t her choice to marry the Targaryen Prince, it was a matter of duty. And like it or not, her time to fulfil those duties was fast approaching, she would spend the rest of her life in a far off place away from her family and the comforts of her home, all for the sake of duty.

It was well into the hour of the owl when Cluethael returned to her chamber, only to find a small lump in the centre of the plush mattress. For a split second her heart began to race, her first instinct thinking it was a creature that had come to claim her. It was only when she drew closer to the bed that she noticed the small wings buried into the thick goose down.

Saelira sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and looking to the doorway, the flickering candlelight streaming into the room. Judging by the state of the hearth, which was nothing but embers, Saelira had been in her chambers for a while, she made for the edge of the bed, closing the door behind her.

“What’s the matter, Ñuha Dōna?” Cluethael asked, her voice laced with worry.

Saelira looked at her for a moment, her eyes beginning to glaze over with unshed tears before leaping into her arms. Well this is certainly a change from breakfast this morning, she thought, but wrapped her arms around her niece regardless. Saelira felt so small in her grasp as she held her close, rubbing small soothing circles on her back.

“I - I had a nightmare,” she cried into Cluethael’s arms, her tears beginning to seep into her linen shirt.

“Sh, sh, sh,” she hushed, lifting Saelira into her arms, toeing off her boots and climbing beneath the covers. Saelira nestled into her Aunt’s arms, still sniffling as Cluethael smoother her hands over the small head of curls beside her “Mirre iksis sȳrī, ñuha byka prūmia. Daorun kostagon ōdrikagon ao kesīr,” she spoke in a soft, honeyed tone.

“Would you like to talk about what you saw, Little Spark?” Cluethael asked her softly, curious to find out what stirred her so much to seek out her Aunt’s comfort.

Saelira took in a shaky breath, trying to formulate her sentence, “I dreamt that there was a big scary monster that tried to take me away, I called for my muña but she didn’t come. I felt so scared!” she sobbed. “And then I woke up and I couldn’t find my muña, and then y-you weren't here either!” Saelira continued, she could just about feel the poor girl's heart beat through her chest.

Saelira whispered, her voice sounding so small. “I thought everyone had left me,”

“Oh Byka Rhaperzys. It’s okay, the monster can’t hurt you. I’m right here, and I’m sure your muña isn’t far away, she is just with Mumuña,” she soothed. “But for now, you can stay here with me,” she whispered, running a delicate finger from Saelira’s forehead to the tip of her nose. It was the same soothing motion her sister would do for her when she would rouse from a bad dream.

Cluethael repeated the motion for several minutes as she hummed softly, watching Saelira’s eyes grow heavy with sleep. Never in Cluethael’s life had she taken care of a child, and yet here she was, taking care of Saelira like she was her own babe. She looked upon the now sleeping child, her heart filling with a feeling she couldn’t describe, her own eyes growing heavy.

—

Cluethael could hear bards tuning their instruments in preparation for the grand celebration that her mother was holding tonight, a celebration for the safe return of her second daughter. That brought her to where she stood now, being fussed over by no less than three handmaids, all tasked with different things.

The dirt had been meticulously scrubbed from beneath her claws and the dew talon that stood proudly on each wing was filed. Her hair was washed and brushed through with spicy smelling oils, it seemed her mother thought that she was not capable of cleaning herself. They had scrubbed her skin so harshly that it was pink and raw by the time she emerged from the water. A thin cotton sheet was placed over her body to both dry her skin and protect her modesty as she sat on the stool in front of her vanity.

Her wings had been cleaned and dried with gentle hands, she could feel them cringing at each scar they crossed over. She hated being treated as though she was so fragile that she may break, she was not made of glass, but steel. Deft fingers braided the tresses that curled down her back, settling between her membranous wings, small beads of water clinging to the ends like diamonds. It was then that a knock came from the door, the three handmaid's parting swiftly, like waves, as though she was some sort of deity cutting through an ocean.

“Come,” Cluethael called, her eyes trained on the door through the haze of the mirror. The door inched open, just enough for a familiar dark head of hair to peek through, the hinges groaning in protest. She was elated when her eyes met the familiar gold-toned eyes of Alia, as she pushed the door open to enter the room, dismissing the three girls.

“I can continue from here, thank you,” she remarked as they passed, closing the door as they left Cluethael’s chambers. A giddy grin spread across Cluethael’s lips, fangs just peeking out from underneath her top lip, a gentle reminder of the killer she had become, she shook away the thought. Alia placed a gentle hand on Cluethael’s shoulders, a soothing balm on her battered soul.

“I have missed you dearly, Alia,” she smiled, trying to force down the urge to lean into her touch.

“The castle has not been the same without you,” Alia replied, giving her shoulder a gentle pat before she began unfurling the braid in her hair, clearly displeased with the work of her underlings. “Never send a girl to do a woman's job,” she muttered, Cluethael suppressed a giggle. It had been far too long since she had laughed, it almost made her look forward to the celebration her mother had planned.

Festivities that she had come to know were not as frivolous as the ones she had grown up with, libations were never strong enough and the music always reminded her of war cries. To hear a lute that had been properly tuned and to taste wine that didn’t remind her of urine would be a welcome change.

Alia had worked her magic on Cluethael’s hair, she had pulled all of her dark curls away from her face, her horns on full display. Two braids ran along the top of her head, and one more braid on either side of her temple, all four of them converging at her nape where they were weaved together in the same fashion a basket would be. The rest of her hair was left to hang in its natural curl, slowly spiralling as it dried.

She stepped back from Cluethael and moved to the chest at the end of the bed, pulling out an arm full of silver fabric. The dress fit her like a glove, a silver-grey gown with flowing, near floor length, sleeves of soft opaque fabric shimmered like starlight. Two triangular pieces made up the decolletage, forming a deep ‘V’ shape that accentuated her comely figure and broad shoulders, before it fell gracefully to the floor, a small train forming behind her.

It cinched dramatically at her waist with a diamond shaped cut of soft brown leather layered with braided silver threading that tied it together. The back of the gown was left almost completely open, save for the straps that ran across her shoulders to keep the sleeves from falling, and a thin silver chain with an onyx stone that ran the length of her spine.

—

The roiling in her stomach did not seem to quell no matter what she did. Alia had let slip that the Targaryen-Hightower branch of her betrothed’s family would be in attendance at tonight's celebration. With each step she took down the spiralling main staircase, she too began to spiral further. Insidious thoughts snaked their way into her head, their poisonous fangs piercing deep into her heart; an unspoken whisper that she was no longer good enough, no longer a viable match for the empire the Targaryen’s had built.

No. She was as much the blood of the dragon as they were.

She was nothing if not worthy, she was everything she could have hoped to be, skilled in combat, intelligent and cunning with a wit that was unmatched. Cluethael was nothing if not the culmination of all who came before her, learning from their follies and making sure that she would not suffer the same as her predecessors.

She reached for the tarnished seven pointed star that Aemond had gifted her all those years ago, she remembered the argument that led to the gift as if it had happened only yesterday. Her thumb and forefinger passing over it, the feel of the fine threads of gold a comfort she had not always been afforded. And yet, even with the knowledge she possessed, she did not know how to make people see her as anything more than a second daughter.

A sacrificial lamb.

All eyes were fixed to her as the grand doors to the hall were opened, the music ceased as she gracefully descended the steps. Her eyes searched for her family as she cut through the sea of people, all of them bowing their heads in respect as she passed. They had been perched at the dias, the three thrones had been substituted for a long table to accommodate both her own family, and her new one.

Music thrummed throughout the entirety of the castle; she watched on as people danced together, smiling at the sea of colours before her. She had not seen a party so lively since her thirteenth name day celebration, which had ended in a long list of horrors that she would rather not think about right now.

Aemond’s Pov

The last time he had set foot in this room he was hardly old enough to tie the laces on his shoes, and now six years later he stood outside its doors once more. His mother stood in front of Aegon, desperately trying to fix his mussed hair and crinkled doublet, smoothing it over with her hands as he tried to push himself away.

“Mother, please. I am a man grown,” Aegon huffed.

“A man grown would allow the servants to help him dress,” she replied, exhaling from her nose, eyes fluttering in frustration. Aegon had opened his mouth to retort as the ornate oak doors began to open for them, his mother and grandsire took the lead as they descended the steps, followed closely by Helaena and Aegon, and lastly, himself.

It hadn’t changed at all since he had last been inside, the same large misshapen stone tiles made up the floor, and the same candelabras stood dripping with tendrils of melted wax. Above him was the same Sept-like expanse of wood and stone that steadfastly held the roof above their heads.

The thrones atop the dias had been shifted, a long table now in its place, suspended above it was an arrangement of flowers so large it almost entirely blocked the circular stained glass window behind it. It was a mass of ferns, feathers and ivy, flowers of red, black, and grey intertwined with the greenery; its spindly branches hanging so low they almost skimmed the wooden table.

Sitting proudly at the head of the table was the Taloned Dowager herself, her face was stern, her eyes hard as she watched them descend into the room. Aemond could feel her eyes piercing into his skull, as he found his seat at the end of the table, a large black feather hanging above his head. It was only then, after they had found their seats did she stand to address the gathered assembly of numerous lords and ladies, from both Westeros and Draghiem.

Silence fell with a simple movement of her slender hand, “I welcome all those who have travelled far and wide for this special occasion. After many years away, my youngest daughter has returned home to us, to her rightful place,”

There was a hushed murmur that ran through the crowd, Westerosi lords and ladies alike exchanging strange looks with one another. Aemond couldn’t help but notice the slight against his family, to her rightful place, he repeated in his head. The marred golden scars on the Queen’s wings glittered and glowed in the candlelight, a flamboyant display of their pedigree.

His mother thought they were all mutts, but his grandsire said that they needed them.

“But that is enough for now, let the festivities recommence!” she declared before returning to her seat.

“What a wonderful ball you have hosted, your Grace,” his mother complimented, a tight expression across her features.

The Taloned Dowager nodded, her fingers locked tightly around a chalice of wine “Thank you, your Grace. It is not very often we have such… esteemed guests,” her smile did not reach her eyes.

Aemond had never been one for balls or festivities, he had always found them to be a hunting ground for desperate lords and ladies to auction off their children to the highest bidder. It reminded him entirely too much of the court back home, to Lord Borros. He took a sip from the chalice he had been nursing, before looking back out over the crowd and tuning out the overlapping chatter around him.

That’s when the doors to the hall opened once more, revealing a face he had not seen in quite some time; Cluethael. The once lively hall ceased all activity as she entered, everyone's eyes fell on her, including his own. She was beautiful in the way a storm was, harsh and frightening like the streaks of lightning that crackled across the sky. Her horns wrapped around her head like a crown made of bone, each talon at the tip of her fingers glinted like a blade, both a warning and a testament to anyone who challenged the Draghiem’s power.

Aemond followed his mother’s lead as she stood gracefully from the table, followed by his sister, brother and finally his grandfather. There was something in the way the numerous lords and ladies in attendance parted for her, their heads bowed, that made his skin heat. His eyes never left her as she ascended the dias, stopping on the other side of the table to curtsy. It wasn’t as graceful as some, but it was better than he expected, she was always one to choose her duty as a warrior over that of being a princess. She was exactly who her mother raised her to be, what they were all raised to be - vicious killers.

He listened intently as she participated in pleasantries, but he did not miss how her eyes would find his own. “Princess Cluethael,” Aemond greeted.

“Prince Aemond, it is lovely that you have attended, it has been far too long,” she smiled politely, dipping her head in respect. Her voice was deeper than when they last spoke, honeyed and melodious.

“Indeed it has,” was all he could manage. But with his extensive education, surely he could have come up with more than that. She indulged him with a half laugh, before excusing herself to sit by her sister, who now had a brood of her own. He found his seat once more, resisting the urge to shrink back into it.

He studied her from afar as she conversed with her sister, as she fussed over the child grabbing at her arm, no matter where Cluethael would roam, his eyes stayed transfixed on her. She had matured a great deal since he had last seen her, in the ways most women do as they age, but there was something dark about her, simmering just below the surface. Aemond noted the sharpness in her smile and the presence she commanded, like a general commanding a battalion.

They locked eyes with each other across the room, she gave him a small nod in acknowledgement - an unspoken greeting. They had yet to speak a word to each other other than pleasantries, neither of them wanting to stand from their seats.

“ - As stupid as a basket,” Aemond had caught the tail end of his misbegotten brother's sentence as he sidled up to him.

“What?” his response to Aegon was curt, frustrated that he had been pulled from his thoughts.

“I said; The ladies at court are pretty, but they are as stupid as baskets compared to Draghiem’s court,” he repeated.

“It is not as though you have an interest in intelligence, brother,” Aemond huffled back, trying his best to keep track of Cluethael and act like he is listening to his brother.

“You would do well to retrieve your jaw from the floor, brother,” Aegon jested. Aemond rolled his eyes, unamused by his brother’s jest. Was it that obvious? He shot Aegon an incredulous look, the glare that took over his singular lavender eye still sharp enough to cut deep. As much as he wanted to continue the delightful conversation his brother roped him into, drowning out the story he was now telling about his recent visit to a whore house.

Instead he found his mother staring at him, her slender brows rising slightly, flicking her eyes from himself to Cluethael, who sat oblivious at the other end of the table taking in her surroundings. Aemond gracefully rose from his seat once more, before they had entered the hall his mother had asked him to share a dance with Cluethael and much to his chagrin, he agreed. It was not as if he couldn’t dance, quite the contrary, he just did not like to be seen as anything less than the stone walls he had built around himself. But by the time he had summoned the courage to take the first step towards her, Cluethael had been whisked away from him once more.

She had been taken by her sister, the both of them smiling and conversing with one another as they went through the motions of a dance he had never seen before. Aemond’s eyes tore from her to look around the hall, people were laughing, talking and embracing their children as if they had not seen them for a while. The room hummed with an energy that he couldn’t quite place, relief possibly?

It was then that Cluethael’s mother stood from her chair in the middle of the table, it was the first time he had taken the time to notice the wings of the monarch, how marred and filled with scratches they were. The hall's energy lowered from crackling with a feeling he couldn’t place, to a low hum as Cluethael’s mother began to talk.

“I would like to take this moment to honour those who were lost in this year's Blood Rite, it is a pain that no parent should know. I send my deepest sympathies, may the Boreas take them,” she started, a solemn silence taking the hall.

“But I send my gratitude to both the old gods and the new for bringing a lucky few back to us, may we now hold the moments we have with our children all the more dear,” his eyes found Cluetheal, “For on the wings of victory they shall soar!”

He had found his way to the balcony overlooking the sheer drop into the thrashing ocean below, it held the same isolation that Dragonstone or Storms End had. A person quietly sidled up to the railing on his left side about four paces away from him, their head tilted upwards to the sky. He turned his head abruptly, to tell Aegon to leave him be, only to find Cluethael leaning on the railing, her eyes trained on the sky.

“It’s beautiful, is it not? It’s so vast, I wish more people could see its beauty,” she hummed, her head turning to face him before returning to the sky.

He hummed in agreement, “It is, there isn’t much else as beautiful as the night sky, my lady,” he replied, doing his best to ignore the nervous prickling at the base of his spine.

“My lady, would you do me the great courtesy of saving your next dance for me?” He was just as surprised as she was when the question, which sounded more like a statement, came from his lips.

A grin crossed her lips as she nodded, “Of course, my lord,” was all she afforded him before returning to the warmth of the hall, that damn stone glinting in the moonlight.

Cluethael’s Pov

If there was one thing Cluethael was absolutely sure of: Aemond had become every bit of the Targaryen dragon lord he had desired to be. His menacing stature alone was enough to have the servants avert their eyes from him–not that he paid them any mind–he looked far too focused on the stone wall behind her. Despite his stoicism, Cluethael found him quite attractive, as he really did grow into his features.

They had a less than enthusiastic reunion after so long of seeing each other, perhaps a sliver of that little boy she knew still lived in him. He had not spoken to her at all besides the pleasantries he awarded everyone, which was nothing more than a short, ‘Princess,’ and a bow. She had no idea why the interaction disgruntled her so much, as she was not entitled to any more attention than any of the other maidens in attendance.

It was somewhere between the sixth and seventh course when she began to grow tired of the eyes on her; the room began feeling far too closed off despite its spaciousness. She politely excused herself from the table before making her way towards the large balcony that overlooked the rolling ocean.

The night sky here was beautiful; stars glittered in the sky by the thousands, each of them a testament to the gods' creativity, to allow us to gaze upon something so magnificent. She only realised that she wasn’t alone when a head snapped towards hers, a scowl on their face, silver strands fluttering in the ocean breeze. Her body released tension she didn’t know she had been holding when his face began to relax, taking notice that it was her.

Cluethael wasn’t sure how she ended up with her body tucked closely to the Targaryen Princes’ but there she was, her slender taloned hand clasped in his. The whole thing felt awkward, she would admit, the tension that hummed between them as they glided around the slate floor. She needed to do something to break the barrier between them, anything to break the silence as they twirled between couples.

“I love this dance, it is traditional to Westeros is it not?” she asked, near groaning as the statement left her lips. After all the lessons in conversational etiquette, this was the best she could do? At the very least, her embarrassment could pass for being flushed from dancing.

“Indeed, it is most invigorating. The dance hails from the Vale I believe,” he replied. His voice sounded far off, like he was relying on muscle memory to guide him through the conversation, stiff silence hung between them despite the moment and music.

“It is your turn to say something, My Lord,” she urged, taking charge of the conversation. “I spoke about the dance, it is your turn to remark about the slightness of our Great Hall or the number of couples,” she tried her best to smooth the frustration in her voice. She could hear her mothers words echoing in her mind: Do not let them know how you feel, keep your emotions tucked close to your heart.

“I am perfectly happy to oblige, please advise me on what you would like best to hear,” he remarked, a flash of something she didn’t recognise glinting in his eyes. She had finally gotten the chance to look at him closely, taking in his features, a strong jawline and a defined aquiline nose. There was no denying that he was every bit the blood of the dragon.

“Perhaps it is best we remain silent,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Another wave of silence followed for a moment, Aemond broke it this time.

“You talk as a rule while dancing?” he asked her, a scarred brow raised as they spun, their hair fanning out around them, like the night encircling the moon.

“No, I prefer to be brash and unsociable and taciturn, makes it all so much more enjoyable, don’t you think?” Cluethael quipped, a smile dancing on her lips.

Maybe things would not be as bad as she thought.

Blinking herself out of her trance, her brain reconnecting itself back to her body, she stood in front of the long mirror in her chambers. She ignored her racing heart, instead observing her out: the fine travelling coat of deep green, its sleeves long and soft against her arms.Underneath the coat was light leather armour, it made her feel secure; it was her little piece of home she wanted to take with her.

She played with the gold necklace Aemond had given her all those years ago before tucking it under her coat and armour. A thin brown leather belt hung on her hip, a marvellous silver dagger set with a ruby on the hilt, and her rope dart; looped neatly in its holster. Her hair was braided in a traditional Targaryen style, two large braids at the top of her head, hanging at her back. Startled by the knock on her door, it swung open as Saelira rushed at her, she bent down to capture her in a tight embrace.

"Hello my little love!" she greeted, kissing her repeatedly on her cheeks causing a chorus of giggles to ensue, she pulled away to stand and look at Emerie.

"She came to see her favourite aunt off," Emerie smiled, pulling her little sister - who was not so little anymore - into a bone crushing hug. She returned the favour by hugging her sister tighter.

“I’m her only aunt,” She quipped. Cluethael didn’t miss the smile that ghosted her sister’s lips, before the same solemness set in her features once more.

"Mother wishes for us to see you off; He is here," Emerie whispered to her, she pulled away from her sister instinctively. The words that he had written on the letter swirling around her head I shall return for you. She shivered involuntarily, a physical manifestation of the building anxiety, she nodded letting out a slow breath to soothe herself, casting her gaze down to her nieces

"Let's go meet our new friend shall we?" she asked the two doe eye girls, feigning excitement. They both nodded eagerly, practically dragging her by her travelling coat.

The hallway to the grand hall felt longer than it was, the doors opened to reveal her mother in all her regal pride in a dress of the prettiest blue. She took off in a run to pull her mother into a teary hug.

"Oh my darling, how beautiful you look," she sniffled, taking in how much her daughter had grown. The queen had not realised how much her youngest had changed in the past six years, she was a young girl no longer; but a woman grown.

They both stepped back from each other as her sister and her children took their place beside them. "Send the prince in,'' her mother commanded. The doors opened once more as a familiar tall, silver haired prince stalked forward like a wild cat hunting his prey. He wore a simple riding coat and a black doublet and britches, his boots stopped at his mid calf; a sword and an all too familiar dagger hung at his side.

She stood steadfast and tall, even though she wanted nothing more than to shrink herself down to the size of a pea. Seeing him was different when she knew that she would not see her family on the morrow. His gaze tingled across her skin, and Aemond bowed to the small group as they stood in front of the dias.

They returned the respect in kind, dipping their heads in a silent greeting. Cluethael had lost track of what was going on around her, the pleasantries exchanged fading into a soft hum, flashes of the last year repeating in her mind. The familiar tingle of fear prickled the base of her spine as they moved through the courtyard, a firm hand grasped her by the shoulder.

Her mother had only embraced her in such a way twice before, the morning she left to become a Valkyrie and the morning she returned. It pulled painfully at her heart to always be the harbinger of such sadness, if she were to have it her way, she would never leave the confines of the kingdom if it meant that she could stay.

“Oh my sweet girl, it feels like you had only just returned and now you are being taken again,” her mother lamented.

Cluethal nodded. “I know mother, I did not wish to be away again so soon,” she blinked away the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

She reluctantly let go of her mother, reaching out to Emerie, who embraced Cluethael tightly, resting her head on top of her little sisters. Cluethael basked in the farewell she had with her mother and Emerie and her nieces. When she turned back to Aemond, she saw he had taken a few respectful steps back so she could say goodbye.

Mae, the quieter one of the two, grasped her at her hand tightly, making her stop. She turned to the young girl and bent down to her level, her dark wild hair hanging at her shoulders.

“Where are you going?," she asked, her eyes beginning to water; Cluethael’s own lip trembled, her carefully built exterior cracking for a brief moment.

"I’m going on a new adventure!” she began, putting on a wide smile, “Perhaps when I am settled your mother will allow you to visit,” she reassured, standing up again. Cluethael took several steps back from them, making her way toward Aemond. She looked back at her family again from where they stood on the steps of the castle; they looked complete, even in her absence.

They walked together in silence, the path they walked all too familiar. Neither of them wanted to break the silence, that was until they stopped at the clearing. A gasp escaped her lips as she smacked his arm in delight, Aemond's lips quirked at the sound. To say the beast before her was large was an understatement, deep green scales marred with scars covered its body.

"Her name is Vaghar,'' he said, making his way to the beast, his hand carefully placed at the small of her back. Vaghar's body shifted as her rider and his companion came closer, her yellow eyes snapping open, pupils narrowing into slits. Aemond brought her to Vaghar's head and placed her hand on her snout, his hand placed firmly on hers.

She could feel the callouses and small cuts on his hands from training, unprompted she began to speak "Kesan daor ōdrikagon zirȳla, iksan iā raqiros,'' simply letting her know that she meant no harm and was a friend. Vaghar let out a low grumble in acknowledgement; the air released from the dragon's throat and out her nostrils blew her hair back.

Aemond looked at Cluetheal in quiet amazement, though he didn't say anything, only made his way to mount the large beast. Aemond stepped to the side to allow his betrothed to climb the rope ladder before him. Instead of climbing the tattered looking ropes that hung from Vhagar, she flapped her wings to lift herself to the dragons’ back.

Once both of them were mounted, Aemond let out the command for Vaghar to fly, the movement of her body sending thunderous shockwaves up her spine. Vaghar's wings opened as they sped up into the air, that delightful feeling of the world falling away beneath her feet.

It gave the Princess just enough time to look back at Draghiem, the view of her family home and ancestral seat had never looked as grandiose as it did now. Its high spires and towering Grand Hall almost reaching for her, pain tugging at her heart. Vhagar banked to the side and continued out over the ocean, her home fading from view.

From where she was on her perch behind Aemond on Vhagar’s large saddle, her hand placed loosely around his waist. She could see the sky beginning to shift colours, the warm orange-red hues becoming maroon and indigo. It had been so long since she had seen the sky free from obstruction; she had not flown since her journey home and her wings ached for it, but for now she would settle for the view on dragon-back.

It was a calm night, the sky was crystal clear, and while the conversation was sparse, the long silences were not awkward or uncomfortable and for that, she was thankful. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other in hours, she had gotten so used to noise that she had almost forgotten what silence sounded like.

She turned her head back to the scenery around her, not realising her thoughts had led her so far away from her own body that she had been staring at the back of Aemond’s head for several minutes. In the time she had been submersed in her own thoughts, the sky had grown dark and heavy with storm clouds, the flashes of lighting had put her on edge.

There was roaring rain and rolling thunder from the clouds beneath them, she could feel the crackle of electricity in the air before it struck the sea thousands of feet below them, causing the hairs on her body to stand up. The sudden crack of light through the air as thunder crashed around them made her flinch, sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth.

Her heart raced, desperately trying to claw its way out of her throat she could feel the panic thrumming through her veins. Cluethael did her best to calm herself, the embarrassment of being ten and eight and still scared of thunderstorms heating her cheeks. Aemond shifted in front of her, a large hand snaked around to her thigh, a silent grounding presence.

Only then did she realise, as the wind whipped around and thunder shook her bones, of how warm his touch was.

They spent most of the night in a comfortable silence, the sky had once again begun shifting colours to herald in the oncoming dawn. The deep blues and violets of the darkness changed to an intricate painting of soft blues and pinks, the golden warmth beginning to crest over the horizon.

Aemond extended a finger to point in front of them, to the patch of land slowly appearing over the horizon. Two large buildings stood out to her immediately, one made entirely of red stone, four tall towers that she could just make out. While the other building seemed to be a large dome, a gold spire glinting in the orange glow of dusk.

"The building towards the ocean is the Red Keep,” he directed his finger once more to the domed building.

“We are making our way to this one,” he said, pointing out the domed building.

A grin overtook her mouth, only offering a curt nod before she untied the rope keeping her in the saddle and let herself fall from Vaghar. Entering a blissful freefall towards the ocean, letting out a happy yell as she opened her wings and shot back up past Aemond, coming to glide above Vaghar’s massive wing.

He looked at her incredulously, loving that mischievous glint in her eyes. It was the same one she had back in the clearing all those years ago; his Wildflower: He drank in the visage of his betrothed in flight, her hair whipping around her face wildly, the light filtered through the thin membrane of her wings highlighting the knicks and scars on them.

She looked every bit lovely than he remembered, her upturned nose and high cheekbones, she looked free. The closer they got to the Dragon Pit the more nervous the princess became, her stomach had not stopped bubbling since she mounted Vhagar yesterday.

She knew that when she arrived that she was on their ground not her own, if training with the Valkyrie taught her anything it was that she needed to be careful. She left the safety net of Vaghar's wing and dove down towards the water, she lent her hand down revelling in the warmth, the icy chill of winter finally receding.

Once Vaghar had landed outside the Dragon Pit, it was in the cover of darkness once more; they both made their way into the large domed building, she had never seen something like this in her entire life. Its roof had to be eighty feet tall, arches carved out of sandstone lined with candles, she was brought back down to earth when she saw two people at the far end of the pit by the enormous doors.

The closer they came the more she could make out the figures, one was Queen Alicent with her hands clasped tightly in front of her beautiful green dress, opulent gold jewellery seemed to drip off her. The other body standing beside her was tall and had a beard of sandy brown on his chin, he had crows feet at the corners of his eyes and crease marks on his forehead showing that he was a seasoned thinker. And then a third figure in amour that shone like the moon, a familiar face that she took to more kindly then the previous, Ser Criston, dipping his head as the royals approached.

He stood proudly beside the queen, his hands resting behind his back, Alicent stepped toward her son pulling him in for a hug and thanking the seven he returned safely. She smiled at the princess fondly, "Oh my dear girl, how you've grown," she marvelled at the girl who stood before her. Her broad shoulders and body built for fighting was not something often seen in Westeros, nor were the awful things attached to her back. Cluethael returned the polite smile and dipped her head in respect, but she would not bow.

"Thank you, your Grace,'' she responded with a well rehearsed curtsey, wearily eyeing the man beside her. He stepped forward and bowed his head.

"Lord Otto Hightower, Princess," he re-introduced himself, before stepping back once more.

"It is a pleasure to meet you again, My Lord," she said, the words tasting sour on her tongue. She could never understand all the needless titles and pleasantries of the court. “It would be a great honour if you would call me Cluethael.” she added, watching them take a sidelong glance at each other.

"I am sure you both are exhausted from your travels. Shall we return to the Keep?" the Queen suggested, glossing over Clethael’s request entirely, allowing Lord Hightower to take the lead out of the Dragon Pit doors followed closely behind by his daughter and grandson, with Cluethael begrudgingly bringing up the rear with Ser Criston.

The royal chambers she was given were comfortable to say the least, She shed her riding coat and belt before diligently untying her armour, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. She was fortunate enough to have a few dresses and nightgowns afforded to her on arrival, she picked the simple floor length linen one that struck her fancy. She stopped when she realised there was a back on the dress, they were not accustomed to having someone like her here.

She sighed before taking the night gown in her hands and ripping the back open, it slid over her wings after that. Her scalp ached as he undid the tight braids from her head and brushed the knots from her head slowly, the repeated motion relaxed her. She stood up once more and looked at the room, red stone walls and a lovely balcony, a copper tub behind a modesty screen, a small table and chairs sat behind a large settee.

One thing stuck out to her; the bed was not large enough to house her. But there was no fixing it, she blew out the candles in the room one by one and crawled onto the bed, her wings hanging so far over the bed they almost entirely laid on the floor. A sigh fell from her lips as she welcomed but rather uncomfortable sleep.

Taglist: @cyeco13

I’d like to give a quick thank you to both @sylasthegrim for the lovely chapter header and @arcielee for being my beta reader and suffering through my 2,000 “If this is a semi-colon and not a comma I’m gonna scream” comments.

Translations:

Byka Perzys - Little Flame

Ñuha Byka Jorrāelagon - My Little Love

Ñuha Dōna - My Sweet

Mirre iksis sȳrī, ñuha byka prūmia. Daorun kostagon ōdrikagon ao kesīr - All is well, my little heart. Nothing can hurt you here.

Byka Rhaperzys. - Little Spark

Mumuña - Grandmother

Kesan daor ōdrikagon zirȳla, iksan iā raqiros - I will not harm him, I am a friend.

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noxm22 · 2 years

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I JUST REALISED SOMETHING

In lmk when we first meet macaque. Him and sun wukong are fighting. We hear macaque taunting SWK by saying “the old you would have levelled this whole mountain range just to stop me” and we know that macaque stole swks powers.

HE’S TALKING ABOUT WHEN HE TOOK SWKS IDENTITY IN JTTW AND THEY FOUGHT. OH MY GOD

#lego monkie kid #journey to the west #jttw sun wukong #jttw macaque #lmk spoilers #lmk macaque #lmk shadowpeach #lmk sun wukong

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night-faye · 3 months

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"Yeah, well. Forever's a long time bud. Trust me." <- remember Pilots S1 where his contemplations of being immortal is delivered within a joke, remember also :) this when you watch the S4 special. MK: "Monkey King what are we supposed to do? Monkey King???" Wukong: *staring in horror at ink Macky.* "Haha. You know, you make a couple of mistakes in your life and no one ~ ever ~ lets you live it down." "Looks like the ghosts of my past have finally caught up with me." "You're nothing!" says Ink Macky. *eyes S3 ep 4 where he tells MK he's nothing.* So back when I said this could be a hypothetical hint of what he might've said to Wukong- your freedom's gone, you're not the Monkey King anymore ;) In the Chinese version, he says "You abandoned me." Which is totally different but 👀 delicious. Also note how he's tied up in this scroll memory! A lot like how he seemed to be tied up in shadows and in chains in that same ep's flashback 😉 aren't those screams making you so curious about what on earth was happening 😭 also don't you just love the way Wukong instinctively yells "no!" when you hear "Monkey! No violence!" definitely no trauma involved there. Oh, if Tripitaka used the circlet after Wukong accidentally(?) killed Mackaroo 🥺 "You see, this is why we don't resort to violence!" So uh, Wukong tries to hold back in fights as we saw with Nezha. And "Show me the real Sun Wukong! The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me!" He tries copying humans a lot, divorcing himself from the image of a "monster" that most people see him as. It doesn't seem he succeeds much 😔 welcome to the fun fic trope season of walking through memories yahooooo. For that reason above, I'm trying to compare Wukong and Macky's fang sizes to see whose more monkey and feral among them. A lil reversed, but Wukong holding back the ink spear is similar to him holding back Macky's smoke monster. It's okay, a more direct parallel to that scene will come later ;)

#faye watches lmk #lmk #lmk anon #lmk asks #faye answers

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yamiiwaii · 2 years

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Why I think Macaque is extremely BPD coded

Note: This is a breakdown of why I believe Macaque has BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) and how that shows in his actions and affects how he treats others. I will try my best to properly explain each symptom and how the show writes it into Macaque’s character as a whole. (This will be set up by symptoms and won’t reflect all episodes Macaque appears in, only putting emphasis on season 1 episode 9 and season 2 episode 7 in particular.)

Note: I am a Borderline and this will have some personal experiences reflected in how I deal with my disorder so. With that, let’s begin !!

Favorite Person

This isn’t necessarily a symptom as not every borderline has an fp but it is noted to be an important enough occurrence for it to be a staple of being borderline.

A favorite person is someone incredibly important in a borderline’s life that becomes their constant source of happiness and validation. It’s someone who the borderline goes to for the majority of their attention and heavily relies on that other person to the point where it damages their relationship.

Now you’re probably wondering, ‘What does this have to do with Macaque?’, well I am a firm believer that Wukong was (and still is) Macaque’s favorite person. He is very clearly co-dependent on Wukong and probably has been for centuries. He actively seeks out some sort of response from Wukong as a way to gain his attention. Going as far as messing with the next closest person to the ginger, his successor.

Macaque torments and mocks Wukong constantly because he thrives on negative attention. He may not fully register that it’s negative because it’s attention nonetheless, and it wouldn’t matter if it was positive or not because it has the same effect. With this in mind, you could see him changing the logo on Mk’s jacket as a statement meant to mock Wukong. (Because we know and have seen Macaque be a lot more sneaky with his attacks, he could have easily hidden it but he chose to keep it in the open and the logo even laughs at Wukong.)

He sees Wukong as a hero, someone who is loved widely by others, and this comparison goes hand in hand with Macaque calling him the sun. Something bright that shines upon everything and everyone around them. Mac says these things very bitterly though, despite showing us that he once saw the two as equals.

Because of this, it might be a bit debatable whether Macaque truly hates Wukong or not. Borderlines suffer from extreme emotional dysregulation and tend to amplify their emotions (will elaborate on this further down) so Macaque’s hatred could stem entirely from this dysregulation. But he uses these comparisons as a way to express his emotions without downright saying them, considering it’s safe to assume he sucks at putting his emotions into words. It makes him angry when Wukong doesn’t go all out when they fight, mocking him and lashing out in his anger. To the point where it becomes obsessive, and it’s causing him to spiral into these feelings of anger constantly. (Especially since he’s quick to resolve every problem with a fight)

“C’mon! Show me the real Sun Wukong! The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me, but now you’re afraid of hurting some kid? Pathetic!”

With the heavy reliance borderlines have on their fps, strong instances of jealousy are bound to sprout up and Macaque is a prime example of how that jealousy can affect someone’s actions towards those around them. When he’s introduced, he’s given this light carefree attitude seemingly to make him feel more approachable, at least from Mk’s perspective. When Mk asks him to teach that move he had done to hit the smoke monster, Macaque is quick to say a very backhanded thing that is very obviously meant to be a jab at Mk’s confidence. Both in himself and in Wukong’s teaching. (This could stem from Macaque’s jealousy of Mk, that this kid is who Wukong cares for so deeply and is able to stay on his good side. Unlike Macaque.)

“[...]...I’m sure Monkey king would agree. It’s not like he would want to hold you back.”

This jealousy leads to him projecting his insecurities onto Mk and causes him to have this warped impression of the kid before even meeting him. Macaque constantly mentions how alike Mk is to Wukong, in ways that only Macaque seems to notice. They’re all negative traits that Macaque amplifies or may have completely fabricated, calling him selfish and implying that Mk is going to eventually forget about his friends simply because he’s a hero, just as Wukong did. (It could also be part of the reason why Macaque’s steady target has been Mk). He even goes as far as to try and tell Mk he missed the point of his shadow play, causing Mk genuine confusion because he doesn’t believe he’s anything like how Macaque portrays Wukong. “Other people are going to tell you to be patient, they are slowing you down.”

Now, this can be reaching or something entirely different but you could see Macaque’s bitterness towards Wukong and his insistence that he’s a bad teacher slightly stemming from jealousy as well. We know Wukong isn’t actually a bad teacher, or at least not as bad as Macaque seems to emphasize, but he’s been so bitter that he’s convinced himself that Wukong is much worse than he actually is. And because of this, he tries pushing this mindset onto Mk so he doubts Wukong and leaves him, much like Wukong did to Macaque.

The most obvious thing that actually stood out to me first and was the reason I thought Mac had BPD in the first place was how incredibly personally he took the falling out. He reacted so violently to it that it’s permanently stuck on his mind at all times. The emotions from that moment are so amplified that Macaque is unable to move on, latching onto the events like a lifeline because it’s all he knows. He had dedicated the majority of his new life to getting revenge on Wukong for this falling out because he blames all of it entirely on the latter. There’s a headcanon that LBD may have altered his memories of that event to make him further hate Wukong but I don’t entirely believe that’s true. It’s possible LBD probably did have a little tweaking in his memories but I don’t think she altered anything related to Macaque’s feelings about Wukong because he already did that himself. Macaque sees that day as the day Wukong left him, abandoned him for a surge of power, and planted the idea in his own head that Wukong was being selfish. That Wukong must have left because Mac wasn’t useful anymore and therefore he must not have cared all that much, which makes Macaque an unreliable narrator and he’s shown to be manipulative and choosy with how he phrases things. He sees Wukong as a backstabber who was quick to leave as soon as he became that hero that Macaque equates to being close to Heaven. (see pedestal screenshot)

Macaque let himself become so overwhelmed by that abandonment that he firmly believes Wukong didn’t and probably never cared about him to the same degree that Macaque cared. (Even though it is implied that Wukong did care, the two being inseparable and doing everything together. The two even were equals at some point.) And as much as Macaque makes himself want to hate Wukong, he can’t truly do it because he’s still codependent on the other. He still seeks out Wukong’s attention and still aims to mock him, continuously bringing him up when he speaks with the other members of Mk’s group. He sees himself as someone who was ‘too close’ to Wukong and suffered the consequences of that, despite many of the consequences being forced on him by himself. (All this could be why he is so adamant about telling everyone how much he thinks Wukong sucks. He firmly believes Wukong was entirely in the wrong and he had nothing to do with it and jumps at the opportunity to play the victim card. Even if it means leaving out details that might paint it the other way.)

“What would you like to hear? The hero suddenly remembered his beloved friend the warrior? That they lived happily ever after?”

It's obvious that Macaque still cares so deeply for Wukong to the point where it could even be implied that he wants a happy ending. He wishes for that happy ending, to be able to say Wukong did remember him and did come back. Him constantly talking about this falling out and painting himself as the victim could be his way of saying he wishes it ended differently, could be his way of trying to raise a jumpstart in Wukong. It could be a way for him to try and see if maybe something else will come out of this, that doing the same thing over and over might cause a change of outcome. (Obviously, it doesn’t work because nobody knows what he’s thinking, ever.)

Intense fear of abandonment

This symptom is one that I think Macaque struggles with the most. He does not handle rejection that well and will do anything to avoid it, much like how he’ll do anything to avoid abandonment. He saw Wukong reject him and leave him and decided that he’ll never leave Wukong alone, that he will continue to show up because he will always be Wukong’s shadow. He saw Wukong leaving continuously as an attack on him as a person, immediately internalizing it and believing he was the problem. He makes sure to keep Wukong as close as an arm’s distance so that if Wukong does choose to leave again, Macaque won’t be as hurt by it as he was the first time. It causes him to dwell on the past, not being able to stop. He keeps reliving what happened because he truly believes he needs to accomplish some sort of justice against Wukong for what happened.

Alternatively, Macaque also will do anything to prevent new people from getting too close. When he notices that Mk is starting to grow on him, he starts to withdraw, amplifying his attempts at showing the kid he isn’t worth it. He becomes more and more aggressive throughout season 3, partly because of his rush to get out of lbd’s control but also because he’s slowly beginning to warm up to Mk’s group. (With the way his first initial idea was to try and convince Mk to come with him willingly and when he had done the same thing with Tang.)

He schemes and manipulates the people around him because its in his nature but also to keep their predetermined impression of him stay bad. Macaque hates relying on people, much rather staying and working alone than with others because of the disappointment it usually leads to. He doesn’t know how to properly open up anymore for fear of that other person leaving too.

Unstable relationships

As I’ve mentioned before Macaque’s relationship with Wukong was incredibly unstable. He valued Wukong much more than he valued himself, put Wukong on a pedestal, and idolized him, making him unreachable. But this could also be applied to Macaque’s relationship with Mk.

Macaque trains Mk, genuinely it seems and uses that opportunity to plant things into the kid’s head. Everything goes well before Macaque ultimately betrays him to go against Wukong, that being his ulterior motive the entire time. He continuously goes after Mk, causing the kid distress one after the other all in an attempt to get back at Wukong. Despite this all, Mk’s still willing to give him another chance in season 3 and Macaque doesn’t know how to handle that. (It is shown, or implied at least in season 3, that Macaque ends up showing legitimate care for Mk. He acknowledges that Mk is a good kid on two separate occasions, telling him that he’s happy there’s still “room for potential”.) He just prefers to keep Mk at a distance, despite the fact he seems to wear the title of Mk’s other mentor with pride.

Changes in self-identity and image

“A very, very powerful demon…”

“Since then you’ve had me teaching you! You’re stronger now!”

We all know this man has a ton of confidence, enough that he actively strokes his own ego every time he opens his mouth. His debut shows us how he sees himself as this strong ancient demon (even if he was referring to himself in the third person.) and he sees Mk as ‘stronger’ because he had Macaque teaching him.

Though in the same vein, he also understands that he isn’t as strong as he likes to brag he is. He still needed Wukong’s power to amplify himself before fighting him, again, (and even lbd acknowledges he needed aid and gives him some of her power after so many failed attempts). Macaque is power hungry and thrives on the taste of being powerful, on the thrill that comes from it, but his body can’t handle that power nor does he actually know how to use any of it. It’s part of why he relies more on his shadows and their sneakiness than he does entirely on his power. He’s an illusionist through and through and nothing more, but he keeps pushing himself for more power because he thinks he can handle it. He genuinely believes he can come out of these fights unscathed and winning and that could be the reason why he continues to go after Wukong.

“As the hero’s light grew, so too did his shadow. And soon the warrior was cast in that shadow. In the darkness, the warrior was forgotten by the hero.”

This comparison he has of himself as the moon shows just how alone he truly sees himself. The moon is something that is depicted as being reliant on the sun to shine despite it being alone and far from the sun’s reach. There’s solace in the way the moon rotates around the earth and stays in its own orbit, keeping itself confined to its single path. Sometimes the moon seeks out the sun’s warmth and they do finally come together, they make an eclipse. But the moon is always the one reaching after the sun and Macaque sees himself as constantly in Wukong’s shadow. He sees himself as someone who reached for Wukong and failed, being left behind in the other’s shadow where he truly belongs. He sees Wukong leaving as him losing his purpose, that he couldn’t keep up anymore and now wasn’t someone Wukong could see as an equal.

Macaque sees himself as a warrior, someone who’s a soldier fighting for themself and their own beliefs. He doesn’t think he’s ever capable of being a hero, or ever changing for the better because he pushed himself into this villain role. He’s accepted that he will always be someone’s villain and so he has never actively tried to change (at least not until Mk pushes him to). Even though he actively acknowledges he has things he should talk about, blatantly telling Mk to his face that if he ever did try talking things out they would be there all day. It’s this black and white thinking that keeps him from being better, that keeps him in this endless cycle of manipulation and gaslighting and hurting that he doesn’t ever try to break because he doesn’t see there being a point. He’d rather do anything and everything to get what he wants because just the thought of him doing something right or something different like working with people and helping them makes him scoff.

With how Macaque carries himself and how he seemingly just throws his life around, lbd’s revival of him probably left him with this constant detachment from reality. He constantly feels empty and incorporeal (which could also be from the fact he is. shadows.) He’s scared of death, the idea of merely going back to being non-existent and in chains causes him such full-body stress especially if it’s brought on forcefully by someone’s hands. He’s paranoid, constantly on edge (specifically throughout season 3) because Lbd has his life dangling in front of him and he’s desperate to take it back. Her whispers and chains poke and prob him, keeping him on high alert so much that it becomes a driving force for him to impulsively choose to stop following her orders. Anything to get rid of her.

Inappropriate intense anger

He is repeatedly shown to lose his temper, lashing out at pretty much everyone no matter what they do. He weaponizes Mk’s insecurities against him in anger, threatens his friends to get them to do what he wants, and pushes people into a corner. He’s quick to anger and irritate, especially if he feels he’s starting to lose control over a situation. (Because he is very much a control freak, constantly needing to keep things around him in his control so he can manipulate tier outcomes how he likes.)

All of his anger seems to be misplaced as well. He was so quick to throw all the blame for the falling out on Wukong but never took the time to think about how he could have been wrong too, considering relationships are two-sided. He let this anger fester and alter his once positive view of Wukong and now he just can’t fix it. Macaque’s angrier at the way Wukong left him, feeling more betrayed about that than at the fact that Wukong killed him.

His anger towards Mk is shrouded in insecurities and doubts about himself and Wukong and he feels wronged somehow seeing how much Wukong cares for Mk. Macaque actively tries forcing his mindset onto Mk, trying to worm his way into making the kid see Wukong differently by using his insecurities and doubts against him. He compares Mk to this fabricated impression he has of Wukong and tries to mold Mk into someone he knows Wukong wouldn’t want.

Macaque’s flashback that he gets briefly as Mk lunges toward him shows just how much he hangs onto the past. How much he hangs onto the emotions from that event and how he projects it onto Mk, seeing Wukong in Mk’s place briefly. It’s that same amplified POV that we hear Macaque talk about and Shadow Play shows just how much it shrouds his impression of Mk. Because truthfully, he doesn’t know much about the kid other than the insecurities Mk rambled out to him and that he’s Wukong’s successor. Macaque filled in the remaining gaps with things he took from his initial impression of Wukong and just assumed the two were the same with how close they are. He has no idea where to put all these emotions so he dumps them onto the laps of others to deal with, or to become the targets of.

Final thoughts

Overall, I think Macaque is the biggest bpd-coded character in all of lmk, it’s just right there. In all our faces. He’s an incredibly emotion-driven person, doing things based on how they make him feel rather than if it’s logical. He’s so shrouded in black and white thinking and in his splitting of Wukong that it keeps just a tight grip on his life and he really does need to go to therapy. He needs to learn to move on and actively be better because if this cycle isn’t broken soon he’ll just continue to hurt not only himself but the people around him. Whether he wants to or not.

I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE I tried really hard to articulate my thoughts and such but I might have repeated some things here and there. I also am a firm believer that Shadow Play is actively just one big bpd episode. Like I wholeheartedly believe that whole episode was Macaque having an episode and in the midst of it, he decides to mess with Mk, only to stop halfway through because he snaps out of it and realizes that Mk is being hard on himself enough. He willingly brings back up bad memories through a retelling just to achieve some sort of I told you so moment with Mk only for it to backfire on him and just make him feel worse. (while also attracting the attention of lbd)

I think it’s such an important episode to Macaque’s character and what comes of him, especially since it opens the gates to why he decides to do the things he does in season 3. It has so many details in it that show just how unreliable Macaque can be as a narrator, especially when he’s having moments like that. It shows how he’s the selfish one, not Wukong, and how he let something like this mold him into something so unrecognizable from his past self. All because he was filled with rage and betrayal. It’s easier to fight and hate each other than it is for Macaque to apologize for whatever he may have done and amend. It’s easier being the villain to everyone and being hated rather than owning up to your mistakes and trying to be better. He finds comfort in his black and white thinking, finds comfort in how the others hate him, and actively avoids fighting him.

ALSO THIS.

THE PARALLELS !!! It’s a moment where things finally actively dawn on Wukong and he’s suddenly in Macaque’s place, their roles reversed. Macaque being the one who has the upper hand, finding that “power beyond comprehension” and leaving Wukong behind. In reference to their relationship, it could be seen as the moment Macaque finally gets Wukong to understand how he felt when the latter left, how he felt being left behind. He finally makes Wukong feel how he felt, that same desperation at watching the other’s back being turned. But Macaque’s is tainted, being forced onto him, and is actively eating away at his body. It’s reflectively of how Macaque remembers it but it isn’t the exact same.

#🏮#lmk macaque #lego monkie kid #lmk wukong #lmk season 3 spoilers #kinda idk if it counts as spoilers per say ???#lego monkie kid mk #lego monkie kid sun wukong #character analysis #ive been holding this in for months at this point its crazy #ill cry if none of this makes sense deadass #but i wholeheartedly believe macaque has bpd and is very actively not doing anything but spiraling #like hes so manipulative and shrouded by his own emotions that everyone else has to deal with the things /he/ makes himself feel #everything provokes him and irritates him but he doesnt ever try anything productive to fix it other than fight because thats all he knows #it makes me a little upset how much the fandom woobifies him because hes so complex and noone seems to understand that hes not. an angel #hes just as in the wrong as wukong is. if not MORE in the wrong because of all the shit he did mk #i can go on and on about this istg #i also didnt include much from season 3 because it touches more on macaque's dynamic with lbd and i feel like thats a whole different topic #for another time #i hope yall have fun with this #i love shadow play and macaque's debut so much for these exact reasons #they are the reasons i am a borderline macaque truther #also because im a fictive but #and macaque is a little TOO much like me #but yeah #TAKE THIS OUT OF MY HANDS #six eared macaque #lego monkie kid macaque #long post #bpd

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theweirdhybrid · 2 years

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No because-

i Just realized king is a GOD (a Buddha) because he ended the journey so—

He's one of the strongest out of the wukongs, if not the strongest.

the only thing is that he keeps holding back

Well, yes, he has to hold back. If he doesn't people die, and most of the time the people that do are the people he was trying to protect.

Whenever I think about this, I always think of Mac saying "The old Wukong would've leveled this whole mountain range to stop me!" That takes a considerable amount of power, even for a god. Sure, in the book when Wukong breaks free from the mountain he decimates the whole thing, but it's only one mountain. I live in an area that has a lot of mountains, in fact I practically live in a mountain range. For Wukong to be able to level the entire range it would, well, it'd destroy at least a quarter of the country. Granted, the mountain range in the US is incredibly large compared to the ones in China, but you have to understand that even then it's a lot of ground he can destroy. It's likely why he didn't destroy that range during his fight with Mac, because MK would've been caught in the crossfire. And a part of me thinks that King didn't want to kill Mac again, too. And maybe he never did in the first place.

When King was being controlled by LBD, we could visibly see how much stronger he was compared to the moments before when he wasn't. Even when he fought the Mayor and LBD, he held back. He didn't even throw the Mayor off hard enough to kill him, just enough to put him out of the fight for a moment. He wasn't even hitting LBD that hard either, maybe because he didn't want her host to suffer too much, or maybe because he's just not that kind of person anymore. It wasn't that he wanted to kill her, he needed to. Because if he didn't, everyone would not only die, but they would cease to exist. Because LBD's goal wasn't just to kill everyone, it was to erase the entire universe along with the gods to stop the reincarnation cycle so that souls would no longer come back.

I think that he finally donned his armor again after so long because he felt that because of what he was about to do, he would be disgracing everything he learned on the Journey and everything he did up until that point. The last time he wore that armor he trapped DBK under the mountain, so I think that moment was his way of saying he was done with his old life. He was done with being the Monkey King, now he would just be Sun Wukong, an old monkey who lived on a magical mountain. And maybe he knew that one day the Monkey King would be needed again, so maybe he started looking for a successor. Maybe he already had one.

King is incredibly old and incredibly powerful, he's the Victorious Fighting Buddha, which is just a testament to his strength if his Buddha title is named for it.

So, yes, I'd say that King is holding back. He has to.

#into the wukongverse au #sun wukong #monkey king #lmk #lego monkie kid #character study #i have many thoughts on the monkey king #i'd be a horrible writer if i wasn't able to analyze and pick him apart #character study and analyzation is my passion #it comes easy to me #this ask just let me spill my thoughts on him

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triclitch · 2 years

Text

Macaque's ".. Show me the real Sun Wukong! The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me. "

Felt Hella personal....like I can't stop thinking that he's not only referencing Sun's power but also Sun killing Mac.

#lmk sun wukong #shadowpeach #six eared macaque #lmk macaque #lego monkie kid

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imminent-danger-came · 3 months

Text

Macaque: "Come on! Show me the real Sun Wukong! The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me! But you're scared of hurting some kid? Pathetic!"

(1x09 Macaque)

MK: "We have a plan! You could help! We could stop her together." Macaque: "*laugh* You can't even stop me!"

(3x04 The Winning Side)

#alright get ready for rapid fire lmk parallels posts #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk parallels #lmk Macaque #lmk MK

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ramzawrites · 3 years

Note

can I request one where on doomsday dream techno Phil and y/n team up. like this team is super op cuz they’re all good at pvp.

RAMZA I WANNA SAY I LOVE YOUR WRITING YOU ARE VERY POG. STAY HYDRATED EAT WELL AND SLEEO WELL!!!

Reader Joins Team Doomsday

Pairings: none

Characters included: Technoblade, Philza, Dream, Quackity, Ponk, Tubbo, (mentioned Tommy)

Warnings: fighting, mention of death (non descriptive), falling (non descriptive), cursing

Series: a request by a nice anon 💙

Summary: Dream and Technoblade just teamed up in front of almost whole L’Manberg which was a catrastrophic outcome in of itself but when Dream exteneded his invite for teaming up also to Y/N? The L’Manberg people knew they were absolutely screwed.

Words count: 3930

Authors Note: Thank you for the request!! 💙 Also thank you for the nice words!!! I hope you are doing well! Please make sure to stay hydrated and that you rest as well! Thank you pog anon!!

„Listen, we will blow up L’Manberg this time tomorrow!” Dream yelled out. His voice echoing through the ruin that used to be the Community House. All while he was surrounded by a handful of people decked out in armor brandishing their weapons.

Techno stood close by him. A sick grin on his face while he held his infamous rocket launcher between his hands. No surprise there that he would immediately jump on the idea of blowing up this government, especially after they went out of their way trying to kill him while he was in retirement.

A few people let out shocked gasps or surprised exclamations as Dream announced this. Knowing that Dream was a hundred percent serious with this, as well as Techno. Those two were a dangerous combination. A deadly even.

So when Dream moved his head upwards to look at Y/N who seemed to stoically stare at the happenings and calmly asked “Won’t you join us, Y/N?” Everyone’s worry spiked even more.

Y/N scoffed and slammed the end of the trident they were holding onto the small bit of solid ground they were standing on “You already know my answer, Dream.”

While Techno seemed to be a bit confused for a few seconds he appeared to make the connection. Those two have talked about this beforehand.

The others didn’t seem to understand though.

“Y/N? You are joining them?” Tubbo sounded downright hurt.

In that moment Quackity chimed in as well “You are betraying us?”

The grip on Y/N’s trident strengthened “You bet I will! You guys never treated me like one of yours! All I was good for was to get you better gear or play body guard! Hell, at some point you guys basically imprisoned me only to let me out to train you on how to fight Techno! One of my dear friends! How does this surprise you?”

People were already panicked and scared but this was the disaster scenario. There were only three people on this server known for being amazing fighters and all three of them just banded together to destroy their home and possibly kill them all.

Before anyone could retort Dream clapped loudly in his hands to pull everyone’s attention back on himself “We gave you the warning, that’s all. See you all tomorrow.”

With that Dream used an Ederpearl to flee. Y/N followed him suit, having all of this planned out beforehand. Though this also meant they awkwardly left Techno behind but he should be fine. After all he was the Technoblade and as everybody knew Technoblade never dies.

Once the two were far enough away Dream turned to Y/N “Thanks. I appreciate what you are doing. Wouldn’t want to fight against you.”

Y/N laughed “Neither do I. They already looked so scared with your team up with Techno but after you pulled me in they really looked like sheets of paper. It was… interesting to see. Either way I should be the one thanking you. You are giving me a chance for revenge.”

They continued to move towards a snowy tundra. Dream taking the lead since Y/N has been stuck in L’Manberg in the last few months. They wore netherite armor but it was unenchanted. Given to them by the butcher army after they told them of their plan to kill Dream.

The original plan was that Y/N would join them later and make sure that they will be alright. Playing a bodyguard for them once again. Normally they would have used the given armor and weapons as soon as they got it to flee but Dream has met them before this even happened. Hatching out a plan together so in the end this gear was an added bonus that gave extra protection while they fled with Dream.

“Why are we here?”

“Well we gotta prepare.” Dream answered as if that would answer Y/N’s question sufficiently.

While Y/N didn’t exactly truly trust Dream, mostly due to the fact they trusted no one, they didn’t feel the need to ask him to elaborate and instead continued to follow him dutiful. He had something planned and they had to follow him no matter what.

Where else could they go? Their only home was in L’Manberg even if it was more of a prison.

Dream was an enigma to them. Y/N had fought with the man a few times and it was always incredibly tiring every time which was something new for them.

Both Dream and Techno were physical strong, though Y/N suspected that Techno was a bit stronger simply because of his Piglin side.

Techno was a master at preparing and using everything to his disposal and if he didn’t have it he wasn’t scared to spend a ludicrous amount of time to gather these items. He was like a true juggernaut. People called him the Blood God for a reason after all.

Dream was more versatile. Of course he did plan things beforehand but he was better at acting during the situation. If the situation changed you can bet that he was already three moves ahead and noticed things around him he can use for his advantage. Now combine this with the knowledge he had about the world and he seemed almost unstoppable.

Just like Dream and Techno they too were physical strong which came naturally over the years but they relied more on their speed. Being a master at dodging blows and abusing peoples weak spots before they even realize they had any.

Now that they teamed up Y/N could understand how the people begun to fret. Alone the three were a force to be reckoned with but together it wasn’t hard to imagine that they could level a whole city or a nation in this specific case.

“Here, we arrived.” Dream almost whispered. His porcelain mask hiding his satisfied smile as he spotted Techno talking with Philza inside what looked like a nether wart farm. Probably telling him about what just happened and how Tommy betrayed him.

Philza waved towards the two new arrivals “Hello Dream and Y/N.”

Surprised Techno turned around.

“What? We have to plan this somehow even a little bit. This is a bit bigger than just winging it.” Dream explained.

Techno stepped out of the farm and dug his finger into Dream’s shoulder “I have a bone to pick with you two.” He made sure to throw his frown towards Y/N as well as he said that “You just left me! You left me alone surrounded by like thirty people!”

Dream slowly pushed Techno’s hand away from him “And yet here you stand alive and well.”

“No thanks to you!”

“Boy, am I glad to finally meet my old friend Technoblade after being imprisoned inside my own home.” Y/N interjected, already having heard enough of their bickering.

Philza sharply sucked in some air “Yeah, I know what that feels like.”

Techno sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose “Don’t get me even started on you. They started a government right in front of us, you helped me build the Wither’s that destroyed them and yet you still stayed.”

“Oh, Techno you know very well what happened! They managed to catch me when I made sure to keep them off your back as you fled! Besides it gave me time to find out more about their structure and what was happening! I couldn’t know we wouldn’t need it in the end since Dream himself appeared to join our cause in this instance!”

Dream was calm and collected before but now he seemed almost apalled that Y/N would throw such an accusation against him “What?! Now it’s my fault?!”

Phil made his way towards the arguing warriors and made sure to stand in between them, they wouldn’t fight, not yet at least, the fight wasn’t heated enough for that but he needed to get their attention off each other “Okay, I think that is enough. You only have so much time to plan Doomsday.”

“You are right Phil, of course. Well then I have to show both Dream and Y/N something.” Techno seemed to have calmed down and made his way towards his home. Dream followed him and Y/N was about to follow him as well but Philza stopped them by laying his hand on their shoulder.

“Are you okay? You basically have been locked up by the L’Manbergians longer than me”

Y/N smiled softly “Besides missing my old gear? I am alright. Really. But thanks for asking.”

This seemed to be answer enough since he let his hand fall back to his side and instead concentrated on Techno who came running out of his house again with a button in his hand. Dream closely following and confused. Y/N assumed he was confused by his body language but it was hard to tell with his mask.

“Please follow me.”

So the group did as he ran around the corner towards a mountain range. All the while complaining to Chat, the voices in his head, that they had wants for completely unrelated things.

He placed the button down and pressed it. With the loud sounds of pistons moving a flat stone wall begun retracting giving away to a room with wither skulls on the back of the room. Soul Sand structures decorating the room as well as a few chests and what looked like the start of a netherite armor set.

“What!?” Dream exclaimed in his typical fashion running into the hidden place to get a better look at the Wither skulls.

While Y/N was certainly impressed by this something felt off about this. Technically those were a ton of Wither skulls since they are incredibly hard to get by but it didn’t feel enough for Techno but Y/N chose to hold their thoughts to themself.

“As you can see we have enough for a few Withers and combined with, you mentioned raining down TnT?”

“Yeah, Yeah I did. A machine that will literally rain down TnT on the nation.”

“Yeah, combined with that and our fighting power we shouldn’t have a problem destroying L’Manberg.”

Y/N stretched “Okay, we got the gist of the plan I guess but I want a proper one. How will this go down exactly?”

The next day Y/N woke up early. More out of habit than need. They put on their freshly enchanted netherite armor and grabbed their new weapons as well. A netherite sword, crossbow and trident. Techno was already up, probably way before them. He was meticulous when it comes to preparing for fights after all.

As Y/N climbed down the ladder to get to the main level of Techno’s house they found him looking through a chest.

“Morning Techno and thanks for the makeshift bed and letting me sleep over.”

“Seeing as you are currently homeless I didn’t really have a choice and besides it makes it easier to meet up. Even though mister green Teletubby thought otherwise.” He grumbled “By the way there are some baked potatoes inside the furnace. Feel free to grab some.”

Y/N nodded and moved towards the furnace grabbing their breakfast. Potatoes, how typical.

The next few hours was spent by Techno, Philza and Y/N brewing potions as well as warming up. They got into their armor and made sure all of their equipment was working.

Now imagine their surprise while all of them were deep in their preparations and Dream appeared a good hour or so too early.

“Dream? Already here?” Y/N asked him.

He laughed “What? Already sick of me? I’m joking but there is a small change in plans. Let’s get going. Now.”

In the last part the tone in his voice changed from happy to serious which gave Y/N a bit of whiplash with how fast he could apparently change his emotions.

Technoblade pivoted his head to the side “Why already? Did something happen?”

Thankfully Dream shook his head “No, but let’s catch them off guard. If we go now they will surely be surprised.”

“Huh. He has a point.” Philza noted.

So the small group, they begun calling themselves Team Doomsday, started making their way towards L’Manberg but not without first getting Techno’s Hound Army. It was a bit stressful to get through the Nether with them but in the end they managed to reach the Community Nether Portal which led them close to the nation.

“I’m getting ready for the TnT, you all three get into the city and begin doing your thing. Techno as soon as you give me the signal I will spawn Withers and start the machine.” Dream ranted off resulting in Y/N rolling their eyes.

“Dream we were there when we planned this all.”

“Right.” And with that he vanished.

Technoblade turned to Philza “And you stay out of danger. Just spawn some Withers and by Ender stay out of danger. Call for us if anyone gets too close to you.”

This was Philza’s time to roll his eyes “Mate, I know. I’ll be fine!”

He most likely would. Philza was some apparently immortal being after all that still somehow only had one life. It was confusing but Y/N didn’t want to ask since Philza himself seemed to be very secretive about his nature.

With that Philza made sure to stay far away from Techno and Y/N. Still watching them but from a safe distance, holding onto the bag with the extra Wither skulls from Techno.

Together Y/N and Techno ran into the city with the wolves. As soon as Techno spotted Tubbo he immediately ordered his hounds to attack but didn’t attack himself immediately. He needed Tubbo to call the others so this thing could really start. After all, all of them had to get what’s due for them.

And indeed it didn’t take long for Quackity and the others to appear.

“Shit, it’s both Y/N and Techno!”

“Where is Dream!”

“No, idea!”

“We are so fucked!”

The people were scrambling, trying to protect their home but every time they got too close to Techno or Y/N the hounds would throw themselves at them. It was almost ironic how when Sapnap appeared the fight really begun.

“Techno I’ll deal with the people! I think it’s time for our secret weapon!” Y/N yelled over the chaos as they kicked Quackity away.

Between the L’Manbergian party Sapnap and Punz were definitely the biggest problem but as it looked like Punz barely participated. Sapnap was a definite surprise so Y/N wanted to deal with him if they get the chance. Test their mettle against him and maybe find out what moved him to work against Dream so readily.

“Got you!” Techno answered, showing that he heard them.

He got out his rocket launcher and shot a few rounds into the air, giving Dream and Phil both the sign. When Techno himself also got out some soul sand the others understood what was happening and tried their best to reach the Pig Hybrid.

Unfortunately for them the hound army and Y/N stopped them dead in their track.

Y/N had no problem running from person to person to either deflect their attack or kick them away from Techno as he built his little contraption. Two Withers already begun flying towards the middle of the nation. This broke up the group and a few decided to dedicate their fighting prowess to ensure that the Withers wouldn’t cause too much damage.

To that suddenly red TnT blocks suddenly begun raining down from the sky. A manic laughing Dream standing on top of an obsidian structure.

While the people scrambled to not die to the Withers, the dogs or the explosions, Team Doomsday, minus Phil, saw their chance to properly get into the fights.

Y/N didn’t spend any time waiting and immediately jumped in front of Sapnap’s way brandishing their sword. A smirk on their face.

Sapnap looked determined but worry still managed to crack through his expression. He locked his eyes with theirs and moved in heaving his sword up in order to strike them.

But Y/N stayed calm. They took a step forward and practically flowed around him, dodging his attack as they slammed down the sword at his side. It made contact with his armor but as it slid down the metal it managed to hit an exposed part of his arm.

Hissing Sapnap tried hitting them with a sweeping move towards their direction. Y/N used their sword to redirect his weapons movement away from them.

“Your reaction time is good! Too bad I’m better.” Y/N mused as they went back in to attack him.

They attacked him again, giving him a false sense as he tried to block their incoming attack only for them to move around again and kick him in the back of his knee. His leg buckled and crashed down into the dirt. Without any mercy Y/N kicked him again in his leg using the extra strength they had due to the strength potions.

“Fuck!” Sapnap cried out and put his hand inside a brown bag on his side, getting out an Enderpearl and throwing it away. He soon followed and disappeared as well.

“Oh no! You get back here! I haven’t even had the chance to ask you what the hell you think you are doing!”

But Sapnap didn’t hear them. He was too busy dodging attacks from a Wither.

“Y/N!” It was Phil calling out to them. As Y/N looked to where his voice came from they noticed both Ponk and Quackity coming closer to him. They knew he probably could deal with them but still. He was on his last life after all. Extra caution was warranted.

Y/N angled their own Enderpearl towards the blonde brit. Originally planned to be used to follow Sapnap but Phil was more important right now.

The wind got knocked out of their lungs as they landed in front of Phil. The sound of metal hitting each other rung out. A sword hitting Y/N’s armored back.

For a second Phil looked surprised only to jump back to his serious expression as he managed to see Y/N’s smile. He immediately got out a splash potion and threw it at himself and Y/N. They immediately noticed their strength returning. A healing potion. He got another one which seemed to be a strength potion, prolonging the effect that was already on them.

Thankful for the small pit stop Y/N turned around while he was busy throwing the strength potions, looking Quackity right in his face.

Quackity looked pretty confident before but now he was white as snow. Ponk put his second hand on the hilt of the sword. His sword was the one that clattered down on Y/N only to get parried by their armor.

“You betrayed us! Y/N! Do you really wanna do this?” Quackity tried to appeal to them.

Y/N sneered “How does this surprise you still? How? How does this not get in your head? You imprisoned me and made me work against my will against one of my only friends? How does this not enter your thick skull?”

They moved their arm up and brought it down on Quackity. It didn’t surprise them that he managed to parry it with his own but Y/N doubled down pressing down on the blade with their own. Effectively locking him into this position.

Obviously Ponk saw his chance and tried attacking Y/N who was preoccupied with the Vice President but Philza was still there. He just had to extend his trident and managed to interlock Ponk’s blade between the forks of his weapons.

“Phil!” Weirdly enough he seemed to be surprised by that.

“You were about to attack me! Don’t sound so shocked!”

Y/N pushed even harder on Quackity, forcing him to take a step back, getting dangerously close to the edge of the crater that the TNT is still in the progress of making.

“You are just as bad as Techno. Just as bad as Dream.” He spat. Still trying to work against Y/N’s strength.

“From what I saw in my time in this L’Manberg I very much prefer that. At least they treat me like a human person and not just as a weapon to be used!”

With that Y/N musted up the rest of their strength and pushed even harder down. Forcing out a yell as they pushed him one last time. Quackity not having enough strength to hold out anymore had to take another step only to find that there was no ground anymore. He slipped and fell down into the crater.

Not wasting any time Y/N spun towards Ponk who was clashing his sword against Philza’s shield. He was a good enough fighter but it still looked pathetic. He was too desperate.

Y/N used the adrenaline of arguing with Quackity to run and throw their whole body into Ponk. Making him stumble and fall down onto the ground.

Pointing their sword at his throat “I’m sorry Ponk. I respect you for standing up to your ideals but here is the end of the road today for you. Maybe next time you will have a better chance.”

His eyes widened and a weak protest left his mouth but Y/N ignored it. Pushing their sword down, killing him. His body dissolving into golden dust. He was returning to his bed and respawning.

Phil looked at his worn out shield “You okay, Y/N?”

They laughed dryly “I should ask you that. I am fine. I am holding my own out here, how are you?”

“I’m luckily good as well. Thanks for helping me, Y/N.”

It was sad to think about how they never got a proper thanks from the L’Manberg people. It was expected that they helped them.

Y/N nodded “Always.”

They wanted to jump back into the fight but suddenly Dream stood next to them. Looking over the crater.

The opposing party was scattered. Now more dealing with injuries than the fights. Only one Wither left flying around. The crater reached bedrock and yet the explosions still rang.

“I think it’s time we go. This nation is done for.” He spoke.

Techno joined the party. He looked like he was doing alright. His armor obviously scratched up but he was doing alright.

“I say we seemed to be successful.” He noted.

Dream put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder “I saw you fight. Did you know that a few people did a wide berth around you? Avoiding you at all cost?”

Y/N raised one of their eyebrows as they stared at Dream’s masked face. His head directed straight ahead as he observed Tommy who helped Tubbo with one of his injuries he acquired when he protected him from one of Techno’s rockets.

A few seconds passed in silence but then he turned his head towards Y/N “They are scared of you. Proof of your strength. Do with that knowledge what you will but I thought I should tell you since it was interesting to watch from above.”

“Let’s get going. If we wait long enough for them to recuperate then we might still have a problem since we are getting low on potions as well.” Techno spoke in a calm voice.

Truly. For Tommy, Tubbo, for all of the people who tried to protect L’Manberg. The team up of Dream, Techno, Philza and Y/N was their biggest nightmare that just came to fruition.

They knew they didn’t have a chance and yet they had to try. Had to try to protect their home like they always did but it was a vain effort. Who would have enough power to fight against warrior gods?

#mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x Y/N #dream smp reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp reader insert #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #technoblade #technoblade fanfiction #dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken fanfiction #philza #philza fanfiction #ramza writes

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 3 years

Note

I know its kinda late to ask this when those 2 monkeys were fighting in "Macaque", Macaque said "The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me! but you're scared of hurting some kid!? pathetic " meaning that Wukong was purposefully holding back his true power to not hurt MK, I guess even with Monkey Kings power he still wasn't an equal (Damn imagine Sun Wukong's true power)

Anon, anon, have you looked at Journey to the West? Have you looked at it. Monkey Mans fought the entirety of heaven/the celestial realm, literally took on deities and armies, tried to fight Buddha himself. He lifted a pillar that literally held up the ocean. He walked into a room and a dragon king was doing everything he could to keep him from getting annoyed for fear of him taking down his entire palace.

Ya darn right he was holding back hKLGOAWHEF

(there is that theory of him transferring his powers over to Mk which could mean he wasn't holding back but was actually struggling because he's given most of his strength away, which is interesting but)

YEAH MONKEY'S A LOT STRONGER THAN A LOT OF PEOPLE IN THIS FANDOM REALIZE HKGAMFOAWE

#knox rambles #asks #anon #Monkie kid #read jttw man #trust me it's intimidatingly long but like THE MONKEY

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greatsagestonemonkey · 3 years

Text

About “Shadow Play”

Warning! Spoilers ahead!

Okay, so, after watching “Shadow Play”, I had to write this out because a lot of people are talking about it and I had to lay out my two cents without being limited to a tiny box...

Possible spoilers for both Lego Monkie Kid Season 2 episode “Shadow Play” AND for Journey to the West, so be warned!

Okay for starters, the episode had a lot to unpack, but this is going to be covering the whole issue of “Poor Macaque” and “what the fuck Wukong”. THAT being said, I definitely LOVED the episode, it was fantastic! But I feel like this needs to be talked about because the writing for the episode tells a LOT more than I think people are seeing. That’s what I want to discuss here.

So, we all know from the story Macaque told in the episode, that he and Wukong go WAY back, the parallel of the Sun and the Moon was used, with Wukong being the Sun and Macaque being the Moon, of course, and that eventually Macaque was left behind by Wukong and he appears to be quite bitter about that. This is where I’ve noticed a lot of people bringing up the “what the fuck Wukong” bit... BUT, they seem to be overlooking something important here:

Wukong’s circlet. Also known as the “cursed hat” or “tightening band”. People who have read the book know that this circlet was given to Wukong by Tripitaka (also courtesy of Guan Yin) to keep Wukong in line. “Why?” many of you are probably asking... Well, it’s not just because Wukong is insanely powerful, that’s just part of the reason; a very MINOR reason.

The main and most important reason that people often forget about Wukong is that he is IMPULSIVE to a fault. For the first six chapters of Journey to the West, Wukong is driven PURELY by his impulsive desires. He never listened to anyone! His rampage through Heaven was testimony to that, as was his taking Buddha’s challenge to escape his palm, and in the end, his own hubris was his downfall. But even after being imprisoned for 500 years, Wukong hadn’t changed much. Or at all, in fact. That is why Tripitaka needed the circlet and the tightening mantra that came with it to control him; because Wukong wouldn’t listen to him AT ALL. It was only after Tripitaka had an effective way to discipline the monkey that Wukong started to actually do as he was asked. And as the book goes on, Wukong becomes more compliant, actually listening and doing as asked without Tripitaka having to use the tightening mantra to get Wukong to calm down. There’s actually a pretty compelling scene later on in the book (I don’t remember the exact chapter or page) where Tripitaka stops Wukong from attacking a demon minion JUST by calling out his name, whereas before he would have to recite the mantra to get him to stop.

There’s another infamous scene where Wukong is moved to tears by Tripitaka’s compassion for others, whereas earlier in the book Wukong wouldn’t have really bothered much with pity for others. Like seriously. He couldn’t be bothered to look after anyone but himself or his monkeys. He was kind of a selfish dick that way. But in that particular scene, it showed that Wukong had changed A LOT since being made to stop and listen to Tripitaka every once in awhile via the circlet. It was kind of like a wake-up call for him, in a way.

Anyway, we can clearly see the circlet on Wukong’s head in this scene when Macaque is showing how Wukong left. I know we can see it in earlier ones too, but I think the reason for that is because that’s how Macaque sees Wukong, but we’ll come back to that in a bit.

Now, we all know that Macaque is supposed to represent Wukong’s darker side, his “shadow”. And one thing that I think the writer’s made clear in this episode is that Macaque hasn’t changed much. He’s still the dark half, the side of Wukong that will always be in the shadows; the part of him that was BEFORE Wukong changed due to his travels with Tripitaka. Since it’s hinted that Macaque was with Wukong before his rampage through heaven and his 500 year imprisonment, we know that he saw the side of Wukong that existed before Wukong went through the various level of character development that he did in the Journey to the West. And the thing that the writers for “Shadow Play” make clear is that Macaque doesn’t completely understand why Wukong changed.

Macaque wasn’t there for the Journey. Which was probably his choice. The writers of this episode, and of the episode “Macaque” make it clear that Macaque hasn’t changed much in the centuries. He himself makes that clear by referring to himself as Wukong’s shadow, and with the parallel of the sun and the moon. And because he wasn’t there, because he stayed in the shadows, he clearly doesn’t understand the reason behind Wukong’s change and choice to stay by Tripitaka’s side through the Journey, despite being jilted and hurt by the monk plenty of times.

Wukong chose to stay with Tripitaka because he was changing, growing, for the better, even if he himself didn’t realize it right away. But when he did realize it, he chose to stay, even if that meant leaving behind a part of him--or even someone--that he held very dear; Macaque.

Which now brings us to this next part people keep talking about:

The scene where Macaque apparently gets his scar.

We now know for certain that Macaque gets his scar from Wukong. And a lot of people have been expressing their curiosity over why the two ended up fighting each other, or what could have prompted Wukong to wound someone he was supposed to have cared about in such a way.

Well, for those of you who have read the book, you probably know why exactly why. For those who haven’t, in the chapter where the Six Eared Macaque first makes his appearance, he attacks and wounds Tripitaka badly; like with the full intention of killing him kind of badly. I won’t spoil the whole chapter for you, but long story short, is that when confronted after his identity as “the false monkey king” is revealed, he confesses that his plan is to kill everyone in the Journey Crew--minus Wukong--and replace them with duplicates that he has created.

Now, we know from previous episodes of the series so far, that Wukong cares for the rest of the Journey Crew VERY MUCH. He’s kept momentos from the Journey and even made those little origami figures of them with that little shrine in the New Years Special. And we’ve seen how he gets when you threaten someone he cares about via the scene of him with Lady White Bone in that very same special.

THAT is what their fight was about.

Macaque hurt someone Wukong cared about, and Wukong retaliated in kind. Maybe he went a little too far, but he definitely wasn’t going to let it slide. It was almost literally “an eye for an eye”.

Now we come back to that bit of how Macaque sees Wukong, as promised. Macaque shows off Wukong with the circlet in the play because he again, doesn’t understand the reason behind Wukong’s change. He probably knows what the circlet does, and thus sees it and the one who controls it as the reason. This is probably why he attacked Tripitaka; in Macaque’s mind, without Tripitaka, without the tightening mantra, Wukong will go back to being his old self.

Macaque doesn’t understand that Wukong was changing without the circlet being used on him. He says this himself in Episode 9 of Season 1, when he delivers the line, “The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me! But you’re scared of hurting some kid?!”

That. Right there. Says SO much now that we’ve seen Shadow Play.

Wukong changed for reasons that Macaque doesn’t understand; Wukong grew to care about others and the consequences of his actions. But because Macaque stayed behind, he still holds onto Wukong’s old ways, and he wants that back. He used the analogy of himself as the warrior in the story, and even told MK about the “happy ending” because deep down that’s what he wants. He wants the old Wukong back because that’s the Wukong he understands.

Then we come to the line where he tells MK that he’s “a bit too much” like Monkey King, right after the flashback of how he got his scar. If we refer to that bit above again, we know that Macaque got his scar from Wukong after he tried to kill Tripitaka and very nearly turned the whole Journey Crew against Wukong completely. And what was Macaque doing in this scene?

The same thing.

He was using MK’s friends against him, which ticked MK off to the point where MK went almost blind with rage in an effort to get his friends back. We see in that brief flashback, that Macaque saw that bit of Wukong in MK; the part that cared too much.

This is also where we see a bit of growth in Macaque, and again I refer to the flashback. He realizes he’s reliving a moment where he possibly went too far, and decides to back out before it goes even further to a point where he gets hurt. But that’s also testament to how much he hasn’t changed over the centuries; he’s still only the best at looking out for himself, just like Wukong was before Tripitaka changed him.

His whole conversation with MK after the fight also shows how much he wants the old Wukong back and doesn’t want to see MK go down the same path, and we see it through the whole episode; he sees MK and Wukong as too “soft” now. They get concerned too easily with others, and what will happen if they fail, whereas Macaque is overconfident to a fault, looks out for “old number one” (himself) and doesn’t have the inconvenience of looking out for others to weigh him down or to blind him from his person goals. That’s why he tells MK he’s not ready, not because he lack the ability, but because he lacks the survival instinct. That same survival instinct that Macaque is used to.

In conclusion, Macaque both is and isn’t the victim here. He’s not Wukong’s victim, he’s his own victim; victim to his own misunderstanding and his own unwillingness to change or to accept change. It’s actually something we see in a lot of people, but we’re often unaware of because the signs are often hard to read, and I think that’s why a lot of people have reacted to this episode in the way they have. Again, I’m not saying that this episode was bad or anything, again, it was fantastic! The writers did an outstanding job, I just think there’s a lot more that they were trying to tell us with how they played it out that a lot of people aren’t seeing, and I really wanted to address that.

WHEW! Anyway, I think that about covers everything... sorry this is so long, and if you read this far, thank you so much for giving this a read!

#monkie kid #season 2 #spoilers #journey to the west #macaque #wukong #shadow play #psychology talk #warning long post

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