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dalishious · 2 years ago

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Catching up with Thedas

We’re getting another time-skip between Dragon Age: Inquisition’s Trespasser DLC and Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Here’s a summary of things that have happened in the supplementary material leading up to this. Obviously, major spoiler warning for everything discussed here.

If this summary intrigues you, I would definitely suggest checking out the full stories for yourself. They’re all great—especially the comics. The characters in the comics are so good and that’s not something you get to appreciate just in summaries.

Major takeaways:

The Venatori are still active, especially in Tevinter, where a woman named Aelia (who is now imprisoned by the templars) took over after Corypheus was defeated and attempted to raise a powerful demon buried under Minrathous. The demon is still resting there, and the remains of the Venatori are still about. Although, the Antivan Crows have been hired to assassinate Venatori agents, and are picking them off one by one

The Qunari are invading the north again, and the following cities have been taken over: Ventus (Tevinter), Carastes (Tevinter), Neromenian (Tevinter), and Treviso (Antiva). They plan to move further into Rivain. However, the Antaam are on thin ice with the rest of the Qun, having acted against orders in the city of Ventus – suggesting there may be fracturing of leadership. This is further implied through the Ben-Hassrath declaring neutrality on the war with Tevinter. At the same time, the Qunari are also searching elven ruins trying to gather information about the Dread Wolf

There is a group of elves known as the Agents of Fen’Harel infiltrated all over Thedas and stirring up shit, including fanning the flames of war between Tevinter and the Qunari

The red lyrium idol has been everywhere, man… It was taken out of Meredith’s statue by the Carta, somehow wound up Tevinter, possessed by House Qintara, where it was traded it for information to House Danarius, where it was then stolen by Cedric Marquette, who gave it to Tractus Danarius, who brought it to Nevarra hoping Mortalitasi would help unlock it, where it was then taken back to Tevinter, only to somehow end up in Solas’s hands

Speaking of red lyrium, guess who is also still active? The red templars. And they are serving none other than an awakened but still crystalized Meredith Stannard in Kirkwall, who is known as “The Crimson Knight” by her followers

All Grey Wardens have been summoned to Weisshaupt for reasons unknown

The Grey Wardens have uncovered the remains of a dwarven thaig called Hormok, where beneath it they found elven ruins with signs it was a place of worship for Ghilan’nain. In these elven ruins, they find a magic pool that turns creatures into spliced-up monsters with parts of different beings melded together. While the wardens destroy this place, there are still eleven others out there somewhere

The Arlathan Forest has come alive with magic, changing place and time within it

Solas is in possession of an elven artifact called “the crucious stone”, with unknown powers

Dragon Age: Knight Errant (9:44)

Vaea is an elven squire to wandering knight Ser Aaron Hawthorne. She is recruited by Charter to rescue Tessa Forsythia and Marius (from the Magekiller comics) from where they were caught on their mission. They were sent by the Inquisition to infiltrate Starkhaven’s palace and steal a book with research on red lyrium in Sebastian Vael’s possession. Vaea successfully rescues them and then steals the book herself, but not without a fight with Cedric Marquette, an Orlesian scholar who is also after the book on behalf of the lingering Venatori. It’s found out from the book that the Venatori may already be in possession of red lyrium, and Vaea offers to go to Tevinter to investigate. Aaron agrees to join her, aware and supportive of her work for the Inquisition.

Dragon Age: Deception (9:44)

Olivia Pryde is a con artist working in Ventus, Tevinter. The city is under high tension because of an imminent Qunari invasion. She pretends to be a Magister investigating Calix Qintara, the son of a reclusive fellow Magister, until it’s discovered that Calix is also a con artist. They try to outdo one another in a con contest against sister and brother, Francesca and Florian Invidus, but both are revealed as liars. In their fleeing, they run into Ser Aaron Hawthorne, who coaxes them into helping with his and Vaea’s mission. Vaea’s goal is to steal the red lyrium that was taken from Kirkwall supposedly held in the Qintara estate. Also ending up as part of their plan is a deal with two Antivan Crows, (later revealed in Tevinter Nights to be Teia Cantori and Viago De Riva). While the Crows create a distraction—though one that ends up with the death of Florian—Olivia and Calix con their way into getting floor plans of the Qintara estate, which Vaea uses to successfully break in. Unfortunately for everyone, Francesca pushes her way through and demands to speak to Magister Qintara to reveal Calix has been posing as his son, only to find out that Magister Qintara has been dead for years, and his former elven slave Gaius has been posing as him in order to collect valuable information to pass on to the Agents of Fen’Harel. Vaea discovers that the vault that was supposed to contain the red lyrium is empty, having already been sold to House Danarius. At the exact same time, the Qunari attack the city of Ventus, throwing their mission into a very time sensitive window to escape. Olivia sacrifices herself in order for Vaea, Aaron, Calix, and Francesca to flee the city.

Dragon Age: Blue Wraith (9:45)

Outside Carastes, which has been overrun by Qunari, Cedric Marquette flees from a chasing squad of them with a strange sarcophagus-like device in his possession that he is taking to Magister Nenealeus, who trains slaves into perrepatae; mage-killers. (He was the Magister who trained Marius.) Also chasing after Cedric is Vaea and her crew, hoping he will lead them to Castellum Tenebris, home of House Danarius, where they want to recover the red lyrium. Francesca leaves the group, and Vaea decides to chase after her to convince her to stay with them. Francesca is told by a family friend that her father was taken by the mysterious Blue Wraith (AKA Fenris). She decides to pursue Fenris and rescue her father in an attempt to prove her worth to him, with Vaea tagging along. They find Fenris, but it turns out he did not in fact take Francesca’s father, but rather her father is working with Magister Nenealeus. Inside the Nenealeus’s estate, they discover it has been overrun by Qunari, and overhear an enslaved elf tell the Qunari that the Magisters plan on using an elven sarcophagus artifact to infuse an elven perrepatae with lyrium. Fenris flips out and attacks, recognizing that they have restored the means of which he was experimented on. Meanwhile, Aaron and co. track Cedric down to his meeting with Nenealeus, and the Magister, realizing they are being watched, uses the sarcophagus on a human slave. The slave goes crazy and attacks Aaron’s party, before exploding. With Aaron’s party as well as the Qunari in pursuit of Nenealeus, Cedric, and Francesca’s father, they launch several more human explosives to escape, but Francesca “rescues” her father. He is furious at her for this, and attacks, forcing Francesca to kill him. Calix realizes he’s not cut out for such death and destruction, and departs from the group. Fenris joins them, and together Vaea, Aaron, Francesca, Tessa, Marius, and Fenris head for Castellum Tenebris.

Dragon Age: Dark Fortress (9:45)

Tractus Danarius, bastard son of Magister Danarius, welcomes Nenealeus and Cedric to Castellum Tenebris, which sits on the outskirts of Neromenian. Nenealeus reveals his plan to infuse the elven perrepatae, Shirallas, with red lyrium, believing he will be so powerful as to drive out the Qunari and then expand Tevinter’s control of Thedas back to the glory days of the empire. Vaea and Fenris capture and interrogate Tractus while the others act as lookout, and gather the information needed. Fenris wants to kill Tractus, but Vaea convinces him not to, as they need to get out of Neromenian ASAP since the Qunari picked the perfect time to invade. The Qunari find Tractus still tied up and he tells them about the ritual as well, so they prepare to go to Castellum Tenebris too. Vaea manages to sneak into the castle and then lets in the others through a secret passage. At the end of the tunnel they find a chained up high dragon. Vaea and Fenris attempt to flee the dragon while Aaron, Francesca, Tessa and Marius fight off the Venatori, while the Qunari attempt to break in through the front gate. While all this is going on, Nenealeus completes the ritual on Shirallas, infusing him with red lyrium. Fenris makes a deal with the Qunari to join forces against the Venatori. Marius and Vaea are able to take out Nenealeus, and Fenris and Aaron are able to defeat Shirallas, with the help of Cedric who switches sides at the last minute and reveals his weakness. This comes at the cost of Aaron’s life, though. Tractus gets away, and forces Cedric to hand over the red lyrium idol he stole. Solas watches this from an eluvian.

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights (post-9:44, exact times unknown)

[RELATED POST – Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights Review]

(For more information on Tevinter Nights, I recommend checking out my review linked above.)

Three Trees to Midnight

After the Qunari took over the city of Ventus, they sent the healthy men into work camps on the outskirts of the Arlathan Forest, put to work cutting down trees. Myrion is one such worker, but is secretly a mage. He is chained up to an elf named Strife and immediately calls him a “filthy knife-ear” three times in the same paragraph, insulted to be paired with him. (He continues to do so the entire story, by the way.) They get in trouble for fighting. Strife is revealed to be an undercover Dalish, (though originally from Starkhaven). He was sent to rescue another Dalish elf named Thantiel who uncovered the Qunari invasion plans, though Thantiel was poisoned with an overdose of qamek, irreversibly turning him into a mindless labourer as well. Strife uncovers the plans and he and Myrion escape into the Arlathan Forest, after Myrion uses his magic to help them get away. In the forest they meet up with Irelin, a shapeshifting member of Strife’s clan, who takes off to spread word to other Dalish Clans of the Qunari plans to move into Rivain. The Qunari are also tracking the two escapees, and when the lead Qunari catches up to them, they take him out with the power of teamwork. When the rest of the Qunari catch up, the Huntsmaster reveals himself to actually be Saarbrak of the Ben-Hassrath, sent to investigate the Antaam working against the Qun’s orders in Ventus. Saarbrak kills the lead Qunari and lets the escaped prisoners go. They free themselves from the chains tying them together, and Strife leaves with Irelin, who came back for him.

Down Among the Dead Men

Audric Felhausen, a new member of the Funeral Guard, is recruited by the Mortalitasi’s Mourn Watch, (an elite fraternity among the Mortalitasi that act as guardians of the Grand Necropolis,) to track down and find the pre-maturely possessed corpse of nobleman Penrick Karn in the Grand Necropolis. Karn is after Duke Janus Van Markham, who also died in the mutually-fatal duel Karn perished from. Audric and Mourn Watcher Myrna head into the tombs after Karn. In their exploration, Audric comes to realize that the human Audric was killed at Karn’s funeral, and is actually a spirit possessing Audric’s body. Myrna hoped that taking Audric with her would help settle him into peace. In the end, Audric challenges Karn to a duel, but when Karn breaks the rules of the duel, Myrna rids the body of the spirit of Pride within it. Back in the Mourn Watch headquarters, Audric is offered a position in their library.

The Horror of Hormak

I actually already wrote out a long summary of this story here: [LINK]

Callback

(I’ll be honest: I only skimmed this one. It’s boring as fuck and I told myself I’d never read it again the first time I slogged through it, but here we are… So if I missed something actually important, my apologies. But I doubt it.)

Sutherland and Company, as well as a bunch of other NPCs from Skyhold, return to the Skyhold fortress to investigate why the remaining caretakers have gone silent. They end up fighting a demon of Regret, formed out of the plaster of Solas’s murals. They send the spirit back to the Fade, and leave Skyhold abandoned.

Luck in the Gardens

This story is told in the form of “Hollix” (an alias), the Lord of Fortune protagonist who is a master of disguise, recounting it at a tavern in Dairsmuid. Hollix tells a story about how they were hired by Dorian Pavus and Maevaris Tilani to hunt down a monster that was terrorizing Minrathous, called the Cekorax. The monster was first encountered by the Venatori, who were searching for an old cave under the city. It steals the heads of its victims and makes them part of it. They are able to destroy the Cekorax with the help of Dorian and a little girl named Mizzy.

Hunger

On their way to Weisshaupt, the dwarven woman Evka Ivo from Orzammar and elven man Antoine from Orlais, both Grey Wardens, stop in a small Anderfells village called Eichweill. They come to find out that people are disappearing in the village. The two come to uncover that it is werewolves responsible for the disappearances. The son of a noble named Renke starved in the woods and attracted a hunger demon, turning him into the first werewolf. Evka and Antoine hunt Renke down and fight him, and Antoine ends up getting bitten himself. However, they set a successful trap back at the village and kill Renke, believing Antoine and the others affected are now safe from the curse with its source defeated, and the demon banished.

Murder by Death Mages

Lord Henrik, a Mortalitasi, tips off the Inquisition that there is a plot to assassinate a noble in Nevarra. Sidony (from Dragon Age Inquisition’s multiplayer) is sent by the Inquisition to stop this, as she was raised by Henrik. She goes to meet Antonia, another Mortalitasi mage and friend of Henrik, who invites Sidony to attend a party hosted by a noble named Nicolas Reinhardt, where she will be able to meet with a man named Cyrros. Cyrros is an elf who has everyone in debt to him by knowing the secrets of every noble in the city, and Antonia suggests he will be able to help Sidony discover the assassin. Sidony recruits Cyrros as a partner in her investigation, after he says he believes it’s a Mortalitasi responsible. They find Reinhardt’s dead wife, and Cyrros attacks Sidony. She wakes up and overhears Nicolas Reinhardt reveal that he hired Cyrros to assassinate his political rivals and blame it on the Mortalitasi, but now thinks Cyrros killed his wife, which Cyrros denies. Sidony raises the corpse of Reinhardt’s wife and commands it to attack them both, killing Reinhardt and Cyrros. Sidony believes everything to be over, and goes to Henrik’s funeral, where she meets Antonia again. Antonia spills that she was the one who killed Henrick and Reinhardt’s wife, and traps Sidony in the tomb. Sidony somehow escapes though and goes after Antonia, planning to kill her.

The Streets of Minrathous

Neve Gallus is a private investigator hired by Otho Calla to uncover if Quentin Calla (his nephew) has fallen back in with the remains of the Venatori. Neve follows Quentin and witnesses his fatal stabbing by a figure in a bronze mask. The next day, Neve is told by Knight-Templar Rana Savas that another suspected Venatori was murdered the same night, named Lady Varantus. Neve is invited into the Templar investigation, up until the Varantus family request it closed to avoid bad press. Neve then meets a mysterious man who tells her the murderer, named Aelia, is after a set of clay discs held by Venatori agents, and gives her one of these discs. Aelia ends up attacking Neve for the disc—or rather, the “seal” as she calls it, and leaves Neve for dead. Neve saves herself though, and meets the mysterious man again, who is really a man named Flavian Bataris. Flavian reveals that there is an extremely powerful demon sealed beneath the city of Minrathous, and Corypheus planned on releasing it to destroy the city and build the centre of his new empire over it. The plan fell to the wayside when Corypheus was defeated, up until Aelia took over the remains of the cult, and now plans on summoning the demon herself. Neve informs Knight-Templar Savas of this plan, but storms out in frustration over the Order’s lack of willingness to do anything about it. Neve then heads into the Catacombs where Flavian told her the ritual would be held, and tries to stop it. At first she is unsuccessful on her own, but then three templars, including Savas, show up to back her up. They defeat the Venatori and arrest Aelia.

The Wigmaker Job

In Vyrantium, Ambrose Forfex, a successful wigmaker, is told by Crispin Kavlo and Felicia Erimond that he should cancel his wig show because The Antivan Crows have been assassinating Venatori agents. Ambrose decides to put on the show anyway. Sure enough, Lucanis Dellamorte and his cousin Illario Dellamorte prepare to infiltrate the party. There is a bit of tension between them, because Illario wants to become the next head of the House after their grandmother Caterina steps down, but people talk about how Lucanis should take that position, despite him having no desire to do so. They are interrupted by someone poorly trying to listen in on their conversation, and kill the eavesdropper. In his pocket, they find a letter sighed ‘A’, believing him to be sent by Ambrose. After sneaking into the party in the courtyard, Illario distracts a guard with his charm in order for Lucanis to get the keys to the place. They regroup after Lucanis kills the other guards inside. They find an enslaved elf girl, but Lucanis refuses to kill her, and she is all too happy that they are there to kill Ambrose, so they let her go. In Ambrose’s work room, they uncover the secret to his perfect wigs: He feeds his slaves red lyrium to create red-lyrium infused hair. Lucanis destroys the elven artifact Ambrose keeps in his workshop to prevent the veil from tearing, and while the party is erupted with demons. Illario leads the slaves of the estate that are able to escape to safety and freedom, while Lucanis confronts Ambrose. Ambrose shovels his magic wig hair into his mouth and becomes an abomination, but Lucanis still successfully kills him. The following day, Crispin and Felicia visit Magister Zara Renata and inform her that Ambrose is dead. Crispin says Zara will likely soon be a target herself, to which she responds that she has plans to take down Lucanis.

Genitivi Dies in the End

This story is impossible to make a summary of, because it’s told in the form of Philliam writing down what happened but full of fabrication, making it unclear what is real and what is fake. So nothing really matters. The only known fact is Rasaan, (a Qunari tamassran introduced in the Those Who Speak comics,) is leading a search for elven ruins trying to find information on the Dread Wolf. That’s really all that matters, I promise.

Herold Had the Plan

Dwarf Bharv and elf Elim, two Lords of Fortune, were after an amulet held at the Grand Tourney. Their friend Herold already died, and now they are on the run from Starkhaven guardsmen, along with their hired help, Panzstott. It turns out Panzstott is the real reason they guards are after them, as he stole the precious Celebrant sword, supposed to be given to the winner of the Tourney. He is working for a woman named Lady Lucie, who promises that she will help Panzstott find his sister, who left to become a Grey Warden and has never been heard of since. Lucie believes the Celebrant belongs to her, because her dead husband was the last Champion. A fight between everyone and the guards ensues, where Elim and Bharv are mortally wounded—however, it turns out the amulet has magic healing powers, and saves Bharv’s life. He heads to the pre-arranged meeting spot and gives the amulet to Vaea (from the Knight Errant-onward comics.)

An Old Crow's Old Tricks

After a group of Tevinter soldiers led by Magister Bicklius attack the Dalish clan Oranavra, the remaining clan members reach out to make a contract with the Antivan Crows to kill the soldiers. Lessef, an elderly Crow but still deadly, fulfills the contract, killing the soldiers one by one. In the end, she stands off with Bicklius, and in addition to killing him, steals back a precious halla statue he stole from the clan. Lessef then runs to her getaway boat yelling in Qunlat so that the soldiers she let chase her believe the attack was from the Qunari. Her partner Tainsley sails them away, happy that his uncle’s clan will get their halla statue back.

Eight Little Talons 🖤

All Eight Talons (the leaders of the most powerful Crow branches) are called to a meeting at the Verdant Isle of Lago di Novo by First Talon Caterina Dellamorte, to discuss the impending Qunari invasion of Antiva. Fifth Talon Viago De Riva is the last to arrive, where he meets Seventh Talon Andarateia “Teia” Cantori, (both of whom were first introduced in the Deception comics.) At their first meal together, the group argue while Third Talon Lera Valisti is notably absent. Viago and Teia are sent to investigate where Lera is, and find her dead, with her body displayed mimicking an infamous Crow murder of the past. The finger-pointing starts immediately and Caterina puts Verdant Isle on lockdown, forbidding anyone from leaving. This especially pisses off Sixth Talon Bolivar Nero. The next morning, they find all the servants have been murdered. Eighth Talon Giuli Arainai was also murdered the same night. Both again, in the style of famous Crow events. Caterina orders Viago and Second Talon Dante Balazar confined to their quarters, as they are the number one suspects. Teia ignores the rule about no visitors and breaks into Viago’s room anyway, where the two come up with a plan to coax the truth out of Dante, with a mixture of Teia’s natural silver tongue and a truth poison of Viago’s making. They are able to confirm Dante is not the killer. That evening, Teia and Fourth Talon Emil Kortez find Dante dead, while at the same time, Viago is attacked by a poisonous snake hidden in his clothing. Before he perishes, Teia returns to his room and finds anti-venom among Viago’s many alchemical vials. They figure out the killer is Emil, and upon confronting him, Catrina takes him out with her cane. Before Emil dies, he reveals he was contacted by the Qunari, and made an agreement with them that if he could destroy the Crows, they would invade peacefully and Antivans could keep their way of life, without submitting to the Qun. The remaining Crows then all stab Emil to death. With the killer dealt with, Catrina, Viago and Teia all make a plan, and send written orders to the head of each House, (the heirs, in the case of those now dead.)

Half up Front

Vadis, runaway daughter of a Magister, and Irian Cestes, former elven servant, are thieves for hire working in Minrathous. They are hired by a mysterious elven woman to steal back an artifact known as Dumat's Folly, which is said to be a piece of the Black City, from the Archon’s palace. They discover that the artefact has been stolen by the Qunari, and are able to track the thieves to Kont-aar in Rivain using blood magic. The two travel to Kont-aar and sneak onto a dreadnaught holding a ton of magic objects the Qunari are studying. But the whole thing turns out to be a set-up by the mysterious elf. She reveals several things in her villainous gloating: That she works for the Dread Wolf, that she has possession of the real Dumat’s Folly, and that the “Dumat’s Folly” that Vadis found on the dreadnaught is actually a magic bomb soon to explode. Her goal is to implicate a Tevinter mage in the destruction of Kont-aar. Vadis and Irian overpower the elf, but the elf bites down on a poison pill hidden in her mouth and dies. Vadis blows the dreadnaught out to sea using wind magic, and she and Irian escape on a lifeboat just in time to avoid the giant explosion. Back on shore, they are interrogated by Ben-Hassrath agent Gatt (from Dragon Age Inquisition), who shares that they were tricked into stealing the artifact in the first place by an Agent of Fen’Harel among their ranks. Gatt says that the Ben-Hassrath will remain officially neutral on the invasion. Gatt suggests they go to Kirkwall, but Vadis and Irian decide to go to Val Royeaux for a vacation instead.

The Dread Wolf Take You

Charter (from Dragon Age Inquisition) attends a meeting with some of the best spies across Thedas at a place called the Teahouse in Hunter Fell, Nevarra. At the table is a dwarf from the Carta, an Orlesian bard, a Mortalitasi mage, and a mysterious Executor from across the sea. She says she invited someone from Tevinter and the Ben-Hassrath, but they both declined. First, the dwarf tells a tale about how he and his crew used a special solvent that softens lyrium, allowing them to extract the red lyrium idol from Meredith’s statue in Kirkwall. At the meeting location a man from House Qintara (from the Deception comics) shows up and takes the idol. Also at the meeting were former templars looking for the solvent that softens red lyrium, but they were all killed in their sleep by the Dread Wolf. The Mortalitasi speaks next, about how a man from House Danarius, (that being Tractus from the Dark Fortress comics), brought the idol to her group of mages, asking for help unlocking it. They do so in a ritual, but it draws the attention of the Dread Wolf, who is angered by them using his idol to “vandalize the sea of dreams”. One of the Mortalitasi mages fled with the idol leaving the rest to die, but the speaker managed to escape with her life. Finally the Orlesian bard speaks of how the idol wound up in auction house in Llomerryn, where the Dread Wolf himself took possession of it. By this time though, Charter has come to realize that the Orlesian Bard is actually Solas in disguise, and asks for her life. Solas kills the other attendees, but spares Charter. She tells him he doesn’t have to do this, but Solas insists he does, before leaving.

Dragon Age: Absolution (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Elven rogue Miriam and Orlesian human warrior Roland, a couple of mercenaries, are recruited by Fairbanks (DA:I) to join his group, who are tasked by the remains of the Inquisition to steal a magic artifact known as the Circulum Infinitus from the Summer Palace of Nessum in Tevinter. The group also consists of the dwarf warrior Lacklon, the tal-vashoth mage Qwydion, and lastly human mage Hira, who Miriam has a romantic history with. Miriam and her deceased twin brother Neb were formerly enslaved by the man now studying the Circulum, Rezaren Ammosine. She is reluctant to return to Nessum, but Hira convinces her to help. Their heist does not go as planned however, and Hira is captured while Miriam is gravely wounded, but the others scoop her up and flee. Rezaren uses blood magic to contact Miriam in her dreams and tries to convince her to return to him so they can be like his idea of a family, but she refuses. It’s also revealed through flashbacks that Miriam was forced to kill Neb when Rezaren’s mother put a demon inside him to prevent Rezaren from failing his Harrowing, except Rezaren used blood magic to bind a spirit to his body that he now controls. Rezaren’s hope is to use the Circulum to bring Neb back to life for real. Miriam and the rest of the gang stage a rescue mission for Hira, but when they regroup back at their base, it’s revealed that Hira was planning on betraying them to “The Crimson Knight”. Rezaren chases after them, and manages to begin the blood ritual to try and bring Neb back. Neb’s spirit destroys his body rather than return though, and Miriam is able to kill Rezaren. She then asks Hira to choose their relationship over her quest to destroy the Tevinter Imperium, which Hira refuses, and flees with the Circulum, intending to bring it to none other than an alive once more Meredith Stannard from DA:2. Meredith is leading what remains of the red templars. Miriam and her friends vow to chase after Hira and stop her.

Dragon Age: The Missing (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Varric Tethras and Lace Harding are tasked by Charter to try and track down Solas, all the while stalked by a mysterious figure in Venatori Assassin clothes. Their adventure first takes them to the Deep Roads under Marnas Pell in Tevinter, where they encounter two Grey Wardens, Evka Ivo and Antoine (from the Tevinter Nights story, Hunger). They find an abandoned hideout with an invitation to the home of Lady Crysanthus in Vyrantium, where they investigate next. When they arrive in Vyrantium though, they find it under siege by the Qunari. This doesn’t stop them from breaking into Lady Crysanthus’s estate though, where they meet the Antivan Crows Viago De Riva and Teia Cantori (from the Tevinter Nights story, Eight Little Talons). Viago and Teia were there to kill Lady Crysanthus, but Solas beat them to it by turning her to stone. They discover evidence that Crysanthus was working for the Venatori, who are after an elven artifact called “the crucious stone” located in the Arlathan Forest. Viago and Teia share that the Crows are working against the Venatori, before they all part ways. In the Arlathan Forest, Varric and Harding encounter a group of “Veil Jumpers”, led by Strife (from the Tevinter Nights story, Three Trees to Midnight). The Arlathan Forest has turned into a place of chaotic magic, where space and time mix and mingle in strange ways. The Veil Jumpers help Varric and Harding get to the temple where the crucious stone is said to be located. Within the temple though, they only find a note left by Solas asking them to stop interfering with his plans – Solas now has the stone. Varric and Harding next travel with Minrathous to meet private investigator, Neve Gallus (from the Tevinter Nights story, The Streets of Minrathous). Neve says that Solas has been busy in Minrathous, attacking Venatori, stealing their artifacts, and freeing their elven slaves, who in turn are rising up in his name. Neve shares that there is a group called the Shadow Dragons that helps those who have escaped slavery as a lead about the elven rebels. They find an elf that Solas freed, who shares that there’s a meeting of escaped slaves planned that night at the docks, but Varric and Harding piece together that the Venatori know about the meeting and will attack. They decide to give up chasing Solas in order to help the elves. Varric realizes that there’s no way they will catch Solas at this point, because he knows them too well – so he says they need new help.

Short Stories

Minrathous Shadows (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

A templar named Tarquin plays a card game with a magister, and confronts her on being a Venatori cultist. It’s revealed that Tarquin and the deal are part of a group called “the Viper”?

Ruins of Reality (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Strife and Irelin (from Tevinter Nights) are lost in the Arlathan Forest, as the forest has come alive with magic, changing and shifting to the point where Strife’s map is no longer reliable, nor is the passage of time. Strife carries an ancestral journal from the Morlyn that began rewriting itself. They find copies of themselves—Irelin says either a mirage or an echo—running around. Irelin turns into a bird to snatch a crystal halla figurine off a statue they find, and the spell ends for a time.

The Wake (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Viago de Riva, Illario Dellamorte, and Teia Cantori (from Tevinter Nights) all attend an Antivan Crow funeral, implied to be Lucanis’s from Illario’s drunken story-telling about the two as children and him saying “I was always right behind him, you know? Now there’s nobody for me to follow.”

Won't Know When (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Evka Ivo and Antoine (from Tevinter Nights) fight off a darkspawn horde so a group of miners can escape. They ponder the dangerous nature of being Grey Wardens, before Antoine asks Evka to marry him, and Evka says yes.

As We Fly (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Neri de Acutis and his sister Noa are old Antivan Crows fighting the Qunari occupation of Treviso.

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Like these kinds of meta pieces? Please consider supporting me on Patreon, where you could have viewed it a few weeks earlier!

#dragon age #da lore #meta

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thewriterg · 1 year ago

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𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

pairing(s); luke danes x fem!reader

summary; to prevent you from loosing a leg Luke helps you with your Halloween decorations to save your limbs and his nerves —flufftober day; 10—

word count; 580+

warning(s); reader giving Luke grays, fluff, pet names, and language

playlist; baby I’m yours by cass elliot

A/n:—GIFs; @slayerbuffy & @clwnstim— can’t say I’m too sad to see flufftober go because I suck at fluff

“What the hell” Luke muttered rolling into your driveway with the turn of his steering wheel the tail of his truck following behind him as he squinted at the sight of you on the top of your roof artificial spider webs hanging from the pillars of your porch small plastic spiders peaking through the white web

The brunette didn’t rush out of the car until he began to watch your unsafe attempt of getting down from the top of your home aka with out a latter

“Hey! You’re killing me smalls!” You smiled down at him having got back to the surface of the roof of your home at the sound of his scolding voice that held no room for argument

“If i was waiting for my knight in shining armor to come rescue me then i declared i am no damsel in distress i shall save myself” You mocked in a posh gilded voice while Luke rolled his eyes in in response seeming over your act

“If you don’t come down right now I’m leaving you to the hocks” You gasped at the statement a hand over your heart and the brunette practically over the whole situation at hand

“You would never” You sat down your legs dangling over the ledge of the roof your arms crossed and a small mock pout on your face if you searched up ‘4 year old in time out’ Luke was sure your picture would pop up front and center

“Listen here you, if I have to come up there” You giggled at the stern finger that was pointed towards you garnished with stern ice blue eyes you hummed in response twirling a loose thread on your sweater your eyes tilted towards the sky ‘contemplating’ your decision

“God woman are you crazy!?” The brunette hissed as you slid from the roof barely able to catch you in time your frame secure against his flannel covered chest sitting you down on the ground giving you a few extra seconds to make sure you were settled

“Oh please dear lord, will you be ever so kind to help me hang the decor around the the castle” You spoke while Luke’s eyebrows furrowed at the borderline terrible accent shaking his head in disbelief or disgust you couldn’t quite tell

“Get in the house and bring me the boxes” the brunette grumbled and you giddily skipped your way up the porch into you home searching for Halloween decorations

💌💌💌💌

“Boo!” You screamed causing Luke to flinch his body jittering as you snickered at the shivering of his shoulders just having finished pinning the last 3D bats over your door frame

“Jesus Christ! You are insane you hear me!? Lala loopy” He hissed speaking with his hands to emphasis his point as you smirked before putting up grabby hands at the blue eyed pale man while he backed away declining the offer with a passion

“My big helper you have saved the kingdom from a unfulfilling castle and your reward is a lay of my lips” You made a high pitched smooch sound from your lips before placing it on his cheek the stubble tickling yours in return

“You’re gonna be the death of me woman” Luke uttered as you turned your back towards him pressed against his front half before he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as the wind currents picked up around you both

Luke could argue about the best time of the year

#🦇𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑;𝐆 #luke danes #luke danes x reader #gilmore girls #gilmore girls x reader #fem!reader #spooktober #flufftober #angstober #kinktober #romance #fluff #i love you #thewriterg #2023

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astralnymphh · 8 months ago

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before the flora.

knight!ellie x princess!reader teaser. beginning is essentially just lore. bonus excerpt with ellie and princess interaction below the sketch. wrote the intro in january. no warnings tbh. illustration by @trackinglessons :P READ THIS . PALESTINE MASTERPOST

When the universe was born, there was only fire; a slowly waning blaze. And so hence when death begins to unfurl its low, groaning bloom— there will only be ice.

Yet the heavens and earth are nay alike, as death— and life, are interwoven by the timeless nuptial that is humans, and Mother Nature. Cordial and tepid heartbeats meet with her frigid and frightening marrow this season. Flakes are falling, a howl swells in the wind, and hearths stay an undying tongue of flame in the province of Istenad. Isle of riches and hedonism gone rampant amongst those who proved meritful of a conversation spat over gilded chalices. Or those who wiped a famished tongue stroke over the sole of His Majesty— The King's tan leather boots in entreat, declaring the hide a tenfold more gullet–watering than their stale, daily spare of bread. Where high life reins, low life is there to scrub their steeds.

The wintry pearlescent tundra fringing around uncharted woodlands hums your name— it carries by gale, an airy reed of vowels pulled through your ears.

Tut, tut, tut, the pecking of bark.

Everything seems to resound much heavier over the windows thick limestone sill. Woodwinds, the sough of pine boughs— a chorus wafted. Woodpeckers, they beat rigid timber with their sonnets of calling. The echoed tut starts to sound awfully kindred to a beckoning call of your name. And at daybreak, when the tangerine sun dips its head under the coast, you feel a magnetic lull to traverse your truest passions and slip away into the night, arctic chilled steel in hand. The quantity of hay sticking beneath your shoes collected by skittering across the night–doused thoroughfare was well enough to concern your maids on duty to dress you, brows fuddled at the streaming of straw near your door come morning.

Loop of your knuckles, bend of your wrist, a hand flexed on the hilt of a meticulously poached sword. A swing 'round your waist, a cold hale grip the air could taste, fighting off many mythic brutes of moonlight, however only conceived where dreams are airtight. The mind, it plays. The play it perceives, a viewing spread like tawny butter. Ghouls and ghastlies encircle a quaint pond, chanting away in cryptic grumbles and beastly bumbles, enraged with their slobber frothing at the fangs you tore from their sockets— deeper than artless, juxtaposed to the blinding ruby reds and dyed paper sunflowers of the theater. Your mind’s play felt real.

Unfortunate to your heart, dreams will stay dreams.

Nary a princess was meant to tune into melee, especially at your courting age. Nevertheless, your psyche has spurned from what a maiden is expected of and is completely in a haven of your own structure, your signature sanctuary.

In the farmsteads, a forthcoming soldier harvests not just crop— but dexterity. Derived and nurtured in the faraway prairie village of Dunwich, where the fertile seasons prove flaxen of corn and the trickling sweat of every farmhand turns to gold. Any newborn granted to this quaint village is fated to form calloused hands with labor written in their palm lines as time unfolds. In their— well, her— adolescent years, the yearning for practices of gallantry in knighthood swiveled her sights to the colossal stone castle way.. way far away. Sprouting beyond the earth line, far as the eye can see.

So, she learned, she trained, she slept, partaking in a ranged cycle taught by her ruthlessly departed father: Sir Joel. Reprisal became her nemesis; never able to rend the barrier of hesitation and cleanse her shut eyes of revolting imagery. The horseman of death was not omitting the trauma of this hazel-haired soldier. A weight so burdensome, her speckled skin remembers the tales of every scar clawed into it. Like how the lips of a bard cling to an everlasting ballad.

Every knight knew well to exile any lingering ties to the past. It's been years since he passed, she understands that. Though, the heart never lies, and certainly never covets forgetting.

Ambitions stemming from legions of knights in waiting have fallen short, submerging within the moat of the castle and sinking deep into the catacombs with no elegy sung. An allegory for dreams long since vanished. A domain so valued longs for those biding life with rigid bones, such as she. Tempered by the hardships, endured like metal meeting the blacksmith's chisel.

A vividness to her movements, flowing like a river. For it is water that soothes the most cosmic fires, carves veins into the earth's soil, descends from the heavens above and proves iron soluble. A knight so pinpoint and poised like a painter, yet so daring and baneful like a warrior of evenfall. An artisan of her craft, this knight-to-be is. Born to thrive in matters regarding protection of their kingdom and its nobility. By the sheer tenacity of her skill, she will excel. From the self–instructed lessons in a verdant pasture, basked by undying light in her hometown— to the ordained priming within the royal court.

They were forged to be dutiful.

You are a daughter of the illustrious King, Sagard, and swan–grace queen, Sagard— maiden name Adela, and sister of your highly revered and cherished kin, Prudence. Subsequent to her fabled rise, was your fall. A pratfall you plainly turned a serene ear from, for you foresaw its coming. Clandestine adventures and lollygagging in the marketplace earned you right in the clasp of consequences. You knew that, knowing it kept you on the balls of your toes before you'd be caught suiting into an act more repugnant— be it, no.. befogging yourself in a peasant boys' dire–in–muck rags, merely to play "boy" games as a young one?

Sacrilege!

Prudence was there, at every occasion, scolding with her youthful finger at the palace fore, sucking her fingertip wet of spit and dragging a stroke over your soot–strewn cheek, just before scuttling the halls in search of father, cawing, “Father, Father! My sisters become a boy again!” until it rang his fucking ears to a pulse. Hmph, father even countered his own remark of squawk, pouring through the walls, “Hah! The second son I wish I reared! Tell me, what peasants skin does she clad: butcher's boy, or of the farmer?”

Rebuking the role of royalty isn't your entire bastion of vengeance. You purely long for a world of your own color. Your self-brewn arcadia of art. In a concise phrase, desire for sovereignty. And your family chastised you curtly for every scant display of free will, short of the Queen, she is fair.

Daughter of the King, Princess of the thicket. You retain your fortunes. Modestly.

“Why don't you resemble your sister more?”

A ruby crested box designed by the best of goldsmiths is lodged at the margin of your beds footboard, safekeeping of your esteemed regalia. You possess a bedazzled amassing of circlets, veils, brocade and velvet tunics of long lengths within this box. But do any of them revel in the blessing of being worn on regal skin? Never. You opted for garbs of less gilding and jewels, so that you might taint it with whatever adventures mold under the ribbing of your foot. That shit offended your skin with its indelicacy of forgetting a human will don its fabric golds and woven jewels.

Even— court gatherings. You don the likeness of simplicity and temperate elegance. This morning's virginal aurora, a broach of light swoll from the windows arch, to the footing of your bed, made the wake of your eyes begin upon a lighting behind sheer skin. Your box of regalia shone in that incandescence momentarily. It danced, fleeter than you, irkingly so. You had to squint whilst flipping the clasps and hauling the heavy lid slanted against your bed, or else you may be heaven–blinded. “Every inch of Princess,” you intoned in quietude at the sight of glamored fabrics, “—whom I shant mirror.” and reached for the homelier fabrics, scratch of cobalt-blue linen delight brushing under your prints, you grasped your reserve tight.

“I was not made aware that there is a village wedding to be, dear sister— from what river does this dress of rags hail from?”

“It is not a brides dress, nor rags, leave me Prud—”

Prudence had blocked the shut of your chamber door with her hand flattened, pursuing, “You glum your gems. Rotting in that chest, tasting no light, no glory.”

You kept your lips thickly sown shut, casting dimly eyes to the ground.

“Shall I send for the steward so he may sell—”

“No need.”

“Hmm, most stubborn, are we? Then I—”

“I am least stubborn,” you wedged your fingers beneath her palm, prying the door loose, “—it is you, who strays your own counsel, unmoving as a mountain.” ending with the trudging shut of your door, ceasing in silence.

[++ bonus excerpt from act 2, scene 1]

“Uh–huh..” she draws out. Legato; a sarcastic reply, and wipes her tongue through the press of her lips together, “This far out? You must rebel quite often to have made a friend, I bet?” she tilts her head, a bit playful.

“You bet well— a lot, I assume?”

Cannily, she winks, “Indeed I do.” and aligns her face onward. Gesturing to her horse's rump a second— third? Eh, whatever time— she jerks her brow with a head cock back, “Hop on, I'll take you there.”

Both brows fall, and you flinch bemused, “Wh– uh,” as you hem and haw for words, grating a stutter, “But not a moment ago you spoke of the roads recent perils—”

“Surely it's not far?” she spoke presumptuously, “I mean, you've come this far, My Lady. Nobody would travel the woods past sunset, besides you it seems.” now a matter–of–fact vocal barricade that shoves itself into your ears and winds the cogs to think cleverly.

You shan't know my transgressions, sweet Knight. You may talk.

Trust is sparse as a puddle marched in.

“‘Tis but a mile out. Bravo on your convincing, Williams.” you wry and scoff.

“Can't fumble that name, huh?”

“I would not want to dishonor your knighthood.”

“You honor me with your coincidental presence, Princess.”

“Honor in your mind.”

"Hmph," her breathy chuckle, a sweetness you luckily caught with ears even numbed by the snowsquall. Do not blush. Do not smile. Fuck. Guess you'll be visiting Malina after all, the gale of a displeased sigh icing your lips over as you approach that dangling stirrup.

#౨ৎ. born of flora and fauna #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie x reader #knight!ellie #knight!ellie x princess!reader #tlou ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams concept

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chaewberry · 24 days ago

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the art of touching

diluc ragnvindr x reader word count; 6.8k tags; friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, blood and injury, reconciliation, when your love language is being annoying asf. epilogue; chapter one; part one, part two

READ ON AO3!

You continued to walk through the city; you, trying to steer the Captain off course one step at a time, having the most fun when he’d realise he’d been guiding you wrong the whole time and gently steering you back toward the path that led to the gates. Every so often you’d stop to pet a cat, bending down to the feline despite Diluc’s half hearted warning about staining your dress before he himself kneeled down to deliver the petulant animal a scratch under the chin. Then, you were on your way again, stepping carefully not to slip into ice slicked stones.

You asked him your questions about the questionable material you’ve been reading - “how dangerous can a simple glance be, or a kiss?” - and after he laughed at the state of the book itself, declaring you to be the most awful of readers he had met with the most love for books regardless, he answered you as honestly as he could. On the matter of touch Diluc was indeed forthcoming, explaining in muted detail what harm a touch can cause, as if he were an expert on such things. The insinuation that he was not vexed at him, which made you laugh again and again, despite the shimmering in his eyes.

“But,” you said, “you don’t always think of the meaning of your actions - sometimes you just do things without thinking too much about them, or the consequences.”

“I suppose,” Diluc conceded. “But whether my intentions behind such actions are misinterpreted are not entirely my fault.”

“Kindness without honesty can be manipulative.”

“Doesn’t it depend on the person my kindness is intended for?”

You conceded, “I suppose.”

People would occasionally stop and greet the young Captain, old ladies cooing and fingers twitching towards his cheeks before remembering themselves — this was no longer the small spitfire child that would ran through the streets with a sword too big for his small hands, but a man grown with a post too insurmountable to measure by the weight of his claymore.

A few particular inquiries slipped in, the nature of which made Diluc’s cheeks blaze as he vehemently shook his head. His arm, wounded around yours - he was escorting you, nothing else - would tense up, tighten around yours, most likely unwittingly. A few of the old cronies even fussed around you. One tightened up your winter coat around you, tying up a few buttons you had, due to laziness, left open, chiding you as she did so. “Young ladies like you are prone to colds!” You agreed with her, despite the fact that you hadn’t fallen ill once in the last three years. As she rounded up on Dilic and started fussing about the state of disarray his clothes were in (“why does it matter if you were training? Shame on you!”), you wondered how different your walk around town would be perceived if you weren’t currently hanging on the Darling’s arm.

Soon enough however you took pity on the Captain and his now rosy pinched cheeks and attempted to make your daring escape, swiftly making up an excuse to pardon your retreat. Tagging at Diluc’s sleeves, you guided him away from an unthinkable fate. Any teasing remarks about the hubbub of old cronies cooing over Diluc’s cheeks wouldn’t be nearly enough to convey the sheer hilarity of the situation, so you simply stayed silent and filed the images away for later use. Promising blackmail material and whatnot. You’d have a good laugh over it with Kaeya later on too, to be sure.

“Then, what about a glance?”

Diluc hummed. “I can see how it can be dangerous.” He grabbed the book from where it was nestled at your side, flipping through the pages for a moment and reading some passages sporadically. “This is a predetermined story - you don’t have to ask yourself if the emotional glance of the knight towards the main lead in the story is hateful or endearing. It’s clear.”

“How so?” you asked, the gripping urge to hear his thoughts on the abysmal reading material too delectable to let go. You’ve read that book a handful of times already, from start to finish, from cover to cover, you had creased the pages where something had caught your interest and kept them that way until that interest was resolved, the meaning behind a word or action found, and then straightened out the dogged page out.

There were no fresh interpretations you could hear from the Captain, nothing too scandalising that would have you clutching at your pearls in astonishment — but the more he talked, the more surprise you derived from the knowledge Diluc seemed to have for such tasteless literature. He thought of him staying up to read such drivel brought a smile to your lips. You wondered, not for the first or last time, how much of his personality was buried beneath the heavy coat of duty and honour; two characteristic traits that in others played a mute role, but to the young Captain were his idiosyncrasies.

These aimless conjectures that were building up within your mind came to a sharp finale when the sour smell of Sumerian tabasco mingled with the sharp winter snow and soon, something far worse than gossiping old ladies stopped in front of your path.

The elder Master Ragnvindr was a cutting figure amongst the commoners of the city, with his towering form, shocking red hair and eyes that held too much familiarity for you to be truly lax under their gaze — a shrewd man, for he had to be in order to have come so far after making an enemy of all the old families in Mondstadt. A lesser man would have crumbled a long time ago (you were not un familiar with the underhanded techniques used to undermine and overthrow, to humiliate and offer faux paus sympathy in the faces mirroring despair), and yet here stood this man on his own two feet, gravitated by his own power and through means entire his own.

Even your mother, a woman in a class of her own, tiptoed around Crepus Ragnvindr, a witting contrast to your father, who often met the man head on when it came to tampering with his business.

Diluc paused. “Father.”

The arm curled around your elbow tightened for a moment before letting go completely. You left your arma dangling by your side for a mere moment before clasping them together. Your gloves did almost nothing to prevent the coldness that now seeped within the seams of the fine garments and, the further Diluc stepped from you, the colder the air around you seemed to get. The vision hangs from his hip like a talisman. The falling snowflakes evaporated into nothingness around it.

It must be nice to always be this warm.

“Diluc, Miss Wolfram,” Master Crepus greeted, bowing slightly as he addressed you. “I hope I am not intruding.”

“Not at all,” you said, beating Diluc to it and watching with mild disinterest as the boy clamped his mouth shut. “This kind knight was simply escorting me to the gates - my coachman is waiting for me, ready to deliver me home at once.”

“It is getting rather late,” the man nodded, smiling, “But I am glad to see that you’ve been faring well, Miss Wolfram, and of course, the fact that you get along with Diluc pleases me as well.”

“Father!” Diluc all but yelped, looking ready to stomp his foot in the snow and deny the seemingly baseless accusations the older man threw at you two. “It is not like that.”

When your father, the heir to a world renowned family of merchants that stemmed back to the Mondstandt of old, had agreed to transport Crepus’ wines to all four corners of the world, had dealt such a nasty hand to the man in front of you you wondered how it was that their business transactions went on for three more years. Finally, though, it seemed Master Crepus patience was all but wrinkled out, for in a manner of days he terminated the contract and pulled all business dealings away from your father’s company, opting instead to pour his wine locally and share it now with the rest of the world through a Sumerian transporting goods company.

Of course, you were not without shame.

Even though Master Crepus had always been nothing but amiable; welcoming you into his house whenever you decided to venture into it with nothing but a smile and pleasant words, making sure you lacked nothing during your stay, no food, no water, sweet delicacies served by maids in masterfully crafted ceramic plates and the freedom to venture into the Master’s personal library inside his office where the smell of ink, the yellowing pages of hard covered books and the kindled wonder of what said pages contained brought you back to the still waters of the lake, the soft grass underneath your palms, a false sense of anonymity.

Of course, you’d rarely venture into that part of the house, not unless one or two brothers were with you; an admission which mortified you, however slightly, because when did you ever know shame? When have you ever known to display it — how could you not?

There were fine lines that shouldn’t be overstepped. That was all.

You had no doubt that hidden beneath the heavily veiled layers of hospitality and freely given privileges, the elder Ragnvindr was by no means thrilled to house you and feed for those few hours which you made your presence in his household known.

A kind man indeed, though no less shrewd. Surely.

Resisting the urge to shove a clump of snow down his throat you turned to the flustered first son, blinking innocently at him. “Are we not getting along then, Captain? It seems I have overstepped.” You made sure to take a full step back from Diluc now, covering your face with your fan. “How embarrassing - I will make sure to keep my distance from now on.”

Teasing him was fun — watching him going through the five stages of grief as you twisted his words into something foul and threw them right back at his face was ecstatic. There was something to be said about such corrupted notions.

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

“Woe is me!”

It was the oldest trick in the book in the line of nobility; using offsprings, the promise of companionship and friendship to weasel out secrets. Secrets which would be then used to deal a heavy blow to one’s enemy, crippling and despairing if one was much too fond of money and reputation. It was something your mother had always drilled into you and your brother both — and also why your friendship with the outcast nobility both infuriated her while simultaneously pleased her. Your father, on the other hand, would rather lay down on the gardens and lick the dirt off of every stone and pebble before he willingly invited Diluc or Kaeya into his home, bending such a strict rule only on special occasions, such as birthday parties, where he stood plastered to the wall, becoming one with the paint while he hawked on.

It would have made for an excellent anecdote if not for the mortification dwelling deep within your bones. It was clear that neither boy had ever felt welcomed into your family’s manor, which in turn made you all the more unwilling to step foot into Dawn’s Winery and all the more willing to invite them over as much as you liked and could. Their discomfort, though feeding your own, was sometimes the best amusement you could derive from this dreadful back and forth.

Diluc, in particular, was so transparent at times that you couldn’t help but want to take a stab at the heart he had taken to adorning in his sleeve. Sometimes you wanted to squeeze his neck between your hands and watch him squirm. Sometimes you just wanted to see him squirm regardless of whether you were the cause or not. It must be all the rage boiling beneath your skin. Diluc had so much — so much to give, so much to be taken away. The Darling of the city, the Young Captain, the Master-to-be.

Woe is me.

You cleared your throat, intricately, like a lady should, and hid beneath it the laugh that threatened to burst from behind your teeth.

(Kaeya had once said, inexplicably, “there’s no hiding what you are, Wolfram.”)

“Do I have to say that we get along three times for you to believe me?” Diluc asked, eyes glued to yours. His sudden sombre expression and crossed arms made you want to win this spat even more, made you want to stop before you put your foot where your mouth was, hear something you didn’t care to hear.

“No. That would be a weird way to phrase it,” you smiled, lowering the fan. “Say you like me three times and then I’ll believe you.”

Of course — who would you be if not a constant construct even to your own self, your own hands picking at a stubborn scan and licking the fresh blood that poured out? It was an undilated moment of catharsis to look at the reflection in the mirror and recognize at least the worst aspects of what made you you .

Crepus was apparently content in waiting out your antiques, only looking mildly amused if one took regard to the slight upturn of his lips. If he had caught on to whatever game you were playing with his son or with him, he didn’t say.

“I will not be doing that. It’s highly inappropriate.” Diluc couldn’t even bother to seem mirthful by the idea, nor flustered or bothered. You would have taken any reaction but the lithe one that seemed to take over his face at the moment, betraying nothing.

“So you see,” you turned to Crepus, no longer feeling cold, “we do not get along, please cease feeling pleased.”

Diluc was such a filial son. The pragmatic ideology you harboured had been proven thus indeed to be true. You would have taken one softly muttered, hardly uttered, measuredly whispered I like you than three blunted and crude ones. Yet the knight couldn’t even give you that in front of a father he diligently admired. The taste of betrayal would most likely sear his tongue off.

The thoroughly mirthful Crepus in front of you had you grinding your teeth. Banking on your misery, surely he knew how much the fact aggravated you. You would abhor every word that’d come out of his mouth.

“I must apologise on behalf of my son, Lady Wolfram,” the man said, turning the world on its axis. “He is still young and a stranger to notions such as charm, as chivalrous as he may appear to be.”

Diluc sputtered at your side, positively fuming now, steam rising from beneath the soles of his shoes, the snow that had landed on top of his red crown melting.

Unsettled, having lost track of your position in the conversation, you floundered for what to say — something ambiguous, surely, for it wouldn’t do to entirely agree with him or flat down reject his statement regarding the buffoonery display his son had insulted you with.

“I find his foolishness quite charming.”

There; a statement that was possibly lacking any resemblance of seriousness and could be seen as mocking, or perhaps it could be you, one of Diluc’s unknown element that had shoved itself into his life when Kaeya had brought you into the grape fields to catch butterflies and whatnot, simply uttering a teasing remark splattered with a modicum of fondness.

Whatever the case, Diluc took the teasing from both you and his father lightheartedly, even laughing alongside one Crepus’ following remarks despite it. A gentle, tender and modest boy who wanted his ambitions and title to overshadow the last remnants of childhood and shed the last traces of baby fat sitting on his face.

Diluc was genuine in everything he did, putting his entire self and body in his endeavours.

You laughed at something he said, talking animatedly with his father, and hid the sour expression threatening to overtake your face behind a smile.

More pointless chatter followed until your coachman stumbled through the gates, pale and almost out of breath from fright. His condition only worsened when he laid eyes upon the head of the Ragnvindr family and you almost lost the man to a stray rock laying on the road. You watched him trip over it, stumbling not unlike a fool before righting himself once again. He bowed with respect to the men by your side before settling to you with an imploring, almost pleading gaze.

“My lady, it is getting rather late,” he said, “your Lady Mother will be waiting for you.”

Crepus stepped forward. “It was thoughtless of us to have occupied the young lady’s time as much as we did. I must implore you, however, to wait a mere moment more.” He turned around and signaled with his hand. A man you hadn’t seen before standing behind Crepus came forward. Bowing at the waist, he held up a considerably expensive looking bottle of wine.

Crepus, thanking the man, turned to you. He was smiling still, and you could only surmise that you had been caught in some peculiar way. You withered as the last few seconds of a sweet yet short lived victory vanished in front of your eyes.

The man could have opened his mouth and said that he was buying out your father’s business and leaving your family utterly and despicably destitute — truly, he could’ve said anything, and you would still be less bewildered.

“For your birthday next month. An early gift, if I am allowed.”

The bottle in his hands seemed to you not unlike the forbidden fruit. Still, you accepted it with grace, careful not to fumble. “I - thank you, my Lord. I was not aware…,” you paused, hands tightening around the cool neck of the bottle. In truth, you were wholly unprepared for the reality of someone like Crepus remembering your birthday, much less caring enough to go through the trouble of procuring a gift for you.

No longer after he and your father parted in anger, common invitations for events such as these had stopped, even though you had meticulously tried to keep the tradition going with Kaeya and, consequently, Diluc, every invitation you’d sent would go unanswered.

A laugh pushed itself out of your mouth — yes, in truth you had to congratulate the man for delivering such a devastated defeat. The man took the winds right out of your sails. Barbados himself would be displeased.

“I must thank you, Master Crepus, and even more so since you saw fit to give me such an expensive gift.”

Diluc shuffled next to you but you couldn’t deign yourself to look up at him now.

You could only hope he remained as is for the rest of his life, despite the fact that he admired his father so and dogged his every footstep and hogged his every shadow. Diluc just as he was now - ignorant yet strong and brave, never petty or particularly mad - was truly the best outcome you could wish for at this moment.

“Nonsense,” the beast of a man retorted, waving away your words. “But it would seem that I am late for an appointment. Diluc, would you be so kind as to escort Miss Wolfram and her coachman back to the carriage?”

“Of course, Father,” you heard from your left.

As it were, you could only blink down at the chilled wine on your hands. “Yes, that would be most preferable, thank you.”

You remained silent on your way back to the carriage, afraid that if you opened your mouth filth would spew out. Worse yet, Diluc was silent. He seemed alarmingly content with staring at you and doing a disastrous job of concealing the heat in his gaze.

He must have wished to say something, gazing at you perhaps in order to gain permission, yet you only ever looked in front of you now. You felt thoroughly chided. Worst yet, embarrassment brewed hot within your veins.

The walk from the gates and over the bridge where the family carriage awaited took no more than a minute. Now, with the well meaning gift in hand, your coachman opened the carriage door, silently ushering you inside with a delicate bow.

You glanced back towards the city walls one more time, noting how high they stood indeed with morality etched into the very stone and the falcons flying overhead. With a hand, you tried as best as you could to gather up your silk skirt to mount the carriage, except the step of the damned thing was all too high already — incredulously, the cold bite of the chilled wine was thus removed from your grasp, replaces by numbing warmth as Diluc, no close to you once again, sought fit to assist you.

The urge to slap his hand away was making the skin of your fingers itch — and yet your traitorous knobs of flesh and bones, so cold perhaps that have grown a consciousness of their own, now freely sought out that would make blood flow again. And so, having already taken the offered - offending - peace offering, you used the momentum he granted you to push up into the carriage before one particularly expensive wine was once again pushed into your care.

You only glanced at the boy waiting outside the coach window one last time before the coachman started urging the horses onwards — perhaps there was a semblance of blame on your face, unwittingly as it would have been, for Diluc to look at you the way he did before he disappeared out of sight.

The Wolfram family manor was rather conveniently located away from the city and Springvale village; a plot of land in the wilderness of the small and boundfull nation which your family had bought some thousand years ago, right after the fall of Decabarian and the old city that now laid in ruins, rumoured to be housing one wild beast or another.

Build into the slopes of the mountain near Starnatch Cliff, it was a true labour of petty love and vain pride, higher than any other, overlooking down the thick patches of trees and far away into the city with the beautiful big windmills and the glistening river encircling it — your ancestors must have truly felt as if they stood on top of the world, crowned by the lofty clouds and with the wide open mania that was the ocean down below, their feet steeped into the cold, harsh sand. The sun never shined above that particular shore, and almost always the winds were howling against the rocky mountains surrounding it.

From your room you could see only the sea, stretched out as far as the eye could see, losing sight of where the water started and where the sky ended. An endless barrage of blue, so maddening to the eye if one were to stare at it for longer than five minutes, more than ten, so easy to get lost into the seemingly nothingness it offered, a vast expansion where you could stare at forever and where you throw your everything.

The paper birds sitting by the red painted window were yellowed from the sun and brittle with age, some corners crumbling, some teared off completely, the ink invincible against the folds of their wings — they would take their first and last flight out into the open ocean or they would remain inside the room with you forever.

The house was quiet and dark when you entered save for a low fire in the fireplace which served to keep the house warm throughout the night and a few floor lamps articulately placed into corners.

Elinda, the middle aged head maid who you’d known since you were in diapers, shuffled forward, long black hair braided on her head like a crown. She said nothing as she took your coat to hang, letting instead the soft disapproval marrying her mild features tell you all you needed to know. You would have rolled your eyes - it was not so late that you needed to be scolded, nor were you at fault that the nights had grown longer and the days shorter - but gods knew the woman was dealing with as much as she could without your attitude on top of it.

“It is well before eight.”

“Seven-thirty, in fact, my lady.

“Then it is good that I am not late.”

She begonned you closer, all pursed lips and fluttering hands, fusing over the snowflakes that had decorated your hair, the state of your clothes, the coldness sipping into your fingers. “There has been a quarrel,” Elinda admitted, grabbing you by the wrists and marching you in front of the fireplace. She sat you down on the pillows which had been placed on the floor, on top of the expensive carpet your mother had bought from Sumeru some years ago. “Your good mother and brother - oh, it was dreadful.”

You held your hands close to the fire, feeling the coldness melting from your joints. “You should stop worrying about such matters Elinda, gods know your hair will gleam silver before its time.”

“Do not jest, my lady,” she admonished softly, sitting behind you, fiddling with your hair; unbraiding, unpinning, brushing the soft knots out in a most gentle manner you had no patience for yourself. “It was quite serious. I will not think you a fool in the matter, for surely you must know something.”

“And?”

Her hands faltered for a moment. “And I would implore a show of patience and reverence in the days to follow. If not for your mother then for yourself.”

“Mm. How is mother?”

Elinda’s gentle hands worked through knots. She grabbed the brush she had deposited by her side and, running it through your hair, she replied, “down with a low burning fever. His Lordship brewed some medicine for her and she is now resting.”

The probability of your father abandoning his study to take care of your mother’s health instead of registering the task to a servant was hardly a surprise. The man had always been sensitive to your mother’s needs, more so since her bouts of mass hysteria had doubled the last few years. It was an illness that had long plagued the Lady of the house, even before she married into the Wolfram family.

That part of him, you didn’t know what to make of.

“I am glad it’s nothing serious then,” you answered, pinching at the hem of your dress that was wet with snow.

“I know, my lady. Should I braid your hair for bed?”

“No, leave it,” you said, rising from the feathered pillows in front of the fireplace. “Can you please fetch me some bathing oils?”

Despite Elinda’s protestations and endeavours of sending you off to bed immediately, turning a blind ear to your own objections and complaints about going to bed with a day’s worth of dirt and tiresome weight upon you, in the end she dejectedly went to fetch the oils while you climbed up to your room. Your fingers had warmed now enough to fumble with the laces of your corset nimbly. You threw it somewhere on the floor next to your bed, followed shortly after by your dress which was hanging onto your body like a skirt, and then the old-fashioned undergarments you should’ve burned in the garden at the back of the manor a long time ago. The stockings you placed into the bin with the other unwashed clothes for Elinda to take away.

Whatever jewellery you wore was promptly taken off and laid out on the vanity table. It was the only thing in the entire house that had been imported from Fontain, with a large mirror and impeccable craftsmanship. Everything else was a mix of Mondstadt and Sumeru. Your mother had taken the task of remodelling and re-decorating to an outwardly level, and your father could do nothing but accept her whims and wishes. Despite her misgivings, her taste was impeccable.

You stood in front of the freestanding bathtub, oval in shape and pitch black, waiting for the water to turn scalding hot and fill the tub.

Elinda, none the wiser and too preoccupied with balancing the necessary items needed for your bath in a wooden tray to take stock of your state of undress, only paused to blink before resuming with her work. She set everything up in a small round table you had placed next to the tub. “I brought the lavender oil for your bath tonight; I heard it is good for the nerves, so please do not be afraid to use it.”

Unperturbed, she steered you towards the bath, now filled with steaming water, and all but forced you inside as if you were an unsuspecting victim -- you let her manhandle you to her heart’s content. The rapid warmth that wrapped your senses and flesh untangled your nerves and put a stop to your mind. You sighed, sinking further beneath the calm waters and closed your eyes.

Elinda retreated from the room only to return ten minutes later with a cup of tea in hand. She left it at the table next to the bath and set upon putting the bubbles and the lavender oil on the water, scolding you in a manner that only made you laugh at her. She then assiduously proceeded to scrub whatever skin she could grab on until it was red and raw before taking a hold of your scalp. You would have felt threatened by the tight grip on your hair if it was anyone else. Elinda, as it were, worked you so thoroughly you almost went under, blinking roughly the traces of sleep and water out of your eyes.

You managed to chase her out in the end, but not before promising her you would take utmost care in not drowning.

“How old am I, do you think?”

The old suffering look she threw at you as she left did nothing to curb your laughter.

Despite the hot bath mixed with everything lavender and the chamomile tea you had downed, sleep scarcely touched you again, leaving thereafter to twist and turn on your bed, underneath the covers, as if you were in mourning. The long sleeved, silky nightgown you wore that reached down your ankles further drove you to madness; riding up with every move you made until it rested just below your hips.

Perhaps it was still too early for your body to sleep.

Reasoning with this, you threw the covers off your body and left the bed. Rummaging through the personal items Elinda had picked up and brought to your room before retiring for the night, you finally fished out the accursed book you had read from cover to cover, every word detestable, every description of imagery annoyingly overdone and with a prose too flowery for your liking; in a word, the book was truly something for ancient tastes, and the housewife’s of old no doubt took great pleasure in gathering at each other’s houses in order to dissect the then scandalous passages over tea and biscuits.

You sat down on the divet next to the gargantuan windows, gazing out towards the black sea and the brittle rocks that stood against its rampant and constant lashes.

You flipped through the book again, stopping at random pages to read random paragraphs in order to further instill your hatred for that particular piece of literature. There were so many more pieces such as this, old and new, that you’d never be rid of the genre. The only saving grace you had at your disposal was if the old crony finally moved on from such doomed love affairs and ecstatic erotic adventures and into something more of substance.

Now, awake and irritated, you sprung up from the divet and stalked out of your room, careful not to make too much noise, lest Elinda materialized out of the shadows like a monster out of the abyss, smelling the sleeplessness on you.

As you tip-toed down the stairs, clutching your nightgown above your ankles, you strained out your ears for any sound of activity. If your mother was resting from her fever then your father must surely be at his study, poring over the last documents of tonight's work before retreating to bed at your mother’s side. You surmised that Federick, your brother, must’ve shut himself in his room after his argument with her and has now long escaped through the windows of the manor.

You had caught him enough times to now know that he was as slippery as he was irritating.

The family library was on the second floor of the three story manor — a true testament to your mother’s roots which stemmed deep within Sumeru. Her collections were her pride and joy and an endless endeavor on her part. When you and Frederick were young she would sit you in front of the fireplace your father had built in the vast room an a sea of pillows and blankets and read aloud for hours upon hours; classical myths from nations from far and beyond, historical records about past civilizations that were new laid to rest beneath the raging sea, about ruins, brittle and yet everlasting, basking underneath the sun, of ancient forests and trees that were connected with the very essence of life, of trees whose roots connected every continent together, mythical retellings tinged with more adventure and romance, the noble sacrifices of heroes, waxing poetics of immortal being that still walked around.

Back then, when her healthy mind and body reigned over her illness, she was a person who you sought out frequently. Now, the fireplace always remained cold even in the winter, and scarcely was the enormous table in the middle of the room used.

Except, as it seemed, for today.

You walked through the low lit hallways, your footsteps silenced by the soft and plush carpet underneath your slipped feet. Your mind was half lost in thought when you saw the room to the library half opened, light streaming out of the gap and spilling into the hallway, just a few steps shy of hitting your figure in your nightgown. You made to walk in -- it was not, after all, unlikely for someone to be in the room, owners of the house and servants alike. Knowledge was abundant and everyone was free to pursue it in the Wolfram estate. Even Kaeya, when he felt brave enough to pay a visit, had taken to reading the tomes in the library before enlisting your help to sneak some of them out and returning them a week later. Were you brave enough to do the same in the Ragnvindr manor, you no doubt would uncover many hidden wonders, though as it were, you were only warm enough to the belief of admiring from afar.

The first step was taken, your grip on your nightgown loosened, spirits ready to conduct a warm greeting to whomever was at the other side of the door. You paused once again, however, when you heard the familiar tone of your father’s voice, speaking in a way he did whenever he was aggrieved by something or someone, only mere steps away from unmounting the old family sword from the wall and skewer someone thoroughly through.

And another voice as well, rolling over your straining ears like a current, no less tinged with irritation but lower in tone.

You crept closer, plastering yourself on the wall as if to become one with the paint, hair brushing against your cheek. From the opened crack you could see only the stranger’s back, covered with a black winter coat made out of the finest animal pelt, and an egregious high hat he deemed tasteful enough not to take it off at his entry to the manor and entirely focused on arguing back against your father.

A foolish endeavor; your father never cared enough about anything to be forced to argue back and forth. The man’s fervent attempts, therefore, should be at least commended.

“Enough,” your father said. “I’ve discussed this numerous times. No matter what you tell me, my answer will be the same as it has always been.”

“We have an opportunity now,” the stranger went on, “he can be our prize winning stallion in this dispute.”

“Dispute? Stallion? You have been a fumbling fool at every turn. No prize is worth the risk for what you’re doing.”

“I disagree.”

“Then do so with your reflection. This discussion is done.”

You could have laughed at your father’s dry tone.

The stranger kept quiet for a moment before gathering up the courage to speak again. “There have been some concerning rumors lately regarding an ancient noble family, talks of an alliance through the means of -,”

The unmistakable sound of a palm hitting wood made you jump, jarring you from your frozen state and almost making you lean forwards on the door.

“Insulting me with your baseless conjectures will only serve to drive me further from you and the others. Let me put your mind at ease; such rumors are false when it comes to my family. I neither want nor have a need for such an alliance.”

Even after the magnitude of refusals the man refused to take a step back. You could imagine the wheels inside his head spinning with all sorts of promises and talk delivered with such flowered prose that he could deliver amiably enough to make your father’s stand on the manner upon which they were arguing about take a different and more favourable route.

You, however, with a burning feeling settling itself in your stomach and an itch to pull that hat off that man’s head, decided to do what you did best. Knowing neither shame nor tact, you pushed the door open and called out, “Father.”

Both men turned with various degrees of alarm; your father, who had both hands on the table and was bending over documents and books, did nothing but merely blinked at your ill time's arrival. Your presence didn’t seem to startle him at all — the same couldn’t be said for his companion, who at the same time you spoke up, jumped and clutched his hat atop of his head, fumbling to pull it further down on his face. He whirled around, taking in your state of dress. He struggled, caught between wanting to properly greet the daughter of the man in front of him or taking his roaming eyes away from the satin nightgown that hugged your body.

“Ah, greetings to the young lady of the house.”

Your father interjected, “this young lady should be in bed by now.”

“My apologies for interrupting, father,” you said, eyes still glued to the strange man. “I couldn’t fall asleep so I came down to borrow a book.”

He sighed, sounding more dejected than he should. “Go on and grab a book then, while I walk our guest to the door.”

The smile you gave him could rot away teeth. “As you wish, your Lordship.”

The man, half a step out of the library, turned his head to the left, giving you one last glance, while your father walked ahead. You considered dropping the smile adorning your face, but in the end all you did was clasp your hands behind your back and lock your ankles together as you bed him goodnight in a manner handsome enough befitting your station.

Left alone in the room, you made a considerable attempt to feign propriety and not google at the papers scattered throughout the old oaken table — you stalked forward nonetheless, fingers grazing their edges before sitting down on the chair your father had presumably used. Making sure not to disturb them from their original position, your eyes greedily soaked up the information written on them.

Letters regarding the trading routes with Liyue, a rather concerning letters from a trading company with Inazuma stamps and a stain you could only hope was blood, a miniature map of Mondstadt with old and new routes penned down, marking the dangerous ones with red marks, letters of business between your father and his competitors or friends.

Nothing interesting caught your eye so far, and every passing second your curiosity dwindled down to spluttering ambers.

You got up from the chair and made your way to the shelves. While you searched for a book that would catch your fancy, you mind raved over the possibilities and likely scenarios. In retrospect, the lack of any substantial information in this room was the most realistic outcome. Your father wouldn’t dare to keep anything of import laying around anywhere in the house. Everything he kept close to his chest was more likely to be found underneath the floorboards in his study or locked away in one of the drawers of his desk.

But, living in ignorance was not something you could ever aspire in life — and so, with two new books underneath your arm and a prep in your steps, off you skipped and schemed.

#diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #diluc #the art of touching #pinned #i would appreciate some feedback or constructive criticism! thank you <3

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1800naveen · 5 months ago

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Spoilers?? (Mentions of major character deaths)

Greenies can joke about Rhaenyra's death all they want but it's one of the coolest ways someone can die in a song of ice and fire and as a Targaryen.

If you aren't aware of how Rhaenyra dies, she is cut at her breast which alerts Sunfyre and he (she?) doses Rhaenyra in dragon fire before devouring her.

That is metal as fuck.

That's a dragon rider's death. That's a Targaryen death right there.

"Rhaenyra Targaryen had time to raise her head toward the sky and shriek out one last curse upon her half-brother before Sunfyre’s jaws closed round her, tearing off her arm and shoulder."

SHE WAS BEING BURNED ALIVE BUT SHE CURSED OUT AEGON ONE LAST TIME! SHE DIED NOT A COWARD BUT A QUEEN WITH HER HEAD HELD HIGH. I wonder what she said to him.

And you want to know how Aegon died?

He got poisoned.

"A cold wind was blowing. As the litter set off, the king closed the curtains against the chill. Inside, as always, was a flagon of sweet Arbor red, Aegon’s favorite wine. The king availed himself of a small cup as the litter crossed the yard."

"Ser Gyles and the litter bearers had no notion aught was amiss until they reached the sept, and the curtains did not open. “We are here, Your Grace,” the knight said. No answer came, but only silence. When a second query and a third produced the same, Ser Gyles Belgrave threw back the curtains, and found the king dead upon his cushions."

“There was blood upon his lips,” the knight said. “Elsewise he might have been sleeping.”

Poison is considered to be a woman's weapon. Aegon who usurped his sister's throne because she was a woman, died by a woman's weapon. Gotta love the irony. There are theories that Corlys or Larys poisoned him, what do you think? I think Corlys did it.

"Aegon was a good king!"

"Septon Eustace tells us that a “strange euphoria” took hold of King’s Landing; Mushroom simply says that “half the city was drunk.” The corpse of King Aegon II was consigned to the flames, in the hopes that all the ills and hatreds of his reign might be burned away with his remains. Thousands climbed Aegon’s High Hill to hear Prince Aegon proclaim that peace was at hand."

Mfs was getting turnt the fuck up when they found out that he died. They could finally be at peace after his reign. Yeah, don't say Aegon is a good king when this quote exists.

And Aegon and Sunfyre don't have the most powerful bond. A good example would be Daemon and Caraxes, Dany and her children too.

That answer was no answer, plainly. “Not Silverwing,” His Grace declared. “I will have a new Sunfyre, prouder and fiercer than the last.”

Sunfyre in the afterlife hearing that:

Your dragon died due to the shit you put them through and you want to get a new one? Damn, at least mourn or something. The dragons deserve so much better.

Everyone on team black died cool or interesting ass deaths. Rhaenys taking on two dragons and not even fleeing when she realized that she wouldn't win the battle, Jace and Luke dying alongside their dragons like a Targaryen and being buried in the sea like a Velaryon, Daemon leaping off Caraxes and driving Dark Sister into Aemond's eye; the eye that Luke took out.

Team green?

Otto got beheaded, Aemond looking up at terror when Daemon made him Dark Sister's place holder, Criston Cole getting arrows in him by the winter wolves who declared that no one will sing songs of him and his head was put on a spear, Daeron Tentsbane dying in a tent fire, and Alicent was driven mad after the dance, regretting her choices and hating the color green. Dark sister and Vhagar's skull were retrieved but they left Aemond's skeleton down there. They buried what was left of Rhaenyra but didn't do shit from him.

Helaena will not be mentioned because she didn't deserve any of this, the same for Jaehaerys, Maelor, and Jaehaera.

"Sunfyre ate!" Yes, Sunfyre did eat Rhaenyra. You want a cookie for reminding us?

"Sunfyre, it is said, did not seem at first to take any interest in the offering, until Broome pricked the queen’s breast with his dagger. The smell of blood roused the dragon, who sniffed at Her Grace, then bathed her in a blast of flame."

Sunfyre was nearing death, animals will stop eating when they near death (does it count for a dragon?).

Anyways, remember that Rhaenyra and Daemon's bloodline prevailed and gave us Daenerys, the current Baratheons, the current Martells, Brienne (through Duncan), Jon Snow (not yet to be confirmed in the books). And Aegon's line was brought to an end.

WHEN YOU USURP, YOUR LINE SHALL END! Maegor and Aegon: usurping the throne and having their line ended because of it.

"The choice is his, but he shall have no children. My sister’s line must end.”

Should've specified which sister.

Now enjoy some art of the rightful queen and her king (consort):

🎨: Jotasaraiva! So good, power couple.

🎨: Daewithmon! (Tried to make out the credits below but it's down there)

🎨: Chillyravenart!

@paparinka, give them a follow if you like the art!

DON'T TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY, I LIKE TO YAP🙏🏾

#rhaenyra targeryan #pro rhaenyra targaryen #anti aegon ii targaryen #anti team green #pro team black #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #daemyra

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six-eyed-samurai · 9 months ago

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AGAIN AND AGAIN - A REINCARNATION AU

A/N: Help, what have I done? Sorry if this doesn't fit the characters, I was writing it sleep deprived and as neutral as possible. Support me and my poetry (that I came up with in the shower)

Heavens blessed me with you

The Knight, who when your parents announced you would marry you off to some elderly Lord, kept true to his word and took you away, escaping into the clashing colors of freedom and love in another kingdom far, far away, only for your world to darken into black and white once more when your enraged parents caught up and had him executed; it was now your turn to keep your side of the oath and join him in the afterlife when you drank the poisoned chalice.

In every rebirth

The Roman General who passed by you, lashing out any "potential buyer" when he walked disgusted through the slave market - he bought you freedom and yet somehow you stayed with him forever willingly cuffed by shackles of affection...until he died of an assassination and you were hung for having an "affair" with someone of higher class, but not before you both screamed to whatever god that would listen to come back to each other once more.

I promise I'll find you

The Baker who's never cared a penny about the other air headed girls from his small British village until you, a young noble lady recently moved into the old Baskerville Manor, turned up requesting his help in setting a banquet. Excuses after excuses pile up from both sides in an attempt to extend your brief time together but soon, oh, too soon, you leave as per your family's orders and he's left to wonder how you're doing now, because after years and years of searching they refused to let him in.

Through tears, death, dreams and mirth

The White American who finds you working day in day out at the laundry lady's for little to no pay, so from his not so small tips grew to slipping love letters through the pockets of his clothes, but soon you're fired and bade to leave for your skin colour and he's still bitterly cursing the townspeople for their blind racism.

And I know it's just a gamble

The Hockey player who grins at you who always shows up to his games in every match until he asks you out on an ice skating date, but alas, how could he have known that the day you finally showed up in his jersey, much to his delight, would be the day a crazed fan clubbed you on the head with his own hockey stick, much to your doom? He left the industry as cold as the rink.

Unfair, repeated roll of dice

The F1 Racer who whines about the most ridiculous problems happening to his car and making bad impressions of the other drivers just to see his beloved mechanic even crack a smile - no oil or dirt stained on you could ever dim that brilliant smile when you both went on a joyride together into the sunset...oh, wait, his death on the track did.

But in this temporary, fleeting

The Roommate who knows exactly what you want for breakfast every morning, and soon it spiraled into having a meal together for lunch and dinner too, especially when he added candles and rose petals! You still make your coffee the same way he did even after your studies took you abroad and both of you decided it was for the best to break up.

Moment in fast ending time

The Landlord who did NOT expect such a cute little you to move on when he decided to make a little cash on the side renting out his spare room...never mind, it's still on rent because now you've moved into his room. He managed to save your photo album from the charred remains of your house though...although he couldn't save you.

Tell me, oh tell me

The Drug dealer who just recently entered your big brother's gang, who protected you with his scrawny body every time any sexually frustrated asshole came to harass you. Your declarations of love didn't come in heartfelt words or gifts but a smoked joint with each other. You both didn't get delusional, because why should you when your fantasies were right in front? It was the same when you overdosed after someone ratted him out and sent him to a life sentence in prison.

Darling love of mine

The Mafioso who charms you with his suave words and cool under fire attitude, causing you to giggle and kick your feet whenever he came back to your door with flirtations and blood on his face from those who disrespected the mob boss's goddaughter. It was the classic romantic Italian dinner when he got down one one knee...except for the part when his rivals arrived to gun him down and you're left staring at his broken body and shattered ring.

You're just as lost

The Neighbour who had no idea the babysitter for the kids next door would be so goddamned FINE - if only he hadn't fumbled and stumbled over his words in the elevator! But that's alright, even little Ray and Katie are rooting for him and you! Your first date might not be fancy, but he was more starstruck in awe of you than he was of the night sky as you sat on top of the roof.

In paradise

"I feel like I've know you all my life."

"In every lifetime?"

"Maybe!"

And somewhere deep inside, you both knew it for certain: the endless cycles of pain were finally broken.

"I'm so glad of whatever karma that I did in my previous life got me to meet you!"

"You better continue it in this life so I can see you in the next one!"

Not karma, actually, but a series of broken promises finally repaired.

***

Sukuna, Giyuu, Kokushibo, Gojo, Takemitchy, Mikey, Ranpo, Nikolai, Kirishima, Hawks, Kakashi, Nishinoya, Kuroo, Toji, Kazutora, Nanami, Eren Yeager, Gyutaro, Kunikida, Zuko, Yuta, Inumaki, Levi, your favourites!

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sluttysnowangel666 · 6 months ago

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Chapters 1, 2, & 3 of The Song of Blackwoods and Brackens

Kieran Burton fancast, this story will include violence, crude language, smut eventually, angst

This story is written BY ME and I do not consent or give permission to it being posted or translated anywhere else. thank you for supporting your writers <3

if you enjoy this story, submit questions or requests for one shots and imagines ❤️also taking cregan stark requests as well

Chapter Master List

Summary: A unique, fictional short story set in the "A Song of Ice & Fire/House of the Dragon" universe.

The Battle of the Burning Mill was one of legend. A bloody and brutal fight between two great houses at the start of the Dance of Dragons. There were those who supported the rightful Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, and those who supported the Usurper Aegon Targaryen.

This account retells the days leading up to the battle, and the tension between the son of Samwell Blackwood and the "nephew" of Amos Bracken. These two fighters hold a secret known to no one that changes both of their lives and the future of their houses.

*this story is NOT canon, and might change depending on how the show continues to play with these characters. especially depending on if davos is meant to be bloody ben. this story is a davos/bloody ben x female reader pretending to be a male, nsfw*

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Chapter 1: Preface

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"Uncle, you cannot mean it!"

"I do. You will do this for the future of our house, and that is final. Your father wanted you to marry long ago. It's unnatural a lady of your age is not even betrothed." My uncle Amos declares.

"I understand, uncle. I know my duty. But I beg you, please let the wise lords come to me to ask my hand, Uncle. Do not betroth me to a man I know nothing of!" I cry out.

"You are being ridiculous, young lady. I will hear nothing more of this matter. You know nothing of the wars to come. This alliance between our houses will secure our land and our future. You will marry the Lannister boy and that is final. Now, take your handmaiden and return to your chambers." He says, and I know there is nothing more I can say or do. My uncle was a cold man. He showed no sort of interest in what I, his niece, wished.

"Come, my lady." My handmaiden, Ara, says. She gives my arm a soft tug, and I follow her, trying to catch my uncles eyes before I leave the room. But it is of no use. He has no time for a lady, only time for the wars to come.

That night, I stared at myself in the mirror above my vanity as my handmaiden brushed my long hair.

"Leave me please, Ara." I requested her. She nodded, bowed her head, and left.

I continued to stare at myself in the mirror. I stared and stared until I no longer recognized the lady staring back at me.

Once I finished my staring, I sat with my thoughts. What would this Lannister lord be like? I oft heard of the Lannister beauty and gold. Many of the men were strong knights, the ladies as fair as they come. But would my lord be gentle, forgiving, kind? I fear I could not love a ruthless man. I also fear I do not have a choice.

"For the good of our house"

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"Father, you requested an audience with me?" Benjicot says, bowing to his father as he enters the hall.

"Yes, my son. I have a very important matter to ask of you." Samwell says, he turns and rests his hand on his son's shoulder.

His son, Benjicot, was a man of twenty and two, and was a fearsome knight. Benjicot had trained under the finest knights, fought in the toughest tourneys, and worked tirelessly to prove himself strong.

"I need you to hold the lands by the North Eastern mill. Those bloody Brackens have been allowing their livestock to cross into our territory, and letting their retched cows feast on our grass and crops." Samwell says, "All you have to do is hold the land and kill a few Brackens. I know this is simple, but this task is vital to our house and to supporting the Queen. If we take out these Brackens, the Usurper cunt will take a blow to their armies. I only need you to hold the lands for no more than a week, upon which I will arrive by your side to help slay the Brackens."

"As you wish, father."

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Chapter 2: Lady Bracken

One moon before the Battle of the Burning Mill

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"You must eat something, my lady."

"You cannot make me. I will starve before my retched uncle dares to marry me off to a conniving Lannister." I scold my handmaiden. None of this is any fault of her own, but perhaps death will be a kinder escape than forced into a betrothal.

"Please, my lady. It's been days. You must be starving by now."

"I find it hard to have an appetite knowing I'll soon be carrying a babe in my belly as an heir for House Lannister." I say. My handmaiden sighs and sets down the plate as a knock rings on the solid oak door.

My uncle enters, "You may go." He dismisses my handmaiden coldly. She bows and exits swiftly.

He addresses me.

"I have begun to prepare for your leave to Casterly Rock. Your handmaidens will begin packing your things following my departure tonight to King's Landing to meet with His Grace. Your brother Aeron will be acting lord until my return. You on the other hand, shall prepare to leave within the fortnight. A ceremony is in preparations as we speak." He says, briskly. "And I command you stop this nonsense at once. You are a lady and will do your duty to secure our alliances, which includes eating. You cannot arrive to Casterly Rock looking that of a starving lowborn."

I wait a moment before responding flatly, "I understand, uncle."

He takes this response as a success and leaves my bed chambers hastily.

My vanity.

I make my way back to my vanity. I stare again, and again. I stare endlessly. I stare until my face turns ghastly. I was becoming a woman obsessed with this bloody mirror.

And then it hits me. How could I have been so absent minded? I am not the future of my house. I have brothers who will create heirs and carry on the bloodline. I am not the future of House Lannister. My uncle cannot and will not make me marry the lord Lannister. Over my dead body.

I make my way over to the my chamber door. I open it and peer out, looking left and right for any signs of handmaidens or servants. When none appear, I walk out. All I have to do is mind my self and surroundings, and then no one will pay any mind to the Lady Bracken.

After making my way across the endless halls of the family castle, I find myself standing in front of my uncles war council chambers. I press my ear to the door to listen, but hear no voices or signs of someone being inside. I make my way in and walk straight for the dagger kept above the mantle. My uncle won't notice, at least until his return.

I return to my bed chambers, quickly rushing to stuff the dagger under my mattress before a handmaiden can question me.

My idea is foolish. Stupid. It won't work. Although, I have nothing to lose. Nothing to lose, but everything to gain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: She’s the Man

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

The moment my uncle's carriage was no longer in sight, I prepared for my plan.

I waited 3 days as to not arouse suspicion.

"Brother!" I called out to my twin brother, Aeron.

"The training yard is no place for a Lady. Return inside. Whatever the matter is can wait." He scolds me.

"A raven has arrived from our uncle. The king has wished the heir of House Bracken to accompany our Lord Uncle to bend the knee and declare for His Grace." I say, holding out a scroll for my brother.

"This makes no sense." He says, snatching the scroll from my hand. "There is no seal. When did this arrive?"

"Just now, brother. It is the King's words and penmanship."

"How am I to trust an unsealed scroll?" He snaps.

"I suppose you could ignore the request. But if you do, His Grace may believe it to be you wish to declare for Rhaenyra." I say.

He contemplates. My foolish brother. "If you leave now, you will meet Uncle along the Kingsroad. You will only be a few days behind. You might chance meet him at Harrenhal."

He sighs, "When are you to leave for Casterly Rock? We simply cannot leave Stone Hedge unattended."

"Uncle simply said within the fortnight. I will send a raven at once to Casterly Rock to inform them of a possible delay of my arrival." I say, "But you must hurry, brother. A war is coming. House Bracken cannot end up on the wrong side. We need the King's trust."

My words, sweet like honey but full of falseness persuade my brother. He makes his preparations, and is gone by the following morning.

I begin my own preparations.

—————

The clarity of my foolish plan set in shortly after my brother left. But it was too late to turn around. My brother had told our servants and knights I would be leading House Bracken until their return.

Maybe I couldn't escape this betrothal. Maybe I couldn't support the rightful Queen. But maybe... just maybe I could make a fool of my House as revenge. My House, my blood, who never showed me any sort of attention. They simply sold me off as a broodmare once l was finally useful to them.

My foolish blood. They will soon come to find out just how useful I can be.

I sit in front of my vanity again, for what will be the last time. I twirl the dagger in my hands, prodding its sharp edge with my dumb. Plenty sharp. Well enough for killing Blackwoods.

I reach my hand up and grab my hair into an even hold. I raise the dagger, and cut it all off in one clean swipe.

I stare at my reflection, setting down the knife so I may run my fingers through the freshly cut blunt ends. I shake the loose hair out of my hands.

"Lord Bracken." I say to myself in the mirror, lowering my voice deeply to sound more of a man. I shake my head. "No, I sound foolish."

"Lord Bracken." I say again, adding a rasp to my voice. "Getting somewhere."

I clear my throat, "I am Lord... Aeron of House Bracken, the heir..."

Gods, I was screwed. I didn't even know my brother's proper title. Was he a knight? I think so... mayhaps?

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"Bloody fuckin' hell." Benjicot snaps in anger, as he stares at the cattle on his land. "I swear to the seven I'm going to murder that Bracken cunt."

"Someone ought to teach that little prick a lesson." His cousin says, spitting at the end of his sentence. "We'll move the stones back for now. When you see him on his guard, show him how a Blackwood takes care of business."

Benjicot nods slightly.

"Oy, did you hear? Turns out they're marrying the Lady Bracken off to some Lannister cunt." His cousin says. "I've heard she's very pretty. Got them soft Bracken genes."

"And what do I care? Probably another cunt like her brother and uncle."

"Never said you did. Just found it funny. They seem to have a thing for letting their cattle roam on other people's land." His cousin insults. Benjicot chuckles at this.

"Poor girl. If there's one thing I hate more than a Bracken, it's a Lannister. Bloody cocksuckers they are." Benjicot says, his cousin agreeing.

"We best get these bloody cattle and stones back where they belong."

#benji blackwood #benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #bloody ben #team black #hotd season 2 #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood #house blackwood

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ser-zoras · 9 months ago

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asoiaf predictions that will probably make people mad

sansa politically marries that guy whatshisface. kills littlefinger in self defense either via moon door or very fancy knife, possibly also poison. declares her husband regent of the vale in littlefinger's absence, and quickly allies herself with daenerys as dany pushes west. they fall in love, the embodiment of ice and fire.

brienne doesn't kill jaime bc honestly where would that leave the rest of us. anyway. they probs talk their way out of fighting lady stoneheart and either jaime dies fighting the others, leaving brienne to hedge knight her way around in his honor, or they disappear into the riverlands, never to be heard from again.

if any of the key five die (again), it's gonna be dany, but not in a mad queen way, but in self-sacrifice against the others after her conquest of westeros, which started with dragonstone. thematically implies that the reason daenys had that vision in the first place was so that the targaryens would continue on and produce dany in order to save the world. somehow the destruction of the iron throne will factor in, having served its distorted purpose in keeping the targaryen line alive long enough to create daenerys. this either kills drogon or sends him off toward the sunset sea.

dragonrider bran. either he or jon will rule westeros, don't know which.

speaking of jon, he's going to Come Back Wrong somehow. I think it'll be a targaryen-related way, but he's gonna eventually come around with his stark heritage. if he doesn't end up king of the seven kingdoms, he'll be king beyond the wall.

i don't know what's going to happen to arya. i think she'll surprise me, but i'm certain she's not gonna be lady of winterfell. i think that contradicts too much of her personal convictions about her purpose in life.

contrary to popular belief, i think there's only a 50/50 chance tyrion's gonna be a dragonrider. he's going to come over with dany but he will either choose to return to essos, searching for tysha or possibly accepting the reality of her death, or he'll stay on in westeros as jon's hand of the king. either way, penny will be a significant deciding factor.

stannis kills davos. not as a murder plot, but it's gonna be like. a whole thing.

missandei is protected and cared for and she writes a history of dany's brief reign as an adult(manifesting) and rickon is undeniably Odd now but he's going to be okay and somehow ends up the most normal brother. absolute tourney knight of a fellow (manifesting).

and last but not least, cersei is not killed by either of her brothers, although i think there's a slim chance she kills jaime, which triggers her death. she will be killed by one of her own plots, probably one related to wildfire, but being cersei, she will internalize it as a death by tyrion's hand.

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blackbutlerfandomnerddomain · 3 months ago

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September 28th - Horse / Basketball

Warning: Suggestive Language in courtesy of Jade being very proud of his boyfriend

Night Raven Collage; A prestigious school for mages and other forms of magical users can go and spend six years to study and practice their craft of magic and all it comes with it. For many years the school stood as a beacon of hope and future for all, a beginning of a new story for every student to grow as a whole.

“You were jealous of a horse.” “I was not jealous of a horse.”

Riddle giggles and sips his drink as he watches Ace and Jamil bicker next to him. It has been a total of two years since he graduated from Night Raven and started his medical program in his university, a good full one year since Ace graduated for a Basketball scholarship and the pair began to live together on a campus owned apartment building, and today was a special day as the couple decided set a group date with their previous club members (or at least the ones they were closets with) and their respected partners at a nice pub.

Currently though small funny stories aroused that led to some humorous debates.

“Ace, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you weren’t jealous of a horse back in school.” Said Jade, his index finger pointed right to his eyes which were now widened in humor as he spoke. Silver, who’s holding a glass of lemonade, looks at the eel in curiosity and giggles with his beautiful aurora eyes, “Are you saying you weren’t jealous of any of the horse's love?” Jade smirks and leans back, wrapping an arm around the knight and kissing his cheek, “Of course I can admit I was. I had to fantasize about your thighs much longer thanks to it—” “EEWWWWW!”

The table laughed as Floyd, face twisted in disgust, gagged out at his twin’s open declaration of his sexual attraction for his partner. "Like you were any better. How many times have our room's "Do Not Disturb" sign was on the knob?" Teased Jade, sipping his iced tea. Floyd's eye brows frown, a finger up and pointing accusingly at the other merfolk, and he rose his voice a bit to speak, "Hey! Me and hark seal have a good reason cause we went to different schools!" Neige beside him giggles and hugs his sweatered arms around him to sooth him, "Darling, relax."

Ace rolls his eyes and huffs, “Okay, maybe I was a jealous a little bit over Vorpal. But that wasn’t because of some weird sex fantasy, I am just an attention lover. But that’s not bad. We rarely got jealous anyways—” “Oh no I was jealous of your club activities.” Ace looked at Riddle surprised. “W-Wait you were??” He fumbled lightly in his words, shocked his boyfriend could say that calmly and sip his beverage without much reaction. Riddle nodded. “Of course,” He started, putting his cup down, “I mean you were being very close to everyone and even sometimes shower with others. I think that’s a good excuse to be jealous.” “Oooooh shit!” Floyd cackles, laughing even more as Ace’s face turns beat red. Jamil, his hair much shorter since his traveling the year prior, spoke up all smug, “You guys can have your obvious jealousy but me and Kalim are fine.” Kalim looked down to his drink, his fingers stirring in the red gradient. “Weeeelllll—” Ace takes his turn to laugh as Jamil’s cole eyes look down at the heir beside him.

As Ace, Jamil, Floyd, Jade, and Sebek discuss who wasn’t jealous or who was more jealous, their partners sip their drinks and discuss on their own. “I understand what you mean though Riddle, you don’t want others to see what is yours.” Said Neige, resting his cheek against his palm’s heel as he stared at Floyd move his hands about as he talked animatedly, a warm glint in his brown eyes. Riddle giggles, “Yeah, that’s right. I mean, I knew Ace would never see anyone else behind my back but he’s beautiful right?” Kalim sighs, “That’s exactly why I was so jealous when people can make Jamil smile with me…” The group was quiet for a second. “. . . Me and Sebek made out in the stables once.” “I fucking knew it!”

Riddle did his hardest to not snort at how Silver’s shout caused everyone else to look at him, his hands covering his mouth as Sebek blushed hard as Silver called him out. Ace chuckles alongside him, leaning against his boyfriend as he finally sips his rose iced tea.

This is my story for @ridoaceweek!!! Next up, we're going to have a fun prompt tomorrow!

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autumnmobile12 · 1 year ago

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Storm Hawks: A Pretty Fun Take on Feminism

I don't know how many people actually remember this show, or even watched it , but this is an episode that's stuck with me all these years so I want to talk about it.

For context, the plot of Storm Hawks itself is pretty basic: Evil empire taking over the world, the good guys try to stop them, shenanigans ensue because kids' show. The main cast members fall into pretty generic archetypes. too. We have:

Aerrow (the 'true blue' leader)

Piper (the smart one/the girl)

Finn (the funny one)

Junko (the buddy)

Stork (the neurotic one)

Radarr (the animal sidekick)

And we're off:

This is Storm Hawks Season 1, Episode Ten: Fire and Ice

There was a lot going on in this episode, including a climate change allegory, but for the purposes of attempting to remain somewhat concise, I'm only going to cover the feminism theme for this post. Episode ten revolves mostly around Piper, opening with the team attending a festival put on by the Blizarrians, a race of snow-dwelling, humanoid, rabbit-dog creatures with Canadian accents and stereotypes in their world. (Which might be offensive, but the show was produced by a Canadian studio, so they can make fun of themselves if they want.)

The Blizzarian team (aptly named the Absolute Zeroes) invite the Storm Hawks to come snowmobiling with them in the backcountry. Piper is enthusiastic about the invitation, being a skilled cartographer, so she wants to map out the terrain...only to be told, "Ladies don't do the backcountry training. You just stay back with the girls."

Aerrow, being a true friend, tells Piper not to listen and she can ride with him, but since she's apparently not welcome by their hosts, Piper doesn't feel inclined to go anymore.

However, when Piper goes to meet up with 'the girls' and hang out, Suzy Lu (pictured above) unexpectedly introduces herself as the Absolute Zeroes' Sky Knight (essentially their captain.) So she's the one in charge, not the men, leaving Piper with the impression, Okay maybe being left out won't be so bad after all.

Later on in the episode, Aerrow does call out the male Zeroes, telling them she is part of their team and she has every right to be there with them. However, the Zeroes meet his words with genuine confusion, with the original member who told Piper to stay behind saying, "But Sky Knights don't do the backcountry training. That's just for us squaddies."

He thought Piper was the leader and therefore didn't need to be there. Similarly, because he was the male, Aerrow thought he was the Zeroes' leader, not Suzy Lu. It's still a sexist assumption to think Piper was in charge because she was a woman, but it's definitely a fresher take than the typical, "No, woman stay home because woman weak."

Going further into the comedy of the situation, though, is the fact the 'training' the Zeroes do in the backcountry pretty much amounts to them messing around on the snowmobiles and pulling off crazy stunts. They're just 'boys being boys.' If somebody wipes out on their ride, everyone else will be concerned up until the moment the fallen team member stands back up and starts cheering to show he's okay. It gives off a vibe that's similar to parents sending their kids outside to play when they're too hyper.

Further proving the point they are a bunch of well-intentioned dorks, it's also shown that Blizzarians don't assume all women are in charge. When Aerrow suggests a solution to the aforementioned climate issue that was also going on in the episode, Suzy Lu declares, "I like your thinking." And then, as an aside to Piper, whispers, "I was wondering why this one was in charge." So upon meeting the group, she definitely had a moment of, Okay, this Aerrow guy is the leader, not Piper. Kinda odd, but humans are weird. Whattya gonna do?

...

Overall, the storytelling of Storm Hawks was a bit shallow, which doesn't often appeal to most adults, and that likely was a contributor as to why it didn't receive much attention outside its target audience. The world itself, Atmos, was an interesting concept; a world interspersed with mountain nations (terras) that rose up out of a hostile wasteland, so travel is achieved primarily by flight. This theme is seen throughout the series in the very culture as many of the characters are named after birds. (Junko (junco,) Stork, Piper (sandpiper,) Starling, Dove, Snipe, Wren, Finn (finch.) In addition to the flight, their machines were powered by these crystals that varied in type, purpose, categorization of how common or rare they were, so there was a scientific/magic element to it.

The writing was episodic in format, though, so the characters don't really have longterm goals and never really had development arcs that spanned much longer than a single episode. The conflict itself was effectively a world war, but unlike a series such as Avatar: The Last Airbender, Storm Hawks never achieved the level of seriousness or emotion that a war story demands to be compelling or really respectful of that particular theme in fiction. The characters of Storm Hawks and ATLA are fun and light-hearted, but the Storm Hawks episodes were really more goofy and child-like adventures. I mean, there is an episode where it is heavily implied the reptilian humanoids are carnivorous and eat people. Okay, fuck, that's hardcore disturbing, but the show doesn't really expand on that because it's a kids' show. Nonetheless, since it's there, you're kinda left with, Okay, either follow through with your darker themes or don't mention them at all. It's a cartoon, find a better balance than that.

There also wasn't much depth to the villains either and their motivations were really just chalked up to the standard, "We're evil." One of them was even former 'good guy' turned traitor ten years prior to the main plot, but his reasons for turning traitor were never explored or even revealed. Come on, people, what happened? Ambition? Greed? He saw the political structure of the side he fought for was fundamentally flawed and decided it was best to tear it all down?

...

However, the detail that I appreciate with this nostalgia series is the fact that there were female characters in positions of power in Storm Hawks. Most of the fighting battalions were mostly made up of men, sure, and I would have liked to see a more balanced male-female cast, but some of the teams were straight up led by a woman and there was at least one group that was exclusively women.

The main antagonist, the reigning monarch of the aggressive nation in the war, was also a woman. (Well, teenage girl, but you get the point.) What's more; she was 100% in charge. She was not influenced in any way by a male advisor, she wasn't spurred on by the memory of a male predecessor, she was never intimidated by her male generals. And she was intelligent. Throughout the series, she was a scientist, an engineer, and a fighter. (Unfortunately, in the last season, her mind started to go a bit, so she pretty much devolved into a knockoff Azula.) We even have the brief insight of her background where it's shown she inherited her throne from her grandmother, not another male ruler. Which either implies primogeniture inheritance regardless of gender or it's a matrilineal monarchy, which is interesting to speculate, but that would be headcanon territory.

...

It was a fun watch when I was a kid, but as an adult...yeah, lots of flaws, a great deal of loss in potential with world-building and storylines, and even as a kid, I knew the plots and humor of later episodes fell into a category that was more stupid than funny.

But if Storm Hawks had one strength, they had the groundwork of the feminism angle down pat and that is always appreciated.

#storm hawks #piper #feminism #episode analysis #episode synopsis #nostalgia series #series analysis #absolute zeroes #cyclonis #female protagonist #female antagonist #sky knight #suzy lu

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