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bonefall · 5 months

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BB!Nightcloud

Nightcloud Woobification Army ASSEMBLE.

There's actually very little canon information on Nightcloud outside of how her ex-mate deflects blame onto her, which she is notoriously demonized for. So for Better Bones, I've cooked up a backstory from scratch! I feel this character deserves to exist outside of her romantic relationship, y'know?

Make sure to check the BB!WindClan Family Tree if you recognize any of the repurposed Missing Kits!

Clanmew Name: Oogarhai (The period of time where the sun has set + fat cloud) Official nickname: Nico (NIghtClOud), Oogi (OOGarhaI)

Alignment: WindClan

Relationships: Ex-mate - Crowfeather Child - Breezepelt Family (all deceased) - Hillrunner (Mi), Downwind (aunt, bio-mother), Tawnyfur (sister), Crowfur (grandparent) Mentor - Addersong

Nightcloud is a controversial warrior of WindClan, and also among its largest, strongest cats. She continuously finds herself tangled up in nearly every massive conflict since the day they arrived at the lake, with only some of these events being things she ever had a choice to be involved in.

Though she yearns for a more peaceful life, her violent, stressful childhood following the WindClan Massacre carved deep distrust of outsiders into her bones. It lead her to the lowest point in her life, fighting for Mudclaw during the WindClan Civil War. The following years of distrust, Crowfeather's mistreatment, and the abuse towards her son, Breezepelt, made much of Nightcloud's life lonely and stressful.

In spite of that, she absolutely adores her son and stands by his side no matter what. After the secret that Crowfeather sired kits with a ThunderClan Cleric is revealed and he is banished for a few moons for dramatic, codebreaking behavior at the reveal, a "spell" that he cast over WindClan begins to lift. In his absence, Nightcloud is able to truly begin fixing her reputation.

Though Breezepelt still has a way to fall as a new POV in BB!AVoS, where his treatment as a Dark Forest trainee drives him to join Darktail's cult, Nightcloud's life begins to turn around after her mateship with Crowfeather crumbles. After participating in a secret plan to rescue her boy and several Kin members under the command of her future leader and son-in-law, Harespring, she is solidified as one of the most powerful fighters in the entire Clan and occupies a lofty position as one of its most reliable brawlers.

She's also developing a friendship with Willowclaw about it, which is neat.

Glossary

Upbringing

WindClan Civil War

Mateship & Abuse

Breezepelt and BB!AVoS

Trivia and Misc

Upbringing

The Mothermouth Moorland War came to a cruel and bloody quietus at the claws of Brokenstar's ShadowClan, ending a three-generation long conflict with an event called the WindClan Massacre. Along with the rest of their Clan, a pair of twins was forced into exile; Downwind and Hillrunner.

They looked out for each other, and ferociously protected the tattered Clan while living in the Tangle of Thunderpaths. It was hard, but they had each other and that was enough.

After Bluestar's champion, Fireheart, fetched WindClan to bring them home, Downwind soon gave birth to her first litter. A pair of sisters; one of them practically a little copy of her mother... and the other one who looked hilariously nothing like anyone in their family. The twin girls were named Nightkit, and Tawnykit.

They'd barely settled in before Nightstar and Crookedstar turned on them, attacking to try and drive them out AGAIN. If it wasn't for Bluestar and her reinforcements, ThunderClan's charity, they might have succeeded.

But this time, Downwind refused to run. Hillrunner saw her twin, limp, red, and ragged outside the nursery. The kits were too young to remember her, or to understand the significance of their new Mi's anguished cries that night. They came so far together, only for Hillrunner to lose her other half in the place where things were supposed to get better.

NOTE: On adopting the kits, Hillrunner is then considered their "Mi," a primary parent in Clan culture. Her biological relation as the aunt is superseded.

Nightkit and Tawnykit only knew Hillrunner as their Mi. They only know that Downwind was identical to her-- except for a scar across Hiller's nose.

Hillrunner was notoriously short tempered, paranoid, and easily offended. She shouldn't have been raising kits alone, but what choice did she have?

She was CONVINCED that she'd failed Downwind that day, and that something could have been done to avoid the WindClan Massacre. So she was dedicated to making sure her own kits were better prepared.

They knew the whole territory by heart by their 6th moon, and even major abandoned tunnels below the moor

Most apprentices don't learn how to differentiate individual warriors out of scent marks until a moon or two into training. Night and Tawny knew it before they became 'paws.

Ever trying to ask a question, or tell Hillrunner that they didn't want to do something, was "backtalk;" argue too much and she would hit them with a punishment.

Punishments, "lessons," were usually strenuous physical tasks, like doing laps, moving large objects, or being made to carry a stone in the mouth for hours.

The sort of thing, in hindsight, was probably meant to be a sort of "cover"... the Clan thought the 'Lessons' were harsh but 'understandable'. No one would step in.

If Hillrunner was angry though, she would also just straightup smack them. She was less creative when she was in a mood.

As an adult, Nightcloud will tell you how messed up it used to be... but sometimes she preferred when Hillrunner was moody. If she got hit, the creative "lesson" wouldn't be applied to Tawnykit too.

Because Nightkit got in trouble more often than Tawnykit, there was a sort of sour resentment between them, mixed in with the unbreakable sense of solidarity.

Tawnykit: "You got US in trouble. But no one else in the world knows what we're going through. I love you. I'm going to take this out on you when we're alone. I can't believe you did this to me, I can't believe our Mi did this to us. Can't you try harder?? We did nothing wrong. Why am I paying for YOUR mistakes?"

Hillrunner says she, "Just wants you to be safe. ShadowClan won't hit you with their claws sheathed! This is what real life is like! If you'd just LISTEN to me you'd know this is for your own good!"

The little family was "close," in the way that mice tied together at the tail are close, even as they desperately pull at the knot and gnaw at each other's flesh.

Hillrunner convinced them the world was terrifying, that they couldn't entirely rely on their clanmates, and the most important thing in life is Gan, blood-family.

"The ONLY ones who will turn out for you, who you can rely on, who will be there until the end, is your family. The only way you'll lose us is if you're not strong enough, and I'll make you strong. I promised. You'll see!"

When she finally became Nightpaw, Hillrunner continued to try and have control over her... but the new mentor, Addersong, would not be bullied. And he would not let his apprentice get pushed around either.

He taught Nightpaw that now that she was an apprentice, she was free to make her own choices.

If she needed him around when she confronted Hillrunner, he would be there.

And if she needed to be the one to do that alone, he would support that too.

But on one condition; he would never tolerate someone speaking down to his apprentice in front of him. THAT is a matter of his pride. Capiche?

That was a term she could handle.

She had always known that she didn't want to be like Hillrunner, and that one day she'd be free of all the torment she was put through, but Addersong was the one who showed her the way out. Protected her when others didn't.

It gave her a sense of newfound confidence, and freedom. Like maybe the world WASN'T so terrible after all. And maybe... there's people out here who are kinder and more loving than she was ever allowed to believe.

And then, Hillrunner died in a TigerClan attack

And she began to wonder if it was HER fault when Tawnyfur fell to BloodClan

And suddenly Addersong's lessons felt far away. And maybe that was a good thing.

Hillrunner tried to teach her that family, KIN, was the most important thing in the world, and Nightcloud began to reject that. And now they are all dead.

She didn't appreciate them enough while they were alive. And now they are gone.

So... she pushed Addersong away. He figured she needed space to mourn.

WindClan Civil War

While Addersong was composing Tiger's In A Heap with his buddies and others were baking Tiger-shaped tunnelbuddies to welcome relations with BloodClan, Nightcloud was joining the group that was critical of the decision.

Especially when Snapper and Leo-- sorry. They call themselves Snappaw and Brushpaw. When those two joined the Clan. Ex-BloodClan traders. Not to mention Pigeonflight's... charge, also acquired from BloodClan

Nightcloud felt like she was the only one who remembered that they fought BloodClan. That Clan cats died in that battle.

Until she found others, echoing the same feelings she did, and more.

Mudclaw was the most legitimate member of the group, organizing this group of cats with "concerns."

Those "concerns" started having weight when things began to sour in the Moor. The poisoning, the Mothermouth's collapse and the death of Barkface and his apprentice, Blackfur... eventually a warrior, Runningbrook, was SHOT by a human as if she was a grouse.

Someone called the two apprentices "jinxes," pointing out the bad luck they'd brought to them, and it stuck.

But Tallstar did nothing. Didn't listen to the concerns, and insisted that Snapper and L-- Snappaw and Brushpaw, that they were part of the Clan now.

Eventually they were all forced out of their home, and sent on a journey following Crowfoot and the other Chosen cats to a new land. Tallstar just continued to look weaker and weaker.

All around Nightcloud (and the cats who would eventually become the Rebels), the Journey was uniting the Clans in a way that was never seen before. Apprentices were trying out ancient recipes that had been untouched for generations. Warriors from WindClan were helping to carry kits from ShadowClan.

It was terrifying. It felt WRONG. It filled her with a sense of deep dread and unease. No one was enforcing the boundaries that made the four groups into Clans.

When they arrived at the lake, what would HAPPEN there? Would there even BE a WindClan? Or would they just get lured into forming the new TigerClan?

Through all of this... Mudclaw seemed strong, and sure of what needed to happen next. He was certainly more of a leader than the feeble Tallstar, who had allowed the jinxes to follow along on the Great Journey.

So when Tallstar was allegedly on his deathbed, and mysteriously swapped his deputy to Onewhisker, Nightcloud was one of the very first to call foul play.

It felt like an awful betrayal, to know that Firestar, one of the FEW cats outside of WindClan that Hillrunner spoke fondly of, could be trying to pull the wool over their eyes.

But just LOOK at the other witness-- Brambleclaw. Son of Tigerstar. This was a PLOT, and Onewhisker should be ashamed of himself!

Mudclaw jumped at the opportunity Nightcloud presented.

But... the newly honored Crowfeather came forth too, to calm the tension.

"Brambleclaw is a LOT of things and untrustworthy isn't one of them," Yet, he put up a smokey-black paw when his friend's eyes lit up, "But a change in deputy? To Onewhisker, of all cats?"

Onewhisker: "no offense, right? ...right?"

"So if no one here is lying, then Tallstar's brain fell out on the way here and I'm not going on ANOTHER journey to look for it. Mudclaw is the rightful leader of WindClan."

His endorsement of Mudclaw sent the Clan reeling. His own mother, Ashfoot, came forth to argue against her son, and his aunt Morningflower pointed out that Mudclaw was his mentor.

OF COURSE the two jinxes also argued in favor of Onewhisker. Leo had even joined in the first place because he wanted to be with him.

The compromise that the Clans reached, at ThunderClan's treacherous suggestion, was that they would wait until StarClan could sort the matter out and confirm the rightful leader.

But of COURSE ThunderClan felt like they could wait for StarClan. THEY had two Clerics, Leafstripe and Cinderpelt.

In the meanwhile, the Clan started to split in two. Those who were backing the feeble Onewhisker, and those who were supporting the powerful, charismatic Mudclaw.

Nightcloud refused to allow her Clan to fall into the claws of ThunderClan's ambition. WindClan could not be allowed to be seen as WEAK. Weakness invites invasions. Invasion invites death.

Not everyone that joined Mudclaw's side of the rebellion believed that ThunderClan was lying. Crowfeather believed it was the truth. Mudclaw himself did as well, though he didn't discourage beliefs that benefited him.

Nightcloud absolutely did believe that ThunderClan lied. And that cats outside of the Clan can't be trusted.

...and then.

Mudclaw started working with non-WindClan cats, namely Hawkfrost. The rebels were joined by reinforcements, given quiet support and aid, handed the knowledge that they would have extra backup if things got violent.

At first, Nightcloud was one of the most vehemently opposed to them.

At first.

But... Hawkfrost has some good points about all of the Clans needing to be strong and independent.

And he's right, that; "ThunderClan's plotting won't stop with one Clan. Tigerstar came from ThunderClan, after all."

And, if things go wrong... they will need the extra claws. They couldn't fight against the remainers alone.

"Hold on, who says we'll be fighting anything?"

Wide, innocent blue eyes, "You can't believe that ThunderClan will just let the word of StarClan shine through, can you?"

He's... reasonable. He's right.

So, in the BLINK of an eye, she and Crowfeather were surrounded by Thistle Law supporters. OPEN ones.

And Mudclaw himself didn't seem to mind all that much.

For Nightcloud, it was too late to have doubts, especially when Hawkfrost's lie made such perfect sense. When the Moonpool was discovered by that THUNDERCLAN Cleric, Leafstripe, Honored by the new name Leafpool, that was the last push she needed to ride into battle with Mudclaw.

ThunderClan had to be stopped at ALL COSTS before they installed a fake, sniveling little mouse to do all of their bidding. If Onewhisker had to die to prevent it?

Then... so be it.

They created a plan. Onewhisker was organizing WindClan to carry out a Muirburn, a carefully controlled fire to return the territory to heathland.

They would sabotage it, and throw him into the same fire meant to cleanse their new home. It would be symbolic, practically religious in its righteousness.

But CROWFEATHER betrayed them. Bolted to his friends in ThunderClan, that daughter-of-Firestar and the Tigerkin liar.

During the battle, Nightcloud leapt on Leo and went for a ferocious bite to the back of the neck. She was ripped off by another warrior just in time, taking a chunk of his scruff with her.

It gave him a permanent, gnarly scar. A reminder to Nightcloud of how close she came to killing him, and how much she hated such a kindhearted tom.

The tide of battle turned as the ThunderClan reinforcements came behind Crowfeather. In that instant, it was as if StarClan had torn open the sky, and the heavens were bleeding rain upon the burning moor.

Nightcloud fled along with the other rebels, and bore witness to StarClan's smiting of the false idol.

With a clap of lightning, a tree from the Gathering Island toppled down, crushing Mudclaw beneath it.

She stopped running, staring in breathless awe. The rain washed away the mud and the ash that clung to her pelt, and for the first time in moons, she felt like her mind was clear.

It was like, for a brief moment, the song of fear and anger behind her eyes forgot the lyrics, leaving her with cold reality.

"What have I DONE?"

That sabotaged Muirburn was one of the most short-sighted, cruel, evil things she can imagine any cat taking part in... but at first, her regret was just in the amount of destruction it had caused, not in the ideology she'd fought to defend.

The heinous act had caused the peat below the moor to catch on fire, and WindClan was playing Whack-A-Mole with the various little blazes that kept popping up in the area; and THAT was what initially made her regret her role in the Civil War.

But... she had to work next to Snapstorm and Brushblaze, just like any other Clanmates. Pigeonflight's daughter had also come into her own, Cranberrysplash. And ThunderClan continued to send aid to help with the reckless disaster she'd been part of.

She still grappled with a strong, immediate distrust of strangers... but it was tempered by the sobering realization she had while watching Mudclaw die.

And the shame, knowing that she'd been taking out her grief of losing Tawnyfur and Hillrunner on all these innocent cats.

Onewhisker's lenience... was mercy. All along.

She tried to punish herself for ever criticizing her new leader for "weakness." WindClan needed all the paws it could get to fight the fires and continue to feed the Clan, and Onestar was the cat who understood that.

He showed unfathomable kindness and wisdom by giving her and the other rebels no punishment.

She vowed to atone for it. She would not waste her second chance.

Nightcloud had been so busy trying to make up for what she'd done, fighting fires, building dens, and carefully rotating hunts to manage the prey populations that she barely registered that she didn't see much of Crowfeather after the night of the Muirburn.

While WindClan was gossiping, she was largely left out of the loop for being distrusted at the time.

When he came back, they started spending a lot of time together.

Mateship & Abuse

She liked Crowfeather. They'd been in each other's orbit since the Civil War, and she admired his judgement at nearly every turn. Mudclaw seemed like a good choice for a lot of people, but Crowfeather had seen when his true colors started to show. He made a truly heroic choice at the end. So when he expressed interest in her, it felt like she was going to be his next good call.

Nightcloud had so, so much to prove.

In spite of his absence, Crowfeather was a hero to the Clan. The warrior blessed by StarClan to bring them to their new home, a land of a thousand more stars, he who betrayed the traitors.

And in spite of that. He had a loneliness. He requested a name to honor the cat of another Clan, a lover he had lost on his mission

He is loud, passionate, and yet there seemed to be a niche in his heart he wanted to fill.

So... she wanted to be his missing piece, in service of the great love that binds a Clan together. To help him.

To prove she could mean something to someone, and be trusted in turn by a Clan that, rightfully, looked at her with suspicion.

but she didn't LOVE him so much as she RESPECTED him.

and he never saw her as much more than an in-Clan replacement for Leafpool, especially while he was secretly reeling from her dumping him and cancelling their elopement plans.

It didn't really strike her that they were mutually using each other; Crowfeather to affirm his loyalty to the Clan, and Nightcloud to prove she could love and be loved.

And neither of them were even accomplishing that. But, there's a difference between them.

While Nightcloud was trying, GOD she was trying... Crowfeather quickly grew frustrated that she was a person, and not just the perfect image of the "true love" that Feathertail and Leafpool would have given to him

So he started FINDING things to criticize about her. Reasons that he could use to justify why it's not HIS fault he's not happy, but hers.

She's clingy. She's too cold. She's less attractive when she's carrying their child. She's too demanding when she tells him to help out with the kit.

NOTHING she did was right, and meanwhile, even when Breezekit was young, Crowfeather was an awful Ba.

Depending on his mood, he was either too rough or too distant, a dichotomy he used to describe as Nightcloud being unable to make up her mind. Does she want him to help, or does she want space??

Problem is, you can't be fair with unfair people. When Crowfeather would say ANY of this, she would try to take his words in good faith

And Breezekit's formative moons were spent watching his mother twist herself in knots, trying to avoid whatever his father was complaining about that week.

But it NEVER satisfied him. It never COULD.

and worst of all...

Whenever she DID fight back, dragged down into explosive arguments after biting her tongue again and again, Crowfeather would ALWAYS bring up Feathertail. She's dead, and so Nightcloud could never defeat this ideal, NONEXISTENT image of this nearly perfect hypothetical lover that he could have had.

Crow: "And YOU don't even care. You CUT me, Nightcloud! I am being flayed and left to DIE from infection, and you don't even care."

Night: "Of course i care, I'm here aren't i?? Feathertail loved you, but I do too! And I'M in YOUR Clan, in case you haven't NOTICED."

Crow: "Oh you love me do you? I don't think you do. There's a reason I loved Feathertail enough to be so tempted away from my Clan, but YOU'RE such an awful person that YOU happily did ARSON."

Night: "I... I wasn't-"

Crow: "Wasn't trying to betray your Clan? Wasn't trying to make me feel like some kind of animal?? What WERE you trying to do, then?"

Night: "I've ALWAYS tried to make up for what I did, I was trying to-"

Crow: "To WHAT? To hurt me? Like you always do? All I wanted was you to see that I'm-"

Night: "Can you cut it out?! I wanted-"

Crow: "STOP Interrupting me, this is exactly what I mean! Feathertail NEVER made me feel this way, she would let me finish and listen to everything I have to say before trying to jump in. WHAT have I done wrong exactly? What IS it this time?? Hm???"

Night: "I-- Crowfeather I'm trying! I didn't mean to make you feel that way, and I'm not trying to fight. I just don't know what you want from me, I'm-"

Crow: "I say it over and over and over!! Are you stupid? I should have been with a rabbit, at LEAST it would have given me faster children!"

Night: "Can you stop being a CHILD for a minute and TELL me what you want me to do? In simple terms? Or is that just too much?"

Crow: "Fine. But im not going to repeat myself again. I don't deserve this, you're lucky I'm gracious."

When Breezekit became Breezepaw, Nightcloud had lost patience with this treatment. She still tried to be gentle with Crowfeather, but he was starting to force her into making a choice; Was she going to protect her son? Or was she going to keep endlessly trying to appease her husband?

In her head... SHE might "deserve" it. She knows she's "difficult." And that a lot of the things Crowfeather says about her are "true"

And if she's lonely, she "brought it on herself" by doing awful things. That's why she tries so hard to atone for them.

But Breezepaw is her BABY, and Crowfeather makes him feel like a little brat. Yells at him, finds reasons to pick on him, gives him the cold shoulder when he's done wrong...

At first, it looked like overprotectiveness, because she was often shoving herself between Breezepaw and his father, never backing up Crowfeather when he was punishing their son, and "downplaying" her son's rude behavior.

In reality, those were the actions of someone who was trying to prevent arguments from turning into abuse.

Those were things HILLRUNNER used to do with her, though at the time, she didn't realize that Crowfeather was in the same positions that her Mi had once been in

In fact, she continued to grapple with the deep feelings of shame, that she might be like Hillrunner when she was trying so hard to be different.

But the truth remained, that she recognized the same patterns that she was forced to be hyperaware of, and was trying to stop them before they escalated.

It took MANY years, well into Breezepelt's adulthood, AND well into her divorce, before she realized that.

Protecting her son was as reflexive as a hunting crouch. It was just something she did.

Unfortunately, Crowfeather was the one with power in this situation. And his immense sway was palpable. If he vented to a Clanmate about how hard it was to have a mate who undermines him and a son who defied him, they'd believe him.

So, Breezepelt started getting written off as "a problem kid" by the adults.

What changed... was Hollyleaf's reveal at that fateful Gathering.

She had been desperately trying to "atone" for what she'd done for years, guilty and shameful that she'd been complicit in an attack that had gotten cats killed and set the peat on fire. She kept proving herself, over and over, as Crowfeather held his love for an outsider up over her head.

And then she finds out he was HIDING this from her, ALL THIS TIME. There'd been ANOTHER MOLLY from another Clan she was being compared to.

Unlike canon; Crowfeather knew. He didn't need to be told. Hollyleaf looks just like his father Deadfoot. Lionblaze has his tail tip. Jayfeather is a miserable git.

They were born 2 months after Leafpool left him, choosing her Clan and her CLERIC FRIEND over HIM. He isn't stupid.

Emotions ran high and, right in front of his wife, at a PUBLIC GATHERING, he made another love confession to Leafpool. That she never should have abided her vow because she belonged with HIM.

Leafpool was fucking mortified. On top of her life crumbling as the secret was revealed, she was undergoing the cat equivalent of being cornered in a public space as an unwanted ex begs you to acknowledge your LOVE.

Leafpool is completely and utterly out of love for Crowfeather, not a SINGLE flicker of it left in her heart, but NIGHTCLOUD felt like Leafpool's tears were because she missed Crowfeather soooo much.

And after YEARS of being compared to FEATHERTAIL, only to find out she was being contrasted to LEAFPOOL all along??

And that Crowfeather really WOULD just break the code for any OTHER lover? Even "a treacherous, vow-breaking, abominable little [cat meow censor] FROM ANOTHER CLAN?"

AND A CLERIC?????

YEARS of trying to unlearn bigotry, keeping lessons about unity kept close in spite of the growing tensions between the Clans, having an open mind towards the people she'd unfairly judged, trying to atone for following Mudclaw... What's the point??

She was humiliated, embarrassed, scandalized. For moons she'd tried to appease him, and then he goes after HER SON, and then DOES THIS.

But something was different.

Onestar had enough of Crowfeather and his shenanigans.

By making a fool of himself at that Gathering, he made a fool of the WHOLE Clan.

Not only did he sire kittens with a Cleric, in a half-clan relationship, vanishing for a week to go on a holiday as the Clan was fighting peat fires, but he didn't even have the decency to NOT TELL AN ENTIRE GATHERING THAT HE DOESN'T REGRET IT.

Onestar snapped.

CrowFEATHER is an Honor Title. CrowFOOT was in respect to his deceased father, Deadfoot.

These names are both too honorable.

And even a DISHONOR Title is too good for this sort of behavior.

If he cannot behave like a Clan cat, then he WILL NOT BE ONE.

For one moon, Crow, no suffix, just Crow, would live on his own in total exile.

It was such a scandal that Nightcloud was horrified. The whole Clan had turned to look to her, see what she would do, desperate to know how she was reacting and what she would do next.

But... their tune changed.

They weren't looking at her like Crowfeather's ungrateful mate. They were curious about her judgement.

CrowFEATHER had convinced so many people that Nightcloud had been the problem, with his immense sway and influence.

But what he did was shocking and abhorrent to WindClan. Now he is just Crow, a rogue on the border.

And Nightcloud is as reliable as she always has been.

What really causes Crowfeather to begin to change here in BB, is that when he comes back... nearly everyone has been better off without him.

After a moon, Crow came back thinking that Nightcloud would snarl at him, or they'd fight, or she'd weep, or... something negative.

But instead, she greeted him. Cordially. Casually. With the tiniest little lilt to her tone that you only hear when you're forced to welcome someone you dislike.

For the rest of BB!OotS, they were together but... distantly. If it wasn't totally over, it was visibly dying.

They had a few more fights, public spats, but now that the Clan didn't seem to have Crowfeather's back...

He started to lose his nerve, and she stopped feeling terrible for things that happened long ago.

Now WindClan was following Nightcloud's lead on Crowfeather. When she was gracious, so were they. When she was pushed to snapping, they saw him like the unreasonable one.

But, honestly? That attention made Nightcloud uncomfortable.

She disliked the sway she now seemed to have over her ex-mate's reputation. She hated him and everything he did, especially in the few times that he would STILL try to deflect blame onto her, but... wielding that kind of social sway, after being an outsider for so long, it felt heavy and toxic in her belly.

Between OotS and AVoS, she realized that she's not like him. He reveled in the spotlight and influence he had over the Clan as a result of his power, adored attention and drama and being able to command it. Crowfeather would complain that life was so unfair, but he ENJOYED how the rules were applied so loosely to him, and how well he was treated because of the pain he'd gone through.

She doesn't.

In fact, she even resents the finicky opinions of her Clanmates. That earning their respect, in the end, was something she had absolutely no control over. She'd gone through so much for so long and so very few cats had ever had her back, and to be vindicated now of all times?

It was sour. Not comforting.

If she made any mistakes during OoTS, it was enabling Breezepelt's growing xenophobia in the midst of her own pain and frustration. She didn't KNOW that he was being recruited by the Dark Forest. If she did, she would have done something to try and stop him.

Breezepelt and AVoS

The worst part of it all was that none of this newfound reputation carried over to her opinions about her son. Breezepelt continued to be hated and distrusted because of his role in the Battle of the True Eclipse (BOTTE), where the Dark Forest killed so many warriors. He'd fought until the end of the night.

Of course she was disappointed in him. Of course she knew he'd done something awful. But she had too, so many years ago.

The fact he had also been a victim of Crowfeather's slander was disregarded in the eyes of WindClan, and for his role in the fight, Onestar gave him and his complicit friends Dishonor Titles.

Breezepelt became Dodderheart-- a reference to a parasitic type of bush, native to heathland, which strangle and kill the flowers. Harespring didn't get off without one. Darkseeker had sought his biological father in the Dark Forest, Mudclaw, and then the BOTTE had killed his Mi and biological uncle, Torear.

Nightcloud tried to encourage her son to follow Darkseeker's lead in seeking atonement, but he had decided that this meant; "My own mother had taken HIS side, that damn traitor who threw me under the boar so that he could save his own reputation, distancing himself from THE REST OF US so that he can climb the ranks! WELL!"

When The Kin arrived at the lake, lead by the mysterious Darktail, Nightcloud was powerless as the pied piper called forth cats of many Clans.

He appealed to everyone who felt alienated. Every HalfClan cat still dealing with stigma, every young warrior frustrated by the dogged separation of the Clans... and, especially, to all of the Dark Forest trainees who still lived.

It was a trap, and Breezepelt was drawn to it.

As the situation got worse and worse, Nightcloud could only watch from afar as Onestar responded with furious embargoes, aggression, and fury towards any type of contact with Darktail's cats.

Along with Brushblaze and Harespring, now deputy and having shed his Dishonor Title, she plotted ways to undermine Onestar's strict orders and try to reach her son.

And.... Crowfeather, too.

To her surprise, he wanted to help.

The irony was overwhelming. Yes Breezepelt, or Dodderheart, damn Onestar's pernicious name, YES he had been making his own choices for a long time, but Crowfeather knew full well who had set him on this path.

In spite of how he'd try to deflect the blame for seasons on seasons.

Hedgehogs took flight that day, because his response was, "You think I don't know that? ...that's why I'm here."

Someone else might have wanted to shove that back in his face, drink in every drop of smugness they'd earned, tell Harespring to kick him from the help efforts for causing so much pain in the first place..

...But Nightcloud isn't like that someone else.

Breezepelt was what mattered to her. Anyone who was going to help was another alibi, another mouth to carry herbs, another set of claws to fight by their side.

...is that what working with others really means, at its core?

Maybe it's not love that truly binds us, but a sense of duty. The commitments we make to each other, and the honor to keep them.

She loves her son. And by extension, she loves Heathertail and Harespring who love him.

But her Clanmates... she doesn't love them. Or Crowfeather.

And Crowfeather wasn't here out of love for her. Maybe not even love for Breezepelt as a person. He was here for honor. Repentence. To right a wrong.

Whatever reason he was here; it still meant he was HERE. To help.

In that moment, she thinks back to the words of Hillrunner. That only blood-family would ever turn out for you, and strength was what allowed you to keep them.

Looking over to Brushblaze, thinking to her Clanmates, she finally had the wisdom to see the words for what they were

It was the scared, broken philosophy of a molly who had lost everything a hundred times over, clinging to something that made sense, trying to scare her kits into never leaving her side.

Nightcloud was truly unlike her. Surrounded by allies of all kinds, united in their goal to rescue her son and other Kin captives and victims.

She was entitled to her reasonable distrust, but not held back by it. She never would forgive Crowfeather, but they could work together. For Breezepelt.

Hillrunner wasn't completely wrong about strength. It was an asset.

But so is faith.

After they'd brought Breezepelt home along with many others, bedraggled and shaken by their experiences, Nightcloud was absolutely shocked by how graciously Onestar seemed to be towards them.

She didn't question it at the time, but when Onestar spent his final life stealing a plan Breezepelt admitted was his own, to sacrifice himself drowning Darktail, it suddenly made sense.

After Harestar took power, she had cemented herself as one of his favorite warriors. A powerful, loyal brawler, who was willing to do anything under his command. Breezepelt had accepted at this point that he was never going to have a position of power due to his past; and that was okay.

She spent a lot of time with the grandkits Breezepelt eventually had with his mates, Harestar and Heathertail. For the first time in a long time, she's finally at peace with the family she's acquired.

Trivia and Misc

I'm tempted to swap Crowfeather and Nightcloud as deputy. I feel like Nightcloud makes a very interesting one.

At the same time though, I do like the drama of Crowstar and Squirrelstar as opposing leaders, so I'm still unsure.

For some reason whenever I think of Nightcloud, I think of ABBA songs lmao. Thank You For The Music, or maybe Knowing Me Knowing You.

As you can see, I split up Crowfeather's Trial and shuffled it around. I feel like for most of OotS, Nightcloud and Crowfeather are doing nothing but arguing and the development feels incredibly rushed because it's all in an SE, so I've pushed a major event back.

They also never actually describe their verbal arguments; so I'm using them to make my take on Crowfeather more clear. He's emotionally abusive.

Something that I often feel isn't done enough is abusers who are popular, and also funny. How devastating it feels for someone you love to mock you in public, and then a bunch of people laugh because "you deserve it."

Or just see you as the aggressor by default

Knowing you can't do shit about it because they're just more loved than you. Their word vs yours.

(especially when paired with trauma that makes you forget major details so you can't even recall any examples in the moment, so you just get painted as clingy and whiny)

All that said, there's a ton of abusive cats in BB, most of them never improve or get better, but Crowfeather will.

And from Nightcloud's perspective, that's a good thing. And I want to capture that deeply bittersweet feeling.

She's happy he's not so terrible anymore... but god, it doesn't undo any of the AWFUL things he did and said to her.

Anyway, I really want to fit Nightcloud's buddy Pickle in somehow, but I'm still working it out. Pickle was such a cute character

Hillrunner and Downwind are repurposed Missing Kits! WindClan is ridiculously tiny so I had to stretch it pretty thin.

I don't see a ton of Nightcloud origin stories, so the one I figured made the most sense was picking up on the observation others have made about her "coddling" behavior

In-canon, because Crowfeather is abusive to his kid, it suddenly implies that a major reason why Nightcloud is so protective of Breezepaw in arguments is because she's trying to prevent it from escalating into abuse.

Eventually I'd like to build out some more friends, and expand on her budding friendship with Brushblaze. Not to mention Willowclaw.

Maybe I should repurpose Crowfeather's Trial into an SE about Nightcloud... Nightcloud's Thaw, maybe. Something about a change that's a long time coming, so I can show her new backstory and how she reacts to all the changes in WindClan towards her reputation.

And that's Nightcloud! I think she deserves an AU where she gets to be a more fleshed out supporting character, as a treat <3

#Tw abuse #Tw child abuse #BB!Nightcloud #Better Bones AU #Character Summary #Tw abusive relationship

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astralprisms · 3 days

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A comic page based on a fic I was writing, with art by @/LaFrenchbroiche in twitter, text is my own.

The Emperor gave us that recipe and it seemed a shame not to be able to do anything with it in game, so Xa'rok makes some adjustments (and some familiar mistakes)

The Emperor's voice rang suddenly in their mind, urgent. Take care not to--

It didn't get to complete the sentence before Xa'rok saw the smoke curl up from the fire in a great black plume. Xa'rok cursed and shifted the pot from the flames.

..burn it. Despite the momentary panic, the Emperor seemed almost amused. A beat passed before its voice slid back into Xa'rok's head again. Why do you think I included that note in the recipe?

Xa'rok licked an errant splash of cream from their thumb and shifted the pan back to the fire again.

"You wrote that?"

Xa'rok didn't rise to the bait. "You must have been close."

Copied, from a book of my mother's. That note was a late addition. Its attention grew pointed. She often complained that without it, I would become distracted, and forget.

Of what I recall of my human memories, very. Its voice grew distant, as if lost in another place. She was, without a doubt, the greatest woman that ever lived.

Xa'rok hummed thoughtfully. "There aren't any relationships like that, among my kin. I don't really have anything to compare it to. Rearing was the job of the Varsh, and guidance the purview of our instructors -- but I wouldn't call their instruction 'care', exactly." They gave the soup another stir.

"They readied us for life beyond the creche, yes; trained our senses, and strengthened our bodies, but it was nothing like this."

They removed the pan from the fire. The soup had grown thick and boiling, its creamy broth churning with butter and spices, studded with the thick-cut vegetable from which it got its name. It smelled strongly of the soil.

"We ate what we could find and fought one another for what we couldn't. Taste was hardly a factor in those calculations. I can't say I've eaten ferns before, though."

Had you been paying closer attention, you could have sampled them for the first time unburnt.

Xa'rok snorted. "And whose fault is that!? Your stories are a lot more interesting than watching some pot boil over."

As I've said, I've made the same mistake. Consider it...a rite of passage.

Xa'rok ladled themself a helping and posted up with the bowl balanced on their knees. "Maybe I'll like it better this way." They said, just to be contrary.

The Emperor laughed. I said that, too.

A moment passed in silence while Xa'rok lifted the first spoonful to their lips. They swallowed, and the Emperor's presence seemed to solidify, almost as if it sat beside them in the flesh, instead of trapped within the prism at their side.

What do you think?

"I've definitely had worse," Xa'rok started. They swallowed another spoonful, savoring the flavors as they mixed on their tongue. Despite the char, the fiddleheads were surprisingly tender as they tore beneath their teeth. Earthy and hale, they were strongly reminiscent of the ground they had been plucked from.

"Gale says that it's human custom that a meal is only as good as the company that shares it. In that case," Xa'rok glanced beside them at the artefact, the empty space. "I suppose I haven't had better."

#bg3 the emperor #the emperor x tav #tav: xa'rok #bg3 #githyanki oc #the emperor #not my art #commissions #edit: added the relevant fic passage #my fic

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skyeventide · 10 months

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taking a stab at the whole valinor trauma rebirth tragedy thing

without getting into the various iterations of mandos throughout its development, the fact that it shares the etymological root with angband (angamando in quenya) or its use as both a prison/punishment place and as the temporary "afterlife" of elves, I think it should be obvious why "mandos cures everything" doesn't work for most people. it's simply narratively unsatisfying. we know that, technically, spirits are solitary in mandos and don't tend to interact with each other, and we know (iirc) that nienna does most of the healing work, when those spirits don't reflect on things by themselves.

healing in complete isolation might work one rare time, but it's otherwise simply not how healing works, how adjusting to a new life works. being way too in your own head is discouraged. healing all your traumas because a goddess did it via magic counseling gives, at best, uncanny vibes, at worst erases the struggle and journey of adjusting, with help, into the life you're actually living. so people either say that spirits can actually meet in mandos and figure things out among themselves, or subvert the narrative and have people come out of mandos either not truly healed or only partially so, and needing the real living feedback of society to exist within it again. a reading which allows mandos to still function as a recovery, but whose achivement is to "prepare" for the journey of spiritual healing, to bring elves back to a stage where they're able to face the circumstances that generated their trauma (aka the living, embodied world, and maybe more precisely even the people involved in it).

this barely touches on the grievances that dead elves might have with the guys who are running this show. this isn't just feanorian followers (or the exiles more at large) who renounced the valar's authority, it can also be the avari, who now either get valinor or they get valinor. it can be the falathrim, who wanted to go to valinor and lost the chance. it can be those sindar who were waiting for a full intervention from valinor, and it didn't come until earendil came around. it's hard to envision healing within a system when the system itself is what you take issue with. it requires a personal compromise, or an acceptance of the system's authority, and that's simply not always possible, nor can fanworks always easily tackle it — which is also why I think fics where living relatives "bully" or like, strongly entreat, the valar into releasing specific elves from death are popular. it's one way of giving that specific problem a solution, though it may in effect be unrealistic. it's less about realism (I for one don't believe the Valar would ever do that) and more about trying to find a way through wanting to see those characters heal without having to bend and accept the system and its authority.

which also brings me to what comes after and the necessary divide, real or perceived, between people who were always in valinor and people who returned to life after conflict.

to put it simply, making sweeping statements about whether amanyar elves can understand the trauma of exiles and other reborn elves is not possible and in itself pretty silly. even the amanyar themselves don't perceive their experiences of trauma and the darkening in the same way! the teleri refuse to set foot in beleriand despite their own kin being there, and despite the fact that noldor and vanyar embark on a valar-sanctioned war. it's pretty obvious that their own internal experiences and cultural understanding of the darkening or of valar authority is still vastly different, that even going by the imprecise and generalising divide of clan, that trauma was processed differently. or not processed at all.

and then, would those who fight the war of wrath understand the trauma of a continent-wide collapse? yeah, surely in a sense they can, they live through it. but can they understand it from the point of view of a sinda who had lived in beleriand all their life and didn't simply come here with the understanding that this was war? who saw their home be destroyed slowly and painfully, and in the end, when the saving arrives, it's a saving with such an immense and heartbreaking price? maybe they can empathise, maybe they can't. the darkening, by the time of the war of wrath, is no viable term of comparison. even among the living, this isn't cookie-cutter.

so what of those who die and return? I think it's obvious, in the text itself, that someone can go through a death, real of metaphorical, return to their old home which has itself gone through some considerable trauma, and realise that no matter if both you and your home have changed, both have bled, you're still unable to readjust to it the way others can. other people who were with you in your journey can integrate, they find old friends and loves who help them in this. you can't. I'm obviously talking about frodo.

it's not the same for everyone and it will never be. and I do feel as though the reading of valinor being in itself unable to take back people who went through trauma is a push-back against the idea that valinor must inherently be blissful, healing, and perfect; but the text presents us many situations where the environment of valinor plants the seeds of dissatisfaction; the fact that it doesn't work as neatly as it seems is at the core of the early conflict in The Silmarillion (even without pointing out stuff like: troubled people, Frodo included, go to the gardens of Lorien in search of that healing and peace of mind that the rest of the land can't actually provide. it's just a land. it's mostly free of toil because there's literal gods providing things, but it's just a land). valinor is not perfect, but its status as blessed realm invites a certain unease in many readers. I believe this unease leads easily to cotradictory and equally extreme positions, ranging from "no one would or should feel out of place after rebirth" to "actually no one would understand the trauma of someone who died and returned".

plus, of course, the obvious: someone's trauma, collective or individual, and how people process it, doesn't somehow erase someone else's and how they process it. the two things can come in conflict with one another, but they're not, like, mutually exclusive.

#The Silmarillion #Valinor #quenta noldorinwa #I will say I haven't seen these takes #everything is a secondhand account for me

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sotwk · 11 months

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Food and Agriculture in Thranduil's Kingdom

It's unfortunate that Thorin's Company was welcomed as dinner guests in Rivendell but imprisoned as invaders in Mirkwood. Had Thorin just shown King Thranduil just a little bit more respect, they could have been fed a whole lot better by the Silvans. And there would most definitely have been meat!

While the Rivendell elves seem to lean vegetarian, and Lothlorien's culinary specialty is the "one bite" lembas, the elves of Greenwood know more than a thing or two about indulgent feasting. These elves consider themselves permanent residents of their land, and with that outlook comes an attitude of celebrating Middle-earth's bounties.

The Silvans of the Woodland Realm have always been fond of feasting, merry-making, and community and family traditions centered around food. Furthermore, they are ruled by a King and royal family who whole-heartedly support this culture, participate in it themselves, and encourage trade that allows the realm to access food from other lands.

When it comes to food, the Greenwood elves are actually more alike Dwarves and Hobbits than they are the lofty High Elves.

Below the cut are SotWK headcanons regarding Food and Agriculture in the Woodland Realm:

Food, Cuisine, and Agriculture in the Woodland Realm

Prior to the establishment of the Woodland Realm and in the early reign of King Oropher (c. SA 700), the Silvan Elves populating Greenwood lived in smaller communities spread throughout the vast forest, but predominantly in the southwest, closer to their kin in Lorinand. Limited subsistence farming was practiced by a few, but by far most food at this time was obtained through hunting and gathering. The rich and bountiful Greenwood had always provided more than enough resources for its dwellers.

GATHERING

Greenwood Elves happily spend most of their immortal lives within Eryn Galen and the lands of Rhovanion, so they are accustomed to living off solely what the forest produces, and their diet is influenced largely by it.

The most commonly foraged edibles are:

Nuts: hazelnut, pecan, walnut, hickory, beechnut, chestnut

Fruit: plum, apple, grape, persimmon

Berries: mulberry, blackberry, currant, elderberry, raspberry

Wild garlic and ramps

Fungi: mushrooms and truffles of many varieties

Eggs: from various wild birds

Herbs and Spices: fennel, corn mint, dandelions, ground elder, pigweed, cicely, sorrel, hogweed, stinging nettle, watercress, wild carrot, rowan, wood avens, sneezewort

Maple: sourced for sugar and syrup

There are also hundreds of plant species native only to Greenwood and Rhovanion that are valued for their uses in healing. However, the Silvan herbalists of Greenwood are usually the only ones able to effectively extract the curative properties of these plants, indicating a connection between Elves and homeland may be necessary for the healing to work.

Art from Fantasy Flight Games

HUNTING

Greenwood Elves are expert hunters and trackers, with unparalleled mastery within their forest and the lands that surround its borders. With careful consideration and instinctual knowledge of the forest ecosystem, they select their prey according to what's most populous, and rotate as necessary to balance out conservation levels.

Among the animals they hunt regularly for meat consumption are rabbit, squirrel, duck, turkey, quail, weasel, racoon, boar, deer, wild oxen, and elk. On rare or special occasions, they hunt less common game such as lion and bear. They also obtain fish and freshwater mussels, clams, and snails from the Forest River and various streams.

It is illegal in Greenwood to hunt or kill specific animals that are declared a protected species, including the King's Elk (the breed of Thranduil's war elk), the silverwolf, and all species of eagle or falcon.

Any fauna or fauna may also be temporarily decreed off-limits for hunting or gathering, by order of the Elvenking and his council.

Any animal taken in as an elf's pet or familiar may also not be killed, so long as it has been properly tamed and does not pose a risk to others.

Throughout the Second Age, the Woodland Realm's population steadily increased under the wise rule of King Oropher and his court. As the communities and villages that made up the kingdom grew larger and more numerous, the practice of agriculture became more widespread to bolster the realm's food supply.

In the Woodland Realm, farming would always remain secondary to hunting and gathering due to the preference of Silvans for wild game and native vegetation. Farmed products serve primarily to enhance cuisine, supplement large feasts, provide reserves in case of war or famine, and as goods for trade with other realms.

FARMING and LIVESTOCK

Tracts of community farmlands were gradually cultivated in the arable fields between Greenwood's western borders (near the capital of Amon Lanc) and the Anduin River.

In order of output, the food crops most commonly grown are: wheat, barley, oats, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, lettuce, peppers, and peas.

Fiber crops grown for cloth, paper, and rope include: flax, hemp, and cotton.

Domesticated animals are raised in small numbers solely for their by-products and not their meat. In order of importance, livestock that are raised are:

Sheep: source of wool and milk

Chickens: source of eggs

Cows: source of milk and for birthing calves

Animals raised for labor include:

Horses: highly valued and raised exclusively for transport and mounted cavalry

Oxen: used as beasts of burden (large-scale/community work)

Donkeys: used as beasts of burden (small-scale/family work)

When Prince Thranduil built his own palace of Bar Lasgalen just south of the Old Forest Road (which would later become the new capital upon his ascension to the throne), he helped the Silvans residing in the valleys of the Emyn Duir to initiate small-scale agriculture, which encouraged further migration into that area and northward towards the Grey Mountains.

Elvish historians refer to the first millennium of the Third Age as the "Golden Age of the Woodland Realm". During these years, the kingdom enjoyed an unbroken peace under a wise King and Queen who also had five sons actively involved in the governance of the realm.

Departing from his father's more isolationist leanings, Thranduil encouraged trade with realms across Middle-earth. It included all the races except for Hobbits, since the Shire did not yet exist prior to the darkening of Greenwood.

Sadly, most trade came to a stop by the end of the Third Age, with the exception of the nearby Dale, due to the struggles with Dol Guldur. However, after Erebor was reestablished by King Thorin, trade gradually resumed with the Dwarves. After the War of the Ring and the Cleansing of Dol Guldur, Eryn Lasgalen once again thrived with renewed relations with their trade partners--finally including the Shire!

AGRICULTURAL TRADE

The Woodland Realm's three most valuable exported agricultural products are:

Rare spices

Mushrooms and truffles

Medicinal herbs (extremely valuable but highly controlled to prevent misuse)

Imported goods are considered luxuries and not necessities, and are brought in seasonally for community feasts and celebrations (of which there are many). Everything is meant for the consumption of all the kingdom's citizens, regardless of status; there is never anything reserved as "special" for the royals or nobles.

The top agricultural imports, usually from realms/communities of Men, are:

Wine

Textiles (silk, cotton)

Seafood

Sugar

Cheeses

ARTISAN COOKS and BAKERS

Exposure to outside realms and cultures also resulted in an expansion of the culinary arts within Thranduil's kingdom. Cooking and baking became full-blown, respected and sought-after professions instead of tasks done within individual households. With the King's support, talented Elves were sent to other realms to learn their culinary practices; chefs from other kingdoms were invited to Greenwood as royal guests to do the same.

A few culinary feats and innovations the Woodland Elves became known for:

Use of offal (innards) in recipes that actually taste fantastic, thanks to seasonings and skilled cookery

Using literally every single part of a butchered animal with zero waste

Aphrodisiacs in common food recipes, using plant ingredients (partly responsible for their marriage and birth rates and large families)

Salted game meat (jerky) that is highly nourishing and excellent for travel; essentially a meat version of lembas

The use of whipped egg whites to make essentially a type of meringue--which opened up an entire category of desserts that became staples at feasts

Bonus Fun Headcanons! (as a thank you for reading this far)

Mealtimes in Thranduil's Family

No one can beat Ada in drinking contests, ever; it has been attempted hundreds of times--usually with Dorwinion wine--and Thranduil has never been dethroned by his sons.

The King and every single one of the Princes are all heavy eaters, and everyone, including the Queen, eats meat.

While they all observe formal manners at the table, the Princes can get rowdy when not in the presence of their mother--especially when there's drinking involved. (Not quite as bad as Thorin's Company, but close.)

Breakfast: Taken individually in their own rooms, according to each one's schedule/leisure

Lunch: The most commonly skipped meal; usually taken "on the go", and oftentimes with people outside of the family (e.g. business lunches, lunch with friends)

Dinner: The family meal. Everyone is expected to sit down and eat dinner with the rest of the family, unless traveling or there is a prior commitment that takes precedence.

Random Fun Food Facts with the Thranduilions

The Princes regularly compete to see who can eat the most exotic/"disgusting" food items. Turhir remains champion at this (able and willing to eat literally everything), with Legolas frequently trying (and constantly failing) to unseat him.

They have also competed to see who can eat the riskiest (aka poisonous) food items. Arvellas has somehow proven to be the most impervious to natural poisons, much to Gelir's frustration.

Legolas can go the longest without eating food, but no one really cares to try to beat his record.

Mirion is the heaviest eater, but is also the fastest, and because he has flawless table manners no one really notices.

Gelir can find truffles just using his sense of smell--yes, like a truffle pig. He has successfully trained other similarly gifted Elves to do the same.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Tolkien Headcanon tag list: @quickslvxr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @klytemnestra13 @creativity-of-death @heilith @fizzyxcustard @absentmindeduniverse @lathalea @tamurilofrivendell @jordie-your-local-halfling @ladyk8tie @scyllas-revenge @asianbutnotjapanese @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @ratsys @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @freshalmondpandadonut

#sotwk headcanon #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #legolas #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #the elvenking #the hobbit #lord of the rings #tolkien #tolkien headcanons

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monstersdownthepath · 7 months

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A collection of Nascent Demon Lords (plus an extra)

(Pic source; it’s not 1 to 1 what I have in mind, but it’s close enough! and certainly eye-catching)

I’ve done daemons and sahkil, so here we have a trio of nascent demon lords. And also, as an extra treat, an especially disgusting Qlippoth Lord! These aren’t my only concepts for nascent lords, but if I put all of them in a single post then I won’t have any to post later!

As always, there’s significantly more lore for each of these horrors than I put in their little blurbs. Feel free to ask! If one or another gets enough attention, I might write a full article like I’ve done for bigger divinities.

TW for alcoholism mentions in the second entry, and body horror and major unsanitary themes in the final entry.

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Caerbannog, the Deceptive Death Chaotic Evil Nascent Demon Lord of Aggressive Mimicry and Camouflage

One of many wicked children of Lamashtu, Caerbannog has risen above his lesser kin and maintained a hold on a small but stable kingdom of labyrinthine tunnels which link into the realms of various other Abyssal powers, which he constantly steals from. Petitioners, territory, treasure, whatever he can claim for himself without risking immediate retaliation. While this audacious behavior would get any other creature slaughtered for their impudence, Caerbannog remains under the radar of beasts such as Jezelda, Angazhan, and Zevgavizeb by sticking to a simple but fairly effective gimmick: Appearing very, very small.

Able to hide his presence to a degree that even True Sight cannot pierce his disguises, Caerbannog masquerades as harmless animals, demon larvae, or lowly creatures such as quasits to creep unseen in the lairs of his betters, taking from them what he can as part of a strange ‘game’ he plays with himself. Patron of all manner of beasts and killers whose appearance belies unholy strength and hunger, Caerbannog is overjoyed when he is found by some guardian or predator which mistakes his taken form for his true one. Exploding forth from the body of a quasit, kitten, or--his favorite--a rabbit, he becomes a whirlwind of shredding teeth and claws that can quickly dismember beasts of any size, leaving him to frolic adorably amongst the gore until he grows bored and moves on.

Domains: Animal, Chaos, Evil, Trickery Subdomains: Fur, Demon, Whimsy, Deception Favored Weapon: Claws Symbol: The head of a herbivorous animal with bloodstains around the mouth. Sacred Animals: Rabbits and kill kittens Sacred Colors: White, brown, gray

Obedience: Attack a creature that saw you as harmless or friendly. Preferably this leads to the creature’s death. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to Disguise and Bluff checks.

Boon 1: Harmless Form Boon 2: Beast Shape II Boon 3: Veil

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Vodani, the Demon at the Bottom of the Bottle Chaotic Evil Nascent Demon Lord of Intoxication and Misdirected Anger

Among the most human-looking of any demon, Vodani’s sickly yellow eyes and shark-like teeth betray the truth of his heritage, forcing him to take pains to hide them when he walks among mankind. Appearing as an innocent vagrant, Vodani finds groups of beggars and paupers to infiltrate, gaining their trust and sympathy with gifts of alcohol and stories stolen from his past victims. Over time, he will learn everything he can about them and their lives, what decisions or foul luck brought them to this state, and it’s then he will begin to work to twist their innocent desires for a better life into hatred for foes real and imagined.

There are some who mistake Vodani for a benevolent figure, the Patron (or Prince) of Paupers, uniting the destitute and broken against everything that brought them low, but while his cultists may have their own ideas of revenge, Vodani himself cares little for any true justice; he whips his unwitting victims into mobs united against scapegoats and other innocents, and any long-term good he ends up doing is purely accidental. So long as something or someone is destroyed by the end of the resulting riot, he considers it a success, leaving the poor souls he deceived behind to drink themselves to death and rise again as his children to perpetuate the cycle of violence.

Domains: Chaos, Community, Evil, Trickery Subdomains: Revelry, Riot*, Demon, Espionage Favored Weapon: Improvised weapon Symbol: Two beaten flasks, tankards, or cups toasting. Sacred Animals: None Sacred Colors: Yellow, brown *Followers of Vodani can modify the Community Domain with the Riot Subdomain.

Obedience: Find one or several drunkards and spend one hour conversing with them, weaving in purposefully inflammatory statements against targets of ire, be it yours or theirs. Alternately, spend at least one hour drinking alcoholic drinks while ruminating on everyone that has ever wronged you. Many followers of Vodani perform either obedience by accident. Benefit: Three times per day as a standard action, you may cause a bottle of ale, wine, whiskey, beer, or other mundane, low-quality alcohol to appear in your hand. Each bottle contains enough for two servings. These bottles and their contents disappear after 24 hours, or if you fail to perform your Obedience, though having the drinks on-hand allows you to easily perform it.

Boon 1: Rotgut Boon 2: Malicious Spite Boon 3: Song of Discord

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Galroscul, the Hunger Sealed in Steel Nascent Demon Lord of Cannibalism and Gluttony

In his prime, Galroscul was a terrifying figure to behold. A towering horror in the shape of an anthropomorphic boar with the scales and tail of a dragon, six unblinking eyes on either side of his head, his tusks and claws as powerful as adamantine and his stomach as bottomless as the Abyss itself. He became a Demon Lord by literally eating his way there, legends claiming he consumed an entire Abyssal layer along with every demon and demigod within it to fuel his ascension, and if the stories are anything to go by, he wasn’t nearly close to finished. He had his eye on the throne of gods, hoping that if he drank the blood of Lamashtu, he would stand alongside her and, eventually, devour her as well.

He didn’t even get anywhere close to enacting his plan before he was ambushed by the forces of Zura, lord of cannibals, and Xoveron, lord of gluttons, who both saw his existence as a threat and formed a rare union against him. They drained and consumed what they could of him, leaving him pitifully weakened and, knowing that if they slew him he would simply return to life at full strength, set into motion a plan to humiliate and imprison him with the aid of greedy mortals. On a far-off world, Galroscul has been sealed inside of a great and terrible machine by a cabal of meat-mongers hoping to make their products fiendishly addictive. He rages and starves within this machine, processing countless carcasses but unable to truly eat a single bite, reduced in power to a Nascent Demon Lord and losing more of his sanity with every passing day.

Domains: Animal, Chaos, Destruction, Evil Subdomains: Fur, Demon, Rage, Cannibalism Favored Weapon: Bite Symbol: A boar skull trapped in a metallic diamond. Sacred Animals: Boars and goats Sacred Colors: Red and brown

Obedience: Begin eating a creature while it’s still alive. Alternately, consume a limb taken from a creature within the last 24 hours. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to your AC versus bite attacks and to your CMD against grapple attempts.

Boon 1: Enemy’s Heart Boon 2: Hunger for Flesh Boon 3: Extended Hungry Pit

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Lormlecht, the Dung-Eater Qlippoth Lord of Filth and Sepsis

There are creatures considered disgusting, vomit-inducing, or putrid, and then there is Lormlecht, whose nauseating habits put all others to shame. Once nothing but a harmless scavenger scarcely as large as a finger, the Dung-Eater has gone from vermin to hazard to a lethal danger the size of a sea serpent as it has slithered through the sewers and muck of the Abyss, feasting merrily on the leavings of these twisted civilizations and dragging unwary victims into cesspits to ferment to perfection. Many attempts to destroy the filth-eating abomination have been made by mortal and immortal alike, but on the rare occasions these attempts succeed, they’re tragically short-lived as Lormlecht reforms within the bowels of a living creature infected with Filth Fever.

Lormlecht possesses a unique relationship with the wasting disease, able to cause embryonic qlippoth (especially Chernobue) to form within the bodies of any creature infected with even a mild strain. Any minor contact with its form is capable of causing a full-blown infection, to say nothing of the horrifying fate that befalls anyone who suffers even a glancing blow from its alarmingly equine, filth-slicked teeth; such victims are infested not only with a nearly incurable variant of Filth Fever, but a menagerie of other diseases which resist magical cures and can cause an agonizing, septic death within hours. It’s quite telling that even demons consider being bitten by the Dung-Eater a gruesome and miserable fate.

Domains: Chaos, Death, Evil, Water Subdomains: Caves*, Plague, Corruption, Flotsam Favored Weapon: Club Symbol: A piece of rotted offal impaled on a stick Sacred Animals: Rats and otyughs Sacred Colors: Brown *Followers of Lormlecht can modify the Chaos or Evil Domains with the Caves Subdomain.

Obedience: Spend no more than an hour contaminating an area you expect other creatures to pass through with filth and waste. Benefit: Your body harbors Filth Fever, which does not harm or inconvenience so long as you’ve performed your Obedience within the last 7 days. Any creature which ingests your blood is exposed to the disease (DC 13 negates, as normal).

Boon 1: Mud Buddy Boon 2: Tenacious Stinking Cloud Boon 3: Plague Storm

#original concepts

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donsgraveyard · 6 months

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hi :3 you don't have to answer this but i desperately want to see your headcanons i love headcanons such a good meal

uh uh ok I hope the selection I have is ok for you thank you for asking I’m like crying also this is a lot I realized so I’m sorry

Nightwolf is like really good at playing drums and electric guitar cause his family is a metal head family so he grew up with his kin always jamming out to metal and rock of all kinds. He gets a little defeated sometimes cause he doesn’t have like any personal time to keep playing…

Also Nightwolf makes his own jewelry like his bracelets and necklace, he made himself. He makes his own bead work earrings too but only wears them to events ….which he like never goes to…

Fujin and Raiden have a library in the Sky Temple that’s full of books they’ve collected and gifted each other over the years and Fujin keeps accidentally getting the same book over and over every few hundred years

Fujin likes to paint sometimes like it’s not smth he loves, loves, but it passes the time and he likes to see how he improves over the years. Fujin likes to lounge around so sitting and painting what he sees really relaxes him. He likes water color and likes to sketch portraits of Nightwolf’s face but Nightwolf doesn’t know that….

also Fujin loves to make bread….. he lived in a village for like five years when he was living among mortals, and the elder women of the village taught him to make bread and pastries so he makes some treats for him and Raiden sometimes

I also like to think Fujin and Raiden have this portrait of themselves hanging in the Sky Temple… many years ago a painter approached them and requested he be able to paint the brothers and they agreed. The brothers look at it some times and think about how much brighter and ‘younger’ they looked those years ago before their responsibilities became more stressful and commanding

Kabal has two moms……… I have no like reason for this one I just think he has two mamas and he loves them very much. He kinda drifted from them, though when Kabal was a teen cause he started getting involved with crime and stuff and when he joined the police force with Stryker, Kabal is still healing his relationship with his moms….

specifically mk1 Bi-Han has a little stuffed cat he keeps clean and healthy, because it was the one thing he had as a kid that like allowed him to be a kid? Yk what I mean? It’s so small he can fit it in one of his palms …

It took a long, long time but Takeda learned how to braid Jacqui’s hair properly and he gets really good at it!! He does her hair and kisses her shoulders and stuff while he does, and then Jacqui turns around and gives Takeda one of those silly on-top-of-the-head ponytails that sticks up and she giggles about it

Cassie and Kung Jin are K-Pop fans and Cassie blows Johnnys money on concert tickets all the time and they come home and crash in Cassie’s apartment to sleep in until 4:00 in the evening cause they are so exhausted

um I can’t think of any others rn……. I hope these are ok and what u were looking for

#I hope this isn’t too many. I have a lot of thoughts so I have a lot of head canons….#mk #mk fandom #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat #lord fujin #nightwolf #lord raiden #fujin #Cassie cage #Kung jin #takeda takahashi #jacqui briggs #windwolf #mk kabal #bi han #sub zero #storm twins

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ikayblythe · 9 months

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reIterators

A new biological vessel, created by iterator Where Seas Meet Skies, to give their kin a chance to live free of the prisons that are their own bodies.

A revamp of this post.

The above images feature Wave Function Collapse, one of the many "children" of WSMS from the beginnings of the reiteration project. The first generation of reiterators were all glorified clones and remain somewhat connected in a loose hive mind with the Ascending Spire, as "beta versions" before WSMS deemed it safe enough to begin with other iterators.

Reiterators are biological avatars based upon iterator DNA, with the genes of humans and scavengers to fill in the holes. This resulted in an overall human-like appearance, though with more scav-like proportions. Reiterators also have more scav-like faces, with spiracles in place of a nose and triple-split mandibles.

Wave Function Collapse, along with Songs of Lavender, form the Courier sect—a network of purposed messenger envoys and their reiterator trainers designed as an underground alternative to the global broadcast network to support the growing carnalist movement among iterators. Most messages can be sent unsupervised via an envoy, though more important deliveries, such as an iterator's complete system scans, require a Courier's guidance to ensure the safety of the cargo. Waves works as WSMS's eyes in this field, being able to directly interact and convince ailing superstructures to reiterate.

#digital art #artwork #rain world #art #artists on tumblr #rw ancients #digital illustration #rainworld #original art #rw #rw sunshower #rw reiterator #wave function collapse #where seas meet skies #another reminder that i call rw ancients humans

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henrytanael19 · 8 months

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Propatulus Aurora AU

In which Earth, the entire solar sytem and other planets is alive, a universe where the impossible is only an illusion, where monsters and gods are sometimes both and can be killed, living amongst their mortal kin, where the concept of Death is different for every planet or galaxy, but the solar system has a concept of death joined with the void, as inevitable as it is kind, the primordial darkness rejoicing of the life that dots it. And in which Humans are just vibing after being properly introduced to the Wider Galaxy Community, turning enemies into friends and the like. Also, Earth takes no shit from alien invaders and boots them out the moment they try to enter her atmosphere.

Except for the good ones, they can stay.

In this Au, Planets were vaguely sorted into three categories: Destroyer, Creator, and Protector. The likes of Primus, Eukaris, Devisiun, Petropia and numerous others were known as Creator-planets, due to being able to seed life from their own bodies. Whereas Unicron, Pyros, Appoplexia and the like were known as the Destroyer-planets, being known to destroy dead planets to make way for the new cycle. As the name suggested, Protector-planets were primarily concerned with the defense of their home system, protecting it both from Destroyers seeking to devour a still living planet and Creators from seeding other planets with parasites, but also has the fewest planets of the three, with Earth being counted among it alongside her siblings in the Solar System in the Milky Way. Arburia also counted as a Protector before it's destruction.

But for those lacking a Protector-planet to defend them, a Guardian and a Titan was the next best thing individual planets can have. Consisting of a planet's strongest children, they can be considered as gods in the view of others. E.g. Godzilla and Mothra of Earth are a textbook example of a Titan and Guardian pairing, despite the fact that Earth was a Protector-planet. Earth is their version of a cryptid to her fellow planets, appearing in other galaxies with no warnings.

Where humans have powers that is derived from their souls, some able to turn it tangible as their weapon of choice like a sword, or manifesting an entire armour made up of their soul or even performing them like the four elements. Due to this close connection with their own lifeforce they live somewhere in between the living and the spiritual world, otherwise called as the umbral, or fourth dimension. The denizens of the Umbral World consist of mythological or extinct creatures and primarily steeped in magic, invisible to the naked eye. And in honor of their mother-planet, they dedicated themselves to taking care of creatures trying to cause trouble in the mortal realm, whether by rehabilitation or execution, the primary group known for this is called the Titanslayers, led by June Darby and Cade Yeager.

All of this is done quietly in the shadows, considering almost none in the Wider Galaxy Community is aware of the Umbral Dimension. The Anur system are one of the few to also be able to interact with the Umbral Dimension, as well as the Null Dimension and Legerdomain by virtue of being attached to it.

Earth is steeped in magic, so humans have been able to mostly connect it seamlessly with technology and even science (E.g. Ben Tennyson being a World Shifter as well as a biologist in this AU). The primary examples are the Jaegers, metal machines operated by human pilots and the love child of science, technology and magic.

The Earth-Titans are also denizens of the Umbral Dimensions, so they are a visible example of creatures originating in the Umbral Dimension living in the Mortal Realm.

Also, Earth is as ancient as the other planets, consisting of those ages in trillions, but because she only settled into a planet after most planets already turned inactive in the case of the Creator-planets, the Galaxy widely believed she was only 4 billion years old, having only counted the years she was a planet rather than the active creature she was back then, having been the third to settle as a planet in their solar system.

Also, Earth's biodiversity came from the planets and creatures she has killed and eaten, once having been described as containing a black hole for a stomach, and with those biodiversity inherited by humans was born their nearly limitless ability to procreate with any sentient creature in the Galaxy. As long as they have the equivalent of a soul, they can carry a child of that alien species, double the effectiveness if they were just using their soul, as having just used it means their lifeforce is still closer to the surface of their physical body and made flexible enough to make procreation between two different species possible. (E.g. The Plumbers Kids/Amalgam Kids, Max McGrath, Kevin Levin, Others)

Hybrid children still aren't that common though, due to having to feed fragment bits of their own soul to sustain a half foreign onr. It can even prove taxing enough to require a third party stepping in just so both parent and offspring doesn't die.

Ancient creatures lurk in the background of the universe, taking the form of Suns, Black Holes and the like. Helios, the Sun of the Solar System, is one such example.

And as a bonus, this AU is primarily crack with eldritch horror, heartfelt feelings and interspecies romance mixed in.

In other words, welcome to the crackfest that is Propatulus Aurora, and enjoy your stay!

(PS. I'll be taking stuff from each canon and mashing them together to fit my perceptions and suits my purposes, and ignoring anything else that doesn't.)

#earth is a deathworld #earth is awesome #humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #transformers #godzilla #ben 10 #max steel #pacific rim #Propatulus Aurora #naelsthoughts #crossover #behold my magnum opus #*sarcasm*

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racefortheironthrone · 2 months

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In A Guildsman Goes Forth to War, what can you tell us about fae society? I'm assuming they're monarchies, feudal or absolute? Do they bear any resemblance to Celtic society? Do they practice slavery? What of their gender dynamics? Etc

Great question!

So there's a lot that I'm not going to share with you, because the fae/Fair Folk/etc. are supposed to be a mysterious people who live in their own realm that connects to the human world via thin places in the forests and underhill and deep in the mountains or underground rivers, and humanity doesn't particularly understand them very well despite centuries of intermarriage, as the fae are both very cryptic and contradictory in the information they've shared with their Gentry kin.

Government

As far as humans have been able to glean, the Fae do organize themselves into Courts that seem close enough to European feudal systems that the leading families of Europe can do business with them when it comes to dynastic marriage alliances and diplomatic relations.

That being said, status and power in Faerie society don't seem to be based in land as they are among humans. (In the interests of full disclosure, I'm borrowing some ideas here from the Feywild in D&D.) As far as people have been able to glean from correspondence and diplomatic and cultural interactions, titles are based on elements of nature (the Duke of Hoarfrost, the Viscount of Watermeadows) or from emotions (the Lady of Wistful Rememberance, the Prince of Sorrow), or from ideas and beliefs (the Duchess of the Dark Side of the Moon claims to have once been a handmaiden to the goddess Selene).

Quite a few scholars of geography and history from the leading universities have theories and taxonomies about how Faerie society is organized, but they're all second-hand and can offer only partial explanations and there's absolutely no consensus about what's going on. It does not help that the rare diplomatic missions or marriage parties that go to Faerie from the human world rather than in the other direction tend to report memory issues, such that much of what is recorded owes more to dream logic than accurate observation. Needless to say, this has been a rich vein of material for poets, playwrights, and painters only, and intensely frustrating for academics and statesmen.

Culture

Faerie culture is highly localized in accordance with regional folklore and mythology, although scholars disagree whether human folklore is a record of pre-historical encounters with Faerie, or whether the Fae pattern themselves after the human cultures they interact with.

So for example, the Fae of Éire, Alba, Anglia, and northern Gallia seem to correspond to Gaelic and Brythonic literature, Arthuriana, and the Matters of Britain and France. In the Sacrum Imperium and the Danelaw, however, the dominant Fae cultures are distinctively Germanic and Scandinavian - whether that's the Rheintöchter of the Rhineland and Palatinate, or the dvergr who predominate in Bavaria and the Hapsburg lands or the trollkind and various álfar in the land of the Northmen. In much of southern Europe around the Mediterranean, one is much more likely to encounter Faerie peoples recognizable to students of Greek and Roman mythology: many Gentry from the Lega or the western half of the Rhōmaîoi-Rashidun Federation claim descent from oreads, naiads, nereids, satyrs and other bloodlines.

Human scholars are particularly confused by the fact that all of these different peoples all call one another "cousin," no matter whether they belong to the more humanoid elfkind or the distinctly non-human trollfolk or even the potentially fictional or extinct dragons.

Class and Slavery

As already suggested, Faerie society seems to have some sort of a hierarchy, but it does not seem to be one based in the inheritance of land passed down from generation to generation. Rather, as far as humans can tell, status seems to be associated with proximity to or control of or possession of or identification with magical power from various sources.

What does seem to be the case is that those with more power can command those with less, and Faerie embassies ubiquitously feature both vips with titles and what appear to their servants, but there is no consistency on which kinds of fae serve and which rule. Human visitors and diplomats are very unsure whether this consistutes a caste system or clientilism, because the Fae themselves speak in rather vague terms about "obligations" and "debts" and "true names."

Gender

Again, humans have a rather hard time understanding Faerie gender norms - and are rather unsure whether various Fae kinds have genders and how many they have. What is known is that, among what passes for royalty and nobility in Faerieland, there is a tendency for the female to be announced first - correspondence often arrives in the form of "Queen Titania and King Oberon" or "The Baroness and Baron"- which suggests a slight tendency to the matriarchal, but that is mere supposition. Human cultural conservatives both within and without the Church do grumble about the "immodest" and "amazonian" habits of Faerie women when they comport themselves in their visits to human society or in their Gentry marriages, but they make sure to do so under their breath.

#a guildman goes forth to war #renaissance fantasy #fantasy genre #world building #faerie #fae #fair folk

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spacebarbarianweird · 7 months

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Astarion Dhampir Daughter Headcanon P.4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

She always dresses like "this woman who has buried three husbands and is ready to bury the fourth one."

When she was a kid, Astarion would sew her dresses - they were supposed to be both practical and pretty, with a lot of hidden pockets.

Even though a few centuries old, Alethaine still carries her father's dagger in her boot (the one he gave her when she was 19).

She never allowed anyone to touch her silver waist-length hair.

Only Tav was allowed to brush and braid them.

When Tav died, Alethaine cut the hair short in grief.

Regretting it immediately since elven hair takes centuries to grow back.

They grew back faster than Alethaine expected, but to her own dislike, they weren't silver anymore. They were raven black, more suited for a dhampir.

For a decade, she lived in Dhampir Freehold, the city founded by the oldest of the Underdark spawns' children.

Unluckily, dhampirs are solitary creatures, and the history of the Freehold ended in worshipping abyssal demons and bloodshed.

Alethaine, having much better intuition and being a skilled necromancer, had managed to escape before things went south.

She has a living beating heart, but undead blood runs in her veins.

The blood which enables immunity to vampirism because no vampire would be able to feed on dhampirs.

Alethaine's blood smells like sagebrush.

Druidic protection circles and the divine light hurt her.

Along with the sun.

Of course, she can walk in the sunlight, but it makes her head hurt.

She is fluent in Abyssal but sort of didn't expect Abyss to answer back.

Blood is like a drug for dhampirs; it makes them strong but erases their humanity. Alethaine constantly fights the temptation to drink it.

Astarion eventually settled at the sea coast, managing his own piracy empire and being this "man in shadows" no one knows, but everyone fears.

He mostly did this to make sure Alethaine knew where to find him if she desperately needed him.

Because his "little princess" definitely would need her dad's help from time to time.

Despite being a High Elf, Alethaine believed she had no soul and would not be able to reincarnate.

To her own surprise, she met her thiramin, elven soulmate, her star-crossed love.

Erlen, the wood elf prince.

Who didn't expect to see the long-desired light in the eyes of gods damn dhampir.

It's a sin to separate thiramins, but his family decided better to do this than allow "foul vampiric blood" to poison their kin.

They put a spell on Erlen and locked him away and also casted a dozen protection spells, preventing Alethaine from rescuing him.

Well, too bad they weren't afraid to piss Alethaine Ancunin.

Because now they pissed her father.

Who is absolutely heartbroken seeing his daughter exhausted and desperate, begging him to save her love

Crying and cursing in his hands.

And Astarion has a pirate fleet who wouldn't mind whooping some elven asses.

Upon rescuing Elren, Astarion is suspicious of this wood elf he had never seen before.

What if he doesn't treat his daughter accordingly?

Only to realize that if Alethaine was his "princess," she would be the queen to her future husband.

"Just don't hesitate to ask me for help. I will gladly kill a couple self-confident elves for you two."

Alethaine called her firstborn daughter Tav.

Of course, it's a baby name and she will change it to a more appropriate one in a century, but for now, there is little Tav growing among the elves.

And Alethaine hopes she will be at least half as good a "monster" parent for her daughter as Astarion was for her.

#astarion headcanon #bg3 astarion #astarion being a dad #astarion's daughter alethaine #astarion has a daughter in my headcanon cause why not its mine #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion headcanons #astarion romance #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #alethaine ancunin #dadstarion #spacebarbarian headcanon #meet the dhampirs #dhampirs of the sword's coast #dnd

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myfandomprompts · 1 year

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𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟏

Summary: Aemond is better, thanks to your new ally. But should you have trusted your instincts?

Warnings: angst, mention of blood Masterlist (Part 30 - Part 32)

Over the next few days, word of what had happened spread like wildfire. Vhagar had returned to her rider, and Caraxes was unheard of. Some said dragons would go mourn in a familiar place of their own before returning to avenge their riders, but the presence of Vhagar soothed every worry you had about that.

Harrenhal became sort of a neutral zone, the decided place where the terms of peace between the Blacks and the Greens would be passed. Only Baela and Rhaena had been left behind in King’s Landing, the Velaryons not trusting the grief and ire they felt after the death of their father to remain diplomatic enough. Prince Daeron had also remained in Tumbleton, a force left in the Crownlands in case things went sour.

The only dragons present as a result were Vhagar and Meleys, the Queen Who Never was overseeing the restitution of Jacaerys for her granddaughter with her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon.

Everything seemed to go the way your father had intended. Terms were still to be determined for both sides to be content, but one issue constantly loomed over your head.

The fate of Aemond Targaryen, to whom every Black demanded either his death or lifelong imprisonment. They did not trust Vhagar in the least, and even less in the irascibility of a man like the Kinslayer. But since word of his wounded state had spread among the Blacks, their hatred seemed to have diminished, as they claimed that Aemond Targaryen would not ride any time soon, nor have a say in the upcoming parlays. Maybe they thought Daemon had injured him so badly that he would never recover, or that the murder of another one of his kin had cursed him further and would not be able to live a normal life, doomed to suffer the torment of the gods. So they gradually left him alone for the time being, out of their sight on the God’s Eye edge.

But little did they know that what the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms thought about your husband were the last of your worries.

Aemond had quickly recovered thanks to Alys Rivers’ tending and to some of maesters dispatched to his care. The said maesters were quite displeased by the presence of the wet-nurse, but Aemond had ordered that she was to be kept close, and no one had dared to question him. It was true that her techniques seemed to work wonderfully, but it came with a price: you had barely seen Aemond in the last few days.

Yes, you were quite busy with helping your father to set up camp for the Greens’ delegation to arrive as well tending to Naerys on your own, since no one, not even Alys, would even offer their help. And yes, in the first few days of Aemond’s convalescence, he had been in much need of rest, both Alys and the maesters claiming preferable that he remains unbothered. But it should not have prevented you from seeing him, you thought.

After that, his mother, great-cousin and Ser Cole came to visit him the moment they arrived at Harrenhal, and since that time, you had not been able to be alone with him. With him was either Alicent, Alys or other people in his presence each time you went to him, and all that you could do was hold his hand while he was asleep with milk of the poppy, or tend to him as best as you could when he needed it, doomed to be only something resembling his shadow.

Within a few days everyone could see the improvement of his health, and you felt relieved and grateful, but it was brief.

In the rare times you could speak to him, you had only talked about general subjects like which Lords and Ladies had arrived at Harrenhal for the treaty or Caraxes’ whereabouts. But it never went beyond that, and you could not help but notice that he had not asked about Naerys once, nor had he asked to see her.

You didn’t dwell on it too long, blaming his state and his mind which was still affected by the milk of the poppy and the many medicines he was on, but the more time passed, the more you were becoming unsettled by his behaviour, and Alys’.

Since the duel you had not talked in length with the wet-nurse, leaving the topic of the ritual floating in the air between the both of you but never assessed. Meanwhile she took great care of Aemond, granting him a fast recovery, faster than it should have been according to the conversation you once overheard from the maesters. They had talked about the almost ‘unnatural’ recovery of the prince as well as the many brews of her own making she was administering him. It made you frown but you didn’t linger over it until rumours about her started to spread around the camp. From what you understood, her reputation as a witch was not much of a secret, but even though people did not utter it out loud, you were not spared from the pitied and judgmental glares the highborns you crossed paths with gave you. It worsened as soon as it became evident to everybody that Alys Rivers was spending a great amount of time with the Prince, a fact that did unnerve your father greatly for your sake and the honour of your House. Still, you forced yourself to pay them no mind, instead going to visit Aemond as soon as you were able.

But each time you ended up more baffled than the last. Whenever you managed to have you and Aemond alone, Alys always seemed to come unannounced and proceed to busy herself with nursing him. And each time that happened, the latter asked to be left alone, dismissing you.

The fourth time this occurred, you had refused.

“I would like to stay this time, if it’s alright with you.”

Both Aemond and Alys looked at you, as if you had said something incredibly stupid. “My Lady, I assure you this is fine. I only need to change his bandages.”

“Thus why I want to stay. I should do this myself, in truth,” you realised, trying to remain as polite as possible.

Aemond clicked his tongue. “The Lady Rivers knows what she is doing, do not worry about it Y/N.”

“I know as well. Must I remind you of the time I tended to you in the middle of the desert?”

“It is different. Lady Rivers has made miracles. I do not know what I would have done without her, it is evident."

Alys was now measuring some of her mysterious concoctions with a humbled smile on her face while Aemond looked at her with understanding. Something was wrong. Very very wrong.

“That is it. Out.”

You looked at the older woman you owed the life of your husband to, her beautiful blue eyes staring back at you, startled, but even though the harshness of your tone clearly expressed how much your trust in her had faltered, she still did not move.

“I said, out,” you repeated.

She turned to Aemond, looking for his approval, and it made you inhale sharply in irritation. He let out an exasperated sigh as he nodded at her to do as you had commanded, and she left the tent, taking her perusing gaze along with her.

You were really annoyed.

“What is going on with you Aemond? Why are you pushing me away like this? I am your wife, the woman you married,” you reminded him, as if it was necessary. “I need to be by your side, not dismissed like a mere servant.”

He leaned back into his bed, unfazed. “Yes, you are my wife, although you are not behaving like a proper one these days.”

You were taken aback, your jaw dropping in shock. “Oh, because you are behaving like a perfect husband. You haven’t even asked how Naerys was. Our own daughter that had been abducted!”

His eye hardened slightly but he still seemed untouched by your words. “I killed the bastard that took her. She is safe, this is all I need to know.”

Your wrath abated for a moment, and you sank at his side, taking hold of his hand with urgency.

“It almost killed you, Aemond. You were bleeding out, I was scared for you...” you said with a distraught tone. His eyes widened slightly.

“It had to be done, did it not? I told you as such a long time ago, but you refused to hear it. Besides, I am fine now, no Rogue Prince or Valyrian Steel could take me down. Nothing, in fact. Lady Alys had assured me as such.”

You frowned at his words, almost ignoring the jealousy that crept in your heart.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confused.

He looked more alive all of a sudden, excited.

“She saw me on the Iron Throne, as the true ruler of the Seven Kingdom," he announced, expression bright. "It had been my path from the day I was born, and now it is nearer than ever. She knows it, she understands me.”

You tried to bury the feeling of hurt that hit you at his last words, rather deciding to go with common sense to answer the shocking declaration he had just made.

“You… Aemond, we are on the verge of a treaty of peace, sacrifices were made for it,” you stammered, unsure of how to react to this suddenly. “You are hurt, and we are outnumbered. It is too late to-”

“Fuck the treaty,” he spat, his purple eye shooting at you, something sour within it. “To hell with all those Lords who believe me so weak as to not claim my birthright. Daemon is dead, I will not stop there, my path is clearer than ever.”

“What about the twins?” you pointed out, tone slightly trembling. “You love them! You never told me anything about setting them aside, never! You always meant them to rule one day, even when you thought them dead!”

You were met with silence on his part. He had turned his gaze in front of him and clenched his jaw, annoyed. He took a moment to muster his response.

“She warned me. That you would not understand. That you would not see my greatness, my worth. You never did.”

“I have always supported you!” you exclaimed, now feeling both utterly angry at Alys and hurt that he would doubt you. “At Storm’s End, at Sandstone… Even in Dragonstone. My love for you goes beyond simple affection, you are everything to me, and I would defend you to my death. But what you speak of? It will only harm you even more! Those Lords would not accept you as their King so easily, I do not want you hurt trying to fight them."

“I have Vhagar,” he loudly said, but his tone remained cold. “I will make them bend the knee or they will burn, a simple choice. I will take my rightful place, and make her visions true.”

You felt the dread that filled your nights come back in a flash. Everything but this.

“And then what, Aemond? Will you rule over the ashes? Is this the vision Alys had promised you?” you taunted, already sick of saying her name. “What if she is lying to you? What if you cannot see it? Because you feel indebted to her?”

He sternly looked at you, as if he had realised an unalterable fact. He shook his head. Something was so very wrong.

“She was right… Your heart is still on the side of your Black and disloyal family, and it is a matter of time until you turn against me as well,” he deadpanned, and you almost thought you heard wrong, his logic so absurd.

“Aemond, you are not making any sense,” you pleaded, your tone clearly distraught now. “I love you, and I see you Aemond, as you are, I know you. I will always be yours, and always fight as fiercely as you did for our daughter, for us . Please my love, do not let that woman tell you otherwise.”

You were not ready for the stoic look he gave you, almost unemotional. Never had he looked at you like that, and you felt his hand let go of yours.

“If you cannot support me, then go. I do not need you.”

Your body went rigid, and even the act of breathing pained you. You continued to watch him with disbelief, your fingers itching for his touch. He was just in front of you, however he felt so far away. Something was very, very wrong indeed.

You repressed a sob as you looked away to hide your birthing tears, glancing at the many vials that glowed on the tables around. Alys’ medicine.

You had made up your mind.

“I will never give up on you. I'm not going anywhere,” you flatly stated, and with all of the courage you could muster, you got up and left the tent, casting a last dark look at the vials.

The cold air attacked your skin as you stepped outside but it didn’t matter, your blood was boiling with anger now.

Something was very, very wrong.

It did not take much thinking on your part to know what to do.

You had to find Alys Rivers, and confront her. Something was amiss, and you would fight to know the truth behind your husband’s odd behaviour.

From some dark place inside of your mind, you heard a voice whisper to you that Aemond maybe meant everything he had said, that you have been blind to his desires to the Throne, that you had underestimated them and that they even surpassed his love for you.

But you shut that part of your mind quickly, realising that there was something more to it, that you knew your husband and you would not let him pull away from you.

You were his as much as he was yours.

You found her near a brazier not far from there, as if she was waiting for you and Aemond to be over with your conversation. It unnerved you even more.

“You...” you seethed, coming closer to her. No one else was around, she turned around.

“My Lady,” she greeted calmly, ignoring your furious gaze with condescension.

You went straight to the point.

“What have you done to him? What was the spell you cast? Tell me, witch,” you demanded.

She only widened her eyes in innocence. “I only did what you asked of me, my Lady. I made him survive, he killed the Rogue Prince. I did what I thought was right.”

You knew you should not have let your anger take the better of you before someone who was versed in magic, perhaps ill magic even, but you did.

“Very well then, you will continue to do so, what is right, and not come close to him ever again,” you stated, tone harsh. “I will not let my husband be the subject of whatever you are inflicting him, or let you say calumnies about me.”

Your breath was heavy, and she did not answer right away.

Instead her widened eyes disappeared, replaced by a stern expression, calm, and all innocence left her all at once. She was now looking at you with something akin to despise, and you almost recoiled.

“I am not inflicting him anything, I am only helping him achieve his purpose, what he was always meant to do, to rule. You cannot separate us, he needs me, and you are only dragging him down. I am the one who made him stronger. He could never have that with you.”

Her tone had turned cold, matter-of-factly, and it was your turn to widen your eyes, her change of demeanour shocking you.

But your anger did not falter.

“You are a fool if you think you can put yourself between us. Do you believe me so blind not to see through your machinations?" you asked, willing to not let your jealousy cloud your goal. "You have done something to him, I am sure of it. What was that spell? What are you giving him? I will not have you using him for whatever goal you hope to achieve, so tell me now.”

She scoffed.

“But you are blind. You cannot see his potential as I can, he had been trapped by the straps of decency when he could have done so much more. You are nothing, only a common woman he had some attraction to, while he is the blood of Old Valyria, a dragon rider with a mind meant for the Throne,” she explained, her eyes burning in excitement. “My spells freed him, and my potions healed him. He had finally come to realise how futile you and his family have been all this time.”

You dropped your jaw in shock, wishing you had never accepted her help. Anything but this.

“You tricked me. You did bewitch him. You-!”

“You did that yourself. You are the one that accepted to hand me his fate, to perform a powerful ritual that freed him and rid him of what had been holding him back. You should be glad, for you had made his path to glory easier by stepping away from his life. As you should have long ago."

“I did no such thing and I won’t. I won’t abandon him. I will denounce your treachery, and you will be judged. My husband won’t stand for it, he will see through your deceit, he will not be misled so easily.”

She now bore a light smile, as if she was amused. You, on the other hand, were beyond angry.

“You are powerless, my Lady, it is too late. He will never part from me again, nor send me away, even if all of his relatives ask him to. We are linked, you made sure of it when you handed me that eye-patch.”

You paused, feeling very ill all of a sudden.

“I do not believe it. He loves me, he-” you tried, panic taking hold of you at each of her revelations spilled out of her mouth.

She took a menacing step closer.

“You are mistaken, my Lady. He will grow out of his love for you, for you have failed. You have given him a daughter when he needed a son, an heir for when he is King, and that makes you weak,” she explained in a cold tone. “But I can. I will give him a son that will strengthen his claim.”

Blood pumped into your ears and you felt dizzy. You felt completely at loss.

“How dare you…” you tried, feeling tears in your eyes again. “You are a madwoman if you believe that I will let you achieve your plan, I will give him all the children he wants, he does not care for...”

“Oh but I doubt it,” she stated, her face closer to you as she whispered, voice low like a prayer. “Over time, when all of your children die inside your womb before they even see light, he will come to realise your uselessness, and discard you, and only I will remain.”

You clutched your belly, fear taking hold of your whole body, her threat making you shiver. “No…”

“Do not try to cross me, my Lady, or the Prince,” she stated, taking a step back to take a look at your watery eyes and pitiful state. “You cannot do anything to stop it. He will achieve his destiny, and I will see to it, for I have seen it. My visions are everything he hopes for, and more.”

And with that she gave you a soft and glaring gaze, and turned away, leaving you utterly lost, a sour taste in your mouth.

You had hesitated to go straight to Aemond, to try and talk some sense into him, to reverse the spell somehow. But it was no use in your state, nauseous and completely appalled, knees weak and subject to strong and uncontrollable emotions. You stepped away from the brazier, where the smoke made you feel ill, and you let your feet lead you away into the dark, without really knowing where you were going.

Silent tears fell off your cheeks as you tried to think, but your mind was empty.

What could you do against magic? Would confronting Aemond truly not be enough?

Looking up, you saw a massive shadow in the distance, and your feet naturally walked toward it, as if drawn to it. At your approach, the form raised its head and observed you with yellow eyes, curious.

You were close now as Vhagar woke up from her slumber to greet you, and you realised that you were not scared in the least. There was something comforting in being close to another soul that shared so much with your husband.

“Greetings Vhagar,” you said, holding your hand out for her to smell it, to sense your emotions. Melancholy took you.

“Do you miss him as much as I do?” you asked. It was the first thing that came to mind and you were sure her eyes gave you an empathetic look. You continued.

“I did not have the chance to thank you, for saving me, and your rider’s daughter at Bitterbridge,” you said, remembering that night as you flattened your hand under her eye. “You would do anything for him, would you not? Even for his unborn child.”

Her thin pupil was fixed on your face, listening to your every word attentively and she squealed.

It almost made you smile through your tears.

“The bond you share is unbreakable, unique,” you talked softly. “You can sense each other, I know… This is magic, something I cannot understand.”

You grieved for your lack of knowledge about the matter, feeling helpless against someone as powerful as a witch. “I wish I could, so I would know how to counter it…”

“You should not be here! It is dangerous!” someone yelled from afar.

You turned your head at the male’s voice, startling both you and Vhagar who snapped her head up and growled at the form near the edge of the camp. You narrowed your eyes as you made your way toward the man.

“Addam?” you called, now clearly seeing his recognisable feature and armour with the green dragons and white tower coat of arms on it.

He sighed in relief.

“It is you, my Lady! I was scared for the poor soul who dared approach the beast for a moment,” he explained, shooting worried glances toward the she-dragon that still stared at him intensely as you levelled with him. “Are you not scared?”

You looked back at Vhagar, stance protective, wings slightly deployed.

“No, I am not. I think she feels as alone as I am,” you simply replied, trying to hide your surely puffy eyes. “I am glad to see you, my Lord. Did you arrive along with Lord Lannister?”

“I did. I was entrusted with Jacaerys Velaryon's escort to Harrenhal. I saw an opportunity to demand my brother’s safe return from the Wayfarers, as terms are now discussed. But let me accompany you back to your tent. The night is cold,” he said, but his eyes were still darting to Vhagar as he gently took your arms to pull you away.

“I am deeply sorry that none of your attempts to retrieve Hugo had succeeded my Lord. I will pray for him.”

“I thank you, my Lady. But I have hope, all of this thanks to your father’s magnificent work at securing peace terms. This war has lasted too long.”

You nodded in agreement, eyes on the ground as you walked, thinking of everything that could go wrong about this last claim, about everything that was wrong about Aemond. Addam noticed your troubled state.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” he inquired, observing you intensely.

“I only… I only find myself in a difficult situation, my Lord. And I have no idea how to deal with it,” you confessed. Addam had always been a good listener.

“You went through too many tribulations to let something bother you this much. Whatever it is, I am at your service, as I have always been. I could be of help, if you let me.”

You considered it for a moment, but you remembered Alys’s words, of how Aemond would never send her away, being too far gone under her spell. You would only make things worse for you and Addam.

However, the question escaped your lips.

“Do you know anything about sorcery?” you asked, earning a dumbfounded look from your friend as you arrived at your destination.

“Sorcery?” he stopped, thinking. “I am not sure, there are many forms of magic, but why would you-”

He was interrupted when someone opened the drapes of the tent and appeared one of Alicent Hightower’s servants, and behind her, the Queen herself.

“Y/N, where have you been? It is quite late,” she stated, coming closer with Naerys over her shoulder as you and Addam entered the warmth of the tent. She observed your obvious troubled state briefly, her brows knitting in concern before darting her eyes to your companion.

“You are Addam Vance of Atranta, are you not?” she correctly guessed, and Addam bowed at her.

“Indeed, your Grace,” he said with a polite smile. “I apologise for the interruption, I was only escorting Lady Y/N back to her lodgings.”

He glanced at you, silently inquiring about your previous interrupted conversation, asking if you needed him still. But you gave him a smile that you intended to be reassuring, even though you were sure it failed.

Addam nodded and continued:

“I shall leave you alone and bid you goodnight then,” he bowed again. “Your Grace, Lady Y/N.”

His eyes glanced at you one last time, but he stopped in his tracks instantly, his eyes widening. “Lady Y/N? Are you alright? You’re… bleeding.”

You frowned as you brought your hand to your nose, feeling something wet flowing down on your skin. When you looked at your hand again, your fingers were bloody.

Then a sharp pain shot through your skull and you fell onto your knees, crushed by the ache and your vision blurring as you screamed in agony. The blood from your nose was dripping on the floor and you felt the pain travel from your head to your neck, and take hold of your lungs. Breathing hurt, and you could barely register the hands that tried to prevent you from falling.

You had no idea how long it lasted, the pain in your head being the most dolorous, but when it all stopped and you opened your eyes, you were lying down on your bed and several heads were looking down at you.

“My Lady, are you feeling better? Is it your head? Can you talk?” you heard the maester next to you say, and you tried to stand in a sitting position, bringing your hand to your temple to massage them. It was still dark outside.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” your father asked, and you guessed that he had been called as soon as you collapsed, but you didn’t recall him entering.

“Yes I…” you panted. “I just need a moment.”

The blood coming from your nose had stopped but you could see trails of it soaking your gown.

“What is with her maester?” you heard Alicent address the scholar. “Had she fallen ill?”

“I cannot be sure at the moment. From what you told me, your Grace, the symptoms were quite abrupt, we have to see how it develops. I will give her milk of the poppy for the time being.”

“No,” you cut, taking a sharp breath. “I do not want it.”

You knew how milk of the poppy clouded the mind, how it withdrew you from reality and made you fall into slumber, creating illusions and dreams even. You needed your full capacities at the moment, no matter how bad you felt.

You noticed that Addam was still present, and he was the only one who had not spoken, observing your face with a worried expression, eyes fixed on you.

“I will go pray to the Seven for her recovery,” announced Alicent. “I will take care of Naerys also, so you may rest, my dear. This family had suffered enough.”

You nodded, glad to see how much your granddaughter was cared for, at least by one member of her father’s bloodline, you thought bitterly. You let yourself lay down again, your head still throbbing.

All except your father and the maester were dismissed, and accepting an herbal concoction from the latter before falling asleep, all of your forces drained from your body.

Silent tears fell off your cheeks as you tried to think, but your mind was empty.

What could you do against magic? Would confronting Aemond truly not be enough?

“Greetings Vhagar.” you said, holding your hand out for her to smell it, to sense your emotions. Melancholy took you.

“Do you miss him as much as I do?” you asked. It was the first thing that came to mind and you were sure her eyes gave you an empathetic look. You continued.

“I did not have the chance to thank you, for saving me, and your rider’s daughter at Bitterbridge.” you said, remembering that night as you flattened your hand under her eye. “You would do anything for him, would you not? Even for his unborn child.”

Her thin pupil was fixed on your face, listening to your every word attentively and she squealed.

It almost made you smile through your tears.

“The bond you share is unbreakable, unique.” you talked softly. “You can sense each other, I know… This is magic, something I cannot understand.”

You grieved for your lack of knowledge about the matter, feeling helpless against someone as powerful as a witch. “I wish I could, so I would know how to counter it…”

“You should not be here! It is dangerous!” someone yelled from afar.

“Addam?” you called, now clearly seeing his recognizable feature and armour with the green dragons and white towers coat of arms on it.

He sighed in relief.

“It is you my Lady! I was scared for the poor soul who dared approach the beast for a moment.” he explained, shooting worried glances toward the she-dragon that still stared at him intensely as you levelled with him. “Are you not scared?”

You looked back at Vhagar, stance protective, wings slightly deployed.

“No, I am not. I think she feels as alone as I am.” you simply replied, trying to hide your surely puffy eyes. “I am glad to see you, my Lord. Did you arrive along with Lord Lannister?”

“I did. I was entrusted with Jacaerys Velaryon's escort to Harrenhal. I saw an opportunity to demand my brother’s safe return from the Wayfarers, as terms are now discussed. But let me accompany you back to your tent. The night is cold.” he said, but his eyes were still darting to Vhagar as he gently took your arms to pull you away.

“I am deeply sorry that none of your attempts to retrieve Hugo had succeeded my Lord. I will pray for him.”

“I thank you, my Lady. But I have hope, all of this thanks to your father’s magnificent work at securing peace terms. This war has lasted too long.”

“Are you alright my Lady?” he inquired, observing you intensely.

“I only… I only find myself in a difficult situation, my Lord. And I have no idea how to deal with it.” you confessed. Addam had always been a good listener.

“You went through too many tribulations to let something bother you this much. Whatever it is, I am at your service, as I have always been. I could be of help, if you let me.”

You considered it for a moment, but you remembered Alys’s words, of how Aemond would never send her away, being too far gone under her spell. You would only make things worse for you and Addam.

However, the question escaped your lips.

“Do you know anything about sorcery?” you asked, earning a dumbfounded look from your friend as you arrived at your destination.

“Sorcery?” he stopped, thinking. “I am not sure, there are many forms of magic, but why would you-”

He was interrupted when someone opened the drapes of the tent and appeared one of Alicent Hightower’s servants, and behind her, the Queen herself.

“Y/N, where have you been? It is quite late.” she stated, coming closer with Naerys over her shoulder as you and Addam entered the warmth of the tent. She observed your obvious troubled state briefly, her brows knitting in concern before darting her eyes to your companion.

“You are Addam Vance of Atranta, are you not?” she correctly guessed, and Addam bowed at her.

“Indeed, your Grace.” he said with a polite smile. “I apologise for the interruption, I was only escorting Lady Y/N back to her lodgings.”

Addam nodded and continued:

“I shall leave you alone and bid you goodnight then.” he bowed again. “Your Grace, Lady Y/N.”

His eyes glanced at you one last time, but he stopped in his tracks instantly, his eyes widening. “Lady Y/N? Are you alright? You’re… bleeding.”

You frowned as you brought your hand to your nose, feeling something wet flowing down on your skin. When you looked at your hand again, your fingers were bloody.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” your father asked, and you guessed that he had been called as soon as you collapsed, but you didn’t recall him entering.

“Yes I…” you panted. “I just need a moment.”

The blood coming from your nose had stopped but you could see trails of it soaking your gown.

“What is with her maester?” you heard Alicent address the scholar. “Had she fallen ill?”

“I cannot be sure at the moment. From what you told me your Grace, the symptoms were quite abrupt, we have to see how it develops. I will give her milk of the poppy for the time being.”

“No.” you cut, taking a sharp breath. “I do not want it.”

You noticed that Addam was still present, and he was the only one who had not spoken, observing your face with a worried expression, eyes fixed on you.

“I will go pray to the Seven for her recovery.” announced Alicent. “I will take care of Naerys also, so you may rest my dear. This family had suffered enough.”

You nodded, glad to see how much your granddaughter was cared for, at least by one member of her father’s bloodline, you thought bitterly. You let yourself laid down again, your head still throbbing.

All except your father and the maester were dismissed, and accepting an herbal concoction from the latter before falling asleep, all of your forces drained from your body.

When you woke up at dawn, the first thing on your mind was to see Aemond, as if your life depended on it. You still felt very sore from the pain you had experienced last night, but your mind was set on Alys and what she had planned, and although you dreaded what you had to do, your will was stronger than the ache.

The maester came early in order to examine you and provide you more healing serums, forcing you to delay your plan to visit your husband, and when you finally were allowed to walk outside, you were, of course, stopped by the one person you dreaded at the moment.

“Good morning, my Lady,” she greeted, but there was no warmth in her tone. You gritted your teeth.

“Let me pass,” you demanded.

“I heard of your recent woes, my Lady. I only came to be of service," she said with a honeyed voice. “Has your vision started to fail you yet?”

You took a step back, baffled.

“You… You did this?”

A flash of satisfaction passed briefly in her eyes, happy that you had caught on so quickly.

“Did you not know that magic came with a price? You should be happy to have granted your husband such a long life. I can only hope to make this easier for you.”

You wished nothing more than to have brought a dagger with you.

“You…” you snarled, feeling sick. “You will pay for this.”

“You should rest,” she cut. “I warned you, bad things could happen if you try to impede his path to glory. Stay away, and maybe you will be healthy enough to raise your daughter in peace.”

And with that she turned, leaving you once again alone and horrified, powerless. You close your eyes in pain, feeling your body respond to whatever she had inflicted on you and you felt your knees buckle.

“I have you, my Lady,” you heard a voice say next to you, strong arms suddenly preventing you from falling.

Addam.

You have not seen him come out from behind a nearby banner, and you had no idea how he had rushed to your side. “Addam? I-… what…”

He grabbed your shoulder in order to ground you, allowing you to rest your weight on him. You could now glance at him and you saw a furious glare in his eyes that you had never witnessed within him, even in King’s Landing.

When he spoke, his tone was low, determined.

“I fear that prayers from the Queen won’t be enough,” he stated, and you felt him seethe with irritation. “If dark magic is involved, we will need far more drastic means.”

A/N: Alys lovers - please don't hate me.

-0- Part 32

Thank you @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan for the beta reading

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget@jeyramarie@ephemeralninon@mrswhitethornbelikov@dudfahsn@missusnora@queenofterrasen418@honeytrapsblogp-graham@heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88@ivartheblessed@xceafh@bubbletae7@omgkatherine01@tzipora-art@signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs@bietchz@samnblack@mariaelizabeth21-blog1@projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal@polireader@zillahvathek@moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749@claudie-080102@ebaylee422@hydrationqueensworld@crumblychunksofheaven@officiallyunofficialperson@grungegrrrl@stargaryenx @dark-night-sky-99 @notanenthucutlet @saeselkie

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blessedarethebinarybreakers · 12 days

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I've been struggling a lot with anxiety and depression about COVID. Only one person in my immediate family still regularly wears a mask, and even my friends and significant other don't often wear them. I feel like the most I've been able to do is continue to try to model good practice by masking most of the time, but I don't directly address the issue with anyone. I wonder sometimes if I should be distancing myself from friends and family that don't mask. I've felt really alone and hurt, because it seems like people don't care about making spaces safe for people who are immunocompromised. The most hope I get is from seeing people around me at the grocery store and on public transport who still mask. I've felt especially deep disappointment in the church, because I thought we were supposed to take care of each other and take care of those who society marginalizes, but so many people there have stopped masking too. I also feel a lot of anxiety that *I'm* not doing enough. Do you have any place you draw hope / comfort from when it comes to COVID issues? (I know this message is a lot of anxious thoughts, so no worries if you aren't able to respond.)

Ach anon, I'm sorry for the delay; this hits very close to home. I am with you in your frustration, your sense of isolation, your lament. This got really long, so my TL;DR is this prayer:

The Body of Christ has COVID.

The Body of Christ is immunocompromised.

Blessed are they who cannot go to church, because to do so would risk their health and lives, for God hears their grief; God holds them in their loneliness; God treasures their worship wherever it takes place.

Blessed are they who keep on masking — even when it feels useless, even when facing mockery or pressure — for theirs is the Kin-dom where the last are first, the oppressed are lifted high.

Blessed are they who mourn and rage against unjust systems, for they will be given the courage and strength they need to join God's revolution.

___

Now the long response. I feel your pain — especially your disappointment with faith communities that stopped requiring masks long ago — for so many of us (and it really is so many of us, even if distance and silence makes it easy for each person to feel like they're the only person hurt, the only person who gives a damn), that's been just the latest bead in a long string of disillusionment at human iterations of Church.

How indeed can we claim to follow the one who makes his home among those the world calls "least," when we fail the bare minimum steps at ensuring such people can at the very least enter our spaces without risking their health and lives??

It's a stark reminder that the Church as a human institution =/= the Body of Christ — and sadly, in fact, often makes itself hostile to that Body. We are called to prioritize, to center, to treat with greatest honor those parts of the Body that are most vulnerable (1 Cor 12).

It's no wonder so many of us end up seeking spiritual homes outside Church, when Church tends to center the very opposite kinds of people. Meanwhile, others stay, calling Church out for these failings and calling Church into a better way. (I personally find myself on a tightrope between those two options — taking frequent breaks from capital C Church to find spiritual nourishment beyond it, and to fuel myself to step back in and keep calling for that better way, as many times as it takes.)

___

I wish I had more comfort to offer, places I find encouragement. I'm definitely with you that seeing others masking out and about is huge balm to my soul. It's so easy to feel utterly alone in this, but we aren't! There are others who care, who are dong their small part, and it does matter!

...But mostly I just have shared lament — which is the soul's outcry that this is not how things are meant to be:

"[Lament is] an innate awareness that what is should not be. As if something is written on our hearts that tells us exactly what we are meant for, and whenever confronted with something contrary to this, we experience a crumbling. And in the rubble, we say, God, you promised. We ask, Why?" - Cole Arthur Riley, This Here Flesh

Make space for lament. Hold on to the truth that this really is not how things are meant to be, that God has promised something better — and that therefore, something better is coming! It is unfolding right now, every time one small person, one small community, chooses to believe that a better world is possible, and acts on that belief.

This truth in a better world is not shallow progressivism, the idea that the future will automatically be better than the past — we can look around and see how false that is! Assuming that things will just magically work themselves out lulls us into passivity.

No, this is a truth with teeth, with a loud voice, with feet and hands ready to join the Spirit's movement in making the arc of the universe bend towards justice, dammit, because it sure as hell won't bend that way by itself.

___

...Whoops, I'm rambling far beyond just masking lol— but the failure to keep masking seems like such a stark example of everything that is holding us back from justice that it's hard for me not to start thinking bigger!

When it comes to masking, you are doing your part. It's our wider communities that are failing — and I don't just mean individuals within those communities.

When I find my rage and despair about COVID directing itself towards individuals — whether that's churchgoers and colleagues, or close friends, or strangers I pass at the store — I try to remind myself that my anger and lament are better directed towards whole systems that are keeping us trapped in this horrific cycle of intentional ignorance or despair and isolation.

It's absolutely okay to feel hurt and frustrated by loved ones who don't hear us when we ask for their support. It does hurt! I wish it were easier to convince people to just wear a dang mask! And also, at some point we have to focus on what powers hold them captive, influencing their decision to go about their day as if COVID isn't still happening.

Why have people stopped masking — if they ever masked at all? Who profits when misinformation runs rampant? when people isolate for a couple days tops before heading back to work, still sick with a potentially disabling or deadly disease? when elderly and immunocompromised people, and people shoved away into nursing homes and prisons, and immigrants, etc. are left to die of COVID in private as everyone else goes about their day in a public with no room for such people?

And most of all, who profits when everyone feels so helpless about it all, resigned to COVID continuing far into the future, that they decide there's no point in them being the "only ones" to keep masking?

This isn't the post to carry on about those systems lol, but I do want to briefly name them so that no one can misinterpret what I'm saying into some conspiracy theory:

I'm talking about capitalism and fascism, about neoliberalism and nationalism and hyper-individualism. The systems that have allowed billionaires to become even richer during a global pandemic; that have allowed politicians to gain further control with an anti-vax agenda or by blaming one foreign entity or another for all our troubles; that have keep everyday people so exhausted and isolated and feeling so helpless that they don't have the time or energy to research fact over falsehood, or to take even small steps to protect themselves people they care about.

The failure to mask is a symptom — a major, deadly symptom, but just a symptom nevertheless — of the oppressive forces holding us all captive. I honestly don't know if remembering that just leads to more anger and grief, or whether it can motivate us to keep fighting those bigger evils. I think for me it depends on the day.

Sometimes I have a little despair session; I rant and rage against anyone and everything.

Then I pull myself out of that despair — or, more often, I allow someone to pull me out of it, with a suggestion for one tiny way I can make a change.

___

Sorry this is so long. Not sure how helpful it was, but I am with you, anon. I feel and respect all you are feeling.

And I'm so grateful for your continued masking, even when it feels like you're the only person left doing it — you're not, and it's not useless. Maybe someone who sees you masking will think about pulling a mask back on themselves; or even just that they're overdue for their next COVID booster. Maybe someone will see you and remember that some people do care about chronically ill people like them.

Keep on going; you are not alone. Solidarity forever <3

#covid #church hurt #lament #masking #if anyone has any ideas or encouragement to add please do!

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