#queen weira

[ror-witch]

Fear

A Weira drabble revolving around the birth of Phobos. Trigger warnings for childbirth, near infant loss, blood, and a canon accurate unhappy ending.

When the doctors tell Queen Weira she is expecting the heir to her throne. She is not surprised, nervous, but not surprised.

It was what she was made for, after all. To rule, and to provide her people with the next ruler. She has known this since she has known anything. She is Queen, her mother was Queen before her and her daughter will be the next Queen. A line unbroken since Leryn.

What she does not know, is what comes next. Everyone she knows tells her what joy will blossom in her heart as the baby grows inside her. She will glow, and not just with the Light of Meridian. It will be a beautiful timing.

But Weira calls them all liars.

(In her head, of course, for a Queen would never do that aloud.)

For in truth, everyday is a new misery. Her stomach revolts and empties without fail every morning, and sometimes afternoons, evenings as well, and despite assurances that this will eventually stop, it does not. Her limbs weaken, struggling under the growing weight she carries. Random bursts of pain strike in her muscles like lighting, and her hips ache everytime she moves, enough even when she takes to bed at night it brings her no relief.

And, of course, these miseries compile under the burden of Queenship. Because, even now, her precious daughter is not—can not be paramount. Meridian is. Her duties can not stop, no, can not even slow down, lest her world fall to ruin without her guiding Light.

Even as her belly swells with life, she is a Queen first.

Mother second.

But through it all, she never complains (well, again, never aloud). It’s what she is made for, after all, she tells herself.

She’s lost count of how many times she’s told herself that.

But in her darkest moment, she breaks with the line of Queens and whispers, “I hope you never have to go through this, little one.” Then she balks at her words, ashamed, wishing to snatch them back.

It’s what they are both made for. Her and daughter.

Her daughter. The Princess. The future Queen of Meridian. Duty comes before all. They must remember that.

Well, they were right about one thing. Through all the angony, one thing keeps her going. The thought that soon she will hold this little one, and she will gaze up at her green eyes just like her own. That is how she imagines her anyway, for her daughter never has Zaden’s lilac blue eyes in her dreams, only her own.

She often talks to her at night, when the world is quiet. And for a moment, a brief, private moment of weakness, she is not a Queen but just a mother. She tells her daughter that she hopes she finds love, not just a political match. She tells her she knows she will be a natural with her magic, not like her mother, she jokes. How beautiful she will be, the most beautiful.

Her little Princess.

She loves her more than anything already. Even though she knows she should not.

As the term draws to an end, she struggles on a name. Zaden and the Council provide their opinions, strong names, soft names, historical names, but none feels right.

They decide to wait, to see her face and gift her with a name that will suit her.

And the days grow closer to that day when Weira shall finally look upon her daughter's face. Until, one day, a day without remark save for the painful twisting of her womb and a small gush of water, she begins her arrival.

Labor, the Queen finds, is also not how it was described to her. There is pain, yes, undeniable, indescribable pain, but there is something…more bearable in it than the rest of the pregnancy. Perhaps it is simply because the end is finally in sight. They say many find resolve at the end of a marathon and so it is with her. The worst part is quite honestly all the attendants flustering about in a panic. Weira can not abide such hysteria under ideal circumstances, and now she finds it nigh unbearable. If she possessed any clue of what she was doing without them, she would have sent them away.

Indeed, when the time comes to bear down and push, a time when, at least so she was told, many women lose their nerve, Weira feels like she is finally handed back the reins of this pregnancy.

And then the horse reared.

Her daughter arrives with one long, hard, final push. The world spins and fills with a hazy light. The relief she feels is borderline delirium, stronger than anything she has felt to this point.

Then another even stronger, more primal urge rocks her.

Where is my baby?

There is nothing but silence in the air.

She anxiously pushes aside her bangs, sticky with sweat, to look past her. The attendants are huddled around their leader, who holds a small, unmoving bundle.

The terror she feels at the sight manifests as a crack in the air, and a rumble of thunder on an otherwise sunny day.

“What is wrong with her?”

Her voice breaks and trembles as it has never done before. Zaden grabs her shoulders for support, but she does not even realize he’s there. There is silence for an unbearable moment and then the one holding her baby seems to find her words.

“The babe is fine, Your Majesty, it is only…”

The lead attendant wets her lips, but does not bother delay, fearing the Queen's magic will act without intention once more.

“The babe is a boy, your Majesty.”

Her husband gasps. The other attendants look at the ground, ashamed for her.

Weira doesn’t feel any surprise, any shame—just that need. The need to hold that which is being withheld from her.

There in the birthing bed she is a mother; not a Queen.

Her first mistake.

“Just give me my baby!” She snarls, her magic snaps again and the baby is all but tossed into her arms.

She—he, lands with a soft plop, still silent, but awake. Beautifully awake. He looks up at her with green eyes exactly like her own. Tiny and perfect and more wonderful than anything in the entire universe. She is his everything, and he is hers. And in that moment, that single breath, everything is perfect and right. Gender be damned. Everything else be damned.

Then the moment was broken.

Again, the baby is snatched from her, and before she can even demand an explanation or protest, there is a sea of red flooding out from her.

She doesn’t remember much about what happens after. It takes a few hours before she comes back. She remembers bits and pieces—pain, crying, and blood.

So much blood.

But she is alive, and that is all that matters.

Until it isn’t.

The hemorrhage leaves her weak, drained. She can barely lift her arms, she feels like she’s fighting against tar just to lift her head. She holds out her shaking arms for her precious baby but her attendants share uneasy looks. She orders them to give him to her anyway.

He feels as heavy as brick now, almost too heavy. She struggles to hold him. But he just stares up at her with those beautiful green eyes and she somehow finds the strength. If only for a few moments at a time. The rest of the time he sits in his bassinet next to her, quietly watching her. Only when Zaden finally dares to hold him does he squirm and fuss, and Weira shrieks at her trembling husband to return him to her at once.

The attendant’s note her weakness, and they, more experienced than her, offer solutions.

And Weira hates them for it.

“Perhaps we might find a wet nurse for the…Prince, your Majesty?”

“No!” Weira all but snarls; as feral as the Beasts that still haunt her land. The Light of Meridian does not pawn off her child to another. She is all nourishing, all giving—life itself, as her mother told her.

Only her body has not received that message. It’s weak and selfish, too busy making blood to restore her, rather than milk to feed her baby. He tries, he’s good—so good, and he tries and tries, quietly and gently for nearly a day of her own stubbornness until his body betrays him too and the hunger cries start.

And then they never stop.

Guilt gnawing at her raw bones, Weira finally hands him over. The wet nurse comes, and while disappointment still hangs heavy, she tries to ignore it, for at least her beloved baby will eat now. That is far more important than her pride.

But he doesn’t.

His hunger cries change into full throated cries of terror, as the wet nurse picks him up, and he scratches at her breast with his tiny little fingers and pushes away, refusing her.

This goes on for an entire day.

Zaden, who she would never have considered unkind or obtuse until that moment, says, without thought,

“It seems he just wants you, my love.”

She screams at him till they are both pale in the face, and tears are falling from their eyes.

When they set him back in her arms, the crying only lessens. He is starving and Weira can not help him. She who sustains an entire world can not provide for her own blood. Her beloved boy who looks up at her with tear filled eyes and soft cries and wonders why his world is not giving him what he needs.

The Council comes later that same day, as is tradition, unaware of the developments, to wish her congratulations on the birth of the Princess.

Their congratulations die on their lips when the truth is revealed.

There has never been a first-born Prince until now. Whether through some nefarious design or a magic she simply did not know, every first child born of the reigning Queen has been a girl. Until her.

She has broken the line of Queens.

And it is all anyone cares about.

Not her baby who cries are starting to quiet, the red gone from his cheeks, tears are no longer being produced in his eyes.

He’s dying.

Her baby is dying.

That is all Weira cares about.

The Council, Zaden, and her attendants try to comfort her in the only way they know how.

“Perhaps, it is for the best, your Majesty. This baby, after all, is no Princess.”

“We can try again, my love.”

“A baby that will die of stubbornness like that would never thrive, your Majesty. Best we worry about you for now.”

They want to take him away, so she does not have to see what comes next. Weira panics, and buries her face into his tiny body. Will they slit his throat to ease his passing? Bludgeon his head like a rabbit? Smother him? Or will they let him suffer alone and scared, wanting only to feel the warmth of the mother who has failed him till blackness takes him?

When come to take him, she refuses, and they protest,

but she is still Queen, and her word is law.

The baby stays.

Everyone else leaves.

Weira has a plan. It is not a good plan. But she doesn’t care.

Her studies have told her that certain magic can sustain a person more than any food. The lifeblood blood of a planet or a person, or…a heart. Like the Light of Meridian. The birthright that would’ve been his had he been born a female. To allow a male child to interact with the holy magic of the Escanor line is forbidden. The consequences are unknown—but probably not good. Forbidden things are forbidden for a reason.

Weira doesn’t care.

The Weira of two days ago would be aghast with her for even thinking of it. But the Weira who has seized her now only cares about one thing.

He feels like a corpse already in her shaking arms, cold, unmoving, small—so small. Only his eyes, watching her intently give any sign of life.

She pushes aside his swaddle and presses her hand against his tiny chest, his heart beating faintly under palm.

How much, she wonders. She has the power of a sun churning in her veins, what if she burns him? Just a drop? A river?

Then she throws caution to the wind.

And Queen Weira does the unthinkable.

“Take it little one, take it please! Just live. Live.”

Her magic crosses over him like the warmth of the sun on his parlor skin. And he responds instantly. Color returns to his face, and he squirms and wiggles. He can not smile yet, but his face looks so cheerful Weira worries she might melt.

There is an hour, just an hour, where everything is right. She holds her baby, and they simply stare at each other. They are happy. She imagines a world where he grows up, knowing she loved him more than anything. A world where they place a golden crown on his head after she places her last kiss on his forehead.

But as he slips into the sweet escape of sleep, Weira is confronted for her actions.

It is oblivious to anyone with even a rudimentary understanding of magic what she has done. The golden hue of her magic still lies upon his skin, and the air smells of petrichor and roses.

The Council panics, reprimanding her with words so harsh, it is as if they have forgotten she is the Queen. Her attendants hang their heads, and even Zaden looks at her as if he can not believe what she has done, who she even is.

And it is not just anger on their faces, no, it is fear.

Fear that the Heart will be forever corrupted. That their world will die, blackened and withered beyond repair. Weira wants to scream at them that it's just a foul superstition.

But who is to say that it’s not the truth?

Doubt begins to darken her clouded mind. The Queens had never allowed a King before. Surely, there was a reason. What did they know but did not share? What had she done?

Doomed her world? For her own selfish desires? Because she could not-would not remove herself from a hopeless situation?

She begins to understands why Weira the Queen can never be Weira the Mother.

Because Weira the Mother will throw away everything Weira the Queen, and Leryn the Queen, and every Queen in between them has built for her child. And, in this world, that simply can not happen. This world where so many more depend on her, and her alone, she can not weigh one life against them all.

However precious that life is.

And so with one last look into those green eyes, she shakily hands him to the wet nurse. His screams start again, but she orders the wet nurse to take him away with a quivering voice. She covers her ears with her hands as they take him down the hallway.

She tells herself he is of her blood, he will understand why she must do this.

(She hopes he does.)

It was the last time she held her little Prince.

She’s failed as a mother, and she’s failed as a Queen. And so in a world where she can not be both, she chooses to be Weira the Queen, the Queen who so many depend upon.

Later, when they ask what the Prince’s name shall be, all she can think of is the fear on her Council's faces.

The fear that caused her to save his life.

The fear in his screams when she handed him away.

Her fear that made her push him away.

The answer comes without thought.

“Phobos.”

——————

Phobos and Weira are, in my headcanon, two people characterized by their extremes—the very definition of “all or nothing.” Unyielding, and just terrible with emotions. But Weira just focuses it differently, doing what is expected of her even if it destroys her. Whereas Phobos will always choose the selfish option, even if it destroys everyone else

[rinfarts]

I answer on behalf of Prince Phobos in "W.I.T.C.H" ask. I'll try to show you the answer with him. English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes. Please be understanding.

(Part 1 of 2)

Q: Phobos, do you remember when your magic first manifested itself? Tell us Q: So what actually happened to your parents?

Answer: 1) Magic? It was enchanting. It was as if I was born blind, and at that moment I received my sight. And I saw the world in all its splendor. 2) True, it was somewhat... destructive. 3) Mother didn’t appreciate it.

/The answer turned out to be large, I had to divide it into two parts. Therefore, specifically in this post there is little information about parents. Don't be alarmed, it's meant to be ;) 

[reizerisanoingsstuff]

You might've seen a lot of artists who joined w.i.t.c.h ask on the side lately , well .. I'm no difference or better than they :в

☀️Say hello to Queen Weira! ☀️

I did this mostly because I'm really fascinated by her character and my interpretation of it but there won't really be a chance for me to give her a whole special or side story in my Homecoming timeline but this seems to be a good opportunity to do so and also shine some alternative light to Weira character in fandom eyes

I will be posting some answers I've done so far , plus those I will be doing in the future

Hope you enjoy ✨

[sleepyphobos]

Flashbacks from Phobos childhood.

[poltorytvari]

Concept-redesign of Queen Weira herself!!! Watched w.i.t.c.h too many times in my life and I LOVE IT

.......but much more I love my maladaptive daydreaming 🤡🍻

Her colors are ✨gold✨ and also deep vibrant red

One day I'll be able to make a few fan comics of my w.i.t.c.h AU 😩

went hard on this one and I can't see the result.... as usual ya know

[i-plague-eater]

The theme of the next prompt is AU, and it's my comic In Breach AU.

Judging by Cedric's reaction, in the canon comic he first sees Phobos somewhere in the middle of the first arc. In my AU, Cedric became Phobos' page about a month before the rebellion against the queen. Although he tells Vathek that the whisperers/murmures ‘grow on their own’, Phobos was actually creating them from living slaves and criminals, something Cedric was strictly forbidden to tell others about.

Phobos took living and breathing flesh and cross-bred it with plant tissue until it was fully transmuted into a plant. Then he would rewire their brains. This was no problem for him: in his understanding, galhots were not Escanors, but rather talking animals, and this gave him carte blanche for any experiments. The result were biorobots with no self-consciousness and no will, but capable of performing some simple tasks and limited self-learning. The first whisperers lacked even facial expressions and sometimes part of their limbs. Their mouths, noses, and eyes occasionally leaked juice. Weira was horrified by these living dolls, especially since they were so similar to her son and spoke with his voice.

The transmutation is a long process, so the whisperers were maturing in giant flower buds hanging in Phobos's greenhouse like ripe fruit. Quite often the transmutation process failed, causing physical deformities and/or death. In this case a Prince would perform an autopsy to understand the cause of this failure and he insisted on Cedric's assistance because the boy was much faster and smarter than whisperers. Phobos was 16 at the time and hadn't yet reached the Caleb level. Although Cedric was fairly certain that the specimens were dead, it often seemed to him that they were still breathing or looking at him while the Prince was digging in their entrails.

I guess I'll pass several next prompts and make another art with Cedric in my AU :P

[phoboseskanor]

Family portrait of Escanors

family portrait of Escanors with little Phobos, Queen Weira and Prince Consort Zeiden, a couple of years before Elion was born

vk: Emerald Rabbit

[xydolikestheescanors]

In fanfiction, I often see people pointing out that if only the Escanor siblings grew up together, there wouldn’t be a great conflict between them such as both in the comics and the series. Here is my AU for the series verse about Escanor siblings growing and ruling together as a result of Elyon's kidnapping being prevented (multiple times).

(Important note: Phobos doesn't kill Weira and Zayden; instead, it is Nerissa’s doing)

So, having prevented Elyon's kidnapping attempt by Aliborn and Miriadel after Weira and Zayden’s deaths, Phobos and Cedric would influence her whole world view by simply being there all the way throughout the future queen’s childhood. Despite Phobos initially hating and planning to get rid of his baby sister by any means possible, she would live along with him, saved by Cedric talking sense into the prince in the moment of his weakness right after their parents’ passing. Cedric's reasoning being that the Heart’s death would damage their world and set the vulnerable civilians and nobles against the prince would be enough to allow Elyon to live and grow to be a ruler… along with her brother. Raised with no clear role models aside from her older brother (with Weira and Zayden being hated by both Phobos and Cedric), Elyon would make a manipulative individual constantly passing as her brother’s nicer opposite (which, considering his snappish and sociopathic tendencies, would not be too hard at first) even wearing light colored dresses to his dark colored robes. Despite being favored by nobles and other metamoorians for both being a girl and a pretty naive-looking princess, Elyon would pronounce Phobos as King the day of her coronation as Queen.

In terms of this AU, I see the royal siblings’ dynamic as borderline codependent. After preventing kidnapping attempts, looking like assasination attempts in the times of civil war being caused by Weira’s murder, Phobos would eventually grow attached to his baby sister. Her only family, he would make a possessive kind of older brother, seeing Elyon as this creature he deeply cares about because she belongs to him and him only, a spit to his late mother’s face.

That being said, together the two form an absolute magical powerhouse with Phobos’ ambitions to conquer the universe and Elyon being the Heart of Meridian and, seemingly, a sweetheart, when in reality she is just as ambitious as her brother.

I’m contemplating whether or not Kandrakar’s Veil would be raised AFTER Elyon and Phobos’ coronation and their conquests of other worlds. An idea of Phobos conquering Kandrakar first has its fleur because that would grant him the Heart of Kandrakar and, in turn, not only make him powerful but also give the new King a pretty pair of wings. I like imagining the series Phobos with wings as well as his tattoos of horns, making him a little more… evolved.

Introverted and extremely knowledgeable of magical theory, idealist Phobos would be the strategist while more extroverted Elyon with her enormous magical power would make a tactician and a diplomat if that makes sense.

“You are smarter, my dear brother, but I'm more rational.”

(Btw they would totally use vocatives such as “my dear/sweet/kind (sarcastically) sister” and “my dear/wise/kind (equally sarcastically) brother” for each other)

Also, since Phobos would be the one selecting those allowed to interact with his sister, she would totally have Miranda for an advisor and best (aside from Phobos himself and Cedric) friend. Both cunning and witty, they would cause mayhem; in the castle (before Elyon becoming the queen) and on the battlefield (after).

As a side note, part of Phobos’ heritage to Elyon is being gay. In terms of this AU, Elyon/Miranda is just a tiny bit healthier than Phobos/Cedric.

Aesthetically speaking, a quarrel between the Escanor siblings would look like black and white roses, created by their magic around the two, trying to push down one another.

Oh, and the throne room with two thrones is divided into two sections: all gothic and black and all gothic and white. I'm not sure what their castle looks like yet.

Bonus:

“In our family, one has to at least appear emotionally available and the other is always Phobos.”

Also

“One has to be able to express their thoughts through words properly and the other is Phobos.”

(Phobos is bad with both words of encouragement and feelings so occasionally, during Elyon’s childhood, he makes flower crowns for her to show that he likes her)

And, lastly, an amazing comforting life hack Elyon learned very early: tell a distressed person to imagine a world clear of all irritating creatures and blinding sunlight and, instead, full of flowers of the best color ever. Black, that is. Also, the flowers have thorns and are dangerous. This is the ultimate xanadu lol

[mikeilo-fanarts]

Princess Weira soon to be engaged or just playing with a magical ring idk I needed an excuse to make a spirling lil animation.

[incorrectwitch]

Elyon, after sparing Phobos' life: I just don't think our mother would like her children to be murdering eachother.

Weira, from the afterlife: kill him

[everything-witch-aesthetic]

Character Aesthetic  Queen Weira

[comic-clothes]

[rinfarts]

(Part 2 of 2) Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/rinfarts/729142888478457856/i-answer-on-behalf-of-prince-phobos-in-witch

Q: Phobos, do you remember when your magic first manifested itself? Tell us Q: So what actually happened to your parents?

Answer: 1) After acquiring magical powers, I had to study for a long time. 2) In fact, the first burst of magic is almost impossible to control. It’s even surprising that the sister, with her huge reserve of mana... 3) managed not to create 4) some kind of disaster

P.S. Parents are alive. Elyon's magic only turned them into stone and teleported them to the ice caves of Torus Hilm. Monarchs can be de-enchanted. But to do this, you need to find the statue and understand what exactly caused the transformation.

Attempts to locate Weira and Zeiden as missing persons, living or dead, lead nowhere. Search spells and potions malfunction, producing unintelligible answers. The Stone of Threbe, alas, was found at the moment when the prince had no time for his parents.

In the series and comics there is no direct answer to what happened to them. So this is just my headcanon.

(text may not be entirely accurate due to translation difficulties)

[reizerisanoingsstuff]

I had a very Weira-centric day

I love hearing people headcanons about her and can't help to agree that she wasn't the best mother for both of her children

But simultaneously i have this younger version of her in my head, before Elyon before even Phobos , where she was brought up to be little princess with perfect life and powerful kingdom. No politics no actual contact with her people

And even after Phobos was born , she didn't care enough to have " propper" hair for the next 14 years at least , she was just a person so much further from any Meridian costoms we can imagine

[transformers0]

Princess Elyon and her mother, Queen Weira.

[zarahxan]

Day 6 - Favorite Cover

There were a lot of good covers in the comic’s 12th issue Challenge Of Phobos, but I ultimately had to go with the one where Elyon is embracing her Queen Mother.

Despite not knowing anything about her, Elyon’s always expressed a very emotional reaction to seeing her birth mother throughout the Meridian arc. And of course, Miriadel will always be her Mother—as in, the one who raised and loved her and the one Ely will always turn to. It’s just nice to see that she also realizes that she seems to have another parent watching over her and seemingly supporting her.

The atmosphere of the art, is warm and comforting. Elyon reaches out to embrace her mother in tears. It almost looks like a reunion of sorts. At this moment when she challenges her brother, Elyon can’t reach out to any of her friends or her parents. She’s on her own. After Phobos tricks her and knocks her out, she sees her mother—shining brightly—in the darkness. She manages to have another talk with her after which Taranee mentally reaches out to just in time.

Either way, as I do with my other WITCHversary posts, I made my own version of the cover art. I took the liberty of tweaking the designs so that they weren’t too similar. (The versions of Ely’s mother in my own art is actually my own rendition of her—and while most know her as ‘Weira’, I call her Erika—also yeh, she’s wearing armor.)

(On a side note: I kinda like how it also looks like there’s a golden light radiating around Ely’s Mom. It’s like it’s showing how she seems to be Ely’s spark of hope and also noting a sense of....idealistic point of view of Elyon’s mother in general....or maybe I’m reading too much into it. XD)