#myth rags on Throne of Glass

[longsightmyth]

Me looking suddenly up at work: it's awfully rich of Queen of Shadows to say snootily of a banker who has behaved perfectly normally with Celaena and been helpful that the portrait on his desk could be his wife or his daughter because 'you never knew with men like him' while Celaena, a barely nineteen year old, is banging a 500+ year old man who the narrative wants me to think is dreamy

[oldestenemy]

Time isn’t solid in the Spiral.

That is what they learn.

When they land choking and sobbing in the heart of Bartleby, as the Spiral Key for Azteca turns to ash in their grip. As they drag themselves in a dead sprint to the center of the Myth classroom, stuttering and coughing and coated in glittering glass dust from Xiabalba. Cyrus Drake ushers them to Ambrose’s office before the students he’d been lecturing can look too close.

He does not ask if they are okay.

Ambrose says there was nothing they could do.

Nothing they could have done.

The wizard wants to scream that there is—there was—there could be—

Perhaps the Headmaster can see the way their whole body begins to coil like an overwound spring.

“Do not linger too deeply on this,” He says, voice still altogether too soft, too gentle. “For some places, Azteca will live on many centuries or even millennia yet—”

“—But not here, not for them, not for me.” The wizard spits, looking down at their hands still smudged with the remains of the key. And then they remember. They left a mark there. At the base of the statue that would vault them to Xiabalba. Just in case things went… badly.

They think Cyrus figures it out just as they finish the sigil of transport.

But the wizard is already gone.

Opening their eyes to smoke and the whistle-crash of meteorites as they hit the ground.

Somewhere distant, they hear screaming.

No, no no no it was supposed to be better—Maybe, maybe if—

Panicked, they draw the same marking sigil at the base of the statue and then teleport home.

The sounds of Grizzleheim’s familiar woods envelope them as their watchtower hall comes into view. But they don’t pay it any mind. They grab for the spiral door and after fumbling through their keys, pull out the one for Mooshu, if Emperor Yoshihito had taken the throne just before the fall of Celestia then maybe—maybe it was soon enough—

They do not linger in the brightly lit market of Mooshu’s imperial city.

The flash of their own spellwork surrounds them as they return to the mark in Azteca.

And there is still screaming.

There are still head and fist sized chunks of glass raining from the sky—

There is a workaround.

There must be a workaround.

Zafaria is no better, they are a handful of decades after Mooshu in time.

Dragonspyre—

…Would that work?

Would going back in time within a place itself work? Would it hold between worlds?

This time they run through the Zocalo to the spiral door, not bothering to go home, just marking the same sigil in the damp ground of the Quetzal Grove before—

Damnit.

Before returning to Bartleby’s core. Before running dead sprint out once more, this time towards the edge of the void left by the death school. Looking desperately for—

“Malorn!”

Malorn Ashthorn jumps a mile at the ragged shout of his name, and the smaller students around him scatter like startled fish. “Hey— I was—oh, oh gods what happened to you?”

“No time—” The wizard is breathless and their throat is still burning from the smoke, “—The Dragonspyre key, now.”

He seems to know better than to protest. The wizard can’t blame him. They don’t know what they look like right now, but they know by the time they were headed for Xiabalba everyone on Azteca was watching them as if they might explode at the softest touch.

Malorn pulls a chain with the key on it from around his neck, and barely has time to offer it up before the wizard snatches it away and takes back off. “Hey- hey wait!” He starts to follow but they do not have time or thought to look back. “What happened?”

The soft tones of their ever present companion invade as they reach the spiral door again.

As you turn the spiral key of Dragonspyre into the door, deep down, you know it will not work.

Shut up. Shut up.

If Raven wants to weave her impressive lies about fate—let her.

The wizard has called off fate before.

They will do it again.

The heat of the Basilica overwhelms them as they stumble out into the dim light of ruined Dragonspyre.

“Stop this madness.” Cyrus Drake is standing before them with the same words he offered to his own brother, moments before the wizard was forced to strike him down. And their barely-viable plan shatters before it can even begin. “You know better.”

“I don’t want to know better.” The wizard shoots back, and for a moment they can feel their spell deck burn in the pocket of their robes. Like their own body is ready for a fight they have not yet decided to initiate. “Get out of my way.”

Is this what it’s like?

Is this how he felt?

“Or what,” Cyrus questions, eyebrows raised. “Tell me—did you think like this when you first saw Dragonspyre of old? Did you grieve the trees at the academy who were felled? The hundreds of lives lost under the titan?”

“Stop it!” The wizard shouts “Stop trying to rationalize it— I can fix this, I can save them, I am supposed to—

“You are supposed to be my student, my responsibility, and a child.”

This is where the laughter starts.

It shakes the wizard to their knees where it turns into sobbing.

When was the last time they truly felt a child?

So what if they’re barely still a teenager.

No longer ten and facing off ghosts.

No longer fourteen and facing Malistaire.

Nineteen and facing Malistaire as a shade had felt even worse.

“I have to see it.” They choke out, looking back up to find their Professor still there. “If I don’t— I have to try.”

Cyrus seems to consider this for a moment, before nodding once and offering them a hand. As he pulls the wizard to their feet, he speaks at last. “Then I shall accompany you, if this is truly something you must do.” The formality reminds them of the moments after Malistaire’s death. When they had both stood shellshocked in Ambrose’s office.

If this is how it has to be.

It’s better than not knowing at all.

~*~

It’s not better, in fact, the momentary silence of teleporting to the Quetzel Grove is almost worse for the bare trace of false hope.

The wizard steps far enough out to make eye contact with Pacal.

Until a metiorite comes down between them.

And they are forced to bend, this once, to the will of Raven, and her fate.

[boneandfur]

Incantations [1]

And whosoever of them ate of the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no longer any wish to bring back word or to return, but there they were fain to abide among the Lotus-eaters, feeding on the lotus, and forgetful of their homeward way. (Homer, Odyssey)

WARNINGS: contains potentially triggering content. Rated Explicit 18+. Tagging will be in comments as i’m in a bit of a rush today. Words: 2840 // Summary: No one ever tells what becomes of common girls, after they ascend. An alternate universe that explores the links that myth and magic have to present day Cordonia. A/N: love you guys!! Thank you for being so supportive, especially @lizeboredom and @ritachacha​ and @darley1101​ and @breaumonts​

CHAPTER ONE 

"The Queen is not pregnant." The doctor delivers his verdict in the clipped, sterile tones that Riley has begun to dread and expect in equal measure. He strips the gloves from his hands, wiping them off briskly and vigorously, and she tries not to think about his fingers pushing into her, probing her aging ovaries cynically as her ankles dangle in the stirrups, laid bare for her king -- her husband, yes, but first and foremost her king -- to witness. 

As if she were being punished. 

As if what happened -- what has repeatedly happened -- is her fault alone to bear. 

Maxwell would never -- But Riley tries not to think of him.

(Not anymore. Not for a long time. Not since the last time she saw him, a thousand and one things unsaid between them.) 

"...instruct her to lie with her legs up after the act of coitus, and no sinful positions. There is only one way that the heir to our blessed country should be conceived..."

Riley thinks of the doctor's words when her thighs are spread so wide they ache and her lover is plowing her deep, cursing and grunting, the sound of their sweaty flesh slapping together in the thick darkness of the room. 

To conceive a child, you must cease your sinful ways. The queen shall lie on her back, and think of Cordonia. The king shall lift the hem of her nightdress, inserting his little king into her throne room. The subjects shall be blessed. 

The summer heat presses behind the curtains, if it comes into this room, it will blind them, their sins laid bare before all the court to see. 

All Riley can think of is how close she is, dipping a finger between her slick thighs, the bud of her clit swollen and engorged. She fists the bedsheets in one hand as his hand cups one breast, the pads of his fingertips creating a delicious friction on her nipple. She twists wildly under him, movement becoming frantic, jerky. 

"Not yet." His accent gets thick when they are abed together, it becomes something out of legend and myth, honey and myrrh, stirring the embers into a blaze that will burn down civilizations, and make a new age of men. 

•••

"Who is that absolute oaf making a mess of the canapés?" 

Lady Adelaide must be getting old, Riley thinks. She would know those broad shoulders and muscled thighs anywhere. The memory of his stubble against her breasts makes Riley dig the tips of her nails into her palm, but only for a moment. 

"There's no need to signal the staff. I will take care of it." She touches Adelaide's shoulder, brief, light, like the fanning of the death’s head moth against the cheek, and the older woman nods vaguely, already turned back to her glass of wine and Lord Rashad's slow, deliberate eye fuck. 

Riley scans the grounds for her king, out of pure habit if nothing else. Three years after the fact has made Liam a stranger, and she sees him lay two fingers on the shoulder of Kiara of Castlerellian as she laughs prettily with the ambassador of Auvernal, showing her neck. It means: She is mine. She belongs to me. 

(Once, it was Riley who was the mistress. Once, she was the one who belonged to the king, not to all Cordonia. Once, she had the world at her feet, and the love of few good men…  And now, nothing.) 

Even from this distance, Riley can see the ambassador swallow, taking a step back. His eyes avoid her direction, but she knows she will have to patch this up later, and can already feel a migraine coming on. Diplomacy was never her strong forte, even if she played the part back when she was still an imposter, a waitress who dreamed of being a queen. 

Arin, The First Courtesan of Rome. Valentina, The Sell Sword. Penelophon, The Beggar Queen. 

(No one ever tells what happens to the common girls, after they ascend.) 

"Excuse me, sir, guests must use a fork, and not their fingers. We are not all wild animals here." Riley taps the oaf on the shoulder, and squeaks in mock alarm as he drops his plate. He issues forth a roar of laughter, wrapping her in a bear hug and lifting her off her feet. 

He smells of the Aegean, blue and green and bronze as the brine in his hair. 

(Salt, and sun, and sin.) 

She sneaks a glance in Liam's direction. If he has noticed their proximity, he gives no sign. But why would he care? This man is to be trusted. 

The petals of the lotus quiver in the breeze, and sleepy dusk grows thick with the sickly sweet fragrance of the blossoms. 

•••

“I need my lips on yours when you come for me.” His voice is ragged and thick with lust, and she does not protest as he flips her over, pulling her to the edge of the bed. His cock impales her to the mattress, plunging deep inside of her, and Riley makes a strangled noise in her throat as her lover begins to thrust, her teeth pressing against his shoulder, nearly breaking the skin. 

She tastes sun and sea and salt and sin, and when she closes her eyes she hears the sonorous peal of the bells from the last time they were together, three years gone: the household draped in black, her orgasm tasting of hot copper where she'd bitten her lip to keep silent, for a queen must never, ever cry. 

(You must bear an heir of royal blood. It is for the good of the country, for we have enemies on all sides. If you cannot conceive, what good are you, except as a figurehead?) 

“You are crying.” His voice is as resonant as the caverns under the palace, where before time was time, princes and pythias alike would speak the language of the house snake, and feed it milk and honey to ensure good oracles for the reign to come. “Ah, my queen.” He pulls out, and his breathing is thick, labored: the scent of wormwood is pungent in the small room. The sides of the mattress beside her thighs sinks down as he braces his hands upon it, and he cups her by the chin to gently kiss her forehead, a mark of obeisance. 

(But she is not his sovereign. His star had already fallen before hers ever shot across the sky. Their constellations were never meant to align.) 

“It is nothing. I thought you wanted us to come like an incantation between our lips.” She feels him tense under her fingertips, stroking down the rippling abdomen, the fuzz is fair and fine from his navel to his cock, and he moans when she takes him in her mouth. 

(Sin, salt, sea, sun.) 

An incantation. 

A ritual tattoo. 

The black sails that returned the ships to the harbor after the battle had done, bearing the byre of the regent’s only heir. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” His hands fumble, they grip the bedposts. His cock quivers in her mouth, she runs the tip of her tongue up the vein in the center, then deep throats him, hard. His muscles tense, the only sound in the room is that of the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat and his rasping groans. When he comes, his fist gripping her hair, the deluge floods into her mouth like the waters of the Nile. 

Riley licks up every salty drop, the great man dropping to his knees before her with a thud that would bring the guards running if they were not all sequestered in their quarters to escape the heat of the midday sun. 

(Except Mara. But Mara will never tell. After all, it is Mara who knows her secret sins, loyal unto death like a handmaiden of old.) 

•••

“Duchess, are you always this bored at state functions, or did I arrive at a bad time?" Leo lays a finger on the side of his nose, tapping it with a wink. He is bronzed from the sun, and under his ceremonial suit his muscles bunch and ripple, the seams stretching at the shoulders. He pops a canapé into his mouth, following it with a shot of ouzo from a nearby waiter's tray. 

"It's always a time." Riley frowns as Leo passes her a shot of ouzo, clinking their glasses together. “I shouldn't be drinking --” but after a long, measured moment, she does. 

Blue eyes search her face, and her stomach roils with guilt. “I'm not.” The memory makes her head swim, and the ouzo tastes like poppy syrup, oozing down the back of her throat. 

(Only three years gone, bloody handprints on the wall, the dogs setting up a cacophony of howls for days on end, and all the things that smelled of them, of her, carted away and burnt to cinders.) 

What good are you, except as a figurehead? 

“That is very fine, especially when you think about what the two of us will get up to later.” Leo’s breath tickles her earlobe when he leans in, and the proximity of his body makes something kindle in her loins, desires she'd thought long dead and buried beyond the garden walls. “I have half a mind to snort a line of blow right off that tight little arse, right here on the lawns, but I think Regina would perish on the spot.” 

“Let us consider it done, then.” Riley smiles against Leo’s neck, so he can feel her lips move, and then takes a graceful step back. He grunts, shielding his erection with a carefully angled bottle of champagne, dripping with condensation. 

“Your Majesty, the king bids you join him for the closing address.” A servant bows before her, and she thinks she may never get used to this -- the linen dresses with finely beaded necklines, intricate enough to put an Egyptian queen to shame, the way the crowds part for her as she walks in mincing steps through the waving grass, the sudden sharp memory of a small, tiled room, painted with cracked frescoes, the oldest room in the palace. 

(There was a lemon tree, and a girl with wide eyes, bangles on her wrists and shackles on her wings. Her wings? But that can't be right.) 

Lady Riley Brooks…

The Duchess…

A figurehead…

She closes out the whispers with a Lady Di smile plastered on her face, bright as anything. Liam’s fingertips dig into her wrist, just enough. He knows. The sinking cold dread settles in her bones, and she covers it with her most brilliant, diplomatic smile. 

“Darlings, thank you for joining us.” Her kisses on the cheeks of the Auvernese and Panrian ambassadors are sweet as poppy syrup, false as plasticine. When they smile, it is at Kiara, awkward and unsure. 

“Your Highness!” One of the reporters for a local vlog, The Golden Apple, jumps up and down frantically, waving to get her attention. Riley picks her out of the crowd, a girl with short pink hair and a leather mini-dress far too on-trend for the noveau riche set. The press badge reads Eris. 

Riley mentally steels herself for the same tired question, but is unable to mask her expression for what comes instead. 

“Duchess Riley, how is the royal family handling the news about Lord Maxwell Beaumont?” 

•••

Maxwell Percival Beaumont. 

The hallway is endless. 

Riley carries her kaboodle, and Maxwell drags the vintage steamer trunk with seemingly little effort behind him. His designer trainers set up little clouds of dust off the threadbare carpet, an Aubusson which has never seen a carpet sweeper more modern than anything from 1902 (according to the girl upstairs, socialite Fenny Vandervliet, this is an actual historical fact). 

She can feel the ghosts of the pre-war building at her back, watching her leave. I'll be home soon. The words are on her tongue, but she does not dare speak what she already fears to be a lie. 

She thinks, instead, of Maxwell’s scent on the bed sheets when they woke in the morning, still tangled together. 

Bronze, parchment, and the expectations of the ancestors. 

•••

After the nightclub, she begs a headache, and Maxwell offers to share a taxi. Liam seems pretty taken with you, you know…

But when he brushes a strand of hair back from her face, she doesn't pull away. And when she offers him a nightcap, he doesn't refuse. When he lifts her hair from the back of her neck to press a kiss at the nape, all the birds in the apartment, hearing her soft sigh, begin to sing. 

He unclasps the first button on the dark green dress (abalone and gleaming pearl, borrowed from the girl who lives upstairs, the socialite with enough Old Money to buy all of New Amsterdam), and the silk rustles like the petticoats of the girl who ran away to sea with a pirate she met on the King's Highway in 1612, rapier wit and gold teeth, a pair of blackbirds the two of them. 

(But her soul whispers that this man is not the pirate, that man was another path, another chance, and he sits drowning his sorrows even now at a dive bar somewhere south of hell.)

His fingertips are warm against the bones of her spine, and his lips follow, each kiss making her gasp and grip the kitchen sink for stability, as though she might fall apart without him there to keep her steady. Years later, this memory will blacken around the edges like a beaten bronze mirror found at an archaeological dig in the Aegean, back in 1899, just as the old age began to fall into the new. She will take it out and examine it, trying to reconcile the girl she once was with the queen she has become. 

(Ah. But that is what will come, and this is now.) 

Now is this: a tangle of images and sensation. Maxwell’s fingers lacing through hers as the dress slides to the floor, his tongue in her mouth, she bites his lower lip and drags it between her teeth. The shelves rock against the wall, the train is coming through. The scent of cardamom is in the air, her hands are in his hair and his stubble scrapes against her neck. 

Maxwell’s hands move up her thighs, they both fumble with each other’s garments: her moan of dismay as she tries to maneuver his belt, his low groan as he struggles with the clasps of her bra. 

Don't bother. She stays his hands and pulls the straps down, her breasts still firm and high and tipped with dusky rose. She feels his cock hard and firm between her legs, he's lifted her up on the counter and stepped in between her thighs, pulling her forward and nudging them apart as he dips his head to take one nipple into his mouth, her cries drowned out by the sound of the train again. Somewhere, a harp is playing, somewhere, somewhere, over the rainbow.

But here and now there is only the two of them: Maxwell's fingers push aside the sodden cloth of her underthings, and she sobs his name as he plunges his fingers into her, in and out, in and out, over her clit and back inside of her until she knows she will go mad with wanting him. 

Condoms are in the bathroom, she manages to gasp out, and when he dashes off, she has a moment to study her reflection in the windowpane: a stranger is there, with red lips and tousled hair, and a face to launch a thousand ships. 

Riley. His lips brush the nape of her neck and if she kept scrying into the glass for one single second more, she might have seen his doppelgänger there, with a breastplate of beaten bronze, on his knees before his queen in a bedchamber of a palace in some place long forgot to human memory. 

They fall into the bed, his hands are on her hips as she sinks against him, their moans and sighs an incantation. 

Come back. Come back to me. 

Throw the centuries off like the dust on a handful of faience beads. Dance in his arms on a ship's deck lit by Greek Fire, roaring across a wine dark sea. Scream your lover’s name as the blood pools under the locked door that will become your tomb. 

Come to me. Come back to me. 

A funerary rite. 

A hymn to the living. 

An incantation. 

[thegreatpikminzx789]

A Gathering at Jail Rock - Etrian Odyssey Mobile Mythos - Chapter 1 - Runaway to Freedom

Wattpad|AO3

Beginning (You are here)|Next Chapter

Taking place on a remote part of Earth, somewhere vastly surrounded by the sea, with no sight of other land masses, the island known as Jail Rock, housed a tall tree within a forest surrounding a pioneer-built village. Many of the inhabitants called the mighty tree, the Forest's Jail. It is rumored that everyone that investigated the World Tree disappeared overnight, and not a single person outside the island knows why this event occurred.

A study team was formed in the village with the intention to  investigate the Yggdrasil tree. Once word spread, many people traveled from their homelands to visit Jail Rock, hoping to climb the Yggdrasil Tree there. Some adventurers dare to seek the truth, some seek wealth and honor, and some seek the fight of their lives.

Summary: A man known as Elibom ran away from home in order to find a new life that would fit him the most without his past haunting him like a disease. What kinds of people and enemies will he make along his path to a new lifestyle? What kinds of length will he go to make sure his friends are well protected under his care? And what will he think of the new lifestyle once he reaches his destination: Jail Rock?

---------------------------------------------------

AN:  Due to this being an unofficial Etrian Odyssey game with a vastly unknown amount of origin and questionable ideas, I'm going to take liberty by making things different to make sure it's more original, both in monsters and in labyrinth theming.Also because the class choices, for some ungodly reason, is using the EO1/2 classes, I'm going to expand this to have a variety of classes/races, much like Etrian Odyssey Nexus. Keeps things interesting, this way. That, and this is pretty much my first attempt at creating something based on something so obscure, so I’m going to try my best with world building.

Near the city of Etria, the morning sun had just risen in the azure sky. Its rays, shining ever so brilliant, casts itself upon the planet, as a tired, exhausted man with white hair, blue and red eyes, and seemed to be ragged to the core. He had ran for who knows how long, far from the place he had ran from...his home. Though he could potentially enter the city and rest, he much preferred to rest while heading to whatever fate took him next.

He looked back upon the land behind him, knowing that whatever transpired there will be the only thing he has left to his name, apart from his possessions and money he was able to acquire. Very, very, far from where he stood. It wasn't a popular kingdom as opposed to Etria, but when you had ran for several hundred miles away from a place you formerly called home, you start to lose track of time.

"Fuckin' hell," Elibom groaned, leaning into the shade of a nearby tree, gasping for air. "Haven't ran that fast since I was young..."

It doesn't help that the memory of what he last saw of his parents lingered in his mind... lying on their bed, unable to move, and devoid of life. The kingdom he left behind was gradually falling to an illness that had no held record of a cure. It felt...wrong.

To run away from the life expected from his parents...but he didn't like dying to a disease that no one was able to cure! But not even he knows how far it will linger in the land he left behind. He had to run...find somewhere else to hide, and never return...

Most of his kingdom expected him to rule the throne should his parents pass away. Instead, he decided to run from his responsibility. For he had dreams far better realized elsewhere than having it be wasted on ruling a kingdom which was slowly dying on the inside. To explore the world...to explore...

He checked his pockets for the money he was able to acquire from his parents' account the moment he was able to find their vault. It wasn't enough to get him some strong as hell weapon, but it was more than enough to probably get a ticket to a boat. Hopefully, he wouldn't run into anyone who has the disease from his land in whatever town he's lucky enough to find.

After regaining his breath, and taking a moment to mourn the loss of his parents to himself, he noticed a bunch of people walking on a nearby road, getting onto a carriage of sorts. Perhaps it will lead him to a town that is capable of traveling by boat. He wouldn't be able to represent himself as the prince of the land to the commoners... They could get the wrong idea.

Not like he could do something about it now. He wanted to get as far away from his kingdom, now. He gathered the strength in his legs and ran to the carriage. It was the only way he could catch up to it.

"Last call for the carriage trip to city of Niranjan! Repeat, last call for the trip to Niranjan!" The man standing beside the carriage beckoned, before accepting the cash from an approaching adventurer, standing aside so that they could enter.

Niranjan... It was far beyond the city of Etria, yet it also was harbored near the edge of the ocean. Perhaps he can get a boat and sail out of the country... Elibom panted as he approached the man, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"You alright there, good sir?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm just...exhausted..." Elibom replied, standing up straight after moving his hair aside. "H-How much is it to ride to a nearby city?"

"One hundred fifty Ental, sir." The man confidently replied. Seemed a bit cheap for anyone that wasn't rich enough to get Ental. But considering the carriage was likely filled with adventurers, he was sure that they had enough Ental with them.

He took out the money from his pocket and handed it to the man. "I'd like to head there, myself, if you please." Elibom explained, as the man counted the Ental in his hand.

"Fancy yourself an explorer, eh?" The man smirked, noticing Eli's bag on his shoulder. The prince couldn't find it in him to explain his situation well enough to another individual, so he simply nodded in response, hoping it was enough to satisfy the man's curiosity.

"Then get in the carriage, sir. It's only an hour away, so please make yourself comfortable." The carriage man motioned, as Eli didn't hesitate to go into the carriage, as he closed the door behind him, and finding an available seat where he can contemplate alone.

After a couple of seconds, the carriage began to move. The scenery before him moved on by, as he took solace in seeing off the land he would never set foot in again. The forest his family often visited was going off in the distance the further the carriage got.

And with the forest behind him, so too, did the kingdom his family expected him to rule. He wasn't quite yet free from the land he was ever-so-proclaimed to be its future king, but it'll come to him soon enough. For once...he took a deep breath and a sighed in relief.

Although...it also did no harm to look upon the other explorers that he was heading into town with. Occasionally, he would glance over to his right, seeing the other explorers converse with the other. Medics, Landsknechts, two Hexers, a War Magus... Not a lot of variety of classes to look upon.

He did notice one of the Landsknechts had pink hair, which was an unusual color for a boy to have. They also had heterochromia colored eyes, much like Eli, except the Landsknecht's eyes were yellow and purple. For some reason, the colors of the Landsknechts eyes and hair felt somewhat soothing to look at. Turning away from the landsknecht, his eyes turned to gaze a Medic reading a book, sitting far away from the other explorers. Perhaps she didn't like the noise of chatter?

Eli noted to himself that the woman had brown eyes and black hair, ending in a ponytail that she had placed on her lap. From what Elibom could glance, the book she was reading was one of myths and legends, and not the typical medical guides or books Medics would normally read daily. She, too, seemed to be by herself, away from the noise.

Well, two's a company, as they say. No way in hell he was gonna stay silent and stare off in the distance. Gotta spruce things up every once in a while!

He got up and approached the Medic, seeing her flip over to a new page of the book. "H-Hey, um, do you mind if I sit next to you?" Elibom inquired.

"As long as you aren't distracting, like the others over there." The woman responded without looking away from her book, only adjusting her glasses to prevent the sunlight from the window getting into her eyes. The prince sat down, placing his bag on the table, sighing as he sat back on the chair, removing some of his armor on his hands.

The woman had only but took a single glance at Elibom to notice how bruised and injured he had been. "Hold on a moment,  how long have you been like this without any medical attention?" She questioned, throwing the prince off guard as he turned to face her.

"U-Um," Eli began to stutter, having not realized the major bruises he had gotten when he was stumbling through thorns and concrete. "I haven't... I thought they'd heal on their own, with what limited medical knowledge I knew of..." He admitted, seeing the female medic groan and closed the book in her hands, setting it aside and grabbed his hands, bringing them towards her, scanning them and checking for any recent injury.

"Well, I'll admit, you have some medical skill, but these aren't effective in the long run..." The medic sighed, as she began unwrapping the bandages and medical tapes he had got on and started to replace them with a much better medical tape, casting some sort of healing spell on him before applying the medical tape.

Elibom stood completely still as the medic tended to his injuries. "S-Sorry for making this rough on you, miss..." The prince apologized.

"Medics are around for a damn good reason, you know." The medic adjusted her glasses, as she puts the medical tape back in her bag. "Sothym."

"Huh?"

"My name's Sothym." Sothym repeated herself, slightly annoyed about having to repeat herself. Her glare towards Elibom made him shiver a bit. She seemed quite intimidating, despite her friendly appearance minutes earlier.

"N-N-Name's Eli." Eli introduced himself after he built up the courage to speak. Sothym's glare quickly stopped as she took a bit to ponder about the name, as if it struck a familiarity with her. "Eli, hm...?"

She took a glance back at Eli, trying to get a better idea of his appearance. Apart from the hair, and earrings, hardly anything about his clothes screamed 'princely'. It seemed like he just grabbed whatever clothes fitted him for the day. But the name was quite familiar, no doubts there.

"Your clothes are quite shabby for a prince, you know?" Sothym remarked, doing her best to keep any mention of royalty to a minimum around the other explorers. Eli sighed and looked down at the table.

"I-I'm sorry... I just...something terrible happened back at home, and I-"

"Ran away to try and find freedom elsewhere?" The medic interrupted, seeing the prince nod in response. He seemed like he wanted to go more detail, but is holding back on information that he didn't want to dump onto another.

"Can't say I blame you. I once had to run a medical center in a part of my town." She began, flicking her hair aside.

"Sold medicinal soaps for a time, before I found it boring and went around to several towns, being a medic for several other medical centers and hospitals before I saved enough money to get off this damn continent."

"Medicinal soaps...?"

"Some man-made soap that, when made with the right ingredients, can cure certain properties of the human body. My parents always tried their best to make the best ones around." Sothym explained in short detail.

The black haired medic sat back against the chair she was sitting in, letting out a sigh. "Sorry, I tend to ramble on whenever it comes to a particular subject." She apologized.

"H-Hey, it's perfectly OK. We all have things that we tend to ramble on about." Eli chuckled, not minding the tirade she was going on. Sothym lets out a chuckle of her own as well.

Gods, it had been so long since he had spoken to another commoner without fussing too much about his title as a prince. People back in his home would refer to him by his title on an almost daily basis. Given his brother had left long ago, ignoring the social status of the rich, the poor, and the common folk felt...exciting, now that he is experiencing this first hand. A question sneaked into his head, attempting to get him to think of a different subject.

"So, why were you studying that book about myths and legends earlier?" The prince inquired as she looks back at the book she placed down. "Ah, well..." She began, taking a moment to take a deep breath.

"I've been interested in trying to find out the truth behind myths and legends, as far fetched as that may seem. Truth is...the myths in that book seemed to be 'real and hard earned myths and legends' about an Yggdrasil tree far from this continent. I bought it recently so I could decipher the myths behind it."

Eli had only heard about rumors of the Yggdrasil Tree that were said to be around the world. Tall trees that were said to reach about as high as the sky itself. Though to think one could be near the very continent he was born and raised on? Who'd have ever thought he could hear of such a thing once he was outside his own home?

"What's so special about this Yggdrasil, apart from the myths and legends the book tells?" The prince inquired, wanting to know a bit more about the mighty and legendary tree everyone seems to know.

"Hell if I know." Sothym shrugged. "But if there is something, I'm going to expose the truth with everything I got. And what a better place to investigate than the Yggdrasil in Jail Rock."

Jail Rock? There was so much questions going through the princes' head, he wasn't sure if he could have them all answered before the end of the day.

"I...don't know about Jail Rock. Is it some kind of place or city?" Eli pestered Sothym with another question, seeing the medic sigh. "You sure don't know much about the outside world beyond our own continent, don't you?"

That was something Eli was not afraid to admit. His parents kept wanting him to be a ruler, and that any information about an Yggdrasil, or myths or legends of any sorts never held any merit to being a long term kind. His lifestyle was much more different than his brother, who was more in line of being the next king of his former home than Eli himself.

"Well, if you must know, Jail Rock is the name of an island that houses the Yggdrasil tree this book claims to know the myths and legends of. Monsters unlike any other Yggdrasil tree has ever held within... And a mysterious rumor that I'm most curious about to confirm for myself." Sothym looked at the prince, who urged the medic to continue speaking.

"The rumor, albeit strange in nature, states, 'One day, an investigation team that had entered Jail Rock's Yggdrasil vanished one day. Anyone involved in the investigation team was also taken in the dead of night.'"

The prince gulped upon hearing the rumor that people vanished mysteriously. It sounded like a scary story his parents would tell him to get him to behave. "H-How did...how did that happen?"

"Nobody knows. That's why there's so many adventurers heading to this city to get to the boat that will take them to Jail's Rock." The medic motioned to the other explorers, who were happily content chatting away the hour until they reached their destination. "Fame...a fight against the monsters living inside the tree...or even to find the truth. Whatever their reasons are, there's no denying that this has caused the rising buzz of explorers to heed the call."

"I see..." The prince looked out the window again, then back to his bag, wondering if this could be the opportunity to be free from the burden of being the prince that abandoned his kingdom... To runaway far beyond home and live elsewhere...

"I...I want to be an explorer, Sothym." He declared, seeing her turn to him once more. "You sure you want to live in that kind of lifestyle? It won't be easy, unlike most royal people... That, and you'd need a new pair of clothes." Sothym argued.

"I want the freedom to do what I want... If I must take up arms and explore the Yggdrasil tree, then that's what I will do!" Eli spoke, a look of determination showing on his face.

Though he had little experience, he felt like this was something that could get him out of the land that was more than likely doomed to fail under his leadership. Sothym placed her hands in her pocket as a small smile formed on her face. "Alright then, Eli. If you have what it takes to lead a guild, then we gotta find some explorers willing to join our guild." Sothym began, adjusting her glasses once more, feeling it slide off a little.

"We got plenty of time before we enter town, so why don't you rest for a spell?" She suggested, estimating that only fifteen minutes had passed when she looked out the window. Eli looked out the window and settling back against the seat.

"I suppose I'll take your offer, Sothym. You'll...let me know when we're in town, right?" The prince wanted to make sure that he wasn't dozing off well past the intended time.

"Of course I will. You just seemed pretty tired, so resting is generally a better idea than wasting energy on staying awake. A good Medic can see these sorts of things far often than a rookie can."

That was more than reassuring enough for the white haired prince. He had ran for quite some time, and the weight of succumbing to sleep was getting to him now that he wasn't running as much as he was. With a yawn escaping him, he grabbed what Sothym assumed was  a medium sized cloth and placed it on himself.

Strange how he finds comfort in doing this around other people he doesn't know, but Sothym was gonna look out for him. Closing his eyes, he dozed off to sleep, hoping to rest from the tiring trek he made through his own land...

Still, it baffled the medic before him. If Eli, a supposed prince of the land, doesn't know much about the outside world, it's going to be a pain to teach him all about the things that he's unaware of... But regardless, who knows what they were going to encounter out there, and the land of Jail Rock is sure to be a mysterious land to explore for the both of them. It would probably be good to find at least one member before they get inevitably stuck on another long trip to their destination.

.................................................................

"Hey, get up. We're here."

Time flew by since Eli fell asleep, and Sothym's voice, along with shaking the runaway prince awake, nearly startled the man. Had he not caught sight of the nearly empty carriage, he most likely would've been kicked out. "S-Sorry, I-um..." Eli stuttered, quickly folding the cloth that covered him to put back into his bag.

The woman could only sigh at Eli's rush to get up. She didn't expect him to be that tired. Grabbing his bag, the two finally left the carriage. The prince looked around, taking in the sight of the city.

"Niranjan... Never thought I'd set foot in this damn city of all places... This place is notorious for being a city where living here can either be a blessing or a curse." Sothym groaned, adjusting her own bag on her shoulder alongside adjusting her glasses once more.

From what Eli could glance, she wasn't wrong. The city, while not shabby, was quite mixed, with buildings either built with such attention to detail, or buildings that have been stripped of its unique appearance. Some people were even trying to get enough money to get by with just to survive. Seeing a place like this himself, honestly worried if Jail Rock was potentially going to be like this when they get there.

"I've heard some people are more rich here than in my own land... And that they've even claimed to be adventurers, too." Eli commented.

Sothym could only assume he must have heard outside rumors about such people living here. "It's hard to tell when the rich can manipulate the weak commoners. That's why I tend to stick to my own damn business." The Medic argued, motioning for him to follow her to a clothes store.

"We have plenty of time until we have to get our tickets to get to our boat to Jail Rock." She began, looking back behind her as she saw Eli walk beside her. "Tell me, have you been experienced in using any kind of weapon?"

"My father was once a Hero among my people, so he often trained me in the ways of the sword..." Eli began to recall, sticking as close to the medic so as to not stray from her. "He also taught me some skills based around the Hero class, but we hadn't really practiced them in a while."

"Not proficient in the outside world, but proficient enough to wield a sword... What kind of family did he grow up with?" Sothym muttered to herself, shrugging it off so as to not bother him about it now.

A few seconds later, and they arrived at the clothes store. "Well, we're here. If my calculations are correct, you should have enough money inheritance to afford some clothes befitting of a Hero class. Or, just whatever doesn't make you stand out as a royal figure." She began, stopping Eli from moving before she continued from where she left of.

"Of course, if there's anything too overpriced, we aren't getting it. Those tend to indicate that one is quite rich around this city, and we don't need that type of attention on ourselves, including you. Assassins can easily distinguish their target from the public eye." Sothym added, seeing the prince nod and began to walk around the store.

Still, assassins, in a city like this? This continent was a lot more dangerous than his parents had led him to believe. Would anyone truly want to assassinate him for wearing something so pricey as clothes? Or for being a runaway? What if-

"Hey, focus, Eli. We don't have time to stand still and daydream." Sothym's voice rang in Eli's ears as he turned to her.

"S-Sorry..."

The medic can only sigh as she encouraged him to continue looking around. They wandered for several minutes before Eli's eyes gazed at a red and blue armor set for a Hero class. It was just the armor set just for him. And the price was just enough to afford. It also came with a sword and a shield as a bonus for purchasing the full set. He assumed that armory and weaponry were all just sold in one shop, so it was a pretty great deal to get.

Sothym followed Eli's gaze as she stared at the armor for a moment before looking at Eli. "Content with something that matches your eye color, huh?" She mused, seeing him nod in response.

"Yeah...the others just didn't feel right for me to wear." Eli admitted, as he began to gather the armor and taking it to the shopkeeper and exchanging the money, before heading off to a changing room. Not that Sothym didn't mind the idea, but something as easily distinct as matching eye colors felt...off, in her opinion.

Assuming the man she was going to travel with was a runaway prince, she would at least think that he'd have the idea of blending in more with the public. Then again, given her own description on how assassins worked in this city, she felt it would've been a lot harder for him to hide had he not be by her side.

Nevertheless, she waited for Eli to come out, waiting for what seemed like an eternity before the prince came out of the changing room with his new appearance. She noticed his hair was more refined than it was minutes earlier. "...Not too bad for someone who desperately wants to be an explorer." Sothym commented, seeing the prince grin in return.

"Heh, this is nothing. It's like I've become like my...father, in a...way..." Eli's cheery grin started diminishing when he began to speak about his father. Sothym was quick to notice the change in his voice real quick.

"What's wrong?"

Eli didn't respond for quite a while, even when waving her own hand in front of him didn't garner his attention. Letting out a sigh, she grabbed his hand and pinched her index finger and thumb on a part of his palm to pinch him, as he lets out a yelp of pain and retracted his hand away from the medic.

"W-W-What was that for?!" He exclaimed, thrown aback by Sothym's action.

"To get your attention, duh." She countered. "You looked distraught speaking about your father. Did something happen to the king of this land...?"

The silence that filled the air between Sothym and Eli didn't help the tension that the prince felt about revealing about. But now that he said it aloud, there's hardly a way of avoiding conversing about it in full without tabling it for another day. With a sigh, he placed his own hand on the hilt of the sword attached to his belt.

"Mom and Dad...both fell to a disease that couldn't be cured in time." He finally admitted, seeing Sothym taken aback a bit by the news. "I ran away not because of a terrible life, but because I didn't want to fall to the same disease that killed my parents." He added, his eyes gazing to the floor as some tears escaped his eyes.

The medic took a bit longer to compose herself than she normally had. "Well, no wonder everyone back at home was debating about what happened at the castle... I had ignored the news and thought they were spreading rumors again." She began, looking at Eli in the eye and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm terribly sorry for the loss that happened for you." Sothym sighed, patting Eli's shoulder to try and comfort him. "If only I was there, then maybe..."

Maybe the whole situation would've been different. Would it have been for the better, or would Sothym too, fall to the diseases' grasp? Too many thoughts ran through the princes' head that by the time he wanted to respond, both he and Sothym had noticed that there was a huge fight going on outside the store. Normally a huge fight wasn't enough to stop a public crowd, but everyone seemed to be watching the fight, as if fearing what would happen if they stepped forward.

Eli saw the pink haired Landsknecht attempting to converse with two buff-looking men who seemed more than ready to pummel down the poor Landsknecht who was trying to talk to them. "What exactly is-?" Sothym began, before seeing Eli rush out to try and stop the fighting from prolonging itself. "H-Hey, wait up!" She yelled, following after him.

"You think you could try and get some of our money while we weren't lookin', weren't ye?" The red haired tall guy growled, grinding his fists together in a threatening way. "Yeah, anyone who tries to borrow our money has to go through the boss!" The other man added, standing rather close to the landsknecht as they attempted to back away.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"There's no excuses, boy! You brought this upon ye'self!" The red haired Pugilist exclaimed, winding up for a punch, feeling his fist get charged with electricity.

"Now you'll feel the wrath of Ira's Thunder Fist!" The man named Ira yelled, as the pink-haired landsknecht looked away and tried to shield themselves from the impact of the attack.

It wasn't until the Pugilist's fist hit something metal that the landsknecht opened their eyes to see Eli standing right in front of him, guarding with the Hero's shield he bought not too long ago. The landsknecht was rather speechless... Why would he...?

"What the bloody hell?!" Ira grunted, surprised at the sudden appearance of Eli as he regained his stance from bouncing off his shield. Eli looked back at the landsknecht, once he backed off from guarding the attack.

"Are you OK?" The prince asked the landsknecht, before hearing the other guy make his way toward him and faced the tall Pugilist. "'Ey you punk with the white hair; this ain't none of your business! Buzz off!" The Pugilist with dark green hair insisted, readying himself to pummel the intervening prince for stepping into a fight that wasn't his.

Eli gripped his shield, tightly a little shaken up from trying to think of a way to peacefully resolve this. He wasn't gonna let the landsknecht get hurt, no matter what. And that was what he intended on doing.

"Not talkin' eh?" Ira proclaimed, taking the princes' silence as a declaration all on its own. "Fine, then feel our wrath, ignorant brat-!"

"Hiyaah!"

As if in sync with the Pugilists taking a couple of steps closer to Eli, two bottles which emitted black smoke struck the tall men, as they recoiled back and tried to fan away the smoke that was emitted from the bottles' impact. Eli and the landsknecht turned to see Sothym wave at them to follow her.

"Come on! We gotta run, now!" She yelled, placing the bottles of Blind Gas back in her bag.

Eli and the landsknecht looked at each other and nodded simultaneously, letting the landsknecht run towards Sothym with Eli following right behind him. People that witnessed the scene also ran or tried to mind their own business, as if they wanted nothing to do with what had happened before them.

"Sothym! Who were those two?!" Eli questioned as he caught up to Sothym.

"The Twin Pugilists: Ira and Gori. They're two Pugilists who serve the higher up everyone refuses to name aloud in Niranjan!" She explained, looking back for a split second to see if the Blind Gas still affected them. "It should take them a bit for the blind gas to wear off, so we best get out of here, quickly!"

"But what about getting more guild members?" The prince asked, seeming to be full of questions today.

"Not the time to be asking those questions, Eli!" The medic complained, wanting to focus on running before the Pugilists can recover and track them down.

From the top of the nearby building, a lone figure stood witnessed the scene before them, wearing a cloak of sorts to prevent themselves from easily being identifiable. Their eyes were locked onto Eli, running alongside Sothym and the landsknecht that he had saved, seeing them run as fast as possible, before disappearing behind several buildings that blocked the figures' sight.

"...Target acquired."

............................................................................

Eli took several deep breaths, after the group determined they weren't being followed. Sothym handed him a bottle of fresh water that she more than likely intended to drink prior to the situation. He took it and took a few sips from the bottle.

"Next time you see someone in danger, don't recklessly charge ahead, Eli. Had I not helped, you would've ended up severely wounded." The medic warned, before turning to the landsknecht and looked for injuries.

"Well, now I know not to try and pick up random Ental of the ground again..." The landsknecht sighed as they stood up from having to sit down, their voice sounding a lot more feminine than their appearance led to be.

Eli was straight up confused by the landsknecht's voice. He assumed the landsknecht was a boy, but the voice clearly didn't match their appearance.

"What were you thinking, trying to steal money from those two? That's even worse than having an assassin on your tail." Sothym glanced at the landsknecht.

"H-Hey, I didn't know that they worked for someone higher up than them! It isn't my fault for not being told ahead of time!" The landsknecht replied, being honest with how little knowledge she knew of the city.

"So, um..." Eli intervened, wanting to change the subject from the two big Pugilists. "W-What's your name?"

The landsknecht turned to look at Eli. "Ah, right... It would be best to introduce ourselves now that we're out of that mess." They chuckled, scratching their head as they took a few seconds to compose themselves.

"The name's Chimo." Chimo began. "I may look like a boy, but never underestimate one's looks! I gotta find whatever money is lying around that World Tree!"

So, Chimo was not a male, but a female... Ouch. Guess even he doesn't know some people dress differently than the norm he was expected to see.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Chimo. I'm Elibom, but you can call me Eli." The white haired prince introduced himself, shaking Chimo's hand for a few seconds.

"Sothym." Sothym simply said, hardly in the mood to explain much about herself for the time being. She wanted to be aware, in case the two Pugilists were out on the prowl for them.

There was nothing wrong with being safe than sorry, after all.

"So, what were you two up to before that escapade occurred?" Chimo inquired, wanting to know the people she ran off with. Eli scratched the back of his head as he placed a hand on his waist.

"Clothes shopping... Nothing too major..." He responded as his eyes glanced at Sothym looking around the corners and keeping an eye on anything the Pugilists might use as cover to corner them when they least expected it.

"Ah, I see." The pink haired Landsknecht sighed, placing her arms behind her head as she leaned back against a wall, standing near the prince. "I've been kind of wanting to find some people to join with, but most of the people in this city wanted money, or something else that's precious to me. And both things I'm not willing to part with."

Well, she wasn't wrong. It would've been a pain for Eli and Sothym to try and find more people in this town, considering...well, Eli himself is royalty. He's a flat out easy target, and if they learn he's rich with money, who knows what would happen next?

Seeing as Sothym wasn't involved in the conversation for the majority of the time they were standing there, Eli figured this could be a chance to have someone join them so they can form a guild. "Say," Eli began. "You wouldn't mind if you tagged along with us, would you?"

Chimo glanced up at Eli with a confused look on her face. "Y-You want me to join you?" A hope glimmered in her eyes for a moment, but then she stood her ground. "Wait...what's the catch?" She added, thinking Eli could be doing this just so spite her.

"T-There is no catch," The prince exclaimed. "Just a pure and open invitation to our upcoming guild!"

Although it wasn't an entirely fair explanation of what he was telling her, Chimo did feel that his words held some truth. Considering he DID save her from a Thunder Fist from a Pugilist that was probably gonna beat her up for merely touching Ental that wasn't hers. Honestly, being alive was a much better debt than being dead; or on the edge of it.

"Alright, I think you got yourselves a new member, sir~" She hummed, a beaming smile forming on the landsknecht's face. Eli smiled back, shaking her hand once more. That's two more to find, at least, from his prior knowledge on how guilds work.

The prince had hardly felt Sothym's pressense, as he quickly noticed her standing right next to him. "You two done with your little meet-and-greet?" The medic inquired, as both the prince and landsknecht separated their hands from the other.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Chimo, but I'm afraid Eli and I must-"

"She's coming along with us, Sothym."

"She's what now?"

Sothym blinked as she and Eli glanced at each other. "She's coming along with us; as part of our guild." Eli explained, smirking a little as he watched Sothym silently question how she wasn't hearing the conversation behind her.

She eventually lets out a sigh, seeming to discard the question she was thinking about. "Okay then, guild leader," Sothym began, wanting to get back to her prior point of discussion. "With one guild member down, we'd need at least two more to properly form a guild."

"I know two people who we can get on the guild!" Chimo chirped, as the prince glanced back at the cheery landsknecht. "You do?"

The pink haired landsknecht nodded in return. "You see, I was invited here by a friend so we can set off to explore to lands unknown, and he wanted me to try and find any potential guild members on my way over." She started, as Sothym placed her hands in her pocket as she listened to Chimo.

"He should be waiting near the ticket center, so we should head over there right away." Chimo continued, walking past Eli and Sothym. "C'mon, I'll show you the way to the ticket center!" With that, the landsknecht began to walk on ahead, as Sothym and Eli soon followed behind.

To think that had he not ran away from home, he would have not met up with these two at all. He would have likely had a damn terrible time trying to get by all on his lonesome. The prince had no idea what awaited him from the remainder of today onward...

[wizardheart83]

The Naming VS Throne of Glass Comparison, Part 4

If you don’t know what this is check my “Reading with Myth” tag, and the “Myth Reads” tag over on @longsightmyth ‘s  blog. Here we compare Chapter 6 of Throne of Glass by Sarah J Maas and Chapter 4 of The Naming by Alison Croggon.

Chapter 6, Throne of Glass

Confession, I read the other chapter for this first, and right out of gate Celaena’s dramatics are jarring after the different tone in the Naming.

Celaena complains about the cold and “the agony of wet shoes” (yes about 2 weeks ago she was in a salt mine that was so terrible people usually lasted about a month, and she was being whipped regularly. No Celaena does not seem to remember this in the face of mild-moderate discomfort ).

The prince shows them a view of the glass castle of Rifthold. Yes the castle is made of glass. Yes this is exactly as bad an idea as you’re thinking. (I mean, If you were thinking that. Idk maybe you thought it was brilliant, in which case I disagree but we’re all fine. Our friendship will not shatter like say an important structure made of a relatively fragile material.)

Celaena remembers the first time she saw it 8 years ago, when she thought it was a stupid waste, and was wearing a thing and her hair was doing nice-ish thing, and there was mud on her shoe (while traveling, shock and awe) and she was remembering that she’d killed a guy 3 days earlier.

In the present, she talks with Chaol, bragging about how she was just such a good assassin and in such high demand, she doesn’t know how she was captured, it must have been betrayal.

Apropos of nothing, Chaol asks about Endovier, or more prompts her than asks.

It was terrible, she tells him and us, they cut her hair, and put her in rags. Then they mad her mine salt and whipped her and rubbed salt she’d mined into her wounds, but the unnamed fellow prisoners (who were taken en masse and aren’t generally guilty of crimes in the way that she is) sacrificed sleep and water rations in the last and maybe worst month or so of their lives to wash her back and keep her healthy. These are the ones from the work songs in the first chapter, who were not articulate like celaena. They’re not white, guys, if you didn’t know. The Eyllwe people are brown. anyway Celeana doesn’t remember any of their names and I hate her for it.

She has a nightmare of being buried alive in a mass grave (seriously all maas had to do was name people in the grave with her? Even if Celaena wouldn’t have given Chaol their names, if she’d known them in her nightmare,  If she’d been  ‘thrown into a grave with Remaya and Umaela, who’d been so good to her and who deserved better longer lives, she’d be doomed to look on their unseeing eyes as her jailers heaped dirt on her,  ignoring her screams’ instead of just “dragged into a pile 20 bodies deep” and a  “tangle of rotting limbs” it would have been something! As it is she even objectifies the Eyllwe in death and if you can’t tell, I really do hate her for it.)

She implies that she was once destined to do something or fated or I’m still too pissed to care. There’s a section from prince Dorian’s pov that’s kind of random as he watches her watching the city after her nightmares, he thinks she’s really pretty and has to remind himself she’s meant to be dangerous and a murderer. But pretty though, and maas has a thing for stars that makes me mad for totally unrelated reasons (her other series isn’t better. Let’s leave it at that)

 Chapter 4 Battle of the Wers From The Naming

Cadvan and Maerad engage in more walking exposition, as Cadvan explains that The Landrost is a person, not human, who lives deep within the mountain and is one of the Nameless Ones’ slaves. He held Cadvan in his fastness for a time but Cadvan escaped, and now Wers, creatures of darkness who cannot attack them while the shines, pursue him and Maerad by extension. Cadvan regrets pulling Maerad into his danger. Maerad, who has seen the life and death she would have had in slavery, prefers freedom, even if it offers its own, more swift, end.

Next, we have maybe their first real argument, as Cadvan heals Maerad’s wound but tells her that he has wounds that she can’t see. She presses him for more information about that, pointing out he can trust her, and asserting that he owes her the information. He disagrees He is tired, frightened by the coming night and not in a mood to talk about his wounds while being hunted, and snarls that she’s a child and should stop bothering him her questions. She is kinda pissed. She’s 16, and very much grown up thanks, besides  He’s scryed her. He knows what she is,  but how is she to know the truth of him? Ultimately she has no reason to trust him.

They walk some more, and make peace before turning to the south, to a guard house that Cadvan knows of. They prepare for the battle by lighting fires, and Maerad gets a knife and Cadvan has a named sword (Arnost) who is put to rough use chopping firewood. Cadvan gives them what magical protection he can but soon the battle is on. There are a helluva lot of wers, of various types, Cadvan is an ass and Maerad’s fear is feeding the wers until she forces herself to master it. she helps as she can in the battle, and they survive the night. Maerad is sickened by the sight of the dead wers that she helped kill.

Through all of this Maerad’s past still matters. As she walked with Cadvan she kept feeling like she should be working, because it’s only been days since her life was something completely different. Maerad as (sorry love, but seriously) a child of 16 summers has all of the appropriate impatience and entitlement and honestly I could be tempted to worry less for her because of that. She’s not the sort to just let Cadvan brush her off, and her willingness to claim what she feels she’s owed puts them on better footing than if she were 16-going-on-10 and meek  (though of course, Cadvan is still the only person around and he’s still in charge by virtue of his age, power, and experience)

 Comparison

It might be unfair to compare Celaena’s discomfort with Maerad’s increasing existential dread as the wers draw close, but one of those things is understated and it’s definitely not Celaena’s wet shoes. I will say that her anxiety about being close to the city and the Glass Castle of Rifthold is present and works better for me than some other things in the chapter. I’ll probably come back to this as other things happen, to compare the progress of her fear with Maerad’s, but right now we lack data.

I’m struck by how much Celeana thinks of her appearance, like it’s often and not even just about her hair and clothes. She thinks that if she falls of the horse she’ll want to die, presumably because of embarrassment? I’m not sure if her softness in this respect should be treated like Maerad’s entitlement. 

The more I think about it, I’m fairly certain that it shouldn’t, because Celaena was trained as an assassin and is a little older than Maerad. Celaena should be beyond the point were a fall she couldn’t avoid because of the chains she didn’t choose to wear would make her that embarrassed. Her lack of emotional regulation is a problem because she’s meant to have so many more assets. Maerad just has her innate power, much of which is still asleep in her as she hasn’t come into the Speech. She has that, her music, and  what she’s willing to claim/what Cadvan will allow. That is all she has in the world right now, so her entitlement to his feelings, while wrong, is a sign of something useful. If she can make demands she can potentially gain resourses, if that makes sense. 

Both of them have moments where their past informs their present in these chapters. Maerad has awareness of her vulnerability and her sense that she should be doing something like cleaning or milking a cow, and even her sense of herself as an adult at 16 is a throwback (because bards live 3 times a normal span, to a bard she’s not an infant, but she’s still pretty far from grown).

Celaena had her memories and her nightmare, both of which get spoiled a bit in execution because appearance focus, selfishness, and the fact that we’re hearing about it now and didn’t just see some things)

[longsightmyth]

Sarah Janet is not the only YA author who does this and then hides behind 'oh teenagers are having sex/should know about sex' she's just the most popular.

If you're writing erotica you are writing for an audience with an assumed knowledge base. Write all the kink! Write your anatomically improbable/impossible play by play sex scenes! That is the point of erotica! And it is a laudable and important genre! Good erotica writers are AMAZING quite frankly and idk how they do it because good sex scenes are fuckin hard and I'm gonna leave that pun there.

If you're writing for YA (12-18 year olds) you aren't writing for an audience with the same assumed knowledge base. The hymen myth is damaging. The idea that your partner should know how to please you and vice versa without communication or it's not actually meant to be and maybe they're actually a bad partner is damaging. Writing sex that can't actually happen as a play-by-play scene in a book targeted towards 12-18 year olds is frankly bad.

"Myth nobody is using sarah janet books as instruction pamphlets for sex" okay but. I assume people are mostly not using romance novels as a pamphlet for sex either... and yet the hymen myth persists.

[longsightmyth]

Part of the problem with ToG is frankly the shallow worldbuilding, which I wouldn't judge as much except that everyone and their second cousin tries to sell the series as a grand sweeping fantasy. Where are the different cultural norms? Where are the different ENVIRONMENTS and how they influence how people live/interact? Different clothes? Accents? Perceptions?

Why has there been NO social change?!

Why does every government and monarchy operate EXACTLY the same way?!

Why does EVERYONE have the same legends?!

We get a little bit of different environment with the southern continent but that honestly just drives home everything else with the giant question: how did a nation of horse cavalry conquer a nation of giant bird cavalry who live in unclimbable mountains

[longsightmyth]

Myth, this is very vague and I am sorry, and I'm even sorrier for asking you to try and find a particular post on tumblr. But I vaguely remember a scene where Aelin uses her blood oath and the absolute obedience against someone in a weird, sexual way, and you made a post about it. was that real? did that happen?

Complicated!

Rowan swore the magically binding blood oath and therefore must do everything Celaena orders or die! So that's fun!

But you're probably specifically thinking of the weirdly manipulative scene from queen of shadows where she passive aggressives him into sharing a bed and then rocks up in modern lingerie On Purpose, is pretty gross about him asking her to change, and then as if it was his idea to share a bed tells him he can sleep in the tub if he doesn't like her sexy lingerie. Since he has already sworn the blood oath by then, that's even grosser imho.

Technically I don't think she gives him orders in that exact scene. But like. *gestures*

If you remind me later I will dig up the scene itself for you.

[longsightmyth]

It's one of the pettiest of gripes but the way we're supposed to pronounce 'wyrd' as in 'wyrdmarks' in tog drives me to a frothing fury

[longsightmyth]

Someone remind me in like five hours to make a compilation of all the times celaena is like I'm gonna murder these innocents/allies en masse if I don't get my way

[longsightmyth]

[longsightmyth]

It's like. Of course Aneryn thinks Renwick can be a decent dude despite Everything (TM) because she has known him since she was 5 (AND SHE LITERALLY GOT HANDED TO HIM LIKE A GIFT?!)(the northern court is fucked up)(her mom saw that her daughter's best chance was being handed to This Fae In Particular)(GUESS SHE WAS RIGHT)

Anyway he basically raised Aneryn and she has SEEN him help other people when he could and help/shield her in specific for twelve years. Aneryn is The Right Choice to give us a view that Renwick can be believed, where Random Blue Witch Number 37 Just Knowing Renwick can be a good dude would make no sense. It's a good writing choice both because it makes sense and isn't downplaying the very real horror Renwick's existence could be to literally any other blue witch [who hasn't seen him trying to do better in visions]

Though actually because he almost always has Aneryn with him and blue witches can't see each other, that means they... haven't been able to see him much.

...which also sort of means Aneryn is probably going to be around him for a very long time

...which makes sense for this genuine but deeply complicated relationship these two seem to have

Anyway my point is this: both in giving a living example of someone Renwick has had (her) lifelong power over and showing that he only used it to help, the book allows us the readers to know that he is actually very serious about it. By having Aneryn be the one to acknowledge HIS pain, we the readers can acknowledge his (horrific) backstory without having someone he has hurt have to be A Super Forgiving Mouthpiece Of Peace With The Oppressors. (though as Aneryn points out, EVERYONE in a community is hurt when you start targeting them even if some don't suffer physically)(so maybe I should say, without someone he has hurt purposefully, no matter how unwilling he may have been later)(or even in the beginning! HIS FATHER SENT HIM TO TORTURE CAMP FOR SUMMER BREAKS)

Aneryn gives us a perspective that allows us to accept that Renwick isn't an unmitigated monster. The other blue witches give us a perspective that makes us acknowledge you don't have to be an unmitigated monster to hurt people terribly.

It makes sense for Aneryn to be the softer viewpoint in a way that books that try to include this nuance often miss: she CAN be the softer viewpoint, because she has a different experience.

I'm not sure I'm making sense, it's 2:22am

But if this was a sarah janet novel we'd have good blue witches who worshipped the ground Renwick walked on because he apparently suddenly decided to stop torturing people and we'd have bad blue witches who didn't believe he was good now, the meanies.

Well okay actually in a sarah janet novel Renwick's childhood torture camp would be justified in some way and his dad and uncle retroactively trying to save the world while secretly Baba Aaru was the true evil all along because she was chill with them dying to free her people.

Don't look at me like that. That's basically the side plot of crescent city.

[longsightmyth]

sorry to bother you but i didn't know who else to ask but was it ever explained in tog how aedion (who's father is fully fae) somehow isn't considered fae at all, aka he isn't immortal and can't shapeshift, while aelin (who's parents are both human) is somehow half fae? is it because that one goddess was her ancestor?

Celaena is actually part fae on both sides: on the Galathynius end she gets it from Brannon, and presumably whenever Elena's descendant marries back into the Galathynius line (the only way for Elena to be a mutual ancestor of Celaena and Dorian) so the amount of fae blood there is minuscule but extant. Through her mother and the Ashryvers she is directly and more recently descended from Mab, who is per the text Celaena's great-grandmother (there is one line in Kingdom of Ash where Mab is suddenly a more distant grandmother, but since that makes everything make even less sense I ignore it. If you want the quotes lmk), which makes Celaena just a smidge more than 1/8 fae, plus, as you mentioned, whatever lingering godblood is in there from Mala via Elena and whichever of Elena's siblings ruled Terrasen.

On the other hand Aedion has exactly the same amount of fae blood from Mab, since his unnamed mother was Evalin's cousin and for him to have Mab's eyes he must be descended from her, making him also Mab's great-grandson. On top of what he inherited from Mab, as you said, his father was fully fae. This means that Aedion is, assuming there was no other fae intermarriage in the Ashryver's past (and it seems like we would know about it given how hot under the collar these books are re: fae), more than half fae, or, specifically, 5/8 fae.

So yeah.

(Like I said, there is room for more or less fae blood in here, but the only two different interpretations in the text mean less fae blood for Celaena and/or more for Aedion, which... *shrugs helplessly*)

[longsightmyth]

I'm curious: do you think, if R/hysand either did not exist as a character or if he was drastically changed to not have acted so abusively in ACO/TAR, that we the audience would have noticed T/amlin's red flags easier without the clear contrast of R/hysand to make him appear better?

I mean I noticed Tamlin's red flags immediately in acotar so I am perhaps not the person to ask

I think Sarah Janet's writing depends heavily on her audience not having read widely prior to reading her novels and then growing up with them. I am in fact not convinced moving them to YA wasn't a marketing tactic of her publishers even beyond the implosion of NA: younger and/or sheltered readers won't have as many books or as much life experience under their belts in order to pick these things out. As with Twilight, not seeing these things relies heavily on not understanding they are problems in the first place, OR on not realizing that the telling and the showing don't line up.

(There is another category, in which people who read, for instance, dark fantasy romance, are fully aware of the tropes and engage with them on that level, but those are not the people who *suddenly* noticed Tamlin's red flags, those are the people who are fully aware that the flags are there and part and parcel of genre convention, as I believe @bookishfeylin has discussed elsewhere, re: do we apply real world standards of behavior or work within a stated fantasy framework)

So in a roundabout way, I guess I'm saying no. I don't think without Rhysand people would have noticed Tamlin's problems easier, partly because, as many of us discussing the book have mentioned, Rhysand and Tamlin have the same red flags up until acosf, and the people who didn't see Tamlin's the first time around also don't see Rhysand's.

Also because so many of the same fans don't see the grossness in ALL the relationships in Throne of Glass.

[longsightmyth]

THE THING ABOUT SARAH JANET'S BOOKS

No well obviously there are many things about sarah janet's books

ONE PARTICULAR THING THAT GETS MY GOAT ABOUT SARAH JANET'S BOOKS

Is how she assigns blame. It's almost always wrong?! It's literally just based on whether or not it furthers the main romantic pairing, context and hypocrisy irrelevant.

[longsightmyth]

Not so pleasant reminder of how gross Lorcan and Elide's whole thing is from the get-go