#Imagine telling the small folk who fear you because of your dragons that you are not invincible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

official-weasley · 3 years ago

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Charlie's Helping Hand

A/N: For all who don't know @am-i-space and I are (healthily obsessed) with freckled gingers who steal your heart because they are adorable and pure! Two of those are the one and only Charlie Weasley and Commander Gren from The Dragon Prince.

We have made up quite a few stories about them (separate and together) and about a month ago we came up with Charlie being friends with Gren and Amaya. @am-i-space had the idea for a drawing of the 3 of them at once and without really knowing we were doing it, we started working together on this little project below my rambling!

After definitely not losing their mind about the eyes and Charlie's hair EVEN ONCE and me finally getting the inspiration for how to bring Charlie into a different universe, we are ready to post it!

As you might've figured by now the drawing below this author's note belongs to the beautiful, talented and amazing @am-i-space who pleasantly surprised me with every draft piece I received of this drawing and the story behind how this drawing "came to be" belongs to yours truly.

PS. Read to the end to find out how this beautiful piece of art came to existence in the story 💙🖤

“Charlie, you are going to love Katolis.” Gren grinned at his friend as they were walking up the path that will take them back to Gren's homeland.

“I love traveling so I think I will have no problem with it,” Charlie smiled back at him, “and besides you said that it's full of magic and dragons just roam free. It's like you are describing a dream.”

“It wasn't always like that. Dragons were feared and people and magic folk didn't know how to live together.” Gren sighed, remembering the days before their land became one.

“Right, king Ezran and his brother were running away from an elf assassin and they found an egg and joined forces to return it to its mother.” Charlie narrowed his eyes, trying to get the facts straight.

—

It's been almost two years since the great battle at the Storm Spire. The dragon queen has awakened and Zym was finally reunited with his mother. She took care of him, taught him how to fly better – even though Ez did an incredible job already. She also showed her son how to roar and how to use his electric breath.

Xadia was one land again and it thrived like never before. The magic spread to the Five Kingdoms and the people and the magic folk could move freely without sneaking around and fear each other.

Everything was perfect until one day when the dragon prince went flying and got caught up in a giant storm. Because he was still struggling to control his wing movement – when the winds were strong – he got caught up in a whirl and got smashed into a mountain.

Azymondias was found by his mother after she went looking for him as he didn't return home. At first, he appeared to be fine but when the queen wanted to take him flying she noticed that one of his wings was damaged. She sought help from the king of Katolis and his friends.

King Ezran's heart was broken when he found out and gathered a party to visit Zym at once. He couldn't believe it was even worse than he imagined it would be – all of Zym's bones in his left wing were broken and no matter how many elves and how many mages they gathered, nothing could mend his wing.

It seemed that all was lost and that the dragon prince will never be able to fly until one night when Commander Gren was finally ready to talk about his experience of being locked up in the castle dungeon by lord Viren.

He told his best friend general Amaya about everything he heard and seen happening. With his help, they were able to find the coins in which Viren stored souls and with the help of a high mage from the kingdom of Duren their lives were restored and Runaan was safely returned to his husband Ethari and his adopted niece Rayla.

Because Gren found it hard to talk about the whole situation and would gladly completely forget about the horrid experience, he decided to visit Runaan at his home in Silvergrove.

Every time Gren woke up in the middle of the night, having a nightmare that he was back in that dungeon, he felt like he was missing something. He knew that Viren was going down there for a reason and not just to interrogate Runaan. The thoughts kept him awake and he tried his hardest to remember where he was going and if he heard any noises that would help him figure it out.

As Gren expected, Runaan wasn't keen on talking about his experience in the castle of Katolis either but when Gren explained his feelings and the need to talk about it and to help him find out what was happening while they were there, Runaan put his feelings aside and decided to share his part of the story.

When Runaan told Gren about the weird questions Viren was asking him about a mirror and what does it do and how important it had to be for the lord because he seemed very frustrated when he didn't get his answers, Gren decided that it was time to put his fear aside and head down to the dungeons once more.

After telling Amaya everything and informing her of his plan to go and investigate – being so sure that the guards missed something when they rescued him – Amaya wanted to go with him.

She knew Gren more than anyone and it still pained her to this day that she was so far away when everything Viren was doing back at the castle went down that she simply couldn't allow him to relive that alone. She knew Gren was brave and just about the most optimistic and cheerful person she will ever have a chance to meet but she also knew that behind his bubbly personality Gren was hiding all the negative feelings and the trauma of what he went through in those few weeks while being down there.

She knew there will be no way of stopping Gren from going because he has never been so sure that something Viren was hiding down there could help Zym so instead of arguing with her lieutenant she decided to go with him.

As always when they go on a mission they geared up – better be too safe than sorry – and headed to the dungeons.

Before they opened the door that led to the lower parts of the castle, Amaya turned to Gren one more time.

Are you really sure you want to do this? She signed.

I am. I have to see what is down there or I will never have a peaceful night's rest. Gren signed back, his brows furrowed in determination.

Amaya just nodded, admiring how brave her best friend was for facing his problem head-on, and opened the door.

They walked down the stairs and came to the place where Gren was cuffed.

Amaya gave him a worried look while Gren avoided looking at her and the wall he was chained to. Taking a deep breath he first headed to where he knew Runaan was kept. They only found an empty cell with a small window with bars on it so they headed in the other direction.

They have been looking around, opening doors to empty cells for about half an hour until Gren tried turning the knob of a wooden door and it didn't open.

He exchanged a look with Amaya who nodded to him that he should force-open it with his foot. Gren did as he was told but the door still didn't move.

Amaya frowned – not liking when something didn't go her way – so she stepped next to Gren and counting to 3 on her fingers they repeated the action together. The door gave way to their force and they stumbled inside.

The room was a bit bigger than the others they have found. It was windowless making it completely dark with only a small wooden table, a chair, and something covered with a cloth.

Is this it? Amaya signed at Gren who was observing the covered artifact with his mouth slightly opened.

Gren could only muster a small nod. Amaya knew that this was hard on Gren and even though her curiosity was growing she gave him the time to make the step toward it and uncover the object.

The commander shook his head to collect his thoughts and swallowed thickly before approaching it. He lifted his arm slowly, grabbed the cloth, and pulled it down. Amaya and Gren both gasped, not prepared to see a mirror in front of them.

At the first glance, it looked like any other mirror, but then something shone inside it and their reflections disappeared. They saw what looked like an empty office or a library. They knew at once that this was no ordinary mirror and that it would be best if they don't meddle with it but call in someone who might better know what this mirror is for or better yet what it does.

After a month of searching and inviting the best mages in the whole land, including elves from all parts of Xadia, they figured out that the mirror served as a prison in another realm for a startouch elf. They were able to find an elf that knew of startouch elves and who they were.

The only one of their kind the king of Katolis and his aunt Amaya knew was Aaravos who they had to fight to keep Zym alive at the battle that brought them peace. Since lord Viren was associated with Aaravos it was only reasonable that he was the one who was inside the mirror.

King Ezran wasn't delighted to find out that this wasn't the last they would hear of the elf and wanted to resolve the mystery behind the mirror at once.

“You mean the little bug that turned into an elf with a bigger bug around his shoulder?” Soren asked, perplexed when Ezran was telling him, Callum, Corvus, and Opeli what was going on.

“Do you know anything about him?” Ezran gasped, encouraging Soren to tell him more.

“Well, not really. Father was very secretive about him. I remember when we were marching to Lux Aurea he was talking to the little bug on his ear. If my memory isn't deceiving me, Viren was telling him about how he and your dad, Ezran, defeated the dragon king.” Soren said, rubbing his chin and trying to remember more.

“Why would Aaravos want to know about that?” Opeli failed to understand.

“Perhaps he was trapped in the mirror when that happened?” Corvus suggested.

“Viren sounded very proud of his accomplishment, speaking with the voice he uses when he brags about something to someone for who he thinks he did them a favor.” Soren continued.

“Why would killing Zym's dad be a favor to Aaravos?” Ezran thought out loud.

“No!” Callum gasped and stood up.

“What? What did you remember?” Ezran wanted to know.

“No, it's too farfetched.” Callum swung his hand for them to stop paying attention to him.

“No, no. Do tell,” Opeli encouraged him, “perhaps you are onto something.”

“Well,” Callum cleared his throat, “would it be possible that the dragon king had something to do with Aaravos' imprisonment inside the mirror?”

“Get aunt Amaya and gather the elves and the mages again! We have to discuss this!” Ezran stood up and gave the order to Soren and Corvus who nodded and rushed out of the throne room at once.

“It would be possible for the dragon king to entrap the elf inside a mirror.” The high mage of Bel Dur said after hearing the proposal from prince Callum.

“However,” a mage from Neolandia cut in, “in order to do that Thunder would need someone from the realm on the other side of the mirror to help him, making your idea invalid.”

“Why?” King Ezran wanted to know.

“Well, to do that sort of powerful magic, the dragon king would have to have a dragon on the other side of the mirror from which to draw that kind of power.” The mage explained.

“Why would that make my idea invalid?” Callum asked.

“Because there is no such thing as dragons in other realms,” the mage said confidently.

“An hour ago you didn't even know there were other realms and now you are trying to convince us that in those other places dragons can't exist?” Opeli raised her eyebrows.

“Alright,” the mage sighed, “let's say that a place where Aaravos was entrapped does have dragons, how exactly does this help us with the dragon prince's wing?”

“Don't you get it?” Ezran stood up. “Nobody in Xadia can help Zym and this other realm could be full of dragons. What if there is someone who could heal Zym? What if they possess just the magic we would need to help Zym fly again?”

“You do have a point, your majesty,” the high mage of Bel Dur bowed to the king, “however...”

“However, how do we know whoever lives on the other side isn't a threat to us? To the dragon prince, to our kingdoms? Who is to say that they would be willing to help us?” The mage interrupted him.

King Ezran decided to call a meeting with the dragon queen to ask her if she could confirm their speculations and wasn't all that surprised when she told him that it was the dragon king who imprisoned Aaravos in a realm called Earth where magic works differently than in Xadia and despite Aaravos being the strongest and the most ancient of elves, he wouldn't be able to use their type of magic.

After much deliberation, king Ezran has decided to take the risk and explore the realm on the other side of the mirror.

“We have to help Zym. No one in the whole Xadia could mend his wing and we have to try. We can't have the dragon prince not be able to fly. I know it's dangerous and a lot of you will think that I am making a rash decision based on my feelings and me being a kid, but this is how I decided and I am willing to take the risk for Xadia and our kingdom.” Ezran said, his brows together in determination. “We needed years of war and conflict to unite our lands together again and if we aren't willing to help and take the risks needed to move forward then we are back at the beginning and I will not allow that to happen.”

The crown guards and the king's advisors nodded, agreeing with him, while some of the mages from other kingdoms had their reservations.

In the end, it didn't matter as only a day later were they gathering a team courageous enough to walk through the mirror and seek help.

You want to do what? Amaya was signing as fast as her fingers allowed her, frowning at the idea Gren just proposed.

I need to go. I feel that I need to go. I had the feeling about the mirror and look where it brought us. Gren tried convincing her.

You did enough, Gren. Amaya pleaded.

It's been so nice to have him by her side again after being separated on so many occasions during the war and now it will happen again and Amaya wasn't sure she can let it happen.

Soren is going. I have to try. This could be my chance to prove that I am not only good at interpreting.

Nobody is saying that Gren, and you know it.

You never protested so much before, what has gotten into you? Gren wanted to frown but his expression softened instead, looking at his best friend.

I guess I got used to the fact of you being by my side again. Amaya moved her fingers slowly as if she was hesitant to admit this.

“Oh.” Gren breathed out loud before stepping closer to Amaya and pulling her into a hug.

I know. I feel the same but please give me a chance to do this. I will be back before you know it.

Gren bestowed Amaya with one of his warming smiles to which she never could stop her lips from curving too.

Alright, but promise me you'll be safe and cautious. She playfully nudged him in the ribs before hugging him again and saying goodbye.

The next day Gren, accompanied by 5 of Ezran's most trusted crown guards – including Soren – and a mage made their way down to the dungeons once again to walk through the mirror and seek help from the other side.

It took 7 mages to figure out how the mirror works and how to get the crew through it. They warned them they will have a small window to do this that's why they couldn't take more people.

Gren was standing in front of the mirror – the last one to be transported through it.

“Here we go,” he whispered to himself, took a deep breath, and without turning his head to see his best friend one more time, disappeared.

—

“And this is where I come in.” Charlie wiggled his nose, trying to hide that he was nervous as Gren told him the story for the fourth time.

“Look, I know it sounds insane.” Gren sighed. “We found a mirror who entrapped the most powerful elf that ever lived in Xadia and then we went through it, followed the roar of a dragon, found the Sanctuary, and for some reason you were mad enough to say yes to our proposal.”

“In my defense, you said that a baby dragon... No, no, let me correct myself – a storm baby dragon – which is a myth here on Earth, needed help and then you said that you are not from Earth at all but from another realm so you tricked me.” Charlie sniggered.

“Well, my hidden talent to know when someone cares for something deeply has finally come to use.” Gren smiled proudly.

“Just don't get your hopes up. I might be a dragonologist but you said that no wizard...”

“Mage.” Gren corrected him.

“That no mage could help Zym so I am not sure how much I can do.” Charlie bowed his head.

“I know, but it is admiring that you are willing to try and I believe that you will be able to do something, if nothing else advise us what we can do to help the dragon prince,” Gren said cheerfully, looking at his friend.

He and the guards have only been on Earth for a month and they are already going back – needing far less time than Gren or anybody expected them to need to figure out how the people on Earth could help Azymondias.

They were lucky enough that the late dragon king set Aaravos' prison near the Carpathians mountains which also happened to be the secret hideout of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.

They were walking for 2 days before they heard a dragon roar and followed the sound for another day before they arrived in front of what looked like an abandoned gate. The mage tore down the enchantments and without thinking twice about it, they entered.

To say that the people working in the Reserve were in shock and not really sure what they were looking at was an understatement. It doesn't happen every day that a group of people with armor and swords walk straight through the gate.

Luckily, dragonologists are very simple and open-minded people – Gren has noticed – so it was easy to explain what was going on.

The second they said that a dragon needed help, a bunch of them volunteered but Gren knew that they can only take one person back so he asked the kind people if they could stay for a few days to observe their work and then pick the one that seemed the best suited for the job.

Charlie stood out to Gren immediately, because he was one of the few that simply raised their hand to volunteer instead of being loud and jumping in the air. His calmness suited him and he intrigued Gren the second he followed him around the next morning and saw how he handled the dragons.

The fellow red-haired dragonologist reminded Gren very much of king Ezran and how he talks to animals. The second Gren decided that this business was too urgent for him to be shy and not talk to him, he approached the dragon tamer and asked him about his ability to talk to dragons.

Charlie cocked an eyebrow at him and laughed a little, thinking the commander was joking, only to compose himself a second later when he saw just how serious Gren was.

With observing his work and asking him all sorts of questions Gren deemed him perfect for the job.

He wasn't even that surprised that he got Charlie on board without any effort.

The second the sun rose the next morning and Charlie said goodbye to the dragons and his co-workers, they made their way back to the mirror.

—

Gren, you are back! Amaya was waiting next to the mirror for them to come back and hugged her friend the second he came out of it.

I'm alright. It went pretty smoothly. Gren smiled proudly.

Who is this? Amaya signed, nodding at Charlie and scanning him from head to toe.

This is Charlie Weasley, he's a dragon tamer back in the other realm and he is here to help Zym. Gren explained.

He's cute. Amaya winked at her friend.

I thought you were in a committed relationship with Janai? Gren giggled.

I meant for you. Amaya nudged him, making Gren's face as red as a strawberry.

Without replying, Gren rushed everyone out of the room, making the excuse to see Zym as fast as possible.

Amaya sent a squad to bring Zym to Katolis so that Charlie would have the time to settle in and get some rest and that he wouldn't get too overwhelmed by his surroundings.

The second he saw the dragon prince and heard his cheerful squeaks despite having an injured wing, Charlie's eyes glowed and he felt like all his dreams came true to see a dragon that not only doesn't breathe fire but can zap you with electricity.

Gren explained to him to the best of his abilities why they call Zym the dragon prince but when he bowed to the young dragon and heard the people behind him giggle, he knew he took it too far. With his cheeks turning scarlet, he cleared his throat and asked everybody to give him and Zym some space so he could do a proper check-up on him.

Amaya, Gren, Ezran, Callum, Soren, and Opeli all watched as Charlie sat down next to the dragon and started whispering something to him. It only took about a minute for Zym to trust him which – with everything Gren saw back in the Sanctuary – wasn't surprising at all.

Zym let Charlie position him in a way to have full access to the wing, while constantly murmuring something under his breath.

“So, did you manage to find out how to help him?” Ezran asked the second Charlie stood up and walked to them.

“I...uh...” Charlie stuttered not knowing how to begin.

“What? What's wrong?” Callum put his hand over his little brother's shoulder.

“I don't want to be rude so I don't know how to say it.” Charlie was embarrassed.

“Hey, we trust in your expertise so don't worry about it.” Gren encouraged Charlie to speak.

“Well, his wing is broken, you got that right but because dragons here and on Earth are magical creatures, magic can't help them much.” Charlie shook his head.

“So, there's nothing we can do?” Ezran was on the verge of tears.

“Quite the opposite, this is very good news. I thought that we would have to mend his broken bones with magic.” Charlie said in a cheerful voice to put Ezran in a better mood.

“And we won't need to use magic?” Soren got curious.

“No. Because Zym is still so young and will need years to grow fully, we would just have to immobilize his wing as much as possible until his bones mend themselves.” Charlie explained.

“It's that easy? ” Amaya signed, looking impressed and Gren interpreted.

“Yes. Zym is still growing and like with children it's easier to have a broken bone when you are young than when you're an adult. If Zym will be a good boy and obey when I put bandages on him, he should be better somewhere from around 6 months to a year if he is like the dragons we have back at home.” Charlie couldn't hide how proud he was of all the knowledge he had on dragons and healing.

“How are you going to wrap him up?” Ezran was beyond happy to know that his friend is going to be just fine.

“With magic, of course.” Charlie pulled out his wand.

“You made a mistake of trying to heal his wing with magic directly, that simply doesn't work with one of the most powerful beings in the world. In cases like this, you have to turn to the good old remedies.”

He walked back to Zym who extended his wing as much as he could for Charlie to do his magic.

Gren and his friends couldn't quite decipher what Charlie said for pieces of cloth to start flying out of his wand and bandage Zym's wing for him not to be able to move it.

“So our mission was all for nothing?” Gren bowed his head.

“On the contrary, commander,” Ezran grinned at him, “if you hadn't brought Charlie here, we would worry about Zym for years and his bones could regrow in a wrong way, and from what I can see, you wouldn't have made a friend.”

“True.” Gren gave the words of his king some thought.

“Also, I think that mister Weasley doesn't mind meeting another species of dragon.” Opeli giggled.

Gren turned around to where Charlie was trying to make Zym hold still so he could cast the spell with bandages on him a few more times and smiled to himself.

“Yeah, you're right. It was completely worth it.” He observed his friend doing his job for a few seconds more before the heat on his cheeks became too much and he turned to Amaya who winked at him with a smug expression on her face.

Gren playfully rolled his eyes and walked to Charlie.

“So, after you do this, how long is it going to last?” He wanted to know.

“Well, Zym is a very energetic and jumpy dragon and these bandages have to be tight for as long as possible so I would have to change them a few times per day.” Charlie chuckled when Zym let out a happy squeak.

“Meaning you will stay here?” Gren tried sounding normal but was bad at hiding his excitement.

“Would that be okay?” Charlie scratched the top of his head. “I mean I don't know how realms work or if this is even allowed?”

“We can ask the mages but since we stayed on Earth for a month, I think it wouldn't be a problem.”

“Well, I love traveling and would love to help Zym for as long as I can, so I wouldn't mind at all.” Charlie couldn't believe how lucky he was to embark on this amazing adventure.

“What about the people back at home? Won't they miss you?”

In the time Gren spent with Charlie, he had the opportunity to get to know him very well and it became evident early on that Charlie was a man who would do anything for his family and his loved ones.

“They will,” Charlie shrugged, “but they are used to seeing me only a few times per year and besides, it's work-related and they understand how much my job means to me.”

“In that case, I would...” Gren cleared his throat. “...I mean we would love to have you.”

“It's settled then. I am staying. I would just like to ask if there is a way for me to send a message home?”

“I am sure that can be arranged.”

Charlie and Gren turned around to the voice and saw king Ezran smiling at them.

“I would like to thank you personally, mister Weasley...”

“Please, king Ezran, call me Charlie.”

“Only if you stop calling me king,” Ezran giggled, “my friends call me Ez and I think it's safe to say that you are now a friend. Wouldn't you say so, Gren?”

“Exactly!” Gren exclaimed.

“As I was saying, I would like to thank you for doing this. You have no idea how much this means to the magic folk, to us people, and me personally.” Ezran walked to where Charlie was kneeling next to Zym and wrapped his arms around him.

Charlie let out a suppressed chuckle, not expecting a king to hug him, but then returned the embrace before standing up.

“I will need a place to stay.” Charlie giggled nervously as they were standing in front of the castle door, waiting for the guards to let them in.

“You can stay with us,” Gren said and pointed behind him.

Charlie turned around to see Amaya signing to Gren for him to interpret.

“I think you will fit in with us just nicely,” Gren translated while Amaya sent Charlie a wink.

No amount of freckles could hide the dragon tamer's burning cheeks as he couldn't believe just how nice everyone in Katolis was.

Gren and Amaya took him to the garden the second he came from the much-needed shower from all the kisses and licks Zym gave him. They were sitting on the bench and conversing – Charlie trying to take in as many signs as he could because he was determined to learn sign language.

“Charlie, I bring good news!” Prince Callum came out of nowhere. “Ez told me that you want to send a message home and asked me to talk to the mages. They can prepare the mirror for you tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Callum. That is indeed great news.” He grinned at the prince, relieved that he will have a chance to explain to his family where he has gone to.

“Now that it's official and you're staying I think we have to give you a rank.” Ezran appeared next to Callum.

“A rank?” Charlie tilted his head in confusion.

“And armor!” Callum exclaimed.

“What are you two talking about?” Gren chuckled at how excited they were and glanced at Amaya who just giggled as if she was hiding something.

Amaya, what did you do? Gren's curiosity got the better of him.

Well, since Brandon retired last year I am without my third in command so I am giving that position to Charlie. Amaya explained.

“To me?” Charlie jumped in his seat after Gren told him what was going on. “But I can't fight!”

“You are doing admirable work, worth of a title.” Gren interpreted.

“I-I don't know what to say.” Charlie was left speechless.

“Oh, I know what you could do!” Callum gasped loudly before running away from them.

Not even 5 minutes later, he came back with his sketchbook in his hands. Without saying anything he ordered Gren, Amaya, and Charlie – who were sitting on the bench – to stand up.

“We will celebrate with your official portrait,” Callum explained his actions.

The trio exchanged a look and then turned around when they heard someone clear their throat.

“Callum, you can't draw them without Charlie being in his new uniform.” Soren shook his head and handed Charlie a package.

The redhead was looking at it in awe before being rushed to the closest bathroom to try it on.

“Oh, look at you!” Soren and Ezran said together, admiring the scales on Charlie's chest.

“You look...” Gren's mouth fell open, lost for words.

Dashing. Amaya signed and winked at her best friend.

“Uhm, yeah.” Gren nodded.

Come on, Gren. Say it to him. She encouraged him.

“Dashing. Uhm, you...you look dashing.” Gren knew there was no way to hide his strawberry freckled face but seeing Charlie blush at his words too, he no longer cared.

The trio positioned themselves in front of Callum who drew them and as the crew watched him hard at work, sneaking looks at Charlie, they knew their group gained a new friend.

#tpd #the dragon prince #harry potter #charlie weasley #tpd gren #the dragon prince gren #tpd amaya #the dragon prince amaya #commander gren #general amaya

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strangeradventuresofp · 4 years ago

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second thoughts (legolas x reader)

The Fellowship of the Ring - Part 1

masterlist

warnings: none (i think)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

a/n : so after writing it for the first time, rewriting it and then rewriting it again lol the first chapter of my canon lotr fic is here. not much legolas x reader interaction in this one, more of just an introduction to the series and the readers relationships etc. i also quickly wanna thank @falcor-thee-luck-dragon for being super supportive of this ever since i even mentioned it as an idea ily! im super excited for it and i hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading i love you and i hope you have a wonderful day<3 (also i guess let me know if you want to be added to my taglist)

The journey to Rivendell was purely insufferable. Not only was it due to the time it took nor the saddle sore that you had endured, but to how the time had passed so quickly and yet so painfully slowly at the very same time. You had always loved to travel, but you did not seem to have any time at all to admire the vast amount of sights that appeared before you. In the blink of an eye they were gone, and the views became new for a brief second before they disappeared beyond what you could see. Your eyes were forced to stay focused on the road and the rider ahead of you so that the way would not be lost.

When you arrived at Rivendell, however, all of the annoyance that you had endured throughout the voyage seemed to simply melt away. There were no words for how you felt in that moment when you dropped from your horse, gaping at the infrastructure in complete awe. Always, you had associated elves with inexplicable beauty, but never would you have expected something as incredible as what lay before you. Quick to abandon your guide, you made sure to take your precious time when you strode through the decorative archways, following up the spiral staircase, marveling at everything your eyes could possibly muster.

It had hardly been long when your eyes travelled to seek out shards of a broken blade, sat on a bed of silk, a statue standing tall behind it. The concrete seemed to present it to all who passed. You dared not touch it, though a wave of tempt washed over your senses. The fragments made up Narsil, the blade of King Elendil, the one used by his son, Isildur, to cut the finger that held the One Ring of Sauron the Terrible during the War of the Last Alliance. The legend of the One Ring had faded into less than nothing over the years of its absence, but fear always struck you when you imagined the dreaded return of the Dark Lord. The longsword that lay in front of you belonged to the heir of Isildur, the King of Gondor, Aragorn Son of Arathorn. Your heart forever ached with hope that one day he would return to the White City and that the useless steward that held his place would once again be nothing more than just that.

You had scarcely noticed the figure sitting beside the balustrade until you had felt an uneasy turn in your stomach, signaling that someone was watching you. As you shifted your eyes over to the body in black, they fell upon a man with long, unkempt hair and a scruffy grown-out stubble that covered his face and neck. His arm was casually slung over the handrail, his lips drawn into a perfectly straight line and his eyes were fixed on you. The edge of his lips turned up as your eyes locked.

You blinked. “Aragorn! Forgive me, I was unaware of your presence; I would have come sooner.”

“It is good to see you, Y/N.”

“You, as well, mellon nin.” You clapped him on the shoulder. “I had planned to ride north a little while ago.”

“And I had planned to ride for the White City, until Gandalf called upon me.” Aragorn said, and your mouth turned up into a smile. Your eyes flickered up to the ceiling, once again distracted by the beautiful view.

“It is beautiful here. You are very lucky.” Aragorn gave you a small smile. “For why have I been brought here, Aragorn?”

He took a breath. “You will find out, soon enough. For now, you should rest. Your journey could have hardly been sparing.”

“Oh, alright.” You mused, now engaged with the thought of bed and sleep. He gently shook your shoulder. “Goodnight, Aragorn.”

“Goodnight.” He returned to his previous position; arm hung over the bannister as you ambled off in search of a place where you could find rest.

During your search, your feet treading across smooth slabs, and you came to a halt. There were small folk, talking to one another. They were speaking in the common tongue, and seemed half of your height, though you could not really tell from a distance. Fascinating, you thought. So far, the thought had not even crossed your mind that others might be here, besides yourself, Boromir and Aragorn and Gandalf, of course.

One of them moved toward the other, who was staring out among the balcony. The starrer turned, showed something in the palm of his hand and spoke.

“You’re right, Sam. We did what we set out to do.” He opened his hand and lowered his voice. What he said next could not be distinguished by your faint ears. “I am ready to go home.” He put his hand back into his pocket before it slithered out once again, only this time it was empty.

“And where would home be for you two?” You asked. They turned to look at you.

“The Shire, miss.” One said, the one called Sam.

“Hobbits! In Rivendell! How incredible. How curious.” Kneeling down to get a better look, Sam straightening his vest as the other kept a firm hand on his pocket. You noticed. “Do not fret, hobbit from The Shire. I am not interested in stealing from you. Or anyone else, for that matter. But perhaps a small piece of advice is, make it less obvious that you are carrying something worth taking.” The hobbit with brown, curly hair and bright blue eyes smiled sheepishly. You chuckled, standing. “Go to rest, hobbits. Get ready to go home, to The Shire.”

They bumbled off and a smile spread across your face as you continued the forage for somewhere to sleep.

~~~

The morning came quickly. The night had been comfortable, and you set out early to explore the inhabitancy that you had found yourself entering that day previous. A meeting had been called to finally reveal why your presence had been requested, and now, you sat on a chair in a circle, surrounded by some known faces and many unfamiliar ones. There were elves and dwarves grouped near each other, which would never be a good idea. One of the hobbits from the day before sat beside Gandalf. You were located between Boromir and Aragorn, two of your very good friends. Lord Elrond sat at the head of the circle. He stood once everyone had arrived.

“Strangers of distant lands, friends of old. You have summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it.” Lord Elrond began. He scanned those sat before him. “You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this one fate, this one doom.” He paused, turning to the hobbit. He brought his arm forth, inviting him.

“Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”

By Elrond’s instruction, Frodo placed a golden ring on the centered table. Boromir muttered something under his breath. Then Frodo turned, and sat back in his seat, looking rather timid. You gave him a small smile before your eyes glued to the table and the item it held upon it. It called to you, whispering things in a language that you could not understand and subconsciously you were sure you did not want to hear what it was saying to you. How did a hobbit from the Shire receive a Ring of Power? What business did he have with it?

“It is a gift.” The voice tore you from your thoughts. Your eyes caught sight of Boromir standing beside you. “A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring?” You pursed your lips in disapproval. One who thought of using any of the Rings of Power is a fool.

“Long has my father, the steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay by the blood of our people, while your lands kept safe.” He looked at you, nodding, giving you the notion that you should be encouraging him. But you couldn’t help but think that Boromir sounded rather ill. Your eyes travelled to the floor for a moment before he continued. “Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against Him.”

“Do you know nothing of the Ring?” Your brows furrowed as you spoke, unable to contain your discontent for his words any longer. “It is because of Man’s weakness that the Ring survives. It is not safe in the hands of Men.” You spat unwillingly. You hadn’t expected your words to come off so aggressive. After all, you did not want to hurt Boromir’s feelings, just make him see sense. His eye caught yours and you gave him an apologetic look.

“It does not matter; you cannot wield it. None of us can.” Aragorn said. “The one Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.”

“And what would a ranger know of this matter?”

“Boromir—”

“This is no mere ranger.” Behind Boromir someone stood. It was an elf. Some of his silky hair had been tied back into braids and a velvet cloak smothered his built body. His dark brows drew together as he spoke. “He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.” You studied him with curiosity, narrowed slightly whilst you scanned his presence. His eyes locked with yours for a brief moment before you turned them back to Boromir, who seemed to be staring at your friend in utter disbelief.

“Aragorn? This, is Isildur’s heir?”

“And heir to the throne of Gondor.” The elf finished and you looked at him as a way to avoid Boromir’s gaze. It was true. The White City that Boromir’s father currently ruled deserved to have their rightful King back. You could only hope that one day Aragorn would finally take the throne and restore the faith of Gondor once again.

“Sit down, Legolas.” Aragorn spoke in an elvish tongue. So, this was the infamous Legolas, you thought. Aragorn had spoken a lot of him to you in the past, but you had yet to meet him until this very moment.

“Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King.” Boromir took his seat beside you, but you still refused to return his eye. Instead, you and the elf shared a look.

“Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.” Gandalf confirmed.

“You have only one choice.” Lord Elrond stood. “The Ring must be destroyed.” Silence fell among the space for a moment, before a dwarf shifted off of his seat, his fingers tightening around the axe beside him.

“What are we waiting for?” He rumbled, swinging his axe over his shoulder to slice the Ring with a roar. His blade ricocheted and shattered. His back became flush to the floor, his eyes wide in shock. You gasped, sitting forward in your seat to rush to help him. But before you could, the other dwarves appeared by his sides, steadying him.

Frodo clutched his chest when the dwarf’s blade collided with the Ring, as if the axe had struck Frodo himself. Pain seemed to radiate through his body. You looked to him, concerned. Gandalf had also noticed the hobbit’s reaction to the attempted destruction of the Ring.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed Gimli, Son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade.” Lord Elrond looked around at the subjects once again. “It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this.”

“One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The great eye,” he made a circle with his hand, “is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this, it is folly.”

“Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed.” Legolas stood, once again challenging your companion. You agreed that the Ring had to be destroyed, there was no doubt about that. Venturing deep into Mordor, however, was an impossible task.

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it.” Gimli bellowed from his seat, eyes wide with hatred, fixed upon the elf.

“And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?” Boromir stood and you mirrored his actions, gently grabbing his arm, ushering him to calm down.

“I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!” The words of Gimli, son of Gloin, had all of the elves standing in protest which quickly led to the dwarves standing in hostility too. The squabbling continued despite your attempts to calm it down. You took your seat, sharing a defeated sigh with Aragorn. Gandalf stood to try to diffuse the tension.

“I will take it.” A small voice against the yelling caught your attention. Frodo had stood, standing beside the table. You pulled Aragorn’s sleeve to get his attention, your brows furrowed.

“I will take it!” The disputing seemed to die down when he raised his voice and you shook your head gently at him. “I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though… I do not know the way.”

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins. As long as it is yours to bear.” Gandalf placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Aragorn stood from beside you, marching towards the hobbit, keeling.

“If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.”

It was no question for you as you stood, kneeling beside Aragorn. “You have my knives.”

“And you have my bow.” Legolas moved towards the hobbit. The three of you moved behind Frodo. You gently rubbed his shoulder, sharing a smile with him when he looked up at you.

“And my axe.” Gimli raised his weapon in the air, joining you.

“You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, Gondor shall see it done.” Boromir gave you a smile and you were quick to return it. A yell echoed from behind, another hobbit running to join Frodo. It was Sam.

“Mister Frodo’s not goin’ anywhere without me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.” A smirk tugged at Elrond’s lips and more shouts were heard from behind. Two more hobbits joined.

“We’re comin’ too! You’ll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us.” One said, slinging his arm around Frodo’s shoulders.

“Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission. Quest. Thing.” The other chimed in, raising his eyebrows. The other turned to him in disbelief.

“Well, that rules you out, Pip.” You giggled quietly at the hobbits, the one in the yellow waistcoat turning to grin at you before Lord Elrond chuckled slightly. His eyes scanned over the group before him.

“Ten companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”

“Right! Where are we going?” The hobbit in the green coat, Pip, asked. The other, once again, stared at him in disbelief. Gandalf shook his head.

~~~

You were chatting aimlessly with Aragorn by the gates of Rivendell, where you had arrived only a few days previous. The Fellowship were getting ready to leave in the next hours, you had been preparing for days. Now, all that was needed was to get little extra items that could help along the journey.

Aragorn gave a smile to someone behind you and you turned, standing beside him. It was Legolas. You smiled at him and he returned it.

“Forgive me, my Lady, but I am unsure of your name.” He said.

“Y/N. Pleased to finally meet you, my Lord.”

“Legolas Greenleaf.” He corrected. “The pleasure is mine.”

“So, you are the infamous elf that Aragorn has mentioned to me so many times. I had begun to believe Arwen was no longer in his heart and you had taken her place.” Legolas and Aragorn chuckled at your joke. You gave Aragorn a cheeky grin before you caught sight of Boromir. “Please, excuse me.” He made his way toward you as you did the same. When you reached each other, he chuckled, shaking his head.

“You just cannot help yourself, can you?” Boromir said and you giggled. “I am proud of you. It was a brave thing to do.” You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you for coming along, too. It will be nice to have Aragorn around and, of course, the others who I am yet to know, but I am very glad for your presence.”

“And I for yours.” He chuckled, clapping you gently on the shoulder. You gave him one last tight squeeze before making your way over to the dwarf. You stood silently beside him for a little time, while he mumbled things to himself that you could make out.

“Forgive me for interrupting you, Master Dwarf. I would like to know your name; I do not recall it from the meeting.”

“You’re not interrupting me, lassie. The name is Gimli, Son of Gloin.” Gimli responded, giving you a tight-lipped smile. You returned it with a genuine smile though you worried he was wary of you.

“Pleased to meet you, Gimli, Son of Gloin. I am Y/N.” You responded kindly. Not knowing what else you could say, your feet decided to take you over to the hobbits, one of which you had already met. Sam and the other two hobbits were tending to their respective packs that they would bring on the journey. Frodo was absent.

“There’s a girl?”

“Yes, there’s a girl, Pip. Did you not see?” The other replied.

“Stood beside Strider, she was.” Sam mentioned, earning a nod from the other.

“Are you talking about me, hobbits?” You drew your arms over your chest, one of your eyebrows raised, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“N—No, miss! We were just—”

“Then, what exactly were you talking about?”

They looked between each other. “Merry was speaking about you, miss. Talkin’ of how pretty you were, he was.” Sam admitted and your heart felt warm in your chest. Pip nodded to back up Sam’s claim and a light blush dusted over Merry’s cheeks. You smiled.

“You are very sweet, Merry. If I may call you that.”

“Meriadoc Brandybuck is my full name. But call me Merry if you please.”

“Alright, Merry.” You said softly.

“What’s yours?” Pip questioned.

“Y/N.”

“That’s a nice name.” Sam gushed and you could not help but grin. Who knew that a few hobbits could be so incredibly sweet? You pondered, ruffling their hair gently before you wandered off again, sitting by yourself this time.

~~~

It had been almost a week since the Fellowship had set off from Rivendell and all had agreed that a night stop was definitely needed. You and Aragorn had agreed that you would take the night watch for you did not get much rest even at home. It was not difficult for you to still function without much sleep. Before everyone went off to bed, however, they were shoveling food down their empty stomachs. You sighed, looking at the food spread. You were not particularly hungry though you knew you were going to have to eat something. Sam finished his own food and made sure Frodo completed all of his, plating up another portion and plodding his way over to you. He sheepishly held out the bowl to you, scratching the back of his neck with his spare hand. You gave him a smile, thanking him, taking the bowl before biting into the food. Sam took a seat beside you, making sure you would eat everything.

“You should really be eatin’ everything you can, Y/N. We wouldn’t be wanting you to starve.”

A breathy laugh left your lips. “I’m alright, Sam. You needn’t worry about me.”

“Not worrying, miss. Just making sure you’re alright.”

“Thank you.” Sam shared a smile with you. “And you? Are you alright?” He gave you a nod. You continued to eat until you had finished everything in the bowl. By that time, most of the Fellowship had settled down to get some sleep but Sam was still at your side.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He yawned, treading off to settle beside his master. You wrapped your cloak further around yourself, sitting beside Aragorn. Neither of you spoke for a while, rather just enjoying the other’s presence in a comfortable silence.

You do not remember much of how you and Aragorn had met, only that he had saved your life. He was known to you as Strider back then. There was a creature that attempted to attack you. You knew nothing of combat back then. He slayed the beast and brought you back to Rivendell. Quick friends you had become. Somehow, Lord Elrond arranged for you to be taken to Gondor. It was there that you would grow up. Boromir acted as your father since you had first arrived there. He was protective of you; you were the daughter he had failed to have.

“What are you thinking of, mellon nin?” Aragorn said in a whisper. You took a breath.

“Our friendship. And how I am glad to spend time with you once again before I make my decision.”

“Have you made it?” He queried, turning his head to look at you and you shook your head at him.

“It is not simple, Aragorn. How am I supposed to make a decision that affects the rest of my life and those who will come after me?” Another sigh left your lips and you leaned into Aragorn’s side.

“I could not describe the feeling when Arwen chose what she wanted. My heart ached with many feelings.”

“Arwen has something to choose for,” you mentioned. “Who knows? Perhaps I will meet a lovely fellow, be it man, elf, dwarf, or even, hobbit, and I decide that I want to spend the rest of my life with them. That would sway my decision quite a lot. I could not imagine being shipped off to the Undying Lands while my love stays on Middle-Earth. Nor would I want to wait for them to die and then hop on a boat to live forever. I am unsure, Aragorn.”

“You need not make any decision yet, mellon.” You continued to speak with your close friend throughout the night, whilst keeping close watch on your surroundings. However, what you did not notice was that a third member of the Fellowship was far from sleep and had in fact been listening in on your conversation.

Legolas rolled over, turning away from the two of you, his head against something that acted as a quite poorly pillow. He had not the slightest idea of what you meant, only that for some reason, you could choose to make your way to the Undying Lands. But this was something that man could not do, so why were you able to choose? He did not know. But he wanted to find out. He did not know why but you intrigued him. How friendly yet quiet you were. The timid yet confident way that you carried yourself. The knives that you held on your belt. He had not seen you use them yet, luckily, but he was looking forward to. You were the first woman he had seen since Tauriel who carried weapons. It was not common for a woman to be trained in combat. He pondered where you had learned, and if you were any good at all.

“The night is long, mellon nin. You should rest.” Aragorn suggested.

You let out a chuckle. “And leave you by yourself? You will need me to protect you from any danger. I will not rest.” Aragorn smiled at your words and gave you a nod. Your eyelids became heavy throughout the night, but you refused to give in to the temptation and the snores of Gimli were sure to keep you from any sleep that you could potentially get. Fixing your cloak around yourself for warmth, your eyes continued to search the space around you. Your ears perked up so to hear any sign of movement. You watched your breath exit your mouth and disperse into the crisp air. The moon was bright and tall in the sky. Hoping nothing would come in the night, you sighed and relaxed against the tree that you were sat up against though still keeping a firm hand on your knife belt. Aragorn pulled you into his side and you smiled. Your hand tightened around your belt.

“Goodnight, Aragorn.” You whispered, and you hoped it would be.

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thevalleyisjolly · 4 years ago

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Thinking about alternate character classes lately, and I’m always thinking about A Crown of Candy at any given point in time, so without further ado, for your consideration:

Wizard!Theo, except that he’s the only wizard ever with a positive Strength modifier because that would be hilarious. Wizard!Theo, who learned more from Lazuli than anyone knew, whose magic isn’t loud or flashy but spell notes hidden in a false prayer book, a soft glow on the tips of his paws and a muttered breath as one of the princesses falls from the top of the staircase again only to land on their feet, as softly as a feather. In this world, he’s officially the royal tutor, because there are things that Caramelinda doesn’t know, but she does know what Lazuli taught him and she knows where his loyalties lie and she knows that one day, one day the spark she can see in Ruby’s eyes will need a teacher but will more importantly need a protector. And to the princesses, to the rest of the court, to the world, he’s a slightly gullible, rather awkward tutor who stands on ceremony far too much, and they laugh at him and his silly little sprinkle pet and isn’t he a bit of a large goon? Even Amethar forgets, every now and then, what he’s seen Theo do on a battlefield, to a battlefield, because as awkward as his social skills may be, Theo is committed to the part and he plays it well. In any lifetime, in any world, Theo loves his people and he’ll do what he has to for them.

Bonus subclass: School of Abjuration obviously, this squishy gummy bear has one mission, and that’s to protect people.

Rogue!Lapin, because obviously. Rogue!Lapin, who never summoned the Sugar Plum Fairy, who smiled and charmed and lied his way from the street to the service of a minor but respectable lord, and from there up and up the social strata until he is chamberlain to House Jawbreaker. Duke Jawbreaker doesn’t bother much with him, but Spearia Mentha takes one look at Lapin, standing too straight and tall, the accent of the common mountain folk still seeping out at his edges, his eyes sharp and clever even when bowing and murmuring obedience, and she thinks “Hmm.” And when her sweet baby has to go to Castle Candy as hostage, a safe and willing hostage, but a hostage nonetheless, she writes to dear sister Caramelinda and asks would it be alright if she sent someone from her own household, just to keep an eye on the boy, for her peace of mind as a mother? Liam arrives at Castle Candy, sans pig, plus one very stuffy guardian, and Lapin Cadbury looks up at the towering spires and parapets of the castle, and a small, rare smile flashes across his face for just a second.

Bonus subclass: Mastermind is really the only way to go, isn’t it?

Sorcerer!Amethar, but listen, alright, my kingdom for Sorceror!Amethar who grows up with magic as rage flowing through his veins, whose wrath manifests not as bursts of concentrated battle fury, but in wild surges of strange and powerful magic. There is magic in the blood and bones of House Rocks, an old and willful magic. His sisters protected him, as much as they could, but still, there are whispers, more so once the young prince becomes the grieving king with the eyes of the world on him. People mutter about the witch king of Candia, they say that he’s levelled armies with his sorcery, that he’s bewitched the Emperor Gustavo into friendship, that he’s dangerous and brings only death and destruction. And it hurts, it does, not because he cares what other people think, but because they aren’t all wrong. Look at him, the Unfallen, alive when so many have died. It hurts that he has so much power singing in his blood, and he’s the one who’s powerless, who can’t be the protector, who must be the protected. Why him? Why not strong Rococoa, or brilliant Lazuli, or kind Citrina, or cunning Sapphria? Why is he alive and not them, when he is the wildcard, the dangerous one, the last person who should be king?

Bonus subclass: I mean, it’s gotta be Wild Magic, no doubt about it.

Druid!Cumulous is another story that writes itself. Druid!Cumulous still swears the same vows of dedication and protection to Candia’s magic, Candia’s secrets, and so Candia itself rises to acknowledge that. It isn’t the red glow of the Hungry One that surrounds him when he fights, but the bright pink of the frosting sprites, the warm chocolate of the fudge brownies, the brilliant lemon-yellow of the river dragon’s scales, the slightest tint of sugar plum purple. All spirits are fickle and unpredictable and dangerous, but they can recognize faith and they can appreciate service and they can reward what is freely given. The Sugar Plum Fairy considers this one for a while. She has no little pet bunny in this world, no servant to demand wishes from. But fairies are jealous, too jealous. Hearts and minds and souls, of course they should be hers, wholly hers, why wouldn’t they be, and for all the vastness of her realm, all her secrets and all her magic, there is something more to Candia than what is just in her. So she lets this one be, and lays her trap for another prize, a bigger prize…

Bonus subclass: You could honestly make a good argument for Circle of the Shepherd or Circle of the Land, although Circle of the Moon is pretty great for more combat-focused war guys druids.

Warlock!Saccharina’s life is still a tragedy, because magic was only the most obvious thing that the nuns tried to beat out of her. Warlock!Saccharina is not born with lightning in her fingers and a storm in her heart, but she is born with a strength and a will that the nuns despise. In this world, Saccharina looks in the window, in the mirror, and she still sees a blue woman, a kind woman with a kind face, reaching out to her, comforting her when the nuns mistreat her, telling her wondrous stories and magical secrets. In this world, the Rocks sisters, held in a false afterlife, stage a jailbreak. Rococoa raises herself back to the living, cold with vengeance against the man who murdered her. Citrina hitches up her skirts and hikes off to Vegetania, prepared to visit as many dreams and instigate as many supernatural miracles as she needs in order to reform the Church. Sapphria laughs and winks and goes off to do something mysterious and terribly complex and probably very clever. And Lazuli? Lazuli goes to find her eldest niece, and to help her do something about the frankly terrible situation she’s in. She is no spirit of the dead that a small exorcism by a provincial abbess can banish, but something new, something more. And when Saccharina finally drowns the monastery, a grim smile on her face, it is with eyes and fingers that glow a brilliant, sharp blue.

Bonus subclass: Either Great Old One or Celestial, depending on how Lazuli fights her way back to the waking world. Reaching out to the mortal world from the afterlife? Probably Celestial. Something strange and mysterious that’s never happened before in all of creation, and isn’t entirely comprehensible even to her? Great Old One.

Barbarian!Jet grows up with so much rage inside her, but a rage for others, a fire for others. It’s a rage that goes bone-deep, born of so much love and fear, because Jet Rocks may be sheltered and immature and naive, but one thing she does know, one of the earliest things she knows, is that the world is dangerous for people like Ruby, people like Pops, the world does not like people like Ruby and Pops, and as young as she is, she’s already heard how people whisper and seen how they point at Pops when his back is turned. And if they found out about Ruby- It’s a different rage that drives Barbarian!Jet, not a mindless battle frenzy, but love sharpened to the keenest focus, to protect, to guard. In this world, and in every world, Jet Rocks loves her sister above all else, and will do anything to make sure she is safe. Her parents worry, of course. Caramelinda looks into her daughter’s eyes, sees hard steel and the heart of sacrifice, and she weeps when she looks into the mirror and sees the same, this is not the life she wanted for her. Amethar understands. He knows. He knew the minute his daughters were placed into his arms for the first time, and the instinct to protect something so precious, precious beyond measure. He just didn’t want his daughter to understand as well, not so soon, not so young.

Bonus subclass: Path of the Ancestral Guardian, I think, because Jet’s rage is rooted in and for her family. Also, imagine the confusion and the angst the first time Jet summons past ancestors to fight with her in battle, and none of them include her aunts because they’re too busy raising hell elsewhere.

Bard!Ruby tumbles out of the cradle with a cheerful tongue and a clever mind, and Amethar has to stop himself from calling after Sapphria, because Ruby is so much like her, so nimble on her feet, so clever with her words. But it’s Caramelinda that sees it first, how Ruby’s leaps and cartwheels hang just a little too long in the air, how Jet brightens and sharpens too fast after just a word from her. And it’s Theo, of course it’s Theo, who catches Ruby and Jet trying to rob the cookie jar with a spectral, definitely magic, definitely arcane hand floating in the air, where did she even learn that, he doesn’t have that spell, this is bad, this is very, very bad. Ruby’s more careful after that, after Mom’s lecture about how dangerous it is, and Pops just standing there, looking stern, nodding along to everything that Mom’s saying, not saying a word to the contrary. Her magic is just for Jet now, her and Jet and nobody else, and she does a very good job of pretending she doesn’t know anything else, pretending like she doesn’t feel the thrum inside of her, pretending like something isn’t singing in her blood with every leap and twirl and handstand.

Bonus subclass: College of Valour? It gets that combat flavouring without being as specific as College of Swords, but I’m open to suggestions.

Warlock!Liam, and he is so young, so lonely, roaming the forests around Castle Manylicks, when he finds her or maybe she finds him. Just a sweet little fairy who knows where to find the best seeds, the ones that have a little bit of magic in them, and here’s a lonely little boy who’s so interested in what she can show him! And then of course, this isn’t just any lonely little boy, this is the son of Duke Jawbreaker, someone royal, someone important. I’ll be your friend, she says, coy and sweet, a nice friend, not like your brothers. I know lots of things, secret things, magic things, that I can show you. Come with me, do you want to see something really neat? Her magic is almost golden, almost Bulbian, with the slightest whiff of something rich and sticky and sweet and purple, and Liam’s only glad that he has a friend now, someone who’s nice to him, who’s interested in the same things, who remembers his name and doesn’t pick on him because he likes seeds more than swords. Lonely children don’t need to be threatened or coerced, lonely children don’t need deals with the devil. Lonely children just need a kind voice and warm approval and someone to show them affection, and the Sugar Plum Fairy knows just how to work with that.

Bonus subclass: Gonna diverge from Lapin here and go with Archfey as the warlock/patron relationship, because Liam isn’t in a position where he has to pretend that his powers come from the Bulb, so the SPF can lean into her feyness more.

#dimension 20 #a crown of candy #long post #i realize this is a much more magic-heavy party so all the intrigue and secrets are cranked up to 1000 in this AU #a crown of candy spoilers

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fuckallthegood0nesweretaken · 3 years ago

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Echuio CH. One

Movie - Unexpected Adventure

Title: The Meeting

Words: 2057

Warnings: Memory Loss

Translations: Vaen - Beautiful

A/N: This is chapter one of my Fili X Reader series! It will follow the same plot as the Hobbit movies/book but with a twist. Echuio means awaken in Sindarin so do with that information what you will. Enjoy!

Next Chapter

Echuio Masterlist

Fili Durin Masterlist

Book Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

Waking up on a dirt road with someone staring at you intently wasn’t the best way to go about it. Your eyes went wide and you were frozen in fear. A whimper escaped your lips and the man backed away slightly.

“Who are you? Where am I?” Fear was evident in your voice and the man took notice of it right away.

“My name is Gandalf. You’re in the woods just outside of the Shire.”

“Shire? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Where are you from, Miss-?” Gandalf’s voice was kind and even though you were scared, you just knew that you could trust him.

“My name’s [y/n],” you said. “And I can’t remember where I’m from.” You stood up before taking a step back.

“You don’t remember?”

“N-No.” You shook your head and Gandalf tilted his head slightly. You had a feeling he knew something about you but before you could ask, he said something.

“You’re about as tall as a Hobbit, Miss [y/n]. But you are not one.”

“I’m not a Hobbit. I don’t even know what a Hobbit is!” You were starting to panic and Gandalf furrowed his brows.

“Do not worry. I will try to help you get your memories back,” Gandalf said.

“You’ll help me?” You asked, tears on the brim of falling down your cheeks.

“I can try.” Gandalf looked at you, lips muttering something in a language you didn’t recognize, before looking at the horizon. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

You followed him, your legs trying to keep up.

“I believe you were brought here for a reason. Something is just about to start and I think you are supposed to be a part of it.”

---

You followed Gandalf and he told you about the quest he was endorsing. He could tell that you didn’t want to go on the adventure, but you didn’t say anything out loud.

Soon, he had introduced you to about half of the Dwarves that were going to conquer Erebor. Despite your worries, you had made fast friends with Bofur, the two of you talking all the way back to the Shire.

Gandalf had led the group to the top of a hill and Bofur rang the doorbell to the home built into the hill-face. You could hear someone yelling on the inside and when the owner of the voice opened the door, all of the Dwarves fell into a heap inside the house. You stifled a laugh as the Dwarves all groaned and looked up to see who you thought must be Bilbo.

“Hello,” you said, giving him a small wave. He glanced at you before locking eyes with Gandalf.

“Gandalf,” he said tiredly.

The Dwarves let themselves in after getting up from the ground and started raiding the poor Hobbit’s pantry. Gandalf told you that Bilbo was a Hobbit and you weren’t pleased to find out that he was taller than you. You may be as big as a Hobbit, but they weren’t big to begin with.

As the Dwarves wreaked havoc, you stood off to the side, observing everything. One by one, the Dwarves took food out of the pantry and put it on the table in the dining room. After a minute, a Dwarf you hadn’t met yet came up to you.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. He gave you a smile and bowed slightly. “I’m Fili.”

“I’m [y/n].” Your eyes met his blue ones and you could feel your cheeks heating up.

“Supper’s ready. Would you like to join us?”

“S-Sure,” you said. He held out his hand and you took it.

Fili led you to the table and took a chair out, letting you sit down and pushed your chair up to the table when you were settled.

“Thank you.”

Fili answered you with a wink and you looked down at your lap before reaching for some food. Bofur was on your left, Fili on your right. All throughout dinner, you found yourself laughing and joking. You did feel bad for Bilbo, your eyes widening and pulse quickening when the Dwarves sung their song and did all of the dishes for him. It was only when a booming knock sounded on the door did the giddiness fade away.

“He is here,” Gandalf said. The two of you made eye contact and you swallowed harshly.

Gandalf went to open the door but you couldn’t see anything, all of the Dwarves blocking your view. You could hear Thorin speak and you could tell that everyone has great respect for him. Because you couldn’t see him, you decided to get him some food. Soon enough, everyone was back in the dining room and you saw Thorin for the first time.

“I-I thought you might be hungry,” you said. “There wasn’t much left but I found some soup for you.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said. He sat down and you noticed there was nowhere to sit and Kili waved you over.

“Over here,” he said. “You can sit with me.”

“But there’s no chair.” Confusion laced your voice and Kili just smirked and patted his lap.

“Don’t listen to him, vaen,” Fili said from beside you. “Take my chair. I’ll go find another.”

You shook your head, about to speak when Thorin beat you to it. They started talking about the quest Gandalf had told you about. Closing your mouth, you leaned against the wall and listened. Then you heard them mention a dragon.

“Wait, what’s this about a dragon?” You turned to Gandalf. “You said nothing about dragons!”

“I didn’t catch your name,” Thorin said.

“This is [y/n]. I’d like for her to join us on the quest,” Gandalf said. Murmurs spread through the Dwarves and Thorin scoffed lightly.

“What would another Hobbit bring to the Company?” Thorin asked.

“I’m not a Hobbit, just as tall as one apparently,” you said. Your hands were on your hips and you glared at Thorin.

“And I’m an Elf,” Dwalin snorted.

“She’s telling the truth.” Everyone looked at Gandalf, disbelief on their faces.

“If it helps, I’ve never seen her before. She also doesn’t have Hobbit feet,” Bilbo said. You lifted up your leg, showing them your shoe-covered feet.

“Miss [y/n] is here for a reason,” Gandalf said. “I believe that the timing of her coming here was no coincidence and she is supposed to join us on our journey. It will help you and will help her.”

“Help her with what?” Balin asked.

“I’ve don’t have many memories,” you said. “I can only remember simple things.”

“And what can Miss [y/n] offer the Company if she has no memories?” Thorin asked. Everyone turned their eyes towards you and you started fiddling with your fingers.

“I-I know how to heal,” you said. “I remember that I’m very good at it.”

“Do you know how to use any weapons?”

“I know how to shoot a bow. I think,” you said, chewing on the inside of your lip. Thorin stared intently at you before looking at Balin.

“Draw up a contract for Miss [y/n],” Thorin said.

Balin nodded and got to work. While he did that, the conversation went on. You listened as they talked and argued, flinching back when everyone started yelling. Thorin shouted something in Dwarvish and everyone went silent immediately.

“If we have read these signs, others would have read them too,” Thorin said. “Rumors have been spread. Smaug hasn’t been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, and weighing the risk. The vast wealth of our people may be lying unprotected. Will we sit back while others take what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!”

All of the Dwarves started cheering except for Balin.

“You forget that the front gate is sealed,” Balin said. “There is no way into the mountain.”

“My dear Balin, that is not entirely true.” Gandalf twirled a key and you saw surprise light up Thorin’s face.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was given to me by your father for safekeeping. By Thrain. It is yours now.”

The Dwarves were silent, all of them looking at the key with hope on their faces.

“If there’s a key there has to be a door,” you said quietly.

“Aye,” Fili said.

“You’re right. These runes here speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls,” Gandalf said, pointing to the map.

“There’s another way in,” Kili breathed.

“Well, if we can find it. Dwarf doors are invisible when closed.” Gandalf sighed. “The answer is somewhere on this map, but I do not have the skill to find it. It’s hidden very well. However, there are others in Middle-Earth who can.”

Gandalf looked around the room and made eye contact with everyone.

“The task I have in mind requires a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage. If we are careful and clever, I believe it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori said.

“A good one too,” Bilbo said. “An expert I’d imagine.”

“And are you?” Balin asked.

“Am I what?”

“He said he is!” Oin started cheering and some of the Dwarves chuckled.

“Me? Oh no, no, no. I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life, thank you.” Bilbo had an incredulous look on his face.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material,” Balin said. Bilbo nodded his head and you crossed your arms.

“Aye, the wild’s no place for gentle folk who can neither fight or fend for themselves,” Dwalin said. He glanced at both you and Bilbo as he spoke and you narrowed your eyes at him.

All of the Dwarves started talking at once and when Gandalf had had enough of it, he rose to his full height. It was intimidating, shutting the Dwarves up almost immediately and making your face scrunch slightly.

“Enough!” Gandalf’s voice boomed. “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, than a burglar he is.”

The powerful aura went away and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Hobbit’s are remarkably light on their feet and can pass unseen by most, if they so choose,” Gandalf said, his voice normal again. “And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, Hobbit is all but unknown to him. That gives us a distinct advantage.”

After a moment, Thorin nodded and looked at Balin.

“Give him a contract,” Thorin said. Balin stood up, one contract in each hand.

“This one’s for Miss [y/n] and this one’s for Mr. Baggins.”

He handed you a contract and you looked it over silently. You could hear talking, but you were so focused on reading, you only looked up when you heard a thud. Bilbo had fainted and fallen to the floor. You put down the contract and went quickly over to Bilbo.

“Did he hit his head?” You asked.

“I don’t think so,” Bofur answered.

“That’s good. What caused him to faint?”

“The thought of incineration.” You just rolled your eyes, checking on Bilbo’s pulse. When he started to wake up, you pulled back and smiled at him.

“How’s your head feeling?” You asked Bilbo. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

“No. I-I think I just need to sit quietly for a moment.” Bilbo stood up and walked to a different room. That’s when Thorin approached you.

“You’ve heard of our plans and what can happen if things go wrong. Are you still willing to come with us?” Thorin asked you.

“I’m not one to believe in fate and destiny, but I do think that my being here isn’t a coincidence. I’ll help you get your home back.” You looked up at him and gave him a smile.

“Why?”

“Everyone deserves a home, Thorin. I’ll do what I can to help,” you said with a shrug.

“I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“That’s alright. I wouldn’t expect you to. You’ve just met me and you have others to think of first.” With that, you tilted your head and walked away.

Thorin watched you go, a confused look on his face. There was something about you that seemed so familiar and he couldn’t place it. Shaking his head, Thorin turned his attention elsewhere. It wouldn’t do to dwell on things that hurt his head.

#Echuio #fili x reader #reader insert #x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #Fili Durin #The Hobbit

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the-bard-followed-the-witcher · 5 years ago

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Okay but like:

Has anyone ever thought of Jaskier as somewhat of a monster magnet (trouble always finds him, don’t deny it) as a positive thing?

Cause i see a Jaskier running around in the woods as a small child, his voice raised in songs he is too young to know, tripping and then falling over a branch. He starts crying but not for long because soon a Warg finds him. And he freezes. A frucking Warg, of course of all things. And while Wargs are surely not the scariest of creatures, Jaskier is young and they are gogantic after all. He doesn’t want to die. And he doesn’t. Because the warg sniffs his body that is still lying there on the floor whimpering, and it gives him a little nudge with its nose. It’s almost...encouraging. And soon the nudge becomes harder until eventually Jaskier is forced to sit up at least. His body scrapped and bruised but he can’t even look at himself properly before he feels the wet tongue of a Warg lick over his face. It takes him some time to relax but eventually he does. And when you are relaxed, a wolfs tongue tickles. So Jaskier giggles as he is licked clean, scraches and bruises stop hurting, the only thing he notices is the ticklish tongue and the soft purr coming from the creature in front of him. Now imagine the surpirse his parents felt when they saw their son come out of the woods later that night, a wolf, no a Warg! Close to his side. And Jaskier, Jaskier grinned, he finally found a new puppy to keep.

I see a teen Jaskier who has just about figured out that some fun things in life require a second (or multiple people) to join him. He flirts with everyone and he sleeps with everyone. It’s fun, he is young, and damn he does know how to get what he wants. Of course if you flirt with as many people as he has, you are bound to run into a monster posing as human. The first time, it’s a siren and Jaskier adores her. When he started flirting it was out of curiousity of her beauty but as soon as she had started talking he fell in love with her voice. As aspiring bard it wasn’t too hard for him to realize that such a voice was not human. He flirted with her anyway, even shared a bed that night and in the morning when she told him what she was, he didn’t blink an eye, just kissed her hand and asked her to help him get his human voice somewhat close to her unimaginably beautiful one. He didn’t know sirens could blush. It’s not the first but it’s certainly not the last that Jaskier attracts a monster during his flirts, but who is he to judge? Monsters can be just as beautiful as humans, and he surely won’t limit his playground.

When he really starts travelling as bard it seems to happen even more often than before. Maybe it’s his voice (the siren did a good job teaching him) or maybe it’s just his luck. In nearly every forest, every village there is something not quite human, not quite normal around him. And you see, if you have been surrounded by monsters all your life (trouble always seemed to find him) you start spotting them rather easily. He travels through the woods and he sees a Beann‘shie run past him, a harpy flying calmly above the tree tops. He travels through cities and sees a Fleder in an alley behind an inn, a ghost in the next one over. He travels to court and finds not all royals fully human. He keeps quiet though. Few are friendly, most are dangerous but if you know what to look for, you can get by good enough. He knows the warning, he has experienced some dangers himself. So Jaskier travels the world, fully aware that wherever he goes trouble awaits, or maybe he brings the trouble himself? He was never quite sure about that.

I see a Jaskier who meets Geralt of Rivia and is enchanted. Not because Geralt is mysterious and big and bulky, no, Jaskier is enchated because the Geralt outside of the legends looks so much more human. More human than any other supposed monster he has ever encountered. Of course he noticed him the moment Geralt set foot in the tavern. And you see after a lifetime of monsters you get an instinct on telling which ones are dangerous. Geralt isn’t, not for Jaskier. And so it happens that he starts following the Witcher, trying his best with everyday to figure out how a monster could look so human. He figures pretty soon, it’s easy, some monsters are more human then a human himself.

I see a Jaskier who after seeing Geralt try to safe every monster he comes across, admires the strength of his partner and yet still grieves the death he brings. And every time Geralt has to kill yet another Monster that somehow found Jaskier, Jaskier waits for him to leave, turn around, get wood, it doesn’t matter, he just needs to be alone with the creatures for whose death he is responsible. As soon as Geralt is out of Witcher-earshot, Jaskier does this thing (he did it the first time when his wolf died). He presses his hand to the body, only slightly, he doesn’t want it to bruise, and then he leans down and whispers an apology for each creature he saw killed. Because you see, after a lifetime of monsters it’s hard to see them as just that: monsters. Monsters feel pain too, he knows that.

I see a Jaskier who lets Geralts words about destiny get to him, let’s them flourish in his heart because you see, Geralt is right in a way. Trouble always did find its way to Jaskier and maybe he really was cursed to never have a quiet day and maybe he deserved exactly this, and maybe Geralt really was better off without him. Because after a lifetime of seeing creatures that are supposed to be monsters you quickly realize humans are the real monsters to fear.

And i see a Jaskier who at one point during his travel down a mountain too high finds a baby dragon, a creature so tiny it fits in his pant pocket and falls undyingly in love with it. He doesn’t know how it got there so he waits. He needs to see if there is someone taking care of this little thing, and he waits knowing that every second of waiting hightens his chance of running into Geralt. He doesn’t care. This tiny little baby needs help. He warms it with a fire that evening and still the tiny tiny dragon cuddles up to him as if seeking more warmth. He stays awake till morning, no parent appears. And the baby dragon? It has fallen asleep in his lute already, it’s not like he can just leave his lute or wake the small thing. So he waits. And he feels the nudge of a small snout wake him a couple hours later. Such a small snout. God how could anyone leave a creature this cute behind? But when he sees the whitened left eye the dragon beared, he knew exactly why they had been left behind, both of them. Guess we are all flawed in some way.

I see a Jaskier who continues his travels, continues his songs with a new companion. And monsters still find him, both human and beast, but he doesn’t mind it anymore. He has learned enough from a witcher to defend himself and his baby, and he has enough of a bards charm to trick the rest. They get by, together. And Jaskier lets Trouble (it was always somehow drawn to him) sleep in his pocket, in his lute and as he grows around his neck and curled in his lap. He shares a fire with him and soon the stables too. And monsters really don’t seem dangerous anymore.

You see, the folk talk about a white haired witcher and his story flashes them all, keeps them busy until one day they can’t look away from the second miracle anymore. It flies across the sky, sometimes you can catch a glimpse of a shadow flying above, the sound of a human scream and a monsters roar in unison. It lands with thuds so heavy they shake the ground only to be followed by the most beautiful melodies and the most beautiful sounds. And it confuses the people, scares them even, but they know how to deal. And soon the Witcher is replaced and new songs are written, new legends told this time of a bard and a dragon. The reject of society and the half blind creature. It’s not a simple tale but it’s one that is a lot of fun for Jaskier to tell, it’s the one he enjoys singing about the most. And Trouble appreciates his playing, always humming when Jaskier plays his lute or sings his songs, always falling asleep to a lullaby. And they are never cold again.

Geralt was shocked when he first learned of the myth to say the least. Jaskier didn’t even care if he knew.

And Jaskier still has a life filled with monsters but you see,

Trouble follows Jaskier and somehow this time he doesn’t mind at all.

#jaskier the bard #the witcher series #the bard and the witcher #the witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #dandelion #jaskier and a dragon is like my favorite idea im sorry #i know this is weird #but trouble is just too cute in my head #i might write more about them #like damn it #geralt/jaskier #Trouble the dragon #Trouble

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thecagedsong · 3 years ago

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Forgotten Light: Chapter 6: Enchantress

A/N: Hey everyone. Going to start uploading at night so I can focus better during the day. Enjoy this short bit. Kendra isn’t going to get a lot of action at this point, so it’s training for her.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 6: Enchantress

The following morning, Kendra had Ronodin’s bag of gifts organized on the craft table in the library. Ronodin had added little labels, listing the general source and possible magic properties of each item. The ingredients were kind of icky. Fabric that was various blends of cotton, wool, hair of zombie, hair of Litche, milkweed, nettles, and deathknell spider silk, was in the first section. Wood blocks were in the second section, varieties of elder, damnation redwood, wood from the heart of hamadryad trees, blinding pine, and some from the Dedona forest of insanity. Paint mixtures in the third section, they came with various combinations of fairy blood, unicorn blood, phantom tears, poison, and reverent spit.

She decided that the wood blocks were the least gross and least possible to screw up. Reading more into their descriptions, she settled on balsa wood from the heart of a hamadryad tree. Hamadryads were nature spirits, connected to specific trees. It seemed a vulnerable wood that would help her craft an amulet for protection.

Without her memories, she felt vulnerable. Ronodin had given her an idea of who she was, but that wasn’t the same as being the person he knew. It wasn’t even the same as wanting to be that person, even though old Kendra sounded pretty cool.

Ronodin had assured her that while her family had disapproved, being an enchantress was her passion. The art of crafting magical items was almost entirely lost, but Kendra was one of the few that could bring it back. Her family had been worried about an influx of magical items falling into the wrong hands though, destroying their monopoly on the magical market. Luckily Ronodin had managed to secure most the replacements for the stuff she had forgotten to take with her.

She and Ronodin had read the how-to chapters together, and he specified which parts she was able to skip due to her status as fairy kind. She didn’t need pentagrams or runes, for example, but she did need to imbue the item with intent.

An amulet seemed like a good start. They were one of easiest since they were meant to be worn, and didn’t have a functionalty/magic property duality to worry about. She wanted a protective amulet, and browsing through her guidebook’s symbol glossary, Kendra settled on one that would make her enemies feel weak and distracted the closer they got to her.

Kendra carefully selected the knives she would need, and sketched out her design. A chain broken in six different places, at the points of a star, would go around the edges, and it would encircle a blob human. Circle for a head, hunched forward, the back at a diagonal, knees bent, hands on knees.

The second half of how to make the amulet was to ‘work the feelings into the material that makes the effect desirous’. Ronodin had explained that part too. She would take a hold of a little part of her magic, not all of it, but a little bit of the flame inside her, and feed it with emotion, bringing out that specific aspect of her magic, metaphysically drawing it into her hand and her tool. Then she would focus on separating that magic from herself, pushing it into an object with every touch, before cutting it off. Negative emotions worked best, because those lasted much longer than positive emotions, were easier to work, and attached themselves more readily to physical objects.

She took fear: fear of seeing people blasted into ash, fear of being stolen away in the night, fear of jump scares, fear of the dark she sometimes felt, pressing in around her. She took annoyance: annoyance with Ronodin’s stupid games, of being stuck underground, or losing her memories. And she took dismissiveness: it wouldn’t hurt them, just make them weak enough that she could escape or disarm them. They were in her way and needed to remove themselves, like Ronodin’s uncomfortable flirting, like the block on her memory, and like that loud dragon that kept yelling at everyone.

With each emotion, she physically made a pinching motion near her heart, and pulled out a thread of her magic and added it to the wood she carved through her knife. Technically she didn’t have to do the physical motion, the magic followed her will not her body, but it helped her focus. How good she was at this part was debatable, because while she should have been focusing on the emotions and pressing the magic into the wood, she kept having to refer back to her woodcarving guide for advice on what to do next.

Kendra cut herself twice, small knicks that stopped bleeding by the time she got the bandages out. She tried to wipe her blood off, but probably didn’t get everything. Hopefully her blood wouldn’t spoil the enchantment. Sanding until smooth felt very satisfying, letting her muscles get used in ways they hadn’t since trapping herself here. The finished product was pretty round (she could fit it into the top of her water glass), a little smaller than her palm, but good for her first try after forgetting everything.

She was a little surprised she wasn’t tired yet. One of the perks of living on your own while hiding out from your family was no one was around to tell you when to go to bed. Still, she didn’t want to throw her sleep schedule off too much, and so one paint job before bed. Instead of trying to paint in the details, she would make it all one color. When she got better at painting, maybe she could add in the details of the chain and the figure, and adding the effects of the paint would hopefully make up for what she couldn’t do in carving.

Looking over her selection of paints, which Ronodin promised were fairly sourced, she tried to feel out her options. When imagining the effect she wanted to have, it involved people turning pale, like the moment you stand up too fast, and you feel weak and can’t move.

Looking over the whites, she had three options: a silvery one of primer mixed with unicorn blood, a creamier one with magic goat milk and naiad tears, and a standard white that used Hemlock and Lethe water. She didn’t want the creamy color, and Lethe water was all about forgetting important things, which she had enough of to last a lifetime, so Kendra selected the paint with unicorn blood.

It was so fascinating what contained magical properties. Tears, blood, milk, poison, hair, it was said something about sacrifice and DNA and where magic comes from that was absolutely fascinating. She was starting to understand why she had been obsessed with it before.

Painting didn’t take nearly as much concentration as carving, and from the first dip of the paintbrush she focused on weakening those who wished her ill. Whatever she had done, the person occupying this body couldn’t be responsible for the past. Imagining her magic travelling from insider herself, down her arm, into the paintbrush, it smeared and soaked into the amulet. Harm her body or harm her spirit, and the enemy would start falling apart before they could touch her. Celebrant, the dwarf that took her memories, they would fall to the ground before they got close to her, too weak to do anything but watch her escape.

When she felt good about the paint coating, she went to the library and hung it over her fire to dry. Tired after that little bit of crafting, she picked up the book she had been reading before to take it with her to bed.

Kendra settled into bed and tried to find the page she was on before Ronodin made her drop it. She had been ending a page, and…the next page had been torn out. She hadn’t noticed it on her first read through. She had liked this book! And the gray areas those pages talked about were exactly what Ronodin had said she was interested in that her family wasn’t. It would have been nice to learn about it from another source.

The next page picked up on what was known about the Fair Folk, the Forgotten Crown, because while they were equal to the others in power technically their neutrality limited them so much as to keep anyone from caring about them. In modern times, people only ever referred to the Five Crowns, or the Five Thrones, but they shouldn’t discount the Fair Folk…

#Forgotten Light #Fablehaven/dragonwatch #Kendra Sorenson

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elizabethemerald · 4 years ago

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Best role in a fantasy world? Beloved Shopkeeper

Ok, the best job in a fantasy land has got to be beloved shopkeeper for an adventuring party. Like, imagine: you’ve owned this small enchanting shop/ potion shop for years. It was your dream to run just such a shop ever since you were a little girl.

One day, a new group of “Adventurers” wander in. You’ve seen adventurers, mercenaries, local toughs of all kinds come in through your doors claiming to be hot stuff. They want your finest healing potions and to peruse your enchanted items. Turns out they aren’t as flush as they think they are and have to beg for a discount, even then they have to scrap together every copper to afford it.

You roll your eyes internally, but give them a small discount. Sometimes its nice to help a new adventuring group get on their feet. A little kindness early on could help shape their whole journey.

And you can definitely tell they have only just gotten together. Half of them look like, up until very recently, they were homeless and they all wear their trust issues like a uniform. Still they have some coin and you’re more than happy to take it from them, expecting to never see them again.

Except they come back. The next time they come through your door there is the jingle of gold in the coin pouches. They come to you and immediately purchase some of the enchanted goods they couldn’t get before, restock their potions and head for the road again.

And they keep coming back. They buy out your stock of healing potions every time they come through town. They commission spells or scrolls. They refill their magical components at your store even though they have probably come across cheaper options during their travels.

Each time they come to see you, you can tell they are about to head off another grand adventure. They come in request a helm of water breathing. The next time they trade the helm for your entire stock of potions of fire resistance. They still smell like smoke and ash the next time they drop by ready to sell a dragon’s horn, and a large handful of red dragon scales.

As they grow as adventurers they grow to become your close friends. You keep an ear to the ground for any gossip they might be interested in the next time they come in. They keep an eye out for interesting potion components or enchanted items they don’t need that you could sell.

One time, they dash in, grab a single potion of strength and throw some coin on the counter and run out before you can even greet them. When you count the coin you find its short the cost of the potion. You dismiss the difference as a best friend’s discount. However you are surprised when they return the next day to pay the difference plus more.

“We can’t be shorting our favorite shop keep!” They say.

You smile as they leave. This is the first group of adventurers who had done that. It warms your heart.

Another time they come in and you’re tired but you try and put on a good face. The quiet one in the back notices and asks you whats wrong. Eventually you tell her that a local criminal element is threatening you. They want to extort protection payments, or they’ll destroy your work. You tell your friends that you fear they are being funded by one of your rival enchanters.

She asks you some pointed questions, this may be the longest conversation you’ve had with her. Normally she’s completely silent when she visits your shop. The party leaves with an oddly serious air. You feel better for having a chance to complain about the threats. Hopefully the Watch will catch the culprits soon.

The next week the miscreants are in chains, brought before the law master. Your competitor has fled town after rumors spread of his involvement with the slave trade. Your favorite adventurers come in shortly after. The quiet one assures you that you will not be bothered like that again.

Once they leave on their next adventure, you close the shop early and sit against the closed doors sweat pouring from your brow. You hadn’t asked them to go after the criminals, much less to expose your competitor. They took the chance themselves because of your close friendship.

As time goes by, you watch them grow. They are quickly out growing what you are capable of making them. Yet they continue to shop with you, mostly just to enjoy your company it seems. Now they are selling back to you items they had to scrape together every coin for when they first bought it. The rings of water walking are being traded out for rings of protection, or even more powerful items that they are digging out of dragon hoards or lich dens.

Eventually powerful folk begin entering your shop with the names of your friends on their lips. Some are interested in purchasing their own enchanted items or potions, mentioning the party’s recommendation. Others are interested in business arrangements, saying your friends thought you would work well together. And still others...come with worse offers.

You stare at the heaping pile of gold and platinum. Create an item with a hidden curse. That will trip your friends in a dire moment, leave them open to attack when they most need their strength. You have your morals. As a shopkeeper, as an enchanter, and most importantly as a friend. You proudly cross your arms and turn down their offer, a smirk on your face, this fool thinking your loyalty can be bought like this.

The next offer is more serious. Create the cursed object, or die, burning in your own shop. You sweat. You are many things, skilled in many ways, but you haven’t faced death like your friends are. You’re terrified. You try to rebuff this person, who wants you to hurt your friends, and they make you regret it.

You create the cursed piece. When your friends return you try and dissuade them from buying it by pricing it exorbitantly. You know they won’t be able to resist it, you know them so well, the enchanted item is exactly up their alley. You however didn’t expect them to put down the money gladly, laughing and cheering after their successful raid on a dragon turtle’s lair and the horde they found within.

The quiet one, who always notices so much, who always stopped the rogue from stealing from you, who assured you that you wouldn’t be troubled again, notices your fear. She pulls you into the back room. With spells of warding against scrying and other magical spying cast she gets the truth out of you. The truth of the offer, and the threat, and the trap hidden under your enchantment.

The faces of the party are stern. Maybe you think they are angry with you for what you’ve done. However they say that no one should dare threaten their favorite shop keep. You can’t help your relief that they don’t hate you.

As quickly as you can you shove what items you can into a bag of holding. Your wand and tools of your trade. They stand guard around you, ready to kill anyone who would try and enact their threat.

You are snuck out of the city that very night. It takes you days to hear about the explosion. Your shop, your life’s work. Destroyed. Nothing was left after the flames were extinguished. You are now presumed dead.

You cry in her arms. The quiet one. Who had been so loud, so ardent that her companions would protect you. You cry yourself to sleep, while she watches over you, a silent sentinel.

The party agrees that the threat to you, by this powerful enemy of theirs cannot stand. They march to the door of their enemy’s tower, and with flying spells and powerful blows, rend that door to splinters. You can only watch, jaw agape as the battle unfolds. You hadn’t truly realized how powerful they had become. Or maybe it was just that they fought harder and more ruthlessly because someone had dared to threaten you.

After the battle, you and the quiet one find a side chamber of the tower and she absolutely rails you.

The party sets you up with a new establishment near their residence. A new shop, where you can once again weave your spells, and work your craft. They are more powerful than even your strongest enchantments, and so are no longer your most loyal customers. Instead they sell their old equipment and other artifacts they find on their adventuring to you and you turn a tidy profit selling them in turn to the next generation of young adventurers.

Each time they leave you on the path to a new adventure, a new monster to hunt or mystery to explore you wave goodbye from your shop door. You Watch them ride away, watch them vanish into a teleportation circle, watch them take off into the air. And you wait for them. You wait for them to return. For her to return.

And they do. And she does. Each time they return, battered and bruised but alive and triumphant and more importantly alive, you are there to greet them. You buy their excess treasure, tell them of the news and rumors in town. And with lingering eyes, lingering hands, and lingering lips welcome her home.

Eventually a fight comes that could be the end of the world. It could be the end of the party of adventurers. It could be the end of you and her.

They all buckle on their armor. Ready their weapons. You give them any potion or enchantment you have. Anything to bring them back to you.

She finds you in the press of her friends. She pulls you aside for a quiet moment, just the two of you. She presses a ring into your hands. Its a simple thing, especially in comparison to the magical rings she’s been trading in in recent years. There’s not a scrap of magic to it.

“Keep this safe for me?” She asks. Its her mother’s ring. She’s carried it on a silver chain around her neck since her first days on the road. You hold the ring on its chain tightly in your hand, and hold her just as tightly. You press a ring of your own into her hands.

“Keep yourself safe for me?” You ask. The ring has the most powerful protective spells on it that you are capable of casting. She smiles and nods, tears in her eyes. And she turns away from you with out another word.

You drag any civilians into a local shelter while the battle rages over head. You can hear the crash and din of combat, louder than any thunder and the earth shakes like the entire world will be torn asunder. You do your best to keep those around you protected from the rubble that falls down. Until suddenly, everything grows still and quiet.

Trepidatiously you lead the others out of the shelter. Tears jump to your eyes as you see your merry band of heroes triumphant. They did not escape the cataclysm without damage but they are here, and slowly it is setting in for them that they survived, that they won. Laughs and cheers slowly began to echo around.

You are smiling so wide your face hurts as you are looking in between them for her. Where is she? You are looking for any glimpse of her hair or the shine of her armor. But you can’t find her. The smile dies on your face and tears spring again to your eyes. They run down your cheeks as your despair grows. You are gripping her mother’s ring so tightly you are afraid you might break it, the stone is cutting into your palm.

Then you hear it. The laugh. Her laugh. For someone so reserved she has the most beautiful laugh. It is a laugh that is exclusively heard by her closest friends. Her closest friends, and you. You turn and see her there in the crowd of people starting to celebrate a new day they never thought they would see.

She wraps you in the tightest hug. She kisses away your tears.

“Did it help?” You ask. Pointing at your ring on her finger.

She smiles past her tears. And she nods. You try to offer her mother’s ring back.

“Keep it?” She asks. “For our children?”

You nod and she puts the ring on your finger. And she kisses you in a way you’ve never been kissed before.

Years down the line, you two are living together. She is, mostly, retired from adventuring. You are still running your shop, though you no longer need the money and are doing it mostly for something to keep you busy. You children have her eyes. You have her ring on your finger.

The two of you wonder which mother your children will take after. Will one of them take over the shop when you are ready to retire? Will the call of adventure be to strong to resist for one? Who is to say. You certainly don’t know. Children need to forge their own paths in life. Though their story is one for another time.

Please reblog if you like! Let me know what you think of this story!

#Dungeons and Dragons #stories #adventurers #shopkeep #writing emerald #i was blushing while I wrote this #its so so so gay #and I love it so much

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indipindy16 · 4 years ago

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*cracks knuckles* time to bust out my ao3 bookmarks my dudes.

a quick heads up, these are ALL shinsou-centric. he’s my favourite character, and this shouldn’t be a shock if you’ve seen my blog, but just so you know. everything is shinsou.

disclaimer: i tend to bookmark fics only after they’re complete, so the incomplete ones on this list you probably won’t find in my bookmarks.

let’s start off a couple that i don’t feel have the attention they deserve:

1. Multi-Track Drifting: incomplete, currently ~30k, updates regularly

Two months into Izuku Midoriya's training to receive One For All, tragedy strikes the nation, the Symbol of Peace is dead. Midoriya wasn't there, at his mentor's side when he fell, and now it's feared that One For All is lost forever. Except someone was there with the hero in his final moments, and they have no idea what they have gained.

2. The World Ended Before it Could Begin (Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds): incomplete, currently ~36k, updates regularly

It was supposed to be Izuku. He had all the knowledge and the plans he needed to make this work. But circumstances change and now Hitoshi is thirteen again and trying to stop the world from ending while also pretending that he isn't a traumatized adult trapped in a child's body.

3. The No-Family Club: complete, ~50k

When Aizawa steps in to provide Shouto with an alternative, he learns some people get to choose their family. That a family can be a man, a girl, and a couple of teenagers living in an old house full of cats, but it can also be much, much more.

Or: Shouto, Shinsou, and a hot summer just bursting with possibilities.

4. Cotyledon: incomplete, currently ~60k, updates regularly (i think the author’s actually written the whole fic already and it just posting the chapters in increments)

It's his second year at UA, and Shinsou is finally, finally, transferring to the hero course. He's ready, he thinks, or hopes— either way, it doesn't matter, 'cause he's going to show everyone he's got what it takes. And it also doesn't matter that the longer he spends in the program, the more he can't stop thinking about a certain freckled wannabe-friend, and the more he's noticing that a certain stoic classmate is paying him a lot more attention than he'd like.

Whatever. Irrelevant. He's here to be a hero, not make friends. Even if they would be the first ones he's made in...ever. But it's his second year, and he's going to make it count by focusing on what's important.

His name is Shinsou Hitoshi, and he's going to be a goddamn hero.

5. Tsune (I'm Always Here For You): incomplete, currently ~23k, updates regularly

I'm always here for you, even if nobody is here for me.

Midoriya Izuku is a normal boy. He has a Quirk and everything! But a seemingly weak Quirk isn't enough. Being kind isn't enough. And so Izuku suffers, even as he refuses to let go of his goals. He will be a hero, no matter what it takes, because he can be. Despite all the voices telling him he can't, he can. Izuku just has to prove it.

" Midoriya Izuku, four years old and already an anxious child, is waiting for his Quirk to come in. He’s been waiting for eight days, four hours and… thirty seven minutes. -- And then it came. It didn’t arrive in a flurry of sparks that stained the air with a sweet smell like Kaachan’s, or tear through a worksheet halfway through class like Shibata’s extendable fingers, or mean that he comes into school one day with big dragon wings like Tsubasa. Instead, Izuku wakes up on the twelfth day, and he isn’t human. "

TLDR - Izuku has a kitsune Quirk and is determined to become an underground hero - he will makes lots of friends and a Dadzawa along the way, although things are never quite easy.

now here’s some gems which, if you read a lot of shinsou-centric fic, you will have read before. if you haven’t, you really ought to.

1. You Want It Darker: complete, ~530k

Aizawa hunts a killer and takes on a new student. He gets more than he bargained for from both.

2. komorebi: incomplete, currently ~90k, updates fairly regularly

The change can't be immediate, or it’ll seem forced. It has to take time, in order to be realistic. He knows that.

He’ll need to seem like a villain. But he’ll be a hero.

And for that, Hitoshi thinks he’d do just about anything.

Or,

Someone's selling UA's secrets, and Shinsou Hitoshi definitely doesn't have anything to prove.

3. The Last Resort: incomplete, ~172k, updates fairly regularly

“Mommy? Where are we going?” Shinsou asks as he was strapped into his car seat. He looked up quizzically at his mom as she gave him a backpack stuffed with clothes and his favorite plush cat. “We are just going to a trip to see some of mommy’s friends okay?” She replied, giving him a small sad smile Or Shinsou gets sold off to villains when hes a kid. They rent him his quirk out to other villains for a profit.

4. know who you are: complete, oneshot, ~11k

It was difficult to be an underground hero when the young Symbol of the Peace was a close friend, twenty of the top heroes in the country were former classmates and long-time friends, and the principal of UA, one of the most prestigious hero schools in the world, was your mentor.

When Shinsou was a teenager, he never imagined that one of his biggest problem as a pro hero would be that he was too famous.

(Social media fic, following Shinsou ten years post-canon.)

as a treat, a little ‘honourable mention,’ here’s a fic without shinsou at all (yet!)

BONUS: Terminal Velocity: incomplete, currently ~26k, updates regularly

Against all odds, Izuku loves heroes. It doesn’t matter that he’s spent his entire life with villains, the real kind, not just regular criminals but actual genuine villains. It doesn’t matter that no heroes have ever come to save him. It doesn’t matter that they probably wouldn’t save someone like him. Izuku still loves heroes.

He’s not blind to the irony of his situation. He has wings that cannot carry him to freedom, teeth and claws that he cannot wield against those who hurt him, and speed in the air and on foot that takes him nowhere. All he can do is manage disobedience where he can. Injure, don’t kill. If he can injure people instead of killing them, it’s something. It’s the closest Izuku will ever get to being a hero.

Until one day, on what should be a routine mission, everything changes.

that’s all folks!

#answered ask #bnha #bnha fic recs #bnha fic rec #fic rec #bnha shinsou #shinsou-centric #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinso #shinso hitoshi #bnha shinsou hitoshi #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction rec

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ladyaryawolf · 5 years ago

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Why Jonsa does not work in the books.

This post is where starts the conflict. Jonsa thoughs. My toughts.

What makes a lot o people ship Jon x Sansa is because of the show, and I can understand it. Ship what you want. It's your right.

It does not mean that people can lie about what happens in the books, or what is cannon by GrrM himself.

D&D gave part of Arya's history and traits to Sansa in the show. Fact.

Jeyne Poole was using Arya's name. She was the one that was abused by Ramsay Balton. This false Arya was the one that the North went into a War, and the one that made Jon Snow break his vows. It was not Sansa who Jon fought and died for.

Ship what you want. You are free to ship. Making paralelles about Cat and Ned with Jonsa. Okay. I am a Jonrya shipper. I make parallels of Jonrya and Lyanna/Rhaegar and Alyssane/Jaehaerys. We are passionate shippers after all, in a fandom where morality is not a big deal the most part of time. You have a mean to make your point, then use it.

But whatever. GrrM said that the show and the books are like different universes. Words of the author. You can't discuss that.

What I can NOT take is people lying about canonic things, and my mind explodes when I read a lot of lies of the books to justify Jonsa.

Like Sansa is Jon's type. Like Jon remembers of Sansa when he met Ygritte. Like Jon and Sansa were always close. Lies!

He compares Ygritte to Arya, tought he addmit they don't even look alike, he never, never tought about Sansa while with Ygritte. He compares Val to Arya.

"They had always been close. Jon had their father’s face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her." (Jon, A Game of Thrones).

"And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him." (Jon, A Game of Thrones)

"The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north." (Jon, A Game of Thrones)

"Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me." (Jon, A Dance with Dragons)

"Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl." (Jon, A Dance with Dragons)

“I have no sister.” The words were knives.

"The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart." (Jon, A Dance with Dragon)

"What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? "(Jon, A Dance with Dragons)

The Ygritte comparation:

“Jon could see fear and fire in her eyes. Blood ran down her white throat from where the point of his dirk had pricked her. One thrust and it’s done, he told himself. He was so close he could smell onion on her breath. She is no older than I am. Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike. “Will you yield?” he asked, giving the dirk a half turn. And if she doesn’t?” - Jon VI, ACoK

“Ygritte watched and said nothing. She was older than he’d thought at first, Jon realized; maybe as old as twenty, but short for her age, bandy-legged, with a round face, small hands, and a pug nose. Her shaggy mop of red hair stuck out in all directions. She looked plump as she crouched there, but most of that was layers of fur and wool and leather. Underneath all that she could be as skinny as Arya.” - Jon VI, ACoK

“Ygritte trotted beside Jon as he slowed his garron to a walk. She claimed to be three years older than him, though she stood half a foot shorter; however old she might be, the girl was a tough little thing. Stonesnake had called her a “spearwife” when they’d captured her in the Skirling Pass. She wasn’t wed and her weapon of choice was a short curved bow of horn and weirwood, but “spearwife” fit her all the same. She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore.” - Jon II, ASoS

“If you kill a man, and never mean t’, he’s just as dead,” Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever?” - Jon III, ASoS

When he received the letter of Ramsay

"Jon saw no reason not to tell him. “Moat Cailin is taken. The flayed corpses of the ironmen have been nailed to posts along the kingsroad. Roose Bolton summons all leal lords to Barrowton, to affirm their loyalty to the Iron Throne and celebrate his son’s wedding to…” His heart seemed to stop for a moment. No, that is not possible. She died in King’s Landing, with Father."

"Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton’s bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she’ll fight him."

"His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton’s throat as easily." (Jon, a Dance with Dragons).

"Jon felt as stiff as a man of sixty years. Dark dreams, he thought, and guilt. His thoughts kept returning to Arya. There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard’s heart. He’d had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo’s blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. He wondered if she still had it. Stick them with the pointy end, he’d told her, but if she tried to stick the Bastard, it could mean her life." (Jon, A Dance with Dragons).

• In books the quote “Love is the death of duty” by Maester Aemon is used when Jon decidesld break his vows from nights watch to save “Arya”. Arya is the character Jon loves the most and he thinks on her in every moment.

He dies thinking about Arya:

"Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whitspered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold…" (Jon, A Dance with Dragons).

George's Interviews:

“At some points, when [Game of Thrones showrunners David Benioff and Dan Weiss] and I had discussions about what way we should go in, I would always favor sticking with the books, while they would favor making changes,” he said. “I think one of the biggest ones would probably be when they made the decision not to bring Catelyn Stark back as Lady Stoneheart. That was probably the first major diversion of the show from the books and, you know, I argued against that, and David and Dan made that decision.” - Time Magazine, 2017

“You have to remember that I started writing this story in 1991 and I first met David and Dan in 2007. I was living with these characters and this world for 16 years before we even started working on the show. They’re pretty fixed in my mind and I’m not going to change anything because of the show, or reaction to the show, or what fans think. I’m just still writing the story that I set out to write in the early 1990s.” - Time Magazine, 2017

My conclusion:

Like I said before. You are free to ship everyone, but not lie about Canon things written by George RR Mantin himself. This is the canonic verse. Jon and Samsa rarely think of each other. Sansa was always distant from him, she regreats it later, but still is a fact. I am not an anti-Sansa. She is not my favorite, i addmit, but anti, for me, is somente idiot that says stupid arguements with insults just to put another character in glory, only because they dislike another, and even refuse to aguement as adults. In another words, those antis are childsh.

There is a lot of people saying that Jon would be good for Sansa and take him out of her is something cruel, as everything that is good for her is fanservice. We agree in disagree. There is no way we could try taking Jon from Sansa, if he was not hers in first place. Like I said, they rarely think of each other, she bullied him when they lived together, she kept distance following Cat's personal opinion. Sansa's fault? No. She was a child seeing her mother's opinions, and following it. It does not change what she have done. Don't get me wrong. I am not saying that Jon hates her, but the memories he shares with Sansa during his childhood are not the best. It doesn't mean they won't get along. They will! Of course they will, by all they could know, they would be the lasts of the Starks alive. Sansa might go to Winterfell in TWoW before Arya. Would they get closer? Probably. Will they share the same bond showned on TV show? No. This is bad for her? No. She would be home, with her family. This is bad to you? Sounds terrible? Does it sounds harsh?

Like, other thing that I hate about Jonsa-stans (just a part of them) justifies that she needs someone to make her happy. With all respect, if you think this way about Sansa, you do not like her. Not really. Sansa is much more complex of a character to say that only a romantic relationship with a man could make her happy. She does not need someone else in a romantic way to make her happy. She passed through a hell in King's Landing, and Petyr actions with her can be described only as disgusting. To say the only good thing that could happen to her is a man, you are reducing her character to a simple one. Everything she wants it's to go home. She is smart, kind and clever. Sansa is making Petyr Baelish play in her hands. I don't want Sansa to end up alone. She deserves a lot. She is really strong, in so many ways. Her strengh is not like Arya, Ygritte or Val. It's subtle and delicate, like Margaery in someway. Sansa deserves a man who respects her, a man who loves her with all his heart, a man that carries for her the same way Jon carries for Arya. Uconditionally.

Other thing that I hear is that Jonsa stans always says that, we, Arya-stans, look to Jonsa as threat to Arya, and we all get mad about it. I can't talk in the name of the others. For me, fuck the show. I don't care. I don't even look at the show as part of GrrM work anymore. But what gets me mad as an Arya stan, and a Jonrya shipper is not Jonsa itself. They had chemistry on screen, but in the books they don't have any of it. This is what gets me mad.

It's trying to stole something that belongs to Jon and Arya alone that gets me mad. One of the strongest and purest bonds I have ever seen in books or screen. It doesn't belong to Sansa all this devotion. It's not canon in the books, and annoys me to see tons of people lying and self inserting Sansa in Jon's heart just because they want the books to happen the same way in the show. Forget it. It's not going to happen. A lot of other characters and relationships have been destroyed by D&D, not only Jon & Arya. Write and read fanfics. Ship whatever the hell you want, but don't lie about cononic things. If Jon and Arya get along as a romantic couple or not, does not change that this bond is theirs. Sansa has her own history in the books. Her own importance. She wil be part to take Winterfell back, not the same way she did on the show, but she will be a big part of it. And she is a Stark! The end! Sansa is a southern lady in many ways, but she is Sansa Stark and a princess by her own right, dammit! She says it herself that her strengh comes from the walls within Winterfell!

Thank you to read. I have to be greatful to another posts that helped me to write it. I have to say sorry about my grammar. English is not my first language, but I hope what I wrote was clear to understand. See you soon.

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captainfangirlll · 5 years ago

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BOOK JON SNOW VS SHOW JON SNOW

Books: Jon is 15 years old in books, he still has the mind of a kid, he plays with Robb and his other siblings , the best family relationship he have are Robb and Arya, Bran aswell meanwhile Rickon and Sansa are distant (in Rickon case is because he is practically a baby)

Show: Jon is a teenager in the show, we can see his relationship with Robb in a matured way, we also acknowledge he has a good relationship with Bran and the best with Arya.

Books: Thorne starts to dislike Jon in books when he starts to train his companions, Thorne said to Jon that it would be easier to him teach some tricks to Ghost than Jon teach his friends, Jon answer to him that he would like to see Ghost doing some tricks and everyone laugh at him, since that moment Thorne said to Jon he made a mistake.

Show: Thorne just dislike Jon since the beginning there is no a specific reason why he treated him bad.

Books: Qhorin orders Jon to kill Ygritte, but Jon secretly lets her go instead. Before she leaves, Ygritte informs Jon that Mance Rayder would accept him, if he wanted to join the free folk.

Show: Ygritte scapes from Jon in show so he is captured by the free folk.

Books: Jon is a warg in books like Bran, he sees through the eyes of Ghost, and witnesses thousands of wildlings, and giants and mammoths, before being attacked by an eagle in beyond the wall journet with Qhorin, Jon informs the group, who recognize him for a warg.

Show: We don’t see Jon warg skills in show.

Book: Jon kills Qhorin with the help of Ghost, to win the trust of thr wildings, so they agree to bring him to Mance Rayder.

Show: Jon Kills Qhorin by his own, Ghost is not with them.

Books: Ygritte is kind of adolescent in books meanwhile Jon is a pre teen that’s why he is so scared and nervous about her sexual implications.

Show: Jon and Ygritte have the same age but Jon is still nervous arround her.

Books: Edric Dayne, Lord of Starfall and a member of the brotherhood without banners, tells Arya that he is Jon's milk brother, as they shared the same wet nurse, Wylla.

Show: We don’t see Edric in show so Arya never knew this.

Book: Jon didn’t fight with his sword in castle black battle with the wildings he spent all the battle in the wall with the arches helping Donal Noye in the defense of Castle Black against Styr's raider, he finds Ygritte who dies in a grief-stricken Jon's arms.

Show: Jon spends a time in the wall with the archers but then he down for the battle and fight sword to sword with wilds, also he finds Ygritte but Olly kills her before anything happens in front of him.

Book: Mance Rayder figths in casttle black battle this crows vs wildings battle is for days, Donal has Jon command from atop the Wall while the blacksmith descends to defend the gate. After Donal is killed by Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg, Jon reluctantly takes command of the Wall's defenses, after prompting from Master Aemon. Jon successfully holds the Wall against overwhelming odds for several days.

Show: The batlle of casttle black is in one night.

Books: Fearing that Melisandre might burn Maester Aemon and the infant of the captured Mance Rayder for their royal blood, Jon secretly swaps Mance's son with Gilly's son. Jon sends Samwell Tarly to the Citadel to train as Castle Black's next maester, sending Aemon, Gilly, Mance's child, and Dareon with Sam.

Show: We don’t see any intention on Melissandre side to burn Maester Aemon, also Mance doesn’t have a son in show and he is the one burned by Melissandre by Jon kill him before.

Books: In King's Landing, Queen Regent Cersei Lannister is outraged to learn of Jon's appointment as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, as he has given Stannis Baratheon shelter. The small council agrees that Jon must be removed from command. Grand Maester Pycelle suggests informing the Watch that the crown will send no more men to the Wall until Jon is removed. Cersei is delighted with Qyburn's suggestion to send a hundred recruits with secret orders to remove Jon. She plots to send Ser Osney Kettleblack to carry out the plan, but both Osney and Cersei are imprisoned by the Faith of the Seven before these plans can come to fruition.

Show: Jon ascension as Lord Commander didn’t have important in Kings Landing.

Book: Jon never went to hardhome to rescued wildings the ones who goes are his nigths watch companions and some wildings so he actually haven’t kill a white walker yet.

Show: Jon goes to hardhome to rescued the wildings and he fights with a White Walker and killed him also meets the night King who until now doesn’t exist in books.

Show: Jon and The night king exchange a lot of glances.

Book: We haven’t see the Night King in books, there also no evidence about a Knight King just about a leader figured with a white woman by his side.

Books: Jon finds out Ramsay Bolton will marry Arya Stark, Melisandre informs Jon she has had a vision of a girl on a dying horse making for Castle Black. Melisandre reveals that she had changed the appearances of Mance and Rattleshirt with a glamor, so that Stannis actually executed Rattleshirt and that Mance has been serving Jon. Mance is sent to secretly rescue Arya.

“ Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl” — Jon Snow.

- - -

His heart seemed to stop for a moment. No, that is not possible. She died in King’s Landing, with Father.

“Lord Snow?” Clydas peered at him closely with his dim pink eyes. “Are you … unwell? You seem …” “He’s to marry Arya Stark. My little sister.” Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton’s bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she’ll fight him. “Your sister,” Iron Emmett said, “how old is …” By now she’d be eleven, Jon thought.

(...)

While Jon despairs, Melisandre appears and offers a way to save Arya. She points out that Jon has power, and shouldn't be afraid to wield it.

“Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.” I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?” “Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly …” “Your Wall is a queer place, but there is power here, if you will use it. Power in you, and in this beast. You resist it, and that is your mistake. Embrace it. Use it.” ...“Take my hand,” she said again, “and let me save your sister.”

Show: Mance is dead in the show burned by Melissandre, and the one married Ramsay is Sansa Stark, Jon finds out about this but he doesn’t do anything to help her.

Books: After Stannis's wife, Queen Selyse Baratheon, arrives at Castle Black from Eastwatch, Jon negotiates with Tycho Nestoris, an envoy of the Iron Bank of Braavos. Jon agrees to a loan so the Watch can purchase food and supplies and hire ships.

Show: We never see this political Jon skills what a shame he he never negotiated with the Iron bank in the show, because stannis borrowed his ships to him.

Books: When Jon finds out about Hardhome he intends to rescue them, but he is interrupted by a taunting letter from Ramsay which claims that Stannis has been defeated and Mance captured. Jon relinquishes command of the ranging and announces his intention to ride south against House Bolton to save Arya and defends the Nights Watch. He does not order the Night's Watch to fight with him, but asks both wildlings and black brothers alike to join him of their own volition. Most wildlings in the Shieldhall agree to support him, but Jon's decision causes great discontent within the Watch's upper leadership.

Show: Jon go to Hardhome and doesn’t recieve any Ramsay letter.

Books: In books Jon is killed by some of the members of night watch in the confusion resulting from Wun Wun's killing of Ser Patrek of King's Mountain, he is attacked in the mutiny at Castle Black. While stabbing the Lord Commander, Bowen Marsh and Wick Wittlestick state "for the Watch" also because he is planning break his vows to rescued “Arya” from marry Ramsay.” with some castle black mans and the wildings.

Show: In tv show the members a of night watch killed Jon because he let’s the wildings pass the wall Thorne and Olly participate in his murder but in books Olly doesn’t exist and Thorne didn’t have part in this and he is still alive.

Books: Jon finals words and thoughts are dedicated to Ghost and Arya:

When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. "Why?"

"For the Watch." Wick slashed at him again.

Jon manages to ward off Wick's second attack, but when he tries to draw Longclaw, "his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard." That's when the second knife hits.

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. "For the Watch." He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whitspered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold…

That's the last appearance of Jon Snow in "A Dance with Dragons, wich is also the last books realized so is the last time we know about him in books, and we all know what happens with him on show.

Other differences

• In books the quote “Love is the death of duty” by Maester Aemon is used when Jon decidesld break his vows from nights watch to save “Arya” (who is actually Jeyne Poole no Arya as I said in my Arya books vs show). Arya is the character Jon loves the most and he thinks on her in every moment:

And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him. (A Game of Thrones, Jon III)

Jon felt as stiff as a man of sixty years. Dark dreams, he thought, and guilt.His thoughts kept returning to Arya. There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard’s heart. He’d had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo’s blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. He wondered if she still had it. Stick them with the pointy end, he’d told her, but if she tried to stick the Bastard, it could mean her life.

Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike. — Jon when he meets Ygritte

They had always been close. Jon had their father’s face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her.

• Jon is more political in books than show, we seem him negotiating with the iron bank, confronting with Ramsay, taking decisions about Mance and Gilly babies and more, also Jon is not that perfect in books as in show, he have selfish thoughts sometimes but at the end he tries his best.

• His relationship with Ghost is deeper in books, he can warg him and is always by his side.

With all this changes between books and show we can assume that yes, Jon is gonna be resurrected but we don’t know if in the same way, but he will be darker after he comes back, he will abandoned the nights watch to save “Arya” and is gonna be king in the north but we will see it in a different way than the show.

He is gonna be a secret Targaryen too, and also ride a Dragon because in books we have the prophecy of the three heads of the dragon

“He has a song. He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire,” Rhaegar tells the nurse before looking directly at Daenerys and saying, “There must be one more. The dragon has three heads.”

So with that we can assume we will see Jon and Daenerys riding the dragons in books also one more Targaryen (maybe Aemon or Tyrion book reades knows what im talking about )

Also I think he is gonna do more important things to the long night, is very posible we see Jonerys in books too and Jon killing her at the end, but I think is gonna be played different with the Azor Ahai prophecy because I have the strong theory Jon is Azor Ahai:

“There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him.” — Books prophecy.

Azor Ahai killed Nissa Nissa who was his wife. In order to unleash the powers of the sword Lightbringer so that he could defeat the darkness of the Great Other, he had to sacrifice her by plunging it into her heart. I think we will see that with Jon i Daenerys in a very unexpected way, I mean not intentionally way.

“According to prophecy, our champion will be reborn to wake dragons from stone and reforge the great sword Lightbringer that defeated the darkness those thousands of years ago. If the old tales are true, a terrible weapon forged with a loving wife's heart. Part of me thinks man was well rid of it, but great power requires great sacrifice. That much at least the Lord of Light is clear on.” — THOROS OF MYR.

In conclusion I really have big hopes for Jon finale arc in books, since there is no night king in books I expect Jon contributes to the battle against the others in a really original way, also his real identity as a Targeryen be more important in the history even i he has the same ending in books if he is journey is good it will don’t matter. Also he go to the wall by his choice not because he is exiled.

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yeniayofnymeria · 5 years ago

Text

A Song of Ice and Fire "Champions" (Theory)

Hello everone, i want to share my own theory about long night and it's champions. It’s about Arya and Dany.

First, I'm sorry for my poor English, i helped from google translate, hope you can understand what i mean.

Introduction

The legend of the Long Night and AA has been discussed many times, but I want to approach it from a different topic. As you know, there are two fundamental forces in the universe of asoiaf, and we are reading the war of these two forces; ice and fire.

Power representing the ice side; It's called the Great Other. He is the god of death, of terror, of night. The Spirit of Ice.

Power representing the fire side; It's called R'hllor. He is the god of light, of life, of fire.

"...The war has been waged since time began, and before it is done, all men must choose where they will stand. On one side is R'hllor, the Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire, the God of Flame and Shadow. Against him stands the Great Other whose name may not be spoken, the Lord of Darkness, the Soul of Ice, the God of Night and Terror. Ours is not a choice between Baratheon and Lannister, between Greyjoy and Stark. It is death we choose, or life. Darkness, or light." Melisandre

And this...

"The way the world is made. The truth is all around you, plain to behold. The night is dark and full of terrors, the day bright and beautiful and full of hope. One is black, the other white. There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Male and female. Pain and pleasure. Winter and summer. Evil and good." She took a step toward him. "Death and life. Everywhere, opposites. Everywhere, the war." Melisandre

Of cource from Melisandre's perspective "Great Other... dead... is pure evil" But if we could ask it to ice side, they will said same thing for fire side, yeah? So do not mind the words of good and evil. Just focus the sides... I always say "the war between ice and fire" is like same as Stark and Lannister war. We saw both sides did bad things(Arya POVs), and both sides had good reason for battle. Who can say Starks are pure good but Lannisters are pure evil? I'm a Stark fan and i cannot say this.

So let's return our battle. Ice side wants eternal winter and fire side wants eternal summer. Well, i can say both of this are not good something, this is not a balance. Imagine living in the heat of desert or cold waether of north pole. Just one season, nothing more. Wildings live in north and they doesn't want to live there because life is so hard in there.

Prophecies

And I know, AA sound like a hero but who knows this? Really, we should trust the prophecises? I do not think so.

GRRM: " Prophecies are, you know, a double edge sword. You have to handle them very carefully; I mean, they can add depth and interest to a book, but you don’t want to be too literal or too easy... "

and Marwyn

"Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy." Marwyn turned his head and spat a gob of red phlegm onto the floor. "Not that I would trust it. Gorghan of Old Ghis once wrote that a prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think, how sweet, how fine, how good this is . . . and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams. That is the nature of prophecy, said Gorghan. Prophecy will bite your prick off every time." He chewed a bit. "Still . . ."

and Tyrion

"Prophecy is like a half-trained mule," he complained to Jorah Mormont. "It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head."

So guys, do not trust prophecy so much. :)

It doesn't mean AA is evil, forget evil word or good, ok? Both sides want to win this war this why they need a campion, and this champions are hero for their sides, that's all. Yeah but not for everyone, special not for common folk. You know, always common folk gets hurt in somebody's war.

Also AA prophecy comes from Asshai, a hero, a savior... That place so close to Yi Ti, Dawn Empire. Who caused the Long Night? Blood Stone Emperor. The Long Night was a punishmed for them(Dawn people and their emperor)which it was sent by Night's Lion. Some kind of revenge(ice is revenge). Who was Night's Lion? God of Night, God of Dead! So this why AA is against to ice, Great Other(Night's Lion).

But at Westeros, there is no AA or savior, a hero against Great Other... Yeah, there is a Last Hero, true but his story and mission are little different from aa's story.

According to Asshai, AA finished the Long Night but according to North, Last Hero found Childiren of Forest and get put together them and Night's Watch and First Men and fought against Others and won somehow.

The Champions

Actually, I want to focus on this word. R’hllor's warrior is also known as the “champion"

In the ASOIAF universe, in battles, sometimes there are champions both sides. They fight each other for win, In this way, sometimes armies do not have to fight... You need a champion if you want a trial by combat at Westeros. Of course, the other side has a champion too. Of your champion wins, you survive.

In summary, if there is a champion, it has to be valid for both sides.

Champions of Ice and Fire

Is there champion of ice? Well at least, we know Melisandre think so.

But beyond the Wall, the enemy grows stronger, and should he win the dawn will never come again. She wondered if it had been his face that she had seen, staring out at her from the flames. No. Surely not. His visage would be more frightening than that, cold and black and too terrible for any man to gaze upon and live. The wooden man she had glimpsed, though, and the boy with the wolf's face … they were his servants, surely … his champions, as Stannis was hers.

We might think that the ice side will have a champion. Like fire side.

Well we assume fire side's champion is Dany. Yeah, some people thinks Jon is AA but AA must be full fire but he is ice and fire by his parents. Dany suits more than him and looks she fulfilled the prophecy.

Also i belive Jon is a balance; he is ice and fire; dark and light; dead and life. First Dawn Emperor was son of Maiden of Light(fire) and Night's Lion(ice) and in his reign there was wealth and peace. Why? Because he was half ice, half fire; half light, half night; half dead, hald life... He was balance. If you realize Jon also dead now and when he comes back he will literally be dead and life, a ghost, neither literally dead nor alive, but both. There is a darkness inside him (especially after resurrection) and also there is light. I belive you got it. :)

So ok, Jon is balance... Dany is AA... then who is Ice's champion?

R'hllor's champion was full fire. Great Other's champion must be full ice? A Stark. A First Men, Daughter of North. Someone who smells death. Someone serving the god of death. Arya Stark.

She says the names of the people she wants to die in her prayer. Death accepts it. Why is that? Because she is messenger of dead, champion of Great Other.

Women are in a strong position in this book. Usually we are used to seeing men in the foreground in everything. That's why we're waiting for the hero or anything like that to turn out to be men. But not in this book. 5000 years ago, The Others's leader(or something like that) was a women; Night's Queen. We do not know what was it but she had a plan and used for this a NW member, Lord Commander, probably a Stark. Night's King.

If AA ise Dany, then it makes sense that Great Other's champion is a woman. It would be fun to watch two women's war. Dragon Queen and Wolf Queen, ice and fire. Also Arya's skills for what? Just for kill her list? No! He is one of the big five of GRRM. Like the other four, she should have a big impact on this war.

“If a twelve-year old has to conquer the world, then so be it.”

I believe FM is connected Great Other. God of Dead is Great Other. And Arya with them. Jaqen was around Arya and lead her to FM. Why? Too young to be FM. The Kind Man said her training would take years. But she's only been there for a few months, but she took a face. They taught her. They know exactly what she wants, but they keep her with them. They're giving her an accelerated course.

Ghost of High Heart saw what was inside her and her future

The dwarf woman studied her with dim red eyes. "I see you," she whispered. "I see you, wolf child. Blood child. I thought it was the lord who smelled of death . . ." She began to sob, her little body shaking. "You are cruel to come to my hill, cruel. I gorged on grief at Summerhall, I need none of yours. Begone from here, dark heart. Begone!"

Arya hears some whisper. Sounds like someone's talking to him.

Calm as still water, a small voice whispered in her ear. Arya was so startled she almost dropped her bundle. She looked around wildly, but there was no one in the stable but her, and the horses, and the dead men. Quiet as a shadow, she heard. Was it her own voice, or Syrio's? She could not tell, yet somehow it calmed her fears.

And this.

"But there is no pack," she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall. "I'm not even me now, I'm Nan." "You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you." “Wolf blood,” Arya now remembered.

So what do you think?

#AryaStark #daenerys targeryan #asoiaf #ice and fire #books #JonryaWeek2020 #JonryaJanuary

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theonyxpath · 4 years ago

Link

Our Legendlore KS only has days left to run, and actually ends on Thursday this week, so as my final push for folks to check it out, I’m not going to try and convince you like last week. I’m going to let two excellent writers do that!

Here’s a great description of Legendlore, written, as only he can, by our own Matthew Dawkins:

But why should you back it? Well, in this time where some gamers are clinging on to the notion that “all orcs are evil from birth”, “disability has no place in fantasy adventures” and “there’s no such thing as a good drow” (they haven’t heard of Drizzt), Legendlore says the opposite.

Legendlore is a fantasy setting where diversity is a strength, we don’t shy away from complex societies and cultures, and where you can damn well buy yourself a wheelchair especially designed for dungeon crawling, or sit on a bloody floating disc! This is a game that embraces the fact that it’s magical, it’s wondrous, and yes, there’s evil out there in need of vanquishing, but there’s also a brilliant world to discover and enlightenment and wisdom to be found.

I’m in love with the art, the writing, and skilful design of this game, which uses the 5th Edition system to amazing effect. I’m impressed by the effort and energy Steffie De Vaan and her entire team of writers have poured into it. It’s a game I want to play, and if you feel orcs are better only as black and white villains, I invite you to read the manuscript – which is available as a free download from DriveThruRPG.com – and feel as impressed as I do.

And here’s developer Steffie De Vann’s excellent take on why she loves the game:

Legendlore offers a rich and layered world. No one is born good or evil, nor does it have ‘evil races.’ People come in all colors, genders, orientations, and alignments. You can be a black trans feminine elf & be right at home in the Realm. Our iconics put our ‘money where our mouth is’ – our elf is a trans black woman, our pixie a non-binary person, our dwarf is a combat veteran in a wheelchair, and I could go on. This is a game that believes diversity is strength. It’s an isekai/portal game, and we created Backgrounds ranging from ‘Activist’ and ‘RPG Aficionado’ to ‘Working Poor.’

The world of Legendlore is home to a sentient 1974’s Ford Mustang, parasite mushrooms that try to kill you by YELLING VERY LOUDLY (trust me, it’s effective), sacred Chipmunks, and the descendants of Amelia Earhart running an aviation nation. It pairs this whimsy with a genuinely complex world. For example, the orcs used to live in what’s now the nation of Drohm. Orcs ambassadors are petitioning the other nations to recognize their sovereignty, but doing so would give Drohm the excuse it needs to go to war – and make no mistake, Darkoth the Darklord *wants* to go to war. Are the orcs right? YES. Should the other nations help them out? HECK YES. Is it understandable that the nations are dragging their feet because war is good for no one except the Generals? Also yes. If that sounds like a conundrum you want to tackle, and sway the fate of Azoth, this is a game for you.

If that sound good to you, go check us out on KS. And if you’re still on the fence – there’s a link in there to a free preview manuscript.

In fact, Steffie has been posting examples of the Legendlore characters she mentions above:

This is Aaliyah, our elven iconic. She’s a Black trans woman who uses a mix of ASL and forestspeak signs to communicate. She’s a peaceful ambassador foremost, but doesn’t back down from a fight when it comes to that.

This is Najda, our dwarven iconic. She is a Muslim army vet who was wounded during her tour in Afghanistan. She now works in a Los Angeles comic book store, where she discovered a crossing into the world of Legendlore.

Here’s Jada, our pixie iconic. Pixies are born agender, and choose a gender as they grow up. Feminine pixies have 2 antenna, masculine pixies have 0, and non-binary pixies have 1. Pixies are as fierce as they are small, they love laughing and hate bullies.

There you go, and here’s the link to the Legendlore Kickstarter: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/339646881/legendlore-rpg-setting-for-5th-edition-fantasy-roleplaying-0

Let the Streets Run Red art by Oliver Specht

Besides Legendlore, What Else?

Just a warning, and it may just be a short-term issue, but right now it seems that we can’t ship anything to Canada or Mexico. We haven’t yet heard whether we can receive packages from those countries, but since our most prolific printers are based in Canada, we may experience some delays in our traditionally printed projects.

Right now, we’re only having issues with getting the physical printer proofs sent back and forth for approvals, and not the actual books themselves.

You’d think after all the panels and Actual Playing I did during the Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Con a few weeks ago that I’d be all talked out. Well, that does not seem to be the case. Ever.

Naw, I love telling folks about what Onyx Path is and the game worlds we make! I just can’t help myself, we have so many exciting and fun things going on!

Last week, Mike and the gang over at the This Week In Geek podcast interviewed me about WW and Onyx Path, and it turned into a sort of oral history of how the companies transformed into each successive version, and just where game lines branched off to different companies and editions.

If that sort of stuff is interesting for you, here ya go: http://thisweekingeek.net/news/interviews/fan-service-interview-rich-thomas-onyx-path-june-2020

Then this weekend, I sat in on a retrospective of the Art of Mage at Ascension Con 2020 along with Satyros Phil Brucato and artists Mark Jackson and Echo Chernik. Echo took on the slideshow duties and we all discussed the Mage art that came up as it appeared.

That was pretty great, and it was certainly a treat to chat with folks I haven’t talked to in years. Hopefully, that recording will show up on YouTube soon and we’ll get you all a link.

Cults of the Blood Gods art by Thomas Denmark

What wasn’t great last week were a couple of issues that we needed to deal with. While we dealt with them as best as we could, we realized that at core our little crew of folks here are simply not HR experts. And more importantly, we shouldn’t try to be.

We need to concentrate on making great games and amazing worlds, like we do.

Which means that tomorrow, I’m interviewing our current best prospect for an HR point-of-contact for the company. Someone who is HR trained and has worked in HR at other companies. And very important for us, someone who is unconnected to Onyx Path and has never been a gamer or in the TTRPG business.

We need someone who doesn’t have the connections or baggage that might make it hard to be objective when they review HR concerns. Hopefully, my interview is the one, and once everything is good to go we’ll include info concerning them prominently on our website so folks know who to contact.

I mean, it’s important that our worlds are all about excitement, and fear, and victory, and defeat. What our creators and community go through in the real world shouldn’t also require all those moments. We want everyone playing our games and reading our books to be safe while they explore our:

Many Worlds, One Path!

Blurbs!

Kickstarter!

The Legendlore Kickstarter is in its last few days and ends this Thursday, and now we’re really building towards Stretch Goals: the GM’s Screen, and starting the Legendlore Companion book PDF!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/339646881/legendlore-rpg-setting-for-5th-edition-fantasy-roleplaying-0

Grab your friends and escape to another world!

You’ve found an enchanted portal — a transition point — between worlds. The portal, called a Crossing, takes you to a world you thought only existed in novels and films: a magical land where dragons roam the skies, orcs and hobgoblins terrorize weary travelers, and unicorns prance through the forest. It is a world where humans join other peoples such as elves, trolls, dwarves, changelings, and the dreaded creatures who steal the night. It is a world of fantasy — of imagination.

It is the Realm.

It is Legendlore.

Next Up On Kickstarter: They Came From Beyond the Grave!

Onyx Path Media!

This week: the return of the return of the Scion Actual Play as Eddy and Dixie’s characters dig further into the machinations of the gods!

As always, this Friday’s Onyx Pathcast will be on Podbean or your favorite podcast venue! https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

All our panels and games from Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention are still available on twitch.tv/theonyxpath! All you need to do is head on over to the website and subscribe. If you have an Amazon Prime account, you can do so for free and access our entire catalogue of videos!

Legendlore‘s Kickstarter is coming to an end, but Jen Vaughn’s actual play is still going on our Twitch channel every week on Friday night! Lost in the Crossing is an amazing story played through by a fantastic GM and excellent roleplayers, and handles the Legendlore world from the perspective of visitors and native inhabitants of the Realm! Make sure you’re tuning in every Friday or catching up afterwards by subscribing.

That’s not all for Legendlore, as we have actual plays by Steffie de Vaan and Corinne McCrory over on our YouTube channel, which you can find here https://youtu.be/UaQXSlEatDw and here https://youtu.be/RRvnJOrmNzM! Please give our GMs some support and tune in!

This week on Twitch, expect to see:

V5 – Chicago by Night

Realms of Pugmire – Paws & Claws

Legendlore – The Metal Scourge

Dystopia Rising: Evolution – Thieves of Old York

They Came from Beneath the Sea! – They Came from Devil’s Reef!

Changeling: The Dreaming – The Last Faerie Tale

Mage: The Awakening – Occultists Anonymous

Legendlore – Lost in the Crossing

Scarred Lands – Purge of the Serpentholds

Chronicles of Darkness – Tooth and Claw

Deviant: The Renegades – A Cautionary Tale

Get watching for some fantastic insight into how to run these wonderful games.

Come take a look at our YouTube channel, youtube.com/user/theonyxpath, where you can find a whole load of videos of actual plays, dissections of our games, and more, including:

Legendlore – The Metal Scourge: https://youtu.be/ECRrErPLm64

Storytellers with Coffee – Safety Tools: https://youtu.be/FjG-YbG_Q1k

Mage: The Ascension – Technocracy Reloaded: https://youtu.be/9Al7ZdkLGiM

Even more Legendlore – The Metal Scourge: https://youtu.be/RRvnJOrmNzM

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Occultists Anonymous continues right here with their excellent Mage: The Awakening chronicle:

Episode 108: Car-V Heist While Songbird prepares for a dangerous summoning, Atratus and Wyrd hit the junkyards with an overly elaborate plan to make an overly elaborate gift. How very Mage of them… https://youtu.be/wSy3c74jkfM

Episode 109: Crown of Blood Wyrd and Atratus enjoy the joy of a well-made gift and the good vibes that comes with that. Songbird joins together with Hadramiel to summon an Angel of Death to anoint a Vampire Prince in power. https://youtu.be/QxB6Ml6uStY

A Bunch of Gamers continue their actual play of They Came from Beneath the Sea! and conclude it with a mini review: https://youtu.be/qIMwcOZmR8k

The Botch Pit have released a wonderful new guide for Changeling: The Lost right here. Do give them a like and a subscribe: https://youtu.be/Bd0UZQZt2OM

Please check these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games! We’d love to feature you!

Electronic Gaming!

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is awesome! (Seriously, you need to roll 100 dice for Exalted? This app has you covered.)

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You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue from which you bought it. Reviews really, really help us get folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these latest fiction books:

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And you can order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e at the same link! And now Scion Origin and Scion Hero and Trinity Continuum Core and Trinity Continuum: Aeon are available to order!

As always, you can find Onyx Path’s titles at DriveThruRPG.com!

On Sale This Week!

Available this Wednesday, we present Dystopia Rising: Evolution shirts and posters on our RedBubble store!

Conventions!

Though dates for physical conventions are subject to change due to the current COVID-19 outbreak, here’s what’s left of our current list of upcoming conventions (and really, we’re just waiting for this last one to be cancelled even though it’s Nov/Dec). Instead, keep an eye out here for more virtual conventions we’re going to be involved with:

PAX Unplugged: https://unplugged.paxsite.com/

And now, the new project status updates!

Development Status from Eddy Webb! (Projects in bold have changed status since last week.):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep.)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Adversaries of the Righteous (Exalted 3rd Edition)

The Devoted Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

Saints and Monsters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Anima

M20 Technocracy Operative’s Dossier (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

Squeaks In The Deep (Realms of Pugmire)

Redlines

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Hundred Devil’s Night Parade (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Novas Worldwide (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Exalted Essence Edition (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Wild Hunt (Scion 2nd Edition)

CtL 2e Novella Collection: Hollow Courts (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Second Draft

Many-Faced Strangers – Lunars Companion (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Mission Statements (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Contagion Chronicle Ready-Made Characters (Chronicles of Darkness)

Trinity Continuum: Adventure! core (Trinity Continuum: Adventure!)

Dead Man’s Rust (Scarred Lands)

The Clades Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

V5 Forbidden Religions (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

M20 Rich Bastard’s Guide To Magick (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

V5 Children of the Blood (was The Faithful Undead) (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Development

TC: Aberrant Reference Screen (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Contagion Chronicle: Global Outbreaks (Chronicles of Darkness)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Assassins (Trinity Continuum Core)

V5 Trails of Ash and Bone (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Manuscript Approval

Crucible of Legends (Exalted 3rd Edition)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Under Alien Skies (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

N!ternational Wrestling Entertainment (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Post-Approval Development

Editing

Lunars Novella (Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Player’s Guide to the Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Contagion Chronicle Jumpstart (Chronicles of Darkness)

TC: Aberrant Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

LARP Rules (Scion 2nd Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

The Book of Lasting Death (Mummy: The Curse 2e)

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (They Came From!)

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Dearly Bleak – Novella (Deviant: The Renegades)

Post-Editing Development

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

W20 Shattered Dreams Gift Cards (Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Hunter: The Vigil 2e core (Hunter: The Vigil 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

Pirates of Pugmire KS-Added Adventure (Realms of Pugmire)

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Terra Firma (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Indexing

Art Direction from Mike Chaney!

In Art Direction

Tales of Aquatic Terror – Handing off to Meredith to AD.

WoD Ghost Hunters (KS) – Prepping KS assets.

Aberrant – AD’d. Sketches from HIVE in.

Hunter: The Vigil 2e

Mummy 2

Deviant

Legendlore – KS running.

Technocracy Reloaded (KS)

Cults of the Blood God – Rolling along.

Scion: Dragon (KS) – Waiting on art notes.

Masks of the Mythos (KS) – Pinging potential cover and fulls artist.

Scion: Demigod (KS) – Art rolling. KS assets AD’d.

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (KS) – Prepping KS assets.

TC: Adventure! (KS) – Shen Fei cover art finishing.

Geist: One Foot In the Grave – AD’d.

In Layout

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad

Vigil Watch

TC Aeon Terra Firma

V5 Let the Streets Run Red – working layout now.

Pugmire Adventure

Scion Titanomachy

Proofing

Trinity Aeon Jumpstart – Errata gathering.

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate – Page XXs.

Contagion Chronicle – Backer PDF out to backers, gathering errata.

Cavaliers of Mars: City of the Towered Tombs

Magic Item Decks (Scarred Lands)

Yugman’s Guide Support Decks (Scarred Lands)

Dark Eras 2 Screen and booklet

At Press

Scion Companion – Awaiting errata from devs.

TCFBTS Heroic Land Dwellers – PoD files uploaded.

TCFBTS Screen and Booklet – Files at press.

They Came from Beneath the Sea! – Press proofs signed off on, PoD files uploaded.

Creature Collection 5e – PoD proof ordered. Traditional files sent to printer.

Pirates of Pugmire – Files at press. PoD proofs ordered.

Pirates of Pugmire Screen – Files at press.

Pugmire Buried Bones – PoD files uploaded.

Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition Dark Eras Compilation – Creating PoD file.

Today’s Reason to Celebrate!

This coming week is a big one for our household with the birthdays of two of our widdle kiddies (really not widdle at all any more), and the July 4th celebration of the American colonies’ independence from Great Britain! “And just as Tom here has written, we say To Hell With Great Britain!” Sorry, Matthew…

In sadder news, we acknowledge the passing of Jim Holloway, noted artist for Paranoia and Star Frontiers and many early issues of Dragon Magazine. Personally, I very much enjoyed his style, and he brought a technical expertise and a sense of humor to the early TTRPG business that it sorely needed.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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starfaring-princelotor · 5 years ago

Text

The Prison Kingdom

Chapter 1: The Empty Legacy

Summary: The world is becoming more and more dangerous, both on land and sea. It’s time for you to face this fight, and dragon, on your own terms. Even if it means siding along with the kingdom who would condemn your kind without mercy.

Warnings: Mention about decapitation.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Lotura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

A/N: It’s a medieval-ish AU with dragons. What more could you want?

1 . 2 .

[There’s an old saying among renegade sea folk: The pirate that counts their booty are mere thieves.

War and death have pillaged the water and dirt of the planet for centuries, costing innocent lives from both sides. It was easy to paint the enemy as the enemy, as the one who needs to die before their sword cuts down your soul. It was easy to defend what you righteously believed needs to be defended, whether that be gold or the treasures that come with family and friends. It was easy to embrace that the laws of the sea were, at best, just rumors among the free people.

And such laws, such rules whispered by the dead man, don’t apply to the mystical wildlife. They don’t apply to creatures who have no loyalty, who have no other moral besides kill and eat for survival. From the trolls of the mountains, to the mermaids of the sea, to the fae of the forests, to the very dragons who control elements with ferocity matching the epitome of death itself, it would do well to remember that a set of fangs have no set order to kill.

But while beasts and monsters roam, and kingdoms rise and fall to the tests of time, and legends become lingering myths by the breath of the wind, it is the folly of prideful ignorance which murders countless more than the culmination of every bloodthirsty demon known in existence. With that in mind, tread carefully around those you would call allies or friends or like-minded folks. The Codex of Life may preach all-for-one and one-for-all, but deep down, it is a beautifully written lie for the over-eager martyrs.

Do not fall for such false speech regarding the dichotomy of good and evil.

Severing a hydra’s head will not kill it. Mana spells are useless against the naga’s of the Ice Plateaus. Beware of the volcano whose smoke takes form of two lovers, for no weapon or mantra can quell their rage should you cross them on a full moon. This collection of knowledge will help spread death, strike fear and hope in the hearts of many, and I leave this to you, my child.

You will have no legacy to follow. You are the bastard child I left behind to reach that unreachable freedom. You will make your own name amongst the farthest edges of the sea with every gale that blesses your sails.

You are a pirate.]

Closing the leather-bound journal, you skimmed your thumb over the pressed design of crossbones and cutlass’ on the cover. A legacy forgotten and one you would never know about? Dead men tell no tales, indeed. But regardless, this book would help with the bounty you were debating on facing. The paper was flimsy, hastily ripped off the pole to save for later, but the words were clear as day. And if you were able to complete this task, pocket enough shiny coin to support your entire crew with all the rum and pleasure they could want for years on end, leave behind your own legend, then that’d be enough for you.

“Seeking Dragonslayers of all kind! Report to Altea, Blessed Kingdom of Oriande!”

Then, hastily scribbled at the bottom.

“Speak to Paladin Takashi of the Black Mane Guild.”

Hefting yourself from your seat, you downed the rest of your mug reeking of ale and moist wood. The jovial band played, the patrons danced, the entire room was filled with fighting life, and it was impossible to not let it flow through you. It felt wrong to hold such a book in this place, the taboo writings from death’s bleeding quill. And so, with a tip of your hat and a silver doubloon for the ever so diligent barkeep, you stumbled out into the chill of the night with nothing but your guns, your sword, and the magical warmth of ale to keep you steadfast and eager towards your freedom.

But freedom always came with a cost and you paid a leg to chase it.

When you passed through the heavily fortified gates of Altea, shimmering in that pristine metal forged only by the elves of old, nothing came as a surprise. This place, this kingdom, the people here, were rich with elegance and practically congested in an air of royalty. Prim and proper. Clean, lethal, and ready to strike while looking mystical by default. Alteans, they called themselves. A long generation of the ancient Elven deities, granted with the dwindling power of magic.

The book states they do not share their secrets with outsiders. Not even to those stupidly loyal to them.

Imagine the raised brow of confusion when you saw their captain, that Takashi fellow, was a werewolf. So far from his pack, this one. Though, it made sense. Ferocious, fierce, werewolves were not meant to be trifled with, full moon or no. The loyalty of the wolf combined with the logical reasoning of man? Smart. Now, the real question was where did his allegiance lie?

“Paladin Takashi, I presume?”

Grey eyes, like the foggiest of winter nights, met yours and you saw him size you up with but a flash. Not lecherously, no, more like how a soldier would assess a fight, a situation, a potential ally or enemy. With amusement glistening in YOUR eyes, you found that he couldn’t pinpoint you down. A pirate on land? Joining the fight for a good cause? Yes, yes, you heard it all before. Walking ironies were always meant to be suspicious.

But pirates had charm and you knew when to use it.

With a flourished bow, both exaggerating in mock and respect, you spoke through a grin, “Allow me to introduce meself, ser. I be known as Peg-Leg the Kegmaster, cannon crafter and duelist extraordinaire of The Mermaid’s Doom, here at yer service.”

“A pirate?”

“Aye, a pirate, and if ye gunna be needin’ a slayed dragon, then yer gunna be needin’ what I have’ta offer.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised the guards didn’t detain you at first sight. But, desperate times call for desperate measures,” he replied freely, not at all with a judgmental tone but one of legitimate concern for you, for a stranger.

“An’ I be the perfect one fer those desperate times, mate.”

You placed the bounty parchment on the table in front of him then slid into the seat, onlookers tending to their own business. Coming here, to the central command of the vigilant army, there were all sorts of different kinds of folks around. Some wielding spears and donning turtle shells on their backs, others like Shiro with ears and tails and even fangs of werewolves, feathered harpies whose talons looked lethal enough to kill a shark, and even dwarves armored with fine metal from top to bottom.

A ragtag group of people, all coming together to fight one monster which has been blighting their landlubbing surface for who knows how long. An honorable cause, but as they say, there’s no honor amongst thieves. That’s why proving yourself right now would be pivotal to your aligned goals.

“By order of Her Majesty, Princess Allura, I have been bestowed the task of ridding the quintessence raged dragon of the north. Because of this, we can not allow magic-wielders to join our group. I know Peg is not your real name - “ you grinned cheekily, not at all affected by the admonishing tone in the truth, “ - but if you use quintessence to fight, I’m afraid you’re of no use to us on the frontline.”

“Nay, I t’aint one for hocus-pocus witchcraft. You start mutterin’ curses and voodoo gobbledee gook, I scatter like-a flock o’ gulls fleeing from the slimy tentacles of kraken itself.” With a nod to the paper, you continued, “If I were to be speakin’ the truth, matey, I’m here fer the gold. Nothing more, nothing less. Anything to do with yer kingdoms rubbin’ elbows with ya fancy silks are of no concern to me.”

Shiro leaned back, arms crossed, then tilted his head just a bit, not at all unlike a puppy trying to understand some strange phenomenon. He wasn’t a fresh soldier from the pack. Battle scars under his fur showed that this isn’t the first time he’s faced a foe bigger than himself. It was only by his strong connection with his righteous virtues and a debt owed to Altea, more specifically Honerva, that he was appointed captain of this draconic crusade.

But his trust in his instincts were always on point. That made him invaluable and right now? With watching you smile that smarmy smile, his instincts told him that, yes, you were good. Rogues were a recipe for trouble, add that with the lot of pirates, and you get chaos. An ace up the sleeve, a random boon that benefits all based on the law of uncertainty. Shiro would take a draw rather than a loss any day.

And he’s dealt with pirates before. Closely, in fact.

The Paladin rubbed his chin with his prosthetic arm, the smooth surface of quintessence run mechanism offering a small calm for his thoughts. “Where’s the rest of your crew?”

“The wind in the sails took ‘em to the sea. I chose t’stay. ‘Tis only a matter of time before this dragon o’ yers starts roosting in other lands and I ain’t one for facing more monsters below and above the waves,” your voice trailed off for a moment before your eyes snapped from his arm to his face, “Nor am I lookin’ to be noosed by yer masters. If this alliance can not be, I’ll be on me merry way an’ ye won’t need ‘ta worry about one more pirate on your plate.”

But he was no fool. Word of the growing stress between kingdoms reached even overseas in the last decade. News about the alliance between Altea and Daibazaal falling out with King Alfor’s death, or rather, “assassination.” It was rumored that the Galra leaders unleashed an ancient dragon, created of pure quintessence, to attack the Elven empire and cripple the nation. After the destruction which nearly annihilated the royal family, it fled to the Kral Zera holy lands, never to be seen again.

Until now. Shiro repeatedly told himself that perhaps this was just a dead end, a fairy tale told to keep kids safe and sound inside. A story meant to induce fear that the evil dragon can sense wrongdoings and will come eat you to gain more power. All leads he followed led to different answers, and this may be an unaccomplished quest in the end, but if that were the case, then he will serve to protect the innocent at the highest cost.

“The Black Mane work with several nations, not just one. If you can prove to be useful, be battle ready when needed, and are willing to help all, then consider yourself part of the pact,” he pulled out a folded paper from his pouch then slid it to you, “It’s a contract, rules to be followed while commissioned by the guild.”

“Yer giving me a set o’ rules?”

Now, this is where he let slip a grin hiding familiar mischief, “They’re more like guidelines should you choose to follow them, for your safety and the successful completion of this quest.”

“Tell me something, cap’n,” you asked, eyes reading but mindful of his attention, “Have ye ever broken one o’ them rules of yers?”

“Yes.” Straight answer with a tone of finality, a tone of that is all I’m saying on the matter.

You signed across the line, temporarily giving your time and life over to this noble cause, “Then do we have an accord?”

Shiro shook hands with pirates before. He’s taken more hands before, too. But what most people would suspiciously think about making deals with pirates were wrong. Honor and loyalty weren’t definitions they followed by their very soul, not like he did, yet as he firmly grasped your offered hand in agreement, his instincts told him one jarring fact.

This deal was empty, but oddly promising.

#spacestories #lotor x reader #hoist the colors!!!

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sabraeal · 5 years ago

Text

Family, Duty, Honor [Part 2]

Part 1 A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones AU

Obiyuki Week, Day 2 Avarice | Charity

Rumors had always clung to Miss, thick on the air like incense in a bordello.

A natural daughter of the Reach, tongues had wagged, as loose as any whore. A merchant’s girl from the Stormlands. Some minor lord’s get from the Vale. A Lord Paramount’s bastard.

That last one had been enough to worry the Hand, to make him lower himself and exchange Westerosi gold for Braavosi iron. Obi had nearly laughed himself sick watching the Lord of the Rock act as if he were shelling out dragons to put his cock in some sweet flower in Flea’s Bottom instead of partaking in the proud Lannister tradition of paying other people to solve their problems.

After all, what use was shitting gold if a man still had to do his own dirty work?

There had been more amusing ones too, a gray sister who tore off her veil to see the prince’s beauty, or, a child of the forest, come out of her tree for love of him. He’d liked those; they’d shown creativity at least, a flare for drama rarely seen outside the street acts of King’s Landing. But by far the most popular had been, some farmhand’s by-blow, eager to fuck her way to princess.

Even in those early days, when being his miss’s shadow had meant curling himself into the flowering hedgerows of the Red Keep’s gardens to listen to Master clumsily make love and her take his honeyed words as overtures of friendship, that had been the old sawhorse -- a common whore who would spread her legs to anyone, if only they’d promise her a title. It had stayed with her until she left, until she’d turned south under His Majesty’s advisement and made herself a name in Oldtown, one that didn’t involve the prince at all.

But it’s not that one that comes to mind now as her palm burns on his chest, as her wide, pleading eyes sets his blood to boiling.

Look at that hair, a man had said once as Miss had swept by him in the Keep. She could only be a Red Woman.

He believes it now; how else could she set him slight with a touch, with those words --

That’s why there will have to be a babe.

“Miss,” he breathes, though there’s no air in this room, every bit of it burned away by her boldness. “You don’t...you don’t mean...”

There’s no space between them, but she leans in further still, her eyes sparing him no quarter. “I need you, Obi.”

She’s never spoken those words to him, save for those guilty moments when he has taken himself in hand, imagining a time in which there is no Master to come between them, but --

But she says them now for all the wrong reasons, not from desire but from duty. Fear.

He should be grateful for even that; it’s more that he deserves, but --

Obi is not a good man. Miss may have tamed him, have taught him how to sit and stay and come to heel, but he does not share what is his. And if he is to have her, he wants...

Too much. “If you miss Ryuu so much, Miss, we could just send for him.”

The grin fits ill on his face, like a white cloak on his shoulders, but it does the job. Miss snatches back her hand like she’s the one who’s been scalded, cheeks puffed with annoyance. Maybe there’s a little fish in her after all. “I’m being serious.”

“As am I.” The words come out on a desperate rasp, and by the gods, it’s worse than being naked, having to talk about any of this. “I know you think this is a...solution, but you can’t mean you want me to -- that you want to get yourself...”

For once, his silvered tongue fails him. From the finest beds in King’s Landing to the dustiest corners of Essos, honey’s dripped from his mouth and eased the way for a great many silks on their journey to the floor, but -- but here he is, tripping over himself just to keep them on.

“There’s no other way.” He’s used to her grimness now, to the way her mouth no longer rests in a smile but a grimace, but the way her shoulders round, the way she is so small next to him -- he has never seen her so defeated. “We can’t leave without my uncle’s support, or else...”

Or else all of this will all be as much use as a penny in a whorehouse.

Master’s tenuous grip on the Stormlands and the Reach are all he’s got; they need Riverrun, or else this dance of dragons will be a short one. His only other ally may be the Crown Princess of Dorne, but Sunspear never overreaches itself, not for a Targaryen. Not for no reason.

“Miss...” He wants to tell her to run, to take his hand and forget all this, to sail across the Narrow Sea and lose herself in the press of Braavos or Myr or even Pentos and forget the ever-turning wheel of the Seven Kingdoms, but --

But she would never do that. Even if her heart did not beat in lockstep with his, Miss would never abandon Master. In a kingdom where brother fought brother over bloodline, she was the only one who would not turn away from a challenge, not to save a friend.

“I know you have your...hesitations,” she manages, haltingly, her gaze dropping to inspect the duvet. Unlike the one he’d had in Oldtown, this one is hardly worn, velvet plush and bright under her fingers. “But I’m sure that there wouldn’t be any...hardship for you in--”

“Hardship? Me?” he coughs. Daughter of a bar she might be, but she must not have had a very complete education if she thinks he couldn’t, that he wouldn’t--

“Only the work of a few moments, if Garrack told me the right of it.”

Mother and Maiden, of course Garrack had told her these things.

“Miss, I know what work is required,” he assures her, holding his hand between them as if it might keep any of this from happening. “It’s you who would be -- be--”

Carrying a child. His child. Nine months of it, until she pushed out a squalling babe and--

And called it Master’s. He scrubs a hand down his face. If ever she had to pick someone to take his place...

“No one will be fooled,” he croaks, clinging to reason. “You haven’t seen Master in...”

Months, he had meant to say. But he adds them all up in his head, and it comes out to years. A romance through ravens.

“A secret tryst,” she tells him again, and he’s shocked how easily the lies fall from her lips. His own Miss, who had always scolded him for half-truths and omissions. “Maybe before I left Oldtown. Or--” he can see gears turning in her head, crunching numbers with as much deftness as the Iron Bank-- “Maybe we met on the road, while he campaigned, or -- something.”

“Master has been sequestered in Storm’s End for months now,” Obi reminds her. “You think everyone will believe that he slipped up to the Westerlands for a quick tumble?”

Her cheeks flush, chin ducking as she says, “They’ll believe anything of a prince.”

That’s true enough; the songs had Targaryens doing nothing short of turning into a dragon themselves for a good fuck, but that’s just -- lore, just a hungry minstrel’s way of making a few stags off a melody with naught else to it. But for folk to believe it --

“If you were to --” he can barely think the word “conceive,” let alone say it -- “make a child now, you couldn’t be certain of it for weeks, and even if Master left Storm’s End when you left Oldtown--”

“I’ll tell my uncle when he returns.” She drags her gaze back to his, and it’s determined, not a spot of doubt in her. A dangerous look for her to be wearing, in his experience. “It’s not a short ride to King’s Landing, and Izana won’t be quick to see him with Zen just across the bay.”

“Aye, Miss,” he groans, falling back onto his pillows. It’s oddly satisfying, with them being so soft, though down doesn’t fly everywhere as he’d hoped. “Any fool can count.”

“Babes are always late,” she informs him primly, tucking her legs beneath her. “And everyone’s always so eager to believe in the sensational.”

Now there’s more bitter tone than any he’s heard his miss make.

Obi opens his eyes to a squint, curious. Her jaw juts stubbornly, mouth purse in a moue of annoyance. It’s inconvenient how endearing it is, how much he’d just like to kiss it off her--

“It beggars belief,” he says instead, earning himself a glare. “Even smallfolk won’t believe Master rode across the Reach during wartime to meet you in the Westerlands to make a bas--” he bites down on the word-- “a natural child.”

“He married me. In secret.” She says it this time without batting an eyelash, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and for a brief moment even he doubts that it is false. “And I do not have to fool everyone. Only my uncle. And he...”

Her lips wrap tight around the thought, but the words hang between them. Because he will believe what he wants to believe. He might throw in with His Majesty now, but a rightful prince of the line as a grand-nephew...

Few men could resist the lure of being Hand of the King. And with a simple accident, a regent besides. And so, so many accidents may happen in war time.

Obi huffs, head tipping back against the pillow. “He will not, when the babe comes looking like a man from Asshai.”

A cautious hand, like that of a kitten, presses on his chest. “Is that where you are from?”

His eyes open to see her perched above him, all curiosity. “Now who isn’t being serious?”

Her mouth curls into a smile, soft and secret, and for a moment they could be back in Oldtown, her kneeling beside him on his bunk, laughing over nothing at all --

“It won’t matter what he looks like.” The words are soft, a caress, and he nearly squirms out of his skin at the sound of it. He’s used to bruising punches and hard fucks, not this -- this gentleness. “The war will be over before anyone will even know.”

His breath rasps from his chest, and there’s no way to tell her that is not how wars work, and especially not the way dragons dance. Perhaps in the maesters’ dusty tomes those clashes had been compared to flashes in a pan, to wildfire, but --

Nine months is not enough.

“It could be a girl,” he says instead, trying to ignore the way his heart beats wildly beneath her hand, to ignore the certainty that he knows how this conversation will end. He does a poor job if it, half hard under the wool of his trouser. It’s only inexperience that she doesn’t know its there. “What then?”

The question gives her pause, at least. She blinks, slow, as if the thought is new to her, that she had never considered it would not be a boy, a proper heir to the Iron Throne --

If only it was not borne by a bastard’s seed. “Girl or boy, any babe would tie us.”

He grunts, unconvinced. “So long as it looks right.”

“It won’t matter--”

“Miss.” He says it soft, barely more than a breath, but it still her. “You of all people should know it does.”

Silence settles over them, but the quiet does not last for long. He would choke the life out of any man who called his mistress a bitch, but for all that, she can never drop a bone lest she’s gotten the last of its marrow.

“I understand,” she begins, haltingly, “that you may not want to -- to help me, since I am so...inexperienced..”

He jolts up onto his elbows, heat swarming his cheeks. “That is not what I said,” he growls. “Not at all.”

She shifts, just slightly, on her knees, hand spasming on his chest. “Or maybe you do not wish to hurt me when you take my maidenhead--”

He grabs her wrist, feeling the thready pulse beneath as he yanks her toward him. She only just catches herself, her other hand splaying wide across his chest, so pale against the black of his shirt.

“Oh, Miss,” he purrs, far too close, able to see the glint of gold in her eyes and smell the sweet scent of hay on her skin. “With me, you’d have no pain at all.”

He’s close enough to hear her suck in a ragged breath, canting her head toward his in question. “Then why won’t you?”

Every part of him goes still. There is no reason, none at all, save that he loves her. Save that part of him is selfish, is small and petty and wants only to lay with her if she is his, if she loves him in return and wants to bear his child. His child, not Master’s, not the heir to the Iron Throne -- and --

And there is no way to tell her that would not expose him for the worse kind of fool, a Florian with a Jonquil who will never love him --

And so he kisses her instead.

#obiyukiweek19 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #Day 2 #my fic #game of thrones AU #ans #LISTEN i meant to get to the sexy stuff but YOU KNOW HOW IT IS #i guess this whole thing will be three parts total #but i felt that this was an...important conversation to happen #since you know Obi would throw literally everything between her and his dick #because he's got THE FEELINGS and he doesn't want things being COMPLICATED #and she's asking him to MAKE A BABY and basically COMMIT FRAUD #and you'll notice not one of them thinks about what ZEN will say #so we're already making some bad decisions here shirayuki #I WONDER WHY XD

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