#black sea slave trade

[worldwide-blackfolk]

Don’t ever think that there weren’t other #slaves; damn near every race on earth was enslaved at one time or another. Yes, we’re more concerned about Blackfolk, but it’s helpful to know otherwise too. Research it, look into Asia and other areas. Mankind will take a society that is a peaceful people and enslave them.

European slaves

See also: Balkan slave trade, Black Sea slave trade, and Bukhara slave trade

Saqaliba is a term used in medieval Arabic sources to refer to Slavs and other peoples of Central, Southern, and Eastern Europe, or in a broad sense to European slaves under Arab Islamic rule.[citation needed]

Through the Middle Ages up until the early modern period,[76] a major source of slaves sent to Muslim lands was Central and Eastern Europe. Slaves of Northwestern Europe were also favored. The slaves captured were sent to Islamic lands like Spain and Egypt through France and Venice. Prague served as a major centre for castration of Slavic captives.[77][78] The Emirate of Bari also served as an important port for trade of such slaves.[79] After the Byzantine Empire and Venice blocked Arab merchants from European ports, Arabs started importing slaves from the Caucasus and Caspian Sea regions, shipping them off as far east as Transoxiana in Central Asia.[80] Despite this, slaves taken in battle or from minor raids in continental Europe remained a steady resource in many regions. The Ottoman Empire used slaves from the Balkans and Eastern Europe. The Janissaries were primarily composed of enslaved Europeans. Slaving raids by Barbary Pirates on the coasts of Western Europe as far as Iceland remained a source of slaves until suppressed in the early 19th century. Common roles filled by European slaves ranged from laborers to concubines, and even soldiers.

Christians became part of harems as slaves in the Balkans and Asia Minor when the Turks invaded. Muslim qadis owned Christian slave girls. Greek girls who were pretty were forced into prostitution after being enslaved to Turks who took all their earnings in the 14th century according to Ibn Battuta.[81]

[fireismine]

DAENERYS TARGARYEN APPRECIATION WEEK 2023

Day 4: Character Parallels → Rhaena the Black Bride and Daenerys Stormborn

The Queen in the West:

In the Red Keep of King’s Landing sat the Queen Regent Alyssa, widow of the late King Aenys, mother to his son Jaehaerys, and wife to the King’s Hand, Rogar Baratheon. Just across Blackwater Bay on Dragonstone, a younger queen had arisen when Alyssa’s daughter Alysanne, a maid of thirteen years, had pledged her troth to her brother King Jaehaerys, against the wishes of her mother and her mother’s lord husband. And far to the west on Fair Isle, with the whole width of Westeros separating her from both mother and sister, was Alyssa’s eldest daughter, the dragonrider Rhaena Targaryen, widow of Prince Aegon the Uncrowned. In the westerlands, riverlands, and parts of the Reach, men were already calling her the Queen in the West. - A Surfeit of Rulers, Fire and Blood

~

Dany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. "Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him." - Daenerys II, A Storm of Swords

Three Husbands:

Rhaena was married to Aegon the Uncrowned, Maegor the Cruel and Androw Farman.

~

Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . . – Daenerys IV, A Clash of Kings

The Queen in the East:

“Done,” the king said…mayhaps too hastily, for it must be remembered that Aerea Targaryen, a girl of eight, was his own acknowledged successor, heir apparent to the Iron Throne. The consequences of this decision would not be known for years to come, however. For the nonce it was done, and the Queen in the West at a stroke became the Queen in the East. - A Time of Testing: The Realm Remade, Fire and Blood

~

"The best calumnies are spiced with truth," suggested Qavo, "but the girl's true sin cannot be denied. This arrogant child has taken it upon herself to smash the slave trade, but that traffic was never confined to Slaver's Bay. It was part of the sea of trade that spanned the world, and the dragon queen has clouded the water. Behind the Black Wall, lords of ancient blood sleep poorly, listening as their kitchen slaves sharpen their long knives. Slaves grow our food, clean our streets, teach our young. They guard our walls, row our galleys, fight our battles. And now when they look east, they see this young queen shining from afar, this breaker of chains. The Old Blood cannot suffer that. Poor men hate her too. Even the vilest beggar stands higher than a slave. This dragon queen would rob him of that consolation." - Tyrion VI, A Dance with Dragons

Refusing to Cry

When word of the battle reached the west and Princess Rhaena learned that both her husband and her friend Lady Melony had fallen, it is said she heard the news in a stony silence. “Will you not weep?” she was asked, to which she replied, “I do not have the time for tears.” - The Sons of the Dragon, Fire and Blood

~

His business done, the captain of the Indigo Star bowed and took his leave. Dany shifted uncomfortably on the ebony bench. She dreaded what must come next, yet she knew she had put it off too long already. Yunkai and Astapor, threats of war, marriage proposals, the march west looming over all . . . I need my knights. I need their swords, and I need their counsel. Yet the thought of seeing Jorah Mormont again made her feel as if she'd swallowed a spoonful of flies; angry, agitated, sick. She could almost feel them buzzing round her belly. I am the blood of the dragon. I must be strong. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them, not tears. "Tell Belwas to bring my knights," Dany commanded, before she could change her mind. "My good knights." - Daenerys VI, A Storm of Swords

Gains Confidence After Bonding with a Dragon:

At the age of nine, however, Rhaena was presented with a hatchling from the pits of Dragonstone, and she and the young dragon she named Dreamfyre bonded instantly. With her dragon beside her, the princess slowly began to grow out of her shyness; at the age of twelve she took to the skies for the first time, and thereafter, though she remained a quiet girl, no one dared to call her timid. - The Sons of the Dragon, Fire and Blood

~

Day followed day, and night followed night, until Dany knew she could not endure a moment longer. She would kill herself rather than go on, she decided one night … Yet when she slept that night, she dreamt the dragon dream again. Viserys was not in it this time. There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Dany sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma, and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her. She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce. And the next day, strangely, she did not seem to hurt quite so much. It was as if the gods had heard her and taken pity. Even her handmaids noticed the change. "Khaleesi," Jhiqui said, "what is wrong? Are you sick?" "I was," she answered, standing over the dragon's eggs that Illyrio had given her when she wed. She touched one, the largest of the three, running her hand lightly over the shell. Black-and-scarlet, she thought, like the dragon in my dream. The stone felt strangely warm beneath her fingers … or was she still dreaming? She pulled her hand back nervously. - Daenerys III, A Game of Thrones

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Poly! Kanej x gn! Reader - Bound to one another

A/n: This was a fun one to write, and originally it was going to be longer (kaz and inej are barely in it lol) but my trail of thought for this one ended. Regardless, I hope you all still like it!

Summary: As an anniversary gift, Inej gifts the three of you matching knives with your titles on them. You are confused by yours.

Warnings: killing, swearing, kidnapping, slavers, the slave trade in the grishaverse, violence, not too graphic gore, I think that's it? You have been warned!

The three P's:

[Pov: 2nd person] [Pronouns used: you/your] [Pairings: (poly!) (romantic!) kanej x reader]

As always, not my gif

It had been a week before your anniversary and Inej (despite the three of you agreeing not to) had decided to gift each of you a knife. As she claimed she wasn't going to be back from the seas until the day after so she had to give it to you now.

They looked the same to the unassuming eye - cold, black, slick, grisha steel daggers. Yet every one of them had a name forged onto the blade that you could only see under certain lights.

Inej's inscribed Queen of Thieves, Kaz had Crow King, and yours was Ketterdam's Ruler.

At first yours had confused you, Inej's made sense, she really was the queen of thieves, and Kaz's was just bluntly obvious but yours seemed to always escape your mind any time you felt close to an answer. How could you be the ruler of Ketterdam, when there was already a crowning king and queen?

Even after being with the two of them after all this time doubts like this always clouded your mind, they were after all together before you ever came into the picture. What if the frame didn't fit with you in it? What if Ketterdam didn't need another Monarch?

Then the doubts would quell when Kaz would brush his hand against yours, or when Inej would slide you a book that you wanted to get and hadn't even mentioned it to her yet.

Of course they didn't disappear, like Inej they were never truly gone, but right now you had more pressing issues.

"Y/n, you need to get out of here." Kaz hissed at you as the both of you had your bodies pressed up against a wall as you peaked around to check if there were any guards.

This time it wasn't a merchant's mansion where you were going to steal some jewel, or other valuable. This wasn't even a heist, originally you had gone alone but Kaz had tailed you to the slaver's house and now he had decided to show himself.

Another reason you weren't truly in rank with your lovers, you couldn't pin point their presences when they could do it with each other.

The reason you were at this slaver's house was actually your girlfriend's and boyfriend's anniversary present.

"Why did you follow me Kaz." You growl back quietly as you see the guards go through their next rotation.

"Inej is back."

Shit.

How could you forget that Inej was coming back today? The day where the three of you were having your unofficial anniversary nonetheless! Although that was the whole reason why you were here, yet it didn't push down your disappointment in yourself. The three of you had made a pact that you were not allowed to go on any jobs the day Inej comes back from the seas. Of course you were the one to break it.

Though, you weren't technically on a job.

"This is important Kaz, tell Inej I'll be there in an hour."

Ouch, that would hurt your plan a bit but you would stick to it nevertheless. You wouldn't let them down more than you already had.

"No."

You took a quick glance at Kaz to see his face glaring back at you before you looked back and saw your opening.

"I promise this isn't a job, I'll be there in an hour and if not wait thirty more minutes then you can bust me if you want."

Kaz sighed as your heartbeat quickens with the adrenaline starting to course through your veins.

"Fine, one hour."

You grinned at him before taking your opening.

His name is Ethan Sullivan, and you were going to kill him.

Your motive for killing this bastard was simple, or rather it was simple to you.

He's a slaver who not only has been getting on Inej's ass but nearly killed her. Then he captured Jesper and only let him go after he got Kaz.

While Kaz had escaped fairly quickly he still had found out your significant others weakness; each other, and now he was dangerous. Very dangerous.

Your pretty crows were waiting to find the right moment when to strike him back, but you knew he wouldn't whittle his life on a pleasantly soft sofa as he figured out the secret to take over the barrel. His plans had to be going out soon, which meant he was an admirable foe and dangerous - too dangerous. He had to be put down, permanently.

"Come here." Sullivan croaked over to you as you posed as a servant with a blanket resting over your arm. "Help me out of bed."

You had chosen the precise time where you could be alone with him, so that no one could disturb your little scheme. You even made sure to lock the door on your way in, then you would escape through his window.

Moving towards the man you felt the weight of the dagger Inej had given you weighing down your pocket.

Ketterdam's Ruler.

"Move quicker would you!" He snapped at you and it's there you make your decision.

You do move quickly, though as you do you leap on top of him and place the stygian blade to his throat.

He tries to cry out but you shush him like he's a child and press the knife close to his throat.

"Ethan Sullivan, you nearly killed the Wraith, and you captured Dirtyhands, now I'm here for vengeance."

He laughed, and it almost sent a shiver down your spine, you're sure that's the laugh many children have heard as they beg for their parents.

"I was just evening out the odds, nothing wrong about that." He grinned. "Ketterdam might just eat them alive because of it though."

Fury flashed through you, yet instead of slashing his throat right in that moment like Inej would have done, like Kaz would have finished, rather you took his throat in between your hand.

He chocked, and his eyes widened when you tightened it.

"Mercy!" He managed to chock out, the words barely leaving his purple lips.

You would grab him with an iron fist and show him what your mercy is.

What Ketterdam's mercy is.

Using your other, free hand you twirled the dagger in it and the title Inej had given you through it glared back at you, then you plunged it into his thigh.

He tried to scream but it was muffled by the hand around his throat.

"That was for my treasure Inej, she wouldn't have wanted you to suffer much."

You pulled it out and before he could even attempt to scream again you sliced open his face.

"And that." You grunted through gritted teeth. "Was for my lovely Kaz, he would have wanted you to suffer, very much."

Releasing the hand on his throat he tried to break away from your grip, but you held him down and put the dagger against his throat for the last time.

"I am Ketterdam's ruler, and this is my mercy."

Then you cut his throat.

You didn't bother to watch him chock on his own blood before you were out the window, checking your watch. You were so late, and dressed like a servant nonetheless.

Yet, the disappointment, the fury at yourself for finding yet another thing lacking that your lovers had that you did not, didn't come. You have protected your own tonight, you've sent a message to all who listen closely to the whispers of drunken shadows and barrel rats. You were Ketterdam's ruler, you ranked far above Inej and Kaz and would do anything to protect them.

The three of you were equals in this game, but when it came to their safety you had the ultimate say over this filthy city. You are Ketterdam's ruler, you keep her on line when she gets too wild, and let her off her leash when people need to pay their dues.

Like Ethan Sullivan, and you think there will be others still, that's alright with you. They will be no match for your mercy.

Words 1343

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06

[secular-jew]

Colonialism is a disease

Imagine being an Arab Muslim and having the audacity to call someone else a colonizer. The illustration below is a snapshot of Islamic colonialism and occupation of other people's lands, from the 7th-9th centuries. Islam went on to attack, destroy, occupy and colonize vast swaths of Europe and southeast Asia, as well as what is now called Turkey.

The world has witnessed many colonial empires since the beginning of time. Most notably, the Mongols, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Babylonians, Egyptians, Islam/Ottomans, Portuguese, Dutch, French, Spanish, British, and American. The only empire that didn't take land, even after winning world wars, were the Americans. They actually gave back the Philippines. But I digress.

All of these empires were in large part, created by bloody conquest, and built on the backs of the newly subjugated. The Hebrews were, famously, slaves in Egypt. No one seems to teach this in the west, focusing more on the Romans, but of all the colonialists, one of the most deadly brutal and expansionist empires were the Muslims aka the Islamists. The Islamic empire expanded by sheer, from Medina (where Muhammad massacred and enslaved the 50% majority Jewish population) all the way into western North Africa, much of Europe, and large populations of Southeast Asia (Indonesia, Malaysia, parts of India now called Pakistan, etc). As it expanded using violence and fear, Islam literally took 100 million slaves out of Africa, and was responsible for one of the greatest mass murders in history: killing 10 million (or more) on the forced march from their homelands to the Middle East.

Some examples of Islamic slavery include the Al-Andalus slave trade, the Trans-Saharan slave trade, the Indian Ocean slave trade, the Comoros slave trade, the Zanzibar slave trade, the Red Sea slave trade, the Barbary slave trade, the Ottoman slave trade, the Black Sea slave trade, the Bukhara (Uzbekistan) slave trade, and the Khivan slave trade from which Islam took millions of slaves out of Persia to the Islamic khanates. There are Arab/Islamic societies today (Libya, a well-known example) that still trade slaves.

Compare this to Israel. Israel/Judea was never colonial nor expansionist. The Hebrews (aka Jews) were often properties of and were subjugated by, colonial empires, including the Islamic colonial empire.

They Hebrews themselves, as noted above, were most famously slaves of the the colonial Egyptian empire, some 4,000 years ago, before being murdered and subjugated by Islam starting in the 7th century. Somehow able to escape Egyptian tyranny through their own efforts (some say, by the grace of Hashem), the Hebrews settled in their current indigenous homeland 3.600 years ago - a small area by global standards, smaller than Belize, Albania, or Montenegro. They were happy there, and even at their peak, did not attempt to force convert others or expand much beyond their lands.

As historian Barbara Tuchman wrote, Israel is “the only nation in the world that is governing itself in the same territory, under the same name, and with the same religion and same language as it did 3,000 years ago.” Despite all the occupations and forced exiles, the Jews/Hebrews/Israelites have maintained a continuous presence in Judea/Israel/Samaria for some 3,600+ years. And even though Israel was granted modern statehood in 1948, it is one of the oldest continuously maintained countries in the world. The 'modern' state of Israel came to fruition post WWII, in 1948; the redefinition of borders and modern statehood after the fall of the big colonials was in no way unusual to Israel. Many country's modern borders came to be defined in the post colonial period (post WWI & WWII). While Israel and Lebanon and Iraq and Iran and Syria and Egypt were all ancient civilizations, dating back thousands of years, modern statehood came in the 20th century: For example, statehood was granted to Egypt in 1922; Saudi Arabia and Iraq in 1932; Lebanon in 1943; Indonesia, South Korea & Vietnam in 1945; Syria & Jordan in 1946; India & Pakistan in 1947; Israel, & Myanmar in 1948; Laos, Libya & Bhutan in 1951; Cambodia in 1953; Morocco, Sudan & Tunisia in 1956; Ghana & Malaysia in 1957; and so on.

The problem is, the tribalism and supremacy of Islam, can't stand that it's once-conquered land is now in the hands of the original owners. Islam believes that once it puts a flag in the sand somewhere, it's theirs.

Oh, and by the way, Andalusia (Spain) is next in Islam's sights.

[probablyasocialecologist]

While enslaved people were mostly overseas, in colonies, out of sight, slavery funded British wealth and institutions from the Bank of England to the Royal Mail. The extent to which modern Britain was shaped by the profits of the transatlantic slave economy was made even clearer with the launch in 2013 of the Legacies of British Slave-ownership project at University College London. It digitised the records of tens of thousands of people who claimed compensation from the government when colonial slavery was abolished in 1833, making it far easier to see how the wealth created by slavery spread throughout Britain after abolition. “Slave-ownership,” the researchers concluded, “permeated the British elites of the early 19th century and helped form the elites of the 20th century.” (Among others, it showed that David Cameron’s ancestors, and the founders of the Greene King pub chain, had enslaved people.)

But as Bell-Romero would write in his report on Caius, “the legacies of enslavement encompassed far more than the ownership of plantations and investments in the slave trade”. Scholars undertaking this kind of archival research typically look at the myriad ways in which individuals linked to an institution might have profited from slavery – ranging from direct involvement in the trade of enslaved people or the goods they produced, to one-step-removed financial interests such as holding shares in slave-trading entities such as the South Sea or East India Companies.

Bronwen Everill, an expert in the history of slavery and a fellow at Caius, points out “how widespread and mundane all of this was”. Mapping these connections, she says, simply “makes it much harder to hold the belief that Britain suddenly rose to power through its innate qualities; actually, this great wealth is linked to a very specific moment of wealth creation through the dramatic exploitation of African labour.”

This academic interest in forensically quantifying British institutions’ involvement in slavery has been steadily growing for several decades. But in recent years, this has been accompanied by calls for Britain to re-evaluate its imperial history, starting with the Rhodes Must Fall campaign in 2015. The Black Lives Matter protests of 2020 turbo-charged the debate, and in response, more institutions in the UK commissioned research on their historic links to slavery – including the Bank of England, Lloyd’s, the National Trust, the Joseph Rowntree Foundation and the Guardian.

But as public interest in exploring and quantifying Britain’s historic links to slavery exploded in 2020, so too did a conservative backlash against “wokery”. Critics argue that the whole enterprise of examining historic links to slavery is an exercise in denigrating Britain and seeking out evidence for a foregone conclusion. Debate quickly ceases to be about the research itself – and becomes a proxy for questions of national pride. “What seems to make people really angry is the suggestion of change [in response to this sort of research], or the removal of specific things – statues, names – which is taken as a suggestion that people today should be guilty,” said Natalie Zacek, an academic at the University of Manchester who is writing a book on English universities and slavery. “I’ve never quite gotten to the bottom of that – no one is saying you, today, are a terrible person because you’re white. We’re simply saying there is another story here.”

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Francis Barber

Originally from Jamaica, Francis Barber (about 1745 to 1801) was Samuel Johnson's valet and secretary at his house in Gough Square, London.

Barber arranged Johnson's trips, received documents and kept his diary. Johnson was known to be very fond of Barber – when as a youth he ran away to sea, Johnson arranged for him to be discharged. He later paid for him to be educated at Bishop's Stortford School.

When Johnson died in 1784 he left an annuity of £70 and a gold watch to Barber. He settled in Litchfield, Staffordshire, where his descendants still live.

https://historicengland.org.uk/research/inclusive-heritage/the-slave-trade-and-abolition/sites-of-memory/black-lives-in-england/servants/

[fatehbaz]

As early as 1700, Samuel Sewall, the renowned Boston judge and diarist, connected “the two most dominant moral questions of that moment: the rapid rise of the slave trade and the support of global piracy” in many American colonies [...]. In the course of the eighteenth century, [...] [there was a] semantic shift in the [literary] trope of piracy in the Atlantic context, turning its [...] connotations from exploration and adventure to slavery and exploitation. [...] [A] large share of Atlantic seafaring took place in the service of the circum-Atlantic slave trade, serving European empire-building in the Americas. [...] Ships have been cast as important sites of struggle and as symbols of escape in [...] Black Atlantic consciousness, from Olaudah Equiano’s Interesting Narrative (1789) and Richard Hildreth’s The Slave: or Memoir of Archy Moore (1836 [...]) to nineteenth century Atlantic abolitionist literature such as Frederick Douglass’s My Bondage and My Freedom (1855) or Martin Delany’s Blake (1859-1862). [...] Black and white abolitionists across the Atlantic world were imagining a different social order revolving around issues of resistance, liberty, (human) property, and (il)legality [...].

---

Using black pirates as figures of resistance [...], Maxwell Philip’s novel Emmanuel Appadocca (1854) emphasizes the nexus of insatiable material desire and its conditions of production: slavery. [...] [T]he consumption of commodities produced by slave labor itself was delegitimized [...]. Philip, a Trinidadian [and "illegitimate" "colored" child] [...], published Emmanuel Appadocca as a protest against slavery in the United States [following the Fugitive Slave laws of 1850.]. [...] [The novel places] at its center [...] a heroic non-white pirate and intellectual [...] [whose] pirate ship [...] [is] significantly named The Black Schooner [...]. One of the central discourses in [the book] is that of legitimacy, of rights and lawfulness, of both slavery and piracy [...]. About midway into the book, Appadocca gives a [...] speech in which he argues that colonialism itself is a piratical system:

If I am guilty of piracy, you, too [are] [...] guilty of the very same crime. ... [T]he whole of the civilized world turns, exists, and grows enormous on the licensed system of robbing and thieving, which you seem to criminate so much ... The people which a convenient position ... first consolidated, developed, and enriched, ... sends forth its numerous and powerful ships to scour the seas, the penetrate into unknown regions, where discovering new and rich countries, they, in the name of civilization, first open an intercourse with the peaceful and contented inhabitants, next contrive to provoke a quarrel, which always terminates in a war that leaves them the conquerors and possessors of the land. ... [T]he straggling [...] portions of a certain race [...] are chosen. The coasts of the country on which nature has placed them, are immediately lined with ships of acquisitive voyagers, who kidnap and tear them away [...].

In this [...], slavery appears as a direct consequence of the colonial venture encompassing the entire “civilized world,” and “powerful ships” - the narrator refers to the slavers here - are this world’s empire builders. [...] Piracy, for Philip, signifies a just rebellion, a private, legitimate [resistance] against colonial exploiters and economic inequality - he repeatedly invokes their solidarity as misfortunate outcasts [...].

---

All text above by: Alexandra Ganser. “Cultural Constructions of Piracy During the Crisis Over Slavery.” A chapter from Crisis and Legitimacy in the Atlantic American Narratives of Piracy: 1678-1865. Published 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[iamnot-crazy]

Stowaway Chapter 3

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Info: This is my first time posting a story on Tumblr and my first time writing a x reader.

Summary:

The reader is a slave to a nobleman due to her devil's fruit ability which allows her to control the emotions of the people around her. She flees to bump into Trafalgar Law and boards his ship.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

You have now made it your nightly routine to visit your captain once everyone has fallen asleep. You wouldn't use your power every night though sometimes you would sit in the corner you had made and read books with him or allow him to ramble to you to sort out his thoughts. After visiting a town you come back that night to find a black beanbag sitting in the corner you always sit in. You smiled taking it as your invitation to visit more often even when everyone is awake and can notice you sneaking into his office. Rumors did start to spread but they were all cut down by a quick glare from their captain. 

Your powers started to increase now being able to feel people's emotions from across the room now when someone approaches you about their problems you are quick to know who it is and how they are feeling. You revealed your new ability by accident after a very long day when a crew member approached you from behind and you spoke up before they came within 3 feet of you, "No Shachi, Ikkaku is not mad at you for your last prank." You paused trying to read Ikkaku's emotion from across the room, "But she is extremely hungry if you want to make it up to her you should get her something to eat." You spoke without lifting your head and continued to rest on the table in front of you. Shachi froze holding his hand up ready to tap you on the shoulder but shook off any weird thoughts he might have about you and chalked it up to you knowing everyone so well. He smiled with a thank you and ran off to find some food for his angry crewmate. 

Your slip-up would not have been a problem if it wasn't for Law sitting next to you reading the paper. Later that night when you came into his office he immediately questioned you, "Since when have you been able to feel other people's emotions." 

You shrugged, "about 3 weeks ago." you then picked up your current read off the beanbag before plopped down on it. But Law was quick to do the math and realize that was the day he fixed your tattoo. 

"How does it work?" He asked curiously, 

You shrugged again, "I don't know it first started I had to be touching the person then I realized if I take my gloves off I can feel the emotions of the people around me." 

"Your gloves are laced with Seas Prism right?" He question reaching out for your glove to investigate further. You pulled the glove off and handed it to him to investigate. When he put the glove on he tried to call a room but the biggest it would go was the size of a quarter. "If the gloves are limiting your abilities, I wonder how powerful you can be." 

"That would be the goal of the gloves." You state not looking up from your book.

"Have you tried keeping your gloves off for a day?" He asked taking the gloves off and creating a room the size of the office and shambling the book in front of him trading it for another book on sea prism. The first book neatly replaced the new one on the shelves, ever since you began to crash his office you have been bickering with him about putting books back on the shelves and not just on the floor or desk and his office has now been the neatest it has ever been, it was still a mess with paperwork sprawled on the desk and the books are not in any particular order but you still consider it a win. 

"I don't enjoy the feeling of everyone's emotions." You state answering his earlier question. But he ignored your response and continued to read about sea prism and its effects on devil fruit users. No book mentions anyone trying to conceal their powers like you do forcing its limitation. He swaps the book out for another on devil fruits and he finds a section about the feel-feel fruit. His eyes darted across the page surprised he hadn't read up on your powers before. 

You slam your book shut gaining his attention, "I can feel your brain working overtime. Please don't tell me you are reading up on my devil fruit abilities." You watch as he quickly closes the book and shuffles it off to the side biting the inside of his cheek. You shake your head, "I didn't choose to have this devil fruit ability yes it has its perks but it has mostly just caused pain in my life." You grab the glove off his desk and place it back on your hand limiting the range of your powers and blocking off the feeling of guilt your captain was radiating. "I would prefer to keep my powers limited." You snatch the book off the desk and place it back on the shelf in a spot where you'll be able to tell if it moved. "Maybe it's time to head to sleep." 

Law sighed, "I think I am going to stay up a bit longer." He stated turning back to his desk and notes.

"Fine but please don't try and learn more about my powers and if you do please don't tell me I don't want to know." You sigh before walking out of the room.

Law stayed true to your ask and the devil fruit book stayed in its position on the shelf but his eyes kept hovering over the book, he just wanted to know if you knew how he was starting to feel towards you but he thinks he already knew that answer. 

**

The ship docked at an island with a large town and the crew was ready to explore. Everyone departed from the ship and took off down the street exploring the shops. You, Shachi, and Ikkaku decided to explore together mainly Ikkaku and you dragged Shachi along on your shopping trip for clothing. 

Bepo and Law went out together unable to contain the crew who was excited to depart from the ship and stretch their legs. Law dragged Bepo into the bookstore where they collected a large stack of books. 

You laughed as you skipped down the street and Shachi groaned holding two bags of clothing for you and Ikkaku. Suddenly you bumped into someone and you turned around to quickly apologize but froze when you saw who you bumped into. A large arm reached down and grabbed your arm yanking you upwards. 

You let out a small scream as the large man held your arm and pulled you off the ground. Ikkaku and Shachi quickly began shouting at the man and running towards you, Shachi even dropped the bags he was holding. 

"I haven't seen you in a long time where have you been?" The man hissed in your face spitting slightly, You started to pull at your arm trying to free yourself. "Your master is worried sick about you. I should bring you to him, maybe he will reward me if I do. Or maybe he will let me beat you back into submission." 

You pale and stop struggling in fear, your eyes never leaving the man who would visit the mansion often to abuse your ability and beat you when he wasn't satisfied. Your master allowed it thinking you would learn how to use your powers more if the sense was beaten into you. Your heart was pounding outside your chest and the world seemed to have stopped. 

Your ears rang with static drawing out any noise Ikkaku and Shachi were making as the guards of the man held them back. The only thing you could hear was the threats the man was making and your heart racing. 

"ROOM!"

"SHAMBLES!"

You felt the grip on your arm disappear and you were surrounded by fur lying in Bepo's arms you could nearly make out the figure of your captain with his sword out and in a fighting stance in front of you. "Take her back to the ship." He hissed his voice breaking through the static. You turned your head into Bepo's chest and began sobbing. You couldn't do anything in the arms of your past abuser but stare and panic. 

Bepo ran as fast as he could away from the fight the Captain was ending. Without a second thought, Law ran up to the man who held you hostage and sliced him in half using his fruit ability to keep him alive while doing so. The guards turned to help their commander but were held back by Ikkaku and Shachi who pulled out their katanas and began fighting back. 

The man Law had cut in half just began laughing, "So she has been with you Trafalgar Law, has she been treating you well?" He laughed so more, "Oh how I missed her powers always made my day so refreshing and when it didn't teaching her a lesson would." 

Law's knuckles went white as he ran up to the man using his powers to conduct an electric shock to the half of his body where his heart lay. "YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER AGAIN!" Law shouted conducting another electric shock on the man who lay unconscious on the ground from the first blow. Law screamed as he continued to slash at the man dicing him into pieces. 

Law stopped when more of his crew joined in the fight taking down the guards. Penguin was the first to run up to his captain to try to stop the terror he was inflicting upon the man who was probably a noble of some sort. He grabbed the arm of his captain and pulled it backward to convince him to stop and follow them as now they needed to make a quick escape before the Marines showed up. 

They left but the man before them was not dead but in so many pieces it would take the Marines all day to put him back together and Law hoped that process would be antagonizing. 

The crew rushed aboard the ship where you remained in Bepo's arms crying uncontrollably. The rest of the crew was already aboard the ship surrounding Bepo and you with concern. They turned when Law approached scared of his reactions and quickly stepped out of his way as he approached you. 

Bepo was holding you tight trying to calm you bouncing you like a baby but nothing was working. Your breathing started to hicks as you attempted to suck in air but were unable to in your state which cause more panic inside of you and you began to choke yourself in sobs. Law noticed this and immediately ran over to you trying to calm you but nothing he could do would work, he picked up a nearby rock shouting shambles, replaced it with a sedative, and swiftly stabbed it into your arm. 

Your breathing and heart rate slowed back to normal levels and your sobs quieted. Bepo's tight grip on you loosens and the mink looks up at his captain for answers along with the rest of the crew. 

"Who was that guy?" Shachi finally spoke up above the quiet blanket that covered the crew. 

"Somebody from y/n past." Law answers not speaking much on your past without your say.  He places two fingers on your neck to observe your heart rate.

"He said her master missed her... Was.. Was y/n a slave?" Ikkaku dared to ask the larger question and the crew was filled with confusion and anger the feeling of protectiveness of the crew could be felt from a mile away.

Law pulled you out of Bepo's arms and into his own, "I will not answer questions about, y/n, while she is unable to speak for herself. We need to leave this town before the Marines show up. prepare the ship for dive." He ordered before storming off with you in his arms. He made a beeline for the Medical room placing you comfortably down on the table. He checked your heart rate for the hundredth time to ensure that not only were you alive but that you were not having an adverse reaction to the sedative. 

After an hour of Law bouncing his knee impatiently waiting for you to wake up and crewmembers approaching the door debating about asking for an update you finally woke up. Your eyes fluttered open and your arm reached to your head to block the light in your eyes. As soon as you moved Law jumped onto his feet, "Y/N!" 

You moaned in response, "What happened?" you looked over at Law, whose eye bags were darker than normal and his emotions of worry and concern hit you like a rock. You looked at your hand to see that your gloves were missing which is why you could feel not only Laws worry but the entire crew who rested outside the door. "Where are my gloves?" You mumbled trying to sit up. 

Law passed the gloves he was holding to one keep his powers in check and two to ensure the gloves would not hinder your recovery. You put the gloves on closing off your connection to the emotions of the entire crew. With your gloves on you could now feel your own emotions hit you like a wave as the memories of today came back. Your head began to split with pain and the room began to spin. Unable to contain yourself you hunched over and vomited on the floor followed by tears. Law grabbed you by your shoulder keeping you stable.

"y/n look at me. Look at me." Law begged so you lifted your head and met his eyes. Your eyes were the darkest black that he had ever seen. "He is gone he not going to hurt you ever again."

You sniffled away some tears, "I was so scared Law. I was so scared and I didn't do anything just stared. I... I. Can't go back... They'll break me. I can't go back." you sobbed into your captain's shoulder.

He held you close to him and patted your head. "you won't I promise." he rubbed your back to comfort you as you sobbed. "have you ever heard of the will of D."

You pull back shaking your head and wiping away your tears to look at him clearly. "the will of D refers to the family of D which is also referred to as the natural enemy of god. And the celestial dragons refer to themselves as Gods." your mind wandered searching for his point. "my full name is Trafalgar D. Water Law." he paused to wipe away a stray tear of yours, "which means no one can touch you not while I'm here."

You smiled but tears still built up in your eyes and Law wished he had your power so that he could ease your pain.

***

Next Chapter

[walkingbomb]

DRAGON AGE TIMELINE:

This uses the Chantry calendar, which measures time in "Ages." Each age lasts one hundred years; the current age is the Dragon Age, the ninth since the founding of the Chantry, which marked the beginning of the Chantry calendar. Anything prior to 1:01 Divine is known as the Ancient Era and denoted using negative numbers, counted backwards: the year immediately preceding 1:01 Divine (the first year of the first named Age) is -1 Ancient, the year before that is -2 Ancient, and so on. The Chantry calendar doesn't have a year zero.

Many dates given in the Ancient Era are rough estimates taken from various DA sources, to be taken with a pinch of salt. Will likely be continually edited and updated.

This is a LONG post. You've been warned!

-7600 Ancient: Arlathan, fabled city of the elves, was founded. Elvhen cities existed before this, spread across Thedas and through the fade.

-4600 Ancient: Dwarves & Elves make first contact

-3100 Ancient: Arrival of humans to Thedas, settling in what would become known as Tevinter

-2800 Ancient: The Old Gods begin whispering to the humans, teaching them magic, faith in them becomes widespread

-1595 Ancient: Thalsian declares himself First Priest of Dumat, first blood mage and dreamer- he is given credit for further popularising worship of the Old Gods by establishing temples, and creating the mage ruling class of Tevinter.

-1200 Ancient: Humans and dwarves create first alliance between early Tevinter and Kal-Sharok

-1195 Ancient: Tevinter Imperium founded

-981 Ancient: Tevinter Imperium declares war on the elves, rallying their forces towards Arlathan

-975 Ancient: Tevinter Magisters supposedly used blood magic to sink Arlathan into the ground, ensuring their conquest of the elves. Surviving elves are enslaved.

-715 Ancient: Tevinter begins a campaign to subjugate Alamarri tribes in Ferelden

-620 Ancient: Tevinter establishes Emerius (now known as Kirkwall), across the sea from the Alamarri as a slave trade hub

-395 Ancient: A group of Tevinter magisters enter the Golden City. First Blight begins, led by Archdemon (and Old God) Dumat

-305 Ancient: The Grey Wardens are formed at Weisshaupt

-203 Ancient: Dumat is slain by Grey Wardens, first blight is conquered. Andraste is born.

-180 Ancient: Andraste declares war (the first Exalted March) against the Tevinter Imperium, unifying the barbarian tribes of the South

-171 Ancient: The Imperium's elven slaves, lead by Shartan, join Andraste's fight against Tevinter

-170 Ancient: Andraste dies- Maferath (Andraste's husband) betrays her, allowing her to be captured and put to death by the Tevinter Imperium

-165 Ancient: Maferath grants land (The Dales) to the elves that joined in the war against the Imperium. Those that make it in 'The Long Walk' from Tevinter, found the city of Halamshiral.

-160 Ancient: Hessarian (who had Andraste put to death by fire) converts to the Chant of Light and declares Tevinter an Andrastian nation

1:01 Divine Age: Justinia I made first Divine, Orelesian Chantry is officially established.

1:05 Divine: Second Blight begins, led by Archdemon Zazikel

1:95 Divine: Archdemon slain by Grey Wardens at Starkhaven, second blight ends.

2:10 Glory Age: Orlais declares war (the Exalted March of the Dales) on the elves after years of mounting tensions.

2:20 Glory: Orlais conquers Halamshiral in their Exalted March. Orlais claims the Dales and forbids the worship of elven gods, forcing elves to convert to the Maker and live in alienages within human cities. Those elves that refused and escaped became the nomadic Dalish elves.

3:10 Towers Age: Third Blight begins lead by Toth

3:25 Towers: Archdemon defeated by Grey Wardens at Hunter Fell, third Blight ends

3:87 Towers: Chantry Schism- After years of tension, Orelesian Chantry declares Tevinter as heretics as they refuse to amend the Chant of Light. Valhail I named first Imperial (Black) Divine of Tevinter

5:12 Exalted Age: Fourth Blight begins, lead by Archdemon Andoral

5:24 Exalted: Archdemon slain by Grey Wardens at Ayesleigh, fourth Blight ends

6:30 Steel Age: Qunari first arrive in Thedas in warships, landing in and conquering Par Vollen

6:32 Steel: Qunari ships land en masse in Seheron and northern Rivain, marking the beginning of the Qunari Wars. Seheron and a portions of the Imperium, Rivain and Antiva are conquered in the next 10 years, with efforts to begin attacks on the Free Marches too. Minrathous remains besieged but unconquered.

7:25 Storm Age: The New Exalted Marches are declared by both the Imperium and Orelesian Chantries to retake Seheron and Rivain from the Qunari- three Marches are declared over the next 60 years.

7:84 Storm: The third New Exalted March ends- envoys from all human lands (except Tevinter) and the Qunari meet to sign the Llomerryn Accord, hostilities cease and lands are redistributed. Tevinter refuses to sign, so hostilities between them and the Qunari persist.

8:24 Blessed Age: Orlais orders the Invasion of Ferelden, Denerim is conquered by 8:44 Blessed and Orlais occupies Ferelden until the Dragon Age.

9:00/2 Dragon Age: Ferelden is reclaimed by rebel forces lead by Prince Maric, Loghain Mac Tir and Rowan Guerrin

9:06/7 (?) Dragon: Hawke is born

9:30 Dragon: Fifth Blight begins, lead by Archdemon Urthemiel. The Battle of Ostagar (start of Origins) takes place. The Hawke family flees Lothering for Kirkwall after the battle is unsuccessful.

9:31 Dragon: Archdemon is slain at the Battle of Denerim by Grey Wardens, fifth Blight ends. Events of Awakening take place. Hawke finds the lyrium idol in a deep roads expedition to a pre-first Blight thaig.

9:32 Dragon: Events in Witch Hunt takes place- the Warden confronts Morrigan in front of the eluvian

9:34 Dragon: Hawke is declared Champion of Kirkwall by Knight-Commander Meredith Standard, for repelling a Qunari invasion

9:37 Dragon: Events of Legacy take place- Hawke inadvertently frees Corypheus from his prison. Anders destroys the Kirkwall chantry, sparking the Kirkwall rebellion, and further mage rebellions across Thedas. Hawke flees Kirkwall

9:40 Dragon: Orelesian civil war (AKA War of the Lions) breaks out. College of Enchanters votes to separate from the Chantry. Circles of Magi are dissolved. Solas awakens

9:41 Dragon: Conclave is called at the Temple of Sacred Ashes to bring an end to the Mage-Templar war, disrupted by Corypheus, resulting in the creation of the Breach and the death of the leaders at the conclave, including Divine Justinia (start of Inquisition). The Inquisitor/Herald of Andraste leads the newly reformed Inquisition against Corypheus to seal the Breach. Inquisitor resolves Orelesian civil war.

9:42 Dragon: Events of Jaws of Hakkon and The Descent take place. Inquisitor discovers a living Titan. The Inquisition defeats Corypheus at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and seals the Breach. Divine Victoria is elected.

9:44 Dragon: Events of Trespasser take place- Inquisitor attends the Exalted Council to decide the Inquisition's fate. A Qunari plot to destroy southern Thedas' nobility during the council meeting is foiled by the Inquisition and agents of Fen'harel. The anchor, along with the Inquisitor's left forearm is removed by Solas, who disappears through an eluvian. The Inquisition is disbanded.

9:52 Dragon: The events of Veilguard begin...

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Henryk Siemiradzki (Polish, 1843-1902) The girl or the vase?, 1887

The Black Sea Slave Trade gave rise to the figure of the Odalisque, that is the beautiful, white slave girl, a figure of quintessential beauty. Learn more; “Why White People are Called Caucasian.” - Professor Nell Painter of Princeton University

[fromtheseventhhell]

"The best calumnies are spiced with truth," suggested Qavo, "but the girl's true sin cannot be denied. This arrogant child has taken it upon herself to smash the slave trade, but that traffic was never confined to Slaver's Bay. It was part of the sea of trade that spanned the world, and the dragon queen has clouded the water. Behind the Black Wall, lords of ancient blood sleep poorly, listening as their kitchen slaves sharpen their long knives. Slaves grow our food, clean our streets, teach our young. They guard our walls, row our galleys, fight our battles. And now when they look east, they see this young queen shining from afar, this breaker of chains. The Old Blood cannot suffer that. Poor men hate her too. Even the vilest beggar stands higher than a slave. This dragon queen would rob him of that consolation." (Tyrion VI, ADWD) Should you reach your queen, give her a message from the slaves of Old Volantis." She touched the faded scar upon her wrinkled cheek, where her tears had been cut away. "Tell her we are waiting. Tell her to come soon." (Tyrion VII, ADWD)

I appreciate how George explicitly makes the point that slavery isn't just about the economic aspect and that it is, at its root, built on subjugation. Even the people who don't directly benefit from it will fight to keep the system in place just so they have someone beneath them. That's why all the criticisms of Dany not replacing the economy before abolishing slavery fall flat, because that wouldn't have worked either. The slavers would've fought to enforce slavery regardless because they enjoyed the power and privilege it granted them. We also get insight onto the slaves thoughts on Dany's revolution, which makes it feel like this perspective is only coming from the consideration of the slavers and not the people actually being subjugated. The slaves want to be free, they want Dany to free them, and that shouldn't have to wait until the people who think of them as property decide it's acceptable.

[gibbetedshanties]

Let's not forget I am the Black Sails girly first, so ACTUALLY my favorite part is when fandom allows people to pull out their "Here's the history of the colonial slave trade in India" and "Happy to share my academic essay on pederasty and art in 16th century Venice" cards. Smooch. 

P.S. Metaphor analysis of sea battle paintings in the background of the Black Sails screenshots... I miss you every day.

[dramioneasks]

Hy! I'm searching for ff that has a deatheater D who would burn the world for keeping H protected.

I just finished manacled and cruel and Beautiful World so kinda feels inspired.

I would also love a possessive/jealous D and please HEA🥹

Thank you for your amazing job!

Dragon’s Heartstrings by pinkinku - E, 34 chapters - High Reeve Draco Malfoy is not only Voldemort’s most trusted Death Eater but an undercover agent for the Order, plotting Voldemort’s downfall from the inside out as well. After a fair trade with the Order, the High Reeve asks for the highest sacrifice – to make the brightest witch of her age Hermione Granger his wife.

Secrets and Masks - Emerald_Slytherin - E, 75 chapters, Words: 465,554 - 9 years after the battle of Hogwarts, the war still rages on and everyone is much changed since their days at Hogwarts. Hermione is the most lethal soldier in The Order, spending her days on rescue missions to free captured Muggleborn slaves and fight on the front line. For years, she’s been meeting in secret with a spy within Voldemort’s ranks to exchange information. But, when she’s captured and made prisoner at Malfoy Manor,  of all the dark and evil ways she’d envisioned Malfoy would torture her, she never quite imagined anything this horrific. (I just wanted to make it abundantly clear that I was originally inspired to write this fic after I read the masterpiece that is Manacled, so I would like to thank SenLinYu for her amazing work! The memory searching aspect of  Manacled is what inspired me, and although I have adapted that, (and also made Draco head Death Eater, because… ya know… we all love it when he’s Voldemort’s right hand man 😅😉), Secrets and Masks will be a very very different fic all together.)

Desperate Measures By: cleotheo - M, 37 Chapters - When the war against Voldemort drags on, what lengths will Hermione go to, to be with the man she loves? DM/HG.

We Learned the Sea By: floorcoaster - T, 37 chapters - Draco Malfoy turns himself in after a very successful career as a Death Eater, then enlists Harry and Hermione to help him in a scheme to bring down the Dark Lord. DHr. A story of forgiveness.

Dreams and other Deceptions - cancerravenclaw - E, 45 chapters, Words: 268,520 - “That’s all I have left of him - dreams and other deceptions. All we were is all we’ll ever be.” Hermione Granger can’t remember the last time she dreamt —sleep came as a black abyss, an empty space between waking moments… not unlike her memory. There are so many months missing from the last two years of her life. She had made peace with those blank spaces, told they were the result of the trauma and torture from the war. So, when she wakes up from something that feels more memory than dream, something her mind would have never concocted on its own, she dives headfirst into the mystery of sixth year. Determined to illuminate the black spots in her timeline she can’t recall, Hermione finds herself caught up in nightmares from years past that are more than they appear. The more she remembers, the more she discovers that at the center of all her forgotten memories is Draco Malfoy – war criminal pending trial for his crimes as a Death Eater. Will navigating her past bring her closure or more unrest?

Shattered Trust [1 (Betrayal), 2 (Separation), 3 (Reunited), 4 (Victory)]  By: cleotheo - M - A mindless threat from Voldemort during a fight with Harry leads the Order down a dark path which will shatter lives, ruin friendships and tear families apart. Among those most affected by their rash actions are Harry’s best friend, Hermione Granger and her secret boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. Part one of a four part story.

-Lisa

[clove-pinks]

A serendipitous find: the Autumn 2020 issue of Sea History, publication of the National Maritime Historical Society of New York, with the article "Freedom and Whaling on Nantucket" by Skip Finley. It's all about Black and mixed race mariners, whalers, and shipowners on the island.

Sampson Dyer, early 19th century. A free man of Black and Wampanoag descent, he engaged in the China Trade and commissioned this portrait from the Chinese artist Spoilum, "who specialized in European-style paintings in oil of sea captains and both Chinese and Western merchants."

Captain Absalom F. Boston, by unknown artist c. 1835. A successful whaling captain and businessman, he also supported anti-slavery abolitionists and helped build a church and a school.

Arthur Cooper, portrait by Sally Gardner c. 1830. Cooper had been enslaved in Virginia and escaped to Nantucket between 1815 and 1818. When the Fugitive Slave Act threatened to send Cooper and his wife back to Virginia in 1822, the locals successfully drove away the slave catcher sent to retrieve him. In Skip Finley's words:

Francis Macy, a cousin of the prominent Rotch family, intervened along with “a large assemblage of persons,” including large numbers of both the black and white communities on the island, who had surrounded the house. Sylvanus Macy stepped up to suggest the power of attorney was a forgery and said, “We are not in Virginia now but in Yankee Town, and we want those colored people to man our whale ships and will not suffer them to be carried back to bondage.”

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Victarion I

My little airhead! ❤️

The Noble Lady was a tub of a ship, as fat and wallowing as the noble ladies of the green lands. Her holds were huge, and Victarion packed them with armed men. With her would sail the other, lesser prizes that the Iron Fleet had taken on its long voyage to Slaver's Bay, a lubberly assortment of cogs, great cogs, carracks, and trading galleys salted here and there with fishing boats. It was a fleet both fat and feeble, promising much in the way of wool and wines and other trade goods and little in the way of danger. Victarion gave the command of it to Wulf One-Ear. "The slavers may shiver when they spy your sails rising from the sea," he told him. "but once they see you plain they will laugh at their fears. Traders and fishers, that's all you are. Any man can see that. Let them get close as they like, but keep your men hidden belowdecks until you are ready. Then close, and board them.

Explain to me how somebody can be stupid when they're so clever in battle. Impossible!

Compare this to Barry's strategy: leaving the protection of the walls and running at them.

Barristan: 0

Vicky: 1

+.+.+

Free the slaves and feed the slavers to the sea, but take the ships. We will have need of every hull to carry us back home.

Victarion wants all the slaves freed, whereas Barry told his men spare them if you can. That's not good enough.

Barristan: 0

Vicky: 2

+.+.+

The warship and the cog parted ways. In the distance the rest of Victarion's famed fleet was raising sail. A ragged cheer went up from the crew of the Iron Victory, and was answered in kind by the men of the Noble Lady.

Nobody cheered for Barry.

Barristan: 0

Vicky: 3

+.+.+

Victarion had given Wulf his best fighters. He envied them. They would be the first to strike a blow, the first to see that look of fear in the foemen's eyes. 

Of course he did! A selfless king.

Meanwhile, Barry's monopolizing all the pit fighters, while simultaneously looking down on them.

Barristan: 0

Vicky: 4

It's a blowout.

+.+.+

All that was done and gone now, though. Victarion would have his due at last. I have the horn, and soon I will have the woman. A woman lovelier than the wife he made me kill.

I'm going to guess Victarion Greyjoy has narrow ideals when it comes to physical attractiveness.

Daenerys is currently emaciated, with minimal hair. I won't endorse whatever thoughts may cross his mind when he eventually sees her, but I can't promise I won't laugh.

+.+.+

Three of them, and strong ones. "Send them to my cabin. I'll want the priest as well." The oarsmen were all big. One was a boy, one a brute, one a bastard's bastard. The Boy had been rowing for less than a year, the Brute for twenty. They had names, but Victarion did not know them. One had come from Lamentation, one from Sparrow Hawk, one from Spider Kiss. He could not be expected to know the names of every thrall who had ever pulled an oar in the Iron Fleet.

Agreed! Ridiculous expectation. If they wanted to be known they should have considered being named Ralf.

+.+.+

Moqorro brought it forth, and the dusky woman lifted up a lantern to give them all a look. In the shifting lantern light the hell-horn seemed to writhe and turn in the priest’s hands like a serpent fighting to escape. 

See how quickly Vicky has Moqorro and the enslaved woman of colour cooperating?

Daenerys needs Vicky, like Jon needs Sansa.

+.+.+

"My brother found this thing on Valyria," Victarion told the thralls. "Think how big the dragon must've been to bear two of these upon his head. Bigger than Vhagar or Meraxes, bigger than Balerion the Black Dread." He took the horn from Moqorro and ran his palm along its curves. "At the Kingsmoot on Old Wyk one of Euron's mutes blew upon this horn. Some of you will remember. It was not a sound that any man who heard it will ever forget." "They say he died," the Boy said, "him who blew the horn." "Aye. The horn was smoking after. The mute had blisters on his lips, and the bird inked across his chest was bleeding. He died the next day. When they cut him open his lungs were black."

We have every reason to question whether Euron actually found this horn in Valyria.

A smile played across Euron's blue lips. "I am the storm, my lord. The first storm, and the last. I have taken the Silence on longer voyages than this, and ones far more hazardous. Have you forgotten? I have sailed the Smoking Sea and seen Valyria."

[...]

"Have you?" the Reader asked, so softly.

Euron's blue smile vanished. "Reader," he said into the quiet, "you would do well to keep your nose in your books." - The Reaver, AFFC

What I didn't notice until now is the striking similarities between the mute's death and when Melisandre killed that eagle.

The sound was shocking, ear-piercing, thick with agony. Varamyr fell, writhing, and the 'cat was screaming too . . . and high, high in the eastern sky, against the wall of cloud, Jon saw the eagle burning. For a heartbeat it flamed brighter than a star, wreathed in red and gold and orange, its wings beating wildly at the air as if it could fly from the pain. Higher it flew, and higher, and higher still. - Jon X, ASOS

x

His last death had been by fire. I burned. At first, in his confusion, he thought some archer on the Wall had pierced him with a flaming arrow… but the fire had been inside him, consuming him. And the pain… - Prologue, ADWD

vs.

All eyes turned toward the sound. It was one of Euron's mongrels winding the call, a monstrous man with a shaved head. Rings of gold and jade and jet glistened on his arms, and on his broad chest was tattooed some bird of prey, talons dripping blood.

[...]

It was a terrible sound, a wail of pain and fury that seemed to burn the ears. Aeron Damphair covered his, and prayed for the Drowned God to raise a mighty wave and smash the horn to silence, yet still the shriek went on and on. It is the horn of hell, he wanted to scream, though no man would have heard him. The cheeks of the tattooed man were so puffed out they looked about to burst, and the muscles in his chest twitched in a way that it made it seem as if the bird were about to rip free of his flesh and take wing. And now the glyphs were burning brightly, every line and letter shimmering with white fire. - The Drowned Man, AFFC

I don't know what this means.

Does the horn have something to do with R'hllor?

The sound it made … it burned, somehow. As if my bones were on fire, searing my flesh from within. - Victarion I, ADWD

x

"Here it says, 'No mortal man shall sound me and live.'" - Victarion I, ADWD

Looking back, this feels like R'hllor nonsense.

+.+.+

He brushed his hand across one of the red gold bands and the ancient glyph seemed to sing beneath his fingertips. For half a heartbeat he wanted nothing so much as to sound the horn himself.

Am I crazy, or does that read like the horn has a hypnotic grip on him?

+.+.+

Euron was a fool to give me this, it is a precious thing, and powerful. With this I'll win the Seastone Chair, and then the Iron Throne. With this I'll win the world.

Euron is a lot of things, but he's no fool.

He's never giving up the horn if it's in any way useful.

+.+.+

"Claggorn blew the horn thrice and died for it. He was as big as any of you, and strong as me. So strong that he could twist a man's head right off his shoulders with only his bare hands, and yet the horn killed him."

"Cragorn's died, you know."

"Who?"

"The man who blew my dragon horn. When the maester cut him open, his lungs were charred as black as soot." - The Reaver, AFFC

+.+.+

"It will kill us too, then," said the Boy. Victarion did not oft forgive a thrall for talking out of turn, but the Boy was young, no more than twenty, and soon to die besides. He let it pass.

Lol.

One day you will all come to realize Victarion is as entertaining as Cersei, and then you'll all owe me an apology.

+.+.+

"The mute sounded the horn three times. You three will sound it only once. Might be you'll die, might be you won't. All men die. The Iron Fleet is sailing into battle. Many on this very ship will be dead before the sun goes down – stabbed or slashed, gutted, drowned, burned alive – only the Gods know which of us will still be here come the morrow. Sound the horn and live and I'll make free men of you, one or two or all three. I'll give you wives, a bit of land, a ship to sail, thralls of your own. Men will know your names."

Does it actually need to be sounded three times? Is that written anywhere? Are we only doing that because Claggorn did?

+.+.+

"You will sail with me on Iron Victory," he told them, "but you will not join the battle. Boy, you're the youngest – you'll sound the horn first. When the time comes you will blow it long and loud. They say you are strong. Blow the horn until you are too weak to stand, until the last bit of breath has been squeezed from you, until your lungs are burning. Let the freedmen hear you in Meereen, the slavers in Yunkai, the ghosts in Astapor. Let the monkeys shit themselves at the sound when it rolls across the Isle of Cedars. Then pass the horn along to the next man. Do you hear me? Do you know what to do?"

As discussed in the previous chapter, without even factoring in how the dragons (or Victarion?) might react to it, there's a possibility this horn creates a lot of confusion and chaos.

"Listen for my horn," Ser Barristan told them. "If you hear the retreat, fall back. Our walls stand behind us, packed with Brazen Beasts. Our foes dare not come too close, or they will find themselves in crossbow range. If you hear the horn sound advance, advance at once. Make for my standard or the queen's." - Barristan I, TWOW

+.+.+

They left him one by one. The three thralls, and then Moqorro. Victarion would not let him take the hell-horn. "I will keep it here with me, until it is needed." "As you command. Would you have me bleed you?"

Looks like Vicky has gone ahead with horn blood magic.

"Your brother did not sound the horn himself. Nor must you." Moqorro pointed to the band of steel. "Here. 'Blood for fire, fire for blood.' Who blows the hellhorn matters not. The dragons will come to the horn's master. You must claim the horn. With blood." - Victarion I, ADWD

Do you see how he won't let Moqorro have the horn? Something weird is going on, I can feel it.

If he can bleed, does that confirm he's not dead/reanimated?

+.+.+

Victarion seized the dusky woman by the wrist and pulled her to him. "She will do it. Go pray to your red god. Light your fire, and tell me what you see." Moqorro's dark eyes seemed to shine. "I see dragons."

I see dead people.

Final thoughts:

That's not the end of the chapter.

(my phrasing) Thanks for clarifying, lol.

"My horn...dragons..." is giving this:

I fear my Vicky has done something terribly stupid.

It's okay, he'll be fine. Trust the process. Everything is going according to plan. Falling into molten rock with a ring, falling into the ocean with your brother ... same thing.

Next chapter: Tyrion I (summary #1, summary #2)

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[mithrilandvilya]

12th – language/culture/beauty 

Beauty in Harad 

She was Hastalteth, healer.  It was a title, assigned to a slave whose duty was to scour the battlefield for the fallen but not-yet-dead, and make them fit for further duty.  Aside from this, she had no name that she could remember, and recalled no life other than as Hastalteth. 

She was claimed by Qol Kai Chek, a large beast of the men of Harad.  Technically, he was Khandish, but his trade was war, and Harad had been his place for most of his career.  A fearless and commanding general, he led his troops with brutal efficiency and cunning, crafting his path to higher stations with ruthless ambition.   

This particular hastalteth was uniquely gifted at her craft, and this had become well-known amongst all the Southland battalions.  In a sea of clashing bodies bent on destruction, those who recognized her stepped aside and wielded their axes and maces in other directions, for the chance that should they fall, she would make them rise again. 

Nevertheless, her body was tainted with myriad scars and bruises, with  unnatural slight bends and bumpsi n bones here and there from ill-healed breaks.  There was no life without pain in Harad, especially for a slave.  There were no healers for the hastalteths, forbidden to aid one another and left to the help of only what they could do for themselves.   

She helped herself little, because when she saw a fallen soul on the hot, blood-stained dirt at her feet, she gave no heed to who he was or who he served.  All broken souls called to her equally, and it pained her more to hear the cries in her head and heart and do nothing than it did to face the lashes, violations, and beatings of her master for aiding an enemy. At the end of a battle, her exhausted body would be carried off to his tent by some servant or other, and she would face his wrath.  There was no expression of gratitude for saving his strongest, fastest, or best archer – another day of life was all she could expect in exchange for a successful rescue.  Although he would never speak it, despite her willful disobedience at every battle, her unparalleled healing ability made her too valuable to dispatch.  Because she was his, his reputation was all the better; she served his ambitions. 

Thus she lived on a narrow precipice of survival, mourning little for her own fate.  The lowness of her station was drilled into her self-perception, inextricable. She could not imagine a world where she was treated differently or deserved a different kind of life – the very language of Harad which gave her no name ensured it. 

At least, that was almost so.  The Southlands were bleak and razed, baked by hot sun, repeatedly coated in suffocating black ash, and strewn with anger and death.  But her eyes and soul were drawn to the rare flashes of beauty that persisted, and she could almost envision the power of the beauty encompassing all, scouring clean the filth of evil, freeing minds and hearts. 

Her mind’s eye held onto the memory of a loyal friend carrying his comrade to her through the greatest peril.  She had seen the friends later, arm in arm, laughing away pain and darkness for one more day.   

She had seen rare, dainty white sand-lilies springing from cracks in the dried, hard earth, and intrepid bees packing their legs with pollen steadily with no mind to the bloodshed all around them.   

She watched magnificent sunrises and sunsets, and moonrises and moonsets, enhanced by the persistent smoke over Harad. 

She had once gone as far north as the southern edge of the Dead Marshes, witnessing the ghastly fallen spirits in its murky waters, while over them a family of beavers busily built their lodge, old swords, bows and staffs picked out of the choked bottom made part of its construction, so that the lodge was an entrancing work of art. 

She routinely noted bird nests tucked into layered cliffs, parents feeding their young amid soft, sharp chirps of excitement exuding from the nestlings. 

And she had twice knelt over and healed exquisite forms of the most beautiful elves, deemed merely mythical creatures this far south, and saw their shining eyes delight as the Halls of Mandos slammed shut before their spirits entered.  These had laid their hands on her in otherwise unknown gentleness and gratitude, inviting her to go with them, which she had refused because she desired not to make them a focus of her master’s worst intentions.  But ever since, she dreamed of them and the beauty that must fill the lands of such stunningly elegant people. 

She held on to these flashes of beauty, secreting them away in her mind, using them to keep from breaking entirely. Qol Kai Chek had complete control over her body, but he never knew what was in her mind.  That was hers and hers alone.  She had trained herself so that when he bore down on her with whips, chains, straps, and fists to leave her body and instead be with the bees, beavers or birds, or even with the elves.  He would grow frustrated that his punishments never changed her behavior, but when he ran out of breath at his exertions against her, he knew nothing else to do short of killing her, which he did not want.  He was clever enough to spin all in his favor in the eyes of charges and superiors, so it mattered not.  

Hastalteth steadfastly healed hundreds or maybe even thousands before Qol Kai Chek finally fell.  In the chaotic aftermath of his ultimate defeat, his remaining soldiers scattered confusedly in all directions, all thinking only of themselves, and none thinking of her.  She trudged wearily amongst the fallen, seeking any near enough to life to revive, until she happened upon the corpse of the general, not knowing he had fallen until then. She heard a far-off call from his soul to hers, pleading for life, but when she went to touch him, she felt his spirit violently jerked back away from her, and there was no more of him in this world.   

She stood, turned, and looked all around her and found herself utterly alone in the desolation. Above her, the sky was fiery red at the brink of night, and a single dark form cut across it from South to North.  A great eagle slowly soared, coming low as it passed over her, and she could see the beautiful fine detail of its powerful yet graceful feathers. It uttered a sharp, plaintive peal, seemingly calling her to follow.  

Hastalteth was apparently no more, but what she now was, she didn’t know.  The eagle was already far ahead of her and disappearing beyond a ridge as she set out after it. Her path was slow and treacherous over rocky, broken, and battle-shredded terrain, but by dawn, as she pulled herself up the final ledge of a cliff, she saw a trail of daisies before her, heading down into a very narrow green valley surrounded by bare black and red mesas in all directions.  The green winding canyon bottom was strikingly solitary and the only way forward.  Her eyes followed it as far as possible, and where it disappeared at a bend miles in the distance, she believed she could see a stand of lush trees, something she had never before seen but instantly recognized. 

There was a word for these trees, rarely used because they were rarely seen, nearly archaic in the Haradrim tongue. Santi, it was.  As she thrilled at the possibilities before her, she carefully made her way toward the stand of Santis, though it would take her nearly the full day to get to them. Looking on them as she drew near, and felt transformed by the sudden change in her fate.  She felt inspired to give herself a name.   

“Santi I now am,” she said out loud to herself, “and I will follow the path of beauty before me to see where it leads.”   

That night she laid under the boughs of her namesakes and dreamed of elves in splendid lands somewhere in the north and west, for the first time thinking perhaps she would actually see them someday.  The gently swaying Santis saw her beneath them, and having heard her say her name, reckoned her as one of them, and kept her safe in their embrace through the long night.  They sent out whispers through the earth and on the winds to all the places they knew, telling about her, and thus enchanted her journey. Creatures small and large welcomed and protected her wherever she went for the next several months.  Whenever she felt uncertain which way to turn, some creature would inevitably appear on her path, leading her around obstacles gradually north, and now and then west.  The enchantment continued until she first stepped into the realm of elves, where it ceased, no longer needed. 

Santi had no idea she had made it to the lands she dreamed of seeing, but she knew she was surrounded by overwhelming beauty.  Perhaps those from these lands took it for granted, but she herself was continually surprised and amazed at all she saw.  She sat down to rest, but fought against closing her eyes for more than a few moments, slightly fearful that when she re-opened them she would find this all a fantasy and awake with the brutish form of the general hovering over her, freshly laid welts and bruises marring her body, as she cowered in the corner of the tent of her master.  Eventually her eyes did close, and she slept without knowing. 

Night fell, starless due to low, wet clouds, when a soft touch on her shoulder stirred her and she was greeted by a voice she had heard once before.   

“Santi, I am relieved that you have found and followed the path we laid for you to come to us.  You are welcome here as long as you wish to remain.” 

Before she could ask, the elf continued, “We know your name from the trees, for we hear their voices as well as yours.  Come now to the halls of healing where you may rest and eventually work if you so desire.” 

Only then did she understand the solitary green line pointing her north, through the Santis to here, had been laid for her by the elves.  The two she met had both invited her to go with them, but had not forced her when she refused.  However, they did not forget the beautiful heart of the Haradrima healer that had tended them, and with a gentle touch at their departure had inserted themselves into her dreams to comfort her while they prepared her way out of the lands of darkness.  

Never before had Santi felt loved.  But once she knew it, she recognized love as the source of all beauty.  She understood that what Harad suffered was from its lack, and she pitied those she had left behind. 

 After a long respite with the elves, she followed the now-decaying green line back to her homeland.  As she passed the Santis, she thanked them for their name and protection but set them both aside and again became Hastalteth.  She spent the rest of her life healing as many as she could with loving care, with no master other than her own heart.   

On a particularly bleak, smoke-filled winter day less than a half-decade after her respite, two elves collected her shattered body from beneath a sullen rocky precipice deep inside the realm of Harad and carried her away to lay her to rest under the Santi trees, who again embraced her as their own.   

Those who saw her die mourned for themselves over it, but continued on their way to another battle they would soon face. However, among those she had healed were a few who were touched by her compassion and inspired to carry some of it themselves.   Nameless, she was before long forgotten in Harad except by the Santis, the only evidence of her life a small light in the hearts of some she healed and a few more that they themselves touched with compassion.  It went on and did not extinguish, helping to keep the full domination of darkness ever so slightly at bay.