#I started having thoughts about Tilda as a Drag King

[meteors-lotr]

I started thinking about it and then I just didn’t stop

And with ‘It’ I mean Tilda’s gender

And after many thoughts about it, I have come to the conclusion that Tilda is gender-fluid. She still mainly uses She/Her pronouns (She doesn’t mind He/Him, but is not too keen on They/Them), but she sometimes present masculine, and has fun with that

I do think that to elves gender is such a fleeting and irrelevant thing that none of them even care or notice, but Legolas (Genderqueer icon) probably helps her out with exploring herself as much as he can

When masc presenting he mainly goes by Til

[foxes-evermore]

Hey,,,, if you wanna you know,,,, whip me some of that angst you got,,,, that could,,,,,, that could work,,,,, that could be cool,,.

listen,, im in physical pain and also am not able to sleep at the moment so im sitting up in the kitchen getting ready to eat a whole cheesecake and preparing to cry,,,, the angst hour is upon us,,, lets do it

if this is about the thing i said yesterday, the specific angst i was talking about was a Kevaaron Song of Achilles AU, which, im not sure if that’s what you were hoping for, but im emotional,,,, just @ me again if you meant something different sjksldjlksdf

anyway here we go its long im so sorry alksjlskdfj

I’ve said this a lot before but like

Sporty-Boy-With-A-Destiny Kevin Day

Boy-Whom-Was-Treated-Like-Shit-By-The-Only-Parent-He-Knew-But-Succeeded-Out-Of-Spite-And-Became-A-Healer Aaron Minyard

t his writes itself

originally….. listen… originally i was like “of course Riko is Paris and Ichirou is H*ctor,,,, and Jean is Helen”

bUT then i got to thinking

and i’ll be damned if the mcfucking USC Trojans aren’t the for real trojans

and like this adds a whole knew level of angst because like

hear me out, i want Jeremy to be Paris just because of the Jerejean™,, but in reality,, the boy is H*ctor. Honorable and Loyal to a Fault, and best of the best right after Kevin.

which also means that Riko is actually Menelaus, and Ichirou is Agamemnon. and that makes a lot of sense because honestly the tension between them and Kevin with everyone going “no, IM the Most Important, fuck you” is 100% there.

Back to the boys though,,

like here’s Kayleigh Day, a simple sea nymph whose only desire is to protect her son and also make sure he is remembered and worshiped forever,,, and young Kevin is so on board,,,,

meanwhile

Aaron gets in some Trouble for killing a man who dared to lay a hand on his twin brother, and Tilda is overly happy about getting rid of him for the crime, so she sells him to a king who is known for adopting outcast orphan boys for his army. Aaron never hears from/sees his mother or brother again, but ,,, he meets the stupidest boy he has ever encountered in his LIFE. the kid is an absolute IDIOT, but he is half a god and destined for greatness and everyone dotes on him. 

Aaron doesnt care.

Kevin does.

Why is Aaron ignoring him?? Why doesn’t Aaron fawn over him like the other boys do? why won’t Aaron pay attention? it’s frustrating but intriguing.

The second time Aaron gets in trouble with royalty, the king wants to know why Aaron isn’t training and sparring with the other boys. He doesnt care about anything anymore, that’s why.

But he still knows pain and fear, so he does the only thing he knows how to do when a superior is angry: he finds a small/dark place and he hides.

Of Course someone finds him, and OF COURSE it’s that talented brat.

Kevin drags him to the king because its the right thing to do, but instead of leaving him for the wolves, Kev is like “I choose him. as my brother-in-arms. i want him by my side at all times” and obviously the king is like “why” because look at this fucking tiny pale stick-boy,,, he’s not even 5 feet tall yet,,, will he ever even get over 5 feet?? (spoiler, the answer is no)

and Aaron is also like “????” and Kevin just smiles for the king and then gives Aaron this look that says “try to ignore me now, you piece of shit” :))

So these 2 spend some quality time together and for a long time it’s basically just like that one part in SoA where Achilles is training and Pat goes I stepped forward. ‘’fight me.’’

There’s so much bickering and whatnot and, just like in SoA, they don’t even truly realize they’re falling for each other until the Big Bad Ocean Mom comes and tells Aaron to fuck off and then sends Kevin away to train with the horse dad, Wymack, to keep him safe.

Aaron follows him and Kevin is like “I knew you would come :)” and Aaron is like “shut the hell your mouth” and they finish their journey together.

and they fall in L

they fall in Love on that mountain.

just two bois dicking around and experiencing foolishly strong emotions where no one can stop them.

But Then Aaron’s past that he conveniently forgot to mention catches up with him when men come to tell them that it is time to die to fight Troy. Kevin is an amazing warrior and it’s expected that he go to fight in the war, but Aaron can hear his own blood pounding, because he Remembers something that he hopes everyone else might’ve forgotten.

He’d made a promise to Jean of Sparta. not a promise. A blood oath, to go to war for the most beautiful boy in the world if something like this ever happened. and now it was happening.

Kayleigh warns him that if Kevin goes to fight the trojans, he’ll die, but she cant elaborate anymore, aside from telling them that Jeremy will die first.

Who can kill Jeremy, though? N o   o n e. Kevin is the only swordsman good enough to best him, and why would he kill the devout trojan prince? he’s an honorable man. an admirable man,,, in fact, Kevin has heard so much about him, and he adores the prince,,

and What has Jeremy ever done to him?

Kayleigh tries one more time to save her son, spirits him away to an island at night,, weds him to a beautiful princess named Thea, they promise her a child and in return she disguises him as one of her lady dancers whom she calls her “ravens”

Aaron finds him though, recognizes him, because he would know those green eyes a n y w h e r e.

Thea invites Aaron to stay, too, says that the three of them could work something out. The two agree cautiously and they start to get comfortable, incorporating Thea into this thing that used to be just them 

But eventually men come and find them,,, find Aaron,, and they’re dragged off to Troy to fight with Riko and Ichirou,, one man determined to bring back his caged lover and one determined to seize the city.

It’s exciting at first, in that “we could die any second” sort of way. everything happening all at once, arrows and spears flying, swords clanging, and fire on the beach.

but Aaron watches from day one as Kevin loses himself. the way comes back to camp the very first day of battle covered in blood and sweat and grinning like he just won the world.

Something about it twists Aaron’s stomach, but he pushes it down because there’s only room right now to be glad that his love is alive and that they’ve successfully arrived and that maybe there is hope and the war will end with both of them on the other side of it, going home.

The night after that first battle, Aaron sees a trojan girl being handed off as a spoil of war, probably to Ichirou or Riko, and demands that Kevin take her as his prize. Kevin is high off the fighting still and doesn’t really question this.

The girl’s name is Katelyn and she’s eternally grateful to Aaron, but even warier than he is of Kevin’s lust for battle and glory.

Anyway.

time passes. years. Aaron and Katelyn save as many of the captured girls as they can, and they make a family and they get close, and one day Katelyn admits that she loves Aaron.

he’s shook.

But he’s not as shook over her feelings for him as he is over her justifications for why they should be together and forget Kevin.

“He’s a monster,” she tells him. “He’s not a person anymore. He doesn’t love you, he can’t, because he doesn’t know how to love.”

and that can’t be true, but it is, isn’t it?

he only knows how to fight and kill. he only feels the need for glory, and nothing else, doesn’t he?

When did it become like this? When did Aaron lose Kevin? a few months back? years? the day they arrived at Troy? earlier?

had he ever even really had Kevin? he’d never had him to himself, at least, had he? It was always Aaron and Glory. Kevin was born to be remembered, and they both knew it. and Kevin wanted it more than anything, didn’t he?

did he want glory more than he wanted Aaron?

but it’s like Kevin is reading his mind,, every time Aaron has these thoughts, Kevin is there, on top of him, kissing him, holding him, touching him with these burning hands that leave Aaron wanting more, more, more.

he’s driving Aaron crazy and Aaron is fine with it because they have each other and they’ll be back home together one day and that’s all that matters.

and then Riko pisses Kevin off,

and the gods see this story and how it ends, and some laugh at the tragedy of it, and some hurt for the poor souls involved.

Kevin won’t let his men fight anymore, and the Trojans are taking ground back and hope is lost, but Riko and Ichirou won’t swallow their pride, and neither will Kevin.

Aaron begs. “These are our friends,” he says, “if the trojans just see you, they’ll retreat”

“You’re letting them die,” he tells Kevin from down on his knees, “you could save them. please.”

his lover’s tears are enough to snap Kevin out of his rage, but not enough to make him fight. 

“You dont have to,” Aaron bargains, “let me ride out in your armor.”

[setaripendragon]

From West to East - Part 8

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 This was really fun to write, with the various layers to all the communication and all the not-truths being thrown about. Isn’t it ironic that Thranduil is actually being more honest with his kids than Bard is, for once? Heehee~

Bard was familiar with the Greenwood, with it’s paths and trees and tricks and traps. He was familiar with the elves that called it home, too, although he wasn’t quite bound to them the way Thranduil was, as their king. The customs of the Midsummer Feast were as good as his own, now, after observing the festival for years upon countless years at Thranduil’s side

Still, he felt like he was seeing it all for the first time again, through his children’s eyes. The three of them stopped on the edge of the clearing to gape at the massive bonfire being built and tended by spry, laughing elves, the tables seemingly grown out of the trees themselves, piled high with the fruits of high summer and many jugs and barrels of wine in just as many varieties, dishes of game and fish seasoned with all the herbs the Greenwood had to offer. There were even, Bard knew, some plates of roasted insects and fungi that his children would probably balk at. Bard certainly did, still.

The elves scattered about weren’t quite so rude as to stop and openly stare, but a hush did fall over the clearing as Thranduil guided Tilda away from the tree line. Bain followed after them, head held high with obvious bravado, but Sigrid stalled, her eyes huge and telegraphing alarm. “Da…” She murmured. Not quiet enough to pass beneath elven hearing, but thankfully, no one commented.

“It’s fine, Sig.” Bard assured her, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing comfortingly.

Sigrid cast him a sharp look. “How are you so calm?” She demanded softly.

Bard shrugged, looking over the clearing at Thranduil, and felt his heart swell when he saw that he was settling Tilda on his throne, an elegant twist of branches into a chair-like shape, bowing under the weight of the many dark green leaves, vibrantly coloured flowers, and richly hued fruit. The look on Thranduil’s face was achingly fond, at least to one who knew him well, and Tilda was beaming, utterly delighted by the special treatment. “Well, I figure if calling the Elvenking a heartless wraith to his face doesn’t get me cursed to the bottom of the lake, pretty much nothing is.”

Bard was honestly expecting a reprimand for that – even if it hadn’t been on their first meeting as Sigrid thought, that had still been a terrible and memorable argument – but none came. He looked back at Sigrid, to find her frowning faintly at him, wary but far less uncertain than she had been a minute ago. “You like him, don’t you, Da?” She asked, flicking a glance at Thranduil, before fixing her gaze back on Bard again, intent. “You say you called him stuff like that, but you look at him like he’s the best thing since Ma.”

Bard flushed at being caught so easily, and cleared his throat. “I- Well-”

Sigrid rolled her eyes at him. “Just be careful, Da?” She asked.

Bard pressed a hand over his face. “I could swear this conversation is the wrong way round.” He informed her, pained.

A peek through his fingers showed that that had earned him a smile. “We worry about you just as much as you worry about us.” She told him. “But I don’t mean… I mean, he’s an elf, Da. He’s the Elvenking. Please, please, be careful.” She begged, and that was real fear in her eyes.

Bard thought of the tales that made their way through Laketown, of enchantments and entrapments, of the wild and fay elves of Mirkwood, dangerous and lovely and mercurial. Tales of unwary travellers being lured to their deaths, or worse, by bright-eyed and beautiful figures among the trees. “I will.” Bard assured his daughter, because he would only worry her more if he started trying to reassure her. “I do know they’re not human. They’re people, and don’t you forget that, but they aren’t human.”

Sigrid nodded solemnly. “That’s why I’m worried.” She sighed, but she didn’t look nearly so torn about it now. “People can be very dangerous, and I don’t know the rules here.”

“You could try asking.” Bard suggested teasingly, tipping his chin towards a small knot of elves lounging about at the roots of a massive and ancient tree. He could tell by the cut of their robes that two of them were healers, which he knew would interest Sigrid. “Go on, enjoy yourself.”

Sigrid sucked in a deep breath, drew herself up with all the grace and courage of a Queen of Men, and stepped into the clearing. Bard watched her go with a fond smile, leaning a shoulder against a tree and scanning the clearing for the rest of his family. Thranduil was still with Tilda, listening as she chattered on at length and answering her dozens of questions, while Bain had inserted himself into conversation with a pair of guards, one of whom had a very distinctive fall of vibrantly red hair.

Which left only one member of the family unaccounted for.

“Ada told me about the Blessing of the Wild.”

Bard jumped out of his skin. “By the stars, Legolas, must you do that?!” He huffed, exasperated. He looked over at the elf perched on a branch near his head, crouching on tiptoe, elbows braced on knees, hands hanging deceptively loose, bow slung over his shoulder despite the silver-and-green festival clothes he was wearing. Legolas looked back, a spark of mischief in blue eyes, but a puzzled quirk to the corner of his mouth. Bard sighed, and answered the probing statement Legolas had chosen to open with. “He mentioned he might, if it felt right. I trust his judgement.”

“You’re barely glowing.” Legolas added, head tipping like an inquisitive bird.

Bard smiled at the strange mix of old grief and new relief the familiar gesture provoked in him. Legolas was not his son, had been far too old to need another parent by the time Bard had entered his life, but… but despite the fact that Legolas had actual centuries on him, Bard had never been able to stop himself feeling just a bit responsible for him. A mentor, perhaps, rather than a father, in the ways of mortals and those fickle, annoying things called emotions. “My kids don’t know. Time-travel’s a bit hard to explain, never mind adding in a blessing from the valar themselves, near immortality, dominion over the wild and green places of the world, and a husband and two new kids.” He pointed out. “I keep it tamped down where they can see, for the most part.”

Legolas nodded thoughtfully. “It’s strange, knowing that the man I knew as my father is thousands of years gone in only a night.” He mused, and it was such a typically elvish comment that Bard almost wanted to roll his eyes. Not quite saying he wished his father hadn’t told him, not quite saying he was glad he had, but catching somewhere in the middle and encompassing both at once.

“Not gone.” Bard corrected gently, because he could hear the bewildered grief in that, even if Legolas himself couldn’t tell what he was feeling. “Changed, healed, wounded anew, but not gone. He’s right there.” Bard nodded across the clearing.

“Yes, he is.” Legolas agreed in a murmur. “Which is very strange.”

Bard laughed. He had to, because he understood at a soul deep level what Legolas meant. Thranduil had been barely present when Bard had first met him, lost to his grief and his rage, and so far removed from the world that sometimes it was hard to believe his fae was still in there. “You’ll get used to it.” He assured Legolas around a laugh.

Legolas glanced sideways at him and smirked, wry acknowledgement writ large across his face. And then he brightened, as music swelled through the clearing from a small trio on the other side of the fire. “Come! Let us see how well a human Lord of the Wild can dance the Midsummer dances!” He called, leaping down from the tree.

“Oh, valar have mercy, no.” Bard begged.

“Yes.” Legolas insisted, and grabbed Bard’s hand to drag him into the circle that was forming around the fire. Bard caught Thranduil’s eye across the clearing as he was towed into the fray, knowing he was going to embarrass himself horribly, and pleading for escape. No human could move like an elf, Blessing of the Wild or no, and the Midsummer dances were hard. Thranduil’s eyes glittered with firelight and laughter, and he very obviously slouched back in his throne, settling Tilda more securely in his lap, and made an ostentatious carry on gesture with one hand.

Well, if it would make Thranduil happy, Bard supposed he was just going to have to embarrass himself. He had a sneaking suspicion, after all, that this was part of Thranduil’s revenge for Bard insisting he play nice with Oakenshield later today.