#The Assassin and the Desert

[acourtofquestions]

So, I (of course😂) have a LOT of thoughts after finishing The Assassin’s Blade — heading into Heir of Fire, so I still don’t fully know the series… this is current non-spoiler thoughts — but let’s get into it:

First off let’s deal with a big one: Celaena and Arobynn.

…Mostly “big” because their entire relationship is so severely f*ed up it take’s a LOT to understand… However, the biggest thing that keeps sticking out to me is the fact that it does makes sense (I am NOT saying it’s right, or healthy; to be clear it is most definitely NOT) it is a disturbingly realistic portrayal of what THAT kind & level of abuse does to a person.

It is infuriatingly painful to watch; as the reader you can clearly see the issue; you want to scream at Celaena to RUN already, get out, NOW; you feel for Sam’s frustration at times becoming fury & terror at the fact she does not stop him.

Yet, it is not a lack of knowing or agreeing with this that makes Celaena stay; it isn’t even wanting to stay, often she confirms the opposite; it’s the fact that she is utterly terrified. At times Arobynn makes her revert into a terrified state of childlike fawning. All centered around the idea; I can only seem to explain using this quote (because Shakespeare has nothing on Taylor Swift; though the context of this is 100% NON romantic; that question mark on their relationship is utterly skin crawling) “Who’s going to know me?” if not Arobynn who is going to know Aelin Galathynius ever even existed?

… Everything Celaena has become she has been (falsely) taught into believing was “Arobynn given”; even her notoriety as the prized “Adarlan’s Assassin” is not by her mark but by his word. He has ensured at every opportunity that she does not forget it; that she feels small & one breath away from being prey, that she does not feel sure of herself or anything aside from him (and even that is a pendulum) that she is haunted by her past; and never forgets what it is to lose EVERYTHING. She lost everything. In that she had to destroy every piece of the girl she was; the one that had a family she loved; the one that had a home, a country, a purpose; anything she was before the one Arobynn pulled out of the river. And if not him; does anyone even remember? — Does it all cease to be nothing more than forgotten; her grief, her love, Aelin herself; is it any different than if Aelin had drowned in the river?

— This is Celaena’s obsession with being remembered; on the surface it appears shallow, selfish, full of nothing more than pride & arrogance alone; in truth it has more to do with fear (a key point of her character’s driving mindset) & purpose (a key point of humanity/morality).

… How does she make any sense of all she has done & become at Arobynn’s hand; every life she has taken, every terrible thing she has done; if not for him?

And this is why for so long she stays; because she is more afraid of the unknown & so tired of loss; it feels much safer to be known, to know the loss that will come, to hurt with familiar pain, to exist within a tether to his realm; then to feel as if she is risking everything over again.

[thxm8y]

Trying To Convince You To Read A Book Based On It's Aesthetic:

The Assassin and the Desert

( The Assassin's Blade ) - Throne of Glass 0.3

[inlovewithquotes]

“So,” Mikhail said, shattering her thoughts as he pointed a fork at her, “when your master beat the living daylights out of you, did you actually deserve it?”

Ansel shot him a dark look, and Celaena straightened. Even Ilias was now listening, his lovely eyes fixed on her face. But Celaena stared right at Mikhail. “I suppose it depends on who is telling the story.”

Ansel chuckled.

“If Arobynn Hamel is telling the story, then yes, I suppose I did deserve it. I cost him a good deal of money—a kingdom’s worth of riches, probably. I was disobedient and disrespectful, and completely remorseless about what I did.”

She didn’t break her stare, and Mikhail’s smile faltered.

“But if the two hundred slaves that I freed are telling the story, then no, I suppose I didn’t deserve it.”

None of them were smiling anymore. “Holy gods,” Ansel whispered. True silence fell over their table for a few heartbeats.

Celaena resumed eating. She didn’t feel like talking to them after that.

-The Assassin And The Desert

[acourtofquestions]

Also has very Red Desert dance vibes from Celaena with Ansel and the Silent Assassins in The Assassin and the Desert from The Assassin’s Blade

[v4mpfolk]

doodles of these three !!

i’m on the romantic route of the read so i’m currently on the assassin’s blade before i read queen of shadowssssss

I read the assassin and the desert last night and I LOVEDDDD ITTTTT the books been hard to read but this novella omfgggggggg

ANSEL I LOVE UUUU💔💔💔💔

so excited to keep reading

[fantastic-nonsense]

insane how Red Robin is "the loner Tim Drake book" when he had friends and family just popping out of the woodwork like daisies asking him to come home and enjoy hugs like he used to 😭

[wikipediapictures]

Apiomerus cazieri

[lavena]

I really really really want to see child of the sun Damian.

Damians smile never needed to light up a room cause they were never dark.

His presence never needed to warm others because the sun was so throughly ingrained in them, so deep within their bones that even the frost covered mountains couldn't take that from them.

Every sunset was spent at the highest point of Nanda Parbat watching the sun set and soaking in it's last rays.

He never new how much he loved the sun till he was suddenly in Gotham.

A city with beautiful clouds and sprawling infrastructure, it lit up the sky with false light.

A bat symbol so easy to see because there was nothing to outshine it.

No need for sunglasses because the light was never harsh.

There was always a dark corner to hide in or a gloomy alcove to perch from.

The perfect place for someone born to be in the shadows. Born for silence and the dark of night.

But he missed the sun.

He was cold now, his bones never felt warm anymore. There was no soaking in what wasn't there.

Even visiting Smallville was only a slight repreve. The heat wasn't as intense as he was used to. Not as strong and all encompassing.

Coming at you from the sun first and then the reflection as it heated the floor and made everything warm no matter how far you moved.

The rain never smelled as good.

It wasn't as refreshing, there was no sigh of relief as the first monsoons came, no bliss from cracking open the windows to get the good cool air.

Now it was just sticky and heavy.

He missed the sun.

He missed the warmth

[acourtofquestions]

Starting the Assassin’s Blade:

Fully aware that I am going to fall in love with Sam Cortland; enjoy the story & character arc so much that I forget I know the ending… 🚨And then be consequently utterly wrecked when he inevitably dies… yay🤦🏼‍♀️😅🖤☠️.

[ophierian-vp]

[aths-art]

Dune Presence Wraith!

My submission for this year's Killer Outfit Contest.

[hellagator]

Starlight assassin (Commission 2024).

[galasgamingcorner]

AC Origins Scenery | The White Desert

[anithemonsterlover]

Something New

Something fun I wanted to write! Erik/one of my OCs i thought could be engaging. It's an OC from my own story i have, away from POTO, but if you guys are interested i wouldl write more...I like their interactions...and this is more kerik than intended...but imagine this erik is like...in his 20s

--

"Silent again."

The figure had entered into the tent, irrupting him from his thoughts.

He turned, used to those flickering golden eyes, a wave of familiarity striking. But beneath that glance stood a pleasant face. And well, that had been, from the start, the man's most alluring aspect, ever since Erik met him.

But Dal's good looks were his weapon, as much as Erik's own monstrosity, he reasoned. The Shah had asked him to coordinate with this independent man to locate the whereabouts of the previous Vizier, who had fled the court under unknown circumstances. Erik was the new sensation, so the Shah thought practical for him to work with his original "shadow", a "blight youth", "the desert fox", in his words. Erik guessed he needed allies, in a way. Yet...

The boy got closer to the makeshift table with the fruit bowl, and took a peach. Insolent, ask first.

But Dal seemed to read his mind in that moment. He shrugged as he waved the peach around.

"I haven't eaten the whole day." And bit into the fruit, his skin a similar hue to the peach. Erik had initially found that curious...Everything pertaining to Dal's visage marked him as different. The pink skin, the golden eyes, the orange hair...If he wanted to play target, he could easily win...And therefore, working as an assassin seemed a bit of a contradiction.

Although maybe that's why he was dressed head to foot in black, even covering his head with a scarf at night. Erik found the similarities to his wardrobe amusing at first. See, Daroga? My fashion tastes are not that unusual.

But the initial droll would last for seconds, as he recalled the first night they met for the mission. Neither of them had talked beforehand...Probably not even knew of each other, if Erik's account could testify.

He saw the smug smile carved on his face and he felt a feline sensation of guardedness.

"Is my job threatened?"

"Only if you see it that way, boy."

The smile vanished in that moment, as fast as lightning.

"How old are you to call me that? Decrepit? I'm not a boy."

And that first impression had done little to sway him to his enchantments. Back in the present, the golden eyes flickered with defiance.

"Fine. But ask first before you indulge yourself."

Dal lowered his head, in a parodic fashion. Erik would be insulted...Would, if he was in any authoritarian position. But alas, the throne fit for him didn't exist. Just makeshift tent, in the middle of the desert, on the road for a wanted criminal.

But his face was striking, much like his was...In the opposite direction. Both would star prominently in paintings, tho, he reasoned. The Fallen Angel and Death, perhaps, holding on amiably....Incidentally, being a reflection of their current predicament. He wasn't sure the Shah would be generous to this deserter once he returned to court.

"Forgive me, your grace." Alright, now it delved into mockery.

"Hold your tongue."

And he showed his tongue! Well, he had to give credit; Dal would know when to be cocky and when not. Of course, based on the little glances Erik had stolen of him in court, he never behaved like that with the Shah.

Of course, tho, being like that with Erik, of all people...

Dal then stretched and sat on a pillow, continuing with the peach.

"Ya know, i don't think we've started on a good foot. Let's try to bond again." He titled his head and smiled. Erik then noticed his tongue dangerously edged between his teeth.

He was startled at the suggestion. What to say to that?

"...What do you suppose?"

"...We're working together." the teasing paused. "If we want our mission to succeed we must share the same goals. I don't think your wish is to return to the kingdom to a cell."

"...No."

"...Well, then, let's start...I am Dal."

"...Erik."

"...Only Erik?"

He arched an eyebrow. "You're too curious for your own good."

He grinned. "Curiosity enrichens this cat."

"Or leads him to an early grave."

He chuckled, and kept stretching. Attention seeker, is he...

"Dalar, actually, but friends call me Dal."

"...I'm a friend?"

"...I want to believe so."

He finally chuckled at that. if he was younger, more naive, he might have felt hopeful at the open invitation...But he could see the red strings around Dal's words.

"You're not from Persia."

"Neither are you."

Touché. He wondered if he would be interested in displaying his past...Although maybe he could be reserved...Much like him.

"...What brought you here?"

"I could ask the same to you."

Alright, he wouldn't bend.

"Seems a little dangerous, dear Dal, to be an assassin with your...mesmerizing features."

"Not the first time I got that compliment." He laughed.

"Your hair stands out a lot."

"That's what the hood is for."

"But...amongst a sea of black...Red just..." A dye would be essential. But Dal's shrug showed a certain arrogance.

"Everyone's got their signature, this one's mine."

Well, alright, he'll get his throat slit any day...

"...The Shah has you in high esteem. 'The desert fox', he calls you."

"Is it surprising? I do a job well done, I get credited. Nothing to get wowed." He seemed annoyed at that.

"Why do you work for him?" Erik, feeling more secure, sat in front of him in a spare cushion. His senses urged him to guard his distance, stand up, but...

"Good pay." He arched an eyebrow. "Strange you ask me that."

He noticed right now...He had yellow eyes...Just like him...Huh...Well, he guessed the eyes weren't as haunting...In the proper face.

"A foreigner in the service of the shah of Persia" he insisted. "There's more to it than that."

"I tend to not tie myself up. It's a hassle." He shrugged, impatient. "Better to open yourself for the world...Somewhere i'll find work, and my skills will be appreciated."

Hah, curious ways of describing his work...Erik thought similarly.

Still, it sounded either like ignorant, headcharging stubborn youth...Or a man taking a decision and sticking to it...And Erik was aging himself with these dumb comparisons...Dal possibly was only 5 or so years younger than him.

He lowered his glance. He could spot the luck oozing from the words...But he didn't seem arrogant, at least. Just a little impatient. But...He wasn't merely a green boy, either. His figure, amidst the lazy stretches and superficial smiles, hid competence, coldness, dedication.

He liked that.

"You're very self assured, maybe too much for your age."

He sat still, cat-like, observing the horizon.

"I'm not a boy." He ate the peach. Erik noted a silver glint near his leg, under the robe...And Dal noted his eyes. "Curious?"

Erik looked away "I was just...-"

He chuckled again. "People have said ruder things." He slid his voice. "So..."

Erik titled his head...Yes, a metallic toe looked back at him. "...How did it happen?"

He was expecting for Dal's reaction there to change, and be somber...But, while the smile diminished, the air of nonchalance still followed him. He seemed at ease with Erik.

"Dumb mistakes."

He made a noise. "...Care to reveal?"

"If first you reveal your face."

Touché. The fox was true to his nature, and would not drop its slyness. Still, Erik appreciated that he hadn't touched the subject of the mask, in all the time they spent together...Till now.

"Why the mask?"

"...Dumb mistake." God's dumb mistake, rather...But possibly God also played to have Dal lose his leg, if one could passively believe in the concept of fate.

And he was close. Insolently close. Recklessly close. Foolishly close...Invitingly close.

The peach's scent was printed on him...And his eyes searched for him, searching that connection. Erik raised a putrid hand, maybe to rebelliously play with one of those firey locks...

But Dal turned away, towards the flap of the tent.

"Well...If you need me...You can make out the color of my tent." He paused before leaving. "Or you can just wait."

Normally he would growl at the scent of an order, but Dal's voice carried a light edge that would lull him into complacency.

Well...He had another aspect to look forward these years in Persia, he imagined.

[martyrmarked]

there should have been at least 2+ assassination attempts on the inquisitor

[acourtofquestions]

Okay, where’s the Assassin’s Blade angsty fan-art? - for Sam being held back while Arobynn beats Celaena