#and not just ‘’well one historical source said this so obviously it’s true’’

[serregon]

I hate the Borgias show not because I’m clutching my pearls over the incest but bc Lucrezia is so interesting to me but the most mainstream depiction of her just takes ahistorical slander at face value

[laurelsofhighever]

Hey, just saw your fic with Maric x Serving Girl Alistair's Mother. I read your author's notes on Ao3, and were you hinting at conflicting information on Alistair's mother's identity? Or is my tired brain misinterpreting? I'm all for writing whatever you want, go nuts, no problem with the fic. But this peaked my interest, because I've never heard of anything disputing Fiona, given 'The Calling' novel. Does it have to do with there being no acknowledgement in DAI if you have Alistair and Fiona at Skyhold at the same time? Any information or clarification you provide would be appreciated. I always loved Maric.

Hi Nonny! This has consumed my entire evening and I hope you’re prepared for the splurge about to be unleashed. Thank you for the ask! The disclaimer at the top of the fic is there because historically the subject of Alistair’s mother has been a… charged subject, for reasons that I won’t get into now because it’s not really relevant to your ask and I don’t have a horse in that specific race.

However, if you look into canon, there is indeed a bunch of conflicting information about the identity of Alistair’s mother – or rather, there’s a bunch of information that conflicts with the Word of God confirmation from David Gaider that Fiona is Alistair’s mother. Which… is also not exactly true. In an interview from 2014 when asked specifically about it, he said (after a long, weary sigh), “I never actually meant for it to be a thing … I thought the book was fairly obvious and then people were asking and I just never confirmed it … it comes up in the game and I will leave it at that” (timestamp starting 35:28 if you want to check it out yourself). Thing is, it doesn’t come up in the game, either in DA:O or in DA:I – which may be the game he’s referring to, since the interview is mostly to hype its release. It isn’t clear.

We do come close to getting in-game evidence for Fiona: in DA:I, the Inquisitor can ask her about her past, and if you read between the lines there is wistfulness there, and she’s sorry he dies, but her comments about it being “too late” to know him could just as easily be taken as being about her time as a Grey Warden if you haven’t read The Calling (TC) – she never comes out and directly says it, and we never witness a conversation between them, even if he’s a Warden presumably curious about how she became immune to the Calling (I have thoughts about this, but we’ll get to that later). In the DA:O end slides, it says someone orders an investigation into Alistair’s parentage that comes back “inconclusive” – but even without the dubious canon of the end slides (given that some, like Cullen’s, got heavily retconned in later games) this is a shaky piece of evidence at best that Alistair’s mother was anyone other than a servant. An inquest is politically motivated, after all, and would have been more concerned with his connection to Maric than the identity of his mother.

So where does this leave us? Well, we could go in circles debating what should count as canon or not, which isn’t entirely useful because people can draw lines in the sand wherever they like to make the points they want. We could argue that BioWare is really good at retconning and muddling its own lore and that the simplest explanation – that the devs made a mistake in some of the details and no one caught it – is the most likely, and that caring about it more than Gaider obviously does (with his well-known dislike of Alistair as a character) is kind of a waste of time.

Unfortunately, you’ve asked me about it, so what we’re actually going to do is go through every relevant piece of Dragon Age media, assume it is all canon, and weigh the evidence in the text to try and offer some clarification. Where things contradict, I will give more weight to the version that targets the broadest possible audience, i.e. the games > the books and novels. Where things contradict within the games, I’ll be considering which source of information is more authentic and direct within the game’s context, i.e. Alistair should know more about his history than a tavernkeep who’s listening to rumours.

Having said this, let’s start with TC, where all of our problems begin. In the last scene of this book, Fiona introduces Maric to a baby she says is theirs, and asks him to find it a home where it can be free of the stigmas of being the child of an elven mage. Fair enough. However, as conspiracy-brained as this is going to sound, there is no direct evidence to confirm that this baby is Alistair, and one or two things that suggest it isn’t. I’m not so shallow in my literary analysis that I count the fact that the baby is never named as one of those pieces of evidence. That would just be petty. Far more compelling is:

Timing: TC is set after Queen Rowan’s death. There’s some quibble about dates in World of Thedas and whether it was supposed to be set in 9:10 or 9:14 bur really that’s a numbers game and it’s beside the point, because it’s built into the plot that Maric decides to go with the Grey Wardens specifically because he’s feeling depressed and reckless through grief for Rowan. This is important because, as gets mentioned quite a few times in DA:O, Alistair was hidden in Redcliffe because Rowan was still alive. This is a conflict of information, and as already stated, games > novels.

There’s no amulet: Giving Alistair his mother’s amulet is a pretty significant moment in DA:O. It’s all he has of hers, and it’s something that ties them together narratively. If this was all meant to wrap up neatly, then the least Gaider could have done would have been to mention Fiona taking off her Andrastian amulet and gifting it to Alistair to be something of hers he can keep even when she’s not with him anymore. The fact that this doesn’t happen makes this scene emotionally empty when we know he got an amulet from a person whom he considered to be his mother. If not Fiona, then where did it come from?

'“He’s human,” [Maric] exclaimed out loud': if there’s one thing a lot of DA fans can agree on, it’s that “human/elf hybrids are totally human” is bullshit. It’s not how genetics works, it has some yikes implications considering how heavily the devs took inspiration from oppressed minorities to create the elves, and it’s not a plot point that’s ever used in an interesting way (we will get to Michel de Chevin in a moment). It’s also not true. In DA2 there is an entire series of quests about a character named Feynriel, who was born to a Dalish mother and a human father, and who is visibly part-elven. He has points on his ears! He has facial proportions halfway between the humans and elves in the game! He’s rejected by both sides of his family because of it! Now, there is also Michel de Chevin, who in The Masked Empire (TME) is revealed to have an elven mother, but this is never mentioned when he appears in DA:I, and is kind of a non-issue in the novel as well. This is the most nebulous piece of evidence by far, as it relies by default on picking which bits of material are canon, which I've already said we’re not doing here, and to be honest the physical differences between elves and humans are only really noticeable in DA2 where there was an effort made to make them look deliberately nonhuman.

Except for the timeline of the book, the evidence in TC is circumstantial. We get to more definite evidence in Until We Sleep (UWS), the third volume in The Silent Grove comics storyline, where Alistair gets to meet and talk with a dream version of his father, Maric. When Alistair asks his father to come home, Maric says, “I had a life. The people I love are all here – Cailan, your mother, Loghain… none of them are in the real world any longer, are they?” (A+ parenting there btw). Since this series takes place before DA:I, Fiona is definitely still alive, so Maric can’t be talking about her. Also, it’s interesting to note that this too is written by David Gaider, so it’s not a case of writers being at cross-purposes or not getting any intra-office memos. There are continuity mistakes in these comics, but these are mostly confined to the fact that neither Alistair nor Isabella match their in-game appearances – and remember, the games have more weight than the comics. Having said that, it does conflict with the "official" story.

With all this said, let’s come to the other beginning of all our problems, most people’s proper introduction to Alistair’s character, DA:O. In this game, it is a significant plot point that Alistair is the son of a servant from Redcliffe: it is explicitly stated in Alistair’s codex entry, and furthermore, it is something that multiple characters assert is true, including Loghain and Alistair himself.

First, Loghain. If you spare him at the Landsmeet, he joins your party and has dialogue options that talk about Alistair and why he was kept at Redcliffe. According to him, Maric nearly acknowledged Alistair, but “had more than his honour to think of”, namely the effect it would have had on Rowan and Cailan (implied: how that would have affected political stability in a Ferelden still recovering from the Orlesian Occupation). He points out that Alistair "would have been a continual reminder to Rowan of Maric’s infidelity”, which as mentioned above, means that she would have still been alive when Alistair was born.

As for Alistair, yes he was a baby at the time so doesn’t really have an objective viewpoint, and it’s not confirmed whether the person he considers his mother died in childbirth or just in his early years – the codex entry says “when he was young”, he says “when I was born”. Nevertheless, it’s clear he’s asked questions about her because he knows roughly who she was and what she did, and also at some point learnt the name and rough location of the person his entire companion quest (and Fade dream) revolves around.

Let’s talk about Goldana.

Really, she is the biggest wrench in the certainty that Fiona is Alistair’s mother, because there’s no way to square away that fact with her existence, and by extension the existence of the servant in Redcliffe who was her (and Alistair’s) mother. But what if she’s just an exceptional liar, thinking she could make a quick sovereign out of the king’s bastard by playing along? It’s possible. However:

When you take Alistair to meet her, she’s the one who brings up Maric (“I said the babe was the king’s, and they told me he was dead, and gave me a coin to shut my mouth”) – Alistair until that point has only mentioned his mother and that she worked in Redcliffe Castle. If she was hedging her bets, wouldn’t it make more sense for her to accuse him of being Eamon’s bastard?

If she were talking nonsense, why would “they” bribe her with hush money? It would be very easy for someone as powerful as Arl Eamon to dismiss or debunk such claims, and he shouldn’t care what a random servant’s kid has to say – unless there’s a kernel of truth in it that he doesn’t want anyone looking at more closely

On that same note, why would “they” tell her the baby was dead if it wasn’t, if it was just some random’s kid? Either there’s an entirely separate baby that Goldana believes for some mysterious reason was fathered by the king, which Alistair – actually fathered by the king – replaced at just the right age that nobody noticed, or they’re the same baby. One of these options is far more plausible than the other

If she’s that good at lying, why is she still just a washerwoman living in a hovel and asking three copper per load? She should be running Denerim!

Facetiousness aside, Goldana’s story confirms that at the very least there was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who had a baby at roughly the same time that Alistair was born, and that for whatever reason, she was connected enough to Maric that multiple people in the castle suspected he was the father (and resented Alistair because of it). If this was an entirely separate baby, then it makes Maric an absolute shit of a person to have taken one son and used him to replace one that had just died in childbirth. Either that or a complete idiot for sending his actual son to a place where he’s rumoured to have a son and deciding that’s a secure hiding place – because you can’t tell me Eamon wasn’t aware of what was going on under his own roof. Even the fact that Alistair himself knows and was aware of it from a young age suggests that it wasn’t a very well-kept secret.

So where does all this leave us? From here, things get a little more suppositional, a little more Doylist, and a lot more subjective. To start with, taking into account all of the above evidence, if Fiona is Alistair’s mother, then his arrival at Redcliffe relies on a – I would say – plot-breaking  set of contrivances.

1: Fiona, somehow cured of the darkspawn taint enough to have a child, arrives in Denerim with Alistair, who isn’t old enough to be weaned yet, asking for somewhere to put him that won’t draw attention. She does this after walking pretty much all the way across Thedas even though, as mentioned in TC, the Wardens already have procedures in place for fostering children born to their ranks, presumably ones that don’t involve so much steady exercise.

2: Instead of using his kingly resources to track down a woman in Denerim who has recently given birth and telling her to take on an extra kid, Maric decides to send the baby to the other end of the country, to the house of an unmarried nobleman who will definitely not stir any gossip if he shows up on his own doorstep with an infant he wants someone to care for. Where did the baby come from? Don’t ask. Are you happy that everyone will think this kid is your bastard? I’m sure it’s a decision that won’t have any negative consequences for me in the future. But you are going to tell everyone he’s your bastard to keep up the ruse, right? No, now stop asking questions.

2: Luckily, there’s a woman in Eamon’s household who has recently given birth, or is at least close to it, and they can substitute? add? this baby to that baby without having to pay her off, because she’s an employee. The bait ‘n’ switch is timed so perfectly that no one notices that there are in fact two babies, or that the baby is suddenly several months older than it was before (truly, a medical miracle). Unless they’re exactly the same age, in which case what are the odds.

3: Somehow, despite all the secrecy, this woman’s other child knows that the baby is the king’s and won’t shut up about it, to the point where someone has to pay her off and send her packing. But that’s all unnecessary, because the woman – and her original baby I guess? – both die and leave no witnesses.

4: Rowan still manages to be mad about this and everyone is worried for her reputation despite having been dead for two years.

It’s a level of convolution that does not exist with the alternative, which has been pretty common since forever in the real world: powerful man sees pretty woman, decides he’ll have that, doesn’t want to face the consequences, makes everyone miserable in the process. Alistair’s mother being an ordinary person caught up in the orbit of someone she can’t resist is so much more narratively coherent, if significantly less romantic.

And this is where we get into the biggest problem that I have with Fiona-as-Alistair’s-mother: it has no payoff. These are fictional people, structure is important for narrative, and while I’m not saying that every little thing has to have purpose or direction, a pretty significant amount of Alistair’s character arc in DA:O is wiped away if his mother isn’t who he thinks it is. His story is about social class and identity and whether legacy is even worth it: Fiona’s identity means nothing to him, and that’s not something that ever changes. In DA:I she looks a bit sad when she mentions him, but there’s no work ever done to explore that, or to explore how Alistair might feel if his mother is actually alive but abandoned him, and how awkward that makes things for him if he’s king. OR to have him hear that she’s now immune to the taint and be just a little bit curious about how that came about. There’s no conversation, no status quo shift. Instead, the devs rely on the fans who know this metatextual fact to do the emotional heavy lifting for them and extrapolate the consequences they don’t want to deal with themselves.

It is lazy writing.

In some cases I also think it becomes a prop that invalidates the point of his character arc – and even breaks the worldbuilding a little, turning what was originally a struggle to forge an identity separate from people’s expectations, into a straight case of nepotism. The two most egregious examples?

Is he able to use templar abilities without lyrium because anyone with enough training and discipline can do it, and the lyrium is just the Chantry’s way of keeping its army leashed and loyal? Nope, it’s because he’s special because his mummy was a mage and it gave him special latent mage powers. That’s far more interesting than examining the ramifications of a religious order using addiction and brainwashing to make sure its soldiers will commit atrocities without question.

Is he a Warden because of his strength of will and determination to survive, chosen from the ranks of the other potential recruits because he had a spark of something that Duncan knew would be valuable in the fight against the darkspawn? Nope, it’s because his mummy was a Grey Warden and gave him special taint immunity powers, and also she was best friends with the current Warden-Commander so he was picked even though there were better fighters among the potentials competing that day. Don’t worry, this doesn’t mean that all Wardens secretly have Warden blood already because that would be ridiculous, it’s just Alistair who needed that extra leg-up because otherwise he’d be useless at everything.

I promised myself I would rein in the sarcasm but from a storytelling perspective it really annoys me that this shift turns him from an ordinary person into the specialest boy in the world, because it denies him his agency and takes the teeth out of his achievements. I’m not even going to get into how it lets BioWare off the hook for representation, insisting he is half-elven and taking a gold star when he’s never identifiable in-world as a member of an oppressed minority, and it never has any bearing on how he views the world or how it views him. It feels like it’s giving the devs far more credit than they deserve, especially when the effort they put into this (minimal as it was) could have gone into giving Zevran more to say on this. exact. subject. He’s right there, and he is perfect for exploring this aspect of the worldbuilding when he isn't being overlooked.

This is getting a little ranty now so I’ll wrap it up with thanks for your patience, Nonny, if you’ve made it this far. What’s the conclusion? At the end of the day, people can make up their own minds with their own reasoning, all I’ve attempted to do here is lay out the various threads untangled from the snarl that is BioWare’s incomparable ability to fuck up their own lore. Personally, I think Alistair’s mother being an ordinary servant makes his journey and the themes of his character arc more compelling wherever he ends up, and I like that this means his parentage is a facet of his identity rather than the only interesting thing about him. I also think the weight of evidence in DA:O, the game where he’s first introduced, is greater than in a tacked-on scene at the end of a tie-in novel written by a guy who seemed to just think it was a good idea at the time. But hey, I’m not the authority.

However, if there’s one solid takeaway from this then here it is: don’t give BioWare more credit than they deserve, don’t do their work for them, and especially don’t assume they’re leading us down a merry path with super-secret truths for enlightened minds only when the simpler explanation is that no one stopped (in this instance) David Gaider getting carried away.

[transmutationisms]

re: everything horny nothing beautiful—do you think people are onto something when they say that americans became oddly and intensely puritan after 9/11. never understood that particular argument, nor the bit about americans as uniquely puritan/sexually repressed compared to the rest of the (western) world

ya i can kind of understand people thinking that the wave of post-9/11 nationalism led to like a general sexual conservatism, like it's sort of just an assumption that those things must have automatically gone hand-in-hand, but i don't think actually that america did become significantly more sexually repressed or puritanical in the aughts lol. it's also another one of those cases where many people seem to want to use the idea of puritanism to mean, like, "intensification of reactionary ideas" and i think puritanism is better understood as just one reactionary strain among many. like, all roads do not necessarily lead to rome.

anyway as to the general perception of americans as uniquely sexually repressed and puritanical i think there are a couple things going on. one is a general, max weber-lite tendency to over-interpret the significance of protestantism as a guiding economic force with an accompanying cultural and sexual ethos. so the fact that america has always been plurality protestant gets taken as prima facie evidence of sexual repression, like the way countries like england or germany are also assumed more repressed and buttoned-up than eg france or italy. i've said before that weber arguments are bad (/tagged/weber) and i'll say it again.

there's also, i genuinely think, a continued appeal to the colonialist, climatic-racial argument that hotter environments make people more emotional, impulsive, expressive, and yes sexually uninhibited. again even just within europe you can think here about how northern europeans perceive themselves vs how they talk about spain, italy/the mediterranean, etc. i think the us gets broadly lumped in with england here as a former british colony, and then you can see how internally there's absolutely a distinction between how people talk about the us north vs the south, and how the south is contrasted as wilder and, despite the bible belt, sexually more dangerous/improper; obviously this also relates to internal racist and classist dynamics, including the legacy of slavery and its corresponding discourses of blackness/africanness. there's also an east-to-west distinction internally, which i'd argue shows the continued legacy of settler justifications and ideas of western expansion as both manifest destiny and exploration of a wild and untamed terra nullius. the northeast, which is where the puritan influence was historically strongest, is often positioned in these discourses as the 'true' america in the sense of being the cultural centre or source (on an internal centre-periphery model à la basalla) so the puritan influence gets overstated and puritanical/repressed sexual mores are then seen as linked to economic dominance as well as 'proper' behaviour and culture.

and then finally sometimes people are just like, going into these arguments assuming that religious proscriptions on sex can be taken at face value, which is honestly very funny. like for example you will often hear people assert that the us is specifically more 'prudish' about child sexuality than eg italy or france, and they may point to things like us evangelical 'purity rings' or those ceremonies where like, girls pledge their virginities to their fathers. and it is true these things happen. but people making this type of argument tend to forget that also, child marriage is legal in the us. in general a religious command is an interesting phenomenon for a sociological analysis, but not necessarily one that should be taken as uncomplicatedly true, esp where like sexual taboos are concerned lol. it's true that in general, americans are more concerned to preserve certain kinds of modesty than some europeans (like, public changing rooms or spas are a very different affair in the us than in eg iceland or scandinavia, specifically regarding level of comfort with nudity) but it's not really a very serious argument to assume this correlates to a larger phenomenon of general repression or puritanism.

i mean i understand all national identities are constructed and this is just a piece of how that's done, both by americans and by other countries looking at america. but yeah i would say it's not a very insightful analysis of religion or sexuality lol

[sepublic]

Any theories on why Belos wants to go back to the demon realm?? Like MAN that part caught me off guard, I have no idea what mold man wants anymore!

Well on a surface level, there's the obvious explanation that Belos is finishing what he started; His draining spell, his Day of Unity, totally failed. He can't 'rest' until he makes up for that failure, and not only that;

But the situation is now even worse than when he first arrived, from his perspective. Because no thanks to Belos' mistakes, the Collector is free and has absolute reign over the Boiling Isles! And as a godlike being, the source of an arcane type of magic "stronger than anybody's" that Belos knows firsthand because he was taught it by the Collector... This kid is an ACTUAL, legitimate threat to humanity that Philip feared and saw in witches all along. No thanks to Philip's irrational bigotry, of course; But yeah, it tracks that Philip feels the need to fix the situation and latch onto this weirdly vindicating threat.

And to dive a little bit deeper... Honestly, I think it's because Belos is running around in circles at this point. He doesn't REALLY know what he wants, because he came back home, and exactly as feared, as Luz warned him, it changed; Changed not just superficially, but in moral values as well. They treat magic and demons as a totally neat thing, they don't hate it; They live 'godless' lives. And the Halloween festival is the worst offender; A historical reenactment in which the witches are portrayed as victims, while the heroes of Gravesfield are slandered as having mundane, petty motives (in this case, taking the land of the accused).

There's nothing left for Belos here. Even the Haunted Hayride, which seems like a brief respite from the horrors, in how it portrays Caleb as a victim, and Philip as a tragic hero, is immediately undercut by Masha's commentary, and this type of narrative framing for the brothers is mostly a holdover of tradition, the need to spook people and not an actual belief.

Belos is willing to die a martyr; He suggests it at the end of Elsewhere and Elsewhen, when he says that he only needs to live long enough to see this through. And his actions in King's Tide certainly support this, even if he couldn't have done anything to stop the draining spell, anyhow. The Portal represented hope and happiness for Philip, that maybe it didn't have to end with the death of witches; That after all was said and done, he could actually have a life after that, return from his Hero's Journey and be happy again.

But... That's obviously not possible. The past truly is out of reach and impossible now. So all Belos has left is that original mission of hatred (and gorgeous hair I guess); No more love and longing, there's just spite and bitterness in this man. And tellingly, he's lost all of his original human guise and is operating as a monster full-time. Belos is no doubt aware that death is the only peace he has left, but he doesn't want to give up and commit the sin of suicide; He needs to justify it. It has to be on his OWN triumphant terms, so he's insisting on dying as a martyr by killing all of the witches.

Maybe he plans to return to Gravesfield and boast his evidence to the disbelieving community. He talks mad shit of "saving souls" and all. And/or he plans to return to the human world after this, to 'save' his home as well from its own corruption. I wouldn't put it past Philip to not know what he has planned and what's his true end goal, so he's just distracting himself with one step at a time, what's immediately in front of him, returning to a familiar pattern, the longest-lasting one he's ever had, even more familiar for him now than a childhood with Caleb. Latching onto the threat of the Collector as some evidence that his fears were right all along, to get some sense of being right again.

I guess it's a dark parallel to Luz, again; Philip isn't sure what he wants with his future, feels like he can't belong to either realm and is always a stranger. So he's hopping back and forth, trying to distract himself with immediate goals like 'helping' people, in order to not confront himself. He's totally lost and scared because the past has now been closed off forever to him, and what is there in the future that he never had to confront until then???

[chlorine-and-daisies]

GO ask and touch on religion classes for you and me in need of takes for a fic I'm working on: Is "The Bible" in the GO universe "The Word of God?" Or is it just human dude's documenting, interpreting, and guessing?

Amazing question!

From my understanding (and take this with a grain of salt as I'm just a now-agnostic biochem student who took a couple religion classes) the Bible we know was complied and edited by multiple scholars over centuries, each with their own taste, agenda, and access to different information. Many of them were writing about events that they did not actually witness, or writing allegories instead of straight historical records. There are some Biblical figures that we can assume existed in real life because they show up in non-Biblical sources too, but there are also lots of contradictions and events such as the flood that, to the best of our scientific knowledge, never happened.

In *my opinion* the Bible in Good Omens is just as much "the word of God" as our Bible is. That is- it was written down by men, through the ages, about their own interpretation of God and history.

It's just that in their world, the angels that show up in the Bible are just as real as, say, Ahab, King of Israel, Augustus Caesar, or Jesus. Doesn't mean that everything that's said about them im the Bible is true- Agnes Nutter is still the only writer of true prophecies- but they did show up in history and get remembered to the point where things were written down about them.

Furthermore, Good Omens makes it clear that in the world of the story, Heaven and Hell and God are not responsible for or even aware of the more bigoted human interpretations of the Bible- I can't see the Archangels for example having any idea that humans used the curse of Ham as justification for slavery and Leviticus as a reason to look down on homosexuality, or that women were ever forbidden from speaking in church.

I forget if this showed up in the show, but in the book, Aziraphale collects misprinted Bibles, and in one of them, he had actually inserted a scene of himself telling God that he misplaced the flaming sword during the book's proofreading stage. When he's trying to find a body during Armageddon, he unwittingly possesses a televangelist, and he promptly corrects some of his ideas about the Rapture before leaving. If the Bible was supposed to be the perfect word of God in this world, I doubt that he would have changed it in this way.

(Tangent, but collecting misprinted Bibles is a hobby that he shares with Adah from The Poisonwood Bible, a book that I think would make him and Crowley very emotional. The first line by the way is "Imagine a ruin so strange it must never have happened." It REALLY belongs on Jim's shelf of I books.)

As for Crowley- well. I think he interfered with Bible-writers too. Bildad the Shuhite first insists that God is just and will restore everything to Job if he repents (Job 8), then says that Job must have done something to bring about his own destruction (Job 19), then questions whether it is even possible for a human to be pure in the eyes of God (Job 25).

Finally Bildad apologizes to Job after God tells Eliphaz the Temanite to take his friends (which includes Bildad) and make a sacrifice to Job. (Job 42)

I want to draw attention to Bildad's words about God in Job 25:5-6 - "If even the moon is not bright and the stars are not pure in his eyes, how much less a mortal, who is but a maggot- a human being, who is only a worm!"

*In the Good Omens universe, where Bildad is Crowley,* these lines could show Crowley's true feelings and disillusionment with God. It's a sentiment that feels in character for him- if God thinks my stars are impure, then he probably thinks that I, and humans, will never be able to be pure. Very reminiscent of his thoughts when he's sitting in his room with space photos floating around him.

Obviously Crowley was never cruel to Job the way Bildad was- I wonder if he had these lines inserted after the fact to create a record and show Hell that he was obviously doing his job and up to no good during the Job incident.

But yeah! Thank you for the amazing question!!!!! I believe that the Bible in both the real world and in Good Omens comes from multiple human authors, contains varying degrees of truth, and changes its meaning as it is constantly reinterpreted- so it is the "Word of God" in that God and His relationship with humanity are the main focus, but that does not mean that every event literally happened as it says. Really interesting.

[adamsvanrhijn]

do you have any advice for writing period dialogue? i always think your fics sound so much like the characters and idk how to do it. i'm fine with the prose part, but as soon as a character opens their mouth i feel like they sound like they've got a smart phone and a twitter account.

well thank you first of all!! i'm not sure how helpful i can be but i will say what works for me :'-)

i would say i think the thing to focus on first is not if you're creating dialogue that is true to the period, but that is true to the character

that is more important to me than linguistic historical accuracy, which is generally not actually attainable but can be fun to try for, and it is the starting point for diving into "hey how did they use this word or phrase or sentence structure in the 1920s (or whenever)" - does it sound like that guy? if yes, but you're not sure it sounds right to That Guy's era, proceed to etymology online or whatever and fuck around until you get something you like

getting acquainted with your character's voice comes from reading/watching and rereading/rewatching your source material. I also have spreadsheets for my shows with all of the dialogue so that i can easily go find something and double check if something feels right or doesn't feel right which is maybe autism behavior

but while the source material imo should always be Home, it can only get you so far - when you aim to replicate how a character speaks, it is helpful to understand how they Don't speak, which you get from exposure to other writing and developing an understanding of the language in question if not language in general

my linguistics background is helpful because i have a mental framework for parts and structure of language, so i can recognize things in a character's speech patterns, which makes me more aware of them, and i know What i am trying to replicate and the linguistic environment i expect it to be in, rather than just trying to get at it without actually knowing what it is. this also then helps me extrapolate to things the character never said but that i want them to say in my fanfiction.

example. there are like three minimum variants of english in play in any given episode of downton abbey. but there is no downton abbey character who exhibits every single feature associated with, say, northern [england] english, because that is a very broad group of language variants, and it is conspicuous to me when i see fanfic where a character is using language that is typical of northern english but Not of the character. so having that understanding of the building blocks of language helps me avoid, like, what i see as almost a shortcut of trying to get character voice correct but that can actually put you further from where you want to be

that said. obviously not everyone can get a linguistics degree lol so i don't think that's helpful. though i would encourage anyone who wants to find new ways to match up today language with past language to do a little bit of looking into functional grammar. but i think the general advice is to pay attention to how your characters talk and think about how/when they say what they do and where that might change in canon.

and of course, this is a really methodical approach because i am a very methodical writer, and it is an approach i have developed over many years of writing, and not everyone jives with that and the best method for you might be different - but i do think this is how i think about it !!

oh i also spend a LOT of time with a thesaurus... i try to make sure i'm considering words i don't tend to use because they might be more true to the character than the one my mind goes to for the meaning

and to add on to that, sometimes characters use words that mean things to mean something a word generally does not mean, or more commonly will use a variant of a common phrase that is not my preference and so i try to accept this with an open heart and not change it to what my brain wants it to be. see thomas "could care less" barrow. i usually instinctively write it the other way and then have to go back and change it!!

[darklinaforever]

Nettles and Daemon. My take on this relationship :

Here's an article, detailing why Nettles and Daemon might (in my opinion) be a platonic relationship. It is essentially a recap of my own thoughts, as well as those of many others, including arabian-bloodstream and theroguedragon3, parts of which I write here come directly from theirs.

I also invite you to see their own article on the Nettles and Daemon relationship:

The reflection on Mysaria is extremely interesting elsewhere in this one.

Fire & Blood, is not meant to be considered historical fact. It is a biased account written by an archmaester 100 years after the fact, based on various diaries which are first, second and third hand biased accounts of the events that took place. The vast majority of these tales were written by Maesters, most of whom had no love for Rhaenyra Targaryen because of her gender, and were in fact pro-Aegon II and pro-Greens in general. The only thing we can be sure of are historical events, not character relationships. Thus, one can easily consider that everything that was said in a story involving relations between "such and such a person" was not necessarily right / true, at least to a certain extent, but which could sufficiently be heard and repeated to make their rounds in the reviews of the time, and taken up in the future accounts of the latter.

Admittedly, there are about four / five "sources" that suggest Daemon and Nettles were lovers, except it must be remembered that these sources are all based on the first one, namely Mushroom's, and the vast majority of accounts were biased against Rhaenyra and wanted to portray her and her camp negatively. Daemon Targaryen, was obviously not spared on this point, because of his gray nature, making him either loved or hated, but also because he was Rhaenyra's major asset during the war. And since the maesters were mostly trying to mount anti-Rhaenyra propaganda, portraying Daemon as an unfaithful husband would somehow reinforce that propaganda. Think about it. Daemon, not only her uncle, her husband, but also and above all her most loyal supporter, her sword and shield, the greatest threat to the Greens, was ultimately (according to the maesters) not so loyal to her, in this what was most sacred in their eyes; the wedding. This would actually suggest that Daemon didn't really love his niece, reinforcing this idea of ​​Rhaenyra being unlovable/appreciative.

And if supposedly "legitimate" sources such as Eustace from the court of Aegon II, and Mushroom from the court of Rhaenyra claimed that Nettles was Daemon's lover, well, they were surely true. Is not it ? After all, it doesn't matter that Eustace was pro-Aegon II and quite openly anti-Rhaenyra Targaryen in his stories. And it doesn't matter that Mushroom (first to have suggested this story of lovers between Nettles and Daemon) has always mostly gendered the stories he told. Surely, their affair must be true! And so other accounts followed suit. After all, when you hear something repeated over and over again, it catches on. However, that doesn't make it true, it just makes it a story told often enough for it to become true. It's even got to the point that singers have also written about them and portrayed them as lovers.

Again, that doesn't make it a reality.

Poets have done it for Daemon and Laena as well, and I doubt the latter married her because of some crush. Daemon probably, as the maesters suggest in the second version of their story, married Laena for more political reasons, (formally tying himself to the powerful Velaryon family) as well as personal reasons, such as a probable desire for children. But Daemon undeniably, in view of the facts, loved her in his own way and respected her. However, trying to portray them as madly in love is, in my opinion, a mistake. We must not forget that during the majority of their marriage, Rhaenyra was part of the equation, and that after the death of Laena, Daemon did not even wait 6 months, period of mourning required, to marry Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra with whom Daemon would have had an affair 9 years earlier, in the year 111. And whether in one story or the other, it should be noted that when they were discovered Rhaenyra and or Daemon would have proposed the wedding. The coincidence is still quite strong, not to mention the parallel of having them marry brothers and sisters respectively. Let's not even talk about the rather suspicious advanced birth of Aegon III, which would strongly suggest that Daemon and Rhaenyra would have started an affair before their marriage, which I remind you, already do not respect the period of mourning for the death of their respective spouses.

All that to say that just because the biased narrative says something relationally doesn't mean it's true. So back to Nettles and his supposed romantic/sexual relationship with Daemon. I think it is worth remembering that despite everything the maesters say about them, Fire & Blood is very clear, nothing that has been said can prove that they were lovers. It's written in black and white in the text, we can only be sure of what they were doing during their day, namely hunting down Aemond and Vaghar for Rhaenyra.

The arguments put forward to support their connection, consist in portraying the character of Daemon negatively, through his desires, which would be naturally carried (as in many men, it is well known at the time and not only) on young girls exerting a strong power of seduction on older men. His supposed affair continues with Mysaria. (Because yes, nothing can prove it either) And because in his youth, Daemon visited brothels where he was well known for deflowering very young girls.

While this does add some credence to the aspect of a possible affair with Nettles, it still cannot be used to discredit the opposite version, where Daemon is portrayed as being crazy about Nettles, not as a lover, but as a man would be of his daughter. I also recall that the book lends some credibility to Laenor's death by Daemon, due to arguments in favor of Mushroom's account, although as with Nettles there is no real proof of the act and that it is also extremely unlikely that Daemon had Laenor killed, especially by Ser Quarl.

Here, the reference to Daemon's actions in his youth is used to portray him as a man who did not rise above his primal nature, deemed deviant, in an effort to bolster Champignon's claim that Daemon did indeed take Nettles as lover. However, we are also told earlier in the book that Daemon, in his youth / when he was twenty, was short-tempered and ready to go to war for his brother's claim to the throne. Compare that to the current Daemon, more experienced in combat, turned into a brilliant strategist, first sniffing dialogue at war with Rhaenyra during the usurpation of the Greens, or knowing/understanding full well that he couldn't engage alone in a fight with Caraxes against Aemond with Vhagar and hope to survive it. Daemon has clearly moved on on this, so why wouldn't he have on the fornication aspect? Especially after having children, and long relationships/marriages with Laena (5 years old) and Rhaenyra (10 years old), who he married when they were both adults by our standards. 22 years old for Laena, and 21 for Rhaenyra. Moreover, note that no lovers were named / listed during his marriage to Laena, or even for his marriage to Rhaenyra, at least before the war unfolded. (Even if it is, yes, quite possible that he has in fact not evolved on this aspect of himself, the reverse seems to me, you will have understood it, much more probable / logical and especially interesting)

The second version offered in Fire & Blood tends more towards the idea that Daemon treated Nettles like a girl. A completely plausible version, since Nettles was precisely the same age as Daemon's daughters, namely 17 years old. Even if it was not surprising, for the time from which the universe of George R. R. Martin is inspired, that men have relations with girls of the same age as their own children, it is all the same possible and not at all inconceivable that the age of Nettles had a different impact on Daemon, and awakened his paternal/mentor side. Let us also remember that during this war, Daemon, in addition to being estranged from his daughters, also lost his stepsons and, he believes, his biological son Viserys II. Not to mention the miscarriage of baby Visenya, which, among other things, marked the beginning of this war. Daemon is therefore in fact in a situation / position, where he could totally and easily fall in love with a child, which Nettles could in fact represent, in particular because she is referred to as a child in the story. even at some point.

However, this version is decried by many fans, many being convinced that Daemon made Nettles his lover, because of particular actions towards the young girl whom they consider to be misinterpreted by the witness, Maester Norren, reporting this aspect paternal of their relationship.

Firstly, there's the fact that Daemon gave Nettles gifts and that would come to mind how he treated Rhaenyra before he supposedly had an affair with her. They are based in particular on the fact that apart from Rhaenyra, Nettles is the only other person mentioned in the story as having received gifts from Daemon. I would like to point out that there are all the same various and varied reasons for offering gifts to someone, and that once again Fire & Blood is a biased history book, not a novel that allow you to see the detailed life of the characters. So you would have me believe, on the pretext that it wasn't explicitly named in the book, that Daemon never gave gifts to Laena or his own daughters? (Do you realize how ridiculous this probability is?)

Daemon's gifts to Nettles and those offered to Rhaenyra, actually (in my opinion) have nothing to do with each other.

Here are Rhaenyra's gifts named, (although it is known that she received others from Daemon during her youth) are: Pearls, silk, books, and a jade diadem believed to have belonged to Empress of Leng.

As for the gifts from Nettles, (the only ones that we know of) they are: An ivory-handled hairbrush, a silver mirror, a coat of rich brown velvet lined with satin, and a pair of boots riding shoes in butter-soft leather.

Rhaenyra's gifts are exuberant, sometimes even unnecessary, - pearls, silk - very much like gifts one would give purely for pleasure, - books - even to woo someone, especially the tiara of jade. It is important to remember that by the time Rhaenyra received these gifts she had actually reached marriageable age. Not only did he give her gifts, but they also did a lot of activities together. As dined with her, so far nothing suspicious you might say, but he also sailed with her, hunted with her; entertained her by making fun of the Greens, characterized as suckers, flattering Queen Alicent and her children. He praised her beauty, declaring her to be the most beautiful woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms and they also began flying together almost daily, racing Syrax against Caraxes to Dragonstone back and forth.

As for Nettles, besides the obvious preciousness of the gifts from Daemon being a prince, notice how practical they seem above all else? From what we know of Nettles, she was a wildling who had nothing, and whom Daemon taught manners, such as how to dress, sit, brush her hair, and wash herself. The gifts he gave her seem to fit perfectly into this framework.

He taught her how to do her hair and dress properly? Brush, mirror, coat and boots.

Things again above all practical things that have undeniably been able to help improve the life of Nettles, which began, let us remember, and has mainly taken place in poverty.

All this gives an effectively paternalistic aspect, of educator, even of mentor to Daemon for Nettles.

Other actions/things described by Maester Norren are: Nettles and Daemon had dinner together every night and had breakfast together every morning. Both also had adjoining rooms.

In itself, these elements are not irrefutable proof that they were lovers. It just shows that Daemon particularly loved Nettles, enough to keep her close to him. Especially if he actually took on a fatherly affection, or took on a mentorship role for her, taking her under his wing as a result. So there's nothing particularly strange or wacky about Daemon keeping her close to him. Not to mention that Nettles was his partner in the active pursuit of Aemond and Vaghar and that they spent their days together, thus bringing them inescapably closer. So it makes just as much sense that they end up having dinner and breakfast together. It's a fairly logical situation for two people who must spend their time with each other, and who end up liking each other.

Now let's talk about the annoying subject, because it's the most controversial in view of our modern mores and personal limits, namely that Daemon would often (so not always) share a seat with Nettles, meaning that he would have taken bath with her. However, before we get fired up, let's keep in mind that these accounts are given by Maester Norren of Daemon treating Nettles like a girl, and they are not transcribed salaciously, so not said by Mushroom, or suggested by Maester Eustace.

And that partly makes sense, especially for the period. Reminder Game of Thrones, season 3, episode 6: "Kissed By Fir.", Jaime and Brienne bathed together, there was nothing salacious there. It was just two people who needed to be cleaned up and so they were sent to the bathroom to get it done. There was nothing sexual in it. Although it was indeed a room filled with other large baths that Jaime could have slipped into, the very idea that a man and a woman could share such a space without anything sexual or improper being involved did exist in some minds.

Some would say that's not a very good example, so I'll say this: Also consider the arduous task of bathing in those days. Raise the tub, heat the water, raise the buckets of water, then empty the tub. It's a lot of work. So sharing a bath isn't always a sexual thing, not in those days, or in ours for that matter.

If that still doesn't convince you, remember that Daemon would have basically taught Nettles, among other things, how to wash properly. That he ended up directly taking baths with her in view of their daily lives, which once again led them to share a great closeness and develop a bond, is nothing particularly surprising or shocking in itself. What's more, it's worth noting that they were never described as bathing together in private. Instead, they were surrounded by maids, testifying that they respectively washed away each other's filth, driving away the stench of dragons harvested from their days spent hunting Aemond. No one in the domain seems to have noticed inappropriate attitudes / gestures between the two companions, or at least it never reached the ears of Maester Norren, which would be quite surprising, you agree, if the two had really been lovers. Also, it is important to remember that not everyone has the same notion of modesty and nudity. Daemon is an unconventional man, we know, and Nettles, a girl who has essentially always lived on the streets, so as a result I doubt the two necessarily associate nudity with sex.

I am now going to present to you a specific example of fantasy, showing two characters, a man and a woman, sharing a bath together in a purely platonic way. These are the characters of Moiraine and Lan in the series "The Wheel of Time". Moiraine is an aes sedai, and Lan is her champion. (sort of, I don't remember the exact term anymore if there is one)

The two share a magical bond said to be stronger than between parents/children, brothers/sisters, husbands/wives, lovers, friends, etc. It is a link beyond all others. So, you surely/probably think that sex (just like me at first) is not involved in such type of relationship. Nevertheless, it is proven in the series that sexual attraction and intercourse can exist between aes sedai and their champions. Proof of this is that Alanna, an aes sedai, practices threesomes with her two champions, Maksim and Ihvon, the latter forming a relationship based on mutual respect and love.

To return to the shared bath of Moiraine and Lan, it should be noted that the latter is bisexual. Indeed, she is currently in love with another aes sedai named Siuan, and in the books Moiraine ends up married to Thom. As for Lan, the latter seems to be straight, and will end up falling in love with a woman named Nynaeve. Lan and Moiraine have no particular excuse for taking a bath together, and given their attitude, it's certainly not the first time they've done it. They could very well have washed one after the other, because Moiraine can literally heat the water, thanks to her magic. The two are also in a hunt/stalk situation, looking for who would be the "dragon", the chosen one of this fantasy story, leading them to spend even more time together than they do. usually in the capital. Clearly, the two bathe together, simply because it's probably more convenient, they don't mind it and their relationship is considered platonic anyway. Besides, if we had to characterize the relationship of Moiraine and Lan, it would be more that of a brother and a sister than anything else. However, see that it did not prevent them from taking baths together during their quest.

Once again, it's important, not everyone has the same type of modesty, or the same notion of nudity. I have always said it, and will always support it, nudity does not equal sex.

So, no, that Nettles and Daemon took baths together, doesn't necessarily mean that they had sex together. Even Fire and Blood says so, nothing that has been named proves this fact, thus leaving doubts.

There are also other elements often discussed / raised by fans, to prove that Daemon and Nettles would be lovers, but which in my opinion still have no real certainty.

Notably Caraxes' Persian scream when Daemon watches Nettles walk away, after the latter sends him away to save her from Rhaenyra's execution order, smashing the windows of Jonquil Tower. Caraxes' roar is a very clear reaction to Daemon's feelings at the time, leaving him stoic, not moving or saying a word. But again, that's not fundamental proof of a romance between them. Doubt is always allowed. If Daemon has developed a deep platonic bond with Nettles, almost coming to regard her as one of his daughters, knowing that he has been away from his own children, (with whom he has always lived) for an extremely long time, he is makes sense that Caraxes would express Daemon's pain so viscerally at seeing her go. Imagine the pain of losing a child again. Because yes, at this point Daemon has lost not only his unborn daughter, his stepsons, and he believes his second biological son, being estranged for a long time from the rest of his children. Again, Daemon found himself in a situation where it was totally and easily possible for him to go crazy for Nettles like a man would for his daughter. This option, posed by the author himself, is not improbable. Also, as Daemon watches Nettles leave, we don't know what's going on in his head, or even what he was thinking precisely at that moment. If it is, it is a mixture of several thoughts and emotions that crossed him and finally made Caraxes crack at this point. It doesn't have to be romantic.

Some argue that it is, since the tower whose windows Caraxes broke is named after "Jonquil", a girl known in the GOT universe to have had a great romance, and who aptly gives her name to the tower. However, the tower itself is not a symbol of love. People were literally locked up there as prisoners. The symbol of love, in relation to Jonquil, is the swimming pool where she and her lover first met. Not the tower then.

I won't go into the so-called parallel between Rhea Royce and Nettles, I've done that before in another post, including Daemon's death, supposedly having the sole reason of wanting suicide from not being able to be with Nettles.

Here are the links to those positions if you're interested:

I love the idea that Nettles and Daemon were able to have a strong platonic relationship, mixing mentor/student, father/daughter, and fellow warriors. A relationship with unconventional sides, which would have caused most people to misinterpret it. Mostly due to a lot of prejudice from people and maesters in general, not helping with the fact that Daemon doesn't give a damn about other people's opinions, of course. (Just like the Daemyra relationship somewhere, which nobody seems to have seen at the time as a romance, although there were no other possibilities given some of their actions) I think that would be a more interesting to see and explore. Even more so that it gives an all the more tragic side to the global story. But again, I'm not denying the possibility that Daemon and Nettles could have been lovers. Simply, it's not the interpretation that I prefer, but it's up to you to like what you want!

I await your opinions on this if you have any to share!

[bisluthq]

I feel like especially Taylor’s circle is really tight and wouldn’t tell her inner thoughts? I could’ve gone the way that the “source” described it, I have no way to dispute them, but something like “he told her to give their relationship another try in January” would mean that his inner circle knew before that date and there’s no way they’re telling this story now after more than a year of their breakup. If this had come out last year or at least before ttpd I would’ve believed it immediately, but now the timing seems off and gives clout chasing. His inner circle too seems really tight, all of them could’ve said a lot of things last year or before ttpd yet they chose to stay silent. I feel like if he doesn’t put his thoughts into music will most likely never know his version and we already know Taylor’s version of the story so the rest feels like the random submissions people were sending deuxmoi last year

yea. It’s also hella convenient that he suggested they give the relationship a try on the one date we have them hanging out publicly lol but they only remembered about all this now. What a fucking fortunate koinkydink lmao for the London based “source”.

again, none of it sounds like it can’t be true but good guesses/decent headcanoning doesn’t require intimate knowledge of the situation and it seems unlikely that this person had such intimate knowledge iykwim.

as I always say idk like judge the thing in context: the odds of someone being close enough to Taylor to KNOW all that and not only talk, which seems unlikely, but talk to a random podcast are very fucking low.

I also HATE “this person lives in X so they’d know” sources lmao. London is a fuck off big city. Even North London is not small. I have multiple friends who live in that general area. I don’t think any of them have the faintest clue what went down between Matty/Taylor/Joe. My one friend who lives there is a big Swiftie and when they moved there she used to post things about looking for Taylor and Joe out and about but she hasn’t afaik even seen either lmao yet. She saw Taylor at Wembley obviously but not out and about and not for lack of looking.

It’s like idk I don’t know what’s going on with my neighbors tbh even though I’ve met all of them. If the people across the road from me are getting a divorce, I don’t have a clue. They seem fine but idk lol what their deal is. If the gay guy next door is moving someone in, I don’t have a fucking clue lol - he seems chronically single like historically but he has people round obviously so idk maybe he does have a boyfriend or a fuck buddy or some shit. No clue. We’re a corner property so those are our only two direct neighbors and I talk to them all once a week or so and say hi and stuff when we take the rubbish out but idk what’s going on. I’m sure that’s true for most of you too. So it’s odd to me to be like “well X lives in that city so they’d know” lol. I live next door to these people and I don’t know what their deals are that well because they’re not really my friends lol they’re just people I live next door to. I know the people across the road are married and have kids and I’ve met them all and I know the guy next door is an old gay guy with a German shepherd he really loves who lets a room out sometimes (he had this one super annoying tenant whose cat kept getting stuck in my garden idk if the cat was trying to get away from the dog) but that’s like p much the extent of my tea on my neighbors.

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

There was this line in the book [Fire and Blood] that always fascinated me. Daemon's wife, the Lady Rhea Royce of Runestone fell off her horse and her skull was crushed in the fall. And I read that and was like, "that's such a weird detail to include with no context around it. [...] Obviously Daemon went home and murdered his wife." 

Ryan Condal said this after episode 5, and I want to examine it.  Mostly because I think this is the wrong conclusion to make, and I have wholeheartedly disagreed with the interpretation that Daemon killed his wife even before I really cared about him as a character.  So I want to look at the entirety of this passage:

A year later, in 115 AC, there came a tragic mishap, of the sort that shapes the destiny of kingdoms: the “bronze bitch” of Runestone, Lady Rhea Royce, fell from her horse whilst hawking and cracked her skull upon a stone.  She lingered for nine days before finally feeling well enough to leave her bed…only to collapse and die within an hour of rising.  A raven was duly sent to Storm’s End, and Lord Baratheon dispatched a messenger by ship to Bloodstone, where Prince Daemon was still struggling to defend his meagre kingdom against the men of the Triarchy and their Dornish allies.  Daemon flew at once for the Vale.  “To put my wife to rest,” he said, though more like it was in the hopes of laying claim to her lands, castles, and incomes.  In that he failed; Runestone passed instead to Lady Rhea’s nephew, and when Daemon made appeal to the Eyrie, not only was his claim dismissed, but Lady Jeyne warned him that his presence in the Vale was unwelcome. (Pg. 374, Fire and Blood)

So now I want to argue against the notion that Daemon killed his wife.  

The Source:

Fire and Blood is a biased source of history written by Archmaester Gyldayn during the reign of Robert Baratheon, who uses several historical sources that may or may not be true in his recounting of Targaryen history.  Maester’s learn their craft at the Citadel in Oldtown where the Hightowers are Lords, and it is said that the Citadel was founded by Prince Peremore the Twisted, the second son of King Uthor of the High Tower.  The Citadel has always been incredibly loyal to the Hightowers.  The Starry Sept in Oldtown was also built by Lord Triston Hightower, in honor of his mentor and earlier regent, Septon Robeson.  The Faith of the Seven has always had issues with Targaryen’s.  Oldtown in general just seems to have issues with Targaryen’s.  Once you read Fire and Blood, one thing is for certain, during the Dance of the Dragon’s Daemon is painted in a really bad light, and he’s accused of killing a lot of people even though some of them make no sense.  The telling of Fire and Blood is pro-Green.  And yet….Daemon was not accused in Fire and Blood for killing his wife, Rhea Royce, unlike all of the other accusations of deaths thrown at him, so let’s get into the reason why he couldn’t have done this.

Daemon was nowhere near the Vale when Rhea Royce died.  He was all the way in the Stepstones.  I’ve seen people say that he could have easily flown on Caraxes and immediately disappear after killing Rhea, but why didn’t anyone see his dragon if this is true?  And I’ve seen people say that maybe Daemon hired a Catspaw or an assassin to kill Rhea Royce, and I have to question why they would leave Rhea Royce alive?  Rhea Royce survived for 9 days after cracking her head, and was actually awake.  If someone tried to kill her then why didn’t she say so?  Now let’s argue that she doesn’t remember her attack, like Bran doesn’t remember who pushed him from the tower, but I still have to question why Daemon or an assassin would leave Rhea alive?  Surely Daemon has enough money to employ a good assassin?  Maybe not a Faceless Man, but someone skilled enough and ruthless enough to do the job right.  After all, we aren’t talking about someone who would make the same mistake as the literal 12 year old Joffrey Baratheon in the main series.  However, I have to question why Daemon would do this now?  Why wait so long to kill his wife in the books?  Daemon married Rhea Royce in 97 AC and Rhea dies in 115 AC so why did it take 18-19 years for Daemon to do this?  It’s obvious they never got along, so why not cut his losses a couple of years in, and then marry someone he actually likes/loves or stay a bachelor for a few years?  Like I don’t even think you can argue that he was just waiting around for Rhaenyra, because why?  Rhaenyra was born the same year he got married, 97 AC.  So if he was waiting for Rhaenyra, why not cut his losses earlier in order for him to try to wed Rhaenyra as soon as she flowered?  Instead Rhea Royce’s death comes after the rumors of Daemon and Rhaenyra being sexual together AND Rhaenyra was already wed at this time to Laenor Velaryon as they married in 114 AC.  And let’s not forget that as soon as Daemon left the Stepstones he began courting Laena Velaryon and then wed her.  It really doesn’t sound like he was doing what was depicted in the show - killing Rhea to try to wed Rhaenyra.

I also don’t think it’s an odd detail to say that Rhea Royce fell in a hunting accident and cracked her head without context, after all we get none of the gritty details about Aemma Arryn’s death beyond the fact she died in childbirth.  It’s not like it says one way or another if Aemma died from childbed fever or hemorrhaging or a c-section.  I’m not even sure what Ryan Condal thought was weird about that statement.  My guess is that he doesn’t realize how dangerous horses and horseriding can be.  I grew up around horses and people who ride horses.  It’s typical for people who regularly ride to get injured in some way by horses.  When I was a kid, my mom’s horse reared up and smacked my mom in the face, knocking out a couple of her teeth and she had to have stitches.  I’ve been around people who have broken their ribs, hurt their backs, broken their collarbones, etc. all from riding horses.  Horses are also animals that can spook easily.  And let’s not forget that the Vale is rocky terrain.  It’s more than plausible to get thrown from a 800-1500 pound horse and smack your head on a rock, cracking your skull.  Even the most expert of riders can be thrown from a horse at any time.  HORSERIDING IS DANGEROUS!  Now if you don’t believe me I’ll give you some facts:

Each year, horse riders are injured, hospitalized or killed as a result of horse-related accidents and injuries.  Despite technological advancements in equestrian safety equipment, horse riding continues to be found more dangerous than motorcycling, skiing, football, and rugby.   Whilst injury can occur simply from handling horses, falling from a horse constitutes a dangerous fall from height, possibly at speed.  A rider’s head can be elevated up to 3 meters (9.84 feet) from the ground and horses can travel at speeds around 50 kilometers (31 miles) an hour. source

Now let’s look at some motorcycle accident statistics in America:

There were 89,000 motorcycle accident injuries.

45% of motorcycle accidents result in more than a minor injury.  

There were 4,985 motorcycle deaths in 2018.

4.24% of all motorcycle accidents are fatal.

80% of all motorcycle crashes result in injury or death. 

Now let’s look at how common head (and other) injuries are from horse related accidents:

Head injuries are associated with approximately 60% of all equestrian deaths and 18% of equestrian injuries.  

Aside from death, brain injury survivors may suffer personality changes, intellectual and memory impairment, or epilepsy.

Head injuries are associated with approximately 60% of all equestrian deaths and 18% of equestrian injuries.  

Aside from death, brain injury survivors may suffer personality changes, intellectual and memory impairment, or epilepsy.  

Falling or being thrown from a horse accounts for the majority of mounted injuries, while being kicked or trodden on, accounts for most dismounted injuries.

Dismounted injuries require hospitalization approximately 42% of the time, while mounted injuries require hospitalization in only 30% of incidents.

Fractures, soft tissue damage, and head injuries are the most common types of injuries inflicted by horses.

The arm, leg and head/face are the most common body parts to be injured. source

It is not outside the realm of possibility that Rhea Royce did die from being thrown from a horse, thus smacking her head on a rock and dying 9 days later.  It is more than likely, because like I said even the most expert of horse riders can be thrown from a spooked horse and die.  I also want to mention how incredibly unlikely Rhea Royce was hawking alone.  Lord’s and especially Lady’s in her position would not go off alone, and usually hunting/hawking is a social sport for both men in women in our real medieval world.  Rhea should have had other ladies and attendants with her.  It would be incredibly weird, and awfully plot convenient for a noble woman to be off hawking alone in a territory surrounded by dangerous mountain clans.  The fact that Daemon isn’t outright accused by the source, tells me that there were witnesses to this event.

I completely disagree with Ryan’s interpretation of this part of the text.  It seems to me this is a man who didn’t check his facts on how dangerous horses can be or look at the context in which this could have happened.  It’s obvious, he pretty much considers Daemon more of a villain than a truly gray character at this point in the show, which is incredibly unfortunate considering this quote:

Over the centuries, House Targaryen has produced both great men and monsters.  Prince Daemon was both.  In his day there was not a man so admired, so beloved, and so reviled in all of Westeros.  He was made of light and darkness in equal parts.  To some he was a hero, to others the blackest of villains. (Fire and Blood)

So far we haven’t seen much of Daemon’s light in the show, and there are certain photos from trailers that suggest Daemon is going to go around killing more people that are “in his way”.  I can only hope that we will see more nuance for his character in the writing of the show going forward, that doesn’t entirely depend on Matt Smith’s acting to make him seem more complex.  Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the show, so far I am loving it overall, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have criticisms, and so far my biggest criticism is the whitewashing of Alicent and Otto in the first 5 episodes to make them “more sympathetic and complex” while not even bothering to do the same for the characters that make up Team Black, yet more of them are surprisingly still complex and sympathetic even with flaws!  Shock.  Gasp.  And I’m not saying I expected Daemon to be whitewashed, I didn’t.  Daemon isn’t some poor little meow meow.  However, I expected him to be more of a middling gray character, rather than utterly chaotic and murderous, character with invented impotency problems.  I love me my gray characters, so I wouldn’t EVER want Daemon to be whitewashed by the narrative.  However, showing Daemon killing a bunch of people now in the story, I fear, is only going to cheapen a hugely significant event he orchestrates out of obvious grief and anger most likely in the beginning of S2.  But not only that, in my opinion the whole opening scene of episode 5 was not only poorly written but poorly edited and directed.  It was confusing.  At most they should have left Rhea Royce’s death open to interpretation like Daemon’s supposed “heir for a day” comment about whether he actually said it or not and in what tone and context.  I mean we already knew that Viserys exiled him back to the Vale, so in my opinion I think at the very least it should have been left off screen with the next time we see Daemon sauntering into Rhaenyra’s wedding.  And frankly, they could have used that five minutes to further establish the future relationships we’ll be seeing in the 10 year time jump.  And while I’m not a book purist, I just don’t see the point in re-interpreting and actively creating a different scene when you honestly can’t argue about the way Rhea Royce died.  In the show Rhea Royce was paralyzed, and Daemon obviously killed her immediately with a rock, but in the books Rhea Royce lingered for 9 days before dying, and she wasn’t paralyzed, as she was walking around the hour before she died.  So why completely reinvent this part of the story?  I’m sure you all will counter that they changed Aemma Arryn’s death, by her having a c-section, but that’s not the same.  We didn’t get any details beyond “when Queen Aemma was brought to bed in Maegor’s Holdfast and died whilst giving birth to the son [...]”  There are no details here saying one way or another how Aemma died in childbirth.  It could be easily said she did have a c-section, so it’s not an entirely new thing they created.  Aemma still died in childbirth, when Rhea Royce obviously instead died the day she encountered Daemon, despite lingering for 9 days in the books.  Maybe if the interpretation and the scene had been written and filmed better, I’d be more forgiving, as I’m fairly forgiving of most of their decisions, but I just think re-imaging this scene to be something so different than what was depicted in the books, regardless of unreliable narrators (which honestly doesn’t count when it comes to straightforward causes of death, because why lie about things like this, when it’s obvious they aren’t trying to blame someone for the fall?).

So regardless of my own opinions about how the scene was written, directed, and edited, and how Daemon has been being portrayed so far, I really hope I’ve convinced you all, or at least gave you food for thought, that it’s not out of the realm of possibility that Rhea Royce in fact did get thrown from her horse, and sustained a serious head injury from the fall.  As it’s definitely more common than I think Ryan Condal knows.

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Ch. Seven)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance Rating: 18+

Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f receiving), I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written

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“Find him.” That had been Nasimiyu’s command, given with the authority one would expect from the future queen of Yeonhalbi. And Dulce bit the inside of her cheek not to say anything because honestly, that tone was being used more and more with her lately, and she did not like it. What the fuck did she care if Nasimiyu was going to be queen someday? Yes, she cared about Nasimiyu in some unique and difficult to describe way, but it was actually in spite of that royal title. And yes, there was the whole blackmailing business, but Nasimiyu didn’t know a thing about that. For all she knew, Dulce was just besotted with her and, what, eager to be bossed around like a disobedient dog?

Not for the first time, Dulce considered that Nasimiyu thought she had domesticated Dulce.

She had not. 

Had she?

No, Dulce might not have done any murdering in a while but that was becaues the job at hand didn’t call for it yet, not because she’d bat an eyelash about it when necessary. Whereas Nasimiyu was all talk. She’d never killed a human in her life and never would with her own hands, only with whatever lofty, reckless laws she put in place that would crush the common man under the heel of her silken shoes. 

If Prince Seokjin came to Dulce with a better offer, would she flip? An offer that could ensure protection for her threatened family?

Ah, that was an interesting question. A very interesting question. It would be sad for Nasimiyu to die. Dulce didn’t want her to die, not even when she was feeling bitchy because Nasimiyu was being a bitch to her these last couple of days. Dulce cared about Nasimiyu.

But she didn’t love her. Definitely not the kind of love that made you put someone else before any greater picture… the kind of love that made you choose them over the lives of your family… the kind of love that made you set aside your dreams or fears or yearnings because those became tied up wholly in the other person…

It wasn’t anything against Nasimiyu. Dulce did not think she was capable of most kinds of love. Nasimiyu seemed to believe she was, or at least infinitely patient. And so after several days of being sharp and distant and aloof, she came directly to Dulce’s room early in the morning and said: “I have it on good authority the Prince is no longer in the palace. Find him.”

The valet was still in the palace. So were all three bodyguards. Either no one else noticed or no one was concerned the Prince was nowhere to be found, but after a quick search herself, Dulce thought this rumor Nasimiyu heard from ‘somewhere, it doesn’t matter’ was annoyingly correct. Also who the fuck was this ‘unknown source’?

And how the fuck was Dulce supposed to find an errant Prince with no advance warning and no clues of where he might be going? 

Dulce did not like to admit when things were impossible for her but this, this might be.

Nasimiyu wouldn’t hear of it though, and they had a row about it, and so Dulce decided to go out for the day and “search.” Nasimiyu could prepare to be disappointed. It wasn’t a bad errand anyway, even if it would be fruitless, because they’d been here over a month now and she hadn’t gotten to just wander the city yet. Nasimiyu kept her busy in good ways and bad, but at the end of the day, Dulce was someone who liked to be alone, even in a crowded city.

So she dressed in the dullest clothing she had, including a lightweight wrap in a warm brown color to make herself unremarkable and slightly obscured, and hitched a right on the back of a carriage headed down into the city. Once the place was hidden from view, she slipped from the carriage and continued on foot, free as a lark for one day. Finally.

Priva was laid out like most of the major cities Dulce had been in, with the nicer, more genteel areas clustered near the palace and along the main roads. It was a shockingly big city though, and every time she asked someone for directions to an inn or a restaurant or whatever other locale might help her get a better lay of the land than what was charted on the maps she’d memorized in the palace, she got a different answer. There were multiple seedy neighborhoods, dozens of cheap inns, and restaurants ranging from pots behind someone’s home with ‘the best soup you’re going to find’ on up to pristine restaurants perched on the tops of the tallest buildings with priceless views of the sunset over the water.

Dulce promptly gave up on finding the Prince. For all she knew he wasn’t even in the city. Maybe he’d gone to those creepy caves again, or maybe his father had sent him out to sea on some rushed errand, or maybe he actually was in the palace still and just very good at playing hide and seek. It would make sense; he’d grown up there. At one point he had allegedly been a child –in fact she’d seen the maternal letters discussing it. 

Who had he played with? Probably his brother. Maybe some of those boys who now served him. Other nobles. Probably not that Namjoon fellow who he was so tense around. It was odd, the way he acted then, not like there was actual danger but that at any moment Namjoon was going to say something mortifying. Which couldn’t be true because the Prince didn’t seem to get embarrassed about anything, even things Nasimiyu said he ought to be deeply embarrassed by. 

Dulce shook the thoughts from her head. It didn’t matter. Nothing about the prince mattered today. Nasimiyu had sent her on a fucked up goose chase and instead she was going to use the time for her own purposes because she didn’t get any time for her own purposes these days. Maybe she wasn’t a girl with hobbies or friends or greater ambitions than staying alive and finding some drunk joy now and then, but if she wanted time to get into some trouble in a foreign city, that was her right! And Nasimiyu had dared to say Dulce got breaks –yeah, just enough to train in her room so she wouldn’t be caught totally flat-footed if she needed to actually do something for once instead of just shuffling along behind Nasimiyu and pouring her tea and tying her dress and fingering her when she called for it. 

Ugh. Nasimiyu had totally fucking domesticated her. But not inside, just in practice, so fuck that, fuck her, Nasimiyu needed her more than she needed Nasimiyu! Assuming Nasmiyu didn’t know about the leverage with her family. Assuming Prince Hamisi was lying about actually knowing where Dulce’s family was.

Furious, Dulce stepped into a tavern for a drink, which she enjoyed tucked into a corner at the window, watching the lazy morning crowd inside and the bustling working crowd outside. People watching was a joy to her. She was good at this sort of thing, at guessing someone’s intentions based on the speed of their step, their occupation from the lines on their face and hands, or whether they were professional or personal acquaintances with the person they spoke to at the side of the road. She’d built a life out of noticing and trading on these observations, but because she enjoyed it besides being good at it. It was a way of sampling stories when she rarely had the money, time, nor patience to actually read a book.

The first time Nasimiyu had seen her with one, she’d joked, “I didn’t even know you could read much less would want to.”

Damn, she was such a bitch sometimes! And Dulce liked that about her. Had liked that about her. Still sometimes liked that about her.

No Nasimiyu today, she told herself and left the tavern, delightfully warmed by the dark beer. She’d skipped breakfast but her belly felt full now. They never served that kind of dark beer in palaces because it made you fat, which the nobles had decided was out of fashion at the moment. 

Well the day was young! She’d get more beer later. She liked beer. For now she set off down any street she chose, one hand holding the shawl over her head, the other resting against but not gripping the blade in her pocket. Gripping the blade prematurely made it too easy to pull it out on accident when anything startled you and there was nothing that blew the cover of a “pretty young maid” faster than pulling a dagger when it wasn’t needed.

How much longer could Dulce pass as a “young maid”? The question came to her unwittingly as she passed several rows of dress shops and hatteries or whatever the fuck the rich people called them and a few jewelry shops. Clearly she was wandering too close to the monied parts of town and took a side street, but the windows still had glass and it reflected her image back to her. Twenty-seven. It was good she didn’t smile because it prevented the crow’s feet beside her eyes that ran strong in her family and would age her up. All the women she could remember in her family had those, and deep creases in their forehead and beside their cheeks. Laugh lines, stress lines, they had all kinds of names for aging. Dulce didn’t care about aging or looking young except for how it served her.

Honestly she kind of looked forward to being old –assuming she lasted that long– and people underestimated her on the opposite end of the age spectrum. The ‘Buela ‘Ssassin. It sounded like an amusing adventure book, something that would be at home on the Prince’s absurd collection of books for overgrown children.

She passed a bookshop. And impulsively, because wasting time felt like triumph, in she went. I didn’t even know you could read, much less want to. It was stupid how much luxury Nasimiyu enjoyed without recognizing it! Of course Dulce knew how to read and had on the unusual occasion when an interesting book entering her hands coincided with free time.

There didn’t appear to be anything particularly special about this bookshop compared to any of the others. It was probably middling compared to the shops in the city, not frequented by the well-off but not quite the slums either judging by the decor. The shopkeep looked at her closely as she entered but deemed her unworthy of attention and went to help someone else. 

Dulce roamed the aisles, avoiding anyone else easily as the bookshop was not too crowded at the time of day. The titles on the spines of the books meant nothing to her, so she migrated towards a display with covers, but she had no way of knowing what might interest her. It wasn’t like she was actually shopping for anything anyway. She was killing time. The thing she was the worst at killing, it turns out! She felt suspicious. She shouldn’t have come in here.

As she turned away, curtains in the back corner caught her eye. Dulce didn’t have to be a frequent shopper to know what those dark red curtains meant. The porn closet, the expensive stuff, not what you just found doodled in the back of some old book while some student pretended to study or on cards stuck in between the pages of books passed around as if the fine literature was what had people all in a tizzy.

Well, why not? She was already here and suspicious, she might as well see if there was anything interesting. There might even be something she could take back to make Nasimiyu laugh –or maybe for her own pleasure! She could enjoy some raunchy illustrations as much as the next woman.

She slid through the curtain into the small closet stupidly without checking first to make sure there wasn’t anyone already in there. There was, and the small space didn’t leave much room to maneuver around, as the man was heading towards the curtain from the other side anyway and they nearly collided. Dulce craned her neck out of habit to look up at the person she was just about to run into–

The fucking royal Prince of Yeonhalbi. Prince Seokjin. Right there in the dirty books closet.

For a moment they just blinked at each other, the recognition obvious and instant. It was no surprise he launched immediately into a nervous joke.

“Oh, um excuse me, Miss. I think the merchant and I have a different understanding about what it means to take a leak…” He blink-cringed with his whole body. Dulce had never seen anything like it.

She had a split second to make her decision to play along as if they didn’t know each other. She remained silent, bobbed her head, but stood her ground –as in, she moved to the side so he could exit past her, and then took his place. 

In the porn closet. 

“Fuck,” she muttered to herself. Of all the impossible fucking things Nasimiyu asked her to do… and she’d done it! She’d found the Prince! In a fucking porn closet in a random bookshop in Priva! It was absolutely absurd. As was the knowledge that he was now outside of the porn closet, which she was now standing inside. But of course she had continued into it because in the moment, her instinct was to keep going forward, not to turn tail and flee. Apparently that applied even when you ran into a royal prince in a porn closet! At least she hadn’t blurted out some half-assed lie that made her look ridiculous. 

Dulce didn’t want to appear shaken. She wasn’t! So what if the prince knew she was looking at porn? She was a young unmarried woman! Would it reflect badly on Nasimiyu? Well he definitely wouldn’t guess they were fucking now… 

She pretended to look at a few things in the hopes he would finish his shopping and then she could slip out after him and follow at a safe distance. But she didn’t actually know if he was buying anything or how long that would take, and he could simply vanish before she saw which direction he chose. So on second thought, she slid from the closet as well.

He was still in the shop, not far away actually, looking over a display of books that didn’t actually seem to interest him. He turned as soon as she stepped out, as if he’d been waiting for her.  To confirm it, he approached, looking nervous in a way a prince never should.

“Didn’t find anything that interested you?” he asked with an odd smile.

Dulce tilted her head and arched her eyebrow and adjusted the scarf around her head. She said nothing.

“Ah, well, um… me neither… looking for a gift for a friend– you know Jungkook, young man, big needs, um– is your Mistress here with you?” He looked around the shop. Ah, that explained the nerves.

“No.”

“Oh. Shopping for your own interests um– or hers! I don’t know…”

Dulce also looked around the shop as well. Now that she’d caught her breath, she noted something else odd: the Prince did not look like the Prince. He wore common clothes; not poverty, but maybe middle class: a low quality cotton shirt and a cotton brown vest and common pants and shoes that actually looked walked in. Not a speck of jewelry on him, and glasses; she’d never seen him in glasses at the palace except the time she’d spied him in his room, and these were thick-framed and clunky looking, not the thin-rimmed metal spectacles.

Her lips twitched before she asked calmly, already knowing the answer, “Where is your bodyguard, Ser?”

“Oh! Well, I can’t shop for a gift for him with him right underfoot….” Even as he said it, he shook his head, and she heard the curse under his breath. 

And Dulce realized she had accidentally done it. She had found exactly what Nasimiyu and Prince Hamisi had been hoping for: A secret –the Prince sometimes left the palace dressed as a commoner. A vice –the Prince shopped for pornographic material at this exact bookshop. A weakness –the Prince left the palace alone, unguarded, untended.

“And your valet?”

The Prince opened his mouth. He looked like a fool. Like a common, handsome, lying man used to not being questioned too closely, used to making problems disappear with a wave of his hand.

Would he try to have Dulce killed now? In his position, that’s precisely what she would do.

Drawing on every acting skill she had ever employed to get away with mischief as a child or adult, Dulce made her eyes very large and her lips very pouty and gasped, “I swear I won’t tell. Please don’t have me killed.”

The response was immediate and, from every sign Dulce knew to look for, utterly, confusingly, completely sincere.

“No!” he gasped and stepped forward, hands up as if she had the power here, or like he might be going to grab her arms. “Don’t think that, that’s not at all what will happen,” he insisted. He lowered his voice, glancing around as he stepped closer and repeated, “That’s not what’s going to happen. You aren’t in any danger from me, I promise on everything. In fact I have far more reason to fear you right now!”

“Why?” she asked, eyes wide, lip trembling for effect. Fuck, men were so fucking easy to manipulate. 

“Because…” He sighed slowly, and looked away, like he thought the line of his jaw and neck would have the same effect on Dulce that her big eyes and pouty lips seemed to have on him. It did not. “Because these days in which I escape my very important and very exhausting job of being…. Who I am… These days are important to me. So I’m asking if you can just find it in your heart to forget you have seen me here.”

She couldn’t help it. Dulce, who normally had such great control of her tongue, promptly asked, “Your pornographic material is that important to you?”

“What?!” The laughter erupted from his chest, a bubbling brook that broke through the branches of secrecy. His whole face lit up when he laughed, probably from mortification because his ears were now very quickly getting very red. “No! NO no no, I told you, that was for my bodyguard–”

She scrunched her forehead up and admitted, “That’s more suspicious than you just looking for yourself.”

“I…” He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re really dragging me over the coals here.”

“No. No, ser, I don’t mean to cast aspersions on your um, choices…” She froze, remembering who she was speaking to, and the role she was supposed to have. The line between playacting and sincere here was blurry at best. She started to curtsy–

He grabbed her arm, putting them right next to each other.

“Please don’t,” he whispered. He was awfully close. “I’m just another person out here.”

“Your disguise is not very convincing,” she whispered back. “I recognized you straight away.”

“Well… you’re more clever than the average person,” he suggested. “Besides, people see what they expect to see and no one expects to see that sort of man out wandering through a bookshop.”

“Particularly the pornographic part.”

He grinned and admitted, “I think you may be funny.”

“I’m not. That wasn’t a joke, it was the truth.”

He looked down at her, mouth twitching like he still wasn’t sure whether she was joking. She wasn't. She didn’t tell jokes, especially with princes who were going to die very easily now that she knew this about him. He’d never even see it coming. No one would. It was almost instinctual, the sudden impulse to point this out to him. He’d go out for a lark and never return and no one would even know where to look for him. 

“Your disguise isn’t very good either,” he whispered back.

“What?!”

She shook his arm off and took a step back, studying him more carefully now. No way was he suspecting that–

“You look like a noblewoman in disguise.”

She scoffed, “I most certainly am not and do not.”

“Agree to disagree.” 

“You don’t even have stubble,” she pointed out. “Your glasses aren’t chipped. Your hat is clean and not missing any threads.”

“You think lowly of commoners.”

“I do not, I just know they aren’t likely to have more than one hat.” Shit. Were they bantering? Dulce let her shawl fall around her shoulders to be less suspicious according to this suspicious prince and said, “Your secret is safe with me, your… commoner. Enjoy your pornographic material.”

“I sh–” He had clearly been about to say I shall and cut himself off and Dulce turned quickly away not to laugh. Because she did not laugh, especially not when running into a fucking royal prince– Nasimiyu pulled this kind of shit too! What was with royalty who thought they could just put on a commoner costume and enjoy a life free of burdens and stress as a commoner for a day of fun? They had no idea what it was like to live as a commoner! A jaunty cap and thicker glasses didn’t do it!

Annoyed and glad to pretend to be rid of him, Dulce went back to browsing. She felt a sudden need to not make it seem like she’d only come into this shop for porn and then fled at his appearance, but she also wanted to see what he’d buy and where he’d go. So she slowly walked around the shop, listening for the door, trying to look engrossed in the meantime.

They ran into each other again at the end of an aisle. She thought he had done it on purpose, because he didn’t look surprised as he asked,

“What are you looking for?”

“Do you work here?”

His teeth were so white and straight when he smiled, eyes scrunching up as he laughed, ��No, I haven’t gone that far, to get a job. I don’t know enough about books to get hired anyway. I like what I like and nothing else.”

“Um…” She pressed her lips together and glanced in the direction of the porn closet.

“No! Not that. I told you that’s for– no, I came here for something else.” He looked at her like he expected her to already know what that was. “The latest Kalamouche novel. Do you read those?”

“I don’t understand what that is. I don’t really get much time to read…”

“Oh. Um… right. Sorry, I forgot you’re…”

She gave him a wild look. He forgot. He forgot she was a servant and that servants have no freetime because they are busy earning their living by literally waiting hand and foot on people like him?

“Here, let me show you. The thing is, they have pictures so they’re quick to read.”

“I know how to read,” she gasped.

“I assumed that… uh, I would be surprised if Nasimiyu didn’t think education was important considering how strongly she talks about universal access.”

Well, Nasimiyu would be thrilled if he actually listened to the things she said! That was definitely more than she currently expected.

He looked so desperate for her to follow that she did. He led her to a table by the front that she had walked by because it was mostly empty, but he picked up one of a few books left and handed it to her. She recognized the title now from one of the collections on his shelf, though of course didn’t mention that.

“Um…” She opened it and flipped through. The art style was meaningless to her. It looked to be about a rodent. She wondered if that was why he liked it. She couldn’t tell much about the story from this book which was clearly later in the series, but he helped her out by suddenly launching into a premise for the whole thing. Though she knew this man very little, it sounded so completely like something he would like that she half expected he was writing them himself.

When she suggested this, he laughed, “No! I’m just lucky enough someone else does and I can enjoy them. They really amuse me. Do you ah, like stories like this? With pictures?”

“My lady doesn’t,” she admitted, mouth twisting.

“I didn’t think so,” he returned with his own uncomfortable smile. “But I asked about you.”

Her eyebrows raised. So did his, and she couldn’t tell if he was suddenly mocking her or equally as surprised or just mirroring her actions. It was a technique to get people to trust you. She knew that. Did he? He must. He was, after all, the royal prince. Was he possibly smarter than he acted or was it a fluke?

“I don’t know what I like,” she admitted vaguely. “I don’t read much.”

“Oh. Right. You came here for…”

“No! I didn’t actually know what was in there. I thought it might be valuable books.”

“Oh.”

“Not that I was going to steal!” she added, looking shocker and nervous and sincere, just to drive the lie home. “I was just curious.”

“Ah, yes, I see.”

He just believed her? But he must, because suddenly he looked incredibly uncomfortable again, before suggesting,

“Well I will buy you the first one and if you like it, you’ll have a whole series to love and it will make your birthday very easy!” He turned and grabbed a book from a shelf next to the table, continuing, “The new one just came out today and it’s nearly sold out, which is good. I always worry the author will stop.”

“Couldn’t you just patronize them yourself?”

“It’s incredible mysterious, no one knows who it is!”

Her eyes narrowed as she pressed, “But it’s not you.”

“It’s not,” he laughed. “I’d brag if I could draw that well! I don’t think I could imagine such a long story, either.” He had several books in his arms by this point, including a second of the new Kalamouche book. She tried to see what he was holding subtly, but he realized and showed her: a cookbook, a book on birds, a mystery novel, and a travel journal about Paloma. She frowned at that one and he explained, “For Taehyung.”

“The stablehand.”

“Is it the custom in Paloma to only call people by their titles?”

“No…”

“Oh. Is it just a struggle to remember our names?”

“No.”

He looked at her like he’d asked a question but he hadn’t so she waited too. 

“I understand it may take time for you to feel at home here,” he suggested. “But I hope no one is making you feel like you shouldn’t. You can call people by their names.”

“I feel uncomfortable with that until I’m friends with someone,” she suggested. “Otherwise it’s more professional.”

“Is it? It’s kind of…” He realized she was waiting for him to finish it. “Well if it makes you comfortable. Is there anything else I can buy for you while we’re here?”

“No, thank you.”

“I’m offering,” he said. “I do have um…” he leaned closer and whispered, “Nearly unlimited funds I am offering at your disposal.”

“The picture book will be enough. You shouldn’t even buy that. Is it a bribe?”

“A… bribe? Oh. Um, yes, please put in a good word for me but without telling anyone where I was or why.”

“Even my lady?”

“Oh.” He blinked, no doubt realizing the awkward predicament he had placed her in. 

“I thought that’s why you were buying me the book, as a cheap bribe.”

“No no, I thought you might like it.”

“Based on what? You don’t know anything about me. Ser.”

“Well you were nice to Lettie so I thought…”

Again the impulse struck her to say something without thinking twice about it and she admitted, “We eat rabbits where I grew up.”

“They eat them here too, Paloma isn’t special like that!” he laughed, not offended after all. She had not expected that to amuse him. “But don’t tell Lettie that.”

“You don’t think it’s important that she remember her place?”

“No. She’s a rabbit,” he said, as if this was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.  

“Only people then?”

“Obviously not since we’re pretending to be peers right now,” he pointed out in that whisper again. “You are the one who won’t call anyone by their name. Let me pay for the books and then I will release you to decide my fate.”

“Hm?”

“All I ask is that you read the book first and think of my simple request to guard this innocent secret and maybe if you enjoy the book, it will convince you…” He carried his selections over to the merchant’s counter, then called over, “Are you sure you don’t want anything else? I’m offering anything. Even…” He jerked his head towards the corner. “I won’t tell and I won’t judge.”

“No, of course not that. You just want a secret on me in return.”

He grinned and didn’t refute it, but did pull out a small leather money pouch and pay the vendor. He had another bag with him and tucked the books into it, but handed her the one he’d purchased. For her. 

As she reached for it, he pulled it back and insisted, “Promise me you’ll give it a chance.”

“What else will I do with it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know much about you, maybe you burn books for fun.”

“I don’t think Nasimiyu would have hired me then.”

“See, you do know how to use names,” he grinned, and handed the book over.

Fuck. 

He held the door for her, making it harder not to follow him straightaway. She hesitated, feeling that instinctive impulse to walk the opposite way, when in fact she couldn’t predict that because she didn’t know where he was going.

“Thank you for the book,” she mumbled, and bobbed her head, and set off to the left, just because it wasn’t the direction she’d come from. When she glanced over her shoulder, he’d watched her for a moment but turned right and started walking the opposite direction.

Dulce ran straight the fuck into another man. It wasn’t an important someone, not someone she knew, though she did recognize him from the tavern she’d had her beer in. He seemed to have been looking for her, though she thought he looked equal parts relieved and displeased to have found her. 

“Thought it was you,” the man said, looking down into her face. He wasn’t particularly tall, but certainly taller than her. Clean cut, dressed nicely, and with the sort of snobbishness that came from working for a good house –he was definitely staff, not yet another secret noble, but clearly someone who carried pride in their profession.

“Who am I?” she countered.

“You work for the princess.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you. I work for Lord Abel. His footman.” Lord Noah Abel was an older man, very wealthy, very quiet, usually seated around the periphery. She did not recall seeing this man and thought that even if he worked for Lord Abel, he was not actually a footman.

“How lovely for you,” she said, and pushed past him. But he caught her arm.

“Come on, then, let me buy you a drink.”

“No thank you.”

“Yeah. It’s not everyday the handmaid for the princess is out wandering around and we’d like to make your acquaintance. Nothing nasty unless you’re into it, just let’s have a chat.”

Dulce rolled her eyes. She knew exactly this kind of chat. They weren’t going to assault her in broad daylight or anything –she’d break them first, for sure– but they’d try to get some useful info, probably make some threats to keep her quiet.

“You shouldn’t tell me who you are and who you work for if you’re going to try and shake me down,” she pointed out.

“Shake you down? No no, you misunderstand. We just want to buy a drink for the Princess’ pretty handmaid. Maybe we can be friends who help each other out.” He was gesturing to two men to come over. How fucking annoying. How did they know her without her ever noticing them? She was disappointed in herself. She rarely missed a face.

Unless they were just totally lying about who they were, which was entirely possible, and in which case she would feel much less bad about what she was about to do if the man didn’t let go of her arm. The men all seemed truly servants in a household but then, so did she, so maybe they were just as much conmen as she was.

Someone grabbing her arm almost set her off completely; the drag as the person tried to pull her off made her instinctively dig her heels in and prepare for a fight.

“Come along, darling, we’re late.”

She recognized the Prince just quickly enough to not break his arm, and let him whisk her off without a glance back at the men until they were near the end of the block. The Prince’s stride was long and she had to rush to match it. When she looked back, she saw the men looking disappointed and heading back up the street, maybe back to the tavern.

“You met trouble within seconds!” the Prince lamented with a shake of his head as he tugged her around the corner. 

“They said they worked for Lord Abel.”

“I didn’t recognize them…”

“Do you normally recognize servants? You don’t have to keep hauling me, we’ve lost them. Slow down!”

He did at her cry, dropping her arm at once and peering down as if surprised they were still together.

“Thank you for your assistance but you didn’t need to risk being noticed,” she said, crossing them so he wouldn’t grab her again. “Or getting into trouble yourself. It would have been worse if they recognized you.”

He arched his eyebrow and demanded, “I was supposed to just let men bother you?” It made him look strangely mature.

“I’m a single woman. Men are constantly a bother. I would have sent them off momentarily.”

“I beg your pardon, are you annoyed that I intervened?” he asked, holding his hands up. His bag of books was slung over his shoulder. He looked like an intellectual, definitely not the sort of person who could help in a fight with the thugs those men might actually have been. But maybe that was deceptive because he was very tall and broad shouldered and he was trained in at least some forms of combat.

But yes, Dulce was annoyed. She was annoyed that he’d hauled her off before she could figure out who those men actually were. She was annoyed that he saw what he’d been told to see when he looked at her: a small helpless handmaid. She was annoyed she’d been ‘saved’ before she got to get some of her frustration out. Honestly, she could use a few punches thrown. 

“You’re in disguise,” she reminded him. “You shouldn’t risk it.”

“I’m baffled that you think I could just look the other way while you met trouble.”

“They were hardly trouble.”

“There were three of them and you are– I couldn’t possibly have just pretended not to see.”

“How did you see? Weren’t you walking the other way?”

Now he grinned, “I have good instincts.”

“To follow me?”

“Well… it can be dangerous for a young woman to wander the city alone,” he argued. He looked uncomfortable with the fact she’d questioned it.

“I’m a servant, I often walk cities alone, and I can handle myself. Thank you for your um, assistance, but it’s not needed.”

“I do not doubt that, however… now I feel obligated to…”

“You have no obligation to me.”

“You’re my lady’s favorite maid. If you meet with trouble inside my own city, I’ll never forgive myself and neither will she.”

“I hardly think a serving girl is worth all that,” she snorted, realizing he might be obnoxiously chivalrous about this. “Please continue your day and don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.”

The Prince looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t think of a way to do it. Or like he was constipated. Either way, he didn’t move away, just looked to the side like someone else would walk over and settle this standoff for them. But she needed him to go about doing whatever he was going to do so she could follow him and find out what that was.

“I have a lot of things to do and I don’t need a chaperone,” she added.

“Right, of course, me neither, but…” She wasn’t sure if he actually trailed off or if she’d just stopped listening, because there was something odd happening to the side. Curious, she was drawn towards it, towards the low tremorous voice and the plucking of guitar strings, but even more so the small monkey wearing a velvet jacket and a hat that hopped around, extending an arm or leg here and there like a dancer.

Dulce had seen a monkey before. It had been a trained pickpocket and very clever thief working with a brutal owner who called himself The Dentist and kept fingernail clippings to show how many homes he successfully robbed without waking the owners. None of it made sense but he was crazy in a frightening way but also very dead now and that was definitely not his monkey –also dead, though that one not by her hand. 

The Prince must have misunderstood her stare, because he strode right over with an absolutely unnecessary hand on her shoulder to propel her along too.

“Ah, you don’t have these in Marvono or Paloma? This little rascal has quite a fan following,” he explained, smiling at the little monkey hopping and dancing around.

“He’s not very good,” Dulce said, not sure what else to say.

The Prince laughed, “He is for a monkey! Do you dance well then?”

“No, but I don’t claim to either. I’m not asking coin for it…” The monkey kept running up to individuals and tipping his little hat to beg. Dulce knew enough about street performers to suspect the man of overworking and abusing his monkey, or playing up the pitiful aspect of it for sympathy, though that didn’t seem to be part of his ploy. The monkey seemed happy and well cared for and cooperative, amused by anyone who gave it attention.

“Here, put this on your shoulder,” the Prince said, pressing a coin into her palm. “Oh, unless you’re afraid…”

“I’m not afraid of this monkey,” she argued.

“Well then…” His eyebrows rose and he smiled in an obvious challenge.zSo much like Nasimiyu! That ego, that taunt, like they were proving something about you, like they knew anything about you!

She squared her jaw anyway, determined to use this as proof she didn’t need his chaperoning today. Honestly, what sort of prince would suggest something like that about a maid?! And while alone!

“It’s inappropriate for you to chaperone a maid,” she told him, then pressed the coin to her shoulder the way he kept gesturing. 

“All right, you’re right, after the monkey, I’ll leave you to your fate.”

“Is your city really so dangerous?!”

“Ah… well…”

He broke off when she inhaled sharply at the scurry of a little furry creature right up her skirt! It crawled over her braid and onto her shoulder and tried to pry the coin from her fingers. The Prince looked satisfied and she realized he must give coins to this monkey all the time to know this trick. He clearly wasn’t scared and no one would guess it by looking at her either but, truth be told, she’d rather it get off now. It could bite her face off with its next move. Scratch her eyes out. She wasn’t afraid, she was just informed. 

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” the Prince cooed as if she was afraid. He held his arm out in front of her and the monkey leapt easily onto it, then lifted its head and gave a little bow to Dulce before clambering up the Prince’s arm and then down his body and back to deposit the coin into a little box by the man playing music. Very well, Dulce noted. She’d rather just listen to the music than watch the monkey.

“Are you all right?” the Prince asked, eyebrows pinching together with concern that felt a little teasing. “You said you weren’t afraid…”

“I wasn’t. Was that worth your coin to you then?”

He was definitely laughing at her expense as he insisted, “It was.”

“Good then, goodbye–”

“No, wait, now I’ve ticked you off and you’ll run home and tell my secrets,” he said, sliding quickly in front of her. “Let me bribe– I mean buy you something else first… a distraction… do you like squid?”

“Squid.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t eat squid. And I don’t need you to buy me anything else. I don’t even really like food.”

It was possibly one of the stupidest things Dulce had ever said in her life. She meant she did not share his obvious passion for the culinary arts! 

“Food is food. I’ll eat what I can get,” she corrected before realizing that sounded way too street for a handmaiden. “I don’t have particular tastes.”

He nodded through all of this, which is what clued her in to how much she was talking. Why the fuck was she saying so much?! 

“I heard this radical idea that servants can have opinions too.”

“You seem to surround yourself with those who do.”

He looked absolutely thrilled by what she had meant as an insult and agreed, “Yes! Don’t get me wrong, their opinions are sometimes terrible and wrong and meant to annoy me on purpose but… yes. I thought you might be like that for… for your lady.”

“Like what?” Dulce asked suspiciously. She doubted the Prince’s relationship with his “friends” was anything like her relationship with Dulce.

“Someone who isn’t afraid to speak their mind even to authority. The other girls seem more, um…” He glanced at the sky for the answer. “Hey, what do you call a potato that copies all the other potatoes?”

“Huh?”

“An imitato.” His face split into that wide grin, then his lips pursed like he was laughing inside his cheek, so pleased with himself.

Dulce flat out did not know what to say to this man who was the royal prince but was making jokes to a handmaid on the street. And while she wanted to feel like this was suspicious, like maybe he was the sort of man who’d prey on the staff, he very much did not give that feeling. If he was flirting with her, he was very bad and weird at flirting –which granted she and Nasimiyu knew but she didn’t feel like he was trying to make any obvious move on her. Did he really think street food and bad jokes would convince her to keep his secret from her mistress?

“Ah, it’s funny…”

“If you have to tell someone it’s funny…”

“Ha! I think you may be funny too.”

“I’m not. Not even a little bit.”

He laughed.

“No, that’s not a joke. I’m very…” She trailed off because even she knew it would sound stupid to insist no, I’m a very serious person. “I’m a servant. We don’t have time for jokes and laughter.”

“Well the other maids laugh a lot, that’s what I meant.”

“Yes they think you’re very charming.”

“Ha! But not you nor your mistress. You see? I think you are a window into her soul more than anyone else in her circle and that is why I want to buy you squid. Come on, then.”

“I’m not telling you her secrets.”

“Does she have any?”

“She’s an intelligent woman, I would hope she does but I don’t know them.”

Dulce was following him. She did it before she realized she was doing it. To fix it, she pressed,

“What about you, do you have secrets?”

“Not ones I’m very good at keeping apparently.”

An evasion? Or just a joke?

“Where were you going today?” she asked, to see what he’d say, and because apparently the Prince didn’t mind her asking questions like this, at least out here. Was this a unique opportunity to learn more about him than she’d ever be able to in the palace? Chances were that she’d already compromised his day too much anyway; he knew he’d been found, so he likely wouldn’t go anywhere or do anything further suspicious. He might just go back to the palace. 

But also she obviously couldn’t just walk around the city with the fucking prince all day. 

He was already ordering something from a little cart though, so she pulled her scarf up and went to stand somewhat near him, taking the opportunity to look around at the people on the street. It baffled her that no one seemed to even do a double-take. The prince lived right there in the palace! His disguise wasn’t even very good! Did people really just not know what he looked like?  But even if you didn’t know he was the royal prince, surely you could look at him and tell something was unusual, that there was something remarkable about him. Regular men just didn’t look like… that.

“Does no one really ever recognize you?” she asked suspiciously when he came back.

“Not that I know of,” he shrugged. “Not until you. Here, this is… it doesn’t matter, try it and then I’ll tell you.” He handed her a stick with two obvious sections of some poor little octopus and several fleshy looking pieces that must be the squid, all of it coated in a shiny red sauce.

“Is it spicy?”

“Are you a toddler? Are you allergic? Try it before you keep asking these questions!”

She scowled at him and felt like not doing it now that he’d ordered like that, but he was laughing too, like scolding was just a joke to him. The food was dripping, and he was now making quick work of his own, so she slid a first chewy bite off the stick with her teeth.

It was spicy, yes, but not remarkably so. Sweet, too, and hot temperature wise so that she had to blow around it on her tongue. Squid was chewier than she had expected, but not nearly as chewy as the octopus. She could feel the suckers on her tongue.

“It’s the texture, right? It’s strange. There’s another place that has it with sesame seeds and it’s delicious but you bite into it expecting the chewiness and then you get the little crunch from the seeds and it always shocks me into thinking I’ve broken a tooth,” he said, cheek inelegantly stuffed with food. His mouth puffed into a kiss as he chewed, and Dulce hated that that’s what she thought it looked like, but it did! He took bites with his whole face, like he was afraid for even a drop of sauce to escape.

“What do you think?” he asked. “Too spicy?”

“It’s not very spicy.”

“That’s what I think! It’s too spicy for my father so we don’t get much spicy food there.”

“That’s a shame. Nasimiyu likes spicy food.”

“Ah.” His eyebrows raised. He chewed his next bite, clearly thoughtful. “I knew that but… yes. The kitchen can do different meals for different people…” He grinned and waved his stick at her. “That is useful, thank you.”

“You already knew that, you said.”

“Sometimes it helps to be reminded. I have a lot going on here, you know.” He tapped his head, leaving some sauce on his hat. Dulce didn’t point it out because it didn’t matter. Suddenly he looked at her again and demanded, “Do you actually like it or are you just saying it? You can be honest. I’m not anyone important right now and even if I was, you wouldn’t get in trouble for being honest.”

That was definitely not true, but still she admitted, “I like the squid more than the octopus. The suckers are strange. The sauce isn’t very spicy though.”

“You already said– oh, ok, you’re disappointed.”

“I didn’t say that,” she frowned.

“All right, I know. But you’re doing this of your own volition. I’m not making you try a spicy food so if it’s too much and it makes you cry… it’s not my fault. You are your own woman.”

“Am I?”

“Are you afraid of spicy food? Does Paloma have spicy food? I’ve heard that. So does Marvono.”

She was following him. He was talking a lot, undeterred by her silence. He’d grown quieter around Nasimiyu these days, Dulce considered, like comments bubbled out when he couldn’t help but he spent a good deal of effort trying to help it. He didn’t seem to bother quieting himself with her. She was only a servant, after all, not his betrothed, he didn’t need to impress her. Which made it even stranger he was insisting on leading her to another food vendor several streets away. If this was a bribe, he was bad at it; he wasn’t even finding out what she wanted in exchange for her secrecy! He was just talking to her about food.

“I don’t remember much about Paloma. I haven’t been there in a long time and I don’t like to talk about it,” she finally said as he pointed to a shop that claimed to have Paloman food. She could tell by the display in the window it was all wrong. 

“Oh.”

He stopped walking and looked at her, which she didn’t appreciate.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Do you miss it? Or not miss it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re very secretive.”

“I’m a maid. There’s not much to know,” she said, praying she wasn’t about to have to concoct some elaborate lie to get him to stop asking about her. “My name and my position, that’s all a servant needs.”

“No one in this conversation believes that but even if one of us did, I don’t even know your name. I mean I know what you’re called.”

“That’s my name.”

“Dulce? It’s your whole name? Two three?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, in um, in the local dialect, Dul-set, it means two-three. It’s similar.”

“Oh.” Dulce didn’t know that. 

The prince didn’t seem to have anything more to say about it. Probably her lack of conversation was boring him and that was fine because she wasn’t the one trying to make a party out of this anyway. They’d arrived at another stall though, another one the Prince seemed familiar with as he wove his way through the busy streets. He came back with two bowls of different things.

He handed her one and said, “Tteokbeokki, do you know it?”

“No.”

“Very fine Privan cuisine but, ah, my father doesn’t like spicy so…”

“Is it more squid?”

“No, it’s rice cakes in a gochujang soup… this stall is very good for Privan food, the real local stuff.”

“Not the stuff you serve at the palace, that’s what you mean by real?”

The Prince nodded, boldly stealing one of the rice cakes using a toothpick and popping it into his mouth. Dulce found this notable, that the Prince looked to the food the people ate in the city instead of what was served in the finest restaurants as “real.” Even being aware of the differences was something in itself. He wasn’t wrong, but how many nobles actually walked the streets and ate the same food normal people did and recognized it as culturally defining? Even Nasimiyu was picky about what she ate outside of home…

“It’s spicy,” he warned as she picked up a second toothpick and speared one of the round little cakes. It was chewy in her mouth, more of a solid effort than the squid, but less rubbery. The soupy sauce had a kick to it that built. It was nice! It took over her mouth but only barely touched her sinuses.

The Prince watched her closely before determining, “You don’t think it’s maximum spicy.”

“It’s good though,” she admitted. “I didn’t know you had spicy food like this here.”

“Be careful, it will build. We use gochujang in a lot of things… ah, well, not in the Main Hall,” he admitted with a smile and… a wink? She didn’t understand the wink but she didn’t ask because this was all so strange it was starting to feel normal. This was the royal prince of Yeonhalbi and it was looking like he was even less bothered by it than Nasimiyu was about her own title. 

“Is that gochujang too?” she asked, pointing to the small dish he had. 

“No, it’s chicken. It’s… it’s very spicy. I wanted you to try this but… what if you die? I want to say you belong to yourself and can decide for yourself but I can’t have that on my conscience.”

“Die from a flavor?”

“It’s really spicy.”

“Well I want to try it,” she said.

“I can’t recommend that.”

“You suggested it.”

“It’s not a challenge– ah, are you like that? Someone suggested it and now–”

“I’m not like anything,” she frowned, and reached forward with her toothpick to take a piece of the chicken like they were old familiar friends and she wasn’t taking food from the Prince of Yeonhalbi’s dish. Prince Hamisi would shit a whole brick house to see her right now!

“Do you have any brothers?” he asked.

She paused, chicken halfway to her mouth, and asked slowly, “Why do you ask that?”

“Ah, it’s just a theory… I wondered if women who have brothers are more likely to feel like everything is a dare.”

“What are you basing that on?”

“A guess,” he shrugged. “Am I right?”

“Is that why you eat like someone is taking your food away?” she countered. “You’ve never known hunger but that’s how you look.”

She worried that would wound him, though not enough to stop her from saying it. Instead it made him laugh. He crossed a hand in front of his face, laughing so hard at this.

“What? You say that to me? You think I act like it’s going away? Maybe I do! You think they let me just eat anything I want? It’s hard work looking fit like that. My tutors don’t let me eat shit! And we don’t get to use the right spices or not enough spices so I have to sneak all the good food in the kitchen. Then I come out here to eat and now you’re taking my food too!”

She’d just been about to finally put the chicken in her mouth because she was coming to realize that these tirades he went on seemed to be nothing more than a performance. A joke. She didn’t know whether he was trying to get a laugh in an awkward way or it was just how he spoke when he got fired up about something but it was all the same to her.

Except that particular comment made her pause. She doubted he meant anything serious by it, but he was the Prince, and as far as he knew she was a maid who had just taken his food. 

Just as quickly he said, “No, eat it.”

“I’m sorry. I–”

“No! No, I got it for us to share. Eat the chicken.”

He couldn’t actually mean that. That was so odd! Who the fuck shared chicken with their betrothed’s maid? She couldn’t even wonder if it was an attempt at seduction, some weird sick fantasy, because no one tried to seduce a maid with chicken, right? This wasn’t wine or juicy fruit or even jewels thrown at her feet.

It was the spiciest fucking chicken she had ever eaten.

It was already building from the first bite, but not yet excruciating, so she reached for another because the prince did. And another. He warned her to go slow but he wasn’t slowing down eating either, shoving chicken into his mouth like that little dancing monkey was going to run over and wrestle it away. Or maybe like he was afraid Dulce really would take it all.

They ate the chicken until it was gone, until their eyes were red and watering, their noses were watering, their lips were on fire.

The prince was laughing and crying, “Is it hot enough?”

“It’s a little spicy,” she admitted, wiping her nose with her sleeve. He was doing it too, laughing harder now, tears streaming down the sides of his face.

“Dulce! “

She hadn’t expected him to say her name, much less shout it. She looked up, startled. 

“How can you say that? You’re crying! Ah, it burns so much,” he laughed, wiping at his face. “Shit, my eyes!!”

“Did you get it in your eye?!”

“I’m going to go blind– Shit.”

“Are you serious or is this another joke?”

“Do you have a, um, handkerchief or something–” he asked, yanking off his glasses.

She dove away and, at the stall, simply grabbed a wooden cup of water, not caring who it belonged to. She smelled it and tasted to make sure it was water as she carried it quickly back, ignoring the shout behind her. Back at the prince, wiping furiously at his weeping eye, she slipped onto her toes, grabbed the back of his head and pressed the cup to his eye and ordered,

“Head back.”

To her surprise, he did it. Head back, throat totally exposed, supported poorly by a woman balanced on her toes. The water ran down across his eyes and down the side of his face and onto his sleeve. Once the cup was empty, she nudged his head up and let him take the cup.

“You can’t just steal things from my shop!” the man yelled, grabbing Dulce’s arm.

“It was an emergency.”

“That doesn’t mean–”

“So sorry, good man,” the Prince interrupted, blinking rapidly but wiping at his eye more slowly now, with a clean handkerchief he must have found in his own pocket. “I’ll pay you for the water. She’s right, it was an emergency.”

The man looked at the prince for a moment. The very same man who a moment ago had sold the prince food, as far as Dulce could tell. But it was obvious in his blink that he at least had a suspicion as to who this might be.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. Nevermind about the water.”

“I insist –ah, the chicken is so good but the spice got in my eye.”

“I’m so sorry–”

“Thank you, bye,” Dulce said, and this time she was the one to grab the prince’s arm and lead him away from the area. Quickly.

“I’m still half-blind,” he admitted.

“Is it better though?”

“Yes. Yes, I think you saved my eye…”

“What were you doing rubbing it after you ate spicy food?”

“I forgot… no, don’t turn the scolding on me, that’s my job…”

She kept them moving until they were several streets away. She had no clue where they were now.

“You’re faster than I expected,” he mused, then, “The man recognized me, you think?”

“I don’t understand, they’re just glasses. It’s not a good disguise! So why didn’t he recognize you before?”

The prince slid his glasses back on and looked at her. His eye was still very red and watery and he was blinking a lot and his face and neck were red and sweaty, but he did seem to be in less pain. 

He looked at her and admitted, “It was worth it. That chicken was so good, wasn’t it?”

“How can you say that?”

“At least it was only my eye. Lower back pain is the worst.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a real pain in the ass– ah, is the language– no, I think it’s ok in front of you…”

“Are the jokes how you cope with things?” she asked because why not, her whole reason for sticking around was to ask questions.

“Jokes as a coping mechanism? Huh… maybe,” he considered, looking up and wiping at the last tears on his face. “You know, it wasn’t the chicken that got into my eye, it was the tteokbokki. I think the chicken would have actually blinded me. It’s not just for coping though… I just think it’s good to laugh and word plays are funny…”

“Your staff don’t think they’re funny.”

“Oh they do, usually. Sometimes. They just are trying to break me of the habit because they know some people don’t…” He trailed off. They both knew who he was talking about. “But you do.”

“Me?”

“You almost laugh sometimes.”

“I do not.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t have a sense of humor,” she told him. “A maid doesn’t need one.”

“A maid also doesn’t have opinions on food either but you liked the tteokbokki and the squid and the chicken but not the octopus,” he argued. “There are hotter foods here –a special pepper. We’ll try it another time. It really will make you sick…I mean, not you, because you won’t think it’s that spicy. Just a little burn,” he teased. “But it’s not something you eat unless you’re comfortable vomiting in front of your dining partner and it burns on the way up as bad as it did on the way down–”

“I think you should go back to the palace. Your eye is still very red.”

He let out a deep sigh and shook his head, “No, I won’t go back for this, not yet. I don’t get to do this very often. I’m almost done crying.”

“Are you?”

“I’ll say I got into a fight. You should have seen the other guy, he was massive, but I was fast and quick–”

“I don’t even know where we are,” she admitted, looking around. She could find their way back, but it was better to pretend to be lost. Actually she had an uncanny ability to navigate, like she could feel which way was north no matter which way she got lost. That had saved her skin a few times, for sure. 

“I’m not going back yet.”

“You’re in pain and it’s leaving you disoriented. You look like you’re about to start shadow-boxing on the sidewalk.”

“Ah…” He let his hands drop which made her think he might actually have been about to do it. Surely not. This man was so strange! He seemed too lanky and in poor control of his long limbs to be a good boxer; watching it would make her cringe.

“You want to go back?” he asked her. “I can escort you back.”

“No I don’t need to be escorted, you need to go back for medical attention–”

“Yes, all right. Let me show you something first. It’s on the way.”

Let me show you something. It’s on the way. Only a fool idiot girl would hear a man say that and think he meant anything good by it. Dulce was not a fool idiot girl. She was a grown ass woman on a mission, in a precarious situation right now with a poorly-disguised prince out and about in the city, and potentially half-blinded now. 

She was a spy. She was learning. She was trying to make sense of this incredibly strange man who seemed to pull a bad joke from his ass anytime he wanted to change the subject or break the silence. This privileged man who annoyingly played dress-up as a commoner for a day and was suddenly taking her on a gastro-tour of Priva instead of whatever his original purpose for coming into the city had been. She still needed to try and understand that.

So, for many reasons, when he gestured for her to follow and set off south even though the palace was north, she followed.

***

It was not in the direction of home. He wondered if she knew that; she didn’t know the city yet, but she seemed to notice things a lot so he didn’t want to assume she couldn’t tell they were walking in the wrong direction. But she didn’t say anything, just kept her gaze constantly leaping around, like she couldn’t quite stop the need to be always on alert in case her lady needed something. What an exhaustive state of being. He came into the city sometimes because he could turn off that role and responsibility, but walking next to her made him realize that even that was a privilege. She wasn’t here being anyone but herself, and in fact he may have made things harder for her by interrupting her day away from noble assholes. 

Once again he berated himself that he should have already parted ways for her. Of all the maids in the palace she probably could handle herself the best; at least she seemed competent and capable and a little intimidating despite her short stature. But what could she actually do in the face of men harassing her? He wouldn’t be able to sleep well tonight if he had just wandered her off and left her alone; it didn’t matter if that’s the sort of thing she dealt with every other day, today she had the poor misfortune to cross paths with him and so she was going to have to accept a little of his help in exchange for whatever he could glean from her that might help him in his efforts to woo Nasimiyu. The fact she was obviously a closet foodie and he could find joy in sharing some of his favorite local foods with her was just an added bonus. 

Not that he was thinking of Nasimiyu much as he led her through this little square and its performers and games. Despite the knowledge that this woman was a very close confidante of his betrothed, he felt an undeniable ease around her that did not apply to her mistress. Was it because she always seemed a little transparently confused by him, neither quite abhorred or amused? Was it because when he made dumb puns she seemed to note and judge them bluntly in the moment, letting him effectively distract from whatever he’d felt like distracting from? Was it just because impressing a servant, even a well-placed one, just wasn’t as important as winning the heart of his future love? Or was it because, like most of his friends, she seemed sparingly aware of rank and role? She seemed to have missed that schooling where handmaidens learned deference and to keep their eyes down and remain unnoticed until needed. She looked around curiously and asked questions or made quiet asides and she hadn’t blushed and giggled and run away when his friends were overly familiar with her in the kitchen. She wasn’t his, but as he spent more time with her, he was starting to feel like she was. In the sense of one of his friends who were actually servants and probably had to put up with them because their livelihoods depended on it but didn’t seem totally miserable about it!

He thought it boiled down to the feeling that Nasimiyu was disappointed him, but Dulce hadn’t expected anything of him and so was overall neutral on him. She wasn’t rude as a servant or anything but she just didn’t seem to care much that he was a prince and to be honest, he liked that in a servant. In a person, even! She didn’t smile or giggle like the other servant girls, she was utterly uncharmed by him and thus unlikely to help him much with Nasimiyu, but the way her lower lip pushed up and her eyebrows pushed in when he made a joke she thought was stupid was pretty amusing. 

Apparently the other servants around the palace were starting to call her Cold Cunt because she didn’t get along with any of them, hadn’t made a single friend, and didn’t do idle chatter. But she didn’t seem unfriendly to him, just unbothered. Her compassion when he got the gochujang in his eyes proved she wasn’t without feeling. Her insistence she had no opinions only to then hint at firm opinions made it seem more like she was merely a private person. Maybe shy!

Seokjin could understand that. And maybe she just didn’t like people or being around them much, which he could sort of understand too. He came into the city to be alone because he was nobody here despite the crowds, and when the noise and traffic got to be too much, he’d find a little cafe or bookshop to hide in for a while, or go for a walk on the sea wall and sit on the sand and stare out across the horizon his mother had loved so much. Being alone in the crowded city was different than being alone in his room. He liked both. 

Today he wasn’t alone though and that was ok. He was enjoying himself after that initial awkward encounter in the erotic section –look, he was a young man with needs! Needs he needed to be more careful about now that he was a soon-to-be-married man. He just didn’t want Nasimiyu and Dulce thinking about him in that light… some porn-obsessed, insatiable man…

But after that, with each opportunity in which they could have parted ways and did not, it became easier to trust the ease. For one day she seemed amenable to mostly forgetting he was a prince and he was mostly amenable to forgetting she was his future wife’s handmaid and it wasn’t like anything harmful was being done. They were watching a monkey dance. They were eating food. He was showing her around the Game Square.

“What is this place?” she asked him. “Are they celebrating something?”

“No, it’s always here. See, they perform or there’s food or toys to buy, or you can try your hand at any of those games to win.”

“What kind of games?”

“Do you like games?”

“No,” she predictably answered. Her face was stoic but she had very big dark eyes and they were looking all around, taking in everything. Seokjin only ever walked straight through here because it felt a little silly to be in a place like this on his own. He tried to envision bringing Nasimiyu here and realized he couldn’t predict whether she would like something like this. That was the thing, she was impossible to predict. If he could figure out the consistency behind what she liked or didn’t, he could better service her – in romantic affections! Not in– well eventually in–

“Look there,” he said, nudging Dulce’s arm. He didn’t have anything actually in mind, but they walked together behind a row of people lined up at various stalls trying to knock empty bottles over with a lightweight ball, or throwing darts, or even axes.

“What do they win?” Dulce asked him.

“Depends on the game. Why, do you want to play something? It costs to play but I have some money left.”

“No,” she said simply. But her ‘no’ was different from Nasimiyu’s no. It just felt like a no, not like your whole soul belonged in the trash with your suggestion.

Maybe he was reading too much into a no from Nasimiyu.

Maybe he wasn’t. 

They stopped to watch two men on unicycles juggling knives with fiery sticks in their mouths. The crowd had formed a circle around them –a wide circle, because their balance didn’t seem to be very good and they looked nervous which made the tossing of knives seem irresponsible in a crowd.

“You’re not impressed?” Dulce asked him.

“Hm?”

“You look angry…”

“Oh, I just think they’re stupid,” Seokjin admitted in a rush. Her eyebrows raised and he swore he saw the slightest lift at the corner of her mouth. “I mean! They are stupid to do this in the middle of the crowd like this, it looks like they might accidentally throw a knife at any second. Imagine we’re just standing here talking and suddenly–”

Her hand shot out. Seokjin gasped and leapt backwards, heart nearly bursting from his chest. His garbled shouts of horror and the way he curled away earned cries and panicked shouts from others as everyone leapt away from the point of danger.

Dulce looked at him like she hadn’t expected that reaction.

“You caught it?!”

She opened her hand. No knife. Her mouth did something funny then, pursing into a tight circle, twisting to the side, then frowning.

“Are you laughing at me?! Is that what you look like when you laugh?”

“I didn’t know…”

“Aish, you almost killed me! My heart is pounding in my chest,” he cried, boldly resting his forearm on her shoulder to seem casual and amused about the whole thing despite his breathless embarrassment. “Is this your humor? You think it’s funny to scare me to death? I don’t know how fast your reflexes are! My life flashed before my eyes and it was not impressive at all!” As his panic cleared, he realized she had just done something playful, she’d made a joke, at the same moment he realized she looked like she completely regretted it. “No! Haha it was funny. It was so funny.”

“You look like you’re having a heart attack,” she admitted.

“I know, you got me good!”

“I’m um… sorry…”

“No! Haha, I love a good joke. Come on, everyone is staring at me,” he said, and walked away. He didn’t miss that she looked concerned now and that was kind of neat. He never had expected her to ever look the least bit concerned at him and now this was the second time in a day. Apparently guilt made her a little visibly softer.

He stopped them again not far off so he could let his heart rate come down.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think about the fact you would be extra jumpy about um… death jokes…”

Her whole demeanor and apology was just about the funniest thing Seokjin had ever seen from her. It was like a small, quiet, stoic woman had opened a window and over-the-top dark humor had erupted out faster than she intended. 

“You made my heart race faster than any woman ever has!” he joked, waving his hand in front of his face, laughing harder to put her at ease so she wouldn’t think she had actually crossed a line. “I like it. I knew it. I knew you were funny!”

“I’m not funny,” she insisted.

“Making me think I was about to die by a knife to the face –it’s very cleaver!”

“Cleave– ugh,” she sighed. 

“You made me think I was going to die and you say ‘ugh’ to my joke!” he laughed. It wasn’t performative this time, not meant to put her at ease, he wasn’t thinking anything at all about it except that her shame about her joke was really funny. She looked torn on whether it was all right she’d expressed disgust at his joke and that was funny too! “You owe me a good laugh now! Now I see that you’re funny!”

“I think my attempt at a joke proved I’m not…”

“I’m laughing!”

“I think that’s called shock and trauma?”

“Attempted joke, attempted murder…” He shook his head, wishing he’d been able to think of a joke connecting the two. “Well at least now I feel safe. You won’t tell anyone about my secret because I’ll tell them you’re funny.” 

“No one will believe you.”

“Ah, you’re probably right…” he sighed, distracted because that twitch at the corner of her mouth was more pronounced this time. A smile. Probably relief that he wasn’t flying off the handle. Why would he? He could see the humor in an over-the-top joke! Just like he appreciated she hadn’t made him feel like too much of an idiot for reacting so loudly when he was pretty sure he was about to die! “Ok let’s see what else is here, you can make more jokes about how I die.”

“I… don’t think that would be appropriate…”

“Why? I’m just a normal man.”

“That’s still murder…”

“Oh.” He snickered. “Right. That’s true. Ah, look at that!” He went in closer to watch at a slatted rope ladder strung from the ground to a wooden pole across a bed of hay. The ladder connected at a single point on the ground and on the pole, so that when people tried to climb it, the ladder flipped and they were dumped down into the hay. “This game is harder than it looks because the ladder flips.” She just looked at him; he could practically read her mind yeah, obviously dumbass. “I used to try this all the time when I was a kid,” he told her. He didn’t know why, maybe because she hadn’t said anything in response. Maybe his brain was still jittery from the moment he thought she had just saved his life by catching a knife inches from his face. “I tried to get my parents to set one up for me to practice with at home.”

“They wouldn’t?”

“No. I tried building one myself but I never figured it out before I got hurt enough on it my parents took it down..”

“So you never mastered it? It’s not impossible to do.”

“It’s easier for women. Your center of gravity is low. My shoulders are too broad –ah, it’s a blessing and a curse.”

Dulce shook her head, brow knitted like she couldn’t believe he thought that and insisted, “A man can still do it. You just have to distribute your weight properly.”

“Yes but as you move? If I go this hand and this foot, it twists.”

“Then your weight is still too much in your back foot, and you aren’t holding yourself stable with your other hand.”

He crossed his arms and argued, not sincerely, “It’s impossible. It can’t be done. I’ve never seen anyone succeed.”

“Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t make it impossible.”

“Then prove me wrong.”

“No,” she said simply, and turned to go. That final, unbothered ‘no.’ Belatedly she added, “You can also just walk right up the middle if your balance is good.”

“Now you have to do it,” he demanded. “Go on, I’ll buy your turn.”

“I can’t do it, I’m wearing a skirt. I’ll trip on it.”

“Walk up the middle.”

“No.”

“Come on, I’m buying all your food today,” he goaded. She shook her head. “Please. Dulce. I want to see this. I’ve never seen it. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me.”

“There must be plenty of people in this city who can do it.”

“Including you!” he pointed out. “That’s what you’re saying, yeah? So come on! Let’s see it.”

“Why would I do that? I don’t want the attention.”

“I’ll keep you safe.”

“You don’t even know what that means,” she countered, and her lips pulled into a tight line. 

“Maybe I can’t catch a knife or climb this ladder but I’m not completely incapable. Show me how it’s done and I’ll…” He looked around, trying to think of a good reward. “I’ll buy you whatever you like as a prize. And we’ll run away before that child running the thing makes a big deal about it.”

She gave him a look. Her eyes rolled up to look at the sky. But she hadn’t walked away yet. He wasn’t sure which part of his offer enticed her, or if she was just playing at modest. She also could be lying, he considered. And now he was calling her bluff.

“Fine,” she said. “And then you have to try it too.”

“What? No no, I’ll look like an idiot. What if I land funny? I could break my neck. I could break my glasses and then everyone will know who I am!”

“All right. I’m going home–”

He grabbed her arm, “Fine. You show me first and if you do it, then I will too.”

“Slowly, like a… you do one leg and the opposite hand at a time and keep your weight high and slightly off,” she said like he was already on the thing.

“You first. My good man!” he called to the child running the thing, who was no doubt being watched over by a frightening adult nearby. “Both of us will try. What do we get if we succeed?”

“A pat on the back,” the smart-ass kid said. At Seokjin’s arched eyebrow, the kid laughed, “Ya, you think you can do it? If you do, you get your money back or you get a toy but isn’t it more important to impress your lady friend?”

“We’ll do it,” Seokjin said and handed over the coins. Then he rubbed his hands together and pretended to stretch his arms and legs as he guestered Dulce to go first.

It was truly the strangest thing he’d ever seen.

Dulce rolled the waistband of her skirt to lift the hem a little higher. Her eyes narrowed when someone whistled. Seokjin glanced to see who but people weren’t really paying attention to them so it was hard to identify unless he wanted to miss what she was doing because without any further hesitation, she put her foot in the middle of the next rung and then the next and then the next and walked like that right to the very top where she grabbed onto the pole.

“What the fuck,” Seokjin murmured. She’d moved like a cat, like a smooth, unbothered cat walking along a narrow fence top. There had been no hesitation in her step. She made it look easy! Like the ladder was actually anchored well. Her hands had been in the air for balance, and she was quick to grab the pole at the end as if she’d only held off the inevitable tumble until she could reach something secure. But she had done it like it was nothing, just right up to the top.

“What was that?!” he cried as she slipped down between the rungs and then picked her way through the hay to return to him. “Are you a handmaid or a cat? Is that what they teach you in handmaid school?!”

“There’s no such thing as handmaid school.”

“No?”

“They just toss you in and you sink or swim– you already knew that,” she interrupted herself. There was a darker shade to the tops of her cheeks and around her eyes, Seokjin was sure of it. Either from exertion or the shouts and claps that her success had won, he couldn’t say. “It’s your turn.”

“This is a test for whether I have enough dignity not to embarrass myself in front of you,” he suggested. “I hope you’re ready for the secondhand embarrassment. I won’t be embarrassed, it will be all on you because you’re the one I’ll wave to after I fall.”

“Don’t fall. Just take your time to shift your weight but not so much time that you start to shake. Make your hand and your foot work together. Move your weight like it’s another limb.”

“Your assumptions about my coordination are…” The reality that he was about to embarrass himself again was settling in. He didn’t look at her, knowing he’d be blushing because he hadn’t thought about how everyone would be watching now that she had so easily succeeded. “Hold my hat.”

He approached the rope ladder and already felt like an idiot as he planted his feet on the bottom rung and gripped further up with his hands. His long arms and legs made him look ridiculous, he knew that. His broad shoulders made the ladder look even tinier. And despite Dulce’s ease, the ladder was wobbly as hell. Seokjin muttered curses under his breath as he struggled from the first step to coordinate his opposite hand and feet to work together. It was too easy to overcorrect when the ladder began to wobble.

“Too slow,” she called. “You can’t do it if you don’t believe you can do it.”

He lifted his foot and hand, slammed them down further up and did his best to stay calm and shift his weight for balance. He didn’t fall. But he looked up and saw how many more steps it would be.

Damn.

He did it again, slowly but surely. And a third. The wobbles got stronger as he got higher; his heart leapt into his throat at the strong teeters. Every second felt like he was going over.

Six rungs. He made it six rungs! That was one more than halfway to the top and felt like real success. More embarrassing was the little yelp he let out as he suddenly found himself clinging upside down to the ladder. There was no graceful way to save it except to let go and land with a scratchy thud in the hay cushion below –which was not nearly as cushiony as he recalled from childhood. 

Everyone had moved on when it was clear he wasn’t going to make it, but he celebrated his own achievement, telling Dulce before she could be disappointed, “I think that’s the best I’ve ever done!”

“Oh!”

Her raised eyebrows and neutral expression he thought were an attempt to be supportive, which had him laughing, “You can pretend I did well!”

“You made it more than halfway. That’s well.”

“I did your technique.”

“But then you overcorrected,” she nodded. “You lean too far when you wobble.”

“Is wobble the technical term?” he asked. 

She suddenly pulled back and blinked –he’d never seen that expression on her before– and said, “I don’t know. It’s…a word.”

“It’s just a very silly word for a serious maid to use.”

“Well falling ass first into a pile of hay is a rather silly thing for a, um… person to do,” she countered. “Can we go now?”

“I knew you would be more embarrassed about it than I am!”

“I’m not embarrassed –I shouldn’t have let you goad me into–”

The child who’d taken their money ran over calling, “Wait! Don’t forget your prize, lady.” He thrust a little cheap wooden statue into her hand. 

“A hedgehog,” Seokjin said, tilting his head. “That’s cute.”

“Do you want it?” she asked, holding it out. Quickly she added, “I have nowhere to keep something like this.”

“You don’t even get a bed in the servant’s wing?” he asked, belatedly realizing how kind of shitty the joke sounded.

“I do, for sleeping in, not for filling with wooden statues of hedgehogs.”

“Well you only won the one.”

They both looked down at it, but then he glanced at her face, curious why she seemed so odd about the thing. Didn’t even a maid find some pride in a prize she won? Not that the trinket was anything remarkable but she had done something impressive. Really, really impressive. Scary impressive.

“How did your balance get that good?” he asked.

“I wanted to be a cat when I was a little girl.”

“Are you… making another joke?”

“You can’t tell if I am or not?” she asked. She pocketed the hedgehog. If she had been going to throw it away, he would have kept it, but he was glad to see her keep it after all. “You also promised me something if I embarrassed myself like that.”

“You didn’t embarrass yourself, you did it! And I even covered for you, right? No one will remember how smoothly you did that because they’ll remember me falling on my ass.”

“You still have hay in your hair.”

“Where?” He ruffled his fingers through it, chasing out a couple tickly pieces. Maybe it wasn’t surprising that she didn’t reach up to help, but she was a maid so he wasn’t sure if that was a sign she was still uncomfortable around him or just careful. She handed him his hat, which he slapped on, then sighed deeply, “All right, my word is my bond. What do you want?”

“That.” She pointed to a little bakery-cafe they had already passed, but at his nod they doubled back. He wasn’t sure why she had even noticed this place or what drew her to it, but the smell of coffee and baked goods floating out of the door was indeed a draw.

“All right, anything you want,” he conceded. They stepped inside and a rush of relief rolled down Seokjin’s spine. It wasn’t just nice smelling; inside was a little darker, calm and quiet. After the busy bustle of the ladders, it was wonderful to feel a little more private. Only then did it occur to him he usually would have sought out a space like this much sooner in the day. It was welcome now.

“I don’t know what to get,” she admitted as they stepped up to a counter. “Don’t you have opinions about it?”

“Ah. I see. You need me to guide– all right. We want that pie,” he impulsively told the baker. “Do you have forks? We’ll eat it here. And… two chocolate coffees. Yes?” He glanced at Dulce but she was just looking around the cafe like she wanted to memorize it. 

The woman told them to have a seat and she’d bring it out; Dulce picked a table in the corner by the glass window.

“This is a nice place,” she mused. She got this airy note to her voice when she was impressed, that’s what Seokjin thought it meant when her voice did that. 

“Do you, um, like places like this?”

“I don’t go into places like this,” she said. 

“Oh. Not even with Nasimiyu?”

“She likes…” She trailed off.

“Ah, please tell,” he chuckled under his breath. “You see everything so you can see I am… rope ladders are not the only thing I would appreciate your unique perspective on.”

“She likes busier, more active things,” Dulce answered. 

“Like balls.”

“Yes. Or busy dinners with lots of people to talk to. She likes to be in the thick of things.”

“Not a quiet bakery-cafe. Does she like pies?” Seokjin asked as the woman brought it over and set it down on the table along with two small plates and forks. 

“Tarts. Pies with custard filling, not fruit. But you should learn these things from her.”

He sighed and nodded, “I know. I don’t mean to put you in an awkward place. I know your loyalty is to your lady, I just want to make sure I do everything I can for her to be happy here. We want the same thing, you and I, so anything you can tell me helps us both…”

Dulce seemed to consider this for a moment, meticulously spooning a mixture of filling and crust onto her spoon before she suggested, “Sometimes it’s difficult to predict what will make her happy. That’s not your fault.”

He nodded at this but inside something relaxed. So that was true! He wasn’t wrong she was hard to predict if even her own maid said that! He tried to think of other things to ask, if Dulce was willing to answer them, but she beat him to it, asking him,

“What kind of things do you like?”

The question sounded so careful, so innocent. She took a bite of the pie and then went very still.

“Oh, is it bad?” he asked, and quickly took a bite to see. But no, it was incredible. “Oh!” he groaned. “Oh, that is a very good pie. Oh.”

“It is,” she agreed and dropped her face as she smiled. “Maybe you like it a little more…”

“Don’t tell Yoongi, this is better than the pies at home! Ma’am! Miss! What spices are in this? What kind of apples?”

“She’s not going to give you her secrets,” Dulce shushed him. Shushed him!

The woman tossed her head as she carried over their two mugs, “She’s right, you like it, you buy more.” She sounded so gruff and annoyed with them, it really didn’t match the otherwise quaint atmosphere. Or the smile she gave Dulce. The instant camaraderie between them made Seokjin wonder if they knew each other, but nothing else seemed to indicate that they did. 

Not wanting to be less charming than Dulce, Seokjin agreed, “All right, I want two more to take with me. Have you got them?”

“Yes, I’ve got them, I’m a baker, aren’t I?” the woman said and turned to box them up like this was a great inconvenience. 

“What did I do wrong?” Seokjin whispered to Dulce, who looked positively amused.

“How would I know?”

“Do you know her?”

“No, why would I know her?” Dulce looked genuinely confused. 

He couldn’t explain to her why this amused him, to see confirmed that he and his friends weren’t the only ones who found Dulce charming in some unusual way. He wouldn’t be able to explain it. But apparently you either got it or you didn’t, and this baker got it, and it seemed most of the other servants didn’t. Nasimiyu obviously did. He figured if he pressed Dulce on it, she would clam up, and he liked this easy conversation with her.

So he just picked up where they had left off, “To answer your question, what do I like… Food.”

“Yes I did notice that.”

He winked and clicked his tongue and pointed his finger at her, “You’re clever. Um… reading. I like games –even that rope ladder thing– even when I’m bad at them. Although I like the more when I’m good at them.”

“Doesn’t everyone? Do you mean you’re a sore loser?”

“I’m a prince, I don’t lose– shit, I didn’t mean to say that outloud,” he laughed, looking around, but no one was close nor listening. “Hm. Animals. Comfortable clothes. Oh, I’m supposed to be answering impressive things, wait, let me take those back. I like charity and education and–”

“And seeming impressive?”

“Am I not impressive?” he joked. He rested his chin in the dip between his thumb and forefinger. She raised her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth pulled back in a look of completely fake agreement. “You are brutal, Dulce.”

“I’m not someone you need to bother impressing so what does it matter?”

“Secretly I agree with you but publicly… I have an image. An important one. A role to play, a duty to take seriously. Maybe I like to play as hard as I work, but what’s wrong with that? Does Nasimiyu play?”

“Hm… in her own way, yes.”

“Oh? What way is that?”

She leaned her chin on her hand. It was the most casual posture he’d seen from her. She slid a bite of pie into her mouth and chewed and he could have sworn she looked very happy even without a smile. He felt it, like with a bunny that might not actually smile the way a human did but you could still feel the smile. Was a place like this really such a nice thing for a maid? But to be honest, he kept forgetting she was a maid, while also not forgetting it because she was Nasimiyu’s maid, but forgetting it in the sense that someone like her did not have the time nor money to sit in a bakery-cafe in the afternoon and drink chocolate coffee and eat a pie. She looked at home in a place like this. It didn’t seem right that some people were born to be in places like this and some people weren’t.

“Why did you get a whole pie?” she asked him before interrupting herself, “Never mind.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“I forgot,” she admitted. She wrapped her hands around the mug even though it was shockingly hot; Seokjin didn’t want to grab his own mug the same way yet. 

“Forgot what?”

She wouldn’t answer. Seokjin wondered if she meant that you’re a prince and if so he felt pretty smug about that. If nothing else came out of today, at least Dulce would understand he was approachable and non-threatening, maybe even a nice man, and hopefully that would win him a champion with Nasimiyu. Unless Nasimiyu didn’t like nice men? But he just felt faith in Dulce right now and her ability to sway Nasimiyu’s opinion. He got the feeling Nasimiyu listened to Dulce as much or more than he listened to Jimin. 

“We can’t eat all this.”

“Not if you don’t believe in yourself,” he scoffed. “Be confident. Move one foot and one hand at a time.”

“I’ll do my best…” She looked at the pie like she wanted more but wasn’t sure if she should. He took it upon himself to slice and serve them each another massive piece.

They lapsed into silence. Seokjin was happy to eat and drink. His back was to the room but he could see out the window and felt sheltered from the bustle of the street, even when that bustle would briefly come in, usually to buy bread. He felt like they’d discovered a real gem in this place. He had never noticed it before but it was quaint and Dulce was such good company that he grew quiet. The need to fill the silence gradually settled in him, buried under a lot of pie and coffee. She didn’t seem to mind at all when he stopped talking. Maybe she was relieved, and the thought made him smile to himself. Well he would give her a break now.

Eventually they were nearing the end –they hadn’t quite finished the pie but nearly, so when the baker brought over the two additional pies in boxes, he wedged the leftovers in with one of them. The baker told him the amount owed, and he dug into his pocket for his coin purse.

“Oh,” he said, when his hand closed around the empty bag in his breast pocket. “I used my last money on the ladders…”

“You’re making a joke right now.”

He grimaced as he pulled the bag out and turned it over in his palm. A single small coin fell out, not nearly enough. The baker looked scandalized.

“You–”

“Don’t yell,” Dulce interrupted the woman, perfectly calm as she fished into the pocket of her skirt. “Give us a moment.”

“Can you?” Seokjin asked, starting to sweat. This had never happened to him before. He never carried much money on him when he went into the city so it wouldn’t cause him trouble, but he also never spent as much as he had today, buying two of everything, so many books, the games, the monkey. He watched as Dulce fished a much rattier coin purse from beneath the table and dug around inside. “I’ll pay you everything back and then some when we get back to the palace,” he vowed.

She didn’t comment but handed the woman the coins –literally everything she had in the bag, that was obvious. Nasimiyu must not pay her as well as he expected! The baker took the last coin from Seokjin’s hand and turned away, not looking happy even though she’d got her money.

“I’ll get your money back to you,” he assured Dulce again. “Ah, it’s embarrassing… I’m glad I didn’t know until the end or I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the pie. I promise I’m much better with money in my real job.”

“What would you have done if I didn’t have the money?”

“Washed dishes, I guess.”

“Do you know how to do that?”

“You’ve seen me in the kitchen, you know I do! Yoongi makes me wash dishes, I don’t get to just make whatever mess I want and leave it.”

Her chin lowered as she mused, “That’s not true though. You can do whatever you want. He can’t actually order you around.”

“Why not? That’s his space, not mine.”

“It’s all your space. Everything is. The whole city. If you told her who you are, you could have all of this and more on credit and–”

“No.” He said it simply, to see how she would respond to a taste of her own medicine. He pushed up from the table and took over managing the pie boxes into the bag he’d been carrying their books in all day, even though it meant taking the books out. She just watched, and didn’t seem particularly bothered by his no. She didn’t even argue. A no was a no with her, and it apparently worked both ways.

It took some finagling so the pies wouldn’t spill, and the bag would be awkward to carry, but there it was.

“I could tell by your look you didn’t think I’d figure it out, but this works fine,” he announced, carefully sliding the strap over his shoulder. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“Are you impressed? I’m good at puzzles.”

She didn’t answer that either which he took to be a silent ‘no.’ 

They left the bakery-cafe and now that it was getting later in the afternoon, he considered that he should probably lead her back to the palace. He turned to find the right way when suddenly Dulce bumped into his side and lifted a boy right off the ground. He was probably around ten, scrawny, a little wiry, and only a head shorter than Dulce, so it was rather impressive.

“Don’t go putting your hands in people’s pockets,” she told the lad who was obviously startled.

Quickly his shocked look twisted into a scowl as he cursed her out, “Let me go you fucking cunt.” He twisted and tried to break free but her grip on his arm looked painfully tight.

“Empty your pockets.”

“I didn’t take anything.”

“Uh… is there anything missing?” she asked Seokjin, propelling him into motion. 

He didn’t even check, just shook his head, “Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I told you, you fucking crazy bitch ass witch!”

Dulce gave the boy a hard shove away. He scowled at her once before taking off down the path.

“He had his hand in your pocket.”

“Ah there’s nothing in there,” he shrugged and began to walk. “I don’t come into the city with anything valuable.” He was stunned not to have even felt it but he supposed you weren’t a very good pickpocket if you got caught doing it –except the boy had underestimated Dulce. 

“You don’t care at all?” 

“That a child tried to pick my pocket?”

“He did take something, I’m positive. Your empty coin purse maybe? You barely looked.”

Seokjin shrugged, “He must be desperate to try, so if he finds a coin in there the baker missed, good for him.”

“I don’t think he’s desperate, you just look…” She trailed off again and began walking.

“I look what? Still handsome in my disguise?” he joked.

“Easy to pickpocket.”

“Why? What makes me seem like that?”

“Just… you do,” she shrugged. He almost asked if she had experience as a pickpocket but stopped himself in time. He wouldn’t judge her for it! Hoseok would have a fit if he asked someone that though, even a maid, and he didn’t want to offend Dulce.

Instead he asked, “Have you had a very interesting life?”

“Why would you ask a maid a question like that?”

“How does a woman born in Paloma become a maid to a Marvonese princess?”

“Luck,” she shrugged. 

“You seem like someone who’s had an interesting life.”

“I haven’t.”

“Yeah, I haven’t either,” he sighed, then amended, “I realize I’m very fortunate in my birth and all of that. I’m not too dense not to recognize how lucky I am in so many ways… Ah, forget I said that…” How mortifying. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he realized. There was a violin playing outside a house, and his belly was full, and it had been a good day despite his unexpected partner for it. “Sometimes I don’t think through what I’m saying,” he admitted.

“I’ve noticed.”

A smile. A kind smile, small though it was. She was very lovely without a smile and even lovelier with one. Her face looked softer with it, younger.

Her smile quickly disappeared as more instruments abruptly joined the violin, suddenly enough to startle them both. They turned to look as the doors of a house opened to shouts and a man and woman dressed nicely and covered in flowers stepped out. 

“What’s happening?” Dulce asked, stepping to the side as a roar ran up the street. She looked genuinely concerned as shutters flew open on the upper levels of the buildings around them and people leaned out of windows shouting and throwing things.

“A wedding,” Seokjin realized, face lighting up. These spontaneous celebrations were something he’d only stumbled across once; unlike the serious, dignified affairs of the nobility, the common folk of Priva made a real riot about weddings. “That’s the bride and groom,” he explained, pressing back against the wall. The music was now so loud though he had to lean down so she could hear. It helped that she was looking up, eyes wide and curious as the street came alive. The roars of applause and shouts of blessings were drowned out by the noise as the groom swept his bride into his arms and began to dance down the street with her. In kicking off the dance, others joined in, old couples, young couples, neighbors and strangers.

Dulce held her hand out, palm up, and Seokjin followed her gaze skyward as flower petals rained down, thrown by the conspiring friends from the upper levels. It was such a sudden and shocking expression of communal joy. Seokjin didn’t know if everyone in the area even knew the couple who had just married and were being ushered down the street, led by the band playing music. 

For one brief impulsive moment Seokjin got carried away. He wasn’t thinking straight, he blamed it on the full belly and the music and the ease he felt after a day in Dulce’s easy company. 

“Do you want to dance?” he asked but his voice faltered halfway through as he spotted several people he recognized from the palace –other staff, no doubt about their own day, but he needed to not be seen by them.

He needed to especially not be seen by them dancing around a wedding parade with his betrothed’s maid.

He felt bad to interrupt the moment because Dulce still had this starry look on her face, but he nudged her arm and motioned with his head, “We had better go.”

Thankfully, Dulce didn’t seem to have heard his question. She didn’t argue with his new suggestion, just nodded and followed him like that was the plan all along. The joyful celebration faded behind them, music softening to a whisper, as he led her up a different street, and he felt something sad creep in, the tragedy of a moment ending too soon. It would have been nice to join the parade for a little bit and live in that bubble of joy for a while longer. Although at least the interruption had spared him the embarrassment of asking his betrothed’s maid to dance. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been. Too much good food today.

He was tired now, and he thought she might be too. They had walked a lot. There’d been a lot of unusual moments, even for a day he went into the city which was already supposed to be out of the ordinary for him. 

Based on nothing, he thought she might enjoy the sea walk, and they were close to it anyway.

“It’s less crowded up here,” he told her as they took the stairs. “It won’t get us all the way there but it’s a straight shot.”

“We walked all the way here?” she realized.

“Ai, yeah, my legs are going to be too sore for my dance practice tomorrow,” he lamented. Then, because he had a dream she would appreciate it, he asked her, “How do nudists dance?”

“No.”

He started laughing at her shut down and because her lips twitched and because he firmly believed she was really not as serious as she claimed to be. So he ignored her ‘no’ and answered anyway:

“Cheek to cheek.”

“It’s terrible.”

“You’re trying not to laugh, admit it.”

“If you brought me up here to push me off the wall and that’s the last thing I hear–”

“Wha wha why would I do that?” he gasped. On second thought, just to reassure her, he nudged her in front of him so he could walk on the side of the sea, even though there was a wall and a low fence and then a little bit more wall in a serious effort to keep anyone from meeting an untimely end. “Just don’t push me off,” he joked. 

She must not have heard though, distracted by the late afternoon sun lowering over the water. Nightfall was still a long way away. Sometimes he stayed out into the evening but he’d be at dinner tonight and his father and most of the palace wouldn’t even know he had ever been gone; they would assume he’d just holed up in his room for the day, which he also did on occasion. Sometimes he escaped the palace into the cozy space he’d made for himself in his bedroom; other times he wanted to escape even himself and went into the city. Today he’d only been halfway successful in that and yet…

This was nice. The bag was awkward to carry but the breeze was cooler up here even though the sun was hotter too. Dulce had looped her shawl over her head and hair again, which was probably for the best since they were more likely to be spotted by nobles up here. It wasn’t off-limits to common folk as longa as everyone behaved, but the presence of guards enforcing the peace made it one area of the city nobility felt more comfortable venturing beyond their own walls.

“I’m sorry I prevented you from running any of your errands today,” he mentioned after several minutes of peaceful silence.

“I wasn’t doing anything in particular. Just exploring.”

“There’s a lot to see in the city. I hope you enjoyed it and that you’ll have more opportunities to find things here.”

“My lady is marrying the prince so I suspect I’ll be here for a long time.”

He felt the need to clarify, “Sorry, I don’t really expect you to keep this all a secret from her. You have my permission to do whatever you want but I hope you were going to do that even without my permission. It’s my own fault for getting noticed. I just hope she can understand the need to get away sometimes. Or maybe she’s never felt like that. Sometimes people are born the way they’re supposed to be born and sometimes people have to figure it out. She seems like someone who was born to it.” 

He stopped talking, realizing he was saying too much. Again. 

“I can be a better ruler and understand people better if i get to go out and see how they live,” he tried again. He wondered if she believed he was that selfless. It was true. But it was also true that sometimes he just wanted to be nobody in the world. He wasn’t thinking about how to be a prince when he snuck out, he was thinking about how to not be a prince at all.

Dulce didn’t say anything for a while and he bit back the urge to say more just to cover his own ass he’d left exposed. After a few minutes, the urge subsided. She didn’t seem to expect him to talk and fill the silence or entertain her but he got the feeling she had listened to him, and maybe heard more than he meant her ot hear.

Eventually she said, “Don’t try so hard to impress her. You can’t make her do or like anything she doesn’t want to. You just have to give her a chance to warm up on her own.”

She wasn’t the first one to suggest that. He knew he tried too hard, and his way of trying could be off-putting. It was frightening to have to just wait and hope; it was more comfortable to think he just had to figure out what the magic thing to say or do would be to impress her. He was charming! People thought so! He just had to show her–

But nothing he’d said or done had impressed Dulce either, and yet he’d just spent the majority of a day watching her gradually warm up to him. She’d even joked with him! He didn’t feel revulsion from her and sometimes he thought, perhaps overconfident, he even amused her. Maybe maid and mistress really were similar in that way, and it would just take time and faith.

Or maybe nothing would make any difference and he was in for a lifetime of his wife thinking he was obnoxious and incompetent. 

“You don’t think it’s hopeless?” he asked, feeling like it was.

“You said climbing that ladder was impossible and then you saw me do it,” she pointed out.

“Ah.” He nodded, lips pouting. “That is a good point. You are very wise, Two Three.”

“That’s not my name.”

“You can call me one.”

“One what?”

“The number one! Was that a joke?”

“No… I just didn’t understand…” She actually frowned and refused to look at him as he slapped his hands and laughed. He genuinely couldn’t tell with her and he couldn’t decide which was funnier, that she’d made the joke on purpose or that she’d followed the set up accidentally.

“You can call me Jin,” he suggested.

“I’m not calling you anything except Your Majesty.”

“It’s supposed to be Your Highness– ah, but you already know that.”

“I might already know that,” she admitted. Her gaze flickered briefly to him and then back out to sea. “If anyone asks, you didn’t see me today, wherever you were.”

“Ah. Really?”

She gave a slight nod. He wasn’t sure that was the truth but assumed she meant it as a kindness, trying to assure him that he didn’t need to worry his days like this would be interrupted.

“I won’t give you away if you change your mind,” he promised her. “I won’t even tell anyone you made a joke.”

“You ought to be more careful about wandering around the city. If something happened to you, how would anyone even know?” she pointed out.

“Well I suppose whoever did it would brag about it a little.” He grinned to soothe over the dark humor and added, “See, I think about these things too.”

“But it’s worth the risk to you?”

“Better to risk it for a little life than never really live at all.”

“Is… that from a book?” she asked slowly.

Which thrilled him as he quickly explained, “Yes, it’s from the wise, intelligent, compassione mouth of–”

“So that’s a no.”

“Seokjin Kim.”

“Hm.”

He laughed. Actually Dulce made a very funny straightman to his comedy. They could be a funny act together, if they were so inclined. If they were different people. If they each had a different life.

He did not quite want the walk to end, but it had to. He could see the staircase up ahead he would take to make his way through his secret entrance back into the palace, and obviously she couldn’t return with him. Even he wasn’t stupid enough not to predict that scandal –and that she was the one who’d be hurt worse by it.

But the day had been better with her along for it, he was certain of that, and equally as uncertain how to tell her that in a way that wouldn’t make her uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he didn’t know there was a power dynamic here, no matter how much he had hoped to ignore it for the day, no matter how much he attempted to ignore it with the other staff he cared about and considered his friends. That was always the problem, that he didn’t have an equal, not really. Someone who understood him, nope. Someone he could be himself around, not yet entirely, and yet today felt close to that. He was still figuring her and Nasimiyu out but the fact he understood Dulce a little better now seemed like a step in the right direction of the merging of their households.

“It’s been a pleasure, but here we must part. Will you be able to make it back safely from here?”

“Yes, I know the way. You have a secret way?”

“Of course,” he said with a bob of his head. “But I’m afraid I must keep some secrets.” He hoped he sounded cool and mysterious but suspected he did not. He also suspected there was not much point in pretending to be anything he wasn’t to Dulce. She had this look in her eyes like she could see right through you and also that she didn’t really care. That was exactly it! This look like that’s how you are? All right then, if that’s what you want to be. She hadn’t even harassed him about the erotica section, not really. She could have. At least he didn’t think she knew about the cards he’d purchased, hidden now between the pages of one of his books.

His books! He completely forgot he had the new Kalamouche to read! The whole reason he’d gone into the city was to get it for himself and it had completely slipped his mind until right now. It reminded him that he had the book he’d bought her too, and he dug it out of the bag and handed it over, adding,

“I’ll have the money I owe you sent over.”

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t!” he laughed. “Don’t forget. I spent all my money on you today–”

“All the money you had with you. I spent all the money I have in the world.”

“I promise I will not forget. Tell Nasimiyu to pay you better, it wasn’t very much.”

“Maybe I have a secret lavish lifestyle you don’t know about.”

“As you showed me today, anything is possible,” he conceded. Then waved at her like they were old friends. It left him feeling like a child but that wasn’t anything new. 

It did feel odd though to turn his back on her and head off and just leave her standing there alone. Not that he didn’t think she was capable; in fact today had taught him that Jimin’s suspicions might be right, she was exceedingly capable as a maid. Overqualified. Like me, Jimin had said with a cheeky grin. 

He wasn’t going to tell his friends about seeing her today though, he decided as he pulled his cap lower and took the long way round to the stables to change clothes in Taehyung’s room. At least not the whole thing of it, maybe just that he’d run into her– no, they didn’t need to know that either. 

He ought to be exhausted and avoided anyone he could as he made his way back to his rooms with pies and books in tow, but actually he wasn’t. He felt refreshed as he closed his bedroom door, and grabbed his book, and went to let his furry friends out to roam while he read. The seabreeze had really rejuvenated him.

***

It was late by the time Dulce returned. She took her book and the hedgehog statue to her room where another maid told her Nasimiyu wanted to see her as soon as she got back and then turned her nose up, probably because Dulce appeared to have just had the first holiday among the staff.

So Dulce went by Nasimiyu’s room, where the princess sat reading an adventure story on the sofa. It was something she and Seokjin could talk about, reading, though Dulce didn’t know that they enjoyed the same stories. Nasimiyu might not be able to get past the pictures in the adventure stories Seokjin read.

“Well? Did you find him?” Nasimiyu asked. “Where did he go?”

To a bookstore and a porn closet, Dulce thought. To eat street food and cry a pepper out of his eye and lose at a silly ladder game. To eat almost an entire pie and spend all my money and then to a wedding and then for a walk along the sea. And then through the stables, into the staff house through a window and out the other, the most obvious and poorly hidden secret path from the palace.

“I didn’t find him,” Dulce admitted. “But it turns out he was in the palace the whole time. A new book he wanted was released and he hid in his room to read it. He spreads rumors that he’s gone so no one will disturb him.”

“Oh.” Nasimiyu’s face scrunched up. She had clearly not considered this. “What kind of book?”

“I don’t know, Simi, I can’t really read…”

“You brat,” Nasimiyu laughed. “I know you can read, I said that one time as a joke…”

“You know I don’t have a sense of humor.”

“You’re the fucking funniest person I’ve ever met, now where were you all day? If you couldn’t find him, why didn’t you come back? It was so fucking boring around here today… well, I did have a good time this afternoon bowling with Mindeulle and Lidmila.”

“I kept looking. You told me to find him. And I’m tired now so I’m going to bed, goodnight.”

“What?” Nasimiyu laughed. “Just like that?”

Dulce waved over her shoulder. Nasimiyu found it amusing, thank goodness. She let Dulce go without anything further. She was in a good mood then. She must actually have had quite a lot of fun with her new lady friends.

Good. Because Dulce was tired and didn’t feel like doing anything right now except picking the flower petals out of her hair from the wedding and going to sleep. She couldn’t have started reading that book Seokjin bought her if she wanted to. Well, only the first chapter.

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[phoenixyfriend]

👀 PLease tell us your thoughts about the Jedi babies re-growing up among different cultural contexts.

Oh fuck okay

Context: original post, chrono The specific post this ask is referencing: here

Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka), are now staying with the True Mandalorians under Jaster Mereel because the Force said to, go back to the Temple after about a decade. They grabbed Shmi about three months after arriving.

So as far as the cultural background goes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had similar upbringings. She spent a few years on Shili first, but both spent the majority of their childhoods up to age 13/14 being raised in the creche. So that's the basis that they would default to, in a vacuum.

Nobody is raised in a vacuum.

Along with the Jedi cultural background, they're being raised by Tatooine natives in a Mandalorian environment.

Shmi and Anakin are both former slaves who have desert survival baked into their bones. The longer Anakin spends around her, the more his accent slips, the more he talks about old folktales, the more he uses idioms that don't exist on a cityplanet like Coruscant. All the things that he tamped down to be a Jedi come floating back to the surface, and Shmi's never known anything else. Anakin's knowledge of slave customs make her feel more comfortable, which in turn makes him feel better, and so on.

Mandalore is just... the culture they're living in. You don't grow up in a new culture with a new language without picking up on it personally. (Source: I moved to the US when I was a little under two years old.)

I think the thing I'm going to focus on as an example is the way each of these cultures approaches family, and then maybe how they approach the keeping of peace/what peace means.

Jedi: Where you come from means little, only the legacy you leave behind in your students. Mandalore: You protect your clan and your children; adoption is a major cultural value, if not actually practiced consistently. Tatooine: You can lose your family at any time, so you value what you have in all its forms. You don’t forget where and who you came from, to family of blood and family of choice alike. You cling to your memories and what little you still have of them, to what your master cannot take away.

These are all valid ways to approach family, and each of these approaches can have significant meaning to different people. But they do all, to a certain degree, conflict with one another, despite all three being fairly communal cultures.

The Jedi have a culture, one that’s built on a shared ability and religion over thousands of years. It’s not just an organization, but a continuous community with legends and traditions and art and records. But it’s one that is built on new blood coming in from the outside, volunteers who join because the religion speaks to them (near literally, given the nature of Force Sensitivity), given up by families who couldn’t or wouldn’t teach them in a way that let their talents flourish instead of pushing it all down.

For the Jedi, a culture built on people coming together due to something they have in common intrinsically that their families of blood do not, it makes sense to put emphasis on letting go of that past when they can, and to place importance on teaching lineages. It’s not just the official master-padawan pairs, either, but that’s the most obvious and easily paralleled element. Moreover, a lot of the Jedi culture is about gaining knowledge, so obviously spreading it is good, and also on supporting the galaxy to make it a better place; to view the Jedi order as a heavily communal culture would make sense, since their values are all about selfless betterment of the universe, which on a larger scale is about the galactic conflicts, but on a smaller scale is about supporting their own community, the children and the ill and elderly.

So that is the specific culture that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka grew up in, one that holds blood family as relevant but not particularly crucial to one’s identity, but is structured so people leave behind legacies through education in a manner that often becomes adoptive family (depending on your definition, I guess). Jedi are encouraged to connect to their home cultures, if not their families, with practices like the coming of age hunt for Togruta leading to the young Jedi taking a trip out to Shili to engage in that cultural milestone. This can also be viewed as a way for the Jedi to maintain personal connections to the wider universe, a (not entirely successful, but certainly attempted) way of keeping them from becoming too isolated and insular from the universe at large, and losing touch from what the galaxy actually needs of them.

They’re now growing up with two cultures that do place emphasis on blood and found family.

Mandalore, as presented in The Mandalorian, has their traditional values set as being heavily associated with their armor, battle skills, and childcare. While that’s clearly a set of values that aren’t actually followed by everyone with full sincerity, we can assume that these stated cultural values do have at least some impact on the way the society is structured, since we do see more traditional characters (Jaster, Din) adopt orphaned children and then have the Mandalorian elements of their immediate circles support that claim.

(We’ll ignore Jango and the whole clone army thing because the amount of Sith influence is up for debate and also holy trauma, Batman.)

However, we also see that a lot of Mandalorian culture is built on their family histories. On the New Mandalorian side, we see emphasis placed on the fact that Satine is House Kryze and that she’s a duchess. Her bloodline is relevant, though not the most important thing about her. On the Death Watch side, we have Pre and Tor placing emphasis on the fact that they’re Clan Vizsla, descended from Tarre, that this is important to why they deserve what the darksaber represents, this is part of why they not only deserve to lead, but should for the good of Mandalore.

Bo-Katan’s armor is a family heirloom. Boba’s armor was Jango’s, but before being Jango’s, it was Jaster’s. Armor is important enough to pass to family, but the family can be adopted. This all tracks.

The resol’nare specifies loyalty and care for the clan/tribe among the six tenets.

These two elements seem relatively well-balanced: the importance of adoption and the importance of family as a larger unit on the level of a house or clan.

And then you have Tatooine, which also balances blood and adoption, but for entirely different reasons, that being this: it can always be taken from you.

For all that a Mandalorian could historically expect their family to die in battle, and a Jedi could expect to lose their master the same way if things went poorly, those were usually choices. A Mandalorian was raised to walk into battle, and then they could make that choice to do so. It wasn’t often much of a choice, but they could feasibly turn their back and choose to be a farmer or a doctor or something, and support the people who went out to do battle instead of being the one on the field themselves. A Jedi could choose to be a healer or an archivist or join one of the Corps.

A slave does not get that choice. A slave can be killed or sold on a whim from their master. It’s not a one-time trauma, but an ever-present fear. Your parent, your child, your sibling, your spouse, all of them can be separated from you at any time. You can always lose them, and you have no choice but to grin and bear it, or try to run and die before you reach freedom.

In a context like that, I imagine Tatooine places a very heavy emphasis on family, both of blood and of choice, and on treasuring what you have while you have it. A person is always aware that they can lose whoever they have in their life, and so they make the most of their times together, have clear and consistent ways of expressing that love (I imagine primarily direct verbal confirmations and physical contact, practical gifts like water and fruit). Childcare is important, elders are venerated. Those who survived that far have valuable wisdom, and the children are to be given what happiness they can have before reality wipes that ability from them.

The family ‘networks’ among Tatooine slaves are smaller and tighter knit. There’s less trust for outsiders, but once you’re in, you’re in until you are taken away. Still, families are torn apart regularly, and often can’t contact each other after being separated if they’re sold far enough away, so families stay small because they’re always being broken up. Unlike Mandalore’s tribe/clan system, or the Jedi’s wide, loosely-structured community, Tatooine’s slaves form smaller groups that cling for as long as they can, and try to support each other. (There are selfish ones, of course, especially the newbies, but... well. Most try.)

Tatooine is also much more likely to assign a familial role (e.g. referring to an elder as ‘grandmother’). It’s not uncommon in the others (multiple Jedi refer to their masters as a parent or sibling, like Anakin’s “you’re like a father to me” line), but it’s not as baked-in that such a role should be given.

So on a structural level, we have two people from a community culture with little emphasis on blood family or formal familial roles are now being raised in a community that has them asking “what can you do for the people around you first, and then the wider world?” by people who tell them “your family, blood and found, is the most important thing you have; never let anyone take more from you than they possibly can.”

And that shit has an effect.

For all that Sokanth and Ylliben were once raised with a knowledge that their duty, their goal, was to better the galaxy as a whole, they are now being told that the community that raises them asks their loyalty back, because societies are built on support networks, and if you support the tribe, it will support you. There are parallels to that kind of thinking among Jedi, because it is basic social theory, but it’s not presented as the same kind of cultural value. It’s not given as something to strive for, just a basic fact.

This, for instance, means that once they’re back at the Temple, they have a tendency towards suggesting study groups and other ways of supporting people in their immediate circle, often structured in very unfamiliar ways. Again, this isn’t uncommon among Jedi, but it’s not done in the same way, or with the same emphasis. The Jedi also often approach problem-solving in a different order, so the step of “meditate on it and you may find your solution” often comes before “gather information from people who know more about it than you do,” while Ben and Soka have by this point learned to do it the other way around, because that’s what the Mandalorian system taught them: rely on your family first.

Meanwhile, the Tatooine element of their upbringing has them being much more willing to just... casually refer to ‘my dad’ and ‘my sister’ and so on. They use those words. It’s not just “my master is like a father to me,” but “this is my father.” They don’t hesitate to talk about the family they had and still have in Mandalorian space. None of the Jedi begrudge them it, really, but it’s always a shock to hear for the first time, and between the Tatooine refusal to pretend the connection is gone and the Mandalorian tendency to err on the side of roughhousing as affection, they’re just... odd. It’s not like none of the other Jedi know family outside the Order--some of the old books had Obi-Wan visiting his brother on Stewjon once in a while--or like none of the active Jedi are loud or boisterous, but the specific manner in which Soka and Ben interact with the Order, especially when their dad is around, is very weird.

More Soka than Ben, really, but that’s mostly just because Ben’s a very quiet person until he gets a little older, so it’s harder to notice on him.

Point is, while they still hold to their duty to the wider galaxy and will continue to keep that duty above almost anything else in their lives, the way they talk and act about the subject of family, especially in private, is heavily influenced by their new cultures.

This is already very long but I promised I’d talk about peace so let’s go:

The Jedi seek peace as an absence of war and conflict in the portion of the galaxy under their purview, in hopes that they will prevent as much suffering and death as they can.

The Mandalorians are varied, but Jaster Mereel’s group (which is the community the Skywalkers are with) is likely to view peace as unrealistic to achieve in the long term. They do not seek war, but they know the world they live in, and are prepared to protect against violence as their first resort. They always expect an attack, even if they don’t seek it.

The Slaves of Tatooine view peace as the calm in a storm. It is the status quo. Nobody has escaped tonight, for the guards aren’t searching, but neither is anyone dead. The Master you have is in a good enough mood to not sell you, to not kill you, to not beat you. Peace as an absence of suffering is impossible, so you seek for your master to be peaceful, that is to say: not raging at you.

The scope of each of these narrows significantly. From the known galaxy, to the wars that meet Mandalorian space, to the household one serves.

A community like the Jedi can choose to address peace as something to be sought on a large scale as an absence of war. They primarily function within the borders of the Republic, which has its problems but is largely structured to prevent such things from occurring until the Sith interfere. The Jedi have a structure that allows them to address peace as an ideal to be sought, at least within the borders of the territory they serve.

Mandalore, meanwhile, has been at war on and off for... ever. When they are not at war with themselves, they’re at war with someone else. ‘Peace’ is just the time between wars, and they know that if they do not attack first, they will be forced to defend. Jaster Mereel was known as the Reformer, and part of that was that instituting a code of honor, one that was intended to prevent Mandalorian warriors from acting as raiders and brigands, but rather acting as honorable hired soldiers, or taking roles such as the Journeyman Protectors. Given that, I imagine that he views war as something inevitable, but also something that can be mitigated.

War doesn’t touch Tatooine.

Oh, it might raise taxes and import rates. It might prevent visitors who come for the races. It can do a lot of things.

But to a slave, these are nothing. The only thing war does is affect the master, the person who chooses when their slaves get water, when they get beaten, when they are no longer useful enough to keep around or keep alive.

The peace of a slave’s live is dictated by how much abuse they are subjected to by the person who owns them.

What this means for Soka and Ben is... well, they are viewed as war-hungry by the people who don’t know them very well. They have armor. They focus on fighting, both with and without their sabers. They know tactics better than most masters. They claim that war is coming, and don’t seem too sad about it.

(It is a fact to them. War will come. All they can do is meet it. They’ve already done their mourning once.)

They also... well, Shmi tells them things in hidden corners. How to duck their head to hide the hate or fear in their eyes. How to watch for the anger in the tendons of a hand. The laugh of someone who enjoys the pain they’ve caused, not just the adrenaline of a fight. She is free, and so are they, but she has not forgotten how to hide in the shadows until the master’s ire has turned elsewhere. How to be small and quiet and unseen until the danger passes.

A Jedi’s first resort is words. Their second is their saber. But the Jeedai hold their heads high, and the Mandalorians do the same.

“You rely on the Force, and you have your pride,” she tells them, her hands on their own. “But there will come a time when you will not be able to remind people that you are free. You will not be able to say that you are a person, that you deserve the respect of a living sentient. Perhaps it will be a politician who treats everyone like that. Perhaps you will be captured by an enemy. Perhaps you will be undercover. You will not be able to fight, with words or with weapons, and you will have to know how to survive.”

Tatooine does not have peace. Tatooine only has survival.

And while Jedi fight for the survival and peace of the universe, they are refined and composed. Mando’ade fight like warriors of old, and Tatooine slaves fight like cornered, rabid anooba.

The galaxy comes first, but when the chips are down and the Sith come out to play, Soka and Ben do not need refinement, because they know how to toss aside their pride and live.

[earlgreytea68]

Heyyyyyy, I bet you were DYING to know stuff about that Google v. Oracle decision, huh?

You may have heard recently about a big deal Supreme Court decision called Google v. Oracle, a litigation that has dragged on for many, many, many years and focuses on Google having copied some pieces of computer programming owned by Oracle and known as APIs. Most of the write-ups I’ve seen about it have focused on its enormous repercussions for the technology sector, which makes sense since it’s a case about computer programming and APIs and other tech-y things.

But the thing about the decision is that it’s a fair use decision. The Supreme Court could have found that the APIs weren’t even protected by copyright. But instead, the Supreme Court used the doctrine of fair use, and this means that the case potentially has ramifications for all fair use situations, including fanfiction!

So, if you don’t know, fair use is a main defense to copyright infringement. Basically, you can use somebody else’s copyrighted work without their permission as long as what you’re doing with it is considered a “fair use.” E.g., you can write a story in somebody else’s fictional universe or draw art of somebody else’s fictional copyrighted characters without their permission as long as your use is a “fair use.”

“What’s a fair use?” is an incredibly complicated question. The long and tortured history of Google v. Oracle illustrates this: a jury found Google’s use was a fair use; an appellate court found that it wasn’t and basically said the jury was wrong; and now the Supreme Court says no, no, the jury was right and the appellate court was wrong. Like, this is not unusual, fair case rulings are historically full of disagreements over the same set of facts. All of the cases reiterate over and over that it’s a question that can’t really be simplified: every fair use depends on the particular circumstances of that use. So, in a way, Google v. Oracle, like every fair use case, is a very specific story about a very specific situation where Google used very specific APIs in a very specific way.

However, while every fair use case is always its own special thing, they all always debate the same four fair use factors (these are written into the law itself as being the bare minimum of what should be considered), and especially what’s known as the first and fourth factors. The first factor is formally “the purpose and character of the alleged fair use,” although over the decades of fair use jurisprudence this has come to be shorthanded as “transformativeness,” and the fourth factor is “effect on the market.”

Most of the energy and verve of a fair use case is usually in the transformativeness analysis; the more transformative your use is, the more likely it is to be fair (this is why AO3’s parent organization is called the Organization for *Transformative* Works – “transformative” is a term of art in copyright law). To “transform” a work, btw, for purposes of copyright fair use doesn’t necessarily mean that you have edited the work somehow; you can copy a work verbatim and still be found transformative if you have added some new commentary to it by placing it in a new context (Google Image Search thumbnails, while being exact reproductions of the image in question, have been found to be fair use because they’re recontextualizing the images for the different purpose of search results). The point is, transformativeness is, like fair use itself, built to be flexible.

Why? Because the purpose of copyright is to promote creativity, and sometimes we promote creativity by giving people a copyright, but sometimes giving someone a copyright that would block someone else’s use is the opposite of promoting creativity; that’s why we need fair use, for THAT, for when letting the copyright holder block the use would cause more harm to the general creative progress than good. Google v. Oracle recommits U.S. copyright to the idea that all this is not about protecting the profits of the copyright monopolist; we need to make sure that copyright functions to keep our society full of as much creativity as possible. Google copied Oracle’s APIs to make new things: create new products, better smartphones, a platform for other programmers to jump in and give us even more new functionality. The APIs themselves were created used preexisting stuff in the first place, so it’s not like anyone was working in a vacuum with a wholly original work. And, in fact, executives had thought that, the more people they could get using the programming, the better off they would be.

Which brings us to the fourth fair use factor, effect on the market (meaning the copyright holder’s market and ability to reap profits from the original work). There’s a lot of tech stuff going on in this part of the opinion but one of the points I find interesting from that discussion is that the court thought that Google’s use of the APIs was not a market substitute for the original programming, meaning that Google used the APIs “on very different devices,” an entirely new mobile platform that was “a very different type of product.”

But also. What I find most interesting in this part is the court’s explicit acknowledgment that sometimes things are good because they are superior, and sometimes things are good because people “are just used to it. They have already learned how to work with it.” Now, this obviously has special resonance in the tech industry (is your smartphone good because it’s the best it could be, or because you’re just really used to the way it’s set up?), but there’s also something interesting being said here about how not all of the value of a copyrighted work belongs *to the copyright holder* but comes *from consumers.* Forgive the long quote but I think the Court’s words are important here:

“This source of Android’s profitability has much to do with third parties’ (say, programmers’) investment in Sun Java programs. It has correspondingly less to do with Sun’s investment in creating the Sun Java API. . . . [G]iven programmers’ investment in learning the Sun Java API, to allow enforcement of Oracle’s copyright here would risk harm to the public. . . . [A]llowing enforcement here would make of the Sun Java API’s declaring code a lock limiting the future creativity of new programs. Oracle alone would hold the key. The result could well prove highly profitable to Oracle . . . . But those profits could well flow from creative improvements, new applications, and new uses developed by users who have learned to work with that interface. To that extent, the lock would interfere with, not further, copyright’s basic creativity objectives.”

This is picking up on reasoning in some older computer cases (like Lotus v. Borland, a First Circuit case from decades ago), but I think it’s so important we got this in a Supreme Court case: if WE bring some value to the copyrighted work through our investment in it, why should the copyright holder get to collect ALL the rewards by locking up further creativity involving that work? Which, incidentally, the Court explicitly notes is to the public detriment because more creativity is good for the public? This is such an important idea to the Supreme Court’s reasoning here that it’s the first part of the fair use test that it decides: that the value of the work at issue here “in significant part derives from the value that those who do not hold copyrights . . . invest of their own time and effort . . . .”

This case is, as we say in the law, distinguishable from fanfiction and fanart. APIs are different from television shows, and this case is very much a decision about technology and computer programming and smartphones and how old law gets applied to new things. Like, fair use is an old doctrine dating from the early nineteenth-century, and here we are figuring out how to apply it to the Android mobile phone platform. That, in and of itself, is pretty cool, and it’s rightly what most of the articles you’ll see out there about this case are focusing on.

But this case isn’t just a technology case; it’s also a fair use case that places itself in the lineage of all the fair use cases we look at when we think about what makes a use fair. And, to that end, this has some interesting things to say, about how much value consumers bring to copyrighted works and where a copyright holder’s rights might have to acknowledge that; about the fact that there are in fact limits to how much a copyright holder can control when it comes to holding the “lock” to future creativity building on what came before; about what part of the market a copyright holder is entitled to and what it isn’t. Think about the analogy you could make here: Given the investment of fans in learning canon, which is what makes the creative work valuable in the first place, allowing enforcement against fanfic or fanart would allow the canon creators to have a lock limiting future creativity, which would be highly profitable to the original creator (or, let’s be real, to Disney lol), but wouldn’t further copyright’s goals of promoting creativity because it would stifle all of that creativity instead. And just like Google with the APIs, what fandom is doing is not a market substitute for the original work: they’re “very different products.”

This is not to say, like, ANYTHING GOES NOW. Like I said, fanfic and fanart are very different from APIs. Fictional works get more protection than a functional work like the APIs at issue in this case. And there’s still a whole thing about commercial vs. non-commercial in fair use analysis which I didn’t really touch here (but which obviously has limits, since it’s not like Google isn’t making tons of money, and their use was a fair use). But this decision could kind of remind a big media world that maybe had forgotten that the copyright monopoly they enjoy is supposed to have the point of encouraging creativity; we grant a copyright because we think people won’t create without a financial incentive. (Tbh, there’s a lot of doubt that that is actually a true thing to believe, given all the free fic and art that gets produced daily, but anyway, it’s what the law decided several centuries ago before the internet was a thing.) Copyright is a balance, between those who hold the copyright and the rest of us, and the rest of us aren’t just passive consumers, we have creative powers of our own, and we might also want to do some cool things. And this case sees that. None of us are starting in a creative vacuum, after all; we’re all in this playground together.

[jianswordbi-sokka]

I’ve been thinking an awful lot about Sokka’s meteorite sword lately (like, a lot a lot). Since it happens to fall at the exact intersection of my areas of interest, I thought I’d put together a bit of an analysis on said sword, the meteorite it came from, and the implications it has for the broader Avatar universe. 

First things first let’s clarify a couple terms here: a meteorite is, technically speaking, a particle of solid material that has fallen to the surface of a planetary body from space. A meteoroid is that same fragment of rock before it reaches the ground. A meteor is the light created by the meteoroid as it transits through the atmosphere, otherwise known as a fireball or shooting star. If we’re being totally accurate, Sokka’s sword would be referred to as a meteorite sword, not a meteor sword (I’m looking at you, atla wiki).

Now let’s consider the actual fall of the meteorite, and what the atla team got right and wrong:

1)     The meteor shower: meteor showers occur at specific times of year when the orbit of a planet passes through an area that is relatively dense in particle which burn up in the planet’s atmosphere. Most of these particles are quite small, usually no more than the size of a grain of sand, and meteor shows are not specifically associated with the fall of meteorites, although it would not be impossible for a meteorite to result during a meteor shower. Interestingly, during a meteor shower the meteors will all appear to originate from a single point, while the meteor which produced Sokka’s meteorite did not originate from the same place as the other meteors – which would suggest it came from another direction and location, and its fall at the same time was merely a coincidence.

2)     The dark flight stage: Smaller meteoroids which do not produce large craters when they impact, but they will produce a fireball as they transit the atmosphere and are heated and ablated. However, the atmosphere slows them as they transit, and once they reach terminal velocity, where ablation stops, they enter a stage know as dark flight, where the stone continues to fly through the air for a period of time, but no more light is produced. This is more common for smaller stones, which are more easily slowed by the atmosphere, but large meteorites, including the largest single meteorite ever recovered, Hoba (which interestingly does not have an associated crater despite its large size – perhaps as a result of its shape causing it to slow significantly during its fall), may have experienced a similar effect. The reason I think this meteorite should have had a dark flight stage is because it remained intact upon impact.

3)     The crater – this meteorite did not, however, have a dark flight stage – rather, it produced a crater. Whether or not an impacting meteorite will result in a crater depends on a variety of factors, primarily its velocity and mass, but also affected by its makeup, what it is impacting into, the gravity of the planet (which primarily determines the shape of the crater for a particular impactor), etc. A general rule of thumb is that a stone larger than 10 meters in diameter and 100 tons will likely produce a crater. That is obviously not the case as shown here, but that does not necessarily mean this meteorite could not have produced a crater. The Whitecourt meteorite, for example, is believed to have been only ~1 meter in diameter, and produced a crater 36 meters in diameter and 6 meters deep (the crater pictured above). However, what is wrong here is that generally meteorites which produce craters will vaporize, melt, or fragment on impact, which is not the case with Sokka’s meteorite. Meteorites which remain intact tend to be traveling much slower, and so do not generally produce craters – hence either this intact meteorite should not have formed a crater and would probably have experienced dark flight, or else the crater should not have a single intact meteorite like it does.

4)     The strike: meteorite strikes are violent processes which excavate material surrounding the strike location – this is what forms the crater depression. This material then falls back to the ground, forming what is called an ejecta blanket around the crater, which is not observed in the show. But, meteorite impacts certainly can cause fires – returning to the Whitecourt crater, above the layer of its ejecta blanket is a layer of charcoal thought to have formed as a result of a forest fire started by the impact!

But could Sokka even have made a sword out of the meteorite material? The simple answer is yes – there are numerous historical cases of meteoritic iron being used to make blades (such as the dagger pictured above), including, interestingly enough, by people living in the Canadian arctic and Greenland, and there’s even a replica of Sokka’s sword forged using meteoritic iron (in part). This is due mainly to the fact that meteorites are an easy source of native iron, while other sources of iron such as the minerals magnetite and hematite require significant processing such as smelting to recover their iron components.

The more complicated answer is a heavy maybe, for a few reasons: While it is true that some meteorites are primarily composed of metal – which are called iron meteorites (top image), although they contain a fair amount of nickel as well, and often contain mineral impurities – these make up only about 5% of all meteorites ever recovered. The remainder is mostly what are known as stony meteorites (bottom image), and although these tend to have higher proportions of metal and iron-bearing minerals than many Earth rocks, it would not be nearly enough to forge a sword from. So, in other words, Sokka would need to be incredibly lucky.

The other reason has to do primarily with the nature of iron meteorites compared to most steel. Namely the mineral inclusions previously mentioned would likely constitute impurities in the metal which would actually weaken it, rather than strengthen it. Additionally, most steel contains at least some quantity of carbon, which helps the blade hold an edge and increases its strength (although it also contributes to brittleness).

But, is Sokka’s sword even made out of iron at all? Meteoritic iron doesn’t have any special properties compared to terrestrial iron that would make it stronger or able to cut through other metals, and nothing that would inherently produce the characteristic black colour of Sokka’s sword. So maybe in the Avatar universe, their meteorites are not made of iron-nickel metal at all, but some other kind of metal…

Take zirconium on the other hand. When heated to high temperatures (as is presumably the case during forging), the oxidation of the outer surface of the metal does produce a black layer, like we see on Sokka’s sword, and zirconium oxide knives do exist – of course, zirconium oxide is actually a ceramic, not a metal (the making of which is more complicated than just heating the metal), and so while its hardness is greater than that of steel, and reportedly zirconium oxide knives appear to hold their edge better (which has to do with the way ceramic blade wear in comparison to steel blades), they are also far more brittle than steel. Still, a zirconium blade could potentially explain some of the interesting properties of Sokka’s sword.

What, then, does this say about the Avatar world? Well to discuss that you need to know a little bit about iron meteorites. These meteorites are sourced from the metallic cores of fragmented planetesimals in the asteroid belt. Just like the core of the Earth, they are made up mostly of iron and nickel, because these are two of the most common heavy metallic elements, which separate as a result of gravitational forces because of their mass during planetary differentiation (when planetary bodies segregate into layers of crust, mantle, and core). So perhaps in the atla universe, zirconium is in high enough abundance that it could form at least a portion of the cores of planets there.

Which is weird, to say the least. Not just because its inconsistent with our own solar system, but because in the universe in general, the abundances of elements heavier than iron tend to drop off quite sharply, because they’re not generally produced during the normal life of an average star. Since zirconium (Zr) is heavier than iron (Fe), it should be far less common. But if it really were what was making up the metal in Sokka’s sword, their solar system would certainly be quite a remarkable one.

Of course, its far, far more likely that the look and properties of Sokka’s sword, and its meteoritic origin are just an excuse to give him a badass weapon. And honestly, he deserves it, so we can overlook the inaccuracy, even if it is fun to think about…

[themightyaliendwarf]

On Casting Actors (new Interview with a Vampire)

So, I'm not a huge expert on Vampire Chronicles. I'm only familiar with the first 3 books (Vampire Lestat being obviously my favourite) and I have vague knowledge on the later books. A knowledge about the stuff I didn't need to know, may I add - for example, the scene with Lestat and Dora + the whole Realm of Atlantis.

But I really enjoy those books and a movie! (yes, movie, singular). So, I was very happy when I saw they are announcing new series that would cover more of the stories. And then more announcements have been made...

Now, alright, I don't feel like everything has to be a 1:1 copy of the source material. Absolutely not! Forrest Gump is a perfect example of a movie being very different from the novel and, in result, being waaay better. But you have to be careful with what you change. Especially if the changes you are making, even if they are interesting, break worldbuilding.

So, lemme address the elephant in the room. Jacob Andreson has been cast to play Louis. While he might be a fantastic actor, it's a rather odd choice to pick a man of colour to play a French slave owner from the XVIII century. There, I said it! And, alright, I do think your capabilities as an actor are overall more important than how you look. But! I feel like in this case it looks more as a rewriting the history than picking your best option.

Obviously, I'm not saying people of colour shouldn't play major parts in media that are set in the past. But if the show you are making at least try to be somewhat historically accurate, I feel like it is your job, as a filmmaker, to approach this subject in a respectful and careful way.

A good example I can think of is The Musketeers by BBC In this show Porthos is a man of colour. Okay, how would a man of colour become a musketeer in the XVII France? They address it! They actually give him a backstory that explains it. They use this casting choice as a way to add something new in this story and, in my opinion, it went really well + let's now forget that Dumas had a black ancestor. So, making one of his character a person of colour is, in a way, a nod to the author.

So will dark-skinned Louis work? I honestly have a hard time imaging it. When I read the book, I would constantly find myself thinking "this guy is so white". And that's purely because who is was and how he would behave. I mean, this guy is so arogant and he constantly looks down on everybody + the historical context only leads me to one conclusion: of all the characters from the Vampire Chronicles, Louis is the most white. I think Armand or Nicolas would be perfect with darker skin, but not Louis.

Ok, so let's put some good stuff here too. Sam Reid as Lestat. I honestly find it hilarious that Lestat will be played by an Aussie. Don't know why, I just do :D I think my only criticism would be that he is way older than Lestat should be, but Tom Cruise was also about the same age as Reid. I don't think anybody would say that Cruise did a bad job as Lestat, so all good here. And Lestat is the best character (it's not an opinion, it's a fact), so as long as we have a good actor here, we are golden.

And now onto the news that made me write this already long post. Bailey Bass will play Claudia. So, Claudia is 5 when she is turned in the book. Obviously, it's not really possible to cast a 5-year-old in a role like this. You would have to use a creepy CGI baby from Twilight and I don't think we want that! In the movie, they cast a 11-year-old actress. I think she was fantastic and still true to the book. After all, 11-year-old-girl is still a child. Bass is 18. Now, I think she kinda looks like how I would imagine Claudia - the golden hair. But having Claudia this old is massively changing the story. I mean, really! Two of the main aspects of Claudia character are:

a) she uses her innocent looks to lure her victims, b) she is frustrated with her fragile and small body, and she blames Lestat&Louis for turning her at such a young age.

I don't think it works with a 18-year-old! At this point I can accept dark-skinned Louis, but this one is a bit too much. I feel like they are putting themselves into a place when they will have to make huge changes to the story. Yes, they might turn out to be alright, but there are reasons why I stopped watching American TV shows.

Overall, I'm still hoping it will turn out to be okeish as Netflix's Witcher (so, very different from books but still kinda enjoyable ~but only with Polish dubbing~), but I'm setting my expectations to be low.

[aroclawthornes]

Blooming Brilliant, an Aroace Willow Park Manifesto

[id: a gif of a heart locket opening. One half of the locket displays a picture of Willow Park from The Owl House, winking and making peace signs with her fingers. Blue and yellow stars surround her. The other half reads "willow park my beloved." /end id.]

Greetings! It’s me, User Aroclawthornes, and instead of working on all the time-sensitive homework I have I sat down and wrote an essay explaining why I think Willow Park OwlHouse could plausibly be read as aroace, and why it would be a thematically enriching interpretation. I’ve never written anything like this before, so it’s oddly formal, a little pretentious, and contains a lot of qualifying language, but I'm confident that it gets my point across. I’m not intending to speak over other interpretations of Willow or assert that it's the only true way to read her, but it's a headcanon I find interesting, and I think there’s a lot of evidence to back it up, between certain elements that Willow’s arc employs to some good old overanalysed symbolism. If you're aspec, I hope this is validating; if you're not, I hope it's interesting; if you don't care, scrolling past it is quick, free, and easy.

Some disclaimers on terminology: I’m speaking from an aroace perspective, and so when I say “aspec coding” I’m generally referring to both orientations as a catch-all - a lot of the coding surrounding Willow could go either way. I’m also going to be talking about commonly accepted “aspec” narratives, but I’m aware of the limitations of this insofar as my experiences are only a single facet of the diverse range of aspec people in this world, so anyone who wants to add or argue anything - respectfully - is encouraged to.

Analysis below the cut!

The Thing About Plants

I’m not going to pretend that an association with plants is historically indicative of aspec coding, because, frankly, there haven’t been enough aspec characters to establish it as a convention, and it’s also a fairly wide-reaching branch of symbolism. However, I am going to propose that lighthearted comparisons between asexual people and plants (however misguided on functions of plant reproduction they are) are fairly common elements of budding ace teenage humour, as are related quips about photosynthesis.

[id: a screenshot of Willow from "I Was A Teenage Abomination", depicting her sitting on the ground while casting a spell over a small, pink flower. /end id.]

I’m also not going to claim that the colour green Belongs To Aromantics, and therefore that All Plants Are Belong To Us, but in tandem with everything else I’m about to cover, the connection between Willow and plants seems like a fairly plausible nudge to a relatively common element of aspec humour.

“Half-a-witch” Willow and the Late Bloomer Experience

[id: a screenshot of Willow with glowing green eyes, from "I Was A Teenage Abomination", depicting her summoning a mess of thorned vines. /end id]

Willow is literally nicknamed “half-a-witch”, in reference to her supposedly incomplete state - this is a sentiment eerily reminiscent of the pressure to find one’s “other half”, which affects aspec - especially aromantic - people particularly profoundly. She’s considered a late bloomer, someone who hasn’t reached the societal milestones of growth at the expected age, and who is derided and considered immature as a result of this perceived failure. However, we quickly discover that Willow is, in fact, an exceptionally competent and powerful witch - taken out of the restricting frame of the Abominations track, she’s able to grow into her own, “complete” person, therefore proving that she was never really lacking in anything in the first place. Like real-life aroace people, she was perceived as limited and immature based on the expectations and judgements of other people, but Willow was never deficient in anything, least of all herself.

[id: a screenshot of Willow and Luz from "I Was A Teenage Abomination". They are holding hands - the former is laughing with her eyes closed, and the latter is grinning, while covered in abomination goop. /end id]

As far as symbolism goes...the track Willow is initially put in literally requires her to conjure up another humanoid entity, with the expectation that she will therefore prove herself to be a whole and mature person. Only with this ability, she’s told, will she be successful and happy as an adult. The shapelessness of her attempts at conjuring an abomination reinforces this connection in my mind - if I may reference this quote from Ducktales 2017‘s (absolutely stellar) A Nightmare On Killmotor Hill, in which the protagonists explore their own subconscious fears via. the dream realm, for a second:

“I think that’s supposed to be my romantic interest, but I’m too threatened by the concept, so it never takes shape.”

A lot of young aroace people find themselves in situations where they attempt to convince themself of their interest in someone in an attempt to be “normal,” or end up lying in response to family members or friends’ questions about crushes. While Willow’s abominations, first and foremost, represent the expectations from her school, classmates, and family to be a successful, “complete” witch with a profitable future, I think that with an aroace interpretation of Willow they could also very easily be read as representing some latent insecurities over a lack of attraction, or pressure to find a significant other.

(I’m not condemning Willow’s dads, by the way - they seem like perfectly lovely fellas, and I’m confident that they were doing what they thought was best for her. They’re certainly very quick to drop everything to assure her future in Escaping Expulsion, so obviously they care about their daughter very much.)

Greens, Blues, and Yellows: Colour-Coding Willow Park

A while back, I made this post comparing Willow’s palette to the aromantic and aroace flags:

[id: a screenshot of a post depicting the aromantic and aromantic asexual flags, colour-picked from images of Willow in her Hexside uniform and casual dress respectively - these are overlaid on top of the flags. The caption reads "observations on willow park". /end id.]

The grey-and-green aromantic flag has long been the accepted mainstream symbol of aromanticism, and, as the above post - and many others - demonstrate, Willow’s palette reflects it near-perfectly. This could easily be a coincidence, owing to the palette of the standard Hexside Plant Track uniform, as well as her hair and eye colours - which are obviously supposed to be reflective of her plant-related abilities. However, given how fond of employing hidden meanings The Owl House has shown itself to be, I don’t think it’s far-fetched to claim that there’s at least a chance that her palette was constructed with the flag in mind.

The latter is...a bit more problematic for me, although it’s fun to joke about. The blue-and-yellow aroace flag was only created in December 2018, relatively late into The Owl House’s initial production, and it’s still relatively obscure, although on the rise in popularity as the accepted aroace flag (I only recently started using it myself), so I don’t know if Willow’s casual wear is enough to verify the presence of any deliberate subtext. I think it’s a fun coincidence, however, and (as was pointed out in this post) it’s cool that these blue and yellow stars surrounding Willow occur in the same frame as Luz’s bisexual decor:

[id: a photograph of Luz, Gus, and Willow, all surrounding a disgruntled-looking Principal Bump. Luz has flowers in the colours of the bisexual flag decorating her hair, while Willow is surrounded by bright blue and yellow stars. /end id.]

also seen above: powerful bi/aspec solidarity

Conclusion:

Do I genuinely believe that Willow is being deliberately written this way? If you’d asked me, say, two months ago, I’d have said probably not - as far as queer representation in kids’ cartoons has come, it has a ways to go, and focusing on transgender characters seems like a more obvious (and equally invaluable) route to go down. I can name maybe five explicitly aspec characters off the top of my head, two of whom have been written as alloromantic and/or sexual in adaptations or continuations of the source material (I have...some grievances with 2005 Doctor Who). But the emergence of Raine, an explicitly nonbinary character on Disney Channel, has given me a little spark of hope, and so, even if it’s never confirmed, it’s comforting to be able to see a character with such strong elements of aspec coding and think to myself, just maybe, that there might be some intent behind it.

I also...really want to see interesting things done with Willow. We’re halfway through Season 2, and despite some promising setup for her arc in the Season 1 finale, she’s sort of been left by the wayside lately in favour of developing the more “plot-relevant” characters, such as Luz, Amity, Eda, and Hunter. Frankly, I think it’s a disservice to her Season 1 development, despite how much I adore all the characters I just listed - beyond any personal motivation, the prospect that Willow could be aroace adds a lot of sorely-sought depth to her, and, as detailed, a lot of this has already been set up in her earlier episodes. I just...I think it’d be neat. Rarely do you get a kids’ show so brazenly queer in its themes as Owl House, and aspec people deserve to be included in that.

Willow would also be great aroace representation because, well - those five or so aspec characters I mentioned being aware of are all white or “raceless” (...also written as white, basically), and so an aspec Asian character would be a really lovely step forward in this area. Additionally, all the characters I referred to are also conventionally skinny, and Willow is not only fat, but written in a way that doesn’t treat this feature as a caricature. People who are more knowledgeable on these topics than I are absolutely free to make additions, as is anyone who feels like I’ve left certain details out.

tl;dr: Willow’s association with plants could be read as a cool nod to aspec humour, her “late bloomer” narrative is eerily reminiscent of some common aspec experiences, her palette speaks for itself, and it’d be really cool if we could diversify the so-far fairly bland sphere of aspec representation.

I’m going to conclude this by linking Rose by The Oh Hellos, because they’re my favourite band, they share The Owl House’s initials, and I also think it’s a good Willow song. Peace out.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Why was Lorenzo such a jealous bitch nd why does this fandom treat him like he's a good person😑

okay so i know that this is a rethorical question but i've actually thought about this a lot so i'll take my crack at answering this - WHY is lorenzo such a jealous bitch?

the only thing he's said about why he hates magnus - that i remember of, at least - is the line "he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. his fame is not based on talent, it's all nepotism"

now, anyone who knows anything at all about magnus knows that not a single fucking word of this is true. magnus was born poor in a recently colonized country under a lot of oppression, there was no damn silver spoon in his mouth, and after that he was thoroughly abused by his demon father. his fame is also absolutely based on talent - he invented portals, for fuck's sake! and the "nepotism" comment barely makes sense. i assume he means it's just that magnus' power is all due to the fact that his father is demon royalty, which makes magnus more powerful than most warlocks

so, that explains what lorenzo is jealous of - magnus' power and prestige among warlocks (such as having been HWoB for decades) - but not what the fuck lorenzo's deal is (i mean, we've met plenty of other warlocks in the show, many of which weren't really fans of magnus, but no one other than lorenzo has this idea that magnus doesn't deserve his fame), or why magnus (because while like, yes, magnus is very powerful, i assume he's not the only son of a prince of hell, considering asmodeus is not the only prince of hell and these guys get on the loose, like, weekly. and lorenzo is obviously OBSESSED with him, he deliberately went out of his way and abused his power as HWoB several times specifically to antagonize him, and also, you know, TRIED TO KILL HIM)

lorenzo talks about magnus almost as if magnus took something from him. it's not just that magnus is powerful and that he supposedly doesn't deserve it, lorenzo obviously feels as if antagonizing magnus is some sort of vengeance. i know plenty of jealous people, but going as far as forbidding anyone other than himself from giving magnus a magic transfusion, specifically saying that if it went wrong he wouldn't help, and then refusing to take back the magic when he KNEW perfectly well that would kill him, is to me very obviously a thought out plan TO kill magnus. lorenzo had been hoping from the start that magnus' body would reject his magic and the transfusion would kill him - why else would he specifically say, the second he agreed to the transfusion, that if it went wrong magnus would be on his own?

and it's not like lorenzo even gains anything from that, other than killing magnus. and humiliating him, which lorenzo has said explicitly was something he wanted to do (i believe the term he used was "breaking his spirit", but potato potatoh). if it was about magnus' position of power, he already had that - lorenzo literally already had the HWoB position. if it was about magnus' magic, he had already lost it. lorenzo had absolutely NOTHING to gain from magnus, so his personal vendetta against him doesn't even make sense from JUST a jealousy standpoint. he had already "won" over magnus. the only explanation is that he wanted some kind of revenge

but revenge from what? well, we know that magnus and lorenzo don't like each other, but magnus never really TOOK anything from lorenzo. considering how he wouldn't miss an opportunity to talk about how much he hated him, i think lorenzo would have brought it up if that had been the case. and magnus is just not the kind of person to pull the rug from under other people's feet - look no further than the whole show for evidence of that. he literally puts the others above himself at all times (which is unhealthy but that's another story and something i've talked about plenty of times already)

so why does lorenzo feel so much resentment towards magnus? why does he act as if magnus' power took something that was rightfully his?

i think lorenzo feels that he was entitled to be the most powerful, to have the most prestige, to be above magnus, and he resented magnus because that was simply not true

why?

let's go back to the only thing we know about lorenzo's backstory - the baby painting. yes, it's a huge meme, but think about that for a second. lorenzo has a huge ass painting of himself as a baby that he displays proudly in his home and that's, like, his #1 stop at the house tour. the baby painting. "needless to say, being born in spain during the siglo de oro was quite the experience". is the first thing he said

let's make this abundantly clear: this line makes it canon that lorenzo is a colonizer. the siglo de oro ("golden century" in spanish) started (roughly) in 1492, year of the """""discovery""""" of the americas, and ended (roughly) in 1659, the year when spain signed a treaty and lost a bunch of their territories to france (link to source). altho the term is usually used to refer to the boom of the arts in spain, it's obvious, just from these historical landmarks, that the siglo de oro is about colonization. it's about the fact that at the time spain was at its peak colonial power, and could afford to exploit what later became third world countries, and put part of that money (in fact, the literal gold they were stealing from latin american countries) into arts and other luxuries (because in the renaissance portraits were a luxury item and a symbol of status - link to source) for the ultra rich that benefited from colonization

so, lorenzo is not only a colonizer, but he's a part of the elite. the fact that his family could afford to have a painting of him as a BABY (portraits were almost exclusively adult portraits, and usually of the whole family, unless you were even richer than the rich. and even then individual portraits were usually to celebrate important achievements such as a marriage or acquisition of state - a baby being born doesn't qualify, especially because at the time most babies died not long after birth anyway), and a HUGE painting on top of that, shows that they were just. loaded in an incomprehensible way. im talking jeff bezos level of riches. they were the elite of the biggest colonial empire of their century. so, ironically, lorenzo was born with a silver spoon in his mouth - everything that he had, he was born having, and he specifically had because it was being stolen due to a dramatically violent process of genocide and slavery, that he believed to be entitled to simply because he was born a spaniard/white. that is all canon, because in the shverse mundane history is the same as in real life. EVERYONE who was born in the colonial elites was taught that they were entitled to shit from other countries, that they were superior not only to other ppls but also to their own people - let's not forget that this was way before the advent of republics, those were monarchies. the ppl who were part of the elite straight up believed they were superior to others by virtue of god

"woah woah woah but lorenzo is played by javier muñoz who's brown" yeah, which is unfortunate, but he is still canonically a colonizer. first off, because it's not like they wanted someone to be lorenzo and were looking for brown people - they were looking for someone javier could play because he's a bigshot broadway actor who was also a fan of the show, and then they picked lorenzo. probably because the sh showrunners don't fucking know the difference between a latino and a spaniard. or maybe they do, but they thought, "eh, close enough". either way, lorenzo is a spaniard, and he was born a colonizer - ergo, he is white, regardless of what race his actor is, regardless of even what he looks like. there are plenty of white spaniards with similar skin tones to lorenzo, because what today is spain used to be a territory occupied by middle eastern ppl, and there was mixing. what makes whiteness is not skin tone, it's context, and the context of being a literal colonizer directly benefitting of the oppression of black and brown people is as white as it gets

so, to recap: lorenzo was born a white colonizer, and he was RAISED believing that everything he had, he was entitled to. he was entitled to it by virtue of god, because he was born a part of the rich elite in the richest colonial power in the world, and he had access to everything he could possibly want. and he wasn't just entitled to riches and power - which he still has, look at his fucking mansion, dude - but specifically to superiority to his peers. especially black and brown people, the source of his riches, the people who owe him the wealth he takes from them

and then he joins the warlock world, and not only is he not royalty (because presumably he is the son of a regular demon, not too high up in the hierarchy) but some brown guy is. and this guy is in a position of power over him (high warlock) and he is better than him (at magic, specifically, but also at everything including being a human being, but lorenzo doesn't care about that). and lorenzo is fucking livid, because he believes himself to be entitled to be the best, entitled to be treated as a superior, entitled to admiration and to servitude, especially from people like magnus (let's not forget that the philippines - colonized by spain during the siglo de oro - are right next to indonesia [link]). instead, magnus is, politically speaking, his superior

and it's not like it even means much because the high warlock position is implied to be kind of like, the mayor, and it's not like magnus ever abused his power (unlike some people - and sidenote, i think this backstory is also why lorenzo was so comfortable using his power to antagonize magnus: because he was raised in a context where political power was pretty much boundless and politics and the personal feelings of the ruler were not separated). so in practice its really just that if lorenzo had a problem, he could go to magnus, and if magnus made a decision that referred to all warlocks, lorenzo was supposed to follow it. it's nowhere near like, actual subservience. but it's way too much for someone who was raised to be entitled to the level that lorenzo was

so that's why he has this feeling that magnus took something from him - because in his head, everything magnus has, lorenzo should be entitled to. because in his head, any and all power rightfully belongs to him, and if magnus has it, then it has been stolen. and that might not even be conscious of his part or whatever, altho i doubt lorenzo doesn't think in explicitly racist terms at least in private, but that had been ingrained into his head for centuries on end. if it's still ingrained into the heads of white spaniards born TODAY, imagine one who was actually born at the fucking height of racist exploitation

so. yeah. that's why lorenzo is such a jealous bitch. that's why he hates magnus so much - because he feels that magnus having anything at all lorenzo doesn't is theft, and ironically, he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but believes that he earnt what he has whereas magnus didn't. it's not just jealousy, it's a profound feeling of racist vendetta, and i'm sure the sh writers didn't mean it that way, they were just writing a big villain to bring malec together, but death of the author, baby! and this explanation actually makes sense without having to change anything in canon, so, i feel very comfortable saying that's why lorenzo behaves the way he does

THIS POST IS NOT ABOUT THE BOOKS