#Alexander as strategist

[jeannereames]

Based on the tactics vs strategy component of your most recent ask (on how ATG should or should not be depicted on TV)—do you think, if he hadn’t died so soon and lived a little longer, he might’ve been able to improve his strategic mindset? I think that’s how Philip became good at it, right? After experiencing some failures. I think perhaps that’s one of the tragedies of Philip not being around longer—he might’ve been able to show his son how to handle mistakes and move on from them.

Oh, I think Alexander was definitely improving as a strategist. He was never bad, he just wasn’t Philip… who was exceptional. But Philip had to learn very early, just to survive. I doubt the man had much of a childhood.

A quick review of Philip’s early life, for those reading who may not already know. We think he may have been sent to the Illyrian court of Bardylis at some point in his childhood; for how long is unclear. (If I ever get around to a Philip novel, that’s where I’m starting it, too.) Then he must have come home, only to be sent down to Thebes as a hostage when he was in his early teens. He returned to Macedonia once Perdikkas was no longer a minor himself and could kill his erstwhile regent. Some years later, Perdikkas made him archon of a canton (maybe Amphaxitis?), probably when he was c.18-20 years of age, where he had his own little militia to train. Perdikkas was dead on a battlefield, fighting Illyria, before Philip was 24.

So, he came to the throne a bit later than Alexander but suffered a MUCH more uncertain childhood. It makes Alexander’s look like the “poor little rich boy,” tbh. This is why I respect Philip so much. No, I don’t think he was “greater than Alexander” (as per Richard Gabriel), but I do think he earned his place as, per Diodoros, “the greatest of the kings of Europe.”

I will also add that I suspect Philip benefited a lot from his mother Eurydike’s advice, as did his brother Perdikkas. There was a woman to be in awe of! I also think it’s why Philip was so damn determined to see that Alexander got a “proper” education. Yes, it owed the influence of Thebes’ upper-crust circles…but also residue from his own “school of hard knocks” upbringing.

It also explains why he was a master chess player. He’d had to be, just to stay alive.

Alexander learned quickly, but he didn’t have to exercise it quite as young; Daddy was there to take care of things. Mostly masterfully (outside his private life). Then Philip got himself killed, and Alexander was on his own at just 20. No surprise if he made mistakes, but being king already, they were on full display for posterity in a way Philip’s weren’t. (In fact, we know almost nothing of Philip’s childhood, as evinced by the brevity of my summary above.)

To my mind, one of the tragedies for both men was Philip’s sudden death. While it’s possible they might have clashed even more as Alexander aged, their friction may also have eased. Alexander was right on the cusp of that age when teenaged boys transform back into somewhat sane human beings. Ha. My own seemed to change virtually overnight between about 22 and 23. Philip had been dead two years by then, and Alexander invaded Persia at 22.

Many years ago, I wrote an alternate history short story for Gene Borza’s birthday, wherein Philip died at Chaironeia, and Alexander was taken captive, then had to escape and re-do everything Daddy had done. It was fun to imagine what might have happened, in part to underscore how singular/important Chaironeia was for not only Philip, but Alexander too.

Yet an equally interesting “What if?” would be that Philip wasn’t assassinated in 336 and did invade Persia that autumn. But let’s say he didn’t survive “Granikos” or “Issos” (or whatever those would have been for him*), while Alexander did. What might that have looked like, giving Alexander another 2-3 years under Philip, only becoming king himself around the same age his father had? (23-24?)

I love alternate history scenarios when well-done. (Maybe why I’m a big fan of Melissa Scott’s A Choice of Destinies.)

So in short, yes, I agree that it was a tragedy that Philip didn’t live at least a few years more. And somebody needs to write that alternate history. Then send me the link. Ha.

——

* I think, if it HAD been Philip at the head of the army, Darius would have taken him much more seriously, probably moving up the timeframe of a serious clash (such as Issos). I suspect Philip, like Alexander, would plan to take the Asia Minor coast the same way, to cut off the navy. Darius might have come after him with a bigger army somewhere in Asia Minor. But I also think Asia Minor would have gone over to Philip more easily, as he was proven material and that area had already rebelled against Artaxerxes only about a decade or so prior.

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XX ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au. — warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy. — word count: 4,801. — tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23, @leathesimp. —the lost queen series masterlist. — ko-fi

Chapter 20

The march was an ordeal for all involved. The scorching summer heat punished soldiers and animals alike, making each step a monumental effort. Armor gleamed in the merciless sun, and the air seemed to ripple with the heat rising from the arid ground. The mood was almost palpable, a shadow that followed the ranks like an unwelcome companion. Yet everyone knew that they would rather face the scorching sun than face the icy winter winds that chilled them to the bone.

The destination was Babylon, a journey that would take months, according to the strategists' calculations. The army, vast in number and presence, advanced slowly due to the chariots, tents, and supplies that accompanied it. This slowness irritated Alexander deeply. He was completely focused on his goal: to rescue his wife, no matter the cost.

He was Alexander, and he would raze cities, enslave people, and send men to the sword until he recovered his wife, his Queen.

His wife and child were waiting for him. Alexander missed (Y/N) terribly. The moments they spent together, few but significant, did not make up for the emptiness in his chest due to his wife's absence. Nothing could fill the void that was eating away at him except having her in his arms once more, and this time he would be sure that no one could take her away from him again.

Impatience was eating away at him. He ardently wished to have wings like Icarus, to take flight and cross the sky to the gates of Babylon. Each day that passed seemed like an insult to his desire for action, an affront to his restless spirit.

It was then that he made a strategic decision. To speed up the advance, he decided to divide the army in two. He would lead the vanguard, accompanied by his main officers and the elite of his soldiers. The rearguard would be under the command of Parmenion, an experienced and trustworthy general. It would still take time to reach the city, but the movement would be faster with fewer men and baggage at the front.

Alexander would naturally lead the first group. His eagerness to advance as quickly as possible was almost tangible. Part of him wanted to mount Bucephalus and gallop non-stop to Babylon, ignoring all the risks of the road. However, reason prevailed over impulse. He knew that abandoning his army would be foolish. The path was treacherous, full of possible ambushes and challenges that would require his command and leadership. And he could not simply leave his own people behind.

As the sun set, dyeing the horizon red and gold, Alexander rode at the head of his troops, his gaze fixed on the east. Babylon was far away, but in his mind, he could already visualize the city gates, the imposing walls and the reunion that fueled his spirit. Determined and tireless, he advanced, guided by passion and the promise of victory.

Soon, he promised himself, (Y/N) would be back in his arms and he would never let her leave his side again.

"Alexander, please. The soldiers and animals need to rest." Hephaestion insisted, his voice thick with concern. He watched his friend closely as the men set up their makeshift camp for the night. The sky was already painted with shades of purple and gold, announcing the end of the day, but Alexander remained restless, almost oblivious to the exhaustion of everyone around him.

If it were up to him alone, Alexander would have continued the march without hesitation, ignoring the approaching darkness and the limits of the human body. But he knew that leadership was not just about giving orders; it was also about understanding the needs of his men. As much as he wanted to force them forward until their feet were raw, he needed to be wise.

"Fine," Alexander replied with a heavy sigh, finally giving in. He removed his sword from his belt and placed it at his side, as if the act symbolized a brief surrender. His eyes, intense and determined, fixed on Hephaestion. "But tell them that tomorrow, at first light, we will march again!"

Hephaestion sighed deeply, a mixture of relief and frustration. He knew Alexander better than anyone, and knew that this was as much of a concession as he could get. "I will," He replied with a slight nod, before walking away to relay his orders.

The camp soon came to life, filled with the sound of the soldiers' tired voices. Some drank wine around the campfires, their hoarse laughter mingling with the crackle of the flames. Others ate in silence or tended to their wounds, enjoying the brief respite of a night without marching.

Inside his tent, Alexander secluded himself. Sitting on a simple rug, he opened his copy of the Iliad. The epic poem was more than just reading material for him; it was a refuge, an anchor in the midst of the storm that raged within his mind. His eyes scanned the words greedily, absorbing the stories of heroes and battles that he so admired.

Alexander could not help but make the inevitable comparison. Once again, he saw himself as Achilles, the hero he so admired and whose legacy he aspired to equal — or even surpass. Hephaestion, ever loyal and ever present, was to him what Patroclus had been to the legendary warrior, a friend, a soul brother, someone he trusted more than himself.

But there was a third figure in this epic narrative that shaped his life. (Y/N), his wife, was his Briseis. Just as Agamemnon had torn Briseis from Achilles, breaking the hero's trust and inciting his fury, (Y/N) had been taken from Alexander. Not by a superior commander, but by Perdiccas — someone he had dared to call a friend.

Perdiccas' betrayal was an open wound in Alexander's heart. A man he had trusted had now allied himself with the Persians, keeping his wife captive. The memory of (Y/N)'s face, her beauty, her grace, her laughter, fueled his determination. He refused to accept that she would remain out of his arms, held captive like a trophy of war.

Thoughts boiled in his mind as he clenched his fists. He knew that, like Achilles, his anger and pain would drive him. But unlike the Greek hero, Alexander would not let anger cloud his mission. He would use his intelligence, his skill as a strategist, and his unbreakable willpower to get her back. He has to.

No matter the price he had to pay. No matter how many men or how many miles separated them. He would cross deserts, face armies, and defy even the gods if necessary. Because (Y/N) was not just his wife; she was his heart, the part of him that made him human amidst the divinity of his dreams.

And just as Achilles had gone after Briseis, Alexander would go to Babylon to seek (Y/N). But unlike his favorite hero, he would not let anyone stop him. Perdiccas would pay for his betrayal, the Persians would fall, and he would bring his wife back. No matter the cost. No matter the time. He would get her back.

And everyone who got in his way would be killed.

"Do you really think capturing Babylon right away is a good idea?" Nearchus's voice cut through the crackling of the fire, carrying the drawl of someone who had had a little too much to drink. He swung his wine cup slightly, the dark liquid reflecting the flames.

The other generals looked up, some with impatience, others with amusement. The firelight illuminated their battle-scarred faces, creating shadows that made them look even more worn from the campaign. Alexander was in his tent, lost in thought or reading, as usual, and none of them dared disturb him. As for Hephaestion, they all knew he was busy with his endless duties, and though he had been invited, he had politely declined.

So that left just them. As always.

"Do you want my honest opinion, or would you prefer a more optimistic one?' Ptolemy replied, his mocking smile shining in the firelight. He held his wine with the same casualness of someone going about their day, though the irony was evident in his tone.

Nearchus wrinkled his nose, clearly dissatisfied with the answer, but he didn't bother to reply. He simply took another sip of his wine, perhaps as a way to distract himself. Cassander, as was typical of him, rolled his eyes dramatically and muttered something unintelligible that seemed to include the words "idiots" and "waste of time."

Cleitus, on the other hand, laughed. The sound was low, almost infectious, and it made the others look at him for a moment. He seemed more relaxed than usual, warmed by the wine and the rare camaraderie they shared in the midst of war.

"You may be a bunch of blockheads," He said, gesturing with his free hand, "but oddly enough, I like being here with you."

There was something genuine in his words, though the alcohol certainly helped. No matter how much they had their differences —and there were many — there was an unbreakable bond between them. They could tease each other, argue, and even fight, but when it came time to fight, they trusted each other as friends, as brothers, perhaps.

"Don't get all emotional now, Cleitus." Cassander's mocking voice echoed through the circle of generals, thick with irony as he arched an eyebrow. His green eyes glinted mischievously in the flickering light of the fire, ready to provoke.

"And don’t get all bitter, Cassander," Cleitus snapped back without missing a beat, his tone sharp but with a hint of humor. He leaned forward slightly, as if preparing the final blow. "Tell me, is your bed really that empty?"

Cassander's face hardened, his mouth already opening to spew a sharp retort, but before he could fire off his retort, Ptolemy held up a hand, interrupting him with a tone of restrained exasperation.

"Now, no more arguing, huh?" He grumbled as he tilted the jar to refill his cup, the red liquid glistening in the light of the flames. "We're having a decent time, and we don't need two bickering children to ruin it."

Cleitus chuckled softly, shaking his head as he finished his wine in one gulp, not caring when a few drops escaped and stained his dark beard. He looked pleased with himself, relaxing back into his makeshift chair.

Cassander, on the other hand, looked indignant. He shot Ptolemy a sharp look, clearly annoyed at being compared to a child, but decided not to prolong the argument. With an expression that was a mix of irritation and disdain, he just snorted, muttering something unintelligible before picking up his own wine cup.

Nearchus, already visibly drunker, resumed the conversation, his voice carrying a note of sincere concern, albeit slurred. "But seriously, I don't think it’s a good idea to attack Babylon so immediately. The Persians have probably already received the news. They must be preparing, and honestly, another siege is not at all pleasant. We will lose more men than necessary."

The words hung in the air, and Ptolemy sighed, placing his wine cup on the floor, his gaze distant and thoughtful. "Yes, you are right. But what can we do? Alexander is determined. And.... She is our Queen."

The mention of (Y/N) brought a brief silence between the men. The light of the fire seemed to shine a little brighter in each of their eyes as they thought of her. Although the time they spent with her was limited, (Y/N) had earned a special place among the Macedonians.

She was not just Alexander's wife; she was a singular presence, able to touch even the most hardened hearts from years of war. Everyone remembered how she had saved Cleitus from certain death in a previous incident, defying orders to ensure he received medical care, how she had saved him with her own hands. Her kind heart and dedication to every soldier, regardless of rank, were rare qualities.

"She's different," Cleitus murmured, breaking the silence. He stared into the wine in his cup, as if the words had come out of themselves. "She didn’t have to, but she cares. About all of us."

The others nodded silently, even Cassander, who usually maintained a cynical air, seemed lost in thought.

Besides all that, (Y/N) was a good influence on Alexander. Where he was fire, she was the water that balanced him. She brought humanity to the king, reminding him that leadership was not just about conquest, but also about care and responsibility.

That was why they marched. It wasn't just for Alexander, or his glory, or the empire he sought to build. It was also for her, their Queen, someone who didn't deserve to be held captive. They would bring her back, not just out of duty, but because she had become part of the soul of the army.

Cleitus rose from his seat with a determined movement, his eyes shining in the firelight. With the firm stance of a warrior and the conviction of a man who knew what he was fighting for — or in this case, who he was fighting for — he raised his cup of wine.

"For our Queen!" His voice rang out loudly, full of respect and devotion.

For a moment, silence fell, but then, one by one, the other generals followed suit. Cups were raised to the starry sky, almost as an offering to the gods, the glow of the fire reflecting off the red liquids that danced within them.

"For our Queen!" They repeated in unison, their voices mingling, full of fervor and loyalty.

The wine was drank, but the true toast had been made long before that moment. It was in their hearts, in their determination. They would march for Alexander, for the empire, for glory — but above all, they would march for her.

And they would not rest until their Queen was free. And until everyone involved in her kidnapping was dead.

A few days before the march,

Roxanna moved restlessly around her room, unable to contain the anxiety that was eating away at her chest. She felt her servant's fingers sliding through her long black hair, gently combing it, but not even the repetitive gesture could calm her. Her thoughts were far away, swirling around a single name.

"Leave me alone." Her voice was firm, but without emotion. She did not deign to look at her servant, who obeyed immediately, leaving her with her whirlwind of thoughts.

Her father's visit a few hours earlier had only served to heighten her uneasiness.

"Seduce him, Roxanna. Make him marry you. For our people."

His words repeated in her mind like a crushing burden. It wasn’t just a suggestion; it was an order. A mission.

She sighed, her eyes lost in the reflection of the bronze mirror before her. Yes, Alexander was a handsome man. An unbeatable warrior, a powerful king. He could offer protection to her people, he could give her a position no other woman in Bactria had ever held. But she wasn't sure if it was the right choice. Not while another woman stood in his way.

Alexander's wife.

Her disappearance should have been a boon to Roxanna, but instead it seemed to only strengthen the bond between them. She knew it was common for a king to have multiple wives, mistresses even. But this.... This was different. Alexander had taken no mistresses — at least not that she knew of — and he was desperate to find her.

In any other circumstance, Roxanna might have found it romantic. A king's devotion, his unbreakable loyalty to one woman. But not now. Not when she wanted to be the only one.

She clasped her hands tightly, her heart pounding.

If she had Alexander's son, he would have to be the heir. The only legitimate heir.

But for that to happen, (Y/N) needed to disappear for good. She might be Darius' captive, but she was still alive. And that was a problem.

Roxanna sighed heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands wrapped around her head as she tried to organize her thoughts. Her fate depended on her next decision, but the path ahead seemed foggy.

Before she could delve any deeper into her worries, her doubts, a loud sound echoed through the room — a firm knock on the door. She jumped, her heart racing in alert. She wasn't expecting anyone.

She frowned, straightening her posture and composing herself before answering.

"Come in." Her voice was firm, though it carried a hint of hesitation.

The door opened slowly, revealing an unfamiliar figure. Roxanna held her breath.

The man who entered was unusually handsome, exuding an aura of mystery and sophistication. His dark, deep-set, attentive eyes seemed to carry the weight of worldly knowledge. He smiled kindly, but something in his posture revealed that this was no ordinary visitor.

His dark hair fell softly over his forehead, and his rich, ornate robes were clearly Persian.

Roxanna felt her body stiffen. Who was he?

"Who... Who are you?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept her gaze fixed on him.

The man inclined his head slightly in a respectful gesture, a smile still playing on his lips.

"Aslan, at your service, my lady."

The name sounded strange to her ears. It wasn't Greek. Nor Persian. At least, not from a place she knew.

And that made her even more suspicious.

Roxanna felt a shiver run down her spine as Aslan took a step forward, his smile remaining enigmatic.

"Why are you here?" She tried to keep her voice steady, though a hint of nervousness betrayed her composure. "It's not proper for a woman to be alone with a man, I—"

Before she could finish, he interrupted her.

"Don't worry, little star. I'll be quick."

The nickname took her by surprise, and she opened her mouth to respond, but Aslan was already moving closer. His movement was fluid, confident, as if he was in control of everything around him. Roxanna took a step back instinctively, her muscles tensing in alert.

He laughed softly, a low, melodious sound, without a trace of threat.

"You don't need to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you." His voice was soft, reassuring. His dark eyes, which had seemed enigmatic and unfathomable before, softened.

Roxanna blinked, feeling her own heart slow down. The irrational fear that had gripped her seconds before began to dissipate, replaced by a strange calm.

She didn’t know why, but somehow... She believed him.

"I heard that you might become the second wife of our dear King Alexander." He began, his gaze roaming the room as if he were analyzing every detail.

Roxanna didn't bother to hide her displeasure at the title “second wife.” Her lips tightened, but she remained silent, just staring at the stranger.

Aslan smiled, as if he had already expected this reaction.

"And something tells me you're not happy with this arrangement." He continued, looking directly at her again. "Of course, nothing has been declared yet, and I doubt Alexander will marry you while sweet (Y/N) is still under the Persians. But the possibility exists. After all, it would be a beneficial alliance, especially since Darius' daughter, Stateira, is not yet of marriageable age. You would be the most obvious choice."

Roxanna felt a chill run down her spine as Aslan spoke, his words laced with a seductive yet dangerously calculated tone. She arched a dark brow, assessing him with a mix of curiosity and caution. Where was this conversation going?

Then Aslan tilted his head slightly, his gaze gleaming with something between amusement and intent.

"You see, little star," He murmured, his voice a soft, almost hypnotic purr. "I am a man of many talents. And I can make your problem disappear."

His smile widened, and Roxanna felt her stomach turn.

She knew exactly what problem he was talking about.

The silence that followed felt heavy, as if fate itself awaited Roxanna's decision.

A part of her, the rational one, screamed that this was a terrible idea. Nothing came for free, and Aslan was clearly no mere benefactor. But another part — the ambitious, desirous, dreamy part — was filled with excitement.

The idea of ​​being the only queen, the mother of the future heir, the woman at the great Alexander's side...

The thought warmed her chest like fire.

Aslan noticed her hesitation and kept his smile patient, as if he already knew what the answer would be.

"All you have to do is ask me, and I will rid you of your problem." He said it casually, as if he were offering something trivial.

A shiver ran down Roxanna's spine. She swallowed hard. She wasn't naive. She knew that nothing was done without a price.

"And what do you want in return?" Her voice was firm, but her heart was hammering in her chest.

Aslan smiled broadly, his dark gaze glittering.

"Don't worry about that now," He purred. "But I promise it won't be anything too far from your reach."

Roxanna felt her body tense. Every fiber of her being told her this was dangerous. But the promise of what could be... The chance to have everything she wanted...

The excitement, the desire, the dream took over her young mind.

And before she could think twice, the words escaped her lips.

"Do it."

She had just sealed a pact — and she didn't even know the price.

Present day,

Your eyes widened, your heart pounding in your chest as Aslan's words echoed in yoor mind.

Back to your own time?

Was that really what he was saying? Was it possible?

You had never really considered this possibility. You had always assumed that, because you were pregnant, you would be trapped in this place, that the babies inside you were an anchor preventing any return. But now... He spoke as if it were simple, as if everything could be reversed with a snap of his fingers. And maybe it could.

"Are you serious?" Your voice came out shaky, little more than a whisper, filled with disbelief.

Aslan smiled, that feline smile that never fully revealed its intentions, and nodded slowly.

"Yes."

Your heart raced even faster. The chance — if it was even a chance — to go home. To your family. To your time. It was a dream that seemed increasingly distant as you adapted to this strange Era, this reality you never chose but that had somehow become yours.

But why now?

Why was he offering you this choice now, after everything you had been through? After so long? After he himself had sent you here without even asking if that was what you wanted?

Your eyes narrowed, and your voice was firm, thick with suspicion.

"Why?"

Aslan shrugged, as if the answer didn't matter, his smile widening even more.

"Because I think it's time for you to come home, (Y/N)." His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was something about it that sent a cold shiver down your spine. "You've spent too much time here. Your time is up."

Instead of feeling relief, joy, or hope, something else burned inside you.

Fury.

It took over your body before you could stop it, hot and uncontrollable, and before you could even think about the consequences, your hand came up and slapped Aslan across the face with a loud crack.

The impact stung your palm, but you didn't care. Your chest rose and fell heavily, your breathing ragged.

Aslan stood still for a moment, his head turned slightly to the side. Then, slowly, he turned back to face you.

And smiled.

A dangerous smile.

Aslan raised one of his hands and lightly touched his own cheek, where the red mark from your slap was beginning to appear. His dark eyes shone in an almost amused way, as if he found your reaction amusing.

"Well, that was an unexpected welcome." He murmured, his carefree tone contrasting with the intensity of his gaze.

You still felt your hand tingling, but you didn't regret what you had done. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, anger still boiling inside you.

"You have the nerve to show up here and simply tell me that my ‘time is up’ after bringing me here against my will?" Your voice shook, but not from fear — from indignation. "After making me live through all of this? Making me get attached to people, getting married? Making me get pregnant?! You have no right to do that!"

Aslan tilted his head slightly to the side, watching you as if studying your reaction. Then, he sighed.

"You've always been so full of spirit, haven't you?" He shook his head, a hint of amusement in his voice. "That's why I like you."

Your stomach churned in disgust.

"I don't give a fuck what you like." You spat the words out, your fists clenched at your sides. "I want to know what's really going on."

Aslan finally abandoned his relaxed posture and took a step closer. You forced yourself not to back away.

"Listen carefully, (Y/N), because I don’t like repeating things." His voice was lower now, more serious, and suddenly, the entire air in the room seemed heavy. "You came to this time for a purpose. Something that needed to be done. But now that purpose has been fulfilled."

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest.

"F-Fulfilled?" You repeated, the word sounding strange in your mouth.

Aslan smiled slowly.

"Yes. What had to happen, happened. You are no longer needed here."

The words hit you like a punch in the stomach.

You were no longer needed? As if your life was a simple object that he could discard as soon as he was done using it? As if everything you had lived here had meant nothing?

You felt an immense urge to punch him.

You gritted your teeth, blood roaring in your ears.

"What if I don’t want to go?" Your voice was low, but full of defiance.

Aslan smiled again, but this time, there was something dark in his expression.

"Oh, my sweet (Y/N)..." He whispered, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Who said you had a choice?"

The ground seemed to disappear beneath your feet, as if the world around you was disintegrating. With each breath, the air became heavier, harder to hold. You tried to stay upright, but the feeling of disorientation grew, your body starting to shake. Your eyes met Aslan's again, and this time, there was something different in his gaze — no longer just the calculated distance or the amusement of a manipulator. There was a touch of longing, as if he were looking at you with a sadness you didn't understand, something deep that was beyond your reach.

The chaos inside your mind intensified, thoughts tumbling over each other, conflicting feelings taking over your heart. How could he look at you like that, with a mixture of affection and... Farewell? Why all this? He was doing this to you, dragging you to a place where you no longer knew who you were, and now, he seemed to be saying goodbye for now. But why?

Before you could ask any other questions, a feeling of weakness took over your body, as if all of your energy had been drained. Your eyes began to close, your vision becoming blurry and hazy, while the weight of your own body seemed to become unbearable. Aslan’s words echoed in your mind like a distant whisper, even though he was there, standing in front of you, with the enigmatic expression as always.

"Don’t worry, (Y/N). We'll see each other again." He said, his words so soft that they seemed like a low, comforting chant. But what was comforting about all this? How could he say something like that with such certainty? "But don't worry, you won't be alone when you wake up."

Those words... You wanted to believe them, you wanted to feel that there was some truth to his promise, but the feeling of abandonment, of helplessness, was overwhelming you. Your vision grew increasingly blurred, as if the darkness itself was approaching, taking over your entire being. The last vestige of clarity in your mind disappeared, swallowed by a deep, cold abyss, and soon silence took over everything.

The last thing you felt was a strange sense of calm, as if, somehow, the darkness was a kind of refuge. And then, everything went black.

— lady l: I know it took a while to come out but my life has been a mess lately :( It hasn't been an easy start to the year but I'm here. We're entering a new phase of TLQ! Also, don't hate Roxanna! She's young (technically 16 if we are going really historical) and she doesn't know on what she's getting into. She'll come around, guys. 😉

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, it was longer than usual, but important. Forgive me for any mistakes and I'll see you soon! I love receiving feedback and comments! ❤️❤️

If you want to support or ask for something, my Ko-Fi/commissions are always open!

Bye for now!! ❤️

[goddammitjosef]

Give me the name of every movie/documentary/things like that that has Alexander on it. Please😄

Warning: most are in Russian, good luck if you don't speak Russian

ok I'm not a big movie guy, so bare with me.

NORTHERN SPHINX

(Северный сфинкс) (2003)

Based on the novel of the same name by P. Gnedich.

About dramatic events in the fate of the Russian Emperor Alexander I. It was a time of mystical movements, Masonic lodges, the Holy Alliance, the Patriotic War of 1812, the Decembrists, Pushkin and the heyday of Russian poetry.

EMPIRE: ALEXANDER I

(Империя: Александр I) (2024)

The two-part film "Alexander I" is the fifth part of the documentary-fiction cycle "Empire", telling about the key historical events that shaped the path of the Russian Empire.

Having come to power as a result of a palace coup, Alexander I dreamed of a political reorganization of Russian society, and perhaps, if not for the opposition of the conservative nobility, Alexander's reforms could have significantly influenced the state structure. However, as we know, history does not require the subjunctive mood, and Alexander Pavlovich was destined for a completely different, much more important role.

He forever inscribed himself in history as the conqueror of Napoleon Bonaparte, a far-sighted strategist and diplomat, a loyal and loving son of his Fatherland.

ALEXANDER I

(Александр I) (2024)

Raised by his grandmother, Empress Catherine II, who saw in her eldest grandson the direct heir to the throne, and the European teacher Lagarp, Alexander adheres to liberal views and admires the first years of Napoleon's rule: he dreams that Russia will one day have a republic.

After Catherine's death, during the reign of Paul I, Alexander continued to hope for reform. However, he soon becomes disillusioned with Pavel both as a father and as a statesman. As a result of the conspiracy, Emperor Paul I is killed, and Alexander, haunted by guilt over his father's death, is forced to ascend the throne in order to resist the new intrigues of the aristocrats and his domineering mother. At the same time, Alexander understands that Russia is under threat: war with the invincible Napoleon is inevitable, it's only a matter of time.

DANCING ON GRAVES

(Tanssi yli hautojen) (1950)

In the early 1800s, Finnish governor's daughter first detests but soon falls in love with Russian Czar Alexander I who has just taken Finland over from Sweden's rule.

THE INVISIBLE TRAVELER

(Незримый путешественник) (1998)

The film tells about the everyday life, the most ordinary days of Emperor Alexander I and his wife Elizabeth , which they spent in Taganrog. As is known from history, in 1825 Taganrog became the place of the sovereign's last refuge. However, the film traces an unofficial historical version, according to which Alexander staged his death and funeral, leaving the throne in favor of a solitary life.

These are just the ones where Alexander is the main focus though, for more, you can check this Wikipedia page.

[pebble-pictures]

WIP

That's a Homeric AU, alright! This is what living in my brain looks like. Would you believe I haven't actually listened to Epic yet? Idk why I'm putting I off. Maybe I'm terrified of disappointment.

Anyway! AU notes beneath the cut!

"Rage — Fable, sing the rage of Pthia’s daughter Ruby,

murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,

hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,

great fighters’ souls, but made their shards carrion,

feasts for the dogs and birds,

and the will of the heavens was moving toward its end.

Begin, Fable, when the two first broke and clashed,

Diamond lord of men and brilliant Ruby. . . ."

-Rose plays a similar role to Odysseus! The morally grey trickster monarch who just wants to be with her spouse and son in the end. Seen as a coward and a bad friend, but the intentions were good. A brilliant strategist and completely hubristic idiot simultaneously. I give her the Pink Diamond palette whenever she isn't disguised. The Rose palette goes to Nobody!

-Pearl as the Athena-parallel goddess of wisdom, arts, and warfare. The pearls will be the patron gods of their respective Diamond monarchs, but Pearl is the closest to her monarch. She follows her everywhere until something big separates them due to a choice Rose makes, thus aiding Rose's son instead in growing up and his mission to learn more about a heroic mother he never knew.

-Lapis of Sparta and Troy, the demigod prisoner whose face sailed a thousand ships. Kidnapped from her home and loved ones, then blamed for the fallout.

-The rage of Ruby, heir to the throne of Pthia, greatest of the Greeks, and her gentle yet coldly terrifying equestrian companion Sapphire, exiled princess of Omas. Technically the same stone irl, but there's a great status disparity. Their ranks in this AU are swapped, though, to better fit the backstory of our Myrmidon boys!

-Padparadscha, disgraced Trojan princess, whose predictions are always ignored and ridiculed. Until it's too late.

-Jasper of Troy. Captor of Lapis Lazuli. Favorite of the detached Pink Pearl, goddess of beauty and lust. A pawn who thinks she's in control. Always inferior to her eldest sister.

-Hessonite of Troy. Favorite of the vain Yellow Pearl. Goddess of prophecy, archery, medicine, music, plague, the sun, and being an annoying little overachiever. Hess commands Troy's armies. Eldest of the royal children. She was canonically the governor of the Earth colony, so she technically counts for my efforts to make all the Trojans pink court gems under Queen White Diamond. Yelp is the only exception, cause I wasn't making Aubergine or Lonely into Apollo. It fit her too well.

-Steven goes on a journey to learn about and live up to a heroic parent he's never met. Prince of Ithaca. Spends his early life constantly having to fight adults who want to kill him, and having to defend his home and single parent from said adults.

-Greg. "I've never had that many exes show up at once since—" has hundreds fighting for a hand that's technically already taken. Known for his artistic pursuits, like Penelope for her weaving. A lot more clever than he first appears. A damn good dad.

- Amethyst is undecided. Maybe an Ajax? A goofier Diomedes? Absolutely up for suggestions.

-Garnet as the tall, blunt, crazy strong child of Ruby who joins the war in her early years. Neoptolemus/Pyrrhus, who I'm now realizing isn't as universal as the others, so I'm saying it explicitly.

-Aquamarine as the (justifiably) murderous sister of Helen/Lapis, Clytemnestra! Eyeball as the lover who helps her kill her spouse! Freckles and Curls as their brothers, the twins Castor and Pollux! I'm cooking.

And the Lapis twins ESPECIALLY work for the Gemini! One was callous and spiteful, one was kind and followed his brother. However, because a lot of people in those times/place thought you could have multiple fathers per set of twins (or per baby if you ask some of Alexander's contemporaries about him), one twin was a fully immortal demigod. Not full-blooded Spartan royalty. Freckles isn't a pure Lapis, she has pyrite flecks!

And the Gemini later both became water gods! Idk who will fill Orestes' slot. Probably Blue Zircon, since Orestes was the impetus of the founding of the Athenian legal system.

-Yellow Diamond, Queen of Men. Favorite of Blue Pearl, goddess of the seas, storms, earthquakes, and horses. Angry and selfish, hated but feared by her gems. Later murdered by her family. Only using Lapis' kidnapping as an excuse for war and plunder.

-Blue Diamond, queen of Sparta. Also favored by Bloop. Desperate to take Lapis back from Troy. Constantly grieving her rapidly dropping family, but still terrifying.

-White Diamond, queen of Troy. Starts detached, cold, and neglectful. Loses everything, becoming a humbled and grieving old mother and grandmother.

-Gimme ideas for Peridot! Was gonna make her Meneleus, but it'd be weird making her Blue's sister.

-Bismuth = Hephaestus

- Rose Buds = The Fates

- Aubergine = Artemis? Hera? Idk, man, I just REALLY wanna include the Hera/Artemis fistfight.

-Lonely Pearl = Hermes

-Pyrope = Hera, probably, actually. It fits her Vibe. Or Zeus. Or Demantoid as Zeus?

-Navy = Ares. Full stop.

[ask-half-blood-hill]

Meet the Demigods: Ren Takayama

Testing, testing! Sephora Chambers here, LIVE from Cabin Two in Camp Half-Blood, ready to interview all the lively and rowdy faces of Half-Blood Hill! Welcome to Meet the Demigods! Today, we have a treat! I’d like to introduce my best friend, Ren Takayama! There’s a lot to cover, so let’s get on with the broadcast!

Q1: How would you describe how you look?

“Different from my half-siblings here. Most of the have light hair, or light eyes. I’ve got a sort of golden-brown eye color, and my hair is black. Serenity did offer to put some blonde streaks in it though… I’m about five foot seven, and I’ve always been a bit on the lean side.”

Q2: Who is your godly parent?

“I was claimed by Apollo! I think it was a little obvious, now that I noticed all those nuances in my life. Yellow this, music that, yadda yadda yadda. He’s the god of a lot of things, actually. Medicine, the sun, music, archery, poetry, stuff like that. You name it, there’s a 30% chance he’s the god of it. He’s probably also the god of overachievers… No offense, dad. You know you’d live up to that title.”

Q3: What’s your talent?

“Like all of my siblings, I have a talent with medicine and archery. My actual power that makes me stand out… Geez, I guess that’ll have to wait. I’m not sure if I want to expose myself just yet, Seph. I guess it’s also cool that I can tell the time of day, no matter where I am. Isn’t that neat? What do you mean that’s lame?! You’re full of-”

Q4: What are your hobbies?

“I really like music, but I guess that’s just a given, since I’m a kid of Apollo. I also have a passion for painting and acting, which my mom got me into. I also really have a good hand with gardening, too, but for some reason all my flowers end up turning yellow…”

Q5: Who’s your favorite cabin mate?

“Oh geez, this isn’t a fair question. Cyrus is a little cutie, he even offered to let me snuggle one of his frog plushies the other night. Serenity is cool, but a little too cool. Kieran is strange, and a little too in the clouds sometimes, and Alexander is a force of pure chaos. Dawn is sweet, but you can’t get away with anything when she’s around- she can detect liars. Sebastian is cool, but he’s always cooped up in the workshop… Caroline? She’s a doll, but she’s very shy. I guess that leaves Myra. I admire how hard she works, and since she swore off violence, it’s mostly just her running the clinic almost all day, every day.”

Q6: If you could live in any other cabin, which cabin would you choose?

“Man, have you ever been in the Hypnos cabin? It’s the most comfortable place ever. It would be paradise just to go to a sleepover there, let alone live there! The Hebe cabin is also pretty nice, so that’d likely be my choice. It’s got this sort of… nostalgic feeling to it. Maybe it’s just the aura of youthfulness.”

Q7: How would you describe yourself, personally?

“I guess I’m a bit of a scatterbrain. I mean, most demigods think at a million miles a minute, but I genuinely feel like I will explode in the sunlight. I love my family, I love my friends, but I’ve been noted to be reckless at times. I zone into things, and it’s like a trance to me. Um… I guess I’m average in terms of intelligence, but sometimes I can think of quick solutions to issues. Maybe I’m more like a problem solver, than a long-term thinker, or strategist…”

Q8: Do you have a crush on anyone here in camp?

“What? Seph, you can’t just ask that! What do you mean ‘Yes I can?’ Fine! Fine, yes, I do, but like heck would I tell you!”

Well, thank you all for tuning in to the first ever ‘Meet the Demigods!’ Join me next time, when we take on the spooky, haunted face of the Hades Cabin, Jasper Graves! Until next time, stay safe and praise the gods!

[thegreenwallrabbit-blog]

Explaining One of VTMB Paintings (part 16)

Louis XIV en Empereur Romain [Louis XIV depicted as Alexander the Great] (second half of 17th century)  by Unknown artist.

So this piece is difficult as the artist and any info on this one piece is very sparse online.

The painting depicts Louis XIV [Louis the 14th also known as Louis the Great] (September 5 1638 – September 1 1715) who was the king of France from 1643 until his death in 1715 which makes him still currently (as of 2023) the longest (verifiable) reign of reign of 72 years and 110 days which is the most of ANY sovereign whose reign we can verify.

The description of his reign as monarch given on the Versailles official website is:

"As sovereign by divine right, the King was God’s representative on earth. It is in this respect that his power was “absolute”, which in Latin means literally ‘free of all restraints’: the king was answerable to no one but God. During his coronation, Louis XIV swore to defend the Catholic faith. To honour this pledge and preserve the religious unity of his kingdom, he cracked down on the Jansenists of Port-Royal and ordered the persecution of Protestants. The previous policy of religious tolerance was abandoned with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685. Protestants were forced to convert, and over two hundred thousand fled the country. From his base in Versailles, Louis XIV ruled over a centralised, absolutist state which revolved entirely around him. The King lived in the main wing of the palace, on the first floor, in a suite of three apartments reserved for his use. He applied a strict etiquette at court, a set of rules and protocols by which his noble courtiers were obliged to abide. With the help of Colbert, he oversaw the administrative and financial reorganisation of his realm, and also set up manufactures and worked to boost trade. With Louvois he reformed the army and enjoyed a string of military victories. "[1]

It is most likely a replica based of a lost portirt of Louis XIV as a Roman Emperor painted by the well know Frencch court painter Pierre Mignard. This is due to the many compositional similarities to a copy of this work painted after Pierre Mignard death shown below.

Louis XIV as a Roman Emperor (Copy of lost painting by Pierre Mignard)

Whats note worthy is that in both paintings Louis XIV is not being depicted as himself leading his army in contemporary(for his time) battles but instead being depicted as Alexander the Great.

"Alexander the Great, also known as Alexander III or Alexander of Macedonia, (born 356 BCE, Pella, Macedonia [northwest of Thessaloníki, Greece]—died June 13, 323 BCE, Babylon [near Al-Ḥillah, Iraq]), king of Macedonia (336–323 BCE), who overthrew the Persian empire, carried Macedonian arms to India, and laid the foundations for the Hellenistic world of territorial kingdoms. Alexander the Great was one of the greatest military strategists and leaders in world history. He was also ruthless, dictatorial, and ambitious to the point of regarding himself as divine. His conquests of the Mediterranean states, the Persian empire, and parts of India spread Hellenistic culture across these regions"- Summery from Encyclopedia Britannica. [2]

So by depicting Louis XIV as Alexander the Great the artists are associating Louis XIV's reign and his accomplishments with being on the same scale and impact as Alexander the Great. In terms of the pairings place in VTMB this is especially important because the only place this painting appears is in Sebastian LaCroix's office. Specifically it hangs over the entrance way which makes it one of the two paintings LaCroix faces from his desk. The other painting being Pierre Séguier, Chancelier de France (translated Pierre Séguier, Chancellor of France) oil on canvas  2nd quarter of the 17th century (1660 - 1661) by Charles Le Brun (See part 5). And as I pointed out in my explainting of Pierre Séguier, Chancelier de France, LaCroix's is someone who claimed to be “an officer in Napoleons army” yet has a lot of French Royalists paintings. It is also of note as the only other large paintings of this scale that he has in his office are three different painting of Cain slaying his brother Able by different artist yet it is the paintings of  King Louis XIV (whose reign of 72 years and 110 days is the longest of any sovereign in history whose date is verifiable.) and his chancellor of France, Pierre Séguier that he looks directly at from his desk in his Versailles style office. Indicating that these mere HUMAN men*[as far as I know nether were embraced in VTM canon but don’t quote me] are more significant role models to LaCroix then Cane father of all vampires. It also tells us that just how Louis XIV is being depicted as Alexander the Great was used by the artist order to elevate him and his reign as King of France to the same historical significance and prestige as Alexander the Great, LaCroix aspires to elevate his rule as the Prince of LA in Kindred society/history to the same level as both of these human rules have in mortal history if not beyond that. And again despite having three paintings of Cain, all of them at the same height and size yet are to the side rather then across from LaCroix's desk, almost as if they are peripheral. Almost as if Cain's reign as Father of all Vampires and Ruler of the First City of Enoch is below the level of importance/significants of Louis XIV, Alexander the Great and even Pierre Séguier (who wasn't even a reigning Sovereign, just Chancellor of France). The accomplishments and legacy's of all three of these men who were only ever human (again as far as I can tell none of them were ever embraced) are seemingly above that of Cain in LaCroix's mind based on how he's chosen to arrange the paintings in his office, and he may be attempting to hide this fact and would explain why he chose to have having 3 different painting all depicting the Cain slaying his brother Able hanging at the same level as the two painting depicting the legacies of three mortal men.

[1]“Louis XIV .” Palace of Versailles, 17 Feb. 2023, en.chateauversailles.fr/discover/history/great-characters/louis-xiv#the-royal-family.

[2] Walbank, Frank. “Alexander the Great.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, inc., 5 Oct. 2023, www.britannica.com/biography/Alexander-the-Great.

[qqueenofhades]

I kinda doubt there will actually be a civil war or that putin is in any kind of real danger but do you think that maybe prigozhin will be killed? it would at least be sth i guess

I have seen some speculation in various places around the lines that "Putin ordered Prigozhin to do this and Prigozhin is just playing the role of the agent provocateur/setting the stage for another war crime in Ukraine and there's no actual crisis at all." I do not think that's true. They already blew the Kakhova Dam with much less ceremony, and with much less tangible risk to the regime. Likewise, the thing about Russian "provocations" or "false flags" is that they're all lies and don't actually involve any real action, just rhetoric and claims in their information/social media sphere. This also plays into the repeatedly discredited idea that Putin is a "master strategist" and is playing some incomprehensible genius 12-dimensional chess that it's impossible for us to understand, rather than being an aging psychopathic dictator who decided to "reconquer" Ukraine for a) the greed of his rapacious oligarchic inner circle and b) the "messianic militarism"-inspired crusade favored by Alexander Dugin and the other ultra-Orthodox, ultra-nationalist, neo-fascist thinkers who influence Putin the most. It's not actually that complicated.

Likewise, the amount of Russian military activity/attempts to fortify Moscow against an actual siege suggests that whatever Prigozhin is doing, it's not on Putin's orders and is out of Putin's direct control. Putin has given the requisite fiery speech about how Prigozhin is a traitor and he should be destroyed, there are Wagner Group vehicles heading up the M4 motorway to Moscow, anti-terrorism preparations underway in Moscow itself, etc. If you remember the fit they threw when there was one tiny drone above the Kremlin, you can see that they're taking the possibility of an actual attack seriously. If Putin was a master strategist (which he's not), there's no way in hell he would decide on launching an actual, real-world, armed coup against himself as the best way to shore up his power. The Wagner group has been fighting for months, Prigozhin has been blasting the Ministry of Defense for months, and Putin, like any other degenerate Russian dictator increasingly past his sell-by date, fears a coup more than anything else in the world. That's why he keeps hiding in bunkers and using doubles and whatever the fuck else layers of disinformation and misinformation that the regime specializes in. He knows what happened in 1917 and then in 1991 and the collapse of the Russian Empire/Soviet Union as a result. Putin's only aim has been to keep power, no matter what. There's literally no way in hell he would actually run the risk of letting a coup succeed.

Basically: I still don't know what's going on, nobody else does either, and as I said in my last answer, it's a good idea to question everything that comes out of Russia. However, this does absolutely not at all appear to be in Putin's control in any way, and is something he and the establishment are trying desperately to tamp down, because it represents a genuine threat to his power. Also as noted, we're rooting for all of them to bite each other's dicks off and explode. If Putin is still in effective control of the military or the country or anything, he clearly has to give the order to execute/liquidate Prigozhin. If he gives it but can't carry it out, he's no longer in command in reality, regardless of what it says on paper. If he doesn't give it, he's fatally weak and knows the inept regular Russian army of conscripts and criminals can't compete against the battle-hardened Wagnerites, and he's totally dependent on them to continue his insane war. If that's the case, everyone else will also see it too, and things could go very bad for poor old Vladimir Vladimirovich, very fast.

As I said before: Stay tuned.

[skyler10fic]

Lightning Strikes Twice Ch. 12

Summary: The battleplan commences as Pierce tells Natasha of Yon Rogg's impending arrival.

Read on Ao3

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

“Ms. Romanov!!!” Alexander Pierce shouted from his office.

“Yes, sir?” The redhead walked in, dressed in her typical office blazer, blouse, and pencil skirt. With her tablet in hand and hair in loose waves, no one would suspect she was any more lethal than the average intelligence agency secretary.

“Mr. Rogg is arriving in one hour. Ensure he gets his usual treatment. None of this rigamarole with the line at registration. You will escort him directly to my office.”

“Very good, sir.” Natasha waited. “Anything else, sir?”

Pierce considered her carefully. It held his leering—that, she was used to—but also respect.

“You have a keen sense of judgment, Ms. Romanov. What do you think of this Mr. Rogg? Do you think we can trust him?”

Natasha was genuinely taken aback. “In what way, sir?”

Pierce turned his office chair to the skyline view of LA. “Mr. Rogg may have a special opportunity for us. A mission only I can complete. And I’d like your assistance, if you don’t mind a little field work. We’ll have to get you a new uniform, of course.”

“A uniform, sir?”

Pierce chuckled. “Shopping, Ms. Romanov. Something that you can travel in. Put it on your company card.” He winked. He often referred to the agency as his “company”—a habit that secretly grated on everyone’s nerves.

“Thank you, sir. You know how we girls love our shopping.” A more perceptive man would have caught her playing directly into his bias, but Pierce’s ego was too inflated this close to victory.

Pierce turned to her and stood. “I have one more task for you, Ms. Romanov. There’s a new enhanced recruit downstairs. Carol Danvers. We will need her on this mission as well.”

Natasha feigned concern. “A recruit, sir? Has she even completed her field testing?”

Before Pierce could answer, his computer dinged with a notification. “Ah. Mr. Rogg is heading over early. Fetch Ms. Danvers and send her up before he arrives, won’t you? We’ll meet for an initial briefing in one hour.”

Natasha turned to leave, stomach knotting with anxiety about the rushed timeline but outwardly as cool as a cucumber.

“Oh and Ms. Romanov?” he paused as Natasha turned back to face him. “Just tell her I have picked her for this mission on her demonstrated merits and accomplishments under Agent May’s guidance. No reason to bring Mr. Rogg into this; it’ll just confuse her. I’ll explain all she needs to know in the mission briefing.”

Natasha nodded in obedience. “Yes, sir.

“One hour, back here, field work ready.”

“Yes, sir.” Nastasha set off in the direction of the elevators down to the training center, but she made a pit stop at Phil’s floor first. She knocked at his office door.

“Come in!” he called. “Ah, Agent Romanov, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Phil wore his reading glasses and a plaid shirt, with a navy blazer draped across the back of his chair. Typing away at his computer like that, he almost looked like an average history professor rather than a chief strategist at an intelligence agency so secret that even other intelligence agencies considered it an enigma.

“Director Fury would like to see you in his office. Something about Project Pegasus. I think its planning deadline is coming up soon.”

Pegasus was their code word for their effort to protect Carol, namely because she could fly in ways others could only dream of. If Natasha or the others heard of Yon-Rogg and Pierce putting their kidnapping plan into motion, or any danger to Carol, they could work the code word into the conversation and meet in their secure conference room.

“Thanks, I’ll head up. Oh, and have you seen my daughter around today?”

Natasha frowned. “Sorry, I haven’t seen her. If I do, I’ll send her your way.”

In other words, Skye didn’t know that Pierce was on the move to take Carol. With luck, Skye would be at the training center with Melinda, Carol, and the enhanced recruits, but between her status as an enhanced agent and as a cybersecurity prodigy, Skye could feasibly be working anywhere in the building.

Phil typed on his computer. “Thanks. She is definitely around here somewhere according to her phone location.”

Natasha smirked and leaned against his doorframe. “Be honest, did you ever put a tracker on her before she worked here with a Shield phone? Or get tempted to?”

Phil relaxed for a moment and chuckled with fatherly affection. “Oh yeah, I wanted to. From the day she arrived. She was always running off after her own curiosity and wonder, faster than we could keep up. Given how she arrived, though, Melinda thought it was too much of a risk, in case someone came looking and hacked the tracker.”

“Wise woman.” Natasha stood up straight. “I better get going, Agent Pierce has a visitor arriving soon. In about an hour, I’m supposed to find out my first field assignment.”

“Ah. Good luck.” Phil understood exactly what she meant. In reality, of course, Natasha had more field experience than nearly anyone, but coded as office chit-chat for the sake of anyone who might be listening or simply overhearing, she was giving him the urgency of the timeline for their plan.

“Thanks. See you around.”

As soon as she was gone, she knew, he’d head to the secret conference room. She just had to get to Melinda and Carol before Yon-Rogg arrived. If Pierce planned to take her to space with him as his assistant, she’d have to show unwavering loyalty to go along with her undercover ruse so she could keep Carol safe and return her to Earth. The point of Project Pegasus, however, was that it didn’t get that far, metaphorically and astronomically.

—---------

Natasha changed clothes into more flexible material, and she alerted Melinda and Carol that it was go time. With Melinda’s clearance level, they were able to bypass all other floors on the elevator ride up from the training center to the secret conference room. Skye was waiting for them with Phil and Maria Rambeau when they arrived.

“This isn’t going to work.” Carol fiddled with the communications equipment Fitz had brought in. “I don’t know the codewords they are using to verify their identities, and they are already waiting for us for the mission briefing.”

Fury and Maria Hill popped up on the conference room screen. Fury announced, “I have a plan B if you’re taking suggestions.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Maria Rambeau began as Maria Hill screen-shared an image of a shiny new spaceship. “Welcome to Saber.”

[yeehaw-in-magic-space]

Session 6b Recap: Part 4/5 (AKA, The Ballad of Barley)

(this section of the recap is comprised exclusively of the drunken monologue that Bandit King Alexander Barley went on to explain to the party where he had come from)

“You probably won’t be surprised to hear this, but I came from a family of barley farmers. For generations we planted barley and gave it to our Baron to be distributed out to soldiers across the Sovereign Kingdom—at least, I imagined so. We didn’t exactly keep tabs on it after it was loaded onto a ship. My family was loyal and well liked, so my grandfather was made sheriff. He was responsible for administration and disbursement of goods to our Baron at the end of every month, a responsibility he passed down to my father when I was young.

The Long War had already started by the time I was old enough to look up at the stars and wonder what was going on out there. It had been good for our rulers, but not so good for the people in their territories. Things were tense, which meant my family was under a great deal of pressure from all sides hoping that they’d strike a deal in favor of either the farmers or the nobility trying to sell off crops as fast as possible.

My parents kept me out of business, but I remember when certain kids I knew weren’t allowed to visit my house for weeks when their parents were fighting with mine. I didn’t pay it too much mind, though. It would all work itself out and before anyone knew it my friends and I would be playing knights in the woods again.

Eventually, I ended up in the military academy. My parents wanted bigger and better for me than a town that was moments away from starvation or uprising. So they cut a deal, and I was sent into the stars to become a soldier and win glory for my Baron, my Count, My Duke, and of course, my Prince. 

They called me Barley there. Anyone who entered the officer academy without a last name was given one. It was to keep things even, I think. To make it clear that we all had an equal shot, whether or not it was true. I scrapped with young men who were clearly destined for command. They would be colonels, generals, rangers, and I hated them for it. Some of them were richer than me, others were simply better. I was lucky to be named captain at my graduation. Apparently I ‘showed potential’ and my ‘ambition for leadership had grown’, though it probably didn’t hurt that our instructor liked me best. I learned from my parents that it was more important to be liked by your betters than your neighbors. Your betters could get your son into the officer’s academy, your neighbors could only promise not to draw blood next time you argue over scraps.

Yes, I’d realized what my parents had done by then… and I loved them for it. I applied myself in their honor. I became an academic, a strategist, and a halfway decent fighter. I wasn’t uniquely brilliant at anything, but I was all around competent and I had a good eye for opportunity. I wasn’t going to blow the one shot I had. So I played teacher’s pet, I made a big fuss about the nobility, and I learned to stop scrapping with those destined for greatness and to start fighting those who competed for the same seat as me. I assume that’s how I really made captain, but I always felt it was proof of my growth as a strategist.

Anyway, long story short, I fought my way up during the Long War. I killed and burned until I was introduced to my Prince and offered the position of ranger. It was the proudest day of my life, and it would have been the proudest of my parents’ if I’d ever bothered to tell them. 

I didn’t know then how useless it would be: that no one could promise land or income until they knew if they’d have any holdings themselves. I was saddled with more and more danger and the opportunity to plunge myself further into the jaws of death, and in exchange I might one day get to control a city slightly larger than the one my parents had gained control of by organizing fucking barley shipments. Still, I fought. I fought until I had taken this world and all of its moons. I fought until my men had dragged the prince of this world before my Prince, and then executed the poor boy at his behest. I had taken it all, while my Prince had been struggling to keep what his other rangers had managed to resecure. It wasn’t going anywhere, but I was.

We got as many men as we could, stole as many ships as we could, and took back what we had already taken once. The months after that were hard, but the people of this world pulled through. We’d all heard about Bandit Kings, and although we didn’t have a crime lord around, it seemed easy to make one out of thin air… so we did, and Alexander Barley rose from a knight three centuries too late to a king born from the thinnest imaginable window. I made nice with those who came after my Prince was struck down, and here we are.”

[moltengoldveins]

- Foreign Eyes 1: Empire -

(the first in a series of poems I wrote ages ago, freshman year of college. I might share the rest one day, but I liked this one.)

.

I open someone else’s eyes

In a narrow cot, just shy of the tent wall

Piled high with periwinkle blankets 

And red sheets.

The floor is matted reed, laid in rows,

Richly carpeted with cerulean and cream,

Stained with old blood.

There are boots in the corner, beneath the rack

Where the weapons are kept perfectly clean. 

They are caked with it, 

Leather stained dark like the wood of the central table. 

On it is a map, yellowed paper mountains,

Valleys, rivers, 

Populated everywhere by little wooden men. 

They match in careful navy lines against their scarlet foes,

Stand firm in adversity, 

Charge parchment hills and hold sketched fortifications,

And die silently at the delivery of the hasty missives 

Stacked in the corner. 

His stride as I walk is long and purposeful, 

His footsteps firm, silent, balanced, 

but not quite perfect; 

A hitch that tells of some old wound long-healed. 

An arrow to the knee. 

I look down. There is a narrow scar across his palm, 

And though his fingers are calloused, his nails are clean.

His nails are clean. 

‘This body is some petty warlord’s,�� I think, ‘scraping for glory. 

‘An advisor, perhaps, or a strategist, told “Triumph, at all cost,”

‘Or some great Alexander.’ 

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 2.10

Beer Birthdays

Jacob Hammel (1827)

Adam Sander (1827)

John Kaufman (1830)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Elizabeth Banks; actor (1974)

Jimmy Durante; actor, singer, pianist (1893)

Alan Hale; actor (1892)

Frances Moore Lappe; writer, activist (1944)

Mike Rutherford; rock guitarist (1950)

Famous Birthdays

Larry Adler; harmonica player (1914)

Peter Allen; pop singer (1944)

Judith Anderson; actor (1898)

Michael Apted; film director (1941)

Berolt Brecht; German writer (1898)

Lon Chaney; actor (1906)

Frank Moore Colby; essayist, encyclopedia editor (1865)

Ale Comfort; pop psychologist, writer (1920)

Laura Dern; actor (1967)

Donovan; rock singer (1946)

Lenny Dykstra; New Yorkk Mets CF (1963)

John F. Enders; bacteriologist (1897)

Roberta Flack; singer, songwriter (1939)

Jerry Goldsmith; composer (1929)

Joyce Grenfell; actor, comedian (1910)

Aaron Hill; writer (1685)

E.L. Konigsburg; writer (1930)

Charles Lamb; English writer (1775)

Harold Macmillan; British PM (1894)

Chloë Grace Moretz; actress (1997)

Greg Norman; golfer (1955)

Boris Pasternak; Russian writer (1890)

Alexander Payne; film director (1961)

Leontyne Price; singer (1927)

Emma Roberts; actor (1991)

Max Schubert; winemaker (1905)

Mark Spitz; swimmer (1950)

George Stephanopoulos; political strategist (1961)

Sharon Stone; actor (1958)

Bill Tilden; tennis player (1893)

Robert Wagner; actor (1930)

William Henry "Chick" Webb; jazz drummer, bandleader (1905)

William Allen White; writer (1868)

Don Wilson; rock guitarist (1937)

[aphroditelovesu]

Can I ask for more Yandere love letter from Alexander to his twins? Maybe when the two are older ❤️

author's note: why am I wanting this man right now? 😭

My beloved and precious children,

My soul overflows with an intense love and pride for you, as deep as the lands I conquered and as hot as the fire that ignites the hearts of heroes. You are the precious jewels of my heart, the only witnesses to the fragility I hide under the armor of a conqueror.

My beloved (Y/N), your mother, who gave birth to you, I thank her every day for the gifts she gave me. You are the reflections of our love, the embodiment of my ambition and desire to conquer the world to protect and create an empire worthy of you. No army will ever be more loyal or fiercer in protecting you than mine.

My daughter, with eyes that reflect your mother's sweetness and your father's determination, you are the promise of a better world that I long to create. No man will ever be worthy of your love, and I will watch out, making sure your heart belongs only to the one who deserves it. You are my little girl, my princess and my precious daughter.

My son, with the courage of a lion and the intelligence of a strategist, you are the continuation of my legacy. The sword you will one day wield will be the extension of my will, and I will train you to be invincible as the greatest warrior who ever lived. You will be my successor but more than that, you are my son and I know that one day you will surpass me and I am excited for that day.

Always reminding you, my dear ones, that the world is a dangerous place, and you are the most precious thing I have. I will do anything, absolutely anything, to protect them. My love for you is so deep and unreasonable that there is no limit to what I am capable of doing in the name of that love.

The world will be yours to conquer, and I will be by your side, watching every step you take. My love for you is unshakable and eternal, and nothing and no one will dare to come between us. I can't believe how you've grown, how you, my daughter, become more beautiful every day, and how you, my son, become stronger every day. You are my pride and my greatest achievement.

With all my love,

Alexander.

[mariacallous]

Let’s talk about the ‘elections’ that just went down in Russia

A stress test: Over the past weekend, Russians cast ballots in 21 gubernatorial races and elections for 13 regional parliaments. As Meduza reported at the outset of the voting, the contests were less a democratic undertaking than a trial run for the Kremlin’s latest spin on managed politics. The “elections” tested a handful of acting governors who have struggled in office or previous posts, but the Putin administration’s main goal, according to various sources who spoke to Meduza, was to stress-test Russia’s neutered party system to ensure that the public accepts the scripted results of voting two years from now in federal parliamentary elections.

More or less on target: Most of the weekend’s voting results show that the presidential administration’s political orchestration is running smoothly. In seven of the 21 regions that held gubernatorial elections, regime-backed candidates won more than 80 percent of the vote (though no one dared tally above the 87-percent mark Vladimir Putin set in his most recent reelection). In another eight regions, the Kremlin’s candidates won with 78–79 percent. 

Some stand-out races: Even in the Altai Republic, former United Russia General Council secretary Andrey Turchak came away with 74 percent of the vote — outperforming his predecessors, who won 58.8 percent in 2019 and 50.6 percent in 2014. St. Petersburg Governor Alexander Beglov walked away with the lowest victory threshold with 59 percent of the vote, despite election officials deliberately packing the ballot with opponents who endorsed unambiguously unpopular platforms that included banning foreign music and closing the city to gasoline-powered cars. Meduza’s Andrey Pertsev notes that a mayoral race in Bratsk, in the Irkutsk region, came closest to competitive politics because the two leading candidates were both United Russia members (though one ran as an independent). In the end, Alexander Dubrovin defeated incumbent Sergey Serebrennikov with 70 percent of the vote, declaring it a win first and foremost for the party.

Taking down KPRF: In regional parliaments, United Russia won more than half the votes, though the Kremlin’s reported plan to oust the Community Party of the Russian Federation (KPRF) from the number-two opposition spot was successful in only half the voting regions. (Notably, KPRF fell to fourth place in occupied Sevastopol.) The Communists continue to perform better in the national republics, where non-Russian ethnicities are the majority and where the nationalist rhetoric of LDPR and its late founder, Vladimir Zhrinovsky, continues to alienate the local populations. 

Setting the stage and readying the room: Two sources close to the presidential administration told Meduza that the Kremlin has instructed regional officials and the state media to focus where possible on the weekend’s high turnout and record results for United Russia. The regime’s political strategists reportedly want to cultivate the idea that the past weekend’s managed numbers — even the record-breaking victories — are “predictable and natural.” Familiarizing the public with such voting outcomes will reduce the potential for controversy when the authorities orchestrate Russia’s 2026 State Duma elections.

[adrl-pt]

On April 12, 2014, the war in Donbass began with the capture of the city police department of Slavyansk. https://gordonua.com/publications/Zavtra-byla-voyna-God-nazad-terroristy-nachali-zahvat-Slavyanska-75620.html

The reserve colonel of the FSB of the Russian Federation, Igor Girkin (Strelkov), who led the invasion, in an interview with the newspaper Zavtra, said that for the first two weeks no one wanted to fight and both sides wanted to convince each other. “The flywheel of the war, which is still going on, launched our detachment.” - he said. https://zavtra.ru/blogs/kto-tyi-strelok

On March 4, 2014, Putin, when asked if they were Russian soldiers, replied that they were local self-defense forces. Intercepted recordings of conversations prove that the separatists were following orders from Russia. It is indicative how Moscow political strategist Alexander Boroday forced accepting the text of the constitution sent by Vladislav Surkov, which contained errors. Surkov at that time held the position of Assistant to the President of the Russian Federation. On March 15, 2015, Putin already said that under the guise of strengthening the security of facilities in Crimea, special forces of Main Intelligence Directorate and the military were transferred there. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLa2MOKFAVM

Then the Malaysian Airlines Boeing MH17 was shot down. A court in the Netherlands found Girkin, Dubinsky and Kharchenko guilty of the crash due to a hit from a Buk air defense missile brought from Russia. https://ru.euronews.com/2022/11/17/netherlands-court-mh17-verdict-ppp

Russian authorities blamed Ukraine for this. “Dispatcher Carlos,” who allegedly worked at the Kiev airport and wrote that Ukrainian fighters were pursuing this plane, turned out to be a fraudster convicted in Spain. And his “work” was paid for by the Spanish branch of the RT propaganda TV channel. https://www.rferl.org/a/catch-carlos-if-you-can-mh17-russia-ukraine/29065244.html

In July 2014, Channel One of Russian television showed a story about a “crucified boy” in order to accuse the Ukrainian army of abusing civilians. Local residents denied this and called the Ukrainian soldiers “guardian angels.” https://www.stopfake.org/ru/lozh-raspyatie-v-efire-pervogo-kanala/

And one of the first things the Russian authorities did in captured Mariupol was to show propaganda on cars with special screens. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMn8Ooe6wlk

According to the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, before the full-scale invasion began, the number of civilian deaths in Donbass was constantly decreasing. https://www.dw.com/ru/zertvy-vojny-na-vostoke-ukrainy-infografika/a-51469181

Last year, ex-major of the Main Intelligence Directorate of the Russian Federation Igor Salikov on the Gulagu.net channel told how the separatists themselves shelled the territory under their control to maintain a state of war. https://youtu.be/GMpl2TPNqW8?si=xsLMd_DsprAnUA_K&t=5701

In 2013, Donbass enterprises provided about 15% of Ukraine's GDP. Now the self-proclaimed authorities are closing dozens of Donbass mines, with violations of technological standards. This leads to contamination of drinking water sources. https://zona.media/article/2022/07/26/coal Equipment from some factories was transported to Russian territory. https://gordonua.com/news/society/Promyshlennost-Donbassa-Svobodnyy-polet-ili-svobodnoe-padenie-74032.html Before the war, the average salary level in Donetsk was one of the highest in Ukraine. In 2019, salaries were already 4 times lower than pre-war. https://www.radiosvoboda.org/a/29728846.html

Then propaganda promoted the thesis “Donbass was bombed for 8 years” and Putin started a big war, in which in just the first few months more civilians died than in the previous 8 years. https://www.dw.com/ru/oon-v-ukraine-za-dva-goda-vojny-pogibli-bolee-10-tysac-mirnyh-zitelej/a-68346488

The well-being of people has never been Putin's goal. We urge you to be critical of pro-Russian messages regarding Ukraine: Russian propaganda is spread not only in Russian.

[urlovetataxz]

Sarah “Fox” Matthews' Brothers' Skills: A Combination of Strength and Intelligence

Kenji Matthews:

Wushu Master: Kenji has an exceptional mastery of Wushu, with acrobatic movements, powerful kicks, and complex combinations. His agility and precision make him a formidable opponent.

Acrobatics Expert: Kenji is capable of performing incredible acrobatics, using them to dodge attacks, surprise his opponents, and reach inaccessible places.

Powerful Kicks: Kenji's kicks are devastating, capable of breaking bones and knocking down larger opponents.

Takeshi Matthews:

Muay Thai Master: Takeshi is a master of Muay Thai, with powerful kicks, knees, elbows, and clinch strikes. His precise and brutal technique makes him a relentless fighter.

Calm and Calculating: Takeshi remains calm in combat situations, analyzing his opponents and planning his actions with precision.

Cunning Tactics: Takeshi is a natural strategist, capable of devising complex plans and predicting his enemies' movements.

Kai Matthews:

Master of Krav Maga: Kai is a master of Krav Maga, focusing on self-defense, simple and efficient techniques, and the use of everyday objects. His ferocity and agility make him an unpredictable opponent.

Impulsive and Courageous: Kai does not hesitate to face danger, using his impulsiveness to surprise his opponents.

Hand-to-Hand Combat: Kai is an expert in hand-to-hand combat, using quick and precise strikes to incapacitate his enemies.

Jacob Matthews:

Master of Internal Martial Arts: Jacob has a deep knowledge of internal martial arts, such as Tai Chi Chuan and Qi Gong. He is able to control his life energy and use healing and defense techniques.

Mystical Powers: Jacob has mystical abilities, such as telepathy, telekinesis, and spiritual healing.

Patient and Wise: Jacob is patient and wise, using his intuition and knowledge to guide his brothers and resolve conflicts.

Alexander Matthews:

Tech Genius: Alexander is a technological genius, capable of creating state-of-the-art weapons and equipment. His inventions aid his brothers in combat and facilitate their missions.

Creator of Innovative Solutions: Alexander is able to think outside the box and find creative solutions to the challenges his brothers face.

Artificial Intelligence: Alexander has developed an advanced artificial intelligence that assists him in his creations and provides strategic information.

[dystini]

Indycar Driver Lore

Indycar Driver Lore Masterlist

Colton Thomas Herta

Birthdate: March 30, 2000 Hometown: Valencia, California Residence: Brentwood, Tennessee Height/Weight: 5’10”/140lbs

Rookie Year: 2019

Team: Andretti Global

Follow him on: Instagram Twitter

Career Stats

2018: 1 race with Harding Racing - 37th Overall 2019: Harding Steinbrenner Racing - 7thg Overall 2020: Andretti Harding Steinbrenner Autosport - 3rd Overall 2021: Andretti Autosport - 5th Overall 2022: Andretti Autosport w/ Curb-Agajanian - 10th Overall 2023: Andretti Autosport w/ Curb-Agajanian - 10th Overall

IMSA 2019 BMW Team RLL, GTLM class, won Daytona 24 2020 BMW Team RLL, GTLM class 2021 Turner Motorsport, GTD class 2022 DragonSpeed USA, LMP2 class, won Daytona 24 2023 BMW M Team RLL, GTP class

2022 Race of Champions

-He was the first NTT INDYCAR SERIES driver born in the 2000’s and is a seven-time race winner. -Became the youngest race winner in NTT INDYCAR SERIES history when he won at Circuit of The Americas in 2019 at 18 years, 359 days old and became youngest pole winner in NTT INDYCAR SERIES history at 19 years 83 days when he scored his first pole at Road America in 2019. -Son of former NTT INDYCAR SERIES driver Bryan Herta, who won four races in his driving career and two Indianapolis 500s as a team owner. Bryan Herta was race strategist for his son's NTT INDYCAR SERIES team and a co-owner of the Andretti Herta Haupert with Marco and Curb-Agajanian entry. -Won the 2019 Rolex 24 at Daytona with BMW Team RLL in GT Le Mans class. -Competed for Andretti Steinbrenner Racing in INDY NXT by Firestone in 2017-18, winning six races. -Enjoys electronic dance music (EDM), comedies and video games. He is also an active athlete who enjoys cycling, running and golf. -Plays drums in a rock band caled The Zibs, which is an arabic slang term for penis. The band toured the West Coast in 2019 -Doesn't really drink coffee

-left handed

Iconic/memorable moments 2022 INSIDE THE RACE // COLTON HERTA AT HONDA INDY TORONTO Outside the Line: Colton Herta HONDA PACE CAR // COLTON HERTA AND ALEXANDER ROSSI What Racecar Phenom Colton Herta Is Listening To JAVA WITH JAMES // JAMES HINCHCLIFFE WITH COLTON HERTA Colton Herta crashes, flips in final Indy 500 practice | Motorsports on NBC Colton Herta impresses in Formula One test at Portimão Circuit Outside the Line: Colton Herta The Racer Channel videos with Colton Herta Unbelievable Herta Save | Indycar GMR Grand Prix 2022 2022 PACE CAR LAPS // BRYAN AND COLTON HERTA ON THE STREETS OF LONG BEACH King Taco: Questions with Colton Herta

IndyCar rookie phenom Colton Herta's side gig: Rock band drummer Colton Herta INTERVIEW! The IndyCar Podcast Tom Griswold Interviews Colton Herta (2022 Indy 500) Colton Herta and Dan Wheldon Celebrate Bryan Herta's Win at Michigan 2005 MP 651: The Week In IndyCar,, Sept 28, with Colton Herta Colton Herta Loves Star Wars, Drumming, & Talladega Nights

Andretti IndyCar Drivers Test Their Pit Stop Skills | #AllAndretti | Indy 500

Road and Track's music issue, Feb/Mar 2023:

Colton is easygoing and laidback, a true California kid, yet is intensely competitive. Participant (rumored to be the mastermind) in several of the infamous Indy 500 bus lot pranks in recent years, he somehow eludes any true blame falling upon him. He’s well-liked within the paddock, most recently sort of adopted by the Bus Bros and nicknamed “Swolton.” He is also close friends with Alex Rossi, often staying with his former teammate when he needs to be in Indy. He doesn’t make a lot of waves off-track, one of the quietest drivers on social media, but makes up for it on-track with fantastic saves and crashes in equal measure. Just 23 years old in 2023 has 7 wins, 11 podiums and 9 poles in his young life.

F1 discussions.

In late summer 2022, it was announced that F1 team AlphaTauri had an interest in Colton for the 2024 F1 season. Colton, already signed to McLaren F1 as a test driver in addition to his Andretti contract in Indycar, was not eligible for a Super License, a requirement to drive in F1, but this could be addressed with an exception by the FIA. At one point it was announced that this was a done deal but it was not and Red Bull (AlphaTauri’s parent team) soon abandoned all efforts to acquire Colton as a driver.

The Super License system is a convoluted thing that I will not explain here other than to say that Indycar is vastly underrated in points assigned and if not for this discrepancy, Colton would have had more than enough points. But as it is, Colton had 32 points out of a needed 40. Other drivers in similar situations have raced in various lower tier FIA sanctioned series to make up the points and Colton was willing to do this over the winter of 2022-23 but this was also not allowed by the FIA.

But seeing Colton in F1 is still a possibility, should he do well enough in Indycar to earn the points needed and should Michael Andretti eventually succeed in buying an existing F1 team or convincing F1 to allow him to enter a new team. After the end of the 2022 Indycar season, Colton signed a multi-year contract extension with Andretti that includes the ability to switch to an Andretti owned F1 team.

Fanfic Lore

Paired with Pato O'Ward, ship name O'Herta