#I know I’m not obligated like. I did promise but extenuating circumstances and I know everyone would understand

[a-world-in-grey]

Galahd-Lucis Fealty and the Situation Post-Burning

@secret-engima more Lucis worldbuilding!

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Alright, if you haven't read this post regarding oaths of fealty and the ones Galahd swears to Lucis, I recommend it, since I'll be jumping directly off those headcanons.

First however, establishing the situation of the Galahdians in current day Lucis.

Short version: Not great.

Long version: Little Galahd is very clearly not the wealthiest part of Insomnia. One could even call it the slums (though I'm sure in-verse it's merely referred to as 'the bad part of town,' no need to acknowledge why it's that way).

We also see significant anti-Galahdian sentiment in Insomnia, even in just the little bit in the Kingsglaive movie, which means there's probably a whole lot more off screen that we don't see.

So the Galahdians are likely living from paycheck to paycheck in substandard housing (barely up to safety code if at all), with difficulty getting jobs that pay enough, all the while enduring racism from the native Lucians.

We don't know how ugly that treatment gets - if the Galahdians have to deal with corrupt police, hate crimes, discrimination from vendors, educators, medical professionals, etc. That is entirely dependent on the author.

In the various SoHL-verses, two members of Lucis' ruling council actively discriminate against the Galahdians - the Lord of Housing/Urban Development and the Lord of Finance. You can probably imagine how that affects the Galahdians.

So where does Galahd's oaths of fealty come in?

Their treaty with Lucis when they submitted to the Lucian Empire and how it relates to the Great War and the Burning.

Specifically, it relates to the clause where the Galahdians promise to stay in Galahd. And Lucis promises to stay out of Galahd.

I don't doubt there was a very detailed clause that specified how much of the population had to remain in the Isles for it to count as Galahd staying in Galahd, and may have included a number of clauses defining exactly who counted as Galahdian, rather than Lucis assuming 'people from Galahd,' and Galahdians assuming 'One of the Clans.' (Then again, maybe the treaty didn't specify, which could lead to some spectacular misunderstandings. And by spectacular, I mean messy.)

I also expect there were specific clauses defining what it meant for Lucis to stay out of Galahd, or rather defining who was allowed in Galahd for certain purposes and just where they were permitted to go without explicit permission from the Clans. Which can basically be boiled down to 'merchants are allowed at these specific ports for the purpose of trade,' with more clauses in the event of a shipwreck.

Now, the important question is if the treaty included a clause detailing what would happen if one of Lucis' enemies invaded Galahd, or what would happen if Galahd became uninhabitable.

The former is very likely, especially given the clause that Galahd will only fight wars on Lucis' behalf, which makes them a military target even before one considers their strategic location.

The latter, on the other hand, I find far less likely to be included. If only because I doubt anyone would have thought Galahd would be razed to the ground or made otherwise uninhabitable. The Galahdians are no strangers to disaster, hurricane season is probably a nightmare for Clans, but there was probably the assumption that they'd be able to fall back on aid from other Clans, like they've always been able to do.

I doubt anyone thought something could happen to displace everyone.

So, Galahd promises to keep at least the majority of their population in the Isles. Lucis promises to stay out of Galahd, but also to aid Galahd if they are invaded by the enemy. For centuries, this works out (mostly) fine.

Then the Great War happens.

And Mors pulls the Wall.

Suddenly, Niflheim is occupying Galahd.

Now, there are a couple different paths to take with the occupation. It could be a full military occupation with the intent to bring Galahd into the Empire. Or, it could be Niflheim corporate interests moving in to exploit Galahd's natural resources, bringing along private mercenaries that are technically civilian.

(I suppose it depends how you want to define 'invade.' And if you would have Lucis count 'armed civilians' as an invasion.)

At this point, depending on the clauses in the treaty, Lucis breaks their fealty to Galahd if they fail to sufficiently aid them against enemy invasion.

(And even then, one could still argue that Mors broke fealty when he pulled the Wall, because he failed to defend Galahd after they swore loyalty even though he was capable of doing so. Because I fully hc the Mors did not have to pull the Wall all the way back to Insomnia.)

Which means Galahd is no longer required to hold to their oath of fealty to Lucis.

Then the Burning happens, and everyone in Galahd is displaced to Lucis. At which point Galahd breaks the treaty, and Lucis is no longer obligated to hold to their agreements.

Now, at this point in history, it has been centuries since Lucis and Galahd signed that treaty. How long has it been since anyone truly read the thing? Who has read it, both in Lucis and Galahd?

How many Galahdians who know the details survive the Burning?

How many of the Galahdian copies of the treaty survive?

Few, if any, surviving Galahdians know the specifics of the treaty their oaths of fealty are based on. The surviving Chiefs and Keepers will manage to keep their oaths yes, but those oaths are more along the lines of 'I the Chief swear fealty on behalf of me and my Clan to the King of Lucis, by the terms agreed to by our forefathers' than anything truly specific.

And in Lucis, it's likely equally few actually know the specifics, because it's been so long since anyone truly needed to consult the thing. Sure, the King and certain council members will have read it at some point during their schooling/training, but they won't have it memorized.

It could be that everyone's forgotten the whole 'Galahdians stay in Galahd, Lucians stay out' part anyways, because modern day trade between the two is fairly bustling, and there could be some tourism on both sides too. And I doubt they'll think to consult it when the Galahdians come to Lucis - after all, the Galahdians are technically Lucian.

Unless some skeevy corrupt politicians do look at the treaty, to see exactly what loopholes they can exploit.

So we've got two potential scenarios here.

One is that Lucis broke fealty first, and therefore no Galahdian is obligated to uphold their oath of fealty, which includes submitting to Lucian rule. (Those in the Kingsglaive would be different, because they are swearing themselves to service instead of fealty as well as swearing service after Lucis broke fealty.) This means that any further corrupt bullshit from Lucis is Lucis' fault and the Galahdians can rightfully demand reparation or legally revoke their oaths.

Which means if the Galahdians ever get access to the Lucian copies of the treaty, they could take the government and probably no few individuals to court and likely win.

The other is that Galahd is the ones who break fealty first when they violate their agreement to stay on the islands. Which, yeah, extenuating circumstances, but it still counts. Which means Lucis can legally disregard their agreements in the treaty, which could very well include the Galahdians' status as Lucian citizens.

(Because I hc that Iedolas was only able to spend so long trying to conquer Lucis because Niflheim holds a grudge from when Lucis conquered them, and likely kept them as second-class or noncitizens of the Lucian Empire. And by willingly submitting to Lucian rule, Galahd was able to avoid that.)

In this case, it means that any skeevy stuff certain corrupt politicians and other individuals get up to are completely legal, depending on what said skeevy stuff is.

At least until new laws are passed because I doubt Regis would stand for that if he knew about it, but any corrupt stuff before that wouldn't be able to be prosecuted.

Regardless of the political situation following the Burning, we eventually get to Regis' treaty with Niflheim. And despite both Regis and Niflheim knowing it to be little more than a sham, it still counts in regards to Galahd and their oaths of fealty.

Because one could argue that Regis broke fealty when he failed to defend Galahd, instead surrendering them to Niflheim. There is a little room for debate here, since you could also argue that Regis was not capable of defending Galahd when he surrendered the islands to Niflheim. But Galahd could argue that Regis did not try, and use that as justification to legally revoke their fealty to Lucis.

Which means that every Galahdian not under an oath of service to the Crown - such as the Kingsglaive or the Crownsguard - could not betray Lucis as they did not owe loyalty in the first place. This includes Libertus and any other Galahdians who left the Kingsglaive before the Fall. They were no longer part of the Kingsglaive, and as such their oaths of service no longer applied.

And unless Galahd renewed their oaths to Noctis, they would no longer have to bow to Lucian rule.

(Though the point sort of becomes moot when the Long Night happens.)

So, tl;dr, depending on the specifics of the treaty between Lucis and Galahd, either Lucis or Galahd broke fealty first. Depending on that, the treatment of the Galahdians in Insomnia could be legal to a certain point, or could justify the Galahdians revoking their loyalty to Lucis altogether. Regis' surrender of Galahd to Niflheim could possibly justify the same, leaving only the current Kingsglaives who owe loyalty to the Crown.

[luckyspike]

The Past Informs the Future - a Good Omens fanfic

in which anathema has something to tell crowley, but she feels it’s very important to figure out why he hated the 14th century, first

mild angst with ample fluff

anathema and crowley are best friends forever i will fight you over this.

--

“What happened during the 14th century?” Crowley, who is lounging upside-down over the couch, joint smoking lazily between his fingers, blinks once or twice. Anathema puts her head to the side. “You always talk about hating it, but you never say why.”

“It was terrible,” he answers automatically. “You don’t want to know.”

“You discorporated, right?” She knows that much, had gleaned the information from cast-away remarks here and there throughout the years. “Three times?”

“Yeah.” He rolls over, languid, and looks levelly at her. “Book-girl, believe me, you don’t want to know.”

“What if I do?” she challenges. “I asked, didn’t I?” He is glaring, but she meets him eye-to-eye, and rests her chin on her hand. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to know?”

“Why do you want to know?”

That question slows her roll for a second: why does she want to know? Certainly, she considers Crowley her friend, but he is an interesting character with his foibles and his inconsistencies and his iron-clad but completely incomprehensible values. He has his secrets, thousands of them, and she is more than happy to let him keep most of them. But something about the 14th century pulls at her, and she wants to know. Needs to know, because the future is looming, and it’s the only thing about Crowley that gives her pause when trying to incorporate him into it.

It’s become more pressing recently, too, she thinks. She has a good idea why. She is changing, and he is a demon, and she needs to know.

“Because you’re my friend and it bothers you,” she says finally, mostly honestly. “You talk about how awful it was, like you want us to ask, and then when someone does you balk at it and change the subject. Does Aziraphale know?”

“You - yes, he knows.” He looks puzzled. “Book-girl, I’m being very serious. It’s … weirdly kind of you to want to know I suppose, but you do not want to know.”

“Crowley.” She leans back into the chair, and draws her knees up to her chest. “I have something I have to tell you. I want to tell you, anyway. But I need to know … you have to tell me why you hate the 14th century.”

That gets his attention. Slowly, graceful, snake-like, he slides off of the couch, dumps the joint into the ash tray, and stalks across the living room toward her. He is examining her, like a doctor sizing up a patient, or like a snake sizing up a mouse; she can’t quite decide. “You alright, Book-girl?”

“I will be.” Her belly is roiling, and suddenly, pinned under those snake eyes, she regrets this. She still wants it, but she also wants to avoid it. She could avoid it, really, but then she wouldn’t be able to … She let that train of thought trundle off, and jumped onto the next one. “You don’t have to tell me specifics. I just need to know why. Basically. Beyond the discorporations.”

She never saw him sober up, but there isn’t a hint of anything but diamond-sharp clarity in him now. “Not enough for you? Looking for some juicy gossip?”

“For what?” She snorts. “My advice column? A blog? No. I just … Just tell me why you hated it so much.”

“It was hell.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well yeah, obviously, if you hate it that much -”

“No, literal Hell. With a capital ‘H’.” He swallows. “S’where I go when I discorporate.”

“Right.”

He stares at her for a minute, when it becomes clear that that answer had not satisfied her. His jaw works for a minute. And then, quietly, he says, “I have only ever told Aziraphale about this.”

“I promise it doesn’t leave this room. I will tell you why, but you have to tell me, you have to be honest, Crowley. Please.”

He sighs, and puts his head in his hands, suddenly cross-legged on the carpet in front of her seat. “You know what they do, when you discorporate too many times in a certain time frame? They punish you.”

She nods. She had rather thought it would be something like that. “I see.”

“The first time wasn’t anything - fill out form BD663 in triplicate, here’s your new body, don’t do it again. The second time in a century they make you wait, maybe ah ... “ He makes a vague sort of motion with a hand. “Maybe a light flaying. You know. ‘Be more careful next time’.” He swallows. “Didn’t think I was going to get to come back up here, after the third time.”

She folds her hands. “But you did.”

“Oh, yeah.” He sounds a little strangled. “For a price. By then they started to think I wasn’t doing my job right, although I was, at least at the time. So for a while they had me down in … it doesn’t matter, you really don’t need to know, but then some cult up top wanted to summon up a demon with a real wallop. And I was available.” He sighs. “Better the Serpent of Eden than a Duke of Hell - wasn’t like they really needed me down there for anything anyway, and humans are always impressed by the whole original sin thing.”

“Mhm.” She thinks about reaching out to him, but this is important, and she doesn’t want to stop him. She wrings her hands together instead.

“You know the worst part?” He looks up to her, wide-eyed and unabashedly remorseful. “I didn’t care, was the worst thing. Because I was back up here, I wasn’t in Hell, and if they wanted to bind me to do … dark bidding or whatever the fuck it was, that was better. So I did it.” He holds up a hand, fingers splayed. “Five years. Five years in servitude to some stupid cult in back-country Italy. It wasn’t hard work, mostly meant looking scary and killing someone occasionally.” He closes his eyes, pressed the heel of his hand against the bridge of his nose. “Then they wanted me to kill a kid.” She inhales sharply, and he snorts. “S’what I said.

“And, you know, five years isn’t that long, not for me. Is for humans, though. And they’d slipped on keeping some of the bindings together. I probably could have slithered out of there a year or two earlier, but it would’ve been work. Wasn’t fun as it was.” Sharply, he hauls the right side of his t-shirt up, and points to a broad web of scars slashed across his hip and ribs. “Got that for my trouble. But I did not kill that kid.” He doesn’t look at her when he says, “Was about the only one there I didn’t.”

She releases the breath she’d been holding, and leans forward. “Crowley -”

“You wanted to know,” he snaps then, and she sits up. “So let me finish. Because after I got out of there, who do I run into but Aziraphale, and after the run I’d had it was a good thing he was the angel I met up with because any other one would’ve … Anyway, doesn’t bear thinking about.” He smiles, a little bitterly and a little fondly. It looks strained. “He helped me burn all the books on summoning we could find. Scoured all over Europe. I’m sure we missed a few, but no one’s dared try anything serious since then.” He forces a little laugh. “And it was the last time I discorporated, you can bet on that.”

Anathema nods, and then pauses. “But … there are summoning books still. I’ve seen them.”

“Nothing that can bind you,” he says quickly. “Summoning is one thing, binding is another. If you see anything that mentions binding, I’d be obliged if you got rid of it.” He sighs. “Nah, summoning is different. Last time I got summoned I ended up helping three college students in Massachusetts with a group presentation. And they didn’t even put me on the Powerpoint.”

Anathema takes a moment to wonder how that would have gone over. ‘Presentation thanks go also to the Demon Crowley, who was surprisingly helpful for an infernal being of temptation and sin.’ Probably, she thinks, not well. 

“Anyway,” he says, with a sort of gruff finality, “that’s your answer. Now why the fuck did you need to know so bad?” He’s half-glaring at her, and she can’t tell if he’s angry or relieved. She wonders how many other humans he’s told about this, decides the answer is very likely a definite ‘0’, and she shrugs.

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?” He stammers for a little while, eyes flicking from her face to her belly and back-and-forth. “How is that relevant?”

“Well.” She sits back, and laces her fingers together, resting them on her crossed knee. She looks to the ceiling for a minute, thoughtful, and tries to think of a way to explain this that doesn’t make her sound absolutely unhinged. “Crowley, we’re friends, right?”

“I should hope so.” He sneers. “Hate to think you just twisted the worst 100 years of my life out of me if -”

She waves a hand. “It was rhetorical, but fact established. So that being the case I … well, I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s going to happen after I have a kid. About who I wanted to have around.”

“Oh.” He looks away. “Makes … Right. I get it. Don’t exactly have the greatest record with babies.”

“Mm, not recently, but I’m considering that extenuating circumstances. Plus,” she adds, “according to Aziraphale, you were a really good nanny when you weren’t trying to get the kid to be evil.”

“Does he know about this?”

“Not yet. I figured you could tell him. But he’s mentioned it in passing.” She takes a breath. “Anyway, I know that you don’t hurt kids. I know that. But, I dunno, when I found out about … all this … I wanted to make sure it wasn’t because something happened and it made you that way.” Her mouth twists. “It’s weird, as soon as I found out I started thinking about things I never thought about before. Wondering about stuff, planning for things, that kind of stuff. I still don’t want the book,” she adds, because she sees the way he’s looking at her, and she knows what he’s thinking. “But … Yeah. I had to make sure.”

“Hm.” He watches her for a long, long moment, and then nods. “So what’s this mean, now?”

“You wanna be its uncle?” She raises a finger. “You have to promise not to try to make it evil.”

“No problem.” He looks thoughtful. “I think godfathers is more typical -”

“No, that’s outdated and kind of cliche, at this point.” She waves a hand. “Besides, my brother lives in San Diego, and Newt doesn’t have siblings, so the poor kid’s gonna need some aunts and uncles anyway.”

“Fair.” 

She softens, and leans forward. “Crowley, I’m sorry to push, but I had to … I just really needed to know that there wasn’t anything, you know -”

“Extra evil?” He sighs. “I get it. There was, but not in a way that’s going to happen again, alright?”

“Very much so.” 

He leans forward and pokes her in the stomach. “Who else knows?”

“Newt.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Hm. Way to make a demon feel special. Argh,” he says then, because she has taken advantage of her proximity to grab him and hug him. “You’re only getting away with this because you’re with child,” he grumbles, and she gives him an extra squeeze. And then suddenly, he is trying to pull away, wide-eyed and panicky. “Wait, how pregnant. When’d you find out?”

“About seven, eight weeks. I took a test about a week ago.” He sags with relief, and she laughs. “Why? What was that about?”

“You didn’t see any broad-shouldered feathery assholes with purple eyes then?” She shakes her head. “No one said, ‘be not afraid?’” 

“No,” she laughs, “but it might have helped when I took the first test. Not that I wasn’t sort of trying - we weren’t trying, that is - but when you see the two little lines, you know, it’s kind of … startling. Sobering. All of it.”

“So no Gabriel.”

“Ah.” She chuckles. “Yeah, no Archangels. Just a little stick with some lines on it.”

“Oh. Good.” Miraculously, he suddenly is holding a bottle of wine. The joint is still in the ash tray, no longer smouldering, and she makes a little noise of protest. He waves a hand and it vanishes into the ether or, probably more accurately, into an ash tray in a cottage in the South Downs. “Secondhand smoke,” he says, by way of explanation, uncorking the bottle and taking a mouthful.

“How considerate.”

He grunts, and holds up the bottle. “Not at all. Demon, remember? This is a Caymus cabernet, very delicious, and you can’t have a single drop. You are very jealous.”

“Oh, extremely. Very evil of you.” She budges over, obligingly, and he sprawls into the space on the two-seater next to her. “Want to watch a movie?” She waggles the remote. “I rented The Tide of Blood.”

“Is that anything like Blood Tide?”

“I dunno. Never saw it.”

He takes another swig of wine, and raises an eyebrow. “It’s awful. I’ll get a copy some time.”

“Deal.” She gestures to the TV. “This one’s about a prehistoric sea monster that stalks and eats promiscuous teenagers.”

“Classic. I’m in.” He settles back, and her too. The first teen - a football-playing bully - has been eaten before either of them says anything. “Uncle, hm?”

By this time, she is slouched against his shoulder, the better to reach the shared bowl of pretzels that somehow appeared ten minutes ago. She hadn’t asked. “I figured. Unless you want something different.” She doesn’t look at him as she elaborates, “I mean, chronologically, I could certainly justify grandpa -”

“Oy.” The pretzels are snatched away, just momentarily, although he is laughing. “You have your own parents, use them for that.”

“Right. So uncle.”

“If that’s the alternative, I’ll take it,” he grumbles, and she finds herself with a bowl of pretzels in her hands. “Grandpa, Book-girl, honestly.“ The wine bottle glugs as he takes another drink, and Anathema crunches another handful of pretzels. On screen, another teen fruitlessly tries to fend off the monster with a kayak paddle. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Hm. Yeah. Yeah, I think I must be.”