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zazzander · 2 years ago

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My Tin-Foil Hat Theories about The Sun and The Star

i.e. I read the TSATS preview and I have the biggest confirmation bias you've ever seen

(feat. all my theories that are definitely WRONG but so far no one has guessed right so I'm just like everyone else, thank you)

So the book starts with an encounter in the Underworld somewhere, because Will and Nico are talking to Gorgyra.

"Nico di Angelo, why don't you tell me a story?" [...] "Tell me about the two of you," she said.

So this is a great opening, because either this is the story they're telling or we're going to get some cool flashbacks later about Nico and Will's past. What is interesting is that, from the canon so far, Will and Nico bonded over Octavian’s death. He is, fundamentally, part of their story.

Then we go into the far less bleak opening scene.

Nico & the Apollo cabin are talking about which character in Star Wars is Nico's favourite / who he'd take on a date. I would have guessed Nico would pick someone who is just like Will - but Nico picks Darth Vader. And, sure, maybe that's just to so show how Cool-And-Edgy Nico di Angelo is.

BUT - it's the opening of the book. What is it has more to it?

Let's think about who Darth Vader is. In the beginning, he was Anakin Skywalker. He was a boy subject to a prophecy that said he was save the galaxy (bring balance to the force), but he was manipulated into joining the dark side. The Emperor (hint-hint, nudge-nudge) kept a tight grip over Anakin. Then there's Order 66 and Anakin slaughtering the younglings. But, in the end, Anakin kills the Emperor and turned back to the light side of the force.

Obviously, our Emperors are already dead. But just think about that plot. A person who was supposed to be a hero, who was manipulated by an Emperor, and eventually tried to massacre a lot of children… Keep that in your head.

Moving on! The voice isn’t a ghost. The dream-giver isn’t dead. That’s why Nico thinks it has to Bob.

Now, Oshiro and Riordan remind us that Jason is very, very dead:

Months earlier, Nico had sensed his friend Jason Grace's death, which had sent him into a tailspin of grief and rage.

So when Nico says this:

Demigods always had vivid-and occasionally prophetic-dreams, but when he slept, the voice became almost unbearable. Help me, please! it called out. I need you, Nico di Angelo. I need you. Well, so did every ghost who visited him. […] But this voice wasn't dead.

We know that it can’t be Jason. Sure, Nico might be wrong about this too – but I feel like that was would be too much of a red-herring. Nico knows what a ghost feels like. If he says it isn’t a ghost, it isn’t a ghost.

The thing is – there is a death that’s, in a way, unaccounted for. In theory, he should have sensed his death as well. But let’s look at the moment:

He might have even said good riddance. But his heart sank as the comet kept gaining altitude. It disappeared into the storm clouds, and the sky exploded in a dome of fire. [Blood of Olympus]

You guessed it (especially if you know anything about this blog, haha).

This is the moment Octavian ‘died’ but Nico did not feel him passing. Of course, that doesn’t tell us anything. It’s a dramatic ending, the book will tell us about Octavian’s funeral soon and that everything will be wrapped up nicely.

After the explosion, Piper and Jason – free-falling and unconscious – were plucked out of the sky by giant eagles and brought to safety, but Leo did not reappear. [Blood of Olympus]

Huh? That’s odd. If Octavian’s body was flung up into the sky, shouldn’t it have fallen down to the earth as well? When they were searching for Leo, shouldn’t have found Octavian? Even if it was just pieces of him? Where is the body?

There is a group funeral. But I’m very much inclined to assume Octavian wasn’t a part of it.

Octavian would be remembered for saving Rome by hurling himself into the sky in a fiery ball of death. But it was Leo Valdez who had made the real sacrifice. [Blood of Olympus]

That’s Nico’s opinion, on the matter of his death. Cleary, Nico doesn’t see Octavian as a hero. So when this happens:

Shrouded demigods, both Greek and Roman, were burned at the campfire, and Chiron asked Nico to oversee the burial rites. Nico agreed immediately. He was grateful for the opportunity to honour the dead. [Blood of Olympus]

Why would Nico honour Octavian and not mention it? Say something like “he wasn’t as excited to see off Octavian, but he did it for the Romans”. So…no funeral?

Clearly Nico believes that Octavian is dead. That’s undisputed. But – like – guys. Where is the body? Nico also thought Leo was dead at this time! If Leo got to escape, is it not also possible that Octavian did as well?

Nico talks about Bob a lot in this preview, which makes sense, of course, and I have no doubts we will be seeing Bob in this book! We might even be rescuing him. But there’s a BIG disconnect is the story: Bob is gentle and considerate – the person sending these vision is not.

They are desperate. They are begging for Nico’s help. But they seem to have decided the best way to do this is by hurting him. Threatening him. I can’t see how Bob would ever do that!

The message comes to Nico through dreams. These aren’t quite prophetic dreams, but instead the kind of dreams that Clovis used to show Nico events and memories. Only this time is a distortion of Nico’s own memories. He sees:

His dead mother

Bianca, dressed as a Hunter of Artemis, at the Lotus Hotel

The bridge at the Battle of Manhattan

Trapped in the jar

His encounter with Cupid

In these dream-memories, the message is repeated: listen. But I want to pick out a few seemingly significant moments. It’s obvious the dream-giver is trying to send Nico a message, but I also get the impression that either they are being intentionally vague or they cannot directly address Nico.

It strikes me that they are reticent to show their true form.

I highly doubt any of the people who show up in the dream are the dream-giver. So we can cross several people off our suspect list. Another assumption/guess of this wild theorising on my part is that the dream-giver is using the people in the dreams to deliver their message. They are speaking through these other characters.

Moment #1

“You have to listen," said Michael Yew, his intense brown eyes brimming with tears. "If you don't, you will share my fate."

I want to pull out this line in particular because it’s almost as if the dream-giver knows the prophecy Nico has been given. Referring to: Or your body and soul no one will ever find. Either a reference to Nico’s death (like Michael’s) or to Octavian’s body and soul being lost.

Sounds like the dream-giver might have prophetic powers…

Moment #2

Then in the dream with the jar, Percy appears. The sight of him comforts Nico, however, that is not the message the dream wants to convey.

Nico reached up to take Percy's hand.

But Percy was now farther away. Even standing with his arms outstretched, Nico couldn't reach the mouth of the jar. […] No, no! His friend was even farther away!

It’s possible the goal of this sequence is to tell Nico that Percy cannot help him. That he shouldn’t help him. That’s a big guess on my part, but if Octavian was the dream-giver, he definitely wouldn’t want Percy Jackson involved on the quest.

This part of the dream ends with a message:

“You have to go," Percy said. "Go where?" he asked, though he dreaded the answer. "We made a mistake," said Percy. "You have to fix it."

The first part makes sense, the dream-giver wants Nico to come help them. Now, what about that “we made a mistake” part. Obviously, this seems to point towards the choice Percy made to not go back for Bob. But here me out, what if Octavian is just being manipulative? What is the ‘mistake’ is that Nico and Percy both chose not to trust Octavian? And that helping Octavian would ‘fix’ it? It’s vague because Octavian knows that Nico will not save him otherwise!

Moment #3

“If this is a god or a demigod or something else," Nico added, “you’re really starting to annoy me.”

Huh. We have a resident annoying demigod…

But this final sequence is so interesting! Like, yes, all the dreams are going over Nico’s past traumas. And that’s super important for the readers to be reminded of what Nico has been through (and Will’s own trauma has been thrown in for good measure!) but this is working double duty.

"Please. Just let me wake up." "You still think this is a dream?" […] Favonius's disembodied laughter floated around him. "Look at you, still thinking this is a dream. You are so cute when you're delusional, Nico di Angelo!"

So, clearly, not a dream. This isn’t just Nico’s PTSD. The dream-giver is very much trying to send him a message.

But also, that line ‘you are so cute when you’re delusional’ – that sounds like someone who’s met Nico before. And they’re teasing him!.

He crossed his arms. "I get it," he said. "I don't need convincing anymore! I'll go to Tartarus!" That's not enough, Nico di Angelo. Look upon me.

The dream-giver speaks through Cupid. They threat him, attack him. But then they change their tact. ‘Cupid’ changes their form.

"Please, Nico. Look at me." The voice had changed. It was warm, like honey, like a late-summer sunset, like the first rush of heat from a campfire. […] Nico turned slowly, and there stood Will Solace, his golden hair lit oh so perfectly in the dreamlike daylight of Salona.

Okay this is the part that where I put on two tin-foil hats. Which you should expect if you’ve read this far. Here me out: Nico once described Octavian as looking like Will (just an unhealthy, paler version). So what if this is doing double duty, again? Nico is likely to listen to Will Solace, his boyfriend, but what if dug out a face close to his own?

“Look at me” / “Look upon me”, is this Octavian saying who he is without actually saying it?

Will shook his head. "It's more than you think. When the time comes, tell me the truth."

So, this line, could go a few different ways. But I think it might actually refer to a future exchange between Will and Nico. It’s not about the dream-giver, but the dream-giver has seen a moment that needs to come to pass in order for them to be helped. More glimpses of the future?

So the dream sequence ends! Wow! It’s intense. But I’m not actually done…

Right after the dream takes place, the Oracle delivers the prophecy. Apparently, Rachel has said this prophecy twelve times. We don’t have a timeline, but that makes it sound like this prophecy has been haunting Nico for a while. This part of the prophecy is the part I’m interested in:

Go forth and find the one who calls out your name, Who suffers and despairs for refusing to remain;

It’s totally possible that this is just a typo on the part of the person who leaked this, because the second line is pretty clunky. However, if we take it at face value, “for refusing to remain”, that… doesn’t sound like Bob.

Bob chose to remain in Tartarus. Maybe he’s changed his mind now, definitely possible. But like… What if Octavian was dragged down into Tartarus, against his will, and he’d be pretty damn unhappy about it!

Anyway – those are my thoughts. The obvious holes in this theory are – well – obvious. How could a demigod survive in Tartarus for over a year? Why would Riordan want to write more Octavian? No idea! I’m not a mind reader! Maybe Oshiro is secretly an Octavian fan!

Anyway, it was mentioned way-back-when that a male character without much exploration would be important in this book. So who knows, maybe it’s Octavian. I for one would think it’d be a very cool plot twist.

Especially if it is a trap!

Especially if we have a call back to the opening and Octavian, like Darth Vader, ends up killing the Big Bad and actually being a hero. Therefore fulfilling that original prophecy that Octavian got from Apollo about being remembered as a saviour.

If you read of all this, thank you! You’re the best!

#even if no one this is actually right #that's totally okay #because gods I love Nico #and Kayla #but especially Nico!!#he deserves the world!!#looking forward to the rest of the book #heroes of olympus #octavian hoo #octavian pjo #tsats #the sun and the star #tsats spoilers #tsats preview #nico di angelo

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whispers-of-masser · 1 year ago

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Poor Form

✧ Nebarra x human!LDB, ft. Xelzaz & Khash ✧ Fluff, maybe angst (if you squint), slow-burn with tension; 2k+ word count ✧ Mentions of blood, (poorly written) fantasy violence ♫ "Ritual" - AWAY, Echos ✒ @dalishthunder come take responsibility for this

It was the grey hour when you woke, the quiet lull between full night and the oncoming dawn. From where you lay in the tent, the only sounds you could hear were the steady breaths of your companions, the breeze rustling by outside, and the lone call of a bird, faint and dim in the distance.

Slowly, you sat up, grimacing at your sore neck and shoulders – though you had long since grown accustomed to sleeping on the ground, that didn't mean you, or your body, appreciated it. You'd have to look into getting some bed cots instead. Until then, though...

At least we stay warm through the night. The oiled leather tent kept out most of the wind, and the beasts you'd felled along the journey had long since become the bedding everyone slept on.

A sudden snore drew your attention to where Khash lay, bundled in her sleeping bag beside you, red eyes shut tight and jaw slightly parted, her sharp little teeth on display. Across from her was Xelzaz, sleeping quietly on his side with his back turned towards you; you could just make out the lump of his tail beneath the blankets. And next to him...

...was an empty bed roll, the fur still fluffed, apparently untouched through the night.

Frowning, you pushed back the blankets, habitually reaching for your sword as you rose – just in case, always just in case – and, taking care not to wake Khash, crawled quietly out of the tent.

The morning had teeth. You felt it the moment you stepped outside, the cold biting into your bare arms, gnawing through the fabric of your tunic and raising goosebumps across your skin. Your breath plumed white amidst the grey, and the dirt underfoot was cold and hard; not even the morning dew had loosened it. You found yourself wanting retreat back into the tent and burrow under your furs once more, pulling them all the way over your head and falling asleep beneath their warmth. Any other morning, you might have done just that. But...

The empty, untouched bedroll.

You squinted into the mist, eyes searching, searching... there. A figure, seated on a rock several metres away, smudged and blurred in the gloom, but glinting a familiar gold.

As you lowered your sword, a sigh slipped from your lips, drawn from some strange mix of frustration, concern, and relief.

"...How long have you been out here, Nebarra?"

"Morning to you too, guar-face," the elf drawled, and though he didn't rise, his helmeted head turned towards you. A thin layer of condensation covered the metal, droplets falling at his movement; his bangs, escaping through the visor, were damp and plastered to his helm. "And all night, to answer your question. Somebody has to keep watch."

"Obviously. But you volunteered for the first shift last night." Frowning, you looked him up and down, not bothering to mask your concerned displeasure. "Why didn't you wake me or Xelzaz? We could have relieved you. We were supposed to relieve you."

"Oh yes, a human and a lizard! I'm certain I'd feel very safe with you two on watch. Your species' eyesight is so much better than an Altmer's, after all."

Your frown deepened, brow furrowing as you stared him down. It was too early in the morning for his snark.

Wordlessly, you brought up your sword and levelled it at his throat. "I can see that gap in your armor just fine. I could kill you right now – and the same goes for whatever may have come up on us in the night."

Nebarra gave a disdainful snort, gloved hand clamping down on your blade and giving a sharp tug. Unprepared, reflexes still sluggish from sleep, you stumbled a whole two steps forward before managing to check yourself.

"Poor form," the elf sneered. "You won't be killing anything like that."

Your nostrils flared, a dozen retorts surging to your lips, but you held them all in.

He's right, and you both know it.

"I wasn't ready", "I'm still waking up", "I wasn't serious" – excuses that could get you, and maybe the others, killed. How long had Nebarra seen this in you? Why was he only mentioning it now? Why hadn't you realised it on your own, that despite your confidence, your skills, your strength – you were still very much mortal? And when had that confidence become something more dangerous – arrogance?

"...What?" Nebarra asked suddenly, drawing you from your reverie. "You have that expression again. The one where you're about to do something stupid."

"Spar with me."

"Terrible idea, absolu... wait. What?"

"Spar with me," you repeated, staring into the black of his visor. "I'm getting rusty, fighting nothing but bandits and mindless undead. This just proved it."

Nebarra was silent for a beat, his head tilting to the side. Something about the motion reminded you of a bird; the eagle-shaped helm only added to the effect. You waited patiently for his answer, wondering what exactly he had to consider –

Metal, arcing toward your sword arm.

You barely managed a dodge and a weak parry with the flat of your blade – you'd been holding it low, unready. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Clearly, Nebarra was done thinking – the two of you were sparring now.

Fair enough. Enemies wouldn't be so polite as to give you time to gear up, either. And now, for once, the odds weren't in your favour: a fully-armoured Altmer veteran with decades of experience, versus you, young, disoriented, and unarmored, only a single blade in hand.

It was thrilling.

You sidestepped another swing of Nebarra's blade – only to connect with it a moment later, coming out of the feint you had failed to read.

Sharp, stinging pain. Scarlet, dripping from your arm.

He was trying to hurt you. And you were giving him ample opportunity.

You needed to ground yourself, regain your rhythm – something you couldn't do without an opening, and Nebarra wasn't giving you any.

A glint of metal on the left – block, step back. Movement overhead, an oncoming blow – raise your sword, throw your weight behind it, disrupt his momentum.

At least, you tried. Fully armoured as he was, Nebarra had an extra thousand angaids of weight behind his swing, if not more. The sheer force of his blow knock your sword out of your hands, sending you staggering back. But the grass underfoot was slick with the morning's dew, and you were moving too fast, too unsteadily. Before you knew it, your back was colliding with the ground, and all you could see was grey sky overhead – and a golden sword coming down.

Careless.

But there was still a chance.

Contorting violently, you grabbed Nebarra's arm as the blade sailed by, nicking your face as it passed. You didn't let go of his arm just yet, though. Instead, you pulled, leveraging your weight against his, abdomen taut as you used him to haul yourself upright. Nebarra, clearly not expecting such a move, found himself betrayed by his own momentum, drawing him forward and down, aided by your weight. Gravity took care of the rest, and he crashed towards the earth, twisting even as he fell to avoid face-planting into the ground.

As he struggled to right himself, you rushed to retrieve your sword; Nebarra was already rising by the time you turned back to him.

"No you don't," you growled, charging the mer, sword raised.

His hand shot out, a ward rippling to life, though it buckled slightly under your sword's impact. Nebarra staggered, his half-risen stance precarious, unbalanced.

Now. Now. Now.

Once, twice, thrice more your sword glanced off the ward – and on the fourth blow, it shattered, leaving the Altmer open to your assault.

Metal clanged as you brought your sword down, colliding with his gauntlet as he struggled to block with it, not given enough time to raise his own sword in defense. You let the blade slide off, intending to follow up with its momentum, but Nebarra didn't give you a chance. The moment the sword glanced off his gauntlet, he lunged, catching you in the abdomen and bringing the both of you to the ground.

The tussle that followed was a blur.

His sword arcing down, yours blocking. Hilts catching, blades flying, yanked out of your grasp and his.

Panted breaths, heaving chests, grappling and rolling across the grass.

A glint caught your eye – your sword and Nebarra's, just within reach.

He saw it too, the both of you reaching out in unison for your weapons, desperate to be faster than the other.

Leather-bound metal brushed against your palm – the hilt. Your hand closed around it, drawing it in close. Brought it swiftly upwards, blade against Nebarra's neck.

At its touch, he froze – and so did you. Because resting against your own neck, biting into the tender flesh, was the edge of Nebarra's blade.

Stalemate.

Ears ringing, heart racing, you shift your gaze from the sword to the one holding it.

Hunched over and straddling you, a leg to either side of your waist, there was hardly any distance between your bodies. The beak of his helm was close enough to brush your nose; your breath fogged on the metal. His gasping breaths may has well have been your own – you could feel them, swift and hot, slipping through the gold feathers that covered his face, carrying the faint scent of wine.

Of course, he'd been drinking. It had probably kept him warm through the night – and he'd still managed to keep you off-balanced for most of the fight.

You were in worse shape than you'd thought.

That, or... maybe Nebarra was better than he'd ever let on.

"...Tonight," you breathed, staring up at him. "Let's... spar again tonight."

Nebarra grunted; you could hear the sound echo faintly in his helmet. "Fine. Don't expect me to go easy on you."

A smile tugged at your mouth – you could feel your lips crack and stretch at the motion, dried out in the cold; you gave them a brief lick before answering. "What, and this was?"

Another affirmative grunt. "I'll be sober by tonight. Unfortunately."

You snorted, then fell silent once more. With your eyes, you found yourself tracing the curves of his helm, pausing at the sight of his bangs peeking through, dark and tangled threads of gold. Something about them was like an itch you couldn't scratch, and you had the sudden urge to brush them aside, or at least tuck them back into his helm.

As your gaze drifted upward, toward the visor, a glint in its shadows caught your eye. Again, you paused, staring intently into the dark.

A reflective sheen, a gleam of crimson –

"Are you done breathing on one another, yet?"

Xelzaz's voice shattered your focus, and both you and Nebarra snapped your heads toward the sound.

The Argonian stood just outside the tent, arms crossed, head bare of its usual hood, scales shimmering in the pale light. Beside him was Khash, a shadowy smudge in the mist; her wide red eyes seemed to float amidst the grey.

"Good morning," you said stupidly, even as Nebarra scrambled to get off you.

"Why were you fighting?" Khash asked. "Did something happen?"

"For your – obviously necessary – information," Nebarra sniffed, dusting off his armour, "we were sparring. And you had better get used to it. Our dear Dragonborn and I will continue to do so, apparently, starting today."

As you sat up, you distinctly heard Xelzaz mutter, "By the Hist." When he turned his head to you once more, there was something incredibly deadpan about his gaze, an unspoken, "Really?" in his eyes.

"What?" you mouthed back, blinking at him in confusion. He only shook his head, and have no answer.

"Right... Well, let's get the fire going again, and I'll see about getting us all breakfast."

At that, Khash's gaze snapped towards him. "Ohh, Xelzaz, can I have some Hackle-lo with it?"

"Khash, you've eaten almost my whole stock."

"Oh..."

"...I'll see if I can't spare a few more."

"Yay! Heh."

"Horker stew for you, Nebarra?"

"I'm too tired to say no... but I'll watch you every moment of its making."

"Yes, yes, as usual. And what of you, friend?" Xelzaz turned towards you, and for a moment, you couldn't answer him – you'd been too distracted watching the scene unfold, a smile on your face.

"Ah... it doesn't matter to me, I suppose. Surprise me."

And so, thirty minutes later, as the sun climbed through the sky and burned away the mist, breakfast was served.

But for some strange reason, all throughout the meal, you found your gaze drawn... repeatedly...

...to Nebarra.

#nebarra #nebarra skyrim #skyrim nebarra #skyrim #i havent written action in YEARS i hope its passable #i tried to remember what my two whole gumdo lessons were like back in high school :DDD #also fyi i know ZILCH abt tes lore n stuff so uhhh pls be gentle w me on that front #i literally spent ten minutes looking up tamrielic weight measurements and then trying to convert that it to pounds and back #and apparently its only referenced in a book that appears in like four of the games so its clearly an OLD book #likely that tamriel doesnt even use that unit of measurement anymore but damnit i wanted to get SOMETHING accurate #anyway that was quite enough research for me tyvm #like mate i just wanna romance this sardonic sunflower #speaking of which i wanna give him flowers?? dont ask me why i just do #give him a boquet of yellow mountain flowers like #'i saw them and thought they looked like u'#to which he scoffs and VERY GRUDGINGLY accepts ONE #prolly tells us to give the rest to khash or xelzaz #fast forward several to months later and somehow we find that one flower v carefully pressed n preserved amongst his belongings #dont touch me i just made myself sOFT thinking about this #im literally gonna have to write it now dammit #dali this is all ur fault u have unleashed the floodgates of my garbage bin brain #........thank u :D #anyway yeah this was originally written for my ldb oc which is why the personality of the ldb here may be a bit.... specific? idk #just swapped pronouns to make it more self-insert/other people's oc friendly #anyway thank god its finally done; only took me three days #not super happy with the ending but oh well #'swhat happens when u dont write for over a year #rUST #rusty as lbd's fighting in this fic #whisper writes

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