#i hope she chooses kindness on the battlefield. i hope the desire for love wins over the desire for power

[amanfromnewjersey]

"I'm tired, mama."

@quiddie

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

If Aemond and Aerys’ daughter were in love, Aemond would absolutely recognize his feelings before she does. But Aemond is ever driven by duty. He may love her. But he thinks she needs him more as support alone. As her confidant and comrade. As her dear uncle. Nothing more

He doesn’t realize his feelings would be returned. The princess however doesn’t know that’s what it is. She’s always been close with him. She just files it away as leftover worry for his safety. There’s too much in the realm right now to think about anything else. She can’t lose focus. Or he’ll end up hurt again

Aemond does see how she desires a love like her parents. And no, Aerys and him approve of no one. He thinks himself a hypocrite for in some way wishing he could give her that.

Ironically ending up in the very position Aerys was in with his niece. Never saying the words. For her sake just enjoying the small things a little longer. Oh and Aerys and his niece noticed. The niece first. She’s not a fool. But she didn’t have to tell her husband, he picked up not long after. They share glances and some words, their own way of communicating that they’re aware

Aerys does think no one worthy of his daughter. He doesn’t feel the need to lock her away to keep it like that, she was trained well enough. Doesn’t mean he’d approve just anyone she brought around though. Or that THEY would be safe from him. But he knows Aemond well. Arguably the sibling he’s closest with

He knows Aemond’s devotion to duty above all else. No feelings are enough for Aemond to betray what he believes is his duty. To be there for the princess. Aerys may know his brother. And out of everyone he would trust his daughter with, Aemond may come closer than others

However in his eyes, there is one large difference. Aemond’s devotion to duty. Aerys did have a lust for power, and he wanted the throne. But he wanted his niece more. Every moment, he chose her above all else. Her hands are the only ones he finds peace in. Her gaze is one of the only that matters. The thing he knows keeps Aemond from making a first move is also the thing that causes him worry. His daughter wants devotion. He does not know if Aemond would be more devoted to her than his duty. He trusts and loves his brother. But a small part of him worries for the heart of his daughter. She is strong. She’s no fool. But like her mother, she feels deeply. He thinks it one of her greatest strengths. He does not wish the qualities he admires so much in his brother and daughter to be their undoing.

Him and his wife quietly agree to leave it alone. The choice is ultimately in their daughter’s hands. If she falls for Aemond, he would return it. If she wants him and chooses him, they will not stop her. They’d almost be hypocrites themselves in a way if they tried. And if she chooses to move on and not return it…. That is her choice and hers alone

It’s something all three of them understand

But for now, Aemond takes simple joy in the small moments of kindness they share. The books they exchange. The small gestures to check for each other’s safety during battle

And the quiet moment Aemond and the princess share. When they sit together in the light of the small fire they built after fleeing the battlefield. Both too tired to move for now. With only each other. For now Aemond lets himself indulge in that softness at least

For even if she is not his, and never will be, at least he can’t say he was never happy to be by her side

Imagine the princess's dragon is injured and can't really carry her. Imagine she and Aemond riding Vahgar. Her leaning against his chest, and his hands on her waist. She just loves flying and it was almost therapeutic. And Aemond just can't stop watching her.

Imagine there is a feast and the princess is dancing with someone who is desperately trying to win her heart. Aemond interrupts them and has a dance with her. Telling her no man in the hall is worth her time. And she is like "I hope you are not counting yourself, uncle. Otherwise you would be so wrong, and I know you hate being wrong."

Remember that look Aemond gives Haelena when he enters the room and sees her? That the look he gives the princess when he sees her after a day or two.

Imagine Aemond gifting her a dainty necklace with a blue sapphire one that she can wear everyday. Usually it's daggers or a sword, but the necklace symbolizes something different. And for the princess it's worth more than every jewel in the palace. Imagine the moment he puts the necklace around her neck. His touch not leaving her. The princess starting to breathe a little heavily as she can feel something shifting between them

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Can we get angsty fic of Yvette and Vuz-ass make a deal for curse removal? Yvette isn’t aware of the catch. Vuz took MC’s humanity away at the same time as Yvette’s curse removal. Mc joins Vuz and make deal with demons for powers.

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

“It is always a pleasure to see you, my child.” The greeting was raspy, amusement coating it like honey. Vuzgamad never felt truly threatened by Yvette, no matter what she did or what she said. It was all a game to her, like an owner who didn’t expect their dog to bite them, and only watched fondly as it growled and whimpered and barked.

But Yvette did know how to bite, and she would draw blood when she did. It was only a matter of time.

“You said you wanted to make a deal.”

Years of experiences had taught Yvette everything she needed to know about deals. It was similar to a battlefield, where each party needed to plan their movements and proposals to the full extent. They couldn’t allow their opponent to have an unfair advantage. Quite ironically, however, they were willing to go to any lengths to cheat the other party to gain said unfair advantage – so long as they weren’t caught, anyway. Yvette wasn’t planning on letting anything slip past her, because there was no doubt Vuzgamad wanted to cheat her.

The day the demon did one thing even the slightest bit truthfully, would be the day hell froze over.

“Straight to the point,” She hummed, making a small tsk sound right afterwards. “That impatience will do you no good, girl. Don’t you want to chat a little?”

Yvette gave her a fulminating glare, blue eyes glinting dangerously. “If it doesn’t regard whatever deal it is that you want to make, I have nothing to say to you.”

“So ferocious. So brash. Well, it is to be expected, I suppose…” Vuzgamad finally, finally turned to look at her, a small smirk playing at the edge of her lips. She got the gesture and movement right; if Yvette hadn’t known she was a demon, if she hadn’t been able to see marks and the hollow eyes, she would have thought it was just another human, if a little awkward.

Vuzgamad had learnt too much about human behavior recently. It set Yvette on edge.

“Simply put, your curse has reached its peak. It’s about time to remove it.”

“…Excuse me?”

She must have heard the demon wrong. She fought to keep her breathing steady, to avoid giving Vuzgamad the reaction she wanted, but she could feel excitement bubbling inside her all the same. She schooled her expression – no, no, she couldn’t dare to hope. She couldn’t dare to believe her, not when she had been the one to curse her in the first place.

She couldn’t let her emotions override her logic. She needed to keep her yearning in check. She needed to. She needed to. The disappointment would crush her otherwise.

For a second, Vuzgamad’s eyes flickered from her expression to her hands, scanning for the slightest twitch. Her smirk stretched.

Then the demon feigned disinterest, turning to whatever she was writing. Yvette felt eerily like a child that had stumbled into their parent’s office and interrupted their work. The sensation made her shudder with disgust.

This demon was not her mother. She would never be, because Yvette had left her real mother – and any chance she had at a normal life – behind when she had decided to run away from home.

“The power your curse provides can be harvested, so that’s what I will do. Take it away.”

Her heart leaped. Yvette worried for a second that Vuzgamad could hear it. She cleared her throat, trying to crush her rising hope. Focus. She had to focus. “There must be a catch of some sort.”

“Isn’t there always, dear?” Then, silence. She was enjoying this – perhaps she wanted to see Yvette fidget? She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – play right into her hands.

“I do not trust you, Vuzgamad. I will not accept your deal.” She intended to say this with conviction, but her voice wavered. Vuzgamad huffed, rolling her eyes.

“I have not finished speaking, child.”

“Could have fooled me…”

“Oh please, it was a dramatic pause. You know all about those, don’t you?”

“You were doing an excellent job at getting straight to the point.”

“Ah, so you are the only one who can have a dramatic flair?”

Yvette’s scowl deepened. “Stop. Wasting. My. Time.”

“So brash! Where did your manners go, child?” Another tsk sound. Vuzgamad turned the paper over so she could continue writing. “Yes, yes, there is a catch. The energy I harvest from you – your curse with it – will be used to bring about the end of the world. You must have known that already.”

“I hardly doubt you could destroy the world with-”

“Do you honestly think I’d have wasted years for a plan I wasn’t quite sure would work?”

Yvette bristled. With a quick movement of her hand, her cane snapped into existence. She twirled it artfully, a warning. “I do not accept.”

“Really.” The demon’s voice drips with sarcasm. “Do keep in mind there is no other way for you to get rid of that curse, save for that girl’s ability to love. We both know you won’t choose that option,” another brief, amused look, “or you could kill me, but I hardly doubt you’ll have much luck this time.”

There it was, that overwhelming desire. To be free. To be normal. To have the one thing she’d wanted almost all of her life. And it was locked behind a word and a sense of duty to her Assassin Title. If Yvette accepted, then…

Then… what?

Vuzgamad was sure her plan would work. Yvette knew it would fail.

Whatever it was that Vuzgamad believed, her curse didn’t feel powerful enough for the feat she was suggesting. Yvette was quite used to keeping the energy in check, after all. She would know better than anyone if her curse was truly at its peak.

Now this was the perfect opportunity to cheat her opponent. Yvette put on an act, refusing at first, to keep Vuzgamad from realizing what she was trying to do, before she finally agreed.

She could shoot two birds with one stone.

…

“Sounds like quite the big catch, though. Are you sure about this, Yvette?”

“I’m aware of the danger. Vuzgamad doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Vinca gives her a sidelong glance, wary. “Is it tonight?”

“It is.”

“And I probably won’t be able to talk you out of this.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Does the pipsqueak have a better chance?”

The corners of Yvette’s lips quirk upwards at the mention. “Not any better that yours.”

Vinca moves to touch her gloved hand again, giving the interaction with Vuzgamad a few days ago another look. “I guess it’s worth a try. If she does anything, we can just gut her.”

“Assuming we’ll manage this time,” Lazareth mumbles, looking just as uneasy as Vinca is. Yvette ignores them both, fiddling with her phone to get in contact with MC. She can’t wait to share the news.

…

“You brought company,” Vuzgamad notes, drily.

“What is it that you always tell me…? The more the merrier, was it?”

Vuzgamad laughs. It’s an awful sound, like a claw scrapping metal, inhumane and atrocious. Yvette winces. Vinca glares daggers at the demon, hands twitching towards the tiny knives on her dress, though she grits her teeth and makes no other movement. Lazareth casts the room a quizzical look, obviously on the hunt for a hint regarding whatever ritual Vuzgamad was going to use.

MC stood beside them, the very definition of calm. Yvette smiled to herself, knowing MC had taken her lessons about how to school her expression to heart. Having everyone by her side meant the world to her, emboldening her, giving her the strength she needs to face Vuzgamad and emerge victorious.

The thing is… nothing went as planned.

The curse removal was less painful than she expected it to be. Energy swirled out of her and into a device Vuzgamad had prepared, a small gray stone which quickly turned into a bright, pulsing orange. It was an odd sensation, not having to subconsciously keep the curse in check. Yvette felt almost hollow, but she quickly shrugged the feeling away.

She felt cold. For the first time in ages, she felt cold.

The chill of the wind bit into her skin like tiny knives laced with a numbing substance. Vinca moved to her side, watching her worriedly, her hand hovering over Yvette’s elbow and sending a shock of warmth through her system.

The curse had been blindingly hot, never warm. Yvette half-expected it to be scalding, but this warmth was soothing. Yvette found herself unconsciously leaning into it.

Smiling, Yvette looked up to meet MC’s eyes. And her whole world shattered when she saw none of the loving support MC had always given her, just stony indifference.

MC then walked towards Vuzgamad, who gave her the stone without a word.

Lazareth bristled at the sight. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

They glare at each other, the tension skyrocketing by the second. Yvette blinks. Blinks again. Blinks once more, trying to comprehend what’s happening, trying to understand why MC is standing beside Vuzgamad and not her. It doesn’t make sense. It is unexpected, and for a second Yvette feels a different kind of cold – it descends on her with a rush of panic

Vinca steps in front of her like some sort of human shield. Yvette can’t see the blonde’s expression but she can easily imagine it, all furrowed eyebrows and stormy blue eyes.

"You have one minute to explain before I gut you out. Both of you."

Vuzgamad chuckles. She turns in MC's direction with a maniac grin. "Yes MC, do explain to my child and her friends your decision." The glint in her eye reminds Yvette of the day she has first meet the demon, when she had ruined her life with the curse. She looks at it now and immediately understands her life will be ruined yet again.

MC shrugs. "Helping you was kind of pathetic. I decided to join the winning side."

"Pathetic?" Vinca repeats, her voice like acid. "I don't know if you hit your head or something, pipsqueak, but the only pathetic thing around here is your existence. Are you trying to shy await from that fact? Or are you just too delusional to-"

"MC." Her voice wavers, but it still rings sharply through the room. Vinca stops talking, choosing to seethe in anger while Lazareth gives them both one long, worried look. Yvette ignores everything - Vuzgamad's amused stare, MC's own disgusted one - and focuses on the woman she remembers MC to be. The woman she fell in love. The bike mechanic in front of her is a stranger, an illusion. "It's a lie. S-some sort of joke in very poor sense. It must be."

MC smiles. "The only joke around here is you."

Everything she is feeling is replaced by anger. Anger at Vuzgamad, anger at herself, anger at the world. The thing she desires the most slips through her fingers once more, as it seems destined to do.

The person she trusted above everything else. The person she can't believe is turning her back on her like this. The person she had given everything for, standing before her, letting all those precious, precious memories rot at the edge of her consciousness, not showing any remorse at all.

Yvette's first thought is that she is possessed. One look into her eyes confirms she is not.

The cold is but a distant memory, her pure being enveloped by the heat of her frustration.

Vinca gasps, taking a few steps back. "Yvette, your eyes!" Her eyes open wide, "your curse!"

Lazareth brandishes his weapon, bewildered. "The ritual was a hoax."

Vuzgamad bats his words away with a hand, still chuckling. "Hardly. I merely gathered enough energy for the curse to weaken, not to break. Yvette's conflicting feelings have strengthened it beyond comprehension." She pauses to bark a small laugh when Yvette's eyes snap towards her, blazing. "Child! What did you take me for? Did you think I didn't know your curse wasn't ready for harvest yet? It would have taken another decade, probably, but this little event speed the process up. Isn't it glorious?"

Yvette took a deep, calming breath. She could feel the curse's energy replenishing, fueled by her anger. It wasn't close to its usual amount, but Yvette could feel it nonetheless. The curse was stronger. One slip and everything would burn.

 "Where are the tears, Yvette?" MC asked. "I was expecting some serious waterworks from you! Too bad."

“Oh, that is it!”

Vinca’s knives flash. The realization MC has turned into an enemy – an enemy she will have to fight – locks Yvette in place. She can only watch as the knives soar through the air, directly towards MC’s shoulder. Ah, Vinca wants to paralyze her. Maybe so they can focus on Vuzgamad first. Yvette can get behind that plan, she wants to interrogate MC further.

But her thoughts quickly dissipate when the knives stop in mid-air. MC smirks, tapping the side of her head with a lazy, confident motion.

Lazareth grunts. “Telekinesis?”

“Isn’t it cool?” She asks. A flicker of her wrist, and the knives turn.

Yvette summons her sword with a trembling hand. Its weight offers some semblance of comfort, of control, but a quick look around reveals they are at a disadvantage. Eyeless demons are pouring out of the shadows in one big, crazed mass of bodies. They could probably take them on with little to no problem, but Yvette doesn’t think she’s in a good emotional place to endure the fight.

Her concentration spills into reality, turning it into a distraction that won’t last more than a couple of seconds.

It’s enough time to escape.

And so, she meets Vinca and Lazareth’s questioning gaze and orders a retreat, gritting her teeth, wondering how and why everything turned out the way it did.

She should have never assumed she could cheat Vuzgamad.

[frye7]

Ehi everyone, I was thinking how about a She-ra Eragon AU?

Just imagine, Adora finds a dragon egg instead of a sword, she doesn't say a thing about it to Catra, and that's a first, the first thing she doesn't tell her best friend and the first thing that starts to divide them.

Then the dragon is born, chooses her, and she has to do everything in her power to protect it.

She and Catra are part of the Empire (Horde), and maybe Shadow Weaver had taught them both to fear and despise dragons, to see them just as a necessary evil to keep peace and defeat the Rebellion and their will to do chaos in the Empire. So the girls hate both the Rebellion and the dragons, even though the emperor has one.

SW either had a dragon herself but lost it to the princesses and was devastated by it, so she concluded that that kind of love and attachment are weaknesses, or is a bitter specter (Durza).

Adora starts questioning the Empire since she finds it hard to believe that dragons are that evil after she experience the magical bond with one. At the beginning she is reluctant and afraid, but then she understand that the bond is so pure and magical and beautiful that SW and the Empire have to be wrong.

She also understands that she can't stay with the Horde, she can't protect her dragon there, and leaves to find answers (she can either try to convince Catra to come with her or not, but either way she doesn't tell her about the dragon, just that something doesn't feel right or add up and she has to find some answers outside. Catra snaps and doesn't go with her, in a scene like the one at the civilian village).

Adora finds the two people who had been tasked to take the egg back and forth between the Rebellion's bases in each kingdoms to find the knight for which it'll hatch, the ones she had stolen it from (because of curiosity or it was calling her or whatever) : Glimmer and Bow.

They are definitely not happy to see her and even more shocked when she shows them the dragon, but they see she is lost and confused and afraid and see that the dragon is healthy and cared for, so they decide to hear her out and then to help her.

After seeing how things are from the Rebellion's point of view, she joins them and gradually gains their trust. She tells them as many things about the Horde as she can, helping them to sabotage it whenever they can.

Most importantly, she spends so much time with the dragon. Sometimes she kind of hates it because of the great reaponsabilities it brought into her life, but most times she finds it adorable and loves it, every day more.

She teaches it to speak, and spends hours rambling on about the Rebellion, the Horde, SW and most importantly Catra. She tells it everything about their childhood, and how she is the thing she misses the most about her previous home.

Soon enough, it goes from being a dragon-who-randomly-chose-her-and-she-isn't-so-sure-how-to-feel-about to being HER dragon.

Just that, HER dragon.

It's a small, almost insignificant difference for everyone else and yet one very huge for her. The day she finally accepts it as hers, everything changes.

She feels happier and at peace and just better and her dragon does too.

And then Glimmer points out that she has to give it a name.

Adora is astonished, but thinks that she hadn't even considered that before because she wasn't ready. Now she is.

The dragon lets her know that he is an him, and she tells him it's time to give him a proper name then. He tells her about his desire to be like a wind of freedom for the Rebellion, and the name is given: Swift Wind.

Adora observes him telling everyone about his new name, roaring and flying around in excitement and smiles.

She watches how his white scales shine into the sun like a thousand diamonds, how the end of his wings and his claws are turning golden as he grows, casting light everywhere he goes.

Her smile widens and she feels hers and the Rebellion's hopes fly as high as he does.

The first time Adora rides him he immediately takes off, and she is absolutely terrified for ten good seconds, then as she lets his excitement and his confidence invade her mind, she feels nothing but joy for the rest of the flight.

She keeps training in combat, and starts practicing magic too when Glimmer offers her help. When she finds out, Angella decides to help as well, calling Glimmer's aunt, Castaspella, to teach her better, and Adora feels her hope and her love for this people growing even more.

She is still better at swordfighting, but her magic improves, slowly, but it does.

And then, the moment when Adora decides they are ready arrives. She and Swift Wind go to help Glimmer and Bow when they tell her a civilian village is under attack.

She fights, and at some point gets separated from her dragon, but keeps on going anyway, knowing that he is safe.

And then she meets Catra, ritgh there on he battlefield, only on the opposite side of her, something she had never thought would happen.

She tries to talk to her, and Catra tries to convince her to come back, snapping when Adora asks her again to join her.

Catra attacks her with her claws, screaming that she has no idea how much harder things got to her from the day she had left. How SW had vented her rage on her, how she had to fight twice as hard than before to stay alive and succeed in the Horde with her gone.

Adora can only imagine how it had been, and guilt, pain and anger overwhelm her.

Immediately, a roar answers her distress, and they both stop and look up at its source.

From the smoke of the fires, the big form of the dragon appears and lands right between them, separating them.

When Swift Wind turns toward Catra, putting his entire body between her and Adora, and shows his fangs at her in a roar, Catra immediately recoils, shaking violently.

Adora screams at him to stop, and he does, covering his fangs and taking a good look at Catra with his golden eyes.

Understanding flows in them when he recognizes the magicat in front of them, and his entire posture relaxes a bit.

Catra blinks, and her eyes go from the terrifying yet stunning beast to Adora, and back again a couple of times.

She sees the way her former best friend's hand is caressing the scales of the beast, the guilt in her eyes, the former protective stance of the dragon, and it dawns at her.

When in that exact moment the Horde sounds the retreat, her eyes go from wide to narrowed in a second, and rage and hate are the last things she lets Adora see in them, before she turns away and disappears into the smoke.

The Rebellion wins a battle for the first time in many years, and people starts cheering Adora and her Dragon, clapping and calling her She-ra, the last and strongest dragon rider who had fought against Hordak in the name of Freedom.

Tears streams down Adora's eyes, and if some of them are of sorrow, well, no one but Swift Wind will ever know.

Sooo what do you think? Anyone willing to write a or many fics about this? Please?

LET'S GIVE ADORA THE DRAGON SHE DESERVES

[emerald-amidst-gold]

A little exercise (Part 1/?)

(I’m trying out a new process to help me with my writing and to get me out of the block I’m currently in. I find that analyzing preexisting personalities and ones of my own devising help me better understand how characters will interact in my writing. So, I started small and outlined some of Fane’s major relationships. I’m eventually going to go down the whole list from family to Inquisition members, but right now, I just focused on family.)

Relationships:

“Friendships are like roses; you tend to their delicate petals, nurture their roots, and provide them with water, sunshine, and fertile soil to keep them satisfied, all so they may flourish with life and love. But what happens when the rose bush flowers from an innocent bud to a crimson bloom, bringing thorns in its wake? You bleed, you hurt, and you regret ever planting the seeds. So, do I desire a literal garden of people with thorns as sharp as glass? Not at all.”- Fane Lavellan regarding companionship

Clan Lavellan:

“Fane is brash, volatile, and temperamental at the best of times, Spymaster. You do not wish to see him at his worst. Many of our clan and the outlying forests have been met with his ire. Even so, he is not a bad child. None of his actions are vindictive or of ill intentions. Fane is simply misunderstood, like so many others. So, if you must demand more of him, then you must tread lightly. That is my advice to you and your Inquisition.” - an excerpt from a letter from Keeper Deshanna sent to Haven after the explosion at the Conclave regarding Fane’s demeanor

Fane is exceedingly slow to warm up to people, even with those of his own kind. Among Clan Lavellan, Fane was seen as an anomaly; his two toned eyes and stark white hair breeding fear and wariness in his clan members, as well as his unusual physique. What’s more, many of the clan avoided him for fear of triggering his volatile rage which, when at its peak, would render aravels or trees completely obliterated. So, as far as friends go, Fane never had many among his clan; only communicating with his sister, and at times, the Keeper. Fane’s disinterest in cultivating relationships also stems from his desire to keep the evidence of his father’s abuse away from prying eyes and ears. This did not stop him from attempting to bridge the gap between him and his people, however. At a young age, Fane proved to be an adept hunter; stealthy and graceful despite his hulking frame. Sadly, his effectiveness to provide did not win the hearts of his clan, since many of Fane’s methods were unorthodox to the Dalish. When such a simple attempt was ineffective, Fane took one last step to try and wedge himself into belonging; his vallaslin. Despite not believing in any of the elven gods (another pit that distanced him from the Dalish, as Fane is and was not shy to voice his opinions regarding them), Fane opted to have the vallaslin of Sylaise tattooed onto his face at the age of sixteen; only a year after his father’s magical experiments on his body began. Once again, this did not do what Fane had hoped for, since the ritual and implementation of the tattoos barely registered a flinch or grimace from the elf; his mind and body already so scarred and traumatized by the use of magic and physical tools that Fane merely viewed the sacred act as another experiment in which his father’s rules of “No crying, no screaming, no telling anyone” played on repeat within his head. Due to that stoicism, his clansmen simply began to view him as unfeeling and cold, some going so far as to call him a ‘snowy haired demon’. From that point on, Fane severed all association with his clan, and attempts to win favor were replaced with complete indifference. Interactions were kept to scouting missions and group hunts, and such things like gatherings or holidays, Fane spent either alone within the forest or with his sister. It may have been this rift of association that spurred the Keeper into choosing Fane for the mission to spy on the Conclave, or perhaps it was a way to help both Fane and the clan from anymore turmoil. However, when the explosion at the Conclave completely shifts his small world on its axis, Fane is more or less forced to traverse a battlefield in which he is outnumbered in both strength and personalities.

Mhairi Lavellan (Sister):

“First mother, then father..I can’t lose you, too, brother. I have no one else besides you for family.”

“Hmph, don’t be so dramatic, My. Even if something were to happen to me, the clan would still be here for you. The clan’s your family as much as I am.”

“The clan is your family, too, brother. Why do you think they don’t care for you like I do?”

“Because they don’t. I’m a monster, remember? They’re all probably breathing a sigh of relief that I’m leaving.”

“Would you stop that?! You’re one of the people just like any of the others! More than that, you’re my brother! So, don’t talk as if you’re nothing. You are everything to me, Fane. Everything and more.” - a conversation between Mhairi and Fane before he leaves for the Conclave.

Mhairi and Fane’s relationship is much like any siblings; occasional bickering, unconditional love, and patience with each other’s oddities. However, unlike most siblings, whose likeness of personalities tends to breed contempt, Fane and Mhairi are, by all means, anathema to each other. Oil and water. Fire and ice. The sun and moon. All these things describe the two’s odd relationship. Fane, while holding a deep well of his love for his sister, has difficulty showing such platonic feelings, opting for simply watching Mhairi with an attentive eye and merely giving stern guidance to the younger when necessary. Whereas Mhairi is more bubbly and easygoing, wishing to help her brother bridge the gap that he had created with the clan and constantly reasserting to him that he is loved and cherished. Such attempts at reconciliation have only thus far vexed Fane, but the message from his sister is not lost, even if he does not outwardly show it. However, like with the rest of the clan, Fane has kept the actions of their father a secret from Mhairi; the only secret he has ever kept from his sister (besides the information of him being a dragon. Fane himself is unaware of his heritage until after Adamant. Even after he understands this information, he does not tell her until at least around the time of the Exalted Council.). Fane has gone to great lengths to keep the brutal past of his abuse from his sister. Such actions include: hiding his acute sensitivity to magic, which is the hardest since Mhairi is a mage, his night terrors that leave him sweating and hyperventilating in the morning, avoiding any and all physical contact from his sister or others since his body still harbors phantasmal pains from the abuse, and dismissing any questions or concerns from his sister when she zeroes in on his pain. Despite these actions on his part, Fane still gives in to his sister if she is particularly persistent or if she is on the verge of tears. In these moments, Fane will endure the pain on his body for a light hug or give a vague response to a question of concern. In conjunction, Mhairi is always trying to find ways to bring back the person her brother was before the experiments began, much to Fane’s dismay. She will oftentimes gift him with sentimental items such as; flowers (primarily Gladiolus since it is a flower the two have an emotional attachment to), handmade pendants, a history book (knowing that he is secretly curious of outside society), and his favorite foods (mainly chocolates). All attempts are usually met with soft refusal or awkward shuffling on Fane’s part, but internally, the misunderstood elf screams with joy every time such a thing is bestowed upon him by his sister. 

Eloris Lavellan (Mother):

“Cerulean eyes like the deep lakes in the forest. Sunlight glistening off of golden strands like wheat. Shimmering, rippling across the surface with gentle strokes. Calm and patient even when I’d yell. Never scolding. Never hating. Her words hang upon my mind like her hand when she would guide my own across the page. ‘A summer breeze. A winter’s gale. All things are natural if you allow them to unveil.’ Her words. Her lesson. ..You were angry?”

“Yes, I was. I can’t even remember why now. But, she told me it was nothing to be ashamed of. She said all emotions were natural just like the wind and trees. I just had to..let them out.”

“Who was she?”

“..My mother, and that is all I’m saying about it.” - a discussion between Fane and Cole about Fane’s mother. 

Fane’s memory of the relationship with his mother, Eloris, is one of the few things he cherishes, and is one of many things he does not openly share, even with Mhairi. Before she died of a wasting disease when Fane was fifteen, Eloris guided Fane throughout his earlier years, teaching him how to write in both the common tongue and elven, as well as speak and read. Fane describes her as ‘the gentlest soul upon a fragile landscape’ since never once did she harshly scold him or yell in anger at his prickly demeanor, which Fane had even as a child. Instead, Eloris taught Fane the wrongness of his actions with poetry. After outbursts or moments of frustration, Eloris would sit with Fane under a tree or in a clearing, and simply read to him, recounting tales and lessons through elegant scripture. Such a technique had oddly proved effective, calming Fane and cementing delicate lessons of patience and open mindedness, that to this day, while slightly more difficult for him to keep, still connect him with his deceased mother. These tiny memories of his mother’s poetry were something that helped Fane through much of his father’s abuse. So much so, that Fane himself began writing and collecting different forms of poetry after his father’s disappearance, and throughout his time with the Inquisition. This odd fixation also reflects in Fane’s way of speaking, and sometimes his versed tongue has to be deciphered by someone more familiar with him or those who understand cryptic dialogue. At times, it even causes him frustration. Even so, Fane keeps the memory of his mother with him wherever he goes, and secretly endeavors to keep the promise that he made to her. The promise to protect their family, no matter the cost.

(I’m still working on Fane’s father, so he might be the last one I touch on in the list. Anyways, this is just a little exercise to finally cement Fane’s overall character. All of the dialogue is just stuff I thought up on the fly, so take it with a grain of salt in reference to canon.)

[the-bentley]

The Sacrifice

Crowley was correct, unfortunately.  There was some breathing space of a few thousand years before Heaven and Hell decided the time was right for their war.  And war it was.

The Earth burned and humanity destroyed in the wake as the two sides worked together to wipe out every last human alive out of fear of what the humans had become capable of through technology.  It was no longer a world for angels and demons.  Both sides feared a mortal race that was well on its way to becoming divine.

Aziraphale and Crowley could do nothing even though they still stood with humanity.  They were only two supernatural beings against an army of millions of them.  Eventually both were captured then pressed into service, the attempted executions forgotten.  Their sides seemed to think it was a greater anguish to force lover to fight against lover in the next wave of the War to End Everything.  With humanity gone, Heaven and Hell had turned on each other.

The Almighty was still absent, not speaking to even the Metatron.  The Adversary had not been merely sent back to Hell by Adam Young; he had been erased from existence when the boy told him he was not his father. The angels had been running the show for almost all of human history.  Satan’s lieutenants were the ones in charge since that first attempt at world destruction.  Chaos reigned supreme.

Beelzebub eventually had been killed by Michael in a dual between the two.  Both sides watched her crumple to the ground after a fight that could have been either one’s.  Michael was gravely wounded in the process, exiting the war until Raphael could heal her.

Crowley found himself in charge of the Legions of the Damned.  Suddenly, he went from traitor to the one who could save them all because he was the only demon with an imagination; the only one who could think outside the box. It wasn’t enough.  It couldn’t be enough, ever.

They were overwhelmed from the start – only one third of Heaven Fell in the Great Rebellion.  The angels greatly outnumbered them.  Demon by demon, Hell started to realize this, understand that even Crowley’s cunning couldn’t pull them out of a sound defeat. Crowley felt wearied by it all. All he wanted was his angel back along with a safe place to spend time with him.  Instead he was fighting to keep the carnage down and hopefully come to some kind of cease-fire until Heaven decided it was all or nothing.

He had lost Aziraphale to Heaven, half his troops had been destroyed and it looked like the remaining demons still alive would be joining them very soon.  In their anger, their despair, they blazed quite a path through the Army of the Divine.  It was a scorched Earth policy that left every angel in their path dead.  Heaven had forced Crowley’s hand in that manner. He hated himself for what he had become.

The Legions were under orders to only take one prisoner.  Crowley wanted to make sure Aziraphale stayed alive.  The best way he could accomplish this was by having him captured then delivered to him so he could personally keep the one he loved safe from harm.  If he couldn’t, they would perish together.

The life of any demon who dared to kill him was forfeit.  Crowley would make sure that demon died the most painful death possible before he followed Aziraphale to the grave.  There would be nothing left in the world for him if the angel was gone.

Currently, he was in hand-to-hand combat with Michael, sure that he wasn’t getting out of it alive when suddenly the Metatron approached to call for a parley.  Michael backed off at the appearance of her superior, standing off to the side with head bowed and sword held casually by her side.  Crowley was not fooled.  It would take the Archangel a fraction of a second to become lethal again.

At the sound of “Parley!” being boomed across the burned and broken battlefield, both sides gathered behind their leaders, the fighting momentarily stopped.  Armies stood behind both the Metatron and Crowley, the infernal looking more battered and bruised than the ethereal.  

“This ends now,” said the Metatron.  “You will be cast back into the Pit and sealed in never to surface to bother us again. If you turn on yourselves and destroy each other down to the last demon, that is not our concern.”

“That’s not much of a parley,” sneered Crowley.  “What do we get out of it?”

“You get a Realm of your own.  Rule it how you choose.”

“Ok . . . An isolated Realm of my own to rule, which I don’t even want.  How nice of you leaving me thousands of bored demons to find busy work for.  Thanks so ever much.  How is that negotiation, again?  You’ve offered me nothing I desire.”

The lieutenants standing behind the Metatron parted, revealing a kneeling figure dressed in white, hands chained, white-blond head bowed low.  Crowley immediately reacted.

“Aziraphale!  No!  What did you do to him?”

“Nothing.  He’s just been held as a prisoner.  He’s yours now,” replied the Metatron.  “It is an ancient Earth custom that the winning side would offer a member of its own tribe to the losing side as a symbol of the end of tensions between the two.  We offer you Aziraphale as that traditional sacrifice.”

“No!  You can’t.  He’s not meant to Fall.  He’s the best among you!”

“He will not Fall.  Only God can make that happen, but he’s no longer one of us.”

Tortured blue eyes met pained serpentine ones.  Not Aziraphale.  Not the purest of angels, in terms of belief, condemned to the Pit.  This couldn’t happen.  Better Aziraphale be separated from him forever than endure eternity in Hell. How could he endure the horribleness that was Hell with that unpolluted belief of his?  Crowley might be in charge now, but he was smart enough to know Hell was always going to be Hell.  He couldn’t conceivably make it a place Aziraphale could cope with.  He shed tears at those thoughts, not concerned that millions of angels and demons could see him doing so.

“And if I don’t accept?”

Michael walked over to Aziraphale, her sword re-ignited.  She stood with it poised over his neck.  To his credit, Crowley’s angel didn’t flinch.  

Aziraphale’s demon did.

“No!  You can’t kill him.  Please . . .” Crowley begged.  “Let him go. I will take him.”

Aziraphale was helped to his feet, unchained and allowed to run over to Crowley, who hugged him tightly. All around them demons screamed as they were sucked into the Earth, never to return.  Crowley unwound from the embrace, quickly taking Aziraphale’s hand. Dragging the angel after him, he leapt into the air.

“C’mon!  Beat those wings!  We’ve got to escape!”

Surprised into action, Aziraphale clumsily flapped at first then wasted no time getting up to steady strokes that helped carry both of them higher.  He gave Crowley a confused look.  Crowley returned it with a reassuring smile.

“We’ll get killed!” cried the angel.

“Is that so bad? Neither of us is going to like our “reward”.  C’mon, angel. We’re off to Alpha Centauri.  We should have done this the first time.” Crowley’s grin was feral and his auburn hair fiery in the sunlight as they passed beyond the cloud cover.  

He looked down at Aziraphale whose eyes and hair shone like the sky and sun in this utter freedom. Aziraphale smiled slightly.  It was a scared smile, but a trusting one. Willingly, he allowed Crowley to guide them up away from the carnage below.

On the battlefield, the Metatron held Michael back from following them and barked at the archers to stand down.

“You’re letting them get away?” demanded Michael.

The Metatron looked serenely at her with eyes the color of deepest metallic gold.  “The Seers foresaw this future . . . one of many.  I hoped it was the one that would come to pass.”

“Why?”  Michael watched them dwindle from a black-robed redheaded demon holding the hand of a white-robed, blond-haired angel to two dots that eventually merged into one before vanishing entirely.  “If those two don’t deserve death for all they’ve done, they surely deserve imprisonment for eternity.”

“Yes, but imprisonment means the chance for escape while death means the chance their spirits would eventually be recreated.  There are only so many spirits in the world and in the near future, the Almighty will start creating new angels and humans to replace those lost, pulling together the scattered atoms of former spirits.  Paradise will be reconstructed.  We do not need another pair of freethinkers among us,” replied the Metatron.  “Their rogue atoms will no longer be around to trouble the world.”

He surveyed the broken land containing the remaining angel army.  “Send them into the ground to kill all the demons.  We cannot risk them ever rising again.  Without Lucifer’s spirit to resurrect and those two troublemakers gone, the Almighty can re-Create them as proper, obedient angels in the future. As further precaution, the Seraphim will weave a spell around the Realms to prevent our rebellious angel and demon from ever returning.”

Michael nodded.  “It sounds like we just might get our Paradise after all.”

“We will.  We will make sure of it this time.”

 ~*~*~

 Two balls made up of motes of energy barely held together after being buffeted by the stark radiation of space for the years they traveled floated gently to the beach to manifest into two beings – one with tousled fiery red hair and yellow serpentine eyes, the other with a curly cloud of white-blond hair and sky blue eyes.  They still wore the tattered, battle-damaged tunics they left Earth in. The one in black carried a sword, the one in white held nothing.

“We are truly on our own now,” commented Aziraphale.  

Crowley squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him.  “We’ll be fine.  We survived the trip and it looks habitable here.  It should be ok.”

“What about our powers?”

“What about them?  I still feel mine.  It wouldn’t make sense if we couldn’t use them anywhere in God’s Creation.”

Aziraphale poked a bit at the green sand with his sandaled foot and stared at the riot of colors that made up the various tree leaves.  This place was going to take some getting used to.  What was he going to do without books?  Putting that thought aside, he reached inside of himself to feel for his connection with God.  It was still there, mourning for the destruction of Earth.  

“I still feel the Divine Grace,” he said to Crowley.  “God is mourning the loss of Earth.  Why didn’t the Almighty prevent it?”

“I don’t know.  It’s not like God talks to demons.  Let’s take a look around.”  

They headed into the forest with its trees of different coloured leaves.  Alien species of bird-like creatures that flew with four wings sang high up in the strange trees.  Something furred galloped by on six legs.  Unfamiliar squawks and calls surrounded them, making Aziraphale rather nervous, reaching out to grab the demon’s hand.  Crowley seemed to take it more in stride.

More deliberate sounds than those of animals moving around came from the east in the forest. Puzzled the pair moved that direction to check it out, Aziraphale holding tightly to Crowley’s hand; Crowley raising the sword in a defensive position as they moved forward carefully. Sentient life was not exactly something he was expecting.

Aziraphale ignited the blade, making Crowley almost jump.

“Don’t do that!” he hissed. “You almost scared me to death. I’m on edge enough as it is here.”

“It’s impossible to scare you to death, my dear.”

“Shh.  Just prepare some offensive magic, ok?”

Aziraphale crept up to peek through some pink-leaved bushes.  He blinked in complete surprise.  “Crowley, it’s a village.”

Crowley pushed aside branches to view the primitive but comfortable-looking village complete with humanoid creatures that greatly resembled Earth’s humans.  He almost rejoiced.  They were not here alone and he found that comforting for some reason.

“Life finds a way, right Aziraphale?  I forget what film that’s from, but it’s not exactly important anymore, is it?”  Crowley grinned.  “A whole new set of humans free to develop as they choose.”

“No ethereal plane here,” commented Aziraphale.  “I can’t move my wings into it.  That means no Heaven or Hell.  Do you think God wanted to start again without interference?  Or is it part of the ineffable Plan that we’re here?  Are we meant to guide them?”

Crowley thought a moment. “No.  They’re meant to guide themselves.  We should keep our distance and watch from afar for a while.  C’mon.  Let’s head a few miles away from here and make our own camp for the night.  Hopefully there are no apple trees on this planet; I’d like to avoid those, too.”

Aziraphale gasped in excitement, pulling at Crowley’s tunic.  “Crowley, look!  They have wings!  We’ll fit right in.”

And the humans did –  feathered wings of various colors and shades within those colors.  They spotted every color of the rainbow, silvers, even some off-white ones.  With a little help from their powers, they could change theirs enough to blend in, if they so desired.

“I know, we can’t guide them, but we can live among them like we did on Earth.”  Aziraphale got a far-off look in his sky blue eyes.  “We still get to be a part of it all over again. Imagine what they are going to be this time around without the threat of destruction hanging over their heads.”

Crowley laughed and kissed his angel.  “You’re going to invent books if they don’t, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale’s sweet, sly smile told he just might.  

They took each other’s hands, their fingers lovingly interlinking.  Together they headed off to find a patch of paradise they could call their own until they were ready to introduce themselves and integrate with the winged humans.

[edales-drabbles]

The Peace Treaty 2

“Themes: Forced/arranged marriage, duty to the state vs duty to family, fantasy

Summary: Aelric Hartwin was a General in a land war between the immortal elves and the moral humans. A peace treaty has been struck but the elves want their prizes. Some handsome Generals will suffice for now.

Previous

High Lord General Saelethil Adrieth was an elf who rarely didn’t get what he wanted. As a skilled duellist and tactical mind, Saelethil had led his people to victory in the name of his King and Queen many times.

Each time they had rewarded him with a boon and each time he asked for nothing more than a token for when he found the person he wished to marry. His soul mate was not with his own people, that was clear from his lack of mark, so another race would have the soul that completed his. He’d need the token to turn them immortal and young forever like himself. There would be no point having a soulmate only for a few decades to pass and for them to waste away. No, the tokens would be needed.

The war, if it could be called that, with the humans had not been Saelethil’s idea. It had been rather childish on both sides and had escalated beyond most reasonable men’s control. When Saelethil first gained his title, they would have slaughtered the humans like animals. Now, it was different.

Humans were sentient and growing more clever by the day. He had not been the only one to notice. The cowardly King who would sacrifice his own to stop the war. Only King Walter was no fool, Saelethil knew this well. Walter had played chess against his King and won. Walter had ensured the peace for the next ten generations. Walter knew he was the one not written on the list but was there none the less. Walter obeyed the requirements given and that was it. Until the last one.

The cowardly King was prepared to die for peace.

Saelethil wished it was not the man he wanted who had disappeared. His King and Queen desired a new pet and Walter would have been perfect for him. It was a waste of blood and at the end of the day, Walter was right. The last chance to see one's children was not one that could be taken from his General.

“I’ll find him,” Saelethil declared as he stopped his King from slicing the throat of the Cowardly King. “Just means he’s given me a chase,” he grinned darkly.

“You are content to hunt for him?” His King asked, hope in his eyes. Walter just held still, eyes closed, still waiting for the final blow. The Kingdom watched. Not a single person had cried out in the Cowardly King’s defence. None of them understood why Walter had done what he did. They thought they could win this war. Only Saelethil knew better.

“Hartwin is a man of his word. If he accepted this as his fate, I have no doubt he will behave when I find him. It will just be a matter of finding him,” Saelethil shrugged, confident in his judgement.

“Aren’t you lucky, my dear one. You get to be my bed warmer after all,” His King purred into Walter’s ear. “You should really thank my General.”

Walter opened his eyes and looked at Saelethil with a look of numbness. He looked like his soul had already been removed and the thing left was just a husk. Saelethil almost felt sorry for the man. “Your mercy is surprising for your station,” Walter said calmly, his words polite, courteous and more importantly, in fluent elven. His King looked shocked for a moment. None of them had noticed that before.

“It is not mercy,” Saelethil replied.

“Then no thanks is needed,” Walter countered calmly, some more of himself returning to his eyes and stance. “This was not a life I wished to return to but the needs of the many are more important than my own. Were more important. I am not longer a King, after all.” He smiled at the end. An almost dead smile.

Saelethil met his King’s eyes. That did not bode well for Walter adapting to being the Royal’s plaything. “It is a life,” his King pointed out.

“Is it?” Walter challenged gently. There was a slight shift of his hips and suddenly it wasn’t the cowardly King in front of them anymore. It was a warrior on the battlefield. “So what will do you, warrior? Will you rip your chosen from his children? Will you kill them if they try to keep their father? Pasts and presents are important and by choosing to claim us, you must be prepared for the past to come hunting for us. Hartwin simply went to his.”

“I will not kill a child,” Saelethil sniffed but the sinking feeling was bad. Walter was right, just what was he going to do with the children of his soulmate?

—

Hunting his prey was not hard. Saelethil knew a lot about Hartwin after all. What was harder was dealing with locals who looked at them with hate in their eyes and daggers in their hands. He had brought along some of his most trusted men and he had needed them. Not all the locals attacked but they always made it known his kind were not welcome.

He didn’t care in the slightest.

“Ah, Aelric’s elf. We been waiting for you to appear,” an old man grumbled, an eye patch over his left eye and crutch next to his seat. The other elder man with him chuckled and moved a piece on the chessboard they were playing. “Brat has been down with the flu last week or so.” He said lightly.

It was certainly a different way to be greeted by the locals. “Where can I find him?” Saelethil asked, ignoring his second’s amused smirk. Aelric’s elf indeed. Still, Hartwin hadn’t lied to the people of this village about his new keeper. They seemed rather unbothered by the fact a patrol of highly armoured elves had appeared in their quiet little village. Eyes were watching them but no one was hiding their children or pulling their weapons in case of a fight.

“North trail, turn left at the fork. If you hit the waterfall, you went too far,” the old man shrugged, gesturing at a path. “Watch out for the girl. She has a nasty swing with that frying pan of hers,” he warned gently.

“Understood, my thanks,” Saelethil nodded, steering his horse onto the path. His men murmured their own thanks and followed.

“That went too well,” his second, Elre warned.

“We keep our eyes out and our eyes open,” Saelethil said calmly.

“For girls with frying pans,” Elre chuckled, amused at the idea.

“Indeed,” Saelethil agree dryly. It made sense to him that Hartwin’s daughter would be a fighter in her own right. She would have had to defend herself while her father was at war. Saelethil doubted any of Hartwin’s children would be the sort not to pick up a blade at some point in their life.

A boy appeared on the path, Saelethil pulling his horse to a stop. The boy looked at him strangely, a nasty black eye under his left eye and a split lip. He scowled. “Just my luck,” he muttered. “Third bad thing to happen is you lot appear.”

“I imagine the first two hurt more,” Elre offered when it was clear Saelethil wasn’t sure what to say to the injured boy. He was Hartwin’s. No doubt about that. A mess of black hair that looked red in the sunlight. Brown eyes that looked black when enraged. A cluster of freckles over his nose and cheeks. This boy was the spitting image of Hartwin, though a great deal younger. The boy couldn’t be older than eight.

The boy shrugged. “Depends what you cause to happen,” he offered in response.

Saelethil silently offered his hand. The boy looked at it a moment before taking it. Saelethil gently pulled the boy up and on his horse, the boy wrapping his arms around his waist calmly like he’d know Saelethil his whole life. But weirdly, he likely had.

“What’s your name?” Elre asked softly.

“Not polite to ask when you haven’t given your own,” the boy challenged.

“Yet you ride his horse without a word,” Elre questioned.

“I know his name. I don’t know yours,”

“And his name is…”

“Saelethil Adrieth,” the boy said calmly. His pronunciation was slightly off but there was no denying the child knew exactly who he was. Saelethil tried not to think too much on that. This was all going to be a test, and he knew it painfully. “And your name is?” He mocked in the same tone.

“Elre Leoyra,” Elre introduced.

“Oh! Da did mention you. You’re the one who fell into a mud pit during the ceremony thing,” the boy mused.

Saelethil smirked as his second spluttered. The ceremony thing had been a very important and very sacred ceremony that happened every hundred years. The incident was one Elre was never going to live down. Even by children now it seemed.

Eventually, they reached the house, Saelethil swinging down and lifting the boy down calmly as Elre and he continued to bicker without ever learning the child’s name. Saelethil entered the house, careful to watch out for the girl wielding a frying pan. When none came, Saelethil moved over to where his soulmate was resting. In an alcove in the kitchen where it was nice and hot.

“Found you,” Saelethil teased softly, sitting on the side of the bed.

Pale skinned and looking green Aelric smiled up at him sleepily. “You’re not going to catch what I have, right?” He checked. Saelethil shook his head. The kiss he got in return was worth the lie. Warm, loving and passionate. Then as they parted Aelric pressed their foreheads together. “That’s all your getting for free. I told you, I wanted to live my life not be fucking bound to you forever,” he warned darkly.

[stilljumpingback]

(via Black Sails Episode 309 - XXVII)

WELL-FORMED THOUGHTS

We’ve been circling themes of leadership and darkness this whole season (and series, honestly), and in Flint’s warning/welcome to Silver, we are explicitly told the connection between the two.

Flint:  I’d hazard the guess that you learned of what had happened, told him how fucking stupid he was, and in that moment, he gave you a look that amounted to something less than contrite.  And in that moment, you felt it. Silver:  Felt what? Flint:  Darkness.  Hate.  Showing indifference to the authority that you sacrificed so much to acquire, disdain for refusing to acknowledge that his actions, had you not intervened, would have led to an outcome that he would have held you responsible for reversing.  Pride.  Questioning what kind of man you are if you don’t seek retribution for the offense.

This sounds a lot like Madi’s analogy of the heavy crown.  Flint knows about the crown, but in contrast to Madi, who has been supported by family and community, Flint knows what it is to bear that crown alone.  He knows what it is to carry an enormous weight, and to resent everyone around him for not seeing it, respecting it, acknowledging it.  And he knows that in his worst moments, he can act out of that resentment.

Flint believes that the darkness isn’t inherently wrong, but he knows that one must have control over it, and not the other way around.  This is where Madi’s analogy of the tether is so important.  In order to endure the darkness, it is essential to have someone with you, supporting you, aware of the heavy crown and its costs.

This whole show is about the power of partnerships, huh?  God, it’s so beautiful.

FRAGMENTED THOUGHTS

“It is not the treasure that concerns me most.  Charles Vane’s sacrifice is in that box.  If your man is unsuccessful in seeing to his rescue, Charles Vane’s death is inside that box.  Along with my good name.  Along with her lost love. Along with your late quartermaster’s life.  All the awful sacrifices made to assemble that box are now part of its contents, and those things are sacred things that I trust in no man’s hands.”

The weight of what they’ve all done is settling in on everyone, and that’s before one of our major characters is executed.

The scene between Eleanor and Vane is so good because these two know exactly how best to hurt each other.  Eleanor calls Vane a coward, and Vane tells Eleanor she isn’t loved.  As has always been the case, they’re simultaneously so wrong and so right.  They see some things about each other so clearly, but they are utterly blind to other things.  As they began, so they end:  as a tragedy.

Eleanor’s speech to Vane is the perfect summation of how civilization justifies their demeaning hatred of pirates.

“You’re not a man.  You’re deformed.  Unformed.  Flesh, bone, and bile, and missing all that which takes shape through a mother’s love.  You cannot comprehend what you took from me or why it was good, because there is no goodness in you.  There is no humanity in you, no capacity for compromise, nor instinct toward repair, nor progress, nor forgiveness.  You are an animal.”

Woodes Rogers is bedridden with the Nassau disease that is taking down his soldiers, which is a very reminder that even the island itself is trying to expel the English.

Eleanor is motivated by revenge, but I believe she also genuinely wants to move beyond both Vane and her hatred of him.  “There is no leaving it behind, but I’m ready to move forward.”

Featherstone and Idelle riding in a carriage together makes me very happy.

Billy’s job is to make people give a shit, but am I alone in thinking this is a very weird job for him to latch onto?  He’s never been good at convincing anyone of anything, as Flint and Silver consistently and effectively walk all over his concerns.  Am I not giving our tall boy enough credit?

I LOVE seeing the reunion of families on Maroon Island.  It’s no wonder Flint regained his desire to live and fight after meeting them – this is the homeland he’s so long envisioned creating.

Madi:  I stood in Nassau, and I realized when this war begins, it will have many different meanings.  But to you this war is a civil war between two cities you held together for so long with unseen bonds.  You will have people on both sides of it.  You will have daughters on both sides of it.  And I want you to know– Mr. Scott:  Only you.

This is SO SWEET and makes me cry, but I can’t help but feel sorry for Eleanor.  Vane’s accusations of no one really loving her are not untrue.  She’s never felt secure in anyone’s love, because everyone who has loved her has had multiple obligations.  But I’m making this lovely scene into a white woman’s pain.  More importantly:  How wonderful for Madi to have her father’s full support, and for them to have this moment together before he died.

Mrs. Mapleton tells Max that Idelle is the spy, but she won’t tell Eleanor because she believes Eleanor is self-destructive, implying Max is not.  “Some people can only understand themselves through the eyes of those who hate them.”  God, this episode is really making me feel sad for Eleanor.

Eleanor says she doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her except for Woodes Rogers, which begs the question: why him?  She barely knows him.  But I think that’s exactly the reason.  She has idealized him to the point that she subconsciously believes he represents everything:  civilization, stability, hope.  If she can earn his approval, then she will feel that everything she has done has been worth it.

Flint:  The more you deny its [darkness] presence, the more powerful it gets, and the more likely it is to consume you entirely without you ever even knowing it was there.  Now, if you and I are to lead these men together, you must learn to know its presence well so that you may use it rather than it use you. Silver:  You have some experience with this, I imagine, living in fear of such a thing within you? Flint:  Yeah, I do. Silver:  I can’t tell if this was a warning or a welcome.

It’s BOTH, because that’s what a partnership is:  Thank God there’s someone here with me, now let’s help each other get out.

Silver comforting Madi after Mr. Scott’s death is very sweet.

Max tries very hard to caution Eleanor that the people of Nassau tolerate England’s presence because they’re given security and order.  The second she takes away that order, people will question why they should keep England around.  But Eleanor just wants this all DONE, blinding herself to the possible consequences.

Lambrick visits Vane, which will be an entire post for my theology section soon!

Vane refuses to be enslaved, even to fear of death.

“These men who brought me here today do not fear me.  They brought me here today because they fear you.  Because they know that my voice, a voice that refuses to be enslaved, once lived in you.  And may yet still.  They brought me here today to show you death and use it to frighten you into ignoring that voice.  But know this:  We are many.  They are few.  To fear death is a choice, and they can’t hang us all.  Get on with it, motherfucker.”

Wow.  Just, wow.  I hate that Vane died, but what a way to die.

Vane looks into Eleanor’s eyes and walks off the cart to his death.  Even in death, they are playing a game of who wins, and clearly Eleanor’s “victory” doesn’t feel very sweet.

Mr. Scott also dies, though in contrast to Vane, he is surrounded by people who love and honor him.  …Also Jack, who takes the opportunity to further his ambitions by requesting command of the ship Vane would have led in the upcoming battle.

Flint snarkily saying, “All struggles are uphill, that’s why they’re called struggles” gives me life!

Other people talking about Flint’s brilliance is my kink.

“He wants the force you bring to bear, he wants it.  I know this enemy, Commodore.  I know his mind.  He took that cache with the express purpose of compelling us to commit your force to a battlefield of his choosing.  Your force is factored into his thinking.  He has planned for it.  And I assure, you, if you allow him to dictate the terms of battle, you court a disastrous outcome.”

My heart continues to break at shots of Eleanor and Flint staring across the sea at each other, enemies now instead of partners.

And then Teach finds out that Vane is dead, and my heart officially shatters.

[violecentstrs]

Memories of Us - Chapter 6

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this one! <3 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warning(s): A little NSFW and language Word Count: 2,416 Summary: Soldier Reader looks exactly like Linda, a woman Bucky used to love. Little by little, she uncovers his past with Linda and what had happened between them through her visions. As she does, her feelings for Bucky grew as well. But, one question remains: if Bucky returns her feelings, will it be for Reader or for Linda?

<< Previous Chapter  ☀

★ ★ ★

• • •

“Linda! I expect you to understand my work. There is no time for that.” My father protests while never looking up at me. My heart aches at his cold statement.

“But father… you promised last year to go and visit mother for her birthday. We wrote a letter to her about it. Don—”

“I have a war to win, Linda. There is no time to celebrate such petty occasions. Especially not for your whore mother.” His words pierce right through my heart. How could he say such a thing of her? I still love her and, to be honest, glad that she even left him. But she didn’t leave him for another man. It was for her family.

“But, fath—”

“No more from you, girl! Out you get. You have your own assignments to finish.”

I stand firm. I dislike those who breaks their promises. I didn’t care if he was the General. He is my father in my eyes. A knock on the door.

“Come in.” He says quickly.

“Why are you so stubborn? You don’t give her any chance to speak her mind. You falsely accuse her of an affair that doesn’t even exist. Did you even hear yourself that night when you were yelling at her?!” I half yell at him even though I felt the person entering the room. I don’t want to show anymore weakness in front of him.

“How dare you speak to me with that tone?!” He looks up at me finally while standing up. He looks like he is about to charge at me.

“If you miss your mother so much, go live with her! I don’t need you in this place anyways! You only do petty works for me. Go and be with your whore of a mother! I have a war to win and your little wish will only get in the way!” My heart drops. I can feel the pain of his words swirl around within my chest. Soon after he saw the hurt in my eyes, his expression turns into regret.

“Linda, I…” I stand there in silence. I’m trying so hard to keep myself from spilling the painful tears.

“You asked for me, sir?” Bucky’s voice makes my heart jump. I look at him horrified. Shit. He heard all of that just now? Why didn’t I check? Why did I blurt all of those out just now?

“Yes, Sergeant. I have an assignment for you.” He changes his tone while picking up a few files.

“Linda. We will continue our discussion later. Return to your tent. Dismissed.” He orders me. I didn’t wait any more. I walk out of that room before slamming the door shut. I know that Bucky heard everything I said just now. I’m both hurt and embarrassed from it.

I didn’t return to my tent. I run out to the forest into the one place where I know I can find comfort in. Even though the field is pitch black during the night, but I didn’t care. I needed to get away from everything. I needed to let all of this pain out.

I curl up underneath the tree. My eyes spilling the painful tears of my own father’s words. He jumps into conclusions without truly checking himself first. I sob and sniffed to myself, trying to calm down. But I couldn’t. The freezing cold air around me only made it worse. I didn’t bring my coat along when I left.

A few minutes of sobbing later, I hear someone approaching the tree. I look up to find the familiar figure standing in front of me. I look away and wipe my tears. I wrap my arms around me to keep warm.

“What is it, Sergeant?” I ask calmly.

“That was some drama there in the office with your father.” He says while crouching down in front of me. I wipe my wet hands against my skirt before clearing my throat.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” I say as I keep my eyes on the small bushes near the tree. Out of nowhere, I feel Bucky wrapping me up in his coat. I look up at him surprised.

“You’re cold.” He says simply while pulling his warm coat tight around me. I blush at his gesture.

“I’m… I’m fine, Sergeant. You don—”

“You don’t always have to be strong, Linda.” He says. His blue eyes staring straight into me. I didn’t know what to say.

“The General told me to not pay you any attention after you left. And that he’ll torture me if he sees me around you.” He says with a chuckle. I let out a small gasp. He takes away my chance of seeing mother, now he wants to take away my chance of seeing Bucky? Why is he so cruel?

“Believe me, it took all of my will to keep my fist from flying to your father’s face.” I blink at his statement.

“Why?” I ask out of curiosity. He sits down in front of me. Bucky’s thumb brushes over my cheek to get the little bits of tears left on it.

“It was the first time I saw you cry. It was as though I felt what you did. The pain and the sadness.” His smile was covered in the shadows, but I could still somehow feel it. My heart beats against my chest at his words.

“I don’t want anyone to make you cry like that, Linda.” He says quietly with his thumb continuously brushing over my frozen cheeks. His words melted my heart. I could no longer feel that coldness around me.  

I gaze up at him, watching his eyes shift around my face. My heart is beating out of my chest. I can hear them ringing loudly in my ear. His hand feels so warm against my cheek. Just like that, Bucky managed to make me forget about my pain and anger. He didn’t just make me forget them; he replaced them with words of love and warmth.

Without any other word, our lips crash into one and another. His coat falls off when his arms wrap around me. I wrap mine around his neck to pull him close. His hands move down to my waist to pull my shirt off. I did the exact same for him.

His lips trailed around every inch of my body. His fingers carved themselves into my very skin. The heat of his naked body against mine kept me away from reality. The gentle of his love wrapped my heart around with an everlasting warmth. And his desire planted itself deep within my very core.

Even though the night was cold, we couldn’t feel it. The ground was frozen, but it melted underneath our hot bodies. The cold night breeze barely touched us. We were lost in each other. Love. Lust. Desire. That’s all that we felt for each other that night underneath the tree. We kept each other warm against the autumn night in one of the most phenomenal ways ever.

• • •

I cock the gun once before pointing it towards the target. With no hesitations, I shoot exactly on the bullseye five times before on an approaching target on the head another five times. Quick and simple.

I take a deep breath and set the gun down. The smell of hot lead filling up my nostrils. I remove the ear muffs and watch as both targets move in close to me. Still got it. I’m good with these kinds of things. But when it comes to the battlefield, it’s a whole different story.

“Well done, Linda. I mean… Y/N. That is quite skilful of you.” Bucky stutters, watching me from behind. I turn to look at him. Seriously?

“Thank you, Bucky. If only I was as good on the battlefield.” I say a little too painfully. I put the gun away along with the muffs.

It’s nice to get back in the zone with the guns. I find them quite more useful than hand-to-hand combat. Especially after the past month of Natasha and Steve’s strict training and studies. And Bucky is quite the skilled marksman. He gets the target effortlessly every time.

“But a little tip for out in the battlefield: hold your rifle at a certain angle. If the target moves around a lot, your best chance is to aim at the target in a space they are approaching, like this.” He picks up a rifle and hands it over to me. His arms circle around me as he holds my hands against the handle. I can smell a small hint of cologne on his flesh arm. He pushes the rifle close to my chest.

“See? You can aim better at a fast moving target if you have it angled like this.” His breath tickles my neck. My heart beats fast and my hands shiver underneath his touch. I hope the shiver is not enough for him to notice. I can feel his pecs and abs pressing into my back. Such a familiar sensation against my body. I look over at him, catching his blue eyes in mine.

Small hit of memory flashes before my eyes. Smiling Bucky dancing away with me in a crowded bar. Laughing and twirling me around. I blink the vision away and clear my throat. I hold the rifle properly while looking away. His hands still holding onto mine.

“Right. I got it. Thank you, Bucky.” I say a little hesitantly. He blinks before letting my hands and the rifle go. I watch the red hints on his face grow a little.

“So for today, the handgun training ends. Tomorrow, I’ll help you out with long range shooting. It’s a lot trickier.” He says while turning his back against me.

I watch the muscles on his back move underneath his shirt. I can feel the heat from my face at the view. I wonder what scars lie underneath that shirt. I remember he had none during the nights we were together. The times when I was the one leaving fresh scratches over his clean back.

I gasp to myself at the thought.

What nights? What times? I’ve never seen Bucky shirtless before. I put the rifle away and rub my hands over my face. What kind of thoughts were running through my mind just now?

“Say, Bucky.” I start to distract my own thoughts. He looks at me.

“I’m curious, why did you choose me for your special training?” The question has been burning in the back of my mind.

There must be a reason why they want to train me and teach me all of these extra things. It couldn’t be for their own personal reasons right? This is a private compound after all.

Bucky dusts his hands off before smiling down at me.

“We heard a great deal about your excellence in leadership during your time in the military. Your friend, Jeremy, told us how you bravely dealt with the terrorists despite being outnumbered. You are quick, smart and resourceful out in the field. You take care of your teammates and make use each of their unique talents during your missions. We decided to give you this special training because we are interested in having you as one of the candidates for the position of the commander of a counter-terrorist special unit in the Avengers called, A.C.T.I.S. Or, Avengers Counter-Terrorist and International Security. So, that’s why the special training.”

My heart drops. I didn’t know how to react to those. His words run through me like a race car. So quick and sudden. But… to work for the Avengers as a commander of their special unit here? I’ve never even thought of being any more than a soldier in the army. So now to suddenly be elected as a candidate for the commander of a counter terrorist unit here is just mind blowing.

“By no means will we force you to take this offer. It is your own choice. You prefer to be out there in the field with others, then do so. You’ll at least have even better knowledge and skill than you previously have. But if you take this offer and join us, we will be out in special missions to end terror acts, or acts that threatens the safety of the Earth. It’s not as simple as the jobs of soldiers in the military. It’s much more than that.” He continues. He gives my shoulder a gentle pat.

“Think about it, all right? We’d really like you to be the new commander. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He says before leaving out the door.

I rest myself against the wall. I run my fingers through my hair. He said that like it’s not a big deal. Like I actually have a chance at becoming the commander. If I never truly had the experience of being a proper leader with a title before, how am I going to deal with this? From soldier to a commander?

True, I wanted to make a difference in the world. By joining the military, I can make that little by little. But… I am barely making progress if my job is to just guard important buildings or out for a rescue mission. Yes, they are important, but I know it in my heart that I am more than that.

If I do accept this offer, I’ll be able to make that difference I want by fighting alongside with the Avengers team. But, I’ll leave Jeremy and the rest of my team out there in Syria.

What can I do? This is a big deal. I sigh out and look over at the place where Bucky had just left. A hint of his cologne lingers in the air, masking away that hot lead smell just now.

His body left such a warm sensation against mine. It made my heart race. With his arms, body and smell close to me like that, it feels like he’s done that before so many times to me. Like he’s been with me more than what we had just done. I cover my face to shut out my thoughts.

This is not what I should be thinking about right now. I should be thinking about my team. What to do and what should I do? Take this position and leave them? Or leave this once in a lifetime chance and be with my team?

I don’t know what to do.

★ ★ ★

☀  Next Chapter >>

A/N: Ooohhhh la la! A little bit of sexy scene there. *wink wink* Maybe there will be a bit more in the following chapters? Who knows. (I do hue hue hue) And what will the reader choose? Her team or Avengers? I think it is quite clear which one she’ll end up with. ;) 

Anyways, I truly hope that you guys enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much for reading! Much love. <3

P/S: Yes, I did made up “A.C.T.I.S.”. It is not a real thing from Avengers. 

Tag(s): @shamvictoria11​  @munsurieya​  @inumorph​  @38leticia​  @anbrax5553​  @queenayles​  @inspirevato​  @zxcorra��  @bucky-barnes-pls​  @soymikael​  @summeralexander​  @ninjayjumper​ @alphaaddict​  @buckybarnesbestbabe​

[lovecrimers]

In depth analysis on Destiel [S4-S5]

4x01: Sparks LITERALLY fly when Castiel is introduced

4x01: The eyfucking saga begins

4x03: Castiel’s facial expression + shoulder touch. Soft facial expression as if pondering to himself what these feelings for Dean mean.

4x07: Castiel tries multiple times throughout the episode to redeem himself in Dean’s eyes. There isn’t any *real* reason that he should care so much about what Dean thinks of him.

4x07: Dean admits to trusting Castiel even if he’s an angel (and he doesn’t trust other angels)

4x10: Uriel: “You see he has this weakness, he likes you” and Dean looks hopeful af.

4x10: Castiel dreamwalks in Dean’s dreams and he seems completely cool with him and not awkward or nervous. He even recognizes that Castiel is doing it.

4x10: Dean saves Castiel from Alistair

4x16: Castiel get’s reprimanded by the higher ups in heaven for starting to get too “feely” with Dean. Castiel:  “ I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment.”

4x16: Castiel investigates why Dean got hurt when it was none of his concern.

4x18: Castiel is starting to doubt heaven and listen to Dean’s side. The preparations for his fall from grace set into motion because of Dean.

4x18: Castiel watches Dean in his sleep,

4x20: More Destiel dreamwalking

4x20: Dean doesn’t question Castiel asking to meet him and goes without having to be told twice. This is behavior that is VERY unlike Dean.

4x20: When they arrive and Castiel is nowhere to be found, Dean sounds and looks audibly upset.

4x20: Lol Dean tries to eyefuck Jimmy but he realizes that Jimmy isn’t reciprocating. The mutual eyefucking is ONLY present when Castiel is around and Sam takes notice of the eyefucking (or lack thereof).

4x20: Dean kind of panics when Anna tells him that Castiel was dragged back home by the angels in a very painful way.

4x20: When Jimmy & Amelia kiss, the camera pans to Dean and he looks absolutely WRECKED with jealousy.

4x20: Jimmy gets shot and Dean flips the fuck out (when he honestly wouldn’t have given that much of a damn had it been anyone else or a winged-dick)

4x21: Dean asks Castiel angrily “what the hell happened in Illinois?” referring to themselves, not including Sam.

4x21: Castiel begins to stay far away from Dean - implying that he KNOWS when he’s too close in proximity to Dean.

4x21: Castiel walks away from Dean and we’ve never seen that happen before. Usually, Dean walks away from Castiel when he’s distressed over something going on between them.

4x21: The zoom out shot is a romantic trope in movies. They stare at each other for nearly 20 seconds.

4x22: Castiel bangs Dean up against a wall,covering his mouth and leaning so close that it looks like they’re going to kiss.

4x22: Castiel chooses Dean over heaven because he freaks out over Dean being disgusted by him and wanting to give himself over to Michael. (Note: He chooses DEAN, not the Winchesters at this point, just DEAN)

5x02: Castiel: “ I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you.” case in point.

5x02: Dean gives Castiel the amulet without much fight. The amulet that Dean feels naked without. The amulet he’s been wearing since he was a kid and that is so attached to him that his soul wore it in hell.

5x03: Castiel appears less than a foot away from Dean’s face and they both stand there for a while without moving when they could easily turn away without making it too awkward

5x03: Dean refers to himself and Castiel as thelma and louise. Thelma & Louise kiss before going out  together. Gay pairing reference. THIS is the look he gives Castiel while he says it. HE IS SMITTEN.

5x03: Dean straightens Castiel’s collar and tie like a proud husband.

5x03: Dean asks what Cass wants to do on his last night on earth. Castiel just looks at Dean for a while. (Which could be taken as “you. I want to do you dean”) before responding.

5x03: Dean is surprised Castiel is a virgin. Makes VERY random unnecessary comment about Bert & Ernie being gay and exclaims he will not let Cass die a virgin. Second gay pairing reference in this ep.

5x03: Castiel implies he’s never been with a woman because he didn’t have time for it. What DID he have time for though? Watching Dean sleep the past year. Lol. 

5x03: Dean takes Castiel to a brothel and Castiel fumbles his chance to sleep with a girl. Him & Dean leave the brothel arm in arm happily laughing.

5x03: When Raphael shatters a window, Castiel automatically shields and protects Dean on instinct.

5x04: Even in the future as a strung out stoner with a sex addition, Castiel is at Dean’s side and ready to die for him at a moment’s notice.

5x04: Past dean is absolutely bewildered that future Dean would sacrifice his friends - and more importantly, that he would sacrifice Castiel, placing Castiel a step above the rest.

5x04: Future Castiel says this in a line they cut from the script: “But instead, we become this. The only thing I think we have left, Dean and me, is each other. If Dean says it’s time to go out in a blaze of glory, win or lose, so be it. I’m in. But, then... That’s just how I roll.”

5x04: There’s a 4 part argument that is prettyin depth and implies that future Castiel & Dean were in a relationship and all of camp chitaqua knew. pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

5x08: The host calls Castiel Dean’s “pretty boy angel” and it cuts to a reaction shot from Dean like he agreed.

5x08: Castiel breaks into the tv land they’re in and the trickster sends him away. Dean flips out over if Castiel is hurt. It takes Castiel possibly getting hurt for Dean to LOSE HIS COOL.

5x10: Dean calls Castiel “Huggy Bear”

5x13: Dean is considering saying yes to Michael. Sam points out John had eventually said yes to save Mary - the love of his life.

5x13: A few episodes later, Dean tries to say yes too even though he & Sam are not currently in danger....the only one in danger at that point is Castiel....

5x13: Castiel nearly collapses and Sam & Dean both help him up but they help him up in very different ways. Sam is worried about pulling Castiel up, meanwhile Dean is just worried about sticking to Castiel’s side no matter what happens or if he collapses WITH castiel. ex 1, ex 2, ex 3, ex 4

5x13: Anna dies in this episode. She was originally the one meant to be dean’s love interest endgame. That clearly didn’t pan out. I wonder why.... *cough*CASTIEL*Cough*

5X14: Dean calls Castiel and Cass appears INCHES from his face and neither of them move away for a good amount of time.

5x14: Everyone is being affected by their desires and lusts. We see Dean, doing this, towards Castiel quite a bit throughout the episode.

5x14: Dean sends Castiel in to send with Famine and freaks out with worry within seconds on the basis that Castiel is taking too long.(We see this again during 12x10) 

5x14: GEE I WONDER WHAT DEAN IS HUNGERING FOR???

5x16: Dean wears a shirt with a bear on it that says “I wuv hugs” - remember how Dean called Castiel “huggy bear?”

5x16: At the end of the episode, Castiel returns the amulet to Dean and it plays out like a sad girlfriend returning a ring to an ex lover. Dean then throws it in the trash. HMMMMM???

5x18: Dean says: "Cass, not for nothing but last person who looked at me like that, I got laid," and then winks at Castiel.

5x18: Dean says: “Blow me, Cass”

5x18: Castiel & Dean fight because Castiel took it VERY personally that Dean was hellbent on giving up.

5x21: Castiel calls Dean and tells him he is now a mortal. Dean looks absolutely broken and bewildered. Castiel then proceeds to apologize to Dean,even through his current state. Cass values Dean more than his own immortality/mortality.

5x22: Castiel tries to shield Dean from the pain of seeing his brother get killed on the battlefield.

5x22: Michael snaps bobby’s neck and kills Castiel by disnitigration. Dean seems to give up after he sees Castiel explode.

5x22: Castiel reappears, healed and tells Dean that God helped and give Dean what he wanted. Hmmmm I wonder if that also was meant to include Castiel? *wink*

I got a lot of this from tvtropes but it was really clusterfucked so I tried to write it out better.

Part 2 (Season 6 & 7)