#something about calling a powerful woman king just makes me go absolutely feral

[harrowharksoup]

King.

King, Florence + The Machine

King Valkyrie, Thor: Love and Thunder

King Coronabeth, As Yet Unsent

[secret-engima]

Tomorrow is looking up to be - absolutely terrible. Can I beg you for some RWBY or FFXV snippets, please?

Of course! I know it is the "tomorrow" you speak of but lemme see what I can dig up-

Team Gremlin:

There was silence for a long, long time. Nothing but Ruby’s sobbing and Yang’s pounding heart and the fear that pressed down on them from all around. Formless, but not nameless. Then she heard the stairs creak and for one moment Yang was sure that “Salem” was coming upstairs to get Ruby.

But then the door opened and Yang saw Dad’s boots, “Girls? It’s okay. Come on out.” Yang didn’t move, Ruby just sobbed a little louder and clung tighter to her. Dad sighed and bent down to peer at them, “You heard all that didn’t you.” He looked … not mad, but stressed. Maybe scared, and that made the fear worse for Yang. Yang clung to Ruby, her precious baby sister with silver eyes that no monster should be able to get to, and nodded. Dad’s face pinched, then he gave a smile that even she could tell was fake, “Come on out, girls. It’s okay. I promise. That was all just- that was adult talk okay? You don’t need to worry about that until you’re older-.”

“Ruby’s eyes,” Yang bit out, “R-ruby has Mom’s e-eyes.”

“It’s okay, Yang, Ruby, I promise. We’ll take care of it-.”

A creak of wood behind Dad and he frowned before straightening up and turning to face whoever was there, “I’ll be down in a minute, just let me-.”

“Taiyang,” Professor Ozpin sounded weirdly calm, more calm than Dad did, “may I speak to them?”

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

A sigh, “I am well aware of your opinion on this matter, Taiyang, and I respect it. But they have already heard enough to be terrified. Telling them to forget it now is not only impossible but potentially worse than talking to them. You made your stance on this matter very clear, but that does not apply to your children if it will put them in danger.” Professor Ozpin’s voice softened, “Either I speak with them or Qrow does, but please. Let one of us help.”

Dad didn’t move for a long time, then his boots made for the door, “Fine. But don’t drag them into this more than you have to.” A deep breath, “Girls? I’m going downstairs to check on your mother, if you need anything, just shout, okay? Professor Ozpin is going to talk to you for a little bit. He’ll be very nice.” The last bit was said in the same voice he used when warning Zwei not to dig holes in the yard.

Dad’s boots disappeared and fancy black shoes came closer. There was a pause, then, “Would you prefer to stay under the bed?” Ruby whined and Yang glared without a word. She didn’t know what was going on, but Dad seemed mad at Professor Ozpin and everything was scary and so yes, she wanted to stay under the bed. The tip of his fancy cane tapped the floorboards a few times, then there was a hiss and a whirr of gears like from her parents’ gear and the tip disappeared. With a grunt, he knelt down and then lay down on his stomach like even Mom rarely did. He pillowed his chin on his crossed arms and it was so strange seeing a fancy, famous person lying on his belly on the floor of Ruby’s room that Yang snorted despite herself.

Professor Ozpin’s face crinkled into a faint smile and it looked real and warm, “Hello there. You must be Yang and Ruby. I am Professor Ozpin, I’m a friend of your uncle and your mother. Can I safely assume you heard the most important parts of that conversation? The Grimm and the silver eyes and,” the briefest hesitation, “Salem?”

Ruby finally pulled her face away from Yang’s shoulder to whimper, “I-is she gonna take Mom away and m-make her a Grimm? Is she gonna t-take me?”

“Ah. You have silver eyes,” Professor Ozpin murmured, then his face fell back into that faint, warm smile, “Your mother is alright now, and now that we know what is going on, we will be much more careful. I promise, I will do everything in my power to keep your mother and you safe. But to do that … I would like to tell you a story, and you must both promise me to never tell it to anyone. For the safety of you and your mother.” They nodded, hesitantly, even though Yang certainly didn’t want to hear anymore scary things today. But if it would help keep Ruby and Mom safe-.

Professor Ozpin’s smile faded, but his eyes were still warm, “Once upon a time,” he began, and they listened intently as the man with white hair slowly outlined a story that sounded right out of a fairy tail.

...

Always I Dreamed verse:

Summer had no idea what Professor Ozpin had been thinking, making her the leader of Team STRQ. Then again, the only other real option would have been Taiyang, and as much as she enjoyed his company and was coming to think of him as a good friend and teammate, he wouldn’t have been able to handle the Branwen twins.

Not that Summer was much better at handling the Branwen twins.

They hadn’t done anything to get the team in trouble, but she didn’t know how to deal with them. Taiyang made sense, even if he had a few oddly adorable hangups on things like “modesty” —they were two guys and two girls living in the same room, she didn’t really see what modesty had to do with anything when they weren’t out in public—. Taiyang understood her when she tried to … bond with the team, tried to get them to be more than just four strangers living under the same roof and tackling the same assignments in class. Raven and Qrow on the other hand…

Every time she suggested a group activity, they watched her like she was going to bite. Like they couldn’t fathom the point of learning more about or bonding with anyone outside themselves. Taiyang had suggested it was an out of kingdom thing, but Summer had lived outside the kingdoms until five years ago, and she had never acted like that. Her family hadn’t either. That feral behavior, wary distrust and eerie staring in the middle of the night like even the room wasn’t safe to sleep in without a watch wasn’t anything like what Summer and her family or neighbors had grown up with. The only ones who had acted even similar had been-.

Oh.

Now that’s an idea.

...

Blood of My Blood verse:

The next one was a whole month after Grandma Crepera had first appeared and only a week after the scary man with the mace, but three times was enough for Dionysus to be able to immediately tell what was happening when he blinked his way to awareness in a dream. He looked around uneasily, afraid of being yelled at by someone again, but … there was no one scary nearby. He was in a small little building inside a big, unfamiliar garden. The building was just a roof and little pillars holding it up and a stone floor to stand on with a little table inside and-.

A woman.

She was sitting at the table, working on something, but instead of it being paperwork like Grandpa or taking care of a sword like Uncle Cor, she was … spinning mud? She was making mud spin and pulling at it with her hands, changing its shape with her fingers, and Dionysus hadn’t realized he’d drifted into the gazebo to watch her in awe until she glanced up from her work and smiled at him. She went back to watching her mud, and when she spoke, her voice wasn’t echoing and scary, “Hello. Would you like to join me? I have enough for both of us to use if you like.”

Dionysus watched the spinning-spinning-spinning in awe, but shook his head and tucked his hands behind his back, “Iggy says I can’t play in the mud cause I’ll get dirty an’ it’s unb- unbe- bad for a prince.” He blinked up at her, “How come you’re playing in the mud? Iggy says old people don’ like mud.”

The spinning slowed to a stop as she stared at him and he wondered if she was going to get mad. But then she started laughing, an old, deep sound that felt nice, all the way to his bones, “This is not mud, Cheeky Prince, this is clay. People use it to make things like mugs and teapots and vases. Come, come sit and I will show you how.” She waved her muddy hand and set down a chair next to hers in a flash of magical rosy-blue sparks. So she was family, just like the last ones had been. Dionysus hadn’t known he had so much family before. Then again, he was pretty sure they were all dead, and that’s why they were talking to him in dreams rather than when he was awake —and a part of him wondered if that should scare him, but it didn’t, so as long as they didn’t act scary, he didn’t bother trying—.

Dionysus climbed onto the chair and watched her in curiosity. It still looked a lot like mud to him, but it was a different color from mud, so he supposed it could be something else. The woman was spinning her clay again, fingers deftly shaping and pinching and rubbing, “My name is Nyssia, though some once called me the Just.”

Dionysus thought of the Hall of Arts and all the pictures and statues in it, including some of Grandma Crepera, and wondered if she was one of the pictures in the Hall, “Just like Grandma Crepera?”

An amused twitch of her lips, “Yes, I am like Crepera. We are both related to you, but we are older than King Regis.”

He tilted his head, partially mesmerized by what she was doing with the spinning clay, but curious despite himself about other things. She was like Grandma Crepera and the others, but she hadn’t used a scary voice at all, “How come?”

She hummed without looking away from her work, “How come what, Cheeky Prince? I cannot read your mind.”

Dionysus pouted at her, because wasn’t it obvious what he was asking? But then he said, “You don’ have a scary voice like they do.”

Now she did glance up at him with a look like Grandpa had when he said something silly, “Oh, don’t I?” Dionysus jolted in his seat, startled, but not … scared. Her voice had echoed just now, deep and layered like when Grandma Crepera or Leon had spoken, but it didn’t make him feel like he needed to go hide. It reminded him oddly of the big, booming bells that hung from old church in his favorite movie, loud but mellow. He kind of liked it, but he was still glad when her voice went back to normal as she shrugged, “I merely thought you would not like it if I used that voice. So I did not.”

[straight-outta-kaer-morhen]

Scars <Eskel Soulmate AU>

Request from AO3: "Could you so an Eskel/reader with a soulmate AU? Maybe where soulmates have the same scars. Pretty please?"

Sorry it took so long. This fic has been sitting finished for several months, but I couldn't decide if I liked it enough to post. I've never done a soulmate AU, so this was a fun challenge! Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :D

As always, requests are open

Her claws wracked the side of his face. He'd been trying to avoid this meeting, but fate seemed to always have it's way. He was a fool for invoking the law of surprise all those years ago, and an even bigger fool for running from fate.

Looking up at the young girl, he had nothing in his heart but hate. The way she glowered at him he had no doubts she returned his sentiments.

• •• • A cry escaped her as flesh tore. Her hands shot out to grab her cheek. Blood ran freely down her jaw covering her neck. Horrified at the sight of crimson she helplessly tried to staunch the blood flow. The mage in front of her had his back pressed against the wall. Nothing but horror filled his eyes. This was not how the negotiations with Kaedwen were supposed to go. By the look on his face he hadn't attacked her, or cursed her. He fled the room as the pain seared across her cheek.

At some point she recalled being taken to a nurse for treatment, who was only able to bandage the wound, and send the sorceress on her way.

None of the healers could speed up the process of healing. The wound seemed to be healing on its own time. When it finally did heal, she was left with several jagged scars that even ran down her lips. When she looked in the mirror she was horrified by what she saw.

She seeked out Yennefer of Vengerberg’s powers. If anyone could heal the scars it was her. Very few were close to equal with Yennefer’s abilities.

"I cannot fix this." Yennefer declared, her eyes filling with pity. "This is the mark of a soulmate...and nothing can change fate."

"You were so beautiful." Kiera Metz's voice came softly. Y/N could not fathom the pity filled look she received. Her reflection showed several claw mark's adorned her face. They were raised and red.

Beauty wasn't everything she tried to tell herself, but she knew finding a lover would be impossible. Even her so-called soulmate would want nothing to do with her.

Yennefer gripped her shoulder, "beauty isn't everything."

• •• • "What happened to her?" Geralt inquired, his cat eyes falling on the familiar scars that adorned her face.

"It's a sad story." Triss sighed. "She used to have a beautiful face." Triss began, "the kind of face that makes king's launch wars over."

"Prettier than Yen?"

Triss nodded, "she had a softness, a warmth that Yennefer lacked. It drove men absolutely mad." She mused. "One day during negotiations, her face just tore open. It was the damndest thing."

"When?" Geralt inquired, observing the (h/c).

Triss tapped her chin recounting the years, "it had to have been about 20 years ago...give or take a few years."

"Hmmm." Geralt said, catching the woman's (e/c) eyes. She offered him a soft smile from across the room. He gave her a nod, his eyes tracing the scars that lined her lip. They were uncanny to Eskel's.

"No mage or sorceress could heal her." Triss added. "Apparently soulmate scars work differently, it's a power we know little of."

"Soulmate scars? I thought that was an old wives tale." Geralt asked, startled.

"So did I, but the circumstances of how she acquired them...well there is no other explanation for it." She said with a shrug as she took a sip of wine. "I spoke with the mage that witnessed it. His account was hard to discredit."

"The amount of scars a Witcher acquires, well it's hard to put much stock in the idea." Geralt said, taking another drink of his ale.

Triss waved the woman over, "whatever man acquired those, it must have been hell for him from what Y/N described."

"Y/N, this is Geralt." Triss introduced, "he's taken an interest in your scars." She said leaving the two to get acquainted

Her hand immediately shot up to her face covering the scars. "Forgive me for prying," Geralt began, "I have a friend who has similar scars."

Y/N's eyebrows raised, "is he a Witcher too?"

Geralt nodded, "sounds like he got those scars around the time you did."

"That would explain the pain…" Y/N mumbled, sitting at the table. "I'm very sorry for your friend, I know how he feels." She began a small frown pulling at her face. "No matter how kind you are, people tend to avoid things they can't explain."

"Well, I have reason to believe he may be the answer to those scars."

She shook her head, "even so he wouldn't want to see me." (E/c) eyes flickered up at his feline gaze. "I know exactly how I look Geralt. Kings stopped requesting my presence as soon as they saw my face, the lodge will not send me out diplomatically in case another scar decides to show up." Her jaw was set, "I'm quite positive your Witcher friend would not care to see me."

Geralt nodded, "if you change your mind let me know."

• •• •

Winters were perfect for catching up with his brother in arms. Geralt had debated keeping the scarred woman's existence a secret, but ultimately he decided that it was Eskel who should decide.

He broke the news a few weeks into their stay. He'd made sure Vesemir was in the room. If anyone would have more knowledge on the subjects of soulmates it would be the old Witcher.

"I met a sorceress this past fall." Geralt began, soliciting a scoff from Vesemir.

"Did you bed her too?" The grey haired man asked. Soliciting a soft smile from Eskel as he turned the page of his book.

"No, but she had some interesting scars." Geralt commented.

Eskel's eyes shot up, his hand automatically scratching at the scars that lined his lips. "A sorceress who chose not to have them healed? That's unheard of. They tend to be a vain bunch." Vesemir said thoughtfully.

"They tried, but scars involving soulmates is another thing." Geralt peaked up at Eskel to gage his reaction. The Witcher had stiffened, listening intently.

"Soulmates," Vesemir mused. "That is a very rare phenomenon. I can't say I've ever heard of two soulmates actually finding each other."

"Hmm, I saw the scars with my own eyes. Three claw marks on the side of the jaw." Eskel dropped his book.

"Appeared out of nowhere about twenty years ago." Geralt added. "If I hadn't been mistaken by the pair of tits I would have thought it was Eskel."

Eskel's cleared his throat, "it's a coincidence."

"Maybe, but I don't think so."

"Perhaps it's fate forcing you to make things right?" Vesemir in his infinite wisdom had a point. Much to Eskel's dismay.

"If it's fate we'll run into each other." Eskel dismissed.

"Eskel, you can't outrun fate." Vesemir began, "look what happened to you last time."

Geralt sighed, "I didn't tell you this to feel trapped by fate. I thought you had a right to know, I also think you have a right to tell destiny to fuck off if you want."

Eskel seemed to relax a bit, "was she attractive?"

Geralt nodded, "scars and all. Triss says she was once prettier than Yen." He hesitated, "there is something else you should know…"

Eskel leaned forward curiosity getting the better of him.

"She doesn't think you'd wish to see her."

A frown pulled at the dark haired Witcher's lips. He knew all too well what it was like to carry those scars.

Eskel had once been considered a handsome man. He'd never had a hard time finding a lover, and people used to be friendlier. After he acquired the scars, brothels were the only place he could find pleasure, the contracts he took the people looked on him as if he were a feral beast.

"Go talk to her." Lambert's voice echoed through the hall.

"What have I told you about eavesdropping?" Vesemir asked, turning to the youngest Witcher.

"Ah, can it old man." Lambert said, waving him off. "You're always saying you want a lover. If she really is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down."

That was just like Lambert, to throw his opinion out there regardless if it was welcome or not. "I thought you opposed Geralt bringing visitors to Kaer Morhen. You really want me to bring someone too?"

"If it’ll get you laid, I’m willing to take one for the team."

Vesemir rubbed his temples, no one could get on his nerves like the younger Witcher. Bold and brash, Lambert had a tendency to speak without thinking things through. It seemed the mutations could not quell the passion for living that burned inside.

“You have time. Destiny can wait.” Geralt said downing the rest of his ale. “Think on it.” He said, patting Eskel’s shoulder before heading upstairs for the evening.

Vesemir and Lambert were quick to follow, leaving Eskel alone with his thoughts. He turned to the many shelves that lined the wall. The bookshelves had been moved years ago when the library had decayed enough that Vesemir didn't trust it to house his precious tomes. If anyone were to have a book on the subject of soulmates, it would be the old man.

The book was thin and covered in years of dust. Eskel brushed the cover off. The letters had worn off, but the faint engraving of the title could be seen, Love Potions, Relationships, and Soul Mates. Eskel flipped to the title page, how to tell if they're the one, potions to make them fall in love, and tips turning that crush into love.

A small chuckle escaped Eskel's lips. He wondered when the old Witcher had picked this up, and who he was trying to woo. The table of contents indicated the chapter on soulmates started on page 69.

"Soulmates were fated by the gods. The oldest known magic, but very little have studied it. Soulmates could be confirmed by matching scars. It has been speculated that when one soul receives the mark their kindred soul receives it as well.

It is unknown why the other soul experiences the same wound, and pain. Some scholars assume it is to bound the two souls in a mutual understanding.

Soulmate bonds used to be very common, but the emergence of alchemy, and sorcery has made the magic almost extinct.

Soulmate bonds typically occur during strange phenomenons such as blood moons, eclipses, solstices, etc.

There have been instances where soulmates have argued that they were fated to meet.”

Eskel flipped the page, but the next chapter was regarding a love potion. He took care placing the book back on the shelf.

He let his mind wander as he trudged up the stairs to his room. Having someone to hold on nights like this wouldn't be unwelcome.

The room was silent, the fire had turned to embers. He threw another log on coaxing it back to life with Igni. The only thing in the room that indicated someone lived in it were stacks of books, and his weapons laid on a long, narrow table.

He toed off his boots and sat on the edge of the low bed. He wanted to laugh at Geralt for suggesting such an idea. He wanted to tell Vesemir that destiny could go to hell. He wanted Lambert to realize that no one would ever want him, but most of all he wanted it to be true.

Of course he wanted someone to love him, but how the hell could he accept a love like that? If he couldn't love the scars on his face how could he expect someone else to? The questions raised in his mind, but Lambert's voice rang in the back of his mind if she is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down. Perhaps that was the ember that sparked hope in his heart.

• •• •

The lodge trusted her with an alchemy shop. It seemed even she couldn't fuck that up. The once brilliant negotiator was now grinding, mixing and drying herbs. The shop bell jingled indicating a customer. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Take your time."

She dried her hands on her apron, as she turned to face the deep voice. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. The scars that lined his lips were identical to hers.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault." He began as her hand shot up to cover the scars.

"I told Geralt you wouldn't want to see me." She said turning away from the dark haired Witcher.

He was quick to reach out to her, "no you're beautiful...no beautiful isn't the right word..it's not enough to describe you." Eskel breathed taking in her soft (e/c) eyes. "A choice I made hurt you." Eskel's voice was thick with shame, "and you've had to live with that."

She took him in, and her fingers traced the scars that lined his face. "Perhaps it's not all bad."

Eskel's heart fluttered at the prospect. She had yet to turn him away, and he dared to let his heart hope.

"These scars led me to you."

[yenslilac]

Daenerys Targaryen and Ophelia: An Essay

I wrote this a while back, just after Season 8 ended. After a few edits, I decided to share it with you! Disclaimer: I wrote this fueled with rage at 11 at night for two weeks straight. Don’t judge. 

Part 1: The Heroine Goes Absolutely Bats**t Crazy

Ophelia. Known throughout time as That Crazy Chick Who Drowned Herself. What a legacy. And Daenerys: She Who Toasted A City Like Marshmallows And Then Was Offed By Her Nephew/Lover. The sad thing is, these are my heroes. What a life. But the ‘Insane Heroine’ trope is prevalent in many forms of media – Dark Phoenix is another example. At first glance, Daenerys and Ophelia have very little in common; Daenerys is a powerful and assertive leader, and Ophelia is a background love interest. The one thing that unites them – they go crazy because of rejected love. While their descent into madness is slightly different; Ophelia is pitiful, Daenerys aggressive, both end up dying indirectly or directly as a result of their lover. Lovely. Let’s talk first about Ophelia – She is rebuffed Hamlet, the original pathetic sad boy, and at the death of her father, goes insane. After several performances of her insanity, she makes her way to a river where she falls (or throws?) herself into the water and drowns. This is witnessed by Gertrude, who then goes on to tell her brother Laertes of her death. It’s a pretty monologue, describing the flowers and plants growing along the riverbank, and how pretty and peaceful she looked as she sank under water and DIED. Remember this. Then my girl Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men etc. etc. Oh boy. Ohhhhhh boy. What can I say except **************** ***** ** **********. Thank you for your time. But she like Ophelia, was scorned by her Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt. But like, your paternal grandparents and the rest of your great-whatever grandparents were siblings, and your maternal grandparents were cousins so… But I digress. Wait no, this is what it’s all about. I’m back! I un-digress! So, she goes ‘insane’ cause she can’t get laid (don’t we all?) and roasts a whole lot of people and becomes… Hitler for some reason… So, Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt And Really Wishes He Can Just Catch A Break For Once Is It Really Too Much Too Ask is egged on by Murder Sister™ and Smarty Pants McGee to kill her. Just like my friends! He makes out with her and stabs her (best of both worlds!) and she dies. Very prettily. Remember this. You know. YOU KNOW I’m going to rant about this.

Part 2: Heroic Man Kills The Crazy Lady Like The Feral Dog She Is (But Feels Sad About It) 

Trope as old as time… why is this still fine… surely there’s a better plot deviiiiiice. “Duty is the death of love…” Shut up. Shut up. No, it isn’t. There is a thing called multitasking. You should try it. But let’s recap. Woman goes crazy because of lover/hero of the story rebuffing her because he’s got issues of his own that he doesn’t care to share with her, and close friend/family member is killed. This is when the paths of the Hero diverge. Hamlet does not actually kill Ophelia himself, but his careless actions towards her eventually drive her to suicide. Jon, on the other hand, does kill Daenerys, (no, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed) by a knife to the heart while snogging her. (I’d like to take the opportunity to say that this was ridiculous and yes, I will die mad about it.) What else is similar? Hamlet holds Ophelia’s (or in some adaptations tries to) dead body in his arms as she is about to be buried and Jon holds Daenerys as she dies. They cry and wish it didn’t have to be this way, but really guys, this is Your Fault.

The problem with this trope in particular (and I’m talking about a lot of other examples here, like Dark Phoenix and Wolverine) is that it renders the killer sympathetic. They didn’t want to do this, but it was for the good of humanity, it was a mercy, blah blah blah. Really? Did someone make you kill her? No, a sense of moral justice does not count. Hamlet abuses and humiliates Ophelia then claims he loved her so much that ‘forty thousand brothers could not…” Creepy. I have to say, creepy. And Jon Snow. “Was it right? It doesn’t feel right…” I’m glad you came to that conclusion. I really am. But I knew this from the moment you stuffed that butter knife into her spleen, so honestly you don’t have any business feeling sorry for yourself. If there’s one lesson that Game of Thrones and Shakespeare has taught me, it is:

(not an artist, don’t judge)

Part 3: Someone Died And The Director Said, “Cool But Like… Make It Fashion.”

Do you remember what I told you to remember? Did you? Cause I’m about to RANT.

Throughout time (like 500 years) men have been painting Ophelia’s drowning – the probable suicide of a tormented young woman – and made sure she looked hot while doing it. True, the description of her death is pretty and all, but depictions of her floating just below the surface, a dramatic and lovely pose and flowers strewn around her glamorise her death – something many other people have taken note on – and give her death something of a peaceful, serene departing note, rather than the death of a woman so deranged she did not appear to understand the gravity of her situation as she sank under water. Daenerys suffers a similar case of SDPS (Sexy Dead Person Syndrome). Let’s go through it step by step, shall we? While in an embrace with someone she loves and trusts, she is stabbed in the heart area (I guess?), and she dies. The End. My respect for white men flew off with Drogon. But I haven’t complained properly yet! Compared to other characters, like Myrcella, Joffrey and Catelyn Stark to name a few, her death was very clean. In these other examples, blood runs down their faces or spurts out of their neck in suitably graphic fashion but Daenerys’ case, two thin lines of blood trickle from her nose and mouth. Pretty, pretty. We get a brief shot of a pool of blood on the snow as Drogon picks her up, but blink and you’ll miss it. She looks shocked and confused as she dies, yet the next shot of her face shows her eyes are closed and an almost peaceful expression on her face. Not only this but we don’t actually get any proper Last Words, when she knows she is about to die. She makes no sound at all. She dies prettily and quietly. We also don’t see the knife at all until she is dead, removing any very graphic nature from the scene. A lot of the camera shots are of Jon’s face. This scene is not about Daenerys Targaryen’s death; This is about Jon Snow’s inner turmoil as he selflessly sacrifices the woman he loves to save the rest of the world. Hold up one second I gotta……

I mean, come on. Daenerys is barely mentioned after her death. She, a woman who freed hundreds, no, thousands of slaves and worked hard to reach her goals (albeit a little dragonfire-y) yet she dies without a whisper and is forgotten almost immediately. She becomes less of a central character and more of a catalyst for other men’s rise to power (see Bran the Broken). Wait, what about Sansa, you cry? Well, at this point, she was so out of character I’m striking her from the narrative. Bye bitch 😊 The same goes for most of the other women in the last season. They become plot devices with a little agency and that’s about it. Missandei? Unnecessarily killed to create the “Mad Queen”. Cersei? A compelling villain reduced to a ‘crying girl who wants to be comforted’. Arya? Kills the Night King and then, I dunno. Sansa? Suspicious of Daenerys because of reasons, betrays her brother/cousin because she doesn’t want Daenerys on the throne, then just ‘forgets’ about this whole thing to become Queen in the North. Brienne? Honourable knight left sobbing after her one (k)night stand left her. Another thing that many of these women have in common (the ones who survived to the final episode anyway) is that none of them have romantic endgames despite this being set up. Arya and Gendry have been close friends in Season 2 and 3, then <3  and everyone (i.e. me) thought that you know, they get together and stuff, because that’s what the writers seemed to be setting up. But nope. Arya’s all like ‘I wanna kill the queen’ (which she never does) and throws all that out the window. (But Gendry was totally on that ship at the end). Brienne and Jaime seemed to finally stop eye fricking and then got straight to the actual fricking but nooooo. “I lOvE CeRseI! WE’re bOTh tERrIble PeOple!” And of course, the crowning glory:

And the woman who actually does come out on top is Sansa, a largely unemotional, suspicious woman whose brother is now the king and made her a queen because she’s his sister. Riiiight. That’s totally not nepotism or anything. 

The End: But Boy, Am I Just Beginning

To conclude, the ending of Daenerys Targaryen was largely misogynistic as it painted a brutal and dishonourable murder as an act of mercy and gave the killer (sorry man, I feel like I’m throwing you under the bus here, but it must be said) a sympathetic angle as a heartbroken martyr sacrificing for the greater good. I had high expectations, I really did, but you just took it anD THREW IT IN THE DIRT. Good god. But it’s fine, I have fanfiction anyway.

Thank you for reading this, if you stuck around this far!

[diddlesanddoodles]

Dumpling ch 30

ALL THE EXPOSITION, FOLKS!

Alternative title for this chapter “In which the bastard gets a name and Keral yells at a hobo lady.” 

“The first time I ever met Thadeus was during a dedication ceremony in Silvaara. Some new conservatory or other, I don’t remember. He was there to represent Vhasshal on behalf of his father, the King. My official presentation to the court had been just the week prior so I was nervous as this would be my first official function under my full title. My dress was so tight and starched I could barely move without fear of tipping over. Which I did; I fell into a creek when I went to have a moment to myself away from all the madness of the festivities. Thadeus must’ve heard me go in, because he fished me out of the water before that damnable dress could drown me. We ended up talking for almost an hour and the guards had to come search for us when they realized we were missing.

“And then it came to pass that every time there was a reason for Vhasshal to come to Silvaara or Silvaara to go to Vhasshal, either he or I would go as part of the dignitary company. Just to speak to each other. He would give me little tricks and methods on how to stand the structured rigors of court and to not bow under the pressures our positions required of us, though mine wasn’t so great or heavy as to having one day rule an entire Kingdom. I was just a lonely girl and he was endlessly kind to me, far more than he should have been willing to bestow. One of the few people who did not see me a pawn to be played or won or lost.

“The day he learned that Rosanna of Ibronia was promised to him as his betrothed, I...found out that I had been promised to the eldest son of the Silvaaran royal adviser, a boy named Aidus. He was a cruel creature; selfish and too full of pride. I had always detested him, but he had always sought me out at court. When I was told I was to marry him...I did not receive the news well. His family was powerful and well connected. Anything he ever wanted he would get presented to him on a silver platter. Including me it seemed. But the one thing he nor his family had was a line to the throne. And though everyone kept telling me how smart a match we would be...

“...I did not want him.

“My heart belonged to another man; the Thorn Guard Captain’s son, Hayron. He had been one of the guards to come find me when Thadeus fetched me from the creek and he had often been apart of the guard entourage that escorted courtiers throughout the capitol. The three of us became friends after a time and I remember feeling like nothing that life could throw at me would be so insurmountable as long as he and Thadeus were beside me. I might even be able face my betrothal with dignity and grace as it was expected of me. But then I made a mistake. I...I fell pregnant.”

Oira laughed, a hallow false founding laugh without any humor. “I was so scared that I told Thadeus before I told Hayron. The Crown Prince of Vhasshal knew of my child before her father! Heh...he congratulated me, but he was still scared for my sake and that of my baby. He said that no matter what happened, he would make sure we would be taken care of and I absolutely believed him.

“I had just began to show when my father learned of my shame. I never found out who it was that told him or perhaps he just knew. In any case, I was dragged in front of the whole court and forced to confess everything. My father disowned me then and there and told me to leave. To leave Silvaara. That he would not allow...not allow a bastard to be born under his sigil. He had Master Barnabas erase my name from everything. The histories, our family tome...

“Hayron and I left and lived in the countryside for a time. I wrote to Thadeus and told him what had happened and he instructed us to remain there and that he would come and take us all back to Vhasshal. The night he came to get us...Aidus came as well. He told me that if I got rid the baby, he would overlook my unfaithful indiscretions and still marry me. I would not have my title, but I would share his and still be permitted to live in the place of my birth. I refused him. I told him he was not a man, but a selfish boy who thought he could buy and manipulate his way to power and to a royal title and a path to the throne. He...tried to cut Nenani from my belly. Thaddeus stepped in and...then there were guards everywhere, but they were...wrong. Their eyes were white as milk. Aidus had enchanted them, slipped some sort of potion into their food or drink so they obeyed every one of his words. It was a forbidden magic and I did not know how to snap them from their daze. Aidus had intended for them to kill Hayron, but he had not anticipated Thaedus being there.”

She paused, sucking in a fast breath as tears fell fast down her face. “They killed him. The Prince. He desperately tried to save us; Hayron and my baby and I. He told us to run and to not look back, but...I saw Aidus do it. The killing blow. A single stab through the heart. My dearest friend was dead and all I could do was run away as he bled to death in a foreign country and...I’ve been running ever since...”

Hands pressed to his lips, Keral’s green eyes seemed to stare out into nothing. His whole being was wound tight and looked almost feral with rage. Bitterly angry and sad. He took a deep breath that shuddered as it drew across his lips. “Thadeus was a fuckin’ idiot.”

Oira bristled, shaken from her tears and she snarled. “He was not! He was incredibly kind and selfless...”

“Incredibly stupid and inconsiderate!” Keral reiterated, staring daggers into the small woman. “He didn’t say a damn thing to us. Just up and left one night and got himself killed! All he had to fuckin’ do was tell us and we would’ve been there with ‘im. He was the fuckin’ Crown Prince fer fuck sake!”

Oira paused, her expression softened. “You...were friends with Thadeus?”

“Yes, I was!” Keral shouted, angrier than Nenani had ever seen him. Or Farris. He stood up and walked back and forth in a nervous line, running his hands through his hair and huffing through his nose looking for all the world like a man desperate to hit something. “Since I was a lad. He was my best mate fer years. Met ‘im after I became a squire.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“A’course that would be why he died. Puttin’ his neck out where it had no fuckin’ business and fer what? A damn woman who couldn’t keep her fuckin’ legs closed?”

“YOU GO TOO FAR, SIR!” Oira was on her feet as well now. “HE WAS MY FRIEND TOO!”

“AND YE GOT ‘IM KILLED!” Keral shouted back, the sheer volume echoed hauntingly through the forest. “AND A WHOLE LOT MORE PEOPLE TOO!”

Oira flinched as though his words were a physical blow and she shrank back. “Don’t you dare put that on me...”

“Go on then. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that the war would never have happened if you hadn’t begged him to come rescue ya from yer own fuck up. TELL ME!”

“I CAN’T!”

Keral starred at her with bristling hate. “He’s dead because of you.”

“I know he is,” Oira said, her head bowed and shaking. “I know...that I committed a horrible sin...”

“Ha. Don’t think so highly of yerself, woman,” Keral snorted distastefully. “What I want to know, is why didn’t ye come forward and tell us the truth? Why are ye out here skulking about the dark like some fuckin’ goblin?”

“By the time I would have been able to, the war had already started,” Oira said. “And...and you, Vhasshal that is...had started...started to...eat humans. Thadeus had died for my child. For me. For Hayron. I couldn’t throw it all away by risking it. And just as you showed me here, that was what I had expected from his father and so much worse. Tell me Keral, and tell me what you’re heart knows is the truth: would the Blood King have spared me or my infant child if I had told him the truth of his eldest son’s death? Or would he have killed and probably eaten us both and continued on with the war?” Keral didn’t say anything and Oira nodded. “So you understand me then a little at least...”

“Go on then,” he growled. “Tell us the rest of it. I know there’s more.”

“We hid in the woods with others for a long time, trying to wait out the war. Then one day you and your blue coats came and drove us all out to the Southlands. We made a life there somehow. We raised our daughter. And then I fell ill, but it wasn’t a sickness. The night I found out that I was with child again...Aidus found us for the second time. But he was not how I remembered him. He was twisted and so much crueler than before. He had fought in the war, but had started to learn some deviant magic and it had warped his mind and turned him into this...this monster of a man.” She paused and took a fortifying breath that wavered. “...he killed Hayron in front of me. With his own sword. My...my entire world bled out in front of me and I couldn’t do anything. Just like Thadeus. All over again. I don’t remember anything of the next few months, but he had taken me away and...forced me to be what he always wanted me to be; His wife. Even though I could give him no way to the throne and there was no longer a throne to even be had.

“And for those years that was what I did. Languished in the crumbing halls of his keep and bide my time. I gave birth to my son and was able to convince him that Haiyer was of his blood, so he wouldn’t kill the only part of Hayron I still had. I called him by a different name around him, but in secret I would always call him Haiyer. But...almost a year ago now, he said that he was disappointed that Haiyer had not bloomed or showed any sign of being touched by magic. He said that if he did not show promise by summer...that he would kill my son and we would have to “try again”. I could not let that mad man take my son from me like he took everything else. So I ran away. I had tried so many times before, but this time I managed to get away and stay hidden. A cloaking spell I’d found in one of his books.” She ran her hand across her scalp and the shortened tendrils of hair. “Normally such a spell requires a great amount of energy and calls for the blood of a freshly slain sparrow, but some of my own blood and hair did well enough as a substitution to last a few days. If I allowed the cloak to fall for too long, his many eyes would find me.

“I wanted to go back to the Southlands. To get my daughter and Halden, Haryon’s brother. But when I finally made it back, I couldn’t find them anywhere. Someone told me that there had been a fire and that Halden had died, but...no one knew where Nenani had gone. I feared that Aidus had come and taken her. To manipulate me into returning to him. So I’ve been searching for her ever since, hoping somehow he had not found her.”

Keral nodded. “Aye, she was with us by then. But this Aidus fellow. Is he this Smoke Mage I’ve been chasin’ all ‘round creation?”

“Smoke Mage?” Oira made a face. “Smoke Mages are a fairy tales to scare children. Aidus is something much worse; A monster. He’s barely a person anymore. He has scores of Wyverns he’s enchanted or made deals with to do his bidding and the spells he uses...eat at him. Pieces of him flow into the beasts. It was why escaping him is so hard when he has hundreds of eyes. And his precious Dragon of course, but...that beast is gone now. Which will make hiding from him much easier. He put so much of himself into that creature to have it bend to his will. He’ll be weak for some time yet as he tries to pull himself back together.”

“Ye asked me to take yer lil’ uns with me. What about you?”

“It’s me he wants. If he has me he couldn’t care less about the children.”

Keral sighed angrily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods piss on it, no wonder ye and Thadeus got along so well. Yer both fuckin’ idiots.”

“I don’t know what else to do! I have nothing left. Only them. I don’t care if I die, but they,” she said, pointing to Nenani and Haiyer, her voice frantic. “They have to live. For the memory of Silvaara, they have to live!”

Keral bent down suddenly and grabbed the woman up. She shrieked in fright as Keral brought her close to his face and her fire was doused by pure shock. She trembled and uselessly pushed against his hands. “What are you doing? Put me down!”

Nenani got to her feet, truly afraid now. She had listened to them yell and scream at each other for what seemed like forever, but despite the cruel things Keral had said, she did not think he would harm her mother. But he looked so angry, she was beginning to fear that he very well might. “Keral! Please!”

“I’m pretty damn good at smellin’ lies, girl,” he said to Oira, ignoring Nenani all together, and his voice was low with warning. “And I think yer tellin’ the truth. Or yer version of it anyway. But there’s one glarin’ omission in yer story.” Oira’s face was flushed and she was breathing hard. She was terrified. His eyes narrowed at her. “Just who the fuck are you, girl?”

She moved her mouth, but no sound came out. Keral snarled. “Try again, lass. I’m waitin’...”

“...my….my name is Oira Daelg. Wife to Hayron Daelg and mother to Nenani and Haiyer,” she said, voice shaking but firm in her convictions. As she spoke her next words however, her voice grew small and pained. Tears welled in her eyes. “But...but I was born Aine Elaine Oira of Silvaara. Youngest daughter of King Haeral XVI.”

Keral’s narrowed eyes softened and he sighed heavily, all the ire and hate draining away like droplets of water. “Of course ye are,” he said and crouched back down and eased her back onto her feet. He stared at her for a moment. “Yer that little lass that would tag along with Thadeus whenever the Silvaaran diplomats visited.” He paused in contemplation, digging back through his own memories to pluck out a name he hadn’t spoken in over a decade. “...Annie.”

“...yes,” she said quietly. “That’s what he called me. Annie.”

Keral shook his head, laughing without humor and looking around in disbelief. “Of course ye are...”

“I’m sorry,” said the woman with clear emotion. “I’m so sorry for what Aidus did to Thadeus. And my part in it.”

“Strange I didn’t realize who ye were when me and the boys caught ye,” he pondered aloud. “Probably too pissed that ye left yer lil’ girl all on ‘er own to recognize ye in the dark like that.” Keral sat back down in the dirt with a heavy thud, leaning back against the tree and looking up. The stars were out and the only light was the bright moon above them. He was quiet for a long time. “He would have hated himself if he didn’t go to ya. Even if ya never sought his help. He’d have blamed himself for whatever happened to ya and yer babe. Fer the rest of his life. That’s how he was.”

Oira stared at Keral askance and said quietly, “But there wouldn’t have been a war.”

“Probably not,” Keral agreed tiredly. He tilted his head to regard her with shining green eyes. “But does it really matter anymore?”

Oira considered his words and then shook her head. “...I don’t know.”

Keral nodded and looked over to where Nenani was sitting with Haiyer in her lap. The little boy was asleep, but Nenani was awake and watching. Listening with anxious attention between the two of them. They were so different from one another, her mother and Keral. But a thin thread connected them and it seemed like they both were aware of it at all once; How small the world could be that the death of one person could have such an enormous toll on two people so different from each other. Keral was watching Nenani carefully, considering something. He sighed and said, “So them two lil’ uns there...”

Oria was staring at Keral as he watched her children. “They are the last of my father’s bloodline.”

“And you…?” Keral asked, eyeing her from the side with one gleaming eye. Oira frowned and shook her head.

“I was disowned by my father,” she said firmly, sensing where his thoughts had wandered. “I have no claim to the throne.”

Keral just shrugged off her denial. “Kinda hard to be Queen of a country that doesn’t exist anymore. But still. It’s not a small thing, lass. Warren will be wantin’ to speak with ya.”

“I’ve told you everything, Keral,” she said stiffly. “Please. Just make sure they’re taken care of.”

“That Aidus bastard’s attacked Vhasshal; five times now. Hurt my brother. Killed my King’s ward. We can’t just let that go. I won’t let that go. I loved that boy like he was my own flesh and blood and I want that damn Mage’s head fer it.” Keral reached out and tapped his finger against Oira’s head and she batted at him. “You and the lil’uns are all comin’ to Vhasshal with me and yer gonna tell the King all you’ve just told me. And then we’re gonna end this fuckin’ madness once and fer all.”

“I can’t go to Vhasshal,” Oira said, her face contorting in pain. “I can’t.”

Keral snorted distastefully. “Ye said ye were sorry fer what that bastard did to Thadeus. Then prove it. Hoist yer skirts up and face the consequences of what ye did. Warren deserves to know why his brother is dead. Ye ain’t the only one whose entire family was wiped out by the war. Far from it.”

“I...” She covered her face with her hands.

“If ye say you can’t one more time, I’m tossing ya in my pack and lockin’ ye in,” he growled. “There ain’t a scenario where this doesn’t end with all a’ us goin’. You’ll have about a day to figure out yer choice a’ words.”

Nenani carefully eased Haiyer off her lap and stood. She went to her mother’s side and reached out to put her hand into the crook of her arm. Oira flinched, looking at her daughter.

“It’s alright, Mama,” she told her trying to give her an encouraging smile. “There are a lot of really nice people there. They took care of me. Please, don’t be afraid.”

Keral spared Nenani a tired smile. “Well, it’s decided then. I need to go grab my pack from where I left it. Just sit here till I get back.” He paused, looking at the ground in consideration and then bent down to carefully scooped little Haiyer up and slipped him into the large breast pocket of his coat.

Oira bristled and made as though to charge at the ranger. “What are you doing?”

“Yer pup’s gonna be my insurance,” Keral replied with a smug grin. He gently patted the small lump that was the sleeping boy. “To make sure ya stay put till I get back.”

Her mother watched Keral disappear though the trees with her youngest child and Nenani could see that she was frightened and anxious.

“Keral won’t hurt him,” she told her mother. “He really is nice. I promise. Even though he’s been really mad, he really is a nice person.”

“Nenani,” Oira said quietly and taking her hands and looking into her daughter’s face. Here eyes were seeking, pleading. “Tell me truthfully. Have they...have they been good to you?”

Nenani nodded. “Yeah. I like living there. Farris is kind of grumpy and yells a lot, but he takes care of me. He’s even teaching me how to make tonics!”

Oira smiled at her daughter indulgently, but it was clearly forced and she kept glancing towards where Keral had left through the trees. “How to make tonics? Is he a healer or…?”

“Oh, no,” Nenani laughed. “He’s the kitchen master.”

The smile was gone from Oira’s face and she stared at her daughter in horror. “The...the kitchen master? The...they gave you to the cook?”

Nenani nodded, not considering the source of her mother’s misgivings. “He wasn’t gonna keep me at first. He said that he just wanted to scare me off of stealing and then send me to live with the Hill Tribes. But I got sick with the red reap.”

Oira’s breathe hitched. “No. You...you got the reap? How...”

“I remember the pain mostly,” Nenani said. “Everything hurt and I couldn’t breathe. But Farris gave me medicine and stayed with me all night. When I got better he decided to keep me.”

“But still...they gave you to the cook!”

“He doesn’t really cook anything himself. The others do that. He manages the spices and runs the kitchen. Yale’s his assistant and he’s been teaching me about plants and herbs. And then there’s Saen. He’s really funny and sneaks me treats when no one is looking. And Quinn and Kol bake the bread; its really good. And then Bart is the butcher and Avery is kind of his assistant. Bart looks scary and mean, but he’s a lot like Farris and is actually really nice. And then Herit and Gjerk are the youngest. They call them tenderfoots because they’re still learning. Gjerk helped me when the wyvern attacked and I almost got smashed by a table.

“And then there’s Lolly. She’s the matron and she made me these clothes and was really nice to me when I first came and yelled at Farris for scaring me and making me think they were gonna eat me. And then there’s Maevis. He’s a magician and makes really yummy tea. He watches over Barnaby same way Farris watches over me and...”

“Wait! Wait. Did you say Barnaby?” her mother asked, face as pale as milk.

“Yeah, he’s an archivist,” Nenani paused. “Did you know him from before…?”

“Yes,” Oira replied sadly. “I did know him. He...he erased my name from the archives when I was disowned.”

Nenani did not say anything and truthfully she did not know what she could say. She didn’t want to think about all that her mother and Keral had discussed. The way they yelled at one another and threw around their pain like weapons as though hurting the other would lessen the weight of their own burdens. All Nenan cared about was that her mother was finally there. She was alive and now she even had a brother. Above all, she wanted them to be safe. Her thoughts returned to Vhasshal and the assured destruction and pain they would be returning to. Her stomach roiled at the memory of Jae falling into nothing. It hurt so much to think about...

“Nenani,” Oira said gently, taking her face into her hands. “My sweet, you’re crying...”

“The smoke mage...” she said with a whimper. “He...he killed my friend.”

“The one the blue coat spoke of? The King’s ward?”

“Jae was human, but the King called him his son,” Nenani said, shivering. “The King...and Keral. They found him when he was little and he was all alone so the King kept him and raised him in the castle. He was my friend...”

“Warren...took a human boy as his ward?” Oira asked, a strange sort of longing pulling at her features. “That sounds like something Thadeus would have done.”

“Jae tried to protect me from him. Aidus. When he came. He...he had Papa’s sword. But he...threw him off the roof.”

“Oh, my baby,” her mother said and held her. Nenani sank into her mother’s arms and let herself go numb. She was so tired now and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was so tired of crying...

“Oi, Princess,” Keral’s voice broke through the thickening sorrow of Nenani’s mind and she raised her head as the ranger returned from beyond the trees. She could see the thick leather straps of his pack strapped to his back and in his hand he held Haiyer, now awake and red faced with distress. The little boy reached out his hands towards Oira and was calling for her. Keral shook his head in clear exasperation. “Yer pup’s makin’ a right racket.”

“Mama!”

“Is that all you’re able to do? Scare children?” she asked the giant ranger.

“What can I say?” Keral said as he let the little boy slide down from his palm and frantically run to his mother. “It’s a talent.”

Keral put his pack down onto the ground and began rummaging through it. He pulled a flask out and put it in his pocket and several other items as well. Once he seemed satisfied, he looked over to the three humans and gestured them over. “Come on then, let’s get goin’.”

“Now?” Oira asked reluctantly. “Shouldn’t we wait till morning light?”

“Too easy fer folks to spot me in the day,” Keral replied. “Harder to spot in the dark. That’s why our coat’s are blue, blends better in the dark. And the sooner all of ye are in Vhasshal, the better. We don’t know when yer Smoke Mage’ll show up again and I’d rather have a few hundred feet of stone walls and a couple hundred more men to work with than just some trees and a few squirrels.”

Keral looked to Oira and nodded to his open pack. “In with ya, Princess.”

“Please don’t call me that. Oira is my name. No titles,” she said, eyeing the open pack with suspicion and reluctance. “And must we…?”

“It’ll be the most comfortable way fer us all to just have ya stashed in here.” When she made no indication of complying, Keral sighed in frustration and reached out and grabbed her around the middle. Haiyer cried out as his mother left his side, little hands trying to catch her skirt.

“For the love of –! Don’t just grab me!” Oira snapped indignantly. “That’s rude!”

“Don’t have the time to be humorin’ yer misgiving’s, Princess –er, sorry. Oira,” Keral said to her as he slipped her into the pack. There was a wad of cloth down at the bottom cushioning her from the other items further down and making for a softer place to sit. Once he had their mother tucked away, Keral eyed the two children. “Okay, sweetling. Yer turn.” Nenani let him scoop her up without a fuss and set her next to her mother and then he turned his green eyes to the smaller and arguably weepier of the group. Haiyer was grabbing at his tunic nervously and glaring up at the ranger.

“Give her back!” he demanded with a frown; his little chin sticking out in a pout.

“Oh, aye? Ye givin’ me orders there lil’ princeling?” Keral asked in amusement. “And just what ye gonna be doin’ if I say no?”

“Leave him alone, he’s just a baby!” Oira told him, but in response, Keral flipped the pack’s lid closed and sat his hand on top.

“Quiet woman and let me have my fun,” he said and turned his attention back to Haiyer who had procured a rock and had it pulled back in his hand, ready to throw it. Keral laughed. “Oh, ye gonna hit me with a rock?”

“Give Mama back! And sister!”

“Hm. No, I think I’m gonna keep ‘em,” Keral replied with a grin, patting the top of the pack with his hand.  

“NO!” Haiyer yelled and threw the rock. It landed harmlessly about a foot away from Keral’s boot and the ranger looked at for a moment before flicking his gaze back to the boy who visibly flinched. The thin blanket of courage fell from the little boy’s shoulders and he began to shake and cry. “Please….please give them back.”

“Ye think I’m gonna hurt yer mum and sister do ye, son?”

“You’re a giant...giants eat people...” said the little boy with an oddly serious expression, but the way his bottom lip trembled gave him away.

“This one don’t,” Keral said simply, shaking his head. “Never have, never will. Besides. Ye lil’ fella’s all taste like dirt.”

Haiyer blinked, looking confused and then turned his eyes down to the ground and the dirt there and then back up at Keral; tilting his head. “...dirt?”

“Oh, aye. Just like mud,” he said, making a face of disgust. “Not very yummy. So I won’t be eatin’ ya or yer mum an’ sister.”

“...no?” the little boy said with a hopeful lilt.

“Nope.”

“...oh,” Haiyer said, blinking as he digested this revelation, his fear seemingly forgotten. He looked at the rock and the back up at Keral and seemed almost ashamed. “...I’m sorry I threw a rock at you. I thought you wanted to eat us.”

“No harm, lad,” he said with a grin. “Ye did good comin’ to yer family’s rescue like that. Very brave of ya.”

“...I was really scared.” he admitted.  

“And how about now?”

“...still scared.”

“Well, don’t be worryin’ about that none, my lil’ lad,” Keral said and laying his hand down in front of the boy. “I’m takin’ all of ye somewhere ye gonna be safe.”

“...safe? From Addis?” Haiyer asked, a little more hope brightening his face and looking at Keral’s open palm warily.

“Addis?” Keral asked, confused. “Aidus, ye mean?”  

“Yeah. The bad man,” the boy said. “He hurts me sometimes. And Mama. Makes her cry a lot.”

The amusement in Keral’s eyes softened and took a moment to properly look the little boy over. He could see marking on his bare legs and scratches on his arms and face. What would normally have been mistaken for the scrapes and scratched of a rambunctious child when pulled together with everything else painted a much bleaker picture and he found himself very angry.

“I’m not gonna let ‘im hurt yer mum, lad,” he said gently. “Or yer sister. Or you.”

Haiyer fidgeted, digging his toes into the dirt and thinking very hard. When he finally spoke, it was a small and anticipative question. “...you promise?”

“Promise,” Keral answered, making an X over his heart. “Cross m’heart an’ everythin’.”

“...Okay.” Haiyer replied with the smallest of smiles. Keral remained very still as the boy cautiously approached him, eyeing his open hand. Slowly and still shaking, Haiyer climbed into the ranger’s palm and sat down in the hallow of the gloved hand. Lifting the boy very carefully, Keral brought him over to his pack and opened it. A very nervous looking Oira was glaring up at him and the tips of her fingers were glowing.

Keral rolled his eyes at her.

“Settle down, lass. Yer pup’s fine,” Keral said as he lowered Haiyer inside and let him slip off from his hand and into his mother’s arms.

“Mama! Guess what?” Haiyer asked, suddenly very animated and excited. “He said we taste bad so he isn’t gonna eat us.”

“Well,” Oira grinned, suppressing a laugh and pressing her forehead to his. “That is good news.”

[fyrapartnersearch]

It’s 𝔉𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔶 𝔗𝔦𝔪𝔢, y’all.

Well hey there, stranger! My name's Samvs and I'm kind of in the market for a new writing partner or two. Let me save you some time and give you the important deets up front:

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⭐️ EST (if that matters? I guess?)

Still with me? Rad~

Like everyone else posting on here, I'm a huge nerd, y'all. I'm absolutely the type to make playlists for every character and universe, to make big ass Pintrest boards for muses and locations and pets (its an excuse to look at dog pics, tho, lets be real,) and I absolutely love sharing stuff like that with my writing partners. That being said, if that's not your style, that's totally fine! I'm absolutely cool with most styles of collaboration!

That's really what roleplaying is about for me - collaboration. I love writing SO MUCH, but I'm not the type of person to write out a whole novel on my own, so I absolutely adore ooc chatter about the plot, the characters, the fucking memes they would send each other, whatever it may be!

I swear I won't chew your ear off all the time, but you're cordially invited to fantasize with me ✨

As for content, I’m pretty open. Yeah, there’s those few taboo subjects that most folk agree not to touch, but violence, sexuality and dark themes are the salt and pepper of literature. Gotta have a little darkness in your paintings according to Bob Ross, and his word is law. I don’t make the rules.

I don’t like fading to black unless the scene feels repetitive, and while I don’t have any specific kinks to insert, I can’t imagine most of my characters (or anyone else, tbh,) being solely into vanilla missionary.

This is the part where I admit I'm probably not going to be a good match for you if you crave daily replies. I also crave daily replies, but I literally cannot manage my life, my chores, my job, my stupid needy cat and everything else WITH as much writing as I'd like to do a day. I'd guess my average rate of response is a day to three, but there are going to certainly be times when I can hit you back much faster.

In short, I might need a little patience, but I'm more than happy to extend the same to you.

Speaking of, I'm also really not the type to be too butthurt if you bail. It's nice to get a message, but I mean, that's really awkward and I FULLY UNDERSTAND being overwhelmed and stepping away from writing for a bit. If you wanna come back, but the fire sort of faded for the story, hey, that's fine! I have about a billion plots to launch your way and as long as we get along, I'll be here when you're ready to work on something new!

On to those plots, though, because that's the good shit, right? Like, that's what we HERE FOR. Below you'll find a list of concepts I already have rolled up fairly tight into almost-plots; they're flexible and destructible and if combinable, so if anything really speaks to you in pieces, we can work with that! I’m a huge fan of larger casts, too, so if you’re here for an expanding universe, then I am too! In most of these, I don't have a preference for role, but in those that do I've bolded the role that I would prefer <b>you</b> to play.

<I> As a heads up, I've been listening to a lot of true crime podcasts lately so you might spot a bit of a theme in some of them lmao</i>

MODERN:

⭐ Journalist x <b>Investigator/Retired Officer </b>:

<i>[A little bit like modern D&D.] A charismatic Tiefling crime journalist meets an experienced investigator through work and talks this delightfully rough subject into a series of in-depth interviews. Though they have very little in common aside from an expansive mental catalog of crime scene photography, they find themselves talking long after the recording stops each time they meet. When the journalist finds himself suddenly embroiled in real danger, and without the benefit of being able to take it to the police, he turns to his newfound friend. What seemed like simple violence is only the tip of the iceberg, though, and it's up to the two of them to do what they can to divert the Titanic.</I>

⭐ Professional Witch x Client:

<I> Magic mingles with the mundane, and like with every other aspect of western life, cash is king. As long as you have money, witching agencies will be happy to help you find a mystic solution for your mostly monotonous worries, whether you need to break a curse... or cast one.</I>

⭐️ Werewolf x Dog Lover:

<I> There’s been a big, strange dog laying in the alleyway beside your house all night, and it’s dumping rain. You can’t just leave the poor pooch out there, right? Maybe he needs a home! </I>

⭐️ Drug Dealer x <b>Cop</b>:

<I> There’s a new party drug on the scene, and it’s making habitual users go feral. Literally. The morphing power of the euphoric powder known as Glimmer isn’t intended, however, and when it’s Fae producer is confronted by an officer on the case of a disappeared partygoer, they realize that there’s more going on here than just a little too much Hoovering. Fae politics and human laws have trapped them in a tight labyrinth that they’ll need each other’s help to navigate and survive.</I>

⭐️ Bonus Concepts:

<I> Fae realms, the intersection of fantasy and politics, odd couples, modern adventuring parties with diverse casts, nonhuman subculture </I>

HISTORICAL/MEDIEVAL:

⭐️ Fae x Adventurer

<I> It’s not every day one stumbles upon a mystic being and survives, and it’s even less common to come out on top. When a wandering adventurer finds a Fae trapped in an iron hunter’s snare in the wilderness, he’s wary to wisdom about setting it free. After cajoling and bargaining and begging, the Fae finally strikes a deal with the mortal; freedom in exchange for a wish. The adventurer can’t make a decision, though, and soon realizes that the Fae can’t leave him until he does, bound by the law of his own magic. Desperate to keep the powerful and beautiful creature with him, he stalls as long as he can. Maybe his wish is just not to be lonesome any longer. </I>

⭐️ Witch x <b>Inquisitor</b>

<I>Most villages have themselves a witch or a cunnung woman, a sage whose strangeness is tolerated in exchange for advice, cures and the promise of peace and prosperity through a little magic when the gods aren’t looking. This village happens to have a cunning fellow, who, perhaps unwisely, takes in a burgled and beaten stranger found on the roadside. It’s not until the unconscious man is already in his home that the witch realized he’s carried back a debilitated inquisitor, a stranger who may bring word of such country practices back to his leaders. Afraid that the burning arm of the church might turn towards his home, the witch has to either hide, show the inquisitor that his people are harmless, or... well, the dead don’t talk, after all, even if that does go against the his vow to defend life. What’s a witch to do? </I>

⭐️ Witch x <b>Fae/Demon</b>

<I> Same inquisition, different witch. Captured by the church and set to burn at the stake, there’s little hope for this one. Resigned to die, the witch is more than surprised when an otherworldly creature offers him a chance at freedom. It comes at a cost: he will be bound to the creature, in body and soul. Depending on his chaotic sponsor’s temperament, that could mean a life of learning deeper magics... or a life of torment and enslavement. A bad life is better than being on fire, though, right?</I>

⭐️ Thief x Warlock

<I> What’s shady, nasty, and might dirk you for a copper piece? Well, it’s both of them, actually. Two adventurers squabble over the prize stored in the city auction house, having both decided to steal it on the same night in unfortunate coincidence. One desires it’s power, the other, it’s weight in gold. Neither realize that they’ve both stumbled into an ancient trap until they split the burden of the curse the artifact truly bears. The curse binds them, and they have no choice but to work together to lift it before it claims their lives. Perhaps fate brought them together... or perhaps it was the wicked call of ancient spirits, begging for release. </I>

⭐️ Bonus Concepts:

<I> Dark magic, pacts and promises, curses, metropolitan adventures and sewer spelunking, social inequality based on fantasy aspects.</I>

It’s a lot of shit, I know. I wrote it. On a <I>phone</I>.

If any of that sounds like your jam and you’re interested in writing with me, then hit me up!

Contact me at <b>transcendthehvnt@gmail.com</b> and we’ll talk it out!

✨

[queenofthefullmoon]

An exhaustive list of Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin bosses I would or would not date

The Last Giant

Listen… The Last Giant has No Face. I like dating people who have faces. Also, his arms detach and he’s like, at least 10 meters taller than me, so I think that would be a hazard. I think he’s more in need of a friend than a romantic partner. I’d gladly sit down with him and discuss his feelings, but we are not meant to date.

The Pursuer

The Pursuer is great because he’s just so… Rotund. He’s shaped like a friend. Or maybe… More than a friend… He’s got a biggass sword that glows blue, which is great if you need to get up at night to get water or a snack, and a big shield he can use to protect you from the hot Drangleic sun when you’re on a date. You never have to worry about losing him because HE WILL FIND YOU. I think he’s a catch.

Dragonrider

He almost didn’t make it in the list of bosses I would date, but encountering him so often made me have a soft spot for him. Plus he’s a little bit round and I’ve gotta say. Rotundness is where it’s at. He’s fun to fight so I feel like you could have some fun jousts together and then chill… And go, like, I don’t know, ride dragons*? Fun couple activities.

*although dragonrider is his name I’m not sure we saw any dragonrider ride a dragon so this is a shot in the dark

Old Dragonslayer

The Old Dragonslayer has a very sexy armor, I’ll give him that, but he 1. Has a furry mask (a terrible fashion faux pas that I cannot forgive) 2. Is just sitting in the Cathedral of Blue while a DRAGON is outside, unslayed, which says something about the quality of his work. I had to kill the dragon myself, while the Old Dragonslayer was sitting around… Being old, I guess. Not for me.

Flexile Sentry

DISGUSTING AND WRONG.

Ruin Sentinel

The Ruin Sentinels are arguably the sexiest armor bosses in all of Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin. Something about these long lads and their eldritch identities and behaviors just tickles me the right way. The shape of their helmets looks a little bit like a turtle which gives them just enough cuteness while not taking away from the fact that I’m absolutely terrified of them and that they are in fact very scary (which is good). They’re also very tall which means they can carry me around and make me feel tall too. Definitely a good thing in a partner.

Belfry Gargoyles

I wouldn’t date the Belfry Gargoyles, but I’d be friends with them. I feel like they’d be fun at a sleepover. Girl’s night! Girl’s night!

Lost Sinner

I’d date the Lost Sinner. It might be a little bit controversial because yes she is a little bit nasty, I’m aware of that, but I think she just needs a little bit of company. I don’t want to change her, I love her right like she is, but if she wants me to teach her how to shower, I might just do it! I am a little bit biased because she’s got a big sword that looks really cool? Perhaps.

Executioner’s Chariot

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

Skeleton Lords

I think the Skeleton Lords are neat but I don’t really see myself dating them. Firstly, I’m not a skeleton fucker, so that puts a little bit of distance between us (given that they are in fact skeletons). They also have an army of skeleton children, which I’m just not ready to raise. I’m trying to find a date, not to become a skeleton mom. I feel like we’d be great friends though, I’d probably invite them over so they can practice their standup routine at my house while they leave their 30 skeletons children with the babysitter and we can like drink wine or something.

Covetous Demon

I would not date the Covetous Demon, but I would keep him as a mean dog in my yard to discourage my enemies from entering my property.

Baneful Queen Mytha

I’d be all here for the sniddies if Mytha kept her head on her neck but alas she is headless. 

Smelter Demon

Mh… Yes. He’s big and large and he’s got horns. He could put me up on his shoulder and walk around and I’d be warm up there. Sounds like nothing but a good time.

Old Iron King

Ngghghhh….. I wanna say no but he is Ripped… Absolutely jacked! I’m also a hoe for horns and wings! What can I say. Call me out if I ever make fun of scalies again? (im gonna do that like in a few paragraphs anyway)

Scorpioness Najka

Given the fact that her own fiancé, made miserable by her, asks you to murder her, I don’t think Najka is a fine romantic partner. In addition to that, even though I was here for sniddies, scorpions are scary and gross me out, so no, I would not date Scorpioness Najka.

The Duke’s Dear Freja

She’ll remain dear to the Duke only and she is NOT invited in my yard.

Royal Rat Authority

Wouldn’t date the big rat that makes all of the rules, but similarly to the Covetous Demon, having him on my property to scare people away would be pretty neat.

Prowling Magus and The Congregation

Prowling Magus has a SICK aesthetic I can absolutely get behind (« look at my cool sorcerer boyfriend wearing his goat helmet ») and I’ve stated before I Am a Hoe for horns so we could have something going on.

The Congregation is however BANNED from this house so since they’re probably his buddies that would most likely be a point of tension. Ultimately it might be better for me to keep a platonic relationship with Prowling Magus, as I do not want hollows to crawl on my floor when he invites his friends over.

The Rotten

Oh no lol

Looking Glass Knight

NNNYES absolutely I would date the Looking Glass Knight. He’s not only really cool looking and a Very Dramatic Man (standing in the rain when you meet him… the scenery… the atmosphere… he knows how to make an entrance), but he’d also be a great person to bring with you for a night out.

Exhibit A: he’s really fucking tall and scary which would dissuade anyone from approaching you uninvited

Exhibit B : he carries a FULL BODY mirror around everywhere which means you can fix your hair and/or makeup at any time without needing a shitty pocket mirror or going to the bathroom

Exhibit C : if you need help he can summon a limitless amount of people through his mirror

Just a great partner all around.

Demon of Song

Ohhhhhh noooooo Lord nooooooooooooooo please! Please spare me

Velstadt, the Royal Aegis

Velstadt is very loyal (a real man for following Vendrick all the way to the Undead Crypt) and he’s also very tall, very large, very strong, and very stylish (see the scales cape he wears). I would’ve put him at the top of the date list, but he’s no dating material — he’s husband material. A little downside is that he might put his job before me but I get it. It’s career before everything. I will not limit my husband’s ambitions.

King Vendrick

Vendrick is taken by an eldritch entity and still very much in love with her despite the fact that she destroyed his kingdom and brought the entire civilization down and also caused him to become a war criminal and kill a pacific race of giants all on his own like a big boy so I’m not very interested in him.

Guardian Dragon & Ancient Dragon

I’m putting them together because they essentially boil down to the same thing : I’d offer them a home but I wouldn’t date them. The Guardian Dragon can stay outside and be feral with everyone else that I put in the yard, while the Ancient Dragon can have his own room and like is invited for tea sometimes, but that’s all.

Giant Lord

See Last Giant

Throne Defender & Watcher

I’m a little bit torn on this one because I’m experiencing bisexual panic. We’ve got cool large dude with a beard ; cool slender lady that jumps around everywhere ; they could both beat me up and they both look hot, help me. However, I have to say if I had to pick I’d got with the Throne Watcher because she is hot and looks slightly cooler. I’ve always wanted a very tall wife who could suplex me into the sun, which she could do in a heartbeat.

On the other hand, they do look like a power couple that I’d love to have for dinner and I’d hate to break them up while there are so many fish in the sea and they look so great with each other.

Nashandra

Human Nashandra looks pretty and soft, however anyone who witnessed my first blind playthrough of Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin will tell you that she did not have me fooled and I was very wary of her from the beginning. Anyone who has witnessed my first fight with her looking very skeletal will also tell you that I screamed « WHAT IS THAT » for at least 5 minutes, so that probably gives you an idea of if I’d date her or not.

Also, her weapon of choice is a scythe, which looks cool, but is very unpractical, and just for this fatal mistake, she becomes undatable.

Darklurker

Wings… Four arms = twice the hugs… Cool hood… Yes…

Elana the Squalid Queen

She’s nasty and told me I was undeserving of the mire, which is pretty mean of her. Even if she thinks it, she could at least be nice about it. I would not date her.

Sinh the Slumbering Dragon

Sinh is BANNED from this house because he’s not just feral, he’s RABID and POISONOUS and if I let him live in the yard he could poison my entire property and I do not want that.

Fume Knight

Alas! The Fume Knight looks really cool and has a pretty sexy armor, but tales say that he was infatuated with another woman (whether he met her when she was already an Ashen Idol or not remains a mystery but I’m no one to judge his taste in women). I respect people’s crushes so I will let him be in love with whoever he fancies and they may come over for dinner, as long as they behave.

Aava, Lud and Zallen, the King’s pet

They are very welcome to live in the yard. They may come inside the house, but they are not allowed on the couch.

Burnt Ivory King

No… He loved his wife very much… I’d invite them over for dinner and MAYBE try to seduce one of his knights (they have sexy armors, what can I say).

Aldia, Scholar of the First Sin

Aldia is a weird dude and I wouldn’t feel safe around him. I think he’d probably kidnap me while I’m asleep and go do some experiments on me in his cursed mansion. It’s a no from me chief. Not to mention the fact that he’s a… tree?

Afflicted Graverobber, Ancient Soldier Varg, and Cerah the Old Explorer

I wouldn’t date them, even though their armors are pretty sexy, simply because they seem like a good group of friends and I wouldn’t feel comfortable inserting myself in the group. I think I’d even be too shy to befriend them, but if they wanna come by my house and have a good time, they’re welcome to do so.

Blue Smelter Demon

See Smelter Demon, but with more vigor because this one is blue.

Sir Alonne

Yeah… he’s got the eldritch factor that I like in the Ruin Sentinels while also seeming more human and he’s also a pretty stylish man. I feel like he’s one of the strongest contestants in the game and he wouldn’t mind my long nose, as he’s got one himself. Pretty sexy armor and he is a man of honor. Definitely a yes.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Book Roundup April/May 2019

This spring has been exceptionally difficult and busy for me on both a personal and professional level.  I really haven’t had the time to read as I’d like--so I’m combining April and May.  With that being said, there were some good books within the past couple of months--Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan was DEFINITELY a huge highlight.

Call Me Evie by J.P. Pomare.  2/5.  Kate is held in a remote cabin by Ben--who holds her captive while claiming to protect her from the fallout of something terrible that she did.  The trouble is that Kate can’t remember the night that terrible thing happened.  As she struggles to piece together her memories, what Bill tells her isn’t matching up--and she must reconcile who she is with what she did.  I’m sure that lots of people would love this book, but the pacing was thrown off for me by all of the flashbacks.  It’s not you, it’s me.

Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan.  5/5.  Nadya is a Kalyazi cleric, and as such she can commune with--and draw supernatural power from--a pantheon of gods.  She’s spent her life in a monastery; however, a looming threat finally materializes in the form of Tranavian invaders, heretics that send Nadya on the run.  Falling in with Malachiasz, a Tranavian defector, she sets out to end the war she only way she knows how: by killing the Tranavian king.  Meanwhile, Serefin, the heir to the throne, is summoned home from the front--only to discover that he’s in more danger at home than abroad.  This is a wonderfully atmospheric and delightful novel.  Emily never holds back--you get monsters, you get royal politics, you get alcoholic princes and questions of theology.  And there is a romance that I’m absolutely obsessed with, which is always major for me.  I loved this book to death, and there is one bit at the very end that just got at my soul.  I can’t wait for the next installment!

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens.  3/5.  Kya is a young child when her mother walks out on the family; it isn’t long before her brother and father follow suit, leaving Kya as the borderline-feral Marsh Girl.  At first, she’s dependent on the kindness of strangers.  But gradually--with the help of friends and Tate, a boy who will become her first love--she becomes independent, if never truly accepted by the nearby townspeople.  Her way of life is shattered when a young man shows up dead--and she is accused of murder.  On the plus side, this book was very engaging, and some the descriptions were at times beautiful.  If you’re from the South, some things will indeed ring true.  It’s not perfect, but it is engaging, and a fun if predictable read... until the last third or so, when everything kind of collapses and the book’s flaws are emphasized in a big way.  I really, really disliked how much Owens went in on the “untouched wild beauty” thing with Kya.  It felt very fetishistic.  She’s this beautiful poor white girl living feral in the marsh... learning everything she knows from black people, by the way.  And all the men love her and want to have sex with her.  I’m honestly just torn about this one; I feel like I would have given it a lower rating if not for how much I did enjoy the first chunk.

The Bride Test by Helen Hoang.  4/5.  Khai is accomplished and handsome; however, he’s never had a girlfriend.  On the autism spectrum, he’s convinced himself that he’s incapable of love.  His mother has other ideas--and while visiting her homeland in Vietnam, she meets Esme.  She offers the single mother a golden opportunity: visit America for the summer and convince Khai to marry her.  If he refuses, she can go home, no strings attached.  It’s too much for Esme to possibly turn down--but making Khai fall in love with her is a much more difficult task than she first imagined.  This wasn’t quite up to par with Hoang’s debut (the delightful Kiss Quotient) but I did really, really like it.  Her trademark humor is there, as is her sensitivity and knack for sweet romance.  Khai and Esme’s story is just kind of lovely.  (And sexy.)  I did feel like the ending was a bit rushed--I wanted more.  But I’d recommend it any day, and can’t wait for Hoang’s next book.

Little Darlings by Melanie Golding.  2/5.  Following the birth of her twins, Morgan and Riley, young mother Lauren is exhausted.  Therefore, few believe her when she says that she saw a woman slip into her hospital room and attempt to replace her babies with strange creatures.  A month later, the boys briefly go missing in the park--and when they’re found, Lauren insists that the things that have been returned to her are not her children.  This may have been a bad fit for me--I love magical realism and changelings, but the overwhelming depressing darkness of this book was just... not even vaguely enjoyable.  And it did help put me off of having children for a looong time, if ever.  I couldn’t focus on the writing quality; it was just so dour.

From Scratch by Tembi Locke.  5/5.  This memoir tracks the first few years following the death of Tembi’s husband, Saro, following a long battle with cancer.  As she visits his Sicilian family each summer with their daughter, she flashes back to the early days of their courtship and marriage--as well as her in-law’s initial struggles over the fact that their Italian chef son married an African-American actress.  “From Scratch” is LOVINGLY written and painfully beautiful.  It made me want to be more open to falling in love, as cheesy as that sounds--what Tembi and Saro shared was clearly worth all of the pain she’d feel after seeing him slowly deteriorate and ultimately losing him... which is saying something.  Locke also has a talent for writing in general, but especially about food.  I appreciated her human examination of the prejudice she faced; it’s really obviously on her to decide whether or not to reconcile with people who treated her with clear racism, but...  She also clearly loves and is loved by her mother-in-law now.  The honest complexity in that relationship is refreshing.  I don’t usually love memoirs, but this one was fantastic.

The Unlikely Adventures of the Chergill Sisters by Balli Kaur Jaswal.  4/5.  Rajni, Jezmeen, and Shirina aren’t estranged, exactly, but they don’t have much in common either.  But after their mother’s death, it’s revealed that she charged them with a journey through their ancestral homeland of India.  With each sister carrying secret struggles, they unite in an attempt to fulfill their mother’s wishes--and come to terms with their relationships with not only her, but each other.  Balli Kaur Jaswal is so good.  And even if I didn’t love this quite as much as Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows, it’s still quite good.  She’s a rare author who can blend genuinely funny moments with high drama (that is often socially aware).  There is one subplot that I didn’t super love due to its implications, but otherwise I really enjoyed the book and the sisters.

Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors by Sonali Dev.  3/5.  Trisha Raje is a successful surgeon--who is nonetheless alienated by her blue-blooded family due to her history.  When she meets DJ Caine, a high-profile chef in the running to cook for the prestigious fundraisers supporting her brother’s political campaign, it’s dislike at first sight.  He can’t stand her snobbish bossiness; she finds his assumptions about her frustrating and demeaning.  But even if DJ didn’t need the job, they can’t avoid each other--because Trisha is the only person who can save DJ’s terminally ill sister.  So: Dev says that this is very loosely inspired by Pride and Prejudice, but as the title suggests it’s VERY inspired by Pride and Prejudice.  Points for the genders being swapped here--though DJ does stand in part for Darcy, he’s the Lizzie of this story--and Dev does a great job of bringing cultural backgrounds and social issues into the forefront without beating us over the head with it.  But for whatever reason, I never really clicked with Trisha and DJ’s romance, and the Wickham side of this was... not great.  Still, it’s a fun read and it made me very hungry.  Not bad for a day by the pool!

[needlekind]

power like mine: some meta hollering about Tiki

what is friendship, if not this

rosia here came back almost thirty minutes later and i was still going

tiki is one of my all-time faves and one of the first characters my friends, especially my non-fire-emblem friends, associate with me—young tiki was my first fire emblem and first sewn cosplay! i had four different people @ me at once when she was announced as an assist in smash. i love her so much. so obviously i had a WHOLE LOT OF WORDS TO SAY about my best lady over here, and now i am condensing them for all you lovely folks

this post will assume knowledge of fire emblem: awakening without offering any explicit spoilers! it also will not contain any plot spoilers for fire emblem: shadow dragon or fire emblem: new mystery of the emblem, but will discuss tiki’s backstory, and a couple things you can reasonably expect to happen by virtue of playing a 90s jrpg! while not image heavy, there are a chunk of them interspersed throughout.

LET’S TALK ABOUT WHY I LOVE THIS LADY SO MUCH

first, let’s go over Young Tiki’s appearance in the Archanea games, since most people are likely more familiar with her appearance in Awakening. it alludes to some parts of her backstory, as do her various quotes in Heroes (which, alongside Warriors, is likely where most people are familiar with Young Tiki), but let’s just get all our bases covered!

Tiki is the daughter of Naga, who is more or less just Literally God—just by virtue of sheer power, Naga, though not necessarily worshiped as a god just yet, is ruler of the powerful divine dragon tribe, and exalted and revered by humans alike even in ancient times. Naga dies ("dies"—ascends to godhood or an immaterial plane or whatever due to being TOO STRONG) very shortly after Tiki is born, a thousand years before Marth’s time, and on their* way, Naga puts Tiki to sleep, because the thing about dragons and Manaketes is that they are too fucking powerful, and their power will eventually drive them insane and turn them into feral beasts, which is why Manaketes are even a thing: by putting their power away into Dragonstones and taking on human forms, Manaketes can keep themselves stable, whereas if they lived life as dragons, they'd inevitably lose their mind completely and become monsters, no different than wild beasts.

* while Naga is portrayed as a woman in Awakening, and it’s commonly accepted as far as I know that their title “divine dragon king” is just a mistranslation due to nonspecific gender pronouns in Japanese, there is old Archanea-era official art which portrays Naga as male, so I personally like to think Naga is whatever the fuck they want to be and they just sort of decided to shit out a child of their own accord at some point, but that’s neither here nor there

Because Naga is, as previously established, so incredibly powerful, their daughter, Tiki, is, of course, fucking INSANELY bullshit powerful—and, of course, since she’s a newborn, she has absolutely no control over those powers. If she were to degenerate, she would effortlessly destroy the entire continent. Naga loves humanity too deeply to risk such a thing, so, as previously established, they put Tiki into a magic slumber to prevent this from happening.

She spends a thousand years in this sort of stasis, having constant nightmares about becoming a monster and hurting humans without having any control over it. She is woken up for brief periods of time at infrequent intervals so she can be comforted and/or fed by Gotoh (who i’ve complained about before, he’s just what if dumbledore was even WORSE because he’s SO MUCH MORE POWERFUL), Xane (who i absolutely adore but will not be mentioning again), and/or Bantu.

she certainly has some amount of awareness about her existence, even in sleep, because she can, of course, talk and has a basic level of cognizance—one day, after a thousand years of sleep, Tiki asks Bantu (she affectionately calls him Ban-Ban) where vegetables come from, and Bantu, taking pity on her, makes the decision to bring her out of the temple. and Tiki, who has spent a fucking millennium all alone having these terrible traumatic dreams, goes out into the world for the first time and she is immediately like I Wanna Do A Friendship

and boy howdy does she!!! Tiki spends basically the entire Archanea games effortlessly endearing herself to absolutely everybody—Archanea only has a few supports, but when you look at her Heroes quotes and see how eager and excitable she is, and you see how quickly she makes friends with the Warriors cast, it isn’t hard to extrapolate how beloved she must have been as part of Marth’s army. within a few seconds of meeting him, Tiki calls Marth, prince of Altea and leader of the Archanean resistance forces, “Mar-Mar,” and he is really only briefly shocked by the whole thing before realizing that she’s too cute. he can’t say no to her. she attaches herself to absolutely everyone, especially Mar-Mar, and all she wants to do is play and hang out and be pals with people! she spent so long in isolation but instead of dwelling on it, she really quickly jumps at the chance to make things happy and fun!

FE11/12 are sparse on supports, like i said, but she does have this really cute exchange with Bantu i want to highlight:

Bantu: Tiki, my child. Tiki: Oh, Ban-Ban! Bantu: Are you having a fun time with everyone? Tiki: Yes! I'm having so, so much fun! Bantu: Ooh, that's good to hear. It's very important you're having fun. Tiki: Oh, but... Bantu: Hmm? Is something the matter, child? Tiki: A while I ago, I, umm...I broke Mar-Mar's precious mirror...... Bantu: Oh dear...That's a bad thing you did. Tiki: Yes. I did something bad... Bantu: So, what did you do after that, child? Tiki: Oh...Mmm. I told him. I said "I'm sorry" to Mar-Mar. Bantu: ...And then, Prince Marth forgave you. Tiki: ...Yes.

and i love this so much because this happened, like...days ago. but she is so CONSUMED BY GUILT over her mistake that she’s just BRINGING IT UP UNPROMPTED, DAYS AFTER THE FACT, DESPITE THE FACT THAT IT'S BEEN ADDRESSED AND FORGIVEN!! she’s a good girl! she’s a sweet kid! but she also gets loud and impulsive and a little bratty sometimes: in her A support with Bantu, he tells her he’s going to leave her when the war is over to help other Manaketes across the continent. she gets terribly upset, and he redirects her:

Bantu: It isn't like we'll be apart forever. That's right. I'm sure I'll be back when you're a bit taller. Tiki: Huh...How tall? Bantu: Hmm? I guess...about my height. Tiki: Okay...Then, I'll transform and become bigger right now. Bantu: W-wait, Tiki! Tiki: ...Sorry, I lied.

my other favorite support of hers is with Navarre in Warriors, who is precisely as good at friendship as he looks—

Tiki: Hiya, Navarre! I heard you don't like to fight girls? Is that true? Navarre: Who told you tha-- ...Ah, Caeda. Tiki: So, I'm a girl... But what about my dragon form? Would you fight dragon Tiki? Navarre: Ridiculous. Tiki: But I'm curious. If dragon Tiki attacked, what would you do? Navarre: Unimportant. I only fight strong opponents. Tiki: So you'd fight me, because I'm super strong as a dragon. Navarre: You, strong? You're just a child. A rather conceited child... I have faced death time and time again, but never succumbed to his cold grasp. You have no such experience. Even as a dragon, you'd be no match. Tiki: Oohhh! I don't really wanna fight, but you're making me angry! Navarre: Just forget about it, Tiki. Tiki: I can't! I won't! You and me! Right here, right now!

"no, i won’t fight you in your dragon form because i don't fight anyone weaker than me” “WOW? WOW???? THAT WAS JUST A HYPOTHETICAL BUT NOW I ACTUALLY WANT TO FIGHT YOU FOR REAL. PUT UP YOUR DUKES BUDDY”

young tiki is peak Sassy Lost Child, but then not even four lines of dialogues later she’s distracted from her righteous fury because Navarre goes "i'm not going to fight you because you're precious to Marth" and Tiki goes OH!! SO IF I'M MARTH'S FRIEND AND YOU'RE MARTH'S FRIEND THAT MEANS WE'RE FRIENDS

and Navarre is like oh my fucking god

Navarre: That's not how it works, but... Believe what you want. Tiki: Teehee, yay! I'm so glad to be one of your dear friends, Nar-Nar! Navarre: Ugh... I'm leaving.

so she is just Like This all this time. at the time she’s recruited in FE11, she only has twelve years of human memories, so she’s treated like a child, and she acts like it, for the most part! but one thing that really gets me—and it gets overshadowed very often, because she's mostly like!! let's stay together forever!!! i love you so much i love all my friends!!!!! i love the beach because the ocean is big enough for ALL my friends to play with!!!!!! one of her character select quotes for her legendary version in Heroes is just "i love you all!!" she's SO cute—but one of legendary Tiki's dialogue quotes is "I heard someone say that I'm going to live much, much longer than everyone else... How much longer, do you think?"

they shelter her in this way, a little; she says she heard someone say that—when Tiki insists on her maturity, like in her Warriors supports with Corrin, it’s often in a humorously indignant way, but the fact is, by the end of FE12 she’s been a soldier in an army in two wars. none of it hits her sunshiney disposition, but the fact is, Tiki is aware of her own mortality or lack thereof, or, more importantly, her friends’ mortality—but she doesn’t seem to really know what to do with or about it.

FE12 ends with Tiki living her life happily as a part of the palace town. we don’t see Marth’s death; we only hear about it when we first meet her in Awakening. we don’t know what happens in between, either. we miss about 2,000 years of Tiki content. a lot changes in two millennia, of course, but the thing that sticks out to me most is this:

FE11 Young Tiki classic mode death quote: “No...I don't want to be...alone...”

FE13 Adult Tiki classic mode death quote: “I won't have to be alone...anymore...”

geez louise

so: enter Awakening Tiki!

hey not that i don’t LOVE her look, but, like. here’s a question. that’s a REALLY high slit. what do those garters clip onto

anyway

like i said, this post assumes Awakening knowledge, so we’re just going to breeze through where she’s at when we meet her as a quick refresher: by now, Naga worship is the cool new prevalent thing now and, as we’ve discussed, Tiki is the daughter of Literally Just God? so here we have a lady who is one part jesus, one part the oracle at delphi, and one part a deity in her own right. by now, degeneration isn’t so much a concern; Awakening doesn’t address how this happens—Young Tiki is permitted to leave the temple and travel with Marth because he assembles the Fire Emblem, then known as the Shield of Seals; of course, it’s split into the different gems by the time Awakening happens, so it’s likely some combination of her aging and therefore acquiring greater control of her power, and her putting those powers away (i.e. needing to perform her paralogue’s ritual to access any part of them)

anyway, so we have Tiki, thousands of years out from the deaths of her first friends—including Marth, who she calls the best friend she's ever had two thousand years after the fact—and now being worshiped as a prophet and oracle

and Tiki's defined by her loneliness in a lot of ways; keeping herself from being lonely again was the thing that drove her completely while she was still a child after waking up, and, throughout both FE11/12 and Heroes, she expresses a lot of fear of being left alone again, but by Awakening she's sort of...resigned to it? when you recruit her in FE12, she says she’s afraid of falling asleep at all again, that she worries if she closes her eyes they’ll never open, she’ll never see her friends again—meanwhile, Awakening Tiki is the queen of depression naps. she's more jaded, and she even openly speaks disparagingly of humanity, such as in Harvest Scramble:

So this is how the denizens of the Outrealms celebrate. People are scarcely different, whatever realm they inhabit. They pray for bounty, then despair when those prayers go unanswered. At times that despair gives way to war... Alas, festivals are but man placating his gods only to selfishly curse them later.

fuckin. for god's sake, tiki

but she's resigned to the fact that she is on a whole separate level from humans these days, that she's an object to be worshiped, the Voice before herself, and she still serves the role she's been given to its fullest? like, she resents being the Voice, but it brings people peace, so she does it. despite her ruder comments, it’s clear she does have a lot of love for humanity—she must, to do so much work and allow herself to be placed in such a lofty position so far away from them all for their sake

still, it’s made very clear she’s just sort of...accepted her lot in life, even if she has no love for it. again, from Harvest Scramble (all underlining mine):

Tiki: *Sigh* Raise your head, Say'ri. Please? Yes, I'd retired to a position of uninvolved security in my sleep. I merely observed. I intended to never again play a hand in the affairs of others. ...I thought that was best for everyone. Say'ri: And I violated that choice, ran contrary to my lady's wisdom! Tiki: Well, yes. Perhaps you did. My legend was meant to fade, as legends do. To scatter like sand in the wind.

it was around this point that rosia came back from her shower:

note the almost 30 minute time stamp difference

i wasn’t done

anyway

all of this, but she joins Chrom's army because destiny calls or whatever—Grima is an active threat, and she cannot leave the world to be ruined, so she's just kind of like yes all right i guess we're doing this and wipes the sleep out of her eyes and gets right back to it, but it isn’t until she has regular human company again that she realizes how much she missed it! a direct continuation from that last support bit:

Tiki: The choice I described before, to sequester myself away. That was how I felt back then. Back when we first met. But that is not how I feel now. Say'ri: Oh? Then...might I ask your mind now? Tiki: I'm thankful to you, Say'ri. Say'ri: Th-thankful?! ...To me, my lady? Pray, what could you mean? Tiki: Yes, to you. Without your intervention, I'd never have met all these wonderful people. And you've made me see that I am still relevant. That I can still be of use. Even to those resigned to live out their days in hermitage, warm company is a blessing. It was you who reminded me of that, Say'ri.

side note, she is secretly a HUGE goofball and it really only comes out when she's interacting with people on the regular again; she shoves an apple right into Say'ri's mouth mid-sentence and blows raspberries at her because she's being Too Serious and Tiki wants Say'ri to be honest with her and be just a regular FRIEND instead of a servant. i also want to talk about her complete lack of chill real quick, because that’s a DELIGHTFUL aspect of, again, Jesus But A Dragon’s silly personality; we discussed this with her Navarre supports and her solving the problem of not being tall enough for Bantu to stay by threatening to transform on the spot but oh my god do i ever love what a formal affair she makes out of threatening to EAT ANNA

Tiki: Is there aught you would like to tell me, Anna? Anna: You mean other than...um...how AWESOME you are?! Tiki: I hear you charged admission to my speech on the unending power of good. Additionally, it seems you are hawking my signature like a common market trinket. Anna: W-well, common market trinkets usually don't sell for 50 gold a pop! ...R-right? Look, come on! There was DEMAND, Tiki! The people just want to be a part of you! You get to spread your message, they get hope for the future, and I get a little coin! ...Er, or a lot of coin. Tiki: If your actions were so altruistic, there was no need to hide them from me. Yet even now, I see the shame of your deeds writ upon your face. Anna: But wait! Wait! I didn't do it for my own personal gain, I swear! Tiki: Such deceit only compounds your folly. Anna: T-Tiki? Wh-why are you pulling out a Dragonstone?! Tiki: To teach you that deceiving an oracle bears a hefty price. Now still your lying tongue and prepare to be eaten.

other people she threatens to eat: f!Robin, who realizes Tiki will answer questions in her sleep, starts with some history, escalates to ~were you in LOOOOOVE with prince marth~,

Avatar: (Er, Tiki? Hello, can you hear me? I want you to listen very carefully. Remember when you told me about ancient King Marth and how he saved you? Well, I was wondering... Did you love him?) Tiki: ...... Avatar: Hello? (This is odd. Usually she answers right away.) Hey, Tiki? Can you hear me? I'm asking you a question. Were you in love with King Marth? Did you want to marry him? Come on, spit it out! Tiki: Tiki...is not home. Avatar: Hey! What kind of dreamspeak is that?! You're supposed to answer my question! Tiki: *Snort* H-huh?! Whooza wozza?! What's going on?! Avatar: Aw, nuts. I woke her up. Tiki: Avatar? Is there an emergency? Is the camp under attack? Avatar: Er, well... I mean, that is to say... You were...moaning! Yes, that's it. Moaning unhappily in your sleep. I thought you were having some terrible nightmare and decided to wake you up. Tiki: Really? Thanks, Avatar. ...I think it was a nightmare. I vaguely remember being hounded by some awful hag. She wouldn't stop pestering me with personal questions. Avatar: O-oh? F-f-fancy that! What a funny dream! Heh hah! Tiki: *Yaaawn* But I'm still pretty sleepy. You don't mind if I doze off again, do you? Avatar: Oh. No. Of course not. Be my guest. Tiki: Just another forty winks and I'll...be ready...for action... ...... Zzzzzz... Avatar: (Whew! I dodged an arrow there! I couldn't very well tell her I was asking such private questions in her sleep...) Tiki: Zzz... *mumble* Avatar: (She's talking in her sleep again! Let me just bend down here so I can get a good—) Tiki: Avatar...mind your own business...or else. Avatar: WAAAAAAAAARGH! Tiki: Zzzzzz... Oh, and before you leave... fetch a cloak to...lay over me... It's a bit chilly...down here... Zzzzzzzzzzzz... Avatar: Oh! Uh, right. Of course! Whatever you say, Tiki! (Avatar leaves) Tiki: Hee hee... Zzzzzz...

a real highlight is yet another Harvest Scramble quip, when Lucina suggests Tiki wear her childhood outfit for the festival and Tiki

jams herself into the clothing

for a twelve-year-old

Tiki: ...... Lucina: ...... Tiki: ...... Lucina: Tiki. I...I don't really know what to, uh... I'm sorry... Tiki: Yes, well, that's quite enough dress-up for now. Or ever. Lucina: I was so focused on faithfully re-creating the outfit you wore in the past, I... I suppose I failed to anticipate how silly children's clothes would look on an adult. Tiki: Silly? I think that was a far cry from just silly, Lucina. Did you never stop to wonder how I would even fit into clothes that small? Lucina: I'm so, so sorry... Although it WAS you who decided to force your way into them anyway... Tiki: What was that? Lucina: N-nothing! I said nothing...

BUT ALSO

Tiki: Good. Honestly, three millennia alive, and I've never been so humiliated. Lucina: I was just... You've lived in such a different world than us all the time. Even now that you're traveling with us, you seem so distant at times... I'd hoped to help close that distance, but I fear I've done the opposite. For that, I'm truly sorry, Tiki. Tiki: ...... You're wrong about that. Lucina: Come again? Tiki: Yes, the result was...less than ideal. But the fact that you were trying to treat me like a peer, as your equal... You didn't put me on a pedestal or treat me differently than the others. The costume was embarrassing, yes, but on the contrary, I feel...happy. Lucina: You... Really? Tiki: I do. It's...quite liberating. Thank you for that, Lucina. I've forgotten how wonderful human friendships can be, fleeting as they are. I shall endeavor to do what I can to grow closer to the others. And I hope you'll continue to introduce me to new firsts, good and bad alike.

LIKE... HOW CUTE!!!! she's spent SO much time as an object of devotion before anything else that she's kind of forgotten how to be social, and being with Chrom's army reminds her again, and she's really quick to be silly and stupid and sassy about it, and she kind of just relearn hope and optimism in that way, too—a really good example is YET AGAIN present in Harvest Scramble, where like, she's talking to Nowi and she talks about how the dead become stars and that's the afterlife, and she's always seen it all these years as her loved ones being just out of reach, and Nowi's like wow cool!!! it's like they're ALWAYS with you because you can always look up and see them and they see you!!!!!

and Tiki's like

holy shit

three thousand years of existence and this nevER OCCURRED TO ME

i’m gonna segue into talking about her conversations with Nah real quick, too, which are honestly some of her sweetest; Tiki calls Nah “dear” and such in a way she doesn’t with anyone else unless Morgan is her daughter. she’s quick to answer all Nah’s questions, takes a lot of delight in seeing the usually-reserved Nah all sparkly eyed and overjoyed about the harvest festival, and takes her under her wing in a way she doesn’t really with Nowi; Nowi doesn’t particularly care about all her various Manakete lineage, but Nah has so much she wants to know but doesn’t have the resources to figure out. Tiki is very honest with Nah, telling her the truth of her lineage, of immortality and the loneliness that comes with it, will be painful, and she’s frank about how much it’s hurt her in a way she isn’t, always? but i think this quip from their A-support really demonstrates the Big Thing about Tiki and her character growth:

Tiki: ...Hear me, Nah. Remember when I said I had to tell you something difficult? We manaketes are destined to suffer because of our love for humankind. Nah: Destined to...suffer? Tiki: We live for millennia, while humans flicker out like candles. The greatest friendship I ever knew lasted just a few short decades... And when King Marth died, I was left to wander the centuries alone. Nah: ...I see. I have to be prepared to lose everyone I love. Tiki: The dragon blood in your veins curses you to such a fate. Nah: ...Wow. That's...depressing. Tiki: it can be very sad, yes. But it can make you strong as well. You will learn to cherish the memories of those wonderful people you meet. You will make them a part of you so they can give you courage always. Nah: Like a family inside your mind? Tiki: Yes, exactly! You will be able to pass on the memories to your friends' children! And then to their children and to countless generations to come. In this way can you keep them alive through the long march of time. Nah: ...... Tiki: Do you understand? Nah: ...I think so. Tiki: Never allow your fate to dissuade you from living a full, rewarding life, Nah. You must go out into the world and seek out friends. ...Seek out love. And when their end comes, as it will, you must keep them alive forever. You have the gift of near immortality, and you must find a way to share it. And what better time to start than now? Nah, let you and I be friends.

anyway the real thesis statement of this whole thing is: i love Tiki because we get to see her transition from this overly energetic optimistic ball of friendship and sunshine and joy to someone much more jaded and quiet who fills the necessary role of oracle with reluctance. she's defined by her loneliness more than much else and she goes from afraid of it to resigned to it to kind of accepting its inevitability but relearning that joy and optimism to make the most of the time she DOES have and reintegrating herself with human society and friendship, and the juxtaposition of someone who knows she's going to lose everyone she loves again and again and again and again and has accepted and made a sort of sad peace with it, against that same someone deciding to wholeheartedly throw herself into those fleeting friendships and sometimes in the stupidest possible ways, is VERY GOOD

tl;dr I Love A Girl

[azrielsiphons]

Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same (ch. 2)

<< Previous Chapter   Next Chapter >>

This fic is meant to be read in connection with my Azriel-centric prequel stories. I would highly suggest reading those first to get the full reading experience of this fic. 

Make sure to reblog and leave comments and fun tags! I hope you guys like this chapter, this should help you guys get a feel for how Lena has changed over all these centuries. 

Enjoy! 

“They never told you my name?” Her voice hadn’t sounded so weak in almost five centuries. Feyre shook her head. “It’s… it’s Lena. My name is Lena.”

Feyre continued to stare, but smiled softly. Lena couldn’t find it within her to return it.

She pulled up her hood in one smooth motion, hiding her face once again as Tamlin and Lucien burst into the room.

“Feyre,” Tamlin gasped. He flinched at the sight of Lena — or rather, at the sight of Hybern’s nameless, faceless weapon he had only heard of — but strode to Feyre all the same, taking her face in his hands and checking her up and down. “The guards came running, they said you shouted my name. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Feyre could feel Lena roll her eyes from beneath her hood. Of course they would think the infamously powerful creature beneath the cloak was a man.

“Jurian is unconscious,” Lucien observed, his hand trembling slightly but hovering over his blade all the same as he stared at Lena. “You’re… him, then? The one the King sent?”

“He doesn’t speak, Lucien,” Tamlin snapped, continuing to check Feyre up and down.

“I’m fine, Tamlin.” Feyre pushed his hands away with just enough force. His eyes widened at her tone and she forced herself to play the part. “Jurian was… being facetious,” she said. “This man — or woman here, knocked him out. I was afraid so I called out for you and Lucien. But they didn’t touch me. Or speak to me. We just stood here.”

Tamlin growled, whirling on Lena. She only cocked her head to the side beneath her cloak.

“You will stay away from her,” he hissed. “You aren’t here for her, you’re here to keep an eye on him and the other two.” He jerked his head at Jurian on the ground. “You touch her, or even look at her or breathe near her, I will personally—”

Tamlin froze, his face turning red as Lena filled his lungs with night that knew no air. He made to lunge at her but his feet couldn’t leave the floor.

“What are you doing to him?” Lucien asked, paling. He pulled his sword but Lena only turned her head towards him lazily. “Let him go! Feyre.”

Feyre jumped, remembering the part she had to play. She had been so in awe at Lena’s powers — this really was Rhys’s sister. Only someone like him could do that to a High Lord and not even break a sweat.

“Please!” She cried out, rushing to Tamlin’s side. “Let him go, he didn’t mean anything by it, just let him go!”

Lena released Tamlin immediately at her High Lady’s words and Tamlin fell against Feyre, gasping for breath. His talons had emerged, and his face was full of rage.

“Why you little—”

He took a step forward only to freeze.

Smart move, Lena thought to herself. The only noise she made was a low, deep chuckle that sent chills down everyone’s spine.

Without another word, Lena walked right out of the dining room, making sure to bump Tamlin’s shoulder on the way out. She didn’t even glance back at him when he snarled loud enough that the entire manor shook.

“Well then,” Jurian spoke suddenly, sitting up with a groan and staring at the other three. “I see you’ve met the King’s secret weapon. They’re not very talkative.”

~~~~~

Lena could hear Feyre pacing in her chambers. The moon was high in the sky and that prick Tamlin was fast asleep in his room thinking the world would be alright now that his possession was back.

A twisted part of Lena would always be both grateful to and jealous of Tamlin for laying the killing blow on her father. All the same though, she hoped she had the chance to see Rhys kill him one day. It would be quite entertaining.

She stepped up to Feyre’s door silently — as she did everything since she was dead after all. After listening to Feyre pace for another minute or so she made her breathing just loud enough to be heard by the Cursebreaker. By her High Lady.

The door swung open not even a second later.

Lena’s hood was still up. Up until that day she had never taken it down or revealed her face on a mission except for one time.

A century and a half ago. On a terrible mission for the King to the Middle of Prythian where the worst beasts roamed. A group of Hybern extremists that the King had sanctioned were there torturing humans and trying to track beasts.

And then he had shown up...

Come in,” Feyre said softly, startling Lena out of her memories.

Lena nodded, stepping in silently. She only removed her hood when the door clicked shut behind them. A second later she had settled a noise cancelling shield around the entire room. Only when she was confident that they were completely concealed from the rest of the manor did Lena release a deep breath and roll out her shoulders. Feyre watched her carefully, cataloguing every movement.

“You’re staring,” Lena deadpanned, perching herself on the edge of the desk.

“How do you do that?” Feyre asked curiously. “Control two shields at once, I mean. I still can’t smell you so you must be in control of both. Isn’t that… taxing?”

Lena glanced around the room and grimaced at the decor. She reached out and flicked the fringe hanging from a lamp. “No.” She said simply. With the extent of her power, not much at all was taxing to her. “I’ve gotten so used to shielding my scent, I forget sometimes that I’m even doing it. I don’t want anyone to smell me and realize it’s so similar to—” She cut herself off, glancing at Feyre sidelong.

“Similar to Rhys’s scent,” Feyre finished for her. She gave Lena a smile and the genuine kindness in the gesture made Lena flinch and look away.

Feyre cleared her throat, playing with her hands nervously.

“You haven’t told anyone about me, have you?” Lena asked suddenly. “You haven’t used your bond with my brother and told him that I’m here? Or… who I am?”

“No,” Feyre said instantly. Lena released a relieved breath. “The bond doesn’t quite work like that with us at such a distance. It’s… hard to communicate. And something like this, telling him that his only remaining family is alive, well… that’s not exactly something I want to tell him without being there at his side.”

“You’re not going to tell him at all.”

Feyre blinked. “What?”

“You cannot,” Lena said with emphasis, “tell my brother that I am alive.”

“But… you revealed yourself to me,” Feyre argued.

“I did, and a part of me already regrets it,” Lena said simply. “You have no idea what I’m risking by showing you my face and telling you who I am to Rhys. And apparently, telling you my name.”

The bitter laugh that escaped her didn’t do much trying to cover Lena’s hurt. Feyre’s mouth parted in understanding, but she could only look down at the ground. She didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t pity me, Feyre,” Lena said suddenly. “I have accepted my lot in life and accepted it well and I will continue to do so in order to protect those that I love.”

“Well if you’re not planning on going home to those people you love, then—”

“That’s not what I said,” Lena smoothly interrupted.

Feyre stared. “So… you are trying to go back to the Night Court? To reveal yourself to them and escape the King?”

The smile that Lena gave was borderline feral. “Well considering that I’m face to face with the Cursebreaker herself, I think that you and I together might actually have a shot.” Feyre’s face broke out into a grin. “But I won’t risk it unless I’m absolutely sure it will work. If I think for even a second that this will fall through, you still can never tell them that I’m alive. You’re getting back to the Night Court no matter what Feyre, understand that well.”

“Yes, but—”

“I am guaranteed nothing and that’s alright,” Lena continued. “But Feyre, my first priority is getting you back to my brother. Back to m— back to your Court. If I can go with you, that would be… everything to me. But if I can’t, you have to swear to me you’ll never tell them that I am alive. Or you can just give me permission to wipe your mind of any memories of me.”

“No!” Feyre cried. “I can’t… Lena, you’re his sister. They deserve to know you’re alive. It will bring them so much joy and—”

“They never told you my name,” Lena snapped suddenly, darkness flaring out of her. Feyre froze. “Feyre, they… they never even told you my name.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “They’ve moved on. They survived, which is all I ever wanted for them. If I can’t get back to them, then at least let them keep surviving. They don’t need to be burdened with this knowledge and quite frankly it could get them killed.”

Feyre gulped. “Fine,” she said. “I give you permission to wipe my mind of any memories of you if whatever plan you have doesn’t work, but it doesn’t matter because it will work. I’m making sure that you get back to them, Lena. I swear it.”

Lena laughed humorlessly, but Feyre still caught the flash of real emotion on her beautiful face even if only for a moment.

“I can’t believe you’re my brother’s mate.”

“What? Why?” Feyre asked, slightly offended.

“Because he’s a colossal idiot and you seem to have a fairly smart head on your shoulders. And you’re much prettier than him.”

Feyre choked on her laughter. “I’m prettier than him? I think we might be talking about two different Rhysands.”

Lena shook her head. “Nope, same one, I’m sure of it. Tall, black hair, stupid arrogant face? That’s my brother.”

The two females laughed together until Lena froze, her smile turning into an expression full of sorrow.

“You know that’s the first time I’ve laughed in… almost 500 years.”

Feyre gasped softly, staring at the female that shared the same blood as her mate. Who had been stolen by evil itself after watching her own mother be killed right in front of her and then forced to stay away from her family to keep them safe. Who had done just that — and never wavered.

This was Rhys’s sister. And she had suffered more than anyone Feyre knew — more than herself exponentially.

Feyre was High Lady of the Night Court and she loved it more than anything in the world save for her mate. But Lena… she was the Night Court. It belonged to her first. Feyre couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for Lena to see this young female, only recently made High Fae, bear the tattoo that perhaps she herself had expected to wear one day.

Before Feyre even contemplated what she was doing and how Lena might perceive it, she was striding across the room and embracing her.

Lena tensed, arms at her sides in fists. A tear slipped from Feyre’s eye as she realized that this might very well be the first time Lena had been held or shown any real kindness in five centuries.

Lena cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you.”

“…Okay. Why?”

“Because I wanted to. And because you needed one.”

Lena didn’t say anything to that. Slowly, she raised her arms and gently patted Feyre on the back. But Feyre felt it, even if just for a second, the sigh that Lena let out.

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Lena said uncomfortably. Feyre pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “I know you’re my High Lady now, but could you warn me next time you want to do that?”

Feyre laughed and nodded. “Of course.”

“So do you have any… questions for me?” Lena asked cautiously, looking away from Feyre’s gaze. It had been a very long time since she had been vulnerable with anyone, but if there was anyone left in the world she could be herself with at that moment without endangering them, it was Rhys’s mate.

“I thought that you would be the one to have questions for me?” Feyre asked curiously.

“Of course. But none that I can ask you.”

Feyre’s face screwed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Just ask me any questions you have, Cursebreaker,” Lena said exasperatedly.

“First of all,” Feyre snapped, “don’t call me Cursebreaker anymore. My name is Feyre. We’re basically family now so call me my name.”

Lena flinched. “Alright, fine. Feyre. Ask whatever you want.”

Feyre bit her lip, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“How exactly are you not dead?”

“When Tamlin’s father killed my mother he had made a deal with the King of Hybern to steal me away on his behalf.”

“But Rhys said they delivered your heads in boxes.” Feyre gave an apologetic smile when Lena flinched. “Sorry.”

Lena waved her hand at the apology. “The King killed some innocent girl from my court and glamoured her intensely enough to somewhat resemble and smell like me. Rhys didn’t think to look twice.”

“And your wings? Rhys said they were somewhere in this house—”

“Different question.”

Feyre blinked. “What?”

Lena’s power flared once again, but remained in the confines of the room’s shield. “I said, ask a different question.” Her tone left no room for argument. Feyre swallowed.

“Okay. Well, you’re clearly powerful.”

Lena smirked, her anger gone in an instant. “Clearly.”

“How did Hybern keep you trapped? You have all of that power and you couldn’t get away from him at all?”

Lena’s face fell, transforming into what could only be described as pure rage and bitterness. And a hint of sorrow.

“The King has been putting me to sleep anywhere from a few weeks to a few decades at a time whenever he doesn’t have use of me,” she said simply, her hands shaking. “He uses ancient magic-cancelling chains to keep me secure—”

“I’ve seen those,” Feyre interrupted. Lena blinked in shock. “I’ve seen them, Hybern’s men used them on Rhys once. There are more?”

Lena’s eyes flashed then and stroms seemed to rise behind her violet. She took a deep breath, calming herself down before her magic could escape the room. Feyre held her breath, releasing it only when Lena spoke again.

“Many more,” she said. “Whenever the King needed me for something, he would wake me up. Send me on an... errand or two. Then back to sleep for me.”

“And those times when you were awake you couldn’t escape?” Feyre asked. Lena glared.

“Judgmental much?”

“I’m just trying to understand how the sister of one of the most honorable people I know just held herself back and didn’t at least try to get back to her family.” Feyre paused, expecting Lena to lash out at her, but she didn’t, only waited for Feyre to continue. “I wasn’t even alive when your mother died, or when Rhys thought that you died. But the sorrow that he has now over you… it must have been infinitely worse in the beginning. He had to become High Lord all on his own after losing you, your mother, and your father.”

Lena looked away. “You don’t know anything,” she said softly, almost inaudibly.

“I know enough,” Feyre hissed. Lena’s eyes flashed once again. Feyre was walking a fine line. “There must have been something — something that you could have done, could have tried.”

“There wasn’t.”

“All that power of yours and you couldn’t even send a message? Write a note?”

“It was impossible.”

“Why?” Feyre shouted.

“Because if I did then he would die!”

Lena had moved so fast Feyre hadn’t seen it, the female’s scarred face right in front of her own. Feyre’s breath caught in her throat and in the back of her mind she realized that Lena’s eyes were a shade darker than Rhys’s.

“Rhys?” Feyre asked softly. “Rhys would die?”

Lena froze for a split second before jerking away, turning her back on Feyre.

“I’ve been willing to do whatever it takes to protect my family and my Court for almost five centuries,” she stated simply. “I’ve done things that you could not possibly imagine. It has wrecked the very essence of my soul and I have learned how to accept that about myself. But I have kept my family safe. The best that I can.”

“You weren’t keeping him safe when he was trapped under that mountain with her,” Feyre snapped. She regretted the words the moment she said them. “I’m sorry, I—”

Lena silenced Feyre, whirling on her. “What do you mean?”

“When… when he was with Amarantha.”

“What do you mean with Amarantha?” Lena was in Feyre’s face once again. “I was only woken by the King a day ago. I was put to sleep right after Amarantha drugged all of the High Lords, what — what did she do?” Feyre was silent, her mouth agape as she searched for the words. Lena grabbed her by the shoulders roughly. “Feyre what did she do?”

“She made him her whore,” Feyre spat, her voice barely more than a whisper. Lena went completely still. Everything in the room froze — even the dust particles in the air came to a halt. A tear slipped down Feyre’s face. “She confined him to her bedroom, made him…” She took in a shaky breath. “He was playing a part, he played along to try and win her trust, to keep Velaris safe. He had erased everyone’s memory of the city, kept it completely safe. He used the last of his powers and charged the protection of Velaris to Mor, Amren, Cassian, and Azr—”

Lena finally reacted then, pushing away from Feyre and bracing herself against the desk, gasping. She clutched at her chest, squinting her eyes tightly shut.

“Don’t,” she choked out. “Don’t say his name.”

“Who?” Feyre asked, running to Lena’s side. “I don’t understand, Lena. Cassian? Az—”

“I said don’t,” Lena hissed, whirling back on Feyre, who stumbled away at the sheer rage on her face. A beat passed and that look transformed to one of pure sorrow — and longing. Silver lined her violet eyes. “Please don’t, I can’t… I just can’t.”

Feyre didn’t understand what was there. What the sound of Azriel’s name did to Lena, but she nodded all the same. Lena slumped in relief, softly murmuring her thanks.

“There are a great many things you don’t know,” Lena whispered, leaning her back against the wall before sliding to the floor. Feyre gingerly moved to sit beside her. “And if I somehow, by the Mother’s grace, make it back to the Night Court with you, I will tell you every story there is to tell about my family and I. But until then,” she turned and looked Feyre dead in the eye, “you must swear to me that you will never tell them who I am.”

“I already—”

“I know you already did,” Lena interrupted. “But I need you to understand, Feyre. I don’t care if my brother himself has a sword at my throat, you can never tell them who I am. You must let me be the one to tell them.”

“Why?” Feyre asked softly. “Why keep them in the dark?”

“Because it will destroy them,” Lena said simply. “If they find out that I’ve been the King’s prisoner all these centuries, forced to kill and torture and kidnap, it would wreck them. They never even thought to look for me because they assumed they received my head in a box. No, I need to be the one to reveal myself to them if I’m given the chance. They need to see my face and hear it from my own mouth that I’m still alive. Do you swear that to me, Feyre? That you will let me do it?”

Feyre hesitated, but nodded. “I swear.”

“Thank you.”

The two females sat side by side, staring out the window at the moon.

“So you were really in love with Tamlin?” Lena asked suddenly. “Before you met my brother?”

Feyre sighed, but nodded. “I think I fell out of love with Tamlin when he locked me in this house. I didn’t fall in love with your brother until—”

“Wait, wait,” Lena interrupted, whirling on Feyre. “He locked you up?” She asked incredulously.

“Yes, that was when Rhys came and took me to the Night Court apart from our bargain, when I decided to stay. Well actually Mor was the one who came and saved me, but—”

“Okay stop,” Lena cut her off once again. “Clearly I have gotten some misinformation — I’m going to need you to start from the beginning. With details, please.”

And so Feyre did. She told Lena the whole story — the real story. She respectfully avoiding using his name, but Lena’s eyes flashed with sorrow every time Azriel was alluded to all the same. And when the story was done, Lena loosed a heavy breath and leaned her head back against the wall.

“So the Suriel was really the one who told you that you and Rhys were mates?”

Feyre chuckled. “Yes.”

“Figures. And now you’re here, and you’re all pretending that Rhys manipulated your mind to get you to stay in the Night Court and the King successfully broke your mating bond.”

“Also yes.”

Lena huffed. “When I see my stupid brother, I’m going to smack him so hard.”

“For not telling me about the mating bond?”

Lena scoffed at that. “Well I can’t exactly yell at him for that when—” She froze, shaking her head as if to clear out unwanted thoughts. “No, I’m going to smack him for everything else. That idiot has always believed he has to sacrifice himself for everyone all the time.”

“Well it seems to me like that’s a family trait,” Feyre shot back softly, looking at Lena to gauge her reaction.

Lena only laughed, bumping Feyre’s knee with her own. “You know what I take it back. I definitely believe that you’re my brother’s mate.”

~~~~~

Azriel shot up with a gasp, groaning at the lingering pain in his chest. Mor and the other healers had gotten all of the poison out of his system days ago, but the lingering effects made the healing process much slower. 

With a glance to his left, he loosed a breath of relief that Cassian was still fast asleep. His brother lay on his stomach, wings stretched out behind him with coats of healing salve on the membrane. He swallowed as he remembered once again how Cassian had sacrificed his own wings to save him.

With a grunt, Azriel hauled himself out of the bed, pausing as he waited to see if the healers heard him moving. When he believed the coast was clear, he walked slowly to the open window. 

He breathed in deeply, wincing as his chest expanded. But he needed to smell the air, to smell Velaris, to smell home. 

He hadn’t had a nightmare like that in decades. Since before Rhys had been taken Under the Mountain. They came sporadically, sometimes months apart, sometimes decades apart, but he could always count on them to happen. 

He would see her face. Lena’s face. Peaceful, asleep, as beautiful as ever as she lay at his side. And just as he would reach out to touch her, it would explode in flames. The floor would give way beneath them and she would scream, reaching out for him.

But he never caught her. He failed her every time. 

Azriel shut his eyes even tighter, blocking out the sound of her screams still ringing in his ears. Some days he wished he could just forget her altogether, but then the guilt would eat him alive.

He didn’t want to forget her. He just wanted the pain to be gone, he wanted to finally heal. It had been centuries since he had lost her. Since they all had lost her. And while he loved Feyre and was glad she was part of their Court and his High Lady... she wasn’t Lena.

Azriel would never forgive himself for the slightest bit of resentment he felt that the first High Lady of Prythian was Feyre and not Lena. She was supposed to be the one to have brought real change. She was supposed to be the one that broke down barriers and made a way for love and kindness and dreams to prevail. That was supposed to have happened 500 years ago with him at her side, or at the very least watching her from afar and holding her hand all the while. 

But she had died instead. The Cauldron had taken her, deigned the world better off without Lena in it. And that was something Azriel simply couldn’t accept, it was the reason he didn’t pray to the Cauldron anymore. 

He looked up at the moon and hoped that somewhere in whatever life comes after death, Lena was perhaps thinking of him too. 

~~~~~

After leaving Feyre’s rooms, Lena stepped outside of the Spring Court manor silently, the guards jumping as the infamous Hybern weapon appeared without a sound or scent. She laughed to herself at their fear and didn’t spare them a second glance. 

She made her way through the gardens with a grimace. She hated flowers. 

Well out of sight from any of the guards, she tilted her face to the sky. The only thing that gave her comfort anymore. Because no matter where she was, no matter what horrors she faced or was forced to commit, the sky remained constant. It was the same sky he looked at. 

And as she stared up at the stars and the moon, she hoped that wherever he may be, Azriel was perhaps thinking of her too.