#great houses

[eraenaa]

Bittersweet

Inspired by the song "Too Sweet" by Hozier

Feyd- Rautha x Lady Reader

Summary: As the Na-Baron's proposed bride, you were simply too sweet for him and his bitter being. You were too innocent and pure to be tainted by the blood-stained hands of the Harkonnen heir.

Warnings: Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, Mature, 18+, P in V sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Overstimulation, ¿Slight Rejection?, ¿Softer Feyd-Rauth?, Not Proofread

Word Count: 4,607

They say you were of great beauty and good breading, all things needed in a wife. Feyd-Rautha never sought out a love match; all he needed was a wife whose womb was suitable for taking his seed and producing his heirs. He saw meeting you as a dire chore, having to travel to your planet and seek out and court the girl whose task could be reduced to a simple broodmare. Feyd-Rautha grimaced at the bright sun on your home planet, a planet that resembled ancient Earth before it ultimately met its demise. Your father, the duke, stood with his duchess to greet and welcome him. He turned to your mother, a small fake smile on her lips as she was trying hard not to let her distaste show as she saw the man who they planned to marry her daughter too. Sickly pale and hairless, far from the standard of beauty your planet had. 

“Na-Baron, welcome; we hope your journey was well,” your father greeted. The Na-Baron let him continue on with pleasantries as his eyes searched for you, whom he was tasked to court and marry. He wished to know if you were truly as beautiful as all had praised you. He wanted to deduce if you were somewhat worthy of all of this trouble he must go through. “Come, let us escort you inside, my lord. My daughter waits for you there,” He heard the duke say, and the Na-Baron felt annoyance at your self-importance, not even bothering to greet him as he had landed, having him be the one to come to you. He somewhat made up his mind that you were a spoiled child of one of the great houses. Covered in frills and frivolity. That whatever beauty they talked about and praised you for was just a cover to hide the fact that you were a tempestuous, spoiled brat who would certainly be a difficult wife for any lord. 

Feyd-Rautha hid his confusion and annoyance as he was led to a place surrounded by greenery and colors that stung his eyes foe be was used to the bleakness and darkness of his home. “My sweet,” The Na-Baron heard your father call, and that is when he finally noticed you. Your back was turned from him, hair that he had none cascaded down your back and reached your waist that was cinched inside the bodice of your color-filled gown. Feed clenched his jaw and felt his breathing stutter as you finally turned your direction to him. Turning to the call of your father with your bright eyes searching for his frame and pink lips parted, you had a flower in your hand, your fingers rolling the delicate stem. 

“Na-Baron, may I present you, my daughter,” Your father said and urged you to step closer. You licked your lips and curtsied lowly before the heir of house Harkonnen and your possible husband. “Welcome, Na-Baron,” You said lowly. Feyd was never one to be phased, especially not stunned, but that was the precise state you had placed him in. He thought the praises they gave of your beauty and nature was an exaggeration— they talked about you as if you were a propaganda, a savior, a goddess of beauty. And now, the heir of House Harkonnen understood their words and saw they spoke truth in every syllable uttered. 

You grew more nervous with each moment the Na-Baron did not reply to your greeting. You felt rather unnerved with each passing moment he stared you down with his blue eyes, his plump yet pale lips parted as he assessed your frame. You swallowed thickly and turned to your father for some sort of comfort, but he, too, did not know how to take the Na-Baron’s silence. “My lady,” the Na-Baron finally rasped out, your skin glowing with gooseflesh at how his voice sounded— it was a sound you had not heard before, something different and interesting. All together, the Na-Baron was different and interesting. “I shall leave you two to talk and get to know each other better,” Your father said, and you willed your heart to calm as the intense stare of the Na-Baron was undoing your composure. 

“How… how are your travels, my lord?” You asked after a pause of silence, the Na-Baron wanted to roll his eyes as you had the same trite question as your father. However, he still replied. When there was silence after his answer, he watched you fiddle with your fingers and unconsciously bite your lip as you thought of another topic of conversation. “Would you like a tour of the castle, Na-Baron?” You asked, and though Feyd had little to no interest in architecture and was actually quite tired from his travels, he still felt himself nod and walked beside you as you guided him through your home. 

Feed listened to your sweet voice that sounded of harmonious melodies. Telling him of the history of your house and the decor the castle keeps. Noticing how your voice would grow slightly higher when you spoke of something that was of much interest to you. He also noticed how all who passed the two of you would bow in respect and you would offer them your sweet smile with a wave of your hand or a greeting on your lips. It should annoy him that when stood next to you, his imposing and intimidating demeanor seemed to be outshined by your charming and pleasing self. 

You two paused by a mirror, a painting atop of it, which you explained the meaning of in great detail. Feyd-Rautha caught your reflection, the two of you of stark difference. There was quite literally an aura of lightness exuding from you, the sweetness in your voice, the innocence and naivety in your eyes so entirely different against the darkness he exudes, the black that stained and hardened him. Feyd-Rauth could not take his dark eyes from your lips, the way they moved as you spoke, how you would lick them when you paused from speaking, giving them an irresistible sheen and making them look more pink and evermore kissable. 

The Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha never had the urgent desire to kiss anyone before. Yes, he had his darlings and concubines, but ever since he acquired them, he had never once kissed them first. When they started to grow slightly comfortable around him, they would kiss his lips, eager to make him kiss them back, but he never did. He did not find any sort of pleasure in kissing them. But with you… just by the look of your lips, all he wanted to do was grab your flushed cheeks and feel your mouth against his. “My lord?” You called as you had noticed that the Na-Baron was staring far off into the mirror, unresponsive to your previous calls. “Na-Baron?” You asked and gently took hold of his arm to asses if he was truly well. 

Feud felt his whole body tingle as you placed your touch atop his armor-clad arm, a concerned look on your face that he had never been the receiver of. “Are you well, my lord?” You asked with a concerned tilt of your head. “Y-Yes,” He stuttered, what had you done to him? The ferocious and fearsome fighter that he was now far gone as you blessed him with your gentle touch. “I apologize; I may have droned on for too long… I shall escort you to your chambers so you may find rest,” You said with slight embarrassment. Lowering your gaze to the floor and removing your hand from his arm. Feyd did not know how to perceive you… you were demure yet somehow confident. You were genuine, yet not at all of you could be read and deciphered by him. 

The Na-Baron once again followed you as you led him to the guest wing of the keep. His eyes were steadily at your frame, the way your hair swayed and bounced at every step you took. How you left behind a trail of your scent in the corridors, the Na-Baron greedily inhaled it and felt himself turn warm with a further push to his desires. As you had led him to his chambers to let him rest, you curtsied before him once more, the Na-Baron catching the most tempting view of your bosom. His mind and body were screaming at him to pull you into the chambers and have his way with you. To show you new dimensions of pleasures and ruin that he was certain you had never had before. But the Na-Barom did the genteel thing to do and gave a bow before watching you walk away and finally retire to his own chambers to rest. 

When the next morning came, the Na-Baron found you in the gardens once more. You kneeling by a structure that houses water with a statue in the middle of it. He curiously leaned forward to inspect what you were doing. He watched as your fingers pushed floating flowers, and a small smile grazed your face. He stepped closer, announcing his presence in the reflection of the water. He expected you to grow startled; he was waiting for the fear to come to your eyes, but he was taken aback as you turned to him with a pretty smile upon your lips. The Na-Baron swallowed thickly as he felt his heart stutter at your smile. He never thought he had one— a heart, that is. But now it announced itself greatly as it throbbed loudly in his chest when you stood and stepped closer to him. 

“I hope you had a good night’s rest, Na-Baron,” you said in your genuine tone. “I—I did,” Feyd clenched his jaw; he was stuttering again. What had you done to him? How could you have dismantled and discombobulated him with just a smile and your honey voice? “Would you care to join us to break our fast?” You asked and glanced toward the direction of the laid-out feast for the morning. The Na-baron gave a curt nod, and you led him towards the table where your parents were approaching. 

Feyd gave them a nod as they greeted him whilst assisting you into your seat. He was truly doing the most here, being obliging to you and your kin just so the courtship would be a success and he’ll finally gain a wife and a womb. Feyd listened in to the chatter between you and your parents; you were truly quite talkative. If it were anyone else, he would have grown annoyed with the incessant blabbing that he would cut off their tongue. But somehow, with you, he did not mind it. He actually found it endearing, and he wouldn’t mind for his future days to be filled with your voice. Feyd watched as you filled his cup with a dark, steaming substance. “Would you like sugar and cream, Na-Baron?” You asked and Feyd eyed curiously the liquid in his cup. He did not even know what it was, and you were offering him other substances to put on it? He declined and raised the cup to his lips. Surprised at how he quickly grew fond of the bitter, dark liquid. He watched as you added three cubes of sugar and a dollop of cream to your own cup, altering the bitterness the Na-Baron relished in. 

When the meal ended, you half expected that the Na-Baron would disappear with your father and discuss business; you were surprised that he was once again by your side. “Shall we continue on with the tour?” He asked, watching as you slightly frown. “Are you certain, my lord? I… I was afraid I had bored you yesterday with me droning on about the histories,” You say and feel your stomach fill with butterflies as the lord offers his arm for you to take. “No, I found it quite… educational,” He said and oddly felt his cold blood run warm at the smile that bloomed on your lips. You were quick to oblige his request, and his ears were filled with the soothing melody that was your voice. 

Though your voice and presence were soothing, there was a pestering feeling inside the Na-Baron. With every moment you kept your arm on him, your smile pointed towards him, and your innocent eyes looking up at him, he felt entirely guilty—guilty and torn. Were you truly the one he was meant to marry? You? So pure and innocent, a pretty little flower that would wilt under the dark, harsh sun of Geidi Prime and its heir. He could not take it upon himself to be the one to ruin you— he could not be the bitterness that seeps into your sweetness. 

As he sat across from you during dinner, a glass of bitter liquor in his hands, he had made up his mind. He could not be so cruel to be with you— you had turned his stony being soft for you and you alone. He wanted you, yes. Greatly so. With every moment spent in your presence, all he wanted to do was to take you and make every single inch of you his, but he placed great restraint upon himself as he could not tarnish your innocence. Perhaps in a few years, when the naivety of youth is gone in your eyes, and the sweetness in you has finally been diluted. Just not now.  

Feyd knew he should keep his distance, but he humored himself and escorted you to your chambers. “Good night, my lord,” You said, peering up at him. As always, he was silent. In others, you would find their silence unsettling and off-putting but with the Na-Baron, you found peace in his silence. Serenity, no matter the warnings your mother repeated at how violent and harsh Harkonnens were. There was something about his difference that attracted you greatly, which horrified your mother when you admitted to her that you developed a liking towards the young lord and how you would not be opposed to that if a match was struck between the two of you. 

You watched as his lips parted, and his dark blue eyes would trail between your orbs and your lips. You were hesitant as to where the scene would lead; you did not know if you should disappear into your chambers or stay rooted in your spot and wait for what would transpire between you and the Na-Baron. A long stretch of silence came, and you finally decided to move, a tad embarrassed as you had hoped that he would lean in closer and possibly kiss you… you have had the thought countless of time today. You let out a breath and turned away but ultimately were pulled toward Feyd-Rautha’s direction and finally felt his plush lips against yours. You tasted the bitterness of the brandy he had during dinner along with the cool taste of him… you feel cold hands cradle your cheek and the back of your head to keep you and your lips steady against his.

Feyd was proven correct at just how sweet you were. You were tooth-achingly sweet, inside and out. He pulled you closer and licked your bottom lip, expecting resistance, that your sensibilities would return pulled away. But you only let out a quiet moan and let him snake his tongue in. Feyd Rautha felt himself strain harder against his trousers, his hand that cupped your cheek trailed lower to your neck then down to your bosom. You gasped and pulled away, surprised by the immediate action. Feyd was dismayed himself as he gambled too much. He should not have dared to be so bold and quick to show all of his desires. “My lord, I…” you say in surprise, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Eyes were flashing with a warning but deeper desire behind it. You breathed heavily as the Na-Baron backed away and stomped off, retiring to your room confused and filled with need. 

The following morning came, and Feyd’s mind was made. He could not succumb to his desires and ruin you further. He was selfish, and his mind was muddled with want when he dared to kiss you and feel you against him. He knew if he spent another moment in your presence, his control would falter, and he would finally take what he had desired the moment he saw you in the gardens. “We respect your decision, my lord, however unfortunate it is,” Your father spoke as the Na-Baron stood in his study. The sun had barely risen, and the Na-Baron was quick to speak with his host and bid goodbye. “The treaties shall still take place, but a marriage is no longer required, my lord.” The Na-Baron stated, giving the agreement as a consolation for your planet. He watched as your father nodded his head. “I shall call on my daughter for the two of you to bid good bye,” Feyd wanted to protest, cowardly as he had hoped to leave your planet without another glance at you because it would make everything all the more harder. 

You frowned as your father broke the news to you and your mother. You turned to the woman who birthed you and saw the relief in her eyes, urging you to say your goodbyes so the Harkonnen heir could finally leave. You chewed on your lip as you could conclude by the abrupt departure and change of mind of the Na-Baron. You entered your father’s study, and he quickly left to give the two of you privacy. 

You stood by the wooden door, head hung low, and could not take it upon yourself to look at the man you had hoped to be your husband. “Goodbye, my lord, I… I hope you enjoyed your stay,” you said lowly, and Feyd clenched his jaw as he heard the hint of melancholy in your voice—melancholy that he was the reason for. “I have. Thank you for your hospitality, my lady,” He said and felt his body being pulled closer to you. A pull that he himself could not hinder. He stood before you and took your chin between his rough fingers, urging you to look up at him. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, guessing your startled state the other night is what had led him to the decision. If not that, it was because you were not as chaste as he may have wanted for a wife— that you were ever so enthusiastic to kiss him and let him hold you. Perhaps he thought you untamed or promiscuous which is the reason for his sudden departure. You licked your lips as he made no reply; you shielded your gaze and backed away, his hold on your chin gone. “My lord, if this is about last night, I—“ Feyd clenched his jaw as his mind made him remember the way your lips danced with each other, the way it felt to hold your soft frame against his. “It is not.” He gritted, and you immediately stopped speaking, sensing aggravation in his tone. 

“Then, may I ask what is the reason?” You asked, wanting closure for the disappointment. You listened in to his strained breathing, your eyes catching the way his fists clenched along with his jaw. “I cannot marry you… I cannot be the one to ruin you,” He whispered the last part, his rasping voice struggling to utter the words. You tilted your head in confusion, “What? I do not understand, my lord,” You said and Feyd took in a harsh breath. “You are too pure— too sweet for me. You are not suited to be in the harshness of Geidi Prime let alone be a leader to it.” He said harshly, guilt coming to him as you stared at him with slight fear and offense. “You are too innocent and… and good for someone like me; this is for the best, my lady.” 

You frowned at his words, “You cannot think me to be so delicate,” You defended yourself. The Na-Baron scoffed and shook his head, “You are delicate. You are like those flowers you are greatly fond of— just one wrong thing, and you’ll wilt. You will not wither away in my hands,” He stated, and you felt your lips twitch at how he compared you to flowers. “Is that it? You think I’m weak and too kind?” You asked and observed the way the Na-Baron nodded. “Then I am the perfect match for you, do you not think?” You said, stepping closer. 

Feyd-Rautha was at a loss for words. “If I am weak… I would need someone strong to protect me… someone who is known to be the most skillful warrior in the universe… someone like you,” You whispered and dared to take hold of his cold hand. The Na-Baron felt his heart announce its existence once more, loudly thrashing inside his chest. Your scent invades his senses and makes his knees weak. His gaze turned from looking into your enchanting eyes and then to your luscious lips. “If I am too kind, then I would need someone fearsome so people would not take advantage of me and my good nature… I would need someone ruthless as they say you are,” You whispered, pressing your bodies closer, making him see that you, too, desired him. You feel his length straining against his trousers and perfectly settle upon your stomach, your cheeks going flush at the look of great wanting in the dark eyes of the Na-Baron. 

“If I am too sweet… then I need someone bitter to balance me… I need someone like you, my lord. I want you.” You whispered, slowly going to the tip of your toes to indicate you wished for the kiss. The Na-Baron got the hint and smashed your lips. Your lips fervently danced against each other, the Na-Baron kissing you as if you were the air he needed in his lungs. “You want me?” He breathed as you both parted for air. “I do, Na-Baron.” You said. Truth in your tone. You feel wetness pool between your legs at the growl that left his throat, his lips meeting yours once more. You guided his hand to cup your bosom, just as he had wished to do so the night before. You moaned against his lips as he kneaded your chest through the soft bodice of your gown. 

You feel him guide you to your father’s desk. Perching you upon the stable wooden table and placing himself between your parted legs. Your breathing heaved as his lips were placed on your neck, the Na-Baron biting your flesh and soothing it with his tongue. You turned your head to the ceiling as you felt him hike up your gown, his cold hands leaving fiery heat with each touch. “Say it again,” Feyd demanded as his hands squeezed the plump flesh of your thighs, the heat from your core radiating and calling for him. “I want you, Feyd… I need you, please,” You pleaded and placed your lips to kiss his neck, soft lips kissing his pale flesh, teasing the ball on his throat. 

Your eyes widened as the Na-Baron pulled away, watching in shock as he went to his knees and placed his strong hold on both of your thighs, urging them to part further so his lips could be met with your cunt. You gasped as you felt him push aside your small clothes and lick your slit with his talented tongue. “So fucking sweet,” he groaned and buried his head in your needing cunt. You bit down hard at your lip as the moans you wanted to spew would surely be heard by those who stood and passed outside. “My lord,” You cried as you felt him sucking upon your pearl and his cold finger teasing your entrance. “Feyd… please!” You pleaded as you wanted to feel more. The Na-Baron hummed and obliged your request, placing a finger in your tight cunt. You hear him spew out fouled words and praises, amazed as he watches your wet cunt squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You take my fingers so well, my sweet… now let us see how you’ll manage when it is my cock.” You whimpered as he abruptly stole his pleasuring fingers away as you were on the verge of climax.  

Your eyes were hooded with lust as you watched the Na-Baron greedily suck your essence from his fingers. You felt the urge to close your parted legs to seek out friction at the way he undid his trousers and set his manhood free. Your lips parted as you saw the whole of him, throbbing and pink… the head of his length releasing sheer grayish beads that indicated how much he wanted you. Feyd growled at how shamelessly you looked upon his length, want, and lust, the only thing evident in your eyes. He smashed your lips once more and positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock gliding between your glistening folds. He pushed his way in, and he heard your sharp intake of breath, and whimpers of pain quickly followed. “This what you wanted…” Feyd gritted. A thin sheen of sweat all over his body at how you clenched tightly around him. “Yes, this is what I want.” You said, trying to prove to him that you were not as delicate as he had made you out to be. 

It took a moment before he was fully sheathed inside you. Both of you already panting. When Feyd slowly moved, he watched as your face contorted in pain, kissing away the tears that fell from your eyes as he took away your innocence. Feyd hissed as you clenched around him, finally feeling pleasure, your mouth spewing out sweet moans and calls of his name. “Look at you… my sweet, little wife, so pleasured by my cock,” The tears of pain turned to pleasure as you feel your peak quickly building up again. Feyd claimed your lips and bit down harshly to draw blood, curious to see if even your blood was as sweet as your being; it was. You moaned against his lips as your peak found you, your wetness doubling along with your sensitivity, but that didn't phase the Na-Baron.  He only continued to pound at you at a pace that would surely leave you unable to walk and sore for days to come. 

“Feyd, please…” You pleaded for something you did not know. All you knew was you were about to come once more, ready to cry out the name of the man who provided you with such blinding pleasure. The Na-Baron could usually last for hours, but with the way you clenched around him and how you sweetly moaned and called for his name, it was a miracle that Feyd had not spilled his seed the moment he pushed the head of his cock inside you. “Will you come again, my sweet? Will you come around my cock again?” Feyd hummed as his thumb circled the pearl in your cunt, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. 

“Yes…yes— oh yes!” You cried as you came, clamping around the Na-Baron’s length so tightly that he, too, joined you in your climax. His dark seed filling you and taking root. You two breathed heavily, Feyd hunching over you, who was perched upon your father’s desk. “Still too sweet and pure for you?” You asked in between breaths, watching as Feyd-Rautha wickedly smirked as his bitterness seeped into you and how his hands had tainted you. Perhaps he did need sweetness in his bitter life.

[inky-duchess]

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: How to Dress

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI.

I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

Today will be focusing on the rules of clothes with this time period.

A Cut for Every Occasion

As you may know, the wealthy elite and their servants lived extremely regimented lives and every aspect was governed by careful rules. They would be expected to wear the right outfit at the right time, every minute of the day. Any misstep would be noticed at once and be subject to scruntiny.

In the circles of the elite, one would be expected to change for every occasion. One simply wouldn't wear the same outfit they've been lying around the house in to attend tea at somebody's house. Fashion in this era was dictated by the clock and by the event diary of the wearer.

Ladies

Women of the upperclass would be expected to change at least six times a day. When she would rise for a morning of repose around the house, she would simply wear a house gown or a simple blouse and skirt. If planning a morning stroll, she would change into a walking suit which is a combination of blouse, skirt and jacket along with her hat usually of tweed. If running errands or paying a visit to friends, she would wear another walking suit. If riding, she would wear a riding habit and a hat. If hosting tea or taking tea in her own home, she would change into a tea gown with is a lighter more airier gown more comfortable for chilling in. If attending a garden party, one wears a pastel or white formal day gown accompanied by a straw hat and gloves. For dinner, she would change into an evening gown which would be more elaborate and show off a little more skin than her day wear. After dinner and ready for bed, she would change into her nightgown.

Female servants had an easier time of it. A housekeeper and lady's maid would simply wear a solid black gown for the entire day. A cook and kitchen maids would wear a simple day dress for working with an apron. Housemaids would usually wear a print dress with an apron and cap, changing into the more formal black and white attire you would associate with a maid.

Gentlemen

The gentlemen had an easier time but they too were subject to changes throughout the day. Men were expected to wear a suit. The most popular day time suit was a sack suit. These were comprised of plain and loose fitting jackets, worn over a starched shirt with a high collar, waistcoat and straight trousers with ironed creases. These suits were exclusively wool with cheaper ones made of a wool and cotton blend. Grey, green, brown, navy were usual but sine younger men preferred louder colours such as purple which was a trend for a time in the 1910s. These suits were worn about the house or in the city accompanied by a coat. Men would change into tweed if shooting or walking. For garden parties, a gentleman would wear a light coloured suit, usually white and a straw hat. For dinner, a man had two choices: his tails or his dinner jacket. A dinner jacket was for less formal suppers say if dining at home. This was a collection of a jacket, trousers, waistcoat, a bow tie, a detachable wing-collar shirt and black shoes. Lapels of these jackets were edged with silk or satin. Tails were worn at a formal dinner party, at White Tie events. This was made up of a tailcoat, white piqué waistcoat, a starched dress shirt with a pique bib and standing wing collar with a white bow tie. Trousers were lined with trim to hide the seams.

Male servants were soared changing. Footmen would wear their livery around the clock which would resemble white tie to a certain extent or mimic court dress of palace servants. Butler's would wear a variation of a gentleman's evening suit throughout the day. When a male servant is dressed, he usually stays that way. However, a valet or a footman may be taken to pick up during shooting parties where they would wear tweed walking suits.

Jewellery

Jewellery was an important sign of status in society. Upperclass women of this time has access to untold caches of sparklers but there were rules concerning their use and meaning. Earrings were usually clip ons as women of high status would not pierce their ears. Simple, understated earrings were worn during the day with more ostentatious sets were worn in the evening time. Broaches were popular at this time, usually worn at the throat of a gown or blouse or walking suit or affixed on hats. Large stoned rings were worn over gloves while slender bands were worn under. Jewellery was intricate and understated amongst old money whole the nouveau riche went for chunkier stones and larger settings. Tiaras were only worn at White Tie events, held after six pm and almost never by unmarried girls. One would not wear a larger tiara than that most senior lady present. Men would wear tie pins, cufflinks and pocket watches to match any occasion be it for a jaunt on the town or at a formal evening party.

Hats

Hats were a staple in this period. Anybody respectable from any class wouldn't venture out of the door without a hat.

Men would wear hats when heading out but always remove them when entering a building, and never wear one without removing it for the presence of a lady. The bowler was seen as more a servant's headwear while a top hat was reserved for gentlemen. Flat caps would be only seen on gentlemen at shooting gatherings or in the country, they were popular among the common class for any informal occasion.

Women had more stricter rules concern hats. Hats for women were more a day accessory worn while out and about. A woman would not wear a hat in her own home even when entertaining and nor would any of the other female occupants if joining the gathering. A woman would not remove her hat when attending a luncheon or tea or any activity. Hats were held in place by a ribbon or sash tied under the chin or by a hat pin, which is essentially a large needle thrust through the hair. This was the period where women's hats became more ornate and rather large, leading to some critisism. Among servants, housekeepers and lady's maids would not wear a hat while indoors and working but a housemaid or cook or kitchen maid would cover their hair with a cap with housemaids changing into a more elaborate one come evening time. Male servants would not wear hats unless travelling or outdoors.

Gloves

Gloves are a staple in this period and worn only at the opportune time. Among servants, only footmen would wear gloves and usually only when serving. Butlers would never wear gloves. Female servants did not wear gloves.

Men did wear gloves, usually woollen or leather while outside or riding gloves when out on horseback.

Women wore gloves whenever outside. Day gloves were usually wrist length, with evening gloves stretching to the elbow. During dinner, evening gloves would be removed at the first course and laid across the lap, replaced at the last course when the ladies leave for tea and coffee after where the gloves are then removed again. Gloves are always worn when dancing and at the theatre or opera. If one is sitting in ones box and sampling some chocolate, one can remove their gloves for that.

Hair and Makeup

Make up was a no-no amongst the upper crust and for their servants in England and America, as it was seen as licentious but in France, the use of rouge was accepted. Perfume and cologne were acceptable but excessive use was frowned upon.

Hair was dressed by one's lady's maid. Bouffant updos were popular in this time period for married women. During the last years of this period, women began adopting the 'bob' but this was seen as radical and sometimes scandalous. Unmarried girls could wear their hair down, often with accessories like a bow to adorn their tresses. Servants would always tie up their hair and never be seen with it down or uncovered (though this depended on their job).

Men would comb their hair, slicking it back for dinner. Most men were clean shaven but if they wore beards, they were usually well groomed. Hair was kept short for grown men and teenagers but young boys may wear their hair longer whilst in the nursery.

[sunfyre-targaryen]

i'm having fun making moodboards and since @zaldritzosrose created wonderful dividers about the great houses of asoiaf, i'd like to do more based on her dividers, so i can also share with y'all her talent!

i'd like for you to choose which one is next. i already did house targaryen and house hightower.

[wanderingmadscientist]

A Faction Paradox film was discussed by Lawrence Miles and a representative of a Warner Brothers subsidiarity in 2003. The representative had obtained an early copy of Political Animals from Image Comics and expressed interest in obtaining the rights to consider a film adaptation of the story. However, Miles had learned just earlier that day that the comic's third issue had been cancelled, and the representative lost interest after Miles described the story as "Amadeus with monsters".

Never forget that we almost got a Faction Paradox movie. It would have probably sucked, true, but then we could have said that the reason it sucked was that the Great Houses had sent Chris Cwej to sabotage the movie.

[pl9090]

Humanity's Irrelevance I bypassed the posting processing error with a screenshot version. It'll be replaced with a proper text post when possible.

[theartofmischief]

ACOTAR Courts as ASOIF Houses

Okay so I'm going to do this little series where I compare acotar courts to respective A Song of Ice and Fire houses. So first off the bat (hehe) is the night court.

I feel like this one is pretty straight forward but the night court reminds me the most of the targaryens.

Similarities:

Targaryens have always been regarded as the most powerful house, and the night court has been known to covet power

The existence of Illyrians kind of reminds me of dragons

Lilac eyes of the Targaryens, Rhysand has violet-ish eyes

The Mor-Azriel-Cassian debacle reminds me of visenya, aegon, and rhaenys (with mor being aegon in this scenario)

Also truth teller = dark sister

Let me know your thoughts x and tag me if you also want to do this series with connecting courts to different houses!

[fashionbooksmilano]

Great Houses Modern Aristocrats

by James Reginato

Photographs by Jonathan Becker, Foreword by Viscount Linley

Rizzoli Int., New York 2016, 256 pages, Hardcover, ISBN 978-0-8478-4898-0

euro 70,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

This stunning book presents the intriguing stories and celebrated histories of some of the leading families of Great Britain and Ireland and the opulent residences that have defined their heritages. The history of England is inextricably linked with the stories of its leading aristocratic dynasties and the great seats they have occupied for centuries. As the current owners speak of the critical roles their ancestors have played in the nation, they bring history alive. All of these houses have survived great wars, economic upheavals, and, at times, scandal. Filled with stunning photography, this book is a remarkably intimate and lively look inside some of Britain’s stateliest houses, with the modern-day aristocrats who live in them and keep them going in high style. This book presents a tour of some of England’s finest residences, with many of the interiors shown here for the first time. It includes Blenheim Palace—seven acres under one roof, eclipsing the splendor of any of the British royal family’s residences—property of the Dukes of Marlborough; the exquisite Old Vicarage in Derbyshire, last residence of the late Dowager Duchess of Devonshire (née Deborah Mitford); Haddon Hall, a vast crenellated 900-year-old manor house belonging to the Dukes of Rutland that has been called the most romantic house in England; and the island paradises on Mustique and St. Lucia of the 3rd Baron Glenconner. This book is perfect for history buffs and lovers of traditional interior design and English country life.

22/02/24

[thienvaldram]

Gallifreyan House Lore – Forgotten Lives

The Doctor is from ‘The House on the Mountain’ (The House of Lungbarrow)

The Holmes Doctor is housed in a place called the Sequester. He works for some kind of Time Lord interventionist group, the name is never specified.

The Houses mentioned are Gloaming, Cockrow, Brightening, Noon, Decline and Aurora. These seem to be the houses directly involved in whatever organisation Holmes is a part of.

Cockrow, Brightening and Noon are ‘The Daylight Houses’ and are poorly acquainted with the organisation, only rarely showing up, meanwhile Gloaming, Decline and Aurora are the ‘Night Houses’.

The Daylight Houses held no sway in Holmes’s trial and were merely there for court protocol.

House Gloaming are science oriented and prefer not to show up despite their dominance in favour of research.

House Decline is said to be ‘The Doctor’s House’, indicating the names used at the Sequester are probably codenames. With Decline being Lungbarrow.

Decline is said to have produced their ‘fair share of renegades’.

House Aurora is ‘Morbius’s House’, (Dvora?). They are one of the less influential houses in this era. A decent amount of them are said to have defected when Morbius did.

The Sequester seems to be a CIA predecessor. So I’m guessing Time Lord agencies go.

Founding of The Mathematical Bureau

Division disappear off the map to do whatever their own thing is

The Unity forks from new more radical members of the Addition (The start of the Broken Generation) like the Magus.

Morbius rises to power as Imperator and becomes President

The Unity defects to Morbius when the Civil War kicks off

The Sequester is set up to help fight the Civil War, the Holmes Doctor is drafted into it after returning to the Homeworld freshly regenerated (as per Harper’s final story in FL3)

The Civil War ends

The Doctor regenerates and escapes the Sequester.

The War Chief Incident, the Sequester is retooled into the Celestial Intervention Agency.

[winter2468]

The thing is that Paul could have married Chani. By the end of Dune, Paul claims to be fully culturally Fremen, and in Fremen culture, men can take more than one wife. No Fremen would have raised an eyebrow at Paul marrying both Irulan and Chani...

But the Great Houses would.

An argument could be made for Paul marrying Irulan and not Chani because his marriage needs to be political and having another, Fremen, low-born wife might jeapordise that, but it’s not like he ever has much time for Irulan’s thoughts and feelings, and his political position at the end of the book is pretty secure. Sure, a second wife would be an insult to Irulan, but not much more than the fact the he ostensibly kept a lover while it was known that he never even touched Irulan.

It’s also interesting that marrying Chani is something that doesn’t even occur to Paul in his internal monologue. It’s never an option in his mind. Paul thinks monogamously. For all that he claims to be culturally Fremen, when it comes to marriage, he still thinks and acts more like a nobleman of the Landsraad.

[doctornolonger]

The Cartmel Masterplan

The Actual Text, Posted Online for the First Time

A generous friend has shared with me the full text of “Gallifrey: Notes on the Planet's Background” – Andrew Cartmel, Ben Aaronovitch, and Marc Platt’s original outline of their masterplan for the Doctor’s origins – as printed in Virgin Books’ 1996 Doctor Who: A History of the Universe. Please see also Lance Parkin’s explanatory footnote and my commentary beneath!

The planet Gallifrey, world of the Time Lords in the constellation of Kasterborous, is one of the oldest and most powerful oligarchies in the universe. Its political and scientific influence is prevalent throughout the cosmos. But it is a world apart. Its power is substantially used for observation rather than involvement. Over the millennia, its self-imposed isolation has made it a staid and decaying society, obsessed with its own self-importance and tradition. It was not always so…

Ancient Gallifrey in The Old Time or The Dark Time, the Time of Chaos, was a world of both questing endeavour and dark superstition. It was the heart of a space-faring Empire, the hub of trade and commerce between other worlds. But the Gallifreyans were a race cursed with communal telepathy. The majority of the populous shared each others’ minds and thoughts. No mind was alone. The superstitious people worshipped the Menti Celesti – literally, heavenly minds – who were the free-thinking Gods.

By training or natural ability, some Gallifreyans could achieve private thoughts: an individuality above the mass mind of the general populous. They became revered Heroes: great philosophers, scientists and explorers, much in the style of the Greek Heroes, renowned for their deeds and derring-do.

Ancient Gallifrey was governed by the line of Pythias, wise seer women, who saw the future. The Empire prospered under their rule, but for all its enlightened education and scientific advancement, their reign also encompassed barbarism.

Amongst the ideas and goods traded through the Empire, there were also slaves. A primitive Time Scoop was employed to import alien servants and gladiators for the Games enacted in the Death Zone. Such popular “entertainment” provided an outlet for the extremes of emotion that telepathic crowd behaviour could engender. Thus through a skilful mix of manipulation and superstition, the ruling Pythia was able to control Gallifrey and its Empire.

Rassilon, a high ranking Hero, saw that the stifling authority of the Pythias threatened Gallifrey’s true destiny as a supreme galactic power. He stood for the influence of Reason against the Pythian reign of superstition. His skills as a tactician had defeated an invasion of Vampires that threatened the whole galaxy. He knew that Gallifrey could not progress until the aimless telepathic abilities of the people were given purpose. With a group of supporters, he deposed the Pythia and set about the restructuring of all Gallifreyan society. This period of cultural renaissance became known as the Intuitive Revelation.

The followers of the Pythia fled to Karn and set up a quasi-religious cult as guardians of a flame fountain that distilled an Elixir of eternal life.

Rassilon undertook to reform Gallifreyan society and thus consolidate the planet’s supremacy. Aware of the corrupting influence of absolute power, he repeatedly rejected the offers of a coronation, announcing that he could not rule the planet alone.

The suicidal end of the line of the Pythias had one immediate and deadly effect on Gallifrey. The Pythia embodied the fertility of the planet, she was Gallifrey itself. As she took her own life, the last of the line cursed the planet in revenge for her overthrow. Gallifrey became a sterile world. There were no more children. Unborn babies died in their mothers’ wombs. Rassilon was forced to find an immediate answer, before the Gallifreyans became extinct.

Eager to hold Gallifrey to ransom, the Sisterhood of Kam offered the salvation of their elixir. But in the face of disaster, Rassilon was able to forge a fresh solution.

From the existing hierarchy of Gallifrey, a new social design was evolved. Power was shared through a High Council whose members represented the Chapterhouses of Gallifrey. Each Chapter comprised groups of the ancient Families of Gallifrey, of whom Rassilon saw the need for legislative control to stabilise dwindling population numbers.

It was decreed that each Family would have a genetic bank known as a Loom, from which a set quota of Family members would be generated. Bio-genetic engineering would allow the Gallifreyans to regenerate their bodies at the moment of death through a sequence of thirteen lives. At the end of the final life, when a Family member died, a new replacement member was generated on the Family Loom. Parents have not existed on Gallifrey since this time; all family members are Cousins to one another. (This makes the business of Susan being the Doctor’s granddaughter all the more intriguing…)

The Looms were installed in all Family Houses across Gallifrey. Each House was adapted as bio-architecture, programmed to serve and look after its incumbent family. These were living buildings invested with a low degree of sentient awareness, even encompassed in their furniture and fittings.

Families were headed by the most senior Cousin. One other was selected as a Housekeeper, an interactive medium between the Cousins and the living House itself. The House would become as much a part of a Family as its Loom or its Cousins; occasionally with frighteningly possessive results!

The Chapters had their own Academies whose leaders were appointed as Cardinals to serve on the High Council in the newly constructed Vatican-like Capitol. The “Civil Service” members supporting the Council were known as Ordinals. Below them came the plebeian classes, trained as skilled technicians and artisans.

As a symbol of power, Rassilon had the Matrix developed: a vast extra-dimensional panotropic computer net containing all the information amassed by Gallifreyan culture. It stored all research and postulation, and the mind of every dying Gallifreyan passed into its capacity. Thus it could predict the future and give judgement on the past. As such, the Matrix is Gallifrey, the essence of that planet and its culture. In many ways, the Matrix replaced the Pythia, if not in wilful delegation, at least as a living repository of all knowledge.

To achieve his reforms, Rassilon needed vast resources of energy. He found an ally in Omega, the chief of the scientific fraternity and also a Cousin of Rassilon. But while Rassilon was the practical strategist laying foundations for a new society, and Omega was the provider, there was a third, darker figure; an “Eminence Grise”, with whom power was shared in an inner sanctum before plans were laid for the judgement of the High Council.

His origins, birthplace, even appearance are an unrecorded mystery. He never served on the High Council. Some legends hint that he may not have been born on Gallifrey, others that he was endowed with powers far greater than either Rassilon or Omega, but he kept these veiled beneath the Gallifreyan shape he wore. How influential his role really was is uncertain. His presence as part of the Triumvirate has always been overshadowed by the myriad achievements of Rassilon and the martyrdom of Omega; he was known simply as “the Other”. Nevertheless, a minor festival known as Otherstide is annually celebrated in his honour.

Under the rule of the Pythia, experiments had started into time travel. Rassilon deemed their use of telepathy as a travel source to be dangerous, but still rationalised their basic concepts for his own experiments.

To develop time travel as a completely viable facility, Omega estimated that a preliminary energy source equal to a supernova was required. He developed a remote stellar manipulator device which would induce the controlled detonation of a star and channel the energy released back to Gallifrey. This device was known as the “Hand of Omega”.

The device succeeded in its task and Gallifrey acquired the energy source it needed, but Omega, who had gone to oversee the project himself, was lost in the supernova explosion. His sacrifice offered unlimited power to the Gallifreyans. They truly became Time Lords.

In their early days as Time Lords, the catastrophic destruction of the planet Minyos, whose inhabitants sought to emulate their “gods” the Gallifreyans, emphasised the need for radical change in Gallifrey’s role in galactic politics.

After Omega’s death, the remaining two-thirds of the Triumvirate set about consolidating Gallifrey’s position. Two courses were open to the Time Lords: to control the universe as supreme rulers; or to act as guardians, overseeing the natural development of time and space. Either way their own position had to be unassailable. Gallifrey itself had to be protected.

In an astonishing feat of engineering, Rassilon entered the black hole left by Omega’s supernova and sealed its vast singularity energy in an icon of power known as the “Eye of Harmony”. He brought the Eye back to Gallifrey and so balanced the existence of the planet against the colossal energy source of the black star. Gallifrey was now unassailable.

Ironically, the stabilising influence of the Eye of Harmony has surely affected Time Lord society as well. Over millennia, development has steadily ground slower and slower; Gallifreyan culture has become less adventurous, and more complacently staid. The people’s telepathic abilities have also dwindled. Rassilon’s legacy and laws still guide the Time Lords, but the meanings of many of his icons of power are now lost. (The line of Pythias also survives, not only on Karn, but in other offshoot manifestations – witness Lady Peinforte.)

Another product of the Intuitive Revelation was validium, a living metal, created as an ultimate defence for Gallifrey. The metal could think for itself, but in the wrong hands might act as a generator of destruction. It eventually proved itself too dangerous to be employed. Too many enemy forces were gaining access to the element and so the largest section was secreted away from Gallifrey in an asteroid where, it was hoped, it would be safe from interference.

While both Rassilon and Omega were virtually canonised, if not deified, there were no further records of the Other in any of the histories. Speculation says that he left Gallifrey altogether; legend says that he grew weary of being an all-powerful player at the chess game of the universe. Instead he longed to be a pawn on the board in the thick of the action. Common sense says that he retired quietly.

Footnote

This is virtually the whole of the text of a document ‘Gallifrey – Notes on the Planet’s Background (from ideas prepared for the Doctor Who TV series)’ by Andrew Cartmel, Ben Aaronovitch and Marc Platt. The document was written for Virgin, is dated 9.11.90, and comes to six and a half sides of A4 paper, including the coversheet. It outlines what fans have called ‘The Cartmel Master Plan’ – an attempt during the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth series on television to redefine the origins of the Doctor and that of the planet Gallifrey, to reintroduce mystery to the series’ basic set-up, and to suggest that much of what we had been told about the Time Lords and the Doctor had been deliberately fabricated (as such, it doesn’t answer all the questions it raises). On-screen the ‘Master Plan’ was mainly confined to a handful of obscure references (and a handful more that were cut before broadcast).

The document embraces concepts from The Deadly Assassin, Silver Nemesis, The Five Doctors, State of Decay, The Brain of Morbius, The Invasion of Time, Arc to Infinity, Trial of a Time Lord, Remembrance of the Daleks (and Ben Aaronovitch’s novelisation of his story), The Three Doctors, Underworld, The Time Monster and Planet of the Spiders, as well as two unmade Marc Platt stories, Cat’s Cradle and Lungbarrow. A number of the New Adventures have adopted ideas from the document, including the first two novels by Platt and Aaronovitch, Cat’s Cradle: Time’s Crucible and Transit.

The last half-page of the document outlines the Doctor’s link to his planet’s ancient history and explains the origins of his granddaughter, Susan. It must remain a secret – for the moment at least. Anyone speculating about the contents of this last page ought to bear in mind that the Virgin Writers’ Guide categorically states that ‘The Other is not the Doctor’.

Commentary

With the exception of my italicized note at the top, everything above came from Doctor Who: A History of the Universe, and everything below is written by me, the blogger. Thank you again to my brilliant and talented friend – the Other to my Rassilon – who shared with me the pictures of the above!

A few thoughts based on the above:

As Parkin’s footnote points out, A History omits the last half-page of the original text, which explained Susan’s origin and the Other’s reincarnation into the Doctor. Since A History was released in May 1996, almost a full year before Lungbarrow gave these answers, it makes sense that this part was redacted. But if the details of the First Doctor’s rescue of Susan were written as early as 1990 and known to Virgin’s authors from the start of the New Adventures, how did we end up with the conflicting description of her rescue in Cold Fusion?

Much of this content clearly ended up in Cat’s Cradle: Time’s Crucible, as Parkin’s footnote mentions: the Gallifreyan Heroes, the Pythia, her suicide and curse, etc. (Presumably Lungbarrow just as faithfully adapts the material from the omitted half-page.) But I’m not particularly clear what Transit has to do with it! Was this just Virgin Books plugging their own content, or did I miss something major?

Just as in Time’s Crucible, the authors follow the explanation of Looms by explicitly pointing out the apparent contradiction with Susan calling the Doctor “Grandfather”. Hopefully this will finally kill the longstanding rumor that Looms are bad because they contradict An Unearthly Child: the creators knew exactly what they were doing.

I was clearly incorrect the other day to assert that “no source has actually linked Omega’s star with the Eye of Harmony”! Not only is this explicit in the Masterplan, it’s also mentioned in The Infinity Doctors. Mea culpa!

The Eye of Harmony’s “stabilising influence” being the cause of Gallifreyan societal stagnation was never explicitly explored or stated anywhere in the Doctor Who stories that followed, but it did manifest through the concept of the Anchoring of the Thread in the Faction Paradox series. The Book of the War didn’t merely copy Platt’s “Great Houses” language, it fulfilled parts of the Masterplan that other authors had neglected.

I knew that Quences identified his title as “Ordinal-General” in Lungbarrow, but I’d never caught the Cardinal / Ordinal pun. Too good!

Similarly: I am increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that “Celestis” is clearly a plural noun for “Celesti”, which means I’ll have to rethink all of my grammar 😟

Please let me know your thoughts!

[eraenaa]

Birthday Present

Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader

Synopsis: During a state visit, you, a daughter of one of the great houses, have captured the attention and fatal attraction of the Na-Baron and were quickly turned into his promised wife. 

Warnings: ¿Enemies to Lovers-ish?, Arranged Marriage, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Blood Play, Fingering, Choking, Violence, Murder , Over Stimulation, Not Proofread

Word Count: 5,900 (pls bear with me)

Finally watched Dune: Part Two and needed to make a quick little fic because another psychopath to obsess over with has been unlocked.

You dreaded for this day to come. You begged your father and brother to just leave you in the safety and comfort of your home, but still, they insisted— practically forced you to join them in the business venture they will partake in Giedi Prime. You walked out of the royal ship with your brother by your side, trying hard not to let the frown slip your face, especially when your fine dress had lost its color due to the planet’s black sun. Your eyes trailed around those who were present as a welcoming party for your kin, “Why are they all bald?” You whispered to your brother, who could not help but snort a laugh at your question. It was unnerving to look at them; no warmth nor life was evident. You were escorted inside the palace and it was barely different from the outside, still bleak and dark and plain. 

You feel curious eyes trail you as you walk with your family, who are being escorted to meet Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. You clenched your jaw and held your breath as you were met with the head of House Harkonnen. You heard tales about him and his state, but none could prepare you enough to be met with him face to face. If you had thought his subjects were already unnerving to look at, you would gladly give up the gift of sight just as long as you no longer had to see nor remember the image of the gruesome Baron. You quickly planted your eyes on the ground, having looked enough at the man who floated about in the middle of the room that you had missed the way that dark blue eyes were planted steadily on your frame. 

“Welcome to Giedi Prime, your Grace,” You hear the Baron greet your Duke father, and you stay silent and hope that they would be quick with the pleasantries and let you retire to rest after the long journey to their dreary planet. You hear the baron address your brother, making him step forward, and you pray for your presence to be ignored, but alas, your name was called, and you feel all eyes upon you. “A beauty this one is, your grace… she looks just like her mother,” The Baron mussed, and you could only offer a tight smile at his praise because you had no recollection of what your mother looked like because the price of your life was hers. You backed away and took your place next to your brother once more as the Baron began to introduce his kin. 

“My nephews, Glossu Rabban,” the baron introduced, and your brother nudged you to raise your gaze and show your host respect and recognition. You did as told and locked eyes with the dark blue orbs that had been entranced upon you ever since you entered the throne room. “And Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You swallowed thickly and turned stiff as the heir to House Harkonnen stepped down and walked toward your direction. Your linked arms with your brother tightened as the Na-Baron paused before you, bowing and taking your hand into his cold ones before placing a kiss on your knuckles. Feyd-Rautha wanted to smirk at the wide-eyed and blushing state he placed you in. The only greeting you gave him was a quick curtsy and a mumble of “My Lord,” The Na-Baron returned to his place at the right hand of his uncle and kept his gaze tranced on you. 

“How long are we to stay here?” You asked your father as he and your brother escorted you to your chambers. “Until the treaties are settled,” your father replied, and you scrunched your nose as the eyes of Harkonnen subjects followed you wherever you went. “They’re all staring at you,” Your brother mumbled, noticing the curious gazes as well. “Maybe they haven’t seen anyone with color or hair yet,” You distractedly said as you looked behind, the pair of dark blue eyes still haunting and following your every move. “Did I really have to come here?” You asked your father with a frown. “Yes. We could not leave you alone for an extended period— what will happen if our planet suddenly goes to war and you were there, left alone?” Your father asked, his protectiveness shining through. “Then I’d be surrounded by our army and best warriors.” You replied and earned a stern look from your father. “What am I even supposed to do here?” You grumbled and ceased by the door of your guest chambers. “You can explore the planet— do some sightseeing.” He answered, but that only severe your frown. “Sightsee what? Everything here is either black or gray— either bleak or depressing” You said, making your father sigh. “Just get ready for dinner,” He said, and you gave up on fighting them and their decision to drag you to the planet. 

A knock sounded out in your barren chambers. You understood that the palace was pushing some kind of aesthetic, but they took it to an extremity. There was literally just a bed and an armchair in your chambers. A very stark difference from your own room or even the guest chambers in your planet’s palace. Your handmaid opened the door whilst you looked at yourself in the mirror; you were to be escorted by your brother and were expecting him by the door, but hearing the gasp from your handmaid told you otherwise. You looked toward the chamber room door and saw the Na-Baron standing by its threshold; your maid stood by the side, head hung low, and was quietly trembling in fear. 

“Can we help you, Na-Baron?” You asked and smoothened the fabric of your gown. Trying your best not to appear unnerved by his dark gaze or his imposing demeanor. “I am to escort you to the dining room, my lady,” He said and offered his arm for you to take; you made no move to do so. “Oh…my brother was—“ you slightly frown as he cuts you off. “He is already there with your father,” He said, and you licked your lips and hesitantly nodded, having no choice but to take his offer to escort you. 

Feyd eyes curiously at the gown you fashioned and the decorations in your hair. You were a deep and vivid contrast between him and his planet. Your dress made of velvet trained behind you, the heavy and overflowing cloth cutting through the silence between you and the heir of House Harkonnen. You did not know if you should converse with him or just remain silent. And if you did choose the former, what topic of conversation would you even propose to the fearsome— psychotic warrior that is the Na-Baron? 

“How are you finding Giedi Prime, my lady?” His deep and raspy voice cut through the silence, and you thought of an embellished reply that would not offend the warrior. “Different… I— it is most unique, Na-Baron,” You manage to say after a short while, Feyd noting how you struggled to give a kind reply, your brows in a furrow, and your lips would open and close as you thought of what to say. 

You finally could breathe freely, and your stiffened form turned lax when the Na-Baron escorted you to your seat next to your brother and let go of his hold on your hand. You tried your best to keep your gaze away from any of the Harkonnens as you feared they would immediately see the fear and agitation in your eyes. “Is this human?” You lowly whispered to your brother, poking the cut of unidentified meat on your plate. Feyd smirked to himself as he heard the fear in your voice— overly wary, and it would seem the tales of their house had been implanted in your pretty little head. “It is cattle, my lady… but if you do prefer human flesh, our cooks could arrange that for you,” Feyd-Rautha relished at how your eyes widened and your cheeks blossomed with color once more. It was an interesting reaction that he had never been accustomed to see. “No, this is fine,” You quickly said and did not miss the amused smirk on the Na-Baron’s pale lips. 

The following day, you were set to tour around the planet with your brother along with the Na-Baron. You three had just stepped out of the palace and into the light of the black sun when your brother was suddenly summoned to attend the negotiations. You took a sharp breath and turned to your sibling, widening your eyes and silently willing him not to leave you alone in the presence of the Na-Baron. Your brother could only shrug and place a quick, chaste kiss on the top of your head as he ran back inside the castle walls. 

An awkward and uneasy silence followed you and your host as the tour began. Guards following the both of you in the direction of a large structure— that is as specific as you can get as the resident of the planet has still said no word as to where he was leading you. 

“This… is the arena,” the Na-Baron finally said, and you could hear the delight in his tone as if the brutal and triangular infrastructure had brought him calm and serenity. You nodded your head and wandered your eyes upon the high walls and countless seats that surrounded you. “You shall return here soon enough, a special celebration to take place in a few days,” You hear him say as your gaze was still stuck high above where you were guessing private boxes were placed. When Feyd did not hear your reply, he stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on your waist, making you jump in shock and quickly step away. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He asked. He usually was quiet, only speaking when he thought it necessary and the silence he provided brought an additional sense of mystery to him. But with you… he could not restrain himself as he felt the want— the need to speak. An urge he had never had before, an urge he could not control. 

“I prefer more to listen, my lord,” you answered, a white lie on your lips. You love to talk and blab about anything and everything, but you just did not want to exercise such habits with or around him, fearing he’ll grow annoyed by your yapping and slit your throat— a habit you heard he was fond of. You heard the Na-baron hum, and you avoided his gaze as he stared you down, as if trying to deduce if what you had said was the truth.

You followed the Na-Baron as he led you to more sights and structures that the Harkonnens take pride in. But everywhere you two went, you could not be rid of the curious and wondering gazes that followed. It was not a new scene; being a duke’s daughter meant you had been accustomed and exposed to the public. But being exposed and stared at and gawked at by people so different than you felt entirely unnerving. It made your skin crawl and your body tense uncomfortably. Your once proud and straight stature turned demure and small as you walked the dark and gray halls of the castle, you being the only thing of color and vividness in there, making you feel out of place and suffocated by the plainness.  

The Na-Baron escorted you back to the guest wing and paused by your door; you quickly curtsied and disappeared behind the metal doors to finally put some space and distance between you and the lord you had been forced to spend the day with. Feyd’s jaw clenched as the metal doors closed upon him; if it were anyone else, his patience would have run thin, and he would not looked kindly upon your impertinence. But even in your boorish actions, the Na-Baron could not help but find it amusing— possibly even endearing. 

As you were finished being prepared for yet another dinner, you turned to the doors once more at the sound of the opening, revealing your brother. “How was the tour?” He asked and sat by your bed as you stood in the mirror and adorned yourself with the precious metals and jewels. “When are we to leave? I… I would very much like to return home.” Was your reply as you still felt your skin crawl at how the eyes of the Na-Baron would asses you and your every move. “That bad, huh?” Your brother mused, and you sighed heavily. “I do not like it here, brother… I cannot… this place is entirely bleak and depressing.” You reasoned, and your brother only shook his head at your bellyaching. 

“They barely even have furniture! Their sun is black… there are no gardens or greenery and flowers to admire— I am quite literally the most vivid thing here!” You suddenly exploded, but your brother could only laugh. “Just a few more days, sister… we were most productive earlier. You’ll only have to endure this planet and its plainness for a few days more,” Your brother said, and you solemnly nodded your head, willing yourself to endure and be patient as your whole being wanted nothing but to return home. 

True to the Na-Baron’s words, you and your kin were in the triangular arena a few days later. A grand celebration for the birthday of the heir of House Harkonnen. Feyd-Rautha stepped out into the black sun and walked onto the pit with the screams and cheers of his house’s subjects. His eyes cast above and searched for only one being— an attention he seeks to be entranced upon him. The Na-Baron felt his lips curl wickedly as your eyes were upon him, seated in the royal box next to your brother. Your expression trying not to show contempt or disapproval. The Na-Baron was known for his skills in fighting— he is the greatest warrior there is. Everyone was impressed and in awe by his skills in combat, and he was certain that it, too, would impress you. 

You clenched your jaw and turned your head to the side as the Na-Baron was relentless in fighting the remaining members of House Atreides. You planted your gaze on your lap and fisted the fabric of your dress as you hear the land of steel and the grunts of prisoners. You took a deep inhale as your brother nudged you once more, urging you to watch the scene as it would be an offense if the Baron caught you ignoring the efforts of his favored nephew. You swallowed thickly and returned your eyes towards the men who fought; there was only one opponent now. 

Feyd-Rautha returned his gaze to you, delighting as you still had your eyes upon him. There was only one prisoner now, only one more man between him and the amazement he thought he would garner from you with his violent display. But as Feyd-Rautha set his eye on the final prisoner, his jaw ticked, and his hold on his blade tightened as he noticed that the Atreides prisoner was not drugged. He turned his spiteful gaze to his uncle, the vile man simply smirking and giving a nod of his head. Dark blue eyes flickered at you, who had her lip between he teeth in anxiousness. The Na-Baron squared his shoulders and refocused; he could not be made a fool nor a failure when the eyes of his planet were upon him— not when your eyes were upon him. As always, Feyd-Rautha emerged victorious in battle. 

“The slave wasn’t drugged,” Feyd said as he stood before his uncle, his form rigged still with the pestering feeling that he might have failed and been humiliated under your gaze. You tried to kill me?” he gritted out, but his uncle was merely amused. “Tonight, you are a hero… my gift to you,” The Baron explained, but that did not sedate the rage in the Na-Baron’s being. “I ought to drown you in that tub,” he snarled, but his uncle chuckled at his threat. “Don’t be hasty… I have another gift for you,” that piqued Feyd’s interest. “A bigger one,” his uncle added. “The girl, the duke’s daughter.” With just the mention of you, the Baron noted the quick shift in his nephew’s temperament. Desire shining through his rage. 

Feyd’s lips staggered as he thought of a reply, as he thought of how his uncle was able to acquire you for him as if you were some mere whore and not a daughter of one of the great houses. “Her father approved?” He asked and saw as a smirk rose to the lips of his uncle. “He had no choice but to… if he wanted the treaties to take place and for war to not come to their planet— he must offer his daughter to you.” Feyd let a rare and sincere grin slip his lips with the thought of you being bound to him. 

By the guest wing, an ugly discussion was taking place. “Father, you cannot be serious,” You all but cried, “To that psychotic Na-Baron!?” You screamed with tears streaming down your face. You knew it; you knew coming to Giedi Prime was a mistake— your intuition warned you greatly, but you ignored it and complied with your father’s wishes and orders. “There was no other way. I’m sorry,” Your father sighed and tried to take hold of you to calm you down. “You would leave me here to be his bride? You would leave me here vulnerable in the desolate walls of these Harkonnens?” You cried in pain, but your expression turned confused as your father shook his head. 

“The Na-Baron, your betrothed, will be heir to Arakis… you shall stay and rule there with him.” You hear the hopeful tone in your father’s voice as he tells you that you will be the lady of the most coveted seat and planet in the universe. “You… you cannot do this to me— please do not do this to me, father, I beg of you,” You cried, only crying harder as your father took you into his arms and offered you his apologies once more. Nothing can be done; you were now promised to the fearsome and formidable Na-Baron. 

They arranged for you to acquaint yourself more with your soon-to-be husband. Servants of House Harkonnen escorted you to him, and you followed mindlessly, but your stomach pitted in fear as you realized you had been led to the Na-Baron’s chambers. Your lips agape, and looked behind to see the servants hurriedly shuffling out of the Na-Baron’s room. You felt yourself grow cold and the life in your face went pale. You cautiously looked around the chambers and saw three women by your right, dressed and styled differently than the servants. The presence of women used to always bring you comfort in uncertain scenarios, but the three present did not aid your raging fear. 

“What’s so special about her?” You hear one of them drawl to the other, and you feel your lips upturn in confused fear. “Such a pitiful thing… weak and so fragile, could not even stomach to watch our lord handsomely fighting those puny slaves,” You frown and finally turn to them, the three just as eerie and disturbing to look at as any of their people, maybe even more so. “So what does she have to be rewarded with our great master Feyd-Rautha?” A third girl asked, and that is when you realized what their roles were. They looked at you expectantly, trying to know what you possessed to be rewarded or punished with the title of the Na-Baron’s betrothed. “I do not know,” you began, “Perhaps hair? Or sanity? Take your pick.” You boldly replied and watched as their teasing and amused looks turned scathing and jealous. Before any of them could make another remark, the sound of the door opening and boots walking the floor echoed through the room. Your expression was hard as you watched the three girls lower their heads demurely and out of respect as their master entered. 

“Ah, my future wife… I see you have met my darlings,” You turned to your betrothed, a smirk on his lips and his dark eyes sickeningly delighted as he was in a room filled with women he was certain would bring him much pleasure. You licked your lips and crossed your arms across your chest, your gaze flying to the three women who brazenly insulted you just mere moments ago. “You whores,” You boldly stated and let a fleeting smirk fly to your lips as you heard them hiss at your true statement. “My darlings.” Feyd-Rauth corrected, defending his loyal pets. You hummed and nodded your head. Finally, matching the fiery gaze of the Na-Baron. Every second you held his gaze, Feyd felt himself tighten against his trousers. You had always shielded your gaze from him, never letting him stare deep into those enchanting and lively eyes, and now that he did, all he wanted to do was stare into them, watch as tears would form when he made you cry in pleasure. 

“I always thought whores are acquired after marriage, but I suppose the Na-Baron is always one step ahead,” You bitterly mused at the man across from you, expecting him to grow enraged as you called his ‘darlings’ whores once more. But instead of rage, you only saw the smirk on the Na-Baron’s lips widen. “Are you jealous, little wife?” He asked and threaded closer, you let a frown slip your pretty face and a scoff left your lips. “Do not call me that,” You gritted. “And no, I am not… in all honesty, I am relieved in their existence if it means that you would be preoccupied and far from me and my bed; you could have a hundred ‘darlings’ for all I care,”  You stood your ground no matter how your mind went alarmed at the murderous look on your betrothed’s once amused expression. 

You chewed your cheeks as the Na-Baron silently motioned for the three women to step closer. You thought he was testing you, to see if you were truly unbothered and not at all jealous that your future husband was being satisfied by other women, but you gasped in horror as Feyd-Rautha swiftly took his dagger and slit the throats of his three pets. They fell at your feet, and you could only watch and step back in horror at the scene of black blood pooling and spewing from their throats. You were trembling, and Feyd-Rautha took you into his arms, forcing your face to look at him, enjoying the horror in your eyes. “Now, nothing will keep me from you and your bed, wife,” he lowly whispered, and you were defenseless as he captured your lips. Hungrily kissing you and pulling you impossibly closer to him to feel the softness of your frame as blood flooded under your feet. 

All was quick to fall into place. One moment, it was announced you were to be wed to the heir of House Harkonnen, and the next, you were being prepared for the actual ceremonies. You felt bile rising and tears falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. A gown of white in the make and design of your home planet rather than the fashion of Giedi Prime. “You look beautiful, sister,” Your brother complimented quietly. He, too, turned solemn as he had no way to protect you from the arrangements made behind closed doors. “Let’s just get this over with,” You mumbled and took his arm for what you believed would be the last time. 

You were being escorted down the aisle by your father,  Feyd-Rautha’s eyes upon you impatiently; he could no longer wait any further and suffer through the ceremonies and banquets before he had you alone in his chambers. After your kiss two nights prior, you quickly left the chambers and left the Na-Baron to want and desire more. Each moment that had passed has left him hard and strained, with no other outlet for his needs to be quenched and met; his only choice was to wait for you to be his wife. 

It should shame you to admit, but the kiss you shared with the Na-Baron didn’t leave you disgusted. It was alarming to note that your body had turned warm, and throughout the night, your thoughts strayed to wanting more. You had been kissed before, once, but it was nothing compared to the way Feyd-Rautha kissed your lips. 

You stood by his side as a man in front spoke in a language you could not comprehend or understand. The only thing your mind could focus on was the way the Na-Baron’s hand held yours. Cold and calloused palms enclosed around warm and soft ones. You raised your gaze as the man in front of the two of you finally spoke words you understood, announcing to the room that you and the Na-Baron were officially husband and wife. You set your eyes upon Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes were on your lips. Letting go of your hand and taking hold of your face to kiss your lips without warning. It was a quicker kiss than the one shared the previous night, and you were dismayed yourself as your body wanted more, so much more. 

Feyd smirked as he saw color bloom onto your cheeks and felt its warmness against his cold touch. No word was exchanged as he escorted you through the aisle, the cheers of his subjects ringing loudly; absent were the reactions of you and your kin. You were still silent during the banquet, only offering a ghost of a smile when you two were approached and presented with ‘congratulations.’ You tried to ignore the way your body responded when your husband placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze now and then through the fabric of your gown. “You look ravishing, my darling,” You hear him whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine. 

“Do not call me that,” you gritted as you had no wish to share an endearment he used with his whores. Feyd smirked as he believed that heard a hint of jealousy in your honey voice, “And what would you like to be called, wife?” He asked, and you clenched your jaw and thighs as that brought a surprising twist in your core. Your reaction was not missed by the Na-Baron, a wicked smirk spreading to his lips and his hand inching higher from your thigh. “Tell me, wife… are you too as excited as I am for the bedding?” He teased and nipped your ear, making you gasp, turning to him with shock and wanting-filled eyes. Your eyes shifted from his dark blue orbs to his plush lips, and the desire for it to be against you became increasingly prominent. You gulped as his eyes turned impossibly darker and his jaw clenched, you took a sharp intake of breath as he abruptly stood. “The feast is finished, leave.” That was all he said before he urged you to stand and dragged you to his chambers. 

You were like putty in his arms as he pushed you up against the cold wall of his chambers. Your lips roughly danced against each other, and his hands hiked up your wedding dress, leaving fire with his cold touch. For days, you had convinced yourself you felt no attraction to the man who had his lips on you’re neck and hand against your cunt. “You are a great actress, wife. Making me believe you hated me— wanted nothing to do with me, but that cannot be true, not when your cunt is so wet and ready for me.” You gasped as he inserted his finger inside you without warning— the feeling foreign, and you did not know if you should embrace the uncomfortability or the prospect that pleasure was quick to bloom. “So tight… my little wife had never been defiled— that shall change,” He mused against your lips, swallowing your whine when he inserted another finger inside your wet cunt. 

“M-My lord,” You cried at the curl of his finger; you heard him ‘tsk’ and rub his thumb against the sensitive bundles of nerves on your cunt. “Enough with the formalities. I am your husband, and you will call me by my name— you will scream my name when you come.” Your eyes rolled back as his other hand clasped around your neck, your husband thrilled and overjoyed as you only clenched tightly around him, and a pleasured moan slipped past your lips. He thought he’d have to be gentle with you— that he would scare you with his savage desires, but as he felt you cling and clench to him as he added more pressure around your throat, he knew you would be able to take and would be grateful for his brazenness in fucking. 

“Feyd… Feyd!” You cried as you felt your thighs tremble and your core painfully twists in want of release. You whined and cried as you felt his fingers slip out of you, your knees weak and your body desperate for release. “Patience, little wife,” Your husband cruelly mussed, his eyes locked upon you as he licked the essence of you clean from his fingers. You moaned as his lips met yours again, tasting yourself as his tongue teased yours. You whimpered as he placed his rough hands tights on your hips, imprinting his mark and making it known to you that he was yours. You groaned as he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, him pulling away to admire the red the beaded on your plump, sweet lips. “Such a pretty color…” he murmured and bought his finger to wipe away the blood and taste it, you growing more aroused as a rumble emerged from his throat. Feyd watched as more blood dripped from your lips, and he wasted not a drop of it, kissing and tasting all of you. 

Feyd moved the two of you to his bed, pushing you down on the soft, silk-coved mattress. You swallowed thickly as he took out his dagger once more, a grin on his lips as he saw a speck of fear in your eyes. “Such a beauty you look in this dress… but I know you’ll look better without it,” He took the dagger and cut through your fine gown, nicking your stomach on the way. Feyd zeroed in on your sweet blood once more, his eyes hungrily taking in your body that was now exposed to him. “Oh…” You moaned as his tongue soothed the cut he made, his tongue teasing you as it would thread lower but would return to the cut every time it oozed blood. “Feyd… please,” You finally relinquished and let your needs be known. He hummed as his cock grew harder at your moans. 

“What do you want, little wife?” he hummed and took a deep breath of your scent. You whined as his tongue teased your navel, and his lips threaded further south but quickly moved north again. You moaned as his black teeth gently bit your bosom, his cold hand pawing at the other, your nipples taut by his cold hand and hot tongue. “Tell me, little wife, what do you want?” You whimpered again as nipped your skin once more, “You. I… I want you,” You finally said and yelled when Feyd flipped you to your stomach. Anticipation sat heavily as you heard him shuffling to remove his clothing. You breathed harshly as you felt his hands on your behind, kneading the smooth, plump flesh; his thumb teasingly brushed your cunt, and you were quick to moan. 

“What did you want again, my pretty wife?” He hummed by your ear, his toned body pressing against your back, his throbbing cock resting on your derrière. “You, I want you. Please, Feyd… I— please just fuck me,” You cried and let go of any pride you had in exchange for feeling pleasure. You howled as his thick and large length pushed its way inside you. Feyd hissing as the tip of his cock was being squeezed by your cunt. You were wet, galaxies, you were wet. But not wet enough for your husband’s cock to slip inside comfortably. Friction and resistance were prominent, and Feyd enjoyed that tremendously. Excruciating pain first had to be felt before you could feel the pleasure that you were desperate for. 

You gasped and felt tears rim your eyes as a cold hand found home around your neck again. “So fucking tight… all fucking mine,” Feyd hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you; his hand felt the trickle of pained tears, and he was determined to turn it into tears of pleasure. “Such a good wife taking all of me,” He praised and squeezed your neck tighter. You whimpered and raised your gaze, only now noticing that the wall that your husband’s bed rested upon was entirely reflective that you could see him in all of his glory. Knelt behind you and a pleasured expression on his face as he gradually moved his length in and out of you. 

It felt like eons before you finally felt pleasure, but when it finally came, it was the most blissful feeling you had experienced in your life. The way he harshly gripped your throat, the way that his lips would pepper kisses on your shoulders and back, was enough to quickly drive you into climax. One where you screamed and called for his name, begging him to slow down, but he did no such thing. Only increased his speed and moved his hand to draw circles upon your bundle of nerves, coaxing another climax from you, making you scream his name louder and your body over-sensitive. “Feyd, Feyd, no more, please,” You cried as your whole body was already exhausted and trembling. 

“I do not understand you, wife. Just earlier, you were begging for this… you were begging to be fucked by me.” He grunted as he, too, felt his peak to come. He moved his hands to bundle your hair, the texture so soft and foreign, his fingers running through the locks and pulling it to make you groan. “Such a perfect cunt, such a perfect wife. You will sire me many heirs… you will always be my side.” Feyd groaned as you squeezed his length tighter and tighter to the point he felt pleasurable pain. You hear his animalistic growl when he finally spills himself deep inside of you, watching through the reflective wall as his face contorted into sheer pleasure, his rasping voice repeating your name as you feel both of your essences drip on the inside of your thigh.

He moved your head for your lips to meet with his again, him biting down to draw blood once more. You pulled away and gasped for air as well as gasped in shock as you felt his once limped and just emptied length grow erect inside you. “Did you truly think we were finished?” He asked against your lips. “I’m going to fuck and breed you until you’re unable to walk, little wife.”

[a-wartime-paradox]

That time a YA Series crossed over with Doctor Who, and know we have solutions to who the Other, Yssgaroth, and Enemy are (2013) [Mimir Canon-Weld]

I was on the Doctor Who Discord Server (in the "canon-welding" channel) and @aristidetwain mentioned a short story called "The Nameless City", which was a crossover between Doctor Who and Michael Scott's Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel . Me and Ryan Fogarty then proceeded to Canon-Weld to regeneration.

This crossover featured the Archons from Scott's series, of which none are named in this crossover short, but in Scott's series three were named: Cernunnus, Coatlicue, and Mimir.

Cernunnus can obviously be can-welded to being @doctornolonger 's creation, Cernunnus the leader of the (original?) Mammoths.

Coatlicue was, within Scott's series, a scientist that turned herself into a monstrosity. According to the TARDIS wiki's "Behind the Scenes" section on the article "Archons (The Nameless City)", she is the "snake-like progenitor of all vampires", although I could not find any source for either the real-life Aztec god nor Scott's creation being either of these. If this were to be true, it allows for an obvious canon-weld with the King Vampires of the Yssgaroth.

"Out of her own DNA she created the original blood drinkers, who would eventually become your race. Coatlicue was the first vampire"

Now we come to Mimir, where things get crazy. In Norse myth, and in Scott's series, Mimir is mentioned to have "given knowledge to Odin". Of course, in my canon-welding mind, I see that literally any Head of the Gods is Rassilon Urizen the Architect. Who else is mentioned to have given Rassilon knowledge? The Other (PROSE: Lungbarrow). Hence, Mimir is the Other. This also fits with the "ancient being" origin for the Other. This means that the Great Houses were helped in development by a species that contained at least two notable members who would eventually become their worst enemies (Coatlicue/Yssgaroth and Cernnunos/The Enemy). The original short story The Nameless City says that the Archons created the seeds for the TARDISs timeships, and that Rassilon Urizen stole the seeds in a great war. This war, presumably, happened before the First War in Heaven / Yssgaroth War, due to the fact that the Great Houses do have timeships in that war. This also gives another motivator for the Yssgaroth in their War besides the Child-That-Was-Taken. The Archons are also mentioned to be the "last of the Old Ones, from the universe before this", but I normally interpret the "universe before this" to refer to the "time before this", i.e. the unachored universe. They also still have a homeworld, the titular Nameless City with the Great Desolation (presumably positioned outside normal spacetime, and I think the main Spiral Politic).

In conclusion, this canon-weld has resulted in a revised timeline (in my personal canon):

Before anything and everything

The Great Old Ones exist somehow.

Most of the Great Old Ones die off, or potentially construct their own Spirals, totally disconnected to the eventual Spiral Politic.

The shobogans are born on the planet Gallifrey

A group of the last Great Old Ones come together as the "Archons"

An order reminiscent of what the Great Houses will be are formed, and the Pythian Order leave Gallifrey (some going to the nearby planet Karn)

The Almost-Great Houses wage many wars against the peoples of the universe, especially the Archons.

Cernunnus creates many "mammoth empires" across the universe

Mimir, in an attempt to stop this devastating War, joins Urizen by his side, only to be remembered simply as "the other"

With the knowledge Mimir had granted him, Odin Urizen finally stole the timeship seeds the Archons had been growing, forcing them to surrender.

The Archons retreat to their own semi-anchored reality, the Great Desolation. Coatlicue presumably creates her own Spiral soon after this, spawning the Yssgaroth.

Tecteun discovers the Child-That-Was-Taken/Timeless Child under a "rift" (in reality one of the early anchors for the Anchoring of the Thread project, already being executed by Urizen). The other side of this rift could be presumed to be the Spiral Yssgaroth.

The Great Houses execute the Anchoring of the Thread, which immediately summons Coatlicue (the King Vampire) to their Homeworld, creating the caldera. The Yssgaroth War begins.

Blah blah blah Pre-War era, blah blah blah the War happens

[knightofthenewrepublic]

[ladyofthebears]

Okayyyy my eye looks kinda popped off outta no where (big ole smooch to @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly for reposting them cause thats when they popped off- thanks lovie 💕)

Sooo which look would you like to see next?

[pl9090]

.T.B.o.t.W. the enemy entry analysis

As always constructive feedback is welcome.

"On one side are the Great Houses, who might be considered the truely conservative forces of creation, occupying a position outside of normal time and attempting to maintain the status quo which has existed since the beginning of the Spiral Politics itself. But on the other side… who?". Elsewhere in the book were are told that: 1.The two sides oppose each other due to their very natures. 2.The Enemy is associated with Los from William Blake's mythology, the embodiement of human creativity and inspiration that opposes Urizen the embodiement of reason and law. 3.The Eye of Harmony which maintains the history meta framework is the enemy's prime target. It's fair to assume that the enemy opposes the Timelord's imposition of their history metaframework which it sees, (possibly to varying degrees for different reasons) as limiting. It's also stated that merely disabling the eye of Harmony supposedly leads to the destruction of all linear domains, (and thus cultures) that would mean that the reps as a whole were suicidialy devoted which doesn't come up anywhere else.

"expecting everyone to take the meaning as read". Possibly Timelord arrogance, (though partially justified given they defended the universe from at least Yssgaroth and the Racnoss albeit as the Book notes not entirely out of humanitarian reasons) but could also be valid if the destruction of all linear domains is the effect of the enemy's victory.

"Faraway Declaration, (only 35 years before the beginning of the War)". From their, (and the now presently linked posthumanity's) perspective the Timelords had 35 years to prepare. 35 years between The Faraway Declaration and Dronid/Destruction of Gallifrey 3, (Romana's).

"The enemy isn't a single species or even a distinct political faction". "though it has a leader, or at least a, "head" or, "founder" to focus on the leader would be pointless. The enemy is a process". Suggests that the enemy consists of two parts: a founder who became the coordinating leadership and the reps. It is pointless to focus on the leadership for the same reason that it's name is inadequate because it is the combination of the two parts together that makes it a threatening rival power not just the leadership alone, (however some references to the enemy seem to refer soley to the leadership). The process of opposing the Timelord's, "rule" of time and the imposition of history to varying degrees and different reasons.

"nor is it because the enemy has wiped it's name from history altogether, although that does seem like a viable war tactic". Suggests that the enemy's abilities include tempo-psychological warfare, (presumably with the Reps destroying any physical artifacts and computer records they came across while the leadership edited or erased records by some unknown possible innate method such as it did to Devonire's Kaiwair, "recording").

"To fully understand the nature of the enemy, it's vital to understand the context of it wich it exists. See also the: Churchill Index, Immaculata Formosii, the Gods of the ainu, Miss Hiroshima, Mohandassa, Sixth Wave Defections, S'tanim, and Violent Unknown Events". The missing entries by their nature and that they either directly relate to: the enemy, (ie: The Gods of the Ainu and S'tanim) and or their possible capabilities, (ie: Violent Unknown Events, Mohandassa, and Sixth Wave Defections).

I can't help but think I'm overlooking something obvious here.