#dahlias fic

[pxme-granate]

[achaotichuman]

Once upon a time. In a Kingdom far, far away. A daughter was born to a King. And when he showed her to the forest. How the ground and wind sung her name. Spring Court General Dahlia Gladiolus Fairburn. Daughter of High lord Tamlin Kali Fairburn. Son of The Lady Dahlia Kali Hunter.

The Spring Court’s Heir and General.

Tamlin’s daughter, Dahlia.

[allisluv]

COMING CLEAN

chapter seven — tough cookie

pairing: finnick odair x fem!oc

content warnings: reaping day, president sn*w, finnick being a cheeky little shit. lmk if i missed any!

word count: 3.9k

previous part — next part

The months go by in a blur.

Dahlia spends most of her days training for the Quarter Quell — her mornings are spent practising hand-to-hand combat and her afternoons building up a resistance to physical exertion. Juniper pushes them past their limits and it turns out she can be one tough cookie when she puts her mind to it.

The morning of the reaping approaches much too fast for Dahlia's liking. The houses in Victors Village are eerily silent as she yanks an ivory dress over her head.

She's endured twenty-four Reaping Days during her lifetime and she can hand-on-heart say that they never get any easier.

She sits on the edge of her bed, wringing her hands together when someone knocks their fist softly on her door. Juniper toys with the hem of her yellow sundress until Dahlia tells her to come in.

Juniper pads across the floor in her flat shoes and sits beside Dahlia. Dread hangs over their heads like a dark cloud and neither of them speaks for a while.

Finally, Juniper leans her head against Dahlia's shoulder and whispers, "I don't want you to die. You can't die. You're the only person I have left."

She sits up straight again and rustles about in the bedside locker closest to her. She has been sleeping in Dahlia's bed ever since the announcement; neither one of them can stand being alone.

Juniper holds out the palm of her hand to reveal a necklace made out of different coloured seashells. It's held together with a piece of thick string.

"You might already have a token and that's okay, but I made this for you," she takes Dahlia's palm and closes her fingers around the necklace. "I won't be offended if you don't wear it—"

"It's beautiful," Dahlia ties the string around her neck and ignores the way the seashells scratch at her skin. "Thank you."

The sound of heavy footfall meets her ears and she glances over her shoulder to see River approaching her bedroom door. He shoves his hands into his pockets and leans against the doorframe. "I, uh, saw the peacekeepers. They're on their way down here."

Dahlia's relationship with her brother has been strained since he called her a slut. She nods sharply and pushes past River, knocking her should into his as she goes by. She bounds down the stairs and Juniper follows closely behind her.

Her feet barely touch the floor before Ivy wraps her arms around her sister's waist. If this is the last time she ever sees Dahlia, she wants to commit every detail to memory.

As if on cue, someone bangs their fists against the front door. Dahlia looks up to see the crisp white uniforms the Peacekeepers wear through the pane of glass.

She pries Ivy's fingers off her dress and holds her at arm's length. "Listen to me. It's going to be okay. I promise," Dahlia whispers, smiling softly. "Just do what River tells you. I'll see you when I get back."

The Peacekeepers hammer on the door again and Dahlia fights back the quick remark on the tip of her tongue. It would only land her in trouble. She brushes Ivy's hair out of her face and reaches for Juniper's hand before throwing open the front door.

Wyatt stands a short distance behind the armed Peacekeepers lining the driveway of Victors Village. He offers the girls a crooked smile and grabs hold of Juniper's other hand.

The sun is positioned high in the sky and sweat clings to their clammy skin by the time they arrive at the town square.

The Peacekeepers clear a path through the citizens of District Nine and march them up the steps of the Justice Building, where the reaping was to be held.

Malaki stands in the centre of the stage and his neon yellow outfit billows in the wind. He taps the microphone and forces himself to smile through the ache in his chest. "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour. As always, ladies first."

He makes his way to the left-hand side of the stage and reaches inside the glass bowl. Two slips of paper float about inside. His fingers graze a slip of paper and he walks back over to the podium.

Dahlia's heart beats against her ribcage like a hummingbird flapping its wings. She holds her breath and squeezes Juniper's hand as Malaki unfolds the piece of paper.

"The female tribute for District Nine... Juniper Sinclair!"

"I volunteer as tribute!" Dahlia's hand flies up on its own accord. Malaki's eyes flutter closed and the faint sound of a shaky sigh can be heard through the microphone.

She takes her place next to him and swallows the lump forming in her throat. The reapings are to be televised later tonight for everybody, including her competitors, to see. The last thing she is going to do is break down.

Malaki composes himself and smiles, looking out into the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we have a volunteer! How commendable, especially given that this year is a Quarter Quell. Your female tribute for District Nine is Dahlia Holloway." He clears his throat of any emotion and grips the mic stand until his knuckles turn white. "Now for your male tribute."

He plucks a singular piece of paper from the second glass bowl. "The male tribute from District Nine... Wyatt Riley!"

Mere seconds after Wyatt's name is called, a group of Peacekeepers roughly manhandle them into the Justice Building. The Peacekeepers throw them in a train compartment and leave without explaining why they didn't get to say goodbye to their loved ones.

Juniper boards the train and immediately starts pacing the worn-out carpet. She isn't sure exactly when tongue-twisters had become her vocal stim of choice but everyone had grown so used to it that they understood she needed time to calm down.

"Why don't you go down to your room for a little while? I'll call you when dinner's ready," Dahlia says. Juniper manoeuvres around Malaki on her way to find a quiet place to decompress.

Malaki opens his mouth as if he is going to say something. No words come out and after a couple of beats of silence, he accepts defeat and slumps to the floor by the train doors, cradling his head in his hands.

Dahlia wants to move, to comfort him and tell him that she has made peace with her fate, but she can not find the words.

Wyatt begins to nod off in the corner of the sofa and she reaches for the remote to flick through the re-runs of the reapings.

If she wants a chance at surviving this thing, she should know who she will be going to be up against.

Cashmere and Gloss from District One are going to be big competitors. It might be worth allying with them

Beetee and Wiress could be useful ——— they're smart. Beetee won his games by electrocuting six people at once.

Annie Cresta, a fragile and hysterical young girl, is chosen from Four before Mags volunteers to take her place. Finnick will be going back into the arena, too, but she hadn't expected anything less.

Put it this way, it wasn't a coincidence that the both of them were reaped. President Snow knows damn well that Dahlia would volunteer to spare Juniper from going back into the arena.

Johanna Mason is a force to be reckoned with, too. She isn't as innocent as she looks—— she won her games by pretending to be weak and killing the remaining tributes at the last possible second.

District Eight reaps a mother who has to peel her three children off of her. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark will be joining them in the arena but that doesn't come as a surprise to anyone.

The competition will be hard to beat this year. She's grateful for Juniper pushing them as hard as she did over the spring.

Nobody has much to say over lunch. Wyatt scoffs down dish after dish and drinks himself silly until two Avoxes carry him down to his room, patting his arm sympathetically when he sobs into their shoulders.

Juniper nibbles on plain toast and sips a hot chocolate before eventually retreating to her room to get some shut-eye.

Malaki has somewhat pulled himself together by the time mint-chocolate ice cream is served. His voice is thick with emotion as he says, "I'm sorry, you do know that, right?"

Dahlia meets his eye across the table and carefully reaches for his hand. She intertwines their fingers together. "You've done more than enough to help me over the years. Everybody has. I think it's about time I return the favour."

He gives her hand a gentle squeeze. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, darling."

Night has fallen by the time they arrive at the new Training Centre; it towers over the other buildings, standing twelve stories high.

It's clear that President Snow pulled out all the stops this year and it makes her wonder if he had planned the Quarter Quell from the very beginning. She wouldn't put it past him.

A glass elevator brings them to their living quarters on the ninth floor, where a group of Avoxes have begun setting the table for their evening meal.

Wyatt has slept off his alcohol-induced sadness and is in high spirits. He launches himself onto an orange beanbag and snags a flask of champagne from the countertop. "To death," he laughs and toasts his glass in the air before downing the lot.

Malaki clears his throat awkwardly and takes a seat at the dining table. It's obvious he hasn't been this far out of his comfort zone in a long time.

Juniper had guzzled down three more hot chocolates on the train and is bouncing off the walls. She almost pulls Dahlia's arm out of its socket in her haste to get to the food.

Avoxes ladle thick carrot soup into their bowls before handing out plates of roasted ham and rice. A blackberry pie is passed around for dessert.

Juniper licks her plate clean and asks an Avox to fetch her paper and a pen in a sweet voice. "So, I was thinking—"

"Uh oh."

Dahlia kicks Wyatt under the table. He winces and mimics zipping his mouth shut.

Juniper drums her fingers against the grand oak table as she thinks. "You need allies, right? I'm gonna assume that you two are sticking together." The tributes nod and she scribbles something onto the wad of paper. "Finnick and Mags are an obvious choice — I mean, the old lady may slow you down a bit, but he's not going to leave her. Besides, allying with them will get you more sponsors."

"How?" Malaki saws his fork through a large piece of pie.

Juniper scans her notes and chews the end of the pen. "I mean, think about it. Dahlia and Finnick have been on the front page for the last four months. People are invested in their relationship. It's the perfect opportunity to gain sponsors."

"All they have to do is fight side by side and share a few sweet moments in the arena and Panem will eat it up. That's our advantage!" exclaims Juniper.

Wyatt leans forward in the beanbag and stabs a spoon in her direction. "Juniper, I never thought I'd be saying these words, but you are a genius. I don't even have to do anything!"

He plants a kiss on Dahlia's cheek and she scowls, swatting him away with her hand. He throws his head back in a laugh and bids everyone goodnight before leaving to claim the biggest bedroom in their living quarters.

˚＊✿❀༓❀✿＊˚

District Nine's stylists arrive at the Training Centre bright and early the next morning. Forrest, who has bushy eyebrows and uneven facial features, has been Wyatt's stylist since he volunteered during the sixty-sixth Hunger Games.

Forrest takes his time drinking a glass of champagne as if he doesn't have a care in the world regarding the tight schedule they are on.

Bloom, on the other hand, is a woman on a mission. She's typically an independent worker, but she has brought four assistants to help get Dahlia ready for the tribute parade that evening.

It turns out she isn't the only one cracking under the pressure.

Dahlia isn't given a chance to wake up and she's still half-asleep as someone glosses a nail varnish over her fingernails. She sits in front of the vanity and watches Bloom pull a straightening iron through her hair. "What outfit have you pulled out of thin air this time, I wonder?"

Her hair sizzles in the straightener and a soft smile plays on Bloom's lips. "You'll see," she evades the question with ease. Being Capitol means being born with the ability to avoid any topic in the history of mankind and she is no exception. "Just trust me. It'll be a showstopper, darling."

"I don't doubt it for a moment."

Her dark hair ends up being pulled back into a French twist with glittery hairpieces weaved into it. A few strands are left loose to frame her face and once she moves onto her makeup, Dahlia feels a shift in the atmosphere.

Everything has all of a sudden become very real.

Part of her wants to believe this is a horrible nightmare that she'll wake up from in a matter of minutes. The logical part of her brain knows better.

Yesterday was the last day she would step foot in her house. There would be no more train journeys to and from the Capitol. No more holidays or birthdays, winters or summers, sunrises or sunsets. This was it. She is going to die in that arena. Sooner or later, she has to come to terms with that, but for now, she has to stay focused.

Bloom dips her thumb into a pot of purple glitter and drags it across her eyelids before flicking her lashes out with a wand of mascara. She runs over her lips with a tube of gloss and attaches a pair of heavy silver hearts to her ears.

Her feet are crammed into a pair of high-heeled leather boots and Bloom finally reveals the outfit she will be wearing to the tribute parade.

It was a tight-fitted gold dress with a slit down the middle. It showcased her curves and just the right amount of cleavage to get her sponsors. The top half is fluffed into feathers and in the correct light, it looks like wheat harvested straight from the fields of District Nine.

Dahlia runs her fingers over it in awe as her stylist watches with bated breath. "I love it, Bloom. Thank you."

Bloom pulls the dress off the rack. Her assistants huddle around Dahlia, stripping her out of her bathrobe and helping her fit into the gown.

As her body begins to be moulded into the shape of the dress, she can see the cars pulling up outside of the Training Centre to take them to the Tribute Parade.

As if he has a sixth sense about this kind of thing, Malaki bursts through the door wearing a neon pink outfit that makes her head spin. "Oh, you look outstanding, darling! Are you ready to leave? We don't want to be late," he splays his hands across his hips.

Dahlia moves in front of the vanity as she ties the string of seashells around her neck. Bloom frowns disapprovingly but doesn't say anything.

In the glass elevator, the floors fly past so quickly that Dahlia soon feels queasy. It's a blessing in itself when they step into the lobby of the Training Centre.

Malaki gets roped into a conversation with Haymitch Abernathy and Dahlia doesn't stay around to find out what it's about.

Outside, Peacekeepers hold back reporters who are desperately trying to get tributes and mentors alike to answer their questions. Dahlia steps into the sunlight, and a camera crew from Capitol News ambush her halfway to her car. The rest of the reporters followed the flock.

"We meet again, The Angel of Death," Alistair D'Ettord grins and shoves a mic in her face. "Did you volunteer to go back into the Hunger Games for the glory? How many tributes do you plan on killing this year?" Alistair eagerly motions for his camera crew to zoom in on her face.

Dahlia stands like a deer in headlights as blood seeps through her fingertips. She wipes her hands on her dress and tries to block out the sound of the cannon firing one, two, five, nine, thirteen times. "As many as I have to," she smiles sweetly and struts away without sparing him another glance.

She weaves her way through the crowds and spots Wyatt standing by their car. He's tailored in a crisp gold suit that shimmers in the sun; it's simple but effective. He spots her in the crowd and a smile spreads across his face. He gives her a boost into the car and jumps in beside her.

"Wyatt Riley, where've you been hiding this little number?" she teases, wiggling her pointer finger up and down as the driver pulls into the main lane of traffic.

"I could ask you the same question," he raises a dark brow and vaguely gestures to her dress. "Bloom's a credit. She outdid herself again this year."

The driver pulls into an enclosed part of the Remake Centre, where their chariots lay in wait. Many of the tributes and mentors are already deep in conversation when they arrive, and as their car rolls to a stop, Wyatt helps her out before leaving to find Juniper.

Dahlia sets her feet on the uneven floor and finds the chariot marked with a number nine. Stroking the white horses, she feeds one a sugar cube and runs her hands through its mane. She's in a world of her own and doesn't hear someone calling her name until they are a few feet away from her.

Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen saunter over, dressed in matching black outfits. Peeta smiles at her but she doesn't return the sentiment, too focused on sizing the pair up. "Dahlia, right?" He sounds older than he is and it's hard to believe he has just turned seventeen. She nods and goes back to stroking the horses. "It's nice to finally meet you in person. We've heard a lot about you."

Katniss lingers nervously behind him and tries to get a feel for what kind of person she is. Peeta on the other hand, is more friendly and he extends a hand for her to shake. "I think what you did was really quite brave; volunteering for that younger girl," he says softly.

Dahlia keeps her eyes trained on the horses. "Well, it was the right thing to do." She doesn't like everyone treating her like some kind of hero. "I mean, you volunteered for Haymitch. That's pretty damn brave if you ask me."

Peeta murmurs a few words of agreement and ducks his head with a small smile. He glances over his shoulder to see Finnick approaching. "We should probably get going," Peeta turns back to Dahlia. "It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she smooths her fingers through the horse's mane and turns away from the teenagers. A familiar voice called her name and she glances over her shoulder, eyes locking with Finnicks sea-green irises. "What do you want?" she deadpans.

Her snappiness doesn't deter Finnick and she begins to wonder if anything ever will. "I missed you too, honey. Sugar cube?" She plucks a piece of white sugar from his open palm and pops it into her mouth. "It's meant to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar but you and I... well, our impending deaths are just around the riverbend."

Dahlia's lips quirk into a smile and she ducks her head to hide it. She's grown to appreciate his warped sense of humour, perhaps because it matches her own. "You know, that may be the smartest thing I've heard you say since I met you. I didn't think you had it in you."

Finnick sucks his teeth and clutches at his heart. "You wound me, love." The colour rushes to her face and he takes a taunting step forward. "Do I make you nervous, honey?"

Dahlia's brain just about short-circuits at that. He's standing so close that she can smell the salt air that clings to his skin.

A sudden surge of confidence bursts through her as she sees other tributes with their attention trained on them.

She closes the gap between them, snaking her arms around his neck and leaning in until her teeth graze the shell of his ear. "Play along," she whispers, pulling back and firmly planting her lips on his own.

Finnick's taken aback by her boldness but it doesn't take him long to follow her lead. He pulls away and blinks incredulously at the smug smile she wears. "I didn't think you had it in you," he chuckles, using her own words against her.

"Break it up lovebirds!" Wyatt hollers, holding onto Juniper's hand tightly. Their younger counterpart has a habit of running off if she isn't tethered to somebody.

Juniper wrestles her wrist out of his grip and flaps her hands excitedly as she makes a b-line for the white horses at District Nine's chariot. She gently pats the horse's neck. "Do you think we could get a horse when we go home, Lia?"

Dahlia's heart flips in her chest at the mention of home. Finnick reaches down and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Sure, June. Why don't you write to Ivy and run the idea by her?" she suggests.

Juniper nods before standing up straight and leaning in so that no one can overhear them. "I can't work out if you two are really together or not—" she whispers, "—but if you hurt her, I'll cut off your balls and turn them into a pair of maracas. Got it?"

"Got it," Finnick agrees, fixing her with an amused look. Backstage assistants let them know that there are five minutes until showtime and once Dahlia is settled in the back of the chariot, he leaves to assist Mags.

Dahlia sucks in a deep breath, palms damp with sweat. Wyatt keeps cracking god-awful jokes and she welcomes the distraction.

District One's chariot leads the way into the Parade Centre and as they begin to move, Wyatt interlinks their fingers together, trying to help her maintain some balance in the high-heeled boots. The sunlight is blinding and the audience stretches on for miles.

People in the stands wave signs of support and point at their favourite tributes that pass by. Her hearing has always been impeccable and if the crowd was anything to go by, she and Finnick were fan favourites this year.

Their white horses loop around the city circle and stop outside President Snow's mansion. He stands on a platform, dressed in a red suit and clasping a glass of wine in his withered hands.

Panem's national anthem sounds through the overhead speakers. As they travel around the bend of the city circle for the final time, Dahlia locks eyes with Snow and refuses to break his gaze until he's a dot in the sea of people.

[7clubs]

The third stage of grief - a fic about sisters

Iris is visited by Pearl during her incarceration. They talk about their imperfect mother, and upon seeing this sister she never got to know, Iris can't help but remember the one she did.

Rating: G

Length: 2.5k words

Art by @chaiibei

My piece for @aasiblingszine... Fey family cycles, and a missing piece of the picture

[ Link to Fic ]

[ AA Siblings Zine Leftover Sales are open! ]

[little-fan-stories]

Do you have headcanons for each of asha's friends

Hey anon! Yes and i've had those half written for a while so thanks for asking and enjoy

Teens headcanons :

Dario is a poet, he loves to write and recites them (to this point it's not really a headcanon, it was suppose to be canon initially but they took that off for the final version)

Safi doesn't care about a lot of stuff, the only thing that make him liven up are his friends and the chickens

Dahlia bake all the time (no surprise here), she spend a big part of her free time trying new recipes, and of courses the others are always here to test

Gabo might be the first one to tease and annoy people about everything and anything, but he's also the first one to comfort them when they really need it

Hal loves to dance, sometimes they dance even when there's no music and will try to drag along anyone who is near

Simon may seem like he's sleeping all the time, but his sleep is really light so most of the time he listen to everyone around him when he rest

Asha is an animal lover and has been a vegetarian since her early teenage years

Bazeema takes a lot of pride in being able to appear and disappear without being noticed, and scaring people like that amuse her a lot (even if she doesn't scare them on purpose)

For now it's just one headcanon per character but i have some others in stock that i might post later (when i'm more back in this fandom)

[thequeenofthewinter]

Fic Friday

This is not a drill, folks. Winter is back after a long two months and has posted our next chapter! <3 If you make a stop by, I hope you'll enjoy it...and the smut I was working on. ;)

Rating: E (canon-typical violence, explicit content, check the tags) Genre: Romance, action, adventure, drama Pairing: Dahlia Wintersnow (OC Dragonborn)/Ulfric Stormcloak Link to AO3: An Invincible Summer Snippet:

A light smile pushes at the corners of her lips as she brings his hand up to kiss the palm of it. “Well, that’s it really. I have pretty much told you what we had spoken of. It is the same thing I have been proposing in the council meetings which everyone else seems to be so vehemently against. We give them a portion of land, they fight with us, and then we leave well enough alone. Maybe we dream of peace.”

The optimism she feels is refreshing, if a bit naïve. He chuckles and shakes his head as he studies her. Forest green eyes gleam back at him showing youthful hope, and he is suddenly hit with the difference of their ages—or perhaps it is that he is too jaded. Either way, it comes with the slow creeping of years which seem to come all the more quickly upon him. “Do you think it will be that easy?”

“No, but I can hope, and we can try. That’s all we can do. Giving up is not an option.” She drops his hand and stands, stretching out her back.

“You are right.”

“Say it again.” She teases him, and for a moment he forgets the numbers between them. Hope is infectious, and he is youthful again, if only with her.

“You are right, my Queen.”

[nemaliwrites]

dahlia fic dahlia fic!

“Drink your tea,” Mother says.

Dahlia risks a look inside the teacup. It doesn’t really matter what’s inside, though; she’ll drink it anyway. To drink is to survive, after all. It’s ironic, she thinks, to have to drink poison to survive, but that’s Kurain for you. A village where the living carry the dead with them. A village where family does not love each other. Kurain is a village of opposites.

And in this village of opposites sit two girls who could not be more opposite.

Dahlia glances over at her sister, resisting the urge to gag at the look of fear on her face, a mirror of Dahlia’s own. She has never seen that look on her own face before. 

Iris peeks in her own teacup, hesitant. When she finally takes a sip, she isn’t quick enough to hide her pinched expression. It’s watching that which prompts Dahlia to drink her own tea all in a single swig.

“Well?” asks Mother impatiently, looking between the two of them. 

That’s the advantage of having twins, Dahlia thinks. If one of them drops dead, you always have a spare. 

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Princess Viserra's line

Guess who let themselves think to much HotD and Mikaelsons together.

@riderofblackdragons mostly your fault, you encourage, I share I over think.

also can be blamed on @nightingale2004 Post here

Viserra our drunken horse riding princess got picked as the Mikaelson's Targaryen link so she lives yay, get gets to be the mother of the start of this nightmare mess

Warning for incest, I couldn't pick which parent was the Targaryen before I realised why did I need to pick just one.

Slight changes to Characters names

----

Princess Viserra was once known as the most beautiful of Queen Alysanne Targaryen's daughters, after her marriage she became better known as the cold dragon.

Following her marriage she vowed to give her father what he wanted and never return south, King Jaehaerys wanted his daughters out of his sight so he would never lay eyes on her again.

She kept her word, when years later following the birth of her first child; she refused to present her to the king and queen. 

Queen Alysanne flew White Harbor herself with offers and promises, princess Viserra’s children would be princesses and princes of the realm.

Still the princess refused to leave the north instead Queen Alysanne returned to king's landing to present Princess Daehlia to the king, this was repeated the following year for Prince Mikael and a couple of years after that with Princess Aesther.

Theomore Manderly was clearly proud of his youngest children but after the birth of Princess Aesther he refused to share his wife’s bed claiming he had been widowed enough that he wouldn’t risk losing his princess.

Even when King Jaehaerys grew ill and it was said pleaded for his daughters and wife, Princess Viserra, his last living daughter, laughed and refused at both the letter summoning her south and her children’s request.

Her father didn’t want his daughter running about the kingdom, she had sworn a vow and she would keep it.

—

As the children grew it was clear while Princess Daehlia had gotten her mother’s dark purple eyes and fine features even if she had gotten the dark hair found in northerners, her younger siblings were thought of as the king and queen come again.

Yet the arrangement came from kings landing that princess Viserra’s eldest children would wed as the Targaryen way, however Princess Daehlia vanished before the wedding could pass and Prince Mikael and Princess Aesther wedded.

Rumours spread that Mikael had done away with his dark haired sister so he could wed his golden one.

But however it happened, the marriage proved more fruitful than the royal couple’s with their second child coming just days after the princess Rhaenyra’s tenth birthday.

While the lost of their first born Fraeya was said to have gutted the prince and princess the safe delivery of another son just months after her death was considered a breath of hope; but no one knows why, when any mention of how much the new child favoured the lost Princess Daehlia was met with rage from the new parents.

—--

“Brother please” his little brother’s normally controlled voice contained almost panic when he discovered in his room “don’t do this.”

“Aelijah.“ Finn sighed pausing in his packing, “I can't be father’s heir.” he tried to explain.

“And I can?” Aelijah heaved a sigh forcing Finn to turn to look at his little brother, just turned four and ten years old but with his hands set on his hip and looking at him with a serious look in his dark purple eyes he looked far older. Aelijah could be the perfect heir if not for birth order and the other misfortune of birth.

Finn stepped forward the moment he noticed the expression crumpled, Finn wasn’t sure if it was greenseeing of grandfather’s northern blood or the dragon dreams of grandmother’s but the dreams had left AElijah overcome with moments of fear and confusion. Finn had grown up managing his brother’s slip ups, he knew Niklaeus was just a versed, he wasn’t truly needed anymore

“Finn the things that are coming,” AElijah muttered into his chest “the house of the dragon is going to snap and claw and bleed itself and I can't face it alone.”

“Alright, I'll find another way.” He lied.

Prince Finn was last seen travelling with a flame-haired wildling woman.

—-

Rumours abound that Hayley Stark’s daughter is the child of Niklaeus’ not Aelijah’s, and Cregan used the shame to bring the calmer of the royal brothers into his house than lose his sister to another but whatever the truth was Prince Mikael’s rage at losing another heir was clear to all.

There was no talk about the marriage itself the north knew better than to question whatever is going on between the younger sister of Cregan Stark, Prince Mikael’s former heir and Lord Knott, it was their marriage and the mountain clans had their own way of doing things.

—-

Klaeus hates his father, that Mikael’s grasping reach for power was the reason Aelijah took the first chance to flee to House Stark.

He knows Mikael blamed him for everything, that Niklaeus’ arranged it all so he could wed Rebaekah himself but he wanted his siblings to stay with him losing Aelijah to the starks was not part of it.

He was just glad he could still over over him though the ravens, it was how he knew the dreams were getting worse.

Klaeus grew up with Aelijah's dreams and then Rebaekah’s he knew to listen and read them, House Targaryen was going to tear itself apart and Mikael's want to be a part of it, for the power, was going to destroy them.

Klaeus was going to need to do something about his parents before they got them all killed.

[some-zer0]

Dahlia Hawthorne is just... SUCH a good character.

Like, on the one hand, she's such a fun villain. She's cruel, and seems to delight in it, and her appearance lends itself so well to so much cool imagery: the butterflies, the poison, the appearance of an angel vs. the reality of a demon, etc, etc, etc.

But on the other hand, the second you start to dig around in her backstory, she becomes SO nuanced and tragic. She was Morgan's daughter and possibly her eldest, so was she originally slated to be the next Master of Kurain? Did Morgan treat her the same way she treated Pearl? Does she resent Mia at first because Mia got to have that title instead (and then threw it away)?

And she was FOURTEEN when the events that kickstarted the Fawles trial happened. Fawles frames their relationship as one of mutual love but can we really trust him? She was FOURTEEN and he was supposed to be tutoring her. Did she tell Valerie? Did she even plan to make it out of Eagle River? How did she feel when it was Mia -- her own cousin, of all people -- defending him? How did she feel when Diego wouldn't let her leave all of that behind her?

Then she's on death row, and her mother, who she probably hasn't seen since she was a child, is meeting with her not to console her at the end of her life, but to plot revenge. And what else can Dahlia say? What else does she have, except revenge? She's tried so hard to run away from her bad luck, and be someone she isn't, and all that she's gotten for her efforts is a grave she dug herself.

Except even THAT doesn't go right, and the last thing she sees is her cousin telling her that she can never change. She is forever trapped as Dahlia Hawthorne -- a girl whose own identity and hopes we never really get to know.

(Does she even remember what they were herself?)

[swampthingking]

last line/snippet tag

ty @messerflower for tagging me<3

don’t have anyone to tag but i am doing it anyways lmao!

james and remus have an eye opening conversation

“It was on his birthday. After dinner.”

Three weeks ago, James thinks. He pulls back a bit, releasing Remus, the excitement drained from him, replaced with sorrow for his friend. “Yikes,” he says quietly.

“Fuckin’ yikes,” Remus agrees, taking a drink of his coffee like he was tossing back a shot instead. “No hard feelings,” Remus says, with hard feelings. “Lots of people don’t want to play step-parent.”

“You don’t really think it’s that though, do you?” James asks.

Remus shrugs, dejected. “I don’t know, James.”

“I don’t think Sirius would ghost you because you have a kid,” James says softly. His brain supplies him with an inappropriately timed joke, and he says it, knowing they usually cheer Remus up. “Maybe you were just a terrible lay.”

That gets a reaction out of him. Remus snorts, staring into his mug still. He gives it a little swirl, chewing his lip in debate. He always does that when he’s contemplating; chews the inside of his lip. James is just about to ask him what he’s thinking when Remus shakes his head decisively and says, “Nah, that’s not it.”

James cackles. “How do you know that?”

Remus fixes him with a blank, but telling stare. “I know, James. Trust me.”

[galaxies-and-gore]

Twst OC Bio: Victor Callahan

Time for some more RSA ocs! I've been stuck on this one for a while because I couldn't come up with a name I was happy with. I might change it in the future.

Basics:

Name: Victor Callahan

Birthday: June 12th

Age: 18

Dominant Hand: Right

Unique Magic: Hindsight (He can briefly see into the immediate future. The catch is that the more this is used, the more unreliable it becomes due to all the possible futures blending together.)

School:

Grade: 3rd year

Club: Fencing

Best Subject: History

Preferences:

Hobbies: Collecting knives, testing random potions

Pet Peeves: His intrusive thoughts

Favorite Food: Lemon cake

Least Favorite Food: Onions

Talent: Can tell the difference between almost identical shades of a color

Misc:

Species: Human

Based On: The White Queen

Likes: Ducks, plushies

Dislikes: Dogs, overwhelming smells

Pronouns: He/him

Orientation: Aroace

Hair: White

Eyes: Greenish brown

Rambling:

Okay this is going to be a long ramble because I have a lot to say. This was another of my very early twst oc ideas that I never did anything with at first. I think around a year ago, I saw that an artist that I admire draw their version of the white queen in twst and I had to try to make a character from the same inspiration. The reason that I'm still not happy with his name is just that I put a lot of thought and meaning / symbolism into my characters' names. I wanted his initials to be "V" and "C" because of the vorpal sword and because of Lewis Carroll. This was the best combination that I've come up with so far, but I'll almost definitely change it if I think of something better. The vorpal sword is also the inspiration behind Victor enjoying collecting knives, and the scene in the 2010 movie where the white queen makes a potion to return Alice to normal size is the inspiration behind the random potion making and testing. Except Victor has no method behind the madness. He just throws whatever he has into a caldron and so be whatever happens. He lost his right arm in an accident when he was very little and has a prosthetic arm that looks like blue and white porcelain (I'm going to add an image of what I mean at the end). Victor is also albino. I have a hair style that I think suits him, but I have no idea what it's called. I'll put this first in the images, and I'd be grateful if someone could tell me what it's called. I'm trying to learn about black hair and hairstyles so I can properly draw some of my characters, but I'm still far from knowledgeable. As far as clothing ideas go, I really want to lean in to the impractical doll clothes vibe with his dorm leader outfit, there's also a little bit of a carnival vibe but Idk how to properly express what I mean. I found an image of doll shoes on Pinterest while looking for inspiration and I love them so much and I'm definitely making the part of his outfit. The heel of the shoe is an hourglass and I'm so obsessed with that design. Well I though that I'd have more time to talk, but I don't so I'm cutting myself off here.

Here's the hairstyle, porcelain, and doll shoes I was talking about (all of these are from Pinterest):

[achaotichuman]

10 Days Until…

A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning

1st of June 2024

Summary-

Life is peaceful and calm for Dahlia Fairburn, running with her War Band, and commanding the Spring Court armies. Since the day she could wield a sword, she's been helping her father along with her younger brother, to restore Spring to its former glory. Trying to ignore the festering magic in her body, that threatens to consume her.

One day, all that peace is threatened to be shaken, as a certain prince of Night asks for her to join the rebellion of the Hewn City and Illyria. From beneath the great mountains, an ancient song calls for her. And she meets a woman with death in her eyes, and power in her veins, who makes Dahlia's blood boil while something clicks into place between them.

This new era and generation were thought to be one of peace and prosperity. But the mask of the reigning High Lords begin to crumble, as secrets older than Prythian itself are uncovered, and darkness is unleashed.

Masterlist

Tags- @shi-daisy, @sonics-atelier, @skyesayshi, @sadisticdevile

[allisluv]

COMING CLEAN

Chapter Six — sex for secrets

pairing: finnick odair x fem!oc

content warnings: forced sex work, dissociation + an autistic meltdown, slut shaming, wyatt being a better brother to dahlia even though they’re not actually related. if there’s anything else just lmk!

word count: 3.5k

previous part — next part

Dahlia set her plan into action and changed her form of payment that very evening. Most of her clients were head gamemakers or people who held a position of influence in the Capitol, which gave her a perfect opportunity to gather information on their beloved president and use it to her advantage.

Instead of being paid in cash, she chose to exchange sex for secrets.

She burned through her list of clients in fourteen days and before she knew it, she was on the train back to district nine. Malaki accompanied her on the journey home and flaunted a newspaper in front of her face.

She and Finnick had made the front page for two consecutive weeks. The paparazzi were having a field day with the story. Pictures of them had been circulating the whole of Panem and Caeser Flickerman had been hounding them for an interview since they spoke to Capitol News.

The plan seemed to be working so far and although being in the spotlight would surely make her episodes more frequent, it was a cross she would have to bear if it meant everybody she loved was out of harm's way.

Over breakfast, Malaki joked about how Bloom was growing more popular as the days went by. Dahlia polished off a bottle of fizzy lemonade before excusing herself from the table and retreating to her room on the train.

Dahlia waited for the heavy metal door to clunk closed behind her before she pulled off her slippers and sat on the edge of the bed. It was always difficult to tell what was real and what wasn't when she was on the train. She supposed it was because of all the bad memories she associated with it.

Either way, it would take seven hours to arrive home, and sleeping was the best solution to her problems. She curled up under the thick duvet and silk sheets, falling asleep in a matter of minutes.

As six o'clock rolled around and they grew closer to home, Malaki opened the blinds to let the remaining slivers of evening light into her room before shaking her awake. "Wake up!" he beamed, tugging the duvet down to the end of the bed. She tossed about in protest and groaned into her hands. "Come on, I bet Juniper's dying to hear the gossip first-hand."

Dahlia muttered a muffled string of curses into her elbows before pulling herself up. She wrapped a beige cardigan around her and slid on her slippers as Malaki wheeled her black suitcase out into the hallway.

Although Bloom was an outstanding stylist, she couldn't help but feel grateful to dress in her own clothes again.

As the train pulled into the station and slowed to a gradual halt, Dahlia made her way down the carriage, waiting for the automatic doors to swing open. Fresh air filled her lungs as she hopped onto the platform and wearily offered her thanks to Malaki for hauling her suitcase down the steps.

A sad sigh escaped his lips as he scanned her face, looking for any sign that she was going to retreat into that hazy other world. This time around, they might not get her back, and that thought terrified him. "Darling, are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked gently, patiently waiting for her to acknowledge that he had even asked a question.

Dahlia didn't blame him for being worried —the dark circles under her eyes did little to plead her case—but if she were to answer that question honestly, he wouldn't like what he heard.

The last thing she wanted to do was add to his worries, so instead of telling him the truth, she plastered a smile on her face. "Don't worry about me. It's Bloom you should be checking on — her fingers are probably bleeding from all the sewing," she joked, doing her best to swerve the question altogether.

Malaki had always been able to see through her lies and she half expected a lecture but he didnt press her for the truth. He was probably exhausted (it had been a long couple of days, after all). "Alright, if you are sure," he ran a hand through his hair, his golden rings getting caught in his dark curls. "If you need me—"

"I know," she cut him off kindly. "I'll call if I feel like throttling any reporters," she smiled. The phones in Victor Village only worked half the time but she chose to keep that piece of information to herself. He grinned, and she resisted the urge to flinch at how blinding his teeth were.

The train engine spluttered into life again and she gestured to the closest compartment. "Go on. Don't miss the train. I wouldn't want you getting stranded here, not without any skincare products," she teased, tightening her hold on the handle of her suitcase for something to remind her that this was real.

He chuckled under his breath, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder before catching himself and letting his hand fall back to his side.

"Call me if you need to!" he hopped up the steps to the train and waved through the windows until the surroundings blurred and she was a tiny dot on the platform.

Dahlia huffed out a breath of relief and rubbed at the ache in her chest. It was always easier to breathe when she didn't have reminders of the Capitol around her, even if she did have a soft spot for her escort.

The sun was beginning to set and although the warm light beat down against the nape of her neck, it did little to stop her from shivering.

She was tired of being cold all the time. It made it that much harder to stay in this world.

She tilted her suitcase up onto its back wheels, pulling it along the gravel as she headed for the small cottages in Victor village. The sooner she got home, the sooner she would be able to bribe River into gathering firewood.

She trekked up the familiar path to her house, noticing that someone had been watering her forget-me-nots. "Something smells nice," she announced, abandoning her suitcase in the entryway and preparing for impact.

As if on cue, Juniper deserted her post at the stove, dropping the wooden spoon back into the bowl and hurling herself towards Dahlia.

For someone who weighed fifteen pounds soaked through, Juniper always managed to knock the wind out of anyone she hugged.

"Oh my god, tell us everything! Is the news true? Are you actually going out with Finnick O'Dair?" Juniper squeaked, untangling her arms from around Dahlia's waist and holding her at arm's length. "I can't believe you never wrote me back! I've been dying here!"

Dahlia laughed, kindly shrugging off Juniper's touch and manoeuvring her way around the young girl. June had never been one to give up easily, though, and questions kept tumbling from her lips as she followed her into the kitchen.

Recent events were still weighing heavily on Dahlia's mind and her patience was beginning to wear thin as she sat cross-legged on a countertop. "June, I'll tell you everything over dinner, okay?" she grabbed the blonde's hands in her own.

Juniper nodded earnestly and started violently stirring the stew in the pot, adding in dashes of spices whenever she deemed necessary. She was clearly trying to get dinner on the table because the quicker they all sat down together, the quicker she'd get answers.

Ivy handed over the wooden spoon and pushed onto her tippy-toes to reach for tomatoes in the cupboard above Dahlia's head.

Ivy had always been considered the beautiful one in the family and her older sister couldn't agree more. That was part of the reason she had agreed to Snow's demands — there was no doubt in her mind that if she had refused, the president would've enlisted her sister into sex work at the tender age of nine.

He wouldn't have thought twice about it. He would not have even blinked.

Ivy was all skin and bone with cheekbones that could easily cut through glass. Her hair was black and had fallen out in parts from too much stress, but it covered her face like a curtain, and it wasn't noticeable from afar. Her eyes were by far her best feature —they were alluring, captivating, almost, and they spoke a million words. You never knew who Ivy was, not really, and that was something the Capitol would eat up.

"Is River out harvesting?" Dahlia covered her knuckles with the sleeves of her cardigan. Ivy didn't answer but a noise of agreement got caught in the back of her throat. "Does he know about Finnick?"

Ivy sauntered back to the stove with a sour expression, as if to say 'You bet he does — and he's not happy, either.'

Dahlia ran her tongue over her teeth, listening to the meat sizzle in the pot as her two mini-chefs expertly worked their way around the kitchen. She'd have to find some way to make it up to the girls; listening to River ran and rave for the last two weeks must have been torturous.

Juniper was true to her word and didn't ask about anything until they were sitting down at the table for dinner. "How long have you been seeing your fancy man for then, young lady?" she scooped generous servings of stew into their bowls and sat beside Ivy, impatiently rocking back and forth.

Dahlia desperately wracked her brain for an answer that would satisfy the girls; Ivy could sniff out a lie in milliseconds and Juniper would keep probing for the nitty-gritty details until she was satisfied, which made it incredibly difficult not to tell the truth.

She shoved a spoonful of stew into her mouth to buy herself some time. "We've been seeing each other for a couple of months," she said carefully. "We managed to keep it private for a while but someone walked in on us at a gala."

"What, they caught you having sex?" Juniper blurted out, eyes bulging out of their sockets as her fork clattered to the floor loudly.

"June!" she scolded, all the heat rushing to her face at the insinuation. She brushed back a few fly-away strands of hair and shook her head incredulously. Sometimes she forgot how little of a filter that girl had (which, admittedly, was rich coming from her —talk about the pot calling the kettle). "No, nothing like that. We were just hanging out in the garden and people started speculating, that's all," she insisted.

Ivy eyed her sister curiously. Maybe they hadn't been screwing, as June had so blatantly put it, but there had to be some fragment of truth to what the reporters were saying. She didn't care enough to ask, and the question wouldn't have left her head anyway, so she went back to picking at her food.

"What's Finnick like? Is he nice?" Juniper held her hands up in surrender as Dahlia glared in her direction. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger!"

Dahlia glanced out the window behind Juniper's head. The moon was already out and it was starting to get dark, which meant River would be home soon. Sliding out of her chair, she let the girls split whatever was left of her stew. "You can give me your character analysis when you meet him. I'm sure the two of you'll make a trip to the Capitol at some point or another."

Juniper jumped into a new line of questioning as Ivy took advantage of her opportunity and swiped a few tomato chunks from her older sister's bowl.

Dahlia chewed the inside of her cheek in an attempt to keep her temper in check. Hiding her distaste for the Capitol had worn her out but she refused to take it out on the girls. "Will you two be okay if I go to bed? I've got a migraine."

Juniper nodded sympathetically and anxiously tugged on her heart-shaped earrings. There was a silent understanding shared between the two. Dahlia liked to think that she shielded her victor from all of the terrible things life had to offer, but truthfully, they just never spoke about it.

Dahlia snagged a bottle of water from the fridge, fondly ruffling the girls' hair as she passed by and made a beeline for the staircase.

Her suitcase belted loudly against the steps as she carted it up to her room and shoved it underneath her bed. Out of sight, out of mind and all that jazz —in other words, she would likely forget it existed until Bloom showed up on her doorstep to whisk her away again.

She stripped out of her dirty clothes and heaped them together in the corner before tearing her chest of drawers apart for pyjamas. She stepped into polka-dotted bottoms and yanked a fleece over her head, running a brush through her hair for good measure.

Once the curtains were closed and her salt lamp was emitting an orange glow in the corner of the room, she wrapped herself in her duvet like a butterfly that was desperately afraid to leave its cocoon.

Worry ate away at her insides as she tossed and turned for hours on end, falling into the deep depths of sleep long after everybody else in the house had retreated to bed.

˚＊✿❀༓❀✿＊˚

Dahlia had been burning a hole in the living room carpet since she woke up. Her teeth tore away at the skin around her fingernails.

River had roped everybody into a mother's meeting and had swapped his usual work shift for the evening one. He had been scoffing under his breath, making a big song and dance about the whole situation until Ivy pushed him out the back door and locked him out.

Dahlia had been this close to ripping his head off and she was thankful that her sister had stepped in. The last thing she needed to deal with today was his inflated ego. He stropped off to the market to get some food and she hoped he would be calmer by the time he came back.

Juniper and Ivy were perched in the windowsill like two cats, their knees pressed up to their chests as they talked amongst themselves — well, as Juniper talked and Ivy listened.

Wyatt sat at the kitchen table, hands cupped around a steaming mug of coffee as he fought to keep his eyes open. At least she wasn't the only one running on empty this morning.

Letting out a frustrated groan, she collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, holding her head in her hands. She found comfort in sitting with Wyatt. He didn't ask questions or hound her for details or tell her what to do. He just smiled tiredly and sipped his coffee like it was any other morning.

A burst of gratitude swept over her at how easy it was for him to adapt to his surroundings. She often said he was like a chameleon, changing forms and personas depending on who he was surrounded by, and she supposed that was something they had in common.

It was eleven o'clock when Juniper fell out of the windowsill, landing with a thump on the floor and loudly announcing that River was coming back.

Dahlia wiped her clammy palms into her blue jeans and rested her hand on her abdomen to regulate her breathing. Wyatt poured the dregs of his coffee down the sink and inched his chair closer to Dahlia's. He would no doubt be playing referee between the older siblings.

River crept his way back into the house, his arms folded over his chest like a child throwing a temper tantrum. He set the bag of food down on the table and sat opposite his sister. The girls were quick to follow suit, standing behind Dahlia's chair like a firing squad.

He propped his head up with his hands and sighed. "I know you're not going out with Finnick but what I don't understand is why you insist on entertaining the rumours. They're painting you out to be a slut and you're letting it happen," he spat.

Juniper knew that Dahlia would retreat into her own head if given the opportunity. She traced shapes into the older girl's skin to keep her tied to this reality.

Wyatt's eyes rapidly darkened and he clenched his fists in his lap. "Watch your tongue," he warned. His voice was raspy and he leaned forward in his chair. "Call her that again and see what fucking happens." He stood to his feet and River followed suit, towering over the victor.

Before either of them had a chance to start fighting in the middle of the kitchen, a hologram on the telly began to fizzle into focus. The Capitol anthem rang out, bouncing off the walls of the house.

President Snow took the stage and as the anthem ended, he began to speak about the Dark Days.

Dahlia's feet were moving on autopilot as she walked into the living room and collapsed on the sofa in front of the hologram. Everyone else was quick to follow and the tension between River and Wyatt was quick to dissipate.

Juniper sat at her feet and clutched her hand like a vice, eyes glued to the screen. "It must be the card reading," June whispered. "They announce the twist a couple of months before the games begin. That must be what it is, right?"

Dahlia's face was paling as the seconds ticked by. President Snow pulled an envelope from a wooden box and began to read from the card.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them can not overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors!"

Dahlia keeled forward off the couch, landing on her knees as a scream clawed its way out of her throat.

She slipped away after that, and the feeling of being gently rocked back and forth was what brought her back to reality.

She was cradled in somebody's arms and the smell of pine told her that it was Ivy. She pried her eyes open.

The hologram had disappeared and the evening light blinded her. She didn't remember getting to the lake but gaps in her memory was normal when her brain was working in overdrive.

Ivy quietly shushed her and pushed back the damp strands of hair stuck to her temple. "I can't go back there. I can't do it," she sobbed.

Dahlia lay her head in Ivy's lap and the younger girl threaded her fingers through the knots in her hair just as their mother had done when they were kids.

There was a chill in the air as Ivy brushed the sand off her kneecaps and led Dahlia back to the house, keeping a firm hold of her hand in case she broke free and started to run.

As they neared Victor's Village, Dahlia could hear a wailing sound that was no doubt coming from her female counterpart in the reaping. Her feet were moving on autopilot as she slipped in the back door.

River had backed himself into a corner and was watching nervously as Juniper scratched at the skin on her arms. Wyatt was sat on the floor beside her, yet he maintained his distance in case it escalated the situation.

Ivy dimmed the lights and kicked River and Wyatt onto the porch. The last thing June needed was an audience.

Dahlia crouched down in front of her. "June, it's just me. I know you're probably struggling to understand what is happening and why it's happening and that's alright. It's okay to be scared and confused because I am here to help. Do you want me to explain what's going to happen?"

Juniper hummed under her breath and flapped her hands as she tried to break apart what Dahlia was saying. Once she could understand what was being said, she nodded anxiously.

"There's three months until the reaping so that gives Wyatt and I plenty of time to get back into shape before the games. We're gonna train like careers and you're gonna be our coach! I need you to listen carefully to this next part, okay?"

Juniper continued humming but she pried her eyes open a fraction of an inch.

"I'm going back into the games. Me. Not you. I love you but I will never forgive you if you volunteer. Do you understand?" she warned, gently brushing away the tears rolling down her warm cheeks.

Juniper sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. "Promise me you'll come back. Promise me."

Dahlia swallowed the lump in her throat. It was hard to lie to Juniper— it was like kicking a puppy when it was already down. "I promise."

[citnamora]

I tried writing an analysis post on Dahlia Hawthorne like four times last night but every time I did another truck of ideas would hit me square on and I'd hit save draft to start another. Endless cycle. I cannot coherently articulate my thoughts without spiraling into another set of them. I just have a Lot of Feelings about her and Iris. At one point I also thought about April May and the interesting parallels between their sprites but that post was also saved as draft. So.. look out for those when they finally pop out, lol.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Fic Friday

It has been two months, but I have finally returned with more words. <3

Rating: E (canon-typical violence, explicit content, check the tags)

Genre: Romance, action, adventure, drama

Pairing: Dahlia Wintersnow (OC Dragonborn)/Ulfric Stormcloak

Link: An Invincible Summer

Snippet:

For a few moments, Dahlia hesitates as the gold embroidered velvet hangs there in her hands, fingers absentmindedly stroking over the patterns there. It shimmers back as if in answer to her musings--a ridiculous notion to be sure. While the enchantments themselves flickers of magic, no sentience is held therein. Fabric is fabric, and to be afraid of such a thing is silly.

Dahlia shakes out her robes and turns to Ulfric who is looking at her curiously. "These have never been worn. They're the new ones Colette had sent after the War." She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before continuing, "I had not wanted to put them on for obvious reasons, and well, now it does not feel like I am much of a mage at all."

He waits for her, sensing she is not quite done. Numerous times over the years, particularly after the First Great War, he has seen the same hesitation from those returning from battle after many years of being off the field.

"I am soon expected to take on the apprentices which Faralda deems ready for more Restoration training, and I don't--" She shakes her head and turns from him.

"If you do not try, you will never know." One of his arms comes up to squeeze her shoulder, pulling her back against his chest. "Besides, I know what you are capable of. We all do. It is a great and terrible burden to carry on one's conscience, but I also know you are not one to run from what is difficult. Neither of us are."

She sighs and leans back into him."How did you do it?"

It is a simple enough question; however, it holds a deceptively complicated answer. "I do not know if I am honest. Only that I continued on one day at a time." He sighs. "It got easier at some point."

"When?" Her eyes sparkle with hope as she looks up at him.

"After you walked into my life."

She shakes her head at him. "Because it is your birthday, I will allow you to tell me pretty lies."

[nemaliwrites]

i finally got around to reading "Rappaccini's Daughter" by Nathaniel Hawthorne and now i have Dahlia Thoughts™

Rappaccini's Daughter, according to the Ace Attorney wiki, is where the inspiration for Dahlia's last name comes from. I read it with my Fandom Goggles on, and not to get too english class here, but....we're about to get pretty english class

For those of you who haven't read it, it's a gothic short story abt a medical researcher whose experiments with poisonous plants result in his own daughter, Beatrice, becoming poisonous. The man who falls in love with her slowly learns the truth about her nature and struggles to cope with it.

"Am I awake? Have I my senses?" said he to himself. "What is this being? Beautiful shall I call her, or inexpressibly terrible?"

A large portion of our MC's internal narration heavily revolves around the idea of one's appearance vs their nature. He refers to the garden as "an Eden of poisonous flowers". When he shuns Beatrice for what she is, she tells him that even though her exterior is poisonous, her soul is pure.

This is a direct contrast to Dahlia, who Phoenix refers to multiple times as an "angel". And, needless to say, her soul is quite the opposite.

But the one thing the story makes clear about Beatrice is that she is, at the end of the day, a victim of her circumstances - in the same way that Dahlia arguably is as well. The MC's realization of the truth comes like this: he realizes that because Beatrice has been raised in the presence of poison, she has become poisonous herself -> i feel like I don't even need to relate this back to Dahlia at this point, it kind of slaps you in the face.

Beatrice confronts her father, too, and asks why he inflicted this miserable curse on her; but he is adamant that he hasn't done anything wrong.

"Wouldst thou, then, have preferred the condition of a weak woman, exposed to all evil and capable of none?"

He claims it's anything but misery to be as terrible as you are beautiful, to have the power and strength against which no enemy can prevail -> does that not give you big Morgan vibes

At the end, she takes an antidote given to her, believing that it will cure her of her poison - but because she's been so inextricably tied w the poison, there's no curing her anymore.

To Beatrice,--so radically had her earthly part been wrought upon by Rappaccini's skill,--as poison had been life, so the powerful antidote was death

The comparisons to Dahlia are interesting, I think, in that the 'poison' can be used as a metaphor for literally anything else. If we stick with the whole 'you can't escape from your nature and whatever you are raised in the presence of is something you can't separate from yourself anymore', then in a way Dahlia is the exact opposite of Beatrice. One actively fights against and rejects her nature, isolating herself from the entire world, while the other accepts it wholeheartedly. It also can be used to draw further comparisons between Beatrice's father and Morgan: one purposefully molded his daughter to fit his desired image, while the other actively was not involved, but still led to the same end result.

Beatrice's tragedy is that she's aware of her poisonous nature and hates it. She tells Giovanni, her love interest, "I am poisonous! I am deadly! I am like the fatal basilisk that slays with a glance!" She's a prisoner of her father's making, a living weapon who longs for normalcy. Dahlia, on the other hand, embraces her poisonous nature. She uses her charm like a weapon, manipulating everyone around her. There's no longing for normalcy with her; she revels in the chaos she creates.

"Thou hast filled my veins with poison! Thou hast made me as hateful, as ugly, as loathsome and deadly a creature as thyself--a world's wonder of hideous monstrosity!"

And, unwillingly, Beatrice ends up passing on her poisonous nature to Giovanni - and now he's forced to live with this curse. What, then, does that say about Phoenix...?