#ice is precious and we must protect him at all costs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jackoshadows · 3 years

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“You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be Knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.” - Eddard, A Game of Thrones

My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I’ll lay you down, I’ll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown - Arya, A Storm of Swords

“Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them.” - Kevan, A Dance with Dragons

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So this is an essay of sorts on my speculation/theory that Arya is going to end up as a leader of the North by the end of the series. I will split this into several parts:

Arya and leadership

Arya and Northern leadership

Arya and Nymeria

Skillsets

Importance of being a Warg/Skinchanger

Succession

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Arya Stark and leadership

“Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.“ - Arya, AGoT

Arya has always been a leader rather than a follower. Just like Jon at the wall, she initially chafes at having to follow orders instead of doing what she thinks is the right thing to do. Despite Gendry and Hot Pie being older than her, she’s the one giving the orders and making the plans. She manipulates or forces characters into doing what she wants – getting Gendry to leave Harrenhal and forcing Jaqen to help her free the Northmen.

Arya took the lead, kicking her stolen horse to a brisk heedless trot until the trees close in around her. Hot Pie and Gendry followed as best they could. From time to time Arya glanced over her shoulder, to make sure the two boys had not fallen too far behind, and to see if they were being pursued - Arya, ASoS

Like most of our protagonists, Arya is ambitious and interested in being an active participant at the top. She wanted to become a King’s councilor and build castles. That entire little speech that Varys gives about the ideal candidate for ruling fits Arya to a T.

Arya has gone hungry, scrubbed and cleaned, cooked and kept house, sewed and mended clothes, bound up wounds, been hunted, been scared for her life – and done all this with limited protection. Just survived on her wits. Arya can wield a sword, is fluent in several languages and has studied with a Septa.

We also see war torn Westeros and the suffering of the smallfolk through Arya’s eyes in ACoK and ASoS. It doesn’t matter if it’s Stark or Lannister, the smallfolk suffer the same – Septon Meribald’s ‘Broken Men’ speech in AFfC embodies what Arya observes. After Arya frees the Northmen using weasel soup and Vargo Hoat betrays the Lannisters, there are reprisal killings, torture and rape enacted by Stark bannermen and the sellswords. The smith, Maester and the head maid are executed for merely serving Tywin – something on which they had no choice. Gendry points this out to Arya and she feels guilty for her part in all this.

“I hate this lot worse. Ser Amory was fighting for his lord, but the Mummers are sellswords and turncloaks. Half of them can’t even speak the Common Tongue. Septon Utt likes little boys, Qyburn does black magic, and your friend Biter eats people.”

The worst thing was, she couldn’t even say he was wrong. The Brave Companions did most of the foraging for Harrenhal, and Roose Bolton had given them the task of rooting out Lannisters. Vargo Hoat had divided them into four bands, to visit as many villages as possible. He led the largest group himself, and gave the others to his most trusted captains. She had heard Rorge laughing over Lord Vargo’s way of finding traitors. All he did was return to places he had visited before under Lord Tywin’s banner and seize those who had helped him. – Arya, ACoK

"It’s not a village, it’s only black stones and old bones. “Did the Lannisters kill the people who lived here?” Arya asked as she helped Anguy dry the horses.

“No.” He pointed. “Look at how thick the moss grows on the stones. No one’s moved them for a long time. And there’s a tree growing out of the wall there, see? This place was put to the torch a long time ago.”

“Who did it, then?” asked Gendry.

“Hoster Tully.” Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. “This was Lord Goodbrook’s village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook’s son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn’t help the dead none.”

A silence fell." - Arya, ASoS

"Wolves, she thought again. Like me. Was this her pack? How could they be Robb’s men? She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry.” - Arya, ASoS

The smallfolk in the Riverlands are caught between the Starks, Tullys and Lannisters with no good choices. And on the ground level, Arya sees this, understands this and acknowledges this. Her actions benefited house Stark and no one else. She understands the cost of war.

Arya is also very keen on justice. In that she not only thinks that characters deserve justice, but she wants to actively participate and deliver justice. She considers the execution of Dareon from the NW as a just one.

Dareon had been a deserter from the Night's Watch; he had deserved to die. - Arya, AFfC

“Guilty!” Arya shouted with the rest. “Guilty, guilty, kill him, guilty!” …

Arya could only think of Mycah and all the stupid prayers she’d prayed for the Hound to die. If there were gods, why didn’t Lord Beric win? She knew the Hound was guilty… - Arya, ASoS

Her father beat her so often and so brutally that she was never truly free of pain or fear until she came to us.”

“Did you kill him?”

“She asked the gift for herself, not for her father.”

You should have killed him.“ - Arya, ADWD

Arya drew back from him. "He killed the slave?" That did not sound right. "He should have killed the masters!" – Arya, aDwD

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Arya and Northern leadership

I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. - Hugo Wull

The North has famously never had a female leader in House Stark. So is it possible for valiant Ned’s precious little girl to become the first Lady Stark to lead the North?

In terms of personality, Arya resembles some of the other female leaders/members of Northern houses. She is bold and forward like Lyanna Mormont and Wylla Manderly. She has trained with the sword and learned how to use a bow and arrow. She proactively engineers her own escape like Alys Karstark. Characters like Ygritte and Alys remind Jon Snow of Arya.

Arya venerates Ned Stark. She follows his advice as much as Robb, Bran and Jon do. Even more so. She executes a NW brother for desertion. And that is important for the Starks.

I should kill them myself. Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. - Arya, ACoK

The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. - Bran, AGoT

“The Starks do not use headsmen. Ned always said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the blade, though he never took any joy in the duty.” - Catelyn, ACoK

“Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold.” Robb lifted the heavy axe with both hands. “Here in sight of gods and men, I judge you guilty of murder and high treason. In mine own name I condemn you. With mine own hand I take your life. Would you speak a final word?” - Catelyn, ASoS

The pale morning sunlight ran up and down his blade as Jon clasped the hilt of the bastard sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” he said, expecting one last curse. - Jon, ADwD

Arya is one of the Starkiest Starks of the whole lot. She is also the only Stark to actually have the Stark look. She is stubborn and determined to do things the Stark way. She often uses her father’s advice to guide her way.

Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.“ - Arya, aGoT

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms.- Arya, AGoT

Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. “If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him go look him in the face and hear his last words,” she’d heard him tell Robb and Jon once. - Arya, ACoK

Now there are theories that it is future Bran who was communicating with Arya through the weirwood at Harrenhal, but she does gain strength from her father’s words when she prays to the Old Gods.

Gooseprickles rose on Arya’s skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy. Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father’s voice. “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,” he said. “But there is no pack,” she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall. “I’m not even me now, I’m Nan.” “You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you.” - Arya, ACoK

And while Arya is travelling incognito, GRRM keeps her connected to the North, house Stark and the Northern plot. She starts her journey from KL with a NW brother Yoren. She’s disguised as a boy like Danny Flint, Manderly requests a song about brave Danny Flint at Ramsay’s wedding with ‘Arya’. In the Riverlands, Arya’s plot intersects with her father’s bannermen, she participates in the capture of Harrenhal for house Stark and is there for Roose Bolton’s war council. She meets both Roose Bolton and Aenys Frey – our antagonists in Winterfell facing off against Stannis in ADwD. She meets Robett Glover – who is currently in White Harbor - when she lets him out of the dungeons. She gets Jaqen to help her father’s men.

“Vargo Hoat’s come back with prisoners. I saw their badges. There’s a Glover, from Deepwood Motte, he’s my father’s man. The rest too, mostly.” All of a sudden, Arya knew why her feet had brought her here. “You have to help me get them out.” – Arya, ACoK

Arya looked. She knew all of her father’s men. The three in the grey cloaks were strangers. Arya, AGoT

Twin towers. Sunburst. Bloody man. Battle-axe. The battle-axe is for Cerwyn, and the white sun on black is Karstark. They’re northmen. My father’s men, and Robb’s. - Arya, ACoK

Harwin?” Arya whispered. It was! Under the beard and the tangled hair was the face of Hullen’s son, who used to lead her pony around the yard, ride at quintain with Jon and Robb, and drink too much on feast days. He was thinner, harder somehow, and at Winterfell he had never worn a beard, but it was him—her father’s man. Arya, ASoS

“I bet there are Winterfell men too.” Her father’s men, the Young Wolf’s men, the direwolves of Stark. - Arya, ASoS

Arya is also involved in betrothals/marriage – first to Elmar Frey and then married off to Ramsay Bolton to hold the North. As a side note, her connection to all these bastards is indeed interesting - Elmar Frey, Ramsay Bolton, Gendry and Jon Snow. Is GRRM trying to say something here?

We now have the Northerners and Freys that Arya sees in Harrenhal transposed to Winterfell and ‘her father’s men’ rising up for Arya Stark.

Now, we can speculate and assume that these Northerners would have done the same for the other Starks, but that’s not the point here. In the books, GRRM has written this story to revolve around Arya. The mountain clans are marching for ARYA. The Northern houses are fighting alongside Stannis for ARYA. When lady Barbrey Dustin points out the anger of the Northmen at the treatment of ‘Valiant Ned's precious little girl’ she is talking about ARYA.

GRRM has Stannis wanting to rescue Arya for Jon. He has Mance trying to rescue Arya for Jon. He has Jon breaking his vows and dying trying to rescue Arya. A large part of what drives this plot forward is that it’s Arya, and her special relationship with Jon Snow influences a lot of what is happening south of the wall. The story only happens this way with Arya in the North. And that’s why it’s Arya’s story and not that of any other Stark. Superimposing this or that Stark in place of Arya to make a case for why they would be leader of the North makes no sense. GRRM writing in the marriage of Arya Stark to hold the North makes the case for why Arya is important to the North.

So, Arya has actively helped free Northmen in the Riverlands, engaged with important Northerners and Freys at Harrenhal and drives the plot to take down the Boltons in the North. With her leadership skills, her ability to wield a weapon and fight, looking like Ned, following in Ned’s footsteps and advice, her fierce personality, her loyalty to bannermen, her desire for justice and to help the weak and powerless, her huge direwolf - she would be like the Kings in the North of yore. I think the Northerners will be fine with Arya Stark being the Stark in charge.

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Arya and Nymeria

“What if the wolves come?” “Yield,” Arya suggested - Arya, ACoK

The direwolves are an important part of the books, and an important aspect of the Starks.They are as much a part of the Starks as Dany’s dragons are a part of her. They cannot be ignored as unimportant pets who will end up serving no purpose.

“He is part of you, Robb. To fear him is to fear you.” - Catelyn, ASoS

Ghost did not count. Ghost was closer than a friend. Ghost was part of him - Jon, ADWD

“Part of you is Summer, and part of Summer is you. You know that, Bran.” - Bran, ACoK

“Wolves and women wed for life,” Haggon often said. “You take one, that’s a marriage. The wolf is part of you from that day on, and you’re part of him. Both of you will change.” - Varamyr, ADWD

You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord…The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. - Bran, AGoT

“Roose Bolton has Lord Eddard’s daughter. To thwart him White Harbor must have Ned’s son … and the direwolf. The wolf will prove the boy is who we say he is, should the Dreadfort attempt to deny him.“ - Davos, ADWD

GRRM has mentioned several times that they are important.

The Lannisters are always likening themselves to lions, for example, and their motto “Hear me roar” speaks of a certain way of looking at life. But I think for the Starks it goes a little bit beyond that, especially in this generation, with these direwolves. It’s more than just a handy metaphor with them - GRRM, interview

"Wolves have been part of European folklore, of which America's descended, going back thousands of years. In Rome, Romulus and Remus -- there's always been this relationship between wolves and men." That relationship is seen time and again in Martin's series, and it's one that will Martin says will continue as the last two books are eventually released. Arya's wolf, Nymeria, in particular, will play an important role. "You know, I don't like to give things away." says Martin, a grin spreading across his face. "But you don't hang a giant wolf pack on the wall unless you intend to use it." - GRRM interview

The direwolves are important especially for Arya whose theme is ‘The lone wolf dies but the pack survives’ and there are constant mentions of the pack in her POV chapters. Nymeria is an alpha, a leader of her pack like Arya is a leader of hers.

“She says there’s this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell.” - Arya, ACoK

Throughout ACoK and ASoS, Arya mentions the wolves in the Riverlands. They appear to be just ahead of her or behind her. In her chapters there are mentions of wolves eating people, of Roose going wolf hunting. It’s almost like the wolves are traveling with her. They even help her escape – the wolf howl giving the signal – from harrenhal. And it’s possible the pack was picking off Roose Bolton’s riders chasing Arya because they were following right behind.

She could hear the sound of her own breath, and the wolves as well, a great pack of them now. They are closer than the one I heard in the godswood, she thought. They are calling to me. - Arya, ACoK

Once, from the crest of a ridge, she spied dark shapes crossing a stream in the valley behind them, and for half a heartbeat she feared that Roose Bolton’s riders were on them, but when she looked again she realized they were only a pack of wolves. She cupped her hands around her mouth and howled down at them, “Ahooooooooo, ahooooooooo.” When the largest of the wolves lifted its head and howled back, the sound made Arya shiver. - Arya ASoS

Nymeria keeps amassing this huge wolf pack and Arya being a strong warg can sense this

She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. - Arya, ASoS

She dreamed of wolves most every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. She was bigger than any of them, stronger, swifter, faster. And her brothers and sisters were with her, many and more of them, fierce and terrible and hers. - Arya, ASoS

In her wolf dreams she was swift and strong, running down her prey with her pack at her heels. - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

The wolf dreams also helps Arya connect to Bran, Jon and Rickon. We see Ghost able to sense the other direwolves and Bran trying to communicate with Jon.

Nymeria is a grey wolf and the stark sigil is a grey wolf on a white background.

“The rain had washed the guard’s blood off her fingers, she wore a sword across her back, wolves were prowling through the dark like lean grey shadows, and Arya Stark was unafraid.” - Arya, ACoK

“Arya had her father’s eyes, the grey eyes of the Starks.” - Reek, ADwD

What’s in a name? I have already mentioned in another post, the symbolism of the names for the direwolves and them being an indication of the future for the Starks. Arya’s direwolf is named Nymeria – a Rhoynish warrior queen who led her people to safety. Something that Arya may well do in the future when the North is under attack from the Others.

More importantly, Nymeria in Dorne changed the customs and rules of house Martell to follow those of Rhoynar and allowed for female rulers. Nymeria herself was the first female leader and was followed by her daughter. Nymeria changed the norm for Dorne and we could see the same happening with Arya Stark in the North.

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Skills and Education

Look with your eyes, Syrio had said, listen with your ears.- Arya, ACoK

Education at Winterfell:

Arya was mainly taught by Septa Mordane and received the same education as Sansa. She would have been taught history and about the Faith by the Septa, she can read and write, and is good with sums. She’s better than Sansa at managing a household. She can ride a horse like a Northman and is an excellent swimmer. She knows some high Valyrian. Besides the Septa, Arya also hangs around Ned Stark when he is teaching the boys. Many of his words of wisdom that she remembers is from when he is teaching the boys. She mingles with her father’s men, the cooks, the stable boys etc.

Kings Landing:

Water Dancing style of swordfighting from Syrio Forel.

Harrenhal:

Being incognito allows Arya to move around like a mouse or the ghost of Harrenhal and observe and learn things. She is privy to Roose Bolton’s war council and listens to them discuss the Northern campaign against the Lannisters. We get the first inkling of the Red Wedding in these chapters between Roose and the Freys.

Arya observes the different people, analyzes their movements and figures out how to approach them.

The night she was caught, the Lannister men had been nameless strangers with faces as alike as their nasal helms, but she’d come to know them all. You had to know who was lazy and who was cruel, who was smart and who was stupid. You had to learn that even though the one they called Shitmouth had the foulest tongue she’d ever heard, he’d give you an extra piece of bread if you asked, while jolly old Chiswyck and soft-spoken Raff would just give you the back of their hand. - Arya, ACoK

And as lords and ladies never notice the little grey mice under their feet, Arya heard all sorts of secrets just by keeping her ears open as she went about her duties. Pretty Pia from the buttery was a slut who was working her way through every knight in the castle. The wife of the gaoler was with child, but the real father was either Ser Alyn Stackspear or a singer Lord Lefford made mock of ghosts at table, but always kept a candle burning by his bed. Ser Dunaver’s squire Jodge could not hold his water when he slept. The cooks despised Ser Harys Swyft and spit in all his food. Once she even overheard Maester Tothmure’s serving girl confiding to her brother about some message that said Joffrey was a bastard and not the rightful king at all. “Lord Tywin told him to burn the letter and never speak such filth again,” the girl whispered. - Arya, ACoK

She aids in the escape of the near hundred Northmen imprisoned in the dungeons and even Roose is impressed enough to make her his cupbearer. And the next time, she conceives of, plans and executes their entire escape all by herself. She plans for the logistics – weapons, transportation, people, travel route, what to wear. She makes sure she is warmly dressed, takes the map from Roose’s chamber, uses her position of cupbearer to manipulate several men, manipulates Gendry into escaping with her, takes down the guard and leads them away. It’s an endeavor that showcases her intelligence, cunning, determination, ability to strategize and lead.

Arya also shows a lot of restraint and keeps her secrets. She doesn’t trust the Glovers or any of the Northmen in Harrenhal - and considering the Red Wedding, it’s a good decision.

Their captors permitted no chatter. A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue. Others never learned at all. - Arya, ACoK

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. - Arya, ACoK

On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty.- Arya, ACoK

Braavos:

Arya’s education here is not limited to killing for the Faceless Men. She is also educated in poisons and languages. She improves on her high Valyrian and is now fluent in Braavosi and other Essosi languages. She learns acting/mummery. Not showing emotions on one’s face, detecting emotions in another person.

“A man does not need to be a wizard to know truth from falsehood, not if he has eyes. You need only learn to read a face. Look at the eyes. The mouth. The muscles here, at the corners of the jaw, and here, where the neck joins the shoulders.” He touched her lightly with two fingers. “Some liars blink. Some stare. Some look away. Some lick their lips. Many cover their mouths just before they tell a lie, as if to hide their deceit. Other signs may be more subtle, but they are always there. A false smile and a true one may look alike, but they are as different as dusk from dawn. Can you tell dusk from dawn?”

Arya nodded, though she was not certain that she could. “Then you can learn to see a lie… and once you do, no secret will be safe from you.” - Arya, AFFC

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People skills

“I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.” - Sansa, ACoK

Arya’s ability to make friends wherever she goes highlights her people skills. And Arya is able to communicate and connect with people from all walks of life.

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. - Sansa, AGoT

She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children., Arya, AGoT

Cat had made friends along the wharves; porters and mummers, ropemakers and sailmenders, taverners, Brewers and bakers and beggars and whores - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

Her girls were nice as well; Blushing Bethany and the Sailor’s Wife, one-eyed Yna who could tell your fortune from a drop of blood, pretty little Lanna, even Assadora, the Ibbenese woman with the mustache. They might not be beautiful, but they were kind to her - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

She’s also loyal to her pack. She doesn’t betray Jon even to her father. She helps free her father’s men. Despite Gendry talking of leaving Lommy or Weasel behind, she refuses. And despite the odds, she tries to help Gendry.

It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that they had Gendry. Even if he was stubborn and stupid, she had to get him out. She wondered if they knew that the queen wanted him. - Arya, ACoK

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Importance of being a Warg/Skinchanger

She was the night wolf, no scraps of skin could frighten her. - Arya, ADwD

Since this is a fantasy series, magic is a big part of the story with a magical existential apocalyptic threat on the horizon. The North is the first bastion facing this threat. Jon and Dany both have magical pets and prophetic dreams. Bran is the 3ER. They are leaders or will become leaders by the end. Arya is a strong warg/skinchanger. Apart from Jon and Bran, she’s the only other Stark to use these abilities so far. As GRRM as indicated, having a direwolf is going to be useful in battle – we are going to be seeing direwolves involved in the battle for Winterfell for example. Arya is able to warg Nymeria from all the way over in Braavos. She skinchanges cats and sees through their eyes, when she is blind. She is deft with a sword, knife and decent with a bow and arrow (she could be better now using her FM senses). She would be an effective fighter to have against the Others and her warging skills could prove useful in battle.

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Succession

I’m not a lady, Arya wanted to tell her, I’m a wolf. - Arya, ASoS

And finally we come to succession. This is the hardest part and entirely speculation and we need the next book to get an inkling of where GRRM is heading towards. I am also basing all of this on Hibberd more or less confirming that King Bran on the Iron Throne is GRRM’s ending.

So of the true born Starks, Arya is pretty much last in line. With the inclusion of Robb’s will, we have 5 Starks left. Bran is the rightful heir to the North. Taking him out of the running, leaves Jon, Rickon, Sansa and Arya. Assuming Jon ends up North of the wall – in his dreams the Old Kings in the North in the crypts reject him, maybe foreshadowing that he doesn’t belong in Winterfell - that leaves Rickon, Sansa and Arya.

As for Sansa, again there is a plot significant reason for why GRRM has put an obstacle in her path, allowing for Arya to jump the queue. Sansa is currently married to Tyrion Lannister, a marriage that cannot be easily annulled (With an enemy regime in KL) or ignored like the show did. Robb Stark has most likely disinherited/removed her from the line of succession and named a legitimized Jon Stark his heir and Lord of Winterfell. If he has the support of the Northern houses who want an experienced, older Stark to lead them, Jon Stark could well be the next KITN over Rickon Stark. I don’t think a 7 year old Rickon would object to Jon in charge. So that makes it Jon Stark, Rickon Stark and Arya Stark.

Does Rickon have to die for Arya to become Wardeness of the North? It’s possible Rickon dies, but it’s also possible he doesn’t. It could be that Rickon does not want to lead the North – by the end of the book, he would be 8 or 9. Of course there’s the argument of a regent doing the job for Rickon until he’s ready. Or, he could just give way to his sister because he wants to. Something similar to Aemon refusing the throne and it passing to his younger brother Aegon.

Or we could have the traditional situation where Rickon becomes lord of Winterfell as next in line, while it’s Arya who is involved in running the day to day affairs. However, that would very much be status quo - with Rickon at WF and Bran down south in KL, it would be men ending up in positions of power everywhere once again, except maybe Dorne. If this happens, then Arya would be a leader of the North, but the Stark line would continue with the male line.

It’s possible Jon Stark as King could change things for the North. Jon treats the spearwives the same as the brothers of the NW, he respects Val’s abilities, he trusts in Alys Karstark. If Rickon refuses the mantle, it could very well be that Jon Stark relinquishes his position to his favorite person ever, Arya Stark, to be the next Wardeness of the North. Thus paving the way for Arya Stark to be the first female leader of the North like her hero Nymeria in Dorne.

It would be fitting for the character who introduced Jon Snow to equal rights for women.

“The Lannisters are proud,” Jon observed. “You’d think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother’s House equal in honor to the king’s.”

“The woman is important too!” Arya protested. - Arya, AGoT

Could King Jon reverse Sansa’s disinheritance after her marriage is annulled when KL is in friendly hands? Sure. But we don’t know how the Sansa/LF/Vale group will react to Jon as KITN and whether they will mount a challenge in Sansa’s name. And if Jon has to choose between Sansa and Arya as to whom he wants in charge of Winterfell, we know who it is he will think is more capable and will always choose.

I do think Winterfell succession will not be as clearcut as many Stark fans are hoping. Too many factions supporting the different Starks. GRRM loves to write about dysfunctional families and the Starks are not anything special in that regard. TWoW will tell us of whether there will be any kind of Stark civil war.

Is Arya too young for all this? I predict that by the time we get to the end of the books, about 5 years would have gone by. At 14, Arya would still need a regent – one of the many lords of the houses in the North. But I think considering her experiences, skillsets, a huge direwolf, Ned Stark’s wisdom and strong connections to the North, she will be an able leader. As GRRM said,

“[Arya is] older than some of the 40-year-olds in the book.” - GRRM

Either way, whether she gets Winterfell or not, Arya will end up as a leader in the North. Either she rules for Rickon and takes care of the day to day responsibilities or she does so in her own right as Lady of Winterfell/Wardeness of the North. She’s not going anywhere or sailing off on a boat. The show’s ending makes absolutely no sense for a character yearning for home in 5 books after going on the nightmare ‘adventure’ from hell. She will be in the North, in Winterfell, being a leader and continuing Ned Stark’s legacy. She will counsel her brothers and build and her people will love her just like they loved her father.

So in conclusion, I think there is enough story, character build up, characterization and set up for Arya to go North and take over as a leader of house Stark to face the threat of the Others along with Bran, Jon, Dany and Tyrion.

#Arya Stark #asoiaf #TWoW speculation

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sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years

Note

I have a Shikamaru request! It’s a bit long winded so dust with me 😊. Shikamaru is assigned to protect reader who is the last of her clan that a lot is not known about. (So he also has the secret mission of finding our more about the clan and their abilities). They end up falling for each-other (of course). And after reader finds out she is pregnant she learns that Shikamaru was meant to learn about her. I’m seeing some angsty fluffy goodness! And hopefully a happy ending. 🥰

Healing You (Shikamaru x Reader)

A/N: Thank you for your request! These long detailed ones are perfect and give me just enough information to give you the perfect story. I skipped the pregnancy part because im not totally comfortable with that...hopefully you still enjoy.

word count: 5500

Shikamaru had been anticipating this mission for a while. The Hokage told him it was of utmost importance to be ready at any time for this clan princess to show up. He was expected to drop all other missions or plans to escort this woman, whoever she was across the country to her homeland deep within Frost country. He wasn’t expecting much, actually he was expecting probably the worst client ever.

For someone to request escort at the drop of a hat like that, someone with enough money to do so as well... Shikamaru could only assume they were an asshole of the highest caliber. Probably some old woman or a spoiled little child, someone he definitely would not get along with for a month long mission just the two of them. He could remember the urgency in Kakashi’s tone when he assigned the mission, the amount of trust behind his words.

Shikamaru walked into the office casually, hands shoved deep in his pants pockets. Kakashi sat there alone at his desk, looking through paperwork and sifting through piles of white sheets, each with different names and faces. He must have thought long and hard about who he was to pick for this mission, the boy concluded.

This was going to be tiresome, he deduced quickly. Another tedious mission.

“Shikamaru, I have an important mission for you,” the man said clearly. “You can look through these files, if you want, but we don’t have any clear information on this one, I’m afraid.” He tossed over a folder full of records. Death receipts, birth certificates, first hand accounts of battles witnessed. He didn’t know what to make of what he was looking at other than a common last name running across the pages.

Hirawa.

“What is this about?” he questioned.

“In about a month's time, possibly longer, possibly shorter, I don’t have an exact date, you will escort Princess Y/N Hirawa, of the hidden Hirawa clan to the Land of Frost.”

“Who’s on my team?”

He shook his head at that question. “No one. This is a solo mission, and I’m entrusting you alone with this. It’s important you keep your mouth shut about all of this until we know it’s safe, for you and the princess.” Safe? Just what kind of mission was this anyway? Obviously it had something to do with this clan, not that he’d ever heard of them. “She has a bounty on her head, quite large at that. But we believe she can become the key to mastering some ninjutsu, particularly medical jutsu.”

“Well, what’s her clan’s kekkei genkai?”

“That’s what we don’t know, and for you to find out. All we know is that there's some dangerous people out there who want this power, and we need to protect her at all costs, you understand,” he stressed, and Shikamaru nodded. This wasn’t that big of a deal, he guessed. Protecting one girl from some rookie bounty hunters, not to mention he was being sent out alone. This was going to be a walk in the park.

The worst part of it all would be putting up with some troublesome girl for an entire month. Making conversation and having to pretend she wasn’t getting on his last nerve. That would tire him the most.

“Rumor has it, she was never able to awaken her ability, so I’m hoping you can help coax it out of her and see what we’re dealing with.”

“Of course. I’ll figure it out.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. You should take the files to look over in your free time, you’ll have lots of it before this mission. I have copies here for myself,” he motioned to another folder on her desk filled to the brim with papers just like the one he was holding. It was strange to have so much information at their fingertips, but not enough to put a description to their kekkei genkai. They must be secretive, similar to how the Uchiha hides their secrets on the stone tablet, or something.

He left the Sixth Hokage’s office and walked away to his home, where he could more closely go over the information in this folder, try to deduce something from all this random information. He would get to the bottom of this, he was a genius after all. Whether he had the help of this woman or not, he would figure it out for the Hokage.

And so, here he stood outside of Kakashi’s office with all his supplies packed in his bag, dressed for a long mission away from home. The princess had arrived. He was to meet her and then immediately they were supposed to leave off to her homeland.

The Anbu officer to his left opened the door, and motioned for him to walk in. So uptight for just a little meeting, was all this security really necessary, he wondered to himself. As he looked into the room, he spotted Kakashi standing along the window behind his desk with a smaller woman at his side, wrapped up in thick robes made of wool, embroidered with thick silver and white yarn.

Admittedly, her clothes looked incredibly expensive. He questioned how she wasn’t sweating bullets with the typical warm weather outside here in Konoha. He was expecting her to turn around, to be this hideous creature.

“Ah, Y/N, it seems your escort has arrived,” Kakashi hummed, placing a soft hand on the woman’s back as she turned around. When he finally got a good look at her face, he was taken aback, nearly enough to throw him off balance. She was decidedly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Wrapped up in those blankets was a young woman, who couldn't be much older than he was, with piercing eyes that immediately cut through his.

Her hair fell just perfectly around her face to frame her features, the soft color suiting her eyes and skin perfectly. Her eyelashes flickered over her eyes a few times as she gazed over at him, and he felt swoon. She had the softest skin he’d ever seen combined with those mesmerizing eyes and the shape of her face which looked like it belonged cradled in his hands.

He felt this inert urge to run in the opposite direction from her, out the room and down the hall, back to home where he could catch his breath. He already knew his cheeks were turning bright red under her stare, and he could tell Kakashi was judging him with those dark eyes of his.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shikamaru Nara,” she hummed, and he felt faint. Even her voice was precious, almost like she was singing. He choked down his breaths, trying to keep his cool the best he could. It was uncharacteristic of him to act this way with a client. He was just her escort, not some pervert. They were going to live together for basically a month, he needed to get a grip on his emotions. “Your Hokage was telling me great things about you.”

“Oh, uh,” he paused, frozen without words to leave his lips, just an empty mind full of her image. He shook his head a bit, eyes now glaring down at the floorboards beneath him. “You too, Princess.”

“Please, just call me Y/N. Princess is just too formal for me,” she told him, waving off the title almost as quickly as it left his mouth. “Kakashi, it was nice getting to know you this morning, I hope to see you and your wonderful village again soon.”

“You’re welcome back whenever you like.”

She rounded the table and approached Shikamaru carefully, eyeing him down as she did so. She took in his appearance and his stance, the emotions she could see radiating off his person from his body language. From the looks of it, he simply appeared flustered and confused. Not exactly the most ideal for the situation at hand, but they would manage. Men usually had a similar reaction when they saw her for the first time, either they were in awe or they were trying to kidnap her.

He nodded in her direction and then to the Hokage before turning around and starting out the door, the girl following closely behind him. He could hear the swishing of her thick robes around her ankles, just barely skimming the floor. He still didn’t know her personality at all, but he wouldn’t mind looking at her once in a while on this trip.

“So, why are you heading to the Land of Frost?” he asked, and she sighed.

“One of the village elders is dying. They believe my kekkei genkai is the only way to reverse the incoming death, and its consequence on my people,” she explained.

“Why doesn’t another one of your clan members do it? Surely the rest of your family lives-”

“There is no one else. I am the last living Hirawa,” she told him simply, and he could sense a bit of ice dripping off her tongue at those words. How could she not be upset recalling the annihilation of her entire clan. “The problem is that I haven’t been able to awaken my kekkei genkai. I’m not sure what they want with a useless Hirawa like me.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about your clan, but calling yourself useless really isn’t-”

“How would you feel, Shikamaru, if you were the only person in the world with the ability to save a human being from their certain death and you couldn’t even activate that gift? You have to understand how that feels for me,” she told him solemnly, her head hung low as she walked toward the gates of the village right beside the boy. People looked at her as she moved through the village, they stared in awe at her clothes and her face and the unique glimmer in her eyes. And she cowered inward, tucking herself into her robes and the fur of her hood even further, away from the prying eyes of this village.

He stayed silent, not really knowing how to respond to what she’d said to him. The sadness and the anger in her tone, deep within her words, was immeasurable. She was in pain, a conflict with herself. He wasn’t going to get into that just yet. They’d only met a few minutes ago.

They left the village together and started on their journey. It was going to be a long month, that’s for sure.

________

It had been a week of walking through the forest already, days of sleeping on the ground beneath the stars, eating rations out of his bag over the fireplace. Originally, he thought this mission would be easy, that she seemed like a normal-ish girl who wouldn’t give him any trouble, but he was wrong.

She was too quiet. It was strange, walking with someone for hours without a single word shared between them. He tried to start up a conversation, and she would reply with one word answers, sometimes if he was lucky, two or three words. She rarely looked at him, choosing to either stare at the ground where she took each step, or up at the stars and the vastness of it all. She was lost in her own mind.

Every night, as they were falling asleep, he could hear her looking over at him, scanning his form for a sign that he was still awake. He would remain still, facing the opposite way on his side, head propped up on his bag. Then, when she thought she was safe, he would hear the sobs run through her weak form. She would shake and quiver, curling in on herself and crying out into the forest for only Shikamaru and the moon to hear.

He felt terrible for her, needless to say. The guilt he felt just from hearing her cries, and knowing her internal struggle was enough to make this trip difficult. His heart hurt for her, as strange as that was to say. Normally, it was easy to remain objective, but with Y/N, it was different. He felt attached. He felt like her problems were also his. It was maddening.

She laid on the ground beside him, the majority of her soup still in her bowl and her water bottle resting at her side. She stared up into the clouds, occasionally, her eyes would slide over to see what he was up to and then she would look back at the sky. “You need to eat. We have a lot of walking until we reach the next town, probably a week’s worth. I can’t carry you if you get too tired,” he told her, pushing her bowl closer to her side.

“You know, Shikamaru, sometimes I wonder why people like you Leaf nin even protect someone like me. What’s the point? I’m useless to you and the enemy,” she muttered hopelessly. He still pushed the soup closer until she sat up and took the bowl into her hands, taking a small sip from the spoon. “I just don’t get it. How can you call me princess when I’m just as normal as the next woman on the street?”

“Listen, I don’t know what anyone else has told you, but that’s a load of bullshit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just because you can’t access your abilities right now doesn’t make you useless. You’re still a person just like everyone else,” he explained, stabbing his spoon into his soup as he found himself getting a little worked up. He couldn’t stand this self-pitying bullshit from her. Yeah, she was sad and all, but she didn’t have to rub it into the wound like this.

She looked surprised at his words.

What did she expect him to say? That she was right and then just abandon her out in the woods? He was beginning to think this girl was just plain stupid.

“It’s just been impossible since the incident to think of anything else. I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she sighed, taking another sip of her now cold soup.

He questioned carefully. “What incident?” He was on a mission after all. To discover her clan secrets and bring them back to the village to study. Even if she was being emotional, he could still gather some intel.

She bit her lip, and looked up to the sky again, blinking back tears from gathering in the corners of her eyes. She took a few deep breaths before explaining herself. “The day my clan was massacred. The day that those people slaughtered my sensei in front of the entire village and then killed my parents.”

He paused, lifting his eyes to look at her. She was crying, as he expected, silent tears dripping from her eyes into her lap. But she was holding strong otherwise, not a falter in her voice or a catch in her breath. She wasn’t even shaking. She was really serious about keeping these emotions private, in the middle of the night where he couldn’t hear or see.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he assured, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine. I should talk about it anyway. I haven’t had a person to talk to in years, you know.” Sitting on her face was the saddest of all smiles, a weak attempt at remaining strong. She wiped at her eyes with her wrist and continued. “I’m not even sure why they wanted us all dead, but it had something to do with the war and my clan’s actions. They were barbaric. They slit the throat of my sensei in town square and we watched her blood drip across town while they carried her head.”

“Oh, damn.”

“I know,” she agreed, “As sick as it is to say, I’m glad they only stabbed my parents with a sword. We used to be royalty, it took them killing an entire army of soldiers to get to the throne room to kill them. I was only a child hiding in the curtains, I had to watch without making a sound. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t even breathe, or they would have killed me too.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s horrific.”

“When they left, it was only me. I had to walk my way to one of the outer villages for help. I was a mess, covered in my parents blood. They’d stolen everything. All the secrets of the clan. I never got the chance to read the sacred texts. I only know from my Sensei the very basics of what we can do.”

He absorbed what she had said, taking in each word. Admittedly, she lived a terrible, horrible life, one to rival Sasuke at that. He asked, “You haven’t been able to retrieve any of the texts, have you?”

“No, unfortunately. That’s why it’s taken me this long to figure out how to unlock my ability. I literally do not know how,” she confessed, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “It feels strange, knowing I have this ultimate healing ability and I can’t even use it to save anyone.”

“Ultimate healing ability?”

“Well, yeah. That’s our kekkei genkai. We can heal basically anything besides death. Blindness, deafness, rotting limbs, in some cases, paralysis. I’m not sure how it works, but that’s what it does. That’s why they want me to come home so desperately. I’m the only one left who can heal her.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he stated bluntly, and she tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“What?”

He reiterated, “You’ll figure out how to use your kekkei genkai. I believe in you. You’re beautiful, smart, and modest, not a fool.”

She found her cheeks begin to heat up at his words, and she leaned back, her eyes catching onto his. “Thank you, Shikamaru. It’s not everyday I get earnest compliments like that.” It was true. Normally, she did get compliments, but not the nice kind. She would often get harrassed on the street by men without brains, or recieve backhanded comments from people of her own village who hated her for what she could not be.

He shook his head, “Well, you should. You’re a strong woman, you just need more faith in yourself. You have almost no self-confidence whatsoever.” He was right about that too. Sad, wasn’t it? “You’re obviously a good person, so be proud of yourself. Not a lot of people could have gone through what you did and still be on the good side to this day.”

“I-” Y/N froze, her eyes growing wide. “Did you hear that?” she asked, her eyes flickering from Shikamaru into the woods. There were voices, soft and quiet voices, but they were still there, hush in the background. He stood up on his feet, and motioned for her to stay down close to the ground.

“Come out, whoever you are.”

And, indeed, a group of men emerged from the forest, at least ten of them. They sauntered up to the pair and the leader smirked. “We’re not here to hurt you, Leaf shinobi. Just hand over the princess and no harm will come to you,” he said, his voice musty and disgusting, like he’d been smoking cigarettes everyday for the past ten years. They knew, clearly, that a leaf shinobi wasn’t just about to abandon their charge and go running for the hills. His request was a joke.

Y/N wasn’t a fighter. She couldn’t help even if she wanted to. She was solely a healer, and even then, her skills were shaky at best. She could only do the most menial and mediocre of work on her patients. Shikamaru was against these men completely alone.

She felt fear creeping up her spine and sending shivers through her body. She barely knew the boy, had only known him for a week or so, but damn, did she like him. He was kind to her, one of the kindest people she’d met in a long time. She wanted him to be safe, to save her and come out on top like the shinobi of the Leaf are supposed to.

He turned around and waved for her to run. “Princess, Imma need you to run. I’ll come find you when it’s safe. Just go.”

She was hesitant to take off, but one stern look from him shot down any thought of staying. The woman gathered up her robes and ran in the opposite direction of the crew and her protector. Immediately after she left, she heard screaming from behind, the shouts of men in pain and men filled with anger. So much yelling. She held her breath, and kept running, running until she could only hear the faint yells of the men. She couldn’t hear Shikamaru. He was far too quiet to have those loud theatrics on the battlefield.

Y/N took cover in the roots of a tree, and just listened, felt what was going on around her. She studied the chakra signatures floating through the air, counting how many men still lived and how many were alive and well. Likewise, she kept close track of Shikamaru’s energy, making sure he was still going.

If he died, she didn’t know what would come of her. Would she be sold off? Murdered? She knew of the unspoken bounty on her head amongst the criminals, and that struck fear in her heart. All she could do was pray for Shikamaru’s survival.

After what seemed like hours but in reality only about 10 minutes, the screams and shouts finally came to a halt. The chakra signatures of most of the men were completely gone, meaning they had died sometime during the battle. Only some remained, and they were weakened severely, probably passed out or bleeding out.

Shikamaru’s alarmed her. It was weak, almost as weak as the rest. She crawled out from under the tree and started back in the direction of the campsite, keeping her head low nearly in a crouch to stay unseen. There was no telling what was happening over there or who was still out here.

When she got to the campsite though, her eyes widened and she nearly screamed. While the rest of the men collapsed on the ground in bloody heaps, Shikamaru lay in the middle of them, bleeding out from a ginormous wound protruding from his side. She fell onto her knees beside his barely breathing form and held her hands over the wound, trying her best to run her chakra through her, but she was weak. Only a faint light emanating from her hands, not enough to come close to saving him.

“Shikamaru? Shikamaru, can you hear me? Please, try to stay awake, okay?” the girl pleaded, resting one of her soft hands on his cheek. He sighed into her touch. It was just as he imagined. Warm and gentle, like the caress of a feather. At least, if he were to die, it would be in the arms of an angel, he decided.

“You need to head back to the Leaf. Tell Kakashi what happened,” he sputtered out, blood leaving his lips and dripping down the sides of his face. “I lived a good life.”

“No, no, no. You are not dying on me. Not happening,” she whispered. She continued to pour her chakra into his wound, not that it was doing anything serious. Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip, trying to keep them from falling, but she couldn’t help it. All these tears plagued her life. Memories that made her cry. All the pressure. All the death. Poor Shikamaru lying here dying after saving her life. “I’m going to save you,” she muttered firmly.

Pressure built up in her chest and she pushed further and further, digging deeper into her chakra reserve. It actually hurt the amount of effort she was putting in. It was exhausting, and after about a minute, she was gasping for breath. “Stop. It’s okay, princess.”

“Dammit, Shikamaru, I told you not to call me princess, “ Y/N shouted, and in that moment, she felt something shift inside her. A well of energy she never knew she had opened up and she felt it being filled not by her own chakra but by the men around her. Her body absorbed every last bit of chakra in their bodies, filling hers completely. When Shikamaru looked up at her, he noticed a slight glow coming from her skin that wasn’t there before.

It seemed she awoke her kekkei genkai.

With all the newfound energy she had, she channelled it into saving Shikamaru. Right in front of her eyes, his wound began to close and blood sunk back into his body. He groaned at the feeling, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. Finally, she had done something great.

And as she watched the last bit of his wound shut and the blood to seep back into his body, she found herself grow lightheaded.

As she was passing out, she heard him calling her name, and the only thing she could do was smile. She did it. She saved him. Her vision went black and sleep overtook her swiftly.

________

After Y/N saved Shikamaru and awoke her kekkei genkai, the boy gathered up both of their belongings, hoisted them over his shoulder, and then carried her in his arms to the next village. She wasn’t waking up anytime soon, he found that was probably a bad side effect of using the ability. It completely drained her. He just knew he had to move before any of those guys woke back up. He was not ready to fight again.

He enjoyed feeling her in his arms, pressed tightly to his chest with her head lolling side to side. Y/N was sweet and cute, with her little, “don’t call me princess” proclamation before saving him. It seemed she was just as much a princess as everyone thought she was, and a powerful one at that. She basically brought him back from the dead, and he would be grateful for his entire life for what she’d done for him.

The two of them rested for the night in a village inn just a couple miles away before waking up the next morning and setting off with a new bounce in her step toward your homeland where she was sure she could save the village elder now. He watched as the girl walked eagerly in front of him, swinging her robes by her sides and letting her hair loose instead of a tight braid.

This side of her, it was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. Maybe, he found himself harboring just a tiny crush on the girl who saved his life, the girl who took his breath away when they first met. Maybe he liked her a lot. It was pointless to have such feelings for a girl he would probably never meet again after dropping her off in her homeland.

But he could enjoy his time now, with the girl of his dreams at his side.

He found himself wanting more time with her. Much more time. He knew they only had about a week before they arrived in the Land of Frost, and it was depressing him. He wanted her to come back to the village with him and live there, just so he could see her face everyday and hear that sing-song voice run off her tongue.

Was that so much to ask for? Well, yes, but he still wanted it…

They found themselves stopped for the night or two in a village on the coast. She was tired from all the walking and sleeping in the grass. She was willing to spend a few dollars to have a nice bed to sleep in for the night. She booked a room at one of the inns in town and collapsed into the mattress in the room, throwing her robes to the side and cuddling into the comforter. It had been so long since she was living in such comfortable conditions.

He took a seat beside her and pulled out a book, flipping to the most recent page and diving in. He was more than happy to finally rest. He was lazier than she was, after all. They had been walking for almost a month now, he was tired of it. The only thing that kept him going was seeing her smile every now and then, especially the ones directed at him, or in response to something he said.

Something about those smiles just made him feel good inside. It was sickening. These mushy, gushy feelings he was having. He was beginning to think he might be falling for the girl, like, falling in love. He was disturbed. Was he really that weak to a pretty face, soft hands, and a warm heart?

“Shikamaru?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll be home in a week, and you’ll have to go back to the Leaf Village,” she said. He nodded. At that point, they would go their separate ways and it would all be over, this friendship they had. He’d never felt so torn about a mission until now.

He replied casually, “Yeah. Time flies, huh?”

She held her breath for a moment, thinking over her next words very carefully. She’d actually been pondering when she was gonna tell him over the last few days, thinking over every way the scenario could play out. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to leave you, Shikamaru,” she confessed, finally letting go of the breath she was holding.

He raised a brow, setting down his book and turning to face her. “What do you mean?”

“Well...it’s just that your Hokage seems to really like me, and I don’t really have a home anymore with my clan gone,” she mumbled, twiddling her fingers in her lap. “I was thinking maybe after I heal the elders and the village that I could go home with you instead. Live in the leaf village.”

He just looked at her. Had all his longing been for nothing? Could she really mean it? Coming home with him? Could his future really involve seeing her every day, introducing her to his best friends, and healing his people when they were injured?

“I mean, if you don’t think it’s a good idea, though, I totally get it-”

“No! I-I love that idea, actually.”

“Really?”

“Would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”

He watched as her lips curled into a bright smile and she clasped her hands together. “Shikamaru, I’m so happy. You and the other Leaf nin are the only people to show me any kindness in a long time. I get to go home to people that will care about me.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty good at that back in the Leaf. Caring, that is.”

She fell back against the bed and sighed, curling up in the sheets once again. He watched as she smiled into the covers and closed her eyes, relishing in this feeling of newfound freedom and happiness, of the hope she found in him and the village. Despite finding women troublesome most of the time, he was willing to go through trouble for her. He felt like he’d do just about anything for this girl.

So unlike him. Tch. Get a grip, Shika.

Her next words had him melting like putty in her hands though. He just couldn’t help it.

"I'm glad you were assigned this mission with me. You helped me awaken my abilities, and I think it was fate that brought us together for that to happen," she sighed. "This meeting, you and I, it was always meant to be. I'm sure of it now."

"Maybe you're right. I wouldn't know," he replied.

It was quiet for a while, just her lost in her own dreams, her own thoughts. Her eyes trailed over to him, and she just knew she was swoon. With his lazy grin and his thoughtful gaze. It was so obvious to her now.

She confessed, “I think I like you. As more than just a friend, Shikamaru. I know I probably shouldn’t be telling you this considering I still need you to escort me to the village and all, and you might not want me to go back to the Leaf with you now, but I just-”

He couldn’t wait anymore. He was going crazy. Finally, he kissed her.

She felt his hands resting on either side of her head and his lips pressed carefully to hers, testing the waters. She brought her own hands up to cup his own, bringing him closer and deeper into the kiss. She smiled and sighed, enjoying the feeling of pure bliss. It had been so long since she felt something so good. Something so sweet.

“You like me too?”

“You’re dumb as hell.”

And he kissed her again. And again. And maybe a couple more times after that.

#shikamaru x reader #naruto x reader #shikamaru x you #naruto #shikamaru nara #shikamaru imagine #shikamaru one shot #naruto one shot #naruto imagine #imagine #x reader #oneshot #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #shikamaru x y/n

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youngster-monster · 3 years

Text

shallow grave

Archmage Kael’thas Sunstrider comes back home to a kingdom in ruin, a city in flames, and a father whose body has not yet finished cooling on the cold dry earth. The sky is choked with smoke and ashes; the streets run red with blood. His people need him — his people need better than him — and if he’s all that they have, then he’ll have to be enough.

He allows himself a day and a night to grieve, to bury his father and water his grave with his tears. Then, in the hours before dawn breaks on that second day, while his people do the same — while they bury their dead and mourn all that they’ve lost — Kael’thas lays down his grief and goes to the Sunwell.

The font of magic, like its city, like its people, was broken and tainted at the hand of the Scourge. The air echoes with a sound like the distant howling wind, but it sits heavy and still around him. Once it rang like a struck chord with the arcane energy swirling within.

This, nearly more than the bodies still lying in the streets, tells Kael’thas that they are dying.

His people need magic to thrive. They need magic to survive. Arthas has cleaved through the city to reach the heart of their power, but it’s no surprise that he wouldn’t bother to destroy them the way he has destroyed Lordaeron. What is left of them, without the Sunwell? What more does he need to do than sit and wait for them to succumb to the hunger that Kael’thas can already feel clawing at his heart?

Their survival isn’t a given anymore. It’s a question.

And what remains of the Sunwell offers an answer.

It is alive, Kael’thas finds, though he’s always expected that much. It is alive enough to be in pain, as its body is the sin’dorei’s body and their suffering is its suffering. Soon, it will die, and there will be nothing left to soothe the pain of their people.

But in these last moments, the Sunwell does not look for a way to ease its own anguish. It doesn’t fear its own end; for really what end can there be, for the mindless soul of a people, that shall live as long as they live and die alongside them? But it fears that they might never be avenged. They have been baptized anew in blood; now it would have them drown their enemies in it.

Magic, like its practitioners, holds grudges. It is a language of debt, spoken only through what you draw from it and what it takes from you. And there’s nothing quite so daunting as a debt never paid back in full.

Kael’thas hears this — the rage, wordless and unending, of a being that only exists as an instrument to a people’s collective will. Something in him answers.

This anger that finds its echo inside of Kael’thas is a pyre, he thinks, and it shall consume him if he lets it.

(His name means phoenix, in their language. He can no more fear the flames than the Sunwell can fear death. It is not in his nature.)

Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider walks into the throneroom changed, though the people gathered would be hard-pressed to say how. Perhaps it is in his eyes, the barely noticeable flicker in their golden light.

The Sunwell is gone. Long live the Sun Prince.

Still, no one speaks of it. They may not know what has transpired, but there is an instinctual recognition of the Sunwell buried deep in them. Like a compass points true to the north, they recognize this magic without knowing it.

He can feel it as well, like another heart within himself. The pulse, alien as it is, chills and comforts him in equal measure. He is both more and less than what he was before stepping into the Sunwell. Maybe he isn’t even the same person at all; something different, rather than exalted or diminished by the change.

“We will march in a week’s time,” he tells the new Ranger-General, Lor’themar Theron.

The man looks weary. The mantle is heavy on his shoulders, for all that he wears it well. Already he looks Kael’thas in the eyes when he speaks, and refuses to flinch at what he sees there.

“With what army, my lord? Over half our forces are dead; those who still live are exhausted, or stationed too far from the city to reach us before we depart.”

“You worry about the living, Lor’themar, and I will worry about the dead.”

The Sunwell was tainted by the Scourge when it sunk into Kael’thas; he can feel that as well. But Kael’thas is not a Well of magic that feeds an entire kingdom.

He is but a man, and a man may be touched by necromancy and survive in a way a Well cannot.

A man can be a necromancer.

And Kael’thas intends to be one. He intends to be the best necromancer there ever was, actually, because when has he ever settled for anything less?

When he walks through the streets, people hush and step aside. They see that he is grieving, and the world knows what happens when the Sunstriders grieve.

Dath’Remar founded a kingdom over this grief — for a time past, for magic that he could not bear to be parted from. Kael’thas has lost so much more; his retribution will match the scale of his grief.

He walks until the ground underneath his feet has gone black with ashes and graveyard dirt; until the stench of rot chokes him; until he can walk no more for all the bodies still not buried, and the few still walking that threaten to take notice of him. They could tear through him in seconds, alone as he is, still strong from their master’s passage.

That’s fine. He won’t be alone for long.

He knows his people by the shape of the space left empty by their absence. The awareness is unnatural — no, not unnatural. It’s foreign to him; not meant for a body like his own. Not meant to be embodied at all. It’s like an itch under his skin, a calling that he can’t quite hear.

When he reaches for it, something reaches back.

It feels rather like fire, where he would have expected ice. It stands to reason that his magic would not suffer the cold, no matter how necromantic the source. If anyone were to raise the dead with the very fire that would see them cremated, likely as not it would be him.

The flames race across the ground, seeking their brethren: the fires that used to burn in the heart of dead sin’dorei. Once found, the embers are rekindled by the deadfire; light blazes in empty eyes, and what few bodies were left behind by Arthas rise to their feet. Fire can be seen through the gaps in flesh, beneath exposed ribs, like a coal engine fueling the precious machine of their reanimated body.

The ghouls shy away from them, hissing at the light they cast. The burning dead pays them no mind, if they have any mind left to pay; they gather themselves into neat ranks to be inspected.

Kael’thas expected it to take more energy, but even the shattered remains of the Sunwell are more magic than any one man should hold; he doesn’t even feel winded. He steps up to one of the risen bodies. A civilian, he thinks; most of them must be, to have been discarded by Arthas. She looks up at him and he sees nothing in her eyes but a reflection of his own resolve.

These he will walk out of the city, to be buried with dignity. They didn’t live a life of battle, and he finds himself reluctant to give them such a restless death. Without the instinctual knowledge of weapons carrying over from their life, he’s not even sure he could make them fight.

But after— he’ll have to find motivated graverobbers, he thinks, and appeal to the noble houses of Silvermoon for authorizations to desecrate family crypts. There are many soldiers buried in the city, and he intends to make use of them all.

Again bodies walk through the streets of Silvermoon, though this time the prince that leads them trails embers in his wake rather than frost. It’s a testament to their grief that few bother to curse him for it; once he’s laid the bodies outside of the city, away from the ghouls that would devour them before they can be buried, his people come to him with questions on their lips but little blame.

Though it might be because they are too shocked for outrage to take root.

“How?” Lor’themar asks, helpless, as they watch the last of the dead lay down at the end of a row of their kind and go back to their eternal sleep.

“It is my duty to keep this kingdom safe,” he replies, which is not much of an answer at all. “And, this failing, to see it avenged.”

It doesn’t feel wrong, that playing with the natural order of things, though he expects Arthas had a remarkably similar train of thought before laying waste to the city of his birth. It feels as natural as all other magic Kael’thas has ever wielded. It will take care to keep it from getting out of hand; this is the kind of power that corrupts absolutely.

Unlike Arthas, this magic does not come from a place of corruption; it is born of the sin’dorei and for them, and draws its power from the seven thousand years of memories and magic that made up the Sunwell. As long as he holds on to that impulse of protection rather than destruction, he thinks he can make it.

Maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel any different than other spells. Because it fits him, that burning desire to keep what belongs to him safe, to the point that he’d bend the laws of nature to do it. Maybe it wasn’t so much a transformation as an evolution; a rebirth into something not so much changed as made better suited to its task.

“You’re different,” Rommath notes nonetheless, though it doesn’t sound accusing.

In the absence of the Convocation of Silvermoon, Kael’thas brought his demand for bodies directly to the noble houses. Most have agreed, animated by the same desire to see their enemies brought down, never to hurt them again, no matter the cost. He’s making rounds through their cemeteries now, watching every undertaker in the city and any abled person willing to take up a shovel digging up caskets and carrying shrouded bodies to the outskirts of Silvermoon where their troops are gathering. They’ll have to be quick. Work with corpses requires speed as hygiene can hardly be guaranteed.

It’s lucky that they’ve somewhat lost the tradition to cremate their dead. Many still do; and they are safe from his sacrilege now, though all sin’dorei soldiers are sworn to protect the kingdom any way they might, in life and beyond. Commoners have been coming to offer their own dead to his cause. He would not ask that of his subjects; but they understand the need for desperate measures.

What good is a full grave to the living?

“Am I really?” He asks idly, crossing names off his list. The Brightwalker crypt has been emptied already; their matriarch watches over the process herself, red-eyed but strong in the face of her youngest son’s body being brought out and covered by a veil for transport. “Besides the obvious.”

Rommath tilts his head, considering this. “Not by much, I suppose.”

“Is it a good difference?”

“That, only time will tell. But it’s a necessary one; that much I believe.”

Of course Rommath would understand. They are, in the end, creatures of pride, and pride begets duty. Good has nothing to do with it.

They march out of Silvermoon with a force diminished from the invasion of Quel’thalas — but still thousands strong, and twice what they might have been able to gather if not for Kael’thas’ foray into graverobbing. Grave-borrowing? He’s regent, now, would be king if he had bothered to get crowned. He has a right to conscript a few bodies, he thinks, if he promises to give them back after.

Arthas leaves a clear trail to follow, and they do. The dead can march forever, if need be; the living are not so impervious to fatigue, but desperation pushes them forward nearly as efficiently as Kael’thas’ magical control would.

He rides at the front, half a mind on the control of the army of undead at his back and the other half on the army of undead they’re marching towards.

They plan to cut Arthas’ path in Northrend; they meet the Forsaken on their way north, which is a surprise for both parties.

An arrow nearly takes Kael’thas’ head clean off his shoulders. It combusts in flight and disintegrates to ashes before reaching him, caught by a mage more attentive than he is. The next volley meets the same fate, and is quickly followed by the soldiers shifting formation — Lor’themar’s cry of protect the prince answered by hundreds of clanking armor.

Looking up, Kael’thas sees them coming from the trees like wraiths; dark figures, alight with death magic, but walking with a confidence that the shambling masses that Arthas controls simply lack. He holds his counter-attack, for now, though their approach makes his entire body shake with a kind of aimless bloodthirst. The Sunwell remembers what has hurt it; it does not forget hate nor fear easily.

When it becomes clear that the undead will neither attack nor come forward, Kael’thas rides out of the protective circle of his men, heedless of Lor’themar’s complaints. He recognizes Sylvanas soon enough. She’s a difficult woman to forget, even looking for all the world like she’s just clawed out of her grave.

“Ranger-General Windrunner,” he greets, as pleasantly as he can muster. He’s had a hard time sounding pleasant, lately. “I’m afraid I’ve given away your job.”

Her glare is a fierce thing, and her hand flexes around her bow like she’s considering striking him down anyway. “Prince Kael’thas. You’re alive.”

“No need to sound so disappointed.”

Ignoring him, she casts a look at the troops at his back. He can imagine what she sees: the strange glow of the reanimated soldiers, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the living in an uneasy, desperate show of force.

“Your soldiers are not.”

“Indeed they aren’t.”

Her sharp eyes come back to him, assessing. “Have you gone and pledged yourself to the Scourge, then, since you could not beat it?”

Her tone suggests he would not leave this place alive, if that were the case. But her assumption is only met with a flash of rage; Kael’thas’ grip over his reins goes white-knuckled, and he has to breathe shallowly through his nose before he speaks again.

“I would have Arthas dead by my hand, if I can; the Sunwell concurred, and gave me the means to achieve this goal.”

It is a remarkably reserved way to summarize events. Yet Sylvanas looks as if he had struck her, eyes widening as she takes in the force behind him once again, quickly.

“Ana’band tur, anu dor’ishura belore.” You speak, and we should hear the sun. Once a ritual phrase meant to show respect to the king or queen of Quel’thalas; now a literal truth.

He tilts his head to the side in acknowledgement. “So it is.”

As expected from the fierce ranger, she takes that information with suspicion rather than relief. She squares her shoulders and asks, walking the fine line between curiosity and suspicion, “What makes you different from the Scourge?”

“I do not claim to resurrect anyone.” At her disbelief, he gestures at the army at his back. The corpses are still in a way the Scourge, ever shifting like one giant creature of hunger, could never manage. “They are all animated, by magic and the lingering will of their soul to protect their land — puppets rather than slaves, I suppose.”

When one lives hundreds of years, their soul leaves an imprint on the body that is hardly scrubbed by death. Even when only skeletons remain of the people they once were, the bones remember what it was to love Quel’thalas — and to die for it. They are ready to do it again, if they must.

Sylvanas observes him silently. Gauging him, though what she hopes or expects to find here he doesn’t know.

“Will you join us?” he asks, once it becomes clear she will not speak again.

“We have taken Lordaeron for our own — as free, independent people. I cannot fight your war, prince.”

Death changes them all, no matter which side of it they are on. If she considers herself more undead than she is elven, then so be it.

“Then will you fight with us?”

Sylvanas Windrunner has never turned down a fight. Especially not against the Scourge.

Northrend is a cold, barren place, but Kael’thas’ army burns bright as if it is carrying its own sunlight, stowed away in the gaps between their bones. It keeps them warm when the howling blizzard would tear the flesh right off their skeleton.

It is only a worry for those of them who still have flesh to lose, which is a majority by not quite as much of a comfortable margin as they may like.

Kael’thas makes them march on until they can’t take another step, and then a few miles more, until the snow and the storm-grey sky have become one uninterrupted expense of darkness and they have no choice but to put up tents and fires. His men suffer through because they, too, can feel the end coming. They are running out of time. Soon fate will decide whether Arthas lives or dies, and Kael’thas intends to wrestle the decision from its hands.

The dead among their ranks light the way in the dark, they keep frostbite and hypothermia away, they keep their kin safe. That is what they were made for.

The fire set to an arrow and the fire of the hearth come from the same ember.

And through it all Kael’thas keeps a tight hold over the magic that animates them. It grows in him, like a fire kept well-stoked by rage, rekindled whenever it falters by the sight of yet another body puppeteered by Arthas.

Every forward party, every cohort of undead they cross paths with, they dispatch with immense prejudice. And once the dead have been killed again, they sort through the wreckage and pull the sin’dorei from their hard-won rest.

Fight for me, Kael’thas whispers, breathing fire into the furnace of their chest. Fight for your people, so that they may one day rest as you do.

There is nothing left of the person they once were in these restless dead — sometimes very little of their body even — but that small kernel of devotion to their kin, that banked ember that he coaxes back into a blaze.

Their numbers keep growing as they pick the Scourge apart, little by little. It makes them easier to spot; good. Let Arthas come track them down. Let him face the people he sought to destroy, and be destroyed in return.

Someone else takes notice of them — this glowing army of half dead men that burns through Northrend on its way to the Frozen Throne.

The demon hunter descends upon them, armed and unafraid, as if he might fight them all single-handedly if given the chance. But he keeps his hands at his side as he asks which master they serve, with a kind of foolish hope that they may not fight him.

“We serve the crown of Quel’thalas,” Lor’themar says, bright and sure in his role of Ranger-General, shielding Kael’thas behind his greater bulk. “Who are you? Who do you serve? Who do you fight?”

Illidan Stormrage serves no one, he claims, but himself; but he fights the Scourge, and the man at its head who would summon Archimonde to their world, and little matters more in an alliance than shared hatred for the Scourge nowadays.

Kael’thas steps past Lor’themar, crosses the barren space between his army and the lonely figure of the Betrayer, stands toe-to-toe with him and asks, “Will you fight with us?”

And Illidan — anger burning in face instead of eyes, a grief too large for even he to carry — a man who has only ever had himself to fight for, and to fight with—

This man looks back at Kael’thas’ smaller form, at the burning army of the dead that follows him, at the suffering of a people hounding his steps. He looks at the dark resolve in his golden eyes and the stubborn set of his shoulders as he prepares to fight — he’s always prepared to fight — and sees himself, younger and fairer but just as hungry. Just as desperate.

Victory or death, he whispers, quiet around a mouthful of teeth and blood, taking Kael’thas’ hand.

Sometimes both, Kael’thas replies, only half in jest, and shakes it.

These are three armies alike in desperation, taken to the limit of their force, unified in singular hatred of the force marching to the Frozen Throne.

It’s their edge, in a cruel way. No one could expect them to reach Arthas in time to cut him off; no one but themselves, pushing themselves to cross the continent in half the time it ought to take, the dead carrying the living when their mortal bodies fail.

They’re sharp, the three of them, all too clever for their own good, each ruthless in their own way. Each foolish in the same way. Sylvanas would have their men die to reach the battle one day sooner; Illidan would die himself for a chance at slowing Arthas down; Kael’thas would burn this continent to the ground and fall with it, if it meant ridding the world of its curse for good.

They balance each other out, somewhat, or rather keep each other contained by virtue of their sharp edges, like brawlers stuck in a fighting ring made up of the drawn blades of the audience. Stray too far from the plan, and you bleed. It’s as simple as that.

As a long-term alliance, calling it flimsy would be an abject overestimation. But here, in Northrend, with their time quickly running out, it’s as solid as steel to Kael’thas.

“You are fascinating,” Illidan says, watching the way golden light plays across Kael’thas’ skin as he weaves the spell over his troops stronger, makes sure they keep moving, keep burning, and never run out of fuel. The Sunwell is not an endless source; but it will hold until the end. That much he knows.

“I don’t think I am,” he replies easily, though that’s a lie. He knows himself to be one of a kind; but he’s been raised properly, and it’s impolite to brag.

Illidan doesn’t buy it for one second. “You are,” he insists, holding a strand of Kael’thas’ hair between two claws. It emits a faint glow, like heated metal, that might go unnoticed if not for the color it casts over Illidan’s darker skin. Like holding sunset in his palm. “All the power of a well of magic, held within one man— It’s not so much a surprise you can raise the dead, when one thinks about all the other things you might do with such magic at your disposal.”

Slowly, so Illidan might clue in before he makes a remark of it, Kael’thas lifts his eyes up and quirks up an inquisitive eyebrow at the piece of his hair that the other man is currently manipulating. He flushes, dark against his nightshade skin, and drops it as if it burned.

Pity; Kael’thas did not mind the touch, only found it amusing that Illidan would give it so freely. But the man might not have noticed himself doing it. Out of habit, perhaps, of being more free with his affection among other demon hunters; or because he, like many of the magic-infused elves, finds himself drawn to Kael’thas for reasons he could not put into words if pressed upon it.

Pushing the offending strand of hair behind his ear, he casts a glance across their assembled troops again. His men mill about, as comfortable among the Forsaken and Illidari as among their own. Only the dead stand still, puppets without a purpose yet. He longs to put them to rest. It aches to see them denied their rightful afterlife.

“This power isn’t mine,” he says eventually. “I must give it back, though I do not know — do not wish to know — how I will go around to doing it.”

It surprises him that he’s willing to say that much, to a man so nearly a stranger as Illidan. But it is true: he is running out of time in many more ways than one, and once Arthas is dead and he has brought his brethren back to their graves, he’s afraid of what will be left for him to do.

A phoenix must die to be reborn, after all.

At least he would die for his people; there is honor in that. What would happen if he were to die here, on this frozen hellscape, bears not thinking about.

He will not, cannot, fail.

In the final battle — their last chance before Arthas ascends to the Frozen Throne and crowns himself Lich King — Kael’thas thinks he may die.

His blood is hot on his skin, the stench of the undead pervasive in the air, and though every one of his men that fall can still fight he’s not sure the same can be said for him. He’s nearing his limits; he’s not sure he’ll notice he has crossed it until it’s too late.

Kael’thas wants to scream as he struggles to wrestle the control of sin’dorei from Arthas’ grasp, to cut the strings that tie their spirits to this world and burn the Lich King’s mark from them until only the piece of sun inside of them remains. Give me back my people. Let my kin come home. Let me bury them properly, and never disturb their rest again.

The wind whips his hair around his face as the battle rages, and each arc from his sword draws blood, too thick with decay and frost to splatter over him. All the blood on his skin is his alone; or his kin’s, but that is very nearly the same thing.

But he’ll make it through; he has to. For his people, for his father, for all the bodies held together by magic and prayer fighting around him.

When he reaches Arthas, the world falls to a standstill.

He’d like to gloat; he’d like to rage. But words fail him. Felo’melorn in his hands, the ghost of the sin’dorei at his back, it does not matter. Actions speak louder than words.

Whatever his sword says for him, Arthas gives his answer in blood.

#writing #world of warcraft #kael'thas sunstrider #illidan stormrage #necromancer kael'thas

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longsightmyth · 3 years

Text

Cut for long excerpt

I untied the ribbon, and I ran a hand down the creamy leather and, with a held breath, opened it. I knew his writing, with its long tails and flowing curves. So easy to read.

I read as the lamps burned, and as Bee watched me, and as Callie waited, for servants must learn to wait, it being their duty to do so whatever their personal wishes might be.

Tara has risked much and never faltered in her duty. She has seen awful things. She has blood on her hands. She is scarred by the wars.

He did not mean only physical scars.

I will protect Tara always, however I can. What happened on the ice does not matter. The child will be my child. I will protect her no matter the cost. I have promised Tara that, and even if I had not, it would make no difference, for my little cat is my sweet daughter, the delight of my life. How I wish I had known far earlier how one can lose one’s heart to something so precious.

My tears fell on ink long since dry. He had written this so many years ago.

Tara lost one arm to cannon fire, and the other is crippled such that she cannot really care for the baby. She makes light of it in front of others—soldiers’ humor—but I am the one who holds her at night when she screams, reliving the battles in her dreams. I am the one who reassures her that the child will love her for the courageous and beautiful woman she is, not for her two arms or her two eyes.

Blessed Tanit, do not let my heart break.

That ass Jonatan came to me with a disgusting proposition, which I absolutely will not countenance. Giving up my girl for his, as if mine were worth nothing, which I am sure she is to him. I protested. I offered ways to bargain with the magisters. I even offered to steal the cursed documents back. He threatened me in that unctuous way he has. Said the family would turn us out if I don’t cooperate. “Is some other man’s bastard worth this to you?” he asked me. So despite Tara’s condition, despite the health and vigor she has regained simply by remaining in one stable place for so long, we must leave. It is a mercy that Camjiata has been captured and his army dissolved. I am not sure where exactly we can find refuge, but at least we can hope to travel there safely.

Only they had not traveled safely. He and my mother had died. It’s just they hadn’t meant to. They had been running away to go make a life elsewhere. With me.

How many times must I repeat myself, I wonder, trying to explain it to people who do not want to hear? She is my daughter even if not of my breeding. What is breeding, after all, except a moment’s release? Isn’t the raising more important? I will cherish my little cat always.

But my heart broke anyway, and Bee put her arms around me, and I wept.

Elliott, Kate. Cold Magic (The Spiritwalker Trilogy Book 1) (pp. 486-487). Orbit. Kindle Edition.

Hurtful

Anyway Tara/Daniel is obviously one of the purest ships and I love them and I’m glad Cat knows her parents loved her more than anything

#myth reads cold magic

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that-was-anticlimactic · 4 years

Text

oKAY BUT AVATAR FROZEN AU (ft. Zukka)

I was listening to Frozen on Broadway in the shower and it literally won’t leave my head y’ALL (sorry this is long, but I didn’t know how to do the read more thing because I suck so if anyone knows how, please lemme know!)

Katara: Elsa

Sokka: Anna

Zuko: Kristoff

Aang: Olaf

Azula: Hans

Druk: Sven

The Trolls Are: Iroh, Toph, Suki and Kyoshi Warriors, Mai, Ty Lee, Jet and the Freedom Fighters, maybe Yue idk yet

(Cabbage Man is Oaken)

Okay, so I know Sokka is the older sibling and Katara has Anna’s trust, but Katara is the last Waterbender in the SWT so

idk I’m still working it out since as soon as I got out of the shower I started typing this, but I think Katara and Sokka were a family ya know with Hakoda and Kya and Katara had her bending but the Fire Nation was still like iffy so they didn’t publicize it

Sokka thought it was SO COOL and always wanted to play with her powers ya know? They probably created Aang together, not sure about that yet anyways

Katara hits Sokka with her powers (ice maybe?) on accident and he’s dying, they go to “the trolls” but what imma call White Lotus and Yue is there or she was but had to give herself to the moon, but the moon spirit saves Sokka, has white strip in his hair like Anna, they wipe his memories of Katara’s bending

Katara is sad and scared and terrified so she shuts herself in her room and will not go penguin sledding or fishing or anything with Sokka and now Sokka is sad

Hakoda and Kya are eventually like Katara needs to learn how to control it or just rid of her powers, let’s go to the NWT and see if there is a good chi blocker or a master for Katara to learn from

they die on the ship, probably Fire Nation

(also, the war is still technically going on but also not? Not as intensely as it was in the show, but like, it’s there)

I’m not sure what to do about the chief stuff, so we’ll ignore that for now

It is Sokka or Katara’s coronation, Sokka is excited because he can leave their palace and Katara is not excited because she still doesn’t know how to bend or control it

Sokka runs into Azula and now let’s talk about the Fire Nation for a second

Ozai is still ruling, Ursa is gone, Zuko was banished and Iroh went with him

Ozai did burn Zuko’s face, probably for the same reason, so Iroh took Zuko and they went to the Earth Kingdom and met up with other people who had been hurt by the Fire Nation and they became a family and Zuko eventually leaves and finds an egg and it’s Druk! They become besties but Zuko leaves kind of for the same reasons as in Zuko Alone

Ozai is pretty pissed at the Water Tribes because they’re thriving or something and wants to rule them so he’s like “Azula, go hit on one of the siblings and make them love you and then marry them and I can- I mean, you can control the SWT and NWT”

and she’s like “dope I shall bring destruction onto their land eventually” because poor girl is getting manipulated:(

So, Azula and Sokka run into each other, Azula is a terrible flirt but so is Sokka and they bond over how terrible they both are at human interaction and Sokka is like “yeah after I turned ten, they never let me leave the castle so I have zero friends”

and Azula is mentally like wait I have no friends too:(... but is like “yeah I feel, I’m only the Fire Nation Princess, but it’s a boys only club, ya know? So no one takes me seriously”

and Sokka is like “you... I like you...” and definitely starts crushing and asks her to do an activity and yada yada yada

someone gets crowned, idk who yet

Azula and Sokka spend more time together and Azula is like “wow he is so starved for affection that if I asked him to marry me he’d probably say yes Father what kind of mission is this this is so easy”

so she tries it out and he’s like “SURE” and they tell Katara and she’s just not having it

“Sokka! The Fire Nation killed our parents!”

“Yeah, five years ago--” (or more, idk timeline yet) “--besides, this would be good treaty-wise and politically, ya know?” (so I guess this means Katara would become chief? Idk how that happens but we’ll figure it out)

and Katara is just “... SOKKA you just met this girl. Also, she’s Fire Nation!”

and he’s like “well you aren’t in charge on me so imma do whatever I want”

and Katara is like ahhhhh and he ends up pulling a glove off and she waterbends and everyone is like hbfvrvunyuibtuy wHAT

and Azula is like “ooh so there really is still a waterbender left in the SWT...”

Katara runs away and accidentally freezes everywhere she goes (for purposes of plot convenience, she goes to the Earth Kingdom without knowing it and freezes that too I guess? She’s pretty powerful, y’all

and Sokka is like “I gotta go after her!”

and Azula is mentally lie death mission, that gets him out of the way “sURE! I’ll stay here:)”

so Sokka goes and runs into Zuko and Druk

“Dragons are better than people, Druk, don’t you think that’s right?”

and he sees Sokka struggling to paddle a boat or something, again, don’t have land and stuff figured out here yet

Sokka basically annoys him into helping him

(and Zuko won’t admit it, but he kinda liked Sokka’s vibe and was like I haven’t spoken to a human person in years is it selfish to want this? He’s not disgusted at my scar...”)

Zuko does not tell Sokka that he is a fire bender, he mentions he used to live in the Fire Nation, though

Katara makes maybe not an elaborate ice castle, but she is like “LET IT GOOOOOOO” when she finds open land and just makes it so pretty and guys imagine Katara in an Inuit-style Elsa dress? Wouldn’t that be the most gorgeous thing??

Maybe she misses home so she remakes her village out of ice, maybe if she’s lonely (because Katara really hates being alone but she’ll do it for the good of her people) she’ll make ice sculptures of people from the village like her mom and dad and Sokka

also ya know what? No, I don’t want Katara to be completely alone. She finds Momo trying to hide from the cold and takes him in so it is Katara and Momo

Sokka and Zuko are riding Druk, but he’s tired so they aren’t super high, and Sokka is explaining what happened to Zuko and Zuko starts laughing because “you planned on marrying someone you just met? From the Fire Nation?”

“You’re from the Fire Nation!”

“yeah, it sucks. Why do you think I left? But seriously? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in three years!” (because I just decided it has been three years of him alone)

and Sokka doesn’t mention that it’s Azula yet because Zuko was already laughing at him but wait Zuko has a really cute and precious laugh--

they talk a bit and Sokka kind of mentions the strip in his hair and how it happened because he got pneumonia as a child and almost died but the moon spirit saved his lifeand Zuko doesn’t know how the frick to respond so he just “... that’s rough, buddy”

Actually, imma take back something I said earlier, they don’t make Aang, her unleashing her powers shakes the earth or water or something and the iceberg pops up and Zuko and Sokka find it and Sokka is like “Imma touch it”

and Zuko goes “wait no don’t touch i-- you touched it” and Aang pops out and is like “HELLO!”

and they’re like who the frick are you?

and Aang is like “I’m the Avatar, Aang”

and Zuko and Sokka just :0

or maybe Katara and Sokka like created him as a kid or like believed he would come back to save them and that kind of like manifested into what happened? Idk but somehow, and maybe more plot convenience, he knows who Katara is, maybe the monks told him she’d be his waterbending master before he got trapped?

“Katara? you’re looking for her? I’m looking for her too! She’s the most powerful waterbender in the world and I need to learn how to waterbend!”

“Woah cool! You should join us!” says Sokka

and Zuko facepalms because “sOKKA again with the people you just met!”

and Sokka is like “I just met you”

“Fair point”

“besides, you guys are some of the first people I’ve talked to in like 5-8 years!”

and Zuko and Aang get kind of quiet because wow now that Sokka mentions in, that’s super true for him, but also true for the both of them... they’re all lonely

so Aang is like “okay let’s find Katara!” and they talk and stuff on the way and Aang mentions being excited to visit the Fire Nation and see Kuzon and all of his airbender friends and Zuko and Sokka just ??? then it hits them that oh boy he’s been in that iceberg for a long time--

so Zuko tells him and Aang is big sad and goes into the Avatar State or something and idk imma come back to this

plus also more friendship bonding happens and more feelings between Zuko and Sokka happen

they eventually reach Katara and they’re all like wow this is gorgeous

and Aang is about to walk in and stuff and Zuko stops him “maybe Sokka should go first? Since she’s his sister?”

Sokka goes into the village, finds the one that looks like their house / hut / palace, sees Katara and they both start crying and hug each other and Katara goes “I’ve missed you so much”

and Sokka is like “why did you leave? Please come back, I’ll help protect you from the Fire Nation! No one will get to you!”

and Katara is like “that’s not what I’m worried about” and her eyes flicker to the white strand in Sokka’s hair. “I don’t know how to control it and I don’t have a teacher and I’m dangerous.”

“I have some friends who can help you find a teacher! Aang and Zuko!”

Aang hears his name so he runs out and is like “Hi, I’m Aang, the avatar, want a hug? You look sad”

and Katara is like this boy is a sweetie and must be protected at all costs so no hug from em because I hurt those I love:(

and then Aang says “The monks told me about you! It was like a hundred years ago, but they told me Katara would be my waterbending teacher! You’re the most powerful waterbender in the world!”

and she laughs and almost believes him but “No, no I can’t control it. What if I hurt people?”

And Aang is like “we can learn together then!”

and Sokka and Katara talk more, Sokka is like “please come back, we’ll protect you from the Fire Nation and help you find a teacher I need you I miss you” and Katara wants to so badly

but she says no

they talk and Sokka mentions that basically everywhere is frozen and Katara is just ???? and Sokka is like “please, you can unfreeze it and people will see you aren’t a threat!”

and Katara flips out, they argue a bit, she hits him in the heart on accident and screams so Zuko and Aang (who left) run out and see Sokka on the ground and Katara hyperventilating and Zuko helps Sokka up and kind of has to hold him up for a couple minutes and he begs Katara to come with them because she’s his baby sister and he’ll protect her and she’s crying and her hand instinctively touches her mother’s necklace and she tells him no and that if they won’t leave, she’ll make them leave and then Aang and Zuko start begging her too because Zuko just met her but he knows that she’ll play a huge role in stopping the war and that she is incredibly powerful (and also she’s so kind when she isn’t accidentally being dangerous, he thinks-- based off of the stories Sokka had told him and the look on her face after she struck Sokka

Sokka says no and Aang and Zuko stand firm beside him so Katara makes a giant sky bison named Appa or something who chases them out of the village and they all end up falling into the freaking cold water and Sokka helps pull Aang and Zuko out since he’s the best swimmer and we love Zuko but he’s kind of a terrible swimmer

and Zuko goes “thank yo-- what’s with your hair?”

“My hair? We just gout out of the ocean, you should see your hair”

And Aang pipes up with “no, your hair is white”

“Wait it’s what? Does it look bad?”

“... no?” - Zuko

Sokka goes “you hesitated you think it’s baddddd”

and Zuko says “no, no, not like that... it’s because your sister struck you, isn’t it?”

and Sokka thinks and realization kind of dawns on him “I never had pneumonia...” and it hits him and he groans “that’s why she stopped playing with me! We need to go back, I need to talk to her--”

and he falls as he tries to get up

Aang and Zuko share a look and are like “yeah, no, you need help or you’ll actually die again”

Zuko suddenly is like “wait? the moon spirit saved you that one time, right? maybe She can do it again! Come on! I have some friends who can help you!”

while all of that is happening, Azula is planning on assassinating Katara and the people of the SWT and visitors from the rest of the world are freezing so she’s like “I guess I’ll go stop her since she must have killed my fiance”

some others go with her and they find where Katara is hiding out and Azula kills Appa:( and faces Katara with her people

Katara easily get the others out of the way and then it’s her and Azula

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Katara says

Azula puts her hands down and says “I don’t want to either. Just come with us, fox the weather, and we can help you”

“Why should I trust you? Your nation has wanted to kill me for years!”

“mmm fair point”

they fight a bit, Katara ends up getting knocked out and they take her back and lock her up

going back to the trio and Druk, they’re going to the little corner of the Earth Kingdom where the White Lotus is and Sokka’s hair is getting progressively more white and he’s getting more cold and Zuko is starting to panic so he says “I’m going to show you something, but you have to promise not to freak out”

so Sokka nods and Aang is chill with it because he doesn’t hate firebenders like the rest of the world

so Zuko creates a fire and holds it close to Sokka who does indeed freak out and crawls to the other side of the dragon

and Aang is like “wow! That’s so pretty! Can you teach me that? I need a firebending teach too! It was going ti be Kuzon but...”

and Zuko goes to Sokka again and says “I didn’t want you to hate me. I’m not evil or anything like Ozai. You’re freezing, please, let me help you warm up.”

and Sokka is silent then says “I trust you” and Zuko kind of pulls him in and wraps his arms around Sokka to warm him up and Aang looks left out so Sokka tells him to join

and all three are like “wow. This is the most human contact I’ve had in years... it’s nice”

somewhere here I think would be a good time for Sokka to ask about Zuko’s scar and so Zuko tells the story and Sokka and Aang are pissed and ready to kill but before Sokka and piece together that Azula is his sister, they arrive

Zuko is like “hello, Zuko here! But you guys probably knew that, or at least Toph will-- oof!” because Toph runs at him and gives him a super hard hug and suddenly the White Lotus is surrounding him and are like “how are you?” “where’ve you been?” “we missed you!” etc, etc

and Zuko is like “haha I missed you guys too but um, I’m actually here for something else... he helps Aang and Sokka off of Druk and Toph immediately feels the change in their heart rates when Zuko helps Sokka and Sokka leans against Zuko so she goes “you got a boyfriend!”

cue matching looks of horror on the two’s faces and suddenly everyone is interrogating both of them and Zuko is like y’all!!! He needs help! Where’s Iroh?

he is ignored:/

“Zuko looks grumpy and he acts grumpy but really he’s a sweetheart and mushy!” says Ty Lee

“make sure you give him lots of hugs and attention because he will not tell you when he wants it” Suki says

and Zuko’s whole face is red and it’s the funniest thing Sokka has seen and he’s so invested in all of these people and their stories and wants to stay forever but then remembers Katara and Zuko finally is like “IROH!”

Iroh comes and sees Sokka and he’s like welcome back

and like at this point Sokka can barely stand and Zuko is supporting all his weight

and Zuko is like “you helped him when he was younger, please help him now!”

and Iroh is sad “there is nothing I can do, nephew. The moon spirit is generous, but to touch the same thing twice... an act of true love is the only way to fix this”

and Zuko gets sad and says “your fiance”

and Sokka kind of mutters “... yeah... my fiance” because now after spending a week minimum a month max with Zuko, Aang, and Druk, he definitely has feelings for Zuko but he’s confused

and everyone else gets sad and Toph is confused because she can feel their heart rates

but Zuko sucks it up and helps Sokka back onto Druk and they set back for the SWT and all Sokka is thinking is for Katara for Katara for Katara for Katara... was she right? Maybe I was too fast with Azula... but we connected and she wanted to talk to me and... for Katara for Katara...

so Katara is locked up and Azula is like “this would have been fine if you did not put up a struggle. If you surrendered peacefully we would not have to resort to this”

and then leaves because she hears that Sokka is back and Katara is like “I’m a monster, but so is Azula and I need to find Sokka and apologize and fix everything I’ve done, even if I die” so she escapes because Katara is cool like that

Zuko and Azula see each other and it’s awkward, but she sees Sokka in his arms and she realizes that he didn’t die and her idiot brother helped him they make eye contact and Zuko can kind of tell what her plan is in her eyes but Azula feigns worry for Sokka and grabs him from Zuko’s arms before he can stop her and Sokka is like “Azula...” and she’s pretending and stuff and then she sees Aang and her eyes widen at his tattoos and Zuko shoves Aang behind him and says “You aren’t taking the avatar to Father. Just save Sokka, he doesn’t have much time left”

her eyes linger on Aang with interest but she turns and leaves and sets Sokka down in a room and Sokka explains it and tries kissing her but she just laughs and is like “oh, if only there was someone out there who loved you” and in his hazy and near death mind, Sokka understands it all because he may be naive, but he’s clever

“You’re Zuko’s sister”

“I am. You really were so trusting and naive to fall in love with the first person you see.”

“I’m sorry”

“What?”

“Zuko told me about your father... I’m sorry he’s manipulating you.”

and Azula shrieks, lights her hands on fire and is just barely able to stop herself from burning him, makes sure the fire in the room dies, mentions killing Katara and Zuko and capturing Aang, then locks Sokka in the room

and Sokka is crying because he should have listened to Katara and he just wants her to be okay and he can barely move, he can’t do anything to protect her from problems he caused and Aang is going to get hurt and he misses Zuko

and Zuko misses Sokka and Aang is like “okay, something’s up”

Zuko tells him about how Azula is his sister and he doesn’t trust her and that he thinks he loves Sokka, or has feelings for him at least

Aang goes “do you think Azula really loves Sokka?”

“... no”

“then we need to turn around. Druk!”

Azula tells everyone Sokka died because of Katara and that they nee to kill her and his last words were marriage vows

the door handle rattles and Aang comes in and Sokka shakes his head and he’s crying and says “you need to get out of here, she’s gonna kill you”

and Aang is shaking his head and saying “no, don’t worry! Zuko is here and he’s on his way! It’s storming really bad outside right now and he’s fighting off some guards, but he came back for you” and Aang helps Sokka up and out of the room but guards see them and Aang stays behind to fight them

Katara stumbled upon Azula as she tries escaping and they start fighting, kind of like the Agni Kai fight and it’s really epic and cool and stuff and then Azula says something like “stop fooling around and wasting everyone’s time. I am now the ruler of the SWT and I am ordering you to stand down!”

and Katara goes “ruler... where is Sokka?”

“Sokka? Oh, he returned weak and cold. His heart was frozen. Your brother is dead because of you”

and Katara falls to her knees and cries and Azula is like “ha weakness time to kill”

and Sokka sees Zuko and he’s “running” to him but then sees Katara and Azula about to kill her and jumps in front of her despite Zuko’s pleas and Sokka is frozen and when Katara looks up and sees what happened, she loses control and freezes Azula like she did in the Agni Kai and the storm dies down and Zuko and Aang run to her and she’s clinging to Sokka and crying and so is Zuko and then sibling love and he comes back

Zuko is like “love. It doesn’t have to be a kiss.”

and they hug and Sokka is back to his normal self except his hair is still white maybe, but he introduces Katara to Zuko and Aang formally and they all hug and then the White Lotus comes and Toph and Suki and Mai and Jet are all sad because they missed the fight but are happy that Sokka’s okay and Azula is still kind of there and idk what they do with her, I’ll come back to that, actually, maybe Azula manages to escape

but so it would end kind of ambiguously because Ozai is still there and the SWT is untrusting of Katara still so they have to flee maybe and they return to the White Lotus hide out and Zuko and Sokka have a moment where they are like “hey I think I like you”

then Sokka and Katara have a great sibling moment

and that’s how it ends

okay wow that was long and took an hour and a half to type but y’all this would NOT leave my head!!!! I feel like this doesn’t have enough Katara in it, so know that if I actually made this a thing, there would be a lot more Katara and more sibling moments and Zuko and Aang and White Lotus and stuff but uhhh yeah idk if this has been done before but it was living in my mind rent free (p.s. Mai and Ty Lee do have a history with Azula in this AU and there would be an Azula redemption at some point)

if anyone has any thoughts or feelings or anything to add, please do:) I wasn’t sure if I should make Sokka or Katara Elsa, but I went with Katara because she had the powers and Zukka happening worked better with Sokka as Anna, idk

#avatar the last airbender #frozen au #sokka #avatar sokka #katara #zuko #aang #toph #suki #iroh #azula #zukka #i want to write this so badly #seriously #i might cave sometime #yallllllllll i love this too much #ywikal #you’re what i know about love

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bakugouscentedcaramel · 5 years

Text

Cereal Killer

What a fuckin monster.... I love it

Bakugou

Genuinely disgusted

The look of disgust he gives you every time he sees it honestly just makes you do it more

Until he can't take it anymore

The moment he sees you reach for a bowl he snatches it and barks at you what cereal you wanted

Pours your cereal himself without breaking eye contact with you

"Here you fucking goblin"

Midoriya

Is in denial every time he sees it happen

Refuses to watch you make cereal

Will turn his back to you and continue the conversation like nothing was happening

Low-key can't stand it but he won't tell you that

This poor sweetheart is at his breaking point when you pour it in a glass

Denki

Shit he does too fam

It low-key becomes a competition to see who can eat cereal in the most ridiculous ways

So far it's been a slow cooker, a PVC pipe, a fish bowl, a Walmart bag, and lest we fucking forget the fridge's ice dispenser

The sheer confusion when you were filling up bowls of milk with the water setting and getting cereal from the ice setting still haunts everyone in the dorms

Hawks

He didn't do it before but you bet your ass he does now

It becomes a competition pt 2

He's got you beat with a contraption that stretched the whole house

It took three hours just for the machine to pour milk in before the cereal

Yes it's impressive

No you can't see the bill

Dabi

Deep inhale

"What. The. Fuck. Do you think you're doing."

Snatches the box from you

"CAPTAIN CRUNCH DIDNT DIE FOR THIS Y/N"

You can't tell if he's trying to be funny or if he's serious

Will legitimately buy a cage with a padlock to keep you out of the cereal

No fucking joke

Iida

Forces you to do it the "proper way"

No joke

You either do it the right way or you're not doing it at all

Little does he know this only makes you want to do more extreme things with cereal

So far the most extreme is him going to the bathroom at 3am to find you in a tub full of milk and Cheerios just staring at him

He woke up everyone in the building with his screeching

Kirishima

Is the only one that isn't fazed by it

Like "Cool, that's a new way to do it"

Precious cinnamon bun, must protect at all costs

Todoroki

Oh boy, are you his dad? Because damn you a monster

He's so confused when you pour cereal in your glass of milk

For once he's actually showing pure confusion on his face

He tries to blink the mirage out of his eyes but it's not working

You really did just do that

He's questioning everything about you now

Why

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #midoriya x reader #kirishima x reader #iida x reader #kaminari x reader #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader

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the-dragons-knight · 3 years

Text

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #14 - The Dragon Queen

<Post-Heavensward MSQ, Post-Dragonsong War, Slight Spoilers ahead>

Commend - ‘to present, mention, or praise as worthy of confidence’

————————————————————

“That sounds like it must have been so scary, but also like an amazing journey,” Maelie smiled up at Katsum as she petted the small dragonet in her arms, “To have visited another world…it sounds so very strange, yet so fascinating!”

Katsum smiled back as she handed Midgardsormr, who sat on her shoulder, another piece of the cookie she had in her hands, “It was quite the adventure, there is no denying that for certain.”

Ever since the day the True Brothers began their attack on Ishgard and took the refugees of the burnings in the Brume as hostages, the same day that Maelie was dropped from the top of the Vault and Katsum jumped after her only for both of them to be saved by Vidofnir, they had been good friends ever since, especially as Maelie began to have a fascination with the Dravanians. And who better to answer any questions she might have than the ‘Queen of Dragons’ herself. Katsum grew fond of the young girl and told her as many stories and tales that she could remember in hopes to share the beauties she’d seen of the world to another who could scarcely even have dreamed of seeing such things not so long ago. Each time she came home to Ishgard from a journey, she would seek out Maelie or the young girl would find her and they would walk the city’s streets as they talked, waving hello to all they passed by and marveling at how bright and cheerful the city had become since the end of its long war. There was still much to be done to make the nation whole again, the progress so far was still so beautiful.

The dragonet in Maelie’s arms purred as it butted its head against her hand, as she scratched its scales, “You’ve seen so many amazing things, Katsum. I would love to see the Churning Mists one day, and the vast and endless seas of water, but I imagine not all things were so beautiful and good…”

Katsum chuckled softly, “You are a smart girl, Maelie. Always have been. Yes, it’s true, but,” She looked at her seriously, “Don’t let that stop you from going to find your adventures. There are far more precious and wonderful things out there to outweigh the bad.”

Maelie nodded, “Right!”

“And next time Vidofnir, you should ask her if she can show you the Mists, I am sure she would be happy to.”

“Really?! Oh yes, I certainly shall! Ah, I’m so excited just thinking about it!”

Katsum laughed at the giddiness of the young girl as it reminded her very much of her younger self which only made her smile more brightly. They soon made their way to the aetheryte plaza in Foundation, still talking and laughing as the snow fell softly around him. Katsum’s feline ear twitched at the sound of a very familiar voice speaking not far away and she turned her sapphire eyes to lock onto the royal blue regalia of the Lord Commander, and a warmth fluttered through her chest as she smiled brighter. Sure, she had seen Aymeric this morning and every morning since they were married, but that didn’t mean her heart ever stopped fluttering when she would see him. As they approached him and Lucia, who was standing behind him, she noticed that he was speaking to a Lalafellan man and young woman, who were both dressed in fine robes and furs of an Ul’dahian fashion. Curiosity swept over her as she and Maelie moved in closer.

“Ah, good morning Lord Aymeric and Lady Lucia,” Katsum mused sweetly as she smiled brightly at them, her tail swaying happily behind her.

Aymeric’s ice blue eyes warmly met hers as he too smiled, “Lady Katsum, there you are good morning. And a good morning to you as well Maelie, Midgardsormr.”

The little dragon just nodded slightly as he continued to munch on his piece of cookie while Maelie nodded her hello.”

The paladin woman turned her head in question a bit, “Were you looking for me? Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all, but I was about to search for you yes. You see—”

“I can explain myself from here, Lord Aymeric, if you’d like,” The Lalafellan man rudely interrupted her beloved as he stepped forward with a grinning smile on his muschasted face, making a sweeping bow before her, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Katsum. My name is Aguda Kesuguda, head of the stock and trade of Kesugu Industries of Ul’dah. Before I begin, I really must commend your undeniable strength and poweress on the battlefield. I’ve heard many tales, and while I have not seen them for myself, they never cease to send my heart aflutter to recall them, yes yes!”

The miqo’te narrowed her eyes slightly as her smile shrunk into a rather small and fake expression of kindness, shifting her posture into a more regal and defensive stance; the posture of a queen. This did not go unnoticed by Maelie as she took a step back and watched cautiously. Aymeric too noticed, yet he didn’t not say anything, only sighed at the interruption and eyed the noble.

“Yes, I believe I’ve heard your name mentioned before in brief passing. ‘Tis a pleasure, yes, yet what is it that you sought me out for?” She knew that pleasantries from a merchant of Ul’dah meant only one thing: they wanted something done for them. She had not the patience or care for such games either.

Aguda grinned and shrugged, “Ah yes, a woman of action, of course. Forgive me, it is but the habit of nobles to win over the other with flattery, but you and yours here I see are far too smart to play in such nonsense.” Katsum just stared at him and he cleared his throat, “…more so than I thought too. Ahem, I came to beseech you aid in a most urgent matter. I have a shipment of resources and supplies I am trying to transport to the warfront, and every time it begins to leave on its journey to Ala Mhigo, it has been attacked by bandits trying to steal its contents! It’s not been anything terribly dangerous of course, but I wondered if I could ask for your assistance in protecting it to its destination. Or rather, one of your dragons.”

The group stilled and Katsum’s eyebrows arched in confusion, “ I beg your pardon? And please do not repeat yourself, it is just an expression of my astonishment.”

The noble nodded, “Of course, of course. My reasoning for such a request is that while I could hire a group of mercenaries to protect the cargo, such beings can be unsavory themselves and cost right much gil you understand. But dragons are loyal and ask for nothing, with just a word from you and they fly to your beck and call. And what better way to show your power as a queen than having one of your subjects deliver rations and supplies to the soldiers and people of a wounded nation, hmm?”

There would have been a time that Katsum would have shouted at this man that he knew nothing of dragons and nothing of her throne, and to leave their city before she threw him out herself, but instead, she remained quiet and listened to his greedy words with that simple expression of thought on her face.

Aguda seemed to take that bait as a sign of winning her over as he continued, “So, what do you think? Could you spare a dragon to help out a poor old merchant deliver his wares to those in need?”

She saw Aymeric narrow his eyes, “Would they not appear to be supplies from Katsum herself then if a Dravanian were to be protecting them rather than from you yourself Lord Aguda?”

Aymeric had already caught on Katsum knew, and luckily he was laying out the road for Katsum to ride down as Aguda answered.

“I suppose they would, but I have little worry for that. As long as they get the resources they are due, yes? Plus, they would be packed in crates bearing my seal so a bit of publicity for everyone, hmm?”

It is a very interesting suggestion, my lord, but first I must ask,” Katsum clasped her hands in front of her as she asked, “Are these provisions truly yours?”

Aguda froze in that moment and her eyes sparkled silently; she had him, “Whatever do you mean by that, my lady?”

Katsum smiled to herself as she feigned a curious and oblivious expression, “Pray, forgive me for causing such upset, but I had heard the most awful rumor of stolen goods and provisions meant for refugees of Ul’dah recently, and even more unsettling takes of the people trying to take them back from the thieves only to be injured and then arrested on false charges. As some of those provisions were ones that Ishgard and Dravania both had traded with Ul’dah for such purposes of aiding those less fortunate, it seemed only right that the Sultana inform me of these most dreadful events. So again…I ask you,” Katsum’s expression narrowed and her eyes almost seemed to glow in her fury, “Are these provisions truly yours? And I would beseech you to speak the truth, good sir, for we shall know if you do not.”

The noble’s jaw dropped as she moved her first piece into the winning square. Indeed, she and Nanamo had been speaking on the subject just a day or so ago and how the Sultana was worried about how restless the people were getting at being wronged so, and Katsum had offered to keep an eye out. It had been her cargo originally anyway, and such fine Dravanian resources should not fall into hands they were not meant for.

Aguda finally got over his shock and glared at her then, “Uh! The audacity of such claims! I came to seek assistance, not to be blamed for such villainy!”

“Nay, you came here for a dragon —for a “free” guard as you said—that would discourage anyone wearing only tattered rags for clothing too afraid to step forward to take back what is rightfully theirs so that you could spread the name of influence into the city of Ala Mhigo, thus earning potential buyers for future trade. it was made plain the moment you spoke of dragons ‘asking for nothing’. Dragons are loyal to their kin and to those they have come to trust, yes, but if you truly believe they are so blind to follow mine or anyone else’s word and ask for nothing in return like a hound, you are far blinder than you believe them to be.” His jaw dropped again, yet she did not wait for him to answer as she pressed further, “Now, if that is all you wished to discuss, I suggest you take your leave of our city and see to the return of those goods to their rightful owners. Unless…you would like me to inform the Sultana of the information I have just come across and let her and the Brass Blades handle it..?”

Aguda’s face paled, and he tried to retain some of his noblistic confidence, “Why you—”

“Father, please!” Finally, the woman behind him spoke and stepped forward to stand in front of him with a deep look of concern on her face, “She offers you a way to fix it yourself, don’t throw it away with your shame of being caught! I told you you mustn’t do something like this and look where you’ve put us now!” His head dropped as the girl turned to Katsum and bowed her head, a look of sadness filling her eyes as she looked up at her, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that he had gone through such lengths as this. Please, forgive us, and I will see to it that the supplies are returned to Ul’dah and given out to the less fortunate personally. Please, my lady.”

Katsum stared at her for a moment, looking her over and her lilac colored garments and grey furs. Her eyes showed sincerity yes, but the eyes can be made to fool anyone who looked into them. She glanced at Midgardsormr, seeing he too was staring at her closely, taking in his assessment. With a breath, Katsum summoned Raihogg’s gaze as the dragon’s eye gem began to glow softly and his voice whispered through her mind.

“Her words are genuine as her heart is broken by her father’s deeds. You may believe her as she indeeds to do just as she says.”

The eye in her necklace fades back to its shining red and blue color as Katsum’s eyes softened and she asked the girl, “What is your name, my lady?”

“Kemoda. Kemoda Kesugada, m-my lady.” Her voice trembled as she answered.

Katsum smiled, “There is no reason to fear, Miss Kemoda. I thank you for your honesty and in your offer to right what has been wronged. In return for the good being returned to their rightful owners, I will only speak of the matter being closed with her Grace, nothing more. No names, no suspects. But I will be checking in to be sure our goods were returned as promised.”

Kemoda nodded furiously, bowing low as she breathed, “Oh thank you, my lady! Thank you! You have my word, I shall fix this right away!”

The miqo’te nodded and the lalafellan woman turned and glared softly at her father amidst her worried expression, “Come father, we have much to work on.” With that, she started on her way towards the gates of Ishgard with a determined step in her stride.

Aguda glanced back at her for a moment before looking up at Katsum again and glaring at her, hoping to get in one final word she guessed.

But Midgardsormr hissed first, “Go now, mortal, while I still allow it.”

The deep voice of the ancient dragon seemed to be enough to send the lalafellan man running after his daughter, any thoughts of sassy retorts dying on the squeak of his shout of terror. Midgardsormr chuckled at this before going back to snacking on his cookie and Katsum took a deep breath and shook her head.

“I will never get used to politics and the games you must play,” She sighed.

“No one ever does I’d imagine,” Aymeric mused, stepping up to. her and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, “But I dare say you are getting better at playing them. Well done, my queen.”

Katsum blushed lightly as her ears fell back shyly, though her warm smile spoke of her happiness, “Not in front of the child, Aymeric, please.”

He chuckled, and they glanced over to both blink in shock at the wondrous look in Maelie’s eyes as she watched them and she hugged the dragonet tight. She blinked as they looked, “Sorry, I don’t mean to stare, you both are just like a fairytale come true. ‘Tis a love I hope I find one day too.”

Katsum blushed again as Aymeric did and they laughed lightly as Katsum nodded, “I never thought I would have it myself, but thank you, Maelie. That is very sweet of you.”

The girl nodded before Lucia stepped forward then, “Regretful as I am to cut this beautiful moment short, there are other matter that require attention, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric sighed and nodded, looking to Katsum as he drew her into a short yet loving kiss, “Thank you for your assistance, Queen of Dragons. I shall be sure to repay your kindness as soon as I can.”

Katsum grinned knowingly, “And I shall look forward to it. Until tonight, be safe, both of you. And farewell.”

The Lord Commander nodded warmly as he reluctantly pulled back from her and turned to follow the First Commander back to Congregation. katsum watched him go before she turned to Maelie with a grin, “Well, shall we continue our walk?”

“Yes! Or course! Oh, I wanted to ask. How did the Dravanians first come to this world? You mentioned they were from another star right?”

“They did indeed. We’ll be happy to tell you.”

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 3 years

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14th March >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on John 3:14-21 for The Fourth Sunday of Lent, Cycle B: ‘God loved the world so much’.

Fourth Sunday of Lent, Cycle B (Laetare Sunday)

Gospel (Except USA)

John 3:14-21

God sent his Son so that through him the world might be saved

Jesus said to Nicodemus:

‘The Son of Man must be lifted up as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him. Yes, God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not be lost but may have eternal life. For God sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world, but so that through him the world might be saved. No one who believes in him will be condemned; but whoever refuses to believe is condemned already, because he has refused to believe in the name of God’s only Son. On these grounds is sentence pronounced: that though the light has come into the world men have shown they prefer darkness to the light because their deeds were evil. And indeed, everybody who does wrong hates the light and avoids it, for fear his actions should be exposed; but the man who lives by the truth comes out into the light, so that it may be plainly seen that what he does is done in God.’

Gospel (USA)

John 3:14–21

God sent his Son so that the world might be saved through him.

Jesus said to Nicodemus: “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the verdict, that the light came into the world, but people preferred darkness to light, because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed. But whoever lives the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God.

Reflections (5)

(i) Fourth Sunday of Lent

My father loved fresh air. The bull wall was one of his favourite places. Like many men of his generation, he was a smoker and, sometimes, his breathing became a struggle. He loved to get out in the open where there was a good wind blowing that could fill his lungs. My mother was much less keen on fresh air, especially of the windy variety. It tended to leave her hair in what she considered a mess. After having experienced an abundance of fresh air at my father’s prompting, she was often heard to say, ‘I’m like the wreck of the Hesperus’. As children we were mystified as to what the ‘wreck of the Hesperus’ was. It was only many years later I discovered it was the name of a rather tragic poem about a shipwreck in a storm by the American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, published in 1842. However, as children, we knew that when our mother came out with this expression it meant that she didn’t like the look of herself. In those moments, Saint Paul’s statement at the end of today’s second reading wouldn’t have cut much ice with her, ‘We are God’s work of art’.

Perhaps, we all find it difficult to really believe that we are God’s work of art. We admire the workmanship of great artists, like Michelangelo, Raphael, Caravaggio, and we recognize their creations as works of art. Many of these great artists were people of faith who were very aware that their ability to create works of art was a gift from God. They understood that God was the supreme artist, and they sensed that they were sharing in God’s creative power. Every new born child is God’s work of art, because they are an image and reflection of God, the supreme artist. In that sense, we are each God’s work of art. Just as a work of art can deteriorate over time and need cleaning and restoration, so, as we go through life, we do not always give full expression to our inner identity as God’s work of art. In that second reading, Saint Paul says that ‘we are God’s work of art, created in Christ Jesus to live the good life’. We don’t always live the good life that does justice to God’s work of art that we are.

Yet, what we do or fail to do does not fundamentally undermine who we are as people made in the image and likeness of the great Artist. Indeed, not only have we been created as human beings in the image of God, but that identity has been enhanced through God’s sending of his Son into the world and our communion with God’s Son through baptism and faith. Jesus was the perfect image and likeness of God. He was God’s greatest work of art. The closer we come to Jesus, the more he lives in and through us, the more we will grow into our true identity as God’s image and likeness, God’s work of art. We could imagine Jesus as the great restorer of God’s work of art, humanity. As Saint Paul says in that second reading, ‘when we were dead through our sins, he (God) brought us to life with Christ’. Through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, God recreates us in his image and likeness, restores our identity as his work of art. Having created us out of love, God recreated us, restored us, out of love. That is the core message of today’s readings. The gospel reading declares that ‘God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son’. God’s renewing love embraces the world, all of humanity who have been made in his image and likeness, and, indeed, all of creation. Paul in the second reading states that God’s ‘goodness towards us in Christ Jesus’ shows ‘how infinitely rich he is in grace’. Paul goes on to remind us that God’s loving initiative towards us through his Son is pure gift; it is not a response to anything we have done, as if we had to build up credit with God first.

We are all aware of the good we have failed to do and the wrong we have done. As a result, we can be prone to condemning ourselves, and others can look in judgement upon us. Yet, God is not primarily in the business of condemning. In the words of the gospel reading, ‘God sent his Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but so that through him, the world might be saved’, might have life and have it to the full. The eyes of love always see goodness and beauty in the beloved even though he or she may leave a lot to be desired. Those we love deeply remain works of art to us, even though our shared journey may have had many ups and downs. God’s love for us, revealed in his Son, is infinitely greater than any human love. God continues to see us as his works of art, even though our lives may be tainted by sin. He continually gives us the gift of his Son and of the Holy Spirit so that can grow into that work of art more fully. All God of asks of us is that we keep opening our hearts to that gift of his Son, that we keep coming out into the light, in the words of today’s gospel reading.

And/Or

(ii) Fourth Sunday of Lent

A painting hung for many years on the wall of a dinning room in the Jesuit house on Lesson Street. No one paid much attention to it until one day someone with a keen eye spotted it and realized that this could be something of great value. He had it further investigated by art experts, and it turned out that this painting was the work of no less a person than the great Italian artist Caravaggio. The painting of the arrest of Jesus in the garden now hangs in the National Art Gallery, and it is one of the Gallery’s great treasures. All those years it hung in the dining room of Lesson Street it was no less a treasure, but its worth, its value, went unrecognized. It hung there waiting to be discovered, waiting for someone to recognize its true worth, its true value as a work of art.

In the second reading this morning, Paul states that ‘we are God’s work of art, created in Christ Jesus to live the good life’. Like the painting in Lesson Street, we can go unnoticed as a work of art, especially to ourselves. We don’t tend to think of ourselves as a work of art. Yet, as Paul reminds us in our second reading, God sees us as works of art. Like the person who spotted the painting in Lesson Street, God knows our true worth, our true value. As God said through the prophet Isaiah, ‘You are precious in my sight, and I love you’. We are as works of art to him, of great worth and value, precious in his sight.

We can probably think of people in our own lives that are as works of art to us. These are people we value greatly, people we treasure, whose worth to us is beyond price. Today is Mother’s day, and most of us think of our mothers in that way, whether they are still living or are with the Lord. When someone is a treasure to us, we don’t count the cost in their regard. We will do anything we can for them. We will travel long distances to see them; we will stay up half the night to be with them if they are ill; we will defend and protect them with all our passion when necessary. We keep faith in them; we are faithful to them, even when that makes great demands on us. How we relate to those we value and treasure is not determined so much by how they relate to us. Even if they do something that annoys us, we tend to make all kinds of allowances for them. We say something like, ‘that’s just the way he is, she is’. Their worth in our eyes, their value to us, is rooted in something deeper than what they do or fail to do. We value them, simply, for who they are.

Our experience of how we relate to those we value, and of how people who value us relate to us, gives us a glimpse of how the Lord relates to us. God loves us in a way that does not count the cost. The gospel reading today expresses that truth very simply: ‘God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son’. God sent us his Son out of love for us and that sending became a giving when his Son was put to death on a cross. Here was a love that did not count the cost, a sending that became a giving when that was called for. As Paul says in the second reading, ‘God loved us so much that he was generous with his mercy’. We are of such value in God’s eyes that God did not spare his own Son, but gave him up to benefit us all. It is not surprising that the cross has become the dominant symbol of Christianity. This is not because we glorify suffering in any way, but because we recognise that the cross is a powerful sign of how much God values us, how precious we are in God’s sight, the extent to which God is prepared to go to express love for us.

Our love for those we value is bestowed on them for who they are more than for what they do. The same is true of God’s love for us in Christ. It is pure gift. As Paul says in the second reading, ‘it is not based on anything you have done’. Some of us find it difficult to really believe that. We find ourselves asking, ‘how I done enough?’ Yet, when it comes to someone in our lives whom we know truly loves us, we would rarely ask that question of them. Why should we ask it of God, when even the greatest of human love is only gives us a glimpse of God’s love? God loves us for who we are, people made in his image, and, therefore, works of art.

What is asked of us in relation to God is that we receive God’s love, or in the words of the gospel reading today, that we come into the light. The light of God’s love falls upon us, but we can hide from it. Children fear the darkness very often. But as adults we often fear the light, because we suspect that the light will expose us in some way. Yet, the light of God is not a harsh light, the kind of light that is trained on a suspect in an interrogation room. It is a strong, yet warm, light that brings healing and generates new life. It is an empowering light that enables us to ‘live the good life’, as Paul says in the second reading. We pray that, as the hours of day light increase in these days, the life-giving light of God’s love would renew us and fill us with a desire to serve him.

And/Or

(iii) Fourth Sunday of Lent

Children are often afraid of the dark, as the parents here in the church will know. A dim light is sometimes left on while children sleep, so that if they wake up it is not in pitch darkness. Many of us as adults find total darkness disconcerting too. Those of us who live in cities never really experience total darkness. It is different out in the country away from villages, towns and cities. I remember going on a holiday as a young person to the Arran Islands and being struck by just how dark it was at night. There was very little in the way of artificial light to dispel the darkness. The experience of near total darkness after night fell was disconcerting.

Although most of us would claim to prefer light to darkness, in today’s gospel reading Jesus declares that some people ‘have shown they prefer darkness to the light because their deeds were evil’. Most crime is committed during the hours of darkness. Those who are intent on doing wrong are drawn to darkness because it provides them with cover. As today’s gospel states: ‘Everyone who does wrong hates the light and avoids it, for fear his actions should be exposed’. One of the many security measures that have become popular in recent years is an array of bright lights that come on at night whenever anyone steps into an area that is out of bounds. Light is considered, with good reason, to be a deterrent to the person who is intent on committing crime. Indeed, there is a sense in which we all fear too much light just as we do too much darkness. Many of us prefer to stay in the background, in the shadows; we don’t like the spotlight being shone on us. We all have secrets that we would wish to remain in darkness, away from the bright lights that human curiosity and inquiry might like to shine on them. There are aspects of our lives that we would prefer to remain in darkness because we are not sure how people might respond to us if a bright light were to be shone on them. We only bring our deepest selves out into the light in the presence of those we really trust.

The gospel of John frequently refers to Jesus as light. On one occasion, Jesus says of himself: ‘I am the light of the world’. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus says with reference to himself: ‘Light has come into the world’. The gospel reading also declares that the light that has come into the world in the person of Jesus is the light of God’s love. In one of the most memorable statements of the New Testament, the gospel reading declares, ‘God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son so that everyone who believes in him… may have eternal life’. The light of Jesus is not the probing light of the grand inquisitor that seeks out failure and transgression with a view to condemnation. Indeed, the gospel reading states that God ‘sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world’. The light of Jesus, rather, is the inviting light of God’s love, calling out to us to come and to allow ourselves to be bathed in this light, and promising those who do so that they will share in God’s own life, both here and now and also beyond death.

At the beginning of today’s gospel reading, Jesus speaks of himself as the Son of Man who must be lifted up. It was on the cross that Jesus was lifted up, and it was above all at that moment that the light of God’s love shone most brightly. It is a paradox that those who attempted to extinguish God’s light shining in Jesus only succeeded in making that light of love shine all the more brightly. God’s gift of his Son to us was not in any way thwarted by the rejection of his Son. God’s giving continued as Jesus was lifted up to die, and God’s giving found further expression when God raised his Son from the dead and gave him to us as risen Lord. Here indeed is a light that darkness cannot overcome, a love that human sin cannot extinguish. This is the core of the gospel. This is why the fourth Sunday of Lent is known as Guadete Sunday, Rejoice Sunday.

When we are going through a difficult experience and darkness seems to envelope us, it can be tempting to think that we will never see the light again. This is the mood that is captured in today’s responsorial psalm: ‘By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept’. Today’s readings assure us that there is a light that shines in the darkness and that the darkness will not overcome, a light that heals and restores, in the words of today’s second reading, a light that brings us to life with Christ and raises us up with him. It shines in a special way whenever we celebrate the Eucharist. As we gather around the table of the word and the table of the Eucharist, the light of God’s love revealed in the death and resurrection of Jesus shines upon whatever darkness we may be struggling with in our lives.

And/Or

(iv) Fourth Sunday of Lent

A painting hung for many years on a dinning room wall in the Jesuit house on Lesson Street. No one paid much attention to it until one day someone with a keen eye realized that this could be something of great value. It was further investigated by art experts, and it turned out that this painting was the work of the great Italian artist Caravaggio. The painting of the arrest of Jesus is now hangs one of the National Gallery’s great treasures. All those years it hung in the dining room of Lesson Street it was no less a treasure, but its value went unrecognized. It hung there waiting to be discovered, waiting for someone to recognize its true value as a work of art.

According to the particular translation of the letter to the Ephesians we read from this evening, we are all ‘God’s work of art, created in Christ Jesus to live the good life’. We don’t tend to think of ourselves as works of art. Yet, like the person who spotted the painting in Lesson Street, God knows our true worth, our true value. We are works of art to God; we are of great worth and value in God’s sight.

We can all think of people in our own lives whom we value greatly, whose worth to us is beyond price, because to us they are works of art. Today is Mother’s day, and most of us think of our mothers in that way, whether they are still living or are with the Lord. When someone is a treasure to us, we don’t count the cost in their regard. We will do anything we can for them. We will travel long distances to see them; we will stay up half the night to be with them if they are ill; we will protect them with all our passion when necessary. How we relate to those we value and treasure is not determined so much by how they relate to us. Even if they do something that annoys us, we tend to make all kinds of allowances for them. We say something like, ‘that’s just the way he/she is’. Their worth in our eyes is rooted in something deeper than what they do or fail to do. We value them, simply, for who they are.

Our experience of how we relate to those we value, and of how people who value us relate to us, gives us a glimpse of how God relates to us. God loves us in a way that does not count the cost. The gospel reading today expresses that truth very simply: ‘God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son’. God sent his Son out of love for us and that sending became a giving when his Son was put to death on a cross. Here was a love that did not count the cost, a sending that became a costly giving when that was called for. As Paul says in the second reading, ‘God loved us so much that he was generous with his mercy’. We are of such value in God’s eyes that God did not spare his own Son, but gave him up to benefit us all. It is not surprising that the cross has become the dominant symbol of Christianity. This is not because we glorify suffering in any way, but because we recognise that the cross is a powerful sign of how much God values us, how precious we are in God’s sight; it shows the extent to which God is prepared to go to express love for us.

Our love for those we value is bestowed on them for who they are more than for what they do. The same is true of God’s love for us in Christ. As Paul says in the second reading, ‘it is not based on anything you have done’. Some of us find it difficult to really believe that. We find ourselves asking, ‘how I done enough?’ Yet, when it comes to someone in our lives whom we know truly loves us, we would never think of asking them, ‘Have I done enough?’ Why should we ask such a question of God, when even the greatest of human love is only gives us a glimpse of God’s love? God loves us for who we are, people made in the image of God’s Son, and, to that extent, works of art.

What God asks of us is that we receive God’s love revealed and made present in Christ, or, in the words of the gospel reading today, that we come into the light. The light of God’s love falls upon us, but we can hide from it. Children fear the darkness very often. But as adults we often fear the light, because we suspect that the light will expose us in some way. Yet, the light of God is not a harsh light, the kind of light that is trained on a suspect in an interrogation room. It is a strong, yet warm, light that brings healing and generates new life. It is an empowering light that enables us to ‘live the good life’, as Paul says in the second reading, ‘to do good works’. As the hours of day light are increasing in these days, we pray that the life-giving light of God’s love would renew us and fill us with a new desire to serve him.

And/Or

(v) Fourth Sunday of Lent

We have become very aware in recent weeks of how much longer the days are getting. We are half way through the month of March and already it is bright up until after six o’clock. We have even brighter days to look forward to, especially as the clock goes forward next weekend. The brighter evenings brings everybody out. With the increase in light, there is also an increase in growth. The first blossoms of spring have already come out. Nature is coming to life after a time of hibernation.

The gospel reading this morning is in keeping with what is happening in nature. It declares that ‘light has come into the world’. The light there is a reference to the light of God that has come into the world through Jesus. Both the second reading and the gospel reading make clear that the light of God is the light of love. The second reading declares that God loved us with so much love that he was generous with his mercy; it speaks of God’s goodness towards us in Christ, the infiniteness richness of God’s grace in Christ. The gospel reading declares that God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son. In the light that Jesus brings from God we find mercy, compassion, great love, kindness, infinite grace. Sometimes we don’t like too much light. There is a certain kind of light that can expose us mercilessly, like the light of the interrogator’s lamp. However, Jesus brings a light that need hold no fear for us; it is a divine light that lifts us up, just as the Son of Man was lifted up, in the words of the gospel reading. Here is a light that assures us of our worth and that helps us to see the goodness that is within us and the good that we are capable of doing. It is a light that, in the words of the second reading, allows us to recognize that ‘we are God’s work of art, created in Christ Jesus to live a good life’. It is the light of a love that shines upon us regardless of what we have done or failed to do. As the first reading reminds us, God’s grace, God’s love, comes to us not on the basis of anything we have done. It is not something we earn by our efforts; it comes to us as a pure gift. When God gave his Son to the world, did not ask whether the world was worthy of his Son or whether the world was ready for his Son. Even when the world crucified God’s Son, God did not take back his Son from the world. Rather, God continued to give his Son to the world, raising him from the dead and sending him back into the world through the Holy Spirit, through the church. Here is a light that shines in the darkness and that the darkness cannot overcome, in the words of the gospel of John.

We all long for that kind of light, a light that is strong and enduring, a light that can be found at the heart of darkness and that is more resilient than darkness. We have all experienced darkness in one shape or form. It may be the darkness of sickness, or of the death of a loved one or the darkness of failure; we may struggle from time to time with the darkness of depression, with those dark demons that tell us that we are worthless and that life is not worth living. Something of that darkness of spirit finds expression in today’s responsorial psalm. It was composed from the darkness of exile in Babylon. ‘By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept, remembering Zion’. We may have known our own experiences of exile in its various forms, times when we felt cut off from what gives meaning and purpose to our lives. The readings this morning assure us that in all those forms of darkness, a light shines - the light of God’s enduring love that is constantly at work in our lives so that we may have life and have it to the full. In the words of the gospel reading again, ‘God gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him... may have eternal life’.

Even though this wonderful light has come into the world and wants to shine upon us all, we can be reluctant to step into that light, and allow it to shine upon us. In the words of the gospel reading, ‘though the light has come into the world, people have shown that they prefer darkness to the light’. This is the mysterious capacity of human freedom to reject the light, to turn away from a faultless love and a boundless mercy. Yet, our coming to the light is often a gradual process; it can happen slowly, at our own pace. The Lord is always prepared to wait on us; he waits for our free response. We are not used to a love that is as generous, as merciful, as rich in grace and goodness as God’s love; it takes us time to receive it, to believe in it, to embrace it. Receiving God’s love and then living out of that gift is the calling and task of a life time.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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aliceslantern · 3 years

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Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 8

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done. Chapter summary: With Riku gone, and their work done, Ienzo and the others try to move on.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

With their work over… with Riku and Kairi on the other side… Ienzo and the others… had to try and move on.

The lab was a disaster storm of papers and books. After everyone was gone, and after several hours heatedly discussing whatever the hell had just happened… in an exhausted haze, they cleaned up. Even was still muttering about the ridiculousness of it all, and it annoyed him and Ansem both until finally Ansem just said softly, “Even, please, I think we could all do with some silence.”

Even just shook his head and stormed off to his own labs, not, Ienzo was sure, out of anger, but out of confusion.

Ienzo kept sweeping the papers into their piles. He felt so… heavy.

“I suppose we can ask Aeleus or Dilan to help us move the chair,” Ansem said. “We could always leave it until tomorrow, eh?”

“Right,” Ienzo said.

Ansem shook his head. “One has a sensation of “what now,”” he said.

“Yes. Exactly.”

Ansem smoothed his own pile of research. “Well, I could very much go for some ice cream. What do you say?”

“...Yes… alright.”

It wasn’t until both of them had their bars in hand that the silence broke. “He’ll be okay,” Ansem said. “I’m sure of it.”

“I know he will,” Ienzo stuttered. He watched a bead of ice cream roll down the bar; he had yet to bite. Finally, he did, only to get stabbed with a pang of nostalgia. There had been a reason he’d avoided getting one of these, despite his old love for them.

Holding Ansem’s hand walking down the hall to the labs feeling like a very good precious boy for scoring full marks on Even’s test--

“Oh,” he said.

“What is it?”

“It tastes like the past.” He felt tears welling in his eyes, and wasn’t completely sure why. “It tastes like…”

Ansem patted the small of his back. “I know.”

Weeks passed, then months.

Ienzo was never quite sure of what to do with himself. Since he’d woken as this new Ienzo, he’d always had a goal, something urgent hanging over his head. First it was trying to give Roxas a body. Then it was examining Kairi’s heart. Now… pure nothing.

He tried to do some work on the repairs, limited as his knowledge of that sort of thing was. Dilan was insufferable about it, but Aeleus was patient. “It seems like a long while since we've had more than a passing conversation,” Aeleus said. “Hand me the wire cutter.”

Ienzo did. “Yes. It does, doesn’t it?”

“You were always in that lab, or on the phone. One wonders if you even slept.”

“Barely,” he admitted. “Now I feel as though… everything’s just stopped.”

“A moment to breathe,” Aeleus said. He spliced together two wires in the wall and taped them together.

Ienzo shook his head.

“That’s not something you want?”

“I’m not used to it,” he said. “All my life I’ve been going, going, going, and now…”

Aeleus spliced together a few more wires. “Perhaps that will be good for you.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“It’s time for us to move on, which is no easy task. For you especially.”

“What do you mean?”

He shot him a look. “I can tell you feel overwhelmed.”

Ienzo sighed.

“It’s understandable for human emotion to feel like too much. We’re all on the same page, Ienzo.”

“Emotions were not nearly so complex when I last remembered them,” Ienzo said.

“You grew up,” Aeleus said.

He looked down into the toolbox. “Do you feel guilty, Aeleus?”

He paused. “I do. Yes. The memories of what we did… are everywhere.”

Ienzo nodded. Now that he had no directive to be in the lab, seeing that closed, sealed door leading down into the basement… Well. He’d started having nightmares more, about the faces of the people he’d broken, and he’d woken up sobbing more than once. How could he put it right? How could he sit here doing nothing ? But what else could he do to help?

Mixed with these memories were others. What do you think if we did this, Ienzo, is that something you’d like to do? He could see the manipulation more clearly now. I’m sorry. Master Ansem isn’t coming back. He’s gone mad.

“Can you try it now?”

“What?” Ienzo asked.

“The breaker.”

Ienzo switched on the panel. Immediately, the lights in the hallway got much brighter, and he winced.

Aeleus nodded once. “Better.” He started packing up the tools. “Ienzo--”

“Yes?”

He shut his eyes tightly. “I must apologize to you,” he said.

“Oh, Aeleus, you weren’t stealing me away from anything.”

“Not that. For… being unable to protect you better.”

“In Castle Oblivion? Aeleus, it’s all--”

“From Xehanort.”

Ienzo froze.

“I knew there was something evil about him, something wrong,” he said. “But he knew just the right way to stoke one’s ego, the… darkness in one’s heart. If any of us had been anything but selfish we could’ve stopped you from falling onto the path too.”

He sighed. “It’s alright, Aeleus.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “But regardless… I hope our own sins don’t hold you down.”

He wasn’t sure what else to say to that.

“Shall we move on to the next one?”

---

Forgiveness.

The notion of it haunted Ienzo. He felt certain he did not deserve it from others. He hadn’t thought he’d be asked to ever give it.

He tried not to be bitter at the others for what they’d done in their past, but the longer he spent here in this castle with these memories and nothing substantial to do, the more he tried to wrap his head around their lies. Tossing his father away and lying to him about it.

Ienzo made his next major task cleaning up the library. It was a disorganized, chaotic mess, and though it kept his hands busy, the silence was utterly piercing. Had Riku and Kairi arrived at this “unreality”? Had they found Sora? Were they okay? He knew he had to trust in them both, but at the same time, he worried. Given that his bond to Riku had changed radically…

He missed him.

He felt tenderhearted, and a fool. Riku was the only real friend he’d ever had near his own age, and Ienzo did not feel secure in his relationships with the others to talk about anything really substantial. It ached .

Time passed.

---

“Be careful with the nitrogen, Ienzo. I thought I’d taught you better lab etiquette.”

Ienzo sighed heavily and adjusted his grip on the canister. He was supposed to be helping put samples of… something, on ice. Even had told him what, but he couldn’t remember. Lately everything seemed to be in one ear and out the other. He felt scattered.

“Careful now.” With his hair in a cap, and the goggles making his green eyes bulge even more, Even looked a little bit like a bug. What creatures we are, Ienzo thought. “I do so miss the days of our powers. I wouldn’t have needed to fuss with all these chemicals.”

“Do you?” Ienzo asked, carefully pouring in the fluid.

“The magic,” he said, with a sigh. “As much as I try to strengthen what I have left… it will never be as it was. That’s enough. I said that’s enough. ”

Ienzo set the canister down. They both watched the steam roll as the nitrogen boiled, and Even shut the lab’s freezer.

“Indeed, what has gotten into you?” Even asked. “You were never one for absent daydreaming.”

“I’m sorry, Even,” he said dully.

He frowned. He took off his goggles and gloves and went over to the sink to wash his hands. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes. Fine.”

“Will I need Aeleus to drag you to bed again?”

He scowled. “No.”

Even took off the cap, a long braid falling over his shoulders. Not for the first time, Ienzo noticed that the ends of that hair were singed . He caught Ienzo staring and raised an eyebrow. “How have… things been for you?” he asked awkwardly.

“What do you mean? The days are the same as they ever were.”

“Are they?” Even asked. “I’ve been seeing you wander the halls aimlessly. If you need something to do , Ienzo, we can catch up on your chemistry education.”

He shook his head slowly. “With… no life or death task at hand… lately I feel as though… I’m stuck in mud.” He started shedding his own protective garments.

“That’s no surprise. I do too.” He sighed. “To suddenly be thrust back into a normal life… is to suddenly be thrust back into a normal life. After some ten years of abnormality.”

“...Quite.” He recalled when he was a child, and he'd felt quite comfortable telling Even everything.

Even, in fact, had been the one to tell him about Ansem. “What does that look mean?” Even asked.

Ienzo frowned. “I’m… curious. Why did you do it?”

“What? These samples? I’m exploring a new type of replica tech for Xion, Roxas, and Na--”

“Not that. Why did you lie to me all those years ago?”

All of the color left Even’s face, and the only audible sound was the soft hum of the machinery.

Ienzo pulled the bobby pins from his bangs. “I don’t ask this to be confrontational,” he said. “I just… truly, the more time passes, the more I want to know.”

Even squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. “The truth, the whole, complete truth… is that I feared for our lives.”

Ienzo rolled his eyes.

“I mean it,” Even said in a low voice. “Even with darkness gnawing at our hearts, do you think we didn’t know Xehanort was twisted? That we didn’t know what we were doing was wrong? The thing is… with darkness… with sheer old-fashioned cognitive dissonance… we believed that the discoveries we were making… offset the human cost.” He sighed, and sat down heavily on one of the stools.

Ienzo waited.

“He wanted more subjects,” Even said tiredly. “Once we had run through our mill of the willing… then the coerced… after that, Ansem had found us out. And that he had… well. We were hungry. If Ansem didn’t disappear, and the experiments didn’t continue, he would instead use us . Namely… you. He was interested in children by then.”

Ienzo felt weak.

“It’s the hardest, and worst, decision I’ve ever made in my life,” Even continued, “Seeing we obviously became experiments ourselves. But I think the three of us were… trying … to protect you in the last way our twisted and darkening hearts could. It was Ansem or you and I chose you.”

He felt dizzy.

“I shouldn’t have lied, I know that much. Or even if I lied I should’ve told you the truth soon afterwards, when you could take it. But I was deathly afraid of word of you knowing somehow getting back to Xehanort. I’m not sure why that felt so urgent. Maybe you would’ve said something ill against him, and you were so small , I was afraid he’d…” He swallowed. “Ienzo, I’m not sure how I can impart to you how sorry I am. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. If I could go back right now and stop it all I would. I was vain, I was foolish, I thought it was… all worth it. But none of it was. Nothing.”

Ienzo had never seen this side of Even before.

“And yet somehow we’re still alive,” he continued wryly. “We’re alive. We’re whole. Somehow the town hasn’t come after us with torches and pitchforks. That has to mean something. I… plan to dedicate whatever’s left of my life to making things better, easier, for the people of this town. I know it’s some hope.”

“I see,” he said, numbly. “Thanks for that.”

“It’s because of all that you grew up a husk,” Even murmured. “And for that… I’m sorry, Ienzo.”

Ienzo realized he didn’t forgive him. Not yet. “I know,” he said.

Even stood. “I think you, out of all of us especially, get to deserve to try for something like happiness,” he said.

“You do?” he asked dryly. “But I… even I have done awful things--”

“Things you wouldn’t have done, I’m certain, if we hadn’t guided you onto that path,” Even said.

“Don’t exonerate me,” Ienzo said, with something like panic.

“It’s the truth,” he said. “You can’t expect your younger self to have magically risen above. If you’d gone against us, Ienzo, with no Ansem, where would you have gone? Would you have known how to survive?”

Something tight and hot surged in his breast and throat.

“You wouldn’t have,” Even said. “You were a… a rather sheltered child. Ienzo, I just… I hope you can learn to forgive yourself. You’re too young to suffer your whole life.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was being crushed from the inside out. He found himself being eased onto one of the stools. He was sobbing, disjointedly, an awful aching weight inside of him beginning to lift because Even was right.

“Oh dear. That made it worse, not better, didn’t it,” Even said. He offered Ienzo a tissue.

“No,” he sobbed. “I… I think I understand.”

“Let it out,” he said. “Let it go.”

So Ienzo did. Awful, and humiliating, but at the same time a weird pressure was beginning to ease. Even rubbed circles into his back. It seemed to take a long, long time, and when he was through he felt exhausted, but not as horrible as he thought.

“There we go,” Even said, in a voice Ienzo remembered from his childhood. “Better?”

Ienzo swallowed. “I… I think so.”

---

Ienzo… took time. He walked a lot, even as the fall deepened into winter into spring. He read a lot of novels and kept doing repairs and tried to understand what it meant to be human.

Ienzo missed Riku.

Nobody had heard from any of them since the last he’d seen. He thought often of their kiss, what it had made him feel. Wondered if he would ever get to do it again, or if it were just a memory. Wondered what exactly this affection meant. More than like, more than attraction. Surely not love, not yet? He tried not to dwell on it much, tried to let the feeling pass like it was a bad cold. But it didn’t.

He was dozing over a pile of books in the library when his phone rang. It was late at night, so late as to be early. Sleepily, he stirred to look at the caller ID, and his heart jackhammered into his throat. He looked--he was sure he looked absolutely hideous--he scrambled to smooth the hair over his face. “Hello?”

The lighting on Riku’s video was awful, but Ienzo could see most of his face, some of it partially obscured by hair that had gotten even longer. He looked a bit thin, and very tired. “Ienzo. Ienzo.”

“You’re back.” He couldn’t restrain the emotion anymore.

“I’m back. I’m home.”

“You’re okay?” They were nearly talking over each other.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I just got in, I just saw my parents, I knew I had to talk to you. I wanted to. I needed to. I…” He sounded choked up.

“How are your friends? Did you find him? Are they okay?”

“Sora and Kairi are fine. They’re with their families. We’re home.”

“You’re home. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He wasn’t sure if he was stating a fact or trying to comfort him.

“I’m sorry I’m so emotional--”

“No, don’t be, this is huge.” Ienzo swallowed his own tears. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too.”

A long pause. “You must be exhausted,” Ienzo said. “You should try to get some rest.”

“I just wanted to let you know I’m here.”

“Thank you.” He wondered if he should admit it. “I’ve… thought of you often.”

He laughed. Ienzo noted it sounded quite weak. “What, did you miss me?”

“Much to my chagrin.” His heart was in his throat. “Though I guess you were too busy adventuring to think of me at all.”

His face fell just the slightest.

“I’m… I’m sorry. That was a bit tactless.”

“It’s not you,” Riku said. “It’s just… it was really… a lot, I’m still… trying to accept how it all went down.” He took an audible breath. “But I did miss you. Kairi… wouldn’t let me live it down. Guess we didn’t seem so slick.”

He laughed a little.

“I’m not even sure how long it’s been for you guys, between the… the worldines, and the unreality, and the… I’m dizzy. ”

“Six months.”

“...Oh. Wow, that’s… more than I thought.”

“I’m just so glad you’re alright. I’ve been worried. You made me worried.”

He laughed. “Well you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“I guess not.” He didn’t quite feel the relief yet, still shaky with adrenaline. “Thanks for calling. You didn’t have to do it instantly. ”

“I sorta did,” Riku said. “I wanted to let you know.”

“When things… settle, when you get some rest. Will you call again? Or write me? Tell me what exactly you’ve gone through?”

“Yes. I will, I’m just… I should… talk to my parents, my mom’s watching me out of the backdoor to make sure I don’t disappear.”

“Of course. Be with your family. Be home. I hope you can enjoy it.”

“...Thank you. Um--”

“Until next time.”

“Right. Yes.”

He hung up, and for a long time Ienzo just sat starting at the blank phone screen. He let out a long, long sigh.

Riku was back. Riku hadn’t forgotten about… whatever they’d had. He’d made it a priority.

Ienzo hugged the phone to his chest, feeling like a schoolboy.

#give/take #ienzoku #ienzo/riku #ienzo #riku #even (kingdom hearts)#aeleus #ansem the wise

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fanpom-imagines · 5 years

Text

Imagine being a descendant of dragon slayers in Westerns and Jon asking for you to help with the White Walkers while Daenerys wants you to bend the knee as well. (Part 1)

Masterlist (Part 1) [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Words: 1675

Warnings: sassy reader and impressed Sansa

Gifs aren’t mine.

(Edited: Decided to make this into a series of sorts)

(Female Reader)

“The world really must be coming to an end.” I said as I looked down at the King of the North from my seat in my throne. King Snow just gave me a look of puzzlement as he didn’t not understand or expect my reply, so I carried on. “So what I know so far is that this self proclaimed Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains, the Unburnt, and la la la something Targaryen, wants my people’s and I’s assistance?”

“Yes, your Grace,” Jon nodded in conformation.

“Do you understand how absurd that sounds to me?” I asked him as I raised a brow.

Jon looked around and then back at Ser Daavos who looked about as clueless as him.

I sighed out and answered my own question for him, “My people are descendants of dragon slayers and have had quarrels and wars with the Targaryens for years. They are dragon riders while we are dragon slayers yet you stand here before me expecting me to fight along a woman who’s people had almost eradicated mine and had sent us into exile on an island where we could barely survive?”

Jon looked shocked, but then he quickly pulled himself back into his warrior like stance and told me, “Your Grace I am not asking you to forget your rivalries with the Queen I just ask for your alliance during this war against the dead. Winter is Coming and it seems like it’s going to stay for a long time.”

He definitely had a way with words. No wonder he was crowned as the King of the North, and I do have to admire the fact that he laid down his crown in order to gain an alliance with the Targaryen girl in favor of his people. I contemplated his words for a few minutes and I could feel the air of anticipation rising around me.

“My people and I will help to protect one another from the dead.” I told him and I could see a slight wave of relief in his eyes as he heard those words.

“Thank you, your Grace, we-” I cut Jon off before he continued.

“Thank me when we win the war,” I smile at him and stand up. The two of us bow to one another and he leaves to gather his things and I then start to already pick out men I’m going to bring along with me to officially band together this alliance with the queen.

On the next day the men I had order to come along, King Snow, Ser Daavos, and I made our way to Winterfell which took a few days as we had to use our ships to sail to the mainland. Not a long trip as our island, Ossēnagon, was only around a day and a half away from Westeros. Over the course of that day I asked Jon about the North and what he had been through since I had only heard tales and wanted to know if they were just rumors or if they were truth, and over the course of our trip I came to respect him, yet I did not trust him, but he was a noble and honest man and I admire that in him. It’s a shame he’s not a King no more.

When we had made it to Winterfell Jon showed my guards and I where to stay and then bid me a good night and told me that the next day the queen would like to speak with me. I thanked him and bid him a good night as well.

I fell asleep wondering about Westeros. I never stepped foot on the Land of the Seven Kingdoms before. I had gone to Essos before to see the Free Cities and to gaze upon the Giant guarding Braavos and to gaze around and see all the different people and cultures, but that was when I was younger. Now the whole worlds at war and I have no family to guide me. I envied that about Snow. He had lost a lot, but he still had his family left. Then my mind wandered to the Queen. She had lost her whole family like I had. I guess we are not so different after all, it seems. Yet I still bared hate for her, but my people didn’t come first, and I swore a vow to keep them safe even if it cost me my life and or my legacy.

I woke up with a knock on my door. It was one of my men telling me that the queen will want to see me in about an hour. I replied that i’d be ready and got into my clothing and ate the food they had brought me about thirty minutes before my expected official arrival in front of the Queen.

I heard another knock not soon after finishing and saw it was one of the Queen’s Unsullied. I’d only heard tales about them, and while we were walking rather than my mind being occupied with meeting the Queen I was more focused on the fact that if it was true about them having their parts cut off. That must be very painful, but it also is most likely the reason they’re fearless.

As I walk through the doors into a room where the Queen, King Snow (well he’s not a king anymore, but he still seems to me as one), and a woman who I assume is Lady Sansa Stark are sitting next to one another behind a long wooden table with Ser Daavos, a young girl who stood up proud, a woman with dark frilly hair, a boy sitting in a chair with a wheels to push it with eyes that seemed to stare into ones’ soul, and a man small of stature who, stood behind them while what I assumed to be the lords and ladies of the North and the Southern Houses that the Queen has convinced to have the join their forces were sitting on both sides of the room.

I had to admit they did seem stern and intimidating; the Queen especially, but of what I heard of her past I could understand why.

“It’s a pleasure to have you, Lady (Y/N),” the Queen greeted, which I didn’t not one bit like. She referred to me as Lady, not Queen or your Grace where as Jon Snow had. Now I’m starting to doubt that Jon had told me the whole truth when he had showed up at the doorsteps of my castle.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Daenerys,” I shot back my smile slightly moving into a smirk.

I saw, who I assumed to be Lady Sansa Stark, smirk at my reply while I heard a few murmurs coming from both sides of the room and I also saw the slight, shocked eyebrow raise from Jon Snow. Daenerys on the other hand was not pleased.

“You forget yourself, Lady (Y/N),” Daenerys warned, but I just replied.

“No, you forget yourself, Lady Daenerys. You and I are both Queens of equal status. So if you regard me as Lady I shall also refer to you as Lady.”

“You dare say such things to me in my kingdom?”

“Last I checked a Lannister still sits on the Iron Throne.” I replied to her sharply and the whole room went silent. Daenerys may not have shown that she was furious, but her eyes defnitely did.

“I hope you realize, zaldrīzes ossēnagoner, that I am of dragons blood and my fury is just as vicious as a dragon’s, if not more.” Daenerys warned, and by now she was standing glaring daggers into me which I rivaled with my own glare.

“Do not forget, zaldrīzes kipagīros, my people bathed in dragon blood, and we’ll gladly do it again,” I told her and I saw a Lady Sansa and the girl behind her smirk. I heard some shouts come from all around and anger starting to be fueled by my comment

Before Daenerys could reply Jon quickly stood up to stop this argument before it became any worse, “Your Grace and My Queen we are not here to fight one another we are here to defend our people. So for the good of those who you’ve sworn to protect please put them aside for at least till the end of this war. Because right now anyone who is alive is an ally and should be regarded as such because that is the only way our world has a chance at survival.” Again the whole room fell silent at Jon’s command, and that snapped both Daenerys and I back. As everyone goes back to their original seats and the room once again seems to calm down lady Sansa starts to speak.

“Your Grace it is a great honor to have you here, I am Lady Sansa of House Stark. We ask for your assistance and alliance in this war, and I assume you my brother has explained why,” she motions to Jon and I nod in conformation, “So then I won’t bore you with the details, but we do ask you to agree to this alliance and its terms in front of not just us, but the people as well.” She says gesturing to the people around her.

I look around and then I look back to the three sitting in front of me. Lady Sansa seems to have some form of respect for me, Jon’s eyes on the other hand are filled with hope, but also worry, while Daenerys’ eyes stare at me coldly with slight waves of anger swirling around within them.

“I accept this alliance and will grant you the support of as many men as I can supply and anything else that will help you win this war. I swear by the powers of Ice and Fire.” I vowed as I bowed as well as spoke the motto of my house: ‘By the powers of Ice and Fire.’

Talglist:

@bee-wrecker @boogiebunnies @precious-bands-love @supernaturaltrashy@immortal-imagination @mikariell95 @saoirsewhittle @jinx-is-fire

#game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones imagine #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #sansa stark #got #got x reader #got imagine #female reader #jon snow x reader #jon snow imagine #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine

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headoverjojo · 5 years

Note

Hello again❤ How about a little scenario about marriage proposal in dangerous situation? (maybe s/o - part of mafia?) with Bruno...? or Prosciutto? or...Melone? :D P.S. Sorry for my English, I love your writing

Hello again too, dear~ don’t be sorry, your English is perfectly fine! And… what about them all? ;)

Bruno Bucciarati, Prosciutto and Melone propose in a dangerous situation

(Under the cut for lenght!)

Bruno Bucciarati

Being Caporegime wasn’t the easiest work in the world, especially if the gang was Passione, Italy’s most feared and powerful organization. Bruno was well aware of all the risks and dangers of his high grade and that this all will be reflected also on his lover. Still, you reassured him more times about it: you were a stand user like him, an expert Passione Soldato, you could stand your ground! Even so, Bruno couldn’t restrain himself. You were too precious and he couldn’t bear even the thought of losing you for an understatement.

And it happened also that fated and extremely unlucky night.

You were peacefully sleeping enveloped by Bruno’s strong and warm arms; his breath softly fanned over your hair. The night was quiet and silent, as usual, when a sudden noise broke the peace.

Bruno’s eyes snapped open, already allerted. When you woke up, he was already up, Sticky Fingers out and ready to fight.

“Bruno…?” he lifted his hand, signaling you to stay silent, while he was intently listening to the light, but unmistakable, noises that were coming from the hall. Low whispers could also be heard, now that your ears were hypersensitive due to adrenaline.

“Do you really think they’re at home? It’s too silent…”

“Because you’re doing too much noise, idiot. Shut up and let’s do it quickly.” two male voices reached your ears, making you shiver. They were been sent to execute Bruno and you as well… you weren’t naive, you had faced death more times, but never at home. It was a safe place; you felt violated deep inside.

And, especially, this meant that a spy managed to infiltrate in Passione.

Bruno must have thought the same, since his gaze was incredibly cold. You had seen such gaze just when he was facing some traitors.

“Get in the zipper, Y/N.” he ordered, while Sticky Fingers was opening a zipper on the wall. His tone was so serious that you just obeyed, sliding in the zipper. You turned around, watching Bruno, his fighting stance and his cold, determined gaze one last time, before the zipper closed behind you.

Here the sound was muffled: the concussion, few muffled screams and painful whimpers, the loud thud of one… no, two bodies. Was it over? You just hoped that Bruno was fine, that nothing bad happened to him…

After long, painful moments, the zipper opened and Bruno’s hands brought you on his chest, holding you tightly. He too was a bit shocked: he felt violated in being attacked in your own house. It could be said that it made him change a bit his mind: even if he didn’t have to fear the Boss, now that Giorno was the Don, the dangers were still high and present. Life was too short to waste time.

“Let’s marry, Y/N.” he suddenly said. You watched him with shocked and widen eyes; did he mean it for real?

As reading your doubts, he kissed you, softly, full of love, caressing your cheeks.

“I really mean it, Y/N. I know it’s not the most romantic set…- he said, as your eyes fell on the unconscious men on the ground. - but I really mean it. I want to pass the rest of my life with you, so… please, Y/N. Marry me.” he asked again, sincere. You could just chuckle, nodding and bringing him to you, kissing his lips and nose, finally releasing the tension.

“Of course I want to marry you, silly. I’ve always wanted to.” you replied, making him smile brightly and hug you tightly. At least you both gained something good, from that night.

Prosciutto

You hid as better as you could behind a metal cash, protecting yourself from the rain of bullets. You exchange an exasperated look with your partner, Prosciutto, hid as well behind another cash. It should have been an easy job, but even for two members of the Squadra Esecuzioni the platoon of enemies was too much. Well… at least all together. You just had to act smarter than your enemies.

“I’m gonna kill those fuckers of Squadra Informazioni.” Prosciutto muttered, reloading the gun and shooting with precision, giving you a slight opening to run to his cash. You slid near him, taking some of his bullets and putting them in your own gun.

“They must have been all drunk as hell to tell us that the enemy’s ranks were thin. That crowd doesn’t seem thin.” you growled, shooting as well. Another two down. Still too many were on their feet and, especially, with their fingers on the trigger. He couldn’t even use The Grateful Dead, since you didn’t have ice to keep yourself safe from the stand’s effects. Prosciutto wasn’t down to risk his lover’s life to save his own, absolutely not.

“Well, this just means that we will be the ones who’ll thin their ranks, so, cara.” he replied, with the smug smirk you grew to love so much. Before you could strike again and weaken them, he brought you in a rough kiss, squeezing your hip.

“Marry me, when we’ll be out of here.” he said, making you chuckle. The adrenaline from the fight and the kiss just shared made your blood roar and pump in your ear, maybe it was messing with his head too?

“Sure, honey. We are practically already married, we just miss the officialization.” you replied, peeking from your hiding spot. He grinned again, reloading the gun.

“That’s my babe.” he kissed you again and then he pushed you back, making his way to the enemy ranks, unleashing his stand. You grimaced, knowing how much risk he was taking but also knowing that, going to fight at his side, you’d just have put on his shoulder more weight. So you stayed behind, at safe distance, shooting at who dared to go too near him. You both were going to go back together, at any cost.

And, also, you wanted to ask him explanations about his marriage proposal.

Soon, thanks to your combined teamwork, all the enemies, one by one, fell on the ground, dead. Finally you can reunite with Prosciutto, who deeply kissed you, his blood still roaring in his vein. He hadn’t a fight like that in years! And he shared the arena with you, his wonderful lover, the person he wanted so bad to marry and to be with for life.

“So, Pro? Were you serious, before? About the marriage?” you asked, tilting your head. The hitman smiled, nodding, keeping you close by your waist.

“Absolutely serious. Marry me, Y/N. Let’s share the time we have left.” he repeated, intensely staring in your eyes. You smiled, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand, slowly and sweetly.

“As I said, we already live like a married couple. Let’s make it official, then.” you softly said, bringing him down to kiss him, as to seal the promise. Among the corps of your enemies, ignoring the smell of blood and gunpowder, you stand one in each other arms, kissing, close to the world; a proposal really worth of one of the most dangerous man of all Italy.

Melone

Melone bit his lips again, drawing more blood, while his foot pressed even more on the accelerator pedal. Ghiaccio’s yellow car -he couldn’t take his motorbike, not when he could have had to carry your unconscious body- bolted through Campania’s countryside, following Babyface’s spawn’s indications.

His heart still ached when he thought about what he had found just few hours ago. He came to your house, a ring safe in one of the inner pockets of his jumpsuit and a bouquet of flowers. He wanted to ask you to marry him since long, but he always managed to contain himself. Now, however, it seemed the right moment to propose, so he had gathered all his courage to do it.

But, when he arrived at your house, a cold shiver ran down his spine, when he saw that the door was ajar. It wasn’t normal, oh no, it really wasn’t… indeed, when he opened it, he saw that your flat was a mess. Evident signs of a scuffle, broken vases, everything was a mess…

Blood.

His heart stopped when he spotted a red sticky splotch smeared on the wall and the floor. He ran towards it, immediately taking a sample, trying to work even if his hands were shaking like crazy. He inserted it in his Babyface and sighed, relieved, when the stand confirmed that it wasn’t yours. Then it was the assailant’s one…

His eyes sharpened, now cold and professional. This was something that his Babyface could do really well and, oh, it wouldn’t have had any mercy towards who dared to kidnap you and even hurt you.

And so he created a Babyface spawn using the blood sample, sending him to hunt them down immediately after. He borrowed -or, better, stole- Ghiaccio’s car and he was out in the countryside, following his stand’s instructions. His hands’ grip on the wheel was so strong that his knuckles were turned white and his bottom lip was a bloody mess. He couldn’t even bear the thought of you hurt, beaten, or… or worse. He just couldn’t. He didn’t want to lose you.

Finally, he reached an old and run-down cottage. He turned off the engine, sprinting out of the car and running inside, not even bothering to check for enemies. His Babyface said it clearly: they were all dead.

He finally spotted it, crouched next your unconscious form. With gentle, even if shaking, hands, Melone checked you and, to his immense relief, he saw that you weren’t severely wounded. Just some scratches and bruises.

He lifted you, keeping you tightly against his chest, bringing you out of that damn cottage. Babyface’s son followed him, watching around: his first instinct was to protect you. He was born to accomplish that duty, all in all.

You finally woke up after not even twenty minutes. The soft hum of the engine lulled you so nicely… but it was time to open your eyes. You feared a bit that it could have been just a dream, that you could still be in your kidnappers’ hands, that Melone hadn’t come to save you…

But, when you opened your eyes, the sight of Melone driving made your eyes sting and your heart beat fast. Hearing your gasps, Melone slightly turned to you, his eyes full of tears and a wobbly smile on his lips.

“Welcome back, amore.” he murmured, gently stopping the car. No one was to be seen, it was a really secluded road, so no one would have complained about it. He scooped you on his lap, gently hugging you, mindful of your bruises and aching bones and muscles. He lulled you while you were crying, wrapped around him, finally venting all the fear and the anguish you felt in those few, terrible hours.

Under your chest you felt something strange. Frowning, you touched it closely, finally bringing it out from one of his inner pockets. You didn’t even noticed how he held his breath, while your eyes were glued on the ring.

“Melone…?”

“I… I wanted to ask you this night, but, well… things didn’t go as planned.” he murmured, with a deep sigh, closing his eyes. What a pity: he lost the moment when you put the ring on your finger.

“Yes.” his eyes snapped open and widened when he saw the ring nicely wrapped around your finger, so perfect, so right.

“I want to marry you.” you clarified, making him slowly smile, a smile so big that it seemed on the verge to break his face. He hugged you and kissed your face, your lips, more and more, laughing and crying with you, both a tearful mess happy beyond imagination.

Not the proposal Melone had in mind, but still… the result was wonderful anyway.

#jjba #vento aureo #bruno's gang #bruno bucciarati #la squadra di esecuzione #prosciutto #melone #neutral s/o #marriage proposal on dangerous situation #tw: blood #scenario #mini scenari #sfw #captainmoneko

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theartoflovingthomashunt · 5 years

Text

Lake Tahoe Part One

* * * The Art of Loving Thomas Hunt Fan Fiction Masterlist * * *

– – –

Characters: Alex (MC), Thomas Hunt, Victoria Fontaine, Chazz Javellana

Setting: A couple of weeks after deciding to start dating, Thomas invites Alex to accompany him on a business trip to Lake Tahoe. They are keeping their relationship a secret. This takes place during the last chapter of RCD Book 2. It is after the Duchess party but, before the public Hollywood premiere. This takes place after my House Party fic and before my Coffee Date story.

Rating: PG

– – –

Alex looked at her phone. She had 2 new text messages. One from Thomas and the other from Victoria.

Alex read Thomas’s first: Please tell me you are ready. I’m on my way.

She smiled as she looked at her bags, already waiting by the door.

Then, Alex read Victoria’s text: You. Me. Shopping. Drinks. Dancing. Tonight?

Alex texted Victoria back: I would love to but, I can’t! Sorry!!! 😞Chazz has me reading through scripts all weekend. He wants me to find my next project.

Victoria quickly texted back: Ugh! Fine! Be boring! More drinks for me! 🍷🍷🍷

Alex replied: Enjoy one for me! Have fun, but not too much! I’ll make it up to you! 😘

Alex texted Chazz: Heads up, if anyone asks, you have me stuck at home all weekend reading scripts. 😉

Chazz replied a few minutes later: What will you be doing?.... Or should I say who? 😏

Alex responded: Lake Tahoe with Thomas 😊

Chazz teased: Enjoy yourself! I got you covered! I expect juicy details when you come back though! 😼

Alex put her phone in her pocket as she heard a knock on the door. She took her time answering. Knowing Thomas would be more impatient with each moment that passed. After a minute of making Thomas wait, Alex opened the door. She quickly brought her lips to his before he could grumble about waiting. Thomas wrapped his arms around her hips and pulled her in.

“I could get used to that kind of greeting,” Thomas teased.

“Then you are definitely going to enjoy this weekend,” Alex smiled and kissed his cheek.

“Speaking of which, we need to get going,” Thomas expressed. “Please tell me you’re ready. We have a long drive.”

“You should be pleased,” Alex stated. “I’ve been packed for a whole 10 minutes already! It looks like your punctuality is rubbing off.”

“I should be so lucky,” Thomas quipped.

Thomas carried Alex’s bags and loaded them in his car. He then opened the door for her, before getting in the car himself.

“I have to admit, I thought getting you up and ready would be far more difficult. I came equipped.” Thomas picked up an iced coffee from his cup holder and handed it to Alex.

“You know me so well!” Alex happily took the coffee and started drinking it.

“I question what you would do if there ever were a global coffee shortage,” Thomas proposed.

“Don’t even joke about that!” Alex warned. She hugged the coffee to her chest.

“Do you two want to be alone,” Thomas teased.

“My precious!” Alex hissed.

Thomas attempted to stifle a laugh.

“What?” Alex questioned.

“Nothing… You’re just…” Thomas began. “I’m glad you decided to come with me.”

“As am I,” Alex replied, shifting in her seat so she was turned in his direction. “When’s your meeting?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Thomas answered.

“What’s on the agenda for today then?” Alex asked.

“We won’t get there until late afternoon,” Thomas explained. “Then I thought… maybe dinner?”

“I definitely think I could be hungry,” Alex stated. “Anything else?”

“I had some thoughts,” Thomas smiled.

“Do tell?” Alex requested.

“All in good time,” Thomas teased.

Thomas followed the directions on the car’s GPS leading out of the city and eventually onto California State Route 14 heading North. Alex made herself comfortable in the passenger seat, happily drinking her coffee.

"Let’s play a game of ‘would you rather’,” Alex suggested.

“Why pray tell should we do that?” Thomas questioned

“It’ll be fun and we’ll get to know each other better,” Alex explained.

“Fine,” Thomas resigned. “I’ll go first. Would you rather play this game or stop for coffee in another hour when you run out.”

“You think I’ll make it an hour before needing more coffee? That’s cute,” Alex smirked. “You really should ask yourself the alternative, would I rather Alex with coffee or without coffee?”

“You may have a point there,” Thomas admitted defeat.

“Would you rather have a dog or a cat?” Alex asked.

“Cats are the more intelligent creatures,” Thomas stated. “However, dogs are more loyal. I value intelligence, but I’ll go with loyalty. I choose a dog.”

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay good. I was getting nervous. I was about to tell you to take me back. Dogs are the best!”

"I will keep that in mind," Thomas teased. "Would you rather get up early every morning for a year or live without coffee for a week?"

"A year is so much longer than a week. But coffee!!!" Alex contemplated the choice. "I'll get up early and drink lots of extra coffee for the year. Get ready for loads of breakfast dates!"

Alex thought about her next question. "Would you rather give up scotch for a week or spend a day communicating only through texts and emojis are a must."

"What if I just decide not to communicate for the day?" Thomas questioned.

"Not an option," Alex answered. “Oh, and you actually have a big meeting that needs you to make a decision on.”

"I confess I've gotten better with the texting," Thomas began. "Nevertheless I don't believe my brain could handle solely using such a superficial means of communication, even if for just a day. Goodbye Scotch, I will miss you!”

“It’s only for one hypothetical week,” Alex jested. “And, you still have Port and everything else at your disposal!”

“That is of, at least, some consolation. Would you rather stay in or go out for a date?” Thomas proposed.

“Depends on who it’s with,” Alex explained “With you? Definitely stay in. I imagine we can find plenty to do.”

“I like the sound of that,” Thomas agreed. “I feel the same way.”

“Something tells me we will have plenty of dates to test it out,” Alex said coyly.

“Let’s see….” Alex pondered. “Would you rather jump out of a moving car or go over Niagara Falls in a barrel?”

“I don’t want to be in a Tommy Phelps movie,” Thomas fumed.

“If it was a Tommy Phelps choice it would be more like this,” Alex started. “Would you rather jump out of a speeding car as you hurtle toward an exploding warehouse *BOOM* while taking fire from a bikini-clad super-spy *BOOM* or go over Niagara Falls in a barrel as you escape gunfire from a helicopter above that is just about to explode in 3...2...1...*BOOM*? BOOOOOOOM!!!”

Alex could barely contain her laughter. Thomas reluctantly joined in.

Once Alex composed herself, she came up with another question. “How about an easier one? Would you rather hold my hand or stop playing the game?”

Thomas reached over and found Alex’s hand. He guided it toward him, brushing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“My turn. Would you rather cuddle by a fire under the stars or inside under a blanket?” Thomas asked softly.

“Under the stars, for sure,” Alex answered without hesitation.

“I think that can be arranged,” Thomas said, squeezing her hand lightly.

After a couple of hours of traveling, Thomas pulled over to get gas. As he filled the car, he looked through the window at Alex. Her seat was back and she was curled up sleeping. Even asleep, she was breathtaking. As Thomas got back in the car, he took off his jacket and rested it on top of Alex. She barely stirred beneath its touch. Alex looked so peaceful and innocent. Thomas thought back to what could have happened between her and Victor and for a moment, his anger sent a wave of heated fury through his body. He worried about what Victor might do to sabotage Alex’s career, especially with the upcoming premiere of The Last Duchess. He had expected more from Victor after the film was announced yet, so far, nothing. Thomas knew that he would never let anything happen to Alex. He wouldn’t let this town destroy her as he had seen it do to so many others. He would protect her, no matter the cost…. From Victor, or anyone, who would mean her harm.

– – –

>Lake Tahoe: A Weekend Getaway -Three Parts

Photo Edit: Thomas & Alex at the Lake House

Part One - Road Trip (PG)

Part Two - Dinner Date (PG)

Part Three - Next Steps (PG)

Thomas Tags: @hopelessromantic1352 ; @alleksa16 ; @mfackenthal ; @alj4890

Let me know if you want to be added.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I truly appreciate it!

#thomas hunt #thomas hunt x mc #red carpet diaries #choices #pixelberry #mc x thomas hunt #alex hunt #road trip #fan fiction #thomas-hunt #rcd 2 #rcd #lake tahoe #the art of loving thomas hunt #taolth #victoria fontaine #chazz javellana #thomas x alex

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