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squirrelwithatophat · 4 months ago

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How the Chantry (and Orlais) Turned Kirkwall into a Police State

One aspect of the Dragon Age series that I’ve always found odd is the way in which rather crucial political and historical context surrounding major conflicts the player must decide tends to be relegated to codices, outside materials (e.g., books), and optional dialogue with minor characters... meaning that many if not most players don’t seem to end up actually seeing it. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts (Dragon Age Inquisition) in particular has become somewhat notorious for what it left out, but it’s far from unusual.

With regard to Dragon Age II, there’s a popular perception among fans that the troubles in Kirkwall can be attributed almost entirely to rogue behavior on the part of Knight-Commander Meredith and various evil blood mages. This is understandable given the overall narrative framing and Bioware’s aforementioned problem of making key context very easy to miss. But once we take a look at the full picture, it ought to be clear that the Chantry did not simply “fail” in their responsibilities towards the mages or towards the citizens of Kirkwall more broadly — they actively created and maintained the very nightmare they later professed to be dismayed about.

Moreover, despite the running Mages vs. Templars theme, the mages were hardly the only one's who suffered under Meredith's rule. Indeed, Kirkwall endured a brutal 16-year-long dictatorship (9:21-9:37 Dragon) that came into being courtesy of the Chantry and the Orlesian empire and only fell due to the mage rebellion.

Here I’ll describe in detail (with sources and citations) the story of how the Chantry turned Kirkwall into a police state and one that ultimately descended into what the writers themselves termed "genocide."

The Templar Coup of 9:21 Dragon

Our story begins with the conflict between Viscount Perrin Threnhold of Kirkwall and Emperor Florian Valmont of Orlais.

With the beginning of the Dragon Age (the era), the Orlais had experienced a major loss of territory and influence. In 9:00-9:02 Dragon (the exact dates conflict), the Fereldan Rebellion led by Maric Theirin and Loghain Mac Tir overthrew Meghren, the last Orlesian King of Ferelden (personally appointed to the position by Emperor Florian himself), and reclaimed their country’s independence after nearly a century of Orlesian occupation. These events are described in detail in The Stolen Throne. Emperor Florian, however, remained reluctant to recognize Ferelden’s sovereignty -- with peace between the two countries not being fully established until his death and the ascension of his niece Celene to the throne in 9:20 Dragon -- and may have been eager to reassert Orlesian influence in the region. Perrin Threnhold, meanwhile, ascended to the position of viscount of Kirkwall (also formerly occupied by Orlais) in 9:14 Dragon. At some point during this volatile period, Threnhold decided to raise money by charging what the Orlesians regarded as unreasonably high tolls for passage through the Waking Sea, which also controlled Orlais’s sea access to Ferelden and its capitol, Denerim.

For reference, here’s a map with my highlights:

The Orlesian Chantry, founded by Kordillus Drakon I (the first emperor of Orlais), had from the beginning been dominated by Orlesian interests. According to World of Thedas vol. 1 (p. 56): “The Orlesian capital, Val Royeaux, is home to the Chantry’s Grand Cathedral, the center of the Andrastian religion’s power. Over multiple Blights, the Orlesians have used the Chantry to expand their influence beyond the nation’s impressive borders, notably to the north into Tevinter territory and southeast through Ferelden.” The Chantry, not surprisingly, had backed the Orlesian invasion and occupation of Ferelden, most recently under Divine Beatrix III (probably) and Grand Cleric Bronach of Denerim. It should be noted that this is all part of a pattern of highly-aggressive and imperialistic behavior that has persisted for centuries from the early years up to (potentially) the events of Dragon Age Inquisition.

It also cannot be emphasized enough that the Templars are the Chantry’s army and were created by the Chantry in the first place. They do not simply hunt and guard mages; they fight the Chantry’s wars and carry out its policies. Quote: “the Order of Templars was created as the martial arm of the Chantry” (Codex: Templars). According to First Enchanter Halden of Starkhaven (8:80 Blessed), “While mages often resent the templars as symbols of the Chantry's control over magic, the people of Thedas see them as saviors and holy warriors, champions of all that is good, armed with piety enough to protect the world from the ravages of foul magic. In reality, the Chantry's militant arm looks first for skilled warriors with unshakable faith in the Maker, with a flawless moral center as a secondary concern. Templars must carry out their duty with an emotional distance, and the Order of Templars prefers soldiers with religious fervor and absolute loyalty over paragons of virtue who might question orders when it comes time to make difficult choices. It is this sense of ruthless piety that most frightens mages when they draw the templars' attention: When the templars are sent to eliminate a possible blood mage, there is no reasoning with them, and if the templars are prepared, the mage's magic is all but useless. Driven by their faith, the templars are one of the most feared and respected forces in Thedas” (Codex: Templars). Likewise, a Chantry official confirms that the Templars are both “the watchers of the mages and the martial arm of the Chantry” (Codex: Seekers of Truth). In Dragon Age Origins, the (unwillingly) Templar-trained Alistair elaborates, “Essentially they’re trained to fight. The Chantry would tell you that the templars exist simply to defend, but don’t let them fool you. They’re an army... The Chantry keeps a close reign on its templars. We are given lyrium to help develop our magical talents, you see… which means we become addicted. And since the Chantry controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves… well, I’m sure you can put two and two together... The Chantry usually doesn’t let their templars get away, either.”

In response to Threnhold’s intolerable restrictions on the Orlesian navy’s movements in its traditional sphere of influence, Divine Beatrix III, an acknowledged “friend of the emperor” (and predecessor to Divine Justinia V of DAI), ordered the Kirkwall Templars under Knight-Commander Guylian to force open the Waking Sea. Viscount Threnhold retaliated for this obviously-illegal military interference by ordering the Templars expelled from Kirkwall and later executing the knight-commander. Then-Knight-Captain Meredith Stannard led the remaining Templars to storm the Keep and arrest Threnhold before appointing a weak viscount unwilling or unable to resist her control.

From Kirkwall: City of Chains by Brother Ferdinand Genitivi (Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 4):

Taxes were crippling and Perrin Threnhold used the ancient chains extending from “the Twins” standing at Kirkwall's harbor—unused since the New Exalted Marches—to block sea traffic and charge exorbitant fees from Orlesian ships. The Empire threatened invasion following the closure of the Waking Sea passage, and for the first time, the Chantry used the templars to pressure the viscount. Until that point, the templars had done nothing to counter the Threnholds even though, as the largest armed force in Kirkwall, they could have. Knight-Commander Guylian's only written comment was in a letter to Divine Beatrix III: “It is not our place to interfere in political affairs. We are here to safeguard the city against magic, not against itself.” The divine, as a friend to the emperor, clearly had other ideas.

In response, Viscount Perrin hired a mercenary army, forcing a showdown with the templars. They stormed the Gallows and hung Knight-Commander Guylian, igniting a series of battles that ended with Perrin's arrest and the last of his family's rule. The templars were hailed as heroes, and even though they wished to remain out of Kirkwall's affairs, it was now forced upon them. Knight-Commander Meredith appointed Lord Marlowe Dumar as the new viscount in 9:21 Dragon and she has remained influential in the city's rule ever since.

Given that this was written by a Chantry scholar, the self-justificatory rhetoric surrounding the viscount and the Chantry-instigated coup ought not be surprising. It appears, however, that in Kirkwall itself popular perceptions of Viscount Perrin Threnhold are in fact fairly polarized.

Whereas Brother Genitivi calls Perrin’s father Chivalry Threnhold “a vicious thug who took power through a campaign of intimidation” and Perrin Threnhold “even worse,” an unnamed servant writing 7 years after the coup paints a rather different picture (Codex: Viscount Marlowe Dumar):

What happened to Viscount Perrin Threnhold was a travesty. I served in the Keep, and my blood boils when I hear people call him a tyrant. He was a good man who tried his best to free Kirkwall from the control of those who use power for their own purposes. It's always been that way here, hasn't it? Long ago it was the Imperium. Then it was the Qunari, then the Orlesians, now the templars... when have we ever ruled ourselves? He tried to kick those templar bastards out and give us real freedom, and what did it get him?

Whether Threnhold was an evil tyrant or a nationalist hero (or both or something else entirely) is beside the point, however. He was not overthrown for mistreating the citizens of Kirkwall; he was overthrown for opposing Orlais and the Templars (acting as an arm of Orlesian imperialism and in defiance of their official duties). Seneschal Bran, himself no fan of either Threnhold or the Templars (and the only character to ever discuss the coup out loud), points this out in an easy-to-miss optional conversation in Act 3.

Hawke: What happens if they [the Templars] don’t like the [nobility’s] choice [of viscount]?

Seneschal Bran: Do you know how Viscount Dumar’s predecessor, Perrin Threnhold, left office? He was a tyrant, certainly, but his rule was not ended until he actively sought to expel the templars. “The good of all” is inexorably tied to what is good for the templars.

It’s unclear whether Knight-Captain Meredith was acting on her own initiative in toppling Threnhold or whether she received prior encouragement from the Chantry, but either way, what is certain is that the Chantry moved quickly to legitimize her actions and bolster the new order. Moreover, the intent to seize power for the Chantry and its military forces rather than “liberate” Kirkwall from the depredations of a tyrannical viscount can be seen in the way they illegally imposed their own viscount (one kept submissive through threats of violence) rather than allowing the people to choose or at the very least following accepted selection procedures (i.e., allowing the nobility to vote on the next viscount). Indeed, this refusal to let the nobility select the viscount as per tradition is the basis of Orsino's protest at the beginning of Act 3.

In any event, Grand Cleric Elthina, as the highest-ranking representative of the Chantry in Kirkwall (appointed to her position by Divine Beatrix III herself around 20 years before Act 1) and thus exercising authority over its Templars, presided over the show trial at the end of which Threnhold was imprisoned and later murdered in his cell. Then she rewarded Meredith with a promotion.

According to the codex for Knight-Commander Meredith:

She is credited with removing the previous viscount, Perrin Threnhold, from his position after he attempted to have the templars expelled from the city in 9:21 Dragon. The acting knight-commander was arrested and executed, and Meredith led a group of templars into the heart of the Keep to capture Threnhold. He was tried and imprisoned three days later by Grand Cleric Elthina and died from poisoning two years later. Meredith was subsequently elevated to her current position.

While merely implied here, Elthina is explicitly confirmed to have given Meredith the position of knight-commander in the first place in World of Thedas vol. 2 (p. 193):

Following Threnhold’s arrest, Grand Cleric Elthina appointed Meredith as the new knight-commander. At Knight-Commander Meredith’s suggestion, a new viscount was chosen: a man named Marlowe Dumar.

Then in blatant violation of Kirkwall’s own laws and traditions -- again, dictating that the viscount be chosen by the nobility -- the Chantry had allowed newly-installed Knight-Commander Meredith to select the new viscount. If approached in the Templar-occupied Viscount’s Keep and spoken to in Act 3, Seneschal Bran will explain:

Bran: When a line is judged unfit, or ends, we appoint from Kirkwall’s elite. Or we would, if the situation was normal. But it is not.

Hawke: Who nominates a new viscount?

Bran: A consensus of the nobility. Normally. And a willing nominee.

It seems to be the general consensus that Marlowe Dumar was chosen specifically because he was weak and willing to play the role of Templar/Chantry puppet (a subheading in Dumar’s WoT v2 entry even explicitly calls him “The Puppet”). Meredith, after all, is not only responsible for his appointment but has been threatening him into compliance from the very beginning.

Again, Brother Genitivi writes quite bluntly:

Knight-Commander Meredith appointed Lord Marlowe Dumar as the new viscount in 9:21 Dragon and she has remained influential in the city's rule ever since.

And quoting once more from the unnamed servant:

Now the Chantry has chosen Lord Marlowe Dumar as his replacement. After weeks and weeks of arguing, after telling the nobility that they would be choosing their viscount, after everyone saying it was time to use a new title—why not "king"? Why keep using the name imposed by the Orlesians? And after all that, the Chantry chose him. I suppose I can see why—everyone thinks he has the spine of a jellyfish, and it does seem that way.

Truly, he has the templars on one side, the nobility on the other, and everyone expects him to solve all their problems—yet he has no power to actually accomplish it. He keeps the peace as best he can, and I think he does a good job even if no one else does.

Likewise, to quote from Marlowe Dumar’s entry in World of Thedas vol. 2 (p. 184-185):

The new knight-commander, Meredith, appointed Marlowe to the seat, much to his surprise. Just before he was crowned, he met in private with the knight-commander at the Gallows. Marlowe was escorted, surrounded by grim templars, to Meredith’s well-appointed office, and there, she explained her reasons for the choice. Kirkwall was filled with entitled degenerates... “With my help, you will turn this city around,” she said. “We will be allies.” Meredith’s message was clear: Remember who holds power in Kirkwall. Remember what happened to Threnhold when he overreached. To drive her point home, she presented Marlowe with a small carven ivory box at his coronation. The box contained the Threnhold signet ring, misshapen, and crusted with blood. On the inside of the lid were written the words “His fate need not be yours.” Marlowe ruled Kirkwall without incident for almost a decade, in no small part thanks to Meredith’s backing. During his reign, the templars grew even more powerful, and the knight-commander’s influence was evident in almost every one of Marlowe’s decisions.

And from Meredith’s entry in WoT vol. 2 (p. 193):

Meredith presented Dumar with a carved ivory box at his crowning. All present witnessed the viscount going white as a sheet as he opened it... It is not known what the box contained, but the reaction from Dumar made its importance to him obvious. What is certain is that Dumar never openly or strongly defied the templars. Over the course of his reign, Meredith’s grip on Kirkwall grew ever tighter, and Dumar’s failure to act absolutely contributed to the events that led to the mage rebellion.

According to Lord Bellamy, “a longtime political ally of Dumar’s” (p. 193):

“Dumar had a good heart. A good heart and a weak will. On his own he might have made a good leader, given time. But he wasn’t on his own. The knight-commander was always there, looking over his shoulder. She let him know she was watching, that he wore the crown at her sufferance. Meredith appointed him. This was a nobleman of only moderate wealth, with little influence. She knew she could control him and there was little he or anyone else could do about it.”

Ultimately, the coup not only secured Chantry control over Kirkwall but furthered their (and the Orlesian Empire’s) geopolitical interests in the Free Marches as a whole. After all, the “Free Marches is [sic] best known as the breadbasket of Thedas. Its farms along the banks of the great Minanter river are the source of much of the continent’s food” (World of Thedas vol. 1, p. 65), and as with many a real-world “breadbasket,” its natural abundance and misfortune of lying between multiple empires had made it the target of one invasion and occupation after another. After the slave revolt of 25 Ancient toppled the Tevinter Imperium’s hold over the region (see Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 2), the city-state of Kirkwall fell to Qunari invasion in 7:56 Storm, then invasion and occupation by the Orlesian Empire in 7:60 Storm, and finally gained its independence about 45 years later in 8:05 Blessed (see Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 3). Prior to the Chantry-instigated coup, Kirkwall had enjoyed independence under a locally-chosen viscount for around 115 years, with Viscount Perrin Threnhold himself ruling for 7 years.

Other city-states of the Free Marches have likewise fallen under the Chantry’s sphere of influence (if not outright control):

Starkhaven is ruled by the Vael family. According to the codex for The Vaels, “They remain devout, dedicating at least one son or daughter per generation to become a cleric in the chantry.” The sole potential heir to the throne of Starkhaven is of course our DLC companion Sebastian Vael, “The Exiled Prince.” To quote from his first codex: “Sebastian Vael is the only surviving son of the ruling family of Starkhaven, which was murdered in a violent coup d'etat. Sebastian cannot forget the irony that he still lives only because his family was so ashamed of his drinking and womanizing that they committed him to the Kirkwall Chantry against his will… Since then, his belief in the Maker and His plan for Thedas have been unshakable. Embracing his new role, Sebastian took vows of poverty and chastity to become a sworn brother of the Chantry... until word of his family's deaths forced him to take up worldly concerns once again.” Elthina appears to have been playing mind games with Sebastian from the very beginning -- first she agrees to have him confined in her Chantry, then poses as a secret benefactor helping him escape from her clutches, with the revelation of her identity as said pretend benefactor leading him to embrace her authority and the life of a Chantry brother with genuine enthusiasm (see the Sebastian short story or his WoT v2 entry for details). After his family’s murder, Elthina urges him to remain with her rather than reclaim the throne. Yet when he gives up on seeking the throne and actually does attempt to return to the Chantry during “a crisis of faith,” he is “turned away by Grand Cleric Elthina, who believed he had not yet committed fully to either course” (see Codex: Sebastian - The Last Three Years), leaving him confused and even more under her thrall than ever.

Ostwick is dominated by the devout, staunchly pro-Chantry Trevelyan family. According to the codex for Trevelyan, the Free Marcher: “It is an old and distinguished family, in good standing among its peers, and with strong ties to the Chantry. Its youngest sons and daughters—those third- or fourth-born children with little chance of becoming heirs—often join the Chantry to become templars or clerics.”

Tantervale is certainly... special. According to WoT vol. 1 (p. 71): “Chantry rule is all but absolute in Tantervale, earning the city its dour reputation. The city guard is obsessed with enforcement. A street urchin would get a year in the dungeon for something that would get him a pat on the back in Orlais” (p. 71).

But let us return to Kirkwall, shall we?

"The Puppet”: The Reign of Viscount Marlowe Dumar (9:21-9:34 Dragon)

Viscount Marlow Dumar’s status as an impotent tool of the Chantry and its Templars appears to be common knowledge in Kirkwall. Various characters, from city guards to lowlifes like Gamlen, casually refer to Meredith as if she is head of state and defer to her authority.

Immediately upon approaching the gates of the city in the first quest of the game, The Destruction of Lothering (Act 1), the following exchange occurs:

Guardsman Wright: So Knight-Commander Meredith wants us to sort you all out. Most of you are getting right back on your ships, though.

Hawke: That's a templar title. Why would a city guardsman answer to the templars?

Wright: We don't answer to her... but she's the power in Kirkwall. Don't know what would happen if the viscount went against something she wanted... But he's sure never taken that chance.

Likewise, if asked about “the word on the street,” Corff the bartender remarks as early as Act 1, “People say Meredith's the real power in Kirkwall, not the Viscount. Even Dumar answers to her.”

Ordinary citizens appear terrified of Meredith, and with good reason. During the quest Enemies Among Us (Act 1, set in 9:31 Dragon), we get the following exchange with the sister of a Templar recruit:

Macha: I pleaded with him not to join the Order, but he wouldn't listen. You hear dark rumors about the templars and Knight-Commander Meredith. And now my brother is gone.

Hawke: (“Are templars so bad here?”) In Lothering, some templars died protecting villagers. I never heard any dark rumors.

Macha: And those are the stories my Keran adored. But it is not like that here, serah. There is a growing darkness in the order. They prowl the streets in packs. Hunting. And now, they say their duties put them above us, that they have the right to... take people from their homes. It is frightening.

Hawke: (“Tell me about Meredith”) What do people say about Knight-Commander Meredith?

Macha: Oh, she has many admirers. They laud the service she does in keeping the mages in check. But others say she is terribly fierce and utterly without pity. That she sees demons everywhere. It is dangerous even to whisper such things. People harboring escaped mages just disappear. Templars interrogate and threaten passers-by. My friend has a cousin who’s a mage, and she says he was made Tranquil against his will. You hear more with each passing day.

Of course, Knight-Commander Meredith’s reign over the Gallows was notoriously brutal long before she came into contact with Red Lyrium. Writing 3 years after the coup (but 7 years before Act 1), in 9:24 Dragon, Brother Genitivi remarks that "Kirkwall has been a tinderbox since becoming the center of templar power in eastern Thedas." As early as Act 1, mages in the Gallows can be heard crying out, “This place is a prison,” and “Knight-Commander Meredith would kill us all if she could.” When asked if mages are imprisoned, the guardsman replies, “Used to be, back in the Imperial days. They kept slaves here until the rebellion. Now the templars run it and use it to lock up their mages. Guess not much has changed” (The Destruction of Lothering, Act 1). Karl Thekla’s final letter before being turned Tranquil (with such illegal uses of the Rite having been repeatedly reported to Meredith) “said the knight-commander was turning the Circle into a prison. Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, made Tranquil for the slightest crimes” (Tranquility, Act 1). If Hawke questions the truth of these accusations, Anders responds, “Ask any mage in Kirkwall. Over a dozen were made Tranquil just this year. The more people you ask, the worse the rumors become.” (Elthina also appears to be aware at least to some extent of the subsequent ambush, in which a Tranquil Karl was used as bait to ensnare his former lover).

According to the short story Paper & Steel (focusing on Samson): “Under Meredith, freedom was a cruel dream for Kirkwall’s Circle mages. They were often locked in their cells, watched night and day by templars who were told any step out of line was suspicious. All those young magelings, told that magic was a curse, that they were dangerous, and that they had to be shut indoors all their lives looking out through those windows. Some went mad. Others, mad or not, tried jumping.” And from First Enchanter Orsino’s entry in World of Thedas, vol. 2 (p. 195): “Every time a mage died by their own hand, Orsino would hear Maud’s final words to him: 'This is no life.’ The templars didn’t seem to care about the suicides. Most had the courtesy to say nothing at all, but some would snigger when they thought no one was listening. 'One less to worry about.’ ‘The only good mage is a dead mage.’ Orsino’s anger at the templars grew...” (Note that this began long before Orsino became first enchanter in 9:28, three years before the start of the game). It's also worth noting Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford quite explicitly attained his position as second-in-command of the Kirkwall Templars position because of his anti-mage extremism, later including violence against those perceived as mage sympathizers and their families.

To name more specific abuses, the Gallows features whipping posts (with dialogue confirming the reliance on whipping) and multiple other medieval torture devices, including a rack, a pillory, and iron maidens. We also see numerous references to casual beatings, sexual assaults, forced Tranquility and facial branding, long-term confinement in dark cells, and permanent family separation (e.g., Emile du Launcet). Escape attempts are typically punished with summary execution, according to multiple sources (e.g., Ser Thrask, Ser Karras, Grace). According to Ser Thrask, the most sympathetic Templar (besides Carver), kindness to mages would be a "badge of shame" among among his colleagues. For more, I recommend checking out the “DA2 mage rights reference post” by @bubonickitten. Again, note that these are cruelties largely occurring prior to or during Act 1, long before Meredith started going insane due to Red Lyrium.

If Feynriel is forced into the Circle at the end of Wayward Son (Act 1), the ex-Templar Samson says, “I hear they got your boy Feynriel locked up in the Circle. Bad business, that. It ain't all templars that're bad. It's hard luck being born a robe, but most places, they make it work. That bitch Meredith runs the Order in this town like her private army. You don't toe the line, you end up on the next corner here in Darktown. I don't think you got to hate mages to love the Order. But Meredith don't agree.” Samson, it should be remembered, had been expelled from the Templar Order for passing love notes from the mage Maddox to his lover. For the crime of “corrupting the moral integrity of a templar,” Meredith ordered Maddox turned Tranquil. According to Cullen in Before the Dawn (DAI), “Knight-Commander Meredith wielded the brand for far lesser offences, believe me."

Ordinary citizens appear to be well aware of at least some of Meredith’s reign of terror in the Gallows, given that various NPCs (including some who do not personally know any inmates) will refer to it. During Tranquility (Act 1), for example, a mob of Ferelden refugees threatens the party over fears that the latter intend to turn in “The Healer of Darktown” to the Templars. One exclaims, "We know what happens to mages in this town. And it ain’t gonna happen to him." Moreover, the knowledge is sufficiently widespread as to have reached faraway countries. A note dated 9:35 (set between Acts 2-3) from a mage of the Hossberg Circle in the Anderfels expresses utter horror: “I have heard that in the Kirkwall Gallows, mages are locked in their cells with barely room to stretch, let alone exercise. I can promise you that any mage of the Anderfels would be stark raving mad after a week of such treatment... No wonder Kirkwall has such trouble with blood mages” (WoT v2, p. 173).

And through all of this, Meredith has the support of the Chantry and more specifically Grand Cleric Elthina.

Not only did Elthina appoint Meredith to her position in the first place (WoT v2, p. 193), but if asked her opinion on Meredith in Act 1, Elthina snaps, “Gossip is a sin, child. Knight-Commander Meredith has an admirable devotion to her duties. It is not my role to form opinions on her character.” An odd statement to make about a subordinate, since Meredith reports to her directly (as knight-commanders legally do to the nearest grand cleric). The codex for Knight-Commander Meredith confirms at as of the end of Act 2, “she enjoys the grand cleric's full support and has free rein in Kirkwall as the commander of its most powerful military force.” According to Elthina’s codex, many claim that Elthina “allows Knight-Commander Meredith more leeway with each passing year.” According to World of Thedas vol. 2, which tries to put a more positive spin on Elthina’s role, her detractors “say her stubborn refusal to exercise her Chantry-given authority allowed the conflict between the templars and mages to escalate, finally resulting in the disastrous mage rebellion of 9:37 Dragon... Since Elthina was loath to exploit her authority as grand cleric, she refused to order either the mages or templars to stand down when tensions flared. Many believe that she could have forced one side to retreat by showing her support for their position, but Elthina refused to take sides” (p. 196-197). This is at best an abdication of responsibility to dependents for someone intent on remaining in power.

Moreover, Elthina’s dominance over Kirkwall appears to depend in large part on at least appearing to manage Meredith and her troops. According to her codex, “People frequently turn to her to mediate disputes—particularly those involving the powerful Templar Order, over whom she holds authority as the Chantry's ranking representative.” So Meredith as military leader rules both the Circle and the city-state through fear and violence, while Elthina maintains her power by playing Good Cop to Meredith's Bad Cop. Both then maintain a pretense of legality and legitimacy by fronting Viscount Dumar as the public face of the regime.

And this dual-power system works quite well for them -- at least until Meredith starts losing her mind under the influence of the Red Lyrium idol.

[A link will later be provided for Part 2 on Escalation and Direct Rule. If I ever do get to it 😭😭😭]

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weirdmageddon · 5 months ago

Text

the shift in lore literacy in homestuck’s fandom

i was thinking about how the people who got into homestuck after it ended—whose interactions with the comic are in a static, archived state, not an ongoing thing—missed out on information that was more common knowledge in the fandom at that time. i don’t know if this is true since i’m not on tiktok, but i wouldn’t be surprised if it was. the fandom certainly isn’t the same as it was before.

ive found that many people reading homestuck now simply do not understand things in homestuck that were common knowledge back in the day, with calls for “homestuck literacy classes to become mandatory” in response to baffling takes because so many people just now seem to have glazed over the comic without absorbing important plot points, and i think i know why this may be. i ended up writing a post reflecting on my time with the comic, my perspective and how ive seen this change. i still think and write about homestuck because it still fascinates me. earlier i quote retweeted that call in my thread talking about the temporal relativity of dave and rose’s god tier ascension in the green sun, saying “my homestuck literacy is 100% so guess im doing my part as a teacher by pointing out whatever i think is really cool about it”. this post im writing now started out as a reply to this tweet i got in response.

i joined the fandom in 2013. i was 11. i had been aware of it since at least late 2011, early 2012 when my friend ryan in fifth grade told me to read it but i couldn’t get past the first few pages. i remember writing a journal on deviantart around this time (late 2011-early 2012) that was mocking people who typed like gamzee, which ironically was very karkat of me. and i remember someone on flipnote hatena i was following was making flipnotes with the alpha kids.

i dont know what caused me to flip the switch into reading it but 2013. i got into it somewhere between april (i think closer to april—i remember it being quite a span of time between the last update before HOMOSUCK dropped.) this was the most recent page the comic, meaning there was no > [S] ACT 6 ACT 6 at the bottom.

i got into it during a pause in updates, which looking into it, was the year 4 megapause. i wasn’t sure of the month until seeing the news post detailing the reason for the hiatus and the status report of the comic’s development at that time. pretty cool i could narrow it down by referencing the dates of those updates and the news post to correspond with the pause!

according to readmspa, the year 4 megapause was a 59 day hiatus from Apr 14, 2013 ==> (EOA6A5) running to 12 Jun 2013, [S] ACT 6 ACT 6. then for a few months there were the first updates that i was apart of the fandom for.

and what an exciting time during the story get into the webcomic! when the updates resumed in june, part 4 of homestuck had begun. here was a glimpse of the updates in that span of time before the next hiatus began in october.

that hiatus was none other than the gigapause, the longest hiatus in the comic, which started october 2013 and lasted for a YEAR, and i already posted about what happened on the date of return.

but here were the main events happening in the story at the time i first actually got interested in it. i wasn’t aware of the full context of them then like i am now, but i was looking at the most recent updates anyway with interest:

the alpha kids just emerged as god tiers from their slabs in derse and prospit, blown up by the condesce and caliborn / lil cal-possessed b2 jack noir.

the journey to the new session started 24 hours after jack called an early reckoning in descend—for context that was about when dave entered around midnight central time and before jade even entered. it’s pretty easy to forget that side 1 of homestuck basically happens within the span of a single day—and at this point in the story, the 3 year journey (which was also 3 real life years) had just ended. john and jade emerged from the other side of the yellow yard through the fenestrated plane on LOMAX. john’s real body was asleep upon arrival in the new session, while his dreaming projection out in the dream bubbles came across vriska’s ghost ship to learn lord english lore with vriska and aranea, and go on the treasure hunt where they found the ultimate weapon at the X mark out in in the furthest ring. in the dream john stuck his hand in the juju, started warping all over canon which removed his real body from the ship on LOMAX. he zapped around for a while but eventually zapped back to LOMAX, now awake, completely out of the loop of what everyone else is up to, and bored as fuck. what was everyone else getting up to while john was asleep?

jade was now once again within the domain of the green sun. im pretty sure her space god doggy essence comes with the power to sense what was anywhere within the domain of the session since her face looks like she arrived at that spot with intent (and she literally has jack noir’s exact powers from bec’s prototyping. also this panel). she immediately dispatched b2 jack to the edge of the incinisphere, defending the newly god-tiered jane and jake. i think even if they weren’t in any danger, she would have warped to them instantly anyway because she COULD now, and i can imagine she wouldve been sooooo eager to meet everyone. even davesprite comments about her rapid departure.

the pre-scratch refugees arrived during the only time serious shit ever went down in the nobles’ months-long inert void session. the condesce used her freak psychic bronze-cerulean powers to commune with jade’s bestial side and mind controlled her, which is super dangerous as someone with the powers of a first guardian. she then used jade’s powers to corrupt jane with the tiaratop. no funtime meetup allowed!

the trolls’ meteor with rose, dave, and the remaining trolls was pulling up into the new session with no way to slow it down. grimbark jade warped there once it was in the incinisphere and took active control. she warped everyone off the trolls’ meteor and sent them to LOMAX.

as john was losing his mind on LOMAX waiting for everyone, the meteor crew warped in. after 3 years he finally reunited with rose and dave, and at least saw the trolls in person. close curtains, end of A6A5. this was the newest [S] flash page at the time, one of my first impressions of this comic, and still one of my favorite flashes. knowing the context of the flash in the story only enhances the retrospective joy i have at getting into the comic at the time i did because it’s such an anticipated moment in the story for everyone, while for someone with no context of the story it was still enjoyable.

so that’s what was going on plotwise when i joined the fandom.

from this time, through those few months of updates and through the gigapause, i was familarizing myself with the characters in the story and overseeing the state of fanbase, getting myself acquainted with the story and wrapping my head around everything.

at that time i found that a new-ish group called colab HQ who were producing a let’s read homestuck series on youtube. hearing the voices and the pacing of it like that really, really eased me into it (maybe it was my adhd that gave me trouble actually starting it?). i caught up to a certain point using lets read homestuck and from that point was able to continue with the comic on my own, and by the time the gigapause came to a close i was fully caught up. i remember the rebranding of colab hq into voxus about a year and a half after i discovered them.

but.. back to the main point of my post. even these posts from hussie’s tumblr exist in archived states. how many new fans know about hussie’s old tumblr? i don’t know, unless theyre a new fan that must scour the internet for more deep more dives on homestuck and its fandom as a whole. but since hussie deleted his tumblr (it exists archived now on homestuck.net which, alongside from the unofficial homestuck collection, has nearly singlehandedly kept the most important relics of the fandom and lore archived), that page is not an active part of the fandom now, because it’s gone. it’s a pile of bones. it’s not living and breathing. it’s in an archived state. the whole thing is already there. homestuck and its fandom history is something you now binge instead of slowly consume and meld with as it comes out. it’s now this rapid information intake that you might forget about if you read it now instead of engaged alongside it. you’re not surrounded by people actively talking and theorizing about developments anymore. the ability to have those sorts of conversations during the ongoing development of the story reinforced concepts, ideas, and lore over and over as we tried to make sense of it.

being in a fandom when the author is still delivering the story is like nothing else. it allows you grow alongside the characters and engage meaningfully with the media and people in the fandom space around you. it feels like you’re participating IN the media itself, especially if you’re interfacing with the creator. it’s in always having something to theorize or talk about and speculate. and people become very aware of these sorts of forgotten story facts because they were applying the logic of the newest official post from hussie into making their sburb ocs or something and share resources and discussion posts about “what just happened in this update?? recap????” it was this cultural osmosis thing. i think this is why homestuck literacy is now at an all time low, at least from what i can see on twitter.

reading homestuck then vs now is like the difference between serialized shows with spaces between episodes to discuss stuff and time to reflect and learn and become attached to the story, narrative, worldbuilding and its characters, vs the netflix model where it’s all dropped all at once and people forget about it after binging.

at this point in time im getting the sense that “homestuck elders” now are no longer just people who were there since 2009-2010, but now also people who were there while it was still updating, probably stretching into 2014-2015. there are many sources of lore that were common knowledge in the fandom at the time that, since becoming susceptible to the deletion of content and link rot, and with the thanosing of mspaforums, are no longer accessible at the source. and a lot of people moved on after it ended, especially following the epilogues, the kate drama, and the whatpumpkin-sarah z drama, leaving a void of information behind if not for archivists and people such as me who continue to keep old facts relevant in discussions. my friend has called me a fandom scholar before and seeing this post i think i get what they mean.

EDIT: there is a series of video essays ive watched multiple times (because theyre that good) and they are exactly what modern fans need to see more of. they really help contextualize the comic and the themes present in it help you appreciate the basic fabric of homestuck a hell of a lot more. i highly recommend them and encourage any fan of homestuck to watch them, or someone considering getting into homestuck to watch the first one.

i think this is arguably as close to the “mandatory literacy class for homestuck” that person was talking about as you can get, especially the first video.

additionally, there is also the website https://rafe.name/homestuck which is essentially a sparknotes for homestuck and can help you follow developments in the comic itself.

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck fandom #mine

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hungwy · 7 months ago

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A System of Categorization

1. Focus

focus is the state or quality of being the active element of reference.

2. Ords

an ord is a level which contains one or more horts.

2.1. Interordal Relations

ascension/ascending is the relation from an ord to any superord.

descension/descending is the relation from an ord to any subord.

stansion/standing is the relation of the focus ord to itself.

a superord is an ord in question ascending from the focus ord.

a subord is an ord in question descending from the focus ord.

a coord is an ord in question standing in the focus ord.

3. Horts

a hort is a container of one or more jects.

3.1. Interhortal Relations

a superordal hort or superhort is a hort ascending from the focus hort.

a subordal hort or subhort is a hort descending from the focus hort.

a coordal hort or cohort is a hort standing in the focus hort's ord.

4. Directness

directness is the quality of being in an immediately adjacent ord. one can speak of directly ascending and directly descending for ords, or direct superhorts and direct subhorts.

5. Jects

a ject represents the common qualits among one or more atoms.

5.1 Interjectal Relations

a coject is a ject in the same hort as the focus ject.

two or more jects which share at least one atomic qualit are said to be normal jects.

completely dissimilar jects are said to be strange jects.

6. Atoms

an atom contains one to the qualitive limit of qualits.

7. Qualits

a qualit is the primitive unit of consideration. DON'T press me further on what qualits are.

the qualitive limit is how many qualits are present total in the system.

8. Alternative Terms

qualits may be described variously as infratomic, infrajective, infrahortive, and infraordinal.

any structure above qualits may be described as epiqualitive.

atoms may be described as infrajective, infrahortive, and infraordinal.

any structure above atoms may be described as epiatomic.

jects may be described as infrahortive and infraordinal.

any structure above jects may be described as epijective.

horts may be described as infraordinal.

ords may be described as epihortive.

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soulessjourney · 10 months ago

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No Time To Die

Paring: Astarion x fem!TavReader

Word count: 2k

Summary: Astarion and Tav share an intimate moment alone after she is wounded during the battle with Cazador.

Warnings: Little Angst, Mentions of violence, OOC Astarion, Fluff and lots of it

The battle with Cazador proved to be no easy feat, particularly when he was determined to have Astarion play a role in his ascension. Astarion stood steadfastly by your side as you confronted Cazador, with your other companions ready for a fight behind you. The moment Astarion was torn away from you, everything blurred into a reddish haze. Astarion's pleas for freedom echoed, while Shadowheart and Wyll urged you to focus on reaching him. You needed no second prompting as you skillfully cut through your adversaries, your attention fixed on the vampire positioned on the opposite side of the room.

Upon reaching Astarion, you extended your hand toward him, only to be abruptly pulled back and thrown to the floor, Astarion tumbling a few feet away from you. "Tav!" Karlach's voice echoed as your gaze caught a blade coming your way. Rolling to the side, you winced at the clash of metal against the marble floors. Rising to your feet, you evaded Cazador's lunges, his eyes filled with madness.

"I will not let you hinder my ascension. Why defend Astarion so fiercely? He's nothing and will never be anything. You're protecting damaged goods," Cazador taunted, his words dripping with venom as he sliced at you, catching your arm. A yelp escaped you, catching Astarion's attention as he raced toward you, stumbling over his feet. Everything unfolded in slow motion as you found yourself on the ground again, your back colliding with a pillar. Astarion had tackled Cazador, but his words were unintelligible amid the growing ringing in your head.

Sitting up, you leaned against the pillar, a sharp pain shooting through your side, eliciting a strangled groan. Looking down, your mouth opened and closed in a silent scream at the sight of Cazador's dagger firmly planted in your side. A gasp emanated from Shadowheart, who dropped to her knees. "Oh gods, Tav," she whispered, her hands hovering over the dagger. The battle played out in her eyes as she deliberated whether to remove the dagger, the odds seemingly against you with its deep implantation in your side.

Astarion did a double take as your face paled, and you slumped further against the pillar. The prospect of your death weighed heavily on you, considering that Astarion would finally be free. However, another realization struck you - he would be left alone, just as he had been for the past two hundred years. The thought of abandoning him in such a manner became unbearable. Your vision began to blur, your eyes focusing on Astarion as he repeatedly stabbed Cazador, his broken screams echoing through the room. He had forsaken his ascension, and some part of you felt a sense of pride. Astarion was giving up something that he knew, deep down, would lead to his destruction.

Letting out another groan, your eyes began to droop shut as you felt Shadowheart shaking you. "Tav, stay with me, do not close your eyes," panic filled her voice. Opening your eyes slowly, you could see the pure horror on Astarion’s face as he stood and stumbled towards you. Your other companions rushed towards you, screaming your name as you descended into a realm of slumber.

----

The atmosphere around the camp was tense. Wyll and Karlach sat by the fire in complete silence, while Gale, Halsin, and Shadowheart were stationed in your tent, working fervently to save your life. At the edge of the camp, Astarion paced, running his fingers through his silver locks. Lae’zel observed her companions before setting down the dagger she was sharpening.

“Pacing and looking so down won’t save her life. If anything, I would say you’re more likely to end it with the amount of brooding you all are doing,” Lae’zel remarked, scanning the individuals in front of her.

Karlach was the first to speak up. “I’m sorry, mate. It’s just that she’s in there alone, fighting for her life, and there’s nothing we can do but hope the other three can save her.” She shifted her eyes to Astarion, who, a few feet away, was still pacing. “I'm also worried about Astarion; he clearly blames himself for what happened to her.”

Lae’zel nodded, letting out a soft hum of agreement. “You say she’s alone, but she is not. Tav has us here waiting for her, does she not?” Lae’zel asked, watching as Karlach looked back towards her and nodded. “Then don’t say she is alone when she is not. As much as she can get on my nerves, Tav is strong, and she wouldn’t let something as small as a dagger take her out of this world. She’s our stubborn leader for a reason.”

Her words were interrupted by Shadowheart and Gale stepping out of the tent, whispering amongst themselves before taking a seat on the log just to the right of Lae’zel. “How is she?” Wyll asked, attempting to keep his voice low, perhaps to prevent Astarion from finding another reason to pace a hole into the ground, if he hadn’t already.

Gale sighed and looked to Shadowheart, who appeared just as defeated. “We did all we can. Now, it’s up to her to finish the fight. Halsin is in there now in case something happens or if she wakes.” Shadowheart gazed toward the tent, her eyes softening. “She’ll wake up. She has to.”

Gale stood up and made his way towards Astarion, stopping just short of him. “It’s not your fault, Astarion. She knew what was going to happen; she took that dagger for you so you could live,” he said, watching as the vampire ceased pacing. “She knew the risks, and she was willing to take them all for you.”

Astarion turned to face Gale slowly, his gaze broken. “What if I lose her? That would just be one more person that Cazador took from me. Even from the dead, he wants me to suffer like I always have,” he spat, balling his hands into fists. “She has to live, Gale. Not just for me but for all of us. We are so close to winning this war; we can’t lose her now.” Astarion felt like he was losing his mind. He had given up ascension for you, his one true love, and now you were knocking on death’s door.

“Have faith in her, Astarion. When have you known her to simply give up? Tav would fight the Netherbrain blind if she had to. She has taken on an entire goblin camp just to save that owlbear, and she saved an entire camp from an attack, all because that’s who she is. She wears her heart on her sleeve, but a fighter like that is as strong as they come. We have been traveling nonstop for days and fighting along the way; she’s burnt out, and the injury was no help. All she needs is rest, Astarion,” Gale said, turning to walk away. Stopping, he looked over his shoulder. “Out of both of us, she chose you to love, and as hurt and betrayed as I may feel, doesn’t that mean something? She’s not going easily, so go stay with her, hold her hand until she wakes,” he said before walking off to join the others.

---

After a lengthy conversation with Halsin, Astarion found himself kneeling next to you. He had successfully convinced Halsin to leave the tent, reassuring him that he would fetch him once you woke or if something went wrong. Holding your hand tightly, Astarion looked down at you, observing the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. You looked so peaceful, but he despised how quiet you were now. Much as he would never admit it to you, your bickering with Karlach and Shadowheart kept things interesting for him. The way you would joke around with Gale or Wyll, and even crack some horribly made jokes in an attempt to make Lae’zel smile, was something he adored about you. You were more than just a group-appointed leader; you were someone who brought joy into his miserable life. You were his best friend, his lifeline even.

Reaching down, Astarion brushed a strand of hair from your face with a sigh. Gale was right; you were burnt out. These past few weeks felt like endless fighting or traveling. You were always the first to jump to your group's aid in battle, and even when injured, you made sure to check on each and every one of them. He should have noticed just how off you seemed after your fight with Ketheric Thorm. You appeared drained, but he chalked it off as mere fatigue after battling a literal god. Although that was true, looking back, you had changed slightly afterward. You weren’t as quick to block attacks in fights, and you seemed slower when walking. Something about that fight took everything out of you, but Astarion, being Astarion, kept pushing everyone, including you, to reach the city. He was so desperate to reach the city that he became blind to how tired you were. Then the fight with Cazador happened. You had barely had time to react before his dagger found its way into your side, and it was all his fault. If he hadn’t pushed you and allowed everyone to rest, you wouldn’t be in this position right now, covered in sweat and fighting for your life.

Reaching down and gently squeezing your hand, he felt his frown deepen. “You know, Darling, this isn’t fair. You finally gave me something to care about, just for you to end up like this. I may not have a true beating heart, but sometimes you make me feel as if it is truly beating. I don’t know how you did it, but it’s truly terrifying, Darling,” he said quietly. It was true; this new feeling he had towards you terrified him. For two hundred years, he had never had someone he truly cared about, and he had never had someone show him as much love as you had.

Astarion hated confessing his feelings to you, terrified that he would lose you forever after admitting he was using you, especially when you were so gentle and honest with him. But you were never angry. Instead, you were understanding and supportive of his concerns. It was when he received his first hug from you, and later on that evening, his first kiss from someone real. You were so real to him, and he would burn down the entire city if it meant protecting the one real thing in his life.

Smoothing back your hair, he leans down, pressing his lips against the crown of your head. Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the twitch of your hand or the change in your breathing. "Don’t tell me you’re getting all sentimental on me, Astarion. I would be the one thinking something happened to you," you grumble, keeping your eyes closed and relishing the feeling of his lips against your forehead. A strangled laugh escapes you at the way he tenses before pulling away.

As he looks down at you, you notice how his red orbs seem to glisten, on the verge of tears. Your eyes soften as you meet his gaze, and a small warm smile spreads across your lips. "How long—" "Long enough to hear just the tail end of what you said," you shrug, shifting to sit up. Astarion is quick to help you, turning his head as if he's about to yell something, and that's when it hits you. "Astarion, if you call Halsin in here right now, I will send a stake through you."

Astarion can't help but let out a surprised laugh at your words and the way your eyes narrow into a teasing glare. Reaching up, he caresses your cheek gently and nods. "Then Halsin can wait, but it doesn’t mean I won’t take care of you. You’re everything, Darling. I won’t let anything harm you ever again," he whispers, leaning down to brush his nose against yours gently.

Leaning your forehead against his, your smile only grows at his words. "Then I guess the feeling is mutual. I will protect you even if it means I have to kill Cazador and take a dagger to the side a million times over. For you, I’d do anything." With that, you press your lips to his in a silent promise. In other worlds, Astarion may be the one protecting you with everything he has, but in this one, you’d ruin yourself just to see his smile.

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venussaidso · 11 months ago

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Mercury Dominant Themes — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟖

It seems to be a theme in Revati where all the wealth that has been accumulated from the Uttara Bhadrapada stage is easily accessed, but the native must be deemed worthy or in alignment with this sacred wealth and very often they are (but they gotta prove it usually). Profound, universal secrets are quietly recovered in Revati where elevating/ascension is easily achieved (whether through wealth status, spirituality, surpassing mental limitations etc).

The 12H activates so perfectly in Revati by draining everything away to remind us of those secrets so that we 'wake up' again.

I'm going to use monetary wealth and inheritance for my observation, not spiritual, so bare with me.

Revati reminds us of the duality of privilege and hardship, which is either emphasized in this nakshatra or tends to be taken for granted (how such 12H harsh lessons will come in).

We can see how Revati is the 'nepo baby' nakshatra, but there's more to it if we extend this theme a bit more.

Revati being extremely wealthy while also being a nakshatra about humanity & community further validates it being a universal sign (Pisces).

We can look at the story; The Prince & the Pauper written by Mark Twain who is Revati Moon.

The story is about two boys, the prince and the pauper, who switch places and briefly experience each other's lives. The prince experiences the struggle of a commoner's life, and the pauper gets a taste of the responsibilities of the royal life. This makes them have a deeper understanding and even empathy for each other and others alike. Revati emphasizes the shared humanity of all of us, and that's why this nakshatra tends to use their wealth to give back to communities; going into foreign lands to help others that cannot be helped. This proves them being worthy of their wealth, which is now something that can be maintained and even elevated.

Gaining inheritance but only through challenging conditions is something that I associate with Revati. This falls into them proving themselves worthy of the given wealth or learning to put their ego down to be properly nourished.

The film The Bachelor (1999) is about a man, who is fearful of commitment, is made aware that the only way to inherit his grandfather's wealth is by finding himself a bride. The guy is literally commitment-phobic, but he must change his ways. He is played by a Revati Moon.

It's very interesting that films regarding family monetary/asset inheritance have (Mercurial) nakshatras which trine Revati. For example, the film The Descendants (2011) has a plot where the main character is considering on selling a pristine piece of land that has been passed down throughout generations in his family. The director of this film is a Jyestha Moon.

Or the film Inheritance (2020) stars an Ashlesha Moon who plays a character whose father dies, unfairly leaving her with a small inheritance of $1m compared to her brother - played by a possible Ashlesha Moon - who received $20m.

Unfortunately, she also inherits a lifetime of deception and deadly truths that her father left her to deal with. So, we can see how this trope looks on the flipped side where inheritance can be a curse. Mercury nakshatras are the last to deal with the (family) baggage that tend to be passed on from their family, and they're usually the ones to put an end to curses or cycles. Mercury nakshatras, in the general, are the last stage where all matters from the Jupiter/Saturn nakshatras are dealt with & released. In the film, the deceased father is interestingly played by a Vishakha Sun, Purva Bhadrapada Moon.

Actually, circling back to the film The Bachelor (1999), the deceased grandfather who's willing to pass his wealth to his Revati Moon grandson is actually played by a Pushya Moon, Punarvasu Ascendant. I find that Saturn nakshatras can make things challenging for Mercurial nakshatras, not wanting to let them off too easy. Giving them challenging conditions regarding inheritance. Sometimes, Jupiter/Saturn nakshatras can play a role in which they take advantage of vulnerable, Mercury nakshatra natives.

This is seen in the film Rain Man, which was literally directed by Revati Sun AND Jyestha Moon, Barry Levinson.

The film is about two brothers who reunite after the death of their father. The greedy, selfish brother played by a Pushya/or Punarvasu Moon who realizes that his father left his entire estate to his autistic savant brother who is played by an Ashlesha Sun. The Pushya/or Punarvasu Moon brother kidnaps the Ashlesha in hopes to get him to share his inheritance with him.

Now, very interesting how Mercury nakshatras can be born into wealth but it can all be drained away from recklessness, arrogance, or for a lesson for the natives. Going bankrupt, being dethroned etc. can be Revati/12H themes that make us go boundless, by taking everything away which we held onto most of our lives. It makes sense why the 12H is said to be co-ruled by Ketu. Nakshatras trining Revati can also have these themes extended to them.

The film 'Material Girls' is about two heiresses to a multi-million-dollar company who approach life very recklessly and arrogantly. One day a scandal they get involved in causes the downfall of their family reputation and they shift into a life of being penniless and homeless.

The film stars Jyestha Moon, Hilary Duff, and her sister, Haylie Duff, who has her Mars&Venus in Revati. And the movie is literally directed by Revati Moon, Martha Coolidge.

Another movie to mention is the very first Thor (2011) movie, in which the main character - an arrogant, reckless royal prince - is stripped of his powers and banished from his home. He lands on Earth, powerless and ordinary, where he learns humility and what it truly means to be a hero before reclaiming his status. The main character is played by Ashlesha Sun Chris Hemsworth, and the movie is directed by Jyestha Sun Kenneth Branagh. LMAOOO I MISTAKENLY WROTE JYESTHA MOON IN THE PIC

Now, onto Disney Princesses.

What do these three movies have in common? There's a commonality in their respective storylines. Rapunzel, Princess Aurora, and Princess Anastasia all have a period in the plots where they are not aware of their royal lineage or rightful place on the throne. It becomes a central narrative to move the stories towards these characters finally remembering who they are. 12H themes are at work again here, as 12H will strip you of your identity and create even more confusion of the Self. The 12H is also about remembering who you are again, being reminded of where you belong. These characters are so incredibly Piscean/12th house in nature that of course they can only be voiced by Revati natives!

Tangled (2010) — Mandy Moore voicing Rapunzel

Sleeping Beauty (1959) — Mary Costa as Aurora

Anastasia (1997) — Meg Ryan as Anastasia

Live-action version of Princess Aurora has been played by Elle Fanning; very fittingly lmao.

There's a Barbie Rapunzel movie and Rapunzel was interestingly voiced by a dominant Revati stellium.

And Rapunzel in the Shrek version was voiced by someone with two Ashlesha placements (I know, not the best example but having two repeated nakshatras make them dominant imo).

As I've mentioned, nakshatras that have the same nakshatra lord can share the same themes because they trine as a result, so they're closely connected. But Revati is the face of this post, just btw.

From what I gathered, Revati teaches humility, empathy and compassion. Revati is a nakshatra that sees humanity in all, and this trope is well embodied in the Prince and the Pauper story. Revati teaches us how class and wealth creates illusions of separation, and so the 12H takes that thing you believe 'separates' you from others so that you are reminded of the truth. Reminded, is the key word, because the truth has already been realized Uttarabhadrapada, where self-liberation and abundance is achieved. In Revati, you forget the truth that freed you in Uttarabhadrapada. So, Ketu will remind you (Pisces/12H co-ruled by Ketu) and it will hurt (the process of remembering hurts, but the aftermath is so freeing). But things can go the Disney Princess way, where you have to find your way back to yourSELF. This is how we see Revati natives losing themselves, especially in love, just to forget to remember (which is the whole point of life/humanity... EXACTLY WHY REVATI IS A UNIVERSAL NAKSHATRA).

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disneyboot · 2 years ago

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#disney villains #disney villains' revenge #mickey's house of villains #once upon a halloween #serena valentino #descendants #villainous #twisted wonderland #disney chills #city of villains #dark ascension series #dynamite entertainment #camp lil' vills #yes the last one is real

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thesunloveschips · 4 months ago

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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 13: Dreams and Desires

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Azriel dreams of love and lust and then he finally dares to hope. Nyra's desires begin.

Warnings: not pure smut but still 18+, angst because we see baby Az and his mum, fluff, fluff, SHIRTLESS Azriel and the Truth Teller!

Word count: 9.1k (Enjoy!!)

A/N: @feerique thank you!! for waiting for weeks for this chapter and for giving me your heart in the comments as you reviewed it!! 💜✨✨

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Azriel couldn’t believe it. Nyra was in his arms, looking up at him as if he’d brought the world to her feet. She was content with everything and he could feel her satisfaction through their bond.

But this was a dream and he was a spectator living in his own head.

“Everything was wonderful today, wasn’t it?” Her voice was a gentle affirmation over some happy thing he did not know.

“We had a very nice morning.” She looked at the collar of his shirt, biting her lip bashfully. Azriel wanted to tilt her chin and kiss her right there. One of her palms was situated over his chest, right where his heart rested beneath the shirt and his skin. Her fingers started tapping on his chest.

“A good breakfast. Work finished early. And the dinner! Gods. Az, I didn’t realise how much I needed that dinner with you. It’s been a while since we went on a date.”

Azriel felt his heart soar at her words. He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek. Nyra’s eyes closed and her answering smile was a bright thing filling him with more love and energy than he ever believed he would hold in his heart.

The shadowsinger realised that he had never seen Nyra smile like that in real life. A smile so unrestrained and bright. There was always something that she carried and this Nyra in his dream was so free of everything, so happy. And she was happy in his presence, smiling at his kiss.

“We will, my love.” He heard himself speaking.

How did he even reach here? To the point where he could call her his love? And this slice of happiness that they were sharing right now—oh, what wouldn’t he do for her happiness.

“We'll go on many dates.” His kisses descended to the area beneath her ear. “Go to many places.” He pressed a featherlight kiss to the nape of her neck and she craned. “We’ll do a lot of things.”

“Today was exceptional.” She turned around and led him by the hand to a door.

A bedroom.

Oh shit.

Azriel had no experience with this. No experience with any sort of intimacy with her. He was a mere spectator in his own body as the words flew out of his mouth and this tender moment between them continued.

He was surprised to find that it was not a room he was familiar with nor was the view from the window. He followed her inside and closed the door behind them. He looked around as if seeing the room for the first time.

Their scent was all over it and he inhaled in delight. He also saw many personal effects ranging from clothing to weaponry. The bookshelves were filled. Papers were stuck on the wall. Portraits of the two of them. He swore he’d spotted a blue silk gown of hers lying on a chair.

“Upset at not being able to rip it like you’d wanted?” Nyra teased. His eyes snapped back to meet hers. A mixture of mirth and lust danced around her as she turned to look at that gown. “I do like it. The colour, the fabric, the design—everything makes it too precious for it to be subjected to destruction.”

Her left arm was crossed beneath her breasts while the other’s elbow rested on the wrist of the left. Her fingers played with the loose strands of her hair, her neck and Azriel was aching to taste her skin.

“It does suit you well.” Azriel admitted. The onlooker in his head did not even remember Nyra’s blue gown. Was this something only the Azriel and Nyra in his dream shared? “And you continue to wear it, knowing what it does to me.”

He blushed at his own words. This dream made him feel like a voyeur in his own life.

“Is it the gown that does it to you or is it me?” He had never heard that tone from her. Azriel learned that he was somehow always ready to kneel before her—for her.

“Always you. But the gown speeds things up.” Nyra laughed at that and Azriel felt his own mood lighten at being the cause of her joy.

The last few minutes had so much happiness, so much love—the male he was before could have this much happiness and love over the span of weeks. And everything was with her—between them and gods, he was loving this dream.

The sudden realisation that this was a dream brought him back to another fact that he was a mere spectator, watching this scene through the eyes of the Azriel who was here. The one who said the words he would never have the courage to say.

Envy coursed through him, at how much the Azriel in the dream could freely be with Nyra, love her, touch her. And gods damned his fucking soul but if the talk about that blue silk had any truth in it, then this Azriel was definitely having the time of his life with this lovely female.

“I’ll be a very happy male the day I tear that gown.” He declared. Nyra’s brows raised and she walked towards him and kissed his lips softly.

Azriel wanted to close his eyes or at least look away. This was an intimate moment and he did not want to seem like a pervert indulging in voyeuristic tendencies but gods did he want more of her touch. More of her kisses. More of her.

“Not that gown, Az.” She pulled back and turned around with a hand holding the periwinkle skirts of the gown she was wearing. “Rip this one.” And she threw him a look he immediately classified as erotic, inviting him for a salacious night. “That is, if you can.”

Azriel felt his soul darken at her challenge. He stalked forward, ready with the strength of a predator. His mate stood right where she was. She raised her hand for him to take and found herself flush against him as he kissed her, his other hand grabbing her chin with the palm resting on the side of her neck.

He walked her backwards to where a table was. There was also a chair and Nyra’s legs would’ve hit it but Azriel had grabbed the obstacle and flung it to some other part of the room. His shadows caught the chair mid-air and set it down somewhere without any destruction to the room.

And while the shadowsinger flung the chair elsewhere, his mate grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. Her hand came to where the shirt was beginning to cover him with its buttons and descended with enough force for the buttons to pop off. And with that, he felt the touch of her fingers through the planes of his chest to his abdomen.

“I thought you said I looked good in that shirt.” Azriel, the spectator, couldn’t believe that this was Nyra.

“And you were taking too long to remove it.” She now had a view of Azriel’s bare chest even as he was wearing his shirt and blazer. She looked like she could not decide if she wanted him like this or in a state of complete undress.

“Patience is a virtue.” He chuckled. Azriel loved the way she looked at him. Like she wanted him.

“I’m anything but virtuous right now.” Her hand found its way to his pants as if to prove her point. Four of her fingers found its way inside his pants and his undershorts, and Azriel’s heart almost jumped up to his throat. He clenched his fists for some semblance of control.

“Take off my belt, Nyra.” And her hand left him, trailing just a bit upwards with her nails. Nails he wanted to feel on his arms and back as she held him while he fucked her senseless.

She moved forward, pressing her clothed breasts against his bare chest, feeling him breathe against her. Nyra kissed his lips softly before she whispered. “Make me.”

Azriel woke up, sweating like he’d been subject to a heatwave. Despite the night being cooler than was normal for the season, he sweated enough to have the sheets dampen. The smell of his own sweat was a reminder of the dream he’d just woken from.

Azriel was familiar with nightmares. He had a routine of escaping them by drowning in his work, late night training or maybe a night of sex.

The last one was no longer an option. Maybe he should’ve never bedded anyone, ever. Yes, that would’ve been a wise choice. But the past couldn’t be rewritten and so for now, he’d be celibate until marriage.

Azriel knew he was hard and it was pain and pleasure and such sweet pain he dared not touch it. Mother curse him, Nyra was simply existing in one of the rooms in the House of Wind, completely minding her own business, dealing with her own trauma, probably sleeping since it was so late. She probably saw him as a friend at best and an acquaintance at worst and he was already dreaming of a life with her.

A life where he’d go on a dinner date with her, retire to the privacy of their rooms, kiss her for her smiles and indulge in his desires with her.

That dream which showed the possibility of a life with her—that was the sort of dream people look up at the night sky and wish for. The sort of dreams that one would wish for in the most desperate of moments.

He remembered a conversation with his mother the day his hands were burned. The sweet female that she was, his mother told him something he kept in his heart for all this time.

A female held her son so close to her, so afraid of letting him go. The flames had hurt her son’s hands. He couldn’t even hug his mother back with how much his hands were hurting.

Rain poured that night, heavy and cold. She saw herself in the rain and thanked whatever power that made the clouds weep. The rain had begun falling just as his hands had started burning and was the only reason why there was still a chance his hands would remain functional.

And even though it rained outside their small, dirty cottage, the female could not stop crying. As a mother, she wanted to be strong for her son but what could she do?

She was weak and that was her reality. So weak that she couldn’t even keep her son with her. So weak she couldn’t stop him from being imprisoned from the day he’d been taken from her as a toddler.

She should’ve fled the camp but she’d been worried about how they’d treat a female and babe with no male protection. But her poor son, her darling son, this wonderful boy she’d been blessed with. Perhaps the only blessing she’d ever received in this world and the only one she’ll ever have.

She couldn’t go with this again. She’d go to Windhaven the next time the High Lord’s visit was due. She was once a friend of the female who was now the Lady of the Night. She’d beg for her son’s freedom if need be. But as she felt the tremors of her son who sobbed in her arms, her newfound determination and strength faltered.

“Will it always be like this?” Azriel’s voice was so small, so unpractised in conversation.

“No.” That was the only thing she’d wanted for him. For his life to not remain like this. She didn’t know if it could be better or to what extent it could be better but his life had to be outside that damned cell. “It won’t be like this. You’ll be out in the world, flying. My boy will be strong.”

His mother hoped that the mandatory training for the Illyrians would bring him freedom. War was coming soon and there could never be too many soldiers now. Not with the High Lord’s own son approaching the age of training and whispers of whether the Heir would come to Illyria to train.

“And you’ll have a family of your own and-”

“Please don’t leave me.” Azriel begged, fat tears flowing down his cheeks. “Please. Please. Please. Please.” He’d thought that a new family of his own meant that his mother would be far away. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, my boy.” She kissed his forehead. “I’m here for you. Always.”

“I don’t want a new family.” Azriel sobbed and hiccuped and it was agony not being able to hold his mother or to even clench his own fists. “I only want to live with you.”

“Soon, Azriel. What I meant was that we will have a new family.”

“We?” Azriel peered up at his mother, vision still blurred by his own tears.

“Yes. You, me and the one you love.” His mother sounded hopeful and hopeless at the same time. “And all three of us will be a family together.”

Azriel’s mother had meant to explain romantic love to her son. That she’d prayed for every single day of her life that he’d meet someone good and kind and wonderful and that person would love her son and that her son would love that person and they’d have a happy life together whether or not she’d live long to see that. He knew that now because this conversation had been revisited a few times after he entered adulthood.

His mother had harboured reservations against the mating bond due to how bad it had turned out for her and for many others around her with the former Lady of the Night being the only exception but even then, that wasn’t a legendary romance. It wasn’t until Rhysand himself visited her for her blessings that she felt a little good about it but even then Feyre had yet to meet his mother.

Azriel supposed he was lucky. He was the only one in the Inner Circle with a living parent who was good and kind and so much more. And now, Rhys was the first one in the Inner Circle to have a family of his own with Feyre. And Azriel had the mating bond with Nyra and he wondered and hoped and prayed so badly that he could have something with her.

Something.

Anything.

He would be content with friendship even if she fell in love with another. No matter how much it would kill him.

Liar! The shadows hissed and continued to chant it.

Of course, he was a liar.

A liar because the thought of another male near her making her smile and laugh. Another male kissing her, naked with her. Nyra’s eyes half closed in desire, her hair untied and curls free, completely disrobed as her shoulders and curves for that faceless bastard. . .

The Truth Teller landed on the bookshelf with a thump. The force behind his favourite dagger had caused a long crack on the side of the shelf. The wooden structure would probably fall if he took the dagger off.

The dream triumphed over him again.

And now he was imagining things rather vividly. Images of loving her. Of going to places with her. Kissing her and making her smile so brightly. To rip that gown and make her take off his belt. . .

He needed to get up. He needed a good release, some late night training but his aching cock reminded him how much he needed another kind of release.

****

Nyra woke up from a dreamless sleep in the middle of the night. She found herself in an unfamiliar place but it took time for her to process everything that had happened and realise that this was her bedroom in the House of Wind.

There were a few notes on the bedside table. She guessed that Nesta might’ve written one of them but what about the others? The first note she picked up had Nesta’s name on display. She unfolded it and read its contents.

You became angry at the mention of Hybern and lost control of your power. No one and nothing was harmed. Azriel brought you to bed. I accompanied him.

The two of you disappeared into his shadows right before you completely lost control and when he brought you back, you had fainted from exhaustion.

Food is on the study table if you need some. Your nightdress is on the chair should you feel the need to change.

Rest well.

Nyra found the food and the nightdress. She decided to reread the note in the morning and then meet Azriel to talk to him about whatever happened in the shadows. She was starting to recollect some things but it was mostly her own power trying to release itself.

She took the next note with Azriel’s name and unfolded it.

We can talk about what happened in the shadows over some chocolate cake. After all, I did lure you into attending dinner and you did not even get your reward. I’ll meet you after your lessons with Amren.

Azriel.

Nyra read and reread that note. Azriel’s handwriting was cursive and therefore a little difficult to comprehend since she was seeing it for the first time. The letters that were supposed to be capital letters were small ones written in a bigger size. The Ys looked like they had a tail, the small Ds and Bs had feather-like extensions. The only crinkle on the note was in the middle from where it had been folded. Very fancy handwriting indeed.

There was another note with no name. She took it and opened it.

Hey! I just wanted to know if you were okay. If you need anything, we’re here.

Nyra frowned upon seeing no name. She looked at the entire page and then flipped it and there was still nothing to identify its writer. The handwriting was an unfamiliar one and rather bad according to her standards. Nyra looked around and rose from bed, heading over to the table where Amren’s books were neatly stacked. A little note was on top of it.

Read.

-Amren.

Nyra took the first book and opened it. She skinned through the pages and then closed it. A lidded bowl was placed next to the books with cutlery wrapped in a napkin. It was a bowl of hot soup and the steam carried its aroma. She closed it and looked at the nightdress on the chair—a thin, white thing. She had to change.

She removed her dress where she stood and removed her undergarments and quickly put on the nightdress. She found a full length robe in the wardrobe which was more extravagant than practical with the silk and lace but at least, it reached the floor and was full sleeved.

The first book was a general introduction to magic. She read that rather easily and quickly. The next was on types and uses.

And hours passed. She’d woken up at eleven at night and it was now nearly four. She’d finished three out of five books and had had that soup at some point.

A yawn escaped her and she stood up to stretch her arms and twist her body. Nyra looked around and decided to sleep. In response to her wishes, the magic of the House turned off the lights and that was when she noticed the shadow outside her door. It was prominent due to the lighting outside her room.

The lights turned on again and she finally noticed the wisps of darkness creeping in from under the door. She walked over and opened the door. Azriel stood there, his hand in a fist as if he was going to knock, his eyes widening as he met her gaze.

“I. . .” He swallowed. Azriel saw her, what she was wearing and the way her hair was untied. The warm light seemed to accentuate her features—the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, those lips he’d only kissed in that dream.

And that robe that was wrapped around her frame only because Nyra held on to it like that. She hadn’t tied it and had opted to simply hold it tight against herself. The way her breasts moved with every step as she walked out of that door and he realised that she was probably not wearing her undergarments. At least not her bra.

He made all of these observations within the first second and by the next, he was looking at her face, desperate to kiss her after the dream he’d just had. He needed her touch.

“Are you okay?” He finally asked and exhaled deeply.

Nyra looked at him not knowing why he looked so nervous. Was there something on her face? “I’m fine. I think. Are you alright? You look rather. . . flushed.”

Azriel felt the warmth in his body increase. He looked to the ground, suddenly shy and Nyra had no way of knowing that this incredibly beautiful male could be so enchantingly adorable.

“What happened?” She asked softly. “Do you have a fever?”

Azriel looked at her. Oh fuck, he looked bad enough that she was worried for a fever. “Why are you worrying for me when you’re the one who’s been awake for hours?”

“I have no reason not to be worried for you. And have you not been awake for hours with the way you’re dressed? Did you come back from somewhere?” Nyra replied. “And how long have you been standing outside my room?”

“I’ve been awake. . . for some time. I was training.” He mumbled, averting his gaze once again. He did feel rather warm at her worry for him. “It’s only been a few minutes since I’ve been outside your door.”

Ninety two minutes. The shadows whispered mockingly.

“Do you want to come in?” Her invitation was an innocent one but the one Azriel did not trust was his own self.

He’d had a partially erotic dream about her and had woken up with a very hard cock that seemed to have an issue calming down. He’d been forced to take care of it and it seemed to have a mind of its own and with a very clear obsession. And now that he knew that Nyra was in her nightdress with that pathetically thin robe and no underwear, he couldn’t trust himself around her in a bedroom of all places.

“No, thank you.” Azriel was mortified by the way he spoke. Did his desire reveal itself through his voice or did he sound pathetic? “It’s late. We need our sleep.”

And he’d scare her if he said he wanted to sleep with her. Wanted to know her skin and the feel of it against his own. He wanted to be deep within her, her bare breasts against his chest as he pounded deep and hard into her. To suck on her neck and have her lose her mind enough to make her cling to him as he pleasured her.

He wanted to tell her that he was attracted to her. That he liked her. That he loved talking to her when she was a human and that he missed those talks. The way she showed interest in this world and how she’d eagerly listen to his stories of Velaris and his life. The stories she told him about the human lands. The scare he got when she coughed blood in front of him as a weakened mortal.

She was weakened. She was not born weak. The shadows raged. She was harmed.

Azriel knew his shadows had stalked her like the creepiest of beings and had been dead set on obtaining every morsel of information on Nyra that existed. They’d found the old cottage where they lived, the ruins of their former estate where the sisters spent their childhood, and investigated every corner.

The bed has answers. The shadows whispered. Let us investigate. The bed on which she was born. Azriel knew exactly what the shadows were talking about. They were psychometric like that but some of their abilities required his express consent. And that is precisely what he granted.

Meanwhile, Nyra looked at Azriel who wore his leathers, the weapons strapped to different parts of his body revealed that much. But god knew why he was training in the middle of the night. He was behaving rather oddly. He was staring at her face.

“Is there something on my face?” Nyra touched her cheek and frowned.

“No. Why’d you ask?” Yes, your face is beautiful. I want to hold it and kiss it. Please don’t frown. He couldn’t say any of that.

“You’ve been staring at me for so long.”

“I apologise for making you feel uncomfortable” Azriel looked away.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Nyra quickly spoke. Azriel was rather shy right now and it was new to her. It was different from the male who visited their estate late at night to tell them stories of the fae. But Azriel was still Azriel. He was. . . divine. “I thought I had food or something else on my face.”

“Your face is. . . fine.” It was a struggle not to compliment her face. That adorable face. She was a dainty being compared to his powerfully built self even when she was taller than most females. And she looked so inviting in a homely sense, ready for bed with that nightdress and hair down and the dim lights.

And he wanted to be with her.

From the moment he first held her, he wanted her in his arms all day, everyday.

But he had to focus on the conversation right now. She’d said something about food on her face. “That means you’ve had the food?”

“Yes?” She looked at him, pleasantly surprised that he’d made that observation.

“You mentioned you couldn’t sleep.”

She simply nodded, her gaze now far away.

“If you need anything—a tonic, or a healer or someone to talk-”

“That’s the thing.” She whispered, a pained look haunting her eyes. She was looking to his left. Maybe at his siphon. “I don’t know what I need.”

“What do you feel?” Azriel focused on the bond and found it beginning to close but with whatever was still open, he took a peak. The storms in her mind had grown.

“Why do you keep asking so many questions?” Nyra looked at him defensively. He could feel the power of her mind, her storms and felt her walls build up more.

“Because I do not wish for you to remain where you are right now.” He hoped he was saying the right thing. If not the right thing, then he did not want to make it worse.

“I’m here. In your city. In your home. I’m no longer. . . at liberty to return to my own. I am stuck here.”

Azriel decided to pretend that her words did not break him and continue this. To provoke her so that she’d talk. It was the only thing he knew how to do. To make people talk. This would help her acknowledge. Talking out loud could be a step to acceptance.

“I don’t know if I’ve gained anything and I’ve lost everything.” She was trying to control her tears. “Nesta feels like she’s in the middle of a war and everything about Elain feels like she’s ready to float away into nothingness.” And the tears began falling. “I. . . I don’t. . There’s so much and. . . So much information and everything is jumbled and all over the place and I don’t even know if. . . And there was so much miasma in the Cauldron—it was so unbreathable and. . .”

Azriel walked forward and laid a hand on her cheek and wrapped another around her middle and rested it on her back. There was one duty he had right now—to help her through this.

His instincts roared at him to care and he was more than ready to do that. The shadows gently caressed her, taking away the strands of hair on her face. And Nyra still held her robe tightly even as he was now closer.

“Why are you here?” Azriel knew she would ask this question. She would probably never stop asking this question.

“Because I want to be.” He answered. This is where I want to be—with you. You are who I want to take care of.

Because there was no lie in that. His desires aside, he’d been waiting for his mate solely because he wanted to take care of her. He didn’t know what species or what sex or when his mate would be reborn. He just knew that the next time she was in the same realm as him, he wanted to take care of her.

Even when he did not know for sure that there could be any form of attraction between them, he only wanted this. For five centuries, the only thing he clung onto was his wish to take care of his mate. And he’d be damned if he let something like sexual attraction cloud his mind while she was confused and upset.

Not that he was denying that he wasn’t attracted to her. He was. Nyra was a beautiful female as a human. He’d noted that. She was a female unlike any other. And when she became fae, it became a struggle to be in her presence so that he wouldn’t fall to his knees in front of her just like that. And not even twenty four hours had passed since she woke up.

But the one thing he knew for sure was that he wanted to take care of her. And he would do that no matter what. Her tears had cleared his mind and there was a purpose now—to nurture and protect.

Nyra pulled back from the hug, eyes still tearful and cheeks redder and puffier. He wiped the tears on her cheeks and released her from his touch. She could do nothing but watch as Azriel and his gentle behaviour reached something within her. She wanted this. More of his softness. But her mind was too disoriented at the moment to ponder more on that.

“Go to sleep. Alright? No reading books or convincing yourself that you’d sleep after one more chapter. Hm? We’ll have that chocolate cake tomorrow. I’ll meet you after your lessons for Amren.”

Nyra nodded at him and yawned. She covered her mouth with a hand and then looked at him again with that sleepy face. “Good night.” She waved her hand. “Go to sleep, Az. You need it just as much as I do. If not more.”

“Good night.” And the door closed and was locked. The lights went off and Azriel could hear her breathing as it slowly evened into a slow melody.

Azriel walked away. He went to his room, tapped his siphon to remove his leathers and wore the sweatpants and settled in for sleep. It was easy. He thought of her. The progress both of them had made and soon, he fell asleep. The shadows remained quiet, letting their master sleep, even with all the things they were planning to investigate. There was much to uncover and a few of them slithered away into the night to begin their task.

****

Morning brought clarity and doubt. Nyra remembered so many things now. Her own memories from the earliest days of her life including her life as a babe. Her memories from other lives that were scattered like sheets of paper stacked in dusty piles, ready to fall down and make a mess. She had to sort through all of them.

She looked at her hands. The right hand had the tattoo after her bargain with Rhysand. The left was, well… Her scar remained but it had become a bit faint. Just a bit. She remembered her own insistence that it remain as her body was weaved inside the Cauldron.

And she remembered Azriel’s voice telling her to let it all out as her power roared like an untamed beast within her. The darkness that had surrounded them and him holding her. All that pain and relief as the storm within her was unleashed. Lightning followed thunder and so did the shadows and winds.

Nyra remembered hearing a very soothing sound. She remembered trying to focus on it and eventually telling him how tired he was. He did say something after that but Nyra was far too close to sleep at that point to be able to remember right now what he said.

The memory of Azriel holding her felt too intimate. And she’d touched his chest and grabbed his shirt. She felt his touch on her head and waist—how she had leaned on to his chest as she caught her breath. And that soothing sound was so clear at that moment. It finally felt like she could breathe.

And when he’d visited her not more than a couple of hours ago, Nyra remembered her own nervousness. Things had changed between them since she became fae. Whatever friendship they’d forged while she was still human was now a forgotten painting in the background. Now, it was as if they were familiar and yet so distant with one another. And she did not like that.

Azriel was her first friend outside her little circle which comprised only of her sisters. He was the first person unrelated by blood who had begun to inch closer to her circle. And suddenly, he was no longer there.

These thoughts continued to haunt Nyra as she bathed and dressed for the day. The mirror kept showing her a resplendent female, brimming with health. But her mind began whispering of the broken, wretched woman she was. The scar on her left palm reminded her of the past she had attempted to bury. Would things be better if she accepted this? A life as a fae? The future of an immortal?

Nyra exited her room and saw Nesta and Feyre engrossed in a very serious conversation.

“We shall resume later.” Nesta declared in a low voice, allowing no room for opposition and walked towards Nyra, followed by Feyre.

“I take it you did not rest well.” Nesta was still walking over and when she finally reached her, she cupped Nyra’s face and examined her.

“Did you have soup?” Feyre asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Nyra took Nesta’s hands and removed them from her cheek but continued to hold them. She was supposed to be mad at Nesta for not properly addressing things between her and Feyre but the way the two of them were fussing over her first thing in the morning did calm the skies in her mind.

“I had the soup. It was delicious.” She looked at Feyre. Nyra didn’t have it within her to smile but she hoped her expression was appreciative enough. “Thank you.” She added for good measure.

“I read the notes. Yours.” She turned to Nesta. “Azriel’s. Amren’s. And an anonymous one.”

“That was me.” Feyre smiled sheepishly.

“Write your name the next time so that I know it’s you.” Nyra watched her beam with a smile. Truly, her youngest sister looked radiant like the brightest star.

Nyra noted that Feyre looked happy. She was happy. So carefree. Like the wind was blowing and Feyre only needed to enjoy the pleasant breeze on her cheek than worry about any worn out clothing on her back. And despite not being able to recognise her, Nyra did feel relief. Feyre had no more responsibility to provide for the family.

“This is good.” She took Feyre’s hands in her own and the latter knew that Nyra was not talking about dresses or pants. Nyra felt something warm and cosy rising within her. Feyre was starting to be recognisable.

Nyra lifted a hand to touch her sister’s cheek. “You’ve done so well, my dear. Thank you for everything.”

Feyre inhaled sharply, tears pooling in her eyes but she craned her face upwards and shut her eyes tightly to prevent the tears. Nyra felt like she shouldn’t hug Feyre. As if the tears she was trying to control would fall if she did hug her. And if Feyre did not want to cry, then Nyra was not going to make her.

“The two of you should wear pants.” Feyre breathed. “Amren’s flat is in the city. Pants are more practical for flight.”

Nesta turned her body to look at Feyre, her coldness melting into nothing. “What’s a flat?”

Feyre blinked and then let out an awkward laugh. “A flat is a residence in a building. A building usually has multiple flats. You’ll get a better understanding once you visit Amren.”

“Flight?” Nyra was confused.

“You’ll be flying to reach Amren.” Feyre smiled brightly. “Cassian and Azriel will take you.”

“And how will we fly?”

“They’ll carry you.” Feyre looked a little lost.

Nesta’s spine straightened at the mention of being carried. She would choose Azriel unless he walked over to Nyra. She had no interest in being touched by Cassian lest she combust from the contact alone. Nesta could barely breathe in his presence. Concentration was something else she lost in his vicinity. Nesta hoped Nyra would be fine with Cassian. They seemed to be normal around each other. As normal as could be considering the present circumstance.

“Pants. Alright.” Nyra’s voice brought Nesta back to the present, away from her own head. She looked at Nyra, appreciating that effect she had on her. “We need to wear pants.”

The sisters went into the rooms, scoured the wardrobes, found appropriate clothing and wore them.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Nyra turned and looked at the mirror, seeing how nicely the pants fit her and how cosily the fabric rested from behind. “And this won’t be too improper or anything?”

“I’m wearing pants.” Feyre pointed towards her own pair of brown pants and twirled once.

“You’re used to life here. We’re not.” Nesta gave that reminder. The twins were still unsure. They were not used to something that showed the shape of their legs no matter how much they liked how the pants looked on them.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it, you can still change.” Feyre offered. Nyra knew there were enough gowns for her to wear each day of the month without repeating any of them. But she couldn’t stop admiring herself and how good she looked in these clothes. Especially the behind. Nyra could not stop admiring her legs.

“Yes, your legs look particularly good.” Feyre teased. A thought popped up. She immediately connected with Rhys over their bond and simply told him to bring Azriel and Cassian for breakfast no matter what. “Now, I’m hungry. If you are comfortable with your outfit, shall we have breakfast?”

The three Archerons exited the room and then stopped outside Elain’s room. When the door remained unanswered after they’d knocked and waited, they finally went inside. Elain was sleeping unexpectedly peacefully. They decided not to disturb her and moved ahead.

As they descended the stairs, they discussed Amren’s books. Nesta had also been given the same set of books which she found in her room after dinner. She read it through the night and now, the sisters were discussing its contents.

“It’s all theory.” Nesta explained to Feyre. “Books on history, introduction, types. Mostly the classifications according to Courts and the other types for daily use. Then there was combat magic with a brief mention of the Illyrians’ killing power.”

“That section had less information compared to what Azriel already told us.” Nyra recalled.

“Azriel told you?” Feyre was now curious like a cat. Rhys had just informed her that he’d told Azriel and Cassian to come to breakfast. Or he’d drag them anyway.

“He did frequent us when we were still humans.” Nyra sounded upset. “And he told us a lot and we told him a lot.”

“Good morning! Oooh! The pants look good.” Morrigan’s cheerful voice was far too loud. Nesta nodded at her once and then headed towards the dining table, ignoring Rhysand’s curious eyes as she searched for something. She finally found it and took a mug full of it for herself. One sip and she found herself at peace.

“Had your coffee?” Nyra’s voice came from behind. Morrigan had caught hold of Nyra’s free arm and led her and Feyre to the dining table with much enthusiasm.

“So that’s what you were looking for.” Rhysand noted, a little amused.

“Yes.” Nesta looked at both of them in turn. She then took another sip and felt some sense of peace within her. “I feel like a new woman.” Nesta looked at the coffee as she remembered that she was in fact a new woman after becoming fae. A new female. She did not understand how to deal with that.

“Have a croissant, Nesta Archeron.” And Rhysand was now walking towards them. He took a stop to pick up a plate and a croissant and then walked ahead. He extended the plate to Nesta who looked at him questioningly but took it from his hand. She found a seat, set her mug and plate on the table, broke a piece of it and dipped it into the coffee.

Nyra watched the odd interaction between her twin and Rhysand. She was sure that the two of them did not like each other and would only be civil for everybody else’s sake but this was not mere civility. Nyra looked at Feyre who was equally shocked at this behaviour from both of them. Even more shocked when Nesta thanked him for the croissant.

“Fancy some coffee, Nyra?” Rhysand turned to her with an easy smile.

“Or some wine? You missed a few good bottles last night.” Morrigan was far too excited this early in the morning. “The two of you definitely need wine if you’re going to Amren’s for lessons.”

Feyre simply let go of Nyra’s arm and went to a side of the table from where she produced a mug. It was a hot beverage but it was not coffee. “Here.” And she extended it to Nyra who recognised the aroma after ages.

“Hot chocolate?” Mor looked confused but by then, Nyra had taken a sip and sighed in content. She hugged Feyre from the side and then turned to Mor.

“It’s far too good.” And then she turned to Rhysand. “Superior to coffee.”

“Nothing is superior to coffee.” Rhysand declared.

“It breathes life into the body.” Nesta’s words had them all surprised. Not only was she siding with Rhys but the High Lord seemed pleased by her answer.

“This would be good with chocolate spread too.” And Nesta stood up, searching the long table for that. A bowl with the same flew over to her, carried by night. It was settled right in front of her croissant and she looked up at Rhys and offered him an awkward word of gratitude.

“I find good wine to be an elixir for the soul.” Mor declared.

“Will you be saving some space in your stomach for anything other than this elixir? A healthy breakfast, perhaps?” Nyra asked, looking rather amused. Mor smiled brightly, took her arm and brought her to the table where a good array of breakfast foods were served.

“With all of this, I most certainly will.” Mor set her wine glass on the table and grabbed three plates, before handing one to Nyra and Feyre. “Take a round and pick your pick.” And Mor led the way as three females circled the table, chose their foods and finally sat down.

“How’s Elain?” Mor asked, genuinely worried.

Nesta looked up at that question, took a sip of her coffee and finally answered the question. “Asleep with no nightmares.”

“You should sleep at night, Nesta.” Mor spoke seriously.

Nesta glared at her as an indication to be quiet.

“You purposefully kept yourself awake to escape your own nightmares and ensure you’d be there if they had any.” Nesta believed that Mor had a death wish with the way she wouldn’t stop speaking.

“Wait. What?” Nyra turned to her and then looked at Mor and then at Feyre. Everyone knew that this revelation before Nyra had been purposefully made because she was the only one Nesta would ever listen to. Nyra marched over to Nesta and sat next to her and just as she was about to start lecturing, they heard Cassian’s voice from the doorway.

“Who has nightmares?” The general asked as he sauntered into the room, half naked and sweaty. Nesta stared into her coffee mug, absolutely determined not to look at Cassian or even contemplate how delicious he looked.

“Nesta.” Rhys answered, frowning at Cassian. Something other than coffee seemed to be breathing life into her twin’s body and Nyra knew she’d have the time of her life teasing Nesta about this.

But all that mirth seemed to dissipate into thin air as Azriel walked in, shirtless and equally sweaty, with the Truth Teller spinning between his fingers. His chest seemed to be a work of art with his sweat providing it with an additional layer that had Nyra’s mind blank within the next second.

With his black curly hair sticking to his face at the side, the shadowsinger walked in oozing raw power and a level of satisfaction he had only after a good spar.

He had a light beard and the more Nyra looked at him, the more she felt something in her stomach. Did she eat something bad? But she had yet to have breakfast and even then that tingling feeling in her stomach rose. Her breasts felt warm and heavier and she did not understand this at all. Was this some effect shadowsingers had on the people around them?

And Nyra did not know where to look. His very umm. . . nice chest? With all those muscles and uh. . . . A little hairline that disappeared into his pants? Nyra knew she had to look away from his unreasonably attractive chest and the pants and. . . oh gods, she was also wearing pants today. But his muscles seemed to be such a delicacy. She wondered whether she could take a bite and. . . no. She had to breathe and be normal.

Nothing wrong with Azriel and the lack of a shirt. Except, it was the first time she’d seen someone without a shirt because Cassian walking in ten seconds earlier clearly slipped from her mind. And Azriel already had a very beautiful face—the kind of face you’d imagine for the male leads in historical romances. So swoon worthy that the ladies would have to fan themselves constantly lest they faint from the heat upon watching him.

Nyra took a sip of her hot chocolate, effectively hiding her face behind it for all of seven seconds before she had to put the mug down for appearance’s sake.

There was something strong in the air and it became stronger as Azriel walked towards the table. Nyra slowly realised that the smell of Nesta’s coffee, Mor’s wine and her own hot chocolate had somehow parted the way for something. . . woody? She had yet to identify it but this was not the scent of any of the foods or drinks on the table. She began focusing on people. Nesta smelled like snow touched by the sun. Feyre was like water from a stream. But this scent was cold. What was it?

And Nyra was transported back to a time when she and Nesta snuck out to the lake near their estate back when they were seven. It was a misty night and they held each other’s hands. Nyra held a lantern for the way and Nesta held a stick. They realised far too late that they had neared the lake until Nyra took a step and they heard the water beneath her foot. They had wanted to see the stars but the mist was too thick. And Nyra loved it. She loved the lake situated in the middle of the woods.

And that was the scent she recalled as Azriel walked in. And just as she realised it, Nyra tried to look away only to notice something else.

His hand—what was his hand doing and why was it doing that? Why was it playing with the Truth Teller like it was just a stick or something? She could rotate a pen in her hand like that but that was a bloody dagger. A dagger darker than the shadows, crafted from something greater. She could feel its power and how it submitted to the one who was effortlessly playing with it and what did she want with these thoughts? And his fingerless gloves with the siphon at the back of it. . .

Azriel’s face was probably the most lethal feature at the moment because this male’s face was something else entirely. Thick well-shaped eyebrows, a beautiful nose, and lips and that tongue darting out to wet his lips as he looked around with a plate for whatever he wanted for breakfast. And Nyra inhaled sharply when something tugged at her wrists.

Somewhere between looking—it was only looking, she had only seen him, it was not like she’d observed him too closely, no, no, no. Anyway, the shadows had already approached her and had secured themselves around her wrists.

Nyra looked at them and her thoughts about Azriel poofed away. She felt all her being soften for these wonderful little darlings. The shadows danced around her hands and the moment they became ticklish, she let out a laugh. The shadows seemed to take that laugh as encouragement and continued to tickle her. “Stop it.” She couldn’t stop laughing but it did end when the shadows retreated.

Nyra watched as the wonderful beings floated back to their master, realising that Azriel commanded them to retreat after she’d told them to stop. Azriel was watching her and his lips spread into a grin. Nyra suddenly felt a jolt of joy within her and she grinned back.

“Read your books?” The shadowsinger took a seat in all his bare-chested glory, finding a pear and taking a bite. The shadows poured him something she did not notice.

“Do they tell you about all that?” She spared a glance at the shadows and then returned her gaze to his. . . eyes. Of course, she was looking at his eyes. Not at his. . . the rest of his phenomenally statuesque body that she suddenly started having unspeakable thoughts about.

“That they do.” Azriel nodded. He had been surprised at seeing a wall blocking the bond from her side but Nyra this morning was somewhat of an open book.

“Are you spying on me?” Nyra asked playfully and Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. Not much of an open book, it seemed.

“They waited outside your bedroom. They’re worried after last night.” For someone who was the Spymaster, he was openly revealing how he spied on her. Or how the shadows spied on her. Rhysand watched with a smirk hidden behind his glass of juice. Feyre hit his leg before telling him mind to mind to control his expressions.

“You waited outside my bedroom last night” The words escaped her before she could even think and once it did, she felt free and she wanted to feel like that. Nyra raised her eyebrows and smirked like a cat. Azriel choked on his beverage, not at all expecting Nyra to be flirtatious first thing in the morning. This female was never predictable.

By then, Nesta slid a plate towards Nyra, filled with toast and eggs. A bowl of fruits soon followed and so did Nesta’s piercing glare. “Eat.”

Nyra knew Nesta was probably horrified at her recent comment at Azriel. “Yes, mum.” She began with the fruits, enjoying all that she previously could not.

“Don’t ever call me that.” Nesta glared at her, taking a sip of her coffee to calm herself.

“All right.” Nyra had another piece of melon. “Mum.” At that, another plate of toast was slammed in front of her.

“Have a variety, my dear.” There was something wicked in Nesta’s voice. And Nyra knew that her perceptive twin had probably noticed her after Azriel had entered. “You need not worry about a strict diet from now on anyway.” Nesta grinned impishly. Nyra faltered, feeling like a child wary of her mother’s scolding if she did not comply. “Eat till you’re full.”

Nyra did eat. Conversation floated with Mor from Nyra’s right telling them about Amren and how cranky the old witch was and how she might end up threatening to drink their blood for lunch. The old story of Rhys and his failed flirtation with Amren came up.

“I just remembered.” And Nyra turned to Azriel. “We need to talk about last night.”

Nesta spat her coffee to the side and looked between the two of them. “What?” She asked, partially mortified at what Nyra’s words seemed to imply.

“When I lost control of my powers. I need to know more about it.” Nyra looked at her. “Don’t look at me like that.” Nesta was looking at her in complete mortification despite her clarification.

“That sounded like something else.” Nesta spoke, taking a napkin and dabbing at her chin.

“How is it my fault that those smutty romances are messing with your head?” Nyra shot back.

“Your words seemed to insinuate something.” Nesta countered.

Nyra continued to look at Nesta, unimpressed. “A whole load of your delusions, I imagine.”

“Well…” Nesta trailed away, blushing slightly and it was the horror of the morning when she accidentally met Cassian’s gaze and saw how he was looking at her. Like someone had punched him in the gut. And then he grinned like a buffoon and Nesta looked at her mug. It was empty but her mind certainly wasn’t.

“You fell asleep when we were in the shadows. I brought you back to your room.” Azriel spoke, his voice a little too deep that Nyra did notice. She looked at him. Azriel wanted to reach out and touch her cheek and hold her. Last night had been a wild stroke of luck. Not only had he held her but she had also clutched his shirt. And then he’d been privileged to embrace her again outside her bedroom. Outside was the key word here. “Nobody was hurt. You’re unhurt. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Nyra repeated, unconvinced and stared at him. Azriel held her stare, adamant at making her believe that everything was fine. Nyra broke their eye contact. “Fine.” And she resumed her meal. Azriel had finished his pear and was now moving on to the contents of his plate. Neither of them spoke or even looked at each other for the reminder of the breakfast.

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