#<- technically I’ve been drawing these all week. but it was going to finish them today…

[magicwhiskers29]

The whole gang! The lines randomly start getting thinner partway through, but whoops. I had each of these on different canvases and didn’t check the others in between :p

[skitskatdacat63]

Happy One Year Anniversary to Boy King AU!!!! 🎉

Okay wait before I start talking, look at these close ups and the process!! Aren't they so beautiful aaaahhhh

Wow, can you believe it’s really been a whole entire year since my very first post about this AU? Well technically I first started talking about the statuette a day earlier, but the very first sketch was exactly a year ago!! Let us not forget the incredibly prophetic tag on that post: “also in the sense of this au i think the only ship that would work(historically accurate wise) is Vettonso.” Who knew that after that my entire life would devolve into vettonso, this specific period of history, and the lovely combo which is Boy King AU. Also wow this means it’s taken me almost a whole entire year to actually draw a joint portrait of them hahaha. I drew this sketch around the beginning of the AU, but never finished it. It’s fine though because this one is a lot better, and I’m in love with it. Took me a year to draw a couple portrait, and took me almost a whole entire month to finish said piece. 

Okay let me explain this piece, which I am very obsessed with!!! I dragged the process out more than I usually would, but I’m glad, because it was so enjoyable. But also look at that fucking crown, no wonder this took almost a month. Usually I’d write like 50 paragraphs detailing the characterization. HOWEVER! I’ve spent over a month writing little bits of characterization, mostly for fun, but also in preparation for this very post. A lot of the earlier ones, I had this drawing in mind, thinking on how I could expand on the ideas I was drawing. Though there’s definitely some things I could still write about. I’ll probably continue to write more Lore a Days, but yeah, they basically amounted to this drawing where you can actually see the characterization I was talking about displayed. Anyways, here are the explanations of bits in the drawing:

First of all, this is some part of the long process of their wedding. Look at the married couple!! Look at their rings!!!

Okay, but why are there two, almost identical looking pieces?? Because look at their hands!! I talked a lot about how Fernando is the one to give out affection more easily, especially in public, where he knows he can easily fluster Seb. He’s acting all grumpy and out of it, I mean to be fair, it’s probably been such a long ceremony across weeks. But he notices Seb is out of it too, just better at keeping his smile (let’s be honest, even if he’s distracted, he’s super smug.) So Fernando catches him off guard by squeezing his hand. Before that, as you can see, Fernando is just resting his hand on Seb’s outstretched palm, like that one scene from Succession. Very: yes I’m getting married, but I’m not happy about it. The combination of Fernando refusing to even touch him more than lightly beforehand but now going full force, them being in public, and Seb already being distracted catches Seb so off guard he has to try to cover his blush with his fan. He thought Fernando was being super impolite, but now he’s the impolite one!! Getting all blushy and giggly over a simple display of affection, perhaps even ha-

So. Their crowns. Seb’s wearing the crown of Austria, because he is in fact only a king still! Also, because I really wanted to try drawing it after I wimped out of it before in this drawing. Fernando’s a king as well by the point, but the fact he’s wearing only a tiara-like hairpiece is to represent how much of an outsider he still is. At this moment, he’s just Seb’s wi- ,I mean husband, to all these guests. Of course this bitch wears a black veil instead of a white one, to signal that he’s mourning the loss of his autonomy and personhood. Don’t worry too much about his mental state though, considering he’s not depressed enough to be able to resist teasing Seb. 

The fan, oh my god. Back in this era, people would gift/make fans for basically any occasion. To symbolize an event, to celebrate something, to show a story, etc etc. I wish I could have drawn something more narrative, but I think the bull vs. horse is good enough. Also you can see those same symbols on the pendants they’re wearing!! I’m so happy when I can fit irl, modern stuff like that into these drawings, it feels so clever!!

It’s so funny, I wrote a lore a day from a prompt about what they’d be like when doing a joint portrait, while I was already almost through painting a dual portrait of my own! So I got to explain some stuff like their clothing colors and poses before I even posted this. I feel very coy about that still honestly. 

Hmmm what else? It feels so weird to not expand on the characterization, considering I already did it for myself weeks in advance. I can’t imagine what it’s like opening this read more, and seeing more than 10 in-text citations. Happy reading!!!

 Happy anniversary to  this wonderful, crazy AU that makes me download 500pg German papers about 18th century etiquette. I drew a couple pieces of fanart before this AU, but I definitely think it jumpstarted my insanity about drawing/making AUs, and literally is what made me insane about Vettonso in the first place. Remember, if I hadn’t learned about Joseph I/Charles VI, most of my blog probably wouldn’t exist in it's current form. Thank you if you’ve stuck around since the beginning, or if you’re even just learning about it now!! It’s so incredibly niche but I’ve had so much fun researching and building this world and these characterizations, and I hope you’ve enjoyed what I’ve made in the process. I hope I can draw/write many more things in the future. I think next, I’m gonna maybe open up requests. I’d like to try to either write ficlets or draw chibi comics about specific Lore a Day posts on request. I think that’d be a lot of fun, but also will probably kill me. We’ll see!! Anyways. PPlease enjoy this absolute labor of love, which is a result of a year’s worth of work.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 80

Yeah that’s fucking right. It’s a Gif.

I fucking learned how to Animate for this Project. This is the first time I’ve ever made a proper functioning animation. Before ANYTHING else. Thankyou to my darling girlfriend @sunmellows who made this possible by giving me a ton of pointers on how to do this.

So anyway, you’re probably wondering “JEM. Why the fuck did you do this-” It was funny.

The answer is that it was funny.

I was thinking of what to do for the 80’s Junkan, how do I go up from a comic, to learning how to paint good, to now. And I was like “Wouldn’t it be funny if I just randomly jumpscared Val with a full gif of Junkan??” because yes my sense of humor has devolved to the point where i find comedy in putting in massive amounts of effort just to see how people react to it. Don’t know where that came from.

Surprisingly this did not take long from what I remember. Around 2 weeks if not less. 

Saying I have zero animation experience prior to this is technically incorrect, however said previous experience barely constitutes as such. But I guess it gave me the absolute bare minimum, and i mean BARE.

The Gif standing before you is the culmination of me having to learn pretty much everything i could all on the fly. There was actually supposed to be more since I wanted it to be a perfect loop, however, I cracked from the exhaustion and just left it after the kiss, and then asked Yves to add a fade out. I was also originally supposed to FINISH the gif. My original plan was to just line and color every frame of the gif until it was completely done one day at a time once the project started. However, and it’s been awhile since I mentioned this, by the time this project was done and ready to post I was so fucking burnt out on it. I would have loved to finish this but my god I don’t have it in me. 

Oh yeah the gif itself. Was it gonna be anything other than a kiss? I mean, c’mon. It’s not like that’s already super hard to draw and almost definitely harder to animate, what reason would I have NOT to make them kiss? Also still happy with the little detail of Junko wiping away Mikan’s tears.

Hardest part to animate was the hair, oh my god the fucking hair. I love drawing it, but animating? Please god never again.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

If you wanted a version without the fade to black at the end, here you go.

[froznwater]

please do not vote if you have not read collateral or simply do not plan to continue reading <33

there will also be a poll on tiktok (so technically you could have 2 votes lmao) when this poll has ended. I am stretching them out so if you miss the first one, the second is still available. TikTok polls also have a max of 24 hours.

The result will be the combined total from both apps.

I will do another poll/take suggestions for what scenes after we decide on which scenario.

Alternative POV scene: I will write the scene from the other characters perspective. (Will not be the whole chapter, but still a decent chunk, at least 2k words)

Extra art scene: I will draw a scene I’ve left behind! As I am attempting to do one scene per chapter only. There’s many scenes people have asked to draw afterward.

I will be finishing Alenoah week, and the next chapter before this is started, but I am going to go ahead and do the polls now to give people some time. And so that we don’t have to go through the whole process later.

ALSO:

Thank you guys so so so much for your support!!! You have been amazinggggg. So many sweet comments and even fanart!!! Ahhhhh!! Thank you for all the asks, questions or comments, I love them all. We got 1k+ kudos with only 3 chapters and I believe we are currently the #3 fic under Alenoah!!! Insane. 💕💕💕

Thank you guys for being patient with the next chapter, as I really wanted to participate in Alenoah week :P

[shadyruinskryptonite]

Titan Bending, Chapter 3

Warning: Violence consistent with cannon, NSFW so MDNI, language, major character death (both consistent with canon of both AOT and ATLA as well as diverging from canon), so much trauma literally everyone is so traumatized, very much slow burn, a little enemies to lovers, SO MUCH ANGST, hurt/comfort, hurt and delayed comfort, AFAB reader

Chapter Warnings: Language, violence and implied violence, Levi being a dick, please let me know if I missed anything

WC: 2600

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Masterlist

I’m given no formal introduction to the soldiers, but Hange does take me around. I’m trying so hard to pay attention to what she’s saying because I think I could be friends with her, but I find myself zoning in and out of the conversation.

“You’ll technically be on Captain Levi’s squad but much like Eren you’ll be running a lot of experiments with me,” Hange says.

“Wait, hold on. I thought we agreed that I was allowed to kind of be my own free agent? What’s this about squads and experiments?”

She waves me off and says, “yes, yes, you have your independence still. But for the sake of our strategy and planning, we have to know roughly where you’ll be located. And as for experiments,” I swear I see her vibrate with excitement, “we also need to understand your abilities and how we can best utilize them.”

I’m still a little apprehensive but I ultimately nod. Eventually, I quietly mumble “I refuse to call that little shit ‘Captain’ though.”

Hange bursts into laughter, so uncontrollable that it starts to draw the attention of other people milling about. Once she collects herself, she says “I can’t wait to see you two interact more. You’re either going to be his favorite or he’s going to hate you with every fiber of his being.”

“That’s…reassuring,” I say wholly unconvinced.

Our tour around the barracks comes to a close at the mess hall just in time for dinner. I join Hange in line and continue to listen to her describing the quality of food. “It’s not the best but it’s not the worst either. They do what they can with what little resources they have. We don’t often get meat though so I hope you’re not strictly carnivorous,” Hange laughs at her own joke and I smile.

“Honestly, a hot meal that I don’t have to hunt or catch myself is a welcome change,” I lament.

“You said something similar about sleeping in a bed even though the dungeon beds leave much to be desired. If you hate living out there so much, why did you choose to live out there?” she ponders.

I smile again as food is added to our trays and we slide along. I don’t know what a lot of the items are so I just pick up all of the same things that Hange does. As we look for seats, I explain, “Well, truth be told this experience wasn’t exactly what I was anticipating. When I’ve lived on my own previously, I had the option to go into villages and I did so a few times a week.”

She sits down and I don’t pay much attention to our surroundings as I finish my story. “Sure, I was completely self-sufficient before but what I liked was that life seemed so simple. I did odd jobs for people, made art, and played music when I needed extra cash. I was expecting the same thing here but obviously that’s not what I got.”

Now that we’re sitting, I take my first bite and nod in contentment. Hange was right - it’s not great, but I’ve certainly had worse. It’s only now that I take a moment to look at the people near us and realize we’re being stared at. Before I can get too self conscious though, I notice the boy that I treated on the cart is sitting just up the table from us.

I grin, happy to see a familiar face, and I wave enthusiastically to him and say “Armin! It’s nice to see you again!” He seems embarrassed so I just turn back to keep talking to Hange. 

We finish eating and she shows me where to return my tray before changing the subject. “Okay!” she says with a clap. “Now I just need to show you to your room!”

The surprise must have been evident on my face because she laughs again and says “What, you thought we were going to make you sleep on the ground?”

I snort and respond, “no, it’s not that. I honestly thought I’d stay in the cell or be put in some kind of communal housing. I’m surprised I get an actual room.”

The humor drops from her tone as she says, “we did consider that, but both for your safety and that of the other soldiers, we decided it was best to keep you on your own.” I let her words sink in and I nod knowingly before she continues. “Plus, your room is right between the Captain’s quarters and my lab, so we can keep an eye on you.” When she says this, she almost seems like she feels guilty for not trusting me.

We stop in front of a door and I turn to her, trying to reassure her. “Hey, I get it. You guys have been really accommodating as it is, I totally understand that you’ve gotta watch me. I’ve said it before, but in your shoes I know I certainly wouldn’t trust me either.” With that, her smile returns and she opens the door to an admittedly very small room. 

Hange sheepishly says “it was converted from a storage closet so it’s-”

“It’s perfect,” I say with a smile, cutting her off before she says anything negative. “Whether it’s a closet or a cell or a blanket on the ground, I’m honestly just grateful that you didn’t opt to execute me.”

The backpack I took with me as I left the forest is sitting at the foot of the bed and there’s a small chest of drawers with a lamp on top. It’s not like I have a lot of things as it is, so this is more than enough. I open my bag and begin to put things away, and Hange’s voice cuts through my thoughts, “Even though your room is situated among the officers, you will still have to use the communal bathrooms and showers that the enlisted use. Sorry about that.”

I laugh, saying something similar to my previous responses, “I’ve been bathing in a river and rubbing flowers on myself so I don’t smell like a dead turtle seal. If it’s water and soap, I have no complaints.”

It seems like she has a question, but she just turns to walk out, only adding “I’m experimenting with Eren in the morning, so I’ll plan to see you just after lunch. Captain Levi and I want to test the extent of your abilities.” I nod and bid her a goodnight, hearing her mumble to herself as she closes the door, “what the hell is a turtle seal?”

When I wake up, I can barely make out what’s on the clock. I have no concept of time because my little closet doesn’t have a window so I flip on my light and instantly regret it. As my eyes adjust I see that I’ve missed breakfast so I decide to shower before I start my day. I fold my clean clothes over my arm and grab the towel and soap from the bottom drawer. As I walk towards the bathroom, I see what looks like a field of kids training.

Wow, Armin was right, most of them do look like they’re only about 15.

I shower quickly and peacefully, getting dressed before I step in front of the mirror to braid my hair. As I’m standing there, a girl with jet black hair walks in. I glance at her from the corner of my eye and recognize her as someone that was sitting with Armin the previous night. As I’m about to greet her, I realize that she’s merely glaring at me so I quickly decide against it. Walking back to my room I also realize how strange it would be to introduce myself to someone in a bathroom.

To kill a little bit of time, I go for a quick run to get my blood pumping for the day. It seems like everywhere I go people are staring at me.

This will be hard to get used to.

I cut my run off early when I came across Hange running an experiment with who I’m guessing is Eren. As I approach she spares me a glance before doing a quick double take.

“Are you wearing the same thing you wore yesterday?” she asks, now looking at Eren again.

I glance at my outfit before looking at her and blinking slowly. I answer with my own question, “you wear a uniform every day, does that mean they’re the same articles of clothes you wore the day before?”

“Touche, but you’re a civilian, why do you have more than one of the same thing?”

“Because I like it?” I say, a little perturbed. “It’s comfy, I can fight in it, and it’s all black so it’s good for concealing myself.”

“Okay, okay. I appreciate how early you are! Your enthus- wait! You are early right? I didn’t miss lunch again did I?!”

I chuckle a little, “relax, yes, I’m early. I was just going for a run before lunch. You didn’t miss anything.”

She heaves a noticeable sigh of relief and returns to her work. I decide to make myself comfortable and watch.

As I’m watching the scene unfold, I hear one of the only voices I’ve come to recognize.

“Oi! Y/n! If you’ve got time to sit you’ve got time to train,” Levi calls to me.

I sit up straighter, but I don’t look at him, afraid that if I do I’ll just lunge at him. I take a deep breath before I slowly turn to look at him. His expression is stoic as ever. I take one more calming breath before yelling back, “I train on my terms, remember? Plus, it’s almost lunch anyway.” I turn back to Hange and Eren and see him crawling out of the titan’s neck.

Holy shit, so there’s an actual person in there.

Once he’s been pulled out and the two start to head towards me, I offer the exhausted looking kid a smile. 

“I’m Y/n, and you must be Eren.” I stick out my hand but his big green eyes only look at it before looking back at my face. Somewhat coldly, he says, “yeah, I know.”

Rather taken aback, I slowly lower my hand and opt to look straight ahead as I offer a weak apology, “sorry, I didn’t realize you don’t shake hands with people when you meet them for the first time here.”

“Oh no,” Hange quips and I turn to her. “We do, he’s just being rude.”

I open my mouth to say something but I’m too stunned for any words to come out. At least she told me the truth. I hear Eren mumble something about not being rude under his breath and I realize I recognize his voice too. 

Before I can stop myself, the words come flying out, “Oh! You’re the kid that I could hear whining when you were in the woods the other day!” As soon as I say it, I want to suck the words back in but Hange laughs and, like a ghost, Levi seems to appear on the other side of Eren and snort too. 

I can see the kid’s temper flare as he yells back at me “Oh yeah?! Well you’re the freak that uses magic bullshit to ‘heal’ people! I think it’s a crock of shit and I think you’re dangerous!”

I smile at his outburst as we enter the mess hall. The four of us get in line and I can see that he’s flustered by the fact that he didn’t get a rise out of me. I shrug and say, “Well, you’re at least partially right. I am dangerous, but I have no intention of harming you or anyone else here,” I wink at him as he stares blankly. “There’s nothing ‘magical’ about my waterbending though. I simply manipulate water the same way people have done for thousands of years.”

My dismissal seems to shut him up. I see that he grabs different items than Hange and so I try to copy him. When we sit down, Levi disappears again and this time some kids sit with us, I’m guessing friends of Eren. Armin sits directly across from me and I grin at him again.

Hange can’t sit quietly for long, so she starts in “you say people have been bending water for thousands of years? Who was the first water bender? How did people discover they could do it? How did the first people learn?”

I smile as I listen to her questions and take a bite of my meal.

Hm, I think I like Eren’s picks better than Hange’s. I’ll have to remember this.

I look up, about to start, when I see multiple pairs of eyes on me. I chuckle and begin answering Hange’s questions.

“Well, it’s kind of complicated. Each of the elements learned from what we all call the ‘original benders.’ For earth benders it was the badger moles, for fire benders the dragons, and for air benders it was the flying bison. Water bending is weird in that the original bender isn’t an animal but rather the moon. People learned to water bend by mimicking the push and pull of the tide and since this is controlled by the moon’s pull on the earth and the ocean, people were basically just copying the moon. For that reason, water bending is actually stronger at night and strongest during a full moon. Conversely, I lose the ability to bend at all during an eclipse.”

When I look back up, everyone looks at me confused. “Okay, which part was unclear? I can explain something better depending on what you don’t understand.”

Hange answers immediately, “Y/n, nothing you said made sense. It sounds like you were speaking a different language. Dragons aren’t real and what the hell is a ‘badger mole’ or a ‘flying bison?’ And once you explain that, do you mind telling us what a tide is?”

Before I can start, Armin excitedly speaks up, “A tide is the ocean water hitting land! I’ve read about it! Are you saying you’ve seen the sea?!” His childlike curiosity makes me grin again. 

“Yeah, you’re exactly right. And yes, not only have I seen the sea, I’ve been swimming in it more times than I can count. I’m from the Northern Watertribe. It’s the farthest North you can go…or at least, that’s what people from my world think. We also think the Fire Nation is the farthest West you can go but I ended up here somehow so clearly we don’t know as much as we think we do.

“Anyway, badger moles are basically these big blind idiots that live underground. They use earth bending to feel their way around and it basically acts as their eyes. Flying bison are almost extinct, but the one that’s left belongs to my friend. His name is Appa and he’s probably as big as this room. He’s extremely fluffy and has six legs and a tail that can generate as much wind as a tornado.

“As for dragons, they definitely do exist. It was thought that they were hunted to extinction by firebenders at the beginning of the 100 year war but my friend Aang - the same person that owns Appa - encountered and learned from the last two dragons in the world.”

It seems like I’ve managed to mesmerize these kids and even Eren seems to have completely forgotten his anger towards me from moments ago.

With a slap of her legs, Hange declares, “Alright! Enough talking! Y/n, you ready to show us what you’ve got?”

And with that, we stand up and head to the training field.

[boqvistsbabe]

Update!!!!!!!!

Hey Y’all!!

Here is the start of hopefully monthly updates. I know in my last update I said I was going to be more consistently here and active. Obviously, that didn’t happen lol. Trying to hold myself to that rn. So this is probably going to be the format for all of my update posts, just so they are easier to follow.

Refresh:

So I am almost completely done with the blog refresh. I think all that is left is updating links and getting some other posts (ex: theme days) made/redone. Most of that got put on the back burner due to how long they were going to take lol. But hopefully, over Spring Break, I’ll be able to get those done (no promises, another thing I’m trying to do, is be more realistic about what I want to get done by when so). 

Writing/Other Content:

Ik I said I’d write more. Once again didn’t really happen. Well, I have written a decent bit, but never finished anything. There is one fic that I am going to try and work on after this week (midterms lol) and have someone look over it (the first time I’ve had a beta reader, look at me go lol). Like the blog as a whole, I am trying to organize my writing, like requests and my ideas and what is going out when etc. (@ any of the other writers if you have any suggestions of what to/where to organize my stuff so it doesn’t get all confusing and mixed up you should def let me know). Speaking of requests, I am going to try and do at least two requests a month. That doesn’t sound like a lot but for me, that feels like something I can realistically do. I will be doing old requests first because even though they are years old at this point, I liked the ideas so I genuinely want to write them. I am still going to be accepting new requests (esp because sometimes that helps spark creativity/help with writer’s block so feel free to send in any ideas!!) but I will try to get those older ones done first. As for any other content (playlists, moodboards, IG edits, drawings, etc.) I am also taking requests for those so feel free to send in any of those requests too. 

Another Blog?!

As of rn the second hockey blog has not been “released”. I want to catch up on things for this blog before I throw that into the mix and try to grow that as well. I am hoping to add that sometime this summer. Also, I do technically have a sideblog already (@samistheman) which is normally where I reblog random things, and I don’t really have tags for that blog I just kinda willy-nilly reblog there (it used to be mostly PJO stuff but now that’s kind of here because of how much of it there is lol).

Life Update:

College is a lot rn. I’m doing 17 credit hours and tbh do not know what possessed me to do that. At first, I was doing pretty good, but now not so much. Like I said earlier I have midterms this week. If y’all didn’t know this, I’m shit at taking tests so not doing great rn. Thankfully one of my classes ends on Sunday so at least I don’t have to worry about that. I’ve had a lot going on in my personal life recently that is impacting a lot so trying to navigate that as well. I am moving out in May, which is yes months from now but there is still a lot that I need to do beforehand. Anyway, I’m going to a college hockey game on Thursday and I am super excited. I haven’t been able to go to a game since October. Also little fun update, I’m going on a weekend (work) trip to Boston. Super excited for that. I’ll be getting to go to a Celtics game and a Red Sox game (I’m a Royals girlie tho). I’ve never been to an NBA game so that’s for sure gonna be really cool. I’ve been to many MLB games before but this will be my first at a different stadium. Anyway, I think that is it for this update. Hope y’all are doing well!!

As usual, if y’all ever want to talk dms/inbox are open <3

I am going to tag some moots, I am totally forgetting some people so I am sorry for that (if y'all could reblog that would be amazing)

@2manytabsopen @krugstrash @jimmystrudel @andreburakozy @sidneycrosbyhoe @fallinallincurls @timstuetzle @typical-simplelove @ilyasorokinn @drei-mrssvechii

[thefirstimagifabricator]

life update i suppose?????

since i’ve not been here much recently and won’t be for a bit

lol hi yeah I’ve been dead here that’s bc of the thing called School and also I’m in my school musical and I’m v busy with that and keep coming home and then just like. crashing and falling asleep so i really don’t end up going on socmed shite much yk

and yeah the show is the weekend march starts which is soon so quite busy and then a week after that i have a concert and a week after that I have my science olympiad state-level competition so there’s more busy. this time of year is always busy fjshjfs

might draw and share some shite though

i had a snow day today >:)

I’ll definitely do smth for kdj’s bday (that’s…technically tmrw now oh shit) but it might not be big esp bc i have my last two college supplementals due that night and I’ve not yet finished either of them. and also i have a late English assignment. so yeah

oh and i don’t think i said it here but i play genshin now. as of like. late december. I didn’t play for weeks though but I’ve been playing again bc of events and shite. i drew Gaming two nights ago and I’m v v happy abt it >:)

anyway that’s it i think lol

hope y’all are well and all of you who haven’t read orv yet you should go read it 👍

school musical is footloose btw and it’s going v well

[everygame]

Llamasoft: The Jeff Minter Story

Developed/Published by: Jeff Minter, Digital Eclipse / Digital Eclipse Released: 13/04/2024 Completed: n/a Completion: Played and viewed all of “The Early Years” and part way through "The Hairy Years" and still digging into the rest of it.

I know, I can’t believe it either. Every Game I’ve Finished topical for two weeks and even posting a write up of a game on its day of release (well, for supporters, anyway). It’s like I’m a games journalist again (spit).

I was hugely excited for this after enjoying what I’ve played of Atari 50 (better than those flashback collections!) and The Making of Karateka, and although this is absolutely, 100% not what I would choose to put out if I was attempting to be commercial after The Making of Karateka, I’ve gotta say… fair play to them. Though they’re pretty much nailing their flag in the terrain that says the Gold Master Series is not so much The Criterion Collection of games as it is like… Vinegar Syndrome or something. I mean there’s nothing wrong with that! Someone’s gotta put out deluxe versions of Bruno Mattei films [checks notes] oh hang on, no.

(To be fair, it’s actually a lot more like my buddy Justin’s boutique label Gold Ninja Video, which actually does insane work to put out work by filmmakers who should absolutely be known better.)

Anyway. They say there’s a stonking 42 games on this, but that’s a slight exaggeration because there’s technically on 33 different games with a few offering different versions based on system (Gridrunner, for example, is on VIC-20, C64, Atari 8-bit and as a remastered version) and most of the games are pre-1985 so there’s a lot of stuff here that’s really only going to be of interest if you like diving into some very dusty cupboards. This is something I honestly enjoy very much, so I loved pulling out a VIC-20 game and trying to make sense of it, but for many, I assume, the main draw here is the fact that it’s a proper re-release of his beloved Tempest 2000, a well that Minter has been back to a bunch of times–I loved TxK to pieces. It’s a slight bummer that this doesn’t re-release Minter’s more recent games which have been delisted like the iOS “Minotaur Project” (of which only a couple of games have been re-released as Minotaur Arcade.) However, it seems pretty obvious that would be a ton of fucking work to port, as would, say, getting a Nuon emulator up to spec so people could play Tempest 3000, so that's... fine.

(There’s also no Defender 2000, but that’s rights issues, and as far as I remember people don’t think that’s any great shakes.)

Presentation-wise, you know what to expect with this release, the same wrapper as in Atari 50 and The Making of Karateka with some different colours and music. This is fine! I think I’ve settled into this three releases in. You get a ton of interesting images, details, and box art to look at, though I still have issues with the layout of the documentary/museum (I can't remember which terminology Digital Eclipse would prefer.) I have small quibbles: in “The Early Years” if you go through it in order you play a version of Bomber on ZX Spectrum before they introduce the system into the narrative (admittedly the kind of thing you won't spot unless you're brutally anal on these kind of things like myself.) Then the final video you watch recaps everything you’ve just learned in a way that makes you feel like it should either have come first, or been split up into more videos. 

But I’d argue there’s deeper structural issues if you’re really trying to get people excited about video game history, and I again place it at the decision to go pure chronological* (as I did in The Making of Karateka.) If you play each game as you go, you’ll play a series of games so old and so ropey that you have to already be interested in this story to see it out. If you don’t know why you should care about Jeff Minter, I’m sorry, but a video of some talking heads and then immediately playing 3D3D, a baffling and slow first person maze game for ZX81 that has literally no analogue in the entire rest of his career is… not going to help! And I have to again bang on that I feel they just don’t place the games in enough context of the wider games industry at the time.

(*There's a quirk in that it's not exactly chronological, because all the Atari 8-bit ports are later in the documentary, which is a bit weird when you, for example, play two versions of Gridrunner and then the Atari 8-bit version several games later. I'm unclear on the exact reason if it, and if you're going to be even that irreverent, feels like you might want to just wildly reorder the whole thing for the audience anyway.)

I think Digital Eclipse’s counter overall would be that I probably want something more verbose and detailed which wouldn’t be as accessible, which isn't wrong. They might even argue that I'm basing my criticism on a hypothetical consumer who isn't even their intended audience! It's a hard line to ride, but I’d still argue that there’s a sense for storytelling in the curation here that’s missing--and I really don't want them to limit their audience because as critical as I might be, I love this series already and I want it to go on forever.

So yes, this is still the exact kind of thing I want to be released and if it’s opening up people to learning more about Jeff Minter and Llamasoft on their own time then I think it’s brilliant. I just think that anyone who picks this up who isn't already steeped in this era needs to be a bit forgiving and skip past all the ropey old games after looking at them for a couple of minutes tops and just enjoy reading the text and watching the videos until they get to the good stuff, so consider this fair warning before you buy it (because you should buy it.)

I mean if you only want this to play Tempest 2000 (and Llamatron 2112, actually) there’s nowt wrong with that, and that’s already worth the money.

Will I ever play it again? I’m still working through it!

Final Thought: I will, of course, be playing every game on this, and although I won’t be giving every Llamasoft release a full post, I have at least started with a write-up of each of the games in "The Early Years", as an introduction to the kind of things you’d be playing if you pick this up (and which sadly explains why you probably won’t want to play most of them... it gets better by the time you get to The Hairy Years, and significantly). If you want to read it, it's a supporter-only post over at my ko-fi. I suppose saying that makes my usual please subscribe stinger a bit pointless but let's hammer the point home why not. Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi! You can pick up a digital copy of exp. 2600, a zine featuring all-exclusive writing at my shop, or join as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

[bvannn]

Weekly Update February 2, 2024

I think I’m mostly better. The medicine I take is once a week, and it’s supposed to last me all week. Last week it brought me through about Tuesday, this week I was good until Wednesday, hopefully next week it’ll last the full week. I’m doing fine today too because Fridays are when I administer it. I think I’ll be fine real soon. Unfortunately I am swamped with homework, but I can manage it pretty soon.

This week as far as art projects was mainly me messing with music. I found the trick to getting good electronic instruments, and that is a little free plugin called Krush. I don’t know why music software companies like mortal kombat so much that they spell everything like that, but the ones that do make nice stuff so I won’t judge. I also started fiddling with Melodies for some instrumental themes for OCs, Shaun and Romeo are first up for that, planning to make progress tonight. Cleaned up my other project files as well and found a nice bass and drum line I must’ve made while I was delirious on medicine after surgery bc I don’t remember making it but it sounds nice so I’ll keep it. I’m the process of cleaning up a Zelda medley, I’ll probably post the piano version of that alongside the full instrumental. Finally, another one that’s set for vocals even though I technically haven’t finished the first one. I’m impulsive. The first one is just missing vocals and lyrics really so once I’m in a good headspace I’ll try to lyric out both of these in one go and fiddle with vocaloid after I know what words I want.

I also finally started prodding at Vocaloid 5. I’m going with v5 over v4 because it has a more user friendly UI and I’m under the impression that the attack and release feature is unique to v5, although I may be wrong on that. I’m still not sure exactly which voicebanks I’ll want to use, obviously the Kagamines would be a good choice because having a male and female option packaged together is cool, but the Zolas are also a package deal and have a bit more variation amongst them. I’m not sure how well they do English though, since they’re not built for it. I mean I guess people won’t really care, people still seem to be big fans of the Vflower English songs even though she’s also not built for english *or the genre most of those songs are* and they eat them up anyway. The Zolas are also less marketable than the Kagamines or Vflower, though. Also I guess Miku is an option and probably an inevitability if I do start making vocaloid music but I don’t need to start with her, you know? Idk maybe I’ll keep working on song stuff and consider which vocal fits the best, maybe I’ll draw them a bit too, see how much demand there is.

I haven’t been doing any comic work because I’ve still been sick, plus now I’m waffling since I don’t have a big animation project anymore and I guess I could fill the void by making that project an animation, but I’m still unsure. It might be smart to do both, and at a minimum my thumbnailing out the comic makes sure that everything is paced correctly and the dialogue flows. Tonight I’m hoping to pick back up where I left of before I got sick: I had finished the first third of the first ‘episode’, and was moving on to act 2.

Today especially I’ve been bit by the TTRPG bug again and kinda want to write out and draw stuff for that, but normally I do my best conceptual writing while I’m delirious in bed after my sleep medicine is kicked in but before I fall asleep. I stayed up late last night alternating between chemistry homework and playing ghost trick so tonight should be a good night for writing. Maybe I’ll get more comic outline writing done too, who knows.

And finally I also just really need to get more drawings done. I posted those epithet challenge ones the other day, which people seem to like. And I really want to do a drawing of Lynne, I like her because she reminds me of an OC of mine, can’t say which one or why though because that’s a spoiler for both characters. I really need to do more art in general, so I threw together a wheel of small little doodles to do, but all that still relies on me having free time, which is a lot scarcer now that I’m working. Still, if I get back into the habit of chugging out those comic pages, I can probably do a little more.

I’m still not sure what to do tonight. I keep flipping back and forth over whether I want to do music or drawing, and end up with little in the way of posting. I did find out that I can post audio to tumblr easy now, so I’ll try to do that more often. Idk. I’m exhausted from today specifically, and this past week has been busy, but I’m hoping it’ll die down and I can do more this upcoming week.

[dk-wren]

It's a day late, but here's a little update for WIP Wednesday!

Finally had time to work on a fic that was supposed to be ready for Kazurei week (oops). I have just a bit more to write and then editing it, but hoping to have it finished by the end of the weekend!

Hope you enjoy!

Rei stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had just finished tying his red tie, the final piece of what used to be his “uniform” when completing a hit. “Can’t believe I’m wearing this again,” Rei mumbled to himself. After the events at Suwa Manor a few Christmases ago, he hadn’t technically sworn to never wear a suit again, but he didn’t like all the memories associated with wearing one. Kazuki insisted on cleaning both of their bloodied and shredded clothes right after they got back from Miri’s Christmas party, so the suit itself was clean and had been collecting dust in Rei’s closet ever since. Rei tended to push it towards the side of his closet so he wouldn’t have to look at it too often. He didn’t particularly care for the suit to be hanging right in front of him whenever he got changed, pressed and clean, as if ready to be worn on his next assignment. Luckily though, that next assignment never came.  “Two, three years ago was it?” Rei thought to himself. “So much has happened since that day I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I’ve worn this suit.” At least to Rei, “so much” meant the ins and outs of “normal” life: washing the dishes, attempting to do the weekly marketing, spending a lazy weekend morning with Kazuki and Miri-everything that signaled to Rei, he was no longer just a living weapon. Signaling instead that he was part of a family, and one that loved him for who he was, and giving it his all when it came to his new title, Papa. Seeing that the three of them had been living together and operating as a family unit for some time, Kazuki threw out the suggestion of finding a local photo studio and having their picture taken. It wasn’t something Kazuki had really considered doing, but one night when their family was playing a card game on Kazuki and Rei’s bed, Miri noticed a framed picture of Kazuki and Yuzuko sitting on one of his bedside shelves. She pointed it out and asked if that was her Papa Kazuki and “Auntie Yuzuko,” drawing Kazuki and Rei’s attention to the little photo. Kazuki smiled and told her, “Yes, it is, Miri. We had that photo taken right before she passed. We didn’t know at the time it would be one of the last we took, but I’m glad to have it.” Rei caught the slightest glimmer of sadness pass over Kazuki’s face before perking back up at Miri gushing how dressed up and pretty they looked in their picture. A few days of contemplating later, Kazuki threw out the idea of having family photos taken to Rei to see what he thought, that is before he brought it up to Miri who he predicted would be all over the idea. “Sort of like making our little family official official,” Kazuki explained when pitching the idea. Rei sat watching Kazuki as he seemed lost in his thoughts for the next few moments, before continuing on, “Maybe this is a dumb idea. I think I was just fixating on the memory after Miri pointed it out. We don’t have to go get our picture taken if you don’t want to, I mean we have plenty of other photos with all of us, which I’d say still count as proof that we really are a family,” Kazuki finished. 

I guess for a little bit of context, this was meant for the Day 1 prompt "Firsts"

-Dakota Wren

[1-deadgirlwalking-1]

7/6/2024

it is 5:59am. I didn’t sleep obvi. I’ve been staying up all night for. Like two months straight at this point. Less than a handful of regular night sleeps. I go outside only a handful of times in a week most of the time, and 95% of those times is going outside for two seconds to hand something to my dad then go back in immediately after. Going out for something other than to the store is like once or twice a month. Generally.

I’ve become practically addicted to AI chats. I keep deleting then redownloading apps because I’ll spend hours on them doing nothing, until I am forced to delete them because I can’t stop. Then I’m like “Oh, I’ll redownload it and use it moderately this time!!” And the cycle continues.

There are my most general life / mental updates.

Theoretically I want to get better but the safety and comfort of my bed is too alluring! I don’t want to leave it. I don’t want to go outside. Scary.

I was watching Bocchi the Rock recently, and her complaining that joining a band didn’t fix all her unhelpful habits made me realize that getting friends won’t fix all my unhelpful habits or make me healthy and stable either.

Not having friends or not going outside or not doing this or that is not the root of all my problems, it’s all just me, and I’m the only one who can change me. Which upsets me. I don’t wanna get better I wanna sleep. All day forever and ever. Getting better is too much work. I don’t wanna do anything ever. But I want to be better and do things, but I also don’t. Grr.

I don’t want to do anything. Sigh. I wanna wallow in my own misery and go back to all the old unhelpful habits I have gotten rid of. They’re comforting. It’s easier. It feels good. Getting better DOESN’T feel good, it feels unfamiliar, and like I’m always doing everything wrong.

I wish it was night time forever. Stay awake in bed forever. No one else but me because they’re all asleep. I wish I was nocturnal.

Also Bocchi is literally me. I too fear that I won’t break out of my bad habits by the time the invisible timer in my head goes off and I’ll be forced to become a corporate slave where I’ll just get fired over and over because I’m so bad that no job will want me, and after I grow tired of that I’ll eventually become a NEET leeching off of my poor parents. Technically I am a NEET right now since it’s summer…

I wish I was in Bocchi’s position. She’s living the shut-in with no friend’s dream. The whole show people just keep approaching her and forcefully becoming her friends, giving her things to do, and places to be (+ a job). I WISH. But alas, the onus is on me to make my life better.

I’ll be going to sleep now because the sun has come up and it scares me. I don’t wanna be awak.

It is 7:51pm. I’m working on some art fights. I’ve finished 5 attacks in two days cause I’ve just been making memes. They’re much easier and less intimidating to draw than poses and stuff. Easier to make look neat, easier to finish.

But my (only) IRL friend attacked me so I have to attack them back, I will make something nice looking for them! Even if it’s just a sketch.

I’m feeling less terrible about the concept of getting better and doing the work myself now that it’s not 6:30 in the morning. But it’s still so intimidating, and like “Do I haaave tooo…” Blehh.

[genmakesmedia]

alternative narrative project ideas: my planning process

By now, I've spoken about how long it takes me to choose an idea in several posts, so I figured I’d give an example to back that up! Because my creative process sure is a process.

Okay, a bit of background about this project: we decided as a group that our theme would be "Reflection of Childhood" on the 20th of February, and the project was due in on the 10th of April. This gave us roughly a month and a half to conceptualise and produce our artefacts, alongside coding the website and writing our reflections.

I finalised my concept maybe two or three weeks before the project deadline.

You might be wondering: what happened? It's a good question - a great question, even - and I'd also quite like to know, to be honest. So let's examine:

My original idea was a physical stop-motion animation drawn entirely on paper with crayons. After some sketches, and experimenting, this turned out to be a logistical nightmare. For a start, to produce 60 seconds of smooth animation I probably would have needed an entire tree's worth of paper, and that felt expensive and wasteful.

So then I altered my idea slightly - I would complete the animation digitally doing what I'd initially planned, and just using brushes that looked like crayon to produce the same effect - easy fix! I now knew I wanted to work with the idea of “firsts” as my age bracket was so young, and so a lot of planning took place here.

However, when it came to actually animating, I kept finding that nothing was really looking how I wanted it to. The style didn’t lend itself well to much movement, apart from an animation boil of flat colour, and that felt lazy - though I did end up with some pretty cool title and transitional frames I wish I could have used:

I thought about how I could have a more visually interesting concept that still fit the era of childhood that I was working with, and that was when I came up with the idea of working in the style of a children’s tv show - I felt it almost fit better thematically, honestly, because I’m a lot more nostalgic about the shows I used to watch than any drawings I might have done. So I mocked up a few example animations. Unfortunately I only have screenshots from them, as Tumblr has a 1 video per post rule, but I was pretty happy with myself for this idea (though truthfully was worried by both my technical ability and the timeframe I had to work with, as animation takes a lot longer the more detailed it is).

I finally figured out an idea I liked after absently experimenting with a simple animation of a character spinning around - this ended up being the final frame of my actual animation (read that post here) which ironically enough I finished first. First of all I storyboarded, and then put together a Google slideshow with some references for bits of animation and concepted the character in full so I knew what her personality should be like.

It doesn’t look like so much when it’s all laid out, but I also spent an extensive amount of time thinking about the project and doing work that I’d end up deleting a couple of hours later because it wasn’t looking right.

My process looks similar every time I have a creative project, and I’ve been thinking hard about how I could reduce the time it takes. I think maybe taking the time to create a mindmap and visually get out as many of my ideas as possible could help me to figure out which ones are the most possible/realistic faster, so I’m definitely going to try that next time instead of just jumping straight in to my first idea.

[oliviapas]

Writing Initiative #6

Which piece did you present to the class today? How does it relate to the other pieces previously presented?

Describe 2–3 specific strengths your classmates found in your work and their reasons for identifying them.

Describe 1–2 specific ways your classmates thought you could improve this work going forward.

Consider the remaining outcome yet to be presented in a couple of weeks; why have you put it off the longest? Describe your reasons for presenting this outcome last.

Finally, you have now had a chance to present each of your projects (2D, 3D, 4D, Reflective) in process to the class. Produce an image of each one and describe how an aspect of your word is manifested in each piece.

Today I discussed my idea for my 3D piece. I feel like I had trouble talking about it and explaining, especially because I’ve been feeling really frustrated with the progress on my 4D. I’ve never had a coding issue like this where it’s been this hard to solve, and it’s frustrating that I can’t just call it done. I feel like it’s been sucking too much time and I need to be spending more on my 3D! I didn’t talk about it today but I have made more progress on my Reflective and I’m not worried about finishing it, but 3D has been going slowly. I want to focus on the idea of the imaginary that is part of my word, since it’s an imaginary yet never-fading flower. I think AR is perfect for this, since it is technically imaginary and also since it is digital it never fades. I’d like to make a sort of sticker for it that can be placed on any wall using Adobe Aero, but the problem lies in what the subject should be. I gathered some research to get friends to draw a flower from their imagination, thus an imaginary flower, and I think it would be cool to compile something from that. It relates to my previous pieces in that it again follows the flower part of my word but since I have already covered the mythology, growth, and never-fading ideas of my word in my other assignments, I think tacking the imaginary part makes sense.

In class, my classmates had some good suggestions for me. Ideas were making some kind of quilt or a patchwork of ideas into a gardening item like gloves. Also had the suggestion of compiling the drawn flowers all into one, which I think makes sense; picking common elements and making one thing. I thought the other patchwork ideas were cool but didn’t really make sense with my word, but patch-working the flowers themselves I think could work since again it’s making a flower from imagination, and it doesn’t exist, much like the myth of the amaranth (the flower does exist in reality, but the myths say it doesn’t). I think the idea of AR went over well, but I think I didn’t explain things very well so my peers didn’t really see my idea, but I also don’t have a clear vision so that’s very fair.

At this time, I don’t have anything finished enough for 3D, but I have images of the progress on the rest of my assignments:

Seed packets: Following the more literal definition of the word, these seed packets are designed for popular amaranth varieties. I used amaranth (the colour) as a big part of the design.

Amaranth game: For my game, I focused on the mythology behind my word, as there is a Greek myth about the flower being hidden by the gods and the finder can become immortal. I also used amaranth the colour as a big part of the game.

Reflective document: I wanted to consider the never-fading idea of my word, since amaranth is defined as an immortal, never-fading flower. I thought, what is more immortal than the web? I wanted to play on nostalgia of early HTML websites and GeoCities. This also looks a lot like the first website I ever made, and I really wanted to lean into that 90s/2000s web aesthetic.

[dokidokitsuna]

Betrayers...?

This is the first new piece I’ve done since I hurt my arm last week...turns out, using new drawing paper that’s 5x more difficult to make marks on will put 5x the strain on your wrist. Who knew?? ^^;;;

I’m still healing, to be honest...but having to go so long without drawing ANYTHING made me rethink a few of my ambitions-- like making SSS a comic, for one. It’s been 10 months since I first introduced the concept, and I just haven’t done enough relative to that time. At this point, it’s so old that a new idea is bound to overtake it in the coming months, so even if I wanted to get serious I wouldn’t have time to finish it anyway. :T

Like I said before, I enjoyed writing the script, and I’d still like to draw it all out someday. BUT, in case I cannot, I might as well treat it like a normal AU and draw pictures of all the fun stuff while there’s still time. The spoiler safeguards are coming off!

This was probably the biggest one; that Susie (and Mags) were gonna end up turning to the dark side. ^^ Kind of...it’s complicated. I’ve already explained that Star Paragon and his ilk aren’t so much ‘evil’ as they are apathetic, so if you can join their ranks and get them to trust you, you have free rein to do pretty much whatever you want with their resources.

In this respect, Mags is purely an opportunist: he has one (1) objective, he openly admits to using both the invaders and Susie to complete that objective, and once that’s done, he kinda disappears.

Susie, on the other hand, is very deeply entrenched in the plot, and takes the role of the Sentai’s main antagonist for a long time. She’s also a little mentally altered in this role, which is something she did to herself AND something her character development revolves around. I have a lot more to say and draw about her, so stay tuned~

Anyway...although I drew these two together, they rarely work together and don’t even like each other. ^^; Well, technically, part of Susie cares for Mags very deeply (stay tuned for that, too) but she is also the reason his glasses are broken now, so...yeah. :T I don’t want to say their relationship as villains is toxic or abusive per se...let’s just say it’s unhealthy and leave it at that. Now that I think about it though, if they were willing to fight together they’d be pretty OP as a team...maybe just once...

[sortasirius]

What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me.  Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based.  In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place.  Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!”  Bruh.  The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode.  You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season).  Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here.  Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone.  He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else.  That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit.  This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this.  That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS.  AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all.  Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this?  I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20?  AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT?  WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half?  Nothing really happened?  Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around.  It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it.  The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery.  Truly, that is the only thing.  It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper​ got a week or so before the finale.  She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right?  It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc.  The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.”  Uh.  Where are they?  And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So.  Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

????????  That’s the end if it?  They don’t need to be discussed after this???  It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too?  Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay?  Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else.  They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else.  Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here.  What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right.  Weird as fuck.  Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas?  My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene.  Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back.  Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it.  Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad.  It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway.  He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here).  Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying.  My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair​ spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven.  The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago.  We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread).  The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here.  Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here.  Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions.  Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was.  None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why?  Why lie to all of us when we have questions?  Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense.  Simply?  Warner Brothers is absolutely massive.  These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs.  They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha.  It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him.  He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids.  It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then. 

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram.  It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other. 

My theory?  They didn’t know.  They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all?  Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so.  I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God.  I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read.  He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that?  Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys.  Why would he get involved?  He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is.  He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam.  I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to.  So what changed?  What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious?  CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South.  It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And?  They don’t care.  They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects​ wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here).  They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line.  And you know what?  To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what?  They warned us.  I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network.  I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want?  Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy.   In fact, to the people trashing them?  You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb.  Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them.  The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this,  Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

[separatist-apologist]

Golden

I once believed love would be burning red. But it's golden

Summary: To save his people, Lucien Vanserra will marry his most hated enemy.

But to love her? Well, that's another thing entirely

My humble @elucienweek2022 submission

13k words

Chapter 2: Luck of the Draw Only Draws The Unlucky

Read More: AO3 | Chapter 1

To her credit, it took Arina an entire week at the Seaside Palace to finally turn that pretty face of hers and ask, “Well? How is he?”

Vassa erupted with laughter, spread across their trio of rafts they were using to float atop the ocean. They’d convinced Lucien to allow a few servants to take the boat out, bored of the pool and the garden and the endless monotony. He’d relented, sword in hand as he went to work off whatever troubled him with Jurian in the sparring ring. Elain and Lucien did not talk to each other about more than the weather, did not confess the things that ate at them.

“I have nothing to compare him to,” Elain admitted, laying in the middle raft, a floppy sun

hat shielding her face from the constant hot, bright sun. 

Vassa’s golden face appeared just above Elain. “But you are finishing, right?”

“Yes.” Gods, it embarrassed her to talk about it at all. They were all so casual about sex and Elain was trying to fit in. 

“I miss sex,” Arina, on the opposite end of their rafts, said the words just a little too loud to be casual. Elain noticed how one of the servants peered down at them, checking, she was sure, to make sure they hadn’t drowned and put himself right in Arina’s eye line. 

“You’re next,” Vassa said seriously, rolling from her back to stomach. “Helion will tire of your antics eventually and then what?”

“I’ll be dead,” Arina said confidently. “I’m not interested in marriage. Especially not after–”

Elain waited for her to finish that thought. “After what?”

“Arina was almost married,” Vassa hedged. “Once.”

“Once,” Arina agreed. “To the prince of the west. It was arranged, like these things are and I was young. So was he. Untested…he needed a wife better grounded in politics and that tied our realms together.”

“What happened?”

Arina’s laugh was bitter. “His father. He couldn’t stand watching his son get a young wife and thought it ought to be him. He changed the terms the week we arrived and I…I ran. I ran all the way back to Naxos and begged Lucien not to make me go through with it. I don’t know what he said to his father but I know he promised to make me his political advisor…for all the good that’s done him.”

“What about their king? Beron, right?” Elain questioned. 

“Oh, they hate us,” Vassa said cheerfully. “Helion stole Beron’s wife, once. Right from beneath his nose. Lady Amera supposedly climbed out of a window and sailed her own ship to be with him. They nearly fought a war over her but in the end, Beron got to keep her son and Helion paid him a lot of money.”

“So Lucien has a brother?”

“Half-brother,” Arina agreed. “Eris. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven Lucien from giving their mother a reason to stay here. I’d be mad, too, if I had to be raised by Beron though. Our history is complicated. Helion doesn’t make any woman who escapes their realm and crosses our border go back though Beron has been putting pressure on him to do so for years. Lots of run-away brides here.”

Vassa looked down at her splayed hands. “I’m technically still married in the west,” she admitted. “Not that I had any say, but…”

“And you’re about to be married in the south,” Arina agreed cheerfully. Elain looked at Vassa, who’s sunkissed skin was flushed with pleasure.

Married? To Jurian, Elain assumed. He was always touching, always watching after the red head with that intense look of his. 

“A week,” she said to Elain’s questioning stare. “I’ve asked Lucien if you can be there but…”

“Right,” she agreed, looking at the crystal water. Lucien hadn’t said so, of course, but she was being cloistered from his home on purpose. “I’ll be fine while you are gone.”

Vassa and Arina exchanged a glance before Arina sat up, hands on her bare thighs. “What if you promised not to…” “To open the gates and let Graysen Nolen in,” Vassa finished, not bothering to mince words. “If Lucien thought you weren’t a threat he’d take you back.”

“You’d like Naxos,” Arina added hopefully. “The palace has a lot more swimming pools, if nothing else.”

“What about his lover?” Elain asked, hating how even asking made her feel uneasy. She kept imagining that pretty woman striding into his arms and kissing him as if he were a regular man and not the crown prince. Hate him as she swore she did, Elain wanted that sort of familiarity with someone. She wanted a man to reach for her as the first thing he did, to sweep her up without caring about his image or reputation or who might see. Lucien swore he wouldn’t take a mistress but Elain didn’t believe him. Deep down, she knew he wanted her to stay out here so he could have his wife when he felt like it and his lover the rest of the time. Elain swallowed her embarrassment, reminding herself she ought to be grateful Lucien did nothing more than touch her with his fingers and his mouth. 

“Jes?” Arina asked, her voice careful. “He can’t hide from her forever.”

“If I were her, I wouldn’t want to see me,” Elain replied. Lucien might not care for her emotionally, might share nothing, but he still came to her each night as a husband ought to. Elain hadn’t been raised to expect any more and in some ways, she found the entire thing fulfilling. Almost enjoyable, given how she woke each morning alone and was allowed to do as she liked. Lucien didn’t bother her, didn’t ask her for anything, barely looked at her at all until he returned in the evening and locked the door behind him. 

“She’s practical,” Vassa assured Elain. “She understands, I’m sure…”

“She knew who he was when they met,” Arina added softly and Elain wondered if they wouldn’t choose Jes once they all returned. They knew her, after all, well enough to know there would be no true hard feelings. That frightened Elain more than anything. She’d never had real friends, friends she thought might keep her secrets. Might like her. To lose them on a technicality, to be left with only Lucien, well…

“I can stay,” Elain said again, too brightly to be believable. Arina and Vassa narrowed their eyes before Vassa rolled between her raft and Elain’s to rest her head on Elain’s shoulder. “I want you to go. You’d like Naxos.”

“I’ll talk to Lucien,” Arina added, the matter decided between them.

And it was only later that Elain realized they’d asked, not because they needed her to be there, but because they wanted her to love their home. 

They wanted her to belong.

LUCIEN:

Elain was waiting for Lucien, her skin tanner than he’d seen it since she arrived. She’d filled out over the last week, though if it was the food or the companionship Vassa and Arina were offering, he didn’t know. What he did know, without a doubt, was that within the span of a week, both Arina and Vassa were willing to go to bat for the enemy. Violently, if his bruised arm had anything to say about. They wanted him to lift her sequestration so she could come to Naxos.

Lucien thought the idea had merit, if only to introduce his people to their new princess during a time of celebration. They’d been denied a wedding between him and her and the next best thing would be to parade her through the city. Elain was a thing of beauty and her smiles were genuine, even if they had never been directed at him. He could understand why Vassa and Arina felt protective and how Elain might draw in others.

He didn’t want Jes to see. Every time he thought about bringing Elain back, all he could think of was the devastation he’d feel, knowing he was rubbing his new wife in the face of the woman who ought to have been his wife. The woman he still wanted, who still plagued his thoughts all day. He was compartmentalizing the woman back home, the one he was still desperate to have and the one in his bed, his wife. The woman he would kill to keep. Lucien couldn’t explain it— he was supposed to protect her, to keep her safe and he knew, as he strode towards the bed, he would do far worse, far uglier, to ensure Elain could lay in silk sheets with a sunburned nose and a soft smile on her exquisite face. It faded when he stepped into the room as it always did, her eyes becoming somber. She’d smile for Vassa and Arina…but not for him. 

“I was starting to think you’d left already,” she said. Only Elain had not asked to go. She had quietly resigned herself to spending the next week alone. 

“Tomorrow,”  he murmured, shedding himself of his clothes and sliding into bed. Elain always wore a nightgown no matter how many times he protested, even after he’d declared their bed a place devoid of clothing. Some habits died hard, he supposed. 

Pulling Elain against his body, Lucien indulged himself in the fantasy that she came. He let himself imagine putting her atop his horse, adorned in gold. As always, his fantasies slanted back to his bedroom. What he really wanted was Elain back in his actual bed, splayed across his blankets, moaning his name for the city to hear. And he couldn’t do it, because he knew Jes would know and the door between them would close forever. A week without Elain or a life with Jes?

“Will you send my letters for me?” Elain added, pulling a stack of neatly addressed letters from her nightstand to hand to him. Lucien paused. 

“You’ve been writing letters?” he asked, noting that she hadn’t sealed any of the envelopes. 

“You can read them, if you like,” she whispered, her humiliation evident. “Just to my sisters. No code, I…we were close.”

“Sure.” It wasn’t a lie. Lucien would read the letter before leaving it up to his father to decide. Elain only offered him that soft, hurt tinged nod. She was making the best of things, was trying in her small little way. He’d caught her out in the garden a few times digging up weeds just as often as he found curled up by a window staring at nothing. 

“Do you miss him?” Lucien asked impulsively. Elain looked down at her fingers, curling them against her palm.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. The answer irked him. She was his wife, but Lucien only barely considered himself her husband which was the real problem. He could do what he liked, could love whomever he chose but Elain could only want him. She didn’t have to love him, but she couldn’t pine for someone else and certainly couldn’t miss Graysen. 

It was petty, but Lucien, his feelings hurt, said, “You’ll stay out of trouble this week?” She’d stay, if only to salve the wound she didn’t even know she’d made. 

And Elain didn’t look disappointed at all. She didn’t seem relieved, either. Just carefully neutral, nodding as she slid down the mountain of pillows against the bed frame. Lucien set her letters to the side so he could pull her into his arms.  “I’m learning to bake bread,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his neck. “When you return, I’ll have mastered it.” A good little wife. She made the best of things because what other option did she have? Guilt gnawed at him and Lucien silenced it with a kiss to her mouth and then a kiss to other places he far preferred to touch. Lucien drew it out until dawn, refusing to let her sleep until after he departed, telling himself it was kinder, that she could waste a whole day in bed rather than walking the halls of the Seaside Palace alone.

And yet he knew it wasn’t true. Lucien was being selfish, was taking what she was giving without offering her anything in return. He took her letters, he took Jurian and Vassa and Arina and he left Elain with a skeleton crew of servants, a few guards and a warning he’d kill them all if she escaped. Vassa and Jurian said nothing as they’d sailed away but Arina, who was always supposed to be his spy, was livid.

“There is supposed to be a storm this week,” Arina complained, watching the shimmering, iridescent palace fade in the distance. “She’s going to be alone. Has she ever experienced a hurricane?”

“How should I know?” Lucien replied, refusing to feel an ounce of guilt. 

“What if she gets hurt? What if one of the men–”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Jurian interrupted, though Lucien saw the uncertainty in his eyes. They’d hand-picked the guards, men they’d fought alongside for over the years. Men Lucien would have trusted with his own life.

“They wouldn’t dare take their revenge on Ellesmere’s princess?” Arina challenged, turning pleading, green eyes to Lucien. “Please bring her–”

“No.”

“You’re such a coward,” Vassa scoffed from beside Jurian. 

“Since when is this Elain’s court?” Lucien demanded. “You’ve spent a week with her and suddenly I’m not your prince any longer? You follow her commands?”

“Elain asks for nothing,” Vassa protested. “Surely you must have noticed, given how you’re constantly fucking her. She never says no, she just does what she’s told. If we don’t look out for her, it’s not like you will.”

“I resent that. She’s my wife.”

“At night,” Arina snapped. “During the day she’s your enemy.”

“Well,” Lucien began, staring her down with a fury he could only just contain. “Not all of us get to just walk away from a marriage contract.”

“Oh go fuck yourself,” she retorted. The four of them lapsed back into stony silence. Lucien was practically simmering by the time he reached the city. Arina stormed off without a word, leaving

Vassa to make some small semblance of apology.

“She’s trying too, Lucien,” Vassa murmured. “You know she doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

“What about Jes?” he demanded but Vassa shook her head. 

“What do you really know about Arina? I mean, really know about her? She’s not outgoing and social like you…like Jes. You should have let Elain come and keep her company.”

“It's too late now. I can’t risk Elain telling Graysen about us, about our court, our home…”

Vassa nodded. “I hope this is worth it.”

It was worse inside the palace. His father frowned the moment he stepped inside, his falling silent to shoo away the courtiers surrounding him. “Where is your wife?” he demanded, the golden throne sitting silent at his back.

“Safe,” Lucien replied. “Far away from the things I love.” Lucien tossed the letters to his father, having read them silently on the journey over. She’d been truthful enough, though if there was a code to speak of, it was far too advanced for him to pick up. Elain spoke of her day, of how she occupied her time, never once mentioning him at all. She very carefully avoided saying his–or anyone else's–name, as if she knew more than just Feyre and Nesta would be reading. She’d said nothing of city landmarks, described nothing that couldn’t be found in a million other places, like the pool and the library, and had generally painted a very rosy picture.

I’m safe. Don’t worry about me. I miss you both and hope to see you soon. 

“So have her sisters,” Helion replied, rising from his throne to beckon Lucien to follow. “You were supposed to bring her for this, to introduce her to the city.”

“I don’t trust her,” Lucien snapped, though that was only partly true. He didn’t want Elain getting in the way of his reunion with Jesminda. His father ushered him into the study to produce the stack of letters, far larger than Elain’s fourteen. 

“Jesminda is gone, Lucien,” he said without preamble. “Your mother has sent her to Rhodes.”

Lucien’s whole body became ice. “What?”

“She swore you’d try something like this. I defended you, and yet here you are. Wifeless, trying to have both women at once. Jesminda is gone. She is not coming back, not in my lifetime. She will move on, will remarry and will remain your subject for as long as she dwells within our borders, but she will never again warm your bed.”

“You should have told me,” Lucien said, turning his back so his father would not see his pain. “I didn’t tell her goodbye.”

He felt his fathers hand on his shoulder, steadying him until his breathing slowed. “I wanted to marry her. I was going to ask when we returned.”

“You could have told me no,” his father reminded him. “I gave you a choice.”

“Peace, though…” Lucien said desperately, turning to look up at the person he trusted most in the world. “How could I ever look at her knowing I chose her over peace?”

“I was a choice,” he replied gravely, walking back to his desk. “One Elain Archeron was not given. You owe her.”

“She wouldn’t even care,” Lucien protested, well aware he won no favor with his father for saying so.

“West and North are not so different,” Helion began, sliding those letters from her sisters—unopened, uninspected. “When I met your mother, she wasn’t allowed to make eye contact with any man that wasn’t her husband.”

Lucien sank into the chair across from his father. He’d never heard this story. Only the sanitized version everyone else got, of how she’d risked her life for love and how Helion had been willing to march to war to keep her. “Dressed in those heavy dresses and so many absurd layers…for her protection, of course. She was young, just like Elain, too. Already had a child and was trying desperately not to have another. Archeron was marching again and Beron and I decided to ally. He set up camp in our city, combined forces so we could shove him back and Amera came to stay, too. You wouldn’t know it, but your mother apologized for everything, things so far out of her control…she was nothing if her husband didn’t say so. Even after she left him, it took time and patience to coax her out. Where is your patience, son?”

Lucien took a breath. “She has scars on her back. Ten of them–I’ve counted. She won’t tell me who gave them to her.”

Helion looked at the smooth, emptied wood of his desk. “It’s an early test of obedience. Girls learn not to make noise. If she has ten, I’d guess she cried, and if she still wears the scars… they likely used more violence than necessary.”

Lucien rubbed his eyes and looked to the heavens. “How am I supposed to care for her when she sleeps in my bed wishing I were the enemy?”

His father only sighed.

“Figure it out.”

ELAIN:

A ship came mid-week with supplies and letters. One from Lucien and one from Arina. Elain opened Arina’s first, giggling at the first line.

I’m sorry Lucien is such an ugly asshole. Arina filled her in on the wedding, her letters clearly passing the scrutiny of Lucien’s gaze. She could see where he’d carefully opened the letter, tearing the delicate parchment without meaning to. He’d resealed it, smoothing the edges and she wondered how many years would be spent this way. Arina ended her letter sweetly—I miss you more than I thought I would—-leaving Elain feeling empty and lonely. It had only been four days since they’d left and yet she could only occupy herself so often with kneading dough. It had to rise, had to proof and then be eaten before she could start over. 

The letter from Lucien was shorter and formal.

I hope you’re doing well.

You are on my mind.

I will see you soon.

Nothing that betrayed anything but duty. Nothing that spoke of the week of nights he’d spent naked in the same bed as her. She still woke at night reaching for him, only to find cold, empty space. She imagined he was doing just fine with Jesminda, that Lucien had gotten what he’d wanted and would return to the island only when he was forced to.

Arina would be back, though. She’d sworn to return with the next departing ship. That didn’t seem to be anytime soon, given the moodiness of the sky. She’d heard the servants murmuring about an incoming storm with wariness. Elain left them to unload, noting how the guards watched her with hateful eyes. Whatever Lucien had told them kept them at their posts, kept them from getting too close…but sometimes, at night, Elain swore she heard footsteps outside her bedroom door and clutched that knife Arina had given her just a little tighter. She didn’t doubt for a moment that they wouldn’t kill her if they had the chance.

The servants, too, kept a respectful distance. Wary. Everyone was just wary of her, the princess of Ellesmere, daughter of their hated enemy, foisted upon their beloved prince. He hadn’t brought her with him and that spoke volumes. She was good enough to have sex with but not a beloved wife. 

Elain went to her bedroom despondently, locking the door as she always did before turning to the rest of the letters. Half Feyre, half Nesta. Only a few had been opened, as if his curiosity had gotten the better of him before guilt won out. Elain read Nesta’s first.

Elain-

I hope you’re doing well and you’re being taken care of. Father refuses to send an emissary to check you though Feyre and I have been applying pressure. Feyre was punished for trying to ride on her own to come get you, to bring you back. She is laid up in bed, miserable and furious. We both are. Graysen swears this is all temporary but you are another man’s wife and we all know you can’t just come back. I’m getting worried…worried enough to look for other allies. 

If you are safe, write us back. I will assume if you do not it is because you are unsafe. I just want to see you. Press upon the prince to meet us somewhere, assure him it is not an ambush. Just two sisters worried about their missing piece. We promise to come unarmed.

Miss you,

Nesta

Elain- 

I know you must miss him, but General Nolan is a fucking bastard. He caught me outside the city and dragged me back and father let him give me five lashes for his trouble. He enjoys it too much and some small part of me is glad you escaped him. He still thinks he’ll be made King but Nesta is looking to usurp him and she is not a viable candidate for marriage. He thinks you’ll come back somehow, that this will all still work out but…if they are treating you well, I think you should stay. DON’T come home unless this is better than whatever you’re facing there. I reached out to some contacts in the east and they say Naxos is a haven for people in the west but I don’t know if that extends to you. 

Nesta and I want to come see you but father won’t allow it. He won’t send the emissary’s, he won’t consent to anything so we write in secret, waiting for you to tell us you’re well, that Lord Lucien is a good enough husband and that you could be happy. 

If that is all true, perhaps we’ll meet again when things settle (and Graysen is dead). If not, though…we should all leave. Things are increasingly hostile and I think war is inevitable. Maybe not this year. But next? There is a summit in the east, a gathering to create a more permanent peace between our four realms. I know father and Graysen intend to go and Nesta has all but secured a spot. I am confident I could figure it out but could you? Would your prince allow you to? Ask him, do what you must. We will meet here, if only to reassure the others we are safe. 

I worry about all of this, about what will happen next. Most of all, I worry they have locked you away somewhere and you don't know that we miss you at all. I worry you’re alone and scared. Have hope, if you’re reading this. We love you, even if Nesta’s letter didn’t say so.

Be strong. Be safe.

Feyre. 

Elain read the others, tears dripping down her nose. She forgot to eat that night, curled in her bed of blankets and papers, rereading Feyre and Nesta’s words until she had them memorized. Graysen whipping Feyre, chasing after her, telling on her��walking around, preening and assuming he could still be king, that she would still somehow be there to marry him. With no concern about her safety, her life, her feelings.

Elain knew if he ever got her back now, he’d punish her for being sullied for the rest of her life. He’d know she liked it, that she’d gone willing every time when he’d told her not to. And Lucien hadn’t been wrong when he’d accused her of letting Graysen kill any children she had while she was here. If he got to her before they were born, he’d merely kill the infant before it ever took its first breath and after, well…Elain could imagine the accidents that might befall a child. There would be no half-siblings battling for rule, no marching to war for a woman. Lucien was likely to hand her over.

Perhaps he would when he returned, if things with Jesminda went well. Maybe that was why Graysen wasn’t concerned with her absence. He’d already reached out to Lucien, had offered another trade. Peace for the woman who he’d offered up in good faith. It made no sense and yet it kept her awake that night, twisting her stomach in knots until Elain fell asleep in the bathroom, wrapped in a duvet, her head pressed against the porcelain tub. 

The sound of glass shattering and a pounding on the door roused Elain. She woke to total darkness which made no sense. “Princess!” a man’s voice barked. “Princess, you need to get up!”

Howling wind and creaking wood groaned around her. Elain scrambled upwards, only to be thrown back by a pulse of something. She screamed, her voice sucked into the yawning world. Rain pelted through the broken windows while wind sent shards of glass everywhere, slicing against her skin as she battled for the bathroom again. It was as if the world had exploded, erupting with furious, ugly violence. She’d never seen anything like this, had never felt as if she might be blown away as though she were a feather in the wind. 

Whoever had pounded at the door was gone, seeking shelter somewhere safer. Elain felt the world tilt, though it was just another gust of wind blowing in, shoving her over the bed to crash against the bed frame. Outside, the sea seemed to stretch for miles towards the sky, whipping water and debris every which way. Elain choked back her fear and ignored the burning bruise against her spine to scramble one last time for the bathroom. The palace was made of stone, could weather this storm but Elain could not. She managed to yank open the door when she heard lightning crack against the sky and the water smash against the shore. Somewhere in the distance, she swore she heard a scream for help. 

Elain reached for the door knob before her fear overtook her and she succumbed to the blackness. 

LUCIEN:

Lucien had just managed to evacuate the city to higher ground when the hurricane ripped through the world around them. He watched, horror turning to dread, as the wind and the sea raced towards them, sweeping away everything in its path. It raged for hours, dumping buckets of water over everything and ruining the beach. Lucien didn’t have to ask Jurian for help when the storm settled, leaving gray gloom and a wash of palm leaves all over the city. The dock was intact given it was made of concrete but the majority of the ships were damaged and would not be usable for days, if not weeks. 

Jurian seemed to realize the same. “She might…she’s fine,” Jurian finally said, eyes unable to see the island in the mist. Lucien ran a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “I’ll row.”

“Are you insane?” Jurian demanded, eyeing the choppy waves around them. He was—so utterly crazed that he might have swam if he thought he could.

In the end, it was a merchant who offered up his ship for a substantial amount of gold in exchange for borrowing it indefinitely. Arina came running after them as the pair quickly untied, leaping onto the deck before Jurian or Lucien could stop them. Vassa was just behind, far more graceful than the panicked Arina. 

“Don’t say it,” Lucien warned her, lips chapped against the wind. Arina only shook her head as if she didn’t dare say I told you so, even though he would have deserved it. Arina had warned him only five days before and Lucien had brushed it off, annoyed and unconcerned. Elain would be fine…and he was more terrified than he was willing to admit that she wasn’t. 

His wife, his wife. 

He’d abandoned her for another woman and instead of just going back, tail tucked between his legs, and asking for absolution, Lucien had licked his wounds quietly at home as if he weren’t married at all.

Everyone noticed, gossiped over the missing northern princess. Frigid bitch was a common refrain. She wasn’t good enough for him and he supposed this was proof. He’d left her to die.

He was no better than Graysen in that regard.

Arina and Vassa both emitted soft screams when they saw the wreckage of the island. The palace was intact but everything else…the glass, the pools, the vegetation and glass…all of it had been ripped apart. He saw more than one body laying face down in the sand and prayed to every God his people had ever worshiped that Elain was not among them. 

The four disembarked silently, sweeping over the palm-strewn beach to gather the bodies. It was miserable work, pulling the people he knew, that he’d left behind, from an inch of sea water to lay on the beach. More burials, more grief…and no Elain. By mid-day, Lucien was drenched in sweat and strung tighter than a bowstring as he made his way indoors. He went to his bedroom first, noting the wreckage of the room, the ruined glass, the battered bathroom door. Their blanket lay crumpled inside, bloodstained and cold. She’d been here, at least. 

“ELAIN!” Arina’s voice shrieked from outside, drawing Lucien from the bedroom to the back terrace. Elain was bruised and cut, pale and exhausted from a night holed up but otherwise okay with the surviving servants. Arina had pulled her to her feet but Lucien noted she hadn’t been cloistered away from the rest of the survivors but bandaging a little boys swinging knee.

“Come here,” he murmured, well aware all eyes were on him. He would have no more gossip about his frigid wife or his hatred of her. Elain stumbled forward and Lucien caught her, pulling her against his chest for everyone to see. Look at her, he wanted to say. She survived. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, lips pressed against her scalp. Elain nodded, stiff beneath his hands. He was certain he’d find more bruises when he checked her over later but for now, she was breathing and safe and he had not entirely failed her. 

It was like pulling teeth, convincing her to leave. Elain stared at the bodies on the beach silently, even when Jurian assured her they would be buried in the city properly where everyone could mourn their loss. She didn’t want to go and he wondered if she didn’t feel a little guilty too.

Naxos had fared better than the island. No one died and only rooftops and ships were damaged. They’d weathered far worse, all things considered. Lucien had Elain walk from the docks to the palace, his hand always on her back. Everyone paused to look, to take in the bruised, battered princess. Their looks of disdain were not for her—they were all leveled at him. What kind of man left his wife alone like that, he knew they thought? What kind of man didn’t keep her safe? He wore their shame like a crown of thorns, eyes cast down so they knew there was no pride in this walk, no pleasure. 

His father was the final test, his eyes burning with disapproval. Lucien’s mother stepped forward for Elain, to sweep her away somewhere safe, to assure her this was unusual and that it had merely been an oversight but Lucien stepped in front of her.

“No,” he murmured, only looking at his father. Was he a good man or not? Did he honor his promises or not? “I’ll take her.”

His mothers russet eyes were rich with sympathy, nodding as she stepped out the entryway, shoulder to shoulder with his father. They’d raised him better and still…and still Lucien had come to try and convince another woman they could be together, leaving Elain to die. 

He couldn’t speak until they were alone in his bedroom, untouched by the damage of the storm. “Take off your dress,” he ordered, his voice hoarse. Elain nodded, fingers trembling as she undid the clasps at her shoulders. The material fell at her feet and Lucien sucked in a sharp breath. Purple blossomed over her tanned skin, spanning her ribs and dotting her spine. Little cuts screamed over the once smooth planes of her stomach and back. “I’m sorry,” he said before she could speak. “I’m so sorry.”

He waited for her soft forgiveness but Elain, naked in the middle of the room, illuminated by the creeping gloom, didn’t smile or sigh or anything. “Did she forgive you for marrying me?” Elain murmured, her question a punch to the gut.

“It’s over,” he said, not bothering to explain how it ended. “For good.”

Those same cool brown eyes watched him, her expression unreadable. “I want to see my sisters.”

“Done.”

Emotion warmed her cheeks and Elain, as if realizing she was naked for the first time, inched away from him until she had pulled the blanket draped over the end of his bed. Wrapping it around her body, Elain continued. “You’re never allowed to hit me.”

His knees almost buckled. “Done.”

Ask for more, he urged, watching her every breath, her tiny movements as she wrapped her mind around how easy it was for him to agree. She wasn’t asking him for anything he wasn’t already willing to give her.

“I don’t care if you never love me,” she whispered, tugging the blanket tight. “But I want to be your equal. Your partner.”

Lucien’s breath was ragged. “Done.”

“Done,” she repeated. “Just like that?”

Lucien snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

“Then I can come to the Summit with you in the east?”

He’d already intended to bring her, so it was easy to nod. He’d bring Arina and maybe Vassa, too, since Jurian would come. Force Arina to step into her political destiny and give Elain someone to talk to that she could trust. “Yes.”

Whatever wild thing had been writhing in her chest settled. “No mistresses, either.”

Gods and stars, that woman… “I said I wouldn’t,” Lucien all but gritted out, trying so hard to remain patient. His mother, who hadn’t been able to look men in the eyes, who had climbed through a window and battled sea and sky to get to his father, peered through Elain’s big, warm eyes. Elain, who had left her home on the promise of peace, had turned her back on her life, her culture, who had asked for nothing while he made plans for her future and still made friends and apologized for the wounds on his face— “I’m sorry, Elain.”

The cold shuttered from her gaze. “It’s not your fault.”

Forgiveness.

 Just like that. 

Elain only asked for him to consider her humanity though acted as if it were some big sacrifice. He knew he ought to get on his knees and truly beg her forgiveness but Lucien was still wary, too. 

And afraid, too.

 So, so afraid of the thought that he might have lost her. 

ELAIN:

“Run, run, run,” Elain hissed, hiking up her golden skirts to dart through the packed streets. She was late and Lucien was going to kill her when he realized she hadn’t gotten turned around, as she planned to lie, but that her, Vassa, and Arina had been up all night drinking and fell asleep in a park. Hardly princess behavior and yet Elain no longer felt like a princess. She was given far too much freedom that she’d become drunk on it and now…now she was going to embarrass him in front of the city. 

“Move,” Arina all but yelled, shoving a rather large man out of the way so Elain could continue wedging her way up to the palace where Lucien and his family stood, blessing the rising morning sun at the start of their holiest week, Panathenean. Lucien was already there, head bowed beneath the gleaming gold crown that was a larger match for the one atop her own head. He was nearly shirtless—what else was new—, his golden sandals tracking up his muscled calves and Elain had to stop staring at him as she skittered just beside him, chest heaving, sweat dripping down her bare back. Lucien glanced over at her, no smile on his lips even when he reached for her hand to ghost a kiss over her knuckles.

He was always doing things like that. It wasn’t romance so much as practicality. She knew the courtiers called her frigid and imagined her as some sort of ice queen in the bedroom. The regular folks didn’t, though. Their opinion of her had softened after the hurricane when Lucien had brought her back bruised and bleeding. She’d become one of them somehow, a regular person who was occasionally draped in heavy gold. They watched his every move, judging him when he wasn’t soft and sweet and warm like his father. 

“I missed you this morning,” he murmured against the orating priestess. Liar.  “Out again?”

“Sorry,” she lied, eyes cast downward. She’d begun to believe he wasn’t going to strike her, wasn’t going to take another woman if she wasn’t always waiting on her knees. Elain was, perhaps, taking advantage of that, at least a little. Instead of giving her a long leash, Lucien had given none at all. She was free for the first time in her life. He’d been visibly disappointed when she produced proof of her courses the week before but Elain was privately relieved. A baby would confine her back to the palace, would leash her in a different way. She wanted to be a mother…and she wanted to be a person, too. 

Elain laced her fingers through his own, squeezing another silent apology. Lucien squeezed back, raising his head to sweep his eyes over the gathered populace, praying alongside his father for continued peace. One month. In another they’d ride east to the summit and she’d see her father for the first time since he’d handed her over, she’d see Graysen…her sisters. Nesta, who was quietly positioning herself to take the north in a coup and needed support…and Feyre, who had stopped writing letters a week before. Elain wondered if Feyre hadn’t managed to slip through Graysen’s fingers. 

The service concluded with a song everyone but Elain knew the words to. She kept her head bowed and hoped no one looked too closely at her, ignoring how Lucien’s lips twitched every time his eyes cut towards her. The moment people began to scatter, Elain tried to bolt for Arina’s distinct blonde hair in the crowd. Lucien’s arm shot out, snagging her around the waist before she could vanish. He hadn’t been watching to make fun of her, then, but because he knew if he took his eyes off her, he wouldn’t see her for the rest of the day.

“Let me go,” she pleaded as he hauled her against his warm, toned body. 

“You have responsibilities,” he reminded her, his mouth hot against her ear. “You are still a princess.”

“Just barely,” she reminded him, wondering if she could trick him into releasing her by reminding him of their last shared night together in which he’d fucked her so throughly she might have been a whore. His whore, which she supposed could have been worse. I could have been better, too, but she'd take what she could get. 

Lucien grinned syrupy sweet. “You’re stuck with me today. Don’t make me chase after you.”

Elain hesitated, twisting from his grip to look up at him. “Would you?”

His eyes darkened for only a fraction of a moment and like always, he was thinking about sex. It was the one thing they had in common because it was the only thing they actually did together. Elain had her friends and Lucien had his. He did his fair share of running around and drinking though once Elain had caught him with some of the ladies of the court, head thrown back and laughter and had felt the familiar prick of jealousy. 

He wasn’t trying very hard, either, she reminded herself. It was her nature to do more than him and Elain was trying very hard to fight that. If this was all he wanted, it was all she’d give him. 

“Yes,” Lucien finally said, dragging her from her thoughts. “I would, which would hardly look good for either of us. No one wants to see what I’d do to you against one of these buildings.”

“I do,” Elain replied honestly. Lucien fucked her exactly the same without variation and after listening to Arina and Vassa describe their own exploits, Elain wanted to try something new, too. She was only too nervous to bring it up, embarrassed that he would think she was some sort of sex-starved temptress he would find distasteful.

“Let’s revisit that when the sun goes down,” Lucien all but purred, his hand sliding over her lower back with want. Elain squirmed with pleasure which clearly was doing something for him, even as he moved her through the crowd. Still his little trophy only now Lucien needed her, at least a little. He’d displeased his city once by shunning Jes and again by nearly letting her die. Jes was gone and though no one would tell her exactly why Jes had left, Elain suspected Lucien’s parents had intervened to protect their alliance with the north. She couldn’t blame them…she only wished he’d been the one to end things and not his father. It was practical and  Elain couldn’t help but like how hard Lucien had to try, this clearly beloved son, to win back the favor of the people he wanted to rule. All because of her.

Not everyone, of course, and even those who considered her one of them didn’t wholly trust her. She had too much of her fathers features for anyone to ever forget who she was. They wanted to see Lucien become his father or at least embody all the qualities that made Helion so great. And Elain couldn’t deny Helion was a great leader. He was kind and fair and patient and perhaps most of all, he openly loved his wife. It set the tone for the rest of the city and his laws that governed the way women moved through it. If he couldn’t abide by them, why should anyone else? And to that end, if his son couldn’t, what made him fit to take his fathers place? So they watched how Lucien interacted with her, balancing him on a knife’s edge. It was no secret their marriage had happened on a battlefield, no secret that Elain hadn’t known until she showed up or that Lucien hardly wanted it. He didn’t have to love her.

But he had to respect her. 

Lucien was aiming for both, in some measure. Respect and affection, at least. He kept it up in the palace and in the city, always touching, head inclined as if he were murmuring something only she could hear. He was usually boring her with the most mind numbing facts she’d ever heard in her entire life, choosing to share the history of a building while Elain nodded along, pretending he was describing, in detail, how he might lick her later. 

She wished. Equals in name only. Lucien still worked and rarely asked her opinion. She was frustrated by that, though there was little to do other than to start trailing his steps which sounded worse than any idea she’d ever had. Elain swore to herself that those promises had meant something before giving herself permission to run amok with Vassa and Arina.

Just as always, Lucien bowed his head towards her. “Do you see that lamp post over there? Back when–”

“Lucien?” Elain interrupted with that same sugary sweetness he’d hit her with earlier. Lucien’s face was so impossibly close she could have kissed him if she wanted. “Not today, okay? No one is interested in the history of limestone or kerosene but you.”

Surprise flickered over his features. “Well, what does fascinate you, wife?” she hated how he called her that sometimes, saying wife as if it were a dirty word. “Besides my cock, of course?”

“How did you end up here?” she asked with a scowl at his little comment. Elain had heard the rumors, of course, the fairy tales told to children about the evil barbarians to the south who strutted about naked as they stole women and children from their bed.

Lucien tilted his head towards the sun, rambling steps leading them from the palace to the bustling city square. “We came across the sea, like everyone else,” he finally said, hand sliding from her back to take her hand. “In truth, maybe we’ve never had peace…just long periods of a truce.”

Elain opened her mouth to tell him Graysen intended to break the treaty, that he’d promised to come back for her within six months. One had already passed without a word from her father or his prized general. Elain didn’t know if telling Lucien made her sound like a traitor for keeping the secret for so long, or an idiot for thinking he didn’t already know. Lucien certainly acted as if he expected to pick his sword up again someday. She wondered if he’d send her back, too. 

“And your city?”

“We were seafaring people,” he told her. “So a port city made sense. Trading is still our most lucrative source of income.”

He’d begun to share more with her, too. Trust. “We’re told you were once us,” she admitted, catching the smile on his face.

“Yes, I’ve heard about the vengeful barbarians coming to steal pretty princesses in the night,” Lucien teased. “I’ve been stalking you for a long, long time.”

It was his game, to pretend he’d wanted her before in some form or fashion. She thought it made him feel better about losing Jes and being forced to be with her for the rest of his life. The fantasy, no matter how absurd, gave him some small measure of control again. Elain knew without a doubt he would never have looked twice at her and if he had, it would have been to give her the same dirty look, just to be sure she saw his dislike. 

“What would you have done, if you’d gotten me away?” Elain asked anyway, only because he looked so good in his short toga with his gleaming, muscular thighs on display.

“I would have taken you in the woods like an animal and let your family listen to your breathless, panting screams begging for more,” he replied. Elain’s stomach clenched as she imagined his words, causing her to whirl around.

“Show me,” she whispered breathlessly. “I want–”

“Not now,” Lucien replied, eyes lingering over her head. “You can’t distract me from our shared responsibilities. Not yet, anyway.”

Elain inclined her head upwards, her frustration building. A whole day of this sounded like torture. Elain could see Arina and Vassa lingering, nodding for her to ditch him and come spend time with them. Lucien could, too, if the tightening grip on her waist was any indication.

“If we stay, people will start offering me fruit and meat again,” Elain complained, rounding on him.

“You don’t like fruit and meat?” Lucien challenged. Elain let him see her roll her eyes, poking his bare stomach. She almost conceded, nearly just gave in when a strange thought occurred to her.

“Is no one hungry here?”

Lucien’s steps halted, eyebrows knitted. “No. Why should they? We have more than we could ever need.”

And so had her father and yet he still collected coins and other goods four times a year. Lucien  could see it on her face. “Do they go hungry in the north?”

“It's so odd,” Elain admitted, flexing her hands to look at the knuckles, no longer bruised and bleeding from the beatings when she’d been caught dropping coins. Elain decided to tell him, angling her head to look as she said, “I used to carry coins in my pockets everywhere—”

“You still do,” Lucien interrupted, as if she were answering a question he’d been asking since they met.

“And I’d pretend to drop them as we passed. It made father so angry, he’d take this cane and—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Lucien demanded, snatching her hand to examine it. Finding nothing but smooth, unblemished skin, Lucien pressed his mouth against her fingers all the same, his kiss more apology than affection. Elain saw several elders watching, their eyes softened in approval. He was a good prince—a good man—if he could be so soft with his traitorous wife. 

“There’s no need to carry money,” Lucien assured her, keeping her hand in his as they made their way to the vast flagstone square. Bright streamers were hung high above the streets in between little lanterns that would illuminate the night once the sun set. Vendors in stalls sold their wares while throngs of people in brightly colored clothes milled around, weaving around tables and chairs set up for drinking and eating, towards a marked off space that was for dancing and musicians. It was where Arina and Vassa lingered, their patience wearing thin. Lucien had seen them too. 

“If you need anything, everyone will know to bill me your expenses,” Lucien finished. “And if you see someone starving, it is your right to drag me from the palace and make me answer for it.”

Elain tried to imagine dragging Lucien into the streets by the scruff of his neck and atone for his failures. More like, Lucien would go of his own accord and set things right. It was Graysen who popped into her mind, haughty and arrogant and so utterly incensed he would have harmed her for her insolence.

“I like having coins in my pocket,” she admitted as Lucien dropped her hand.

“Yes. You have become quite the wild thing, haven’t you?”

 She waited for his reprimand, his reminder princesses needed to act with more decorum. Instead, Lucien seemed strangely affectionate as he gestured for her to leave him. “Go on, then. Try not to cause too much mischief while you’re at it.”

Elain was already hedging away, eyes bouncing between him and her friends. “You’re sure? I can stay…”

“Are you offering?” he all but teased, watching as she slipped further and further from his grasp.

“I’ll find you later,” she lied. Lucien only waved her away.

“Yes, I’m sure you will. Go on, then.”

Elain did exactly as he demanded.

LUCIEN:

“I saw your wife earlier,” Jurian told Lucien, collapsing into a chair beside Lucien. It was just past sunset, the sky an inky purple dotted with the lanterns hanging around him. Lucien set his goblet of wine onto the table, noting there were still two empty chairs that could be filled—that would have been filled, had he and Jurian not been married. No one dared, now. No one was sure how the princess might react but everyone knew Vassa’s temper was legendary. 

“Staying out of trouble?” Lucien asked, strangely pleased Elain was somewhere in the city having fun.

“Absolutely not,” Jurian chuckled, reaching for a piece of meat on the platter in front of them. Lucien never went without and certainly not when he chose to waste a day mingling in the city. Every time his cup was nearly empty or he’d made his way through a tray of food someone showed up to replenish it without a word spoken. It wasn’t servitude but gratitude. He was their prince and in some ways, he was also their son. “They’re making their way back but it’s slow,” Jurian added. “They’ve had too much wine and sun and not enough water and food.”

Lucien turned his eyes towards the dancers, his mind wandering. Elain was an oddity, the opposite of what he’d expected when he’d gotten her. So casually used to violence and suffering that she just assumed it must be built into the world. He knew he ought to keep a leash on her, but after what she’d endured in the hurricane and his failure to protect her, Lucien had let go. He’d expected her to try and escape, had been vigilant that first week, waking each night to every little sound…and Elain didn’t budge. She’d remained in his bed, body curled around his, and when she woke she tiptoed about, making herself small as she explored.

It was Vassa and Arina who had begun dragging her about, prying her out of that shell…making her laugh and dance and talk. He’d catch them all over the city, talking loudly, making jokes and playing little pranks. Drinking in the park, sleeping beneath the stars…in some ways, he wondered if Elain hadn’t always been born to live here. 

She was wilder now—free. Free of Nolan, of her father, and that wretched, frigid city to the north. Lucien relished it, reveled in her new found sense of self, if only to rub it in the faces of her family. They’d be leaving at the end of the month for a summit he knew was doomed from the start, given Archeron’s inability to uphold the most ironclad of agreements. Lucien had almost refused to attend even after giving Elain his word, unwilling to be made a fool of again.

He’d agreed both to atone and to show Graysen that the meek, timid woman he’d once meant to marry was dead, replaced with a creature of sea and sand and salt. His wife. If Graysen meant to take her back—and Lucien was sure he’d promised to—he would have to fight all of Naxos to have her. Would have to fight Elain herself. 

“Speak of the devil,” Jurian grinned when Vassa and Arina slid into view, Elain just behind them. She had flowers in her hair and her cheeks, as they so often were, had become softly sunburned. Her hair was unbound, her crown missing. Warmth spread through his body as she passed, not seeing him at all until he grabbed her, pulling her into his lap. Elain squealed, twisting to make sure it was him before relaxing into his hold. “Who has been touching my wife?” he mockingly growled, mouth against her neck.

“Who hasn’t?” Vassa grumbled, sitting beside Jurian while Arina took the last seat, twisting to look at someone Lucien couldn’t see. “She is far too pretty to be left to her own devices.”

“To the dungeons, then,” Lucien joked, replacing the cup in Elain’s hand with icy water. Elain gulped it down without a word, her body slick with sweat and warm from the heat. 

“Arina!” Lucien called as Elain took a second glass, poured by an amused Jurian. Arina paused, about to dart into the night towards some man who likely did not deserve a moment of her time.

She scowled. “Have you decided about Velaris?”

Elain perked up. “Are you not going to come?” she asked, her voice rich with disappointment. Lucien caught how Arina’s eyes narrowed on him. Using his wife to manipulate Arina was, perhaps, unfair and yet effective. Lucien hid his smile with a kiss against Elain’s bare shoulder blade. Vassa’s gaze held on her husband, reclining in his chair to watch. “Who will keep me safe from Graysen?”

The whole table stilled at her words, all eyes turning to look. Lucien, too, tugged Elain a little tighter against his body.

“Do you need protection?” Jurian asked, leaning his elbows against the table. Elain, still overheated and drunk, didn’t realize what she’d said.

“He promised to steal me back,” she told them breathlessly, reaching for a thin piece of sliced cheese. “It would be the perfect place.”

Lucien’s eyes snapped to Jurian. They’d bring more guards than planned, then. King Rhysand had been clear—no armies in his city. A personal guard surely couldn’t hurt, not with the tenuous peace between north and south? 

Arina and Vassa seemed outraged at the notion. “He gave you up,” Arina reminded the still upbeat Elain.

“I’m on loan, I think,” she replied as if that were a perfectly normal thing. As if she were merely a book that would need to go back on the shelf one day for someone else to use. 

“Keep her here,” Vassa said to Lucien, earning a noise of displeasure from Elain.

“She’s coming,” Lucien said, if only to keep his eyes on her the entire time. He wouldn’t risk another hurricane situation, not when Graysen might linger and steal into the city. It would take him days to get to her and for all her tenacity, Elain was frustratingly easy to kill given she refused to take sword lessons with Jurian.

“I will,” Arina replied. It was unfair, given Beron’s obsession with her and the disappointment Lucien knew she felt every time she saw his son, who refused to acknowledge her at all. Half-brother. Lucien banished the thought.

“You know we wouldn’t let him take you, right?” Vassa reached for Elain’s hand, squeezing softly. Elain’s body loosened, rubbing sweetly against him. He wasn’t sure she even remembered she was perched in his lap where everyone could watch. And they were. He could feel their curious eyes on the pair of them, wondering what, exactly, lay between Lucien and Elain. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she said, looking down at the table as if she’d just admitted to some heinous crime. Three sets of eyes all fell on him, ranging from surprise (Jurian) to plaintive (Vassa) and annoyed (Arina). 

“You’re not going back,” Lucien said, looking at his friends and wondering if their opinion was truly that low of him. He’d put his penis in her, hadn’t he? Sullied her, as far as the Archeron clan was concerned, would ideally impregnate her, hopefully by the time they went to that stupid summit. Lucien was dying to announce another southern royal, a little prince to one day carry on Lucien’s legacy when he died. Lucien wanted to rub it in Graysen’s face, wanted to thank him for handing over his fertile, willing fiance for Lucien to impregnate and put all thoughts of rescuing the suffering maiden to bed. 

“I’ll go,” Arina finally said, earning a bright, happy smile from Elain. “I want to see him.”

“Well, I don’t,” Elain said plainly, resting her head against Lucien’s shoulder. “Ever.”

He wished he could give that to her. Jurian’s lips curled upwards but it was Vassa who said, “Maybe we could kill him.”

Elain stiffened and Lucien swallowed a groan. “We can’t–”

“Could we?” Elain asked, robbing him of the very air in his lungs.

“Absolutely not,” Lucien snarled, silencing the women before they said something that would get them all banned not just from future diplomacy but his fathers court in general. Openly plotting to murder the general of another territory where anyone might overhear only invited trouble. “Say nothing else. I’m taking Elain to bed.”

“But I’m not tired!” she protested as he stood, hauling her into his arms without another word. He looked at his friends, their faces masks of innocence. 

“I mean it,” he warned them, trusting Jurian to keep them in line. “Not another word.”

Lucien began walking his wife back to the palace, mind reeling. “One month,” he breathed, hating the way each step battled against his growing attraction. “One month and you’re ready to murder your beloved?”

“He’s going to try and take me back,” she told him, every inch of her blazing with defiance.

“I had no idea you were so in love,” he taunted, earning a hard poke in his throat.

“I have never had a friend who didn’t immediately tell my father everything I did or said. I know Arina and Vassa don't tell you the things I say about you.”

“There’s no need, I know my cock is large–”

“And if he does get me back, he’ll hit me and he’ll…he’ll lock me away in the cold until I forget what it was like to be here. I don’t want to go back.”

“You won’t,” Lucien growled, the sound of his shoes on marble punctuating the threat. “You will remain here with me until you die of old age, surrounded by our twelve children—”

Elain wheezed. “Twelve?”

“Yes,” he agreed, dropping her to his bed to admire her form. “I’m being practical. I want you to sit on my face,” he added when she sat up, half tangled in her gold dress. 

“What?” she asked him, watching as he began to shed his own clothes. He’d begun thinking of it when she’d asked if she would have chased him, of what he would have done if he caught her. He’d been too polite, telling himself the princess of Ellesmere did not want to be subjected to his filthy fantasies…but tonight the princess of Ellesmere was begging him not to return her home, to let her stay…and Lucien was tired of fucking her on her back. 

Her eyes snagged on his already hard cock springing out from behind his clothes pooled at his feet. “I want you to sit on my face. Grab the headboard and fuck my face.”

He expected her to balk, to protest and tell him no. He would have relented, would have yanked her to the edge of the bed and eaten her anyway, not that she needed to know. Elain rose up on her knees, pulling her dress up over her head, revealing nothing but vast expanses of tanned, perfect skin, utterly devoid of underthings. She’d given that northern custom up very quickly and Lucien was forever grateful for it. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, scrambling for the bed. He laid himself out flat, groaning softly when her hand slid over his stomach, touching him as if she couldn’t help herself. “Come here.” She swung a leg over his face, lowering her pretty, perfect cunt until she was hovering. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured, as if it were possible. Lucien yanked, hands kneading into her ass.

“Hurt me,” was all he said before he had that first taste of her. No one and nothing had ever been as good as her and even after a month, Lucien was still dizzy at the thought that this woman opened herself willingly to him. He was feral, wild with need as he began to feast, his hands touching every little bit of skin he could, holding her against him. Elain did as she was told, holding the headboard as she adjusted to this new position, to the sensation of his mouth working over her, trying to urge her to move her hips and take what she needed, what she wanted—

“Wait,” she gasped, pulling back. Lucien scrambled for her, determined he would keep her until she’d coated his face in her climax more than once but Elain was quicker, more nimble, determined even as she merely readjusted herself so her back now faced the headboard and her face stared at his rigid cock. He’d never asked her for this, had never once positioned her in such a way that she would have even considered. Not that he didn’t ache for her to crawl between his legs and taste him the way he did her, to crave that taste, to want it like he wanted her. 

She ran her hands up and down his chest, nails lightly dragging the skin. She wanted to touch, he realized. Wanted to explore, to see him in the flickering candlelight, to know what, exactly she had. Lucien’s tongue became lazy, parting her legs in an attempt to watch her slide further down his body, caressing his thighs, peppering little kisses over his abs before finally her hands curled around his cock. 

She wasted no time, licking the length of him with no hesitation, no fear. Lucien’s hips bucked in her hand. “Do you like that?” she asked, her words sultry.

“Yes,” he choked. He liked nothing more than her pillowy soft tongue teasing his shaft, swirling over the ultra sensitive head of him. Elain took her time, treating him like a piece of candy she was enjoying, exploring with her mouth and getting, he suspected, a general sense of him. He replaced his mouth with his hands, turning his head from the gleaming wetness all but shoved in his face to watch, head leaning to the side. He just wanted to see her suck him down, only once, just in case she woke in the morning fully sober and horrified with herself. 

It was obscene, the way her petal pink lips parted and swallowed him. Elain pushed him down to her throat, halting halfway when she realized she could take no more. Lucien had to force himself to not thrust anyway, to gag her on him while chasing his own lurid, burning pleasure. Instead, needing to focus on anything but his wife and her perfect, wet mouth, Lucien yanked her back against his face and began licking with a vengeance. She’d still come on his face before she swallowed the taste of him, too. She was dripping wet, proof of her want, of her enjoyment not just from his mouth but of giving pleasure, too. 

And Lucien knew, as his tongue stroked faster, her hips grinding against his face, that he would have lied, cheated, and even killed to keep this woman, for whatever that was worth. For whatever it even meant. He didn’t want to examine the fear he’d felt when she’d so casually announced Graysen meant to take her back or the relief when she’d said she wanted to stay. It was just arousal, just possession.

And it wasn’t, at the same time. His heart, bruised and broken and hurt, was being knitted back together and it had nothing to do with the exquisite slide of her tongue as she sucked him down or the roll of her cunt against his mouth. It was the easy way Elain cared about things, her soft optimism, her willingness to try even when she was scared. 

Lucien spread her pussy open, drinking in the sight of her, sliding up over her clit, swirling over and over before sucking, his lips soft. He dove into the wet heat, fucking her with his tongue only to repeat the process. He was oversensitive, climax building in his sac and eating her was only making it worse. He couldn’t hold back and couldn’t stop his mouth, couldn’t make himself pull away to take a breath and get a grip.

Elain pressed her hips against him, rubbing faster and faster as she kept pace with her mouth. Lucien groaned, the leash slipping and Elain, blessedly, came with a muffled scream of pleasure, the sound vibrating through his erection. He bowed off the bed, pouring his own hot release into her throat without meaning to. Elain took it all, pulling back when he went limp and sliding beside him on the bed. Her mouth was swollen and red, her eyes bright, her mass of loose curls a perfect, wild halo around her face.

“I want you on my face every morning,” Lucien gasped, grabbing her and dragging her against him. “I want to eat you for breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you tell me,” she whispered, ignoring his crude ask. “Vassa said…I would have crawled under your desk.”

Lucien exhaled sharply. “Tomorrow,” he whispered as Elain rolled away for a nightdress. He grabbed her.

“Naked,” he whispered, his exhaustion settling like a stone on his chest. Elain, too, was fading, her eyelashes fluttering against her sunwarmed cheeks. He expected her to grab one anyway or dive beneath the blankets to hide herself.

The last time he looked over at her, he realized she had fallen asleep, face nuzzled in the crook of his arm, naked body splayed against the mattress.

His.

ELAIN:

Elain woke beside Lucien for once, her cheek sticky against his chest. She peeled off him, naked but happy. He was splayed on his back, red hair half covering his golden face, with one hand brushed against his thigh casually. She was tempted to wake him with her mouth, to take him into her throat like she had the night before.

Later, she swore, noting the time on the wall. She’d made Arina and Vassa a promise, drunk as she was, though not so drunk she couldn’t remember in the daylight. Elain pressed a kiss to Lucien’s stubbled cheek before stealing out of bed. It was usually him creeping about in the first hours of dawn, vanishing before she had a chance to see him. Perhaps he meant it when he’d said he wanted to eat her for breakfast. 

The thought flooded through her, dampening between her legs. Later, she thought for the second time, though every part of her rebelled at the notion of waiting for some metaphorical other time when she could just beg her friends’ forgiveness.

Elain pulled a buttery yellow dress over her head without care or concern that she had no corset, no shift, not leggings or underwear or anything but the fabrics soft slide over her warm body. She’d grown too used to the freedom to move and run and breathe…to Lucien’s hands slipping under her skirt to touch. 

Her hair was hopeless, saved by a series of cords that tied it off her face and down her back in a criss-crossing fashion. It was enough for her purposes, she decided, as she gathered the things Nesta had once packed for her in that brown bag. Lucien stirred when Elain reached the door, turning on his side to look at her. His eye snagged on the bag, rousing him almost immediately.

“Are you leaving me?” he asked, his tone light but his words serious.

“For the moment,” she replied, tempted to get back into bed with him. “Meet me on the beach later?”

Lucien only nodded, his eyes never leaving her bag. It would have been far kinder to just tell him what she was doing, what they’d decided to do with her things from Ellesmere the day before, giggling and drunk as they stumbled over the burning sand. Elain had found it all so amusing the day before but in the early morning light, there was a weight to each step, to the strap slung over her shoulder.

It was rejection, not just of Graysen or her father but of the entire place, their customs, their people. She was shrugging off the life she’d been born into, of the title—princess of Ellesmere.

Elain’s throat was as dry as the sand beneath her feet by the time she reached the beach where Arina and Vassa had begun building a cheerful bonfire. She’d told herself this was her home now, her friends who were quickly becoming sisters.

And Lucien…Lucien, who had, upon hurting her, just let her go. Who swallowed his irritation or readjusted his plans if he realized she was not enjoying herself…who she liked, even when she didn’t want to. He was, despite being her purported enemy, a better match than she would ever dared hope for. 

“Ready?” Arina asked, watching Elain unzip the back and dump the contents to the ground. She only wanted one thing, the ugly iron band with the little blue stone cut in the center. She’d taken it off when she arrived, afraid the sight would enrage Lucien…afraid it would hurt her to see what might have been. It made her angry now, looking at the silver chain holding a promise Graysen had never meant to keep. 

“How does this work, again?” Elain asked, accepting the flask of water Vassa handed her.

“You say one thing you hate for everything you throw in,” Arina explained. Elain wondered if Jesminda had done something similar for Lucien when she’d been sent away. “It’s a cleansing, of sorts, a thank you to the Gods for intervening before you were trapped with someone terrible.”

Elain wrapped her hand around that chain and instead picked up the corset first. It was so rigid in her hand, the phantom feel of it against her ribs immediately drawing panic. Elain threw it into the rising flames, stepping back when the fire crackled, curling the flesh fabric in on itself and blackening it to ash.

“I hate that he stood by while father made me obedient with that whip,” Elain said, having never dared to admit that to anyone. Her friends went still beside her, eyes wide. Elain reached for another. “I hate that he punished me for trying to help.”

Another. “I hate him for what he did to Lucien's face,” and another, “I hate that he caged Feyre,” and another, “I hate that he never loved me the way I loved him.” It was that confession that broke the tether in her chest. Elain turned towards the sea, storming towards it as vicious as any hurricane, Arina and Vassa just at her feet. Elain screamed, throwing that ring into the crystalline depths, well aware it would likely just wash right back to shore. She should have asked Lucien to melt it into nothing, to grind it into dust. 

Twin hands came to rest on her shoulders and Elain, still staring out at the clear horizon, said, “I would have done anything for him.”

I would rather hang. 

Arina and Vassa pulled Elain into a hug and Elain wept, not for her stolen life or fear but in furious, bitter anger. “I would have died for him and he traded me like I was cattle.”

Elain pulled out of their grasp to look back at the fire and the rest of her things abandoned just beside, waiting to be thrown in, discarded and made ash.

At the top of the cresting sand stood Lucien in his leather armor, Jurian at his side. Sword strapped at his hip, hair pulled from his face though wisps blew in the salty breeze…and he watched without emotion, standing guard. Their eyes met and he nodded, inclining his head in a bow as if he understood why she needed to do this, why she hadn’t just told him. They stood watch, letting Elain, Arina, and Vassa continue their burning until even the bag had been discarded. Elain collapsed into the sand, exhausted and sweating. 

“I think I might be the worst kind of traitor,” she admitted, watching her clothing spew choking smoke towards an otherwise perfect sky. “But every time I imagine Graysen in this city I…”

“Lucien wouldn’t let him,” Arina murmured, clasping Elain’s hand. 

“The north has never come close to our walls,” Vassa added. 

“Lucien wouldn’t let them,” Elain murmured, closing her eyes to imagine what Lucien might be willing to give up in the name of peace. Her. The wife he’d never wanted, that he was still so stilted around, that had forced him to lose love. He could have her back, could go to Jes–

“I can hear your thoughts,” Vassa interrupted. “And you’re wrong.”

“If it was me or peace–”

“It will never be peace with them,” Arina interjected. “And we all know it. You being here…it’s just an interlude. A pretty lie wrapped up in a princesses skirt. We knew it when you arrived, we know it now. Lucien has honor, he agreed to the terms and when they break them as they always do, when they demand you back, the answer will be a resounding, furious no.”

“You’re ours, now,” Vassa added.

“Besides. Even if Lucien wanted to—and don’t look at me like that because I don’t believe he does—he could never show his face in this city again if he handed over his wife, no matter the terms. It’s not done. You protect your wife above your own life and everyone, even his own father, would rather see him die than put shackles on your wrist and give you back.”

“You’re Princess of Naxos, now,” Vassa agreed. “We would not follow him if he sent you to Ellesmere with Graysen.”

Elain turned to look at Lucien, still standing guard, still watching. “I don’t understand him,” she murmured. He would rather keep a woman he didn’t want than have his own well-deserved happiness? Neither Arina or Vassa answered, remaining tangled on the beach instead, until the fire was little more than crumbling embers scattered along the water. Servants came to put it out, to clear it away, leaving the three to trudge to Jurian and Lucien standing between the sand and stone. Was his presence symbolic or had he truly believed she meant to escape? 

Elain understood when she came before him and Lucien swept into a bow. It wasn’t mocking but sincere, and in his hands, unseen from her place on the beach, was the crown she’d lost the day before. Returned by someone who knew what it meant, put back atop her head with a reverent, murmuring, “Princess.”

Lucien reached for her hand, brushing a kiss to her knuckles while their friends witnessed, straightening his spine until he hovered over her. Prince of the daylight, of sun and sea and sand.

“Wife,” he added with a soft breath. “Welcome home.”

Elain exhaled.

Welcome home.