#I've had this written for literal years

[skyward-floored]

For IAU scenes... what about Hyrule and Legend finding Sky? Or just anything with Sky

How about... Hyrule healing Sky? :)

Hyrule kneeled down next to Sky, and with Legend’s help, carefully pulled him out from behind the vines. Sky moaned at the jostling, but his eyelids barely flickered, his head lolling. Hyrule swallowed at the sight, but then he rubbed his hands together, and lit up his fingers with a warm, creamy blue.

He placed them on Sky’s chest where there seemed to be the most blood, and closed his eyes, focusing.

Legend kept a hand on his shoulder while he worked, Hyrule’s face creased in concentration. The glow twirled from his fingers and gently danced over Sky’s middle, spreading softly over his chest, and slipping around the rest of him. It felt like hours, but couldn’t have been too long before Hyrule’s glow faded, and he leaned back, shakily wiping some sweat off his brow.

Sky continued to lay still, but his breathing sounded more even, and he looked overall more relaxed.

“Sky?” Legend whispered in a slightly trembly voice.

Their uncle took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again, his vision looking much more clear. His gaze landed on the two of them, and a small smile turned his mouth up.

“Hey you two,” Sky said gently, and Legend and Hyrule dove forward to hug him, the hero’s good wing drawing them close.

[rebrandedbard]

How does the great Sandpiper successfully smuggle 130 children out of the Nilfgaard-occupied territory of Hamm? With the power of a forgotten story, a traditional song, and a masterful lie.

A piece for my upcoming fic, The Piper of Hamm, based on The Pied Piper of Hamelin, next in my fairy tale series.

[rubyrubyrubytuesday]

Supernatural S06E01 // A Pearl by Mitski

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

tagged by @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie 💖

a little more from alive shannon! I think I finished chapter 3 and I hate most of the last 500 words but that's for future/editing me to fix, so good luck to her, I'm moving on 🤣

prev snippet

___

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he hears his phone ring. It sounds too loud in the quiet of the waiting room, everyone’s eyes turn to him. He quickly fishes his phone out of his pocket and sees Shannon’s name on the screen. He picks up, gets up and goes a little further away for some semblance of privacy.

“Hi, listen, now’s not really-” he starts, whispering, but is interrupted.

“Eddie, oh my god, are you okay?”

“I-” he sighs, leaning against the wall. He’s not. He won’t be until he gets his best friend back. That’s not what she’s asking, though. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“How’s Buck? Is he gonna be- I’m so sorry.” she says, pity in her voice. “I just saw the news, god, that was…” she trails off, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Yeah, Eddie gets that. He doesn’t know what that was, either.

“He’s in surgery now.” Eddie says, throat tight. “He should be okay. Though I don’t know about his leg.” 

“If you need anything-” she starts, and he thinks about Chris, currently staying with Carla – Eddie’s supposed to be home already. “You know I’m here.”

“I know. Uh, actually, Shan, could you maybe- could you stay with Chris tonight? I don’t want to have to ask Carla to stay too long, and I wanna stick around here. Wait for news.” he says tiredly. He knows there’s no point in being here. Buck’s in surgery, and after they’ll probably won’t be able to see him anyway, he’ll still be under anesthesia, and maybe they’ll let Maddie in. He could ask her to call him with news. Still, he wants to be here. He can’t leave, he just- he can’t. He knows everyone will leave soon, they’re all tired after the day they’ve had, and there’s no use to sit around at the hospital and wait. But he can’t leave.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @theotherbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @hoodie-buck

[jakeperalta]

it is actually so unfair how being quiet is treated as a character flaw that needs fixing in every area of life

[fadedapparition]

i am thinking… about how a high approval lavellan really easily ends up relating to solas the way briala related to felassan. and how i actually like this much more than the romance route because it’s just as interesting and possibly even sadder.

lavellan doesn’t HAVE to see him this way, but they're given room to decide that solas is their mentor in an environment where they’ve otherwise been completely cut off from their culture-group. you have the opportunity to ask him for advice on just about anything, and the transmission of knowledge/history forms the bedrock of any positive relationship between himself and the player character. the dalish have limited written records, so most lore is passed down orally from keepers and hahrens to younger members of a clan. when solas starts rambling about the fade, it’s not just some guy telling stories, but an older elf sharing knowledge with his protege that would otherwise be lost with his death. he is fulfilling the responsibilities of a hahren in the same way felassan fulfilled them for briala, and he’s doing so while secretly the most literal hahren you could find. solas can occupy the role of an elder, but he is also among the oldest elves in the setting: not only a hahren, but the most hahren.

and in being granted the honor of a position as their elder, solas must confront the fact that lavellan is his legacy. they are the product of the world he’s created, the mortal race that owes its existence entirely to the catastrophic changes he made that he’s since come to regret. they purposefully incorporate him into their cultural lineage, and by doing that, they compel him to acknowledge the ties that bind him to present-day elves. he’s meeting his descendants in the post-apocalypse, and he’s grappling with the reality that for as bad as the world might be, it remains populated by people who recognize themselves in him.

for felassan, briala was the catalyst for an identical realization, and he was willing to die at solas’ hands to affirm her personhood (and, by extension, everyone else's). solas finds himself in precisely the same situation, except he’s been murdering his dearest friends to deny this possibility since before the story began. when he meets felassan’s own version of lavellan, when he actually encounters briala herself, he describes her in glowing terms because he realizes how closely they resemble each other. maybe this is why felassan bonded with her so strongly. the person she reminded him of could easily be solas.

i don't agree with the (prevailing?) interpretation that solas tries to separate himself from present-day elvendom because he doesn’t see other elves as people. i think he’s doing it because he wants to escape the truth that destroying the world means destroying his heirs, people who are as much like him as they could be while still surviving the terrible world he bequeathed to them. if you help elves, choose dialogues that reference elven lore, or even just point out to people that you are an elf, solas throws approval at you, but if you tell him directly that you are both elves and therefore similar, he gets scared. he knows lavellan is his people, but doesn't want to internalize that because that would turn him into a second felassan - and make his murder of the actual felassan completely meaningless.

the solas romance is about this immortal promethean god-figure recognizing an equal in the present and falling in love, but i personally like this version of the story more because it places greater emphasis on the seniority and power he holds. he's one of very few lines of defense between lavellan and a chantry that has a long, storied history of elf-killing. he has access to complete, firsthand accounts of their history, and can permit or deny them that knowledge at will. they're granting him their trust and their admiration, and it's on him to decide if he's worthy of it. they are his symbolic child, and he is the only person with the capacity to prevent them from becoming a sort of isaac to his abraham.

but instead, in true deadbeat fashion, he skips town, changes his number, and stops responding to your emails. and that’s why the new game is called dragon age dad

[licorishh]

Replayed Modern Warfare 3 2011 on Veteran tonight and goooooooood night. Blood Brothers never gets any easier to watch no matter how many times you've done it and the ending really never misses huh

I apologize for the amount of yapping in the tags I reread it all on mobile and started giggling because it went on for so long but eh. Blessed are those who won't shut the freak up and all that

[dancedance-resolution]

i started a supercorp portrait of a lady on fire au like three years ago. i'm never going to finish it, but the writing style is pretty cool, so i want to share it. so um enjoy the prologue and a bit of chapter one?

---

Prologue. Bonnelles, France. 1786.

“First, my contours,” Kara said, her voice soft and level. She looked out upon the dozen or so young women, their eyes darting back and forth from their papers to Kara herself. “The outline,” she continued. The increasingly swift sound of scratching charcoal prompted Kara to further instruct, “Not too fast. Take time to look at me.” She paused. “See how my arms are placed.”

At that moment, Kara saw the painting.

She swallowed and took in a breath; she schooled her expression before letting out the air with a pathetically soft “My hands.” Her students’ gaze followed her verbal direction, now observing as Kara’s fingers curled with remembrance. Their own hands now began to sketch the slope of hers—the slope that had once coaxed breathy moans from a lover, the slope that had once created that very painting in all of its hollow longing.

Kara felt her heart rate accelerating, and her attempts at calming deep breaths only made her shoulders shake unsteadily. “Who brought that painting out?” Her eyes darted around, landing on each possible offender, as she tensed her core and adopted a stern countenance.

Every student dutifully turned to look at the work.

It was an especially young girl who finally lifted her hand. “I brought it. From the stock room. Should I have not?”

Kara’s “no” felt like a brick, its weight threatening to pry tears from her reddening eyes. So Kara took another swallow, a handful of blinks, a few more steadying breaths.

“Did you paint it?” the girl asked innocently. Nia, her name was? She stared at Kara, oblivious to the flood of sound overwhelming Kara’s mind and echoing in the cavern of her heart.

“Yes,” Kara uttered softly, the word barely audible as they fell from her lips. “A long time ago.”

Nia’s head snapped back to examine the painting once more. It stood on an old but sturdy easel, tattooed and scarred but still standing. The artwork itself was brooding, with a white sun bleeding into a dark vignette. Heavy clumps of clouds occupied the sky and caged some of the sun’s rays, so the fire burning behind the woman was bright enough in comparison to create a dragging shadow of her figure. The flames crawled up the back of her windswept dress, bringing sharp tension to an otherwise lulling, melancholy landscape.

“What’s the title?”

The sound of the sea began to swell in Kara’s head. Her lips trembled. Her body unwittingly swayed slightly. “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.”

---

Chapter I. The island of Brittany, France, and the surrounding sea. 1779.

Kara squinted into the distance, her face scrunching up a bit as she desperately tried to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun on the water. For all its gorgeous teals and sparkling peaks, it certainly did make her wish for one of those brimmed hats the rowers were all wearing. With every one of their paced paddles, the cork-like little canoe bobbed haphazardly. Kara rather felt as if she were in the wine glass of a thoroughly drunken Marie Antoinette.

At least she wasn’t prone to seasickness.

She still felt quite unsteady, though, being thrown about and forced to pathetically grab onto the boat’s low walls. She leaned forward, trying to regain her balance and ground herself despite the absence of ground.

The wooden pallet holding her canvas was, apparently, as unstable as she was, and the next thing Kara knew, it had been lurched off of the boat like vomit from a drunkard. Kara watched helplessly as it thrashed among the choppy waves, the sea carrying it a few feet from the boat.

The chief rower met her desperate look with exhausted resignation; he ceased his paddling as Kara shed her overcoat and placed a precarious foot on the edge of the canoe.

With a strained creak from the boat’s wood, she jumped into the water, dress billowing behind her. Her first gasp for air upon emerging from the water was audible; she could feel the effort in her throat. Her arms moved in laborious little arcs as she slowly made her way towards the floating pallet and finally made a desperate reach for it. Kara’s fingers grasped onto a wooden board, and she pulled herself up onto it with a grunt.

---

The incessant wind upon the sea was certainly not helping Kara. Dripping wet, she wrapped herself up in her overcoat in a pitiful plea for warmth. She held the edges of the garment up to her lips, the sensation of the dry fabric bringing her some comfort as she closed her eyes and left herself to the mercy of the mighty sea.

But the interminable rocking of the feeble boat wouldn’t allow her any rest.

Kara wasn’t very religious, not anymore. Yet, the sight of the cliffs and coast of Brittany moved her to relieved prayer.

---

The sun had already begun to set as Kara trekked up the sandy coast. Her legs ached with every stumbling, unsure step—maybe she was a bit seasick after all—and her hands were tired of having to grip her full skirt to keep it out of her way.

She paused on the rocks, taking a moment to manually wring some of the water out of her skirt. She filled her lungs with an arduous breath before slinging the rope holding the pallet over her shoulder. Next came the fabric sling, which housed her trunk of personal items—she positioned it on her back with careful poise.

The journey up the cliffs and towards the trees was exhausting. Kara’s skirt required repositioning every few seconds, the rope was digging into her shoulder, and the pallet and trunk slammed into her back with each wobbling step. By the time she reached the straight path up to the residence, her breaths were heavy and pained, and the sun was nearly fully hidden beneath the horizon.

A soft light emanated from the windows above the mansion’s door, helping Kara feel a bit more secure as she knocked. A short blonde woman answered her summon and introduced herself with a flat “I’m Eve.” She opened the door a bit wider and gestured with her body for Kara to come in.

Eve held a small candle as she guided Kara up the stairs, the sounds of their shoes echoing through the grand yet starkly undecorated hallway. The walls of the stairwell were cement bricks, and the wrought iron bannister was rather plain and geometric.

They came to a stop in front of a similarly void room, bare save a few heavy curtains and a daybed. The raised panels along these walls matched the white-painted wood of the window frames, and they gave the chamber some elegant character.

While Eve entered the comparatively less intimidating room, Kara stayed back a moment, taking in the shafts of muted blue light from the windows and the contrasting warm glow of leaping flames from the central fireplace.

Eve crouched down to poke at the fire as Kara set down her belongings. “It was a reception room,” Eve explained. “Though I’ve never seen it used.”

The fire crackled pleasantly. “Have you been here long?” Kara inquired.

“Three years,” Eve answered, directing her attention back to the fire.

Kara peeled off her overcoat and draped it along the wainscoting. “Do you like it here?”

“Yes,” Eve said simply as she stood up. She turned to Kara, meeting her eyes now as her hands smoothed over her skirt. “I’ll let you get dry.” And with a nod, she was on her way.

Kara watched her every step.

Once the door closed, she hastily began removing her overskirt. It fell to the dark herringbone floor with an unglamorous thud.

---

There was no method or grace to the way Kara wrapped her hand around the rusting crowbar, but with a few jerks, she’d managed to successfully pry the top off of the pallet.

After setting down the wood cover, Kara extended her hand, letting it fall clumsily onto the slick canvas in front of her. It was still wet, and her hand’s small circular movement caused moisture to pool at her fingertips, as if her touch had beckoned the water. So her hand withdrew, and Kara slid the canvas out from its container. Her eyes danced over the surface as she considered how to dry it, holding it in front of herself like the Communion host of an evening Mass.

---

Kara decided to accompany her drying canvas, which was now positioned next to the fireplace. Stripped naked, she sat in front of the fire and pulled her legs towards herself—she was vulnerable, sitting there bare and in a new environment, and the action made her feel a bit more small, compact, and safe.

Kara set down her candle so she could light her tobacco pipe with the flames. Her large, smoky exhales grounded her, in a way, with the familiar sight and smell acting as a sort of sedative. And she stared forward, expression blank but unmistakably worn.

---

Kara walked barefoot along the cement floor, making her way through the hall and to the pantry room wrapped in nothing but her robe-like smock.

[theflyingfeeling]

fic talk in the tags 💝

[remythologise]

kira always dragging me back to a decade old fandom WHAT EVEN IS CHERIK a core memory that's what. *dusts off ao3 bookmarks* here we go again i guess

showing up at cherik 2011 ao3 era like

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Opinions on Dream? :^

SO many feelings about him omgg rant under cut please forgive me

okay so i don't really talk or draw him much cause honestly,,,most of the times i just think he's a bit....boring? or more accurately plain? not in a mean way either but just in a 'fades into the background' type of way like don't get me wrong!! he's a really nice friend to his peers, his feelings about his powers and aura making his relationships harder to navigate and trust along with his whole conflict with nightmare and morality about what's good and bad IS very cool!! and i love it whenever they write him to be complex and not on this black and white mentality or when he's just straight up following along his friends with no free will or with a dubious purpose without ever addressing his issues or feelings! it's just unsatisfying to me :')

or when they're making him the 'naive' and oblivious, (sometimes childish?) character being marked as the obstacle and villain along with the other star sanses from the fic's pov, always talking about doing good things while fighting his brother and not hearing him out about the balance, (and for weak reasons most of the time. like it's been so long and you STILL haven't sat down with him when he's, generally, basically begged you to just have a talk? guys please :'( ) or when they go for the victim sad dream always missing the old nightmare, where corrupted nightmare is the incarnation of evil, with no sympathy or emotion except anger and sadistic glee, killing and hurting everyone and dream's just trying to protect the multiverse and dream's always been in the right. such extremes!!!

LIKE!! i hope i'm not the only one that thinks a 500+ year old should have had enough time to idk. learn things? about people and manipulation and deceit? after knowing what the villagers did to night? about the bad things in the world and how there's a lot of grey areas in life and that he maybe reflected on his past enough to process and ask himself if there should to be a convo to settle his differences with nightmare (and you can make nightmare the stubborn one too! or have them BOTH be petty and imperfect and have some things wrong and some right at the same time like why do i always see the good guy vs bad guy cliché with these two when they're the perfect example of why positivity doesn't have meaning without the negativity!! as long as there's a satisfying evolution or growth that doesn't leave me empty i'm good yknow?)

plus i believe dream really isn't as dumb as people view him. i do get some of you saying he probably can't read or write since that's actually a pretty interesting idea to explore! but in general please let him have emotions other than pure sunshiny happiness or endless sadness like he's gotta have more depth than that! let him make mistakes, have flaws that don't just make him the bad guy that's always in the wrong by default, and be angry or suspicious or jealous or bitter or battling his mental health problems/depression or malicious or smart or witty or mischievous and silly or sarcastic or ANYTHING dude i just want him to be put into different scenarios where he can be serious or lighthearted like it doesn't even have to be long or perfect but make him feel real.

it could definitely be that i don't read or see much art about dream or really look for it hard enough but also i just. i feel bad for even saying this fr and i wanna be honest about why i don't enjoy most stories about him cause he always gets the worst treatment along with ink!!! especially ink omg the poor guy has it the worst i think like wow do they mess him up :'(

always one dimensional in non shippy fics, or too plain or easily replaceable by other, more entertaining people in the significant other's life in most of his ships like man. i have read fics out there that made me genuinely FEEL and root for him and love his character so much it restored all hope for me!!! but i can only name one on top of my head and the others? it's been so long i don't even remember their names i just legit feel terrible cause i love him still and i can't find many headcanons that fit my interpretation of him yknow?

not to say people who write him very happy, mislead or sad are ruining him like that's silly- if i see something i don't like i just. move on bro i wouldn't force people to feel or think the same way i do about him cause anyone can have whatever headcanons they want!!! just talking about what i personally look for in him and why i can't exactly find it since most of the stuff out there just isn't my cup of tea :')

hopefully i didn't set anyone off with this rambling opinionated essay i just pulled hhh xD i know i know he's a popular character and i know a lot of people like dream so *sobs* please please recommend me artists and fics about him that you think is good it's been so looong since i've read or seen anything new that makes me attached to this little guy aughg<33333

[undercityrezident]

Fading

A Retelling of Memory 17 from Tears of the Kingdom

Implied Zelink

Critical plot spoiler warning for The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

The gentle breeze brushed my white dress against my legs and rustled the large—though surprisingly light—earrings against my cheek. Both were soft and clean: the opposite of what lay before me. The decayed Master Sword sat on the altar before me, most of its once pristine form broken and lost through the events of that horrific day yet to dawn for millennia.

Regret burned through me two-fold. Knowing what I knew now, I wondered how things would’ve turned out if I hadn’t descended those ancient steps beneath Hyrule Castle with Link in tow. What if I’d learned more before taking the risk. What if I’d learned more before forcing that risk on Link too. I, no—Zelda, daughter of Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule and, more importantly, a scholar—should’ve known better. I blamed myself.

But Link would never see it that way. He was always steadfastly by my side. Even with his knightly oath forgotten through the Shrine of Resurrection, he managed to fulfill his duty to me and the kingdom. But it was more than duty. He believed in me. He would follow me anywhere and do his utmost to ensure my dream of reviving Hyrule came to fruition.

It was that dedication—no, devotion—that had him follow me into that imprisoning chamber. It was months at this point, but I remembered every detail of that fateful day that shaped my destiny in this far-flung age long since gone by. Aeons separated us now, but the danger felt so close at hand, regardless. My eyes turned skyward, and I let them close as the past claimed my thoughts.

“Was that the Sword that Seals the Darkness?” That rasped, cruel, and somehow amused voice rang in my ears as the scene played out before me: the Master Sword reduced to shards at the hands of Ganondorf’s blood-red, fiendish magic. I heard his dried flesh cracking as his desiccated form stood to its full height. “A blade that shatters so easily against my power cannot save you from me.”

Now, it all made sense how he knew us. His name was a mystery to me then, but I could sense Ganondorf’s evil intent when he first came to this youthful Hyrule’s court. I knew there was more to my presence here than just bearing witness to these events. And yet, for a time, that’s all I did. I knew well enough to caution Rauru, but he seemed so certain of the path forward that I didn’t question his decision to accept the Gerudo king’s pledge of fealty.

The second wave of regret wrought its way through me. Sonia, Rauru, and countless more were dead because I didn’t heed my suspicions and force the issue. I had the power to stop a catastrophe, but I’d failed to use it… again.

This Hyrule—ancient to me, but now intimately familiar—was saved, but only just. It would ever balance on the edge of peril unless I could do something about that day coming. This time, I would do something.

My eyes opened and drifted down the remains of the Master Sword. Words and memories flashed before me, clear as day.

I was back in the Korok Forest before the Deku Tree with Link. Its low, rumbling, but assuring words tumbled in my ears as though I were there now. “The sword will continue to gain strength if bathed in sacred power. The stronger that power, the more powerful the sword becomes.”

From there, my mind flung to another memory, a pinch of pain knitting in my brows and chest as I saw Sonia speaking to me again, her hands softly clasped around mine. “After all, you possess more than the power over time. You have a sacred power that can dispel evil.” I nearly wept. She had been so kind. It felt almost motherly. I’d forgotten what that was like.

But purpose drew me away from those feelings. A determination to see my goal through seized me as my mind turned to another memory that had brought me here today. Mineru’s study stood clear before me, and the Zonai herself sat in her chair, her knowledgeable voice speaking unwaveringly. “To swallow a secret stone is to become an immortal dragon… one blessed with eternal life.”

Another pinprick of pain struck me as I recalled something more I had to do before I committed myself to the one solution we had. To the sword’s right sat the Purah Pad and the soft glow of a teal, floating flame. I gently took the device in hand, turned from the altar, and strode to the stone path connecting this cliffside balcony to the Temple of Time. Waiting ever dutifully and ever patiently for me was one of Mineru’s constructs. The flame accompanied me there, taking its place above the device, and I felt my lips tremble. Guilt wracked me. I had no right to ask anything of her, but I had to.

“Mineru, I’m counting on you.”

The flame bobbed in the air for half a moment before it shrank and entered the Purah Pad, briefly illuminating it with the same teal glow before I placed the device gingerly into the hands of the construct. Large, blocky fingers cradled the Purah Pad with the utmost care as it turned and hovered silently toward the Temple of Time.

The rest was up to me.

The fear that gripped me had me retreating into my thoughts. Before I knew it, I stood at the altar once more, halfway surprised I was there as I stared long and hard at the sword upon it.

My mind turned to Link, fighting for us in our future. Wisdom had brought me here. But courage… courage was what I needed. Courage is what he had in abundance. I envied him for it. Though he was often silent, I fondly remembered how he told me I had courage aplenty for holding the Calamity at bay for a century. But now, I felt like I needed even more for what needed to be done. Link readily shared his courage with me before, during, and after the Calamity. But I was alone now. And I knew I would be for a very long time. My courage would have to be enough.

I took a deep breath and began to speak. “Link. I will restore the Master Sword for you.” I paused. I wanted to believe saying it out loud would steady my resolve. Yet, I found myself trembling more. “I will pour my sacred power into it. It will be the weapon that defeats the Demon King.”

I exhaled, forcing my hand to the necklace where my golden secret stone hung gently from my neck. My fingers wrapped around it, and I felt the gentle warmth it offered. It was so small, but I knew the power locked within. I knew its amazing—and horrifying—potential. I drew in a breath and tugged, pulling the stone from the beads that tethered it.

It was only then that I deigned to look on the stone directly. In my cupped hands, its steady glow was calming, but that was its deception. Power threatened to burst from it every moment someone held it. I had to learn to tap into it a drop at a time to bolster my power. Sonia and Rauru, gently and patiently with me, had both nurtured the skill I needed to make use of it. But there would be no restraint here. It was all or nothing with the taboo I intended to commit.

The thought of that power flung me back into my memories of Mineru’s study. The Zonai spoke again, crystal clear. “To become an immortal dragon is to lose oneself.”

Fear gnawed at me, but not as much as my memories did. I saw flashes of Mineru wounded and panting in our desperate battle. I saw Sonia’s face wracked with pain as Ganondorf slew her. I saw Rauru stilled as he sealed the Demon King’s heart, entangled with him until we came to relieve Hyrule’s first king of his terrible duty. I saw Link diving toward me, his corrupted arm reaching for mine, as the imprisoning chamber crumbled around us.

“You must…” I spoke softly to myself. It’s the only way. You must. You must. You must.

The words rung in my head over and over. Each time, I thought of them. Each time, I thought of their sacrifices. I thought of the sacrifices yet to come. And that is where I found my courage.

I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and brought my cupped hands to my mouth. When my hands came away, they were empty.

I didn’t know what to expect when I let the stone slip past my lips. I didn’t know what I’d taste or how it’d feel slipping past my teeth. Would it burn my tongue? Would it lodge in my throat? Would I die the moment I swallowed?

It did none of those things. It barely registered on my tongue. It had no taste. I barely felt it enter my body. It was as though it wanted to make its passage as easy as possible. There was a moment where I was relieved.

But only a moment.

I was only barely aware of how the sky darkened. I only lightly felt how the wind picked up and blew my dress fiercely against my legs and slapped my earrings against my cheeks. I opened my eyes, but I found them hard to keep open. My vision grew hazy as I found my eyelids fluttering, water massing beneath them. I felt a warmth beginning to blossom within me. It began as that same gentle heat, but it quickly grew discomforting. It felt strange, like it was unfurling within me, layer by layer.

What have I done?

The moment those words echoed through my mind, a blinding light took me. I was suffused by it, and my arms burst outward to my sides as though strung out by an invisible force from within. I felt myself lifted off the ground for a moment from the impact of it as my head craned upward towards the sky. My eyes opened wide, and my vision cleared, though I regretted it for how bright the light was. I exhaled in a massive gasp and struggled to inhale again. I could bring nothing into me, not even air, for the volume of light my body shone out. No pain, not even what I’d felt over a century restraining the Calamity, could compare to the sensations wreathing themselves through my body now.

But my mind was still mine, for the moment, and I glimpsed the Master Sword through the storm of light. I had to bring it with me. I needed her with me. This would be all for naught if I couldn’t lay a hand upon the blade.

I lurched forward, doubling over in pain. My hands slapped roughly against the altar, but it was nothing against the burning sensation riddling my body. One hand drew back in reflex against my chest as my heart threatened to drum its way out. The other kept its grip on the altar as I desperately dragged myself towards the Sword That Seals the Darkness.

I felt as though I was fighting a windstorm. My body wanted nothing more than to be cast into the clouds. But I couldn’t relent. Not with Link depending on me. Not with everyone depending on me.

I grit my teeth and lunged forward. My chest was on fire, and my fingers squeezed harder into my skin to restrain whatever force wanted to erupt from it. I don’t know how, but I knew that time was growing short. My fingers were inches away from the Master Sword. I summoned the last of my will and extended my arm, finally feeling my fingers curl around the hilt.

In this storm of light growing ever brighter—to the point where I could see nothing but the golden glow around me—I allowed myself the slightest relief as I jerked the broken sword flat against my chest. My other hand joined it on the remnants of the blade, holding it tight against me as though it were my most precious possession.

Through everything, the only thing I could see beyond the light were the clouds above. I fixed my gaze on a single point above, trying to focus as my mind began to burn alongside my body.

“Link!” I shouted to the sky. My voice was utterly dire. The second half of my sentence faded in and out of my mind. I didn’t want to lose it. I didn’t want to lose everything I knew. I everyone I knew. All I loved. I didn’t want to lose me.

But I was drowning in light. There was no air: only a brilliant white fire that enveloped my body, heart, and mind. My eyes closed, and I searched. I searched through my mind for those words I needed to say. That message I had to pass onto Link. The haze of light obscured everything. Words were becoming difficult to recall, much less speak. I would’ve lost it all were it not for one thing I saw.

A memory. Through the hurricane of light, I saw a scene through a slit flickering as though between a cracked open door. I heaved myself toward it and blearily stared through it. I saw my countless memories playing through at blistering speed. Even so, I comprehended every single one. But where they slowed and let me linger were the ones where I saw him. I saw Link with me at the school at Hateno, in Faron at the preserve, and as I found a rare golden horse.

Then I found myself looking further back, and the memories played more slowly. I saw when he protected me from the blades of the Yiga, when he escorted me through the forest toward Hyrule Castle as the Calamity began, and when he gave his life for me near Fort Hateno. But most of all, I found the memories finally stopping to let me live in the moment after I’d sealed away Calamity Ganon, standing in Hyrule Field with him and him alone. In all those moments, and especially then, I saw Link’s eyes and the unwavering belief he had for me to achieve all I could for Hyrule.

That was the thought I latched onto. His hope. His belief. The one handhold in a storm that threatened to sweep me away. It was small, but it was enough. I forced my eyes open again, seeing the world through strange shades of purples, blues, greens, and golds. With the last of my strength, I let out a cry that rung across the entire plateau.

“Protect them all!”

The handhold broke, and light engulfed me within and without. I couldn’t comprehend what I felt for several long moments. I know I screamed, but instead of my voice, a long, bellowing, bestial wail trumpeted through the lands.

I couldn’t understand why the sound felt wrong yet normal at the same time. It felt wrong yet normal to feel my claws scrape against the ground. It felt strange yet normal to heavy my long, massive form upward. It felt odd yet normal to feel air flowing past me as I took flight. It felt normal for the sun to warm my white scales as I crested upward through the clouds. It felt perfectly normal to weave through the sky with ease.

But what felt strange were these sad images plaguing my mind.

This fear. What was it?

This regret. What was it?

This grief. What was it?

This longing. What was it?

This duty. What was it?

No… the duty felt right. The longing was obscure… but not entirely unfamiliar. But everything else felt wrong. It was foreign. It wasn’t mine.

But all that was fading. These images of strangers praising me, leaving me, scolding me, comforting me, and saving me were once crystal clear. But with every passing moment, to my relief, they were growing foggier. As they became hazier, eventually becoming listless smoke in my mind, water built up in the corners of my eyes.

Tears? A dragon does not weep. I don’t know why I wanted shed tears over the images of this stranger’s life. I didn’t want it. Any of it. I wanted to be in the sky where I belonged. I wanted to bask in my power and keep to this beautiful land.

I blinked, and the tears fell away, falling around me in a spiral to the corners of the land. Now, I could only see the beauty of the sky and the lands below in vibrant shades of green, blue, purple, and gold. I let out a triumphant cry as the haunting images in my mind faded completely. What torture they were.

Now they wouldn’t interfere. I could fulfill my duty and pour my power into something I cherished. And I had all the time in the world to do it.

[moregraceful]

put 712 of the worst words ever put in a google doc tonight BUT! it is 712 more words in the google doc than i had yesterday. this fic will be more than 2k, so help me god

[beyond-far-horizons]

Ilyena - an analysis of The Wheel of Time’s Lost Lenore

Part One - Who was Ilyena and why does she matter?

I’ve loved Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time series for over twenty-five years for many reasons, and it’s famous for its vast range of characters. But increasingly I keep being drawn back to one minor character who many could dismiss as a cliché, even if she wasn’t the perfect example of a Lost Lenore. So I’ve decided to write a meta on Ilyena Moerelle Dalisar/ Ilyena Therin Moerelle to explore her often overlooked significance and why other major writing decisions in the books likely led to her ambiguous place in the narrative and in fans’ reception of her.

Spoilers for the whole series abound.

Ilyena was the beloved wife of Lews Therin Telamon - the primary hero/destroyer figure of the previous Age. She was murdered by him, along with all their family and friends, as a result of the madness inflicted on him after his infamous Sealing of the Dark One’s Prison. This event occurs in the series’ very first prologue, and not only heralds the terrible transformation the world of the books undergoes for the next three thousand years, but it also haunts Lews Therin’s reincarnation - the Dragon Reborn - for most of the current story in various ways. 

Despite Ilyena being a very minor character, I think I love her partly because Lews Therin - our tragic hero - does, and her harrowing death at the hands of her beloved (along with her children and loved ones) is what starts off this incredible tale. This tragedy permeates through the series - not just in the horror that the Dragon and his reincarnation invoke in people because of this act, but because it sets the tone for the fate of all channelling men - if you channel saidin you will go mad, and likely kill all you love before you die rotting. 

And the Shadow fell upon the Land, and the World was riven stone from stone. The oceans fled, and the mountains were swallowed up, and the nations were scattered to the eight corners of the World. The moon was as blood, and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead. All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the Shadow and the Breaking of the World. And him they named Dragon. (from Aleth nin Taerin alta Camora, The Breaking of the World. Author unknown, the Fourth Age)

The Hook

I know it sounds crazy (pardon the pun), but it’s this grim fate that is such a continuing hook for me - a hero is needed to save the world, but is destined to repeat this terrible, unjust price as a consequence. It’s the juxtaposition of power and glory mixed with madness and death that’s always fascinated me with The Wheel of Time over all other series, especially as Jordan is able to convey the horror without gratuitousness and with a sense of potential hope. The fact that, as someone said on a forum years ago, the Dragon Reborn and his Asha’man must face this fate to do their duty, makes their resolve to so truly heroic. As a plot device and a magic system consequence, it gives instant high emotional stakes, especially combined with the seductive, addictive power of saidin thatmakes madness inevitable. What sacrifices did these unfortunate men and their families make over three thousand years because they couldn’t stop channelling? How is our protagonist Rand going to overcome this? What will happen now that channelling men trained as weapons are once again being unleashed on the world? And so on…

But also what’s compelling is the nature of reincarnation in these books - the very nature of reality means you might have a destiny, your fate could be bound together with your loved ones and, critically, that there may be second chances to put things right. Ironically, this last part is central to Ilyena and the theme of the whole series, but how it’s executed is a whole other matter. But more on that later… 

Restorative Justice

And partly I’m fascinated with Ilyena because we know so little about her. I always want to give female characters their due and in a lot of ways The Wheel of Time does this, but not so much with Ilyena. She’s critical to our hero and the story - both as a dire warning and as an agonising guilt - but we never even hear her speak. This is despite the fact her husband (and murderer) becomes a constant voice in Rand’s head, literally driving him insane with memories and whimperings about her. We don’t know what Ilyena did for a living or even in text if she was Aes Sedai. She’s a classic example of both the ‘Stuffed in the Fridge’ trope and the ‘Lost Lenore’ trope, and it infuriates me that she means so much to a saga that has huge numbers of developed female characters with agency, achievements and backstory, yet we never get to hear hers. Everything we know about Ilyena is used to reinforce Lews Therin’s (and therefore Rand’s) pain in the narrative. She is a tragic figure, a mere cipher for suffering, yet she has so much potential.

So far, so very much like many older fantasy series with male authors, yet as previously stated, this isn’t usual for Jordan, which is one of the reasons I fell in love with the books to begin with.

Yet in a series that is founded on reincarnation, destiny and foreshadowing, Ilyena is never explicitly reincarnated and reunited with her love Lews Therin nor is her vaguely alluded to past with major villains Mierin/Lanfear and Barid Bel Medar/Demandred ever elaborated upon. Her children too are never really discussed; the series is instead diluted by an ever-widening array of characters and their petty politics (in my view). It’s widely considered that from Books 7/8 onwards the series’ loses its focus, with fans divided on whether it regains this in Book 11, in the Sanderson co-written final three, or at all. Author Robert Jordan was suffering with illness and pressure and also wanted to explore themes like miscommunication and myriad POVs on the end-times. It’s his series and I have to respect that, but I can’t help feeling that the books I fell in love with - a series with Ilyena and her tragedy at its heart - would have been better served by a tighter focus and a better resolution for her and the event that sparked everything. I also think Jordan’s insistence on Rand’s three lovers derailed Ilyena’s significance in the story in ways I’ll discuss later.

What We Know

So what do we actually know about Ilyena? Below I’ll bullet-point everything I’ve been able to tease about her from the main series, adjacent books like The Wheel of Time Companion, The World of Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time and The Origins of the Wheel of Time, Robert Jordan’s notes, and his answers recorded on the Theoryland site.

Name. Her full maiden name was Ilyena Moerelle Dalisar. There isn’t an Old Tongue meaning given, although someone once suggested ‘Dalisar’ could mean ‘woman of clocks’ (aka something to do with time) from ‘dali’ - clock and ‘sar’ - she/woman.

Married Name. Her name was changed upon marriage to Ilyena Therin Moerelle, which seems like a weird anachronism for the egalitarian Age of Legends, especially as her husband’s surname seems to replace her prized Third Name. Some fans have reasoned that ‘Moerelle’ is therefore her Third Name, but that would go against the naming format Jordan used since he confirmed that ‘Telamon’ is Lews Therin’s Third Name. Therefore, it stands to reason ‘Dalisar’ is Ilyena’s. I personally think this is a slip-up from Jordan’s unconscious, old fashioned views, so I always call her by her maiden name.

Career/Social Status. She was brilliant and devoted enough to have gained the vaunted Third Name - the Second Age’s highest honour. Third Names were bestowed as a recognition for an individual’s exemplary service to wider society and, although very difficult to achieve, could be gained in many fields.

Appearance. Her description varies a little as she is often described as ‘golden-haired’ or, more derogatorily, as a ‘pale-haired milksop’ or ‘yellow-haired trollop’ by her rival Lanfear. But Rand via Lews Therin’s memories recalls she had ‘…a pretty face, skin like cream, golden hair exactly the shade of Elayne’s’, meaning she had red-gold hair (whatever that means!).

‘Sunhair’. Ilyena’s hair is considered so beautiful it earns her a common epithet ‘Sunhair’, which even arch-villain Ishamael uses.

Milksop? Lanfear’s insult of ‘milksop’, although it can’t be taken as accurate due to her bias, could also indicate an emotional softness or compassion. ‘Milksop’ is an old fashioned insult that implies weakness or frailness

Beauty. She is often described as pretty or beautiful and occasionally linked to Elayne in those terms.

Romantic Muse. Ilyena’s charms were enough to make two of the most acclaimed men of the Second Age fall for her. Lews Therin is so deeply in love with her that he utters phrases like ‘I will never forget Ilyena, not if all the world burns!’ and ‘Not even for Ilyena? I would burn the world and use my soul for tinder to hear her laugh again.’ He also angrily asserts that Demandred (formerly Barid Bel Medar) wanted Ilyena.

Love Triangle. Unfortunately (like everything to do with Ilyena) we learn next to nothing about this love triangle. It could just be a literary device to underline poor Barid Bel losing out to his rival yet again. We don’t know if Ilyena felt anything for the man who was ‘almost’ her husband’s equal in every way, and one of his foremost generals before defecting. Demandred’s only thought on the matter comes from Brandon Sanderson’s interpretation, so we don’t know how accurate that is to Jordan’s original vision. However, Demandred reflects that ‘Lews Therin had taken Ilyena’ as the final point in Lews Therin’s list of accomplishments over him. This implies that both men had been in competition over her affections, and possibly that Barid Bel had known Ilyena before Lews Therin and had even been romantically involved with her. Or possibly that is just how the entitled Forsaken viewed it, thinking of her as a possession worthy of him that his rival ‘stole’, similar to Lanfear with Ilyena’s husband. In Sanderson’s more tragic depiction, this event is partially implied to have damaged Barid Bel’s capacity for romantic love, despite finding himself drawn to the beautiful Shendla. But this new affection doesn’t stop him from threatening to enslave and assault Rand’s lovers for revenge - a promise he tells Leane to deliver to Rand in the final book A Memory of Light. We can imagine he might have longed to subject Ilyena to this fate had he ever captured her in the War of Power, especially given his history of horrifically over-reacting to imagined slights.

Aes Sedai? We don’t know what occupation Ilyena had either during the Age of Legends or the War of Power, or in text that she could channel. But we can infer that she was Aes Sedai because, as per The World of the Wheel of Time book, Lews Therin and she had a relationship for at least sixty years before her death and she isn’t described as showing any signs of age at her death. Even with the longer life spans of ordinary citizens during that time, that would still mean she would have met him when she was very young and he into his third century, which seems creepy and inappropriate. I wasn’t sure if she was Aes Sedai, but it seems very likely and would make her a better match as a life partner for Lews Therin. There is also a possible confirmation from RJ at a North Virginia signing that she was, which is also noted on Theoryland - https://groups.google.com/g/rec.arts.sf.written.robert-jordan/c/DrJxMGi4LF8/m/Ww1QBLHn8F4J.

Meeting her soulmate. Lews Therin met her long after his break-up with the ambitious Mierin/Lanfear, counter to Lanfear’s claim that Ilyena ‘stole’ him. Lanfear continues to blame Ilyena for her ‘loss’, and transfers her jealousy on to any woman that appears to be a love rival. Her possessiveness reaches murderous levels as she kills innocent bystanders, as well as trying to kill Rand and Aviendha in the current timeline. It’s unclear what Ilyena herself made of all of this in her own time.

Marriage and Rivalry. Lews Therin and Ilyena married about fifty years into the Collapse and approximately fifty years before the true War of Power. Lanfear made several blatant public approaches, and likely a number of secret ones, to regain Lews Therin’s affections during this time. She also tried to disrupt their wedding ceremony. 

Temper. Lews Therin said that ‘Ilyena never flashed her temper at me when she was angry with herself. When she gave me the rough side of her tongue, it was because she…’ implying that, while Ilyena could become angry or feisty, she wasn’t unjust or childish about it like Egwene was being when this memory surfaced. In the first prologue, he also mentioned to Ishamael that she will give him [Lews Therin] ‘the rough side of her tongue’ if she thinks he is keeping a guest from her.

Woman Trouble? The Heroes of the Horn in Book 2 imply that Lews Therin (the Dragon Soul) always chooses women who cause him trouble in some way. Given that they call him Lews Therin and Ilyena was Lews Therin’s true love in that lifetime, we might wonder what trouble she caused him. Was their courtship difficult? Was she captured like Egwene was at one point? Was she actually as feisty as someone like Aviendha or Nynaeve? Perhaps someone as arrogant as Lews Therin was known to be needed a woman that brought him down to earth?

Motherhood. She had at least four children (boys and girls) with her husband before her death and some were young enough to still be playing with toys at the time of their unfortunate demise. It seems a little strange that this couple would have young children given they were fighting an apocalyptic war with ultimate evil, but this could be one of those writing conflicts one has when world-building concepts hit plot logic. Either that or it could indicate Ilyena and Lews Therin wanted to be parents and continued to have hope in their world enough to do so.

Social Savy. Lews Therin remarks even in his madness to Ishamael that Ilyena loves conversation and often asks people many questions about themselves. He also says that she will get angry with him if she thinks he is hiding a guest from her. This indicates a warm, gregarious personality that enjoys company and entertaining, and also someone that is curious about people and the world in general.

The Voice? Lews Therin asks Ishamael if he has the Voice (i.e the Songs of Growing), that it will soon be time for the Singing and that in his and Ilyena’s home everyone is invited to take part. This could just be ‘first book syndrome’, but we get subtle hints through the series (and discussed further on The Thirteen Depository blog) that the Singing might be more more sacred that just Tree Singing ( i.e food production) and it’s tied up with the Dragon’s role as Champion of the Light and being ‘One with the Land’. I surmise that the Singing is about affirming the Pattern and the Light as well as growing food and Ilyena is implied to have the Voice, although that is just conjecture on my part. The mention of it does link with her and Lews Therin running a welcoming, life-affirming home, however.

Palatial Living. She and Lews Therin live in a sumptuous palace filled with masterworks of art and furniture inlaid with ivory and gold. It’s described both in the prologue to The Eye of the World and in a brief comparison to Caemlyn’s palace in Book 5.

True and Enduring Love. She and her husband had a loving marriage shown both by tragic quotes like: ’And time after time he [Rand/Lews Therin] faced a beautiful golden-haired woman, watched love turn to terror on her face. Part of him knew her. Part of him wanted to save her, from the Dark One, from any harm, from what he himself was about to do…’ Their love is also demonstrated by the depths of mourning, suicidal yearnings and apocalyptic tendencies the Lews Therin aspect of Rand expresses in his head at her loss. Even under a life threatening attack from Lanfear in The Fires of Heaven ‘Lews Therin’ affirms to Lanfear ‘“I was never yours, Mierin. I will always belong to Ilyena”’ and moments later on the point of near death ‘Ilyena, ever and always my heart.’

Never Forgotten/Source of Agony. Ilyena’s name appears on Rand’s ‘List of Women’ who have died for him, and her murder is very likely the reason for its existence, along with his Two Rivers upbringing. This list is moral ‘red line’ Rand cleaves to for his humanity, but also serves as a terrible tool he uses to harrow and harden himself emotionally as his burdens increase.

History Repeats Itself. Rand being forced to strangle his lover Min by the Forsaken Semirhage is a direct echo of Ilyena’s murder, worsened this time by their Warder bond and he being (mostly) sane, but enslaved.

Reborn again? The major turning point in Rand’s later character arc, when he is at his lowest point and contemplating destroying the world with the male Choedan Kal, comes when he realises that Ilyena (like himself) might also be reborn. His sin of killing her and all his other mistakes might be made right by the repeated opportunities offered by the turnings of the Wheel. The chapter in The Gathering Storm is called ‘Veins of Gold’ which refers both to the bonds of love he feels for his three lovers and the realisation that love and the opportunity to do better is the reason the world and the Wheel exist. With this, he is able to integrate Lews Therin’s memories/alter personality at last, and come to terms with Ilyena’s death and with his role as saviour/destroyer. 

First Love. According to Sanderson’s version, Lews Therin ‘“…did not know what love was. Centuries of life, and I never discovered it until I met her [Ilyena].”’

Cherished Memory. After his epiphany, Rand/Lews Therin now sees his love for Ilyena ‘like a glowing crystal, set upon a shelf and admired.’ 

Mythical Roots. The excellent fan scholar Linda Taglieri in the Thirteen Depository blog says: ‘Ilyena is similar to the Greek personal name Iliana, a variant of Helen, meaning ‘bright’ or ‘shining light’. Ilyena was known as Sunhair. Golden-haired Elayne’s name is also a variant of Helen, and is a hint that she may be Ilyena reborn. Morelle is a surname and Dalisar is in Afghanistan.’ 

The Face that Launched a Thousand Ships. I’d add that the ‘shining light’ could refer to Ilyena’s famous hair or her sunny personality. The name Helen also links to the Illiad’s famous Helen of Troy - ‘the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ilium’, and who was a part of notable love battles such as between her husband King Menelaus and Prince Paris of Troy. Ilyena, of course, was caught between the bitter rivalry of Lews Therin and Barid Bel Medar whose armies ripped apart vast areas of the world. Jordan also used the city/country of Ilian as a reference to Troy (along with Cairhien’s topless towers) whose name is Greek is Ilion  and in Latin ‘Ilium’), both of which sound like Ilyena.

Manner of Death. Ilyena and her family’s deaths are inspired by the ancient Greek myth of Heracles (Roman name ‘Hercules’) who was driven mad by his jealous step-mother Hera - Queen of the Gods. In his madness, Heracles kills his wife and children and in some versions of the story must accomplish his famous Labours to atone for the crime.

Links with a Goddess. In the new book The Origins of the Wheel of Time, author and academic Michael Livingston says Ilyena’s name comes from the Mesopotamian goddess of fertility and power Inanna, who was also associated with the planet Venus, the morning star (linking to Lews Therin whose mythological references include Lucifer as the Morning star and Lightbringer.) I’m not sure whether Livingston, who has access to Jordan’s notes, gleaned this information from them or from his own surmises about Jordan’s mythological inspirations. Inanna is famous for her descent into the Underworld in a way like Ilyena is (in)famous for her own descent into death.

And this is about all (as far as my obsessed fan gleanings can divine) that we get! If anyone can add more, please let me know in the comments/notes.

So here we have a picture of a what is essentially a traditionally ‘perfect’ woman - she’s beautiful, talented, loving, sociable and a good homemaker. She also seems innocent and pure, especially compared to the dangerously seductive Lanfear (invoking the Betty vs Veronica trope), but Lews Therin mentions ‘the rough side of her tongue’ twice and Jordan rarely wrote heroines that weren’t feisty and independent. Whether we see Ilyena as the ‘perfect’ woman or not doesn’t really matter, especially as that is subjective; what interests me most (aside from her mystery) is the love between her and her husband that is at the core of their bond. That, and the horror and trauma that resounds throughout the story as a result of that love’s betrayal and loss. 

But for me and others, this central theme is not satisfactorily resolved. The main question about Ilyena on fan sites like Reddit and Dragonmount is whether she was reincarnated, and, if so, who is she? There’s a common theory her soul was ‘split’ by the trauma of her demise, essentially so she could be Rand’s three lovers. This has confirmed not to be true, although interestingly in Jordan’s early notes Rand would have to undergo trials in another realm to reconstitute his lover’s mind, body and soul after an assault/torment at the hands of one of the Forsaken. There is also a common consensus that Elayne is Ilyena reborn given their superficial similarities: lovers of the Dragon soul with golden/red-gold hair, pale skin and blue eyes and a similar name. But this is never confirmed either in story or by the writing/editorial team. Aviendha and Elmindreda (Min) also sound similar (ish) to Ilyena, and Rand himself is noted by Lanfear to look nothing like his previous incarnation except his height. This indicates that a similar body gives little true indication to the soul within. 

To me, these repeated fan questions highlight a latent dissatisfaction with what we are given. Fans shouldn’t be asking who Ilyena is reborn as, after fourteen doorstopper books on a series whose main theme is reincarnation and second chances. It also saddens me that this leads to some fans being resigned to Ilyena’s irrelevance in this turning of the Wheel, saying that she was ‘just’ the Dragon’s love in the previous life. The kind of true love someone like Lews Therin/the Dragon has, the kind we and Rand have to hear about across nine books, strikes me as a love of many lifetimes, not just one. Writing about it this way certainly sets up a narrative promise that that is the case. I might be a complete romantic, but the subject of the line ‘I will never forget Ilyena, not if all the world burns!’ deserves a little better resolution than ‘If I live again, then she might as well!’

So instead of true lovers torn apart by fate and reunited once more, who did Jordan replace Ilyena with and how might this have affected how we view her and the story in retrospect? Find out in Part Two!

______________________________________________________________

Image Credits: 1st Image is my art of Ilyena, 2nd, 3rd and final images comes from the Eye of the World graphic novel adapted by Chuck Nixon and illustrated by Chase Conley (and well worth checking out, especially for an adorable Rand and a handsome yet unhinged Ishamael, even if he is lacking in thigh-high boots), the Demandred painting is by Ariel Burgess, the photos of red-gold hair from a Wella blog, the Horn of Valere icon comes from RJ's books and the painting of Helen of Troy is by Pre-Raphaelite artist Everlyn De Morgan.

[jupitermelichios]

so in the ongoing saga of the worst people on AO3 being the only ones to read my MCU rewrite

woke up this morning to a comment accusing me of plagurising MCU canon by writing fic about it

the fic is locked to registered users only, because the comments have been so overwhealmingly horribly I needed to be able to potentially block every single commenter

which means that this person is a registered AO3 user. they have an account. and somehow they think writing a canon divergent au is fucking plagurism

how?! and how do these people keep finding me?!

[thevioletcaptain]

someday soon i'm going to post several 10k+ deancas fics on ao3 all at once because i'm deranged and didn't want to start posting any of them until they were complete, but that also means that they'll probably all be done at the same time. or maybe i should stagger them over a week or something. we shall see. anyway, lotta words incoming.