#and you were conceived of your beloved father raping your mother. like

[coldforestnight]

When mom hates that she had you and wishes you were dead and also wants to fuck you ❤️❤️❤️

[it-begins-with-rain]

Asian TV Recommendations: Masterpost

I’ve decided to consolidate my Asian TV Recommendations to a single post!

*Updated 10/04/2020: Dance of the Phoenix, The Lost Tomb, Reunion: The Sound of the Providence

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A Love So Beautiful

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Can the pure love of 17-year-olds endure through all the challenges of college and adulthood?

Chen Xiao Xi and Jiang Chen are high school friends and neighbors who grew up together. Xiao Xi is happy-go-lucky and doesn’t like to study much but she has a talent for drawing. Jiang Chen is popular for his good looks and high grades, but is cold and indifferent to other people. 

Their friends include swimmer Wu Bo Song, who will do anything for XiaoXi, the dorky and over-confident gamer Lu Yang, and Lin Jing Xiao, the most beautiful girl in school (who Lu Yang is hopelessly in love with).

How will the realities of life shape the friendships and love lives of these young adults?

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Abyss (Netflix Original)

Language: Korean

Abyss is a spherical orb that has the power to raise the dead- with a kick: If you were a good person, you are resurrected younger and more attractive. If you were a bad person, your body could change into any form (generally you are at least decades older). 

This is all well and good, until kind-hearted (yet unattractive) Cha Min is resurrected as a young hottie and given the Abyss. He finds an old man dead in the road and uses it to save him- unwittingly resurrecting a violent serial killer on his way to murder Cha Min’s best friend and lifelong crush, Criminal Prosecutor Se Yeon. 

Cha Min resurrects the vain and petty Se Yeon (who returns to a body identical to her professional rival) and together they must hunt down the murderer- whatever his new face may be.

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Arang and the Magistrate // The Tale of Arang

Language: Korean

The foolhardy ghost of a young woman seeks to discover the truth behind her unjust death and meets a magistrate named Eun-oh, who has the ability to see ghosts. 

She is in possession of a distinct hairpin given to Eun-Oh’s missing mother- meaning Arang was holding it when she died. Eun-Oh and Arang’s search for her memories and his mother will become the focus of gods and ghouls alike.

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Ashes of Love // Heavy Sweetness, Ash-Like Frost

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Jin Mi is the secret lovechild of the Flower Deity and the Water Immortal, conceived before the Flower Deity suffers a fatal wound. 

The deity gives birth to a baby girl (Jin Mi) on her deathbed, and foresees the infant will face a terrible trial by her 10,000th year. To save her from her fate, the Flower Deity gives Jin Mi a pill that makes it impossible for her to ever feel romantic love. Upon her death, she forbids anyone in the Flower Kingdom from revealing the fact that she had a child.

Several thousand years later, Jin Mi is a bumbling little fairy trapped in The Water Mirror- a gilded prison where low-level fairies can live in peace. Jin Mi believes she is a small Grape Fairy, and lives a happy (if not dull) life within the Mirror with her friends.

When a charred bird falls from the heavens into the Water Mirror, Jin Mi decides to eat save the poor little ‘crow’-- who in reality is Xu Feng, the mighty phoenix son of the Heavenly Emperor. Her decision to not eat save the Fire God will put them at the heart of plots and schemes, romances and adventures spanning the Flower Kingdom, Heavenly Realm, Demon Kingdom, and the Realm of Mortals.

**Trigger Warning: Contains reference to off-camera sexual assault.**

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Because This is My First Life

Language: Korean

Nam Se-Hee is a single man in his early 30's. A highly logical and anti-social man, he is constantly pressured by his family to find a woman and marry her- something he has no interest in whatsoever. The only things that matter in Se-Hee’s life are his cat and working so that he can pay off the mortgage on his house in 30 years.

Yoon Ji-Ho  is a single woman in her early 30's. An assistant drama writer, she has lofty dreams and barely two pennies to rub together. The home she and her brother live in is cramped and small- doubly so once she finds out her brother has been living with a wife he never told her about. Ji-Ho is forced out of her home and- due to her financial situation- moves in with a “young woman” she’s only met via text- Nam Se-Hee.

Events unfold that will force Ji-Ho and Se-Hee into a corner from which they can only find one way out:: Enter into a strictly contracted marriage, absent love, romance, or sex, and keep up their ruse around family and friends for a period of two years.

But as time goes on, the cold and robotic Se-Hee and hopeless Ji-Ho begin to develop feelings for one another beyond that of a Landlord and a Tenant. It is only too easy for them to slip into the roles of Husband and Wife.

**Trigger Warning: On-Camera attempted rape, numerous instances of sexual harassment and non-rape assault (ie, groping)**

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Cunning Single Lady

Language: Korean

Na Aera, a woman left with crippling debt after divorcing her husband, learns her ex has become a millionaire off a mobile app she inspired during their time together. She forms a plot to seduce her ex husband, re-marry him, and then take him for half his new net-worth. Her ex is well aware of this plot, and has been waiting for a chance to get some closure of his own for their abrupt split. 

There are two questions the pair must find the answer together: How do you scheme against someone if you accidentally fall in love with them again? And why did Na Aera really decide to leave her husband in the first place?

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Dance of the Phoenix

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Feng Wu, a former genius girl in the Junwu Continent, was attacked by her old enemy Zuo Qingluan. In the attack, she lost not only her memories and abilities, but her “phoenix blood” which made her powerful.

In order to save Feng Wu her secret tutor, Master Mu Jiuzhou (a hero thought long dead whose soul is bound inside a ring Feng Wu wears around her neck), exhausted his vitality and fell into a deep coma. 

The forces Master Mu Jiuzhou were trying to keep at bay are roiling again, readying for war unless Feng Wu can recover her memories, her power, and survive long enough to release him from the ring.

But if Feng Wu at full power couldn’t stop the evil Zhuo Qingluan’s attack and save herself, what chance does “normal person” Feng Wu have?

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Dear Judge // Your Honor

Language: Korean

Han Soo-Ho and Han Kang-Ho were born as identical twins, but live totally different lives. 

Han Soo-Ho is a seemingly righteous judge, respected by all and beloved by his mother no matter how cold and dismissive he is. He is corrupt to his core and sells desired sentences to major corporations, no matter who gets hurt in the crossfire.

Han Kang-Ho, raised in his brother’s shadow, is a petty criminal with 5 separate prison terms under his belt. He flaunts the law and lives an angry and miserable life as the nobody his mother tells him he is.

When Han Soo-Ho is abducted by people intent on getting their own brand of justice, it coincides with Kang-Ho needing somewhere to hide. He secretly takes his brother’s place as a judge. He intends to just cut and run, but begins to fall for judicial intern Song So-Eun, whose blind faith in the justice system is both misguided and infectious. 

Han Kang-Ho, once considered trash by his own family, suddenly finds himself highly respected and admired. As a veteran of the criminal justice system he knows every trick and trap, but will he use his knowledge to rake in the dough like his corrupt brother, or will he wield his newfound power to bring mercy to the law?

**Trigger Warning: Contains partially on-camera rape, references to rape, assault, and themes of assault-related PTSD**

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Fairyland Lovers

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Bai Qi is a “spiritual doctor” who travels the world to rid spirits of their obsessions and stop them from becoming monsters. Eons ago he himself was at the threshold of becoming an Evil Spirit, and was saved by a Divine Warrior who helped him find a way to move past his darkness before tragically losing her life.

Isolated from the world and alone with a sprig of his lost love’s peach tree, Bai Qi meets the sunny but hapless actress Lin Xia. Not only does the tree come to life in her presence- and not only can she use the tools left behind by his lost lover- she also has the same face.

Curious, Bai Qi enters into a co-habitation agreement with Lin Xia and she helps him cleanse souls before they can turn into Evil Spirits. As their lives intersect, a memory that Bai Qi sealed away for over ten thousand years begins to surface.

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Flower of Evil

Language: Korean

Baek Hee-Sung seems like the perfect husband.

A craftsman, his hard work allowed his metal-working studio to flourish and he provides a good life for his wife, Detective Cha Ji-Won, and their young daughter. But behind his perfectly sculpted mask hides a dark secret that even his wife does not know:

Baek Hee-Sung is really Do Min-Soo, a boy believed to have aided his father in a series of grizzly serial-murders 18 years ago. 

Unfortunately, secrets have a way of coming out, and as a homicide detective, it is Cha Ji-Won’s job to uncover as many of them as she can. A murderer strikes, leaving behind all the hallmarks of the murders committed by Do Min-Soo’s father. Ji-Won finds herself on a dark path that could destroy the very foundations of her happy life.

Who is Baek Hee-Sung? What really happened eighteen years ago? And what will Cha Ji-Won do once she realizes just who she is married to?

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Guardian

Language: Chinese

Super-Detective Zhao Yunlan meets university professor (and powerful supernatural being) Shen Wei and the two men are instantly drawn together by a past one cannot forget and a future the other cannot guess. As they grow closer, they find themselves at the heart of a high-stakes supernatural battle between unknown enemies.

Will the heroic duo’s unique talents- and special bond- be enough to help them outwit the forces of darkness?

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Handsome Siblings (2020 Netflix Edition)

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Hua Wuque is a pillar of righteousness and virtue, the only male disciple of the powerful Yihua Palace cultivation clan. An orphan, he was taken in by the clan leader and her sister and raised with only one goal in life: to find and kill Jiang Xiaoyu, a mighty villain and enemy of Yihua Palace.

So who is Jiang Xiaoyu? Also known as Xiaoyu’er, Jiang Xiaoyu is an orphan himself- the same age as Hua Wuque in fact- raised by the five most feared and hated villains in the world within the confines of the Wicked Canyon. Into Jiang Xiaoyu the villains poured their knowledge, tricks, and ruthlessness, seeking to create the ultimate villain. There is only one problem: As he was raised in the Wicked Canyon and surrounded by nothing but villains, Jiang Xiaoyu mostly uses his abilities to… harm villains and protect the weak.

When Jiang Xiaoyu comes of age and leaves the Wicked Canyon (or rather, becomes too much of a trickster for the villains to handle anymore), Hua Wuque is unleashed to venture from Yihua Palace and hunt down his enemy. 

But how could someone kept confined in the Wicked Canyon for the first 18 years of his life be a threat to Yihua Palace? And why must Hua Wuque be the one to kill him (under direction that Jiang Xiaoyu cannot die naturally, be killed by someone else, or kill himself)?

There is a piece of the story Jiang Xiaoyu and Hua Wuque do not know: they are orphans of the same tragedy, in which the divine hero Jiang Feng spurned the love of both leaders of Yihua Palace for a beautiful servant named Hua Yuenu. Hua Yuenu was forced to commit suicide and Jiang Feng killed himself rather than submit to the Ladies of Yihua–

Leaving behind newborn (non-identical) twin sons.

Yihua Palace’s plot is a simple (if OTT) act of vengeance against Jiang Feng’s memory:: Force one brother to murder the other, then reveal to Hua Wuque the sin he has committed and let it drive the boy insane.

Will the truth come out before Wuque finds and kills Xiaoyu, or will the evil Ladies of Yihua Palace finally have the vengeance they have waited for for over 18 years? As Wuque and Xiaoyu’s paths cross more and more they strike up an unlikely friendship, even knowing there is no escaping their dark fate.

**Trigger Warning: Later episodes include off-camera sexual assault and on-camera depictions of near-rape.**

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Hello, My Twenties

Language: Korean

With different personalities, life goals, and taste in men, five female college students become housemates in a shared residence called Belle Epoque.

Trigger Warning: Season 1 contains scenes of abuse and forced confinement; Season 2 deals with severe PTSD.

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Hi My Sweetheart

Language: Taiwanese-Mandarin

Xue Hai is a kindhearted (and extremely wealthy) but naïve man who has been sheltered by his big sisters his entire life. He decides to go to college in China- where no one knows him- under the name Da Lang and with the image of a poor scholarship student. There Xue Hai meets the dominant, friendless, and rebellious Bao Zhu. Naturally the two fall in love, but after 4 years together, just as he’s going to reveal his identity and propose, Bao Zhu viciously dumps him.

Fast forward three more years. Xue Hai has transformed himself into a handsome but ruthless playboy who treats women as nothing more than toys to be used and cast aside. When he chances across Bao Zhu once more, he decides to launch a campaign to destroy her heart as thoroughly and mercilessly as she did his. 

Except Xue Hai is missing one important piece of their love story: Bao Zhu only left him to protect him from her domineering mother, and she has been searching for her beloved Da Lang ever since.

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Hit the Top // The Best Hit

Language: Korean

A free-spirited idol vanishes in the early 90s and reappears in 2017 where he is given a second chance to mend his previous relationships, form a bond with a son he never knew existed, and perhaps solve his own suspected murder before fate throws him back where he belongs.

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Hotel Del Luna

Language: Korean

Nestled deep in the heart of Seoul’s thriving downtown sits a mysterious hotel, the likes of which no one has ever seen before. Old beyond measure, the building has stood for millennia, an ever-present testament to the fact that things are not always what they seem. 

The Hotel Del Luna is the final place on this earth lost souls pass through before they move on to the other side. For centuries the hotel has been under the control of Man Wol- a greedy and suspicious immortal. 

When the multi-faced goddess of Fate plants a human in her path to take over as Manager of the hotel, she gives him a task: discover the truth of Man Wol’s grudge and heal her weary soul before Man Wol succumbs to past hatreds and destroys herself forever.

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The King’s Avatar

Language: Mandarin Chinese

In the online multiplayer game Glory, Ye Xiu is well known as the undisputed master of professional sports- though no one outside of the professional teams actually knows what he looks like as he hides his face from media and fans. A player since he was a child- and raised largely in professional player training camps- Ye Xiu has no understanding of the outside world.

Halfway through the season, the money-hungry company behind his team, Excellency Era, forces him out and replaces him with an undisciplined hot-shot. Penniless and with nowhere to go, Ye Xiu crosses the street and enters the Happy Internet Cafe. The owner is a diehard fan of the mysterious Ye Xiu, and hires Ye Qiu as an IT manager not for his experience, but for his shared love of the game. 

When Glory launches their tenth server, Ye Qiu throws himself into the game once more. Equipped with ten years of gaming experience, memories of an unfinished pledge to a dead friend, and an incomplete self-made weapon, Ye Qiu will rise from the ashes, forge a new team, and take back his crown.

**This drama sees actor Yang-Yang once again assume the role of Legendary Gamer, as he played previously in ‘Love O2O’ (Recommended below)

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The Lost Tomb**

Language: Mandarin Chinese

50 years ago, a group of Changsha grave robbers known as the “Mystic Nine” dug out manuscripts of the location of treasures from the Warring States period, but soon after almost the entire group was hunted down and slaughtered.

In the present, the young grandchild of the sole survivor, Wu Xie, discovers a secret within his grandfather's notes as well as half of a silk manuscript that may reveal the location of the lost tomb. But there is one problem- the other half of the manuscript is held by a shady organization of tomb raiders eager to break in and steal whatever cultural relics are inside the tomb.

Wu Xie has a "National Treasure” moment and decides that in order to stop the objects in the tomb from vanishing into the black market he will break in first and recover whatever is inside (’I’m going to steal the Declaration of Independence...’). 

Wu Xie is helped on his journey by his beloved “Third Uncle” Wu Sanxing, his uncle’s right hand man Panzi, and the mysterious Xiao Ge - a tomb raider who seems to know of traps before they are sprung and whose hand has been mutilated in a way not seen among tomb robbing families in over a century.

They expected to find a lost tomb, perhaps chase away some thieves, and learn about an exciting piece of lost history. What they did not expect was for the tomb to strike back, the dead to rise, and the past to fight and keep what secrets it holds.

Who exactly are this alternate group of tomb robbers? What are they searching for? What exactly is protecting the tomb? Whose side is Xiao Ge truly on? And- most crucially- can Wu Xie survive long enough to find the answers?

** This recommendation is part of a broader series of shows and movies, all adapted from “The Gravedigger’s Notebook” and its sequels::

The Lost Tomb (2015)

The Lost Tomb 2: Explore With the Note (2016)

Time Raiders (2016 movie)

The Mystic Nine (2016)

Tomb of the Sea (2018)

Reunion: The Sound of the Providence (which gets its own recommendation below; 2019-2020)

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Love O2O

Language: Mandarin Chinese

** O = letter, not number

Wei-Wei has both beauty and brains. A computer goddess, she aspires to be an online game developer. In her spare time, she plays her favorite online game ‘A Chinese Ghost Story’- where she has made a name for herself as the top female player on the entire server.

After her online husband dumps her, she gets a message from legendary player Yixiao Naihe- asking to become her online husband (marriages in-game offer certain benefits and quest lines single players cannot achieve).

Little does Wei-Wei know that Yixiao Naihe is also her college senior and the most desired man on campus, Xiao Nai.

Will their online chemistry lead to a real-life romance? Yes. Of course it will. It’s in the title.

** Can’t get enough of Xiao Nai (Yang-Yang) as the Legendary Gamer? Check out his new show ‘The King’s Avatar’ (Recommended above).

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My Roommate is a Detective

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Shanghai in 1925 is caught between gang leaders and the European powers colonizing China. 

A resourceful young police officer named Qiao Chu Sheng is on the trail of a brutal but devious killer. Realizing that the police force will need some extra help with this difficult case, he decides to form an elite crime-busting detective team. He reaches out Lu Yao, a Cambridge graduate a slick con-man. 

Qiao Chu Sheng has learned that Lu Yao has remarkable powers of deduction and a brilliant mind – and believes he can help crack this difficult case. To round off the team, he enlists the help of Bai You Ning, a focused young female reporter for a daily newspaper. A free-thinking, independent young woman, she has a strong sense of justice – and pledges to help catch the killer. 

The trio form a small detective squad that specializes in solving strange and unsettling murder mysteries.

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Mystic Pop-Up Bar

Language: Korean

Mystic Pop-up Bar tells the story of a mysterious outdoor drinking establishment run by an ill-tempered woman named Wol Joo, an innocent part-time employee named Han Kang Bae, and a former afterlife detective known as Chief Gwi who visit customers in their dreams to help resolve their problems.

To atone for a devastating mistake in her past life, Wol-Joo must aleviate the suffering of 100,000 individuals. After 500 years the counter stands at 99,990, but the impatient judges of the afterlife are tired of Wol-Joo’s bad attitude and increasing hatred of humanity.

She now has just one month to save 10 people, or else her soul will be destroyed forever.

**It’s worth noting the heavy similarities between Mystic Pop-Up Bar and Hotel Del Luna, though it should be said that Mystic Pop Up Bar’s script was finished first while Hotel Del Luna was made more quickly. The similarities between the two shows appears to be coincidental.

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Oh My Emperor

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Fei-Fei, a young doctor, is wounded in an accident and finds herself trapped in the ancient and mystical nation of Huang Dao. The people of Huang Dao are ruled by a king born of the stars- the physical embodiment of one of the twelve zodiac constellations. To keep discord from arising among the people, the Twelve Zodiac Masters govern together to keep the peace.

But a thirteenth sign has been forcibly subjugated, it’s Lord executed, and its people scattered to the wind. The lost sign- Ophiuchus- is rising once more- and Fei-Fei is its (unwilling) Master.

It only complicates matters slightly that Fei-Fei finds herself between the handsome and charming Master of Aquarius and his nephew- the cold Master of Capricorn (who is also the Emperor). Can Fei-Fei keep her identity secret long enough to solve the mystery of the Ophiuchus purge- or is Huang Dao doomed to destruction?

**This drama is a showpiece for members of the Chinese pop group X-Nine, do not judge it by the same standards as a traditional drama. Showpiece dramas tend to be a bit silly.

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Oh My Ghost

Language: Korean

Soon-Ae is the ghost of a woman who died a virgin. Believing getting laid is her only chance to move on before she becomes an evil spirit, she possesses the body of Bong Sun- an introvert with extremely low self esteem. 

Acknowledging it isn’t an ideal arrangement, Soon-Ae decides help Bong Sun and focuses her seductive attentions on the man Bong Sun is secretly in love with. Bong Sun reluctantly agrees, hoping Soon-Ae’s influence will make her more outgoing and self-assured.

There are two problems with the girls’ plan once it goes into motion: Bong Sun’s colleagues worry she has had a mental breakdown and refuse to take advantage of her; and the longer Soon-Ae is in Bong Sun’s body the more she remembers of her own brutal assault and murder. 

Soon-Ae’s unfinished business might have more to do with justice than tapping a hot chef, but can she solve her murder without putting Bong Sun in danger?

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Psychopath’s Diary

Language: Korean

In the wrong place at the wrong time, kind-hearted and timid Dong Shik plays witness to a gruesome murder. As if that weren’t bad enough, he stumbles across the killer’s diary-a horrible record of his heinous crimes and the psychotic ramblings of a narcissistic sociopath. 

Chased by the killer, Dong Shik runs into traffic and is hit by a police officer. After waking up from a brief coma, Dong Shik is left with 2 things: total amnesia, and the murderer’s diary. Dong Shik mistakes himself for the serial killer, and his personality begins to twist.

Can a timid man become a monster? What of the actual serial killer? With no diary to ground him, it’s only a matter of time before the killer loses what little control he once had.

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Reunion: The Sound of the Providence**

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Wu Xie, “Fatty” Wang Pangzi, and the quasi-immortal tomb raider Xiao Ge (AKA Zheng Qiling, Kylin, and “Poker Face”) have faced many dangerous tombs together over the past twelve years.

Now, it is time for them to go on their last great adventure as the so-called “Iron Triangle” before Wu Xie sets off on the journey all must eventually make: death. He always thought his end would come in a dangerous tomb, but instead it will be lung cancer that claims his life. With only 3-4 months left to live, Wu Xie hides the truth of his illness from his friends and family, revealing the truth only to Xiao Ge.

Once upon a time, Wu Xie was told that when a man meets his death he must do so with a clear conscience. But something has been weighing on Wu Xie- his Third Uncle’s disappearance at the end of their first adventure. Right on time, a message from his long lost uncle appears, setting Wu Xie on a desperate mission to find him before the cancer eating away at his body destroys him at last.

This will most likely be Wu Xie’s final journey, but he will do anything in his power to make sure his friends and family will be safe long after his time is up. In the final 3-4 months of Wu Xie’s life he will seek to unravel the mystery of the “Thunder City”- starting with the most dangerous tomb he’s ever explored, The South Sea King’s Tomb. 

The sound of thunder hides a secret men have killed for, but is there really a way to hear the words of gods within it? Someone clearly thought so, but who? Is Uncle Sanxing still alive, or is someone in the shadows guiding Wu Xie to them?

Wu Xie’s enemies thought he was dangerous before, but now he is a dying man with a mission. There is no telling what lengths he will go to in order to achieve his goals. He might just manage to die in a tomb after all...

** This recommendation is just the latest installment in an entire series of stories adapted from “The Gravedigger’s Notebook” and related novels::

The Lost Tomb (2015)

The Lost Tomb 2: Explore With the Note (2016)

Time Raiders (2016 movie)

The Mystic Nine (2016)

Tomb of the Sea (2018)

Reunion: The Sound of the Providence (2019-2020)

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The Romance of Tiger and Rose

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Chen Xiao Qian has dedicated her life to making her dream of becoming a well-respected screenwriter come true. Standing on the production set of sweeping dramas she penned through endless blood, sweat, and tears, Xiao Qian can hardly believe what she is seeing: her work, come to life!

Except it isn’t a set. And her work truly has come to life.

Her script is a simple one: the heirs of two rival cities who seek to destroy one another enter into a doomed romance that will lead to endless betrayals and a war that will kill the male lead, Han Shuo.

There is just one problem- Xiao Qian wakes in the body of Han Shuo’s first wife on the day he will murder her! The only way for Xiao Qian to return to this world is to survive the story, but in keeping herself alive longer the script begins to change, and Han Shuo begins to fall in love with the wrong person.

At first it is easy for Xiao Qian to keep herself alive- just go along with the script! But the story wants to return to the original plot, which means characters who should be friends become enemies, enemies become friends, and Xiao Qian might not live long enough to find her way home.

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Secret Healer // Mirror of the Witch

Language: Korean

Once upon a time an evil shaman helped the Crown Princess conceive twins- but into the Princess’ womb she also cast a dark curse capable of destroying the nation. Her plans were thwarted by her former mentor- who at the command of the Princess consolidated the curse from two twins into just one- the female child. The world believes the shaman destroyed the princess, burning the baby in holy flame to purge the curse- but instead he decides to raise her and try to help her break the curse upon her.

If she dies before the curse is lifted, it will unleash hell and destroy the nation. To break the curse she must fulfill wishes- but the evil shaman’s life is bound to the curse she cast so long ago. As the curse starts to break, she realizes the child is not as dead as she was lead to believe and begins a campaign to root her out and destroy her.

The princess forms a bond with a young scholar who becomes entangled in the princess’ curse and will stop at nothing to help free her. Her curse carries a catch though: Anyone she loves will die... and anyone who loves her will also perish.

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Strong Woman Do Bong Soon

Language: Korean

A freakishly strong- but totally sweet- woman is caught between the love of her arrogant but handsome boss and her disinterested lifelong crush. 

Her boss wants her to embrace her supernatural strength and use it proudly, but she loves that her crush treats her like someone weak and in need of protection. Bong Soon will have to chose for herself if she will suppress her strength for her childhood crush or unleash herself to protect those she loves. 

A murderer prowling the streets might make that decision for her though...

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The Untamed

Language: Mandarin Chinese

On the cliffs of the Nightless City, upon defeating his enemies in a bloody slaughter, the cruel and vicious Yiling Patriarch- Wei Wuxian- threw himself to his death.

Sixteen years later, he is resurrected by a madman and given a second chance to right what went so terribly wrong long ago. Wei Wuxian reunites with the honorable, righteous, and stern Lan Wangji- his confidant, soulmate, and best friend. 

How can someone as upstanding as Lan Wangji befriend the monstrous and hated Yiling Patriarch? What turned the happy and popular Wei Wuxian into the man who slaughtered thousands at Nightless by weaponizing the souls of the dead? 

And what terrible secret was Wuxian resurrected to unearth?

The past is not always what it seems, and there is no clean line between right and wrong.

**This story is told in two sections: Episode 2 enters a 30-episode flashback sequence showing Wei Wuxian’s path from popular youth to the monster upon the Cliffs of Nightless, with the first 1.5 episodes, and the last 20, dealing with the “present”. Don’t worry if you’re lost when the show starts, that is by design.

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You’re Beautiful

Language: Korean

Go Mi Nyeo has only one goal in life: To take her final vows and become a nun. Her twin brother, Go Mi Nam, desires nothing more than the life of an idol so that he can use his fame to find their missing mother. 

Go Mi Nam’s dream is in jeopardy after a botched surgery and his twin must put her life on hold to quite literally step into his shoes and cover for her brother. 

She joins the band A.N.JELL and quickly ends up on the bad side of their more devil-like leader. Can Go Mi Nyeo hide her true identity from her band-mates long enough for her brother to return?

No. No she cannot. By the end of the first day all but one- the goofy and loving Jeremy- know that she is no man... But they let her think she’s fooled them. It’s funnier that way.

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W: Two Worlds

Language: Korean

Is it possible to live in the same place at the same time, but in a completely different dimension?

Yeon Joo is a second-year cardiothoracic resident doctor. Her father, creator of the world famous web series ‘W’ suddenly disappears one day. While searching for him Yeon Joo finds a strange man covered in blood and only barely manages to resuscitate him before the words “To Be Continued” flash across her vision and he disappears.

When she returns, there is a new chapter of her father’s blockbuster series available online- one that features a doctor with her exact name and clothing saving a man covered in blood...

Where is Yeon Joo’s father? How is the story updating itself? As she is dragged into the world of ‘W’ with increasing frequency Yeon Joo and the story’s leading man, Kang Chul, must answer the most important question of all:

Is it possible something from that world escaped into this one?

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Well Intended Love (Season 1: Drama Version)

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Seasons 1 and 2 of “Well Intended Love” feature the same stars playing the same characters, but the storylines are alternate-universes of one another telling the story from a different genre. Each season is its own wholly contained entity that does not impact- and is not impacted by- the other season in any way.

A third-rate actress with leukemia becomes entangled with the handsome but cold CEO Ling.

In order to receive a bone marrow transplant and contniue her career as an actress, Xia Lin enters into a secret marriage with Ling Yi Zhou. Despite the conspiracies and misunderstandings they encounter, the two begin to find true love.

But one question nags at Xia Lin’s mind:: Why did the cold, controlling, and distant Ling YiZhou need her to play the role of wife?

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Well Intended Love (Season 2: Rom-Com Version)

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Seasons 1 and 2 of “Well Intended Love” feature the same stars playing the same characters, but the storylines are alternate-universes of one another telling the story from a different genre. Each season is its own wholly contained entity that does not impact- and is not impacted by- the other season in any way.

Rising TV superstar Xia Lin finds herself embroiled in scandal after a run-in with business mogul Ling Yizhou at a party. To clear up any misunderstandings the two prepare a joint press conference-- where Xia Lin is stunned by Ling Yizhou’s statement that the two are- in fact- an engaged couple.

Ling Yizhou convinces Xia Lin to play fiancee for a period of one year, after which they can go their separate ways. To save face in front of her fans, Xia Lin agrees. She gradually begins to fall for the lovable and doting Ling Yizhou.

Someone works in the shadows to destroy everything Ling Yizhou holds dear- and the closer he gets to the heart of the conspiracy, the more he realizes Xia Lin may have a target on her back as well.

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What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim

Language: Korean

Can you be so self-absorbed that you have no idea what’s truly going on around you? Yeong Joon is Vice President of his family-owned company, Yoomyung Group. He is so narcissistic that he doesn’t pay attention to what his trusty secretary Kim Mi So is trying to tell him most of the time.

After nine years of making Yeong Joon look good and stroking his very large ego, Mi So decides to quit her job, citing a desire for a life outside of work and the chance to fall in love. Yeong Joon does not take the disruption of his routine well, and decides the only logical course of action is to make Mi So fall in love with him, thus guaranteeing she will stay by his side.

A dark secret from Yeong Joon’s past may hold the key to why he can’t let her go, but will Mi So stick around long enough to discover the truth?

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[song-of-kalinaw]

BASIC INFORMATION

Human Host

Name: Lilith Selene Lair

DOB: October 16, 1996

Ethnicity: Korean-American

Eye color: Dark Brown

Hair: Black, waist length

Occupation: Socialite, Empire Heiress

Current Location: Seoul, South Korea

Demoness

Name: Lilith

DOB: [information redacted]

Origin: Garden of Eden

Entity type: Original Succubus

Eye Color: Black Onyx

Hair: Black, waist length; morphs to preference

Current Location: Seoul, South Korea; Interuniverse travel

PERSONALITY

Human Host

Lilith Selene Lair, the mute heiress to the Lair Group of Companies, has her life planned out for her even before she was conceived. But after being born with a heart problem and spending most of her childhood in the hospital with only her brother as company-- she was known in their circle as the quiet princess, not just because of her mysterious mutism but because of the timid personality she adapted after her stay in the hospital.

She can be seen mostly keeping to herself but come forums or parties organized by her family or their friends, Lilith can play quite the host with her handy tablet always ready with a funny retort or an interesting inquiry. The heiress is also fond of kids and pets, which is why on warm afternoons or in the early mornings, she'll visit the park in their gated community to watch the toddlers play or pet a dog or two.

In her free time, she mostly stays indoors in the estate library poring over books or in her sunroom, just painting landscapes or abstract art she wishes to share with her brother in the slim chance he'd remember her.

Demoness

Lilith, the mother of demons and Adam's first wife, has learned to love partying. She would internally roll her eyes and offer snide remarks at her human host whenever the latter would attend functions and formal dinners-- the elegance wasn't lost on her, but after centuries of holding court at Pandemonium, the formal parties has simply grown to bore her.

On the chance that her host would slip and unleash her, the demoness always finds her way to bars and clubs, just taking her fill of alcohol and sex; creating an underground image for the heiress. Reckless and determined to have her moments of fun, Lilith would sometimes even alter her host's appearance so she can disappear to some random country or hop in a lover's yacht and not show up for days or weeks at a time, feigning sickness with the help of her human doctor friend.

BACKSTORY

trigger warning: description of rape, cursing, violence, death disclaimer: this story was written in the point of view of lilith (the human host) and lilith (the first woman, mother of demons). God and adam was depicted here as what the writer assumes is how lilith (the first woman) saw them. please don't take offense in the story Her first memory came in a flash of light before her eyes, mere moments before she heard the beeping of machines and the antiseptic in the air fills her nostrils. She's back on her hospital bedㅡ and it feels wrong, like she shouldn't be there. Wearily, Lilith opened her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of her hospital room. The familiar surrounding easing her worries, which if she takes time to think about is actually sad on her part. She's spent more time in this ward than on her wing in their estate. A depressing thought considering it's not something any teenager can normally stay. Unfortunately for her, normal has never been part of her upbringing, which also could be the reason why its her brother, Lucien, standing by her bedside with... wait, is that blood? She reached out, earning herself a smile from her beloved brother, but when she tried to speakㅡ panic came over her body, her lips were forming words but only incoherent sounds seem to slip out. I can't speak. What's happening to me? Her panicked gaze find Lucien's, frantic tears already rolling down her cheeks. Brother, help! was what she wanted to scream but no words escaped her mouth. And amidst her confusion and panic, a voice at the back of her mind demands her to shut up. Whose subconscious tells them to shut up? Her confusion at this new development was enough to abate her tears and panic. But instead of getting an answer, not that she was expecting one, a wave of new memories washed over her. In quick succession, flashes of memories flooded her mind resulting to a terrible headache coupled with the erratic beeping of her heart monitor. It felt wrong, as if they are a memory of someone ancient and yet she's looking at them from their perspective. She saw a blazing warm light together with the sound of birds chirping and the smell of crisp summer air. There was a man with her, holding her a hand... and another, who felt like he could be their Father. Came the next memory, it was of her and their Father. Somehow they were talking about Adam and how he wanted to sleep with her. She came to their father because it felt wrong somehow. She was happy just helping around, caring for the animals and plants. But now... The memory faded into black but the unsettling feeling at the pit of her stomach remains. Who owns these memories? The next memory filled her with dread. It was her Adam on top of her, forcing her to submit, telling her it was their father's wishes. They needed to reproduce, he said. The Garden needs more caretakers and it is their duty to care for all that was created by the Father. Lilith was sobbing now, feeling her skull about to crack open from the sudden tsunami of memories. Is this a dream? She couldn't quite tell. Next came another memory, this time it was of her refusing Adam's advances. It felt as if some time has passed and she's now known how to stand for herself. And there on her periphery, children. The sight of them makes her heart full right before the memory fades. Lilith's feeling all the emotions associated with the memories even when they are not her own, but she somehow feels a connection with whoever is projecting them on her. Keep watching. You'll understand. Now she's hearing voices on top of the dreams but the sense of doom in the pit of her stomach and her growing hatred for the man she knows as Adam has kept her sobbing silently on her bed. She feels Lucien give her hand a squeeze, grounding her as another wave pulls her under. This time it was Adam pushing her down and forcing her legs open with his knees. She spat at him in disgust, mustering enough force to push him off their bed while she stands over him, foot pressing on the inside of the man's thighs. "Lilith,

you witch!", he grunted as she pressed the heel of her foot harder on his thighs. Who gave this man the idea that he can control everything? They were made from the same soil, the Father gave them life as equals and yet... Another memory surfaced, this one felt heavier than all the other that came before it. She's barely aware of Lucien shaking her awake, his voice laced with worry as her heart monitor gives a series of beeps. She heard a booming voice ordering the archangels after her as she fled through the dessert, towards the only salvation she's heard of: The Red Sea. No angel of the Father will dare cross the shallow waters without fear of falling from His grace. Adam has been using her children to keep her in The Garden and do his bidding, forcing himself upon her and expecting her to just bite her tongue and part her legs like a mindless whore. But she's grown tired of protecting his ego and the children she so dearly loved. Enough is enough. She'll come back for her children just as soon as she finds them a safe place to live, away from the judging eyes of the Father and the self-centered ways of Adam. But luck was really not on her side. As soon as her feet landed on the wet loam bordering her promised salvation, three archangels loomed over her-- all of them pointed spears of heavenly fire at her tired body, ordering her to go back and serve her husband. All will be forgiven, they said. But she's no fool to believe any of their words especially when its the Father that sent them after her. The same Father that she first ran to when Adam suggested they sleep together. The same Father she expected would protect her. No. She will not turn back now and have Adam control her life for the rest of their days in The Garden. She would rather die than serve an egomaniac who sees her not as an equal but as an object created for his own wanton needs. "We'll ask one last time. Come back with us to The Garden or the Father will kill a hundred of your children for each day you spend out of Adam's sights." At this, Lilith choked on a sob. She spent years taking all she could of Adam's and the Father's demands... would it be so wrong to choose herself this one time? With a heavy heart, she turned towards the cold and calculating gaze of the archangels. If she goes back, she will suffer by Adam's side and with him as role model, it won't be long until their children start to follow him by example- and that's the last thing Lilith would want for her children. "Tell your Father that I will never take a single step inside The Garden again, nor would I like to set my eyes on Adam. My children would be better off dead than be raised by someone more obnoxious than filth.", and with this, she felt her heart broke knowing the Father heard. The memory faded into darkness but the heaviness in Lilith's heart stayed, leaving her sobbing on the bed with that sense of impending doom. She knows that wasn't the end, for whoever was showing her the memories has only grown more aggrieved. Feel my pain, pet. That voice- filled with resentment and hate. She knows she should be familiar with the story unfolding in her head but somehow she can't recall who it was about. She finds herself gasping for air in between her sobs. Lucien cradling her in his arms. "You'll be okay, Lili." But somehow she can't find comfort in his words. Not this time. With these thoughts ringing in her mind, she was once again pulled under- a crushing feeling of hatred and need for revenge pressing in around her. She was standing on the same wet loam, The Read Sea a sprawling landscape before her. But this time no angels can be seen on the horizon. It has been years since her heart broke for her children, and she mourned their deaths. She still does. But no amount of mourning can ever get the pain of a mother losing her child off her chest. She will not rest until both Adam and the Father suffer from the things they've put her through. One thing she learned from denouncing the Father was that her original protection is gone. And that The Red Sea

is where all the lascivious beings gather- a vast majority of them giving her what she needs and satiating her hunger for the pleasures of the flesh. She'd have to thank the Father for her gift to procreate as more of her children grew from the seeds these monsters produce every time they bed her. It was on one of those nights, hundreds of her children sprung out from the seed her lovers released on the earth, that he came. She heard news of his fall- the brightest angel stripped of his rank: Lucifer Morningstar. Fate has brought them together, it seems. They spent nights creating more Children of the Lilim, hushed promises exchanged in the heat of passion. He promised her revenge and delivered, getting Adam and his new wife out of The Garden after one too many tricks to go against the Father. She enjoyed her time with him, even spent millennia ruling the pits by his side. But she got bored. Thinking of new ways to punish the damned has started to grow stale. And that's when Lucien has made a summoning. Her brother summoned a demon. But why? She felt chills run through her body. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear an answer. But of course, the entity responsible for the memories have other ideas. She's suddenly aware of herself instantly stopping from sobbing, an amused smile spreading over her lips as she pushes Lucien off her. She's aware of the motions but couldn't control any of them. Hush now, pet. I'll play nice with you, just don't do anything stupid. Without meaning to, she suddenly became aware that she's now a prisoner in her own mind. Or what used to be her mind. "Hello, Lucien." The voice that came out of her mouth was melodic, lilting in a way that makes it sound like she's about to sing a lullaby- and this made her brother smile. But I couldn't speak when I woke up. "That's right, pet. You can't. But I can." Her brother's eyes widened, "Lili... who are you talking to? Are you feeling alright?" He attempted to take her hand. "Should I call your doctor?" She wanted to scream yes- do anything to let him know of her presence. "Oh stop with your acting, boy. Don't pretend you're really concerned now when you've thought about her death countless times before." A childish giggle escapes her lips while she pulls his shirt open, displaying the pattern of blood on his pale skin. She finds his gaze then, understanding of the situation finally dawning on him. "What were you thinking summoning someone you have no idea of containing? Creative choice using your sister as host. I kind of like this youthful body." Lucien, what is she saying? You wouldn't... "Oh but he did, pet. That's why I'm here." Lucien's shoulders slumped, silent sobs wracking his body as the gravity of what he's done caught up to him. "Now, where were we? Oh right. The price for your stupidity." She claps her hands, like a child getting ready to unwrap her presents on Christmas morning. "First, your sister's voice. I'm not as heartless as you think so I'd let her play once in awhile but without her voice." She adjusts her body on the bed, mindlessly pulling at the tubes connecting her to the machines. "No soul shall hear her voice again, unless of course when it's my time to have fun with her body. A good deal, don't you think?" "Next Lucien, is the memory of something or someone you most treasure. We both know who that is." She means me. Lucien began to protest but was met with nothing bad a dismissive wave of her hand, "Now boy, who said this was a negotiation?" "You will lose her. But you will forever have the feeling of losing something you hold dear- that empty feeling in your chest that will only grow as time passes. It will consume you, dear boy. And the pits will be there once it does." And it was with these words and Lucien's pleading and guilt-stricken face, did her gaze start to darken- her consciousness getting lulled once again into slumber. You'll always look for him. And she knows she will. The worst kind of mourning after all, is when the one you lost is still alive but will never be back in your life again

no matter how much you wish for them to be.

[marshmallowprotection]

Sorry if your getting tired of me sending so many submissions/asks about modern mysme au versions of my characters from my book ;-; I just like to send them and you said you like seeing stuff about OCS sooo...oof.

The above sketch is a concept I've made of Eros, btw.

So our newest in the line of me sending you stuff about modern au versions of characters is Eros, goddess of love. Er, emotions in general technically. 5'5 feet tall, pink hair, and light purple eyes. Besides Moya (whose a story for another time), she's the only other goddess who is bisexual (or just in general lgbtq+, although most of them are in some way both demisexual and demiromantic, but only attracted to men barring Eros and Moya). So, that's cool I guess? Oof

Considered the most beautiful out of her fellow goddesses (and often praised as the most beautiful woman ever due to her goddess status but she constantly says that no woman is the "most beautiful" out of all the others), Eros overall is a pretty beloved goddess.

But as with most of the goddesses, her story is not a happy one.

Eros since day one of being on her own without the other goddesses there has been sexually harassed by men due to her "above average breasts and pretty face". She was almost raped several times, and the effects on her psyche were not very positive. She slowly became more scared of men, fearing that like all the others they would harass her. Until she met a guy who uh actually I don't have a name for him yet T-T so let's just call him B. 

B suffered similar experiences to Eros, having been sexually abused by his stepmother. They met during a ball that Eros planned to celebrate the crowning of the new queen of [a country that no longer exists that I haven't named yet T-T]. Originally Eros was scared of him but after that ball, they began to meet up several times, and slowly she trusted him more and more.

After 5 years of this, (The last year of which was mostly just a hard to watch cycle of pining and missed opportunities) she confessed to B she loved him, and like classical love stories they eloped in secret (she couldn't tell anyone because the goddesses are forbidden to have relationships with humans by Kaya because Kaya knew it would only cause heartbreak and pain for both parties...Eros didn't listen). 

2 years later through uh stuff, Eros conceives a child with B and later gives birth to Lucretia, who inherited her father's blonde hair and green eyes. Eros had to lie to everyone that Lucretia was her adopted child she found abandoned somewhere as she would be in deep, deep trouble if Kaya found out about her relationship with B. Eros overall ended up unintentionally neglecting her daughter, her duties as the goddess of love and head of the church in Alluria left her for days on end leaving Lucretia in the care of B or one of her servants. As time went on Lucretia became resentful of her mother for prioritizing her "job" over her and having to lie to everyone all the time. 

"Why did you even have me if you only intended to force me to hide?!" Was something Lucretia told Eros when she was 14, one year before B died.

Eros and B constantly fought over the life that they had, the life of hiding Lucretia and B had to endure whilst Eros left them for days on end.

They had a particularly heated argument two days before B died about the issue. 

B had stormed out of the palace and went missing hours later.

His dead body was found hanging from a tree in Rose Forest, and it was eventually determined to be a suicide. The true reasons for B's suicide remain unknown but Eros believes it to be her fault and blamed herself for his death. She even considered committing suicide herself...but killing oneself as a goddess is notoriously difficult. 

The only way for a goddess to die is for her soul to be destroyed, which is very difficult. 

And so she wept.

And wept.

And wept.

She didn't leave her room, she didn't care for her life anymore.

She was just a walking corpse, drowning in guilt and sorrow.

Lucretia and Eros's relationship plummeted even more from there, with Lucretia saying:

"Wallowing in our sorrow only makes everything worse! Pull yourself together already! You have a child and responsibilities as archbishop! Are you blind or simply deaf to the cries of your 15-year-old several year's neglected daughter who only ever wanted you to hold her hand and love her, but instead watched you prioritize Father and her responsibilities over her?! You already broke several rules, why not have bent a few more for your fucking daughter?! If all you were going to do was force me and Father to hide, then why did you even have me? Why did you elope with Father if you were only going to make him hide from the world?" Before storming out in tears.

When Lucretia was 16 Eros did the second best thing to suicide: put herself into a self-inflicted coma, where the only person who would know how to wake her...was, in fact, Lucretia. Before she put herself into a coma, Lucretia told her this: "So you're going to pawn off your responsibilities and entire life to your daughter so you can make yourself fall asleep and live in a dream where everything is perfect and how you want it to be? Ha, what a cowardly thing to do...Mother." 

I'm not sure how events would work in a modern AU, potentially Eros might be a leader of a nation or something (maybe France since Alluria is inspired by France, potentially in some weird alternate timeline where the monarchy somehow didn't get totally abolished? Though it would be a constitutional monarchy obviously) and force someone to put her in a coma or something? Maybe.

After Eros put herself into a coma, Lucretia took over her responsibilities as archbishop at age 16 and stayed archbishop for almost a century before faking her death and going into hiding for another century. She began faking her identity over the centuries, in a cycle of: come out of hiding and fake a new identity, using a masking spell to make herself look different, faking her death after a century or so, then spending a century in hiding, repeat.

I'll probably make a submission about Lucretia later, but for now here's Eros I suppose.

I really love her character design, though. You’re really good at making hairstyles that are not only unique but have this fantasy flare about them that makes me in a way, want to play with it. I just think braids and loose styles are so neat and I’d info-dump about how cute I think it is but it’s definitely making me feel some kind of way. It’s about the flowing fabrics and the way that you capture a scene when you want to do that.

It’s very tragic though that she loves so deeply but she’s unable to help her own life and family. It’s a song and dance that happens a lot in history but it does seem realistic no matter how painful it is. Sometimes, things get put to the wayside that shouldn’t. 

[drwcn]

I think you meant father in your last post. and I think its because their parents were both in seclusion SEPARATELY and their mother didn't even love their father but she agreed to marry him to get immunity. and like she might have agreed to have lxc because the sect needed an heir but that was still not something she would have preferred, and then again when lwj was conceived

Oops yes my typo. I fixed it. thanks! :) 

 Re: people assume Qingheng-jun raped (Trigger Warning!) LWJ’s mother resulting in LXC and LWJ. And because mxtx sucks and didn’t bother naming her, and I don’t want to keep referring to her as “Lan Wangji’s Mother” because she was a person (fictional but still a person), I’m gonna use my personal hc name for her Qiu Baiti (丘百鹈). 

And I’m not saying that Qingheng-jun being a rapist is not a possibility, but I find that highly unlikely. I think there are some cultural assumptions that the fandom just isn’t aware of, and once and for all, I’m gonna set it straight. 

名节 ming’jie - a person’s “purity of sexual reputation” is seen as more important than life. Especially for a woman. And yes CQL is a fantasy drama so the rules are kind of wishy washy, but that being said, it does adhere to a lot of the traditional cultural rules, so I figure that mingjie still applies. 

Which means: If Qiu Baiti didn’t want to marry Qingheng-jun, she would’ve either tried to kill Qingheng-jun or killed herself before any of that could happen. It is absolutely a matter of life and death. I literally cannot count how many times women in cdrama commit suicide after they are raped just from the sheer shame of it. (I’m not saying this is what should be done, I’m just saying this happens in dramas.)

Potential counter-argument: but but but just because she married him doesn’t mean she necessarily agreed to sleep with him. 

Yes, sexual violence can exist in a marriage. No women owe their husband sex. Absolutely. I’m not disputing that. But in a traditional chinese marriage, sexual intercourse and provision of children are expected and essentially non-negotiable. Those two things go hand in hand. And Qiu Baiti had to have known that before she married Qingheng-jun, and if she was not down for it, again, she would’ve ended her own life than marry him. 

Potential counter argument: okay but didn’t their dad build a house separate for himself? Why would he do that? 

It was supposed to be a penance. For Gusu Lan, his wife had killed one of their elders. What he did was in direct confrontation with his entire sect. If he married her and then locked himself up with her under one roof….that’s not a penance, that’s just an extended honeymoon. So what he did was marry her to save her, and then punished himself by keeping distance from her. Is it stupid? Yeah. Does that make him a rapist? No. 

Someone once posed the question, damn why would Gusu Lan allow Qingheng-jun to have children with a woman who murdered their elder? Because traditional Chinese families are obsessed with babies, that’s why. There’s a literal saying 不孝有三，��后为大, which roughly translates to there are three ways to be un-filial, to have no children is the most egregious. And Qiu Baiti wasn’t his concubine, or his side chick, or some prostitute he hooked up with once. He was his wife. Only children born by her would be the most legitimate. And we know that Gusu Lan are all about decorum and courtesy and shit. 

So yeah they lived separately, but he could…walk…over…to her…house????? Like every once in a while. The Elders wouldn’t have said anything because well, they want heirs, and he already married her so ehh? 

The question is why do they have two? Now that’s the biggest questions. Could it be because Qingheng-jun was a fucking monster? Yeah sure. Or there’s something else going on here we don’t know. Maybe they found each other tolerable over time, maybe she liked him after all. Maybe she wanted two kids. Who knows? There are a ton of possibilities. 

Lastly, Lan Xichen told Wei Wuxian the story about their parents because he wanted Wei Wuxian to see how much Lan Wangji cared about him and wanted to protect him, that he was willing to be like their absent father and disobey the clan. And Lan Xichen isn’t some five year old child. Most of us as adults can reflect back on our parents’ relationship and realize huh….that was fucked up. 

Why would Lan Xichen compare his beloved little brother to a father they barely saw who may or may not have raped their beloved mother? Why would he do that? 

don’t @ me if y’all  just gonna continue being stubborn about this. block me instead. 

[aelowan]

The Parting Glass – A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

The wizard, Alerich Ashimar, ran a loving hand down the neck of the old guitar, chord after gently played chord resounding in softness, the mellow sound filling the dark music room. It wasn’t his rosewood-fretted Hummingbird beauty, hidden away in his rooms at Ashimar House in England, but the old Martin Dreadnought he had found still fit his hands well and was a joy to play.

“Of all the money that e’re I’ve had, I spent it in good company. And all the harm that e’re I’ve done Alas it was to none but me.”

“Alas it was to none but me.”

But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? His hands stilled on the strings and his thoughts pulled his gaze out the window to watch the snow fall in the bright moonlight.

He was a killer. A murderer from a painfully young age. He had helped his father, Magnus, to make sacrifices to the Demon Lord Arariel for years and it didn’t matter that he had been an unwilling accomplice, forced by beatings and blood to comply. He had still done it.

“And all I’ve done, for want of wit, To mem’ry now I can’t recall.”

Except he could. He remembered all of them. All of their faces, contorted in agony.

He remembered his father’s face as he fell backwards through the Demon Gate, pulling Arariel through with him. One, final, sacrifice for the sake of his family. Alerich folded himself over the body of the guitar, fighting a sudden surge of tears. Tears for his father. For himself.

Tears for his newly found freedom, forged by his father’s death. Freedom to be himself, to marry who he chose. To play this guitar without fear of mockery or beating because the piano was a more refined instrument. The guitar was for the low-brow.

Tears for his daughters.

Winter, his beloved Winter, was asleep upstairs, their newly conceived daughters warm in her still-flat belly. She¬—

A soft noise sounded from his left and he looked up, startled. Winter was standing in the doorway.

Alerich grimaced and stood as she entered, instinctively tucking the guitar against his leg and out of direct line of sight. “I apologize. I hope I didn’t wake you.” The powers that be knew she needed sleep, between the pregnancy and her responsibilities to the community as a physician and politician. Responsibilities he was only just beginning to comprehend.

Winter approached, wearing her warm white robe over his red pajama top. She saw no reason for the tops to go unused, as Alerich never wore them. Alerich thought it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen. She reached up and dried his cheek with her soft sleeve. “The sheets were cold. How long have you been down here?” She carried his robe over one arm and slipped it about his bare shoulders.

Alerich felt the warmth seep into his skin. “Long enough to not realize I was cold. Thank you.” He bent and gave her a light kiss.

Winter smiled into his kiss and then glanced down at the guitar. “I heard you playing. It was beautiful. I’ve seen you play piano, but I had no idea you also sang and played guitar.”

“It’s nothing, really.” Alerich moved to put the instrument away. “Just something I pluck at every now and then.”

Winter watched him closely and he could feel the whisper against his senses that told him she was using her soul reading. Sometimes she was not aware that she was doing it, it was simply another sense for her, but Alerich was fairly sure this was not one of those times.

He turned and held her blue-eyed gaze, so unlike his own. Angel eyes. “Really, it’s nothing.”

Winter closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms about his waist beneath his robe, her hands warm against his cold skin. “If it hurts you, it’s something. To me, if no one else. But you don’t have to talk about it unless you’re ready.”

Alerich bent his cheek to her soft white hair, silent for several long moments. When he spoke it was barely a whisper. “What sort of father will I be? Given the way I was raised,” the beatings, the control, the rapes, “I’m afraid that I’ll be a monster.”

Winter held him tighter and then met his gaze. “I only knew your father for a brief time, and you’re right, he was monstrous. He did terrible things and felt only resentment about them. Resignation. Until the end, when he saw a chance to break you and your sister and these little girls free of the demon’s influence. I think your father was a complicated man, and I think you are, too. But I also think, like your father, that you are not a man to let your past shape your future. If you want to be a good father, you will be. I have faith in you.”

Alerich’s eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over. “I miss him. Even after everything, I miss him.”

Winter nodded. “I miss my father, too. And I’m also still angry with him, and it’s something I struggle with. I don’t know if he loved me, and I may never know. But I do know your father loved you. Loved you enough to give you a chance at a better life the moment it came into his grasp. Have faith in that and know that you have that kind of love in you, too.” She smiled. “I can see it.”

Alerich’s tears ran down his cheeks and he buried his face in her long hair, trusting her. Trying to trust himself.

“So, fill to me the parting glass. Goodnight, and joy be with you all.”

Joy. Was it possible? Even for a man like him? He breathed in the floral scent of the woman in his arms. The woman welcoming him to this new and complicated life, and he hoped. Hope had been an elusive thing until now, but here, standing with this woman, the mother of his children, it flared small and fragile inside his chest. She believed that he could be the father he wanted to be. He carefully stoked that flickering flame of hope and allowed himself, at least tonight, to believe.

If you enjoyed this flash fiction, please check out aelowan.com for more free original short fiction and all things Seahaven.

[burmecianblackmage]

The Story of Skadi and Sceada

Over the course of 6 days, I have told @mafdet-goddess-of-rp-blogs the backstory of my character Sceada and as such, the story of his mother, Skadi. Initially, it was meant to help her pass a wait of 6 hours at work, but well... you all know I’ve never been good at keeping things short.

As a result we have here now an epic tale spanning roughly 20'500 words, written over the course of 6 days and covering a total of 48 years. The story features, besides my own characters, @burmecias-protector‘s Freya Crescent, and the father of @burmecianknight‘s Calisto Ganymede, Ser Acheron Ganymede.

As this story will contain some rather dark parts, I would hereby like to point out that the following are part of the story: Child Neglect/Abuse, Rape, Murder and Negativity. If you wish to avoid such topics, I ask you to please abstain from reading this story. My apologies 

And now, without any further ado, the collected story of Skadi and Sceada - I hope you’ll enjoy it! As always, comments are heavily appreciated!

Uhm, okay then... I guess in that case, we'll have to start in the Realm of Eternal Rain, Burmecia, with a revered noble Dragon Knight by the name of Lady Altheya Skadrson, a descendant of the legendary Dragon Knight Skadr.

As I said, she's part of Burmecia's nobility, and a Dragon Knight. Her family is in direct descendants of one of the greatest heroes of Burmecian History, and has a vast wealth. However, she is the last one of her family, the previous generation having been plagued with a number of untimely deaths due to a not further specified war, plus one of the woman unable to conceive a child.

That didn't stop Altheya though, from joining the most noble and likewise most dangerous profession of being a Dragon Knight. After all, all noble families reached their status due to the deeds of an ancestor or themselves on the battlefield as Dragon Knights.

In a way, you could say Altheya had it all: Fame, Wealth, a seat on the council that effectively rules the country alongside the King, and a ton of noble suitors looking to wed you for your status - what more could one want? 

Along comes a merchant from the outer reaches of the kingdom, by the name of Rainard Apate. His reputation is at best mixed, his success limited and he appears to have a slight gambling problem, somewhat obsessed with getting rich. And he is unexpectedly clever and cunning...

Clever enough, to pretend that he has no interest in becoming a suitor of Altheya, since "he'd not have a chance anyhow compared to all those nobles and rich men", and instead befriend her on a personal level.

To Altheya, it looks as though he genuinely likes her, that he loves her for who she is - but it is only a ruse. Rainard is, like everyone else, only after her wealth and status - he's just clever enough not to try and impress her with his own status or rank, and instead appeal to her lonely heart.

To the horror of her fellow council members as well as her other suitors, Altheya winds up marrying the lowly merchant - and he wastes little time putting the newfound status to use.

He starts involving himself in the council's work, both in Altheya's absence and by manipulating her, and it is only because they know what is happening, because she is well beloved by both nobles and commoners, that the Skadrson family doesn't fall from grace.

Meanwhile, Rainard is burning through their wealth, by hiring servants they don't really need, gambling, and generally living the sweet life he always wanted, all the while pretending to his wife that they were still well-off. That this all didn't cost as much, thanks to his incredible skills as a merchant.

And he secures his position by knocking Altheya up, having a daughter with her that they call Ephelia.

Ephelia was, in every sense of the word, a pampered and spoiled child. Her mother loved her dearly, considering her the greatest treasure in her life, and her father was eager to spend as much money on her as he could. And with a number of servants to cater to the infants every whim, it was no surprise that she became arrogant, demanding and unpleasant to everyone besides her beloved parents. 

Ultimately, however, this only helped drain their finances faster and faster, and by the time the kid turned 5, Rainard had put the once wealthy Skadrson household in deep debt - while still keeping it a secret from Altheya.

So what does a sleazy, amoral merchant that fears for his status do in such a situation?

For generations, the Skadrson family had held on to a nigh legendary armor, crafted from dragon scales that were said to have been obtained in a hunt by Skadr himself. Whether that was true or not, that knowledge was lost to time, but it was nonetheless true that it had been in the family's possession for generations - and it had been a tradition for the family head to wear it into battle. Altheya was no exception.

Rainard wound up exchanging that armor for a fake, and selling it to cover his debts.

And when the day came that Altheya headed into battle against a fearsome dragon, trusting in the armor to protect her from it's claws like it always had...

Ephelia was 5 years old when her mother, the honorable, beloved Lady Dragon Knight Altheya Skadrson, descendant of the legendary Skadr, head of house Skadrson, slayer of dragons and general of the grand army, fell in battle. And with her death, the Skadrson household fell apart night immediately. With nothing left to shield him from the council's scorn, Rainard was driven out of Burmecia, taking the girl with him. The mansion went into the council's possession, the servants were taken away and what meager rest of money had remained was confiscated as well. It was all the council could do, when it would have wanted to do so much more. But without any proof that Rainard was to blame for their beloved Altheya's death, there was no legal grounds for having the sleazy merchant decapitated - a regrettable circumstance, for if they had been able to do that, if they had been able to punish Rainard, Ephelia would have been raised by one of the other noble families - and spared everything that would come to pass...

For Ephelia, it is as though the world collapsed. Just 5 years old, she's lost everything she cherished, from her mother to their house, from the servants to their wealth and all they had bought her with it. Only her father remains, and now that his true colors have been revealed, he isn't the same either. He grows distant, negligent, scornful. Sometimes, he'll abandon Ephelia for days, even up to two weeks without notice, going on supposed trade tours to earn money. He never plays with her anymore, ignores her most of the time. The food she eats is often bad, unsuited not just for a former noble child, but for any growing child in general, and to the few people who know the small dysfunctional family it seems like a miracle that he never once beats her. No, he does not lay a single hand on her, and even sees to it that she always has at least one fine dress, no matter how poor they become - but the reason behind him doing so is far from fatherly love

Since ancient times, it has been known that names could hold power. Be it that knowing the true name of something granted you power over it, like some mages and cultures believed, or that a name of great repute could open many doors for one, be it that magic took form upon the call of it's name, there were many ways that names held.

Even if those names had fallen out of grace.

Rainard knew of this, was aware that his little daughter Ephelia still held value beyond anything he could ever achieve on his own, courtesy of her name: Skadrson. A new of legend, a name held by many a reputable warrior and hero, and a name that had held a place on the council of nobles for generations upon generations. And that, he found, made for a strong selling point...

It was shortly after Ephelia's 8th birthday that Rainard found an interested party, a wealthy merchant of ill repute that sought to sneak his way into the council and influence it to his benefit. Promising Rainard an exorbitant sum, he arranged for the girl to be brought to him, acquiring possession of her by legal means - while beating the sleazy merchant that once married a noble at his own gain, swindling him out of the majority of the sum.

Following this defeat, Rainard did not even attempt to retake his daughter, instead deciding to cut his losses. Without the girl, he had less expenses to cover, and was free to disappear - something he did without even as much as a farewell or goodbye to young Ephelia. Meanwhile, the merchant decided to put the eight-year old to good use, having her work for her living as one of his common maids. Be it tending to the stables or cleaning his property any menial task was good enough to keep her busy, and have her "earn" her food. For a child that once had it all, this was incredibly hard to endure - and yet still, it was but the tip of the iceberg.

Meanwhile, Ephelia's hatred of her father grew, causing her to wish to make him pay - and for that, she needed to get stronger. As Altheya's child, she had always been meant to one day be trained in the art of combat, but her father's sheltering had prevented her from learning from her mother directly. Gladly, coming to her new master's estate, she had been able to befriend a pair of guards. They may not have been Dragon Knights, but still were skilled fighters with the lance, and once she had seen them in action during an incidents with wild beasts attacking them, she was determined to learn from them instead.

However, 9 year old Ephelia would find herself rejected by the guards, the two of them afraid of their master's ire should he find out. After all, what if the priced possession were to get injured, hurt? They knew very well the consequences of damaging his property, and were not willing to risk it, both needing this job to survive - thus, Ephelia had to try and train on her own whenever she had a chance to, which unfortunately was not often, thanks to how busy she was being kept...

It is on the eve of her 11th birthday that things take an even direr turn for young Ephelia. By now, the blond-haired girl had become a young woman, both in appearance and body, signaling her master that the time to act upon his original plan had come at last. With the child now a woman, she would be capable of giving him what he truly wanted since the day that he bought her. 

Ephelia does not know what is happening to her when she is dragged to the master's chambers by the other maids and servants, something that had never happened before.

It is an hour later that they retrieve the girl from the chambers, crying bitter tears and her clothes torn, stained with specks of blood from what had happened behind closed doors.

From that day on, her owner would rape her countless times, at irregular intervals. Sometimes, he'd have her called to his room daily, even more than once if he so desired, while at others he'd leave her be for weeks, leaving the poor unfortunate girl guessing when he would next call upon her. Half a year would pass like that, with the servants keeping quiet about the matter and poor Ephelia forbidden from talking about it, the young girl left alone to face the horrible abuse, before she'd find allies.

The two guards, coming across her one day as she is being hauled out of the master's chambers, bleeding and crying, cannot believe the cruelty of his deeds. Taking pity on the child, they finally agree to do all they can to teach her how to defend herself, how to fight. They are unable to rebel against their master themselves, but by the gods, they would not stand by idly and just watch such atrocities unfold.

It is four years later, when Ephelia already has reached the age of 15, that her master grows displeased. Countless times he had raped the young woman, countless times had he tried to impregnate her, tried to get her to birth him a child that could legitimate his claim to the Skadrson name, and still nothing. He was starting to grow impatient, seeing his long term investment at risk, and decided to have her examined by a doctor.

The result was devastating.

Her womb had been scarred, a result of the continuous and unforgiving assault she had to endure for 4 years. Whether it was from gradually accumulating damage or had been caused on that first night was impossible to tell, nor could the doctor determine if her womb would have been healthy beforehand or if there already had been problems. Only one thing was certain:

Ephelia Skadrson was infertile, and she would never bear children.

Immediately, the young woman lost all worth and value in her master's eyes. Where she had been treated roughly before, she now was treated as lower than dirt, physical abuse replacing the sexual assault she had endured for four years. Hoping to at least get some use out of her still, the merchant saw fit to keep her still as a maid, seeing to it that she was only given the most degrading and disgusting tasks available.

Including being used by the male workers on the estate as an outlet for their lust.

Only two refused to degrade her like that still, just two remained that still treated her as a person, that cared for her: The two guardsmen, who intensified their efforts in training her, benefiting from the fact that now, Ephelia was no longer of interest to their master, his watch on her having ended.

One year. That is how long it took the three after that fateful day to complete the training, how long it took for the two guards to teach Ephelia all they knew. One year of enduring treatment that was harsher on her than any before had been. After all, while the abuse had been horrible, even causing lasting damage, she had at least been treated with some measure of care, being deemed valuable still. Now however, now she was worthless to them - oh how far had she fallen, she who had been born the daughter of Lady Altheya Skadrson... 

She would make them all pay for this.

It had been painfully easy to force her way into the master's chambers. After all, the two guardsmen that were meant to stop any attacker were her allies, and only too willingly turned a blind eye on her intrusion, even seeing to it that she would be undisturbed. 

 When she stood before him, the spear in her hand held low to the ground, the master, no, the spineless pig that had bought her from her worthless father, she was met with insults and slurs, the merchant calling her trash and trying to humiliate her with his words. But words could no longer touch her, not his, not those of any of the other servants and attendants, neither the women that had willfully turned an eye to her abuse, nor the men that had seen fit to degrade her, to use her, to defile her. 

 "You worthless, infertile slut, you piece of trash, you waste of effort, begone!" - Those were some of the words he had used to insult her, the words he sought to hurt her with. 

 They were to be his last words. 

 The first strike of her lance struck his nethers, mauling his dirty manhood with ease. The second strike followed soon after, so swiftly that he could not even scream in pain and agony, and drove deep into his throat, silencing his voice forever. And every strike that followed thereafter would cause the merchant excruciating pain, reducing him to a gurgling, wailing mass - and filling her with great satisfaction, before the final strike separated body and head, ending it all. 

With their master's death, there was no more resistance from the remaining workers, no attempt to avenge him. There were no complaints either when she declared that with this, the treasures and wealth the despicable man had amassed were hers to take. Together with her two allies, she would gather as much as they could carry, leaving behind the rest for the staff to divide among them as they saw fit.

It was the last time that young Ephelia Skadrson was seen in that town, never once returning to the place where she had been humiliated, defiled and abused ever again.

Following that day, Ephelia for the first time in her life found herself in charge of her own life. It was her decision where she would go, her decision what she would do, and above all, her decision with whom she wanted to be.

To her joy, the two former guardsmen had taken a liking to her, wishing to accompany her wherever she would head next. Perhaps it truly was their desire, what they wanted to do. Ephelia herself however believed it was their way of atoning for their sin of having allowed their master to rape a young girl for so long. In the end, the why didn't matter to her. She had found allies, and she would make good use of them, no matter which path she'd take in life.

But before she could think about the future, she had to find closure to her past.

For 8 years, Rainard Apate had not even so much as thought of the daughter he not just abandoned, but actively sold into slavery, putting her into a hell no child should ever endure. As such, it was no surprise that when the drunk, gambling-addicted merchant was approached by someone claiming Ephelia wanted to see him, he didn't even recognize her name.  No, this man was so despicable, that once he saw her, saw the blond-haired woman of 16 summers, he even saw fit to comment on her curvaceous figure and tried to hit on her - an act for which he would have been promptly impaled by two spears, had the guardsmen not been made to promise their companion that this man was hers to kill and hers alone. 

Much as she wanted him dead, she also needed answers - and for those, she needed him alive. For now. 

 Once she began to ask him about his former wife, about the riches he once owned, it had proven painfully easy to obtain said answers however. After all, this twisted, good-for-nothing despicable scumbag she once had called father, appeared to not only lack any remorse for his actions, no, he even seemed proud of them. "That armor was the finest thing I ever sold!", he even bragged, adding "Not even that stupid kid could fetch me a price like that!" in the process and sealing his fate. 

Revealing just who she was with her lance already drawn, Ephelia waited for realization to settle in the old merchant's mind, causing his eyes to look at her in unabated terror and fear. And that made it the perfect moment to cut his head clean off, right on the spot. 

This was to be the last act of Ephelia, the last time anyone would ever hear that name. For with the death of Rainard Apate, so too did Ephelia Skadrson cease to exist.

It is exactly 71 days after the wealthy yet despised merchant had been killed in his own bed-chambers and his estate abandoned, that a trio wearing lances on their back slowly marched through the streets of Burmecia, towards the seat of the council. The two males walking in the back were old soldiers, men that had fought in the grand army a decade ago, and resigned after the war that had claimed so many lives, including that of the head of house Skadrson. Though not seen in a long time, they were known faces, with old comrades greeting them here and there as they walked by. 

With the third one among their little band, matters were differently however. She was a young woman with blond hair and a stern gaze in her green eyes, one that seemed cold and unforgiving far beyond what one would expect on such a young person. She was too young to have fought in the last great war, to young to have seen the horrors of that conflict - and yet still she seemed as though she had seen things worse than anything a civilian could imagine. 

None dared stand in her way as she advanced through the streets, her hand clutching a hempen bag. 

It is not known just how she had convinced the guards in front of the council's halls to let her past, just how she had gained the right for an audience with the nobles ruling the country alongside the king, but she did. And so, she soon found herself standing in the middle of that hall, looking at the council's members one after another without a word.

Impatience started to grow amidst their ranks, when the young woman finally seemed to have found a member worthy of addressing, one she perceived as exemplary amidst their ranks. A young man, barely a couple of years her senior, wearing the familiar type of armor donned by Dragon Knights: Ser Ganymede.

Without a word, she tossed the bag over to him, landing on the desk in front of him - and in the process, slipping open and revealing it's content: The severed head of Rainard Apate.

"What is the meaning of this? Who is this man, what are you trying to achieve with this gruesome display?" Ser Ganymede's voice was demanding but calm, the young man not once flinching at the sight while others, more experienced men promptly seemed sick to the stomach at what present itself to them on that table. Some of them seemed to recognize the face however, turning to look at the young woman with a mortified expression. 

And that was when she began to speak.

"I am here to demand what is rightfully mine. To reclaim what was promised to you at birth. And in return, I offer you the head of the traitor that is to blame for the death of Lady Altheya Skadrson."

Needless to say, this demand threw the council into disarray. Some among their ranks would call out, demanding to know what gave her the right to be so insolent, demanding to know who she thought she was with angry voices. Others would lament the barbaric act of bringing a severed head to these halls, expressing disgust over the deed- And again others would insist that she'd be removed at once, questioning how she even gained entry into this meeting. 

There were just three that remained calm.

Ser Ganymede was among them, his eyes mustering the woman carefully, yet not demanding any answers just yet. The other two were elderly men, among the wisest of the council, and each with many a scar to tell about their many glorious deeds in battle. Men well respected among all who sat in the council, and the Realm of Eternal Rain as a whole.. And the only two in the room who understood exactly what was happening, who this was standing in front of them. 

"So Rainard has at last met his end..." "And at the hand of his own daughter, no less." "Indeed... I wonder, just what must have driven her to this, what did he do to deserve such an end?" "Perhaps the rumors I had heard some 8 years back are true after all..." "Yes, perhaps they are..." 

Ser Ganymede must have heard the two, getting up from his desk to join them and their conversation with the obvious question, his gaze still locked on the young woman. 

"What rumors, honored elders? What is it that you have heard, when I was still too young to hear it myself and understand it?" "Ah, Ganymede... Of course you would wish to know. You have always had a sharp mind and even sharper ears, after all." "There is no merit in hiding this from you, even more so when we cannot be certain that these rumors hold true, but allow us to explain..."

And so, they would tell the young man the story of the beloved Lady Altheya, and the cruel fate that befell her. How her husband had betrayed her trust, leading the family to ruin. How there were rumors of him being to blame for her death, having sold her armor, a priceless family heirloom and treasure of Burmecia as a whole. And of the rumor that some years later, after he had been driven out of the capitol, he had even sunk so low as to sell his only daughter, the last person to carry the legendary Skadr's blood, into slavery...

It took almost an hour for the council to calm, and it's members to compose themselves. Explanations were given, not by the young woman but by the council members themselves, a discussion quickly unfolding as she adamantly remained silent, observing what was happening - and being calmly observed by Ser Ganymede in turn. 

Quickly, it was established that this woman indeed had to be the last descendant of the legendary Skadr, and thus the rightful heir to the Skadrson house, but a consensus over just what that'd mean was difficult to reach. 

Returning the Mansion she had lived in as a child was not a problem, for it still stood where it always had, unclaimed by any other. But the name of Skadrson was hard to grant without any proof of her identity, and reinstating the family as noble? Or even granting her a seat on this council? No, that was going to far in the eyes of many, and out of the question. 

Ultimately, it was decreed that the young woman would receive both the Mansion and the right to call herself Skadrson, establishing herself as the rightful heir of Lady Altheya and a descendant of Skadr. Furthermore, she was to be enrolled in an elite course for aspiring Dragon Knights, one that was otherwise only reserved for nobles and their offspring - but her rank and status would not be reinstated. Neither a seat on the council, nor her nobility would granted, leaving her as nothing more than a commoner - yet also, as nothing less.

Only one among them had a question that did not relate to her demands or her deeds, only one sought to know who she was, and asked the question no other did. It was Ser Ganymede, still observing her with stern eyes. 

"Tell us, what is your name, heir to house Skadrson? What shall we call you?"

And while she turned around to leave, the young woman would offer her answer, speaking the name she had chosen for herself now that she had discard the name she had been given at birth:

"You may call me... Skadi. Skadi Skadrson." 

And while no other on the council thought so, Ser Ganymede already knew with certainty: That was a name, that would go down in the history of Burmecia. For the better... or the worse. 

Much as Ser Ganymede had expected, it did not take long for the name of Skadi Skadrson to gain fame - and infamy alike.

On one hand, she quickly excelled in her training, impressing both her mentors and her fellow trainees, outshining many of them. She showed not only great talent but also incomparable determination. She was a woman driven to prove herself, to prove her worth, above all else. Never again would she be deemed useless, worthless, trash - this she had sworn herself, and she was willing to do everything it took to reach her goals. 

Absolutely everything. 

Soon, rumors began to rise among some of the lower class officials, of a young blonde haired woman that was willing to trade her body for favors. Not that anyone could confirm these rumors, mind you. None wanted to admit that they had allowed themselves to be used like that, that they had given in to desire and allowed another to take advantage of them. A risky play, so much was for certain, but somehow, the woman had managed to make it work, had avoided getting into trouble, using the knowledge that she could never bear children to the fullest. 

And then, when she was just 17 years old, young Skadi achieved something that not even every Dragon Knight managed, even when working together with others, something outstanding and remarkable that would cement her status among the ranks: 

Skadi Skadrson slayed a Dragon in single combat.

From that point on, her influence and reputation steadily grew. Where initially, Skadi had but the two former guards that followed her, having become loyal comrades to the young woman, but following her triumph, her popularity increased greatly. Be it because they were awed by her strength or attracted by her beauty, the number of young men drawn to her seemed to grow by the month, and it was not long before Skadi had gained her own little unofficial platoon. 

And as her reputation grew, as she rose to fame, Skadi began to gain her own moniker. 

After the victory over the dragon, Skadi had been allowed to keep some of the scales - using her fortune, she had them forged into a set of armor befitting a woman that aimed to become a Dragon Knight, one fitting the color of her eyes, and reminiscent of the armor that once had belonged to her mother. And this armor, it inspired her followers in choosing her title:

The Praying Mantis

She is 20 years old when Skadi reaches her goal and is promoted to the rank of Dragon Knight. 15 years after her mother's passing, she stands where her mother once stood, a paragon among the warriors of Burmecia, renowned for her skill and achievements wide and far. No one remembers how a mere 4 years ago, she had still been nothing, a woman with nothing to her name but a simple lance that sought to prove herself as she returned to the kingdom's capital. 

Yet it is not only her skill that is renowned and well-respected, no. Her beauty has also become widely known, attracting suitors from varying rank, and she indulges many of them, even if only for a night. Her moniker holds true even here, for not unlike a praying mantis does she prey upon the men of the kingdom, offering them bliss and release in return for favors of all kinds, before abandoning them once they outlive their usefulness.  At least until she finds an use for them once more... 

But she wants more, wishes to rise even higher, obsessed with restoring the former glory and fame the name Skadrson once held. She wants to stand at the top, so no one could ever look down on her again and deem her worthless.

Over the course of the following four years, Skadi's influence grew further and further, fueled by both her fame and achievements as much as by her machinations and manipulations. The troops under her command had become known far and wide for their efficiency and prowess, their deeds heralded by the citizens and fellow soldiers alike. The name of the Praying Mantis had even reached the ears of the generals of other countries, earning her respect beyond the Realm's borders for both her tactical prowess and her skill in battle. 

Yes, the Praying Mantis had achieved much, and proven her worth countless times. 

But it was not enough to her. Constantly, she sought to increase her rank, striving for the titles her mother once held, obsessed with reinstating the house of Skadrson as a noble house, second only in power to the king himself. 

Or perhaps even above the King if possible... 

And in order to achieve this goal, any means were fine with her.

She had already proven numerous times that she was not above using her body to her benefit, and during the last four years, she had managed to seduce men in increasingly higher positions. Where it once had been her follow soldiers and her direct superiors, it had slowly moved on to Generals and Officials, until finally, she had managed to draw in her first noble. 

And from there on out, things started to fall into place nicely. 

Once she had charmed her way into nobility, she made use of favors to meet other nobles, getting acquainted with them and forming bonds to further her goals - and naturally, this often ended in the noble's bed, without their dear dear wives knowing. Her discretion had been the strong point in convincing them to mingle with her - and afterwards, it was what would fetch a high price in order to be kept intact. 

Her little system worked perfectly. With the nobles afraid of their wives finding out, they did not gossip about her, worried that any word could give them away, thus leaving her other potential targets blissfully unaware of her methods, allowing him to lure her in. And slowly but surely, she'd get the majority of the council under her thumb, attaining power akin to that of a noble while still being denied the rank herself.

There were only two she could not seduce, two that never gave in to her attempts at seduction, two that ultimately stood in her way. 

The first was, unsurprisingly, Ser Ganymede. The man had always been wary of her, not trusting her from the day she had shown up in the council hall. He was suspicious of her motivations and had a keen eye, noticing time and time again how she seemed just a tad too familiar with the other council members. He never confronted her about it, mind you, but even so Skadi knew fully well how he must have thought of her. 

A pity, really. For not only was Ganymede a handsome man and a paragon in both battle and politics, but he also was single - had he thought differently of her, perhaps he would have been a good man to marry one day. But this way of regaining her nobility would sadly not offer itself to her after all... 

Besides, even if a man like Ganymede were to choose her, she would not be able to bear him an heir, so she was inherently unfit for a noble family of such tradition...

The second one was, for lack of better words, an enigma to her. 

Sir Fratley was among the most valiant and revered Dragon Knights in the kingdom, and likely the only one she could not compete with, at least not yet. But he was a loner, prefering to be on his own rather than involve himself with people, He seemed absolutely uninterested in any of the noble women, so Skadi had hoped she might be more to his liking, but he kept brushing her off, acting distant and uninterested. 

Skadi would be lying if she claimed that this reaction did not insult her. 

But even so, there was nothing to be done, and so she had to give up on these two men, and settle for every other male nobleman on the council instead. Luckily, despite the considerable number of women holding seats, that still was a majority - one she knew how to use to her best interests.

Already was she a general and a Dragon Knight, and she had the council in the palm of her hand, but still the Praying Mantis craved more. To rise higher, to gain more fame, more influence, more power - and so she inevitably set her sights on the King. 

She expected him to be a challenge, someone difficult to get close to, with an unbending will. He could be the man that would not be afraid to punish her if her attempts at seduction fell flat, which could outright ruin everything she had worked towards. Furthermore, it would be difficult to be left alone with a man of his rank, to meet him without his guards present. 

But she wanted him all the same. She wanted the power he held, wanted to rise above all others - and he could give her that, if only she could get him. 

Skadi spent months preparing for the occasion, carefully selecting the favors from her noble lovers and pawns, manipulating the situation so she would be alone with the King. Getting the commanding officers of the guard to arrange for an opening, a moment when the King's guard would be away, long enough for her to work her charms, using her connections to the nobility to manufacture a reason why she had to meet the king, and again others to vouch for her during that brief period where she would be with the royal - she had thought of everything. 

As such, it was almost painfully disappointing when the King made it all too easy for her, practically welcoming her advances with open arms.

Having won the King's favor thus, Skadi began to make use of this new connection nigh immediately. Initially, she did not even need to threaten the king with revealing his infidelity, ratting him out to the queen, as he seemed to see her as his current mistress, making things easy. She quickly obtained information, which she in turn managed to use to further her position within the army. Before, she had been left out of certain matters, the nobles making it a point not to involve her in some of the more secret - and worthwhile - matters, keeping her as far away from them as they could. But now, now she was one of the first to learn of such matters, directly from the King himself during their more or less frequent meetings. Suddenly, Skadi Skadrson was a woman who could receive an official audience with the King with as much ease as a noble - if not with more. 

And while the nobles were distraught about this development, Skadi's reputation and fame among the troops only grew and grew...

It was not a big surprise when a year later, Skadi was thus chosen to be the one that would investigate a curious artifact that had entered into the Realm of Eternal Rain's possession, the King trusting her to unravel it's secrets and use it to the best of her ability and conscience.

At first glance, it was an unsuspecting, ordinary small thing, like so many other things beside it were. But if one figured out it's secrets, it was bound to be special, extraordinary - and would allow the user feats that would be impossible for mere mortals. Or so they said. 

It took Skadi all of 17 days to unravel the secret, and discover that these rumors were true, while at the same time not doing the artifact justice. The little oddity allowed it's user to travel to other worlds, opening a plethora of new horizons to explore.

The first few worlds the 25 year old Skadi visited had little to offer her. As a Burmecian, she was instantly treated as an outsider and not welcome, and the respective cultures were of little interest, rendering her stays short. Upon her returns, she would report to the king personally - in his private chambers, no less - and each time be granted the right to undertake another venture. 

Eventually, she wound up in a place called Ishgard. The people there were at first distrusting of her, deeming her an outsider and a danger, yet even so, Skadi was fascinated by them. Another culture that held a tradition of lance wielding warriors, capable from jumping to the highest heights, with their sworn goal being to fight against dragons? 

There was nothing she couldn't love about this, nothing that could make her feel more at home. 

Initially, it was difficult to win their trust, the Ishgardians naturally suspicious of anyone outside their walls. But once Skadi showed her prowess with the spear, slaying an attacking dragon by herself, she was welcomed among them. After all, a Dragon Knight was a welcome help in the Dragoon's Battles, especially if they were as skilled as the Praying Mantis was.

Skadi stayed in Ishgard for two months, reveling in the joy of battle and the thrill of facing dragons on a nigh daily basis. Eventually, she found the remains of a long lost Dragoon, complete with his armor, diary and, most importantly, his spear. A spear of mystical proportions, blessed with a truly unique ability as she learned from the dying man's last words in his diary. 

Brionac - a legendary weapon forged in the blood of dragons, capable of stealing dragon's soul and feeding upon them. 

When the Ishgardians demanded she'd hand the spear over to them, claiming it to be a national treasure, Skadi promptly left Ishgard behind, returning to Burmecia.

Upon her return, Skadi found herself replaced by the king, the monarch even refusing to grant her an audience even, not to speak of a private meeting. A new mistress had taken her place, the King having been unwilling to wait so long for her return. 

Needless to say, the Praying Mantis was furious, and she was not willing to hide her anger. 

Using her contacts among the nobles both for physical comfort as well as information, she sought to discover which harlot had taken her place, wishing to confront them. She wanted to scare them away, claiming the King as hers and hers alone. 

It is not known what happened after that, what Skadi did or did not do. All that we know is that the king's mistress, a young girl of barely 16 winters, was found three days later, bruised and beaten. The poor girl had been treated roughly to the point of eventually succumbing to her injuries and the pain, and showed clear signs of having been defiled by a large number of perpetrators. Some even claimed that at least one of her assailants must have been non-Burmecian, judging by her injuries. And on top of it all, on top of this gruesome sight, her left hand had been cut off. 

The hand on which she had worn a simple armband, an armband that the King had gifted to his mistress...

From this point on, Skadi had to convince the king to indulge in meetings with her, as well as to grant her favors. But it was a rocky road now, the King displeased with the loss of his mistress, and the way the Praying Mantis sought to use him - and so, he ordered her to undertake another mission, another journey to another world. One, that would last half a year. 

It was only on the condition that he would grant her a private audience upon her return that Skadi did agree.

Ivalice was a curious place, one unlike any she had seen before. A myriad of races mingled here, from the Viera to the Seeq, from the Bangaa to the Hume, and though her kin was not native to the land, the people did not question her presence, accepting her as she was when she claimed to be a traveller from a far away country. 

She was welcome, for the first time in her life. 

Needless to say, she enjoyed her time there. She was still an outsider to a degree, her ruthless and cold nature driving the people around her away from her after a short time, but it still was a welcome change that no one despised her or looked down on her. And eventually, she even made a friend.

Ma'Chymes was a Nu Mou, a vaguely canine race whose bodies and strength paled in comparision to a Burmecian's tall stature, but compensated that with peerless intellect and a penchant for magic - an art that her kind was entirely incompatible with, a talent that no Burmecian held. He earned his living as an Alchemist, mixing myriad kinds of concoctions for people to buy, while also experimenting on his own accord. 

Normally, it would have been unlikely for the two to find common ground, being such complete opposites. But when Skadi saw how harsh and unforgiving the Nu Mou treated his assistant and servants, and how he was not above using any means available to achieve what he desired, she could not help but feel a certain kinship. 

Against all odds, the two grew fond of each other and their methods relatively quickly, even working together to an extent. Ma'Chymes would offer her a place to stay and information about this world, and Skadi would assist him by hunting for ingredients that were difficult to come by and nigh impossible to obtain on the bazaar. It was a fruitful time, for both of them, and eventually, it culminated in a raw, physical relationship. 

After all, with her being infertile, what reason would she have to be careful, to take precautions or otherwise hold back? Ma'Chymes might not have been a man whose favors would benefit her once she returned, but she could always simply do things for her own enjoyment, and enjoy him she did.

It was not to last however. The end of the six months she had been given was steadily aproaching, and Skadi would soon need to return to Burmecia. Not that she told Ma'Chymes as much, mind you. It was her own business where and when she'd go, and likewise it was her business when she'd leave. Her current lover need not know such things, he'd find out soon enough anyhow. 

Alas, as it so often is when a despicable person mingled with another despicable person, it was not just one of them who kept things from the other and worked towards their own secret agenda. And whereas Skadi only planned to abandon the male without a word, Ma'Chymes had bigger plans for the female. 

Most alchemists would sell simple concoctions, like salves and ointments, or perhaps select tonics that increased one's vitality for a while, or kept you awake more efficiently than mere coffee ever could. And they would be able to get by with just that. Ma'Chymes was different, however. He wanted to make it big, to achieve wealth and fame, and he knew exactly how he would reach this goal.  After all, he knew fully well what kind of concoctions certain people would pay a veritable fortune for...

Fertility drugs had always been a popular product, no matter the stigma around them and the fact that they were prohibited by the laws of this land - a law, so Ma'Chymes felt, that was utterly unfair und unneeded. Many a couple needed help to conceive a child after all, and would pay good money for something that'd ensure results. There was nothing wrong with wanting to help such people, now was there? No, helping them was a just action, and one that paid well. Desperate couples would willingly shell out any amount of money - even more so when they were of different species, and not supposed to breed together in the first place... 

So what if such a drug could be misused to breed horrible abominations, so what if it could be used to force a woman to bear the child of a beast? That didn't matter to him. So long as he'd be paid, he couldn't care less about how his drug would be used or the possible results. 

And so, the Nu Mou had been working on an extremely potent fertility drug for years - and now, now was the perfect time to test it on a species he was not familiar with. The tests with his assistants could only get him so far after all, and finding willing tests subjects for forbidden research was nigh impossible. As such, the appearance of this Burmecian had been an absolute blessing... 

For if he, Ma'Chymes the Nu Mou, could make Skadi Skadrson bear his child thanks to this drug he created, then he would be able to sell this mixture for a small fortune per vial.

On the night before Skadi's departure, the amoral Nu Mou Alchemist would set his plan into motion, unaware that his test subject was about to leave soon. Using the strong wine they always were drinking together, it was more than easy to mask the drug he spiked her glass with, leaving the Burmecian entirely unaware of his plans. After all, what good would telling her do? He did not need her consent, did not want it - he wanted results instead, and he could not risk her denying him. 

And in case it did not work just yet, he could always pretend nothing happened and try again with the next mixture. 

Once she had unknowingly consumed the fertility drug, the Nu Mou would waste no time and immediately begin to push the Burmecian towards having sex with him, over and over again, before sleep would claim them both in the morning hours. 

And through the course of the night, he'd cum inside her countless times...

In the morning, the Alchemist would awake to find the woman gone, having left as soon as she had awoken, never to be seen by him again. He would curse and lament this turn of events, disappointed over having lost this valuable test subject and the possibility of seeing the results of the experiment. Was it a success? Was it a failure? He'd never know, and that fact would gnaw at him for years to come.... 

And Skadi? Skadi is 26 years old when she returns to Burmecia, carrying with her a wealth of knowledge about Ivalice, some gifts for the king - and unbeknownst to herself, her unborn child deep within her womb...

Unlike when she had returned from Ivalice, the King was actually glad to see Skadi return this time, honoring his promise of a private audience and listening with great interest to her stories about this strange land. Apparently, he had been unable to find a satisfying mistress in her absence, and his Queen had refused his advances, so he was eager to indulge himself with the Praying Mantis once again. 

And he would not be the only man to do so. 

With her having been gone for half a year, it had become a necessity in the Praying Mantis' eyes to visit the most valuable of her contacts again, working through them one by one and reminding them just why they had mingled with her in the first place. She was good in what she did, and eager to reestablish her position - so much so, that it took her multiple weeks to realize that something was wrong, something was different.

The news hit her unexpected and heavily. For years, she had been living in the knowledge that she could never bear children. For years, she had suffered under the memory of being called useless and worthless due to this flaw. She had been beaten and abused, used against her will and treated like dirt, all because she would never give birth to an heir. 

Suffice to say, it felt as though the world as Skadi knew it had just been shattered. 

It took the Praying Mantis weeks to get to terms with what had happened, and to decide on how to proceed. And eventually, her decision was set: Her child would inherit the Skadrson name, and continue to bring honor and fame to the family, restoring it to the noble status it once held. Her child would become an exemplary Dragon Knight, surpassing all that came before it, and be the pride of her life. 

And in the meantime, she'd ensure that it would have every opportunity to succeed in this world, that it would receive the best training Burmecia had to offer.

With 27 years and roughly 3 months, Skadi Skadrson gave birth to a healthy boy, giving him the name Freyr Tyr Skadrson. 

The first few months fly by like a breeze, with Skadi taking her time trying to look after the child. Soon however she realizes that she is not good at handling such a tender creature, the crying quickly getting on her nerves and the clinginess of the boy annoys her. As soon as she can, the boy is given to a maid instead, tasking her with taking care of the child. She will be the only one to ever show the unfortunate kid any form of love...

Rumors quickly develop about the mother unable to love her child, the mother who only sees her heir as a tool to reach her goals, as means to further her ambition. And indeed, the young mother is quick to exploit the boy's birth in her interest, making good use of the fortunate timing of his birth. 

After all, the boy had been born a good nine and a half months after her return, and as such, he could be the offspring of anyone she slept with during that time - absolutely anyone. Neither the nobles nor the King are from there on out safe from her, Skadi threatening to "reveal" that the boy was fathered by them whenever a noble dares to not follow her whims.

But it is not all for her own gain that she does, no, indeed she tries to do things that she believes to be in her son's best interest as well. But they are not truly good for him, are only catering to her vision of him - and wind up hurting the child more than she'll ever truly understand. 

Freyr Tyr's early years are blessed by wealth, and cursed by the lack of a loving mother. He has no friends to play with as he grows, and the servants only care for him as much as they are ordered to, avoiding he boy whenever possible. Just like his mother does, even going so far as to take a new position as instructor to fledgling Dragon Knights. 

Quickly, she gains a reputation for being harsh and unforgiving, for being the kind of teacher that does not forgive mistakes easily and demands more from the young aspirants than they can offer. Many of them crumble under her guidance, unable to keep up. "Weaklings", she claims, "Unfit to bear the title of a Dragon Knight of Burmecia", and thus unfit to attend her lessons anyway.

Some do not give up though, becoming mighty soldiers over the years, soldiers that are fiercely loyal to the Praying Mantis, and that would do anything to gain her favor - and eager to be called to her bedchambers, blissfully ignoring the fact that she has a son, that he is merely a couple of rooms away from them when they satisfy the needs of their Lady. 

Besides those loyal to her and those who give up, only a select few others remain. Cadets that show the potential to become Dragon Knights, but refuse to endure Skadi's cruelty and choose another mentor. They are to her both the most disappointing and the most respected candidates, for they prove the ability to do whatever they need to in order to succeed, even if it means falling out of her favor. One among them that particularly impresses the Praying Mantis is a young, silver-haired woman from the Cresecent family, going by the name of Freya - the day that she decides to choose Sir Fratley over her is one that saddens Skadi greatly.

By the age of five, Freyr Tyr  Skadrson was granted a spot at the most prestiguous and renowned school for aspiring Dragon Knights that Burmecia had to offer. 

The school normally only accepted nobles, being proud of the exclusivity and quality it stood for, and produced some of the finest warriors in the history of the Realm of Eternal Rain. Yet, even so, the son of a commoner, an usurper, an intrigant a ruthless warrior, was chosen to attend the school, in place of several noble children. 

From the start, this made Freyr Tyr an undesired party, despised not only by his peer's parents, but also his peers themselves. He was the boy that was to blame for their friends being denied a place at the school, and they knew it. Their parents made certain of that. And it was only going to get worse as time went by...

Perhaps it would have been fine if the boy performed well, if he proved himself to be an outstanding talent, much like his mother had. But Freyr Tyr was anything but a talent.

In fact, the boy was a disappointment from start to finish. He couldn't keep up with the physical exercises, lagged behind when it came to handling weapons, showed no talent handling neither spear nor knife or sword. The teachers quickly grew tired of this failure, wishing to get rid of him, but finding themselves unable to, with different nobles interjecting each time the topic came up. The students saw him as a waste of space, wanting to replace him with their friends but being powerless in getting him to leave. 

But most devastatingly, Skadi herself started to grow tired of her son's constant failure, berating him time and time again - and eventually turning to disciplining, to punishing him even. 

The boy was devastated. He kept trying his best, but nothing ever seemed good enough. No matter what he tried, he couldn't succeed, couldn't satisfy his mother's expectations - but even so, he never gave up. Because, after all... if he succeeded, then surely, mother would praise him, no, mother would love him even!

Freyr Tyr began to push himself more and more, in every aspect he could. He pushed himself during exercises, pushed himself in weapon training - and in trying to make friends as well. And more and more days would end with the boy coming home with bruises from the daily growing number of defeats he'd suffered.

It continued for three more years like that, before things at last escalated.

Trying once more to befriend fellow students, Freyr Tyr one day approached a girl from a noble family that stood out among others, one who had grown especially exasperated with this fool, and sought to finally end this. They were just wrapping up weapons training when he approached her, wearing that same stupid smile as ever, when she saw an opportunity. 

Whether it was sheer luck or a small glimmer of his reflexes having improved at least a little bit, one could not tell. But whichever of the two it was, it had allowed the boy to turn to the side and throw his right arm in front of himself, preventing the dagger from reaching his chest as intended. 

 It was in that moment that Freyr Tyr Skadrson finally understood that he would never make any friends among his fellow students. That he would never have any friends here in Burmecia.

The realization that he'd never be accepted by his fellow students hit the boy hard. All his life he had wanted nothing more than to find friends, to find people that cared about him, that were happy for him to be around - and for an 8 year old boy, that was a terrible realization to make. 

What even was left to him then anymore, in this Realm of Eternal Rain? What could he still believe in when the only thing that offered him any comfort was the rain? He would always be alone, would never be cherished by those around him. 

There was only one person left whose love he could hope to gain, whose affection he could strife to earn. 

If only he could prove his worth, if only he could show that his legs had the strength needed to be a Dragon Knight, if he could prove that he was not a lost cause, then maybe, maybe Mother would be satisfied. Maybe she'd even praise him, tell him he did well - Oh, he so hoped she would, he so wanted to believe that he could yet find some meaning in his young life - and in his despair, in his delusional state, he felt he knew exactly what he needed to do. What was the only thing left he could do.

Long since has it been tradition that the legendary warriors of the days of old would be immortalized with enormous statues. Since ancient times this practice had remained, with each statue being considered sacred by the inhabitants. Among them were kings of old, warriors of unparalleled deeds and most of the founding fathers and mothers of the noble houses. 

It was only natural and fitting that there would be a statue of Skadr, the legendary Dragon Knight and progenitor of House Skadrson. 

It did not go without a certain irony that young Freyr Tyr would choose that very statue as the scene for his last, fateful attempt to impress his mother. Climbing onto the sacred statue, he planed to jump off from the head, reaching as high above the ground as he never had before. If he could do this, if he could land this jump standing and prove that his legs were strong enough, then surely, surely Mother would...!! 

Clinging onto this believe, the 8 year old boy closed his eyes and jumped.

Freyr Tyr would awaken several hours later, his head drowsy from the medicines that had been administered to him in order to dull the pain at least somewhat. His legs had been badly injured, some rumors even claiming that they had been shattered, and the boy could not feel them anymore. A blessing, perhaps, given their state. And thankfully, the coming weeks would show that it had been due to the medicines, and not due to lasting, irreversible damage. 

Not that there wasn't no such damage, oh no, there definitely was. His legs had been injured terribly, and while there was hope he would walk again, there was one thing that the doctors were already certain of, one question that left no room for doubt: 

"Lady Skadrson, We... we are afraid to say so, but... your son... he... the damage to his legs is so severe, that he... he will never... Your son will never be a Dragon Knight." 

Throughout the entirety of his stay at the hospital, the Praying Mantis spoke not a single word to her son. And when she heard the terrible diagnosis, reacting with a sharp, unforgiving glance full of disappointment and disgust, it was likewise the last time that Skadi Skadrson would ever look at her own flesh and blood, offering only four single words in response, four words that could not be more devastating: 

"I have no son."

While her son, no, while that boy was still recovering in the hospital, Skadi saw herself confronted with the aftermath of his folly. Not only had he caused an incident at the school, disturbing one of the most influential daughters with his advances, forcing her to be blamed for his behavior as well, but he had also dared to climb the statue of her ancestor, a blasphemous act that desecrated the glorious memory of her progenitor. 

As if it had not been enough of a burden having to excuse his myriad shortcomings in his training already... 

She had grown tired of this. Tired of this failure that called himself her son. He was an embarrassment, a blemish upon the proud Skadrson name, and her patience had at last run thin. But then again, she had known from the day the boy was born that he would likely never live up to her expectations... 

She had known it from the moment she had seen those sapphire blue eyes.

While there had been men with blue eyes among her paramours, none of them were of a shining brilliance that she had seen in just one single man. A man that she had not seen for 9 years, and that she did not wish to remember: Ma'Chymes, the Nu Mou Alchemist. 

That sleazy amoral scumbag... just what had he done to her, which wicked concoction did he slip into her drink in order to enable this unfortunate outcome?  

While she had initially been happy to bear a child, hopeful of the potential it would promise, said hope had quickly proven to be naught but an illusion. Instead of a capable son worthy of inheriting her name, and her mother's name before her, she had been riddled with this utter disappointment of a child, this useless failure that had been nothing but a burden for eight long years. Well, no more. 

Skadi Skadrson, the Praying Mantis, had no use for a worthless failure.

I have no son - Those had been the last words that the boy had heard from his mother's mouth, and they had not even been directed at him in the slightest. Since that day, it had been several weeks, almost two months even., and he had not seen her just once since. His wounds had mostly been treated since then, the feeling having long since returned to his legs. It would not be long before he'd be capable of walking without pain again - but what good would that do? What for should he still stand up even? There was nothing left for him... 

He doesn't even know how right that assessment was, how correct he was in saying that there was nothing left for him here anymore. 

For on that very same day, Skadi Skadrson would visit the King again - and make a request most unreasonable and cruel, coating it in words that the King could not ignore, leaving him with no other choice. 

"Your majesty, you have but two options. Either you do as I asked of you, and thus rid both yourself and me of this problem... or you refuse, and leave me no choice but to tell the Queen that the boy is yours. I wonder, how would she feel if she learned that her own son, that the Prince of Burmecia, had an illegitimate older brother...?" 

The decision he had to make on that day would haunt the King for many nights to come, leaving his sleep restless. For even if he had no choice, he could still not forget just how wrong and unjust a decision it was...

On the day that Freyr Tyr Skadrson was to be released from the hospital, capable of walking on his own again without pain, two armored guards were waiting for him at the exit. He was to follow them, so he was told, and that his questions would be answered once they got there. He wanted to know if they were his mother's men. He received no answer as they escorted him, drawing curious and concerned glances from the bystanders as they walked through the streets. 

For any other child, these looks would have been frightening, would have alerted them that something was wrong, but for the boy, it was nothing unusual. After all, he was the child of one of the most despised woman in the country, even if no one dared show their dislike of her openly, instead politely cowering in fear of the consequences. 

It was only when the arrived at the court building that the boy begins to worry, confused as to why anyone would lead him here. Had he done something wrong? Or had something happened to his mother? Freyr Tyr just simply did not know, could not tell - and that filled his little heart with fear. 

Nothing good would come from this, he was certain of that - and he would soon find out just how right this gut feeling was...

The boy was promptly after arriving put on trial, and at first, he did not understand just why or what for. He hadn't done anything wrong, no? He... he didn't break any laws, didn't hurt anyone, so why, why was he here? And where was his mother? Why was she not here to protect him, while these men spoke of treason and exile, of things he did not understand in the slightest right now. 

And then he saw her. 

The Praying Mantis was standing right next to the man that supposedly was the judge, speaking with them. They seemed unwilling to do what was asked of them, considering it too cruel, too unjust, but Skadi left them no choice, insisting on the act. 

When she next turned around and walked away, it was the last time that the boy saw his mother - and she would not even look at him...

When the judge then turned to him again, Freyr Tyr could have sowrn he saw tears welling in his eyes, and the he heard the man's voice falter and shake ever so slightly, but that would not offer the child any comfort, would not change the terrible verdict that was imparted upon him with his words: 

"Freyr Tyr Skadrson... You are hereby to be exiled from Burmecia on the charge of suspected High Treason against the King. You will forfeit your name and birthrights, and forbidden from ever returning to the Kingdom. And furthermore... you will be forced to bear the mark of a traitor... Guards, see... see to it that he... that he receives the mark posthaste..." 

The boy cannot believe his ears, but his body is soon made to remember the words forever. For the guards, though struggling with the task imparted on them.  

When the needle pierces the skin of his lower left arm, painting the hated sigil underneath it with burning, blood red ink, the cries of the poor boy could be heard reverberating within the entire court house, causing both the guards and the judge nightmares for many weeks to come. 

When he had entered the building, he had been Freyr Tyr Skadrson of Burmecia - yet when the boy left it, he was but a nameless soul without a home or a place he belonged to, never to return again after they brought him to the border and tossed him out of the country.

For the boy, now bereft of a name, rough times began that day. With nowhere to go, no one to turn to, he was reduced to wandering alone, with no goal or purpose. Eventually, he wound up in a small border town, not far from Gizarmaluke's Grotto and thus, the border between Lindblum and Burmecia. The town was ordinary at first glance, just a small town like many others near borders, that survived courtesy of the trade between nations. But that was only at first glance... 

In truth, this town was deeply torn between two factions that could not have been more different. On one hand there were those who profited from the trading, amassing riches and wealth. More often than not, they tended to be fat, well-nourished - and incredibly arrogant about their status, constantly looking down upon those not as fortunate as them. 

The second group was full of such people. Men and women who did not profit from the trading, instead even losing their meager wealth and homes, ending up as little more than beggars. They suffered hunger nearly every day, with even those few who had a job barely able to feed themselves and their families. 

Poverty and wealth, so clearly separated and yet still living next to each other. Truly, it was a town torn into two factions - and certainly not a place fit for a young Burmecian boy with neither name nor money.

From the very beginning, the boy was an outsider. In a town were Burmecians were at best a rare sight, he was quickly labelled as different, with the preconceptions ranging from him being weird to dangerous, the insults ranging from worthless trash to piece of crap all the way to street rat. And without anyone to turn to, nor any money to purchase food, it wasn't long before the boy learned what it meant to be hungry. Truly hungry. 

He was close to starving when he finally figured out what he had to do in order to survive. 

He was not proud of it, but when he for the first time managed to steal a piece of bread and then bit into it, any shame over the act was quickly forgotten. Who would have ever thought that a simple piece of bread could taste so heavenly...!! 

It was shortly thereafter that the boy was approached by another young man living on the streets, perhaps a year or so older than him. He introduced himself as Gunthar, and offered to work together with the Burmecian when stealing food - that way, they would hopefully never suffer hunger again!. 

It sounded too good to be true, but the eight year old boy didn't care. For the first time, it seemed as though he could make a friend, as though someone actually cared for him and his presence. 

He was willing to do nigh anything for that chance. 

"Great! Guess that means we're partners now, ... uhm... What was your name again?" "...I don't have one..." "No name? Fine, then how about I just call you... Mousey?" "That's fine by me..." 

And so, Gunthar and Mousey took to the streets, trying to make their way in this unforgiving border town and survive...

Their method was simple and most of the time, quite effective. One of the two would distract their target, sometimes even pretending to be the thief going after the food they carried with them, while the other used that moment to swipe some food or perhaps even the whole bag from them. It didn't work every time, and it often ended with the decoy taking a beating. But they always shared evenly, and was enough to keep them fed on most days, and that was all they could ask for. 

At least, that was what the Burmecian boy believed, being content with having a friend now for the couple of months this lasted.

It was right after a heavy dry spell they had to endure, where both the wealthy merchants and their guards had grown more alert to the activities of the beggars and street rats, resulting in several days without any food whatsoever for young Gunthar and the Burmecian. Driven by their hunger, they soon saw fit to be a bit more daring in how they chose their targets, taking bigger risks - they had been forced to do so a few times already, but this time, it was truly dire. 

And so, they decided to brave the risk - and targeted a fat, wealthy merchant that very obviously carried a knife with himself. A knife, so they knew, that he was not afraid of using to get rid of beggars and thieves... 

But what other choice did they have at this point? They needed to survive, neither of them willing to die of hunger. 

The Burmecian boy was set to play the decoy, and try rather obviously to snatch the bag with food from the merchant. And as expected, he was promptly greeted with a backhand slap across his face, causing him to fall back and onto the ground. 

The perfect moment and opportunity for Gunthar to strike - or so he thought, at least. 

For this time, the merchant was anticipating the second move, and instead of beating on the Burmecian grabbed the human boy, immediately setting about beating some manners into the scoundrel. 

For the Burmecian, this was an unexpected and welcome opportunity unlike any that had ever presented itself to him before. Snagging the bag with the groceries, he made a dash for it, fleeing the scene. Surely, like always, he and Gunthar would be able to meet up at their usual spot afterwards, and there they could share the spoils...

When Gunthar would later come round to their usual spot with a number of bruises, the Burmecian would await him with a smile, happy that finally, they'd get to eat again. But he is the only one happy, for Gunthar is anything but - he is furious. 

And his mood does not improve when his young companion hands him the stolen bag with groceries, letting the older divide the spoils like he always did. 

"That is all? That is all!? No way. Where are you hiding the rest? Did you eat it all already, you dirty rat?" 

"But... but what are you saying, Gunthar...? This is all... I would never... I'd never betray you... we're always sharing evenly, so..." 

"So you're trying to tell me that I got beaten up for this? Are you trying to mess with me? You stinkin RAT!" 

"Gunthar, please, don't.... don't call me that... We... we've got beaten up for much less before, so why..." 

"We? No, YOU! You have always taken the beatings, you always were the one beaten up. Like you should be!"

It is on this sorrowful day that the Burmecian learns what had really been going on all along these couple months. 

Where he had believed Gunthar to be his friend, the two of them equally sharing both the burden and the spoils, he had really only been used all along. Gunthar had seen his opportunity, deciding to use the poor boy to take the beatings for him while he secured the spoils - and to add insult to injury, he would always make certain to eat his fill before dividing up the remains once the bruised Burmecian would show up. 

But now that he had taken a beating himself, Gunthar had grown tired of this arrangement. After all, Mousey was only useful to his schemes as long as he unknowingly played along so nicely. But a rat boy that knew what he was doing? A street rat that could possibly refuse to take the beatings for him? 

Such a rat was useless to him. And Gunthar had no time for anything useless.

When Gunthar drew a knife, one he had hidden from the Burmecian for months now, his intent is clear even without him calling him a street rat and worthless trash. Moving in to kill the younger boy, the human lad tried to cut deep into his flesh, but manages only a shallow cut on his cheek, just deep enough to draw blood. 

It will be this failed first attack that ultimately leads to Gunthar's downfall, for it allows the shocked Burmecian to properly realize the situation. His friend had not been a friend at all, betraying him all along, and now he wanted to kill him... - But he could not let him, he could not die here. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could yet settle this peacefully... 

But such was not to be. 

Gunthar's next attack sees him lunge forward, aiming to stab the Burmecian in the chest, but he is able to dodge it, turning to the side just in time for Gunthar to stumble past him. This in turn prompts the human boy to turn around sharply, yanking the knife up in the air, aiming to swing it down at the younger lad with due force. The strike is blocked when the Burmecian recalls fragments of his training, grabbing his attackers wrist, and the knife comes lose. 

And then, everything happens much too fast. 

Letting instinct and reflexes acquired from his training guide him, the lad swiftly grabs the knife - and promptly rams it into the slightly taller male's throat, dealing a fatal wound. Blood spills forth, splattering across the boy's face, the warm sensation serving to drag him back to reality just in time to look at what he had done in utter schock and disbelief. 

Just in time for a surprised Gunthar to breathe his last, stertorous breath... 

After this horrible experience, the boy was once again alone. No one wanted anything to do with him, no one wanted to be anywhere near him. After all, not only was he a rat, but he also had blood on his hands now. Mingling with him would only bring about tragedy, and the life on these streets was hard enough as it was already... 

No, this boy was surely more trouble than he was worth, and so, it was safest to stay far away from him. 

The Burmecian would thus live his days lonely, day by day, slowly despairing over what purpose he still lived for - until unexpectedly, a meaning comes along, and with it, an unexpected opportunity. 

He is 9 winters old when he comes upon a dispute between fellow beggars. A group of four teenaged ruffians that apparently had been incompetent in securing enough food for themselves, and now sought to steal it from two younger kids, bullying and terrifying them. 

And while he does not know just why, he cannot help but wish to protect them, throwing himself in between.

Unsurprisingly, throwing himself in the middle of a confrontation like this was far from being a good idea. Not only did it not take long for the teenaged boys to target him, but the two younger children that he had wished to protect also were afraid of him, his foreign appearance frightening them more than the four bullies were. Not only was the Burmecian so different from them, but they also had heard the rumors about him, of how he had blood on his hands and killed another child in cold blood - surely, he was only driving the bullies away so he could then kill them himself! 

And so, the children tried to run away, while two of the teenaged ruffians began to beat up the smaller Burmecian, mercilessly beating him for interfering. To his horror, the other two went after the children, threatening to corner them, and in his anger over it, the Burmecian called out, stretching his arm in their direction while he kept being punched. 

What happened next surprised everyone, yet no one more than it did the young boy. 

In front of the charging ruffians, spikes of ice rose from the ground, piercingly sharp and easily as tall as they themselves, blocking them from reaching the kids. Astonished, everyone stood still for a good moment, wondering just what had happened, before one of the ruffians realized what was happening: 

"Oh shit, that rat can use magic! Run, boys! Or he'll kill us just like he killed Gunthar! Run!" 

Moments later, only the Burmecian remained at the scene, the ruffians having abandoned their attack while the terrified children had fled. And as he sat there on the ground, staring at the icy spikes, the boy was positively stumped. Had... had he just done that...? Really...? But... but how...? How was such a thing possible...?

As it was usual on the streets, word traveled quickly. The rumor of mysteriously appearing ice spikes and the rat's involvement spread nigh immediately, with both the ruffians and the children eager to serve as witnesses and lend credibility to the words. They had been lucky to get away alive, so both sides claimed, and the distance everyone kept to the poor nine year old boy from that day on had as a result never been bigger. Nobody wanted to get anywhere near this dangerous street-rat. No one - except for one man. 

It was an elderly man that was passing through the border town when he caught wind of the rumors, easily in his late forties if not in his fifties already. He wasn't particularly strong looking nor did he appear daring or heroic, he was simply a travelling man, and nothing more. At least, to the naked eye he was, but as it so often is the case with certain people, you simply could not judge a book by it's cover. 

That man did not see the rumors as a reason to stay away, as a reason to avoid the streets where the Burmecian was rumored to be, no. To him, these rumors were the exact reason not to simply pass through this town and continue on his way, but to instead venture to where that incident supposedly had happened, eager to learn the truth. 

Who that man was? 

He was a teacher at the Academy in Daguerreo, a man most respected and knowledgeable, one that the students looked up to and sought to learn from. His name was Otanes, and like a true professor, he could not simply ignore a rumor that hinted at something truly remarkable and unique...

It was widely unheard of, that among the beggars and thieves roaming the back streets of nearly every town and city, children with a magical disposition existed. More often than not, such children either never fell this low, discovering their talents early enough to find different ways to survive, or they were too frail to make it on the streets. As such, on that account alone it would already have been worth verifying this rumor in the professor's eyes. 

What truly made this outstanding though, was the fact that this rumor surrounded a Burmecian child - for in the entire history of magic as the world knew it, never before had a Burmecian shown any talent whatsoever with magic.  It was unheard of, to the point even where others would have dismissed the rumor on account of this alone as a bold-faced lie and an exaggeration. But Otanes wasn't like others, and he wished to know the truth. 

And that truth, it proves to be more than he could ever have asked for. 

For what he finds huddled in a corner in one of the abandoned back streets is a young Burmecian boy with sapphire blue eyes - and around him, a small number of icy spikes protruding from the cold stone of the paved ground. 

It would prove surprisingly difficult to speak to the boy. Not only had he obviously suffered a lot in the recent past, showing clear signs of struggles and injures, but he also seemed scared. Was it a result of the wounds whose scars still were visible? His left lower arm was covered in a dirty bandage, the right upper arm showed a nasty scar from a stab wound, and his legs seemed marred by a multitude of scars that even the short fur could not hide entirely... - had whatever had happened to the child caused this fear? 

Or was it due to the powers he had displayed, and being unable to explain them, unable to figure out what exactly had happened? Either way, the Professor wanted to find answers - and to help the poor child, if it was in his power. 

However, already the first question proved problematic. 

"What is your man, young man? Would you mind sharing it with me?" - "I don't have a name..."

It would prove to be a rocky road, trying to get the boy to talk, but eventually, Otanes managed to gain his trust. Granted, it may have taken more than just words, with the elderly man eventually needing to not only offer the starving child food, but also to show him a small part of his own magic. 

Seldom had he ever seen anyone's eyes light up this much at the sight of a small, flickering flame being conjured in his palm. 

Still, even with the boy opening up, there was much he was not willing to tell him just yet, blocking certain questions off - especially those pertaining to his home. It was obvious that he hailed from Burmecia, but if he refused to even so much as name the country, then he must hold terrible memories of the Realm of Eternal Rain. But what he learned, it was enough. 

The boy had indeed conjured ice, unwillingly perhaps, but not without aim. The desperate wish to protect someone had caused his hidden talents to show themselves, and though the result had been far from what he'd wished, he all the same succeeded with the spell. As a nine year old boy without any training, who before did not even know that he could use magic, this was an impressive feat. 

One just had to imagine what this child could achieve with proper training... 

"Very well then boy, I thank you for your time, and your answers. You are truly a fascinating young man. I will be on my way now, but before I leave, allow me to ask you one last question:" 

And with this, the man would stand up again and hold out his hand to the young Burmecian with a smile while he'd speak the words that would end up changing the young Burmecian's life forever: 

"Would you like to come with me to the Academy and study magic?"

Meanwhile, things started to look a bit bleak for Skadi in Burmecia. In the year since she had seen her son exiled, her influence had greatly diminished, with her strongest argument for keeping the nobles under her thumb thus having disappeared. After all, with her renouncing the child herself, who would still believe her if she claimed it to have been fathered by a noble, or even the King himself? No, where before such threats had been effective and infallible, they now were dangerously close to an act of treason that could see her punished herself.  

And all just because that stupid boy couldn't live up to her expectations. 

Thankfully, her status remained unchanged. The Praying Mantis was still a high-ranking general in the grand army, she still had a vast amount of soldiers loyal to her and her cause, and if need be, she could even count on a large fraction of them siding with her rather than the king.  Furthermore, she remained instated as a tutor and instructor to aspiring Dragon Knights, securing her a constant flow of fresh talents guided her way, talents that she could win for her cause no matter if they had the makings of a Dragon Knight or merely an elite soldier. 

But even so, she was painfully aware of how now, the path to regaining her nobility had been blocked off for good, her goal even less achieveable now than it ever had been. 

And now, she wouldn't even have anyone to pass her name down to, someone who could continue in her quest and return the Skadrson house to it's rightful standing... 

But Skadi Skadrson is not one for regrets. She would move forward, like she always had, and find another way.

The time at the Academy was at first hard for the young Burmecian. He was an outsider once again, the sole Burmecian attending the Academy, and furthermore, he was the new kid, and still older than the novices usually were - It was not surprising that he didn't fit in. 

But that did not bother the boy for a long time. Once the classes started, he was immediately smitten with magic, fascinated by both theory and practice, and he threw himself at the studies with all he had. Quickly, he became somewhat famous for being the kind of student that would attend absolutely any lecture he could, no matter whether it benefited him or not - a feat only one other student would mirror, one who would become his biggest rival during the years to come - and at least in the boy's eyes, his friend.

But it wasn't all solely studies and practice, for life has more to offer than this, and such was true at the Academy as well. But while others indulge in social activities, mingling with their fellow students, the Burmecian boy preferred keeping to himself - and immersed himself in book after book after book, having rediscovered his love for reading that his mother had all but extinguished with her strictness. 

Ironically, the boy found that his favorite stories were still the ones he had favored in his early childhood, back in Burmecia. The ballads of Lord Avon, the old Burmecian legends, the tales of adventures and heroics, the theater pieces... yes, even the stories his mother had read for him back when she still cared for him, he loved them all. They allowed him to dive into different worlds, to feel as though he was the hero experiencing all these wonders , that he could be just like all these legendary people. 

That he could be worth something. That people could care for him.

It was as such not surprising, that eventually, it would be the books and stories that would show their great influence on the young Burmecian, for when the current headmaster of the Academy demanded that he'd choose a name for himself, so that the people would have something to call him by, preventing them from using racial slurs instead, it is from one such legend that he chooses his name: 

"Sceada. Please call me Sceada from now on." 

Sceada - after an ancient race of lesser dragons sung about in legends. A name steeped in dragon lore thus, as though he was a dragon himself - the kind of dragon that even his mother could not slay, just like she failed to truly get rid of him. A final act of defiance against the woman that had made his life hell, even if she'd never know about it. 

Sceada... - A name that felt fitting to him, and that was all he needed.

Though he had some initial difficulties, Sceada soon became one of the best students the Academy had ever seen. His thirst for knowledge and natural curiosity served him well, driving him to study harder than anyone else in order to make up for the lost time - well, anyone but one particular young woman. 

Seshat Khnum had always been a prodigy, and was widely regarded as the biggest talent in White Magic to ever attend the Academy. She was studious, gifted, and also rather gorgeous, rendering her immensely popular with everyone. She thrived on the adoration of her peers, and gained great satisfaction from her teacher's well-earned praise. And for the longest time, she was the undisputed number one. 

And then this little rat came along. 

From the moment he was inducted into the same year in the Academy that she attended, she disliked him, no, despised him even. What right did a street rat like this have to attend the same classes that she did, to sit in the same class rooms and study under the same professors? She wanted him to fail, wanted him gone - and she was not afraid of letting him know just how poorly she thought of him. Insults were nigh daily flung at the Burmecian, and on several occasions she'd even write slurs atop his notebooks, so he'd never forget just how much beneath her he was. 

But the boy was unfazed, and within a matter of just a few months, he suddenly started to outshine and rival her.

For Seshat, this competition is both unbearable and a blessing alike. 

On one hand, the simple fact that she is no longer the one exemplary student that towered above all the others is a veritable insult to her. She, who always was the best, should now share the spotlight with another? And with this stupid rat face, on top of it all? Inconceivable, and utterly unacceptable. 

And that is precisely why it was a blessing as well. For with this upstart challenging her position now, Seshat seems herself forced to rise above him once more, and puts more effort into her studies, going so far as to attend every single class possible. 

It is ironic that thus, she winds up spending more time with her rival than anyone else will in the entire 8 years that Sceada stays in Daguerreo.

Sometimes, this unintended closeness leads to rumors spouting amidst the fellow students, especially those who do not know the aspiring White Mage well. They are mean spirited and foul, used in order to discredit the prodigy, with one even going so far as to proclaim her a rat-fucker. 

Needless to say, the rumors are false, and Seshat makes certain that those who spread it pay dearly. 

It is not without reason that some people refer to her as a future Battle Healer, or simply as brutal. For if there is one thing that Seshat Khnum knows perfectly well and has almost perfected during her studies, then it is the fact that no matter how badly she beats another student, she is capable to healing them to the point that nothing remains. No bruises, no cuts, no wounds - only the memory. 

And that memory, she finds, is often more than enough to discourage any of them to cross her again.

Over the years, Skadi Skadrson had worked hard to regain her influence and power, only to find that she would never reach the same position within Burmecia again that she once held. Granted, at by now 44 years old she had mostly eliminated the same that her son brought over her before she saw him exiled 9 years ago, and she is once again widely respected by the people, and feared by her students and Burmecia's enemies alike. Everyone knows that the Praying Mantis is a fierce, unforgiving woman, both on the battlefield and during training. 

But her political influence is all but gone. The nobles have long since stopped fearing her, no longer giving her anything to use as leverage against them, nor granting her any favors. Only a handful of them still enjoys her visits, men who have grown old with the years and do not have to fear losing their families, for they already lost them one way or another, or never had one to begin with. 

She can no longer use her body to sway those above her standing, painful as it is to realize this. It is still plenty to keep her most trusted subordinates loyal, and to gain some enjoyment from it all, but that is the limit of it now. 

But the Skadrson bloodline will end with her, much to her dismay, and without ever regaining it's nobility or rank on the council. The House founded by the legendary Skadr has fallen, and though it was not at her own hands, it still deeply pains Skadi that it would happen within her generation. 

At least she still could find purpose in battle, be it in the hunt or in defending her beloved nation from intruders. And with the ever growing rumors of Alexandria's Queen Brahne strengthening her forces, she may yet have her use in this world. 

Even if it was only to put a grief-stricken, crazed and power-hungry widow and her minions in their place.

Meanwhile, the students at Daguerreo's Academy are blissfully unaware of the crisis slowly forming on the Mist Continent. Especially those in the final year, like the 17 year old Seshat and Sceada, are too busy with preparing for their upcoming final exams to truly care about politics and rumors. Each class is set to conclude with a truly massive exam, some practical some theoretical, and not a single student hoping to pass and graduate can afford to slack off in their learning. 

Once again, the two biggest prodigies of the Academy stand out among them, needing to invest more time than anyone else due to having taken every single class they could, resulting in a plethora of exams they need to take. The number of these sizable exams is so overwhelming, that the faculty even has to readjust their planning and prolong the exam period, so that it becomes physically possible for the two to take the exams that otherwise would have overlapped. 

Some are tempted to say that this is due to the two being the favorites of several teachers, including the deputy headmaster, Professor Otanes, but most of the students are just glad that this offers them more time in between exams, and an opportunity to at least attempt and cram into their heads what they neglected to learn in the last years.

It was to be the last big competition between the two rivals. Whoever would score more points in the exams, they would be declared winner over the other - and it was a competition that not only interested the two themselves but also the student body as a whole. Bets were placed on who would prevail, whether it'd be the prodigious White Mage Seshat Khnum, or the first Burmecian Black Mage Sceada. 

Rumors had it, even some of the teachers had placed bets, no matter that they were forbidden from doing so... 

The result when it finally was announced then was incredibly close. Both had excelled in their respective fields, finishing with nigh perfect marks, leaving both the teachers and the fellow students in awe. What wound up making the difference was a measly five points - five points which Seshat scored more in Sceada's field than he did in hers. 

Five points that Seshat managed by virtue of being capable of conjuring a fireball, no matter how small and feeble it had been. Five points that Sceada was missing... because he could not cast even the simplest of healing spells. 

After 8 years of studying, there had been one thing Sceada could not master, no matter his efforts and willingness, and that was healing magic. For reasons unknown to both him and the teachers alike, it was simply impossible for him. 

And knowing that, Seshat was furious at only having scored a measly five points more than him.

That year, two of the best students the Academy of Daguerreo had ever seen would graduate, both exemplary in their field. One of them, the White Mage Seshat Khnum, would choose to stay, striving to become an instructor and mold the next generation. A generation that would look up to her, be eager to learn from her and eager in it's pursuit of knowledge and study of magic. The other, however... 

"I have read so much about the world, both ancient and current, yet I have only seen so very little of it... I wish to change that. I wish to travel and see what the world has to offer, see what remains of it's history and how it has shaped the present. And while I do so... I wish to study more types of magic." 

After all, right now, his magic knew only to destroy... - And he wanted more than that, wanted to learn how to protect people, how to save them. And perhaps, even more than that. 

It would take him years, but eventually, he would come to realize just how much he could achieve with his magic, how versatile his fine control rendered his abilities. And by that time, he would also have achieved the final, most important goal, that he left unspoken. 

And find true friends.

And so, Sceada would venture out into the world, seeking to find his own path, friends, and a place to call home. But the world he would venture into, it was not to be a quiet world, for tragedy and disaster were about to strike... 

By the hands of Queen Brahne of Alexandria and a man called Kuja, Gaia's Mist Continent had been thrown into the turmoils of war. The three great nations were all increasing the forces, recruiting more soldiers than before - yet, unbeknownst to all, it was Alexandria that had assembled a truly terrifying force, created from artificial puppets capable of casting Black Magic. A force, that was ready to lay waste to both the industrious Lindblum and the Realm of Eternal Rain... 

Yet Burmecia was unaware of the true danger looming, preparing solely for the assault of the Alexandrian military itself. General Beatrix was widely feared for her prowess in battle and as a tactician, and the threat of her troops marching upon Burmecia was enough to stir unrest in the kingdom. Quickly, the Praying Mantis, believed to be the only one currently present in the Realm that could rival the fearsome Alexandrain General, suggested to dispatch spies and prepare her troops to intercept the enemy as soon as they received words of their plans. 

A plan that was widely regarded as sufficient, and well-thought out - oh, if they had only known how foolish a believe that was... 

But without Sir Fratley, and without Lady Freya, what other options did they even still have, than to trust Skadi? Even Ser Ganymede, one of her fiercest critics in the council, agreed - while at the same time taking precautions so his beloved daughter Calisto and his wife would be safe, should the worst come to pass. 

It would prove to be the wisest decision made in Burmecia during those days.

When word returned from the spies that Alexandria was marching on the North Gate, Skadi was determined to crush the enemy decisively. She wanted more than just to repel the advancing forces, she wanted to devastate them so they would learn the bitter lesson not to mess with her and Burmecia ever again, 

For that purpose, Skadi would take every last of the elite soldiers under her command with her - an act which would prove to be a terrible mistake, as it heavily weakened Burmecia's defenses, and left the capitol bare and under-prepared for the attack that followed...

While Skadi's forces marched to the North Gate, eager to defeat the Alexandrian army, prepared to defeat them and save the day, the true Alexandrian forces, led by General Beatrix and filled to the brim with the artificially created Black Mages, took another route, one that most Burmecians would have deemed impassable: The path through Gizarmaluke's Grotto. 

But while the people of the Realm of Eternal Rain believed that their sacred Guardian would deny passage to anyone that was not welcome, that there was no way anyone could force their way through there, the Alexandrain forces did just that - and brought the legendary Guardian under their control with a spell driving it mad... 

Burmecia stood no chance. 

The meager forces that remained, led by Ser Acheron Ganymede, fought valiantly against the overwhelming strength of the Alexandrian army, but stood no chance against the Black Mages and the fire they rained down upon them. Within a single day, the city had fallen, most of it left in ruins while those able to walk among the survivors tried to flee, leaving behind their beloved city as well as those who could not leave it anymore, be they dead or stuck underneath debris. 

Ser Acheron Ganymede was among those who fell that day, but other than most of his people, he did so in honor, for it was not the foul Black Magic that took his life, but the blade of the fabled General Beatrix instead - but he was but one of a few who found such a worthy end...

Of all this, of the tragedy unfolding on their doorstep, Skadi and her men have no idea. Instead, they arrive at the North Gate, ready to face and utterly crush a giant army - only to be met with a much smaller force of the Alexandrian military. And to make matters worse, General Beatrix is nowhere in sight either... 

The battle thus, unsurprisingly, does not last long. 

The elite Dragon Knights lead the charge, crashing down on their foes with terrible might, and leave the remains to the foot soldiers to finish. Quickly, it is obvious that Skadi's plan of utterly devastating the foe is successful, and her troops allow themselves to get drunken on this fact. So much so, that they fail to realize the truth of the situation, and to notice that this whole setup had the makings of a trap. 

A trap that the oh so glorious Skadi "The Praying Mantis" Skadrson fell for hook line and sinker.

It is only after their victory at the North Gate that Skadi begins to realize that something must be wrong. 

There had been no sighting of General Beatrix, which not only denied her a honorable, fated duel with the one woman she could consider a true equal, it also signaled that this attack was not led in earnest. That there must be another force, led by her, striking somewhere else. 

There have not been many moments in the Praying Mantis' life after she got rid of her tormentor and her father in which she felt fear, but in that very moment, she was positively terrified. 

The attack on the North Gate was nothing more than a ruse, a distraction, a trap - and she had fallen for it, leading Burmecia's best men right into it and depriving her home of their strength. Strength that might be sorely needed to defend it, And it had been her fault, her fault alone. 

They needed to get back, as fast as possible. 

"MEN!! There is no time to celebrate, not yet! We must make haste, and return to Burmecia! Quickly now!!" 

But it will already be too late.

When Skadi and her men finally return to Burmecia, they find their beloved home left in ruins, and littered with the bodies of their fellow Burmecians. Their friends, their comrades, their lovers and families - everything was gone. 

Some of the men can't handle this tragedy, and break down, unable to go on. Their hope lost, their will to fight broken as there is nothing left for them to fight for. Others give in to anger instead of despair, quick to blame others for what had happened, specifically pointing their fingers - and lances - at Skadi. How could she have led them into this mess like this? How could she have done this to her fellow Burmecians, how could she have abandoned her kingdom like this?  

Quickly, unrest stirs in the once so unified troops, survivors turning on other survivors - it is a miracle that no further blood is spilt on that day, that the ruined streets of Burmecia were spared of seeing more of their children lose their life following this tragedy. 

Finally, there are also those who see but one way now, with everything else lost, who know but one desire now, consuming them like an ever-burning flame eating away at their souls: 

Revenge.

Unsurprisingly, it is Skadi herself who winds up leading those bent on revenge, giving pursuit to the Alexandrian forces while at the same time abandoning those too weak to follow her, be it from despair or actual injury. They would be useless right now, unable to keep up, forcing others to drag them with them. And Skadi Skadrson never had time from anyone or anything useless. Even now, when it would have been so important for them to stay together, when it would have been up to her to keep the remains of Burmecia together as the one people looked up to. 

But the Praying Mantis is too heartbroken over the loss of her beloved country. And how could she not be? 

After all, Burmecia had always been the only thing she truly loved.

Even though Skadi and her men gave purchase as soon as they could, they still prove to be too late, always at least a step behind the Alexandrian forces. When Odin obliterates Cleyra, they can only watch from afar, horrified at the tragedy unfolding before their eyes, unable to stop it. Many more fall into despair, abandoning Skadi and her cause altogether.

Over the course of an entire year, many more will abandon her, only those most loyal and devoted remaining at the end. Long has Queen Brahne met her end, without the Praying Mantis even so much as having had a chance to make her pay for slaughtering her brethren, and even that mysterious man Kuja appears to have been bested - by her former student Freya and her friends, as rumors would have it. And Beatrix, she soon is proclaimed an ally of those wishing to preserve the world, everyone seemingly forgetting her horrible deeds. 

Skadi is bereft of anyone to take revenge on, but finds her hunger for it unsatisfied. She still desires to make someone, anyone pay for the tragedy that befell them, for the fall of Burmecia, but by now, the feeble remainders of her once mighty army have lost faith in her. They plead her to abandon the quest, to return to Burmecia and help rebuild it, but she can't. 

Skadi Skadrson cannot fail in this quest  She cannot accept that her homeland would never be revenged, that she will never have the satisfaction of making those suffer who caused her people so much pain. 

And so, the last of her men leave her as well. 

Only she remains, a haunted woman of 45 winters, that has lost everything she ever cared for. Her green armor has lost it's shine and grown dull, and her mighty spear Brionac appears to have stopped heeding her commands, becoming little more than a regular polearm. The Praying Mantis is a broken woman, alone and abandoned., bereft of all hope. 

And one day, she simply disappears. 

Where to, no one knows. Nor whether she will ever return. And so, little more than a year after Burmecia's fall, Skadi Skadrson is pronounced death by her remaining people, her name soon fading away as the months and years will pass. 

And with that, House Skadrson finally meets its end.

Sceada has already been traveling the world on his own for over a year when he hears word of his mothers demise, and he is not certain how he should feel. 

He had already been conflicted felt conflicted when shortly after his departure from Daguerreo, he had learned of Burmecia's fall. Burmecia, which had never given him anything but sorrow and pain, was no more. Perhaps he should have felt relief at that, happiness over the fact that this wretched society that had allowed such tragedy to unfold would never again cause an innocent child such suffering. But he does not, he cannot feel relieved, for too many have lost their lives in this horror. 

Should he then rather feel sad at having lost the home he never could return to anyhow, feel sad for how he now, even if he were allowed to return, wouldn't have a place to return to anymore? The mark etched into his left lower arm with blood red ink, the mark that still burned like on the day he received it, it renders him unable to cry tears on Burmecia's behalf. The only tears the mark can call forth are one's of deep pain and sorrow, of a panic greater than any other he'll ever endure, and that is why he keeps it hidden under bandages at all times. 

Yes, Burmecia's fall has left the young man of 18 winters conflicted - and so does his mother's apparent death once he hears of it. Yet there is one emotion this news stirred within him, one feeling that both frightens and upsets him, for he does not wish to be that kind of man. 

For he feels anger at being robbed of his chance to ever make her pay for what she did, feels betrayed, robbed of this chance he deserved. 

Little does he know that somewhere, far away, Skadi yet lives, having fled Gaia after it became to painful to live on.

Three years had Sceada already been traveling, always alone on the road, with no friends to rely on or spend time with, nor with a place to call home. It was not rare for him to arrive in a city or village and immediately be shunned, humans proving to be far less understanding of a Burmecian travelling their lands than he had hoped, and it was difficult, earning money. 

But he was used to it. 

Sleeping outside, under the clear skies, had not been a punishment or a shortcoming for him, even if it lacked the comfort of a real bed or the protection an inn or even just a tent could offer. It was fine all the same, nothing to worry too much about - and at the very least, he could see the stars above as he'd fall asleep, finding comfort in the sight. 

Similarly, he had never been a picky eater, being fine with nearly anything, so long as it was edible. That meant he could fine food in the woods by himself just fine, only occasionally needing to buy provisions like bread or cheese - both of which having proven themselves to be ideal provisions for a wanderer like him. 

Yes, it may not have been a glorious or easy life, but it was a good life all the same. It was his life, his alone, and only he decided where it went. And that was a very freeing and rewarding feeling, to say the least. 

Yet no matter how much he wished to pretend that everything was going well, there was one thing he could not deny. 

It was lonely, living like this, and not having a place to return to someday was not helping this in the slightest

It is a rainy day, when Sceada for the first time meets someone that is actually interested in him, someone that doesn't turn away and that maybe, just maybe, he could consider a friend. Yet after years of travelling on his own, he is not one to easily trust just yet - especially not when the one that winds up sitting at the same table as he does is a fellow Burmecian. 

Lady Freya Crescent of Burmecia, a Dragon Knight like his mother had been, and as he learned, once even a student of hers - it is no wonder that Sceada struggles to build any trust, that he is anxious, apprehensive, reserved towards the honorable woman, towards one of the heroes that saved this world from destruction. 

And yet still... 

Despite his reservations against Dragon Knights and Burmecians, he finds Freya sympathetic of his struggles however, the at least a decade older woman even revealing her own scorn ot the Praying Mantis - and inviting him to drink with her. 

It will be the first time that Sceada will get drunk, finding his resistance to alcohol to be uncharacteristically low for a Burmecian - and it will be the first time in a long, long time that he will sleep in a bed, finding proper rest for once.

It is half a year later, with Sceada still being 20 years old, that he decides to test his abilities as a mage. Having never been one who enjoyed hurting others, it proves to be a fortunate opportunity when the annual Festival of the Hunt is announced to take place in Lindblum, and eager to show his worth, the young Burmecian promptly signs up. 

It is a fierce competition, with various foes and monsters to face that are bound to strike fear into most people. And though the start proves rocky, with a trio of Bombs chasing the Black Mage through the streets of the Theater District, Sceada surprisingly soon proves himself to be a contender for the win. 

The decisive moment that puts him in the lead even comes, when he joins a battle against the fearsome Earth Eater, and surprisingly manages to land the finishing blow after finding a way around the monster's magical defenses. But what truly secures him the win, is a battle unlike any he ever fought before - a battle that he, by all means, lost. Even if he winds up defeating the creature. 

It is the battle against a Malboro.

The foul beast takes him by surprise, it's bad breath dizzying his mind and dulling his senses. Quickly, he appears to be at the creatures mercy, unable to see anything, collapsed to the floor and with a tentacle wrapping itself around his leg. The monster aims to eat him, devour him, but he cannot just allow this to happen. 

But what can he do in this situation, unable to see anything, including his target? Could he really aim a spell at it then? 

He can, even if not directly. But by using his leg as a helpful mark in feeling just where the creature's tentacle had grabbed him, he is given the opportunity to aim a spell in such a fashion that it would hit the beast for certain. 

Even if it means aiming at his own leg. 

The pain when the icicles pierce not only the tentacle but his flesh as well is excruciating, and renders him unable to flee - and thought the Malboro retracted it's tentacle briefly, it is not driven away, but rather angered. 

And so the inevitable happens, when the beast grabs it's prey's arms and waist with it's tentacles - and devours the Burmecian in one gulp. 

Only his hat is left behind...

It is minutes later when the Burmecian awakens again, disoriented and his head dizzy from both the fumes and the pain. He doesn't know where he is, only seeing darkness, and laying in a pool of an acidic liquid - gastric acid, as he soon realizes. 

Had he... had he been eaten... ? He must have been... So this... this would be his end...? 

No... No, it cannot be.... it cannot end like this.... he cannot just die her, not like this... He has to survive... somehow, anyhow... there must be a way... 

It is in this delirious and confused state that Sceada manages to tap into powers he would have thought unimaginable. It is a part of him that desperately wants to survive, that would do anything to achieve that goal - even if it puts himself at risk of dying as well. 

"Firaja..." 

When the mighty fire spell explodes inside the beast's stomach, igniting the gas within immediately, the ensuing blast is the last thing the Bumecian would remember before losing consciousness....

Later, some people would find the scattered remains of the Malboro littering the street, charred from the enormous blast that ripped it asunder. A gruesome sight, that was not fit for those with a weak stomach. And in the middle of the blast radius, the helpers would find a pool of spilt gastric acid - and a young Burmecian man whose clothes had been scorched and the pale grey skin burned. 

It took him several days to regain his consciousness, days in which the Festival found it's end - with Sceada's unexpected win. 

1'000'000 Gil were his price, money which he would save and not use for better food or accommodations - and once he was healthy enough, he would be sent to Besaid, where many of the other participants and spectators already went to in order to relax and rest after the Festival. 

It is on that trip where Sceada will finally meet true friends, and that his eyes will be opened about his own worth, where he will realize just how much he could do with his magic.

It is on Besaid where his journey will truly start anew - a journey that he would be able to share with friends.

~~~~~~

[akagami-no-rae]

Wistal Nights

Haruto’s been called back to Wistal. The crown needs a spare, but Kain is a monster. (rape/non-con is only vaguely alluded to)  

AO3 

Haruto hadn’t been in Wistal longer than day when she learned of her betrothed’s death. King Abel had been found dead in his room, the cause unknown. It was less than a year after his coronation. Haruto was swept up in the chaos the country experienced directly following its sovereign’s death. She’d been sent away by her family to marry Abel and become the queen. Her husband was supposed to take care of her accommodations and provide her ladies in waiting, now, she had no one. She was all alone in what might as well have been a foreign land. Abel’s brother, Kain, was next in line for the throne and signed the succession the same day of his brother’s death without fanfare. King Kain insisted that the wedding plans carry on despite the petitions for its cancelation. Both the King and queen were to be crowned on their wedding day. Haruto was horrified. She knew Abel’s death was somehow caused by Kain. It had to have been him with the way he carried on with a cocky grin while the kingdom grieved their young king who had once been a beloved prince. Abel’s courtship with Haruto was carefully conceived, she knew, but the letters he sent her were honest and made her truly believe that she could fall in love with this man, but Kain... He’d always been the man to do whatever he liked whenever he liked and took what he pleased. She’d heard tales of his brashness and violence. His courtship lasted mere days with zero words exchanged in the meantime. No letters or flowers, Haruto was only informed of the new arrangement when the tailors arrived at her door to pin her into her dress. She cried throughout the entire fitting. It would also be recorded that she ‘cried for joy throughout the wedding ceremony and reception’. That night, Haruto finally had an opportunity to meet and speak to her husband, to give him the benefit of the doubt and get to know him, but Kain just did what he always does. He took what he wanted. Haruto conceived a child within the first month and to her great relief it was a a healthy boy, named Izana. Having fulfilled her role providing an heir she took her son back to the north to raise him with her family. She was gone before their first anniversary. For five years, she was able to avoid Kain completely. He didn’t have any interest in his son who couldn’t yet speak and his harem of concubines was enough to satisfy him without the need for his Queen. Yet upon Izana’s sixth birthday the king summoned them back. The queen and the prince where to leave Wilant and live in Wistal.

It struck many of the southern nobles that the queen was too involved with the north. There was also an unrest amongst the nobles who feared yet another prince might die suddenly and leave Clarines without an heir. They demanded a second prince...

“Izana, darling,” the queen cooed to the prince their first night in Wistal, “Why don’t you sleep in my bed tonight?” Izana, even at six, was surprised by this offer. He’d only ever shared his mother’s bed when he’d had a bad dream and she���d been too tired to turn him out. Most of the time he never even made it to his mother’s room before a maid spotted him, gave him a glass of milk, and sent him back to his own bed. “Why?” he said the word like any boy his age would, but it made Haruto blink. “Because new places can be scary and-“ she saw that his young face was unconvinced. “I’m not scared though.” His voice sounded bored. She sighed, changing tactics, “Momma is though,” she she cupped the side of his face in her hand, “a little. I need my brave boy with me tonight. Will you stay with me?” His brow was crinkled and his little lips were pulled into a tight line. He was thinking, but she knew he couldn’t understand, not yet, she didn’t want him to. “Okay, momma.” he said finally. It worked for a couple of weeks. It became regular routine for the prince to be sent to his mother’s room after supper. Izana would fall asleep wrapped in her arms, unaware of the stalemate that took place around his sleeping form. Kain would enter Haruto’s room through the conjoined door and see her glaring back at him, Izana asleep and clutched in front of her almost like a shield. “You’ll wake him.” she’d hiss and, amazingly, Kain would leave. In the hours of daylight Izana was enamored with his father, the king. He’d voice excitement to be like him, he’d beam whenever Kain acknowledged him, and would swing around sticks “like father’s sword”. His hero worship was concerning to Haruto, but it worked in her favor. For the first time, Kain showed restraint. The duels where Izana saw his father display his skill with the sword usually ended in several injuries given by Kain to an opponent that had already yielded. This time, however, Kain observed the rules of engagment and staid his blade after the knight took to his knee. Haruto noticed each time he did this he’d turn back to the crowd and look right at Izana whose eyes and smile were wide. He was a snake hiding its fangs, lying in wait, and she was playing a dangerous game. He struck. It was sudden and unexpected. Haruto shot awake at the sound of the conjoined door flying open, “I’m done playing this game, Haruto!” Kain yelled as he stormed in. Haruto felt Izana jolt in her arms. He was awake, but he didn’t move or speak’ he was frozen as the man he admired berated him. “He’s too old for this! Get him out now! Haruto was sitting up now with Izana propped up as she held him tight, “Kain, please!” “It’s over, not again!” he grabbed Izana’s upper arms and wrenched him from Haruto’s grasp. “No!” she screamed. “Not one more night!” Kain flung the door to the hall open and light poured in. Kain roughly set Izana down on his feet outside the room. He looked in shock, his small body shook and his eyes were teary. “Sleep in your own room, boy!” Kain shouted before slamming the door behind him. Izana stood in the hall staring at the door behind which the shouting continued. A few nearby servants were frozen in the midst of their duties to watch the small part of the scene unfold. A maid was the first to snap out of the stupor and came to Izana’s side. “Are you hurt, your highness?” she asked. Izana responded with a wail. “There, there,” she hushed him and quickly scooped him into her arms, “Just a bit frightened,” she explained to the others as she hastened away from the suites, “We’ll get you a glass of milk, you’ll be alright, my lord.”

The milk wasn’t warm it like it was in Wilant.

In the months to follow Izana rarely saw his mother except for at a distance. She usually sat on a bench over looking the gardens and always wore a silk dressing gown. Her hair was loose and strands of it blew in the breeze. It was shorter, he noticed, usually it was long enough that the ends brushed the seat, now it hardly came past her shoulders. He didn’t know why, but she seemed sad. He looked to his tutor. “May I see her majesty?” He had learned from his etiquette classes to call her that. “No, your highness, her majesty prefers to be alone while in the gardens and you have a reading lesson to get to.” “Izana.” he heard his named called. He turned and saw his mother facing towards them, “Come here.” she said and patted the space next to her. Without giving his tutor the chance to say no, Izana ran to Haruto. Then slowed once he saw her face. Her eyes were red and her smile didn’t show teeth. He walked the rest of the way and sat next to her. She cupped his cheeks, “I’ve missed you, my little prince.” He put his small hands over hers, “I missed you too, ma- your majesty.” Haruto blinked, then laughed. “I see you’ve started school.” Izana shook his head, “I didn’t just start.” Haruto looked off over the gardens. Her hand slipped past her robe and rubbed her stomach, “I suppose it has been awhile.” Izana craned his neck to see what his mother was rubbing. Then his eyes went wide her stomach was round and stuck out. It didn’t do that before. His etiquette classes had taught him better than to say anything, but he couldn’t help himself from reaching out and touching her stomach. His touch made Haruto jump slightly and brought her out of her daze. Her head whipped down to see the hand that was touching her and sighed in relief to see Izana’s small fingers and wide eyes. “His majesty wants you to have a little brother. what do you think, Izana?” Her voice wasn’t full of joy, but measured. Izana looked up at her, his face lit up, “A brother?!” “We cant know for sure,” He didn’t notice her fingernails digging slightly into her stomach as she forced a smile, “But I hope so.” “Would he be a prince too?” He said beaming, practically standing in his chair now. His excitement actually drew a laugh from her, “Yes.” “Will he become a king too?” He was too cute, she couldn’t stop her laughter, “You’ll be king, but he will always be a prince.” “oh.” he said. Her murph subsided and she took his small hands in her own. “Your brother is always going to be by your side. I want you to promise you’ll be a good big brother and always look after him.” Izana shook his whole head, his hair fell into his eyes. “I promise.” He said, not fully understanding the weight this promise was meant to hold. Haruto brushed his hair away from his eyes. “Hasn’t anyone given you a hair cut?” “I told them no,” he said, his big blue eyes serious, “I want long hair like in the north.” Long hair was tradition for northern lords and Ladies. It was a tradition Haruto’s family had been especially fond of. Long hair was symbolic of deep roots, sheered hair meant a serious life change had occurred, usually in reference to loss. Haruto ruffled his hair, “Alright, you grow your hair out long like the old warriors and train and get smart.” She tickled his neck drawing a laugh from him then, gently, she brushed the side of his face with her thumb, “And don’t cut it until you’re ready for battle.”

[shanastoryteller]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I'm absolutely blown away by your gods & monsters series. I've loved Greek myths for a long time, and I'm really impressed by how you include details of the original stories in your version. After loving her as a kid, I was really bummed to learn that Athena acted as the primary upholder of the patriarchy - if you're taking prompts, would you consider writing something about her? Either way, thanks for writing such an amazing series and sharing it with us!

She believes that she wasborn without the ability to feel love, that she is destined by thecircumstances of her birth to be cold and emotionless and alone.

Bursting from the skullof Zeus, she was borne neither from passion nor love. Neither conceived her andso she can conceive neither. Pallas Athena is born fully grown, steel-eyed andiron strong. Athena is born, and no one weeps.

~

She has little patienceand little love for the rest of her family. Those she is not constantlyexasperated by – such as the exuberant twins, Apollo and Artemis’s smilesbright enough to blind – she cannot bear to be around.

Hermes is wise, butgreedy, and she won’t stand his avarice. Hephaestus – he’s different, hedoesn’t smile often but he has kindness in his eyes and cleverness in hishands. Athena sits beside him in his forge, and he does not avoid her or growtired of her constant corrections. He takes her criticisms of his worksilently, either taking them and reforming his works or ignoring them withoutgiving any sort of explanation. She likes his silences, his large dark eyes,likes the way he built himself better legs instead of trying to get new onesfashioned for him. Zeus could have done it, as could his brothers, butHephaestus did not ask.

Aphrodite is born as shewas, and for a moment Athena thought she would no longer be alone, that shewould have a sister of her heart. But Aphrodite is the personification of loveand passion, and does not struggle with their absence as Athena does.

Her new sister’s comingis a double blow. The goddess is beloved by all, coveted by all, pursued by all– including Hephaestus. Athena doesn’t believe the loveliest woman in existencewill choose a malformed god that does not even have a throne on Olympus, butshe is wrong.

The gods compete for her,offer her castles and servants and all manner of extravagant gifts. Arescampaigns the most aggressively for her hand, promising all sorts of thingsthat no sane man would barter.

Hephaestus offers asingle copper rose fashioned from his own two hands.

Aphrodite goes home withhim. Her throne on Olympus, empty more often than not, becomes adorned withsimple copper flowers.

Athena tells herself shedid not want him anyway, and forces what’s left of her heart to turn to stone.

~

Medusa is a simplevillage girl. She has thick black hair she wears in braids, dark skin, andstartlingly green eyes. Many call her beautiful, but she does her best to hideit, wearing simple grey dresses and letting no makeup adorn her face, allowsnot a single glittering necklace around her neck.

She is clever. Her fatheris a farmer, her mother a midwife, but she thinks she could be more. Shebecomes a priestess of the goddess Athena where she’s educated by the otherpriestesses, her now-sisters, Stheno and Euryale.

Her attempts to be plainare not successful for long. She catches the eye of Poseidon, a god sotremendously powerful that her knees shake whenever he looks at her. Medusadoes not leave the temple often, terror clutching her heart whenever shecatches sight of Poseidon waiting for her at the edge of the village.

She does not go to him.She hopes he will stop waiting.

One day a messenger comesto the temple, sweat soaked and eyes wide. “Priestess Medusa!” he gasps,“please, come with me! My wife – she’s having a difficult birth, the midwifesaid to come to you. You must help us!”

Medusa wavers. She is nota disciple of Artemis, but her mother trained her well. Theirs is not a largevillage – if she refuses to help, if she places her fear over thisalmost-mother’s needs, she is not fit to call herself the priestess of anygoddess. “Lead the way,” she says, swallowing down her fear and lifting herskirts to follow the man out of the safety of the temple and into the village.

The birth is long, andhard, and she and the midwife are only partially successful. The mother issaved, but of the two children who grew in her womb only one still breathes.The father thanks her even as he touches the cheek of the babe they could notsave, and Medusa tries not to wonder if they would have both lived if she hadnot hesitated. She does not think so, but knows the possibility will haunterher regardless.

He offers to walk herback, but she declines, unwilling to separate him from his new family, andmakes the long walk to the temple alone.

She’s almost there when aman appears, easily walking besides her. His eyes are sea-storm blue and hisskin tanned, tall and thick with rippling muscles. “I’ve been waiting for you,”he says, mouth tilted up that the corner.

Medusa stares, heart inher throat, and can think of nothing to say. So she runs.

She’s on the steps of thetemple when a thick arm catches her around the waist. “Not so fast,” Poseidonmurmurs, lips dragging against her neck. “We’ve hardly had the opportunity tobecome acquainted.”

“We can’t,” she saysdesperately, unwilling to struggle and risk angering him. “We are at a templeof the virgin Athena!”

“Only the steps,” hereaches beneath her skirt, “she won’t mind. It’s all right, isn’t it? You’resuch a pretty thing.”

She bites her lips tokeep from crying. Poseidon is the god of the sea, and she is merely a mortalwoman. “No,” she whispers, sending up one last plea to her patron goddess. “No,I don’t mind.”

~

Athena is furious. She has no patience forPoseidon’s misdeeds on the best of days, but her priestess, in her temple– she has not the power to kill the god, but she’s eager to teach him a lesson.

She goes storming intohis palace, and all his servants go scurrying when they see her.

“Lady Athena,” a soft,amused voice greets, “what a pleasant surprise.”

She turns and glares atthe smiling Amphitrite. She never knows what to make of this woman. She’s thepersonification of the sea itself and is closer to a being like the greatMother Gaia than she is to a goddess. Yet she’s content to be the wife ofPoseidon, to be the sea he commands.

“Do you know where yourhusband is?” she demands.

“Always,” she responds,still with that same pleasant smile, and Athena feels a chill she can’t explaingo down her back. “How might I help you, Lady Goddess?”

“He owes me recompense,”she snaps, “He’s raped one of me priestesses in my temple. I demandsatisfaction.”

Amphitrite smiles, and Athenais reminded all at once that she’s in the middle of the sea, in the middle ofAmphitrite’s domain. This is not the place to cross her. “If it is satisfactionyou seek, it is not my husband you should be looking for.” Athena opens hermouth, but Amphitrite cuts her off, “Tend to your priestess, Lady Goddess.Nothing you seek is here to find.”

Athena is too wise tofight a battle already lost. She leaves the palace empty handed.

~

Medusa sits in a hot spring,legs pulled to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. She has not toldStheno and Euryale of the events of last night. How can she, when they willsurely toss her out if she reveals she’s no longer fit to serve in a temple of Athenathe Virgin.

“Did you bleed?”

Her head snaps up, andshe’s staring into cool grey eyes. “My lady!” she gasps, and hurries to pressher forehead to the rock, prostrating herself as best she can in the hotspring.

“I asked you a question,”Pallas Athena says.

Tears gathers in hereyes, and Medusa blinks them away. “No, my lady. He was gentle.”

The words feel sour inher throat, but they are true. He was not rough with her, did not bruise her asthe tales say he likes to do, did not leave her bleeding, only with a vaguesoreness that would be easy to ignore if it had any other cause.

“Don’t be ridiculous,”Athena says harshly, grabbing her chin and forcing Medusa to look at her. “Thereis nothing gentle about what he did. Be still. I will make it so that neither henor any other man will ever touch you again.”

Dread settles in the pitof her stomach. Medusa had not liked Poseidon’s hands on her – much of her skinis rubbed raw from where she tried to scrub away the phantom sensation of histouch. But she had not planned to remain a priestess forever. She had one daywanted a husband and children of her own, and that desire was not somethingPoseidon’s actions had managed to change.

But Athena is a goddess,and she is merely a mortal woman.

“Thank you, my lady,” shesays, and closes her eyes.

Whatever she does, Medusahopes it will at least not hurt.

~

Athena is in one of greatlibraries when Aphrodite settle besides her. She forces down the instinctualswell of bitterness at the sight of the goddess and says, “Aphrodite. Youshould have told me you were coming.”

“If I had, you wouldn’tbe here,” the other goddess retorts, and Athena keeps her face blank againstthe entirely accurate accusation. “I know you have a temper, sister, but wasnot your treatment of your priestess a little harsh? It’s hardly her own faultthat she caught the eye of Poseidon.”

It takes a moment forAthena to realize who she’s talking about. “My transformation of Medusa was nota punishment, but a gift.”

Aphrodite snorts, “Somegift. I wouldn’t normally interfere with your affairs, but the girl has beenpraying at my temple for months. Turn her back.”

“So that another man maymake prey of her?” Athena snaps, stung in way she refuses to show at Aphrodite’schastising. “I think not.”

“The way she is now, noman will love her either,” she says, “Whydo you deny her her happiness?”

Athena slams the bookshut that she was trying to read, thoroughly incensed. “You stupid girl, whywould she ever want a man’s love after what Poseidon did to her?”

“Not everyone is you,Pallas Athena,” Aphrodite says, something cruel in the curl of her mouth, “Notall are so willing to turn all that is capable of causing them pain into stone.”

She knows. Athenasupposes it was inevitable, that the goddess of love would know what used tolie in Athena’s heart, but her fists clench anyway. “Did you tell him?”

“My husband remains asoblivious of all but his machines as ever,” she says. “Return Medusa to herformer form.”

Athena is not willing tobe pushed around by a flowery, half rate goddess who wages no wars and wins no victories.“I refuse. I did right by my priestess.”

Aphrodite shakes herhead, but leaves her at long last.

~

Medusa doesn’t stoppraying to Aphrodite, no matter the long years that her prayers go unanswered.

She keeps her snakescovered in a tight headwrap, and they sleep willingly on top of her head.

In the temple, her gazeis of no concern, for her sisters were not men and therefore could not beturned to stone. But every time someone comes calling to the temple, she hides inher room and refuses to come out, terrified of turning some well-meaningtraveler to stone on accident.

A wounded man stays atthe temple – a hero, with the mark of the gods on him.

Stheno demands thatMedusa tends to him, says that she’s the best healer of the three of them. “He’sout cold, and god-touched besides,” Stheno says impatiently, dragging Medusafrom her room. “You won’t turn this one to stone.”

Medusa gives in, tendingto his wounds, careful to keep her eyes downcast in case he awakens.

He’s a beautiful man, theonly one she’s seen in a long time. His skin is a rich bronze, his hair isthick and black, and is cheekbones are high. His lips full and soft, as Medusadiscovers when she carefully skims her fingers over them. “His name is Perseus,”Euryale tells her.

“Perseus,” she repeats,and flushes all over.

She goes to him in thenight and sits besides him. At first she only watches him, waiting for hiswounds to heal and for him to awaken and leave. But days pass, and he heals,but slowly. She starts talking to him, describes her days as a child. She tellshim of her parents, of training to be a midwife, of how she eventually rejectedthat training to become a priestess of Athena. Days pass to weeks, and she speaksof Poseidon, of the gift (curse, her sisters say, when they think she cannothear them) Athena gave her, of the future she coveted and has now lost forever.

She holds his hand as shetalks, traces the lines of his hands and both dreads and hopes for the day thathe awakens.

The day comes. She hidesin her room and sits with her legs to her chest, just like on that day thatAthena came to her.

There’s footsteps andthen a knocking on her door. “Medusa?” a deep voice calls, “Are you in there?It’s Perseus.”

She slowly uncurls andwalks to her door. She does not open it, but she presses her forehead againstit. She wishes she knew what his eyes looked like.

“If – if you’re in there,I just – I just wanted. I – Thank you, Medusa. For tending to me. I would notbe alive if not for you. I can never repay you for your kindness.”

He stands there, waiting,but she cannot bring herself to speak to him.

“Okay,” he says, softerthis time, “It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. I hope we meet again,Priestess Medusa.”

She hasn’t cried in along time. She’s not surprised to realize she’s crying now.

~

Days turns to weeks turnto months. She does her best forget the man she never truly met.

Then he returns.

She’s sitting in thelibrary when Euryale comes for her, telling her she’s needed in the main room.

She barely catches sightof him before she bolts, hurrying to leave before she accidentally kills him.Euryale blocks her way, glaring. “You will not turn him to stone, Medusa. Go.”

“Priestess Medusa,” hecalls out with that same rich voice, “I’m wearing a blindfold. Our gazes willnot meet. Please, do not run from me.”

She takes a deep breath,forcing her heart to calm and her limbs to stop trembling before she can makeherself turn and face him. She takes lead-laden steps until she stands in fronthim. He has fresh scars from when she saw him last, and she aches to touchthem.

He holds out a small boxto her. “Please know these are yours no matter your answer, Priestess Medusa.They are not bargaining chips. They are a gift.”

“Thank you,” she says automatically,confused. “My answer to what?”

He smiles at her. Hislips look even nicer like that. “Lady Medusa, I heard you all those nights youwere by my side, all those long hours when your voice guided me back to themortal realm. I have traveled the world, and I have yet to meet a woman asextraordinary as you. I would take you for my wife, Lady Medusa, if you arewilling.”

Her knees buckle, and hishands wrap around her elbows, holding her upright. “I can’t,” she chokes out. “Ican’t, I’ll kill you.”

“The box in your handsholds a pair of eyes,” he says softly. “Take off my blindfold.”

It can’t be. He can’t besaying what she thinks he is. She raises a trembling hand and removes theblindfold.

Where his eyes should bethere is only emptiness. There’s minimal scarring, meaning they were removed inintentional precision. “If you take my eyes for you own, you will no longerhave to worry about turning people to stone. I doubt they are as lovely asyours must be, but I wish for you to have them none the less. I wish for you tohave the choices they provide weather you are my wife or not.”

Medusa carefullytransfers the precious, precious box to one hand and grabs the back of Perseus’sneck with the other, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. Hewraps a careful arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. He’s warmand solid, and his mouth is soft and pliant. He’s everything she ever hopedbeing held by a man would be.

Her hair covering fallsoff, and when they break apart he’s laughing. The snakes unbound are fullygrown now, and drape nearly to her waist. They reach out and brush against him.“Friendly, aren’t they?” he asks, holding up a hand for their inspection. “CanI take that as a yes, Lady Medusa?”

“Yes,” she says, and kisses him again, just because she can.

~

Athena sits high on aroof, watching Medusa hang laundry in the baking summer sun. Perseus’s browneyes fit perfectly in her face, and Athena’s eyes are drawn to the swell of thewoman’s stomach.

There’s a shift in theair besides her. “Come to rub my ignorance in my face?”

Aphrodite sighs and leansso they’re shoulder to shoulder. “Dear sister, I would never.”

They sit in silence for amoment, until Athena can take it no longer. “I know you must think me cold–”

Aphrodite bursts intolaughter, and Athena is startled into silence. “Your temper runs hot enough toburn all of Olympus to ashes,” she says cheerfully. “Cold has never been a wordI would use to describe you. Stubborn, of course. Petty, most certainly. Butnever cold.”

“I am the only goddesswithout a lover,” she says blankly, because all know of Artemis and her women,of how Hestia uses her vow of chastity to deter suitors and not much else.

“So?” Aphrodite asks, “Ido not see why that matters. Poseidon beds more people than any of us, and yethe runs as cold as the ocean depths he lives in.”

Athena stares, wide eyed,and admits something to her that she’s never admitted to anyone, “I don’t thinkI was born with the capacity to love anyone.”

Her sister smiles, soft,and says, “Often, love is sacrifice.” Neither of them look to where Medusatakes her blind husband’s hand and places it against her stomach. His laughteris bright and cuts across the air when he feels his child move. “That is an artyou know well, sister.”

For a single moment,Aphrodite’s fingers tangle with hers and there’s warm lips pressed against herforehead.

Then she is alone oncemore.

gods and monsters series part viii

[sartle-blog]

The Handmaid’s Tale: Art History goes Atwood!

In her seminal 1985 novel, The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood paints a nightmarish picture of a post-democracy America. Christian fundamentalists and misogynist despots have scapegoated radical Islamic terror as a pretext for suspending all civil liberties. Environmental irresponsibility has led to toxic food and water and a drop in fertility rates. Female bodies are commodities controlled by the state, gay people and abortion doctors are prosecuted according to Biblical law, and people of color are deported to uninhabitable “colonies.” In short, it is pure fantasy with no relation whatsoever to our current political climate.

Surely it must be The Handmaid’s Tale’s quaint escapism that has made Hulu’s recent adaptation of the novel into the most hotly anticipated series of the season. It might make a light diversion if, in the words of our supreme leader, you’re “sick and tired of all the winning” we’re doing. To aid your diversion, I’ve compiled some examples from art history that prove the hostile patriarchy presented in The Handmaid’s Tale is just a feminist myth, with absolutely no grounding in Western culture.

Handmaids of the Good Book: you won’t see this on VeggieTales!

Dante’s Vision of Rachel and Leah by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, in the Tate Britain.

Margaret Atwood prefaces her novel with a passage from the Bible:

“And when Rachel saw that she bare Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister; and said unto Jacob…Behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto her; and she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her.” – Genesis 30:1-3.

In ye olde Holy Land, Rachel and her sister Leah were sister wives who were also literally sisters. Both married Jacob, patriarch of the 12 Tribes of Israel. The fertile Leah bore him six sons, whereas Rachel had difficulty conceiving. Luckily, biblical patriarchy had a cure for that; namely offering your enslaved women as vessels of childbirth for your husband to inseminate. Rachel’s handmaid Bilhah bore Jacob two sons, who Rachel claimed as her own. Just when everything was going so well, Leah and Jacob’s son Reuben decided he wanted in on the action.

“And it came to pass, while Israel dwelt in that land, that Reuben went and lay with Bilhah his father’s concubine.” – Genesis 35:22

Reuben brought dishonor to the family by plowing with his father’s heifer, but Bilhah, the passed-around handmaid with the “for rent” sign on her womb got the real raw end of this sick family deal.

This ancient stone carving of a woman squatting in childbirth in the arms of midwives invokes Bilhah bearing “upon [Rachel’s] knees,” and Atwood’s description of mistresses holding handmaids between their knees during sex and labor.

There are no new ideas in Hollywood the Bible

Don’t think that Bilhah’s story is unique in the Bible. A similar story has been an inspiration to artists for centuries. Abraham, father of Israel, was married to Sarah, reputedly the most beautiful woman in all the world. After a lot of wandering in the desert, Sarah was getting on in years and was still childless. Solution? Offer up her Egyptian handmaid Hagar to do the dirty deed for her.  

“I pray thee; go in unto my maid; it may be that I may obtain children by her.” – Genesis 16:3

Hagar by Edmonia Lewis, in the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

Edmonia Lewis, a female African American sculptor of the Civil War period, certainly had reason to be interested in the narrative of an enslaved African woman subjected to reproductive abuse. White male European artists had also long been fascinated by the story, possibly more captivated by the bizarre kink factor than issues of subjugation.

Sarah Leading Hagar to Abraham by Matthias Stom, in the Gemaldegalerie.

We’re talking about Western-European art history here, so Hagar is of course an alabaster-skinned blonde. Even Edmonia Lewis used the colorless power of marble to give us a racially ambiguous Hagar. The Bible tells us she was Egyptian. History tells us she may have been black, since Egyptian slaves were typically prisoners of war captured from Nubia and other parts of predominantly black Africa.

Miraculously, Sarah did get pregnant in her old age, and consequently said to Hagar, “Beyotch, get the f#ck out of mah tent!”  so Hagar and her son Ishmael were banished into the desert.

Detail of Hagar in the Wilderness by Camille Corot, in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Presumably, Hagar is grieving because she and Ishmael are lost in the wilderness, but her face says, “No, I’m pissed off because this is the thanks I get for all the gross old man sex.”

Sally Hemings: An American “Handmaid”

Thomas Jefferson by Mather Brown, in the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery (left). This portrait of an eighteenth-century, mixed-race woman (right) gives some idea of what Sally Hemings might have looked like.

Sally Hemings makes a disturbingly cohesive follow-up to the biblical prototype of a captive African woman forced to bear children. Confederate Civil War diarist Mary Chesnut was brutally honest in her assessment of black-white concubinage in the antebellum South, and her association of slavery with patriarchal marriage in Judeo-Christian culture:

“Like the patriarchs of old, our men live all in one house with their wives and their concubines…this is not worse than the willing sale most women make of themselves in marriage…The Bible authorizes marriage and slavery…poor women! Poor slaves!”

Sally Hemings made headlines recently because PBS controversially labeled her as having had a 40-year “relationship” with Thomas Jefferson, whom she bore 6 children. The critics are right that an enslaved person is incapable of a consensual relationship, not to mention that Sally was a minor (by modern standards) when a middle-aged Jefferson started sleeping with her. In the least sinister of a multitude of horrifying scenarios, captive women were coerced into sex with their masters. In the worst cases, they were violently raped. But is it fair to say that Sally’s was the latter case? It should be noted that she chose to leave France, where she was free, to return to Virginia with Jefferson when he promised to free their children. This is not a justification. Slam Poet Clint Smith poignantly asks,  “…did you think there was honor in your ultimatum?” The fact that Jefferson never freed Sally herself, even on his deathbed, speaks to a twisted dynamic of control.

This Portrait of Dido Elizabeth Belle and Lady Elizabeth Murray in Scone Palace, attributed to Johann Zoffany, evokes the conflicted situation in which Sally may have found herself. Dido, though not enslaved herself, was the daughter of a British officer and an African slave. This portrait reflects her experience as a beloved, but not quite equal member of an elite white family.

The irony of Thomas Jefferson, who proclaimed in our Declaration of Independence, “all men are created equal,” owning and sexually abusing slaves speaks for itself. We should neither defend nor deny the heinous circumstances of his fathering children with Sally Hemings, but this remarkable woman endured a lifetime of bondage and produced generations of American families. Why not regard her as what she is? One of our founding mothers, as worthy of respect and study as Abigail Adams or Martha Washington.

Is Sally not, in a perverse way, the story of America? Are we a nation founded on freedom, or on concubinage of enslaved women? Michelle Obama is descended from both slaves and slave masters, and as first lady, woke up every day in “a house that was built by slaves,” (the White House). What is that if not a testament to who we are as a nation, at once powerfully inspiring and deeply unsettling. Margaret Atwood’s novel of a crippled American civilization surviving on the backs and bellies of captive women has never been more relevant, yet perhaps it is as much a story of where we are, as where we came from.

Don’t take my word for it, decide for yourself. Tune into The Handmaid’s Tale on Hulu, or better yet, read the book!

By: Griff Stecyk

[riverdamien]

Walk In Love!

Walk in Love! “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children and walk in love, as Christ loved us. And gave himself for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Ephesians 5:1-2 ESV --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On a bright day in late April, birds singing, the smell of new life in the air, the Board of Ordained Ministry, voted to ordain me to ministry. In the summary statement of the interview committee was the comment: "He is young, so we understand why River does not truly understand the darkness of evil in life, but as he ages, he will grow in that knowledge." Eight years later on a cold night in Hollywood I came face to face with evil in holding a knife to a man's throat, who attempted to rape me. I caught myself. dropped the knife, and walked away. That moment, the moment in which I came close to killing someone, haunted me, and still haunts me. For the first time I saw how evil we can become. I pulled away, but facing the reality it was still within me. Two years later on Polk Street, eighteen year old Sean commented, "You must have done something really bad to want to help us." At that time I was trying to atone for my sins, seeking to become "perfect", but now it is out of being touched by Jesus, and out of my deep love for him, who holds me in his hands. We aim for perfection, and in failing, Jesus holds us. We are a mixture of good and evil, and yet we are made in the "image of God," and as we "work out our salvation," we can can become "imitators of God," we can become "a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." – Br. Luke Ditewig, ssje says to us: “Hospitality, welcoming the stranger, is essential in the desert. We are all in the desert, bearing the challenges and difficulties of our journey. None of us can survive on our own. God welcomes us, offering sustenance and companionship. No matter what appears to be ours, what we claim to possess, all is a gift. We are God’s guests”. Two men are role models on this journey of "working out our salvation" . One is former President Jimmy Carter. In his own personal struggle, he shines brightly as one who is "working out his salvation." He lives simply, follows his faith. Whether he was a good president or not does not matter--what matters is he is a a man of compassion and an example of one who sees himself as a "guest in the desert." The second is Father Henri Nouwen, who struggled all of his life, and found himself working with the disabled as he "worked out his salvation", and leaves us with these words: "Personally, as my struggle reveals, I don't often "feel" like a beloved child of God. But I know that is my most primal identity and I know that I must choose it above and beyond hesitation. . Strong emotions, self-rejection, and even self-hatred justifiably toss you about, but you are free to respond as you will. You are not what others, or even you, think about yourself. You are not what you do. You are not what you have. You are a full member of the human family, having been known before you were conceived and molded in your mother’s womb. In times when you feel bad about yourself, try to choose to remain true to the truth of who you really are. Look in the mirror each day and claim your true identity. Act ahead of your feelings and trust that one day your feelings will match your convictions. Choose now and continue to choose this incredible truth. As a spiritual practice claim and reclaim your primal identity as beloved daughter or son of a personal Creator." In our most primal selves we are created in the image of God, we are called "to be imitators of God," and in struggling to do so, we find the best in us and each person we encounter. We are guests in the desert, and as God shows us hospitality, so are we to show hospitality to others. Let us walk in love! Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God." Deus Meus et Omnia, "My God and All Things." ---------------------------------------- Fr. River Damien Sims, sfw., D.Min., D.S.T. P.O. Box 642656 San Francisco, CA 94164 www.temenos.org 415-305-2124 temenos@gmail.com