#me: ah yes a group of scholars i love them

[onaperduamedee]

Notes on A Memory of Light

Loving the symbolism of metal melting in the rebel Andoran camp. Infighting is useless now. Only the Last Battle is important. 

Talmanes started showing more empathy because of Mat. That is adorable.

Ah, the Trollocs are locking people inside Caemlyn and the city is now burning. Everything's fine. 

Isam POV? And an insight into the people actually surviving beyond the Blight in Thakan'dar? I like that. Fantasy and science fiction excel at creating groups of people so completely devoid of humanity that they can be slaughtered by the thousands for the sake of heroism and epic battles - Trollocs, the orcs, stormtroopers. RJ didn't go beyond alluding to clans and a language for the Trollocs, and his DF are notable for their shallow motivations. Here, we get an insight into Isam, who grew up in violent lands and turned to the dark because there was nothing else.

"There was a softness to the man equal to his genius—an odd, but inspiring, combination." - oh Talmanes is "in love" in love. 

"My people live with a grave misconception of the world, Bayle. In doing so, they create injustice.” - I'm listening. Maybe Leilwin can join Ituralde and Aludra in the rebellion to destroy the Seanchan after the Last Battle.

"Nynaeve al’Meara was what, back in Seanchan, one would call a telarti—a woman with fire in her soul" - A raging sun! 

Nyn gives Leilwin a deserved earful for losing the a'dam. So far her attitude was "I did a whoopsie and need to save my ass." She wants redemption, she needs to work for it.

Leilwin's submission to Nyn and the AS... People in power cannot imagine a world without submission. If they are not in power, someone else will be and surely treat them as bad as they treated others.

Does it bother me that Leilwin is doing this primarily as a point of honor rather than genuine contrition and empathy for the victims of the empire? Yes. But at least she's not a danger anymore.

It's interesting to be reminded that Aviendha was very much meant to "train" Rand so that he understood and served best the Aiel's interest. And now the WO want her back to spying/sleeping with him. She changed; she's not going to do that.

If I were Aviendha I would just not have Rand's children instead of changing one name to game fate, but for the WO it is primordial that Avi has his children to tie him more to the Aiel. They're just as embroiled in the Game of houses as the other nations.

Bair is my favourite of the Wise Ones. (I think? Their personalities are too similar.) She's right to go investigate Avi's visions. 

"Talmanes couldn’t reproduce Mat’s blend of insanity and inspiration" - That's an accurate description of Mat. His stupidity is his genius.

"The Black Tower is a dream. A shelter for men who can channel, a place of our own, where men need not fear, or run, or be hated." - so, the BT took disenfranchised men, isolated them even more and turned them into weapons: yes, it's the army.

I don't know what to do with that Androl plot. I like that the Black Tower's politics are at last explored, but it should have been done much sooner. We're on the eve of the Last Battle; we don't have time for that.

Taim is Turning people now? This is so very bad. Also, Asha'man are recognizing that Aes Sedai are scholars above all, not soldiers, unlike Asha'man.

Aludra is the best, saving the dragons as she did, guiding refugees. Such a fun character.

Moghedien not wanting to overuse the spider motif on her clothes made me snort. I missed her. 

Moridin rescued Lanfear by killing her so that she could be resurrected? That's a way to do it. 

That platform over a sea of doomed people on fire!

Of course Graendal is punished by being made ugly and both the remaining female Forsaken are under the thumb of Moridin and Demandred: groundbreaking 

So Taim has been raised to one of the Chosen. Light, did Rand fuck up with the Black Tower.

Aww, Talmanes wanted to taunt Mat more before dying. Their relationship is really endearing.

"They’re not bloody Aes Sedai on wheels. We can’t make a wall of fire." - Aludra is hilarious. Please be in the show. I see her as Nikki Amuka-Bird.

Wait, are we really losing Talmanes? Is Moiraine coming back with Mat to heal him? 

I enjoyed this prologue. It didn't read at all like the last prologue of a 15-books long series, but the Talmanes/Aludra Caemlyn resistance was quite enjoyable

“The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, Perrin. We’ve become what we needed to become.” - Like Egwene is Siuan's, Rand is Moiraine's, through and through.

So Rand spies on Elayne and Elayne spies on Rand and Avi spies on Rand... No comment. YKINMKATOK

"Siuan would have killed for this ability, [...] How many more plots could that woman have spun if she’d been able to visit others as quickly, quietly and easily as this?" - I just love how often Siuan is in Eggy's thoughts. How relatable.

"This is not a decision he should be allowed to make alone." - Eggy is as cross with Rand for deciding without consulting his allies as she is about the plan itself. Last time, LTT failed precisely because he decided he could do it on his own.

HELL YEAH NYN CAME THROUGH AND SAVED TALMANES! Also the show did her explosive weaves already. I love these details. 

Interestingly, Moiraine must be a pretty strong healer if Nynaeve considers healing a poisoned wound like this difficult.

"I may be Amyrlin, Nynaeve, but I am still Aes Sedai. Servant of all. My strength will be of use to you." - I continue to be baffled by the existence of fans who hate Egwene. She's now linking with Nyn to help her heal the wounded.

Rand has grown a lot. He clearly sees that he cannot do this on his own and he needs to actually explain what he does for his allies to agree to his plans. 

Also you're damn right Perrin, Egwene is the smartest of you lot.

Light, I'm still pissed about the Kin. If really they must be tied to someone, I would rather they were to Nynaeve than become an army transportation service for Elayne. Not everyone needs to answer to a monarch and the Kin used to be free!

Rand thinks about people as tools, but also says he sees the people under there as well: this is a callback to Moiraine's words at the end of TEotW and TSR. I cannot stress how much Moiraine has impacted Rand's development, good and bad.

Bookcloaks: Moiraine isn't one of the main characters, she shouldn't be featured that much in the show

Moiraine: still shapes Rand's thinking after being absent for 8 books, as well as having ties to the other EF5

Have we read the same books?

How the hell did Caemlyn end up invaded though? If Elayne learned anything from the dungeons it's that the Shadow was planning to attack. There were mercenaries outside Caemlyn that she could have used as reserve. I truly don't get what her plans were here.

That said, major kudos to Elayne for not rushing in recklessly to save Caemlyn and accepting the city is lost for now. It seems she did heed Birgitte's advice. They do not have time to fall for that kind of diversion now.

"Oh my, Androl. You really don’t know anything about us, do you?”

“Honestly? No. I’ve avoided your kind for most of my life.” -  I am very fond of narrative devices allowing the big story to be told through a small window. Also, their banter.

“Let me explain something to you, Asha'man. This is my fight. If the Shadow takes this tower, it will mean terrible things for the Last Battle. I have accepted responsibility for you and yours; I will not turn away from it so easily.” - oh wow, it’s that servant of all mentality coming out at last.

"We exist to make certain that men who can channel do not accidentally hurt themselves or those around them. Would you not agree that is a purpose of the Black Tower as well?” - I'll take more of that nuance about the Reds thank you. Delicious.

"It’s been over a hundred years now. I miss my family, but they’d be dead by now even if the Darkfriends hadn’t killed them.” - there's something about Aes Sedai as curators of the Light, even incredibly flawed ones, that makes them so moving. Also, glad the books are acknowledging that longevity is truly a burden.

Light, Androl refusing to stop channeling with Pevara while they were linking was stressful.

They bonded each other? They have access to each other's thoughts? I was not expecting that. That's a way to even the scales between AS and Warders at least.

Look, I LIKE what Androl and Pevara's story is doing thematically, I LIKE the added nuance to the Reds and the Asha'man, I LIKE their chemistry, but this feels so disconnected from the main plot. Everyone is at the Field of Merrilor right now.

"Only if we had blood feud, Elayne.” - oh, their descendants will if Avi's vision is to happen.

Aviendha is definitely written weirdly around Elayne, but even another author cannot erase their gayness.

Please, no more polycule nonsense. I never thought I would say this but there's actually something worse than love triangles and it's badly done polycules. Light, I hate the way this four-way relationship is written and truly pity Rand.

They ARE rescuing Logain! I love a good breaking and entering. Also Pevara is a boss of the Vandene tradition.

Wait, how did the Oaths let Pevara answer that the captured Asha'man could not hear when she had released her shield of air on him?

Seeing Emarin trick Taim's goon is entertaining and it makes me want to read more about class in this universe: there seems to be a divide between bad and good nobles, without questioning how the good ones still wield the same weapons except they're good so it’s okay.

"If Lanfear still lives… might Moiraine as well?" - she's haunting Rand, I tell you. Lanfear is pretty much immortal and he still hopes. 

"We are drawn together, you and I. Time after time after time." - Moridin/Ishy's obsession with Rand is so queer.

"You’d rather not exist than continue to be you. You must know that he will not release you. Not ever. Not you.” - I would have cried. Rand has learnt to use words as weapons and they are sharp. The meeting with Egwene will be something.

As cute as using saidin to wash Avi is, I have such an allergic reaction to the way their relationship is written. 

I really like Rand's words about the AoL and what it means to have the memories of a dead man. I wish he would chat with Mat.

Did no one think it was necessary to warn Egwene earlier of the time for the Very Important Meeting?

I snickered at Egwene approaching Roedran, who has no idea what's happening, and intimidating him for giggles.

Rand's display with the tent was so dramatic. I love him.

"Even Elayne had gobbled up another country when the opportunity presented itself. She would do so again." - so the expansionist angle for Elayne is very intentional on BS's part.

Light, Egwene's reflections on imperialism and Rand. I cannot wait to see Madeleine Madden, who is Aboriginal and comes from an activist family, deliver this. It's going to be magnificent. 

"Would you appoint an emperor, someone to rule over us all? Would you become a true tyrant, Rand al’Thor?” - Egwene is taking no prisoner today.

Rand came prepared with the Dragon’s Peace! In exchange for his life, a non-aggression pact, the control of the Seals and the armies?

"You came, told me what you were going to do and walked away.” - That he did and it wasn't the smartest move. He has to work WITH her: she's the Keeper of the Seals. 

I love this chaos and back and forth. This is going so terribly.

OH BLOODY HELL RAND JUST EXPLAIN YOUR PLAN LIKE YOU DID TO PERRIN WHY ARE YOU ASSUMING SHE WON'T UNDERSTAND

Wool-headed idiot. Egwene may be too unbending, too unwilling to take risks, but Rand is doing such a bad job at presenting his plan.

"Light, Egwene. You can still do it, like the sister I never had—tie my mind in knots and have me raving at you and loving you at the same time.” - awwch, these two. It's the other deliciously rich relationship I am looking forward to on-screen.

"The Seanchan are our worry now, aren’t they? Peace can never exist so long as they are there.” - someone listen to Alliandre. This is The Issue.

Egwene is right: this is such a mess.

Egwene calling Berelain a lightskirt: not this again, shut the fuck up

"As you wish this of me, I will sell it to you in exchange for a legacy of peace to balance out the legacy of destruction I gave the world last time.” -  is it peace? The harm's been done already, some by himself. Not the way to sell his plan.

"His frown died as soon as he saw the person who entered.

Moiraine." - Lads, she's here!

I am tearing up.

WHY are we in Perrin's POV of all people? This is silly.

I AM SCREAMING Perrin was about to go hug Moiraine before Rand approached her.

Darlin probably going "Caraline?!? Is this real?"

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, Rand. Have you forgotten that?”

“I…”

“Not as you will, Dragon Reborn,” she said gently. “Not as any of us will." - I need a moment. I'm too emotional.

The running gag of Roedran not recognizing Moiraine, and Egwene or Grady flicking him, is just priceless. 

SCREAMING Sanderson is downright writing Moiraine as mischievous again. This is too funny. She had become so desperate before the docks.

"That is a relief, as I believe I was on a path to stilling, if not execution, before.” - Moiraine is such an unintentionally funny character. I've missed her too straight answers. 

I love the hidden pride in her respect for Egwene.

"Don’t you dare tell Lan about this,” she growled.

“I would not dream of it,” Moiraine said [...]

“Insufferable woman,” Nynaeve grumbled as she wiped a tear from the other eye. " - it's okay. It's only Nyn hugging Moiraine in my eye.

"The only one we know for certain will not walk away from this fight?" - I was incidentally thinking before she arrived that the only way to convince his allies was to make them understand he was their champion of the Light, not their general.

"Grady would know her only by legend, of course, but tales of Moiraine had spread among those who followed Rand." - she deserves it, honestly. Also, I love the idea of Moiraine gaining a reputation like Cadsuane's. It's only fitting.

"The last Age ended with a Breaking, and so the next one will begin with peace—even if it must be shoved down your throats like medicine given to a screaming babe.” - I love her so much. Why does she always end up babysitting leaders?

Hello, Moiraine's solving the issue of how to get the allies to agree to a unified army and break the Seals. She's a skilled negotiator.

So Rand appoints the people who had a habit of enslaving Cairhienin and pillage countries as enforcers? Yay.

"Then not much has changed, has it?” she asked lightly. “I believe you have often resisted doing what you are supposed to. Particularly when I am the one to point it out to you.” - Their relationship was SO fraught before, now it's so tender.

How did everyone agree that Elayne should lead the armies? I'm all for lady generals because there are NONE, but did everyone in the room forget Elayne is an Aes Sedai?

Oh wow, screw you Rand, so hard, for throwing the damane under the bus.

Again, Rand invoking order as a reason why the Seanchan empire isn't so bad is alarming. He would not be the strongest soldier against fascism, I guess. I am genuinely angry with him.

Lan thinks surprisingly often about Moiraine in his POV. Interesting. 

The assault on Tarwin's Gap moved me and it was a relief to see everyone join Lan, but it also reinforces my sadness for how thoroughly it means Rand had abandoned Ituralde.

"I’m always careful,” Elayne said absently" - stares into a camera as on Abbott Elementary 

"I won’t have one group presuming to keep to themselves and fight alone. You’ll accept our help.” - Rand was right. She's good at handling egos.

Why is Siuan not intervening at all on behalf of the AS? She's just here as Bryne's escort? I hate this. 

“To fight alongside Aiel. A day I never thought I’d see, in truth.”- aww Ituralde will get his glorious homoerotic battle after all.

"Tensions are high, but you kept us together, smoothed over bad feelings, prevented us from napping at one another. Good work" - That's exactly how Elayne dealt with Nynaeve and Egwene back in Tear. Nice. Her reaction to Bryne's pride is so cute too.

Underneath all the tonally shifting fluff of the succession arc there was a perfectly compelling arc about leadership, much more efficient than Perrin's. I maintain that the biggest problem with the Perrin and Elayne leadership arc was editorial.

Oh, the Ogier decided to join the fight. I'm not terribly fond of the idea that everyone should be able to fight. The Gardeners were daunting precisely because they were Ogier, fighting. The be-all and end-all of bravery isn't fighting.

Elayne, if you trust Perrin, you can trust Faile, don't be silly. 

“That man,” Elayne said, “is never where he needs to be.”  “And yet,” Perrin said, “he always arrives there eventually." - Perrin's defense of Mat is actually quite endearing.

"The Seanchan are the enemy,” Elayne said. “Mat doesn’t seem to understand that, considering what he’s done." - I'd say Mat understands it as well as Rand or Perrin, both of whom fail to see the Seanchan as true enemies. So there's that.

Why are they going to such lengths to get and hide the Horn? They have Travel? Did I miss something? Why would they need Faile to transport the Horn covertly? Someone can just do what Rand does with Callandor and Travel to hide it?

Anasai of Ryddingwood is one of Moraine's favourite poets and then this bit: "Each of her poems was written as an elegy. This was for her father. She left instructions; it can be read, but should not be spoken out loud, except when it was right to do so. She did not explain when it would be right to do so.” - I have thoughts and feelings: artworks in fiction tend to be very forward with what they say about characters. This is no exception. Moiraine is someone who kept as close a watch on her feelings as on her mission. She left no explanation to Lan about what she did. This elegy is also a reminder of her letter to Rand, a man destined to die, who she believed in beyond her disappearance. 

Also Lan and Moiraine talked about poetry?!?

Elayne also wants to have one of her children on Saldaea's throne. Why am I not surprised? 

Bashere is an idiot if he thinks that Elayne telling everyone she is having the DR's children would be wise. Not only are soldiers not entitled to this, but it will create ground for Elayne's opponents to overthrow her later: Rand is still feared by many and it will be seen as an access for the Aiel to 2 Westland thrones. 

Of course, Elayne just does just that immediately after.

Androl and Pevara's tale is more gripping that the LB preparations on the various fronts: it's fresh, it's different, it's a little bit deliciously weird with the double bond. We've already seen so many of those big battle strategizing talks.

"Were all Aes Sedai like her? He’d assumed they had no emotions, but Pevara felt the full range—although she accompanied it with an almost inhuman control over how those emotions affected her. " - woof the dehumanization of Aes Sedai still has a bright future ahead.

I'm genuinely having fun with Androl and Pevara's plotline, even for short scenes. I wish we spent more time with them because so far the different battlefronts are not doing it for me and there's not enough Egwene.

"He handed Mandarb off to a groom, holding up a finger to the horse and meeting his dark, liquid eyes. “No more biting grooms,” he growled at the stallion" - that was hilarious and perfect. Horsegirl Lan is here.

"Take care, Lord Agelmar. It almost sounds as if you are calling me selfish.” “I am, Lan,” Agelmar said. “And you are.” - Oh the burn, Agelmar is setting things straight with Lan. Tell him. His character development is long overdue.

Love the way Agelmar used the "Duty is heavier than a mountain" line against Lan: Lan has been running toward facility and away from responsibilities. Reclaiming Malkier was an excuse to die and Agelmar sees through him. Tenobia and Lan can both play at war for their personal heroic views.

Eggy chapter! My heart sings. 

"She was glad she had allowed the Hall to take a larger role in the war; there was a great deal of wisdom to the Sitters, many of whom had lived well over a century." - Yep, you don't have to like them to use them.

So the Amyrlin has to authorize weddings? For sisters I imagine? Or is she like a mayor in Tar Valon? 

Egwene will set up the hospital in Mayene? That's bold. It's a secluded and small nation though, so more vulnerable.

"Of course, every Seanchan was close to being a Darkfriend." - it's telling that it takes Egwene who's been enslaved and tortured by the Seanchan to label them correctly. They are a rot. And a lot of the male characters lack empathy towards AS in general so that doesn’t help.

I'm sure Leilwin swearing fealty to Egwene is supposed to come full circle but yeah. I'll hold off most of my comments until the end of the book and I see how the Seanchan arc concludes. I am skeptical so far.

I don't care for Rand and Elayne's romantic/strategic interlude. He's been with her for a grand total of 2 weeks? But they are obviously deeply bonded because they are having children together. I need the show to make them much more believable as a couple.

Also Lews Therin's memories being an advantage... Uh. Were characters beside Rand so definitive before about settling the debate whether Rand's voices are really LTT or madness? It's a HUGE gamble on their part to trust LTT’s voice. He went to great length to hide it because he doesn’t know what the voice is. 

WHY is Rand explaining again ta'veren?

There must be far more behind Rand's miracles than what he believes? He hasn’t chosen yet because he hasn’t been truly challenged. He does still affect the world negatively. The prophecies are about him saving or destroying the world after all. This implies the DO would have performed miracles had Rand fallen to the Dark. 

The Rand/Elayne date is one of the most bizarre and stilted romance scenes of the books, and there have been a number of those. It may be the point though? They don’t really know each other beyond a crush.

It's interesting to hear Elayne recognise that her shrewdness is mainly social capital.

"After all,” Elayne said, “I can defend myself, as I have proven on a number of occasions.” - she still doesn't get it, gdi. Birgitte needs to recruit Agelmar so that he gives her the talk.

"It is extremely unfair for me to have to deal with you. I wasn’t certain you’d noticed"- Birgitte has the sharpest of tongues and I adore her for that.

Oh Uno is alive and swearing!

"Birgitte hated battle planning, something Elayne found odd in a woman who had fought in thousands of battles" - yeah... How odd that a person who's seen so many battles would hate the clinical preparation of slaughter beforehand.

The only solution was to destroy Caemlyn to root out Trollocs. Elayne was so right about setting everything on fire.

Hell yeah, Birgitte robbed a queen. As she should. She would get along fine with Moiraine "I'm no lady" Sedai.

Birgitte is one of my favourite characters because she's probably the most anti-war and anti-military of the lot. It's not twee rejection on her part either: she saw firsthand the damage done by this sort of escalation. The danger is grave.

"Don’t you see?” Elayne said. “There won’t be war any more. We win this, and there will be peace, as Rand intends." - this is starting to sound like nuclear arms race. It'll lead to something horrific like the Choeden Kal being used in battle.

Yesssss Egwene getting approval from the Captain-General! She's been accepted as a Green, unofficially!

The Gateway weave used to spy on the Trollocs is clever. And I love the implications that the Greys will perfect them in the future.

They send Siuan to fetch rope. I will bite Sanderson. The show had better correct this.

Woof at Egwene insisting the Aes Sedai would not be used as reserve. She's right. They have trained all their life for this. This is their purpose.

"The Rahad had fought off every invasion so far. Light. Rand should have just hidden there, instead of going up to fight the Last Battle." - I like that. Wouldn't it be nice if the Rahad led the rebellion against the Seanchan?

Mat's acceptance of the Seanchan colonialism remains the most egregious aspect of his character. I hate it so much. And of course we get a happily married Seanchan-Ebou Dari couple because why not.

I was about to be pissed at Moiraine for saying compassion is a weakness but she has a point when it comes to Rand. Compassion toward an enemy bent to destroy others is violence to others. And Moiraine paid the price up until a few days/weeks ago.

"It will not matter,” Moiraine said. “You will face him, and that will be the time of determination." - yep, Tolkien set the big battle as a distraction because the fight would not be won there. The show cannot keep all these battlefronts.

Awwww Rand kept a gold mark as a reminder of Moiraine. Moiraine must be a mess inside.

Interestingly, Rand not seeing a reaction on Lan and Moiraine after they meet again could very well be his inability to read them, simply. I hope we'll get more than that. This is insufficient.

"Elayne taught me to rule, but you… you taught me how to stand" - Rand saying this and then making exactly the mistake Lan would make is ironic in the best way. Also Rand, you spent a few days making out in Tear: that's not a political education.

For real, even Lan is telling him to listen to Moiraine, so of course Rand tires himself in a futile attack against Taim and Trollocs that accomplishes nothing because so many leaders in these books are utterly selfish heroic fools.

I keep on being astonished that what Elayne did to Birgitte isn't considered a violation as big as what Moiraine and Alanna did. And said violation is having terrifying consequences on her personhood even if Elayne couldn't have forseen them. I get she felt she didn’t have a choice, but I’m uncomfortable with the fact that RJ introduced a concept that’s akin to rape and then created an exception where it’s okay to bypass consent.

"It was all right to be reborn, fresh and new. But to have her memories—her very sense of self—ripped away? If she lost her memories of her time in the World of Dream, would she forget Gaidal completely? Would she forget herself?" - genuinely, the tragedy of losing progressively all of her memories is one of the most poignant in the books. And she's alone in figuring out that she has most likely being cast out of the Horn and won't be reborn. It's terrifying.

Lanfear meeting Rand in his dreamshard to manipulate him one last time. Compassion is not a weakness, Moiraine is wrong about that. But Rand should be aware that it's one of his levers and the Forsaken and the DO particularly will use it.

The relationship Rand has with Lanfear, his ex from another life 3000 years back, is more captivating than the one he has with any of his current love interests. I stand my ground. I cannot wait to see them on screen with a current reading too.

"down deep, it was not Lews Therin who made up Rand’s core. It was the sheepherder, raised by Tam. " - he loves his dad so much, he’s the most powerful channeler alive and his greatest pride is being Tam’s son. 

How satisfying to see him stand up to her and be confident in who he is without being consumed by anger or guilt.

"Do not cut off your foot for fear that a snake will bite it, Perrin Aybara. Do not make a terrible mistake because you fear something that seems worse." - Edarra is so right, but Perrin will not listen and will still succeed because ta'veren.

"Within the embrace of saidar she could see the signs of color that the Shadow wanted them to ignore. The grass wasn’t all dead; there were tiny hints of green, slivers where the grass clung to life. There were voles beneath it; she could now easily make out the ripples in the earth. They ate at the dying roots and clung to life." - Eggy's an uncommon embodiment of hope: deeply traumatised, impossibly fighting, but always hoping. Her hope is bitter, righteous and real.

"He was the manifestation of the land itself." / "she felt as if she were one with the land itself" - The parallels between Rand and Egwene... If ever there was an argument to be made about the Dragon's soul being split, here's your proof.

"Egwene—afire with the One Power, a blazing beacon of death and judgment—was the cauterizing flame that would bring healing to the land." - and another parallel. Also dear light, the Green Ajah led by Egwene in battle are a sight to behold.

The Elayne side of the assault is a little vacuous and the only way to fill it is to have Elayne discuss the tactics and positions in Fal Dara. I don't care if Elayne is the armies' leader. It's getting repetitive.

At least, Egwene's side provides the novelty of Aes Sedai actually fighting. And Lan's side... No, I'm not that interested in Lan's side either. 

Even Tam is made Lord. I can get behind nobility being abolished through making everyone nobles.

Fain killed Perrin's family! I wasn't that invested in the Perrin/WC arc but it provides great drama. 

"Light protect the wetlander who dared tamper with ji’e’toh." - so naming the Aiel enforcers of the Dragon's Peace is a good idea how?

"I’m going to a place you cannot, my friend,” Perrin said softly [...] “I’m sorry.” 

“You’ll go to the dream within a dream,” Gaul said, then yawned. “Turns out I’m tired.” 

“But—”  

"I’m coming, Perrin Aybara. Kill me if you wish me to remain behind.” - This whole scene is so gay. Gaul is Perrin's Sam. They are going together to a Black Tower to destroy a magical artifact and slay a monster. Gay Gandalf exists. I love this.

"[Nynaeve] had been speaking with Moiraine and for once, she didn’t smell a twinge hateful. Something had happened between those two women." - wait, he was there for the hug so something else happened. Do I need to also write this?

Of course, Perrin is still adamant about TAR. I really like his despair at inaction though. And it's been touched on in the show already. 

"This isn’t evil, it’s just incredibly stupid.” - Light, it feels good to see the boys back together.

Loving the description of the storm as a black hole with Rand at its center in TAR. 

So it is a dream spike in the Black Tower. Nice. 

What is Lanfear doing in the Black Tower in TAR? What is Graendal doing in the BT in reality? I AM STRESSED

Toveine was Turned? These poor women. They were force-bonded, imprisoned and Turned to the shadow.

Androl weaving just a wide enough gateway to deflect balefire is supremely silly, but I don't care: it saved the day and alerted his friends.

Androl is such a refreshing character: he is surrounded by incredibly powerful protagonists whose dilemmas mainly revolve around keeping control and not hurting people. And you've got Androl who doesn't have enough power to abuse.

The contrast between Perrin naturally trusting Asha'man and distrusting AS is hilarious given that Asha'man nearly killed Rand even before Taim had started Turning them. 

Wait, Lanfear is helping Perrin? What is going on?

Lanfear is a fascinating character when she's not seen through the crazy ex lens. Perrin sold the WO Shaido to the Seanchan, Rand conquered nations in the name of peace: it's always about power. Lanfear chose the DO but Rand could just as well destroy the world if he doesn’t choose right.

Oh wow, poor Gaul. He will be forced to take in a second woman when marrying Chiad. What a tragedy. 

Seeing Androl defeat Taim's people with gateways only was fun. As a writer, it's clever to introduce regularly fun new uses of magic.

The chapter opening on Mat dangling from a balcony to get into the palace. I am laughing. Typical Mat. 

"He had not survived this long by taking fool chances, luck or no luck" - why are they like this? The self-awareness of a periwinkle.

Mat's thoughts on Rand and Perrin's heroism... He's arguably the one of the three who's the most loyal as he will be dedicated to strangers and people he hates, even if he spends his time saying he won't help his friends.

“We really are high up, aren’t we?” “Normal people use stairs.” - be glad he didn't arrive by stolen raken because he would do that. 

"Tylin and Nalesean can have a little dance together about that." - that loyalty again. Tylin hurt him badly.

"The secret, it turned out, had not been to harden himself to the point of breaking. It had not been to become numb. It had been to walk in pain, like the pain of the wounds at his side, and accept that pain as part of him." - a little better. I am still bitter about Veins of gold. It was ill-fitting to the rest of his arc and failed to acknowledge his mental health. 

"Nothing is too fine for you,” Rand whispered. “Nothing.” - oh my heart. This Tam and Rand scene will kill me.

Rand gifts the sword to Tam and practices with him: it's just a lovely character scene that strikes the right balance between awe and love. The way the fight helps Rand mourn his hand gives depth to a loss that was mostly ignored. Beautiful. If anything, this scene should have had the impact Veins of gold had. Mourning the person he was and cannot be again is an important step in healing, much more than his realization on love, that's not wrong but doesn't address his loss.

Rand and Mat united by the realization that moss lives.

I really like that Tuon is a practiced martial artist and in a completely different martial art too. 

Tepid take: grey men are overused and they lost their mystique a while back.

Mat is so cozy with Tuon: it's too depressing. I had hope he would keep his ambiguity concerning her, drawn to her but also positioning himself as a shield between her and the harm she can do. It seems we lost that. 

Also Tuon's voice is off.

"Loial, son of Arent son of Halan, had secretly always wanted to be hasty." - awwwwww, everyone knows he loves humans and would rather spend his time with them, it's okay. I love Loial's classic antihero arc. He's the Bilbo of this universe.

It's still disheartening to see all these characters - Loial, Elayne, Egwene - become bloodthirsty and revel in violence. And these long descriptions of mutilation and slaughter are justified by the Trollocs' dehumanization. They're props.

"Did you know that I used to spend hours in thought, trying to discover what that mind of yours was conjuring? It is a wonder I did not pull every hair from my head in frustration.” - wth, why are Mo and Rand so cute together now?!?

“It was not merely stubbornness that drove you; it was a will to prove to yourself, and to everyone else, that you could do this on your own.” She touched his arm. “But you cannot do this on your own, can you? " - like in TSR, he's his people. I’m quite proud it’s something I clocked as early as TDR.

Also one of the reasons Moiraine is such a compelling mentor for Rand: she's the same. She's so used to distrusting everyone but herself. Considering the short trailer for s2, the resemblance will be explored in the show soon.

"That said, I am one of the oldest people in existence.” 

Moiraine smiled. “Very nice. Does that work on the others?” - they're killing me. She knows him. And they're on the same wavelength now that Rand has stopped fighting who he is.

"You are still a wide-eyed sheepherder at heart. I would not have it any other way. Lews Therin, for all of his wisdom and power, could not do what you must." - OH MY HEART I AM A PUDDLE Siuan and Moiraine were after all his first believers.

The discussion about Rand growing! Killing the DO (and Rand finally realizing that because Moiraine disagrees it doesn't mean she is controlling him)! Their banter about Cadsuane! THE GENTLE CHIDING! The tea! I WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH TENDERNESS FROM THEM HOW

“Merely seeing if that still worked.”

“I never fetched you tea,” Rand protested, walking back to her. “As I remember, I spent our last few weeks together ordering you around." - this is seriously one of the loveliest scenes in the entire saga. Also, it’s important to remember that this Moiraine is greatly diminished: she lost most of her powers, is behind on so many events and spent months being tortured. This isn’t only about Rand’s growth; it’s about Moiraine’s perception of her power.

"Thank you for your advice. Now, and always. I don’t believe I have said that enough. I owe you a debt, Moiraine.” 

“Well,” she said. “I am still in need of a cup of tea.” - Okay, their relationship might rival Egwene and Siuan's. I'm fiiiiine

"Sometimes, she wished that weaving were easier to understand." - I always love the contrast between how others perceive Moiraine - in control and mysterious - and her POV where she is just an exhausted ball of confused despair and doubt.

Four paragraphs of Moiraine POV? Really? This is a joke, right? Also when do we get to address what happened to her in the Tower of Ghenjei? Or is it going to be like with Egwene and Nynaeve and only men get to have their trauma acknowledged?

Lan's fight scenes remain so repetitive: I read them out loud to go through them. It's 50 ways to slay your Trolloc:

You just slice up the back, Jac.

Twist in the sword, Cords.

You don't need to be clean, Seaine.

Just take the Blight back.

"If I could round up each woman in the Borderlands and put a sword in her hands, I would. For now, I’ll settle for not doing something stupid— like forbidding some trained and passionate soldiers from fighting." - Lan has no time for sexism.

Yep, now Taim is fighting on the Borderlands front because there aren't enough channelers there. Makes sense. This is bad for them. This makes me really excited to watch the show build up to this point, because the BT was not doomed from the start: Rand fumbled their management quite badly.

Mat gets into a bragging contest with Rand the moment they meet: feels so right. Also while being held by Tuon. They're just dumbass boys with the weight of the world on their shoulders. I laughed at Tuon's guards inefficiency though.

"You look nice, by the way. You’ve been taking better care of yourself lately.” 

“So you do care,” Rand said. 

“Of course I do,” Mat grumbled" - their banter is so fun. I've missed this kind of levity between old friends.

This makes me think: how did Moiraine learn about Mat's memories? Did they chat about it on the way back from the Tower of Ghenjei? Did Moiraine deduce it like she deduced so many things? Did I miss this?

Rand reasoning Tuon out of her unconditional claim on the land is so satisfying. She walked straight into that one and he gained such finesse and authority since the start. 

Mat notices Rand's humming because Tuon is a beautiful woman. Nice.

There he goes again with the Seanchan making life better for the people. Tell that to the Atha'an Miere, the Aes Sedai and the people who lost their land to the settlers. I love the blossoms around Rand being such an argument though.

“By the way, I saved Moiraine. Chew on that as you try to decide which of the two of us is winning.” - I AM DECEASED

So Rand gave away entire nations and abandoned the damane to the Seanchan. He sentenced them to at least 100 years of servitude. I'm fuming. This is such a triumph of imperialism and fascism shaking hands on the fate of the world because their strength is needed. The tragedy may be the point, but I don't think two white US authors can write about this with enough nuance.

The way Egwene leads on battlefield is so distinctive and her: it's so organized and effective. And Siuan talks! One sentence, but still. She's in charge of... Intel, I guess? Perhaps she's working in the closet where they also put Nynaeve.

Leilwin's argument about the Seanchan is very "not all cops". To gain Egwene’s trust, she could start with recognising her role in the Seanchan culture of slavery. Her nation's wealth is built on the dehumanization of part of the population. Don't get me wrong, I feel it's a realistic depiction of someone from an oppressor class trying to make amends but it's vexing because it's the last book and very little seems to indicate even the start of a change in the Seanchan mentality.

Oh, Gawyn is absolutely going to activate the Bloodknives' rings. It's going to be horrific. 

Awwww, Rand reveals himself just before leaving a battlefront to give his soldiers hope. I love that detail.

"Rand saw a gray-haired woman approaching. And behind her, a smaller figure in blue stopped and pointedly turned the other way." - that's so bloody funny after NS. Cadsuane is probably the only being Moiraine fears.

Cadsuane clocks Rand's gifts to his loved ones because he thinks he's dying. Rand pointing out he won't give her one because he doesn't care about her is PERFECT. 

Oh, Cadsuane thinks there is still a chance he survives too? Intriguing.

"You have cracks in you, Rand al’Thor, but you’ll have to do.” - She's so proud of him but she's incapable of saying it.

The Asha'man are free! But, boy does it sting to realise that Rand did nothing to help them. Zilch. He just felt bad for them.

"Lan knew what it was like to be chosen, from childhood, to die [...] to be pointed toward the Blight and told he would sacrifice his life there. Rand al’Thor would probably never know how similar the two of them were" - Oh YEAH. I like that. It would have been nice to see any of that acknowledged earlier through a Lan POV, but you know, at least it's there. Still, we get it now, after the narrative hits us countless times with how important Tam has been to Rand in shaping him. The point is that Rand ultimately isn't like Lan because he had Tam (and Min and Nyn and Lan and Mo), which is very bittersweet for Lan. To say nothing of the fact his quest for hardness instigated by Lan almost broke Rand, and the world with it. Rand, thankfully, is not his mentors.

We're getting so many horsegirl Lan moments. I love it.

Hello lord Baldhere, fellow queer. 

Okay, where is this going with Agelmar? They ARE all tired. Agelmar is right. As long as they are together to shoulder the burden, it's all good.

Does Nynaeve get something to do at some point or is she going to be as underutilized as Siuan? This is getting ridiculous. 

Cairhien is defenseless and full of refugees? jfc The great generals are making mistakes left and right.

I am in love with the image of the tempest eroding the cities and mountains in TAR. It's so poetic. 

Yesssss, the cracks into nothingness are a result of excessive balefire. I was waiting for this to happen! Consequences! I love them.

Egwene's goodbye to the WO was sweet, although it makes me afraid some of them won't make it.

"You are Galad’s brother?” - There's no drama like Damodred-Trakand family drama. Rand's insistence that he's NOT related to Elayne is quite awkward.

The ribbon for Egwene is v moving. I adore their relationship, with all its tension and incomprehension. It's a realistic depiction of friendship put through the grinder of responsibility and adulthood. It's tragic but sweet.

OH MY GOD THE SEALS ARE FAKE! NOT THIS LATE IN THE BOOKS 

"You’d be real funny without any fingers,” Mat growled. - Mat is such a jerk to servants. But that's also an excellent threat to use against men who can't keep their hands to themselves

Mat being fitted for new Seanchan garbs is giving me major NS vibes. 

Light the fact that Mat has no issues being married to someone who now OWNS Ebou Dar... It's character assassination at this point.

"If I’m going to look ridiculous, I might as well do it with style." - I hate it because he still has such zingers. 

Still not tired of the fight on the AS front. I enjoy the way Sanderson writes magic battles more than non magic battles.

"It was the middle of the Last Battle, and the woman still took time each morning to do her face." - and she's right to do so. It's called "dress to kill." I love Leane and Egwene is better than such patriarchal nonsense.

Oh my gooooooooood the Sharan attack on the AS camp? Romanda being burnt on the spot? SIUAN? Yukiri? Leane? NO! They came out of NOWHERE. This is catastrophic, bloody hell.

So Thakan'dar is... Mordor? 

"Better that one people should end than the world fall completely under Shadow." - Avi is probably the most selfless among the main-adjacent characters, but still so angry about what this sacrifice means for her people.

Ituralde cementing himself as the best general by asking the right question: Rand killing the DO could take days, weeks even, not just a few hours. Also I don't know why it made me giggle to imagine them all spying on the forges like that.

Honestly, Avi's development as an Aiel able to see the strength of wetlanders and the fact they may not all be foolish is very satisfying. She’s so much more open-minded. I would love for her to take on a more ambassador-like role after Tarmon Gai'don, not just a WO.

"You would have the Seanchan join Egwene’s battlefront?” Moiraine asked, aghast. “Is that wise?” - SCREW THIS as with Mat, the level of violence that Rand is enacting on channelers by forcing them to work with the Seanchan is mind-boggling.

Siuan POV! Thank the Light Yukiri and Siuan escaped. And a contingent of AS and soldiers! Please tell me Siuan is now getting an intrigue as the new interim leader who regains some of the respect she lost during the schism from the AS?

Blood and ashes, now Siuan's hiding her despair at the number of AS lost by claiming they were treating her badly anyway. I LOVE HER SO MUCH. She's still the Amyrlin at heart.

Siuan's faith in Egwene is killing me.

"The Black Tower men claimed that only a few of their number had joined the Shadow, and that the channeling had been the result of an attack by the Black Ajah." - oh I love this, the BT is as skilled at obfuscating their mistakes as the WT.

The whole thing with Lyrelle coming full of prejudices and contempt is nice. She's a bit the butt of the joke here, but it's important for the Asha'man to get this moment of assertion and empowerement. I hope they get to confront Rand too.

"Well, men have a choice in their fate, and weapons do not. Here are your men, Aes Sedai. Respect them.” - I LOVE that. Now, release the AS you force-bonded.

Also, Pevara is in love ? Moiraine and Lan were really the exception, uh?

"The Black Tower has learned to survive without him. Light! It always survived without him." - Rand as the absent father who abandoned his children while Logain becomes the BT’s father and paid the price is honestly a phenomenal choice.

Re: the Sharan, I'm very confused about the book introducing this late a completely different culture with its own channeling prejudice. 

Leane is alive! MY GAL. Also will be used as a messenger. Don't hurt her. 

Bao is Demandred, right? 

Yep

Gaul and Perrin hunting Slayer in TAR and finding Graendal... It's entertaining ngl? I like it better than the endless fighting and there's always the mystery of wth the Forsaken are planning.

And wth is Graendal planning with Bashere?

I hope the show radically changes how TAR behaves because the flying and fighting could look so silly on-screen. The show has done so well so far with the magic.

Lanfear is far more interesting now that she hates LTT.

Ituralde was right. The Bore distorts time. The people in Shayol Ghul could spend hours there while weeks pass outside.

As shocking as the Sharan invasion is, like the Seals, it feels like last minute plots introduced not to reach TLB yet.

Well, it didn't take long for Gawyn to be stupid and to wear the Rings. And he did that for scouting? 

The detail of Egwene using her Two Rivers tracking skills and removing her shoes to sneak out of the Sharan camp is PERFECT. Her roots!

"My authority is not drawn from my power to channel, she told herself. My strength is in control, understanding, and care. I will escape this camp, and I will continue the fight." - this reminds me of what Mo told her in the show about power.

Egwene is so used to keeping AS calm that she cannot alert Gawyn through the bond so she resorts to remembering the most traumatic event of her life, her captivity with the Seanchan. I NEED the show to adress sooner the depth of her trauma.

"Egwene had been younger then, but no more powerless than she was now. It would happen again. She would be nothing. She would have her very self stripped away. She would rather be dead. Oh, Light! Why couldn’t she have died?" - this part… Egwene was 17 when the Seanchan took her and she spent 2 months in captivity being tortured, used as a weapon and dehumanized. Her time prior to the Waste is ROUGH and even after she learns to control herself, she's haunted, often panicking when she fears losing autonomy. A lot of Egwene's actions can be understood as her not receiving any help from authority figures, the Tower, her mentors, her friends after hugely traumatic events and stepping into that role of protector, of Mother, for herself and others.

Leilwin saved Egwene from the Sharan! I actually really like that. Also I like even more that this didn't turn into another captivity arc. The next character getting captured will be tossed into the Bore.

Avi leading the assault around Shayol Ghul is nice. There's not enough female generals in these books. 

"A woman in blue, small of stature but not of will." - you're right Avi, Moiraine is a giant in will. Also, Smolraine my love

Rand walking into Shayol Ghul with Laman's sword is a choice that I love for Moiraine-related reasons. Also wearing a replica of the coat Moiraine had had made for him and a Two Rivers shirt. These are really nice details showing his growth and the influence of his two first and final mentors.

"Fortuona represented order, and she had married chaos himself. What had she been thinking?" - you made your bed, now lie in it and perish 

I take great pleasure in watching Mat insult the Blood at every opportunity.

So peach blossoms are an omen?

"Fortuona could swoop in and all of those damane would be hers. Hundreds upon hundreds. With that force, she could crush the resistance to her rule back in Seanchan." - Not only trusting Tuon is immoral but it is also stupid. Well done Rand.

I don't have much to say about Elayne's front. Things are bad, like in the North. She still insists on joining the fight and it's pretty static, so I guess it's a matter of time before she does something reckless.

"Yes, he was going to lose. But with these resources, he’d do it with style." - Ituralde is like an older more Seanchan-hating Mat and I love him. And Ituralde respects Sea Folk, which is a rarity among the characters.

Oh good, Ituralde has nightmares about Maradon, that doesn't make me even more distraught about what happened there. 

"The longer you fought, the more you saw the enemy as being like yourself." - I keep saying this but he's my fav general.

The way Sanderson writes battle scenes and which ones work or don't for me remind me of John Rogers' advice on writing action scenes: "Don't write action sequences. Write suspense sequences that require action to resolve."

“Light. It was good to see Egwene’s face." - do not hit me with Siuan and Egwene feelings now. She cares so much. 

Doubting Egwene is really Egwene, Siuan asks Egwene where they first met and Eggy recollects Siuan LIFTING her from the ground.

"You bound me with Air on our trip down the river from there, as part of a lesson in the Power I have never forgotten.” - both Eggy and Siuan were powerless prisoners denied empathy because their existence was a transgression and this rocks.

I bloody hope Egwene doesn't trust the Seanchan: even if Tuon gave her word, and for Mat only too, you bet Galgan and others haven't. 

Interrupting Rand's fight with Moridin to switch to Lan's POV ? Really? Really!?!

It's very important for people to understand that everytime a character gets into an overly detailed description of troops' movement my brain pictures more or less this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?embeds_referring_euri=https%3A%2F%2Ftwitter.com%2F&source_ve_path=MzY4NDIsMjg2NjQsMTY0NTAz&feature=emb_share&v=oskCypnfoA8

Light, the mistakes being made on the battlefield left and right. What is this mess? 

I feel so bad for Ituralde who's been at this for months. 

Is Perrin seing the Finn in TAR near Shayol Ghul? What are they doing here? Following Moiraine?

Uh, that is now the second time TAR is now used to make people brain-dead and uh. I don't like this. 

Perrin is using the Dreamspike to keep people from using Gateways near Shayol Ghul? But wasn't that already impossible so close to the Bore?

So... A few minute inside the cavern is HOURS just outside. Rand is going to come out and he'll have grandchildren. 

This Gaul/Perrin outing is rather fun tbh. 

I was not expecting a Tuon and Egwene confrontation but here we go.

"The Seanchan damane were not free women; they could not choose to fight. From what she’d seen of the Sharan male channelers, they were little more than animals themselves." - Interesting distinction, and poverty also pushes people to the army.

"it would be better if I see you not as marath’damane, but as a queen among the people of this land.” “No,” Egwene said. “You will see me for what I am, woman. I demand it." - oh, we WILL discuss how queer and militant Eggy is written at some point.

"So long as I am free from your collars, I prove to every man and woman who draws breath that you are a liar.” - Her very existence is a transgression, a proof of the Empire's lies. Light, I love Egwene. 

Mat's little wave to Egwene was so cute.

Egwene taunting Tuon with Mat's ta'veren pull was funny but I maintain that Tuon is ta'veren herself. 

"Be more specific,” Egwene said. “Tell me with your own voice, woman." - why the hell didn't she choose Blue? She reminds me so much of Moiraine and Siuan.

Bloody hell, the Seanchan got the Sea Folk on Tremalking as well. I want to scream. The Sea Folk were slaughtered in Ebou Dar for resisting. 

Tuon also wants to send missionaries in Tar Valon like the proper coloniser she is. Classic.

Egwene is doing such a better job than Rand at handling the Seanchan. She's actually renegotiating his terms and getting people released. 

This is also why Rand's attitude toward Egwene is so perplexing: the AS are powerful tools, particularly for negotiation, use them!

"Do you realize that every one of your sul’dam, your precious trainers, is herself a marath’damane?" - I was waiting for her to deliver that blow and she did! Such an incredible showdown. Egwene is a skilled, passionate orator.

How very Mat to treat this again as a both-sides issue. It is nice that he did step up to protect Egwene from Tuon, who had openly threatened to enslave and break Egwene personally not 5 minutes ago.

Tskk, Bashere isn't a DF: he's been manipulated by Graendal, you fools! All of this could have been avoided if they'd left a sizeable army in Cairhien or evacuated the city. 

Siuan has an angreal as well, not a strong one, but she uses it to help! MY STRONG GAL

"Did she think he’d let a woman forget her oath? It didn’t matter to him whose company she kept. An oath was an oath." - I am sorry Bryne is creepy and his relationship with women is why it doesn't surprise me Gawyn sees him as a father figure.

And now Min will meet Tuon as a messenger because that woman is more skeleton key than character. 

I was bracing myself for Min's inevitable repugnant and somewhat favorable views on Seanchan and lo and behold.

With Min speaking of her visions within earshot of Tuon and Tuon snatching her, it strongly suggests that Tuon is ta'veren, right? She is a descendant of Hawkwing after all and was able to resist Rand's ta'veren pull.

Here's the the thing: Agelmar being manipulated is good drama but the chess move upon chess move upon chess move are getting repetitive. 

Loial growing roots from the ground in battle with singing is just a fantastic image.

So Min should stay with Tuon to advise her and nudge her in the right direction. If she can do that without becoming like Mat, good. 

Bryne also made several mistakes: Graendaaaaaaaaal!

"You are a soldier!” Lan bellowed. “Act like one!” - character development for the ages. 

If Tenobia dies, what does it mean for Faile in the succession line?  

Poor Agelmar though. It's a harrowing ending for him. All the great generals made puppets in their armies’ slaughter.

It was only a matter of time before Mat became the true leader of the armies, so Tuon's move to name him their Seanchan general was expected. And given what's happening with the other generals, he’ll replace Elayne soon.

"Mat had tried to make her say she saw a hat floating around Mat’s head. That would persuade Tuon to stop trying to get rid of his, would it not ?" - okay, I laughed.

“With that, thousands of bottoms hit their saddles, producing a slapping sound that reverberated across the legion, and each soldier sat at attention, eyes straight ahead" - ass cheeks clapping like a Seanchan legion does have a ring to it.

Min, Mat, Rand... They spend more time admitting that the Seanchan are organized and train well than condemning their atrocities. It's so bizarre. 

Mat took a damane prisoner. I'm just... I want to cry. They are killing my boy.

Not really fond of the way that the great generals were all ousted by random men rather than Egwene (shrewd politician with expertise in Dreams), Siuan (an actual spymaster and Bryne's partner) or Elayne (the armies' leader trained in the Game of Houses).

Elyas is in the Wolf Dream!

Also five days since Rand walked into Shayol Ghul... Hello, this is long. I want them to come out and it's been 3 years. 

Yay, for Perrin figuring out what happened to the generals on his own even if it's too late!

"Nynaeve closed her eyes. Moiraine stared straight ahead as if determined not to look away, no matter the price." - I don't know who's braver for it. I love them. 

Rand's POV are too short! Obviously it's bc of the Bore but it's frustrating!

"We sent ourselves,” Logain said." - nothing more satisfying than seeing a character I suspected could become legendary live up to their potential. I am so proud of him. 

Of course, Androl is the miracle with his impossibly large gateways.

Elayne's wonder at the full circle is bittersweet: Aes Sedai, Asha'man, we're here at last and it's glorious! But also it's a reminder of how binary the magic system is. It's still so exciting and gratifying as a symbol of healing!

"How do you handle so much of the One Power? How do you keep it from consuming you alive, burning you away?” - between that and what Androl did when he tapped into Pevara's power, it's probably a good thing he isn't more powerful bc he has issues

"Three thousand years ago the Lord Dragon created Dragonmount to hide his shame. His rage still burns hot. Today… I bring it to you, Your Majesty.” - the gateway straight into the heart of Dragonmount is the most badass feat of channeling.

"One miracle, my Lord,” Androl said, voice soft, as if strained. “Delivered as requested. That should hold them back for a few hours. Long enough?” - he's the Avi of the Asha'man, so wholesome.

Uno survived the attack by stripping to swim in the river! I love his weird little experience.

Min answering “Oh. Yes. I suppose you have" to Eggy because she forgot about her captivity with the Seanchan is so callous. This, plus her attitude towards Siuan during FoH, her dismissal of Birgitte after the poly-bonding and Rand in the context of the polycule? Nope. Don't like. Past a certain point, her IDGAF attitude becomes jerkiness, like Mat.

Ituralde's disoriented POV! That was missing in this corruption arc. And he exited dragged away by wolves! 

Egwene reflects on Mat treating her like a painting but always saving her, and concludes that of course she trusts him: it's a real, moving moment showing they still care deeply about who they were, but most importantly who they became.

"People who started to drown didn’t yell, or sputter, or call for help. They just slipped under the water, when everything seemed fine and peaceful. Unless Mat was watching." - that gets me okay. He looks after his friends.

"So which was this? Was she drowning or not?" - I love how much Sanderson is embracing Egwene's trauma and how it affects her ability to assess the risks she's taking. She has been drowning for a while and no one has noticed.

"It was better than her fighting for the Shadow, wasn’t it?" - Mat will not even remain in my top ten if this goes on. The argument that people enslaved are somehow saved from a worse fate is a white-supremacist one.

Demandred with his orientalist cosplay and raving about the Dragon is starting to feel like the most ridiculous of the Forsaken. He's a formidable enemy but he's the most buffoonish of the Forsaken by miles.

Tuon uses Min's visions exactly like Elayne, believing they are a protection against death, except she straight up sends people to their death.

For the twist, I hope Min is massively wrong about one prediction before the end.

"That fellow spent entirely too little time looking at women. He was shy around them, Talmanes was." - leave him be, he's gay. I will fight Sanderson because he labels random characters as gay and the gayest characters (Elayne, Avi, Talmanes) are not.

At least Min stands her ground: people should not be executed for intentions but light, is she naive about this Seanchan counselling and how she can both survive this ordeal and truly help the Seacnhan’s victims. This is way over her head. Mat, for all his foolishness, is better equipped.

How long exactly has Elayne been pregnant at this point? It feels like it's been 3 years, but logically she's 6-7 months along? The show better do away with it or shift timelines. It's not like BS is writing in-depth about motherhood anyway.

I'm no army tactician and even I could have told them that the solution was to have one front rather than 4. 

Trom's uniform soaked through with blood is such good imagery. The Children of Light are dressed like Red Sisters.

Galad has such an interesting arc as a zealot starting to see nuances of grey. Both Gawyn and Galad basically entered militias, and Elayne herself is depicted as rather expansionist in these last books. Could it be Elaida's influence? Bryne’s?

Tam and Elayne are wrong: this wasn't a victory. People are not a price to pay for peace. I'm surprised that Tam thinks that, even if I do see the point in giving meaning to death. Galad's desperate protest thats it is a lie is quite moving and true to the character.

"If you knew my life,” Slayer said, “you’d howl. The hopelessness, the agony… I soon found my way. My power. In this place, I am a king.” - I do hope the show keeps evil Lan. It's important to depict why people who chose the dark did so.

Laras is managing the Tower and novices while the Aes Sedai are away! I love the way this is echoing the beginning of NS with the Aiel war. Also Faile ending up with the Horn for safekeeping is PERFECT. Full circle. She deserves to be the protector of the Horn.

"the Six-Story Slaughter and Hinderstap" - Iove that the Band has lore. 

Aravine's past is too much of a secret not to be important soon. Where's Bawler when you need him?

I'm sorry Olver's uncles are giving me such strong found family feelings. I love the Band.

An attack was to be expected on the caravan getting the Horn but dear Light, Berisha sent them to the Blight as an escape? Faile has the worst luck.

So the red-veiled Aiels are all the male channelers the Aiel sent out to die. That's absolutely harrowing actually. The ostracization of their own created their own monsters. Avi understands just how much of a reckoning the Aiel have coming.

Cadsuane MVP with that heart-stopping weave. I'm surprised she could even do that since Avi was the one in danger. Sanderson seems much more lax with the third Oath.

Why are they not using the copies of Mat's medallion to protect the generals?

Setalle suspects Berisha might have sent them there with intention, good or bad. Is it even possible Berisha overshot her Gateway? 

Of course Faile figures out Setalle pretty quick: she's so sharp and I love her for that. Setalle being an Aes Sedai who burnt out though… OOF

"The Horn of Valere, lost in the Blight. A nightmare." - That's ironic since it started there.

Sarene was taken by Graendal? For what? Is Graendal the one who took Alanna? Where is Alanna? 

Light, the Aes Sedai are getting slaughtered.

The Blight is FUN. I love a good horror setting. 

Liking this Avi/Cads combo. They're not unlike one another in their one-mindedness and it makes sense they would protect Rand against the Forsaken trying to get to SG. Although I'm surprised none showed up so far.

Not Vanin and Harnan stealing the Horn! 

"I am not spending the Last Battle clinging to a rock! she thought. Not the same one the whole time, at the very least." - Nyn is as pissed as I am about Mo and her being relegated to glorified batteries.

Alanna is trapped in Shayol Ghul because of Moridin, bleeding out? WHY DID NO ONE THINK ABOUT THIS BEFORE? HE’S BONDED TO FOUR WOMEN WHO COULD ALL BE CAPTURED At least Nyn will save the day. 

I LOVE the fact that Merrilor is situated at the fork of two rivers. It's perfect.

I'm also glad everyone saw reason and made Mat the commandant general at last. He's worth 100 great generals. Elayne is good at organizing people but we need the genius of a single mind. 

Also, unrelated, but does Mat have memories of women? IS HE THE DOCTOR?

I love this moment between Eggy and Mat before the battle where they act like an odd mix of siblings and leaders, even if Eggy still sees him like a rambunctious little brother and he like a girl pal to protect. It’s a rare last moment of ingenuity before the end of the world that doesn’t feel naive either. They’re both changed and there is no coming back.

The Last Battle chapter gets an epigraph from Loial! 

Deafening the guards with thunder to save them from Draghkars was very clever. Well done, Elayne. 

"Why was his hat banded with pink ribbon, though?" - I would love for anyone to address Mat’s rape properly. This is so disturbing.

Mat is right to keep his plans to himself though. Between DF, Forsaken using compulsion and dreams, Turning, the Seanchan plotting, I would not trust anyone... right, I'm beginning to feel like Moiraine. Mat must certainly think like her now.

The joy of this part comes from characters meeting each other or working together for the first time: Setalle and Faile, Uno and Talmanes, Lan and Tam, Avi and Cads... 

Demandred is still bellowing for Rand. This got old fifty pages ago.

Like Birgitte, like Moiraine, Logain’s POVs are a rarity but his mind and experience are endlessly mesmerising. He IS a bad guy, turned to the light to help, except he wouldn't have been a bad guy had people known how to handle male channelers in the first place.

"When every breath had encouraged him to find a knife and slit his own throat." - Like Owyn. The strength it took Leane, Siuan and him to go on in TFoH stupefies me, truly. 

Logain is in charge of recovering the Seals from Taim feels so RIGHT.

"Was this what you wished for, his mind whispered, when you raised the banner of the Dragon? When you sought to save mankind? Did you do it to be feared? Hated?" - his role as false Dragon is so interesting: how was he different from Rand? But in the end he is leading the male channelers to battle and facing the Dark One’s armies.

Logain realizing he cannot be sure of Gabrelle: buddy, you captured and force-bonded her. Did you really think she would not do anything to survive? 

Tam POV! Why are we getting so many random men's POV? I like Tam but come on, this is a lot of the same types of character. 

Pevara and Androl remain very cute, okay? I love their banter and fun things are happening magic-wise with them. That double bond could lead to an abolition to the binary magic system and I am here for it.

Coincidentally, Mat and Talmanes have a secret language of their own. Band lore, again.

I love the carrier raken system set up. It's so dramatic but effective. 

HOLY MACKEREL the opening credits of the show are actually a depiction of what Rand's mind conjures when he tries to picture the Pattern during his fight with the DO?!?

Rand's first vision is basically how Isam and the people in Thakan'dar live currently. 

Dreadlord Nyn would be terrifying and so twisted. I do love that even in this dark reality Moiraine is enough of an outcast to be executed.

Of course, Gawyn heads up straight toward Demandred without telling Egwene or anyone. In a way, the devolution is pertinent: he promised to obey Egwene, but the call for heroic sacrifice is too great. Toxic masculinity will kill him. It’s well done.

"Siuan nodded, approval—even pride—in her expression. Egwene was Amyrlin; she had no need of either emotion from Siuan, and yet it lifted a little of her grinding fatigue." - have I mentionned I love them with all my heart? Truly prime duo.

And another Rand/Egwene parallel: Moiraine "found" them both in the Two Rivers. In their search for the DR, Siuan and Moiraine also found the one who would break and save the White Tower and guide them to the Last Battle.

"And if a woman were to wish for a legacy, she could not dream of greater than one such as you. Thank you." - okay, now I'm crying. Siuan went from losing everything, her name despised, to finding the greatest legacy in Egwene. Egwene is Siuan’s.

I'm glad Egwene sent Siuan to do what she does best for once, finding spies, studying people. 

I really hope the show embraces their relationship with all its thorns and fondness because it's a fantastic mentor/student one between women.

Demandred is so obsessed with Rand he cannot conceive anyone but Rand leading this assault: it seems such a preposterous blind spot for someone supposedly clever. 

Faile plans to sneak into the supply station and use the enemy's Gateway? Hell yes! She's so smart. 

So Perrin is recovering in Berelain's palace with Uno. That's such a delightful combination. And Luhann saved him!

Right... Perrin left Gaul in the Wolf Dream, didn't kill Slayer and didn't stop the generals save maybe Ituralde... 

The Asha'man and AS still have so many prejudices. It'll take some time after TLB before they truly understand each other.

"I’m trying to read that thought,” Pevara said. “Did you just… compare me to an old strap of leather?” - Androl, gilf lover. They are Adorable together. 

I am still wondering what the hell their story does in this book but I like them.

If Androl and Pevara are the ones to find the Seals, I'll be okay with that. Their plan is so goofy, fooling around with mirrors of mist in the enemy camp. At least they are together and none of them is pretending to be a Forsaken.

Graendal took Rhuarc? What is going on with the Forsaken who are not Demandred? Where's Moghedien? Cyndane? There are too many threads flying around.

Seanchan is still part of Rand's utopia? I get it, he wants them to be part of tomorrow's world, and not all of them were slavers, but still, it's so tone-deaf because as they are, they slaughtered, enslaved and dispossessed countless people.

Awwww Perrin's granddaughter, the Ogier, the school! Rand's dreams about building a better world are so HIM. 

Silviana was prepared to take on Gawyn's bond?! Egwene's inspires such devotion, it's a bit dizzying.

"It’s like a hole inside of me, Elayne. A deep, gaping hole. Bleeding out my life and memories.” - Birgitte's fate is so absolutely heartbreaking. Her despair is hitting hard as well because she’s been so strong.

Giving the medaillon to the WC IS unwise, but who cares about the after? No one.

Mat running away with Tuon is not the same as dismantling the Seanchan Empire. That's only letting another Empress take her place. 

Oh bloody hell, Siuan's saved Min by stopping the heart of a Sharan channeler! That was hot.

And of course now she runs into a burning building to save Mat like her uncle Huan did for strangers. ... Siuan... no I knew it was going to happen but Light that was sudden. It's a blink and you'll miss it moment.

I also hate deaths caused by the idiot ball. RJ's Siuan would not have made such a gamble; only Siuan "dumbass energy granted by BS" Sedai would. This accomplishes nothing. It's a pointless "she should have listened to Min" moment.

"how could affection thrive beside the burning passion that was his hatred for Lews Therin? " - gay. that's so gay. The Forsaken are just a bunch of raging queers. 

This diffraction of POV is grating. Too many short POVs succeeding.

"The man would hold back and deliberate, worrying over his decisions, until boiling forward in a reckless military action." - accurate, but that was Lews Therin, this is Rand. 

I say the thing about POV and my guy Juilin turns up. Go Juilin!

The WC used to butcher AS's corpses and cut them into pieces for fear they would rise again like vampires? I did not need that information. Scalding take: the AS were never respected; they were feared because they were not considered human.

Did Pevara need to out Emarin in the middle of a break-in? 

Galad carrying his brother's body, hoping to save him, thinking that Elayne hadn't loved him. You know what, Gawyn was a fool and the tragedy is that he reverted back to his childish self 

and it costs him is life.

Oh fuck, Egwene losing the bond is rough. She's absolutely drowning now.

Tam as it all started, fighting. 

I'm confused, wasn't the threat that the DO would break the wheel and end everything? When did it become a tyrant robbing people of their morality?

"Ride out there and die for really no purpose? Or come try to keep me alive for your Empress." - Mat is Moiraining Karede into not wasting his life. How fitting. He did start seeing people as tools too. Nyn is the only one left who don’t.

"I had long wondered,” Lan said to Tam. “About the man who had given Rand that heron-marked blade. I wondered if he had truly earned it. Now I know.” - That was cute. 

"Siuan.… Siuan had always been so strong." - Strongest person Eggy knew.

Thank the Light Birgitte is here because Elayne still has 0 sense of self-preservation. 

I adore the idea of Galad facing Demandred! The irony of Demandred dying by Rand's brother blade, unable to channel at him! 

Oooooooh Loving Nyn healing Alanna with needles and herbs because Rand is leading the circle. Moiraine is just chilling apparently? 

(what if Moiraine felt Siuan die and is in shock? I know it's not that but listen...)

Bashere and Deira were this close to invite Mat to a threesome because he yelled at them.

"Only they would probably hear it all the way up in the Blight, too." - That's funny because the Horn is currently in the Blight!

Loial! I'm still so gutted that the Ogiers of all people had to turn into beasts hacking at Trollocs for TG. There are other ways. 

Aww Teslyn and Mat reunion on the battlefield! Why does Mat have so many wholesome relationships with women?

"Egwene al’Vere can grieve,” Egwene said, standing up. “Egwene al’Vere lost a man she loved, and she felt him die through a bond. The Amyrlin has sympathy for Egwene al’Vere, as she would have sympathy for Egwene al’Vere, as she would have sympathy for any Aes Sedai dealing with such loss. And then, in the face of the Last Battle, the Amyrlin would expect that woman to pick herself up and return to the fight." - That hurts. And the echoes with Rand and LTT!

"I forget how young she is.” - she is so bloody young. 19? 20? 

Egwene bonded Leilwin!?! EGWENE MY GOD STOP FOR A SECOND YOU CANT SOLDIER ON THROUGH A TRAUMATIC EVENT BY RETRAUMATISING YOURSELF

The Androl disguise used by Taim on Androl to kill Logain is a bit silly, but I'm okay with Pevara and Androl taking on the Wondergirls and Mat-Thom mantle of shenanigans. The rule of cool prevails.

"Together, their forces moved upriver in the night, leaving behind the fighting Andorans, Cairhienin and Aiel. Creator shelter you, friends, Arganda thought." - Rand, with Moiraine's help, really did it. He united all nations in this fight.

WHY are we even getting an Arganda POV here? We are drowning in men POV. 

"You surrender when you’re dead. Many a man has been given less.” - Not NS feelings. Look, we're not getting a Lan/Moiraine convo, so I'm taking what I can.

Here for Rand's utopia turning into a nightmare where people's agency is removed. The S1 finale is also echoing SO MUCH of the Last Battle. It's so satisfying. Mat wondering who's setting Sharans on fire. Probably Eggy and Vora's ter'angreal.

Aravine?! A former DF? Who tried to escape?!? And fell back to the shadows?? SO MUCH IS HAPPENING 

Olver stabbed the channeler?!? I wasn't expecting to like Olver as much as I do but Mat's son is such a brave little guy.

Leane fighting! I agree it's so satisfying to see how strong and united the Aes Sedai are now after fumbling for so long. 

Egwene came through and is unleashing Hell on taim and his channelers! 

Talmanes is in a cave rebuilding dragons with Aludra? So many chess pieces around.

Bela is the MVPest of them all. 

HARNAN AND VANIN WERE TRYING TO STEAL MAT'S TABAC JUSTICE IS SERVED 

Faile killed Aravine and gave the Horn to Olver! And is using herself as a decoy?!? Light, I love her, she's so quick.

Love Logains's thoughts on vengeance and how empty it is for him now: he is arguably at the height of his glory, leading the Asha'man into TLB. What could revenge bring him? 

Logain Ablar, keeper of the Seals by interim. I like the sound of that.

"Egwene led an assault the likes of which had not been seen in millennia." - I'm so proud of and so afraid for her. I get why she chose the Green now. She has the heart of Aiel, she's justice on the battlefield itself.

Light, Egwene is facing Taim now, a newly raised Forsaken. This leadership triangle between Taim, Logain and Egwene, where Eggy and Logain swapped roles, is delicious. 

Eggy is so sharp for redirecting lightning with iron rods like that.

A little bit of closure for Ila and Raen! Also we get insight into the Tuatha'an in relation to the Aiel: if the Aiel are struggling to envision a future with the the Dragon's Peace, what of the Tuatha'an in the middle of all-out war?

Bela died! Olver has the Horn! Is this rugby? 

Major kudos for allowing Egwene to be this angry and unhinged on the battlefield. I've said it before but she has a rather masculine arc, despite being depicted as very feminine. I love that.

Hurin is also fighting for Rand! 

Light, Berelain has a good head on her shoulders because I would be overwhelmed in her place. 

Galad lost a hand like Rand! This truly is the chapter of all the payoffs and parallels.

Annoura saved him, burning herself out for a WC! It's also so loyal of her. My Berelain/Annoura shipping dreams may not be dead. 

Rand is watching everyone die! Bashere! Deira! Hurin! Rand weeping for Siuan! Nonononon I don't want to cry now.

That "Aes Sedai ridgecat"? He's talking about Egwene? This is so funny. Taim cannot even contain her and needs the help of Demandred's ter'angreal to deal with her. I get such a kick out of seeing them underestimate her.

Of course, it's Mellar who kidnapped Elayne. HE BEHEADED BIRGITTE?!? And now he's trying to cut out Elayne's babies? I KNEW HE WAS GOING TO BE A PROBLEM WHY 

However horrific, that would have been an interesting twist to Min's vision, ngl

"OUR ACCOMMODATION IS NOTHING?" - that made me laugh. The phrasing is just peculiar. 

Yesssss, give me Rand being tempted by nothingness: he has suffered so much. Nothingness would be peace for all and himself.

The way Min uncovered the spy and the compelled Seachan general was really neat. Siuan would have been proud. 

The Aes Sedai falling dead because the others who had saved them had been balefired? How did the world even survive the Breaking?

Eggy bloody countered balefire?!? She's healing the effects of balefire on the land? THE FLAME OF TAR VALON 

She released Leilwin just before... I'm sobbing, crushed. 

Light but that description was beautiful and peaceful. She did find peace.

She took all the Sharan channelers with her. They lost half the Aes Sedai. HALF. It's too much. How is this fight still going? Don't you dare saying that Aes Sedai aren't servants of all after that.

"Not without Egwene, her Two Rivers stubbornness, her iron backbone. Not without a miracle." - YOU SAY IT MAT SHE WAS IRON. 

Also, he was tasked with saving her from the AS... She saved them all. 

The miracle will be Olver.

“I sure am growing tired of that man,” Mat said. - we all are. He's frankly annoying. 

"He pretended that he would still write the story. There was no harm to such a little lie." - Awww, Loial. Also, it's sadly reminiscent of Jordan.

So Lan learned nothing and decided to go fight Demandred on his own, leaving his army leaderless in a suicide mission as foolish as Gawyn’s and Galad’s. What he said Tenobia shouldn't do. What Agelmar told him was selfish. 

I'm glad he got his pivotal badass moment, but that's still a regression for his character?

"I am just a man,” Lan whispered. “That is all I have ever been.” - The man who as a nation.

I'm not entirely sure it's fitting as he has no real connection to Demandred and isn't an underdog, but Demandred is also such an awkward villain.

"How could a man just… let go? Wasn’t that letting go of responsibility? Or was it giving the responsibility to them?" - Rand learnt from Tam that loving people is sometimes letting them go. It's an epic about growing up and parenting truly.

"Am I not allowed to be a hero, too?" - that broke me. Rand is no longer dreaming about Iliana, no longer hearing LTT. He is hearing Egwene's voice. My sobbing had stopped at that point and it came back with a vengeance with that line.

I know the woman cast down from her throne is Morgase, but listen, it should be Siuan. She was instrumental in finding and supporting Rand and it cost her the Amyrlin Seat, her powers, her life. This is her story as much as Moiraine's.

"It was about a woman with a secret, a hope for the future. A woman who had hunted the truth before others could. A woman who had given her life, then had it returned. That woman still fought." - stunning. I love Moiraine a normal amount.

"It was about a woman who refused to believe that she could not help, could not Heal those who had been harmed." - you bet Nyn will never give up protecting and helping people. I love her so much. 

The man who lost his family is Perrin, right?

"It was about a woman who would not bend her back while she was beaten, and who shone with the Light for all who watched. Including Rand." - A literal beacon of light. Her journey was glorious. I'm not even cross it ended how it did. It was a good ending.

"It was about them all." - I am fine. Such a satisfying conclusion to an ensemble saga. The Forsaken may have been there to make him give up, but there were always people fighting, sometimes alone. It all comes back to Moiraine's seminal TSR speech: "I fight for you,’ Moiraine said before Egwene could open her mouth, ‘as does Egwene.’ A look flashed between the two women. ‘People fight for you who do not know it, any more than you know them. You do not realize what it means that you force the form of the Age Lace, do you? The ripples of your actions, the ripples of your very existence, spread across the Pattern to change the weave of life-threads of which you will never be aware. The battle is far from yours alone. Yet you stand in the heart of this web in the Pattern. Should you fail, and fall, all fails and falls." - The Shadow Rising, C57 It's always been about them all.

Birgitte was not cast out the Horn and has her memories back! That's a hell of a miracle. The Heroes at last are called by Olver! I'm good with him sounding the Horn. It feels satisfying enough and Noal came back as a hero to save him.

Re: Elayne losing the bond, is this how Moiraine experienced the bond snapping though? Because between what we know of Egwene and Elayne's experiences, I dread to think what it was like to go through that while being tortured.

"But you’re still my friend. Will you ride with me?” - That was cute. I'm sad she never got to see Mat again. 

Oh Light, I forgot Darkhounds existed. There is something as too many Shadowspawns at once and this is what my brain is experiencing.

Avi, Cads and Amys against Graendal? That's a showdown for the history books. 

"I’d feel like I needed to bloody move to another country, [...] one where the monarchs don’t have pudding for brains.” - tbf, Elayne is young and reckless. She’ll grow out of it.

MAT USED THE PEOPLE FROM HINDERSTAP TO FIGHT! BLOODY GENIUS OF A MAN

And Grady is unleashing the river Mora on the battlefield... Good for him for making it this far. 

Androl and Pevara are such chaos agents, ignoring Logain’s orders like that.

Moghy was the servant Seanchan spy! And is now disguised as Demandred. I'm listening... 

Light, the gateway and dragons combo to fire securely on the enemy is a smart move. Magic is meant to be used in fun and new ways each time.

I'm glad Sanderson didn't forget how ridiculously strong Talaan and Alivia are. Alivia is also a trained soldier. 

Avi killed Rhuarc under compulsion? Avi will need to process so much once this is done, she's going to need a lot of support.

Alviarin is still kicking and shooting for the Chosen seat. You do you. Rand is a trap though, I bet it's Pevara. 

It is Androl! And now they are prisoners in the Stedding. I like that. It's like a kinder Bore and sets up Ogiers as guardians.

I love the image of Merrilor partially turned into a field of glass and about to shatter. 

I love that Logain isn't good. He's still seeking more power, dominance. But when he's told refugees are dying... The BT has responsibilities now.

Master Luhann's pep talk to Perrin was interesting in the way it recalibrates his arc: by making it about fear of oneself rather than leadership rejection, it complements the wolf arc rather than being a stepping stone on his wolf journey.

Sometimes what people consider an AS answer makes me think none of them have ever talked to anyone. I don't know what Perrin wanted Masuri to say here. 

Thom spent TLB sitting on a rock outside Shayol Ghul, composing, smoking tabac. Perfect.

"She stared at the end of the world, with grit and determination." - That's Moiraine for you. 

"Rand deserved it. Moiraine, too. This would be her victory as much as it was his." - And Siuan's. It's been their fight for 20 years.

I still can't believe Moiraine and Nyn have so little to do. It's a waste of their characters. I get what they do is crucial, but like with the Cleansing, they are batteries. 

I clapped at the Black sister pretending to be Cads, getting stabbed by Thom and thrown into the DF pit.

The storyteller figures - Moiraine, Loial and Thom - are fascinating in their different journeys: Thom as the storyteller who ends up writing a story; Loial as the antihero living the story to record it; Moiraine as the storyteller trapped in a story.

Poor Grady being traumatised by the rage zombies from Hinderstap. 

So Fain dissolved part of himself into Shaisam and now he's something akin to Mashadar? Not weird at all. 

I can't believe Mat did get to ride a to'raken.

Why is releasing the bond so easy now? Everyone does it. 

Driving Slayer. Beating. Pounding... What. Perrin, that’s gay.

Okay, the last fight between Perrin and Slayer was cool. The hopping between Wolf Dream and reality was new and dynamic and eerie.

The wolves are heroes too? Okay. This is becoming a little too kitchen sink for me. 

Clever, clever Avi for using the gateway to destroy Graendal because she cannot walk to escape.

Mat is Mashadar-resistant? And killed Fain. I'm cool with that. The confrontation itself was a bit underwhelming but it makes sense Mat is the one. 

At least Perrin grew enough to choose Rand over Faile. Responsibilities, they are tough.

They tricked Moridin and are now controlling him? I can't believe I accidentally guessed part of the plan. 

And the True Power is the key to resealing the DO! Yesssssssss that's fitting considering its exploitation started all this.

Graendal is now under compulsion and following Avi? That's a bit random. I see it's supposed to be comeuppance but it's also accidental and she won't be even aware of being punished. Like Mesaana, it's just another powerful woman depowered rather than killed.

Asha'man are treated with more respect than the AS ever were after one battle? Good that the story ends on this high for them, but it never addressed the treatment of Aes Sedai as monsters declawed by the Oaths and their dehumanization.

Logain broke the Seals as Eggy asked! What a bloody satisfying conclusion for him. 

It figures that Lanfear compelled Perrin because he could not have been that naive. 

Hey, I hope Perrin saying he still hates Moiraine is a bloody act.

Tepid take: breaking a woman's neck and then remarking she's beautiful? Gross. Even if it's arguably the lingering compulsion, it's a sexist dehumanizing trope. 

Yes, Rand understood he could not kill the DO and resealed him. He WAS wrong.

Moiraine saving Nyn's life and pulling her out of the cave when Rand went nuclear. Feels good. Feels organic. 

"You did well, Rand. You did well.” - Nope. My heart. Moiraine believed he could save the world and he did.

“I left… to save you,” Nynaeve whispered. “I only came along to protect you.” “You did, Nynaeve. You protected Rand so he could do what he had to do.” - Nyn accomplished so much but still protecting Egwene and Rand would have been enough.

"It was the Fourth Age now, wasn’t it? Could an age start in the middle of a day? That would be inconvenient for the calendars, wouldn’t it? But everyone agreed. Rand had sealed the Bore at noon." - asking the right questions here. I love Loial.

Ituralde survived! And is convinced by Yukiri to be king? 

Avi, Min and Elayne are sensing Rand, that's why they're not worried. Although why they are not masking their reaction is beyond me. If Nyn is already onto them, more will be.

Aludra is rebuilding the Illuminators' guild with dragoners! That's a great way to rehabilitate soldiers. 

So Moghy was taken by the Seanchan? That's quite underwhelming. The Seanchan are basically a bad women dumping ground at this point.

All things considered, Perrin had a good arc. It got lost in the middle for ages but the foundations of it are solid and the story can easily be adapted with minor tweaking, contrary to Mat's arc that got completely squandered.

Perrin finding Faile was really moving though. Also if he was able to retrieve her alive from a heap of corpses, Moiraine doing so for Siuan is entirely possible and Nyn can save her. Min can be wrong about ONE vision.

Birgitte's last gift being to spare Elayne from her increasingly belligerant path is fitting but yeah, I'm not hopeful for the future of Andor's neighbors even with the Dragon's peace. Elayne was ready to privatise the Horn as she did the Kin.

So Rand swapped body with Moridin. How disappointing. Alivia's big role in his death was... Providing him with clothes and money so he could slip away? Cads figured it out, which means Moiraine did, and Nynaeve suspects, so she will know.

I don't get why Min, Avi and Elayne showed no emotion at all during the funeral if the goal was to keep his survival a secret? It's bound to raise suspicion. Also why Rand is not sure they will follow him? Is he not planning to see his kids?

To have him reborn as a non-channeler centuries later, without insight into what the future would be, would have been better. This undermines his speech about the nature of the Wheel giving second chances: his rebirth is a freak swap accident.

And again, nothing about the trauma Rand faced during TLB. He saw his friends die and was exposed to the Pattern itself: he's completely fine. Not even affected by the True Power exposure Moridin was suffering from. It's a bit underwhelming. Big reset button agaon.

"The wind blew southward, through knotted forests, over shimmering plains and toward lands unexplored. This wind, it was not the ending. There are no endings, and never will be endings, to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was an ending." - I love beginning callbacks.

About this open ending: 1. I am okay with the Aiel's fate remaining uncertain. The ball is in their camp and I think Avi is the best leader they could hope for to transform and survive. Rhuidean showed a possibility, otherwise Moiraine would have slept with Rand.

2. Also okay with Cads as Amyrlin. They need a strong leader to rebuild so naturally they turned to the past but the AS were also changed enough by Egwene to have been set straight in their ways. The collaboration on the battlefield is proof enough of it. AS don't have a choice but to follow Egwene's path as well. Between the heavy casualties suffered during TLB, the BA executions and the sisters taken by the Seanchan and now trapped by Rand's peace, there are probably 100-200 full sisters left. The majority of their contingent is now AS in training picked up by Egwene. They have no choice to follow Eggy's path to survive. As for they alliances with the Windfinders and the WO, the same happened to them: killed, burned out or enslaved. Hundreds of Shaido WO have been lost to the Seanchan and the Shaido was the largest clan. To survive, they will have to rely on Egwene's terms. The Seanchan never agreed to let go the captured damane go if they wished as Egwene bartered either. You can be sure that the Seanchan won't forget that Egwene agreed to let missionaries into TV and across the nations. Tremalking should be free though, as Mat witnessed the agreement. But yeah, the Seanchan are now a threat channelers will have to contend with. So I assume that Cadsuane, who doesn't want to be Amyrlin and has never followed any of the rules, will fuck off as soon and fulfill her obligations as little as possible. Perhaps the Amyrlin Seat itself will disappear for a more horizontal structure?

3. Could it be that the girls seem not to care about Rand because he's not ta'veren anymore? They aren't pulled to him and thus truly have a choice in not following this new Rand on adventures while they have duties here. They grew to like each other, but Rand was ta'veren. So now they can re-learn to love him if they wish? It’s such a bizarre ending. It doesn’t make sense for them not to at least fake their reaction to protect him.

On the book overall: This book will definitely get merged with ToM because technically it was only battles. I agree with the criticism that Sanderson got lost in the battle scenes and prioritised unnecessary POVs to the detriment of established characters in need of resolution, like Moiraine or Nynaeve. Certain arcs get an unfitting and abrupt conclusion like Lan’s and Siuan’s, Lan randomly surviving and Siuan randomly dying. Elayne’s arc is also underwelming because she’s commander general when it doesn’t really make sense and gets replaced by Mat halfway anyway. I disagree with the criticism that Androl was unnecessary though because it was a solution to the Black Tower Jordan problem that should have been dealt with much earlier. The fact that Lan, Moiraine and Siuan didn’t meet again after literally starting this quest 20 years ago is a sham. The Seanchan though… Their fate is so timid considering how big of a threat they are? It’s implied that maybe Min could nudge Tuon in the right direction, with Mat’s help, but Tuon isn’t the Empire and what of the previously captured channelers, conquered lands, massacred Athan’an Miere. Structurally, it does feel like edited notes with a blend of important resolution scenes and BIG BATTLES, so it may be my least favourite of the Sanderson books?

I still enjoyed it, with major caveats regarding certain arcs. It was a feat to finish the saga considering the amount of stuff to conclude. I’m still a little overwhelmed by the book, days after finishing it, so it clearly did something right. If anything I have more elements to discuss for ages.

[thomashoes]

Thinking about.... Alhaitham

so i hung out with one of my best friends today and i updated her on what was going on in my life and i told her about a dream i had and it made me think that it would be a good alhaitham fic lol. anyways, here ya go!

fem reader x alhaitham

angst, little comfort, false accusations

might have grammatical errors and typos, i apologize

alhaitham might be a bit ooc, sorry :<

TW// mentions of harassment

Little backstory:

y/n and alhaitham dated during their akademiya days (shocking i know) purely out of ”motivation” but genuine feelings did develop later on. they were quite toxic with each other, they just couldnt tell. they broke up bc of a rumor about y/n was sleeping with one of the matra so she wouldn’t get into trouble with her academic offenses when she was in fact harassed by the matra who also spread the rumor. alhaitham caught wind of this and initially didnt care until another student approached him and that was when he screwed up by making out with that student. and (un)fortunately kaveh saw this and told y/n about it like the good senpai he is. that was when the two of them blew it off and split. as soon as y/n graduated, she left to mondstadt and worked for dawn winery. met diluc and fell in love. yeah. enjoy!

The Akademiya decided to hold a celebration for the “return” of their Archon, Lesser Lord Kusanali, and practically put a hold on all sorts of research that any of the scholars had going on. Alhaitham saw this celebration as unnecessary since him and the rest of the “save the archon” team already did in zubayr theater and, as the Acting Grand Sage, he rejected the idea.

At first, at least. 

After much persuasion from Nahida herself, he reluctantly agreed seeing that their Archon seemed to want this celebration with the entire city and the neighboring nations. He was then in-charge of overseeing the organizing procedure and sending out invitations to the other nations. Needless to say, he was quite overworked but it was nothing compared to when still a student in the Akademiya.

On the day of the celebration, he made sure that everything was in order and that the city's security was guaranteed. He walked around the bustling city streets which was more lively than the celebration of the Jnagarbha Day. The more he walked around the city, the more he felt at peace since it seemed his hard work had paid off.

When evening fell and it was time for the formal party that was arranged for the prominent figures from each nation to gather and was held at the Palace of Alcazarzaray. The night was going as smoothly as he had expected. He watched as the Acting Grand Master of The Knights of Favonius spoke with the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing, the General Mahamatra in his own group, that Paimon lovingly called “the archon protection squad”, was laughing rather loudly. Too loud for his liking, really.

Taking a sip from his cup of Mondstadt’s dandelion wine, he mentally checked off the names of the guests that have arrived and noted that one was missing. He shrugged it off thinking that he might have not seen a letter from the guest declining the invitation with due to his busy schedule. As he was about to walk away from the table he was hovering over, the entrance door opened and revealed the guest that he thought wouldn’t arrive.

And there he spotted her, donned in a simple yet elegant black dress with her hair up in a bun with her bangs hanging freely against her forehead and some strands falling to her shoulders. her face didn't seem to be caked, allowing her natural beauty to show. Alhaitham was not sure if the wine has finally hit him or was it his old feelings that made the thought, but he absolutely believed that she had stolen tonight's spotlight.

He was quickly taken out of his head when he recognized the red haired gentleman that walked alongside her.

Ah, yes. He had completely forgotten about one unfortunate fact. The one that he once called rival for the Scribe title and the love of his life was now to be wed to Mondstadt’s very own wine tycoon, Diluc Ragvindr.

The aforementioned man walked up to him but Alhaitham only had his eyes on her. Diluc and Alhaitham exchanged greetings and pleasantries while Y/N would occasionally answer for Diluc. Alhaitham tried to ignore the way Diluc would look at her, so much pride and adoration. The same look he had once held for her. His heart twisted painfully as he watched Diluc place a kiss on her knuckles before they excused themselves. Alhaitham needed fresh air, so he swiftly moved his legs to exit the palace and settled in the small gazebo at the front.

He stared at the night sky, his glass of wine forgotten beside him as his mind wandered to the “what if’s”. As he drowned in his thoughts, he failed to hear the footsteps that approached him.

“Didn’t think you would accept the title of Acting Grand Sage,” the person friskily commented. “But, it is to be expected of the oh-so-amazing Alhaitham.”

Alhaitham turned around and silently watched Y/N walked to the other end of the railing he was situated on. They stayed in silence before Alhaitham answered her, “I never wanted to be one and I actually declined the position multiple times. However, the city was a mess and someone had to bring everything back in order.”

Y/N looked at him with a perfectly shaped brow raised, “And they chose you to be the Grand Sage? The Akademiya might as well have shut down if that was the case.” She shifted against the railing to lean against the gazebo’s post as she eyed the glittery sky. Alhaitham scoffed at the familiar comment, “That’s what Kaveh told me as well.”

A soft hum came from her throat, “It’s nice to know that you and Senior Kaveh still get along in a way.” she turned to look at him, “Or are you just tolerating his presence?”

A chuckle left Alhaitham’s mouth as he sipped on his wine, “Tolerating him is an understatement, but you may view it however you want.”

Another round of silence enveloped the cold setting as neither of the two spoke, simply enjoying each other’s company and their drinks.

Y/N hesitated to speak, fearing that her emotions may get the better of her especially with the alcohol in her system. but before she could speak, Alhaitham beat her to it.

“I’m sorry,” Alhaitham uttered, pain spread across his chest as soon as he did. “For everything that I have said and done to you. I shouldn’t have let arrogance get the best of me and I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. I knew what I did was wrong but I didn't care back then. But please know that I did love you and I still do.”

The emotions Alhaitham had held on for years had finally revealed themselves to Y/N. He felt woozy and his heart was pounding, unsure if it really was the alcohol or the result of years of pent up emotions. Y/N looked at him with watering eyes, “Please stop, don’t do this to me. I did not come here for closure, Alhaitham. We are long past that. You made your decision 5 years ago, there’s nothing left for you to do.”

His heart throbbed, “I know that it was wrong of me to do and say those things to you, but you weren’t innocent either, Y/N.” he remarked bitterly. Y/N’s gaze hardened and gripped the railing hard, “Oh, so now you’re pushing the blame to me? I already told you everything and after all these years you’re still hung up on that rumor?”

Y/N scoffed and shook her head before pushing herself off the railing, “You know what, this is why we couldn’t work out. You may be the most intelligent guy in the world but you definitely are lacking in the social understanding department. I didn’t approach you tonight to pick a fight and open old wounds.” she rummaged through her purse and pulled out an envelope while she stood firmly on her feet and looked Alhaitham in the eyes before handing it to him.

A cold wave washed over Alhaitham as he realized what it was.

It was a wedding invitation.

“Diluc knows about you being my former lover and also my best friend. Him and I talked about this and thought that our wedding would be a nice way for us to reconnect because he trusts me not run back into your arms, as he put it.” Y/N conveyed to him earnestly. Alhaitham didn't move to accept the envelope simply staring at the engagement ring on her finger, all the more reminder of his loss.

Y/N realized he was not going to move so she walked up to him and slid the envelope on the pocket of his suit. Alhaitham slowly breathed in to calm his heart from pounding, catching whiff of her favorite scented shampoo.

Seeming to sense that Alhaitham was tense, Y/N looked up at him and saw his eyes were glassy. Her heart ached at the sight, despite years of separation and zero-contact, it seemed that a part of her still loved him. Just not as much as before.

She smiled at him as she felt her own eyes water and raised a hand to stroke his cheek. The words she wanted to say dried up in her throat. Alhaitham subconsciously leaned in to her touch and moved his own hand to hold hers, mentally begging her to leave her fiancé.

A moment of silence passed by before Y/N whispered, “Thank you for everything, Alhaitham.”

The Acting Grand Sage was frozen as soon as she slid her hand off his face and silently made her way back to her fiancé. And before Alhaitham knew it, his heart broke for the first time in 5 years and tears have run down his face.

He never thought loving someone could be so painful.

this brainrot was brought to you by trauma //j

[jcheechoo]

i used to not care abt vladivostok’s khl team but

now i am happy to support an admiral bunch of jerks :)

[talesfromaurea]

Word find tag

Thank you @talesofsorrowandofruin for the tag!

Words are vast, dare, light, seek and ancient (I really love this word selection btw, let’s see what I can find for them...)

Vast

The crowds thinned as Kaja left the main thoroughfare, bursting out from between two buildings. The sunny sky opened up above and the vast ocean spread before her, an endless expanse of deep, sparkling blue stretching to the horizon and beyond.

Dare

“Had my daughter been born when she was meant to,” [Anya] said, gently nuzzling the golden egg, “she would be strong enough now to stand up against our enemies. She would lead our forces and do battle with the likes of Bhorovane in the skies. The Irkallu wouldn’t dare settle in Aurelia, knowing that she would rain fire down on them.”  

For the first time during their conversation, the companions were reminded that, for as gentle as Anya appeared to be, she was still a dragon and she had not gotten all of her scars attending meetings and filing paperwork.

Light

“Ah, Sakrattars,” Lorsan placed his hand on his son's shoulder. “Celendros, this is my youngest son Sakrattars. You know of Celendros Swiftriver, he's the diplomat who negotiated the recent release of Narbonensis from the Empire.”

Sakrattars did know, but he was surprised that said diplomat was an adolescent like himself. “Nice to meet you, ambassador,” he said awkwardly, feeling strange for addressing someone around his own age so formally.

“Call me Celendros,” the young elf said with a charming wink. His accent had the light airiness typical of elves from Aurea. “Lovely to meet you.” He bowed with a flourish, taking Sakrattars’ hand gently in his own. Sakrattars raised an eyebrow at the showy display, not sure how he should respond. Was this a new trend in Aurea?

Seek (Lorsan, once again, being father-of-the-year material)

“Which is why it's not necessary for you to write that letter. I've already been corresponding with the University of Barsicum—”

“Barsicum!”

“—and I've secured my place on their enrollment list for next year. They have a divination program there, it's been around for a hundred years now.”

“You’ve been around for longer and you’re still a foolish child!” Lorsan rose, slamming his hands down on his desk. “Only humans would seek to group this— this practice in with legitimate magic!”

“It is legitimate. The Academia Arcana is currently in the process of establishing their own—”

Lorsan cut his son off mid-sentence. “And how did you plan to pay for this silly pursuit? With our money?”

Sakrattars pursed his lips. He was beginning to get truly angry. “Father, why won’t you give this a chance? You were the one who wanted me to study magic.”

“Yes, real magic.” The old elf sighed and slumped back down into his chair, rubbing his temple with one hand.

Ancient

Sakrattars revisited the terminal, asking it to search for “Norsivex”. As he expected, the terminal directed him to books on ancient history or military strategy. Sakrattars plucked one from the shelf, an End to the Age of Blades: Norsivex's Conquest and Murder, and returned to his desk. The book was dense and comprehensive but it was written in old elvish, a language more related to the lingua arcana than to the imperial elvish that Sakrattars grew up speaking. Sakrattars could read it but it would take some time. He muttered a few curses to pretentious elven scholars as he flipped through the pages.

No pressure tags for @talesfromgringolandia, @nikkywrites, @lanawritesalittle, @winterandwords, @aalinaaaaaa, and anyone else! Your words are crystal, amber, star, and shadow

[sockablock]

in light of the truly heartwarming response I got to part one of this story, please enjoy: How To Build a Magic School, Chapter 2

—

It took a special kind of mind to follow the Mighty Nein’s conversations once they really got heated. It helped, at least, that they were seated in close proximity, sprawled across a ring of crates in the main tent, but the fact of the matter was that trying to pay attention to seven people all chiming in at once was already giving Essek a mild headache. And minor neck pain.

“—kind of disguise,” Veth was saying. “I know it’s been a couple years, but folks here…they might not be happy to see a…a...”

“A foreigner,” Fjord said, diplomatically.

“A Xhorhastian,” Yasha tried.

“A drow,” Essek came to their rescue. “No, she is right.”

There was a sharp and semi-affronted exhale from Jester. “Did you get any funny looks when you arrived? Did anyone say anything to you?”

“And do you remember which ones they were?” Caleb added quietly.

Essek hesitated, trying to remember, but through the bright haze of sunlight and hot summer, the furious clamor of construction outside—

“I…do not think anyone saw my arrival.”

“You’re wearing full black and carrying a pink umbrella,” Beau grunted. “Are you sure?”

He hesitated again. “Ah…no.”

“All sorts of interesting people have visited us since the school project started,” Caduceus said. In line with the conventions of his personal narrative, he was attempting to make tea over a tiny, portable burner. “You probably won’t be the strangest thing they’ve seen or will see, working here.”

“They’ve already seen Fjord—”

“Hey! That—why—”

“The people of Felderwin can be touchy though,” Veth continued, smugly ignoring Fjord. “I don’t really think you can blame them, either. If it wasn’t the goblin attacks for years before that, it was the, well, the huge invasion where a purple worm ate the ground and half the town caught on fire.”

She maintained eye contact with Essek as she said this. Her gaze intensified when he shrugged. 

“That is…fair enough,” Caleb cut in. “But I would feel…ill at ease to force you, Essek, to hide if you did, ah, did not wish to…”

Essek gestured vaguely at his appearance. “Actually, I had assumed I would be needing to disguise myself. I have masqueraded as a high elf before, and it would not be difficult to do so again.”

“Isn’t that a lot of spells wasted?” Fjord asked. “Won’t it be annoying to have to keep that up?”

“It’s not that hard,” said Veth, under her breath.

“Oh, oh, I could Polymorph you!” Jester clapped her hands together, enthused. “I can make you anything! You could be an elf, or a tiefling, or a firbolg or a—”

“I appreciate the offer,” Essek said smoothly, “but I do have a few resources at hand. A simple ring of illusion would do the trick.”

“What are we gonna say about you, though?” Beauregard asked. All heads turned toward her. “If the court wants to know about you, a random mage and one of the first hires of the magic school, what are we supposed to tell them?”

They considered this.

“He’s a…family friend?”

“Whose family?”

“Well, I’d like to think of us as a family—”

“Why don’t we say he’s from Nicodranas?” Jester suggested. “We could say he’s, um…oh! That he was recommended by Yussa!”

“Yussa?” Essek echoed.

“Actually…that doesn’t sound half-bad,” Fjord mused. “Master Yussa is a mage that the king recognizes, yes?”

“Ah, he is a mage?”

“He’s a friend of ours!” Jester beamed. “A super powerful wizard that lives in the Open Quay. He’s pretty powerful, Essek. Maybe even more powerful than you!”

This was delivered with a winning smile. Caleb sighed. “From what I gather, Master Yussa is much older, and has had quite a few lifetimes’ worth of practice. He is also…quite reclusive, and therefore not exactly what we had in mind for this school.

“And he said no,” Beauregard muttered.

“Yes, danke, and he also turned us down. The point is, we can pretend you are acquainted with him. That should be enough to assuage the court.”

“Will this…Master Yussa agree to such a thing?” Essek asked.

Caleb answer with a faint grin. “He is a wizard who feels he is…not so beholden to court pressures. Also, he owes us a favor, as is.”

Essek couldn’t help but match Caleb’s expression. “Is that so? Then I find I quite admire this man.”

“We saved him from the Happy Fun Ball,” Yasha supplied, a collection of syllables that no betting man would have ever predicted to come from her. “He likes us.”

“He loves us,” Jester corrected. “He has our Little Willi and his assistant Wensforth practically worships us and everything!”

After the pertinent information had been properly located, Essek nodded. “That is, er, lovely. I owe him my thanks.”

“Now we just gave to give you a new name,” said Veth. “I don’t think we can keep calling you ‘Thelyss,’ unless we want the idiots on the Committee getting suspicious.”

“The…excuse me?”

“The Arcane Restoration Supervisory Committee,” Caleb sighed, “is a group of concerned officials—”

“—nosy dillweeds—"

“—that was formed to manage—”

“—micromanage—”

“—to oversee our current rebuilding efforts. It is very likely,” he continued, giving Beau a look, “that this is the court’s way of reconciling with the fact that an unknown quantity has been handed the reigns of the Dwendalian Empire’s arcane future.”

“I know that,” Beau countered, “I just don’t like them.”

“Caleb is the unknown quantity,” Caduceus added.

“…I see,” said Essek, eventually. “Should I, ah, be concerned about them?”

“Probably not,” Beau said. “They’re just a bunch of nobles who think they understand the first thing about magic.”

“You being an expert on the subject, of course,” was what Essek did not say, because self-preservation interrupted just in time. Instead, what left his mouth was:

“I had also anticipated concern about my involvement—that is, Shadowhand Essek Thelyss’s involvement—in this matter. If necessary, I can masquerade as someone else. I, ah, will still need an umbrella during the daylight hours, though. Or perhaps a large hat?”

The elongated squeal from Jester atop the milk crate filled him with regret.

“What was the name you used last time?” Fjord asked. “Desden…Desbin…”

“‘Dezran Thain,’” Essek supplied. “Actually, I could employ that title again.”

“Uh…is that a good idea?” Veth asked. “Wasn’t Dezran a friend of the Assembly’s?”

Essek shook his head. “Strictly speaking, Thain was just a very minor lord that lived in Nicodranas. When the peace talks began, he was called upon by Da’leth to play tour guide and host due to his interest in magic and local familiarity. Only he, de Rogna, and Tversky knew who I really was.”

“It is…not bad, as far as our plans go,” Caleb said after a while. “It aligns with the story that you are Nicodranian, and it might actually sit well with the court members that had favored the Assembly. As for those who supported us against them…”

Beau rolled her eyes when Caleb’s gaze fell on her. “Yeah, yeah, an Expositor will vouch for him.”

“An Expositor?”

“Gods, fine, this Expositor.”

“Thank you.” Then he gave Essek a nod. “That about covers it then, ja? This story, we can tell the court, and then—"

“Wait, hang on—” And this was Beauregard again, leaning forward, staring directly at Essek.

“Yes?” he said.

“What did you tell your court?” she asked.

—

Mother had spoken to the Bright Queen alone. This was not technically out of the ordinary, as the Umavis of Rosohna frequently met to discuss state matters too selective for anyone else. But Essek was unused to being considered “anyone else,” which was why the situation still rankled, in his mind.

“Tell me again,” he turned to face his mother, floating clothes and books drifting past his head. “Is that all you said?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

At his still-annoyed expression, his mother sighed. “Yes, dear. I just told Leylas that this was a unique opportunity for you to integrate yourself within the Empire and gain ample information that would otherwise be inaccessible. We all saw how abruptly the war ended, and how quickly the Assembly seemed to fall afterwards. No one can blame her for being curious.”

A small inkwell drifted across the room as Essek resumed packing. “And then?” he prompted.

His mother sighed again.

“And then I reassured her Majesty that there were plenty of souls that could temporarily come together to fill the void you would leave behind—”

No doubt all from Den Thelyss, Essek thought.

“—and that even in absentia, you would still be serving as a valuable font of information for the Dynasty. Which, after all, is what the Shadowhand is meant to do. And of course, should it ever be required, you could always be called home.”

“…indeed.”

“Indeed,” his mother smiled. “Though, of course, this is all under the assumption that aside from your prospective employer, nobody else will know who you truly are.”

Essek gave this due consideration.

“I have a feeling that the rest of the Mighty Nein will be told, Mother.”

The Umavi of Den Thelyss was not an easy woman to read. Her expression gave nothing away as she said, “I see.”

“But,” Essek added, because he felt he needed to, “I don’t think anyone else has to know.”

She reached out slowly and plucked a mirror from the air.

“I have more faith in you than that, my dear. I am confident you will ensure it is so.”

—

“—temporary leave of absence,” said Essek, now, to the Mighty Nein. “I have been the Shadowhand for most of my life, and a diligent scholar of the nation before that. I was owed some vacation days.”

“Vacation days—” began Fjord.

“But how temporary?” asked Beau, cutting him off. “I thought it’d be hard for you—you know, as you said, the Shadowhand—to just up and leave, after all. How long can you stay here?”

Essek gave her a wry smile. “Fortunately, I expect my definition of ‘temporary’ is somewhat different than yours.”

“Longer,” said Caduceus.

“Longer,” he agreed. “It is very safe to assume that I can stay for at least a decade, if I wish.”

“And I certainly hope you do wish,” said Caleb quickly. “There are many things we will need to accomplish, after all, not just today during construction, but in the future. And, ah,” he added, a little more pointedly, “I do feel as if I should thank you again. For everything you have done for us, and now today in volunteering your expertise.”

“Man, we’re really going to need it,” Jester groaned, throwing herself back across the milk crate. “The Committee keeps telling us to go faster, hire this person, that person, build the school different—everything.”

“Really?”

Caleb chuckled. “Yes, but that all can be explained tomorrow,” he said. “For now, though,” and he stood, crouching to avoid the ceiling of the tent, “let me show you to where we are staying. I expect you must be tired, ja? If not by the travel, then at least the time difference.”

For just a moment, Essek thought about saying otherwise. But there was something in Caleb’s hopeful expression that made him pause.

He yawned very minutely, and smiled. “It would be nice to put my things away,” he admitted. “And, ah, perhaps have a short rest.”

“Of course, of course,” Caleb gestured to the door, but did stop to address the group at large. “I’m sure I’ll be back soon,” he added, “but if anyone needs me…Jester?”

She saluted cheerfully, for the spirit of it. “Got it!”

“And of course, Veth, you are the Professor in charge.”

This was answered with an expansive wave, and a grin.

“Of course, Headmaster! Leave everything to us!”

—

“So…Headmaster, eh?” One pair of footsteps—and then sheepishly, another—began to crunch through the freshly-dewed grass. All around them, spanning the entirety of the field, a legion of masons and stonecutters and workmen cut, sawed, hammered, and hefted the thick wooden frame of an enormous building in its first stages. A group of surveyors stood at the center, arguing as more lumber was lugged into view, directing the flow of Construction and Progress.

“Apparently so,” Caleb said, “though I have to admit, I am not quite used to that title yet.”

Something enormous soared overhead, momentarily blotting out the sun.

“Would you prefer Professor Widogast?”

Caleb sighed as the shadow vanished.

“I prefer ‘Caleb,’ to be truly honest.”

Essek chuckled. “Then for now at least, I will oblige.”

He glanced up as the next shadow approached, squinting to see in the bright morning light. After rubbing his eyes and blinking a few times, he could make out the shape of a massive carpet, carrying sacks of sand and brick.

“Spoils from the remnants of Soltryce,” Caleb explained, before Essek could ask. “We found quite a number of things in the basement of that school, some…well.” His expression went dark, and not just because of the shadow overhead. “Many of those things we managed to release. Some, ultimately, had to be destroyed.” But then he gestured to the enormous architectural undertaking around them and added in a lighter tone, “Some things, though, ended up being rather useful. Like the, ah, look, over there—”

Essek blinked again, and this time spotted what appeared to be twelve hulking stone statues, moving slowly between a line of workers. Each had gait like rock grinding on steel, and were lifting whole logs like they weighed nothing.

“Guardian constructs,” Caleb said. “They were a nuisance to battle, but once de Rogna was gone, they went dormant and stopped fighting. We figured out how to pilot them later.”

Essek looked suitably impressed by this. He shifted his umbrella into his other hand.

“Really?” he said. “And are you now their master?”

“Oh no, nein,” Caleb quickly shook his head. “Honestly, it was suggested, but I…there was something that bothered me about the idea of having control of them. And not just I, but…it felt wrong to let any single person control a fleet of sleepless warriors. So Beauregard got creative.”

“Indeed?”

Caleb pointed to a wooden sign that was nailed into the ground a few feet from their path. A handful of workers was crouching next to it, carefully reciting what was scrawled across its surface. After a moment, to Essek’s genuine surprise, he realized they were practicing an arcane incantation.

“How do—”

“A pronunciation guide,” Caleb said. He was—yes, he was smiling about this. “We managed to translate enough verbal commands to make them usable for anyone who can read Common.”

“But…but…that’s everyone,” Essek said, hurrying a bit to catch back up. It took him some effort to tear his gaze from the sign. “Are you not…are you not concerned about this information falling into the wrong hands?”

“Ah, but if anyone can use them, then there is no problem. The playing field, as they say, has evened out. That was Beauregard’s idea, anyhow.” At the silence that followed, Caleb tilted his head and said, “Think of it this way, ja? A magic sword controlled by an evil person is not so dangerous if even a peasant can tell it to stop. What is the use of a weapon of war that listens to everyone’s commands?”

“Yes, but…” Essek struggled to find the right words. “Now…now…right, but now the sword is a, a, a butter knife! What would be the point of that?”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. Then he managed a trying smile. “That…depends on what you need though, no? Right now, what we are looking for is not war. It is toast. Er…that is, a metaphorical toast.”

“But…still, if that is the case, anyone could steal your constructs,” Essek said, somewhat subdued. “Should they not be guarded? As you would protect a prized tool?”

Caleb actually snorted at this. “If anybody attempted to do so,” he said, “they would receive quite an earful from the Chief Surveyor. They would not dare.”

And then Caleb turned, met Essek’s gaze, and it looked like he was waiting for cheerful agreement.

Neither response felt appropriate. Something about this still bothered Essek, almost like trying an ill-fitting sock.

“I think, ah, that I prefer jam,” he managed eventually. “On my toast, that is. And perhaps, a cup of tea?”

Blessedly, this elicited a chuckle from Caleb. “Of course, of course. That I can provide. We are quite close to the tavern, as is.”

And indeed, after only a few more minutes, they passed through a thin line of trees and arrived at the edge of a small, but bustling town.

“Welcome—well, welcome back to Feldwerin,” Caleb corrected. “Though this time, I expect, you will be staying longer.”

—

When the war ended, Felderwin Tillage had been left in a state of utter chaos. Purple worms had torn apart acres of land, fields had been razed by advancing soldiers, and scores of houses, stables, and shops had been burned to the ground when the invasion began.

And then, the Cerberus Assembly had fallen, and more information flooded the populous. They’d been told, virtually overnight, that the Archmages had been secretly using this town as a testing ground. They’d unleashed uncontrolled magic here for generations, tricking and abusing the townsfolk for their experiments, forcing a local lad—the widower—to work for them, and when people fell ill, they’d blamed it all on molded fruit.

Suddenly, the villagers felt quite foolish. And then, they’d started to get angry.

So it came as a genuine shock to Caleb that when the time came to build their campus, Veth had stepped forward and said it should be in Felderwin.

“But…they’d never agree,” he’d said. “Why should they?”

But she’d shaken her head. “They will.”

And so, the next morning, Veth marched through the village center with Luc and Yeza following behind, the Mighty Nein scrambling to keep up. She’d stormed up the stairs of the Town Hall, looked the Starosta dead in his eye, and informed him that everything was about to change.

All they’d need, she said, was a swath of land outside town, far enough away that it wouldn’t interfere with the calm that this village had been so denied, but close enough that it was still in the tillage. She’d told him, when he’d protested, that yes, there would be mages, but there would also be student mages, young, burgeoning minds that would spend quite a long time at the school. They’d be trained there, fed and housed and cared for, and eventually, once they grew up and graduated, when they looked back fondly on their younger years, it’d be in Felderwin.

Besides, she’d added, tapping the side of her nose, now the King would have to protect this place. After all, it’d be right next to the Empire’s arcane center, and wouldn’t it be nice to finally have some proper defenses? Not to mention, if you needed to borrow any of the bright young masons and stonecutters we’d hired, well. That could be arranged, easy.    

Sometimes, she’d said, it doesn’t hurt to be on the map. Because then the world pays attention to what happens to you.

And then the mayor had said, Aren’t you dead?

And then Veth had informed him, I got better.

And so it was now, a few months later, that Caleb led Essek past the newly-rebuilt Brenatto Apothecary, toward the Glassy Grass Inn. It had become the go-to tavern for the Mighty Nein, not because they were unwelcome in Veth’s house, per say, but more due to a gentle conversation that Yeza had had with his wife about work-life balance after Caduceus had walked into the center of the shop during its busiest hours in nothing but a towel and a toothbrush.

After that, they agreed to at least sleep next door.

The bell overhead rang as they entered, though the sound was lost in the din of voices. Essek had barely shut his parasol before a burly man in an apron rushed past, carrying tray upon tray of drink and food.

“It’s gotten rather busy since we moved in,” Caleb explained. “Word got around, and apparently people quite like staying in the same pub as us. That, and old Littlebottle agreed to let our workers take meals and rooms at a discount. The barkeep.”

“Really?” Essek raised an eyebrow. “How generous of him.”

“Well, apparently he is grateful for the business. And, I expect, grateful that our project has kept his neighbor preoccupied. Apparently Veth and Yeza were responsible for quite a number of the scorch marks at the edge of his lawn.”

“Is that so?” Essek chuckled. “I find it easy to believe.” Then he added, as he watched Caleb wave to a face in the crowd, “It seems you have taken well to your new assignment. And life in this town.”

He was caught off-guard when he noticed the faintest coloring of Caleb’s ear.

“Oh, er…is that so? Have I?”

“Well, I…just meant it seems you have made friends with the locals. And you, ah, move through the village with purpose, and had quite a lot to say about your endeavor.”

“Is that—scheisse, was I annoy—”

“Oh! No, no, not at all. I just, er…”

They stopped in the doorway leading up to the second floor, laughter and conversation winding slowly all around them.

“I just meant, ah…it is nice to see you so relaxed,” Essek finished lamely. “Retirement from adventuring seems to suit you.”

Caleb seemed to relax. “Well,” he murmured, “I am glad you think so. Though I must say, my retirement has certainly been eventful.”

“Better still than the typical hero’s retirement, no?”

“Ha! Lucky for me, eh?”

They stood there for a moment longer, as if neither were sure who should go first. But after a short pause, Caleb stepped back and began rummaging through his pockets. “Here, ah, here, take this,” he said, and pressed a small silver key into Essek’s hand. “It leads to my bedroom, but you can rest there while I see about getting you a room. And some tea.”

Eseek turned it over, looped a finger through the cord. “Oh, but I can’t just leave you to—”

“No, nein, I insist,” said Caleb. “I do not mind—”

“Are you sure—”

“Of course.” And with the air of someone playing a trump card in a social encounter, he added, “After all, you have travelled quite a distance, my friend. Please. I will join you in a moment.”

—

The Mighty Nein ate their sandwiches peacefully in the meadow outside their tent.

Then:

“I thought he’d be wearing different clothes.”

“What?”

“I dunno. I just thought he’d look…less shadowy.”

“Like he wouldn’t be wearing that creepy mantle, or something?”

“Yeah! Like I thought he’d be in, like, summery clothes! Like a flowy shirt and regular pants and short sleeves and straw sandals. He is taking a break from being a spymaster, after all.”

There a pause as they pondered the likelihood of this.

“He…could be wearing that under the mantle,” Caduceus said.

“Sandals? Really?” said Fjord.

“But his skin, he probably could not wear those if he wanted to,” Yasha said.

“Hmm…that is a good point,” Jester conceded. “But still, all black? In the summer? That’s

“Not if he’s got, I dunno, ice under there,” said Veth. “What if he has a bunch of ice strapped to his chest?”

“Ice? Now, really…” said Fjord, but everyone else had started to ruminate on this.

“No stains,” said Beau eventually.

“What?”

“No stains,” she repeated “If there was ice, there’d be stains. From it melting, right?”

“Or he’d be—ugh, gross—he’d be leaking,” said Veth. “Like there’d be puddles underneath him and stuff.”

Three of them snickered delightedly at this. Then Caduceus passed around more juice, and more sandwiches.

—

There was a cat on the bed when Essek walked in, sprawled out as if it owned the place.

Disguised drow and disguised fey regarded each other for a moment. Then Frumpkin stretched lazily, and yawned.

It occurred to Essek, as he continued to stand in the doorway, that this might be some kind of test. Minutes passed as he struggled to find the right thing to say—this was a familiar, was it not? And then he realized that anything he did end up saying would probably come across as rather silly. He decided to err on caution and simply nodded to the cat before sitting down on a worn wooden chair.

It ignored him completely. Essek twisted at his sleeve.

And finally, by the Grace of the Luxon, there was a polite knock at the door.

“Come in, come i—Caleb, that is much too much food.”

“Nonsense,” said Caleb, who had closed the door behind him rather inelegantly with a foot. Carefully balanced across his arms were two wooden trays absolutely laden with breads, cheeses, sliced meats and fruits that Essek at a first glance couldn’t name. A third tray floated behind Caleb, supported by a faintly-shimmering Unseen Servant, carrying drinks and utensils.

Not to be outdone, Essek gave a faint smile and flicked his wrist with a flourish. The trays rose out of Caleb’s grasp and drifted toward the table.

“I had it,” but his former student was now smiling as well. “Though I have missed seeing an esteemed Gravaturgist at work.”

The food came to a gentle rest between them. “I have also missed showing off,” Essek said wryly. “It is hard to find someone in the Dynasty unfamiliar enough with Dunamancy to appreciate my skills quite as much as you d—you alldid.”

“We did make you teleport us around quite a bit,” Caleb chuckled. He picked up a small piece of bread and split it in two, offering half to Essek. “I do not think we ever repaid you properly, either.”

Essek examined the bread in his hands. “Well, if I remember the contents of your letter correctly, it is the world that should be trying to repay you. The Chained Oblivion? Really, Caleb?”

“Oh, ah…” The man actually had the nerve to sound bashful. “That was mostly an accident, as it were.”

“You…sorry, you accidentally defeated the Chained God? Is that what you are telling me?”

“Well, er, no, not exactly.” He picked up one of the small round fruits and held it between his fingers. “It was sort of an accident that we found it…or rather, we did not know what we were looking for.”

This sounded like the Mighty Nein that Essek knew. He motioned for Caleb to go on.

“We had been…following a dream of Yasha’s,” Caleb said. “She had received it from the Storm Lord ages ago, but with one thing and another, we had never had time to pursue this. There was…a place, an island in the sea, she had felt it was a place of great importance. We weren’t sure why, until we arrived and found…”

A place of starlight and iron chains, buried in the heart of a dead volcano. A chamber, a ritual-site, fading incense and chalk, ensnaring an obelisk and a shattered crystal and at its center, a pulsating, churning darkness—

A hole in reality, Essek would remember, lying awake that night. The bastards had found a hole in reality and then they’d jumped in—

And found themselves standing in a pocket dimension…or at least, that’s what they’d thought. The air swirled with dark mist, the sky alive and churning. The walls of the world seemed to lurch and expand and it was Caduceus who realized that the whole plane was breathing. Jester shifted them out, returning them to the chamber, and they began to pour through the notes left behind. They realized that someone had found a Divine Shackle, then turned it in on itself, re-directed the ritual, created a bridge that would grant them access to the very being of Tharizdun, the most ancient and chaotic of forces—

“But who?” Essek breathed. He held a gooseberry, though he didn’t know it yet. “Who was responsible?”

Caleb scowled. “They left their notes behind. Who else would it be?”

As far as the Cobalt Soul could tell, the archmages themselves had not originally been involved in any actual cult. But after Vence’s capture, and Tasithar’s transfer, a spark of interest had been ignited in the minds of some of the nation’s brightest.

“It is like your metaphor,” Caleb said. “Before, they were simply sailing on a boat—"

Essek hesitated. The horrible sourness of the fruit might’ve been muddying his concentration. “It is what?”

“Like they were sailing,” Caleb repeated. “And every so often, they could lean over the edge and skim the sea for knowledge from relative safety. But capturing the cultists had…inspired the Academy to instead, go for a dive. And so they dove, down into the deeps, plumbing the darkest tides for secrets. And of course, they ultimately encountered the monster of all monsters…”

From there, it had been a matter of getting the proof—about this, about everything else they’d done—into the hands of Cobalt Soul. But word got out, and whispers travelled, and more people than the Nein could ever have imagined rose up, demanded justice and retribution—

Essek remembered the reports he’d received on the morning of the fall of the Cerberus Assembly. The casualties had been extreme, but what happened afterwards, even more so.  

“You arrested them,” he murmured. “The ones that survived, anyway.”

“And still, quite a few of them escaped,” Caleb sighed. “That is of course not even including the fact that not all of them were guilty enough to fully imprison to start with. As I understand, Hass has left to see the world, and Lord Uludan is still a diplomat for the king.”

Essek glanced at a slice of cured ham. He wondered if it would be enough to counter the taste in his mouth.

“With the…Assembly gone,” he said carefully, “there will not be a council of mages to balance the rule of the king, anymore. The nation has lost a powerful governing body and a source of great strength. What do you suppose this means for Dwendal?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow at Essek. “I certainly do not think the Assembly was doing much balancing to begin with,” he said, almost as slowly. “As for the King, well…the man is quite old, and very paranoid. He will be tricky to manage, and yet there are a number of good people surrounding him. In fact, the elimination of the Assembly could allow them to finally step up. That, and this nation has now witnessed a historic uprising of the people. For the first time in a long time, citizens are trying to make their voices heard. And unless the royal court wants more chaos, or to fall in the way that the Assembly did, for once, I think they will have to listen.”

Essek lowered his hand. He stared at Caleb. “But…they are just people,” he said, astonished. “How could they know what is best for the nation?”

Caleb’s expression changed, slightly. He was silent for quite a long stretch of time.

“My dear friend…they are the nation.”

—

“No,” said Fjord.

“But—”

“No, Jester. I will not let you tape ice cubes to my armpit.”

There was a pause. Then a huff.

“Fine, I’ll ask Beau.”

—

After lunch, Essek was shown to a room slightly farther down the hall.

“It will likely be some time before we will be able to move into the school grounds,” Caleb said, “so I recommend you make yourself comfortable here.”

Essek was given another small key, tied to a leather cord.

He felt like something needed to be said. Gods, if he could just figure out what.

“I, ah…thank you,” he tried. “For…lunch, for everything, the room, and, ah, if you need gold—"

Caleb shook his hand. “Nein, please, no. It is, as they say, on the house. More accurately, on the dime of the royal treasury.”

There was another hesitation. Essek sought desperately for a solution, but when nothing came, he sighed. And gave up.

“I, um…am sorry,” he said. “If I…made a statement that was…incorrect.”

Caleb studied his expression. Then, he seemed to sigh as well.

“A school is for learning, is it not? Maybe we will be surprised by who teaches.”

“Er…”

“I just mean,” Caleb murmured, “that we do truly come from different worlds. That are, in many odd ways, rather the same. I just hope it will not be too much.”

Essek was not a stupid man. He opened his mouth again, to protest, but stopped when a hand brushed against his arm.

“You should get some rest,” Caleb said. “Unpack, adjust to our time zone, relax. Then tomorrow,” and here there was the faintest hint of smile, “I will give you a real tour of the school. You should have a voice in some of our plans, too, for the curriculum and into the future. And,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “it will be better to have everyone around when we finish the story. Yasha does very good sound effects for the Chained Oblivion.”

There was another pause. Not nearly as tense, but still quite bewildered.

“She does…what?”

“You did not think that was the end of the story, did you?” Caleb grinned. “That we toppled the Assembly and the Maw that Devours just vanished?”

Essek recalled the other reports.

“Ah,” he said. “More the fool I.”

Caleb gave him a friendly pat. “Once a bridge is built, it goes both ways,” he said. “It is funny how often we wizards forget that.”

Then, in the warmth of the hallway, he nodded.

“Have a rest, Essek Thelyss. I will be down the hall. Let me know if you need anything.”

Then he nodded, and turned around, and left.

—

“Jester, I—oh gods, that’s cold.”

“Hold still, silly! You have to hold still.”

“But I—ah—oh, oh gods.”

—

And later that evening, alone in his room, Essek summoned an exquisite onyx chest. He popped it open, and slowly all his worldly possessions began to drift out. Clothes, papers, books and components slowly floated across the room, settling into the proper drawers or hanging themselves in the closet.

And then, Essek collapsed into bed. With a wave of his hand, a small mirror appeared.

It was black, made from polished volcanic glass and set into a twisted metal frame. It had been a gift, and as far as mirrors went, it was rather lacking, but—

He sighed.

It would get the job done.

—

[Part 1] - [Writing Tag] - [The Bail Project] - [National Bail Fund Network]

[ladynightmare913]

Ink Bloom

Greetings and welcome to Chapter 1 of Ink Bloom!

This is an original story inspired by Asian lore, Jellyfish and so many more things I couldn't possibly begin to list! Since it's Mermay, I wanted to write something about mermaids, but I just didn’t have a clue as to what to do until it hit me like a tidal wave and I knew I had to bring this to life in writing! I would like to say a special thank you to my best friend Olivia (@asunshinepuff ) for joining me in writing this spectacular world onto paper!

For the readers who enjoy Red Rose, Blood Moon, don’t worry I will still be writing chapters and I hope you will enjoy this story as well!

This story only has original characters created by Olivia and myself. For those who want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask to me or Olivia on her blog. If you have any questions, theories, or curiosities about any of our characters or how the story will progress, send them to the ask box!

Chapter 1: Is That Cosplay?

Welcome to Poseidon’s Aquarium, as a reminder to all visitors, please keep sight of your children at all times.

“Alright everyone, stay close to your chaperons! Now, does everyone have a buddy!” A woman with medium-length dirty blonde hair, sun kissed skin, red lips and bright green eyes spoke to the group in front of her. She was dressed in a light khaki jacket with a white blouse, black slacks paired with black flats, and wore light brown rounded frame glasses.

“Yes Ms. Baker!” A group of fourth graders responded.

Ms. Baker nodded approvingly at her students, she looked over to one of her students who was in front of the group.

“Darcy, you must be so excited to be here. Maybe we’ll even see your dad and he will give us a tour!” The woman smiled.

A nine year old girl with long smooth brown hair, sea blue eyes, pale skin, rosy cheeks, and soft pink lips simply nodded at her teacher. She was wearing her school’s uniform, a light grey jumper dress with a long sleeve button up blouse underneath, a matching light grey blazer with deep blue accents along the collar, and her school’s name emblem of a horse with a fishtail over the left pocket in the same shade of blue, white stockings, black converse, and a simple deep blue bow on the side of her head.

Ms. Baker was undeterred by her student’s subdued response, turning her attention back to the rest of the class she smiled wider. “Let’s go!”

The fourth grade teacher walked straight ahead to the Northern Pacific exhibit. Darcy followed along silently, her buddy, a boy called Henry with short strawberry blonde hair and green eyes with freckles and blue rimmed glasses gently pulls her along with the class.

The children stare in awe and whisper among themselves as they go from exhibit to exhibit. Other students from different schools all played with the sea lions, and waddled like the penguins, and cooed at the otters. Darcy's father hadn’t made an appearance.

Next, they entered the underwater tunnel. The children gasped at the sight of the sharks, manta rays, and vibrant colors of the fish. One little boy gasped then pointed near the top of the huge tank.

“Look! A Mermaid!” He exclaimed.

“Where?!”

All the children rushed to where the mermaid dived down to them, she had black hair, and her tail was a shimmering yellow. When she finally reached the children’s eye level, she smiled and waved. Henry watched in wonder, his jaw agape. Darcy simply stared. She did not smile, she did not gasp in excitement.

“Is that a real mermaid?!” One little girl asked. Darcy looked at the girl who had asked Ms. Baker. The fourth grade teacher smiled as she shook her head.

“No Alisa, mermaids are not real, but she’s the closest thing to a real mermaid.”

The child, Alisa, pouted at the teacher, “Well I believe mermaids are real!”

Ms. Baker simply chuckled, and the children returned to watching the show. Darcy silently watched. The mermaid blew bubbles kisses to the children, doing a few tricks and swirls. They watched for a while before Ms. Baker spoke.

“Alright class, let’s move on, we have many other places to see!” She smiled as she urged the groaning and pouting children on. Henry followed until he noticed his shoelaces were untied. Quickly he bent down and tied his shoes. Looking back up, he noticed his class was already far ahead.

“Hey wait up!” He called after them, running to catch up. Unknowingly leaving behind his buddy, Darcy.

The nine year old girl continued to watch the mermaid, and when the mermaid left once everyone else had gone, and still, Darcy remained motionless.

“Do you believe?”

Darcy startled, breaking her reverie. Darcy turned to look at who spoke to her. It was an Asian woman. A very beautiful woman. Dressed in a long traditional pink dress with a darker shade of pink that looked like jellyfish, a dark indigo outer robe, and dark indigo flats. Darcy’s head tilted as she took in the woman’s clothes. She had pale skin, long ink blue hair that looked so soft to touch, bright indigo eyes. Darcy continued to stare at the strange woman.

“Is this not the right tongue?” The woman frowned gently as she looked over the small child.

Darcy shakes her head. She must have been quiet for a long time if the woman thought Darcy didn’t understand her. “Sorry, do I believe in what?

“Do you believe in maidens of the sea?” The woman in strange clothes elaborated. Giving Darcy a gentle smile.

“Do you mean mermaids?”

The woman silently repeated the word, mouthing out mermaid slowly before a nod to Darcy. Darcy looked down to her feet before turning to look back at the swimming fish.

“I used to. But they’re not real.”

“Well, not this one.” The woman looked at the swimming fish. Who seemed rather keen to stay a safe distance away. “And who says mermaids are not real?” She huffs.

Darcy frowns at the woman. “My teacher says they're not real.”

The woman scoffed. “What does she know about mermaids, she didn’t notice one of her disciples is missing”

Darcy blinks curiously at the woman’s words. Although she did have a point, Darcy wasn’t convinced. “My daddy says mermaids aren’t real.”

“Well, he’s wrong because mermaids are real.” The woman smirked at the little girl.

Darcy frowned. “My daddy is a scientist, he studies the ocean. Believe me, he’s looked.”

“Not hard enough, they are elusive creatures.” The woman shrugs her shoulders as she gives Darcy a smile. “And even the most enlightened scholars can be wrong.”

Darcy stared at the woman in bewilderment. There is no such thing as mermaids, everyone knows that. Did this adult really believe in mermaids?

“Are you teasing me?” Darcy asked the woman dubiously.

“No, I am being sincere, I promise.” The woman chuckled.

There was nothing Darcy could do if this woman was adamant about mermaids being real. This wouldn’t be the first time Darcy knew someone who truly believed mermaids existed. Darcy sighed, looking back to the exhibit.

“So if you do not believe in mermaids, which one is your favorite?” The woman leaned forward a bit, tilting her head as she looked at Darcy.

Darcy was silent for a long time, but the woman never urged her for an answer. At long last, Darcy spoke.

“Sea horses.”

The woman smiled, Darcy couldn’t help but smile back.

“Show me.”

And so she did. Taking the woman’s hand, Darcy led her to her favorite place in the entire aquarium. Taking her back near the entrance, passing the main Tropical Reef exhibit, and into a hidden darkened room. All the other visitors had already moved on and the room was near silent. It was how Darcy preferred it.

Still holding the woman’s hand, they wordlessly walked right up to a small exhibit. There, in the blue water, were the golden sea horses that Darcy loved. Softly floating from one rock to the next.

The woman ran her fingertips over the plaque, mouthing out the words. “Leafy Sea Dragons?” The woman looked to Darcy.

“They were my mom’s favorite,” Darcy whispered, her gaze never leaving the sea horses.

The woman said nothing as she gazed gently at Darcy. The little girl’s longing gaze yet gentle smile was enough for the woman to understand. Silently, she returned to look back at them as well, leaving Darcy in peace to reminisce. And there they stayed in silence, simply basking in the beautiful creature’s presence.

With a deep breath, Darcy took the woman’s hand and led them to the cafeteria, where Darcy learned that the woman didn’t have money, nor did she seem to know what money even was. Darcy paid for both of their meals.

“What’s your name?” Darcy asked as she swallowed her ham and cheese sandwich.

“My my, we just met and you’re already asking me such forward questions.” The woman smirked, her eyes seemed to sparkle in mischief. “You don’t even introduce yourself and yet you wish to know my name?”

Darcy couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m Darcy.”

“Darcy,” The woman repeated the name carefully, “It suits you well.”

“Thanks, my mom picked it. My dad wanted to name me Sarah.” Darcy finished as she took another bite of her sandwich.

“Well Darcy, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Mingzhu.”

“Mingzhu? Is that your real name or your cosplay?”

The woman frowned. “Cos-play? What is cosplay?”

Darcy shrugged, “I don’t really know, but my cousin does it sometimes. He dresses up as characters and pretends to be them.”

“Ah, no. No, it is my real name. I do not… Cosplay. I really look like this.” Mingzhu said, “Well when I am in this form anyway.”

Darcy shook her head with a smile. “Are you from Japan? My cousin wants to go to Japan.”

“I’m not surprised, Japan is beautiful. Especially in the spring.” Mingzhu commented. “But no, I am not from Japan.”

“Have you been to Japan?” Darcy stared curiously at her.

“I have. Although I am sure many things have changed by now, it’s been years since I’ve traveled there.”

Darcy pondered on that for a while, “What made you want to come here then?”

“I was drawn here by the water and food, I came here last night actually.” She answered simply.

“No, I mean, why did you come to California?” Darcy clarified.

At that, a smirk crossed Mingzhu’s lips. “Curious little thing aren’t you? Very well, I will tell you if you tell me why you wandered off from your pod.”

“My pod? Oh you mean my class.” Darcy thought it over before she nodded. “Okay. I didn’t mean to, sometimes it just happens.”

“What happens?” Mingzhu pressed.

Darcy shrugged as she looked at her hands. “Sometimes things just make me feel… lost? I don’t know.” Darcy admitted.

Mingzhu hummed thoughtfully, “I understand. I feel that way too sometimes.”

Darcy looked back to the woman, “So… why are you here?”

Mingzhu’s smirk returned, she leaned forward. “I am here to repay a kind act a man showed onto me three years ago.”

“Why did you wait three years?” Darcy asked.

“I was wounded, I had to heal, and then I had to learn where exactly California was.” Mingzhu huffed as she leaned back in her chair, a pout on her lips as she huffed.

“So where are you from?” The little girl asked as she sipped her milk carton.

“From far away.” The woman stabbed her fork into her salad. Darcy mused that she wasn’t used to eating without chopsticks.

“But where?” Darcy pressed.

“A cave.” Mingzhu finally managed to get the food onto the fork.

“A cave?” Darcy asked skeptically.

“A very nice cave. Full of sea glass, pearls, and jewels.”

Darcy shook her head, her shoulders shaking as she laughed. “That sounds like a dragon.”

Mingzhu tilted her head, “Really. How so?”

Darcy shrugged her shoulders, “My cousin plays stuff about dragons, fairies, and stuff with his friends. Dragons are bad, mean, and greedy. They keep treasure in caves.”

Mingzhu grew more horrified the longer she heard Darcy speak of dragons.

“ I saw a movie where a boy found a dragon and they were best friends,” Darcy commented. “That dragon couldn’t talk though.”

Mingzhu shook her head gently as she chuckled. “Well, where I come from. Dragons are benevolent creatures, not evil. Well, most are not.”

“What’s ben-voilent?”

“Ben-eh-voh-lent. It means kind and good. They could fly, and talk to creatures.”

Darcy made an ‘oh’ shape with her lips before looking down to the remainder of her sandwich. “I wish I had a best friend. Maybe then, I wouldn’t feel so lonely.”

Mingzhu’s heart clenched. How could a child already have such a grave look in her eyes? As if the reality of the world was snuffing out the last fragments of magic and wonder in her.

“Darcy, I-”

“DARCY!” Yelled the voice of Ms. Baker who stood at the entrance of the cafeteria. Turning the heads of many visitors who stopped to stare.

Darcy gasped, she quickly gathered her things, speaking hurriedly. “I gotta go, I forgot I had to go back to school,” she grabbed her sandwich, looking to Mingzhu. “It was nice meeting you Mingzhu! I had a good time. I hope to see you soon!” Darcy called out as she ran to rejoin her class, waving goodbye.

Mingzhu smiled softly as she waved goodbye to the child. Her tender gaze never left Darcy until she was gone from her sight.

Ms. Baker was not pleased that Darcy had strayed away from the group. Darcy pleaded with Ms. Baker not to tell her dad, and Ms. Baker only relented since Darcy knew the aquarium. On the way back to Sea Colt Academy, Darcy looked out of the school bus window, thinking about the stranger woman she had met and their conversation.

As she watched the ocean from her window, she saw something large swimming in the water. It sparkled against the blue water and under the sunlight, and when it dived down, a large pink frilly tail splashed against the water, but in a blink of an eye, it was gone. Darcy deemed that she was simply imagining it. She would probably never see it again. Just like she would probably never see Mingzhu again.

Until the very next day, when Darcy looked out of the classroom’s window, there Mingzhu was. Laying on a tree branch, in the same strange clothes, with the same dazzling smile, and giving Darcy a wave hello.

Darcy dropped her pencil.

Tag's List: Let me know if you wish to be added!

@waltzintherain

[wackapedia]

The Silver Dragon

Peasant! Jungkook x Reader, Daechwita! Yoongi x Reader

Historical AU featuring the whole OT7,Moderate violence, Treason, Royal family drama

Word count: 3.6k

a/n: This was so fun to write i keep surprising myself with the sh!t i come up with

You were taking your morning walk while being followed by your entourage. Your silk hanbok shimmers under the bright sunshine shining down on Hanyang, Joseon’s capital. “Good morning, my lady!” A group of scholars led by Kim Taehyung greets you. “A good day to walk within the palace walls, am I right?” He comments, a sly smile graces his handsome face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You raise an eyebrow at him. He laughs as he tightens his grip on his books. “Oh, nothing, my lady! Have a good day.” He rushes before whispering “please don’t let us catch you scaling the palace walls again, my lady. Your brother, the crown prince already threatened to kick us out if we try to cover for you again!” He pulls away and bows gracefully. You have been sneaking away from the palace lately, disguised in peasant clothing. Court life has been extremely boring, you were looking for an adventure. As a daughter of a king and a concubine, you played a little role in running the kingdom. You were to be married off to someone to strengthen ties with the kingdom and expected to rear sons. Your life would be over before it began.

You and your entourage arrive at the palace’s main courtyard where you see your brother and his troops preparing their horses and cargo wagons. “Are you going somewhere?” you approach your brother. “Yes, we are going to Gyongsang. There are rumors of rebel troops stirring there. Haven’t you heard?” he speaks while securing the saddle to his horse. “Ah is that so? I wouldn’t know the latest rumors, really…” You try to be nonchalant. “You’ve been sneaking out of the palace for a while now, I’m sure you’ve heard a couple of rumors out there?!” he slams a leather bag, startling you. Aigoo, everyone’s out to get me today! You thought to yourself. “Yah! You think I won’t find out?” his hands are on his hips now. His troops try their best to avert their eyes from the royal quarrel. His captain, Park Jimin, who had witnessed this several times only rolls his eyes. Your brother leans closer to you. “I had you followed last week. I know you’re meeting someone. A peasant boy. y/n, This is no time for playing around. Something big is going to happen very soon. I know it. So you better start taking your life seriously.” He mounts his horse and instructs his troops, turning back on you. “Something big?” You wonder to yourself. --- Later in the day, you return to your quarters. There is no other way to pass the time than to do embroidery or read a book on poetry. You’ve memorized every single poem in all 12 volumes of classic poetry in your little bookshelf. You sigh to yourself as you pulled out the last book tucked at the corner of your shelf. 

Classic poetry volume 13 

Your eyes widen at the book’s header. Since when did classic poetry get a 13th volume?! You flip the pages to find it empty, except for the last page, which contained a single stanza.

“The moon will sink twice And the silver dragon will rise Bearing the black stone And will begin the rise of Joseon”

You rush to visit the royal shaman, bringing the 13th book with you. “What does this mean?!” Tossing the book to Hoseok, one of the royal shamans in training. He was nodding off on his desk while studying. Your sudden intrusion startles him, causing him to bounce from his seat. “Huh what?!” he clutches his chest. “Classical poetry only has 12 volumes. Why do I have a 13th one?” Hoseok flips through the pages of the book to find it empty. “My lady, this is just an empty journal…” You take the book from his hands, startling him again. He’s right. Even the title had disappeared. You repeatedly flip through the pages, getting more aggravated. “My lady, are you alright? You're scaring me…” “But there was something here!” You yell. “Silver dragon bearing the black stone!” What does it mean? Hoseok stares at you for a minute before reaching for his brush. He writes down the words in his elegant handwriting. “i-I’ll see what I can find about this…. For now maybe you need to take a rest, my lady. You seem unwell…”

You didn’t have the appetite for dinner that night. You took what you could from the food served to your quarters, wrapping them up before getting dressed in your peasant disguise and sneaked out of the palace. This was your first time leaving at night so you were a little nervous but you made it anyway. Walking through the muddy pavements of Hanyang’s peasant city, you make your way to the familiar hut you’ve always visited when you sneaked out. Jeon Jungkook’s house. Well, it’s not really his, he shares it with several orphaned kids and some around his age. “Kook..?” The hut was dark and quiet, only one candle illuminating the small room. You let yourself inside before spotting Jungkook, the peasant boy you loved, raiding through his chest of belongings. “Y/n?! What are you doing here? its late!” he was evidently surprised. “I really wanted to see you. Plus my brother is travelling to Gyeongsang. Is that a bruise on your cheek?!” You rush to cradle his face marred by a dark bruise on his cheekbone. He smirks before saying “Oh princess, you should see the other guy.” “Who was it?” “Seokjin.” “Again?!” You tell him off. This no longer comes as a surprise to you as the two always bicker at almost any petty topic they choose. “Y/n, what are you doing here?” Jungkook’s tone suddenly went serious. He was unwrapping the cloth that was tied around a long item. He tosses the wrapping to reveal a sword. “Why, what’s going on? Where are the kids?” You look around the empty hut. “Where did you get that?!” “It belonged to my father. Y/n, Listen to me. I need you to go to Seokjin and ask him to take you with him. He’s headed to Gwacheon. I will meet you there as soon as I can.” “What? What’s going on? I thought we were eloping together?!” “There’s no time to explain.” Jungkook puts on a quiver full of arrows over his shoulder and a bow on the other. He blows out the candle and pulls you out of the house. “Do as I say. I will find you in Gwacheon.” He pulls you in for a quick kiss before winking and running to the other way. It was dark and the pathways were empty. During the short walk to Jin’s house, you didn’t encounter a single soul. It scared you. “Jin?” You knock at the wooden door of his tiny hut. It was dark. He was probably asleep. “Seokjin, its me. Kook sent me, and asked me to come with you to Gwacheon?” You were unsure of Kook’s instructions. There was no answer. You pried the door open. The house was completely dark except for the moonlight streaming through the holes in the hay roofing. He wasn’t there. His things aren’t there. He already left for Gwacheon. Confused and tired with all the fuss going on, you walked back to the palace, climbing its walls, and walking straight to your quarters, not bothering to hide from the royal guards. You slept a dreamless sleep.

You jolted awake by the sudden noise from outside your chambers. There were muffled screaming. And then silence. You were too scared to move. You wrapped yourself with the blanket, staying perfectly still on your cushion. The door suddenly slides open, revealing a man in light armor. You don’t recognize his face nor the sigil he wears. “Please get dressed, My Lady. The king summons you.” He gently closes the door, giving you privacy. His calm tone almost makes you forget you were afraid. You carefully rose and got dressed. The sun gradually brightens the sky, illuminating the main courtyard of the palace. The courtyard was littered with dead royal guards, blood staining the stone ground. Horrified, you tried to scream and run but the calm man grabs your arm. “Please don’t. You have nowhere else to go, Lady y/n. everything will be alright.” His calm demeanor fails to rub into you this time as he pulls you up the stairs to the King’s throne hall. “Who are you?” you ask your captor. “I am Kim Namjoon. You have nothing to worry about, my lady.” He points you toward the throne hall. His graceful movement indicates that this man is of noble birth yet he is not familiar to you at all. There were only a few candles lit inside the throne hall. You feel yourself being watched by several pairs of eyes lurking in the dark corners. Sunlight finally enters the throne hall. The wide doors facing east accommodates the sun rising from the edge of the roofed gates of the royal palace. Warmth crawls from its doorstep toward the high platform, up to the Phoenix throne and the stranger sitting on it.

His silver hair glows under the morning light. His skin, smooth and pale like porcelain, marred by a scar down his right eye. By his feet, a pool of blood gathers. The blood of your father, the king, lying headless at the edge of the platform. Your hand flies to your mouth, failing to mask the shock and disbelief. Tears begin to gather at the edge of your eyes, spilling as you blink. Your knees threaten to give in, but you try to hold firm under the scrutinizing gaze of the usurper sitting on the throne. The silver haired stranger descends from the throne platform, walking towards you. His dark robes, moist with blood, cascades behind him almost elegantly. “Your majesty, this is lady y/n, princess of Joseon, Daughter of the deceased king Seondaewang and Concubine Cho.” Namjoon announces. “Ah, the informant!” He stands close to you. Too close. His eyes are pitch black. His pretty face almost distracts you from the bloody hand that tries to reach yours. Informant? “Who are you and what do want?” Your voice trembles with hate. “He is your king-“Namjoon tries to explain. “He is a murderer!” You lash out, pulling your arm from his grasp. The silver-haired man presses his tongue against his cheek before grabbing you by the neck, pulling your face dangerously close to his. “If it wasn’t for this pretty mouth, we’d never know your dear brother had left the capital. I owe you my gratitude." His thumb traces your lip before forcing your head to the side and releases his grip. You come face to face with Jeon Jungkook, wide-eyed, bruised and blood-stained face failing to hide the fear in his eyes. His breathing picks up. “You! How dare you!" Your anger clouds your judgement, tears continuing to spill from your eyes. “Y/n, I didn’t mean for any of this.. I told you to leave with Jin! I told you I would find you!” His pleading falls on your deaf ears, blood rushing through your veins.

“Yoongi!” Namjoon calls the murderer’s attention. A royal guard runs up the stairs, huffing and puffing upon entering the throne hall. “Jimin?!” You call out to him. He briefly glances at you before kneeling in front of the man named Yoongi. “Your majesty, the crown prince and his party has heard of your attack and are on their way here.” Yoongi humorlessly chuckles. “We must prepare to welcome your brother, Princess y/n!” “Where are they now?” Namjoon inquires. “They are in the city.” Jimin reports. Yoongi paces around the throne hall, the soles of his footwear paints bloody footprints on the floor. His fingers pinch at his lips before growling and unsheathing his sword. The ringing of his blade cuts through the silence of the room. He tosses the scabbard to the stone floors and marches toward the throne room’s doors upon hearing the rush of horses at the gates. The palace gates are thrown open, revealing your brother and his small band of troops. The crown prince was terribly outnumbered.

“Min Yoongi!”Your brother screams from across the courtyard. Yoongi stands proud at the top of the stairs, his sword glimmering under the sun. Your eyes shift upon the realization that your brother has called him with his full name. Do they know each other? Your brother continues to march toward the foot of the stone stairs. “How dare you double-cross me?!” “Looks like I double-crossed the double-crosser first…” Yoongi descends gracefully to the courtyard. His men rushes to follow him out. You slowly step out of the throne room, squinting at the morning sun.

“The deal was to assassinate the king, not attack the palace!” Your brother angrily spat. He was too late when he realized you were there, listening to his confession of treason. “y..y/n…” Yoongi laughs and looks up to you from the bottom of the stairs. “That’s right my lady! Your brother, the crown prince asked me to have your father killed! His royal ass couldn’t wait to sit on the throne!”

Oh your poor father. He raised the hand that eventually had him killed. Your father may not have been the best, but it was never right to... Your knees gave in. Your vision blurs. Your throat dries. You don't realize you were letting out a scream of agony. Jungkook tries to break your fall, grabbing your arms before your knees hit the solid ground.

Sounds of steel clashing against steel ring through the palace. Your eyes look up to the sky, bright and blue. The sunlight was obscured by Jungkook's face, eyes full of worry and regret. "Jagiya, breathe. Look at me. Look at me!" His palm lightly taps your cheek, slowly bringing you back to consciousness. Your vision begins to clear. You raise your hand to grip his shoulder. "Can you stand?" Jungkook's muffled voice inquires, as he carefully supports you up. His eyes remain on yours as you take in the battle ensuing below. The sounds feel so far away. Its like being underwater.

There was so much blood. The blue robes of your brother were darkened by blood, belonging to him and his opponent. The crown prince was pinned down by Yoongi who was holding his thin sword against the prince's neck. The royal sword has been abandoned, away from it's owner's reach. The only thing stopping Yoongi from ending the prince is his palm, pressing against the sword. The prince's other hand digs through his robes and procures a knife, which he quickly raises to stab Yoongi repeatedly on his side.

Your hand grips the material on Jungkook's shoulder. A silken twine of a bow. His half-empty quiver of arrows rest against his back. Ripping the bow from him, you do not feel yourself thinking. The next thing you know, an arrow lodges in to someone's head.

The crown prince falls backward upon impact.

You could not stop yourself from nocking another arrow, pointing it toward the silver-haired man. His onyx eyes stare into your soul as he crawls from the bottom of the stairs, clutching his bloodied torso. The string draws as far as the bow allows. You take a deep breath. A muffled voice calls your name. The bow is pulled from your grasp. But the arrow releases anyway.

Your vision blacks out.

----

You wake up with a jolt, immediately sitting upright on the cushion, bunching up the thick covers wrapped around you. The maidservant who had just entered was startled to find you awake. She hurriedly leaves and returns moments later, carrying a pitcher of water. Soon, Jungkook enters the room, a jolly smile plastered on his face upon seeing you. "Jagiya!" He takes your hand in his. "How long has it been?" Your other hand puts down the empty glass. "Two days. I was so worried about you. Do you remember what happened?" He softly asks. You were surprised to remember everything clearly. Your brother's confession, the swordfight, the arrow that killed him, and the arrow that missed because of Namjoon. You nod your head, answering Jungkook's question.

"Where is Yoongi?" You ask. "He's still weak but he's recovering. He lost a lot of blood." Silence takes over between both of you. Carefully, you slip your hand away from Jungkook's grasp. "We're done now, y/n. We can leave this place. Live in a little hut on our own, you and I, away from here. Like what you've always dreamed..." Jungkook breaks the silence, voice filled with hope. "We can leave as soon as you're well..." "I'm not abandoning my people, Jungkook." You firmly state, staring him straight in the eye. "What?" "I'm staying. I need to-" "You know what he'll do to you, right?" Jungkook's voice begins to rise, laced with anger and confusion. "He'll kill you! Or he'll marry you, and you'll end up dead all the same!" "I will not run away from my duty! I wont betray my kingdom." "What about me? don't you love me anymore?" He stands up from beside you. "We were never meant to be, Jungkook." You sit up at the edge of the bed. "Is this because i'm a peasant? Y/n i did all these for you! So you could be free from your royal duties and we could be together!"

"I cant leave now, jungkook! My father is gone and my brother had him killed. If I wont care for my kingdom, who else will?"

"Y/n you're not making any sense! Please think this through!" Jungkook kneels before you, fisting your skirt and crying into it, begging you to choose him. "Please leave, Jungkook."

A few days pass. Jungkook never came back. You guess he's left to return home to Sangju, or wherever he pleases. You spent your days recovering inside your chambers, your maidservants waiting on you. On the fourth day, you decide to summon Namjoon. "He's well, my lady. He gained consciousness this morning." He respectfully answers. "Where is he? May I see him?"

Namjoon takes you to the king's quarters, where Yoongi was staying. The blinds on the window were drawn all the way up to let the sun fill the whole room. He lay peacefully in the middle of the bed, a thick blanket bunched from his waist. His midsection is wrapped with clean gauze. His body is loitered with scars, but the rest of him is as smooth as porcelain. You took in his peaceful state, his breathing steady, and his kind features.

You stood motionless in the middle of the room, almost afraid to disturb his sleep. Namjoon whispers something to him before helping him to sit up. You were content to see his onyx eyes filled with life as they settle on yours.

"Ah there she is! My life saver!" His voice harsh from sleep. Namjoon settles himself at the corner of the room. "Didn't Namjoon tell you that you were my next target before you passed out?" You say, trying to impose yourself. "Before we passed out." He immediately corrects you. "I heard all about it. I like my women feisty. Gets me hard even when I'm losing blood!" He cackles loudly, before wincing at the pain in his midsection. He takes his time to recover. Namjoon makes no move to help him this time.

Once Yoongi recovers from his fit, Namjoon clears his throat and moves closer to the bed. "My lady, we have a proposition for you." Yoongi looks annoyed at Namjoon. "Are we doing this right now?" he asks. Namjoon gives him a look, eventually making the silver haired man sigh in exasperation.

He takes his time to gather his words as you wait patiently for him. He finally musters his words after a good while. "Princess y/n, I am asking for your hand in marriage-" "I accept." You reply, proud and plain. "Now before you protest- HUH" Namjoon's eyebrows almost reaches his hairline, unable to hide his surprise. "Great. Give us a moment, Namjoon." Yoongi huffs, both in relief and in exasperation. His loyal adviser quietly leaves the room.

"I'm not surprised, really. Its something you would do- accepting my proposal." Yoongi laughs a little to himself. "You know nothing about me." You counter his attempted familiarity towards you. "You know nothing about me as well and yet you accepted." He replies, sensing your hostility. "Because I wont let you ruin Joseon." "I have no plans of ruining Joseon. I'm here to help make it a better kingdom" "With methods of tyranny?" Your voice threatens to overpower. He takes his time to think. "Y/n, do you know why my men are from the peasant class? They are tired of being slaves of the rich yangban class. Your father had no plans for change, your brother was even worse." He calmly answers. "So you think they have you instead?" "No. The people have you. They have hope in you. There are rumors of the princess leaving the palace, bringing food for the hungry under the guise of a peasant. This gives people hope. They have placed their trust in you. I knew the moment you pointed that arrow at me that you are the hope of this kingdom."

You thought back to the days when you sneaked out to meet Jungkook. He lived with orphaned children. On your next visit, you brought food for them, and every visit since. It all felt like a lifetime ago. Those little things that didn't matter to you happened to mean so much to those who were really looking hard.

Yoongi slowly gets out of bed and kneels before you. You let him take your hand as he procures a ring made of black jade stone, putting it on your finger.

"If you ever double-cross me, Min Yoongi, I will not hesitate to kill you." "Yes, my queen." He bows before you.

a/n: What are your thoughts let me KNOWW!!  there was a lot going on in this fic oh boy

[meme-spren]

Hello everyone I've barely dipped a toe into the dark and mysterious waters of mechs fandom but I've already inflicted pictures on the discord to see what the squad thinks they do

[Image of Drumbot Brian, seated, looking off to the side]

S: Criminal S: I'm gonna guess morally repugnant P: Well it's a pirate band so that stands to reason S: One bad bad man P: I think this guy would be the captain because who else would wear a full suit and a rose on his hat O: Not captain, I'd think. Captain is for a lead person and drummer is not. O: I wanna say... the one that fires the cannons? P: Probably bard vibes S: It's a band P S: I bet they all have bard vibes R: He looks horny R: He looks like he flirts with everything that moves, that is

[Image of Nastya Rasputina playing her violin]

S: Assassin S: Was assigned to kill one of the band members and just S: Is REALLY into the cover story S: Maybe turned on the people who hired her? S: Maybe about to kill the dude? S: Who knows S: Not even she does

J: Geddy lee from rush realizes she's trans, switches from bass to violin haha classic rock jokes that everyone else here definitely understands

R: Bad luck on a ship is her deal M: I'm gonna tell you this because I hope it'll just raise more questions: she's romantically involved with the ship R: PILOT R: SHIP FUCKER PILOT R: Or engineer S: Yeah I'll still go with my idea

P: I will second pilot P: Also despite being romantically involve with the ship she's somehow the proverbial straight man of the group M: Love how you've drawn the conclusion that everyone else is ridiculous just from these two pictures and the fact that I'm the one presenting them to you

O: Uh, clearly Fiddle here is the Necromancer

[Image of Raphaella La Cognizi singing into a microphone, two other indistinct figures behind her]

J: dlc fenyx dionysus-themed armor and wing skin

O: Hmm, alright so, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say... she's the singer :V M: Why do you assume there's one(1) singer M: (also like: ah yes, the pirate job of... The Singer) O: If One Piece has taught me anything, then yes :V

P: I'm gonna say she's the lookout, because having wings is very handy for getting to or leaving the crow's nest P: She's also the best fighter of the group P: Maybe also the treasurer? or w/e the pirate equivalent is P: Which is why she has fancy velvety clothes with gold decoration P: Actually no scratch that P: Its because her backstory is she ran away from her rich parents

[Image of Ashes O’Reilly playing their bass]

O: Captain, obviously S: Yeah, with that hat

P: Gunner P: Because cigar

R: Lesbian S: If anyone in this crew is cishet I'll bake an edible hat and eat it

[Image of Gunpowder Tim, dimly lit, playing his guitar. His hand is motion blurred and his guitar is dramatically angled toward the viewer]

J: the token bastard warforged S: he has goggles he must be the engineer

M: His last name is Tim J: First name Tiny

O: Goggles on hat are aesthetic. Goggles on forehead means madlad. Either Engineer or something something chemistry, alchemy, whatever. Something that can explode.

[Image of Ivy Alexandria, holding a book in one hand and her flute in the other.]

P: I'm gonna say tough love mom friend P: Probably the smartest one because book P: Maybe the cartographer?

O: I'm gonna say she is smart, but NOT the "meek scholar" type. More like, brains and brawn. People that know how smart she is are surprised by how strong and brutal she can be, those that only have seen her fight are surprised that she is so intelligent

S: She's the quartermaster

[Image of Jonny D’ville, with a hand on his holstered gun]

R: Home of sexual S: Your fav S: He's got a scar and some weird tech on his chest S: I'm guessing he's another fighty boi S: Gunslinger extrordinaire xP P: Trigger happy loose cannon trash boy P: Commonly drunk P: Causes at least half the crew's problems S: Reminds me of [Spades] Slick R: Wait no R: Omnisexual R: Crew omnisexual

O: Stowaway who snuck aboard

[Image of Marius Von Raum, squatting and holding his little claw thing.]

J: Gremlin J: In the sense of gremlins in the works J: Ship gremlin

P: He gambles P: that's his entire job I think he'd also be like, a spymaster of sorts? P: Knows how to get into places or how to chat up the right people to get that juicy gossip

O: That weird head thing makes me think of a doctor, so, I'm gonna say he's the ship doc P: Counter-point: the doctor really should not be carrying live ammunition around O: Counter-Counterpoint 1: Should not? Sure. Doesn't mean wouldn't Counter-Counterpoint 2: Also, Pirates R: Counter counterpoint 3: gunpowder can be used in emergencies to cauterize a wound :mspa:

S: Oh he's definitely a sharpshooter S: That monocle thing looks like a fantasy rangefinder S: Smug bastard energies S: Like S: 17 rogue/2 bard energy

[Image of the Toy Soldier, saluting cheerfully]

S: Conductor? S: Waiter? S: Avatar of the ship? O: Season One antagonist who used to hunt the crew but got defeated and disgraced and joined them to take revenge on its original boss S: If u combine that with my idea of it being the avatar of the ship then that makes for one hell of a TV show P: It does have an aura of not-pirateness about it P: I'm gonna say this is a recurring "antagonist" and is in fact still hunting the crew, except it kind of sucks at its job and is basically no match for these pirates But it keeps up a chipper attitude regardless

[elias-veturius-laia-of-serra]

*Contains Sky SPOILERS*

All my favorite Musa Of Adisa quotes and scenes 🥺  ❤️

“I am Musa of Adisa,” the man says. “Son of Ziad and Azmath of Adisa. Grandson of Mehr and Saira of Adisa. I am also the only friend you have in this city” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Who’s the Beekeeper, and how can I find him?”

“Ah, Laia Of Serra.” His white teeth shine like those of a smug horse. He offers me his arm, and under the brightening sky, I finally get a closer look at his tattoos - dozens of them, big and small, all clustered around a hive.

Bees.

“It’s me, of course,” Musa says. “Don’t tell me you hadn’t guessed.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“You listen. How fast can you get information on the jinn?”

Musa strokes his chin. “Let’s see. It took me a week to learn that you’d broken Elias out of Blackcliff’s dungeons. Six days to learn that you’d set off a riot in Nur. Five to learn what Elias Veturius whispered to in your ear the night he abandoned you in the Tribal desert for Kauf Prison. Two to learn that the Warden-” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Musa and I go back again and again, carrying out those who cannot walk themselves, pulling to safety as many Scholars as we can.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“As I told the story, my attention was on the king. I did not notice the ghuls emerging from the shadows and congregating around the princess. I did not notice them latching themselves on to her like leeches. Musa looks as if he is watching the slow torture of someone he loves—which, I finally realize, he is.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Nikla and I eloped ten years ago,” he says. “We were only a little older than you, but much more foolish. She had an older brother who was supposed to be king. But he died, she was named crown princess, and we grew apart.” I wince at the perfunctory nature of his recitation, a decade of history in four sentences. “I didn’t mention it before because there was no point. We’ve been separated for years. She took my lands, my titles, my fortune—” 

“Your heart.” Musa’s harsh laugh echoes off the hard stone of the buildings on either side of us. “That too,” he says.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Another arrow shoots out of the darkness, but it too misses its mark, dropping in midair—courtesy of Musa’s wights. 

“Nikla!” Musa snarls. “Show yourself!” - A Reaper At The Gates

“When I rush her,” Musa whispers, barely audible, “run.” I’m just processing what he says when he’s past me and heading straight for Nikla. Immediately, silver-armored bodyguards step out of the shadows and attack Musa so swiftly that he is now nothing but a blur.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“Musa’s voice rings in my head. We need you as a voice for the Scholars. We need you as our scim and shield.” - A Reaper At The Gates

“You pull that hood any lower,” Musa of Adisa whispers from beside me, “and people will think you’re a jinn.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Stop waving around your blade, aapan.” Musa uses the Mariner honorific that means “little sister” and speaks with the same exasperation I sometimes hear from Darin. The Beekeeper, as Musa is known, is twenty-eight—older than Darin and I. Perhaps that is why he delights in bossing us around.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Musa eases my hand off the hilt. “You break Elias Veturius out of Blackcliff, burn down Kauf Prison, deliver the Martial Emperor in the middle of a war, face down the Nightbringer more times than I can count,” he says, “and you jump at a loud noise? I thought you were fearless, aapan.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“This . . . thing. This Rehmat. It was living inside you?” 

“Like a parasite?” Musa says. “Or a demon?”

 “Don’t be so horrified,” I say. “Whatever it is, it’s inside you too. All of you. Or so the Jaduna said.” 

Musa looks down, clearly wondering if some fey beastie will burst unexpectedly from his chest. 

“So if one of us had lost our temper and yowled at the Nightbringer—”

 “I did not yowl—” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Laia! Watch it!” a Scholar man with dark skin and long, black hair calls out. He holds off three legionnaires with a scim, a short dagger, and—I squint—a cloud of hundreds of wights who befuddle his foes. They defend him with a vicious protectiveness that wights aren’t known for.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Tend to your wounds,” I say. “Then leave. Go back to the beach. To your boats. To a quick death, it matters not. But you will not enter the Waiting Place.” 

“He’s your brother.” Musa speaks up, nodding to Harper. The Mask gapes at Musa, who doesn’t seem to notice.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“The Soul Catcher gives her a brief, unreadable look. “Yes. One human might slip through the forest undetected by them. But a half dozen? They will know you are here soon enough.” 

“Can’t you just—” Musa puts his hands around his throat and mimes choking—referring no doubt to how the Soul Catcher can steal away breath.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“You’re late.” His armor is splashed with blood, but he doesn’t appear to have any wounds. Musa materializes behind him, limping. “Good in a fight.” Quin nods to the Scholar approvingly.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Not hard to look at, is he?” I jump at the voice next to me, my scim half-drawn. It is Musa, one hand gently nudging my blade back to its scabbard. He has a dozen bruises and as many cuts, most half-healed.

“So jumpy, Shrike. One would think you’d only just escaped a band of Karkauns by the skin of your teeth.” He chuckles darkly at his little joke, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Forgive me,” he says. “Laughing hurts less than facing what happened. I am sorry about Faris. I liked him.”

“Thank you,” I say. “And your joke was terrible, so naturally, Faris would have loved it.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“He pats his face, preening. “Everyone says I’m even more dashing with scars.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Now, Shrike.” Musa follows me reluctantly. “While I do like my women tall and bossy, and while I know this face is difficult to resist, sadly, my heart belongs to another—” “Oh, shut up.” I stop when we’re far from the courtyard. “You’re not that pretty.” He bats his eyelashes at me, and I wish he were just a bit uglier” - Sky Beyond The Storm

“In fact, I’ll offer you a little tidbit right now. Captain Avitas Harper is on his way here. He’s in the northwest corridor, passing that very ugly statue of a yak, and moving rather quickly.” 

“How—” I know how he does it. Still, the specificity is uncanny.

“Ten seconds,” Musa murmurs. “Eight—six—” I stride swiftly away, wincing at the pain lancing up my leg. But I’m not fast enough. 

“Blood Shrike,” Harper calls in a voice that I cannot ignore. I curse Musa as he walks off, laughing quietly.” - Sky Beyond The Storm

“Within the crowd of Karkauns, a squad of my men fight their way toward me, Musa among them. I try to join them, but the Karkauns surround us. Musa disappears, his scims flying, and I remind myself to ask him who the hells trained him before I am inundated by the enemy again.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Just the blather the Karkauns were spewing. Ik tachk mort fid iniqant fi. Haven’t been able to get a translation of it, but—”

“‘Death wakes the great sea,’” Musa translates, nodding a greeting to a group of Scholars as they pass. “Or—no, wait. ‘Death feeds the great sea.’”

I stop in the middle of the hall, ignoring the irritated grunt of a Mask who nearly runs into me. “Why didn’t you tell me you spoke Karkaun?”

 “You didn’t ask.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“My grandfather taught me to fight. He was a palace guard. Saved old King Irmand’s life when he was a boy. Got a beekeeping estate for his trouble. My father became a healer, but I spent more time with the bees. I think they both thought training would toughen me up.”

“Did it?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Go on, insult me,” Musa says. “But you and I are more alike than you know, and that’s not a compliment. You’re in a position of great power, Shrike. It’s a lonely place to be. Most leaders spend their lives using others. Being used. Love isn’t just a luxury for you. It’s a rarity. It’s a gift. Don’t throw it away.”

“I’m not throwing it away.” I stop walking and pull the Scholar around to face me. “I’m afraid, Musa.” I don’t mean to blurt the words out—especially to a man whose arrogance has vexed me from the moment I met him. But to my relief, he does not mock me.

“How many in Antium lost those beloved to them when the Karkauns attacked?” he asks. “How many like Dex, who hide who they love because the Empire would kill them for it?” Musa runs a hand through his black hair, and it sticks up like a bird’s nest. “How many like Laia, betrayed and then left to claw her way through her pain? How many like me, Shrike, pining for someone who no longer exists?” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“But that’s not what we’re talking about,” Musa says. “You are lucky enough to love someone who loves you back. He is alive and breathing and in the same vicinity as you. By the skies, do something about it. For however long you have. For whatever time you get. Because if you don’t, I swear that you’ll regret it. You’ll regret it for all your years.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Do you know where Musa of Adisa was in the fight to take Antium, Pontilius?” I say now. “At my side, bleeding for an Empire he’d never set foot in until a few months ago. Fighting for the Scholars. Tell me, General, where were you during the fighting?” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“As I walk through the freezing palace, I search for a flash of color amid the drear. Musa can always be counted on to wear at least one loud item of clothing—and I need his information now.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Someone who will know how to deal with Musa’s pain. But the Scholar does not release my hand.

“I shouldn’t mourn her.” He wipes his face, and I almost don’t hear him.

“She jailed my father. Took my lands. My title. The Scholars suffered under her rule.” - Sky Beyond The Storm

“We got married a decade ago. I was eighteen. She was nineteen. Her brother was crown prince, but he died of an illness and the palace healer—my father—couldn’t save him. She—” He shakes his head. “Grief took her. The ghuls found ripe prey with her, and they nibbled at her mind for years. And when I spoke of them to her, she called me insane. King Irmand was so grief-stricken after his son’s death that he did not see what was happening to his daughter.”

“My father died in prison. My mother soon after. And yet—” He looks between Harper and me. “I still loved her. I shouldn’t have, but I did.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“I have to go to Marinn,” Musa says. “Find Keris. Kill her. Nikla’s heir is a first cousin. Skies know if he’s still alive, but he’s young. He’ll need help.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“You want me to stay,” he says. “But the Mariners were my people first. They need me. And you owe me a favor, Shrike.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“All the way to Avitas’s quarters, where we can speak without interruption, I think of Musa’s cries. The way he sounded as if his soul had been dug out of his body.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Ah, young love,” Musa says, and I glance at him, wondering if I will see bitterness in his regard. But his smile takes years off his face, which has been drawn and desolate of late.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Love can be more powerful in a battle than planning or strategy. Love keeps us fighting. Love drives us to survive.”

“Skies, stop meddling—”

“I meddle because I hope, aapan.” The humor bleeds from his voice, and I’m certain he’s remembering his beloved, doomed Nikla. “Life is too short not to hope.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Soldiers on both sides of the escarpment stumble to their feet, still shaken from the maelstrom. Musa has an arm under the Blood Shrike’s shoulders, and together they stagger away from the front line, anguish emanating from both.” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“The Blood Shrike, Musa, and I are discussing how the troops should handle any rogue ghosts. When Laia appears, Musa kicks the Shrike in the ankle.

“What the hells, Musa—oh—” - A Sky Beyond The Storm

“Duty gives me a straight back when Musa, his own eyes red at the loss of Darin, finds me and takes me to a line of bodies to be buried in the jinn grove.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Musa is here too, gesturing with the flatbread while flirting with Afya Ara-Nur. The Tribeswoman is still pale from her injury, wincing even as she laughs. Mamie looks amused while Spiro Teluman watches with a dark glare. The smith shouldn’t worry. Musa’s heart is as shattered as mine” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Gird your loins, Shrike.” Musa gives me a sidelong glance. “You’re about to get quite the promotion.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“I heard her tell Zacharias a story last night. He was rapt.”

“Where is he?”

“With Tas, eating moon cakes.” I nod to a cart near Mamie’s wagon, where the young Scholar boy, who appears to have grown a foot since I last saw him, grins as my nephew stuffs a cake into his mouth. Musa, keeping them company, hands over another.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Musa has been invaluable in court, charming Illustrian Paters as easily as he has Scholars. When we broke up the estates of Keris’s top allies, it was Musa who suggested we award them to Scholars and Plebeians who fought in the Battle of Antium. And when grief threatens to consume me, it is Musa who appears with a meal and insists we eat it out in the sunshine. Musa who drags me to the palace kitchens to bake bread with him, and Musa who suggests a visit to Zacharias, even if it means canceling two weeks of court. I thought at first that the Scholar had wights watching me to make sure I did not fall too deeply into despair. But the wights, he told me, are no longer his spies.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“How am I supposed to take the Pater of Gens Visselia seriously when I know he spends most of his time composing odes to his hounds?” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Yes,” I say to his uncertainty. “I want you to stay, Musa.” He lets out a breath.

“Thank the skies,” he says. “I don’t actually like bees very much. Little bastards always sting me. And anyway, you need me around.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“I’m not lonely!” A lie, though Musa is too much a gentleman to call me on it.

“But you are alone, Empress.” A shadow passes across his face, and I know he thinks of his wife, Nikla, dead six months now. “As all those in power are alone. You don’t have to be.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“It should have been him dancing with you,” Musa says, and at the raw emotion in his voice, my eyes heat.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Alas.” The Scholar spins me in a circle, then pulls me back. “We’re the ones who survived, Empress. Unlucky, perhaps, but that’s our lot. And since we’re here, we might as well live.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

“Though I was reluctant moments ago, now I find that I want to give in to that exuberant beat. So does Musa. So we laugh and dance again. We eat a dozen moon cakes and chase away the loneliness, two broken people who, for this night, anyway, make a whole.” - A Sky Beyond the Storm

[allycryz]

Incandesce

Explicit Fic

Thancred x Nerys (WoL) x Emet-Selch / Thancred x Nerys / Emet-Selch x Nerys / Some Thancred x Emet-Selch

When Nerys made the mistake of telling Emet-Selch to surprise her, this is not what she had in mind.

Even more astonishing: that Thancred is interested.

(A lot of other ships mentioned/discussed, primarily Nerys x Haurchefant and Nerys x Estinien x Aymeric)

Shadowbringers Spoilers

[From This Prompt List]

Prompts Used: Hot Springs in Winter / Restraints / Double Penetration Other Tags: Minor Breathplay in the water, Shaping Aether into Extra Hands, Brief Food Mention

Meta Notes:

This is currently not-canon in the general, overarching sense, but everything that happens prior to Nerys entering the hot springs is canon. 

Prelude

Beneath the thickest canopy of trees, Nerys can ignore the great and terrible light above. Pretend she is in the Shroud again. There are Duskwight waiting among the Night’s Blessed for her to return with supplies and reports. Never mind that it’s a name they don’t recognize. The elves of the First separate themselves by region and family, not clan.

Many of Night’s Blessed look like the faces she grew up with. It has...been a long time since she was with such a group. Visiting her parents and Uncle Vaquelin had been lovely, but brief. And that was so long ago now. Before Doma, before Gyr Abania, before Minfilia came here with Ardbert and his companions.

The memory of that long-ago visit conjures Haurchefant, who she had brought with her. Her family loved him–how could they not? It makes her miss him all the more. Their too-brief, too-scarce meetings since her arrival are not enough.

She leaves the nostalgia and safety of the trees behind along with her brooding. People are expecting her. A truth no matter what world she lives on, whether they call her Warrior of Darkness or Light. Nerys is thankful this place doesn’t also remind her of Ishgard. Then the homesickness might turn her brooding into outright tears.

Now. Collecting reeds for the girl’s basket. They should be due south from here.

“Far be it from me to meddle…” Emet-Selch materializes beside her, as if picking up a prior conversation. “But my curiosity outweighs my desire to see where ‘the chips do fall’.”

Nerys turns her gaze toward him without breaking her stride. Last time he did this, she was picking berries and near fell over into the dirt. “Saying ‘far be it from me to meddle’ does not cancel out any subsequent meddling, you know.”

One corner of his mouth tilts up. “I expected my company to be polite enough not to mention it. More fool me.”

“What do I know about manners?” She cannot help herself. Maybe it is the pleased, attractive smirk whenever she says something diverting. Maybe she is tired of all the misfortune around them and needs levity. “I am but a simple warrior, a weapon of brute strength raised in the woods.”

“Self-deprecation does you no favors, my dear. Even when it is clear you know it’s all rubbish.” He waves a hand. “You are among the politest of my enemies.”

“Thank you?”

“Mm. I can be generous.” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Now, about my query. Tell me...which suitor do you think will win out?”

That almost makes her stumble. And she can tell from his expression, he is reliving when she almost fell upon her basket of berries. A rare mishap from her that he will never, ever let her forget. “I...beg your pardon?”

“No need to beg for it, this one is free,” says Emet. His tone is insinuating as ever on that point. “You clearly carry torches for both Masters Waters and Matoya. I get the impression he was your lover at one time? The outline I have of your activities before the Exarch summoned you does not include the gritty details. As for her, only the Hrothgar moons after her more than you do.”

Nerys opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “You truly have been watching, haven’t you?”

“Oh not everything. Mortals are not so difficult to read, once you have practice. And your eyes…” He catches her chin, directing his gaze into hers. “They are terribly expressive, once you know what to look for.”

Emet-Selch wants a reaction. She puts her hands on her hips, lifting an eyebrow. Waiting for him to continue. As if his thumb isn’t stroking over her jaw, gentle as a lover. The touch as stirring as when he graces her with a particularly enticing smile.

“Now...” He does not need her permission to continue so she doesn’t give it. Clearly, this is a soliloquy he wants to perform. “I am not sure you know how many carry a torch for you, and I shan’t spoil it by telling you. But it does make things interesting. Not to mention, this Lord Haurchefant your group often mentions. Shall you abandon your noble suitor for a rogue posing as a knight? Or for a scholar of great and terrible power? Will one of the yet undeclared reveal themselves and win the hero’s heart?”

That heart thuds painfully against her chest. The way he shapes his syllables charges each provoking word. And the directness of those wine-gold eyes, a shade paler than her own but no less piercing for it.

He has gotten so much of it wrong. That does not negate how easily he has gotten so much of it right.

Nerys curls her fingers around his wrist and tugs his hand down. Emet-Selch does not resist, though when their hands are navel-level he twists just so, clasping her wrist in return, They remain locked thus, neither one letting go.

“Surely one as ancient as you, as easily bored as you,” she says. “Must know there are other options.”

“I don’t think a vow of chastity would suit you. Your eyes run too hot upon your comrades-”

“Lord Haurchefant,” she continues. “He is my lover and my beloved. Were I the marrying kind, his ring would be on my finger. That would not stop either of us from sharing physical and emotional intimacy with others.”

Emet-Selch says not a word, betrays no emotion. He does not veer into patronizing congratulations or arrogant dismissal. That same thumb begins to stroke again, over her gauntlet.

“There are others in the Source with such arrangements. I’m delighted to know it’s fairly common in the First.” Nerys cannot resist her smirk. Is this how he feels when he lectures her? “For some, it is about a variety of sexual partners. Sometimes it’s like that for us. More often...we are the kind to fall madly for someone or someones, in addition to wanting the physical parts. So whatever may happen...it is not a matter of winning.”

“Well,” he says, looking at her as if for the first time. Considering.

“Well,” he says again, with a slow smile. “You are full of surprises, my dear. I thank you for not being as boring as I expected.”

“Accuse me of many things, but never that.” Nerys takes a step back, breaking the link of their hands. “But I don’t think my expansive heart is my most unique quality.”

“On that, at least, we agree.” His enigmatic smile inflames just the right amount of curiosity in her. She resists best as she can. “Well, that puts to rest one of my little games. No reason to stay and help you...what is it again? Collecting reeds so a girl may make a basket?”

“Yes, that,” she says. “Would you like to join?”

“Oh, I am not so starved for stimulation to partake.” Purple and black aether swirls around his ankles. “Whistle for me, when you’re doing something actually worthy of a hero.”

“No need,” she says. “Somehow, I think you’ll know.”

He smirks as he disappears.

Weeks Later

"Alone at last."

In one motion: she slams the book shut, jumps up, has the knife pointed and ready. The sharp edge gleams in the lamplight, as bright as his gaze as he sighs at her.

"Really," says Emet-Selch. "I thought we were past this stage."

They were. They are. It doesn’t change that Eulmore is an ever looming spectre at their heels. That this pressure on her chest and shoulders is building. For their last few talks, Ardbert has made sure to catch her attention well before speaking.

She keeps thinking Ran’jit is about to appear and cut her down.

Nerys exhales a breath, blade staying poised for the moment. “Do you always startle trained warriors?"

“Only you, hero.” He touches the pad of his gloved finger against the dagger point. “This is not so beautiful a weapon as your lance."

"A lance is a little more difficult to keep close at all times." It is, in fact, leaning against the wall of her room. Just behind him. By the way his eyes flicker to the side and then to her, he knows it.

They are well past when she might run for it, and brandish it at him. The gaze feels so much like a challenge though, she contemplates it. He wouldn’t expect her to start a physical fight after weeks of banter.

Nerys withdraws the blade.

“It is a well-made little knife. A gift?  I don't recall seeing it on you before."

"I always keep a dagger on me, one never knows when an ambush is coming." She slides it back in the sheath, touch lingering on the deep-plum leather of the hilt. "...But yes, this is new."

"I thought so. From Thancred no doubt, as he has been lavishing attention on you as of late." He steps away, spreading his arms. "He was the paramour I expected to win. At least until you explained that you don't limit yourself to just one."

His words conjure visceral memories without much effort. Her tender, still-aching reconciliation with Thancred at the start of this week. What they could have had in Ala Mhigo had the Exarch not spirited him away the day they meant to talk.

But also, the day in the Rak’tika Greatwood with Emet-Selch. His teasing about the choice she would “have” to make. Her defiant lecture. His fingers on her chin and on her wrist.

"Over Y'shtola, you mean?" She leans her back against the desk, arms crossed. "Or the other admirers you claim I have? Which are who, exactly?"

"Ah, ah, ah," he says with a wag of a finger. His pale gold eyes and wicked mouth brim with laughter. "You will have to try much harder than that to get my secrets."

“Does that mean you won’t explain what ‘alone at last’ means?”

"That one should be obvious, my dear." He remains apart from her but his gaze feel like a touch. Like a stroke of hand over her arm or cheek.

Attraction is like that. And she is adult enough to admit he is attractive–painfully so–without it needing to be a problem. It doesn’t change who they are or that one day, she may need to face him on the battlefield.

(Nerys had been able to face Estinien and Thancred both after all. Though unlike them, this man’s mind is his own. She is certain Zodiark’s pull is not the same as Lahabrea’s or Nidhogg’s.)

"I have been busy of late,” she says. “But surely there are others you might visit."

"None of your Scions will play with me the way you will," he pouts. "Even your scholarly Elezen friend will only suffer me so long."

Nerys laughs. "Who says I am willing to play with you? Or that is what we do?"

Emet-Selch’s expression reminds her of Aymeric’s cat, affronted over Nerys taking his spot upon the chaise lounge that one time. Unlike Sainte, he does not stomp away with a disgruntled noise. “I have never lied to you. Do me the favor of not lying to me.”

"Never?" She asks without real conviction. Nerys is certain he has not lied to her or anyone in their group. Omitted, yes. Likely a great deal.

“Never.” Emet-Selch crosses the space, moving close to her. The fur of his jacket brushes against the front of her gray linen gown. He leans in, leans in, his breath tickles her face and she tries not to give him the reaction he seeks.

He gets so close his lips graze her cheek and she breaks, breath hitching. And then he leans past her, reaching behind to take up the book she closed. "Collected Folk Tales of Lakeland. I admit, I expected something related to your quest."

His face is hidden but she feels his smirk as keenly as she feels the heat of his body against her. "I needed a little break and stories always cheer me. I wish the ones I heard as a child were collected somewhere."

"Ah, but they lose magic that way, don't they?" He breathes into her ear. "Some in the telling, but far more when we commit them to the page."

Don't shiver. Don't react. "Why not have the stories both ways?"

His chuckle is low. "Why not indeed. You do not like to make choices, do you?"

"It isn't that." Her arms remain folded against her chest. Still, if someone were to come in they would think something else was happening. And that would not be a full lie.

On impulse, her eyes flicker about to make sure Ardbert isn't there.

"Too many people reduce life to hard, either-or decisions," she says. "And I have found there is almost always a third or fourth or fifth way."

"An optimist. How very…" Emet-Selch pulls back to look at her. Sighs. "Very boring. I expected better, given all the pathos I have seen in your eyes."

"I'm sorry to disappoint." She turns towards the book, straightening her disrupted papers.

His hands come down on either side of her, balancing against the gentle curve of the desk edge. She is caged, with his breath upon her nape and his body a wall of flame grazing her back. Nerys has managed this session to not rise to his bait, but her resolve is weakening and this does not help.

Attraction does not have to mean anything. You have the will, to have it be a simple fact; not a catalyst or excuse.

"Come now,” he murmurs. His nose tickles the back of her neck. The skin there is extra sensitive; hair freshly trimmed to the new, shorter length. “You have a better retort than that."

"You think so? Maybe you're the optimist."

His laugh is a puff of air upon her. "Better, but still sloppy. I expect more from my playmate."

She wants to argue that point but he has already exposed her defense for the lie it is. Call it play or teasing, Nerys does enjoy these times. When she might pretend he is just a handsome man come only for banter; not...whatever they are to each other or will be.

She enjoys him.

Her eyes flicker to the window. Fading sunlight catches the light fall of snow, the first in a long time for Lakeland. It pulls at her heart for another reason: terrible homesickness for Ishgard. And the position of the sun now means-

"I have to cut this ‘play session’ short. I'm expected elsewhere." Nerys turns in the cage of his arms and gives him a gentle push. "And you're not allowed to be in my room when I am gone."

"Spoilsport. Whatever do you expect me to do? Languish in waiting?"

Her way cleared, Nerys moves past him to the bag she packed earlier. Just a small thing with the necessities for this jaunt...and if she doesn’t sleep in her room tonight. "I know you'll think of something. Surprise me."

As soon as she says it, she regrets it. Too late, his smirk is wide, his face lit with enthusiasm. “I can do that.”

He disappears in a swirl of aether. Nerys wonders if she made a fatal error.

---------

Amaros fly them to the Ostall Imperative. From there, she and Thancred walk the forest path. The creatures of the lilac-and-bone-colored forest keep their distance tonight, many hiding from the strange weather. They still need to be alert though, lest they or brigands cross the path.

Even still, she keeps having to look at him. Assure herself he is there, with her. Truly with her. Their hands brush together once, twice, three times before he at last laces their fingers together. Smiles up at her with a look that stills her breath no matter how many times it happens.

She has loved him...a long time. Grieved him in different ways for different reasons for a long time. And now here he is, having asked for another chance and she hopes this week is not a long, wishful dream.

“It’s never snowed while you’ve been here?” Nerys asks, using her free hand to dust the flakes off her shoulders. Five long years here, under the horrible light. She cannot imagine. No wonder he felt like a stranger when first they found each other in Laxan Loft.

"Not that I've seen. You've brought balance back to the place."

"We have, not just I." She squeezes his hand.

Thancred chuckles. "You should take the credit."

"So should you. And-"

He cups her cheek, tugging her down into a kiss. Deep and soft and intoxicating. All week he has caressed her like this, each time overwhelming her with the gentle sensuality of it. She can almost forgive him doing it just to win an argument. Almost, until she pulls back and sees the old familiar gleam, the old familiar smirk.

"You can't...do that every time." Nerys says, a little breathless. Hands still gripping the supple material of his coat like a lifeline.

"I would never. Only some of the time." His smirk grows. Twelve, but she missed that expression on his face. Not that she loves this new, more serious Thancred any less. Every part of him, every facet, she adores. "Though, I think I need to do it once more."

Never mind whoever waits for them. Now that she can touch him like this again, feel him like this again, she never wants to stop. And from the way his hands grip her, run over her sides and hips, he doesn't either. She presses herself close to him, lips tracing the line of his jaw to the shell of his ear.

Thancred pulls himself back, eyes hot. "If we don't start walking again, I'm going to drag you into the bushes."

She doesn't move. "That isn't incentive to walk."

"I should have known better." He holds out a hand and she takes it, surprised when he starts down the path again. “Come along.”

He must want this date to happen as planned. Thinking about it...they have not had many formal engagements like this. They were either comrades or they were lovers. Maybe there would be a trip to the market or a shared drink in Revenant’s Toll between battles and bed.

Nerys wonders if he might be inspired to poetry, like he had once with his other paramours. Not all of his couplets were groanworthy.

Bosta-Bea awaits them at Clearmelt, her smile wide and welcoming. The sign near her declares that the springs closed at sundown. That alone means Thancred put down a lot of coin for this. Bosta-Bea’s excellent humor doubly verifies it.

“I’ll be just inside if anyone tries to bother you,” she says after greetings and pleasantries are exchanged. “I doubt anyone will but just in case…”

“My thanks,” says Thancred. He hasn’t let go of her hand yet and he squeezes it while he speaks. “The changing rooms are just through there?”

“Yes, with towels to use in the bath.” Bosta-Bea ushers them through to the first room. It’s filled with large stalls that each contain shower, changing room, and locker. Everything hums with magic, likely a number of convenience charms throughout to dry hair and keep belongings safe.

In her own stall, Nerys strips away her leathers. The cool air of the new winter prickles over her skin until she can get under the hot water, rinsing the day off. She is still not used to washing shorter hair. Her hands reach for phantom length to lather with shampoo.

Nerys misses her curls. The haircut was necessary. For catharsis: chopping away locks that held memories of the past moons. For symbolism: starting again, refusing to let grief weigh her down.

And she did it in the city she calls home. Jandelaine paid a house call to the Fortemps Manor. Lord Edmont tried not to hover. Artoirel did hover, repeating questions and bringing her cups of tea and plates of orange-cardamom shortbread.

The hole in her heart began to scab over, the patch knit in tandem with her brother and second father; her friend wielding his scissors; and all Aymeric and Estinien did for her and with her the days and nights following her rescue from the Ascian in Zenos’ body.

Nerys is glad she did it.

Even still, she misses the length and the curl. Hasn’t acclimated to the change yet. Everyone has been complimentary. Thancred spent last night and the night before murmuring about her beauty as he took her apart. And Emet-Selch-

She yanks on the knob, turning off the shower and the intrusive thoughts with them.

The charms she expected are present, drawing the moisture from her skin and hair. Most don’t submerge themselves fully in these springs, never mind the new addition of cold wind and snow. Nerys wraps the soft towel around her body, slips her feet into the provided sandals. She takes her pack and lance with her. No offense to the lockers, but trouble never picks a convenient time to find her.

The first thing she sees is his gunblade propped up against one of the walls, just out of range of water but close enough to run for. She laughs and walks over, doing the same with her lance before taking the knife from her bag.

"Knifeplay?" Thancred asks. "I'm not sure I want to introduce that in this setting."

She turns to him with a snappy remark but it dissolves away.

He sprawls against the side of the bath, arms draped over the edge and head tipped back. What she can see of his muscled chest gleams with moisture in the moonlight. The light snow falls on his cheek.

“Nerys? It’s cold out.”

“It’s uncharacteristically cold tonight,” he said, standing outside her room at the Pendants. A pile of blankets in his hand. Two nights ago. Three days after they agreed to begin again, starting a slow and sometimes aching courtship.

Her chest tightened. “You had better come in then.”

“Just to deliver the blankets?” His eyes gleamed.

“Hm…” She pulled him inside. “That’s a start.”

His towel is folded, just within reach outside of the pool. Well then. Nerys lets hers fall, watching his eyes rake over her lush curves to the apex between her thighs. She takes her time walking over. A swell of pleasure rises in her gut. At the water’s edge, she bends at the waist to set towel and knife down within easy reach.

"You should come here," he says, a soft growl beneath his words. She fights the shudder wanting to rip through her.

"Just a minute." She slips out of the sandals. Dips a toe into the water, testing it. He starts to move towards her, but stops all at once when she holds up a hand. "Sit. Stay."

Thancred smirks. "You remember right? That I always repay you when you tease me."

A soft warmth incongruous to the moment floods her chest and she is helpless not to smile at him with soft eyes and a softer voice. "I have never forgotten a single moment, Thancred."

He swallows, his eyes telling the jumble of emotions roiling in him. She can see all the Thancreds she has known–the serious, protective Thancred, the closed-off and grieving Thancred. The teasing, playful Thancred who seduced her all over Mor Dhona. The attentive, caring Thancred who always knew when she needed him to take over and give her release, or when to let her hold the reins.

The loving Thancred, though neither of them have said the word yet.

"Nerys," he says, voice raw. "Come here."

She goes to him, sliding into the water and into his arms, into his lap as he embraces her. His tongue slides over her bottom lip and she opens to him, lets him plunder her mouth as his hands slide over her hips and waist. Traces her new scars, every mark she has earned since the Bloody Banquet. She finds the ones he has gained since, and where the First has failed to duplicate them. His soul is a near-perfect copy of the body in the Source, but there are small differences.

He parts from her after an eternity, gasping as he rests his forehead on her shoulder. "My plan was for a long, slow night of seduction. And yet, here we are."

“We always end up here,” she says with a laugh. Just as they had meant to take things slow, at least a few weeks before they became lovers again. Why had they ever thought that was a good idea? "Didn't you have any company, these five years?"

"Very little," he admits. "Almost none, once I took in Min-...Ryne. I couldn't exactly leave her to wait at a campsite while I lurked in a tavern looking for a companion."

"Very little," she repeats, cupping the side of his neck and the tattoo. Rubbing it gently. "You don't have to tell me details but...anyone I know?"

He smiles; a little sad, a little soft. "Despite having all the time to do so...no, I didn't make a move on either of them. By the time they got here, I was once again wrapped in my anger and grief."

Nerys sighs and kisses his forehead. "At our pace, neither of us will confess to Y'shtola before our sixtieth Nameday." As to when he might speak to Urianger, maybe before his fiftieth.

His laugh is gentle. "I forgot you were an optimist."

The word startles her in a way she can’t disguise and Thancred is alert all at once, ready to ease whatever troubles her. She shakes her head to assuage him. “Nothing. Nothing, just reminded me of a conversation I had with...someone, earlier.”

“Sweetheart.” The old endearment enfolds her in its warmth despite the slight reproof. “I can guess who from the evasion. It won’t bother me.”

"The last thing I want is to cause you more pain."

“He is not Lahabrea.” Thancred squeezes her hip. "Not that I am fond of our 'friend.' But it won't injure me to know you talk to him."

"Alright." She wraps her arms about his neck to better balance herself. The cold air and fall of snow prickle at her shoulders and chest, a sharp contrast to the heat of the water and where their skin presses together.

"And what about you?" He asks, shifting his leg just so between her thighs. No pressure against her center, not yet. "Was there anyone since I saw you? I know it wasn’t five years for you but..."

"Ah...yes." More heat rises in her. "...Estinien and Aymeric."

Thancred’s eyebrows shoot up. "Both? At the same time?"

“Mm.” Nerys finds herself ducking her head, vulnerable. Those stolen nights in Ishgard seem a dream now, all the more because she had thought it would never happen. And had made peace with that. "Estinien walked in on us and...well, they are a couple. It wasn't so odd to invite him…"

"And you’ve wanted him as long as you wanted Aymeric," says Thancred. He has that smug expression he gets sometimes. “Perhaps for longer. I wondered when it would happen.”

She huffs, scowling. "Is this what you do? Figure out who I am in love with and wait for me to say something?"

"I can't help it." He dips his head, kissing her shoulder. "I seem to have an extra sense for this sort of thing with you."

“I’m glad we found each other.” She means it teasing but again, her words come out warm with emotion. How long till she can stop feeling so much relief to have him in her arms? Sometimes she thinks she feels more than she is supposed to, with no way to stem the tide.

“So am I.” That leg moves with purpose now, nudging against her folds. He leans forward, catching her cold-stiffened nipple between his lips. She gasps, a low moan following right after. Thancred smirks and looks up at her. “Your exploits make for stirring tales.”

“Well, that answers that.”

In an instant, Nerys is up with the knife while Thancred rises, his fists raised. Their usual weapons are just far enough that blades and hands make sense for the interim.

Emet-Selch lounges on the opposite side of the bath, chest and below submerged in the water. He chuckles. "This is the second time you've aimed a blade at me today. I'm starting to think you don't like me."

Thancred growls. "You're trespassing, Ascian."

"Oh?" He shrugs. Nerys refuses to note how well-sculpted his shoulders are. "I wasn't aware you owned these natural springs, the night air…"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Mayhaps. But I was practically invited. Isn't that right, my dear?" Emet-Selch turns his gaze to Nerys, making no secret of how his eyes sweep over her nude body, her erect nipples, the drops of water coursing down her blue-gray skin.

She is already bare and it still feels like he is undressing her with his gaze.

“What? No.” She shakes her head at Thancred’s shocked expression. “No. When I said ‘surprise me’, this is not what I meant.”

“Well, this is why being specific is important." Emet sighs, sinking deeper into the water. “Will you put that knife down? Having two things pointing at my way is rather disconcerting...though stimulating."

At that, Thancred seems to remember he is naked and erect, though the cold air is working to amend the second problem. He sinks back into the water.

Nerys stoops to set the knife down, one arm shielded over her breasts and trying keep her thighs together. It wreaks havoc on her balance and makes Emet look even more amused. She gives up–he has already seen her–and sinks back into the water without further attempts at modesty.

The Emperor was a soldier, in his way. If his immortality hadn’t made him immune to being scandalized, being in the barracks surely had. As soon as she sits, Thancred slides an anchoring arm about her waist.

"Better," says Emet. "No wonder you have been neglecting me to spend all your time with him, hero. He is rather spectacular, beneath all the scowls he sends my way."

Thancred rolls his eyes. “You got your surprise and answered your question. Whatever that was.”

“Oh, that?” Emet-Selch’s smirk unfurls, slow as honey without the sweetness. “Our Warrior told me about Lord Haurchefant, how open they are with each other. I wondered if she was so with her other paramours, talking freely about her conquests."

Thancred glances her way again.  There was no reason to volunteer that information, it just...came up. When provoked, to be fair. Every other time she’s spoken about it...no she cannot say it was always to score points against Emet.

The look he gives her isn’t accusatory, she realises. It is...considering.

“And then here I find you two, comparing notes. Well, comparing notes against near celibacy. Either way, it’s very interesting.”

Nerys squeezes Thancred’s knee below the water. Rubs her thumb over the joint. “How long were you there?”

“Oh, long enough to be enjoyable but not so much to have been rude.” He slides a hand through his hair, pushing back locks damp from steam and snow. It...does things for his face, which he likely knows. “I did tell you that I like to watch.”

“Had your fill then?” Thancred asks, squeezing her hip.

"It takes much more to sate me. But it seems you two will be boring and stare at me till I leave." He sighs. "And as you are both submerged, I cannot even have something nice to look at. So, I suppose I'll go…"

No wait- She almost says.

She almost says! Twelve, Fury, whoever was listening, preserve; Nerys had actually thought of asking him to stay. This attraction is more dangerous than she thought. Clearly she is not so cool and objective about his beauty, if she is so on the verge.

Thancred goes very still beside her.

Nerys curses inwardly. Of course he catches on. This is what he does–understand what she wants before she admits it to herself. And that is all fine...until it is this man behind everything they have fought, everything that has hurt them and taken away their loved ones.

Attraction is not harmless and objective if Thancred is beside her, hurting because of it and her.

“Depends,” says Thancred, squeezing her hip again. “Are you going to sit there and make remarks, or are you going to do something useful?"

What?

She turns to Thancred, at a loss. Even at his most reckless, he wouldn’t invite an enemy to...maybe she misunderstands.

Emet-Selch is very still, the self-satisfied expression gone from his face. Thancred has surprised them both.

“Are you…” She swallows and starts again. “Are you saying…”

“You’re attracted to him, and he to you.” Thancred says, pressing lips to her temple. The soft pressure is unlike the rigid way he holds himself, tension all through his body. “And while neither of us trust him, sex doesn't have to require that.”

It doesn’t, but it always has for her. Even one night with a stranger requires someone she feels relatively safe with. More than that–he isn’t telling the whole truth. He isn’t testing her. That isn’t his way. But he has a reason she can’t guess at yet.

She does not trust Emet-Selch. He is not safe.

But. But.

If...when he strikes, it will not be while making love to them. It seems too gauche, too crude for him. There have been other times, more seemly times he might have waited for her to lower her guard. Like hours ago, when she presented her back to him and he had all but molded to it.

And she trusts Thancred.

“Okay,” she says. Not even sure that Emet will agree or if he is about to laugh at their temerity. Two sundered beings, thinking they might bring pleasure to an Ascian. “But if anyone says stop, we stop. No questions asked.”

“Agreed.” Thancred says, keeping her close to him.

Emet begins to rise until Thancred lifts a hand, gesturing for him to stay put. Clearly amused, the other man complies.

Nerys startles when Thancred lifts her into his arms and out of the water, carried like a bride through the chill air. He has always been strong but...he lifts her as if she is nothing. His muscles speak to the strength he has honed these five years but still, she hadn’t grasped the change. Not until now, cradled against his chest with her long legs dangling over his arms.

Thancred crouches, setting her into Emet’s lap with her back against the Ascian’s chest, smoothing his hands over her arms before he lets go. At once, Emet slides his hands around to palm her breasts. She gasps at the electric touch–both too much and not enough.

He is not shy. And he is not going to dismiss them.

His hands feel better than he imagined. And she can admit now: she imagined.

"I've no idea what you're trying to prove, Thancred." Emet says, breath against her ear. "But as it gives me something I want, I will examine it later."

Something in her clenches at that. “When you spoke of play...have you been flirting this whole time? Or was that just to rile me?”

“Yes.” Emet presses his lips to the side of her neck, feather light. Almost imperceptible. His hands are the opposite, purposeful as they knead her breasts, roll her dark purple nipples between his fingers until she squirms on his lap. It’s like he knew how sensitive she would be there.

Thancred’s hand reaches behind her, gripping somewhere on Emet. His shoulder? Digging into his hair? He has to lean in close to do it and Nerys takes advantage. She presses her mouth to his brown nipple, chasing a rivulet of water down his chest. Sweet, just like he can be.

"You don't put anything inside her until I say so," says Thancred. His voice is harsh but he shivers beneath her lips.

"Oh," Emet breathes. "Do you always let him boss you like that, my dear?"

He squeezes her left breast and she gasps against Thancred instead of answering. All at once he stills, waiting for her response. “S-sometimes. It depends.”

That earns her more pressure against her needful flesh, the fingers pinching just so. “Tell me.”

Nerys tries to look back at him. He frees one hand to catch her chin, directing her eyes back to Thancred who kneels before her. It almost doesn’t feel real, without seeing Emet and his smile and his pale-gold eyes. It could be anyone behind her, certainly not him of all people.

Except that voice. She would know it in the haunting light of Kholusia or in the darkest cave of the Night’s Blessed. At some point, he slipped under skin as if he was meant to be there.

Thancred watches them, running one hand up and down the outside of her thigh in slow strokes. The other is underwater, mirroring the touches on himself. He nods, giving her permission to tell their secrets.

“We...switch,” she says. “I often prefer someone to hold my reins. But...sometimes I like telling him what to do. Withholding from him until he is good. Making him beg.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Emet purrs, proving just how long he watched them. She frowns and puts her hand on his wrist, giving it a light squeeze.

“That’s his name for me. You need to choose your own.”

He sighs and she can feel his eyes rolling. Dramatically. “Oh, very well. I suppose I could continue calling you my dear.”

At those words, his teeth sink into her earlobe and his hands resume their kneading. His erection presses at her under the water, the thickness apparent just from the feel of him. She resists the urge to grind against it, lest it end things too soon.

"Any other orders, Thancred? Or are you content to watch me tease her until she begs for release?"

Thancred cups her face between his hands and kisses her, unhurried and deep. She grows pliant under the luxurious touch of both men. No reins desired in her hands tonight. And from the glint in his eyes when he parts from her, Thancred can tell.

“Hold her arms behind her,” he says. “And you’ll be nice for us, won’t you sweetheart? He shouldn’t have to worry about holding you back."

"I'll play nice. This time."

“Ha." He nips her jaw. "Say stop, and we stop. And if you can’t speak, go very still and I will too.”

Nerys nods. Strong hands grip her arms, arranging them to cross behind her back before locking tight upon her. Except-

Except, there are still fingers on her breast. Palms anchoring her hips tight against Emet. She looks down and sees black and purple aether in the vague shape of hands, cupping her aching chest.

Emet chuckles, low and dark. His cock twitches against her. "I have my talents."

Twelve. Growing wet is...different in hot water. But there is still a heated, slick pulse between her legs and her hips try to jerk in response to the idea of what he could do with all those hands. The heat filling her has nothing to do with the springs.

Thancred pushes the aether-hands off her chest so he can cup her breasts, drawing them up as he lowers his mouth to suckle at one. Her head tips back and Emet-Selch takes advantage, lips pressing to the side of her neck. The barest hint of teeth whispers with them.

“So sweet, so good,” murmurs Thancred. His large, callused hands slide over her as his tongue traces her nipple. "What do you want tonight?"

Nerys can barely shiver, the hold on her is so tight and strong. Emet’s fingers pulse against her, firm but not harsh on her skin. “I want you. I want you both. However you want me.”

He smiles and she readies to receive another litany of compliments. The words always flow from him when he is amorous, praising every twitch of her muscles, every way she takes him into her. Instead, he rewards her with another dizzying kiss; so intense she forgets herself and tries to throw her arms about him.

Emet tightens his grip, tutting against her neck.  "And she was so well behaved until now."

“Sorry,” she murmurs against Thancred’s mouth. “I just-I need to feel you-”

“Shh, it’s alright.” Thancred hushes her, his fingers against her mouth as he moves into her space. She parts her lips and takes the tip of one, swirling her tongue about it. “Ah, I’ll give you what you need.”

He slides a hand onto the back of her neck, nudging her down while she continues lathing his finger. The many hands clutching her accommodate, till she is suspended and bent over, balanced by the arms held taut behind her, barely on Emet’s lap. Her chin dips into the hot water and she stares up through lowered lashes.

Thancred stands, sliding a hand to grip just beneath the swollen head of his cock.  Not as thick as what she feels against her rump, but it has grown to its full aroused length. Emet hums appreciatively, likely at the outstanding number of ilms on display. She thinks–it is hard to think, held like this, a slip away from all of her sinking into the water, his cock before her-

She thinks there are more hands on her now, thumbs rubbing subtle, light circles into her arms and legs and ankles. Emet follows the orders; nothing is inside her yet. But oh how she wants there to be, an end to the sweet torture of the many teasing touches.

“Well?” Emet asks. “Are you going to give her what she needs? You certainly have enough of it.”

Thancred smirks over her head, slowing the pace of his stroke as he goes from root to tip. Caressing each bit of the shaft before swirling his thumb over the head, worrying at his lip when he does so. Both she and Emet make pleased sounds at the same time, hers much more needy and inelegant.

At last, Thancred slides one hand into her short locks; keeping her in place as he guides himself into her mouth. Slow at first, then pressing deep as she relaxes her mouth and throat. She cannot take him all the way but she tries, savoring the heady taste of him and spring water until her toes curl.

He fucks into her mouth, his hips jerking in quick thrusts. The water splashes up her face and she closes her eyes, the sensations heightening the moment she does. Over the splashing she hears Thancred say something. In response, two fingers plunge into her folds. In and out, pulling back as soon as she tries to grind against them.

She thinks they are Emet’s flesh hands. She cannot be sure.

Nerys squirms to free herself, needing to touch Thancred. Run her hands over his shaft where her mouth cannot possibly go. The grip on her limbs tightens, a third finger slides into her. She can feel Emet’s body move with a chuckle even though she can only hear the water splashing over her nose and closed eyelids. The threat to her breathing goads her pleasure.

Thancred’s grip in her hair tightens, the other hand joining to burrow in the violet and white strands. His fingers in her scalp send a new wave of feeling through her. She moans around him, the pressure in her building but with no outlet in sight.

His thrusts speed up and she knows what is about to happen, groans in encouragement as his release pours into her. He doesn’t let go, not until he is fully spent and the momentum gives way. She can hear him now, the running litany of praise he must have kept up the whole time. “-so good, so good you did so well…”

He drags her off him and kneels, pressing her to sit again with her back against Emet, lips brushing against hers as she swallows and catches her breath. Nerys opens her mouth to him and he follows her, tasting her more fully. Tasting himself more fully.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “I feel like I’m close but also not at all.”

“I can take care of that.” Thancred says, kissing her forehead. He takes a deep breath and submerges beneath the water. She isn’t sure what he’s about until his mouth latches onto her clit, sucking as much as he can below. The fingers inside her curl

“Fuck,” she hisses again. They’re going to eviscerate her like this.

“Look at you.” Emet says, mouthing along her shoulder. "How easily you come apart. How eager you are to obey, and he is not half so dominating as I would be."

She moans–from his fingers, Thancred’s mouth, the implicit promise in Emet’s words. Nerys answers the challenge in them instead. “I-I know he’ll make it good for me. I d-don’t need that much encouragement.”

“Implying what? You aren’t so assured of me?” He catches her chin between thumb and forefinger, turning her head back towards him until it almost hurts. The edge of pain thrills down her spine, joining the rest of the heightened feelings in her. “I think you can accurately guess the heights I could drive you to.”

His breath tickles the corner of her mouth. At last she sees his eyes and the roaring fire they contain, the undisguised need and want. She gasps, not just from the increased thrusting of his fingers, the pressure and seal of Thancred’s mouth. If he had ever shown her that look before, she would have dragged him to bed and the consequences be damned.

Thancred emerges, taking a breath at the same time he slides his hand over the one Emet has on her face. Presses his mouth over the other man’s fingers before kissing Nerys like she is the oxygen he couldn’t have underwater.

His other hand slips between her thighs, direct and purposeful on her sensitive bud. His words pour into her ears–”yes, let go, let go, I want you to come like this, just like this”–and Emet’s fingers move faster inside her. With his wonderful, knowledgeable hand at her clit and his ragged words against her cheek, it doesn’t take long for her to come with a cry.

Thancred swallows her yell, her shaking prevented by Emet’s grip. For a moment, all she sees are the brilliant stars above them in the inky sky. The snow falling on her hair. The crescent moon, reminiscent of one of Emet’s toothier smiles.

Emet lets her go all at once and she collapses against Thancred, melting into his soothing touch. Her breath is loud in her ears, near as much as her heart slamming against her ribs and his against her ear.

“Good girl.” Thancred kisses the tip of her pointed ear. “Do you know what I would do for you, if we were in a different setting?”

She shivers, feeling the cold air for the first time since he put her in Emet’s lap. “Tell me. Please.”

“I would let you take us both, together, at the same time. Get you so stretched and wet for us, so slick...” The soft growl is back in his voice and she might climax again, just from that. As maple-sugar-sweet and poetic he can be, as worshipful as he may choose to be, this is a part of him too. Hungry and demanding.

“True, we cannot prepare her easily in this setting.” Emet says. “Very well, you’ve convinced me.”

There is a soft snap.

Nerys lies in a bed–her bed, in her room at the Pendants. She is warm and dry, not a drop of water on her. Warmer still from Emet, stretched out and pressed along her side, tracing patterns into her abdomen. (Also, the bed is made. The coverlet is far too expensive to come from the inn. She touches the red material in wonder.)

“Hilarious,” Thancred says from the center of the room. Naked and sopping wet, with all their belongings beside him in a careful pile. Emet would not harm their weapons, even if he might be unkind to Thancred’s person. “You might have dried me off too.”

“Hm…” Emet pushes himself on one elbow, the other hand tapping a finger to his lips. “If you fetch the oil from her bathroom cabinet, I shall dry you off.”

For a long moment, Thancred stares him down. Eyes narrowed. But there is no real ire and with a sigh, he makes for the bathroom. The aether lights flicker on as soon as he steps inside.

“How did you know...Emet-Selch! I said you’re not allowed to be here when I’m gone.”

She starts to sit up. Quick as any hunting animal, he braces his arm on the other side of her and swings a leg across. He leans over her, caging her in on all sides  without touching her. Yet. “Yes, but I never agreed to those terms. Underhanded but...my hero did request surprises.”

Nerys puts a hand flat against his shoulder with the intent to push. His skin is warm beneath her palm, the silken feel of him unexpected. It would be so easy to shove him off, storm away from the bed. Except this is the first time truly looking at him since they began and...he has her trapped. Immolating in the pale gold fire of his eyes, mesmerized in the quirk of his brow and tilt of his full lips. The longer she stares, the more neutral his expression becomes and he returns the scrutiny.

There is no buffer. No Thancred to protect her or distract her. And she is afraid-

But not of him, she realises with a start. It’s the intensity I feel when he touches me. I’m scared of how much I want him to touch me again. I’m scared at how right this seems.

She pushes herself up with one hand, the other cups the back of his neck. Pulls him down to her. Emet stills only a moment before his eyes flutter shut and he submits to her, mouth moving soft and slow over hers. His hands curl about her waist, thumbs stroking over her skin. He savors her with the slow drag of his tongue coaxing her more open, more vulnerable to his ministrations.

When they part his eyes are half-lidded, expression utterly relaxed. He’s beautiful. He’s always beautiful. But this pierces her in a new way, so lovely he could rend her heart in two with one look. And he just might.

The hands on her hips pull her forward as he leans back. She ends up in his lap, straddling his waist in one fluid motion. Nerys reaches between them to stroke him. He has been patient this whole time, the least she can do is-

Emet catches her hand and lays the attached arm upon his shoulder, then the other. She opens her mouth to protest and he interrupts her with another kiss. Just as slow and aching, one arm hooked behind her back while the other traces fingertips along her jaw. His hand is gentle as it runs over her throat, down between her breasts, stroking circles into her waist and hip.

Nerys realises it is the longest he has gone in her presence without talking. And she feels the laugh bubbling up her throat, mouth trembling with the strength of holding it back.

“Laughing at me, hero?” He murmurs against her mouth. Nips her lower lip in reprimand.

“N-no I just...felt giddy all of a sudden.” Damn her, ruining the mood like that. Just as his hand was traveling down.

“Liar.” His scolding teeth sink into the side of her neck. She gasps against him, laughter dissolving into a breathy sound. “Better. Let’s see what other preferable sounds we can draw from you.”

“You’re getting close,” she says. Now her smile is irrepressible. “A little lower and to my left…”

“Dear, dear, dear,” he sighs. “And you were so obedient before. Do I bring out the minx in you so much?”

“I thought that was part of why you always came back to talk.”

Instead of a verbal riposte, his hand moves down and to her left. Circling her center, finding the clit and pressing down upon it. As if he has brought her to pleasure a thousand times and knows just where to touch.

Nerys buries her face in his shoulder, shuddering until his strokes are too much and she has to moan against him.

“What delicious noises you make, my dear.” He says, continuing to circle. Continuing to scrape his teeth over her skin. “Thancred was a fool to ever let you go.”

“I was.”

Nerys opens her eyes. (When did she close them?) Thancred stands a few paces from the bed, glass bottle in hand. Both of Emet’s hands splay against her back, pressing her close against him. She feels his fingers snap against her, drying Thancred in an instant.

“At least you admit it,” says Emet.

Nerys has to push a moment before he lets her lean back, getting a better view of Thancred. Shakes her head. “It wasn’t as simple as all that, or one person’s fault.”

As mad as she still is at the Exarch...she might have spoken to Thancred a dozen times before this week. Taken the aetheryte to Mor Dhona to see him, pull him aside when he joined their party in Gyr Abania. Or called him over linkpearl, as she did the night they almost lost Y’shtola.

He pushed her away after they found him in Dravania, even more after Minfilia. But she squandered opportunities, each a bright and alarming memory in hindsight.

Before Thancred can respond, Emet puts a hand to her cheek and makes her look at him. His free hand raises, wagging a finger in her face before tapping her nose. “Ah ah ah, don’t let him off so easy. Not when he is doing his best to make it up to you now…”

Nerys sees the moment a thought takes hold, curling the ends of his mouth upward, drawing his brows down. He flicks a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, is that it? Why you asked me to join?”

Thancred cloaks the soft, warm expression at Nerys with a scowl at Emet. “Don’t pretend to understand my motives.”

Emet clicks his tongue in mock scandalization. “Presumptuous of you, thinking you’re allowed to gift wrap and present me as an apology present.”

Oh.

Nerys extricates herself from his lap, climbing off the bed in a hurry. Walking to Thancred. Searching his closed-off expression for a hint. “Is...is that true?”

Thancred reaches out and takes her hand. Lifts it to his mouth. For all the things these two men have done tonight, for all the things they might still do; these soft touches disarm her the most. And then he removes the facade for her, showing the hope and wariness and the mocking little smile. One she knows is always meant for himself, not anyone else.

He sighs “He’s not wrong, but he’s also not right.” Thancred peers behind her at the bed. “But if Emet-Selch feels used, he is free to leave at any time.”

That last part doesn’t sound angry or annoyed as much as...challenging. She watches him smirk and quirk a brow. Daring the other man.

“Naughty boy,” Emet murmurs. “No, I won’t leave. This has proven to be an interesting night indeed and I am not satisfied yet.”

Nerys touches Thancred’s cheek, drawing his gaze back up to her. Looks him dead in the eye. “You don’t have to do this. Your feelings matter to me and-”

“I could have let him leave, and given you a memorable night without him. I decided I wanted to give you this instead.” The old roguish smirk grows on his lips. “And besides, he has a nice prick.”

She exhales slow, deep, making herself relax. Banishing the anxious tension in her neck and shoulders. “Okay. I believe you.”

“You always can.” Thancred draws her face down and she follows, sinking into his embrace. He still holds the bottle and it’s cool against her back as she presses against the delicious heat of his body and the hard planes of his chest. As he moves, so does she until the backs of her legs hit the mattress. Down, down, she goes until she is sprawled with her head and shoulders in Emet’s lap, Thancred holding himself above her.

“That last part,” Emet says, taking the glass bottle. “You couldn’t see my ‘nice prick’ in the water.”

“But I can see it now.” Thancred shifts his balance to one hand, the other sinking between Emet’s thighs. Sliding a hand over the long-neglected length and this time, Emet doesn’t forestall his own pleasure but lifts his hips. His full lips part and he sighs with relief.

Nerys tilts her head to look up at Thancred, who gives her an expectant look. This old game then. They haven’t played this one since the Spring Festival in Mor Dhona. She meets the challenge with a grin of her own and adjusts her position to better participate.

His fingers return to the root of Emet’s cock and slide upward. She chases them with her tongue along the velvet underside. The scents she associates with him–petrichor and ice and stone–are less here. He could be anyone she might bed.

Emet gasps and slides his hand into her hair. Guiding her as much as Thancred. The steady, near-painful pleasure is unlike many men she has taken to bed for a single night. Who often keep distance and treat her like glass. He is unlike anyone else.

The fingers twist over the swollen head and slip away for her to do the same, mimicking the motion with her swirling tongue. Emet increases pressure on her until he slides between her lips. Nerys bobs up and down without further incentive. That his grip remains insistent only makes this sweeter.

He is nearly as thick as Haurchefant, sure to make her jaw ache.

Another hand–Thancred’s–grips the back of her neck and nudges her down, down, her eyes watering as Emet fucks into her throat. Her nose meets the prickling thatch of auburn curls. Emet lets loose a more desperate sound, the groan raw as he pulls her off of him, fingers still digging into her scalp.

“Good girl,” murmurs Thancred.

“And good boy.” The hands in her hair twists, angling her to watch Emet take hold of Thancred and kiss him with teeth and tongue and heat.  Arousal pulses through her at the sight. They’re beautiful. They’re beautiful and tonight they are both hers.

Nerys rises up, sliding into their tangle and they open for her, mouths and hands worshipping at her skin. She wants to be at the center of this. She wants to be selfish and feel them attend to every inch of her before they fuck her. She wants them to burn her until she is naught but ash and pleasure.

“I need you,” she says to them both. “Please don’t stop touching me.”

“Oh, my dear.” Emet catches her chin, sliding his thumb between her lips. “As if I-we could. You are a feast laid out for us and we are but beggars.”

She sucks on it, watching desire flare in his eyes. Emet sighs as if resigned, sliding his hand down so that he can kiss her again. The gentleness of it has her arms and neck prickling with awareness, her breath catching. Everything about him screams danger and yet–yet he coaxes her with lips and tongue, courting her instead of simply taking.

As if sensing her thoughts and needing to disprove her assumption, he turns her about in his arms. Bites down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Nerys gasps and Thancred is there to catch her, soothing her even as his own teeth drag over her pulse. Behind her is rustling and the soft pop of a bottle uncorked. She can hear Emet moving his hands together, warming his palms.

Thancred has not forgotten her request. As his mouth travels over her, his hands move in long strokes over arms and waist, hips and legs, neck and cheek. A dizzying perusal of caresses, maintaining the contact she needs.

She startles when Emet squeezes her rear, shivers when one oil slicked hand slides towards the tight ring of muscle. When the first finger begins to circle, Thancred kisses her shoulder. As it slides in to the knuckle, he strokes her sides.

“That’s it,” Thancred murmurs. “You’re doing so good. Look how wet you already are, ready for me to slide deep into you. And I will, as soon as he’s done preparing you.”

“My,” Emet says, kissing behind her ear. “He is a chatty one.”

“He is one to talk.”

“He must feel lost without some narration. Or is the talk for your benefit? Do you need me to tell you how good you’re swallowing me, how tight, how perfectly made for my fingers and my prick you are…”

Nerys means to laugh but a moan comes out instead. Digs her fingers into Thancred’s ivory locks and urges his lips downward. “I-I don’t need it but I like it.” She could have them talk to her like this for hours.

“Impatient,” Thancred mutters at her insistent pushing. He puts up a resistance, sliding his tongue over her stomach all the same.

“I don’t see you stopping me.” Nerys smiles down at him. “Unless you plan on making me pay?”

Teeth sink into her other shoulder as Emet adds a second finger. She wriggles against the sensation, tugging at Thancred’s hair in response. Quick, as if this is a battle–and maybe it is–Thancred grabs her wrists and pins them down on either side of her. Nerys grips at the unfamiliar coverlet, meeting his smirk with a scowl.

She tries to lift herself up, presenting herself for his mouth. He ignores the offering, attending to her breasts instead. Dipping down and then back up as soon as she thinks he might taste her. His grip is iron when she pushes against it, squeezing in warning when she does it again.

“Two strikes…” He says.

Now she has to know. Nerys tries a third time and finds herself dragged to lie on her back, his shoulders shoving under her thighs until they press against her stomach. Emet's slick hands leave her and she moans at the loss.

"You'll have him back in a moment." Thancred says. He glances up, has a wordless conversation with Emet behind her. Takes hold of her arms and lifts them, passing them over. Her wrists are shoved down, captured in the harsh grip of one hand pinning above her head.

It should be worrying that they are cooperating this well to make her writhe. Instead, she feels giddy and like she might dissolve from the force of anticipation..

She tests the restraint and finds no give, not even with her two hands to his one. Emet looks down at her, pitiless and expression bright with desire. And then her eyes shut because Thancred devours her. No mercy, no restraint, his hands gripping her thighs so tight they might bruise. He pushes her higher and higher until he thighs shake and she can see the edge-

And then he pulls back completely.

"Please," she gasps. "That's not fair. I need you-"

Emet’s face is upside-down above her, but he finds a way to slot his mouth against hers. She pours her frustration into the kiss, demanding release with a bite to his lip. He only chuckles against her mouth, his slow reprimand becoming something fierce. Engulfing.

When he parts from her, his lips but an ilm from hers, his eyes are unfocused and his breath ragged. She tastes his blood on her tongue. Licks her lips.

"Not yet," says Emet. "Not after we went through all the trouble of preparing you."

His hand is unyielding against her. Nerys tries to move her hips and legs instead and Thancred presses further, going the small distance needed to bend her in half. "I could come again after-"

“Listen.” Emet nips her shoulder. "We’ve staked a claim upon your pleasure. You’re going to have it...when we’re ready. Yes?”

Fuck. His words, his lowered voice...She would rub her thighs together if she could, if Thancred wasn't between them. Instead, she feels herself growing wetter, hotter. Thancred’s fingers slide over her but for all the lewd noises he draws out, he does not touch anywhere that might bring her release.

"Answer him, sweetheart,” says Thancred. "For once he is making sense."

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“What was that?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll do what you want me to.”

"Good girl," Emet says, the two of them moving her to sit up between them again. "That deserves a reward."

"Please tell me the reward is your cocks," she says, leaning back against him. "Otherwise, I don't think I'll make it."

"Impatient." Emet mutters but he drips more oil into her cleft, the three fingers returning to open her, stretch her. She braces herself against Thancred, half slumped over and cheek pressed against his heart. If she tries to touch herself, he will stop her but she considers it. Dares one hand down against her stomach. He grabs at it, kissing her as he does.

Nerys groans, rocking back against the fingers stretching her. Grasping for the peak Thancred almost brought her to.

"She's ready," says Emet at last, his voice rough. His hands dig into her cheeks, squeezing as he parts them. "Needy creature. Who knew you had it in you to desire so much?"

"I knew." Thancred kisses her shoulder. "He'll learn, sweetheart."

"That you think you can teach me anything…" Emet mutters. "Mortals. And their arrogance."

"Please," Nerys begs, her voice taut with need. She clutches at Thancred as an anchor against the sweet torture they’re putting her through. "You can lecture us all you want but first give me your-"

At that, his head presses against her. Rocks a moment before sliding into her oil-slicked passage, his hands stroking circles to soothe her as he enters slow and steady. When her breath hitches and the ache is almost too much, he stops and kisses her nape and spine until she relaxes again.

She’s trembling in his arms, overwhelmed at the fullness, the sensation of him deep in her, wrapped around her. His aether seems to sink into her, embracing her as if he has re-manifested all those phantom hands again. But it is just him, just a barrier taken down between them.

When she beds someone with strong aether...those times were just a shade of this. This is beyond anything she has ever experienced.

Emet skims his hands over her muscular thighs, hosting her close until his chin rests on her shoulder. She opens her eyes as he eases them back, watching the view trade Thancred for the ceiling and instinctively reaches out for balance. And then Emet kisses her neck and soothes her skin and she relaxes again.

"Well?" He says, holding her legs open. "She wants you too, Thancred.”

Thancred crouches between her thighs, running a hand over his cock. It has returned to its full aroused length, a tantalizing bead of moisture at the head. His refractory period is always impressive, and they have taken their time since the hot springs. Teasing her until she feels ready to burst.

"I wonder if you'll even physically be able to take it all." Emet says in her ear. "Stuffed as you already are."

He rocks his hips just so and she whimpers at the feel of him. It is true–she is already full to bursting. It is also true–she wants to take as much of them as she can. All of them if she is able.

“If it’s too much…” Thancred leans over her. Presses his cock against her folds as he lines himself up. “Look at me.”

She looks at him, into the warm depths of his eyes. Into the need and heat. Nerys lifts her hips in invitation and Emet is there to slide them back down, groaning softly.

“You know how to stop things, sweetheart. If it gets too much.”

“If it gets too much,” she repeats, licking her lips. “Thancred please fu-”

He slides into her without resistance, slick and ready as she is. It is almost too much and he isn't even half-way seated inside of her. She bites her lip so she doesn't say the word because she wants more, she wants to be utterly lost-

Emet bites the back of her neck and she cries out, but her body relaxes. Thancred slides deeper inside her, bracing his forearms on either side of them. Tension furrows between his brows.

“Alright?” He asks, more breath than sound.

“Yes,” she whimpers. “Please-please-”

"How sweetly you beg." Emet curls one hand around her breast, the other sliding down her stomach. Dragging to where Thancred is buried inside her and her swollen nub waits succor. He traces outside it, slow and taunting. "It almost makes me want to see how long we can keep you just shy of climaxing."

Thancred smirks. Some of the tension eases in his face. "Keep talking like that, it's making her clench around me."

"Bastards," she moans, reaching for Thancred. Resting arms on his shoulders as he begins to move, his slow, vexing strokes in rhythm with the lift of Emet's hips.

"Oh, do be nice," Emet continues as his fingers brush against her core. "I have only ever admired you. And here you are, exceeding all my expectations. You, who shine brighter than most mortals, you're almost radiant now-"

Nerys cannot think enough to string a response together. Sex is often a release for her, a way to center herself. This feels like...being remade. Like the tandem motion of their bodies strips everything away until there is only the pleasure and the ache. Even the growing cramp in her calves cannot compare with the ecstasy coursing through her.

They are both talking, dropping praise upon her but now she cannot hold onto their meaning. Only the feeling of them sliding in and out of her, the ache and stretch of her body, the slap of their skin on hers. Especially as the pace picks up, both men pushing each other to a greater tempo, snapping hips to drive her back and forth between raging fire and raging fire.

The fingers at her clit press down. The edge is in sight and she sobs aloud for them to keep going. To keep moving. Not to stop again, not when she is so close.

Thancred kisses her. Lips press against her nape and she can feel Emet's smile, his breath as he mouths words into her skin that she cannot hear and cannot parse. They move faster inside her, the finger circling, teeth on her flesh-

Nerys screams as her pleasure rips through her, clutching at whatever she can as her mind enters the strange place of release–a mind so focused on one thing as to feel almost blank, a mind so overcome with feeling that there is nothing but relief and pleasure and not a single thought. She gasps and arches and sobs as they work her through it, the frenzied rhythm milking every onze of pleasure from her

Emet gasps and she feels the final, desperate thrusts of his release. And Thancred, Thancred keeps going, keeps moving in her and moving her against Emet until they are both sensitive and depleted and keening and then, and then Thancred lets himself go.

Nerys is nothing but ash and pleasure, smoldering between them.

Emet moves first, lips pressing to her back as his hand traces patterns into her skin. Idle, swirling loops and flourishes that guide her back to the land of the living. She follows their trail without hesitation, her hand sliding over his as she follows.

She opens her eyes just as fingers slides over her cheek. Thancred leans over her, forehead pressed to hers. Studying her as if he has never seen her before. Maybe he hasn't. Maybe she is someone else on the other side of what they shared.

Maybe they all are.

He slides out of her and she whimpers at the loss, both of him and the heady sense of being filled completely. But he returns to her, resting his cheek against her the swell of her chest while the rest of him lies flush against her.

Nerys strokes his hair and finds the energy to speak. “Okay?”

"Okay," says Thancred. Smiles a little. "I don't ever want to move again."

A soft snort behind her. "Your time is short as is."

"Hush," she says. "You're not going anywhere either."

"Oh?" Emet kisses her shoulder. "Bold of you to-"

Despite what he just said, Thancred moves. Slides up and nudges Nerys just so until he is able to press his lips against Emet's. The Ascian hums in response, submitting to the delightful reprimand.

At last Thancred pulls away with a sigh. "Much better."

Emet chuckles. "So, you two plan on keeping me here tonight. Well, I put myself at your mercy...provided you let me lead the figure at some point."

"If you're good," Nerys teases, and then gasps as Emet rolls his hips against her.

“My dear,” says Emet. His hands slide up her stomach, cupping her breasts. She can tell from Thancred’s expression, they’re sharing a conspiratorial look. Anticipation and wonder sing through her. “Let me prove just how good a playmate I can be."

[confusedgoldenflower]

There is No Glorious Purpose Chap. 2

Hello, you beautiful Tesseract-loving bastards!

I've been meaning for a long time to update but I've been having a really bad time with the whole motivation thing, and what I had first thought of doing with this fic got thrown in a wood-chipper and sunk with the Titanic... so, I'm trying to pick up the pieces and decide where I want to go with this. I also wanted to do it episodically: Chapter One aligned with Episode One and so on. That has not worked partly due to the issues of the above so, well, I guess we'll find out together!

So sorry for any grammar issues, I did my best to look it over but got too sick of staring at it over and over again in my drafts.

Small Thor cameo!

Chapter Two: You Oafs

“Yeah, well, you’re a mischievous scamp--or at least, the other you is. Been killing our minutemen and stealing our reset charges. Been happening for quite a long time….” Mobius whistled lowly. Loki nodded slowly.

“If you know me or us as well as you say, what need have you of my help?”

“Like I said, mischievous scamp. And I know what makes a Loki tick, sure, but even Sherlock needed Watson sometimes--you do know about them, right? Really fun stories with a super smart detective and his below average side-kick--.”

Loki ignored the rambling, “I agree.” Perhaps then… after… peace? “Just tell me, please… is it true that I directly led to my mother’s death?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, definitely. Thor was pissed and then he dragged you along to Svart--Svartle… anyway, the planet of the Dark Elves with Jane because she absorbed the Aether. Then you faked your death, again . There’s that ‘doing a horrible thing then getting away,’ again. But Thor totally gets you back on Sakaar with those Obedience Disks. Yeah, yeah… oh, right, you don’t know--and won’t. He slaps one of ‘em on you when you betray him again, then dials it up all the way while he returns to Asguard. For a god, you get put down a lot .” Mobius chuckled.

Loki sucked in a shuddering breath, reverently laid the Tesseract down and stood, “let us catch this scoundrel then.” He faked a smile for the agent.

“Ok,” Mobius clapped and rubbed his hands together, “what a therapy session!”

Loki had a fleeting thought of, “he must be some Midguardian fool, possibly in some relation to Thor,” before he remembered that the all powerful Time Keepers had created the oaf in front of him.

“Ya know, for the record, maybe ‘undying fidelity,’ wasn’t the right thing to say to Thanos. Just saying. But this is good! We’re gonna be a great team.”

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

“Loki,” the orange clock whined on his ‘gifted’ desk. Though still somewhat transparent, Miss Minutes was a fairly good illusion.

“Yes?” He replied pleasantly, blue hand turning the page of a magazine. His slack-clad legs were propped on the desk, fine business shoes not too far from where she stood on a rather large book. The suit replacement of the prison wear wasn’t bad, he, of course, would have done better had he access to his seidr. But it was fine for the time being.

“Are you paying attention?” The angry little clock motioned to the old Midguardian computer screen which read in that same horrible orange color:

LET’S SEE WHAT YA KNOW!

Q2. Thanos has two apples. He eats both but realizes he wants more. He goes back in time 20 minutes and eats the apples again. Does this mean the apples will not have existed in the timeline he left?

No, because time is constantly happening

The question doesn’t matter because a branch cannot change another time branch

Thanos would’ve been hungry prior because the Grandfather paradox already accounted for the change in matter before it’s move.

TVA FILE EDIT VIEW MODE HELP

Of course he was paying attention, and of course he chose not to amuse them! One order after another; feeding off of each other even. He may have bowed to Thanos but he had never kneeled. Not truly. And he clung to that remaining dignity.

“Naturally,” he returned pleasantly. She sighed.

“What happens when a nexus event branches past red line?”

“Ragnarok.”

“Come on, Loki. What is it?... Loki!”

“It is when the TVA can no longer reset a nexus event. Are you satisfied?’

“Right. And that would lead to the destruction of the timeline and the collapse of reality as we know it.” He lowered the magazine lower into his lap and took his feet off the desk.

“Yes, indeed. Are you alive or a recording? Clearly, you can hear me.”

Her big cartoonish eyes moved around, “uh… sorta both?”

“So not an illusion or projection?” He swiped at her with the rolled up magazine.

“Ah!” A small smirk ghosted his face and he went after her again.

“Watch it! Where are your manners? Oh! Hey! Quit it! That is not nice, ya jerk!” She floated and then fazed back into the computer. He gave that ugly thing a few whacks as well. She pouted on the other side of the screen.

“Trainin’ going wel--is that my jet ski magazine? Put it down, Blue-Raz.” Mobius ripped the magazine from him, swivelled to his desk then swiveled again to flop a jacket in front of Loki.

“Gear up, there’s been an attack. Let’s go.” The agent commanded. Loki picked up the jacket. It unfolded from the collar, back facing him. “VARIANT” was emblazoned across it.

“Ah,” was all he commented as he moved to slip it on before his handler got any ideas while he was led down hallways. Norns knew the agent would have plenty of examples in his own life up to that point, much less his future or other variants.

“Good. Yeah. Smart.” Mobius commented with his fists in a move reminiscent of excited warriors as said human stopped to look back at his charge and the newly bestowed article of clothing. B-15 gave her usual droll stare. Her minutemen stood around her in a group.

“ C-20 and her team went dark shortly after they jumped into the 1985 branch. All signs point to another ambush. We've grabbed enough temporal aura to know it's our Loki Variant.”

The “actually dangerous” sort, Loki groused silently. Then Mobius opened his mouth.

“Here's the deal. When we get out on the branch, we're not just looking for a Time Criminal. We're looking for a Loki. A variation of this guy. A type we should all be very familiar with, because the TVA has pruned a lotta these guys, almost more than any other Variant. And no two are alike. Slight differences in appearances, or not so slight. Different powers, although, powers generally include shape-shifting, illusion-projection, and my favorite... Duplication-casting. Illusion-Projection.”

Mobius gestured to him when applicable in his little speech, also projecting other variations of Loki with his TemPad--all assumedly pruned likewise. Variation 8: L6792 looked exactly like he would now had he’d been afforded the luxury of keeping his clothes, but also with slight differences that led Loki to think that that variant must have been favored royally in some way he was rejected.

Variation 8: L1247 looked like a Midguardian sportsman happily holding a trophy of some kind. Variation 8: L6792 was an atrocity of him and the Hulk combined. Variation 8: L8914 was more strongly built with more prominent hair curls in their longer hair. They stood like dignitary with their hands behind them. Variation 8: L7803 looked like an oaf. A full, half-face helmet emblazoned with the horns in the wrong direction and even a piece of turf over the shoulder like a cape. Oh, dear….

“No.”

“...Huh?”

“Those two powers are completely different, although, I am unsurprised you cannot comprehend it.”

“Loki, what are you talking about--look, I’ve dealt with more of you than you’ve dealt with yourself.”

“The truth remains that those powers are not the same.”

“Then, please, Loki, tell me.”

Loki smiled easily and supplicatingly at the contempt and patronization, just like talking to anyone in Asguard.

“ Illusion-projection involves depicting a detailed image from outside oneself, which is perceptible in the external world, whereas duplication-casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in its present circumstance, which acts as a true holographic mirror of its molecular structure.”

“Ok, take a breath. Noted. We’re gonna break into two teams, including myself and Professor Loki here”

B-15 still looked unamused and dubious.

“Whoever the Variant is, we haven’t been able to find them so I’m the Sherlock and he’s my Watson. Look, this’ll work.” Mobius said to her. She side-eyed Loki, Loki who had nothing but a branded jacket to protect himself with.

“And so my agency in this is to… tell you how brilliant you are.”

“Go outside, maybe touch some grass.” Mobius returned with a tilted smile under his twisted nose.

“Ah. I shall protect myself with your wit, then, should this superior being choose me as a next target.”

Mobius chuckled and mimed “talky-talky” again.

He passed through the portal B-15 had summoned, closed in on both ends by TVA agents. Immediately, he could feel his seidr swell within him again and redonned his Aesir glamor. The choker chafed as he glanced around, and he found himself much preferring the biting metal of the chains he was usually imprisoned in. The place they passed into was a celebration of old Midguardian times, further back than what the TVA modeled itself after, in direct juxtaposition of the modern technology with the humans held in their hands, and had used to both get to the location and create their sometimes elaborate costumes.

“Apex of nexus signature located, ma'am,” a minuteman said as they walked.

“Allow me to ask you this, why do we not travel to the moments prior to the Variant’s attack, to when they arrive.” Loki asked as the tent grew ever nearer.

“Nexus events destabilize the time flow. This branch is still changing and growing, so you gotta show up in real time. Did you watch any of the training videos you were supposed to?”

The minutemen twisted their batons, the ends glowing a shade that seemed to haunt the TVA as they neared.

Loki chuckled a laugh that was never and would never be heartfelt, “my dear Sherlock, you should know I am quite the scholar. But these ‘reset charges,’ they ‘prune’ a branched timeline which ‘allows time to heal all wounds.’”

Mobius made an odd gesture towards him, “he’s on it.”

Within the dark, torch-lit tent, limp minutemen laid about the displays which held real weapons and a large, stepped seating construct. Their bodies were splayed out in obvious struggle. Unactivated batons laid around as well, a few clenched in hands. A helmet bearing “C-20” laid, discarded within the scene. Loki hovered a hand over one display as he passed and they grouped around the scene.

“So he's taking hostages now?” B-15 spat.

“The Variant's never taken a hostage before,” Mobus returned.

“Maybe he's upping his game.”

“Or he pruned her,” a minuteman remarked.

“A Loki couldn't have gotten the jump on C-20.” B-15 returned.

“Fan out and search for her. And hurry up, we're at three units until red line.” B-15 ordered, her minutemen immediately moving to obey.

“Let's go. She's right.” A peon echoed.

Mobius concurred, “Come on.”

“Wait….” Loki said, brow knit as he studied the scene.

“What do you see?” Mobius asked as he stepped away from the entrance.

“I see wolf’s teeth.”

“Yeah, ok,” Mobius motioned for him to hurry and Loki got brief satisfaction that the human had no idea what he was talking about.

“‘Where there are wolf’s ears, there are wolf’s teeth,’” Loki echoed one of many sayings he heard during his childhood, especially before bed. He swallowed down the thought of a certain story about blue, darkly lined and vicious monsters.

“Ridiculous, really,” he laughed hallowly, “my people are gullible fools by nature. You remind me of them; the Time Variance Authority and the great gods of Asgard. One and the same. Drunk with power, blinded to the truth. Those you underestimate will devour you, and we’ve just walked into a wolf’s mouth.” He raked his eyes across his audience as he spoke, kneeling down in front of the helmet and stroking his hand in the grassy turf. The minutemen seemed to falter ever so slightly, B-15 rolled her eyes, and Mobius stared.

A TemPad beeped, “two units, he’s wasting our time.”

“No, step outside this tent and my other Variant will devour you,” Loki stated plainly. It was easy, nearly in a terrifying way, how he fell into the usual routine he had had with his oaf of a brother and his lackeys, who, similarly, never headed his words.

“We need to look for C-20.” B-15 repeated.

“Come on, Loki, we don’t have time for your lies.”

“Oh, I am not lying, and out of curiosity, when you find them, will you prune us both seeing as you will not have any need of me?”

Mobius sighed and gesticulated like a frustrated middle-aged Midguardian, “he’s lying.”

Loki’s head turned to the side minutely, in a ghost of a head shake. His stomach turned the way it usually did when he knew things were about to--.

“Aghr!” A minuteman had exited and had been consequently slaughtered. A brawl broke out just outside the small entrance. Innocent event-goers made exclamations outside as well. Batons revved, and B-15 and Mobius stalked to the opening. Loki walked behind them.

“The charge!” Someone yelled. The fight continued. A cloaked figure with amazing skill in combat fought them all while a crowd of civilians formed around them. There were a few smiles and jeers, no doubt thinking it was all a show.

“On behalf of t-... the Time Va-...Variance Authority, I hereby-... arrest you for-... for crimes against the… Sacred Timeline, V-… Variant!” B-15 huffed between blows.

“Ergh!” A minuteman got pruned. Loki’s cloaked variant said nothing, only continued fighting. He backed back into the tent, took aloft a jousting lance, broke it half and reemerged. For all their combined ability, the TVA was losing. The glow of pruning swung around arbitrarily. He dipped into the fight and caught his counterpart’s cutlass in the cross the two ends of the lance made.

“Pardon me, I mean no intrusion,” he said calmly to his other self, noticing a similar collar of metal that had adorned his own garments. He could feel the other’s tension as they reclaimed their sword and focused solely on him. It proved more of a poor decision than anticipated and he found himself holding his breath in pain more than he’d wanted. The wood was also useless and even though both it and he put up a valiant fight, his other self had taken hold of a baton along the line. His weapons were useless as they continued to share blows. He lowered the stubs of wood and opened his arms. The glowing end came close.

Then it wasn’t.

The grunting that followed was B-15 and Mobius disarming the variant of the baton and nearly restraining them.

“About to redline!” A remaining minuteman nearly yelled. B-15 and Mobius shared a look. A door was opened and Loki found the cloaked figure disappearing into a flurry of gold.

“What in the Rolling Stones was that, Blue-Raz?!” Mobius had him hard by the shoulder of both his jacket and dress shirt.

Loki blinked once then made eye contact with Mobius, “what ever do you mean?”

“He was about to kill you!”

“Prune,” Loki politely corrected. Mobius gawked.

“I kno--what were you thinking?!”

“Your only use of me is to capture me, I was assisting in that.”

“By letting you be killed by yourself?!”

“A mere distraction to the larger goal, Mobius.”

“And it almost worked,” B-15 piped from somewhere beside them. Her voice had dropped a tone or two.

“Yeah… almost had ‘im too.” Mobius admitted, letting Loki go. “But seriously, man, what was that?”

“Nearly fulfilling my role, as you yourself stated.” Loki replied pleasantly.

“We also barely pruned it in time and got outta there with our lives.” B-15 stated.

“Yeah…” Mobius rubbed the back of his head with his other hand on his hip as he stared at the floor. I was not lying, Loki wanted to say. To push. To scream. But he instead focused on the ache in his back. It should be fine in a matter of a few more hours given the time he had for recovery before the Tesseract opened the portal in New York and he was knocked from the Mind Stone’s, and thus Thanos’, direct influence.

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

Loki subconsciously touched his hideously blue palm as he waited outside of the judge’s office for his handler. The doors were decorated with sandglasses. How quaint .

Mobius finally emerged, stalking right past him. Loki fell in step behind him. He realized such only after he’d done it.

An angry finger wagged in front of him as they walked, “one thing, Loki, that’s all I asked.”

“The ‘talk’ from earlier.”

“No! Catching the superior version of yourself. We lost guys out there today-- good guys!” Good, yes, ‘good guys’ who also happened to have erased who knows how many people from existence.

“There would have been a lot more had I not been there and, likewise, a lot less had I been heeded.”

“And there you go again. That narcissism! Do you ever stop? Get tired of yourself?”

Loki didn’t respond as Mobius stopped and whirled on him, only gave him his schooled expression.

“I’m on thin ice ‘cause of you. I saved you, remember that? Didn’t that mean anything to your Asguardian standards or personal morals or anything?”

“If you recall, I was about to meet that fate regardless as I helped you bring in my Variant. I also have little doubt you will delete me if I survive assisting you in their arrest either way.”

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy? Ok. Well that other you is worse, remember that. He’s killed a lot of people--more than you. You’re just a little blue ice runt, crying in the cold.”

Loki chuckled and didn’t even need to bite back the urge to correct this “Loki expert.”

“Ever get tired of playing this same old part?” Mobius continued bitterly, “I’m getting sick of your constant need for sympathy, Loki!”

“Mobius?” He asked after allowing a few minutes to pass.

“What?” Mobius mumbled.

“This other Variant is after reset charges, why not supervise another ‘pruning’ in case we find the correct branch they target. How many happen in a day, usually?”

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

Loki almost choked when they entered into an Aguardian hall. The was beautiful and towering and held stones and architecture he could rewrite the books about. For one blissful second, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of his homeland--or the place he was raised. His glamor fell over him unconsciously.

Then he had to play follow-the-leader with the TVA peons. He rounded a large corner and immediately knew how many steps it would take to get to his room, his mother’s and Thor’s.

“Loki?” A familiar voice boomed. Loki tensed. Mobius cast him a “good luck” glance and mumbled, “I’ll be back for ya, Blue-Raz”

Loki had the urge to run him through followed by his brother who should not—it didn’t matter, the timeline would be reset. The Thor bounding up behind him would be pruned with everything else… why did that hurt? He turned to face his adopted sibling.

“Loki, it is you? Isn’t it? I mean you look horrendous in that getup, but it’s you!” Thor held his hands out in what could only be described as reverence. But the esteemed Asguardian Prince was wearing dirty Midguardian clothes and had a beer gut to match. How? Barely any time had elapsed between that moment and when they were facing down in New York.

“It is me but what happened to you, brother?”

A shadow came over Thor’s face. His hands lowered and he reached out to Loki.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispered, “did you just escape the dungeons?”

Loki held his gaze for a few long moments. The timeline will be reset. There is no harm in it.

“No, Thor, I never—this me never went to the dungeons. Never came back to Asguard.”

Thor hissed an inhalation of breath as his eyes widened.

“Thor what happened to you? Why do you have mismatched eyes? Where is your armor? Or Mjolnir?”

“Oh, Loki! Loki. Loki. Loki.” Thor’s voice trembled with false laughter and an emotion Loki didn’t know, “what--you look horrendous. What in the Nine Realms are you wearing?”

“Thor, it is good to see you, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time for a chat.” Loki returned, clipped. Redline grew ever nearer.

Thor’s face fell again, “Loki… just tell me you’re alive. That I didn’t fail you on the Statesmen--Thanos is dead now, I-I killed him! I-... I killed him… I avenged you.”

“Oh, Thor,” Loki found himself saying as Thor’s eyes shined and tears spilled onto his cheeks. He allowed himself to be squeezed in the other’s arms… and found it to be the best hug he’d ever received… or the only hug….

“Thor… Thor, are you listening?” Thor only sobbed into his shoulder, holding Loki up against his beer gut and off of the actual floor.

“Y-yes?”

“Very soon, this timeline will be reset which means you will have never seen me here. So tell me, what happened to you?”

Thor whined in the back of his throat and plopped Loki back down, it was just hard enough to make pain spike up his nearly healed spine.

“I--You--Thanos--.”

Loki laid his arms on Thor’s biceps, squeezing gently, Thor shuttered then took a breath and smiled fondly at him. Fondly. Thor never did that. What sort of--how is he not the Variation?

“So after Ragnarok, Thanos… had all the Stones and killed half of what was left of Asguard including you. I wasn’t able to--I’m sorry.”

“Just tell me, Thor, I am right here.”

“Then I was found by the space morons and went to Nidevelir to forge Storm Breaker because Hela broke Mjolnir before Sakaar--Ragnarok happened because of her. Then we battled with the Avengers in Wakanda and… I didn’t go for the head! How could I have not gone for the head?! Thanos snapped and…. It was horrible, brother. Absolutely horrible. The whole universe. And so many extinctions followed and more tragedies. I-....” He hung his head. “I tried to drown my worries like the ‘oaf’ I am….”

“I thought your annoying little group was the ‘Avengers’ not the ‘Alcoholics.’”

“... Ha!” Thor slapped him on the back. The statement seemed to have brought about the intended reaction.

“Yes! Of course! So five years later, we found him and I slayed him! But Tony and Scott found a way to move through time to get the stones to undo it all, and so we did, and we succeeded! But still, Thanos haunted us and we had a final battle--which we won!” Thor seemed to have noticed himself that he was about to go into one of his long winded stories of victory, and cut it short.

Then his smile abated and his beard fell, “Loki, Steve and Tony lost the Tesseract in 2012 to you…?”

“Yes, yes, that would be me, brother.”

A gasp of breath as Thor readied himself for the most bone crushing hug in the universe was all that was afforded to Loki.

“Thor,” he wheezed slightly, “I know I was not kindest to you but must you kill me prematurely?”

“Oh, Loki! I never threw you off the Bifrost, and I-!”

“Charge is set, we gotta boogie!” Mobius interrupted, jogging over.

Thor allowed the interruption if only to interrogate him, “and who are you? How and why do you command my brother? If you are with Tha-!”

To Loki’s astonishment, a few electrical charges emanate off of his brother.

“No, time to talk. Put Loki down We gotta get outta Dodge.”

Thor’s grip tightened, “Thor, just do it!” Loki groused. Thor did. Mobius opened the portal.

“Sorry, big guy, big fan but I need your Buddy. You ever think of trying Old Spice?”

“Ah--I just--Loki just returned to me as he always does and you expect me to just give up?!”

“Thor, do not follow us, I would rather not see you get deleted.”

Heavy feet crossed through the yellow threshold and left 2023 Thor in 2014 with a gaping mouth and tear stained cheeks.

“So no Loki!” Mobius announced as he clapped his hands together, “that means we gotta get to work!” He went on to walk at a brisk pace. Loki trailed after, blinking back the stinging in his now red eyes.

“I was of the understanding that is what we were doing,” he put a hand over his throat while he cleared it.

“I need you to go over each and every one of this Variant's case files, and then, give me your... How do I put it?... Your unique Loki perspective. And who knows? Maybe there's something that we missed.”

Seeing as how you are so hypocritical, I would be surprised if you had not missed anything. Honestly, “all you Lokis are the same” yet in the same breath, “no Loki variant is exactly alike.” I think as I do.

“You are the expert, I trust your judgement” Loki said instead.

“That's why I'm lucky I got ya for a little bit longer. Let me park ya at this desk. And don't be afraid to really lean into this work. Here's a good trick for you: pretend your life depends on it. I'm gonna get a snack.”

For all his countless hours spent in not only the Grand Library, but others around Asguard and the other Realms, he found himself having little interest in sifting through all the instances in which that other version of him overcame the great TVA and triggered more animosity against themselves--and all other Lokis.

“Any motive, Sherlock?” He asked dryly.

“That’s what you’re for!” The agent chuckled, poked at his chest and walked away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the agent walk away then turned his attention to the paperwork. The pattern was known to begin with but became… inane the more pages he flipped through: nexus event, dispensed TVA agents, the team goes silent, they’re found dead and without the reset charge, Mobius, the expert, is called in for investigation and then the branch is reset before redline.

One Loki… only one to best their happy little teams. I was bested, but I also have extenuating circumstances of the past year. Without Thanos’ interruption, could I have?... Yes, I fought alongside Thor and his foolish troup of warriors, I would have been able to exact my own damage. For a ‘timeline protection force,’ how are they schooled in combat?

“Pardon me,” he tapped the librarian’s bell. She turned to him with a nonplussed expression.

“Could you show me to the combat regimens of our dear agents?”

“No.”

“Infographics?”

“No.”

“Battle end-games?”

“No.”

“Well, you have been very helpful, thank you.” It was still a library after all and he more than knew his way around one seidr or not; his mind was still intact--somewhat intact and that had always been his greatest weapon.

So he sat back down at the table to form a plan of action, so to speak, of how he could find the files he wanted in the fastest and most assured way. But, he still had all the paperwork of this other Loki, dripping in red. Oozing. Gushing. Like Thor’s cape as yet more enemies were put to ruin under his brother’s sheer might. He never envied that red; never thought he could own it or have it become him… yet this other version had jumped--leapt into that pool of blood and ended all who stood in their way. Incapacitation would have sufficed. Has sufficed in innumerable cases. He’d both saved lives of his comrades and stupid brother, and saw the end goal in such a way.

He gasped and leapt up, running along the railing of the library.

“Mobius--.”

“No, I said, ‘don’t bother me until you’ve read all the files,’ and I know you don’t read that fast.” Mobius set his Js\osta down with a hard thonk .

“I have, but unimportant--.” Loki slid into the seat across from the agent in the cafeteria.

“No, read every file pertaining to the Variant.”

“The answer does not lie in the files, it lies on the timeline!” Mobius gave him a dangerous look at the slight raising of his voice. Loki took a breath.

“Look,” Loki began again with his arms fanning over the table, “they’re hiding in apocalypses.”

“Which one? There’s, like, a million?”

“Take Ragnarok, I assume you are familiar?”

“Yeah, total destruction of your weird coin planet and most of its people because of your sister Hela. I’m sorry.”

Sister? Hela? Thor mentioned her--unimportant now.

“Yes, well, that recent visit with Thor got me thinking…?”

Mobius regarded him but eventually sighed and sat back, making a small gesture, “yeah, sure, ok.”

“Nexus events happen when someone does something that is not meant to happen--.”

“A bit more complicated but yeah.”

“These can culminate into entire other timelines--.”

“Chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.” Loki did his best to ignore the interruptions. He forced animation into his movements as if trying to explain it to Thor. That was best, pretend he was explaining something that now seemed so basic to the warrior.

“Alright! So this is Asgard,” he plundered the agent’s salad bowl. Said agent gave sad push back. Loki continued.

“I could travel back to Asgard preceding Ragnarok and do whatever I wished; switch crowns, resoil linens, topple some columns. I could destroy the Rainbow Bridge.” He grabbed the small salt shaker and started pouring some in. Mobius mourned his food. Loki was not fed.

“None of this would matter. Not if I set fire to the courtyard. Or even killed the Allfather!”

“Why--Lo--God, Loki!”

“Excuse me,” Loki greeted Casey kindly at an adjacent table, “are you finished with this?”

Casey, who had his bunched napkin thrown on his plate in clear sign of being finished looked from his crumpled juice box to Loki, “you!”

“Yes, very nice to see you again,” Loki took the drink container and poured it into the salad, secretly relishing how the agent utterly deflated.

“Due to Surtur!” Loki finished.

Mobius rubbed his hand down his face, “what am I lookin’ at?”

“Apocalypses, Holmes.”

“Loki, you just apocalypse my lunch, I wanted to eat that!”

“You want my other Variant.”

Mobius leaned onto the table, “cut to the chase.”

“That is how they have escaped you for so long; no matter what happens, an apocalypse negates anything that would otherwise summon the TVA.”

“Oh, not bad. Not Bad. Hey, so, how do you weigh over five hundred pounds?”

That was a “jackknife”--as Midgaurdians may say--that he did not expect.

Mobius raised his hands, “hey, I’m not judging, just curious.”

“Focus, Mobius, please.”

“Ok, ok. My salad. Destroyed.” Another despondent hand waved at the bowl.

“I can show you my theory is true.”

Mobius laughed, “I’m not letting you go.”

“You come with me, naturally,” Loki pushed.

“Well, I’ve had enough of your troublemaking for one day.”

“No one has to know unless I am correct--which I am.”

“TVA agents can’t just go running around anyway. Waltzing into the White House would be a Nexus event.”

You are not listening!

“Pompeii, for instance, you Midguardians like talking about that catastrophe, we could go there!”

“Pompeii?”

“Pompeii. Everyone died and that town was not even the worst hit of the eruption of Vesuvius.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Talk, talk, talk. Oh, you’re so smart!” Mobius sneered and wiped his mouth with his napkin despite not having spilled anything much less eaten enough to make a mess of his face. No food for either of them it seemed.

“If I go along with this and you stab me in the back, you’re getting erased. Capische?”

“Understood,” I am fully expecting that regardless.

[sunmaylight]

TGCF Book 3 Reaction pt.3 - Wind Master’s Self-Designated Quest & The Events that Happen After

I am back again with reactions & comments for when I read book 3. 

This is honestly fun for me because I can look back at what I read and remember my first reaction to everything. I can also see how things connect to make up each arc by going back and reading them. 

I really want to start book 4, but completing this first so I compose myself and not be a mess of emotions reading it. Cause, any book that is mainly about Xie Lian’s past is bound to be filled with angst and possible tears for the guy.

Ch 102: The Love for All Seasons Stew, the stew Xie Lian made and Shi Qingxuan is enthusiastically wanting to try some, shares with Ming Yi. Hua Cheng eats it like nothing and gives Xie Lian feedback

- Me: Ah, RIP Shi Qingxuan and Ming Yi. It was nice knowing you two.

Start of the Venerable of Empty Words

Ch 103: The stew knocks out Ming Yi and sends Shi Qingxuan to tears. Then Shi Qingxuan hallucinates

- Me: You know, by this point Xie Lian should have his own warning label to prevent this from happening in the future. What if he made something for Jun Wu and kills him with his cooking? Actually, that sounds pretty funny. This just in: Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu defeated by a plate of questionable food made by his favorite Heavenly Official, Xie Lian.

103: Shi Qingxuan tells a horror story. Xie Lian feels a cold breeze and discovers it’s made by SQX.

- Ah, I think I’m understanding more that Heavenly Officials are really eccentric. Especially the upper court.

Xie Lian casually mentioning he has encountered a Venerable of Empty Words in the past and how that ghost left him after staying with the fallen god for almost a year.

- Me: *sobs* Xie Lian. 

Wind Master talking about his past before ascension and then post ascension

- Me: Okay, but did you actually ascend?

Learns about Heavenly Calamities

- Me: Well, that will surely be relevant in the future.

105: Investigating for the Ghost. Learns that from a tampered list that Hua Cheng killed vengeful, malevolent tyrants

- Me: Hua Cheng, who else have you killed? How the fu-dge is it that you are more productive than Heavenly Officials in making sure nothing bad happens?

As the group was going to leave, Xie Lian remembers the kids (& Qi Rong). 

Hua Cheng: I have already called a babysitter. Don’t worry about a thing Gege.

106: The group was teleported to the wrong place.

- Me: Well, aren’t things starting out just lovely.

Hua Cheng changed clothes and Xie Lian Noticed. 

Hua Cheng & Xie Lian exchange verbal communication passwords. Hua Cheng’s password has Xie Lian blushing.

- Me: WHAT IS IT?

Xie Lian’s password: “Just recite the Ethics Sutra a thousand times.”

- Me: ...Is that a joke? Xie Lian, if they actually had to recite that, it’s like saying you don’t want people to talk to you.

Xie Lian’s password is revealed to be just that phrase. He set it up as a joke

- Me: goddamnit. I have been bamboozled. 

Learning about the legend of the Potential Scholar He, who was mad smart but got a lot of people wanting to crush him out of jealousy. He died after getting his revenge against those who were gatekeeping him.

- Me: HI! WHERE IS THE SHRINE FOR THIS GUY. I NEED A SHRINE TO WORSHIP SCHOLAR HE AS WELL AS A CERTAIN DIANXIA AND HUA CHENGZU

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng now have to play Mafia in a four man group.

Ch 108: A game to sniff out the Word Ghost. The game reminds me of the Japanese Game, King’s Game.

- Me: Is there a Chinese equivalent to the King’s Game?

SQX -’king’- Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have to strip each other. Just one layer

- Me: If this was me to my crush, I would be weirded out to do this in front of my friends. Unless if I was drunk

SQX to Hua Cheng (from the book): “What’s the worse suffering in the world?”

Hua Cheng: “To watch with your own eyes your beloved be trampled and ridiculed, yet unable to do anything. That’s the worse suffering in the world.”

- Me: (ToT) Hua Cheng. I got to mark this down. Hua Cheng’s beloved and him need their happy ending.

Ming Yi to Xie Lian: “What’s the biggest regret of your life?”

Xie Lian: “My Second Ascension.”

- Me: !!! Xie Lian, what the F*CK happened during the shortest ascension recorded in Heaven?

Ch 109: Hua Cheng lends Xie Lian a ‘bit’ of spiritual power. Xie Lian does a palm thrust and blows off the roof of the temple.

- Xie Lian & Me: ...Hua Cheng, that’s a little bit?

Hua Cheng: Was that not enough? I can lend you more.

Ch 110: Hua Cheng puts on a mini fashion show to Xie Lian in the middle of something important. 

Xie Lian: *focus is pulled away to stare at Hua Cheng*

- Me: Okay. Cute, but please focus. There is a time and place for everything. Now is not the time!

Water Master is suppose to prepare for the third Heavenly Calamity. SQX is kidnapped

- Me: What if this is the third calamity? Having to save SQX from the Venerable of Empty Words?

Xie Lian wants to do a soul-shifting spell, but Hua Cheng is stopping him.

- Me: Hm, does Hua Cheng know something? That is suspicious.

Ch 111: Venerable of Empty Words says: “Don’t worry, with your eyes wide open, you will watch the person coming to seek you die before you!”

- Me: *Thinks of Hua Cheng for Xie Lian* Shit, it got to Xie Lian. I really hope this doesn’t happen in the future. Cause, it’s not like Hua Cheng can die by conventional means since his ashes are ***** - Safe

Wind Master is revealed to be wearing a lot of treasures and gems on their person

- Me: Why is Wind Master wearing all of that?

Soul-Shifting spell ends, Xie Lian hears Hua Cheng’s voice

- Oh shit. I think Hua Cheng is mad.

SQX: “This is the Terrace of Cascading Wine. It’s where I ascended”

- Me: Wait, SQX is one of the Four Famous Tales? The odd one that is like Qi Rong that is about a guy who ascended for just pouring wine?

Learns that Xie Lian was actually sleeping when he ascended.

- Which ascension did that happen at?

SQX is in hysteria after Shi Wudu grabs him. SQX was acting suspicious before then SWD arrived.

- Me: Wow, what happened to SQX? D-did he actually fail his Heavenly Calamity and this is part of the punishment? Do Heavenly Officials get an advance notice that they have a Heavenly Calamity they have to face? Or is he behaving like this because of the removal of all of those artifacts and jewels?

-----

Ch 113: Hua Cheng sent a step-litter, a step-litter that is very extravagant, to Xie Lian. Hua Cheng is giving Xie Lian a fancy carriage ride towards somewhere.

- Me: Wow. What an obvious sign that Hua Cheng has deep feelings for Xie Lian 

The whole Step-Litter Scene of Ghost calling Xie Lian Hua Cheng’s ‘lady’ while he was in the Step-Litter and everything after until they drop Xie Lian off at Puqi Shrine

- Me: THIS NEEDS TO BE ANIMATED

Xie Lian’s new banner: “Return Babes through Miraculous Hands”

- No words

Hua Cheng helping Xie Lian do a task of working in the field. There is an indescribable tension that has been created through Xie Lian’s dense brain

- Me: Man, you can slice the tension with a sword and they still wouldn’t realize anything.

Xie Lian has a mysterious donor who filled his donation box with gold bars. He decides to return them

- Me: Yes, good for you Xie Lian. You do you.

The Drama between the Wind and Water Masters

- Me: You know, there is someone on YouTube who animated this part. I can now only visualize that while reading through my notes.

Earth Master forged his shovel to be his spiritual device. Ming Yi, Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian travel through the tunnels dug by the Earth Master’s Shovel under Heaven

- Me: Wait, does this mean technically anything can be made into a spiritual device?

SQX can’t access his spiritual powers

- Me: shit. Did he actually fail a Heavenly Trial against Reverend of Empty Words?

The three are forced to dig and end up at Quan Yizhen’s palace with Pei Ming behind them

Pei Ming: QYZ, help me out and capture them

QYZ: *sees Xie Lian and remembers what he did for him during the Lantern Festival* - Grabs bed and throws it at Pei Ming- YEET!

Xie Lian tosses dice and the three end up at Puqi Shrine again. Xie Lian is greeted to the sight of a shirtless Hua Cheng finishing up some labour work with using E-Ming.

- Me: Is this going to be Xie Lian’s gay awakening? Will he finally acknowledge he has feelings for Hua Cheng?

Xie Lian immediately calms down and gets back into action

- Me: dang it!

The group, now with Hua Cheng, teleports to the Rain Master’s land. They exchange what they know and Xie Lian is drawing a very terrifying conclusion.

- Me: So, if there was a chart of the four famous tales compared to the four great calamities based on comparing their authenticity of tales

- Xie Lian    Hua Cheng       (They have to match somewhat)

- Princess who slit her throat         White No-Face      (Both have very little knowledge and seem very much bamf)

- General who broke his sword       Black Water       (Just vibes based on their names)

- Shi Qingxuan         Qi Rong     (Don’t really match the others, but are famous enough to get on the list)

Xie Lian connects the dots on Scholar He's name

- is that even possible?

Pei Ming arrives and then the group moves to Shi Wudu’s Heavenly Trial ground cause mortals are in danger. Their mission is to help the mortals and not get in the way of Water Master. 

Hua Cheng changes into a fisherman outfit

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng share a tender moment with a steam bun. General Pei watches them

- Me: Oh? Pei Ming, what did you notice? Did you notice the potential ship between the two of them?

118: The ship somehow wandered into the Ship-Sinking Black Water’s territory.

- Me: Oh no. The drama.

--------

Alright, here seems good. The next part will be the Wind & Water Master Arc pt 2 (?). At least I think so since the Wind part was discovered and now it’s the Water part that’s next. 

You know, I really wanted to comment on a bunch of other stuff. Especially the Hualian moments, but decided against it cause there are some things that should be read

[a-deadly-serenade]

Alchemy Between You & Me: Chapter 1: Arsenic [Guy of Gisborne/Reader]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362053/chapters/66860944

“Come now, we don’t want to be late!”

Your mother ushered you forward with a firm push on the back and you glared at her in response.

“I doubt we’ll be sorely missed if we’re a few minutes late, mother,” you replied sharply and sat down on the opposite side of the coach, away from your parents.

“You don’t know this sheriff,” she huffed. “He is a very punctual man, does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Well, I find it hard to believe that he’ll be eagerly awaiting my esteemed arrival,” you grumbled and focused your attention outside to peruse the scenery that slowly trickled by as the carriage made its way through the forest.

“Actually, you’ll find that several acquaintances on the council are quite interested in meeting you,” your father said.

“Really?” you replied, one of your eyebrows raised skeptically. “And why’s that?”

“Do you think we’ve gone this whole time without mentioning you?” your mother gawked.

“So you aren’t ashamed of your unmarried daughter who is currently pursuing academics instead of a husband?”

“Of… of course not,” she replied and cleared her throat as her eyes darted away from your annoyed stare.

“They’ve been most fascinated in this talk of you performing alchemy,” your father added with a hearty chuckle. “It’s becoming quite the trend for some within the ranks to try their hand at turning cheap metals into gold.”

“Father, I’ve already told you that no alchemist has ever accomplished such a thing,” you replied. “Think of it as an auspicious rumor and nothing more.”

“Nonsense! I’m sure they just haven’t discovered it yet!” he gave you a big grin and took hold of your shoulder to give it an endearing squeeze. “I bet you could though!”

You gave an awkward chuckle. “Right…”

The remainder of the ride was filled with menial chit-chat on the part of your parents as they tried to play catch up on the finer details of what you did during your time abroad. You were frankly relieved when the carriage was pulled to a stop and the coachman announced that you had arrived.

Stepping out of the carriage you are greeted by an enormous castle, its stone walls stretching high into the sky, locking you in. The plaza was filled with a dozen other horses and carriages and a few guards stationed nearby came over to greet you and your family.

“Welcome to Nottingham,” one said and the two bowed before you. “I trust you’re here for the sheriff’s private dinner party?”

“Yes,” your mother replied. “We aren’t late are we?”

“Not at all!” the other guard said. “If you would follow us, we shall escort you to the great hall.”

“Wonderful!” she grinned and took a tight hold of your arm. “Now, I shouldn’t have to remind you to be on your best behavior, yes?”

“Of course,” you replied curtly and flinched when she squeezed tighter for one second more before relinquishing her grip and following your father’s lead up the stairs.

With a heavy sigh, you followed after them. Heading down several hallways and a set of stairs, the two guards offered your family one last curtsy before they pushed open the large wooden doors and announced your arrival.

Down below, several rows of tables had been set up and they were filled with an assortment of foods. There were rich cuts of venison and pork, wheels of cheeses and baskets of fresh bread. Bowls of fresh fruit and platters of baked goods also intermingled amongst all of the savory options, and several servant boys and girls weaved through the crowd, each holding a pitcher filled with aged wine.

As you neared the bottom of the stairs, you heard someone exclaim,

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite nobles with their notable daughter,”

Your father chuckled and he and your mother both bowed before a short, balding man with a greying beard wearing luxurious black robes.

You quickly followed suit and you heard the man laugh to himself.

“Come, we are all friends here, let us dispense with such formalities,” he said and came closer to you. “Is this your little scholar? Hmm?” he asked and gestured to you.

“Yes, my lord,” your mother replied. “She has only just returned from Bologna.”

“Bologna?” he echoed. “Why I’ve heard they’re only second to Paris in terms of their education. But,” he tutted and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “I thought students were granted the status of a cleric by canon, yet here you stand, an educated woman.”

“Oh, well,” she laughed nervously. “She… she was only taught the basics by a friend of ours, a local professor at the university, nothing having to do with the seven liberal arts,” she feigned stupidly.

“Shame,” he quipped. “It’d be nice to discuss the semantics of moral philosophy with someone. I thought you claimed she was trained in alchemy?”

“Did you tell everyone in England that I was a training alchemist?” you snapped.

The man before you laughed. “Spirited! My last alchemist was a meek disappointment, I like it when they have a bit of fire in them.”

You grimaced and scoffed internally. This man was making you severely uncomfortable.

“Oh, but where are my manners?” he said dramatically and suddenly took a hold of your hand. “I am Vasey, lord of this castle and the town of Nottingham. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the lovely young lady that has managed to capture my interest.”

You felt your skin crawl and it took all the power within you to manage to flash him a shaky, crooked smile. “So,” you said softly and swallowed a lump in your throat. “You must be the sheriff.”

He grinned in response, the sight of a glittering jewel on his left incisor catching your attention.

“At your service. I’d love to have a chat with you later, my dear, but I won’t keep you from the festivities. Come,” he finally turned away from you to flourish at the literal feast decked out on the tables. “Eat, drink. Take this as a humble offering of friendship.”

“‘Humble’? You are much too gracious, my lord,” your father replied and the sheriff snickered at his praise.

“Yes, yes. Tell me, my friend, how have things been?” the sheriff wrapped an arm around your father’s shoulders and led him away from you and your mother as they started to discuss something in private.

“Well, that went better than expected,” your mother muttered and grabbed your arm again as she took you to a nearby table with a few empty seats.

A plate of food was all but shoved into your face and although you weren’t particularly hungry, you had an inkling that you should stomach something, lest appear ungrateful.

You picked at some roasted vegetables, but were grateful for the variety of cheeses available, and paired with the never-ending wine, you were able to find yourself somewhat satiated.

Taking a few more sips from your goblet, you felt your nerves begin to dissipate and you sighed as you leaned back into your chair.

Your mother was making meaningless conversation with a few other noblewomen beside her and your father, who had long since returned from his escapades with the sheriff, stood nearby, surrounded by a group of men who were all laughing and uproariously shouting about lord knows what.

Frankly, you did not wish to be pulled into either realm of their faux-pas spectacles so you quickly excused yourself and went over to admire one of the centerpieces. Yes, you were that bored and that stubborn.

How much longer do we have to stay here and play nice? you thought. The idea of having to speak with the sheriff again made your stomach tie into knots and you sincerely hoped that he’d get so wrapped up in everyone else vying for his attention that he’d forget about you.

You let your fingers trail across the beautiful bird feather that stuck out of the bouquet of flowers and heaved a heavy sigh.

The more you dwelled on it, the clearer it became that the only reason your parents had ushered you home as quickly as they did, was solely due to your most recent academic undertaking. During your time in Bologna, they hardly sent any correspondence back on updates about your other studies, such as literature or astronomy or even philosophy. However, as soon as you picked up a skill that could be monetized? Their tune switched almost instantly.

Although you had always had a tumultuous relationship with your parents, it saddened you that they viewed this skill of yours as nothing more than an opportunity to further their status. You were an alchemist, someone dedicated to discovering the mysteries of the universe… not a modern-day Midas that could turn piss-poor metals into gold.

Even tonight seemed to be a ploy of some sort. Had they only brought you along because the sheriff was so interested in you? What did they hope to accomplish?

You frowned and folded your arms across your chest. Something didn’t feel right, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it…

“Excuse me?”

You paid no mind to whoever had just spoken, lost in your own thoughts as you attempted to deduce your parent's plan.

“Excuse me? My lady?”

Ugh, you inwardly groaned when you realized they were talking to you. I suppose I can endure one conversation… you thought and hoped it would at least pass the time by.

Turning around you feel your heart skip a beat when you find a man standing before you, a rather handsome man, you might add.

He was tall, fair-skinned with short black hair that framed his sharp face. His bright blue eyes seemed to shine in the candlelight and he gave you a smile that made butterflies dance in your stomach.

“I apologize,” he said and his deep baritone made you gasp quietly in delight. “I did not disturb you, did I?”

“Oh no,” you quickly replied with a shake of your head. “No, I was… simply lost in my own thoughts for a moment. I should be the one apologizing. It was you who called out to me a moment ago, was it not?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I merely wanted to introduce myself,” he explained. “I am Sir Guy of Gisborne, the sheriff’s master at arms.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Guy,” you replied and flashed him a charming smile as you introduced yourself.

“What a lovely name,” he said and you felt heat rise into your cheeks at his compliment. “I thought it appropriate we meet as I wished to see for myself just who this infamous alchemist the sheriff kept heralding was.”

“Oh,” you replied and tried to mask your disappointment. So he was only interested in getting into your favors to please the sheriff… you supposed you should have anticipated this happening.

“I am curious to know what drew you to the field,” he said. “I heard you studied in Bologna. Do they offer alchemy as a class?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you could not help the laughter that erupted from you. “What? A class? No,” you chuckled. “No, most schools are run and sourced by the church and I can’t exactly say that the church is the biggest fans of us alchemists.”

“Really?” he mused. “And why is that?”

“We seek to understand the meaning of our place in this world,” you explained. “One of the duties of an alchemist is to answer the great questions of mankind and I suppose trying to scientifically discover the meaning of life goes against the morals of the church.”

“Do your discoveries stray from God, my lady?” he asked you with a smirk.

“I doubt blasphemy is an appropriate conversation to hold over dinner, Sir Guy,” you replied just as playfully and bit your lip as he laughed.

“Just as well,” he said. “I’m simply surprised. You are so young, I never would have imagined a lovely woman such as yourself would find interest in the sciences.”

“Believe me,” you replied. “Transmutation and metallurgy are far more fascinating than playing the role of the dutiful daughter.”

“You’ve quite the sharp tongue,” he commented and you felt your face turn hot. “Are the churches in Europe far more progressive?”

“Only if they’re paid enough to be,” you replied in a whisper and giggled at the devilish smirk that spread across his lips.

This night was turning out to be more fun after all! It was a first for you to hold a conversation with a man that wasn’t immediately off-put by your wits. Not only that, he could hold his own and was not offended by your rather dicey sense of humor. Where had men like Guy been hiding out for all these years?

“Ah, Gisborne!”

The sound of the sheriff’s voice instantly soured your mood and you frowned. Well, tonight had been turning around…

Vasey paled in comparison to Guy’s stature however, in spite of this, Guy’s previous confident demeanor seemed to shrink under the sheriff’s intense gaze.

“I see you’ve found the belle of the ball,” he snickered and you laughed awkwardly in response. “I’m not surprised you came sniffing around here.”

“Sir Guy was merely introducing himself, my lord,” you replied. “He’s been engaging company,” you offered Guy a shy smile at his surprised expression.

“Gisborne? Engaging?” the sheriff chortled. “Well, that’s a first. Unless, of course, he jumped straight into discussing his own experiment.”

“Experiment?” you asked with a raise of your eyebrows. “You conduct experiments, Sir Guy?”

“Only one,” he replied and awkwardly shifted where he stood. “But, that was some time ago.”

“Yes, and it did not end all too well either,” the sheriff scowled. “Tell me, my dear, have you heard of black powder?”

“I can do you one better,” you said matter-of-factly. “I know how to make black powder.”

The sheriff’s eyes widened in shock and he gasped in delight. “You do?” he said softly and then grabbed your hands, holding them reverently as if silently blessing you. “Remarkable, absolutely remarkable.”

“Is… that what your experiment was?” you wondered, hoping that your question would get the sheriff away from you as soon as possible.

It seemed to work and he relinquished his grip to take a step back and nod his head. “Yes. Gisborne here had been in charge of commissioning someone but, unfortunately, he,” the sheriff dragged his finger across his neck and then shrugged his shoulders. “Took his secrets to the grave.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call the formula for black powder a secret,” you replied with a coy smile. “It’s been known by the Cathay Empire since at least the ninth century.”

“So you’re telling me, that if given the right ingredients, you would be able to cook me up a batch of black powder?” the sheriff asked.

“Of course, it’s a simple combination of charcoal and sulfur and—“

Vasey instantly hushed you on any further talk about this formula but assured you that your enthusiasm was very much appreciated.

“This is good,” he grinned. “This is very good. I should have known you’d be the perfect fit ever since your parents first mentioned you.”

You are clearly confused by his words, your face scrunched up together as you gazed upon him skeptically. “‘Perfect fit’? What are you talking about?”

“Oh,” he hummed. “Did mommy and daddy not tell you? That does add a bit of suspense to it then, hmm?” he laughed. “You, my dear, are to be my alchemist.”

“What?” you blurted out and started to laugh at the utter absurdity of the idea. However, any previous ideas of the sheriff lightheartedly joking evaporated into a puff of smoke when you took one long look at him.

Oh. He was serious.

“What do you mean I’m to be your alchemist?” you said carefully, your eyes narrowed only slightly.

“Do you think I just let anyone come to these private dinners of mine? A clue?” he shook his head. “No. I wanted to see for myself if you were as noteworthy as your parents heralded you to be and thankfully for you,” he took an imposing step forward and poked you in the chest with one of his stubby fingers. “You’ve passed.”

“My… my parents agreed to this?” you muttered and dread pooled into the pit of your stomach as your eyes whirled around in search of them.

They were nowhere to be found! Had… had they simply brought you here to be assessed by the sheriff? You weren’t something that could be passed around from one person to the next! You weren’t cattle!

“Where are they?” you seethed and the sheriff seemed to take an uncomfortable amount of glee in your anger.

“Their business is complete, my dear. My best guess is that they’re off to head back home.”

He made no effort to stop you as you shoved past him and raced up the stairs to make it to the courtyard.

Your heavy breaths fogged up in the chilled night air and the white light of the moon caused an eerie glow to fall on the shadows of the nearby coaches. You could hear a pair of voices whispering in a hushed tone as you neared your family’s personal carriage, anger coursing through your veins when you rounded the corner and came face-to-face with your parents.

“What have you done?” you snarled, catching them both by surprise.

“Darling!” your mother exclaimed and gave you a nervous smile. “What… what are you doing here? Surely you do not wish to miss the last half of the supper?”

“Save the act, mother,” you replied bitterly. “He already told me.”

“Told you what?”

The fact that she still tried to play innocent made your blood boil and you exclaimed, “He told me that I am to be his personal alchemist!” your feet stomped across the hard stone and you pointed an accusatory finger at the pair of them. “I am not some commodity to be passed around! First Bologna, now this? If you wanted me gone, at least spare me the theatrics and tell me outright.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” your father interjected. “You know we only want what is best for you!”

“That’s rich,” you replied sardonically.

“Watch your tongue, missy,” your mother snapped.

“No,” you quipped. “Do not lie and say that this decision was made with my best interests in mind when you and I both know that this is yet another cog in playing your roles as the sheriff’s loyal lapdogs—"

Smack!

The sound of a palm striking across bare skin rings out into the deathly quiet pavilion.

Your eyes are wide with shock and you feel tears start to well up and cloud your vision as you place a hand on your bruised cheek.

Your father huffed as he lowered his hand and gave you a menacing glare. “Now, I tolerated this attitude of yours when you returned from Bologna, believing you were scorned having been taken away from your studies prematurely. But this willfulness stops now. You are going to work for Vasey and that’s final,” he turned away to begin hauling himself into the carriage.

“Perhaps he will be the one to finally beat this resilience out of you.”

Your mother said nothing but her cold, piercing stare revealed all that you needed to know as she followed after your father.

When the carriage pulled out of the castle portcullis and receded from your view down the winding road of Nottingham, you released an arduous sigh.

You were silent as you ran in the direction of a nearby wall, hidden in the shadows and away from prying eyes. You rested your forehead against the stone, its natural chill cooling your heated skin. It was only then, did you allow the tears to fall.

You gasped as a torrent of tears streamed down your face and you weakly slammed your fist against the stone wall.

They had abandoned you… again.

You slowly crumbled into a heap on the floor, tucking your knees into your chest as you wiped away your tears with your sleeve. Were you the one to blame here? You always prided yourself on your sense of independence and headstrong attitudes, but could this have been your very undoing?

Bologna, you thought, despite giving your parents this newfound opportunity to brag about having an alchemist in the family, had not been nearly as successful in stomping out your spirit as initially hoped. Was Nottingham supposed to take its place then?

While you had been in Italy, for a brief moment, you almost felt in control of your life. The opportunity to both grow academically and spiritually had been life-changing. Your mind has been opened to the endless possibilities and questions that encompassed the human spirit and it was with this newfound knowledge that you were able to finally act independently.

Your whole life up until that point had been dictated by your parents, from what you wore, to what you ate, to even the company you kept. It took being sent thousands of miles away from home to make you truly feel alive.

However, you should have known that this feeling of boundless freedom was never meant to last. Sooner or later they would have you crawling back to England, willingly or not, and once again, it was impossible to not feel both incredibly powerless and incredibly frustrated.

You’d had your first taste at real purpose, one that you pursued wholeheartedly, and now that had been stolen from you as well.

No matter how hard you vied for change, the end result was always the same and an overwhelming sadness encompasses you at this realization, one that settles into the very marrow of your bones.

You took a gander up at the night sky, the stars twinkling brightly alongside the white light of the moon. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took a deep breath, your shoulders sagging from exhaustion as the reality of the situation caught up with you.

This… was your home now, this was your life now. You supposed it could be worse but you doubted that the sting left behind from this sense of betrayal would ever leave your bruised heart.

The sound of metal spurs clicking against the stone caught your attention and you're rooted to the spot as a figure emerged from the shadows and towered above you.

“Are you alright?”

Your eyes widened in surprise when Sir Guy appeared in the moonlight, his face creased with worry as he kneeled down before you.

Turning your head away from him, you cough into the crook of your arm and wave off his concern.

“Yes, I’m… I’m alright,” you said softly, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. “I just needed some time alone.”

He’s quiet and you hear the leather of his pants squeak as he adjusts his footing. “Do you wish to be alone?” he wondered. “The sheriff was worried when you did not return, so he sent me after you. I can tell him that you already went off to bed if you’d like.”

Your lips upturned into a smile and although your eyes were surely red and your cheeks surely puffy, you turned to face him to express your gratitude.

“That’s very kind of you, Sir Guy. I do not think I would be able to face the sheriff in the near future.”

“I’m assuming you spoke to your parents?”

You sighed and titled your head up to look back up at the dozens of stars that dotted the night sky. “Was it that obvious?” you replied dryly. “I was left with no say in the matter. It appears as though this had been their plan all along,”

“I hope you understand that you will not be treated as a prisoner here,” he said and you scoffed in response.

“Then why does it feel like it?”

You nearly jump out of your skin when Guy places a tentative hand on your shoulder and you look at him, absolutely bewildered.

“I apologize… if this isn’t exactly the life you envisioned. However, I assure you that life here in the castle isn’t completely unbearable.”

“Oh?” you said and felt yourself relax when you picked up the sudden playfulness in his tone.

“Once in a while, you’ll meet someone that turns this place around,” he said with a knowing smile and you laughed.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “I doubt even your charming company could help me warm up to this place.”

“It’s not all bad,” he said and you would be remiss to say that you weren’t disappointed when he removed his hand from your shoulder.

“Since Nottingham is at the center of this shire, all of the villages are in relatively close proximity. It’s a nice escape to visit every once in a while.”

“Would the sheriff even allow me to go anywhere?” you asked cynically. “Seems to me the only reason I’m here is to be his alchemist.”

“I am not sure what your parents told you, but you are a guest here in the castle,” Guy replied earnestly. “I know the sheriff may seem rather�� eccentric, but you are now a valued member of his team. Think of being his alchemist as your job. Even the farmers that toil in the fields all day have time to rest, recuperate, maybe visit the market,”

You finally brought your eyes to meet his and felt your heart skip a beat at the smile on his face.

“I’m sure this must be incredibly jarring, being brought home from Bologna only to be thrust here of all places,” he said sympathetically. “In time, however, I am sure you will learn to see this place as a second home.”

His kind words helped dull the sting you had previously been feeling, nevertheless it was hard to remain optimistic in such a situation. For now, you supposed you could get by with exuding a facade of collective composure, at least long enough till you decided how you truly felt about this place.

You reached over and gave Guy’s arm a reassuring squeeze, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Thank you, Sir Guy,” you said. “I… I will try.”

He smiled and got up from the floor and offered you his gloved hand. You took it and in one strong pull, he hoisted you up.

“If you’d like,” he said. “I could show you to your room.”

“That would be lovely,” you replied with a smile. “Thank you.”

You shyly wrapped your arms around the one he politely extended to lead and the two of you silently began to walk through the halls of Nottingham castle.

It was much bigger than you initially anticipated and if it weren’t for Guy, you surely would have gotten lost. You started to worry about the following morning and sincerely hoped that the sheriff would send someone down to fetch you lest you wander off into an unsavory part of the castle.

The halls were sparsely decorated with various weapons and tapestries but nothing too extravagant, which you found a little odd considering the sheriff’s rather audacious wardrobe choice.

Walking up a set of stairs, Guy leads you down a hallway before slowly coming to a stop before a large wooden door.

“This is where you shall be staying,” he said and pulled it open for you.

It was fairly large and furnished with a bed, desk, armoire, and even a fireplace. It did not exactly feel very homey but, for now, it would do.

“Feel free to request anything that you may need with any of the guards stationed around,” Guy said. “They’ll fetch anything so long as they can find it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied and dragged your hand across the blanket that lay on top of the bed. It was surprisingly very soft.

“And, if you’d like, I could give you a tour of the castle tomorrow, to help you familiarize yourself with its layout. I know how confusing it looks to first-time visitors.”

“That would be very helpful,” you said and turned back to face him. “Thank you, Sir Guy—for everything. It’s reassuring to know that I have at least one friend here.”

His eyes lit up and he gifted you another stunning smile before he bowed his head. “Of course, milady. I will be here at your beck and call, all you need to do is ask.”

You giggled and curtsied as you said, “You are too kind to me. I will see you tomorrow, then?”

He nodded his head. “Of course. Till then, I wish you a pleasant rest of your evening, milady,” he said and departed with one last glance, closing your door with a quiet click.

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Beautiful War

-dragonswithjetpacks

Chapter Six: Appealing to Val Reous

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Read here on Ao3

The sun was just setting behind the city of Val Royeaux when they caught its glory at the top of a small hill. Agreeing that approaching the gate at dawn would be a better idea, the group made a small camp while enjoying the view. Orlais was particularly green this time of year. The ladies in the city would be wearing pastels and flowers. Not to mention, showing as much of their breasts as they possibly could get away with. It made Claira smile. She was never found of fashion. But the springtime cakes they made were always so delightful. Though their smell was more satisfying than the taste.

"You've been quiet," Varric implied as they rest.

"I'm always quiet," Claira disagreed.

"It's been an unsettling type of quiet."

"I didn't realize there were different types of quiet," she shaved off a piece of meat roasting over their fire.

"You keep looking at the city. And heaving that big sigh of yours."

"I'm finding it odd that you watch me enough to notice I have a particular sigh," she chuckled to herself before she took a bite of her meal.

"People who are easy to read are always fun to watch."

"I'm not that fun to watch," she said between bites.

"Normally you aren't," he propped his elbow atop his knee. "But you got this particular look growing on your face the closer we get to the city."

"Because I never thought I'd be going back to Orlais," she shrugged. "Let alone Val Royeaux."

"You've been to Val Royeaux before?" Cassandra was suddenly interested.

"My mother is Orlesian, so we visited on a few occasions. But I've lived in Val Royeaux. Twice in what I might consider my adulthood."

"Ah, yes, Lady Helena was from a smaller lesser known nobility," the Seeker recalled.

Claira had not spoken of her mother in so long that it was almost off-putting to hear her name. They had not made contact in some time. And the most recent letter she received was about Jordan's missing persons. There were never any pleasantries with Helena; it was always demanding and berating. The woman needed complete control.

"She hates coming here," Claira added. "I'd like to think it is because it reminds her of how fake she truly is."

"Then it must bring you bad memories," Cassandra empathized.

"Quite the opposite," Claira smiled, looking out longingly to the city. "Orlais was the beginning of my freedom."

"Do go on," Solas joined the fire at last. "I'm sure we've all been waiting for a glimpse of your youth."

"You've been locked up pretty tight, Herald," Varric agreed. "I think it's your turn for storytime."

Claira turned back to her party, all of them watching and waiting with bright eyes. It was the first time she was able to share any sort of personal information regarding herself. On the other hand, she had gotten to know them quite well, even considered them friends. Indeed, being back in Orlais brought up memories, both good and bad. As a child, she never had a chance to speak without being shut down. And as an adult, she realized that she had shut herself down as a defense. But here, in a place that had sparked her new beginning with the people she had learned to trust, she felt safe.

"I was sent to a girl's school when I was young. Around the age of fifteen."

"That late?" Cassandra seemed surprised. "And so far away?"

"I was not a compliant child," Claira laughed. "I had many house mistresses that found me unreasonable. Eventually, I was sent to Starkhaven. But the headmistress stated she couldn't help, either. Even as my wild side was gradually tamed, I was still clumsy, homely, and awkward. It didn't matter how polite or intelligent I was... I was considered a lost cause."

"How absurd," Solas appeared disgusted.

"I was sent to Orlais in hopes I would return a lady. But because of my age, the teachers were harder on me. It was almost torture. Most of them were cruel. But they allowed me to study in peace if it meant not having to deal with me. And the books in Orlais were incredible. I could have been a scholar with all the time I spent in that library."

"Why didn't they just transfer you?" Cassandra inquired.

"My mother was spending a good amount of my father's fortune making sure I didn't come back home until I was guaranteed a husband. I think eventually their goal was to find a nobleman not necessarily suitable for me, but willing to settle. I was never interested in marriage, though. I was set on becoming a warrior at a young age. So I left the school."

"By left, you mean snuck out?" Varric questioned.

"Snuck out would be putting it lightly," Claira laughed. "I planned for weeks to get out of that place. And when I did, I ran until I couldn't see the city anymore. I found a place to lay low. And that's when I met my mentor."

The party was quiet, listening to the campfire crack as she paused.

"Most have just assumed I was a typical Trevelyan Free Marcher. But I was never part of that life or the Chantry. I was never even given the option to become a Sister. Looking back, that's probably what I should have done when I left the school. Instead, I left with a strange man who told me I could achieve my dreams of becoming a warrior. It was stupid of me to trust him. But I'm glad I did. I trained under him for many years while traveling. He brought me back to Val Royeaux to the Academie in hopes I could be knighted, allowing me to live a life I had truly wanted."

"I should have known," Cassandra shook her head. "I imagined with the reputation of the Trevelyans that you were just a natural fighter. But there's no mistaking your stance is Orlesian. I always meant to ask."

"So that means all those nobles from Orlais that come by speaking their language and talking with that snooty tone... you can understand them?" Varric asked.

"Oui," Claira smirked. "Chaque mot. Every single word."

Varric let out a loud burst of laughter.

"This would have been useful information," Cassandra was still in shock.

"I didn't want to ruin the surprise," she shook her head. "Besides, if Josephine knew, she'd have me speak to the nobles more often."

"Isn't she giving you lessons?" Cassandra pressed.

Again, Varric rolled over in a fit of laughter as Claira half shrugged, half nodded. Solas remained silent, although very much enjoying the conversation in itself. And no one stopped Claria from speaking about her adventures in Orlais from that point. They only interrupted her to ask questions, much to her liking. It was the first time she had spoken about it to anyone, not that it was a secret. The more she told of her rebellious childhood and the harsh ways of her mother, the more she realized how much mental abuse she had been through. She couldn't imagine being that cruel to anyone.

************************************************

The gates into Val Royeaux were surprisingly empty. Claira remembered merchants and travelers flooded the archway into the city. Peddlers and pickpockets loved the area, as many people stopped to linger there to admire the stone masonry. Now, only a few people were scattered through the walkway. Claira was not the only one who noticed the lack of others.

"The city still mourns," Cassandra observed.

A couple who had been speaking quietly amongst each other passed by them innocently. However, once they caught sight of Claira, their jaws dropped and their eyes widened behind their mask. They took off in a slight run toward the open gate without daring to glance back.

"Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are," Varric jested.

"Your skills of observation never fail to impress me Varric," she retorted.

"My Lady Herald!" a scout greeted them from the city.

"You’re one of Leliana’s people. What have you found?" Cassandra questioned without hesitation.

"The Chantry mothers await you, but… so do a great many templars."

"There are templars here?"

Claira felt her chest grow tight. The intention was to meet with the Chantry, not the templars. They would have eventually attempted an audience with them, but this was too soon. She was unprepared. They continued walking through the entrance as they were informed of the current situation.

"People seem to think the templars will protect them from…" he faltered."...from the Inquisition. They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the templars intend to meet you," the scout continued.

"They wish to protect the people? From us?" the Seeker was still confused.

"We expected this," Claira stated.

"From the Chantry, yes. But I didn't expect the templars to make an appearance."

"The people may just be assuming what the tempalrs will do. I've heard of no concrete plans," the scout confirmed.

"Do you think the Order’s returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?" Varric added his sense to things.

"I know Lord Seeker Lucius," Cassandra explained. "I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense, not after all that’s occurred."

"We’re doing all this to get help with the breach. Maybe this is our chance to get the templars on our side," Claira attempted to remain optimistic.

"Perhaps..." Cassandra wasn't convinced. "Return to Haven. Someone will need to inform them if we are… delayed."

"As you say, my lady," he placed a fist over his chest and trotted off to exit the gates.

As they progressed through the walkway, a group of guards began to observe them. They were not quiet about their conversation and there were hints of the Inquisition harboring murderers. It appeared the city was relying on the templars to protect them from their heresy the Chantry was spreading any misinformation they could. It was horrible timing, she had to admit. And it was going to be difficult to proposition both sides while they were standing next to each other. It wouldn't be as simple as uniting under one cause. This was going to be a political battle.

"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!"

Mother Hevara, one of the Chantry members who was supposed to be greeting the Inquisition shouted on a stage in the center of the market as they approached. Standing next to her were two other sisters. And in front, a wall of templar guards. Many of the citizens had gathered before her. Claira recognized a trap when she saw one. Even if it had no teeth.

"Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more! Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! No servant of anything beyond her selfish greed," the sister preached.

The crowd of people parted as they passed. The plan was to antagonize The Herald to the point of attack. With as many people surrounded her to witness the savagery, the trial would be quick. But Claira was smarter than that. It was almost insulting how stupid they assumed she would be. If they wanted to cause a scene, she would most certainly give them one. Claira was aware of how Orlais truly operated.

"We came to you in peace, only to talk," she spoke loudly, but calmly. "But this is what you choose instead? I implore you: Let us sit down together, to deal with the real threat!"

She turned to the common people who were too intimidated to move, looking many of them in the eyes. They gazed upon her as if she were a mythical being of wonder. It was a mixture of both awe and fear. Claira seized that moment and bolstered her voice.

"Do you know everything the Maker commands? Look up in the sky! I alone survived the Breach ... and I can end it!"

"And this is how you gain favor with Orlesians... with who can put on a bigger show..." Varric muttered under his breath.

"It appears to be working," Solas whispered back.

"It’s true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!" the Seeker added, looking to the templars for a reaction.

"It is already too late!" Mother Hevara pointed to the templars who were now taking the stage. "The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this Inquisition and the people will be safe once more!"

Claira was not prepared for her next act. However, the scene was ended abruptly when a templar approached Mother Hevara. It appeared as though he was going to escort her off stage. Though, she was quite wrong. Instead, he struck the Chantry Mother across the face, sending her to the hard stage floor. She cried out, but no one moved to help her. A templar hesitated, only to be held back as Lord Seeker Lucius entered the stage.

"Still yourself. She is beneath us."

The templar looked unsure but still did nothing. Claira moved forward, but Cassandra quickly grabbed her by the arm. Something seemed very wrong, but there was not enough time to act upon it. There was not enough information to pick a side.

"What's the meaning of this?" she questioned instead.

"Her claim to authority is an insult. Much like your own," he looked down on her.

"So you're here to deal with the Inquisition?"

"As if there were any reason to."

His ambiguity made Claira's skin boil. Cassandra tightened her grip.

"Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with-"

"You will not address me," he interrupted his fellow Seeker.

He motioned to the templars and they began to shift as he walked away. Cassandra was taken aback. Her grip loosened on Claira's arm. They exchanged glances at one another, both suddenly very concerned. It was a far reach, but Claira began to hope this was some sort of play they stumbled into.

"Lord Seeker?" Cassandra was still confused.

Lucius stopped, clearly agitated. Looking into his dull eyes made his presence even more heavy and dark. This was not the man her cousins had described, nor the reasonable person Cassandra claimed him to be. Months ago, when Claira was traveling to the Temple with her cousins, she remembered hearing them discuss the discontinuing of the Nevarran Accords. Lucius inherited the role and ideas of his predecessor, but it was commonly accepted that he was more than willing to compromise.

"Creating a heretical movement, raising a puppet as Andraste’s prophet," he finally confronted them. "You should be ashamed. You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine."

The words were far more dangerous than any threat he could have given. Lucius was now a tyrannical man with a lust for power. He wanted recognition, for whatever reason. Which was fine on its own. However, he wanted to destroy his adversaries so that he may rise from their downfall. The Chantry, the mages, the Inquisition; they were all beneath him.

"If you’re not here to help the Chantry, then you just came to make speeches?" Claira retaliated.

"I came to see what frightens old women so, and to laugh," his voice lowered, making it all the more unsettling.

"You openly refuse the Herald?"

"You have nothing. No influence, no power, and certainly no holy purpose."

His assumptions burned at her like a hot iron. It left marks that made her clench her fists in rage. There was nothing she could do. She could say no more. She could not lash out. She could not even move without risking her good nature. This was not how she intended their meeting to be. She felt like a child once again being beaten by her mother. She felt helpless.

"But Lord Seeker…" the hesitant templar spoke ."What if she was truly sent by the Maker? What if—?"

A higher-ranked office stepped between the templar and the Lord Seeker. "You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!"

"I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void," Lucius drew attention from the crowd. "We deserve recognition. Independence! You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition… less than nothing."

The Lord Seeker made a point to look fiercely at Claira as if it would weaken her soul. Something was reaching for her behind that stare. But it was not enough to break her. It only added more fuel to her flame. She prayed there would be a time they would cross paths again without any spectators.

"Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"

The market was still, all but the sound of clanking armor as the templars left Val Royeaux. It wasn't just the Inquisition left stunned, it was quite literally everyone who had witnessed the horrifying affair. As the sound of their marching fainted, whispers began to rise from the people.

"Charming fellow, isn’t he," Varric was the first to break their silence.

"Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?" Cassandra almost shouted in frustration.

"I thought you knew the Lord Seeker?" Claira turned to her, almost angry at the information she had been fed.

"He took over the Seekers of Truth nearly a year ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert’s death. He was always a decent man, never given to grandstanding. This is very bizarre."

"It doesn't look like he can be reasoned with."

"There must be those in the Order who see what he’s become."

"We can investigate once we return to Haven," Claira assured. "We still have the matter of the Chantry."

Mother Hevara was nearly forgotten. After the templars openly denounced the Chantry in front of everyone, no one bothered to help her off the stage. They only stared, whispering to one another and spreading the rumors even further. But now that Claira was able to get to her without being barred, she was at her side. The Sisters stepped back, still feeling threatened by the Inquisition. Despite the vile glare the Mother gave her, Claira assisted her onto her feet with gentle hands.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Hardly," the Mother replied roughly. "This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra."

"We came here seeking only to speak with The Mothers. This is not our doing, but yours," Cassandra replied.

"And you had no part in forcing our hand? Do not delude yourself," the Mother's fight had returned. "Now, we have been shown up by our own templars in front of everyone. And my fellow clerics have scattered into the wind, along with their convictions."

"I understand the hardships the Chantry has faced," Claira spoke. "But you'll find no pity here."

"Just..." the Mother sighed. "Tell me one thing: Do you truly believe you are the Maker's Chosen?"

"Whether by the Maker himself or by fate, yes, I believe I was chosen."

"I suppose it is out of our hands, now. We shall see what the Maker plans in the days to come."

"Take care, Mother Hevara," Claira gave a slight nod.

The Mother nodded back, only out of common courtesy. Claira could feel her death stare watching her back as she left the stage. She made her way through the market, Cassandra and others following close behind.

"Well, at least we've been able to calm one side of the three-headed beast," Claira sighed.

"For now," Cassandra replied. "The other clerics are another matter. Either way, we should return to Haven and inform the others."

Claira opened her mouth in response, but the familiar sound of a blade cutting through the air caught her attention. he held her hand out just in time as a whistling sound brushed by her ear. An arrow from a balcony above shot straight into a small spot where the dirt was showing through the stone. There was a letter tied to it with a single red ribbon. It looked like one of the ribbons used for the Inquisition's missives. The party looked upward but saw no one.

"Not just yet," Claira grinned. "It looks like there are others to appeal to in Val Reouyx."

[tetrakys]

Sweet Elite - chapter 10

I finally played the episode on both my active accounts, review below the cut.

The episode starts with Scholar reminiscing the Halloween party and finally openly admitting to themselves they have a crush on the person chosen in the previous episode. As you probably remember I’m currently on Tegan’s and Axel’s routes.

Tegan:

Axel:

I... am destined to suffer with this game.

After this realisation we decide that the most important thing is to focus on our studies to be sure we’ll be able to remain at the academy. After studying we go to the cafeteria to have dinner and we find there the person we are in love with, we have a lovely dinner together 

Axel:

They talk about school for a bit

(Babe I forgive you only because you are cute, and also because you are teasing, your file says that math is one of your strengths, so cut the crap. )

Then he talks about him leaving school to go on tour.

(LMAO his face)

(!!!!!!! YES PLEASE!!!! but admit you’d do it because YOU want to see ME day and night 😏)

[...]

Ah! Someone who understands that scholarship students are brighter than the average Arligton student. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out... I mean... someone would have to be veeeeery stupid and close minded to think the opposite... wouldn’t they...  🙄

Funny but... I’m sure we can come up with another form of punishment 😊😏

Tegan:

There’s not much to show about the dinner with Tegan, as I said multiple times until we literally jump on him we’re going to get nowhere with him.

SCHOLAR SHOULD I REMIND YOU THAT YOU’RE IN THE MATH DEPARTMENT TOO?? 

Then he makes his back crack and Scholar gets spooked and they talk about being weird and true to themselves.

I’m a bit sad that in all the cute moments with Tegan you can rarely tell if they are flirty or just friendly. I know they reflect his personality, but it’s disappointing.

At the end of the dinner we agree that we had fun and we should do this again after the exams.

And this is where the episode ends.

......

Okay, no, I’m jooooooooking

This is where most interactions with our crush end and Karol/Neha’s arc begins (still not sure if the arc is only about Karol or both, I’d say both). 

Someone took a picture of scholar hugging Tadashi to console him during his arc and it got viral for some reason, so now Arlington’s sweetheart is again getting attention and the school board has decided to use the free publicity to raise the school’s profile in people’s eyes, so scholar is going to be one of Faxion’s judges. Scholar and Tadashi are called in Lady A’s office to talk about this, but they have to keep the secret until it’s publicly announced.

There is a very funny group chat scene where people try to get information out of Scholar and Tadashi, the picture comes out and we get no reaction from Tegan (he is the one who shares the link, so he might have at least brooded about it for a bit I hope), but we get a small cute scene with Axel

(Also, apparently he’s a dog person. Nice.)

Scholar, my child, could you try to use a bit of this sass with Tegan? You’re gonna die alone if you don’t.

After this, Faxion is announced and Scholar’s role too. You would guess that the smart thing to do is to treat well ALL the people who are going to to judge your work, right? Right? With respect, like any other human being deserves at the very least. But noooo of course not.

I’ve tried really hard to like you Karolina. I really did.

But you are a bitch.

Someone who defines people’s worth by how much money their parents own is even less than stupid. 

She even tries to show she has some higher moral ground respect to another model who is just as an asshole as she is. I can’t see much of a difference between the two.

What’s the difference with Karolina? I see none.

Scholar tries to make peace with Karol and be an impartial judge. We meet the other judges, among them there is a Luis Vuitton knock-off who is apparently friend with lady A and knows things about both Scholar and Neha. They are really fishy. In fact they out Neha as a scholarship student in front of the whole school. This is where things go to shit. Up until this point Neha and Karol where a great team and way ahead of everyone else, but now Karol can barely stand Neha’s sight.

I see how Karol can be hurt that Neha has lied to her all this time, but it doesn’t justify the shitty way she treats her at this point. Also, try at least to be smart and civil until the competition is over instead of actively sabotaging everything because now that you know Neha is not rich her ideas are worth less in your eyes. But no, why be smart when you can be completely stupid.

In all this we also find out that Karol is anorexic, which we suspected since episode 2, and that Neha is in love with her, which we knew since episode 1. We talk to Raquel, Claire, Tegan and Neha about Karol’s eating disorder and the episode ends with the winners about to be announced (Karol and Neha of course) but Karol faints in front of the entire school.

A few comments:

- I appreciate when the writing is solid enough to make the reader see where the plot is going, instead of pulling things out of nowhere for pure shock value. Surprises are good only when they are well planned.

- I also liked that Scholar had an active role. I didn’t expect them being a judge and even if it’s a bit of a stretch I liked seeing that we are not a secondary character in our story. However I’m still turned off by the fact that scholar’s department makes no difference in the story. A scholar in the fashion department can’t be considered the “general population” vote. I know that the excuse for them not being in the competition is that they don’t have a ranking yet, but it makes no sense in my opinion. Even blaming it on the school board is a stretch. But this is not the only instance something like this has happened, a scholar in science needing someone to explain them the science lecture. A scholar in math teaming up with Tegan and Ellie to only end up shopping for computer parts online. I wish these things were better thought.

- I’m calling out whoever in the dev/art/writing team has a CLEAR preference for Neha. She is the only one we can raise the meter this episode. In my gameplays the only one we got a romantic interaction in one of the past episodes. The only one we have an extra solo illustration with. And I assume we have a 1-1 illustration with her here because this is her arc (same as what happened with Tadashi), so I’m expecting a 1-1 illustration with Karol next episode. However I feel the bias for Neha, same as what I felt the last episode with Axel, and no one can change my mind.

- This episode made me dislike Karolina a lot. I assume I should be nicer with her because she has an eating disorder, but her being a bitch has nothing to do with her anorexia. The two things may come from the same issue, her needing to be perfect for whatever reason, and I’m sure we will get a teary explanation at some point that will make me forgive her, but still... she deserves take accountability for her own actions. I hope she looses the award.

- Neha doesn’t deserve to loose, she is talented and works hard, she deserves to find another partner. Don’t worry Neha, there are lots of people who can walk in a straight line in the world, there’s no need to attend an elite school for this. However she is also quite spineless, but there’s still hope for her, I understand why she has been lying all this time if she was trying to build a business in such an elitist world. I hope this serves her as a lecture and she learns to stand up for herself and others when such things happen.

All in all I liked the episode. It’s not perfect but as a character arc episode is thousands times better than Tadashi’s was. I just hope we’ll be done with Karol quickly and move on to better things.

[armymaryoongi]

Chapter One: Sakura Handkerchief

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, slightly mature, historical au; king au

warning: none (for cutie Yoongi, yes!)

words count: 1k+

Special appearance: Villager Jeon Jungkook and Kim Seokjin

Note: English is not my native language

(Names, places and incidents are just based on fiction)

masterlist // Ch.Two

Summary: Just like any other kids, King Min Yoongi also has his own childhood memories but his involved a mystery girl who he met once and was known as his love at the first sight. Will he gets any chance to meet her again? What will he does when he found her? Will the girl remember her too?

“Prince!! Where are you going?” the guards screamed while chasing the Crown Prince. A burst of snicker laughter escaped from his mouth, trying his best to run away from his personal guards. Abruptly, he stopped running. His black eyes wildly scanning the area of the palace. He fistful his baby blue hanbok as anxiety rushed inside him, he doesn’t know where to hide. The sounds of their footsteps are getting near and this boy looked so helpless but not until he found a magnificent spot to hide. He fastens his steps, afraid if the guards hear his footsteps if he runs.

Not long after that, he heard the guards complained, “Where is the Crown Prince going? The King will scold us.” Of course, they will be scolded soon because he ran away from his scholar, Kim. It’s not that his scholar is a bad guy but the Crown Prince feels like ditching his class for today. He wanted to sneak out of the palace as he wants to go to his favourite place, the market. 

“Let’s split into three groups. One group at the main gate, one group at the garden and the other one at the throne hall. Let’s go!” the Head Personal Guard commanded, don’t want to give up their mission in tracking the lost Crown Prince. His eyes followed them as the fear of getting caught crept up to him again. At last, when he guaranteed the guards have disappeared from that place, he backed up slowly from his spot and ran to the wall. “Ah, it’s a piece of cake to run from them. I am the Crown Prince of Joseon! I am Min Yoongi! Nobody can read my movements.” he said proudly and chuckled left from his mouth while getting off the wall. 

Min Yoongi is the only Crown Prince of the kingdom as the Queen couldn’t bear another child anymore because of health matter. The King is not like any other kings who have stunning concubines by his side. He doesn’t care about having another heir or any concubines because his Queen is the love of his life. For him, the Crown Prince Min is qualified enough to be the next heir and he doesn’t want to take any risk; Min Yoongi is an obedient child but he can be naughty sometimes, just like the current situation. Imagine if the Min couple has three to four children like the little Min, they will easily get a headache!

“It’s been a while since I came here. Nothing change?” the curious Min whispered to himself, afraid if the villagers recognise him. Once again, his sharp eyes went wild, cautiously observed his surrounding. “Of course, the genius Min needs to hide.” he adjusted the hat (Gat) he is wearing now, make sure it can cover his face a bit and his unique blonde hair. 

The reason he always goes to the market is that he likes the environment, how the villagers running their errands; from selling those unique handcrafts to buying a basket of fishes from the fishmonger. It makes him feel happy as these remind him of how hard his father and the ministers have work in bringing a better and peaceful surrounding to the country and the villagers. Absolutely, he wants to be like his father, a role model of his, when he gets the throne in the future. With no hesitation, he took more steps that led him to one of his favourite shop, Jeon Arts and Crafts. The corner of his lips lifted as he excitedly looked at the variety of unique handcrafts displayed on the wood table. 

“Sir, how can I assist you? Any specific handcrafts that you are looking for?” asked the young Jeon to the prince and flashed his bunny smile. In this town, everyone knows who is the Jeon. His family inherited the talents and the villagers know them for such an incredible and good quality item of arts. They could create such a unique item for the villagers to decorate their hut or house. Not forget to mention, this shop will always be swarmed with youthful girls and women since the Jeon also inherited the good looking in their blood.

Not to get caught again, the genius Min deepens his voice, “It’s okay, Mr Jeon. I’m just looking.” The young Jeon just nodded, understand his customer’s intention. All of a sudden, the prince heard those footsteps. He can easily recognise as he has been living with it since he was a little child. He sighed because he knows he needs to change his spot immediately. With a bundle of nerves, he went straight to the next two shops from the Jeon as he saw a group of adolescent girls. He thought he can blend in with them and perhaps the guards don’t see him.

To pay respect, the villagers quickly giving space to the guards to walk. However, they felt weird why the guards who belong to the palace came at the market. Did someone betray the country? There’s an illegal seller? They couldn’t make their mind. 

Meanwhile, the prince pretended to be mesmerised with embroidery even though he was in bewilderment as he has stumbled upon the embroidery shop. ‘Please, please…Let me escape this time too.’ he quietly prays as his gaze set down at the sakura embroidery handkerchief. He couldn’t take his eyes off from it. Without he noticed, his hand slowly moved to that handkerchief, thinking to buy it. Howbeit, before his hand could reach it first, he saw a hand of a girl grabbed it. Even though he knows about it, his mind can’t process to pull back his hand and eventually, he touched that feminine hand.

Sudden heat flooded his body and tinged his pale cheeks with rosy colour as he looked up at the owner of the hand. His mind has plotted to apologise for his clumsiness but not his mouth. Not only him but the girl also looked at him, cheeks slightly blushed as she realised it was a hand of a boy. The son of the king looked so speechless, lips slightly parted, couldn’t take his eyes off from her just like the time he looked at the sakura handkerchief. 

Her eyes are pretty as the lotus petals, her small button nose compliment her cute face and the red colour tinted her lips perfectly. Absolutely, giving her an innocent look as she is wearing her pink hanbok. The long-forgotten handkerchief fell from her grip but not Min’s hand still touched hers. The girl who was attracted to his black sharp eyes quickly pulled her hand from Min and walked away.

Min snapped from his fantasy as he realised the situation. Forgot about his personal guards who are tired of searching him, his slender legs slowly followed her footsteps and accidentally revealed himself to the public. “That’s our Crown Prince!” shouted an excited fishmonger, Kim Seokjin. Everyone bowed to him but the sad Min failed to realise about it. That girl was the only thing he could think of. 

The guards were all aware of the sudden screaming and their surrounding. In the twinkling of an eye, the Head Personal Guard spotted the wanted Crown Prince and he plodded to the sad boy, to not wanting to scare the boy. “Your highness. Are you okay?” he noticed how the boy startled when he caught him. The Crown Prince let out a sudden sighed, frustrated with himself as he couldn’t spot the sight of that angelic girl.

Accompanied with a frown on his handsome face, he walked back at the embroidery shop and tried to find the handkerchief. As he found it, he pressed his lips into a thin smile and asked the owner to wrap it for him. The Head Personal Guard who everyone in the palace couldn’t deny has been the closest person to the Crown Prince felt curious about his sudden behaviour. “Let’s head back to the palace.” the last sentence he has listened from the gloomy Min that day.