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katerinaaqu · 4 months ago

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The Humanity of Odysseus and the Importance of the Curse of Polyphemus (an Odyssey Analysis on Fate and Destiny)

I believe there is one thig that needs to be said about the Odyssey and Odysseus in particular and something I have rarely seen properly adapted. It is the importance of the unchangable fate in antiquity in general and homeric poems in particular. One can say this starts from the character itself; Odysseus name meaning "Anger Bringer" or "Furious" is an indicator that not only the character will be dusliked by many but that he would also cause anger which one can expect would lead to terrible consequences. However I believe the moment Odysseus was truly deprived of all his choices was the infamous Curse of Polyphemus:

In Rhapsody/Book 9 of the Odyssey, Odysseus describes his misadventure with the cyclops Polyphemus and when he revealed himself to him, Polyphemus prays to his father, Poseidon, giving Odysseus a double-curse (as it happens to most predictions that have at least two ways they can go) which goes like this:

"I call upon you, Poseidon, Earth-bearer with cyan/black/dark hair, if I am your son and you wish to be my father (you wish to be called my father), do it for me so that Odysseus the Sacker of Cities will never reach his home, the son of Laertes who calls Ithaca his home, but if fate calls for him to see his friends and reach his well-built home and his ancestral land, make it so it will be terrible (here return), that he will lose all his companions and in a foreign ship and find misery waiting for him at his home!"

(Translation by me)

So as you can see the curse has two different outcomes

He will never see his home again

If he does, it will be without his companions brought by a foreign ship and he will find misery at his own home when he arrives

At this point, given that the story is "in media res" aka "told from the middle", we know now that the second part is fulfilled, or almost fulfilled. Odysseus is in Scheria, he is alone, he is shipwrecked, there is no sign of any of his companions anywhere so we expect him to return at this foreign ship, aka a Phaeacaean ship to his home at any moment. However by the moment the curse is placed, Odysseus doesn't know which outcome is to befall upon him. And while the second part is weirdly specific (and in a way preparing us for the outcome) the first one is not nearly speficic enough!

Make it so he never sees his land again.

This could mean anything; does he get killed in the ardous trip? Does he get straddled to a place for the rest of his life? Does he somehow lose his...memory and never return home again (similarly to how his men ate the Lotuses at the Lotophagi land)? What is more, nowhere in this part does it say his comrades will survive the ordeal. Although the curse means specifically for Odysseus not reaching his home and one could assume his men would but not Odysseus, that is not guaranteed.

Both of these scenarios are terribly gloom for both Odysseus and his men. So what does Odysseus do? He does what every human being would have done;

He tries to change fate!

He tries constantly to lift the curse:

Even if he knows deep down is pointless, even if he more or less has realized they are off for an arduous trip that will cost them probably all of them their lives, Odysseus STILL TRIES to change the fate! He sails off to find help. He goes to Aiolus and asks for help. He gets the bag. At this point Odysseus is at the end of his wits. He has a chance, he thinks, to change fate, to change the curse. He remains awake for 9 days to make sure he will (see also my other analysis in regards to that) and yet it is all in vain. His men open the bag JUST A LITTLE BEFORE they reach Ithaca and pushed back.

At this point it becomes all the more clear that they are up for an endless journey or a settlement away from home at best case scenario and all to die at worst case scenario. Odysseus doesn't give up! He asks AGAIN, this time he is denied.

And then comes destruction...

They reach the idland of the giant Laistrygonians and here Odysseus suffers the worst loss he has suffered so far; he loses 11 out of his 12 ships in a single raid and barely manages to escape with the rest of his comrades resting on his ship. Right now is clearer than ever that the curse is taking place so the real question is; which of the parts shall it be fulfulled? And they reach the land of Circe. Plenty of his men turn into pigs. Eurylochus barely escapes doom and runs at him to tell him "LEAVE THEM AND GO". Odysseus knows in his bones they are doomed! He knows he either leaves them and fulfulles the second prophecy (for his men already perish little by little) or either way the first part of the prophecy is fulfilled. What does Odysseus do?

He tries AGAIN!

He sells himself to Circe, he requests his men's freedom. He ASKS Circe for advice, he descends the Underworld, asks Tiresias for a course; how he can reach his home, how he can save his men, how he can REVERSE THE CURSE. Even if he knows it is impossible to challenge fate (not even Zeus could transcend fate). In a way he comits a form of hubris hoping to change fate. And yet he is HUMAN! He cannot accept that his men would die that he cannot go home. He wants to TRY! So sure enough he gets a possible way out...

Tiresias gives him hope...

The prophet tells him he can save his men AND reach Ithaca IF they do not eat the cattle of Helios Hyperion. What is more Circe gives him advice for the trip; the course they can follow, the steps they can take and again the warning of NOT eating the cattle of Helios. Odysseus takes heart to those, he DESPERATELY GRABS on them! He thinks he has a chance. Maybe...JUST MAYBE he can reverse this terrible curse! He can MAKE IT RIGHT! He has a chance to change fate! He has a chance to reverse it!

Self-Fulfilled Prophecy

Little does he know though that the trip is already set for failiure. Skylla claims 6 of his best men (his men CONTINUE TO PERISH) and yet Odysseus thinks that this is a sign that he can make it, that the terrible sacrifices will pay off and that he is on his way to break the curse. He is following the instructions therefore it must go well. And come the Cattle Of Helios Hyperion.

An attempt to dodge fate...

Odysseus tells to his men that they should not stop at the island now. He is not ready to take another risk. He will not do the same as the sack of Aiolus. He wants to AVOID THE ISLE ALTOGETHER. If his men are not tepted, they will not break. He intends to keep going and it could have worked...but...

Sure enough his men are tired they need to stop

Odysseus has no choice. At this point he probably realizes there is no way to change fate. He sees it now that everything is up for destruction and he still doesn't know WHICH VERSION will be fulfulled! And even if every part of his brain tells him everything is lost Odysseus REFUSES TO GIVE UP! No, this cannot be the end! There must still be time and space to reverse it!

He makes them promise

Odysseus makes his men swear to everything sacred that no matter what they shall not touch the cattle. That they would survive only with the provisions given by Circe, that they will not be tempted no matter what. Sure enough he extracts the promise from them but of course the prophecy is now moving. Wind is opposite. There is no way they can go. They get straddled for WEEKS. Food is over. Odysseus sees the path is for destruction and yet...

HE TRIES AGAIN!

He goes to the island to pray! There MUST be another way! The gods can hear him...maybe pity him and release them from this! And yet he falls asleep from fatigue, stress and godly intervention. Now the clock is ticking! His men cannot withstand hunger anymore and slay the cattle. Now their fate is shielded. We now know they will die. We know also which part of the prophecy will be fulfulled; Odysseus will come home ALONE, just like we see him narrating alone (even if we might as well wonder whether Odysseus would remain in Scheria, it is pretty much settled that Odysseus returns to Ithaca). However Odysseus doesn't know...but what he fears the most has happened

One last desperate attempt.

Odysseus is human above all. He sees the slain animals, he KNOWS his men will die and even that time he REFUSES to accept it! He REFUSES to give up! He sets sail again, hoping to save them, to save them all (himself included) as they roam for 7 days in the sea

And doom strikes...

His men all perish, his ship is gone! Odysseus is left alone in the sea, fighting for 10 days to the brief of death. Right now Odysseus is no longer struggling to change fate...he is no longer struggling to save anyone but himself...he is struggling

...SO THAT AT LEAST THE FATE IN STORE FOR HIM IS HIS RETURN...

He now has suffered the ultimate loss. He needs to at least make it home! Even if that means without companions, even if that means to be home in misery...he just HAS TO GO HOME! He cannot just perish in the sea or be forever straddled outside Ithaca! And then Calypso happens. Odysseus is left in her isle for 7 years.

He now fears he will never see his home again

He cries every day on the beach. His rape every night is strong enough reason for him to do so but also the fact that he now FEARS that the first section of the prophecy is fullfilled; that he is never to see his home and friends and family again. That his fate was not to perish in the sea but to be forever held against his will away from his beloved home and family. And he is filled with despair. When he has lost all hope that he will ever roam about the sea again; with at least SOME HOPE that the second part of the curse would be fulfilled, he is ready to throw himself in the sea; give an end to his life since there is no point in hoping anymore. The worst scenario has happened for him. He has nothing else to expect...

And it is so...till Hermes brings the order to release him. Now Odysseus finds hope anew that he will return. And he struggles with all his might to survive! Even if he is days out in the sea in a small raft. Even when his raft is destroyed and he has to literally swim to Scheria. his mind goes "NO! I WILL NOT PERISH! I WILL GO HOME!" and sure enough he does and he does meet his friends again and he does find this misery at his home and yet now Odysseus can endure this misery, because he knows he managed to get home and he knows that he has left but ONE TASK according to Tiresias.

He tried to beat fate and he failed...but now he has hope...

So as you see, and forgive me for the long analysis, Odysseus is more human than anyone can imagine and always relatable character. Despite his flaws and mistakes one of the noblest mistakes he made was to think he could change fate and dedicate a large part of his trip trying to do just that; change the curse and save his companions which only ends up to a self-fulfilled prophecy but I doubt anyone can deny that we would all have done the same. I doubt any of us would just abandon all hope and sit tight waiting for the prophecy to be filled either way. He would all have tried to change such a grim outcome!

Because we are human. And so was Odysseus.

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nightdivinity · 9 months ago

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Drink Responsibly: Chapter 2

ABO!Vampire!Batfam x reader

Minors! Do! Not! Engage! +18 only!

Platonic!Alfred, Bruce x reader, Possessive! Batboys x reader

Warnings: Bad life choices, possessive behavior, a/b/o, they're vampires, loooong age gaps, no proofreading, we die like men, reverse harem. This is getting sexual. I’m sorry.

Writer's Note: I live, I die, I live again. I’m trying to keep an even pace when publishing, I promise. It’s just that finals week knocked me on my ass. I’ve basically got to prepare week 9 and 10 before it. Graduation is also right around the corner. Besides school and work though, this has also been my only focus. Also, sorry to everyone who reached out. I promise I’m not ignoring the kind messages and everything. I just keep forgetting. I’m so sorry. I’ll try to do better. Also got to write a bio and start publishing the other things I’ve been cooking up. This series is still a top priority though. I’m going to be more consistent from here on out.

When you finally make it back to the manor after a day of detours and horrible karaoke that makes your insides warm and fuzzy, Duke doesn’t let you open your own door. All the being nice was making you itch, and you kind of were missing being a strong independent person. It’s also not that you didn’t give it the good old college try, desperately jiggling the handle to open the door that he child locked as you look out the window in disbelief as he laughed his ass off outside your door.

To get back at him, the both of you ensued the pettiest game of unlocking and locking the doors. You, holding the door closed when he unlocked it and tried to pull it open, and scrambling to the driver’s seat to keep that door closed as well. Would it be bad if you admitted you liked the way his smug pretty face grew determined and slightly irritated? Never mind the dimples, the tick in his sharp jaw had your mind skipping a beat.

It was all fun and games until Alfred, who undoubtedly was watching you from the window, opened the other door just as you held yours shut and taunted Duke. “Can’t even open a wittle omega’s door?”

You’ll never forget the feral boyish smile he gave before sliding over the moving van’s hood and gently pushing Alfred out of the way.

His big frame wedged the door open letting wind into the cabin with enough pheromones to make your eyes water. In a panic you start trying to move away from him as far as possible. Cue, Alfred opening the other door your back was against, and you almost tumbling out.

“(L/N)? Just what on earth are you doing?”, Alfred questioned.

You stare up at the old Beta and your savior. His gloved hand on your back keeping your from tumbling out of the truck cab and busting your head on the gravel. Something all three men on the property were undoubtedly worried about as they watched you dangle too close to the ground. Not that you ever saw the curtain drawing closed from the third story. All you saw was help. Because surely Duke would knock it off with Alfred here.

“I’m poking the bear”, you tell him.

A large mitt, exactly like a bear’s, wraps around your ankle and tugs you out of Alfred’s hands and towards the open car door with a slightly pissed alpha waiting. Oh no. New employment be damned, you are not going out like this.

You scramble for purchase as your dragged across the leather seat. Your fingers digging into the crevice between the driver’s side and middle cushion for dear life. Desperately you try to shake Duke’s fingers off your one good ankle.

“(Y/N), get out of the car. You’re probably hurting yourself right now while doing this”, Duke warns.

There was an unspoken “Are you stupid?” that hung in the air. With Alfred here, the big, dimpled grin has disappeared, giving way to grim determination as Duke looked as though he was five seconds away from peeling the truck’s metal frame apart just to get at you better. You didn’t know what to do, it was better when you two were playing. The air was lighter, and you could breathe and believe he had best intentions at heart. Now you couldn’t keep playing, because he seems to be getting angrier every defiant second you spend clinging to cushions. Which made you want to burrow under the seats even more, away, and safe from the anger.

What you hadn’t noticed was how his anger started the second Alfred intervened. It’s not your fault, a lot has been happening and pissed-off Alphas take priority. The old man did though, and backed the adequate amount of steps away after ensuring you would not tumble out of the cab. If it wasn’t for the promise he made to Bruce to chaperone, and to you when he hired you, Alfred would have taken up the offer the others had given him. A nice vacation, the first he would have taken, just to give you and the rest space to figure each other out. Based on the messages from the family’s missing members, it would have been smart to leave Gotham. Or the continent.

“Don’t tell me what to do” you say.

“Get out of the truck”, Duke replies.

“No. Fuck off. I’m grown up, I can get out if I want.”

“I’m seriously running out of patience (y/n)”

“Good. Leave me alone Duke.”

“Terrible things are about to happen to you.”, Duke warns.

You squint at him and stick your tongue out at him. You know he’s just full of shit and would never do anything to actually hurt you. Nor would he allow you to be in any real danger. He’s got a trick up his sleeve and the muscles in your stretched leg were taut, waiting for release so you can roll and limp away to safety.

There was hardly anytime for you to plan your next step before Duke wrapped his hand around your ankle and starts untying your sneaker.

“Don’t”, you squeal.

He ignores you and gives you another bright smile full of sunshine and mischief. Dear God, he was going to kill you with that look on his face. Totally disarming and distracting as you barely register the shoe and sock getting tugged off.

“I mean it Duke! I give up! Look, see? I’m letting go!”, you beg.

You unclench your fingers and start waving your hands in his face. Trying like hell to sit up and defend yourself. Unfortunately, the hood on your hoodie was caught on the seatbelt latch in the cushion. Preventing you rolling farther away or sitting up and smushing his face away with your freed hands.

“I will never forgive you”, you solemnly vow.

“Yes, you will, look at your face, you’re smiling. You’ve already forgiven me.”

“They stink, I haven’t changed my socks in five days.”

“That’s another lie, I know for a fact that your laundry has been washed.”

“And that’s weird. We’re going to revisit that later though. Let my foot go. I also haven’t taken a shower yet; I ran a five K this morning.”

“In what? Your dreams? You know, I think we should go back to begging.”

You give an enraged shriek that devolves into panicked laugh as he starts torturing every available space on your foot. It was not an enjoyable experience. You were scrambling and flailing to get away but couldn’t since he seemed to have super strength. He also barely swatted your thick cast covered foot you tried to jam in his face. Tears start leaking out the corners of your eyes as you giggle and beg and plead for him to release you. Not that he listened to any of it. He seemed perfectly happy watching you writhe.

The merriment came to about as abrupt and end as it started as a sleek black muscle car growled into the driveway. Duke dropped your ankle and crawled into the truck cab with you. As defective an Omega as you were, you still picked up on the spike of adrenaline and what you thought was panic although it was smothered by anger. You scrunch your nose at the onslaught of pheromones that made you want to bump up and rub against him and soothe in any way you could. Because no. You’re not that kind of Omega.

“Duke?”, you ask.

He must have picked up on the nervous twitching from you. Or the tell-tale patter of your little heart trying to produce enough pheromones to get you out of this situation. Enough to tell the Alpha that’s laying on top of you, tantalizingly close, so close you could hear the clack that the wooden beads in his dreads made as he pressed flush against you. I’m in danger, help me. Is what should have been leaking out of every pore. Yet, you were broken.

“Shh, don’t let him see you.”, Duke says.

That didn’t help the matter. Especially when Duke used his freakishly long limbs to pull both sets of doors closed as quietly as possible. What was happening? Was someone trying to attack Bruce Wayne, billionaire-philanthropist and notorious Alpha who also seems to be in close contact with the most frightening infected Alpha in the country. Merely the thought of the shadow you often saw cast on buildings as dominance battles were fought all over in the different Gotham territories was enough to make you shake. You never saw Batman. No one whoever truly interacts with him lives to tell the tales. So just what is Bruce Wayne that he seems to be in an alliance with such a monster?

“Bruce! Get out here you chicken-shit piss-poor excuse of a sire”, a booming voice shout outside.

A seismic level shockwave rocked through you, and you couldn’t suppress the litany of whines that escaped as you dug your claws into duke’s yellow and black muscle shirt. It was embarrassing, you felt like a pup again.

In all your years you had never come anywhere close to that amount of dominance that was coming out in waves that even rattled the windows. Whoever this was, he was bad news. Even Duke knew it.

Duke’s eyes were flashing gold in the sudden darkness of the cab. You were once again struck by the oddity, but this world is full of strange things. To be fair, you were mostly preoccupied with other things, and you had a feeling that if you started digging into what was going on at the place you were hired then you would truly fall down the rabbit hole.

“Stop moving”, Duke whispers.

His hand wraps around one of your wrists that you had thrown up against his chest. Just for a little breathing room, rather than being pressed face first in a scent gland that would have you dry humping everything in sight. Despite the abject terror at the situation unfolding outside.

“Where do you get off siccing Dick on me in the middle of a meeting?”, the man demands.

You didn’t hear the heavy manor door creaking open. So you had no idea just who this man was talking to. During the struggle with Duke earlier and the tickle fight, you didn’t see Alfred. You doubt the man stuck around during the shenanigans. Which begs the question. Just who was he talking to?

“Really? The silent treatment. You really are too scared to face me huh?”, the unknown man says.

Oh no. That sounded right outside your moving truck. No, nonononononono. You could feel the anger coming off him as it made your teeth chatter.

Your worst fear came true as the driver’s side door, above your head, was ripped open. No. It was ripped off the truck cab in a screech of metal that had you cringing and trying to burrow farther into Duke away from it. You were still stuck on the damn seatbelt thing that was jammed into the back of your neck. All you could do was look up and try not to burst into tears.

Because the man who just opened your door was death. You were teetering between pissing yourself from fear, and trying to control the inappropriate lust that was starting to ride you hard. Because damn. That voice, that dominance, paired with that attitude and face. My God, it’s like he was made perfectly for you. Or any Omega really. A fact that was cemented when the stern bluish-grey eyes that stare down at you flash a crimson red. Sploosh. You seriously needed to get your head checked.

“(Y/N)?”, mystery man says.

“How do you know my name?”

“Bruce told us he got you. Shit. I thought he was just pulling his usual shit”, he swears.

You were about to question who he was and what all was going on, but Duke beat you to it.

“(Y/N) this is Jason. I’m sorry, I didn’t think he would ever come back home. Speaking of what are you doing here Jason?”, Duke says.

Jason straightens, his eyes flashing another dangerous candy apple red color that brought another bout of hot oozing warmth where it definitely didn’t need to be. Not that you needed to worry about it. Like you said, you were broken. Although you couldn’t help but wonder if being by lethal amounts of Alpha fueled testosterone would kick your damaged hardware into gear. Food for thought at a later time.

“I have just as much of a right to be here, if you checked your phone you would know what was going on. Bruce… interfered with a business interaction of mine when I refused to come back to the Manor.”

“So you decided to just go ahead and give him what he wants, really Jay?”

“No. I’m going to kill him. First though, get off of her.”

The callous way he mentioned killing your employer was chilling you to the bone. You bet he could do it to. From the heavily muscled frame that was subtly flexing, his old brown leather jacket creaking as it strained. He took to cracking his knuckles as he stared down at you both. Too make matters worse, there was a small scar that twisted the left side of his face in a permanent smirk as it ran up from the corner of his slips, across his high cheekbones, and disappeared above his ear and into that thick black hair. Hair that contained a curious white streak that made you want to take a closer look. Not that you would. You were smart. Everything about this man shouted danger.

While Duke was massive in his own right, Jason looked as though he could rip linebackers in half for funsies. You believe that those thick corded thighs that your eyes had zeroed in on, the ones that his frayed jeans were struggling to contain, those are rugby thighs. Once again, it’s not your fault, you were born to be this pervy to those of the Alpha secondary gender category. Just like Deltas were made for Betas. This is all evolution's fault that you wanted to climb a psycho killer like a tree and purr. Ooooh, maybe you could get Duke to wear a firema- nope. Annnnnd you’re done. You seriously need to focus if you’re going to somehow finesse your way out of this situation.

“What are you going to do? Make me?” Duke says.

You almost think he’s teasing Jason, then you hear the bite of a challenge to an invading Alpha. Dear God, it’s almost like you’re a kid on the playground again. This was so not fun nor was it sexy. Especially with you sitting so close to the crossfire.

“I said, get off.”, Jason start growling.

Oh good, now we’re slowly becoming dogs. This is great. Totally not borderline psychotic in any way.

“You didn’t want to come back, so you don’t get to have her. Back off Jay.”, Duke warns.

“No one here gets to judge me; you know the reason why the family is so broken is sitting up there. Plotting. If I had known- well- doesn’t matter. Get off before I rip you to pieces. I might till do it, send a fun little message to our psycho father by spreading his precious new pet’s blood all over the front steps.”

“Isn’t that what Dick said to you when you met?”

“Say his name again and I will make good on my promise.”

“Can I just say one thing?”, you ask.

The tension was getting so thick you could cut it with a cheap plastic spork. Honestly, you suspect they could’ve just kept going all night if they had to with the witty one-liners. You were getting tired though, and all this negativity was not good for your heart.

“Hon, not right now, I’m winning.”, Duke tries to shush you.

First of all, how dare he shush you. You had just as much of a right to talk as they did. Duke is different from most Alpha’s you’ve met. The silent prejudice was still hanging in that back of your mind though. Omegas are useless without Alphas. So be a good little one and sit there and be pretty. Don’t ever think of talking. You know he’s not like all the other assholes you’ve encountered. What he just said though started ringing those little alarms that told you he might be though.

“No, you’re not.”, you pause and notice the slight smirk across Jason’s scarred face, “Neither of you are. Can I please get up and get my boxes in while you two have your pissing match?”

Jason lets out a surprised bark, and you give him brownie points for keeping his mouth shut besides that.

“I’ll let you up, once he goes inside.”, Duke tells you.

“No. I want to get up now.”, you say.

Duke’s next response gets cut off as you watch Jason reach over you and grab Duke’s dreads. There was a slight struggle, but the comforting weight of Duke’s body between your thighs is gone within seconds. You almost miss it. You almost feel bad when you finally wrench your hoodie free and look out the truck door and see Duke on the ground with Jason’s hand around his throat. It was ok. You can tell no real weight was being put behind it. It was just one Alpha gently reminding a younger one to submit. You’ve seen this shit all the time.

You also weren’t going to lie; the dominance was definitely starting to rev your engines.

“Please don’t kill him, I need his help with the boxes and my wheelchair”, you call out.

Jason turns to look at you, the red in his eyes damning as he stares into you. Oooh. You can have a lot of fun with that. Maybe you can ask him to pretend to be your sleep paralysis demon that has his wicked way with yo- nope. No roleplaying. No playing with these Alphas in any sexual manner. You need money and a place to stay, and while sex is nice, everyone always moves on to more compelling Omegas that aren’t broken. Besides, you’re pretty sure these Alphas don’t know their strength. Nope, you’re good without all the heartbreak and hospital visits if you go down that route.

“Boxes?”, Jay asks.

“Yeah, I’m moving in, didn’t anyone tell you?”, you ask him.

“No. They just told me- nothing. I’ll help, you don’t need shit-for-brains”, Jay says.

He gets up, slightly pushing Duke’s face to the side and into the muddy wet gravel. You can’t help but wince and give Duke a sympathetic look. Not that he was paying you any mind. His lovely brown eyes were now a liquid gold that screamed revenge. You just pray that he can hold off long enough to get your wheelchair from the back.

“What- what happened to her?”, Jay asks.

“Motherfu- get my chair”, you boss.

“She got chewed on at one of Cobblepot’s clubs”, Duke tells him.

“Shit, none of the others know huh.”, Jason sighs.

He runs his hands through his hair, and you’re stuck looking at it again. It looked fluffy and silky. Of course, it would put you in a trance, the same as the wood beads in Duke’s dreads. You might actually have a thing for hair now that you thought about it.

“No, we’ll have a war when they do.”, Duke replies cheerfully.

“Why?”, you ask. You were genuinely confused as they kept talking circles around you.

“Don’t worry about it Hon. Let’s get you inside”, Duke groans as he gets up from the dirt.

Jason reaches in and lightly grabs your good wrist as he pulls you out. You willingly let him, marveling at that the body made from the gods. Would it be bad if you reached around and gently pinched his ass? It’s just curiosity. So much muscle, how much fat?

Duke looks slightly peeved when he grabs the chair from the back and notices you in Jason’s arms. You couldn’t help but give him a slight smug wave from the safety of King Kong’s arms.

“I like the bell, maybe we should find some streamers for the back too. There’s no way she’ll get lost.”

And just like that, you lost it as Giant 1 and 2 dissolved in a fit of giggles. I’m going to kill them. Hopefully before your hormones and pheromones killed you first. Because damn it, you did seize the opportunity to smack the ass of the jack ass.

That ass is not only iconic and slightly hard, but it jiggled a little too. This is going to be so much fun living here.

#abo batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yeaaaaaaah it's getting yandere #vamp!batfam #chapter 3 is written #I just need to make the bio and post headcannons first #hopefully before spring semester starts #also been playing arkham knights #been a big inspiration to me a little with this story

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overthinkinglotr · 2 years ago

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I was watching LOTR with friends the other day and someone pointed out that a major reason film!Elrond is upset about Arwen being in love with Aragorn is because of Elrond's own broken relationship with Isildur.

In the films Isildur and Elrond are kind of set up as....a broken failed parallel to Aragorn and Arwen?

Arwen reassures Aragorn that "he is Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself," and "is not bound to his fate"-- but Elrond disagrees, confident that Aragorn will be just like Isildur.

Film!Elrond is so certain that trusting in mankind is a mistake that will only lead Arwen to misery because he once trusted in mankind, and the man he trusted ended up failing him. His ally from the line of Elendil ended up falling to the power of the Ring and dying; he believes Aragorn may do the same thing. He doesn't just want to save Arwen's life and keep his daughter by his side; he wants to prevent Arwen from experiencing the same betrayal/heartbreak he experienced. Film!Elrond is very stoic and unsentimental, but there are all these hints at Elrond and Isildur's past relationship throughout the series. Everyone likes to make the joke "why didn't Elrond just toss Isildur into the fire?" but to me the answer is, partially, because he cared about Isildur. They were allies who fought side-by-side. After describing what happened in Mount Doom all those years ago, Elrond tells Gandalf that "It should've ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure." And I think it's interesting that he goes into passive voice for a moment, instead of saying that Isildur specifically allowed to evil to endure--because he's also blaming himself for allowing evil to endure, blaming his own failure to be harsh with Isildur and take the Ring from him by force. He's regretting that he was merciful and didn't "just toss Isildur into the fire."

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His complicated emotions about Isildur also appear again in the Two Towers. After insisting that Arwen needs to give up Aragorn as a lost cause and travel into the West, Elrond has a conversation with Galadriel where she guilt-trips him for abandoning Middle Earth/mankind. When she asks him "do we let them stand alone?" Elrond walks into the study, and spends a long moment looking at his mural of Isildur.

He then, in the film's canon, agrees to send military support to one of Isildur's descendants."I don't care about Isildur anymore, men are weak," Elrond says, standing in front of his elaborate mural of Isildur and his shrine dedicated to Isildur's sword.

And yes this is all, again, a drastic departure from his characterization in the book-- most of the Aragorn-Arwen-Elrond stuff in the films is a drastic departure from the book. The films radically alter their dynamics, including eliminating stuff like Elrond being Aragorn's adopted father and all the "their bloodlines are related" stuff and etc etc etc etc etc. But honestly, now that I see it, this interpretation makes the film!Elrond-Arwen dynamic engaging in a way I hadn't recognized before? In some ways it puts Isildur into the role that Elrond's mortal brother Elros played for him in the books, because Elros is cut from the films entirely. Isildur is the reason film!Elrond knows what it's like to have some kind of close relationship with a mortal and then watch them die. When Elrond angrily speaks about the folly of trusting men, or insists to Arwen that Aragorn "is not coming back" so she should just get over him, he's speaking from experience--he's projecting his own weird failed broken betrayal-ridden Thing with Isildur onto Arwen and Aragorn. And in this context, his hopeless monologue about how Arwen will regret staying by Aragorn's side also feels like it's partially from his own experience. "If Sauron is defeated, and Aragorn is made king, and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality." When he fought three thousand years ago Sauron was defeated, and Isildur did become King, and yet... TL;DR : Film!Elrond had a nasty kind-of breakup with a mortal man 3000 years ago and instead of dealing with it he decided "Men Are trash Weak" and began projecting all of his drama onto Arwen

#overthinkinglotr #lotr #XD #I like book!Elrond better in theory #but to understand elrond better id have to reread the s*lmarillion #sorry #no #X #also Im so glad the films cut all stuff about Aragorn/Arwen/Elrond being related #and all the Elrond being Aragorn's foster father stuff #I don't like it #hot take unpopular opinoin #alskdjfsdf #there are some things i wish the films hadn't cut but those aren't them #Youtube

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crazyaboutto · 2 days ago

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I was thinking how these scenes felt familiar and I'm just Ken edit I either dreamed or watched

Sauron is Saurenough

Since "I'm just Halbrand" song of Sauron is dedicated to Galadriel:

If you think about it, Sauron (Ken) wanted to turn Middle Earth (Barbieland) into his kingdom (Kendom Land of the free and the men).

Sauron (Ken) has been proposing Galadriel (Barbie) and getting rejected. He is always number two for her (#1 in her mind but #2 for choosing between him and light).

Sauron is a 10 anywhere else and it's his destiny to live and die a life of blonde fragility. Though we won't know his #NewHairNewMe era before he loses his physical form but for now he's blondie.

It will take a lot for her to see the maia behind the unhinged actions and fight for him.

The next part is so Sauron coded:

I wanna know what it's like to love, to be the real thing Is it a crime? Am I not hot when I'm in my feelings? And is my moment finally here, or am I dreaming? I'm no dreamer

I had this epiphany as I edited it and here two crack posters:

Below cut are my other edits for Galadbie and Sauken

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heartlilith · 1 year ago

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Drunk Confessional (Personal Astrology Observations)

Here are some of my observations and opinions on various placements while sipping on some dranks ;)))

🍻My Sun, Venus, and Mars are in my 8th house using Whole Sign System and using Placidus I have Moon and Venus in the 8th house. Any other 8th housers especially attracted to what others deem creepy/weird/dangerous? Whether it's people, topics of conversation, music taste, or superstitions. When I talk to my boyfriend about what happens after we die, he WON'T hear it. I got an Ouija board for Christmas one year and he wouldn't summon demons with me :( he's so scared lmfaooo. Also, my boyfriend has been to jail, has face tattoos, and is the embodiment of controversial. Any other 8th housers relate? No? Okay.

🍻Going off of ^^^. I met this girl one time at a ... facility ... and she went by the name Lilith; she's instagram famous, goth, loves witch shit, she's a satanist and basically she was everything that people side eyed. When I tell you I LOVED THIS GIRL. I wish we kept in contact, I swear I had heart eyes and I'm straight af. She was so intriguing and we became such good friends... I miss her. She was an Aries Sun, Aries Moon, Scorpio Rising. The coolest chick.

🍻I have 12th Pluto and Chiron (whole sign) and in the 11th house (Placidus) and I ghost everyone. Most times it's unintentional. Due to some issues at home, I up and left my hometown in the middle of the night to live with my boyfriend a couple states away and the next day my friends were like "Wtf? Where are you?".

🍻Guys I am the queen of running away when things get hard. Even when I was young. I'm not really sure what would indicate this? Maybe Uranus/Neptune in the 1st? 12th house Sagittarius? No clue. I'm a master escapist physcially, mentally, substance-ly ;).

🍻I have never had a "dream job" (Sun and Neptune square MC). All I know is I will be rich. I know it in my heart. I fucking better be.

🍻Actually ^ not true I wanted to be an Astronaut when I was like 5. URANUS IN THE 1ST... I am one with the aliens. This works for Aquarius rising, Uranus/Aquarius Dominant.

🍻Capricorn Rising/Saturn in the 5th house here and for all of you that claim prominent Capricorn placements are boring... let me tell you something... we are busy getting rich so fuck you

🍻I think prominent Earth placements (esp Cap), it's not the materialism that comes with being rich that we want... its the security. Like if life goes wrong in anyway, at least we have the resources to somehow make it better. It's a security blanket. I'd rather be crying in a mansion than crying in a shack. ALSO, most of us know what it's like to grow up poor or below the middle class line.

🍻So my placements - Lilith in the 1st house especially. I'm always reading posts about being sexually wanted or some version of that. Let me tell you I wear sweatpants and sweatshirts most of the time. That profile pic over there? Yeah I don't look like that most days. I feel like since this placement gets sexualized a lot and gets exposed sexually at a young age ... it results in this. Male attention? I used to need that, now I hate men (at least most of them). Scorpio MC and Lilith in Capricorn too.

🍻Scorpio MC - yes I want to be feared. I want to hold power over people that makes them think twice about fucking with me. But not feared in a way that they think I'm mean or rude... feared as in powerful, like a boss type of way. In reality, I run from confrontation and am too scared to stick up for myself but WE ARE WORKING ON IT. Check back in 10 years. I feel like Sun/Lilith in the 10th house, prominent Capricorn placements, prominent Scorpio placements, Aries placements, and Leo placements feel this too.

🍻I have Mars in the 7th house and in terms of romantic relationships, yes I am the problem.

🍻Aries in the 3rd house and the only person I've physcially fought is my sister. I beat the hoe.

🍻MY SISTER ... OK, HOLD ON NOW. SIT DOWN FOR THIS ONE. Let me know WHY this girl is a Taurus Sun, Taurus Moon, Aries Mercury, Taurus Venus, Virgo Mars... (I think her rising is Virgo but not confirmed) ... she goes into work one day, 2 hours late cause she overslept and when her boss confronted her she said "I don't believe in the concept of time" WTF. This is the only thing that makes me doubt astrology. Just kidding, I guess its all the Taurus but ??? Still I'm confused.

🍻Since she was Earth dominant ^, she never had to study for tests in school. She had an almost perfect average and never studied. Meanwhile my ADHD ass (Moon square Jupiter, Sun/Mars (3rd house ruler) opposition Neptune, Neptune in the 1st, Sun opposition Uranus) struggled with a 2.8 in high school.

🍻My mom is a Taurus Sun Libra Moon and my dad is a Scorpio Sun Sagittarius Moon. They aren't together anymore, but when I tell you they're children in old people bodies... me and my parents are more like friends if anything. I was never grounded, never in trouble for what other people my age were in trouble for, and my friends liked them more than me I swear.

🍻Having a lot of Leo in the chart mixed with a healthy scoop of Cancer may make someone kind of dramatic... but it's how I really feel guys ok? Yes, the fact that I have to wake up tomorrow at 8am is sending me rn. Off a ledge. Into a river. Never to return. I would rather eat dirt.

🍻12th house profection year and I never want to go to bed. I never want the day to end. Sleep is a bummer right now. Even when I do sleep I wake up like 100 times. Mostly cause my cat needs pets and who am I to deny him?

🍻ANYONE WITH AN EARTH MOON, ESPECIALLY VIRGO LIKE ME OR 6TH HOUSE. Get a pet. Get one. They rely on you and need you and love you to death. Someone/something NEEDING an Earth/Virgo Moon?! A dream. I love to be needed. I have a dog (1 year) and two kitties (7 months)... they are my literal children that I birthed.

🍻My boyfriend is a Cancer Sun, Aquarius Moon, Leo Mercury & Venus, and Libra Mars... I would pay money to see the female version of him. He's such a brat. BUT he is so fun to be around and is my best friend. His moon is in my 1st house, Sun in my 7th, Venus in my 8th and Mars in my 9th.

🍻Speaking of Aquarius Moon... I've met people with this moon sign and all of them have a detached sense of family in some way or another. Whether they don't have a close relationship with them or they're super independent. My boyfriend was adopted!

That's all for tonight folks xoxo

If I offended you in anyway, no I didn't.

#astrology #astro observations #astrology community #astro #astro community #sagittarius #leo #rising signs #scorpio #cancer #sun signs #astrology observations

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roprot · 2 months ago

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I'm a little confused by some people expecting realistic outcomes and wear and tear out of RoP — and then calling it lazy writing and cheap props. GoT was formative and introduced a lot of people into the genre, creating a standard for big-budget fantasy TV. But that show, and HotD, are basically gritty faux period dramas with fantasy elements. Over-the-top things come across as silly since we've been taught the rules of the story. Characters die like we might. Things rarely turn out well. No, a Galadriel in Westeros would have no reason to jump off a ship. Two major characters wouldn't meet in the middle of the ocean. An expedition force would not arrive in the nick of time to save a no-name village if we hadn't seen them trudge in mud for at least half a season and lose a quarter of their men to mutiny and fever. ...but RoP is set in Middle-earth.

To me, Tolkien has always been far gentler, far more mythical. Unlikely things happen for a reason. Heroes overcome great danger. People believe lies and make decisions based on vibes. Even with horror elements and death, there are songs and poems and hope.

(And yes, elves and humans wear clean clothes given the option. (And Míriel's 'printed armor' is a fancy fabric in the style of her armor THINK, MAN, THINK. (Though I do not like their make-up in general.)))

Picking RoP apart as if it was meant to be hyper-realistic drama for a strictly Western audience — by which I mean, kind of understated — is a bummer move. By failing to understand the tone you do yourself and the show a major disservice.

#this has been a psa #the rings of power #rings of power #trop #lotr #and i like all three shows #high fantasy #media literacy #random rant

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 7 months ago

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I'm still thinking about banner bearers as I continue working on my Obscure Blorbo Guthláf story, and I do find it impressive how much context about the banner bearer role Tolkien shoved into LOTR in barely half a dozen sentences' worth of small references.

For starters, there are (by my count) 3 acknowledged banner bearers in Lord of the Rings: Halbarad of the rangers of the North, Guthláf of Rohan (♥️), and an unnamed Haradrim standard bearer. I reject the distinction Tolkien made between so-called high, middle and low Men, but it is notable nonetheless that he created a banner bearer character from each of these 3 groups. That shows how universally important the function was, at least to communities of Men, just as it was extremely common in the real world for many hundreds of years of human history. All kinds of Middle Earth's Men have them, no matter how different the Men are from one another.

In addition, all 3 of the banner bearer characters die at the Pelennor Fields, which effectively illustrates how incredibly dangerous a job it was, both in Middle Earth and real life. Given how intentional Tolkien is about everything, I think it's fair to assume that he purposefully killed all of them in recognition of the realities of ancient warfare. (The only banner bearer I can think of in any Tolkien book that survives their war is Eönwë in the Silmarillion, but he's an immortal Maia so...TOTALLY different circumstances.)

And finally, Tolkien shows us how significant the loss of a banner bearer was to both sides in a battle. When Théoden kills the unnamed Haradrim standard bearer (just before the Witch King rolls up), that's the moment when the forces of Harad founder and start to flee because they've lost their rallying point and their source of morale. They can't function without their banner bearer. On the opposite side, Théoden cites his felling of the black serpent flag to Merry as one of the singular achievements that will allow him to sit proudly alongside his ancestors in the afterlife, so he clearly also understands taking out a banner bearer to be a massive battle achievement.

We don't witness Halbarad or Guthláf’s final moments, but their deaths are just as significant. Out of the untold numbers of dead at the Pelennor Fields, they are both in the small handful of names to be recorded in the story because they were important and their deaths meant something to the broader battle. And we see in the immediate aftermath of Guthláf’s death what a huge deal it is to the Rohirrim—they stop to address his death and retrieve his banner so that it can be borne by another before they even take the time to tend to their mortally wounded king. Those are the actions of people who understand how strategically important a banner bearer is above almost all other battlefield functions.

I'm not trying to say Guthláf is more important than Théoden* but I am saying that Tolkien really demonstrated, through a handful of very economical little actions and asides and unremarked-upon events, how critical people like Guthláf were, as well as how ridiculously brave and selfless. And more than anything else, I guess I’m saying that now, as I approach 27,000 words about Guthláf in my Google docs, he’s…on my mind a lot.

*At this point, I would absolutely say this for myself. In my heart, there's no contest and it's Guthláf forever. But I know that’s because he’s my special li’l guy and I don’t expect that of anyone else!

#lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #banner bearers #halbarad #guthlaf #guthláf #poor unnamed haradrim #banner bearers of middle earth #niche interests

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dfwbwfbbwfbwf · 14 days ago

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I refuse to believe the Valar wouldn't have fought Morgoth without the Silmaril.

(There's a TLDR at the end.)

.... Not really Valar friendly, but not anti Valar either. Valar critical, but still more on their side than not.

I have many, MANY issues with how the Valar handled a lot of things - Finwë's remarriage, stepping over Finwë's authority as king, basically letting Morgoth go after his false repentance was revealed, basically letting Morgoth go because he crossed the Helcaraxë, the Silmarils, refusing to go after Morgoth when Fëanáro made it clear he would never give them his Silmarils, etc. - but I don't think they're malicious enough to hold back their help by the time Eärendil arrived.

When the Darkening happened, the Valar were ... naive is probably the best word I can use to describe it. And petty - they are absolutely petty, especially Yavanna and Tulkas. "Oh, the Noldor don't want anything to do with us? Well, we WON'T help! How about that? And don't call back because we won't even answer the phone!" Then Manwë sat by the metaphorical phone wondering sadly why they wouldn't call. :(

.... I have honestly no idea why they didn't go fight Morgoth to begin with - they could've evacuated everyone out of the area like they did in the War of the Powers - but I digress. I still don't think it was malicious or because they wanted anyone to die. (Well, maybe Yavanna - I've never really gotten vibes from her that she likes ANY of Eru's children because they use her precious plants to survive, though maybe she'd like the Hobbits.) I think it was more of a childish thought on the Valar's part. "Fëanáro will see one day, and he'll be sorry!" That sort of thing.

And I think the Valar didn't really see anything wrong with what they did until the Dagor Bragollach. They made the Sun and Moon, and Men came to be, so clearly everything was going fine. See, Fëanáro, the Valar didn't need to do anything so drastic like return to Endórë.

Of course, then everything else happened......

.... I find it very difficult to believe that the Valar wouldn't know about this. Námo and Vairë would, 100%. Varda, too - she sees everything. And Manwë hears everything, and he's clearly been listening to the goings-on in Endórë before. Ulmo also actively participates in what goes on in Beleriand. These five at least would know how bad it's gotten in Middle Earth.

It was around this time Turgon sent sailors to beg help from the Valar, mind you. All drowned to Ossë, save Voronwë, and Ulmo did nothing. And it can easily be argued that the only reason Ulmo didn't let Voronwë die was so that someone could take his pet Man to his pet Elf's city. Which I guess is better than nothing, at least.

I justify this with the Valar being petty but not malicious. I genuinely think that Manwë thought the Noldor would pray if they needed help. (Yes, he said to never call him again, and the Noldor probably DID pray in the beginning - especially Turgon's people - but Manwë ... doesn't exactly logic very well.)

Anyway, Eärendil would eventually show up, and let's say he didn't have the Silmaril?

At this point in time, the Valar would have no excuse. They would know exactly how bad it is in Middle Earth. And the fact that Eärendil is pleading for mercy for everyone - including the SoF - should have an impact. If they still refused to go against Morgoth because he didn't have a Silmaril, the Valar would not be good and moral. Maybe not quite as bad as Morgoth, but they wouldn't be far off.

.....

I wonder if Eärendil is one of those scenarios where you are so focused on an outcome - either to make it happen or to avoid it entirely - that it comes to pass through your own actions.

The Valar - or at least Námo, because we know at least he can see the future - saw Eärendil as the only way to save everything from Morgoth, and became so fixated on him that they inevitably created that future. "We have to bend the rules Ilúvatar made about marriage, or Eärendil won't come." "We can't get involved, or Eärendil won't come." "We need the Sons of Fëanáro to do these horrible things, or Eärendil won't come."

(I absolutely DESPISE this logic, but it's better than the "all is well in Valinórë; yea, Valinórë prospereth - all is well" logic the Valar show. At least it would mean one of the Valar was taking steps to fix things rather than ignore the problem in the hope of it going away.)

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There's also the fact that Melian herself told Thingollo to give up the Silmaril. She can see the future, and she'd know the hearts of the Valar. If she had even an inkling that they would reject Eärendil without the Silmaril, I don't think she'd suggest returning it to the SoF.

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I guess you can say "the Valar needed to see the Noldor had gotten over their prideful ways", but I still don't see how EÄRENDIL giving them a SILMARIL would do that. It wasn't his to give. It wasn't ELWING'S to give. Or Dior's. Or Thingollo's. Or Lúthien's. Or Beren's.

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TLDR

I think the argument that Beren, Lúthien, Thingollo, Dior, and Elwing needed to keep the Silmaril away from the SoF to save the world is complete and utter bs, and I'm not afraid to say it. There's no way the Valar are so cruel and heartless as to let all of Endórë die to Morgoth because they didn't get a Silmaril - that goes against everything that Tolkien believed of them. They're flawed, but they aren't (supposed to be) selfish enough to watch the world burn to prove their point.

I think the compassion Eärendil showed had more of an effect in changing the hearts of the Valar than the Silmaril.

#tolkien #tolkien legendarium #silmarillion #tolkien headcanons #Valar #Eärendil #Silmarils #My takes

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stu-dyingstudent · 7 months ago

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Sakura Haruno Fanfiction!!

Started: 2024.05.01

Last Updated: 2024.05.31

Total Works: 48

Okay, I absolutely adore Sakura as a character, but I do wish that we got a bit more of her just being awesome and progressing as a ninja. Generally speaking, I prefer multichapter (finished) fics, so that is what this list is primarily going to contain. This list contains my some of my favorite Sakura centric fanfiction, so everyone can enjoy these masterpieces too!!

note: this is my original list, but you can also check out my master list which has some more fics, is organized, and gets updated!!

Survival of the fittest - cywscross || ao3 || T || shikasaku || canon divergent || one shot

Sakura is thirteen, still a Genin, lost in the middle of Earth Country, lugging an unconscious Chuunin around, and so far beyond scared that she’s moved right on to pissed off.

AHHHH this one is soooo good!!! I know I literally just said that this list is mainly going to be multi-chapter fics, but survival of the fittest is great!

The Ocean is Deep and Dark - Pleasedial123 || ao3 || M || canon divergent || complete

Gato doesn't trust Zabuza to get the job done. Instead he sends a team of thugs to ambush the Bridge Builder on his return to Wave. Team Seven, exhausted from their fight and Kakashi still unconscious, is separated. Sakura gets captured. Terrible things happen to pretty girls in the hands of men like Gato and his thugs. But Zabuza puts his claim in first and suddenly Sakura isn't the prisoner of a civillian businessman and his hired muscle. Suddenly she's Momichi Zabuza's.

I won't lie, I have a soft spot for fics that take place during the land of waves arc, especially when they focus on Sakura's growth. I love how Zabuza was portrayed in this as although he wasn't necessarily a bad guy, he wasn't a good one either. He simply has morals. Sakura's fear in this is also quite raw and eye opening as it covers a theme that isn't ever covered in the original series. The reality is, the world is not kind to women, and a captured young female ninja is most certainly going to be at some untasteful risks. Oh, team 7's concern was also pretty touching ngl.

Satori (Between the Lines) - Jaylene || ffn || gen || T || AU || complete

While attending the Academy, Sakura's field experience assignment with the Konohagakure Intelligence Division ends up being more valuable than she'd ever guess.

Pulling my weight - itsthechocopuff || ao3/ffn || shikasakucho || T || AU || complete

During their mission to Wave, Sakura realises how behind she is in her training and decides to do something about it. She vows to become a shinobi her Village and her teammates can respect and depend on. But Sakura has always been a paper-ninja, so her first stop for inspiration is the library where she finds unexpected help in the form of one very bored tokujo who quickly goes on to become an integral part of her life. Soon, despite the neglect of her sensei and all odds seemingly against her, Sakura's destiny begins to change.

Kill Your Heroes - TheLightAtLastAndAlways || ao3/ffn || T || canon divergent || ongoing

It's time to stop waiting for other people to save you. A story about fear, resilience, and Sakura.

I feel like anyone that is a fan of Sakura centric fics has read this one and it's for a good reason! Probably one of my all time favorites as I love how Sakura's emotions are handled in this and simply the fact that she is so driven by fear and just the will to keep surviving. It's an aspect of the original series that just was not addressed imo. They are essentially child soldiers, so I wish that we got to witness more moments of vulnerability from the young ninja. Unfortunately, it probably won't be finishing anytime soon.

Stumble - writer168 || ao3/ffn || gen || T || time travel AU || complete

Sakura wanted to die. Sasori was fine with staying dead. But it seemed fate had other plans for them, because when they both wake up younger with blood pulsing through their veins, they had to remember how to live again. Time Travel AU

We need more fics with Genma and Ibiki!!!!

Five Petals - PrecariousSauce || ao3 || sasusaku || gen || canon divergent || complete

Several things happen all at once in less than a minute’s time. Sakura’s elbow slams into Sasuke’s side from an angle he doesn’t anticipate, sending him tumbling end over end off the branch. Sasuke rights himself just a second too late and without checking where he’s going to land– When he does his knee twists, he feels a lightning bolt of pain shoot from his sole to his head, his leg gives out. And Orochimaru’s teeth sink down to the gum in Sakura’s shoulder.

Blind - ObsidianSickle || ffn || sasusaku || T || canon divergent || complete

It was almost time, Orochimaru was going to take his body as a vessel. He hated being used...he refused to be used. With that thought, he took the kunai in his hand and slashed across his eyes.

I won't lie, Sakura is kinda weak in this one and it got pretty cheesy, but I still enjoyed it.

A Twist in Time - wolf08 || ffn || sasusaku || T || time travel AU || complete

With Konoha on the verge of destruction, Sakura is sent on a last-resort mission to save her world by travelling to the past. Join her in coping with her old body's shortcomings, testing the natural laws of time, falling in love all over again, and rediscovering who she is.

With Every Beat - halfdemonfan || ffn || sasusaku || M || canon divergent || incomplete

Pain can come in various forms. Sakura had suffered all of them; but with the war raging on she found the torture would continue.

Ghosts - ElegiesforShiva || ffn || sausaku || M || AU || incomplete

In love and loss, it often comes back to family, and Team 7 had always been fated, hadn't they? Deny it as she may, Sakura finds her heart strung to them with an uncanny reverence and the weight of their ghosts. Sakura-centric. Heavy, heavy angst. Slow burn Sasusaku. Canon pairings. Lots of friendship feels. Eventual (consensual) lemon.

I won't lie, this one is pretty dark, so definitely read the TWs if that applies to you.

Your Move, Instigator (draw your weapon and hold your tongue) - Laysan_albatross || ao3|| AU || complete

“We are still under wartime policy,” the recruiter had told her parents. He had an envelope in his hand. He sounded sorry. “She has two parents who are successful ninjas. We would be remiss to overlook her potential based upon that alone.” The Third Shinobi War never ended. Konoha needs more soldiers, grabbing anyone who can fight, especially those who can't say no.

You guys, I love this one to death. It's definitely a darker take on the Naruto universe, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I've been looking for more like this fic where the civilian born shinobi are deemed as more expendable (thrown into war prematurely).

Find Your Place (whatever it takes) - Dovey || ao3 || AU || incomplete

The war lasts longer than in canon, and has only just ended. While most of the 'Konoha 12' are clan heirs and thus protected from having to go to war prematurely, Sakura is from a civilian family, with naturally advanced chakra control, and thus is thrown immediately onto the frontlines. Now she's on a genin team in peacetime, and she's struggling to figure out how to live when she's not constantly at risk of dying. Team seven bonds in new weird ways, The Uchiha are actually all dead except for Sasuke (including war-hero itachi) who's got a chip on his shoulder the size of Konoha, Naruto isn't the kyuubi container and he finds Sakura kinda scary. Sakura would just like to have a hobby.

This one I actually have not read (I hope to read), but "your move, instigator" was inspired by this one!

Icarus (protect the flames) - ginoeh || ao3 || canon divergent || incomplete

When Sakura realizes that playing little girl and flunking combat training had probably been a gross miscalculation on her part, she’s stranded in a rickety home in a run down country with an unconscious sensei. Sakura isn’t sure if she can make up for that mistake before it kills her or her team but she sure as hell will give it her best shot. She really couldn’t have known that falling victim to Hatake Kakashi’s unique attempts at teaching would open up another can of worms entirely.

team. - waterpllar || ao3 || AU || complete

She’s under Neji's command, which apparently means she’s under the Hyuuga’s command. The Hyuuga’s role is on the frontlines, but Neji must be special for a kid from the branch family, because they mostly send him and Sakura out after the big battles are done, to pick off the wounded, and burn bodies. Sakura kind of wishes she had someone to keep her from the big fights, too. Her job is with Neji, taking back kekkei genkai and retrieving important people’s bodies, but she has other assignments, too. She’s given a dull kunai and told to go through the battlefield, dodging blows and jutsus from friend and foe, slashing at whatever isn’t wearing a Konoha headband. (the third shinobi war doesn't end, dragging on for years. konoha is running out of troops, and unimportant children in the academy with even a modicum of talent are snatched up to the warfront. sakura, unfortunately, is one of them. so is neji.)

Yay, a fic inspired by "your move, instigator" so of course I gotta put it on the list!! Although, I gotta say that the ending was rather disappointing imo. There was so much potential, but the author admitted to not wanting to continue the story so it was cut short. Hopefully more works of this nature will come to light!

Cold Green Eyes - Wolfgang_in_the_Stars || ao3 || AU || complete

Haruno Sakura is 12 years old when she realises she has to make some changes in her life or else she'll die. Three years ago, Sakura split herself. Inner took her trauma, her pain, her violence, and Outer took the rest. If she wants to survive, if she wants to become a strong kunoichi, she'll have to accept herself as a whole. It's not as easy as it sounds.

Home is Where the Heart is - DeepPoeticGirl || ffn || sasusaku || T || blank period || canon divergent || complete

And with every moment together, they get just a little closer, a little more comfortable with each other. Fall a little more in love. Post-war. Pre-epilogue.

In Times of Peace - SouthSideStory || ffn || sasusaku || M || blank period || canon divergent || complete

The war is over, and like Konoha, Team 7 has rebuilt itself from the ground up. Everything has changed, but Sasuke and Sakura remain much the same. Eleven years, she thinks, is a long time to be in love.

Ripples - Yellow Mask || ffn || sasusaku || T || canon divergent || complete

Following a botched mission, Sakura is made a slave by Sound, a position that could very well alter the future…especially concerning a certain familiar missing-nin.

I thought this fic was pretty interesting as we get to see Sasuke under Orochimaru's command.

The Pack Survives - ihopethelightwillshineupon || ao3 || team 7 || canon divergent || complete

When a simple C-rank mission turns into a straight-up nightmare, the members of Team Seven narrowly escape with their lives. They end up stuck in the middle of nowhere, each of them injured and forced to rely on one another for help. They’ve only been a team for a couple of weeks, still distant from one another, still trying hard to prove themselves. But when they’re all hurt and struggling desperately to survive, they have no choice but to lower their walls. Stranded far away from the village, Team Seven fights to get back home safely – but with help impossibly far away, with their food supplies shrinking and with their injuries slowing them down, their journey becomes more difficult with every step. In the wake of their struggle, though, their bonds grow steadily stronger.

Sakura is not the main character in this one as it it more focused on team 7 as a whole, but she still has some great development!

Return & Rehash - SpaceNugget11 || ffn || sasusaku || M || time travel AU || incomplete

"You," Sakura snarled with bared teeth. Sasuke gagged for air, clutching at her forearm, but she only pressed harder into him. Her green eyes crackled, and she wished she could burn him alive with the heat of her anger.

An Inch of Gold - KuriQuinn || ffn || sasusaku || T || time travel AU || complete

Team 7 is sent on a mission to investigate a disturbance outside of the village, where they encounter an unconscious girl in a crater. The mysterious Sarada insists she's a shinobi from the Hidden Leaf trying to rescue her teammates. When the team discovers she possesses a Sharingan, things become even more unbelievable. [Part of the Legacy of Fire Series]

Honestly, anything by this author is great! The writing captures the personalities of the characters so well and I'm a complete sucker for the whole Sarada meets Sakura and Sasuke trope!! Sasusaku is super cute in this (while being realistic) and I love how Kakashi is such a shipper.

Trial by Ninja - jacobk || ffn || T || canon divergence || complete

To become great, one must overcome great opponents. A moment of inspiration during the chuunin exam puts Sakura on the path to greatness, whether she likes it or not.

Loyalty - TrueRadicalDreamer || ffn/ao3 || M || AU || complete

A ten-year-old Haruno Sakura is put in the worst situation of her young life - being forced into working as a spy for an enemy village. As she navigates the mores of her new world, Sakura begins to realize that she is changing as a person and that she may not recognize who it is she is becoming. A story about personal responsibility, about the duties of a ninja to their village, and about the true meaning of loyalty. (Pre-Skip, Unapologetically Sakura-centric, 13 years in the writing)

Ok, a little note here is that this fic is actually being rewritten. I read the old version and loved it (the one I linked), but there is a new one coming out on ao3 although I think it might incomplete. Nonetheless, I HIGHLY recommend this one as I think it's great and pleasantly dark!

Five Kingdoms for the Dead - EvilIsARelativeTerm || ffn || M || AU || complete

After the Forest of Death, Sakura comes to realize that being weak is no longer an option. However, she finds that change is sometimes painful and that truth doesn't always come easy. Luckily, she'll have some help along the way.

Two words: SO GOOD!!!! It made me wish that we got more of Sakura and Neji doing missions together.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Branch || ao3 || AU || complete

An AU in which all the character development of part one gets its due: Kakashi finds another way, Sasuke does not leave the Leaf, Itachi remains a villain, no one is a carbon copy of a previous generation, Sakura grows up to be terrifying, Sasuke finds his way back to family, and Naruto wins all hearts. Featuring Team Seven fluff, filling in the time-skip, and a rather different second half. Drama, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Action, Occasional Porn.

I Know Those Eyes - roomfishing || ffn || sasusaku || T || AU || complete

Seven years following Sasuke’s disappearance, Sakura, now a medical-nin, goes on an ANBU assassination mission. SasuSaku. Contains spoilers, PG-13 for mild V, L, S.

A Lesson in Humility - aobears || ao3 || itasaku || AU || incomplete

It's a fierce desire to protect, to possess. What's Sakura's will stay Sakura's, until she says otherwise. Where Sakura gets sick of being the weak link.

These Eyes of Mine (I Can See) - tsukuyue || ao3 || gen || time travel AU || complete

They've lost. Naruto was dead, killed at Kaguya’s hands. Along with him died any illusions of hope that they could win. They couldn’t win, but perhaps they wouldn’t need to. In attempts to stop the Fourth Shinobi War from ever occuring, Sakura is sent back in time to the moment of her birth. Protecting the people she cared about would be much easier if she knew all the facts. OR Where Sakura can see the dead, and Danzō deserves to die.

Little Piece of Heaven - Leanne Ash || ffn || sasusaku || T || canon divergent || complete

"I don't do it because I think you're weak! I do it because—! Because I… just… Never mind." Years later it finally happened. Unfortunately, she just didn't care anymore. A story of love and irony, where one is oblivious… and the other is Sasuke.

Dessert Blossom - Aphiria || ffn || kankusaku || T || AU || complete

Sakura’s accepted a mission to help Suna with an unknown illness that has affected a handful of its villagers. And all Kankurou has to do is watch over her while she’s in his city. It should be easy. Right?

Despite me being a sasusaku fan, I've always been a sucker for kankusaku every since she healed him in shippuden, so this was a nice read (a bit cheesy but fun).

Two Minds (are better than one) - Lesemaus16 || ao3 || gen || AU || complete

Tobirama doesn't generally object to being reborn. He does object to being stuck in the mind of a little girl, though. Sakura grows up with a grumpy voice in her head, telling her to train more. Tobirama's influence on Sakura might very well change the story. Or maybe not, who knows.

Tobirama is such a great character (so refreshing) and his interactions with Sakura in this are gold! I hope one day Kishimoto will release some side stories about him and other characters from his time as we really don't know that much about them tbh.

Expedient - SwiftKick || ffn || T || AU || complete

Konoha and Iwa sign a truce and agree to an Exchange Program between recently promoted genin to "bolster village relations." Fortunately, if anything were to go wrong, Haruno Sakura was just average enough to risk losing.

Wow, this one is another all time favorite of mine! I didn't have high expectations going into it, but this fic is truly great. Deidara is such a fun character and I really enjoyed Sakura's growth in this.

The Nearest Star - summersirius || ao3 || minasaku || canon divergent || complete

The quest for strength comes from the spirit or in this case, the soul. —Minato/Sakura

I quite honestly though that I was going to hate this because of the pairing, but it was surprisingly very well done! Also, Sakura is a total badass in this.

Trials of Change - Espoiretreves || ao3 || gen || time travel AU || complete

Haruno Sakura made a promise. Looking in the eyes of her Shisou and the reanimated Hokage, she took on the most important mission of her life. Go back in time and try to prevent the 4th Shinobi War. Now, Sakura is back to her 5-year-old body, with all the knowledge and haunting memories of the future. She vows to keep her precious people safe and stop certain events from happening, without altering the timeline too much. The trials her emotions and logic put her through have her questioning her very existence, but for the sake of peace, she has to push forward. No matter what.

This one is a really good non-massacre fic where we get to see Shisui!

Dirt and Ashes, or: The One-and-a-Half Body Problem - Tozette || ao3 || gen || M || canon divergent || complete

The invasion of Konoha during the chuunin exam didn't fail. Team seven is broken, people are dead, and Sakura is hurt and frightened and a very long way from home. Alternative summary: In which Sakura carries half of Hidan across two countries, leaving a trail of blood, bodies, and other people's legs.

This one is pretty gross tbh, but I highly recommend!

Obito-Sensei - Ser Serendipity || ffn || gen || M || AU || ongoing

During the fateful mission to the Kannabi Bridge, Obito is too slow, and Kakashi ends up paying the price with his life. Years later, Elite Jonin Mangekyou no Obito is placed in charge of a very familiar genin team, determined to keep them safe in a world at peace. Or: Obito surviving wrecks everything, in twenty steps or less.

Time Flies Like An Arrow - Katlou303 || ao3 || gen || K || time travel AU || complete

Sakura traveled back in time with the intent of changing everything, but something went wrong, and now she's four years old having nightmares about impossible monsters and losing friends she has yet to meet.

Labyrinthine - FM_White || ao3 || itasaku || M || AU || complete

ItaSaku (Post Uchiha Massacre) AU: Some things are destined to be. It just takes a couple of tries to get there. ItaSaku. Light KakaSaku.

I actually really liked how this was done as team 7 is still a family, Sasuke didn't lose his mind, Itachi picked a much more respectable path imo, and the characters are all adults.

The Misadventures of Kakashi and the Girl From No Where - Goldfishlover73 || ao3 || kakasaku || M || time travel AU || complete

When a girl called Sakura seemingly falls in the sky, Kakashi is skeptical. Far more skeptical than the rest of Team Minato are. War is approaching quickly and this strange girl is leaving more questions than answers in her wake, Kakashi must decide where his trust and loyalties lie in a constantly changing world.

Told in the perspective of Kakashi in his youth! Really interesting take and I love how strong Sakura is in this in addition to the fact that we get to see a different side of Kakashi that we aren't used to.

The Sixth Shadow - thinknicht || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon divergent - eventual time travel AU || ongoing

No one seemed to find it odd when little Haruno Sakura threw herself smack dab in front of a Chidori and Rasengan. Not even Kakashi stopped to wonder. (He really should have.)

The story of how Sakura came to be the sixth hogake despite all of the challenges thrown her way. Maybe I'm just late to the game, but this is a true hidden gem! Such an interesting take on how the events of the series could have unfolded. I especially love Sakura's drive in addition to the political aspects. However, be warned that Kakashi is an absolute HATER (in the beginning), but he gets better! Also, the fic is super long....

Hell's Radiance - Angel of the Godless || ffn || M || AU || complete

AU Fate can be a twisted thing, some only exist in hate. Sakura was one of those, a container of the most feared demon in history, hated by her village. Lost in the darkness, she tried to find a reason for living.

Will Of Stone - sadfascist || ffn || M || AU || complete

Timeskip: Sakura travels to the Earth Country to take the Iwa chuunin exam. Waiting for her there is a place of ancient wonder… violent trials… star-crossed love… and a conspiracy that threatens world peace itself. An epic novel. COMPLETE.

Another really long fic.

still waters by Vulpecula_et_Anser || ao3 || gen || M || canon AU || one-shot complete

Sakura is twelve when she queues up in front a desk with a bunch of other equally-terrified looking shinobi. The ages range from younger than her to old enough to be her grandpa. The man sitting at the desk is stony-faced as he doles out assignments. Sakura obediently shuffles forward when it is her turn, and recites her shinobi identification number in a shaky voice when asked. When the provost marshal looks at her, looks down at his paper, looks back at her, and grimaces, Sakura knows it’s not going to be good. or How Sakura survives the war, told in bits and pieces.

Canon-fodder! Sakura makes her shinobi debut on the front lines, forcing her to get creative in her means to survive. It's gritty, raw, and the clever use of seals is great! Y'all know this type of story is my personal guilty pleasure (also one of the best I've read thus far)...

A Drop of Poison by Androgyninja || ao3 || gen || M || canon divergent || complete

After being humiliated during a sparring match, Sakura realizes that she no longer wants to base her future on a boy who doesn't even like her. With a newfound sense of determination, she sets off to become a truly terrifying kunoichi, making her fair share of friends and enemies along the way. In other words, Sakura discovers who she really wants to be and fucks shit up along the way. And if she poisons a few important people? Well, that's just collateral damage. Begins during Sakura's final year at the academy and ends right before the canon time skip.

Where the hierarchy of the clans and clanless is more prominent than ever, Sakura comes to the stark realization of her true purpose on team 7. Along with fics like Kill Your Heroes, Sakura makes sacrifices out of her newfound determination to become a respected shinobi. However, her actions bring ramifications which she'll have to face head first. Also, poison-user! Sakura is such a great idea (I wish this was canon)!

Only a Crush by Gingersoup || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon divergent || complete

It was supposed to be an easy, fun night out. She never intended to wake up in her sensei's bed, half-naked and with no memory of what happened the night before! As she tries to unravel the mystery of that night, something sinister is growing beyond the walls of the Leaf Village... and what was only a crush spirals wildly out of control.

Sakura is unwillingly thrust into the world of illegal drugs, trafficking, and sex all while coming to terms with her new feelings regarding her former sensei. I typically don't like kakasaku, but I think this work is done tastefully well. The characters are both adults and the immorality of the relationship is not ignored, so be prepared for a lot of "we can't," "this is wrong," etc.. Anyway, Sakura is an absolute powerhouse and I thoroughly enjoyed the relationship between all of the different characters and villages!

Masks by mads999 || ao3 || kakasaku || E || canon divergent || complete

1. Sakura's Inner is far more diabolical than anyone ever expected 2. Crows prove to be cruel mentors 3. Sakura comes to learn exactly how much she hates Kakashi (as well as how alike they are, in the most terrible of ways)

Kakashi is a hateful turd and Sakura is spiteful! I hate this ship and I'm not a big fan of Kakashi here, but boy is this fic good. One of the best character developments I've read for Sakura and she certainly becomes of force to be reconned with. In addition, the Anbu worldbuilding (can I use that here?) is phenomenal!

New Day Dawning - IncompleteSentanc (Erava) || ao3 || narusaku || T || canon divergence || complete

One day, while visiting the grave of Nohara Rin, Obito stumbles across a young girl terrifyingly like her. He decides to ensure she doesn’t meet the same fate. As for Sakura? Sakura had no idea what she was awakening the day she went to visit her parents graves - but she never looked back. One way or another. (Feat. Sakura raised by Obito and the Akatsuki, and her eventual return to Konoha and all those she left behind)

Sakura is brainwashed and manipulated, but loved by notorious killers nonetheless. Incredibly well written and I won't lie when I say that the ending took me a bit by surprise.

#anime / manga #manga #naruto #naruto fanfiction #sakura haruno #bamf sakura #haruno sakura #sasusaku #sakura uchiha #team 7

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buffyfan145 · 2 months ago

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Another great episode with ep 2.6 of "Rings of Power" today!!! 😀 So much happened in it and we only have 2 more episodes!!! Lots to talk about behind the cut but I think I figured out the whole "who Galadriel is kissing" thing and it's not any of the "leaks" we saw as I think the promo for next week showed part of it but something I wondered about when I first heard Morfydd say it. 😏 Also I loved hearing Elendil's dad Amandil being mentioned as I always loved his name is so similar to mine. LOL

I loved the episode and so much happened!!! All of Sauron's scenes were amazing, as well as Celebrimbor's. Both Charlies brought it again and I feel so bad for Celebrimbor. We all what's going and it's so sad. Then seeing Sauron use more of his Maiar powers and doing what we call the mind palace manipulating to Celebrimbor. And him saying the world "precious" twice!!! Then also seeing Sauron with the dwarves and likely calling up the balrog, and then the siege starting. We also finally got to see Charlie Rich too playing one of the elves.

Then everything with Galadriel and Adar was great too!!! 😀 I loved their conversations about Sauron and how Adar figured out Halbrand was Sauron. Also he knows Galadriel lied to him about what Sauron offered her too. I'm curious how he thinks combing Morgoth's crown (which I didn't expect as that does go a bit against the books as Morgoth has that crown around his neck in the Void keeping him there) with Nenya will kill Sauron for good. We know that won't happen and that Sauron actually still didn't die when Frodo destroyed the ring, as he's still out there in Middle Earth as a formless spirit. So curious again how this is going to play out in the finale with Galadriel and Sauron as she won't kill him.

Then that brings me to the kiss that's coming for Galadriel and seeing the promo for next week's ep I do think it's Celebrimbor. There's part of the promo where she's with him in his forge and she's holding his face kneeling beside him on the floor. I think this is likely when he's dying and it's making me wonder if she tries to save him via a kiss, like she did with Gandalf in "The Hobbit" movies, but it doesn't work and he dies in her arms. The thing with the banner happens after his death with the orcs so it's possible this is how he dies, and if the show got the rights to that 1st Age story about how Celebrimbor was in love with Galadriel but she fell in love with Celeborn they could work that in too that she's with him when he dies. I can see them doing this and his death is tragic already but I also wouldn't mind if when he does die she's with him so he's not alone. So all those "leaks" about the kiss are likely all false if this is really what happens, and I'm totally ok with this as even being a Haladriel shipper I didn't think they'd go that far with a kiss this early in the show (though I can tell they've confirmed they both have feelings for each other) and the whole thing with Elrond are lies made up to make us shippers angry. We'll see if I'm right but I do believe this likely is what is happening.

Back to kisses the Poppy and Merimac one was cute. And I thought Elendil and Mirel were going to 3 times. LOL 😀 The whole Numenor storylines this episode was great!!! I loved Miriel was able to prove she's still queen and it extends the whole Faithfull vs The King's Men more as we've got a ways to go before Sauron gets there hopefully back in his Halbrand form. But now Ar-Pharazon knows that Halbrand is Sauron and he needs him!!! Also, loved how Elendil was looking very much like Aragorn and even Halbrand in this episode.

Even more convinced The Stranger is Gandalf after his talk with Tom Bombadil and the thing he said to him that is almost exactly what Gandalf said in the movies. I do think The Stranger/Gandalf is going to go save Nori, Poppy, and the stoors and that's likely when we find out his name is Gandalf. Curious if he'll face the Dark Wizard (who is likely a Blue wizard) this season or if that will be next.

So excited for the final 2 episodes of season 2!!! Though I know the 2 year wait will be coming after that. Also looking forward to those scenes of Adar and Elrond next week that were in the trailer too.

#the lord of the rings #the rings of power #spoilers #sauron #celebrimbor #galadriel #adar #haladriel #galadriel x halbrand #halbrand #the stranger #gandalf #tom bombadil #elendil #miriel #ar pharazon

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year ago

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parallel lines | d. targaryen | part three

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

"The centre of every poem is this: I have loved you. I have had to deal with that." - Salma Deera.

(HARRENHALL'S CASTLE. 130AC.)

When Alys Rivers was born, there wasn't a word that could properly describe her power. She could coax rain out of clouds, and foresee a million different outcomes - you were the opposite. Yes, you were different than the men of these lands but your powers were scarce it couldn't even promise your own safety.

Alys Rivers was a real witch, more powerful than any mage that has walked this earth. She had the power to destroy everything, but she never lifted a finger against you. You figured that you'd be safe as long as she loved you - she was your sister after all.

The woman that you trail behind.

"I was worried about you - I thought that you'd follow after your husband. I couldn't let you die." she whispered, staring deep into the fire - taking leisurely sips of her wine. "I wanted to die, Alys." you glared at her - memories of last night flooding through your mind.

"You don't really believe that," she says with absolute certainty. What use was living without the man that you loved? "- rain came and we prepared barrels to catch water. Rain is gone and you move on." she turned her head towards you, hidden wisdom in her tone.

"What do you think your husband would've done? If you died last night, and he lived." she mused, already having an answer in mind. "Silence," you gritted your teeth - but it only provoked her.

"He would've married another maiden - perhaps Rhaenyra Targaryen? I've heard stories about his love for her." she antagonized, and you retreated into your bed. "You don't know him, Alys." you breathed, praying that death would come sooner than men.

"I know men like him. My beautiful sister - seduced by that-"

"If you have nothing good to say, you may leave." you placed the blanket over your body. Ignoring her discontent.

yourname_: yeah he's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me 😎

liked by RhaeTargaryen and 283 others

>comments

aemond_hxghtower: 😨 my reaction to that information 😨

Aegspert: Short 🤣 - yourname_: Says the 5'10 asshole ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? - - Aegspert: @yourname_ it's 5'11*

(ST. JOSEPH THE WORKER'S SCHOOL IN DRAGONSTONE. JANUARY 6, 2023)

"Aemond please please please!" Joffrey pleaded while hanging onto his uncle's hoodie. "Please attend my birthday!" he requested showing the older man his 'puppy eyes'.

"He's not going to stop unless he gets what he wants." Harwin crosses his arms, smiling at the boy who was jumping up and down. Aemond wanted to roll his eyes, Joffrey keeps doing this because he knows that he'll get what he wants, once he does. "Your brother only turns five once," you agreed with his family.

His glare softens - he hated you in his past life, was only interested in you in this life because he enjoyed to torment you. But somehow, along the lines of being your boyfriend - and living with each other, he's found himself falling. He's grown to care for you.

"I don't know how we'll have fun, there'll be other kids there -"

"And there will also be adults." you responded and everyone stared at him for a reply. With a shaky breath, he relents.

"Of course we'll come. We have a lot of time." he smiled down at his nephew, mayhaps it was finally time to put his grievances aside.

Daemon's eyes narrowed hearing his phone ping. He never figured out how to put the thing on silent mode. "Take a left over there, much faster." he commented while pointing the right direction to the Uber Driver. "Apologies, it's my first time in this neighborhood." the driver chuckled and he hums. "There's always a first time for everything," he mumbled - staring at his phone.

yourname_ has requested to follow you.

He closes his eyes - should he accept it? Would you be turned off by the types of things he posted in Instagram? There were a couple selfies and charity foundation posts - the only people who followed him were his closest friends, family and students.

He presses the 'confirm' button.

yourname_ 10:28am i hope that you don't mind the follow request I couldn't find your facebook, I don't have an Iphone for imessage 😰

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:29am I don't have a facebook. Rhaenyra's kids set up this account ,,, something about me being a luddite 🤣

yourname_ 10:29am ohh i totally get those kids life is lonely without socmed i wanted to thank you for paying for dinner last night rhaenyra returned my share

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:30am It's nothing, I typically pay for the team dinners. It's not part of the bonus or anything Just my way of saying thanks 👍🏻

yourname_ 10:30am well...thank you anyways !

The driver stops his car in front of Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion. "We're here," he announces and Daemon silently gives his thanks, exiting the car before another round of conversation was started.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion slowly turned into a forest - there were beautiful balloons scattered around the doors, it looked exactly out of a fairytale. "Rhaenyra's husband, Harwin, owns this restaurant chain in the USA. I had no faith in him - but gods did he pull it off." Aemond mumbled, leading you towards the kitchen.

As expected with rich people - their kitchen wasn't exactly the main kitchen. It was a kitchen for decoration purposes, everything looked beautiful in this house. "When you told me that you had a trust fund, I didn't expect that you'd be this -" you stuttered, eyes gazing around the wonderful interior. "Oh no, this is all Harwin." Aemond lied.

He couldn't have you thinking that he could've provided you a better life. There were things that couldn't be bought by money - his happiness was one of those things. "Rhaenyra's husband is cool, he's the kind of person I want to be when I grow up." you whispered and he replied with a small chuckle.

Some things never change.

"Maybe you'll finally start to read that cookbook that my mum bought you?" he teased, hand trailing towards the small of your back. "Or you can cook, and I can keep eating." you responded, he pulls your body closer. "Whatever you say, boss." he agreed.

A man clears his throat from behind the both of you.

"No sex on the countertops, I can't believe that we're having this talk again." Criston Cole rolls his eyes playfully, Aemond smiles. "Criston, it's been a while." he welcomed his father-figure with a warm embrace. Rhaenyra's house used to belong to their father, when Viserys died and Alicent married Criston - they briefly lived in this house. "Too much of a while," the man pats his back.

"Is this her?" he pointed in your direction. "In the flesh," you responded - hugging him tightly.

You've never met the man in person - but via video-call and Aemond's stories, he was a vital figure in his childhood. "You are taller in person." he complimented and you giggled. That was the first time someone called you taller. "You know, the last time I saw Aemond - he was boning his ex-girlfriend on these countertops." Criston chuckled with cadence and Aemond rolled his eyes.

"I do not want to talk about that witch again, what is dead may never die again." Aemond shook his head, his hands finding its place back on your waist. "If you say so," Criston poured himself a glass of seltzer.

"I didn't expect you to be here, I thought that you were teaching that dojo in Manila?" you tilted your head and the man nods. "It's not everyday that Joffrey celebrates his birthday, plus, I thought I'd come to visit -" he winked at Aemond. "It's nice to haunt your mother once in a while." he joked.

"I still can't understand why you agreed on a divorce. You loved her - she adored you. You know how conditional mum's love is." Aemond turned serious for a second. His grip on your waist tightened. "You know what. You should catch up with Helaena, I have to talk to Criston." your boyfriend whispered and you nod.

There were some aspects of his life that didn't require an explaination.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S FOYER)

You saw him again.

Daemon Targaryen - his name brought shivers down your spine. You stalked him a few hours ago - and to your surprise he was on that same train-ride in Italy. It is certainly a small world.

"Oh hey," he greeted with a smile. He held a large gift with both of his hands. "Where do you put this?" he inquired, searching the foyer for a table. "I-I don't know, I didn't bring a gift." you breathed, suddenly conscious of your simple mistake. "Oh no, it's okay - I'm the uncle that brings big gifts. It's my family title," he chuckled, verbally thanking the maid that came to retrieve his gift.

He had a certain cadence to him. He required no introduction.

"I normally bring gifts to birthday parties but we were here on short notice," you smiled - leading him towards the living room.

Why did he make you feel electrified?

You stared deep into his eyes, unaware of the jazz music that began to play in the background.

'All roads lead to you, even the ones I took to forget you' - Mahmoud Darwish

"I don't recommend bringing these kids gifts. I detest spoiled brats - these kids are far from it but they have everything. Bring them to a park or buy them ice cream, they'll like it more." he advised.

Your eyebrows merged into each other.

"In that case, what did you buy them?" you inquired, and he smiled. "30 kilos of kinetic sand ... they requested it." his voice brought shivers down your spine. There was something alluring about his voice, he spoke like a great commander - he knows what to say. He tells you what you should do.

Who was this ethereal wisp of a man? Why did he bring so much emotions?

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S LIVING ROOM)

A small giggle escaped your mouth.

"What do you think? Should people think with their hearts or their brains?" Rhaenyra inquired, piquing everyone's interest with her simple question. "Everyone should always think with their hearts," Rhaenys begins and Corlys rolls his eyes. "The words of a tender hearted woman." he teased earning a glare from his wife.

He presses a kiss to her hand. "I'm kidding, my love." he whispered.

"I mean as women - we think with our hearts first, then our brains - after that we make a logical decision." Rhaenys adds and Laenor shakes his head. "That would mean that you think with your brain, mother." Laenor argued and Rhaenys shook her head.

"My brain only made a decision between what my heart believed." Rhaenys raised her finger. "I think we should think with our brains. The question itself is the answer. Should people think with their hearts or their brains? What do we use to think? Our brains - is it not?" Daemon questioned the question.

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean, uncle."

"What about you, (Your Name). What do you think?" Corlys turned his head and all of their attention crashed towards you. "Shouldn't you give an opinion first, sir?" you smiled, pouring yourself a glass of soda. "Oh, I don't think I'll have much of an opinion. I agree with whatever my wife thinks about." Corlys chuckles.

"- then we think with our wives and not our hearts or brains." Daemon joked, earning a laugh.

"Well - our hypothalamus is the part of the brain that deals with love. When we say 'I love you with all of my heart' we don't actually mean that. What we mean is - I love you with all of the neurons in my hypothalamus. So - we do think with our brains. Daemon is right." you smiled and he patted your back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the verdict has been handed." Daemon teased the others and the table erupts into laughter. "Nerd," Rhaenys rolls her eyes before you both erupt into laughter.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

"On the screen, she looked like Alys. I thought that you found her again, but I know that girl - the comeliest woman in Harrenhal. All the knights used to travel all the way there - just to see her." Criston chuckled, reminiscing the past that he had.

He was much more handsome then, he had muscles, his body was toned - but now he was suffering hypertension and all other human deceases that didn't exist in the past.

"She's still very beautiful."

"I thought that if she and her sister would be reincarnated into this world again - they'd be models or something. Whatever did happen to Alys? I thought you loved her?" Criston inquired, Aemond's heart breaks a little. He's spent 25 years trying to forget Alys Rivers. He tried to forget those cold hands that have ensnared him.

In night, he sees her face in his dreams - eyes with kohl and plum red lips. He misses the woman that he used to love. All that he's loved in Alys, he tries to find inside of you - though your faces were similar, your personalities were as different as sun and moon.

He's grown to love you, yes.

You can never find the same person twice, yes.

But if he were to meet Alys - and she was suddenly different in this life. He'd still love her. He'd still love the different ways he'd fall in love with her. His Green Witch.

"or did you not love her?" Criston's eyes narrowed.

"I did - I do." he corrected himself.

"- but she won't come back. She told me that she'll never have a new body again." he shrugged, walking away from the kitchen - pretending that he wasn't affected at all.

next chapter>>

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lesbiansforboromir · 8 months ago

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Why you don't like Galadriel?

WELL. I mean this would need a complex answer, for one thing because you could say I don't actually dislike Galadriel as a character really. She's interesting, she has layers, her position in the story creates intriguing mysteries and insights into elven realities and her actions are always percieved in multiple different ways by different characters. She is both an object of world building and a lense to view it through, she had only contempt for Feanor but is the character MOST like him in the end, there's lots going on!

So as usual what I'd say I dislike is more fandom's perception of Galadriel than Galadriel herself, although don't get me wrong in terms of sympathy for her I have none to spare. But to the fandom she's like... well she's whatever anyone wants her to be, so long as that's pretty much perfect and always more right than anyone else around her. Idk if this question came because of my RoP Galadriel tirade post of a week ago, but the fact that people seem to believe Galadriel's right to the 'good guy' role is so irrefutible that it makes any negative portrayal of her 'bad' and 'tolkien's rolling in his grave' etc etc- it's just flabbergasting to me and is a symptom of this problem.

Like Galadriel's entire motive for coming to middle earth, declared and narrated, is to rule over people. She wants to be a Queen of a land that she controls with people inside it whom she has power over. That's it. Now, far be it from me to be on the Valar's side, lord knows I don't support their right to unquestioned rule either and the Eldar's urge to rule themselves is completely valid and Galadriel's no worse than any of her male counterparts who were also looking for the same thing. (In fact, given this is something she is apparently required to 'overcome' when none of those male elves must do the same, I'm inclined to believe this is another of those 'eowyn must reject violence for peace because war is bad except when men do it and for sure the men do continue to do it that's fine' misogynist tolkien moments.)

BUT STILL.. that's not like... a GOOD motive is it? It's neutral at best, right? And Galadriel never actually does anything that could be called more than polite for the rest of the time we know her. She never risks anything for the good of middle earth, she never solves any problems, she goes from place to place to avoid any conflict that threatens her until she and her husband finally decide to usurp a Silvan kingdom and magically isolate it from the rest of the world. They change Lindórinand's name to Lothlorien, thereby overwriting the language of it's native population and Galadriel then uses the power of her ring (that was given to her she didn't make it heself) to EMBALM (tolkien's words) the forest in time just so that she could make it appear as much like Valinor (her home, not the silvan's) as possible. Like!! This is not some paragon of virtue character!

Honestly RoP's portrayal of Galadriel is actually vastly more sympathetic than her actual character. PTSD, survivor's guilt and the maladaptive cope of needing to hunt down evil fanatically for all eternity is, to my mind, 100% more understandable than just... staying in Middle-Earth because she still wanted to rule over people and never believed she did anything wrong in the first place. Which is the canonical reason she's still in middle-earth post the first age, technically a sin by the Valar's standards! Galadriel is rebelling against the will of the west in doing this, but apparently SHE gets all the grace and chances to 'reform' in the world, unlike some other characters I could name >:|

... Maybe she aggravates me a little, but she does so IN COMPARISON to the criticisms other characters must bear as 'the reason they had to die to redeem themselves'. Like if Boromir wanted to take the ring once in order to save his people, is death really the only way to atone for that when Galadriel has been power hungry for 7000 goddamn years nonstop, acquired and used her own ring of power to satisfy that power hunger and then managed to 'overcome it' at the very last minute JUST before middle-earth became 'less elven' (and therefore her position there would be less prestigeous) to demurely sail off home to a gilded cage paradise where literally all her family are alive and waiting for her. Like is 'power hunger' really the sin Boromir comitted here that he needs to die for. Is Tolkien really criticising the desire for power. Is the narrative of lotr really so cohesive and consistent as to allow you to put all the characters into good and bad little boxes and declare those categorisations infallible?

Am I making sense, is this coherent. Does it make more sense if I say like... I do not dislike Galadriel as a character, I dislike what her fandom-reputation reveals about the way the story is engaged with by and large? When I am getting heated about this or that misconception or aspect of her character, it is not because I hate she has that aspect, I like a lot of morally questionable characters, what I am railing against is the double standard that her having that trait reveals. (And I'm not even really angry about it I'm more just very activated by what it reveals about the story, like it makes me feral) The narrative loves Galadriel, Tolkien loves Galadriel, characters regularly threaten violence in order to defend Galadriel from even mild verbal criticism and no one appears to see this as a kind of ominous aspect of her when she's done very little to deserve it. Other than, of course, be ontologically 'pure' and 'divine' due entirely to the circumstances of her birth. I'm a bit manic right now so I hope literally any of that made sense.

Actually addendum example just to further affirm my point. So catholic tolkien scholars will tell you that Denethor's use of the Palantir was a sin, apparently even using a tool you have 'the right' to use to observe reality as it actually exists and then extrapolating that observation into a prediction of the future (ie seeing frodo is captured and the ring gone and extrapolating that the enemy has it and you're all doomed) is a sin. Because only god is allowed to see into the future. And this is somewhat backed up by the way characters treat Denethor's use of the Palantir, it was apparently foolhardy and bad and reckless and nebulously wrong etc. Remember, the Palantir is not a mystical artifact, it is like a satallite imaging tool + a one way video only skype.

Galadriel's mirror literally sees the future 😂LIKE? WHY DOES SHE HAVE IT? WHY IS SHE ALLOWED TO USE IT? WHY CAN SHE JUST SHOW IT TO OTHER PEOPLE? It's because she's holy!! But that doesn't mean anything about her actual character, it's just an attribute she inherited from her family and her place of birth that actively changes what her existence means entirely by it's own virtue. Imagine living in this world for a second, imagine if it was ontologically true that you (an unblessed child of eru) would never be as right or as good as Galadriel, no matter what the reality of both your actions were. LIKE. !! WOULD YOU LIKE GALADRIEL?

#chats #Anonymous #anyway #erran vs tolkien #galadriel #boromir #denethor ii #denethor

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thewistlingbadger · 22 days ago

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One of the strategies Sauron uses to get Galadriel on his side is using her own words against her. And sometimes this is successful and actually works (the Halbrand scene in S2), but there's one big time that it does NOT work and fails epically.

In the season 1 finale, Sauron repeats something that Galadriel's brother told her when she was a child. "To find the light, we must first touch the darkness." He repeats this same phrase AGAIN in season two finale. This strategy fails BOTH times, and it actually motivates her to oppose him. I believe there's two main reasons why all the other times he uses her words works and why this instance fails.

1. Sauron is misunderstanding/misinterpreting the phrase.

2. Sauron does not understand galadriel.

Sauron takes this quote WAY too literally both times he uses it. When he says this phrase, he's basically telling her to come join him, and then she'll be powerful, respected, and a lady of light. Touching the darkness means joining him, but this isn't what finrod meant. Finrod told his baby sister this piece of advice it obviously doesn't mean go side with evil and then come back. What the phrase actually means is that in order to be good, you have to know what's bad. You have to touch the darkness. Joining Sauron is not touching the darkness, it's full on manhandling it.

I think the reason he misunderstands this phrase is because of the way galadriel said it to him. Her brother tells her this to comfort and counsel his sister. Galadriel tells this to Sauron as a stranger, who's being defensive and aggressive. In the forge scene, galadriel is trying to convince him to go back to middle earth. He's very against it and they have a fight about it. Galadriel says this phrase hostily in the fight as a defense, and it COMPLETELY throws him off guard. Why? Because elves are just and proper and they're rigid in their beliefs and morality. He sees galadriel as the epitome of the light, and that idea conflicts with this phrase of moral ambiguity. This phrase in this scene is what actually plants the idea in his head that Galadriel can be turned, because she's already expressing desires for darkness. This phrase is what literally stops their argument, cools him down, and completely changes the course of their conversation. He goes from being heated to being in awe. "What do you know of darkness?" Now there's more to her than what meets the eye or the surface. Now there's something to be curious about, something worth digging and discovering. Perhaps, even a perfect compliment.

There are some things Sauron understands about galadriel, but there's so much he just doesn't understand and can't understand. What he fails to realize/recognize is the fact that Galadriel already HAS touched the darkness. Her brother's death filled her with hate and she had a thirst for revenge. She became violent and bitter and hostile. This behavior isolated herself from everyone else and she didn't care. Let her be alone but right. She lost regard for the lives of others, slaying orcs and having her own men killed whilst on her quest (we only see one elf die bc of this in s1 but it makes me wonder how many others there are). She's disobedient and prideful, only seeing herself as correct. It's so bad that the elves in Lindon are like "HELL NO send her ass home please!" So now not only is she a social outcast, but a LITERAL outcast as well! And that makes her more bitter because in her eyes, she's being punished for being right. She used Sauron and numenor to wage war because it would make her feel better, it would make her feel like she personally is doing something about the shadow over middle earth. It's only until AFTER he reveals himself that she realizes she was in the wrong.

This whole ordeal, ALL of season one WAS her touching the darkness. Season 2 is when she starts her journey to the light. She's more obedient, she takes a step back, and she turns down Sauron a second time. This is why she says the door is shut! She's not joining him, she's not going back to her old ways, she's not joining back to the dark. This time, she's actually going to be light.

I think the reason he doesn't understand this is because he's never had to make a journey to the light. Like galadriel, he started out light. Like galadriel, he was corrupted by evil. Like galadriel, he was in darkness (not to the same extent but whatever). This is where their paths diverge. After the darkness, galadriel made an effort to be good. There was no after darkness for Sauron. There was once a time where he was open to good and redemption but he didn't go for it AND galadriel didn't give it to him. He doesn't know about the journey to light because he's never had to do it.

#mic does analysis #rop #trop #the rings of power #rings of power #galadriel #sauron #saurondriel #haladriel #long post

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entishramblings · 1 year ago

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The Scorpion of Sarn Ford [Aragorn/F!Reader]

A.N: the amount of weird shit I had to google for this….my FBI agent definitely thinks I’m planning some fucked up crap.

Inspired: this fic was inspired by @estelofrivendell ‘s fic A Change of Heart. I adored the Assassin/Ranger relationship and had to put my own spin on it!

Pairing: Aragorn X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Scorpion of Sarn Forn is a notorious assassin. Much to Strider’s dismay, they are both hired for a job.

Disclaimer: I tried my best with geography, once again, it isn’t my best subject. heh!

Word count: 8.2k (idk why I’m like this)

Warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, humor that will have you peeing, blood, torture, death, murder, brief insinuation to sexual abuse (side character), creepy men that get what's coming to them, a little bit of spice, brief shirtless aragorn. this sounds very dark but I promise you its good, besides: shirtless aragorn. duh.

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

Aragorn never thought he would be in this position. He never even anticipated such a scenario. It was, quite frankly, entirely unfathomable. Not once did it cross his mind that he might be in the same city as her, much less be forced to sit next to her at The Black Falcon Tavern and Inn with a potential contractor. You see, The Scorpion of Sarn Ford—or as Aragorn preferred to refer to her as: the heinous hellspawn that middle-earth would undoubtedly be far better off without—was a notorious assassin. She made her coin from slipping into the shadows and slaughtering her targets, leaving no trace besides a corpse—still warm from the blood that once ran through it. The men of the south-west were wise enough to be wary and the rich of such lands were stupid enough to empower her with their dark wishes. She’s rumored to have a body count in the hundreds, including kings and queens. Though, that is not how she acquired her title.

Percaric Rothswood, one of the richer dukes of Anfalas, sat with them at a table in the back of the tavern. The Ranger and the Scorpion occupied the bench alongside the wooden wall, granting them both a clear vantage point of the entire establishment, while Percaric sat in a chair across from them. Aragorn's arms were folded, a small blade discreetly nestled up his sleeve, and his ale remained untouched on the table. Yet, the assassin reclined casually at his side, her dark cloak draped loosely enough to unveil the myriad of weapons adorning her attire, with two empty pints before her and a third in her hand.

The peculiar grouping drew the attention of onlookers—it was indeed an unusual gathering, particularly with the presence of the infamous Scorpion of Sarn Ford, and her form specifically beside Strider. Nervous and inquisitive gazes, hushed conversations, subtle nods, and even more overt glances from passersby and bar-sitters were all directed towards the pair. If a meeting like this were to take place, something must be going down.

“So, what’s this job, Percaric, that requires a ranger and a shrew,” Aragorn gruffed, his scowl as deep as the sand pits of the eastern coast.

The woman beside him snorted. “A shrew. Just what a lady wants to be called.”

He shrugged. “An argumentative, ill-tempered rat. I see no difference between it and you.”

She raised a brow, twisting her head to look at him. “Technically a shrew is a mole.”

Aragorn sent her a glare in response.

She huffed at him. “A mole that will die if it doesn't eat every two to three hours.” She picked up her ale and took a swing. “That sounds nothing like me.”

“You reckon so? I bet if you didn't get new gold to chew on in that exact time frame you would also die of pompous deprivation.”

A deep chuckle escaped her throat as her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. She turned to quip back an insult; however, Percaric nervously interrupted the hostile hires.

“Well, uh, you see, it's quite a delicate matter. The-the job, that is. My client doesn't want his indiscretions aired out among the common folk because, well, uh, the matter is quite sensitive and—”

Aragorn rolled his eyes. “Just spit it out, Percaric.”

The man exhaled through his nose, nervously patting the table. “Right, right, very well then.” He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, my client, his daughter was taken by someone of high prestige and, well, he would like her back.”

Aragorn leaned back in the chair. “Why doesn't he just pay the ransom then? Instead of hiring someone to take her back. There is a ransom isn't there?”

“Of course, of course. But, well, you see, this daughter, ehem, she’s bastard-born. His wife doesnt know that she exists and he would like to keep it that way. Paying the ransom directly would cause too much attention. Like I said, he wants this discreet.”

Aragorn sighed, his morals pulling hard on his heart. “How old is the girl?”

Percaric winced. “Fourteen.”

The Ranger cursed under his breath. “She’s just a kid.”

“Yes, yes. Well, you see, that’s why my client asked for you, Strider. Not many would want to help a bastard daughter.”

The Scorpion leaned in. “Then why did he ask for me as well?”

Percaric’s face twitched. “Well, uh, Scorpion, there’s a matter a bit more delicate involved that requires your skill.”

She raised her brows.

“My–my client’s daughter is quite beautiful. Well, we can only assume what is being done to her by her captor during her stay. He, well, he wants the perpetrator killed.”

She snorted, leaning back into the wall behind her. “Why not make Strider here do it?”

The Ranger clenched his jaw. “He should be imprisoned, rotting in a cell for his crime.”

“Ah,” she started. “You would bring him in instead of kill him, and that would mean a trial.” She winked at Percaric. “Too public for this client of yours.”

An anxious and awkward giggle-like breath left the man’s lips. “Precisely.”

“So, where is she being kept?” The Scorpion asked.

The duke glanced around him before leaning in and letting his next sentence come out as a whisper. “The tower of Eastemnet.”

“Eastemnet?” Aragorn confirmed, wide-eyed and surprised. “But that would mean—”

“Lord Theovail,” the assassin interjected. “One of the richest, well-guarded men in Arda.”

Percaric bit his lip. “Yes, yes. Now, well, now you see why my client asked for you, Scorpion of Sarn Ford.”

Aragorn huffed, hot air coming from his nose, as he shook his head—now finally reaching for his ale. “We will take the job,” he stated reluctantly.

“Oi! Not so fast,” the assassin interjected. “What’s the pay?”

The Ranger shot her a glare. “A girl, a child, is being held prisoner, and you worry of pay?”

She glared right back at him before turning back to Percaric. “The pay?”

He cleared his throat. “Three hundred pieces of gold up front and another three hundred upon your return of the girl, alive, and proof of Theovail’s death. Though you will have to split it, I’m afraid.”

She raised her hands with a tilt of the head. “Fine by me.” She turned, flashing a devilish grin to the man next to her. “Let us go hunt a girl-snatching arsewipe, Strider.”

He offered no-response other than a scowling side eye.

“Fantastic,” Percaric replied, taking two coin pouches out and plopping them on the table.

The assassin was quick to snatch up one of the bundles, standing, ready to take her leave.

Aragorn, however, let his finger drift over the coin. He glanced up at Percaric. “What’s her name?”

The man’s expression softened. “Calista, daughter of Lord Kassim.”

Aragorn nodded, grasping onto the pouch. “We will bring Calista home.”

……

The pair had been traveling for approximately two weeks at this point, and their interactions during this time were characterized by sparse conversations intertwined with numerous glares and disdainful expressions. In those few moments when words were exchanged, they were often heated disagreements concerning which path to follow, strategies for infiltrating the tower, or debates over the responsibilities of meals. It was, quite frankly, the most miserable trek across Arda that Aragorn had ever taken upon. But it wasn't until they were passing through the gap of Rohan, between the Misty Mountains and Ered Nimrais, that they met any trouble.

An arrow, coming from the mountain’s rocky side, whizzing past Aragorn’s ear was the first sign of danger.

He whipped his head around. “Scorpion!” he called out in warning, his eyes meeting the assassin’s for a brief moment.

She drew her dual silver blades only seconds before a small pack of goblins began descending. She was quick to behead the first goblin whose feet hit the grassy pass they walked through.

“Goblin’s from the Mountains,” she hissed.

Aragorn too drew his sword. “They shouldn't be this far south! They stay up near Ehu Daur and Moira!” He drove his blade through one of the beasts, swinging around to slice another.

“Well, clearly, they dont give a fuck as to where they should or should be!” The Scorpion quipped back as she brought one of her blades through the neck of one of the creatures. “On your left!”

Aragorn twisted his body just in time to block a blow from a rusted scythe.

The assassin dodged the next beast that came at her and sprinted towards the biggest one. She was quick to push herself into the air, flip over the goblin, and slice its throat before her feet even landed on the ground.

She looked up to see the two final goblins, one in match with her companion and the other approaching his back.

The woman moved quickly. Her feet carried her towards the beast who held its blade above Strider’s head. Just before it was to be brought downward, she yelled out a war cry and grasped onto the few hairs the creature had. She yanked hard. The goblin fell backwards onto the ground and she pounced on top of him, sending her blade through his heart—his pungent blood spraying across her face, neck, tunic, and leather armor.

With heavy panting breath, she stood and turned to face the Ranger who had slayed the final beast. Kicking the corpse of the one she had just killed, she spoke. “Only nine. A scouting team. More will be coming upon their lack of return. We gotta get a move on.”

Aragorn’s lips were parted in surprise, realizing that he nearly lost his life. Surprising the assassin, he spoke words that she never would have thought to leave his lips for her. “Thank you, Scorpion.”

She raised her brows. “I have a name, you know, Strider.”

The Ranger turned away from her, continuing along their path. “I don't care to know it,” he gruffed out, his brief sincerity from moments before disappearing.

She snorted, calling out to him regardless. “It’s (Y/N).”

“Don’t fall behind, Scorpion,” he replied.

She huffed, her irritation obvious, before jogging to catch up with his wide strides. “I don’t like you very much either, but if we're gonna be on this job for a while, you could at least not be a dick.”

“Coming from the rudest and most corrupt person I have ever met, that's rich.”

She chuckled loudly. “Wow. Rude, okay, I deserve that. But corrupt? That’s a bit far-fetched.”

He stopped walking, twisting to glower down at her with disgust. “You truly think so? Let’s talk of why they attach the massacre of Sarn Ford to your name. You killed dozens. Women. Children. Innocents. All for what? Gold! Corrupt is too kind a word for you. Wicked, diabolical, vicious is more like it.”

(Y/N)’s brows shot upward as a pained and frustrated laugh thundered in her chest. “Really? Do you even know what was happening in Sarn Ford?!”

“They were farmers! Common folk! Living off the land in peace and you…you slaughtered them!” he yelled.

She got in his face, her hot, angry breath burning against his skin. “THEY WERE ALREADY GOOD AS DEAD, STRIDER!”

“How could you even say that?” he replied, horrified.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, before focusing back on the man before her. “A disease was making its way through their village. Incurable. Painful. An alchemist, who had been working for weeks to try and find anything to help them, hired me. There was nothing to be done for them except extend a hand of mercy. To give them a good, painless death.”

Aragorn stared at her, his brows pulled together with shock in his gaze.

The assassin clenched her jaw. “I had mothers plead with me to end their child's life while cradled in their arms, only to follow them into death. At least, that way, they could die together.” She looked up at him, her tone privy with rage. “So, yes, Strider, feel free to bestow upon me any epithet you see fit."

He was silent, his shock radiating into the wind around him. Quietly, he spoke again, “How did you not get sick?”

She exhaled slowly. “The alchemist instructed me to wear cloth over my face and cover all skin but my eyes. Once the deed was done, I burned everything I wore and paid for new clothes with gold born of their suffering.”

Aragorn nodded slowly, compassion in his gray eyes. “I am sorry. Doing such a thing mustn't have been easy. It was an execution of mercy.” He turned, continuing once more. “Though the tales of your other kills aren't so kind. Come along, Scorpion. There’s a town a couple days ahead.”

(Y/N) snorted, anger seething in her bones, but followed him nonetheless.”

…..

The pair strode towards the Inn, located not far from Gondor’s borders. They forcefully pulled the door open, unveiling a noisy uproar of laughter and boisterous shouting, mingling with the lovely odors of urine, sweat, and stagnant ale. Creating such an environment, one the Scorpion and Ranger were used to, were the disheveled bodies of inebriated men.

With a mischievous grin, (Y/N) expertly navigated through the crowd, leading Strider to a secluded table nestled in a dim corner. It wasn't long before the arrival of steaming platters of meat and bread arrived, along with two pints of foamy ale, both of which they heartily devoured. The Scorpion raised her hand, beckoning the barmaid over and placing an order for two more pints—both of which she downed, much to Aragorn's evident disapproval.

After releasing a loud belch, she casually swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, then rose to her feet. “Gonna go get some air,” she grumbled, her balance momentarily unsteady as she gained her footing. Aragorn, in response, merely offered an exasperated roll of his eyes.

The assassin maneuvered through the bustling throng of men, slipping through the sea of people before pushing through the doors. The sudden rush of frigid tranquility enveloped her skin as she stepped into the embrace of the night. With a deliberate intake of breath, she allowed the crisp air to fill her lungs. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she tilted her head upwards, letting the misting drizzle of rain kiss her skin. The sound of the tavern was muffled, and the echoes of the celebration they passed down the road drifted into the air. Though it was subtle, for it didn't drown out the sounds of the singing crickets or the croaking frogs. It was peaceful. Well, that is until a form slammed into her and pressed her against the wall.

The smell of ale-laden breath and sticky sweat filled her nostrils as her eyes shot open. Her gaze, fueled by adrenaline, locked onto the burly figure before her—a man with a rugged orange beard—who had forced himself upon her.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in a dangerous place like this?” he asked, a knife held to her throat.

She snarled up at him. “Oh, you're about to find out—”

Before she could make a move, however, the man was suddenly struck from the side, his body sent sprawling onto the weathered, muddy path.

As (Y/N) peeled herself from the wall, her hand instinctively reached for the slight gash on her neck. Meanwhile, the bearded man found himself seized by the throat, forcefully hoisted upward, and pressed hard against the unyielding stone.

“Do you even know who that is?” Strider uttered sharply.

A chuckle escaped the lips of the man, his bloodied lip spraying a fine mist of red onto Aragorn's face. “You’re whore?” he sneered.

With an unrelenting grip on the man's throat, Aragorn pulled him several inches away from the wall, only to slam him back against it once more. The impact elicited a grunt from the man. "The Scorpion of Sarn Ford," Aragorn hissed through clenched teeth, his voice seething with restrained fury.

The assailant’s laughter was dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah and I'm the fuckin’ King of Gondor.”

The Ranger clenched his jaw, ignoring the secret dig the man's comment produced. “You know why they call her that? Hmm. The Scorpion? Scorpions incapacitate their prey with venom, paralyzing them before they deal the final blow. That woman over there? She severs her targets’ spinal nerve, rendering them unable to move before subjecting them to her torture and kill. And the worst part? She doesn't even need them paralyzed. She gets off from witnessing the terror in their eyes as they're rendered helpless.”

Another laugh escaped the man, but as his gaze shifted towards (Y/N), his amusement faded. The assassin now held a dagger, twirling it in her fingers, a sinister grin stretching across her features.

He turned to look back at Aragorn, the color now drained from his face. “Ye’ c-cant be serious,” he stammered.

The Ranger merely lifted his brows and tilted his head.

Driven by desperation to escape the woman beside them, the man started to shove against Aragorn. However, a single forceful punch to his jaw rendered him unconscious, his body collapsing onto the mud once more.

“I had it handled,” the assassin stated.

Aragorn shot her a stern glare before responding bluntly, "Sure, you did."

The woman emitted a snort, yet settled into a squat beside the man, her dagger poised.

The Ranger, however, was quick to grab her by the wrist, successfully stopping her actions. "Are you out of your mind? We can't kill him. That's the last thing we need – drawing attention to ourselves."

With a huff of mild exasperation, she sheathed her blade. "Fine." She then nodded to the black horse tethered nearby, gesturing with a nod. "That's his horse. Saw him dismount as we entered. Bring it here."

Aragorn frowned, confused, but did as she asked.

“Alright,” she stated, gathering the man’s arms in her hands. “Help me with his legs.”

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Strider, just grab his damn legs.”

Exhaling audibly, the Ranger complied, reluctantly gripping the man's ankles. With a coordinated heave, they hoisted the man up from the muck. After a few groans and sighs, he was draped over his horse's back.

The Scorpion then took the leather strapping of the saddle and began binding the man’s hands and feet to it. She nodded to the young maple tree behind the Ranger. “Get me a large twig from that. Bout a foot tall. Keep the leaves on it.”

“What?” he hissed, his hands spreading wide in a gesture of bewilderment.

“Strider, would you just get the branch,” she urged impatiently.

Another loud, reluctant exhale left his lips, yet he trudged toward the tree and pulled off what she requested. He approached her, holding out the twig.

“Ah, thank you,” she acknowledged with a grin, accepting it from him.

With that she moved to the side of the horse, close to the man's legs. She seized the waistband of his trousers and gave it a yank, reaving his bare ass.

“Scorpion,” Aragorn chided.

Undeterred, she grinned, sticking the small branch between his ass cheeks so it stood upright, its leaves rustling faintly in the breeze.

“Seriously?” he gruffed out, his arms crossed.

(Y/N) looked at him with a wicked smirk. “You hear that party still going on down the road? I think they would appreciate some impromptu entertainment.” With that, she smacked the horse's rear and, with a brisk snort, it took off down the path.

Not even a minute passed, when they heard the shouts of anger and amusement funneling from the gathering.

Strider turned to glare at her, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning with irritation. He grasped onto her bicep and pulled her towards the doors. "Get inside the damned tavern, quickly."

A loud, hearty laugh flew from her throat, yet she allowed him to pull her along.

Engulfed once again in the clamorous atmosphere of the inn, Aragorn wasted no time in steering her towards the bar. “You can't just put a branch up the arsehole of a person that pisses you off,” he hissed under his breath.

She grinned unapologetically. “Sure, I can.”

He blew hot air out his nose, opting to withhold a retort. With a determined demeanor, he maneuvered them through the crowd of men, navigating as close to the counter as he could get. "Barkeep," he called out, projecting his voice. "Two room keys."

The man approached them with a shrug. “Only got one room left.”

Aragorn huffed. “Fine. Well take it.”

With that, the Ranger deposited three gold coins into the man's palm, secured the key, and then swiftly tugged the Scorpion alongside him as they grabbed their bags and ascended the creaky wooden staircase.

They approached their door, marked the same as the key, and it swung open under Aragorn’s touch. Within, the room exuded a chill darkness, accompanied by a faint draft slipping in through the slightly cracked window. The space appeared quite sparse, furnished with nothing but a small dresser, a modest table accompanied by two chairs...and a solitary bed.

A muttered curse escaped the Ranger's lips as he unceremoniously dropped his bag onto the table. "I'll take the floor."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Really, Strider? It’s the one night we get the option of having a bed. As long as you stay on your side, I don't mind sharing.”

“Fine,” was his gruff response.

With that, the pair began getting comfortable for the night. Aragorn lit the worn down candle, its feeble golden glow illuminating the area, proving slightly better light as he dug through his bag. Meanwhile, (Y/N) shed her cloak and vast assortment of weapons, earning a skeptical glance from the Ranger. Yet, when she began to unfasten the tightly-worn leather armor that clung to her figure, his reaction was far more dramatic. "What on earth is that stench?!" he blurted out, recoiling.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Remember those goblins? Yeah, I got an unexpected bath in their blood.”

“That was days ago. You reek,” he retorted. He strode over to the dresser, opening drawers until he came across a gray towel. Returning to the table, he picked up the pitcher beside the candle and gradually poured water into a small basin, also provided. After submerging the towel and wringing it out, he flung the damp cloth towards her, which she easily caught. “Clean yourself up.”

She shrugged once more. Turning away, she shed her shirt and let it drop to the floor. Her swift movements were focused as she wiped her face, neck, and chest, cleansing her skin of the grime that clung to it.

Though Aragorn didn't intend to look, his gaze inadvertently flicked towards her silhouette against the wall. It was then that his eyes fixed upon her bare back, adorned with a network of vivid, angry scars. He’d seen scars like that. He knew what they were from: torture.

“(Y/N),” he whispered sincerely, his steps leading him closer to her form. “What happened?”

Hearing her name for the first time from his lips, she was caught off guard—her heart skipping a beat. The simple utterance carried an unexpected weight, a rare vulnerability that seemed to momentarily freeze her in place. Uncertainty gripped her as she stood still, her mind racing to process the unfamiliar tone from him.

His touch was tender as he raised his hand to trace the lines on her skin. “Who did this to you?” he growled.

Brought back to the present, she instinctively recoiled from his touch. "I'm an assassin. I've earned my fair share of enemies," she replied, her voice tinged with defiance. Shifting her gaze over her shoulder, she met his eyes. "Have an extra shirt? Mine's beyond saving."

"I, uh, yes. Yes, of course," Aragorn responded, seeming to realize the sudden intimacy of the moment. He retreated to his bag, rifling through its contents until he procured a cream-colored tunic. He tossed it to her. "This should suffice."

“Thanks,” she grumbled, pulling it over her head.

(Y/N) approached the table, the Ranger's shirt engulfing her smaller frame. The fabric's loose drape hung off her shoulder. If she wasn't such a menace, Aragorn would have thought that she looked cute in his clothes.

Ungracefully, she deposited the damp towel on the tabletop before proceeding to yank off her boots and socks, placing them with a deliberate thud upon the chair nearby. “We are not that far from the tower of Eastemnet. Perhaps a two day journey or so. However, our predicament remains unchanged: we don't have a solid strategy. We don't have any floor plans. We don't know how many guards will be stationed. And we don't know where the girl is being kept. We are gonna be going in blind—”

“You’re bleeding,” he interjected, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of concern.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just a scratch,” she dismissed casually.

Aragorn grasped onto her jaw, lifting her chin up to take a better look. "A seemingly insignificant wound could easily become infected, Scorpion," he asserted, his tone insistent.”

She pulled her head from his grasp with a snort. “I’m fine, Strider.”

He crossed his arms, an unyielding resolve in his expression. “If we are breaking into Lord Theovail’s tower and stealing from him, I'd prefer my partner not succumb to infection-induced delirium, potentially endangering both our lives." Swiftly, he nudged the empty chair towards her. “Now, sit down, Scorpion.”

(Y/N)’s brows lifted, followed by a teasing expression that animated her features. “Oh? So I'm your partner now?” she quipped, her tone laced with playful amusement. "What happened to the 'vicious shrew killer that you would rather leave tied to a tree,' as I seem to recall you once calling me?"

He glared at her. “Sit, or I will leave you tied to a tree.”

Surprisingly, she did as he asked, allowing herself to sink into the chair with her legs casually sprawled and her arms folded tightly across her chest. Aragorn dug through his bag, pulling out a couple small tins and a tiny glass bottle. Grasping the towel, he located a clean section and dipped it into the basin. Squatting down between her legs, he lifted the towel to her neck. "Chin up," he instructed, and she obeyed without protest. Gently, he began cleansing the wound, meticulously removing dirt and debris from the area. Next, he uncapped the small glass bottle. "This might sting," he warned.

She clenched her jaw, but said nothing as the alcohol was poured upon her neck. Aragorn gently dabbed the liquid away. He then opened one of the small tins, extracting a dollop of green goo.

“What is that shit?” (Y/N) asked.

“Athelas leaf paste.”

“Athelas leaf?” she echoed, seeking further clarification.

“Kingsfoil. Athelas is the elvish word for it,” he replied simply, his attention focused on gently applying the paste to the wound.

She raised her eyebrows. “Elvish, huh. You're full of surprises, Strider. Where’d ya learn that?”

“Shush. Be still.”

The Scorpion rolled her eyes, but complied as he completed the task.

Standing up, Aragorn rinsed his hands and addressed her once more. "We can devise a plan for the tower tomorrow. Right now, we need rest."

(Y/N) sighed, nodding in agreement, as she too stood. She made her way towards the bed and pulled back the thin sheet, eager to climb into the softness of a mattress—regardless of how old and worn it was.

The gentle sound of air extinguishing the candle was succeeded by the enveloping darkness that reclaimed the room. Soon, Aragorn’s footsteps followed. She discerned the rustle of fabric as, presumably, he removed his shirt. The bed then creaked gently as he settled beside her, lying on his back.

She, resting on her side away from him, let her eyes close. There she laid, for a moment, before shifting. Then she shifted again. And again.

“Stop moving, Scorpion,” Aragorn grumbled, his patience waning.

“I can’t get comfortable!” she retorted.

“That’s because you keep moving.”

“It’s cold and you're stealing all the blankets.” With a determined tug, she seized more of the fabric, leaving Aragorn with a minimal share.

He merely exhaled audibly, opting for a wordless response. At the very least, she had ceased her constant fidgeting.

Aragorn remained awake during the initial hours, unable to find slumber. (Y/N)'s breathing had swiftly settled into a rhythmic pattern after she commandeered the majority of the sheets, though her small unconscious movements kept interrupting the perceived tranquility. Occasional, soft whimpers escaped her lips, her brows furrowing with evident distress. In truth, Aragorn found himself uncertain of how to respond. He held onto the hope that the disturbances would cease on their own, perhaps that whatever troubled her dreams would eventually pass. And eventually, it did stop, but not without an unexpected turn of events.

The Ranger's senses jolted as the Scorpion’s frigid form rolled towards his side of the bed, seeking refuge in his warmth. Although she had mentioned feeling cold earlier, the intensity of her chill surprised him. The wave of uncertainty that washed over him did not leave as her cheek pressed against his bare chest. Initially, the thought of infection taking hold crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it; her skin would have been hot to the touch if that were the case. It only took seconds for him to realize that the draft from the cracked window was striking her side directly. With a sigh of reluctance, he tentatively encircled his arm around her, drawing her in further.

In her state of deep slumber, she instinctively nestled into him, drawing a slight skip from Aragorn's heart. He cast a cautious gaze downward, taking in her appearance.

She seemed so different—distinctly separate from the notorious assassin he knew her to be. There was an innocence, an unexpected purity, about her in this moment that rendered her almost unrecognizable. Gone was the perpetual scowl that often marked her features. Instead, her face had relaxed into a gentle expression of repose, free from the tension. Her lips, adorned with the faintest hint of a pout, moved slightly as she drew each breath, almost as if he warded off the nightmares that had plagued her.

In this vulnerable state, the Scorpion seemed untainted by her reputation, stripped of her fearsome persona. The layers of her identity, usually shrouded in crude comments and sharp weapons, had fallen away. It revealed that the facade that she showed the world was just that, a facade. A good one at that though. Even Aragorn—a man well-acquainted with the intricacies of human nature—hadn't thought it would be a mask; but her story of Sarn Ford was the first thing that revealed its possibility to him. It was as if the walls she kept built had crumbled away, allowing him a glimpse of the person beneath the lies. And, until sleep claimed him, he allowed himself to savor this glimpse—to see her beyond the assassin.

When the first light of dawn began to filter in, (Y/N) stirred, wrapped in the warmth and safety that had cocooned her during the night. She hesitated to peel open her eyelids, savoring the sensation. However, as her senses roused to full awareness, a gentle yet distinct rhythm reached her ears—the steady thud of a heart beating beneath her. In an instant, her eyes shot open, and a surge of apprehension raced through her.

Beneath her, Strider's form lay, his chest rising and falling in slumber. Anxiety tightened her chest and clawed at her throat. Reacting instinctively, she sat up abruptly and, fueled by adrenaline, threw a punch at him.

A resounding groan of pain escaped his lips as he scrambled to sit up, his expression twisting in both surprise and discomfort. "What the hell, Scorpion?!" he managed to sputter, his hand instinctively reaching to dab at his lip.

“I thought I told you to stay on your side of the bed!” she retorted sharply.

He glared at her, his irritation obvious. “I did. If you would take a moment to observe your surroundings, you would see you are in fact on my side of the bed.”

Wide-eyed and perplexed, she twisted her upper body around, casting a glance over her shoulder. As the reality of the situation dawned on her, she faced him once more. Her eyes filtered over his form briefly, taking in his muscled biceps and defined abs. Her expression then turned into a deeper scowl. “Fuck off!” she snapped.

He only stared at her, bewildered.

….

Under the shroud of darkness, the Ranger and the Assassin stood at the base of the tower of Eastemnet on the south side. Concealed within the protective embrace of the tree line, they had spent approximately three hours observing the guards' patterns and identifying vulnerabilities in the tower's defenses. There they had hidden two steeds that (Y/N) had procured for them at the inn—most likely through theft, though Aragorn didn't want to think of that—allowing for a quick escape with Calista. Strategically, they discreetly knocked out all the guards on the outposts, binding and gagging them, for they knew the element of surprise would be their only bet. So, now they stood, with a pretty loose plan, ready to steal back what Lord Theovail had taken.

The Scorpion grasped onto the vine that entwined itself along the stone surface of the tower. A swift, assessing tug confirmed its stability. Her gaze shifted briefly to the man positioned behind her. “About two hundred feet to the top. Best guess, that’s where Calista is being held.”

He nodded. “After you.”

The Scorpion adjusted her grip upon the vine and she initiated her ascent. Aragorn doing the same only minutes after.

They moved in a synchronized rhythm, the sound of their breaths and the faint rustling of vines mingling with the night's stillness. Each handhold and foothold was chosen with precision, the texture of the stone under their fingertips guiding their progress.

(Y/N)’s movements were fluid and practiced, evidence to her agility and experience. Her lithe form seemed to dance with the contours of the tower, making it look easy. Aragorn, not as accustomed to such endeavors, displayed a determination that rivaled his unease. His powerful muscles flexed and strained as he pulled himself upward, his eyes never straying far from the path she took.

After what felt like hours, the assassin spoke. “Nearly there, just a couple more feet.”

Aragorn only grunted in response.

The woman firmly gripped the vine adjacent to the windowsill, positioning her feet against the wall in a manner resembling a vertical walk. This facilitated her upward movement as she pulled herself closer to the window. Yet, as her head reached the level of the glass, she swiftly withdrew, instinctively lowering herself. In an unfortunate circumstance, the unconventional stance she maintained resulted in her ass colliding with Aragorn's face.

He groaned. “Really, Scorpion?! Really?!”

“My bad,” she huffed out. “Hold on a second. I think someone is in there.”

“Yeah, hopefully Calista.”

She resumed her ascent, then promptly lowered herself again. This time, Aragorn effectively maneuvered his head to the side, evading her buttocks.

Regardless of this, he shot her a glare—not that she would be able to see it.

“It was a maid.” she whispered. “I think we are in the clear now.”

With that, she heaved herself up for a final time and reached for the dagger strapped to her thigh. “Duck your head,” she commanded. With as much force as she could muster, she brought the blade against the glass, tucking her face into her elbow. It shattered, falling around them both like deadly snow.

The Scorpion pulled herself upward and through the window, careful not to be pierced by any stray piece of glass, and Aragorn did the same.

The room was small, but decorated to the extreme. The prominent feature was the bed, elevated upon a platform, its tall wooden posts adorned with a luxurious velvet canopy that cascaded in graceful drapes. The mattress was covered in ornate blankets and quilts, complemented by an array of plush pillows. However, any semblance of beauty was starkly contradicted by the grim sight of chains extending from the wall and ensnaring the wrists of a young girl, shattering the room's facade of luxury.

Immediately, Aragorn ran towards her side. “Calista,” he murmured gently. “Wake up. It’s time to go.”

Calista's golden hair framed a face that appeared worn and defeated. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a gaze void of life. Her voice emerged as a feeble whisper. "Who are you?" she inquired softly.

Standing steadfast in the center of the room, (Y/N) maintained her posture with crossed arms. Her unwavering gaze fixed on the imposing wooden door that likely remained locked from the other side. “Your father sent us.”

Aragorn carefully manipulated the cuffs that bound Calista's wrists, gingerly freeing her from their constricting hold. "I'm Strider," he introduced himself, his fingers working skillfully. "We're here to help. Come.”

As if entranced, Calista began to sit up, struggling to rise from the bed. Aragorn extended his support, assisting her onto the floor. However, her weak frame proved too fragile to sustain itself. She leaned unsteadily against him, her body unable to bear its own weight.

The Ranger looked to his partner. “She’s too weak. There's no way I can scale down the wall with her on my back. She won't have the strength to hold on."

The Scorpion uttered a quiet curse. “You will just have to come with me to find Theovail.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. We can't bring her near him.”

“Well, we don't have any other choice,” she snapped. “But as soon as I kill him, we will have to haul ass. His guard will be coming for us then—if they don't already know we are here.”

Aragorn clenched his jaw, inhaling deeply. “Fine. Get that door open.”

With that, the Scorpion set to work picking the lock and Aragorn scooped Calista up in his arms, her golden head nestled into his chest. It wasn't long before the group was creeping down the tower, level by level. The Scorpion led the way, ducking behind walls and maneuvering around pillars, making sure the way was clear. When they came across a guard that was blocking their escape, she was quick to slice his throat and pull his body out of sight.

“Scorpion, why you can't just knock them out?” Aragorn whispered with exasperation.

She, dropping his legs as she stuffed him into a closet, glared at him. “And risk having him wake up and alert others? I think not."

He huffed, knowing she was right.

However, their path forward soon encountered a challenge they couldn't evade as easily. Just as they were on the verge of turning a corner, a young maid's panicked voice pierced the air. “The-the girl. She’s gone!”

(Y/N) slammed her back against the stone wall, Aragorn doing the same.

“What do you mean ‘she’s gone’??!” A deep male voice thundered.

A shared realization passed between (Y/N) and Aragorn—Lord Theovail had now entered the fray.

“FIND HER!” he snapped. “Or it will be your head!”

The servant scurried down the hall, running right past the Ranger and Assassin who slunk into the shadows with their charge.

(Y/N) cautiously peered around the corner. The room before them was every bit as lavish as the one that had imprisoned Calista, if not more so. A roaring fire crackled in the grand fireplace, casting flickering shadows that danced across the two plush velvet couches by it. Luxurious fur blankets adorned each sofa, hinting at Theovail’s rich indulgence. A sprawling fur carpet lay before the fireplace, while an ornate wine cart laden with deep reds was conveniently placed nearby. And there, infuriated, stood Lord Theovail himself, a glass of crimson liquid in hand, his temper fuming. To make matters worse, his guards were positioned near the room's exit—the very door that Aragorn would need to pass through in order to escape with Calista.

The Scorpion drew her knife, sending Aragorn a look. It was time. In a hushed tone, she whispered to him. “When you hear it’s over, take her and run to the doors. I'll be right behind you.”

He nodded in agreement.

She then disappeared into the shadows. Not even a minute passed before Aragorn heard the thumping of two bodies, one right after the other, followed by the telltale crash of a shattering wine glass meeting the floor.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Lord Theovail’s voice thundered, a mix of surprise and outrage lacing his words.

Aragorn cautiously peered around the corner, his heart pounding. Lord Theovail was now a whirlwind of fury and frustration, his gaze darting in every direction and a knife clutched in his hand. “I am not one to indulge in games!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber as he brandished the blade. “Reveal yourself, you coward!”

Within seconds, the Scorpion’s blade was poised menacingly at Lord Theovail's throat, her grip firm and unwavering as she held him in check from behind. Her voice dripped with a sinister malice as she spoke, her words slithering through the air like a venomous serpent. “Lord Kassim sends his regards.”

A broad chuckle bubbled from Theovail's lips, mingling with a mix of disbelief and arrogance. “A woman?! Kassim sends a woman to kill me?!”

Aragorn watched as the assassin drew another blade from her lethal arsenal, the steel glinting in the dim light. He winced inwardly, knowing what was about to unfold. In one swift, calculated motion, the Scorpion's blade found its mark, slicing deeply into Theovail's spine. The lord's body crumpled to the floor, staining the pristine white fur carpet with a gruesome red pool. His once-commanding presence now reduced to stillness. Though his eyes, wide and drifting in panic, showed his fear.

She then sat on top of him, bringing the blade to his neck once more. The Scorpion's lips curled into a chilling grin, her eyes alight with a dark satisfaction. “Not just any woman. You ever hear of The Scorpion of Sarn Ford?”

Instantly, a tidal wave of horror engulfed Theovail's blue gaze, his previously defiant demeanor shattered like the fragile glass of Calista’s window.

He knew the legend. He knew there was no escape for him.

However, at that moment, a large, burly guard burst in. Seeing what was unfolding, he was at his Lord’s assistance in a flash. His hand grasped onto the assassin’s hair, yanking her form from Theovail.

Aragorn clenched his jaw, giving her a moment before he intervened.

The collision sent shards of glass and splintered wood flying as the guard and the Scorpion crashed into the wine cart, locked in a fierce struggle. The guard, towering in his size, managed to regain his footing first and hauled the Scorpion up with him. His meaty fists struck out, landing brutal blows that drew crimson from her nose and brow.

The Ranger cursed. Quickly, he sat Calista upon the ground and rushed to his partner's aid. Unsheathing his blade, he lunged into the fray. His sword found its mark in the guard's back, the steel emerging through the man's stomach. Time seemed to freeze as the guard's bloodied gaze locked with the Scorpion's, a moment charged with shock and shared disbelief. The guard crumpled to the ground, revealing Aragorn.

With a swift motion, Aragorn twisted his blade downward and reached out to grasp the Scorpion's face, his hands marked by a blend of relief and fear. The touch, both tender and urgent, brought her gaze to his. Blood marked one cheek, while the other felt the cool press of his blade's hilt against her skin. His deep voice, a mixture of anxiety and care, called out her name. "(Y/N)," he stated, the word a lifeline that pierced through her dazed state.

"(Y/N)," he spoke once more, the urgency remaining. “Are you alright?”

She blinked, forcing a response. “Yes, yes. I'm fine.”

Aragorn released a sigh of relief, yet his hand remained for another heartbeat, a reassurance in the form of touch. "Take care of Theovail. I will get Calista," he instructed, his hands finally and reluctantly withdrawing as he moved to tend to their young charge.

The rest was a blur: (Y/N) slicing Theovail’s throat and grabbing his ruby ring, Aragorn hauling Calista into his arms, and the trio racing down the tower's corridors—fending off any obstacle that dared to stand in their path. Adrenaline drove them to the treeline, panting breath heavy and loud, as they climbed upon their horses and took off into the night—leaving behind the bloody assassination of the Lord of the Eastemnet Tower.

…..

Weeks later, at three in the morning, the trio stumbled into The Black Falcon Tavern, where they first met with Percaric. The establishment was eerily quiet, save for the slumbering figure of the barkeep, who had succumbed to the late hour with his head on the counter. At the far end of the room, Percaric and Calista's mother stood, their figures illuminated by a flickering candle on the table. An air of anxious anticipation clung to the atmosphere.

As soon as their feet crossed the threshold, that stillness was disturbed. Calista's voice pierced the quiet as she called out to her mother, her strength visibly renewed since the ordeal. Without hesitation, mother and daughter closed the distance between themselves, embracing as if they had been torn apart for eternity. Tears flowed freely, mingling sorrow with joy. The warmth of their reunion dispelled the darkness that had clouded their lives.

Percaric approached the Scorpion and the Ranger.

The assassin tossed the man Lord Theovail’s ring. “Proof of death,” she stated bluntly. “I was gonna bring you his head, but figured it would smell pretty rotten after the long journey.”

He nodded awkwardly, the thought making him feel ill. He took a quick moment to examine the ring. Seemingly satisfied, he spoke. “You did well. Lord Kassim sends his thanks.” He then tossed them both pouches of gold before turning back to the mother and daughter. As Percaric prepared to take Calista and her mother back home, he turned back to the two rescuers. His voice carried a sentiment with his words. "Thank you."

Aragorn's silent nod and the Scorpion's subtle acknowledgment conveyed their understanding and their shared commitment to a world that often demanded their sacrifice.

With that, Percaric, Calista, and her mother left the inn, leaving the assassin and the ranger alone.

“Well,” (Y/N) began, as she walked towards the snoring barkeep and leaned over the counter, fishing for the room keys. “I don't know about you, but I could do with a good night’s rest.” She pulled the ring from his waist and turned back to Aragorn. Holding it up, one key dangling, her grin faded. “You're kidding, right?” She shook her head with a huff but turned and made her way to the rickety stairs. “As long as you stay on your side of the bed this time, Strider—”

“Scorpion,” he interrupted as he followed her.

The wood creaked under her feet. “I am serious. Keep yourself in check—”

“Scorpion.”

“I will not hesitate to paralyze you—”

“(Y/N)!”

She froze upon the stairs, slowly turning to look at him on the step directly below her. Now they stood at the same height, face to face, only inches away from each other.

“You almost died out there,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing against her skin.

“Yeah, so did you. It happens,” she shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

“(Y/N),” he persisted.

“What?!”

With that, he grasped onto her face, his finger warm and calloused from the lifetime of travel and battle. Time seemed to freeze as the moment lingered, the air changing between them.

And then, his lips were on hers.

At first, a sense of uncertainty held her still, her mind grappling to comprehend the sudden intimacy. But as his touch deepened and the kiss became a dance, she surrendered to the moment. Her fingers found their way into his hair, tangling themselves among the dark waves, as her lips moved with just as much force—if not more—as his. He tasted of pine and fresh soil, she wast sure if she quite literally was consuming the dirt upon his face, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop herself from becoming enthralled by his lips.

“Scorpion,” he mumbled against her mouth.

She hummed a reply as her lips continued to move with his.

“Room. Now,” he practically growled.

She grinned, her teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Make me.”

Aragorn pulled away from her, raising his brow with a smirk. With that, he grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her up. Her mouth found his again as he stumbled up the stairs, ignorant to the barkeep who woke and was now squinting at the pair.

“The Scorpion and Strider,” the old man huffed. “The boys aren't gonna believe this one.”

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