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humanpurposes · 7 months

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It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, mentions of violence and trauma

Words: 7.4k

A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity.

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at a laptop screen as they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planning this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to the rest of Westeros that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. So there can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

Aemond’s eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan for the main ballroom.

Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind the space where his eye should be.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?”

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease. He has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it. A glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in my office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and get you some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move.

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache.

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face, the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again?

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

“I thought you knew,” Aegon says. “Mum said she was going to talk to you.”

“Evidently that conversation is yet to happen.” Maybe it was meant to happen tonight. It’s a Friday which means Aemond will go to his mother’s apartments in the Keep for dinner after work.

It’s a struggle but he breathes through the worst of it, and blinks a tear from his eye. The pain hasn’t quite faded but something else burns hotter through his blood. He clenches his jaw and his fists. “How long have you known?”

Aegon makes a startled stuttering noise. “I– well–”

Aemond glares at him.

“A few days. The note came from Rhaenyra’s office on Monday or Tuesday, I can’t really remember–”

“Grandfather knew,” Aemond says, a question, but he can guess the answer. If it involves Dragon Bank or a member of the Targaryen family, Otto Hightower will know.

“Of course he knew. He said it was a last minute decision, one that Viserys was insisting we all bend over backwards to accommodate.”

Of course he would, anything for the precious daughter of his favourite child, the girl who slashed Aemond’s eye out with a broken bottle.

He hates her for it. He hates every burst of pain, like an echo of that moment pulsing through his head. He hates every person he catches staring at him, he hates the way his reflection looks with her cruelty carved into his flesh. Most of all he hates that it reminds him of her. In a way he is grateful too. Time helped to heal the wound and eventually he realised how he had been changed by that night, how it made him the person he is now.

But for the first time in a long time he does not find any pride in it, cowering in his brother’s office like a child at the mere mention of her name.

“I can’t go,” Aemond says, hating how quiet his own voice is.

“That’s alright,” Aegon says, “you can sit here for as long as you need.”

“I meant the party.”

“Oh right, sorry.”

“I can’t go, not if she’s going to be there.”

There’s a long silence, filled only by the hum of the AC and the distant sounds of the city far below the keep, car horns, engines, sirens, the occasional cry of a seagull.

“Why don’t you talk it through with mum?”

“Aegon,”

“She’ll want you to go. She’ll be upset if you don’t.”

“I can’t,”

“I know you two were close, but, you know, I’m sure you both regret how things happened,”

“Aegon, for fuck’s sake,”

“She cut out your eye, you said you’d cut out hers if you ever saw her again, we were all caught up in the moment.”

Aemond pushes up from the sofa and tosses the water bottle at Aegon’s head, not stopping to see if he caught it or not, before he’s yanking open the door and marching into the hallway.

The Red Keep is older than Dragon Bank itself, a red brick holdfast that has loomed proudly over King’s Landing for centuries, even as the skyline of the city has come to meet over time. It’s easy to get lost here, with its grand hallways, winding staircases and hidden passages, if old rumours are to be believed. He knows this place like he knows his own mind. He walks to his office through empty stairwells and forgotten corridors.

When he finally makes it to his own office he closes the door and lets his back fall against it.

He takes a slow breath, holds it, pouts his lips and exhales steadily.

Who else knows? Viserys would have sent the invitation, Rhaenyra and the rest of her little runts will know. Otto knows, clearly his mother and Aegon both know, and he couldn’t have kept that secret, he would have told Helaena or Daeron, most likely both.

Everyone knows. Jaya is coming back home to King’s Landing, and everyone knows but him.

His mother told him everything when she thought he was ready to hear it. The bandages had been removed from his face and the cannula had been taken out of his hand. The doctors wanted him to stay in the hospital for a few more days so all the drugs could wear off and he could start getting used to the disorientation of losing half his vision. Alicent wanted him home, in his own bed. So he left the dry air and the white overhead lights of his room in the hospital, back to Dragonstone.

She told him that while he’d been on his knees with his hand over his face, trying to stop the blood and the remains of his eye from spilling onto the ground, Viserys had barked out his orders. He didn’t want ambulances or sirens because it would cause a scene in front of the guests. The shame, the damage it would do to the family’s image. Otto had persuaded him away from such a nonsensical idea and convinced Viserys to get the guests inside the house so Aemond and Jace’s injuries could be seen to.

He remembered shouting and sirens, blue lights and his mother’s hand clinging onto his before he blacked out. He had gone in for surgery almost immediately and woken the following evening surrounded by white walls, his mother and Criston Cole at his side.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron all stayed at Dragonstone while he was there. They said once he and Jace had been taken away, Viserys had gathered the entire family inside the house. With their faces all still red from crying and Jaya’s pretty white dress still coated in blood, he demanded to know the truth.

They all knew what the truth was. Jace didn’t know his limits and Aegon didn’t care about his.

He could see it all happening in his head, walking towards the orchard with Jaya and Baela, catching Jaya when she tripped over a stone, her tipsy smile as she looked up at him, the pearl and the sapphire pendant settled against her chest.

Who knows what started the argument between Jace and Aegon, but suddenly Aemond had found himself between them.

“There he is,” Jace had sneered, but his voice quickly raised into a shout, “‘perfect’ Aemond Targaryen, fucking mummy’s boy, thinking he’s some kind of fucking diplomat!”

Aegon tried to shout back, “more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Aemond couldn’t make out everything through the way his voice slurred.

“Not so fucking perfect though, are you? You’re no worse than Aegon– no! You’re so much worse, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?

He’d watched Jace’s expression darken, his lips sneering into a sickening smile.

“You’ve got my sister wrapped around your fucking finger, fucking creep.”

He told himself Jace was just drunk. It didn’t matter what he thought… only it did. Jace could tell Rhaenyra or Viserys. Worse, he could talk to Jaya. She had always been devoted to her twin. She had picked Jace over Aemond before, in petty arguments when they were children.

“You want her, don’t you? Don’t you!? She’s too good for you though, and you know it. You want her but you’ll never fucking have her!”

When Aemond’s fist collided with Jace’s jaw it was on pure instinct. He was sober enough to stop himself but he didn’t. He just kept going.

According to Aegon, when Viserys came to Jaya, she said that it was Aemond who had started the argument. Jace was in the orchard with the others, when Aemond had come from nowhere and threw the first punch. She had seen it, so had Baela, so had Luke and Joffrey. It was their word against Aegon and Daeron’s.

The official story was that it had been a tragic accident, one in which Rhaenyra’s children were certainly blameless.

She called him the night he got to Dragonstone but he let the phone ring. A week later she appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. She was hazy, or he was still delirious from sleep, his mother hovering over her shoulder, reluctant to leave them alone together.

He doesn’t remember most of the conversation now. He doesn’t want to remember it. He knows it ended with tears streaming down her cheeks, but her face was completely still. She didn’t flinch, didn’t distort her face, scrunch her nose or make an ugly shape with her mouth. She looked utterly beautiful and cried effortlessly. It wasn’t fair when he still had stitches sewn into his flesh to keep the left half of his face in place.

At one point she approached the bed and tried to touch his hand. He snatched it out of her grasp. When she tried again he pushed her away.

“Why did you do it?” she said. “You attacked Jace, why? Why? Why? Why?”

Because Jace could have taken away the one thing he thought was his, by right, by love. Instead he gave some bullshit excuse– Jace had threatened Aegon, insulted Daeron, insulted him. And what did it matter anyway? Viserys believed her.

He needed her. He needed her and she pushed him away and cradled her coward of a brother in her arms. He needed her and she’d thrown it all back in his face with a slash of a broken bottle. He needed her, but she had made her decision.

“Liar,” he hissed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

He saw it in her face then, her desire to fight melting away. To Aemond that had always meant that she knew he was right.

“Show up here again, utter so much as a word to me again, and I’ll tear yours out as payment for mine.”

Some weeks later Aegon mentioned that she had abandoned her plans to go to KLU and instead found a place at the University of Pentos. She never tried to call after that and neither did he.

A layer of sweat clings to his skin and makes him shiver. He shrugs it off as he sits down at his desk, and spots a handwritten note sitting beside the keyboard of his laptop. Investment figures for Seasnake Shipping back to me by 7pm at the latest. Knowing Otto Hightower, that means an hour before the specified time.

In for three, hold for three, out for three. It always amazes him how well that trick works, he thinks as he takes out a packet from the top drawer of his desk and pushes out two tablets, the one good thing he’d gotten out of his year of therapy. He swallows the medication dry, suddenly regretting throwing away the bottle of water.

It’s nearly 6pm when Aemond has everything his grandfather wants, the names of Seasnake’s investors, the other companies they’re attached to, numbers and details he’s found buried in endless spreadsheets and pages of paperwork. He shouldn’t be able to see most of them but he has his ways. The Velaryons have been in business with the Targaryens for centuries and there are always trails to follow.

A few familiar names appear, Rhaenyra Tagrayren, Daemon Targayren, married to each of Corlys’ children. Aemond was only a year old when his sister married Laenor, but he’s always known how sceptical his mother and grandfather were of the match. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra had to do. She wasn’t going to inherit Seasnake, that had been promised to Laena, the elder sibling, and she was already Viserys’ chosen heir, so what did she think she was going to get out of it? Not a loving husband, surely.

Other investors and partners include the names Stark and Arryn, both wealthy and well established families. He also sees the names Celtigar, Massey, Bar Emmon, old names, though not as respected as they once were.

He leaves a note for his grandfather at the top of the document: Seasnake is being directed by a man who built his wealth to match his own pride, supported by opportunists with more money than sense.

With that task done he opens a new email to inform his father’s office that he’ll be absent from the event. He types it quickly and reads over it once before he can talk himself out of pressing send. He doesn’t give a reason why; Viserys should know why.

This leaves him just enough time to pack up and get ready for dinner.

The Red Keep has a series of apartments separated from the offices, where Aemond spent most of his childhood. The building is known as the Holdfast, with its own gatehouse leading into the city and gardens surrounded by high red brick walls. Historically it was built to house the extensive members of House Targaryen, but it is mostly empty now. His mother has had her own apartment for a few years, since Daeron moved out. The only one of his siblings to still live here now is Aegon, at Alicent’s insistence.

Walking from his office to the Holdfast brings him through courtyards and underneath old battlements, until he comes to a facade with towers, tall windows and an unsuspecting wooden door, save for the armed guards standing either side of it. His mother’s apartments are on the first floor, along a gallery and up the grand staircase, past portraits and tapestries. The hallways get smaller the further in you go and soon he comes to the private rooms.

Alicent often dismisses the staff on quiet Friday evenings. The minute he’s in the door he is met with the sound of one of her 80s playlists, the scent of spices and her favourite lemon and lavender candles. He finds her in the kitchen, dark blue jeans, a white shirt, black pumps and her auburn curls pulled into a bun to show off her pearl earrings, stirring two pots on the stove.

“Criston’s got me learning another one of his recipes,” she says, only looking at him for a moment, “I’ve got rice on too, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Aemond approaches her to kiss her on the cheek and takes a look inside the pots, one filled with chickpeas, the other with black lentils. “Is Aegon here?” he says.

“He’s in the lounge, tell him to set the table.”

Aemond watches her, entirely absorbed in the notebook on the counter next to the stove, with handwritten instructions. Nothing seems to be especially bothering her, even though the centenary event has had her on edge for over a month. She looks no different from the last time he saw her, before he knew about Jaya, when she was supposed to talk to him, supposedly.

“I want a drink first,” he says, whisky with no ice. He pours it for himself slowly while his mother hums along to Tears for Fears. “Do you know why grandfather wanted that information on Seasnake’s investors?”

“Hmm? Oh he’s probably doing one of his checks, you know what he’s like. Good to keep an eye on everyone,” she says. She has a glass of red wine next to the notebook, though by the looks of it she’s hardly touched it. “He said something interesting about Rickon Stark recently, his son Cregan is in King’s Landing.”

Aemond pulls his glass away from his lips, the sweet sting of alcohol slipping down his throat. “Shouldn’t be too unusual, they’re attending next week.” Staying at Dragonstone no less, some of Viserys’ most honoured guests.

“He’s staying at Queen’s Lodge.”

That takes him by surprise. “Hmm,” he says, bringing the glass to his lips again.

“He and Jacaerys are quite close, Aegon tells me.”

The Starks had visited Dragonstone once or twice as summer guests, back when they were all kids. Cregan was always talkative and effortlessly charming, but it was obvious to Aemond that his warmth was far more calculated than anyone else believed. He made sure Jaya kept her distance, but Jace followed him around like a lost puppy for the weeks he’d stay with their family.

They would have studied together at White Harbour, though Cregan was a few years older than Jace. They could have met again and reconnected. Aemond doesn’t interact with his nephew outside of necessity.

“And what would Aegon know about it?” he says.

“More than you,” a voice calls from the doorway. Aegon has ditched his suit for brown cargos and a comically baggy sports shirt, leaning against the frame. “Ran into them last weekend,” he says, grinning coldly and running his tongue over his teeth. “The Starks are making some close personal connections with our sister’s family.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Alicent sighs.

Aegon scoffs and makes a dismissive gesture. While their mother is still distracted, he looks at Aemond and raises his eyebrows.

“Set the table, Aegon,” Aemond grumbles.

His brother does as he’s told. Aemond helps Alicent bring the dishes in. She sits at the head of the table, Aemond to her right, Aegon opposite him, to her left. She says a quick prayer to the Seven, as she always does. She asks the Mother to protect her children and asks the Crone for wisdom, for a light in dark and uncertain times.

“Speaking of close personal connections,” Aegon says, already having wolfed down half of his plate. Aemond already hates the tone of this conversation. “We’ll finally get to meet Daeron’s new bit,”

“Do you have to say it like that?” Aemond says.

Aegon ignores him. “Are you excited to meet Nettles, mother?”

Daeron talks about her constantly. They met in Oldtwon while they were both studying. Now he’s working for the Citadel Institute, she’s some kind of journalist, and they live together in a perfect little flat that looks out over the Honeywine river. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“That can’t actually be her name, surely?” Alicent says.

“Perhaps it’s short for something,” Aemond says, prodding his food now to find himself with no appetite. He thinks about the drive he’ll have to make through the city, back to the empty house waiting for him on Silverwing Square.

“Nettles,” Aegon says, eyes on the ceiling like he’s trying to decipher a hidden meaning. “Nettles, like stinging nettles?”

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent says, looking down at the uneaten food on his plate, “what happened with Maris Baratheon, why is she not on the final guest list?”

Aegon smiles, folding his elbows on the table and leaning forward, eager to hear an explanation like he hasn’t already coaxed it out of Aemond over too many bottles of wine at a steak restaurant on Conquest Street.

“Things didn’t work out with Maris,” Aemond says shortly. An understatement. The thought of their last conversation makes him nauseous.

“Aemond, sometimes I feel like you don’t love me.”

“I don’t think I do,” which felt untruthful, because he knew from the start that he never would. There were lots of things he liked about Maris. He liked that she was interested in him, he liked that she was blunt and unrelentingly honest, he liked that she had dark hair, and that she liked being fucked from behind and would let him press her face down into the pillow to muffle her moans. Soon the things he liked about her only felt like another reminder.

“Maris is old news, mother,” Aegon says.

“What a shame,” Alicent says, reaching for her wine again. “Oh well, I don’t think Viserys particularly likes her father anyway.”

“Well you know Aemond, always striving for perfection.”

Aemond’s eye meets Aegon’s over the table. His brother is trying not to grin, violet eyes bright from the light of the candelabra between them. Shadows catch on the hollow parts of his face, it makes him look tired but vicious.

Then he looks to his mother. She eats slowly with small mouthfuls, not making eye contact with either of her sons. It’s not often he finds himself upset or angry with his mother, not since he was old enough to understand just how hard she has worked, or know what she’s had to put up with as the wife of Viserys Targaryen. Aemond knows she trusts him in a way that does not always extend to his siblings.

But now all he can think is that she knows about Jaya. She knows, and she won’t even look at him.

Jaya could be in King’s Landing this very moment, lounging around Queen’s Lodge, looking out over the orchard she watered with Aemond’s blood while her mother fawns over her only daughter’s return.

He just needs to say it. He won’t go to Dragonstone if Jaya is there, he won’t stand to be in the same room as her, or breathe the same air as her. The thought already sends a feeling like flames licking up his spine that makes him restless with rage, with hurt and betrayal.

Aegon is still watching him and gives him a small nod.

Aemond takes a soft breath through parted lips–

Until a sound comes from the hallway that makes them all freeze, the sound of the front door unlocking, opening, then slamming with an ear splitting bang!

Aemond feels his face harden, brows straining with every footstep that marches against the hardwood floors towards the dining room.

Viserys appears in the threshold, dressed in one of his red and black suits, his face one of stone cold fury. He doesn’t look at Alicent, or Aegon, his eyes are fixed on Aemond.

He steps slowly into the room, placing one hand on the back of the chair closest to him at the head of the table, miles away from the rest of his family. His voice is quiet and clear through the stunned silence. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Alicent makes a stuttering, scoffing noise. “Viserys–”

He holds up a finger to silence her, his eyes widening in warning. “Aemond,” he says, “you will answer me.”

Aemond keeps his jaw clenched at first. He can feel his teeth wanting to chatter, anger aching in every part of his body. He cannot afford to show any sign of weakness or remorse, not in front of his father. But why does it feel so difficult to speak? He swallows through a dry feeling in his throat. “I thought I’d worded it all very simply–”

“Look at me when I speak to you, boy.”

He hadn’t realised his gaze had fallen to the table. He looks up with an expression that is as passive as he can manage. “I would have thought it would be obvious why I can’t go, with the recent addition to the guestlist.”

His head is turned completely so that Viserys is in his line of vision, but he hears his mother make a small sighing sound. “Aemond, I was going to–”

“ALICENT!” Viserys roars.

Aemond feels himself flinch but his gaze is unwavering. Why does he think he has any right to barge in here, to ask anything of them?

If Aemond were to stand he’d be taller than his father, but he finds himself unable to move.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Viserys says to him. “This could be the single most important night for the family for centuries and you’re still holding onto childish grudges?”

Childish grudges. He was mutilated and forced to carry the blame because of a lie, but of course his father expects him to let go, to forgive and forget.

He feels the leather of the eyepatch digging uncomfortably into his forehead and wishes more than anything he could just tear it off.

There are some things Aemond can argue with Viserys about, but they tend to be logical arguments, work related. The longer he looks at his father the more he remembers that no amount of sense could ever compare to the blind devotion Viserys has for his eldest child. There’s nothing Aemond can appeal to, not love or loyalty, not even sympathy.

“This is not about you, Aemond. This is about the bank, this is about the Targaryen name, our legacy, does that all mean nothing to you?”

“Of course it does,” Aemond says. He’s worked for nothing else his whole life, Dragon Bank, his heritage as a Targaryen, what is he without all of that?

Viserys’ face softens a little, as if he thinks he’s made some kind of progress. “I’ve never known you to be selfish, it’s not in your nature.”

“Well then you clearly know nothing about me,” Aemond says, glaring up at him.

Viserys frowns. “You will be there, and I want to hear no more of it. You will be polite. You will grin and fucking bear it because that’s what the rest of us have to do.”

He’s delusional, he’s fucking delusional.

Aemond looks to his brother, slumped in his chair, his eyes even darker now. He has his hand around the stem of a wine glass. He’s been staring at the crimson liquid since their father walked in. He might have been expecting to be the target of Viserys’ anger tonight; he usually is.

Aegon looks across at him, furious, exhausted, eager for this exchange to be over. He tilts his head in a questioning motion, though his lips stay firmly sealed.

All the years he spent trying to be the best that he could, how hard he pushed himself to get through that final year at KLU while recovering from his injury, all the hours he’s devoted to the family business, all the times he’s kept his mouth shut and his head held high, is this the hill Aemond is going to die on?

He won’t try to look at his mother, but he can guess she would have a similar reasoning.

A fearsome wind from the Narrow Sea howls against the windows of Aemond’s black Jag. The road to Dragonstone is a desolate one, leading through a forest that might as well be nothingness in the dark. The headlights beam against the tarmac which turns and rises and falls, so he can never see what’s ahead of him.

There’s a burst of light as he approaches the gates. He hasn’t seen the gatehouse for years and remembers that he used to be scared of the stone dragon heads that stand open mouthed and teeth bared on either side, at the base of the turrets. Some hired security guard comes to his window, his demeanour changing completely when Aemond glares at him through a single eye.

Cars line the acres of grass before the house, the driveway lined with lanterns and more statuettes of dragons. Dragonstone lies ahead in its full glory, lights on in every window, moonlight shining upon its ancient walls so the castle looms in shadows and silver.

He must be one of the last people to arrive, the last of the important people, slotting the Jag next to a golden Dodge Charger he recognises as Aegon’s. The rest of the Targaryens all drive black cars.

He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror for as long as he can stand to look at himself, glaring at the blunt edges of the sapphire in his left socket, dull and dark in the low light. The flesh around his eyelids are twisted and red, the scar itself deep but clean. His mother had suggested they could get it looked at, to make his eye seem less severe, but that’s what the eyepatch is for, to cover up the worst of his injury, for the comfort of others and not his.

He slips the leather patch over his head and secures it in place, careful not to mess up his hair in the process.

One day he’ll make her look at it, the sapphire and the scar, maybe then she’ll understand what she put him through. Not tonight, no, tonight he intends to play it safe.

He effortlessly exits the car, checking his cuffs as he walks up to the front doors. A server offers him a glass of champagne when he steps into the entrance hall which he takes a small sip from, parched after his drive from King’s Landing. He knows his way through the opulent halls that have stayed the same for as long as he can remember, towards the hum of at least a hundred voices.

The ballroom glimmers with reflected light, mirrors, gold accents, crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses. The guests are all in their finery, tuxedos and floor length gowns, either in black or the colours of their houses. Some have started to take their seats around the circular tables, but many are still mingling.

Any head of silver hair stands out rather obviously, and the first he sees is his father standing in the centre of the ballroom, a smile on his face and his arm around his wife’s waist. Alicent is radiant in a gold gown that catches the warmth of the candles dotted about the room. She looks less than pleased being made to talk to Rhaenyra and Laenor– now there’s a surprise, he doesn’t usually make a habit of appearing at family events. Rhaenyra is in black, as is her husband, with a waistcoat embroidered with swirling gold patterns, like waves on the sea.

His eye continues to scour the room. He sees Helaena and Daeron with the girl he assumes is Nettles. He sees Aegon getting friendly with the Martell siblings. He sees Corlys and Rhaenys with Laena and Daemon. He sees Jacaerys standing with the Starks, closer than is friendly to Cregan. He sees those with the surnames Tyrell, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, all the others, and keeps searching.

She’s not where she’s meant to be, at the table closest to the high table where Viserys will sit with the board members. She’s not with her parents, she’s not at the bar, she’s not at the doors to the gardens. Each moment he does not find her fuels some kind of fire within him, adrenaline pumping through his blood, like he’s chasing something just out of his reach.

A flash of loose, dark hair steals his attention. He doesn’t see her face at first but he notices when she nudges his shoulder as she passes him on his blind side, very nearly ending up with champagne down her silky, off white gown or spilled across the string of pearls sitting on her bare collar.

He apologises on instinct, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket that has only ever been intended as decorative.

“No harm done,” the woman insists. “It’s good stuff, I would have been mortified to waste any of it.”

He recognises her face, the slanted nose, the sharpness of her cheeks, her bright green eyes and unsettlingly perfect smile. He’s seen her at press events, some kind of relation to the Strongs, but not close enough that she’d ever be invited to any personal occasions.

“Alys Rivers,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Deputy editor for Seven.” He’s heard of it, a high society gossip magazine, they often run stories about his family, Daemon and Aegon mostly, the rest of them clearly aren’t newsworthy.

“You used to work for the Harrenhal Observer, didn’t you?” he says.

“I did,” she says, “between you and me though, I think cousin Larys felt a little threatened.”

“Threatened?” Aemond says, noticing a pair of girls who are oddly familiar to him. He can’t place their names but he thinks they might be old friend’s of Jaya’s. They approach Jace, turning their heads around frequently like they’re looking for something. “How so?”

“He thought I was too opinionated,” Alys says, keeping her eyes on his.

“I didn’t think there could be such a thing,” Aemond says, though now he thinks he recognises the girls from one of the parties at Maegor’s Square, from years ago. One of them meets his gaze and quickly looks away.

“The Observer is supposedly a neutral publication after all, I had a few things to say about the working conditions at the Casterly Rock mines which caused quite a stir.”

That’s where he recognises her name from. Viserys wasn’t happy with the article given their ties to the Lannisters and their gold. It sets off a silent alarm in his head, suddenly her gaze is a little too scrutinising for his liking and he’s aware of every breath he takes, shallow or deep, soft or sharp, she could use anything against him.

“I heard a rumour you weren’t going to be attending tonight’s event,” she says.

“It’s Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary,” he says, “I’m incredibly proud of all the work my family has put into the last five hundred years.”

“You say that like you’re expecting this conversation to go to print.”

“That’s why you approached me, is it not?”

She hums a gentle laugh to herself as her gaze roams over his suit, black, simple and perfectly fitted. She looks back to his face, he sees the way her eyes flicker to his left side. She smiles lazily in a way that makes him wonder if she’s trying to flirt, and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer until he can smell the classic, musky scent of her perfume. He lets her do it, lets her lips get closer to his ear.

“I only wanted to see if you had something interesting to say,” Alys whispers over the noise of the party.

He glances up, towards the grand fireplace at the end of the room. Gold plated engravings of dragons intertwine and spread their wings, framing the fire that burns within.

She’s standing there, a glass of champagne in one hand, in an emerald green dress suited for summer, loose fabric, exposing her arms, her hair pulled up into a style that’s effortlessly elegant.

Their eyes meet. It’s like electricity strikes his heart.

Six years fades into oblivion, she looks different and exactly the same. He can almost believe he’s never known a life without her, but she’s always been there, hasn’t she? An unspoken secret, living in the lightest and the darkest parts of his mind.

He can see the moment of recognition, when her expression goes from passive and proud to alert, eyes widening, lips falling, her hand lowering the glass to the nearest surface.

It’s dangerous how quickly he can already feel himself start to slip. He’s had seven days to prepare and part of him is still in disbelief that Jaya is a living, breathing person and not just a memory. Another part of him is calm and unsurprised, like he’s always known she was going to come back. To King’s Landing, to the family business, to him.

He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his head or his chest, but he feels empty, starved to the point of ravenous.

Jaya starts to move through the crowd, towards the glass doors that lead to an outlook over the gardens and the sea. It only sparks excitement for Aemond, imagining all the thoughts that could be swimming through her head, anger, pride, fear. By the Seven he hopes one of those is fear.

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“What?” he says, looking back to Alys.

“I thought I’d refresh my memory a little before I came here tonight. It’s been six years since Jaya Velaryon was in King’s Landing. The two of you were close, weren’t you?”

Close.

Close like the way Jaya used to hug him when they were children. She’d wrap her little arms so tightly around his chest or his neck that he could hardly breathe. He’d tell her to stop, shove her away, but then she’d only cry, and he could never say no to her after that.

Close like their minds worked in the same way, when they only needed to look at each other a certain way to know what they were both thinking.

Close like the air of his bedroom the first night they kissed, feeling the shared warmth, her body against his, the softness of her skin, when she tasted like wine and smelled like smoke.

Close was never close enough, but what difference did it make?

“Then there was that accident at Queen’s Lodge. The press release was so vague, it only said you and Jacaerys were recovering from minor injuries…”

Aemond glares at her, the same look that would usually silence Aegon, but Alys Rivers is not afraid of his warning.

She makes a gesture to his eye. “I mean, clearly one injury was more severe than the other. Curious that Jaya left for Pentos so soon after that when she was due to start at KLU that year. Why did she leave, do you know?”

Aemond pushes past her without another word, towards the glass doors that only Jaya has passed through in the last minute or so. The other guests are starting to take their places at the tables now. He sees Rhaenyra and Laenor looking around the room, having gathered their other three brats. His own mother tries to capture his attention but his mind can only think of one thing. He walks towards the doors as calmly as he can, even though it feels as if his life depends on reaching them, on reaching her.

The doors lead out to a patio, seemingly empty right up to the balustrade. He walks to the edge, the noise of the party lost to the roar of the wind and the waves in his ears, no doubt his hair will be blown into a mess but he doesn’t care.

Everything below him is black, out of reach from the lights of the castle. Then he spots something, a flicker of flame far below him, down a series of steps, out of view, down at an outlook over the sea. She shields it with her hand, lighting a cigarette by the look of it, until the end glows with a red ember.

He walks slowly, savouring the sound of every step his shoes make against the paving stones. He keeps his hands in his pockets, single eye fixated on the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her spine and her waist through the dress.

He tries to guess the moment she realises when she’s not alone. She angles her head slightly as he reaches the bottom of the steps, still a good distance away from her. He watches her take one drag from the cigarette before she lowers it, resting her hand against the stone balcony.

He comes close enough to realise she’s shaking, jaw clenched, looking almost determinedly out across the sea. The wind cuts across his cheeks like it’s burning his skin, so how she can stand to be out here with nothing to protect herself from the cold is almost admirable. It is also foolish of her.

Goosebumps bloom over her skin, skin he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.

And she won’t look at him.

She won’t look at him.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

Series taglist: @aemondsbabygirl @persephonerinyes @sirenangelroyal @qyburnsghost @adragonprinceswhore @boundlessfantasy @asumofwords @summerposie @thedamewithabook @ammo23 @valyrianflower @jiminie-08 @magnificentdelusionr @hiddencurator

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #modern!au #aemond targaryen smut #it will come back #hozier coded #my fics

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stardustizuku · 8 months

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Something I find extremely refreshing in AoB is how the narrative lets Rozemyne be a warrior, and the one with the most political influence on her own.

Ive read too many Isekai and almost all the time the power a Female Lead wields is entirely on who she marries or who is interested in her. She may be just the daughter of a marquis, but the crown prince is so infatuated with her, he’ll do anything! So that means he’ll solve all her problems for her!

Which is, fine in some cases. But I noticed this means that if she gets wronged, she’s the never the one to get revenge (even in so called “villainess” stories).

This ties into the idea of women having to remain “good”, so while they are allowed to want revenge, they can never enact it. Or at least not be the one to, through violence, deal the final blow. This would make them directly responsible for their actions. So while the villain/villainess can die, it can never be the FL who uses the sword to kill them. It always has to be through the Male Lead, another Villain, or even the Court System.

So by having the Male Lead be the one to physically enact the revenge or wielding the power - the Female Lead gets to come out as the “good” one in the READER’s eyes. Because her actions can never be morally grey (in fear of alienating readers)

HOWEVER by doing this you also make her power subservient to the man’s affection towards her. And makes her overall power to come off as…useless in some cases.

I just read one where the, supposedly, genius swordswoman is almost r*ped. She does try to attack the man, but gets overwhelmed. The prince is the one who jumps into the action to not only save her, but kill the man. Which was infuriating cause: Why did the author chose to rob her main character of being the one to hurt the men who hurt her? Minutes later she does kill a man, so it was entirely so she could be saved by a man from an even worse man.

But AoB doesn’t do that.

Rozemyne is powerful, because she wields insane amounts of power as Rozemyne. She’s the one who creates trends, she’s the one who knows the Bible, she’s the one who created paper books, she’s the one forming alliances and creating her own “faction” of sorts that is 120% loyal to her.

Never does her power become related to who she’s engaged with. Her power is inherent to her, and people try to tie her down or control her via marriage. She gets engaged to Wilfred because she’s becoming too influential and they hope that that can be transferred to Wilfred and cement HIS position as the next in line. She gets engaged to Sisgwald because she’s the one who is closest to getting the Book of Mestionora and they NEED her be part of the royal family.

The only instance in which she wields the power of who she’s engaged to get away with anything - is during the Ahrensbach attack and it’s simply a

Which facilitated everything but given the circumstances, she was gonna do it even if he didn’t give her his blessing.

Even with her endgame partner, Ferdinand, the dynamic is so different.

In most stories the FL attracts the attention of progressively more powerful and higher-ranking-than-her men, and most always ends up with the one with the highest political power.

In more than one occasion I’ve seen a FL ditch the knight who’s been with her since day 1, to be with the crown prince cause he’s the one who will make her the most powerful woman in the room. It’s always framed as “true love” but sometimes it’s done so poorly you can see that’s just the author wanting her to end up as a princess.

Ferdinand is never the most powerful man in the room. At least politically speaking. Yes, he’s the smartest, most capable and the one pulling the strings, but that doesn’t translate to political power. In part 2, in the temple, the one with the most power is Bezewanst. And part 3 an onwards, you could argue Rozemyne is always the one with the higher rank.

In the temple, she’s the High Bishop, and in the castle she’s an archduke candidate with Leisgang blood. Ferdinand is the High Priest and the half brother of the archduke with no real faction behind him. Rozemyne is aware that titles aren’t the only thing that matters and Ferdinand is obviously the best because he’s capable - but that’s not the norm in most Isekai stories.

It’s even used at times as a way to alíviate Ferdinand’s burden. She’s the High Bishop - she’s capable of denying extra work and even ordering him to take care of himself.

Even as Ferdinand is married off, the one creating connections to the royal family to alíviate his pain is Rozemyne, not the other way around. The one wielding her power to force others to protect her loved ones is HER. Ferdinand is, up to that point, only trying to save himself and Ehrenfest. Rozemyne fits the archetype of a Male Lead far better than Ferdinand in some cases.

And while she never gets to give out the order or kill someone whos wronged her directly, it doesn’t feel bad because one, Rozemyne rarely holds a grudge and sees them getting disposed outside of her eyes as the best way to handle it. Because two, she hates blood and unnecessary violence. And that, in the narrative, is genuinely presented as a flaw. It’s not a “she’s so pure she can’t be mean”, it’s a “she would do it but she genuinely can’t stomach it”. She could do it, she would rather not.

There’s also the fact that she’s genuinely good at combat - at least as a strategist, healer and commander. Her inability to wield a sword to directly attack others (but she did use the spear once) and frail nature, is not doesn’t feel like an excuse to not have her kill, but a limit. She can’t do everything. She’s filling a lot of positions, having her grab a sword is not only out of character but unnecessary.

The only people who she seems to hold a very real grudge against are Georgine and Detline, and that’s entirely for what they’ve done to others, not her. And while I’m still in part 8, her not being the one to directly kill then of get rid of them in the future, does not seem bad. Because Ferdinand and Sylvester have waaaay more reasons to hate them and get their revenge.

#ascendance of a bookworm #honzuki no gekokujou #this got longer than intended #oh well #manhua #mini essay

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williamrikers · 1 year

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King of the Cardboard Castle

- thoughts on kanghan after episode 2 -

i just rewatched the episode (because it slaps so hard, i'm fully on board and invested in this show now), and i want to write a little something on kanghan because i see some people in the tag confused by his choices. why did he go to sailom's with a gun? why did he end up comforting sailom? i think it's all very understandable from his character's perspective.

so, to me, that cardboard castle tells us everything we need to know about kanghan: his power is an illusion, built on an unsteady foundation, and could be torn down at any moment. kang is intimately aware of this and does everything he can to try and consolidate the little power and influence he has by any means necessary.

why use a gun to threaten sailom?

but sailom isn't afraid or deferential. he never, EVER is.

kanghan needs to feel dominant. he needs to feel powerful, and literally the only guy at school who keeps defying him is sailom. sailom keeps coming out on top time and time again because he's smarter than kang and never actually starts shit, he just reacts to what's happening, making him basically immune to being ratted out to people in positions of authority. even kang's own grandmother sees through kang's shitty attempts at manipulation and chastises kang in front of the principal.

kanghan's only power is that over the kids at school, truly a king of a very small and incredibly meaningless kingdom. but it is effective in making him feel powerful: all of the other kids defer to kanghan or are openly terrified of him (we saw them all dutifully lining up to have the videos removed from their phones, none of them are ever going to challenge kang).

and kang resents that--has a deep need to put sailom in his place, because he wants that feeling of total power. he wants all of his classmates to defer to him, not just 90% of them. at this point, it's turned into an obsession for him: make sailom afraid just once. make him tremble before kang just once. make him get down on his knees JUST ONCE. (and no, there is no gay subtext at all to kang insisting again and again that sailom should get down on his knees. don't worry about it kanghan your secret gay fantasies are safe with me 😘)

like, he's tried everything else: threatening him physically, trying to get him fired from his job at the car wash, ACTUALLY getting him fired from his job tutoring, hurting his friends, trying to convince his grandmother to cancel his scholarship, taunting him about his home situation and lack of money, actually throwing money in his face/on the ground (from what i understand, a taboo in thailand). and none of it has worked to make sailom treat him with the respect and fear he thinks he deserves. sailom would rather have given up his scholarship than lie about what happened and wrongfully apologize to kang. at this point, i feel like kang is too far gone to be able to back out. he has set this goal for himself (humiliate sailom), and it's been eating his brain. he can't rest until he finally gets what he wants.

can i just put in a quick tangent in here gushing over CHIMON'S MICROEXPRESSIONS!!! god, this man is a joy to watch, just look at the money throwing scene in part 3/4; the depth of emotion chimon manages to convey with just the slightest changes of expression is incredible. i've said this before and i will say it again: chimon is one of the strongest actors on the gmmtv roster right now and i am in awe of his skill.

anyway, kang goes to sailom's house fully intent on humiliating him, but what he finds there is so much worse than any of his own bullying has managed to be. for all his talk, kanghan is not a particularly scary or successful bully: he's the king of the cardboard castle. his power is an illusion, propped up by his family name and his family's money. i don't think he would be capable of taking a hot iron and burning someone with it--the level of violence that sailom is subjected to (ON THE REGULAR, I MIGHT ADD) is completely out of kang's wheelhouse.

and i do think that at this point he genuinely feels for sailom. that he genuinely does feel sorry for him, because you can't be obsessed with someone to the point of going to their house with a gun without caring about them in some way. on the contrary, the kind of obsession kang has with sailom runs bone-deep, and i am absolutely team "kang is going to fall first and fall hard". he's already obsessed with the guy! he values sailom's emotional state in a way he doesn't anyone else's! (sure, initially it's because he wants to make sailom submit but all that obsessive energy has to go SOMEWHERE, right.)

seeing sailom cowering and crying does put things in perspective for kanghan, i think. the way he reaches out to him seems almost involuntary, the way he touches him is hesitant and unsure. but this does read as a very genuine and understandable reaction to me: no matter their differences at school, this is a person who kang knows and, in a twisted way, cares very much about. the normal human reaction at this point is to reach out, to offer comfort, no matter how you feel about the person. it would have been weirder to me if he hadn't, honestly.

also, a note on the use of "friend" by kang in this scene: i've seen people making a big deal out of this but it's absolutely not that deep. please correct me if i'm wrong but as i understand it, "puen" is also frequently used to refer to classmates/people in the same year at uni, no matter whether you're close to them or not. "friend" is just a translation choice which fits imo, because you wouldn't say "get away from my classmate" in english. you'd probably say "get away from my friend" instead, even if you're not really friends, and translation is also about what makes sense in the target language. so him saying that is not some big 180, he's basically just stating that he knows sailom from school.

anyway, where was i going with all of this? to me, kang's choices in this episode are all completely justified from his character's perspective. i neither find it odd that he tried to threaten sailom with a gun, nor that he ended up comforting sailom. because everything he is and claims to be is built on cardboard: the guy doesn't know himself. we know he has some deeply, DEEPLY repressed gay fantasies and that he gets obsessed with the first person to openly defy him because that threatens the stability of his cardboard castle. what if everyone realises that deep down, kanghan is a cringefail loser who is so starved for love and attention he would rather fill the hole in his heart with violence and cruelty than be honest about who he is? what if everyone finds out he's not as scary as he'd like to be?

the cardboard underneath kang is flimsy, and i'm pretty sure his castle is going to collapse pretty soon.

#i might love kang more than i thought. ended up writing an essay about it whoops #dangerous romance #dangerous romance the series #*mine

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aria-ashryver · 10 months

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Meet my MC - Luca O'Rinn

Name and Meaning: Luca — Bringer of Light / O'Rinn — Descendant of the Stars

Book: Immortal Desires Love Interests: Cas Harlow and Gabriel Adalhard Pronouns: He/they Birthday: 5th January 1997 Sign: Aquarius Born: Kinloch Rannoch, Scotland Raised: Inverness, Scotland Heritage: Scottish with ancestral roots in Ireland

More under the cut! 🖤✨

Family

Therese “Terri” O’Rinn (mother) Wayne MacAllister (father — estranged) John “Jock” O’Rinn (grandfather) Esther O’Rinn (grandmother) Morag O'Rinn (great aunt) Phoebe O’Rinn (cousin)

Skills / Hobbies

Dance, drums, butterfly knives, annoying ancient vampires with incessant questions and somehow not being murdered outright

Random Trivia

Luca has an avid curiosity (which often gets them into trouble) and is fascinated by how the world works — in every possible universe, they would have found out about the vampires in Crimson Beech.

He gets bored if he hasn’t learnt something new in a while.

Luca has Combined Type ADHD and frequently needs something to do with their hands — they can often be found flipping small items (pens, drum sticks, balisongs, etc, their phone, if they can’t get their hands on anything else)

...His phone screen is always cracked.

TERRIBLE at replying to text messages if they don’t do it then and there. Cannot make a phone call to save their life.

Has no problem biting ice cream, but sometimes sensory things ( unexplained sticky hands, clothes textures that feel suddenly wrong) with make them explode with sudden rage that comes on fast and goes away even faster. (It always alarms Gabriel whenever it happens. He tries to help and inevitably gets in the way and makes it worse. Cas knows to just ignore him when he’s having a moment.)

Loves playfighting with Cas (despite always losing and probably getting thrown somewhere)

Late. For everything. All the time. Zero time management skills.

Luca's first crush was Howl Pendragon of Studio Ghibli's Howl's Moving Castle

He takes his tea/coffee without milk bc he’s forever forgetting to drink it — there is always a small army of half-full, forgotten cups and mugs around his room.

Restless sleeper, abhors early mornings, can’t fall asleep unless he feels safe (which leads to a lot of falling asleep on Gabriel and Cas)

He despises math and still counts on his fingers. Numbers make his brain short-circuit.

Will absolutely eat food off the floor if they drop it.

Forests have always made him feel calm and want to dance.

Luca has had a habit since childhood where, any time they are walking alone through a forest, they’ll slow their pace and hum a gentle tune, trying to see if they can catch sight of any fairies or little fae creatures out of the corner of their eye. (Which seemed like a silly superstition until a few months ago, but now that they know vampires are real? Hey, maybe little Luca was on to something.)

Education (Scotland)

Rather than traditional schooling, Luca attended a specialised Arts school from the age of 14, in their hometown of Inverness, Scotland. Avalon Academy of the Arts is an alternative educational institution, covering both secondary- and tertiary-level studies in fields such as traditional arts and media, photography, music, theatre, and dance.

At Avalon, Luca trained primarily in ballet, lyrical jazz, contemporary, jazz funk, street dance, and urban hip-hop. Luca does enjoy ballet, but he found most of the ballet students too pretentious, cut-throat, and close-minded to consider pursuing a career in ballet long-term (especially as a non-binary dancer in an extremely gendered environment).

Luca’s main dance style tends toward a unique blend of lyrical, ballet, and street — though in recent years, there is definitely something of a K-Pop influence present in their choreography. They idolise Lee Taemin of SHINee, in part because of his expression and technical precision, but also because of the androgyny and power of Taemin’s dance style. They enjoy watching dance practice videos on YouTube in order to study other dancer’s body lines, transitions, and use of tension.

Education (USA)

In transferring to Crimson Beech High to round out their formal education, it became clear that Luca was very behind in some areas (math, physics, sciences) and very ahead in others (history, literature, anything pertaining to arts studies).

The semesters at Avalon do not align with traditional US schooling system (beginning in February and wrapping up in December to mirror their sister school in Avalon, Australia), so Luca is actually marginally older than many of his current classmates at Crimson Beech High.

(well. Those that aren’t vampires, anyway).

As at the first chapter of ID/SICSIG, Luca is 18, and will be turning 19 in January.

Hobbies

Luca could have taken music as an elective at Avalon, but he never did. Music is something that is purely for self expression and fun. While he did take drum lessons for about a year as a child, most of Luca’s musical ability comes from the school of fucking around and finding out — he is a kinaesthetic learner, so much of his drumming is self-taught.

Wayne (read: awful person) never really approved of Luca’s dancing and wanted them to quit when they first started taking lessons in primary school, but Terri put her foot down when she saw how happy it made them to have a form of self-expression that really spoke to who they were. As a means of compromise, Wayne suggested Luca take up drumming — something he saw as a suitably “masculine” hobby to “help him man up”.

A lot of the arguments Wayne and Terri had regarding Luca’s hobbies in their formative years were, in truth, veiled conversations about Luca’s sexuality and gender identity. Terri has never been anything but accepting of her child, and Wayne has never been able to get his head out of his own ass around Luca being gay, let alone non-binary. Though Terri tried to shield them from it, Luca often bore the burnt of a tirade of queerphobic verbal abuse, which escalated to physical violence in the years preceding Wayne and Terri’s separation.

There were a whole host of reasons why the O’Rinn household wasn’t the easiest or safest place to be growing up (which I have explored more in Starlight!); understandably, Luca had a lot of energy (and, in the years before Wayne’s arrest, a lot of anger) that he was able to take out on his drum kit.

Drumming on his own has turned into a really therapeutic space for Luca, wherein he can get into a flow state, lose the outside world, and work through a lot of his feelings. As much as Luca despises his father, he loves his drums — and knowing his father was the one to buy him his first ever drum kit is something of a sore spot. To this day, Luca still has mixed feelings about it.

Drumming with Viktor’s band, however, became a space of growth and celebration. Your Bisexual Awakening (as they are currently called — the band's name changes with almost every gig) is made up of other students from Avalon, and is unapologetically queer and in your face about it. They mostly play classic rock, punk, and grunge tracks, but ultimately do not limit themselves by genre.

Viktor, the band’s vocalist and frontman, is an OC (and will probably get his own "Meet My OC" profile!) (eventually); the other band members are Easter Eggs from other Choices books: WtD’s Angel on bass, NB’s Cal on keys, and ILITW’s Ava on lead electric guitar.

You can find out more about Luca via my masterlist, or read about them in my longfic, snow in crimson, starlight in gold on AO3! 🖤(direct link, fic is rated Explicit)

tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations

#SICSIG #luca o'rinn #meet my mc #cfwc meet my mc #choices immortal desires #immortal desires #playchoices fanfic #choices fic writers creations #🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈

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jiliansky-blog · 11 months

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Witche's love. Chapter 2. Old flame of love

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 1800

When you fell asleep, you appeared in the Dreaming. You found the necklace that Morpheus gave you. You hid it in one of your old boxes with jewelry. Furthermore, you didn’t touch it for a long time. And you wear it now. It was a strange feeling. And you haven’t visited the Dreaming also for a long time. And he was there, waiting for you.

He was still handsome, but now he looked modern in his black robe. But he looked so much paler. And tired. You felt strange. You understood that you still have feelings for him. And something in his eyes makes you cry.

“Y\N”, he said.

“Morpheus”, I whispered. “We don’t see each other for a long time”.

“Indeed”, he said. “You shouldn’t come, though. I don’t know what they were thinking. I can handle everything myself”.

“I know”, you nodded.

“And no one can stop them”, he continued.

“I can try to influence, though”, you admitted. “I can persuade another witch to stop”.

It seemed to you that the weather had become colder. He doesn’t like to think about her.

“What do you know about her?” he asked coldly.

Perhaps, it would make everything worse if you said that you knew about their history. It would be better to avoid that theme.

“I know that she is preventing you from reaching the woman who started all of this”, you said. “You couldn’t persuade her”.

“That’s right”, he nodded. “But I still don’t see how you can help”.

“I just told you”, you sighed. “I can persuade her, and if I fail, I will stop with the help of magic”.

“Why?” he frowned.

“With another ritual, of course”, you said.

“No, why do you help me?” he asked.

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt”, you confessed. “Do you think that I will be happy if you disappear? No, I won’t”.

“I thought you moved on”, he admitted.

You sighed. You tried to move on with your life. But you couldn’t forget him, and you couldn’t fall out of love with him either.

“I do”, you said, nodding. "Still, I want to help you”.

“Very well”, he sighed, tired. “If you think that you can change everything, then I won’t stop you”.

“Morpheus?” you said when he turned back to the castle.

“Yes?” he looked at you.

“I was trying to find you”, you confessed. “When you were... you know, gone during Sleeping sickness”.

The kaleidoscope of emotions appeared in his eyes and was hidden by his stoic expression.

“Who told you about that?” he asked.

“Nobody”, you shrugged. “I figure out that only your disappearance can cause such a disaster. I’m sorry I failed to find you”.

“It wasn’t your fault”, he whispered.

“I know”, you said. “And still, I’m sorry I couldn’t help. I don’t want your suffering. Not all people are the same”.

You wanted to say “and witches too”, but it would be overstepping. You still don’t want him to know that you know about their love story.

“Thank you,”, he whispered. “For coming here”.

You smiled and entered the castle with him. Morpheus said you can pick any room, and no one will bother you.

“Do you know where she is?” you asked. “You can show me the way into her dreams”.

“Her dreams can also be protected”, he said. “She will expect me there. You need to be careful around her”.

“I will”, you promised.

“Then close your eyes”, he said softly.

You wanted to close your eyes. You wanted to look at him. Furthermore, you didn’t see him for so long. But you're here to help, not to watch. And you close your eyes. You felt his touch before you appeared in some dark place.

“Who is there?” You heard a female voice. “Morpheus, is it you? I told you not to come”.

When your eyes are used to darkness, you see that you are in a dark room, and there is a woman with brown hair and glasses. She looked at you coldly, but was surprised. So this is Thessaly. The witch that broke his heart and doomed him to death.

“Not Morpheus”, you said coldly.

“I can see that”, she replied. “Then who are you?”

You don’t like her. She felt older than you are, even. And she is cold and skeptical. And also powerful, so you do need to be careful.

“My name is Y\N”, you replied. “I came here to talk”.

“You are in my secluded dream”, she said. “So you came from the Dreaming. You want to talk about Morpheus”.

“You are right”, you said. “Your actions are hurting him. And I don’t talk about you, breaking his heart. But I need to admit that it may affect him too”.

“Oh, he told you about us?” she asked. “I surprised”.

“He didn’t”, you replied. "Also, you don’t let him handle Lyta Hall. She doomed him. She led Furies to him. Do you want him dead?”

“No, I'm just bored”, she said.

“You are cruel”, you replied. “Do you know that he can’t hurt her?”

“He can, if there will be a straight danger for him”, she said.

“And why do you care about her?” you asked.

“I don’t”, she shrugged. “I just want to see how this story is going to end. And you are a very interesting plot twist”.

“I’m not a plot twist”, you admitted. “I need you to stop doing what you are doing right now. I am here to help Morpheus”.

“You can’t help him”, she said with a cold heart. “With me or without. Oh, I see. You have feelings for him”.

“It doesn’t matter”, you denied.

“No, it matters”, the witch replied. “Even though he hurt you in the past, I can see this in your eyes. But it doesn’t change anything. You can’t persuade me or save him, little witch”.

The next minute, you wake up in the room Morpheus gave you. So she knew that you were the witch. Well, Thessaly, it doesn’t change anything either.

“Are you alright?” Matthew asked.

He was sitting by the window and watching you. You sat on the bed.

“I suppose so”, you replied. “She kicked me out of her dream, but she didn’t hurt me. So it can change if I start to spell magic”.

“Oh, I didn’t doubt she could”, he said.

“What are you doing here anyway?” you asked.

“The boss asked me to look after you”, he replied. “You know, he can look calm, but he still cares about you deep down in his heart”.

“Of course, I can help him”, you sighed. “He doesn’t want my death to be on his account”.

“That’s nothing like that”, he said.

“I don’t think that he still has feelings for me”, you admitted.

“He changed after his imprisonment”, he replied. “Lucienne told me. I became a raven after that, too. He doesn’t even want me to help him. I think he doesn’t want to lose me too”.

“Anyway, I should start preparing my spells”, you said. “Or all of this stuff won’t matter. She won’t give easily”.

“I won’t bother you then”, he said, and he flew away.

And then you woke up in your flat again. You need to have everything prepared. The battle can be pretty difficult. You painted the seal, placed candles and some herbs, and started to read the spell to break the protection circle that Thessaly had made.

That witch made you angry. She doesn’t care a damn about Morpheus. She doesn’t care about his death. That situation amused her. What a bitch.

All your anger strengthens your power. And you continued to read the spell.

Morpheus

I didn’t know what I should do. Be angry with Matthew for bringing my old lover here, or be thankful. All my feelings returned when I saw her. But I didn’t want to ruin her life. I hurt her once, and I don’t want to do this again.

“Why did you do that?” I asked Lucienne.

“What, my lord?” The librarian looked confused.

“Why did you find her?” I asked. “I don’t want her to see me gone again”.

“She wants to prevent it, and I want to prevent it”, she replied. “Only a witch can stop another witch”.

“Thessaly can be a more powerful witch than Y\N”, I replied. “She can be hurt. I don’t want her to be hurt on my account”.

“I know, but she seemed to know the risks”, she said softly. “And she wants to help you anyway. Let her help you, my lord”.

“Very well”, I frowned. “If she gets hurt, you and Matthew will be responsible for this”.

She nodded, and I returned to the throne room. Now my head was full of memories.

A long time ago

“I don’t understand”, Death said. “I thought you were happy”.

“I was”, I replied. “I just don’t want to ruin her life”.

“You know, she is immortal, aren’t you?” she asked. “Nothing bad will happen if you stay with her. Sometimes, you are overthinking everything”.

“I made everyone unhappy”, I declined.

“You can’t know that for sure,” her sister said.

“It would be better that way”, I replied.

“That decision will make her unhappy for sure”, she noticed. “You should talk to her at least. Perhaps, you will figure out a better decision”.

“No”, I sighed.

She whispered something about my stubbornness. And then went away. I went to Y\N to tell her about my decision.

“Morpheus?” She smiled brightly. “I didn’t expect you to show up today. But I'm glad to see you anyway. "Has something happened?”

“I came to say that our time together is finished”, I said, feeling the emptiness inside of me grow. I didn’t want to do it, but she would be better for me.

“What?” She looked at me like she saw a stranger.

“We can’t be together anymore”, I whispered.

“Can you name the reason?” she asked. “I… I know that you will get tired of me eventually. But at least name the good reason”.

“Our love was... unreal”, I said, disappearing. I heard her calling my name.

I expected her to see in the Dreaming and wonder if it would be right to close the Dreaming for her. But she won’t appear. Not this night, not the next.

All my relationships ended in disaster. We will feel pain, but at least it won’t be a catastrophe.

Nowadays

Now I didn’t know why I ended our relationship or why she was helping me after all the pain I had caused her. And even I can’t imagine why she was looking for me. To gloat? To ask something? To revenge? But she didn’t say anything about her reasons. She doesn’t try to find me now. I need to talk to her. To understand.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe @ladymoztaza

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #the sandman #sandman fanfiction

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a-local-idiots-shitpost · 1 year

Text

Barbatos with a Mouse person!Mc

this piece belongs to this and has 604 Words

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one of the only people in all three Realms who are capable of startling him is a Sorcerer with Mouse features who is loved by everybody, does this sound like the start of a horrible joke? yes because as much as he would like them he has to hold himself back from banishing from the Castle based on their… peculiar features

which is a shame because they are a great help around the Castle, unless he finds them and in his panic ruins everything they cleaned up Barbatos can´t see anything Mouse like without trying to get ride of it no matter they cost, they even get along well with Diavolo and most important of all stop him from going through with some of his more crazy ideas

thinking about actually they might be a bad influence for Diavolo because while they might talk him out of his own bad ideas he´ll happily go along with theirs, like the one they have now…

Diavolo but down some cage doors between the door of his room and he could see him as well as them with the ground covered in mice, and the second biggest mouse was around knee high to them and it´s terrifying

as soon as Diavolo saw him he gave him his brightest grin “Barbatos wasn´t their idea great, they asked me to close all exits to my room while gathering all the mice and rats around the Castle so we can get them somewhere else” he wouldn´t be surprised is the Mouse tricked him because they knew what they did with gathering them all in one place

while Barbatos was deep in thought he didn´t notice one of the mice trying to crawl towards him and if he could he would have gladly burnt down they entire Castle but it would take to long to clean out and rebuild so he has to hold himself back

“wasn´t that such a great idea? I even asked Solomon to tell them to please not come back because you aren´t a fan of them and they even agreed” they looked far to proud of themself, he knows they are planning something worse or the most unlikely one of all they actually are just being nice

“all we need is one big cage and you won´t have to worry about anything hiding in the Castle” Barbatos glared at them and they were starting to look a bit nervous “unpleasant surprise?”

“you thought gathering all the rats and mice from around here in one place would be a good idea?”

“to be fair I´m not known for making good decisions” Barbatos would have loved to scold him but saw the awkward look Diavolo gave and decided to drop it, Diavolo doesn´t like it when he fights with his friends

“and what is your plan to get them out of here? because I won´t be helping you and neither will Diavolo” Diavolo gave him a sad look but didn´t say anything

“teleportation” he must have heard them wrong because what?

“you´re trying to tell me you could have teleported yourself and your friends away without me seeing? But still insisted on showing me the one thing I hate more than anything”

“you can look at me just fine” he didn´t even give them the satisfaction of looking angry or even changing his mimic at all

he just gave them a blank look before “friendly” telling them to leave

“please leave and never come back before I do something we all will regret” and just like that the room was empty and he got some peace of mind

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfiction #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos

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i-need-to-touch-grassss · 2 years

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Here is for the anon who asked for the yan!Pure Vanilla!

warnings: yandere behavior (i don't support behavior like this this irl)

(i tried to make this one as long as possible as an apology for not updating sooner)

✧ GENERAL HCS FOR Yan!Pure Vanilla ✧

✧ Pure Vanilla is someone who gets jealous easily and is very possessive

✧ probably uses his reputation of being nice to hide his real intentions

✧ he has definitely tripped over his robe at least once while stalking you

He fell into a bush and made a noise that sounded like a squeal several cookies heard it, including you

When you checked on him and helped him up, his face was literally so red it could rival Chili Pepper’s hair, and he looked as if he could barely stand (it took everything he had to not start gushing)

After that, he wore something easier to get around in

✧ He is so touch starved

Like sure, he's surrounded by people, but what's the point if it isn't you?

Exactly. There is no point.

✧ he thinks as long as it doesn't get out of hand, it should be fine

But because it's up to him where to draw the line, chances are, that line is as non-existent as his mental stability

✧ he lets you live in the castle with him, but should you want to leave for whatever reason, he will have to take extra precautions in order to keep you with him

he manages to delude himself into thinking that this is for the best

“It's for your own good, if you stay here with me, it won't be so bad! Just give it a try won't you, darling?”

he'll be sure to be sweet and gentle with you, even if you upset him and tell him you’d like to leave

✧ Whether you know it or not, you're stuck with him. There isn't anything you can do to sway his decisions

✧ he partakes in couple's activities with you, things like tending to the flowers, sitting by the fire and reading peacefully, and taking walks around the garden

he‘ll give you anything, anything but freedom

✧ Sure, he doesn't have the power to make anyone do anything they don't want to (you're an exception to this rule)

But he does still have the power of influence over many so it shouldn't be hard to remove any disturbances

✧ overall, there’s totally worse, compared to some others, he is decently tame (can you even consider a yandere tame??)

He’s already lost so much. He can't lose you too. He will make sure of it. Just go along with him, for everyone’s sake

Guess who just got better from a 103-104 fever and almost got sent to the emergency room! Me. It's me. I'm finally better though and ready to start working on my requests again! Keep sending them in, also I don't mind you guys sending in prompts too! It's not needed but it's helpful for when i have writers block

#crk #crk x reader #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom

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wibble-wobbegong · 2 years

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Mike Wheeler and Jonathan Harker: Being Trapped in the Mindscape

OKAY very very very excited to talk about this one!!! When I say everything just keeps pointing towards the hostage theory, I’m so fucking serious. Dracula takes it to another level, and reinforces the sub-theory that Mike is going to be exploring parts of Henry’s mind while he’s there. I don’t wanna say too much, so just come on a journey with me as I go absolutely nuts.

There is a section in here that discusses Henry’s perversion and CSA, which I’ll mark with orange lines like this -> —————————

It isn’t the meat of the analysis though, so skipping it won’t be detrimental to any understanding!! It’s rather iffy as to how strong the parallels are

‘Theoretical’ Parallels

Normally, I’d open with an establishment of parallels, but Jonathan is mostly figured to be Mike’s parallel because of the circumstances he’s been placed in and his romantic relationship with Mina. There’s nothing as outright as the parallels between Henry and Dracula or Will and Mina, but the situation that Jonathan is placed into makes no sense for anybody but Mike. The lack of direct canonical parallels is easily overruled by the blatant parallels that can be made to theories that, at this point, are less theories and more a study of very basic storytelling.

For example, look at these images.

The reason Jonathan is visiting Dracula is because Dracula is looking to invest in properties in London, and Jonathan is a realtor working for the Hawkins and Thompkins firm as a replacement for RM Renfield, his teacher who’d gone mad because of Dracula. These moments are from Jonathan getting on the cart to get to Dracula’s castle and Dracula approaching him in greeting. Jonathan has the mark of a target before he even meets Dracula, before Dracula even discovers his photo of Mina (which becomes his primary reason for his hatred of Jonathan).

There are already key elements at play here. Jonathan being a representative of a firm called Hawkins reinforces Mike’s influence over the safety and security of Hawkins. It’s obvious when looking at how successful the defeat of the antagonist each season aligns with Mike’s internal conflicts; as the UD’s attacks gain strength and become harder to control and prevent, Mike’s internal conflicts grow stronger and harder to control. Where we see most characters fluctuating in their mental health status, seeing them grow as people and become stronger even against the struggles of the UD, we don’t really see that with Mike. As the UD gets worse, so does Mike. He doesn’t grow like the other characters because no one gives him the opportunity to do so.

I know an argument can easily be made that the UD is representing Will’s struggles, and both can be true, but Mike is being directly reflected in the status of Hawkins. He’s not a direct victim like Will is, but his struggles correlate with the safety of Hawkins. The end of S3, for example, ends with the meat monster being defeated supposedly, but we later learn that the Mind Flayer was somehow present in Russia. There’s no way for the Russians to have gotten ahold of the Mind Flayer unless they extracted it from the meat monster somehow. In the same way, the end of S3 supposedly resolves Mike’s conflicts with El and Will but we’re given shots that tell us that something is lingering. Mike’s struggles weren’t entirely resolved like they were in the first two seasons. Which, the little piece of the Mind Flayer that existed despite its technical defeat indicates an inactive conflict in Mike, but that’s for another post.

An example that’s very short and to the point is that, when we end S4 we see the complete destruction that occurred in Hawkins as an indirect result of Mike’s lie. There’s multiple meanings here, but one of them is that Mike is probably at the lowest point we’ve ever seen him; “realizing” that he misunderstood Will in the van, being forced back into a relationship with El, feeling like he has to lie to her just to keep her alive. At this point, he makes the actual realization that there’s no one he can really turn to. Not even Will, who insists on his relationship with El.

Long story short, Jonathan being representative of Hawkins correlates with Mike being representative of Hawkins. Where Will is reflected in the status of the supernatural, Mike is reflected in the status of Hawkins.

Alongside this reinforcement, we see him given the status of target before anyone is even aware of it; even Dracula himself. I find this to be similar to the way Mike has the signatures of an ideal victim for Henry before we even know who Henry is. Starting way back in S1, it’s established that Mike is prone to suicidal tendencies and has very deep rooted insecurities. He isn’t isolated then like he is now, but he’s showing signs of being a target long before anyone else. It’s rooted into his character.

This is all before we get into the meat of this post. Even though these parallels aren’t technically canon, they’re so strong they may as well be. Mike isn’t canonically a representation of Hawkins, but the tie is so strong it’s hard to argue against it. Mike isn’t canonically a victim of Henry, but it’s basic story telling that tells us he will be.

The Castle and The Creel House

We have more parallels to establish first. Sorry, but one; it’s interesting and two; I am nothing if not creditable.

As I explained in the first part of this analysis, Henry and Dracula are very much so parallels. In the same way, their homes are parallels too. Not only are they intrinsically attached to these places by grief (Dracula of Elisabeta and Henry of his family (Max directly shows us how grief occurs even for those who hurt you)), but they remain there to gain their strength.

In order for Dracula to maintain his powers, he must sleep in the boxes of his home. This is a direct statement made in the movie;

“Now, all these things Dracula can do, but he is not free. He must rest in the sacred earth of his homeland to gain his evil power.”

Similarly, Henry rests in the Creel house during his attacks to strengthen his powers. The vines he attaches himself to are in the Creel house for a reason, though the necessity of remaining in their homes is different. Dracula’s is physical: he literally has to remain there for his power, as his power is tied to the blood of the castle. Henry’s is mental: those vines could give him strength regardless of his choice of remaining in the attic, but he has a deep attachment to that place of comfort and it likely makes him stronger by virtue of mentality. Henry forms his childhood home in his mind to show us that it’s a mental link. Both Dracula and Henry require their homes to gain their strength regardless.

Dracula’s castle is only a physical place, technically. There is no mindscape home for Dracula like there is for Henry. So how do I know that the parallels are being made between the Creel house in the mindscape and the Castle? Without even getting into the weird gravity of the Castle, there’s an even stronger connection. Dracula isn’t alone in his Castle.

Dracula has 3 brides in his castle. That sound familiar?

In the movie, Dracula technically has four victims. He has his 3 brides and Lucy Westenra, but only the 3 brides live in his castle. I’m sure I don’t have to point out the obvious, but the parallel here is to the three dead victims and Max. Lucy doesn’t have any incredibly strong parallels to Max, but she is a victim and a redhead. We see Lucy experience something similar to the effects of Will’s possession, but Will’s possession and the curse have some similar symptoms. There’s an argument to be made that Lucy is also meant to represent Max as the living victim. I’m gonna offer both interpretations because they both work!!

Either way, it’s important to note the 3 brides. In the actual Creel house, at this point, Henry is alone. In the Creel house in the mindscape, however, there are three other people. Or there are at least three other victims.

The castle also holds a strange relationship with gravity just like the mindscape’s Creel house, albeit the relationship is different. I’ll get into that later!

Entrapment

NOW we get to the fun part. This section is my daring sweetheart, the apple of my eye, the blooming flowers of a plant I have watered for so long. After establishing those parallels, when you consider the way these two pieces interact it creates a very interesting, very exciting, image for anyone who’s looking forward to Mike’s suffering in S5.

Earlier we dropped off after Jonathan meets Dracula, so let’s pick the timeline back up.

After discovering Jonathan’s picture of Mina and recognizing her similarities to Elisabeta, Dracula demands Jonathan stay with him for a month. He will take no refusal, in his words. He has Jonathan write three final letters; one to his firm, one to his family, and one to his fiancé (Mina). These letters are written impersonally, and when Mina later receives this letter she comments on how out of character Jonathan sounds. Dracula has Jonathan stay in one singular room and tells him not to go exploring the rest of the castle as it holds old and bad memories.

So, for starters, Dracula demands Jonathan stay with him. This is Dracula’s attempt at getting Jonathan away from Mina and out of the picture, and he does threaten him, but he doesn’t kill him. He leaves Jonathan alive in the castle, delegating him to one room so he won’t stumble upon old memories. Knowing that the castle is the equivalent of the mindscape, this paints an odd picture.

Obviously this is indicative of the hostage theory, in which Henry won’t actually kill Mike but rather keep him alive for some reason. I’d say this is rather supportive of the premise that Mike tries to make a deal with Henry and it goes badly, seeing as Dracula’s violence towards Jonathan is rather minimal compared to what we see him do later on. He hardly hurts Jonathan, instead keeping him. Jonathan is aware that he’s in danger, but he isn’t sure how or why. He merely witnesses Dracula’s lack of a reflection as his first sign something is seriously wrong. This would translate to Mike bargaining with Henry somehow, only to be forced into Henry’s hands and controlled. At first, Jonathan wasn’t aware that Dracula is a dangerous being: in the same way, I don’t think Mike is going to be aware of Henry’s danger at first, but lured into a place in which Henry can capture him. How this happens is undemonstrated by the film, but based on other evidence supporting the hostage theory, there are heavy signs of Eddie’s corpse being used as a lure.

Even more, we’d see Henry try and lock Mike in a specific part of his mind. I imagine this is the equivalent of showing Mike his own grief and memories and those things Dracula tells Jonathan to avoid (old and bad memories) would be equivocal to Mike pushing into Henry’s mind even further than what we saw with Max. If they’re inside Henry’s mind, there’s no way the only piece of him present is the broken Creel house. There are memories inside of him, things he omissed in his monologues.

Alongside this, we have the 3 letters; the firm, the family, the fiancé. This is interesting for multiple reasons!! If this were to be directly translated to the show, we’d be seeing a message sent to Hawkins, the Wheelers, and Will. This could happen if Mike were to somehow make contact with the outside world somehow, but there is a much more likely possibility here. The thing about the letters is the only one of them actually plays a role in the story: the letter to Mina. Her letter is the only one we read, and it’s the one sign we get to the outside world that something is wrong with Jonathan. There’s concern to be had because of that letter, and it raises Mina’s suspicion despite Jonathan assuring her of his safety in the letter.

On one hand, this could play into lettergate if the letter Mike wrote to Will holds cause for concern, but that doesn’t really hold indication for where Mike is and that he should be worried beyond thinking about what Mike’s mental state was. An important part of the hostage theory is that Mike is perceived as dead and people give up looking for him. If people are aware Mike is alive, they wouldn’t stop searching for him until they found him. It’s important that people think he’s dead, but the letter is supposedly to be the trigger for concern. If this is meant to play into lettergate, I’m not really sure how that would work because it doesn’t provide the concern as the letter would be given before Mike’s ‘death’. Or, at least, it would be obvious he wrote it before he died, so there’s no reason to worry about his safety status.

On the other hand, this could be a sign that Mike somehow communicates with the outside world. I have no clue how he would manage it, but it definitely isn’t impossible. If he can discover alternate dimensions and gain deep understanding of how supernatural creatures function under high stress situations with only about a week to figure things out, I imagine having years to study Henry’s mind would lead to him somehow gathering the knowledge to communicate. If Max is there, she could also be his way out.

Personally I think that, no matter what, Mike and Max are going to reveal the other’s being alive. If they rescue Mike first, then he’ll be able to reveal that Max’s consciousness is trapped inside Henry’s. If they wake Max first, she could do the same for him.

In this scenario, it would be Will receiving the message first and foremost. There’s also the possibility that this could be foreshadowing the role reversal, in which Will is the only one who never gives up on Mike. Even after years, he’d be the one holding onto hope that Mike is out there.

There are a lot of possibilities when it comes to the three letters, but that isn’t the only thing Jonathan writes. On May 30th, Jonathan writes in his journal;

“I think strange things which I dare not confess to my own soul. The Count… The way he looked at Mina’s picture fills me with dread, as if I have a part to play in a story that is not known to me.”

This is written the same day as the events I talked about previously, where Dracula warns him not to leave and such.

“I think strange things I dare not confess to my own soul.” The most Mike Wheeler sentence ever written in the entire world. This would mostly pertain to Mike’s only mental status, likely regarding the visions he’s forced to endure under Henry’s control as well.

The second sentence is intriguing because Jonathan specifies himself as having a role to play in a story he has not been told. His concern is for Mina, and very rightfully so, and that already aligns with canon as Mike already expresses concern for the way Henry treats Will. That makes sense. It’s odd that he’s curious as to his own role rather than Mina’s, seeing as he doesn’t know why Dracula is fascinated with Mina either.

The story, by implication, is the story of Elisabeta and Dracula’s love. Jonathan is unaware of this story at the moment, but he feels as though he has a part to play. The thing is, he’s right! Mina and Jonathan’s story is somewhat of a modern version of Elisabeta and Dracula’s. I touched on this in the first part of this analysis, but I wanna bring your attention back to the fact that Elisabeta and Mina aren’t parallels. There’s nothing to indicate that Mina and Elisabeta are alike story-wise other than their looks. Jonathan is the one who parallels Elisabeta. Despite Mina being Dracula’s love interest, she is not the Elisabeta in this modern story; Jonathan is.

I’ve explained before that Peter is meant to be the Elisabeta of this story, and that the 5 Peter’s tell us that Will looks like Peter, but Will himself is paralleled to Henry despite the interest Henry has taken in him. In the same way, Mike is the actual parallel to Peter. In everything but looks, Mike fills the role of being Will’s Peter. Both Peter and Mike have predictive tendencies, both are the ones showing the utmost kindness and love to their respective lovers (Will and Henry), and they both potentially have matching suicidal tendencies. Peter may have actually killed himself.

In the same fashion that locking Jonathan in the castle is meant to create an opportunity for Dracula to go after Mina, Henry locking Mike in a trance creates an opportunity for him to go after Will. From all the different perspectives that’ll be shared of the knowledge they have of Henry, as well as Mike possibly peering into Henry’s memories, I don’t find it to be too much of a stretch that he realizes there is more to Henry’s story and that somehow he’s become part of Henry’s plan. Mike’s inferiority complex may be overruled by his logic, determine that there’s a reason he was chosen and that it lies somewhere in the story he doesn’t know. Maybe. Just food for thought.

Anyway,

Eventually Dracula leaves the castle and goes to sleep in his boxes (which he needs to maintain his dark power) and Jonathan explores the castle. As he goes lower, he comes across rooms in which we start to see the distorted gravity. There are rats on the ceiling and odd liquids that drip upside down, but Jonathan is unaffected by this shift in gravity.

Taking another pause here because I wanna look at two other instances of gravitational distortion in the show, because this moment is combining them when we apply the parallels.

1. The Creel house in the mindscape. Gravity clearly is not normal there, as we see bits of the house floating all over the place.

2. There’s a poster in Mike’s room called ‘Relativity’.

The BYU Museum of Art describes it as such:

In one of Escher's most beloved, most copied, and most parodied images, a series of staircases crisscross in a labyrinth-like interior. At first, the staircases seem to occupy a believable illusionistic space, but upon closer inspection viewers realize that they meet each other at impossible angles. In fact, the shape defined by the three main staircases is a famous 'impossible shape' called a Penrose triangle. What makes this print so mesmerizing is how Escher takes that geometric curiosity as a starting point to create not only one impossible shape but a completely impossible world with multiple simultaneous orientations of gravity. He has not only imaged what the inside of such an unusual building would look like, but has also provided glimpses of an idyllic outside world through the archways at the top of each stairway. Every way is up in this charming world, but so too every way is down as is always the case with Escher, 'reality' changes completely, depending on how you look at it.

The description of, “…multiple simultaneous orientations of gravity,” much more aligns with what we see in Castle Dracula, as Jonathan exists within the same spaces as the rats and the liquid, yet they experience different pulls of gravity.

The stairs and the archway don’t apply at the castle. This set up does exists, however, in the mindscape!

The archway and the stars aren’t perfectly connected, but the way it’s set up gives the illusion of connection, creating cohesion where there technically isn’t any. It’s not just the fact that the set up is present, though. When Nancy finally makes her way to the lair, she stands at the top of the stairs. The illusion presents itself in a way that you could imagine her having come through that archway and coming into the lair, thus aligning with the description of an idyllic world being beyond the arch.

The drawing connects directly to both the castle and the mindscape, but there’s also a connection to all three of these characters (Mike, Dracula, and Henry) in that last line. Reality changes completely based on how you observe the drawing. In a very similar manner, all three of these characters’ stories are different based on perspective. Henry’s is very blatant, as the differing perspectives are literally how his story is told. With Dracula, he comes off as creepy and obsessive for no reason until Mina’s perspective is shifted by gaining Elisabeta’s memories. As for Mike, our perspective of him is hidden entirely because if we were to look at him from a different angle we would have an entirely different story than what was shown on screen.

This take of perspective is important and a heavy indicator, once again, that Mike is going to the mindscape. It also provides the unique tie of unstable gravity, which could come into play during Mike’s time in the mindscape, seeing as gravitational pull is how they located the original gate in the first place.

ALSO, another little note, is that the rats on the metal is very reminiscent of the rats in the Iron Works building from S3. It’s possible we’ll see memories from Henry telling us that he was behind all of it, in a very direct manner that cannot be ignored. Or this is simply a cool coincidence or intentional reference on the Duffers’ part!

———————————————————————

After Jonathan’s exploration begins, he starts to hear the call of a woman. He follows her voice behind a curtain and it reveals a large, empty bed where he’s encouraged to lay. Once he lays there, one of Dracula’s brides appears from under the covers and begins seducing him. As this continues, the two other brides join her. This is done so they can lure him into weakness and security, which allows them to feed on him. Before they can do so, Dracula returns with a baby and stops them, claiming that Jonathan belongs to him. In exchange, he offers his brides the baby to feed on.

And we’re back with the sexual assault! I hate it here. Again, the nature of attack by vampires in this movie is done sexually as the weakness and vulnerability of the victim is necessary for the attack. It is odd that the brides are the one doing this, not in the movie but in terms of the parallels. The brides are representative of the dead victims of Henry already, and Henry’s victims don’t become like him. This scene is a bit of an odd man out, and I’m not sure if we’ll see this specific part translated into the show. If we do, it’ll most likely appear very differently than this seeing as they couldn’t utilize Henry’s victims. To go the route of distraction and vulnerability by lust, we’d most likely get a scene with Will or someone else he finds attractive. Possibly Eddie, and that would feed in the predatory nature of Henry’s attacks because of the age difference. I’m not sure if they’d be that blatant with it though, seeing at the assault rarely appears beyond allegories, and when it does become subtextual we still don’t see the most normalized version of assault. I’m sitting on the fence post with this scene.

The claim that Jonathan belongs to Dracula, by Dracula, is also kinda unfitting. I don’t really see this being translated into the show unless it’s used as a taunt towards Will and/or El, which I could see happening. It doesn’t necessarily align with the movie, but that line could make a comeback. I don’t expect the parallels to be 1:1 in S5, so if they were to brush over this I wouldn’t be too surprised.

———————————————————————

Once Dracula finally leaves for England in search of Mina (after turning Lucy), he leaves Mike with his brides who keep him weak by feeding off his blood. He hardly has the strength to escape due to this, but he creates a plan. He uses the odd gravity to his advantage and eventually makes his way to the same window Elisabeta jumped out of to kill herself. Unlike her, Jonathan survives and makes a break for a nearby covenant which takes care of him.

My absolute favorite part of all this is that this movie is very directly supporting the things I’ve been saying about how Henry will likely drain the life from Mike to heal himself and keep Mike weak!! In the mindscape, Mike will simultaneously be losing his life force as it’s drained from him. Although the brides are the ones doing this in film, it only really makes sense for this to be done by Henry in the show. I have close to zero doubts that this’ll happen.

Also!!! Comeback of plan guy Mike being an incredibly strong person. This ties into what I had been theorizing with the Overkill-DND Board theory as well — that Mike’s trance will end once he returns to the cliff. In my opinion, it’s approaching this cliff and the choice not to jump as a portal opens that will play out to show Mike’s suicidiality but that he prioritizes his friends over his own wants. Jonathan jumps to save/return to Mina, as he has learned things about Dracula which can be used against him to finally end his terror. It’s how he parallels Elisabeta, as she jumped to return to Dracula (who she was led to believe died). Mike fulfills this parallel in S1, but his return to the cliff is highly supported. It’s the act of jumping that I doubt will occur again. He’s going to return to Will with newly acquired knowledge that may help, as is his typical role in the story. The leader.

Jonathan figures out how to prevent Dracula from continuing to draw his evil power. Seems pretty much up Mike’s alley.

Jonathan’s story doesn’t end here, but this analysis does. The other aspects of Jonathan that need to be discussed will come in a later part which goes into detail about Dracula’s death.

#JONATHAN HARKER I LOOOOOOOVE YOUUUUUUUU #anyway #if you’re noticing a pattern of threes. Good #big 3 moment #dracula parallels #mike wheeler #mike analysis #tw csa mention

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lipstickchainsaw · 2 years

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Belanger/Bristow

Oh wow, we're starting off strong, huh?

Anyway, the vibes here are really rancid. Just absolutely awful.

Alexander Belanger is ambitious to a fault, to the point where a personification of the red string, a woman basically designing herself to be his perfect partner (in order to eat him) didn't manage to divert him from his ambitions. He is very much full of himself, and exactly good enough to live up to his high opinion of himself. Alexander believes himself to be the competent one in any and all situations, and he does not play second fiddle to anyone. He is a genuinely good teacher, and his passion for the practice is also very much sincere, which means he takes an active part in his own plots and plans, and he uses the people around him as assistants, more than anything. They're there to enable him, and he respects them only to the point where they can do so, and he's perfectly willing to condemn them to a fate worse than death if they fail to fill this purpose. On top of this, he is entirely unwilling to accept that he's lost at something, about ready to unleash a local apocalypse on the Netherlands just to take back what he lost (which doesn't win him any points with me).

All in all, not the kind of man suited to any kind of genuine relationship.

Lawrence Bristow is a pompous, self-absorbed asshat, whose sincere feeling of self-importance was enough to resist a god's influence. He collects people, titles, and just about anything else he can get his hands on that makes him look more respectable. He builds up his own importance by dominating the room with endless, prattling stories about all the fancy stuff he's been involved in. And he has been 'involved' in a lot. Bristow's a networker like nothing else, and he's very good at bringing people in contact with each other. That is, however, all he does, because this man prides himself in doing as little as possible himself (he is, after all, a landlord). The people he collects around him are his agents, his tools to exert his influence on the world around him, but he isn't the type to get his hands dirty himself. He's got ideas about building systems, but they are, much like everything else, purely vessels for self-aggrandisement. His pride doesn't allow himself to even consider building something he would not be in charge of.

This man is extremely domineering, but not even in any interesting way. He is so fundamentally self-absorbed that any partner will be left unsatisfied.

You put these two people together and you get a conflict of dominance, in which neither is at all willing to let the other take any kind of charge. You know, like what happened in canon.

Now, this could be an interesting dynamic, in a 'sworn rivals' kind of way, where they constantly strive to outdo one another, but fundamentally, they don't respect each other enough for it. They both think the other is a small-minded little shit building sand-castles in the playground while they are the true Great Man leading practitioner society forward into its new age, and it makes their rivalry petty and pathetic.

I figure they had more going during that period where Alexander pretended to be friends with Bristow, a man he seriously disliked, even going so far as to neglect other friendships just so he could honestly say Bristow was his best friend, all in order to screw him over.

A 'screwing over' that included having a woman seduce him so he could get his hands on Bristow's semen sample, because Bristow sweats entirely too much for that part of 'blood, sweat, and tears' to be worth anything.

Now that's the kind of betrayal sagas are written about, and Bristow's hatred for the man makes perfect sense with this in mind, and had we seen them in this period of their lives, I likely would've given them a higher rating, but as it stands:

E: I don’t really like it

#ask game #wildbow #parahumans #pale #alexander belanger #lawrence bristow #this got way longer than it was in my head

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sytokun · 2 years

Note

So, I have a question I hope that isn't too much of a problem. How do you feel about Salem as a villain? Her character, her plans, and motivations and what the current Volumes have utilized her, how do you feel about what they do with her as a villain?

On paper, I don't have problems with Salem.

Since the beginning of the show, the Grimm are framed as this mysterious, endgame villain that the cast needs to deal with. There were two major ways they could have gone with this and honestly I wouldn't mind either:

They are a force of nature and cannot be resolved easily, just adapted to and lessen their deadly influence over the world

They have a source/leader who leads or coordinates them, and defeating them significantly reduces the Grimm's influence on the world.

Both can be interesting, and both can flow well with RWBY's themes if executed well. We know canon went with the latter, so that's the baseline we'll go with. Back when Salem was revealed in V3, many fans speculated she was a hyper-evolved Grimm that has lived for so long she gained human intelligence.

Now I used to be iffy on this back when this theory was trending, but over time I grew to like the idea, and thought it would have been a really cool way to frame Salem - she is the ultimate result of the arms race between the Hunters and Grimm, locked in an eternal battle to outpace each other. If Salem wasn't stopped, she would destroy everything. But you had to do it right. You had to somehow make it permanent and that the Grimm could never evolve down this path again.

Because if you don't properly deal with what is essentially the equivalent of the Grimm singularity, you've gotten rid of one problem. But the thing that comes after Salem will learn all of her failures, and then the world will be faced with a being that's even worse.

This idea, if you discount Salem's backstory and relation to Ozpin, and observe more her general vibe and tactics, can match pretty decently. Salem gives the vibe of a threat that is always watching and observing, growing in strength and influence. She's a very archetypal villain type: she's like the serpent in the garden, or Sauron from the shadowed corners of Middle Earth.

And clearly, she has a beef with Ozpin too, so that's a constant. Everyone latched onto Oz's "I've made more mistakes than any man, woman or child" line for a reason - it tips off he may be responsible for some really bad shit; he may be the reason for all of it, and has spent all his lifetimes trying to fix them. It's not farfetched to believe the Grimm and Salem are a result of that - his darkest moment.

Now we're getting into the specifics, and that's where I don't really vibe well with the route canon has committed to: the angry ex-wife thing.

Now, I still think Salem being originally human and not an evolved Grimm is fine too. It's basically like Kerrigan from Starcraft - she's the Queen of the Grimm. I don't even mind her being a former lover - I've had discussions with a friend from my server and there's a lot of potential there if you present it a certain way:

While it does seem weird that the fate of the whole world lies on a single relationship between two people - RWBY is technically a very personal story. It's about individuals, about self-expression and the soul. So having the main conflict be focused around a human experience that becomes corrupted can still work - it's a very Star Wars approach to it: the entire film saga is centered around the Skywalkers.

It's likely that both of them, while deeply in love, had different ideas about immortality, about how the world to be, and they were the only two people powerful enough to put those ideals into action, so they came to blows, causing the landslide that created Remnant as we know it.

So really, there is a lot you can do with Salem if you applied yourself to it. But what we got is a vaguely diet Sauron-ish figure sitting in a creepy castle, like we're in a nondescript cookie-cutter JRPG setting.

Some of Salem's scenes do hit well, and I can only really credit the artists and Jen Taylor's solid performance for that, particularly scenes of her exuding a serene and otherworldly, yet intimate and almost motherly presence, like a whisper given form. More a voice than a person, more a presence than a form.

This was the Salem I think could have worked best with canon RWBY if they had stuck to it. Keep her a largely formless being whose mere voice compels madness and ruin, whose invisible hand has moved the pieces towards a single end.

It sort of reminded me of the one Mephala quest from Skyrim, an unassuming, dark voice beckoning from behind a humble, wooden door tucked in a corner most would overlook until one wanders too near, or rather... seeks it out. Another mentioned Xal'atath from WoW, who is an ancient evil bound in a weapon. All three performances sound incredibly similar too.

youtube

I sort of like the idea of Salem leaning more into this trope than the fully physical being we see in the show. Have her start out as this ancient influence, whispering in the ears of Hunters promising power, perhaps bestowing weapons cursed with Grimm-like energy that slowly eats away at them. Hey look, cursed weapons, almost like weapons are an important and recognisable aspect of RWBY, and the idea of an ancient evil possessing your rocket-powered katana assault rifle instead of just a sword or dagger would have been a novel take on this familiar trope.

Have her gain power and influence throughout the series, and if you ever feel like making your pale-faced dark lord mommy character to hit your arbitrary waifu quota, you can just justify it as "she's powerful enough to enter the material plane now" and call it done.

I think it's the things Salem creates that should evoke more physical fear. The weapons she's made. The progressively stronger, more vile abominations she can turn Grimm into. The way she can tug a few strings and turn entire nations against each other. Salem doesn't need to appear as more than a very well-performed voice and a wisp of black smoke or a glowing red eye to be scary. Her works can speak more to her power than any fight scene or rainbow beams from her hand possibly can.

Because maybe, Salem is someone you just can't fight. She's not a problem you can solve with violence, but instead of an immortal, super-powerful mage who realistically should have killed Remnant ten times over yet chooses not to, she has a reason to need pawns. Her influence is strong, but she needs vessels to carry out her will, i.e. Grimm and people like Cinder. Why play a game of chess with Ozpin for thousands of years when you could have just flipped the board over any time you wanted? When the only canonical inconvenience was waiting 20 minutes to an hour to regenerate, good as new?

At least with this depowered, more subtle portrayal of Salem, she still had to play by the rules. She still had to be the Black Queen the show loves to symbolise her as. But really, given enough time, Salem will no longer just be the Black Queen. She'll be the whole board. Playing Ozpin's own pieces against him. Adding pieces to herself. Expanding the playing field so she covers everything.

And she'll do all of this one well-placed turn at a time. To me, that sounds more like the kind of game an immortal would play. Not... bringing six or seven dudes to your moonlit villa (most of whom died either betraying you or being betrayed by the same group members), sitting on your throne for the past few centuries when you could have made a few giant whales in advance, marched into each Kingdom at any time and wiped out all opposition through sheer overwhelming brute force alone.

Canon Salem is mishandled in canon because she had all the power, time and Grimm to take the Relics the boring, straightforward way, but thinks she's too cunning and smart to resort to that, so she just... does it the hard, inefficient way instead, because that's what real, mastermind dark lord characters are supposed to do.

#syto asks #rwby #rwby salem

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humanpurposes · 7 months

Text

(Teaser) It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/n: I feel bad that it's been forever since this series had an update, and I'm just feeling silly today so I thought I'd share a lil something of what I've been working on (to hopefully motivate me to finish the chapter lmao).

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the ancient stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity.

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at his laptop and they check over some details for next week’s event.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planninging this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to every individual and family in Westeros who thinks they are even slightly important that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens.

There can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

His eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan in the main ballroom. Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease, and he has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it: a glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in the office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and grab some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move.

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again?

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

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skyward-floored · 2 years

Text

Four Swords Adventures - oneshot

Crossposted from ao3 :) This one has mostly influence from the manga, but it’s supposed to be able to fit into the game too. Anyways poor Link is not dealing well with aftereffects of using a magic sword for several months.

Ao3

————————————————————

Zelda poked her head into the library, sighing as she finally found the object of her morning-long search.

Link sat at one of the smaller tables by a window, an open book in front of him he wasn’t paying attention to. His gaze was on the drizzly clouds outside, and there was a weird look on his face. When Zelda came up to his side he didn’t even seem to notice her, merely continued to stare almost blankly at the rain.

“Link?”

He startled and whipped around towards her, eyes wobbling with color.

Ever since Link had returned the Four Sword to its resting place, his irises had no longer been solid blue like they’d been before he pulled the blade. The left one was half blue still, but had red painting the other side, and his right eye was half-green half-violet. The colors never mixed, but moved around a lot, swirling and rippling like the water in the castle moat.

Zelda thought they were beautiful, even if they were a physical reminder of the trouble Link had had ever since returning the sword.

Trouble he’d been exhibiting more and more as of late.

Which is why Zelda had been looking for him, and why she was pleased to have finally located her missing hero after searching for him all morning.

They needed to talk.

“Oh. Hi Zelda,” Link said, closing the book in front of him. Something about shadows and light. “Did you need me?”

Zelda hesitated. “Sort of. I was surprised to find you here, I thought your father had you helping with that training exercise thing today?”

The blue in Link’s eye increased a bit.

“I was. Father gave me the day off.”

He looked back out the window, and Zelda sat down across from him, wincing as her chair squeaked when she scooted it in.

“Your father doesn’t usually give you days off without reason,” she commented gently, “are you feeling okay?”

Link nodded his head. “Yes. I mean, I was...”

He cleared his throat, and the violet increased. “...I wasn’t able to perform my duties to the length I needed to and he thought it best for me to rest instead of impede progress.”

Zelda frowned again. “Did he really say that?”

The blue came back.

“No but he meant it. I could see it in his eyes, he just wants me out of the way so I won’t mess anything up,” Link muttered, and Zelda eyed him, watching as the blue was pushed back as the red opposite it tried to make headway.

He sighed.

“But I don’t know for sure,” Link continued, slumping a little, “it sounded like he meant it that way though, but Father wouldn’t do that, would he?“

Zelda dredged up a smile for him, trying not to act too concerned. Link seemed particularly... unsteady today.

“No, he wouldn’t. I think he’s just worried about you Link,” she said gently. “We all are.”

Link shrugged, the violet coming back, and looked down at the floor.

It had been barely a month since everything with Vaati and Shadow and Ganon. Zelda didn’t usually wake up in the middle of the night too much anymore, (even if she still kept a light on as she slept) but Link had been affected much more differently than she had.

He may have been one person again, but his emotions were still a bit... split, swinging one way and then the other, his eyes sloshing with color. They’d been gradually getting worse as time went on, an extra stern voice here, a snarky comment when it was inappropriate there. Just a few days ago he’d gone from openly sobbing to blank indifference within the space of a few seconds when he’d stubbed his toe.

And Zelda knew it was troubling him more then he let on.

“Link?” she asked gently.

Her hero kept staring at the ground, his eyes flickering a bit.

“Link.”

He continued to stare at the floor.

“Link!”

The hero seated across from her startled, pulling his gaze from the ground up to her face.

“Are you all right? You’re not... did you even hear me?” she asked, concern welling back up in her when Link didn’t immediately reply. He blinked once, then after a minute nodded, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Yes Zelda, I’m fine. My apologies,” he said, the purple in his one eye wavering over the green.

Zelda gave him a look. Enough was enough.

“I called you three times before you answered Link,” she accused, leaning over the table at him. “And you’ve been avoiding me, and all the knights of Hyrule, and barely been eating too. I’ve seen you at dinner, you’re not okay. That’s why your father keeps giving you days off and why I was looking for you and why we’ve both been keeping an extra eye on you, everyone has. You’re not okay.”

She squinted at him, arms crossed. “And you haven’t been for a while.”

Link stared at her, looking like he was about to protest.

Then he obviously reconsidered, drooping in his seat. The purple in his eye wavered, and Zelda watched in interest as the green won out again, almost completely obscuring the violet.

He suddenly groaned, burying his head in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Link murmured.

Zelda patted his wrist, a worried look on her face. “Link you don’t need to apologize, I know it’s not—“

“It’s just so frustrating!” Link suddenly yelled, making her jump as he lifted his head up. “I never know what to feel anymore! My emotions are all over the place my memories are in four, I can’t pick what color clothes to wear and it’s like I have to shuffle through twenty different emotions before I can do anything, it’s so stupid and I hate it!”

Zelda kept her hand on his arm and met his eyes, still sloshing with color.

Link glared at her, then his eyes suddenly filled with tears and he let his head fall to the table again, sniffling as he dropped his gaze.

“I’m sorry Zelda,” he said thickly. “I know you’re busy, and I’m sorry you had to come find me. And that you have to deal with me when I’m such a wreck because I know you have your own stuff you’re dealing with and you’re busy and now I’m yelling at you and—“

He cut off into a hiccup, and Zelda marched herself around the table and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s okay Link,” she repeated, and he looked up at her in surprise, cheeks damp. “You’ve yelled at me plenty of times before, this is nothing new. Leftover magic like this is tricky, you’ll get better at managing it.”

“B-but what if I don’t?” he sobbed, the red in his one eye almost completely obscuring the blue. “There’s already rumors going around about how my quest m-made me crazy, what if they— they’re right? I can barely do anything anymore without o-offending someone! I can’t even just hang out w-with you without yelling! It’d just be easier for everyone to stop trying to deal with me!” he wailed, and Zelda squeezed him tighter.

“Stop talking like that Link, like it or not we’re not leaving you, I’m not leaving you. Some mood swings are hardly enough to make me leave my best friend, no less ridiculous rumors,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’d never leave you to deal with something like that alone, nobody decent would.”

She smiled at him, pulling back just a bit so she could see his face, red still the brightest color in his eye.

“We can get through this okay? And even if it doesn’t ever get better, even if it gets worse, I’m not just going to leave you. And neither is your father. We love you Link, and emotional problems don’t change that.”

Link’s tears didn’t slow, but the red in his eye receded a bit, the other colors slowly flowing back into less frantic swirls.

“But what if it does get worse?” he whispered, sounding afraid of the answer.

Zelda clasped his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Then we’ll make it work. I already told you I’m your best friend and I’m not going to leave you over this. And I will say it as many times as it takes to get it through your thick skull.”

Link sniffled and nodded, his tears finally beginning to slow.

“Okay,” he said after a minute, voice thick. “Thank you Zelda.”

She hugged him again before pulling back, seeing how the colors in his eyes seemed to have evened out and were no longer wobbling around uncertainly.

They were calm, like the surface of a still lake.

Zelda smiled to herself, giving Link’s hand that was still in her own a happy squeeze. They sat there in silence for a bit as Link’s tears gradually dried, ignoring the looks the librarian at the desk kept sending them from across the room.

“Soooo,” Zelda asked, breaking the silence. “That big oak in front of the castle hasn’t been climbed in a while. Since you’ve got the day off, would you like to go for a climb?”

“You know it’s raining, right?” Link replied, voice still a little stuffy sounding. “We’ll get all wet.”

Zelda grinned at him.

“Since when did that stop us?”

Link returned her smile and wiped the last of the tears from his eyes as he stood up. “That’s true. Damp tree climbing it is.”

Zelda let out a laugh, and they left the library together, hands still clasped.

#legend of zelda #four swords #four swords manga #four swords adventures #loz fsa #loz fic #legend of zelda fanfiction #courage of ages #coa Light #zelink #but can be read as platonic #writing from the floor #I like playing around with mental effects of the four sword in different ways than are usually done

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unbrckens · 8 months

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* introducing !

࣪𓏲ּ ֶָ 𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗 ⁝ meltem akçöl, 24, cis woman, she/her. announcing the arrival of AYLIN of house MARTELL, the PRINCESS of DORNE. whispers among the court name them to be both GREGARIOUS and AIRY in disposition, and those closest to them speak to their interests in music. if we bards could compose a song for them, it might tell stories of an infectious laugh funnier than the joke told ; mischievousness poorly concealed behind innocent demeanor ; life is nothing but an adventure, for the ugly parts are kept away from her eyes ; early mornings and the sweet taste of strongwine still lingering ; a walk as quiet as a cat's as she sneaks back into the castle ; pages torn from books ; bad decisions born out of boredom ; soft silk and a sea of jewels. the seven whisper to their most devout queen as she sleeps, making her question where their loyalties truly lie. are they right to whisper? for their loyalties truly lie with HOUSE MARTELL.

the youngest of prince doran and princess carynne's children, aylin got everything served to her on a silver platter from the moment she was born. one would say her busy parents felt guilt for the little attention they could give her, so instead they showered her with gifts and turned a blind eye to her wrongdoings.

curious with a hint of rebellious in disposure & starved for any sort of attention the princess would often get herself into trouble, but the most she'd earn was a slap on the wrist. eventually she did stop trying, deciding to embrace the so found freedom, thinking of herself as the master of sneaking around when truly, no one was keeping a watchful eye on her anyways.

personality wise, aylin is amiable and very easy to get along with, but she is also entitled and inconsiderable for she will get both you and herself into trouble, and while there will be little to none consequences for her, the other is left to fend for themselves. so she's very much an act first, think later type of person, if she even thinks at all.

her friendliness can border manipulative at times, as most of her connections aren't as intimate as they might feel. she's good at faking deepness & genuinity ( whether intentionally or not ) when it's all surface level deep to her at the end of the day.

very easily distractible, her mind is all over the place. she cannot stand the feeling of boredom so she's always looking for the next best thing to entertain herself with.

she's well aware of the upcoming storm in the martell family ; there's the calm before the storm at the moment. her siblings, she genuinely cares for, but this one issue, aylin cannot fix and her efforts bear fruitless.

wanted: partner in crime ( both in dorne and king's landing, someone always down for trouble & to make a bad idea even worse, they bring out the worst in each other ) ; childhood friend ( someone she grew up with, the person who knows her best besides her siblings ) ; past flings ( short-lived, nothing too serious as the princess eventually moved on to the next best thing ) ; enemies ( people she's hurt due to her carelessness and she doesn't even realize why it's so serious or people who have hurt her. or they just have beef with her siblings and her by extention ) ; good influence ( someone more responsible who helps keep her grounded )

#westeros.intro #these intros will be just a bulletpoint random mess for now <3

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literary-illuminati · 2 years

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Book Review 9 - Forge of Darkness by Steven Erikson

Okay, after roughly a decade of nagging and peer pressure from a friend who adores the series (and has the terrible curse of often recommending stuff I end up loving in the least appealing-to-me ways possible), I finally broke and agreed to read some Malazan. But a ten-book series of thousand page tomes was still too much, so, the prequels trilogy! Or the first volume of it, anyway.

So, this was a, as they say, real fantasy chonker. Nine hundred pages, like literally over a dozen POVs, unexplained but extremely detailed magic systems and worldbuilding and so. Many. Proper. Nouns. Being a prequel, it’s also literally set before humans existed, as far as I can tell – the main caste is all what were described to me as the setting’s elves (well, the overwhelmingly majority of them, anyway). Also, 900 pages long. Which is just too long for a single book, I think.

Anyways, given all that, surprisingly readable? Not necessarily objectively – it was absolutely a slog at times – but compared to what you might expect from a story that expects you to pick up the meaning and significance of every bit of jargon by use and context and will loop back to any given POV every hundred pages or so, if you’re lucky. You could fit the number of names I remember on one hand, but the book does a good job of giving you enough context and providing enough little reminders that I could remember who any given POV/what any given plot thread was within a paragraph or two of being dumped back into it, anyway. (Except Ursander’s captains. Like, I know they got characterizations but relying on social rank and narrative role to tell people apart really failed on the five different ones running around doing genocide or atrocity to start a civil war).

Plot wise it’s an awkward but interesting halfway point between brutal gritty realpolitik and mythic epic fantasy? Like, the better part of the plot in concerned with aristocratic decadence and Machiavellian scheming and a seemingly inevitable slide toward civil war and all that, but also the only reason any of that could happen is because the guy who could probably fight every army involved singlehandedly was out of town that month trying to do some father-son bonding/accidentally sponsoring a demigod who invented blood magic and human sacrifice to complete his commission of a present for his girlfriend. Or the careful diplomacy around noble hostage-taking being almost derailed because there are three kids who are just actually immortal demons and decided to kill everyone in the castle and go on a trip. The two tones interact in interesting ways at points, and lead to some real tonal dissonance at others.

There is some thematic purpose to that, I think – there’s absolutely a recurring motif of people with power and influence refusing to use it, and ostensible subordinates acting in their name running around and making everything worse in ways they did not understand or approve of while they sat around. From one lens the whole book is one long warning about the horror of delegated authority. Or even broader than that – the distance between someone’s reputation or how they’re regarded, what they think their reputation is, and who they actually are comes up a lot. So much angst and miscommunication.

Beyond that, the best way to describe the plot is ‘three different standard epic fantasy pseudo-chosen one plots happening independently and possibly mutually exclusively, and also a bunch of different views of a pretty fucked society sliding into complete bloody anarchy and religious genocide.’

Character-wise – well, the downside of having so many POVs is that even when there is enough wordcount to actually give several of them real depth and development, it’s incredibly easy to miss it. So it’s utterly possible that there was tons of subtle and nuanced character work I totally failed to notice, but as far as my actual reading experience went most of the arcs were fairly broad and obvious, and focused on the really larger than life operatic characters. (Though as far as somewhat generic fantasy stories go, Korya and Haut are the best and I won’t be accepting disagreement on this.)

Like I’m fairly sure every big fantasy chonker in existence, the book’s ever so slightly Weird about sex. Also one rather extreme (and plot-critical) bit of on-screen sexual violence, though that’s thankfully not the bit the book’s weird about.

The setting was interesting, though buried under so much jargon and proper nouns that it took a fair bit of page count before you begin to understand absolutely any of it. Still, the sea of chaos and the savanna of razor-sharp grass were both really vividly described, even if there’s no chance in hell that I could tell you what their names were.

I really did enjoy the book, on the whole, but it was also kind of an exhausting read? The whole book’s got the whole pseudo-archaic tone and vocabulary you expect from map fantasy, which did help sell it but also do make reading it a bit more of a slog.

Overall, I mean, does ‘extra-worldbuilding heavy prequel set in the lost mythic age of an already famously and world-building heavy fantasy world’ appeal to you? Because if so this book absolutely lives up to expectations. But I’m not going to read anything over 500 pages for a solid bit now, I think.

#book review #Forge of Darkness #Steven Erikson #Malazan #sff

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lukedanger · 9 months

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Wasn't able to complete the first chapter in time, but since today is the solstice, a little preview of something I'm working on for Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous fanfic.

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The winter night was cold, snow falling gently, but Arueshalae paid it no mind. Even without her innate resistance to such as a demon, she was focused on the woman sitting across from her. She needed to make this right.

“I deflected her skeptical questioning darts,” Arueshalae began, hoping she had the tone right, “with armor made of purest devotion / purged in the forge of my heart / from the slag of any baser emotion…”

“‘The Storming of the Castle of Love’?” the other woman asked, an amused smirk crossing her face. “Do you see me as that much of a ‘civilizing’ influence?”

“Perhaps,” Arueshalae answered as she smiled. “Courtly love was your idea, Elaina.”

The paladin’s smirk shifted into a smile as she put a hand out on the table. Arueshalae hesitated - they were both wearing gloves, but her touch could still go through. What if… just close, no touching, she told herself, setting her own hand down nearby but not touching.

“Actually, I asked Sosiel,” the demon admitted, almost stammering as she explained. “He gave me a whole book. Not Shelyn’s text, poems from across Avistan. I read through trying to find one that fit, then managed to hear it at the Half Measure…”

Elaina interrupted her there. “It’s okay, Arueshalae - you did it right. The idea is to get a discussion going, on something we’re both on even ground about.”

“Right, right.” The idea of rules to love still seemed weird to her, at most charitable, but Sosiel was confident when she had managed to muster up enough courage to ask him for help. “You have Heaven’s light, the light of a plane where duty and goodness are in equal measure. Everything the Abyss is not. How can I not look at you and see virtues to tame these horrid desires?”

“Not all of them are horrid.”

“No, not all,” Arueshalae admitted as she dared reach for Elaina’s fingers. Even through the gloves, she could feel the life - the soul - so full of light and growing power.

And she was beautiful to the eyes as well as to the touch - a woman with gray eyes and her light brown hair combed back to stay out of her face, falling just past her shoulders. Pale like many of Golarion’s northern humans, almost certainly accentuated by growing up in an Iomedean abbey. The halo that her mythic power granted her only added to the luster, even if Elaina kept such beauty hidden outside of battle.

Surely a little- No, Arueshalae clamped down on the feeling and pulled her hand away. Too soon, too fast. She wanted to share this moment, like Anevia and Irabeth after a long day…

Both of them were looking to the sky now, despite the clouds. The tower of Drezen’s citadel gave an excellent view that Arueshalae had often admired, but so often the night sky was obscured. If they were fortunate, it was Golarion’s native weather. If they were particularly unlucky, the Worldwound would spew out far worse. Tonight, their romantic outing was blessed with the planet’s own weather.

Still, Arueshalae felt like she had done something wrong. If the idea was these poems served as equal ground to start learning about each other, shouldn’t they be talking? She enjoyed the silence, just being there like mortals do, but she could feel herself tensing. Nothing at all like after sharing a meal with Sarzakys, but she still felt like she had done something wrong.

“Though, storming Drezen was very gallant,” she blurted out. It had somehow made sense in her head - a direct comparison from the poem to how they met. In the flesh, that is. Somehow, it seemed like a complete reach.

“I suppose I did rescue a fair lady from the dungeons,” Elaina looked over, still smiling. “But what about you? Stealing the demons’ plans took no small amount of courage, especially when you easily could have done nothing. If that is not courage, I do not know what is.”

“And yet it was not enough.”

“No, but that was not your fault. If your warning was not dismissed, perhaps Deskari never would have been able to storm Kenabres at the height of Armasse.”

Silence for a few moments… “Thank you,” Arueshalae finally said, wishing she could lean over and hug her, like Anevia had to Irabeth after a long day - managing Drezen, or their recent victory over Khorramzadeh on the Gray Road.

Instead, they had to settle for silence. The time taken, limited as it was with how many duties the Knight-Commander had. And for a mortal, was there anything more valuable? If only she had something besides her horrific demonic nature to-

Any further thoughts were drowned out as a bell rang - to a mortal, it would be melodious and warm, but to her demonic ears? To her very demonic being?

The ringing in her head caused her to stagger as she made it back to her feet. The ringing sounded like an alarm, which meant someone had gotten in. Was the Midnight Fane unleashing its hordes?

Elaina had reacted quickly, standing and reaching for the gilded longsword at her hip. Even without her armor, the paladin was ready to fight and ran to the opposite parapet, looking down to where the bell was. Arueshalae managed to stumble up after, catching the tail end of several children - at least one of them a mongrel or tiefling - running from the courtyard as the two Eagle Watch knights on guard duty that night chased after them.

“Kids…” Elaina exhaled as the ringing faded from Arueshalae’s head and she could think straight. The paladin saw Arueshalae, and her concern immediately shifted. “Are you okay? I know that the bell is not as harsh to you as-”

“I’m okay,” Arueshalae answered, waving her hand. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Just give me a minute and-”

Another flash of light. Bright, yellow-ish-white. Celestial teleportation. Who dared ruin her night - twice?! Her fangs bared, her nails lengthening into claws, ready to rip the throat out of whichever celestial prig had-

A deep and warm voice from an armored golden giant of an angel. “Champion! I heard the bell - is everything alright?”

That sanctimonious - No! Arueshalae forced herself to focus - the initial rush had passed. The Hand of the Inheritor would not threaten her, and he had already lowered his sword that was ready only in anticipation of a threat to all of Drezen. Elaina, sheathing Radiance, explained what happened as Arueshalae focused on pulling herself away from her fight instinct, forcing her nails back to their normal size.

“Oh, the follies of youth,” the Hand lamented, his halo of swords softening and glowing even warmer as he shook his head. Arueshalae wondered if he was smiling under his helmet, perhaps a faint residue of whatever righteous souls created him bubbling to the surface? Then the angel turned his attention towards her. “Are you alright, Arueshalae?”

“I was just surprised,” she explained, glancing at her hands to make sure her claws had gone back to normal. They had, and she was reassured by the exhaustion coming back as her rage ebbed.

The angel nodded once. “I am glad to hear it.” He glanced towards the reclined chairs, then to the stars. “If I may ask, have you laid plans for the Winter Solstice?”

Both women frowned. “What do you mean?” Arueshalae asked. “The longest night of the year?”

“And the second Ritual of Stardust in this planet’s year. Forgive me, I had assumed that as Desna’s protege, you would have been instructed as other devotees to the Song of the Spheres would be.”

“I- no, I never was inducted into the faith. I…” Arueshalae felt her throat tightening - admitting this to Elaina had been hard enough. “I try to avoid troubling Desna, after everything she has done.”

The Hand tilted his head towards her, his halo of swords slowing. “You were brought to the Great Dreamer’s aegis yet not taught what was expected?”

“I… I was told to discover my dream, but I still haven’t figured it out, even with the start of my own.”

Elaina looked between the two as the Hand kept his gaze, before his posture relaxed and he shook his head.

“Ah, I forget,” the angel admitted. “Please, do not be troubled. I am used to the orthodoxy of the Inheritor’s church, or Erastil’s flocks. Still, do you not speak to the priests of Desna serving the crusade?”

The Hand took a step back as Elaina stepped forward, partially interposing herself between the two.

“It’s okay,” Arueshalae told Elaina first, the paladin nodding as she stepped back to the side, then looked to the Hand. “I often think of it, but I am always afraid. I want to, but can I as long as I am this?” Arueshalae gestured with her hand from her horns, down along her torso, and ended just past her tail.

“You just gestured to all of you-” the Hand’s halo nearly stopped in its rotation as he nodded once. “I see.”

“I know that if I join them, I will just pollute whatever joy they find in it. And if the solstice is a particularly holy day…”

“Have you asked one of Desna's priests if it would be permissible?”

It was certainly an orthodox response, one to be expected of a heavenly angel. It was even a simple solution that made sense. Yet if she asked… a hundred outcomes raced through her mind. What if she angered them? How dare she ask for more when she already had been given so much. How many would turn on Desna for a demon joining their adepts? Would Hulrun’s inquisitors once more hunt Desna’s faithful because of her actions?

“Perhaps,” she said instead, but she knew she had paused long enough that her doubts were obvious.

The Hand nodded again. “I will take my leave, then. May your night be restful!” He chose a much less flashy exit, gently taking to the air with his wings before gliding down to the courtyard walls below and walking back to his usual tower.

Elaina turned her attention back to Arueshalae. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for the night to end up like this.”

“It’s not your fault - we both know the Hand is excitable.”

The paladin chuckled. “In a good way!” The smile faded as she looked to the stars. “That said, if you wanted to do something on the solstice, I can make sure that you have the time.”

“Thank you. I don’t know if I will do more than watch, but thank you. Maybe I’ll ask Anevia, see what she’s planning.”

“That’s a good idea…” Elaina glanced up, then to the keep. “I wish we could do this tomorrow, but Irabeth invited me for drinks.”

“Huh. Anevia had invited me for cards,” Arueshalae answered. Translation: Is this the Espionage Council?

“That explains the need for drinks after sundown.” Meaning that the Espionage Council was on as well, just after hours. “Maybe we could do this again the night after?”

“Sure!” The mood tonight was dead anyways thanks to those kids, right? Of course it was. And well, the paladin also needed her own sleep - she had a long day tomorrow of council meetings.

“Then I shall remain your ardent admirer.”

“I- likewise,” Arueshalae barely caught herself. Right, the ‘proper’ farewell. “I mean, as will I.”

Elaina smiled, curtseying as the last silent word, then turned back into the keep, leaving the ascending succubus to her thoughts. Courtly love was weird. As if all the passion was lost in rite… or was just a few centuries out of date? Yet at the same time… Arueshalae decided to table it for now. They had not done it for very long, after all, and there was still much more to it. Hopefully, tomorrow’s council meetings would not exhaust them too much.

#fanfic #pathfinder wotr #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #arueshalae #hand of the inheritor #wotr commander #knight commander #worldbuilding #wish I had more of this ready before the solstice :(

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