#i thought one of them was a prince but apparently hes a military chief and his bfs parents live in the city?

[3rdsleeper]

as someone who has never watched atots i have never been so lost.

[joachimnapoleon]

I was asked by @tairin​ to write about Murat’s personality.

This is going to be a bit long and in no particular order whatsoever.

Occasionally his personality seems like a jumble of contradictions. He never fell out of love with being a soldier, grew restless and bored during times of peace, always eager to be back in the field, but then, once there, hoping to get back home to his family as soon as possible and never having to leave them again. He became a king, and viewed his authority in Naples as absolute (or as absolute as it could be with Napoleon constantly breathing down his neck), yet he never fully shed the republican principles he eagerly adopted as a young man during the French Revolution. Bold, confident, and determined on the battlefield, he was often vacillating, indecisive, and unsure of himself in politics; yet in both circumstances he was also capable of extreme rashness, and his hasty judgments often led him to taking regrettable actions.

He was, like Napoleon, bursting with energy. He always had to be doing something. Upon taking the throne of Naples, he worked so tirelessly, day and night, trying to sort through the affairs of his predecessor and get his new kingdom in order, that for a time his wife Caroline was scarcely able to see him. This energy never dissipated, even into his forties; one English visitor to Naples in 1814 described him as "endowed with a large amount of pure animal vitality, which pleasureably expended itself in the active deeds of war, but found no sufficient vent in peace." (Cole, The Betrayers, 212)

Also like Napoleon, he could be very short-tempered; but unlike Napoleon, he never quite learned to contain his rages. When Napoleon threw one of his notorious temper tantrums complete with the hurling and stomping of his hat, it was generally done for show. On the other hand, I've come across multiple anecdotes of Murat, having to be physically restrained by either his staff or his ministers from attacking someone (one of these instances occurred during the 1812 campaign, when only the exertions of his chief of staff, General Belliard, prevented him from stalking out, armed, to the tent of Marshal Davout after the two had engaged in a bitter quarrel in front of Napoleon earlier). That being said, Murat's rages, like Napoleon's, were usually of short duration, often burning out within minutes. Caroline was well aware of her husband's temperament, and did her best to try to help him keep it in check; in one letter, she gently chides him to "calm a little your head, which gets hot so easily."

He was very opinionated, open, and frank--for better or worse. Some of his letters to Napoleon are honestly just breathtaking in their forthrightness; while as a general rule he bent to his brother-in-law's will (however begrudgingly), when provoked he was not afraid to express his discontent or disagreement with a brutal honesty which undoubtedly rankled Napoleon at times. Alone among the Bonaparte family, he spoke out vigorously against Napoleon's plan to take an Austrian bride as his second wife, and urged Napoleon to marry a Russian princess instead. When it became apparent that the decision had already been decided upon beforehand, he angrily accused Napoleon of setting him up with the intention of rendering the soon-to-be empress, and by extension the Austrian royal family, hostile to him. In short, he was far from being the groveler to Napoleon some have made him out to be.

He didn't handle high-stress situations particularly well. One theory I've read is that he suffered from psychosomatic illness, and I'm inclined to believe it. In Spain in 1808, when the people began to revolt and the situation rapidly spiraled out of his control, Murat fell ill--deathly ill, to the point where it was thought he might've been poisoned. His health experienced a similar collapse during the calamitous retreat from Russia in 1812, when he was placed in charge of the disintegrating Grande Armée. And a year prior to that, in the wake of an exceptionally bad quarrel with Napoleon over Neapolitan affairs, his mental state became so bad that Caroline kept his ministers away from him for days, and his overall health suffered throughout that summer.

His general demeanor was upbeat and happy, though I would argue that this was considerably less so during the last few years of his life. But he seems to have always at least tried to preserve a cheerful outward demeanor, and numerous memoirists have remarked on his happy nature.

He could be vain and boastful; he loved telling people about his exploits in war (and with women). He did make an effort to cultivate the manners of the nobility though, wanting to fit in as well as possible after his meteoric rise into the upper echelons of society. But he seems to have gone a bit overboard with it all. Hortense de Beauharnais writes in her memoirs that

He sought to have good manners and overdid them. One saw by his exaggerated dress and his attentions to the ladies that he wished to resemble the Villarceaux and Sévignés of the days of Louis XIV. These famous courtiers were the models he had chosen, but the rough hearty republican could not be completely hidden, and the mixture of the two opposite types of character would have been ridiculous at times if one had not been conscious of the honest, frank soldier in the background who reconciled the puppets one to the other. (The Memoirs of Queen Hortense, Vol. 2)

A less charitable contemporary, the Countess Potocka, whom Murat tried and failed to seduce in 1807, writes of her first encounter with him:

It was easily seen that his manners were sham, and that he usually had others. He did not talk badly, for he watched himself carefully; but his Gascon accent and some too soldierlike phrases belied the “prince” a little. He was fond of telling of his feats of arms, and talked war to us for over an hour. (Memoirs of the Countess Potocka)

He was, as even Napoleon described him, generous and kindhearted. When he became a king, he was so eager to bestow his Order of the Two Sicilies on anyone and everyone, that Caroline chided him that he must stop doing so, as it was becoming a joke in Paris. General Pépé writes of Murat's generosity in granting the petitions of the common people, describing one instance in which Murat was thrown from his horse while in the middle of receiving a petition from a woman begging for the life of her husband; after getting back to his feet and "cursing roundly in the French fashion," Murat promptly signed the petition to spare the life of the man. However, Pépé also points out that Murat's generosity and compassion occasionally worked against his own interests:

People of all classes, and even officers in the army, were in the habit of presenting themselves to the King, as he passed through the streets, with a petition in one hand and an ink-stand in the other. The good King Joachim granted those requests with too much facility, not considering that far from increasing his popularity by such conduct, he drew upon himself feelings of hatred, since the petitions so granted were for the part such as ought not to have been entertained. His too easy compliance, therefore, was calculated to awaken discontent and distrust of the efficiency of the laws. (Memoirs of General Pépé, Vol I)

He was also extremely prone to flattery (this ties into his earlier-mentioned vanity), and apt to reward and promote those of his generals who succeeded at ingratiating themselves with him but who may not have been the best commanders in the field.

He was very independent and chafed at being under the command of someone else. This was the case for the entire duration of his military career: he was discharged from his initial enlistment for apparently participating (and possibly leading) a "mutiny" against some officers; his stint in the National Guard was brief, and he wrote to condemn the officers over him for being "royalists;" in the 21st Chasseurs à Cheval, he quickly found himself at odds with his commanding officer, Landrieux, which devolved into an ugly affair with Murat going on trial before the Committee of Public Safety; he would likewise chafe under the commands of Brune and Berthier in Italy, and, for almost the rest of his life, he would chafe under the domination of Napoleon. Especially after being made a king, which he seems to have naively believed would grant him some amount of independence from the Emperor; in reality he merely became one of Napoleon's satellites, and became increasingly embittered by it.

He could be very politically naive (see 1814 and his belief that he could keep his throne by separating himself from Napoleon). He could also be extremely paranoid. His correspondence is replete with references to "my enemies." With the exceptions of Josephine and Savary, I've never come across the names of this mysterious cabal of enemies Murat believed to be actively undermining him and turning Napoleon against him in Paris while he ruled in Naples. His paranoia occasionally extended to his wife, whom he accused at least once of being in league with his enemies--this was in a letter written during another time when Murat was under extreme stress, during his failing Sicilian campaign. In 1815, his paranoia led him to abandoning his new allies, who he believed were on the brink of turning against him; so it can be argued that this aspect of his personality, combined with his hastiness, played a large part in his final ruin. (In the wake of Napoleon's escape from Elba, the English and Austrians both, out of desperation, hurried to send Murat guarantees for his throne if he would stay true to the alliance; but they arrived too late.)

He was extremely flirtatious, loved dancing and the company of women in general, sexual or otherwise. (See here for my post on Murat and women.)

He was a doting father, obsessed with his children; and an affectionate, if not always faithful, husband.

I'm probably forgetting some stuff, but I'll leave off here. Hopefully this provides a pretty good overall understanding of Murat's personality. Feel free to toss me some asks if there's anything you'd like me to expand on, I'm always happy to talk about Murat. :)

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Capt. Syverson-Chapter One: Evaluation

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Shane Benton gets a new patient, veteran “Sy” Syverson. He’s one of the most complex cases she’s had, in more ways than one. She thinks he’s already starting to like her and what’s worse...she feels the same.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None, really, mentions of war and trauma and some hate on the Chicago Cubs, but like…it’s not MEAN! (I’m a Missouri girl, and for the purposes of this fic, Sy is a Missouri boy, and we will bleed for our sports teams. Lol!)

A/N: Inspired by this post right here, and hopefully turning into some splendid fluffy and smutty stuff for my lovely Cavillry babes all around including the two that essentially forced me into this. Lol! (I’m thinking I’ll have at least three or four more chapters.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3.

Tags: @onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive

Let me know if you wish to be added to the list! I’m happy to do it! 

Shane was working on her morning's notes as she scarfed down her lunch. So many hand's-on patients made for a busy so called "lunch hour." Time which their boss was always reminded them was only half for their personal use, and could be taken away if census demanded. She was pretty sure it wasn't legal to make such threats, but thankfully, the secretaries usually had the therapists backs.

As she typed, she got a notification in her messenger app.

Just a head's up, your 1:30 is such a major babe I could barely look at him while I checked him in, so good luck with that.

Heather, one of her best friends in the office, had warned her, as she always did when there was a potential problem with a patient.

Oh, and his KOOS score is 27.5! Yikes! Shit, she'd seen arthritic grandparents with better scores on that test, which essentially rated your ability with the affected knee. Ideal was 100. She pulled up his chart review to see what she was getting herself into with this guy.

Tricare insurance, so, a vet. And only a year older than she was, so, recent discharge, or even active duty. She pulled up his order…shit. Traumatic tear of the anterior cruciate ligament. With damage to the medial collateral ligament as well. And a patellar dislocation. Repairs had been done, but this guy was in bad shape. He was going to be coming a while.

She replied to Heather.

Damn, that's bad. I'm looking at his order, and I'm already thinking I'm gonna want to try to keep him on my schedule if we can. And three times a week. If not with me, Jordan, if he's got openings. Can you start working on that when you have time?

Sure thing…I think you'll be glad you kept him on your caseload once you get a look at his face…and like all of him. Even on crutches, he's tall as shit!

Heather, come on. I'm a professional. I have a doctorate ffs. Lol

You also have a uterus, to the best of my knowledge, and it's about to explode. Promise.

Haha, okay. I'll be out for Prince Charming in about ten. Lemme pop a breath mint and run a brush through my hair.

Good call.

Shane did just that, but still pulled her dark hair back into her customary functional high ponytail, made sure there was no stray food on her shirt, and headed out of her treatment room for her patient.

As she walked down the hall to the waiting area to get him, she noticed a slumped and bearded figure leaning forward on a set of crutches, a KC Chiefs baseball cap slipping up off of his forehead revealing short cropped dark hair. She smiled at his repping one of her home teams, and stepped up to him, greeting him warmly, but formally.

"Mr. Syverson?"

"Ma'am." he said, as he adjusted his cap and stood immediately at attention, still relying on the crutches, but making himself as tall as possible. He really was a soldier. Despite her proximity to Fort Leonard Wood here in St. Robert, Missouri, she didn't see many military men.

"Hi, My name is Shane. I'm a physical therapist. I'm going to be working with you today."

"Oh, okay. They told me my therapists name was Shane, I figured…"

"Yeah, I get that a lot. Don't worry, I act like one of the guys. You'll hardly notice."

"I doubt that." he muttered, but she ignored it. She didn't know which would be worse. Him being a macho chauvinist who couldn't deal with a female therapist, or having a crush on her and making things weird. She'd had both. And it never ended well for her.

"Well, let's go have a chat in the treatment room."

They walked toward the room she'd just left, and when they arrived, she asked him to set on her plinth mat.

"Could you please verify your date of birth for me? Gotta make sure I got the right patient in here."

"May the 5th, 1983."

"Thanks, and the last four of your social?"

He told her, quietly, and against her will, a shiver ran up her spine at the softness the bear of a man exhibited in his voice when trying to maintain privacy. But she kept her composure.

"Excellent." she began typing her eval note, and asking him questions. He began telling the harrowing story of the mission, the mission that effectively ended his career in the military as he knew it. At lest, what he could tell her. Obviously some of it was classified, but certain details she would need to know in order to know how he it and how to treat him. She could tell he was trying to hold it together. Reliving the trauma was probably triggering to an extent. Her heart went out for the broad-chested, blue-eyed man.

"God, that's incredible. The fact that you're alive is amazing, Mr. Syverson."

"I go by Sy, ma'am. And as aware as I am of that, it's tough to feel good about it when some friends in my squad weren't so lucky." he examined the pattern on the tile floor as he rubbed the heel of his hand against the wide thigh of his injured leg. A nervous habit, she presumed. She had similar quirks.

"That must be difficult for you." she knew she was getting off-track from what she needed for her SOAP note, but after all, he was going to be on her caseload exclusively for the foreseeable future. She'd have time to flesh out the goals and basically finish the eval next visit.

"Yeah, but I know there's a lotta guys' got it worse'n me, ma'am."  

"We think that should make it better, but it never does. And if I'm calling you 'Sy,' you have to cut the ma'am business. It's Shane, even to my patients." she smiled.

"Sorry, m--sorry. Habits die hard."

"Just like John McClean." she chuckled, not expecting him to get her ridiculous movie humor. But he laughed.

"Did you just make a Die Hard reference?" he smiled, and the sunshine of it paired with the stunning blue of his eyes nearly sent her flying into the wall. Thankfully, she had something to occupy her gaze in the form of her laptop, where she tried to document on him.

"Did you just get one of my movie references? Because nobody around here appreciates that I'm a total movie nerd. I'm wasted on these people."

"Ya know, maybe you're right about feeling like I'm getting PT from a guy." he chuckled.

"I told ya!" she laughed, but tried not to let her heart sink too far.

The evaluation continued with her doing strength and range of motion measurements on his knee. "Okay, push against my hand…now resist when I push…now bring your foot back against my hand…and resist when I pull." she did this with both sides to compare relative strength. "Great job. Okay, I'm going to see how much range you have in your knee. Lay back on the table for me, please." she thought she saw a flirty glint in his eye, but again, she ignored it. She had a job to do. And it was to hold this goniometer up to his knee and see how many degrees of flexion and extension this man had in the joint while trying not to think any salacious thoughts about the thigh connected to it.

"Okay, now, listen, Sy, I know it goes against your instinct, but I'm looking for pain-free range of motion, here, so don't be a hero. Don't move it farther than you can without hurting it. And let me know if it starts to hurt when I move it."

"Yes, ma'am." he winked.

"I'll let that one slide, I guess." she giggled. She concentrated on the numbers she was getting from the big protractor, and typing them into her eval, and not the man lying before her.

"Okay, I'm gonna get the other knee now to compare for goals."

He nodded.

"Were you pretty active before this happened?" she was more or less making small talk, as she could tell by the condition of the rest of his body that he was incredibly fit.

"Yes, m--yes, I was. We had a gym on base, nothin' like what y'all have here, just some machines and a few free weights."

"No bikes or treadmills or anything?" She herself liked the elliptical, but knew it was a considered more of a girl's machine in the gym world.

"Nah, with electric being spotty where we were stationed, we sorta had to…get creative, I guess you could say, for cardio." she let it slide, apparently there was an inside joke to which she wasn't privy.

"Right, understandable. Well, here, we don't have to get that creative. I'm gonna put you on some equipment gradually, and just warm up the knee, then get to work on joint mobilization and myofascial release. But at this point in Dr. Potter's protocol, he only wants gentle stretching and weight bearing as tolerated. We can start a bit of strengthening after next week."

"So, you think I'll be back to running anytime soon?"

"We can make that a goal, Sy, because I can absolutely get you there. But you're going to have to take it slow. You've got not one, but three major injuries we have to contend with, and there is major trauma in there. But it will heal. With time and effort. And like I said, don't be a hero. The number one rule of therapy is 'if it hurts, don't do it.'"

"I'll hold you to that, m--Shane."

"You're a quick study, Sy. I think you'll be alright. Looks like Heather's put some appointments in for you already. If any of them don't work, call us, and we'll try to get them swapped. I'd like to keep you on my schedule as much as possible, but if there's a conflict in your schedule, any of our therapists will be terrific. And I'll make sure they're looking at your chart and protocol thoroughly before seeing you."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Okay, I'm gonna print out your schedule for you, and a few exercise handouts I'd like you to work on, especially on days you don't come here. And I'll know if you don't do them, because you won't have improved…so, you better do them."

"Yes, ma'am." she half expected a salute. She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, maybe I'll give you three strikes on the ma'am thing."

"Baseball fan, too?"

"Not that three strikes is so obscure that I'd have to be to know it, but, yes! Major St. Louis Cardinals fan."

"I knew I was gonna like you from the start. Although, being brought up 'round Kansas City m'self, I'm more of a Royals fan."

"Hey, only time I don't root for KC is when they're playing my Redbirds. And even if my team loses to them, it hurts less than if they lose to, say…the Cubs." they shared a scowl of disdain for the Chicago team. "Although, I was happy for them and their fans when they won the series back in 16."

"Yeah, I guess we could afford to let them win one in a hundred years…I'm hoping their next one comes long after I'm in the ground." he chuckled.

"Can't have them getting a big head, can we?"

"Nope! Sure can't!" they both laughed at their mutual interest in dissing rival sports teams.

"Okay, I'll be right back with those handouts." she ran to the office all in one machine to grab the papers she'd printed for him, making sure they were all his and not another patient's. She put them in one of their folders and headed back to her room where he sat on the mat, waiting for her with a smile under his rather impressive beard.

"Before I let you out of here, what questions can I answer for you about what we did today?"

"Oh, uh, nothing comes to mind. You explained everything really well. Did you look at my schedule? Am I with you all the time?"

"Hmm, let's see here, looks like the next two, yes, but I'm off next week, so Heather put you with Jordan, which is what I asked her to do. You two will work great together and he's got a great instinct for injuries like this. And I'll talk to him before I leave. He's one of the best PTAs I've ever worked with, I promise."

"I guess, if you have to take a vacation. I'll see you next time though."

"I'm looking forward to it. That's when the real work will begin, Sy. And our number is on in this paperwork if you have questions, and I've put my card in here, too." they shook hands, and he grabbed the folder from her.

She saw him out of the room and into the lobby. She'd finished with him a bit early, but her next one was already waiting. She needed a break. To collect herself. To breathe.

"Jason! Hey! Go on and get on the recumbent bike, level two. Ride until I get there. We'll get a lot done today if you're already warmed up. I've got a note to finish. And then I'll be in. I should be 15 or less."

While the 19 year old with a torn meniscus hopped to her instructions, she went back to her computer to attempt to finish Sy's eval and pretend that she didn't already have a serious and intense crush on him. This was going to be a long twelve weeks…at least.

Up Next: Chapter Two-Therapeutic Procedure

[josefavomjaaga]

Letters from 1814

All texts, as usual, from Helfert, "Joachim Murat"

Mier to Metternich. (postscript, in chiffres]. Naples 8 July 1814.

My Prince!

The Sieur Baudus who, when the King of Naples declared war on France, had given his resignation from the place of Sub-Governor to the Princes, who is among the most vocal against the party that the King had chosen, and who intrigued together with the Minister of Finance to tie the King to the interests of Napoleon and to make him break all the engagements contracted with our court, and did all he could to make him slow and indecisive in his steps and to inspire him with distrust against Austria (protected moreover by the Queen and enjoying her confidence), he remained until now in Naples under various excuses always hoping that the King would restore him in his place. Seeing himself deceived in his hopes he determined to choose another battlefield for his intrigues. He succeeded in persuading the King and even more the Queen that by means of his relations with Talleyrand he could be very useful to them at the Congress of Vienna where this Minister is due to go.

The day before yesterday he left for Munich, from where he plans to go to Vienna. As this clever and skilful man will not fail to present himself to Your Highness, I thought it necessary to give Him an idea of this in order to put Him on his guard against the machinations of this intriguer.

I have the honour etc.

When I read »Munich«, I think »Eugène«. Unfortunately, I could not find out if Baudus met with Eugène there. But it would have been possible, Eugène seems to have remained in Munich for most of July and only went to Baden in August.

I did however find an interesting passage in a biography on Caroline Murat by Florence de Baudus that relates to this departure. Apparently, Murat got so anxious and desperate about the last French of his suite leaving his court that Caroline had to ask Agar to calm him and prevent he actually acted against them in his outrage.

In Vienna, Baudus met with Metternich and seems to have received plenty of reassurance for Murat. Beugnot, chief of police in Paris, already knows that Metternich has declared himself a friend of the Murats, much to te chagrin of Louis XVIII.

Mier to Metternich, Naples this 21st October 1814.

My Prince!

Not having been informed about Capitaine Malkzewski being sent as a courier to Vienna, I was not able to take advantage of his departure to pass on to Your Highness my present report: General Boulnois in the service of France, lieutenant in the Garde du Corps, who last had been charged with handing over Corfu to the allied troops, arrived in this capital during the night of the 12th to the 13th. He immediately asked to be admitted to the King. His Majesty granted his request. He began his speech with a thousand protestations of attachment and admiration for the King and told Him that he would take charge of the overtures or proposals which His Majesty would like to make to Louis XVIII, and which would be accepted only through his channel; that he would send a courier to his government on the spot or would bring them to his attention himself; that Louis XVIII was a great admirer of the King's military talents; that Sovereigns must put their personal and family interests above those of their people; that one wished to know in France the views and the policy of the King, the conduct which He would hold if war were to resume; that by his position and the means which He has at his disposal, He could not remain a simple spectator; that He could play a great role in Italy whose inhabitants are dissatisfied with the present order of things and ask only for a leader; that one could agree on many things etc. etc.

The King, who immediately became aware of the purpose of this chatter, asked him if he had any full powers in writing; if he was authorised by his government to enter into negotiations on this matter. On his negative answer His Majesty told him that He had no overtures or proposals to make to France, that He only asked her to be recognised as King of Naples, a thing she could not refuse, in conformity with the treaty concluded with Austria; that He hoped that the tranquillity of the continent would not be disturbed, but that, if unfortunately the war was rekindled, the course of his policy and his views would be entirely in conformity with those of Austria, his ally; that He and his army were at the disposal of this friendly power, and that united with it he was responsible for the tranquillity of Italy; that He nourished no other desire than to remain quiet possessor of his Kingdom and to work for the happiness of his subjects etc.

General Boulnois, seeing that he could not lead the King on this line to some false steps which would compromise him with respect to his Allies, set up his batteries in the opposite direction and said to the King that the principal goal of his voyage to Naples was the business of Marshals Macdonald and Oudinot which relates to the donations which they have in this Kingdom. This matter gave him occasion to speak of the discontent which reigned in France, of the spirit which animated the Marshals General and the French army in general; that Louis XVIII would support himself with difficulty on the throne; that the King possessed the confidence of the French army; that He led it so often to victory that his will and his person could bring about great changes in France; that He could count on being supported by the whole army and a large part of the nation; and many other similar statements, in opposition to what he had just said at the beginning.

The King treated this gentleman as he deserved, and made it clear to him that He was not the dupe of the schemes which were being set up to lose Him. This General, who stopped for a few days in Genoa, then in Ancona, and travelled through part of the Kingdom of Naples, is still here. As he has spent a fairly long time with the French army in this Kingdom, he has a lot of knowledge and is trying to gather information on what relates to the internal position of this country. I suppose that the government will not allow him a long stay in this Capital.

I have the honour of sending herewith to Your Highness the Moniteur de Naples, which contains the royal decree on the endowments made by Napoleon in this Kingdom, motivated by the order of 18 September published in France.

May Your Highness accept the assurances of my highest consideration.

It is interesting how Louis XVIII, having barely been properly seated on the throne, was already preoccupied with the fate of his distant Neapolitan relatives.

The next letter Helfert offers in his book already is from after the Congress of Vienna had been opened (do we need another timeline for this period?).

Metternich to Mier (concept). Vienna on November 6, 1814.

The Duke of Campo-Chiaro sends today General Filangieri as a courier to Naples, and I take advantage of this occasion to send you the present dispatch.

The Duke's reports undoubtedly contain very detailed data on the present position of things in Vienna. There are very great objects occupying the powers gathered under the name of Congress; united by the intention of removing the difficulties which would arise from too complicated forms, the powers with objects of open discussion have taken the step of establishing direct negotiations, to which the presence of the sovereigns and of several heads of cabinet lend every facility.

France, together with the other branches of the Bourbon House, has up to now aimed at bringing the Neapolitan question into the arrangements of Europe in consequence of the treaty of Paris. Our cabinet has constantly resisted this move, basing itself on the text of its treaties with the Court of Naples, and on the principle that it cannot question the existence of an independent power whose fate is in no way linked to that of the dynasty which has been expelled from the throne of France.

Oops. Sorry, Caroline. Seems Metternich just erased your name from the Bonaparte family tree.

I beg you, Count, to invite the Duke of Gallo to bring you up to date on the details which Monsieur de Campo-Chiaro is bound to send him of the discussions that have so far taken place on these important subjects. They will prove to the Court of Naples the constancy of the course of His Imperial Majesty in accordance with the principles which have always guided his cabinet. The Emperor has never violated the faith of treaties and he never will.

Uhm. Can I please quote Archduke Charles here? »Of course I have no problems breaking a treaty...«

The more His Majesty should be reassured about the impossibility of her being exposed to an attack from the coast or on the land, the more it would be desirable that He should not, by extraordinary measures, reawaken the fear in Italy about chimerical dangers. Complications are often created by wishing to forestall them in too anxious a manner. The attitude of the King, the only one in conformity with his true interests, must be that of calm. He is at home, his army is fine, he has between him and France all the Austrian forces; let him come to an agreement with the only immediate neighbour, let him follow the indications which must also have been given to him by the Duke of Campo-Chiaro, and let him put himself in the position of a power which does not seek quarrel with any other, but which would repel any attack. The only possible one being on the side of the sea, any demonstration on the opposite side is not only useless, but it is harmful to his interests, in that it furnishes pretexts to the malicious to slander the intentions of the King, and gratuitous grounds for supposition to the opposite party, that the Court of Naples is not entirely confident of the intentions of Austria.

These considerations, which arise from the very nature of things, may be brought to the King's attention by you, as having come directly from me. You will add the assurance that, if ever the rest of Italy were to be threatened (which there is no appearance of) by an enemy outside, or by parties within its bosom, His Imperial Majesty would not only count on the support of His Majesty in the same cause, but that He would be the first to call upon the support of the King.

The Duke of Campo-Chiaro finds himself placed as a Minister in Congress in the same attitude as are those of all the other powers. I congratulate myself on having been able to put aside all the questions which might have complicated his position by isolating him, it would in no case have been entirely so, for the existence of the Grand Duke of Tuscany is no less contested by the Spanish Court than that of the King of Naples.

Receive etc.

I guess what Metternich is trying to say here is: Mier – for the love of god, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid!

[lady-plantagenet]

♦ for all three sons of York! 😄

Asked via the Headcanon Meme: https://lady-plantagenet.tumblr.com/post/634584063141920769/headcanon-meme.

Darling I apologise for the delay 😭😂, hope you enjoy this semi-historical train of thought. You indulge me xx ☺️☺️ (rest of you get ready for a similar level of uncalled for ridiculous levels of detail)

♦ - Quirks/Hobbies Headcanons

~Edward IV~

Ok, one more grounded in reality and some more Headcanonish:

So, in Lord Edward Lytton-Bulwer’s ‘Last of the Barons’ I uncovered a fascinating (and primary-sourced) fact about our Edward: He engaged in international trades of his own. Apparently, he had his own ships and vessels that would jettison wool to and fro Burgundy. The trading classes, with whom Edward was always on great terms, were initially thrilled and felt a bit of sense of connection because of this. However, it became a bit of a bother when his self-given exemption from custom and duties gave him an unfair competitive advantage. Since reading that, I’ve always seen Edward as someone whose hobbies revolve around these types of matters rather than military ones. I really headcanon trading as a genuine hobby of his. With that, I would also connect other practical as opposed to artistic or conventional pastimes. I always saw Elizabeth Woodville as the big account manager (based on how she ran her crown property), so I headcanon Edward as liking to meddle in the external more merchantile matters, which translates to enjoying himself by making wagers/bets with those around him and always winning whether it be on personal matters or businesses (sometimes even in appropriately on women of the court). Not to mention a talent at games like cards and dice. If he lived today he would be the grand master of monopoly 😂. He wasn’t the most intellectual of men (he was at one point planning on defunding Eton College to get funds), but I always headcanoned he was pretty strong at maths (which was part of a nobleman’s education, but at that time it was mastery of the arts that granted you the reputation of a smartman). Of course, this fits in with his historical interest in alchemy, which I headcanon he was also partly interested in because of the potential of it yielding gold, but upon his marriage, the mystical side beckoned him too.

~ George Duke of Clarence~

I’ve done one for him here, which you can check out. But hell, do I have a lot of headcanons about him so I’ll do another here.

Our George was by all accounts a talented demagogue. His performance in the inheritance dispute indeed adds stock to what chronicles such as Rous Rolls and Crowland have said about his oratory and reasoning talents (which allegedly were rival to Edward’s own). Though some personality quirks could make him appear like a bit of a (popular Headcanon nowadays) himbo: penchant for airing out his grievances, flamboyancy and a great pride which combined with a famous sense of humour leads to instances where it verges into innappropriate levels of macabre (his own death being the prime example).

N.b: and yes I do in fact believe he was drowned in a barrel of wine and by his choosing. I don’t need Shakespeare to tell me this, I need only look at the strong evidence proposing this: a) Margaret Pole’s barrel charm, b) The fact that his head was reported as attached to his body when his body was exhumed centuries later. Drowning in a bath is another possibility, but then again, it was famously a womanly execution and I doubt a man as self-important as George would have been alright with the association, c) The fact that contemporaries such as Mancini (among others) have stated that this is the manner in which he died. Shakespeare’s play just further reflects that at that time (as in closer to 1478 then we are now) this was the consensus. Not to mention that in Richard III he wasnt technically drowned but stabbed and then thrown in a barrel. Arguments against center around ‘this seems just a bit too crazy’ but stop there.

So where was I? Oh yes. So in spite of that, I headcanon teenage George as very resentful of those who thought him bumbling, giddy and unserious (young Richard especially), because well, he was very touchy about his pride and saw himself as a prince worthy of deference and gravity (multitude of evidence for this). His charming nature never left him even as he grew bitter but instead he learned to harness it into a mask in order to induce others into error and subestimation. Indeed, much of his earlier successes hinged on the fact that Edward didn’t expect that level of planning (and betrayal) from him. Nevertheless, he never hid his talents completely, he had a very astute legal mind and I headcanon him as having a hobby for the law since he was a young boy and realised how useful this knowledge would prove in time and loved it on an intellectual level as he engaged with debates on matters from trusts laws to constitutional canonical and jurisprudential matters, first with his tutors, then his brothers, then Warwick and then his chief supporters and friends at Warwick and Tutbury when he became a magnate post-1472. Of course, I feel like this fits in with the impression of an argumentative and opinionated man as exuded from the historical figure. I also headcanon him as being delighted to have had Caxton’s Games and Playes of Chess (1474) dedicated to him (becoming one of his patron around this time historically). It remains the second book printed in English (first being Anthony’s dictes and sayings of philosophers - I think) and I headcanon him as doing the head in of all those around him with discussions and debates around the book’s message XD.

~Richard III~

Richard gets a reputation in fiction (where other people get most of their headcanons from) as being extremely serious. I personally share this Headcanon and I feel it was the most striking difference between him and his brothers’ personalities. I think he had very little ‘quirks’ as it were. Though there was this author (haven’t read the book) Jonathan Hughes who somehow manages to write an entire book about Richard’s interesting divination. He draws onto some vaguely paganistic symbols among Richard III’s choice of clothing and such, and posits that he had some interest in pre-conquest Northern religious culture. Anne Neville who by all accounts seemed to have had some interest in mysticism (read and discussed Ghostly Grace by a German mystic with her mother-in-law at length) I headcanon bonded with Richard over conversing on these types of topics. Therefore, I headcanon him as having a (very very lowkey because, as I said, he took great care in presenting himself as conventional and unsuspicious) hobby for northern paganisms, myths, prophecies and the like. I think it would explain what appears to be the historical figures ‘apparent hypocritical personality: Only banning benevolences after first trying to acquire them, having Shore pay penance when he himself had fathered bastards (John probably during his first year of marriage if Kendall’s reasoning is right) and aspiring and holding others to strict chivalric values of which he often fell short. The signs of stress found in isotopic analysis on his bones however makes me think that he was aware of these contradictions. Of course, he could have been stressed around the time of his death for other obvious reasons, but I’m not getting into that here. I suppose my headcanon of him as very utilitarian (yes I know Bentham came centuries later but, you know, he didn’t exactly invent this manner of thought) in his beliefs classifies as a quirk? Haha. As for hobbies, I think his scoliosis made him eschew some of the more physically demanding types of sports, so I see him as fairly bookish and like his brother George, extremely interested in the law as a hobby (though nowadays we wrongly see it as a rather vocational discipline). Though he shared the interest in matters of jurisprudence with George (about which they both strongly disagreed Richard taking the less fiscally conservative stance), he was more interested in criminal law matters (which checks out as he had made reforms on the criminal law and bail). I think he was genuinely concerned with justice, just a bit self-contradictory in his approach and diverse in his spirituality (the last more headcanonish)

[rosierocks30]

Hidden: CH.17

Chapter 17: Paranoia 

(Eren)

It’s been a few days, since Eren found Eve or Natasha. He had noticed how his girlfriend had been acting strange. She was distant towards him. Eren wanted to know if he had done something wrong to make her feel like that. He thought about it. Deep down he didn’t do anything to pissed her off recently. Maybe she’s just naturally moody. He’ll let her be for now. 

The titan shifter was walking along with the group to the location where Commander Hange and her last remaining soldiers were. The forest was dense. Everyone stopped to see two Scouts soldiers and two men who dressed like Connor. Probably they’re assassins. Connor had mentioned it at one point. 

“Halt. Enemies or Allies?” One of the soldiers said with their rifle pointed at them.

Both Commanders Rico and Nile reassure them. “At ease, men. I’m commander Rico Brzenska of the Garrison Regiment. Your commander, Hange had sent one of her men to find us to work together.” Rico said. 

The other soldier lowered his rifle. “I’m sorry Commanders, we have been on edge for days or weeks. We couldn’t recognize either of you. Please follow us. We’ll lead you to our cabin.” The group followed the soldiers while the assassin hid in the shadows to patrol for any danger. 

Eren used his hood to hide his face just in case. This will be the first time he’ll see some of his old friends and Commander. He knows what’s waiting for him. He deserved it for being misguided. He noticed Eve also hid her face. She had her reasons for being Levi’s granddaughter from the future. Soon, she’ll meet her young version of her granddaughter. 

As the group got closer, Eren felt nervous. He will get a legendary beating from his friends and mostly from his former captain, Levi Ackerman. Sadly, he won’t get to see Armin nor Mikasa since they are in Marley for a mission. One day, he will be reunited with his best friends. 

Finally, they reached the cabin. There are people busy outside. Only a few people  entered the cabin in which he was one of them. Natasha was outside sitting alone on a bench. Before he turned away, he noticed that Ricky was walking towards his girl and sat next to her. This asshole, why all of sudden he decided to talk to her again? Didn’t he distance himself from her? It doesn’t matter right now. Eren may be irritated about seeing Rick being close to his girlfriend, but he has other important matters at this moment. He trusts his girl. That's all it matters. 

Once he’s inside the cabin, Commander Hange was standing in the middle. On her left, a man he never met; but Connor gave a description of William Miles, Mentor of the Assassins. On her right, Jean, his former rivalry and comrades glared straight at Eren. Fuck, here goes nothing. 

“Oh look, the traitor is here. What the hell are you doing here, bastard?” Jean was pissed off when he saw Eren in her view. 

Commander Hange raised her hand to gesture Jean to stop talking before things got ugly. “He’s here because Armin had vouch for him as an ally now.” 

Jean shut his mouth. He doesn’t see why they should trust Eren. Wasn’t he the one of the reasons this nation became shit? Sure, the Templars made the first move to attack Paradis and Marley, but Eren and his precious Jaegerists had secretly worked against them before this sudden war. 

Niles spoke as a reminder why they are here. “In these difficult times, we will need allies to defeat these invaders. We will need Eren the most especially Zeke and the Jaegerists still believe Eren is on their side. This is an opportunity to defeat them and that imposter, Lord Nathaniel. Our true ruler is Queen Historia Reiss.” 

“That’s wonderful news. This will make it a bit easy to make a surprise attack.” Hange said. 

William nodded in agreement. “We only have one of my assassins acting as a spy. So far, he mentioned, the Queen is safe but apparently, my grandson got caught.” He frowned at the thought of his grandson, Levi being kept on the animus machine. The same machine he and his youngest son, Desmond had been on. The side effect was served. The longer you spend time in that machine; you start developing the Bleeding Effect which could lead to sucide from the madness it causes. One of the victims, Clay Kaczmarek or Subject 16 took his life because of the madness of the Bleeding Effect. 

Rico Brzenska was confused. “Your grandson? You mean the Captain Levi is captured? As Humanity’s Strongest is held hostage?” 

Hange and Niles looked at each other then at the new Commander of the Garrison. 

“We have a lot to discuss to catch you up.” Hange spoke. 

Rico looked concerned in what had happened since  she and Niles had been in hiding.  Eren on the other hand was more concerned in the condition about Historia. He heard rumors that the queen gave birth to the baby but it had lived for a few minutes. He doesn’t know if it’s true or not. After all Natasha is the granddaughter of Historia and Levi. Either the baby had survived and was saved somewhere or both Levi and Historia had another child. 

“Let’s all sit. I’m sure both commanders are exhausted from your journey here.” William gestured his hand to lead everyone to the table ahead. 

Everyone nodded then started to walk towards the table. They all sat on to their chairs. Once they are comfortable enough, both Hange and William explain to Rico from Historia’s pregnancy to her secret relationship and marriage to Levi. Finally, they mentioned the birth of the prince. Eren sighed in relief the child survived and now Sasha is protecting him all the way across the world. 

“Huh, the Captain and her Majesty? That’s a pairing you never see coming.” Rico said. She had absorbed what had been said to her. 

“I was actually surprised too when they told me to be their witness. Armin was the first when he accidentally eavesdropped on them.” Hange chuckled from remembering when they came clean to her. 

“Still I didn’t expect Captain Levi Ackerman to pursue a relationship with the queen. He’s so-” Rico was interrupted. 

“Stoic, aloof, cold, and reversed…” Eren  spoke out in a soft tone. “But, I can see why Historia had fallen for him. He’s dedicated, loyal, empathic. He and the queen have so much in common it’s hard to believe if we don’t know them too well.” 

“I’m surprised you’re telling us this especially from your little stunt the last time we have seen you, Jaeger.” Hange raised her brow curiously from his words. 

“I was not myself that day…” Eren looked down in shame. The odd artifact he has in his possession was powerful to control him. He was the thing he despised most. A slave. He still has it but made sure to be very careful so it won’t possess him again. Historia is a beautiful woman. If he was a normal man, he would crush on her like his old former comrades had done. 

Dating or having a crush on any girl wasn’t on his agenda until he met Natasha. Before meeting her, he had dreams about her. That time he didn’t know who she was or what she would be for him. The first dream about her had awakened his sexual desire. He remembered that first dream still. She wore a white see through dress with a flower crown made of lavender and winter roses. The setting was in a dense forest with some sunlight shining through the trees. Eren could feel a heavy mystical energy. He had thought she was some goddess trying to contact him like this Minerva being. He had followed her as she playfully ran and giggled. It sounds so innocent and pure so he thought. Finally, she turned around to face him to speak. 

“If you want me, you have to seduce me…” 

“Show me, how much you desire me...only me.” 

 Then that innocent phase had disappeared when her dress slipped off from her flawless body. Her long wavy chocolate brown hair flowed from the light breeze. Her breasts were covered by her long. The way her eyes stared was full of daring, lust, and passion. He wants to get closer to feel her if she’s real. She had a mischievous smirk while taking a bite of a red apple then a yellow snake slowly slither down from the tree to her shoulder and further between her breasts. 

That’s when he woke up with an erection. It was painful too. Eren shook a bit to focus on why he’s here. 

“I see. You looked like a mad man that day, but if you show any signs of madness or an act of betrayal, I would hesitate to put a bullet in your head but your a titan holder of three so don’t worry, I won’t hold back to make you pay for it, so don’t test me. Do we have an understanding?” Hange glared firmly as her tone was dark. Eren thought Levi was scary but Hange had taken first place in that category. 

“Yes, Commander Hange. I swear on my mother’s soul.” Eren said with a serious tone. 

“But you still have a long way to have our complete trust with you.” Rico added. 

Silence had took over the group. Then Will broke the silence. “We are going to need two more spies for the plan to work.” 

Everyone stared at the Mentor Assassin. They all wanted to take their home back and end the war for good. 

“Armin is going to ask Mikasa to have her convince the nation, Hizuru, to ally with us again. In return, we’ll give them what they want, our resources. Since Marley is under attack by the Templars; Armin vouchers for the new Commander in Chief wants to make a peace treaty and ally with us to defeat this war. Since the three of you are the last hold that represent this nation and Her Majesty’s military, it’s your call. But I would let old grudges go for the sake of this island and the rest of the world. If the Templars win to gain control of this side of the world, the next will be the other side where my home is and the infant crown prince is located.” Will said. 

“Even though we do like the Marleyans for their attacks from many years ago; I will put aside my differences to save my country, my people, and my family.” Niles said. 

Rico sighed. She can’t let her bad judgment ruin the opportunity that will ensure a better future. “I agree. We’ll have a peace treaty and allied with our former enemies.” 

Will turned to his lover to await her answer. “Hange?” 

Zoe Hange was contemplating while tapping her finger on her chin. “Oh I’m all forward with teaming up the Marleyans. So who’s the new guy in power in their military?” She asked. 

“Reiner Braun, the Armor Titan.” Will said. 

Everyone was shocked. The Marleyans would have never chosen an Eldian as their higher up. This explained why all the sudden they want to have peace and have an alliance. 

“So, do we all agree to accept this new alliance with Marley?” Jean said. 

“Yeah, I will use the telecommuter to talk to Armin.” Hange said. 

“Zoe, it's called a laptop.” William corrected her. She chuckled embarrassingly. “Oh how silly me. I’m still getting the hang of it.” 

 “Who do we choose to spy on Jaegerists and the imposter?” Rico said. 

“Hm, Eren can be a double agent to spy on the Jaegerists. For the templars, we have Reggie spying on the templars and the grandmaster. So that leaves for spying the imposter.” Niles contemplated on who they should pick for that part. 

Rico glanced at the window to see certain figures sitting on the bench talking to each other. “We can use Rick and Eren’s girl as spies. One spy for the King and the girl can play the queen’s handmaiden.” 

Eren glanced at where Natasha was outside still chatting with the other guy. He glared at Rico for considering that. 

“No. She’s not part of any of this! Are you trying to put her in danger? Absolutely not.” He was angry for the Garrison Commander wanting to put his Eve in danger. “Can you choose someone else?”

“Eren. Stand down. Remember what I said earlier?” Hange said. This made the titan holder stop talking but the expression was still upset. 

“Take it easy Jaeger. The girl is perfect since she’s not recognizable. Plus, having you and Rick close to her; I’m sure she will be safe. The Jaegerists are allied with the templars and Lord Evans. So having a few more spies in each factor, it will give us the chance to get enough information to destroy them once and for all.” Rico continued.

Eren sat back down trying to contain his anger. This is what he’s afraid of. Having his girlfriend in a dangerous place and being killed. Oh fuck, he hopes it does not come to that or he’ll awaken the Rumbling to have the world wipe. She’s the reason why he’s considering his original plan to be at halt. The thought of losing her will be the same pain as the day he lost his mother. 

While he was absorbed in his paranoia, he didn’t realize one of the soldiers had already called Natasha and Rick to enter. He could hear her light hearted laughter when she made her appearance alongside Rick. He turned his body to peek a glimpse at her. Eren can’t believe how lucky he is to have a woman like her loving him. She may have so many flaws, but she always has a fiery spirit that overshadows her other qualities. His green eyes stared into grey ones. Natasha gave a warm smile then her sight focused on all three commanders, the Mentor, Jean, and him. 

“Rick and Eren’s girl, we have a very important task for the both of you.” Rico said which Natasha became annoyed at how Rico didn’t bother to say her name. Eren had told both Nile and Rico of her name yet only Rico kept calling her Eren’s girl, Girl, or Useless wanderer. 

“What task would it be, Commander Brzenska?” Rick curiously to his superior officer. 

“I’m glad you ask, Private Rick.” The Garrison Commander continued. 

“We want both of you along with Eren to be our spies. All three of you will go undercover but you guys will go into different factors. Eren will go back to the Jaegerists to play his role as their leader. You, Private, will go undercover as one of the king’s trusted guards. The girl will go undercover as one of Queen Historia’s closest handmaidens.” Rico was interrupted by Natasha. 

“I’m not Girl or any of the names you label me. My name is Eve. E...V...E. Eve.” Her tone was feisty. Rico grunted from being disrespected. 

“You should watch your tone when you're speaking to a commander.” The platinum blonde woman glared at the brunette. 

“Thank god you’re not my commander or I’m not in the military when I could get court martial for defining a superior officer.” Eve said. 

“Ok ok both of you. We’re not here to fight, right Commander Rico?” Nile glanced at Rico hoping she doesn’t keep provoking. These two had always argued ever since they met. They just don’t like each other. 

“Eve? What a unique name for a lovely woman.” William said to get Eve on their side. 

“Yeah, my parents were very religious.” Eren knows that’s a lie but she needed to invent some background so suspicious won’t arise. 

“Eve what?” William continues. 

“Eve or my full name is Eveline Potts.” Natasha continued. 

“Your accent is familiar. Are you from the States?” He said.

“Yes, I’m from New Orleans, Louisiana. I was here by accident. I was adventuring in the ocean with my boat then I got caught into a storm that drifted here on this island.” Her tone seemed very convincing if Eren didn’t know the truth. She’s seriously a very good liar. 

William nodded and took her words for it. “Very well. Can you perform this task? I promise you once the war is over. My assassins and I will happily take you back home.” 

“I can. If you need me to be a queen’s handmaiden, then you got the right person.” She made a graceful courtesy that high born ladies do. She had one of her famous smirks. 

Hange was observing. To her, this girl has a bit resembling a dear friend of hers. Maybe the commander is seeing things. Well, it doesn’t matter. They got their spies. 

“Tomorrow, all three of you will go to the capitol and play your part. Assassin Garcia will assist both Rick and Eve on getting into the new positions as royal guard and handmaiden.” Will said. 

Once everything was settled, both Eren and Eve were finally alone in a room where they will rest for the night until the following day. Eren had held his feelings of agreeing letting his girlfriend take the role as a spy. 

“Eve. Why did you agree in taking the task? You don’t have to join the cause or anything. It’s dangerous. You could get caught or worse get killed.” Eren sounded frustrated but also worried. 

“Eren, I know you're upset and worried for my safety, but I can handle this. Please, trust in me? You will be in the same area.” Eve goes to wrap her arms around Eren’s neck as Eren pulls her close to him so he can hold her tight. 

“I’m scared that something could happen to you. I can’t lose you. You’re the one who gave me hope. You’re helped me realize my plans are too extreme and there’s another way. You have already changed this timeline in a good way by saving the majority of the human population. That’s how important you are to me.” His head nuzzled on her chest. His tears fall from being scared of losing the woman he loves. 

He can feel her fingers softly brushing his long dark hair. Eren can feel how relaxed he becomes under her touch. “I will not hesitate to awaken the Rumbling if the world takes you too. 

Natasha bent to eye level him. “Eren, listen to me. You have to promise me not to use the Rumbling at all cost. Promise me, Eren. Promise...me.” Her hands were placed on his cheeks.

He could see how it frightens her that he’ll bring destruction if she dies. He didn’t mean to scare her. All he wanted to wake up from this nightmare and glance at her sleeping form. But this is a cruel world. The only beautiful thing the world had to offer was her. His Eve. His temptress. 

Eren turned around to grab his bag where all his possessions are inside. He dug his hand to find an object. Once he pulled it out, it was a small silver case that has aged throughout time. He slowly holds both hands to place it on his lap. His emerald green eyes stared into steel grey eyes. She was curious why he held that case. Slowly Eren shuffled which Eve stepped back to give him room. The titan holder slowly goes down on his knee. Natasha gasped as she realized what he was about to do. 

“Natasha Eve Ackerman Stark….I can’t live without you. These short weeks had been up and down already. But I know the moment I met you, you were becoming special to me. You’re my light to this madness world. Even if we get separate by time, I will one day find you. We are meant to be. I’m so crazy about you, I kept asking myself what had you done to me?” He chuckled then kissed her hand softly. 

“I know it was not that long I have hurt you. I’m still sorry for the reason that made you cry. I just want to say. I love you. I love you always and forever.” He saw how her eyes got watery then watched how her tears fell from her beautiful face. 

“Will you marry? I want to be your husband. If one of us dies, I prefer I will be the one. I can’t bear the thought of letting time pass and not having you beside me. Be my wife, Natasha.” His soft passionate tone made her sobbing on how his proposal speech was romantic. 

She sniffled and tried to find the words to speak. “Will you still love me even if I had a past that labels me as being an easy girl?” She feels if he wants to marry her, he needs to know her past of the party and sex life she had. “Becaause in my time, I was known to be a party sex addict girl.” 

“I don’t give a shit about your past. That was you before. All I know, I fell in love with a strong, confident, funny woman that is capable kicking my ass if I fuck things up.” He chuckled which she did too. 

“Then yes. I will happily be your wife. I love you 3000, Eren Jaeger.” She whispered to him with a sweet velvet tone that made him go crazy.  He gets up to sit back on the bed but this time; he pulled her to sit her on his lap. His hand still holds the case. He opened the case to reveal a bulky ring that’s shaped like a huge teardrop. The jewel had a perfectly cut shape, real emerald and outside of it there’s small diamonds.

Natasha gasped at how antique and beautiful it looked. How could Eren afford this ring? “Eren this is so beautiful.” Natasha picked it up gently to see inside the ring there was something written. It’s not in Eldian for sure. It looks Turkish. Why does he have an Turkish ring? 

“Try it on. I asked a jeweler to make the band into her size finger. Natasha nodded as she slid the ring onto her finger. It does fit a perfect match. “Where did you-?” Eren interrupted her. 

“It was my mother’s. Long ago before she died. She showed her most valuable possession which was this ring because it was a family heirloom. I don’t remember much but she said many centuries ago. A beautiful woman  who came from a far away land. She ran away from being assassinated at her family’s palace. I don’t know if she was a princess or a bastard of some king. It had passed down through generations of females until I was born. Maybe one day, we’ll have kids and pass it on to them.” Eren explained. 

“The only thing I can’t figure it out is the writing inside the ring along with some sigil it has.” Eren gently grabbed her finger where the ring was. 

“It’s in Turkish. This ring looks so old that you might be a descendant of some Sultana who had escaped. You probably have Turkish royal blood in you.” She teased him. On the other hand, he rolled his eyes. 

“Then my dad must have a thing for royal women.” He said in a joking tone. 

“Well, after all you are his son. You’re forgetting I got royal blood.” She giggled. 

“It’s a good thing I don’t care because I love you for you.” Eren learns to give a soft kiss. 

“Good, because I love you for you. Even if you did try to activate the Rumbling because I know you have a good heart. You’re a good man, Eren Jaeger. Just remember that. “ She leaned in to kiss him more. 

(Mikasa)

Mikasa had been busy doing small errands that Reiner kindly asked her to do. So all day, she ran around the base to send messages to other ranking officers. Sometimes she takes turns to help out the soldiers defending their last frontlines against the enemies. The raven haired woman was so occupied that she forgot to check in with Mentor Miles. Luckily, Annie got her back to check in for her. These several days, the Marleyan soldiers were slowly warming up to Mikasa, Armin, and Annie. Even though Annie is an Eldian-Marleyan, they label her as a traitor in the beginning. The Female Titan holder doesn’t seem to be bothered by being spew insults at first.

One day Armin had enough and defended Annie. Mikasa was shook and amazed how Armin began to gain confidence to speak out. He usually stayed quiet and let things go. She was proud of Armin in what he’s becoming. Annie had been good for him. 

Speaking of relationships, Reiner had been busy being the commander in chief that he rarely had time to spend time with her. It’s fine for her since this is war. They are lucky to be together despite having heavy burdens in trying to stay alive and win the war. Mikasa was now sitting on her desk writing in code to send to Ambassador Kiyomi for help. Armin had told her to have the nation, Hizuru, to help them in time of their need. He was sure they would not reject them because Mikasa was a kin towards the Ambassador. She is an Azumabito as much as she's an Ackerman. 

Her mind shifts to her other estranged kin, Captain Levi Ackerman of the Survey Corps. She may have issues with him due to her being overprotective towards Eren. Other than that, Mikasa was worried about him. News had reached to her that Levi was captured. She wanted to go back to the island to rescue him, but Reiner talked her into some sense. Mikasa is now trying to do her part so the government of Hizuru can assist them to fight off the templars. 

Mikasa sighed once she finished coding her message. The letter was folded to be placed into the enveloped and sealed. She heard heavy footsteps coming towards the room. As the door opened, she turned around to see Reiner. 

“Hey, what have you been up to?” Reiner hugged Mikasa. 

“I was writing a letter to Lady Azumabito for help.” She hugged him back. 

Mikasa gets up to be comfortably hugging her lover. Her cheek pressed on his chest to nuzzle gently. This is one of their rare times to embrace each other. As both couples had been busy doing their part in the terrible war that is happening.  

“Armin already told you?” The blond haired man was starting to kiss her neck affectionately. 

Mikasa let out a soft moan from having his warm soft lips on her skin. They haven’t had this type of contact since they had sex first time with each other. She uses her fingers to run through his golden hair. “Mhm...he did. I- n-need to g-give this letter to be s-send.” 

The Asian-Eldian woman was losing in her thoughts. Reiner had a smirk when he noticed how distracted Mikasa was. 

“Don’t worry about that, baby. It’s a good thing I, your boyfriend is now the commander in chief.” Now his tone became deep with husk in seducing his lover. 

Mikasa was feeling her knees wobbly from the way his tone changed. Her hand traveled down to give a teasing squeeze on his covered manhood. A deep moan came from Reiner when she groped his bulge. 

“I’m aware of your position, Commander.” Now Mikasa uses her seducing tone on him as she’s in control. “Try to be patient for a few seconds, baby. I am going to send this important letter then I’m all yours.” She smirked back at him. 

The female assassin stepped back and went to the desk to pick up the envelope letter. She turned around to give a tender sweet kiss to Reiner. Reiner kissed her back from enjoying the kiss. He saw her walk away from the room to go send the letter. 

Mikasa didn’t take long to come back to Reiner who had been waiting patiently in the room. She opened the door to see him lying on the bed staring up the ceiling.  Once she has closed the door, Mikasa goes to Reiner and straddles on top of him. 

“What have you been thinking?” Mikasa stared at Reiner who was lost in his own thoughts. 

He noticed the weight of her body on him. Reiner glanced to see Mikasa laying her head on his chest while running her finger on his small exposed part of his chest. 

“I’ve been thinking about you. How lucky I am having an amazing strong woman by my side.” He smiled at her. The raven haired beauty blushed from his comment. Her hand already started playing his buttons which some were undone. 

Mikasa slowly rubbed his chest as she leaned in to kiss him again. They let the sweet kiss become passionate and hunger for more. Reiner slowly undoing  her trousers. She kicks off her pants then goes back straddling on his lap. The blonde man hovered his lips on her neck to mark her skin. Her breathing pattern became shallow from attending his lips to her neck. Mikasa loves feeling his lips on her neck. It’s one of her favorites he does to her. She pressed herself down to feel his throbbing bulge as her hips rolled slow and steadily grinding on him. 

Reiner groaned when her body grinded on him. His eyes were dark with lust. The Eldian from Marley stared at his girlfriend while she zones out from grinding fast. The titan shifter groped some parts of her body until he flipped her underneath him. 

“Reiner...I love you.” Mikasa said breathlessly. Her steel colored eyes stared into his amber eyes. 

Reiner gave a soft smile from hearing Mikasa saying those three words. He thought it would take her months or probably the last minutes when he dies for her to say it. He kisses her softly with love and gentleness. 

“I love you, Mikasa.” He responded back. Mikasa was feeling shy as she expressed her feelings towards him. She rarely showed her emotions in general unless she saw her friends happy or in danger. She used to be reckless when it came to Eren but once she realized his feelings will never be mutual, Mikasa slowly disciplined herself to control her emotions. Being an assassin had also helped her with containing them. 

She had removed his shirt as her lips kissed on his bare chest. In return, Reiner took off her shirt too. It didn’t take that long for them to be completely bare nude. Mikasa moaning from his fingers teasingly caressing her exposing body which her skin started to get goosebumps from this intimate pleasure. 

Her body made an arch the more her body temperature had risen. Mikasa placed her palm on his chest to add pressure for him to shift their position back to how they were earlier. She climbs back on top of him, but this time she gently slides herself onto his hardened cock. Both groaned together when their pleasure intensified. 

Mikasa felt his length stretch her walls. She slowly rocks her hips. Her hands were on his solid chest to steady herself. Reiner had already placed his hands gripping on her curves. His eyes can’t stop watching the way her hips roll gracefully. It’s like seeing an artistic dancer blowing away her audience with her skills. He’s a man who got hypnotized. 

Reiner moaning along hers as their pleasure increases more. Her pace began to shift with speed. Now, he started to thrust upward onto her body rolls which she’s bouncing. 

“Fuck Reiner...I love you…” She chanted again and again like a spell while being lost into pounding him on top. She leans in to roughly kissing his lips. Mikasa knows something within her wants to take over. She doesn’t know what it is, but for years she was scared to let that thing take over. 

It’s one of the reasons she tried not to let her emotions get out of control. Sometimes when she dreams, the thing had always taunted her for being blinded with love to a human who had rarely appreciated her enough to be her potential mate. The thing in her dreams had looked like her. The only difference was that her eyes glowed silver. Her smirk looked devilishly. Her look-like stand proud like the warrior she was. Mikasa is the opposite based on whoever that monster was with her face. For years, it had neither given a hint who or what the monster was. When her eyes locked on Reiner officially on the day they spar together, that demon in her had awoken. Mikasa had swept under the rug to deal with that thing. 

Reiner could hear her mumbling ‘I love you’ over again. She’s getting comfortable with expressing her feelings. He thought mentally. He was close to reaching its peak soon. The sound of their wet skin making slapping sounds echoes the room. He won’t be surprised some of the soldiers will hear them. 

“M-mine...mine, mine..” He doesn’t mind Mikasa getting a bit possessive but it doesn’t sound like her the way she said. His eyes took a glimpse to see her beautiful dark grey eyes he adore had become glowing silver. This had raised concerns for him. 

“Mikasa?” He said worriedly. 

Mikasa was still riding on him, but her warm shy smile turned into a devious smirk. Her facial expression had lost her shy, reserve, caring that made her genuine to love. The titan shifter was in a dilemma because a part of him felt a bit scared but also felt Mikasa won’t  cause harm to him. He felt her nail from her index finger tracing his face as if she’s toying her prey. 

“Shhh my darling mate. Mikasa is asleep for now, but don’t you worry about that handsome face of yours for her. She is safe. My host can be stubborn in fighting to keep in control from me.” This new Mikasa rolled her eyes annoyingly at the amount of times both titan and host fought to be in control. She would have been cooperative if Mikasa had embraced who and what she truly is. An Ackerman titan. 

Reiner was speechless. Nobody knows where the origin of the Ackermans is or how they are able to gain superhuman-like abilities to slay titans or massive armies. After all they are legendary to his people in Marley. His mother used to tell scary stories about the mythical clan of the Ackermans. When he went on his mission to Paradis Isle and encountered Mikasa Ackerman, he was scared and worried that their mission would not succeed. Turns out she was just a quiet girl who protected and smothered Eren Jaeger. During his betrayal, his perspective had changed when he saw how deadly Mikasa and Levi were capable of while fighting off them. Yet, he was still astounded how beautiful and strong Mikasa is. She was like a goddess of war raging into the battlefield. 

“Y-you’re not Mikasa?” He said with confusion. This possessed Mikasa let out a velvety chuckled. 

“Oh no, my darling.” she purred. “I’m Styx, it’s a pleasure meeting you, Reiner Braun.” 

“Styx? Like the Greek mythology Styx?” He was still turning to understand what was happening. 

“No, not really. But I picked that name when I was awoken when this woman saw her family being murdered. Poor child. We needed to survive. It’s who we are.” She leaned close to him to take a long sniff. 

“Oh you do smell very nice. I have tried to get Mikasa to open up by taking you as our mate. I swear, do all Ackermans are stubborn and blind to meet their other halves?” She sighed. “Anyways, no where are we? Let’s resume our mating. I loved how you give me euphoric pleasures.” 

Reiner was about to say something but he forgot his cock was inside her as she teasingly rocked her hips. He moans while letting Styx/Mikasa bounce on him. The blonde man let her continue until they both reached their orgasms. Both let out a final loud moan and Reiner cums inside her fill her with his hot seeds. 

“Please don’t be scared of us. We’ll never want to hurt you. You’re ours, mate.” She cupped her hands on his face to kiss him passionately soft. 

Reiner is still grasping on what this Mikasa or Styx had said. He nodded to ensure her, he understood. Styx nuzzled on him while resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her to hold her tightly. He knew now that Styx is part of Mikasa and he will always be by her side no matter what. It will be strange, but eventually he’ll get used to it and grow to love the titan Styx too. 

(Levi/Arne)

Kahr, Eldia Empire

 One year had passed since their wedding. Arne and Ingrid had moved to a small home in the port town of Kahr. The town was bigger than Leira. After all, there’s many merchants from parts of the world. The trade routes from the Empire to other kingdoms  like Hizuru, France, and Italian Provinces. They rent their home from a wealthy landlord who Arne’s father knew long ago. 

Both couples worked hard to meet their ends. Lady Ingrid was determined to work hard in her job as a barmaid. She struggled at first to figure things out but eventually she got the hang of it. For Arne, he worked in construction for new homes. This was their daily life. For the past year, they had an awkward rocking marriage until a month ago they cave in and confessed to each other about their feelings. Since then their relationship blossom. Today, it was gonna be a busy day.  It was morning, Arne woke up to see his wife not sleeping on the bed. 

“Hm. She’s probably left early.” He mumbled sleepily. He got up to get ready. By the time he was dressed and walked to the small kitchen, he saw Ingrid making breakfast. Usually, she never makes breakfast, only supper. Arne was fine with it. He understood Ingrid was never taught how to be a wife of a mere peasant like him. She was a noblewoman who was betrothed to a prince. 

He was amazed she had prepared a hearty meal for the both of them. Maybe someone taught her how to increase her cooking skill? The grey eyed man made a sound to get her attention. 

“Oh? Good morning, Arne! I hope you slept well. Come sit down. I made breakfast. I have learnt a lot from working at the tavern.” She gave her warm cheerful smile. Ingrid placed a basket of fresh berry muffins. 

Arne was still processing seeing her here in the morning making breakfast. He sat on the chair and glanced at the table that’s filled with two bowls of porridge, a pile of strips of bacon. Inside his porridge, there’s two slices of lemon and drizzles of honey with some brown spice sprinkle on it. He was curious where Ingrid got all these pricy ingredients? They barely could afford a ration of porridge for supper. Yes, that’s what they eat everyday for supper. It annoyed him since he was used to eating a variety of meals from his mother. One time Ingrid was frustrated because that’s all they could afford. Living in a town like Kahr was too expensive for them to live. 

“Ingrid, where did you get all these ingredients? I appreciate you putting your time to make breakfast, but we can’t afford to buy lemons or whatever spice you bought.” He moves the lemons to see better the spice on his bowl.

“I didn’t buy them nor the ingredients to make our porridge more tasty. My boss gave me leftovers because they were gonna go bad by tomorrow so he was kind to give me. Don’t worry, I’m not an idiot to spend our money carelessly.” She gave off  a hint of cynicism. The one thing she doesn’t appreciate from him was his thought of her being an ignorant person. 

Arne sighed and took his spoon to scoop into his bowl and eat the porridge. His eyes widen from the amount of flavor in one scoop. His tongue feels the explosion in his taste buds. He moaned enjoying his breakfast. Once he swallowed the porridge, his eyes glanced at an smirking Ingrid feeling proud of her porridge recipe. 

“Sooo what do you think?” She said. 

“It’s not that bad. So what’s the brown spice stuff you put in the porridge?” He asked. 

“It’s grounded cinnamon.” She said while scoping her spoon into her bowl to eat her porridge. 

“I like it. It’s zesty, sweet but nutty too.” He began to eat a bit more face pace. 

“I’m glad you are enjoying it. Here is a muffin. I just took it out of the oven.” Ingrid gave a warm muffin to Arne. He grabbed it and thanked her. 

“Arne, I need to tell you something. I got a letter from my cousin, the leader of the clan.” Arne dropped his spoon to stare at his wife with worry. “He found us? When did you get the letter? You could have told me when you got it, Ingrid. Damn it. We need to leave right away.” He was panicking. Who knows her family or the king’s guard would be here very soon or they’re on their way here. 

“Please Arne be calm. He’s not going to turn us to the king. He made a promise to me. He said in the letter that he wants us to go see him in my ancestral home in Völse. I know this sounds suspicious but he will keep his honor of not sending us to the king.” Ingrid pleading with her husband. 

“Ingrid, didn’t you once mention that he was vouching for you to be married off with the prince? How can you be sure he’ll not trap us to our doom? I’m more concerned how he found us.” He rubbed his temple spots from the anxious feeling he was getting. 

Ingrid looked down while playing her food. It’s best to come out clean to her husband. “I’ve been keeping contact since ten months ago…” Arne was in disbelief in what his wife had said. 

“Wait what? You have kept this secret for ten months? Why? Do you have any idea you put both of us at risk? My parents' effort to make sure we are safe will be in vain. What has gone into your head, Ingrid?” He can feel his anger rises. He was trying to stay calm and level headed but this is a betrayal to him. 

“I’m sorry….I know I should have told you in the beginning, but I thought you will shut down the idea to have help from my family.” She tried to explain her reason. 

“I might at first but I would have considered it after. What gave you the idea to trust your cousin? We don’t know 100 percent if he’ll backstab us. He didn’t give a damn about his honor when you told me he sly his way to be the leader of your clan when it should have been you to lead.” He pointed it out. Arne gets up. 

Ingrid couldn’t help to let tears slip from her eyes. She knew that her betrayal had hurt her husband. She loves him so much it broke her heart to see the look on his face. She thought it was the right way until for sure her cousin was being honorable this time and will help because they are family.  

“Please Arne understand that I just wanted to know he was being honest about helping us. He regrets pushing me to be married to the prince. He thought he was doing right for our clan’s survival. I was selfish for not understanding how in danger my clan is. I didn’t mean to hurt you..” She sob from the situation she causes in their peaceful marriage. A month ago, they finally confessed to each other and consummated their marriage with love and passion. That result now led her expecting their first child. She just found out last night from a local midwife when Ingrid was having her sickness. 

Ingrid feels if it’s the right time to tell him this news, but that’s what got to their argument right now because she had kept things to herself from him. Maybe telling him that she’s pregnant will calm him down and end this argument. My gods and goddesses, she hates crying in front of anyone especially to her husband. 

Arne had been quiet. He looked down to not aggravate which he sees how Ingrid is crying. He didn’t mean to get over worked up for this secret she told him. It just hurts that the woman he loves doesn’t trust his judgment enough to know the letters she kept in contact to her family. This is one of his issues he had mentioned to her. Trust is very important to him in a relationship. He needs to leave to have time for himself before he says something to make her upset and hurt. He felt ashamed to make her cry. 

“Arne...I also need to tell you something important.” She struggled with her words as he was still angry but quiet. 

“What? Is it another secret you didn’t bother to tell me?” His tone was dry cold that made his wife flinch in hurt for now being labelled as untrustworthy in his eyes. 

“I..I’m with a child. I just found out last night by the old midwife. You were asleep when I got home..I didn’t want to wake you up.” She sniffled while whipping her tears away. 

Arne lifted his head up to glanced at her. He doesn’t know what to say about this news. It should be the happiest moment but all he can think about is the fear they will do something terrible to Ingrid and their unborn child? He’s now a family man. He can’t trust anyone around. What if their child grows up and is being used as a pawn for their political game? He needs to pack up and run away with his growing family to protect them. 

“Arne? Please say something?” She looked scared and worried. 

Arne walked to her and kneel to eye level her. “You’re with my child.” He placed his palm on her flat belly. He made a small smile at the thought his love of his life is carrying his seed, their child.

“How long are you?” He asked. 

“A month exactly. I have been feeling ill and you told me to stay home to rest but I was stubborn to stay so at work; I passed out and the old midwife was there having her meal to check up on me until she found out I’m pregnant.” She said. 

Arne had his hand cup her face while his thumb caressing her soft cheek with dry tear stain. “You really are a stubborn woman.” He whispered softly then leaned to kiss her lips. 

In return she kissed him back. She was glad how his reaction was good about her pregnancy. They pulled away from their sweet kiss. “You married one.” She tried to make a joke. 

Arne nodding then gets up. “It’s getting late. I need to head out to work. I want you to try to rest. Please?” 

“How about I work until noon?” She negotiated. 

“I will stop by at the tavern so we can have lunch together then we come home and talk about leaving town.” He kissed her forehead affectionately. Arne is still hurt for lack of trust his wife has on him, but at this moment. He doesn’t want to distress her in her vulnerable time. 

She nodded in agreement and watched him grab his stuffed then packed some muffins. Probably to share with his worker buddies. 

“Arne, I love you..” She said gently as he was about to exit their home. 

He glanced at her. “I love you Ingrid.” He stepped out of her view and walked to his work. Ingrid sighed and started to clean up to get ready to go to work. 

The rest of the morning goes by quickly and noon arrives. Arne was off earlier as the few homes were built for the day. He was walking on the streets to get to the tavern where his wife works. He entered the place to spot his Ingrid cleaning the mugs. 

Arne went towards the bar and sat on the stool. Ingrid glanced up to see her husband in front of her. 

“Arne! I’m glad you’re here. How was work?” She placed the mug orderly on the shelf. 

“It was well. We finished the houses for today and I got my pay for this week.” He smiled. “How about you? Have you been feeling well with the baby?” His tone was concerned for her well being. 

“Yes, I’ve been ok and our baby had made me get hungry that the cook kicked me out from kitchen duty. That’s why I’m at the bar.” She giggled. 

“I’m happy you’re ok.” He smiled and admired her giggles. 

“Let me get some lunch in the kitchen. Take any empty table and I’ll meet you right up.” She said. 

Arne goes to pick a table to sit and waits for his wife. At the entrance, there were two men with strange foreign clothing coming. Suddenly, the sound of gunpowder was heard and all hell broke loose. The people duck under the tables to protect themselves. He glanced to see his wife frozen in place with two plates of warm meal. She whimpered in terror. Luckily, no harm towards her yet. 

Arne Ackerman saw a knife on the floor and grabbed it just in case. 

“It’s her.” One of the men said to the other. The other unscrolled the parchment to double check the image matched her. 

“Take her. The king has been looking for her.” He mumbled. 

Ingrid uses the plates to throw at them then make a run. When she was about to reach Arne, a third man snatched her. She screamed and struggled to get out of his grip. 

“Arne!” She glanced at her husband. Arne had a fear expression as his worst nightmare is happening right now. 

Arne roared in rage to use the knife and take charge to both of them. He barely made a slashed mark on one of the men’s faces as they screamed in pain. The other was behind him and knocked Arne down unconscious. 

“Take this one too. Since the king wanted to punish him as well.” The men grabbed both Arne and Ingrid. Ingrid curses at the kidnappers while they drag her away. 

Noooo Arne you gotta get up…

Fight or fly…

We’re Ackermans. We protect our family…

Back on the other side of the Animus, Levi was moving his body in despair. He knows the familiar feeling in what Arne is going through. Feeling useless and despair. Dr. Andersen pulled him back to reality as he stopped the machine. 

“I think that’s enough for today. You’re showing signs of the Bleeding Effect.” His tone was concerned for Levi’s well being. 

Levi opened his eyes and gasped from what he just witnessed. He sits up quickly while mumbling with anxiety. “I need to save her. I need to save her, my wife…” 

Davos Andersen observed Subject 18’s behavior. Huh? Very Intriguing. “Historia?” The scientist assumed. 

“Who is HIstoria? I meant my wife, Ingrid. Who are you?” Levi's accent changed. 

Davos assumed Levi is Arne as the Bleeding Effect sometimes can make you believe you’re one of your ancestors. It will come and go unexpectedly, but it doesn’t last long. 

“Arne, everything will be fine. We’ll help get your wife.” He said. This was the only way to calm Levi down until he was back to himself. 

Slowly the male Ackerman blinked his eyes and he glanced around to try to remember what had happened. “What the fuck was that? How long was I blacked out?” He rubbed his head from the intense headache he’s familiar with. 

“Ah, I’m glad you’re back to normal Levi. The Bleeding Effect has got you already. We will take it slow the next session. You can go back to your cell. Guards escort him back to his cell. We’ll continue tomorrow.” Davos said as two guards escort Levi out of the white room. 

It was a short walk since the white room is very close to the dungeon cells. One of the guards opened the cell and pushed Levi in, then cuffed him to the chains as he is one of the dangerous beings to be held captive. Once they chained him and locked the cell, they left the dark dingy cells. On his right, he spotted a familiar figure next to his cell. Pixis was in the cell along with other important rank military men and women from different regiments. Some noblemen were locked too on the other side of this dungeon; there were extra cells but they were less dark and there were brightness from the outdoor ray’s. 

“Captain Levi, I see they pushed your limit to be able to use the machine?” Pixis observed the younger man next to him. 

Levi chuckled darkly. “You can say that.” He started to feel drained from exhaustion. 

“Try to rest, soldier. You are our humanity’s Strongest but also our hope. Especially our beloved queen’s hope. I understand this is bs for you, but you, the queen are our hope. We are inspired that we’ll win this war.” The older general continued. 

“I want to destroy those who crossed the line with us. I missed my Historia and our son..” He mumbled. Levi doesn’t care if the rest of his cellmates know about his relationship with the queen and that they have a child together who is alive and safe. 

Just as he predicted, most heard what he said and started to mumble. The raven haired man scoffed annoyingly then rested his head on the hard stoned walls to try to rest. Soon everything was quiet. He can hear his titan counterpart talking in his mind. 

Very soon, well drained the city with our enemies’ blood. It’s been a long time since we have feast on them.

A/N: This felt like a month had passed that I barely finished this chapter. There were some parts I struggled to where I wanted it to lead. So, enjoy the chapter and let me know what you guys think? Until next time!

[fymagnificentwomcn]

t’s truly something how all princes/sultans in tmck are so pressed…I get their life isn’t easy, but all that blaming & truly how it can affect everyone’s perception. Murad even accused his mother of faking an assassination attempt on her life, incredible *sarcasm of course*. And Atike was just his cheerleader most of the time, ugh. All that blaming by people who even weren’t there. Thanks for writing that piece!

Aww thank you so much! This piece is my magnum opus I guess lol (Link here:https://fymagnificentwomcn.tumblr.com/post/610970504341405696/no-she-isnt-the-whole-evil-k%C3%B6sem-thing-isnt )

Murad’s angry 24/7 & gets so ridiculous with blame-shifting – he would need a good anger management therapy LBR.

And there’s one scene that portrays his character in nutshell:

Doctor: you cannot drink anymore wine, Your Majesty.

Murad, literally 5 minutes later: Yusuf, bring me wine!

Murad in 1 minute, another example:

Kösem: Don’t marry Silahtar to Atike, you also have another sister and if you do it, it will end in tragedy!

Murad: No worriez, I’ve thought about Gevherhan, I will marry her to Kemankeş ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I mentioned a lot of blame-shifting in my previous posts, but he even at moment began questioning his mum about Gülbahar and whether she truly committed treason (and Gülbahar herself admitted to it).

Even when Atike asked him for permission to take children with her & Kösem to vaqf, he was totally okay with the idea, but later after kidnapping snapped at his mother that it was HER fault for gaving taken his sons there & began threatening her with exile far away. Charming as always.

Honestly, he’s like a broken record. In all his arguments, while Kösem has her logical arguments, his only argument is usually “I’m the only/rightful owner of Ottoman Empire, “I’m the shadow of God on Earth. Like dude do you realise how boring you are???

Don’t forget how mad he got when Kösem wrote to Kemankeş to have a backup plan if Murad died and Bayezid wanted to take the throne, which could have meant danger for other Kösem’s sons. After all, she didn’t take it from nothing, Gülbahar told her about assassination attempt to come & it actually already had happened by the time Murad received the letter. Yes, dude you are not immortal, you could have been killed, and life goes on you know? It doesn’t mean your mother doesn’t love you or is not going to mourn you, but she also needs to take care of your brothers and state ffs. He’s truly obsessed with this idea that after his death life will  (unfortunately in his view) go on – which is also meaningful since Kösem reminded him like two episodes earlier that state was going to remain even with both of them dead. And well we all know the “masterful” idea he conceived just before his death.

And it’s clear how even some of his siblings fear him – Gevherhan was scared immediately following the announcement of Kösem no longer being a regent (especially since he did in a way to put  blame on his mother for recent events to prop himself up, and he was also engaged in state matters at that point). Kasim also immediately fears being locked up in kafes or even executed. Judging by their conversations, despite problems going on, last 10 years were a peaceful time for their family.

As I said, out of all Kösem’s opponents only Handan and Derviş weren’t worse than her, and she was the only main player that never engaged in mass slaughter – Safiye, Halime&Co., Gülbahar&Sinan, Murad, Turhan - all did.

Same with Atike – she was a baby when when her father died, didn’t even spend her early years locked up as Ibrahim…. she’s honestly so blind it’s painful. The scene where she jumps at Kemankeş for trying to talk sense to Ibrahim not to appoint Genie Master as chief judge… please your brother is now acting contrary to Imperial law and it’s asking for further disaster if Cinci increases his influence among ulema by bringing people who pay him into it & it’s good Ibo is controlled in this way… nah, it’s actually necessary. And how you jump from this to your mother I have no idea either. A true performative “activist”, who talks about protecting her brother, but all is limited to talking  & exposing her moral superiority, while it’s not supported by any real actions helping him.

Well, you got your revenge on your mother for killing the husband who despised you, acted against your youngest brothers at that point, and likely was only praying you wouldn’t follow him also into afterlife.

I also forgot to mention one more example of Mu/rat manipulating the narrative – when he tells Atike following the failed dethronement attempt & Kasim’s death that their mother had lied to her and tried to kill him – he was after all put in kafes, he should be aware nobody planned an assassination attempt, bah he KNEW the whole plan from Sinan… and yes, Kösem being so adamant that nothing can happen to Mura/t cost her Kasim in the end.

Atike herself was aware that Mu/rat would have killed her brothers even if the dethronement attempt had not happened as she told him to his face after Kasim’s death and she stated that he had made the decision long ago. Later however she got the letter from Murad informing her who killed Silahtar and she even released Traitor No. 1 Sinan to spite her mum 😂.

I suppose princes at this point led the hardest existence because they were closed in kafes, unable to get decent education&experience or have families (maybe they were allowed to have sex with cariyes, but contraception had to be used or even abortion if the concubine of a sehzade has got pregnant) but at the same time they weren’t certain whether they wouldn’t be killed because the switch to anti-fratricide was pretty new&the times were turbulent. Osman clearly broke Imperial law by getting fetva from military judge to kill Mehmed, and Murad killed the biggest number of Ahmed’s sons obviously (yeah more than in the show because not all princes appeared in MYK, though we don’t know the exact number of Ahmed’s sons, Murad definitely also executed Suleiman, most likely his full brother). I laugh when people go about “rule-breaker” Murad. Wow by getting back to law that has already began to run its course, clap clap.

Murad was king of hypocrisy and it’s also a historical fact. As Halil İnalcık states in his book Ottoman Empire: The Classical Age: “ The tyrannical Murad IV was a habitual drinker and at the same time the most ruthless supporter of the prohibition againt alcohol”. Mu/rat tried to make use of religion in his attempts to drill absolute obedience, but he wasn’t a religious person himself & definitely tried to take from religion what it most suited him, while ignoring other things, e.g. he kept decreasing zakat, aka income tax that goes to charity. A small bit of trivia: apparently he was a big fan of Machiavelli’s The Prince, there were even some rumours that he translated the book himself (we can only imagine he also took from this book what he wanted 🤪 ).

Similarly Turhan manipulated the narrative, also in a hypocritical way – remember her going like: “how many padişahs you killed?” and she was the main force behind Ibo’s death… the moment Ibo told her that she “was a coward who hid behind his mother’s skirts”… it was clear he was doomed. There was explicit anger on Turhan’s side here. Not only because she felt insulted by him, but also because she felt a need to prove both to him and the world that she was capable to be on top without Kösem’s support.  Not to mention all her actions leading to Ibo’s situation, also her ordering Mehmed to sign his dad’s death order was so chilling “I don’t want dad to die”. Well, now let’s play morally pure, especially while murdering elderly (very elderly lbr :p) Haci in again a brutal way, including twisting his neck. It’s not even that she removed a padisah – she actively worked to make him crazier and for his rule to be total failure, it wasn’t even about her, Ibo or Kösem – whole nation suffered because she was impatient to take power into her hands./BTW pity we skipped the time period when they were both Valides and we know both tried to get rid of each other, without harming Mehmed/ And frankly even with Kösem it was a terrible & undeserved backstabbing because also Ibi criticised Turhan for this saying his mother always “loved and protected her, did so much for her” and I doubt Ibo was biased here considering that he was also on bad terms with his mum at that moment.

Later the situation truly calmed down & later princes could live much more peacefully because the practice of killing truly went out of style and also later there were less and less restrictions on princes and they could for example travel abroad with the reigning padişah. For example, Sultan Abdülaziz took princes for a European trip and they even had a chance to meet Queen Victoria.

And I laugh when people blame Kösem for “failing to protect the princes” instead of you know, blame the actual killer. Ahmed truly replenished dynasty, while Murad axed a number of his brothers, at the same time of course used his own propaganda. It is true that Murad executed the favourite of princes, Bayezid, during celebrations following the successful Revan campaign. Similarly, when Kasim was executed someone spread rumours about the prince impregnating a number of concubines & it was before the Baghdad campaign when even setting out on it Murad had to display his “splendour and glory”.

Show-wise I legit one read that Kösem killed Ahmed because she spared Bulbül following Safiye’s attempted coup lmao. It’s not like Ahmed wasn’t there when she made the decision & it’s not like it wasn’t Hümaşah who after all got Yasemin in, and I doubt anyone could oppose an Imperial princess anyway – she would have found another servant. And Bülbül later saved Kösem’s kids, so… scapegoating truly is in some people’s blood lmao.

I love how MYK played with the idea of historical representation & creation of narrative, how people “see” and how different factors might influence their perception & creation of narrative. And also how S2 put into different perspective some stuff from S1. I admit there were some things that back during first watch of MYKS1 made me go WTF? that I later understood when compared/contrasted with MYK S2. It’s clear that they truly planned a lot of the whole show back in S1.

It’s sometimes interesting how narratives may be created and repeated even without evidence supporting it - there is no historical evidence that Kösem took part in Osman’s dethronement, yet it is something that often pops up even in “historical articles” for example. People deduce since Kösem later became Valide quite soon because Mustafa’s (or rather Halime’s) reign didn’t last long, know Şehzade Mustafa’s (Suleiman’s son) story, and some rumours about what Ottoman women did to secure throne for their children, so they see getting rid of one’s stepson to claim throne for one’s child as logical and usual in Ottoman system,  even when there is no proper evidence backing it up. Because it seems natural and logical, so why not make it more spicy? We know next to nothing about Mahfiruz, but there is this “Betty vs Veronica” trope, so suddenly we learn that Mahfiruz was Kösem’s opposite, not politically involved or ambitious, but gentle & sweet, and even details like light hair pop up as opposed to Kösem’s dark hair (sometimes of course it is also extended to good vs. evil). Taken from where, other than fitting a known trope? Or when she’s presented as some sort of Mahidevran vol.2 as having as close relationship with Osman like Mahi did with Mustafa, perfect prince and jealous stepmother Kösem. I know some of the stuff is also derived from Western, orientalist plays, but those are obviously not sources and should not be treated as truth. And sometimes it it even repeated by historians. For example Uluçay, who  was very against Sultanate of Women & pretty much propagated a lot of rumours (and new approach to the period truly changed a lot of how academia writes about these women now). Let us look at this quote:

Taken from: Necdet Sakaoğlu, Famous Ottoman Women.

It’s clear what narrative Uluçay chose for his research.

It’s common practice to sometimes fill in the blanks (and sometimes even change stuff) with known cliches, tropes, and narratives.

It is truly a topic for an extended discussion, so I will stop for now, but when it comes to Ottoman history I do recommend Daniel Piterberg’s Ottoman Tragedy. History and Historography at Play, which shows how the same event may be even differently presented in historical works depending on chosen narrative that is often rooted in current context.

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Enemies to Lovers

Enemies to lovers, Enemies to friends to lovers. Hate/angry. Smut and no smut. And WIPs. Under a read more:

********** SMUT **********

The lie I didn't have to tell. by verlore_poplap (orphan_account) (925 words) - Isak has an adultery kink that Even is happy to oblige. 

Chapter 2 of Smutty Tumblr Prompts and Drabbles by isaksforelsket (2k words - It’s not that Even hated Isak Valtersen; he just strongly disliked him and his face, his attitude, his personality, and… okay so maybe he does hate him. Whatever. 

I'm all yours by Skamtrash (2.7k words) - hate/jealous. - bad boy even+ rough sex. 

Blood Rushed by folerdetdufoler (3.6k words) - Linn moved out of their flat a couple of months ago, and Isak and Eskild have been looking for someone to replace her. They were running out of money and options, so Eskild made a decision for the both of them. Isak was not happy when Even showed up in his hallway with five suitcases and his own key. 

a little something (to make me sweeter) by verlore_poplap (orphan_account) (4.5k words) - I wouldn't call it a feud exactly," Isak says and tries not to shift uncomfortably in his seat. It's one of his obvious tells and one that Sana has been trying to train him out of for quite some time. 

lucky strike by Skamtrash (5.5k words) - Isak has hated Even the first day he met him on campus. And apparently Even is the new kid his friends are obsessed with.

New Perceptions by Skamtrash (9k words) - Isak hates frat boys. Even is in a frat and wants Isak. 

A Thin Line Between Hate and… Other Stuff by TheFilthWithin (Flatfootmonster) (14k words) - Isak is studying while working at a coffee shop. His life is Ok... ish. Filled with lies, mocchiato's, and hook ups, fate storms in and lends a hand in the shape of Mr Spielberg, AKA film director Even. 

I call'em as I see'em...But Sometimes I Don't See So Well by HazyCosmicJive (16k words) - Isak just wants to study, he doesn't want a new roommate who walks around naked all the time and constantly tests his patience 

take my hand, take my whole life too by shadesofcool (16k words) - "Isak Valtersen?" Even snorts, shaking his head. "He's the most arrogant asshole I've ever met." 

Hail Mary Pass by thekardemomme (20k words) - the term hail mary pass has become generalized to refer to any last-ditch effort with little chance of success. sleeping with isak valtersen until time starts running out is what causes even to realize just how vital these passes can be. 

I Can't Fall In Love With Him, Stop Me From Falling by bashfulisak (25k words) - Prince Isak of Norway is set to be married to Princess Eva in three weeks time, with the proposal happening only days after the announcement. When Princess Eva and her family arrive with their gardener, Even, Isak can barely stand him strutting around his palace, getting in the way of the gardening work his friend Jonas has already done. 

Not in the stars to hold our destiny by Stria (Asia117) (30k words) - “What the fuck,” Even murmurs, and Isak almost wants to mock him, but he refrains. He’s not 16 anymore. “Everything okay, Isak?” “Peachy.” Isak doesn’t look at him. “Go find someone else to talk to.” 

An Officer And A Gentleman by Jamz24 (34k words) - Isak Valtersen and Even Bech Naesheim are the two best cadets at Oslo Military Academy - but they hate each other's guts. When they're stranded together in a snowy wilderness they have to work together to survive - but CAN they? 

what i like about you by cammm (44k words) - might be mild smut. Insane infatuations turns into a short lived mutual distaste. Until that mutual distaste quickly shifts into something more. 

For His Love to Flee by wyoheartsmusic (48k words) - in a world where vampires hide, two lost souls find each other. 

Masquerade by Sabeley (53k words) - Isak and Even were best friends before one botched mission tore them apart. When they are assigned to go undercover as newlyweds at an oceanside resort where couples are going missing, can they put their differences aside for long enough to solve the case?

Red roses & cotton candy by dantetrieswriting (56k words) - A rose. He gave Isak a fucking red rose. Doesn't matter, Isak was still not interested. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. 

Legitimate Expectations by champagneleftie (57k words) - might be mild smut. It's a good time to be Isak Valtersen. The up-and-coming Norwegian authority on matters of freedom of press, several Supreme Court wins already on his resume - and still barely thirty. He's carved out a place in the world that he never thought he'd reach, but sometimes that place just feels a little too small and rigid. Enter Even.

mørketid by panshambles (61k words) -  DELETED

717 Miles by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames) (114k words) - Isak Valtersen has 3 weeks left of school. He has to survive 3 more weeks. Make it through 21 more days of hell. Then he is going to hide out in his room for the rest of the summer until he can figure out how to get his life back on track. Find a school far far away where he can start over. Not make mistakes. He doesn't need a fucking babysitter. He just doesn't. His life is fucked up enough as it is.

The trip to you by charlyflowers (148k words) - Isak hates Even. He hates him with all his heart. What a pity the art class is also coming to the trip to Germany.

Checking From Behind by DickAnderton (156k words) - Isak is to captain his hockey team this season which means he has to somehow learn to cooperate with the newest addition to their team: Even Bech Næsheim. This proofs to be impossible, especially when nothing about Even's mysterious transfer adds up and his moods are just too frustrating. 

(WIP - Smut)

Magic Eight Ball by folerdetdufoler (22k words) - first update in Aug 2019. His cubicle is in the bullpen, but at the edge, across from the offices along one wall. When the Chief makes his announcements Isak stands near the middle, leaning against someone else's cube, reading emails on his phone instead of paying attention. This time, though, the Chief is introducing some new hires to the office: a sports editor, a city editor, and a marketing head. When Isak looks up to finally acknowledge the new team members, he gets a good look at the guy who is going to make his life a living hell. 

.. to the next universe. by xoxoxo333 (27k words) - last update Sept 2019. Isak thinks Even is just a stupid bad boy until they meet more often and each of them tells the other more about his life, his secrets and fears. 

The Naked Cleaner by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames) (38k words) - last update July 2019. It’s always been a thing, the gag joke gift Isak’s so called friends present him with on his birthday. Not that people care much about birthdays these days, all of them being all grown up and sensible and mature and…. Adult. Isak hates that word. The not so Adult story of when Isak get's a cleaner. 

I Want To Love You But I Don't Know How by Skamzombie (41k words) - 11/12 chapters posted. Isak and Even do not get along. In fact they hate each other. But when Even finds dirt on Isak, well it is almost too good to not use it to his advantage. And then somehow Isak finds himself in the drama club...with Even where drama is definitely promised.  

put me in a movie by Evenbechbaesheim (42k words) - last update Jan 2018. Isak wants to be an actor, Even wants to be a director and they don’t quite get it right the first few times, but , like any good NRK drama- they can’t keep away from each other for very long. A story told through the months of the year. 

If You Don't Love Me, Don't Tell Me by orphan_account (44k words) - 4/5 chapters posted. Even's two sided personality is what drives Isak's hatred towards him. An asshole frat boy at night while he parties, then a top student by day who charms everyone with his bright smile. Except, Isak doesn't believe that Even has any good intentions. 

If You Love Me, If You Hate Me by MacksDramaticShenanigans (44k words) - last update March 2018. Isak could be chill. He was the chillest. He was a mature, reasonable adult that was perfectly capable of controlling his emotions. Not even Even could ruin that. 

take me to the stars by iriswests (230k words) - last update Aug 2017. Isak thinks Even is pretentious and impractical. Even thinks Isak is arrogant and uptight. They’re not each other’s biggest fans, even if they do happen to have spectacular sex on a very, very drunken night. And Isak doesn’t mean to do it again, but he does, anyway, so now they’re establishing ground rules and deciding that maybe they can keep doing this, no strings attached, no commitments, no feelings, and, most importantly, no need to stop disliking each other. And then it’s not quite that simple anymore. 

********** MILD or NO SMUT **********

Waking Up with Your Enemy by evak1isak (1.6k words) - Isak can't remember what he did last night, but he's woken up with a hangover, in his underwear and in the bed of the boy he loathes the most: Even Bech Næsheim. 

black hearted angels sunk me (with kisses on my mouth) by traumatic (1.8k words) - A costume contest goes horribly, horribly right. 

When I Kiss Your Soul by jinglebin  (2.5k words) - Even's soulmate wasn't who he had expected or hoped it would be. 

I like my sugar with coffee and cream by imminentinertia (4k words) - 5 times Even buys a coffee +1 time Isak buys a shirt. 

Handcuff Your Way To My Heart by sugarbeat24 (4.3k words) - Isak and Even work at Buzzfeed and are roped into doing a video together. Lots of "oh my gods" and eyerolls ensue. 

How Gay Culture Liberated the Modern World by panshambles (6k words) -  DELETED

I'm Stuck on You by Twinklylightseverywhere (6k words) - Jonas lets out another nervous laugh. Isak wishes his best friend would shut up. “You two will take the spare room. Uh… with one bed.” “ONE BED?” Isak and Even both shout at the exact same time. “Merry Christmas!” 

Hjerterum by littlemovie (Lejla) (6.3k words) - Isak cleared his throat. “Hi,” he tried again looking at who, he gathered, was the ever-elusive third roommate. Even walked to the fridge, keeping his eyes glued to his feet. He took two cans of coke from his shelve and a bag of chips from the counter before making his way down to the basement again, shutting the door behind him. Isak huffed out a breath. “Well, that’s rude,” he mumbled to himself.

thought i had you in the palm of my hand that night by hippopotamus (6.6k words) - They're roommates, and they don't get on at all. Until they do, at which point Even decides to develop a useless crush. 

you call me lavender, you call me sunshine by aestheticzjm (8.4k words) - the one in which isak is forced to look over a friend's tattoo parlor and even works at the flower shop across the street. 

Good Roast by lovelycarcass  (9k words) - Even is a rising filmmaker and Isak is a cynical, sharp-tongued film critic. 

Is This What You Wanted? by cuteandtwisted (10k words) - Isak is filthy rich and Even is a hardworking male model who just got signed to his father's agency. Even gets an awful offer from Isak: one night with him in exchange for money, and begins to despise him. 

in the morning you'll dance with all the headache by bluesterek (19k words) - “Why do you hate me? Is it still about that kiss in first grade?” “You kissed my crush in front of me, Even.” “Yeah well, sorry about that, but that was like a century ago. Besides, you don’t even like girls.” “Excuse me, what?” 

en passant by peachbombs (21k words) - The first time Isak and Even had gone up against each other at a competition, the judges had declared a tie. Newspapers covered the occurrence as an unusual feat—it was a debate competition; one side had to win over another. That was the whole point. But it kept happening. Candy jar au. 

i didn't mean to kiss you (you didn't mean to fall in love) by shadesofcool (24k words) - football/cheerleader au with not much football and cheerleading because i only know the basics 

Dear Friend by bri_ness (26k words) - Isak and Even work together in a failing video store, and they cannot stand each other. Isak and Even both signed up for the Love Letters dating service, and they’re both falling for their anonymous pen pal. She Loves Me AU 

through these dark days by hippopotamus (29k words) - This is the world Isak lives in, half dead, half empty, half wild. A makeshift camp in a dying forest with twe- eleven other people, salvaging anything they can to make it easier, hunting any animal they can find to make it survivable. 

hearts a mess by slvtherxn (31k words) - Jonas takes the new kid at school under his wing, and everyone instantly loves him... everyone but Isak. He’s cool, and older, and funny, but whenever he talks, Isak gets the weirdest nauseating feeling in his stomach. He thinks he might hate him. 

Come On, Set the Tone by boxesofflowers, Eeyoreneedsahug (57k words) - Isak is a recently out popstar who wants to prove that he is not just another pretty face in pop music. Even is a self contained, indie singer songwriter who takes shit from nobody. Shortly after a public feud between the two begins, they’re forced together for a nationwide tour. 

Blood vs. Water by bri_ness (100k words) - Survivor au. Isak and Even become become rivals very early on and they constantly mess with each other. 

You Don't Even Know Me! by cuteandtwisted  (101k words) - "Let's keep our daddy issues out of work," said Even. "Excuse me?!" The one in which Isak and Even are interns who got off the wrong foot and don't like each other at all (except that they do). 

(WIP - No smut)

I hate that I want you by daisysmalia (17k words) - last update Jan 2017. Isak hates Even. He hates him so much that he even wrote a list. A list of everything to hate about the idiot. From his stupid smile to his windswept hair. From his random flirting with everyone to the fact he knows his name. To that feeling Isak gets when Even is around. 

i hate your face, it makes my heart skip a beat by Bellakitse (20k words) - last update Sept 2017. Isak is failing History and his friends have the great idea that their new friend Even should tutor him. It's perfect except Isak doesn't like Even or the way his stupid face makes his stomach flip. 

helium hearts (we're on fire) by itjustkindahappened (27k words) - last update May 2019. 10 Things I Hate About You!AU. Eva enrolls at Hartvig Nissens VGS in Oslo and falls headfirst for the popular and pretty Vilde Lien. Vilde, however, is not allowed to date until Isak—her sarcastic, misantropic introvert of a step brother—does. Together with her new group of friends, Eva comes up with a plan to set Isak up with the school's rumor-ridden bad boy Even Bech Næsheim so she can take her crush out.

we are made up of love and hate by everythingislove (straykid), puddingandpie (42k words) - last update July 2018. the one where Isak joins his best friends on their first North American tour and definitely does not fall for Even Bech Næsheim, their infuriating(ly handsome) opening act. 

a careful hypothesis of the heart by StMisery (87k words) - 12/13 chapters posted. "The boss' fucking son got the job. Out of a pool of dedicated applicants. You can't just deny nepotism like that," he said. "I'm Isak, by the way. I didn't catch your name?" Leaning against the metal banister in the elevator, the other man was the picture of calm. "I'm the boss' fucking son," he said. 

[paladin-andric]

The Price of Ambition

Hello, everyone! I hope this finds you all well. I haven’t made as much progress in Blackheart as I’d hoped, but I have been getting back into writing! As a treat, here’s a follow-up to a story a lot of people liked. Some of you may remember the tale of Seigot Ironheart, the mighty Chieftain of Oakwall and the only true High King of all Wolfmen! Here we see the not so happily ever after of his reign, and a chance at redemption for a son who saw the kingdom collapse...

“Noble master.”

A figure emerged from the shadows, slipping through the hall silently as he trudged towards the one and only High King.

High King...such words had never been uttered but in wild fantasies. The idea that the scattered, ever-warring tribes of the dacuni would ever unite under a mighty king that would forge their barren lands into a sprawling empire was but a childish fantasy.

Only it wasn’t a fantasy anymore. One man, one legend, had carved his name into history by making that feat a reality.

Seigot Ironheart, Chief of the Oakwall Tribe had done the impossible. He took a tiny tribe and conquered all. He rolled over the rest, across all of his people’s ancestral homelands, until every dacuni was united, all living in one state: The Dacun Empire.

Raiding parties had transitioned from fighting each other to striking south. The koutu, pona...none were safe from the mighty warrior hordes of a united dacuni people. Even Geralthin suffered. The humans, with all their cunning and magic and steel and lies could not hold the Varagies back!

The High King fell in love some time after his advisors warned him of the need of an heir. He found love on his own terms, though he certainly paid for it by turning away many political brides that might have granted him greater control over the rowdy aristocrats.

He had raised his son lovingly, doting on him nearly as much as his mother did. This was not something chieftains often bothered with, let alone mighty hero-kings.

In an age of political expediency, massive families, court guardians, and sons and daughters being married and shipped off for alliances and foreign claims, a truly bonded, loving family was something to note.

Gerail had loved his father. He’d felt such a warmth in his heart whenever they had a heart-to-heart that he would have done anything to make him proud.

He had attempted just that.

Seigot’s legacy was the unified high kingdom. He had entered a valley of dust and left an empire of stone and marble in his wake. He didn’t want it to all be for nothing.

So as he got on in years, he began to tutor young Gerail in the ways of rulership, diplomacy and administration. His intentions were obvious; he was forging his son into the next High King.

Gerail tried so hard. He had listened and trained with his father in everything from economics to speechcraft. He wanted nothing more than to please the father he held so dearly.

But both of them could tell he wasn’t cut out for it.

He lacked charisma, the raw force of personality his father had that had kept the rowdy dacuni together. He was no good with numbers and accounts, the treasury would flounder under his reign. He had no skill in administration and critical thought, surely the advisors and councils would end up taking all the power from him.

The military laughed at his efforts to lead, as did everyone else. He tried to be diplomatic, but his personality, that of a naive appeaser, led him to failure. He wanted everyone to be his friend, but his meekness and apparent desperation to be liked meant every with a shred of cunning and wit could simply take advantage of him. False assurances of friendship and mischievous grins were common in the royal halls once he ascended to power.

His father could tell he lacked in all regards when it came to managing an empire. That was fine. Not everyone was cut out for it. It was a monstrous task, after all.

But by this time, he and his wife were very old...and no longer could they bear children. Gerail was their only child, and the only person with a shred of legitimacy to the throne.

As those final days drew near, Gerail knew it. His father didn’t believe in him. He could see it in his eyes.

The elderly king, lying on his deathbed, never admitted that though. More importantly, he reminded Gerail of what truly mattered.

“No matter what happens, do not worry,” he muttered. That withered and raspy voice...it was foreign to the strong and mighty High King. “Whatever happens next, remember this...you are my son. You are my son, and I love you. I love you more than anything on this earth, I promise you that. Bear no shame, think nothing of my approval...should the worst come to pass...I will never stop loving you. You are a wonderful person, with the greatest, kindest heart I have ever seen. Be proud, Gerail...be proud of yourself, as I am proud of you. So very proud.”

He was more important to Seigot than a throne, a legacy. Their blood ran thicker than mere words on a stranger’s lips.

Gerail refused to face the world for quite some time after his father passed on, to meet the old gods. In life he had patronized Baba, goddess of the harvest. He always remarked how much he admired the virtues of diligence, honesty and grit that Baba both personified and taught. Hopefully she had received his soul warmly in the afterlife.

Once he gathered himself, Gerail was coronated, and began his reign.

It went as well as he had expected.

Countless issues, unfathomable obstacles, merciless opposition and backbreaking work…

“Why would anyone ever want to be king?” he had asked himself.

His weak reign, along with a terrible famine, resulted in riots. Instead of coming down hard, he let them be. After all, they just wanted to eat, wanted to live. How could he punish them for that?

The riots, left to fester, erupted into full-scale revolts. The commoners ran across the countryside, claiming various crown holdings as free land.

The nobles, wealthy and influential aristocrats soon began plotting for independence. All Gerail did in response was talk. Seeing that a civil war was imminent, he tried to work out concessions, deals, and issued an official plea for peace.

The mighty wolfmen, indomitable warriors with a penchant for violence...he simply begged them not to rebel.

Needless to say everything spiraled out of control. Most of the military was on the sides of various enemy forces at the dawn of the war, and the royal army was separated and weak due to the scattered nature of the holdings that stayed loyal.

The army was quickly overrun, and now only a few loyalists remained. They were currently outside, guarding the palace.

Gerail was slouched over on his throne, his gaze distant. His fist rested against the side of his head, and his scowl made his emotions obvious. His fanciful robes and heavy crown clashed with the way he carried himself.

He was currently stewing over all of what had happened in the past few months. He cursed himself, cursed his incompetence, wondered why it had to be this way-

“N-noble master!” the voice cried out, nervous but insistent.

Raising your voice to the High King...it wasn’t something any slave would normally ever even think of doing, but these were odd times. Besides...he was a special case.

The young wolfman before him wore nothing save a cloth wrap, like most slaves. He had a large tree emblazoned on his shoulder, a branding identifying him as a slave of the Oakwall, the tribe this kingdom rose from.

The young man, Harad, was born into slavery, being the child of a slave couple Gerail’s father had owned some time ago. Gerail and Harad were the same age, and Harad had been trained as a personal servant of the royal family. As such, he and Gerail had grown up together, and were inseparable friends.

But why did he needed to be branded? Gerail thought to himself, Such needless pain and scarring...is that any way to reward loyal servants? Why do there have to be slaves, anyway?

Slavery was not something wolfmen questioned. It had been ingrained in their culture since time immemorial. Dragons had enslaved them, brutalized them and brought untold suffering to their people. Once they were the ones in power, they took their own slaves. In the minds of the dacuni, if they were not the ones in control, there was no point in begging or hoping for mercy; they expected none from those that defeated them, and so they should show none to their enemies.

And yet...Gerail wondered why. They were all dacuni, weren’t they? Why enslave each other?

He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, Harad. I...I’m thinking.”

The young slave bowed and averted his gaze. “O-of course, master, but...I think it’s time.”

Gerail frowned. “So soon?”

“Rommel said they’ll be here by nightfall.”

The Fox, as he was known, for his wily and cunning tactics. Yet like a fox, he fought ferociously when cornered.

“Is he positive?”

The slave shrugged. “He’s always been good with intel. You know that, master.”

Gerail looked to the floor glumly. “This is my home. I grew up here, learned all I knew here...and now I must leave it forever, you say?”

“I-I have memories here too, master.”

Gerail looked over to the slave. His eyes were wide and sad. He wagered he probably wore a similar look on his own face.

“You do, don’t you? Both of us do.”

Harad offered a pained smile. “Cleaning your room was always a blessing, sir...how your friendship eased my woes so very much.”

For a moment, Gerail’s face warped into that of a genuinely happy man. He remembered when they were both children. Harad had started his servitude very early in his life, helping to clean the palace and perform basic duties for the royal family. Any time he had business in the prince’s chambers it had always turned into the two chatting or playing games together.

It never mattered that one was master and the other slave. They were just children that wanted a friend to play with.

Seigot only got to scold the young slave once...before Gerail broke into tears over how the other child was his only friend. The High King always looked the other way when Harad slacked in his duties to play with the prince after that.

The slave’s job was to serve the royal family in any way desired, and if keeping his son happy was one of those ways, who was he to argue?

Gerail’s eyes lingered over that branding mark on Harad’s shoulder. The slave took notice.

“Master, what are you staring at?”

“Did it hurt?”

The young servant raised a brow. “I’m sorry?”

“Getting branded. The hot iron, pressed against bare flesh...how did you stand it?”

Harad shrugged. “It hurt, but it was quick. It wasn’t too bad.”

Gerail slipped off his throne and approached the other man. His eyes were on that black mark of an oak tree.

“I don’t get it.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Why did you need to be branded?”

“To show that I am your property, master.”

“What a rotten reward for a loyal servant.”

Harad shook his head. “That was the entry fee to this life, not the reward.”

The High King gave his friend a saddened look. “Then what IS your reward?”

“Serving the greatest king the world has ever known!”

Gerail laughed and shook his head. “We both know that’s not true. I’m a terrible ruler. But a year in power and an entire empire is dust.”

Harad forced a grin. “W-well, okay, maybe not the greatest as in ruling...but you’re the greatest when it comes to heart!”

The High King frowned. He reached out and, without thinking, touched the branding mark on Harard’s shoulder.

The slave quivered reflexively, but steadied himself. “S-sir?”

Gerail’s eyes widened, and he quickly jerked his arm back. “O-oh, by the gods, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have. I know how your father hated that…”

Harad’s expression grew somber. “Ah. Well, it was different for him. Yes, touching his shoulder was...something he hated.”

“I remember how he’d react when someone would put an arm around his shoulders, or you’d poke him there. The look in his eyes, how he’d shrink away.”

Harad shrugged. “Like I said, it was different for him. He used to be free before he was...captured. Touching his mark brought him back to that moment he became a slave. It was a horrid reminder, that was why he was sensitive about it. Me, though? I’ve known of no life beyond these walls. There’s no painful memories to recollect...just the times we’d get lectured for slacking off!”

Gerail sighed. “But why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Why are you a slave? Why is anyone a slave?”

The servant shrugged. “Because my mother and father before me were slaves?”

“So? Why should that matter?”

“Because it’s passed down, like being king! That’s just the way it is.”

Gerail pouted. “It shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

The High King could barely believe this. He had probed about this before, and slaves seemed all too quick to accept their eternal, lifelong servitude. Why was that?

“Because it’s wrong.”

Harad shrugged again. “Doesn’t feel very wrong to me.”

“Gods damn it, Harad! You’re a slave! You’re chattel, like livestock! How can you say that feels right?!”

“But I’m not. I have the greatest master I could ever ask for!”

“Harad...you really enjoy being my slave? You WANT this? Please, tell me...why?”

Harad furrowed his brows. “Master Gerail...listen to me. Your father, the High King...he was my master. My life was in his hands. He could have done anything he wanted, and...he made me clean his palace and play games with you. He could have tormented my father, thrown him to the dogs when his age made performing his duties impossible...but he didn’t. He gave them a small holding to spend their final years in. My mother and father, slaves, thralls...they lived like aristocrats.”

Gerail’s expression softened. “Harad…”

“Gerail, do you know what would happen if I was the slave of someone other than your family? I would spend every waking moment in some mine shaft, suffering in agony to enrich another before keeling over dead. I would be whipped and tortured for fun, forced to do unspeakable things for the amusement of some twisted lord. But you, Gerail, you’re different. You watch over me with a kind and merciful hand. Indeed, I say proudly, that I belong to you! I could ask for no better life in my station!”

It was true. That was what made Seigot so successful in his campaign of conquest. His own slaves, and the slaves of tribes that he captured...he was so kind and merciful to them that slaves eagerly stayed with him, knowing that while they bore the mark of servitude, no life outside the walls of the High King’s palace could ever hope to compare. He had put them in a situation where they could never leave, and yet they wouldn’t want to. In an ironic twist of fate, the slaves had become the most loyal and trustworthy of Seigot’s confidants. Why rebel for a chance at a worse life?

Gerail looked away. “I don’t want to be your master. I don’t want you to be mere property. You’re my friend...I want you to be safe and happy, without the threat of tyranny over your head.”

Harad smirked. “Hah, you only prove me right! If master cares so deeply about my well-being and happiness, who else is more qualified to ensure it?”

“Harad! YOU are!”

“Like I said, I carry the mark of slavery. I can’t be a free man, none would respect that if I tried to leave. I’d be abducted by another. By being my master, you protect me from that. Only you can ensure the life you want me to have.”

Gerail put a hand over his head and sighed. “That’s why I said branding is stupid! If no one knew you were a former slave, you could live happily.”

“I am living happily.”

Gerail looked up at Harad, who only shook his head.

“But I-”

“Don’t. Look, just don’t question it. I’m happy. If that’s what you’re truly worried about, than I’m happy. You know it, and I know it. That’s all that matters.”

The High King groaned. “God, I’m so confused…”

“Master, just forget about it...there are other pressing matters to discuss, like, say, the approaching army.”

Gerail nodded sadly. “Ah, gods...I’ve taken an empire of stone and ground it to dust.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is!” Gerail insisted. “I’ve led our people to ruin, fractured a mighty kingdom and spread misery to those who follow me!”

“Your enemies did all that, not you.”

“I let it happen.”

Harad snarled. “You tried, sir!”

“And I failed!” Gerail cried. The young monarch stumbled back and collapsed back onto his throne of iron. “I always fail.”

“Master…”

“You can’t prove me wrong there,” the king said with a note of disgust, “I’ve dishonored my family.”

“Your father said no such thing, my lord. He was proud of you.”

“No. He knew I was a worthless leader. He could tell I would ruin everything.”

“But he was proud of you as a person. As his son. He was proud to have someone so honorable as his legacy.”

Gerail blinked, looking up from his throne. “Harad…?”

“I know how hard it is for you to get out there and give orders, the way it makes you quail. I don’t blame you. Your father didn’t blame you. That’s just the way it is.”

The High King lowered his head, teary-eyed. “I-I ruined everything...why can’t I just SPEAK?! Why?! Why does my heart seize when I try to do what my father did effortlessly?!”

“That’s just who you are. You can’t change that.”

“I-if I wasn’t so helpless...if I could just muster the spine to DO something…”

Gerail was jolted by the feeling of a hand planting itself firmly on his shoulder. He looked up to see his friend standing beside him, smiling warmly at him.

“It’s not your fault. I promise.”

Gerail couldn’t help it. He burst into tears, weeping as his friend silently comforted him.

He had let everyone down, everyone who was counting on him. His loyal soldiers and subjects that stood against overwhelming odds for him were all but killed and conquered. The few friends he had left were being dragged down with him when they could have salvaged positions in the new regimes.

But most of all, his father. The one and only High King...for he hesitated to even use the title that was his birthright, so distant were they in skill and ability. He had wanted this unity to last forever...but the tribes were back to their old ways in little under a year after his death.

“I sullied everything,” Gerail muttered, wiping at his face.

“Some things just aren’t meant to be,” Harad assured him, “You tried your hardest, and that’s all that can be asked of you. I promise that your father understands. He told you so, didn’t he?”

“Y-yeah, but…”

“Come on,” the servant offered, “We should leave now. If there’s one thing father WOULD be disappointed with, it’s you getting killed by a bunch of savage raiders!”

The young ruler looked around him, at the hall. A fine carpet, stout stone, and wondrous trophies of glorious conquests...all earned and made by his father.

“...I want to save as many of my father’s things as I can. They don’t deserve them. Father doesn’t deserve to have all his things stolen.”

“I’ll help carry them to the wagon, master! If we get the others I’ll bet we can pack everything away before the enemy gets here!”

…

Progress went swiftly. The rest of the servants and volunteers knew they were running out of time, and so they worked at a breakneck pace to vacate the palace of its valuables.

Along with the treasures and trophies came sentimental objects. Books, poems, gifts and personal objects of reflection. The ruler was sure to get his parent’s ashes before he made one final round in his own room.

Under the bed, he noticed something he had missed the last few times he cleared the room of its things. Getting on his knees he stuck his hands under the sheets draped over the small space under the bed and reached, and…

What he pulled back out made him freeze in place.

In his hand was a small figurine of wood. It was a wooden owl with its wings spread out, with beady eyes staring back at him.

This was the figurine his father had taught him to carve with.

Before he could even process things further, tears were streaming down his face, and a wide smile spread across it.

He ran his thumb over the wood, feeling the imperfections and relishing the memory as that night come flooding back to him. The messy table. The warm fire roaring and crackling beside him. The wooden shavings brushing against his fur. The smell of Linden wood. His father, with an arm across his shoulder pointing at the unfinished figurine, telling him how to proceed.

Gerail’s smile became a grin as he pressed the owl against his chest, hugging it tightly as his face became matted with tears.

He didn’t have an empire anymore, but he had found something much greater.

The memory of a life valued beyond any treasure.

Father...I’m not the man you were...but I’ll keep being the one you’re proud of. I promise.

…

Gerail bumped into Harad as he rounded a corner in the hall. The young slave looked panicked as he addressed the king.

“Sir, I’ve been looking for you! We have to go NOW!”

“Harad? What’s-”

“They’re here!”

The king quickly shook off his shock and broke into a run, his friend rushing beside him.

“The wagons are loaded and ready,” Harad explained, “B-but I don’t think we can outrun them, they’re so close!”

The pair rushed into the main hall and out the front doors, which were wide open. Outside a large collection of men, women and soldiers stood awaiting them.

“Are you alright?!” Rommel probed. The general was identifiable by his sturdy iron-plated armor, which the other soldiers lacked. In addition, he wore a metal cap with a decoratory pelt atop it that showed off his rank.

“I’m fine, let’s go!”

The thundering sound of stomping and cheering caused the group to turn to the side. There, in the forest, a massive collection of wild, snarling warriors rushed toward the palace. The nearby tribe, here to wipe out the last remnants of loyalist rule.

Rommel’s eyes widened for a moment before he closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he looked back at Gerail with a saddened expression.

“It appears my men and I will not be accompanying you on your journey. It’s been an honor to serve, your majesty.”

“W-what?!” Gerail shook his head wildly. “No, no, there's still time! Get on the wagons and-”

“FORMATIONS!” Rommel cried. In no time at all, the axemen and bowmen were in lines, forming a defensive wall between them and the enemy.

Before he could muster another objection, Gerail felt hands grab at him and pull him away.

“W-wait, no! Don’t!”

“We’re out of time!” a servant cried desperately, “We can’t die here!”

Gerail struggled before moving along with the fleeing crowd. “No! Rommel...ROMMEL!”

The general nodded back at the crowd. “Farewell, my king.”

As the group fled to the wagons, Rommel steeled himself. He knew this was the end, but he conducted himself with the same calmness and grace the last king had shown. A straight back, a steely gaze, and a loud but calm voice did wonders to inspire the men.

As the howling warriors approached, Rommel drew his blade, looking at his men one last time.

“We all know why we’re here. We’re only to buy time for the true High King. I am gladdened to have had the privilege to serve alongside you all...NOW GIVE THE BASTARDS YONDER A CHEER!”

…

“It’s not right...it just isn’t right!”

Harad sat beside Gerail inside the wagon. With little room to sit with all the valuable crammed within, the pair sat huddled together. The servant patted the back of his lord and nodded, an understanding look of sadness in his eyes.

“I know, I know.”

“We were so close...why?! Why does this keep happening?! They trusted me!”

“They saved us all!”

“They shouldn’t have had to! They shouldn’t have had to…”

Harad sighed, looking out into the rolling countryside. Alongside them, other wagons were traveling, the final remnants of those that trusted in the young king.

“I know, but what can be done?”

“Rommel and the Thirty-Fourth...they should be here. They deserve to be here, a-and now...and now they’re gone, because of me!”

“It wasn’t your fault!” Harad insisted!

“Yes it was, it was this time! I spent an hour blubbering and wasting everyone’s time and...and if I hadn’t…”

“No!”

The young king turned and saw Harad giving him a serious look.

“We thought they coming at nightfall. We thought we had all day to evacuate. They took us by surprise.”

“But-”

“It’s NOT your fault. It’s all our fault...but there’s nothing that can be done about it. All we can do now is honor their final wishes and make sure this wasn’t in vain. We have to get to safety...for them.”

Gerail put his hands over his face and lamented the situation. Why wouldn’t anything just turn out well?

“After all, it’s like Tacitul always said…‘We owe our greatest burdens to the fallen we knew’.”

The king blinked for a moment, his hands leaving his face as he turned to stare at Harad in bewilderment. “W-wha…? Harad...was that a line from The Jewel?”

“Sure is.”

“I...I thought you couldn’t read.”

Harad let out a giggle. “Maybe I taught myself by watching you. And MAYBE I…‘borrowed’ some of your favorite books.”

Gerail was silent for a moment before his frown curled into a smile. He began to laugh, and Harad joined him.

…

Gerail stepped out of the wagon, looking around him. A small crowd of loyalists were stopped in a rocky plain of snow and dirt. Dead trees were all around them, and the wagon-train had come to a stop.

“Well, what do you think?” one of the others probed, “It’s a pretty safe location to start building. You can continue your rule from here, with the safety of the southern border guarding our flank.”

Gerail thought it over for a moment. He almost meekly agreed as he saw the crowd looked ready to set up camp...but then he got to thinking.

What would he do? Eke out a living in the barren wilderness of the rough tundra around them? Continue the fight and set up a “state” so pathetic the other tribes wouldn't even bother to put his rule out of its misery? Claim rulership of the united kingdom that didn’t exist anymore, and had no hope of returning under him?

“No.”

The others were surprised by his answer. He had never spoken so firmly in denial before.

“S-sir?”

“I...I’ve HAD IT!” Gerail roared, “I’ve had it with all this nonsense! I’ve had it with this statecraft, this stupid kingdom! I’m finished with this murder and killing and robbery and slavery! NO! I’m NOT doing it all over again!”

The High King removed his iron crown and threw it to the ground with a heavy clang, shocking everyone. The crowd gasped as they watched him rage and rant in such a manner. He had always been meek and deferential. To watch him finally crack…

“M-master…?” Harad looked at him nervously with the crown in his hands, having hastily scooped it up off the ground. He timidly held it out to the king.

Gerail gestured to the wagons. “Load it in the wagon. I’m not wearing it anymore. We’re leaving.”

“Sir? Where will we go?”

Gerail furrowed his brows at he looked over to the horizon. “...We’re going to Geralthin.”

…

The trip had taken most of the day. As last, however, they came to a stop.

A few hours into Geralthin yielded a tangible result. Stepping out into the clearing, Gerail found a verdant forest surrounding the open, grassy clearing. The setting sun left vibrant hues of pinks and oranges in the sky. With a comfortable base of operations, surrounded by natural barriers…

“I think...I think this is it,” Gerail said quietly.

The others were gazing around the clearing, eyes alight with wonder and curiosity.

“So this is what Geralthin is like…” one of them muttered.

“Wow...look at the trees!”

Harad walked over to the king, head tilting to the side. “Sir? Is this...our stop?”

“Yes...yes, this is it. Let’s set up here.”

“What will we do, sir?”

Gerail smiled. “We’ll live. No more of this warring, tireless nights and unending struggling. We’ll just live our own lives and be happy. Let’s make a village and be merry. We’ll start with making cabins for everyone!”

Harad grinned. “That sounds lovely, sir! I can’t wait to get started!”

Gerail frowned. “Ah, that’s right. Someone! Get me an ink quill and some parchment.”

The others obliged, getting some writing material from the supplies loaded on the wagon-train. Gerail hastily scribbled something down on parchment.

Taking an interest, Harad leaned over, eyes on the blank side of the sheet. “What are you up to, master?”

“Just a moment...there!” Gerail stopped righting and cleared his throat. “People! Gather around! I have an announcement!”

The crowd of survivors quickly ceased their exploring of the land and ran to gather in front of their king. With all of them waiting, Gerail raised his voice.

“With the power invested in me, I hereby pass this decree into law! This clearing is now New Oakwall! Furthermore, I declare myself Mayor of New Oakwall!”

The crowd cheered with a notable degree of zeal, everyone seeming excited by this declaration.

“Secondly...I, King Gerail, hereby...ABDICATE from my position as High King of the Unified Dacun Empire!”

The cheers quickly became dismayed cried and shocked sputterings of disbelief.

“W-what?! Master?!”

Gerail turned to look at his old friend Harad. “Master...master! It’s interesting you call me that, for third on my list is this...as Mayor of New Oakwall, I hereby ban the practice of slavery in all of its forms within our land!”

Even more chattering and cries. He had flipped everyone’s expectations on their heads in one fell swoop.

“S-sir, are you...are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Gerail spoke firmly. For the first time he could remember, speaking in front of all these people...his heart did not quail, he felt no knots in his stomach. He was...serene.

“Come on, people. We’re not retaking the empire. I think that’s obvious. Let’s just focus on this humble valley, and building the best lives we can for ourselves. Furthermore, there is no place for slaves and masters here. Today...we’re all just settlers.”

Harad gave the now past-king a guilty smile, rubbing at his arm. “Heheh...I suppose my branding argument holds no water in a foreign land where none care about such marks.”

Gerail smirked. “That’s right...my friend. From now on, you’re a free man, with undeniable rights. No more ‘master’ or ‘sir’, understand?”

“Well, actually...you’re still my mayor, sir.”

Gerail rolled his eyes and groaned. “I hereby call for an election in a week’s time.

“Oh, Gerail!”

The former king chuckled. “Alright, alright...let’s get moving people! Get the tools and start cutting at the trees! We need shelter for the night ahead!”

As the group left for the wagons, Gerail took a moment to gaze at the setting sun.

Everyone that had worked to get to this point, everyone that had given all to get the king here...it wouldn’t be in vain.

They had given the last remnants of the kingdom a future to believe in, a place free of fear and suffering.

General Rommel and his men, the loyal army, the servants and raiders, all the families...and mother and father. Their efforts had paid off. They had brought them to this new place.

“Home,” Gerail whispered to himself.

…

There was some confusion when the humans stumbled upon a wolfman colony on their side of the border. What they thought was an invasion force quickly worked to rectify the situation.

They were simply escaped slaves seeking a better life, they had explained.

It wasn’t EXACTLY a lie, plus the branding marks lent credence to that story.

In the end, the loyal nobles decided they could stay, so long as they didn’t start trouble. Their leader assured the humans they wanted nothing more than to live in peace and harmony with their benefactors.

That same leader quickly made friends with a nearby human village, and soon enough the wolfmen were considered locals.

It seemed Gerail had finally found the passion, courage and character within himself needed to lead. A shame it came too late to save the kingdom, but at least he could lead his fellows in the village to peace and prosperity.

None knew of their true origins, that the small village was led by the true heir to the High Kingdom of the wolfmen, the son of Seigot Ironheart, the legendary conqueror.

But that was how they liked it. The victorious wolfman tribes assumed Gerail’s band of survivors got lost and died somewhere in the wilderness. They turned on each other, and in no time at all the wolfmen were more divided than they had ever been.

Unbeknownst to the rest of this world, if one were to enter the village of the quiet and friendly wolfmen, and they were to enter the temple dedicated to Asvarnin, the God of Sin, they would find something remarkable.

The temple itself is humble and plain, and the villagers arrive to pray to the God of Sin for absolution and atonement for all living things. No outsiders are permitted to enter the underground floor, but if one somehow snuck past the guards...they would find a room full of precious artifacts underneath. Things that used to belong to the High King of the wolfmen.

At the far end of the room, past all the treasures and artifacts, one would find two things of note. First would be the pair of urns that contained the ashes of the First High King and his wife.

Secondly, a large tablet with a long list of names. From Segiot to Rommel, this was a memorial to all the people the prince to the throne knew, and those that perished to grant him his second chance at life.

No one knew of this, of course. They were just escaped slaves with a friendly disposition. They visited the humans, and the humans visited them. They helped one another and flourished together out on the northern frontier, forging mighty bonds between their people.

For the rest of their lives, the former king and his subjects lived happily as the freemen of New Oakwall.

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadchronicles, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @fierywords, @shewrites-sometimes, @nerds-and-nebulae, @purpleshadows1989

[kuno-chan]

Love Amongst the Dragons: Gales of Yesterday - Ch. 3, The Tempest

Summary: In a sentence, Prince Callum doesn't care for dragons. He has his reasons for not being a fan, but the Dragon Ban has expired and now his life is full of them as the Dragon Keep has finished and everyone around him is preoccupied in making sure everything is ready for the Xadians arriving so the dragon rider's training program may succeed. Now, Callum is up to his neck in everything that has to do with dragons as he does his best to satiate some dangerous curiosities, wrestle sorrowful memories and support his stepfather, King Harrow, in this time of redemption.

Rating: G

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The human kingdoms were a strange place. There was very little magic. In fact, there was basically no magic anywhere.

Rayla found it rather bizarre,honestly. She said as much to Runaan.

“Humans were not born with magic,” he told her, concealing a knife in his boot. He instructed her to do the same. This entire diplomatic mission was supposed to be peaceful, but it wasn’t as if the humans were completely trustworthy. Runaan’s chief fear was what might happen if things went wrong; if they suddenly found themselves surrounded by human guards with no way out. They had their dragons, but now, so did the humans. “We can’t expect their lands to have any, either. Otherwise, they would have figured out a way to harness it.”

“They have dark magic,” Rayla said.

“What they call magic. Dark magic is not true magic.”

Rayla nodded. She agreed wholeheartedly.

“Are Luna and Athena secure?” he asked.

“In the stables. They’re resting, I’m sure. It was a pretty long trip for them. Luna was getting a bit cranky after a few days.”

Runaan raised his brows at her in question. “Is Luna secure?”

“... she was when I left her,” Rayla said, grinning nervously. “I swear.”

“And we must keep it that way. Dragons are new for most of these humans and Luna will spook them if she simply shows up.”

“She’ll probably just steal their kitchen utensils.”

“And I imagine they value their kitchen utensils.”

Rayla shrugged, though she shared a knowing smile. “Oh, I suppose. I’ll make sure she knows she can’t play with the whisks around here.”

“Good. Now, come.” Runaan beckoned. “I want you to be there when I speak with the King. You should know how to navigate these situations. Diplomacy is a skill you might learn.”

Rayla followed Runaan to a more private room than she was expecting. It was small, not even half the size of the throne room, more intimately decorated with paintings and items that she assumed the king held dear. A drawing of him and the boy she saw upon arriving at the castle hung on the wall.

“Please, both of you,” King Harrow gestured. “Sit. I appreciate you being available despite how tired you must be.”

Runaan nodded. “It’s what we came to do. We ought to start with a conversation.”

Rayla sat quietly, as ordered, but also impressed. Humans were not Runaan’s favorite people in the entire world. So, when he showed no qualms about leading the diplomatic party into the human kingdoms, Rayla was surprised... and not. On one hand, Runaan didn’t care for humans for a variety of reasons. On the other hand, he would perform his duty without complaint. Without fail.

So, Rayla did as expected, she sat quietly and observed the situation. She even debated sitting or standing in the corner. But she took a seat and Runaan gave her no indication that he disapproved.

“I agree. So, first, let me open with a question: What are your main concerns? I want to address those before we move on to other things. I realize the need for transparency if there is to be any trust between Xadia and Katolis.”

Runaan nodded. “The treaty has expired, but Xadia is concerned about the humans using the dragons solely as war machines. Yes, in battle they are invaluable, but to raise and use dragons with that purpose and that purpose alone is to foster a culture where they are nothing more than tools. And, that, is a dangerous sentiment to breed. Especially considering the use of… other magics among humans.”

“I absolutely agree,” King Harrow said. “And you have my word that I am doing everything in my power to make sure those in charge of the dragons’ training understand this. These are creatures who deserve respect if we are to gain their allegiance, should we even call it that. There must be respect and trust between dragon and rider.”

Rayla almost raised her brows. She hadn’t expected that answer.

“Then, we are in agreement,” Runaan said. “As long as that ideal shines through there shouldn’t be a problem. As for the Dragon Keep, who oversees it?”

“I’ve put Lord Viren in charge of the Dragon Keep. He is my closest advisor and I would trust him with my life.” The king stood said.

“The high mage.”

A pause. The king nodded.

Runaan said nothing.

The king broke the long silence that followed. “Lord Viren is my responsibility and I will see to it that nothing, and I mean nothing, atrocious happens to those dragons. Contrary to what you may believe, I do not always agree with him and his… methods.”

“I will hold you accountable then.”

King Harrow sat back but said nothing. He only nodded.

Rayla sat in silence the entire time as the king and Runaan discussed the conditions of which Xadia would allow the humans use of their dragons for military power without risk of transgression.

All the while, Rayla examined the king. This was the man who drove their kingdoms to war. The man who had a part, however big or small, in killing Thunder. They never even recovered his egg. Some part of her wanted to hate him. Wanted to blame him for the situations that plagued her life. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to hate him for all the sincerity in his eyes. Runaan could see the conflict written on her face once they finished an hour later.

“You’re troubled,” he said.

“He’s… not what I expected.”

“I imagine he’s not. What do you make of him?” he asked.

“... He regrets.”

“As he should. Many people died in his war. Human or not, those decisions weigh on him.”

“What do you think of him?”

“I can respect a man who realizes his mistakes, but it doesn’t make the mistakes go away. The people who died won’t come back. Regardless if he knows what he did was wrong, those who laid down their lives or suffered in the shadow of his decisions gain no reprieve.”

“Sorry isn’t enough.” It was more of a statement than a clarification.

“I will hold judgement. Your judgement is your own. I expect you on your best behavior, regardless.”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. You don’t have to keep telling me, you know.”

Runaan only made a noise that told her more than enough about his expectations.

-:-:-:-

In the morning Callum saw his brother for all of ten minutes before Ezran found somewhere else to be. He was starting to wonder if he upset his little brother somehow, but that usually wasn’t the case when Ezran left to go exploring. Callum wondered, but he supposed it was something else.

Either way, it left him somewhat alone for the day. Claudia and Soren both had other obligations and different things to do under the orders of their father. Soren and Varius were busy with the new dragon riders and Claudia was doing research for her father on some aspect of dragon behavior.

Even his stepfather was entertaining and making sure the Xadians were comfortable. They were planning to visit the Dragon Keep soon.

Every day was about dragons, really. Every day Callum woke up, the dragons were a part of their lives in some capacity. He hadn’t expected it. Not like this.

He still tensed up when he woke in the morning. It took him ten minutes or so just to get himself prepared for the day, even if nothing was inherently wrong. His stepfather always told him he didn’t have to be involved and, initially, Callum had completely prepared himself to do just that. No dragons, no way.

Then, the Dragon Keep went up. Then, dragons started being brought in. Soren got Varius. Claudia began looking more into it. His stepfather talked about it more. They assigned Lord Viren to the project.

Suddenly, everywhere he turned… dragons, dragons, dragons.

It used to be thirty minutes in the morning. Thirty minutes before he could get up and face his new reality.

It made him sick, having to look at it all.

All of it just reminded him of his mother.

Her breath rattled in her chest.

It stopped.

Callum’s chest tightened. The thoughts threatened to overwhelm him when he thought about it too much. When he thought about it all, sometimes.

With Ezran busy for the day, apparently off on his own shenanigans, Callum took his sketchbook and, against his better judgement, found his way to the Dragon Keep.

At first, that was how it started and why he ended up going there at all. As long as he stayed on the wall and far from the actual creatures, he could sketch them to his heart’s content. He would sketch one dragon, then go home. It gradually became two or more. Now, he didn’t really have a limit. Just whenever he felt finished for the day.

He still stayed high on the wall though. He never ventured close to them. Not once. Not on his life.

When he got to the keep, however, Soren and his dragon riding recruits were using the wall he normally occupied. Whatever they were doing, he didn’t want to disturb them. Step-prince or not, occasionally, it distracted people that he was a prince and was the adopted son of the king. Those who weren’t around him as often sometimes felt like they had to pay him mind. It made Callum uncomfortable.

So, he looked around.

Sketching would have to wait, he supposed.

It probably wasn’t the wisest of ideas, but he started poking around. Frankly, he felt like Ezran, just wanting to know what was around the corners, going to places he most likely wasn’t supposed to.

He walked near Lord Viren’s office at the keep, past it and down the hall he’d never bothered going down. The halls were simple but decorated, red rugs, tapestries and weapons hung in traditional Katolis fashion. The hall widened and simplified at the very end. To the right, Callum knew was the arena. To the left, a darker tunnel, but otherwise open. Airy. Breezy, even? Drafty, perhaps was the right word.

Callum knew better, but he took the left anyway. He wanted to know where the breeze came from. Was it another way out? An escape route should this place go up in flames?

What he found was a simple room. The breeze came from the open windows, letting in light and the smell of fresh air; it gave the room a less scary quality than Callum expected. It would have been a perfect place to spend a private moment, were it not for the cage in the center of the room.

And the dragon in the cage.

Blue slitted eyes trained on him. Callum froze.

The Tempest looked at him, eyes focused on his every move. Callum didn’t budge. He and the Tempest stared each other down. Rather, the Tempest stared him down.

Callum just stared.

He stared and prayed.

Could it shoot fire at him from this distance?

Did it shoot fire?

Was it poisonous?

He recalled Soren’s words about Chaos class dragons and realized he’d already made a mistake by praying and not running first. It was too late now though. He was as good as dragon lunch if he moved even one muscle and --

The Tempest’s eyes flickered. It looked him over, then snorted. It went back to laying down.

Callum was almost disappointed. Relieved, but almost disappointed. He wasn’t even worth a dragon’s time.

“Thanks, I guess,” Callum said. “Didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just be--”

There was a muffled string of familiar voices coming from down the hall. The trainers.

And Lord Viren.

Callum closed the door to the room and ducked away from the entrance. If Lord Viren found him down here, he’d be furious and that was not something he wanted to face so close to his office. It was just… an unsettling office. Especially if Lord Viren thought he might have stolen something. No, thank you.

The Tempest went back to staring at him.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave in a minute, okay? I just need to wait until he’s gone,” Callum hissed.

What was he doing? Why was he apologizing to the dragon? The Tempest probably didn’t care one way or another what Callum did so long as he didn’t come and bother him. He didn’t have to worry about that. Callum couldn’t have been tighter against the wall if he tried.

He wasn’t sure which one was worse: Lord Viren or the dragons.

Apparently, Callum had decided Lord Viren right at this moment.

The Tempest groaned and turned over. Fair enough. It didn’t seem to care what Callum did. It had its own problems.

This is what he got for being nosy, he supposed. He’d kept coming to the keep just to draw the dragons for the sake of art and curiosity, knowing what it would make him feel. He went to sleep at night, nowadays, feeling a little more anxious knowing that tomorrow he’d go back. But it was a point of pride for him. This was going to be his life, right? Surrounded by dragons. He ought to face his fears and deal with it.

At least, that’s what he told himself when his heart was beating in his chest so hard it hurt.

He wasn’t good at anything that didn’t have to do with lines on paper.

At the very least, he could face this… issue haunting him.

Every time he saw a dragon, he saw his mother’s dying face.

Callum looked back at the Tempest. A groan escaped the dragon’s mouth and his belly rose and fell. He frowned at the dragon’s breathing. The Tempest seemed… exhausted?

Lord Viren was just outside the door. Callum could hear him, probably making his way to his office.

“... no food, no water. Understood? Make an example out of them if need be. These beasts need to know who’s in charge around here. If they go out of control, we may all end up burned alive.”

The trainer shuddered, then agreed to obey.

In the cell, the Tempest rolled over just barely, lethargic and breathing somewhat labored. Restless, even. He opened and closed his mouth, his tongue lolling out slightly. He wasn’t hurt -- not that Callum would see any bruises with a hide as thick as a dragons, but…

“You’re starving,” Callum said softly.

The Tempest trained a blue eye on him. There was some animosity that kept Callum from getting any closer to him. Humans were not his favorite people in the world. And he had a feeling an elf would not be in his good graces either.

Outside, the door to Lord Viren’s office slammed shut.

Callum didn’t leave right away, but the Tempest looked away from him, curling into a ball as if to protect himself from anymore visitors.

It took a moment for Callum to leave, observing the Tempest before his hands and feet finally found the door, then a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

-:-:-:-

“Prince Callum.”

Callum froze, tensing from Lord Viren’s stern and not so pleased tone of voice. He turned on his heel.

“Lord Viren, I was just, uh, exploring.”

“Were you now?” Lord Viren closed the door to his office. “Exploring the very cell down the hall from my office? How coincidental.”

“Yep, it is pretty strange how we met down here, but I really should be going now--”

“Do you take me for a fool?”

His tone cut like ice.

Callum tried to act like nothing was wrong. “No, sir, I--”

“Then, why don’t you and I remain honest with each other, hm? I know you were down here spying on whatever you think I have hidden away, but I assure you there’s nothing. So, I suggest you run along and not do it again.”

Callum frowned. “If there’s nothing down here then why do you have a dragon in the cell you know I was just in?”

“That dragon is in confinement for poor behavior. There is nothing down there. Nothing that concerns you, at least.”

“You’re starving him.”

“I’m teaching him to listen to his masters. He will be fed and kept alive, but at my discretion.” Viren tapped his staff on the ground. “These are wild beasts, boy. Not humans. And you’re a fool if you truly believe that we shouldn’t protect ourselves from their wrath. If the dragon doesn’t make it that is its own fault for not cooperating.”

“Right now, the king’s wrath is the only one you should worry about.” Callum turned to leave. “When he finds out about this, he’s going to be furious.”

Lord Viren said nothing.

Nothing dismayed him more than the king’s disapproval.

But in a chilling tone Lord Viren said, “He will be… worried.” Callum stopped. “Yes, very worried. This Xadian diplomacy mission is very important to him. Why, if he thought it might fail on account of me, I’m not sure he would even sleep at night. But, I suppose you’re right. The stress of his anger is something I fear. For all our sakes.”

Callum turned to glare at Viren, but the man was already walking away, his cane tapping the ground the only sound between them.

-:-:-:-

No, Lord Viren was…

He was right.

Yes, he was right.

But so was his decision.

Callum couldn’t just let that Tempest starve to death. No, that was wrong in every way and he couldn’t just let it happen.

On the other hand, Lord Viren wasn’t entirely wrong either. His least favorite person right now, but not entirely wrong. Callum thought about it all the way back to the castle and it wasn’t until he ran into Ezran once he got back to their joined rooms.

“Where have you been?” Callum raised a brow at Ezran.

Ezran looked up from where he was playing with Bait. “Callum! Oh, uh… nowhere?”

Callum frowned. “Were you sneaking into the baker’s again?”

Ezran grinned. “Oh, uh, yeah! You caught me.”

Callum snorted and shook his head. “Well, you’ll never guess what happened to me today.”

Callum told him all of it. About the Tempest he found, wanting to tell the king and his conversation with Lord Viren.

“So, are you going to tell dad?”

“Well, yeah. It’s the right thing to do…” Callum said. “... right?”

Ezran smiled a little. “Of course. We should go tell him right now.”

The king sat in his room, the desk piled high with papers that probably had to do with the arrival of the Xadian diplomats. After all, their safety fell on his shoulders. A heavy responsibility considering everything.

“I’m sorry, boys. I know I was pretty busy all day.”

Callum shook his head. “No, it’s okay. We know you’re busy.”

“Yeah,” Ezran said. “Dad, you don’t have to apologize.”

Harrow sighed and stood from his chair. He paced the room with his hands behind his back. “This diplomatic mission with the Xadians and the Dragon Keep… it all needs to go well. “

“Your Majesty,” Callum started. Harrow looked back at him with a sad smile. Callum cleared his throat. “You know… everybody can see you trying to make up for everything.”

Harrow chuckled a little, a crestfallen tone somewhere in it. “It is very hard to make up for a war you helped start. Believe me, Callum. As it is, I don’t care about my reputation. No. After the things I saw and realizing my part in those horrors? This is my duty. For the sake of peace between our two kingdoms, it is my duty to ensure that this goes well. That Xadia and Katolis -- all the human kingdoms -- can have a chance at real peace and cooperation between all our peoples. Do you boys understand?”

Callum and Ezran looked at each other, then nodded at their father.

“We understand,” Callum said.

Harrow approached them and got down on one knee, coming to eye level with Ezran specifically. “Ezran, one day you will also need to make decisions like this. As king, there will be… a heavy burden on your shoulders. One that I will always be sorry fell on your shoulders. But it’s important that you take this duty seriously. People will look to you for guidance. But to learn how to lead you must learn how to follow and learning to follow means listening. And, right now, as a prince, this is the best time to do just that. I was young when I became king. And perhaps I didn’t listen as a prince as well as I should have. Do you understand why I’m telling you all this?”

Ezran nodded. He even smiled and put Bait down for just a moment. “If I can be half as good a king as you are, then I’ll do great, Dad.”

Ezran hugged him and, a moment later, Callum joined. He felt King Harrow put his arms around them. “Thank you, boys.” When they pulled back, he put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Now, it’s getting late. You boys should go and rest. Tomorrow I’m sure will be another long day.”

“Actually, Dad, we--”

“Really should be getting that sleep,” Callum said quickly. He grinned and nodded. “Yup. It’s time to sleep. Just like you said.”

Harrow laughed a little as he rose to his feet. “Very well. You two run along, then. There are other ways for you to get some sleep than to help me with my paperwork.”

They left the king to his dreaded paperwork and Ezran frowned at Callum. “Why didn’t you tell him about the dragon, Callum?”

Bait croaked. Callum sighed. “You saw him, Ez. He’s got enough to deal with right now with the Xadians here. I’ll just have to figure something out on my own.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Callum shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. No matter what happens, I’ll make sure that dragon has a fighting chance.”

[catvampire]

All on The Prince’s Seal / Ch. II

[ Masterlist ]

The news had arrived to Matt a minute late, the lining of the hallway blocking network signal until he was back in his own room, leaving him time to do nothing else but to redress himself in the suit he’d worn the previous day sans the tie, and head out of his room to face the disarray, phone constantly in communication with anyone he could get contact to. The second he’d gotten out of his door, Mr. Rossi, the late king’s personal bodyguard and one of the senior members of the security, had already tacked along with him, needed to know if Matt had talked with Luke yet, and commanded him down to the dining room they’d turned into a conference room for the occasion. The now king-to-be needed security, and Luke a friend down there.

The small dining room was filled with people by the time Matt got down there: security detail, staff of the palace, politicians… Everyone who had been invited to the coronation and everyone whose immediate work day was affected by the events was present, and going by the tone of the chatter in the room, not there to offer support.

Luke should be grieving, not dealing with this.

Matt pushed himself through the crowd, spotting a small circle of empty space the rest of the people mass seemed to have centred around. As suspected, Luke sat in the middle of it, eyes focused far away, surrounded by other heads of the country, clearly not hearing much of it. A wave of grief struck through Matt at the sight, the way Luke’s shoulders slumped and how he was only barely keeping his expression check an exact replica of how he’d received the news of his father’s passing---only this time, the tears ready to gather in his eyes were even more visible.

Luke raised his gaze to him, their eyes met, and Matt had to fight back the urge to embrace him, lower himself down to Luke’s level and hold him while the other let his emotions run. He could see the exact same thought flash through Luke’s eyes, the initiative in how Luke repositioned himself as if to stand up before checking himself.

Later, Matt promised, a small nod to Luke accompanying the thought. As soon as we’re alone.

“Your Majesty---,” foreign minister Emily Prentiss started, the title startling them both, and Matt could easily see the annoyance and denial Luke as he turned to her.

“No. Highness. I’m not A King before a coronation.”

Prentiss sighed; Matt could see she didn't want to be doing this either. Matt put down a hand on Luke’s shoulder, knowingly inching on the border of what would be seen as platonic affection and what romantic. Luke’s grief was palpable. Another thing seemed to reach Luke’s mind, and he turned to Matt again.

“Where’s Phil?”

“He was brought straight from the crash site to the hospital,” Jareau replied.

“What---exactly happened?”

Matt felt Jennifer’s---JJ’s, really---eyes on him, took an intake of breath. He wished he wasn’t the one bringing the news, wished he could be holding Luke through it---in a room with dozens of people, with the press and the nation’s eyes right outside waiting for a word, that wasn’t possible---but could understand why Rossi had given him the brief to deliver to the prince.

“There was an explosion on the street.” He could feel the room tense up, hear the simultaneous intakes of breaths. “We don’t know if it was intentional or not. It hit the back of the car behind Teresa, and the force pushed it to the back of her car.”

The room was dead quiet in the pause Matt held. Luke was shaking under Matt’s hand.

“Two dead. Four injured. Phil is in intensive care. Luke… Teresa died instantly. We don't know about Phil yet.”

Silence---the tentative, fearful kind---dominated the room. Luke’s eyes had developed a stare to infinity once again, and the stressed chatter had died to a terrifying quiet, with the sun still shining through the large windows, reminding of what the day was supposed to be about.

Luke still hadn't said a word.

He needed time, he needed solitude, and most of all he needed half of these people to disappear into thin air so he could process this. Not two hours ago he and Matt had lived in a world where Teresa would be the queen for more or less the rest of their lives---now, they’d been thrown into a position neither of them had genuinely considered a possibility for years.

Matt could see Luke wasn’t processing this well.

“Everybody out.”

It received confused looks, even (especially) from Luke. The door opened, and Rossi slipped inside just in time for Matt to repeat himself: “Everybody who doesn’t need to be here, out. Jareau, Prentiss, Seger, Barnes---you can stay. Everyone else, out. You’ll be notified of developments when we have them.”

His words were still being unheard. No, not unheard, just ignored. Matt’s eyes linked with Rossi, who was quick to get the hint.

“Well, you heard the man.” Rossi opened the door, almost pushing the person closest to him to it. “Don’t you all have jobs to do?”

Finally, the message went through, and the mass of people started to move towards the door and Matt could breathe a little. It hadn’t technically been his call to make: as the only one in the room without an officially appointed title, everyone he’d just thrown out outranked him. Living in the palace, his military career, his closeness to Luke earned him some footing within the staff--he just wasn’t sure it was enough for what he just did.

He’d find out in a few hours.

Finally, the door closed again, and left inside were him, Luke, and the four women he’d requested stay: Emily Prentiss, the foreign minister; Clara Seger, the UN representative; Linda Barnes, the prime minister, and Jennifer Jareau, the press secretary---the people he’d made a rough estimate would be the ones needed to get information out. Prentiss had sat down on the table, Clara on the chair by her side, Barnes on the other side of the table, and JJ had walked to him and Luke. The mood of the room had changed from panic to a mix on anticipation and sympathy. Luke looked more like a human in grief now, rather than king incapable of decisions---exactly what Matt had intended.

As eyes turned one by one to Luke, he finally took an intake of breath, lifted his gaze to meet Barnes’s, the JJ’s. “I need to go to the hospital. To meet the people who got hurt---not just Phil. But him too.”

JJ gave a nod. “What are we going to tell the press?”

“That I’m visiting the hospital. We’ll celebrate Day of the Roses like any other year.”

“We’ll just close off the gardens closest to the palace,” Matt added, “we’ll say it’s to give the remaining Royal family privacy during their loss.”

“Your Highness… It’s the Day of the Roses. It’s a coronation day. Both of those sacred things have been torn with tragedy. The public will want to see you give a statement,” Barnes spoke.

“Yes. When I---...umh. Later. After we’ve visited the hospital.”

“We’ll give an early report to the press from there,” JJ followed, gaze focused on Matt for long enough to relay the message he was part of the ‘we’ before moving back to Barnes and Prentiss, “it’ll do good for them to see how this is affecting their future King.”

Matt gave a solemn nod, not entirely able to keep his discomfort off his face: he understood what she meant, and why this was important… but understanding it and accepting it enough to not feel the need to clench his jaw for how Luke must be feeling at the death of his sister being discussed as a PR event were two completely different things. Matt dropped his eyes to the floor, straightened his posture to keep himself in check. Not well enough, apparently: JJ took a step away from him as soon as he raised his eyes up to Emily and Clara.

“We’ll coordinate the international response for now,” Clara stated, standing up in sync with Prentiss, both women readying themselves to leave. The room’s attention moved to Barnes, who followed up with her own assessment:

“The law enforcement will give its info to the press. The chief of staff will be notified that the holiday will proceed. Prince Lucas---we’ll speak before your appearance.”

Matt shared a look with JJ---now, to the hospital---before turning to Luke.

“I’ll drive you.”

[thecorteztwins]

[Just some snippets of what I imagine Fabian to be like in the House of M verse!] Fabian Cortez was an important mutant politician from Spain. He had risen so far in the ranks of his native country that King Erik had ordered him to come and serve him directly in his court in Genosha. And from there, he had rapidly risen to his chief advisor and right-hand man. Partly this was from his capable politicking and military strategy, and how had done wonders for Erik’s PR even with humans, partly his charisma and flattery which had ensnared the frequently egomaniacal emperor, and partly...partly because with Pietro’s betrayal, there was a wedge between Erik Magnus and his only son. There always had been of course, put there by Erik himself and how he treated him, but now Erik was more aware of it, and blamed Pietro for it. Pietro had allied with Namor, after all.  And now here waltzed in Fabian...the perfect substitute son. Though sometimes Erik’s feelings towards the handsome, eager young man were not...not entirely paternal, put it that way. Fabian was thus granted a very long leash to operate as he pleased. He was aware of this favoritism and exploited it exorbitantly. He had started out as being respectful bordering on obsequious to the royal children just as he was to the King, but once he realized he could get away with it, grew sneering and smug to Pietro, enjoying showing him up in front of his father and then smiling at him to show he knew exactly what he’d just done and wanted Pietro to know it too. Pietro wanted to say Fabian’s efforts were futile, it wasn’t as if he could make his father MORE disappointed in him, but that wasn’t really want Fabian wanted---he wanted to rile Pietro, and in this, he was successful, much to Pietro’s chagrin. How he wished he could ignore these insults, how he longed for it not to bother him, but it did, and he knew that ginger devil was aware of it and laughing. It would have been irritating at the best of times, but this was coming at the worst. Though Pietro had not been imprisoned for his attempt coup with Namor,  the prince almost wished that he had. He thought it might be better than the way he was now treated, looked at, avoided. The servants simply did their jobs in silence and without eye contact, and his sisters shunned him, each in their own ways. Wanda with disappointment in her eyes and just the softest yet, to Pietro, who knew her best, most condemning extra physical space when they interacted, the most subtle intonations of her voice. And Lorna, of course, blunt to the point of aggressive, teetering forever on the edge of violence at any excuse, just like their father. All this, and now he had to deal with this smug, provoking bastard Cortez. **** “Late night, boys?” The words caught the royal grand-twins by surprise. Tommy and Billy had been sneaking back inside after a long night of helping the cause of human liberation...and they had been so careful not to get spotted by any guards. Yet Cortez had taken them by surprise. Tommy could have run, of course, but he stayed by Billy, who was contemplating if he could use his magic to get out of this. “Don’t worry,” Fabian grinned at them with a you-little-scamps expression, and winked, “Your secret’s safe with me.” The boys looked at each other. Cortez was helping them? Grampa’s right-hand lackey? Shouldn’t he be dragging them by their ears to the King? But they didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. With a muttered thank you from Billy, they snuck the rest of the way to their rooms successfully. Tommy suspected that Cortez would still sell them out and he’d catch hell in the morning from their mother, but apparently he hadn’t, because no one ever said they were the wiser. Cortez did wink at them confidentially, knowingly, again in the morning, so he knew it hadn’t been a weird dream. Weird.

*** The next few times they snuck out, Billy and Tommy were successful...but then their luck ran out. And when they were caught and brought before King Magneto and their mother, Lord Cortez was standing right by the throne. They looked to him for help, for a single supportive word for them and their cause...but nothing came. In fact, the reverse---he only spoke to agree with Wanda and Erik. No winks this time. The boys were grounded, and then some. **** The twins had broken out, of course, and were causing a scene downtown, keeping a group of human demonstrators safe from the police. They used their powers freely against the officers, who didn’t dare retaliate with their own against royalty. They expected the Red Guard to be called in any minute...but instead, all that showed up was a lone man. Lord Fabian Cortez. “Now, now boys, this is hardly a fair fight,” he said, “Two powerful mutants like you against these poor practically-human men?” “What’s unfair is the oppression against the humans!” Tommy shouted. “And what would you know about fair, you hypocrite?!” Billy added, “You just stood there and let Grampa chew us out! I thought you were on our side!” Fabian looked as though he were surprised, like he’d just realized they didn’t know something he had thought they had. “Well, of course,” he said, “I even acted like I agreed with him. I thought you realized...? I should have explained, I suppose---boys, if your family knew I had an inkling of sympathy for what you’re doing here, I’d be dismissed and then I couldn’t help you from inside anymore. They’d replace me with someone who thought just like them, maybe worse. The more staunchly anti-human I look to them, to King Erik, the better.” The boys looked at each other. They weren’t sure what to think of this, but he had at least given them pause, and he took advantage of their moment of confusion. “I want to hear you out,” said Fabian, “How about we sit down and talk? I won’t make you leave, I’m not taking you back, I want to listen. How about that bus stop bench there? I can order the police away. I have that authority, you know.” Thus, when the Princess Wanda showing up ready to disintegrate any member of the Red Guard who touched her sons, just like she had to James Howlett last time, she instead found Fabian talking peacefully with them. Her boys were fine, and they were actually having what looked like a....rational discussion? Was it possible? As she gaped, Fabian turned his head and smiled at her, bowing slightly from his sitting position, “Princess.” And it occurred to the twins just what his real motive might be here. **** “Mami, you have to let me help you,” Fabian pleaded to the woman across the table from him in the holding facility he was visiting, “You’re not like those others. What happened, Haven? You always advocated peaceful resistance, you always stayed within the law.” The woman in the orange prison jumpsuit and handcuffs smiled at him, explaining, “Only because I wanted to remain free to keep doing what I could to help what I thought was moral. The law is not always moral.” “Whatever your reasons, you stayed within it,” said Fabian, “And you never hurt anyone, I don’t believe you could. So what happened? Did these harpies force you?” “They’re not harpies, Captain Cortez, they are---” “Fabian, please, you can call me Fabian.” “Fabiam, they are people, women, righteously angry. Condemn them you may, I would not disagree, but please don’t dehumanize them.” “That’s not what I meant.” “I’m sure it’s not. As for your question...I didn’t know what was going to happen. I’d decided the good that would come of breaking the law this once...would outweigh what lack of good I could do from behind bars if I were caught. And I suppose that blinded me to the possibility their promise of a bloodless coup was a lie. Exceptionally foolish, considering who I was working with.” She was absolutely right, she’d been working with human rights radicals who were known to resort to violently criminal means to meet their ends, but Fabian disagreed, he didn’t think she was foolish. He thought that Haven was just obviously too pure to comprehend deception and the capacity for evil in others. Fabian had a loving view of Haven, but in many ways, a patronizing one. “So you were tricked,” said Fabian, “I knew it.” “I didn’t know it would involve...what it did,” she bowed her head slightly, “But I knew I was breaking the law and rebelling against King Erik Magnus. This was my full knowledge and intent.” Fabian’s brows knitted in sympathy, and he reached across the table, putting his hand on one of her cuffed ones. “I can forget you said that,” he promised. It was not an innuendo, it was not the kind of veiled offer for a sexual bribe the way he might make to another attractive female criminal. He didn’t see Haven that way. He had met her before, and she had the kind of maternal magic that activated one of his few sympathy buttons. He truly didn’t want her to be here, he truly didn’t want her to be in trouble or get hurt. “I don’t want you to,” she replied. “You want to be in prison?” Fabian asked. “I---I don’t want to lie,” she said, sounding heistant, confused. “Haven, mami...” And it occurred to him  to tell her that she could help more people if she got herself released. After all, that was the same reason she had never broke the law before, that she wanted to be there to help others, which she could not do from prison. But then occurred that he could have her around longer if she stayed imprisoned. Fabian genuinely liked Haven, cared for her even. But that meant between helping her and having her company, he’d chose the latter. He sighed, pretending that saying this pained him, and squeezed her hand, “Alright, have it your way. I’ll report your confession, and do what I can for you.” She smiled back at him, “Thank you, Fabian.”

[southeastasianists]

Staffers at the Phnom Penh Post weren’t sure what to expect when they arrived at work the first Monday morning after the sale of the paper to the majority owner of a Malaysian public relations firm. But by noon, a representative for new owner Sivakumar S. Ganapathy was demanding that an article about Ganapathy and the sale, “Phnom Penh Post sold to Malaysian investor”, be removed from the Post’s website.

For the Post piece that inflamed tensions and led to an exodus of editorial staff, reporters gathered their most tantalising information by simply visiting Ganapathy’s LinkedIn page and the website of his Malaysia-based public relations firm, Asia PR, where they found possible connections between the new Malaysian owner and Cambodia’s elite power structure, including Prime Minister Hun Sen. The Post found that the past client list on Asia PR’s website included “Cambodia and Hun Sen’s entry into the Government seat”, as well as KFC Holdings Berhad, which it noted is a fast food concern licensed by politically connected Cambodian tycoon Kith Meng. Asia PR opened a Phnom Penh branch in 2014.

That Asia PR is in the political spin business is apparent from a quick glance at its website. In a pitch to potential clients, its FAQ page describes how it can help shape politicians’ image using “covert PR”: “If the politician says he is good, nobody believes him. But if someone of credibility says the politician is good, the audience listens. If we exploit and explain an issue to prove that the politician is good, the audience is convinced.”

The demand to remove that article didn’t sit well with managing editor Stuart White, who refused and decided to resign instead. The order went through the ranks, with foreign editorial employees refusing to take down the piece.

Web editor Jenni Reid and the article’s authors Brendan O’Byrne and Ananth Baliga were the next to refuse and resign. Others who resigned in protest included CEO Marcus Holmes and digital editor Jodie DeJonge. Seven more foreign staff resigned the next day. But the Cambodian editor-in-chief, Kay Kimsong, didn’t have a chance to resign, he told Southeast Asia Globe reporters who visited the Post headquarters shortly after the resignations to find groups of staffers huddled in the halls, emotions running high.

“I got fired by the new owner… because I’m the editor-in-chief and I allowed the printing of the independent story based on journalistic integrity,” said Kimsong. “I trust my reporters and my editors and I think that being journalists, we made the right decision. But it’s their business and they said: ‘Kimsong, you’re the editor-in-chief – and you made a big mistake.’”

Cambodia’s media crackdown came to a head last September with a litany of closures. The biggest outlet to fall was the Cambodia Daily, which was shuttered under the pretence of a $6.3 million tax bill it could not pay. A total of 32 radio frequencies were shut down and several journalists were arrested on dubious charges. Human Rights Watch has called for the government to drop what it calls “fabricated espionage charges” against Radio Free Asia journalists Uon Chhin and Yeang Sothearin, who were arrested last November.

In March, the government suddenly demanded the Post pay alleged back taxes of $3.9 million. The timing of the May sale coincided with an out-of-court settlement of that tax bill.

Several groups have raised the alarm over the Post takeover, including the Asean Parliamentarians for Human Rights. Its chairman Charles Santiago of the Malaysian Parliament delivered this stinging rebuke to the administration: “Having taken drastic steps to transform Cambodia into a de facto one-party state, it appears that Prime Minister Hun Sen believes that even one independent news outlet is too many and that only the complete end of press freedom in Cambodia can assure his reelection.”

During his first press conference since taking ownership of the paper last month, however, Ganapathy dismissed questions about the tax bill and said the purchase of the Post was purely a business decision. “It was an opportune time and opportune product, and we went for it,” he said. Anthony Galliano, an investment consultant to Ganapathy who was a “key man” in arranging the business deal, said the new owner was not involved in the bill’s disappearance: “[The tax bill] got a hell of a lot more attention from the seller, with a lot more resources and a lot more concentration on getting it resolved, with an offer on the table,” he told the press. “Given that the transaction had a deadline, there were significant resources from the seller to get it resolved.”

The Phnom Penh Post and the Cambodia Daily were just beginning their two-decade-plus lives during the time of uneasy optimism after the nation’s first free elections in the post-Khmer Rouge period.

The Post was founded and started publishing in 1992, the year before those first free elections, becoming the country’s only independent English-language newspaper. Within months of the 1993 vote, its crosstown rival the Cambodia Daily published its first issue, with the two publications together reporting fearlessly on government corruption and violence, the country’s vast deforestation, forced evictions and human rights abuses, along with the country’s economic reconstruction.

Together, they built what would eventually be known as one of the most independent media landscapes in Asia.

Until recently, these papers had operated independently of government approval or censorship, as a glance at their archives can attest.

“Since mid-November there has been a skyrocketing pattern of violence and intimidation against parties challenging the ruling State of Cambodia and their Cambodian People’s Party (CPP),” the Phnom Penh Post reported in 1993 of now- Prime Minister Hun Sen’s political group just months ahead of the elections. Murders, injuries and kidnapping had been reported to the UN body overseeing the vote – all against political opposition parties and human rights workers.

Two years before, Hun Sun signed the Paris Peace Accords, having led the country after helping the Vietnamese government overthrow the murderous Khmer Rouge regime, for which he had previously been a commander. This signalled the end of 21 years of civil war as Hun Sen welcomed the United Nations Transitional Authority of Cambodia (Untac), which intended to administer the country, disarm its warring factions and oversee a fair and free election in the coming years. But Untac struggled to manage the country and to keep its promises for military peace or fully democratic elections. The CPP and remaining Khmer Rouge factions oversaw a bloody campaign season.

The week after the vote, the Post reported: “According to a report on political violence compiled by Untac’s Human Rights section, in just the 10 weeks preceding the elections there were 200 deaths, 338 injuries, and 114 abductions that Untac investigations determined to be ‘politically motivated.’”

“People who voted were concerned about the presence of government authorities at the polling booths,” a human rights worker told the Post at the time. “I was told that people were scared to vote in nearby polling stations so they chose to go to other locations.”

Despite a climate of intimidation, the CPP failed to win the vote, losing to the Funcinpec party led by King Norodom Sihanouk’s son Prince Ranariddh. But Hun Sen’s party refused to give up power to the UN’s election process, just as it had refused to disarm under the same organisation’s efforts. Hun Sen eventually agreed to be co-prime minister alongside Ranariddh before ousting him in a violent clash in 1997. He has since ruled the country with an increasingly tight fist.

With 2013 came the first vote where an opposition party was widely thought to have a fighting chance against the CPP since the election 20 years before, but the main opposition party, the Cambodian National Rescue Party (CNRP), were shut out in a controversial election result that caused widespread protest. The opposition party carried the same momentum into last year’s local elections when they received more than three million votes, just under half of the national popular vote, failing to take power in the majority of communes. Since the Supreme Court dissolved the CNRP under legal pretence last November, a CPP victory in July’s national election is all but certain.

After the close 2013 elections, Hun Sen seemed to recognise the significant role the press has in influencing the public, and promised reforms in a nearly six-and-a-half-hour speech in which he called out corrupt officials, imploring them “to use a mirror to look at yourself”, “take a bath to clean your body” and “scrub your body while bathing if it is plagued by dirty things”. But the 2017 media closures and intimidations suggest that he found strangling the media easier than following through on reforms.

For Astrid Norén-Nilsson, author of Cambodia’s Second Kingdom: Nation, Imagination and Democracy, it is the power of the people to witness their leaders at their most corrupt and unassailable – and the government’s desire to shut down that power – that has driven the silencing of the free press in Cambodia.

“At the most basic level, the media crackdown is about instating new rules for what can be articulated and what cannot, and, consequently, to change over time what can be politically imagined and what cannot,” she said. “Accessing and selectively sharing news is a main way for people in Cambodia to engage with national politics. Even in a context in which the government holds such strong control over key institutions, the reporting of the independent media was therefore, even in its most weakened state, always powerful.”

Less obvious than the government’s attacks on English-language media, perhaps, has been the ruling party’s widespread domination of Khmer-language media. Hun Sen’s daughter Hun Mana alone has extensive private media holdings across TV, print and radio, including the popular Bayon Radio and widely read Kampuchea Thmey daily newspaper – both known for their strident support for the CPP. With the shuttering of more than 30 radio frequencies across the country and the suppression of the nation’s last independent newspapers, media outlets owned by – or sympathetic to – powerful private interests with close ties to the CPP will be left with a monopoly on the truth, warn Cambodia watchers. According to Sophal Ear, political analyst and associate professor at Occidental College, Los Angeles, it is an outcome the government has long pursued.

“In the battle for hearts and minds, it’s easier for fake news to win when there is no competition,” he said. “The attempt here is to control the narrative. Suppress dissent, and you will have only pro-government voices. Of course, the next step is to suppress social media and be like China. [But] demographically, people obtain their news from Facebook in Cambodia. Unless you can control Facebook, you really do not control anything.”

Reporting by the Post and the Daily, though their coverage has rarely led to real consequences for those in power, has introduced a level of transparency that many Cambodians have come to rely on. As of this writing, the Facebook page of the Khmer edition of the Post has 5.5m likes, while the English edition has less than a million.

A group of Khmer university students who spoke with Southeast Asia Globe on condition of anonymity felt the sale of the Post had effectively silenced the paper, along with the other English- and Khmer-language media outlets that have helped them form opinions on their government.

Although the students seek real news on Facebook, they said they do not feel safe posting anything on social media that could be construed as anti-government, citing the criminal case against Hun Sen critic Sam Sokha, who posted a video that showed her throwing her shoe at a CPP sign. One student thought the government would loosen its grip on the media after the election, but others were dubious. “I don’t think it’s going to happen,” said another student, who said his boss told him to cancel his company’s subscription to the Post after it was sold. “I feel the Post will become pro-government. I feel it.”

During Gathapany’s press conference, he implied as much. “Why do we need to be critical” of the government, he asked the press. “Where I come from, we report the facts.”

In many ways, the upset at the Post marks the end of the CPP’s quest for dominance over every facet of Cambodian life. Through years of private patronage and violent crackdowns on political rivals, the party has established its control not only over the nation’s police and armed forces, but also the Senate and National Assembly.

Last year’s dissolution of the opposition CNRP was in many ways the perfection of this network of domination. The CPP-controlled National Assembly and Senate passed legislation allowing for the dissolution of any party whose steering committee was linked to a crime. Leaked audio recordings allegedly of key opposition politicians were fed to pro-government media to stoke a campaign of innuendo against politicians including opposition leader Kem Sokha, who was accused of prostitution and, eventually, being in service to foreign powers. Sokha’s midnight arrest and detention for treason proved all the evidence the Supreme Court needed. The judge who handed down the sentence was himself a member of the CPP’s powerful permanent committee. And all the while, powerful figures within the armed forces threatened violent reprisal against any who dared take to the streets to protest.

Without redress at the ballot box, suggested Norén-Nilsson, the dilution of the free press would see Hun Sen’s government becoming increasingly unaccountable to the Cambodian people: “In the longer perspective, the Post, just as the Daily, offered daily news analysis – the absence of which will undoubtedly make it more difficult for their former readerships to assess the significance of developments from one day to the next. Cambodia’s political trajectory will become more opaque.”

English-language newspapers have enjoyed an unusual measure of editorial freedom in Cambodia by Southeast Asia standards since the 1991 Paris Peace Accords – even as Khmer-language media were kept under tighter state control. But that freedom has existed in a quivering bubble that was always threatening to burst under the pinprick glare of Hun Sen’s government, said Sebastian Strangio, a veteran reporter of the Phnom Penh Post and author of Hun Sen’s Cambodia.

“Cambodia had this political system in which there was a certain amount of space for English-language media to publish in a way that was unique in the region,” Strangio told Southeast Asia Globe. “But that period has come to an end and the government is now applying the same controls that exist in the Khmer-language media against English-language outlets whose presence was always resented.”

Hun Sen and his Cambodia People’s Party have always bristled at what they perceived as a democratic model imposed upon Cambodia by the West, he said.

The smackdown on the media “has a ring of finality to it, which I’ve never seen before in Cambodia,” said Strangio. “It’s hard to say what will happen after the election. After Hun Sen’s power is secure, he may decide to loosen slightly the bounds of permissible dissent or he may simply shift the country into a more permanent form of de facto one-party rule… So we’ll have to wait and see. I think there could be some small concessions and loosenings, though I’m not holding my breath.”’

Strangio suggests the crackdown is “Hun Sen’s final reckoning with forces that threaten to escape his control” – essentially, the leader has turned back the clock and taken the Kingdom back to its authoritarian past and “shrugged off the pretence of multiparty democracy”.

In the end, it’s Cambodians who should have the last say in what the media crackdown means to them and their future. The students who spoke with Southeast Asia Globe painted a blunt picture of the nation’s political outlook.

“Whoever’s on top can do something very quickly, close the independent media, arrest the biggest opposition leaders,” said the university student. “You can do all of these things without protest, without anything, without violence, without civil war. So why should our prime minister [allow dissent] again?… I worry that we will not have reliable news to read to know what’s really going on in our society. We’re going to be blind.”

[my-pocket-universe]

1, 6, 23, 24, and 30 for wondertrev please!!!!!!!

Wondertrev headcanons!

Omg @justpond–eringtheuniverse thank you so much for doing this OTP question meme with me. You have no idea how stoked I am. I love Wondertrev so much my heart could implode and I have so much to say about them! Please bear with me as this is going to be one hell of a long post and I apologise in advance for the overwhelming length.The following answers are based on my head-canon, in which Steve somehow was resurrected and returned to Diana as an immortal (perhaps as a gift from the powers that be), soon after the explosion and defeat of Ares in 1918, and they have been living blissfully ever after.I must emphasise the fact that I love fanfics that have Steve resurrected and become immortal in the 21st century as much as the next Wondertrev shipper, given the interesting role reversal and the fish-out-of-water situations that have Steve attempt to adjust to modern technology, but my heart aches whenever I try to imagine how excruciating and disheartening it must have been for Diana to live through a century without Steve. Alas, here we go:

1. Who is the most affectionate?They are both passionate about each other but their upbringings make them manifest their love and passion very differently. She may seem reserved to others (with the exception of her original friends like Etta and the guys) but Diana is never one to hide her emotions and perpetually deep affection for Steve, in private or in public - she speaks her mind and put her words and thoughts into action, praising, complimenting, kissing, hugging, caressing and touching him whenever possible. Canonically speaking, in the movie, Diana was the one to hold his hand first and she made it clear that she wanted him to stay in her room in the inn in Veld and she even initiated the kiss. She is unfazed by the societal expectations, norms, customs and traditions of Man’s world which were holding Steve back occasionally. I like to think he is just as affectionate (and he certainly loves her as much) but he was also brought up as a gentleman and born in 1880s after all. At first he wasn’t too accustomed to public display of affection beyond hand holding, cupping Diana’s face, touching her hair and light kisses on her forehead or cheeks but eventually he became bolder and more relaxed in public with her, as they cherished every opportunity to be affectionate to their other half, especially after almost losing each other forever that night in the airfield in Belgium in 1918 and the societal standards changed gradually over the century they have been living in as a couple. It also had something to do with how Diana was rubbing off on him with her Amazonian ways. Steve is also the one to shower Diana with surprises whenever possible and mostly something non-materialistic as he knows well enough the preferences of his goddess. At home or in private they are very on par and in sync in terms of affection, although Diana would be more verbal about everything and Steve tries his best to catch up. They just love each other with every fiber of their being.

6. What is their favourite feature of their partner’s?Diana’s favourite feature(s) of Steve would definitely be his mesmerising and bright cerulean eyes which remind her of the tranquillising blue waters of Themyscira. A close second would be his ash blonde hair (and he’s been keeping the same haircut from 1918 to 2018, as it never goes out of style), followed by his physique. She is just so pleased with his well above-average overall physical appearance and vigour and there is nothing she would find undesirable. To Steve, Diana is his angel (and actual goddess and salvation) and his love for her is a combination of utmost respect, devotion, admiration, affection, adoration and romantic attraction, thus to him she is simply perfect in every sense and it may be hard to pinpoint a feature but if one must ask he would say her eyes can reach one’s soul and her lips hold all the truths in the universe and he would never get tired of savouring her ethereal beauty.

23. Who comes up with cheesy pickup lines?Gotta hand this one to Steve. His dry and sometimes cheesy humour is incredibly endearing to Diana and when the pickup lines are embarrassing he blushes so hard and Diana would first chuckle and then kiss him. Every now and then she turns the table on him and be the one to say them and for him it is always part hilarious and part enticing. Both of them can be goofy at times and they always end up laughing at the lines together lightheartedly.

24. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?Both, although Diana instigated this. In the beginning, she didn’t even realise these things and circumstances are inappropriate because they seemed normal on Themyscira. It certainly had him very flustered and made it difficult for him to keep his composure when she first did that. Eventually Steve was emboldened and she knew he could handle this and they frequently do this to each other.

30. One headcanon about this OTP that mends itThis is by far the best question and I could talk about it all day. And if I were a better writer I would turn this into a fic (I actually tried and am still too ashamed to publish it, seeing there are so many brilliant pieces already, or perhaps I will, when I finally have mustered up enough courage to do so). Humour me, yeah?

Essentially, the major headcanon - shortly after blowing up the German bomber plane with himself in it, in Belgium, 1918, Steve was resurrected and returned to Diana as an immortal and they have been living blissfully ever after - encapsulates numerous minor headcanons:

1918 to 1940s:

a month into their reunion, Steve proposed to Diana and she immediately said yes; marriage might have been a foreign concept to her at first but after having been through so much in terms of life and death, they couldn’t and wouldn’t be separated again, and matrimony became very justified ; they wanted to hold, cherish and love each other more than anything and they intended to spend the rest of their eternal(!) lives together

Diana and Steve had a simple yet blissful wedding ceremony at the City Hall, attended by Steve’s only and elder sister Tracy, Etta, Charlie, Sameer and the Chief and their family members (Steve’s parents passed away before he joined the US Army)

Steve was in his US Army military uniform and he was stunned by the breathtaking sight of Diana when she entered the room, escorted by Etta and Tracy; she wore an airy sleeveless and low-cut white silk wedding gown that made her resemble the Greek marble statues and he was lovesick and his eyes glistened with joyful tears and he grinned so hard his cheeks stiffened, meanwhile she was blushing and smiling like he was the most precious being in the universe

They were now Steve and Diana Prince-Trevor; Diana thought she liked the sound of Mrs Trevor, there was a nice ring to it, however, out of respect, Steve said it was up to her to keep the surname he crafted for her, and they decided on hyphenating them

British Intelligence learnt of Steve’s immortality and his profile became top secret; due to his physical advantage over other officers and criminals, he was assigned special ops and high-risk rescue missions, much to Diana’s dismay (”Steve, you are not invincible, you could still get hurt,” sighed Diana), but Steve wanted to help more people, so he assured her that he would take proper care of himself and if she wanted to help him he was more than content to have her by his side; British Intelligence obviously knew about Diana and her identity as Wonder Woman by now and they condoned this

Diana received a degree in ancient art history and archeology from Oxford, completing the courses in less than 3 years, which wasn’t surprising to Steve at all; she speaks hundreds of languages and has an eidetic memory, for starters, and she went on to become a curator of the British Museum

1940s to 1970s:

They fought side by side during WWII and helped the allies tremendously in liberating concentration camps, pushing the frontlines and gathering  strategic intel

After the war, Steve resumed his secret missions for British Intelligence and Diana also joined SIS, as her colleagues at the British Museum began to show concern for, if not suspect, her apparent lack of aging; the SIS continued to provide them with identifications that could avoid suspicion pertaining to their condition

They visited Tracy and her family every now and then; she kept the questions about his peculiarly youthful appearance to herself and Steve was more than grateful for her understanding and she passed on at the age of 70; her children were curious about their uncle’s secret too but knew better not to ask

They maintained their close friendships with Etta, Sameer, Charlie and the Chief over the years, up until their passing, either due to old age or illness; afterwards, Diana and Steve had a sabbatical and travelled the world for several years, their wealth accumulated over the years kept them comfortable

1980s to present:

After their sabbatical, they parted with British Intelligence to relocate to the US, and there they joined the CIA (the Agency knew about Steve and Diana and their work from top-secret joint missions with the SIS); they were living in the States only every now and then as their operations required frequent worldwide travels; a decade or so later Steve requested a transfer to a command and strategic position based in the US as Diana became a curator for the Smithsonian Institution

Another decade later, Justice League was formed, and Steve has been leading US government’s ARGUS since; Diana is Head of Antiquities at Louvre when she isn’t busy saving the world as Wonder Woman

100 years later Diana and Steve are still living happily ever after and saving the world together

Throughout the years:

They tried out various flavours and types of ice cream in countries they visited but Diana’s favourite is always the homemade ones Steve concocts for her

So is breakfast, they certainly sampled numerous and miscellaneous kinds during their globetrotting travels, yet she always favours the Trevor special, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, hashbrown, baked beans and toast always all cooked just right and impeccable, prepared before she wakes up and served in a tray to be enjoyed in bed, and always followed by cuddling

Steve’s missions always require him to pilot airplanes; despite knowing he is immortal, Diana still gets worried (but she doesn’t make a fuss about it and Steve really appreciates that)

Diana and Steve didn’t always just work for the government, they make their best effort to save people outside of the bureaus’ jurisdictions whenever possible

Steve’s father’s watch is kept in a safe for preservation; Steve and Diana have been wearing matching watches (besides always wearing matching couple outfits, much to the amusement of their friends and acquaintances)

They rarely argue, let alone fight, and if they did they reconcile soon after (Steve is always patient and understanding and Diana is very compassionate and caring)

Diana is amused when she realised Steve actually needs glasses (despite his excellent marksmanship) and she chose pairs of them for him; although Steve started wearing contact lens once they were commercialised, he still wears glasses from time to time (think Chris Pine wearing glasses, *wink wink*)

Steve is polylingual (English, French, German, Dutch, Danish and Swedish) and Diana is always there to teach him other languages, either for professional or personal/recreational purposes

They always make time for vacation

They visit Themyscira every 3 years (except during WWII)

When they are at home they always find time to sway to some slow and soothing music

[bookofjin]

Annals of Emperor Wu, Part 1

[Warning. Names, decrees, not much else. Also one giant. From JS003]

The Martial August Emperor [wu huangdi], taboo Yan, courtesy name Anshi, was Emperor Wen's eldest son. He was magnanimous, kind, humane, and generous, and was taken to deeply having measures and capacity. In the middle of Wei's Jiaping [249 – 253], he was enfeoffed of Beiping village. He was successively Serving within the Palace, Chief Commandant of the Serving Chariots, and General of the Central Ramparts. He was concurrently Cavalier in Regular Attendance, and amassed to move to Army-Protector of the Centre, Acting with the Tally. He welcomed the Duke of Yingchang district at Dongwuyang, moved to Army-Consoler of the Centre, and advanced in fief to Xinchang district. When the state of Jin was set up, he was established as Heir. He was designated Great Army who Consoles of Army, Opening Office, assistant deputy to the Chancellor of State.

Earlier, Emperor Wen, since Emperor Jing had been Emperor Xuan's heritor, but had died young without descendants, used the Emperor's younger brother You as the inheritor, specially imparted [on him] especial love [?], speaking of himself as deputizing the post of assisting the throne, and that after a hundred years, the great patrimony ought to revert to You. He always said:

This is King Jing's Under Heaven, why I have it? [?]

He wanted to discuss establishing a Heir, with thoughts of turning it over to You. He Zeng [JS033] and others firmly disputed, saying:

The Army-Consoler of the Centre is intelligent, enlightened and godly martial, and has talents surpassing his generation, his hair piles up on the ground, his hands goes beyond the knees. This is not the assessment of a man who is a subject.

With that it was then settled.

2nd Year of Xianxi, 5th Month [1 June – 30 June 265], he was established as Heir-Apparent to the King of Jin.

8th Month, xinmao [6 September], Emperor Wen expired. The Heir-Apparent inherited the rank of Chancellor of State and King of Jin. Sent down orders to loosen punishments and pardon crimes, console the multitudes and put stop to labour service, inside the state to wear mourning clothes for three days.

That Month [29 August – 26 September], a tall man was seen in Xiangwu, 3 zhang  [~7.5 m] tall. He proclaimed to a native of the county, Wang Shi, saying:

Now there will be a Grand Peace [taiping].

[The name of the man seeing the giant, Wang Shi王始, literally means “King's Beginning”]

9th Month, wuwu [3 October], used Wei's Minister over the Masses, He Zeng [JS033], as Imperial Chancellor; the General who Garrisons the South, Wang Chen [JS040], as Imperial Clerk Grandee; the Army-Protector of the Centre, Jia Chong [JS040] As General of Guards; the Consultant Gentleman Pei Xiu [JS035] as Prefect of the Masters of Writing and Brilliantly Blessed Grandee; all Opening Office.

11th Month [25 November – 24 December], began to set up four Army-Protectors, to control the various armies outside of the city.

On yiwei [8 January 266?], ordered the various commandery Central Correctors to use six categories to raise up belatedly [those] left behind [?]:

The first was the loyal and reverently with no [thoughts for their own] persons, The second was loyal and respectful to the utmost of the rites. The third was friendly to ones brothers. The fourth was pure in person labouring humbly. The fifth was trustworthy, righteous possibly repeatedly. The sixth was studying in itself [?].

At that time Jin's virtues had permeated the Four Seas' homes and hearts. Hence the Son of Heaven understood the allotted time had gone, and therefore sent the Grand Guardian, Zheng Chong [JS033], to receive the record which said:

Inquire into this with the King of Jin: Our August Ancestor who was of the Yu clan expansively accepted the numinous fortune, received in the end from Taotang, likewise used the instructions to give to the Xia. Only three sovereigns climbed to pair with Heaven, yet [?] all used the brilliance to spread sagely virtue. From them and their descendants, Heaven again gathered the Great Instructions to Han. When the virtue of fire had declined, then [Heaven] turned gaze to instruct our Gaozu.

[The Cao clan claimed descent from Emperor Shun whose clan was Yu. Taotang was the clan of Emperor Yao.]

The square path [to?] the enlightened display of Yu and Xia's four eras [?], I do not dare to understand. However the King's grandfather and father [?] applied and undertook with enlightened wisdom to assist and bring light to our August House, [their?] meritorious virtue shining on the Four Seas. Putting together like this above and below godly reverence, [what?] the befuddled did not carry out obediently, the Earth was levelled and Heaven completed, the ten thousand nations thereby governed. Responding to receive the Instructions of the High God, the Mean of the Unison August Utmost [?].

So then We [予] the Lonely Man reverently inherited the Heavenly sequence, thereby respectfully conferring like this the throne, the allotted time truly being with this person [?]. Verily holding fast to its Mean, the Heaven's blessing [is a the] perpetual end.

Indeed! The King thus respectfully obey Heavens Instructions. Lead to pervasively [?] teach the canons, reach the soothing the four quarters of the state, use and guard Heaven's beneficence, without doing away with our Two Augusts' vast zeal.

The Emperor in the beginning used the rites to yield. The Wei court's Excellencies and ministers, He Zeng, Wang Chen and others, firmly requested it. He therefore followed it.

[Taishi 1]

[8 February 266 – 21 February 266]

1st Year of Taishi [“Grand Beginnings”], Winter, 12th Month, bingyin [8 February 266], built an altar at the southern suburbs. Those assembled of the hundred companies with ranks, the Southern Shanyu of the Xiongnu and the Four Barbarians were several tens of thousand people. Lit the fire to announce the arrangements to the High God, saying:

The August Emperor's Subject, Yan, dares to use dark-coloured victims to clarify and announce to the August August Sovereign God: The Emperor of Wei examines the Way of the Unison August, carrying on Heaven's Enlightened Instructions to thereby instruct Yan,

In the past Yao of Tang, splendidly prospering the Great Way, abdicated the throne to Shun of Yu. Shun also accordingly abdicated to Yu, his striding virtue handing down teachings for many successive years. Arriving at Han's virtue having declined, the Grand Founder, the Martial August Emperor swept away chaos and aided the times, supporting and sheltering the Liu clan, again applying the received instructions from Han.

Yea, then there was the House of Wei, in the following generations there were many mishaps, how many from the peak fell down, truly depending on having Jin's virtue of corrective help, made use of to similarly guard them carrying out the sacrifices, vastly aiding in the pressing difficulties. This then was Jin's having great attainments from Wei.

Expansively however in the Four Quarters, the befuddled did not respect and obey [?], the periphery purely bridging the Min [?], wrapped in the bosom spreading beyond [?], the eight sides vastly on the same path, the auspicious omens again and again arriving, Heaven and Man's united response, nobody thought not to submit. So then We taking as standard to set forth the three sovereigns, make use of assembling the Great Instructions from this.

Yan maintained the virtue not inherited, declining for not similarly being instructed [?]. Hence the crowd of Excellencies, ministers and gentlemen, the hundred nobles and numerous companions, the masses offering to keep company as servants, reaching until the chieftains of the Hundred Man [tribes], all said:

“August Heaven reflecting on the beneath, seeking the afflictions of the people, already have the complete instructions. Firmly not overcoming the yielding obtains resistance and disobedience. The Heavenly sequence cannot thereby control, the spirits of men cannot thereby broadly rule.”

Yan reverently receives the August fortunes, respecting and fearing Heaven's power, honouring frugally [?] the inaugural time, climbing the altar to receive the abdication, announcing the arrangements to the High God, perpetually answering the multitudes' expectations.

The rites completed, he assumed the palaces of Luoyang to favour the Grand Utmost Front Hall. A decree said:

Formerly Our August Grandfather, King Xuan, sagely, wise, respectful and enlightened, expansively responded to the times' fortunes, shining on the Emperor's burdens, commencing and beginning the vast foundation. [Our] Late Elder, King Jing trod the way and proclaimed the plan, mending and shining on the various Xia. Arriving at [Our] August Late Father, King Wen, astute, wise, brilliant and far reaching, indeed united the spirits' reverence [?], responding to Heaven and obeying the times, accepted these enlightened instructions, humanely aid to the eaves and ridge-poles [the cosmos], achieving bringing order to above and below.

So then the Wei clan's vast perceptions in the ancient teachings, the rites and laws in Tang and Yu, who consulted the crowd of princes, lead to bringing together the Great Instructions in Our Person. We the Lonely Man in awe of the Instructions of Heaven, made use of not daring to disobey.

Nevertheless We of scant virtue, carrying and shouldering the vast zeal, entrusted to be the superior to kings and dukes, as Lord presiding over the four, fearful and fretful with only dread, are befuddled in understanding help [?]. Nevertheless the assistance of you the thighs and forearms, claws and teeth, subjects of civil and military [skill] without equal, as your grandfathers and fathers, truly the left and right of our Former King, brilliantly prospers our Great Patrimony. Think with the ten thousand states, together enjoy beneficent blessings.

Hence there was a great amnesty, and changed the inaugural [to Taishi]. Bestowed on Under Heaven noble rank, five grades per person, on widowers, widows, orphans, the solitary and those not able to take care of themselves grain, 5 hu per person. Remitted Under Heaven's rents and taxes and the duties of the frontier markets for one year, unsettled debt and past burdens all never to be collected. Eliminated old mistrusts and loosened restrictions and prohibitions. The lost feudal ranks of perished officials were thoroughly restored to them.

On dingmao [9 February], dispatched the Grand Coachman Liu Yuan to announce to the Grand Temple.

Enfeoffed the Wei Emperor as King of Chenliu, with an estate of 10 000 households, to live in the palaces of Ye, the various kings of the Wei clan all to be marquises of counties.

Posthumously honoured King Xuan as August Emperor Xuan, King Jing as August Emperor Jing, King Wen as August Emperor Wen, King Xuan's Consort, Ms. Zhang, as August Empress Xuanmu.

Honoured the Consort Dowager, Ms. Wang, as August Empress Dowager, her palaced named Chonghua [“Esteemed Reform”].

Enfeoffed the imperial granduncle Fu as King of Anping.

[Sima Fu was Sima Yi's younger brother, by this point the only one still living of that generation.]

The imperial uncles: Gan as King of Pingyuan, Liang as King of Fufeng, Zhou as King of Dongguan, Jun as King of Ruyin, Yong as King of Liang, Lun as King of Langye.

[Sons of Sima Yi, Sima Zhao's younger brothers.]

The imperial brothers: You as King of Qi, Jian as King of Le'an, Ji as King of Yan.

[Sima Zhao's younger sons.]

The imperial elder first cousin once removed Wang as King of Yiyang.

[Sima Wang was son of Sima Fu, he been made the adopted son of Sima Lang, Yi and Fu's elder brother, and so technically was senior to the Emperor in the family hierarchy.]

The imperial junior first cousins once removed: Fu輔 as King of Bohai, Huang as King of Xiapi, Gui瑰 as King of Taiyuan, Gui珪 as King of Gaoyang, Heng as King of Changshan, Ziwen as King of Pei, Tai as King of Longxi, Quan as Pengcheng, Sui綏 as King of Fanyang, Sui遂 as King of Ji'nan, Xun as King of Qiao, Mu as King of Zhongshan, Ling as King of Beihai, Bin as Chen.

[Sons of Sima Yi's younger brothers, i.e. of the same generation as Sima Zhao.]

The imperial senior second cousin Hong as King of Hejian

[Sima Hong was Sima Wang's second son, who had been made the adopted son of Sima Lang's son Sima Yi遺]

The imperial junior second cousin Mao as King of Dongping.

[Sima Mao was Sima Wang's fourth son.]

Used the General of Agile Cavalry, Shi Bao [JS033], as Great Marshal, enfeoffed as Duke of Leling; the General of Chariots and Cavalry, Chen Qian [JS035], as Duke of Gaoping; the General of Guards, Jia Chong [JS040], as General of Chariots and Cavalry, Duke of Lu; the Prefect of the Masters of Writing, Pei Xiu [JS035], as Duke of Julu; the Palace Attendant Xun Xu [JS039] as Duke of Jibei; the Grand Guardian Zheng Chong [JS033] as Grand Tutor and Duke of Shouguang; the Grand Commandant, Wang Xiang [JS033], as Grand Guardian and Duke of Suiling; the Imperial Chancellor, He Zheng [JS033], as Grand Commandant and Duke of Langling; the  Imperial Clerk Grandee, Wang Chen [JS039] as General of Agile Cavalry, Duke of Boling; the Minister of Works, Xun Yi [JS039], as Duke of Linhai; the Great General who Garrisons the North, Wei Guan [JS036], as Duke of Ziyang.

The remainder were increased in fief and advanced in feudal rank each proportionally. The civil and military officials were universally increased in rank by two steps.

Changed the Jingchu calendar to be the Taishi calendar. For the la臘 twelfth month sacrifice used you酉 (the 10th branch), for the altar of soil sacrifices used chou丑 (the 2nd branch). [The Jingchu calendar had been instituted by Cao Rui, I believe the rest refers to which days certain sacrifices were made.]

On wuchen [10 February], sent down a decree the great and vast [be?] frugal and restrained, and sent out the imperial offices' things of precious stones, jades and playthings, conferring and bestowing them on the Kings, Excellencies and down each proportionally.

Set up the General of the Central Army, to thereby control the Lodged Guards and Seven Armies.

On jisi [11 February], decreed the King of Chenliu to carry the flags and banners of the Son of Heaven, to prepare the Five Seaons Assistant Chariot, for journeying on the Wei New Year, suburban sacrifices to Heaven and Earth, rites and music, rules and measures al to be like in Wei in the past, and when sending up submissions not to call himself a subject.

Bestowed on the Duke of Shanyang, Liu Kang, and the Duke of Anle, Liu Shan, one son or brother to be Chief Commandant of Attendant Cavalry.

On yihai [17 February], used the King of Anping, Fu as Grand Steward, Acting with Yellow Battle-axe, Great Commander-in-Chief of All Army Affairs in the Centre and Outside.

A decree said:

Formerly, Wang Ling planned to depose the King of Qi, yet the King in the end was insufficient to ward the throne [?]. Deng Ai, although prudent and meritorious, was deficient in moderation, and as such with bound hands received punishment. Now greatly pardon their families, restore and bring about establishing their descendants.

Arise the extinguished and continue the cut off, restrain the law and scrutinize punishments. Remove the restrictions and prohibitions of the Wei clan's imperial house. Those of the various generals and magistrates who have come across the three year mourning, dispatch to soothe and end the mourning [?]. For the hundred families remit the their compulsory labour service. Cease with the private troops commanders, chiefs, magistrates and below providing hostages.

Scrutinize the commanderies and states' management and transfers [?]. Forbid the music office' performers of delicate and beautiful hundred plays and the drawing up of engraved ornaments on the roaming hunt [?].

[Not sure if all of the above are really intended as direct quotations of a single decee.]

This Month [23 January – 21 February], six phoenixes, three blue-green dragons, two white dragons and one qilin seen in the commanderies and states.

[steveclinekh]

He Starved, Suffered and Nearly Died, but Never Lost Hope Genocide survivor went on to be a Cambodian minister, and seeks now to inspire the young The Straits Times 22 Mar 2020 Wong Kim Hoh Senior Writer kimhoh@sph.com.sg PHOTOS: KELLY HUI, VENG SEREYVUTH Veng Sereyvuth has a passionate belief.

“You are born with the power to dream, to make choices, to craft your destiny. No one except you can steal that from you,” he says.

Before you dismiss that as a platitude, consider who he is and what he has gone through.

The 61-year-old survived the Cambodian genocide during which more than two million people died under the Khmer Rouge, which was in power between 1975 and 1979, led by Marxist leader Pol Pot.

His life has been both a melodrama and a potboiler: a village boy who became a cyclo driver, a smuggler, a prisoner, a refugee, a political science graduate and, eventually, a politician who served as Cambodia’s minister for tourism and minister for culture.

Along the way, he starved, suffered and stared death in the face on several occasions. But through it all, he never gave up hope.

Today, he is a businessman and educationist; he has built hotels and other properties and is chairman of the board of trustees at the Pannasastra University of Cambodia, a private university in Phnom Penh which provides an English-based education.

Mr Veng does not have the statesman-like gravitas one expects of someone who has spent more than two decades as a senior minister.

Dressed in jeans and a white shirt with a cotton krama (a traditional Cambodian scarf) around his neck, he radiates approachability and joviality.

He was in Singapore recently to put the finishing touches to No One Born Poor: Prisoner, Politician, Pioneer, a book about his life published by Write Editions and available at major bookstores in June.

Calling the book a tribute to the country he loves, he hopes that his story of “challenging life, confronting the unknown and embracing its ups and downs” will give hope to many people, especially the young.

He was born the second of six children in the remote village of Prey Deoum Thieng in the Cambodian province of Prey Veng.

His father was a teacher and his mother ran a provision shop. The couple later separated, and Mr Veng and his siblings were raised by his mother, whom he describes as a “commander-in-chief” and the strongest person he knows.

Life in the village was idyllic. He loved going to school, spurred on by his mother who fervently believes that education is not just the ticket to a better life, but also makes one a better person.

But civil strife soon rocked the country when a military coup overthrew head of state Prince Norodom Sihanouk in 1970.

The Khmer Rouge started becoming more powerful; they were communist revolutionaries who saw religion, education and freedom as dangerous.

Realising that life in their village was getting untenable, Mr Veng’s mother decided to uproot her brood to Phnom Penh in 1972.

She decided to do it first with Mr Veng, who was then just 12, before coming back for her other children.

Because the Khmer Rouge killed villagers who tried to flee for the city, mother and son escaped through rice fields in the dark of the night before taking a boat across the Mekong to get to Phnom Penh.

“It was a real ordeal, a life-anddeath situation. I saw dead bodies, and heads on bamboo poles,” recalls the amiable man whose other siblings arrived in the city several weeks later.

With no income from a provision shop to feed her brood, his mother started selling noodles.

Mr Veng continued his education at a French Catholic school, but sold bread to office workers before classes began and became a cyclo – a three-wheeled taxi – driver after school ended.

Life was tough but as he writes in his book: “I didn’t see myself as a cyclo driver, as it was not my final mission in life. It could not be. It must not be. The cyclo was a tool to meet two needs: to fill my stomach and pay for my education. Nothing more, nothing less.”

In 1975, the Khmer Rouge won the civil war and captured Phnom Penh. They emptied the cities, forcing millions of Cambodians, including Mr Veng’s family, back to the countryside.

Not long after they began their trek to a village in Prey Veng, Mr Veng’s mother told him to go back to their Phnom Penh home to get a 20kg pot of preserved fish because it would provide sustenance for their month-long journey.

But the then 15-year-old was stopped by soldiers who ordered him to turn back. When he moved forward, a soldier pointed a gun at him. Mr Veng begged for permission to get his pot of fish. To his surprise, the soldier let him through.

The episode taught him one thing: You need courage and conviction for everything you do in life.

“For me, it means protecting the preserved fish, at all costs, for my family.”

The Khmer Rouge were brutal in their quest to set up an agrarian utopia, torturing and killing intellectuals and anyone else they considered a threat to communism.

Mr Veng and his brothers escaped death, but, like millions of their countrymen, were sent to slave at labour camps.

The Khmer Rouge lost their grip on power in 1979 when Vietnamese forces took control of Phnom Penh.

It was not just another chapter in the country’s history but also in his life. To help his family survive, he became a smuggler, sneaking to the Thai border to buy cartons of cigarettes – apparently more valuable than money then – which he would trade or sell.

It nearly cost him his life on several occasions. Once, he was denied entry at a checkpoint by soldiers who wanted his cigarettes.

To get across, he made eye contact with people on the other side of the metal barrier and told them in a low voice to leave a gap for him to pass through when the barrier was lifted.

He made a dash for it on his bicycle, pedalling furiously as the sound of bullets reverberated behind him. By the time he stopped, his feet were bloody from the desperate pedalling.

Asked if he has ever thought about death, he says with a laugh: “When you live in a structured and orderly society, you think about things like that. But when you live in hell...”

He continues: “I had no choice. I just did what I needed to do to feed the family. You get out of a situation first and get scared later. You deal with death only when it comes.”

His family cried each time he went away because they were worried he might not come home.

“Every trip was three weeks or a month long. Things could happen: sometimes you could not get the goods, sometimes there were shootings, sometimes you just could not get back i nto Cambodia. I had stayed in forests where I just ate what I had and what I could find.”

Hunger was a constant companion. “You can check with your doctor friends but when you’re really hungry, your stomach feels like it’s being cut into pieces with a knife,” says Mr Veng, who was once so weak from hunger he had to be propped into a sitting position at mealtimes with a rope tied to the ceiling.

The year 1979 also marked one of the lowest periods in his life.

Soldiers stopped him on his bicycle while he was riding home to Prey Veng with a sack of 200 bicycle spokes he hoped to sell. They accused him of sending the spokes to the Khmer Rouge and threw him into a dark prison for a month.

Then, one day, he was taken blindfolded to the Mekong. He felt a gun muzzle on his left cheek, and heard the weapon being cocked as he was asked if he was part of the Khmer Rouge.

He just blurted: “I’m a student.” That split second of telling the truth, he says, spared him from getting his head blown off.

The era of the Khmer Rouge might have been over but fear and uncertainty still blanketed the country.

Overwhelmed by the hopelessness, he and his family decided to “turn this game of life around” and take the big risk of escaping to the Khao-I-Dang refugee camp – set up in late 1979 and run by the Thai Interior Ministry and the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees – across the Thai border.

They split into two groups. He and two of his sisters set out first. The plan was to reunite with his mother and other siblings at the refugee camp.

Thousands had died undertaking the weeks-long journey which was fraught with many dangers, from landmines to trigger-happy soldiers. Mr Veng and his two sisters moved mostly at night to avoid getting caught.

They made it, and so did the rest of the family.

“It was a miracle. The border stretched for hundreds of kilometres but we managed to find one another,” he says.

They stayed in the camp for one year.

“It was a completely different life. There were no guns and no fear. You mingled with other people and walked about freely in the camp. You could sleep and wake up, a free man.”

Nearly a year later, the family were told that they would be going to New Zealand.

“It was surreal, we were speechless,” recalls Mr Veng, who landed in Auckland with his family in September 1980.

There, he worked at several places including a printing firm and an ice-cream shop while attending English, maths, economics and accounting classes at a polytechnic.

In 1984, he got accepted into the University of Victoria on a special admissions scheme. It was hard because he had not mastered the English language, but his will bulldozed through the obstacles, and he graduated with a degree in political science in 1987.

He never forgot Cambodia though. For a year, he was haunted by nightmares of what he had lived through. To exorcise his demons, he shared his story openly with his lecturers and classmates.

He also joined the secretariat of the Khmer Association in New Zealand to help new refugees adapt to life in the country. The association also built the first Cambodian pagoda in the country.

The urge to return to help rebuild his homeland was “instinctive”.

“It’s my country. It’s where I came from and I wanted to give back. Gratitude is my attitude,” says Mr Veng, who spent more than a year working as a taxi driver – “you can make a lot of money” – before heading for Bangkok in 1989.

He could not enter Cambodia because the country was still in political turmoil. In Bangkok, he volunteered with The National United Front for an Independent Neutral and Cooperative Cambodia and worked with refugees along the Thai border.

In 1993, he took part in Cambodia’s general election and became a member of Parliament as well as minister for tourism, a post he held until 2004.

“It was one of my top achievements,” says Mr Veng, who was also minister to the council of ministers and minister for culture.

Among other things, he chaired an initiative to step up the flow of tourist dollars in the region, resulting in the signing of the Asean Tourism Agreement in Cambodia in 2002.

Except for two of his sisters, Mr Veng’s mother and other siblings have also returned to live in Cambodia. He has a son, 22, who is studying public policy at the University of Victoria; his former wife died in an accident several years ago.

The congenial man, who holds both Cambodian and New Zealand citizenships, went into business after leaving politics in 2013 but focuses a lot of his attention on education for young Cambodians.

Mr Veng, who often gives talks to inspire others, says his philosophy in life is simple.

“I believe that on the canvas of humanity, we are to paint goodness: the able extending goodness to those without hope, the distressed and the needy.”

Chairman of the Board: H.E. Veng Sereyvuth held various ministerial positions in the Royal Government of Cambodia since 1993, including co-minister of Council of Ministers, Senior Minister of Tourism, and Senior Minister of Art and Culture. H.E. Veng Sereyvuth received a Business Administration's degree from Victoria University Wellington, New Zealand;