#traitresse

[ofspvrta]

θ::|| @traitresse​ liked for a lyric starter: “alone” - miette hope

              “I've got nothing to offer to make you understand.”

[betterthanher3]

[inbrunstig]

@traitresse​ asked  “should we take this elsewhere?”

The Warden pauses, thinking it over. This would be an exceptional way to get into trouble, especially while supposedly under the Inquisition’s banner. 

She decided she didn’t care all that much. They would be able to berate her later. At least Briala would come to no harm if she was in the presence of Sascha.

“You did say it, not me,” Sascha points out, but it’s impish in nature, a smile pulling at lips. Still, she glances around the empty hallway, at uncharted waters that she most certainly was not familiar with.

“Perhaps you should lead the way, considering your familiarity with the area,” Sascha offers, chuckling.

[enola6]

Thrawn II- A Traitress to the Empire

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In the vast embrace of spring’s offspring, which sent seeds to sprawl across the grand garden of the Batonnese castle, a beloved young queen sat on her cushions and played her double viol as her ladies in waiting watched and sipped on imported quanya . It was very rare that the queen was seen without her heavy crowns and dresses with trains so long they would need to be carried by servants or the castle’s handmaidens. A soft ‘meow’ was heard , causing a palace guard to turn around into the hallway , no longer on the balcony where the women lay. It was only Jankie. Taking advantage of the opened door, she ran and jumped on her mistress, who jolted when the new weight was added to her stomach.

“Kayyidl,” the Queen called to her guard; she did not even need to turn to know which one of them had accidentally made way for the loth-cat to find herself onto the delicate robes of her mistress. “You see , if that was an enemy of house (L/N)-Mitth, I would have been penetrated by some sort of saber or blaster by now, no?”

She arose from her cushion with Jankie in her hands as the handmaidens and noble ladies laughed , all the while Kayyidl blushed under his armor. She offered him a kind smile and handed the tiny creature to Uiona , one of her ladies in waiting, who stood so proud to wear the symbolic jewelry of the Queen’s crest. 

“I apologize , my princess …” He stuttered when he caught his mistake and stumbled upon his words , “I mean, Lady Mitth.”

“What are you , corporal? An imperial?” The Lady Mona inquired with a large smile.

“She is ‘Her royal majesty, the Queen (Y/N) Mitth'raw'nuruodo of Batonn, Acting Empress of the Batonn sector and Chief of Batonn’s Minning Operations.’”

“I can never say that Chiss name correctly.” One of the ladies remarked.

“Neither can I. My brother can say it perfectly.” (Y/N) strolled over to the edge of the balcony, where she peered over. Placing both hands on the stone railing, she gazed onto the fields of green. Only in spring would you  see such a thing. It was then that she noticed a walking figure. A tall figure in the traditional clothing of a Batonnese Count. “Knowing him, he sat in a dark room alone and practiced it over and over and over again.” 

The ladies laughed, and she waited for the inevitable question as to how her handsome and eligible bachelor brother was doing in the imperial navy.

As the Queen so commonly did , she remarked, “I must go,” and lifted her skirts, and ran from the balcony and the everlasting hallways that never seemed to end. The women called after her, but she ignored them all to rush down the many stairs which brought her to the ground floor. The castle servants, being used to (Y/N)’s outbursts , still bowed to her dashing frame and greeted her as they would if she walked . 

Pushing open the heavy doors, her hair flew in the wind, and her shawl nearly fell from her shoulders. 

“Clvtorig!” she called to the man who fell to rest on the field of grass. “Clvtorig!” He heard her very well and clear over the chirps of birds and buzzing of bees , new to spring. He groaned and acted annoyed when she kicked him with her foot. “Count Clvtorig, did you suddenly go deaf after your little vacation to Coruscant?”

“A vacation hardly , my queen. Listening to imps gossip will drive even the strongest man insane.” 

“Get up,” she kicked once again.

The Count rolled to his side, now turning from the sky to the waterway that separated the castle from the rest of Paeragosto City. As lively as ever, speeders and people roamed the streets and roads; their buzz could be heard from the gardens. Instead of getting up as ordered, Clvtorig grabbed (Y/N) by her ankles so as to drag her down to the comfort of the soft grass. “Ask your gardeners what they use to fertilize this grass , will you? I plan to make  the grass at my estate as soft as her royal majesty's.”

“And soft grass you will have, your grace, if only you will tell me what they say about Lady Mitth on Coruscant.” Her laugh was music to his ears, for it was genuine and true, unlike the laughs heard on Coruscant.  And because of this, he smiled and turned to her, dangerously close.

Ever since her marriage and forced introduction into imperial society, (Y/N) had tasked Count Clvtorig Tronstad of Paeragosto with attending the social gatherings on Coruscant as a spy to hear the gossip as she put it. No, he wasn’t a spy according to the young Queen of Batonn, he was simply a listener . He would fly back to Batonn with all the latest gossip coming from the mouths of fat imperial wives. In return , she paid him a hefty sum of credits . But he was an old friend, the Queen and him had played in the hidden oases since they were young. They were almost engaged , but then Thrawn forced himself into the house of (L/N). He thought of all the times he spent with her in their youth, then was brought back to maddening reality. 

“There are rumors,” he replied.

“Rumors?” She gestured to her bump. “I suppose this has something to do with it?”

“Yes, (Y/N), rumors and no, little Thrawn has nothing to do with it. They say that you are having an affair which explains as to why you have been consistently seen on Scrim Island and outside Paeragosto.” He yawned, then started making designs with the clouds in the ever-blue sky , “It seems we have a spy in our midsts.” 

(Y/N) used her arm to support herself as she lifted her head from the grass, her face was obviously red with frustration and anger as her other hand was used to grip the grass from its stems.

“Oh?”

“Hold it All mighty empress of the Batonn Sector. Would you rather have them believe you are having an affair , or that you are aiding rebels?”

Her grip loosened and she laid back down.

“Who says such things?”

“Thalassa Tarkin.”

“Oh that dreadful woman, she’s hated me since I was introduced as the Grand Admiral’s wife.”

“Well, she’s going to hate you even more when the little chiss is born. You know, she was even telling the other imps about your ‘friendship’ and about how close you two are . She was even speaking of coming to this ‘uncivilized’ planet to help you give birth .”

“And why would she ever do such a thing?”

“Well (Y/N), because your parents are dead and you have no one else to help you go through an alien pregnancy which could possibly kill you.”

“I have Seren, thank you very much.”

“Seren of Flor?” Clvtorig questioned with an eyebrow raised. (Y/N) always found it funny when he did that. “The Last time she had a child was a millennium ago.”

(Y/N) arose and began pacing around the soft grass . She couldn’t help but laugh and lose her train of thought, nearly tripping on nothing. 

‘Well I guess you’re right.” Then she snapped and pointed at him as if she had thought of something smarter “Lady Okann Veath.”

“Didn’t she die in the Creekpath Mining explosion, something that Pryce girl blames you for , by the way.”

“Do not forget that I was attending school on Hosnian Prime when the mine exploded. Also, my cousin married a Pryce , she should show me the same respect as family .”

“Isn’t the killer coming to Batonn to visit .”

(Y/N) offered her dear friend a kind smile and picked a blue flower from the grass. “My husband comes today.” she held the small thing to her nose and smelled a foreign scent unfamiliar to Batonn. “ The imperials have allegedly found a new source of doonium just north of the continent.”

“Will Tannian arrive with the party?”

“Party? It is only the Grand Admiral .”

“The Grand Admiral and the Tarkins…”

“The Tarkins!” she yelled a little too  loudly.

Strong wind blew from behind the Queen, nearly pushing her over onto the Count. She moved her hands so that they would block her hair from blowing into her eyes as she looked into the sky.

“It seems that is them.” He watched her eyes widen and focus on the grey that clouded the sky, casting a shadow over both of them before landing on a pad. “ I would run along now, little empress. You don’t want Thalassa seeing you in anything but your best ”

When he turned, she was no longer there but yards away from where she previously lay. The white of her loose dress danced in the wind, getting tangled in the (H/C) of her hair which she wore down, something unbecoming of a Batonnese queen who was expected to always look her best.

“Run (Y/N)! Run!”

But this young queen was at odds with some traditions passed from her forefathers, or so it seemed. For instance, one incident most could remember was when the Queen did not remove her crown when greeting Governor Restos and Grand Moff Tarkin ,whom governed Batonn and the Outer Rim therefore ranking above her. Oh all the gossip it caused was unbearable for that was all anyone would speak of until the next scandal occurred. It was Batonnese tradition when greeting one higher than you, the Emperor of the Batonn Sector for instance, to remove and hold your crown as a symbol of submission, though the Queen refused to do so. 

Many just brushed it off as ignorance but she later removed her crown when her brother arrived. 

For all imperial officers outranked those in a traditional monarchy.

“Uiona!” she called to the sole woman in her bedchamber. The doors made a tremendous sound when they were cast open , startling Jankie who awoke from her slumber. “My husband has arrived and I am not decent….” she stuttered as she looked around the closet for something quick and easy to put on.

“Your Majesty …” and (Y/N) turned to the woman she had long called the swiftest to see her holding her dress-military uniform. “It would be the fastest to put on… if we skip a few medals.” 

She simply nodded and began to hastily undress.

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Her boots made clacks against the cold floor, alerting the guards and servants of her presence. They all knelt when she passed them, her handmaidens following behind her in dresses of black and gold to compliment the Queen’s military uniform ; some of them seemed mad that they had to quickly change, one of them more than the others. They always wore garbs which were mundane but intricate to compliment what their Queen wore. For the Queen was always meant to be the prime focus when she entered a room, whether she liked it or not .

She reached the immaculate doors, looking up to the window which was above it. She couldn’t see the shuttle , but she knew it was there. She could feel it. “Guards.” acknowledged them and suddenly she felt small and meek. The last time she had seen Thrawn, it was when she was coronated. She had been pressured by her brother to sleep with him, to have his child in hopes of protecting her family. Though she highly doubted even sharing his blood would protect the Batonnese crown, or at least allow for some leniency. Uiona noticed her feel the part of her uniform which covered her womb, she only slightly showed but it was noticeable to anyone who stared at her for a while.

He had written to her , but she had not yet notified him personally of her pregnancy. She wondered how he would react, she wondered how her people would react. He was Chiss, cold and feared. And though the Batonnese were diverse and educated on aliens and near-humans, she feared the integration of an imperial alien into the pureness of Batonn’s royal blood would create even more tension than what was already present. 

“Guards!” She called, “Open the door.”

And the doors opened as she ordered. 

The light blinded her and she fought the urge to turn and run back to the sanctuary of her bedchamber. 

She stepped forward and took a large breath. ‘

“I present to the The Honorable Queen and acting Empress (Y/N) Mitth of Batonn and the Batonn Sector,” she stared straight into the abyss, avoiding eye contact with the imperials who stood before her. “Grand Moff Tarkin , his consort Lady Thalassa Tarkin and Grand Admiral Thrawn, consort to the Queen of Batonn. Batonn welcomes you.” The announcer stopped his yell and bowed to the two groups of people. An evident tension appeared between them . 

Guards of Batonn stared down stormtroopers who nudged them and strolled in front of them, even catching the attention of the Queen.

“Lady Tarkin, Gentleman,” she officially greeted, looking down at the older woman, “It is always a pleasure though I admit you caught me off guard,” she wanted to mention the disturbance of Lady Tarkin though she decided to avoid conflict with the dreadful woman, anything to avoid a conversation. “You see I was riding in the fields.”

“Do you truly believe you should be riding in your condition?” and the Governor's wife gestured to the Queen’s bump, bringing up the unbearable. The screech of trumpets could not mask the malevolence in the crone’s voice. If only they were on a barren world resting in the unknown regions, then she would have her way the Queen thought.

“A little riding cannot hurt one’s-”

“Oh Grand Admiral, are you not happy I am here ? Your young wife is so helpless she could kill your heir-.”

“Enough, Thalassa.” Grand Moff Tarkin hushed his wife while simultaneously looking upon the Batonnese Queen who never seemed to enjoy his sinister presence. “Lady Mitth, it's a pleasure to be welcomed so graciously. Your planet is as impressive as reports say. I look forward to seeing the growing potential Batonn has in aiding the Empire.”

“The pleasure is mine, Governor. My people are honored by your presence and this is Lady Tarkin’s first tour of Batonn so we hope to impress you with our dedication to the empire.”  

(Y/N) looked upon her arranged husband with a face that simply showed confusion and guilt, an odd combination . She had secretly wished that he would have arrived before the Tarkins , so that they were allowed some alone time. She would tell him that she had secretly missed him, but the words would just simply escape her lips as she became overwhelmed in the moment.

“Your highness,” Uiona approached the Queen and whispered so faintly even she could barely hear, “The kitchen staff have a meal prepared for your guests.”

“Very well,” she beckoned to a guard with her hand to get ready and close the door. “We have a meal prepared for you , my handmaidens will escort you to your rooms , then to the dining room where I will join you. Now excuse me.”

A guard situated on the highest tower of the castle lit a blue fire, a symbol of a visitor arriving. It glistened and grew larger and larger as the sun set. The growing fire almost obscured his view of the landing pad, but he could still see his dear friend and noble Queen. He stared down at the launch pad where the shuttle still laid. His black mask of fabric blew in his eyes with his eyeshadow rubbing on the already black fabric. From the sheer black, he watched his Queen stand to the left, her hair blowing in the wind as it came out of her bun. He smiled, her loose hair must have been the product of his long conversation with her in the garden. 

The palace staff had already been stiff following the arrival of Governor Restos who had originally roomed in a large bedchamber on the first floor. But he complained of the view overlooking the city, complaining that the soot from the mines would travel to his room and cause him to fall ill. So he ordered that he be moved to the second floor.

When (Y/N) originally heard of his order she found it to be peculiar for the city, though viewable from the window, was still many miles away. But she had more pressing matters at hand. And that pressing matter had just strolled into her home. 

“Ladies,” the queen vocalized as she took off her cover, letting the door close behind her. “Tend to Governor Tarkin and his wife , show them the same respect you  would show me.” They all bowed and gave the robotic “yes, your majesty” and went along their way.

She was then left alone in the echoing chamber.

She slouched and ran her hand through her hair, sighing as her eyes became watery. Maybe it was the stress of being queen, or maybe it was the flux of hormones that came with pregnancy… she didn’t know.

“Your majesty!” 

The Queen turned to her handmaiden , Shínrin, who bowed to her queen and held a little green box. 

“The Grand Admiral is staying in your royal bedchamber  and is there right now. I… I just wanted to notify you.”

“Of course.” and she nodded, dismissing the handmaiden who bowed and shuffled in the direction of the dinning hall. 

“Wait, your majesty.” and the girl came running back with the utmost haste, not caring if anyone saw her act in such an indecent matter. It even caused (Y/N)’s eyes to widen , never seeing Shínrin act in such a manner. Shínrin was a woman who came from the northern city of Tavonia , a city which held the chateaus of many high ranking imperial officers, it was also a city which went against the orders of the king and sided with the empire and housed their missiles deep within their majestic mountains. Those mountains are beautiful but covered with sand. It is where (Y/N) met Shínrin, many years ago over a short summer holiday to her father’s chateau, where the future queen was first introduced to the imperial flag.  It is even rumored that Shínrin broke her betroval to a rebel sympathizer, only for his political views which very much mattered in the political climate of Batonn. “I was told to hand you this.” 

The green box was handed to (Y/N) who looked down at the box and ran her fingers over its surface.

“By who?”

“A man who came walking down the stairs… I must go”  

She seemed in such a hurry, nearly tripping over her own dress. (Y/N) watched her scurry and placing the tiny box in her brassière, she decided to investigate it later.

(Y/N) then looked to the large stairway that seemed to reach the moon.

 ‘A long ways trek to my room’ she thought.

She began walking up the stairs, counting each step. She twiddled her cover , her only distraction from the overly lit staircase. 

Though it felt like an eternity, she soonly reached her room but paused before entering. Guards moved from her way as she dismissed them , always obeying their queen. 

Hell, it was her room , she should feel comfortable entering and undressing in her own room. A room in which she had resided since birth; where she had wrapped her dying father’s wounds and where her unborn child was conceived. Where a sparrow dies, an everlily grows. 

She felt anxious opening the door, but saw no one once she stepped in and looked around. Letting out a sigh of relief , she removed her coat and threw it on her vanity stool. Her blouse simply fell from her shoulders and reached the ledge of the stool, the box unknowingly falling to the floor.

There was a dress already prepared for her , hanging on the wall near the vanity. Looking around the room, she noticed luggage that had the tags of an imperial officer and wanted to vomit. They were empty, meaning that the contents of the bags had already been emptied and put away somewhere in her room. She kicked the trash with her foot, already beginning to dress in the white dress Uiona had most likely  prepared for her. Usually, handmaidens would help her dress, but she had ordered all of them with other tasks. Besides , how hard was it to button a dress? Well, it was proving to be quite difficult for the buttons sewed into the back of her dress where proving difficult  to reach. 

She was so concentrated on her dress that she did not notice her guest walk from the balcony. He had been there the whole time, admiring the scenery of a planet he once fought.

“My wife, your presence brings light to this vacuous room.”

Whipping her head around  she gasped and rendered a “hello, husband.” while holding the fabric of her dress. How awkward . She related herself to be almost naked with an open back. 

“I admit I did not expect you to come so early I admit. I apologize for the bedraggled and void state of our room.”

“No need to apologize,” he strolled over and buttoned the back of her dress as if he had done so many times before. “I understand you are preparing for an expected change.”

She turned to face him once he placed his warm hands on her shoulders, signaling to her he was done. 

“I wanted to tell you in person. To show you…”

“It seems we have much to discuss , (Y/N). I have neglected you for far too long.” He caught a loose piece of her hair and moved his gaze to his new fascination. (Y/N) only held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t question her on her whereabouts. “But that unfortunately will have to wait .” he offered her his arm and she latched onto it.

“Let us join your guests. Then we will have our much needed alone time.”

Crunching her nose, she wondered what he meant by that statement that seemed to so easily dance off the tip of his tongue . The setting sun offered minimal light as they left the room, but it managed to sculpt his face and showcase his blank expression. ‘Always such a Chiss.’ she thought.

Behind her dress there was a long cape made of clear crystals and gems which had been mined from the innards of her planet. She remembered the gems being presented to her father once, and he handpicked the shiniest ones to be sewed into her mother’s clothing. This cape once belonged to her mother, but the regalness now sits in (Y/N)’s closet. 

The door to the dining room was opened and the couple walked in, their auras contrasting with each other. It was noticed by the handmaidens who stood against the wall and the guardsmen who had opened the door, one of them recognized her mother’s cape. Thalassa turned her head and followed the two handmaidens who came and detached the cape from her dress to allow her to properly sit with her eyes. 

“Now that is the Queen of Batonn.” Thalassa exclaimed, “That is the stately woman I’ve read so much about. Not that savage mess you presented yourself as only an hour ago.”

(Y/N) noticed Governor Tarkin rub his face into his palm, obviously annoyed at his wife. 

She took her seat, not at the head of the table where she usually sat but towards the side. Well, she was about to sit in her usual seat before the smaller chair to the side next to Governor Restos was pulled out by Thrawn, awaiting her to sit before he tucked it in. Thrawn and Governor Tarkin both claimed the head seats with immediate and taut superiority. In an open and exhausting way , (Y/N) pouted, but only a little so as to not make it obvious to no other than her husband. She would surely bring this up during their talk tonight.

“Well, Lady Tarkin,” (Y/N) began to speak, noticing that the woman and her husband had already began eating “I apologize if my appearance so heavily offended-” 

“Why were you wearing the same uniform your people wore while fighting against the forces of my husband and yours?” she questioned sternly before turning to her husband , “surely you will not allow such a thing.” 

Tarkin rolled his eyes as Restos placed his fork down and swallowed his last serving of potatoes. 

“We allowed the Batonnese to keep their uniforms due to the morranshees.”

“The native species.” (Y/N) chimed.

“We found that the morranshees were more responsive to their uniforms rather than ours due to their incredibly strong recognition.”

Morranshees had only seen the face of the queen they hated so once, and it had been when the Queen was only a young princess. It was cold that day, so cold that it froze the lake on her grandmother’s estate, allowing her to skate. Everyone else had been growing warm inside when a Morranshee came with his staff and smacked her against a tree which stood tall but no longer proud. It was a visiting jedi who saved her, though she no longer remembered his name.

They hated the crown. They hated her. Her forefathers had enslaved them to work in the mines, and now they were being exported to different parts of the galaxy. 

“You have no need to fret, my Lady” Restos continued “We made sure any Morranshee settlements within a certain radius were swept. Destroyed.”

“Well , it seems that I won’t be leaving the castle.” she joked with a guffawing laugh.

Thrawn studied his wife and the reaction she was cloaking. Over time it became easier to read her, as with all humans. Looking at her hands, he noticed her clenching the knife and fork which caused her knuckles to turn pink. He also noticed the quick and disguised smile she flashed at her before taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh no,dear. Don’t drink that.” and the older woman walked from her seat and snatched the drink from (Y/N)’s hand. It was a glass of quanya, something she had served to the rest of her guests. “It will hurt the baby.” 

The Queen remained frozen , unable to even move the tiniest muscle besides her left eye which twitched. It had been many years since a nanny had removed something forcibly from her hands. Such a simple action made her feel as though she were a child who did not know right from wrong. It was unbelievable , but (Y/N) looked at her husband and decided to bite her tongue as Lady Tarkin endlessly babbled about “how grateful the grand admbril should be that she was here to watch after his  young wife”.

She found the words being spatted from the woman’s mouth to be doltish. It seemed her husband felt the same.

“Now that that's over.” the Grand Moff placed his napkin on his plate, indicating that he had finished dining. “Lady Mitth, there is a rumor that you will inherit the late Senator Ruser’s seat on Coruscant.”

It was her brother Ruser who had inherited the throne from her father and therefore he also inherited the seat on the senate. He wasn’t trusted nor was he liked by the others who shared seats with him on Coruscant , so he was Governor Pryce and the traitor prince who wished them all dead. Truth be told, she had only been to Coruscant once and that was to visit her brother and his promotion ceremony. She rarely left Batonn.

“I think Lady Mitth will make an excellent senator. With her devotion to the empire and imperial navy , she’ll certainly win some allies once we allocate our mining projects to the military.” Restos said as he turned to Thrawn , as if the queen no longer existed in the room. He ignored her as he had always done before.

“Well, that will have to wait, Governor.” The Queen interrupted, “For i’d prefer to stay on Batonn in my state.”

“I would much prefer it if you remained with Imperial medical care.” Thrawn voiced to his wife. “Hybrid pregnancies are known to be quite treacherous.”

“The future sovereign of Batonn will be born on Batonn.”  She almost wanted to laugh.

Her handmaidens grew uneasy for they feared that their queen would say something else even more dense which would lead to another punishment bestowed upon her. Shínrin’s knuckles grew yellow as the pitcher she held shook due to her clenching. Her eyes watched Thrawn, understanding his body language through countless spying and eavesdropping. Glancing at the disguised Count Clvtorig, who wore the armor of a palace guard, she noticed him shake his head at the Queen , hoping she would notice his signals of succor.

The Grand Admiral, The Grand Moff and the Batonnese Governor looked amongst each other. For it was believed by Governor Restos and Tarkin that the vexed queen would become more subservient to her husband and the empire once she grew with child. It was even the Grand Moff who astonishingly suggested that Thrawn impregnate his bride as soon as he was able, after it was found that parts of her family had aided the rebels. Though no evidence of her interception in the attack was found, Tarkin had his suspicions. 

The Grand Admiral stood at parade rest in the dim room as he discussed the presence of his fleet with Governor Tarkin over the holoprojector. It was meant to be a quick call , but Tarkin had just been given records from Governor Pryce indicating that a certain Batonnese senator had been stealing and reprogramming imperial droids , turning them on their own. Thrawn listened carefully and closely , surprised by the senator's betrayal.

“So the senator and all those who corresponded in this attack will be executed.” Tarkin explained, concluding his report. “I am sending an agent to Batonn for I suspect the Princess was aware of this interception… of sorts.”

“We should just execute them all.” Captain Slavic spat , speaking without turn. “These Batonnese are proving to be more of a liability than asset.”

“Retaining Batonn’s monarchy is essential in the compliance of the Batonnese people.” Thrawn replied to his subordinate , “To understand why the emperor opted to conserve their monarchy is to understand their culture. The Batonn Insurgency would have suffered far more casualties if the monarchy was stripped.” 

Tarkin paused for a moment before returning to speech .

“Captain, you are dismissed. Return to your duties.” 

Tarkin watched as the younger man faded from the holoprojector. Now it was solely him and the Grand Admiral. He related the marital and political issues of the Grand Admiral to his own, for  Garoche seemed to have kept Thalassa occupied before he grew.

“Grand Admiral, might I suggest start a family with the princess . It would surely shut her up and keep her from trouble . It would also send a sign I believe, a sign of submission to the empire.”

“I will surely take that into consideration, Governor.”

“I am authorizing shore leave for you , go to Batonn and see what you can do.”

Having a child with a human woman , no less the pure Queen of an important planet, would also help the chiss become more accepted by the xenophobic humans who littered the empire. And Thrawn did admit that after introducing (Y/N) (L/N) Mitth'raw'nuruodo as his wife, he saw less of the common scorn of his human coworkers. He also noticed more compliance.

“I have already arranged for your departure to Coruscant with the best doctors-”

“My child will be born on Batonn!” 

And though she did not yell, it was made apparent that she did. 

“Lady Mitth,” Tarkin interrupted the nearly arguing couple, “It seems that you have forgotten that you are a Mitth, no longer a (L/N).”

“I feel comfortable with the midwife I have selected-”

The queen’s voice drained as Clvtorig went into the kitchen, signaling to the handmaiden Shínrin and Goi to follow suit. The  handmaidens both took their pitchers with them of course, careful as to not spill the liquid which was inside. No one at the table noticed, for they now bickered about the leniency of acceptance at the Royal Imperial Academy, something (Y/N) sat out of.

The kitchen bustled as always. This time however, stormtroopers stood inside and watched to make sure no food was poisoned (though it seemed as if they had become drowsy and dozed off). Clvtorig led the woman to the back, just in case anyone saw them speaking. 

“Here” he said as he revealed a sachet of pills which hid in his breastplate. “Dissolve these into your drinks. It will hopefully end this comedy.”

“What will it do?” Goi intrigued, sniffing the liquid. 

“Just make them drowsy, like them.” 

The group looked at the sleeping stormtroopers and laughed. They laid lamely, Helmets nearly off and blasters just laying carelessly on the floor.

“Will it work on the consort?”

“No . No. No. Don’t use any on Thrawn or her majesty. I need her to view the chip before they have their meeting.”

“So why not use it on Thrawn?”

“I don’t think it will work on his anatomy, I admit. I only have a little so use it on the ones whom I have briefed you on.”

“As you wish, Your Excellency.”

They each offered a respectful bow before stepping back into the room, holding the tainted pitcher. With a silent prayer, the count wished the girls would remember not to pour into the Queen’s cup—the mark on the chalice needed to be witnessed by her sorrowful gaze. Her eyes, witnesses to endless suffering, spoke volumes of pain. Adjusting his helmet to avoid obstructing his view, he carefully secured it back in place. After methodically counting to twenty twenty times, he returned to the room, taking his position to the left of the door.

It didn’t take long before the Tarkins and the Governor began to feel drowsy, cutting their answers and arguments shorter and shorter by the second . 

(Y/N) chuckled to herself before taking a sip of water. 

“Well , that must have been a long ride.”

“Perhaps.” Thrawn responded to his wife, cutting his answer short. In reality, they had argued the whole ride, not realizing they reached the outerim until they landed. 

“It seems we have all finished.” Thrawn stod, ending the dinner with his words. “My wife and I shall retire. I suggest you all do the same . We have an impactful day tomorrow.”

He presented his hand to (Y/N), who took his hand and elevated herself with such grace.

“Ladies,” the Queen called to her handmaidens. “Please guide our guests to their rooms.” 

It wasn’t until (Y/N) soaked in her tub did she beckon her husband, questioning him as to why the Lady Tarkin traveled with him. Thrawn sat in clothes suitable for sleep at the window, reading a novel which had appeared when he had searched the palace library . 

“Lady Tarkin came as a courtesy. I was not opposed to the idea , it was actually proposed to me-”

“She came uninvited to my house.” (Y/N) pouted.

“Did no one inform you?”

She looked around, only moving her eyes before uttering a suspicious “no”.

“She rarely even invites me to her parties on Coruscant.”

“That hasn't stopped you from attending when you seem fit.”

Suddenly she let out a laugh before arising from her tub. It just so happened that the Grand Admiral had turned around, fixing on the nakedness of her slightly swollen womb. It was his seed inside of her, growing in her womb. The inevitable human and chiss child intrigued him. Secretly , he wondered if the child would look  more like  him or more like his wife. But the Grand Admiral did not have time to start a family, marrying and having a child was his duty, not a want.

In reality, this was all proving to be a liability . But he knew the emperor’s game.

“Please Thrawn, that was only two times. Two times I regret.”

She stepped into her house shoes and then into her night dress and walked from the bathroom and crawled into bed.

“What are we naming it?” she asked when he entered. Thrawn paused before allowing her to speak again. “Will it be given a chiss name or a human name? Will it be raised on Batonn or your apartment on coruscant? Is this our last child?”

“My wife, you ask questions in which I do not know the answer to.”

“Well… these are questions one usually asks the father of their child.”

“If they are to succeed in the imperial academy-”

“The Imperial academy!” The expecting mother jolted from the bed and looked into the gleaming red eyes of her loathsome husband. It came as a shock to her really , and she couldn’t help but wonder if her brother had anything to do with this arrangement. “No, my child… our child… he shall be the next king so that I may die happily knowing the line of Batonn is secured.”

“You don’t seem to realize your current reality.” He was calm when he spoke, something that angered (Y/N) to no end. “ Your opinion on my offspring’s future will not be taken into consideration, your royal highness. You are a servant of the empire and it is time you accept your position , there are rumors… the senate wants to get rid of your monarchy all together.”

“Making me a senator would only do such a thing.” For it was true. She would be occupied with matters  in the senate, no longer able to sustain the cultural relationship she had with her people. Thrawn was smart, but she was smarter. Or so she thought.

“Your highness,” he stood tall and it almost intimidated her for the room was dark and his eyes were bright. “I advise you to keep your head down. You are growing unpopular in the senate ”

She knew what he meant.

She knew he knew.

They looked at each other  and suddenly , (Y/N) arose from her bed as the room began to shrink and dissipate as she feared was the inevitable fate of Batonn. 

 "I will not let the Empire erase our heritage, Thrawn, for it seems as if that has already been done.” Although he was on the other side of the bed, she felt as if he were close, strangling her with his sanguinary hands.“Our child will know Batonn, its people, and its history. You may be part of the Empire, but I refuse to let them strip my family of who they are."

He seemed to contemplate what she said, turning to her with the stone-cold posture that he always bore. 

“Throughout history in every culture on every planet,” he began walking towards the door, “Marriages have been about compromise . This one won’t. It is time you learn to subserve to the empire. ”

The room seemed to enclose and he walked closer to her , standing right infront of her nearly trembling body, something he noticed. 

“I was going to leave but then I thought you would prefer me here, with you.”

She stepped back and looked him up and down in the dark with a scorn upon her lips.

“I am also curious as to your… progress.”

“My progress?”

“Our child. I have done research on hybrid children and your growth is meant to be stalled due to my seed…”

“Yes , Thrawn I know.” She unbuttoned her nightdress and let it drift to the floor. The sheer white of the gown had almost made her seem as a ghost , but now she seemed human. It would be a lie to say that the changes she was experiencing made her feel uncomfortable and trapped . Often she would compare herself to animals, saying that she was made and the empire was the sire . Her handmaidens would reassure her that she had control of her life , but she had her doubts. 

The queen was up longer than what was usually expected, but she got up quickly in the morning so it was alright. It came to her surprise , however, that her husband had been up before her and gone from their shared bed. She wished to share breakfast with him, but she figured that she also needed some alone time away from imperials to calm her headache.

So she sat on her balcony and ate the eggs and drank the milk that had been prepared for her. Only one handmaiden accompanied her , sitting silently across from the queen as she enjoyed her lesser meal. The rest of the girls had been attending to other matters, ones deemed more important than accompanying the Queen to breakfast . 

“Lady Mitth!” an annoying chatter rang. “Lady Mitth!”

The Queen closed her eyes and awaited the Tarkin to disturb the evergoing peace that was the balcony. It was if she were running from something, the way her hag body walked almost seemed muddled.  Simultaneously, as woman yelled, the queen stained her dress with the dark tea.

The Queen arouse anyway and so did her handmaiden who bowed and swiftly picked up her plate and walked from the cobble. “Lady Tarkin, what a pleasant surprise.”

“How rude of you to not invite your guests to breakfast. I was pathetically eating all alone.”

“Well my Lady I apologize but I was under the impression that you had left with your husband and the Grand Admiral.”

“Wilhuff’s business is none of my own.”

(Y/N) smiled as she placed her chalice onto the plate, signaling that she had finished her meal. Amongst the hitting sun and the smell of freshly planted flowers, (Y/N) suddenly felt the urge to leave the outdoor setting once she saw that dreadful woman. 

“Oh how right you are.” She then gestured to the seat next to her, now clean “Would you join me then? I am done but I could pour myself some tea.” 

“Very well.” she sat, making (Y/N) feel a sudden urge to throw herself from the balcony.“Are you excited?”

“For?”

“For the baby of course.”

“As any woman would be given the circumstances.”

“We all hope it looks like you.”

It wasn’t a question , but a statement which forced the queen to slam her tea cup. Her eyes bolted to the woman, who seemed unaware of the confusion she had just caused. No, it wasn’t confusion but rather disgust .

“Excuse me?”

“Well I must admit that it is gossip amongst the wives of officers, something you are too good for.”

The flags flapped in the wind, creating a mystical song which drowned the sneer in 

Thalassa’s voice. It was simply the word ‘gossip’ which angered her, something she knew they enjoyed making her the subject of. It was also prejudiced. She must admit that when she first laid eyes on her arranged husband, she was scared. Not only considering his invasion of her planet, but because of the odd colour of his eyes and the cold colour of his skin.  

“Thalassa,” She started with an artificial smile on her face “My child will be born with skin of blue and eyes of ruby. Human blood will only seep into the veins of my grandchild who will have my skin , my hair and the legacy of his grandfather.”

It then hit Thalassa who despised the reality that Thrawn, one of the empire’s most successful officers was nonhuman and that his legacy would unfortunately live on through the womb of the Batonnese queen. She simply smiled as she had been taught to do and laid her fork to rest. The breakfast was cut short to say the least. It did not sadden (Y/N) who rushed into her room to change her dress. She sat at her vanity with her handmaiden following behind, undressing her from the buttons behind. Uiona took the dress and walked from the room with the dirty dress, leaving the Queen in her solitude. 

It was then when (Y/N)’s bare foot brushed against a flat, elevated surface did her concentration avert from the mirror. 

She raised a brow and picked the object from its home beneath her vanity. Her fingers gently grazed the hardened box, something she did not remember owning but then again, she had been so busy she forgot her brother’s name for a while. She opened the box and there was a chip, a chip most likely containing a recording. It was then she remembered who had gifted her this box and how sudden it had been. 

“Droid!”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The buzzer went off and (Y/N) stod quickly from her seat , knocking the binoculars that had sat upon her lap. Her husband picked them from the floor, the cheers from the people below them distracted him from the crack in the lens. It was horse racing , and Thrawn had decided to accompany his wife last minute. Just as she was leaving, he was returning . Shínrin was meant to accompany her but her husband dismissed her, wanting to observe his wife on her many outings from the palace.  And because of that, she had to cancel her true plan to visit the rebel leader in the country. 

She sat back down now that the horses were out of sight. She did not worry for listening to the announcer was enough to send her on edge. 

“Your Majesty?” A droid came with drinks on a tray, her favorite- quanya. 

“My wife is fine, thank you.” He took a glass, leaving her thirsty. “Something without alcohol will do.”

(Y/N) took a sip of her drink, trying to hide her longing for the days without child. She glanced at her husband, who was engrossed in the ongoing race. Seizing the opportunity, she decided to probe into his unexpected appearance.

Carefully as to not offend , she chose her words carefully , "Thrawn, I didn't expect you to join me today,"

He shifted his attention to her , "I thought it would be interesting to witness your pursuits outside your royal duties, my dear. Besides, I find the strategies employed in these races quite fascinating."

She nodded and then groaned when the horse she decided not to bet on crossed the finish line, “Well they still have six more laps to go.” She then beckoned her hand for the same waiter. “I’m hungry, get me my usual … make it two?” 

“Fromirian roast queg.”

“You know me so well,” she laughed and held up her broken bonchliers. “Crap…”

Evening dawned when the race was over. They walked in the empty viewing lounge, near the mirrors as to allow the oranges and yellows of the setting sun to hit their faces. She held onto the white of his uniform, using her other hand to sway with the skirt of her dress. It was then when his footsteps halted, nearly casting her forward.  She wanted to say something, but she enjoyed the silence too much.

 

"I stress of you," Thrawn began to vocalize, his commanding tone resonating through the air as he turned to face his wife. The sheer sternness of his demeanor made (Y/N) acutely aware of the power he wielded, yet there was an underlying intensity that stirred something deep within her. Despite the stern facade, she couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull towards him, finding comfort in the subtle warmth beneath his unyielding exterior.

“I am fine, you don’t need to stress. I live in a castle filled with people and droids waiting on me hand and foot.”

“Not of that , my wife, but of your reputation and your planet's reputation. Hopefully your introduction as the mother of my child will change that tarnished reputation that you hold.”Thrawn asserted, his words carrying the weight of both authority and a hidden tenderness.

“Thrawn, I must admit that I worry for my people… There are rumors that the empire plans on enslaving my people.” she confessed, searching for reassurance in his unwavering gaze. The silence that followed felt ominous, casting an eerie spell over the conversation.

She was then drawn back to that morning. The morning where she inserted the chip into a droid and saw a recording of an imperial explaining his plans on enslaving Batonn.

Ladies and gentlemen of the Empire, 

Today, I stand before you as a representative of our glorious Empire, entrusted with a crucial responsibility that will shape the destiny of this esteemed planet. Batonn, a jewel in the outer rim, possesses invaluable resources that have the potential to fuel the progress and prosperity of the entire Empire.

As we gaze upon the vast, untapped mines beneath our feet, it is imperative that we recognize the untold wealth hidden within the depths of Batonn. The minerals and ores waiting to be extracted are not just a resource for this planet but a source of strength for the Empire as a whole.

In the spirit of unity and progress, the Galactic Empire proposes a bold initiative: the mobilization of the people of Batonn to contribute to the flourishing industry that lies beneath our very soil. By harnessing the collective strength of its citizens, we will unlock the unparalleled potential of these mines.

Through the unwavering commitment of every citizen, we shall ensure that the riches of Batonn benefit the entirety of the Empire. Our vision is one of shared success and collective achievement. This initiative will not only secure the economic future of Batonn but also fortify our position within the Galactic Empire.

I understand that change can be met with hesitation, but let it be known that this proposal is not an imposition but an opportunity for each of you to contribute to a greater cause. Together, we shall forge a legacy that will be remembered throughout the galaxy.

May the strength of Batonn be harnessed for the greater glory of the Galactic Empire. Join us on this path of progress, and together, we shall shape a future that transcends the boundaries of our wildest dreams.

Long live the Galactic Empire!

"Please tell me it’s not true," she implored, her voice almost a plea as her face turned red.

“For an empire to prosper, some must suffer.” Thrawn declared, his stern expression unwavering.

“No!”  (Y/N) protested, a surge of emotion breaking through.

“It is so.”

“But we are human; the empire does not enslave those-”

“Oh but they do, how ignorant you have been in that stone palace you reside in.” Thrawn revealed, the sternness in his voice cutting through the air.

“I will not allow this. You will not allow this!” And suddenly he saw that spark, the spark in which he had been warned about.

“And what will you do, my gentle queen.” Thrawn challenged.

“I will not go to coursant. I will stay here,” she vowed.

“Do not make this difficult, it is best for us,” Thrawn urged, his stern facade momentarily softening as he leaned in. He pressed a lingering and passionate kiss to her lips, a silent promise.

They then found each other entangled in eachothers arms on Thrawn’s bed situated on his personal ship. She awoke in utter silence, the sterile witness of the room nearly caused her naked body to quiver in the unknowing cold.

“Husband,” she shook him roughly, nearly crying. 

He wore grey, meaning he had changed after the act, something she noticed as he slowly awoke from his position on the bed. 

“Thrawn, where have you taken me?”

 

“We are going to Coruscant , (Y/N), a decision I have made for the both of us.”

“Thrawn… you have betrayed me,” there was hurt in her voice and she nearly wanted to cry. “Where are my handmaidens? Where is the Count? Where is Jankie?”

“The count is here,” Thrawn sighed, “He would not let you go without his presence.”

Thrawn packed his case and had ordered his wife’s handmaiden to do the same in respects to his wife. He stood in her room, ready with a case to walk to his shuttle where she had already found sleeps embrace. The night was dark and he had ordered the serving women to be quiet so as to not awake anyone else who resided in the palace. 

The count stormed in the room, breaking the silence which no longer lingered in the room. He enlighted his lightsaber , the green engulfing the ever growing darkness. 

“Where is my Queen?” He shouted. The handmaidens quaked , squirming to the left corner of the room. It was the first time many of them had seen a jedi, the scene frightened them.

“ Count Clvtorig, what a surprise. I’m sure you’re aware that threatening a senior officer of the navy is illegal…”

“Bring him to me.”

“I’m afraid that cannot be done, my dear. Your dear friend Count Clvtorgi is being confined to the ship’s prison.”

“Why?” she stood from the bed, holding the sheets to cover her bareness.

“He is a jedi,” he then raised his eyebrow “surely you had known.”

“No. None of this is true.”

“(Y/N), you must understand that the Empire values the symbolism of our presence on Coruscant.” 

“Symbolism? It is better that I stay on Batonn.”

“My love, I brought you to Coruscant for the well-being of our child. The medical facilities here are unparalleled, ensuring a safe and secure environment for the hybrid birth. The matters on Batonn will be addressed in due course. But being there allows us to influence decisions that impact our entire sector.” 

It was then when a comm rang, disturbing the argument that was bound to occur. He strolled to his desk and pressed down the answer button .

“Agent Kallus to Grand Admiral Thrawn,” The man’s hologram appeared.

“Speaking.”

“The inquisitor has just landed. Should we guide him to the Count’s cell?”

The Queen’s jaw twitched. She held her mouth to prevent the violent tremor from becoming noticeable though that was too late. 

“I will be there, agent, tell the inquisitor to stand by,” He then turned to his wife who simply yearned to cry into her pillow. “This discussion will have to wait.” In a haste, he dressed and left the room, dressing perfectly in the minimal amount of time he was given. 

It was sometime before she was able to collect herself, but the time came and she dressed in a gown of blue and made her way down the hall looking for the man who was about to kill one of her only friends. He had already taken her family, he was not going to take away Clvtorgi.

Or her baby.

This she would not allow.

“You,” she pointed at the stormtrooper who roamed aimlessly “where is my husband?”

With no answer, (Y/N) stormed past him and made her way to the deck where only a few officers captioned the ship. They did not turn when she approached , seemingly ignoring her frightened presence . “Gentlemen,” she called, unknowingly triggering the senses of a certain guard who had accidentally let her sleep. 

“My lady,” One of them stood while the other one continued manning the ship. “I thought you were confined to the Grand Admiral's quarters.”

“Confined?” she simply gasped and clenched her heart “I am your commanding officer’s wife, not a prisoner.” 

A noghri stood silently behind her, his weapon drawn and ready to stun. 

“Well,” the imp smiled , showing his teeth “It seems as if you must take up your complaints with someone else.” 

Slowly, she turned her head , seeing the electrifying weapon which had surely been charged before she boarded.  

It was then when she was stunned and fell to the floor did the Jedi trained Clvtorgi scream and struggle from his confinement. The Inquisitor paused his mind tricks and turned to Agent Kallus who stood to his left. 

“All he can think about is that girl,” the inquisitor sneered and ignited his saber.

“Girl?”

“The Grand Admiral's wife. He seems to have a very deep connection to her, and the child she carries.”

“So what should we do in the meantime.”

“Oh I’m not finished yet.”

In her dreams she heard his haunting screams and desire to remain as stoic as a jedi. It wouldn’t be long before they killed him , making him a jedi only spoken about in books and fairytales. In her dreams, she wandered through the desolate corridors of her home on Batonn, its grandeur reduced to shadows and echoes of its former glory. The once vibrant colors were now muted, and the air hung heavy with a sense of foreboding. The walls seemed to close in on her, and every step echoed with a haunting emptiness. It was then she reached the end of the hall , where Clvtorgi stod in his regal disguise. 

The quietness of the door opening disturbed her dream, and the count’s face slowly disappeared, replaced by a face of blue.

“I heard you had a confrontation with my guard,” Thrawn stated, entering the room.

“It was nothing,” she whispered.

He said nothing and entered further into the room, asserting himself in her sleeping space. 

“We will reach Coruscant tomorrow,” he began shedding his uniform as a snake would its skin. “Lady Tarkin is throwing you a blessingway. I won’t be able to attend but I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

Voices became white noise and the ship's hum became roaring. He did not stop talking though, even when he noticed that she was disengaged, causing her to gasp from his shockingly boring voice. 

“Hmm are you alright?” He turned to her before sitting at his desk.

“Yes, It just kicked…”

“He”

“What?”

“Male. The child is male.”

“How do you know?”

“Count Clvtorgi,” She sat up in bed, using the sheet to cover her breasts “He knew through the force, something he is strong in. Another reason as to why you should stay on Coruscant.”

“No, the empire agreed to keep the monarchy.”

“Your duties changed once you began carrying our heir.”

And that was the end of it.  She felt the weight of her responsibilities shift, becoming mature and womanly. No longer was she Queen of Batonn, but a wife to her husband-Thrawn. 

The changes were palpable – at social gatherings, during shopping excursions, and even in the formalities of Imperial addresses . It was even evident at parties, when she went shopping and when she received mail or was addressed by the imperials.

“Welcome Lady Mitth, would you like to add this to your account?”

“Lady Mitth has arrived.”

And Lady Mitth did arrive one afternoon to the endless city of Coruscant. The twi'lek porter held her few bags which would maybe suffice for a month or two. Thrawn promised her that he would send for her other belongings and perhaps a handmaiden or two but for the time being:

“Go shopping and take the droid with you,” he said to her when he caught her exploring his obnoxiously large coruscanti  apartment. “Charge everything to my account. No one should question you, everyone knows who I am and you are.”

In a way it was both a warning and a blessing.

“I will join you for dinner. I have business to attend to in the meantime, but send for me when you’re ready.” 

And he said it as cold as always, ignoring her presence as he left the room. But she gave him scant credit, for he had sensed her lingering blues and concluded that the combination of the unexpected move and the pregnancy had put a strain on his wife. He sometimes caught her staring aimlessly out the window, cradling her growing bump and counting the speeders in the skyline. It was time for some excitement in her life.

So that was when she decided to overcharge his account, buying everything and anything in sight. There was one thing about Batonnese women, and that was their expensive taste and style, something Thrawn had observed through art commissioned by his young bride. He did expect her to spend all his credits and pick the most expensive dress and buy it in every colour offered just to spite him , so that was what she did. 

Those dresses of every colour were thrown neatly in the trunk of the speeder , left to a droid to attend to. She didn’t mind if  they got wrinkled , for she was probably never going to wear them. Maternity wear was just dreadful and plain.

“Where are my reservations at?” She questioned the driver as they traveled through the endless sea of lights “I would like to know where I'm going.”

“The Pinnacle, My lady.”

“The Pinnacle ?” she raised her brow. In reality, she would expect no less from her husband and his choosing but she secretly wished for something more private and calm. The Pinnacle attracted many of the empire’s most elite members which meant that Lady Mitth would most likely see someone she despised.

The vehicle stopped and already she noticed enemies she had made on her first visit to her husband's adopted home. In some strange sick way , she felt a sense of jealousy towards those women. Their slender, youthful forms with the power to captivate any man they wished for seemed like an elusive fantasy, something she could only envision in her dreams.

Graciously and with the dignity belonging to a queen , (Y/N) exited the vehicle and held her head higher than the 500 Republica. She hoped the night would masquerade her face, hiding her slight plumpness from the youthful women her age.

“Lady Mitth !” one of the girls shouted from the sea of elites “Look Vegga, it’s (Y/N). Remember her, the Batonnese girl.”

“Oh brother,” she signed under her breath.

Already, (Y/N) noticed the judgmental smile that plagued the girls whom she vaguely remembered as Gendora and Vegga , daughters of Commander Drexton. 

"Well, where's the Grand Admiral? Not joining us today?" 

“He’s on his way,” she tried moving past them , but was stopped as they moved closer. 

"Well I just wanted to extend my congratulations. Word is you're expecting."

 "Thank you. Yes, we're thrilled."

 "Thrilled, I'm sure. It must be such an... interesting time for you." She looked down at her overly flowing dress, seeing the outlined bump.

"It is. Your kind wishes are appreciated."

She pushed past them, trying to hide her tears. She couldn't shake the feeling that beneath the surface, the congratulations were marred by a prejudiced undertone, driven by the fact that her baby was a mix of Chiss and human. 

Human, something she felt too much.

She approached the host , but she need not to introduce herself. 

“Lady Mitth, we’ve been expecting you! We have the rooftop table . Where’s your husband?”

Everywhere she stepped, everywhere she was noticed, she was asked about Thrawn. He was a part of her, an invisible parasite glued to the center of her face. It was as if she wore a badge that read “Thrawn’s Wife. Obedient : silent, and imperial.”

“Just send him to my table when he arrives,” a small giggle flew from her mouth as she followed the host to her designated table, picked by her husband. 

The scenery almost overwhelmed her but sulking for long never looked good on women in society. Especially one who wore the badge of a grand admiral's wife. If only she were still the unmarried virgin she once was only a few years ago, with not a worry in the world. She would still retain her thin figure, her unbraided hair , and her finger which was free of a heavy ring. 

Still, she thought of Count Clvtorig and his alleged jedi title and the many times she had been so stupid as to not notice. It was him who had saved her when she had visited the witch, and it was him who had been there when the imperials threatened and raided the farms in the north. She was so deep in thought that she failed to notice her husband who had just walked into the restaurant. All eyes seemed to be on him, but hers. 

“Lady Mitth,” he stood with his hands resting on the hem of the chair , looking down at his wife. 

“Thrawn!” she nearly dropped her glass on the table as she stood abruptly, allowing her husband to kiss her. He took the seat opposite of her, tucking her into the table before he did.  

“I trust you found the dressmakers on Coruscant to be satisfactory.”

“Well the women here do know how to dress.”

Thrawn inclined his head, acknowledging her words. "Efficiency is key in all aspects of life, including choosing the clothing we wear." Scanning the menu he then placed it neatly on the table.

A waiter approached to take their orders, and Thrawn opted for a selection of dishes that reflected his refined taste. As the waiter turned his attention to (Y/N), she hesitated for a moment before placing her order.

"Is there anything specific you desire?" Thrawn inquired, his eyes fixated on her.

"I'll trust your choices," she responded, attempting to convey a sense of ease despite the nervousness she felt.

He of course asked her how her day went, if she had felt ill or in any sort of way. She then asked how he had been and he responded with information pertaining to the imperial navy , diplomatic matters, and the delicate balance of power within the Empire. She  listened attentively, as a good wife should, providing occasional nods and thoughtful responses.

Thrawn then shifted the conversation to a more personal realm. "Your adjustment to Coruscant has been swift," he observed.

"It's a different world," she admitted, offering a small smile. "But I'm doing my best."

"The Empire values adaptability," Thrawn stated. "It is a quality that will serve you well."

The topic shifted to Lady Tarkin's upcoming blessingway, and Thrawn emphasized the importance of maintaining a positive image within the Imperial circles.

"You are a representation of not only yourself but also the stability of our union," Thrawn explained, his gaze piercing. "Appearances matter."

(Y/N) nodded, understanding the unspoken expectations that accompanied her role. The conversation drifted towards the impending arrival of their child, and Thrawn's demeanor softened, revealing a rare glimpse of paternal anticipation.

"Your connection with Clvtorgi troubles me," Thrawn admitted, his voice measured. "The Inquisitor sensed it, and I cannot ignore the implications."

"He's an old friend," (Y/N) explained, her tone sincere. "He saved me in times of need, and I cannot turn my back on him." 

She then began to stress , her brows furring and her teeth clenched .

“Please tell me what his fate will be.”

Thrawn regarded her with a thoughtful expression, his eyes probing. "I do not wish to stifle your connections, but caution is imperative. The Empire's perception of loyalty is unforgiving."

"Your adaptability will continue to be tested," Thrawn remarked while standing and extending his arm, offering her to dance."But I have faith in your ability to navigate these intricacies."

He guided her to the dance floor as the soothing notes of a waltz filled the air, evoking the painful memory of her coronation. Facing him, she felt his hand on her waist, poised to lead.When she was young and the palace still flourished with the (L/N) family , (Y/N) would always lead when dancing with her brothers or suitors. However, the first dance with Thrawn marked a shift, as he insisted on leading and discouraged any attempts to adjust her hands to take charge.When she was young and the palace still flourished with the (L/N) family , (Y/N) would always lead when dancing with her brothers or suitors.

The realization made her stop him by standing still and not moving her body in a way which complimented the music. 

“(Y/N),” he stopped along with her and moved his hand to her cheek “Is everything alright?”

She wanted to tell him that she grew weary from her fake smiles and her perfect posture and just wanted to go back to the apartment. It was evident in her eyes, she knew that he could sense it as well as others.

“I’m very tired , I…I- I’d rather just go home.”

He led her off the dancefloor , bringing her down the stairs and escorting her into his personal hovercraft. They sat in silence, his hand rested on her leg while she stared at the busy roads. It was night and she could not get over the lights flashing into her face from others whom she felt watched her.

He opened the door letting her into the dark and silent apartment.

“I’ll be in my office if you need me but of course, call the droid first,” he left her in the dark and went straight to his office, it seemed the working day hadn’t ended. 

But even as tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep knowing her husband was awake and ignoring her in the other room. A tranquil breeze gave her a chill, solidifying her feeling of loneliness. She moved the comforter , slipping from the sheets and moving across the hallway to go knock on his door. 

“Lady…” the silver droid had caught her lurking in the hall, but was ordered to be quiet by (Y/N) placing a finger on her lips. After a knock, (Y/N) entered Thrawn's office, finding him buried in a stack of datapads and holographic displays. The air carried a tense atmosphere, and she could sense the weight of his responsibilities pressing upon him. He almost did not even notice her, but then he looked up and saw his wife standing before him.

"Thrawn," she spoke gently, approaching his desk. "You seem stressed. Is there anything I can do?"

"There are pressing matters that I must attend to," he admitted with a sigh.

(Y/N) then leaned against the edge of his desk, twisting her hair and looking down at her husband. "You've been working tirelessly. “You deserve a break."

 "The demands of the Empire are unrelenting."

She reached out, placing a hand on his, offering a comforting touch. "You don't have to carry it all on your own, Thrawn. Have one of your assistants help."

Thrawn's gaze softened at her words, a rare vulnerability surfacing. "The burden of command is mine to bear."

 "And I'm here to share it with you, as your wife."

A growing tension entered the room , not the same tension that had appeared over dinner, but a romantic and wanting tension. A tension only felt by lovers and those of the sort.  Thrawn leaned forward, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, solidifying their joint needs for desire and companionship . 

He pulled her closer to his body, kissing her once more in a fit of passion and desire. He held the back of her head, moving his hand slowly to the buttons of her nightdress. She did the same, removing his shirt and throwing it to some unknown corner of the room. With haste, he picked her up and laid her gently on a sofa with the last chaste kiss of the evening.

Already, he had taken off her gown and undergarments and she- his clothing . He laid on top of her and looked into her eyes . She was wanting , yearning , needing. He cheeks grew red with desire and her nipples erected at the sound of his groan . He moved his hand down his body, touching himself . 

She instead replaced his hand with hers and began to delicately move her hand in such a way which would elicit some sort of pleasure. She knew how hard he had been working and admitted that she had felt neglected for awhile. But lonely she felt no more. 

Never was the stare of Thrawn so intense. She saw the want in his eyes and laid down on her back , letting go of his shaft and wiping her fingers on her pink rose. She arched her back and moaned when she rubbed herself , pulling him down with her. It became hot in the room, causing the couple to pant and become red with pleasure.

He found her incredibly desirable even with her slightly bulging womb which she found distasteful. He used his hands to trail up her body , reaching her soft and perky breasts . His fingers decided to cup and massage her hardening nipples, causing her to gasp. 

“I’ve missed you,” He moved his lips to her ears, whispering sweet nothings and biting onto the soft and delicate skin “Oh you’re simply a work of art.”

She could barely respond .

It was sensual and wanting, an emotion she was guilty of longing for when he was gone. As he touched her, remembering her pleasure spots from previous nights before, she gripped the back of his neck, making it so he was paralyzed in his movements. Oh but that was what she wanted, so that he would never stop.

A red gush of pleasure dropped over her body when he inserted himself into her soft, delicate hole. “Thrawn…” she panted as her body bounced back and forth, matching his rhythm. He did not hurt her this time, she grew accustomed to his size and the way he manhandled her, making her sensitive to his touch. He remained close to her, his head buried in the crook of her neck. Covertly, she turned her head to her right so that she was facing a shelf . A shelf she had been yelled at once for snooping around in. She saw a new folder, one that was scarlet, matching the colour of Batonn’s flag. 

‘That one,’ she heard the voice of her imprisoned friend, a voice she remembered so clearly ‘You must save our home. For me , it is too late.’

He whispered something to her in his native tongue before releasing himself into her, bringing her back to her senses, causing her to face him. She stopped her moaning and closed her mouth, allowing him to collapse on top of her. Swiftly , he got up and began to dress himself, paying no mind to her fixation on the shelf until it discomfited him.

“I must get to work now,” he helped her up, handing her the discarded dress in the process. 

It was an anticlimactic end, but in the morning she would wait for him to leave before abstracting the folder which sat on the shelf.

It seemed that Batonn had always been awarded the dull end of the empire’s sword.

[littlelewdmable]

Faunus Traits and Mutations

Faunus typically have one primary animal trait. Such as animalistic ears, tails, plumage, wings, etc. While also possessing several secondary animal traits. Such as the ability to make animalistic sounds. Such as meowing, purring, chirping, barking, howling, etc.

Several physical traits can also be enhanced. Though contrary to popular belief, not all faunus have enhanced night vision. Though enhanced senses are common. Some types of faunus have reduced senses compared to humans. Such as mole faunus.

Though it should be noted that faunus senses are never quite as strong, or weak, as their animal counterparts.

Faunus that have no primary traits, which will be detailed later, often have reduced abilities compared to faunus of the same type. Though they sometimes do process secondary traits.

------

When two faunus of the same type have children their child will be of the same type. With very little chance of mutation. In cases where the parents share primary traits the child will share that trait almost always.

The children of two faunus of the same type, but that have different primary traits will often have one of their parent's traits. Blake being an example of this. Having her mother's ears instead of her father's claws.

There is a small chance that they will have a primary trait different than their parents. Around 5%

Children of faunus of different types are more likely to have children with some sort of mutation. These mutations usually present in two ways. An extra primary trait, or an altered primary trait.

An example of the first would be Ruby. Who possesses wolf ears and a tail. Despite her mother only having wolf ears.

An example of the latter would be Yang. Who inherited her mother's tailfeathers, but due to her father being a dragon faunus and having hard scales over parts of his body, her feathers are much more durable than her mother's. And are a shiny gold color.

Faunus with similar traits, but of different types, will usually have children with the same trait. Such as a feline and canine faunus with tails have a child with a tail.

A child of a faunus and a human are the most likely to have mutations. If the child has a primary animal trait it will be that of the faunus parent's type. Though not necessarily the same as the faunus parent.

Children with a human and faunus parent who do not present with a primary animal trait are considered to be traitress faunus. All people that have a faunus ancestor with a primary trait within two generations are legally considered Faunus in Vale, Atlas, and Mistral.

[queenmarytudor]

I find the abuse Mary suffered at Hatfield is always downplayed as her being a bratty teenager acting out, so here’s a reminder of what she actually endured -

servants dismissed

one of Elizabeth’s servants dismissed because he helped her

physically forced to curtsey 

physically manhandled into a litter

ordered not to leave her rooms (the worst in Hatfield) when her father visited

locked in them with the windows shut when ambassadors visited 

refused the diet she had for health reasons in her own household 

when she became ill because of this, was told her father had no worse enemy in the world then her

told everyone desires her death so the world will be at peace 

told to take warning of the fates of executed monks

not allowed to see her mother while she lay dying 

called a traitress

called a monster of nature

told if she was someone else’s daughter she would be beat to death and have her head smashed until it was like a boiled apple

had her friends and supporters imprisoned and interrogated 

had legal papers drawn up to put her on trial

[secretsdeblackthornhall]

De Emma à Cristina

Chère Cristina !

Désolée de te surprendre : j’avais d’abord écrit « Chère Cristina » avec une virgule, et ça me paraissait un peu banal. Je voulais égayer un peu tout ça. Et je veux avoir de tes nouvelles parce que tu me manques et c’est hyper agaçant que tu n’aies pas pu être à New York.

Pourquoi a-t-il fallu que Nene choisisse ce jour-là pour vous rendre visite ? Est-ce que c’est parce sa perspicace intuition féérique l’a incitée à nous séparer ? Enfin, non, probablement pas, elle semble être une bonne personne. Mais quand même ! Viens la semaine d’après, Nene ! Je suis aussi déçue d’apprendre qu’elle n’a rien révélé sur ce qui pouvait bien se passer à la Cour des Lumières. Je suppose que si elle avait dévoilé les secrets de la Cour à Kieran (qui est, techniquement, le Roi de la Cour des Ténèbres), la Reine de la Cour des Lumières aurait vu ça d’un « mauvais » œil et considéré Nene comme une « traitresse », mais ce n’est rien comparé à notre envie de savoir ce qu’il se passe.

Enfin bref ! Nous sommes rentrés de New York, où le temps était bien plus moche qu’à Londres, mais peu importe. Nous avions envoyé à Alec la photo des bougeoirs de l’église. Il les a montrés à sa mère, qui les a reconnus. Elle a expliqué que Robert les avait apportés, avec un tas d’autres bricoles qu’il avait héritées de sa famille, quand ils avaient quitté Idris pour s’installer à New York. Elle ne savait pas ce qu’ils étaient devenus, mais ils devaient certainement être quelque part dans l’Institut de New York. Eh bien, avec notre Détecteur de Fantôme en poche, nous avons dit au revoir à Rupert et sommes partis. (Julian se demande si nous manquons à Rupert quand nous sommes absents, mais il est difficile de savoir si les fantômes ressentent le passage du temps. Dans tous les cas, nous n’avons pas trouvé de visage triste dessiné dans la poussière ou quelque chose comme ça quand nous sommes rentrés.)

Nous avons vu Jace et Clary, évidemment, et Alec est venu apporter son aide. Je pense que ça avait piqué sa curiosité puisque ça concerne sa famille. (Nous espérions voir Simon et Isabelle, mais ils étaient partis recruter de nouveaux élèves pour l’Académie des Chasseurs d’Ombres. Et Magnus était resté à l’appartement avec les enfants. Il nous a envoyé une vidéo dans laquelle il demandait à Max et Rafe « Est-ce qu’on va aider nos amis ? » et où ils criaient tous les deux « Non ! ». C’était mignon. Enfin, Max et Rafe étaient mignons. Magnus en profitait peut-être un peu.)

Trouver les bougeoirs, c’était assez simple, en fait. Rien de réjouissant. Ils étaient cachées à la vue de tous, dans la nef de l’église, parmi les autres bougeoirs et chandeliers et tout ce qui va avec les bougies. Et le Détecteur de Fantômes nous a directement menés à elles. Alors peut-être n’ont-ils pas été déplacés pendant le Blitz mais les Lightwood les ont récupérés ? Ou peut-être ont-ils bien été déplacés puis ramenés et après ça, les parents de Robert les ont sortis de l’église ? Nous ne saurons probablement jamais la vérité, mais ce n’est pas grave puisque, peu importe, nous les avons trouvés, mystère résolu.

Pour fêter ça, nous avons commandé une pizza et l’avons mangée à la lumière des bougies. La pizza new-yorkaise ! C’est la meilleure ! ça me fait un peu mal de l’avouer, puisque je suis une fille de LA, mais telle est la vérité. Ça m’avait tellement manqué. Les pizzas de Londres sont… eh bien, il vaut mieux ne rien dire.

Pendant le repas, Jace a demandé à Alec s’il avait des nouvelles d’Idris, et Julian et moi avons échangé un regard confus parce qu’il n’y a jamais de nouvelles d’Idriss : la Cohorte s’y est enfermée et refuse d’en sortir ou de laisser quiconque y entrer, tu sais comment s’est.

Alec nous a appris qu’ils travaillaient sur une nouvelle variation des messages de feu qui pourrait passer au travers des sortilèges de protection autour d’Idriss. Principalement grâce à la capacité de Clary à inventer de nouvelles runes. Ils ont en envoyés un certain nombre, en essayant différentes méthodes, mais n’avaient reçu aucune réponse jusqu’à récemment. Ils ont eu un message d’une des personnes que je déteste le plus, Manuel.

Donc apparemment, Alec et Manuel s’échangent des messages. Zara refuse de répondre et Manuel a sous-entendu qu’elle n’appréciait pas que lui et Alec communiquent. Alec suppose qu’il ment et que Zara n’en sait peut-être rien. Mais il pense aussi que Manuel en a marre d’être coincé là-bas et pourrait être leur moyen d’entrer, puisque (comme tout le monde le sait) la priorité absolue de Manuel est Manuel, bien avant la supposée mission de la Cohorte. Comme l’a fait remarquer Jace, Zara est convaincue de sa légitimité, mais Manuel est un simple opportuniste.

Tout ça était super intéressant, évidemment, mais Julian et moi commencions à culpabiliser en étant confrontés au fait qu’Alec est, tu vois, le Consul. Julian a reconnu qu’il savait qu’Alec était occupé par d’importantes affaires de Consul et que c’était très gentil qu’il soit quand même venu aider à chercher les bougeoirs. Et puis Alec a dit quelque chose de très gentil ! Il a expliqué que leur groupe new-yorkais avait toujours dû agir en secret, qu’il avait toujours vu l’Enclave comme un ennemi. Bon, peut-être pas un ennemi, mais certainement pas un allié. L’Enclave avec laquelle ils avaient grandi a… tu sais… enfermé Jace dans la Cité Silencieuse et refusé de croire au retour de Valentin. Ils n’auraient jamais songé à aller demander de l’aide à ces personnes-là. C’était vraiment important pour Alec en tant que Consul d’être véritablement présent pour les Chasseurs d’Ombres, d’être quelqu’un qu’ils connaissent, avec qui ils peuvent parler de leurs difficultés sans avoir à se cacher. Et je suppose que nous connaissions personnellement Alec avant, et il s’agissait des bougeoirs de sa famille, mais quand même, c’était agréable de voir que nous apporter son aide faisait partie de ses devoirs de Consul à ses yeux, et n’était pas quelque chose qui le détournait de son véritable travail. Il a répondu que c’était ça son véritable travail, et que nous avions intérêt à continuer à leur demander de l’aide à lui et à Magnus.

Au bout d’un moment, Clary a déclaré qu’elle et moi devions discuter entre filles et nous sommes rapidement sorties pour aller prendre un café chez Taki’s. Elle a laissé Julian en compagnie de Jace et Alec. La dernière image que j’ai eue de lui, c’était Jace qui l’emmenait vers l’armurerie pour jeter un œil à une collection d’épées de l’armée espagnole datant du XVIIe siècle qu’il avait récemment découverte dans une cache d’armes dans une église en ville. Julian m’a regardée comme un chiot qu’on emmène chez le vétérinaire pour faire des piqûres, mais je crois qu’il s’est amusé. C’est du moins ce qu’il m’a dit.

Clary et moi nous sommes installées à une table chez Taki’s. Elle me demandait comment j’allais, et je lui répondais, mais elle paraissait distraite. Je me suis rendu compte qu’elle avait peut-être besoin de me parler de comment elle allait. Et c’était effectivement le cas. Elle s’inquiétait parce qu’Alec veut voir le bon côté des gens, et il a beaucoup d’espoir quant aux progrès qu’ils ont fait en communiquant avec Manuel, mais Clary pense que Zara est une psychopathe manipulatrice. Là-dessus, nous sommes d’accord.

- Tu crois que c’est une ruse ? ai-je questionné. Ou un piège ?

Elle a admis qu’elle ne savait pas. Mais elle s’est contestée en avouant qu’elle comprenait l’importance d’ouvrir Idris, qu’elle avait conscience que l’Enclave ne pourrait pas survivre en étant séparée en deux.

J’ai reconnu que ça me paraissait être un lourd poids sur leurs épaules. Elle a en quelque sorte soupiré et m’a annoncé la grande nouvelle, ou plutôt l’absence d’une grande nouvelle : elle et Jace ont décidé de ne pas se marier tant que l’Enclave ne sera pas réunie. Et Simon et Isabelle sont du même avis.

- Ce n’est pas comme si nous avions besoin de nous presser, a-t-elle déclaré en regardant par la fenêtre, l’air triste. Mais nous ne voulons pas d’un mariage où la seule chose que tout le monde a en tête est le fait que Idris est inabordable et que l’Enclave est brisée.

Elle continuait de regarder par la fenêtre, alors je lui ai demandé si elle avait vu quelqu’un dehors. Elle s’est retournée vers moi avec une moue fautive :

- Ah, non. Pendant une seconde, j’ai cru voir Jace mais ce n’était pas lui.

Finalement, nous sommes revenues au sujet de comment je me portais et j’ai pu lui dire ce qui m’inquiétais moi, et dont nous avons déjà un peu parlé toi et moi. A savoir que Julian et moi rénovons ce manoir et que peut-être… nous allons y emménager ? C’est-à-dire déménager à Londres. Et quitter Los Angeles pour de bon. Et je n’ai pas vraiment eu le temps de réfléchir à ce que ça signifiait. Je voyais ça comme une occupation temporaire, rénover la maison puis rentrer chez nous. Et c’est facile de voir les choses comme ça avec tout ce qu’il se passe dans l’Enclave.

Mais aux yeux de Julian, ce sera notre nouvelle maison. Et je ne peux pas lui reprocher de vouloir ça. Enfin, c’est un Blackthorn, et nous parlons de Blackthorn Hall. Mais nous avons grandit à Los Angeles. Je suis une fille de LA, tous mes souvenirs de mes parents sont à Los Angeles. En même temps, nous avons tous les deux tant de mauvais souvenirs de l’Institut de Los Angeles, ce serait agréable de les laisser derrière nous et de recommencer à zéro. Je ne sais pas. Est-ce que ça te parait étrange parfois, de vivre à New York maintenant ? Et aussi au Royaume des Fées ? Est-ce que Mexico te manque ?

C’est peut-être parce qu’Idris est hors de portée que j’ai ces réflexions bizarres. J’ai grandi en sachant que peu importe à quel point les Chasseurs d’Ombres étaient dispersés, nous avions tous un foyer ensemble à Idris. C’était une connexion entre les membres de l’Enclave dans le monde entier. Et si Idris avait réellement disparu pour nous, Cristina ?

Et si le pays avait disparu pour toujours ?

Bisous,

Emma

Texte original de Cassandra Clare ©

Traduction d’Eurydice Bluenight ©

Illustration de Cassandra Jean ©

Le texte original est à lire ici : https://secretsofblackthornhall.tumblr.com/post/685056514324660224/emma-to-cristina

[izzythehutt]

Akigure!

Oh, Akigure....holy weird power dynamics slash magical soulmates from birth, Batman. They were the main thing that I liked about Fruits Basket.

my favorite or a defining moment:

The moment at the end of the manga where she screams at him that he was member of the Zodiac she most feared losing because of his aloofness and his tendency to pull away, and he accuses her of being a "traitress" and admits every effed up thing he did was to break her bonds with the rest of the Zodiac and have her for himself. And then he puts a flower in her hair. It goes from deranged to wholesome, let it never be said romance is dead.

whether they’re wholesome (affectionate), fucked up (affectionate), fucked up (derogatory), or boring

Uhhh Shigure literally slept with her mom to get back at her so I'd say they honestly might be the most effed up pairing I ship.

a song I think captures their essence- Only You by Matthew Perryman Jones

a sister ship- Rhett/Scarlett. It's the same damn pairing, down to the age gap and the colorless, noble other dude that the woman chases after who is a nice guy that wants the best for her but really ends up enabling her delusions.

what kind of AU I’d like to stick them in- Not exactly an AU but I always found the fact that we never got to see the rest of the characters' reaction to them being a couple annoying (only Kureno,

Are they on my top ten pairings:

I regret to inform the world at large that yes, unfortunately, they are.

[raimeiha]

ルシス 聖羅 - Lucis Seira

Environ 824 ans || 4 août Mesure 1 mètre 70

Vampire || O- || 17ème progénitrice (officiellement) Affiliée aux vampires || Faction de Ferid Bathory || Sanguinem (Japon)

Seira est une vampire très calme et compatissante. Elle n'apprécie que peu de ses semblables et ne leur adresse, de ce fait, pas souvent la parole.. Crowley est sans doute celui à qui elle parle le plus. Elle est aussi très mature et réfléchie, ainsi que confiante et fière, comme la plupart des vampires à vrai dire.

La vampire n'aime pas faire souffrir ses victimes et fait donc tout pour les tuer rapidement. Elle n'a pas oublié le fait qu'elle était autrefois humaine et c'est bien pour cette raison qu'elle ne prend pas les humains de haut et qu'elle ne les qualifie pas de « bétail ». En revanche, ses sentiments humains ont fortement diminué.

C'est une belle vampire qui atteint tout juste la barre du mètre soixante-dix. Elle possède de longs cheveux rouge foncé qui ondulent jusqu'en-dessous de ses omoplates. Tout comme les autres vampires, elle a les yeux rouges, des crocs prêts à s'enfoncer dans la chair humaine et des oreilles pointues.

Quand elle était humaine, la couleur de ses yeux ressemblait à s'y méprendre à celle de la mer. Ses cheveux étaient autrefois bruns, elle les a teint car cette couleur ne lui convenait pas... elle était trop générique.

Seira estime avoir eu une vie banale, avant de devenir une vampire. Serveuse dans un bar il y a de cela plusieurs siècles déjà, elle avait l'habitude des clients difficiles, des blagues lourdes et des regards insistants. C'est quand son hameau a été attaqué et qu'elle s'est retrouvée aux portes de la mort que sa vie a pris un nouveau tournant. En effet, alors qu'elle rendait son dernier souffle, un certain vampire aux cheveux bicolore s'est penché sur elle et lui a fait don de la vie éternelle...

Selon les explications de Crowley révélant plutôt être un septième progéniteur car Ferid lui aurait donné le sang d'un second, Seira serait en réalité onzième plutôt que dix-septième.

• Recherches :

- Crowley Eusford → Un allié de choix, son sauveur à l’époque. Il est le seul avec qui la conversation est facile, pour elle. À force de passer du temps ensemble et de se rapprocher, une relation tout à fait différente de l’amitié qu’ils tissent pourrait bien voir le jour.

- Urd Geales → Une rencontre hasardeuse quelques jours après son arrivée au Japon, en dehors des quartiers des vampires situés dans la capitale. Bien que Seira soit considérée comme une traitresse, Urd pourrait en faire fi et se rapprocher d’elle, à l’abri des regards. Et si, un jour, elle était faite prisonnière par d’autres, que ferait-il donc ? Deviendrait-il son bourreau, ou choisirait-il de lui trouver une place à ses côtés pour la sauver d’une inévitable torture ?

[lilias42]

Série de portrait : la génération des grands-parents !

Bon ! ça fait un moment que je travaille sur eux alors, les voici : les principaux personnages de la génération des grands-parents !

Ces deux-là auront une petite scène qui leur sera consacré mais, pour le moment, voici déjà leur visage en gros ! Il s'agit des grands-parents de Sylvain du côté de son père Isidore : Erika Gautier, héritière puis margravine de leur marche, et Halfdan qui est un commerçant et ancien soldat sreng. Personne ne connait le père d'Isidore à part les plus proches amis d'Erika, surtout sous Clovis où elle sait que le tyran aurait tué son fils mais, le secret est resté dans la famille malgré toutes les pressions qu'elle a subi. Sylvain n'a su qui était son grand-père que quand il est devenu adulte de sa mère (car évidemment que Fregn est arrivé à retrouver la vérité et à recoller les morceaux), car Isidore refuse de parler à qui que ce soit de son père et préfère traiter sa mère de p*te et de traitresse à Faerghus, plutôt que d'admettre qu'elle n'a aimé qu'un homme dans sa vie, soit Halfdan, et donc qu'il est à moitié Sreng, même s'il adorait son père quand il était petit. Ici, j'ai tenté de donner la même position qu'académie!Sylvain à Halfdan pour marquer le lien de parenté, ainsi que leurs couleurs mais, en inversé, histoire de marqués qu'ils sont en couple.

Fun fact : sur mon carnet, les cheveux d'Halfdan (en crayon de couleur "sanguine" pur) ont plus la couleur de ceux de Sylvain qu'Erika qui les a orange plus vif malgré les deux couches de rouge mais là, ils font plus bruns et ceux d'Erika font plus roux-rouge comme Sylvain donc, on s'y retrouve !

+le motif au feutre sur le torse d'Erika était censé être l'emblème de Gautier mais, je me suis emmêlé les pinceaux en la passant au noir alors, ça ressemblait plus à celui de Gloucester alors, je l'ai retravaillé pour que le motif ressemble à un soleil stylisé avec une lune à cause d'Halfdan qui lui disait qu'au soleil, sa chevelure semble prendre feu et briller. Pour ses deux grains de beauté sous l'oeil, même si ce n'est pas du tout une légende scandinave, j'avais entendu dire qu'au Japon, un grain de beauté sous l'oeil symboliserait une larme et un destin tragique, ce qui irait bien à Erika qui n'a jamais pu vivre son amour avec Halfdan au grand jour, puis qui s'est vu rejeté par son fils à cause de cet amour. Par contre, elle aurait beaucoup aimé voir son petit-fils se rapprocher des srengs et embrasser complètement ses origines grâce à Fregn (avec qui elle s'entendait très bien).

Deuxième couple : Guillaume et Aliénor ! Si je suis un peu déçue de l'expression de Guillaume qui manque de mordant comparé à celui qu'il pouvait être, je suis plutôt contente d'Aliénor sur laquelle j'ai expérimenté plein de trucs ! (notamment les lunettes, c'est une des première fois que j'en fais !) Normalement, elle a un reflet roux dans les cheveux mais après une couche de jaune, puis une d'orange clair, puis une autre de jaune pour la rendre plus blonde que rousse, puis encore une autre d'orange pour tenter de lui redonner un peu de reflet, j'ai jeté l'éponge et passer une dernière couche de jaune pour qu'elle soit blonde, tant pis. Son foulard aussi est une expérimentation. Les photos qui m'ont servi de modèle reprennent des modes plus anciennes que pour Guillaume mais, je trouvais que ça lui allait bien vu qu'elle est la magicienne du groupe et que son style est un peu vieillot, il vise surtout le pratique.

Pour les couleur aussi, j'ai utilisé les deux même crayons pour leurs vêtements mais, en inversé. Aliénor ne porte même pas de couleur la liant à la famille Dominic car, elle a complètement épousé les intérêts des Fraldarius donc, elle porte leurs couleurs, notamment sur son voile où c'est le plus voyant et son chapelet porte l'emblème de Fraldarius. Pour Guillaume, il a les cheveux noirs de sa famille qui partent dans tous les sens domestiqués avec sa tresse, et il porte son alliance autour du cou pour éviter de la perdre ou qu'elle ne le gêne au combat quand il tire à l'arc ou manie Moralta, même si son rôle de protecteur est plus mis en avant avec Aegis à son bras ici (bras droit vu que comme quasi tous les Fraldarius, il est gaucher)

Ensuite, on a Nicola à gauche, et la matriarche Catherine Charon de l'autre !

Nicola n'est pas colorié car, je n'ai pas pile le bon brun pour ses cheveux alors, il attendra que je mette la main sur un bon crayon de bonne qualité pour avoir des couleurs. Ils sont censé être brun très foncé à la limite du noir, ce qui lui permettait de se faire passer pour Guillaume quand ils étaient petits et que des assassins de Clovis ou d'autres tentaient de le tuer, même si Guillaume lui a toujours formellement interdit de se faire passer pour lu afin d'éviter qu'il ne se fasse tuer par erreur (et ceux qui auraient touché à un cheveu de son meilleur ami et quasi frère adoptif auraient tous signé leur arrêt de mort) Quand ils seront plus vieux, Nicola aura le visage bien plus carré et sera plus grand que lui alors, cela évitera à Guillaume de s'inquiéter pour ça. Dans l'idée que j'en ai, physiquement, il ressemble un peu à Gilbert mais, en vraiment bon compagnon et chevalier malgré ses origines roturières et le fait qu'il ne sera jamais adoubé pour rester au service des Fraldarius.

Pour la matriarche Catherine, elle a les cheveux verts des nabatéens, mais ses yeux sont aussi bleu que ceux de sa petite-fille Cassandra / Catherine. Cette dernière reprendra d'ailleurs son nom pour lui rendre hommage : c'est un prénom relativement courant donc, elle ne se fera pas pincer dessus, ça permet de rappeler son affiliation aux Charon, et de montrer son respect pour sa grand-mère. Plus femme de loi que de guerre, c'est elle qui a mise en place une très grande partie de l'appareil idéologique justifiant le coup d'Etat de Ludovic, notamment en s'appuyant sur les travaux de ses ancêtres de la guerre du Lion et de l'Aigle, Sybille et Irina Charon-Ordélia. Malgré tout, c'est une combattante à mains nues confirmés, ce que j'ai tenté de rappeler avec les cicatrices qu'elle a sur les mains : ne vous fiez pas à son air de bureaucrate très souvent enceinte (elle a eu douze enfants après tout et blague elle-même sur le fait qu'elle a défié les statistiques en ayant onze filles d'affilés [ce qui est l'idéal pour une famille très matriarcale comme celle des Charon] et pour sa dernière grossesse, elle a eu son seul garçon avec Kimon, qui est devenu le petit frère le plus gâté et embêté par ses soeurs de l'histoire !), elle casse aussi des bouches comme sa fille Héléna qui lui ressemble beaucoup de caractère en moins cassant, et sa petite-fille Cassandra qui casse autant des bouches qu'elle !

(pas de dessin de son mari par contre, les hommes Charon sont inexistant dans ma tête sauf par obligation scénaristique ou quand c'est Théo qui a un passe-droit)

Et enfin, faites entrer le roi pour le dernier avec Ludovic ! Ici, il est un peu plus âgé que pour les autres qui sont plus de l'époque du coup d'Etat contre Clovis. Ici, je dirais que Ludovic est à la fin de sa vie quand il est rongé par la tuberculose mais, il restera jusqu'à la fin un roi fort et fier qui regarde droit devant lui et continue à avancer pour le bien de son Royaume malgré son propre corps qui le trahit !

Comme Simplex, il a les yeux vairons : un bleu roi comme tous les Blaiddyd, l'autre bleu d'eau comme l'oeil qu'à donné Pertinax à Simplex après la révolution contre les maitres et la fin de l'esclavage. Pour lui, ça peut aussi montrer son lien privilégié avec les Fraldarius. D'ailleurs, lui aussi est habillé au couleur de Guillaume et Aliénor : il ne porte que du sarcelle ou du bleu-vert, aucun bleu tout court un peu sombre comme Dimitri ou Lambert, pour bien montrer son lien avec la famille du Loup et le fait qu'il est contre la manière de penser de sa famille et surtout de Clovis.

Et voilà ! J'espère qu'ils vous ont plu !

[hanavesinauttija]

I'm gonna start posting some of my custom mtg cards since they're currently just gathering dust in their folder.

Card Transcription

Zelriel, Tearaway Traitress 1BR Legendary Creature - Devil Eminence - As long as Zelriel is in the command zone or on the battlefield, other creatures you control get -1/-1. Flying, haste Whenever Zelriel deals combat damage to an opponent, they gain control of it. Whenever a creature you control dies, you lose 3 life. 5/5 "My job here is done. 'Til we meet again."

End Transcription

Art Link

Here are some design notes:

This card is a result of wanting to make a commander with an eminence ability that was a strict downside. Being Night of Souls' Betrayal'd seemed like a solid choice, and the rest of the card came from trying to make the ability make sense.

The eminence ability restricts deckbuilding to omitting all X/1's. No Ragavans allowed.

The first step in balancing Zelriel was giving her a very good statline. A 3-mana 5/5 with flying and haste is very good. In retrospect, probably too good.

The second ability serves as both a nerf to the statline and a buff to the eminence ability. You don't get to keep the very good creature, but you do get to push the -1/-1 effect onto other players. This can be backbreaking to token decks, which leads us to...

The third ability, which synergizes with the eminence ability even further.

Zelriel can be used in combination with wraths to pseudo-Massacre Wurm them. Swing in to give control to whomever has a lot of big dudes, play Damnation, and watch their health plummet.

I tried to match her flavor to the ability the best I could. I found out about the word "traitress," which I thought was entertaining. I chose to make her a devil, as opposed to a demon, since it matches the chaotic flavor of devils in mtg better.

I think the flavor text isn't very good, but I'm not going to remake the card so it is what it is. I might change the first phrase to "Well, that was fun!" instead.

I'd probably also increase the cost by one. As it is, you can get this out turn two and kill the green deck's one-drop immediately. Then again, you'd be able to do that regardless with a Sol Ring if I increased the cost. I don't like having to consider Sol Ring when designing cards.

[ofspvrta]

μ::|| meme:             𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹'𝑺 𝑷𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑺 .          |  [ Ξ ] accepting      

θ::|| @traitresse​:  were you awake all last night ?

     The truth was she hadn’t slept. Not last night, nor the night before, nor the countless nights before that. She didn’t sleep, she doesn’t sleep. But she doesn’t share that detail, worried it would alert the other to her hidden truth, worried it could compromise so much. She yawns, forcing herself to appear tired, to ease Briala’s mind.

                 “Yes. I couldn’t sleep. I’ll be fine.”

[betterthanher3]

[inbrunstig]

@traitresse sent “ i  just  want  to  feel  something. “

It’s whispered when Sascha is close to her, the women intertwined in the throes of another night together. It pangs the Warden-Commander’s heart—makes her stop her previous actions of peppering kisses down Briala’s neck and instead forces her to sit up, looking down at the other woman.

A hand reaches out and gently cradles Briala’s cheek. Silence passes between them for several moments, Sascha searching what to say.

“We can just sit here, in each other’s company,” she offers softly, thumb stroking a cheekbone in reverence. “Perhaps this isn’t what you want tonight?”

[dwellordream]

The Protestant Virgin Mary: Mary as an Ordinary Woman

“The Protestant portrait of the Virgin Mary was at its most positive in its depiction of her at the Annunciation, when she was described as having done God’s will in bearing Jesus. James Endell Tyler, a traditional high-church and anti-Roman Catholic writer who became canon of St Paul’s Cathedral in 1845, lauded Mary at the Annunciation as ‘a spotless virgin, humble, pious, obedient, holy: a chosen servant of God’, while the Methodist minister and professor Thomas Jackson was certain that in her ‘early life Mary was an example of deep piety’.

Drawing on legends from the early church and the Middle Ages, the nonconformist minister Henry Hamlet Dobney described the young woman whom the angel encountered as one whose ‘youth had been consecrated to God. Her mind was familiar with the high and holy themes on which the psalmists and prophets of Israel had loved to dwell, and she nourished her heart with the sublime hopes that they inspired.’ However, the Protestant Mary exercised those virtues passively rather than actively when, with ‘prompt resignation’, she ‘meekly ... yielded up her entire self, body, soul, and spirit, to the will of the Highest’.

When Protestants could describe the Virgin Mary as embodying the traits they believed were inherently female – purity, obedience, maternity – they could praise her as an admirable woman. For example, at the Annunciation she closely resembled the modest, devout, young women praised in Victorian texts. Here she could be imagined as exemplifying Sarah Ann Sewell’s advice that ‘it is a man’s place to rule, and a woman’s to yield. He must be held up as the head of the house, and it is her duty to bend so unmurmuringly to his wishes.’

Womanly submission led to household harmony, or, as at the Annunciation, harmony between heaven and earth. It is here that we can accept Sally Cunneen’s assertion: ‘In part because Mary seemed so much like the Victorian ideal, especially because of her maternity, she began to receive a curiously positive reception among some distinguished Protestant writers.’ Her virtues of humility, piety, and obedience notwithstanding, the Protestant Mary was not uniquely blessed by becoming the mother of Jesus. (She was not the Mother of God, a title the traditional high-church cleric Edward Wilson dismissed as an affectation, but only ‘the mother of our Lord’s humanity’.) 

A variety of Protestants cited Deborah’s praise of Jael – ‘Blessed above women shall Jael the wife of Heber be’ – to show that it was no extraordinary mark of praise to call a woman ‘blessed’. On the surface, this was simple textual criticism, evaluating one phrase in its larger context in order to argue against using even the scriptural first half of the Hail Mary. However, likening Mary to a minor biblical figure also subtly undermined even the praise she had earned at the Annunciation and thus laid the groundwork to reduce her status to that of an ordinary woman. 

This opportunity was taken by the writer Annette Calthrop when she argued that Jael was no heroine but a ‘traitress’ and a ‘murderess’ for inviting Sisera into her tent in order to kill him. Thus she reminded her readers that Jael had done a man’s work and claimed a man’s honour when she took revenge on Sisera. Although Calthrop purported to contrast Mary, who had been praised by an angel, positively against Jael, who had been lauded by mere mortals, her disparaging of Jael tainted Mary also, given the tradition of equating the two women. 

Invoking Jael also could be a reminder of the popular stereotype of women as duplicitous, a stereotype that coexisted with and was not eradicated by the stereotype of women as morally superior to men. Finally, the comparison with Jael – who performed a symbolic rape when she murdered Sisera by driving a tent peg through his head – could subtly strengthen the criticism that Mary interfered with Jesus’ work, either by trying to involve herself in his public work or by diverting attention away from him. 

The equating of Mary and Jael defined Jesus’ mother as an unnatural woman. Pregnancy was historically one of the markers of women’s closeness to nature; it was taken to signify that women, like animals, were governed by their bodies rather than by their minds, as men constantly were claimed to be. However, the lengthy Catholic tradition of describing Mary’s pregnancy as a manifestation of her unique relationship with the divine, coupled with the centrality of the Incarnation in Christian tradition and the privileging of maternity in Victorian culture, made it difficult to redefine it as a negative. 

Protestants rarely described the Virgin Mary in positive terms. Here their traditionally close reliance on the gospels’ narrative allowed them to ignore, for the most part, Mary’s pregnancy. The Protestant Mary, like the scriptural Mary, made only brief appearances while pregnant. On the rare occasions Protestants acknowledged her pregnancy, they did so usually in the manner of the traditional high-churchman Samuel Wilberforce, who in 1842 airily assured Queen Victoria and her court: ‘At length the months of waiting passed away, and the gracious birth was come.’

(Given the Queen’s dislike of childbearing, one wonders whether she had sardonically wished that the months of pregnancy were so fleeting or had scorned Wilberforce for being unrealistic.) The anonymous author of The Virgin Mary, a married woman was unusual in choosing to discuss Mary’s pregnancy in more detail, but he did so only to assert that she remained unchanged by her close contact with the divine. He rejected Ullathorne’s thesis that the blood flowing between Mary’s heart and the developing Jesus had, with every heartbeat, ‘enrich[ed] her with His divinest spirit’. 

Instead, he argued: ‘The child ... takes from the mother but imparts nothing to her, and not one particle of the Godhead of Jesus was imparted to Mary, nor could she by becoming His mother derive from Him any of His special attributes, whether fleshly or otherwise; nor by giving birth to the sinless did she herself attain that perfection’. Describing pregnancy as a one-way process (as indeed, biologically, it was), this anonymous Protestant author subverted the traditional image of the selfless pregnant woman when he implied that the Catholic Virgin Mary was a potentially predatory mother who would steal Jesus’ divinity. 

Having undone the connection between Mary’s pregnancy and her close relationship with the divine, he may have hoped that his readers would be mindful of the negative tendencies associated with women’s fertility, including their alleged susceptibility to hysteria, a medical term that itself asserts the connection between women’s childbearing capacities and their irrationality. The Mary he described, who was spiritually removed from the child she carried, had all the disadvantages and none of the advantages of pregnancy. Curiously untouched by her pregnancy, she was equally detached from the divine. 

The rarity of this line of reasoning, however, suggests the difficulty of defining Mary’ pregnancy as anything other than a positive event, in her life as well as in the Christian history of salvation. It was perhaps for this reason that Victorian Protestants usually declined to discuss Mary’s pregnancy. The growing importance of Christmas as a holiday, encouraged in part by Charles Dickens’s A Christmas carol (which itself places the mother, Mrs Cratchit, at the centre of family life) and Victoria and Albert’s popularisation of the Christmas tree, meant that Nativity images became more common. 

For example, most of the references to the Virgin in Hymns ancient & modern – which, although produced by Tractarians and their sympathisers, was determinedly ecumenical – are in Christmas hymns. Images of the Virgin and Child inspired diverse reactions, tempered by an individual’s position and goals. Elite Protestants, especially those with no particular public anti-Catholic agenda, were the most likely to respond neutrally to these images which, when they encountered them abroad, they could regard as aesthetic objects or local curiosities rather than devotional aids that were an affront to their own religiosity.

They often noted images of the Madonna and Child in continental churches and village shrines with little, if any, negative comment. They generally regarded them as charming examples of a foreign culture, albeit one that was deplorably over-emotional and ignorant of the true faith. They responded more positively to artistic images, perhaps because they could be approached as aesthetic rather than religious objects. The politician Austen Henry Layard, who was convinced that the Roman Catholic Church was filled with ‘superstitions, and clogs upon the intellectual development of men’, nevertheless described a Giorgione painting of the Madonna and Child he saw in Madrid in 1872 as ‘very charming’, with no mention of either goddess worship or superstition. 

Thirty-seven years earlier, as a young man visiting the Louvre, he had been impressed by ‘a Virgin and Child by Murillo which I thought wonderful’. Although the art historian and author Anna Brownell Jameson was unsympathetic to Roman Catholicism and ‘the worship of the Madonna’ she believed it to promote, her tone softened noticeably when she discussed representations of the Madonna and Child in her Legends of the Madonna as represented in the fine arts. 

She decried those images, so beloved by Catholics, of the baby Jesus and Mary embracing as ‘a deviation from the solemnity of the purely religious significance’, but she found more formal pictures of the Madonna and Child to be ‘sublime conceptions’. When viewing these works, she admitted, ‘it is difficult, very difficult, to refrain from an Ora pro Nobis (Pray for us)’. Not everyone could accept such images of the Virgin Mary as aesthetically pleasing depictions of a loving mother or as charming foreign relics.

Those who recognised the polemical value of anti-Roman Catholicism described Mary as the anxious, unsure mother of an aloof infant. Samuel Wilberforce described an uneasy Nativity scene in which a humble and awestruck Mary made a futile attempt to understand her newborn son. There was the full tide of a mother’s love for the Babe which slept beside her; there was the awful reverence of her pious soul for the unknown majesty of Him who of her had taken human flesh. Depths were all around her, into which her spirit searched, in which it could find no resting-place. How was He, this infant of days, the everlasting Son? How was He to make atonement for her sins and the sins of her people? When would the mystery begin to unfold itself? As yet it lay upon her thick and impenetrable; all was dark around her.

…While the figure of the Virgin Mary had less cultural authority in Protestant than in Catholic cultures, representations of her as the mother of Jesus carried more weight than those of other mothers, such as appeared in novels, conduct manuals, or parliamentary commissions. In shifting the power balance from the mother, who should have been the protector, to the son, Wilberforce and Barrett also subtly undermined the image of mothers in general as the loving and powerful protectors of their infants. Unflattering portraits such as Wilberforce’s and Barrett’s were unusual, however, because it was difficult to describe any mother of a newborn, let alone the woman Christians believed to be the mother of the Saviour, in negative terms. 

Protestants who wished to limit the attention paid to the mother and focus on the infant usually ignored, as much as possible, the Virgin Mary at the Nativity. ‘S.M.’ deflected attention away from Mary when she instructed her readers in Charlotte Elizabeth’s evangelical and anti-Roman Catholic Christian lady’s magazine: ‘Take notice, the wise men paid no adoration to the virgin mother, but to the child only; they fell down and worshipped Him.’ When the clergyman (and friend of the Ruskins) Daniel Moore mentioned Mary in his 1854 lectures on the birth of Jesus, he usually coupled her name with that of Joseph, thereby implicitly equating the relationship of mother and foster-father.

Demonstrating the latent anti-Semitism characteristic of even well-educated Victorians, Moore ascribed Mary and Joseph’s lack of knowledge of Micah’s prophecy regarding Bethlehem to the ‘very low condition ... of the whole Jewish nation, in regard to their religious intelligence, coupled with the obscurity and impoverished circumstances of Joseph and Mary’. For the Protestant Mary and Joseph, poverty and obscurity were not signs of praiseworthy humility but an occasion for condemnation. Devotional images of the Madonna and Child were another matter, however, especially for the Protestant controversialists who sought inflammatory images to support their charges that Catholicism was a pagan religion.”

- Carol Engelhardt Herringer, “ The Protestant Virgin Mary.” in Victorians and the Virgin Mary: Religion and Gender in England 1830-1885

[fancyfade]

💲🧠for raven and 🤲 please 🥺

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

Maybe over the summer when I have more free time :P IDK the legalities of fanwork commissions tho or how it would go

🧠 Pick a character, and I’ll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

i love the raven chronic pain headcanon that is kind of canon maybe so much. but it just fits her so well.

besides that (and the obvious, like lesbian and autistic) raven adjacent headcanons: i have decided that most stuff in trigon's dimension is like our stuff but edgy (like the cows are aurochs, the eggs (whereever they get them from) are bigger and slightly green with a slight sulfury taste). this was to simplify descriptions when writing the trigon's world fic and i know its lazy but i like it so :P its one of my faves

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

i know you are raven starved so here is some from the where are you raven chapter 2 i haven't published yet

Raven tries later, when she is alone, feeling happy.

She stands in front of her mirror. It still is unnatural to see her face, even though this is the face she should have been born with, were it not for Azar's corrupting influence. This should be the her she is used to seeing.

She pokes at her cheeks. They are so hollow. She remembers smiles most acutely from Koriand'r's cheeks –

Don't think about her, don't think about that traitress –

How round they were, how she was round all over her body, her hips, her breasts, the muscles in her arms –

it hurts.

It should not hurt her.

Koriand'r can do nothing to her anymore.

So Raven should be able to smile.