#gwyn's firstborn

[knightscanfeeltoo]

I don't think NK would be So Stupid to Befriend Every Dragons he Meets, even when they look Threatening...

(Or Drakes too...)

[sadiegirl2021]

Eris has to be Gwyn’s grandfather! Why would SJM write all this for nothing?

That comment from Eris:

Eris glared. “Not as far as the firstborn, but yes, Rhysand.”

That comment from Gwyn:

My grandmother was a river-nymph who seduced a High Fae male from the Autumn Court.

Feyre meeting Eris, her flame recognising his (ACOWAR):

I felt it then—stirring awake as if some stick had poked it. As if being here, in this territory, amongst its blooded royals, had somehow sparked it to life, boiling past that poison.

Nesta meeting Gwyn, her power recognising her (unknown) flames:

A crackling sort of energy buzzed around her, and Nesta’s power grumbled in answer.

(How Feyre described her rising Autumn court flames - My blood heated, and I took a breath to cool it, to cool the magic crackling at the insult.”

Eris talking about the Made dagger - Eris sucked in a breath. Feyre said, “You can sense its power.” 

“There’s flame in it,” Eris said, not touching the dagger.)

We learn Lucien (and Eris) have a last name in ACOWAR:

Feyre - “Vanserra?”

Cassian - “You never knew his family name?”

When Gwyn tells Nesta her full name:

Unusual, for these Fae to use family names.

Eris to Cassian:

“Get that pitying look off your face,” Eris snarled softly. “I know what sort of creature my father is. I don’t need your sympathy.”

Gwyn to Nesta:

Gwyn marked the change. “I don’t need your pity.” The words were sharp, as clear as her teal eyes.

Eris and Gwyn can both scent people like smokehounds apparently:

Eris sniffed the night breeze. Then smiled. “She couldn’t be bothered to come inside to say hello?”

How he’d detected Mor’s lingering scent, Cassian didn’t know. Perhaps Eris and his smokehounds had more in common than he realised.

(Nesta) “How can you tell?” With their hoods on, they appeared nearly identical save for their hands.

“Their scents,” Gwyn said simply, and turned to the books she’d left on the cart.

Characteristics and Mannerism: 

Towering over me (Feyre talking about Eris)

Her full height, which was slightly taller than average for Fae females (Nesta meeting Gwyn)

His red hair glinting like fire

(Her) hair shining like molten metal

His hair shone like embers in the dappled light.

Faelight danced in the rich coppery chestnut of her pin-straight hair

Eris’s face filled with cool amusement.

The priestess’s eyes glittered with amusement.

Eris snorted.

Gwyn snorted.

But Eris shrugged a shoulder.

But Gwyn shrugged.

Earning a withering glare from Eris.

Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him.

He was not graceful like Eris.

As graceful as Gwyn had been.

Eris reached out a long, slender hand, letting the falling petals gather there.

With her slender, elegant limbs.

How did Eris know that?

Gwyn said, those teal eyes noticing too much.

(Eris) Was willing to be tortured to keep their secrets.

Gwyn went through her own torture to protect the children at the temple.

But though Eris’s angular features were handsome, no light shone in his eyes. No joy.

The priestess had been pretty in the library, but with that joy, that confidence as she aimed for the three priestesses, she had emerged into a beauty to rival Merrill or Mor.

[macel625]

Gwyn's Birth Lineage

I'm hoping her grandfather is Eris because his reaction was kind of suspicious when Rhys asked if he could go as far as taking Eris's firstborn and Eris seemed kind of freaked out by that

If Gwyn's mother was sent from the Forest House to Sangravah, did "Eris" ever visit her? Does he know about Gwyn and Catrin, but didn't do anything about it as for fear that Beron may find out?

As for her father, I believe he is from the Day Court because Gwyn has been seen glowing multiple times, and light is one of their main source of powers

We don't know where Sangravah is, but I saw someone say that it could be between the Day Court and the Night Court

Catrin, her twin, is described to have onyx hair

Helion is described as having onyx hair. I'm assuming that all his people may have onyx hair, too

It wouldn't have made sense if one of Eris's younger brothers turned out to be her grandfather. That would be useless as we don't even know their names, and they barely make an appearance, anyway

Plus, imagine if Eris was her grandfather and Azriel her mate. These two could have a chance to reconcile after what happened to Mor 🤷‍♀️

And, Gwyn may have inherited powers from both Autumn and Day, though I'm leaning more towards Day

[beesmygod]

the nameless king would be the defactor ruler of what's left of anor londo as gwyn's firstborn. the dragon he is partnered (👀) with in DS3 is "the king of the storm". your honor, i rest my case. he is gay for dragons and keeps marrying them

[lady-embers]

The fandom is so lucky to have you! We appreciate having you here and all that you contribute to it ❤️❤️

1. What brought you into the fandom?

2. What character(s) do you feel the most connected to and why?

3. Out of all of SJM’s books, which one means the most to you and why?

4. Out of all of the SJM couples (fanon, canon, endgame, etc) which one means the most to you and why?

Keep doing you ❤️

Awe! You are going to make me cry! 🥹 (Only happy tears, though) Thank you so much for the kind words!! I am so happy to be a part of this fandom with a lot of amazing, wonderful people 🫶

To answer your questions (and sorry this might be a bit long)

1. The TOG series did! But what brought me into the ACOTAR Fandom specifically was ACOSF. After reading it, I wanted to discuss my thoughts/opinions with others who've read the series. Since then, I've gained a lot of new, really good and close friends. I'm incredibly grateful that ACOSF brought me into this fandom 🥰

2. Gwyn and Nesta.

Gwyn, because I have SA trauma myself, and I've fought hard to get where I am today. I'm a survivor just like she is, and I won't let anything break me. Plus, I'm a coppery haired woman, so I feel connected to her that way as well.

Nesta, because I'm the eldest of my siblings. I've also put on an icy front to not let anyone get too close after all the trauma I've endured being the eldest sibling (because it's not easy being the oldest and all the expectations placed on one for being the firstborn), growing up poor, my SA trauma and everything else life has thrown at me so far. I relate a lot to the anger she had at the world and herself as well as feeling like I failed at times to protect my younger siblings.

3. This is a tough one, but ACOSF is the ultimate winner.

It healed me in ways I didn't expect. Nesta and Gwyn both had me crying because of our similar stories/feelings. Nesta story and the unexpected connection with Gwyn and her story, too, allowed me to grieve and heal parts of me I didn't realize still needed healing from. It especially hits me even harder on rereads since I lost my own mom not too long ago. Nesta healing from her father's death and not having the best relationship with him mirrored in a way my own relationship with my mom and the loss of her and grieving/healing from her abrupt passing.

4. Gwyn and Azriel.

Their potential story together would show SA survivors they can have a healthy relationship in and out of the bedroom and heal a lot of people who have been through what Gwyn has. Their story has the potential to show a lot of people who feel unworthy because of things they've done or had done to them that they are worthy of love and joy in their lives. Their story will show that even if you feel alone amongst a crowded room, there are people around you willing to be there, to help, and to love you as you are. That even on the darkest of days when hope seems lost, there is light to walk to. You just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and thinking, "I am the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break me."

[houseboywife]

The tale of the three Ornsteins: a Dark Souls identity theft story

Dragonslayer Ornstein is one of the most iconic characters in Dark Souls, and for a good reason. His design is incredible, and his fight in tandem with Smough is one of the best in the series to this day. It is therefore interesting to see how strangely handled is actual in-game presence his. I am perfectly aware that a lot of this is a result of somewhat inelegant retcons, but I will attempt to bridge all of the information together to paint a picture that I find to be, if not completely satisfying, at least consistent with what I believed happened to our good old dragonslayer.

Let's start with what we learn in Dark Souls 1, which is the most straightforward. Ornstein is a being of incredible strength as the leader of the Four Knights of Gwyn, Lordran's elite soldiers who are all unquestionably loyal to their Lord. Unfortunately, by the time of Dark Souls 1, the other Knights have either died or left, so he's left alone guarding the capital City of Anor Londo. He's however joined by his good buddy Executioner Smough: and by good buddy I mean insane psycho. Smough was considered as a candidate for the position of Knight of Gwyn, but the recruiters probably changed their minds after learning that he enjoys grinding the bones of people in his meals. Also, not a surprise, he really enjoys murder.

Anyway, the important point being is that Ornstein and Smough are guarding the chamber to Gwynevere, and fight you to the death if you want to go in. This begs a question: why exactly? Gwynevere is an illusion concocted by Gwyndolin, since she has left Anor Londo long ago. Hell, Gwyndolin is actively trying to get some poor sucker to link the fire, which would require you to get the Lordvessel, which is given to you by Gwynevere/Gwyndolin. Who also doesn't seem to be particularly concerned by the two strongest knights in the realm having just died.

So the main hypothesis is that Ornstein and Smough have been placed there by Gwyndolin to test you. After all the linking of the fire is a sacred act, and you'd wanna make sure that the person you send to do it would actually be able to: after all, as shown by Dark Souls 3, you can actually fail to link the fire. So perhaps, as I said, what Gwyndolin is doing is testing you: and I get using Smough for the task, considering that everyone hates him and he also is probably willing to prove himself to join the Knights, but Ornstein? At the twilight of the kingdom of Lordran, what use is there to having the strongest knight left sacrifice himself to test a random Undead? Well, hold on that thought. For now, let's just say that the Chosen Undead kills both and proceeds to link the flame, or walk away from it.

Back with a vengeance

So let's move on to Dark Souls 2 now. Here we are in Drangleic, a completely different land set after Dark Souls 1. Which makes it very strange that in that game you can find an "Old Dragonslayer", identical to Ornstein, chilling in a church.

Now, let's not beat around the bush here: this is probably an impostor (among us????). A couple things make it pretty clear: first off, instead of using lightning attacks he wields darkness, which doesn't mean much in itself: however the Soul that you get from this boss says that "the Old Dragonslayer is reminiscent of a certain knight that appears in old legends", I'm leaning towards him being just an imitator. After all, beings with Fire Souls (Is it even a thing? You get what I mean) aren't able to come back from death, and killing Ornstein is mandatory to the story of Dark Souls 1, which we know already happened by the time of 2. The only alternative is that the Ornstein in Dark Souls 1 was an illusion, but that would be a bit silly, right?

The Ornstein in Dark Souls 1 was an illusion

Well, uh, this is awkward. Dark Souls 3 comes in and, with extreme confidence, makes everything so much more confusing. This is becaus, after defeating Gwyn's firstborn, the Nameless King, you find none other than Ornstein's armor. But hey, it could be just a repli-

Golden armor associated with Dragonslayer Ornstein, from the age of gods, and imbued with the strength of lightning. In the dragonless age, this knight, who long guarded the ruined cathedral, left the land in search of the nameless king.

Uhhhh, let's check Smough's armor maybe?

Grotesque armor associated with Smough, the last knight to stand in defense of the ruined cathedral.

Well, at least now we know that the Old Dragonslayer was a faker????

Ok ok so, what happened? It seems like that, before the events of Dark Souls 1, Ornstein left his post to search for the Nameless King, and left Smough behind in Anor Londo. So well, the logical explanation is that the first one you fight is actually an illusion made by Gwyndolin. But! The "illusion" also drops Ornstein's own Souls behind. Now, this is a bit of a pickle.

Before I go further, let me clarify something: Gwyndolin is also a character you can kill in Dark Souls 1 that returns in Dark Souls 3, but his fight is optional, and likely considered non canonical in 3. After all, there are other characters you can murder that show up again, the difference is that Ornstein is as far from optional as you can get.

So let's entertain that the Dragonslayer is an illusion: why does he drop his Soul, then ? I have an idea of what could have happned. First off, in Anor Londo you fight sever other illusions fashioned by Gwyndolin that all drop souls upon death. This, to me, seems to suggest that our favorite god of ambigous gender can't just conjure something out of nothing: they need souls.

Here's another piece of the puzzle: in the Dark Souls universe you can totally detach at least part of your soul from your body and be none the wiser. We see this with Gwyn, who gave a portion of his Souls to the Four Kings and other loyal subjects, and with Vendrick who, perhaps in shame, locked his own Soul away in the Shrine of Amana before going hollow. So I believe that the most likely explanation is that Ornstein, before departing to find the Nameless King, left his Soul (or a portion of it) to Gwyndolin in order for them to fashion an illusory guardian out of his likeness. Smough was there too, I guess. Probably Gwyndolin just wanted to get rid of him. That makes everything work out, more or less!

So let's answer one last question. Why did Ornstein seek the Nameless King? I've seen some people say that he was loyal to him all along, and some particularly creative theories state that he transformed into the dragon that the Firstborn rides. I find this to be a somewhat unsatisfactory explanation. Particularly the dragon part, of course, because the only character we ever saw meddle in dragon transformation experiments was Aldia who is probably the smartest person in the entire world, and even he didn't really get it perfectly right. Also there is absolutely zero evidence of it. Regarding the rest, well, I suppose it would be possible that Ornstein was loyal to the Nameless King, but why? He is a dragonslayer, after all, and the King was cast away specifically for having betrayed the gods in favor of the dragons (as a sidenote, the fact that the Ring of the Firstborn in Dark Souls 1 is slightly mistranslated and it made people think that he was banished for "losing the annals" is very funny. He was lost to the annals, there's no magical item named "the annals" which he lost lmao).

Anyway, I think Ornstein left to confront the Nameless King over his betrayal: perhaps he did so once his location on the Archdragon Peak became known. Talk to him? Kill him? Who knows. But is significative that the Dragonslayer Armor is found in the Nameless King's boss arena. I think that him and Ornstein engaged in a fight and, perhaps weakened by the lack of his Soul, the latter was defeated and died there. Whether this happened before or after Dark Souls 1 I do not know, but I have a feeling that this is how the warrior met his demise.

Now, why did From Software decide to add this lore in Dark Souls 3 I have no idea, considering it's very marginal in the game itself and it could have easily been left unsaid. Perhaps this was the plan all along. I will admit that not getting to fight the real Ornstein is somewhat disappointing, but also having him show up in person in Dark Souls 3 would have been a bit much. Even then, one thing is certain: despite never actually meeting him, he's certainly a memorable guy.

[chicxibalba]

cool four knights of gwyn headcanons

the age of fire lasted for thousands of years. kingdoms rose and fell, people lived and died. the only constants were the lords, anor londo itself, and ultimately, each other.

the dragonslayer, ever the busybody, took great pride on his cooking. what began as a necessity for survival turned into a genuine passion. you will never see him with a smile, but you will see one close enough when he's taking care of you with a hot meal.

the hawkeye is almost totally singular in his kind. born from the archtrees themselves far to the north, he was always compelled to wear a mask of some kind. his faceless visage was unsightly and unsettling to newcomers, even in spite of his good heart.

the lord's blade was never quite normal, or not as normal as she wished she were. she is a habitual liar, seeding falsehoods on reflex. it's easier to dress up the truth, to sweeten it, to just not be yourself. she wishes she could be honest with those close to her. it's safer for them is she's not.

the humble knight, a medial born among mortals, was born well after the dragon wars. his colleagues would never let him forget this, even when he went on to slay dragons of his own. the knight would never feel completely appreciated in his time, at least, not until the Abyss began to eat him alive.

the dragon slayer lived to serve. he served the Firstborn, he served his Lord, he served his compatriots. he and the lord's blade had known each other for a long time, since before they were even knighted. they served together in the war, became intimate. he feels the worst about how he was unable to prevent what she's become.

the hawkeye never understood romance so well. call it a cultural dissonance, or something else, but the drive isn't there. he has those who his is close with, though, from the blacksmith to his fellow knights. he is happy to let one rest with him, lay on him, tell him about their day. he never touched them back, not with his giant hands. not unless they ask.

the lord's blade is well acquainted with pain. she was born into it, living by it, in the form of a thousand cuts, burns, tears. her skin is painted in them. pain is satisfying, pain is cathartic, pain is pleasure. pain means that she is doing well. one day it will conquer her, but until then her every ache is a badge of honor.

the knight had always found himself the subject of the attentions of the other three. how couldn't he be? he'd always had a certain heart about him that simmered their suspicion and distance into true appreciation, brought them closer to him and to each other. his jokes, his wisdom, his love. the world was lighter with him.

the dragonslayer has family out there--sisters, nephews, nieces. he isn't acquainted with any of them anymore, and lost track of them quite a while ago. some intermarried with humans, gave birth to children with stunted mortalities. he himself always wondered if he could be a father, and raise a child better than his own had. his vows forbid it, but if things were different, together with his companions...

the hawkeye was fascinated by faces. lordranian giants had faces: humans had faces; gods had faces. they had eyes, noses, mouths. they blinked, smiled, growled, flushed red, drained pale. there was a little envy there, in how the dragonslayer might kiss his hand, or the lord's blade might share with him a truly rare smile. in how the dear knight might share a cup of tea with him, and describe its flavor. the faces he wishes he could share back, he whittles into wood.

the lord's blade wants to give back. these people in her life, these rocks of hers among a morbid blur, are all she has. she doesn't know how to. she doesn't even know where to begin. she has to be invited into love, into intimacy, and gradually warmed to it, before she even thinks herself worthy of it. in the end, she barely makes it. it's worth it all the same.

the knight hid when he first began to fall sick. he hidea his cold shivers, his inky-black coughs, his violent panic attacks. he catches himself in the mirror one morning. he's pale, utterly ashen, out of breath from the lightest exertion. his hand lays over his heart--it's racing. that sullen green ring hugs his finger, the symbol of his covenant with the Serpent. they can't know what he's done. they can't know what he's sacrificed to do the good he's always wished to do. they can never know what New Londo took from him the night it fell, and what he took from it in turn. they would despise him. hate him. throw him out. and then, just like in the beginning, he would be nothing.

[seleneprince]

Neris' daughters are named Sylvie and Gwyneth (yes, like Gwyn, one of Nesta's best friends), and they look like the perfect mix between their parents.

Sylvie is the firstborn, arriving four minutes earlier than her twin, something she playfully reminds her of quite often. She has bicolor hair, which its red from roots to the middle and gradually turns golden-brown towards the tips, and her mother's grey eyes. It's long enough to reach her waist, so she usually holds it out of the way with elegant braids or other hairstyles Nesta taught her. She has her mother's temper and her father's silver tongue. She loves animals, specially dogs because she's grown up with her Eris' hounds, and learning all she can about battle strategy. She's a great fighter, particularly talented with knives, and at fourteen she's known in court for defeating everyone that challenges her (and scarring people permanently for wronging her or her family). As Eris' heir, she's expected to command Autumn's tropes one day, so she has to train and study a lot. She's more than willing to kill for her loved ones. She can summon fire and her flames are reddish-orange. A daddy's girl through and through.

Gwyneth (called Neth or Nethie for short), has the same hair design but reversed. Instead, hers it's golden-brown from the roots and turns red to the tips, which she usually keeps shoulder-lenght, and Eris' amber eyes. She's shorter than her twin and looks like a sweeter, meek version of her (people foolishy understimate her for this and forget who raised her). She's more a diplomatic than a fighter, although she's trained in combat too just in case. She got her father's smooth, courtier personality, but in everything else she takes after her mother. She loves music, books and dance. She grew up watching her parents have duets whenever they pleased and she was enamoured by such art. She practices with them both, but its Nesta who teaches her the most. She's meant to become her twin's right hand in the future, so she's interested in politics and even becomes an ambassador for Autumn. Her weapon of choice are her words, but mind you, she can also burn you with her silver flames if you push her enough. She's a completely mommy's girl instead and, as a child, she was glued to Nesta's hips.

Both sisters are fiery in their own way, deadly protective of her loved ones and forces to be reckoned with. They're nicknamed "Autumn's Flames" because that's how strong their presence is. Sylvie is a warrior and a full-on strategist, while Neth is a diplomat and values discretion over open battles. They make the other courts shake in their boots, specially Night.

[dreaming-raven]

The nameless king, firstborn of Gwyn.

[c3rnunnos]

Gwyn's Firstborn

[knightscanfeeltoo]

NKStein before June ends...

(I don't wanna keep Drawing Dark Souls Characters But I don't know which Gay Couples I should Draw either...)

[honeybee-taskforce]

WIP Wednesday (New York Edition)

Thank you for the tags @carlos-in-glasses and @sznofthesticks !! Here is something from an upcoming wip, the same I posted last week!

The subway doors fly open and TK can’t stop himself from immediately dashing forward to secure a good seat. He can hear his mom behind him calling his name in frustration, but he knows she’ll appreciate it when gets them both a spot. Social rules be damned.

He pushes through the crowd that is trying to escape the hot air from their own traveling, and if anyone curses him out he pays them no mind. When he gets to the back of the car there is an entire bench that he practically pounces on to claim. He sits with his back against the handles as the crowd thins and his mom finally catches up to him.

TK flashes her a cheeky grin and she rolls her eyes, fondly, before they adjust and squeeze themselves into the side of the bench to make as much room as possible for someone else to join them.

Most kids TK’s age would throw a fit and push their mom away if she ever broke through the personal bubbles that they set up. TK doesn’t. He’s been getting teased at school for not being embarrassed by his mom, and he might never understand why.

He thinks it might be the fact that he doesn’t see her all the time. With her long hours at work, and living at his dad’s here and there, it’s not like he gets the chance to see or talk to her every day. Even now, freshly thirteen, he still finds himself letting her squeeze even further next to him when a pregnant woman seats herself next to Gwyn. The two begin to chat animatedly after Gwyn asks about the baby and the mother responds that it’s her first.

Gwyn’s face lights up immediately and her knee finds TK’s, connecting her to her own firstborn. TK can’t help but smile at the contact, and wonders again why Jason Thomson keeps harassing him at lunch and calling him a baby.

If being a baby means that he always gets to have his mother’s love, then he hopes that he never grows up. Then he can always have her in his life.

No pressure tags to @heartstringsduet @paperstorm @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut + open tag to whoever wants to join in!!

[daevastanner]

C H A P T E R   T W O 

“Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.”

― L.M. Montgomery, The Story Girl

Azriel put on a good show of knowing who his daughter was. Gwyn made sure of it. She’d subtly inserted the girl’s name, Catrin, and when the child had asked if Azriel was alright, his mate had told her ‘Papa isn’t feeling well after his trip.’ 

The little girl had frowned and placed her chubby hands on either side of Azriel’s face before asking where he was hurting. 

“Erm– my head,” Azriel had replied, dumbstruck by the love and admiration in the girl’s wide turquoise eyes. 

Catrin had beamed a gap-toothed smile, then pressed a rough kiss to the shadowsinger’s forehead and asked: “All better, Papa?” 

Emotion had clogged his throat, preventing him from speaking. All Azriel managed to do was nod with a grunt of confirmation. 

Not long after, Azriel had scooped Catrin up in his arms and taken a seat on the edge of the mattress. Gwyn had settled down next to him. Their daughter had filled the silence with a long, rambling tale of how she’d fallen out of a tree yesterday. Azriel couldn’t understand most of her childish babbling, but it was apparent the tale was quite harrowing. All the while she sat in the shadowsinger’s lap and played with his hands, seemingly unaffected by his gruesome scars. 

“If I had wings like Nyx I would never fall,” Catrin said knowledgeably. 

Nyx, Azriel could recall, was Rhysand and Feyre’s firstborn. “You probably wouldn’t, you’re right,” Azriel agreed. His gaze darted over to Gwyn who was watching the both of them with a distinctly gloomy expression. He lowered his voice, “She’s… she’s three?” 

Catrin didn’t seem to hear him, continuing to ramble about wings and branches.

Gwyn lifted her shoulders, nodding noncommittally. “Nearly four. Very clever for her age.” The heaviness in her posture increased, a wrinkle forming between her brows. “Named for my sister.”

That got Catrin’s attention. She pivoted in her father’s lap with such vigor she nearly fell off. Azriel kept a steady hand on her back, ensuring she remained seated on his legs. 

“Auntie Catrin is in the stars, right, Momma?” 

Gwyn smiled warmly at their daughter, a speckled hand tucking a lock of dark hair behind one of her arched ears. “That’s right, angel.” 

His mate’s sister was dead? A frown tugged at the edges of Azriel’s lips, but before he could offer his sympathies, the door to the bedroom opened. In walked Nesta, Feyre, Rhys and Madja.

Catrin gasped excitedly and flung herself off of Azriel’s lap. The shadows on his shoulders lurched for her, echoing their singer’s panic.

But his daughter landed lithely on the carpet and shambled off towards Nesta and Feyre, squealing happily. 

Nesta gathered the girl in her arms, murmuring words of affection and something that made her shriek a laugh. Feyre ruffled her hair and said something about sweets in the parlor. His daughter… His and Gwyn’s daughter… She was well loved.

Both Nesta and Feyre cast Azriel sheepish smiles as they left the room with Catrin, the latter shutting the door behind them leaving only Madja, Rhys, Gwyn and Azriel in the room. 

The elderly healer and his brother crossed to stand before where Gwyn and Azriel sat. 

“I just need to take a quick assessment, dear,” Madja said kindly. She extended two aged hands, arching a silver brow in question. “May I?” 

Azriel gave a nod and the healer approached, her slender fingers sliding into his hair and probing his skull. There was a tender but not unpleasant buzzing sensation as she continued her assessment of his mind – the feeling lulled his eyes shut. In the darkness he could sense Madja rooting around, and abruptly blurry flashes appeared. He could make out Gwyn, her face tear-streaked and panic stricken, then his own face, splattered with blood. A white ribbon. A kiss in a dark room. 

The buzzing sensation and the pressure of Madja’s fingers vanished. Azriel’s eyes snapped open.

The healer glanced between Azriel and Gwyn, then back to Rhys. “High Lord,” she began, “the nature of the artifact that did this to the shadowsinger, it provides insight as to the future?” 

Rhys nodded, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

Madja hummed in consideration. “Then taking into account what you’ve told me of what you glimpsed in the shadowsinger’s mind and my own assessment, I would say this is a standard magical transaction.” She gestured to Azriel, her smile wry, “Magic has a cost. When you took an artifact containing valuable knowledge, it saw fit to take some knowledge you also value.” Madja nodded at where his mate sat, speckled hands twisting in her lap. “Memories of your mate and daughter.” 

The information struck Azriel like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t even used the artifact, only stolen it for Elain and it had seen fit to extract such a cost from him? He was outraged, confused, and fearful all at once. Abruptly, Gwyn’s hand settled on his leg, squeezing his knee through the fabric of his trousers comfortingly. 

“Is it… permanent?” Gwyn asked softly. “Perhaps we could return the artifact and it would give him back his memories?” 

Madja shook her head. “The price has already been paid and I’ve been informed by the High Lord that Lady Elain has already started reaping its benefits. There’s no returning it.” 

Azriel felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know what the memories contained but he did know they were precious to him and the thought of losing them for good sent a ripple of terror through him. Gwyn must have felt it through their bond because her grip on his knee tightened. 

“Allow me to clarify,” Madja said, raising placating hands, “‘Take’ was the wrong word. The memories were not taken– only suppressed. Buried, if you will.”

“Meaning?” probed Rhys patiently.

Madja addressed the High Lord. “Meaning that they can be uncovered. We only need to dig, so to speak.” She extended one hand towards Rhys,“We have a daemati at our disposal, one who can sift through mind.” The other hand she gestured towards Gwyn. “And we have a mate with an incorporeal tether to the afflicted, as well as all his lost memories.” The healer brought her hands back together, interlocking her fingers. “Together, I think you can form a bridge into the shadowsinger’s mind and help uncover the suppressed memories.”

They all remained silent, each of them processing the information tentatively. It seemed too good to be true. Too simple. 

“What’s the catch?” asked Gwyn, rising from the bed and coming to stand before Madja.

The healer grimaced, again glancing from Gwyn to Azriel then back to his mate. “Acting as your bridge, the High Lord will have access to all the memories. Every last one. Every single detail.” 

The shadowsinger’s mate blinked, then looked over at Rhys, whose face was carefully blank. “A small price to pay in my opinion,” she said, setting her jaw. 

Rhys bowed his head, affection and loyalty lighting his gaze. “I am willing.”

The look Rhys exchanged with Azriel’s mate made the shadowsinger realize that in the past twenty-seven years that his brother had known Gwyn, they’d become more than acquaintances. His brother and his mate were… close? 

They are close confidantes, Singer, the shadows imparted, sensing his wonder.

Breaking his trance, Madja addressed Azriel with a slight wince. “That you and Rhys are both willing is only half the battle, I’m afraid. The memories can’t be uncovered if the subject does not wish for them to be. Azriel, too, must be willing.” 

Both Rhys and Gwyn looked at Azriel then. With every set of eyes in the room on him, Azriel felt himself shrink slightly, his wings drooping on his back. 

“Certainly Azriel is willing…” Rhys said softly, although he didn’t sound certain.

Azriel’s brows lifted in surprise, his gaze shifting to Gwyn. She stared at him, chewing her lower lip, eyes gleaming. Azriel hated that he was the reason she looked so grim. He hated that his answer to Madja’s suggestion had incited such fear in his mate. He didn’t know her, but he knew he couldn’t stand being the cause of this sorrow he felt funneling down their bond. 

“Az,” Gwyn said, her voice breaking and cleaving the shadowsinger’s heart in two. “You– There are certainly some–some bad things that have happened but surely… surely you don’t want to–”

“I’d like to speak to Rhysand,” Azriel said abruptly, trying to keep his voice even. “Alone.” 

Gwyn’s teeth sank into her lower lip once more, and Azriel could tell it was to prevent it from wobbling. She nodded her head, a jerky motion, then fled the bedroom – Madja in tow. 

When his shadows dejectedly relayed that Gwyn was out of ear-shot, in the parlor with Nesta, Feyre, Catrin and Madja, Azriel finally spoke to his brother. 

“I love her?” the spymaster asked the High Lord. 

Rhys’s answering smile was lopsided. His tense posture relaxed as he walked over to the window, leaning against the wall lazily. “Yes. You do.” 

Azriel nodded, his hands fisting in the bedding at his sides. “She’s… my mate.” 

“She is,” confirmed Rhys.

“And I…” The next words he had to force out. They felt like a betrayal. “Elain and I never…”

Rhysand smirked. “You were pissed at first, but you and Elain parted ways amicably.” He removed a hand from one of his pockets, rubbing his jaw as he stared out the window at something that wasn’t quite there. “And after you and Gwyn got together… Well, you never looked back.” 

Clearing his throat, Azriel felt color bloom in his cheeks at his next question.  “It’s… It’s just the one daughter?” 

Rhysand’s chuckle seemed to brighten the room. His grin broadened in amusement. “Catrin is your firstborn, but you’ve been campaigning Gwyn for a second since Andromeda was born.”

Andromeda. Azriel recalled that this was the name of Rhysand’s newborn daughter. Although, the cited ‘campaigning’ for another child with Gwyn was absent from his mind. 

“You took to fatherhood well, by the way,” Rhys continued casually. “When your leave was over, you asked that I scale back your duties. Your mate handles most of the spywork now, she’s quite adept after apprenticing you.” 

Stunned Azriel only blinked in response. Although, that did explain the lack of armor and bounty of sweaters in his wardrobe. Something icy in him thawed at the idea of sheathing his dagger and swapping it for toys and blankets. And Gwyn with her confidence and cleverness, she seemed the type to make a good spy – especially if she’d been taught by him. 

“Those memories,” Azriel began, his face a mask of calm, “They are worth regaining?”

Rhysand’s wicked grin softened. “I could show you a few.” He arched a dark brow. “Would you like that?”

Azriel thought of the hurt in Gwyn’s eyes. He thought of Catrin’s delighted squealing. He thought of that kiss he’d caught a glimpse of when Madja had dug around his mind. 

Inhaling through his nose, Azirel said, “Yes.” 

________________

After what could have been minutes or hours, Rhys stopped presenting the memories to Azriel and allowed the shadowsinger a moment to consider them all. 

Azriel scraped his fingers through his hair again, uncomprehending of everything he’d seen. He loved Gwyn. Elain was long forgotten. It was strange to think such a development had occurred in what felt like the blink of an eye. That a person existed who could so adeptly smother his obsession with the middle-Archeron. And yet…

“Gwyn… She and I are a good match.” It wasn’t a question.

Still, Rhysand responded. “You really are.” A soft laugh. “And she makes you… Well, she makes you better. And likewise, you do the same for her, Az.” 

There wasn’t even a hint of doubt in Rhysand’s response. His brother spoke with all the certainty of the High Lord that he was. If Azriel was being honest with himself, he felt that certainty too. It was rooted deep within his chest. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Azriel pushed off the bed and strode to the wardrobe. He didn’t let his eyes linger on the contents this time, instead snatching a dove gray tunic and shutting the doors swiftly. 

He pulled his shirt over his head, maneuvering it around his wings. “I’ll go get Madja then,” he said, distantly.

Behind him, Rhys’s voice was tentative. “Are you alright, Az?”

Azriel only nodded, then started for the door. Yes, he was technically alright – notwithstanding the loss of his most cherished memories – but he was also petrified. Regaining twenty-seven years worth of memories was no small ordeal, especially when those memories contradicted everything he knew to be true. 

Azriel was not a happily mated male with a daughter and a cozy family home on the outskirts of Velaris. He was a brooding, lonely spymaster coaxing secret kisses from Elain Archeron in the dead of night. 

He stepped out into the hallway, straightening his cuffs and trying to reorder his mind around all the gaps. He tried to brace himself for what was to come. 

But nothing could prepare him for what he saw as he started down the hallway and followed that tugging sensation in his chest. 

Read the rest on Ao3 or Wattpad

Teaser for chapter 3 will be on my IG on Tuesday

[beesmygod]

i like thinking way too much about fromsoft games. there’s something about the light touch the writers use to carve out their worlds that just absolutely tickles my brain. writing way too much about the most trivial details using college essay formats is the easiest exercise to make sure my brain can still make basic connections and convey those connections to other people. but as a lore prescriptivist (snob), i try to only stick to what’s in front of me without attempting to drag in outside resources or succumb to the apparent impulse to engage in wild speculation that many fans find themselves mired in. additionally, i try to make things as clear as possible for the fandom rubbernecks who like to read lore dumps about things that are totally outside their wheelhouse (i do this).

here’s something really annoying to keep in mind with these games: they write the scripts in english and translate them to japanese. but the dev team obviously works in japanese and have a tendency to reveal connections that are either relevant to unlocking questions not addressed in the game (such as the parasitic wall hugger having the file name “Prince Izalith”). there are also inconsistencies between the english and japanese translations, which raises more questions about what the authorial intent REALLY is. so the best we can do is filter the noise, ignore the innate desire to put words or ideas in any developer’s mouth, and stick to things you can copy-paste to support your argument.

that said i have one theory i refuse to give up entirely on the basis that it is really funny to think about: Gwyn’s firstborn is the father of Crossbreed Priscilla.

look out bitch! look out bitch!

i will go over all the reasons that support my argument and then i will discuss the objective problems with my theory, which is absolutely not one i think anyone holds but me. generally, the community is in agreement that her father is traitor turned mad scientist Seath The Scaleless. seath is an albino dragon who, due to his jealously of the scales that granted eternal life to the other dragons, betrayed his brethren and helped the gods wipe the once everlasting dragons off the planet. his bottom half looks like microwaved tinfoil because he’s been fucking around with crystals. also he was just born fucked up.

seath was rewarded with dukedom and a slice of Gwyn’s (king of the gods. who are a race separate from humans, rather than literal gods) soul.

first let’s talk about what supports my theory, so you can get a feel for the timeline of events and the social mores within the world of dark souls (?? i typed this)

PRO:

Crossbreed Priscilla lives in the Painted World of Ariamis: this is explicitly a location for things and people that the gods want to either forget about or sentence to exile. there are very few residents in the painting; the entire population is priscilla, the corpse of xanthous king jeremiah, a rotting dragon descendant (a wyvern), phalanx from demon souls who got lost somehow, a handful of hollows and skeleton wheels, and velka’s crow worshippers.

Xanthous Crown - A mysterious item once worn by the Xanthous King Jeremiah, the legendary exile

Peculiar Doll - There once was an abomination who had no place in this world. She clutched this doll tightly, and eventually was drawn into a cold and lonely painted world.

Dark Ember - The church long hid the forbidden black ember, and no living blacksmith knows of it. Occult weapons were used to hunt the Gods, and are effective against their followers and kin

velka, an unseen goddess with a single worshipper, is an entire other kettle of fish, but she’s not as complicated as people make her out to be. she was banished or killed by the gods for participating in the plot to overthrow them (this is another subject that causes people to spin out). i dont have time to get into this, it just matters that she’s persona non-grata.

priscilla herself is described as a “crossbreed bastard child” in her soul description. this confirms that she is the result of an unauthorized fuck and suck. as the “antithesis to all life”, she wields a weapon called the lifehunt scythe that mows down gods and drains any mortal that tries to use it.

Lifehunt Scythe - Even the Gods feared Priscilla's lifehunt ability, and in the hands of a mortal, its power will turn upon its wielder.

why the fuck would gwyn keep around someone who could kill him and everything he’s been working for? the man was so freaked out over the idea of the age of gods ending and losing power that he threw himself on a pyre and invented a new way to suffer to prolong the inevitable. why is there a black knight, gwyn’s most trusted troops, protecting the doll and one of three berenike troops in the entire game protecting priscilla herself? the answer is the same reason why he kept gwyndolin in spite of her snake leg deformity and simply hid her away: she’s family.

CONCLUSION: PRISCILLA IS GWYN’S GRANDDAUGHTER

Gwyn’s firstborn was erased from history for an unknown, unforgivable trespass: the amount of Mad gwyn is at his firstborn son cannot be understated; statues across lordran depicting him have been shattered, he was stripped of his godhood, and he was exiled from anor londo.

Ring of the Sun’s Firstborn - Lord Gwyn's firstborn was a god of war, but his foolishness led to a loss of the annals, and rescinding of his deific status. Today, even his name is not known.

Sunlight Blade - The power of sunlight, manifested as lightning, is very effective against dragons. When the eldest son was stripped of his deific status, he left this on his father's coffin, perhaps as a final farewell.

“foolishness” is such a weird ass turn of phrase for something that got you disowned so hard your dad forgot who you were. its so like...mild. just an observation. an example of a thing gwyn specifically might find unforgivable is fucking a dragon, as they are his mortal enemies and he just spent all that time killing them.

you DO eventually meet this son, The Nameless King, in ds3.

CONCLUSION: THE NAMELESS KING’S TRESPASS WAS SHAMEFUL ENOUGH TO HIDE WHAT HE DID AND WHO HE WAS, BUT NOT KILL HIM

The Nameless King has been deified by dragons and their worshippers: this one is so weird. by ds3 you are told outright that the nameless king “sacrificed everything to ally himself” with dragons and those who want to become them. he’s not even the first dark souls character to do it all for the nookie.

archdragon peak, a location where dragon worshippers go to begin their physical transformation, is riddled with statues of him looking badass. this is also where you fight him and his drake (it has 4 wings, but no everlasting scales) friend, the ambiguously named “king of the storm”. its not clear if the “king of the storm” is a title they share together or what the nameless king calls himself when he’s with his dragon lover or if thats the name of the dragon. regardless, killing the dragon begins the phase 2 solo fight against the nameless king. making this more confusing is that in japanese, both phases are named “the nameless king” and calls the king of the storm a wyvern instead of a stormdrake.

Lightning Storm - Once a slayer of dragons, the former king and wargod tamed a Stormdrake, on which he led a lifetime of battle. This miracle is likely a tale of their bond.

wow. love truly conquers all. gay rights!

CONCLUSION: THE NAMELESS KING IS COOL

Seath has never had sex: look at him. no way.

MY THEORY: gwyn’s firstborn, overtaken with sexual desire, fucked a dragon. the result of their copulation was priscilla, an abomination whose innate abilities made her extremely dangerous. gwyn threw his firstborn’s ass out from a combination of shame and anger, but could not bring himself to kill either. ariamis was commissioned to create a world for her, which became an all purpose dump for shit gwyn didnt want to think about any more.

AGAINST:

Priscilla is white: it’s pretty hard to ignore the fact that seath and priscilla share the same very unique skin tone...color palate? you know what i mean. the most common theory is that priscilla is the result of seath’s experiments or his daughter by way of gwynevere. what we do know about seath’s experiments is that the failed results transformed women into snake-ish creatures called pisacas. as stated many times in the series: a snake is a failed dragon (this is true in real life too). maybe one of them was successful.

BUT: there’s some problems with this, actually. for one thing priscilla isn’t albino; her eyes are white and she’s fluffy, like the everlasting dragons we do see. gwynevere married some guy named flann and booked it out of anor londo years ago.

Ring of the Sun Princess - The Princess of Sunlight Gwynevere left Anor Londo along many other deities, and later became wife to Flame God Flann.

so the gwynevere theory is out. it’s more likely that she’s a successful experiment who got too scary so she had to go in the paint. i dont really get why he was trying to turn women into dragons, if thats what he was up to. maybe he was trying to have sex. he was tired of using his j/o crystals or whatever.

Yorshka and The Painter: okay, we can assume that the painter of the next painted world, a dragon scaled young girl, is the daughter of priscilla and her weird husband mentioned in the ds3 dlc. i dont get company captain yorshka at all. i have nothing. she’s obviously a dragon crossbreed but has 2 insane things that make her completely impossible to make sense of.

first, she has fucking neck tentacles? no one else has this shit. what is that.

second, she calls herself the sister of gwyndolin. what! huh?! excuse me?

it’s insane enough that one of the dlcs revealed that gwyn had ANOTHER surprise kid who didnt get to share in the narcissistic family naming convention and was forgotten by history (filianore). but now there’s a DRAGON one?! i don’t know man. she’s inscrutable and i don’t understand her relation to the original crossbreed or why she didnt get painting’d. her existence is pretty hard to patch over with my theory. i dont think the nameless king was pumping them out and then shipping them over to gwyn for him to deal with more than once. mostly because gwyn has been dead forever by the time ds3 happens. maybe gwyndolin just handles these problems better now that shes de-facto ruler of anor londo.

well, i guess that’s all i actually have. my point with all this (besides entertaining the three people who enjoy reading DS lore) is that i can recognize the obvious flaws in my crackpot theory, yet it offers me the most satisfying answer because the idea of getting disowned for being a furry (scalie i guess) is really really funny. and as we all know, the comedy is when you need a 2 million word explainer about having sex with dragons. well. bye.

[prydainroyals]

CONTENT WARNING: Adult language, emotional/verbal abuse and gaslighting, implications of substance abuse, and mentions of death.

The Prince, the Heir, the--

--Spare, actually, prior to the untimely and tragic death of the King’s firstborn son, Crown Prince William.

The two stood facing one another, cloaked in decades of tense silences and bitter resentment.

The Prince discreetly clenched a fist at his side, not wanting to give his father the emotional reaction he knew the King craved.

The silence lingered between the two men, palpable, thick, and nearly unbearable. It made Arthur want to scream, to lash out; instead, he focused his energy on the nails digging into his palm, on the toes curling in his polished oxfords, in keeping his posture straight, shoulders squared, and his feet firmly planted.

It was like the two of them were just waiting to see who might cave first, and after what seemed like an uncomfortable eternity, it was the King who broke the silence:

“You should have sought my permission to go on this little holiday of yours.”

Arthur set his jaw and said nothing. He detected the faint whiff of his father’s breath and resisted the urge to grimace.

It isn’t a holiday you absolute prick, he thought bitterly, but maintained his stoic silence. Not that you’d get that through your thick skull, you fucking drunk--

Annoyed, the King turned his cold and dismissive gaze away from his son and shifted to focus on the magnificent mural, a point of pride for the country and its history.

“Everyone seems to be very proud of you for it, but I know you better. You’re running away from your duties--”

“--just like you’ve run away from things today, leaving your sister to clean up after you. Should’ve done the family a favor and said you came out first.”

Bait. It’s bait. Don’t take it. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

Arthur clenched his teeth in silence.

“You owe Alice and I an apology.”

As if you give a shit about her feelings, Arthur wanted to say, but did not.

Rather condescendingly, the King made a show of sighing, as if his son was being all too unreasonable in his refusal to speak.

“I should have refused permission--”

“--but Mother insisted I allow you to go,” the King explained airily, albeit with a note of bitterness that Arthur believed was partially true. The Queen Mother was a known political schemer, a shrewd woman, and an absolutely two-faced snake. She would likely say Arthur owed her for this, but he wouldn’t take her bait either. If she had given the King a hard time, it was worth it in Arthur’s book.

He couldn’t hide a small smirk at the thought.

“--Oh don’t you start,” the King snapped, having noticed. “You’re as bad as your mother. At least Alice has the sense to stay focused and remain diplomatic with the rest of the family.”

No one remains sincerely diplomatic with Gwyn the Gargoyle, Arthur thought, now resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he recalled the rather apt nickname for his formiddable grandmother.

Arthur’s decision to remain mute seemed to be getting to the King as the silence continued to stretch, and he shifted from one foot to the other, clearly more and more annoyed at each passing second. 

Arthur knew how much his father liked control--but today was his day, not his father’s, and he would not let the King break him of his dignity and his self-respect. 

Not. Today.

“Wintering over in the Arctic is a dangerous proposition. You’re lucky I’ve even decided to allow this. If something happened to you...”

“. . .”

If something happened to me? Arthur thought, incredulous. A tight, burning anger rose in his chest, those flames fanned by the bellows of a deeply-rooted ache.

“If something happened to me,” Arthur spoke at last, eyes remaining absolutely fixed on the mural ahead of him, “you and Gran would pop the corks and dig the bloody grave yourselves. If you haven’t already.”

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[anorlondoarcheryclub]

Arise in Perfect Light

Among the souls born of the First Flame is the soul taken by Gwyn. 太陽の光の王グウィン is his title as given in the Dark Souls introduction: Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight. 太陽 taiyō, the sun, is etymologically linked to 陰陽, the dualistic cosmic forces known in English as yin and yang. Specifically 陽 yō is the bright, masculine, positive association of yang.  

Sunlight seen in this way symbolizes heavenly perfection. Places connected to light are marvels of beauty. Anor Londo is no exception, with its classically beautiful white stone, carved surface decorations on nearly every structure, and mechanisms still working despite a lengthy period of neglect. To walk through Anor Londo is to be invited to marvel at what it could have been during its height.

Even Gwyn’s children are not immune, but rather are expected to hold to the impossible standard the Lord of Sunlight sets. One was banished and shunned in retaliation for an unrecorded transgression: Lord Gwyn's firstborn was a god of war, but his foolishness led to a loss of the annals, and rescinding of his deific status. Today, even his name is not known.

Another, kept in hiding for the accident of his* birth:

Gwyndolin, all too aware of his repulsive, frail appearance, created the illusion of a sister Gwynevere, who helps him guard over Anor Londo. An unmasking of these deities would be tantamount to blasphemy.

For one, it’s a matter of behavior; for another, appearance and inclinations that do not match the expectations of the surrounding society. Gwynevere, middle child, seems to hold a favored position - her items describe her as a beloved icon of bounty and comfort.

The miracles of Gwynevere, the princess cherished by all, grant their blessing to a great many warriors.

Gwyn himself is more of a cipher. It’s indistinct in both English and Japanese whether he was called the god of the sun before taking up his Lord Soul. His statues depict him with both physical strength and hale age, signs of both power and wisdom. Indeed, his generous actions in dividing the might of the “ultimate soul” among his children and his people reflect a great spirit. 

Lord Gwyn, bearer of the ultimate soul, divided that power among his clan before linking the flame. 

…Gwyn wielded the bolts of the sun, but before linking the fire, divided that power amongst his children, and set off with only this greatsword as his companion.

Despite his fears, his failures, and the horrific effect of his curse on the entire land, Gwyn is presented over and over again as the mythical ideal of a good king. He's held up as worthy of emulation while the Chosen Undead strives to succeed the Lord of Sunlight.

That idealized presence is shattered by his final appearance. Even Gwyn is unable to live up to the standard he set. It is part and parcel of his tragedy that neither a soul of perfect light, nor a legend larger than even a god’s life, can protect him from the curse he invoked.

*I’ll be using masculine pronouns for Gwyndolin. This is a headcanon, and I won’t judge you for yours.