#This is her great grandson! He BESEECHED her

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 13

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“I can’t believe you would go out on Black Friday to grocery shop but I guess thanks for going out on Black Friday to grocery shop.” Aaron greets him with as FF moves over to the table.

Andrew and Captain Neil had apparently went out shopping.

Andrew and Captain Neil had apparently come back and have been in Andrew’s room for the past couple hours.

“Josten probably wanted to go to Excites for some gear. I don’t know what my brother sees in that Exy-obsessed jerk.” Aaron says as he eats his own smiley eggs and bacon. FF hears the sound of a hammer and a drill from Andrew’s room.

Heart in his throat he forces himself not to think about what Andrew and Captain Neil COULD be building.

(A guillotine, an iron maiden, that weird wedge thing that splits people in half at the groin, He should NOT have taken that Spanish history class. Oh god it’s probably a fence so he can’t escape whatever hunting ground Andrew is going to drag him to if he can’t buy his continued existence via baked good.)

“Shut up, they’re actually really sweet to one another.” Nicky chastises before turning to FF, “Because of that your final serving goes to Smithy. He deserves it more than you.” Nicky says and slides the final plate of eggs and bacon.

“He’s just as bothered by it as I am!” Aaron scowls.

“By what?” FF asks because there are a lot of things that bother him so Aaron is going to have to be more specific.

“By those two being all close. I’ve seen the way you turn and walk away.” Aaron reaches across the table for his bacon but FF just pushes the plate closer to him. The two plates he had already eaten were more than enough, especially after the full dinner that they’d had the night before. “You’re grossed out by it too right?” He asks as he goes to stab the bacon.

FF slides the plate away and Aaron stabs the table.

FF is NOT HOMOPHOBIC.

His gran raised him better than that.

“I don’t agree with you.” He says because he doesn’t but can’t bring himself to say anymore. He’s in Aaron’s house, he stole Aaron’s keys that morning to lock up the house.

(it was so rude but what if someone broke in because he left the house unlocked? What if someone got hurt just because he wanted to ensure his own survival? Isn’t it better that he just borrowed Aaron’s keys to make sure that no one in the house got hurt? Does FF still believe with every fiber of his being that Andrew Minyard is trying to murder him in this exact house? Yes. Can these concerns coexist peacefully? Also yes.)

If anything he finds Captain Neil and Andrew to be an incredibly nice couple. They talk about things together, they make plans about their future, their PDA was actually pretty minimal (especially in comparison to Aaron), and he had figured out the weird code Andrew talked in so he was pretty sure that Andrew and Neil loved one another.

The only issue he has with the couple is that they are out at a store probably buying supplies to torture and then kill FF.

Otherwise they were perfectly fine.

Aaron scowls, “You can’t be serious. You walk away faster than you run on the court when you see the two of them getting all gross.” He points with his fork and tries to grab the bacon again.

FF frowns deeper.

“I walk away even faster from you and your girlfriend.” He returns because Aaron and Katelyn are the couple who have been the MOST guilty of initiating something in front of him when he was in ‘Visible only when the sunlight strikes him at the exact right angle on the summer solstice’ mode.

 He had tried to clear his throat to get them to quit quite a few times but…well…he has heard Katelyn mention that one of her and Aaron’s favorite ‘hang out’ spots might be haunted….so he hadn’t been overly successful.

“PDA makes me uncomfortable in general. Captain Neil and Andrew are a very nice couple who you shouldn’t talk bad about.” He defends as one of the only people who would know exactly how thoughtful the two were to one another.

He hopes his Gran is proud of him for saying something.

Aaron looks at him with a twisted mouth for a while before relenting, “Fine they’re not that bad. It’s just a big brother thing.” Aaron rolls his eyes.

FF swallows down some acid in his throat and pushes the smiling eggs and bacon over to Aaron who smiles back at the breakfast and proceeds to eat it.

A big brother thing.

FF gets up and heads over to the final bag that Andrew had left out on the counter. FF had bought some additional offerings for his mortal soul to tide Andrew over while he made the brownies. It’s also where the incense and his latest two five hour energies should still be.

He finds the incense, wonders if he hallucinated the five hour energies (very possible), and hands Nicky a box of sour patch kids to distract him when he comes over.

“Smithy, why the hell are you lighting incense?” Nicky asks because the sour patch kids were NEVER going to be enough to distract Nicky. That would take something on the level of Swedish Fish but he’d been more focused on avoiding the candy thrown by an irate woman towards a member of Target staff because the grocery department couldn’t get her the redemption coupon for one of the flat screens in the Electronic department so he had FAILED to procure them. He’d even seen a box sail through the air is bullet time because his brain was too hopped up on Five Hour Energy but he’d let it go believing he could just grab a box at check out. THEN HE ZONED OUT IN THE CHECK OUT LINE AS HE STARED AT BOTH THE FUTURE AND THE PAST AND FORGOT HE WAS IN THE PRESENT WHERE HE HADN’T GOTTEN THE DAMN SWEDISH FISH.

“I’m going to make my Great Grandma’s brownies.” He says in response, “I’m hoping to channel her so I don’t mess up.” He says.

“Oh! More grandma baking goodies?! I can be your assistant baker! What do you need?” Nicky says visibly vibrating with excitement at the prospect. “We can listen to Mariah and I can lick the spoon!”

There is a noise of revulsion from the kitchen table.

“Don’t let him lick the spoon Smiths! He gets WEIRD about it.”

“That sounds like what someone who wants to lick the spoon would say.”

“Oh shut up!”

“That’s not a NO!”

The cousins continue to argue about spoon licking rights as FF gets started checking to make sure that the kitchen has all the necessary equipment to even make his brownies. He’d been so tired (last night? This morning?) that he hadn’t thought about even checking that the cousins would have things like a glass bowl, an baking dish, pie tin, etc.

Thankfully FOR ONCE luck is on his side and FF does not have to walk back to the Target.

So he finishes pulling out everything he’ll need, getting the oven pre-heated, and pulling out the ingredients for the brownies from the fridge.

He lights some incense with the stove top burners sends a quick prayer up and wonders if maybe a ouija board would have been better but if the Home Goods section had been a dangerous spot then the toy section would have been like walking into an active war zone. There are no laws as far as parents are concerned when it comes to getting the ‘it’ toy for their kids. FF has watched the highs and lows of humanity in the Barbie aisle more than once.

So he melts chocolate, he sifts flour and sugar, he separates eggs, and he uses every muscle that Kevin’s insane work out regiment had given his arms to whip those egg whites into stiff peaks. He knows his great gran is with him when Nicky and Aaron continue to argue (they are now talking about the ethics of licking the spoon vs. licking the bowl? He doesn’t quite get how they got there but alright) so Nicky doesn’t hear him say “Stiff Peaks Acquired” to himself because he knows Nicky well enough to know that he would have NEVER heard the end of it.

He uses all of the delicacy his gran had ever tried to teach him to fold those egg whites into the chocolate and then to fold in the flour and sugar. There are more steps, more ingredients, but unless you are family then those are CLASSIFIED.

Great Gran had always been the suspicious sort.

The oven beeps to let him know it’s done pre-heating as he’s carefully transferring his great gran’s life’s work into the baking dish.

He was so focused that he hadn’t even realized that Andrew was back until he turned to do the dishes and found Andrew holding the bowl and running his fingers through the scant remaining mix and shoving it into his mouth.

He is surprise that the scream remains in his head. He’s even more surprised that he stays upright. Maybe the nap did him some good even if it let Andrew and Captain Neil build whatever torture device they were intending to use on him.

He really needs to drink some pepto. He doesn’t think that Andrew will pause their ‘The Most Dangerous Game’ recreation to let FF manage his ulcers. Andrew is staring straight at him.

Andrew offers him the spoon.

FF declines. Raw eggs, sugar, and chocolate? With THIS stomach? He’d almost prefer to be chased through whatever enclosure Andrew is going to drag him to.

“When did you wake up?” Andrew asks.

“Hour ago.” He answers.

“Hm.”

“I’ll make the pie tomorrow.” he ventures trying to extend his life by another day.

Andrew shoves the spoon into his own mouth after that and walks out into the dining room. FF hears both Aaron and Nicky’s cries of anguish.

FF looks at the brownies in the oven at the incense burning on the counter and wonders if that was Andrew’s way of confirming his stay of execution.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

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[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ACOK: Sansa VIII (Chapter 65)

My little kumquat! 😘

King Joffrey sat above them all, amongst the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne. He was in crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies, on his head his heavy golden crown.

Joffrey is dressed like a Targaryen. Remember this, we'll circle back.

+.+.+

The Lord of Casterly Rock made such an impressive figure that it was a shock when his destrier dropped a load of dung right at the base of the throne. Joffrey had to step gingerly around it as he descended to embrace his grandfather and proclaim him Savior of the City.

✨ metaphors ✨

+.+.+

Pride of place was given to Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, a once-powerful man gone to fat, yet still handsome. His sons followed him in; Ser Loras and his older brother Ser Garlan the Gallant. The three dressed alike, in green velvet trimmed with sable.

[...]

Ser Garlan Tyrell, five years senior to Ser Loras, was a taller bearded version of his more famous younger brother. He was thicker about the chest and broader at the shoulders, and though his face was comely enough, he lacked Ser Loras's startling beauty.

Kind of interesting, kind of not: at the end of the last Sansa chapter we learn Renly Baratheon saved the city. Fast-forward to this chapter, where they're recognizing all heroes and their deeds during the battle, and Renly is never once mentioned.

Extremely confusing for the reader, and I don't think we get any clarification until the next book. The only clue is the Tyrells dressed in green, and a description of Garlan's body type.

George loves being a little shit.

+.+.+

"The roses support the lion, as the might of Highgarden supports the realm," proclaimed Joffrey. "If there is any boon you would ask of me, ask and it shall be yours."

And now it comes, thought Sansa.

[...]

"Your Grace," Garlan said when the king approached him, "I have a maiden sister, Margaery, the delight of our House. She was wed to Renly Baratheon, as you know, but Lord Renly went to war before the marriage could be consummated, so she remains innocent. Margaery has heard tales of your wisdom, courage, and chivalry, and has come to love you from afar. I beseech you to send for her, to take her hand in marriage, and to wed your House to mine for all time."

King Joffrey made a show of looking surprised. "Ser Garlan, your sister's beauty is famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms, but I am promised to another. A king must keep his word."

Queen Cersei got to her feet in a rustle of skirts. "Your Grace, in the judgment of your small council, it would be neither proper nor wise for you to wed the daughter of a man beheaded for treason, a girl whose brother is in open rebellion against the throne even now. Sire, your councillors beg you, for the good of your realm, set Sansa Stark aside. The Lady Margaery will make you a far more suitable queen."

[...]

Joffrey raised a hand. "I would like to heed the wishes of my people, Mother, but I took a holy vow."

The High Septon stepped forward. "Your Grace, the gods hold bethrothal solemn, but your father, King Robert of blessed memory, made this pact before the Starks of Winterfell had revealed their falseness. Their crimes against the realm have freed you from any promise you might have made. So far as the Faith is concerned, there is no valid marriage contract 'twixt you and Sansa Stark."

[...]

Sansa leaned forward, her hands tight around the gallery's wooden rail. She knew what came next, but she was still frightened of what Joffrey might say, afraid that he would refuse to release her even now, when his whole kingdom depended upon it. She felt as if she were back again on the marble steps outside the Great Sept of Baelor, waiting for her prince to grant her father mercy, and instead hearing him command Ilyn Payne to strike off his head. Please, she prayed fervently, make him say it, make him say it.

Lord Tywin was looking at his grandson. Joff gave him a sullen glance, shifted his feet, and helped Ser Garlan Tyrell to rise. "The gods are good. I am free to heed my heart. I will wed your sweet sister, and gladly, ser."

This whole scene is scripted, but the author reminds us Joffrey doesn't always follow the plan. I would not be surprised to learn George meant to convey Joffrey was waffling, and that look from Tywin was necessary.

Side note, we have betrothals being broken by Kings in back-to-back chapters. Sadly, one side is more crafty about it.

+.+.+

"Yes. But if I'm not to be queen, what will become of me?"

We don't have to worry about that.

+.+.+

The queen was irritated by that. "You should have learned by now, none of us get the things we want."

Oh, but Sansa does. We already know that.

+.+.+

Next came four of lesser birth who had distinguished themselves in the fighting: the one-eyed knight Ser Philip Foote, who had slain Lord Bryce Caron in single combat; the freerider Lothor Brune, who'd cut his way through half a hundred Fossoway men-at-arms to capture Ser Jon of the green apple and kill Ser Bryan and Ser Edwyd of the red, thereby winning himself the name Lothor Apple-Eater; Willit, a grizzled man-at-arms in the service of Ser Harys Swyft, who'd pulled his master from beneath his dying horse and defended him against a dozen attackers; and a downy-cheeked squire named Josmyn Peckledon, who had killed two knights, wounded a third, and captured two more, though he could not have been more than fourteen. Willit was borne in on a litter, so grievous were his wounds.

Ser Kevan had taken a seat beside his brother Lord Tywin. When the heralds had finished telling of each hero's deeds, he rose. "It is His Grace's wish that these good men be rewarded for their valor. By his decree, Ser Philip shall henceforth be Lord Philip of House Foote, and to him shall go all the lands, rights, and incomes of House Caron. Lothor Brune to be raised to the estate of knighthood, and granted land and keep in the riverlands at war's end. To Josmyn Peckledon, a sword and suit of plate, his choice of any warhorse in the royal stables, and knighthood as soon as he shall come of age. And lastly, for Goodman Willit, a spear with a silver-banded haft, a hauberk of new-forged ringmail, and a full helm with visor. Further, the goodman's sons shall be taken into the service of House Lannister at Casterly Rock, the elder as a squire and the younger as a page, with the chance to advance to knighthood if they serve loyally and well. To all this, the King's Hand and the small council consent."

Sorry for making you read that, but I get super paranoid when we spend this much time on four random nobodies.

Ser Philip Foote is a one-eyed knight who is given Lord Bryce Caron's lands after he kills him. In ADWD, Philip's claim to those lands will be challenged by Lord Bryce Caron's bastard half-brother.

Lothor Brune enters the service of Littlefinger. He will eventually protect Sansa from Marillion, and develop a crush on Mya Stone. He has been promised land and keep in the riverlands when the war is finished.

Nothing noteworthy about Goodman Willit, but the man he serves, Ser Harys Swyft, is trapped under a horse during the battle.

Josmyn Peckledon, or Peck, shares commonalities with Podrick Payne. He'll later become Jaime Lannister's squire, and frequently sleep with Pia. He burns Cersei's letter to Jaime.

There might be something here, but I feel like I have to bend myself in a pretzel to get there.

+.+.+

A more significant lordship by far was granted to Ser Lancel Lannister. Joffrey awarded him the lands, castle, and rights of House Darry, whose last child lord had perished during the fighting in the riverlands, "leaving no trueborn heirs of lawful Darry blood, but only a bastard cousin."

Oh yeah? A Lannister is going to claim the lands and castle of a decimated family with no trueborn heirs, with the exception of a bastard cousin?

Is Kevan Lannister going to marry his son Lancel to Amerei Frey, the eldest daughter of the female heir to Darry, to strengthen his claim over the Darry lands?

Stealth jonsa. Pretty sure that bastard is still alive too.

+.+.+

The Imp was said to be dying as well, from a terrible cut to the head.

As if I'm that lucky.

+.+.+

Sansa had not heard of Littlefinger doing anything especially heroic during the battle, but it seemed he was to be rewarded all the same.

Ser Kevan got back to his feet. "It is the wish of the King's Grace that his loyal councillor Petyr Baelish be rewarded for faithful service to crown and realm. Be it known that Lord Baelish is granted the castle of Harrenhal with all its attendant lands and incomes, there to make his seat and rule henceforth as Lord Paramount of the Trident. Petyr Baelish and his sons and grandsons shall hold and enjoy these honors until the end of time, and all the lords of the Trident shall do him homage as their rightful liege. The King's Hand and the small council consent."

On his knees, Littlefinger raised his eyes to King Joffrey. "I thank you humbly, Your Grace. I suppose this means I'll need to see about getting some sons and grandsons."

He does not mean with Lysa.

I can't tell if this is sloppy writing, or if Roose and Tywin are already fully allied, and Littlefinger knows everything.

We'll learn at the end of this chapter that the plot to kill Joffrey is in full motion, and only a month away. Killing Joffrey, when Robb is still alive, is a great way to turn the tides in favour of House Stark and ensure you never get your castle.

Either Littlefinger already knows Robb is a dead man (Impressive, given the marriage alliance with House Frey was just broken), or George didn't think the timeline of this one through.

Or maybe he really is an agent of chaos.

+.+.+

Lord Paramount of the Trident, Sansa thought, and Lord of Harrenhal as well. She did not understand why that should make him so happy; the honors were as empty as the title granted to Hallyne the Pyromancer. Harrenhal was cursed, everyone knew that, and the Lannisters did not even hold it at present. Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed.

Arya can't figure out what princess is betrothed to a Frey, meanwhile Sansa's over here piecing together the plot of ASOS.

I'm SORRY, it's funny!

+.+.+

Robb has beaten them every time. He'll beat Lord Baelish too, if he must.

Sorry hun, your brother can't be relied upon, you're going to have to defeat him yourself. We believe in you.

+.+.+

More than six hundred new knights were made that day. They had held their vigil in the Great Sept of Baelor all through the night and crossed the city barefoot that morning to prove their humble hearts.

[...]

Some had bloody feet from their walk through the city, but they stood tall and proud all the same, it seemed to Sansa.

+.+.+

But no sooner had that one been dragged away than a knight of solemn mien with a fiery heart on his surcoat shouted out, "Stannis is the true king! A monster sits the Iron Throne, an abomination born of incest!"

"Be silent," Ser Kevan Lannister bellowed.

The knight raised his voice instead. "Joffrey is the black worm eating the heart of the realm! Darkness was his father, and death his mother! Destroy him before he corrupts you all! Destroy them all, queen whore and king worm, vile dwarf and whispering spider, the false flowers. Save yourselves!" One of the gold cloaks knocked the man off his feet, but he continued to shout. "The scouring fire will come! King Stannis will return!"

Are we sure this is about Joffrey?

+.+.+

Joffrey lurched to his feet. "I'm king! Kill him! Kill him now! I command it." He chopped down with his hand, a furious, angry gesture . . . and screeched in pain when his arm brushed against one of the sharp metal fangs that surrounded him. The bright crimson samite of his sleeve turned a darker shade of red as his blood soaked through it. "Mother!" he wailed.

With every eye on the king, somehow the man on the floor wrested a spear away from one of the gold cloaks, and used it to push himself back to his feet. "The throne denies him!" he cried. "He is no king!"

[...]

They say the Iron Throne can be perilous cruel to those who were not meant to sit it.

Hey, remember how Joffrey is dressed like a Targaryen? :)

+.+.+

"The queen will never let you go, never. You are too valuable a hostage. And Joffrey . . . sweetling, he is still king. If he wants you in his bed, he will have you, only now it will be bastards he plants in your womb instead of trueborn sons."

My stance is there will be no bastards in Sansa's womb.

+.+.+

"When?" Sansa asked. "When will we go?"

"The night of Joffrey's wedding. After the feast. All the necessary arrangements have been made. The Red Keep will be full of strangers. Half the court will be drunk and the other half will be helping Joffrey bed his bride. For a little while, you will be forgotten, and the confusion will be our friend."

"The wedding won't be for a moon's turn yet. Margaery Tyrell is at Highgarden, they've only now sent for her."

"You've waited so long, be patient awhile longer. Here, I have something for you." Ser Dontos fumbled in his pouch and drew out a silvery spiderweb, dangling it between his thick fingers.

It was a hair net of fine-spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. "What stones are these?"

"Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight."

"It's very lovely," Sansa said, thinking, It is a ship I need, not a net for my hair.

"Lovelier than you know, sweet child. It's magic, you see. It's justice you hold. It's vengeance for your father." Dontos leaned close and kissed her again. "It's home."

Tiny clues already hiding in the text.

Dany's tight silver collar was chafing against her throat. She unfastened it and flung it aside. The collar was set with an enchanted amethyst that Xaro swore would ward her against all poisons. - Daenerys III, ACOK

Anyway, more sloppy writing:

Littlefinger and Lady Olenna have already planned Joffrey's murder at this point (Great job sending Littlefinger, Tyrion), so how come Lady Olenna interrogates Sansa over Joffrey's character in the next book?

Are you telling me she's on the fence? Sansa has to convince her to go through with it? Because I don't think Littlefinger would accept her backing out of something like that, nor do I think he requires her participation.

Am I missing something? Usually I am.

Final thoughts:

Tyrion is never once mentioned or thanked during their wank fest in the throne room, and I was smiling about it the entire time. Loser.

-> return to menu <-

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

NYT OP-ED

I Don’t Want to See a High School Football Coach Praying at the 50-Yard Line

by Anne Lamott

Many of us who believe in a reality beyond the visible realms, who believe in a soul that survives death, and who are hoping for seats in heaven near the dessert table, also recoil from the image of a high school football coach praying at the 50-yard line.

It offends me to see sanctimonious public prayer in any circumstance — but a coach holding his players hostage while an audience watches his piety makes my skin crawl.

We are fighting furiously for women’s rights and the planet, and we mean business. We believers march, rally and agitate, putting feet to our prayers. And in our private lives, we pray.

Isn’t praying a bit Teletubbies as we face off with the urgent darkness?Nah.

Prayer means talking to God, or to the great universal spirit, a.k.a. Gus, or to Not Me. Prayer connects us umbilically to a spirit both outside and within us, who hears and answers. Is it like the comedian Flip Wilson saying, “I’m gonna pray now; anyone want anything?”

Kind of.

I do not understand much about string theory, but I do know we are vibrations, all the time. Between the tiny strings is space in which change can happen. The strings are infinitesimal; the space between nearly limitless. Prayer says to that space, I am tiny, helpless, needy, worried, but there’s nothing I can do except send my love into that which is so much bigger than me.

How do people like me who believe entirely in science and reason also believe that prayer can heal and restore? Well, I’ve seen it happen a thousand times in my own inconsequential life. God seems like a total showoff to me, if perhaps unnecessarily cryptic.

When I pray for all the places where we see Christ crucified — Ukraine, India, the refugee camps — I see in my heart and in the newspaper that goodness draws near, through UNICEF, Doctors Without Borders, volunteers, through motley old us.

I wake up praying. I say a prayer some sober people told me to pray 36 years ago, because when all else fails, follow instructions. It helps me to not fixate on who I am, but on whose. I am God’s adorable, aging, self-centered, spaced-out beloved. One man in early sobriety told me that he had come into recovery as a hotshot but that other sober men helped him work his way up to servant. I pray to be a good servant because I’ve learned that this is the path of happiness. I pray for my family and all my sick friends that they have days of grace and healing, and I end my prayers, “Make me ever mindful of the needs of the poor.”

Then I put on my glasses, let the dog out to pee and start my day. I will have horrible thoughts about others, typically the Christian right or the Supreme Court, or someone who has seriously crossed me, whose hair I pray falls out or whose book fails. I say to God, as I do every Sunday in confession: “Look — I think we can both see what we have on our hands here. Help me not be such a pill.”

It is miserable to be a hater. I pray to be more like Jesus with his crazy compassion and reckless love. Some days go better than others. I pray to remember that God loves Marjorie Taylor Greene exactly the same as God loves my grandson, because God loves, period. God does not have an app for Not Love. God sees beyond each person’s awfulness to each person’s needs. God loves them, as is. God is better at this than I am.

I lift up one of my grown Sunday school kids who is in the I.C.U. with anorexia. I beseech God to intervene, and she does, through finding my girl a great nurse later that day. (Nurses are God’s answer 35 percent of the time). My prayer says to whoever might be listening, “I care about her and have no idea what to do, but to hold her in my heart and turn her over to something that might do better than me.” And I hear what to do next — make her one of my world-famous care packages — overpriced socks, a journal, and needless to say, communion elements tailored to her: almonds and sugar-free gum. It’s love inside wrapping paper.

Especially when I travel, I talk to so many people who are absolutely undone by all the miseries of the world, and I can’t do anything for them but listen, commiserate and offer to pray. I can’t turn politics around, or war, or the climate, but in listening, by opening my heart to someone in trouble, I create with them more love, less of a grippy clench in our little corner of the universe.

When I get onstage for a talk or an interview, I pray to say words that will help the people in the audience who feel most defeated. When I got to interview Hillary Clinton in Seattle a few years ago, we prayed this prayer huddled in a corner backstage — to bring hope to the hopeless.

Do I honestly think these kinds of prayers were heard, and helpful?

Definitely.

On good days, I feel (slightly) more neutral toward Ginni Thomas and the high school coach praying after games. I pray the great prayer of “Thanks” all day, for my glorious messy family, husband and life; for my faith, my sobriety; for nature; for all that is still here and still works after so much has been taken from us.

When I am at my most rattled or in victimized self-righteousness, I go for walks, another way to put my feet to prayer. I pray for help, and in some dimension outside of my mind or language, I relax. I can breathe again. I say, “Thank you.” I say, “Thank you for the same flowers and trees and ferns and cactuses I pass every day.” I say, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.

A walk is a great prayer. To make eye contact and smile is a kind of prayer, and it changes you. Fields and woods are the kingdom. You don’t say, “Oh, there’s a dark-eyed junco flitting around that same old pine tree; whatever,” or: “Look at those purple wildflowers. I’ve seen those a dozen times.” You are silent. There may be no one around you and the forest will speak to you in the way it will speak to an animal. And that changes you.

At bedtime I pray again for my sick friends, and the refugees. I beg for sleep. I give thanks for the blessings of the day. I rest into the vision of the pearly moon outside my window that looks like a porthole to a bigger reality, sigh and close my tired eyes.

I have the theological understanding of a bright 8-year-old, but Jesus says we need to approach life like children, not like cranky know-it-alls, crazily busy, clutching our to-do lists. One of my daily prayers is, “Slow me down, Girlfriend.” The prayer changes me. It breaks the toxic trance. God says to Moses the first time they meet, “Take off your shoes.” Be on the earth. Breathe with me a moment.

[NY Times]

[vesperlionheart]

Sirens of the Sea, 12, and gaasaku for a friend. If you do it thank you so much

The Spirit of the Oasis - GaaSaku  (5.5K)

There are stories of miracles that are whispered in shadows, behind hands, and over night time campfires because they need to be, and not because they are true or worth believing. Least of these stories are the ones of the oases that bloom for the pure of heart who are most in need of them. Magic carpets, cities of brass, and enchanted flutes were all a poor man’s fantasy and Gaara was no longer a poor man, so there was no use in believing in such stories. 

“You think you’re too good for old Baba’s stories?” Chiyo teased Gaara.”My grandson thought that way too.”

“I’m not going to end up like your grandson,” Gaara grumbled, hating how he had to show his elder such respect when all she did was tease him. 

“That’s what he said too, when I told him about my lover who said the same damn thing,” Chiyo laughed, slapping her knee while her brother fed another log to the fire from beside her, silent as ever. 

Gaara winced, unable to clear his mind of the mental image of old bad Chiyo having someone she could call a lover. It was such a dirty sounding word when she said it. 

“That’s...understandable I suppose,” Gaara forced to grit out.

“You ain’t gonna ask me what my lover did or what happened to ‘em?” Chiyo whined playfully.

Gaara really didn’t want to ask. 

“What happened, elder?”  

But he was a good kid.

Chiyo’s beady black eyes sparkles from underneath the sagging of her skin, heavy with bushy gray brows. “Hey commissioned a friend to map the desert for the brass rider and got that far before the way was no longer for them.”

“What does that mean, baba?” Temari asked. 

Behind Gaara his brother and sister sat on their own mats, drinking from the elder’s stash of wine and gorging themselves on her food. Gaara took only enough to be polite but did not consume. He was the head of his tribe now, he couldn’t afford to piss off an elder. 

“He had received the words of his elder, to travel across the desert, to seek the aid of the brass rider, and follow where it would lead. But with no faith, he relied on his friend the cartographer to map his steps. Without faith he was a lost one, as was my daughter, as was her husband, as was their child, my grandson.”  

Baba Chiyo reached into her sack cloth dress and pulled out the blue powder before throwing it onto the fire, changing the color of the flames and making their burning smell sweeter. Kankuro leaned forward in his seat, excited by the change blue powder produced. It was a simple traveler’s trick, nothing but small science, but to a people without education, Gaara understood how it could seem like magic. 

“It is a sin to seek without faith.”

“It is foolish indeed,” Temari agreed, always the faithful daughter. When the mystics had said the murderer of their mother and not she who was first born would lead their tribe she had bent her head in thanks for the prophecy and never questioned it. She should have hated him but her faith saved him from that life of neglect, so as much as Gaara wanted to sneer and think himself wiser than the superstitious sand witch, he would honor her words and listen. 

“Are we called to seek, wise woman?” Kankuro asked. 

Chiyo cackled and rocked back in her seat while her brother poked at the fire. “Are you destined for greatness, or does the bird long to fly? Which is easier to answer, I ask you?”

“It is a great honor to be so star blessed,” Temari whispered, watching Kankuro with soft eyes and softer thoughts. When she looked to Gaara her softness didn’t lessen and he felt all the safer for it. In the absence of their mother, Temari had been his maternal comfort for all those years. He would not deny her this. 

“Speak of our fate, elder,” Gaara said as he lowered his face to the sand and the ground. He touched it to his fingers and closed his eyes. “I beseech you, speak it.” 

Between them the blue fire crackled and the desert night spun on. Eventually, Chiyo breaks the silence and Gaara knows he is allowed to lift his face to her once more. 

“I will say this then, you own a great and vast land, and on that land you have built up your father’s estate so that is the envy of others, but it yet lacks three things. The first is this, a talking bird who speaks only wisdom, second is the tree that sings prophecies, and third is the golden water from the fountain without end. Come into possession of these three things and you will be made far greater than any that came before you in the tribe of the Wind.” 

“Oh elder, these are grade items indeed, but how would we begin to find them?” Temari asked, already sounding in love with the idea. Gaara stayed quiet, content to honor his sister with whatever she wanted within reason. 

Chiyo waved to the fire and the draft that followed her hand made the flames flicker. “You should travel for three days in the direction of the sun’s birthing, and then you will find a fallen king who has traded his riches for humility. Treat him kindly and he will tell you where to find your three treasures.” 

Gaara glanced sideways at his brother, grimacing at the star struck look in Kankuro’s eyes. Sometimes he was no better than their sister when it came to matters of fate. 

The night grew long and Gaara bid Chiyo and her brother farewell, departing with his siblings back to their tribe and back to their manor. They slept soundly through the night, but the morning had nothing but turmoil for them. 

As luck would have it, Kankuro became obsessed with the idea and in short order packed up and headed out on his adventure to seek his fortune, both for himself and for the family. And for all of Temari’s faith she did not want to risk the life of her brother. She begged Kankuro to reconsider, but the middle child was unswayable. 

“Take your hawk with you,” Gaara instructed. “If he should return to us for any reason we will know you have perished and mourn you properly.”

The suggestion only made Temari more upset but Kankuro gathered up the leathers and hood for his hunting hawk and promised the both of them he would return with enough riches to make them sultans.  

Yet seven days later his hawk returned itself to their garden and the whole house mourned for the loss of the firstborn son. 

“This is the price of faith,” Gaara said to his sister in his anger, only to regret his words hours later once his spirit had cooled. 

He tried to apologize but Temari had locked the doors to her chambers and forbid the servants entry. She kept her doors shut no matter the hour of the day. Gaara ordered her favorite dishes be made, her favorite coffee be brewed, and even burned her favorite spices to coax her out, but his sister was unreachable for days. 

Four days later Gaara had reached the end of his patience and ordered her doors be broken down. He refused to let his sister starve herself and leave him too. She was all he had left and the thought of life without her-

“She’s not here, my lord!” 

Gaara’s thoughts unraveled. “What do you mean?” 

The servant produced a note and bowed low. “She has fled and taken her hunting hawk with her. Mercy, my lord, we did not know.”

Kankuro’s headstone had not been planted yet and already he was to commission a second? The thought turned his blood to ice.

 “Make ready my horse.”   

Gaara rode for a day to the edge of his territory before he saw his sister’s hawk, flying to greet him along the way. In the wild desert he cried aloud, summoning it down so that he could weep over it’s feathers and scream for the audience of his animals. No one could hear him in the desert so he let his heart show. Nowhere else would he be so honest. 

“You have forsaken me, you have gone where I can not!” he cried into the sands for nearly the rest of the day. 

When night fell Gaara noticed his horse had run off and the hawk had disappeared with it, leaving him truly alone. He took shelter under the shade of a rock outpost and rested there. 

The morning came, and with it, thirst. All his food and water had been tied up under his saddle bags, leaving him with nothing more than his shoes and clothes. He had a small bag of money, but in the middle of the desert it was more worthless than dirt. 

“I have wasted too many tears on my family, soon I will join them. If only there would be someone left to miss me.”

Gaara stood and trekked in the direction of his home, not realizing his sense of direction was off.  At the end of the second day he was weak and too tired to rouse himself further, so he took shelter under some more rocks and cried without tears. 

He was the youngest, what were they thinking making him their chief! He had been the only one with enough good sense to resist Chiyo’s silly superstitions and look where that got him; his faithful sister lost, his older brother dead. 

His head swam with exhaustion and dehydration, so when he looked up and saw an oasis growing out of the dead earth he did not believe the sight of it. How silly for his brain to play such a mean trick on him. An oasis would bloom for the faithful in their time of need, the old stories said. 

 Out of all his siblings he had the least faith. What had faith done for Kankuro or Temari? 

But his body felt like something he no longer controlled as he roused himself and staggered towards the mirage, smelling wildflowers and water in the air. His feet touched the stone and then the earth, soaked and wet before he fell onto his knees and plunged his hands into the water, sinking them up to his elbows in the cool pool. He cried aloud, bringing some to his mouth to drink. He turned greedy for the taste of it and gorged himself until he felt like an ocean rested in his belly. 

“Satisfied?”  a voice teased from somewhere behind him. 

Gaara turned, stumbling to see, perched atop one of the rocks, a woman with pale hair, paler skin, and eyes as vibrant as emeralds. Her smile cut her lips into something spellbinding, as Gaara found himself transfixed at the sight of her. 

She laughed at his expression and rolled off the rocks, drifting more than falling. Behind her the long train of her dress trailed, curling with the breeze until she stood in front of him. Gaara felt his throat grow tight as he tried to swallow and keep his eyes off the way a slit in the fabrics cut all the way up to her thigh, showing off leagues of soft flesh. 

“You look even cuter when you’re startled, I think,” she laughed, kneeling down so she was closer to his level. 

Gaara’s eyes kept wavering, too amazed by the curve of her uncovered shoulders and bare arms. He could see so much of her, more than he was used to seeing in a desert landscape where sundeath was as common as thirst. 

She wasn’t human.

“Temptress,” he choked out. “I’ve been seduced into your lair and now you’re going to-to kill me here.”

She blinked in surprise and then burst out laughing, standing suddenly to better grab at her stomach as the mirth of his words shook her shoulders. “Temptress?” she gasped. “I’m not even an angel this time? You must be a heretic of some sort.”

“I know no spring or oasis would open itself for one with my miniscule faith. I am not delusional,” Gaara struggled to answer.  

“I’m not going to eat you, silly heathen.”

“Then you mean to deflower me!” he accused, backing away, face red and warm from the admission.

“A tempting offer, but no. I’m not in the habit of seducing half dead heartbroken boys so you may rest easy, Gaara of the wind tribe, I’m not here to do you any ill.” She swept the train of her dress behind her and dipped low into an old fashioned bow from before bows became reserved for men exclusively. “I am Sakura, and I simply wished to save your life.” 

“Wh-what benefit is there for you to do so?”

“Are you not wealthy?” she teased.

Gaara reached for the pouch of coins and tossed the bag at her feet. It opened and spilled, scattering glittering coins of silver, bronze, and gold. He eyed her warily to see what she would do next.

Sakura sighed and rolled her eyes, tilting her head back to better see the stars. Behind her the short cut of her sunset pink hair shifted, nearly ethereal in how it moved without touching her shoulders.  

“I have no use for your silver, boy, take these back,” she said, motioning with her bare toes to the spilled coins. “I risk so much for far greater rewards, such you could never pay.” 

“What do you want from me then?” Gaara asked, making no move to gather his money pouch. 

“Sit with me among the flowers and talk awhile. In the morning I will send you off with food and water. I swear upon the stars no ill will come to you from me here in this oasis.” 

Gaara hesitated. The creature before him was not human, she was a being of magic and starlight, one who could bloom waters in the desert and command the plants to flower with fruit. Beautiful as she was, Gaara didn’t want to make the mistake of thinking her mediocre. If she was truly a creature from Chiyo’s tales, he needed to show her reverence.

Gaara shifted, folding his legs under him until they were bent. He touched his face to the ground and bowed low. “Great spirit, I thank you for your mercy. I shall do as you bid me.”

“Sakura,” she breathed, chuckling. “Please just call me Sakura. Now stand and join me by the flowers. You must tell me of your quest.” 

Gaara climbed to his feet and saw her hand offered where he could reach and grab it. He hesitated before accepting, and Sakura led him to a natural stone table with benches on either side. A pair of goblets had already been set out with sweet wine and plates overflowing with ripe fruits waited for him.

He sat and told her the story of his sister and brother, about how he wanted to at the very least, find their bodies and bring them back. He told her of Chiyo’s stories, of the talking bird and other treasures. He told her of the Wind Tribe, of his people who were strong and vast. He told her of the prophecies around his birth. He told her of the elders who raised him. He told her of his favorite steed, and hunting bird. He told her of where he ran the fastest and where he meditated. 

Before he could help it, he was spilling all his secrets to her, eager to appease her and win a small smile. She was a creature of magic, maybe even one of the star children. It made sense to appease her like how he appeased Chiyo and the sultan. 

But he never wanted Chiyo to smile at him that much. 

He never wished the sultan to laugh at his stories or ask him more. 

Soon the dawn’s pale light cut open the sky and filled it with color. Sakura stood from their table and he watched her move, marveling at the way she seemed more like water than flesh. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, standing to follow her. She stopped at the edge of her oasis and pointed. 

“I will show you where to go. Three days hard ride from here there will be a humbled king who speak to you. Be kind and listen, for he will tell you what you need to know,” Sakura said. 

“What about you?” Gaara asked.

Sakura smiled coyly and cupped two hands around her lips. She cried out, loud and clear a whistle that cut the desert air in half. A moment later Gaara heard the whinny of his favorite mare. 

“Look, she approaches,” Sakura said of his horse. “And with her she brings Temari’s hunting hawk. Take them both with you.”

“Sakura.” When she didn’t respond Gaara touched her hand, drawing her attention once more. “What will happen to you now?”

“I will go to where I always go. Should you be in need of me again, call out at nightfall and I may just appear.” 

“Promise?”

“Never,” Sakura laughed before she melted under his hand into water foam along with the rest of her oasis. 

Gaara reached for her desperately, trying to gather her up, but the foam dissolved on his fingers and even the scent of her was a memory.  

“Sakura?” he tried calling. Only the wind tickled his face, teasing him as his mare whinnied for his attention. 

After calling and searching, Gaara realized Sakura really was gone and that he had best do as she instructed, so he mounted his mare and turned the horse in the direction of the humbled king. Fed and watered his horse carried him over vast distances until dusk fell and he turned in for the night, taking shelter under the stars. 

He made a fire to fight off the desert cold and ate and drank of his goods. Before the stars could come out he dared one more call to Sakura. 

At first there was nothing. He watched and waited but no oasis bloomed. There were no flowers there was no water and no Sakura. 

“Was it a silly dream?” he wondered aloud.

“Dreams rarely feed us, Gaara,” Sakura teased, sitting down beside him. 

He nearly jumped when her arm brushed his. “Sakura? Wh-what are you doing here? You didn’t come when I called.”

“I am not your servant, young lord,” she teased, batting at his face when he came too close. “I shall come and go as I please. You are lonely, you need company, don’t you?” 

“I am quite lonely out here. Who else would listen to my voice but the wind.” 

“Oh the wind makes horrible conversation, all it talks about is the same dull things.”

Gaara smiled and settled back into place beside the fire. “Will you tell me things tonight?”

“Hmm?” Sakura arched a single brow in question.

“I’m sure I bored you plenty with all my useless chatter. Tell me about yourself this time,” he said. 

Sakura’s smile was coy and teasing. “Oh, you wish to know my secrets, do you?”

“I wish to know more about my friend.”

 Sakura froze, utterly still as her eyes stayed wide, fixed on him. Then her lips moved but there was no sound, no voice to match their shape. Gaara knew what she meant to say.

“Yes, my friend, if you’ll allow it. I could also worship you, but i’m not sure how appropriate that might be if you think me a heathen. But, I think we could be friends if you will allow it.” 

After another moment Sakura stiffly nodded, seeming more human in her hesitance.  “A friend… I don’t think I’ve had one of those in a long while,” Sakura breathed.  “I’ll allow it.” 

Now it was Gaara’s turn to smile and Sakura’s turn to be thrown by the sight of it. “Now, will you tell me more about yourself? Do you have brothers or sisters?” 

“I have neither, or if I did, I do not remember them.” Sakura glanced towards the fire before waving her hand before it. The flames rand higher and thicker, casting long shadows. “It’s been a long time since I could remember my human days.”

“You were human?”

“Once.” 

Sakura waved her hand again and Gaara saw images in the fire begin the manifest. A small girl chased after a golden ball that fell into a hole. She cried and promised anything if only she could have her ball back, as young ones are bound to do. 

The flames shifted until a serpent came along, asking for a favor in return for the retrieval of her golden ball. ‘Anything, anything,’ the child promised. The serpent returned with her ball and promised her it would return for his favor when she came of age. 

The girl returned to her grandmother and learned the arts of her lineage until it was time for her to wed. That is when the serpent returned with his son, a prince who she would wed.

The story was pretty enough to be a fairytale children listened to before bed, but the serpent prince was not the hero he dressed himself to be. Instead of taking the girl as his wife, he took her to his city in the desert and dressed her in jewels before enchanting her along with the rest of the city. 

Before the enchantment could freeze her in place she begged her husband for the reason behind his crimes. He revealed himself to be a wicked creature, a demon long since freed from his ancient seal. The city was his trap, stocked with gold and treasures of the earth and flesh for whoever could find it. 

Many men tried, but the city was made by demon hands and trapped with trickery and evil. No one made it very far into the city before their sins consumed them. Men went mad on the walls, listening to the songs of siren voices. Adventures went insane at the sight of such treasures. The few who made it to the girl’s final resting place saw her on a throne and dripping with jewels. Those who reached for her with lust in their heart were struck dead by her bronz servants. 

And all the blood that ever flowed only fed the demon underneath the city further. 

“Then how are you here?” Gaara asked, looking away from the fire. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sakura joked, her shoulders sloped down and heavy. “If you mean the girl in the City of Bronze, well, I can’t speak on that. We’ve all been enchanted not to. See, what happened was-” 

Her voice was cut off, stolen away from her as she gasped aloud and shook her head, side to side. She waved to the fire and it turned blue with magic and then a new picture arose. Gaara saw the city of bronze collapse, crumble into the desert and be no more. 

Sakura breathed heavy and turned her face away. “There are too many sad stories, and I can tell you none of them. Only know that I am here now as real as I can be because of so much blood.” 

Her voice was tired and sad, making Gaara itch to pull her close and comfort her somehow. Whenever his sister was upset he would send her a plate of her favorite candies, or her favorite coffee. She was weak to good food. When his brother was upset he would send him something fine, a new javelin, a trusty steed, a fancy saddle. Kankuro was always cheered up by gifts. 

How could he lift Sakura’s spirits? 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he pleaded. 

“Tell me a funny story,” Sakura said, glancing towards the fire as the blue flames bled red again, her magic sapped. 

“Have you heard the story of the old woman and the devil?”

“Is this a funny story?” 

“The devil doesn’t win,” he answered.

“Then tell it to me,” Sakura laughed. 

So he did. 

The next day Gaara raced across the desert and at night he summoned Sakura again, and the dined on desert flower win and told more stories. 

The third night Gaara called for her again and Sakura was there, highlighted by the star’s light. 

“Is that the reason you can only come to me at night?” he asked. 

Sakura nodded along. “I borrow the star’s magic to leave and manifest this form. I haven’t been human since oh, since too many years ago, but even before then I knew the secret histories and their languages. I knew how to steal and to siphon and how to borrow the magic left in this world.” 

Something in her words made Gaara pause. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s so little magic left in the world. It’s getting harder and harder to appear each decade. The stars are never changing in their nature, but what of it if there are no hearts to behold their beauty and marvel at their wonder.”

“How does magic work?” 

“How does science work?” Sakura countered instead.

Gaara bristled. “Science makes sense. There is a reason for every reaction. There are formulas and reason.”

“Of course there are. Why is magic any different? I can reach out and touch the very atoms of a creature or object and direct them to the desired change with language. You may use oxygen and fuel and heat to create combustion, but I just excite the log into burning.” 

“If magic is so easy, why is not more prevalent among the people?”

“Did I say it was easy? How many centuries did I have to perfect these wretched words, tell me my friend!” Sakura laughed, clapping. Her hands rang out a sound that echoed in the sky above her, turning the clouds over into thunderheads in the desert. “Oh, but I’d trade it all to be a girl again.”       

“Why can’t you?” Gaara asked. 

“I don’t know the words for such a thing, but maybe one day I will discover them,” she said. “Breaking free from another creature’s enchantment requires knowing the nature of their spell or their true name. Once you know that, you can undo all their magic even if they’re dead or gone from this world.”   

“I’ll free you.” 

Sakura went still. Gaara moved closer and touched her arm, startling her. “No,” she breathed. “There is nothing left to free. That city is nothing but rubble. The bodies all gone. Please, don’t. Be content with this.”

“Do you know how many friends I have in this world?” Gaara argued. “I have you and I have my family. I have traveled and nearly died for my sister and brother. You think I wouldn’t do as much for you?” 

Sakura’s face fall with a soft sadness that made her look so old even if her face was as smooth and youthful as her first day at eighteen. “Sweet friend, please forget me and sleep instead.”

“Sakura I-”

But he was already falling, sliding sideways off the log. Up overhead the stars spun in circles before winking out, one by one by one…..

When he awoke in the morning Gaara roused his mare and led her the rest of the way, discovering the humble king resting under a palm tree. He was kind to the old man and listened to the story of a young boy and then his sister who came through seeking the same thing.

“You must travel there, to the base of that black mountain. There you will hear a great many voices that taunt and cajole you to turn around but you must not, for once your head is turned you will be just another black stone at the foot of the mountain.”   

“Even with inhuman willpower I still might turn around if I’m startled,” Gaara said. “I should probably just stuff my ears full of cotton or pig fat to keep from hearing anything-whoa, man!”

“What brilliance!” the old king exclaimed. “How ingenious-never have I heard such a plan in all my days. You may yet be the one who saves the talking bird for his own. A man of science for the ages, woe to the mystics.”

There was the ghost of a memory in his brain about a conversation he had with...someone about magic and science...but that memory was from so long ago, it wasn’t worth remembering.  

Gaara grimaced at the old man’s volume but didn’t say anything else. Instead he bowed in thanks and did just that. He approached the mountain and heard the first voices, though there were no bodies and, like the king said, the voices could do nothing to him. He stuffed his ears full of cotton until he could hear nothing and then began his trek. 

At the top of the mountain there was a golden cage. He grasped it firmly and pulled until it was free. The bird inside the cage roused from sleep and spoke with the voice of a human, clear and polished. 

“You have pulled me from the mountain. In thanks I will tell you where you may find the golden water and where you will find the singing tree.” 

“That’s all well and good, but I just want to find my sister and brother. Where are their bodies?”

“They have been turned to stone and one stone is as any other, I can not tell. But, I will tell you how to revive them. The water under my cage, take it and sprinkle it on the black stones before you. It was free them from their curse.”

“Like a chemical reaction,” Gaara murmured. 

He moved to do as the bird bid him and the first few stones were transformed back to their human bodies, breathing and alive. They thanked Gaara and praised him even as he ignored them in favor of finding his sister and brother.   

The sun moved across the sky and in time he came to the last two stones who were his dear sister and brother, alive and breathing! He gathered them up in his arms and cried again, too happy to have his dead siblings back from the grave to care about treasures or riches. 

That day the three of them left with the talking bird, the branch of the singing tree, golden water from the fountain, and a small army loyal to the one who freed them. 

In short time Gaara’s fame at the head of the Wind tribe grew. The conquests of his private army turned on tribe into two, and two into four, and four into fifteen, until an entire country looked to him for leadership and wisdom.  

The talking bird was a creature of legend, star crafted from the days of old and knowledgeable of a great many things. With his council Gaara guided his people and grew his tribe into a successful country that eventually swallowed even the sultan’s lands.

And yet the more of his days he spent, the lonlier he became. 

What was he missing?

What couldn’t he remember?

There was something… something he needed to remember. What was it?

“Bird, tell me the thing I seek.” 

“You seek a memory, my sultan,” the enchanted bird sang, flying about in his cage. 

“What is the memory I seek?” 

“One that is forgotten!”

The way the bird laughed provoked Gaara to anger, so he shook the cage to rattle its contents. “Speak, creature, as you are compelled to do, and release me from this pain in my chest.” 

“I am compelled to speak only truth and to answer my master, but the memory will only bring you more grief. Do you wish it, still?” 

The pain in Gaara’s heard was fierce and the only thing he could think of from one day to the next. His sister and brother ruled more than he did by this point, and the only thing his advisors needed him for was an heir. But the thought of marriage made him…

“I need this memory, speak it, bird!” he all but growled. 

“Very well then. Her name is Sakura. I shall tell you how to find her.”    

[blackkudos]

Charles Mingus

Charles Mingus Jr. (April 22, 1922 – January 5, 1979) was an American jazz double bassist, pianist, composer and bandleader. A major proponent of collective improvisation, he is considered to be one of the greatest jazz musicians and composers in history, with a career spanning three decades and collaborations with other jazz legends such as Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Dannie Richmond, and Herbie Hancock.

Mingus' compositions continue to be played by contemporary musicians ranging from the repertory bands Mingus Big Band, Mingus Dynasty, and Mingus Orchestra, to the high school students who play the charts and compete in the Charles Mingus High School Competition. In 1993, the Library of Congress acquired Mingus's collected papers—including scores, sound recordings, correspondence and photos—in what they described as "the most important acquisition of a manuscript collection relating to jazz in the Library's history".

Biography

Early life and career

Charles Mingus was born in Nogales, Arizona. His father, Charles Mingus Sr., was a sergeant in the U.S. Army. Mingus was largely raised in the Watts area of Los Angeles. His maternal grandfather was a Chinese British subject from Hong Kong, and his maternal grandmother was an African-American from the southern United States. Mingus was the third great-grandson of the family's founding patriarch who was, by most accounts, a German immigrant. His ancestors included German American, African American, and Native American.

In Mingus's autobiography Beneath the Underdog his mother was described as "the daughter of an English/Chinese man and a South-American woman", and his father was the son "of a black farm worker and a Swedish woman". Charles Mingus Sr. claims to have been raised by his mother and her husband as a white person until he was fourteen, when his mother revealed to her family that the child's true father was a black slave, after which he had to run away from his family and live on his own. The autobiography doesn't confirm whether Charles Mingus Sr. or Mingus himself believed this story was true, or whether it was merely an embellished version of the Mingus family's lineage.

His mother allowed only church-related music in their home, but Mingus developed an early love for other music, especially Duke Ellington. He studied trombone, and later cello, although he was unable to follow the cello professionally because, at the time, it was nearly impossible for a black musician to make a career of classical music, and the cello was not yet accepted as a jazz instrument. Despite this, Mingus was still attached to the cello; as he studied bass with Red Callender in the late 1930s, Callender even commented that the cello was still Mingus's main instrument. In Beneath the Underdog, Mingus states that he did not actually start learning bass until Buddy Collette accepted him into his swing band under the stipulation that he be the band's bass player.

Due to a poor education, the young Mingus could not read musical notation quickly enough to join the local youth orchestra. This had a serious impact on his early musical experiences, leaving him feeling ostracized from the classical music world. These early experiences, in addition to his lifelong confrontations with racism, were reflected in his music, which often focused on themes of racism, discrimination and (in)justice.

Much of the cello technique he learned was applicable to double bass when he took up the instrument in high school. He studied for five years with Herman Reinshagen, principal bassist of the New York Philharmonic, and compositional techniques with Lloyd Reese. Throughout much of his career, he played a bass made in 1927 by the German maker Ernst Heinrich Roth.

Beginning in his teen years, Mingus was writing quite advanced pieces; many are similar to Third Stream because they incorporate elements of classical music. A number of them were recorded in 1960 with conductor Gunther Schuller, and released as Pre-Bird, referring to Charlie "Bird" Parker; Mingus was one of many musicians whose perspectives on music were altered by Parker into "pre- and post-Bird" eras.

Mingus gained a reputation as a bass prodigy. His first major professional job was playing with former Ellington clarinetist Barney Bigard. He toured with Louis Armstrong in 1943, and by early 1945 was recording in Los Angeles in a band led by Russell Jacquet, which also included Teddy Edwards, Maurice Simon, Bill Davis, and Chico Hamilton, and in May that year, in Hollywood, again with Teddy Edwards, in a band led by Howard McGhee.

He then played with Lionel Hampton's band in the late 1940s; Hampton performed and recorded several of Mingus's pieces. A popular trio of Mingus, Red Norvo and Tal Farlow in 1950 and 1951 received considerable acclaim, but Mingus's race caused problems with club owners and he left the group. Mingus was briefly a member of Ellington's band in 1953, as a substitute for bassist Wendell Marshall. Mingus's notorious temper led to his being one of the few musicians personally fired by Ellington (Bubber Miley and drummer Bobby Durham are among the others), after a back-stage fight between Mingus and Juan Tizol.

Also in the early 1950s, before attaining commercial recognition as a bandleader, Mingus played gigs with Charlie Parker, whose compositions and improvisations greatly inspired and influenced him. Mingus considered Parker the greatest genius and innovator in jazz history, but he had a love-hate relationship with Parker's legacy. Mingus blamed the Parker mythology for a derivative crop of pretenders to Parker's throne. He was also conflicted and sometimes disgusted by Parker's self-destructive habits and the romanticized lure of drug addiction they offered to other jazz musicians. In response to the many sax players who imitated Parker, Mingus titled a song, "If Charlie Parker were a Gunslinger, There'd be a Whole Lot of Dead Copycats" (released on Mingus Dynasty as "Gunslinging Bird").

Mingus was married four times. His wives were Jeanne Gross, Lucille (Celia) Germanis, Judy Starkey, and Susan Graham Ungaro.

Based in New York

In 1961, Mingus spent time staying at the house of his mother's sister (Louise) and her husband, Fess Williams in Jamaica, Queens. Subsequently, Mingus invited Williams to play at the 1962 Town Hall Concert.

In 1952 Mingus co-founded Debut Records with Max Roach so he could conduct his recording career as he saw fit. The name originated from his desire to document unrecorded young musicians. Despite this, the best-known recording the company issued was of the most prominent figures in bebop. On May 15, 1953, Mingus joined Dizzy Gillespie, Parker, Bud Powell, and Roach for a concert at Massey Hall in Toronto, which is the last recorded documentation of Gillespie and Parker playing together. After the event, Mingus chose to overdub his barely audible bass part back in New York; the original version was issued later. The two 10" albums of the Massey Hall concert (one featured the trio of Powell, Mingus and Roach) were among Debut Records' earliest releases. Mingus may have objected to the way the major record companies treated musicians, but Gillespie once commented that he did not receive any royalties "for years and years" for his Massey Hall appearance. The records, however, are often regarded as among the finest live jazz recordings.

One story has it that Mingus was involved in a notorious incident while playing a 1955 club date billed as a "reunion" with Parker, Powell, and Roach. Powell, who suffered from alcoholism and mental illness (possibly exacerbated by a severe police beating and electroshock treatments), had to be helped from the stage, unable to play or speak coherently. As Powell's incapacitation became apparent, Parker stood in one spot at a microphone, chanting "Bud Powell...Bud Powell..." as if beseeching Powell's return. Allegedly, Parker continued this incantation for several minutes after Powell's departure, to his own amusement and Mingus's exasperation. Mingus took another microphone and announced to the crowd, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please don't associate me with any of this. This is not jazz. These are sick people." This was Parker's last public performance; about a week later he died after years of substance abuse.

Mingus often worked with a mid-sized ensemble (around 8–10 members) of rotating musicians known as the Jazz Workshop. Mingus broke new ground, constantly demanding that his musicians be able to explore and develop their perceptions on the spot. Those who joined the Workshop (or Sweatshops as they were colorfully dubbed by the musicians) included Pepper Adams, Jaki Byard, Booker Ervin, John Handy, Jimmy Knepper, Charles McPherson and Horace Parlan. Mingus shaped these musicians into a cohesive improvisational machine that in many ways anticipated free jazz. Some musicians dubbed the workshop a "university" for jazz.

Pithecanthropus Erectus

and other recordings

The decade that followed is generally regarded as Mingus's most productive and fertile period. Over a ten-year period, he made 30 records for a number of labels (Atlantic, Candid, Columbia, Impulse and others), a pace perhaps unmatched by any other musicians except Ellington.

Mingus had already recorded around ten albums as a bandleader, but 1956 was a breakthrough year for him, with the release of Pithecanthropus Erectus, arguably his first major work as both a bandleader and composer. Like Ellington, Mingus wrote songs with specific musicians in mind, and his band for Erectus included adventurous musicians: piano player Mal Waldron, alto saxophonist Jackie McLean and the Sonny Rollins-influenced tenor of J. R. Monterose. The title song is a ten-minute tone poem, depicting the rise of man from his hominid roots (Pithecanthropus erectus) to an eventual downfall. A section of the piece was free improvisation, free of structure or theme.

Another album from this period, The Clown (1957 also on Atlantic Records), the title track of which features narration by humorist Jean Shepherd, was the first to feature drummer Dannie Richmond, who remained his preferred drummer until Mingus's death in 1979. The two men formed one of the most impressive and versatile rhythm sections in jazz. Both were accomplished performers seeking to stretch the boundaries of their music while staying true to its roots. When joined by pianist Jaki Byard, they were dubbed "The Almighty Three".

Mingus Ah Um

and other works

In 1959 Mingus and his jazz workshop musicians recorded one of his best-known albums, Mingus Ah Um. Even in a year of standout masterpieces, including Dave Brubeck's Time Out, Miles Davis's Kind of Blue, John Coltrane's Giant Steps, and Ornette Coleman's prophetic The Shape of Jazz to Come, this was a major achievement, featuring such classic Mingus compositions as "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat" (an elegy to Lester Young) and the vocal-less version of "Fables of Faubus" (a protest against segregationist Arkansas governor Orval Faubus that features double-time sections). Also during 1959, Mingus recorded the album Blues & Roots, which was released the following year. As Mingus explained in his liner notes: "I was born swinging and clapped my hands in church as a little boy, but I've grown up and I like to do things other than just swing. But blues can do more than just swing."

Mingus witnessed Ornette Coleman's legendary—and controversial—1960 appearances at New York City's Five Spot jazz club. He initially expressed rather mixed feelings for Coleman's innovative music: "...if the free-form guys could play the same tune twice, then I would say they were playing something...Most of the time they use their fingers on the saxophone and they don't even know what's going to come out. They're experimenting." That same year, however, Mingus formed a quartet with Richmond, trumpeter Ted Curson and multi-instrumentalist Eric Dolphy. This ensemble featured the same instruments as Coleman's quartet, and is often regarded as Mingus rising to the challenging new standard established by Coleman. The quartet recorded on both Charles Mingus Presents Charles Mingus and Mingus. The former also features the version of "Fables of Faubus" with lyrics, aptly titled "Original Faubus Fables".

Only one misstep occurred in this era: The Town Hall Concert in October 1962, a "live workshop"/recording session. With an ambitious program, the event was plagued with troubles from its inception. Mingus's vision, now known as Epitaph, was finally realized by conductor Gunther Schuller in a concert in 1989, a decade after Mingus died.

The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady

and other Impulse! albums

In 1963, Mingus released The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady, described as "one of the greatest achievements in orchestration by any composer in jazz history." The album was also unique in that Mingus asked his psychotherapist, Dr. Edmund Pollock, to provide notes for the record.

Mingus also released Mingus Plays Piano, an unaccompanied album featuring some fully improvised pieces, in 1963.

In addition, 1963 saw the release of Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus, an album praised by critic Nat Hentoff.

In 1964 Mingus put together one of his best-known groups, a sextet including Dannie Richmond, Jaki Byard, Eric Dolphy, trumpeter Johnny Coles, and tenor saxophonist Clifford Jordan. The group was recorded frequently during its short existence; Coles fell ill and left during a European tour. Dolphy stayed in Europe after the tour ended, and died suddenly in Berlin on June 28, 1964. 1964 was also the year that Mingus met his future wife, Sue Graham Ungaro. The couple were married in 1966 by Allen Ginsberg. Facing financial hardship, Mingus was evicted from his New York home in 1966.

Changes

Mingus's pace slowed somewhat in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In 1974, after his 1970 sextet with Charles McPherson, Eddie Preston and Bobby Jones disbanded, he formed a quintet with Richmond, pianist Don Pullen, trumpeter Jack Walrath and saxophonist George Adams. They recorded two well-received albums, Changes One and Changes Two. Mingus also played with Charles McPherson in many of his groups during this time. Cumbia and Jazz Fusion in 1976 sought to blend Colombian music (the "Cumbia" of the title) with more traditional jazz forms. In 1971, Mingus taught for a semester at the University at Buffalo, The State University of New York as the Slee Professor of Music.

Later career and death

By the mid-1970s, Mingus was suffering from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS). His once formidable bass technique declined until he could no longer play the instrument. He continued composing, however, and supervised a number of recordings before his death. At the time of his death, he was working with Joni Mitchell on an album eventually titled Mingus, which included lyrics added by Mitchell to his compositions, including "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat". The album featured the talents of Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, and another influential bassist and composer, Jaco Pastorius.

Mingus died, aged 56, in Cuernavaca, Mexico, where he had traveled for treatment and convalescence. His ashes were scattered in the Ganges River.

Musical style

His compositions retained the hot and soulful feel of hard bop, drawing heavily from black gospel music and blues, while sometimes containing elements of Third Stream, free jazz, and classical music. He once cited Duke Ellington and church as his main influences.

Mingus espoused collective improvisation, similar to the old New Orleans jazz parades, paying particular attention to how each band member interacted with the group as a whole. In creating his bands, he looked not only at the skills of the available musicians, but also their personalities. Many musicians passed through his bands and later went on to impressive careers. He recruited talented and sometimes little-known artists, whom he utilized to assemble unconventional instrumental configurations. As a performer, Mingus was a pioneer in double bass technique, widely recognized as one of the instrument's most proficient players.

Because of his brilliant writing for midsize ensembles, and his catering to and emphasizing the strengths of the musicians in his groups, Mingus is often considered the heir of Duke Ellington, for whom he expressed great admiration and collaborated on the record Money Jungle. Indeed, Dizzy Gillespie had once claimed Mingus reminded him "of a young Duke", citing their shared "organizational genius."

Personality and temper

Nearly as well known as his ambitious music was Mingus's often fearsome temperament, which earned him the nickname "The Angry Man of Jazz". His refusal to compromise his musical integrity led to many onstage eruptions, exhortations to musicians, and dismissals. Although respected for his musical talents, Mingus was sometimes feared for his occasionally violent onstage temper, which was at times directed at members of his band and other times aimed at the audience. He was physically large, prone to obesity (especially in his later years), and was by all accounts often intimidating and frightening when expressing anger or displeasure. When confronted with a nightclub audience talking and clinking ice in their glasses while he performed, Mingus stopped his band and loudly chastised the audience, stating: "Isaac Stern doesn't have to put up with this shit." Mingus reportedly destroyed a $20,000 bass in response to audience heckling at the Five Spot in New York City.

Guitarist and singer Jackie Paris was a first-hand witness to Mingus's irascibility. Paris recalls his time in the Jazz Workshop: "He chased everybody off the stand except [drummer] Paul Motian and me... The three of us just wailed on the blues for about an hour and a half before he called the other cats back."

On October 12, 1962, Mingus punched Jimmy Knepper in the mouth while the two men were working together at Mingus' apartment on a score for his upcoming concert at The Town Hall in New York, and Knepper refused to take on more work. Mingus' blow broke off a crowned tooth and its underlying stub. According to Knepper, this ruined his embouchure and resulted in the permanent loss of the top octave of his range on the trombone – a significant handicap for any professional trombonist. This attack temporarily ended their working relationship, and Knepper was unable to perform at the concert. Charged with assault, Mingus appeared in court in January 1963 and was given a suspended sentence. Knepper did again work with Mingus in 1977 and played extensively with the Mingus Dynasty, formed after Mingus' death in 1979.

In addition to bouts of ill temper, Mingus was prone to clinical depression and tended to have brief periods of extreme creative activity intermixed with fairly long stretches of greatly decreased output, such as the five-year period following the death of Eric Dolphy.

In 1966, Mingus was evicted from his apartment at 5 Great Jones Street in New York City for nonpayment of rent, captured in the 1968 documentary film Mingus: Charlie Mingus 1968, directed by Thomas Reichman. The film also features Mingus performing in clubs and in the apartment, firing a .410 shotgun indoors, composing at the piano, playing with and taking care of his young daughter Caroline, and discussing love, art, politics, and the music school he had hoped to create.

Legacy

The Mingus Big Band

Charles Mingus' music is currently being performed and reinterpreted by the Mingus Big Band, which in October 2008 began playing every Monday at Jazz Standard in New York City, and often tours the rest of the U.S. and Europe. The Mingus Big Band, the Mingus Orchestra, and the Mingus Dynasty band are managed by Jazz Workshop, Inc. and run by Mingus' widow Sue Graham Mingus.

Elvis Costello has written lyrics for a few Mingus pieces. He had once sung lyrics for one piece, "Invisible Lady", backed by the Mingus Big Band on the album, Tonight at Noon: Three of Four Shades of Love.

Epitaph

Epitaph is considered one of Charles Mingus' masterpieces. The composition is 4,235 measures long, requires two hours to perform, and is one of the longest jazz pieces ever written. Epitaph was only completely discovered, by musicologist Andrew Homzy, during the cataloging process after Mingus' death. With the help of a grant from the Ford Foundation, the score and instrumental parts were copied, and the piece itself was premiered by a 30-piece orchestra, conducted by Gunther Schuller. This concert was produced by Mingus' widow, Sue Graham Mingus, at Alice Tully Hall on June 3, 1989, 10 years after Mingus' death. It was performed again at several concerts in 2007. The performance at Walt Disney Concert Hall is available on NPR. Hal Leonard published the complete score in 2008.

Autobiography

Mingus wrote the sprawling, exaggerated, quasi-autobiography, Beneath the Underdog: His World as Composed by Mingus, throughout the 1960s, and it was published in 1971. Its "stream of consciousness" style covered several aspects of his life that had previously been off-record. In addition to his musical and intellectual proliferation, Mingus goes into great detail about his perhaps overstated sexual exploits. He claims to have had more than 31 affairs in the course of his life (including 26 prostitutes in one sitting). This does not include any of his five wives (he claims to have been married to two of them simultaneously). In addition, he asserts that he held a brief career as a pimp. This has never been confirmed.

Mingus's autobiography also serves as an insight into his psyche, as well as his attitudes about race and society. It includes accounts of abuse at the hands of his father from an early age, being bullied as a child, his removal from a white musician's union, and grappling with disapproval while married to white women and other examples of the hardship and prejudice.

Scholarly influence

The work of Charles Mingus has also received attention in academia. According to Ashon Crawley, the musicianship of Charles Mingus provides a salient example of the power of music to unsettle the dualistic, categorical distinction of sacred from profane through otherwise epistemologies. Crawley offers a reading of Mingus that examines the deep, imbrication uniting Holiness-Pentecostal aesthetic practices and jazz. Mingus recognized the importance and impact of the midweek gathering of black folks at the Holiness-Pentecostal Church at 79th and Watts in Los Angeles that he'd attend with his stepmother or his friend Britt Woodman. Crawley goes on to argue that these visits were the impetus for the song "Wednesday Prayer Meeting." Emphasis is placed on the ethical demand of the prayer meeting felt and experienced that, according to Crawley, Mingus attempts to capture. In many ways, "Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting" was Mingus's memorial, homage, to black sociality. By exploring Mingus' homage to black Pentecostal aesthetics, Crawley expounds on how Mingus figured out that those Holiness-Pentecostal gatherings were the constant repetition of the ongoing, deep, intense mode of study, a kind of study wherein the aesthetic forms created could not be severed from the intellectual practice because they were one and also, but not, the same." Gunther Schuller has suggested that Mingus should be ranked among the most important American composers, jazz or otherwise. In 1988, a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts made possible the cataloging of Mingus compositions, which were then donated to the Music Division of the New York Public Library for public use. In 1993, The Library of Congress acquired Mingus's collected papers—including scores, sound recordings, correspondence and photos—in what they described as "the most important acquisition of a manuscript collection relating to jazz in the Library's history".

Cover versions

Considering the number of compositions that Charles Mingus wrote, his works have not been recorded as often as comparable jazz composers. The only Mingus tribute albums recorded during his lifetime were baritone saxophonist Pepper Adams's album, Pepper Adams Plays the Compositions of Charlie Mingus, in 1963, and Joni Mitchell's album Mingus, in 1979. Of all his works, his elegant elegy for Lester Young, "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat" (from Mingus Ah Um) has probably had the most recordings. Besides recordings from the expected jazz artists, the song has also been recorded by musicians as disparate as Jeff Beck, Andy Summers, Eugene Chadbourne, and Bert Jansch and John Renbourn with and without Pentangle. Joni Mitchell sang a version with lyrics that she wrote for it.

Elvis Costello has recorded "Hora Decubitus" (from Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus) on My Flame Burns Blue(2006). "Better Git It in Your Soul" was covered by Davey Graham on his album "Folk, Blues, and Beyond." Trumpeter Ron Miles performs a version of "Pithecanthropus Erectus" on his CD "Witness." New York Ska Jazz Ensemble has done a cover of Mingus's "Haitian Fight Song", as have the British folk rock group Pentangle and others. Hal Willner's 1992 tribute album Weird Nightmare: Meditations on Mingus (Columbia Records) contains idiosyncratic renditions of Mingus's works involving numerous popular musicians including Chuck D, Keith Richards, Henry Rollins and Dr. John. The Italian band Quintorigo recorded an entire album devoted to Mingus's music, titled Play Mingus.

Gunther Schuller's edition of Mingus's "Epitaph" which premiered at Lincoln Center in 1989 was subsequently released on Columbia/Sony Records.

One of the most elaborate tributes to Mingus came on September 29, 1969, at a festival honoring him. Duke Ellington performed The Clown, with Duke reading Jean Shepherd's narration. It was long believed that no recording of this performance existed; however, one was discovered and premiered on July 11, 2013, by Dry River Jazz host Trevor Hodgkins for NPR member station KRWG-FM with re-airings on July 13, 2013, and July 26, 2014. Mingus's elegy for Duke, "Duke Ellington's Sound Of Love", was recorded by Kevin Mahogany on Double Rainbow (1993) and Anita Wardell on Why Do You Cry? (1995).

Material loss

On June 25, 2019, The New York Times Magazine listed Charles Mingus among hundreds of artists whose material was reportedly destroyed in the 2008 Universal fire.

Awards and honors

1971: Guggenheim Fellowship (Music Composition).

1971: Inducted in the Down Beat Jazz Hall of Fame.

1988: The National Endowment for the Arts provided grants for a Mingus nonprofit called "Let My Children Hear Music" which cataloged all of Mingus's works. The microfilms of these works were given to the Music Division of the New York Public Library where they are currently available for study.

1993: The Library of Congress acquired Mingus's collected papers—including scores, sound recordings, correspondence and photos—in what they described as "the most important acquisition of a manuscript collection relating to jazz in the Library's history".

1995: The United States Postal Service issued a stamp in his honor.

1997: Posthumously awarded the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.

1999: Album Mingus Dynasty (1959) inducted in the Grammy Hall of Fame.

2005: Inducted in the Jazz at Lincoln Center, Nesuhi Ertegun Jazz Hall of Fame.

[shadowedoracle]

RSS Gift: A Christmas Present for Mama

Happy Holidays! This is my RSS gift for @boushh2187. I’ve really enjoyed being your Santa this year and hope you like your gift! I’m also so, so sorry it’s late and you had to put up with my mixture of ill-health and poor planning. Pro-tip: if writing by hand leave enough time so if you get sick near the end you can still type it up and post on time.

I started a much longer angstier version of this but there were some key things I couldn’t work out about the world. I started writing antidote fluff for the angst scenes and ended up with this family fluff piece instead.

Summary: After giving birth to their second child Belle loses her memories. But it's Christmastime and Gideon doesn't want her to miss out on her present so father and son pay a visit to her in hospital.

Prompt: Belle loses [her] memory after childbirth

Rating: G

[AO3]

Rumplestiltskin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before ringing the doorbell of the white mayoral mansion. He could have just appeared inside but he’d made a promise to Belle to use magic for trivial purposes less often. She would never have to know he’d done it, but it seemed wrong to conceal it from her -- especially now.

He had just come from the hospital and he couldn’t bear the idea of lying, even by omission, to her when she was in this state. She was just so hurt and confused right now but he, her husband, couldn’t do a thing about it. He had the power of all the Dark Ones but it wasn’t the slightest bit of good. No spell or potion that he knew had had any effect. So he’d had to sit by her bedside and willing her to remember, to give him some sign of recognition. It didn’t help, it never did.

It had been a week since she’d gone into labour four weeks early. A week since the last time his wife had looked at him and known who he was, really seen him to know him. Now, she didn’t remember him, she wore his ring on her finger but she couldn’t recall a single thing about him or their lives together. But how could she when she couldn’t even remember herself?

When she’d first woken up the Doctor Whale had reassured him it was likely just a side-effect of the general anaesthetic. He should have known better than to trust Dr. Frankenstein’s judgement about living patients. But as the day had progressed it had become obvious to all that it was more that that. She remembered nothing about herself or her life.

He’d tried True Love’s Kiss and all the spells and potions he could think of. All the new ones that he’d researched after the Incident with the damned pirate and more. But it had all been for naught.

The closest to any sign of memory had been two days ago, when she’d asked to look at the ring on his finger. A flutter of hope had beaten through his chest as he’d shown her the ring on his finger and had let her stroke her finger across the blue moonstone. When she had back looked up at his face as her fingertips had swirled over the stone, his breath had caught in his throat when he’d thought he’d spied a glimmer of her normal self in her eyes. But then the moment was gone as if it never were. Neither the cold stone nor the quick accidental touch of her fingertips to his knuckle had woken her. He’d masked his emotions as quickly as he could but he knew it hadn’t been quickly enough.

His Belle had always read him like a book and even if she didn’t know him any more, it seemed she could still read him.

It could be the only possible explanation for why she seemed to trust him so. He could have been anything to her. He could have been lying to her but when he had pointed that out to her, she’d just smiled told him that she could tell he was a ‘good man’. Somehow even with no memories, no sense of self she still saw the best in him.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts as Regina herself answered the door in a sleek navy skirt suit and pristine white shirt.

“Any progress?” She asked softly, as she moved to the side to let him in.

He shook his head.

She gave a sympathetic little smile,“It’ll work out. It’s hardly the first time she’s lost her memories. You’ll work out the trick to recovering them this time and soon enough your wife will have the dubious pleasure of remembering you again.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “Do I have to remind you, dearie, two of the times Belle forgot who she was, you were more than a little involved.”

She straightened a little and said stiffly, “Yes, well. I’m not that person any more. And if I may remind you, you’re not the man you were then either.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed, suddenly feeling bone tired, “No I’m not. I know you’re not involved this time anyway, dearie. If I thought there was even a chance you might know anything about this well, this conversation would be taking place in a very different setting,” he said and let his lip curl into a sardonic smile and added in a lower voice, “with much more pain.” He shook his head and shifted back to his lighter conversational tone, “And I most certainly would not be entrusting you with the care of my son. Speaking of, how has he been?”

Regina looked as if she had wanted to say something else before his abrupt change of topic but evidently changed her mind and just gestured a hand vaguely towards the living room.

“He’s been good as Gold--” she winced, having evidentially not seen that obvious pun coming, “He’s playing with Henry now.”

Shrieks of joy were emitting from the living room and Rumplestiltskin felt some of the tension leaving him as he walked towards the sound of his son’s happy laugh.

But as he stood in the doorway and watched Henry leap around the room twirling a Duplo model around in his hand and knock an arm off the Duplo model Gideon was wielding as a weapon, he also felt the familiar weight of sorrow creep over his heart. His little boy who just missed his mother dreadfully but didn’t know she might not be the mother he knew when he saw her.

Belle hated it too. She was much less distressed overall this time compared to the Incident with the pirate. The only time he’d seen her get truly upset was when she realized she had no memories of her child.

“What kind of a mother forgets her child?” She’d sobbed.

And while she wasn’t truly comfortable with him, she’d allowed him to comfort her just that once. Had allowed him tuck her into his arms where she belonged and stroke her hair, in just the pattern he knew soothed her.

He hoped what he was about to do was a good idea, both Gideon and Belle would be so crushed if this went wrong.

He stood there, just watching his son and grandson, loathe to interrupt their fun for what seemed like a long time. But it couldn’t have been very long before Gideon with more luck than anything else managed to knock Henry’s Duplo model out of his hands.

Henry fell to his knees and raised beseeching hands towards Gideon, “Oh, have mercy oh great and powerful Gideonasaurobot!”

“No! No mercy. Gideonasaurobot must punish you with tickles!” Gideon shrieked dropping his own model and launching himself at Henry.

“No! No! Anything but that.” Henry cried as Gideon’s wriggling fingers connected with his stomach, trying and failing to bat them away.

Rumplestiltskin coughed, hating to bring his son’s fun to an end but figuring he ought to save Henry from the indignity of losing a tickle fight to a three-year-old.

Henry glanced over his shoulder and smiled at his grandfather. He prodded Gideon’s arm and pointed towards the door. Gideon turned, his face lightening up as he ran and flung himself at his father’s legs.

“Papa!” Rumplestiltskin staggered back, grabbing the door frame to help him keep his balance.

He smiled as he bent down and picked up Gideon.

“So were you good for Regina and Henry?” Gideon nodded vigorously. “I was very, very good. The goodest! I even got to eat Christmas cookies I was so good.”

“Did you now?” Rumplestiltskin smiled down at his son, while privately hoping that Regina hadn’t left Gideon consume too much sugar.

“Yeah! They were tasty and I learned magic,” Gideon finished proudly.

Rumplestiltskin half-turned and shot a filthy glare at Regina; she couldn’t possibly think he would approve of her teaching his three-year-old son magic.

She crossed her arms, “It wasn’t me it was Henry."

Rumplestiltskin turned back and stared at Henry in befuddlement. Henry just grinned and started chucking Duplo back into a large red plastic box.

“I show you,” Gideon said wriggling until his father gently lowered him back down. Gideon patted his leg, “Wait here,” he said before racing off to the back of the room.

Rumplestiltskin watched him gather up his stuffed bunny and a large velvet top hat and come running back towards him.

Rumplestiltskin looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Regina.

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not what you think -- it’s just a hat.”

Rumplestiltskin felt a whoosh of relief go through him. He’d been fairly certain Henry wouldn’t teach Gideon actual magic but it didn’t stop him worrying.

“Papa!” Rumplestiltskin returned his gaze to his son. “And what great feat of magic are you going to show me?”

Gideon waved the stuffed rabbit around and its long off-white ears flapped against the blue and white checkered shirt. “Now you see Mr. Floppy Ears.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, “I see him.”

“Yes. Now watch me put Mr. Floppy Ears in the hat,” Gideon said hugging the hat to his stomach and dropping the rabbit inside.

“Okay, I see him. He’s in the hat. But where’s the magic in that?”

“Shh, you’ll see,” his son replied impatiently as he placed the hat on his head.

It probably would have come down over his eyes if the rabbit hadn’t been in there Rumplestiltskin thought smiling.

Gideon waved black wand with white tips clutched in his chubby fist, “Abra Cadaver!”

Rumplestiltskin snorted quietly, wishing Belle were here and they could share this experience together.

Gideon raised the hat off his head and Rumplestiltskin pretended not to see him stuff Mr. Floppy Ears into the front of his shirt. He held out the hat proudly.

“Oh no! What have you done with poor Mr. Floppy Ears?” Rumplestiltskin exclaimed smiling down at his son.

Gideon giggled, “I magicked him out of the hat!”

“But to where? Where could you have magicked him to?”

Rumplestiltskin put his hand in the hat and pretended to try to find the bunny, “Here’s not in here.”

He looked Gideon up and down, then leaned around and pulled slightly on his left ear and pretended to check behind it. “He’s not here either.”

Gideon was bouncing up and down little body quivering with mirth as Rumplestiltskin checked the behind the right ear, “Nope not here either. Where can you have sent Mr. Floppy Ears?”

Gideon grinned proudly up at his father and pulled the bunny out from under his shirt.

“Here!” Rumplestiltskin smiled and clapped, “Well done! However did you manage that? I thought for sure you’d sent him to the land of bunnies.”

Gideon laughed, “No, that would be silly. He likes it here with me.”

Rumplestiltskin picked him up again and kissed his sticky cheek, “Does he now? That’s good, I think he’s the only thing keeping you out of trouble sometimes. Are you ready to go?”

Gideon nodded against his chest. “Then say 'goodbye' and 'thank you' to Henry."

Gideon twisted in his arms and waved his chubby hand. “Bye bye thank you Henry.”

Henry smiled and waved back, “Bye Gideon. I’ll teach you more magic next time you’re over.”

“Yeah!” Gideon slapped hand to his father’s chest.

“Ow! Gideon, no slapping remember?”

“Sorry, Papa,” Gideon trilled.

He kissed the top of Gideon’s head. “It’s okay, just try to remember next time. Papas are very delicate you know.”

He whirled a hand to collect Gideon’s things together. There was not using magic for trivial purposes and there was stupidity in trying to hunt around for all randomly dispersed mess of a toddler. Rumplestiltskin started walking towards the door of the house.

“Wait.” Regina’s voice made him pause and he turned back to her with a raised eyebrow. “What is it dearie?”

“I have something else for you take with you. Wait here.”

She returned a minute later with a red metal tin.

“Here. These are some of the Christmas cookies we made.”

He smiled, “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you. Isn’t it Gideon? Say ‘thank you’ to Regina and ‘bye-bye’”

“Thank you. Bye-bye!” Gideon’s sung out.

“Bye, bye little man. We’ll see you again soon. Okay?” Regina said waving as they passed.

Gideon nodded into Rumplestiltskin's chest, “’Kay!”

Rumplestiltskin put Gideon down and helped him into his winter clothes.

“Thanks for this Regina.”

She shrugged, “It’s been no bother. Will you need me to look after him again this week?”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head, “Granny’s said she’ll take him for some the time and the Charmings have said they’ll have him over to play with Neal as well. So hopefully that’ll tide us through until Belle can come home and then,” he shrugged, “we’ll have to play that by ear I think.”

Regina nodded, “Let me know though. If you need any more help.”

“I will, thanks. I’ll try and find some way to make it up to you too.” Rumplestiltskin gave her an evil grin, “How about I see if Mal’s available for dinner sometime.”

Regina blushed slightly, “I can talk to her myself you know.”

“True, but you never do.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Is this the sort of meddling the mighty Dark One gets up to these days? Arranging dinner dates?”

“Ah, but I never said it was a date.”

Regina rolled her eyes and made and shooing motion with her hands. “Just take your child and go you meddlesome man.”

He grinned at her and picked Gideon up, adjusting his hat and scarf when he was safely in the crook of his arm again.

“Until next time Regina.”

“Goodbye and goodbye to you too Gideon.”

She waved once more before shutting the door firmly behind them.

Rumplestiltskin walked them to the car and carefully put Gideon into his booster seat.

“Are you ready to visit Mama and your baby sister and give them your present?”

“Yeah!” Gideon grinned excitedly up at him.

Rumplestiltskin smiled back and tried not to think that this trip very likely to turn out to be a bad idea.

***

Rumplestiltskin, got out of the driver’s seat and slid into the back seat next to the booster seat. He undid Gideon’s seat belt carefully and pulled his son into his lap.

“Now remember what we talked about before, all right? We’ll go see Mama and you can give her your present but she’s still sick.”

Gideon nodded into his father’s shoulder. “Okay,” He said in a small voice.

Rumplestiltskin took his hand gently and wondered if he was doing the right thing taking Gideon to see Belle. He was bound to be upset when she didn’t recognize him and then she’d be upset too. But he missed her so much and so wanted to give her her present. And the desperate foolish part of his mind hoped that maybe, just maybe, seeing her son would spark some memories.

“Just remember, Mama’s sick and has forgotten some stuff. She knows who you are of course,” he winced internally, it was not exactly lying to his son. He’d shown her pictures of her son and she was able to make new memories since the birth, so it wasn’t exactly a lie. But somehow finding that loophole made him feel far worse finding loopholes usually did. He decided to plough on and deal with his guilty conscience later, “She misses you and she wants to see you. But she won’t remember all the little stuff she normally does, so try not to ask her too many questions.”

“Oh,” Gideon replied in a small voice. He twisted a hand into father’s shirt collar.

“Papa?”

“Yes?” Rumplestiltskin laid a comforting had over Gideon’s.

Gideon chewed his lip,“Did I make Mama sick?”

Rumplestiltskin blinked. “No of course not,” he replied quickly. “Why would you think that?”

Gideon fixed his gaze on Rumplestiltskin’s chest and chewed his lip some more.

“Gideon?” Rumplestiltskin stroked Gideon’s hand, “Just tell me son. You can tell me anything remember?”

Gideon nodded and mumbled something into his chest.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “I’m really sorry Gideon. I couldn’t hear you.”

Gideon took a big gulp of breath and said quickly, in a small voice, “I got mad at her.”

Rumplestiltskin felt his heart clench at the guilt in Gideon’s voice. He hugged his son close to him and ran a gentle hand over his head.

“That’s okay Gideon.” He said soothingly, “You are allowed to get mad at her sometimes. We all get mad at each other sometimes. It’s harmless and you most definitely did not make her sick.” He paused, “Do you remember why were you mad at her?”

Gideon nodded, “I told her I wanted the baby to go away. Out of her tummy. I told her I want it to go away so I can sit on her lap again.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled down at Gideon and shook his head, “Well I’m afraid you can’t go back to being an only child, but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leaned in conspiratorially and lowed his voice almost to a whisper.

“What?” Gideon breathed back.

“Mama wanted the baby out of there too. She was getting very tired of it kicking her all the time.”

Gideon frowned. “Why didn’t she tell it off? She tells me off for kicking things.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “Well you see, when the baby was in her tummy it couldn’t hear and understand things yet. But now she’s outside Mama’s tummy she’ll have to learn not to kick things just like you. So you’ll have to be a very good big brother and show her how it’s done.”

“Will I get to sit on Mama’s lap again if I do?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, “of course. Although not on this visit because Mama’s still sore because she’s sick. But afterwards you can, just like before, but you’ll have to take turns with your sister. Okay?”

Gideon nodded slowly, “I guess.”

Rumplestiltskin leaned over and kissed his forehead and stroked his hair again, enjoying the whiff of baby shampoo that reached his nostrils, “That’s a good lad.”

They sat in the back of the car for another few minutes before Rumplestiltskin decided they were as ready as they were going to be.

He got the little present bag with the present from Gideon, out of the trunk and let Gideon hold it as they walked through the hospital, periodically checking they hadn't managed to lose it on the way.

The hospital was all bright lights, loud voices and lots of bustling movement making Gideon inch closer and closer to his father’s legs until Rumplestiltskin just decided that would be easier to carry him the rest of the way and hefted Gideon into the crook of his arm.

“Almost there. Almost there, Gideon.”

Belle’s door was ajar when they reached her ward. He placed Gideon on the ground and crouched in front of him.

“Wait here for one moment while I check if Mama’s ready to see us. You know what she’s like -- she could still be fixing her hair.”

Gideon giggled and nodded.

He patted his son’s head and stood up, pushing the door open a little more and slipped his head around it. He felt a rush of relief, when he saw Belle sitting upright in bed reading. At least she wasn’t sleeping, she’d managed to stay awake most of the last couple of days but he’d still put off bringing Gideon to visit. Hoping her memory would be better mostly. But he knew it would distress Gideon less if she was at least alert and could pretend to be a bit more her usual self.

He tapped a lightly on the door frame and he was chagrined to see he her start at the loud noise. She swivelled her head up and towards the door.

He smiled, a little self-consciously, at the woman who both was and wasn’t his wife, “Sorry didn’t mean to startle you.”

She shook her head, “It’s fine. I don’t mind. I was just reading this book you bought me.” She gave an ironic little smile, “Guess the nice side to losing one’s memories is discovering stories like these for the first time again.” She held up her old battered blue-leather bound copy of the Her Handsome Hero.

He’d hoped an object from her childhood, of her mother’s, might have helped remind her who she was. There was no sign of any change but he couldn’t help but hope that it might spark a small change that would led somewhere.

He smiled back at her, “Well I’m glad you found a bright side to it. Are you available for company? I have a very eager young man here to see you.”

Her smile faded a little and she began to look a little apprehensive. But before he could offer to bring Gideon back another day, she nodded, “Sure. You said you’d be bringing him by. Now’s as good a time as any. Not as if I’m doing much just sitting here reading all day.”

He gave her one more appraising glance but she’d steeled herself to do this and with or without her memories Belle was both stubborn when she’d set her mind to something.

He turned back to Gideon, who’d sat himself on the floor, in the short time he’d been waiting. Rumplestiltskin supposed at least it was a hospital so the floor was probably cleaner than a lot of surfaces he’d played on.

“Come on Gideon. Mama’s ready to see you now.”

“She is?!” Gideon’s face lit up and scrambled to his feet.

Rumplestiltskin nodded and held the door open wider and beckoned towards his son. “Come on.”

His son ran eagerly past him, “Mama!”

Belle waved at him with a bright smile on her face and only her eyes betraying the nerves.

Gideon made to leap onto the bed and Rumplestiltskin only just managed to grab the back of his coat in time. “Uh, uh, uh. Remember what we talked about. You have to be gentle with Mama because she’s sick.”

Gideon slumped a little, “Oh yeah.”

Belle patted the bed beside her, “You can sit next to me if you like though.”

Gideon approached the bed slowly and scrambled up to her side, dragging the little present bag along the bed behind him and Rumplestiltskin just able to rescue it from being squished when Gideon down.

Belle slid her arm around her son, “how have you been Gideon?”

Gideon snuggled into her side. “Good. Missing you.”

There was only a slight pause from Belle, “I missed you too. But they say I should be able to come home soon. That’ll be good, won’t it?” She added a little false cheer into her voice.

“Yeah. You can see all the presents Santa got me!”

“Oh. Did Santa get you a lot of presents?”

Gideon nodded. “I got some trains, a tractor, some farm animals. And… and a puzzle and Play Doh. Oh! And a tricycle.”

“Did you now? My that’s a lot of presents!” You must have been very good,” she paused, confused.

Rumplestiltskin had begun to recognize this as her tick whenever she realized knew something in theory but did not know how she knew it or have any memories associated with how she acquired that knowledge.

He didn’t want Gideon getting upset, so he settled for distracting him. “Gideon has something for you, don’t you Gideon.”

Gideon nodded eagerly, grabbing the present bag and shoving it into Belle’s arms.

“Here!”

She peaked into the bag and pulled out the gift Rumplestiltskin had wrapped for Gideon

“I wonder what it could be,” she said shaking the rectangular parcel wrapped in white paper with little Christmas trees on it.

Gideon giggled at her display, “Open it! Open it!”

She smiled and tore the wrapping paper off to reveal a plastic picture frame covered in glitter glue. She gasped, “Did you make this yourself? For me?”

Gideon puffed his chest out a little. “Yeah. I made it all sparkly and shiny!”

“It’s so pretty! I’ll have to think of the best picture to put in here to do it justice!”

“Actually...” Rumplestiltskin began and both mother and son turned their heads towards the chair to the right of the bed where he’d settled himself.

“Yes?” Belle asked gently when he didn’t continue.

He shifted slightly, aware that the idea he’d come up with last night after arranging this visit might turn out to be a bad one.

“Well… I brought one with me so you could have it here while you’re waiting to come home.” He met her eyes and was glad to see they were still smiling at him, “Just until you’re home, of course.” He added, “You can pick out your own one then.”

She smiled brightly at him, “That’s a wonderful idea! Don’t you think that’s a wonderful idea Gideon?”

Gideon beamed and bounced a little on his bottom, “Yeah!”

Rumplestiltskin reached into his jacket and pulled out the photo he’d selected. It had taken a long time to decide but he was happy with his choice.

“It’s one of the ones from Gideon’s last birthday party,” he said handing over the photo.

It was a simple picture Henry had taken of the three of them in their back garden, Belle was leaning against his shoulder laughing as they both watched Gideon make the large plastic dinosaurs he’d gotten for his birthday walk on their heads.

Belle gave him a grateful little smile, “It’s perfect! I can sit it right here beside my bed so I can have something nicer to look at while I have to stay here.”

She gave Gideon a light squeeze and kissed his cheek, “Thank you both. What a wonderful present!”

Gideon beamed. “I told Papa you’d like it. And lots of blue glitter best.”

Belle nodded sagely, “And you were right on both counts.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled at the two of them. This was going better than expected he thought. It didn’t look like this had sparked any change in Belle but at least Gideon was getting some time with his Mama and she was managing to keep him from getting upset.

A wail came from the box at the end of the bed and broke him out of his reverie.

Gideon started and jammed his hands over his ears, “What’s that?”

Rumplestiltskin went to the bassinet at the end of the bed, reaching in and cradling the small babe in his arms and rocking her gently, “This is your baby sister.”

Gideon pulled his hands away from his ears, “Is she always loud?”

Belle laughed and reached out her arms towards her husband, “I think she’s hungry."

He returned to her and carefully placed their daughter in her arms. She smiled down at her and cooed, “Shh, shh. Mama’s here. Are you hungry little one?”

She evidently was hungry because she calmed down as soon as she was suckling at Belle’s breast. Gideon watched wide-eyed.

“Why aren’t you feeding her?”

Belle smiled, “I am feeding her. This is how babies eat.”

“Looks more like drinking.”

“Well, she’s too small to eat proper food so this is how babies eat.”

Gideon wrinkled his nose. “Weird!”

Belle laughed, “you were one once yourself you know! You ate this way too.”

Gideon wrinkled his nose, not sure what to make of this idea.

He stared at his sister and reached over a finger as if to poke her.

Rumplestiltskin grabbed his hand just in time, “no poking your sister.”

Gideon pouted, “Oh.” He frowned as if considering something, “does she have a name?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, “Rosalind Colette. But we’re probably going to just call her Rosa most of the time.”

Gideon waved a hand towards his sister’s face. “Hello Rosa. I’m Gideon. I’m your big brother!”

He looked up at his father, “Where’s Mr. Floppy Ears?”

Rumplestiltskin dug the rabbit out of the front pocket of his coat and handed him over.

Gideon grabbed the toy and stuffed him into bed next to Belle.

She gave him a puzzled look, “Why are you doing that?”

“I think he should stay and keep you and Rosa company until you get better and come home,” Gideon said earnestly.

Rumplestiltskin felt his heart swell with love and pride and looked across to see Belle’s eye’s watering with emotion too.

She blinked a few times then smiled down at Gideon.

“You’re a good boy, Gideon. I promise you while I may forget a lot of things until I get well again, I won’t forget that I love you because you’re my best little guy and I will always know I love you. Okay.”

Gideon nodded and cuddled into her side, “Love you too”.

She leaned down and just managed to kiss his hair without disturbing the baby.

Rumplestiltskin smiled at the tableau his family made on the bed. In that moment he felt sure that they would get through this terrible time as a family, that Belle would get better and all would be right again. But even if she didn’t, if nothing could be done for her, he could for the first time see a path where they could still all be happy. He wouldn’t stop fighting for his family and trying to make this right but in that moment he felt certain that, one way or the other, they would all get through this.

[imagine-loki]

If I could Turn Back Time, I’d Still Choose This

TITLE:  If I could Turn Back Time, I’d Still Choose This

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 45

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that when Odin found Loki on Jotunheim, he did not take him to raise as his son, as Frigga was pregnant at the time, instead he was given to a normal Aesir family. Years later, Loki meets Odin’s daughter Sigyn, and trouble ensues.

Fandral had her horse waiting for her, Tempest seemed to know there was a sense of urgency as she ran down to the stables. As soon as she came into view, she gave a whistle and the horse pulled free and cantered over to her. Using a wall to allow her jump onto his back, she righted herself and dug her heels in before making her way through the streets as quick as she could. As soon as she got to the bridge, she pressed in her heels and Tempest lived to his name as his hooves struck the bridge with a sound like thunder and they galloped to the far end with a speed that seemed to try and rival lightning. On their arrival, Sigyn dismounted and pulled the horse by the reins into the Bifrost. ‘Heimdall?’

‘Princess.’ He turned and walked up to the centre of the Bifrost.

Sigyn smiled to see the sword already in place. ‘Second time’s the charm, right?’

‘I hope…’ Heimdall paused before sighing and shaking his head. ‘I am sorry, Princess.’

Sigyn bit her cheeks for a moment. ‘Which one?’

‘Me.’ She turned to face her mother. ‘So, this is it? Running away, not facing the consequences, like a child?’

‘I am facing the consequences of my actions. I accidentally caused my sons to be created, so I am being a responsible adult and being with them, raising them.’

‘You have no idea what to do.’

‘I am not going to pretend I know everything, but I am their mother, I am not some bumbling fool. I won't have a pile of nursemaids to assist me, and I will get things wrong, but you know, I will actually accept my shortcomings.’

‘You think my actions are faulted.’

Sigyn scoffed. ‘Look around, Mother. We are standing in the Bifrost. I am fleeing the realm as nigh on a fugitive to be with my children because you.’ She pointed to her mother. ‘Took them from the room without me ever being able to see them.’

‘It was only going to make it harder.’

Sigyn laughed. ‘No, it couldn’t have. Living was torture without them. You never suffered it, you cannot understand.’ She stepped forward. ‘Sansa’s last moments of life were spent protecting Loki, she died praying to the Norns that he would be saved. I do not have a way of seeing it, but I know it because it was my thoughts, they are the thoughts of a mother that is being forced from her child. I thought the very same thing, the only difference is, she died, meaning that she no longer could worry. I have not slept without a single night passing that I have not woken crying, wanting to be with them as the vague image of one and the knowledge I never saw the other plague me. How could you have done that to me? How could you have been so heartless?’

‘Do not say such things to me, I am your mother.’

‘And I am their mother!’

‘You are the princess of Asgard, you cannot just leave.’

‘Watch me.’

You have a duty to the realm.’

‘My greatest duty is to them.’

‘So you would abandon your family, just like that?’ Frigga snapped her fingers.

‘I am going to my family.’ She retorted. ‘I have two little boys who need their mother. I have a husband I love with all of my heart and who I would have ten more children with if he wanted. I love my family and I would die for them.’  

‘When did this marriage take even take place?’

‘The reason Loki and I were not in Aunt Ana’s when you got there is because we were on our honeymoon. We wanted our children born to a home that had both parents, we wanted them to be legitimate.’

‘You really have sealed Asgard’s fate.’ Frigga stated sadly. ‘With childish selfishness.’

‘You have sealed it by being a terrible Queen. You could have stopped this years ago, you could have copped Odin on, but no, you were selfish, you liked everything that his actions got you. Whatever else happens, I know I am being a responsible adult, while you act like nothing more than a selfish lapdog to her bigoted…’ In all honesty, Sigyn knew it was coming, she could see it before it landed and if she wanted, she could have defended herself, but she allowed it. The moment Frigga’s hand connected with her face told her that her mother had thought she was going to prevent it striking her. The acceptance on Sigyn’s face shook Frigga. ‘Does it make it better, Mother? Does it take the sting from my words? I cannot see how. Goodbye, Frigga. I hope you can find it in yourself to change how you are, in hopes that the day will come that you will realise the wrongs here today. I am going to my family. If Odin sends anyone, he had better send them all, because I can and will destroy any that come for me or mine.’ She warned. ‘I know what my name really means, the one from the prophecy that I was so long blamed for.’ Frigga’s head tilted slightly. ‘I am sorry for what my birth did to you, taking that from you, the chance of more children, but I did not ask to exist and I will not apologise for existing, now I am going to exist to the best of my ability.’ She turned. ‘Heimdall. If you would, please.’

‘It will be my honour, Sigyn, the Loyal, the Victory Bringer.’

Inhaling deeply, Sigyn mounted her horse before turning to her mother. ‘I forgive you both, tell him that.’ She stated as the machine began to whir to life. ‘Even if you are not sorry. You did what you thought was right, you just….did not realise that what you thought was right is anything but.’ She nudged Tempest with her heels. ‘Thank you, Heimdall.’

‘Safe travels, Princess.’ The Guardian smiled as he watched her walk the horse into the light and disappear across the realms. He pulled the sword from the Bifrost and looked at Frigga, who was crying. ‘We are often blinded by our own beliefs, we forget others have their own.’

‘You have no idea what…’

‘You forget in your heartache, Allmother, I see all, and the Princess is only one of those I have been forced to endure see through great struggles. Asgard will change from this, there is no doubt, it can be for its better, or for the worse, that is up to the Allfather.’ He said nothing more to the queen as he turned to face the realms again.

*

Odin stared out the window of his rooms as the Bifrost finished sending Sigyn where she wanted to go. ‘Are you satisfied now, now that our realm is left in this turmoil?’ He turned to face Thor, who was smiling.

‘I am heartbroken, I want nothing more than to go into a dark room and not see any as I accept I will not see my sister for a very long time again, but yet, I am elated beyond measure, she is free to be with her family, her husband and her sons.’

‘You knew they had wed?’

‘Yes, Aunt Ana told me. I was her informer here by the way. I have betrayed you, I confess, but not before you betrayed Sigyn.’

‘You are a traitor, and will be treated as such, you are not worthy of Mjolnir.’

‘Yet here she remains, in my grasp.’ Thor took the hammer and swung it around. ‘Does this not tell you Father, your ideas are contorted and wrong?’

‘Asgard will fall from this.’ Odin did not look at his son.

‘And perhaps that is not a bad thing. Let the rot die, cut it off, like a diseased limb, start afresh. The Jotnar are here, let this start us anew, accept Laufey’s hand.’

‘I...I cannot.’

‘Then it is not Sigyn fulfilling a prophecy of destruction, it is you. I have read the prophecy, Father. And yes, the catalyst of it is clearly Sigyn, but that is not a bad thing, in no way does it indicate a terrible fate for our realm. We can take it to mean the end of everything, or we can see it as a turning point. I beseech you to see it as the latter, Asgard can and will rise from this stronger, if you choose to let it be.’

‘And her?’

‘Your daughter, Sigyn, you mean?’ Thor scoffed, angered by his father’s lack of ability to even reference Sigyn.

‘You say yourself she is the subject of it.’

‘I believe so, but her marriage, her children, they are not negatives, you need to cease seeing them as so.’ Thor walked forward and left something on the table for his father. ‘She wrote this for you, when you are in a listening mind, read it.’ He turned and he left.

Odin glared at the envelope before snarling and turning away again.

Thor on the other hand, went to the quarters King Laufey was staying in, and waited to be announced.

‘Jotnar usually sleep at this time.’ Laufey growled once he saw him.

‘I apologise for annoying you at this hour,’ Thor bowed his head before looking at the Jotnar king and his attire. ‘Though clearly…’

‘Considering my daughter has had to flee the palace to return to my son and grandsons, I could not see fit to slumber.’

‘We call such relations “daughters-in-law”.’ Thor informed him.

‘When a woman marries into a family on Jotunheim, she is embraced fully into the family, she is my daughter by such now, and my responsibility.’

‘Well, she is still my sister, that is not a role I am foregoing.’ Thor stated with a smile.

Laufey chuckled. ‘Then she is well loved and protected, not that she needs protecting.’

‘If Father sends someone after her, she will decimate them where they stand.’

‘That, I would believe. What has you here now, as I know she is gone?’

‘She mentioned something of teaching Helbindi chess, she made me promise that I would.’

Laufey smiled. ‘There was mention of that, yes.’

‘While we wait to see if my father decides to declare war, how about we make a start?’ Thor offered. Helbindi was concerned, but as he knew it was for his betterment, he sat down and listened to Thor.

* Sigyn had little idea where it was she needed to go to find Loki, she had never been to Alfheim’s village regions before, but she knew Heimdall would ensure she was close to where she needed to be. Concentrating, she closed her eyes and let her seidr come to the fore. As soon as she did that, she realised she could sense her sons’ seidr. Ensuring she had Tempest going the correct direction. She pressed her heels in and made her way to where she felt she would find them.

It did not take long for her to smell what she needed to smell, burn and iron, the trademark smells of a forge. She all but jumped off the horse and went to the door, knowing it was her sons’ seidr that she sensed within, she inhaled deeply and knocked on the door, all too aware it was the middle of the night. She heard noises inside sounding like people talking and someone coming to the door. It opened slightly and in the darkness, all she could see was alabaster skin and green eyes. ‘Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I was looking for my husband.’ She smiled, her eyes filled with tears of joy.

[pamphletstoinspire]

THE BOOK OF TOBIAS Or Tobit* - From The Douay-Rheims Bible - Latin Vulgate

Chapter 12

INTRODUCTION.

This Book takes its name from the holy man Tobias, whose wonderful virtues are herein recorded. It contains most excellent documents of great piety, extraordinary patience, and of perfect resignation to the will of God. His humble prayer was heard, and the angel Raphael was sent to relieve him: he is thankful, and praises the Lord, calling on the children of Israel to do the same. Having lived to the age of one hundred and two years, he exhorts his son and grandsons to piety, foretells the destruction of Ninive, and the rebuilding of Jerusalem: he dies happily. Ch. --- The Jews themselves have a great regard for the book of Tobias; (Grot. Sixtus Senens. viii.) which Origen (ad Afric.) says they "read in Hebrew," meaning probably the Chaldee, (C.) out of which language S. Jerom translated it, preferring to displease the Pharisaical Jews, rather than not to satisfy the desires of the holy bishops Chromatius and Heliodorus. Ep. t. iii. W. --- The Greek version seems to have been taken from another copy, or it has been executed with greater liberty by the Hellenist Jews, between the times of the Sept. and of Theodotion. C. --- Huet and Prideaux esteem it more original; and Houbigant has translated it in his Bible, as the Council of Trent only spoke of the Latin editions then extant; and S. Jerom followed in his version the Hebrew one of a Jew, as he did not understand the Chaldee. H. --- The Syriac and the modern Hebrew edition of Fagius, agree mostly with the Greek, as that of Munster and another Heb. copy of Huet, and the Arabic version, both unpublished, are more conformable to the Vulgate. The most ancient Latin version used before S. Jerom, was taken from the Greek; and the Fathers who lived in those ages, speak of it when they call the book of Tobias canonical. S. Aug. leaves it, however, to adopt S. Jerom's version, in his Mirrour. The copies of all these versions vary greatly, (C.) though the substance of the history is still the same; and in all we discover the virtues of a good parent, of a dutiful son, and virtuous husband, beautifully described. H. --- "The servant of God, holy Tobias, is given to us after the law for an example, that we might know how to practise what we read; and that if temptations assail us, we may not depart from the fear of God, nor expect help from any other." S. Aug. q. 119. ex utroque Test. --- The four first chapters exhibit the holy life of old Tobias, and the eight following, the journey and affairs of his son, directed by Raphael. In the two last chapters they praise God, and the elder Tobias foretells the better state of the commonwealth. W. --- It is probable that both left records, from which this work has been compiled, with a few additional observations. It was written during (C.) or after the captivity of Babylon. E. --- The Jews had then little communication with each other, in different kingdoms. Tobias was not allowed to go into Media, under Sennacherib; and it is probable that the captives at Babylon would be under similar restrictions; so that we do not need to wonder that they were unacquainted with this history of a private family, the records of which seem to have been kept at Ecbatana. The original Chaldee is entirely lost, so that it is impossible to ascertain whether the Greek or the Vulg. be more conformable to it. The chronology of the latter seems however more accurate, as the elder Tobias foretold the destruction of Ninive, twenty-three years before the event, which his son just beheld verified, dying in the 18th year of king Josias. The accounts which appear to sectaries to be fabulous, may easily be explained. Houbigant. --- Josephus and Philo omit this history. C.

* One of the seven Deutero-Canonical books, missing from most non-Catholic Bibles.

The additional Notes in this Edition of the New Testament will be marked with the letter A. Such as are taken from various Interpreters and Commentators, will be marked as in the Old Testament. B. Bristow, C. Calmet, Ch. Challoner, D. Du Hamel, E. Estius, J. Jansenius, M. Menochius, Po. Polus, P. Pastorini, T. Tirinus, V. Bible de Vence, W. Worthington, Wi. Witham. — The names of other authors, who may be occasionally consulted, will be given at full length.

Verses are in English and Latin. HAYDOCK CATHOLIC BIBLE COMMENTARY

This Catholic commentary on the Old Testament, following the Douay-Rheims Bible text, was originally compiled by Catholic priest and biblical scholar Rev. George Leo Haydock (1774-1849). This transcription is based on Haydock's notes as they appear in the 1859 edition of Haydock's Catholic Family Bible and Commentary printed by Edward Dunigan and Brother, New York, New York.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

Changes made to the original text for this transcription include the following:

Greek letters. The original text sometimes includes Greek expressions spelled out in Greek letters. In this transcription, those expressions have been transliterated from Greek letters to English letters, put in italics, and underlined. The following substitution scheme has been used: A for Alpha; B for Beta; G for Gamma; D for Delta; E for Epsilon; Z for Zeta; E for Eta; Th for Theta; I for Iota; K for Kappa; L for Lamda; M for Mu; N for Nu; X for Xi; O for Omicron; P for Pi; R for Rho; S for Sigma; T for Tau; U for Upsilon; Ph for Phi; Ch for Chi; Ps for Psi; O for Omega. For example, where the name, Jesus, is spelled out in the original text in Greek letters, Iota-eta-sigma-omicron-upsilon-sigma, it is transliterated in this transcription as, Iesous. Greek diacritical marks have not been represented in this transcription.

Footnotes. The original text indicates footnotes with special characters, including the astrisk (*) and printers' marks, such as the dagger mark, the double dagger mark, the section mark, the parallels mark, and the paragraph mark. In this transcription all these special characters have been replaced by numbers in square brackets, such as [1], [2], [3], etc.

Accent marks. The original text contains some English letters represented with accent marks. In this transcription, those letters have been rendered in this transcription without their accent marks.

Other special characters.

Solid horizontal lines of various lengths that appear in the original text have been represented as a series of consecutive hyphens of approximately the same length, such as ---.

Ligatures, single characters containing two letters united, in the original text in some Latin expressions have been represented in this transcription as separate letters. The ligature formed by uniting A and E is represented as Ae, that of a and e as ae, that of O and E as Oe, and that of o and e as oe.

Monetary sums in the original text represented with a preceding British pound sterling symbol (a stylized L, transected by a short horizontal line) are represented in this transcription with a following pound symbol, l.

The half symbol (1/2) and three-quarters symbol (3/4) in the original text have been represented in this transcription with their decimal equivalent, (.5) and (.75) respectively.

Unreadable text. Places where the transcriber's copy of the original text is unreadable have been indicated in this transcription by an empty set of square brackets, [].

Chapter 12

Raphael maketh himself known.

[1] Then Tobias called to him his son, and said to him: What can we give to this holy man, that is come with thee?

Tunc vocavit ad se Tobias filium suum, dixitque ei : Quid possumus dare viro isti sancto, qui venit tecum?

[2] Tobias answering, said to his father: Father, what wages shall we give him? or what can be worthy of his benefits?

Respondens Tobias, dixit patri suo : Pater, quam mercedem dabimus ei? aut quid dignum poterit esse beneficiis ejus?

[3] He conducted me and brought me safe again, he received the money of Gabelus, he caused me to have my wife, and he chased from her the evil spirit, he gave joy to her parents, myself he delivered from being devoured by the fish, thee also he hath made to see the light of heaven, and we are filled with all good things through him. What can we give him sufficient for these things?

Me duxit et reduxit sanum, pecuniam a Gabelo ipse recepit, uxorem ipse me habere fecit, et daemonium ab ea ipse compescuit : gaudium parentibus ejus fecit, meipsum a devoratione piscis eripuit, te quoque videre fecit lumen caeli, et bonis omnibus per eum repleti sumus. Quid illi ad haec poterimus dignum dare?

[4] But I beseech thee, my father, to desire him, that he would vouchsafe to accept one half of all things that have been brought.

Sed peto te, pater mi, ut roges eum, si forte dignabitur medietatem de omnibus, quae allata sunt, sibi assumere.

[5] So the father and the son, calling him, took him aside: and began to desire him that he would vouchsafe to accept of half of all things that they had brought.

Et vocantes eum, pater scilicet et filius, tulerunt eum in partem : et rogare coeperunt ut dignaretur dimidiam partem omnium, quae attulerant, acceptam habere.

[6] Then he said to them secretly: Bless ye the God of heaven, give glory to him in the sight of all that live, because he hath shewn his mercy to you.

Tunc dixit eis occulte : Benedicite Deum caeli, et coram omnibus viventibus confitemini ei, quia fecit vobiscum misericordiam suam.

[7] For it is good to hide the secret of a king: but honourable to reveal and confess the works of God.

Etenim sacramentum regis abscondere bonum est : opera autem Dei revelare et confiteri honorificum est.

[8] Prayer is good with fasting and alms more than to lay up treasures of gold:

Bona est oratio cum jejunio, et eleemosyna magis quam thesauros auri recondere :

[9] For alms delivereth from death, and the same is that which purgeth away sins, and maketh to find mercy and life everlasting.

quoniam eleemosyna a morte liberat, et ipsa est, quae purgat peccata, et facit invenire misericordiam et viam aeternam.

[10] But they that commit sin and iniquity, are enemies to their own soul.

Qui autem faciunt peccatum, et iniquitatem, hostes sunt animae suae.

[11] I discover then the truth unto you, and I will not hide the secret from you.

Manifesto ergo vobis veritatem, et non abscondam a vobis occultum sermonem.

[12] When thou didst pray with tears, and didst bury the dead, and didst leave thy dinner, and hide the dead by day in thy house, and bury them by night, I offered thy prayer to the Lord.

Quando orabas cum lacrimis, et sepeliebas mortuos, et derelinquebas prandium tuum, et mortuos abscondebas per diem in domo tua, et nocte sepeliebas eos, ego obtuli orationem tuam Domino.

[13] And because thou wast acceptable to God, it was necessary that temptation should prove thee.

Et quia acceptus eras Deo, necesse fuit ut tentatio probaret te.

[14] And now the Lord hath sent me to heal thee, and to deliver Sara thy son's wife from the devil.

Et nunc misit me Dominus ut curarem te, et Saram uxorem filii tui a daemonio liberarem.

[15] For I am the angel Raphael, one of the seven, who stand before the Lord.

Ego enim sum Raphael angelus, unus ex septem, qui adstamus ante Dominum.

[16] And when they had heard these things, they were troubled, and being seized with fear they fell upon the ground on their face.

Cumque haec audissent, turbati sunt, et trementes ceciderunt super terram in faciem suam.

[17] And the angel said to them: Peace be to you, fear not.

Dixitque eis angelus : Pax vobis : nolite timere.

[18] For when I was with you, I was there by the will of God: bless ye him, and sing praises to him.

Etenim cum essem vobiscum, per voluntatem Dei eram : ipsum benedicite, et cantate illi.

[19] I seemed indeed to eat and to drink with you: but I use an invisible meat and drink, which cannot be seen by men.

Videbar quidem vobiscum manducare et bibere : sed ego cibo invisibili, et potu qui ab hominibus videri non potest, utor.

[20] It is time therefore that I return to him that sent me: but bless ye God, and publish all his wonderful works.

Tempus est ergo ut revertar ad eum, qui me misit : vos autem benedicite Deum, et narrate omnia mirabilia ejus.

[21] And when he had said these things, he was taken from their sight, and they could see him no more.

Et cum haec dixisset, ab aspectu eorum ablatus est, et ultra eum videre non potuerunt.

[22] Then they lying prostrate for three hours upon their face, blessed God: and rising up, they told all his wonderful works.

Tunc prostrati per horas tres in faciem, benedixerunt Deum : et exsurgentes narraverunt omnia mirabilia ejus.

Commentary:

Ver. 1. What. Gr. Heb. and Syr. C. "See thou give the man who has come with thee his hire, and something must be added to it;" (H.) as he had promised (C. vii. 19.) a drachm a day, (C.) and more if they returned safe. H.

Ver. 2. Said. Gr. "Father, I shall not be hurt if I give him half of what I have brought, since he has conducted me safe back to thee, and has healed my wife, and brought my money, and likewise has cured thee. And the old man said, he justly deserves it. And he called the angel, and said to him, Take half of what you have brought, and depart in health. Then," v. 6.

Ver. 6. Said. Gr. "Calling the two, in private, he said to them."

Ver. 7. Hide. Gr. "To bless God, and to extol his name, exposing with honour the words of God, and delay not to confess unto him. For," &c. H. --- The Old Vulg. greatly abridges the remainder of this book, having only, "Then Raphael having called the two Tobies, said to them, Since thou hast not delayed to arise, and to leave thy meals to bury the dead, I have been sent to try thee to heal thee, and to deliver thy daughter-in-law. I am Raphael, one of the angels who assist and appear before the brightness of God. Hereupon the two Tobies were startled, and fell prostrate on the ground, and were seized with fear. And Raphael said, Fear not, Peace be with you. Bless the Lord all the days of your life, and sing his praises. You thought that I eat when I was at table with you. But you saw with your eyes; (H. only a vision. C.) wherefore bless the Lord upon the earth, and praise his goodness. As for me, I return to him who sent me. Write down all that has happened. The angel having spoken thus to Tobias, the latter wrote this prayer as a monument of his joy, and said, Blessed be the Lord, who is great in eternity, because his reign endures for ever. It is He who strikes, and who shews I mercy, who conducts to the grave, and who, by his majesty, rescues from the greatest miseries; and no one can withdraw himself from his hands. End of Tobias the just." H. --- King. Secrecy is the soul of human councils, to prevent an enemy from thwarting our designs: but nothing can withstand the divine power. It is therefore proper to testify our gratitude for favours received, as the ancient saints have done by their canticles. C.

Ver. 8. Alms. Gr. adds, "and justice. Better is a little with justice, than much with iniquity." H. --- Fasting and alms are like the wings of prayer. W. See C. iv. 11.

Ver. 9. Everlasting. This word is not found in Greek, though sufficiently implied; as liberality does not always secure a person's life, or temporal happiness. C. --- Gr. "Those who perform alms-deeds and justice, shall be filled with life. But sinners are enemies," &c.

Ver. 10. Soul. If this were understood of the present life, nothing could be less accurate, as the wicked often prosper. See Ps. x. 6. Jo. xii. 25. C.

Ver. 11. I. Gr. "I will not hide from you any word or thing. I said then, It is good to conceal the mystery of the king, but glorious to manifest the works of God. And now, when thou and thy daughter-in-law, Sarra, did pray, I brought forward the memorial of your prayer before the holy one." H. --- The angels are represented as God's ministers, offering our prayers to him. Apoc. viii. 3. C. S. Aug. W. --- Philo styles them ambassadors. Socrates says, "every demon (or good spirit) is between God and mortals." Plutarch. --- Inter homines cælicolasque, vectores hinc precum, inde donorum. Apuleius de Deo Socrat. C. --- Gr. continues, "and when thou didst bury the dead, in like manner, I was present with thee; when thou didst not delay to rise and leave thy dinner, that going thou mightest cover the dead; in thy good work, thou wast not hidden from me: but I was with thee. And," &c. v. 14. H.

Ver. 13. Thee. This rule is invariable, that the good may advance in virtue, and set a pattern to the world, (Heb. ii. 18. and xii. 6. Acts xiv. 21. C.) and cancel their smallest faults.

Ver. 14. From the devil, is not in Greek. H. --- In this history, as well as in other parts of Scripture, we have convincing proofs of the good which each one receives from his angel guardian, and from the other blessed spirits. See S. Luke xv. and xvi. S. Chrys. in col. hom. 3. S. Aug. de Civ. Dei. xi. 31. &c. W.

Ver. 15. Raphael. We know also the names of Michael and Gabriel. All others are apocryphal; such as Uriel, Saltiel, Jeadriel Barachiel, &c. --- Seven. This number is clearly specified by S. John, Apoc. i. 4. A mass in their honour was approved by Pius IV. It is supposed that the seven deacons in the Church of Rome, and of Jerusalem, were instituted in imitation of them. The kings, Assuerus, &c. had seven chief officers. Est. i. 10. C. --- Lord, ready to fulfil his orders, as innumerable other angels, of inferior degree, are likewise. M. Dan. vii. 10. --- These were the princes of the heavenly court. S. Jerom (con. Jovin.) admits only seven orders of angels. C. --- Gr. "I am Raphael, one of the seven holy angels who offer up the prayers of the saints, and go out before the glory of the Holy One. And they were both troubled," &c. (H.) at so unusual a thing, (M.) and filled with reverential awe. H. --- They might also suspect that death would shortly follow. C. Gen. xvi. 13.

Ver. 17. Be. Gr. "shall be with you. But praise God: for I came not of my own accord, but by the will of our God. Wherefore praise him for ever."

Ver. 19. I. Gr. "I appeared to you all the days; yet I did not eat nor drink. But you beheld a vision." H. --- Having an aerial body, he made the provisions disappear, as the sun melts snow. Gen. xviii. 9. C. --- He might swallow, though he had no need of meat, (S. Aug. de Civ. Dei. xiii. 22.) or digestion, (Grotius) so as to convert it into his substance. M. --- Men. I constantly enjoy the beatific vision. Mat. xviii. 10. C.

Ver. 20. It. Gr. "And now confess to God, because I ascend to him who sent me. Write ye all these occurrences in a book. And they arose, and beheld him no longer; and they proclaimed the great and wonderful works of God, and how the angel of the Lord had appeared to them." H. - Almost all interpreters infer from this injunction, (C.) that the work before us was originally composed by these holy men. H.

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[fear-god-shun-evil]

After Waiting for the Second Coming of the Lord for Over 50 Years, My Wish Finally Comes True

By Chang Jie

Editor’s Note: She’d believed in the Lord for over 50 years and, for all that time, she believed that the Lord Jesus was the one and only Redeemer of mankind, and she looked forward to the Lord returning to receive her up into the kingdom of heaven. When someone preached to her that the Lord had returned and was performing a new work, she couldn’t accept it and believed that to accept this new work would be to betray the Lord. But was she right to believe this? This article, “After Waiting for the Second Coming of the Lord for Over 50 Years, My Wish Finally Comes True,” will give you the answer.

I Begin Believing in the Lord at a Young Age and I Long for His Return for 50 Years

I was a Catholic and my family had believed in the Lord for generations. When I was 15 or 16, I began going to church to attend Mass and to take the sacramental bread. Back then, the priest would say to us in his sermons, “The Lord Jesus we trust in is our one and only Savior and He was crucified to redeem us. Only by staying faithful to Him will we be raised up to the heavenly kingdom when He returns in the last days. If we give up in our belief halfway and leave the Lord, then we will be betraying the Lord, and we will be punished and sent to hell.” When I heard the priest say this, I made a resolution to myself: To trust in the Lord in earnest, to confess and repent my sins more and to keep the Lord Jesus’ way, so that when the Lord returns He would lead me up into the heavenly kingdom.

Later, I got married, gave birth to a son, and then had a grandson, and yet I never abandoned the Lord. I ended up moving in with my son’s family in the city. Because there was no Catholic church nearby, I persevered with reading scriptures and saying my prayers at home. But because my life was different there and I had nothing in common with my daughter-in-law, plus the fact that my husband had passed away, I had no one to tell my feelings to. I felt incredibly lonely and I often wept in secret. During that time, an old stomach complaint returned to trouble me and it became really painful. My spirit also felt weak and powerless, and so I would often kneel before God, crying and beseeching Him, “O Almighty Holy Father, when will You come to take me up into the kingdom of heaven? I feel so weak and powerless right now and my spirit is parched and dark. I cannot feel You with me and I’ve lost my faith in life. Dear God, I don’t know what Your will is, but I ask You to show me the way.” I called on God in my distress, and I prayed in this way for several months. I still couldn’t feel His presence, however, and my spirit still felt dark and hopeless—I felt as though He had abandoned me.

An Unexpected Knock on the Door—the Lord Has Returned

A woman named Sister Li came to my home out of the blue one day and, with a beaming face, she said, “Sister, I hear you believe in the Lord. I do too, so I’ve come to your home today to fellowship with you about belief in our Lord.” When I heard her say she believed in the Lord as well, I felt as though I was looking at someone I’d known for a long time, and I spoke to her a lot about my feelings. I said, “Sister, when I believed in the Lord before, my family was peaceful and everything went smoothly for us, and the Lord watched over us and protected us. Now, my husband has passed away, my daughter-in-law dislikes and belittles me, and I don’t like her either. Though I may appear tolerant and patient with her on the outside, now and again I feel like losing my temper, and I live in a constant state of sinning and confessing. Now, I can’t feel the Lord’s presence, my spirit is parched and dark and I can’t keep the Lord’s way. We are now in the last days and the Lord will soon return. I’m now wondering whether the Lord has abandoned me, and whether or not He will still lead me into the kingdom of heaven.”

Sister Li comforted me by saying, “Sister, don’t get upset. I’ve come today to tell you some wonderful news: The Lord Jesus, whom we have longed for day and night, has returned. His name is Almighty God, and He has been expressing His words since 1991. He has brought the Age of Grace to a close, He has launched the Age of Kingdom and He is performing the work of judgment beginning in the house of God. The Holy Spirit is no longer working within the churches of the Age of Grace but has shifted His work onto a group of people who accept and follow Almighty God—this is the real reason why our spirits feel so dark and parched! Now, all who keep up with Almighty God’s work of the last days are able to attend the feast of the Lamb, to be watered with the living water of life, and to obtain the work of the Holy Spirit.” After listening to Sister Li’s fellowship, I felt amazed, and I thought to myself: “What? The Lord has returned, He is called Almighty God, and He is performing a new work? Can this be true? But my priest enjoined us to stay faithful to the Lord, or else He would not lead us up into the heavenly kingdom. I’d better tread carefully.” So as to save face, however, and seeing how warm and sincere she was toward me and how kindly she spoke, I did not refute her claims. We talked for more than two hours, and then she left.

After she’d gone, I felt agitated for a long time, and so I hurriedly prayed before God. “O God, You are all-knowing, all-powerful and all-righteous. Could it be that You have heard my prayer? Have you sent Sister Li to me to tell me that You have returned, that Your name is Almighty God and that You are performing a new work using words to judge and chastise mankind? O God, when I heard the news of Your second coming, I felt so thrilled, but I don’t know whether it is true or not. My priest always said that only the Lord Jesus is our Savior, so if I go on to believe in Almighty God, would I be betraying You? O God, is Almighty God really Your second coming? I pray that You enlighten and guide me on this matter.”

I Calm Myself and Hear God’s Words, and I Find the Footsteps of the Lamb

On the third day after her visit, Sister Li came again, and she asked me, “Sister, I told you last time that God had incarnated and returned in the last days and that He had come again into the world to perform a new work. How do you feel about that?” I said, “This is a great and wonderful thing! I’ve thought about it a lot since I saw you last, and your fellowship was certainly quite enlightening. But I’m still a little concerned because my priest always used to say that we had to always stay faithful to the Lord and that we must always keep the Lord’s way. He said that if we left the Lord Jesus halfway through our belief, then that would be a serious betrayal and we would go down to hell. I’ve believed in the Lord for over 50 years, and I’m afraid of going astray.”

Sister Li then patiently gave me fellowship. “Sister, we believe that only by keeping faith in the Lord Jesus can we be faithful to Him, and that if we stop believing in the Lord Jesus and begin believing in Almighty God, this is a betrayal of the Lord Jesus. Sister, does this belief we hold accord with the will of God? We’ll understand once we’ve read two passages of Almighty God’s words.” As she said this, she opened her book of God’s words, and began to read: “The work of today has pushed forward the work of the Age of Grace; that is, the work under the entire six-thousand-year management plan has moved forward. Though the Age of Grace has ended, there has been progress in God’s work. Why do I say time and again that this stage of work builds upon the Age of Grace and the Age of Law? Because the work of this day is a continuation of the work done in the Age of Grace, and an advance over that done in the Age of Law. The three stages are tightly interconnected, with each link in the chain closely tied to the next. Why do I also say that this stage of work builds on that done by Jesus? Supposing that this stage did not build on the work done by Jesus, another crucifixion would have to take place in this stage, and the redemptive work of the previous stage would have to be done all over again. This would be meaningless. And so it is not that the work is completely finished, but that the age has moved forward and the level of the work has been raised higher than before. It can be said that this stage of work is built on the foundation of the Age of Law and upon the rock of Jesus’ work. God’s work is built stage by stage, and this stage is not a new beginning. Only the combination of the three stages of work may be deemed the six-thousand-year management plan. … Jesus and I come from one Spirit. Even though We are unrelated in Our fleshes, Our Spirits are one; even though the content of what We do and the work that We take on are not the same, We are alike in essence; Our fleshes take different forms, but this is due to the change in era and the differing requirements of Our work; Our ministries are not alike, so the work We bring forth and the dispositions We reveal to man are also different. That is why what man sees and understands this day is unlike in the past, which is because of the change in era.” “I was once known as Jehovah. I was also called the Messiah, and people once called Me Jesus the Savior because they loved and respected Me. But today I am not the Jehovah or Jesus that people knew in times past—I am the God who has returned in the last days, the God who shall bring the age to an end. I am the God Himself that rises up at the ends of the earth, replete with My entire disposition, and full of authority, honor and glory.”

Sister Li continued her fellowship. “We can see from Almighty God’s words that God has a six-thousand-year management plan which is completed in three stages—the Age of Law, the Age of Grace and the Age of Kingdom. In each age, God performs different work according to the needs of mankind and according to His own management plan, and His name also changes along with the age. In the Age of Law, for example, mankind understood nothing, and the work performed by Jehovah God was primarily that of leading nascent humanity in their lives on the earth, proclaiming His law for man to follow and teaching them how to worship Jehovah. But by the end of the Age of Law, mankind was becoming more and more sinful, they could not keep the law any longer and they were in danger of being condemned to death by the law. In order to save mankind, Jehovah became flesh and came into the world and, on the basis of the work of the Age of Law, He performed the work of redeeming mankind. All who accepted the work of the Lord Jesus were forgiven their sins and would no longer be condemned to death by the law. Although by believing in the Lord Jesus our sins are forgiven, our sinful nature remains. We still live in a constant state of sinning and confessing day after day and we cannot keep the Lord’s way. The Lord Jesus said, ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy’ (1 Peter 1:16). From this, we can see that the Lord Jesus required us to be pure, for only then could we enter into the heavenly kingdom. And yet still we live in sin even now and we simply cannot achieve that state of purity. If the Lord’s work had remained as the work of absolving us of our sins, when would we ever be able to truly be rid of our corruption? Therefore, we need the Lord Jesus to come again to perform the work of judging and purifying man with His words. The Lord Jesus has also said Himself that He would come again to tell us all the things we don’t know, to express more truths to us, to perform the work of judgment beginning in the house of God and to utterly purify and change us. Now, upon the basis of the work performed by the Lord Jesus, Almighty God is performing a new work. He has expressed many millions of words to judge and expose the truth of mankind’s corrupt essence, so that we may come to a true understanding of our own corrupt nature and truly come to hate it, and then practice in accordance with God’s words. When we do that, our corrupt dispositions can truly be purified and changed. It is therefore evident that these three stages of work are closely interlinked, with each stage of work at a higher level than the last. But no matter how God’s work or name may change, His work is always done by one God, and this precisely fulfills the words: ‘I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end’ (Revelation 22:13). Therefore, by accepting the new work performed by Almighty God, not only are we not betraying the Lord Jesus, but instead we are actually following closely the Lord’s footsteps and receiving the Lord’s salvation of the last days!”

After listening to God’s words and the sister’s fellowship, my mind was much illuminated. The Lord Jesus’ work to redeem mankind is over, and He long ago returned to the earth to perform His work of judging and purifying man with words, which is performed on the basis of the work of redemption, and this is a higher stage of work. Believing in Almighty God is not a betrayal of the Lord Jesus, but instead it is just keeping pace with God’s new work! And so, I said to Sister Li, “Sister, I’ve listened to God’s words that you’ve read out and also to your fellowship, and I’m beginning to understand. I hope you can come often to give me fellowship in the future.”

Through Fellowship, I Become Sure that Almighty God Is Indeed the Second Coming of the Lord Jesus

After the sister had left, I thought to myself: “The sister’s fellowship sounded pretty reasonable. Each of God’s three stages of work is at a higher level than the last. We now live in a constant state of sinning and confessing, and we do indeed need God to purify and save us. It seems possible that Almighty God is the second coming of the Lord Jesus but, after all, I have believed in the Lord Jesus for over 50 years and I am still a little worried about going astray in my faith.” Just to be sure, I paid a visit to church to tell the priest about the news of the Lord’s return, as I wanted to ask him what he thought of the second coming of the Lord. Before I’d even finished speaking, however, the priest interrupted me and said to me, “How could you listen to the way of Eastern Lightning and start believing in Almighty God? That is a betrayal of the Lord, and you will go to hell when you die! Only by staying faithful to the Lord will He raise us up into the heavenly kingdom when He returns, and you must absolutely not accept the way of Eastern Lightning.” When I heard him say this, I was disgusted, and I thought: “These priests only know to say we mustn’t believe in Almighty God, but they don’t fellowship about the truth with us, and I’m not convinced they know what they’re talking about.” And so, I spoke sternly to him and said, “I think it’s best to seek and investigate it before we judge its merits. What will we do if Almighty God really is the second coming of the Lord?” But no matter what I said, he wouldn’t listen to me. There was nothing else I could do, so I left.

When I got home, Sister Li arrived, and I told her about my visit to the priest. She smiled and said, “We’ve believed in the Lord all these years, so I understand when people cannot accept God’s new work straight away. Let’s read God’s words together. God is the truth, the way and the life, and His words can solve all our problems.” We then opened our books of God’s words and, at Sister Li’s bidding, I read: “In each period of time, God will begin new work, and in each period, there will be a new beginning among man. If man only abides by the truths that ‘Jehovah is God’ and ‘Jesus is Christ,’ which are truths that only apply to a single age, then man will never keep up with the work of the Holy Spirit, and will forever be incapable of gaining the work of the Holy Spirit. Regardless of how God works, man follows without the slightest doubt, and he follows closely. In this way, how could man be eliminated by the Holy Spirit? Regardless of what God does, as long as man is certain that it is the work of the Holy Spirit, and cooperates in the work of the Holy Spirit without any misgivings, and tries to meet the requirements of God, then how could he be punished? The work of God has never ceased, His footsteps have never halted, and prior to the completion of His work of management, He has always been busy, and never stops.”

Sister Li then gave fellowship, saying, “Almighty God’s words tell us that God’s work moves ever onward, and that God is ever new and never old. Only those who accept the Lord’s new work are the ones who can genuinely keep pace with His footsteps. When the Lord Jesus came to perform His work, for example, the Pharisees blindly clung to their notion that ‘if He is not called Messiah, then He cannot be the Lord and He cannot be God,’ and they denied and resisted the Lord Jesus. They also condemned Him, saying that anyone who accepted the Lord’s gospel was an apostate. The result of this was that, not only did they themselves not accept the Lord’s gospel, but they also stopped the faithful from accepting it either. In the end, they crucified the Lord Jesus upon the cross, thus offending God’s disposition and becoming people who opposed God. People such as Peter and John, on the other hand, had always believed in Jehovah God, even before they’d heard the news of the Lord Jesus’ coming to perform His work. And yet when they heard someone preaching the Lord Jesus’ gospel, they were able to seek and investigate it and keep pace with the Lord’s footsteps. This was not a betrayal of Jehovah God but, quite the contrary, this was the only way to remain truly faithful to Him. We can see from this that we cannot approach God’s new work clinging to our own conceptions. Instead, we must take the initiative to seek and investigate it, for only then will we have the chance to welcome the second coming of the Lord. What’s more, we still don’t fully understand the vision of God’s three stages of work and so we may still be unsure of it in our hearts. But by incarnating this time, God reveals all the mysteries of His work, and by reading His words more, we can come to have a clearer understanding of the vision of His work.”

After listening to Almighty God’s words and the sister’s fellowship, my mind became even more illuminated and, deeply moved, I said, “Sister, God’s words are so practical. I’d believed that keeping the Lord’s way was being faithful to the Lord, and so I was unable at first to accept the new work of the second coming of the Lord. But now I understand that, only by keeping pace with the Lamb’s footsteps can I truly be faithful to the Lord. By listening to your fellowships and by reading Almighty God’s words, I feel certain in my heart that Almighty God is the second coming of the Lord, and I now wish to accept Almighty God’s work of the last days.” After I’d said this, we both laughed with joy and, simultaneously, we both said, “Thanks be to God!”

I later read many of Almighty God’s words, such as “Knowing the Three Stages of God’s Work Is the Path to Knowing God,” “Do You Know? God Has Done a Great Thing Among Men” and “The Savior Has Already Returned Upon a ‘White Cloud.’” From reading these chapters, I came to understand such things as the purpose of God’s six-thousand-year management work, how God saves man and how Satan corrupts man, and I became even more certain that Almighty God is the second coming of the Lord Jesus.

At Last, I Keep Pace With the Footsteps of the Lamb and My Heart Is Filled With Sweetness and Joy

Afterward, I began to live the church life in The Church of Almighty God. Everyone in the church is able to be completely open with each other and to talk about our own individual experiences and knowledge. If someone has a problem, then everyone else helps them with compassion, and I feel close to my brothers and sisters in the church as though we were all one family. Over time, as I read more and more of Almighty God’s words, my spirit began to feel enriched and I joined the ranks of the gospel preachers so that I could perform my duty as one of God’s creations.

[book-begin-end-blog]

“Alexander Hamilton” by Ron Chernow / NON-FICTION

BEGIN Alexander Hamilton claimed Nevis in the British West Indies as his birthplace, although no surviving records substantiate this. Today, the tiny island seems little more than a colorful speck in the Caribbean, an exotic tourist hideaway. One million years ago, the land that is now Nevis Peak thrust up from the seafloor to form the island, and the extinct volcanic cone still intercepts the trade winds at an altitude of 3,200 feet, its jagged peak often obscured behind a thick swirl of clouds. This omnipresent mountain, looming over jungles, plunging gorges, and verdant foothills that sweep down to sandy beaches, made the island a natural fortress for the British. It abounded in both natural wonders and horrors: in 1690, the first capital, Jamestown, was swallowed whole by the sea during an earthquake and tidal wave.

To modern eyes, Nevis may seem like a sleepy backwater to which Hamilton was confined before his momentous escape to St. Croix and North America. But if we adjust our vision to eighteenth-century realities, we see that this West Indian setting was far from marginal, the crossroads of a bitter maritime rivalry among European powers vying for mastery of the lucrative sugar trade. A small revolution in consumer tastes had turned the Caribbean into prized acreage for growing sugarcane to sweeten the coffee, tea, and cocoa imbibed in fashionable European capitals. As a result, the small, scattered islands generated more wealth for Britain than all of her North American colonies combined. “The West Indians vastly outweigh us of the northern colonies,” Benjamin Franklin grumbled in the 1760s.1 After the French and Indian War, the British vacillated about whether to swap all of Canada for the island of Guadeloupe; in the event the French toasted their own diplomatic cunning in retaining the sugar island. The sudden popularity of sugar, dubbed “white gold,” engendered a brutal world of overnight fortunes in which slavery proved indispensable. Since indigenous Caribbeans and Europeans balked at toiling in the sweltering canebrakes, thousands of blacks were shipped from slave-trading forts in West Africa to cultivate Nevis and the neighboring islands…

… By the time Burr sailed home in 1812 as “Mr. A. Arnot,” all charges had been dropped against him. To get back on his feet in New York, he borrowed a law library from Robert Troup and tried to revive his practice. A solitary figure who had relinquished interest in politics, he soon lost the last emotional props of his life. That summer, his adored grandson, Aaron Burr Alston, died at age ten. He still had his beloved Theodosia, however, whose portrait he had toted around Europe, cradling it in his lap during stagecoach trips. Though her husband was now governor of South Carolina, gossip claimed that he was abusing her. At the end of 1812, the morose Theodosia sailed for New York to join her father, but she never made it. She died at sea, age twenty-nine, the victim of either a storm or pirates. It was the heaviest blow that Burr ever weathered, so crushing that he described himself as “severed from the human race.”55 Four years later, his son-in-law, Joseph Alston, died at thirty-seven. This rash of calamities recapitulated the stunning sequence of deaths that Burr had suffered as a child. Already a ghost of times past, Burr became a famous recluse, occasionally pointed out on the New York streets. He seldom socialized beyond a small circle of people.

As for the duel with Hamilton, Burr almost never showed any remorse. Soon after returning to America, he visited his aunt, Rhoda Edwards, who worried about his immortal soul and warned him, “You have committed a great many sins against God and you killed that great and good man, Colonel Hamilton. I beseech you to repent and fly to the blood and righteousness of the Redeemer for pardon.” Burr found this rather quaint: “Oh, aunt, don’t feel too badly,” he replied. “We shall both meet in heaven.”56

One day, Burr was walking down Nassau Street in New York when Chancellor James Kent happened to see him. Kent lost all control, swooped down on Burr, and started flailing at him with his cane. “You are a scoundrel, sir!” Kent shouted. “A scoundrel!” His legendary aplomb intact, Burr tipped his hat and said, “The opinions of the learned Chancellor are always entitled to the highest consideration.”57 Then he bowed and walked away. END

More part: http://13e13e.com/story/alexander-hamilton-by-ron-chernow/

[readbookywooks]

Sansa

The throne room was a sea of jewels, furs, and bright fabrics. Lords and ladies filled the back of the hall and stood beneath the high windows, jostling like fishwives on a dock.

The denizens of Joffrey's court had striven to outdo each other today. Jalabhar Xho was all in feathers, a plumage so fantastic and extravagant that he seemed like to take flight. The High Septon's crystal crown fired rainbows through the air every time he moved his head. At the council table, Queen Cersei shimmered in a cloth-of-gold gown slashed in burgundy velvet, while beside her Varys fussed and simpered in a lilac brocade. Moon Boy and Ser Dontos wore new suits of motley, clean as a spring morning. Even Lady Tanda and her daughters looked pretty in matching gowns of turquoise silk and vair, and Lord Gyles was coughing into a square of scarlet silk trimmed with golden lace. King Joffrey sat above them all, amongst the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne. He was in crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies, on his head his heavy golden crown.

Squirming through a press of knights, squires, and rich townfolk, Sansa reached the front of the gallery just as a blast of trumpets announced the entry of Lord Tywin Lannister.

He rode his warhorse down the length of the hall and dismounted before the Iron Throne. Sansa had never seen such armor; all burnished red steel, inlaid with golden scrollwork and ornamentation. His rondels were sunbursts, the roaring lion that crowned his helm had ruby eyes, and a lioness on each shoulder fastened a cloth-of-gold cloak so long and heavy that it draped the hindquarters of his charger. Even the horse's armor was gilded, and his bardings were shimmering crimson silk emblazoned with the lion of Lannister.

The Lord of Casterly Rock made such an impressive figure that it was a shock when his destrier dropped a load of dung right at the base of the throne. Joffrey had to step gingerly around it as he descended to embrace his grandfather and proclaim him Savior of the City. Sansa covered her mouth to hide a nervous smile.

Joff made a show of asking his grandfather to assume governance of the realm, and Lord Tywin solemnly accepted the responsibility, "until Your Grace does come of age." Then squires removed his armor and Joff fastened the Hand's chain of office around his neck. Lord Tywin took a seat at the council table beside the queen. After the destrier was led off and his homage removed, Cersei nodded for the ceremonies to continue.

A fanfare of brazen trumpets greeted each of the heroes as he stepped between the great oaken doors. Heralds cried his name and deeds for all to hear, and the noble knights and highborn ladies cheered as lustily as cutthroats at a cockfight. Pride of place was given to Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, a once-powerful man gone to fat, yet still handsome. His sons followed him in; Ser Loras and his older brother Ser Garlan the Gallant. The three dressed alike, in green velvet trimmed with sable.

The king descended the throne once more to greet them, a great honor. He fastened about the throat of each a chain of roses wrought in soft yellow gold, from which hung a golden disc with the lion of Lannister picked out in rubies. "The roses support the lion, as the might of Highgarden supports the realm," proclaimed Joffrey. "If there is any boon you would ask of me, ask and it shall be yours."

And now it comes, thought Sansa.

"Your Grace," said Ser Loras, "I beg the honor of serving in your Kingsguard, to defend you against your enemies."

Joffrey drew the Knight of Flowers to his feet and kissed him on his cheek. "Done, brother."

Lord Tyrell bowed his head. "There is no greater pleasure than to serve the King's Grace. If I was deemed worthy to join your royal council, you would find none more loyal or true."

Joff put a hand on Lord Tyrell's shoulder and kissed him when he stood. "Your wish is granted."

Ser Garlan Tyrell, five years senior to Ser Loras, was a taller bearded version of his more famous younger brother. He was thicker about the chest and broader at the shoulders, and though his face was comely enough, he lacked Ser Loras's startling beauty. "Your Grace," Garlan said when the king approached him, "I have a maiden sister, Margaery, the delight of our House. She was wed to Renly Baratheon, as you know, but Lord Renly went to war before the marriage could be consummated, so she remains innocent. Margaery has heard tales of your wisdom, courage, and chivalry, and has come to love you from afar. I beseech you to send for her, to take her hand in marriage, and to wed your House to mine for all time."

King Joffrey made a show of looking surprised. "Ser Garlan, your sister's beauty is famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms, but I am promised to another. A king must keep his word."

Queen Cersei got to her feet in a rustle of skirts. "Your Grace, in the judgment of your small council, it would be neither proper nor wise for you to wed the daughter of a man beheaded for treason, a girl whose brother is in open rebellion against the throne even now. Sire, your councillors beg you, for the good of your realm, set Sansa Stark aside. The Lady Margaery will make you a far more suitable queen."

Like a pack of trained dogs, the lords and ladies in the hall began to shout their pleasure. "Margaery," they called. "Give us Margaery!" and "No traitor queens! Tyrell! Tyrell!"

Joffrey raised a hand. "I would like to heed the wishes of my people, Mother, but I took a holy vow."

The High Septon stepped forward. "Your Grace, the gods hold bethrothal solemn, but your father, King Robert of blessed memory, made this pact before the Starks of Winterfell had revealed their falseness. Their crimes against the realm have freed you from any promise you might have made. So far as the Faith is concerned, there is no valid marriage contract 'twixt you and Sansa Stark."

A tumult of cheering filled the throne room, and cries of "Margaery, Margaery" erupted all around her. Sansa leaned forward, her hands tight around the gallery's wooden rail. She knew what came next, but she was still frightened of what Joffrey might say, afraid that he would refuse to release her even now, when his whole kingdom depended upon it. She felt as if she were back again on the marble steps outside the Great Sept of Baelor, waiting for her prince to grant her father mercy, and instead hearing him command Ilyn Payne to strike off his head. Please, she prayed fervently, make him say it, make him say it.

Lord Tywin was looking at his grandson. Joff gave him a sullen glance, shifted his feet, and helped Ser Garlan Tyrell to rise. "The gods are good. I am free to heed my heart. I will wed your sweet sister, and gladly, ser." He kissed Ser Garlan on a bearded cheek as the cheers rose all around them.

Sansa felt curiously light-headed. I am free. She could feel eyes upon her. I must not smile, she reminded herself. The queen had warned her; no matter what she felt inside, the face she showed the world must look distraught. "I will not have my son humiliated," Cersei said. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes. But if I'm not to be queen, what will become of me?"

"That will need to be determined. For the moment, you shall remain here at court, as our ward."

"I want to go home."

The queen was irritated by that. "You should have learned by now, none of us get the things we want."

I have, though, Sansa thought. I am free of Joffrey. I will not have to kiss him, nor give him my maidenhood, nor bear him children. Let Margaery Tyrell have all that, poor girl.

By the time the outburst died down, the Lord of Highgarden had been seated at the council table, and his sons had joined the other knights and lordlings beneath the windows. Sansa tried to look forlorn and abandoned as other heroes of the Battle of the Blackwater were summoned forth to receive their rewards.

Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, marched down the length of the hall flanked by his twin sons Horror and Slobber, the former limping from a wound taken in the battle. After them followed Lord Mathis Rowan in a snowy doublet with a great tree worked upon the breast in gold thread; Lord Randyll Tarly, lean and balding, a greatsword across his back in a jeweled scabbard; Ser Kevan Lannister, a thickset balding man with a close-trimmed beard; Ser Addam Marbrand, coppery hair streaming to his shoulders; the great western lords Lydden, Crakehall, and Brax.

Next came four of lesser birth who had distinguished themselves in the fighting: the one-eyed knight Ser Philip Foote, who had slain Lord Bryce Caron in single combat; the freerider Lothor Brune, who'd cut his way through half a hundred Fossoway men-at-arms to capture Ser Jon of the green apple and kill Ser Bryan and Ser Edwyd of the red, thereby winning himself the name Lothor Apple-Eater; Willit, a grizzled man-atarms in the service of Ser Harys Swyft, who'd pulled his master from beneath his dying horse and defended him against a dozen attackers; and a downy-cheeked squire named Josmyn Peckledon, who had killed two knights, wounded a third, and captured two more, though he could not have been more than fourteen. Willit was borne in on a litter, so grievous were his wounds.

Ser Kevan had taken a seat beside his brother Lord Tywin. When the heralds had finished telling of each hero's deeds, he rose. "It is His Grace's wish that these good men be rewarded for their valor. By his decree, Ser Philip shall henceforth be Lord Philip of House Foote, and to him shall go all the lands, rights, and incomes of House Caron. Lothor Brune to be raised to the estate of knighthood, and granted land and keep in the riverlands at war's end. To Josmyn Peckledon, a sword and suit of plate, his choice of any warhorse in the royal stables, and knighthood as soon as he shall come of age. And lastly, for Goodman Willit, a spear with a silver-banded haft, a hauberk of new-forged ringmail, and a full helm with visor. Further, the goodman's sons shall be taken into the service of House Lannister at Casterly Rock, the elder as a squire and the younger as a page, with the chance to advance to knighthood if they serve loyally and well. To all this, the King's Hand and the small council consent."

The captains of the king's warships Wildwind, Prince Aemon, and River Arrow were honored next, along with some under officers from Godsgrace, Lance, Lady of Silk, and Ramshead. As near as Sansa could tell, their chief accomplishment had been surviving the battle on the river, a feat that few enough could boast. Hallyne the Pyromancer and the masters of the Alchemists' Guild received the king's thanks as well, and Hallyne was raised to the style of lord, though Sansa noted that neither lands nor castle accompanied the title, which made the alchemist no more a true lord than Varys was. A more significant lordship by far was granted to Ser Lancel Lannister. Joffrey awarded him the lands, castle, and rights of House Darry, whose last child lord had perished during the fighting in the riverlands, "leaving no trueborn heirs of lawful Darry blood, but only a bastard cousin."

Ser Lancel did not appear to accept the title; the talk was, his wound might cost him his arm or even his life. The Imp was said to be dying as well, from a terrible cut to the head.

When the herald called, "Lord Petyr Baelish," he came forth dressed all in shades of rose and plum, his cloak patterned with mockingbirds. She could see him smiling as he knelt before the Iron Throne. He looks so pleased. Sansa had not heard of Littlefinger doing anything especially heroic during the battle, but it seemed he was to be rewarded all the same.

Ser Kevan got back to his feet. "It is the wish of the King's Grace that his loyal councillor Petyr Baelish be rewarded for faithful service to crown and realm. Be it known that Lord Baelish is granted the castle of Harrenhal with all its attendant lands and incomes, there to make his seat and rule henceforth as Lord Paramount of the Trident. Petyr Baelish and his sons and grandsons shall hold and enjoy these honors until the end of time, and all the lords of the Trident shall do him homage as their rightful liege. The King's Hand and the small council consent."

On his knees, Littlefinger raised his eyes to King Joffrey. "I thank you humbly, Your Grace. I suppose this means I'll need to see about getting some sons and grandsons."

Joffrey laughed, and the court with him. Lord Paramount of the Trident, Sansa thought, and Lord of Harrenhal as well. She did not understand why that should make him so happy; the honors were as empty as the title granted to Hallyne the Pyromancer. Harrenhal was cursed, everyone knew that, and the Lannisters did not even hold it at present. Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. Robb has beaten them every time. He'll beat Lord Baelish too, if he must.

More than six hundred new knights were made that day. They had held their vigil in the Great Sept of Baelor all through the night and crossed the city barefoot that morning to prove their humble hearts. Now they came forward dressed in shifts of undyed wool to receive their knighthoods from the Kingsguard. It took a long time, since only three of the Brothers of the White Sword were on hand to dub them. Mandon Moore had perished in the battle, the Hound had vanished, Aerys Oakheart was in Dorne with Princess Myrcella, and Jaime Lannister was Robb's captive, so the Kingsguard had been reduced to Balon Swann, Meryn Trant, and Osmund Kettleblack. Once knighted, each man rose, buckled on his swordbelt, and stood beneath the windows. Some had bloody feet from their walk through the city, but they stood tall and proud all the same, it seemed to Sansa.

By the time all the new knights had been given their sers the hall was growing restive, and none more so than Joffrey. Some of those in the gallery had begun to slip quietly away, but the notables on the floor were trapped, unable to depart without the king's leave. Judging by the way he was fidgeting atop the Iron Throne, Joff would willingly have granted it, but the day's work was far from done. For now the coin was turned over, and the captives were ushered in.

There were great lords and noble knights in that company too: sour old Lord Celtigar, the Red Crab; Ser Bonifer the Good; Lord Estermont, more ancient even than Celtigar; Lord Varner, who hobbled the length of the hall on a shattered knee, but would accept no help; Ser Mark Mullendore, grey-faced, his left arm gone to the elbow; fierce Red Ronnet of Griffin Roost; Ser Dermot of the Rainwood; Lord Willurn and his sons Josua and Elyas; Ser Jon Fossoway; Ser Timon the Scrapesword; Aurane, the bastard of Driftmark; Lord Staedmon, called Pennylover; hundreds of others.

Those who had changed their allegiance during the battle needed only to swear fealty to Joffrey, but the ones who had fought for Stannis until the bitter end were compelled to speak. Their words decided their fate. If they begged forgiveness for their treasons and promised to serve loyally henceforth, Joffrey welcomed them back into the king's peace and restored them to all their lands and rights. A handful remained defiant, however. "Do not imagine this is done, boy," warned one, the bastard son of some Florent or other. "The Lord of Light protects King Stannis, now and always. All your swords and all your scheming shall not save you when his hour comes."

"Your hour is come right now." Joffrey beckoned to Ser Ilyn Payne to take the man out and strike his head off. But no sooner had that one been dragged away than a knight of solemn mien with a fiery heart on his surcoat shouted out, "Stannis is the true king! A monster sits the Iron Throne, an abomination born of incest!"

"Be silent," Ser Kevan Lannister bellowed.

The knight raised his voice instead. "Joffrey is the black worm eating the heart of the realm! Darkness was his father, and death his mother! Destroy him before he corrupts you all! Destroy them all, queen whore and king worm, vile dwarf and whispering spider, the false flowers. Save yourselves!" One of the gold cloaks knocked the man off his feet, but he continued to shout. "The scouring fire will come! King Stannis will return! "

Joffrey lurched to his feet. "I'm king! Kill him! Kill him now! I command it." He chopped down with his hand, a furious, angry gesture . . . and screeched in pain when his arm brushed against one of the sharp metal fangs that surrounded him. The bright crimson samite of his sleeve turned a darker shade of red as his blood soaked through it. "Mother!" he wailed.

With every eye on the king, somehow the man on the floor wrested a spear away from one of the gold cloaks, and used it to push himself back to his feet. "The throne denies him!" he cried. "He is no king!"

Cersei was running toward the throne, but Lord Tywin remained still as stone. He had only to raise a finger, and Ser Meryn Trant moved forward with drawn sword. The end was quick and brutal. The gold cloaks seized the knight by the arms. "No king!" he cried again as Ser Meryn drove the point of his longsword through his chest.

Joff fell into his mother's arms. Three maesters came hurrying forward, to bundle him out through the king's door. Then everyone began talking at once. When the gold cloaks dragged off the dead man, he left a trail of bright blood across the stone floor. Lord Baelish stroked his beard while Varys whispered in his ear. Will they dismiss us now? Sansa wondered. A score of captives still waited, though whether to pledge fealty or shout curses, who could say?

Lord Tywin rose to his feet. "We continue," he said in a clear strong voice that silenced the murmurs. "Those who wish to ask pardon for their treasons may do so. We will have no more follies." He moved to the Iron Throne and there seated himself on a step, a mere three feet off the floor.

The light outside the windows was fading by the time the session drew to a close. Sansa felt limp with exhaustion as she made her way down from the gallery. She wondered how badly Joffrey had cut himself. They say the Iron Throne can be perilous cruel to those who were not meant to sit it.

Back in the safety of her own chambers, she hugged a pillow to her face to muffle a squeal of joy. Oh, gods be good, he did it, he put me aside in front of everyone. When a serving girl brought her supper, she almost kissed her. There was hot bread and fresh-churned butter, a thick beef soup, capon and carrots, and peaches in honey. Even the food tastes sweeter, she thought.

Come dark, she slipped into a cloak and left for the godswood. Ser Osmund Kettleblack was guarding the drawbridge in his white armor. Sansa tried her best to sound miserable as she bid him a good evening. From the way he leered at her, she was not sure she had been wholly convincing.

Dontos waited in the leafy moonlight. "Why so sadface?" Sansa asked him gaily. "You were there, you heard. Joff put me aside, he's done with me, he's . . . "

He took her hand. "Oh, Jonquil, my poor Jonquil, you do not understand. Done with you? They've scarcely begun."

Her heart sank. "What do you mean?"

"The queen will never let you go, never. You are too valuable a hostage. And Joffrey . . . sweetling, he is still king. If he wants you in his bed, he will have you, only now it will be bastards he plants in your womb instead of trueborn sons."

"No," Sansa said, shocked. "He let me go, he . . . "

Ser Dontos planted a slobbery kiss on her ear. "Be brave. I swore to see you home, and now I can. The day has been chosen."

"When?" Sansa asked. "When will we go?"

"The night of Joffrey's wedding. After the feast. All the necessary arrangements have been made. The Red Keep will be full of strangers. Half the court will be drunk and the other half will be helping Joffrey bed his bride. For a little while, you will be forgotten, and the confusion will be our friend."

"The wedding won't be for a moon's turn yet. Margaery Tyrell is at Highgarden, they've only now sent for her."

"You've waited so long, be patient awhile longer. Here, I have something for you." Ser Dontos fumbled in his pouch and drew out a silvery spiderweb, dangling it between his thick fingers. It was a hair net of fine-spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. "What stones are these?"

"Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight."

"It's very lovely," Sansa said, thinking, It is a ship I need, not a net for my hair.

"Lovelier than you know, sweet child. It's magic, you see. It's justice you hold. It's vengeance for your father." Dontos leaned close and kissed her again. "It's home."