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crimeronan · 4 years

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Can you explain the appeal of Julian Blackthorn? This is a genuine question because I read the books and came away utterly bored by him and unconvinced of his moral greyness as opposed to like, Adam Parrish’s. He seemed so one dimensional to me but I want to know if I’m Wrong TM considering I tend to be very very biased toward my favourite characters and bored by the rest, and my favourites were Mark and Kieran. So maybe I just didn’t pay him enough attention??

it’s been a while since i wrote any earnest tsc meta but cringe culture is dead and the chance to infodump about my julian thoughts has me vibrating where i’m sitting so. yes okay.

technical stuff

(aka: things pertaining to How The Story Is Constructed)

cassandra clare’s characterization has become much stronger just in general since she first began writing the series like twenty years ago

perhaps most importantly: the more recent stuff i’ve read from her has involved characters who actually grow, change, and learn from their past mistakes

rather than repeating the same stupid decisions over and over again

and over and over and over some more

seriously take a shot every time someone in tmi miscommunicates or self-destructs in ways They Have Learned Not To Do for no real reason. u will die of alcohol poisoning

in tda this shines ESPECIALLY with the evolution of mark, kieran, and cristina’s relationship, but that’s a separate post

clare’s trademark is also the angsty traumatized jerkass love interest with a secret heart of gold

the woman is almost singlehandedly responsible for draco in leather pants and the proliferation of this kind of character type in fandom and teen lit. this isn’t a criticism it’s me marveling at how if you commit hard enough to a single trope you truly can change the world. follow your dreams

sad jackass with a heart of gold isn’t an Inherently Problematic Character Type

but poorly done it can lead to relationship dynamics in which one partner is constantly being hurt by and then forgiving the other despite them making no real effort to change, because they are narratively absolved due to being sad

(there’s a lot of this with earlier jace content. in some ways i think will was later created specifically to be a same-archetype protagonist who actually does get called on his shit and grow. that’s also another post)

also if all of your sexy male love interests are tortured jackasses with a heart of gold then people start calling you a one-trick pony

enter julian blackthorn!

from the very start everything about him is designed to be the INVERSE of the heart of gold jackass. which immediately makes him interesting just from a meta perspective

(mark and kieran are also both alternate angles on this time-honored archetype. mark gets the heart of gold and kieran gets the jackass and then they’re both much more deeply messy than that. yet another post)

julian is kind, self-sacrificing, empathetic, artistic, emotionally supportive, responsible, and favored by old grannies everywhere

so a completely nonthreatening milquetoast guy, right

immediately forgettable if you’re only here for the dramatic conflicts and shithead antics of clare’s other protags

except that he is A Mess

and that he has structured his priorities very carefully, and they are as selfless as you expect from The Hero (TM) but they are also Not Heroic (TM) and they do not align with the moral framework The Hero (TM) is supposed to use

moral ambiguity in characters always exists in relation to their narratives imo. you mention adam parrish - trc’s narrative already mucks around in different ethical shades of gray, and adam falls on the canon scale about where julian does on his canon scale. both more willing than the average pov character to do the ruthless thing or make the fucked-up choice if the ends justify the means; both with an intensely strong sense of internal priorities that they adhere to at all costs, both so unbelievably fucking down for murder; etc

i do think there are ways julian’s choices could have been pushed even further, but considering the number of readers who hate his guts already, i can see why clare opted not to go for the most controversial possible conflicts

so we’re flipping the narrative

instead of seeing this angsty bad boy and peeling back the layers of his trauma to find his heart of gold, we’re seeing the put-together selfless family man and peeling back the layers of his Responsibility Mask to expose the rotting husk underneath

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

THAT IS FUN AS FUCK

then when julian DOES lash out in hurtful, uncontrolled ways, he has significantly more narrative justification for it than most of clare’s protagonists (will elaborate in characterization thoughts)

julian is also interesting as fuck because of how his struggles allow for a more in-depth look at the failings of shadowhunter society, something that’s also sorely lacking in clare’s earlier work

his apparent amorality is simply the result of him making pragmatic and impossible choices because he has been faced with fucked-up ethical dilemmas since age 12 Because Society Has Failed Him

which opens the door for narrative exploration of how and why he’s been failed so badly & what needs to change

i also love that he has such a coldly calculated way of analyzing situations and allowing harm to occur when need be, bc a lot of clare’s early protagonists have such a bad case of Rush In And Get Myself Killed Because I’ve Got Feelings About Impulsive Heroism syndrome that i wanna push them in front of a truck

probably there’s other meta narrative stuff i could say but i’m stopping myself and moving on to character analysis

characterization stuff

(aka: reasons why i’m also attached to him in a vacuum)

i don’t read him as one-dimensional at all tbh

u may feel the narrative pushes “ruthless julian blackthorn” too much without delivering enough actual ruthless julian But i don’t think that’s the same as having only one dimension

from the get-go, the big question centered on julian is always “how far are you willing to go?” and the narrative pushes the stakes slowly higher and higher to continuously test julian’s “the price is always justified” mindset

he has a far more layered and realistic response to trauma than clare’s early protagonists - trauma affects every single aspect of his personality and how he conducts himself, and the effects vary depending on the circumstances

his conviction that he has to be the perfect parent to his siblings because they will fall apart if they see him show weakness?? rooted in how he feels like he’s fallen apart since losing the stable adult support he once relied upon

his willingness to hurt semi-innocent people, commit coldblooded murder, manipulate people using political leverage, allow harm to befall any stranger if it protects his family?? rooted in how he has already had to ask himself how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and how his family is his only source of stability when the world has never done Shit for him

his conviction that he has a darker heart than anyone else because he killed his possessed father, even though intellectually he knows he was saving his brother’s life?? rooted in having no means of processing this trauma and being unable to voice his feelings for fear of backlash from a deeply non-understanding society

the way he represses every single negative emotion he ever has, to the point where emma - his actual literal magic soulmate who can feel his emotions - is startled to find him hurting or angry?? once again all about how he has to be the perfect father or he’s failed completely

the way his anger is so totally disproportionate to different situations and the way his negative emotions can only come out in completely uncontrolled breaks?? all that repression baybey. this kid has not processed a single bad feeling in five years. every single real grievance and petty annoyance has been festering indefinitely inside him like a slowly spreading infection

julian’s arc involves him needing to get thru being his worst self to actually start to heal

as in, he has to actually learn to acknowledge his feelings, take care of himself, lean on his family, and let other people take some responsibility

he also has to learn that in his quest to be the perfect emotionally controlled authority figure, he has not actually learned how to control or deal with his emotions. like. At Fucking All. good god

the narrative setup is also about asking “how far are you willing to go?” until the answer is finally “not this far. not this far”

and once he reaches that point, he has to reevaluate everything about how he weighs his priorities and morals and plans, etc

(i also like that emma has a perpendicular arc in which she’s always the one tempering julian and telling him “no we can’t go that far” until she’s willing to do something horrific that he absolutely won’t and HE has to stop HER. very sexy)

it’s also just really nice to have a character who’s learned to relate so well to literally every single member of his family while still having a very detached ruthless interior consciousness. i have similar feelings about how adam teaches himself to love people, but with julian it’s spelled out more explicitly in canon & it’s a more central character theme

i’m sure i’m also forgetting stuff here but this post is long enough so i’m gonna say good enough

and like i said in the tags on my other post, there are things i’d personally write differently if it were my story - plot points i’d shift, character contrasts i’d up, themes i’d explore differently, pacing i’d adjust, etc. i have plenty of ways i could be nitpicky and editorial about the effectiveness of julian’s arc. but i also don’t feel like writing them out at the moment & none of my critiques on effectiveness have an impact on the core appeal of his character 2 me. he’s so fucking good

#replies #tsc #tda #julian blackthorn #meta #long post #ungodly long post.#shadowhunters #Anonymous

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thechangeling · 3 years

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Ok @the-wckd-powers inspired me to make this. These are my tsc neurodivirgent headcannins based partly on my observations from the books and also partly just vibes.

I'm not including the canon stuff like Ty bring autistic or Jace having C-pstd because.. it's canon or at least basically canon.

Christopher: I know he's cannonly nd but I personally hc him as autistic/adhd.

Lucie: Listen I personally feel like she's also autistic/adhd.

Alastair: We saw this one coming. C-PTSD. I also feel depression as well. Also someone said he's autistic and now I can't unsee it. My boy is in fact autistic. Argue with the wall.

Matthew: Depression. I wouldn't say any ptsd because I just don't really think that's the case. He has trauma sure, but trauma does not equal ptsd. Also someone who has bpd said bpd and I totally see it. For those of you who don't know, bpd is categorized by difficulties in regulating emotion. (As I understand it. I'm not diagnosed.) Also by very intense often stormy interpersonal relationships.

Clary: I hc as autistic/adhd with very minimal evidence just vibes. Sometimes you look at a character and are like... yeah you're not nt.

Alec: MY BOY IS AUTISTIC! ARGUE WITH THE WALL!

Magnus: Oh yeah he definitely has C-PTSD. By the way if you didn't know, c-ptsd is complex post traumatic stress disorder. It is categorized by exposure to REPEATED trauma, as in continuous abuse or neglect. PTSD is just for one single traumatic event.

Will: He definitely experienced depression throughout his teen years. He seems to be fine now in tlh.

Jem: I can't decide on PTSD or C-PTSD. The thing with his parents when he was s kid was one event but you could argue that living with the disease for years after was traumatic enough to give him C-PTSD. Idk. But he doesnt really show many signs of trauma after TID? (This is my issue with CC's portrayal of trauma btw. It ends when their story arc ends or they get together with their love interest. But whatever.)

Henry: Listen, I know everyone says autistic but personally I feel like he has adhd on account if the fact that he is hyper oblivious to most things and has the ability to hyper focus on his experiments.

Charlotte: GAD. Generalized anxiety disorder. Look, this women has been running the institute since she was 18, looking after Will and Jem, and Jesse's ungrateful ass. Then she became the first female consul at 23 and now she's dealing with all the misogyny from the Clave as well as being a mother of two boys. Matthew is....Matthew and Charles is.....Charles. There is no way this women didn't develop an anxiety disorder. Argue with the wall.

Kit: ADHD and C-PTSD. Obviously. I could also make a case for depression too.

Mark: ADHD. As for as I'm concerned this is basically canon. C-PTSD as well.

Kieran: Ok here's a bit of a wild card but to me it makes sense. BPD. Bpd is the result of trauma which tracks. Kieran's emotional needs were definitely not met as a child which could definitely result in emotional dysregulation as well as an intense fear of abandonment and the desire to do anything possible to prevent that abandonment.

Cristina: GAD. No evidence just vibes.

Ty: Dysgraphia and Dyscalculia because yes I am projecting but also they are both comorbid with autism. Ty is also cannonly really bad at math and has issues with writing, often pressing way too hard on the pencil which is a dysgraphia thing. Also I'm pretty sure he along with the rest of the Blackthorns are supposed to cannonly have ptsd but I don't really see it with him tbh.

Emma: PTSD.

Julian: C-PTSD.

Tavvy: Actually I would argue he has C-PTSD because he kept being exposed to terrible shit at such a young age.

Dru: C-PTSD.

Ash: C-PTSD.

Helen: C-PTSD obviously and also depression. I just get the vibes.

Jaime: I see him has autistic. I could be projecting but to me he's just giving off vibes.

Livvy: Autistic. Ty can't be the only one in seven siblings I call bullshit. Also it just makes sense go look up @the-wckd-powers and I's asks about this. Also ngl I don't feel C-PTSD for her either tbh. The twins are def traumatized but they don't seem to have PTSD.

Ok that's it. As far as I'm considered everyone else is nt. I might change my mind later on though.

@littlx-songbxrd

#tsc #tda #tmi #tlh #tid #nd headcannons

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morganaseren · 3 years

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WIP Meme (Warden Inquisitor Niamh/Warden Bethany)

Tagged by: @illusivesoul Many thanks!

Tagging: @this-is-something-idk-what, @noeldressari, @jellydishes, @w-h-4-t As usual, I suck at telling who has or hasn’t been tagged yet.

So this WIP is from prompt #3 I made off this list. It doesn’t tie into the other Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU I’ve already written; this is something wholly separate. No knowledge of it is needed to read this.

Granted, this is a much rougher draft than what I’d normally post here, but given I’m already more than a month behind on updating OtSttCA, I thought you guys would appreciate the treat. :)

Things you might want to know:

As with any AU where Niamh is a Warden, she’s the one who undertakes the Dark Ritual with Morrigan in order to spare anyone from being sacrificed once the Archdemon is slain. Through magic, Kieran is born as a result of their union. While both women carry a great deal of respect for one another, they aren’t and were never in a romantic relationship although there’s gonna be a whole separate AU for that once I get around to writing it.

Niamh is the Warden-Constable for Ferelden while her sister Saoirse is the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden. Saoirse and Leliana are married sometime after the end of the Blight.

As a result of going on the Deep Roads expedition with her sister, Bethany contracts the taint and has to undergo the Joining in order to save her life. She is transferred to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens by Stroud not long afterward.

Niamh and Bethany are in an established relationship by the time the events of Inquisition begins.

While Niamh would normally be off searching for the cure by then, I'm just going to headcanon that she and Morrigan weren’t able to find a suitable lead in their research until much later—enough that they start hearing about the mass disappearances of Wardens across Ferelden and Orlais.

Out of concern, Niamh and Saoirse convince the remainder of their comrades (except for Bethany obviously) to head toward Weisshaupt for help, but Niamh senses that's enough wrong about the situation that she also tells them to journey there in secret. Vigil’s Keep is pretty much closed down at this point until they can figure out what’s going on.

Niamh and Bethany head out toward the Hinterlands to follow up on reports of some Warden sightings in the area. It's when they're stopped in the Crossroads area (where you meet Mother Giselle) that Niamh has Bethany to ask the villagers for any leads while she heads up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to follow up on a tip there. The usual stuff happens, and she ends up waking up in Haven's dungeons, where she gets interrogated by Cassandra.

Honestly, this follows pretty closely to how OtSttCA unfolds as far as the major decisions being made within it goes. However, because she wasn’t in self-exile for a decade, Niamh’s a lot more laidback and confident in her ability to lead, especially with Bethany by her side.

Along that same vein, Bethany is also more self-assured in her abilities as a mage now that she no longer has to fear hiding from Templars. As such, she’s much quicker to speak about what’s on her mind rather than bottle them up as she used to in the past. She confronts Cassandra like an absolute badass several times during the beginning of the story in defense of her lover, which you can check out below the cut with the rest of the content. ;)

Like in her canon world state, Niamh isn't treated well when she’s imprisoned. The guards merely know that she's a mage, so they're operating under the assumption that she caused the explosion at the Conclave. It doesn't help that Niamh's been essentially undercover to search for the missing Wardens, so she's not wearing her usual uniform to signify her status. Cassandra does her whole intimidating interrogation as per usual when Bethany—in all her Warden regalia—bursts in with Leliana.

---

"She leaves with me," she leveled at the Seeker coldly before turning to Leliana with a deep frown. “Why did you not put a stop to this?”

“I arrived here at the same time as you. I didn’t know she was here until she was already imprisoned.”

Niamh couldn't help but chuckle under her breath, utter relief filling her. “I think you may invited utter ruination upon your heads with those two."

Cassandra frowned. "What? Why?"

“What do you mean why?” she parroted with a roll of her eyes, unimpressed with what she had seen of the woman and her colleagues thus far. "Leliana’s my sister-in-law, and the Warden next to her is my fiancée, whom—might I add—you've actually succeeded in making angry.” The corners of her lips turned up into a languid smile. “Not an easy feat, and not a fate I would normally wish upon anyone.”

“Hush,” Bethany muttered as she brushed past Cassandra—all but shoving her aside with a pointed shoulder—as she knelt at Niamh’s side to begin healing the wounds she’d received from her captors. All the soldiers began backing away uneasily, especially as Leliana walked alongside her. “I’m already upset that you sent me down to the Crossroads while you went up to the Conclave alone.”

“It was the easiest way of scoping out the area," Niamh defended even as she sheepishly shrank back beneath her lover’s glare. "If the individuals we were searching for were still down in the village, you would have seen them, and if they were up at the Temple…Well, I suppose that’s a moot point now, given what our new acquaintances have just revealed to me.”

“Do you remember seeing anything at all?” Leliana asked then in concern.

“I can’t recall much of anything before the explosion.” Niamh admitted with a frown. “I thought I remembered someone screaming, but then there’s just... nothing.”

“And...” Leliana gestured toward her hand. “That mark?”

She shrugged as much as she was able to, especially given her heavy shackles. “It certainly wasn’t there when I went to the Temple.”

“What is going on here?” Cassandra demanded then, perhaps confused as to why their supposed prisoner had proven so much more forthcoming with Leliana than anyone else thus far.

“You’ve met my wife before, yes? This is her younger sister Niamh Cousland. She is also the Constable of the Grey here in Ferelden, Cassandra,” Leliana stated gravely. “While the Wardens may not regularly involve themselves in politics, Niamh’s high enough up their chain of command that this country’s branch would fight to the death to get her back, and that’s not even involving what Saoirse herself will do once she finds out her sister's been hurt.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Not to mention the Teyrn of Highever…”

---

After the demons upon the frozen lake had been defeated, Niamh felt the brush of a warm hand in the crook of her elbow gently pulling her back before all she could see was Bethany’s back as her lover marched right up toward Cassandra, heedless of the obvious height difference between them.

"Point your sword at her again, Seeker! Kindly test my patience right now, and see what happens!"

Niamh was mildly amused when Cassandra actually appeared to be a bit startled and had to move back a step so as to not accidentally stab the woman. The Seeker’s dark brows furrowed in confusion. "Are... Are you threatening me?"

"Only because you’ve threatened her repeatedly!” Bethany scowled. “Niamh's very life is in danger so long as that portal in the sky exists; she has no reason to put yours in harm's way. She’s made it more than abundantly clear she’s willing to cooperate even after the mistreatment she received from you and your colleagues." Amber eyes narrowed, and despite their bright depths, there was little mistaking the ice within them. "I haven’t, however, and I’ve no reason to if you’re going to blatantly ignore your own words to the contrary simply because she’s a mage."

Cassandra sheepishly sheathed her weapon. "I’m—"

"If you ever think of drawing a sword on her again, your friendship with Leliana or no, I swear it will be the last time you ever draw breath," Bethany spat, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I’ve lost enough. I will not lose her too." She turned then to hold out her hand for Niamh, allowing the first bit of tenderness to enter her expression as she called out to her. "My love..."

Niamh chuckled quietly even as she weaved her fingers through Bethany’s. “Still so quick to defend me?”

Her lover smiled. “Always.”

Afterward, Cassandra was left to follow behind the two women, who proceeded to lead the rest of the way up the mountain.

"I did tell you not to make her angry," Niamh quipped to Cassandra later upon reaching the first outpost, grinning when she earned a soft sound of disgruntlement.

---

Nothing had really prepared Bethany for the sight that greeted them upon reaching the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

There were so many bodies scattered across the immense crater, expressions twisted in permanent states of terror as they tried to guard themselves against a danger beyond all earthly imagining. Horrified with such evidence of the Breach’s power, it was then that she realized that if Niamh hadn’t somehow received the Mark, she likely would have—

"Bethany?"

She jerked in place, turning to see her lover’s concerned eyes watching her.

"It's nothing,” she mustered up with a weak smile. “I'm right behind you."

Bethany saw, however, that Niamh couldn’t be convinced, as was evident in the tender way the other woman had taken hold of her hand. Niamh said nothing else, as was always her way. She never pressed her to offer anything more than she was ready for. She sighed.

"I should have been there with you," Bethany murmured at last, looking at the strange mark still glowing upon her lover’s palm. It was nothing that even with all her healing magic can hope to fix, but Niamh merely shook her head.

"No.” She brought Bethany’s hand up to her lips to press a kiss reverently across her knuckles. “Were you there with me, I fear you would have died with everyone else," she admitted solemnly. "My heart would not have survived such devastation."

---

Bethany was beside herself with worry when Niamh fell unconscious upon the first, unsuccessful attempt to seal the Breach. Niamh was brought back to Haven to recover, but Bethany refused to leave her side despite Leliana's attempts to get her to take care of herself as well.

"Bethany—"

"You know as well as I do that your colleagues would have killed her down in the dungeons if we hadn’t arrived when we did," Bethany said flatly from where she sat by Niamh’s bedside. "Everyone in the village knows she’s a mage now, and I don’t need to remind you of how well-liked we are on a regular basis..."

"I’ll have my agents watching her. What nearly happened outside the chantry will never happen again."

Bethany bristled instantly at the memory.

---

She’d still been inside the building to relay some information regarding Saoirse to Leliana when they heard the first outraged cries beyond the doors. As the uproar grew louder in volume—all demanding the death of the one who had supposedly killed the Divine—Bethany had rushed outside immediately just in time to see civilians and more than a few soldiers attempting to stone Niamh.

Infuriated by the blatant injustice, Bethany reached over her shoulder for her staff and immediately slammed its point into the ground. At the moment of impact, a wave of force magic traveled violently across the ground, taking the mob entirely off their feet. She had been mindful to curve the energy away from Niamh—and inadvertently Cassandra, who had sidled up to aid the other mage, just as she unleashed her magic—so her lover had remained unharmed and even grateful for her arrival if her relieved smile was any indication.

Still, Bethany steeled her features to utter impassivity as she coolly strode through the crowd. Those within it seemed to be in various states of bewilderment as they tried to regain their bearings, but she took note of the many widened eyes that recognized the blues and silvers of her Warden regalia.

“You will show Ferelden’s Constable of the Grey the proper respect she is due,” Bethany said lowly as she placed herself alongside her lover, her gaze searching for any signs of rebellion to her words. “Anyone who would dare accost her in spite of her title will sorely live to regret it...”

---

"Can you really make such promises?" Bethany asked dryly.

"I can certainly try. Niamh’s family. Saoirse would never forgive me if something happened to her, especially if she knew there was anything I could have done to prevent it." She sighed. "Nor would I be able to forgive myself for that matter. Niamh’s a kind woman, and much like you—and any mage—she’s so undeserving of the treatment she often receives from others.”

---

Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE mages; thus, it should come as no surprise that I always go to get the mages at Redcliffe as allies.

It should also go without saying that Bethany also would have gone with Niamh to deal with Alexius and the Venatori. Per the events of In Hushed Whispers, it's canon that the companions who went with you there become prisoners in the twisted, future version of Redcliffe.

While Warden mages are more susceptible to Corypheus' influence, I headcanon that Bethany was so furious with the loss of Niamh to Alexius that she fought against the mind control even to the point of torture like Leliana. When Niamh sees her in the future, Bethany's so pained, broken, and exhausted but so very thankful to see her lover again.

There's hope again—no matter how small—and Bethany's determined to help her set the world right again.

What little happiness they have at their reunion obviously doesn't last long, especially with Alexius’ death. With the Elder One beckoning at their door, Bethany goes off with the other companions to stall the demons and Venatori outside to give Dorian time to cast his spell.

I’ve always headcanoned that mages have auras unique to the type of magic they specialize in and that they’d be able to subtly influence the world around them based on their emotions. You see evidence of that a lot in OtSttCA, especially in those moments where Niamh’s angry or upset.

In any case, per my headcanon, mages would be able to sense one another although the distance at which they could detect such magic would be dependent on the senser’s overall power or their relationship with the other mage. As close as both women are, Niamh absolutely feels the moment Bethany dies... :(

---

She felt the absence of Bethany’s magic like a dagger to the heart.

It had been there, burning as bright as the sun, and then it had stuttered—dark clouds eclipsing its light—until it simply settled inside her like a dead weight. Left bereft of that familiar, constant presence that had been her very reason for breathing for so long, it was as if water had pooled into her lungs, threatening to drown her. The sensation immediately brought her to her knees, leaving her gasping for breath.

"No..." Niamh whispered out brokenly, anguish and horror overtaking her even as Leliana tried in vain to urge her back up to her feet again. She couldn't hear the other woman's concern past the shattering of her own heart. In its place was simply an aching emptiness that slowly began to consume her whole...

---

Let’s just say that Niamh’s not happy with Alexius when she and Dorian manage to return to the present...

---

The fighting between the Inquisition and rebel mages against Alexius and his Venatori was brought to an abrupt halt by the presence of the Fade rift that appeared overhead. The force with which it easily tore space and reality asunder was enough to take everyone within the audience chamber off their feet, especially as stifling heat and wind spilled from the portal along with two figures.

“Give her back..."

Bethany blearily looked up when she heard Niamh’s familiar voice, and relief filled her when she saw that she was standing beneath the now sealed rift. Even with its disappearance, however, she realized all too soon that it had done nothing to quell the storm that had now taken residence within the room, sending banners and tapestries flying with whipping gusts of wind. At its center was her lover, who was standing so still amidst the chaos around her, regarding Alexius with such apathy in her expression.

“What?" the old magister uttered in confusion, shakily rising to his feet only to have his progress nearly undone as lightning struck the ground next to him with a deafening peal of thunder.

Bethany saw how his throat undulated as he swallowed in nervous regard of the mage slowly making her way toward him. His fingers trembled with the effort to form flames between them.

"...Who gave you the right?” Niamh asked, voice as low as the rumbling thunder, as she strode toward the dais.

The pressure within the room escalated once more as an aura of absolute fire surrounded her. Like vines, they rose from the floor up in spiraling patterns before enveloping her entirely with almost playful licks of flame. Nothing in Niamh’s expression indicated the display of power was in any way exhausting to maintain whereas Alexius was already weakened from his initial spell to destroy her along with his efforts to keep the Inquisition at bay.

But it was not a woman who sought to meet him.

It was death.

As if aware of the sudden danger he was in, Alexius threw forth several barrages of fire at Niamh, but her smooth, relentless advance couldn’t be stopped. She made no attempt to even bat away the bursts of magic. If anything, the flames just seemed to absorb themselves into her. Her aura flared higher, burning more brightly beneath each attack, and as Alexius tried to back away, he inadvertently tripped himself into the throne behind him. He flinched as another peal of thunder made itself known, and as he reflexively turned his gaze to the dark storm clouds coalescing above them, he didn't see Niamh Fade-stepping forward to close the distance between them until he was choking from the fingers around his neck. With her enhanced Warden strength, Niamh was able to lift the magister off his feet entirely, leaving him to dangle helplessly.

“Who gave you the damned right to take her from me?!” she demanded.

With her cry, the fires along the sconces and the hearth behind the throne went out entirely, gone with the sudden gale of wind. As such, the only light to be seen came from the flashes of lightning above them and the fiery aura surrounding her. In the sporadic moments the room illuminated itself, there was little mistaking the utter hatred in Niamh’s eyes.

She was going to kill Alexius.

It would have been well within her right, given the magister had attacked her first within their meeting, but Bethany’s eyes widened when she saw how the staff on Niamh’s back began to rattle violently. Against the sheer heat emanating from her body, the silverite wolf head adorning the top of the staff began to melt entirely onto the floor in thick dregs of liquid while the shaft bowed and arched until it creakily bent in the middle, angling itself with the sharpness of an arrow.

Oh, no... With dread, Bethany scrambled to her feet and darted over toward Niamh. Without her staff to act as a catalyst, if Niamh burnt too much of her magic away, she could cause irreparable damage to herself and those around her.

Upon reaching her lover’s side, she placed her hands on Niamh’s face, desperately trying to draw her attention from Alexius. For a moment, nothing could sway her from trying to squeeze the life out of the magister, and she winced when she felt Niamh’s magic already begin to fluctuate erratically against her own.

"No, no, no! Look at me!” She jerked her lover’s head toward her. “Look at me, Niamh! Please!"

And as Niamh did, she watched in confusion as the woman’s expression froze. The lips that had been pulled back in a sneer of bared teeth slowly went lax, forming an ‘o’ of awe and disbelief, as recognition began to dawn in her lover’s gaze. With it, Alexius gradually slid from her grasp to collapse at her feet with desperate gulps of air, but Bethany paid him little mind. With relief, she saw Niamh’s fiery aura dissipate along with the glow of her eyes until they returned to the pale grey she adored.

"That’s it. Come back to me,” she encouraged. “Just breathe." Bethany took one of her lover’s hands in hers, placing it over her own chest, allowing Niamh to feel her breathing. “Slow and steady. Just like that.”

As each breath fell into sync with her own, Niamh's expression gradually softened into something so reverent and sweet that it almost hurt to see—as if salvation had finally blessed her—but Bethany smiled when she saw the battle rage finally leave her.

“There we are."

Niamh used her other hand to gently cradle the side of Bethany's face. “You’re still here…” she breathed, utter relief in her voice.

“Yes.” Bethany frowned in concern at her reaction. “Always."

---

When they returned to Haven, where Niamh gave her official report to her War Council, Bethany was horrified to learn all that her lover had endured from Alexius’ spell.

Afterward, Niamh suggested they spend the evening in their cabin together rather than explore the trails out the village as per usual, and Bethany didn’t object. She understood her lover’s need to reassure herself that she was still there with her—that she wasn’t simply caught in a dream that she could never wake from.

“Is... Is this okay?” Niamh asked quietly, wanting permission to seek such comfort.

Niamh was always thoughtful in everything she did for her—in bed or otherwise—and while she never treated her like glass, Bethany could count on one hand the number of times she saw her magic unfettered like in Redcliffe. She had felt subtle traces of it occasionally with their intimacy although it was usually with purposeful design—heat, ice, and tickling traces of lightning—that were meant to tease.

But rarely was it ever so close to the surface like this—a conduit of power coiled so tightly within mortal form—waiting to burst beneath Niamh’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Bethany said, gently lacing the fingers of Niamh’s marked hand in hers.

The other woman had been reluctant to let her touch it although it hadn’t shown any notable effects toward anyone—or anything thus far—save for its ability to close rifts. Still, Niamh had been skittish all the same, fearing that it might harm her.

...Or perhaps she believed it was a damning mark of shame—of guilt—much like it had been when the people of Haven had attempted to stone her to death.

---

“There’s no denying that this mark is tied to the Breach. You saw the wreckage at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You saw how many people died, and I still can’t even remember what happened before or after that moment beyond waking up in the dungeons. What if I did do something to cause that explosion?”

“If you had, it would not have been intentional,” Bethany insisted with a frown. “The mark is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, yes, but that you bear it all does not mean you were the one who created it.”

But Niamh couldn’t be swayed as she paced back and forth before the hearth of their cabin. “How can you be so certain?” she murmured.

“Because I’ve known you for years, Niamh. You would never purposely hurt anyone without provocation. Trust in me if you can’t yet trust in yourself.”

---

With permission given, Bethany found herself gently laid out against their bed as Niamh sought to touch and bring her pleasure all throughout the night.

Over the years, she’d become remarkably acclimated to Niamh’s magic that felt so much like a forest caught beneath a winter storm of ice and lightning. It was normally as calm as it was now—crisp as the first intake of breath beneath a cool dawn—but there were times where it could be provoked. The incident in the audience chamber was proof enough of that, where it had settled over them all like the tolling bells of judgment—an inevitability inviting the nascent danger of death.

Bethany had been beyond concerned when she had seen the first bits of viridian energy springing across her lover’s eyes then. There had been an almost disturbing beauty to them—a ring of vines gathering just at the outside perimeter of silvery irises—but that they had pulsed in time with the mark upon Niamh’s hand...

Bethany had feared for her, especially when it seemed to flare all the brighter with the fury that had overtaken her.

She was glad to see no evidence of that now as Niamh laid contentedly next to her. Even though Niamh was sated at last—the burning, restless energy within the other mage having finally simmered down to faint embers—she seemed reluctant to drift off into sleep. Winter-grey eyes continued to lazily rove across her face and form, as if cataloguing every detail less she forget later.

In response, Bethany reached out to tangle her fingers through the dark mane of tousled hair, letting her nails gently rake across her lover’s scalp. Pale eyes had widened imperceptibly at the sensation, but like always, they soon became half-lidded with the soothing nature of it. She heard the quiet hum of disgruntlement, as if protesting the notion of Bethany’s attempts to lull her to sleep against her silent vigil, but she merely shushed her.

“Shh… Rest, my love. I’ll still be here in the morning when you wake.”

---

And that’s basically it.

Again, since this is still in its rough draft phase, it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, leave me a like, comment, or send some love to my inbox! Until next time, dear readers!

#Dragon Age: Inquisition #bethany hawke #female warden/bethany hawke #fanfic #My writing #OTP: In Search of Silver Linings #lee's au ideas #female cousland/bethany hawke

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felassan · 3 years

Note

Morrison = Morri's son? Is Kieran going to be involved in the plot of DA4? Or perhaps the part of Urthemiel's soul Flemeth stored in an eluvian?

Hi Nonnie! No, I don’t think so.

When Anthem was in development, it was internally codenamed “Dylan”. This was a reference to Bob Dylan, the singer-songwriter, because BioWare hoped that like Bob Dylan Anthem would be a name (well, game) that would be talked about for years after release. Similarly, Dragon Age 4 was originally internally codenamed “Joplin”. This is thought to have been a reference to Janis Joplin, another singer-songwriter. As we know, Joplin was then cancelled and the project was rebooted. Along similar lines to ‘Dylan’ and ‘Joplin’, “Morrison” is the current ‘name’ for the current iteration of Dragon Age 4. It’s thought to be another music reference, this time to Jim Morrison (iirc), another singer-songwriter. Both Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison are part of the 27 Club (a list of famous musicians, actors etc who passed away at the age of 27).

It’s not a reference to Morrigan or Kieran. Kieran can’t play a big role in the plot going forwards because in some peoples’ universes he doesn’t exist. He could show up in some peoples’ games depending on prior choices sure, but he won’t be playing a key or central role, which is what the project being codenamed after him would imply (were it so). I don’t expect Urthemiel’s soul to play a big part going forwards either for similar reasons - for players who refused to do the Dark Ritual, Urthemiel’s soul was supposed to have been destroyed. They could always handwave/write around this if they chose to and felt it was needed, like “Flemythal somehow got the soul before or after the Warden who struck the final blow died” or something, but this is my current feeling.

For reference, in the post-credits scene, Flemythal always passes something away through the eluvian when Solas is approaching. This happens in worldstates where she obtained the soul and in ones where she didn’t. Possible handwave notwithstanding, the conclusion then has to be that the thing she pushed through wasn’t Urthemiel’s soul but was instead something else. Data-mining the game files on that scene yields these dev notes:

Designer's Notes: This is Flemeth from the previous two games. In this game, Flemeth's story comes to a head -- she knew that Solas would summon her, and that he would need to steal her power to further his plans. She knew that because they are both elven gods...yet Solas has slept for a thousand years and his power dwindled, while she was killed long ago and a spark escaped from her into the body she now holds. She has nurtured that spark, and knew that Solas would need it. He was once her oldest friend, but she knows in his drive to save the elven people he will kill anyone -- even her. She intends to let him have the power, so long as she can pass the essence of her god-hood onto Morrigan, a gift Flemeth had always planned for her daughter yet one Morrigan misunderstood as hostile possession.

Dev notes like these from game files don’t always ‘hold true’ by the time the games ship because things can change during development and ‘legacy notes’ sometimes get left in there, or else something which the player experiences or is told to them during the game contradicts them (and in those cases what’s seen/said in-game takes precedence in terms of what’s canon ofc, as these notes aren’t really meant to be ‘seen’ be players). I mention this because it means the notes should be taken with a grain of salt. Still, I feel like it’s fairly reasonable to take this particular note at face value and to believe that the thing Flemythal pushed through the mirror is the essence of her godhood, intended for Morrigan. Solas then absorbs Flemythal’s power, the spark that she was nurturing for him. Another possibility - again the possible handwave notwithstanding - is that it’s part of her own soul; Flemythal has demonstrated before that she can split her soul into different pieces to avoid death, Horcrux-style (see the amulet she gave to Hawke in DA2).

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #dragon age #bioware #morrigan #mj replies #anonymous #video games #anthem #queen of my heart #Solas

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fandomn00blr · 4 years

Text

Is it still Sunday?

Oh! It is! Tagged by @iarollane, @elveny, and @kunstpause today. Thank you!

Anyway, here’s some random unfinished/unpolished dialogue I wrote today. Just decided this was another non-canonical reunion that needed to happen in Kieran...

“What’s he doing here?!” The sound of his voice alone, echoing like sandpaper around the cave was grating enough.

"My duty as a Warden…" Alistair muttered.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing at King in Denerim while my daughter runs things?"

“Your daughter has renounced you and all of your crimes against Ferelden. If Solona hadn’t conscripted you...”

“Oh, yes, of course. I am forever grateful to the woman who forced me into a life of sacrifice and doom in the Deep Roads when I was already old enough to retire!” he cackled bitterly. “And to the boy who threw a hissyfit about not being allowed to execute me.”

I see lots of you all posting lovely Sunday snippets/art stuffs already, and it’s late, I know, so I’m tagging forward with zero obligations to @wardenari, @grumpkinvicky, @convenientcoma, @funkypoacher, @gothkimmyschmidt, @zuendwinkel, @pinkfadespirit, @hermiowngranger, @factorykat, @parera-zuul-jar, and anyone else who wants to share some stuff!

#dragon age #alistair #loghain #sandpaper doesn't echo #on the way to adamant #kieran #my writing

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bytheangell · 3 years

Note

What are your favourite ships from tsc??

All of them? All of them.

Seriously, the characters from series to series all have such great dynamics and potential dynamics and I’m not sure there’s a single one I actively dislike?! I think I had to do a top 5 recently and absolutely couldn’t pick, so I suppose I’ll rattle off a few I particularly enjoy at the moment! (and since the ask is for tsc these are all book ships/characters, not the show!) (also since I multiship the hell out of everyone, you’ll see people on here more than once fsdkljfklsd) Canon: Will/Tessa, Jem/Tessa, Gabriel/Cecily, Sophie/Gideon (that stunt with the scones will forever be one of my favorite Disaster Crush moments), Cordelia/James, Magnus/Alec, Clary/Jace, Simon/Izzy, Mark/Cristina/Kieran, Julian/Emma, Not Canon: Jace/Simon, Cordelia/Anna, Thomas/Alastair (technically I guess they belong here even though we all know), Kit/Ty (again, technically not explicitly stated canon but we know), Will/Jem/Tessa, Catarina/Ragnor, Clary/Izzy, Emma/Cristina,

I could list more, but for the sake of it being an actual ‘favorites’ post vaguely speaking and not just a list of every potential ship ever (jfdklsfjkldsjlsd) I forced myself to stop.

#when i get asks like this I realize how much of a multishipping 'problem' i truly have #because there are just SO MANY FUN DYNAMICS TO IMAGINE #i'm sure i'll remember some i forgot in the moment later too OOF #thanks for the ask!#anon glamour activated #ask rune #elle talks too much

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vanderlindemangofarm · 5 years

Note

Just found your blog and I already love it!

Aww thank you so much, Anon! And there’s no need to apologise. I love talking about questions like these! Any thoughts you may have, always feel free to send them my way :) I found this post really challenging so I hope you like it!

Gang Reactions to Arthur dying instead of Hosea

Yes, things would have been different if Arthur had been killed. No one could reason with Dutch the way that Hosea could. Losing his oldest friend was what tipped Dutch over the edge, no doubt about it (and he was already dangerously close to the edge). So even if he had lost the plot further down the line, the entire Guarma saga and subsequently Beaver Hollow would probably never have happened. Hosea would have found a way to get them out of the city and back into the wilderness. He would also have been able to sniff out Micah, therefore saving Molly and Susan. So basically, even if Dutch had met the same end as he does in the canon, so many other characters could have been saved. But that’s not to say that losing Arthur wouldn’t have taken its toll on him.

Now, onto the headcanons. Perhaps I’ll do an extended version of these with the other gang members at a later date if people are interested. For now, I’m focusing on the initial reaction to Arthur’s death from the gang members who were at the bank robbery.

“…Arthur.” Dutch breathes, not letting himself believe it for a few moments. But the gunshot was unmistakable. He and Hosea stare at each other, and it’s as if time stands still.

As the men escape over the rooftops everything seems to move in slow motion. Dutch continues to replay the gunshot in his head, over and over. He half expects to still see Arthur running next to him. When Charles cries out that Lenny has been shot, he feels numb.

When they finally have a chance to pause, to breath, Dutch does the only thing he knows to dull whatever it is he’s feeling - he starts to plan. This is when Hosea steps up, grabs his shoulders and pushes him into a seat. “There’ll be no more talk of boats, Dutch. We need to think about this properly.” He exhales slowly, rubbing his temples. For a moment, Dutch looks like he’s about to explode. But it passes.

As the men sit cross-legged in various parts of the room as it starts to darken outside, Hosea and Dutch are still silent. Hosea considers resting his hand on Dutch’s arm, but decides against it.

It looks like Bill has nodded off, but he hasn’t. His fists are clenched, his knuckles white, trying to get the image of Arthur’s lifeless body out of his head. Sean, Kieran, Lenny and Arthur. It took him straight back to his time in the army. God, he wished he had a drink.

Charles has taken to pacing up and down the room. It’s only after Micah hisses at him to cut it out that he gets snapped out of his trance-like state. It takes every inch of his self-control not to take a swing at the blonde, but a gentle look from Hosea steadies him.

Micah is impatient. He wants to move NOW. Just how long were they supposed to stay at this silent wake? Arthur would want them to move!

Javier is humming a melody under his breath. He’d never tell anyone, but it’s a Spanish mourning song.

After he’s been hauled to prison, John still doesn’t shed a tear. He can’t. He won’t. Instead, he works. He toils. He sweats. He digs at the dirt and chops wood and hammers rocks. He walks the length of his cell at night, his eyes squeezed shut so he doesn’t have to see the moon through bars. Maybe, perhaps tonight, he’ll work out how he’s going to tell Jack that his Uncle Arthur can’t take him fishing anymore.

#rdr2 #rdr2 spoilers #red dead redemption 2 #anonymous #ask #request #headcanon #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #john marston #dutch van der linde #charles smith #micah bell #javier escuella #bill williamson

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galadrieljones · 5 years

Text

The Lily Farm - Chapter 24

Formerly A Funeral.

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 | Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth | Rating: Mature

Content: Existential Angst, Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nature, Touch-Starved, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, Epiphanies, Backstory, Banter, Deep Emotions, Sharing a Bed, Swimming, Arthur to the Rescue, Forests, Abduction, Angst, Heavy Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Content, Sexual Themes, Adult Content, Canon Divergence, Found Families, Brotherhood, Fatherhood, pregnancy, Drug Use, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Protective Arthur, Minor John Marston/Abigail Roberts

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and in their desperate search for meaning together, they endure a number of trials, some small, some big, all of which bring them closer to one another, as well as to their future. But they’ve fallen in love during hard times. With the gang tipping dangerously close to a breaking point in a changing world, Arthur must make a difficult choice. Can he escape the past, as well as the outlaw life and start over, building a family of his own? With Mary Beth by his side, one thing is certain: redemption and second chances finally seem within his grasp.

***For the rest of this story, you can visit the masterpost or AO3, both linked in the replies to this post and also at my blog ^_^***

Chapter 24: The Heartlands

In any case, I have grown tired in ways I cannot rightly explain.

I’m not sure what might have happened to Kieran. Most likely, he ended up out on a fishing trip, or a gallavant that simply extended beyond his original intentions. Diana could have spooked and tossed his ass and hightailed it back to camp without him. It could be anything. Mary Beth wants to come along and I had no choice but to let her. I ain’t her father. And I know she can do okay in a whole host of situations, but if it comes to shooting I don’t know. She may be a damn good conwoman and a savvy pickpocket, but she ain’t no killer. I love her. I’d do anything to keep her safe, and in any case, I guess I’m just afraid. I can’t shake that part of myself. I fear it will always be there—after everything. She knows it. I just don’t know how to protect her and how to keep making this life work no more. And Jesus Christ I have been so careless. We’ve been. Careless. I don’t know why. It just feels right, letting go inside her like nature running its course, like the way it’s supposed to be but shit. If she gets pregnant while we’re still here, toiling in this war of ours…I’m right terrified. I don’t know what to do. I should’ve said no to Dutch, and yet, I did not. Hosea was right, as usual. I need to use my goddam head.

I just always want to believe. I’ve been so blinded by my desire to just…please Dutch. It ain’t fair no more. I’m still out on this limb, and now Mary Beth is out here with me. And if we keep making it like we do, soon it’ll be an innocent among us and I ain’t letting no more of my own blood spill into the earth. I ain’t doing that. Not again.

Dutch thinks we can get money out of this Bronte fellow. He talked to me about it last night, after that fool’s party we attended. Something about a trolley station. A poker game on a goddam river boat. I see things differently, and Mary Beth confirmed my suspicions. Of course, she did it with intelligence and grace, whereas my thoughts tend to come out as gravy these days. Mary Beth was a sight to see with Bronte. Once again she’s proven she’s too good for me, and yet here we are. We’re getting married. Still ain’t told no one—not sure why. It just don’t feel right yet to make a big deal. But I do know that it ain’t like last time. It ain’t Mary. Mary could not commit to huge parts of me, my life. With her, I was a fool. But Mary Beth’s love for me feels…honest. It’s for the right reasons. She is loyal to me. I don’t know what I have done to deserve this bounty she brings, but I ain’t letting it get away.

We are setting out to find the O’Driscoll boy as soon as this storm clears. It rains so goddam much down in this hellhole state I have forgotten what season it is. It’s perpetually the hottest it’s ever been, and I will say, I miss the fresh air to the north. She does, too.

They rode out of Shady Belle at about four o’clock. It was later than Arthur had hoped for, as this meant they would most definitely be gone into the night, but putting things off would have been worse. The rain had brought a chill to the air that made everybody uncomfortable. It was a damp chill. Mary Beth wore a brown leather scout jacket with an ornamental purple tether around the waist. It had a hood, which she kept fashioned over her tightly braided hair. Arthur outfitted her with that same shotgun from their trip to the north and a whole shitload of slugs. She wanted the gun, and it was the right choice. But once again he told her: “Do not use that gun unless you absolutely must. Understood?” by which he meant: “Do not use that gun unless you have reason to believe that I have died or will soon be dead and cannot defend you no more. Understood?”

Charles led the way to Rhodes. It was easy business, tracking Kieran at first. The clouds had gone on and most of the the townspeople were back outside and about their business. It looked like a big wind had come in and blown over a carriage full of feed corn right outside the train station. A couple of working boys were hustling to pick it all up, but the axel on their carriage was broken, and the the job looked too big for just the two of them. Arthur and Charles gave them a hand while Mary Beth went to the saloon to inquire upon whether anyone had seen a young man fitting Kieran’s description.

“He’s got long brown hair, to his shoulders,” she said, “a little scraggly, about this tall, has a scratchy voice. He would have been wearing a straw type hat, cowboy boots, dressed like a rancher, riding an Ardennes. He’s twenty years old.”

“May I inquire upon how you know the young man?”

“He’s my brother, sir. Been missing from our ranch in Scarlet Meadows for three days. Mama and I can’t make ends meet without him.”

The bartender was taken with Mary Beth. He did not even require payment for his information as he wiped down a glass with his linen towel. “I think I seen a boy like that,” he said, leaning in on his elbow. “Was in here two nights ago, waiting out the storm. Sat by himself, caused no trouble. Ordered a glass of milk.”

"That’s him,” she said. “Did he say anything about where he was headed?”

“No, ma’am,” said the bartender, topping off her glass of rose. “But toward the end of the night, a couple boys crowded him in the booth, right over there. They all left together. It was sudden.”

This was alarming to Mary Beth. “Do you know who they was?”

“Didn’t talk like they was from around here,” said the bartender. “Yankees. I heard one of them mention that they was headed in from Riggs Station, way out in West Elizabeth, if that helps.”

“It does,” said Mary Beth. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.” She finished her wine and left a generous tip. He tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted. She then went to wait for the boys in a booth at the front of the saloon. It took about ten minutes before they arrived, and she told them all about her findings.

“He said it was Yankees?” said Arthur, smoking, sitting next to her, wearing his hat with the pretty brown feather.

“Yes,” she said. “Said they crowded him and left all of a sudden.”

Arthur glanced across the table to Charles who became apprehensive.

“You think it’s O’Driscolls?” said Arthur.

“Sounds about right,” said Charles.

“What would they doing in Lemoyne?”

“Could be they tracked us here, after that nasty shootout with the Grays, then ran into Kieran by mistake, maybe took advantage of an unlucky circumstance.”

Arthur swore under his breath, looked around, smoked. Then he looked back at Mary Beth. “Mary Beth, I think Charles and I ought to finish this one alone.”

“What?” she said. “No. I got the information. I’m coming.”

“It ain’t safe,” he said. “I’ll ride with you back to camp.”

“How do you know it ain’t safe?”

“Because I just do,” he said. “I got a bad feeling. And my bad feelings got a bad habit of coming true.”

“He’s right, Mary Beth,” said Charles. “If it is O’Driscolls, there is bound to be bloodshed.”

"I ain’t scared,” said Mary Beth.

Arthur shook his head, serious. “Please,” he said. “This ain’t for you. Let me take you back.”

She stared at him in defiance. “You know what else ain’t for me?” she said. “Hitting a man over the head with a frying pan, saving your life. Or getting carried off by Murfree Brood in a thunderstorm. Or shooting a wolf mother in the face.”

Arthur sighed.

“What’s she talking about?” said Charles.

Arthur ignored him. “You near on shot me with that gun of yours in a panic,” he said to Mary Beth. “You’ll be in danger. These boys, they ain’t no turtles in the marsh.”

“Oh please. I didn’t shoot you,” she said. “I listened to you. Granted it took me a moment. But I can listen.”

Arthur shook his head. He didn’t mean to, but all this made her feel small. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Please, Arthur. I can’t sit back at Shady Belle, just waiting on you. I can’t. Don’t make me.”

There was a commotion then, as two people walked into the saloon, coming through the doors with gusto. At first, Arthur didn’t know what was going on, but then he recognized their faces right quick. “What the hell?”

“Dutch and Sadie?” said Mary Beth standing up to see. “What are they doing here?”

“Only the lord knows,” said Arthur, getting up to tip his hat and address them. “To what do we owe this fine pleasure?”

“Sit down, Arthur,” said Dutch, pushing in next to Charles. He was looking serious. “We need to talk.”

Arthur glanced at Mary Beth. She was apprehensive. A hush came on down between them all like a big old curtain. Then Arthur looked at Charles who had stuffed a fat wad of dipping tobacco into his lower lip, and he was spitting said dip into a wine glass, and he shrugged.

“What’s going on?” said Arthur. He pulled up a chair. Sadie gave him a polite but serious nod and sat down in the booth next to Mary Beth. She was wearing a tough yellow blouse that made her look like a cowgirl.

“Sadie here tells me that Diana showed up at camp this afternoon without her rider,” said Dutch, real quiet.

“That’s right,” said Arthur, lighting a cigarette. “Kieran’s missing.”

“How long.”

“He went missing a few days back,” said Arthur. “Day of the storm. We’ve tracked him through here, all the way out to West Elizabeth—near Riggs Station. Mary Beth here got the information. We think it’s probably O’Driscolls.”

“Good work, Miss Gaskill,” said Dutch, nodding. This made her feel tremendous pride. “And, Arthur, it is O’Driscolls, but it ain’t just O’Driscolls, boy, and that is the reason we are here.”

Arthur smoked. “I don’t catch your meaning.”

“It’s Colm.”

Everybody straightened up. Dutch had his whole, massive hands splayed out on the surface of the table in front of him. The room became heavy and distant all around them. Dutch had a way of doing this, making any and every space into his own.

“Colm himself?” said Arthur, shifting in his seat. “How do you figure that?”

“Because,” said Dutch, staring down at those hands. “The last time a horse showed up to my camp without its rider, it was in Denver, Colorado, and it was Annabelle’s.” Then he looked up at Mary Beth, looking sad in the low light from the saloon. It was a strange sight to see. “A pretty little spotted Apaloosa, just like yours, Miss Gaskill.”

“Annabelle?” said Mary Beth.

“That’s right.”

“You think this is a trap, Dutch?” said Arthur, tense. “You think it’s Colm, trying to lure you in again?”

Dutch puffed up. “I don’t know. But this certainly ain’t no coincidence. We ride. Tonight.”

Arthur became tense. “I ain’t riding the women into no trap, Dutch.”

“Calm down, Arthur,” said Dutch. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with just yet. For now, we’ll get as far as the Heartlands and make camp. Tomorrow morning, we head into West Elizabeth and…see what we can see. Sadie and Mary Beth can be of use to us. They can get information where we cannot. Comprende?” He looked around to wide gestures of agreement.

Arthur hesitated, but he eventually played along, sighing, finishing his cigarette and tossing it to the floor where it burned out into black.

Riding out, for a long time, it was silence. The sun started to melt off over the horizon at some point, and the air got crisper, and there were coyotes, it seemed, everywhere, and wild horses hustling out to the coast. Around the time they they were passing through Scarlet Meadows, Mary Beth rode up beside Arthur and asked him to hang back. Arthur obliged. They slowed considerably, making sure they could still see the rest of the group up ahead, but far enough behind to stay out of earshot.

“Arthur,” she said after a little while. The air was purple. It was getting past dusk now as they crested into the Heartlands. Soon, they’d need to make camp.

Arthur wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What is it, Mary Beth.”

“I know you don’t want me here.”

This broke him. He shook his head. He felt bad. “That ain’t it, Mary Beth. Of course I want you here. I always want you here.”

“Okay,” she said, looking around with her hood up. She looked sweet and kind. She looked like his girl. “Then I know you’re freaking out.”

“Excuse me?”

“We don’t even know what we’re up against yet,” she said. “Just give me a chance. You were willing to do that a few weeks ago, when we left for our hunting trip. What’s changed?”

“You know what’s changed,” he said, looking at her, lowering his voice. “I took a leap. I landed on my feet, somehow, and now I’m looking around, and I see us going backwards.”

“Arthur—”

He took a deep breath, looking down at his hands on the reins. “We ain’t been thinking.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, we got real deep, real fast, before we paved our exit. Putting you in danger, with so much goddam uncertainty? It’s making me crazy, Mary Beth. And Dutch, well.” Arthur laughed, cynically, under his breath. “Well he’s making me crazy, too. First that god forsaken party, Angelo Bronte, and now all this nonsense about Colm O’Driscoll. He ain’t even explained what the hell he’s going on about yet. Just expects we ride along with him, and look at us, doing exactly as we’re told. I’m a goddam fool.”

“You’re talking in code, Arthur,” said Mary Beth, pulling Watson up a little closer. “What the hell are you saying?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I just—”

“You said you talked to John,” she said. “Last night, before we went to sleep. Has he made up his mind?”

“Yes.” Arthur nodded. “They’re in. He’s just waiting on me.”

“Good,” she said. “He should be. You know what to do, Arthur. You need to stop second-guessing yourself. And try to just…breathe. I wanna get outta here, too. You know I do. But we gotta get Kieran back. He’s put in his time, and his heart. He’s one of us, and we owe him this. And you gotta deal with Dutch, Arthur. We can’t—there’s too much at stake.”

“I know,” he said. He closed his eyes, thinking. “I just—I know I’m talking nonsense, Mary Beth, but the more time we spend, heming and hawing in the swamps, the more foreboding the feeling in my gut. Like, the longer we wait around, the closer we get to the end. I can feel it. And riding out with you tonight, it’s bringing all that to the surface.”

“The end of what?” she said, watching him in the coming darkness. “What are we getting to the end of, Arthur?”

Arthur sighed. He shook his head again and again, staring off into the darkening path ahead where Dutch rode his pretty white horse at the helm. “Everything,” he said, real low and mean. He looked at her. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember what it felt like to be free. “Come on,” he said, opening his eyes again, picking up the pace a little. “We can talk more later. I’m good with you being here, I just—I need you to listen me, okay?” he said, switching gears, looking at her. “Whatever happens, Mary Beth, when we get wherever it is we’re headed, I need you to listen to me and listen to what I say to you.”

“Okay,” she said, earnest.

“I’m serious,” he said. “And I ain’t saying this because you’re a woman, and not because I love you and I’m terrified that something might happen to you. Or, maybe that second one, just a little, but mostly I’m saying this because you ain’t never been out on a job like this before. Because you’re a rookie, and I’m your lieutenant, and I need you to do what I say when I say it, or else we ain’t standing a chance. You understand?”

“Yes,” she said, becoming eager. “I understand.”

“Good,” he said, and he gave her a strong nod, and then he led the way out ahead so they could catch up with the rest of the gang.

She felt validated by his pep talk. He didn’t altogether know how much she aimed to be strong.

They rode till they found a good valley to camp in south of the Heartlands, not far from the lake. The scenery, even in darkness, reminded Mary Beth of Clemens Point. She became full to the brim with sadness and nostalgia. She almost started crying. The romance of it all, its highness and mighty feelings, had started wearing off, and now it was just her and Arthur, and she looked at him, stoking their fire, and she felt such love in her heart so as to help her do anything. Such fortitude. But everything seemed much easier when they were up at Deer Cottage, all alone in what had felt like a primitive world.

At some point Dutch Arthur and Charles grouped up beneath a nearby tree smoking and discussing their manly options for the next day. Sadie and Marybeth were aced out of this conversation, left to their own devices at the fire where Sadie was cleaning her sawed-off, and Mary Beth was making them a batch of whiskey tea.

"What do you think they’re talking about?" said Sadie.

"Who knows," said Marybeth.

"Fucking egos," said Sadie, looking crass. "The only reason Dutch brought me along was because I made a goddamn stink in front of everyone. For such a drama queen, he sure don’t like it when others cause a fuss."

Mary Beth laughed. "I know what you mean," she said. "You want some tea?"

"Sure," said Sadie.

Together they sat, by the fire, sipping their tea and looking at their boots. Sadie drew real quiet. She held her cup with two hands, looking down into it like it was no tomorrow. She took it down in three gulps. Mary Beth offered her some more. Sadie nodded and held out her cup.

“I hate this damn Heartlands country,” said Sadie. "It smells like fish and buffalo shit. Where are you from Mary Beth?

"Kansas," send Mary Beth.

"Do you miss it?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

Mary Beth took a long drink of her whiskey tea. It was strong and dark and tasted good. "Too many reminders," she said.

Sadie laughed to herself, sounding resigned. “I hear that."

Mary Beth looked up at the wide open sky. The clouds had exited. The stars we’re bright and swimming like fishes. “Why did you want to come anyway?” she said.

Sadie swallowed down that second cup of whiskey tea. She set down the cup and went back to cleaning her gun, polishing it with a dirty linen rag. At first, she didn’t say anything. She just sat there, sullen with her eyes downturned. But sooner or later she spoke.

“I ain’t ever known a man as good as my Jakey,” she said, subdued. “Colm O’Driscoll took him away from me. I want my revenge.”

She said this with such clarity of mind. Such purity of darkness inside her. Mary Beth could feel the whole world narrowing around them, becoming a tornado, crushing into the walls ahead. She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t even begin to understand what you been through.”

Sadie looked up, surprised. She ceased cleaning that gun. “Sure you can,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You been in love,” said Sadie. “If somebody shot Arthur dead and left his body for wild animals to come and scavenge in the middle of a fuckin snowstorm, wouldn’t you do anything to watch them burn?”

Mary Beth got quiet after this. She was listening to the crickets. She looked down at her freckled hands, and then she closed her eyes.

Sadie swore under her breath. She seemed filled with remorse by what she'd said. She realized it was unforgivable. She set down her gun and leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees. She dropped her chin to her chest. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Mary Beth,” she said. She placed her hand on Mary Beth’s hand, just for a second. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get so…mean sometimes. Without him.” She kind of sniffled, looked away like she was crying. “So angry. It makes me say and do terrible things.”

“It’s okay,” said Mary Beth. “You don't have to explain.”

“It ain’t okay,” said Sadie, wiping her tears on the back of her hand. “After Jake, up in Colter, you was nicer to me than anyone. You and Arthur, I mean. And here I am, scaring you and making you feel bad.”

“You ain’t. I promise.”

Then she pulled herself together and looked back at Mary Beth with a whole lot of resolve in her face. “Arthur is strong,” she said. “He’s a survivor. He knows what he’s doing, and he loves you. That much is clear. You got nothing to worry about.”

Mary Beth nodded. She took another long drink of her tea. It was starting to cool.

Together, they watched the boys talking under that tree.

“Is he your first love?” said Sadie, getting dreamy.

Mary Beth smiled. “Mostly,” she said. “I mean, I had puppy love once. With a boy back in Kansas City, but it wasn't nothing like being with Arthur,” she said. She didn’t know how old Sadie was, but she figured she was at least enough older to be able to understand what it was she was saying. “He gets real protective sometimes, you know? But I don’t want him to think I’m weak.”

“He don’t think you’re weak,” said Sadie.

“How do you know?”

“Because he knows you, and you ain’t.”

Mary Beth watched Arthur, smoking, listening to Dutch, flexing his jaw like he was thinking real hard. She nodded, following Sadie’s gist. She was pretty sure she understood.

That night, in their tent in the Heartlands, Arthur and Mary Beth lie side by side with a little lantern lit up by their faces. Mary Beth was reading her Yates while Arthur was drawing something in his journal and chewing on a toothpick. Outside of their tent, it was a quiet world. All was calm except for Charles out by the fire, sharpening his knife.

“What are you drawing?” said Mary Beth after a little while, turning her head to look at Arthur.

He took a deep breath, studied his work. “You,” he said.

It was a surprise. Mary Beth felt herself kind of pluck up and blush furiously. She straightened and closed her book and asked if she could see.

“Sure,” he said.

He showed her.

It was two pictures. One of her eating a peach, wearing a dress, sitting on a blanket by the river. The other one was her with that shotgun, shooting a turtle. She laughed. “Arthur!” she said, wacking him on the shoulder. “Not the turtle again.”

He laughed, too. “What’s wrong with the turtle?” he said. “I like that turtle. I like that day. I don’t wanna forget.”

“Me neither,” she said, gazing up at him. She felt that whole host of romantic dreams returning to her. Then she kissed him, getting breathless.

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