#all i know are squire knight and commander/general

[greeenchrysanthemums]

I'm so sorry for the spam reblog of your GG rivals au stuff, but!!!! I'M SO. Ahem, I'm so so normal about it (<- lies).

I'm so curious how Gem got her start in the army and how she advanced rank seemingly so quickly! I mean I don't know the ages in this but I assume she's mayyybe in her late twenties? I dunno just a guess, but it also begs the question of when she joined? I mean you said that she always wanted to join the army so I'd imagine her joining at a similar age as Etho. Either way! Geminislay!

I just love this au so much! I'm gonna think about it all the time ♡

Hello! It's so exciting to get asks for this au! I'm so glad that people seem to like it so much. And not to worry, I quite enjoying seeing everyone being so excited about my au in my notifications. It is a delight.

As for your question:

She did join the army at around the same age Etho had, so maybe 16-17 (he is 9 or so years older than her here).

After leaving her hometown and enlisting, she became Impulse's squire. This was where she met Scott as well. He was a friend of Impulse's, and therefore she naturally seen a lot of him. They all grew close very quickly.

Right from the start, she showed exceptional swordsmanship, as well as brilliant organizational skills. She was quick-witted and a natural leader capable of taking charge in stressful situations, so her climb in rank was only natural.

Her first promotion was, coincidentally, because of Grian. She was only a few months into her stay at the castle when an explosion was set off in the courtyard and the weapons room was broken in to. While everyone else was panicked and unsure of what to do, she stepped up and led evacuation efforts before running off on her own to face Grian. She was the only one who managed to stop him from taking a great deal of weaponry, and even had him restrained for a period of time before he escaped. This bumped her right up into knighthood, where she was finally able to serve beside her friends instead of under them.

She would remain a knight for several years after that, and she was regularly assigned to deal with all things Grian since she seemed to be the only one capable of subduing him. It was never anything as grand as breaking into the castle again, but she helped stop her fair share of riots, and ran him out of town before he could start anything all together.

Her next major promotion wouldn't be until she was around 23-24. She ended up fighting in a war with a neighboring kingdom (more details on that another time, I do not want to spoil everything too quickly) in which she took charge of many battles, as well as worked with the previous commander to formulate strategies.

She was at first seen as arrogant and cocky by her peers for how quick she was to input her own ideas and boss them around, but that didn't last very long as it became evident that she knew what she was doing. In fact, she quickly became highly respected, maybe even a little feared, for how deadly and efficient she was.

Following the death of the previous commander during the war, Ren only saw it fit that he give the title and responsibilities over to her despite her young age. She had more than proved herself time and time again, and there was no one better for the job.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

The princess´ favour (Criston Cole x Targtower!Reader)

synopsis: Your love may never be accepted by the people around you, that doesn´t hold you back from expressing it in the privacy of your chambers.

warnings: age gap, kinda forbidden relationship, smut, oral sex (m receiving), afab reader

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

As a girl you never understood what was so great about tourneys. Sitting beside your mother, flinching away from the raw violence of it all, while your brothers watched with a fascination you had rarely seen them have for anything. However, now as a woman grown, you began to see the appeal. Not for the fighting, but for something entirely else. Or rather someone entirely else. Sitting all the way in the front row of the stands with your brother Aemond, who was just under the age of being allowed to participate himself, watching on as knight after knight gets knocked off their horse. Analysing and talking on and on about what they could have done better, while your eyes solely rested on one knight, sitting on his horse waiting for his turn to most assuredly destroy his opponent. Your knight, as you called him in the secrecy of hidden places in the gardens, empty hallways around the keep and your chambers in the dead of night.

When it is Criston Cole's turn to compete against some knight from the Reach, whose name went in one ear and out the other almost immediately, he rides up to the stands. As his horse comes to a stand, his helmet finds its way under his arm and those dark eyes search for your own.

With a poorly concealed wide smile you lean over the railing. "Ser Criston."

His eyes light up with the way his name sounds falling from your lips and his own lips split into a smile, nodding to you in greeting.

“Your highness. I am sure to win this tourney. Would you do me the honour of doing so with your favour?” His voice carries over the background of excited chatter and knights barking commands at their squires.

Without hesitation you skip over to the small table to grab the ring braided from acacia blossoms to let it down the lance that is safely propped up against his side.

“Good luck, Ser.” You chirp, waiting for him to bow his head ever so lightly and then ride away to take his position. Only then you sit back down by Aemond´s side. The side eye he gives you easily goes ignored, as in the moment he opens his mouth, the horses start to race towards each other.

Of course, Criston ends up successfully knocking his opponent off his horse, having you jump up to applaud him enthusiastically. Along many other Ladies. Yet one look of his beautiful, dark eyes is enough to quell your doubts about his loyalty. It would be your chambers he would be sneaking into later.

“Have I told you how much I hate seeing you get hurt like this?” Your thumbs run over his cheeks to assess the extent of his wounds.

“You have, princess.” Criston smiles up at you, brown eyes watering as you run one of the digits over his busted lip, despite his victory he naturally had taken a few hits himself.

The heavy plates of his armour discarded and the clothes underneath unbuttoned to reveal his muscular chest.

“My apologies.” You mumble upon hearing him suck in a sharp breath.

Criston shifts ever so slightly before he lets you put the washcloth to his skin again, wandering down steadily. When you reach his chest, the backs of your noses brush against each other ever so slightly. Your breath catches in your throat and almost reflexively Criston's fingers twitch against your thigh.

"How are you feeling?" You mumble, still fully concentrated on cleaning his wounds.

"I feel quite alright, now that I have you all to myself." Criston looks at you, the glimpse of something sparkling in his eyes.

"My attention will always be on you only, my sweet knight. My affections will only ever belong to you." You put down the cloth you had used to clean him up and run your hands through his hair, before kissing his forehead.

After that you barely separate until your foreheads rest against each other, noses rubbing against each other playfully, before Criston´s lips find their way onto yours. They lap at each other in tender, languid motions while eager hands run over clothed bodies they had explored a multitude of times before. Still, even if you knew each other’s bodies like the back of your own hand, you would never grow tired of it. In all this time the butterflies never calmed.

In the blink of an eye Criston joins you on the bed, straddling your hips and pushing you onto your back. The world spins around the two of you from the abruptness of the motion, as the rough pad of a thumb traces your jaw line first, before running over your lower lip.

Instinctively your legs wrap around Criston´s hips. Before your lips can seal in another kiss though, you roll the two of you around, to comfortably kneel above the knight with a triumphant teasing smile.

“You have done enough already. Let me reward you for your win.” You whisper against his neck.

The tip of your tongue traces a line down the middle of his chest and abs to the hem of his pants.

On the bed Criston propped himself up on his elbows to look at you better, his breath hitching as you teased just under the material.

“As you wish, princess.” He breathed, hiding a half smile, by biting his lower lip.

You follow this up by pulling his pants and breeches down to his ankles to set the tan hardness free from its confines. The same action makes your mouth water at the thought of what was to follow alone already.

In a matter of moments, you gently take the base of his cock into one hand to lick up the length of the vein on its underside. When the wet muscle reaches the tip, your lips wrap around it eagerly, teasing the weeping slit. Underneath the hand resting on his strong thigh, the tired muscles begin to shake from the teasing actions.

“Princess…” Criston's shuddering voice sounds through the room.

His dark eyes, though half closed, are trained as you give his cock an experimental suck. Taking it in just a bit deeper. As an immediate reaction you can see from the corner of your eyes how the knight’s hands grip the sheets a bit tighter. With a happy sigh at the reaction, you set a comfortable pace. His hips meet your mouth, thrusting up with trembling legs.

After a while his thrusts become harsher, hitting the back of your throat now to elicit the most enticing moans mixed with quiet gagging sounds he had heard from you.

Amid trying to concentrate on breathing through your nose and the view of him vanishing under a veil of tears, the hand on his thigh wanders upwards. Immediately his body trembling turned into a full-on shaking. Your hand barely cups his stones, yet the touch pulls a groan from him, that has the juices from between your legs dripping down your own thighs. The sound is more rousing than anything you had ever heard before. You gently roll them in your palm and the knees on either side of your shoulders tighten abruptly and Criston´s hips push off the bed and into your mouth on their own volition.

“So good… I don´t think I am able to hold back much longer.” The cries of pleasure from his lips grow louder, uncaring of who outside the door might hear them.

The tip of the knight’s length slips past the back of your mouth and into your throat to make you gag. The wet sound fills the room for a moment followed by sputtering and panting, as you desperately gasp for air. At the same time, you never stopped pumping his hard cock.

The quick motions and have his body shaking uncontrollably, even more so when you put your lips to his big sack, placing gentle, wet kisses onto it and sucking it into your mouth. The two of you moan in unison. The vibrations again send shocks through Criston’s body, his eyes rolling back into his head and arms underneath going limp, unable to hold him up any longer.

“Please, princess.” The begging whimpers get repeated like a prayer.

You barely manage to separate long enough from laving affection onto his lower body to answer. “Please what, my sweet knight?”

“I'm so close." Is the desperate, needy whine you get to hear in turn. “Please, I want to finish.”

It's truly adorable how he still asks for permission to let his climax overcome him. Hips trying to hold back from trusting into your hand until you answered his pleads, swollen lips hanging open and a sheen of sweat coating his face.

“Go on then. Paint my face with your seed.” You encourage him, before going back to pay attention to his stones. Your tongue flicks out to play with them, while your hand tugs on the knight’s hardness just a bit faster. The other hand, which rubs circles into his inner thigh again, wanders up just far enough to let one finger put the lightest amount of pressure on the point right behind the sack. The reaction it earns in return is all the bigger.

Criston´s hands fist into the sheets and the groan that breaks free from tightly pressed together lips has you praying that no one would storm into the chambers while Criston does as you have told him. Painting your face with his seed, making you look like one of the women serving in the pillow houses in flea bottom. The ones Aegon would talk about, whenever he wished to upset either you or one of your siblings.

And in the moment, there exists no more beautiful sight in the entire world to your secret lover. You continue pumping his cock until he has nothing more to give and the whimpers from above have turned even more raw and high pitched. For a moment after that you sit back on your haunches to just revel in the glow that shines from Criston after his climax. One finger collects the seed on your face to get it into your mouth.

After that moment of respite, the washcloth is picked right back up and wet again. This time to wipe your face first and the knight's privates afterwards.

But the second you crawl onto the mattress the both of you know that there is not much time left to cuddle. Outside the sun started to set, colouring the sky in all kinds of beautiful shades of red and orange. Alerting you that you would be expected at a dinner in your mother's chambers and Criston needed to go back on post. Perhaps you had taken a bit too long to take care of his wounds, but when your knight’s lips graze yours, his chest still heaving underneath your hand, you can't find it in you to care about any of that. Not as long as he would be lying there with you.

“I do not know what I have done to deserve you, princess. You are too good to me.” He rasps against your lips, noses brushing against each other to make the moment more intimate, as your hands wander over the other´s sides and arms.

“You deserve only the best. I hope you know that.” You answer in a raw voice.

[ghxstlly]

Do you have a general summary of the vampire AU? Like their dynamics and everything? I feel like I don’t know much about that one compared to the other two

Thank you for your patience!

I hope you can accept my apologies, I've been highly slow with sharing stuff about my vampire AU 😭 But here's some now!

Lord Nikolaevich III — Stolen from his home as a young man and sired by the fearsome, cruel vampire lord Byron Nikolaevich, Friedrich was little more than a lowly thrall for a long time. Weak, timid, he was forced to carry out menial tasks for his vampire lord master and was content to stay on the down-low. However, when a crusade led by the Church of Targoviste stormed Lord Byron's castle, intent to kill him, the vampire lord, determined to preserve the Nikolaevich bloodline, passed all his titles and power to Friedrich... who just so happened to be in the room. When Byron was slain, the castle was destroyed, leaving Friedrich and a handful of thralls loyal to the Nikolaevich bloodline as the only survivors of the attack.

Rising then as the new Lord Nikolaevich, Friedrich had little idea what to do. He wasn't cut out for the cruelty and mercilessness needed for being a vampire lord at all, and opted to hole up in a different castle nearby the small village of Tusavichy, where he tries to pretend he doesn't exist.

Juliane Lecarde — Juliane is a young woman who lives in Tusavichy, a friendly face in a cold mountain village. Though by day she is a simple peasant, a husbandless one at that, by night she is a secret witch, spending her time reading and learning the art of medicine. Though not particularly superstitious or religious, she does harbor a healthy fear of vampires, and finds herself frustrated and mistrustful of the efficacy of Tusavichy's defense against night dwelling creatures.

Sir Idris Trantoul — Idris, the Knight Commander of Tusavichy, is a fiery spirit who harbors a deep-seated hatred for evil. Having been selected as his predecessor’s squire after his fighting spirit was noticed, he rose through the ranks as his victories in battle grew in numbers. Unfortunately, however, he finds himself needing to prove his worth to the people of Tusavichy as a shield against the darkness, for an attack by a werewolf one night left him severely defeated and humiliated. Thus, he has vowed to stop at nothing to kill the elusive Lord Nikolaevich, the one called The Ghost of Tusavichy— the vampire that no one has ever seen— to prove himself a worthy protector and Knight Commander.

Adella Viscardi — Adella is a sireless thrall— a weak vampire with no master. Having witnessed her own brother, Friedrich, be stolen from her family when she was younger, she could not understand why he never came back for her. And when she was stolen away and turned into a vampire herself, she heard that he had become a powerful lord and felt betrayed and hurt, slowly growing a resentment for him which culminated in a plan to usurp his powers and titles.

Elie Lavaude — A mysterious, suspiciously powerful vampire, Elie was discovered by Adella during her efforts to find a way to destroy her brother. Though she was highly intimidated and afraid at first, to her surprise, Elie was willing to hear her out and was rather easily convinced to join her cause. Apparently seeing it as a mutually beneficial arrangement, Elie's intentions are unclear, though she did seem particularly swayed by Adella's promise that she'd never have to hunt for her own food again if they succeed.

[allyriadayne]

could you talk more about the daynes post robert's rebellion?

SURE

first of, this is mostly my hcs, speculations and a mix of things i must have read back when there was the height of asoiaf meta in 2013 because there is almost nothing about the daynes post robert's rebellion. so bear with me.

just to set the scene, the members of house dayne left after the mess of the rebellion were the unnamed older brother of ashara and arthur, the lord and father of edric; allyria the youngest sister that i headcanon to be much younger than her older siblings seeing as she is betrothed to beric dondarrion who is was in his twenties per agot so i don't think the marriage would've occurred if allyria was in her middle thirties or forties if she was closer to ashara and arthur; edric, twelve years old, beric's loyal squire; and gerold aka darkstar head of high hermitage, also in his twenties? around arianne's age.

(c) Eddie Mendoza for the cover of A Song of Ice and Fire 2025 Calendar

under the cut because i'm crazy

i don't know if the books are ever going to make clear what happened at the toj-starfall zone but we can be sure only that ned went from one to the other with lyanna's bones and supposedly baby jon to return dawn to the daynes. ashara had a baby of father unknown and shortly after ned was there she took her own life, body never found. i go back and forward in thinking if ashara's brother lord dayne was there with her when ned went or if he was one of the dornish commanders defending the targs. in any case, his presence was completely zero during this time so i think he was too injured for a time or too sickly in general to do something to reestablish the dayne name in dorne after arthur being an important part in elia's disgrace and indirectly, her murder.

because yeah after arthur and ashara's death and going by the books there is zero mention of them, even in the chapters set in dorne or others about dornish characters make no mention of them. and it's strange considering that when you read awoiaf and f&b, the daynes are The knights of dorne. queen nymeria marries a dayne, sends a starfall king to the wall, meria martell commands a dayne to burn oldtown, arguably one of the most powerful cities of the time, out of all the sons of daeron ii and myriah martell, maekar marries a dayne, the only dornish lady. it could be nothing OR something but i think it does mean something. we see there's no daynes in oberyn's party in kl or speculation in general about the new sword of the morning beyond remembering dear old arthur. they've fallen completely into obscurity. the house was reduced to a young girl and its child lord.

edric's dad dies before agot (he doesn't seem to afflicted by his death when he meets arya if he were less than a year dead, inheriting the lordship at such a young age would've been dramatic to him), i would say just after becoming a page to beric dondarrion at 7 yo and i headcanon the marriage between beric and allyria was brokered at this time too. this was part of a fic i was writing like 500 years ago but i think lord dayne must have known he would not live too long, not to see edric grow so he must have looked for someone to prepare and take care of allyria and edric after he died. betrothing allyria to a marcher lord is......strange. if a dornish person would have to be married to someone it would go like this 1) not from the reach 2) not from the marches in that order, there is too much bad blood. the daynes have a longstanding tradition of killing oakhearts so marrying allyria to the heir of blackhaven and giving him his only heir, lord dayne entrusted a complete stranger with the future of his house.

beric would've been in charge of teaching young edric just about everything. he would be living in the stormlands for almost half his live, learning from a his maester and how to govern a stormlands' castle. meanwhile, allyria in a few years probably around agot time would be ready to marry beric when she reached her majority. she would've been the defacto ruler of starfall in edric's name when lord dayne dies, i think the idea was to swap when edric gained his spurs: he would return to starfall after a successful run as a tourney knight, probably gaining some recognition from whatever beric was tasked with at the capital (rip king) and then accompany allyria to be married to his knight master. andddd fin.

the thing is. allyria being so young during the rebellion, lord dayne absence for whatever reason and then dying, let the younger members with no connections in the wider dorne political context. it is said young children go to the water gardens and it's fun yeah but it's def a starting point for politics for many lords. it's close to the martells and it's an opportunity to make friends with future rulers, /everyone/ is going. the daynes didn't have this. allyria was probably very young when the rebellion happened (i think no older than 5) and for obvious reasons she was not sent to the water gardens; as for ned, i think lord dayne could not secure an invitation, this or he died too early to even try. if allyria had gone, she would've been for sure one of arianne's companions, she has both the breeding and the standing, but NOT and it's crucial, the reputation. see what arianne has to say in affc about gerold's standing:

"He is highborn enough to make a worthy consort, she thought. Father would question my good sense, but our children would be as beautiful as dragonlords."

it's must be passé to associate with the daynes at this point. think of the conningtons losing all standing when joncon lost the battle and was exiled.

in any case, allyria, more than edric, grew in obscurity. as of the books she's betrothed to a marcher lord nobody knows if he's alive or dead, has a missing nephew and it's in charge of one of the most ancient first men houses of westeros. sad! at least ned is having more fun. which leads me to darkstar. i see his thirst to prove himself, his notoriety as a cruel knight as another way to separate himself from what the main branch has fallen into. he is in his twenties so he was probably affected by the same dark cloud as the others.

"If I led a quarter of a million men to death, would they call me Gerold the Great? I shall remain Darkstar, I think. At least it is mine own."

he wants to have what arthur had, but not be the sword of the morning, he wants something that it's his own, as he says. he may want the sword and the fame like arthur, but not to be associated with another's bad luck so to speak. it's very telling that he's called one of "the most dangerous man in dorne" and what is the sword of the morning if not this? he's a dark mirror of the daynes pre rebellion, just like allyria would've been a renown beauty just like ashara is she wasn't cloistered. something something gerold and allyria as mirrors of what could've happened to ashara and arthur if they hadn't the protection of the monarchy.

i once read gerold is meant to have young ned's plot after germ scrapped the five year time skip and i think this is half true. i do think there is something to be done about dawn the sword and i think gerold is going to steal it and do something with it, something ned can't do because he's /still/ in the riverlands. i don't know what but i think it ties nicely with the theme of deconstructing the noble knight archetype. arthur is only great because he knew how to kill.

writing this i had a breakdown about the parallels between arthur and gerold

to finish this rambling i want to say my hopes for house dayne in what is left of asoiaf is 1) ned alive 2) gerold steals dawn 3) and like. something. honestly i will take anything at this point about allyria. DOES SHE EVEN KNOW? my poor girl and 4) if germ wants to clear the toj situation then it's fine.

thanks for asking and to anyone reaching this point lol. this is mostly general but if you want to talk about anything specific just message me! k thx muah!

[skyheld]

this is not even related to the memes, and maybe you've already answered this, but would Ameridan have their vallas'lin removed if they were offered the choice?

unprompted | always accepting | @mercysought

"How are you faring?" the priestess of Dirthamen's temple asks as she puts aside her tools and stretches her back.

Ameridan takes the chance to open his eyes and blink away tears. The small room off the temple's main hall is dimly lit, the priestess' eyes reflecting the flames of a single Veilfire torch. He is holding his father's hand, and his mother has leaned forward to wipe the sweat from his brow. "It is not too bad."

It hurts, it hurts worse than he thought it would despite hearing last year's initiates attempts to frighten those of this year with horror stories about the process. But there is pride in the way it hurts. This is both the cost of devotion and the proof of it.

"I am almost done with your forehead", the priestess continues, pushing Little Dread's giant head away before he starts licking at the fresh tattoos. "That and the bridge of your nose should be the most painful areas. We are not quite halfway through. You are doing very well."

His chest swells with pride. His father squeezes his fingers, and his mother kisses his brow before straightening up so the priestess can continue.

--------

"So you choose lilac, to go with the red of your hair", his commander says, crossing her arms with that wry smile that means she doesn't want to show she approves. "Well, we need not worry about losing you in a crowd; you will be visible."

He laughs. "As if you would worry about losing me in a crowd, vallaslin or not."

"Straighten your back", is all she says to that as the great doors are flung open and the initiates walk into the temple hall, their wolves at their sides, generations of Emerald Knights watching from the benches as the ceremony begins. They enter the hall as squires and will leave as knights themselves.

It is an honour, but the true honour is already written in blood on their faces.

-------

He sits in front of a mirror, and Telana helps him draw the lines on his body with a brush, to serve as guidance for the priest who will do the next set. She uses the sketch in his journal as a base but adds some modifications of her own where the idea does not work well in practice. When she's done he does the same to her, working freehand to extend the lines of Ghilan'nain's vallaslin across her torso and down her arms and legs.

"The ribs are supposed to be painful", he says when she indicates she wants something resembling halla horns there, just under her breasts.

"If I was worried about pain", Telana replies, "I would not be getting more vallaslin than I already have."

He looks at her, and she is so beautiful in that moment, in the soft firelight reflected by the mirror and with her braids gathered over one shoulder, he has to lean in and kiss the spot she wanted drawn. And then a little lower, and a little lower yet, as she threads her fingers into his hair to guide him.

They have to redraw each other's brush lines after; it is too smudged to see.

--------

"Clever and foolish", Drakon says when he sees the mask, "as are all good ideas."

It is half green silk, half charcoal on red. The Dales and the Inquisition. Unlike the ciriane's animal heads, elaborate shapes and faces covered in fish scales, it's simple; just a plain mask like what the servants wear, though with richer materials.

Both halves of the mask are covered in lilac lines. His vallaslin, painted on top of the mask to never be hidden. Ameridan knows the real reason some lords and ladies have demanded stricter rules when it comes to the wearing of masks. It isn't common decency. It isn't respecting ciriane tradition. It isn't following established rules of Drakon's court. It is the vallaslin which marks him as a follower of someone other than the Maker.

"I will miss seeing you", Drakon continues, as he threads the ribbons through Ameridan's greying braids and ties them at the back of his head. "The last bare face in a sea of masks."

"But that will make it sweeter when you get to take it off."

"Yes." Through the draconic slits in his scaled mask, Drakon's eyes are sad. "And unlike the others, you will be yourself underneath it. Whatever you wear, whatever it means to someone else."

-------

The elves of this age have lost their homeland, their temples and their knights, but they still have their vallaslin. It is something.

-------

Asharen's face is bare. He can see her sorrow from a mile away, reluctant as she is to speak of it, and her face is bare. He wants to ask her why, not why would she do it but why did she feel like she had to.

But he doesn't; instead he offers his shoulder if she needs it.

---------

Slave markings. He sits in his room in the quarters found for the Inquisition's stay in Halamshiral, staring into the mirror with its gilt frame, at the owl of Dirthamen with its wings spread in flight. He locks the door and pulls the curtains and takes his clothes off one garment at a time, revealing the lines continuing down his throat and across his chest and back, down his arms and legs, fading to nothing at the backs of his hands.

Slave markings.

He remembers his father holding his hand while he lay on the floor of the temple, his mother kissing his brow just above the owl's head.

He remembers he and Telana taking turns to wash each other's newly made vallaslin, work a salve into the tender skin and kiss the places where it hurt the most.

He remembers the pain, hours lying on the temple floor and thinking it was good, it was meant to be like this, the Creators wanted it so and who were they to question it?

He remembers the pride.

Slave markings.

--------

He looks at Asharen's bare face and it's she who offers her shoulder, though she has only one arm to put around him.

---------

Some days he's proud to wear it; it's a reminder not of what they lost but what they gained, a new history, new traditions, new memories. They are more than their past; they are present and future too.

Some days he pulls the sleeves down over his hands and avoids reflective surfaces.

The vallaslin remains because he has no means of removing it, and so he never has to decide. So maybe he never makes a decision. Maybe he never comes to a conclusion. Maybe if he was ever presented with the option, he would not know what to say.

But he always remembers his father's hand, his mother's kiss, he always remembers Telana.

You will be yourself. Whatever you wear, whatever it means to someone else.

[korechthonia]

This probably counts as a cursed thought but my brain went what if Tortall omegaverse and anyway...

Kel is an Alpha. Like, she starts as a page unpresented because they all do, and so everyone is all focused on her being a girl, and like, all the primary gender stuff is like canon.

And non-magic users are usually betas and magic users are usually alphas or omegas, so like, no one thinks much about secondary dynamics in that regard because it's obvious.

Except usually is not always. And a few people suspect, because she is such a good leader and protective, (not Kel, of course) but no one knows until she presents.

And then, like, she's still a girl, there's still loads of people who say she shouldn't be a page, a squire, a knight, but some of them simmer down because alpha knights are highly respected. Mostly just a wait-and-see kind of quiet, not actually believing in her.

Kel is Kel and largely oblivious to all of this, just trying to be a good person, and Raoul takes her on as squire because he sees her leadership qualities and whether they are dynamic related or just Kel is irrelevant, they deserve to be nurtured.

(Neal is an omega, as is Alanna. This makes them an unconventional knight/squire pair but also an awesome one I would happily read about their adventures (although that's also true in canon). Jon is an Alpha, Daine is an alpha, Numair is an omega, Thayet and Raoul and Dom are betas. George is an alpha. (Please imagine George and Jonathan snarling at each other but also immense respect because both leaders of their respective domains. ) )

(I am imagining the general attitude of tortall to be male alpha > male omega > male beta ~= female alpha > female omega > female beta. but nobility/class is an even more important axis, so that's not like, absolute.)

And then Kel is knighted and given command of Haven and actually I am not sure this changes all that much really. She's still her determined protective self and claims all the residents and animals as Hers and in need of protection and really the real test is versus the male alphas but like... she is a stronger alpha at holding the respect of basically everyone and can stand up to King Jonathan and like - she will back down, but that's not dynamics related that's he's the king, and there's basically no one else she would back down to. The weak and small and hurt and poor are Hers and she will fight for them. ... she doesn't want to beat King Jonathan, that would just distract her from what really matters.

Um... and actually that's not cursed at all, that's just dialing things up a notch.

[yuri-is-online]

Your fantasy AU sounds fun… Do you have any other thoughts?

Mostly just world building if I'm being honest. The real spicy thoughts could count as spoilers so I'll try to put some fun things first before the building block stuff.

Yuu has a lot of physical damage on their body, and a pendant they're extremely protective of but don't remember why. I had a specific idea for that pendant was in the first outline but since I'm not 100% on this being a JadeYuu fic anymore I'm keeping it vague.

Yuu has some vague memories of being in a coma and several people talking to them, but they don't know who they were or what they talked about. It really hurts their head to think about, but they truly trust Idia and aren't afraid of him or Ortho. Somehow they know neither of them are responsible for what happened... or maybe they just don't blame them?

Idia is the one who brought Yuu to his and Ortho's house, but not everyone who should knows that they're there. Ortho doesn't know how Idia knew where to find them and has decided to not ask questions.

Ramshackle Party currently consists of Ace, Deuce, Yuu, and Ortho! Jack, Epel, and Sebek might join later but I'm undecided if they'll be permanent or temporary members. Ace is meant to be a rogue, Deuce used to be a barbarian who has been training under Trey to try and be a proper knight, Ortho is an alchemist, and Yuu is a mechanist a la FFXIV. Or gunslinger if you prefer that. Grim still follows them around and insists he's a great mage but his magic is... well you know.

Oh and Jack is a druid, Epel is an unwilling palidan/squire, and Sebek is also a palidan sworn to the oath of the crown.

Speaking of Trey, he and Riddle are influential members of the Queendom's royal guard, with Riddle being the Commander and Trey being his Second. Cater used to be a freelance information broker who has settled in the Rose Court as the chief of it's spy network, but he's publicly known as a semi famous bard. Neither Ace or Deuce know his real job ha.

Speaking of information brokers, Azul is still a merchant. He doesn't have a monopoly on physical goods since Sam is still here, but his information services can't be beat. He's actively involved in mapping the labrynth floors and has a lot of pull within the Adventure's guild. The twins still work with him but Floyd like to run off and explore the labrynth on his own for funsies sometimes.

Leona is actually a fairly influential politician in this AU, he's lacking the color scheme but he's in his Duke of the North era. He's known for being the first real adventurer in the labrynth, but how that came to happen, and all of his current personal life, are unknown to the general public. He sends Ruggie to bother Idia a lot.

No one knows how many floors the labrynth has, the S.T.Y.X. keeps detailed track of the known floors and assigns them a difficulty ranking based on things like terrain, monsters, weather etc. The Charon units are stationed at all known entrances to check if people trying to enter have the proper adventurer rank and to keep an eye out for dead mages.

Speaking of that, only mages can be resurrected if they die in the labrynth. Magicless people do occasionally venture in, but usually as merchants and never past floor 10.

The Adventure's Guild has a ranking system that determines how deep into the labrynth you're allowed go. Idia is an Obsidian ranked adventure, which prevents him from forming a party with Ortho who is only Bronze rank. Idia's party he gained that rank with has since disbanded, which makes things annoying for him as adventures are required to form a party with a minimum of four people before adventuring. Ortho has only really met one of Idia's previous party members, but he looks up to him a lot. Idia never talks about the other ones.

I have an idea for what I want to do with Malleus but it's a bit... weird? And I'm not 100% sold on it yet. I need to think more. But I know Briar Valley doesn't have much of a presence in the Labrynth or it's nearby town as they have been able to prevent it from spreading into it's territory. Silver and Sebek do occasionally participate in some of the exploration of the lower levels S.T.Y.X does though.

[goodnight-goodknight]

The triumph of her kill faded the moment she knelt, fist raised, gripping the severed head by its matted hair.  Its anguished expression, features smeared with tar and blood, was an offering to Lord Gwyn – a gift of finality, an order executed.  Only when dismissed from his sun-blessed presence did Ciaran allow herself to falter, each step growing heavier as she retreated down the marble hallways.  Death clung to her, festering beneath her nails, creeping beneath her armour to dress the puncture wound in her abdomen.  It pulsed – dull and insistent, gnawing at her with blunt teeth, complaining of its neglect.

Inside her chambers, she shed many of her layers, starting with the moon-pale porcelain mask.  Half-undressed, she removed the hastily applied compress and pressed a fresh, wet cloth to the wound’s livid, leaking lips.  Her other hand masterfully poured a generous goblet of wine, as red as the blood that trailed over her hip in crimson rivulets.  She needed stitches, a bath, and sleep.

A sharp knock at the door broke her fragile promise of peace, and Ciaran’s felt a flare of irritation.  Who dared disturb her now?  Surely, Lord Gwyn did not expect her return at this unholy hour.  Her expression was impassive as she swung open the door – damp, defiant – though her amber eyes burned like dragon-fire.

Artorias.

Her bristling demeanour softened, thawing at the sight of him.  Annoyance faded, replaced by a warmth reserved only for him.

“Typical wolf,” she muttered, her voice laced with affection.  “Drawn to the scent of blood.”

A brief pause, then a small, immeasurably rare smile.

“It is good to see you.  Come in.”

Artorias' expression shifts rapidly: the bright smile of seeing her face, the confused frown at her comment about blood, and then dawning horror as he spots the wound in her side. He's wise enough not to try and parent her - that would get his ears boxed if she had any life left in her at all, he was certain - but he quickly accepts her request, and brushes past her into the room.

"Looks like someone snuck past your defenses, dear hornet," he says, quietly. He is already searching her quarters for a needle and thread, fully prepared to help with the dispassionate and necessary work of stitching her side shut. "I do hope they paid for the troubles already, lest I extract it from their bloody hide."

Artorias is, by nature, a gentle and kind man. One would not know it from the lupine snarl that quivers across his face for an instant - where she reserves her affection solely for him, there is a ferocity in her knight that only emerges when she is threatened. Gwyn himself did not command the kind of loyalty Ciaran prompted in Artorias.

It wasn't simply that Artorias would die for her; that was easy. Artorias would die for anybody. Artorias would, given half a chance, fling himself into certain doom if it meant a squire made it back over the battlement in time. But it took something special, something precious, to make him kill - to overwrite that gentle nature and give him over to the vicious, warful creature just beneath.

Judging by his temporary expression as he informs her of her attacker's impending peril, should said attacker not already be delivered by skull to Gwyn's feet, Ciaran was precious to him indeed.

The expression fades as he comes back to himself after a moment, and he coughs sheepishly.

"Sorry - the bravado is likely unnecessary, I doubt anyone could escape your clutches," he says. "Can I help you with your injury? Please?"

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #77: Rhaegar Wins, but make it Indigo Montoya

One of the things I think is not addressed enough in Rhaegar Wins AUs is the fact that, for a fair portion of the Seven Kingdoms, the narrative of Robert's Rebellion reads: the crown prince of Westeros kidnapped the daughter of a Great House, raped her, and gained a crown for it. Which is not a flattering picture of a ruler, no matter how much PR he spins about Lyanna wanting be kidnapped.

Or: What if Jon Snow, raised as his uncle's bastard, grew up wanting to take revenge for his aunt's rape and murder?

Aka: The Jon the Just Fic

Just imagine it:

Rhaegar wins the Battle of the Trident, slaying Robert Baratheon in single combat. He takes his army and the remnants of the rebel forces willing to bend the knee to King's Landing, where he forces his father to step down. The Mad King is imprisoned in Dragonstone and dies shortly thereafter under circumstances that aren't nearly as mysterious as later historians claim.

Newly crowned King Rhaegar sends a pardoned Ned Stark to retrieve Lyanna from the Tower of Joy... but after Lyanna dies in childbirth, Ned disguises her son as his own and tells the new king both died in childbed.

Jon's childhood follows canon closely, albeit perhaps with a more melancholy air. He grows up hearing the story of how the man that is now king kidnapped and raped Lyanna before leaving her to die, and rages. His aunt deserves justice for what happened to her and any other man would have been sent to the Wall for his crimes - and this coming on the heels of what Aerys II did to his uncle and grandfather.

And so Jon, from a young age, decides that if the world won't give his aunt justice, he'll get it for her.

This decision is only made stronger when, circa 293 AC, he overhears Ned and Benjen arguing in the catacombs over the former's choice to keep Jon's true parentage from him.

And so when the royal court comes north as part of a grand tour of Westeros circa 295 AC, Jon convinces Arthur Dayne to take him on as squire, quite against the wishes of his uncle Ned.

For the next 15 years Jon plots. He very quickly becomes the best knight of his generation through sheer dedication to the art. He learns to wield every weapon he can, preferring the bastard sword but more than capable with a pair of knives, and wins his first tourney before he's even knighted. And though he can sing and dance with he best of them, he has little care for them - he'd much rather be in in the practice yard.

In short: he appears to be a single-minded warrior whom many in the court consider quite dull, but who is more than worthy of being named Kingsguard circa 305 AC - and appears next in line to be its Lord Commander.

By 310 AC, Jon has not only gained the confidence of his fellow Kingsguard to guard the king alone, he’s learned everything there is to know about Lyanna's abduction. Armed with this knowledge, he finally - finally - takes his revenge.

He slays King Rhaegar in his sleep, not bothering to wake the man to let him know why he is being killed - he doesn't deserve the consideration. Jon then continues to stand watch outside the door until shift change, then goes back to the White Tower and kills Gerold Hightower, Oswell Whent, and Arthur Dayne for helping to kidnap and imprison his mother. His task done, Jon cleans his weapons, and goes to the Godswood to wait.

Aegon and the remaining Kingsguard find him in the Godswood when the sun is high in the sky. They expect a confrontation. They do not expect to see Jon sitting with his back against the tree, waiting for them.

It's an even bigger shock when Aegon demands to know why Jon - who he'd considered a friend all these years - had done such a thing. "He kidnapped my mother," Jon says. "He kidnapped her and raped her and left her to die in the desert far from home. Any other man would have been sent to the Wall. Instead he gained a crown and used it to tell the world she wanted it. Such a man does not deserve to be king."

A trial follows. It should be the most sensational trial the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen - not descending into the level of farce, but used as a vehicle for all the problems Westeros has faced since the Conquest. Though some chose sides based on who they think is right, most split along existing political lines that mirror Robert's Rebellion and the War of Five Kings.

Jon had fully expected to be put to death for regicide, but after all the evidence is given the judges are gridlocked. They're forced to declare trial by combat - which Jon, being the best swordsman of his generation, wins handedly. He's free - if no longer a member of the Kingsguard.

He is, in fact, now King Aegon VI's heir after Aegon's only son, Daeron - Rhaegar always having claimed Lyanna as his second wife. The crown cannot claim otherwise without calling into question how willing Lyanna's abduction was.

Things come to a head when a group of Aegon's supporters get into a drunken altercation with a group of Jon's supporters on the streets of King's Landing. Several are killed - including a handful of well-connected heirs on either side.

War breaks out.

Jon very quickly finds himself at the head of an army for a crown he doesn't want - he had, in fact, been saying his goodbyes to his uncle and cousins in Winterfell before planning to take the Black, when the lords of the North declare him the rightful King of Westeros. In the end Robb convinces him to fight - not for the throne, but for all the people Targaryen rule has hurt who were unable to seek justice.

Both sides are evenly matched. The battles which rage are destructive but ultimately fruitless, with neither side able to gain significant advantage over the other.

Jon and Aegon VI finally meet in battle at the Trident, in almost the exact place where Robert and Rhaegar met in single combat. They fight and though Jon ultimately carries the day, he dies of his wounds before the night is out.

Back in King's Landing, Aegon VI's ten-year-old son is very quickly crowned Daeron III. Perhaps in an ideal world his mother, the beloved Queen Daenerys, and his regency council would have been able to restore order - but both are soon deposed by Viserys III, who, seeing weakness, seizes power for himself.

Viserys, proving himself to be every bit as cruel, vain, and greedy here as in canon, sets out to punish those who rebelled against the crown - to some success, having a staunch ally in Twyin Lannister, whose daughter Cersei he married after his first wife, Princess Rhaenys, died in childbirth some years earlier.

But eventually this cruelty proves too much, and soon Viserys is being called a second Maegor - and this time there is no rival claimant to the throne. Viserys has no children, no living nieces or nephews or siblings, and most everyone else with a drop of Targaryen blood has been killed in the Rebellions or the Reprisals. To find an alternative heir one has to look to the descendants of Maron Martell or Elaena Targaryen, so far removed as not to count.

And so the Great Houses of Westeros form a Quintuple Alliance - Houses Lannister and Greyjoy not being included for obvious reasons, and House Baratheon having been killed off and replaced by a Targaryen loyalist - that eventually manages to depose Viserys. Then they order the Iron Throne destroyed and dissolve the Seven Kingdoms, ending the Targaryen Dynasty once an for all.

Bonuses include: 1) Ned never realizing that Jon was aware of his true parentage until he's summoned to court to watch Jon stand trial for killing King Rhaegar and three brother Kingsguard. He should be torn between pleasure that Lyanna finally has her justice and anger that Jon has disgraced his vows this way - and eventually dies in Viserys' Reprisals without having decided how to feel about his nephew; 2) The ultimate bromance between Jon and Aegon as they grow from squires to knights together. It should be a true and honest friendship only slightly marred by Jon's knowledge of what his plans will do to his half-brother, and should make Jon's apparent betrayal all the worse for Aegon; and 3) The simmering pot of Westerosi politics scarcely needing an excuse to boil over. House Targaryen built an empire on the backs of dragons - and never learned how to keep it after losing them. The breakup of the Seven Kingdoms should be seen as both inevitable (to the reader) and unthinkable (to the characters).

And that's it. That's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back if you do anything with it.

More GOT Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

[yael-art-den]

(1/2) Karim backstory. Idk when I'll continue writing this summary but this is all pre-Fort Joy and a bit post

First things first: noble family, elven mother & human father, both VERY notable Source sorcerers. Mom left the veneration of the Elder Trees (unfortunately elves in the setting are Like That) to join human society in the form of Investigation and Development of the Arcane (for war. It was for war), which in a kingdom that's at war every two plot beats against Multidimensional Threats, turns out to be a very profitable endeavor. They're new money, but as long as they can keep working with the Order for a couple more generations, it will secure their lineage a very comfortable spot.

Sorcery is not fully inherited, but it is fairly common as long as it's nurtured properly, and everything works out for the firstborn and secondborn (Karin's older brothers). Sister turns out fine, she's not a natural like the first one or can learn her way into getting magic like the second one, but it hits right before being a pre-teen. She's just a bit more artsy about her magic, whatever. The two elders got engaged extremely quickly to strengthen political bonds between houses, she can get to be the "artistic, creative soul" as long as you quit that shit after a few years and get a political marriage soon. Chop chop!

Then Karim comes into the picture. The youngest. Doesn't show any signs of sorcery early on, but that's okay, he can learn how to- oh you are not good at studying? And unable to perform basic spells? Well, I'm sure it will awaken soon. You MUST be doing something wrong. Everyone is Getting It very early on, so there must be something wrong with you, in particular. Why are you like that? Are you doing it wrong on purpose?

Early teenage years hit and he's still Source-less. He has never been treated badly, but there is this non-spoken known secret around him that he's not an equal. To make up for this shame, he needs to be Perfect in everything else (behavior, manners, studies) because it's BAD enough that your mom has to make excuses for you about why you haven't Awoken yet, he cannot make it worse. No one forces him to do this, but it gives him a slight hint of hope, of control. If he works hard enough, sacrifices enough, he will get there.

He doesn't.

He's the youngest, he cannot be married off yet, so his family's best option for him is to join the military and get status that way. He doesn't join as a private, of course, but as a paladin squire to start working upwards. Of course he's a sorcerer, but his call is for the Divine Order and to become a knight. So his family gets both an excuse for his Source-less behavior AND get the unmarriable kid sent away. Win-win.

Military life WAS an improvement tho. There was something soothing about knowing exactly what to do, how to do it, who was in command and what was being asked of you. At this point Karim is already a master of "i cannot be left alone with my thoughts I need to Always Do Stuff", and there was always something to be done. Mantras to be repeated while on watch so he wouldn't have to take a single look inside himself.

He was to be treated as this almost saint-like figure, a Sorcerer, of course, but someone who refused to use his powers for the sanctity of Knighthood. He was never a particularly bellicose person, and he tried to shape his paladin persona into more of a War Medic role, whose healing powers helped the real, actual medicine he knew.

This was his place, or the closest thing he had ever felt to belonging somewhere. He was loved (for something he didn't do), and respected (for a persona that he wasn't) but his near-null introspective meant that this was enough for him.

Be content, and be grateful. Be admired, but never understood. And above all, be useful.

When the Magister reform hit and all non-humans were removed from their positions at the Order, he was spared because his family pulled some strings and "well he's just HALF elf. He doesn't look Like That©. And he has a beard!" but it doesn't mean that the new racist policies didn't hit him hard. The only reasonable option in his mind was to work harder, to prove he deserved his spot to people who wanted to see him gone. It's okay, if only he's a good enough boy he will be fine!!!!

THEN the order to render all magic illegal and send sorcerers to Fort Joy is sent. His family is in grave danger, but like it happens inside the game, a lot of bad situations can be made easier with money. They bribe their way into hiding, but letting them ALL go would be obvious, plus the Magisters need reassurance that they won't turn on them once they're safely out of the city. And so, without his knowledge or consent, Karim gets used as a bargain chip.

The only thing he gets told is that he is to be sent to the Fort as a prisoner to keep his family safe, so they don't have to go. He will be fine, he isn't a sorcerer after all, it's just bureaucracy. He just needs to go through whatever cure they're administering and then come back, good as new!

He, of course, goes with it. Even when he discovers that that place WILL be his grave and he got sent there to die, he still wanted to stay. To be martyrd and to finally deserve love, even in death. He helped the party escape and they, in return, pretty much forced him to go with them (so this dumbass didnt DIE)

He still has a long way to go. He's now an actual sorcerer and Godwoken, so more outside pressure on him to perform his role, yippeee... But having a group of people who genuinely like him for himself and don't want anything in return is helping

[magic-is-something-we-create]

LAKIA K'RON - The Millennium Saga [Firebreathers ; Echoseers ; Goddess-Touched]

[Lakia's] gaze falls back to the coals, her head ducking just enough for the shadows to hide her expression. In the low light, the scarring on her face looks almost like magma. “Not much to tell,” she finally says, bitterness caking her tongue. “[Actaea] broke my spine before I had a chance to feel any of it, and twisted the knife anyway. Not a great way to wake up, that.” Guilt punches any lingering curiosity from my mind swifter than I can take a breath. For asking, for thinking, for not giving her an easy way out. I can’t find a single thing to say other than a weak, “I’m sorry.” She scoffs, meets my eyes. “You know, first time I ever heard her say that was after I got back up.” Her unscarred lips twist into a smirk that only ignites the anger behind her eyes. “Too bad the part of me that would’ve forgiven her was the one that stayed dead.”

Basics:

She/her - Cis girl Demiromantic Lesbian - 18 [~20 on Earth] Rill Ehlf - Plant Mage Dyslexic; ADHD- an CPTSD-coded.

Where she begins:

We first meet Lakia when she declares that she's commandeered her father's ship while he was away, demoting him to second mate and promoting Isa to first. That playful moment is over quickly, however, when she meets the rest of the party and immediately resorts to insults and vulgarities that only barely veil her awkwardness in the face of peers.

For a while, Ember assumes that's all she is: a vaguely abrasive, awkward girl with some anger issues and dreams of glory.

And then they see her in battle, and it chills them to their core.

She sinks a ship with a kelp-made kraken. She leaps into the fray with vicious glee instead of the desperation of the others. She kills without flinching, and she's still a child.

Soon, they realize that glory is not her dream.

Vengeance is.

What she finds herself confronting:

Her hatred for Actaea has only managed to strengthen in the months since she stole away from Impalfahr in the dead of night to follow her brother and father in exile. And though she fears her grandmother as any sane person should, eventually, her slights against family and the world at large become too large for Lakia to care about that fear anymore.

And if no one else is willing to deal with the impossible problem, well, she's already done the impossible twice.

She'll find a way to do it again.

And the stories they tell of her will be incredible.

Important connections:

Family: K'Ron Actaea (grandmother), Elar (father) and Isa. Rillmother Veratrum (32nd generation).

Friends: Lu'Syr Typha (she wants to be a Whiptail Knight like him, someday); eventually Dusk Timber, Quartz, Slate, and Iggy Meywin.

Rival: K'Syr Dawn (for taking her place as Lu'Syr Typha's squire)

Enemies: K'Ron Actaea (she wants Actaea dead more than anyone alive), Tieling of Nimia (for never noticing what Actaea did to them), every single person who helped Actaea (she has a list)

MUSIC

Themes - El Dorado by Thomas Bergersen and Two Steps From Hell, Hymn of the High Seas by Antti Martikainen, Iron Fable by Pauli Hausmann

Vibes - There Was Time by Koethe, Warbringer by TheFatRat, Everen Maxwell, and Lindsey Stirling, parents by YUNGBLUD

[possiblylando]

My hopes for the fallout TV show are not high.

Enough time has passed for me to talk about this in full since my thoughts have had time to solidify. As you probably know images (w/ descriptions) for the fallout tv show and the trailer itself released a few days ago. So I'll start with the good because this is primarily going to be a doompost rant afterwards. 1. The Sets, Costumes, Make-up, Props, Atmosphere, All of it is AMAZING. it looks GREAT. If the only metric to judge this on were those alone then this would be an easy 8/10-10/10. 2. I like the music used it fits fallout and its cool in the trailer. 3. theres a dogmeat in it thats cool theres always gotta be one of those its tradition 4. They thankfully seem to be doing away with the fallout 4 "trapped in the 50s" garbage they went with judging off the footage of the bombs dropping they showed.

And thats about it for my praises. Because this looks like it's going to be a lore dumpster fire. So lets start with the issues 1. This takes place in LA, California. You must be aware what other fallout properties all took place in that general sort of area.

and from those games theres a very important faction completely absent from these trailers. The NCR is completely fucking missing. I have had no luck finding any traces of them despite the fact people have posted pictures of their flag in the background of some shots I can not find it. The fact the NCR is just gone is a very bad sign. Maybe if I'm to be optimistic the reason is because they want to attract fallout 4 fans so they just showed the stuff from that game? 2. The Brotherhood of Steel. They just should not be on the west coast. They're an east coast faction with their remnants in the west being weak and scattered. They should not have an entire armed paramilitary force at the ready with somehow a second prydwin and I know it isn't the prydwin from fo4 its like some sister ship that happens to look exactly the same somehow. Which is a whole other can of worms because iirc they made the prydwin out of the remains of the enclave mobile base they sieged in the fo3 post game. 2b. The Brotherhood seems to be breaking their very own rules and lore. Now I want you to look at this image;

Off the bat nothing seems wrong with it, right? That guy in all black is a squire. Accompanying a knight. If they're just apart of a group then fine but these two ranks should not be put together if the squire is working under the knight. The brotherhood's entire chain of command is EXTREMELY important with the only times its ever broken are exceptions for the player themselves. Incase you're a normal person who just blew up their bunker in nv; The Brotherhood's chain of command is basically: "You can only command those one rank directly below you and only take orders from someone directly above you." So the elder can only command paladins and paladins only command knights ect. This is so important you can get exiled for breaking this rule. 3. Mutant Overseer in a control vault.

I doubt I need to explain why this makes no sense. 4. This is JUST megaton. Why is it in LA?

It could turn out to be really good but it seems like they only played fallout 4 and maybe skimmed a wiki cause there seem to be quite a few contradictions to the main franchise especially since this isn't an AU, this is CANON to the mainline universe.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

The Favour

Pairing: Eönwë x Fem. Reader (Elf | Second Person POV)

Themes: Medieval! Ainur | Violence | Soft ending

Warnings: Violence | Mentions of blood and death | Use of weapons | kissing / mild smut (lime, I think) | Alcohol use 

Wordcount: 3.1k words

Summary: During the final day of the tourney, Eönwë approaches you, his servant, with a request that shocks everyone.

Rating: 🔥(brief paragraph) | Minors DNI | 18+

Rules and tag form here.  

The final day of the tourney dawned as it should: glorious and golden and windy and bright.

The tourney grounds were a sea of silken tents and shields and horses, knights in brilliantly plated armor, and squires running around to do their masters’ bidding. Pennants and flags snapped and fluttered with the wind. The air rang with the sounds of shouts and curses and laughter, hammers striking steel and iron, and it soon grew rich with the scents of bread and mead and meat roasting over braziers.

The royal box was already full. Everyone had been garbed in the most splendid robes and jewels. The king was present, as was the prince. Both were dressed in doublets of black and green studded with a double row of golden flames. Eru wore a crown of gold and emeralds and onyx, and his son wore none. He could not wear one until he was anointed under the light of the stars. Prince Manwë did not seem to mind. He spoke to the others, made jests, and put his name down for a wager.

What a wager it was. The king himself pledged the finest horse in his herd and an opportunity to hunt in the royal forests; a courtier pledged a fat purse of gold coin, and a lady threw in her emerald ring. Many and more threw their names into the pot, and the wager grew and grew. The sheer value was staggering. It was to be expected. The Lord Commander himself was jousting.

The Lord Commander. The Lord Commander, Eönwë Úrion. He commanded the king’s armies and was the fiercest soldier to have ever lived and breathed. A warrior without peer, so the singers said. No one could stand before him.

No one knew much of him besides his skills and prowess in battle either. Eönwë kept to himself. A disciplined man, he would start his day by breaking his fast with a simple meal before heading off to the armory to arm and armor himself. After morning rounds around Ilmarin, he would spend most of his day training himself and others and meeting with the king. He would see himself off to the baths before settling in his private library by evenfall if there were no pressing matters. Even his supper was a quiet affair. You would know; you served him yourself.

You left your mother and brother after the town crier came to the market square and shouted that the palace was looking for new maids. The coin proved too much to resist, and your family needed it. Your brother had been injured in a hunting accident, and your father left one day, never to return. Your family was left destitute. The work would be hard but the king was known to many as a fair and generous master to those who served him well. Leaving your family and the life you knew was a struggle, but it had to be done. A turn of the moon after your arrival, the Lord Commander had seen you and had asked you to serve him instead. A strange request was what it was, but you did not mind. Seeing just him was an easier task. Not having to be at the beck and call of every courtier at the palace was a pleasant prospect. The Lord Commander asked for little and barely spoke in the beginning. Then he slowly loosened his tongue.

He would ask after you, and your family. He would even laugh if you said something amusing. The moment you walked through the door and he caught sight of you, his eyes would light up. They would also follow you everywhere. 

You did not notice at first, but you felt it. A strange but pleasant prickling sensation crawled up your spine whenever your back was turned. When you turned, Eönwë would be looking somewhere else. It felt like he was not looking at all. But his cheeks… they always bore the tell-tale sign of a blush. Sometimes, his fingers would brush against yours before he locked eyes with you. He would look at you, his very gaze softening, and open his mouth to say something. Then he seemed to think better of it before looking the other way.  

It frightened you. And it flattered you. Eönwë was a kind man, one who treated you with nothing but the utmost courtesy. You soon looked forward to seeing him and talking with him, even helping him with his tasks. His touch, no matter how light or tender, would soon set your heart racing. His smile was enough to make your skin tingle. Slowly, he would find his way into your dreams. They were all sweet and beautiful dreams, filled with promises and magic. Come morning, those dreams would give way to the cold light of day and harshness of reality.

Eönwë would never go beyond brief touches and tender smiles. He was the Lord Commander, and a senior courtier besides. Courtship and marriage were matters of state for those such as him. The king had to approve of his choice, and you knew the king would never approve. You were a servant and lowborn. Eru would never bless such a union; he would expect his general to wed a lady of the highest birth. Any dream you may have had of Eönwë courting you and even marrying you would have to remain just that. A dream. Nothing more.

And now you were here, in the royal box, serving everyone. Of food there was aplenty. Guests of the royal family and the court helped themselves to figs and cheese and the finest berries of the season, and later, delicate pastries, pies, herbed sausages, and roasted corn. There were flagons of beer and flagons of ale and pitchers of cool water for those who had a thirst. You stood to one side after you had served and watched while scores of heroes and warriors rode before the king. Eönwë stood out in plated armor inlaid with golden swirls, and little sapphires and emeralds. He was a vision, tall and proud and fierce, every maiden’s dream made flesh. And his eyes only sought yours.

Eönwë had dreamed of you. He dreamed of you often, and every night. He would see himself chasing you through the empty halls and corridors of Ilmarin, always missing you by mere moments. Your laughter would ring out like a song. "Find me," you would say, and taunt him, and run away from him in a swirl of silk and ribbons. "I am here," you would say again, and then you would call out from somewhere else and say, "No. I am here. Here I am, my lord."

The game you played with him, one of cat and mouse, was both maddening and exhilarating. By the time he caught you, he was out of breath. You would whisper sweet endearments to him while he carried you to his chambers. Your laughter slowly turned to soft moans while he kissed you and lost himself in your flesh. He would grow drunk on your scent and sigh when his cheek brushed against the wisps of your hair. Your nails would rake down his back when you cried out his name. His name. Just his. The very thought of it was enough to send shivers down his spine.

Eönwë was certain he was dreaming now. He glanced up at you, hiding in the shadows, the wind sweeping through stray locks of your hair. Every high-born lady had her gaze fixed on him, but he did not see them. All he saw was you. 

Mercy, she is lovely, he thought. And he knew he had kept his true feelings towards you hidden for too long. Today, he said to himself. Everything will depend on today.

He shook his head when the Master of Revels came forth and a blare of trumpets sounded. The first tilts were announced, and riders went to take their places.

The rest of the day passed with warhorses snorting and charging down the lists, silks of red and green and silver and blue and every other color imaginable swirling around their saddles. Their charge would end in the splintering of wood and riders struck and unhorsed, and worse. More than one knight had to be carried off in a stretcher. Some would cough up blood. Those unfortunate few would never open their eyes at all.

Lord Tulkas was one of the riders who distinguished themselves. He rode brilliantly. His armor had been chased in silver and gold, and a golden bear reared on the crest of his helm. It glinted whenever it caught the sunlight. He first unhorsed Sir Tilion of House Archer, striking him with such force that he flew off his saddle and landed on the flat of his back with an awful clangor. The gasps from the crowd were loud, and the cheers that followed were louder still when Tilion rose to his feet and removed his helm to show that he was unharmed. He grinned wickedly and winked at a lady before walking off with his squire.

"Good thing it was not his Lord," Eru mumbled to his son. You were close enough to hear. "Oromë has a most wretched temper, I hear."

You kept your attention straight ahead, looking away only when called to serve. Eru called you and asked for something cold to drink. You made your way around lords and ladies and servants alike, only to slowly sneak into the ice cellar and find something you knew the king would like.

"Ah. Iced lemon water with honey?" Eru whispered, his silvery eyes lighting up with barely disguised glee when you returned. 

"The last of it, your grace," you whisper in reply before pouring a cup for him.

Eru accepted the cup with an eager hand. "My gratitude." He drank deeply and sighed in contentment. "Tell me, y/n, how long have you been working in the palace?"

You looked at him, shocked. The king knew you by name. "For… for almost a year now, your grace," you replied quickly after remembering your courtesies. 

Eru smiled. "And your family?" 

"Just my mother and brother, your grace," you told him. "My father left us one day. No one has heard a word from him since then."

"Is your brother employed?" The king inquired. "Does he have a trade?" 

"He helps my mother with the animals and her weaving, your grace. My brother is crippled, you see," you confided. "A hunting accident. He went after a boar and it gored his leg before it finally died."

It was strange that the king asked you such questions about your family. The others were straining their necks to listen, thinking the exchange would make choice gossip. It made you uncomfortable. Eru saw it. He turned and gave the rest such a look they withered into their seats. 

"Ignore that lot," he advised, not unkindly, and held up his cup. "And thank you for this."

You smiled and dipped into a deep curtsy before melting into the shadows. 

The jousts went on. Lord Tulkas went on to unhorse both Salmar of House Alqualondë and Arien of House Starfield, before losing a hard-fought match against one of his own, the lady Meássë. 

“Lady Meássë of House Shield!” The Master of Revels called. “Sir Makar, also of House Shield!”

Someone started another wager. This time it was to decide if Meássë or her twin, Makar, would win. Everyone talked in excited voices. The twins had never ridden against each other before. 

They took their places, their inky black chargers pawing at the earth. The twins were clad in armor enameled in the color of blood. Wisps of auburn hair could be seen beneath their helms. That was where the similarities ended. Makar was burly; his twin slender and lithe. Her helm bore a crouching lioness, his none. When the trumpets sounded they rode, the crowds crying out in unison. Their horses met in the center in a crash of wood against steel. It was a draw. They charged against each other a second time, then a third, evenly matched, before Meássë finally struck good fortune and her brother fell to the dirt. Makar, furious, removed his helm and hurled it into the crowd. Someone was nearly struck in the head. They shouted at him. Makar shouted back. His curses carried around the gallery. The jeers were loud. His twin laughed, and it enraged him. He would have done more had his lord not walked into the field and pointed to the king.

Makar stood to attention, his entire body tense. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles slowly turned white. He refused to leave, when custom demanded he do so. Finally, Lord Tulkas had to grab Makar by the arm and drag him away after giving an apologetic look at the king. Meássë followed, snickering to herself.

"Looks like Lord Oromë is not the only one with a temper," Prince Manwë observed. "What are you going to do, father?"

"Leave him be for now," Eru replied. "He has already made a fool of himself. That should serve for the present."

The next match was just as anticipated as the match between the twins. 

“Sir Ossë, freerider in the service of House Alqualondë!” Came the Master of Revels cry. “Against Lord Commander Eönwë Úrion of House Ilúvatar!”

All the ladies spoke in hushed, excited tones. As an unwed lord, Eönwë could ask a favor from any unwed lady he wished. You observed discretely how they fiddled with brooches and rings and wreaths. Eönwë removed his helm and rode slowly around the gallery before stopping beneath the royal box. His dark hair had been pulled into a neat braid for the jousts. The other ladies sat up straight and smiled brightly, thinking he would address them, and them alone. The Lord Commander let his eyes skim over the crowd before they found you, keeping to the shadows as always.

“My lady y/n," he addressed you directly. "I was hoping to ask for your favor."

The entire gallery went silent. You stood where you were, struck dumb by the request. The other ladies turned to look, not all of them kind. Eönwë kept looking at you, fear and hope warring in his eyes. 

His throat had tightened when he rode over to the royal box and found you still standing there, a glass pitcher in hand. What he was about to do was unheard of. Eönwë would not just be asking for your favor; he was hoping to court and wed you, a servant no less. The revelation would unleash quite the scandal at court, and he would have to take you away to wait out the storm. Eönwë considered the storm worth it, but everything hinged on your answer. 

The crowd waited and watched. Those in the royal box waited and watched. You could not hide. Not now. Not when everyone was looking at you, expecting you to do something. And you had to do something. Answer him, at the very least. 

"My lord," you said nervously and stepped out into the sunlight. "I... I am but a servant... your request... it... it may not even be proper."

"I do not care that you are a servant," Eönwë replied, more confident this time. "I would be honored to wear your favor. And court you, once this is all over."

There was an uproar. The other nobles were scandalized. Your heart pounded even as your ears filled with the shouts of hundreds of people. You glanced at the other ladies, those who were hoping the Lord Commander would seek them instead. They were furious, their eyes ablaze with anger. It made your blood run cold.

If he left me, you thought, frightened. I would be at their mercy.

"No one will harm you." Eönwë had seen the looks and was less than pleased. He expected this to happen, but not so brazenly. "Even if you refuse," he said, his heart gripped with fear. Eönwë feared you would refuse him. "No one will harm you. I give you my word."

You looked at him and saw only him. For once, you did not see the battle-hardened warrior of legend. All you saw was a man full of hope and fear and dread. What was it that he dreaded? Your refusal?

"My lord," you said, forcing yourself forward, each step a struggle, and turning a blind eye to the stares. "What you ask of me... the king..."

"The king already knows," Eru declared to everyone's shock. "And the king approves. And once you decide on a day, the king will gladly issue a proclamation."

You turned to face the king, as stunned as the rest. 

The questions, you reflected. The king knowing your name. Him asking after your family. Did the Lord Commander approach him already?

“Lord Eönwë approached me with his intentions," Eru said, his eyes glinting with good humor. "Go on. This king is not getting any younger."

 A smile worked its way across your face. Some of the others laughed. You turned back to Eönwë. His shy looks, his attempts to speak with you, they all made sense now. He wanted to court you. He even went as far as to ask the king for his blessing. All that remained was for you to give your answer. You licked your lips nervously, remembering your dreams, how sweet they were.

There will be a storm, you thought when you caught the ugly looks. And a price to be paid. Will he be worth it?

You looked at Eönwë again. He was looking at you expectantly. Perhaps the price would be worth it, with him by my side. Finally, you said, "I have nothing for a favor, my lord. Just a ribbon."

The way his deep blue eyes lit up, like they had been lit by the light of the sun itself. It took your breath away. "Then I will gladly accept it."

You placed the pitcher on a small table before removing a thin strip of embroidered silk bound around your braid. You walked right up to the balcony, hesitant to let go of it. "My mother made this for me."

"I will guard it with my life," Eönwë promised, even as he smiled at you. The fear that gripped his heart ebbed away into nothingness. His smile widened and grew when you finally let go of the ribbon and it floated down to him. He caught it and brought it to his lips. The act was simple, but the meaning was understood by everyone. He was choosing you and forsaking all others. The thought made your eyes grow wet with tears.

"I will see you when this is over, my lady," he said, before turning his horse and riding back to his place, your ribbon firmly in his palm.

tags @cilil​ @edensrose​ @wandererindreams​ @asianbutnotjapanese​ 

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 20: Duel

If there was one thing most people could agree on about Esredes, it was that he didn't forget the past.

A long time ago, he was but a green little trainee, not even a squire. He was tasked to deliver a report letter to a Captain about their patrol details, and that was when he first met him.

Ser Astor Chevalier was towering and commanding, complete with a verdant cape. To say the little Elezen who had yet to hit his growth spurt was intimidated would at the least be accurate, and he barely knew how to even dare approach the man. "E-excuse me, Ser!" Was his best attempt, as he stiffened his body language and saluted him. "A-are you Ser Astor?"

The man turned around to fix him with an expectant stare, folding his arms behind his back as he took Esredes in. "And what's this? You're not one of mine." His voice was resonant, but it carried an unexpected softness to it underneath. "At ease, son. Indeed, you've got the right man. What is it you need?"

"I've a missive from Ser Bishop to deliver, Ser. Report of the most recent patrol. He said you would want to read it first."

"Ser Bishop, eh?" He took the missive from Esredes' hands and opened it with a letter opener, addressing Esredes as he read. "What's your name, son?"

"Esredes, Ser. Esredes Rosemond."

"Rosemond? Did I hear that right?" He nodded as his eyes snapped up to meet Esredes'. "Not oft one of yours comes our way."

"Ah, no, Ser, but I'm proud and happy to be here."

"And you're still green..." The man shifted his jaw and waved a hand out towards the training field. "Tell me, Rosemond. What made you so keen on joining the ranks?"

This was not the first time Esredes had been asked this question. He broke eye contact to look out at the field with the commander. They all said it in that same tone, like they expected a correct response. He simply needed to give that response. "I have wanted to since I was younger." He settled on with firm eye contact. "But I was not allowed. Not until I finished schooling, my parents said. However, I studied everything I could from books, and I watched a cousin train. I read all the stories, I listened to what knights had to say. I know deep in my soul this is what Halone wants for me. No other path forward has opened up to me but this. I want to protect and save others, Ser. I want to do right for the people of Ishgard."

"Your parents were wise in telling you this. A man-no matter his reasoning-should never wish to go to war. It is a harsh, cruel, unrelenting force, not unlike the chaos of nature itself. Only nature, however destructive, serves purpose in its discord. War bears no cause, sowing nothing but blood and loss." He turned. "Come with me, Rosemond." Oh no. Esredes had said the wrong thing, hadn't he? Esredes followed in silence, heart pounding a little as they climbed the steps that afforded them a better view of the entire camp. "What is it you think they all hold in common, regardless of their drive-their reason for wishing to enter knighthood? To face war head on?"

It was a riddle, Esredes reasoned. It was always a riddle with them. “They’re… human? Vulnerable? Willing to do it? Not ready?”

Astor's arms clasped behind him. "All good answers. And none of them wrong. But they have one other thing in common. One more aspect to their lives, true for any man or woman who steps out unto the fray." He turned his head to look at Esredes. "You, all of you, are someone's child. Perhaps to nobility, highborn of the purest bloodline. Perhaps not, born to little or nothing at all. Perhaps some have never met their own, while others know well their lineage, and can trace it back generations." He waved an arm out over the scene before them. "But you started somewhere, born of another. You have a family, a home, which awaits your return. This is why I have two goals in this war, Rosemond. The first is to stand and fight, and see to it that we are the impenetrable shield between the Dravanian threat and Her peoples." He raised his chin. "...The second, is to see all such soldiers returned to their families. Their homes. Their lives... where they ought to be. Where this war steals them from. Some for moons. Some for turns... Some... forever more."

The emotion of his words washed over Esredes like a tide retreating too quickly. It didn't settle in beneath the skin, and he felt lost. All he could do was frown. "I... I see, Ser. That is... very noble and good of you. I... hope to be like that, too."

"Tis not noble, son. But the wish of a husband, and a father." He said. "Forgive me my suddenness, but I do believe we have volunteers to aid in making supper. Oh-and give Captain Bishop my regards, yes?"

"I- yes, ser!" Esredes said as the Captain headed out with that. And so Esredes went back to his tasks.

But that would not be the last Esredes saw of that Captain. Not at all. It was when Esredes had become a squire that he returned in the winter, very suddenly, behind Esredes just as he was cleaning his armor with a simple "Rosemond." And it sounded like it was coated over with malice. "Full glad am I to see you taking so well to your duties. Got a headstart on cleaning your amor have you?"

Esredes' blood had already turned to ice as he hobbled up to stand at attention. “Yes, Ser, I have.” He bowed his head. “I would not want to put it off.”

"That's good to hear you say, son. Good to hear you say. You know, it can be difficult, getting the hang of cleaning your armor. But it's a task best perfected early I'd like to think." He nodded. "So why not let the your fellows help you out? Get you nice and familiar with scrubbing that metal."

He put his foot forward, pressing it into the snow and sliding it aside to make a clearing. A shrill whistle followed and he stepped to the side, and suddenly one after the other every squire in the camp came forward and piled their armor up in front of Esredes. Esredes could do nothing but watch in shock as the pile grew and grew. Over twenty people had added to it. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Well!" Astor said when the pile finally stopped growing. "Looks to me like you've got your work cut out for you. But I've got high expectations of you, Rosemond. And I look forward to making sure all of those pieces are gleaming by the time you're done... wouldn't want anyone here having points docked on inspection tomorrow morn, would you?" The smile he gave Esredes was horrible. Oh so horrible, it made his stomach turn inside out.

He was going to be out here the rest of the day. But he was given a challenge, and he wouldn't back down from it. “Yes, Ser.” Was all he offered in acknowledgement. And then he scrubbed away at the armor. He scrubbed harder and harder, and in the end managed to finish by dinner, even though he was late. That was enough of a victory for him.

But sure enough, the next morning, the Captains' sollerets clinked across, followed by that shout of "Rosemond!" And Esredes tensed up. "You did good work, son. I'm impressed. Got the whole of the outpost looking spick and span! I think you've earned yourself a real assignment. What do you say, son?"

"What... what sort of real assignment, Ser?"

"Come now, look alive! I'm not going to bite your head off." The Captain laughed, but Esredes wasn't so sure.  "I'm trusting you to sweep the perimeter of the wall, son, make sure all is in order. "And another thing, I want you to pay close attention to the roads leading in and out of here, yes? We need those clear of any possible debris. Last thing we need is a supply cart getting caught on anything. Broom'll be by the gate. I made sure the boys set aside one just for you."

Esredes resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. Broom duty. Really?   He was tempted to ask how far out on the roads, but decided it was best not to get specific. "Very well, Ser." He offered.  How hard could it be to use a broom for this. He'd had to clean up his own messes to hide from his parents before. He started to turn, then realize he hadn't been dismissed and stiffened right back up to correct his position.

"Come now, Rosemond, where's that spark? If you're going to be out there you'd better be alert, at attention, aware of your surroundings! Or am I to find you half asleep at your post when a wyvern comes crashing through a wall? Did I say you were dismissed, Rosemond!?" He snapped. "But if you're so eager to get started, then maybe I should reward you for taking the initiative! While you're out there you can go ahead and count clearing the balistraria of any ice, as well as double checking our fortifications to your list of duties!" He stepped forward, closing in on the space between them both. "I do not want to see so much as a single pebble out of place! A splinter splitting from those blockades! Do you understand me!?"

“Yes Ser!” Esredes did not drop eye contact.

"That's more like it! Now get your arse out then and dont let me catch you back within these walls until you've made damn sure you are done! Dismissed!"

Esredes had tried to complete this task just as the one before. He snuck in to get a shovel, he began shoveling snow out by the path- but soon a storm brewed, and he found himself faced with a palisade coming down right on top of him. In that split second between being crushed or retreating into a hole for safety, he rushed into the hole and was sealed inside, trapped out in the cold. He tried to hack away at the wood with his sword, with his shovel, to even try and use his forbidden powers, but none of it worked to give him an escape. And it wasn't long after he passed out, woke up in the infirmary, and laid in bed after finishing supper feeling completely drained, that he appeared again.

"...Rosemond." His voice was hoarse as he peered down at him and pulled up a seat by his cot. "How are you feeling?"

Esredes tensed and sat up straight. "Better, Ser!"

"Easy there, son. You're still in recovery."

"...I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to get myself out, Ser. It- it will be different next time, I promise."

The Captain shook his head. "The only apologies here should be from myself, and the one responsible for distracting you and destabilizing the snow running about like that. My hope is that there won't be a next time. I'd hoped there wouldn't be a first time, frankly... But... what's happened has happened, and I can only thank Her and the staff here, along with your stubbornness, for keeping you with us..."

“I’m fine, Ser, really. Just… tired. I’m not here to fail, Ser. I handled it the best I could.”

"You might be, with time... but it isn't. Son, there's too much that could get a man killed out here... I should've never let one of those things be me." He bowed his head and took a breath. "And you've my humblest apologies for it." The man even made eye contact with Esredes, which he had started to grow to hate, even though his sharp gaze had softened considerably. "You handled yourself well out there. A lesser man would've panicked, stuck on the spot. Nobody can blame you for wanting some shuteye after it all." He pressed his hands to his knees and grunted as he stood. "You'd better get plenty of it. You aren't leaving here until those healers give you a clean bill of health, you hear?"

“Yes, Ser.” Esredes said. “I will rest. You have my word.” He was impressed. He was impressed! These last two horrible days had been worth something after all, and he wouldn’t be sent home.

He didn't see that Captain again until three years later, when he was a recently promoted Sergeant, when just as before, the clink of armor came up behind him. "Esredes Rosemond... Sergeant Esredes Rosemond from what I hear." The voice gave a deep, mirthful laugh. "Congratulations Ser, and might I say, impressive work, given the tales that've been told even in my neck of the woods."

"Captain." Esredes rose from his seat and gave him a much more practiced salute.

"At ease, son. My, it's been too long. You've come far since we last saw one another." Of course he had, Esredes thought as he clasped his hands behind himself and smiled. That was what rank got him, didn't it? To be look at instead of down upon by people like him? “I assure you, the tales are most likely exaggerated. It was others who did most of the work.”

"Oh please, no need to be so humble- unless my ears have finally begun to fail me and I've misheard how you took down a man before he could escape due justice?" Well yes, that had happened. But it wasn't so grand and dramatic, so he thought. "You ought to be proud, Sergeant. Your family must be, given how well you've taken to this. We could use more men liek you, frankly. Who aren't afraid to get the work that needs doing, done. Though if i may, I would like to steal you away from yours if but for a moment. As there is something I would discuss regarding a... another matter."

(more later!)

[queenmarytudor]

Mary I's Fight For The Throne

18th July - Mary is furious

Deep in preparations to fight, Mary orders a complete book of all the ordnance in camp made 1, as well as more tools from the surrounding area to build trenches against a cavalry charge. 2

Mary sends a letter to Richard Cavendish, who she had put in charge of the 6 ships at Harwich. Whilst transporting artillery back men have spotted another ship there, and she commands him to stop the crayer, the Mary Gallant, that is full of salmon “whereof one last and 3 barrels is the Queen’s proper goods, the residue belonging to a merchant of London.” 3 She orders Cavendish to take only the correct amount “so that the poor man have no aggrievance.” 4

Around this time, Thomas Poley who has arrived at The Greyhound, asks Master Hurlock what letters and writing Grice had in his chest.  All the writings are taken back to Framlingham. 5

George Howard arrives from the Earl of Warwick's camp, and likely informs them of Sawston Hall being burnt. According to legend, Mary is alleged to have said upon hearing the news "Let it blaze; I will build Huddlestone a better." 6 True or not, Huddlestone did later receive a grant of stone from Cambridge castle to rebuild his house, one which still bears the date 1557. 7

It is perhaps this attack on her supporters that prompts Mary to release a proclamation calling for the Duke of Northumberland to be arrested:

By the Queen. Know ye all good people that the most excellent princess Mary, elder daughter of King Henry VIII and sister to King Edward VI, your late sovereign Lord, is now by the grace of God Queen of England, France and Ireland, defender of the faith and very true owner of the crown and government of the realm of England and Ireland and all things thereto justly belonging, and to her and no other ye owe to be her true Liege men.’ [...] nobly and strongly furnished of an army royal under Lord Henry, Earl of Sussex, her Lieutenant General, accompanied with the earl of Bath, the Lord Wentworth and a multitude of other noble gentlemen […] her most false traitor, John, duke of Northumberland and his complices who, upon most false and most shameful grounds, minding to make his own son king by marriage of a new found lady’s title, or rather to be king himself, hath most traitorously by long continued treason sought, and seeketh, the destruction of her royal person, the nobility and common weal of this realm.  Wherefore, good people, as ye mindeth the surety of her said person, the honour and surety of your country, being good Englishmen, prepare yourselves in all haste with all your power to repair unto her said armies yet being in Suffolk, making your prayers to God for her success … upon the said causes she utterly defyeth the said duke for her most errant traitor to God and to this realm. Anyone taking him, if a noble and peer of the realm, to have one thousand pounds of land in fee; if a knight, five hundred pounds in lands, with honour and advancement to nobility; if a gentleman under the degree of knight, five hundred marks of land in fee and the degree of a knight; if a yeoman, 100 pounds of land in fee and the degree of a squire. 8

Meanwhile...

Northumberland marches from Cambridge to Bury Saint Edmunds. 9 While doing so, he finds out the Earl of Oxford has defected to Mary. 10

Jane writes to Sir John Lowe and Sir Anthony Kingston: "Trusty and well beloved, we greet you well, because we doubt not, but by this our most lawful possession of the crown with the free consent of the nobility of our realm and other the states of the same, is both plainly known and accepted of you, as our most loving subjects. Therefore we do not reiterate the same. But now most earnestly will require, and by authority hereof warrant you to assemble, muster and levy all the power that you can possible make, either of your servants, tenants, officers, or friends, as well horsemen as footmen, repairing to our right trusty and right well beloved cousins, the Earls of Arundel and Pembroke, their tenants, servants, and officers, and with the same to repair with all possible speed towards Buckinghamshire, for the repressing and subduing of certain tumults and rebellions moved there against us and our crown by certain seditious men. For the repressing whereof, we have given orders to divers others our good subjects and gentlemen of such degree as you are, to repair in like manner to the same parts. So as we nothing doubt, but upon the access of such our loving subjects as be appointed for that purpose to the place where those seditious people yet remain, the same shall either lack hearts to abide in their malicious purpose, or else receive such punishment and execution as they deserve, seeking the destruction of their native country and the subversion of all men in their degrees, by rebellion of the base multitude, whose rage being stirred, as of late years hath been seen, must needs be the confusion of the whole common weal. Wherefore our special trust is in your courage, wisdom and fidelities in this matter, to advance yourselves both with power and speed to this enterprise, in such sort as by our nobility and council shall  be also prescribed unto you. And for the sustentation of your charge in this behalf, our said council, by our commandment, do forthwith give order to your satisfaction, as by our letters also shall appear unto you. And beside that, we do assure you of our special consideration of this your service to us, our crown, and especially to the preservation of this our ream and commonwealth. Given under our signet at our Tower of London, the XVIII of July in the first year of our reign." 11

Robert Dudley declares Jane queen in King's Lynn. 12

The Imperial ambassadors hear from the man they sent to follow Northumberland that he has "about 1,000 horse, 3,000 foot, 12 pieces of artillery, such as cannons and double-cannons and thirty cart-loads of ammunition" 13 but Mary "appears to be stronger than the Duke, and every day we hear people muttering against him and preparing to declare for her." 14

Sources:

1. Acts of the Privy Council Vol. 4

2. Acts of the Privy Council Vol. 4

3. Acts of the Privy Council Vol. 4

4. Acts of the Privy Council Vol. 4

5. The Navy of Edward VI and Mary I

6. Lives of the queens of England, from the Norman conquest, Vol. 3 Agnes Strickland

7. A History of the County of Cambridge and the Isle of Ely: Vol 6, British History Online

8. Mary Tudor, The First Queen, Linda Porter

9. Jane Grey, Tudor Mystery, Eric Ives

10. Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae of Robert Wingfield

11. Ecclesiastical Memorials

12. Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae of Robert Wingfield

13. Spanish State Papers, 19th July 1553

14. Spanish State Papers, 19th July 1553

[laurelsofhighever]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 12/? Rating: M Warnings: Canon-typical violence Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

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Haring, 9:30 Dragon

The paper crinkled under the twist of anxious fingers, the words of the letter contorting as the linen fibres split just enough to crack the strokes of oak-gall ink. Alistair paced. The messenger had presented the royal missive with a silent bow, its urgency betrayed by the fact that it was done in the relative privacy of a corridor and not at the spectacle of breakfast, where the custom was to deliver any letters accumulated from the day before so that all the nobility of Starkhaven might better pry into one another’s business. Conscious of Princess Meghan’s particular love of gossip, Alistair had come to the deserted upper courtyard without even stopping at his rooms to retrieve his cloak, but agitation stirred his blood too high to find the mild Marcher weather cold.

A Blight. A full muster of the Bannorn underway. A personal request from Cailan to come home.

Water poured into a carved basin from the mouth of a bronze lion set into the white marble wall. Emerald vines scrambled up the pillars of the arcade to proffer clusters of scented, dawn-yellow flowers, their colour blanched against the deep blues of the glazed tile floor. When he turned, he caught the brown flash of a sparrow darting into the low hedge under the lemon tree.

“He says the Warden-Commander himself requested an audience,” he worried. “He says the darkspawn are massing in the Wilds.”

Across from him, his companion stared down at the floor, his chin resting grave against his knuckles and his stern brow knotted over tired blue eyes. Nathaniel Howe had always been serious, quiet growing up in the shadow of his father, and seven years spent as the squire of a Marcher lord had done little to temper that early melancholy. Still, wintering as he was while the Grand Tourney gained enough energy for the new season, he was the closest thing to a friend to be found in Starkhaven’s labyrinthine palace, his judgement sound and his manners a comforting reminder of home.

“I should be going with you,” he said. “It’s my duty as much as yours to defend Ferelden.”

“Ser Rudolphe won’t spare you,” Alistair replied. Although the knight could be generous in his way, he also enjoyed the comforts that could only be provided by a bevy of squires. “If he even believes it to be a true Blight. Teyrn Loghain is kicking up a fuss, apparently.”

Nate’s mouth twisted in a grim parody of a smile. “No doubt this is all some Orlesian plot.”

“Something like that.”

Silence fell heavily over them once more. In truth, nothing much could be said; the war stories they had grown up hearing by the fireside told of great battles against enemies that valour and sound strategy could defeat, not a horde of darkspawn that would come wave on wave and kill for the senseless pleasure of blood, like ants, driven by instinct to swallow everything in their path.

“Will you go by Highever?” Nate asked after a moment.

An image cut into Alistair’s mind of Castle Cousland burning, the orchards at its feet withered black with disease. “I… no. Denerim’s closer from Wycombe.”

“You can’t avoid her forever.”

Instead of answering, Alistair chose to watch the sparrow hunting for insects through the leaves, fluffing its dull feathers against the cold as a cloud passed over the sun and pressed its darkness into the already shaded courtyard. He did not need to answer. The truth had come spilling out in the bottle of Satinalia brandy they had shared the previous year, and now Nate knew every detail of how he had betrayed Rosslyn’s trust, then skulked away like a thieving dog. She had probably grown beyond him anyway, won accolades and admirers far better than –

“I know you’re still in love with her,” Nate said when nothing else filled the silence.

“What –?” he spluttered. “Still – I’m not –”

“It’s been obvious since you were fifteen.”

With a sigh, he gave in and slumped on the bench next to his friend, wistful for a few moments before when the conversation had been about darkspawn. “Not to her.”

He still recalled the day Fergus and Oriana had publicly announced their betrothal. Hiding in the gallery to avoid the adults who had all come to wish her brother well, they had stolen a carafe of deep Antivan red and giggled their way through the speeches, their own small rebellion against those who fawned over Rosslyn like a plaything and pretended the king’s unacknowledged bastard did not exist at all. She had been dressed in layers of samite that rippled in shades like winter fog, like her eyes, with enamelled brooches in the shape of laurel leaves to hold the tumbling night of her hair at bay like storm lanterns on the prow of a ship. That had been the first night he wondered what it would be like to loose the pins and let the silk of it fall through his fingers.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he continued, shaking off the memory. “When I go back, I’ll be fighting, and she’ll hate it but there’s no way her father will let her join him on the field. When it’s over…” He sighed. “Maybe. When it’s over.”

His mind turned to the others he had left behind, to Thea and her family in the alienage, the denizens of Redcliffe, and in between every farm and hold that would be swept away if the king could not turn the horde. He doubted a single child in Thedas had grown up without hearing stories of the Blights, or the unimaginable scale of destruction the darkspawn left in their wake. They were dark tales for dark winter nights – to think they might soon become a reality for everyone he gad ever known…

Trying for a smile, he turned to Nate and folded the letter away into a pocket. “You never know, maybe your father will call you back, too, and we can all take to the field together.”

“Perhaps I’ll write to him first, and see if I can glean anything before you finish packing.”

“Hey! I’m not that disorganised.”

“Of course not, Your Highness,” his friend replied in a placid voice. “And I’m off to join the Grey Wardens.”