#The Siege of Loyalty House

[verecunda]

Somewhat amusing side-effect of reading about an era that I'm not usually into - in this case, the English Civil War - is that any prior knowledge I do have is almost certainly derived from Horrible Histories. Case in point: upon encountering a mention of Sir Arthur Aston, my immediate reaction is: "Ohhh yeah, he's the guy who was beaten to death with his own wooden leg, wasn't he?" I don't know a thing about this man's life or career, but I do know that. XD

[morgan--reads]

Summary: A history of the sieges against Basing House during the first English Civil War. 

Quote: “That God was angry with his people was evident. But whose side was he on and what did he want—peace or more blood?”

My rating: 3.5/5.0   Goodreads: 4.07/5.0 

Review: An engaging and well-written account of a dramatic series of events in the English Civil War. If you don’t have any background knowledge of the Civil War, this might be a bit of a reach. Childs does give some background information but the focus is truly on Basing House, a microhistory that gives a lot of insight into the devastation and the difficulties of the war. Childs sticks closely to the sources, which makes for rigorous history, but also means that there is an emotional distance between the reader and the people who lived the history, as we don’t have diaries or letters for most of them. There are lots of interesting, and sometimes bizarre, details that light up the story, but the human element is sometimes missing.

[novaursa]

The Flames We Carry

- Summary: Ser Criston Cole expected for Rhaenys and Meleys to appear over Rook's Rest. To Gwayne's horror, Rhaenyra sent her sister instead: you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Rhaeyra's younger sister and is bonded to Silverwing. These events happen after Skyfall. If you want to read all the parts in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content, but there are visual descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 3 712

- A/N: this was scheduled to be posted tomorrow, but I've decided post extra today. Enjoy.

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

Ser Gwayne Hightower had always been a man torn between loyalty and desire, but never more so than in the days leading up to the siege at Rook's Rest. The tension between him and Ser Criston Cole had grown sharper since that fateful day when he let you—the Princess, Y/N—slip through his grasp before their march on Duskendale. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his, the taste of your lips lingering like a ghostly memory, a sweet torment. You had been his time and time again, even if only in stolen moments, and each encounter had deepened the scars on his heart.

Gwayne knew he should be focusing on the battle ahead, yet his thoughts strayed back to you, his mind replaying that night over and over. The look in your eyes when you realized he would let you go, when you understood the depth of his feelings despite all the bitterness that lingered between your Houses. He had set you free, knowing full well it was an act of treason in all but name, and yet he would do it again if it meant sparing you the horrors to come.

But now, at Rook's Rest, everything was escalating rapidly. Ser Criston's scorpion ballistas and archers were poised in ambush, waiting for the dragon they expected: Rhaenys on Meleys. The war council had been clear, and Gwayne had heard it all through gritted teeth—Aemond and Aegon would flank her on Vhagar and Sunfyre, trapping her in dragonfire and steel. It was a ruthless plan, one that made his stomach churn. He had sworn to protect his family, his king, and yet all he could think about was you.

The skies darkened, a shadow sweeping over the encampment. The men tensed, eyes raised to the heavens as the flap of wings grew louder. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked up, expecting the crimson scales of Meleys. But what he saw instead made his blood run cold.

Silverwing.

The graceful, silvery-grey dragon, once ridden by Queen Alysanne, now bonded to you. Gwayne’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. This was not supposed to happen. It was not supposed to be you in the skies above, facing down two monstrous dragons with only the loyal Silverwing at your side. Panic clawed at his throat, his mind racing. He could see it in Criston's eyes too—the slight widening, the realization that their ambush had just become a slaughter. Not for Rhaenys, but for you.

“No…” The word slipped from Gwayne’s lips before he could stop it. Without a second thought, he rushed toward the nearest scorpion, where soldiers prepared to take aim at Silverwing. His vision tunneled, anger and fear boiling together in his veins. He couldn’t let this happen—not to you.

"Stand down!" Gwayne shouted at the soldiers, shoving one aside with enough force to send the man sprawling. The crew looked at him in confusion, but Gwayne didn’t care. He grabbed hold of the crank, making it impossible for them to load the bolt.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?!” Criston’s voice was a venomous hiss as he stalked toward Gwayne, eyes blazing with fury. “You’re sabotaging the plan! Move, or I’ll have you—”

Gwayne spun around, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. “I won’t let you do this, Criston. Not to her.”

Criston’s lip curled in disgust. “Her? You would betray your king, your House, for a traitorous whore who—"

The sound of steel rang out as Gwayne drew his sword, slashing at the scorpion mechanism, rendering it useless. The soldiers scattered, unwilling to get caught in the confrontation between two knights who had both earned their deadly reputations. Criston’s eyes narrowed, and in the blink of an eye, his sword was in his hand, the tip leveled at Gwayne’s chest.

“You’ll die for this treachery, Hightower,” Criston spat, the words laced with venom.

“I would die a thousand times before I let you kill her,” Gwayne growled back, his voice low and dangerous. “I won’t let you harm her.”

Above them, the roar of dragons filled the air as Silverwing engaged with Sunfyre and Vhagar. Dragonfire crackled like thunder, the heat from the flames casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. You were up there, fighting for your life, for your cause. Gwayne’s heart ached with every fiery burst, knowing that each moment could be your last.

Criston lunged, and Gwayne barely parried the strike in time. The two knights clashed, steel against steel, each strike filled with desperation and fury. Gwayne fought with everything he had, driven by the need to protect you, even if it meant cutting down one of his own.

“Do you think she cares for you, Gwayne?!” Criston taunted between strikes. “She’s a dragonrider, a princess—she’ll never be yours! You’re a fool!”

“I know what I am,” Gwayne snarled, knocking Criston’s sword aside and slamming his shoulder into the other man’s chest, sending him stumbling back. “But I also know what I feel. And I’ll not stand by and let you murder her.”

Criston recovered quickly, rage twisting his features as he advanced again. “She chose Daemon over you! The Rogue Prince—do you think she’ll remember your name when she’s ash?”

Gwayne roared in fury, his blade a blur as he pressed the attack. The sounds of battle, of dragons shrieking and flames roaring, were deafening, but all Gwayne could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the desperate need to get to you, to save you. But with every second that passed, his hope dwindled, and fear gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

Then, the ground trembled, a shockwave of heat and force rippling across the battlefield as a massive burst of dragonfire erupted nearby. Gwayne staggered, the distraction costing him as Criston’s sword sliced across his side. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to fall. He couldn’t afford to fall—not when you needed him.

But as the flames subsided, a silhouette emerged through the smoke—Silverwing, descending, with you astride her. Your eyes, burning with determination and fury, locked onto the scene below: Criston standing over a wounded Gwayne, ready to deliver the killing blow.

“Y/N!” Gwayne shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

You didn’t hesitate. With a command, Silverwing unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, forcing Criston to leap back, narrowly avoiding being consumed by the flames. In the brief reprieve, Gwayne stumbled to his feet, clutching his side.

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The memory of that last kiss, of your shared moments, hung between you like an unspoken vow. Gwayne knew he had only seconds before the battle resumed, but in those few heartbeats, he saw the truth in your eyes—the love that had never truly died, the bond that still connected you, even through war and betrayal.

But there was no time for words. With a final, lingering look, you turned Silverwing toward the sky, preparing for the next wave of the fight. And as you ascended into the chaos once more, Gwayne knew he would fight until his last breath to protect you, even if the whole world stood against him.The battle raged on, but in that moment, Gwayne Hightower’s heart belonged to only one—you.

The battlefield below Rook’s Rest was a symphony of chaos and death, the sky a canvas painted with fire and blood. Gwayne could only watch in helpless agony as you and Silverwing clashed in the heavens with Sunfyre and Aegon, two dragons locked in a deadly dance of tooth and claw. Overhead, the monstrous shadow of Vhagar circled like a vulture, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every screech of agony, every roar of defiance, was a knife twisting deeper into Gwayne’s chest.

On the ground, Criston Cole barked orders, his eyes fixed on the battle above. The soldiers scrambled, trying to reload the scorpions, but the dragonfire raining down made their task near impossible. Bolts flew haphazardly, striking neither dragon nor rider, only adding to the carnage below as men screamed, burning alive in dragonflame. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his ears, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the clash in the sky.

Silverwing and Sunfyre circled each other in a blur of flashing claws and snapping jaws, the air thick with the scent of burning flesh and blood. Gwayne could see the desperation in the way you leaned into every attack, urging Silverwing forward with a fury that matched his own. Aegon, though armored in golden scales and atop his mighty Sunfyre, was losing ground; he was not the rider you were, and Sunfyre, for all his pride, was no match for Silverwing’s speed and power.

“Hold fast, Sunfyre!” Aegon’s voice cut through the air, laced with both command and fear. But the king’s bravado was slipping. The once-proud Sunfyre shrieked in pain as Silverwing’s talons raked across his side, tearing through scales and flesh. Blood sprayed like rain, glistening in the sunlight before falling onto Criston’s soldiers below, causing them to scatter in panic.

Gwayne could feel his grip tightening on his sword as he watched, torn between the desire to cheer for your victory and the dread that this battle would consume you. Criston, standing nearby, had forgotten Gwayne entirely, his eyes alight with a mixture of awe and hatred. “If Sunfyre falls, so falls our king,” Criston muttered to himself, though Gwayne could hear the edge of panic in his voice.

But you would not give Sunfyre a moment of reprieve. Silverwing descended with fury, slamming into the golden beast with the force of a hurricane. The clash was brutal, teeth and claws tearing through scales, blood and fire mingling as the two dragons grappled. Sunfyre roared, a cry filled with both pain and rage, as Silverwing’s jaws clamped down on his wing.

“No!” Aegon’s scream echoed across the battlefield, his eyes wide with disbelief as Silverwing’s powerful muscles twisted and tore, shredding Sunfyre’s wing almost completely from its body. The golden dragon thrashed wildly, his flight faltering as the wing dangled uselessly by a thread of sinew and bone.

Gwayne’s breath caught in his throat, torn between elation and horror. You were winning, but at what cost? He knew what was coming next. Vhagar, that ancient beast of war, had been waiting for this moment. With a bellow that shook the very ground, the monstrous she-dragon descended like a nightmare from the skies, her jaws wide and hungry.

“Look out!” Gwayne shouted, knowing full well you couldn’t hear him from so far below. His heart thundered in his chest as Vhagar slammed into both Silverwing and Sunfyre with the force of a landslide. The three dragons collided in a tangle of limbs, scales, and teeth, a storm of rage and destruction. The impact was so fierce that Gwayne felt the ground shudder beneath him.

“No! No, no, no…” Gwayne whispered, his voice cracking as he watched the entangled dragons plummet toward the earth. You and Aegon were mere shadows against the backdrop of fire and smoke, barely visible as the dragons twisted and fell in a deadly spiral. Criston’s soldiers, caught between the descending juggernauts and their own fear, broke ranks, fleeing in every direction as the ground rushed up to meet the falling beasts.

Gwayne felt a cold dread settle in his bones as he watched you, desperately holding onto Silverwing’s saddle as the world blurred around you. You clung on with a ferocity that spoke to your will to survive, but against Vhagar’s ancient fury and Sunfyre’s desperate thrashing, even the mighty Silverwing was struggling.

Criston’s eyes were wild as he watched the battle unfold, his voice a harsh whisper of disbelief. “Vhagar will end it… she must end it…”

But Gwayne wasn’t watching Vhagar anymore. He was watching you. You were still fighting, still urging Silverwing to fight back, but the odds were overwhelming. Sunfyre’s golden scales were slick with blood, his roars more pitiful now as he struggled to right himself in the air. Silverwing’s wings beat furiously, trying to break free from Vhagar’s crushing grip, but the elder dragon’s jaws clamped down on Silverwing’s neck, dragging all three dragons toward the ground with terrifying speed.

The earth shook as the three dragons smashed into the battlefield, the impact sending up a cloud of dirt and debris. The sound was deafening—a sickening crunch of bone and screech of metal as the dragons collided with the earth. Gwayne’s heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes searching desperately through the smoke and dust for any sign of you.

“No…” he whispered, stumbling forward as if he could somehow reach you, somehow pull you from the wreckage of dragons and death. But even from here, he could see the carnage—Silverwing’s body twisted and battered, Sunfyre writhing in agony, and Vhagar looming above them all, a monstrous shadow of death.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield fell silent, every eye fixed on the wreckage of the fallen dragons. Gwayne’s breath was ragged, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of you amidst the chaos. The dust began to settle, revealing broken bodies, shattered armor, and the mangled forms of the dragons.

And then he saw you—barely visible, still moving. You crawled from beneath Silverwing’s wing, blood streaking your face, your expression fierce even in the face of such overwhelming odds. Gwayne’s heart leaped into his throat. You were alive. Against all the odds, you had survived the fall.

But the battle was far from over. Vhagar’s malevolent eyes fixed on you, a deep rumble echoing from her throat as she prepared to finish what she had started. Aegon, still clinging to the last shreds of his pride, shouted commands to Sunfyre, but the once-majestic dragon was crippled, struggling even to rise.

Gwayne turned to Criston, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Do something! Call them off—she’ll be slaughtered!”

But Criston’s eyes were cold, devoid of mercy. “It’s too late, Hightower. She made her choice.”

Before Gwayne could respond, a deafening roar split the air as Vhagar reared back, ready to unleash a final torrent of fire upon you and Silverwing. Gwayne’s breath caught, knowing he was powerless to stop what was coming. All he could do was watch in helpless horror as the monstrous she-dragon prepared to strike.

But in those last moments, your eyes locked onto his. Even from across the battlefield, Gwayne saw the fire in your gaze—the unyielding determination, the refusal to surrender, even in the face of certain death. It was a look that would be seared into his memory forever.

And as Vhagar’s jaws parted, ready to unleash death upon the field, Gwayne did the only thing he could—he prayed. For you, for Silverwing, and for the love that had been forged in the fires of war.

It felt like time itself had slowed, the moments stretching into agonizing eternity. His breath hitched as the flames began to build in Vhagar’s throat, the light of impending destruction flickering in her maw. It would be over in seconds—everything would be lost.

But then, with a burst of speed that took even Gwayne by surprise, Silverwing jolted forward, her wings beating with desperate strength. As Vhagar’s jaws parted to unleash her fiery death, Silverwing struck. The smaller, silvery dragon lunged at Vhagar’s exposed throat, her teeth sinking into the tender scales. Her bite was unrelenting, fueled by both fury and the need to protect you. Vhagar’s flame sputtered out in a roar of agony, the ancient beast thrashing wildly as she tried to shake off the determined Silverwing.

Gwayne’s eyes widened in awe and terror. Silverwing’s tail snapped like a whip, striking Vhagar’s head with a force that reverberated across the battlefield. The blow landed squarely on Vhagar’s eye, the sound of bone and scale cracking sickeningly loud. The she-dragon’s roar of pain was a monstrous, guttural cry that seemed to shake the heavens. Even Aemond, usually so composed in battle, shouted in fury and alarm, yanking hard on the reins to regain control of his wounded dragon.

Gwayne knew he had only moments to act. Blood was streaming down your face, and even from a distance, he could see the exhaustion and pain etched into your features. You laid on the ground, barely holding on to life as Silverwing thrashed against Vhagar’s deadly strength. It was a miracle you had survived this long, but that miracle was on the brink of shattering. Gwayne’s decision was made in an instant, despite the searing pain in his side and the chaos around him.

Nearby, a riderless horse whinnied in terror, its eyes rolling as it tried to flee the madness. Gwayne gritted his teeth, limping toward the panicked creature. “Easy, girl,” he rasped, wincing with every step. The horse reared, wild with fear, but Gwayne moved with surprising swiftness, grasping the reins and swinging himself into the saddle with a grunt of pain. Blood stained his tunic from his earlier wound, but he forced himself to push through it. There was no time to dwell on it—not when you were up there, fighting for your life.

“Where are you going, you fool?!” Criston’s voice rang out behind him, filled with fury. “You’ll die, Hightower! Come back!”

But Gwayne was deaf to Criston’s commands. He spurred the horse forward, urging it toward the burning wreckage of dragons, toward you. The horse resisted at first, terrified by the scent of blood and fire, but Gwayne was relentless, guiding it with strong hands and determined resolve. The animal finally obeyed, its hooves pounding against the earth as it charged through the smoke and debris.

Criston cursed behind him, and Gwayne heard the clatter of armor as the Lord Commander sprinted after him, but Gwayne didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching you.

Above, the struggle between Silverwing and Vhagar intensified. Aemond’s curses mingled with the roars of his dragon as he tried to force Vhagar to tear herself free, but Silverwing was like a vice, her jaws locked onto Vhagar’s throat. The she-dragon’s great wings buffeted the air, but even Vhagar, with all her size and strength, was struggling against the tenacity of her smaller opponent. Silverwing’s wings were shredded, her silvery scales bloodied, but she refused to let go. She was holding on not just for herself, but for you.

“Y/N!” Gwayne’s shout cut through the chaos as he neared the spot where you lay half-alive below Silverwing’s wing. He could see that you were barely conscious, your grip weak on your sword as you fought to stay awake. Desperation fueled his every move as he urged the horse closer, reaching out to you. “Hold on! I’m coming!”

Through the haze of pain, you blinked up at him, your eyes unfocused. “Gwayne?” Your voice was faint, tinged with disbelief. “You… you shouldn’t be here…”

“I’m not leaving you!” Gwayne snapped, his voice rough with emotion. With a final burst of strength, he dismounted down beside you, reaching for your arm. The moment his hand grasped yours, you seemed to come back to life, your eyes clearing just enough to recognize him fully.

“Gwayne… you need to run,” you gasped, wincing as another jolt of pain coursed through you. “She’s going to kill us all…”

“Not today,” he vowed, pulling up with him and onto his horse. You were light in his arms, weakened from battle and injury, but there was still a flicker of the fierce spirit he had always admired in you. “I’ll get you out of here, I swear it.”

Criston’s voice was closer now, filled with anger. “Hightower, you’ll be executed for this!” he roared, but Gwayne didn’t even spare him a glance. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, and the animal surged forward, carrying you both away from the hellish scene behind you.

As the horse galloped across the field, Gwayne glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see the moment when Silverwing’s strength finally gave out. Vhagar’s claws found purchase, tearing deep into Silverwing’s side, and with a heart-wrenching cry, the silver dragon was forced to release her grip. Vhagar reared up, triumphant and bloodied, but the cost of the battle was clear—her eye was ruined, her scales cracked and bleeding. Silverwing collapsed onto the battlefield, her wings crumpling beneath her, but even then, she snarled defiantly, refusing to bow.

But there was no more fight left in her. Gwayne’s heart broke as he watched the light fade from Silverwing’s eyes, her body slumping in exhaustion. Aemond’s laughter echoed through the sky, dark and cruel, as he urged Vhagar to take the final blow. But before Vhagar could finish her fallen opponent, Gwayne’s eyes caught the movement of Criston as he halted his pursuit.

“Cole!” Aegon’s voice was a ragged gasp, filled with pain and panic. The king lay on the battlefield, unmoving, his once-golden armor scorched and twisted from the flames. His face was barely recognizable, the flesh blistered and raw, his body wracked with agony. Criston’s eyes widened in horror as he realized what had happened—their king was grievously injured, possibly dying. All thoughts of pursuing Gwayne and you evaporated as Criston sprinted toward Aegon, screaming orders for a healer.

Gwayne tightened his hold on you as the horse raced away from the carnage, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. You clung to him weakly, your breath shallow, your strength fading fast. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he urged, his voice trembling with barely contained desperation. “Just hold on a little longer. We’ll find safety. I won’t let you die.”

Your eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment, you leaned your head against his chest, your voice a faint whisper. “You saved me… again…”

Gwayne’s throat tightened, his emotions threatening to spill over. “And I’ll keep saving you, no matter what it costs,” he promised, pressing a fierce kiss to your temple as the wind whipped through your hair. “I’m not losing you. Not today, not ever.”

Behind them, the battle raged on, but for Gwayne, the only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms and the fragile hope that somehow, despite everything, they would both live to see another day.

[cienie-isengardu]

Bi-Han & Kenshi

I’m curious - if people think Bi-Han is the scum for breaking centuries old tradition of Lin Kuei’s servitude to Liu Kang and Earthrealm, do they also think Kenshi is a bastard for trying to break out his clan from Yakuza? Both men were raised in clans that supposedly pledged its loyalty to someone - Lin Kuei to Liu Kang/Earthrealm, clan Taira renamed as Takahashi to the Bakuto (Yakuza) and both at some point decided their people deserves better and waged war against their superiors to free their respective clans. 

I’m pretty sure some of fans may be outraged how I could compare Liu Kang to Yakuza but the thing is, so far story mode and tie-in material didn’t show much suggesting Lin Kuei’s relationship with Fire Lord was based on genuine friendship or even mutual respect. There is nothing even remotely close to how Liu Kang addressed Sindel or interacted with Royal Family and his Champions. Bi-Han’s title of Grandmaster is never used by Liu Kang, Tomas is never acknowledged either alongside his brothers (chapter 1) nor as Kuai Liang’s second in command in regard to Shirai Ryu (last chapter). Kuai Liang is not part of the final meeting between Liu Kang and his champions even though he led a major attack on the enemy's forces when Fire Lord was busy with his own task. Literally all story mode the Lin Kuei brothers’ interaction with Liu Kang is about them doing his bidding and nothing more. Considering the implication that

A) Umgadi system was Liu Kang’s own innovation (as stated in Geras vs Tanya intro dialogue) and said system is based on taking away a little girls from their families and indoctrinating them into loyal warriors whose main goal is to uphold Royal Family’s regime over Outworld 

B) Umgadi system and Lin Kuei has a lot pallares to each other, world-building wise

I can see why Bi-Han claims Earthrealm - and by extension Liu Kang, doesn’t deserve his loyalty.

Sindel: With one act, you betrayed two realms. Sub-Zero: Neither deserved my loyalty.

Ironically, from Kenshi and Johnny Cage's talk about history of Taira clan, we can conclude that Kenshi’s forefathers actually benefited from Yakuza, as it was Yakuza that provided them protection when every other noble house wanted them dead:

Johnny: "Four hundred years ago the Taira clan were one of Japan's first families. They lost Sento after getting slaughtered at the Siege of Aomori." Kenshi: "There were survivors. They hid themselves by shedding the name Taira for Takahashi. They joined the Bakuto for its protection." Johnny: The Yakuza's predecessors... From first family to crime family."

What is more, Kenshi’s backstory is not “Yakuza threaten my family and I must act to save them” but he was part of japanese criminal organization (implied by the tattoos on his body) that had a change of heart once he fell in love: 

Scorpion: Who was it that set you on the righteous path? Kenshi: Her name was Suchin.

and who needed to reclaim family ancient sword, Sento, because without it, he did not have full support of his people:

Kenshi (story mode): "I will break us free of the Yakuza's corruption. Reclaim our name and our position. But my clan won't follow me unless I prove that I can lead. That's why I need Sento."

Ironically, at this moment, sources strongly imply Lin Kuei - with exception of Kuai Liang and Tomas - willingly support Bi-Han and the breaking up with Liu Kang/Earthrealm. And like Scorpion suggested in story mode, some members like Sektor and Cyrax would still choose Bi-Han over the him or tradition, even when knowing that Sub-Zero let his own father die. Kenshi, on other hand, needs first to win over his own clan, which may imply that a great number of his family is not willing to either leave the Yakuza or lost its protection.

And sure, we may argue about morality of characters and organizations to which they belonged (Liu Kang’s protectors of Earthrealm and Yakuza), but it won’t change the fact that narrative wise, the story arc of Bi-Han and Kenshi is structurally the same. 

They served someone (Liu Kang/Earthrealm, leaders of Yakuza) to whom their respective clans pledged their loyalty centuries ago until something made them question their life and current political and economic state of their clans. In case of Kenshi, it was Suchin, in case of Bi-Han the reason is unknown yet the growing frustration didn’t come out of nowhere. Both took the first available offer that possibly could advance their cause after the just-meet strangers proved they have means to fulfill their promises (Liu Kang’s showcase of fire power, Shang Tsung presenting Dragon Army). And once they waged the war against their former bosses, none of them is willing to return to things as they were - whatever others approve or not. And as intro dialogues imply, their actions cost people’s lives.

Liu Kang: Your actions cost lives, Bi-Han! Sub-Zero: They were in the Lin Kuei's best interests.

and

Liu Kang: Your war on the underworld is taking innocent lives. Kenshi: Am I to blame for my enemy's wanton violence?

And apparently, both made alliances with people considered as criminal, cruel and/or dangerous to Earthrealm. Like Bi-Han’s alliance with Shang Tsung, General Shao and Nitara while Kenshi, according to intro dialogues, is involved with Black Dragons:

Geras: You have been warned about the Black Dragon. Kenshi: Don't worry. I know what I'm doing.

or

Kenshi: My war on the Yakuza has a new ally. Scorpion: You cannot trust the Black Dragon, Kenshi.

Through intro dialogues, BIO and story mode, we may even notice similar patterns in goals of Bi-Han and Kenshi. As in, them wishing to make their clan independent and finally out of the shadows:

KENSHI:

(story mode): "I will break us free of the Yakuza's corruption. Reclaim our name and our position. 

and

(story mode): "Not dead. Hiding. With Sento in my hands, I'll lead us out of the shadows."

or

BIO: "Once one of ancient Japan's most honored families, the Takahashis were decimated in battle. They lost everything, including the emblem of their power: the revered sword, Sento. Those who survived joined the Bakuto, a predecessor of the Yakuza, for its protection. Five centuries later, Kenshi is raised on the stories of his ancient family's exploits. Detesting his corrupt Yakuza life, he pines to free the Takahashis from the Yakuza's grasp and restore their name. But for his family to follow him, Kenshi must first fight to prove that he can lead. His first battle is to find and retrieve Sento."

Bi-Han

Mortal Kombat 1: "As the Lin Kuei's Grandmaster, Sub-Zero leads his ancient warrior clan in defense of Earthrealm from external threats. For centuries, it has been their solemn task. But Earthrealm hasn't been threatened in generations, and Sub-Zero see no point in limiting his clan to preparing for dangers that may never come. Under his leadership, the Lin Kuei will come out of the shadows and fight for its place as one of Earthrealm's great nations."

and

Sub-Zero: I've gained the Lin Kuei's freedom. Smoke: You've only earned them infamy.

Among other intro dialogues

or

Sub-Zero’s MK1 Ending: "I had broken the Lin Kuei free of Liu Kang's enslavement. We were now masters of our destiny and could take our place among Earthrealm's greatest nations [...]."

Which is why I’m curious - if people judge Bi-Han as “evil” for breaking up with what he considered an enslavement or exploitation of his family and clan, do they see Kenshi in the same light? Or is Kenshi by virtue of siding with Liu Kang the good guy and Sub-Zero is scorned because of his broken relationship with brothers more than anything else?

(Though if to support Bi-Han you need to bash Kuai Liang then please, don’t. If there is one thing that sources proved us about the Lin Kuei brothers is that both are dutiful men who put duty above the bloodties - and sadly their sense of duties isn’t compatible anymore.)

[imaginedreamwrite]

Bound By Blood

Part 2: Stolen

A series of three matching pieces of furniture is placed before a wall-to-wall mirror. The material is made of fine black leather with metal details that pucker the fabric where someone’s back would rest. There is a long and deep couch that is the center of the three, with two equally crafted armchairs to the left and right. In front of the couch is a coffee table made of black wood that is stained to reflect the light above it. 

Behind the series of furniture that set the mood for the room, is a bar that’s just as sleek as the rest of the room’s design. A single man stands behind the bar top, making and mixing drinks for men who should have been cut off long ago. A chandelier that’s much more in tune with the matriarch of the house’s taste, sits high above the couch and armchairs, casting a light across the otherwise darkly designed room. 

A plume of cigarette smoke is heavy in the air, as is the tension that radiates from every man in here. The expectation’s that there is a war coming to the territory is not lost on them, and the hit that started it all is only now being felt with all its weight.

As the door opens and shuts again, the conversation’s come to a lull, a dead stop as all attention falls to the two newcomers who welcome themselves in. The lingering tension had only grown with the addition of two men who were equally out of place as they were welcomed by the head of this all. 

You were observant, standing the furthest you could from the gossiping channels of your father’s men. After being summoned by your father you were largely ignored and had been given the excuse that it would only be a few minutes before it would begin. You didn’t buy the pitiful excuse that your father wasn’t ready, you had suspected that he just didn’t want to address what was occupying his mind. 

Until the two men from the UK had arrived in the room, and then the conversation was forced to get on the way. There would be no more stalling, it was inevitable, and people wanted answers. Your father’s friends and allies that had attended the party your mother planned, wanted to know the next course of action. 

Your father had set his whiskey glass down and stood from the ironwood desk he was sitting at. He pressed his hands upon the top and slid them forward until his arms were extended, and he was leaning over the desk. There was a brief analytical flash in his eyes, as if he was trying to avoid the topic that would very well change the course of this organization he had built. 

“The Gravekeeper has all but declared war. The loyalty he has to his men is even deeper than my own, and he has taken the news of the target’s death as a personal offence. There will be a bloody fucking siege between out territories.” Your father’s face contorted with an influx of tension and worry, the raggedness that you’d seen very few times before was evident. He was preparing for a kind of hellscape to be unleashed upon the criminal empire he was in control of, and likewise in return he would release his own hell. It would be an all-out war between the different factions of the mafia, two leaders who neither had a peaceful deal nor a reason to attack the other. 

Until your father acted first. And now there was war on his doorstep. 

“Which brings me to the conclusion that I need to safeguard what’s important to me.” Your father had stood upright and rigid, his eyes had flitted toward you as you stood in the corner—attempting to hide in the shadows as the conversation moved forward. “I cannot protect your mother and yourself without potentially losing one of you.” 

“What exactly do you mean?” You’re already suspicious by the expulsion of your mother from the room and the conversation, knowing that if she were here, she would have words to say.  

His shoulders had become tense as he raised a hand and motioned toward the small crowd of men that were waiting to hear your father speak. Movement had caught your attention, and your gaze moved from your father toward the two men, who you'd never seen before tonight. The two of immeasurable size and likewise strength, or at least that you can assume, approach your father’s desk. 

“For the foreseeable future you will be under the protection,” your father finally gives you a name, and you find yourself unable to pull your gaze away from the pair of deep brown eyes that stare you down, “of Simon Riley.” 

The initial tension in the room had become something noxious and suffocating. Maybe it only affects you, but you feel the corded vines wrapping around your throat, the figurative hand on some dark phantom grabbing your neck. It squeezes with a life force that makes you question whether or not this is all in your head, or if you’re having an out of body experience where you’re truly dying. 

The sound of your blood pumping is a war drum in yours ears, your heartbeat is chaotic as you stare at your father. Glass puzzle pieces on the verge of shattering from the force in which they’re set into place is grating to every sense you have. 

Your mother was not here for the discussion because she would have said no. 

Regardless of your mother, who wanted you to be flawless in your husband hunting skills, still loved you. And the idea of going with some devil you didn’t know would surely overshadow every risk you took by staying here. Your mother could not have so easily allocated your protection to someone your father had chosen. 

“No, no absolutely not.” You drew yourself away from the corner of the room and walked closer to the desk where this unwavering negotiation was taking place. “You don’t get to decide what to do with me like I’m a child that needs to be handed off. I’m a grown woman and I'm not-” 

“The little princess needs protection that her daddy can’t offer her.” His thick Manchester accent reverberated in your ears and your reaction was swift. Fueled by anger and a deliberate attempt to wipe that damn smirk off his face, you reached for your father’s whiskey glass. You didn’t even feel it leaving your hand, all you heard was the shattering of glass against the wall, and the chagrin in your father’s stare. 

“Missed me princess, might want to work on that aim.” That smirk was ever present and the amusement he got of your outburst was only increased tenfold when you tried to lunge toward him. “You’re going to be removed if you can’t quiet down little girl-” 

“Fuck you! You and your stupid fucking-” A hand wrapped around your bicep, fingers digging into your flesh as you were pulled away with a force you couldn’t fight. You glared menacingly toward the cocky piece of work standing by your father’s desk, a struggle evident in the way you tried to remove the hand holding your arm. 

“Soap get rid of her.” The order was given, the Scottish bastard that came with Simon Riley had begun leading you out of the smoking room.  

You were dragged out and the door was slammed behind you. The moment it was shut you turned on the man holding you, your free hand attempting to strike him. Your success was limited and although you had clearly gotten one good hit in to break his lip, you were just as quickly subdued with a pair of zip ties binding your hands together. 

“You asshole.” You spat at the man; the one called Soap. The insult was doing nothing to dissuade the laughter that escapes his lips. He’s not even struggling to manhandle you regardless of the effort you’re putting in, and the skirmish does nothing but amuse him. 

“Aye I’m a right prick, ‘aven’t heard that one before. Ya know you could make this easier on yourself lass.” He grunts when you manage to maneuver yourself in a way that you get a decent kick just as he’s leaving the front door of your father’s estate. 

There’s nothing you can do to fight him off, not in the grand scheme of things, and screaming for help wouldn’t do shit. These people, everyone associated here, has learned to turn a blind eye to the process of removing someone—even if you are the don’s daughter. 

If you see something, if you hear something, no you didn’t. 

Don’t ask questions if you won’t like the repercussions. 

No one was going to risk going against your father and his decisions, no one was going to help you try and combat these men from the UK. Not when there was a territorial war that was on their doorstep, and they had their own families to worry about. 

“In ya go, there you are. What a good girl-” That stupid Scottish accent was condescending as you were tossed into the backseat of a limousine, your hands secured behind your back by that stupid zip tie. 

“-go to hell.” You reacted with another blow, the density of your heel connecting with his ribs. It was a moment of satisfaction when you seemed to some damage, even if it was temporary. Even just the found of his cursing and grunt as you kicked him sharply in the ribs was enough for you, enough to make you feel pleased with yourself. 

Any satisfaction you felt, any relief or victory was incredibly short lived. By the time the double doors had opened again, Simon Riley had stalked out of the estate with an expression of neutrality. Simon had taken the place of Soap and rest a large hand upon the roof of the limousine to balance himself as he leaned in and looked you over. 

You tried again to kick at him like you had with Soap, to no avail. His large, calloused hand grabbed your leg and yanked your whole body toward the exit, nearly to the point where you fell on your ass. He let go of the roof of the limousine and instead grabbed your arm to yank your chest to his. His intense brown eyes raked over you, the coldness in his stare unrelenting and impossible to ignore as it burned into you. 

“Are you going to be a good girl and quit fighting? Or am I going to have to silence you myself?” It was less of a choice than he made you believe, and even the smallest twitch of your leg had him reacting with a roll of his eyes. “Americans are always so bloody stubborn.” 

“Listen to me, princess. You either stop throwing a hissy fit like a child that got her toy taken away, or I'm going to put you under. Your choice.” As he spoke, he slipped his hand into his suit jacket and removed a capped needle, tapping it twice against your forehead. “Five, four, three-” 

“You and your ego can-” the cap was between his teeth before you could register what he was doing, and you felt the pinch against your skin just as fast. He was moving quickly, slamming the plunger down to administer the sedatives. 

Even though they wouldn't work immediately, it wouldn’t have mattered. Simon had maneuvered your back into the limousine and slammed the door behind you. You lay against the cool leather with your hands still bound behind your back, watching through the tinted windows as the two men talked. Their conversation was muffled and short, and within minutes the door on the other side of the limo opened, and Soap was the first to get in. 

He brushed past you to sit on the seat opposite of yourself, his suit jacket removed and resting over the end of the kilt, arms stretched across the back of the seats. Simon was next to enter the limo but unlike Soap he had sat directly next to your body. He rested his hand upon your cheek and tapped twice, crooning sarcastically as he stared down at you. 

“All that fight for a little bird to be caged anyway.” His fingers were rough against your skin as he brushed his hand down your cheek. “Your dear old daddy doesn’t want his little princess caught in the crossfire, that means you’re under my care and my rules.” 

Your mind was getting hazy, the beginning stage of the sedatives beginning to take effect. It was slowly kicking in, and once the limo had begun to pull away from the curb you felt his hand cup your chin. He directed your attention toward himself with the subtle cock of his head and the rise of the corner of his lips. 

“I might not even give you back.”

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

Stannis and Maester Aemon ( and Azor Ahai)

The first interaction (the first we read on page)of those two men, is so interesting !

Stannis and Maester Aemon are related but neither man acknowledges it, here. Maester Aemon will acknowledge it on AFFC, on the same passage he will declare that Stannis isn't their promised savior.

I get it why Stannis doesn't want to admit aloud his blood connection to a Targaryen because he went through some really harsh times during Robert's rebellion ( aka the Siege of Storm's End). However, I also find it hilarious because partly the reason his brother ended up King, and now Stannis can claim to also become one, is because of their blood connection to House Targaryen.

At the beginning of the chapter, Stannis lets all the Black brothers who visited him kneel for a long period of time. Which is harsh considering how old and fragile Maester Aemon is, but is consistent with Stannis characterization to do so.

King Stannis kept the black brothers on their knees for an extraordinarily long time. "Rise," he said at last. Sam gave Maester Aemon his shoulder to help him back up.

ASOS, SAMWELL V

It seems that King Stannis has woken the dragon in Maester Aemon because while he remains his polite self, he keeps interrupting Stannis and correcting him. It reminded me how Jon interacted with Stannis on his first meeting with him.

Let's examine the moments where Maester Aemon is being subtly sassy to Stannis

1. Stannis comments how Sam would make a valuable hostage if he had not taken the black and Maester Aemon immediately interrupts him to say that Sam has indeed taken the black.

If you had not taken the black, you would make a useful hostage," Stannis mused.

"He has taken the black, sire," Maester Aemon pointed out.

I wonder if Maester Aemon, who knows more than he lets show, knows or suspects that Stannis wanted Jon to abandon his oaths and become Lord of Winterfell. It wouldn't surprised me, given how he quickly points out that Sam has taken the black and therefore cannot be used by Stannis but since I have no evidence it's only a speculation of mine.

2. Stannis calls him "Aemon Targaryen" and Maester Aemon reminds him that his loyalty lays with the night's watch.

"I am aware of more than you know, Aemon Targaryen."

The old man inclined his head. "I am only Aemon, sire. We give up our House names when we forge our maester's chains."

3. And my favourite moment is when Maester Aemon asks to see Stannis' sword. It seems an innocent request but Maester Aemon wants to examine whether it's fake or not. And after Sam describes it to him ( reminder that Maester Aemon is blind) he doesn't only thank Stannis for showing it to him but Melisandre as well. In my opinion, he subtly implies that the sword is flamming thanks to her.

"I see it now, Sam. A sword full of sunlight. So lovely to behold." The old man bowed stiffly. "Your Grace. My lady. This was most kind of you."

After all, when he leaves Stannis' chambers and he talks with Sam about the sword he again implies that it isn't the real thing

Maester Aemon was lost in thought as Sam helped him down the narrow turnpike stair. But as they were crossing the yard, he said, "I felt no heat. Did you, Sam?"

"Heat? From the sword?" He thought back. "The air around it was shimmering, the way it does above a hot brazier."

"Yet you felt no heat, did you? And the scabbard that held this sword, it is wood and leather, yes? I heard the sound when His Grace drew out the blade. Was the leather scorched, Sam? Did the wood seem burnt or blackened?"

"No," Sam admitted. "Not that I could see."

It's ironic that Melisandre calls Maester Aemon a blind man ( something that he is) when he's the one who can see that Stannis isn't the Azor Ahai and that his sword isn't Lightbringer, while Stannis and Melisandre ( who aren't blind like Maester Aemon) are blinded by their desire for Stannis to fulfill the prophesy.

Maester Aemon murmur, "It is the war for the dawn you speak of, my lady. But where is the prince that was promised?"

"He stands before you," Melisandre declared, "though you do not have the eyes to see. Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai come again, the warrior of fire. In him the prophecies are fulfilled. The red comet blazed across the sky to herald his coming, and he bears Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes."

[whencyclopedia]

Legions of Pannonia

Located west of the Danube, Pannonia was essential for the protection of the Roman Empire's eastern frontier. It had been occupied since 9 BCE but did not willingly accept Roman authority. Pannonia and Dalmatia revolted in 6 CE, and it would take three years and a total of eleven legions to finally bring Roman victory in 9 CE. To ensure peace, four legions were assigned to Pannonia: X Gemina, XIV Gemina, I Adiutrix, and II Adiutrix.

The Pannonian Revolt

After years of conflict with Rome, Pannonia had finally fallen under Roman control in 9 BCE. The uneasy peace that followed would not last long. After the Roman commander and future emperor Tiberius (r. 14-37 CE) withdrew legions from Pannonia and Dalmatia for his Germanic campaign in 5 CE, the two provinces seized the opportunity to rise up and revolt. The Pannonian rebel army struck first, marching into Macedonia. Meanwhile, Dalmatian rebels began to raid neighboring towns, attacking Roman auxiliaries and massacring Roman citizens. With this initial success, more and more Dalmatians joined in the cause. Eventually, the rebels would number over 200,000 – one-fourth of their combined population. Although surrounded by the rebellious army, the governor of Dalmatia, Marcus Messalinus, and cohorts of the 20th legion were able to rout the rebels. After the Pannonians laid siege to Sirmium (in modern Serbia), the governor of Moesia, Caecina Severus, and his legions marched westward to meet the Pannonian commander and his army and defeated him.

With the Dalmatian attack on Salonae (in modern Croatia) and much of the Adriatic coast in rebel control, panic across Italy forced the Roman emperor Augustus (r. 27 BCE - 14 CE) to recall Tiberius. With Legio VIII Augusta, Legio XI Hispana, Legio XIV Gemina Martia Victrix, Legio XV Apollinaris, and cohorts of the Legio XX, he marched into the rebelling provinces. In addition to Tiberius, Augustus sent the young Germanicus (15 BCE - 19 CE) to the Balkans with a force of evocati and non-citizen troops. Meanwhile, Aulus Caecina Severus and Plautius Silvanus arrived from the East with five legions. In total, the Roman army numbered 10 legions, 70 cohorts of auxiliary, 14 cavalry wings, and 10,000 evocati.

The Pannonians abandoned their plan to march on Rome, and the Dalmatian commander grew suspicious of his counterpart's loyalty to the cause. The Pannonian leader was captured, put on trial, found guilty, and executed. After this, the Roman army laid siege to several Dalmatian towns. Casualties were high on both sides, and it took one-third of the Roman army to finally suppress the uprising. Before the Dalmatian commander was led off to live the remainder of his life in house arrest, he had one final comment, blaming Rome for the war: "We are your flocks, yet you didn’t send shepherds to look after us, you sent wolves." (quoted in Dando-Collins, 234) Writing years later, the historian Suetonius (c. 69 - c. 130/140 CE) wrote in his biography of Tiberius about the seriousness of the rebellion. He said the revolt "proved to be the most bitterly fought of all foreign wars since Rome had defeated Carthage" (Twelve Caesars, 114).

In his The Complete Roman Legions, historian Nigel Pollard places four legions permanently in Pannonia:

Legio X Gemina

Legio XIV Gemina

Legio I Adiutrix

Legio II Adiutrix

Continue reading...

[dragonfire-hq]

To the Lords and Ladies of the Allied Houses,

The tides of war shift once more. Word has reached me that Corwyn Velaryon, relentless in his pursuits, has successfully rallied his banners and reinstated the blockade of King’s Landing. This brazen act threatens not only the heart of the realm but also the stability we have fought tirelessly to preserve.

In light of this, I summon you, my loyal allies, to convene for another war council. Your wisdom and strength have been the cornerstone of our efforts thus far, and I have no doubt that together, we shall chart a path forward to counter this threat.

The council shall take place in the Great Hall of the Red Keep at the fortnight's end. Your presence is not only requested but required, for the decisions we make in the days to come shall shape the destiny of the Seven Kingdoms. Bring with you trusted advisors and any intelligence that may aid in our deliberations.

Our banners have stood united through the storm and attempted siege of Rooks Rest, and I trust in your continued loyalty as we face this renewed aggression. Let it be known that the Crown remembers the steadfastness of its allies and rewards those who stand firm in the face of treachery.

May the flames of our dragons light the way, and may the might of our alliance crush those who dare defy the Iron Throne.

In unity and strength, Visenya Targaryen Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm

______________________________________________________________

To the Esteemed Lords and Ladies of the True Cause,

The seas have proven once again to be our steadfast ally, for the blockade of King’s Landing stands renewed. Our naval might has choked the capital’s lifeblood once more, but let us not be content with half-measures. The next tide must be one of men and steel upon the soil of the Crownlands.

The time has come to press our advantage and secure a foothold upon the land, where the enemy's stronghold grows ever more vulnerable. Our fleet has done its part; now, the banners must rise, the blades must march, and the resolve of our cause must be unshakable.

To this end, I summon you to a war council at Driftmark in seven days’ time. There, we shall plan the next steps to claim what is rightfully ours and to ensure that the Iron Throne does not remain in the hands of those who would squander it. Victory is within our grasp, but it requires unity and decisive action.

Bring with you your captains, commanders, and the strength of your houses, for we shall lay the foundation for our next pursuit. Know that your courage thus far has not gone unnoticed. The tide turns in our favor, and soon we shall see the fruits of our labors ripen into triumph.

This war will not be won by hesitation but by boldness, as history favors the daring. Together, we shall not merely survive this conflict; we shall define it, and through it, we shall seize our destiny.

I await your arrival and your wisdom, as our cause marches ever closer to its ultimate victory.

In honor and resolve, Corwyn Velaryon The True King of The Seven Kingdoms

______________________________________________________________

DISCORD EVENT: JANUARY 30TH 2025 @ 7PM EST - FEBUARY 2ND 2025.

[nolofinweanweek]

Nolofinwëan week is starting in 2 weeks!

Below are some inspirational, nonmandatory prompts for your creations. These suggestions are formatted as questions because they are meant simply to inspire you. Featured timeframes and characters can be mixed and matched in whatever way or disrespected completely.

Day 1: Noontide of Valinor - Darkening | Fingolfin | Anairë

Canon offers only hints about the Noontide of Valinor, a pre-canonical era that established many relationships and events we see unfolding in the Silmarillion. How did Fingolfin and Anairë meet? What kind of childhood experiences did Fingon, Turgon, Aredhel and Argon have? What was their relationship with the families of Fëanor and Finarfin? Were Fingolfin and Fëanor always at odds? How did the interference of Melkor disrupt these relationships? What events developed after Fëanor's banishment to Formenos and Fingolfin's rule in Tirion? How do you envision the Darkening of Valinor?

Day 2: Exile - Arrival to Beleriand | Fingon | Argon | Elenwë

The Flight of the Noldor is a breaking moment, a crisis that brings about some of the most challenging moments for Fingolfin and his family. Can you illustrate the argument that brought about the decision to leave Valinor? What effect did Fingon's participation at Alqualondë have? What were the relationships between the hosts of Fingolfin and Finrod on the Helcaraxë? What was Argon's or Elenwë's story before their passing? How do you interpret the rising of the Moon and the Sun with the host's arrival to Middle-earth? What about that glorious moment when the host challenges Morgoth at his gates?

Day 3: Mithrim - The Long Peace | Turgon | Aredhel | Eöl

The early days of Mithrim solidified the House of Fingolfin as the next line of Noldorin Kings, followed by a 200-year-long siege of Angband. What were the early political relationships between the hosts of Fingolfin and the Fëanorian followers? What prompted Turgon to build Vinyamar and then Gondolin? What was Aredhel's life like in Gondolin before leaving? What kind of new friendships were developed during the Long Peace? Did any reconciliations take place? What were the Nolofinwëan fortresses like during peaceful times? What was the Nolofinwëan relationship like with the local Sindar Elves?

Day 4: Dagor Bragollach - War of Wrath | Idril | Maeglin | Tuor | Eärendil | Elwing

The Battle of Sudden Flame brings another turmoil with the death of Fingolfin and the rising of Fingon as the new High King. This is the beginning of a turbulent period that will culminate with the sinking of Beleriand. How do you imagine these battles? What is your reading of Fingon's Kingship? How do you envision the relationships between the House of Fingolfin and their mortal allies, the House of Hador? What kind of culture did Gondolin develop in its isolation? What brought about the strained relationship between Idril and Maeglin, and how did it affect loyalties in Gondolin? What happened to Gondolin's refugees? What was Idril and Tuor's final fate? How do you imagine Sirion and its multicultural population?

Day 5: Lindon - War of the Ring | Elrond | Elros | Gil-galad | Celebrían

The War of Wrath destroys Beleriand, but the line of Fingolfin goes on through his descendants. How do you imagine the begging of a new life in Lindon? What is your reading of the parentage of Gil-galad? What was his kingship like? What was the relationship between the Peredhil twins? What led to their decision to choose different fates? What kind of culture developed in Lindon, Númenór, Rivendell or other settlements ruled by Nolofinwëan descendants? How did the events from the first age affect relationships in the second and third?

Day 6: Fourth Age Middle-earth - Return to Valinor | Númenórean descendants | Peredhil descendants

The Fourth Age signified the end of the Elven era in Middle-earth and the end of Tolkien's canon. What about your own ideas for this time frame? How does Gondor change under Aragorn and Arwen's rule? Who are their children? What kind of culture develops as the Elves leave Middle-earth? What about the Elves who return or are reborn in Valinor? Can they integrate easily into the place they once called home? Is Valinor even a physical place?

Day 7: AUs, Canon divergences, Freeform | Nolofinwëan OCs | Canon ghosts | Earlier canonical characters

This is a day to let the muses run wild with canon. Do you want to go down deep rabbit holes on obscure canonical details discarded in the published Silmarillion? Have a Nolofinwëan original character that needs a space to shine? What if Fingolfin won the battle against Morgoth? Who was Erien, daughter of Fingon? What if Idril returned Maeglin's love? Who was Elros' wife? What if Elrond decided to choose a mortal fate? Who would the Nolofinwëans be in modern times?

The event directory is accessible here.

[p0orbaby]

Hey so i was thinking… can you write a story where reader and Alicent are lovers and reader is there to comfort Alicent when Viserys dies and advise her not to tell Otto or anybody about what Viserys said and just let Rhaenyra gets the throne? You could add Daemon slander too i love it lol just make sure that Reader tells Rhaenyra none of them trust Daemon and he could harm Alicent’s children. I just need someone on Ali’s side and protecting her children since nobody cares 😔

-👺

Loyalty

warnings: death, one mention of spicy times

a/n: I forgot how much I liked writing for the Westeros universe

word count: 441

There was silence behind the walls of the Red keep. Death had arrived in King's Landing.

It was an inevitable conclusion with Viserys’ state. And though the Gods gifted him with one last meal with his family, it seemed to snuff out the final flame he had burning within.

You were amongst the first to find out. Alicent having come straight to your chambers when it happened. She cried of course, but not out of love, out of relief. Confessing the King's dying words to you between gasps and cotton sheets.

You kissed away her tears in the glow of the moon.

Ser Criston was given the go ahead to summon the small council upon your orders. You had Alicent swear to you not to tell another soul of what she heard. If her father found out Viserys’ intentions for who’d grace the throne after him, he’d stop at nothing to make it happen.

Rightful heir or not, Aegon wasn’t ready to be King. All Aegon wanted to do was drink sweet wine and fuck girls. He’d bring down the downfall of the realm, and his House along with it.

It shall be Rhaenerya who will rule over the kingdoms. The Princess of Dragonstone is not a name worthy enough of a woman who befits a Queen.

The crows sent messages the following morning. Dragons returned to the castle during the hour of the nightingale. The flapping of their wings wasn’t heard over the sound of your lovers moans.

“The Greens are agreeable with this?” Rhaenyra asked.

“It doesn’t matter what they agree with or not. Your father named you heir, and you’ll sit on that throne like he wanted you to.” There was a pause as you decided if you should speak your next words. “But you need to keep Daemon on a tight leash”

The Queen smirked at you, “he’s not a hound”

“No, he’s not. He’s a dragon. And we don’t trust him”

The shutters rattled in the winds outside. The hearth crackled and bellowed in anger. It was as if the Gods were trying to warn you of something.

“Her children will be fine. He wants power, I’ll give him enough of it to stay satisfied. Another siege in the stepstones perhaps”

“Ruling isn’t a game, Rhaenyra”

“And playing house with our dead fathers’ widowed wife isn’t either, but here we are”

Your sister was crowned a moon later. Offering up Dragonstone to you to settle in peace. A place to feel safe.

“It serves us well to keep it in the family” she expressed.

A Targaryen rule of thumb that spans across a multitude of avenues.

[cfnobility]

( sean teale , 30 , cis-male , he/him ) — ashes to ashes , will cry the bards , before they sing the song of LORD RENLY . behind them fly the banners of HOUSE BARATHEON of STORM'S END . known throughout the land for their JOVIIAL, ADMIRABLE & FRIVOLOUS nature , the people are eager to see how they act in the dragon’s court under the watchful eye of the king’s guard . their name alone brings images of MOCKING WORDS WITH LYRICAL VOICES, SHADOWS THAT TOWER OVER OTHERS, LAUGHING EYES AND RAGE HIDDEN UNDER SMILES . they are notably AGAINST the targaryen rule .

trigger warnings: minor homophobia

Basics

name: renly baratheon

age: thirty

height: 6'4

hair color: brown

eye color: brown

gender: cis-man

pronouns: he/him

starsign: virgo

sexuality: homosexual

home: storm's end, the stormlands

titles: lord of storms end

loyalties: house baratheon

religion: the seven

Family

father: lord steffon baratheon †

mother: lady cassandra baratheon nee estermont †

siblings: robert baratheon †, stannis baratheon

other family: uncle to children of robert baratheon and stannis baratheon

Early Life

the only parents renly ever knew were steffon and cassandra baratheon. even the people of storm's end would say the same. he was born to be their child. his birthmother a maid of lady cassandra's with a lover she'd never name. when he was born his birthmother traded her life for his. it was unfortunate that they were parents renly never got to know.

he was raised by maids, maesters and his elder brother stannis. a young boy full of life, happy to play and pretend he was a wizard, a dragon and anything else he could be. whatever made him happy he'd do it.

he was only 6 when the siege of storm's end came but he remembers being pulled away from windows when he looked out, being scolded when he would whine about being hungry or wanting to play outside. now he knew how much the people of storm's end did for him, how much stannis did for him.

the war was over and to renly not much changed, he had food, stannis wasn't as angry. robert still wasn't around, but now there were looks. people didn't look at them the same as they had before. it didn't bother him, renly liked being looked at. he liked attention.

as he grew up he understood why people looked at him the way they did. robert had led them into a war they lost, people died for his brothers pride. and to many of them renly was a mirror of the boy his eldest brother used to be. loud and large renly went out of his way to make sure people knew he wasn't robert. anytime he was around his eldest brother the man was good enough at making sure everyone knew they were different.

renly was a capable fighter, he was strong and brave like the baratheons were supposed to be. but for robert he was never enough, he was too soft, too invested in his looks and not interested in women enough. where stannis was at times hard to get along with robert was impossible to get along with. robert was the one who would tell him he wasn't a baratheon. he was the one who renly gave up trying to impress.

Now

after his brothers death renly hated that he was upset. he knows who his brother was, he knows robert probably hated him but he was still his brother. seeing everyone happy and cheering for his brothers death has left a bad taste in his mouth.

renly has no particular interest in the crown and who wears it. he's more interested in the attention that comes with titles, the respect he feels he's never gotten. his brother and nephew can fight over storm's end all they want. renly is hap

there is a part of him that's worried about getting close to people, his birth mother died giving birth, his parents died when he was an infant after naming him their son, and a week after he left visiting robert he died.

people are still excited about his brother finally dying, but they see him and again they see robert. he hates it, he hates how they look at him, how they look at his family. renly's not been an angry man, but when he's in kings landing he can't help it.

Canon-Changes

renly was adopted by steffon and cassandra baratheon when he was a baby

his sexuality isn't a secret, he's gay and basically everyone knows it, he used to pretend to robert but that didn't last long he was really bad at pretending.

more to be updated

Connections

former betrothal: a woman he was betrothed to and basically the reason he eventually came out. they can be good friends now or not? all up to player

friends: he's good at charming people, he likes attention and being liked. but i'd love for him to have actual friends that are more than just him charming people and being nice to them.

enemies/doesn't get along with: he's a pain in the ass too like he'll make fun of people just because it's funny to him. he can be the worst person sometimes just because he finds it funny. and the fact that he's roberts brother and all that, dislike him on principal.

lovers/neutral people/anything

[verecunda]

On 25 October [1641], John Pym, the king’s key opponent in the Commons, was handed a letter in the chamber. The porter said that he had received it that morning on Fish Street Hill from a man on a horse with a red ribbon around his arm. The rider’s face was covered by a montero (a flapped hunting cap), but the porter had noticed a wart on his nose, and the twelvepence reward. He passed the letter to Pym. It contained a bandage saturated in plague pus and a note stating that if the infection did not kill him, a dagger would follow.

— The Siege of Loyalty House, Jessie Childs

They fuckin. tried to send this guy the plague through the post!

[crisalidaseason]

Fifteenth entry: The siege comes for all.

There are certain moments in the life of a shadow in which you feel surrounded by things you cannot control, but were always there. They are waiting for the moment to jump out of their hiding spot, test your abilities and even loyalties.

****

Liam went through a phase as a young boy in which he would put himself in dangerous situations - with Sloane as a tag along - just to feel the adrenaline of a good adventure. No matter how many times his mother scolded and grounded him, nothing could beat the euphoria of sneaking out of the house with the other children, disappearing in the woods for hours, stealing from the kitchens, eavesdropping conversations, pranking the infantry squads patrolling around Aretia. Consequently, Liam did not mind at all when Violet decided to invade her mother’s office and steal something. He liked the adrenaline and a part of him rejoiced at the prospect that Lilith Sorrengail would probably be very inconvenienced by their stunt.

Unfortunately, the giddy feelings died as soon as him and Sawyer unrolled the enormous parchment, revealing a map.

“We have brought the ultimate weapon for our enemies. An up-to-date map of all current outposts of Navarrian wings, to include troop strength of infantry battlements” Violet presented “As well as the locations of all current skirmishes in the last thirty days. Including last night”

Fuck. Violet was a mad mad woman. They did not steal a map, they stole the map - a map Liam was sure no cadet was allowed to see. He felt his stomach drop at the realization that they might be in serious danger. He looked at Violet, who was calmly explaining the map in detail, then at Imogen. Her green eyes were stoic, but the shoulders were tensing under her uniform shirt.

“And how do we know this map is, in fact, current?” Kaori’s voice barely registered in Liam’s mind as he stared at Xaden - who was fighting a fucking grin.

“Because we stole it from General Sorrengail’s office” Violet announced in a tone she barely used, a playfulness she reserved for her squad.

The room exploded in noise. Cadets protesting, professors shouting orders. Two scribes pulled the map out of Liam and Sawyer’s hands in a cold and false demeanor and - as their victory was declared - his squad all assembled around Violet, tapping on her head teasingly. Liam exchanged a look with Imogen, but she was purposefully avoiding his gaze and he decided to follow the silent advice. Looking at Xaden, there was only barely concealed pride as he acknowledged Violet’s gaze.

“You did it again!” Rhiannon was glued to Violet, smiling wide.

Violet giggled in return but Liam did not share her elation. There was an innocence in her voice and eyes that terrified him. He could bet that Violet was not aware of the danger she put herself into - a danger that took the shape of an old scribe fucker. She did not notice the big ‘fuck you’ that map sent to leadership’s control of information.

You were right in your assessment of peril, Deigh commented, your ward has enemies amongst your elders.

Unfortunately. If looks could kill, Markham would have burned a hole on Violet’s head already. The old man stared at her in the same way he did to all marked ones, as if assessing a threat ready to burst.

***

“To the best fucking squad!” Ridoc cheered, clinking their mugs.

Liam chugged the poorly brewed and smuggled ale in a gulp, trying to drown his newfound worry. He was not in the mood for partying, but his squad would be suspicious since he was so openly euphoric about their possible victory a few hours ago. There was also the fact he could not handle talking to Xaden at the moment - not without losing his temper. The longer his brother was silent about pressing matters, the more dangers Violet unknowingly put herself in.

“You’re a fucking gem, Vi” Rhiannon embraced Violet’s shoulders “we’re visiting an outpost thanks to your precious little head”

“It wouldn’t have worked without all of you” Violet shrugged “you retrieving that huge map was brilliant”

“Definitely” Sawyer agreed “saved our asses with that”

Pride was evident on Rhiannon’s face “I know! I was so nervous, but it worked!”

“Also” Violet shouldered him slightly “if it wasn’t for Liam’s performance on the mat and gauntlet we would be in second place even after stealing the map”

They cheered loudly - definitely not polite considering there were people sleeping near Rhiannon’s room - but Liam could feel the worry subside a little, rejoicing in his team’s acceptance and warmth. Unfortunately, those exact moments were the reason his fears would settle in the middle of the night. Liam was terrified of not being able to drink bad quality ale after a victory, terrified that one day they would not be a group of five anymore. It was exhausting to live those happy moments hyper aware that the gods could take it away on a whim.

“Let’s play a game” Ridoc suggested “everyone down for cards?”

“You always cheat” Sawyer groaned.

“You’re a sore loser, Henrick”

“Here we go again” Rhiannon complained “I’m going to the bathing chambers real quick. Vi, don’t let Ridoc look at my cards”

The two men kept bickering while distributing the cards and Liam half-heartedly arranged them in his hand, noting that his deck was relatively good.

“You okay?” Violet whispered, her hand on his forearm.

She had scooted closer to him, the bed dipping slightly with the movement. Her brows furrowed in suspicion and Liam knew he was not being so subtle about his souring emotions.

“Just a bit tired. Long day” he replied.

Not a lie, but also not the full truth. He did not want to destroy such a rare moment of celebration with worries that were difficult to explain. He knew Violet was not convinced of his answer, her eyes clearly analyzing his features and probably considering probing the answer out of him.

“I’m here” she murmured, squeezing his forearm in comfort.

A few rounds of cards - and Ridoc’s shameless cheating - later, Liam decided it would be a good time to go to his own room without raising suspicion.

“Please, do leave, Handsome” Ridoc commented “I am going to scream if you win another round”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Gamlyn” Sawyer mocked “and see you tomorrow, Liam”

“Rest well, big guy” Rhiannon “and thanks again for today. You were awesome”

He smiled at the woman, saluting her compliment with a slight bow.

“I think I’m going to bed too” Violet commented “I have training tomorrow morning”

Her motives were clearly true, but Liam knew that there was another underlying reason as soon as her eyes sent him a silent warning: you’re not off the hook.

“Relentless wingleader, huh?” Ridoc wiggled his brows “lucky woman”

Violet rolled her eyes at their squadmate, already used to the teasing that everyone put her through regarding Xaden. Liam waited for her by the door, closing it quietly after they left Rhiannon’s room.

“Spill” Violet crossed her arms “something is wrong”

Her pale eyes held the same analytic stare that made him slightly uncomfortable, the one that seemed to read right into his soul.

“You’re not gonna let this go, right?” he sighed.

She shook her head affirmatively “it has to do with the map we stole, so it is my business”

Liam pursed his lips, putting a hand on his pocket and remembering he left all carving tools in his room. Great.

“You’re worried, Liam. And I know it has to do with the map, please tell me what it is” she pleaded.

Liam felt frustration flood his system as the lie formed on his tongue. He could say that there was nothing wrong, that he was just tired. Or he could tell her his fears, tell her the dangers inside and out of that quadrant…but his brother came to mind alongside a promise Liam could not break.

But he wanted to. Liam wanted to tell her. Could he forfeit the promise to Xaden - whom he owed his and Sloane’s lives - in honor of a good friend?

“You know I won’t let them do anything to you, right?” Violet inquired “I’ll take responsibility if my mother decides to lash out. It was my idea after all.”

Liam stared at her in awe. He was no stranger to her protective side, but it was still an odd feeling when directed towards him. He was her shadow, her protector, her bodyguard…but Violet was ready to go against her own mother for someone like him.

“I know” he said “I trust you. It’s just unnerving, you know? Even the professors seemed uneasy, I don’t think they liked the fact we broke into a general’s office and stole such an important map”

There. Be vague about it. Not the full truth, but just enough to make her suspicious.

“Then it’s said general’s fault for not predicting cadets breaking into her office to begin with” Violet’s nose crinkled, signaling her defiance “and leadership’s fault for being too vague with squad battle rules, they knew the risks”

Of course her scribe brain would focus on technicalities, it was one of the reasons he admired her. Violet Sorrengail never took a step without thinking and he was hoping she would understand all of his hidden meanings.

“When you put it that way…” he replied “though your mother is still quite intimidating”

She groaned at his words, grasping her door handle and opening slightly “Believe me, the general might be intimidating but she won’t do anything to you or anyone for that matter. I won’t let it happen”

There was nothing but truth in her eyes and Liam felt like fucking shit.

Previous chapter

Next chapter

[faith-in-democracy]

Brace yourself for chaos. If Donald Trump returns to the White House, we’re in for a wild ride. His administration will not just tweak policies. It will go for the jugular of the American government and any opposition.

Trump's disdain for the establishment is no secret. This time, expect a more aggressive approach. Key institutions? Gutted. Regulatory bodies? Dismantled. His aim: to remove any checks on his power. It’s not just about shrinking government; it's about erasing it. He will stack the judiciary with loyalists, ensuring long-term control over the rule of law.

Civil servants will face the axe. Loyalty tests will become the norm. Trump’s inner circle will expand, filled with yes-men ready to push his agenda without question. The Justice Department? Expect it to serve as his personal enforcement squad. Dissent will not be tolerated. Whistleblowers will be silenced, and watchdogs defanged.

Trump's relationship with the media will hit new lows. He will work to discredit and dismantle independent journalism. His administration will flood the airwaves with propaganda, aiming to control the narrative completely.

Opposition groups, including activist organizations and political rivals, will be targeted. Expect increased surveillance and harassment. Free speech? It will be under siege. Trump’s goal will be to weaken, if not destroy, any and all opposition.

In short, a second Trump administration means the systematic dismantling of government as we know it. It’s not just a political shift. It’s a radical overhaul aimed at consolidating power and crushing dissent. Prepare for an unprecedented assault on democracy itself.

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Hi there, I have a relatively innocuous question regarding Ser Hugo Vance:

“Jaime concentrated on the fare before him, tearing off chunks of bread with his left hand and fumbling at his wine cup with his right. He watched Addam Marbrand charm the girl beside him, watched Steffon Swyft refight the battle for King's Landing with bread and nuts and carrots. Ser Kennos pulled a serving girl into his lap, urging her to stroke his horn, whilst Ser Dermot regaled some squires with tales of knight errantry in the rainwood. Farther down the table Hugo Vance had closed his eyes. Brooding on the mysteries of life, thought Jaime. That, or napping between courses.”

Jaime IV, AFFC

Basically, what is the significance of Hugo, whose family fought for Robb Stark and presumably lost men at the Red Wedding, casually having a kip during the feast at castle Darry?

Along with his brothers, Hugo is called a “friend and companion” to Edmure (who prefers their company to Catelyn’s). Even though all his brothers have survived, Catelyn sees Black Walder hamstring a Vance at the Red Wedding, so you’re right, it sounds like he’s at least lost relatives. His father, Norbert, had squired with Brynden Tully and offered to parley with him. It sounds like they have a personal connection with House Tully and don’t want to see them come to harm.

I think Hugo closing his eyes is a deliberate contrast to the cheerful Westerlands men (and Dermot, also in Joffrey’s service) who came to pacify the Riverlands. The Vances may be welcomed back to the king’s peace, but they’re not joining in the festivities at Darry. Jaime Lannister says: “Our new friends are no friends at all. Their loyalty goes no deeper than their skins…” (AFFC Jaime V). He knows that men like the Vances aren’t truly happy to have bent the knee as opposed to the victorious Westerlanders. It could be interpreted as a sign of disrespect (like some of the Dornish nobles refusing to drink to King Tommen) or even Jaime’s first reaction about Hugo brooding was more correct (they are in a Riverlands castle the Lannisters basically stole by killing its last lord and marrying one of their cousins off to a distant relative. And they’re joining the siege against their liege lord/close friend. I’d be brooding over this situation too).

Or it could be Hugo is just tired from days on the march. Either way, he’s not in the mood to party.

[wintearys]

𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔍𝔬𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔖𝔴𝔶𝔣𝔱, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔔𝔲𝔢𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔦.

Joanna Swyft is a member of House Swyft, the daughter of Ser Steffon Swyft, the heir of Cornfield. Steffon is part of the force that left King's Landing to end the siege of Riverrun under the command of Ser Jaime Lannister. Ser Jaime gives Steffon the command of the baggage train of the column. Steffon reenactes the Battle of the Blackwater using food at the dinner celebrating Ser Jaime's arrival at Darry. During Blackwater, Joanna is send to Court to serve Queen Cersei, where the young woman serves as a little spy for the Queen. The young woman has ambitions of her own regarding her house, wanting the title of heir of her house. Cersei promises to slip the servants moontea for her mother in order for no further heirs to be born in exchange of information. Joanna is aware that this also gives the queen an advantage to hang over her if she doubts her loyalties, like she waver after the Red Wedding, which she found horrific. Joanna has used her feminine charm as Cersei calls it to get information from knights and lords, and she fears the queen would speak of it. When the Queen is arrested, Joanna goes back to the Westerlands, like Taena, mostly to keep out of sight and quiet and a respite from the possibility of being taken too if the Faith finds out of her activties. With her grandfather growing ill and her father seen by many as unfit to rule, Joanna hopes to get the keys of the Castle to herself.Joanna was named after Cersei's mother herself, her father a close friend of the Lannisters. Joanna's plan is get herself a good husband and fast, and produce an heir, saying she will guardkeep the seat of her house for her future son until the time has come.