#after he hears the queen has given birth to a monster

[countrymusiclover]

32 - Tiny bit of Hope

Part 33

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @1not-today-satan1

Tyrion’s pov

Laying on my bed on my back I held up my mothers ring in between my fingers.  My wedding to the Stark girl had come and gone.  I had basically given her space to adjust to the marriage or at least that’s what I had told her after I didn’t share her bed. 

Rolling out of the bed I slipped the ring box back in its hiding spot underneath the mattress before leaving my chambers.  I eventually found the young Stark girl sitting out by the water with an untouched table of food in front of her.  Slowly sitting down I reached for her hand but she drew it away before we could touch. “Lady Sansa, I can’t let you starve.  I swore to protect you - my lady, I am your husband.  Let me help you.” 

“How can you help me?” Sansa asked me keeping her gaze on the lemon cakes sitting on the table. 

Focusing my gaze on her face I declared softly.  “I don’t know but I can try.” 

“I lie awake all night staring at the canopy.” She sucked in a very shaky breath, clutching her hands into fists in her lap. 

Throwing out the first thought that came to my mind I suggested hopeful that it may help her.  She hadn’t had an easy life since my family had arrived at Winterfell and I wanted to fix what little I could.  “I can get you essence of Nightshade to help you sleep.” 

“That’s not what I want.” 

Putting my arms on the table I leaned forward waiting to hear her next response.  “What do you want, Sansa?  If it’s within my power I’ll give it to you.” 

“I want to know about my brother Robb and the rest of my family that I have left.” She shifted her head so she was actually looking me in the eye, sniffing through some tears and watery eyes.  “Ever since my father was executed I haven’t been told anything.  I need to know if my family is even still alive or am I just being left in the dark about their fates.” 

I quickly responded back to her.  “They’re alive, my lady.” 

“How do you know that for certain?  Forgive me, but I don’t know if you are telling me the truth or are you just lying to me.” Sansa’s face lit up with a glimmer of hope appearing across her features. 

Pushing my chair away from the table I rose to my feet offering my hand out to her.  “Come with me and I’ll show you what I mean because they are in fact alive.” 

“Okay.” Sansa allowed me to tug her up and out of the chair and dragged her upstairs into my chambers.  Shutting the heavy door I locked it behind her then crawled underneath my bed and drug out a heavy small crate where I secretly kept all my letters from Chezney.  “Who are the letters from?”

Handing her the small stack of letters I sat down on the bed mattress.  “Do you remember the woman my brother was betrothed to -  well the woman he was wed to has a handmaiden who is her best friend.  Her best friend’s name is Chezney Ally and I’ve been secretly writing letters to her for the whole war.” 

“She’s not of noble birth though.  Aren’t you worried that the Queen or someone will find out about these?” Sansa questions carefully reading over the folded pieces of paper. 

Rubbing the back of my neck I sucked in a very nervous manner.  “If I worried about how my sister would react I wouldn’t ever do anything I wanted in my life.  But I must admit that I don’t wish for anyone to hurt her.  Chezney is the only person who’s never viewed me as a little monster.” 

“I’m starting to not see you as a monster too.”  Sansa gave me a weak look still holding onto the letters. 

She gently handed them back to me before I spoke my next words.  “Thank you, my lady.  I just hope that nothing bad comes of her.” What he didn’t know was that the woman he loved was about to do the best she could to negotiate with a King. 

Chezney's pov 

The familiarity of living from camp to camp was starting to become the only thing I have ever known rather than living at Driftmark castle.  Margaery and I had been strolling the grounds for a few hours before we finally stopped.  She held open the tent flap for me nudging her head for me to enter in first.  “Here’s my tent.  You can go in first.” 

“Wait, I don't understand.  You don't share a tent with your husband.  Because I thought that was the tradition given it's what my friend Haelesa and Robb do.” 

She lowered her gaze down to the dirt briefly.  “What I am about to tell you must be kept secret.  Can you swear you won't say anything?” 

“I swear it.” I responded simply. 

The Tyrell girl sat down on the edge of the bed clasping her hands together.  She silently stared at me for a brief moment before she began speaking the secret she had wished to share with me.  “My husband and I don't share a bed because he is gay.  He finds enjoyment in bedding my brother more than anyone else.  So our marriage is all for show and to keep the alliance with the lord's loyal to my house and name.” 

“That doesn't sound like an enjoyable life for you.  How do you cope with that reality?” 

Maragery tucked some locks of hair behind her ear.  “It's difficult.  I am hoping to have a friend or two to make my circumstances better.” 

“Well me and Haelesa could be your friends if you want.” 

Maragery spared me a bright smile.  “I must confess it has been great getting to talk to you.  You and your friend have quite the story to tell her children when their old enough.  Do you mind if I ask if you have someone special little your friend has found?” 

“It's rather complicated to talk about.” I rubbed the back of my neck out of nervousness.  “The lord that I have my heart set on is related to the family that has started this was between the Stark’s and Lannisters.” 

Maragery tilted her chin up slightly reading the expression that crossed my face.  “Tyrion.  The dwarf Lannister.” 

“Yes.” I replied simply. 

The tent flap got thrown opened and a guard peeking his head inside and focused his gaze solely onto me.  “Forgive me, your grace.  The king is requesting to speak with Lady Ally at this moment.” 

“Privately or with Lady Stark there too?” I raised a brow at the guard, curious to find out if I was going to be getting some assistance with talking to a higher lord who viewed himself as a King. 

The guard simply answered my question.  “He did not say, my lady.  He just requested that I come escort you to his tent.” 

“I’ll speak with you more later, Maragery.” I slowly walked outside the tent following the footsteps of the guard in front of me.  Biting my lip it took us a few minutes before we arrived outside of the kings tent where the guard held open the tent flap.  Some leaves crunched underneath my boots I sucked in a breath, picking up the ends of my dress I curtsy to the king.  “Your grace, you wished to speak with me.” 

Renly was sitting at the desk chair by his wooden table, holding a drink goblet in one of his hands.  He was dressed in golden war armor completely ready for any battle that may come his direction.  “Yes, my lady.  Please come sit and have some wine.  There are things we need to discuss alone.” 

“You mean whether or not my friend Haelesa has any interest in seating the Iron Throne.  I can assure you she and her husband don’t want to be called King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” I answered the question he didn’t verbally ask, clasping my hands together in my lap once I had sat down in the seat across from him. 

Renly takes a long sip from his glass before he responds.  “On that note you may be closer to removing the Lannisters from that throne once and for all.” I weakly smiled praying that if we removed them from power that they would spare Tyrion. 

[wroef]

Theory on how Barbara died and Rick's disappearance. Based partially on/inspired by this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/dilfgmancoolatta/696764411466121216/thinking-abt-what-if-barbara-wasnt-violently?source=share

Okay.

So I saw this post and it sparked this theory of mine.

You see, I never really bought that Rick was responsible for Barbara's death given the fact he was on crutches at the time.

Not to mention the comic is not very reliable (since Edith signed off on it and might not have really liked Rick much, in my opinion).

So.. here's the theory:

They didn't have cellphones back then and Rick probably didn't walk to Barb's. His parents either drove him there or Barb did.

So if she kicked him out and didn't let him call home, he probably decided to suck it up (cause toxic masculinity) and walk home.

Only...

Barbara lives near the ocean. On uneven land. Surrounded by forest. And wild animals.

And it was night.

Rick probably got lost.

And it was Halloween.

It was probably cold.

So either he succumbed to the elements or got attacked by an animal.

Or maybe he went to seek shelter in a cave or went to chill by the ocean. Waiting for his parents to pick him up (if they had drove him) or for Barbara to cool off. Only to fall asleep and get pulled in by the tide.

Hence him disappearing that night.

(My friend pointed out that his crutch was found by the water).

I hear you say... How did Barbara die?

Well. They focus on the skates.

So I'm thinking one of the boys (Walter or the twins or all three) were playing with Barbara's skates before she got home and since the place was cluttered, she probably didn't see them and slipped. Tripping over the railing. Breaking it and falling to her death.

And of course, Walter would be messed up whether he was playing with the skates or not (suggested in the link) because he just saw his older sister die.

And well.

Edie might have blamed Rick for Barbara's death if he disappeared or just for not stopping it since he was there earlier.

Also Walter would be even more messed up because of how strongly his mom believed in the curse after the death of his uncle and grandparents and both his sisters.

And as more deaths started to happen, it'd probably cause a lot of stress. Especially with nobody getting help for him.

I don't know how much of this disjointed mess makes sense but I hope it does make a little sense.

Ooh, this is interesting!

I've never been of the opinion that Rick killed Barbara either, for starters. My guess was the serial killer or maybe some crazed fan(s?) mad that she wasn't able to make her appearance at the convention. I'll need more time to sit on this new theory but I do think it's worth considering

I do wonder though, if we assume that was true, why does he blame the monster for Calvin's death? He arguably has the most cut and dry of Walter's siblings (that he's aware of anyway, him not mentioning Sam makes me think he might not know he died which is :(( but anyway), and while I guess it could be the guilt mentioned I have to imagine that at the very least Sam would try to clear that up? Maybe he did and Walter just didn't believe him, though. It's hard to say. That's something that's bothered me long before I got this ask tbf

As far as the Rick part, yeah him drowning somewhere does make sense. Now that you mention it I wouldn't be surprised if he tripped around that river and cracked his head there.

(Happy birth/deathday queen. RIP Barbara)

-Mod Edith

[bluedevilsrpg]

BLOOD THIEF 

TAILOR. W. ( 29) Tindi Mar. TW: genocide 

HISTORY

TEETH OF SCISSORS, FACE OF CUT THREAD - YOU BURN FROM WITHIN IN THE REVENGE THAT’S MADE YOU INTO THE CREATURE YOU ARE. Before there was birth, there came death - you were taught of the peace and beauty in the pyres that burned before you. The soft leaves crunch beneath your feet as you accept the natural phenomenon of what life took and what it gave. But the cycle breaks when you witness mania and slaughter of the place you called home. They took everything - Marine Dogs, in their own righteous pomp. It is merely an order to be executed, they said. You remember sailing away on the last ship at the plea of your mother, watching as her life was exchanged for yours. It was then that you regurgitated the filth of all that you had been taught. The half-truths and half-lies would no longer complete the emptiness of losing everything you had. 

You conceal the bitterness of your pain in half-made smiles. Nothing would satisfy you more than the destruction of the World Government. You would do anything to tear it down, rip apart the universe they believe they rule. You learned love like a hunter, listening for gunshots mixed with your mirthless laughter. Over time you honed your skills to become stronger than any that stood before you. You walk in daylight under the guise of harmless fragility - nymph-like in ethereal beauty. But it is the taste of spilled blood and self-righteous rationality that brings you newfound peace. Nobody else understands sacrifice like you do. You stand as a living relic of a place that no longer exists. The people you loved and the land you once inhabited are nothing more than memories. The tombs that decorate the abandoned cemetery have become your palace, and you, their undead queen. 

CONNECTIONS

DEMON EATER ⌱  THIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND FEARS NOTHING

There was always an air of mystery around them when you first watched them perform on the battlefield. You knew of the rumors that surrounded them, the vicious accusations of the horrors staining their fingers. You found them remarkable. Their face was one that was made from the hauntings of an anguish you could hear between unspoken lips. Perhaps you found kinship in the way their brokenness reminded you of your own. In the midst of the night, you approached them, a gaze sharp and demanding in spite of the sword that was pointed at your throat. You sought them out to learn and understand the form of violence that colored their flesh like flowers on canvas. Your relentless, fearless pursuit eventually softened the hard shell that they wore. Despite their discouragement towards your insatiable retribution, you carry on with devoted fervor. If it costs your death to restore your old world, then you will graciously make a deal with the devil.

KING OF DROUGHT ⌱ DESIRE CREEPS FROM MY ANKLES TO MY THROAT; I, IT’S SACRIFICE

He and you share an entwined story; the boy-king who wants to give up his kingdom to save the world and you who will do anything to rebuild yours. And it is in these thoughts that you find yourself constantly at war. You look at him fueled by hatred for his weakness, his inability to utilize the powers he was given and abandoning it in favor of the easier route. But he pledges that it’s all for the sake of peace and justice. You can’t help but sneer and cackle in his face at such stupidity and absurdity. Peace and justice paid the price for what you had lost. You will never allow yourself to stand fragile like that again with such torment haunting your heart. True justice requires war and you will stop at nothing to undo what has been done to save the place you called home. You’re stuck in time, in the same moment that your family was murdered, and you refuse to move on. Your method to kill is mercy; and you say you are no monster, after all you are a mother first. 

MASTER OF DEATH ⌱ HOPE IS THE FACE OF A MACHIAVELLIAN INVENTOR

TW: drugs ( steroids ), addiction

You had nothing and you had nearly accepted your fate until you met him. He was brilliant and a man of so many masks and faces. Your hatred squirmed beneath the cavities of your murdered heart and in your desperation and greed, you struck a deal with him. He supplied you with a plethora of substances that helped you grow stronger, humming quietly into your memories, making a haze out of your past. You were blinded to everything else but your need for revenge. With every new vial, your strength doubled and you were quick to obsess over the concoction. You never questioned the lethality of every new invention that he created, letting it run through your lips. Your acts of violence are committed with a rage that bleeds red, no longer able to discern the difference between the monstrous and the human. You’ve grown to love the feeling of power but each new bottle is never enough to bring you to the feet of the Gods. You screamed at him - he, who you had come to see as divinity, had failed you once more. And yet he merely sighed, smoke floating between his parted lips as he murmured of your mistakes. You realized that past the fog, he was nothing more than a human playing God. 

BELLS OF HELL ⌱ WISH THE BLOOD IN MY MOUTH WAS MINE

TW: abuse

From the decadent silks that adorned her body to the twinkling ornaments in her hair, she lured you at first glance. But beyond her attire, it was her voice and the melodies that she sang that drew you into her. You should’ve hated her the moment you found yourself in her embrace - it was her family who had long been sworn to the preservation of the World Government. All that she was born into had ruined everything you had ever known. Despite it, you couldn’t resist the appeal of the enchanting siren. She brought you into her world and you filled yourself up with greed. None of it was enough to quench the emptiness that has been left from your shredded soul. You chose to rebel with cruelty, inciting humiliation by dressing her in a creation of your own making, one that set her skin aflame. You watched in horror and fascination with your chaos and her undoing; the emotions that flit through her face made you feel alive again. You stood proud and prepared to accept her retribution. So she too left an unforgettable scar on you; you’ll never forget the childhood song you taught her which she shrieked at you during one final slaughter. It haunts you as the haunting music played in your ears as you stood witness to the murder of your lost kin. 

BLOOD THIEF IS CLOSED & THEIR SPECIAL STAT IS AGILITY.

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

So the three ideas I had are:

1- given as rewards for life milestones

2- a form of identification based on personal choice

3.- a form of identification based on a set of rules outside of the wearer’s choice

So basically the first is to indicate achieving certain milestones, Zelda only having one set may indicate that they start when you reach adulthood and you earn more from there. So, Zelda has 1 because she only just became an adult, Sonia has 4, probably for adulthood, marriage, becoming queen, and maybe becoming a mom? I’m not sure what Mineru’s may be, And Rauru is literally the kinds so it mashes sense that he’s gone many important things in his life.

Other things that could warrant a mark could be a career milestone, buying a house, inventing something important, slaying a huge monster, saving someone’s life, etc.

In this interpretation, I’d say Link has a mark for adulthood, a mark for earning the position of Zelda’s personal knight, and a mark for defeating the calamity in botw. Theoretically post totk he would have 4 marks, adding on a new one after defeating Ganondorf.

And the second would have them be a culturally significant identifier. So you might choose the number and arrangement of marks based on the imagery you associate with yourself— Zelda having only one set may mean that she sees herself as young or inexperienced, or maybe the number 1 has significance to her.

In this interpretation I don’t know exactly why Link would choose the number three, other than it being generally thematic to the series as a whole.

The third would be a set of cultural rules, maybe the day/month you are born indicates how many marks you have based on numerology or astrology, or each unique design could indicate a family. Maybe it’s decided by a community leader or parent.

In this interpretation there’s a few things Link’s marks could mean, but we really don’t know enough about the Zonai timekeeping system to apply the birthdate theory. Otherwise, it may have been Rauru who decided how many marks Link gets (though I don’t know how it applies to the armor. Magic I guess) and Rauru made the judgement call after hearing about Link from Zelda.

The number 3 in our world can be associated with groups, communication, creativity, and connection, and when applied to birth/life path numbers (which I only behave the vaguest understanding of so don’t come at me) symbolizes a person who is a quick, out of the box thinker who can be a bit childish and unfocused but altogether fun and social, which I think suits this Link perfectly.

Interestingly this lens frames Zelda and Rauru almost inverted to what you may expect. In this interpretation Zelda is the beginning, and Rauru is the end.

10 on its own is both itself and the combination of its parts- 0 and 1. 0 is emptiness and potential, not a beginning but a place where one could eventually be. It is a point of rest.

But 1 is the beginning, it is leadership and action, taking the first step. This on its own suits Rauru, but 10 in the majority of counting systems is also the base set amount, the end of a cycle before it starts again. The culmination and completion of a set. So even though he is the first king of Hyrule, he represents the completion of something else.

Notably, he and Mineru are the last of their kind on Hyrule’s soil so maybe this points to a lost Zonai dynasty?

hey do you guys have any hcs for the 'tear' markings, like coming up with a reason why Sonia has four on each eye and Rauru has like ten all around his eyes, while Mineru only has four and Zelda has one on each side. But also they appear with the dragon sets (three on each side) and there has to be a reason for that. It feels like it could be linked to spiritual rank, or perhaps they have to be earned? idk let me know if you guys have any ideas lol

[mud-castle]

In the dark mirror au, have their been instances were kittypet queens kinda just expect their kits to be taken and make sure that they're ready? Like, Thunderclan breaks into a Twoleg nest and instead of fighting the queen, she's just like "I've got two mollies and a tom, one of the mollies is a little small, though I think she's big enough to still go with you. I gave them forest-y names; Pebble, Fern, and Sparrow, please let them keep their names as a final gift from their mother." Has something like that ever happened?

Wow, that's depressing...

So, I must put it in:

Story below the cut:

Paprika was a fool.

She had known of the raids the forest cats sometimes launched on the neighborhood cats. She had known of the kits that had been stolen and of mothers and fathers who had been injured when they tried to protect them.

Yet, she had also known that the raids were rare, more often done on loners, rogues, and city cats. The forest cats didn't want to draw the ire of the humans by attacking their pets too often. Rather, their attacks on the neighborhood were more often made at those who had strayed too close to their beloved trees.

So, Paprika had dismissed the concerns of her friend Trixie when she'd told her of her plans to have kits. The last raid the forest cats had been just about a month ago. Often, they only happened two or three times a year. Paprika had seen a number of kittens born, grow, and be given their own housefolk.

Paprika had always wanted kits, little ones running around under her paws. She'd daydreamed of the things she would teach them. Like, the best places to sharpen your claws, the names of types of birds that came around the feeder, how to get your housefolk to scratch the itch you couldn't reach, and so much more. And, like the idiot she was, she'd decided that it was safe to finally have her own.

She'd been given birth to three precious kittens three months later. Two mollies and a tom. Two weeks went by without issue. Parenting was a little harder than she anticipated, but with the help of her housefolk, she took to it rather easily. The kittens had opened their eyes and ears and explored the world that was the basket in the kitchen.

A week later, a forest cat had been spotted four houses from her own. It had simply walked along the fence, looking into houses, and disappeared about an hour later. Paprika kept a closer eye on her kittens. They had begun to babble, weakly attempting to mimic her own words.

Two nights after that, the cat was seen again. Two houses from her own. It had done the same thing, watching the houses, before going off once again. Paprika decided to stay in the house instead of spending her mornings and evenings outside chatting with the neighborhood cats and dogs. Her kits had started mewing their first word. "Mama"

Two nights later, Paprika was awoken by nothing. Her kittens lay sound asleep next to her. She gave each of them a lick on the head, heart warming as they purred contently. Her housefolk had gone to bed a little earlier than usual. She could hear him snoring away. With a yawn, she turned her head towards the window. She froze.

Wide, orange eyes locked onto narrowed, green ones. Paprika had never seen a forest cat before. It was big, far bigger than her. She couldn't see much of its details as it had its back turned to the light of the moon. But she could see its eyes slide over to where her kittens were nestled against her, and the glint of fangs as its mouth parted into a wide, wicked grin.

Paprika bristled, alarm shooting through her body. She turned in the direction of her housefolk's room, wondering if she could wake him up before the forest cat could try anything. But when she turned back to the window, it was gone. Paprika didn't go back to sleep.

Rage hit first, then indignance, then helplessness. There was nothing she could do to protect her kittens. She'd personally seen the wounds on cat who had fought back. The forest cats never killed them, but they left some wishing they had. She plead for help, but no one would. Many cats turned their noses, sneering that she deserved it for making such a idiotic decision. Others simply gave her a pitying look, unwilling to risk their lives for a pawful of kits. They told her to accept her fate. Some of the dogs had wanted to help, but were unable to escape their backyards. Deep down she'd known better than to bother asking.

So, she did the one thing she could think of. She prepared her kittens for the inevitable. She made up stories of strong, noble cats who fought monsters in the woods. She taught them a hunting a crouch as best as she could. They began to speak in full sentences. They played games like "Hunter" where one of them was a mouse and the others had to catch them, or "Battle" where their made up groups fought off monsters.

It took longer than she thought, about a month later. But, she wasn't surprised when one night when her housefolk had gone out they appeared in the kitchen , eyes gleaming, claws flexing. No doubt prepared for a fight. They were big, and their pelts were unnaturally glossy and sleek. Paprika eyed each one, a spotted molly, a light gray tom, and the cat she'd seen in the window. His jaw was scarred and crooked.

She sighed quietly, numbness overtaking her body. She nudged her kittens to the strange cats, ignoring the confused squeaks of protest. The foresters blinked at her in surprise, expecting her to fight back or at least run.

"These are my kits," she began quietly, "there are two mollies and a tom."

She nudged the first kit, a dark tabby molly. "This one is Sparrow, she's the eldest." The bold kit swatted at the spotted she-cat when she bent to pick her up. The wild cat withdrew, hissing slightly, before snatching her up roughly.

"Ow!" Sparrow cried, "Mama! She's hurting me!"

Paprika flinched, but nosed her second kit, "He is Fern, the second oldest." Fern, took a slight step back, glancing back warily.

"Mama?"

He didn't fight when the gray tom picked him up, gentler than the spotted one had been with Sparrow.

A lump had begun to form in her throat by the time she turned to her youngest, the runt. "This is Pebble, she's the youngest. She's a little small but-" she paused to choke back sob, "but, I think she's strong enough to make the journey."

None of the cats moved. The crooked jawed tom stared at the kitten for a long moment. Finally, he sneered, speaking for the first time, "Scrap couldn't even survive a stiff wind." He flicked his tail, and the other two cats moved towards the door.

A strange mix of relief and guilt made Paprika's legs quiver. She quickly took her littlest one back to the basket, almost afraid he'd change his mind if she took too long. Her other kittens cried for her as they were taken away from the basket, away from their home, away from her. She curled her paws around her littlest one, not daring to face the foresters again, unable to face the looks of betrayal her kittens were surely throwing her.

She heard a scoff from behind her, the spotted molly, "I told you kittypets were cowardly, they won't even defend their own kits."

"She'll just have more later." The crooked jawed tom answered breezily, "Probably won't even remember these ones."

Another voice, the gray tom, "Next time she should mate with a stronger tom. These tiny things are hardly worth the effort."

Their voices grew muffled as they left through the cat flap.

She looked to the little kitten they had left her. Pebble. Paprika's lips curled back at the name. Never would this little one be taken from her. She would not touch the land beyond the fence or fight over a pile of bones. Paprika wanted her to never have any association with the wild cats. This little kit would never know hunger, or bloodshed, or anything outside of the housefolk's protection. And she certainly wouldn't bear the name of anything from that wretched forest.

She clutched her littlest one close, her rage giving way to grief. She finally allowed her tears to fall, for sobs to shake her shoulders. How could she have been so stupid?

"Mama?" her kitten mewed, pawing at her face in concern, "Are you okay? Mama?"

"Next time" the gray tom had said.

Next time?

There wouldn't be a next time.

[padme-amitabha]

Anidala Week 2021

 Day 1: Missing Scene or Favorite Scene(s)

Anakin Skywalker could not take his eyes off the girl. He noticed her the moment he entered Watto’s shop, even before Watto said anything, and he hadn’t been able to stop looking at her since. He barely heard what Watto said to him about watching the shop. He barely noticed the strange-looking creature that had come in with her and was poking around in the shelves and bins. Even after she noticed he was staring at her, he could not help himself. He moved now to an open space on the counter, hoisted himself up, and sat watching her while pretending to clean a transmitter cell. She was looking back at him now, embarrassment turning to curiosity. She was small and slender with long, braided brown hair, brown eyes, and a face he found so beautiful that he had nothing to which he could compare it. She was dressed in rough peasant’s clothing, but she seemed very self-possessed. She gave him an amused smile, and he felt himself melting in confusion and wonder. He took a deep breath. 

“Are you an angel?” he asked quietly. The girl stared. “What?” 

“An angel.” Anakin straightened a bit. “They live on the moons of Iego, I think. They are the most beautiful creatures in the universe. They are good and kind, and so pretty they make even the most hardened space pirates cry like small children.” 

She gave him a confused look. “I’ve never heard of angels,” she said. “You must be one of them,” Anakin insisted. “Maybe you just don’t know it.” “You’re a funny little boy.” The amused smile returned.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, looking upset and embarrassed. “I don’t fully understand, I guess. This is a strange world to me.” He studied her intently for a moment, thinking of other things, wanting to tell her of them. “You are a strange girl to me,” he said instead. He swung his legs out from the counter. “My name is Anakin Skywalker.” She brushed at her hair. “Padmé Naberrie.”

Both Anakin and Padmé were laughing now, and their laughter increased as they saw the look on the unfortunate creature’s long billed face. Anakin looked at Padmé and the girl at him. Their laughter died away. The girl reached up to touch her hair self-consciously, but she did not divert her gaze. “I’m going to marry you,” the boy said suddenly. There was a moment of silence, and she began laughing again, a sweet musical sound he didn’t mind at all. “I mean it,” he insisted. “You are an odd one,” she said, her laughter dying away. “Why do you say that?” He hesitated. ” I guess because it’s what I believe…” Her smile was dazzling. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t marry you..” She paused, searching her memory for his name. “Anakin,” he said. “Anakin.” She cocked her head. “You’re just a little boy.” His gaze was intense as he faced her. “I won’t always be…” he said quietly.”

— Terry Brooks, Star Wars : Episode I - The Phantom Menace

This is one of my favorite Anidala scenes ever because their story starts so sweetly. This scene is so unique to them and after watching the OT, it’s fascinating to see a young Darth Vader as a sweet and innocent child. His interactions as a slave boy with a young queen in disguise is also fits with the fairytale-ish tone and themes in Star Wars. Anakin and Padmé’s first meeting is just precious. 

This is probably the only time, Anakin and Padmé can be themselves without older figures telling them what to do. This is one of the few times Padmé is Padmé Naberrie - not Queen Amidala or Padmé Amidala. It’s interesting to see two young people from different social classes and vastly different cultures and worlds sharing a genuine moment of connection. 

I can add very little to this scene but Anakin proves he has enough clairvoyance (as Admiral Motti mocks him in ANH) to be certain he has met the girl he would marry someday. Even in TPM, little Anakin Skywalker is just as much a slave to Watto as he is to the Emperor in ANH. 

Even Padmé is somewhat surprised by his intensity at such an young age. Anakin also emphasizes on his identity as a person so this scene has dark undertones and references to Darth Vader.  

Another scene I love is the chilling visual parallels with Vader and Padmé in ROTS. The stark contrast between their “deaths” but also the similarities show that they are still connected even while their lives hang in balance. 

Padmé gives birth to life and Anakin loses his humanity. She is in a well-lit medical facility and he is in a cold, dark one. Even their heartbeats are in sync as if they are connected via the Force (which could very well be true, since she was slightly force-sensitive from carrying the twins). 

As the mask lowers on Vader, he whispers (since his vocal cords are badly burnt), “Padmé, help me” and Padmé, always on Anakin’s side, hears his plea and tries to tell that to Obi-Wan with her dying breath. It’s very likely that she heard him through the connection they shared like their connection during the ruminations scene and how Leia felt Luke in ESB and but she was unable to respond as she had given birth and probably lost the temporary force sensitivity. 

 As Anakin takes his first breath as Vader, Padmé takes her last. 

Vader rises like Frankenstein’s monster and Sidious marvels at his new “creation”. Padmé dies all in white, like the angel Anakin believed her to be. The parallels are also reminiscent of the “Death and the Maiden” motif.

Anakin has always felt connected to Padmé since he met her and this is the last time he feels their connection. And that’s how he knows Padmé is truly dead and he has lost her forever.  

Even the chorus “I am a Sith Lord but I could not save her” (even though the lyrics are actually Sanskrit) is haunting. This is where the colors of the republic fade and the black and white symbolism of the empire begins. 

Anakin is now Vader - more machine than man - and stands beside Sidious to assist him in building a tyrannical empire while Padmé dies and takes with her all the colors, love, laughter, cultural beauty, and freedom of the Republic era. Padmé was the personification of the Republic - a flawed but well-intended system and her death represents the democracy whereas Vader represents the Empire. 

Her funeral arrangement makes it seem like she’s drowning like Ophelia - implying that she’s returning to where she belongs. (Her planet Naboo is mostly associated with water and Padmé has often expressed her love for water and lakes in AOTC).

Padmé dying of a broken heart is also fits in with the fairytale whereas Anakin finds himself in a very different world after he wakes up - a world where most of the Jedi had been slaughtered and the survivors were declared traitors, a world where democracy doesn’t exist anymore. And he finds himself kept alive my machinery and he cannot die like his beloved, even if he wishes to. He is now very much a part of the new empire - with his humanity and limbs lost - and he gradually accepts his role as the imperial enforcer. 

Anakin and Padme’s story comes to a conclusion here as their reverse arcs are completed. They have both come a long way since TPM and Padme’s experiences mold her into becoming more emotional and in touch with her feelings from the stoic, reserved Queen Amidala whereas Anakin’s dreams, compassion and search for his identity are lost as he becomes his master’s servant and becomes colder and more stoic. Padmé’s journey was to become more human and learning to put love and family over duty and transition from Amidala to Padmé as Anakin’s unfortunately was to become more inhuman and machine-like, from Anakin to Vader. 

These scenes are where the prequel trilogy ends and the originals begin. 

[scarletarosa]

Eurynome

Goddess of the sea and marine life

Tiamat, the arch-dragon goddess, was forming the first lifeforms in the sea to begin evolution during the very early years of the Earth. When she saw how wonderful her creations were and felt immense love for the world, this love sparked a new goddess to be born. This goddess emerged from the Queen of Heaven (the supreme, formless goddess) as a manifestation of hers and formed through Tiamat, making her connected to them both. This goddess was Eurynome, one of the Queens of the Sea. As a Queen of the Sea, along with Tiamat and Tethys, Eurynome embodies the sea and has a lot of influence in governing it. Her name, Eurynome, translates in ancient Greek as “the wide law”, showing that she governs the whole sea. However, this was mistranslated in modern times and she was mistaken as a land goddess.

The primordial form of Eurynome is of an enormous hydra with dark scales and many tentacles coming from her. But she also appears as a beautiful woman with black hair when she wishes. Soon after Eurynome was born, the sea itself granted to the goddess two dazzling gifts of oceanic royalty: a tiara with shining blue gems and a white scepter topped with a giant moonstone. These also represented her closeness to the sea, for she is one with it. Eurynome soon began using the tiny lifeforms made by Tiamat to create thousands upon thousands of sea life. She created the vast majority of the creatures and plants within the oceans, making her their Mother. All the life of the sea adores her. The creatures of the sea often speak to Eurynome with their thoughts, and the whales sing lovingly of her. Although Eurynome is not the mother-goddess of the mermaids, since these beings were created by a different goddess.

There is not one thing in the sea that Eurynome dislikes, she adores everything; no matter how terrifying they would be to others. She is the alluring woman who swims gracefully through the ocean and is carried by whales, and she is also the enormous creature of the depths. She represents both the incredible beauty and allure of the sea and also its mysteriousness and ancient darkness. The husband of Eurynome ended up being a sea god named Proteus, a deity whose primordial form is of a giant seahorse with tentacles, and who could glide peacefully over the waves. He would also appear as a handsome man when he wished. Usually, Eurynome has her home underwater where she dwells among strange rock formations. But sometimes, she will come to temporarily dwell on an island around other large rock formations.

An interesting thing about Eurynome that might not be expected is that she mostly eats seafood, despite sea creatures being her own children. This is a natural thing to her and is basically how Mother Nature is; she gives life and she takes it. She loves her children, but does at times consume some of them, and allows humans to do the same as long as they do not become greedy or cruel. Unfortunately, humans quickly became cruel to both land and sea, becoming monsters who demonized and degraded everything but themselves. But even despite all this trauma, Eurynome refuses to give up on her children and remains with them always. She does not often reach out to humans, but will make herself known to those who truly love and respect the sea.

Appearance: a beautiful and graceful woman in her late 30’s with long, wavy black hair, grey eyes, fair skin, curved black horns, and normally doesn’t wear anything. Though sometimes, she will wear some sort of decorations made from seashells to slightly cover parts of her body. In her hydra form, she has dark scales and numerous heads. She also has many tentacles coming from her body. Although Eurynome is able to take many oceanic forms and can even look like a formless mass of tendrils or a giant sea monster with large teeth and a lower body that spans out as tentacles.

Personality: Eurynome is elegant, charming, mysterious, compassionate, motherly, and generally peaceful. She holds all the grace and might of the sea within her, but often chooses to remain serene unless angered. Eurynome also spends much of her time around her children, who follow close to her, but she will also venture into strange places of the sea that are dark and unknowable. Other times, Eurynome often enjoys singing, her voice is hauntingly beautiful and attracts the attention of any creatures that hear her. Some things that Eurynome loves besides the ocean and her children include enchanting singing, moonlight on water, ancient underwater ruins, whale song, harps, ocean caves, collecting seashells, and all of nature.

Though when enraged, Eurynome becomes monstrous and horrifying. Her fury impacts the very sea and causes it to rage with her; the goddess’ fury can drown entire ships or she can bring terrible (even fatal) curses upon those on land. She will only approach those who love and respect the sea, and who do not wrongfully harm her children.

Nowadays, millions of years since the birth of Eurynome, the sea is not what it once was. Many of the ancient beings within have been killed by humans and Jehovah, the Aeonic god who sought to claim Earth as his own. And those creatures that survived are either always in hiding or always struggling to stay safe. The waters have become toxic and treacherous, and many creatures are regarded as mere animals by mankind when plenty are quite sentient. Eurynome tries to protect all of her children and becomes fiercely angry at those who pollute their home or kill creatures that should not be harmed (which are the very sentient ones). She has even been known to target whalers and kills them in various ways due to her extreme hatred towards them. She does the same for those who hunt sharks, be it for sport or to kill them just to eat their fins. Eurynome has said that many known creatures of the sea (especially whales, sharks, dolphins, and octopi) are far more advanced to her than humans are. And she says that all animals, both on land and sea, are never mindless and have the ability to communicate. The creatures may not be able to verbally speak human language, but they understand much more than people have given them credit for, and they are generally peaceful unlike humans.

Devotional actions: donate to sea protection groups, volunteer to clean beaches, and do rituals for her on the beach or at sea. Sing to her while near the ocean, allowing your emotions to be full of love for her and her children.

Offerings: carbonated water, lemonade, tropical fruit juices, seafood, seaweed, sushi, pasta with shrimp, papayas, mangoes, pineapple, watermelon, kamu kamu, cucumbers, courgetti, sea salt, pearls, coral, seashells, starfish, urchins, crab shells, shark teeth, trilobite fossils, smooth beach pebbles, orchids, pitcher plants, hibiscus, elegant silver jewelry, pearl jewelry, beautiful seashell jewelry, antique silver hand-held mirrors, perfume of floral with sea breeze scent, arched hair combs, antique jewelry boxes, antique music boxes (with beautiful melodies), silver foil in oil, blue sapphire, amazonite, opaline, rainbow moonstone, red scoria, pumice, obsidian, basalt, other volcanic rocks, white or pale blue candles, hydra statues, whale figurines, plesiosaur figurines, sharks, octopi, dolphins, manta rays, seahorses, fish, and other sea creature figurines.

*no octopus or sharkfin, she refuses to eat these and gets angry

*no alcohol, this is hard for beings of the sea to process due to its strong land connections

Related posts: Tiamat

[jadelynlace]

a dead woman tells no tales / vikings fiction

series based on Lady Lazarus, a poem by Sylvia Plath. 

chapter three / catch up here

synopsis: He left you for dead and now you’re back.

author’s note: the one small detail the reader has, is that she is a red head. also! as apparent in the last chapter, Ivar’s canon dick-can’t-get-wet-problem doesn’t exist. It can go fuck off with the canon ending in my humble opinion. 

pairing: Ivar x Reader

✄

“You lie,” Ivar says suddenly, shoving your body to place a strong force of distance between you. “Freydis loves me,” Even at his small attempts to prove his own mind to work in his favor, you still catch yourself passing another laugh.

“And do you love her?” You answer, a slick smile spreading through your lips as the amber waves go over your shoulders. “Because lying with another woman as a man who has wed does not sound like love,” Ivar looms over you as you speak, twisting his torso to peak a menacing glare through how he holds on to the sorrow you’ve suddenly stuck him with. His hand grabs your throat at such a speed your flinch is caught far after he has his grip on you.

“You are lying,” Ivar spits again. “You lie because you can not deal with what is truthful,” You feel the pressure along your airways tighten, the hum of the faint dark ink creeping along your vision as Ivar watches your eyes flutter. Suddenly his hand loosens and your mouth opens to pull in as much oxygen as your lungs will take.There’s a quick spark of fear spreading to a fire through your body as you crawl away from him; you know this time Ivar will not wait to call for help because he will ensure you are left at the gates of Valhalla. Scurrying back to your garments, it’s quick work to tie your dress haphazardly as you ready yourself to flee from him. Ivar’s eyes are still stuck on you with such distaste for your words it only makes you fonder, desperate to twist the knife further and tell him more of what you know.

“When that child is born you will see it resembles nothing of you. The only lie that I have ever spoken was that I did not love you. I have loved you Ivar, and I have had to deal with that,” You can hear his roar as you leave the hall, the shatters of broken ceramics not soon after.

*

Ivar hovers over a plain of disillusioned fate, the promises of returning to a woman who claimed her love for a monster like him torn from his crippled hands. His mood sours, even far past what he was normally known to hold as the meal around them takes no interest of his. Chatter from Hvitserk in one ear, chatter from his men in the other. Ivar had yet to look up to see you standing.

“Yes?” Hvitserk says, a faint turn of his head to your figure. Ivar’s eyes peel briefly as he flinches a whisper of fear through his bones from his spot. You place the dagger on the table that belongs to Ivar. “How did you get that?” Hvitserk questions, reaching for the steel blade that you pull back.

“Your hair still curls like it did when you were young,” You voice comes, the meal halfway towards Hvitserk’s lips stopping short. “It is fine that you do not remember me, I would not blame you. Have you not told your brother the tale, Ivar?” You speak, turning your head to look back at him. He is set to sail at the sun’s rise and you will swim behind the boats if you have to. Ivar just laughs, the ring of his amusement falling short with the snap of you wrist, the blade flying to piece the wooden table next to his hand.

“Leave,” He yells. You grab the lone cup of mead on your passage out of the room, drowning the concoction past your lips before tossing the container along the floor.

The moon is high when Hvitserk finds you, silver light past your cheek bones as it dances off of his blonde waves. He studies your body from where you’ve seated yourself, the rocks catching your figure as you try to keep the tears at bay. Ivar did not deserve them then, and he does not now. You would charge him for every droplet of salted water, every scar, every broken jagged twist of your heart if it was possible. The words in his voice that take up your mind, his touch, how tightly he held you. The men you have killed so that you would not simply slaughter him.

“What did Ivar do?” His voice beckons softly, curling around your cloak and lacing with the amber on your shoulders. The lapping water takes your voice from you briefly as you arrange the words on your lips to tell him of the past faults that only you and Ivar knew of.

“When you heat a blade over flame, it pierces more smoothly. Did you know that?” There is no answer given to you as Hvitserk shifts to seat himself where you are. “It is what he did not do. Do you remember the young girl who used to pull him in the wagon? The young woman who would challenge him in the woods when you would practice alongside him?”

“Yes,” Hvitserk answers. “She went missing—left,”

“Ah, that was the tale they told,” You sigh. “You know better of that, do you not Hvitserk?” You catch the way he looks at you, puzzled brow as he absorbs the sight before him. “I never went missing, Hvitserk. I fell, dueling Ivar and he could not help me up but he spoke of getting help. He never came back,” Your words fell past your mouth like tightly coiled ropes, thunking weight on to the ground, unraveling to be picked up and climbed. “I was there until travelers found me, and I went with them,” You added as Hvitserk sighed, his disappointment taking hold of your dropped ropes and latching on.

“And you think he has changed since then?” He asks, his question hanging heavily in the air.

“People do not change, Hvitserk. The seasons may, but people do not. I longed for an answer to why he would not return, and perhaps I will never get one,” You said. You knew Ivar was still under there, under the look of madness, the look of evil. The man that held you last night, making love, was the man you knew. The shocked eyes of being told he was unfavored by his queen were of a new person, failure to read even the simplest scenarios—that was not Ivar. He was not a blind man, nor a stupid one, but you wished for one day perhaps he could be—he could be told of something and simply accept it. He was not in love with Freydis. He was not surprised you came back. But he was sorry that he left you there to die. Crawling from ash as a walking miracle of the skin he dreamt of, rotting on those rocks as he could do nothing with his useless body to save you.

“You will sail back with us,” Hvitserk suddenly states as he bends to stand.

“Hvitserk,” You speak as he halts to turn back to you, brows raised in expectancy for the next question across your lips. “I have been sailing with you since you left Kattegat,” You admit as his face churns to catch where you have slithered through a lie within your words. “I never left, that was only the tale,”

*

Birth of Freydis’ son chimes through the town, up over the valleys and down through the trees, squawking between the ravens, and croaking between the toads. The town rejoices for their new prince upon the return of Ivar and his men, his attempts to act in celebration are only caught to be faulty by your eyes. What comes next are the whispers of Ivar’s unacceptance, his torment of throwing them out because the son carried a skin tone not of Ivar’s and not of Freydis’, eyes deep and dark and the near newly reborn spitting image of the baker’s son. Ivar wanted the man hanged, spread wide and pulled between layers of flesh for all to see. He wanted to pull the blonde hair in Freydis’ braid and choke her own airways. He wanted that bastard child left to the wolves.

Your meal was adorned before you, petty pickings from your cutlery on account of your absent appetite. Even if Ivar knew the truth now, it still did not make you feel any higher. You knew you were broken, but you would never doubt you were powerful—you had destroyed yourself, and it had been glorious. The pounding on the door halts you but you leave it as minuscule in your peripheral visions of things left of importance. You add wood to your fire and put out the last candles, collecting the scraps of your nightly meal to toss to the wildlife that litter the area past the great hall. Through all of your routine the pounding did not cease. With a pull of your shaw you cross the threshold and pull the door from its home, and the guard’s eyes sparkle in the light of the full moon.

“Your king has requested you,” He says. Nodding to the man, you follow his beckoning towards the quarters that hold Ivar’s throne.

“I figured you may haunt me, tell me that you were right to spite me,” Ivar’s voice says as you enter the room. His back is turned to you, speaking his words into the yellow fire that crackles but you can not detect any movement on his body. His voice comes across as dead, so brokenly mundane that you even can tell he makes no effort to hide what he’s feeling.

“Hvitserk never did handle his mead well,” You find yourself saying, the brief smile you crack at how untimely he must have spoken of your return on the ships with them, and how closely you had stayed apparent now. “And I can say all of that if that is what you wish Ivar,” His chuckle calls through your mind as you cross in through the room, padding behind him. “What became of them?” You asked.

“Nothing, as of yet,” Ivar says back all to bluntly for your favor.

“What would you like to become of them?” You ask from behind him. “Because while you have motive to hurt them Ivar, I do not,” You sang from where you were, crossing hands over his shoulders as you level your head next to his, your arm stretching out before both of you towards the hearth. “The burn of a flame can be put out, it can be controlled,” You whisper as you move your arm to the swords on the high wall. “A lot of blood comes from very specific places, but slice precisely and they take time to perish,” Your lips curl by his ear as your breath fans across the hair that has crawled his jaw, tracing your nail along his chin. “The meat of a mortal tastes the same to a wolf,” You add as you catch his jaw to look to you. “Whatever horror you want me to gift to them, Ivar, I will do it,” You spit as his eyes watch you. “You know how simple it is to break a bone,” Ivar’s tongue passes over his lips after you go quiet, your offer taking up space in his mind of the torment he could let you run madly free with. How there was no limit to what you now knew to do because you had spent far too long dreaming up how you would hurt Ivar for leaving you under that sky. You watch his chest heave quickly, a slow smile spreading over his mouth as his mind wanders. “You can bathe in their blood and show your people that there is no one who should cross Ivar the Boneless,”

He had never been this quiet for this long in the time you have known him. Ivar’s eyes mimic the oceans he has sailed for his path to ruthlessness as he stares at you, dancing through the shadows on your cheeks as you level yourself into his lap.

“Can I watch?” Is all he asks.

“You answer my one question, and you can watch anything you desire,” You say as he nods, sinking slightly from you as you sit just inches from his heart. “Why did you not come back?” You whisper, willing your voice not to crack under the extent of getting the chance to be gifted the one answer you ever wanted, but you are of no success. You eyes line with tears and although you need to blink them away, a stray droplet trickles across your cheek. It’s caught by the pad of Ivar’s thumb against your jaw as he looks back at you.

“You were gone when I came back,” Ivar simply answers.

“Now you are the one who lies,”

“You were,” Ivar repeated. “You jumped from that ledge, do you not remember?”

Tagged:

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[awisa-moved]

chimera ant + names

”From now on... you may call me... Meruem.”

i wrote about the chimera ants for a project that asked for an analysis of monsters in media, i’m sure it’s been talked about before but i thought i’d share my thoughts too (literally *just* my thoughts theres prob philosophers and writers who have theory abt names + identity but i simply do not have that knowledge atm). all of the conflict in hxh has been about individuals or groups, and chimera ant almost diverged from that with the setup of a “man vs nature” storyline and thank god. 

instead there’s a lot of inner struggles between what is humanity and what is monstrosity. what makes the ants a threat in the first place is when they absorb human dna through phagogenesis. the arc is a gradual evolution of the ants becoming more and more “human”, and that shifts their behaviour and even visually how they’re drawn. but i think what starts this shift is the want for a name. 

”May we have permission to have names?” 

“What is a ‘name’?” 

“A label to make ourselves distinct.” 

“Do what you want.” 

“We’re much obliged...”

this is relatively early on in the arc (vol 19 out of 30), but from here on togashi begins writing the ants from just simply “monsters” to a more complex antagonist. the only ants who don’t choose their own name is meruem and the royal guards, who the queen decides to name herself after the above exchange. 

”Komugi...?” 

“The blind girl.” 

(He bothered to learn her name...?)

the moment meruem and komugi play gungi and he takes notice of her nen awakening is when he asks her for her name. the act of asking “what’s your name” is one of respect, and this act repeats further on. komugi also asks for his name, which he doesn’t know. he is feared and loved due to his royal title, but lacks a personal identity otherwise. meruem calls the royal guards to him, all by name, to ask what his is. youpi says he is “not equal to the task“ of giving him a name, pitou suggests the king pick out a name he feels is most fitting for himself (trans rights!), and pouf, who earlier asserted that a name isn’t necessary and that the title of king is enough, says that there’ll be time to pick a name after the sorting. 

”What... is my name?”

the ants undergo constant transformation all throughout the story, both in a literal and a metaphorical sense, but this is the point when the king undergoes that transformation himself, and this essentially kicks off meruem’s self-reflection and growth. “I… am King. But… Who am I really…? Why… am I here? For what reason… was I born?”, and he spirals like this a couple of times. we’ve all been there buddy <3

when he plans to kill komugi, he shows kindness for the first time. in the past he striked others, ants or otherwise, with no hesitation, but this time his natural instinct is to protect her.

”Don’t you want to know... what your name is?”

when meruem faces off with netero, netero’s bargaining chip is his knowledge of meruem’s name. meruem refuses to fight until he is given that chance to find out (and also never asks for netero’s name). meruem finally learns his name, and when pouf and youpi come to his aid he shares his name with them. he’s happy to finally know his name, but also tells it to his closest aides, another way he is showing respect and ultimate trust to them.

“What did you say... your name was?”

“Gon. Gon Freecss.”

“Gon... You respected my wishes and waited for me.

despite having the intention to kill gon, pitou still asks for his name. he knew gon’s name already too since gon said it himself when he first saw pitou (”Do you remember me? My name is Gon Freecss!! I came to see you to restore Kite!!!”), but it’s the action of it that’s significant. while pitou is using doctor blythe to heal himself, he addresses gon by name again: “Gon... I’m sorry but I have to kill you. For the King...”. he wants to kill gon to keep the king safe, yet he still appreciates gon for letting him finish healing komugi and for trusting him blindly.

and then of course, the end of the arc and the last exchange of words between meruem and komugi.

”My name is Meruem. Lord... Meruem.”

”Will you...”

“Yes...?”

“Say my name... one last time...?”

“Good night... Meruem.”

meruem remembered how he couldn’t tell komugi what his name was, and just as he shared it with pouf and youpi, he tells komugi too. learning his name brought comfort to him, and once pouf and youpi became ~connected~ to meruem, they too shared the joy he felt upon learning his name. the guards still call him lord meruem, but he insists that komugi just simply call him “meruem”. and then the last thing he hears is “good night meruem”. i already mentioned it in a different post, but meruem’s birth was incredibly violent and his death is the opposite. gentle and loving. the catalyst for his growth, komugi asking for his name and him not knowing it, is finally resolved and he gets to hear it spoken lovingly in his final moments. 

his determination to win against komugi is what delays her death, but in the end it’s really the action of her asking for his name. once the ants begin to name themselves, that’s when they become not just a vague threat but a group of individuals. meruem was born a leader of a loyal colony, he had no reason to consider who he really is as an individual until komugi appeared in his life and treated him with kindness. not with fear or reverence, but genuine kindness.

there’s a lot more to be said of the general growth of the two sides (ants and humans) over the duration of the arc. the name thing was just a small thing i mentioned in my writing that i figured would be fun to go into a bit more detail. when grabbing screen caps for this i noticed ant palm breaks from pouf’s control over the frustration of being called no.1 and not palm but she is a bitch so whatever but i figure i would mention it anyway 🙄there may be other scenes i missed, and otherwise i can’t really think of names as a concept being this significant in the other hxh arcs

[theparanormalperiodical]

The REAL Story Behind The Crooked Man And The 7 Other Fairy Tales & Nursery Rhymes With *Even More* Disturbing Backstories

It was 4 years ago that we first met the Crooked Man.

With a *sickening* reveal via rottweiler fit for the latest season of Rupaul’s Drag Race, the suited gentleman staggered his way from The Conjuring 2 (2016) into our nightmares.

But his ashy undertones, gnashing teeth, and general aura of “I’m a demon, or something, which means I have no real motive apart from wanting to kill you” isn’t the only thing that fits the film far too well.

The Conjuring universe is the definition of ‘based on a true story’. And the Crooked Man fits the brief.

In the opening scenes of the film we see lovable and bulliable Billy stutter through a nursery rhyme:

There was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile, He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile; He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse, And they all liv'd together in a little crooked house.

Accompanied by a totally-cursed-i-mean-just-look-at-it zoetrope (it’s a bit like a mini projector that shows you a moving cartoon), Billy introduces us to one of the handful of extra entities terrorising London’s most haunted house. You can discover more about the true story of 284 Green Street which inspired The Conjuring 2 here. 

But Billy also introduces us to a real nursery rhyme inherent in British culture - and British history.

Yes, the nursery rhyme, like many, is based on dark and twisted reality softened for a bedtime story. And amongst this history was a real person. Unfortunately, the Crooked Man is not the only fairy tale monster or nursery rhyme entity that will be haunting your dreams.

Are y’all tucked in?

The Crooked Man

The nursery rhyme was first told sometime in the 17th century during the reign of King Charles I. But the Crooked Man was not the Stuart King - it was allegedly inspired by Scottish general Sir Alexander Leslie and the covenant he signed.

The covenant secured religious and political freedom for Scotland despite prevailing animosity between the English and the Scottish.

The crooked stile is the awkward alliance between the two parliaments and the crooked house refers to the collective union the Scottish and English lived together in. But the ‘crooked’ part works on another level, too.

The great recoinage of late 17th century meant sixpences - which feature in the rhyme - were made of very thin silver and thus easy to bend.

An alternative origins story links it back to Lavenham, a village in Suffolk (England). The half-timbered houses leaned at off angles as if supporting each other, creating a crooked aesthetic that matches the nursery rhyme.

The Pied Piper Of Hamelin

I distinctly remember hearing the story of the Pied Piper when I was about 7 years old. I was there, sat crossed-legged on the wooden floor in assembly and listening to the headteacher tell us the tale of the musical maverick with an overhead projector.

I remember it being far more nostalgic and not so traumatising.

The story goes that sometime in the 13th century a peculiar man dressed in brightly-coloured clothes (pied clothing) was hired by the town to rid them of the rats with his pipe-playing abilities. Hamelin had been suffering from an infestation that would threaten the locals with the plague. The piper was to play his pipe, entice the rats with his magical music, and lead them to a river where they would promptly drown.

He was hired and he did the job - but they didn’t pay up.

The piper couldn’t exactly refund his services. Instead, he sought vengeance, luring away the children of the town with his magical pipe. He waited until Saint John and Paul’s day where the adults would be in the church, dressed in green like a hunter, and played his pipe. The children of the village swarmed to him, all 130 of them, following him out of the town and into a cave. Three were unable to follow due to being blind and deaf and thus told the villagers what had happened.

The real story:

Some versions of the story claimed he made them walk into a river, others claim he returned them after payment. But what we do know for sure is that there is a street in Hamelin called Bungelosenstrasse. On this street - ‘the street without drums’ according to translation - the children were seen last. No music and no dancing is allowed on this road.

Bluebeard

We open on a typical Medieval scene: a powerful and wealthy man is looking for a young wife to replace the last one who mysteriously went missing. Bluebeard’s been through quite a few women, actually, but it’s his latest bae that stars in this story. Bluebeard marries his neighbour’s daughter and goes on a business trip.

He tells her he can stay alone in their house but she cannot open a certain door.

Of course, she opens the door and finds the corpses of his ex-wives. Her and her sisters band together to kill Bluebeard, showering themselves with a wealthy inheritance.

The real story:

This tragic tale of murder and mystery is unfortunately all too true.

There are many alleged origins of the folktale. Let’s start with the Medieval ruler of Brittany, Conomor the Cursed: his new wife agreed to marry him to prevent him from invading her father’s lands but accidentally walked in on a room full of his dead, old wives. She was visited by their ghosts who warn him if she falls pregnant, he will kill her, preventing a prophecy that claims he will be killed by his own son.

She gets knocked up, gives birth, and then she gets her block knocked off.

An alternative inspiration could be a similarly brutal figure: Gilles de Rais (15th century). He was accused of murdering approximately 140 children who suddenly went missing in the Nantes countryside. He was condemned to death and executed in 1440.

Snow White

It’s one of the most popular fairytales of all time.

The story goes that a queen gives birth to a baby girl but dies in childbirth. The king’s new wife is wicked and vain, asking her magic mirror ‘who is the fairest one of all?’ on a daily basis. When the child turns seven, the mirror changes its answer from the queen to the child, Snow White (yeah, that’s weird). The queen hires a huntsman to kill Snow White, but she begs for mercy and says she will live in the woods and he can pretend he killed her.

She finds shelter in a cottage belonging to seven dwarfs who agree to let her stay as a maid until the evil queen asks the mirror her favourite question. It claims Snow White is still alive and the fairest of them all. She goes through several methods of attempting to kill Snow until she falls into a deep coma. The dwarfs host a funeral, a prince comes along, and he, uhhh, kisses what he assumed to be a corpse and she is awakened.

They then get hitched but don’t invite the queen to the wedding. The queen asks the mirror yet again the identity of the fairest, assuming Snow is well and truly deceased but the mirror breaks the bad news to her again. The queen tries to kill her once more but Snow’s hubby forces her to wear red-hot iron slippers and dance in them until she dies.

There’s a lot going on here.

But rather than unpacking everything that's wrong with all of this *gestures to everything*, let’s just get to the dark reality beneath it all.

The real story:

The inspiration is generally deemed to be Margaretha von Walbeck, a young woman who had a terrible relationship with her stepmother. She was forced to move to Brussels and fell in love with Phillip II of Spain, a romance not popular with her parents.

Suddenly, however, Margaretha died. Rumour has it she was poisoned.

Another detail of her life also links her to Snow White: her father’s copper mines were often filled with child labourers whose growth was stunted by working in them, mirroring the ‘dwarves’ in the story.

But Margaretha is not the only contender: Maria Sophia Margaretha Catharina Freifräulein von Erthal *inhale* also hated her stepmother. This - and the fact that her stepmother was given a mirror as a gift by her husband - also ties her to Snow White.

Hansel And Gretel

It’s possibly the most simple fairy tale up for discussion: a brother and sister are sent out to the woods by their father. The mother asked for him to send them away so they can survive a famine. But Hansel uses stones to trace their steps back home. One day, however, he uses crumbs. They get eaten by the local wildlife, so the kids get lost.

They then discover a witch's house, a gingerbread cottage. She lures ‘em in, fattens up Hansel, and prepares to feast on his flesh. The kids plot against her, throw her in the oven, and steal her stuff before heading back to live with their father.

Okay, so maybe this one isn’t based on a true story. It’s based on true stories. Yep - plural.

The real story:

Child abandonment and infanticide was pretty common during plagues, famines, and all other circumstances of poverty. In fact, this particular tale is believed to come from the Great Famine which stretched across Europe from 1315 to 1317. Child abandonment surged during this time.

Rapunzel

Turns out Disney lopped off a lot of Rapunzel’s real story to make it a family friendly movie. Yep, this is a weird one.

A pregnant woman begins to crave a kind of salad leaf (Campanula rapunculus, also called rapunzel) in the garden of the house next door. He goes out to nick it but is caught by the homeowner - a witch. She says he can take the rapunzel, but in return he must give her the child once it is born.

The witch raises Rapunzel as her own but locks her away in a tower when she is 12 to protect her from the outside world.

A prince eventually rocks up and decides to climb her immensely long hair. Unknown, probably PG-13 and probably not consensual acts happen. Still, given it's the medieval era they agree to get hitched after escaping.

The witch discovers her plan, cuts off her hair, exiles Rapunzel, and uses the locks as bait for the prince before throwing him to the briar roses below where he is promptly blinded. Rapunzel gives birth to twins and the prince finds her, identifying her only by her voice. Her tears restore his voice.

The real story:

Being kidnapped or being kept hidden away from the rest of the world is pretty common, well, all of the time. But Saint Barabara, a Greek saint, was the main inspiration for the tale.

She was locked away in a tower in Turkey in the third century by her father in an attempt to protect her Christianity. But her Pagan father’s efforts did not succeed and she discovered the ways of Jesus. She escaped but she was eventually caught by her father who then tortured and beheaded her.

Religious intolerance, y’all.

Beauty And The Beast

Time for another Disney classic with a heavily edited plotline.

The father of a family seeks shelter in a grand palace during a storm. In the morning before he leaves he takes a rose from the garden but is caught by a beast who threatens to kill him for nicking a flower. But the beast agrees not to kill him if his daughter takes his place instead.

The daughter moves to the palace but asks to go see her family for a week. She is then convinced by her sisters to stay at home. A magic mirror then reveals the beast is dying because she isn’t with him. She returns to him and her love breaks the curse that makes him appear so monstrous.

The real story:

Petrus Gonsalvus (1637-1618) was born with hypertrichosis. This meant he had a thick layer of hair all over his body - his physical difference didn’t go down very well. He was kept as a ‘wild man’ in a cage and fed raw meat.

When he was 10 years old he was gifted to the king of france. But he wasn’t kept as a ‘beast’. He was educated like a nobleman and was taught to read, write, and speak three different languages. He was then married off to the daughter of a court servant.

He was married to her for over 40 years and they had seven children together.

(Aww.)

Three Blind Mice

Three blind mice, three blind mice, See how they run, see how they run, They all ran after the farmer’s wife, Who cut off their tails with a carving knife, Did you ever see such a thing in your life, As three blind mice?

The real story:

It's one of those nursery rhymes you grow up with - and 17 years later you realise how traumatic it actually is.

This nursery rhyme can be traced back to the reign of Bloody Mary (16th century) who had a tricky relationship with Protestants. And by that I mean she burnt them alive, hence the nickname.

The three blind mice represented three Protestant bishops who may have been blinded before their execution or spiritually blind for following Catholicism. Another reference to Queen Mary was her as a farmer’s wife.

Her husband, Philip of Spain, owned several estates and thus was technically a farmer.

Welp, there goes your childhood.

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See you next week, kiddos. Sleep tight.

[stovmborn-arc]

𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 & 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒.

**   this meta contains book, show and personal headcanons following daenerys’ relationship with her dragons. one thing that really stands out to me in the show is that the dragons are literally used as weapons of war, rather than maintaining the relationship that daenerys had displayed with them during the earlier books. yes, they will help her win the seven kingdoms but they are her children, instead of ways of winning battles. crafted and constructed over lots of heartbreak with the help of daisy over on @perzyr​  ( a literal living dragon encyclopaedia )  so please go and give some love with a follow for top quality dragon lore & content. it’s going to be a long one so if you do read this then get comfortable. i will always reference and inform my writing partners of any important details regarding the dragons, should they be of any relevance to our plots or threads.  give that like button a   ♡   if you do read this  –-–  just so i know   !!!

◈        first things first, daenerys is not immune to fire. although in the show, she does not suffer any injuries from the funeral pyre in which she burns drogo, she is given the name of the unburnt because of emerging from the the flames alive, not unscathed. the hatching and birth of drogon, rhaegal and viserion was incredibly unique, a miracle even. three petrified eggs were placed into the pyre of her husband and dragons returned to the world for the first time in centuries. in the books, she loses her hair as a result of being within the flames and much like any other human, sustains at least some injuries. as a targaryen, she can tolerate high levels of heat and resist the pain of being burnt for a short while but too much time in fire can be severely damaging. albeit receiving wounds, they are quick healing given the magic in her valyrian blood. ◈        there is a level of understanding between daenerys and each of her children. although she cannot physically speak to them, there is a bond that she believes cannot be broken between her, drogon, rhaegal and viserion despite eventually becoming drogon’s rider. the bond she forms with them is one that grows with the time she spends nurturing them. to form a closeness, she cooks their meat as they are only babies and even speaks to them in valyrian. daenerys does not only rely on them for warmth but for comfort at times where she is feeling uncertain of the path ahead. dragon cuddles are a thing, it is known. cradling them in her arms, letting them huddle around her and sharing warmth with them, she attempts to create a physical bond between herself and her children. viserion is known for curling up on dany’s chest in particular. whilst drogon and rhaegal tend to occupy themselves more in play, viserion can be found by daenerys’ side as she reads. rather than caging them, daenerys ensures that they have their own safe space they can return to where they are free  –-–  their own sanctuary almost unless they are travelling. she allows them to fly above her and the khalasar along the red waste but also has a horses cart in which she places them when they grow tiresome.  ◈        when it comes to the chaining of viserion and rhaegal, daenerys is at odds with herself. beginning to lose control of drogon and learning that yunkai has returned to their old ways, a weight rests upon her shoulders. jorah mormont has too recently betrayed her and so, daenerys feels control slipping from her fingers. remembering that she is still young and somewhat naive ( despite being a queen ), an overwhelming amount of guilt falls upon her as the body of a child is brought before her claiming that  ‘the winged shadow’  was responsible. whilst it is suggested that the death has been caused by the masters in a bid to shame her, daenerys decides that it is a risk she simply cannot take. grudges have been held against her ancestors for the pain they instilled upon their own dragons, confining them to a pit. her liberation of slavers bay has been dedicated to freeing people of their chains and yet, she finds herself submitting to exactly what those of house targaryen did many years prior in the dragon pits. with a heavy heart, she makes a temporary measure to confine them below the great temple though, it is not as simple as what the show depicts it to be and instead, she faces a struggle.

◈        ❝  once, not long ago, she had ridden on her shoulder, her tail coiled around her arm. once she had fed her morsels of charred meat from her own hand. she had been the first chained up. daenerys had led her to the pit herself and shut her up inside with several oxen. once she had gorged herself, she grew drowsy. they had chained her whilst she slept.  ❞   –-–   the capture of viserion, her smallest and youngest baby. having to lead viserion into the pits personally, it felt as though she was leading viserion astray. an immediate guilt resides within daenerys, knowing that it is only her who has the power to bring viserion into the pit, it felt as though daenerys was leading her to her own demise. she had been named for viserys, the very person who had bargained with her freedom and now, she has in turn, chained the dragon she had named after him into a slave. ◈        ❝  rhaegal had been harder. perhaps he could hear his sister raging in the pit, despite the walls of brick and stone between them. in the end, they had to cover him with a net of heavy iron chain as he basked on her terrace, and he fought so fiercely that it had taken three days to carry him down the servants’ steps, twisting and snapping. six men had been burned in the struggle.  ❞   –-–   the capture of rhaegal, her most stubborn and defiant child. following the tales of rhaegar, she knew that rhaegal would not go down without a fight, though she did not anticipate the difficulty that would come with it. knowing of the struggle that he puts up, it only stirs more distress within daenerys, a sense of grief she has not felt before. watching the struggle increases her guilt and she cannot face rhaegal, employing members of the unsullied instead to lure him to the pits as she cannot bring herself to face him beneath iron nets. ◈        there are many occasions in which daenerys struggles to live with the decision that she has succumbed to the very thing her ancestors did and in an attempt to quell her own sadness and keep a bond with viserion and rhaegal during drogon’s disappearance, pays visits to them in the pits. though on one occasion, one lunges towards her as teeth snap in darkness, daenerys barely able to make out what is happening. the only thing that saves her is the fiery breath in which viserion releases, lighting a path so that she is able to quickly flee from what turns out to be an attack from rhaegal. the time he has spent in darkness has shaped his vision of his mother, stirring a rage inside of him ( not only for himself but for his sister ). paying mind to the devastation that she has bestowed upon her children, the pit is sealed abruptly once more and daenerys is left with a raincloud lingering above her. she had named viserion to do what her brother could not  –-–  protect her and that was exactly what viserion attempted to do as a fire lit within rhaegal’s throat, ready to engulf their mother as punishment. ◈        when the fighting pits are reopened during her wedding to hizdahr zo loraq and the sons of the harpy attack, drogon is lured to daznak’s fighting pits by the noise and the smell of blood. no whip is used to berate him or mount him and instead, the bond that formed between them is returned to her eyes as she looks at him in fear. she pulls a spear from his side, teeth bared as he lets out a scream of pain, though he soon realises it is his mother. it is within that moment that she remembers she is the mother of dragons and instead, takes to climb atop of him where she is carried to safety and taken to his lair in the dothraki sea where he has been living in his absence. falling ill and growing weak after eating wild berries and the scraps that drogon has left behind, daenerys begins to hallucinate. not only does she have visions of quaithe and the message she has delivered but she dreams of her children too, chained and betrayed by their own mother. it is in these visions that the impact of her actions begin to stir inside of her, realising that her children were never the monsters but instead, it was her.

◈        freed by tyrion, daenerys and her children take to the skies to defend meereen which is under siege at the hands of yunkai, astapor and volantis who are adamant in ending her ‘reign’. whilst this might not necessarily be a moment of rejoice and destruction for rhaegal and viserion, it is the first time in which they have been free from the pits beneath the temple in which they had been chained. viserion flies in out of loyalty to her mother ( and feeling somewhat responsible for having been chained ) as rhaegal follows closely behind, having grown protective of his sister. following the victory, daenerys dedicates most of her time in making amends to her children she has betrayed and willingly chained. 

◈        with viserion, she takes baskets of apples having known it is her favourite food and sits upon clifftops, reading to her in an attempt to salvage the bond they had. she tells her tales of the dragons that lived centuries before them, teaching her of dragonstone and the history of house targaryen’s reign in kings landing, on occasion also speaking in high valyrian. it takes weeks in order to strengthen what she had severed and at times, has to sit with her back to viserion to provide her with some comfort. each day that passes, she inches slightly further forward until one day, realises that viserion is wrapped around her  –-–  too big to now curl around her neck like she had done as a child. at first, when daenerys goes to touch her, she realises that rhaegal is scared ( particularly if her neck is touched from where she almost strangled herself, worried for her mothers safety as the sons of the harpy erupted within the fighting pits ). instead, she makes contact by scratching at her nuzzle, allowing her palm to stroke between her nostrils until she reaches up to the point between her eyes. 

◈        with rhaegal, the process is a much longer and difficult one. as noted in the words of barristan selmy, he was always the more aggressive dragon and quite often, became possessive over things such as food. when attempting to rebuild the bond she had with rhaegal, daenerys ensures to bring him extra meat and cooks it herself, starting a fire and charring it before retreating further away. there is little she can do in terms of comforting rhaegal and for the first couple of weeks, sits with him in silence knowing that no words can convince him of how she believed she was doing what was best for meereen. on one occasion, rhaegal snaps at daenerys, pinning her down to the point of almost crushing her. it is a cry from viserion that tears rhaegal away, the sadness within her windpipe causing him to leave daenerys and fly off elsewhere to escape from his mother. on her next visit, she ensures that viserion is there, becoming aware of the protective instinct he feels for his sister. eventually, daenerys attempts to create toys and little playful games like she did as they were babies. this consists of making balls of ribbon, much bigger than what they once were as drogon joins them too, living in the memories they did when the three of them were newly hatched. the trust between rhaegal and daenerys has never fully returned to what it once was, though she notices that tyrion’s presence instils a sense of calm within him  –-–   one she has not seen before. it fills her with sadness, having named him for her brother who died on the green banks of the trident, daenerys had hoped she might feel a closeness to rhaegal out of the connection he holds with rhaegar and yet, this will never happen. though, she knows she only has herself to blame. 

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋.

◈        following the chaos in daznak’s pits and realising that spears ( although not deadly ) can cause damage and hurt to a dragon, daenerys readies her dragons to have armour as she prepares to sail for westeros. it is not full body armour but more so protective layers that shape around their throats and shoulders. shed skin is used to form a second layer of scales, used for measurements too. a saddle is also made for drogon, simply to make things safer and to provide him with more comfort as she rides him. more details are later added to their armour using dragonglass mined from the caves of dragonstone. 

◈        it is suggested by some that to maintain a relationship between her and the dragons, so that they accept her as their ruler, daenerys uses a whip to control them. when she acquires the unsullied, daenerys is seen mocking the masters by tossing the whip that master krazyns provides her with to the ground. and if this does not promote her attitude towards cruelty and control, i don’t know what does. as much as she would like to be able to tame her dragons, she understands that they are creatures as smart as she. they have their own mind, their own will and it cannot be bent or controlled. she does not use a whip or any kind of weapon to command them but instead, relies on the physical and mental bond that she has instead as a means of trying to show them what is right from wrong. the first time when this is questioned however, is when she locks rhaegal and viserion in the pits below her pyramid. 

◈        if more eggs were to come into her possession, daenerys would not be so hasty in attempting to hatch them. she knows that it was a miracle for her own eggs to hatch and would not rush to do so but rather, let the dragon insides grow until they are ready. as she did with drogon, rhaegal and viserion, she would spend time with them and attempt to bond with them. the difference this time around however, is that any babies will have older dragons to look up to    –-–  to nurture them and daenerys would rely especially upon viserion having shared such a tight knit bond with her since she was small enough to fit in her palm. 

◈        if either rhaegal or viserion showed interest in allowing another rider, it would not bother daenerys so much, providing that the person they had shown an inclination to was somebody she too trusts. the dragons and daenerys share a bond ( even if it was severed when she betrayed their trust ) but they have seen many people enter and leave their mothers life. some lost to war and protecting their queen, others with ulterior motives. the dragons have a good judge of character, particularly drogon and viserion who daenerys shares the closest bonds with, simply from the consistent contact and affection they keep. daenerys’ feelings and reactions to things rub off on drogon and viserion, with thanks to the emotional and physical connection she shares with them. rhaegal too is capable of picking up on his mothers emotions, though he usually only acknowledges them if they are of threat to viserion. 

[vidalinav]

Queen of Monsters: Chapter 7

Summary: Nesta and Cassian reach an understanding 

Rating: M (Warning for mentions miscarriages/stillbirths)

Read also: Chapter List, General Masterlist

I am so late for this update. Also, I wrote this on the fly so hopefully it’s edited well enough but who knows really. Certainly not me. 

~

Nesta felt acutely aware that she was flitting through emotions. Like she was writing her feelings on a notebook and ripping out every page. Excitement dropping behind her with neat, printed script, then sadness, then grief, something like disappointment landing at her feet. Nesta could only feel irritation at the transient moods—anger that not only was she littering but that she was wading through it all and drowning in paper cuts.

After their spat, Cassian had dropped her off at the inn and quickly flown away. Nesta huffed at the thought of him, sulking and quiet. She had felt… on top of the world at the thought of going home and that look, the dark eyes and furrowed brows, that blasted look made Nesta want to roar. Suddenly guilt had unwelcomely wormed its way in, settling in her chest, and her world had gotten that much smaller in the blink of an eye.

But Nesta paused short at her thoughts.

Home? That was an odd way to describe the city she despised.  

On a good day, Nesta had only tolerated Velaris. All the noise had given her a headache—the people yelling, the children laughing, the endless chatter that seemed to envelop the city in a soft hum. And the smell? The smell had made her nauseous. Spices, baked bread, and the Sidra. The Sidra sinking to the sea, carrying the fishy scent with it.

Nesta remembered that scent most of all, remembered wanting to laugh at that. Such a beautiful place and yet the imperfection permeated the city as much as any of the starlight, as much as any of the dreams.

But perhaps what really made Nesta reel were the people themselves.

How many times had they congratulated her on a victory won? Their smiles laced at the edge with cold, winter memories as they remembered too what war felt like. But perhaps if they remembered it like she did they would not praise her for cutting off a monster’s head, when at one point she had she wished it on all of them.

Nesta clenched her fists, bringing them up to her mouth. The warmth lasted only seconds as she breathed into them, and she cursed herself for once again forgetting her gloves.

Even now she didn’t want to say his name. In her head, she’d referred to him as that monster and nothing else. She tried not to think of him, to hear the whisper of his laugh or the horror of his words. Nesta thought that if she allowed him to seep into the marrow of her bones, he’d be the actual victor of the war and not the girl who’d looked up at the sword plunged into his neck and twisted…

So Nesta refused to think of him as she trampled through the snow laced town, the buildings all covered with thick ice. She found herself wanting to find those females again, hoping that they were spewing hate and other nonsensical ideas to the impressionable young…or not so young beings of the camp.

She wanted to hear the yells, feast on the hostile anger, and let it renew her own. Let it seep into her bones so that once again she’d remember why she was here and why she was not in Velaris.

Nesta was almost near the center of town, the winding streets pulling her forward, when she noticed a form taking shape in the distance. The figure stood huddled in furs and the wind seemed to gather strength, blowing a flurry of snow her way. Nesta, in all her anger, didn’t notice that the world hadn’t been quiet that day. Waking mountains huffing out a humdrum of wind.

Nesta would have walked right past the figure, no greeting, or smiles. But she caught the extended arm, the jolt of a grimace as the… female leaned against one of the building walls. She clenched her stomach and as Nesta neared she could see that the female was pregnant. Heavily so.

It was Lord Ovis’s wife and as she hunched over, letting out a gasp, Nesta could only see the horrifying image of mucous-like blood on crisp white.  

She swallowed her distaste and ran to her.

“Don’t touch me,” the Illyrian gasped as her wings flourished out. Nesta’s hands reached out to hold her steady but the female hit them away.  

“You’re in pain,” Nesta replied derisively, noting the sweat on her brow and scent of must in her clothing.

“That’s no business of yours,” She gritted out. Nesta paused in her pursuits, giving the Illyrian a bland look and glancing to the street she’d come down from. The female would have to walk up a hill, maybe two, or… fly, though Nesta doubted she could by the looks of it.

“Where are you trying to go?”

The female yelled out in frustration, to tell her to get lost probably, but Nesta stood taller at the tone.

“Look,” Nesta demanded, the female squinting at the command. “I don’t know how much you think you can do this by yourself, but there is no one here! And I doubt there will be people trekking up these mountains when it looks like a storm is coming. So where. Are. You. Going?”

Maybe, Nesta was also a touched panicked judging from her voice but the female finally relented, grunting out an explicative Nesta was surprised to hear from this female who was always dutifully quiet.

Alright, Nesta thought, this can’t be too hard.

“The inn,” the Illyrian spoke. Nesta must have looked confused because the female rolled her eyes impatiently. “Daphne, the inn owner’s wife… she’s delivered before.”

She has? Nesta remarked to herself. Nothing about that female seemed to scream midwife, with her fake smile, the tight skin of her cheeks so forced Nesta thought it might have hurt to act pleasant. Midwives should have been stern but kind, who radiated calm. Nothing was peaceful about that female who wouldn’t even give her directions.

Nesta resisted laughing in outright shock.

“The inn it is then,” Nesta confirmed with a nod of her head, holding on to the Illyrian as she leaned against her. The wings were heavier than she thought, and they dragged behind, making the walk infinitely harder in the snow.

But they arrived with little complaint, Nesta huffing almost as much as the female who kept a level-head for someone about to give birth. She doubted she’d act the same if it was her.

As Nesta pulled open the door, Daphne rushed forward at the sight of the female, forcing Nesta away.

Nesta scoffed at the small attack. As if she walked herself up that hill!

“You must be freezing! Let’s get you into a warm bath. Gina!” She called, setting the female at a seat and then rushing towards where Nesta knew were the kitchens, “Get some hot towels and warm up some water and bring it to the room. Don’t dally!”

Nesta watched the plump female disappear behind the door and looked to the other who was now seated at the settee, her head back and her eyes closed.

Her job considered done, Nesta turned to leave, but the female gasped harshly, clenching her fists to her stomach. When the Illyrian looked up again, she zeroed in on her, and Nesta swore she saw agony in her face. Pain and… something worse. Something Nesta wanted to run from. Far and fast away.

“Please find my husband,” She croaked, the words tinged with warning.

Nesta stared at the female, the obligation settling in, and she stepped back with the discomfort of it all.

Nesta didn’t voice her answer as she walked through the doors, as the wind whipped her hair, as the temperature seemed to drop within moments. She didn’t look back at the inn as all of her feelings began to whirl around her once more.

Nesta merely ran.

Far and fast away.

~

When Nesta arrived at the training fields, her hair half-askew, her hands patting at her face to warm herself, no one was there. That made sense though because the training fields were all outside and there was no use fighting when the cold hit worse than any punch. So, Nesta ran to the large shacks, the saunas that she knew were tucked away from sight.

She almost felt it indecent to enter such a place, and the old her would have been thoroughly appalled,  but this new Nesta had seen far more of the male body than her previous counterparts, so she simply shrugged her shoulders and pushed open the doors.

They creaked as they moved and Nesta peered inside, cautious that she might see more than what a night of drinking let her heartily accept.

When she saw no one was there, Nesta wanted to scream in frustration.

“You shouldn’t be here,” A rough voice came out from behind her, making her spine stiffen.

The male leaned against the doorway as she turned towards him. His stance casual in his boots and leathers. He didn’t wear any coat, which she thought was arrogant of him when the wind whirred from outside and shook the building.

Kallon’s gaze slid over her and Nesta wanted to back away, the thoughts of Thomas appearing in her mind. He didn’t move from his place though, and Nesta would not give him the satisfaction of cowering.

“I’m looking for your father,” She replied, her words poignant and pernicious. Kallon raised a brow, but his expression marked one of boredom. Nesta’s jaw hurt from how hard she gritted her teeth. “You’re mother is going into labor.”

Kallon seemed to grow taller at the words, his wings rising to block the light of the door. The menacing shadows painted him in full glory. Still, he was not the worst beast she’d seen.

“I think she’s having… complications,” Nesta explained as best she could. Somehow she felt an ache in her chest for the female, her pain leaving a scar where Nesta thought she’d feel nothing.

“She is not my mother,” He glowered. She could hear the solid steps of his boots, one after the next as he angled closer to her. Sharp taps like the pulse she could hear through his chest. “And I don’t really care what happens to the runt.”

Nesta peered up at him, noted the shiny gleam of his dark eyes, the facial hair that stroked up his cheeks, his nose high and pointed. Kallon was too used to be intimidating, she thought, because he walked slowly as if he was a predator.

Nesta was no prey.

“That’s your blood,” she said, a bite to her words. “Your family. Your brother or sister.”

“No blood of mine would ever be tainted by so low of a female.”

Nesta scoffed, her eyes widening with the shock she couldn’t contain. “You’re a real bastard aren’t you?”

“I am not a bastard,” He announced, stepping in front of her. Nesta had to tilt her head to look into his eyes. “But that thing is as good as one… Didn’t your dog ever tell you? What we do to bastards around here?”

Her fists clenched as he jeered, some fire rising in her chest until she could only hear a soft hum. Her chest ached from keeping it all in, but she willed herself to remain calm, that power in her veins laying unbridled, biding its time.  

“The only bastard I know is standing right in front of me and if the village is ready to throw you to the wolves, please let me know when procession starts.”

Kallon’s gaze turned to liquid ore as his nostrils flared as if he’d start roaring fire, but she merely crossed her arms. Her chin raised defiantly in that you mean nothing look. Nesta had practiced it well.

“You look surprised… Did you think I would be intimidated?” She titled her head lightly and laughed. “Why should I be afraid of pups who can’t see past their own importance?”

She danced away as Kallon stood as rigid as ice, his back so straight she thought he might tip over if the wind decided to blow the roof off. She laid her hand on the door of the empty sauna, the hinges creaking as she moved to shut it.

Kallon remained staring at where she’d been before, his muscles tense and his wings tucked behind his back.

“You should have just told me where your father is,” Nesta mused, the male stiffening at her voice. “it would have saved you some pride at least.”

Nesta didn’t wait for his response as she continued, in search of that lord who deserved a beating for the way he raised his son.

Gods help the next one.

~

If there was anything that Cassian learned in his time being here, it was that Lord Ovis liked to talk. Not to his family, and certainly not to his comrades, but the sound of his voice must have seemed sweet to his own ears because he never stopped talking.

Cassian sat in the council room with fifteen other Illyrians, and though he knew he was supposed to seem regal and uptight; Cassian didn’t have it in him to pretend he had a stick up his ass for more than five minutes.

That was more Rhys’s style.

He swallowed down his laugh, imagining what the rest of the Inner Circle were doing right then. Probably not as bored as him, when he wanted to take the pencil in front of him and stab himself in the eye. He doubted they’d let him leave even so.

Cassian mind drifted to Nesta and what she was doing at this moment. He wanted to groan at the thought of her as he shifted in his seat, laying his head on his knuckles. She’d been puffed up and rosy during their argument and infinitely too soft when he’d flown her back to the inn, but she’d been calm at least…

Cassian had been a fool. For so many reasons, but...

He did say that. Didn’t he? That he couldn’t understand how her sisters could love her. It was only a few weeks after that that they learned Nesta was drinking more, slumming it with some male or another every night. He’d seen her once. During the day, in the beginning and she’d mostly looked tired. He imagined she wasn’t sleeping, but she looked worse than tired. Like carrying her own bones was too much of a burden and the weight was crushing her.

Cassian wanted to roll down in his seat at the guilt that welled up in his chest. He’d promised her… he promised to protect her. Her family. The people across the wall. Promised her so many things that he never voiced allowed, and not once had he followed through. He’d missed every opportunity.

But she’d promised nothing, and she was beside them all. She’d… protected him.

Cassian blinked away the sting in his eyes.

Just as he was about to sigh in defeat, his thoughts properly stored and tightly locked away, the door flew open. The wood slamming against the walls.

At the commotion, the males stood fast. Lord Ovis maneuvering around the table as his wings brushed back, ready to fight. Cassian remained in his seat, staring at her as the light seemed to wrap around her form.

Nesta didn’t even look at him as she stepped past some of the soldiers, moving through them as if they were stalks of wheat and she had little time for them. She zeroed in on Lord Ovis and he stood tall at her perusal, shock painted on his face as she looked him in the eyes.  

The next words out of her mouth seemed to shock both of them.

“Your wife is having the baby.” Her brows furrowed as she talked, the words rushing out of her. “She went into labor and she’s at the inn.”

At the information, Lord Ovis let out a breath, settling down as he stepped back to his seat. Nesta looked to him when she noticed Lord Ovis beginning to sit, and Cassian didn’t know what to say. She stomped towards the male anyways, fire in her lungs.

“I just said your wife is in labor,” she hissed.

Lord Ovis simply shuffled some papers on his table, muttering to the male next to him to get him some water. Cassian scoffed.

Nesta threw up her hands, “Are all of you this ignorant?”

Cassian could see some of the males shuffle in their seat at the insult, surprise and outrage rolling through the room like thunder. Cassian simply took note of the snow on Nesta’s coat, her face flushed from the cold. He looked to the open door, where the wind chased the snow, roaring out its displeasure.

His gaze hardened at the thought of her running through the storm.  

“She needs you there,” she urged.

Lord Ovis sat back in his seat in lazy arrogance. “That would be improper.”

“Improper my ass! Your wife was standing next to a building in the middle of this storm,” she pointed to the open doorway as some of the other males looked, “she couldn’t even make it up the hill and I helped her there. She asked for you personally, though now I’m wondering why the hell she would when you seem to be good for nothing!”

He watched as he face seemed to turn a darker shade of red, the color rushing down her throat, but Nesta continued, stark, aching mad.

“I’ve been all over this blasted camp for two hours looking for you. And you know what?” She asked. “You’re son is shit by the way. You did awful job raising him.”

Lord Ovis blinked blandly, smacking his lips, and yawning faintly. He then turned to look at him, his eyes cruel as he laughed.

“You should learn to control your female,” He jeered. “A leash would do good.”

Cassian couldn’t even hear Nesta’s next words as the anger reached his ears. In a blink, he was there, standing in front of the lord who could use less teeth and maybe one less tongue. He gripped the male’s leathers in his fists and Cassian made him remember why he was the Night Court General Commander.

He reached out a fist, ready to maim, but he felt a sharp tug in his sternum and Cassian looked towards her.

Nesta’s gaze was sharp and focused as she spoke, her voice soft. “There is something wrong with the child.”

At the words, Lord Ovis whipped towards her, brushing off Cassian.

“What did you do witch?”

Nesta looked towards him and Cassian nodded his head in reassurance, though he didn’t know what he was asking of her.  

“I felt her pain. I don’t—” she stumbled, shaking her head. “I don’t think…”

“You don’t think what?” Lord Ovis cried.

But Nesta didn’t answer him as he pushed past her, leaving the rest of the males in an uproar as their camp leader braced the storm.

Cassian reached for her as Nesta stood staring at the door, her hand resting on her neck.  

She blinked up at him with thick lashes, before he could touch her and he lowered his hand. Her nose was still red from the few hours trying to find them. Cassian wished there were an easier way to contact each other and made a mental note to ask Amren what she thought could do the trick.

He was about to offer to fly her back, but Nesta closed her eyes, her brows furrowing as if she was in pain. This time, he placed a hand on her shoulder, but she clasped her hand atop his, and gripped it tightly. Her words made chills run down his spine.

“I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

Cassian prayed to the mother that she meant Lord Ovis to the inn.  

~

Cassian heard the high-pitched screams just as Nesta flinched. A small movement that no one would have noticed—that he would not have noticed—If it had not been her. Her look made him want to drag her inside, shut all the doors, and block every yell that made it to her ears.

Cassian did none of these things as he looked her over. The skirt of her dress puffed up as Nesta held herself close at the knees from where she sat on the steps to the entrance of that little inn. Her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. No scarf, he noted. The way she shivered had Cassian resisting the urge to take off his own coat and drape it across her.  

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” He spoke softly, raising his hands in surrender. Always surrender, because he had never been victorious no matter how many battles, he’d won. Cassian could still hear her yells in the back of his mind, and not the ones she spewed just hours before... but of her calling his name. Cassian! Cassian! It echoed. She’d hardly ever said his name then and yet she’d called him, sensing that cauldron’s intent in her gut, in her bones.

Obliterated, he remembered. His comrades had been obliterated, and he had been fine. More than fine. He could still feel that aching sorrow.  

Cassian wondered if Nesta felt it too. Perhaps not the same pain, but she’d wanted to help Ada... kicked and screamed her way through.  

But her next words surprised him, and the space between his brows crinkled in concern.  

“I have nowhere to go,” She blurted out, her eyes blinking slowly as she looked at him. Stray pieces of her hair blew across her face and she swiped it away, tucking it behind her ears until he could see the pointy tip. “I have nowhere to go. I--”

Cassian sat beside her; his wings careful not to brush her form. He could smell the scent of her—lavender soap and crisp winters, fresh air and pine. He watched as she laid her chin in her palm, her knees bouncing quickly as if she were agitated, and maybe she was, because Nesta rarely stumbled on her words.

She didn’t look at him as she continued. Her hand moved to her mouth, her teeth biting down on the nail of her thumb. Cassian watched in awe at the movement. Perhaps without even knowing, she’d shown him another one of her habits and Cassian wrote it down in that seemingly short list of everything he knew about Nesta Archeron.  

“Feyre doesn’t want me there. Your High Lord hates me. I have no prospects or money or a place to say. Amren doesn’t even want to look at me.” Nesta shook her head and Cassian thought he might have seen regret, but it flashed away as soon as it began. “I can’t go back there. So where do I go?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Nesta jumped up, walking a few paces and then turning back around. Cassian watched the movement with rapt attention.

“I’m back where I started five years.” She whispered, her voice going shrill, her eyes wide and bold enough that he wanted to rush to her and hold her close. A forbidden act that Cassian quickly pushed away. Nesta would never allow his touch. “Starving, and alone in that little cabin.”

“You weren’t alone. You had Elain. Feyre...”  

“What good did that do?” She screeched, lowering her eyes to floor as she shook incessantly. “You know after my mother died; Elain wouldn’t stop crying. Every day she’d cry, and cry and I’d wanted to slap her then. As cruel as that is... Stop crying, I’d wanted to say, you’re not the one dead.”

Nesta clenched her eyes shut, her fists rolling into balls. Her lips curled in a grimace.

“And Feyre... Feyre wouldn’t stop asking questions as young as she was... What can I do? How should we fix this? How can we help father? What can we sell? As if I did not spend so much time asking the same.” Her gaze hardened, and Cassian imagined bricks forming around a small girl. As young as Feyre had been when she’d hunted, maybe younger still. Wall after wall began to be built and Cassian saw Nesta in there, pounding at the bricks as she spoke.

“But you know what was worse?”  

Cassian stayed very still as she zeroed in on him. Her eyes-tinged red.  

“We spent so much time trying to help my father, and he still ruined it all.” Nesta covered her eyes with her palms, and Cassian saw Nesta crawl over him in his memory. The softness of her body covering all of his pain, shielding him from anymore. They’d go together. Not because they deserved a good end, but because they wanted to hold on to something that was good and decent. What had she held onto when she was merely a child? What had she kept?  

“I can’t forgive him for what he did.” She admitted softly, darkness seeping into those bitter blues. And maybe that was the problem in all of this—that they had wanted her to forgive—to forget. But Nesta could not forget and neither could Cassian when all he thought about was his comrades dying and a soft kiss in the middle of a battlefield.

Cassian’s chest felt heavy and he swallowed so she wouldn’t hear how rough his voice had gotten.

“Then don’t,” He replied. Nesta looked up at him, kicking up the snow with her boot as she looked him over, seemingly shocked that he did not berate her or make her see a new point of view. If that’s what she was hoping for, she wasn’t getting it from him.

“Don’t,” Cassian repeated, shaking his head. The conviction rising in his words. “You’re your own person… do whatever you want to do. Forgive your father. Don't forgive him. Be mad. Don’t be mad. Leave to Velaris or stay here with me or… leave to who knows where.”  

“I already told you about the feasibility of leaving.”  

“No, you listed all the reasons it would be hard to do so. You are not in that cabin, starving and alone. You are not alone here, Nesta. And if Velaris is not where you want to be, then I will take you somewhere else. If you want me to go collect things from your father’s house and sell them I will. If you need money, I have that.”

Fuck Rhys and Feyre and the rules. Fuck Elain, too, and himself. Fuck them all, he raged. Fuck them all for making her feel like she had no choices.

Nesta’s shoulders rolled back as she straightened, her arms crossing in defiance. “They’ll never let you help me.”

“I don’t need their permission,” Cassian retorted, suddenly angry at the female in front of him, though he didn’t understand why. He stepped to her slowly, closing his eyes as he breathed in the harsh winter air.

When he blinked, she was in front of him. Her eyes the color of pale skies, bright and filled with caution.

“I want you…” he breathed, swallowing his apprehension, “I want you to find happiness in things. I enjoy you angry, yes, that’s true.”  

She scoffed, but that darkness that had hovered over her these months, that had trailed behind her like some veil covering her golden hair, began to lift and Cassian saw her… Maybe just a small part of her, but a part he wanted to get to know. To memorize.  

"I don’t think you’ll ever be less annoyed with me and I hope you don’t, but I don’t want this... hostility between us anymore. This... mountain we can’t get over.”

“I am not your friend,” she reminded him softly, her lips pursed and pink. He knew what she meant.  

“I’d do it for anyone,” Cassian reminded her.

Nesta raised a brow. “I won’t make my decision now.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“But when I do—”

“I’ll be there,” Cassian promised.

I’ll be there always.

Cassian promised.

~

Tagged:  @my-fan-side  @ekaterinakostrova  @anastasia-orlov @lord-douglas-the-third @autumnsletters @soitsgorgeous @sjm-things @courtofjurdan @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives  @queenestarcheron @allilal

~

Well some things had to progress in this fic or nothing would have progressed so Cassian and Nesta have reached an understanding of some sorts. It’s a slow process who knows what will happen next (shrugs)

Unfortunately/Not so unfortunately, I’m stopping for a bit, for a week or two to finish the last part of the Nesta’s Love is Quiet trilogy. I have no idea how that’s going to go, since I abhor endings, but it will be the first fic I’ve ever finished so that’ll be fun!

I hope you liked this chapter, but if not please don’t tell me lol. 

Like, comment, reblog!!!!

Happy Reading!

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Can You Imagine? II

A/N: Answers are finally coming, a bit! Freydis has some adjustments to make, but she’s beginning to adjust, and we’ll get to learn more about what exactly is going on here... Let’s find out, yeah? Skål!

Summary: Freydis was dead. At least, when she’d lost consciousness, she’d been sure she was. But now she has woken up in a cold, sterile environment, one she is certain is not Valhalla, and the world as she once knew it has changed. People now have strange abilities, some of them, and people they call ‘scientists’ are trying to give them to her. The bigger issue, though, is the fact they have also woken the very man who killed her. Ivar the Boneless lives again as well, in the same way Freydis does, and if they want to survive... she may have to learn to trust him again.

Warnings: Hospital-like environments, mad science, injections, needles, bloodwork, human experimentation, etc. Old Norse in Italics!

Masterlist

--

The Room Where It Happens

Freydis woke in yet another room, this one almost a mix of the two she’d woken in thus far. The bed she was laid on was made of a strange material, with a papery sort of material separating her from the bed itself. It was dark in the room, but not as dark as the room with the comfortable bed- this was due to the window in this room, from which light came through. However, there were still all sorts of strange things in the room, some of which had strange sounds coming from them, much like the first room.

She noticed after a moment or two that there was a hard thing covering one of her fingers, and a tube ran up to her opposite arm, ending in something sharp- a needle, it looked like- that was inserted in the crook of her arm. Some sort of liquid was being dropped into the tube, and she wanted to jump at the sight, to pull the needle out of her arm. But, however much she wanted to, she felt… too tired to really do anything about it. A small groan left her, and she turned her head to look straight up at the ceiling.

There was a vague awareness in her that she should be panicking, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to- just as she couldn’t bring herself to pull out the needle. Everything felt slow, including her movements as simple as blinking her eyes. Instead of the cry for help she wanted to let out, she started to giggle.

This whole thing was absurd actually, wasn’t it? Perhaps she had survived Ivar’s attempt on her life, and was now in a very strange dream, waiting to wake and discover she still lived. Or maybe, maybe Ivar had never tried to kill her. Perhaps everything before the birth of their little Baldur was true, and she hadn’t even had him yet. Perhaps when she woke, her belly would be swollen with child, and she would have that child, and bear a perfect son that Ivar would be proud of.

All of this, it would pass as a very strange nightmare that one day she would tell him of. And the fear at seeing his chest fill once more with breath, it was all a product of this strange dream. When she woke, she would be delighted to see that all was well, and nothing had ever gone wrong.

The thought that she was being silly to be so afraid made her begin to laugh even harder, her eyes slipping shut. “You gods…” she began, grinning. “Loki, is this you behind this dream? It must be, I cannot think of any other tricksters in all Asgard who would do such a thing.”

When the door to the room opened, the woman in the strange coat, along with the man who she understood, stepped inside, Freydis laughed more. “And now you send these beings to… It cannot be to torment me, they say they are my friends,” she mused. “To tease me? I did not know I was of such interest to you.”

The two shared a concerned look as they saw her seemingly talking to herself. “Queen Freydis..?” the man prompted tentatively. “Are you alright? Who are you talking to?”

“Shhh,” she hushed, her eyes going dramatically wide. “I am praying to Loki. He must be the one behind all this, and I would like to wake now. I want to wake and be with my baby and with Ivar.”

The man blinked a few times, before turning to speak to the woman with him. They conversed for a few moments, in a language Freydís did not know, and she frowned deeply. “It is.. it is rude to speak secretly before your Queen,” she chastised. “I demand to know what you are saying. You must be talking about me, or you would let me hear you.”

The man swallowed. “My apologies, Queen Freydis. My colleague, Dr. Schmidt, doesn’t speak Old Norse. You don’t… you don’t remember that from a few hours ago?”

Freydis huffed slightly. “Of course I remember,” she said. “But I have determined this is only a dream, and as such, I think she should be able to speak Norwegian. It is stupid that she cannot.”

“You are the one who doesn’t speak Norwegian, I’m afraid,” he said. “You speak Old Norse. Norwegian is something of an evolved form of that language.”

Freydis made a sound that indicated her attention was lost. “Loki is being very creative in this trick, I see,” she said. “Oh well. It will soon be over.”

The man exchanged a few words with the woman, who Freydis now knew was called Dr. Schmidt, and then nodded. Dr. Schmidt came closer to her and began to mess with the bag fron which the liquid dropped into the tube, which flowed into her arm. More of the liquid began to drop down, becoming a more steady stream.

“You’re right, Your Highness,” the man said. “This will all be over soon.”

Freydis gave a little giggle, and nodded. “And I will tell my husband of the strange thing Loki did to me tonight,” she said, just before drifting back into unconsciousness.

Dr. Schmidt and her professor colleague shared a look. Then, once they were certain Freydis was completely unconscious, she changed out the liquid that she was administering to Freydis. This one was of a rather golden hue, and she only put so much into her. She took the time then to start an IV in Freydis’s hand, one that would stay until they no longer needed it.

Once all the liquid had drained into the Viking, Dr. Schmidt removed the IV in her arm, and called for some of the workers in the facility to return Freydis to her ‘room’. It was truthfully more of a cell, but they wouldn’t be calling it that to her. She didn’t need to realise she was a prisoner.

It was back in that room, with the most comfortable of the beds, that Freydis woke again. Her entire body ached from the inside out, as it she had a fever, the sort that rendered large warriors unable to leave their beds. She curled in on herself, shaking slightly under the blankets that had been laid over her.

Now that she’d recovered her mind, all of her wanted to cry out, to weep for whatever she was going through, for fear of the fact Ivar lived again. If he found out where she was, no doubt he would come and try to finish what he had begun. The very idea terrified her.

But, she could show these people no fear. So she swallowed thickly, and hardened herself to whatever horrors she had yet to face. The burning in her body didn’t ease, but she still tried to make herself become more used to it. She rolled onto her back, groaned a little with the effort under her fatigue. When she laid her hand up by her head, she finally noticed a slight stinging sensation.

Freydis moved her hand to look at it. There was a little tube protruding from it, twisted around and somehow held against her hand- bandaged, from the looks of it. She frowned a little, poking at it, and the door opened. It was the man once more.

“I wouldn’t poke at it,” he told her. “It’ll only make it hurt. Trust me, I’ve made that mistake plenty of times.”

Freydis narrowed her eyes. “Trust you?” she questioned. “You have given me no reason to trust you. Why should I?”

He chuckled a little, and grimaced. “Ah, I don’t suppose I have, have I?” he asked, almost sheepishly. “My name is Professor Andersen. I’ve been studying Old Scandinavian culture for most of my adult life- specialising in the early Middle Ages- so, the 500s through the 900s. This… includes the Golden Age of the Vikings. Your people.”

“You speak as if it is many years since this time,” she said. “Is it?”

“Yes…” he answered, grimacing. “It is currently the year 2021.” Freydis looked at him as if he was insane.

“What is in you that you speak such things?” she questioned him. “This cannot be. That would be over a thousand years after I lived in Kattegat.”

“Well… it has been,” he said. “You were found dead by the Sons of Ragnar after the Siege of Kattegat. No one really… knows how you died, but it’s assumed you must have died trying to defend the Kingdom, since you were entombed as a hero. Is that true?”

Freydis swallowed hard as she recalled her death, at the hands of the husband she had once loved more than anything, the monster she created. Telling this man what really happened could end up resulting in the same fate again. If she did anything to displease them, they could use his presence against her. No, she had to behave as though nothing had happened between them. Nothing like that.

“It is,” she lied. “And I would do it again.”

Professor Andersen nodded. “That’s why we found you entombed with your husband, then. Records put his death in the Battle of Edington, documented by a man called Athelstan.”

Freydis put on a hurt face, as if hearing how Ivar had died made her chest ache. It didn’t. In reality, she didn’t feel as though she cared overly much.

“I am glad to hear he died in battle,” she said. “That is what he had always wanted.”

Professor Andersen smiled. “And now, he lives, just as you. And we’re making you both far better. I think you’ll like what we have in store for you.”

“Do you?” Freydis questioned. She barely kept herself from saying he must not have been paying much attention, if that were true.

He nodded. “You both seem to have been quite amazing warriors, to have been buried how you were. Athelstan noted your sacrifice for Kattegat, and your husband’s leadership of its military, after the death of King Harald Finehair. Apparently, he also saved the people from turning against each other.”

She decided then that this ‘Athelstan’ must have been a fanatic of Ivar’s, to hail him as such a hero.

“It makes me proud to hear his accomplishments,” she lied yet again, and Professor Andersen grinned.

“Good,” he said. “Now tell me, how do you feel, hm? Are you doing alright?”

“I feel feverish,” she confessed. May as well try and get some assistance, if he was going to offer. “My body aches with it.”

He nodded, opening a notebook and writing in it. “That is to be expected,” he told her. “Unfortunately, it will need to run its course, to have the desired effect.”

Desired effect…?

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Oh, I mentioned that we were… making you better, yes? Enhancing you?”

Freydis nodded skeptically.

“We’ve already started this with you,” he answered. “We’re going to be administering a serum once a week to you, and later that week, checking your blood to be sure it’s taking to you as it should. If it has, we’ll continue, if not, we’ll need to analyse your blood, figure out why, and try again. You received your first dose of it today.”

Freydis looked at him as if he were mad. “How can you enhance me beyond how I have been formed by the gods?” she almost demanded.

“They didn’t give you the best way to defend yourself, to help others, did they?” he pointed out. “Otherwise, you’d have survived the Siege of Kattegat. So, we’re giving you that ability. After a few doses, you should have enough that you’ll be able to see the effect of it.”

“And that will be all?” she questioned hesitantly, which made him chuckle.

“Oh, of course not,” he said. “Then we’ll be able to learn from you, so we can improve the serum, and maybe one day use it to create a better military. Don’t worry, though. This isn’t without incentive. If you go along with this willingly, we’ll… have a special surprise for you. A good one, I promise.”

“And if I don’t?” she pressed.

Professor Andersen gave a small shrug. “Then there’ll be a bad surprise. I really do suggest you comply, Freydis. It’ll be better for everyone.”

Somehow, she got the feeling he meant Ivar.

—

Weeks and weeks passed, and Freydis learned quickly indeed not to try and resist anything these people wanted to do to her. She had begun to understand more of the language- especially as many of her hours were spent with Professor Andersen, being taught to speak in Norwegian. It was easy enough for her, since it was so similar to Old Norse. But she missed the way her mother tongue sounded on her lips.

“How are you feeling today, Freydis?”

The consequences of this were that she could now understand Dr. Schmidt, who currently had a needle in her arm, taking the blood from her. She swallowed, and shrugged.

“The same as always,” she answered. “I didn’t burn as much this week.”

Dr. Schmidt smiled at this and nodded, switching out the vial so she could take another sample. “That’s good,” she said. The woman had a strangely maternal way about her, and Freydis found that she didn’t dislike her the way she had when she’d first arrived.

Once she’d taken enough blood, she shook the vials up, and told Freydis she’d return shortly. It was the same every week.

The Viking woman rubbed at the bandage now wrapped around her arm, and sighed. This was the part where Dr. Schmidt always returned, told her they weren’t quite there, and had her returned to her room, where she’d wait on Professor Andersen. Her routine had grown rather boring, if not reliable.

When the doctor returned this time, she seemed far more pleased than she’s ever seemed yet. “I need you to follow me,” she said. “We’ve finally reached the point where there should be some real change.”

She waved for Freydis to follow her, as requested, and started toward a door Freydis had not yet been allowed through. Freydis frowned slightly, but got up and followed her.

Through the door was another one of what Freydis had learned was called an ‘observation room’, and then there was an empty room that it observed.

Well, mostly empty.

There were some blocks, boxes, and various things of the sort, all that looked rather soft. She didn’t know what their purpose was, and tilted her head slightly. “Go on in there please, Freydis,” Dr. Schmidt said. Freydis nodded and again did as told.

She stood silently in the room, waiting until she would be told what to do. After a few moments, she was given directions.

“Okay, can you focus on that pile of foam bricks for me?” Dr. Schmidt requested. Freydis turned to look at them, and focused. “Really focus on them, that’s right. Put as much focus into them as you can. Focus on their size, their build, how they look, how you think they’d feel… until you can actually feel them.”

“I cannot feel them,” Freydis said. “I’m not touching them.”

“I know,” Dr. Schmidt replied. “I want you to feel them without touching them.” Freydis frowned, but did the best she could to fulfill the request made of her. “If you need to, go ahead and put out your hands. See if that helps.”

Freydis nodded and did this. She let her hands flex a bit, trying to feel the bricks as instructed. Whether it was her imagination or not, her brows creased a little. Dr. Schmidt smiled and wrote something down. “Now lift them,” she was instructed. “Feel them, and without moving toward them, lift them.”

This only brought even more confusion to the woman, but she did all she could to do as she was asked. Something began to pour out of her fingers, something that looked much like a red smoke, and her heart jumped. Not letting herself stop, Freydis moved her hands, guided it almost instinctively, until the smoke surrounded the blocks.

She lifted her hands, and one by one, the blocks moved with them. The red smoke surrounded them, bent to do what she wanted, and she finally realised this is what Professor Andersen meant when he said she’d be enhanced. Somehow, they had given her abilities she could only imagine a god having. A god or…

Or a Völva.

These people had made her a Völva, from the looks of it. The bricks were floating in the air still at her command, and she blinked a few times. The blinking broke her concentration, and they fell.

“I- I lost my focus,” she said. “Let me try-”

“Oh, no, that was incredible, Freydis,” Dr. Schmidt interrupted. “I couldn’t be happier with your progress. Go on back to your room and rest, I’ll have something sent over early for you to snack on.”

Freydis nodded a little, still slightly dazed. She didn’t know what had just happened, but she got the feeling these people were messing with things and forces they couldn’t understand.

And giving a prisoner abilities like this… that was only going to backfire.

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March 15, 2021: Clash of the Titans (Review: Part One)

Please. Let me write a Greek mythology movie. I’m tired.

I am SO TIRED of Greek mythology being so...misused. Do y’all realize how much potential lies in an adaptation, a PROPER adaptation of Greek myths? Because it’d be fantastic if done well. Look, I’m not a writer, let alone a script or screenwriter, but I could write a better adaptation of Greek mythology, I swear I could.

Full warning, you might wanna skip this part. It’s gonna be...REALLY long. 

So, yeah, this “review” is getting broken up into two parts. The first part here is really just a rant/hypothetical Perseus film that Id make if I had any screenwriting ability. Yeah, it’s basically a fanfic, so feel free to, like, not. Check out the Review here. Read ahead at your own peril.

You might be saying, “OK, bet; how would you adapt the story of Perseus?” Fair question, metaphorical yet judgmental person; how would I do it, exactly? Well, I’d mostly do it straight, to be honest. But you need to make this a cinematic adaptation, right? SO story changed need to be made, I get that. And I think that needs to start with the gods.

First up, you need Zeus, if for no other reason than to father Perseus. I do like the fact that he’s a patron for Perseus throughout these movies, but I don’t like Zeus as a straight-up dad. That’s for various reasons, but I’ll get there. Perseus’ main patron, instead, should be his half-sister: Athena.

Seriously, Athena needs to be a big part of this movie. She’s not exactly one of the biggest patrons for heroes, but she does like them. In the case of Perseus, she should sympathize with him. Perseus, after all, is one of the first major Greek heroes. Yeah, he really should be one of the first, and that needs to be fully acknowledged. Athena, in her LITERAL INFINITE WISDOM, should see the young demigod for what he could become: a bonafide hero. And so, she needs to be a part of this movie. One of her key allies should be...

Hermes should be, well, mercurial. Always moving, never truly still, because dude is CONSTANTLY busy. Not only is he a messenger, but he’s also the god of medicine, AND a psychopomp that escorts spirits to the underworld. Yeah, he wears a lot of winged hats. He’s also another extramarital child of Zeus, giving him sympathy for Perseus as well.

While he’s mostly a neutral god, he could also serve as a messenger from Athena to Perseus, delivering to him the gifts from the gods. He could even be the one who gets the Helm of Darkness from Hades, given his relationship to death and the Underworld. So, he’s gotta be in there as an ally of Athena. Hell, he could even be the one who finds Perseus and tells Athena about him in the first place. OK, Athena and Perseus now have an ally, so what about a villain?

Well, this movie had Calibos and technically Thetis, the 2010 had fuckin’ Hades (because of course they did), but no. Both are the wrong choice. The right choice here, in my humble opinion, is one that MAKES FUCKING SENSE.

Hot take: POSEIDON IS AN ASSHOLE. I realize that this statement has doomed me to a death at sea, but that won’t stop me from hiding the truth. Yeah, dude’s the god of the ocean, and of horses, but he’s also the father of countless monsters, nearly as horny as his younger brother Zeus, and the god of earthquakes. He’s a petty, tempestuous god, as angry and ever-changing as the ocean that he rules. And he’s ABSOLUTELY the right choice for a villain of a Perseus movie.

The movie would begin in the ocean, the source of all of the troubles in this movie. 20 years before the main events of the film, we emerge from the ocean and soar over an island, on which is a beautiful temple. Waves wash over the island, enveloping it. A woman’s scream is heard in the background, as we soar over the island, following an owl that is flying away from the island. As we fly over the ocean, narration tells us that this is a world of gods and monsters, and the owl flies over creatures in the ocean, like hippocampi and other such creatures. The owl flies over another island, which on screen text identifies as Argos. Here, a shower of gold dust flies up from a building. Perseus has just been conceived.

Cut to a day not too far afterwards, where King Acrisius is meeting with an unseen trio of women, in a cave on a mountainside. The king tells them that his daughter, Danae, has become pregnant, although he knows not by whom. The women reveal that Zeus is her lover, and that this will bring great ruin onto the kingdom of Argos, especially onto Acrisius himself. This is a big problem, too, as the kingdom of Argos worships Poseidon as their patron god. Acrisius, see, was planning on saving Danae for Poseidon, as a perverse offering to the god. But Zeus beat him to the punch, which has made Poseidon angry. And so, Acrisius sacrifices his daughter to Poseidon...by putting her in a box, which he casts out to sea.

Poseidon is about to destroy the box and Danae, who is still pregnant with her child. However, Zeus won’t have it, and in a battle between the two gods, a storm with golden lightning rages over the sea, and sweeps the box away, to the safety of an island where it washes up on shore, AWAY from Poseidon’s wrath. Zeus’ protection saves Danae, who has given birth to a son: Perseus. Poseidon, spurned of his revenge against his brother, makes a child of his own. But we only see its shadow beneath the waves. He’ll come back later.

Time passes, and a few things happen. The kingdom of Argos falls, and Acrisius is brought to ruin, as the mysterious prophetesses predicted. They are starved of fish, and the king is blamed, for condemning his daughter to death. He is driven into exile, and Argos is destroyed...by Poseidon’s mysterious child, who is only known by the name Cetus. The city still exists afterward, so that Perseus has a place to return to, but it’s wrecked.

Meanwhile, Perseus grows up, into a young man. He’s not particularly strapping, but he’s still surprisingly strong and hardy for his size. All the while, he’s watched over by a little owl, the same one we saw in the beginning of the film, flying over the ocean. Appearing below the owl is a rooster, which flies up next to the owl. Both of them watch the young Perseus, then look up when they hear the screech of a golden eagle, flying high in the sky above them. They look at each other, as the eagle flies up to the tip of a nearby mountain. The owl and rooster fly off, with the rooster flying higher than a rooster should be able to fly.

We follow them as they pass through the clouds, and they turn into their true forms: Athena and Hermes. They watch the golden eagle fly into a separate grand temple, as thunder and lightning appear. We’re not gonna see Zeus until nearly the end of this movie. Athena and Hermes discuss Perseus in Athena’s temple on Olympus. Hermes is a bit busy, so he’s off in a hurry, but Athena sits and ponders Perseus’ situation.

Perseus, meanwhile, has a different problem: surviving. Poseidon’s been particularly dickish lately, and the fish stock around Perseus’ island is low as FUCK. His mother, meanwhile, is older now, and struggling with her health. An old hermit walks into the village one day, and hears Perseus’ troubles. The hermit tells Perseus that the fish market is good near the nearby kingdom of Aethiopia, which includes a large and prosperous city that may also have medicine to help his ailing mother. Perseus decides to go on the journey there. As he leaves the hermit, we see the hermit’s eye color change to a sparkling electric blue.

Perseus heads onto the seas, with a fishing boat leaving for Aethiopia. The second that boat hits the water, Poseidon senses the blood of Zeus on his ocean. Being the petty asshole he is, he sees his chance to finally exact revenge on Zeus for stealing Danae from him. He sends his child, Cetus, after the ship to sink it. We don’t see the  Cetus brings rough water with it. However, Zeus again protects the ship on its journey, and Poseidon’s SUPER butthurt now. He watches Perseus make his way to Aethiopia.

Aethiopia, in this movie, is a city that doesn’t particularly worship any one god. It’s not exactly the least theistic place in the world, though, because its residents will still fear any action that the gods take against them. That’ll come in handy later. Perseus lands there with the boat, and is immediately overwhelmed by the city’s grandeur. Additionally, he stands out here, as the people there are mostly, surprise surprise, black and brown in skin color. BECAUSE IT’S NORTHERN AFRICA!!! YEAH! Andromeda COULD BE BLACK, FUN GODDAMN FACT. Aethiopia was used to describe southern kingdoms below Libya, which was northern Africa! Come on, man!

While wandering blind through the city, Perseus bumps into a young woman, shrouded in plain vestments as she walks through the village. And it’s immediately love at first sight for Perseus, although the young woman seems somewhat nonplussed. This is the beautiful and radiant Andromeda, and YEAH! I’M RIPPING OFF ALADDIN A LITTLE! SUE MEI! See, Andromeda’s trying to explore her kingdom, as she’s been somewhat sheltered throughout her life, protected in the castle by father King Cepheus and shallow mother Queen Cassiopeia.

The two part quickly, but her visage remains in Perseus’ mind, horny Zeus’ kid that he is. He finds out who she is later on, considering what’s about to happen. See, there’s a festival going on, and it’s actually leading up to Andromeda’s 20th birthday. The overly clingy Cepheus honors his daughter unnecessarily, setting up an entire 2-week celebration leading up to her birthday.

During the nightly celebration, which Perseus attends, there’s a great feast. He bumps into Andromeda once again, and the two start talking. Andromeda is kind, if naïve, and wants to be a good queen to her people. However, she feels like a trophy, set aside for any given suitor wanting to win her heart. Perseus sympathizes, and feels a bit guilty, as her beauty was what struck him most at first, but has now begun to appreciate her as a person, over the course of this conversation. Said conversation is watched by Athene, in owl form once again.

The conversation’s interrupted by Queen Cassiopeia, who makes a speech about her daughter, and you know what’s coming here. She says that her daughter is beautiful, moreso than any of the Nereids, or anything that the sea could produce. And everybody laughs, it’s real funny, people agree...and then, we zoom over to a nearby fountain. The water begins to shake, and then, the ground itself begins to shake! Because Poseidon is the GOD OF EARTHQUAKES. COME ON, USE THIS SHIT!

Poseidon, pissed off, manifests from the water of the fountain, and we now see his visage in full for the first time, and it needs to be IMPOSING. He looks at the queen, and at Andromeda herself. He says that for Cassiopeia’s hubris, they are to be punished. Her child will meet one of his, the great Cetus, and then they’ll be able to compare “prowess and beauty”. This is certain death for Andromeda, obviously, and everybody knows it. This is to be done on her 20th birthday, or all of Aethiopia will fall. It’s then that Perseus steps in to defend Andromeda.

Poseidon looks at him, and says something like: “And look! As if to perfect this offering, Zeus’ bastard steps in the save the day! Well, child, do you offer yourself to me, after evading my justice for so long?” Everybody, INCLUDING PERSEUS, if totally shaken by this revelation. See, Perseus had NO IDEA that he was the child of Zeus. But he swallows his surprise, and offers himself in Andromeda’s stead. As Poseidon’s about to kill him there and then, he hears a hoot from the rafters, and sees the visage of Athena overlapping the little owl. Not comfortable with this situation, he offers a deal: if Perseus can complete a task for him, he will spare Andromeda’s life. Perseus accepts IMMEDIATELY, without hearing the task. And that task?

Kill the Gorgon Medusa, and bring her head back to Aethiopia before Andromeda is sacrificed.

Yeah, not good, and definitely unfair. Perseus isn’t exactly a warrior of any prowess, so this won’t end well for him. Poseidon laughs, and disappears into the water of the fountain. Silence befalls the hall, and all eyes turn to Perseus. Athena leaves, and flies up to her temple, angry and frustrated. She then decides that, if Poseidon is going to meddle in the affairs of the mortal world so strongly, then she will do the same. She finds Hermes, and the two start to conspire.

The next morning, Perseus heads out on the journey, although he has no idea what to do. Andromeda begs him not to do it, but he says he has little to lose. King Cepheus, humbled by Perseus’ intentions, promises whatever Perseus wants if he succeeds. Perseus states that he wants little, but will take assistance for his mother and village. It’s done. And Andromeda, to the surprise of her mother, almost offers her hand in marriage to her as well. But she stops short, still hesitant.

Perseus is about to go the distance, when a little owl catches his eye. Something tells him to follow the owl, and he does. Athena reveals herself, and Perseus is struck, not knowing what to do. She tells him to find the Greae, as they will tell him how to get to Medusa. He asks how he will get there, and Athena gives him his first divine item: Hermes’ winged sandals, loaned to him by the messenger god himself. The sandals will guide him to the location of the sisters. And Perseus accepts.

He makes his way to the sisters, the shenanigans with the eye stay about the same (it’s pretty solid in the 1981 film, not gonna lie), and from there, he finds out where to go. In the meantime, Athena’s and Perseus’ deeds are being noticed by the gods, eventually making their way to the three brothers. Poseidon is, of course, enraged at these happenings, considering them dishonorable to him, and also incensed as this is coming from Athena, a long-standing rival of his. Hades seems neutral about it. And Zeus...we’ll come back to him. Hermes, joined by Dionysus, speaks with Athena in Olympus, and delivers something to her to give to Perseus: Hades’ Helm of Darkness. He’s curiously chosen a side, but why isn’t known even to Hermes. Will that reason ever be revealed?

I have my reasons. Dionysus, also inspired by Perseus’ origins (which mirror his own as well), gives to Athena a wine-colored cloak, impervious to harm from all poisons and corrosive items. Inspired by this, Athena thinks on her history with Medusa. And, uh...remember that scream from the beginning? Yeah, Medusa’s “birth” coincides with Perseus’ conception. While Poseidon was...busy...Zeus went for Danae behind his back. And we’re going to sanitize Medusa’s origin...a little. But for Athena’s sake, specifically.

Poseidon raped Medusa. That’s a given. And Medusa was a priestess of Athena, but not a great one. Although Athena was angered at Poseidon’s actions GREATLY, the one who inevitably suffered for it was Medusa. Poisoned by Poseidon’s actions, she was transformed into her current form. And in this case, it’s not made clear whether or not Athena directly caused it...but it’s clear that Athena did nothing to stop it. This can be changed in some ways, but this is how I’m changing it for the movie. If you disagree, entirely understandable, I’m open to suggestions here.

OK, after that flashback, we see that Athena’s kind of ashamed of her actions, but not entirely. I realize that this is a stretch for Athena’s character, but this is a movie for wider audiences, so we’ll go for it. There’s a reason, I promise. Athena delivers the gifts to Perseus, which he finds once he’s left the cave of the Greae. That’s the cloak from Dionysus, the Helm of Darkness from Hades, and Athena’s offering, a mirrored shield. Perseus heads out to slay Medusa.

Poseidon, meanwhile, has his own ideas. He goes to speak with Hera, a shadow antagonist who’ll get her day later on. He persuades her to help take care of Zeus’ bastard son, and she reluctantly gives him permission to use one of her creations. What this is is left a mystery for the time being, but not for long. Perseus is busy flying with the winged sandals, and is thinking on how easy the journey has been. He’s getting a little cocky, in other words. But that’s quickly stopped when he’s blind-sided by something hitting him in the sky. He’s sent flying, and when he focuses up again, he sees what’s hit him.

YUP. HARPIES. Now, at this point, you may be saying: “365, you hypocrite! That never happened in the original story of Perseus! You sonuvabitch!” To that I say:

This is supposed to be a movie, and it’s gotta be a little exciting.

The origin of the harpies is entirely unstated, and Hera loved her some birds, so it makes sense that she would have some. In fact, I kind of want to make them women that Hera punished with this form, possibly for their association with Zeus at some point.

I’m setting something up, just trust me here.

Harpies as a concept are a familiar enemy to most audiences.

They’re cool, and an aerial battle’s even cooler here.

Perseus needs some mortal peril, because of something that’s about to happen.

OK. With that, the Harpies attack Perseus, and Perseus realizes that he doesn’t have a weapon to fight them with. He’s forced aground, on a seemingly desrted island. The Harpies fly off for now, ready to pick Perseus off later. Perseus, now stuck on the island, wanders around. At the same time, Zeus, sees this, and turns into an eagle once again. He flies off to a volcano, as an irritated Hera looks on. At the volcano, he flies into a cave, lined with veins of many metals. This is Hephaestus’ forge.

Hephaestus is another of those gods that I feel like never gets his day in court. There are many reasons for that, to be fair, but I’d like him to have a role in this story. He’s a relatively neutral god, mostly caring about his work at the anvil, moreso than anything else. I also like the idea of having him almost be a running joke in his scenes, in that he always comes up with devices far beyond their time. Like, at a certain point, he offers something for Zeus to give to Perseus, which he calls a “thunderblast”. And it’s a fucking CANNON, YEARS ahead of its time. You also see sketches for smaller versions, which are just straight up guns. But, y’know, eus will refuse that.

Speaking of that, THIS is the first time that we’ll see Zeus’ true face, lit by the light of the forge. And there are a few reasons for this, one of which being that Zeus’ casting should be a big name, and a surprise in marketing. But other than that, Zeus’ really shouldn’t have too much import in the story, outside of Perseus’ creation. However, looking at Hephaestus, who is himself a cast-out and neglected offspring of the gods, Zeus actually manages to eke out a little guilt for his actions for one. He asks Hephaestus to make something for him and Perseus. Hephaestus is hesitant, but agrees upon hearing about Perseus’ origins, because Hephaestus is ALSO HIS HALF-BROTHER...in this movie. Hephaestus’ origin has changed in different tellings, but I want him to be Zeus’ kid. So, yeah, Hephaestus agrees to make something...simple.

Perseus is on the island. There, he’s being watched by YET ANOTHER mysterious figure. Because, yeah, that’s how these people should work. See, there’s another benefactor for him that I want to bring in for various reasons. This island appears to have been inhabited at some point, but was abandoned for unknown reasons. Perseus wanders around, and stumbles upon a ruined Great Hall, open to the sky. He wanders in, nervously. But then, to his surprise, he sees a great feast before him, as a fire roars in the hearth at the end of the hall. He looks at the fire for a moment, and sees a woman tending it. But as the fire bursts, it produces a flash of light, and the woman is gone. Who was she, though?

The LEAST used and talked about goddess in all of pop culture. An unofficial/occasional Olympian, and far less popular than Dionysus, who usually takes her seat. I actually want her to have given Dionysus her seat, as she will be wandering the world, bestowing blessings on the households of those worthy mortals who honor her. To Perseus, she gives this gift, and this hall with maintain this gift in the future. This goddess is Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth and Home.

AND YES I AM AWARE OF HESTIA IN THE ANIME DANMACHA. Doesn’t goddamn count, because that obviously isn’t Hestia. The Greek goddess deserves some respect, as she’s literally the oldest of all of them, and was VERY respected in Greek culture, by LITERALLY EVERYBODY. So, yeah, Hestia’s going to appear here, ever so briefly.

The other reason for this is...well, the Harpies show up, as Perseus eats. They perch on the roof of the Great Hall, and watch him eat. He notices them, and as he reacts, they come down to take the food and attack him. Perseus realizes that the food has revitalized his weary body, and he runs. However, the Harpies prevent egress, and he still has no weapon. Until...

Thunder clashes, and lightning strikes in the middle of the Great Hall! The fire goes out, but light is coming from something in the center of the table, as Perseus and the Harpies look on. With the lightning bolt, there traveled a harpe, a type of sword, which is embedded in the table. But this is no ordinary sword, as it chines silver, almost blue in hue, as electricity arcs off of it. This is a divine sword, forged by Hephaestus on the order of Zeus himself.

But the sword is nameless...for now. Perseus uses the flashes of the sword to fend off the harpies. When one of them lunges at him, he quickly moves in response to it, and strikes it just, slicing off a wing. The other Harpies fly away in fear, but not too far. Perseus takes the opportunity, and leaves the great Hall, maybe grabbing some food on the way. Now armed, he has a way to kill Medusa, and to take her head. He heads to the island, with new purpose.

Meanwhile, in Aethiopia, the people are starting to panic. Remember when I said the city wasn’t particularly religious before? WELL THEY ARE NOW, since they’ve realized that they’ve profaned Poseidon with their arrogance. The vain Cassiopeia is now terrified, for herself rather than for her daughter. Cepheus is terrified for Andromeda, and Andromeda...well, Andromeda is putting hope in Perseus, but she is also prepared to sacrifice herself if necessary. But deep down, she doesn’t believe it will be, because she oddly believes in Perseus.

However, Cepheus won’t be able to hold off the hordes forever, It’s been nearly a week, and Andromeda is to be sacrificed soon. And if Cepheus won’t do it, the newly religious Cassiopeia and the crowd will.

Poseidon realizes that his plan with Hera’s Harpies didn’t work...perfectly. Damn, he’s still alive. Plus, the Harpies won’t get off of the island now, especially seeing that food seems to be magically appearing every night, due to Hestia’s gift. Maybe and island with magically appearing food beset by Harpies will, I dunno...come backcoughcogchJasoncoughcoughArgonautscoughcough. Nevertheless, Poseidon hatches another plan, a back-up plan to get revenge on Zeus and Perseus. He tells a nymph to “find him”. We’ll get to “him” later.

However, this is a problem for Perseus still, because he’s been thrown WAY off course from the island of Medusa. Even with the sandals, he’d be cutting it close to get back to Joppa with Medusa’s head. And that’s if he gets back with the head. Still a big if, that. In any case, he’s headed there to do what he must. He’s already faced the Greae and the Harpies, so, hey! Not too bad so far, right? Just Medusa next, and then a giant sea monster! Hahaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Well...whatever. For Andromeda, and for something else, he’s going to do it. Perseus looks at the sword, and wonders what’s up with the whole “Zeus is my dad” thing yet again, but shakes it off as he continues flying. Above him, an eagle flies. Said eagle is soon joined by an owl, and the two share a look as they follow Perseus. He’s close to the island, and Medusa’s island is prominent on the horizon, shrouded in a dark eerie fog.

Perseus lands on the island, after hovering above it for perhaps too long. This is, unsurprisingly, the same island from the beginning of the film, now in ruins. He gears up, and this includes the Helm of Darkness this time. He creeps into the temple, and is struck by surprise when he sees a Gorgon slithering next to him. OH SHIT

On first glimpse, the invisible Perseus notes that the creature is indeed monstrous, standing 6-feet tall, with snakes for her short hair and fang-like teeth protruding from her mouth. And while there are some details not actually in Greek mythology, I do like some details given in the films. Firstly, this Gorgon is armed not only with her looks and teeth, but bows and arrows, as seen as she takes an arrow, and coats in in poison dripping from her teeth.

Perseus realizes the danger that he’s in, but also doesn’t realize that this ISN’T Medusa. YUP. This is one of the Gorgons, but not Medusa. He approaches the creature, confident in his invisibility. However, he isn’t careful enough, and accidentally kicks a pebble. The Gorgon looks directly at him, into his EYES, and he’s paralyzed! But...he isn’t turned to stone, curiously. This is how he figures out that this isn’t Medusa, but simply another Gorgon. He also realizes how careless he’s being, and takes care to avert his eyes from the Gorgons and Medusa.

He gets over his paralysis eventually, then carefully makes his way to the main temple. On the way, he encounters another Gorgon, completing the trio of Gorgons present in mythology. He walks into the temple, and as he does, a door slams shut behind him. Now the Gorgons up until now have been monstrous and fairly tall women, with snakes for hair and hideous visages, but also with mostly humanoid bodies, with legs that they can walk upon. Medusa, though...Medusa’s different.

As the door closes, Perseus is clearly unnerved. The temple seems empty in front of him, but he also sees statues littered around it, clearly those of mortal men turned to stone by Medusa’s gaze. He walks carefully, and as he does, he hears a voice call out, asking who’s there. She can smell him, sense him, and he is not completely invisible to her. Perseus says nothing, as not to completely give away him position. But he is TERRIFIED, and the audience should be as well. Because we see glimpses of her throughout the temple. You ever see the new version of Disney’s The Jungle Book? Remember how they first showed Kaa?

In the same way, coils of a snake’s body are seen, slithering around Perseus, who’s looking for Medusa. All the while, a hissing voice speaks to him from the shadows. She recognizes that his patron is Athena, her former priestess. She explains her rage, both at Poseidon for what he did, and for Athena for abandoning her and condemning her to this terrible fate. She asks why he’s come, guessing that it’s to kill her. He confirms this, but upon hearing her story, expresses his doubts.

But Medusa...Medusa doesn’t really care. If this is a favored beneficiary of Athena, as she used to be, she wants him fucking DEAD. And she doesn’t care who he is, or what his mission is, or about his feelings. he’s going to turn him into stone, and display him in her collection, so that Athena can see something she loves turned into a monstrous form. And now, we see Medusa in full. And I gotta say, Harryhausen had it right. So did Warner Brothers in adapting it.

Half snake, half woman, with long, LONG snakes for hair, and a long snake body as well. She’s also surprisingly beautiful, as I actually do like the idea of keeping her beautiful, in a way to remind her of what she used to be. She’s armed not with a bow and arrow, but with a stone spear. And she’s BIG in form. Her head is still human-sized, but she was clearly a tall woman when she was human. She uses her body to rear up to terrifying heights, though, and Perseus can only see glimpses of her as she reveals herself.

She attacks him, and Perseus has to think fast. In the original myths, he gets her in his sleep. In the movies, it’s a combination of luck and mirrors. But here...here, it’s going to be different. See, we’re going with the old fallen pillar gag. Perseus enrages her, and tricks her into knocking over pillars of the temple that they’re in. She attacks with the spear, with statues thrown by her snake body, with her snake body, and also with an addition: spitting venom, like that of a spitting cobra.

But he manages to either dodge it, or block it with the corrosive proof cloak. All the while, he avoids her gaze, but his helmet is knocked off in the process. She can see him now, and that’s bad news. But only one more column needs to fall. Perseus tricks her into knocking the temple down around her, and she’s trapped in the rubble.

Perseus escapes, and the other Gorgons outside are knocked out by the debris. However, Medusa’s definitely not dead. He stumbles across her, under the rubble, and still enraged. She’s trapped now, though, and he can kill her easily. She actually asks him to, and he refuses at first. But Athene, in owl form, lands on a still standing pillar, in Medusa and Perseus’ eyeline. They see it, and they know that it’s a sign of what Perseus needs to do. Perseus closes his eyes. And he swings.

The blood washes over the sword, smoking. Now christened in an act of mercy and strength, the blue-silver turns to gold, and a name appears on the blade: Chrysaor (and yeah, I know Chrysaor was a dude, but I am TAKING CREATIVE LICENSE HERE). But Perseus is upset by this, feeling that he wasn’t a great hero at all. But Athena appears, and notes that mercy is also a quality of heroism. Something even the gods could learn (referring to herself, and her actions in reference to Medusa). He looks at her, unsure of what to think. 

Not that it matters, since he’ll never get back to Aethiopia in time to save Andromeda. And then...the rubble begins to shake. Perseus arms himself, and he points the sword at the rubble, expecting to fight a Gorgon. But instead, an unexpected creature springs up from the rubble: Pegasus.

YUP. I’M STILL DOING IT! I realize that Pegasus is NOT Perseus’ mount, but he is actually linked to the myth via Medusa. So, yeah, Pegasus is born of Medusa. Perseus looks at Athena, who notes that Pegasus looks swift, and seems to be a way back. Pegasus is also pretty grateful to Perseus, as he’s technically responsible for his freedom. So, yeah...he gets ONE ride.

Perseus puts the head of Medusa in the cloak of Dionysus, and gets on Pegasus. As Perseus takes off with Pegasus and Chrysaor, Athena looks at the body of Medusa. Zeus, as the eagle, looks on, and follows Perseus to Aethiopia. Athena stays behind, and then is joined by Hermes. He notes that he’s here for Medusa’s soul, as Hades has been waiting for her soul this whole time. There’s his ulterior motive. But Athena tells Hermes that she’ll be accompanying them. She will speak to Hades.

But enough of that, because Andromeda’s set to be sacrificed! The angry mob has hit a fever pitch, and it’s day before her birthday! Cassiopeia, now fully in the cult of Poseidon with the rest, brings her daughter to the rocks to be chained up. Cepheus tries to stop this, but the mob stops him instead, imprisoning him on the command of Cassiopeia. Andromeda is also taken captive, set to be sacrificed to Poseidon to gain his favor.

Perseus gets to Aethiopia, and lands near Joppa, the capital city. Pegasus takes off, bidding goodbye to Perseus, who thanks him. Pegasus has a date with a kid named Bellerophon. And Perseus is finally feeling confident. Although, he’s not entirely sure what he’ll do when he gets there. But he’s got the head, so what could go wro-BAM!!!

He’s blindsided, with a hit to the face by a rock! And here, we get a bit of an aside from the myth to add something. See, Perseus wakes up, as he’s been out for a WHILE. As he wakes up, he sees an old man, clearly bedraggled and haggard. The man notes that he’s awake after all, and Perseus notes that he has the sword and Medusa’s head in the cloak. This old man introduces himself as an old banished king. He explains that he is there to kill Perseus, on command from Poseidon. You see, he’s been given a chance at absolution, for offending him via inaction many years ago.

The two have a heart-to-heart of sorts, about the expectations of the gods, and Perseus asks why he hasn’t killed him. The king doesn’t reveal his full reasons, those being that Perseus is, of course, his grandson. But Perseus asks him to let him live, in order to save someone with the item in the bag. Curious, the old king looks in the bag...

Stone. And thus, Acrisus’ prophesied downfall is done. Shocked and saddened by this, Perseus nevertheless takes the head, his sword, and his sandals. and takes off to save Andromeda. More time’s been lost, and Andromeda’s lost her hope in Perseus, as has everybody else. By the time he gets there, Poseidon’s released Cetus, who can look however, but I will say I think the incarnation in the 2010 movie was pretty solid. Cetus heads off to kill Andromeda, under the watch of Cassiopeia and her cult of Poseidon.

But then, Perseus shows up to present the head, and sees Cetus having arrived to devour Andromeda. Instinctively, he presents the head to Cetus, and turns him into stone (because I think that’s a cool way for him to go). Andromeda is saved, but Poseidon is PISSED THAT HIS PLAIN FAILED. He rears up from the ocean, complete with earthquake tremors, ready to kill Perseus himself. BUT ZEUS IS FUCKING DONE WITH HIS BULLSHIT.

He steps in the way of Poseidon, and screams that there’s been enough damage done! At the first full appearance of Zeus, EVERYBODY in Aethiopia reacts. While everyone bows in reverence, Cassiopeia’s so freaked out that she runs away. She’ll be leaving the city altogether, and when she does, she’s watched over by a cuckoo (or a peacock). This is Hera, and as a god of women AND OF MOTHERS...she’s going to be punishing Cassiopeia for her deeds.

Zeus and Poseidon speak, and the two come to tentative peace. This is settled in the courts of Olympus, where everybody involved comes together to speak about this affair. They note that, despite Poseidon’s petty bullshit, something unique has happened. A mortal child of a god, spurned on by their actions, has managed to outsmart and defeat countless obstacles. And now, celebrated for saving Andromeda and the city of Joppa, Perseus is celebrated. Zeus predicts that he will be made king, with Andromeda as his queen. And this pleases Zeus greatly. Poseidon, still angry, is not convinced. But Zeus directs his attention away from Perseus’ celebration, and towards one of his children: Pegasus.

A new age is now dawning in the world of man, and in the world of gods. As Pegasus flies over the oceans, he flies over an island, as Zeus narrates on the nature of this new age of heroes. And as Pegasus lands, we see the city of Corinth in the distance. The narration concludes, as we are introduced to a young man, a prince named...Bellerophon.

Cut to black.

Well...almost. There’s a mid-credits scene, where a newly crowned Perseus goes back to his island with a fleet of ships to see his mother, and bring her to Aethiopia to live happily. And then, there’s an after-credits scene, with Athena. She’s looking at the mortal word, and looking forward to this age of heroes. She sees that some divine intervention may be needed in the land of Boeotia. She asks her attendant to fetch her shield. And Medusa, saved from the Underworld by a penitent Athena, brings her the shield, Gorgoneion, now adorned with the image of Medusa’s former self, as a reminder to Athena to be merciful. And off she goes, to help another burgeoning hero: Cadmus

AND SO THE AGE OF HEROES BEGINS

Alongside a theoretical franchise, of course.

If you read this nonsense, then...wow, why? But also, thank you! Mostly for putting up with my mad ravings. I’ll be putting the the straight-up review of this film later today, but...I really needed this off my chest. Any thoughts? Any ideas? Any criticisms? Any petty insults? I’ll take it, whatever it is! THanks again for putting up with this.

See you in the ACTUAL REVIEW!!!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

timeless - prelude

PAIRING: medieval!james “bucky” barnes x reader

WARNINGS: sexual content (18+)

A/N: hello! sorry for my inactivity later with tags and fanfics, i recently moved out of my home into a new one and it took quite a while to set everything up but finally everything is a bit calmer. i hope you enjoy this new work, i’m extremely proud of it xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Time. 

Time is an odd concept. The dictionary describes time as the indefinite continued progress of existence and events that occur in an apparently irreversible succession from the past, through the present, into the future. Yet, would it be fair to describe time in such technical words when the movement itself is so ... controversial. For some, time runs fast, like a drop falling from a leaf onto the river, its consequences reverberating in several rings. For others, the ticking of the clock seems like a painful reminder that every single second lasts forever. However, for some, time is just paused almost as if they’re living in their own life repetition and therefore time has lost all meaning and no definition would apply to it. Time after all is of the earth, it’s not a human concept, it’s not something humanity discovered and coined as their own as they would wish. It is merely a thing of innocence of the Earth seen in the blooming flowers and the falling leaves, the growing of flora and the birthing of fauna. Yet, for some time is seen on their faces, the wrinkles and lines that accentuate their skins, scars that never faded, ages rising and the loss of opportunities. For those, if it were possible to freeze time, to reverse it or extend it, they would do it in a blink of an eye and so is the pure innocence of longing defiled. 

Lady Y/N of Arendelle had no particular affinity towards time. In all honesty, she barely thought about it yet for some reason the forces of nature had bestowed, unbeknownst to her, with the particular gift of giving people time. Why had it been given to her out of all people was a mystery. She was an ordinary girl born in the last second of the last day of the year when the snow covered the ground white, mostly surrounded in mystery. While her mother, Lady Catherine Bouvaire was one who made her way into the most prestigious circles of society in Arendelle from peasant to the Queen’s lady in waiting, Lady Y/N seemed to be locked away from society in their little cottage. “The outside world is cruel, too cruel for someone like you” is what she would constantly say to Y/N. However, no matter how harshly you try to grip onto time it eventually caught up to her. As the Queen’s eldest daughter caught the attention of the future King of Genoa, quickly enough was this locked environment broken. The Queen of Arendelle believed her daughter should take someone trustworthy, someone to remind her of home and no better person fitted that description than the naively protected daughter of her lady in waiting.

Catherine had protested, arguing that her daughter was much to innocent to join the court of such a prolific kingdom. However, she was merely a lady and what the Queen wants goes. Nevertheless, Catherine would not let her precious daughter go, no, she needed more time and if that meant moving with her to another kingdom, then she would gladly do so. And so, Y/N was thrown inside a carriage with princess Odette which took both women away from what they had known for ages. 

They rode the road for a full month, enduring the harsh rains of mid September until, on a late afternoon, the carriage came to a halt in front of the place she would have to call home from now on. The castle grounds were protected by a great wall, tall enough you’d have to strain your eye muscles to find its end, tall enough to look like another prison to keep Y/N. Her mother, whose home arrangements were different to hers, had warned her to be careful with Genoa’s court, not to trust any of the men that paraded the parties. “They are never going to marry you, all they want is a break from their contracted marriages and would use her and leave” is what she said before being separated into a different carriage and Y/N believed her. She remembered the stories her mother had told her, women thrown into the street, into reckless lives and poverty. No, Y/N was there for Odette and no other motive. Yet, she couldn’t deny it was exciting to be somewhere else, to see other things and other people. 

The castle itself was old and small dust seemed to be falling from the walls, exposing the building’s foundation that used to look like a second world wonder, she thought. The windows, however, were crystal clear and glistening in the dark cloudy afternoon which was already setting on the opposite side of the building, casting a great shadow. 

Her shoes touched the perfectly cropped grass and she was ushered into the palace and straight into her living quarters. It was huge, bigger than her old home and while the outside of the palace looked rather somber, the inside was ostentatious, decorated in dark burgundies, whites and shades of gold enough to make anyone gasp at first sight. Y/N felt like she was dreaming wide awake as she explored every nook of her new bedroom, observing the art, the books and the instruments placed for her own enjoyment. 

She couldn’t help but throw herself into the comfortable bed, a small child like giggle escaping her rose painted lips. Yet, she had little to no time to enjoy her new bedroom as the Queen and King of Genoa wanted to welcome the Princess of Arendelle and her entourage with a banquet and Y/N couldn’t be any more excited. With a white ivory dress loosely falling from her shoulders, she joined her princess who was looking at the wall as if it held away the biggest monsters ever created.

     - You’ll be fine. - Y/N spoke out, placing a hand on top of her shoulder. - Prince William absolutely loves you, you have nothing to worry about. 

    - It’s not Prince William, it’s his parents. 

     - I’ve heard they’re fair rulers. 

     - Yes but we come from a small kingdom what if they decide it’s an alliance they don’t want? - Y/N merely gave her a soft smile, almost like a promise that she would be fine. The big white and gold engraved doors were opened to a crowd of a thousand faces all in awe of the beautiful foreign princess. Y/N, on the other hand, was in awe of the sheer beauty and light of the room. It was so much different from the walls of the little cottage her mother kept her in, it was light, breezy, bashed in oranges and yellows coming from the flickering flames of various white candles held by the chandeliers and walls. It was almost like a scene straight out a painting and suddenly the crowd of a thousand faces seemed to melt as she was on cloud 9. The scents were of wild fruits and sweetness which possibly came from the beautifully decorated decadent desserts standing on the long table.

She was much too distracted with the sheer delicateness of the world outside her cottage walls to even notice she had been sat quite far from the only person she knew. Instead, she was sat by some of the other court ladies, her dress majorly overshadowed by the precious stones sewn onto the silks and velvet of the Queen’s ladies. Nevertheless, she found something else to be fascinated by, that being the golden cutlery meticulously placed by the sides of the porcelain engraved plates. In that moment, despite her mind telling her it would be bad to be glad about it, she felt like being away from her mother was a blessing. 

This dazed dream was broken as she felt a gaze burn on her figure, almost as if she was being watched. Gently and slowly, she raised her eyes from the plate, the atmosphere of the dinner being of joy and hope for the new soon to be rulers too lost for someone to notice her, at least she thought so but was wrong as standing a bit left from her front was a very well dressed man, in shades of burgundy and black with a gold heavy medal weighting from his breast pocket looking at her. He looked almost curious, lines creasing on his forehead as his ocean eyes were glued that left her feeling almost naked to his sight. 

    - Are you alright? - one of the ladies sat next to her, the one in a ruffled lavender dress asked, noticing how quickly Y/N had resorted to looking back to her food, barely touched. 

    - Who’s that man? - she slightly moved her head in his direction.

    - That’s Grand Duke Barnes of Addia. He’s one of the King’s advisors, people say he killed his wife.

    - Not too loud, Eliza. - another lady dressed in baby pink scolded.

    - That’s surely just gossip. - Y/N commented. 

    - Gossip or not, everyone in Addia could hear screaming during the Great Fire. Yet again, royals can get away with anything and everything. 

Y/N nodded, looking back to her plate but not before looking up to the grand Duke one last time. It wasn’t exactly shocking news to her what men of court could do. Her mother had told her they were either adulterers, power hungry or untrustworthy men, however, she thought there would be some sort of justice. The dinner continued to go smoothly with Odette spending more and more time sharing romantic looks with her husband to be. Soon enough, she was on the dance floor with him, laughing and telling each other sweet nothings that made anyone and everyone watching smile.

Y/N wasn’t immune to that smile either, standing a bit further removed from the dance floor with her hands on top of her dress fabric. The sweet lullabies played by the orchestra had her head moving slowly from side to side until an overflow of the scent of freshly picked roses made itself quite pronounceable. She looked around looking from here the scent could be coming from as all the flowers scattered around the room were that of Genoa’s flag, lilies. No roses.

     - How come you’re not dancing, milady?

     - Oh, I’m not one for dan ... - she stopped mid sentence as she rustled through the fabric of her dress to notice who was speaking to her. There he was again, making her take a step back out of fright of what she had heard from Eliza at the dinning table. 

He looked somewhat surrounded in an air of mysteriousness costumed by the formal clothing such as his perfectly tailored burgundy jacket whose colour matching the ribbon keeping his long hair away from his face in a low ponytail. There was no denying he was a handsome man but Y/N couldn’t help but keep her guard up. There was always some underlying truth to rumours. 

     - I’m afraid I’ve never learned how to dance, Grand Duke. 

     - Please do join me in the floors, milady. 

     - No, my lord you really don’t understand, I can’t dance ... at all. I would embarrass my princess. 

    - I’m a good lead. - he extended his gloved hand towards her. She guessed he couldn’t harm her while surrounded by several people including guards. - Please, milady, do me the honour of accompanying me. 

She looked at his black matte glove covered his hand which was extended towards her chest and then back to his face and the guards stood in front of every single exit. “You’ll be fine” a voice said inside of her and shakingly she placed her delicate and polished hand on top of the leather, shivering once she felt its texture. Before Y/N could change her mind, he had already led her slightly off centre in the dance grounds, a free hand gently setting itself on her waist. 

The young girl could feel her heart beat against her thoracic cage as the violins and flutes led the dance along with him. It was an odd feeling, it felt peaceful and yet she was rather scared to dance with the man rumoured to have murdered his wife. The Grand Duke seemed to notice her unwillingness as the lines of his forehead and eyes creased even more and his grip on her softened. 

   - You shouldn’t believe in everything you hear. - he whispered against her ear, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. Her eyes gazed his, lips slightly parted as she wondered if he had heard Eliza back at the dinner table, something she would’ve questioned him about had it not been for the ceasing music. As the music came to an end, he took a step back, bowing to her before disappearing between the crowds leaving her in the middle of the dance floor as another song begun. 

   - There you are. - a familiar voice broke through her haze of confusion. - I think we should retire for tonight. What do you think?

  - I think it’s a great idea.

In all honesty, Y/N was glad Odette wanted to retire from the ball and return to her chambers but it wasn’t without peaking curiosity that she left the room, eyes lingering on the crowds looking yet failing to find the Grand Duke. The orange and yellow lights dimmed as the doors were closed behind the two women and with a sigh, she followed Odette to her chambers, starting the routine taught to her back in Arendelle to get the princess ready for bed. Once she was settled in her silk bedding, Y/N left the room to reach hers, a small golden candelabra held by her hands as she made her way through the halls. 

The walls are hollow inside and it is as if they are whispering at her when the wind howls inside them and the rain hits the foot long glass windows, the image strengthened by the portraits of the several monarchs of Genoa. She climbed the staircase slowly, each step creaking at the slighest weight her feet put on the old wood and then creaking some more when the weight on it is loosened and disappear. Slowly but surely, with her heart beating like a drum, the lady in waiting reached the top of the stairs. Suddenly, her heart beat seemed to intensify its beating in her ears for no reason and, once she held her dainty fingers against them, they are hot to the touch and the saying of the Arendelle people echoed like a curse in her brain: “If your ears are red and warm, it means someone must be talking about you”. She shuddered at the thought, specially considering she stood alone atop the stairs.

Once she was back inside the safety of her chambers, she closed the door behind her and enter the soft cold and unknown bed quickly, throwing her clothes to the side, stretching her legs under the covers and pulling the white sheets up to her chest. Her eyes flutter slowly, staring up at the ceiling and the small chandelier hanging from it and, suddenly, she drifts off to sleep lulled by the falling rain: she felt airy, as if her limbs are being held up in the air and she fluttered her eyes open to the dream land that awaited her.

And at the end of the bed is the Grand Duke. He is naked and he crawls to the bed, hands slowly sliding down her sides as he towers over her and, she too, is naked. She sweated and stared at the man’s face and at the medallion hanging from his neck that rocks back and forth as he moves closer and pulls her knees up and apart.

He’s hard and slick with cum already and she’s not entirely not sure what took over her good morality, but she pulled her legs apart willingly and let him move closer and closer to her and her aching heat.

tag list: @lookiamtrying @kmuir1 @anxiousdreamersworld @tinymalscoffee​

[talesofsonicasura]

Fallen Royalty

*warning: contains vivid curses and slight gore*

Trust is a very fragile thing. It can easily be shattered by misdirection, lies but the most devastating were secrets. And something very important is kept from someone by those they consider family, it can make a soul fall unto a very different path.

The Snatcher, a legendary and powerful spirit who ruled the Fallen Kingdom known as Subcon. He used to be a human prince married to a princess of a different kingdom named Vanessa. Before the prince and Vanessa lived happily ruling their kingdom but this wasn't a happy story. A misunderstanding had brought out a dark side within the princess. Her love unknown to the prince was actually toxic.

Anything that stood in her way of the prince had met brutal ends. Not even the young man himself wasn't safe. He purchased flowers for his sweetheart only to be accused of cheating by the insane princess now Queen. She locked the prince in the dungeon and unleashed dark magic all over Subcon freezing the land solid. The residents were cursed to live as spirits and the dark magic gave birth to the Snatcher from what was left of Subcon's prince.

Snatcher reigned over his fallen domain that became consumed by the forest around it. His magic kept Vanessa's frost contained in her castle and locked the witch away. Through his magic, the cursed citizens were given new bodies in the form of wooden puppets Snatcher crafted. Subcon Forest was created and its denizens lived in peaceful solitude. Then came the Demon King Satan.

Subcon brewed with so much magic that powerful demons sought it out. Demons dwelled in Gehenna and could only reach Assiah, the realm of man, through possessing an item there. However Subcon Forest's powerful magic could grant demons easy access to Assiah by harvesting its mystical energy. Something Satan wanted and wished to discuss with Snatcher himself. The discussion didn't turn out good for Satan.

The powerful specter had immediately been ready to refuse the Demon King access to Subcon's magic. Even though Snatcher hated outsiders, he understood the balance between their worlds and saw Satan as a threat! Being devious, Snatcher had the Demon King signed a contract. Before realizing what it read, Satan had already signed the paper. The demon began screaming in pain unaware of his own folly.

Snatcher could create powerful magical contracts that become true once signed. He had tricked Satan into hurting himself and his schemes greatly. The first was Satan could never possess any nonhuman for his power will burn it to ashes and humans will die from his possession. Second was the Demon Lord couldn't touch or set foot in Subcon for eternity and neither could his servants. And finally, a chunk of Satan's power became Snatcher's own along with a particular possession the Demon King would acquire in the future.

Satan cursed Snatcher before being banished back to Gehenna while the King of Subcon laughed. Though the spirit knew it wouldn't be the last time he'll see the demon or his schemes. The ghost didn't know what this key possession the Demon King would seek but he had enough time to prepare so he could eliminate it. However, he didn't suspect this.

A small boy ran through the busy crowd of Kyoto, Japan. He had dark blue hair and the brightest blue eyes leaking tears down his cheeks staining his white shirt and black shorts. His name was Rin Okumura and today wasn't a good day. The boy knew he was always different from everyone else. He was much stronger than what a 7 year old should be also he was more aggressive and easy to lash out at those who anger him.

People from kids to adults would look at him like a monster and call him a demon. He thought he could trust his foster father Shiro Fujimoto and his twin brother Yukio but clearly it was a lie. Rin had come back home a bit earlier than he usually did to see his Father and brother talking. What he heard broke his heart. Demons were real, Fujimoto and Yukio were exorcists that killed demons and Rin…was the bastard son of the Demon King Satan.

Rin had Satan's flames and they were sealed in a sword along with half of his soul, his demon half. Yukio being trained to kill demons by Shiro himself. His mother killed by exorcists the day they were born. A whole basket of lies and secrets hidden under his nose. It didn't take long for Rin to slip out of the monastery that served as home his whole life and run away. The boy didn't care where he was going but he had to get away.

Tears blinded his sight and sorrow messing with his rationality, Rin ran into the woods specifically a section banned from the public. A part of the forest where people disappeared and never came back, the Snatching Woods. After a few minutes of nonstop running, Rin sat on the ground and cried. He didn't notice how the forest around him had transformed into something otherworldly.

Glowing mushrooms of yellow, pink and red shining in a garden around him, a large picket fence with spikes lit in flame, a large marsh like pool surrounded by pumpkins, wisps of blue, green and orange floated about and finally the large tower shaped mushroom house that the boy currently sat on the front doorstep. Something large and dark purple began to slither through the home, no doubt searching for the crying source.

The dark purple thing was a large ghost. He had a noodle like body with thin arms each carrying two large claws, a mane of fluffy fur around his head, bright yellow childish looking eyes and a jack o' lantern smile with two small fangs. The towering ghost looked at the small crying child in utter confusion. "Hey kiddo? How the peck did you get all the way here?" The ghost questioned with his raspy and light static echoing voice.

Rin looked up from crying to see the ghost hovering above his head. "I don't know and I don't care! Rather die lost in a forest than live a lie." Rin cried. That clearly got the ghost's unwanted attention. "Why the peck do you want to die because of a lie? What kind of lie would get a kid this depressed?" The ghost asked as Rin looked back at the spirit. He definitely had to know the kid's story.

"I lived in a monastery with my twin brother since I could remember. I never knew that Father Fujimoto and my brother were keeping secrets from me. I walked in to hear their conversation about me. Demons are real and evil. Father Fujimoto teaching my brother to be an exorcist and...I'm the bastard son of Satan! My mother was killed because of it and I learned half of my soul was stripped out then sealed away." Silence carried through the woods once Rin spoke that last sentence.

The ghost figured Satan would find a new way into Assiah but...this was going too far even for him. And he was Snatcher, a spirit that ate unlucky souls and toss their husks away like a banana peel! However, he would never use his own child, even though he didn't have one, for a sick game like this. A particular girl and a purple hat flashed through his mind. He was going to regret this but he didn't care. No way in hell was this kid going to suffer from his bastard old man.

"Then to hell with them!" Snatcher exclaimed grabbing the boy's attention. "Kid, I ain't a good person but even I know common sense. Just because you are the son of an idiotic peckneck demon doesn't make you him! The fact that your own foster father not only kept important information like this from you but now your brother is wrapped around his finger. Not all demons are evil. Some of us are mischievous or just want to be left alone." The ghost began.

"You have the right to know your origin and your own mother. Plus, that peckneck doesn't know the damage he has done sealing half your soul away! Your power even though suppressed is unstable without your demon half. It messes with your mind making you aggressive as it fights to the surface. You are a walking infernal bomb capable of wiping out half the continent and yourself by reaching a major mental meltdown! You are a person, a child for pecking sake! YOU ARE NOT SATAN!!!" Snatcher exclaimed voice roaring with irritation at the cause of the boy's misery.

Rin stood shellshocked at what he witnessed. Other than Father Fujimoto and his brother, no one ever helped or cared about him. To see a ghost he just met get so angry at his mistreatment made the pain in his heart fade. "Thank you." Rin said as Snatcher looked at the boy. "Boy, what's your name?" Snatcher asked as Rin wiped his tears. "Rin Okumura." The boy replied. "Rin Okumura? You can call me Snatcher, boy. How would you like to stay with me in Subcon Forest?" Snatcher asked as Rin had a look of surprise.

"You aren't safe staying with an exorcist who sees you only as the Son of Satan and potential threat but also filling your brother's head with half baked truths. That kind of person can turn your own sibling into your potential murderer even as an unwanted consequence. I can teach you how to forge your own path and control the power within you. You see, I met your blood father and suckered him into giving up part of his power and any potential of escaping Gehenna." Snatcher explained conjuring a ball of blue flame in his hand.

"Pretty." Rin said looking at the glowing blue flame. "This pretty flame can also be used to craft some powerful spells as well. Along with fixing your unstable power, I'll be teaching you magic and the ways of Subcon. This place will be your safe haven and no secrets will be kept from you here. A clone crafted from my magic will take your place so no one will suspect a thing. What do you say kiddo? Want to live with me in Subcon Forest?" Snatcher asked offering the boy his hand.

Rin looked at the hand and remembered all the years living with Father Fujimoto and his twin brother. What glittered gold slowly rotted away to faded gold paint old wood. The boy reached his hand towards Snatcher's and took it. The deal was struck as blue light surged throughout Subcon forest. Many unaware of the single act that sent ripples throughout the world and it's future. 9 years later…

A 16 year old Rin Okumura was being attacked in the home of True Cross Monastery. A powerful demon hunting him had attacked the boy out in public forcing to realize he wasn't normal or human. Father Fujimoto had taken him back to the momastery fending off hordes of undead demons coming after them. However, one demon possessing a teenager had crashed a truck into the monastery giving it and other demons easy access to the sanctuary.

Rotten dogs, growing demonic fungi and any other unholy creature bridled with maggots, rot and decayed flesh were creeping towards the young man, head priest and his follow exorcists. Father Fujimoto faced Rin who wielded a blue scabbard sword in hand. Running a hand through his short gray hair and dark eyes was prepared to shove Rin into the hidden basement for safety only for the boy to push him down.

"Rin! What's the meaning of this?! You have to run!" The man shouted only to be confused when the boy began chuckling. "Why should I listen to the words of a liar? I'll handle these pecknecks myself." Rin spoke earning confusion from Fujimoto and the monastery men. "Pecknecks? What kind of insult is that?!" The possessed boy laughed only to jump back as a burst of blue flames erupted from under him.

"If I knew you guys were going to attack me earlier than I would have put on my best clothes already! Oh well! A quick costume change won't hurt. Ain Soph Aur!" Rin said before snapping his fingers. He ignited into blue flames to the group's horror and absolute confusion before it died down. The young man was completely changed from head to toe. His suit was replaced with a dark violet long coat with azure flame, a dark blue tunic bearing a peculiar symbol that looked like a spirit surrounding a burning tree, black tights often seem worn by royalty, fancy black Italian shoes, white gloves and a violet top hat with a yellow ribbon.

His ears were pointed as he had small vampirish like fangs and hints of yellow in his blue eyes. He was also much taller having 5 inches more than Fujimoto's 6'5 height. In his hand was a long dark blue umbrella with dark violet flame like flares on the fabric and a yellow handle. The air Rin now carried was of royal but very ominous and eerie compared to his cheerful street punk one. "Rin?" Fujimoto questioned.

He was caught off guard by Rin's sudden change but the boy merely ignored. "I'm giving you demons a chance to leave with your souls intact. I can't guarantee you'll even survive the trip to Gehenna if I slay you instead of the exorcists." Rin said with a wicked glint in his eyes despite his jovial smile. "You think we are afraid of your clothes change and a dumb umbrella? Sorry brat but you're going back to Gehenna to your father Satan!" The possessed boy laughed only to suddenly flinch.

The air was flooding with instant killing intent that leaked from Rin as he looked at the demons with a disturbing malice filled smile. "I gave you a chance but you spat on it. Prepare to die because your contract has just expired!" The young man laughed as his voice sounded distorted saying the last few words. Rin suddenly vanished from sight only for a group of demonic fungus to explode in blue flames!

Rin burst out from the burning blue mass almost as if he teleported from underneath them. He faced his umbrella at the demons he hovered above as blue flame spheres manifested at the tip before firing them like a gun. Multiple ghoulish corpses and vile living fungus ignited which crashing sphere burning in pure anguish. The horrifying part to the child possessing demon was the flames were actually destroying the demons instead of sending them back to Gehenna!

Demons possessing objects or people couldn't die in Assiah since their real bodies existed in Gehenna but Rin's fire was burning both through their souls! The chilling part was Rin was singing with the carnage. "Run along this forest trail. Now you'll find you'll failed. Never gonna reach that goal, now give me your soul! Some advice, don't think twice! Should have known I wasn't nice! Off with your head! Tata, your dead!" The boy sang as he continued his carnage. However the next few lines was when the demon truly realized that initiated a fight with someone that Satan himself couldn't win against.

"Got no more use for you! When you sign that dotted line you should've thought it through! Your subconscious holding on clinging to your fear. Every haunt just moved along but now the SNATCHER'S HERE!!!" The demon's face along with Fujimoto's grew dramatically pale. "You?!! You know the Snatcher?!" The demon questioned shivering in terror within his host's body. Rin merely laughed at the demon's frightened words.

"Know him? More than just that little peckneck! He's my true father! Not your dumbass king or this lying priest bastard that kept so many secrets from me! He treated me like his own son and taught me all I know. He was honest with me and actually gave a crap about me for being myself, Rin Okumura, not Satan's bastard son!" Rin roared as Fujimoto looked a bit hurt. "And don't think Satan will pop up here either. My father's magic will immediately expel him upon possession. It was listed in the contract the Demon King was tricked into signing." That had gotten the demon to literally piss itself in its host body.

"Enough talk! Time for the finish!" The young man shouted as he began waving his umbrella and danced as if he was on Broadway. "And the weird and the wild should have left you all beguiled. That is that, you little bastard child. Rid my jobs that took time and bask! Now it's time to take you to task!" A ring of blue flames surrounded the remaining demons preventing any chance of escape.

"As the ink is slowly drying, it's time you get dying! Your contract has expired, sleep now in the fire! You gonna meet your match! Your soul belongs to Snatcher! Now let's sing higher!" The flaming ring grew smaller as the flames burned brighter and more intense. It was so bright that Rin's face was shadowed revealing a terrifying jack o' lantern eyes and mouth smiling at the torture.

"AND THE WEIRD AND THE WILD SHOULD'VE LEFT YOU ALL BEGUILED. THAT IS THAT, YOU LITTLE BASTARD CHILD. RIP MY JOBS THAT TOOK TIME AND BASK! NOW IT'S TIME TO TAKE YOU TO TASK. THE INK IS SLOWLY DRYING AND IT'S TIME THAT YOU GET DYING! YOUR CONTRACT HAS EXPIRED! SLEEP NOW IN THE FIRE! YOU HAVE MET YOUR MATCH! FOR YOUR SOUL BELONGS TO SNATCHER! BURN TO ASH IN MY MELODIC BONFIRE!!" With those last lines, the ring of fire exploded into a large burning blaze.

Every demon and their host burned away until their screams became silent and bodies turn to ash. The young man snapped his fingers as the blazing blue flames extinguish themselves before Rin glared down at Father Fujimoto. "Rin…" Fujimoto spoke only for Rin to interrupt him. "Don't say a word. I learned about the truth coming home 9 years ago. I watched you through a clone crafted by my father's magic and gave you multiple chances to tell the truth." The boy started.

"Did you know that sealing my soul's demon half made my power so unstable that I was a walking timebomb? Not only did you kept secrets and lie to me but you put everyone in danger. You didn't see as a child or son but a potential threat because of my damned sperm donor. If you did, you would have told me and trained me to be an exorcist than just Yukio. I wanted to die that day but Snatcher saved me from potentially killing myself." Fujimoto flinched and looked truly hurt once realizing what he had done.

"I won't kill you or get revenge for keeping secrets because you spared my life instead of killing me or my brother on the spot when we were babies. However, you, Yukio and everyone in this room are no longer my family. A true family would see me for me, not some bastard son of Satan or a potential threat. And if you go after me, I won't protect you from the full might of the Subcon Kingdom! You have been warned." Rin explained as he took the sword that contained his power before stuffing it in his hat like a magician.

"Rin! Please don't go! I'm sorry! It was for your own good!" Fujimoto cried out but Rin merely ignored him. "Goodbye Shiro Fujimoto." And with those last words, Rin Okumura disappeared in a flash of blue fire. Shiro Fujimoto fell to the floor and weeped. Secrets were a dangerous thing and he didn't listen to his friend's warning. The price he paid was his own son's trust now in the hands of the infamous Snatcher. Yukio came home to his weeping father and the approaching pike of mistrust that crucified his father's heart. It wasn't anyone's day at the True Cross Monastery.

And that's it! This was written last year so if the writing style looks different then that's why. Blue Exorcist was one of the first Mature mangas I ever bought, I got Volumes One to Three.

And honestly, I feel really bad for Rin. His brother tried to kill him, his foster father kept TONS of secrets, his friends immediately turned on him for his heritage despite him saving their asses and trying to regain their trust, or just being marked as a target for existing. I mean WTF?!

Poor boy needs better friends and a hug because I don't think Kuro or Ukobach(from the anime) could help for so long. This was also one of my early attempts into writing Snatcher before I got the game myself.

I did watch someone play it quite a few times but limited my experiences to the first three end chapter bosses and Snatcher's area being Subcon Forest. This was something I usually do before deciding to buy a game.

Snatcher honestly felt perfect for this especially taking the dad role. When you take his experiences in the ghost's past life to now, betrayal and mistrust are two big factors.

Even if Snatcher is an antagonist character, he does have some morals and personality than just the common soul eating specter with a grudge. This also takes place after the events in a Hat In Time.

And yes. Rin was singing 'Your Contract Has Expired' cover by Man On The Internet although the last bit was abridged on purpose. If this Rin had a theme, it would be the Phase Two Version theme of Your Contract Has Expired.

Anyways, until next time folks! Smell ya later.

This is an Phase Two Version of Man on the Internet's Your Contract Has Expired, done by Ben Newsome. Please read the description because they cited this song belongs to their original owner and not stole it. Poor guy doesn't need anymore accusations involving copyright.