#'Warrior Blood' is just being descended from these four | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eywa-eveng · 2 years ago

Text

ɪ. sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴊᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʟʟʏ, sᴜʟʟʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 11.2k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – widower!Jake

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪᴠ

Sand swirls through the air like ash from a fire, waves of white flurries glitter in the sunlight, stirred up by the wingbeats of the descending ikran. One by one they each land on a small inlet, screeching their arrival as if the warning horn hadn’t been enough to draw a crowd around them. There’s four, each more intricately patterned than the last, like detailed weaving spread across their wings. Such creatures are foreign to the reefs. Aside from seldom trading among the People in the far reaches of the forest, ikran are never seen in Awa’atlu. To see them here now, unannounced, is cause for curiosity. The riders seem harmless as they dismount, the oldest of them extending his arms in a show of vulnerability. He’s easy to recognize as your eyes trace over the length of his smallest finger, one more than any other Na’vi you’ve ever known. The crowd shifts like ebbing waves as you move through them, parting to allow you to greet Toruk Makto and his family. The youngest of his daughters hides in his shadow, face half hidden behind his leg as he inclines his head towards you. It’s a surprise that he knows who you are when he offers his greeting.

“Oel ngati kameie, tsakarem.” He says your name gently. The title is an old adage from days long past, before your rites of adulthood. One that belonged to you and your sister. But she is mated to the olo'eyktan, not you. It was Ronal that he would need to show such reverence for. Still, in your sister’s stead you are the best person to speak on behalf of the clan.

“Toruk Makto, oel ngati kameie. You are a far way from the forest. What has brought you to our island?” The crowd is growing larger and their voices raise around you, questions ringing in their hushed tones. There is uneasiness in the air as warriors gather around you, unarmed but tensed in anticipation. They wear looks of curiosity and suspicion as they circle the family.

“I would like to know the same.” Tonowari says as he dismounts his tsurak, gesturing respectfully to Jakesully as your sister moves in beside him. You nod to them both. Whatever reverence Jakesully may hold for you, it will always be shadowed by your sister. She eyes the newcomers warily, catching your gaze as you move in beside her. There is fire brewing in her ocean blue eyes, something weary and distrusting as she watches her husband speak to Toruk Makto.

“We seek uturu.”

“Uturu?” Ronal asks incredulously, ears flicking upward. “And what would the great Toruk Makto need sanctuary from? What war have you started now?” You try to catch her eye as she strides across the sand to look at the children, twirling their tails over her wrist and pulling at their thin arms.

“No more war. I’m done with war. I just want to keep my family safe.” The great warrior shakes his head, lifting his daughter into his arms.

“What family is this?” She snaps, raising his eldest daughter’s hands for all to see. “These children are not even true Na’vi! They have demon blood!” The girl pulls her arms away but it is too late, the clan has seen her five fingers. But Jakesully has them, too, and is quick to flaunt it to your sister. It does little to quell her distaste as she continues to look over his children with a heavy judgment in her eyes.

“Ronal!” It is bad practice to question your elder sister, more so when she is tsahìk. The voice of Eywa rings in her words, but the Great Mother is not cruel. Ronal’s gaze snaps to you, eyes narrowed as she bares her teeth in warning. You hiss right back, ears pulling back in a display of defiance. She abandons the children to slink closer to you. Her eyes are narrowed as she snaps at you.

“You are not tsahìk. This decision is not yours to make.”

“You are being cruel. They are children. He is a father. These things should matter.” Ronal hisses again. She may be tsahìk but you have learned every lesson that she has and Tonowari knows this. His eyes watch the two of you as you circle each other until Ronal finally backs down, glaring up at her mate with a resolute shake of her head. But Tonowari is not weary of the unknown. Not as your sister is. He is kind and gentle to those that need it. A worthy olo'eyktan. They share in an unspoken conversation, staring at each other until finally Ronal relents with a nod.

“Jakesully and his family will stay with us.” He decides, reminding the clan to be mindful of their ignorance. “But they are forest people. They do not know the sea. It will be like taking their first steps, learning as a child does.” He names Ao’nung and Tsireya the childrens’ teacher before your sister turns to you with a scowl on her face.

“My sister will teach you, Jakesully. Learn well.” She says before stalking away. The crowd begins to dissipate as soon as their leaders turn their back to the newcomers, declaring them non threatening with action alone.

No matter the excitement there is still work that needs to be done and everyone moves to return to their tasks. And now you’ve been given a heavy burden. As Tsireya leads the Sully family away you mull over your new responsibilities. Teaching children is easy. It is easier to learn when you are young, but Jakesully is not young. Not as a child is. He is a warrior. Not old, still in his prime, but surely past the point of learning such simple tasks as breathing and riding an ilu. These things are easy to learn young. Of course, Jakesully will not master anything in a day and if he is as great a warrior as the stories say it will surely be shameful for him to be forced to learn as if he is a baby.

Still, Ronal has given you this order and you will fulfill your purpose as asked. Just as Tonowari said, there is great shame in being useless and it’s how you’ve always felt living in Ronal’s shadow. The People respect you but there is no need for a tsakarem as old as you. It is the title of a youngling, one that Ronal outgrew years ago. It used to feel like a crown placed upon your head. The clan needs a tsahìk just as it needs water and they have one. Ronal is healthy and young, glory to Eywa, and it makes you useless.

Tsireya will be named the next tsakarem, or perhaps another young girl of the clan. And they’d overshadow you as well. Though you can’t find it in your heart to resent your sister or niece. It is not their fault that the Great Mother’s light shines brightly through them, that Tonowari had his pick of the tsakarem and chose Ronal. It was better than an arranged mating. He had a choice and you will not fault anyone for his freedom to decide his own mate. But at times you still feel lost, like you’ve floated far from the reef and lost the way home. You seldom dwell on these feelings but Ronal snapping at you reminded you that you are not tsahìk just as she said. Whatever Jakesully’s show of respect had stirred inside you was easily squashed under your sister’s temper.

“You’re thinking awfully hard about something.” Jakesully says, drawing you from your stupor as he takes the basket from your arms. You hardly remember walking here but it is where your feet have carried you as your mind wandered. The marui is empty save for him, the children went off to train with your niece and nephew some time ago. You have nothing to say to his remark as you stand with the light of the disappearing sun warming your back. The shape of your body blankets the pod, cutting a dark shadow across the brightly woven mats. Jakesully’s eyes look a few shades darker in the warm light, yellow irises shining bright as flames as he tilts his head in curiosity. You shake your head.

“It is nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing. You didn’t even hear me say your name when you came in.”

“I’m sorry,” you greet him properly, touching your fingertips to your forehead and drawing it out towards him. «I See you.» He returns the gesture.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Actually I should thank you.”

“Thank me? It’s only fruit. The children will be hungry after swimming for so long.”

“The fruit is one thing, but I wanted to thank you for your kindness earlier. I knew your sister would be less accepting, but I hadn’t expected her to–” he draws in a deep breath, “thank you for defending my children.”

“I know your story, Jakesully. It has carried across Pandora like a song on the wind. Every Na’vi knows your name. There is no fault in your children. They look like you. I am not tsahìk,” you say quietly, “but even I can See that the Great Mother chose you for a reason. No matter what Ronal says, Eywa has not turned her back on you. You don’t need to thank me for saying it.” He laughs but it lacks humor. He sounds pained, rueful, as his ears drop ever so slightly. His brow furrows, so differently than any other Na’vi’s frown with the adage of dark brows, eyes shifting towards the burning light of the coming eclipse. There is something in the reflection of his eyes. A deep sadness. In time, he’ll learn that you were chosen as a tsakarem because your eyes See things others don’t. In everyone’s eyes is a piece of their spirit and Eywa has blessed you to know what each piece means. It is the one thing Ronal has yet to learn. This she cannot See.

“You can just call me Jake.” He says after a while. Whatever torment he’d been thinking of passes like the tide, tension rolling off his shoulders as he shakes away the darkness.

You nod, “Jake. And you can call me by name. No need to say tsakarem. I haven’t been one in years. Since Ronal mated with Tonowari. There’s only tsahìk now.”

“I wanted to show respect.” He says sheepishly, still worried about making a good impression. As if you have the power to rescind Tonowari’s granting of uturu.

“I See you, Jake. If you See me, that is enough respect. I’ll go now, I have to help prepare food for the clan, but we will begin training in the morning.” He looks as if he wants to say something more, mouth poised to ask, but he simply quiets himself with a nod.

Morning rises in shades of shell pink and sea blue, warming the woven paths hung between the marui as you go to fetch Jake. His children are still inside when you arrive. You pause in the open flap of their marui, hesitating to enter. It feels intrusive arriving so suddenly when you’ve yet to properly introduce yourself to the family, but Jake welcomes you in with an offer of breakfast.

“You made this?” You ask, accepting the food graciously, but still feeling awkward sitting down beside him. His children eye you warily, thin tails flicking in anticipation. All but the youngest whose eyes only hold curiosity.

“No,” Jake says around a mouthful, “someone brought us food this morning.” Probably one of the elders.

Both you and Ronal had been scolded by them during your meal last night. Berated for acting so childishly in front of newcomers. There was no defense for your behavior. Had it been just harsh words they’d have nothing to say but the two of you had acted in aggression like bickering children, though your mother insisted that it couldn’t be helped. Siblings are more comfortable with shows of aggression towards each other because there’s no real threat of violence between families. Unfortunately, of the Sully family, only Jake knew of your relationship. The children surely must’ve thought the two of you would swipe at each other regardless of Ronal’s pregnant state. Both of you had been scolded thoroughly, heads bowed and ears tucked in the face of your punishment. Adults turned to children before the elders of your clan. It made Ronal angrier than she had already been getting belittled as if she wasn’t an authority in the clan and she’d been glad to leave your presence when the two of you were finally dismissed.

Now it only makes sense that Jake’s children are wary of the woman that dared to stand up to the tsahìk so publicly. You offer them a proper introduction as a show of peace. They seem to settle as you name Ronal as your older sister.

“I’m Neteyam.” His eldest speaks first. Even in so few words his voice carries a cadence you recognize, an echo of someone else’s voice. His voice sounds as assured as his father’s and you wonder how much Jake’s sons must revere him, and how much they must loathe the shadow his legacy has cast over their lives. It is the same with you and Ronal, but perhaps not as heavy. Ronal is only known well within your clan. To have a father who’s name has been woven into songs must be a great burden to bear.

“I’m Lo’ak.” His second son says after his daughter turns her head away, yet not so far that you can’t see her eyes. She’s wary, confused, and filled with the light of Eywa. Truly something special but still young, still abrasive. You don’t push her to speak after she mumbles her name.

“I’m Tuk!” The youngest says, less bothered by the tension of the unknown that fills the air.

“Tuktirey.” Jake says once they’ve all eaten and Tsireya comes to gather them.

“Hm?”

“Tuk’s full name is Tuktirey.”

“Oh. Would you rather me call her that?” Perhaps you hadn’t earned the right to be so informal with them. Jake was a father, he’s protective. If this is his way of shielding them from harm you’ll comply happily.

“No,” he laughs, “she thinks she’s in trouble when you call her by her full name. I was only saying it in case you were curious.” You hadn’t been. Your names in Awa’atlu differ only slightly from those that are common elsewhere. Tuk seemed like a perfectly good name for a girl but Tuktirey sounds even lovelier.

“She’ll grow into it, I’m sure.” You says, listening to her scream as she jumps into the water. Soon Tsireya and Ao’nung will teach them to dive properly, but for now their shouting and splashing is just fine. Breathing comes first. They move like shadows beneath the water, darker skin standing out where the others disappear in the greenish-blue waves. They only make it so far before their braided heads poke out of the water, clearly out of breath long before the Metkayina children. Teaching them will take patience.

“That’s what her mother always said.” Another melancholy look takes over Jake’s face. It is not your place but even still you want to ask about his feelings. Where was his mate? Had she remained with her clan in the forest? It sounds inconceivable. To be parted from her children would surely tear at any mother’s heart.

“Where is her mother?” You ask gently. Jake’s expression crumbles then rebuilds into something empty and contained. His eyes are hauntingly empty when he turns to look at you.

“Dead.” It’s enough to make you flinch away. No matter how much you want to pluck the petals from this flower to see what’s at the center it’s clear Jake doesn’t want to speak of it any longer. It’s only fair. Losing a mate is a terrible pain. There are more questions in your head but you ignore them. It is not your job to soothe his spiritual wounds. You’re not tsahìk. Instead you lead the way out of the marui to a quieter area of the water.

“We will learn here. If you want to live here the ocean must become like a second home. You said you could adapt, this is your first step to change.” He nods. He looks restless, bouncing lightly on his feet as he waits for your instructions. He’s clearly eager to learn, eyes suddenly bright with almost childlike anticipation. Even his tail seems to move with rapt interest. It’s endearing to see him so open to learning your way of life, to truly becoming one with the clan.

The ocean is as warm as the sand as you step in. The water swallows you, up your ankles and knees, hips and shoulders until you disappear beneath the gentle waves. Threads of white sunlight pierce the water, dancing in rippling ribbons across the backs of passing animals as you swim farther out. You surface quickly and gesture for Jake to follow you. He clambers through the shallow water awkwardly before disappearing beneath the waves. He moves with more precision in the water. Despite his form being made for balance and agility on land he moves well, with strong strokes that cut through the water. You sink beneath him as he approaches, watching his shadow pass overhead. He only stops when a few sloapek swim into his path, slowing down at the sight of the horned fish. He turns to look for you, brows raised in surprise. The childish glow returns to his face as he watches the animals swim around him.

«They are safe. Sloapek don’t harm Na’vi.» You sign to him, realizing belatedly that he can’t understand you. He tilts his head inquisitively before gesturing that he needs air.

“What were those things?” He asks when you both surface.

“Sloapek. They don’t bother Na’vi. Most of the animals are docile, especially this close to shore. It’s only outside the reef that you need to worry. Even tsurak are safe if you don’t bother them. Like your forest banshees. They’re a hunter’s mount. If you wish to learn that you’ll need to ask Tonowari. Ilu I know but skimwings are something meant to be taught by a proper warrior. I learned to complete my rites, but I am not a warrior.” You say, tracing the shape of your first tattoo spanning from the right side of your chest to your shoulder. “Learn well and you will receive your own tattoo when all your rites are passed.”

For all of your doubts, Jake learns well. Despite his thinner limbs he is a strong swimmer, something he said he was taught long ago. He hasn’t said that he learned when he was still one with the tawtute but it is what you suspect. His body knows how to move and yet his lungs are like a baby’s. Whatever he learned then was not taught to his new body. He can swim only for so long, though he’s getting better with each day as he builds his strength and stamina. As are his children. Kiri seems to be learning the quickest as the days pass and she’s finally become comfortable enough to speak with you as she would her family.

“What type of wound is this?” She asks, stretching to lean over your shoulder. It is easy to see where the hunter is wounded. It looks as if something has taken root beneath his skin, sprouting and spreading like faintly glowing rivers. The barb of whatever stung him is blessedly gone from the wound. The mark of it is shallow and you mix a salve to soothe the stinging.

“Most likely, a barb from a nettle coral. They are stone trees outside the reef that have stinging spikes. They’re usually hard to remove because they’re barbed. Luckily it did not stick.” She draws closer in excitedly, always keen to learn something new about the world around her. Her chin rests on your shoulder, hair tickling your ear as she leans over to watch you work.

“What are you mixing?” She asks with rapt attention. You list off the things as you add them to the bowl, reminding Kiri not to forget to maintain pressure on the man’s wound even as she’s distracted. If he shares your sister’s distrust of Jake and his four fingered children he says nothing as her hand keeps his blood inside his body while you mix his salve. When it is ready you let Kiri smell the bowl. She mentioned liking the scent of medicine as it reminded her of home, of her grandmother and the “lab.” You’re still not exactly sure what a lab is but it was a place of solace for her. The first conversation you shared with Kiri started because you smelled of something familiar, an almost human-like substance, she said, that filled the lab with a sharp, clean scent. It had only been a few plants to settle a child’s stomach but she appreciated the smell nonetheless. Now she’s become your shadow when Ronal is occupied with other duties, leaving the healing of lesser wounds to you. Her yellow eyes are rapt with attention as you carefully cover the hunter’s wound with the soothing balm. It will stop the stinging and help with healing but the path of the shock will scar like a tree growing up his torso. You dress the wound carefully and remind him to rest as he leaves the marui.

“Sa’tsmuke,” Ao’nung’s voice carries as he rushes into the healing tent. Kiri stiffens beside you as she rinses the blood from her hands. There’s still a heavy bruise beneath his eye from his earlier fight with Neteyam and Lo’ak but he doesn’t seem to be otherwise injured.

“What is it?” Ao’nung eyes Kiri warily, shifting awkwardly with his eyes towards the ground. “Ao’nung, what is it?”

“Lo’ak is missing.” He mumbles.

“Missing?” You’re on your feet before he can explain. “Ao’nung, it’s nearly eclipse. Why did you wait so long to speak? Where did you last see him?” He mutters something else, turning his face away from you. Whatever he’s done he is trying to keep his eyes hidden. You lift his gaze with a firm hand under his chin and all that shines in his pale blue eyes is guilt.

“What have you done? Where is Lo’ak?”

“Near Three Brothers.” He says finally, eyes downcast as he shifts in the face of your ire.

“Three Bro–Ao’nung! You took him beyond the reef?” His shoulders sag in shame. “There is no time for this. You will be dealt with later. I will go find Lo’ak. Kiri.” She doesn’t take her eyes off Ao’nung, gaze bright with anger, but her ear ticks in your direction. “Take him to your father. Have him say exactly what he told me.”

She nods, gripping Ao’nung tight by his arm so he won’t wrestle away from these consequences. You’ve known your tsmuke’itan to be brash and hotheaded, still going through the throes of growing and becoming a man, but this is beyond something you’d expected of him. If he is here now it means he abandoned Lo’ak. Left a newcomer outside the reef with no knowledge of how to return home. As Kiri pulls him away you hiss, mock clawing at his face in a show of frustration. He doesn’t flinch, knows you wouldn’t harm him despite your anger, but his ears fall back in a show of submission. He knows what he’s done.

Eclipse closes in as you call your ilu, and you consider lighting a torch but riding underwater will be quicker, so with a yip you set out with only the dimmed sky as your guiding light. Three Brothers isn’t too far beyond the safety of the reef. Your ilu feels the urgency in your body through tsaheylu, swimming as fast as she can manage beyond the safety of the seawall terraces. The only light so far from land is that of Pandora, the animals twinkling beneath the dark water and the stars sparkling overhead, Naranawm ever present in the sky. Your voice echoes over the sky as you call for Lo’ak, praying to the Great Mother that he hasn’t drowned or been attacked.

“Lo’ak!” This time there is a splash, like something hitting the water a distance away. Weary of the darkness but worried for Jake’s son, you move towards it, hoping it isn’t an akula tempting you into a trap. In your haste you left for open waters unarmed saved for your knife. Now is not the time to be caught in a predator’s sights. Something small moves through the water, small enough to ease the thoughts of a hunting animal. As the silhouette moves through the pale ripples of starlit waves you find familiar shapes outlined by a scattering of freckled light.

“Lo’ak!” He follows your voice, allowing you to pull him onto your ilu. He doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as you’d expected him to be after spending half of the day outside of the reef’s gentle waters. Tsireya must’ve taught him well. He’s quiet as you start back towards the island, urging your ilu forward at a gentler pace. For a while he doesn’t say anything and you realize he won’t. You’ve seen Lo’ak’s eyes before this. He feels lost, othered. A withered sapling at the foot of a towering tree, always fearful of being a disappointment. But you are not his father.

“You don’t owe me silence, Lo’ak. I know what ma tsmuke’itan did. He came to me himself. If you are angry you can be angry. If you are frightened you can be frightened. If you are upset you can be upset. I will not scold you for speaking your heart. Ao’nung was wrong. He mistreated you. Whatever you feel is alright.” He’s quiet still before letting out an unsteady breath.

“I want to go home.” He says finally. His voice sounds small and you’re reminded that he’s still a child. His arms tighten around your waist as his head falls against your back.

“I’m sorry, Lo’ak. I know this was not your choice but Awa’atlu is your home now. The Metkayina are your family.”

“Doesn’t feel like much of a family.” He grumbles. “No one Sees me. Demon blood, alien, that’s all they see.” He bites out, hands tightening to fists as anger builds in his voice. You don’t discourage it. Most of the clan has kept away from the Sullys but those that don’t have largely been unkind in their approach. Even Ao’nung and his friends have made the children feel alone in this new place. But they are not aliens. Even if they carry the mark of the skypeople they were born and raised as Na’vi in the forests of Pandora. They’re no more human than you are.

“Lo’ak, if it means anything, I See you.” Every part of him is fighting to be seen. He is not just the son of Toruk Makto, he is not just a companion to his elder brother. He is Lo’ak. A person in his own right. You See this. He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride, doesn’t confirm or deny his belief that your sacred words hold meaning. Instead he falls quiet as if he’s waiting for something. He seems to know what will happen when you return. The shoreline is alight with torches when the two of you arrive. Jake and Neteyam are waiting with them. Lo’ak is lifted from the water by his brother as Jake pulls you up as well. He’s quick to check Lo’ak for injuries.

“He’s fine.” He declares to the crowd gathered around. “Just a few scratches, he’s fine.” And quieter he asks, “What were you thinking?” Lo’ak stares at his father, jaw clenched as he awaits his punishment.

“No.” Tonowari says. “Ao’nung knows better than to go outside the reef. The fault is his.” He pushes his son down to kneel. A look passes between the two boys. Something aside from the usual look of confrontation. There’s a budding understanding between them. Both of them look at you for a moment before Lo’ak raises his chin defiantly.

“I was the one that wanted to go beyond the reef. Ao’nung tried to stop me.” The quick glance is explained as Lo’ak lies to his father, protecting Ao’nung from the shame of being so publicly disciplined. Jake grabs Lo’ak’s wrist and pulls him towards their marui. The men nod to each other and your sister catches your eye, looking between you and Jake as he reaches over to usher you away as well. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to know she’s curious as to how far your relationship with Jake and his children goes. It isn’t a conversation you’re ready to have. The waves of your hair shield your face from her as you follow behind the Sullys. Lo’ak tries to speak before he’s berated further.

“You told me to make friends with these kids. That’s all I’m trying–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Jake cuts off his defense. “You are a shame to this family.” Lo’ak’s face falls and his gaze shifts to you. You want to reach out and hold him, to comfort him, but he turns away before you can. His stomping strides carry him further down shore, away from his home. Neteyam’s lips press into an irritated line before he goes off after him. It is what Jake expects of his eldest son but Neteyam looks to be exasperated, tired of having to be the one to bridge the gap between his father and brother.

When Jake spoke to his son, the voice of an olo'eyktan replaced that of a father’s. Right now Lo’ak is not his son. He is a warrior that has stepped out of line, defied orders. You stop him from following them with a hand around his wrist, quickly removing it when you realize what you’d done.

There have been small touches between the two of you but never something as direct as this. You are not his mate. It is not your job to soothe his anger or protect his children. You take a half step back, readying to return to your own marui as night settles deeply over the island. Jake’s ears relax as he catches you retreating. Now he grabs your wrist to keep you beside him. He’s still angry. It’s evident in the tensed line of his muscles and the hard set of his jaw. His dark brows are drawn low over his eyes and for a fleeting moment you see Lo’ak in his expression. It pains your heart to see that they are so similar and yet so different.

“He is upset, Jake. You have to see that.” It’s all you can do to defend his son. You look to where they’ve both disappeared to, seeing Ao’nung join them on the beach. You hope this will put an end to the antagonizing between the clan children. When you turn back to him, Jake is already looking at you, anger bleeding from his face the longer he stares. His grip on your wrist, though not harsh, loosens, as his hand slides up your forearm to pull you closer.

“I thought we’d lost him.” He says quietly, eyes wet with unshed tears. You wonder what he sees as he looks at you, if he realizes who you are. “We” he said. As if Lo’ak was his and yours. Perhaps he’d meant his children but the way he holds you says otherwise. “Thought I’d lost you.”

“I can never be lost. The sea is my home.”

“The forest was our home. But home isn’t always safe. When Kiri told me you left alone–” he stops himself from speaking his fears into the air between you. “I can’t do that again. I can’t lose anyone else.” His words are only a whisper, haggard and desperate. He suddenly sounds his age as his thumbs stroke against your arms. Whatever he’s feeling goes far deeper than you had expected.

In the few months since their arrival you’ve spent almost every waking moment with the Sully family. At first you thought it was simple diplomacy outside of your lessons. Befriending the third most important clan member would solidify their standing even if tsahìk did not fully approve of their joining the clan. But Ronal was past her tantrum. She was wary but not completely unkind as she had been upon their arrival. A tenuous thread of understanding has formed between them and you wonder now if that thread is spun by your own hand. If your sister would have tempered herself so soon if not for your open acceptance.

The Sullys accepted you as well, but only now do you realize how open their hearts have truly been.

“I am here. I’m safe. We’re safe.” It’s all you can say as Jake seems to bask in your simple presence. He doesn’t touch you aside from holding your arms in his, though part of you wonders if he wants to move closer. You want to. So desperately do you want to close the distance between the two of you, to lay your head on his shoulder and promise that everything will be alright. But he is not yours to comfort, nor are his children. It is because you are still tsakarem to them that they open their hearts and bear their vitra to you. Slowly, you pull away.

“I am tired. I’ll go first.” You say, head bowed to avoid what you might see in Jake’s eyes. You spare a quick look in the marui and wish you hadn’t. Tuk is sleeping curled up against Kiri, the elder gently cradling her sister’s head as they sleep. It squeezes at your heart. The weight of Jake’s eyes follows as you retreat, ears drooped in reflection of your soured mood. Part of you wants to pray. To visit the Cove of the Ancestors and seek solace in the voices of those that came before you. But what they would tell you is no different than what you already know. Jake had his mate. She is gone but her place will always be in his heart and her memory leaves no room for you. Clinging to the edge of a family that doesn’t need you won’t fill the void of not having your own.

Everyone had given up courting you shortly before Ronal became tsahìk, when Tonowari began sending courting gifts in pairs before choosing your sister. No one wanted to overstep with their future olo'eyktan and now you’re far too old to be courted. Any man that wanted you would’ve made his desire known years ago. So you return to your empty marui to sleep alone, fending off thoughts of the man you wish could be yours.

The avoidance starts small. Instead of joining Jake for your lessons you encourage him to seek out Tonowari to learn to ride a skimwing. As you’d expected he hadn’t been keen on starting with an easily mastered ilu. When the children ask you to teach them you turn them towards Ao’nung and Tsireya. After the Three Brothers incident the relationship between the children seems to have improved. Lo’ak invoked an understanding between him and Ao’nung. One that your tsmuke’itan has not taken lightly. Your days return to how they’d been before the Sullys’ arrival, busying yourself with menial tasks until you’re needed for something. But it only lasts for so long before Tuk finds you feeding the ilu, half of her hair undone from its usual braids as she wades over to you. The water is up to her chin as she pouts at you.

“Sa’nok!” Your heart leaps in your chest at the title but you quickly remind yourself that Na’vi children often call their teachers mother. “Can you help me with my braids? I tried to do it myself but I can’t.”

“I see that.” You say, drawing your fingers through her disheveled hair. She stays to help you feed the ilu, giggling as they carefully snap the fish from her little hands. When your basket is empty you put her on your hip and carry her back to her marui, stopping at your own home to grab your box of hair ornaments and combs. Jake is there when the two of you arrive and you hesitate to enter, mumbling a soft greeting as you pass him. It’s clear on his face that he has something to say but he keeps it to himself, sharpening the spear in his hand with more force than necessary as you undo the rest of Tuk’s braids. She had only taken out a few before deciding to seek help and the loose hair sticks up around her head like sprigs of grass as you try to pick through the tangles she’s caused trying to do it on her own.

“Alright go wash your hair.” You say, patting her shoulders. She jumps to her feet immediately, probably happy for the brief freedom before she’ll be stuck in one place for the long while it will take to braid her hair. As soon as she’s gone Jake tosses aside the spear that’s long since been honed to a perfect point. For a moment both of you only sit, waiting for the other to move. There is nowhere for you to go. If you leave, Tuk will come looking for you again and you’d be right back here to face him one way or another. He stands with the fluidity of a rising wave, ready to crash over you as he walks inside.

“Where have you been?” He asks plainly. From his height his gaze falls over you like cold water and a shiver dances up your spine despite the sunlight still spilling in from outside.

“I have been busy. Did Tonowari not tell you?”

“You didn’t tell me.” He snaps. Behind him his tail sways in tense arcs as he begins pacing. “You can’t just disappear like that.”

“I didn’t disappear. I was busy.” You say again. It does little to calm him.

“If you’re not going to be around, you tell me. Don’t just disappear without saying anything.” His words make you feel like a child being scolded. It wasn’t as if you’d left the reef. If he had simply asked someone would’ve told him where they’d last seen you on any day he might’ve been curious. Whether you were tending to less urgent wounds or helping younglings learn to swim in the shallow tide pools, you never went where you couldn’t be found. Because truthfully you had hoped he would look for you despite your avoidance. Tuk coming to find you had been a blessed excuse to see him without having to go to him with your tail between your legs, ashamed of your own feelings.

“I’m sorry.” He tuts at that, looking away for a moment before he finally kneels before you. He sits staring at the treads of the mat beneath his feet, locs falling over his shoulders before finally looking up. His face is creased with worry, a line gathering between his brows as remorse shines in his eyes.

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh I was just worried about you. It went from seeing you everyday to not at all. That–just tell me when you’re not gonna be around, okay? I want to know where you are.” His hand moves to hold your arm like he had when you brought Lo’ak home. His five fingers soothe over the rippling pattern of your skin as you wonder what he was going to say before he stopped himself. His eyes are still full of worry and guilt but there’s a fleeting hint of grief there too. The feeling of wanting to pluck away at his layers surfaces again but you resist the urge to ask. It is not the time nor is it your place. Of course you’ve grown close in the time since his arrival but it isn’t nearly long enough to ask what you want to know, to dig at his wounds when you can’t tell how long they’ve been healed. Whatever is ailing his soul has nothing to do with you no matter your desire to help soothe the spiritual pain. It is in your nature but if he wanted help he’d ask and the words have yet to leave his mouth.

Even still something has shifted between the two of you. These gentle touches feel different than before. This isn’t guiding or teaching; this is purely for the sake of closeness as the two of you sit in heavy silence. So many words linger inside you, almost being spoken yet never leaving your lips. It isn’t until Tuk returns with sun-dried hair that you part. Jake says something about returning spears to Tonowari, not turning to face you and his daughter as she climbs into your lap.

The last bead is finally threaded into her hair just in time to send her off with her brothers when they come to fetch her, saying something about visiting the Cove of the Ancestors. It’s nearly eclipse but the floating mountains and glowing trees always look most beautiful when the sun is hidden. You take your time to clean up the mess made while fixing Tuk’s hair. She’d rooted through your entire collection of beads and ornaments, picking her favorites. She’d been excited to show her brothers, bragging about how she had pretty shells mixed into her hair, too. It was endearing to see her so happy to be wearing part of your clan’s traditional dress even if it was something small.

“You’re still here.” Jake says as you set the last comb back into the box. He sounds relieved.

“I only just finished with Tuk’s hair. She left with Neteyam and Lo’ak as soon as I was done. I’ll leave now.”

“You don’t have to. Stay and eat with me.” He says, gesturing to the food set out. Someone had brought another meal to feed the Sullys while you braided Tuk’s hair. She was happy to sit still while she was eating, no longer squirming with childish impatience as you worked. There is still enough food left for the rest of the family and Jake hands you a portion before you can refuse. Your fingers brush his as you take it from him and it makes you linger for a beat longer. In the gentle silence of your shared meal you finally gain the courage to ask one of the question you’ve been wondering about since you first met Jakesully.

“What was it like riding toruk?” There have been only six riders since the time of the First Songs and here is one of them before you. You try to keep the awe from your voice. While riding toruk is a feat of legends it is only done in times of great strife. Jake wasn’t Toruk Makto because he simply wanted to be. It is a great responsibility that he took on. One that easily could’ve led to his death had he failed. And surely many had failed before.

“Terrifying,” he decides, laughing humorlessly. “Riding him was different than riding an ikran. There was so much at stake. And knowing what it meant to ride him, that power and what I needed it for; that was terrifying.” He laughs again, a small chuckle but it doesn’t sound as empty this time. “That’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that to anyone.”

“That you were afraid?” He nods. “I don’t fault your fear, Jake. Even the mightiest warriors feel scared sometimes. There was much to lose in that battle. The whole of Pandora would’ve mourned the loss of the Tree of Souls. That was a heavy burden for you to carry but you succeeded.” He nods. He’s heard you but it does not seem like he believes your words.

“Have I?” He mutters softly, so softly that you wonder if he meant to say them at all. But before you can ask Neteyam’s voice rings through the hush of the night. The rest of the children follow him, kneeling just outside the marui as Neteyam gently lays Kiri down. She isn’t moving and the light that should be glowing brightly in the darkness is dim beneath her skin.

“What happened?” You ask, already moving to check over her. She is breathing but her eyes don’t open when you lift her arm. Her muscles feel tense beneath your fingers, tightening when you try to move her even slightly.

“We were all connected to the Spirit Tree but Kiri started shaking and then she stopped moving. She wouldn’t wake up.” Tsireya is close to tears as she clings to Lo’ak’s arm. His face is set in a harsh frown but his fear is evident in his eyes. They all look scared and Tuk cries as she clings to her father. Jake holds her tightly as he looks to you for help.

“Go get your mother.” You say to Tsireya but Jake stops her.

“No. You are here. You’re tsakarem. Help her.” He says. “Please.” His eyes are pleasing as he cradles Tuk to his chest, kneeling beside you once more. If he trusts you to do it then you will care for his daughter.

Her heart beat is slow as you press your ear to her chest, and her breath rattles with the familiar sound of drowned lungs. That is easily fixed. It is one of the first things you learned to heal. With two fingers you draw sweeping lines from her waist up to her chest then from her neck down to her heart before blowing air against her navel. It takes a few passes before her lungs open and she coughs up the water. She doesn’t wake as you dry her face but her heartbeat sounds stronger and her breathing comes easier. Her body is less tense as you try to move her arms again but she is still twitching almost imperceptibly.

“She will sleep. I can’t say when she’ll wake. If she isn’t awake by morning I will call for Ronal.” Jake nods and lays Tuk down beside her. The little one has tired herself out with tears, cheeks still wet as she curls up next to her sisters.

“You two return home.” You expected Tsireya to be slow to part with Lo’ak but even Rotxo seems to hesitate in leaving. A true bond has been made between all of them and you are glad to see that the Omatikaya children are finally being treated with Metkayina respect and care.

“Come.” Jake grabs your wrist as you pass him to take the children home.

“Come back?” It’s a question. Desperation is clear in his tone as he stares into your eyes. He’s terrified. You can see it in his eyes. The fear of a father who can do nothing to protect his child. There’s no enemy to fight, no battle to win. Whatever has harmed Kiri is intangible and the feeling of futility shines in his eyes. You nod, and slowly he lets you go. It feels as if he’s uncertain about letting you leave at all. But you do, taking Rotxo to his parents and Tsireya to hers.

“Do not mention Kiri. I don’t want to worry your mother needlessly. If she has not improved by morning then I will call for her help.” They nod and Tsireya hugs you before entering their marui, sitting down quietly next to her brother.

“Tsmuke,” Ronal says when she sees you.

“You are growing.” A small smile finds its way to your face as you take in how much her stomach has grown in the time since Jakesully’s arrival. The two of you have been apart for the long weeks, months, since the Sully family joined the clan. At first it was stubbornness. Neither of you wanted to admit that the other was right as you took opposing views of the displaced family. Now it is simply the duty of teaching them. Ronal has the clan to tend to as you worry over the newcomers. She had no time for them and so she had no time for you, either.

“Is he waiting for you to come home?” She asks when you finally turn to leave. You pause in your retreat but don’t turn around. Your home is not with Jakesully. Every night you leave to return to your own lonely marui. And Ronal knows this.

“That is what I thought.” She says after a moment, likely seeing the way your body has sagged in the wake of her question. Your tail has stilled and your ears have fallen flat against your head, though that at least is hidden by your hair. When you turn, fists clenched, she is already going inside. It’s a game you’ve both played since you were young. If she turns before you leave you’ll know if her words were meant to be as scathing as they sounded, but she holds firm. Her eyes stay hidden. Not sitting or turning before you lose patience and storm away. It could’ve been a simple question, but if she meant to insult your interest in a mated man she has done it.

As if you don’t already know that your feelings are wrong. This budding desire is as useful as putting a single drop of water on a fire. You’ll burn away and turn to steam and he’ll burn on, unbothered by your infatuation. Whatever comfort he’s seeking from you now is that of a friend. It has to be because you won’t let your heart consider that he could feel something more. He had his mate. She might’ve joined Eywa before her time but she was his and he was hers. There was nothing you could do to change that.

The boys are asleep by the time you return and Jake is sitting with his feet in the water, eyes trained on the horizon. He looks up at your approach and you watch as his shoulders relax in relief.

“I thought you forgot about us.” The words you want to say are too much for this quiet moment so you simply shake your head as you sit down next to him.

“I called in some old friends. They’re going to come look at Kiri in the morning.” You look at him questioningly. Neteyam had said that the ride to Awa’atlu took many days. No clan could spare their tsahìk for that long. Not even for Toruk Makto.

“Friends?”

He nods, “Human friends. The ones that stayed when the skypeople left.” It’s an instinctual response to hiss at that. You feel yourself bare your teeth before you can gather your feelings. Jake was human once. If he trusted them to treat his daughter then you could trust them to be near your clan. But there is still a piece of you that loathes the thought of tawtute coming to your home. He doesn’t rebuff your harsh response, only reaching to run his thumb over the back of your hand. You want to flip your palm upward, to catch his hand in yours. It would be strange to hold his hand. You can’t thread your fingers as you would with anyone else but his hand is strong, comforting. Your grip tightens on the edge of the path overhanging the water to keep from acting on the thought.

The humans arrive soon after sunrise, stirring up more clouds of sand as their strange, black ikran descends from the sky. It isn’t truly an ikran but you aren’t sure what else to call the strange ship.

“Keep them back.” Jake instructs before moving towards the thing still stirring the beach. The small crowd gathered is happy to comply as you usher them away from the loud, buzzing thing. A dreamwalker steps out in his human garbs, though there are pieces of the Omatikaya decorating him as well. A necklace, an armband, even a knife across his chest like a proper warrior. And his feet are bare. The second man to leave the buzzing beast is human. His face is covered in a clear mask and he wears no Na’vi adornments. They all speak in frantic tones before they take what they need from the strange, hollow beast and start following Jake. He catches you by the elbow as he passes, a clear sign for you to join them. They’re watched by everyone that they pass and the human is the first to duck inside the marui, seemingly glad to be in a somewhat hidden space. He greets the children before Jake sends them away. They only go as far as being out of the way, standing vigilant just outside the open flap. You wish to join them but Jake pulls you with him as they begin their human treatment.

Kiri is not like you. You know this. It’s plain to see in her five fingers and the low placement of her tswin. She has part of the skypeople in her, but she’s spoken so freely of her mother in the time she’s spent with you. She wasn’t Jake’s mate but his friend. A woman that taught the Omatikaya children about earth and learned about Pandora in turn. She treasures Eywa’eveng just as any Na’vi does. She was careful and curious and she gave her life trying to help Jake protect it. It’s no wonder she gave birth to someone so in tune with the Great Mother. Grace. Kìreysì.

The human and the dreamwalker fret over Kiri, seemingly making no progress as the three of them speak in their human language. It means nothing to you though, your ears only able to find your own name amid the flurry of foreign sounds. The children seem more in tune with the conversation, ears twitching as they listen just outside the marui. After so long with Kiri not so much as flinching as they move and poke at her with sharp needles you stand to leave. The tiny man looks up from his strange, bright and moving plate. It glows against his brown skin but it isn’t a glow that you’re used to. It seems too bright, too harsh. Unnatural. He looks just as uncomfortable as you feel but you can’t be sure. There’s nothing to see in his brown eyes beneath the two masks he wears.

“I am going to get Ronal.” Jake calls after you but you’ve already decided. His friends have done nothing but make noise around her. Ronal will see to whatever is harming her, quicker than they ever could. You find her in the healing tent, working over the back of a young hunter.

“He was met with an akula.” She says as you watch her cover the long gashes along his back with a healing salve.

“Kiri needs you.” Her hand pauses at your words.

“What is wrong?”

“She was shaking uncontrollably last night while at the Spirit Tree. She swallowed water.”

“You can heal her easily.” She concedes.

“I have cleared the water from her lungs but she hasn’t woken up. Whatever made her convulse is still inside her. I’m not knowledgeable enough to help.” Ronal clicks her tongue at that.

“Whatever I know, you know.” She sighs when you don’t leave. “I will be there as soon as I am done here.” You nod and leave her to her work, returning to the Sully marui.

“What are they saying?” You ask Neteyam.

“He doesn’t know.” Lo’ak says, satisfaction clear in his tone. “I am better at English than him.”

“Then what are they saying?” His smug attitude fades immediately.

“They don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Hah!” You growl. None of the children react but the two outsiders look up at you. The dreamwalker only looks confused but the human flinches as if there’d been a threat in your frustrated tone. Jake looks at you for a moment before holding out a hand for you to join him.

“Where’s your sister?” You wrinkle your nose at him. Jake has always had a slight accent, tongue still failing to perfect certain words with the ease of a child taught since birth. His children don’t carry his same inflections but if you had noticed it before it’s disturbingly prominent now. It strips away a bit of him, revealing the man he used to be beneath it. Human, dreamwalker. Part of you wants to know that side of him to better understand the man he is today but then your eyes trail wearily to the strange things that now fill the marui with lights and sound and it suddenly feels too overwhelming to ask. Ronal arrives as Jake speaks to his friends, looking between the three men before her eyes land on you.

“I see that I am not needed.” You’re on your feet in an instant, snatching up her arm before she can leave.

“You are tsahìk.” She understands your words, your trust in her and hesitancy towards the foreign men. In this matter you stand with her in a shared distrust. Whatever they are doing is not helping. But this is what tsahìk does. She stares at you for a moment, eyes uneasy.

“Remove these things.” She says it to you but her voice is loud and unflinching, though it’s doubtful the human understands her.

“Out!” You hiss when they do not move away from Kiri.

The dreamwalker moves first, then Jake says something in his human tongue to get the other man to listen. They work quickly in the shadow of you and your sister, leaving Kiri to be properly cared for. Tuk runs in as soon as they pass her, hand grabbing yours as Ronal sets her healing tools beside Kiri. She asks for the tent to be closed off, all of you keenly aware of the two outsiders standing just beyond the open marui. This is not something for them to witness. Jake complies, leaving the three of you inside with Kiri as he closes the flap. Ronal looks over Kiri, mumbling a prayer to herself as she does the same as you did last night. She moves her limbs, testing her body as she tries to find what is harming it. When she does she goes to work immediately. Her tools aren’t strange. They are pieces of your everyday life. She doesn’t pierce her skin as they had, and doesn’t need their strange glowing and noise to work. She calls on the Great Mother to guide her as she begins to heal the child.

It takes much time and you begin to sing a working song to fill the tense air and cover the sound of the human words coming from outside. It doesn’t distract Ronal as you sing about the ocean and Eywa. It’s a song meant for fishing, for working on the great seawall terraces, for weaving clothes, and sharpening weapons. It’s an idle song to fill the time and you sing it quietly as Ronal works, blowing great gusts of air against Kiri’s skin. With one last exhale like a great tulkun’s breath she sits back heavily as Kiri begins to shift. You’re at the child’s side in an instant, brushing her hair from her face as Tuk takes her hand. Her eyes are barely open before she begins to cry.

Her hand reaches out for you as she finally recognizes your face above her, wanting to be held as your sister collects her things. Ronal rests a hand on your head as Kiri hugs you, Tuk worming in between your bodies. There is meaning in your sister’s touch that doesn’t need to be said with words. Take care of her, her touch says, before she leaves. You watch her go and she glares at the outsiders as she passes but as soon as she does Jake is moving to gather the three of you into his arms.

“Thank you, Great Mother.” You whisper against Kiri’s hair. Whatever has happened she is awake now. She will heal. It takes a long while before she is comforted enough to let go. She sits quietly, picking at the food Tsireya brought for her. The children fill the marui, all seven of them crowded together as they try to rouse Kiri from her low spirits. It leaves you outside with Jake and his strange friends. Jake introduces you and you’re surprised to hear their names. Norm the dreamwalker and Max the human. These are things you can say easily. Jake’s name still sounds a bit strange on your tongue, the sound of it just as complex as Grace’s name had been when Kiri first taught you. Their names sound rounded to start, but your tongue wants to make a sharper sound. But Norm and Max. These sounds you know.

“May the Great Mother smile upon our first meeting.” Norm says, gesturing towards you. «I See you.» Max says something in his human tongue–English, Lo’ak called it–but you just tilt your head. You can’t understand him any more than you understand a chittering ilu.

“He said it’s nice to meet you.” Jake says, laughing at whatever look of confusion has crossed your face. You nod but say nothing. Soon they go back to speaking their human words but Jake keeps you close to him with his arm hooked over yours. So you sit, listening but not understanding. Finally they say something that seems to upset Jake. His ears fall as he sighs, and his hand finally finds yours. There’s defeat in his eyes when he looks at you after hearing what his friends had to say. Defeat and longing you realize as his hand tightens around yours. If he wants to say something he doesn’t. Instead he nods resolutely and rises to walk the outsiders back to their hollow ikran. You meant to ask what it was called but the thought is easily lost as you turn towards the children.

It is near to eclipse and the sun is a bright crescent of firelight in the sky, casting an orange glow over them. They’re gathered in a tight circle, like a braided cord. Shoulders touching and tails sweeping against each other. Lo’ak has Tsireya’s arm, Ao’nung and Neteyam are sharing in their own conversation, and Tuk has tucked herself under Rotxo’s arm, still clinging to her sister’s hand. Kiri’s face is still troubled but she doesn’t look as upset as she had when she first woke. You imagine it will be long before she returns to herself. It doesn’t seem like they’ll be eager to leave so you take it upon yourself to feed them.

“How is the girl?” Ronal asks when you join her at the cooking fire. Women of the clan are gathered here, talking amongst themselves as they prepare dinner. Many hands are needed to feed so many people and they smile upon your arrival.

“Awake and well enough. The children have been keeping her company since she woke.”

“That is good.” She nods, passing you leaves to wrap the fish you’ve cooked. The two of you work in tandem as you had before Jakesully’s arrival upset the balance of Awa’atlu. Or perhaps it’s only you that’s been so upended by the man and his family. You’ve missed moments like this with your sister. They’d been lost after you set yourself as her opposition before the clan. Her acceptance was reluctant and eased by the will of her mate. But things have simmered since and Ronal has quelled her distaste for the family.

“You are close to her,” Ronal says carefully, blowing the flame off a roasted bit of meat. “She will be more comfortable if you look after her. I can’t say what happened, but it was something terrible. The whole of her spirit was upset by it.” She speaks quieter now, strong voice suddenly lost in the din of gossiping women. “If something more happens you have seen how I healed her. It will be your responsibility.”

“My responsibility? I am not tsahìk. This is a matter for the will of Eywa.” Your voice is a sharp whisper.

“You say this as if we do not know the same things. The Great Mother speaks just as clearly to you, tsmuke. It is because I am tsahìk that I am entrusting the health of a child of our clan to you. Any mother of Awa’atlu would do the same. You know this. Stop questioning yourself.” She snaps. Ronal has never been one for kindness based on familial ties. She treats you as any other member of the clan when the need arises. You aren’t above reproach. She frowns at you, before venting her anger into the food in her hand. With a jerk of her head in the direction you came from she dismisses you. The last of the food she’s made goes in the basket on your hip as you leave.

“Sa’tsmuke,” Tsireya announces you when you set down the food. Your niece’s dimpled smile lights up her face as laughter greets your arrival. Even Kiri has a small smile on her lips. It’s a relief to see. Jake still hasn’t returned but you try not to dwell on his absence. They continue their happy conversation as the night grows darker until it tapers off into quiet mumbles and stifled yawns. The Sully children settle down for the night and Tsireya is nearly asleep as you detangle her from between Kiri and Lo’ak. She clings to you the same as she had when she was small as you put her on your back. Her face nuzzles against your hair as you see everyone home. The oversight isn’t necessary. There’s no danger in walking alone even in the darkness but you enjoy these small moments of borrowed motherhood.

But when you return to your empty home once more your heart feels hollow. The feeling has plagued you for weeks, marked with the arrival of the Sully family. The loneliness hadn’t bothered you so much before. The clan has many unmated men and women. Finding a mate can take years and you always assumed you’d bloom into love later than most. And when the time for mating seemed to pass you accepted your status as a singular woman. Now it feels as though there is something missing. Like a chip in your knife that you hadn’t noticed before. The dull ache of it plagues you as you try to sleep, trying to ignore the whispers carrying on the balmy breeze.

If this pain is the Great Mother trying to tell you something you choose to ignore it. Jakesully has mated before her. He belongs to someone else. No matter the circumstances he’s found himself in now; without his mate and far from his home, nothing but friendship can be shared between the two of you.

Even as your heart squeezes painfully in your chest you resign yourself to the dull ache. These feelings are yours alone. You’ll just have to accept the pain of longing for a heart you can never hold.

ɴᴀ’ᴠɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Oel ngati kameie – I See you

Tsakarem – tsahìk-in-training

Uturu – sanctuary

Tawtute – skypeople

Sa’tsmuke – aunt, mother’s sister (speculative)

Tsmuke’itan – nephew, sister’s son (speculative)

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Vitra – spirit, soul

Tsmuke – sister

Tawtute – skypeople

Tswin – neural braid

Eywa’eveng – Pandora

#jake sully x reader #sully family x reader #avatar x reader #avatar #atwow

1K notes · View notes

waffletheorist · 9 months ago

Text

So, in Part 2 of Masks, if you translate the Sheikah text from the Slate, it says "Someone will die." So, what does this mean? If we go by loophole logic or what I sometimes call PJO logic for prophecies, it has been fulfilled by Twilight's experience, or can be fulfilled by someone dying, and then being revived by other means, such as a doll, fairy, Mipha's Grace, or a different revival method.

The problem arises when we consider that we don't know on which logic this prophecy runs on. Can it be escaped by a loophole? Or is it infallible? Does the death have to be permanent?

If the death does have to be permanent, then it's most likely to be a side character, because, most of the chain has some reason to survive. The issue with prophecies like this is you never know when they've been fulfilled.

Time: Twilight is living proof he lives for a bit longer after this.

Hyrule: According to the guidebook, he has the "gift of tongues", and is destined to be a great king. So, he could potentially die of the guidebook isn't considered canon. It would also add the blood curse plot point.

Wild: TotK.

Legend: If we go by game logic, there are actually two Legends, and one is the descendant of the other, although they've been combined into one character for the sake of the comic. There's also the possibility Hyrule is his descendant. So, overall, like Hyrule, he has a reason to live, but it depends on what Jojo considers canon.

Sky: The whole royal bloodline.

Four: Temple of the Four Sword in ALttP. It's a sad ending, and although it could potentially occur on this adventure, it's highly unlikely.

Wind: Founding of the second Kingdom of Hyrule with Tetra, and it's doubtful that out of all of them, the kid will die, one of the adults is more likely.

Twilight: I saw somebody consider that the wolf in Hyrule Warriors ridden by Midna is an older Twilight, although it's not canon, if it was it would provide reason for him to live. For actual reasons though, there's also the "Wild is Twilight's descendant" theory, and he's already got the near-death trauma, so it's unlikely for him to be killed off again after he just survived this.

Warriors: I haven't played much of Hyrule Warriors, so I can't say much about him, so anyone more knowledgable than me can help with this one. I'd say that with him and Legend's sort of rivalry though, it is likely that he may have a near-death experience so that they get a moment, and make up after that, and then he tells Legend about Marin, because she appears in his game, which would be nice in my opinion.

So, all of them have reasons to survive (although some are less credible than others, and I haven't found Warriors yet). So, who could die, if not any of them? Dink. What if Dink was the one prophesied to die? If they defeat him, he'll probably die, and the Sheikah Slate just says "someone", not someone in the group. (Loophole logic). What if the whole thing was a red herring to scare us, and it's just letting us know the big bad will die in the end?

Although, that could potentially be anticlimactic, and a bit boring. So, let's say it isn't Dink. We don't really have anyone else except the postman, and Epona. And Epona better not die. The postman doesn't really seem like a likely candidate for death either. So, I'd say Dink will die, there'll be a temporary death and then a revival, or another character will be introduced and killed off.

71 notes · View notes

freyjas-musings · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I sent in an ask a while ago on how I think Gwyn might be a descendant of Oleanna, and came up with the headcanon of Oleanna visiting Gwyn in her dreams like Elena did with Aelin!

To me, Gwyn and Azriel have religious imagery/symbolism. I know that you have a theory on Gwyn & Azriel being the reincarnations of Oleanna & Enyalius (which is also interesting to me), so I just wanted to share some things that I discovered after doing some research!

This post https://www.tumblr.com/mystical-blaise/663854476621479936/berdara-meaning stood out to me.

The name Gwyn mean fair, white, blessed, and holy. The name Gwyneth means happiness.

Gwynedd means white, fair, blessed, pure.

Apparently Gwyneth also refers to Virgin. Her full name can translate to bleeding virgin.

The name Gwenivere is derived from the Welsh words gwen and hwyfar, which mean “white or fair” and “ghost or phantom” respectively. The name therefore means “white ghost” or “white phantom”.

In Malay, Berdarah means bleeding, bloodied, bled, bloody. Berdara in Malay is also virgin.

Sangrava (Sangravah) means used to bleed in Portuguese.

@yazthebookish posted on her Instagram story how it’s interesting that Gwyn wanted to name her sword Silver Majesty and the sword Gwydion kind of ties in both and it could maybe be an easter egg. “Silver: it’s dark blade emits what was described as a holy, savior’s light and that also connects Gwyn’s holy status as a priestess and the light emits when singing. Majesty: it belonged to a High King whose name is also the Irish equivalent to Gwyn (= Fionn). Gwydion: in Celtic mythology is a trickster/magician from the Kingdom of Gwynedd, which the name Gwyneth is derived from.”

Gwynriel’s have come up with theories about Gwyn and Gwydion after ACOSF, and how she might wield the sword. I’ve also seen theories on how she might be the one to find Narben.

In Medieval Christian theology places seraphim in the highest choir of the angelic hierarchy. They are the caretakers of God's throne, continuously singing "holy, holy, holy".

In the Book of Isaiah (Isaiah 6:1-8) used the term to describe six-winged beings that fly around the Throne of God crying “holy, holy, holy”.

In the Bible in Luke 2:13-21 it says: “Suddenly a great army of heaven’s angels appeared with the angel, singing praises to God: ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace on earth to those with whom he is pleased!’”

I wonder, have some people ever stopped to think that maybe the reason why Gwyn glows when she’s singing is because it’s something holy and pure, not because she’s “evil”? Even if Gwyn does turn out to be a lightsinger, SJM will not make her a villain, and it would make her an equal to Azriel (she already is). It would be another parallel between her and Azriel, which they already have multiple parallels.

The name Azriel means God is my help.

In Islamic and Christian traditions, Azrael is the name of the angel of death, one of the four archangels; the angel of death who separates souls from their bodies. Apparently he proved to be the only angel brave enough to go down to Earth and face the hordes of Iblīs, the devil, in order to bring God the materials needed to make man. Fun fact: Azrael’s attributes are wings and a cloak. (Azriel wrapped Gwyn in his cloak when saving her.)

Ramiel means thunder of God. We know that Ramiel is important, it is Illyria’s sacred mountain, it is regarded as the holy mountain of the Night Court. Where the warriors are when the Blood Rite ends sorts them into one of the three echelons of warrior, name after their holy stars. One of the seven archangels listed in the Book of Enoch, Ramiel is considered to be the angel of hope, guiding faithful souls to heaven and watching over those who will be resurrected. Throughout the New Testament, Jesus is associated with mountains. Mountains are mentioned more than 500 times in the Bible. The Garden of Eden was believed to have been on a mountain. Mountains have a logical religious symbolism for Jewish and Christian cultures since they are “closer to God” who dwells in the heavens (as in the sky). As a result, God often reveals himself on a mountaintop in the text. In the Old Testament, the mountains of Sinai and Zion are most significant.

The name Oleanna means light. Didn’t Oleanna, a high priestess, create Gwydion and gave it its powers when she dipped it into the Cauldron?

In Greek mythology Enyalius is generally the son of Ares by Enyo. Enyalius is often seen as the God of soldiers and warriors from Ares cult.

All of this just seemed really interesting to me. SJM minored in religious studies, so it’s possible she is well aware of some of this or has done some research. There is a lot of religious symbolism and imagery when it comes to Gwyn. No one is “stealing” the religious aesthetic from E/riel’s. Gwyn and Azriel as characters themselves have religious imagery. Gwynriel as a ship has religious symbolism. It wouldn’t surprise me if SJM played into this and I really hope she does. The saint and the sinner. I’ve thought for a while now about making edits of Gwyn and Gwynriel that are religious themed, but I’m scared of E/riel’s saying that I’m stealing their aesthetic, since they’ve accused Gwynriel’s of stealing the light and dark aesthetic. But Gwynriel does actually have a light and dark aesthetic, and E/riel’s use the Hades & Persephone thing despite it being Feysand’s.

Hi Anon,

Everything you have written is interesting and I would love to take my time and explore every single point you made ...

Its all very interesting and I could see Oleanna and Gwyn having a connection similar Enalius and Az ....

Illyrians were made and the leathery wings indicate they were an experiments with creatures from the hel realm ....Now cut to Gwyn who was conceived by a priestess on the holy night of the great rite... it will almost be poetic if Az wields a weapon made from dark power and Gwyn ends up weilding a weapon made from holy power the warrior mates who are also Carynthians.

So Gwyn and Az have the whole holy unholy aesthetic going for them .... saint and the sinner .... carynthian warriors ... and yes Light and dark too.

Light and dark is such a common aesthetic.... it is also a Feysand aesthetic, Ruhn Lidia aesthetic ✨️... you cant gatekeep such a generic aesthetic.

Their book my friend will win hearts and be an absolute masterpiece .

I am very curious as to what Gwyns power is .... being Azriel's mate it would need to be something equally unique and powerful and yes I do believe her power will be something Holy ... she already has the invoking stone that she channels the mother's power from but even apart from that I believe her glow could be something holy ✨️

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #pro gwynriel #gwyn acosf #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #gwyn x azriel #azriel #post acosf #acosf theory

25 notes · View notes

whitedarkmoonflower · 11 months ago

Text

Sickness 3

Part 3

Anonymous asked:

Season four Sihtric, when the group are passing through the fields during that plague and the river. Reader is the lover of Sihtric and is sick. Her sickness gets worse after the run in with Eadith’s brother Eardwulf. Very angsty with the rise on emotions everyone is dealing with. Eadith tries keeping the reader alive with her medical abilities but it’s to no avail. The reader and Sihtric have what they think are their last moments before she is kidnapped along with Stiorra, Aelswith and Aethelstan. She gets better and reunites after the siege.

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: This is the third and final part of the request I took over from @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

Warnings: angst, angst and a bit more angst, heartbreak, some lowkey smut, breeding kink if you want, fluff and a happy ending, as requested

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Word Count: 4,6K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @csigeoblue @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

"Why are you doing this?" Uhtred seized Sihtric's arm the moment they stepped out of Edward's tent, his eyes sweeping over the young warrior's ragged features. Sihtric was a complete wreck – his once neatly braided hair now a tangled mess, his armour filthy, and splattered with mud and blood. The dark circles under his eyes were not unusual given the thirty-day siege of Winchester, it was the vacant, haunting look in them that bothered Uhtred.

Sihtric shrugged his shoulders, avoiding Uhtred's stern and questioning gaze. "I just think it's worth a shot."

"No, it's not. And you know it. It's complete madness. Sihtric, look at me." Uhtred's voice grew angrier as he pointed his index finger at Sihtric's chest. "You can't keep going like this. Don't you understand..."

"No, you don't understand. I have nothing left in this world." Sihtric's voice cut off Uhtred's words as he took a step closer, locking eyes with him.

"I've lost people dear to me too. I know the pain, but..."

"Lord, you've always had your children, your dream of regaining Bebbanburg for them. I have nothing. No past, no present, no future. I've lost everything. At least I can try to be useful," Sihtric's voice quivered as he turned away, marching toward a group of waiting warriors with determined steps.

"That daft bastard is trying to get himself killed," Uhtred muttered to Finan and Osferth, his anger evident in his trembling voice.

"I'll talk to Sihtric later. Try to make him see some reason. He's not thinking straight,” Finan offered in a hushed tone, placing a comforting hand on Uhtred’s shoulder.

It was later in the night, the warming fireplace casting flickering flames into the fresh air as darkness descended, that Finan decided to try and bring Sihtric back to his senses.

"Here, have a drink," he approached with an ale mug in his hands, offering it to Sihtric as he settled himself on a large trunk that served as a makeshift bench next to Sihtric, sitting on the ground, his hands on his knees and back leaned against the same trunk.

Finan cleared his throat. "You've been volunteering for every reckless assault that Edward suggests. The ground outside the gates is littered with the fallen. It's a wonder you're still among the living."

Sihtric took a sip and sighed. "I've been wondering why the gods won't let me join them in Valhalla. It feels like they're either mocking me or punishing me for not being able to protect the greatest gift they gave me." Sihtrics gaze remained fixed on the flames dancing around the firewood, as if searching for answers in their flickering depths.

"Lad, you can't blame yourself for what happened."

"It wouldn't have happened," Sihtric said, his elbows on his knees as he clutched the ale mug, his vacant gaze fixed somewhere in the dark beyond the flickering firelight. "None of it would have happened if I hadn't been so foolish to let her come with us. It's all on me. I was her downfall. She'd still be alive if I hadn't entered her life in the first place. So don't try to tell me it wasn't my fault, because it was."

"You know you couldn't have stopped her from coming with us. She did it for the children, Sihtric," Finan said, his hand gently resting on Sihtric's shoulder, though it appeared that Sihtric hardly registered the touch.

"I just watched as they took her away. I was utterly useless. And now she's gone, Finan, and I wasn't even there. She died alone. She must have been terrified, alone and terrified, and there was no one there to hold her hand," Sihtric's grip on the ale mug tightened, and with a forceful motion, he hurled it into the fire, making the flames momentarily flare and dance.

"Every breath I take feels like it burns my lungs,” Sihtric continued, his voice reduced to a faint whisper, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. He turned to face his friend, and in the flickering light, Finan could swear he saw tears glistening in Sihtric's eyes. “Why am I allowed to keep breathing when she isn't? I don't want to walk this earth while she rests on the other side. My only wish is to find an honourable death. If it even slightly helps to secure Aethelstan and Stiorra's freedom, then I'll pass knowing my life wasn't utterly without worth."

“You can’t help them, if you are dead,” Finan was not ready to give up so easily, "And if there's one thing I'm certain of - she wouldn't want you to carry this burden. She loved you with all her heart, and she wouldn't want to see you like this. You're looking for the easy way out, my friend. If you truly loved her, find the strength within you to keep on living. Do it for her," Finan tapped his friend on the shoulder, as he raised himself to leave.

Sihtric remained motionless, seated and hunched forward, his head cradled in his hands, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames, as the sweet but torturing memories of your first night together and of your first kiss overflooded him like every night.

Back then, he hadn't expected any of it from you. He had been thinking how to convince Uhtred to give him another mission and let him leave. The memory of how close he'd come to losing his composure the day before still made his cheeks flush and his stomach flip every time he thought about it. The moonlight caressing your skin, shimmering in your eyes, the gentle touch of your hand on his, and that incredibly sweet scent you wore—a mix of lavender and rose oil with something uniquely yours—it had overwhelmed him. He'd almost blurted out his feelings and ruined everything.

Truth was that you were just perfect for him. Your vivacious and kind nature, your constant efforts to lift the spirits of those around you, your unconditional love for the children, your attentive and caring attitude—every little detail had captured his heart from the very beginning. He was utterly smitten, and yet utterly devastated at the same time, for he couldn't fathom confessing his admiration to you, let alone entertain the notion that you might feel the same way. He just wasn't ready to face the possibility of your rejection. The night before, he had come perilously close—far too close to the brink of making a fool of himself by revealing his longing.

To say that your words had caught him by surprise would mean to say nothing. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Your soft, melodic voice still resonated in his ears, and your words were etched into his memory. Just three simple words: "I like you." Yet, those words had changed everything, turning his life upside down in a single moment.

And then you had kissed him. The soft, lingering touch of your lips against his was like a bolt of lightning for Sihtric, catching him completely off guard. It felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe, and his heart raced in his chest as he cradled your face in both of his palms, pulling you slightly back, his eyes searching yours for any sign that this was some kind of cruel joke. But the sincerity in your gaze, so tender and with tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, filled his chest with such warmth. As he leaned in to kiss you back, he was flooded with happiness and that weird feeling of frogs jumping around in his stomach.

His fingers trembled as he cupped your cheeks. He recalled your sharp exhale as he pressed you closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist, and how you traced his arm up to his shoulders, settling yours around his neck, fingers teasingly tangling in his hair and pulling him even closer.

The fire was slowly fading, but Sihtric couldn't bring himself to move and fetch more firewood. With his head still cradled in his hands, a desperate, muffled moan escaped his lips as he recalled the way your lips had brushed against his—so shy, tender, sweet, and warm. He recalled your trembling breath and the soft gasp with which you parted your lips, to let his tongue into your mouth.

Even now his breath grew heavier at the sweet memory of how trustfully you had surrendered to his heated touch, how instead of withdrawing or pushing him away you had kept pressing yourself tighter against his chest, your fingers raking his hair.

Sihtric closed his eyes, letting himself be completely carried away to that evening.

It was as if he could still feel the sweet taste of your lips, filling him with hunger and desire above anything he had ever felt. He could barely breathe from the yearning that consumed him, feeling painfully restrained in his breeches.

He remembered every small detail, every word, every sigh and every glance as if it all had happened just moments before. He remembered groaning against your lips, as he noticed your breath accelerating as his hands slowly reached your hips and wandered further down pressing you firmly against his crotch, his arousal hard to ignore.

He craved for you like he had never craved for anybody before, but the last thing he had wanted was to scare you or to push you into something you didn’t want or wasn’t ready for. He had tried to withdraw, tried to explain, to let you know how much you had him under your power.

He remembered the spark in your eyes as you smiled at him, your fingers caressing his cheek gently, your thumb softly gliding over his lower lip.

"Follow me," you had whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, your warm breath teasing his skin as you took his hand in yours and turned towards the house, guiding him with you. And he had followed willingly, allowing you to lead, his fingers entwined with yours, excitement and curiosity pulsing through his veins.

Sihtric recalled how surprised he was as you led him into the silent, sleeping house and into your room.

"Lady, I…" he had started to speak, his voice rasped, desire and longing evident in his hoarse tone.

"Sihtric," you didn't let him finish, taking his hand and pressing his palm to your cheek, cuddling against it. "Please, make love to me tonight."

Sihtric felt a sudden warmth spreading across his face, cheeks flushing as he repeated these words in his mind. He had thought himself caught in a dream. A dream he was sure he never wanted to wake from. A dream that had turned into a nightmare.

He had almost choked on his breath as your fingers began to unfasten the straps of his leather armour, but he didn’t stop you. He kept watching your every movement, as your slender fingers unstrapped his belt and let it fall to the ground with a light metallic sound. A sigh rolled over his lips, as you tugged at the lower edge of his armour in an attempt to pull it off him. He had wrapped his hands around yours, bringing them to his lips and pressing gentle kisses to your palms, before he helped you to finish what you had started.

He remembered his fingers trembling in anticipation as he placed his hands at the front of your dress, his lips almost touching yours. “May I?” was the only thing he had managed to whisper, his lips curling into a smile at your soft “Please,” followed by a whimper as his fingers began to gently pull at the laces beneath your breasts.

Unable to control that sharp gasp followed by a low, almost desperate moan that left his lips, he had marveller at your naked body revealed to his eyes as your dress flung to the floor.

“Gods, you are so beautiful,“ he had murmured, stepping closer and wrapping his warm, slightly sweaty hands around your waist, his rapid breath betraying his excitement.

Soft giggles had bubbled over your lips as he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the bed.

A soft sob shook Sihtric’s shoulders at the memory of your fingers impatiently pulling at the laces of his breeches, stroking his hard length through the fabric, while he freed you from your underpants, settling between your thighs.

The sweet taste of your body lingered on his tongue as he remembered his lips relentlessly roaming your naked body, every curve and every line of it, starting from your jaw down to the collarbone, passing your breasts, suckling lightly at each of them and travelling further down to your stomach, sucking and leaving small biting marks on your sensitive skin, your muffled moans of pleasure a sweet melody in his ears.

You had been so sweet and trusting, yielding to his touch, letting him take the lead. He was a man, a Dane and a warrior, not a saint; he had had women before and not few. He had loved and been betrayed, he had sought comfort and pleasure in the arms of women who sold their affection for gold, and satisfied his desires in the beds of bored housewives and adventurous maidens. He had once considered himself unworthy of true love, but everything had changed the moment he had met you. He was in love, deeper than he had ever been before. He didn't want you just for this one night; he wanted you for every night and day, for all eternity and beyond, for all the good days and bad days. He yearned to savour every moment with you, to taste you, to pleasure you, to bring you to the brink of ecstasy, and to lose himself in the depths of his own passion and devotion.

And when you nodded your agreement to have him, to welcome him into your body, and he finally dared to immerse himself in the pulsing warmth of your core, your walls taking him in and squeezing around him, he felt as if he had ascended to Valhalla itself and he was sure that if there ever came a moment when he had to choose between Valhalla and you, he would pick you without a second's hesitation.

Sihtric remembered how you sunk into the pillows, wrapping your legs around his waist, how your nails dug into his back, how you moaned his name bucking your hips against his and how your tight, throbbing walls clenched around his cock, the most wanton sounds leaving your lips as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, finally chasing his own high, the sight of you writhing beneath him, breathless and flushed, pushing him towards the edge.

He had wanted to withdraw before releasing his seed inside you, but you refused to let him, causing him to spill deeply within you, his pleasure indescribable. And for the first time in his life, he found himself silently praying to the gods, that his seed would take as he knew there would be no other woman in this world he would want to bear his children, apart from you.

“I love you,” he had whispered between panting breaths, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he had repeated like a mantra, placing kisses all over your face.

“I love you too,” it had been just a soft murmur against his ear, but those words meant everything to him, causing his face to light up with a smile outshining a thousand suns.

The night had swallowed the camp in darkness, with thick clouds shrouding the sky, denying even a glimmer of moonlight. The fire had dwindled, reduced to a mere handful of glowing coals that cast a feeble, crimson glow upon Sihtric's features. He sat there, his back resting against the trunk, elbows propped on his knees, and hands hanging limply. Tears trickled slowly down his cheeks, tracing wet, salty paths on his face. He made no effort to wipe them away, allowing them to roll down and soak into the soil beneath his feet.

The relentless, cold inner voice continued its cruel whispers, reminding him that these memories were all he had left. He would never gaze into those sparkling eyes again, never hear that melodic voice of yours, never taste the sweetness of those red, full lips, never feel the warmth of your skin against his fingertips, and never witness your children playing.

Could it be that Finan was right? Was he truly seeking the easy way out? The past four weeks had blurred into a hazy abyss for Sihtric. The initial hope that Edward's forces would swiftly reclaim the city had dwindled after several unsuccessful attempts. It was different this time, the Danes didn’t let themselves be provoked and Edward, losing his mind, worrying about his children, was acting more and more like a madman. Days passed by, and the slender thread of hope to find you that had kept Sihtric going had dissipated like a morning mist in the embrace of the rising sun. You were gone and he was utterly lost.

Out there on the battlefield was the only place where he could escape, if only for a little while, from the agony in his mind, let out his anger and despair, losing himself in the frenzy of the fight, as the clash of swords, the deafening war cries, the desperate shouts of the wounded and all the chaos around finally drowned out the cruel inner voice that haunted him. He craved these short moments of oblivion like an addict. Tomorrow there will be another assault on the gates and he has volunteered again to lead it. Perhaps, if the gods would finally decide to show him mercy, a stray arrow might find him and bring an end to this torment once and for all.

—--------------------------------------------

You slowly opened your eyes, curiosity mingled with uncertainty as you took in your surroundings, unfamiliar smells and strange sounds wafting around. A reflexive cough escaped your lips, and you winced, bracing for the anticipated sharp pain that had previously racked your lungs. Surprisingly, it didn't come. You took a cautious, deep breath, realising that the once-persistent ache and heaviness in your chest had dissipated.

“Ah, you're awake, dear. Easy now, don't strain yourself," a hoarse yet kindly voice greeted you. You turned your head toward the source of the voice and found yourself met by a pair of bright, smiling eyes framed by a sea of wrinkles and lines. A wild shock of silver-white hair framed the old lady's face, cascading in unruly wisps around her shoulders. Her hands, gnarled and weathered, held a delicate grace as they moved with purpose and care expertly feeling your pulse.

"Where... where am I?" you managed to croak out.

"You're in Winchester, child. I found you in a cart left at my doorstep. You were in a dreadful state when I found you. And mark my words, if I ever lay hands on those heartless rascals who abandoned you here without so much as a knock on my door, I'll give them a piece of my mind they won't soon forget."

The old lady's fiery determination brought a smile to your lips, her strength and confidence shining through her frail exterior. You couldn't help but believe she was more than capable of following through on her threats.

"And what about the others?" you inquired, your voice tinged with wonder.

"The others?" the lady echoed, her brow furrowing. "There were no others in the cart, my dear. Just you."

Your smile faded rapidly, memories of the events in the woods rushing back to you, as the image of Sihtric and the others hanging their heads down from the branches of that massive tree intruded your mind.

"Oh my God! They're dead. They're all dead," you cried out, tears streaming down your face as uncontrollable sobs wracked your body. You covered your eyes with trembling hands, unable to contain the overwhelming grief that washed over you.

"Hey, take it easy," the old healer comforted you, passing a cup filled with warm tea. "It will help you calm down. I may not know what happened to your friends you mentioned, but what's important is that you have a second chance. For your sake and for the life you're carrying beneath your heart, you must focus on regaining your strength."

Confusion laced your voice as you asked, still sobbing, "What do you mean?"

"You didn't know? My dear, you're carrying a child, without a doubt," the old lady replied with a warm twinkle in her eyes, her tone friendly and reassuring.

“A child?” you repeated, your voice laced with disbelief.

"Yes, my dear. A new life is growing within you, and it's a precious gift. You have been given a second chance, not just for yourself but for this little one too."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of a different kind.

“I’m with a child, Sihtric’s child,” you murmured under your breath, as the thought of carrying Sihtric's child filled you with an inconceivable mix of emotions, joy and hope mingling with sadness and fear, but above everything a new sense of purpose to your life enveloped you as a warm blanket, soothing your aching, bleeding heart. It was as if a small part of him lived on within you, a reason to keep moving forward.

—---------------------------------------

Sihtric stood at the forefront of the chaos, his grip on the rambock's handle firm, his muscles straining as they battered the gate of Winchester. The deafening sound of the rambock colliding with the wooden gate was drowned out by the cacophony of battle - the clash of steel, the war cries, and the roars of men.

With a final, determined push, the gates groaned and gave way, and the roaring and shouting throng of warriors surged into the city, their cries filling the air.

"The gates, the Saxons have breached the gates!" someone cried out as they ran past the healer's house. The distant sounds of battle reached your ears, drawing you out onto the porch. The clash of swords, the thundering hooves of horses, and the fierce war cries of warriors resonated in the distance.

Driven by curiosity, you took a few steps forward and as you did, a swarm of roaring Danes, emerging from a nearby corner and charging toward the gates, caught you off guard. You attempted to sidestep them, but it was too late. You found yourself swept up in the surge, desperately trying to break free, but unable to escape their relentless advance.

The battle raged before the gates, a chaotic and brutal dance of clashing shields and swords. You were helplessly dragged along, tossed about like a ragdoll, the warriors' roars echoing in your ears as you desperately manoeuvred between them, ducking, jumping, and sidestepping in an effort to evade the deadly flurry of shields and blades. A forceful shove from behind sent you tumbling, and you stumbled over a fallen body before crashing to the ground.

"Shield wall!" a commanding voice rang out, cutting through the cacophony of battle, followed by the blaring blast of horns as you crawled frantically through the tumultuous maze of countless stomping legs.

"Shield wall!" the command echoed once more, and the battlefield around you stilled as men began to fall back. Two shield walls formed on either side of the yard, creating an empty space between them and there you lay huddled on the ground among lifeless bodies and groaning wounded, your hands protectively wrapped around your belly.

Sihtric's eyes scanned the empty space between the shield walls, as he strained to make sense of the chaotic scene, his heart pounding in his chest, the taste of sweat and blood lingering in his mouth.

Then, amidst the turmoil and destruction, his eyes locked onto a figure on the ground, crouched low, and clutching her abdomen. He couldn't believe his eyes; he thought he had gone mad, that grief and longing were playing tricks on his mind. His grip on his axe loosened, as he staggered backward, his mind racing with disbelief and hope. He had mourned you, convinced that you were gone, that he would never see your face again, yet there you were, a vision in the midst of chaos, a dream, a cruel mirage in the midst of war. As if frozen he stared at the sight before him, paralysed and unable to make his feet move until Finan’s urgent shout jolted him from his stupor.

"Dear God! Sihtric!" Finan's voice rang out, insistent and full of urgency. "It's her! It’s (Y/N)! She's alive! We have to get to her!"

Without another moment of hesitation, Sihtric rallied his senses and started to push his way through the shield wall, his heart pounding like crazy. He rushed to your side, sinking to one knee and turned you over to face him. There you were, unmistakably you, your face contorted with pain and fear, your eyes full with astonishment and awe.

“Sihtric?” you muttered, not believing your eyes.

"Gods, you're alive," were the only words Sihtric could manage, his voice catching in his throat as he lifted you and carried you away from the battlefield, his powerful arms cradling you gently.

Desperately seeking a safe place to bring you, Sihtric's eyes landed on the battered gates that once guarded the entrance to the inner yard of the convent. It appeared forsaken and deserted. With no better options in sight, he nudged the broken gate open with his foot and carefully carried you inside and continued through the vacant courtyard, taking you to the far end of the garden, where he gently settled you on the ground, his hands instantly wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into a tight embrace.

He held you close, his trembling fingers softly caressing your hair, tears in his eyes, as he whispered, "I thought I had lost you forever.”

“I thought you were dead, I mourned you and I wept for you,” Sihtric’s voice was low and croaky. “And I was ready to follow you to the other side. I was so angry at the gods for not giving me an honourable exit from this world. What a fool I was!” Sihtric nuzzled your hair, showering the top of your head with tender kisses.

"I thought you were gone too," you murmured, your face buried in Sihtric's chest, tears soaking his leather armour. "I was sure we would never see you again," your voice quivered.

"We?" Sihtric questioned, his brow furrowing. "Were you with Stiorra and Aethelstan? Do you know where they are?"

"No, Sihtric. I meant... I...," your words were swallowed by the uncontrollable sobs that shook your body. Sihtric gently cradled your face in his large, warm hands, tenderly kissing away your tears.

"My love, my daylight, my sunshine, my everything. It is a miracle I have found you again. I love you, and I'll never let you go. I am forever yours, and you are forever mine," he whispered.

"We are forever yours. We have been blessed, Sihtric. I'm… I’m carrying our child," you finally managed to regain control of your emotions.

"Child?" Sihtric felt a sudden dizziness wash over him as the weight of your words hit him like a tidal wave. He had a strange feeling as if his knees had turned into jelly, threatening to give way beneath him, leaving the big, blood-smeared warrior no choice but to clutch onto you for support. He stood there for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around your trembling form, as if fearing you might vanish if he let go.

"Our child," he repeated, his voice quivering with a mixture of awe, joy, and disbelief. With a burst of euphoria, he lifted you off the ground and spun around, laughter bubbling from his lips like a madman's. Setting you down gently, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and then to your lips. His gaze locked with yours, radiating absolute bliss, as he slowly sank to his knees before you, his lips planting gentle kisses on your belly.

"Hey there, little one," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "Can you hear me? I love your mom more than anything in this world, and I already love you too. I promise, no, I swear on my life, I will take good care of both of you."

#sihtric #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #tlk fic #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic

140 notes · View notes

breannasfluff · 1 year ago

Text

Pinned Down

Whump Rating: 4/5 TW: Mainly emotional angst, minor description of blood, being held down, panic AO3 Link

Wild won’t let them near his wing. They can’t move on with his wing dragging on the ground. Yet anytime someone tries to approach, he starts up a warning chatter and shuffles further away.

Time, as flock leader, puffs his wings and gives a strong flock call. “Wild. We just want to help. You’re going to hurt yourself further if you let it keep dragging.” He steps forward, hands up but wings out. He gives another call. Flock leader, obey.

Wild’s ears pin back to his head at the sound. Time never uses the obey signal. He trembles but manages to keep it down to a few shuffling steps as the kite gets closer.

“I’m going to pick up your wing, okay? Just so we can walk over to the clearing and get you looked at properly.” His voice is low and soothing as he approaches.

Wild starts up his chatter again but doesn’t bolt.

“I need to touch your wing to get it off the ground. I’ll do my best not to move it too much, but you are going to get an infection like this.”

The magpie’s chatter kicks up in warning as Time reaches out. He pauses, refluffs his wings, and repeats flock leader, obey. Wild is still edging, ready to bolt. Obey! Submit, hatchling!

Legend flinches and he’s not even the target. Asking for submission is frowned upon in avian society. The call is too instinctual to easily ignore. From a stranger, yes. From a flock leader, no.

Wild wails, but stays put as Time carefully wraps his hands around the dragging wing. Despite how the kite keeps his wings up, showing dominance and flock leadership, the tips tremble and shudder. For a bird who cares deeply for his flock and their happiness, the command hurts him as much as it does Wild.

Time lifts, dipping one wing around to support the secondaries of the dragging wing. Keeping an eye on the bone, he gives a sharp nod. “Over to the clearing. Warriors, lead the way. Twilight, get the others.”

The group scatters and Wild takes a stumbling step, chittering as his broken wing moves. Hyrule gives a calming coo on instinct, but it doesn’t seem to permeate.

Each step away from the battlefield is agonizing and Time has to repeat his obey call twice more to stop Wild from bolting. Finally, they are situated in the middle of a large clearing. Sparse pine trees provide cover, but the ground is mostly dirt. They have the space needed to splint his wing.

“Sit down, Wild.” Time lowers the broken wing in time with the magpie, then lets go and steps back.

Wild crouches and immediately starts up his warning chatter. The other wing flutters and fluffs, trying to compensate.

Warriors—loner that he is—pulls Time into a hug. The kite clings to the captain and he wraps him up in his wings. They are all going to need to show the old man attention and love after a display like that, but Wild comes first.

Four shoves a green potion in Hyrule’s hands and he downs it, standing steadier. His magic alone isn’t enough to heal a broken bone; speeding the healing will over tighten the muscles needed for flight, but he can help.

Legend lets go as Hyrule moves forward. Flockmate, flockmate, here to help, the hearler trills. Safe, care for you, protect. When that doesn’t work, he tilts into a maternal call. Chick, little chick, comfort and help!

Wild chatters at him, unswayed.

“Let me try.” Legend steps forward and lowers his wings until they brush the ground. Help help worry. Hurt flockmate! Then he adds on a descending note. I hurt because you do, it says.

Go away, go away, threat! Wild chatters back. His eyes are blown wide, but they aren’t focusing on the flock’s faces. There’s a haze to them. Whatever trauma this triggered, it’s not a pretty one.

Unfortunately, Legend has a good guess at what it is.

Hyrule tries another coo, then turns to the vet. “This isn’t working. His wing is bleeding and the longer we wait to set the bone, the worse it’s going to get. Do you think Time’s up for another order?”

Legend glances at where their leader is still shrouded in Warriors’ feathers. “I think he’ll do it if we have no choice.”

“I’m not sure we do.” The thrasher turns back to Wild. “I need to check your wing, little chick. Can I come look? I won’t touch it.” Flockmate, love you, he adds with a melodic trill.

Wild’s chattering slows and he drops into a warning hiss. It’s an improvement, so Hyrule moves forward, keeping his hands well away from the broken wing.

“How’s it look?” Legend asks.

“Not great. The bone has torn skin and some of the muscles were cut as well. He’s in a lot of pain, that’s for sure. I’m worried about the bleeding.”

“There’s not that much blood?” True, any amount of red splashed on blue feathers is worrying.

“Exactly. I think it’s bleeding under the skin. It will swell and, worst case, rupture.”

The vet swallows hard, wings shuffling at the notion. Wing injuries are hard to deal with at the best of times. This is definitely not the best.

“So, what do we do now?”

“I’m going to need to splint it in place and make sure the pooled blood is drained. Once we do that, I can use a potion or magic to heal the artery. I can push the bone and muscle a little, but not too far or they will heal stiff. We’re going to be walking for a while.”

The bowerbird brushes the inconvenience away. Wild needs their attention. Hyrule chirps at Wild, but droops when he doesn’t get an answer. He turns back to the other avians. “I’m going to need the raptors to help move his wing into place and hold it steady while I splint it.”

Stepping forward, Legend shakes his head. “He’s not going to like that.”

The healer’s eyes are agonized when they meet his. “I know.”

The flock huddles to one side to go over the plan before breaking apart and heading for Wild. The magpie is still in the same spot, one wing dragging limp on the ground. It looks—wrong. It is wrong.

Legend is on distraction duty as the only other flockmate who might be able to keep Wild calm. Time’s face is set, despite the puffy redness that points to recent crying. He’ll do anything to keep his flock safe, even betray their trust.

Of course, that’s the worst-case scenario. The vet can’t help the bile rising in his throat because the worst-case is likely what they will get.

“Hey, Wild. Hyrule’s going to take another look at your wing. I bet you were really scared when the net caught you.” His job is simply to talk, to provide distraction. The magpie’s eyes snapped to him immediately, despite the haze over them. He’s here—or, more likely, here and trapped in his memories at the same time. Past and present colliding in misery.

“You’re being really brave though, you know that? When I was a chick, I lost a primary jumping out of a tree and oh, you would have thought the world ended for how much I wailed.”

Hyrule huffs softly at the anecdote, carefully reaching for Wild’s wing. Legend keeps talking. If silly stories of him as a chick are what it takes, he’ll provide them.

At first, it’s working. Hyrule pushes feathers aside and uncorks a bottle of water. As soon as he pours it over the wound to clean it, though, Wild’s attention snaps to him.

There’s no warning.

Wild lunges at Hyrule and his other wing snaps out. Legend ducks and the bone whistles over his head. Hyrule squawks and backs up, but he isn’t ready for a sudden attack. The magpie snaps at the arm still reaching for his broken wing and bites. Hard.

Hyrule’s melodic voice should never be forced into that register of pain. Legend snaps at the air and chatters at Wild on instinct, because Hyrule is flock.

Wild lets go of Hyrule’s arm, but only to spin and bolt. The broken wing drags on the ground.

Through gritted teeth, Hyrule yells, “Now!”

Obey! Down! Now! Time’s flock call is so strong it nearly stops Legend before he rushes forward to help the others. Wild snarls and doesn’t follow it.

Submit! Submit submit submit!

That finally stops the magpie, but everyone else is frozen as well. Time hurriedly shifts the identifier. Hatchling submit! Obey! Down! The others start moving, but even then, Wild wavers, on the verge of breaking. Hatchling disobeys! Angry, bad, shameful to flock leader! SUBMIT! The call is half snarl, half screech.

Wild drops to the ground. Sorry sorry sorry! His wails are nothing but cries for forgiveness. Tears stream down his face. Forgive, forgive! comes in broken whimpers.

Time is crying, too. This is not how he leads his flock. But Wild is going to damage his wing irreparably if they don’t fix it. Right now, this is the only thing keeping Wild from running. Trauma bites deep, but instinct bites deeper.

Verbally held one spot, the raptors pounce on him. Time and Twilight pin him to the ground. Warriors holds down the other wing, putting a knee on the joint and pressing. It’s dangerous; the weight could snap the bone at the joint, but it’s also one of the few ways to keep Wild incapacitated.

Despite the command, he shrieks and thrashes.

“Keep his wing down! He’s going to damage it more!” Hyrule snaps.

Swallowing hard, Legend steps forward to help.

This will be finished tomorrow! With some comfort!

#pinned down #tw blood #whumptober2023 #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu whumptober #breannasfluff #mywriting #lu wing bois #lu wild #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu time #lu wing au

61 notes · View notes

mama-qwerty · 9 months ago

Note

Sometimes Eclipse repeats things he shouldn't (Maybe he says something he heard on the comet)

The boys stood at the edge of a large hole. Dirt littered the edges, framing the space in little mounds. Silver kicked a little bit back in, but didn't want to get too close.

"Think they'll have kids? Maybe some new friends?"

He turned to look at the big machine behind them, the one that had scooped the dirt from the hole. His mom said some people were building a new house. They'd watched them clear trees over the past few weeks, and the excavation began a week ago.

Eclipse didn't respond. He was standing at the edge of the hole, staring down into it. His eyes seemed far away, as though he were lost in memory.

"Scavenger pit."

His voice was soft, as though talking to himself.

"What?"

The darkling's brow furrowed, his eyes glued to the hole before him. "Scavenger pit. Are . . . are there more of these?"

Silver walked closer, his own brow pinching in confusion. "What's a scavenger pit?"

Eclipse didn't respond for a long moment, his eyes still far away.

"It's where the failed Black Arms were tossed. The Scavengers ate them."

Silver stared, his eyes wide. "A-ate them?"

"Father always threatened to toss me in if I failed him."

Eclipse's voice was soft, almost emotionless. As though he were simply talking about the weather and not some mind-bogglingly horrifying idea as being eaten alive for making a mistake.

Silence descended and Silver tried to think of something to say. He wasn't good with heavy subjects--especially when it came to his brother's past. Silver had had a tough go of things in his world, but based on the few things Eclipse said about how he'd grown up, it was a walk in the park.

"Mom says they dig a hole for houses for basements." In the end, Silver decided to just go with what he knew. "Or sometimes just to make sure the house is level and won't sink into the ground later."

The silence was back, and Eclipse backed away from the hole. He lowered himself to all fours--something he did when he was scared--and scurried away.

"C'mon, let's get out of here."

Silver spared one more look back at the hole before following his darkling brother.

~X~X~X~

That evening, after supper, Eclipse retreated to his room. The sight of that deep pit had brought back memories he wished he could simply pull out of his head and throw away.

He'd spent time around the Scavenger pit on the Black Comet. His father had made him, as a way of reinforcing the ever-present threat of what would happen should he continue failing him. He would watch as they would toss other warriors in. Warriors who had failed to train as hard as Black Doom wished. Who had fallen in battle. Who had simply slipped to their leader's disfavor.

Most were dead. But some were still alive, and they would beg and scream as they were tossed down to the lowest caste of Black Arms. The Scavengers, who removed waste from the Comet. Who ensured nothing but the strongest remained. Who crunched and slurped and tore their prey to bits, usually as the unfortunate soul was screaming and trying to claw their way back out.

Eclipse remembered the smell of blood and decay. He remembered the claw marks on the walls of the pit, long and deep and always dragged downward. He remembered the sounds. They followed him, haunted him in his sleep.

Now he sat in his hammock, running his thumbs across Dorothy's soft back. He hugged the plush to him, draping her long neck over his shoulder.

His father would have hated Dorothy. A toy was for children. Weak children, at that. Eclipse wasn't a child. He was a weapon. A warrior. The finest pinnacle of Black Arms bio-engineering. He'd been trained since he hatched to be the fiercest, strongest, best warrior the Black Arms had ever had.

And he had failed them time and time again.

The one thing he was created for, and he had failed it.

Maybe he deserved to be fed to the Scavengers. Maybe he deserved to be banished or exiled or whatever reason he'd been sent here.

Maybe he was a waste of organic matter.

A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts, and he tucked Dorothy next to him.

"What?"

The door opened a crack and his mother poked her head in. She wore a soft smile, and held a plate with a few chicken nuggets.

"Hey, Monkey. You didn't eat much supper. Just checking in with you to make sure you were okay."

He didn't look at her. "Fine."

A knowing look crossed her face, and she nodded as she closed the door behind her. "Ah. 'Fine.' Wanna talk about it?"

Eclipse pulled his lips tight.

She came closer, placing the plate on his belly. "Silver told me about what you said today. Based on some of the things you yell in your night terrors, that seems to be the heart of them."

He picked up a nugget and chewed slowly, keeping his eyes away from hers. He saw her in his peripheral vision, and she reached forward to give his muzzle a gentle caress with her knuckle.

"You don't have to talk about it. I can't take those memories and fears away, as much as I wish I could. But I will be here to tell you you're safe, over and over, a million billion times if I have to. I will hold you if you want, and let you be if you like. Just know that I'm here, I love you, and I would never let anything bad happen to you if I could possibly help it."

Eclipse flicked his eyes to hers, swallowing the nugget with a loud gulp. He'd had to adjust to a lot of things since coming to this planet--the weather, the large amount of humans, the lack of hivemind link and the unnerving quiet in his head.

But the hardest thing he'd had to get used to was having a home. A family. People who actually cared about him. Who didn't yell at him or threaten him or punish him just for making a mistake. People who wanted him around and were gentle with him when he did screw up. Which seemed to be a lot.

"Can you swing me?"

His voice was soft, almost embarrassed. It was something she did after he had nightmares about the Black Comet, about Black Doom. He'd wake up screaming and she'd rush into his room, talking him down and giving him little caresses on his muzzle or the top of his head. And then she'd swing his hammock back and forth, rocking him as though he were a little baby in the arms of his mother.

It usually helped to calm him enough to fall asleep again.

She smiled, running her thumb up over his head spikes.

"Sure, sweetie. Finish your nuggets."

He nodded, a little smile on his face as she took hold of the side of the hammock, and gently pushed and pulled him. She rocked him just right--not too hard, not too light--and he could never figure out how she knew just the right speed. But she did, and he lay back, working through the nuggets on the plate.

He didn't care why he was on Earth. He didn't care why his father had cast him out. He only cared about feeling safe and warm and loved.

Because right now, he was.

#ask me #ask shortie #ames stuff #eclipse the darkling #silver the hedgehog #callie macpherson #sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction

18 notes · View notes

everybody-loves-purdy · 5 months ago

Note

I think if the issue of the recent deaths in ThunderClan had been framed as "ThunderClan needs more warriors because a lot of the cats that've died recently were young warriors" rather than "ThunderClan needs more kits and for that reason, it sucks that so many she-cats died recently."

Hazeltail, Toadstep, Hollyleaf, Foxleap, and Icecloud were still young cats. Hazeltail was the eldest of the bunch and she was just shy of turning 4 years old when she died.

I think it should definitely have been framed as that rather than have all the blame placed on the she cats. It takes two.

It should have been a question of “lots of our youth is dead, who will parent the next generation?” And then the answer to that ended up mostly being Lionblaze and Cinderheart. Most of ThunderClan youth today is descended from them, likely an unintended and unnoticed consequence of this bottleneck ThunderClan experienced.

Also can we talk about ShadowClan for a second? Iirc they lost 10 cats in the great battle, it was more than any other clan at least, and then their youth was decimated by Darktail. ShadowClan is in a pretty dire place where, it’s fine for now, but unless something happens the gene pool is going to implode. ShadowClan is currently made up of four families- TigerDove, SnowScorch, StoneGrass, SlateCinnamon. That’s it, with the SnowScorch family having a significant presence in the clan, SnowScorch is tied with DustFern after all for the warrior cats couple with the most kids. Everyone in the clan alive today apart from Oakfur is a part of one of these four families either by blood or marriage. It’s a ticking time bomb in ShadowClan. Ironic in this regard how the strongest anti-clan swapping movement is in ShadowClan.

#acornflower

9 notes · View notes

needfantasticstories · 9 months ago

Text

[Febuwhump Day 11: time loop. TW: Major Character Death]

Chapter 11: For Want of Time

Thunder reverberated in the hills.

Legend and Hyrule walked near the back of the heroes with only Time behind them.

A swelling of power besides the looming storm grew heavy in the air, pressing in their ears and prickling their skin. Hyrule caught Legend's eye, and he knew from his companion's furrowed brow that he sensed it too: the growling, humming pulses of dark magic. No one else seemed to notice, but the pair slowed to a stop and looked around.

Time caught up to them, his armor clinking softly with each step. "What is it?" He too stopped and looked around.

Hyrule shook his head, and raised a quieting hand. It was fading. No. Moving. He had to listen with all his senses now.

There. Just beyond the next bend in the road. Hyrule pointed just as Legend drew his blade and shield.

"Something is coming fast," Legend confirmed, but too late.

A massive purple cloud rushed forward through the trees in a way no cloud would--clawing forward on its tendrils like a rampaging beast.

“Look out!” Hyrule shouted ahead to the others. I should have told them to look out sooner!

“Poison!” Legend yelled. But it was too late. It swarmed over the others like a tidal wave.

A heavy, gloved hand wrenched Hyrule back. He slammed into two bodies as a flash of blue enveloped them. Time had pulled him and Legend into his arms.

Hyrule gawked at the sight: a protective barrier encircled the three of them against the fog, and just in time. Purple and red swirls looped around the barrier and hand-like tendrils grasped and clawed, but just as quickly they faded.

The blue glow around them also dissipated.

“Check on the others!” shouted Time. He released the duo and pushed them forward, then bent over double to catch his breath.

Hyrule took only a few steps before he skidded to a stop. Legend slowed and drew close to his side.

This isn’t right! This can’t be right! Hyrule’s head swam.

The others were all dead. He didn’t have to touch them to see. Only skeletons remained of the men and boys he knew and loved. Wild’s blue tunic hung thin over a skeleton with one hand curled around Twilight’s arm guard. Four’s boots were barely visible under Sky’s sailcloth as the knight had tried to cover them both. Wind and Warrior lay in a mirror image of them under the soldier's royal blue scarf. A tiny wind nudged it, as if pleading them to get up, to move… The people Hyrule would kill for, and die for, no longer existed. He'd spent every waking moment with them for the last eight months, knew their secrets and fears and the flavor of their auras, which now had disappeared.

“No!” Time knelt at Twilight’s side, one hand hovering over his descendant, the other at his belt, as he looked at each of them. "My boys," He whispered. "Sky... how will any of us be..." He ran his hand through his hair, grabbing it viciously in his own fists.

Hyrule looked back over the corpses, and nearly bent double as his stomach thrashed, pushing its burning contents into his throat. Feeling unreal and weightless, he was at the side of the road, somehow. His muscles convulsed from his curling toes all the way up to his head as he vomited. Pressure surged upward into his head until his skin ached from the rushing blood, small vessels tingling as they burst while he heaved again and again. Sweat dripped from his brow. At last, his stomach unsteady but no longer clenching, he spat the bile and wiped sweat from his face only to look up and find Legend at his side caught in the same act. Despite being in no better condition, the Veteran put an arm around his shoulders and led him away from their respective messes and back to Time's side.

“We have to stick together,” he mumbled.

Hyrule felt like vomiting again. They would never be together again, not all of them. Not Warrior and Twilight and Four and--

“Boys! Take hold of my arms!” Time ordered in a gravelly voice, raw from tears he must have shed too quietly for them to hear. The man stood tall, looking down at the small blue ocarina he always carried. “Take my arms and don’t let go until I say so. This has to work, and I don't... I want to do this alone. Not if I can help it.”

The woods were so quiet. Hyrule nearly tripped as he ran to him. He kept his eyes on Time to keep himself from seeing the clothes hanging limp on the road until at last he clutched Time’s arm, solid and strong. The soldier already had the ocarina to his lips, and when Legend grabbed hold of Time’s other elbow, the first note filled the air. The tune surrounded them. The sun and the shadows at the feet jerked back a little.

Suddenly, Hyrule was not facing the same direction, nor was he holding Time’s arm. Instead, he walked beside Legend, exactly where he’d walked shortly before it all went so wrong. The same birds as before sang their tunes in the trees. The little magic auras of the plants and insects were the same. On the road ahead, like a vision from the divine, walked Wild, Twilight, Wind, Warrior, Four, and Sky. Alive. Healthy. Wearing their own flesh as they should, scars and slumped shoulders and all.

He turned to Legend, who gaped back at him with just as much shock as Hyrule felt.

“Boys, do you see anything?” Time asked urgently, running up from behind and grabbing their shoulders. “Where does the fog come from?”

“Time… what… what just happened?” Legend demanded. “What is that thing? Is it Nayru’s?”

“It’s a sacred relic from Zelda, one I would never use except…” Time scowled as he put it back on his belt, and sighed. “That can’t be how it happens. They need to live. Sky, he needs his Sun and then Wind… and if they don’t....”

“This could unmake everything,” Legend guessed.

Time nodded.

“We’re not losing them. So we’re going to stop it from happening.”

“We’re back in time?” Hyrule watched the others continuing ahead without them. He wanted to run after them, to check them for injuries he knew they didn’t have. He just wanted to feel their heartbeats under his fingers, to make sure they were real. But he stayed by Time’s side as he slowly began to walk.

“We have ten minutes before it happens again. Let’s figure out how to stop it.”

Hyrule let out his lingering surprise as he exhaled, though his mind still raced with questions. “Maybe we can go another way? Up those hills?”

“Too steep. Unless we give them all pegasus boots, there’s no way we’ll make it out of this valley in time.

Hyrule looked around again, but saw nothing else. Yet he felt something, up in the hills…

“There!” Legend shouted, pointing to a copse of trees on a steep hill up where the road curved.

Between the magic of the old trees, Hyrule felt a darkness lurking in their shadows. The rest of the hill was bare except for vibrant green grass. Approaching unnoticed would be impossible. Hyrule never would have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it, so strong were the golden-green humming magic of those ancient oaks. “I feel it too,” He told the others. “Something is hiding up there.”

Deciding what to do was trickier than Hyrule had hoped. They still hadn’t decided how best to find the source when a sound made them all pause.

Thunder reverberated in the hills.

“No!” Legend screamed, and Hyrule’s heart was with him, though he could not breathe in, let alone scream.

I can’t be here! I can’t relive this! The purple fog bellowed toward them. His brothers cried out in alarm, Sky pulling Four underneath his sailcloth, Wild grabbing Twilight’s arm, Wind clutching Warrior who loosed his cloak-sized scarf to cover them both…

Legend grabbed Time’s hand, and Hyrule shook free of his fear and hurried to do the same.

An eerie sound surrounded him. No, that note he’d heard before from the ocarina, and this time Hyrule felt the weight of it’s magic lifting him. Another and another note carried all around them. They slowed and then froze the fog and his brothers at once like a macabre painting.

The shadows jerked forward as the sun sprung back. The road whirled forward underneath the heroes.

They were back. Hyrule wiped the tear that fell down his cheek, and sniffed and cleared his throat. No use crying. They had brothers to save.

“I’m going to find out who he is.” he declared, letting go of TIme’s arm with only a moment of hesitation. He walked briskly toward the hill and readied his fairy spell.

“I’m coming.” Legend was at his side.

“That’s noble of you and all, but stay with Time. I have a disguise. No one suspects fairies, not even monsters.” And before either Legend or Time could protest, Hyrule had transformed and began flying up to the steep hillside.

He flew around the back of the copse. A magician in purple robes peered around a tree, holding open a book. It was small, but dense. The words on the page glowed red as the wizard chanted. Hyrule did not understand with his ears, but with his soul. It was the language of magic, each word filling the air with a heavy weight of power, of will.

Hunger. Soar. Kill. Consume.

The wizard lowered his hand, and turned around. Yellowed eyes fell heavy on Hyrule. He was pinned in place as he hovered.

He remembered a story: Aurora’s quiet tale of a wizard whispering poisonous words, one who corrupted her brother’s heart and turned him against her with lies and a lust for power. He recalled the horror on her face when he told her she’d lain a death-like sleep for a hundred years.

Shouts from the road told him the spell had worked. The deed was done, once more. This wizard had murdered his brothers.

The wizard flicked his hand, and Hyrule lurched sideways as if swatted by that hand. He tumbled head over heels in the air, beating his wings frantically to catch the wind. At last, he fluttered to a stop and flew upright.

Time! Legend! He raced as fast as his tiny wings could carry him around the mage, down the hill and through the trees and over the road.

The bodies lay on the ground, exactly as before, except one.

“Sky!” Hyrule shouted.

Time held the sky-knight. His face was white.

“I told him not to look,” Legend muttered.

“What happened?” Hyrule asked Legend, who knelt at Wild’s boots. His face was pale and scowling, tears gleaming down his cheeks.

“I could only save one.” Legend spoke thickly to Hyrule as he took his Hylian form, his voice still heavy from crying, and he gestured toward Sky. “I tried to warn him not to look.”

Hyrule could not help himself. He glanced at Four, and regretted it. A small, lonely skeleton lay there. He swallowed to keep the bile down.

“You could have died, going off like that, Rulie!” Legend’s eyes were bright with new tears, but sharp with anger too.

“Time was going to reverse it anyway, and I saw who did it. I know what happened.”

Time rubbed the Skyknight’s back as his crying stilled. “Sky, we’re going to go back and reverse this. We need you to help us.”

The knight sniffed, and pulled out of Time’s steadying hold, finding his own strength.

“How? What do you mean you can reverse this?”

Time held up the ocarina. “From my Zelda,” he explained, “I can’t use it lightly, but for this… I think Zelda would agree. We can go back to five minutes before this happens. I hoped it would give us more.”

Sky stood in shock, not moving at all. At last he turned to Legend, keeping his eyes away from the carnage. “Why me? Why did you save me , out of everyone? Wild was right there...”

“I wasn’t really thinking. I saw her, and I just…”

“Fi?” Sky reached back and touched her hilt.

Legend nodded.

Hyrule ran to Sky and embraced him. It felt so good to see at least one more of them survive. Sky hugged him tightly back.

“We can do this. We can save the rest of them!” Hyrule said to them all, “It’s a wizard casting a consuming spell. I’ve never seen it before, but I know the feel of it. It’s what Ganon used when he came to power. It wrecked my era. But he’s casting from a spellbook, and I don’t think he can cast without it. If we take it before he begins the spell, we might have a chance. Even if it’s just enough to buy the others time to run.”

“A wizard?” Time said, “Is that like a Sage?”

“I suppose so. They’re wicked. They use spells for curses or to threaten people and to gain power for themselves. Zelda Aurora was cursed by one who tricked her brother. They’re some of Ganon’s strongest supporters in my time. But I’ve learned they usually don’t pay attention to simple things: simple travelers, lone fairies. He swatted me away, and that was it. We can go back, and we can stop him!”

“Did you have a plan in mind?” Time raised his one unscarred eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Soon after, the notes of an ocarina carried over the heroes.

(To Be Continued...)

#linked universe #linked universe fanfic #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu time #skipwrites #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday11 #tw character death #tw dead body #now make those previous two plural #tw vomiting

13 notes · View notes

deeptrashwitch · 8 months ago

Text

Ashes of Freedom

Synopsis: An old kingdom filled of powerful people was forgotten after a war that costed so much to the people. Liberitas. Land of legends, steel and power. Two princes and the princess of the kingdom, spirits of the past that seem to be back.

They want vengance against the tyrant's cruel descendant and take back what is theirs. And nothing will stop them.

Tag list: @snootlestheangel @stuffireadandenjoy @catterdraws

Chapter 1: The past collides

For centuries, the continent was ruled under four royal families.

The first one, Ignia. Royalty of the east, recognizable for their hair so red as the forge fires they mastered during hundreds of generations, the second strongest dynasty of the old ages. All of them learned to forge, to create the most beautiful and lethal weapons across the continent. Every warrior under their command was trained to know how to fight with magic and non-magic weapons, they could fight even with broken swords or spears and their magic was reigned by their emotions.

The second one, Pra-ve, is famous nowadays but forgotten before. This royal house emerged back after the creation of the empire and the end of the war. All the power they have comes from money, the mines on their territory are the finest in all the continent, and their refineries are the most advanced as well. Even if they don’t have magic, they are an important part of this empire, they have the largest functioning port.

The third one, a name long faded. They, my children, were savages, never doing the best for their people just out of pride. Amazing hunters they were, I have to admit, but so arrogant and dependent on their magic based on the safety of earth. Our great emperor was so clever to stop them, ending their reign of blood and violence, bringing peace to their people.

But the fourth royal house, they were the real monsters. Taranis. Legends among humans, warriors without a trace of mercy and unhinged fighters. They ruled the west with iron fist, princes and princesses taught from their first steps how to fight under any condition, and they had the best naval fleet on all the continent. All of the heirs had green eyes, the story says they got them from a pagan deity itself, granting them strength and intelligence.

During the war they resisted even with their cavalry and infantry torn to shreds. Nertan Taranis, the bloodthirst king, fought as he was a wounded animal and killed as many soldiers as he could, covering himself in their blood. The massacre just ended once a brave soldier, tired of the death and pain, betrayed the deranged monarch. He took a sword and ended the principal lineage, beheading the crown prince.

They gave up after that, their people being less than a half because of the stubbornness of their rulers. That crown was kept by Nertan in a sign of shame until his deathbed, then his second despised son took the throne, Johan Taranis. Their legend…

-Mother, you may excuse me for interrupting your story, but I doubt it is the truth-said a man with blue eyes and black hair while he looked at his glass of wine, then looking at his mother-have you seen how king Darion and queen Lenna are? Are they legends? Surely they created those stories to cover their sheer stupidity

-I hate to give this bum the reason, but is impossible that peasants like that faint-hearted, second class kings are anything else than simple ants against our power-muttered with anger a blonde young man as his red eyes shined with disgust-Regilis Antartes should have done the same he did with the old Saveka’s royal family, execute them

-You shouldn’t underestimate such old lineage, Renkal, the books relate enormous and long battles between Liberita’s army and Galantia’s troops-interrupted another young man, also blond but with cold amber eyes, looking at the red-eyed and then the blue-eyed man-neither should you, Elric, you are the crown heir, it isn’t wise to underestimate your enemies. I’m sure that the Taranis princes would rip off your heart if they are given an opportunity

-How dare you speak so adamantly, you dog?!-snarled Renkal Antartes, the second prince, livid while looking at him-you should know by now that you aren’t on our level just to speak so freely, with an imperial prince. And you defend those Liberitas fools no less!

-Novaris, you insult me if you even think I would relate with such miserable people-commented the heir going back to look at his glass

-It’s obvious you don’t learn anything from your tutors, Markel Novaris, do you think that you have any will to talk here?-asked a black-haired woman with red eyes, standing up as she looked severely to the young one-you are nothing more than the bastard child of my husband, my son said it, you’re just a dog. Understood?

-...Yes, Empress-answered as he lowered his head

-Never forget that-ordered before pouring wine over his head with a malicious smile-now, get out of my sight, mutt

-I salute the holy princes and the great consort star of the empire, I may go now-Markel murmured before leaving the room

He still had wine dripping down his face and hair, ruining his suit. But before he could clean his face on his own, a voice called out for him.

-Markel, wait! Are you sure you are okay?-a girl who looked exactly as the empress asked while she gave him a handkerchief-here, you really should change clothes

-Thank you, princess Kianre-said emotionlessly before walking again

-You know you can call me “sister”! We are family!

The young man didn’t answer as he walked down one of the aisles with the lights outside the window as a beautiful sight. Arachne's Palace. It was the beautiful imperial palace, an amazing spectacle to the eyes that even foreign guests ask for more time to stay in those beautiful rooms and gardens.

But for him…it was disgusting. A gold-painted cage filled with double intentions and traps behind every corner, such a different environment than the one he met in his home. The attitude of the imperial family was repulsive, filled with rotten people, with fake smiles and twisted minds. He shook his head and continued walking trying not to acknowledge his reflection on the window, he couldn’t bear his looks after what his mom went through for them.

-Your highness?-called a man’s voice followed by the sound of steps

-Ah, Crissen, can I help you with something?-he asked, smiling to the gray-eyed and brown-haired man

-No, but are you alright, my liege?

-Don’t worry about it, it’s just another tantrum of the empress

-You should say something to the emperor, you are an imperial prince as well-Crissen said with a sigh, using his own sleeve to clean part of Markel’s face-no one has the right to treat you this way

-I’m just an illegitimate child, he won’t intervene on my favor

-My lord…

-Go back to your duties, General, I’ll continue from here

The General stayed silent for a second, but bowed down with respect before walking away. Markel started to think as he walked, squeezing the handkerchief on his hand as he asked himself why the second princess helped him. As he got inside his room, he threw the rag to the floor with hate and fury.

He doesn’t need the compassion of the Antartes family. Not now. Not ever.

Once he closed the door, the room walls were filled with golden symbols that created a powerful light, which soon disappeared and left the room as if nothing happened. He giggled silently before it became a maniac laughter, and then it became fury. With his blood boiling he took a lamp and threw it against the wall, then an ashtray and an ink jar followed it.

He growled as if he was an animal, but then smiled once he took a glance at the documents over his desk. Just a little bit of time and everything would be ready. Then his hands let out black sparks and whirlpools that started floating around to create a strong wind which ruffled his hair.

With a smile he started to chant in a mysterious language, until the black sparks fused and took a human silhouette. Markel stopped his chanting and looked at the silhouette with absolute respect. Then, it let out a sound that tried to be similar to a voice and slowly the place where the eyes were filled with a green shine.

-You took your time, Elder One

-My apologies, my liege, but I've been busy inside the palace-said as he bowed down towards the silhouette-even if I hate to deal with the imperial family, I brought useful information

-Before that, are you dripping wine?

-Just a tantrum from the empress, nothing to be uneasy about, your highness

-I'm sorry, Markel, if we knew they would treat you this way we would have never allowed you to go inside Fraxia. We should have kept you by our side

-I'm…flattered by what you are saying, royal highness, but I'm just a shadow under the royal family command-Markel murmured with a smile, grateful by the worry shown-it's nothing that should keep any of you awake at night, it's just wine. Also I'm here under my free will to be useful to the crown

-You should know better than anyone how much my brother hates when you say that of yourself. But I know you well enough to be sure that you won't change your mind, so let's hear what you found, Captain Novaris

-Yes, your highness-answered as he took the documents and made them float-not so long ago, during the reunion where the princes participated, the emperor showed these documents to Prince Renkal and me. These are marriage arrangements with noble ladies of our kingdom, and is asking for some exchanges

-Exchanges? What kind of?

-He wants the main port of the capital, the alliances he knows about and basically he wants to put our prince on a leash. He has the king and queen under his thumb, now he needs you to kneel against the imperial flag…just then he'll have the power he craves for

-So the emperor wants my siblings and I to be at his beck and call, huh? What an idiot

-Just give me the order, your highness, and I'll destroy everything that family could ever love under your names-asked with hate on his tone, kneeling with a hand over his heart-if with that I can secure the brighter future of our home and our royal family, then my shadows and I will burn to the ashes this continent

-Put your head up, Markel, it's not time yet to do so. It'll be soon though, I promise, and you'll be by our side when the time comes. Until then, you must remain like now, but also take care…we don't want a good friend getting hurt

-As you wish, your highness-muttered with a smile-the marriage arrangements are on their way to the capital, one of my shadows took them last night and they should arrive soon. It's always a pleasure to talk to the Whisper of the Winds, but I must retire now. I wish you joy and good riddance during Scaris honors

-Good luck, Captain, we'll see eachother sooner than you think

-I look forward for it, Your Highness

The silhouette disappeared slowly and once it was completely gone, Markel ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. He clicked his tongue when he felt it slimy and sticky, absolutely disgusted. Then took the papers and threw them to the chimney, looking at the flames in silence as the orange color reflected on his eyes while any proof of what he did got burnt to the ground. It was just a matter of time until the princes got the documents.

Soon a creaking sound put him on high alert, with his hand shot to his belt where he carried his dagger. With his weapon in hand, he looked at the door and how the magic symbols blinked and disappeared. Markel holded his breath waiting to see who enters, ready for anything.

-You…

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapters:

< - >

#ashes of freedom #original story #writing #fics #witch moment

8 notes · View notes

summertimemusician · 1 year ago

Text

Honestly the one thing that really frustrates me about Hyrule Warriors is how they cut Linkle being Link's sister, because otherwise it would have recontextualized Warriors entirely as a character.

This is mainly just headcanon territory, but something always bugged me about him being a knight in training from the get go, mainly because it's usually never any Link's first choice with First, Sky and Wild being the main exceptions (Gaepora took him in, and Gaepora runs the knights academy, makes sense he'd want to join then plus he'd probably want to protect Sun, plus Skylofts knights function differently than Hyrule knights, they don't have the same hierarchy and Skyloft is pretty peaceful before SS truly picks up so again, makes sense he wouldn't have troubles joining, we don't know First's reasons besides him seeing evil on the horizon and deciding if no one's was gonna do anything about it he might as well do it himself, and Wild was basically recruited at a young age for pulling the Master Sword while presumably young, he was never given a choice), we see it with Four, he's a blacksmiths apprentice under his grandfather and we see in his manga him practically baring his teeth at his father he won't become a knight and he doesn't pick up the sword unless really necessary, we see that with Time, he was raised as a Kokiri, he dreamt of adventure already from the drawings we see in his room, but he could always just become an adventurer if he wanted to though of course we see that change with the Hero's Shade, I'll come back to that, Wind? Was content living in Outset with Aryll before Ganon decided to fuck around and found out really hard, Legend was also a blacksmiths apprentice and adventurer and he only takes up knight training in the manga because Sir Raven inspired him, like even if he didn't want to be a knight the training would still serve him well (and lo and behold the advice pays off given all the shenanigans mostly caused by divine beings Legend gets saddled with), Hyrule obviously leaves in a very hostile world so he wouldn't even have ANY time to think about knight training, he's self taught because he'd literally die if he wasn't given monsters need his blood to ressurect Ganon so it's honestly a unique case of technically self defense, either he learned to hunt or he'd remain hunted, Twilight is the same case as Wind's, Ganondorf fucked around and found out with the wrong older sibling's people plus the protagonists heavily implied love interest(s) and got shafted into next week, him and Dusk don't have a personal connection besides Midna for him to stick around much and we see him go back to Ordon, so no knighthood there, so why was Warriors different? What motivated him?

I think Linkle being his younger sister would have been the answer.

Long post ahead, continue under your own risk

I know lots of people characterize Warriors as being of a noble line and joined the knights at the urging of his father, but let's not forget most Links are orphans so thinking Wars is an exception is a pipe dream. So that's out, however, in medieval times knights actually get plenty of benefits since they work mostly for lords, ladies and the local crown, being a knight is synonymous with being a noble or at least having a decent life at the cost of serving someone else and the Hyrulean knights don't really have any requisites before joining (though we do see long lines of knights exist, which some Links are descended from without their knowledge, so it's not farfetched to think that a good chunk of the knights of Hyrule qualify as members of noble houses loyal to the Hyrulean crown, would also explain their why they're ineffective a lot of the time too, if most of them grew noble and Hyrulean isn't war seeking {most of the time} then they wouldn't have any real experience), it would be a good way for Warriors to support himself as he climbs up the ranks, and most importantly, someone else, because he'd need to make that money to feed Linkle if she's his younger sister because most Links who take on elder sibling roles are at their best when trying to protect their younger siblings (Wind with Aryll, Twilight with Collin, to an extent Legend and Gulley, all Links are at their best when fighting/protecting someone else), Linkle could grown up without restrictions and he could support them both, making them work harder than other knights because he's already at a disadvantage.

Making it so he's in the perfect place at the right time to get noticed by Artemis before the War of Ages, and give him a reason to go against orders and fight rather than standby like other traineés, being discovered as the Hero in the process.

And as a result since Mask is in the war too, he gets inspired by Warriors (who as an older brother would definitely just snatch him, Wind, Tetra and heck even the Skull Kid under his wing because no way is he letting children younger than even his own little sister fight alone) and eventually becomes a knight too after presumably stopping his search for Navi or using his knight status to search more effectively, which gives us the Time we see in LU who eventually become the Hero's Shade, which trains Twilight. Because he looked up to Warriors while younger.

I just think it's a huge missed opportunity with a lot of room for angst/hurt comfort/drama, and also opportunities for Warriors, Legend and Wild to bond over not really liking the knights because they've all not likely been treated well by his fellow knights while young even though he himself is one, and that Warriors would absolutely be one of the first to throw hands if he heard another soldier talk badly about any of the Links, in this essay I will-

#linked universe headcanons #lu warriors #been replaying Hyrule Warriors while sleep deprived and this suddenly came to me while mid drinking coffee #we really need more Warriors appreciation and big sibling Warriors around here #I Shall Not Tolerate Warriors Slander #Twilight and Time own my entire heart and soul but he's pretty neat #The inherent tragedy of unknowingly helping guide your younger sibling to roam aimlessly as a spirit until his descendant pacifies him #all because all you did was for your younger sibling and you tried so so hard to protect the boy who'd become the man behind the ghost #Feels like that'd be a punch to the gut for Warriors and Twilight both once the Realization™ hits #Linkle and Mask/Time and Wind both being little shit siblings to Warriors and bullying him into resting my beloveds #Artemis/Sheik joining in because meddler is her/their middle name #Legend Warriors Four and Wild both disliking the knights for a variety of reasons but only Warriors is passive aggressive about it #Until someone bad mouths one of his shield brothers that is then he's as feral as any Link #It's all about giving Warriors more depth ya know?#Summer's Sleep Deprived LU Ramblings

39 notes · View notes

levishika · 8 months ago

Text

Time meets his hero: Extra Content

a/n: Here's where the link to the most recent chapter of the main fic is so if you missed it do go check it out.

Chapter 3

Part 1: Timeline of the links for this fic and whose related to who

So for this particular story the set timeline is Sky first, then Four before we reach Time. Time is where the timeline splits into three, Legend, Twilight and Wind. After Legend is Hyrule for that part of the split timelines before joining back at Warriors. Last is of course Wild.

This is the way all the Links are connected timeline wise but relationship wise it's complicated. So I'll be going from first to last in the timeline on who they're related to.

1. Sky: Sky is related to Four and Legend, who I headcannon as part of the royal line Legend as his Zelda's brother and Four as his Zelda's cousin.

2. Four: Four is related to Legend through Sky as well as Wind, due to the shield that Wind had passed down to him, which is again a headcannon. He is also related to Warriors through Wind which will be explained slightly more in Wind's part.

3. Time: Time is biologically related to Twilight due to him being his direct descendant as well as Wild through Twilight. He is also related to Wind and Warriors due to time shenanigans.

4. Legend: Legend as previously mentioned is biologically related to Sky and Four.

5. Twilight: Twilight is biologically related to Time and has Wild as a descendant.

6. Wind: Wind is related to Four and Warriors. His relationship with Warriors is due to how I believe that Warriors family are descendants of Winds thus making the connection to four as well.

7. Warriors: Warriors is related to Four and Wind as previously explained.

8. Wild: Wild may possibly be Twilight's descendant therefore making him related to Time.

9. Hyrule: Hyrule is possibly the only one with no blood relations but he is a descendant of Legend's this making him related to Sky and Four as a result.

The relationships and timeline were made after lots of thinking about how the chain may be connected besides the hero's spirit and took a while to figure out. It is by no means cannon or set in stone. Both are just headcannons and my own interpretation of things.

So I hope this helps explain some things for people. I'll probably make another one of hers explaining if the chains know each other as heroes of the past or not so there's something to look forward to. I hope you enjoyed reading.^^

#linked universe

5 notes · View notes

cat-alyzing · 1 year ago

Text

Some specific things to know about Blood to Blaze that is specific to it for those learning about it!

The clans are now called Coteries! This is because a coterie is a small group of individuals who share a common interest/goal instead of a clan which is like a family. Within the Coteries there are specific families that form officially after two generations with a specific theme and claim to fame. An example would be the Thunderbrush Coteries Plum Family that’s all the descendants of Star Plumpelt (Canon Redstar) and includes Star Oakfoot, Birchface, Yewfreckle (Frecklewish), Star Pinemuzzle, and Tigerclaw. The only reason Tiger did not keep his kit name, which was Elmkit, was because his father ran away which relinquished their infamous family from the succession line leaving him to take up his mother’s family name after a big cat, being a tiger.

The five four coteries are: Thunderbrush, Bogbound, Riverway, and the Swardfell. Named after their specific environments which separates them from each other.

Much like canon there is a central Leader, their Second, and the Medics. Every coterie has to have at least one medic but occasionally there may be multiple seconds with one specifically being called the heir while the other is just a helpful paw to train the upcoming heir to leadership. Besides these three crucial role there are the Oracles. A special very exclusive role held by those with a clear connection to the different scapes which reside at the meeting grounds to act as guides to all coteries.

Within the coteries there are the apprentices and warriors (general term for all cats who’ve passed their apprenticeship). Once clearing their official training any new named cat can take extra lessons on specific jobs like cooks, guards, carers, etc. and will be trained by any experienced cat in that role. Because the coteries are different in what they need to learn for their environments they have special roles that pertain to just them.

Families themselves are much more tied to blood then even canon does. While the coteries have what’s called the Blood’s Bluff which is where a dame or sire may choose to hide the other cat that created the kits they do have to disclose the other side to a medic or oracle to not cause a mix of kin and as a backer in case they are accused of being half blood specifically. Even here the main parent can lie to save themselves and their kits but it is shaky to do so. While the living won’t know what’s the truth the dead do and will use that at a cats attempt to ascend to the Star Scape (Starclan). A family of prominence that adopts a known outside kit into their fold is considered fully a part of their family unless specifically severed even though they obviously don’t share blood. If a family wants to split it may but it is a very messy matter as it is essentially denouncing blood shared with your kin.

#blood to blaze au #btb worldbuilding #worldbuilding #once I spoof up a master post I’ll pop this on there #just for ease of access for newcomers #wc au #warrior cats au

7 notes · View notes

halos-top-alien-model · 1 year ago

Text

Sangheili Bracket Round 1 Match 21

More info below:

Meduu the Fierce:

Debuted in the Halo Encyclopedia (2022 edition)

The daughter of the legendary Xytan 'Jar Wattinree, Meduu violently took control of her father's property holdings after his death.

Additional commentary: Did not realize how little info there was of her in the encyclopedia. Honestly, I imagine her to have inherited her father's genes of massive fucking height. So badass warrior woman who's huge. What more do you need than that?

Submitted propaganda: Xytan 'Jar Wattinree's daughter. We know basically nothing about her except that she took control of all her father's property holdings through force. She's probably extremely intelligent and badass and stupidly TALL, just like her old man. Meduu would be the coolest character ever if someone actually remembered she existed.

Bal'Tol 'Xellus:

Debuted in Halo: Broken Circle

A descendant of Ussa 'Xellus and the kaidon of the Refuge during the 2550s. Prior to becoming kaiden, who would train to be a professional floatfighter, only to have his dream cut short when he injured his left arm, damaging the nerves and losing some of its responsiveness for the rest of his life. He also has PTSD from the time he led soldiers to battle against a cannibal faction. Upon the death of his uncle N'Zursa 'Xellus, he would take over as kaidon of the Refuge. Sometime after, Blood Sickness took the life of his intended mate Limtee 'Xellus. Rumors also spread that his second in command, C'tenz, was his offspring.

In Nov. 2552, rebellion would break out, led by the Blood Sick 'Kinsa, who claimed to be sharing the body with the spirit of another late Blood Sick rebel leader. Bal'Tol, C'tenx, and head of Refuge Security Tirk 'Surb would conclude that 'Kinsa needed to be executed before the rebellion got too out of hand. Joining them for the arrest were six heavily armed patrollers and the priest Tup 'Quk, where Bal'Tol would make a final offer for 'Kinsa to live as long as he do so in isolation, only for 'Kinsa to refuse and for his reinforcements to arrive. Bal'Tol also called for reinforcements as his men struggled against Norzessa - whose Blood Sickness had progressed to the point he shrugged off mortal wounds and intensive damage. He would be finished off, but Bal'Tol would become wounded and Tirk would be mortally wounded. When the kaidon's reinforcements finally arrived, the surviving rebels successfully fled. They would then take over four different Sections of the Refuge as Bal'Tol recovered and attempted to find a Blood Sickness cure, made difficult due to the needed medical supplies being located in area the rebels had taken. Furthermore, another area taken by the rebels housed supplies needed to repair failing repellent field generators. Bal'Tol would reluctantly stay behind whilst C'tenz led a raiding party against the rebels, but the party would be intercepted and fail their mission - with C'tenz being captured and an Ussan named V'ornik 'Gred being sent into space in a maintenance pod. Whilst 'Kinsa tried to use C'tenz as leverage to make Bal'Tol surrender, the kaidon instead challenged him to a floatflight match for the fate of the Refuge. Meanwhile, a supply ship - Journey's Sustenance - fleeing the Great Schism and looking for the rumored Ussans would come across V'ornik and rescue him, making contact with acting kaidon Xelq 'Tylk shortly afterwards. Bal'Tol and 'Kinsa would hold their duel, with 'Kinsa bringing an nontraditional weapon and an extra fighter. Because of this cheating and the rebel's having in their numbers a legendary floatfighter, things were going sour for Bal'Tol. Then, the long deactivated Enduring Bias would be repaired by Journey's Sustenance's Huragok Sluggish Drifter. Enduring Bias would save Bal'Tol and kill 'Kinsa when he continued to be hostile, also informing Bal'Tol of the former Covenant ship's arrival. With the tables turned, the rebellion would slowly be quelled across the Refuge, before Bal'Tol went before his people and announced the end of the Covenant, the cure of the Blood Sickness, and the offer for anyone to return to Sanghelios. After this, Enduring Bias would reconnect the Refuge's fragmented habitats into a ring-shaped structure. Bal'Tol would continue to live at the Refuge as its kaidon, but pledged to visit Sanghelios once he had the free time to.

#halo #halo sangheili #sangheili #halo aliens #halo elite #halo elites #halo fandom #halo tumblr #tumblr bracket #tumblr tournament #meduu the fierce #bal'tol 'xellus #bal'tol xellus #baltol xellus #halo lore

4 notes · View notes

three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat · 2 years ago

Note

I love Wind having master sword burns so so much, please give deets :D

*taps mic* I wrote that fic like, nearly a year ago, so I don't remember much, but I can provide a few details (most about the fic itself, as the whole "MS burns" thing is pretty simple

You can't wield the Master Sword if you do not have the hero's spirit. Zelda, however, as the descendant of Hylia, can wield it (which doesn't make sense to me but whatever)

This was actually before I hopped on the train of Four being Zelda’s cousin, I think, so really I was going for the descendant of someone with the hero's spirit also being able to hold it (to a lesser degree)

I've always visualized Wind's scars to cover his entire hand (hands?), like he laid it evenly on a sheet of hot metal, as opposed to like, just where the hilt touched him. No unblemished skin.

I started another fic about Wind without the hero's spirit (entitled as "ANGST HAMMER" in my docs, whereupon he used the Master Sword to kill Dark Link, and thus died himself) but never got more than a few lines (enclosed below, because I will probably never finish it unless a sudden bout of inspiration strikes. Be warned, it's quite old)

A detail only in that fic- Wind also has scars on his shoulder from where the hilt of the Master Sword rested

(Fun side note- those two are the only fics where my hc of "Blue becomes Edward Elric when his height is mentioned" is present)

This fic was intended to be a looooot angstier but somehow it ended up as a comedy. Writing Wind is just very fun and it's somewhat hard to take everything seriously from his pov

I looked up whether or not WW Link wore gloves to base the placement and extent of his scars on

The burns never got past, like, second degree. Most of the pain was like, a magical thing (the divine curse mentioned by Sun)

There's a running gag in my fics of a Link meeting another Link and calling them "Other Link", and here Sun does it as well (she and Sky are dumbass4dumbass)

This isnt relevant at all but someone made art of the scene where Groose picks up Wind and looking at it now, I just realized Sky is standing in the "you know I had to do it to em" (I think anyway) pose and I'd be upset but that's just so funny

Wind has always known he doesn't have long.

Ever since he pulled the Master Sword, he's held his lifespan in his hands, grains of sand spilling between burned fingers.

Was it not enough? To fight Ganondorf, blood from broken blisters slickening the Master Sword? To live every day in pain, sometimes not even able to do the most basic of tasks?

(He already knows the answer, has known it since the first day he drew the Goddess's blade.

It never will be.)

"Good thing the old man is here, right?" Wild says, nudging Wind's side and sending a jolt of pain through him.

Today has been a bad day; he'd woken up unable to curl his fingers in all the way, and his shoulder has been burning, only worsened by the hilt of his sword rubbing against the scars there.

"Yeah." He agrees, tuning back into the conversation. Sky had been demonstrating how his beetle worked, only to wedge it in between two branches out of arm's reach.

"Is it just a hero's spirit thing to be short?" Legend asks. "Time is the only tall one here."

"I don't know." Time says, ruffling Wind's hair. He tries not to wince at the jolt it sends through his already frayed nerves. "The sailor might still get taller than me."

Wind tries not to laugh at that; if Legend is right, then he really might be able to get taller than all of them, if the curse doesn't kill him first.

"I could still get taller." Four rolls their eyes.

"Yeah, right." Warriors scoffs. "You're even more of a shrimp than Wind."

"I'm not a shrimp! This is a perfectly normal height!"

"For a ten year old, maybe."

"I don't know." Legend says. "I think it's more like an eight year old."

He twists the blade into the Dark Link's chest, fire burning through him. It howls, clawing at him.

"Wind, no!" He hears Time yell.

He looks back, smiling. "It's what heroes do, right?"

#this ask took a little while to respond to because i forgot it existed lol #mb and nancy scream about hats #mb's writing

5 notes · View notes

anubianwrites · 1 year ago

Text

6. Lover's Moon

The darkness of night crept across the Dark Plains, slithering over the ghostly white grass and blackened earth. Brok looked over the lands from the tall rock face that hides their surface encampment. The young werewolf warrior contemplated his coming responsibilities. Just one month ago his father was murdered in the Contest of Marr. A melee between clan alphas to gain the blessing of their goddess, the hag goddess of werebeasts, Marr that takes place beneath the blood moon. The ghostclaw clan cheated by coating their claws in debilitating poison and used it to overcome Brok’s father Kurr’s superior strength and speed. They dishonored the clan and disabled them. The clan retreated to their lands. Brok would never allow it to be seen but he felt entirely lost without his father’s wisdom and leadership. He was only 18, too young to ascend to the throne of the Crescent Moon Clan. Yet here we were, being primed to be seated on the Crescent Throne. The shamaness Charlotte has secluded herself to commune with the clan ancestors, so Brok can be issued his challenge of manhood to ascend his fathers position. Normally his father would issue the challenge and demand a boon be performed for the clan, or a direct battle to the death. Brok was unprepared, he’d only just completed his first hunt and felled a strong beast to feed the clan, proving he’s a worthy hunter and deserving of the elders respect, and earn the right to claim a female. Claim he did. A proud and mighty woman his own age, Kara.

The mulatto skinned female climbed up the rock face to the young male. She came up behind him and rubbed her hands over his broad, strong bare chest. Her sweet, firm voice broke the silence. “Tell me what troubles you, lover.” Brok looked over his shoulder, to catch her beautiful amber eyes.

“The worries a man faces when he has to prove himself to his clan. I’m nowhere near my fathers equal. How can I become alpha, when I lack his wisdom, his strength and cunning. My education is incomplete. A man needs his father in these times, Kara and I am robbed of mine.” The woman slid in front of him to look him in the eye.

“Wisdom takes time, but you are strong, your fathers son. You have his strength, I see it in you. A strong and powerful male who can lead. No one is better to lead us. His spirit is in you. Charlotte and the other elders can provide you wisdom for now. I accepted your claim because I see your fathers power and more in you. You can do this my love.” She rubbed his chest. He looked down into her eyes and smiled.

“You give me strength and your words I know to be true for you have no malice or deceit in you. You have great honor. I am glad you agreed to be mine. I need you more than ever.” He kissed her lips.

“You have me, always. One day your father will be avenged and put to rest proper. For now your clan needs you.” She smiles gazing into his brown eyes, like an owl's wing. They’d been mated less then six months, but they were both eager to consummate their pairing. Clan law dictates this cannot be until the new alpha has ascended.

The moon slowly crept over the horizon. The only time the sky was clear. They gazed at it together. A massive muscled mocha skinned man with four scars over his chest and stomach approached at the base of the rock. “Brok. The elders are ready for you.” He was Brute, their best and most brutal warrior. His father’s right hand, now he’d be his. Brute nodded to him in acknowledgement.

Brok and Kara descended the rock together and headed into the clan holdings, the subterranean cave system that protected and nurtured their clan for millena. Brute led them down into the dark caverns. These caves were their workshops, their pantries, homes, and best protection. Brok followed the massive mountain of a man, feeling a bit intimidated by him. Brok felt lucky to have him as an ally. They entered into the grand cavern, their largest area and clan hall. Their clans trophies filled the chamber, and a great stone throne made of stalagmites, covered in furs, most from werewolves conquered and powerful beasts slain by past alphas and mighty warriors. In front of the throne stood the four elders and the shaman, Charlotte. The pale old woman smiled as they entered and Brok stood before them.

“Brok. Son of Kurr, we have communed with the ancestors and sought their guidance. We have discussed among ourselves and reached consensus. Your trial of manhood and ascension has been chosen.” Brok stiffened and puffed out his thick chest, taking a stance of bravery despite the terror pounding in his heart. “We charge you with restoring the clan's honor. The festival of Marr is not over and the clans still dwell at the festival grounds. You will go there and take part in the Rite of Blood. Challenge the son of the Ghostclaws, Stag, the eldest, by Marr’s witness beneath the second blood moon. He cannot refuse without shaming his father and clan. Kill him. Avenge us and your blood and you prove yourself a man in the eyes of the clan and rightful alpha to lead us. Brute and the warriors will escort you and ensure your safety. You go to this challenge a boy, come back to us a man. Come back to us strong and proud. Prepare yourself. You leave for the festival at midnight. Char and Grot hold the clan’s place there, they will expect you.” Brok thumped his fist to his chest with a meaty thud.

“For the Crescent Moon! For Blood and Clan!” Brok proclaims loudly and pumps his fist into the air. An uproarious cacophony joined in unison with him. Brok was led from the hall. He returned to his cave, his abode where his father and mother raised him. He sat on his fathers fur bed. He softly prayed there.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help father…I let you down, letting them kill you like that. I won’t fail you again. I won’t. I’ll make you proud, old man.”

“You always made him proud.” Charlotte stood at the cave entrance. Brok jumped to his feet respectfully.

“Shaman. I bid you welcome to my home.” he said ceremoniously.

“Oh enough of that young man. May I sit with you?” she asked.

“Of course, you are always welcome.” he said, helping her down onto the furs.

“Thank you, dear. I’m sorry to eavesdrop. But you need to know how proud he was of you. You’rre always so hard on yourself, wanting to measure up to your father. A powerful man, thick biceps, strong heart. A wise man. I loved and respected him deeply. He always demanded the best from you, but only because he saw the man you are becoming. He could see the man you will be. You never failed him, never. Don’t ever doubt yourself like that Brok.” she patted his knee. “You will be victorious and return our new alpha, of this I am certain. Just remember your training and listen to your instincts. You have your fathers heart and strength. You have unquestionable honor. You will win.” She pushed herself up, Brok assisted the elder. She smiled and rubbed his chest over his heart. “You’re his son, and he never doubted you. He loved you with everything.” Brok couldn’t help but smile and puff out his chest proudly at the encouragement. His heart told him all of this, but hearing it from his grandmother affirmed it. “I will leave you to prepare my boy.”

“Thank you, Shaman... Grandmother. Your words always clarify my doubts. Your wisdom is always welcomed.” He nodded respectfully to her. The shaman smiled at her grandson, beaming with pride.

Brok meditated on his father, the former favored of Marr. His pelt a midnight black, eyes like the silver moon. The blessing of the goddess kept the chosen in their hybrid form. He knew this to be his father his whole life. The strong scent, the soft fur. He was like a massive boulder of muscle and claws and fur. To see him fight was like watching titans battle. Brok was proud to be Kurr’s son. His father was harsh and stern but never cruel or dispassionate. Brok labored to be as strong, as fast, as clever as the old wolf. A few hours later he received another visitor. His mate.

“There is still some time before you must leave. I wanted to be with you if that is ok.” Kara said. Brok smiled and held a hand out to welcome her.

“You are always wanted.” He responded. She sat down on his lap facing him, straddling him. Wrapping her arms around his neck and gazing into his eyes. She traced his strong stubbled jaw with her hand. Her intentions were clear. Brok agreed and they kissed. She giggled as he lifted her up and rolled onto her back. Frantically they tore what little clothing they wore off and turned to ravenous congress.

By clan law they could not produce offspring until Brok ascended, but the act of congress was not forbidden. A loophole the two lovers exploited constantly.

They woke up wrapped in furs some hours later. The time was approaching. Kara ran her hand over his chest and abs, his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. “I want to come with you. I want to see you fight and win.” Kara pleads.

“I expect the honorless Ghostclaws will try something dishonorable. I can’t deny you to come with me. But I will say I want you safe, we’re the clans future.” Brok stated plainly and honest. Kara pushed herself up and looked him in the eyes.

“I want to witness with my own eyes, when my male becomes the alpha he is destined to be. When my male claims his manhood.” Brok could see the hunger in her eyes for this, how her pride for him swelled in her. Brok couldn’t bring himself to question her desire again. He smiled and nodded.

“Then I will reclaim our clans pride with my woman by my side.” He stated.

“As it should be, we do it together.” Kara added. They kissed again, Kar climbed on him as he kissed and growled. She broke the kiss as they began to fall back into their animalistic desires. “We must prepare to leave, my love. I will reward you after, when you’re bathed in our enemies blood.” Brok huffed at such a thought, arousing and intense. Kara knew how to focus her wild wolf.

They dressed and gathered their weapons. Kara proudly carried his sword clung to her chest. Brok, armed with his spear. They assembled outside the clan caverns outside. The clan was assembled in a row, to see them off. Brute and four other heavily scarred and muscled males flanked the two of them protectively. As they began to walk down the row the clan in unison thumped their fists to their chests in honor of their future alpha departing for his challenge. Brok admitted to himself he was scared to face Stag, but his pride stifled that fear quickly. He needed to do this, avenge his father, reclaim his clan's honor.

The travel was swift, they ran much of the way, it took them a day to reach the festival grounds. The clans were still assembled, festivals, games, celebrations and the like raged. Brok and his warriors met their clan mates holding the clan's place. A broad and muscled woman held her fist to her chest as they approached, it was Char. “Welcome brothers and sister to the clan encampment.” Char nodded to Brok. “It is good to see you Brok. You come at a good time. The blood moon will rise in nine hours. The Ghostclaws have been gloating and staying drunk. Be good to see them bloodied.” Char said with malicious glee. Brok also desired this. He’d thought of nothing else besides finally being able to put his pups in Kara. A thought Kara too thought of, constantly.

A male voice loudly yelled “Oh looks more sheep fucker crescents arrived! Watch you’re livestock!” the drunkard taunted, “You might lose more weak pups if you don’t keep your eyes open!” Char was livid.

“Fuck you and fuck off before i tear out your eyes and fuck your sockets, mange-back!” she screamed. The drunkard only laughed. He was a wild red haired youth, no more than 15, mulatto skin and skinny as a rail. He was Sturr, the youngest son of the Ghostclaw alpha. A raucous and cowardly braggart. Brok stepped up, huffing with rage.

“Get your gutless pup out of my clan space before I strap him to a stake and use him as a flag!” Brok bellowed, shoving Sturr and knocking him into the mud. Two older ghostclaw males stormed over to defend the shrinking coward scrambling backwards, whimpering. Brok glared them all down, ready to strike. He was eager to kill them. An older male shoved the ghostclaws away hollering at them for being idiots. He was Gruk, the alphas right hand, and far more diplomatic.

“They are young and foolish, they mean no harm. They won’t violate your space again.” he stated. Brok was seething.

“See that they do and keep them in line.” Brok spat.

Brute patted his back as Brok returned to the clan tent. “Your chance will come, boy. You’ll show them real balls.” Brute tried to comfort him. Brok nodded with a grunt.

The blood moon began to rise and the clans were gathering in the communal space for the announcement. Brok’s chance had come. Before the alpha of Clan Mooncrest could speak Brok bellowed.

“Clans of the wolf! I am Brok! Of Clan Crescent Moon! Son of Kurr. The honorless shits of Ghostclaw, broke clan rules before Marr and slew my father with poisons. They robbed my clan of it’s leader and pride. Beneath the blood moon this night, by rite I claim the Rite of Blood. By witness of Marr, Stag of Ghostclaw Clan I call you out to combat. To settle my grievance. Bring your honorless skin to the field and face me!” There is much uproar, the Ghostclaw Gruk spoke.

“You are no alpha, pup, you have no claim here. Your alpha fell in honorable combat, these baseless claims are sad and show your clans weakness. You dishonor us all with your whimpering! This is a weak willed attempt to spitefully strike at us like a malicious drow!” he laughed. The ghostclaws laughed loudly.

Alpha Crispryne of Clan Mooncrest, a strong older woman bellowed. “Silence! He has the right to call this challenge! By common clan law, he can invoke the rite of blood! By witness of Marr, this cannot be refused. Stag must honor the duel and present himself now.” the voices calmed. The entirety of Ghostclaw clan glared daggers at their rival, wolves growled.

Brok stalked the field huffing, his sword and spear in hand. Freshly sharpened. He paced eagerly. He turned to his clan and bellowed “Haroo!” they returned the bellow proudly. Broks heart was pounding. He was ready, his chest was heaving with anticipation. His eyes fixed on the task. They waited for nearly an hour before the alpha of Ghostclaw, proudly displaying the blessing he won, his two sons driven before him. Stag and Sturr. Stag was not muscular at all, he had a swimmer’s build, but only just. Armed with a spear, the boy did not want to do this, clearly drunk. Brok wanted to humiliate them for what they did. The alpha said something to Stag, Brok couldn’t hear. But the boy stalked out into the field with his spear in hand. They stared down at each other. Stag sneered.

“Ready to die like your daddy, pup.” Stag was easily four years his elder and already had three pups of his own.

“I’m going to win this, Stag, and I’m going to mount your head in my clans trophy room like the shameful dead mutt you are.” Brok seethed. Alpha Crispyne bellowed.

“Only one will emerge alive. Begin!” she commanded.

Stag swung his spear at Brok, he deflected with his sword, sliding down the haft delivering a slash to Stag’s thigh before moving out of range. Stag stabbed with the spear wildly, catching Brok’s forearm and leaving a deep gouge. He blocked with his own spear, grunting with pain. He could tell they poisoned the spear tip, like cowards. He was not going to die. Brok used his strength and charged, catching Stag off guard and knocking him to the ground in rage. Brok snapped Stag’s spear and ran it deep into the pale man's side as he tried to roll away. Stag screamed in pain as the barbed spear sank into his liver.

Brok stalked the field as Stag was down and crawling pitifully, his own poison causing his body to start losing feeling. Brok kicked him, sending the male flying across the field, the spear snapping out of his side with the landing. Brok ran with a howl of fury as he dropped his weapons and started beating the pitiful runt in the face. Sitting on the chest as Brok, a much larger male beat him, howling with fury. Memories of his fathers death just one week prior raging through his mind.

Kurr was down, he couldn’t move. Brok was screaming, held back by his clanmates as he tried to rush to his fathers aid. Time slowed as he saw the fear, the worry in his father’s eyes. Not for himself, not for his own life. But for his son, his clan, his family. Tears streamed from Brok’s eyes as he watched, restrained from helping as the ghostclaw alpha brutally chopped off his head. His father closing his eyes in acceptance. Brok couldn’t control his sorrow, his wrath. He beat Stag until his face was just swollen pummeled flesh. Brok had won but he wasn’t done. Covered in blood he got up and grabbed his sword as the Ghostclaw clan screamed, hollered and bellowed. It was all noise. Brok couldn’t hear it. Their alpha stood unmoving. Still and calm.

Brok was panting heavily with anger, his face twisted in a craze of fury, he took his sword, lifted the barely alive Stag up by his hair and made the clan watch as he slowly sawed Stag’s throat. Reveling in their clan’s pain and anger as he cowed them with his brutality and cruelty. His clan was dishonored. He wouldn’t let the cowardly Ghosts keep it. The body fell to the ground, flesh tearing as he broke through bones with the sword. He held the head aloft in victory and roared with primal savage rage. Brok had it. His honor. His family’s honor. His father’s honor back. He conquered the rival and robbed them of their future alpha. He gloated and paraded the severed head before them. His prize. Brok was ascended. He stalked off the field with the head as Alpha Cyspryne proclaimed the rite over and Brok the victor. Officially the grievance was settled. “Brok of Crescent Moon Clan! You are the winner of the Blood Rite. By law the grievance is settled before Marr!” The Gostclaws howled and screamed in protest. Hollering this was unfair, that it was rigged, that it was cowardly. But their master silenced them all.

“The Son of Kurr bested my son Stag. This was honorable. Clan Ghostclaw has no grievance with this outcome. Before Marr let this matter be settled between the clans!” The great wolf proclaimed and gave a deep howl. His clan remained silent.

Brok returned to the clan tent lauded and celebrated by his warriors. His mate waited for him in his private tent. Brok didn’t celebrate long, he drank a mug of beer and stalked off to have his other prize. The severed head displayed on a stake before the clans tent. He threw the tent flap aside and stormed in, huffing. His woman waited eagerly for him. She stood up, naked before him and lunged at him, he caught her and they kissed wildly. She growled like a beast. Brok took her like a beast, for hours they loudly and brutally mated, grunting, howling, moaning. They fell silent just before dawn. Brok left his mate sleeping as he emerged from the tent. Brute was on watch, he turned to Brok and grinned broadly. “Going like that, you’ll breed a whole new clan in a fortnight!” Brute chuckled.

“Gotta provide the clan with plenty of fresh blood. My woman is insatiable!” Brok chuckled as he got himself some water and took in the cresting day. “What news.” Brute nodded towards the Ghostclaw camp.

“Been quiet since you showed them what a real man with balls looks like! Sulking like depressed milk maids.” Brute chortled. Brok grinned proudly. “You did good. Kurr would be damned proud…Alpha.” Brute added, bowing his head in respect and acknowledgement. Brok couldn’t help but puff up his chest and beam with swollen pride at earning the title. It felt alien, but good…right.

“I had too…” Brok said resolutely. Brute nodded.

“Aye, you did. The clan has its honor and pride back. It’s all administration and keeping your balls emptied in your woman now!” Brute chortled.

“Did a good job of that all night, Kara was determined.” Brok added as he chugged the crisp water, letting some dribble down his chest.

“Sounded like it, ahh the joy of youth.” Brute mused. Brok chuckled.

Something skittered by. Brok’s attention snapped. Something was moving.

“Wake the others quick. We’re being attacked!” Brok called. An explosion went off as something shattered, throwing Brok and Brute to the ground. Screams erupted. And the sounds of struggle. Brok rushed in the tent, they were under assault by young teens with knives. Char was dead, her throat slit. He delivered punches to faces and skinny guts as he ran through his thoughts on Kara. He rushed to where she slept to a grisly sight. Sturr was sitting on her, his knife bloody. He slit her throat so deeply it cut her windpipe. Brok felt such rage. But Sturr was quick and jumped as Brok lunged.

“I KILLED YOUR BITCH! I KILLED YOUR BITCH! I KILLED YOUR BITCH! “ he screamed like a victory cry as he ran. Brok was faster, he tackled the arrogant lout into the dirt screaming enraged as he tried to retreat to the ghostclaw camp. Brok beat the pups face in horrified rage and pain, all over again. All over again his loved ones were stolen from him. Brute caught up and restrained Brok.

“Back down, you gotta back down!” Brute yelled, holding Brok captive in his massive arms. Grot took custody of Sturr.

Clan Mooncrest was on scene immediately. Broks clan easily captured the other youths, five of them. Brok disarmed Sturr and made sure the arm was broken. The pup whimpered pitifully.

The elder alpha Cysprine held a hand to silence the ruckus. “This will be addressed before the clans in one hour. The captives stay with their captors for now.” The ghostclaw alpha was calm, watching from afar. Calculating, cold and detached.

The captives were tied to stakes in the Crescent Moon clan camp. Brok went to his murdered mate and wept. He wept, he howled, he held her close. The clan howled in mourning outside. Brok howled loudly, his young heart broken. He closed her eyes and just sat there. He felt renewed rage and pain…and hate. He performed the rites over her. Washed her body. Wrapped her in cloth with her sword in hand. He said the prayers. Brute entered the tent.

“Brok. It’s time, Cysprine calls for the clans to assemble. Your first test as Alpha.” Brute said sadly. Brok gathered himself and grunted, stroking Kara’s cheek. Grot approached as Brok exited the tent.

“I’ll look after them, Alpha.” he said mournfully. Brok grabbed and embraced the older male tightly, showing him his support and love. Grot embraced him back and patted his back nodding in understanding.

The young ghostclaws were dragged to the clan center. The alpha Cysprine stood in judgment. Brok stomped forward. Brok knew the law. He yelled, “They snuck into my camp! They attacked my clan! By right their lives are mine!” Brok hollered. “They broke faith in the early hours and murdered my clanmates…my mate…my love. By the common laws of the clans they broke the sacred rite of Marr in this sacred place. They spilled blood they had no right to spill! I claim their lives as recompense!” Brok wrathfully proclaimed, thumping his chest in dominance.

The Ghostclaw alpha stalked forward tall and proud. He bellowed. “The pups acted out of place, they committed honorless acts and shame their clan and me! But they are ignorant wild pups! I call on you, respected Alpha of clans. Let them be spared, they are young, stupid, and need to be cowed by their elders. On behalf of Ghostclaw Clan, I ask you to intercede!”

Alpha Cysprine closes her eyes in heavy contemplation. She looks at Brok. “Brok, son of Kurr, Alpha of Crescent Moon Clan. Can you be convinced by some other recompense to spare the lives of these pups? Will you accept an alternative?” Brok was outraged.

“They murdered my father and keep his pelt and skull. Only in exchange for those would I consider. But that is unreasonable. The only alternative I can claim is Sturr’s life. I will spare the rest, for him.” Sturr panicked.

“Father! Help! You can kill him! Save me! Father please!” Sturr wept pitifully. The great wolf snapped.

“Silence, Sturr.” before he turned to the elder. “He is my last son. My only other child. Surely Alpha Brok can show some act of mercy. By law he has the right to his life. But I will argue for his life. We will offer to leave this place and accept an exile from gathering among the clans if he will spare Sturr’s life!” The great wolf looked coldly at Brok, not even a flicker of hate, or love. Just cold steely emptiness. Brok, considered as the elder alpha, gestured to Brok.

He looked at the pathetic whelp. The spineless child who murdered his mate. His words screaming in his mind “I killed your bitch” he hollered with glee. Brok’s rage surged. His broken heart and pride would not rob him of the chance to cow the rival clan. He wanted another wound to put in their pride. He gestured to his clanmates to release the others. And they do, sending the four other cowardly pups whimpering back to their families, where their fathers smack them in fury.

“I will not relent Sturr’s life.” Brok said as he stormed over and dragged Sturr before the great wolf. Lifting the smaller male by his wild red hair before his father. “This is my mercy.” he spits seethingly. Brok shifted in form, he became a silver streaked hybrid with hateful brown eyes. He snarled.

“FATHER PLEASE HELP ME! HELP ME!” Sturr screamed, crying in fear and horror. Brok locked eyes with the great wolf as he tore his jaws into Sturrs throat. Shredding it with a dramatic snap, sending a spray of blood as he bit the entire trachea out of the young male. Sturr gasped, his eyes wide, gurgling as he bled profusely. The massive wolf didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even flinch. He turned and calmly walked away back to his clan. The silence was deafening. Brok held him there to stare at his clan as the last bit of life fled from Sturr’s body. Then he tore the head off with a sickening crunch. He looked up to Alpha Cysprine.

“Brok, Alpha of Crescent Moon Clan. By right and law is your grievance settled? Are you satisfied?” she asked. Brok hissed through bloody fangs, his face drenched in blood.

“We are. The grievance is now settled.” He said spitefully and stalked back to his clan. The clan left that day. Brok carried the heads of Sturr and Stag on his hip and refused to let anyone else carry Kara’s body. A few days later they reached the clan territory. They all gathered to welcome their Alpha home. The reunion was bitter. Brok’s expression was darkened. Charlotte met them at the edge of the camp.

“Brok! Our alpha returns! Tell us the news, Alpha!” she greeted him happily. Then she saw the body. “What happened?!” she gasped.

“The Ghostclaws are honorless cockwarts! I beat Stag in combat, by law!” he said louder so the clan can hear. I took his head as my right! His whelp of a brother and others stole into our camp in the night! They attacked us in our sleep! They killed my mate, Kara! They robbed us of Char, Grot’s mate! They broke honor and could not control their idiot pups!” Brok said hatefully. “So I took my vengeance for our dead! I took Sturr’s life before the clans, as by right!” Brok hollered. “I accept responsibility for Kara and Char’s deaths! I foolishly thought the Ghosts could honor a single pact for a single moment! They showed me I was wrong…”

Charlotte interjected, “He defeated his enemies, avenged our alpha Kurr! Reclaimed and defended our clan’s honor! Brok has ascended to Alpha! Hail Alpha Brok! Haroo!” Charlotte yelled. The entire clan in unison howled in joy to Brok’s ascension. But Brok only sat with Kara’s body in his arms. His victories tainted, his mate stolen from him. They laid their dead to rest in the clan burial grounds. Brok took his place on the Crescent Throne. He achieved his destiny, and it filled him with hate.

#october challenge #writing challenge

0 notes