#and that his own mother raised his father an island as a courting gift

[saskiasassenach]

Tekoha was far too well-raised a boy to take offense when the other students referred to him as "the guy from the islands". His mother had taught him very early that to strike at another for speaking the truth was an evil onto itself. At his core, he was, after all, a guy from the islands. The fact that everyone failed to question what kind of guy he was, or even if "guy" was, by definition, an exclusively human term - well, that was just a coincidence that happened to make his life easier.

Staff and poses by the life-saving @natalia-auditore!

[aadmelioraa]

Pharazôn chooses a large black pearl and has it set in a band of gold. The metal curves like a clever smile to accentuate the size of the glistening gem, forming a claw-like shape as it holds the pearl in place. He prizes this ring most of any jewels he owns, for he had harvested this pearl himself.

Pearls, so it was said, are a gift of the Valar by way of the sea, much like their island itself. But Pharazôn in his youth had dived beneath the waves and hauled his share of glistening shells to the shore. Surrounded by other divers, swapping stories and sharing songs, he’d basked in the sun, salt drying in his jet-black hair as he applied himself with vigor to the work. 

He swells with pride each time he surveys an array of pearls in every color, each different from the last, all harvested by men who understand what a noble thing it is to steward every part of their great island.

The ring is a gift from Míriel’s mother, the last thing she gives her daughter apart from advice on how to manage the egos of men who swan about her in the king’s court. The pearl dates back to the time of Erendis, though that queen herself had never worn it. Míriel wears the ring when she’s a girl, proud of her father and her place in his household, proud of her faith. The silver flower in which the glowing pearl rests is an homage to the blossoms of the fair white tree which grows in the palace courtyard, its scent drifting to her window on the summer breeze.

When it is clear the political tides have turned, Míriel stops wearing that particular ring. Instead she takes to wearing brilliant gold set with the brightest jewels. But when the leaves of Nimloth fall on that fateful day, Míriel knows that the tempest which has been gathering will not be quelled. With trembling fingers she retrieves the ring and faces her fate clear-eyed. She bears it upon her finger through every trial after, refusing to be parted from it even in her darkest hour. She will not abandon her faith again, even if the cost is her life.

A band of silver, humble on the whole, with a simple pattern etched onto the surface and a prayer etched within, the sacred words resting against his skin. Throughout his life many legendary heirlooms will be charged to Elendil’s hands for safekeeping, but this ring remains his most cherished possession. 

Safe Return the inscription reads. He sometimes imagines he can still feel the warmth of the one who’d commissioned it. It had been a gift, a precious thing entrusted to him, like her love, like their children. He will wear it until his dying day, even in his darkest hour striving to be the man that she believed him to be. 

Valandil thinks briefly to be a smith, and spends summer evenings in the forge near their home, returning to the room he shares with Isildur after dark, his face streaked with soot and his limbs heavy. When Elendil encourages him to raise his sights, telling him the Sea Guard will welcome such a hard worker, Valandil relinquishes his tools. On his last night at the forge he hammers a small strip of iron, the only bit remaining from a set of horseshoes, into a ring. The metal forms a crescent moon shape where the band closes in on itself. He gives it to Isildur in jest, for his namesake. They later laugh at this evidence of the only thing Valandil has ever done by half. 

Isildur wears the ring upon his forefinger when they are young, and eventually moves it to his smallest finger as he grows. There it remains through countless disasters, near drownings, trials by fire, and abandonments. Isildur never forgets the one who gave it to him, and it serves as a tie to the land he’d grown up in, a place for which he never expected to feel such bitter longing. 

It later serves as a gift for Estrid when, no longer boy but man, Isildur pledges himself to her. She wears it on a chain around her neck, as close to her heart as Isildur is. When she and Valandil meet, he recognizes its meaning before any words are exchanged. A crude piece compared to the other jewels she wears once she becomes Queen of Gondor, but not a ring with which she would ever willingly part. 

[starogeorgina]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

Warning: Swearing

Pairing: Helena Targaryen × OC

1.04

To celebrate the betrothal between yourself and Cregan Stark, your older cousin Gerold Royce threw one of the finest feats Runestone had seen in years. The halls were vibrating with an electrical charge while fine wine and various delicious-smelling foods were brought out, but your favorite part of the night was reuniting with your former lady in waiting, who was due to give birth within the next moon. As she tells you about her experiences of pregnancy, your mind continues to go back to Helaena, and you wonder if she has anyone to share these moments with within the Red Keep.

As the hours turn late, most of the lords and ladies retreat for the night. You are sitting with a handful of knights who are off for the night when you notice the perplexed look on Jacaerys face while he speaks with Lady Waynwood, an older lady of the court who was known for her sharp words. Concerned, you excuse yourself and go over to him. Linking your arm with his, you ask, “Can you walk me back to my chambers? It’s getting late, and we need to get up early tomorrow.”

Jace raises his brow, surprised but nodding. You say goodnight to the few drunken fools that remain in the hall before you begin to walk back. One of your protectors lingers far enough back so he’s not intrusive in your conversation.

“Did Lady Waynwood say something ill-mannered?”

“No, uh, she says she knew Queen Aemma well. Lady Wayneood said I remind her of my grandmother, that I have a similar softness to what she did.”

“Princess Daella and Queen Aemma are remembered fondly in the Vale, and I’ve heard many times how both mother and daughter were extremely kindhearted. I vaguely recall my own grandmother saying how all the ladies at court would dote on the then princess Aemma; everyone loved her,” you say, offering him a sympathetic smile. You wondered how many times in Jacaerys life he’s been told he looks like someone from his Targayren bloodline. “After Queen Aemma gave birth to Princess Rhaenyra, everyone in the Vale gathered for one of the largest feats that has ever taken place in Runestone, before many of the lords and ladies traveled to King's Landing to join in on the formal celebrations.”

“That I could imagine,” he says. “Although I’m surprised to hear you say it so casually.”

“How so?”

“You don’t like my mother.”

Hearing those words come from Jace’s mouth makes your stomach drop. “That’s not true... I just dislike being around anyone who loves my father so much.”

You value your friendship with Jacaerys far too much to risk losing it by telling him the real reasons you couldn’t take Rhaenyra. It was no secret in the Vale that your father would go to King's Landing to give gifts to the realm's delight and would read her poetry, and they would sneak off during the hour of the owl to brothels together, all while your mother was still alive. Your father would laugh and call her a bronze bitch and say fucking sheep would be a better option than her. They had no respect for anyone in house Royce, but you would never tell Jace that.

—

Before you even step foot on the sandy beaches of Dragonstone, you feel immediately homesick, as a sense of regret lingers inside you. In Runestone, you had friends; you had kin from your mother's side who adored you. You were respected and made to feel wanted and loved. And yet, you found yourself back on the island, trying to fill the void of emptiness of not having a parent. Despite all the horrid rumors of your father cheating on your mother, you still wanted him to care for you.

Jacaerys notices your mood dropping and slows his pace, so he’s walking beside you as you make your way along the beach to meet the knights who are waiting to escort you back into the castle walls.

“They adore you, you know?” Jace says. “You’ve never mentioned how they call you the dragon of the Vale before... I wonder if the Starks will call you the dragon of the north once you’re married.”

Forcing a smile, you nod, “Perhaps they will... When I’m married to Lord Stark, can you watch over Runestone for me? I don’t want to leave my people defenseless, as nothing keeps those who would cause them harm at bay quite like a dragon.”

Jace links his arm with yours, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. “You maintain that you care about nothing, but I see right through it. And I know you care about your family on Dragonstone, even if you don’t like us much.”

“Whatever you say, my prince.”

—

As Jacaerys fills his mother in on his experience in Runestone and how highly the people spoke of the late Queen Aemma, you notice Lucerys eyes keep flickering between the plate of food in front of him and yourself.

Eventually, in a quiet voice, Lucerys asks. “What’s it like to ride a wild dragon?”

“Very painful since he’s not saddled,” you say jokingly, but feel bad when Luke looks disappointed by your answer. The younger boy usually seems scared of you, so it was something that he made the effort to speak with you first. “The only dragon I've only ever ridden on is the cannibal, so I don’t know any different.”

“Lies.”

Hearing your father’s voice, you roll your eyes and pretend you didn’t hear him. “I don’t really remember a time when I wasn’t bonded with my dragon; I first saw him when he flew to Runestone to feed on sheep.”

Luke’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Weren’t you terrified?”

“Not that I can remember,” you smile, remembering the memory fondly. “My cousin Gerold's lady wife had joined him on a hunting party, so I could go as well. I was being taught how to shoot an arrow when the cannibal swooped down and began picking sheep from a nearby farm with his claws and tossing them into the air to burn.”

“I took you flying on Caraxes when you were a baby, just as I did Baela and Rhaena,” your father scoffs.

“How touching.” Since this was the first time he had mentioned that he took you flying on his own dragon, you doubted it ever happened.

You try to continue telling Luke how you claimed your dragon, but your father cuts in again, “Rhea put a stop to it.”

“Don’t mention my mother!”

“I think it’s time for everyone to retreat for the evening,” Rhaenyra says sternly. Even she seems surprised by your father's urge to provoke you.

Luke holds his hand out for Joffrey to take, “Come on, Joffrey. Time for bed.”

You smile sadly at the young boys; a perfectly fine evening and meal were ruined. When you stand to leave, Rhaenyra stands up as well; she twists the ring on her finger. “Vissera, I’m going to have dresses fitted tomorrow; maybe you’d like to join me. We can sample different fabrics for your engagement and wedding dresses.”

The princess's offer was a kind one, but a knot twists in your stomach, and you're not sure why. Perhaps it was because you felt disingenuous about befriending her. “Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you for the offer.”

—

“I’ve never seen you in a dress before. I bet you’ll look beautiful,” Helaena muses, then abruptly sits up right. “Not that you don’t usually.”

A small smile pulls on your lips. “Thank you, princess.”

Comfortable moments of silence pass with nothing but the sounds of dragons squealing in the distance and the sound of waves crashing nearby as you and Helaena embrace each other in the small cave, sitting in front of a small fire.

Helaena’s lips meet the side of your neck before she lets out a soft sigh, “The sun is starting to rise. I’ll need to return soon to wake my children and then join my mother in breaking fast.”

“Is the queen excited to have another grandchild?” You ask, using Alicent’s official title so as not to offend Helaena.

“She’s happy I’m performing my duty and giving Aegon another heir.” She stares into the flames of the now-dead fire for a few moments before speaking again. “I hope it’s another boy, so that I don’t need to lay with him again for some time.”

Not knowing what to say, you kiss your silver-haired princess on the forehead. It was easy for you to forget how much Helaena has been through by being pressured into having a baby so young because she hardly ever speaks about how much it affects her. Your heart bleeds for her. Helaena was far too kind and innocent; you’d do anything to take her pain away.

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Tuesday, February 20, 2024

february 20_february 7

VENERABLE LUKE OF Mt STEIRION, MONK (953)

(Also known as Luke from Hellas or Luke the Younger)

Saint Luke of Hellas was a native of the Greek village of Kastorion. The son of poor farmers, the saint from childhood had toiled much, working in the fields and shepherding the sheep. He was very obedient to his parents and very temperate in eating. He often gave his own food and clothing to the poor, for which he suffered reproach from his parents. He once gave away almost all the seed which was needed for planting in the fields. The Lord rewarded him for his charity, and the harvest gathered was greater than ever before.

As a child, he prayed fervently and often. His mother saw him more than once standing not on the ground, but in the air while he prayed.

After the death of his father, he left his mother and went to Athens, where he entered a monastery. But through the prayers of his mother, who was very concerned about him, the Lord returned him to his parental home in a miraculous manner. He spent four months there, then with his mother’s blessing he went to a solitary place on a mountain called Ioannou (or Ioannitsa). Here there was a church dedicated to the holy Unmercenaries Cosmas and Damian, where he lived an ascetical life in constant prayer and fasting. He was tonsured there by some Elders who were on pilgrimage. After this, Saint Luke redoubled his ascetic efforts, for which the Lord granted him the gift of foresight.

After a seven years on Ioannou, the saint moved to Corinth because of an invasion of the Bulgarian armies. Hearing about the exploits of a certain stylite at Patras, he went to see him, and remained for ten years to serve the ascetic with humility and obedience. Afterwards, the saint returned again to his native land and again began to pursue asceticism on Mount Ioannou.

The throngs of people flocking there disturbed his quietude, so with the blessing of his Elder Theophylactus, Saint Luke went with his disciple to a still more remote place at Kalamion. After three years, he settled on the desolate and arid island of Ampelon because of an invasion of the Turks. Steiris was another place of his ascetic efforts. Here brethren gathered to the monk, and a small monastery grew up, the church of which was dedicated to the Great Martyr Barbara. Dwelling in the monastery, the saint performed many miracles, healing sicknesses of soul and of body.

Foreseeing his end, the saint confined himself in a cell and for three months prepared for his departure. When asked where he was to be buried, the monk replied, “Throw my body into a ravine to be eaten by wild beasts.” When the brethren begged him to change these instructions, he commanded them to bury his body on the spot where he lay. Raising his eyes to heaven, he said, “Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit!”

Saint Luke fell asleep in the Lord on February 7, 946. Later, a church was built over his tomb. Myrrh flowed from his holy relics, and many healings occurred.

VENERABLE MASTRIDIA OF JERUSALEM , WOMAN ASCETIC of THE DESERT (ca. 580)

On February 7, the Orthodox Church celebrates the memory of a wonderful ascetic named Mastridia. She lived in Jerusalem, and very little is known about her life. In asceticism,

Mastridia desired to be united with our Lord Jesus Christ, , and spent many years attempting to achieve her goal. But before she started asceticism, she was courted by a certain impudent young man in Jerusalem who simply wouldn’t leave her alone. He kept harrassing her. He kept wanting to be with her. And she really didn’t want to.

At the same time, she also had great love for everyone and didn’t want to embarrass this young man. So she decided to go into the desert. She took a bowl of beans and put them in some water and carried it out into the desert. During the following years in this dry land, which was very rugged and very difficult, she reached incredible spiritual heights through her strict asceticism according to the will of the Lord. During that time, her beans never ran out. They were the only thing that she would eat. And the clothing, the garments, that she was wearing when she left, also never decayed.

She died in absolute divine radiance in the year 580 AD. She is not known to a lot of people, and there are probably many like her that are known only to the Lord. But yet the Lord has also given us but a brief glance into the life of this marvelous woman who loved Him so much she was convinced she could do all things in Him.

Source: Ancient Faith Ministries, Inc.

1 PETER 3:10-22

10 For "He who would love life And see good days, Let him refrain his tongue from evil, And his lips from speaking deceit. 11 Let him turn away from evil and do good; Let him seek peace and pursue it. 12 For the eyes of the LORD are on the righteous, And His ears are open to their prayers; But the face of the LORD is against those who do evil." 13 And who is he who will harm you if you become followers of what is good? 14 But even if you should suffer for righteousness' sake, you are blessed. "And do not be afraid of their threats, nor be troubled." 15 But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts, and always be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks you a reason for the hope that is in you, with meekness and fear;16 having a good conscience, that when they defame you as evildoers, those who revile your good conduct in Christ may be ashamed. 17 For it is better, if it is the will of God, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil. 18 For Christ also suffered once for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh but made alive by the Spirit, 19 by whom also He went and preached to the spirits in prison, 20 who formerly were disobedient, when once the Divine longsuffering waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was being prepared, in which a few, that is, eight souls, were saved through water. 21 There is also an antitype which now saves us-baptism (not the removal of the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience toward God), through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, 22 who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God, angels and authorities and powers having been made subject to Him.

MARK 12:18-27

18 Then some Sadducees, who say there is no resurrection, came to Him; and they asked Him, saying: 19 Teacher, Moses wrote to us that if a man's brother dies, and leaves his wife behind, and leaves no children, his brother should take his wife and raise up offspring for his brother. 20 Now there were seven brothers. The first took a wife; and dying, he left no offspring. 21 And the second took her, and he died; nor did he leave any offspring. And the third likewise. 22 So the seven had her and left no offspring. Last of all the woman died also. 23 Therefore, in the resurrection, when they rise, whose wife will she be? For all seven had her as wife. 24 Jesus answered and said to them, "Are you not therefore mistaken, because you do not know the Scriptures nor the power of God? 25 For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven. 26 But concerning the dead, that they rise, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the burning bush passage, how God spoke to him, saying, 'I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob'? 27 He is not the God of the dead, but the God of the living. You are therefore greatly mistaken.

[rockislandadultreads]

From the Villain’s POV: Books Recs

And I Darken by Kiersten White

No one expects a princess to be brutal. And Lada Dragwlya likes it that way. Ever since she and her gentle younger brother, Radu, were wrenched from their homeland of Wallachia and abandoned by their father to be raised in the Ottoman courts, Lada has known that being ruthless is the key to survival. She and Radu are doomed to act as pawns in a vicious game, an unseen sword hovering over their every move. For the lineage that makes them special also makes them targets. Lada despises the Ottomans and bides her time, planning her vengeance for the day when she can return to Wallachia and claim her birthright. Radu longs only for a place where he feels safe. And when they meet Mehmed, the defiant and lonely son of the sultan, Radu feels that he’s made a true friend—and Lada wonders if she’s finally found someone worthy of her passion. But Mehmed is heir to the very empire that Lada has sworn to fight against—and that Radu now considers home. Together, Lada, Radu, and Mehmed form a toxic triangle that strains the bonds of love and loyalty to the breaking point.

Prince of Thorns by Mark Lawrence

Before the thorns taught me their sharp lessons and bled weakness from me I had but one brother, and I loved him well. But those days are gone and what is left of them lies in my mother's tomb. Now I have many brothers, quick with knife and sword, and as evil as you please. We ride this broken empire and loot its corpse. They say these are violent times, the end of days when the dead roam and monsters haunt the night. All that's true enough, but there's something worse out there, in the dark. Much worse. From being a privileged royal child, raised by a loving mother, Jorg Ancrath has become the Prince of Thorns, a charming, immoral boy leading a grim band of outlaws in a series of raids and atrocities. The world is in chaos: violence is rife, nightmares everywhere. Jorg has the ability to master the living and the dead, but there is still one thing that puts a chill in him. Returning to his father's castle Jorg must confront horrors from his childhood and carve himself a future with all hands turned against him. Mark Lawrence's debut novel tells a tale of blood and treachery, magic and brotherhood and paints a compelling and brutal, and sometimes beautiful, picture of an exceptional boy on his journey toward manhood and the throne.

Half Bad by Sally Green

Wanted by no one. Hunted by everyone. Sixteen-year-old Nathan lives in a cage: beaten, shackled, trained to kill. In a modern-day England where two warring factions of witches live amongst humans, Nathan is an abomination, the illegitimate son of the world's most terrifying and violent witch, Marcus. Nathan's only hope for survival is to escape his captors, track down Marcus, and receive the three gifts that will bring him into his own magical powers—before it's too late. But how can Nathan find his father when there is no one safe to trust, not even family, not even the girl he loves? Half Bad is an international sensation and the start of a brilliant trilogy: a gripping tale of alienation and the indomitable will to survive.

You Love Me by Caroline Kepnes

Joe is done with the cities. He’s done with the muck and the posers, done with Love. Now, he’s saying hello to nature, to simple pleasures on a cozy island in the Pacific Northwest. For the first time in a long time, he can just breathe. He gets a job at the local library—he does know a thing or two about books—and that’s where he meets her: Mary Kay DiMarco. Librarian. Joe won’t meddle; he will not obsess. He’ll win her the old-fashioned way: by providing a shoulder to cry on, a helping hand. Over time, they’ll both heal their wounds and begin their happily ever after in this sleepy town. The trouble is, Mary Kay already has a life. She’s a mother. She’s a friend. She’s busy. True love can only triumph if both people are willing to make room for the real thing. Joe cleared his decks. He’s ready. And hopefully, with his encouragement and undying support, Mary Kay will do the right thing and make room for him.

[miserable-pile-of-lies]

The Sleeping Beauty of Wallachia Ch. 3 (Full)

I know it's been a lifetime since I last updated the story, but I really wanted to deliver with this chapter as it sets up the basic frame of the fanfic! I really hope you guys enjoy what I came up with, feel free to leave reviews on A03!

Summary: Wallachia is in great peril at the behest of Death himself; all those who have attempted to battle the creature have swiftly been executed and made an example of. The key to defeating the beast lies in Dracula's castle, located twenty odd miles out from a small village by the name of Danesti. In this village, the headwoman Greta must act quickly to save her people from the onslaught of attacks by night creatures and other minions who have sworn their loyalty to Death. Will she alone be able to stop Death or will she require additional aid to save Wallachia?

Skeletal appendages scraped furiously against the transmission mirror depicting the Speaker and head woman, muttering a string of curses against the two mortals. Death hovered in the dimly lit war hall, formerly the stronghold of the vampire king Dracula, standing in front of the reflective surface while his jawbone rattled in a fit of rage.

“Those damn Speakers continue to impede the progress of my fucking war,” the entity spat out savagely, swinging his gargantuan scythe in the general direction of his night troops. Night creatures nervously searched the faces of one another, conflicted by the appearance of their commander who currently donned his true form.

In the presence of their Forgemaster Hector, a naïve necromancer native to the distant country of Greece, the mystical being deceitfully modeled his appearance after that of Vlad Dracula Țepeș. Despite the steadfast loyalty the night creatures held towards their liege, Death had promised the beasts an unlimited supply of sustenance that what would ultimately lead to the extermination of humanity.

Left with free reign of the planet, the night hordes would transform Gaia into a ruinous paradise where the nighttime skies dominated daylight and the forsaken creatures would never have to return to the torturous confinements of Hell.

“The whole lot of you are absolutely useless, do I have to do everything on my own,” the grim reaper lamented, waving a hand to dissolve the magical mirror’s image, erasing the sight of the two women that would later contribute to his demise. One night creature resembling a large bat blew through its nostrils tactlessly, finding no amusement in the unprovoked castigation of the army.

Hearing the sound of the snort, Death languidly turned its effervescent build towards the large beast, staring daggers in retaliation at the ill-timed slight.

“Braying like an ass will not change my words, I was perfectly clear in my demands,” the angel of death howled out powerfully, raising the daunting crescent of his scythe above his frightening form. Making quick work of the unlucky demon, the gruff of its neck caught onto the merciless edge of the blade and the head of the devilish bat soared into the air in moments. Blood sprayed out from the decapitated monster as it unceremoniously fell on the polished floors of the chambers. Exposed arteries showered its nearby compatriots cowering in fear at the execution, all halting further movements.

“Would anyone else care to challenge my words, if so, step forward,” Death questioned calmly, effectively slinging off the blood that clung to the steel of his otherworldly weapon. Silence filled the war hall effectively, no one dared to stand in opposition against the underworld ruler.

On the verge of throwing a fit, Death stopped in his tracks at the sound of quickened footsteps in the distance, closing in on the massive war hall. Permitting a gratuitous exhale, the immortal turned his back to the night hordes who readied themselves for the newcomer, recognizing the familiar footfalls from anywhere. With the flourish of his skeletal hand the grim reaper chanted inaudibly, summoning forth his power to shapeshift into the rightful lord of the castle.

Tendinous muscles bloomed in the place of bone, quickly overtaking the shrinking mass of Death who groaned in soothing tones at the tickling sensation. Inky black hair sprouted from the scalp of his skull and fine threads of linen materialized over muted skin. Black wool breeches pooled over his long legs while a standard charcoal doublet garnished with the Țepeș family insignia appeared over the newly formed body of Vlad’s imposter. Polished leather boots clacked as Death spun around for the night creatures to observe his clever disguise, finishing the last transfigurations needed to complete the transformation.

Looking back into the transmission mirror, the surface reflected an image of the war lord indiscernible from the genuine article currently incapacitated by Death. Sharp claws adorned with a platinum wedding band traced over the mirror thoughtfully, not bothered by the sudden intrusion of Hector who appeared to be out of breath from dashing from his workshop.

Strands of starlight shook gently as the Grecian man doubled over from exhaustion, sweat gathering at his brow as his vision locked onto Dracula. Gently gripping the railing of the grand master stairway, the Forgemaster allowed himself a moment to catch his breath while his night creatures marched out of the war hall.

“Dracula, we need to replenish our forces, the number of casualties in your army continue to rise across Wallachia,” Hector announced wearily. Currently, the Forgemaster worked tirelessly around the clock to provide the soldiers that supplied Dracula’s army. Although he was honored to be chosen as the chief general in the crusade against humanity, Hector could not help but feel that he was reaching his limitations. Additionally, the necromancer pondered the whereabouts of his equal Isaac who had yet to make an appearance in the court of Dracula. Feeling a stab of disappointment at the late arrival of Isaac, Hector found his hands tied up with numerous tasks that did little to distract his thoughts that led to the other Forgemaster.

The two necromancers had been introduced to one another with the assistance of Dracula during his pursuit of knowledge upon Lisa’s request. Hector recalled being in awe, shyly eyeing the other sorcerer whose appearance was quite different than what he had expected based on Dracula’s vague description of the man. Wise beyond his years in matters of philosophy, the Ghanaian man bore the façade of a fabled ruler from a faraway land. Sharp cheekbones exquisitely found purchase against the high points of his face, sleek lines defining the entirety of his graceful form.

However, the other man was unapproachable in their initial encounters, seeking no camaraderie with Hector outside of their shared association with Dracula. Life had dealt a fair share of cruelties to Isaac; sold into slavery at a very young age, his village invaded by Teutonic Knights seeking gold on behalf of the Catholic Church. Having his own share of hardships, Hector faced abuse administered by his parents and peers throughout his lifetime.

Despite the difficulty bonding with Isaac, it became clear to the reserved man that Hector coveted their connection and respected him despite their different worldviews. Isaac slowly began to disclose tidbits of information about his past, detailing the events of his travels throughout the years. The young philosopher was often met with unwarranted violence, constantly badgered by men who had something to prove. Following suit in storytelling, Hector confided in Isaac about his current quarters on the island of Rhodes, forced into isolation by locals who feared the Forgemaster.

“They called me a demon, convinced that I was a byproduct of Satan and his wickedness,” Hector confessed quietly around the campfire. Looking across the flickering flames, his companions offered their sympathy in silence at the disheartened declaration.

Aquamarine hues reflected sorrow, recalling the daily deliverance of venomous words from his birth parents. His mother Rhea viewed her son as a curse, damning their family from the moment he left her womb. His father Cyrus cruelly forced Hector to use his abilities for his greed, completely lacking any attachment to his son. Trauma was an understatement when it came to describing the afflictions he suffered under the roof of his childhood home, every day more miserable than the previous one.

Hector recalled reaching his breaking point when his mother and father heartlessly set aflame Cassius, an undead canine that he revived in the picturesque meadows of Corfu. Infuriated by Hector and his strange proclivities of bringing dead animals into their living quarters, Rhea ripped off a long branch from a nearby olive tree.

“If only I could have foreseen the depravity of your character; why did God gift me with an evil seed,” Rhea cursed ruthlessly while beating a sobbing Hector, leaving irritated welts across his vulnerable back and arms. Curling into a fetal position to avoid the worst of his mother’s fury, Hector begged his mother to stop, but she refused to relent her punishment.

In retaliation, Hector ignited the residence under the cover of darkness, miming the brutality of his parents in an episode of calculated rage. Horrid screams shattered the silence of the night, smoke carrying the scent of burning flesh that could be smelled for miles. Neighbors cautiously gathered around the family home in horror, hurling a plethora of wicked expletives directed to the young boy. Hector retreated into the night wordlessly, never returning to the island of Corfu.

“Your story furthers my point, humanity is an infestation that ravages anything it comes into contact with,” Isaac asserted casually, wrapping his artisan hands around a ceramic mug containing water infused with citrus tones. Mahogany eyes squinted in displeasure at the shortcomings of mankind; a species that Isaac deemed unnecessary given their lack of purity and selfishness.

Propping an alabaster hand against his temple, Dracula wordlessly looked to both men who appeared to be at a standstill in the discussion.

“Peculiar would not even begin to express the paradoxical nature of this discussion, wouldn’t the two of you agree,” Dracula suggested whimsically while rising from the dewy grassland. Both humans exchanged a perplexed look with one another before allowing their supernatural companion to continue his train of thought.

“Despite the misfortunes that you both have endured, neither of you have purposefully gone out of your way to hurt others,” the vampire explained with a faint smile, looking to the two magically imbued mortals. Hector allowed a small smile of his own to surface in agreeance while Isaac quietly mulled over the words in deep contemplation.

Not long after their travels together, Isaac followed Dracula’s recommendation of perusing the world for further insight on humanity and what it had to offer. Traveling through the city of Tunis to return to his abode in the Western Sahara Desert, Isaac encountered a man who simply went by the name of Captain. Commanding a crew of forty-four men, the Captain invited Isaac to explore the world with him, seeing curiosity twinkling in those umber hues. Prior to the present war, both Hector and Isaac communicated through the distance mirrors gifted to them by Dracula. The vampire was quite insistent about the two staying in touch, emphasizing the importance of their friendship.

Hector listened in wonder at the tales that Isaac narrated, completely enthralled by the whirlwind of journeys that Isaac experienced across the globe. Various knick-knacks were presented under the ever-watchful eye of Hector, souvenirs gifted by companions made along the way during his world expedition. Contentment radiated off Isaac in a terrific arrangement throughout their conversations over the next couple of months, feeling closer than ever before to the other Forgemaster. Despite the Ghanaian man being worlds away from Hector’s humble abode in Rhodes, the Grecian man truly felt that he could call himself Isaac’s friend.

“I have never felt more at peace Hector,” Isaac conceded amicably as the sound of relaxing waves sloshed in the backdrop of his lodgings, retiring to his personal cabin for the night. The other Forgemaster curled his body against the worn mat in his small man-made hut, propping a hand under his chiseled chin. Daydreaming about a life of exciting escapades, preferably at the side of Isaac or Dracula, Hector allowed his imagination to run wild. However, Hector lacked the confidence to travel on his own at the mercy of other humans, knowing that his naivety could easily be exploited.

“What you have accomplished is an astounding feat, I’m happy for you,” Hector professed honestly while gently scratching behind the ear of his curious pet Cezar, the small pup wagging its stubby tail at the attention of his master. Tucking away a lingering lock that swayed in his vision, the Corfu native was thrilled that Isaac had achieved inner peace in his ventures to distant lands. Prattling on into the night as they often did, the two men would communicate almost daily until calamity struck Wallachia.

_____________________________________________________________________________

False rumors quickly spread across Wallachia regarding Lisa Țepeș, all unfounded accounts of the human doctor being a malevolent witch who used black magic to heal the residents of Târgoviște. Local priests and clergymen of the Catholic Church demanded that the woman burn at the stake for her crimes, claiming that Lisa denounced the teachings of the church through her unorthodox methods. Leading the public lynching of the innocent physician, the Bishop stormed the cottage and burned the structure without remorse, gleefully watching the home crumble in on itself amongst the flames.

Not long after the unexpected invasion, Dracula was alarmed by a disturbance in the cosmos after departing from the market town of Târgșor. The small town was roughly three miles out from the small dwelling that he shared with his wife from time to time following the birth of their son Adrian. The scholar had just returned to Wallachia after a year of traveling, departing from the port city of Braila just days ago. Wasting no time, the voivode glided through the bleak skies of a Wallachian winter, perturbed by the prickling unease that struck him out of nowhere. From the darkened clouds above, the nosferatu noticed fumes shrouding the small refuge of their home, seeing two figures situated in what remained of the cottage.

Crimson red engulfed the sclerae of Vlad’s eyes, his wrathful aura alerting one of the two creatures standing. Ivory frost coated platinum blond loose waves that resembled that of his wife Lisa, golden eyes widening in apprehension as the youth registered the presence of his father. An old woman crouched remorsefully by the young man with a hand full of withered cowslips picked from the nearby flora, laying them down in front of the incinerated remnants of the home.

“Words cannot express how indebted I am to your mother, the church has truly gone too far,” the elderly human muttered repentantly, clasping her worn hands together in a silent prayer. Jet black locks viciously swirled around the pale visage of the vampire, treading through the snowy sleet that did little to impede his powerful steps. Finally stopping before the pair, hellfire danced in his blazing irises that refused to burn out.

“Where is your mother and why were you not by her side,” Vlad snarled out quietly while dropping his traveling sack onto the blanketing snow, glowering at the dhampir without any inhibitions. A wave of tremendous guilt washed over Alucard at the blunt criticism of his father, unable to loosen the knot in his throat. Dark fitted leather gloves squeaked in protest, looking to the longsword he held in his hand for guidance. The weapon was a keepsake given to him by his mother in his teen years, a family heirloom passed through the ages.

“Mother asked me to travel to the city of Pitești to purchase medicinal herbs from the local market for her patients, I was only gone for two days,” the young man weakly explained. Raising a gloved hand to his temple in silent resignation, his eyes shut worriedly at the unknown fate of his mother, hauled away to the town square of Târgoviște to be burned for all to see.

Bloodied tears mirrored those that ran translucent in a state of clear distress. Despite the two butting heads from time to time, Vlad and Adrian loved Lisa more than anything else in the world so it was no question what they needed to do now. Casting a downward glance at the woman who knelt in the frosty snow, Vlad looked to the human thankful that at least one soul refused to participate in the cruel spectacle. Slowly rising to her feet with creaking bones, Alucard lent a hand to help Mrs. Djuvara rise from the snowfall, alleviating the strain of her getting up from the ground to the best of his abilities.

“The Bishop left about thirty minutes ago sir, rambling like a mad man after seeing the contents of the cottage,” the gray-haired crone commentated apologetically, gently thanking Alucard for his assistance. Giving her full attention to Vlad, almond-shaped eyes lowered in thought before she deemed it appropriate to continue.

“The Catholic Church wishes for Lisa to burn at the stake, those clergymen should be ashamed,” Mrs. Djuvara angrily expressed, crossing her arms at a complete loss.

If those bastards wish to burn my wife, blood shall be spilled all over these lands the immortal scholar promised menacingly while Alucard looked to his father with unadulterated determination. Somewhere in his delicate heart Alucard knew that his mother would be saved and that she would not want either of the men to spiral into violence on her behalf.

“There is no time to waste, we need to leave now Father if we hope to stop them,” Alucard suggested gently, sheathing his longsword into the scabbard that was fastened to his hip. Silently nodding in agreeance, Vlad directed one last glance to Mrs. Djuvara who watched the two men with concern.

“Thank you for your kindness, this act of generosity will not be forgotten,” Vlad expressed with a slight nod in her general direction. Turning on his heel, Vlad charged back into the frigid heavens once more. Following in suit, Alucard gave a polite bow in a show of gratitude before he took to the gloomy skies after his father.

“I truly hope she is alright,” the kind woman spoke in hushed tones, rubbing her aged palms together to regain some warmth before heading down the slushy path with careful steps. Tucked away in the grim forest nearby, a shadowy figure briskly swore, praying that the two supernatural beings would fail to reach the physician in time.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Not a soul in Wallachia knows what occurred following these events, only aware that Lisa never reached the town square as the Bishop had intended. The Catholic Church decided not to pursue the matter any further after several months passed, deciding that God would be pleased by their work regardless of her unknown whereabouts. Many speculations were made by those residing in Târgoviște relishing a year of peace following the abduction of Lisa Țepeș, theorizing that she used her craftiness to escape the reach of the church. Completely unaware of the violence that would pervade the cursed province, Wallachians returned to their daily routines and forgot all about Lisa of Lupu.

Shortly after the presumed tragedy, Hector received a distress signal from his distance mirror roughly six months ago, contacted by Dracula to conduct a global population cull. Briefly explaining what led to the maniacal request, the vampiric king pleaded that Hector travel to Romania to assist in his war against mankind. At a loss for words, Hector hesitantly asked Dracula to give him more time to consider the harrowing proposal.

Feeling guilt streaming through his conscience, the necromancer attempted to contact Isaac for additional guidance in what path he should walk. However, the other Forgemaster failed to answer the line of communication that both were accustomed to. Left to his own devices and feeling indebted to Dracula for his kindness in those previous months together, Hector agreed to act as a general in the vampire’s army. At the acceptance of the request, Dracula summoned forward his transmission mirror, allowing Hector to safely arrive to Wallachia without a moment to waste.

Upon his arrival, Hector noticed several oddities while exploring the expansive fortress. For one, Dracula failed to mention that Hector and Isaac would be the only generals acting in his army. While the Grecian man understood that Dracula detested the vampires in his inner court, the sorcerer could not understand the set of tactics that his master presented. No vampires had been spotted in the months he spent in the estate. Marbled hallways remained vacant apart from the night creatures that passed through on occasion, leaving Hector with so many questions that would remain unanswered.

Moreover, the late appearance of Isaac bothered Hector to no end, knowing that the missing Forgemaster prided himself on being punctual. When the young wizard prodded Dracula about the man in question, the lord of the castle insisted that he could not get ahold of Isaac.

“I have tried to speak to Isaac on several occasions, yet I cannot seem to reach him,” Dracula permitted after weeks of leading Hector on about the whereabouts of the Ghanaian man.

Hearing the admission aloud troubled the tanned islander despite the war lord attempting to put his mind at ease.

“Who could possibly harm Isaac, he will be fine,” the undead tyrant exclaimed irritably with the wave of his hand, silencing the anxious man altogether. Shortly after his biting remark, Dracula issued an apology to the dismayed general, explaining that he meant no harm. During his tenure at the castle, Hector took notice of the constant mood swings that afflicted Dracula, his temperament setting off at the slightest inconvenience.

Night creatures controlled by the childlike fellow were disposed of in cruel moments dealt by the voivode, often victims of senseless brutality. Seeing their battered remains evoked memories from the childhood that Hector desperately tried to escape, feeling ill when coming across his slaughtered beasts. In those moments, Dracula knew exactly what to say, explaining that his episodic cruelty stemmed from his immeasurable sorrow. Despite it being clear that his lord was still in mourning, the sorcerer could not help, but feel that many details leading to the tragedy were abstract in nature.

Only once did Hector attempt to question Vlad about the demise of his wife, hoping that he could comfort his friend. Unsurprisingly, Dracula vehemently lashed out at Hector when inquiring about Lisa, clarifying that his grief was too painful to blatantly express.

“Her passing is like an open wound that was left to fester Hector, vulnerably exposed to the brutal elements,” the sovereign spat out venomously. Approaching the portrait of Lisa that sat in his over cluttered study, Dracula tenderly caressed the oil painting with a hollowed expression.

Feeling a strange mix of empathy and apprehension, Hector simply observed the unsettling scene, concluding that he could not offer the consolation that his liege would never be able to claim.

The two quickly began to draft plans, offering their own introspections about which cities would best serve as ground zero in the war. Setting the tone of the attacks was of the utmost importance to Dracula, deeming that the first strike against Wallachia would determine the success of future battles. After careful consideration, the warlord determined that the first skirmish had to be personal in nature so that Wallachians took his actions seriously. Maneuvering a pasty hand against a yellowed map of Romania, a finger landed on the foundation of his misery, allowing an insidious smirk to sprout in place.

Târgoviște would be the first target of Dracula’s unbridled fury in avenging Lisa, staking claim on the capitol in one fell swoop. Many attempted to escape the city in the initial wave of attacks but quickly fell victim to the onslaught of the night hordes. Those surviving escaped through elaborate labyrinths lying underneath the city, fleeing north to the region of Transylvania. News quickly spread regarding the ambush on Târgoviște, survivors warning anyone in proximity to desert Wallachia at once.

Not long after, Hector began to expand the numbers in Dracula’s army with the excess of corpses from successful frays around Wallachia. His materials for forging varied in appearance, leaving the necromancer to question his own moral compass at times. Some of remains relatively intact appeared to be as young as a five-year-old, robbed of a meaningful life all too soon. Others seemed elderly to the point of having issues with mobility, their joints stiffened from a lifetime of working day in and day out.

Shaking away these intrusive thoughts, Hector continued to perform his duties to the best of his abilities, successfully overtaking many cities with his revived hellhounds. Things were running according to plan until the unexpected appearance of Speakers in Greşit; the mages assisting the common people from the attacks of night creatures. Since then, different caravans had travelled throughout the province in hopes of defending the innocent civilians falling prey to the unexpected raids commanded by Dracula.

Projecting the falsehood of contemplation under the focused gaze of the young man, the doppelganger summoned away the enchanted mirror. Pacing to the throne that sat at the heart of the war hall, the faux Dracula slowly sat down while interlacing his corpse like fingers together.

“What do you suggest that we do Hector,” Dracula requested patiently, looking to the Forgemaster currently descending the steps with a weighted gaze. Drawing himself to the side of his master, Hector failed to ignore the fallen night creature slain in the war hall, its fresh blood still perfuming the stagnant air. Sparing a brief glance at the sight of the corpse, the magician allowed a downcast expression to cloud his handsome features, pity flooding his body.

“The night creatures need guidance on the battlefield; however, we do not have the means to be everywhere at once Master Dracula,” Hector expressed bluntly.

Conceding with a small bob, the commander of the army allowed his high-ranking officer to pursue his thread of reasoning.

“Why not utilize your vampiric subjects in this war, they could easily best anyone that challenged your authority,” the magical user hesitantly recommended after a beat of silence. Thrumming his lengthy fingers along the arms of the dark oak throne, an extended sigh was released at the suggestion. Craning his neck to make eye contact with the standing Forgemaster, Dracula allowed an unrefined snort to escape his mountainous frame, startling Hector with the action.

Rising from his cushioned seat, the imposter scrutinized the undead conjurer with a wary eye, bending down to gander at the Mediterranean male. Suppressing the urge to back away at the sudden invasion of his personal boundaries, Hector furrowed his brow but remained in place, refusing to yield to the intimidation tactic. Nevertheless, his heart thrashed madly inside the cavity of his chest, unsure of how Dracula would respond to the open defiance of his commanding general.

Surprisingly, the ghoulish sovereign beckoned the sorcerer to follow his footsteps up the stairway, leaving Hector stupefied. After Hector took a moment to gather his bearings, his stride shadowed his master who walked ahead in silence.

On the upper level of the castle, the crackle of lightning could be heard within the glass lanterns decorating the top of massive pillars. The Forgemaster trailed behind the imposing figure of Dracula by several steps, pondering the undisclosed destination that his master had in mind. Peculiar rooms embellished with the strange mechanisms of the castle passed in the background, colossal cogs spinning in tandem to power the lifelike structure. Illuminated by the blue radiance from the electrically powered lamps, both men began to slow their extended steps before coming to a complete stop at the appearance of an unexplored threshold previously unknown to Hector.

Darkness swept away any previous amusement from the face of the vampire, retrieving a skeletal key shrouded in a venomous miasma, visible to even the unsuspecting eye of Hector. Sweat beaded across tanned skin that shivered at what lied ahead, a wave of unexpected nausea overriding his otherwise well disposition. Am I being punished for what I previously suggested Hector questioned shakily, fearing that his unfiltered callousness stirred the rage of his liege.

“Hector, you must promise me that you will never tell anyone about this particular room,” Dracula cooed softly, brushing a frigid hand against the quivering form of his subject. Unbeknownst to the Grecian man, Hector faced no danger behind the doorway that Dracula wished to show him.

Nodding reluctantly at the inquiry, Hector directed a skittish glance to his master wordlessly. Wasting no more time, the entryway of the room was swung open by an otherworldly force, revealing an otherwise chaste setting.

Gossamer curtains carelessly blew back and forward, blinding sunlight filtering through the boarded windows of the secret lodging. Surprise struck the features of the Forgemaster, seeing a mysterious man in the center of the room, lying in a lavish canopy bed. The lord of the castle hesitantly entered the room with a grimace, trudging towards the rest station with heavy footfalls. Tilting his head downwards, Dracula once again gestured for Hector to follow his lead, inviting the magician to stand by him with the repeated curl of his ghoulish finger.

Promptly accepting the invitation, the Corfu native briskly paced his steps to stand by his commander, following the line of attention given to the ethereal man sleeping in the comfort of the bed. The expanse of porcelain skin revealed the lean form of the fellow, marred by an unsightly scar that splayed across his Adonis-like chest. Flaxen loose curls attractively framed the resting warrior, unfurling around the man in a breathtaking impression that resembled the mythical tresses of the Greek god Apollo. The celestial being only wore leather-bound trousers that effectively displayed his powerful yet lithe frame, equal parts refined and daunting in aura.

Clearing his throat at the awkward stretch of silence, a pale hand splayed across the bare chest of the dhampir, partially covering the only imperfection that could be found on the man.

“My son attempted to thwart my plans in avenging my wife,” Dracula carefully disclosed. Slithering the hand upward, his icy hand cupped the sculptured cheekbone belonging to the youth in bed.

Looking between the parent and child, it was clear to Hector who the unconscious beauty resembled, favoring the late woman that he often saw in the disorderly study of his sovereign. Only around the eyes and brows could he see the influence of his master, both father and son showcasing striking features that conveyed their noble heritage. Despite the discovery of Adrian seizing his interest, the Forgemaster was befuddled by the late introduction of the halfling prince.

“Before his betrayal, I tried to call on the assistance of the closest generals within my court, demanding that they come at once after what the humans had done to my beloved wife,” the vampire king hissed while drawing back his claws from his sole heir.

Pausing for the sake of building momentum in the elaborate lie, the false Dracula closed his crimson eyes, soundlessly relishing in the misplaced trust of the naive sorcerer.

“A vampire by the name of Orlok struck down Adrian with a cursed blade despite my prompt warnings, leaving him in this weakened state,” the voivode admitted with a bite, leaving a disquieted Hector to piece together what occurred.

Starlight strands shook at this revelation, finally coming to terms with the reluctance that his master exhibited at the mention of vampires being at the forefront of his war. Loyal subordinates of Dracula mortally wounded his offspring, proving themselves to be as depraved as human beings.

“I came to a realization following the near death of my successor; neither vampires nor humans deserve to walk these lands,” the executioner confessed boldly. According to the violent account of the crown ruler, Dracula dispatched every vampire in his path following the assault of his cherished son.

Bonds of blood and love fueled his animosity towards his own species, concluding that vampires were incapable of viewing mortal creatures as purposeful creatures.

“Please forgive me for my suggestion, it was an unreasonable request,” Hector confessed sorrowfully. Brushing off the verbal sputtering of his general, the doppelganger felt a ripple of fatigue begin to hammer away at the effectiveness of the spell disguising his legitimate form.

I will have to dismiss him at once Death deliberated apprehensively, detecting that the veil of the glamour was slipping rapidly from his persistent usage of the spell as of late. Allowing a rare genial smile to surface, Dracula summoned his tactical officer away, promising that he would find a proper solution to lessen the workload of the Forgemaster.

“Words alone cannot describe my gratitude Master Dracula, I will not fail you,” Hector promised with a bright smile, feeling a surge of passion spark at the unguarded constitution of his friend.

Once the jovial magician departed from the alcove, a deep scowl set on the face of the imposter wearing the skin of Dracula, sickened by the fictitious bond between him and the accursed man-child. Death lifted the enchantment camouflaging the angel of death, gliding over to the unmoved form of Alucard. Flesh melted away in a horrifying reveal, making way for the signature semblance of the spectre.

“Do you hear me Alucard,” the grim reaper griped, clearly miffed by the tireless charade that he put on day in and day out to accomplish his current objective. Procuring an agreeable spot in a gothic high back chair that sat close by, the entity permitted a superfluous exhale to leave his lungless structure. Gazing at the sleeping prince, a sharpened appendage attempted to pierce the heart of the unconscious youth. Simultaneously, a visible force field crackled at the threat of danger for the son of Dracula, Death forcibly removed by the triggered spell. Allocated by the true ruler of the castle, the spell allowed Alucard to remain unharmed by the malicious entity, protected by the paternal love of his father.

Groaning at the effectiveness of the hex, a feral snarl erupted from the underworld king. Stomping back to close in on the cursed male, the skeletal face of Death unceremoniously crowded in the proximity of the defenseless dhampir. Small breaths escaped from the gorgeous warrior compelled to sleep against his will, unable to voice his displeasure against the depraved creature.

“That cock wart Dracula will pay for making a mockery out of me, I will find away to break this spell and I will take what rightfully is mine,” Death assured brusquely, gripping the hollowed cheeks of his captive. Releasing the delicate face of the supernatural fighter, the grim reaper vanished from the chambers, slicing through the frigid air of the room with his trustworthy scythe.

Creating an ingress that led to the Infinite Corridor, Death saw a copious number of settings distorting the foundation of time and space, different eras and locations all residing within the unusual dimension.

“In order to assure my victory, I must douse out any semblance of hope for humanity,” the supernatural being concluded grimly. Selecting a seemingly arbitrary setting, Death pursued the target he had sought out for months: the absent Forgemaster Isaac.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Harsh pants dispensed at the suffocating dryness of the barren lands; a wearied figure found difficulty with properly trekking through the golden sand that seemed infinite. Bringing the waxed batik fabric of his bell-shaped sleeve to his drenched brow, Isaac squinted in exhaustion at the compression of heat, seeing waves distort his unreliable vision. Leering at the nothingness that extended for miles, the Ghanaian man paused in his journey. Looking back at the night creatures created from the remains of desert bandits, maroon eyes warily searched the blazing heavens to see if the deadly entity hid amongst his troops.

Dropping to his knees abruptly, the Forgemaster felt his stamina begin to plummet at an unprecedented rate. For several months the necromancer avoided the grim reaper with the assistance of his distance mirror, indebted to Dracula for his selflessness during a critical time in Wallachia. Frowning in discontentment at the unpleasant memory, the sorcerer felt responsible for failing the traveling scholar in his time of need.

Approximately a year ago, Isaac received a distressed message from his highly esteemed friend Dracula, foreboding the current events that he now endured. While the communication from the man of letters was not an aberration in his daily rituals, the Forgemaster noticed an immediate difference in the usually collected countenance of the vampire king.

Shooting pains stirred within the frontal lobe of his head at the recollection, immediately bringing Isaac back to the tumultuous present. Night creatures gathered around their master, concerned by the abnormal behavior of the dark skinned enchanter. One night creature by the name of Fly Eyes stood at the forefront of the troops, chittering away commands to instruct the lesser beings within their ranks to search for nourishment at once.

Attempting to placate the dehydrated magician, Flyseyes knelt by the side of the Ghanaian man, gently prying open the attractive curve of plump lips with his razor-sharp talons.

Carefully bringing his hands to his side, Flyseyes retrieved a leather waterskin from the satchel belonging to his liege. Despite his nightmarish appearance, the night creature retained a good deal of his humanity, constantly conversing with Isaac about a great deal of worldly matters. In his previous life, the anthropomorphic fly acted as a Greek philosopher who died in the ancient city of Athens, remembering inconsequential details from his past. Delicious morsels for discussions by the fire, the creature inspired new trains of thought for Isaac with his wisdom and vice versa.

“You really should drink Isaac, do you wish to expire,” the night creature prattled with a hint of admonition, the water-filled receptacle promptly placed in front of the revenant summoner. Allowing a small exhale to leave his crumbled form, the Forgemaster gladly accepted the offering given by his wise servant, taking extensive gulps to savor the lukewarm water.

Pulling back to intake an influx of fresh air, Isaac straightened his toned frame, unable to articulate his hopelessness. Wide vermillion eyes stared adamantly, refusing to yield in their conquest of retrieving their master, the wise man seeming so lost for the first time since the two met.

“Death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here,” the night creature mentioned offhandedly, raising a barbed nail to pick at the human flesh stuck between his visceral fangs.

Down casted burgundy eyes closed at the ancient Athenian proverb, shaken by his own bewilderment, instead offering an Islamic adage to combat his own troubled psyche.

“Life is not guaranteed at all, but death is absolutely guaranteed upon all, yet we still prepare for life more than death,” the necromancer countered, passing the waterskin to the puzzled night creature.

Although the demonic entity politely accepted the leather canteen, Flyseyes no longer required the fundamental resources needed for human survival. Placing the waterskin by his side in the shifting silt, the jarring beast stood up, seeing the dispatched creatures returning to their malnourished master bearing gifts. Not too far off, a small caravan trailed in the overshadow of the flying critters, a small collection of several men and women on camelback.

Slowly, Isaac retrieved his forging dagger from the rough cotton sash tied to his strong core, prepared to add the travelers to his ranks if need be. Shockingly, the men appeared to be completely calm, not bothered by the presence of the Forgemaster or his beasties. Cool steel began to heat up in his clammy palms, hooded eyes sinking close from the burnout administered by the unexpected travels leading him to the accursed desert.

This is the end I suppose, my only regret is dying in this hellish heat Isaac mused casually, falling onto the fiery golden sea. Vision blackening at the edges, the last sight captured by Isaac was the dismounting of the leader, an unusual ambiance filling the air at his arrival.

[luxmaeastra]

Eris wasn't sure why he was telling Nesta. No that was a lie, he knew. She didn't treat him like shit and was probably the closest person he had to a friend in Prythian. Sure he had friends in other courts and outside of Prythian. But they all weren't friends altruistically. Even Witches like Cahir or Eliren, they were friends by association. That was fine he didn't need many friends - he just needed some fucking peace.

He played with the ring on his chain, he felt somewhat content now. Knowing Enyo was at peace and busy with her work tonight. That she wasn't waiting for him like he sometimes worried she would be.

"The announcements go out tomorrow. I wanted you to have one before then."

He held it out. It read:

Heir Apparent to The Court of Autumn Eris Fairwillow has wed and mated Royal Master Artificer to Vallhan Enyo Truesky. They thank all for the well wishes and gifts. As is Autumn tradition they will ring the Autumnal Equinox with revelry and a massive bonfire. All are invited to wine and dine with them.

He doubted she'd understand the significance of using his true Maiden name. But he was so tired of it. Of everything that had happened. Why did others get their happy ending when he and Enyo had to be so careful.

He had no intentions of taking The Black Island from Dagda. But he wanted to make him squirm. He wanted to piss Beron and Jesper off for doing stupid shit.

Beron was too busy to look anything over and he would be blindsided by this. Eris felt a surge of satisfaction - as he should be. What had he said when Bruni had died? Sometimes unfortunate things happen? Surely this was one of those times as well?

"I am excited to show her off to everyone - I'm sure Rhysand will be excited to meet her."

Did Nesta know Rhysand's mother's Maiden name? From what Enyo had said Inessa had been a ward or Windahaven. Her family eaten by beasts. Devlon's father had found her and brought her to Windhaven to be raised alongside the other orphans. Would Feyre know? Would Morrigan care about any of it?

//feel free for Nesta to know all of this either through Feyre or just on her own having witnessed it in Dusk. Haha//

Nesta took the announcement he held it out to her, her gaze focused on him before she allowed it to fall to the thing in her hands. She honestly hadn’t expected him to seek her out of all people, nor did she expect to be given something that had not even been given out to anyone else before that. Not many actually considered her for such things, not many people thought her worthy to be aware of information before anyone else.

She looked over the announcement, noting the information that was being shared. She raised an eyebrow as she looked at Eris, actually surprised that he was sharing such happy news with her. This was strange, currently not something she was used to.

“You do realize if you’re inviting me to something like this, that I have a less than charming partner who will tag along?” She questioned him. “I can’t promise he’ll be on his best behaviour either.” Though she was sure Cassian would behave himself, though she wasn’t sure if Eris understood she couldn’t just leave him at home – she dreaded what she would return home to.

“Regardless of all that, congratulations on your marriage and mating…I am not sure if I said that correctly.” Certain things were still new to her, of course congratulating someone on their marriage was one thing, but the mating bonds was another. She was still getting use to her own with Cassian, who done his best to help her adjust.

Nesta reviewed the announcement again, his own comment caught her off guard a little. As much as she pretended not to keep up with the courts and the history of various people, she was sure she seen something somewhere about a connection, something to do with her brother-in-law – not that she was actively interested in him and where he came from.

[gardenofkore]

“Sicily’s women have always been shadowy figures, crouched quietly in doorways or gazing down the crowded streets from balustraded or shuttered windows. For most of the medieval period they have left no direct record of themselves, since, with a few exceptions, they could neither read nor write - and even the possession of literacy, for those few lucky enough to enjoy it, did not give one the right to act or speak independently. As a consequence, very few records survive to shed light on their activities, and virtually none of the records we have present the women in their own voices. In the intensely conservative society of Sicily, women lived their lives under tight constraints; the traditional roles that society gave them gravely limited their freedom to act and ours to behold. Local customs, in general, were designed to isolate and protect women from the outside world, to keep them safely ensconced in their fathers’ homes until they could be safely and just as absolutely ensconced in their husbands’ homes, or, for the devout and dowry-less, dedicated to God in a nunnery. Not until the Vespers era - an era inaugurated with a rebellion sparked by an Angevin outrage against a native woman - do Sicily’s women come into view with any meaningful detail of focus. Our view of them is still partial and imperfect, given the limitations of even this improved documentation. But the extant evidence holds a few surprises.The most visible figures belong of course to the aristocracy. After 1282, and as a result of it, Sicily’s queens played important roles in society. The Catalan dynasty placed the bulk of its claim to the throne on its marriage link with Constance, the last of the Hohenstaufens. Consequently, the right to inherit title and property through the female line was well established. Frederick’s and James’s father, although he had conquered the realm and had received the acclamation of the Communitas Sicilie, consistently emphasized his right to rule through his marriage to Constance; and Frederick too, as we saw earlier, asserted his inheritance of Constance’s patrimony, rather than his election by parliament, as the chief legitimation of his kingship. As queen, Constance began the practice of sitting in the MRC and taking her place in the king’s inner circle of advisers. Extant records show her working to reconcile the church to the new dynasty, to foster greater unity of action among Sicily’s contending factions and regions, and to educate the new ruling caste to Sicilian customs. When Peter left the island in order to tend to matters in Catalonia, Constance headed the lieutenancy council that governed the realm in his absence; and she continued to advise the throne during James’s reign. As late as 1296 her aid was still sought by those who wanted to influence decisions at court, although the extent of her influence by that time had clearly waned.Frederick’s wife Eleanor likewise was a member of the council and exerted a fair share of influence. As with Constance, this influence had more to do with economics than ideology. As independent ruler of the camera reginale, the queen controlled a large segment of the vital Val di Noto, the most important city in which was Siracusa, with a steady population of nearly 8,000 throughout the reign. Adding the other sites that made up the apanage, she ruled a population of some 20,000 individuals. Her camera was the site of two of the most important trade fairs - at Siracusa, beginning on the Feast of the Nativity of the Virgin, and at Lentini, at the Feast of the Ascension - and represented as well a significant venue for wine, grain, and salt exports. Siracusa itself, in fact, held a monopoly on all exports from the confines of the city northward through all the coastal territory of the Gulf of Augusta. So important had the city become as a trading center, especially for the eastern and southern trade routes connecting Sicily with Greece, Egypt, and Malta, that the Siracusan salma was made the standard measure for all agricultural produce in the eastern half of the kingdom. In 1299 the government awarded the city a toll franchise that freed its produce of the inland duties levied upon other domestic trade; the franchise was to be lost, however, if the land under the city’s control was alienated or enfeoffed. This resulted in a rather static social structure, since land seldom changed hands. In later years, when the queen wanted to reward anyone or felt the need to make additional grants in order to purchase loyalty, she circumnavigated the prohibition of alienating the land by granting instead various rights (pasturage, herbage, water access, etc.) over the land, but not the land itself. The general strength of the commercial economy, however, made Siracusa, and the entire camera, for that matter, an attractive site for the thousands who fled the decay and poverty of the Val di Mazara. It was the sole region in the kingdom that experienced an increase in its population, in absolute numbers, during Frederick’s reign.Eleanor held full powers of criminal and civil jurisdiction over the district, and, through her hired agents, administered an independent machinery of tax collection. Few records survive from her administration. But what evidence we have indicates that she took her responsibilities seriously, even though she did not always choose well in appointing her officials. A personal favorite whom she introduced at court in 1307 and to whom she entrusted some minor diplomatic errands, Pere Ferrandis de Vergua, proved to be a flatterer and opportunist, a corrupt official who wooed and wedded a series of wealthy widows and young heiresses. On Eleanor’s recommendation, the MRC appointed Pere Ferrandis royal tax collector for Caltavuturo, where his flagrant abuse of his position led to vehement popular protests and ultimately to his impeachment; and when Pere later was found to have forged a number of documents - most notably his first wife’s will, arranging a bequest of 2,000.00.00 to himself - he was banished from the realm. Ultimately, he conspired to murder Frederick, whom he blamed for his failure to win the position in society that he felt he deserved.Eleanor was intensely pious. From the day of her arrival in Sicily - she married Frederick as a stipulation in the Caltabellotta treaty - she threw her considerable energy into rebuilding thekingdom's shattered churches and monasteries, and to raising new houses, hospitals, and evangelical schools. She funded the construction of Castrogiovanni's duomo in 1307, according totradition, by selling the entire collection of her royal jewels. She generously endowed any number of religious houses, within her camera and without. In the area around Paterno, for example, shegranted lands, curial rights, and cash to the monastery of S. Maria di Licodia, in return for the monks' prayers on behalf of the royal family. The gift was prescient, in its way, since Frederick died inPaterno while en route to Castrogiovanni. Her advocacy for religious houses continued well after their founding and endowment. Especially in the case of nunneries, Eleanor remained involved in their daily lives by observing elections to abbacies, the recruitment of nuns, the regularity of their worship, and their treatment of relics. She visited nunneries throughout the realm, often with her children in tow, and regularly participated in their worship, showing an early preference for Franciscan houses.Above everything else, she seems to have considered it her fundamental responsibility to promote religious observance and moral reform. Although overt, specific evidence about her relationship with the evangelical movement is lacking, a number of clues survive that show her to have been an enthusiast for the Spirituals. We have seen already that she took seriously Arnau deVilanova's injunction that she and her handmaidens should perform public rituals in every duomo and hospital in every city they visited, dressed as personifications of Faith and Hope, "so that inthis way the people may have a vision [like that] of the Mother of God entering a place of misery to comfort those who are there." It was probably in such garb that she led the procession of the relics of St. Agatha around the confines of Catania, during the eruption of Mount Etna. She not only held vernacular readings of the Scriptures on Sundays and feast days, but she further commissioned a vernacular translation of the Dialogues of Gregory the Great, for the edification of the royal children, one of the few substantial texts in Sicilian dialect that survives from Frederick's reign. Even in a mundane duty like appointing a new bailiff to preside over her territory at Paterno her concern for the spiritual life of the community dominated all other considerations. When she appointed Ruggero Gala to be bailiff, in 1311, at the height of Sicily's flirtation with Arnau's prophesies of the kingdom's apocalyptic role, she specified that his first and foremost duty was "that he should take diligent care, if he should find anyone blaspheming against God, the Blessed Virgin, or the saints, or anyone speaking ill of the Royal Majesty, that he should take no sureties [i.e. promises to appear in court as summoned] from them, but should immediately seize their persons and take them captive to the justiciar of the province." Under Sicilian law, most accused criminals had the right to post bail and remain free until their trial; but the passionate atmosphere of the evangelical realm would permit no such freedom to those who were even rumored to be guilty of blasphemy. In lock-step with Arnau's teachings and the Ordinationes generates, the queen directed her bailiffs also to arrest anyone caught playing at dice or cards. But Eleanor, for as much as she helped to establish a general atmosphere of family concern and reformist piety, was merely one woman, and hardly representative of the majority.”

 Clifford R. Backman, The Decline and Fall of Medieval Sicily. Politics, religion, and economy in the reign of Frederick III, 1296-1337, p. 285-290.

[tabloidtoc]

Star, March 1

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Humiliated Jennifer Lopez used for money and fame by Alex Rodriguez

Page 1: Princess Eugenie and her husband Jack Brooksbank, who is a UK ambassador for George Clooney and Rande Gerber's tequila brand, welcomed a son on February 9 at London's Portland Hospital

Page 2: Contents, Robin Thicke in front of a piano at Gold Diggers studio in L.A.

Page 3: Star Shots -- Serena Williams honored late Olympic gold medalist Florence Griffith Joyner by rocking a one-legged Nike catsuit at the first day of the Australian open, Chrissy Metz brought some vibrancy to the virtual SCAD aTVFest where she discussed This Is Us and was honored with the Vanguard Award, Olivia Culpo checked out the view before heading to the Shaq Bowl in Tampa

Page 4: Inside Britney Spears' nightmare -- a shocking new documentary exposes how Britney was used and abused by people she trusted -- Britney's unable to communicate with fans directly without permission -- fans flooded Justin Timberlake's Instagram to demand an apology for what one called profiting from trashing a woman

Page 5: Facing a lawsuit from her estranged older sister has rattled Mariah Carey -- Alison Carey alleged to a NYC court that Mariah had intentionally inflicted emotional distress by writing about her in the 2020 tell-all The Meaning of Mariah Carey and Alison is seeking $1.25 million after the singer accused her of, among other things, throwing boiling hot tea on her and trying to sell a 12-year-old Mariah to a pimp -- now Mariah has become wary of even those in her inner circle and is making longtime employees re-interview for their jobs -- Mariah's always been on the paranoid side but everyone is a suspect now and she's grilling everyone from bodyguards to chefs to stylists and household staff who have been with her for years and if anyone pushes back they are shown the door -- her great fear is that people could cross over and spill secrets to the enemy because she's been caught off guard before by those she trusted

* Catching ZZZs has become a real problem for Kelly Clarkson -- between her gig as a daytime host, trying to sell homes in Nashville and Encino, and battling her ex Brandon Blackstock over custody of their two kids, she is beyond stressed and she can't sleep and nothing works; the most shut-eye she gets is two to three hours -- it's gotten so bad she's even tried hypnotherapy but her workaholic brain outwits it -- meanwhile her legal woes including a lawsuit with her husband and ex father-in-law's talent agency are getting nastier and Brandon has told her in no uncertain terms that he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants which is a ton of money and time with the kids

* She was the most loathed mother in America and now Casey Anthony wants her say -- 10 years after she was acquitted of murdering her two-year-old daughter Caylee, Casey is making a documentary about the trial and she thinks she can clear her name -- she's not looking for sympathy but she believes she's a victim too and was unfairly convicted in the public eye -- she is planning on dropping bombshells in the doc including her take on the theory that the toddler accidentally drowned in the family pool as well as shocking secrets about her own abusive upbringing but don't expect much remorse

Page 6: Just over a year after her father Kobe Bryant and sister Gianna Bryant perished in a tragic helicopter crash, Natalia Bryant who is Kobe's oldest daughter, has signed a modeling contract with IMG Models who also represent Bella Hadid and Gigi Hadid and the just signed Inauguration standout poet Amanda Gorman

* Rumer Willis was heartbroken when her months-long relationship with Armie Hammer fizzled out in December but after harrowing reports of Armie's alleged abuse of women including asking to barbecue their ribs and carry their severed toes in his pocket, Rumer is telling friends she feels lucky -- she wanted to defend him when the cannibalism stories first came out because she thought they were outrageous and now she feels badly for all of the victims and she's really grateful she didn't get caught up in the Armie nightmare

* Star Spots the Stars -- Eva Longoria, Mandy Moore, Demi Lovato, Dan Levy, Dorinda Medley

Page 8: Star Shots -- Meg Ryan wore some wide-legged trousers and a cute cap on a nature walk in Santa Barbara, Gavin Rossdale wore pink socks while playing tennis in L.A., Ciara holding six-month-old son Win during a family getaway to Hawaii

Page 9: Delilah Belle Hamlin and Love Island's Eyal Booker removed their masks for a quick street smooch during a coffee date in L.A., Sofia Richie enjoyed some PDA with shipping heir Gil Ofer in Miami

Page 12: Kate Upton doing yoga, Tia Mowry-Hardrict and her husband Cory Hardrict shared dishwashing duty after cooking at home, Robin Roberts tasted a treat on Good Morning America in New York City

Page 13: Pregnant Brittany Cartwright brought her dog along to retrieve the mail in L.A., Victoria Justice showed off her toned tummy post-workout in L.A.

Page 14: Goldie Hawn turned quality time with granddaughter Rani into a workout toting her in a backpack, Madonna and Guy Ritchie's son Rocco Ritchie waded in during a vacation in Tulum in Mexico, Lucy Hale on a stroll with her dog Elvis in L.A.

Page 16: Chris Noth put in a day's work on The Equalizer in Paterson in New Jersey, Flavor Flav and Flo Rida at The Super Glow Super Bowl kick-off party in Tampa, Bradley Cooper kept daughter Lea close as the two ran errands in NYC

Page 17: More than a week after celebrating 18 months of sobriety Lily Allen enjoyed a snack on-the-go in London, Jessica Alba lifted her son Hayes while riding scooters with husband Cash Warren in Beverly Hills

Page 18: Normal or Not? Cody Simpson got physical with new girlfriend Marloes Stevens during a romantic getaway in St. Barts -- normal, Selling Sunset's Christine Quinn picking up a portrait of herself in L.A. -- normal, Jack Black raised Thor's hammer in a parody posted on Instagram prompting Chris Hemsworth to call it the greatest thing he's ever seen -- not normal

Page 19: The Crown's Emma Corrin looked intrigued by a leafy object she stumbled upon during a stroll in London -- not normal, Sarah Jessica Parker kicked back in heels during a break from assisting shoppers at her flagship store in NYC -- not normal

Page 20: Fashion -- stars look sweet in tiered dresses -- Maude Apatow, Logan Browning, Margot Robbie

Page 21: Julianne Moore, Camila Morrone, Saoirse Ronan

Page 24: After months of quietly dating, Aaron Rodgers and Shailene Woodley are ready to marry and they announced it in the most low-key way possible and the couple are madly in love and feel unequivocally that this is the real deal -- Aaron and Shailene were friends long before sparks flew in August last year and having to endure a long-distance romance during football season actually made their bond stronger -- Aaron and Shailene are already planning to start a family and they're at that stage when they feel ready to be parents and are keen to have a baby

Page 25: Olivia Wilde and Harry Styles have found another dynamic duo to spend their downtime with which is Florence Pugh and Zach Braff -- the foursome hit it off on the set of Don't Worry, Darling which Olivia is directing and in which Florence and Harry star -- they have the best time together and know how to forget the world outside -- as it turns out bearing witness to Florence and Zach's happy relationship despite their 20-year age difference played a part in Olivia taking a chance on dating Harry who is nine years her junior following her split from Jason Sudeikis and seeing them together inspired Olivia to go for it with Harry and she's so glad she did

* While some couples are overwhelmed being with their kids 24/7 in lockdown, Prince William and Duchess Kate have enjoyed the extended family time with Prince George, Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis -- having the kids at home during the pandemic has given Kate baby fever and she loves being around them and wants to have one more and she and William are trying for another, with Kate saying she's hoping for a girl -- as for raising four young kids, the pair are up to the challenge because Kate's a pro at multitasking and William is a devoted dad and they'll split parenting duties

* Matt Damon is hoping a change of scenery will save his rocky 17-year relationship with wife Luciana Barroso as the couple and their three girls have set up house in a lavish $7000-a-night rental in Australia's tony Byron Bay while the actor films Thor: Love and Thunder -- the beachy new surroundings are just what the couple needs after hitting a rough patch and Matt is working overtime to make sure Luciana enjoys herself Down Under by arranging date nights and buying gifts for her to open every day and even when he's working he's got time set aside for just them and the gestures seem to be working and it's the shot in the arm they both needed

Page 26: Cover Story -- Jennifer Lopez humiliated and used -- shocking cheating allegations rock J.Lo's world as fiance Alex Rodriguez's mistress Madison LeCroy tells all -- while Jennifer is putting on a brave face the affair rumors are devastating to her whether she admits it or not -- after revealing she and Alex exchanged DMs Madison said she doesn't want anything bad for his family or for hers -- Alex says it was innocent and that nothing happened but Jennifer is not fully buying it -- Jennifer and Alex's relationship is personal but it's also business; together, their fortunes have doubled

Page 30: Chip and Joanna Gaines -- inside our farmhouse reno -- Chip and Jo are expanding and renovating their Waco home and it may be their toughest job yet

Page 32: Celeb Parenting Fails -- these celebrity moms and dads share their hilarious hapless moments -- Anne Hathaway, Brad Pitt

Page 33: Willie Geist, Mila Kunis, Pink

Page 48: Parting Shot -- Despite it being her first concert in over a year, Miley Cyrus was ready to rock while headlining the TikTok Tailgate Super Bowl pre-show event in Tampa -- the show treated 7500 Florida-based healthcare workers to a set that included guest appearances by Joan Jett and Billy Idol, who both collaborated on Miley's latest album

[applejuizz]

irrational goals x and x mindless illusions

after years of relentless searching, kaito has finally managed to find ging. as the two hunters pass the evening in the mountains, ging tells a story of his past. characters: ging freecss, kaito (kite) pairing(s): ging x gon’s momma (in the past!) no warnings word count: 1.880

pretty much my headcanons on what happened to gon’s mother.

“For all those years that I’ve known you, Ging-san, and I would’ve never guessed you have a kid.” Ging’s laughter, loud and brash bounced off the cave walls and scattered along with the howling winds. “And I thought you knew better than to make assumptions,” the hunter replied wittily, his large, amber stare glinting with amusement.

Kaito huffed out a short-lived smile and took a generous bite out of his freshly-roasted fish. He chose to let the crackling fire fill the silence as he masticated, carefully pondering over his next words.

“You’ve left one hell of a legacy behind, you know. He’s got your willpower and plenty of potential.” In response, Ging grunted through a mouthful of fish. “He’s good with animals as well. He’d make an excellent hunter.”

Kaito raised his gaze slightly to catch a reaction from across the vivid flames of the campfire. Maybe it had been just a product of the lights and shadows constantly dancing on Ging’s features, but he could’ve sworn that for a brief, insignificant moment, his master’s petrified expression had twitched. Now, whether it had been the ghost of a smile or a grimace, he couldn’t tell.

“Looks like my son did quite the impression on you,” remarked Ging, swallowing the last of his bite. “He is definitely something. I’m surprised how you were never curious enough to visit. Poor boy grew up thinking his parents were dead.” “Good.”

The sheer finality in the hunter’s tone made Kaito’s head instantly shoot up to stare incredulously. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, Kaito,” said Ging before his disciple could conceal his surprise, “hunters are greedy people. They seek adventure, despise routine and never settle. Bringing a kid into this world is a big and dangerous deal that we couldn’t bear.”

Then why did you do it in the first place? The question was entirely plausible, yet it died on Kaito’s tongue before he could voice it. It wasn’t his place to ask. Perhaps the boy was the result of an ordinary one night stand - that was quite often the case. Besides, he couldn’t imagine Ging lingering in one place long enough to fall in love and willingly father a child. Then again, he hadn’t thought it possible for the carefree adventurer to even be a parent at all, and he’d been proven wrong. In all truth, predicting Ging Freecss’s actions was a game of chance, similar to Kaito’s Crazy Slot, and the white-haired hunter wasn’t sure he liked that resemblance.

“Was his mother a hunter as well?” As he spoke, Kaito watched Ging’s posture stiffen, his usual relaxed attitude forgone. On second thought, it might’ve been more suitable to ask about his reasoning. “Who said anything about her? What did I tell you about assumptions?!” “You said ‘we’.” “What?!” “When you talked about bringing a kid into this world, you said ‘we couldn’t bear it’.” “As in you and me and every other fucking hunter in the world. Now stop nagging me.”

From the years he’d spent as his disciple, Kaito had learnt a lot about Ging as a hunter - extremely gifted, strategic, adventurous -, as well as a person - stubborn, unpredictable, carefree and at times, awkward. However, he had rarely, if ever got the chance to see a truly flustered, caught off-guard Ging. It took a lot to surprise him. Yet it seemed that the question Kaito had deemed innocuous had managed to utterly baffle the rogue hunter. He watched in awe as Ging’s features shifted through various phases of surprise, outrage and awkwardness, his foot nervously tapping the ground and his voice cracking with indignance. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” The only response Ging gave was a graceful, yet expressive burp. He deliberately avoided meeting Kaito’s eyes, busying himself with wiping clean of meat every little fishbone.

By the time he spoke again, the fire had considerably dimmed. “She is a hunter. Part of the association that helped me create Greed Island.” Kaito was leaning against a smoother portion of the wall, hands behind his head, eyes closed in contemplation. When his master spoke, he immediately turned to look at him. The black-haired man was staring pointedly at the dying fire, scattering the ashes with a stick in a halfhearted attempt of keeping it aflame. “Ging-san, you don’t have to talk about this if-“ “Just shut up and listen, ‘cause I’m not telling this story twice.”

Kaito settled back against the stone wall and listened.

“As I said, she was one of the creators of Greed Island, so we were both pretty young when we met- 18, I think. She was the friend of a friend, she heard of our project and she wanted in. We were fine with it, since she was a strong Nen user and her contribution has made the game what it is today.”

The cave entrance was growing darker by the minute as nightfall crept in. They would have to get some more firewood.

“While we were busting our asses off scouting the island and thinking up cards, we got to talkin’ and you could say we grew... close. She was pretty and as charming as they come, simple-minded, and always up for an adventure. And I was a bit of an impressionable kid.”

“We wanted to travel together. She was passionate about myths and languages, I liked ruins. A match made in heaven,” Ging chuckled bitterly. “Now, don’t get me wrong, ‘twas nothing official. We couldn’t be bothered to label anything. But one thing led to another, and all of a sudden we were a couple of dumb nineteen year-olds with a baby on the way.”

So, Gon was a mistake. Kaito had figured that much.

“Obviously, we had to push back our plans - we wanted to try and explore the Dark Continent eventually - and we had no idea how we were going to raise a kid together when we didn’t even know how to define our relationship, but we never thought about giving up Gon. Not once. Soon after we finished up the game, Daina gave birth. May 5th, 1987. Five months later, I was urging her to come with me on an unofficial, undocumented expedition near lake Mosubi.”

The sheer name of that place gave Kaito the shivers as he listened attentively to the other hunter’s story.

“She didn’t really want to go. Childbirth had changed her. She began to realize the risks we’d have to take, the high stakes, the danger that was awaiting and how inexperienced we really were. But I was having none of it. I thought I was invincible, and I thought I’d always get what I wanted.” There was a pause, and Ging cleared his throat almost awkwardly.

“So, I threatened to leave by myself. Woke up that morning and started packing. She got scared, like I knew she would; there was no way to stop me, so she eventually gave in.”

“You pretty much manipulated her into following you,” Kaito concluded. Ging continued to stare into the fire for a while before answering, and his disciple was almost sure he’d managed to piss him off again.

“Yeah. I guess you could say that,” he answered calmly. “Anyway, we left the baby in-game, summoned a Panda Maid to care for him and left. Long story short, something... beyond my understanding happened on that godforsaken shore and...”

“Did Daina...?”

“No! I mean... she disappeared. I have no idea what happened to her. I couldn’t look for her. It’s a miracle I even got away.”

Kaito let out a breath he hadn’t even known he were holding.

“And before you start to think I’m some delusional dumbass, the moment I got back, I went to Greed Island and summoned Double Postcard to the Dead. I’ve been doing it annually since then. No response so far.”

Ging needn’t explain more. Kaito knew Greed Island fairly well from the time he had attempted to clear the game, and therefore he had plenty of knowledge on the card system. Double Postcard to the Dead is a card which, if summoned, allows you to send a message to a deceased person of your choosing. If the person is truly dead, you’ll get a response within the next day.

“Anyway, after all that, I’d realized a couple of things.” Ging raised his pointer in the air. “First. I was going to need at least a decade of training, experience and qualifications to even pass lake Mosubi’s shoreline, and second,” he raised another finger, “I couldn’t raise Gon on my own. It was too dangerous to pursue my goals with him around, and he would’ve been better off living a normal life.”

“So you sent him off home.”

“And lost custody in court when Mito decided to sue me. The rest is history.”

There was silence as Kaito pondered over what he’d just heard. He supposed he could understand the reasoning behind Ging’s decision to leave Gon in someone else’s care, but he could’ve at least visited. Kaito was no king of morality, yet he couldn’t have lived with himself knowing he had a kid out there that knew nothing of him.

“I’m sorry.”

Ging’s eyes switched back to Kaito. He no longer looked lost in space as he made a dismissive hand gesture, very much characteristic of him.

“Don’t be. It was for the best. I would’ve been a crappy father either way.” There was humor in his tone and the white-haired hunter laughed cordially, but he could tell his companion’s words were more than just a joke.

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became. Ging had decided to utterly avoid his son not only for his safety, but also out of a selfish, yet understandable reason. He couldn’t have possibly bore the embarrassment of looking Gon in the eye and telling him his mother had gone missing simply because he had dragged her into his irrational goals and mindless illusions.

But you won’t be able to avoid him forever, Kaito thought to himself. If that boy is anything like you, he won’t drop dead until he finds you. I’ve seen the look in his eyes. You’re in for one hell of a ride, Ging.

“Yo.” He was awoken from his reverie by the hunter’s deep voice. “I’m gonna go get some more firewood. You coming or what?”

Kaito had barely noticed that the sky had gone completely dark and the cave was only lit by what little was left of the campfire. He could barely distinguish Ging’s features anymore as he stood at the entrance.

“Sure. I wasn’t expecting you to spend the night here though, Ging-san.”

As they walked along the abrupt forest path, wind howling at their ears, Ging scoffed. “You and your damn assumptions.” He grumbled and pointed at the sky. “No stars. Can’t you smell the thunder? It’s gonna rain tonight.” Kaito doubted a little storm would stop Ging from leaving if he really wished to do so, but he said nothing. “Oh, and drop the honorific.”

Kaito must’ve looked extremely surprised because Ging spoke again, a smirk creeping on his face.

“Don’t look at me like that. You found me, so you passed your test. We’re equals.”

[alistonjdrake]

Part Two: The Silent Partner

Sebastian an’Johannes Harver Born: Year 1729 after the fall of the Saints Parents: Royal Governor and Governess of Tadrus. Johannes an’Arturo Harver and Helena ana’Dídac Cabrel   Wife: Princess Sandra ana’Juliano Rios

There is a midwife in Tadrus who made a killing in the immediate years after the creation of the Escana Empire when she claimed she was the first to ever touch the emperor. She was also there when Lady Helena gave birth to Prince Sebastian. She said, “If I did not pull that babe from her with my own two hands I would never believe that they are mother and son.” 

Some have theorized that Prince Sebastian was likely a mistake or a very surprising child. There are numerous reasons. Lady Helena and Royal Governor Johannes did not have a close or affectionate marriage by any means. While they married by their own choice (and also much to the shock of their families) they never appeared or claimed to be in love. In fact, after Frederick, it was said the couple did not see each other for two years with Johannes living in a smaller house on the Pala Haviso property where he spent time working on a poetry collection he would never finish. 

So it was a wonder to many that Sebastian was born at all. No one was likely as surprised as Lady Helena who is often praised for her astute planning and foresight and her management of Frederick’s care and education, but she had no such plans for her younger son. 

Sebastian had a quiet childhood. He stayed in Tadrus. He had tutors, none more extravagant than the cousin of a Navanese duke, and he was by no means uneducated. Sebastian was a well learned child. He was something of a musical prodigy. Even Lady Helena delighted in his singing. He spoke well, he had friendly manners, and was a pleasant child if not a boring one. 

He spent a lot of time with his father and when Johannes’ health started to decline, he fashioned himself as one of his caretakers. Some would go on to say that even after some twenty years of marriage, Johannes still spent more time with Sebastian than he ever had with Lady Helena. 

They were both relatively quiet and meek in appearance and manners. They got on well. In 1742, Sebastian was only thirteen when his father died and he was absolutely crushed. 

As an adult and in the early years of the Harver reign, it’s easy to remember Prince Sebastian as King Frederick’s shadow, but when his older brother arrived from Oskya he was stunned by his strangeness. Sebastian would go on to write about his brother’s mustache, his odd companion, his funny accent, as well as his obsession with what he deemed “impractical” clothing. People always point out Frederick as the “Tadrune” one but that label is clearly more fitting for Sebastian. 

Sebastian was Tadrune through and through. Even during his life in Graza he would be a firm believer in the Tadrune dialect and preferred it over Graza’s formal Escan. He preferred traditional Escana and Tadrune attire over new court fashions his brother adopted, something he would wear occasionally throughout his adult life. Sebastian also preferred quieter hobbies as a contrast to his brother. He was briefly famous for his collection of books and would go on to be the blame for his nephew Prince Leonides’ obsession with reading illegal books.

But, in the beginning, it can be said King Frederick did not make many attempts to bond with him. They had been apart for too long, they hardly wrote to one another previously, and the Pala Haviso was large enough where they truly did not need to meet if they didn’t want to. As brothers they did not cultivate any such closeness until after King Juliano’s death in 1745 and Sebastian, now sixteen, was encouraged both by his mother and grandfather to join King Frederick’s campaign.

Lacking all of his older brother’s knowledge of the military and knowing even less of Oskyan customs, Sebastian mainly kept to himself. Although, he did find some time to bond with Vadik, of all people. They would come to form their own small alliance that would hold together for future dealings when they would later corner King Frederick to make decisions. 

King Frederick married Queen Isolde in 1748 and became King of Escan. That same day, there was another, often forgotten, wedding.  Briefly in his childhood, there are rumors that Sebastian had been engaged before. Or that at least there was some conversations about him and potential matches (one of which its rumored was between him and the eventual Queen Trella). 

But Sebastian was truly married at the age of nineteen to Princess Sandra ana’Juliano Rios, the often forgotten second daughter of King Juliano. As unhappy as the marriage between the older siblings were, this one was worse. Neither was thrilled. Princess Sandra had been hiding in an ally’s country house during the Siege of Graza and went missing on the road three times before she finally arrived in Graza for her wedding. Lady Helena had to sit Sebastian down and outline the importance of combining both families to him.

Perhaps one of the reasons Sebastian so easily jumped into life at court and took up a spot in helping King Frederick was as a way to avoid Princess Sandra, who spent their honeymoon alone in a Grazan townhouse while Sebastian helped with renovations of the palace and began research for what would become the groundwork of the propaganda that would strengthen King Frederick’s claim. 

Another difference between the two brothers, is that Sebastian was very comforted by his work. Ever the avid reader, it actually delighted him to pour over bills and old Escana law. Besides that, and the one most people find interesting, is that Sebastian all but cut Princess Sandra loose. By the time Queen Isolde’s first pregnancy was announced, he urged his mother to loosen the watch on his wife. Princess Sandra would be gone from Graza by the next day.

As a couple, they barely saw each other and Sebastian was never known to take on a lover. King Frederick would become famous for having countless ones, and while there would be times where Sebastian would be criticized for coming too close to his one of his sisters-in-law, no one has ever produced solid proof that he was an unfaithful husband (or an awful brother). 

In all things, Sebastian more or less tried to keep the peace. He would do his best to calm Lady Helena’s tempers, courtiers would tell jokes about how much time he spent cleaning up scandals and plucking nasty rumors by their roots, he was also dubbed the “handler”. Through him, his brother would often select his paramours. It would be Sebastian who would go to the lucky person’s residence and tell them they caught the king’s eye, or be the one to send a letter or gift, or be the one who had to have the paramour removed from the palace. Sebastian also took on the job of handling a lot of King Frederick’s personal accounts and affairs, a job he would eventually give to Prince Leonides (along with other tasks). 

The family truly played up the differences between them. As capable of an adviser as Sebastian proved to be, it was important that he was also pointed out as the weaker brother just as much as they spread sentiment that Princess Sandra was frivolous and uncaring, a stranger in Graza. She was still the surviving Rios and to quell any whispers that that she took King Frederick’s place as King Juliano’s heir, they were set up as an entirely unfit royal couple. 

Sebastian was the one who arranged the funeral for Lady Helena when she died in 1756 despite the fact that they were never close. But he was often charged with arranging all the funerals in the family up until that point (he’d even helped plan Johannes’ funeral back in 1742 as Arturo could not immediately leave Graza at the time and Lady Helena simply did not want to.) His responsibility of funeral handling does extend to his brother’s queens as well. 

In place of having children of his own, Sebastian did try to be a good uncle. He was close to Prince Leonides because of how closely they worked together, but he did attempt to have relationships with all of his nephews (and his single niece). As Prince Leonides got older and his talent for politics became apparent, Sebastian began to take more and more steps back. Eventually, he would take an early retirement and do the thing King Frederick got to do that he never did. 

Sebastian traveled. As a boy raised in Tadrus and then as someone who spent much of his adulthood in Graza, he was fascinated by the sea. He purchased his own ship and would spent many months out of the year sailing warm waters and relaxing on neighboring islands, returning to Graza with gifts for the family.

Much like himself, in 1759, he and Princess Sandra had a shocking child. After eleven years of marriage, much of it spent apart, Princess Sandra gave birth to their only child. 

The timing is not extremely strange as in 1759, Sebastian and Princess Sandra had both a funeral and a wedding to attend (the death of Queen Filipa and the subsequent marriage to Queen Brandye. It was customary for them to appear before the court as a couple for special occasions. Sebastian was quoted to having saying he didn’t ask for much but Princess Sandra must not embarrass him by not attending.) and they did share apartments in Graza Palace. And perhaps eleven years had truly passed, people very rarely mentioned Queen Isolde or the bad blood that had existed between Harver and Rios in those days.

Although, once Princess Damaris was born, the couple was again separated. Princess Sandra went back to her country homes and lesser noble friends, and Sebastian traveled less frequently but that’s not to say he didn’t continue to leave. 

While it can be said that neither were very attentive parents, Sebastian did try to make up for what he lacked. He found it much easier to be an uncle, as he had no reason to see his nephews before they were old enough to leave the royal nursery, but Princess Damaris’ care and education was all up to him once Princess Sandra was gone. On his own side, Sebastian did feel close to his daughter although he was very open about how little they understood one another or had anything in common. He was his daughter’s loudest supporter on her path to knighthood and when he was in Graza, they did spend plenty of time alone together almost as if they were outcasts in the Escana court. 

Despite his retirement, Sebastian still handled much of King Frederick’s personal business. He was blamed for covering up Queen Luca’s assaults on paramours who were related to important figures, as well as accused for hiding Queen Luca when she was still a mistress during her pregnancy. When some people were brought to trial for Queen Luca’s assassination, Sebastian was also questioned (not under suspicion of involvement but for what he knew about potential suspects). Sebastian has also come under fire for not being wholly truthful about the personal Harver accounts and their assets, some believe he’s hidden several properties King Frederick purchased either to hide paramours or to have his family escape to in the case of a rebellion. He’s been accused of keeping a list of illegitimate children who are scattered across the continent for his brother, brushing illegal dealings under the rug, and even letting enemies of the state cross their borders. 

For as faithful of a partner as he was to King Frederick, he very rarely confided in anyone himself. In Sebastian’s adult life, he found no friend as close to him as he’d been to his father as a child and was very secretive. 

While traveling, he contracted a disease and died in 1779. After his funeral, Princess Sandra announced she would not be coming back to Graza and has not been seen in court since. 

[bocceclub]

📖 motherhood

📖 worms

I don’t have anything for worms (yet), but hoo boy for “motherhood” here’s one of my all-time favorite passages from Bitter Days:

Ithena’s quarters were just as austere as I remembered them: bare whitewashed walls, and a rug of woven rushes covering the stone floor, the only furniture her plain cot bed, a lit clay lamp on its tall stand, and a cedar chest with a round mirror of polished bronze hung above it. Two stools stood around a small table in the center of the room; she lighted on one like a falcon returning to its handler’s glove.

“Sit with me,” she said, gesturing to the other stool. I shook my head and remained standing, hands clasped behind my back in a soldier’s posture, despite how weak my knees felt. I was tired. Too tired to partake in her mind games.

“Sit,” she repeated, more forcefully, “so that I can have a proper look at you. Indulge the mother who has not seen her only child in nearly four years.”

I pressed my lips together but took a seat. She reached over the table and grasped my chin with a hand whose slenderness belied its vicelike strength, turning my face from one side to the other. Under her shrewd gaze I felt like a prize horse being sized up by a potential buyer. Let me get a look in his mouth; how are his teeth? I tried to imagine how I looked through her eyes—a prince disguised by stubble and sun-darkened skin and hair pulled back in a soldier’s topknot, face drawn and dusty from the long road, a son whose four years away from her had made him a stranger.

After what felt an eternity, she dropped her hand, something akin to sadness softening her stern face. I noticed for the first time the fine lines that had appeared around her eyes during my absence, and the hints of gray just beginning to show at her temples.

“You’ve grown to look so very much like your father,” she murmured.

I dropped my eyes, unable to respond. How did it feel to see your dead lover staring back at you from the face of your own child? And how was I to live with this knowledge, going through each day aware that the ghost of my father lingered on in my flesh and bones?

“Tell me, have you grown tired of playing the soldier yet?”

“No.”

“Gods, so you’ve inherited his obstinacy as well.” She pressed her knuckles against the lines of her cheekbones, as if to dispel a toothache.

After a moment she straightened in her seat, smoothing the grimace from her face, and reached forward to pour a cup of wine from the jug on the table and offer it to me wordlessly. I took it, and drained the cup in one draught, wishing the dark liquid could wash away the fear and pain and muted horror of the last few days as easily as it washed down my throat.

“If you had taken time to savor that,” Ithena said drily, “perhaps you would have noticed that it’s made from grapes instead of apples, unlike the usual islander swill.”

The flush I could feel creeping over my face was not just the fault of the wine-warmth blossoming in the pit of my stomach. “Imported?”

“From the Fruit Valley of Eshtar, yes. With piracy a growing problem in the strait, decent wine is an ever-scarcening luxury. As are any other Mysskaean goods.”

“Considering what I rode all this way to tell you of, I hardly think lack of grape-wine should be your and your court’s greatest concern right now.”

Ithena sighed, her long black lashes fluttering in irritation, and propped one hand under her chin. “Ithelrel—”

“My name is Tomrin,” I said without looking up, rolling the wine cup between my hands. With my thumbnail I traced the lines etched into the glazed pottery.

She snorted. “You may choose to go by a commoner’s name, and half-swallow your words when you speak, and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand after drinking, but nothing you can do will negate your royal blood.”

The heat in my cheeks continued to rise. My eyes wandered the room of their own volition, as if seeking an escape from her relentless gaze, and lighted on a bare patch on the wall above the bed. A shudder ran through me. That space hadn’t been empty the last time I had been in this room, nearly four years ago.

The tapestry. She’d taken down my father’s tapestry, the one of the raven with its great wings spread, beak open in mid-cry, that his mother’s mother had woven and given the two of them on their wedding day. The tapestry I’d spent my childhood staring at in wonder, drinking in its tessellating patterns of blood-red and rich yellow and deepest indigo as my father told me the Thaish story of Ko the trickster, half-man and half-god, who’d been trapped in the form of a raven as punishment for stealing fire from the gods to give as a gift to humankind.

Hot anger roiled in my chest as I turned to meet my mother’s eyes. “You say this, and yet you have no problem denying my islander blood.”

“It is because I must,” she said in a hard voice. “Do you know how the Nimenai resent your very existence, how much they loathe the thought of a half-Thaish sitting on their throne? I raised you with your own good in mind, trying to shape you into as much a full-blooded Yianlai as I could. Letting you embrace your father’s people would have armed my family with too many ways to tear you apart.”

Despite my resolve I could not help but flinch in the face of her cruel honesty, the careless evocation of my father’s ghost putting a bitter taste on my tongue. She must have seen how sore a blow she had landed, for the severe line of her brow smoothed, and she reached her hand out to mine across the table. I didn’t move it away, but neither did I respond to the pressure of her fingers curling around mine. I simply sat, a dead weight in my stomach as I fought to keep my face a mask, fought to keep anything she might use against me from crossing it.

“Everything I did was to protect you,” I dimly heard her say. “I know you think me cold, unloving, but I had to become so to keep you safe. To be both Kair and mother to a halfblood is a difficult line to tread."

I regained enough control to retort between bared teeth, “Try being the halfblood.”

She withdrew her hand as if I had stung it.

[fireember345]

Like Fire Prompt

An Avatar the Last Airbender Prompt

Do not own Avatar

Inspired by the fanfic Zuko is the Fandom Bicycle: Everybody Gets a Ride by Alabaster68 on fanfiction.net and it is a lot less dirty than the title suggested

 After shadow and smoke

Everyone that works in the palace are eager to please Zuko as the maids try to secretly woo him over

Ty Lee also has a crush on Zuko but she doesn’t get any closer because Mai is her friend, though Mai says that she’s fine with her asking her ex-boyfriend out, though it did bother her deep down

Zuko thought it was the lingering fear his father and sister left behind but Ursa and Iroh knew that it was something else and that Zuko is too oblivious and innocent to know why the people acted so chummy around him

When Kiyi asked her mother why people were acting this way around her brother, Ursa points out that Zuko is a beautiful person, both inside and outside and people can’t resist that

Noren tells her that is was due to having such a beautiful mother and tells her to be careful around boys because they are like wild animals

Zuko receives constant gifts and letters from people all over the world, he has people sort through them and see if the gifts due to him being busy with work

With help from the Dai Li, Long Feng escaped and decided to target Firelord Zuko

Long Feng met Zuko when one of his Joo Dee caused all of them to stare at Zuko with longing and Long Feng wanted to know why or how he undid Feng’s brainwashing

After meeting Zuko in the teashop, he planned to take Zuko, ‘condition’ him, have him acting as his assistant and companion before the Gaang were causing him trouble and was unable to due to his imprisonment once more

Since Zuko was so loved, powerful, determined, influential, a ruler to the powerful Fire Nation and close friends with Aang

Long Feng planned to capture Zuko, brainwash him, become his advisor, have Zuko kill the avatar and the Earth King, begin his war with the Earth Kingdom and take over Ba Sing Se

The Dai Li arrived at the palace with a giant fluffy Bear Plushy of Bosco for Zuko as the Firebending guards snickered that the Earth King wanted Zuko as well, feeling somewhat jealous

The Dai Li made sure the Plushy was in Zuko’s bedroom, though Zuko was surprised by it, he was too tired to be bothered with it

Long Feng was inside the giant plushy, which was really a costume as he waited until the Firelord was deep asleep and used a smoked herb to render Zuko unconscious

Zuko tried to fight Long Feng and the effects of the plant, but eventually fainted

Long Feng placed Zuko into the costume and wearing a Fire Nation warrior uniform and left with the Fire Lord

During his capture, every time Long Feng tried to woo him in a creepy manner or touch him, Zuko would raise his body temp to give Long Feng third degree burns

The Gaang began their mission of searching for Zuko and learned that Long Feng escaped and from his cell, learned of his obsession with control and Lee, which the Gaang realize Lee being Zuko

While the Fire Nation blamed the Earth Nation for the kidnapping of their Fire Lord, the Gaang set out to find Long Feng, knowing he has Zuko

They got his trail when members of the Dai Li were taking their brainwash equipment to Whaletail Island

Long Feng had Zuko’s Mouth, arms and legs Earthbend together to prevent him from firebending

The Gaang followed the Dai Lee to Long Feng as the had a massive battle with him

But after defeating him, the Dai Lee and Zuko were gone, only small blue flames were found, meaning Azula took him

Azula led the Dai Lee once more as she was planning to use the equipment to make Zuko just like their father and herself

While the Gaang tracks down Azula, Zuko was eventually rescued by a rogue Dai Lee who had been carrying him and tending to his need since his capture

Refusing to lose to the Gaang, she destroyed the room that Zuko was in

Though the Gaang at first thought Zuko was dead and they started to grief for him, Zuko appeared on a hot air balloon with the Dai Lee that rescued him and agreed to make the Dai Lee his personal bodyguard which was thrilled to do, even though that he wouldn’t be able to court the Firelord since he didn’t see him in a romantic way

[chsamuseum]

The Mystery of the Aussie

Investigating family history can be a time-eater. When the shelter-in-place order came down this spring, with it came a rare gift of time for me to write about my family history book experience. Just one faded black and white photo of an uncle launched my search.

“Left poor. Went to Australia. Married a White lady. Returned rich,” claimed my Mother-in-Law. I thought to myself, “Could her uncle really have left their farming village and done all that?!”

Years later my curiosity fueled a search for more of his story and clues that might lead to his descendants. How could her uncle have really traveled across Asian seas to a distant continent more than 4,000 nautical miles south of China? It was the late 1800s. Why would he leave? Did he really get rich or did Nai Nai’s childhood memory imagine it? She’s no longer here to ask. How could I find out?

Facts about this uncle were scarce. He was born in 1870. Few people were left who knew of him. A cousin gave me an email address to his cousin in Australia. That started my journey.

After occasional correspondence, asking every relative if they knew anything about him and meeting new cousins in Australia, Hong Kong, and China, I at last collected enough material for a backstory.  I studied Chinese-Australian migration. I discovered robust online resources like the National Archives of Australia and the Queensland State Archives. I joined a genealogy writing group who gave me honest feedback on my drafts. Worldwide cousins shared a few memories and photos. Each revelation was a gift. I was excited to be able to tell my family the story of a distinguished forebear.

As I worked towards a final manuscript, I investigated printing, publishing, and promoting. A six year seat-of-the-pants journey. Along the way I learned about copyrights, ISBNs, and crafting engaging book pitches to libraries and museums.

Cover of The Mystery Aussie, Pamela’s book chronicling Jan See Chin’s life.

As it turned out, Granduncle Jan See Chin’s life path really was astonishing. At the turn of the 20th Century, Jan See Chin transformed himself from an unassuming young man to a sugar cane plantation magnate. He forged a legacy of influential projects in both his adopted country of Australia as well as his own Shekki village in Kwangtung.

Times were tough. In desperation Jan See Chin’s father sent his son abroad at the of age 15 to find work and remit money home to the family. 

Traveling alone on a three week voyage from Hong Kong through the South China and Coral seas, he arrived in Brisbane, the capital of Queensland, at that time a Crown Colony of the British Empire. Thousands of other Chinese laborers also sought work in Australia, often scraping by in the few arduous jobs open to Chinese such as sheep herder, garden worker or laborer on the sugar cane plantations.

Living frugally, Jan See Chin sent money home but also saved to buy a small plot of land on which to grow vegetables. Along the way he met Pang Yung, a businessman from his village, who had a store in the town of Cairns in the far north part of Queensland. Pang Yung and his white British wife had two daughters. One of those daughters was named Maud. Maud and See Chin married in 1902. Their marriage partnership would thrive for 26 years as they raised 13 children.

Living economically and saving enough to purchase modest plots of farmland at discounted Crown Land Sales, See Chin and Maud gradually expanded their holdings to an incredible 3,000 acres of sugar cane plantation land. By 1915, See Chin was recognized as Australia’s biggest individual grower of cane in tropical far North Queensland.

Picture of Maud See Chin, 1915

For the next 15 years, Jan See Chin and Queensland’s other Chinese cane plantation owners struggled to keep their robust cane businesses afloat amid a flood of nationalism rising up in the newly federated commonwealth of Australia. Powerful, virulent voices stoked fear of people who looked different than the ruling British citizenry. The government adopted no less than 15 official acts to intentionally disadvantage Chinese plantation owners and drive them away. The Acts penalized only the Chinese, imposing fines, withholding sugar bounties, and prohibiting them from hiring any non-White labor.

One Act, the Immigration Restriction Act 1901, prohibited entry of Chinese and colored immigrants and mandated immediate deportation of Pacific Islanders who were already working on the cane plantations of the Chinese growers. This became known as the White Australia policy. Chinese seeking to enter Australia were required to take an English dictation test of a 50-word paragraph. Failure led to immediate deportation. 

The obstacles became so egregious that the Chinese plantation owners left. Jan See Chin was one of the last two Chinese growers who held out. But eventually, he, too, conceded that the environment in Australia was too hostile to continue to do business. He sold his acreage, packed up his household and growing family of eight and sailed to Hong Kong. 

Intending to set up a temporary home base for his family, See Chin acquired a spacious flat in Hong Kong and enrolled his children in private, Anglican schools. Then he turned his attention to his home village of Ho Tau in the Kwangtung Province to build a family mansion.

Once in Ho Tau, See Chin noticed that the villagers lacked conveniences he had become accustomed to in Australia. Motivated to help the village modernize, he recruited other overseas Chinese to form a community development club. The club set about to build an electric company, rice-hulling mill, weaving factory, as well as a system of plumbing to bring water to the village.

Most of Shekki County lacked an effective way to transport local goods between the village and other parts of the province, let alone with the international port of Macau. See Chin’s solution was to plan and finance the first paved road in the entire province of Kwangtung. 

He co-founded the Kee Kwan Road Construction Co., Ltd. which inaugurated the first phase of the 30-mile highway in 1928 to great fanfare. The celebration attracted luminaries as well as tens of thousands of onlookers. The presence of this seminal road and the busses and trucks purchased for it catapulted the Shekki District into the commercial powerhouse it remains today.

But all did not go smoothly. During the 1920s & 30s, rampant banditry pervaded southern China, often targeting wealthy families. One bandit gang kidnapped his 16-year-old son, tethering him to a post for over three months while demanding a ransom of 15,000 pounds (equivalent to over $1 million today). See Chin negotiated a reduced ransom of 2,000 pounds and the traumatized young man was eventually released.

Villagers motivated to improve their farms or start a small business lacked the means to borrow money. See Chin established banks in the village, Shekki, and Hong Kong. But two Canadian bankers embezzled funds and poisoned See Chin to cover up the crime. Jan See Chin died at the age of 59. His wife, Maud See Chin, had just birthed their 13th child and would spend the next few years pursuing justice for her husband’s murder, a fight that went all the way to the highest court in the land called the Privy Council.

----

The Mystery Aussie: Jan See Chin is a self-published biography about a granduncle who left China as a humble farmer boy and made a fortune in Australia amid exclusion and bigotry in the time of the White Australia policy.  Author Pamela Lee Wong portrays Chinese immigrant experiences against the backdrop of historical events. Passionate about preserving oral stories about experiences of the elders, she writes with future generations in mind to help them understand that they stand on the shoulders of their predecessors.

 You can learn more about her work and the full story of Jan See Chin by contacting her at pam.wong22@yahoo.com.

[ironforgedrp]

♛   VICKON II GREYJOY

↳ details; 32 (b. 473AC), male ↳ status; bisexual, widowed, no children ↳ faceclaim; ricky whittle ↳ hails from; pyke, the iron isles ↳ loyalty; house greyjoy, the iron throne.

↳ title; lord reaper of pyke, ruling lord of the iron isles ↳ religion; the drowned god ↳ spoken languages; common tongue ↳ reason for being in sunspear; the summit

♛   PERSONALITY

↳ type; executive ESTJ-A ↳ alignment; chaotic neutral ↳ star sign; scorpio ↳ positives; resilient, self-sufficient, versatile, cautiously open minded, loyal, tenacious, devout ↳ negatives; wounded, romantically-emotionally stunted, tentatively paranoid, can overly ambitious and also stern

♛  BIOGRAPHY

↳ family lineage.

his father, balon greyjoy had married his mother when they were barely into man and womanhood. her name was uthora goodbrother and was the middle-born daughter of house goodbrother, with dark auburn hair and sharp hazel eyes she had caught the heir of pyke’s attention during a celebration her house attended at his home. after a short courting period, and the elated enthusiasm from balon’s own father at the match, they wed when the young lady uthora was seventeen. sweethearts didn’t really describe their relationship, as there was nothing sweet about it: it was fire and passion and adventure, adrenalin hunting, risk taking and enjoying their youth as any ironborn would. of course that did slow down when, after two years they found themselves expecting their first child together. it would go on to be a boy, who uthora insisted on naming vickon after the first elected lord to ever rule the iron isles. such a name would come with a burden of expectations, but both balon and uthora intended on fostering a fierce child in their heir, and any children to come.

there was another child after the dark haired, brown-eyed vickon was born. a few years later, a girl would join the growing family, bringing the song of children’s laugher and riot into the salty walls of pyke. trained hard from their childhood, both the two children of balon and uthora spent half their time on land and the other half either on or in the sea. balon inserted lessons in military strategy and captainship, insisting his heirs work every position on the decks of a ship from deckhand to helmsman to pot wash. uthora also took it upon herself to raise her daughter as she had been raised; strong, smart, wise and a capable ironborn. they had no imminent plans for more children right away, as they were still young parents and that might have been the reason why the sudden passing of uthora was so hard on balon and the two children. she had, unexpectedly, found herself with child far too quickly for both hers and balon’s liking. they wanted to ensure they could raise vickon and his sister right, they could handle the iron islands like the true rulers they needed to be and after a long discussing and many tears they summoned a maester and a moon tea was brewed. though she was only weeks into her third pregnancy, and there was no reason to expect any problems, over the night that came the lady uthora succumbed to complications that young vickon never learned of and she never saw the sunlight or smelled the sea again. mourning was hard, seeing his younger sister cry and beg the drowned god for their mama to come back, it broke vickons heart. in fact, for months afterwards, his little sister would climb into bed with him in a state of quiet sorrow.

when his father remarried a dornish woman, vickon found himself in a strange situation. he wanted his father to be happy, and he seemed to be, but he resented any woman who would wear his late mother’s title of ruling lady of house greyjoy.   old enough to remember his mothers laughter, the shine of her hair, the kindness of her eyes… vickon knew he would never warm to the lady myria, but he promised he would never allow his personal feelings to hurt his fathers happiness. it seemed too soon that children, his half siblings, began to join their family and vickon felt all the more out of place. he was older, and he could not bond in a paternal way with her. if anything, he viewed lady myria greyjoy as not his new mother but as his over-lady and he respected her for that reason. she also seemed to bring lightness back to his fathers heart so he could not bring himself to make waves within pyke. instead of bonding with the new blended family he pushed himself out to sea on the iron fleet.

young and eager and harder than the rock of the iron isles, vickon was deemed a quiet fire; jokes and jests were made about his similarity to his namesake who was apparently stern-faced as well. he found himself in plenty of fights, plenty of games of dice and card and chance, and he worked until his hands were hard with callouses and his clothes were crusty with dried seasalt. vickon, he soon realized, was born for hard work and challenge which continued to please his father greatly as his son stayed on track to be a captain in the iron isles’ fleet. a few years on vickon was to choose a bride, and he deferred to his father over a private meal and ale about who this should be. they scrutinised over the eligible ladies of the iron isles, and who would be the most ideal partner and lady reaper of pyke when vickon would inherit the seat, for he would marry no one else than an ironborn woman. vickon often thought that he was arguably one of the most devout followers of the drowned god of all his siblings, he prayed often and fervently. thanking the drowned god for the good, praying for bad to end quickly, praying that his lady mother was enjoying her seat in the drowned gods watery halls, approving of her only sons achievements. settling on house kenning of harlaw isle, with the blazon of the storm god (the drowned gods enemy of over a thousand thousand years), was an unlikely choice in the eyes of many. however, the lady naoka kenning caught his eye quickly and soon conversation revealed how similar they were. she matched him in intelligence, in quick wit and jokes, in the cracking of her tongue like a whip when she commanded her accompanying house kenning guardsmen to stop making drunken fools of themselves. born less than a year apart in age, now capable captain and heir to pyke, lord vickon ii greyjoy and lady naoka of house kenning were married in the year 492AC.

as a wedding gift, balon and lady myria gifted vickon and his new bride the galleon ship the storms howl, one that had pride of place in the iron fleets arrangement. though vickon had spent most of his time upon the iron fleets’ principle ship, a man-o-war vessel sea death, the storms howl served as a temporary home as the newlyweds spent their time on the seas, travelling with a youthful hunger. the early years were good, and would have continued to be fruitful if not for a freak, sudden accident that stole another woman from the vickons heart. down the gangway of the storms howl, they had returned from visiting naoka’s family upon harlaw isle, they and their crew were enjoying the end of their voyage. no one properly saw how she lost her footing, but a small yelp of surprise followed by a body-loud thump and vickon shoved his way through the crew members to find his young wife lifeless and limp with no breath in her body. there was no blood and no pain when she slipped on the salty, slicked wood of the pier… but she was gone from the world, from his world, in the blink of an eye. widowed far too young, damaged and angry at innocent losses of his personal life, he pushed himself instead into the career of a captain with eyes on a prize beyond the iron isles. the drowned god had set vickon adrift alone in turbulent seas, but he was determined to not flounder or sink as he reached out to the red keep of the crownlands, to the office of the heir to the iron throne, prince baelor targaryen.

over the space of a year the two corresponded formally as vickon expressed his desire to represent house targaryen as the master of ships on prince baelor’s council when he would assume the throne in the years to come, and they settled on an agreement. lord vickon would sail to the red keep and meet with the prince face to face, present his reasoning why he was the superior choice for a master of ships. of course vickon knew that there was no other who could rival the ferocity of the iron fleet, and his ability to captain galleons, sloops, man-o-wars and all in between gave him a versatility hard to rival. the meeting went well, and after discovering much in common and enjoying some healthy debates about their respective gods and beliefs and personal opinions, they  found a mutual respect and a budding friendship that continued on when he returned to the seas and back to the iron isles. he had spent much time then on assignments from his father, on training up his crew and exploring, escaping his grief as best he could. at his fathers request he took on his half-siblings into his crew, where there were no free passes nor easy ways out for the children of the lord reaper and he commanded them as he did the rest of his crew.

vickon never did re-marry; instead taking the occasional salt wife or lover. he knew he had a position on the small council of westeros in his near future, alongside a man he was proud to call friend and future king and he would pass his seat to a sibling as castellan if their father would pass in that time, he had a plan with which he had spent much time working over. though it was not his father who passed in the years that came —  in the sept of ashar where the sept of baelor once stood, a strange irony upon them all as they bid their final farewells to the king who never was, baelor the third, who had suddenly been pulled from the world to join the halls of the drowned god. of course vickon knew that baelor was a follower of the seven, as most of westeros did, but vickon liked to imagine him alongside the mighty drowned god and the finest warriors and members of the world alongside him, perhaps his friend may meet lady uthora greyjoy. the sadness was felt across the lands, but none more-so than it that sept of the seven where the closest of the prince gathered privately and grieved in the painful, sorrowful echoes of the barely filled sept. he lingered in kings landing for a time alongside king maegor and princess rhaena: baelor had often spoken of his sister in letters, and part of him felt compelled to ensure that his friends kin was going to endure, however painful. no one seemed to understand what had happened to baelor or how his last moments were spent… but it appeared clear that it was not pleasant. it was on his return home, his future plans gone with his friends final breath, that his paths crossed with a woman who would change his life for the first time in many years.

protecting those weaker than him was something vickon felt to his core and thus began their relationship.  a lost soul saved by the drowned god and delivered to safety on the decks of the storms howl by pure chance and misfortune, though stripped of her apparent memories she seemed filled with the will to live and that spurred him to action. she would go on to thrive, recovering from whatever had befallen her, and he would go on to tentatively open his heart as much as he was able to as he returned with his new salt wife to the shores of his home. within the year however, his father succumbed to the afterlife and the title, the salt throne was passed to vickon ii, lord reaper of pyke. beginning his rule not years removed from his friends death and the change in leadership, the new heir of westeros becoming baelor’s younger sister and the certainty of him having a position on the council now in question, he decided it best to stay as ruler of his lands rather than leave the ironborn without their true leader. he already knew he was content in being loyal to house targaryen: the members of the red keep had all treated him well, they were all sound and intelligent of mind, with admirable and well thought-out policies and plans for the world. far removed from the red keep, with no interest in taking over the throne, he didn’t keep closely informed on the process that king maegor had organized for his only remaining child to find a suitor and when the raven arrived from kings landing penned in a scrawl it seemed from baelors younger sister who warned him that something had gone terribly wrong and the targaryen reign would be coming to an sharp end. never in his wildest dreams did he imagine what was to come: the first lannister reign in over two centuries and baelors little sister, the fierce little dragon prince rhaena had been (it appeared to vickon) forced to surrender her title to the son of lord tristifer lannnister.

vickon knew very little of the lannister children: there were two sons and one was a tenacious land commander, but that was all he knew. his late father, however, had never spoken a kind word about the grey lion of the west. he often spoke ill of any other house, degrading all other gods, cultures, mocking the ironborn and once coming to physical blows in their past. balon had hated lord tristifer lannister, and vickon was immediately suspicious and enraged at the concept that the son of such a true cunt could have stolen or bullied the throne into his own hands. however, after hearing some positive things about the new lannister king and after meeting him at the wedding of the lannister and princess rhaena he found himself less wary. not fully in support, but not in direct fear. it seemed the son of tristifer, arryk was his name, did not take after his father in the traits balon had condemned and disparaged. vickon also hoped that rhaena would reach out to house greyjoy for an ally or support if the new king revealed himself a tyrant.

returning to pyke and correspond from a distance, vickon sent his sister to represent house greyjoy at the celebration of the young prince’s birth and focussed on advancing and perfecting the iron fleet and quashing any whispers of rebellion within his waters. still flanked, oddly happily, by the woman he had rescued nearly three years prior, vickon was only moved to leave pyke with the political summit on the horizon after the schism fractured the kingdom, watching pyke shrink in the horison he knew it was time to reveal himself in the public eye as the lord reaper of the iron isles and make the true ferocity and power of the ironborn voice heard.

↳ personality.

he was already stunted by the loss of his mother at such a young age, and the secondhand experience of his sisters sadness as well. he shouldn’t have but he did carry that in his heart and this was increased when naoka suddenly died. vickons faith has always kept him strong in ways he doesn’t understand, but he takes great comfort in knowing that the drowned god would have welcomed his mother, his young wife, his father and friend into his watery halls and given them the life that was stolen. taking a salt wife has allowed him in recent years to soften himself, but his guarded heart has long been a part of him that he will not erase again. vickon is, despite his slight detachment from his half siblings and really any reminder of his lost mother, ultimately a protector and this bond is only extended to people who have truly earned it.

↳ the splitting of the kingdoms.

honestly the schism somewhat caught him by surprise, due to the amount of kingdoms who decided to revolt individually instead of collectively. he thinks some have just reason to be in such a rage, but some he thinks are acting like irrational fools begging to be quashed.

♛  STATUS; TAKEN

[plutoandpolaris]

Fantasy AU Character List

Because the AU has grown so much since my first post about it and almost everything has changed, here’s a new description of all of the characters and a little bit of updated backstory!

Egos:

Anti: A young demigod prince turned King after murdering his family and usurping the throne. He hopes to wrench himself out from under the thumb of his deific mother and take control of his own life again, whilst coming up with a way to get rid of her for good. However, getting involved with the gods never ends well for anyone, and the strain is starting to wear him down little by little.

Jackie: A human mercenary, raised as a miller but turned to a life of adventure and danger to escape the drudgery of his old life. After his mother receives a letter from her sister-a servant in Anti’s castle and only witness to the murder of the rest of the royal family-calling for help, Jackie takes up the challenge and sails to the island nation of Athatraim, (or as it’s more commonly referred to, The Black Forest) to challenge the new King and find out what’s been going on. It doesn’t end well for him.

Schneep: A half dryad medic who began working at Anti’s castle only a month before the then prince, only 17 at the time, murdered his family. Schneep didn’t find out about this until years after it occurred, but now that he knows, he cannot leave. There’s nowhere he could go, anyway. The Black Forest is small but dangerous, and Anti has the entire area under constant watch by his militia. So he stays, looking after his young apprentice Maya and narrowly avoiding the wrath of the King, who’s becoming less and less stable every day.

Chase: The commander of the Night Guard, a small group of fifteen warriors whom Anti uses to carry out more clandestine missions that the normal guard or the peasant militia couldn’t accomplish. He was born to a butcher in the human kingdom of Vitralia and later turned to archery as a way to support his father after he got old. He later married, had two sons, and turned his archery talent into a sort of entertainment side venture. However, the Black Forest declared war on Vitralia when he was 24 and he was drafted, working in the Vitralian army for nearly a year before being captured and sent away. How he went from a prisoner of war to one of Anti’s most trusted allies is a question that even the other Night Guard members don’t know the answer to, but it’s a story Chase isn’t too keen on telling. (But I am, expect a fic on that eventually)

Jameson: Anti’s steward. Though he is very hard on the other servants and demands punctuality and decorum out of all of them at all times, it is only to protect them against Anti’s anger should they fail to do their duties correctly. Born 200 years before our story begins, Jameson was gifted with the ability to bring plants, animals, even people back from the dead. However, resurrection comes with a steep price, and as punishment for resurrecting his father after he suffered an accident when Jameson was 25, he was cursed by Rancor, God of Death, for preventing his father's soul from passing into the underworld. The God took his as a deadly insult, and cursed Jameson with immortality, never aging, watching his family and friends grow old and leave him behind until everyone he knew was long dead. Anti, however, took interest in his powers and had him captured and taken back to the castle, and in the process, stealing some of the only things Jameson still had left: his freedom, and his voice.

Marvin: The Oracle, Anti’s advisor, and court magician. An elven mage, Marvin was born in a temple to the God of Magic, Malfice, and raised there among other mages, learning the trade and growing up secluded away from the wars raging in the southern Vitralian cities. Uniquely gifted with divination, Marvin is often plagued by prophetic dreams describing future events, but he is yet to learn to control this ability. It did, however, attract Anti’s attention, who saved Marvin from an early grave by execution for witchcraft and gave him a second chance at life and the opportunity to get revenge on the people who killed his family and tried to execute him. Marvin, grieving and angry, agreed, but not without some extra convincing. ;)

Side Characters:

Proelia: Anti’s mother, the Goddess of War and Disease.

Rihannon: God of Darkness and Corruption, Proelia’s younger brother

Alcinor: God of Memory and Dreams, Rihannon’s youngest son.

Chelsea: Head housemaid, was Anti and his late half brother Ayrin’s nursemaid.

Ayrin: Anti’s late mortal half brother, son of his father and stepmother.

Adrianne: Jackie’s mother.

Miralis: Second in command of the Night Guard.

Maya: Schneep’s young apprentice, works with him in the alchemy room of the castle.

Malfice: God of Magic and Knowledge

Natale: Young servant at the castle starting her first year on the job.

Ciern: Natale’s friend, stablehand at the castle.

Vitae: Queen of the Gods, Goddess of Life

Rancor: King of the Gods, God of Death, Proelia’s father.

(There’s a TON of little side characters in this but I’m only putting the most important ones because this is a monster of a post already.)

(Taglist) 

@egopocalypse @shadowsinyoursoul @epicfangirl01 @kitnkas @mijako98 @anothermarkiplierfan @sarinoxious @bunchofdoodlesinspace @spicydanhowell @ekhoecho @awkward-bullshit @amockingbirdslament @acuriousquail @hollenka99 @lower-your-expectationss 

Let me know if you’d like added or taken off! 

Fantasy AU Masterlist