#because he's the pike that opens its mouth knowing full well that the fox might eat it nevertheless

[invinciblerodent]

i swear, every time I play Iona for even the shortest time (just did the hag quest, it was done very quick), I get new feelings that I then don't fully know what to do with

(she probably relates to Mayrina in more ways than just the whole "being insufferably pretty (see above)" and "partner is undead and there's not much to do about that" angles)

And right now i'm thinking mainly from the "lost little girl married village boy far too young" angle, but there's also the "husband became someone you don't quite recognize" and the "shackled by duty to a relationship that is -whether literally or figuratively- no more than dead weight" aspects that have me wanting to eat aquarium gravel

I like to think that Iona; loveless as her marriage was; really WANTED to love Herric. For like the first decade or two; she wanted to love him so much, because, by all means, it SHOULD have worked well. They should have been a success story.

They were similar ages (though her slightly older), they were members of the same community, and, young as he was, he was also handsome enough- not to mention that, hidden as her real self was, everyone was saying that they were a good match. He loved her with the textbook puppy love of young men, and she -she supposed- liked the attention, and the safety marrying "Birchlight's boy" gave her, cementing her position in the community even despite her and her father coming in as outsiders, and as fey folk.

But that wasn't enough.

It soon became apparent that what they each loved wasn't the other, but the idea of the other: he loved the thought of having a docile, unremarkable, but unaging, pretty, and sexually available elven maiden wife (who'd give him many pretty half-elven children), and she liked being married to a kind dolt of a man whose "normalcy" could cast a wide enough shadow to conceal her as well.

Neither was anywhere near the truth.

I think this is why I love playing with honesty and dishonesty between her and Astarion so much, because while they both have ample experience leading people by their noses, when it comes to each other, they're both mostly aware of the deception from the first moment on. They know that what they're seeking from the other isn't love, they play at courtship, play this fox-and-pike game while masquerading as cat and mouse, and they both know it's fake very well, until it suddenly isn't, and they're both kind of left stumbling in the dark, trying to find each other.

This is why I love the headcanon I have that, following his act 3 romance scene, her own little scene (so her big character development moment) is them using the tadpole to meld their minds.

Until then, she never allowed anyone into her mind willingly and avoided using the tadpole whenever possible, but... it's such a gesture of trust, for her, to not just allow, but invite him in like that!!!! and not even with any ulterior motive, but just because she can't think of another way to show him that the her that's deepest in her mind, the most private, most well-guarded part of her, is one who loves him.

Just.

I love their fucked up love so much, man

[ghelikblack]

Monin hou - excerpt

I find myself in need of assistance. What do you think of this little chapter?

Bellamy enters skaikru’s small communal area, hair still damp from the shower and muscles aching after another sparring match with Clarke, Echo, and Roan. He has accepted the fact that he will never be able to properly spar with Clarke. Whenever they’re alone in the ring, they default to their teasing dance, giving each other light pats in passing. They build up a sweat, but it’s not exactly the same. 

The fight with the two az was, on the other hand, intense and brutal.

He sits down close to a group of skairku and pulls his book from the back pocket of his pants. 

He recognizes Josh’s broad shoulders and crooked nose instantly. He’s missing two teeth, and he keeps his balding hair cropped short. The man used to work repairing shoes, back on the Ark. He lived five doors down Bellamy’s corridor and had been close to finding out about Octavia many times since he often dropped unexpectedly at their compartment to flirt with Aurora. Bellamy never liked his greasy smile or the strange lisp he had, but he had been kind to Aurora and Bellamy. Even after the former was floated, Josh kept stopping by every once in a while to ask how he was doing. 

The former factory station shoemaker is surrounded by a large group of arkers, none of which belong to the delinquents. “Pike had the right idea," Josh boasts, loud and clear for everyone to hear. A few couches down, Harper shudders, as she takes her place beside Monty. They’re sitting with Miller and Jackson, playing cards. “If it weren’t for Kane, a lot more of us would’ve survived.”

“No.”

The group turns to Bellamy. Josh’s eyes twinkle, a small smile toying at the corners of his full mouth. “Ah! Bellamy. I was starting to wonder where you were. Come, sit with us. There’s plenty of room.”

Bryan scoots a little to the side to make room for him. Something in his belly twists when he stands up and wanders over to them. The smile on Josh’s face grows. “As I was saying…”

“I heard what you were saying. And you are wrong.”

The group frowns at him. “Is that so?”

“It wasn’t Kane who gave Pike up to the grounders. It was me. And it wasn’t Kane who made a deal with the grounders to share the bunker. It was Clarke and me.”

“Clarke,” growls a small farm station woman Bellamy doesn’t know. He can feel the hostility like an electric charge aimed at him. His skin prickles. 

“How could you?” grumbles Josh, a deep frown settling on his brow.

“Because Pike wanted to start executing our people.”

“Only traitors.”

“Our people. Pike was supposed to stop them from dying. Not add to the danger. He wanted to execute Sinclair and Kane. Would’ve killed Miller and Harper. He succeeded in killing Lincoln.”

“That grounder scum wasn’t our people.”

Bellamy feels his blood boil. He presses his fists into his thighs. “He was as much skaikru as any other of the hundred. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have survived.”

“You have to admit…”

“I have to admit jack shit!” snaps Bellamy and the man – Peter, factory station – shrinks back slightly. “Where were you during Mount Weather? Where were you during the Dropship battle? Lincoln was banished from his tribe, rejected by his family for helping us. You weren’t there, you don’t know anything about grounders, so shut the fuck up.”

“We are all friends here, Bellamy,” says Josh in a conciliatory tone. 

“Then listen to me. I know how you’re feeling. But if you keep this up, you’re getting us all killed.”

“We only want what is best for our people, Bellamy,” the petite woman he doesn’t know smiles at him. “Surely you can understand that.”

“You know I’ve always done what was best for our people,” he spits through gritted teeth.  

“So why are you doing Clarke’s bidding?”

“He always does what Clarke asks him to,” smirks someone. “The good little soldier by his queen’s side.”

Bellamy’s blood runs cold. It takes him a moment to understand how this guy he has never spoken to before could know something like that. How he could’ve chosen exactly the same words Raven used. And it hits him: he was in the City of Light. This random person knows and, like him, everyone who ever took the chip. Red-hot anger courses through his veins. It’s blinding, and it burns nearly as much as it hurts. He feels naked and betrayed like never before, and for an agonizing moment, he’s nothing but flames. 

Then his fist connects with the man’s jaw,  they tumble to the floor in a tangle of flying limbs.

+++

Bellamy blinks his eyes open. He’s lying on an uncomfortable cot in the detention bay, two floors beneath skaikru’s quarters. Carefully, he sits up. They haven’t restrained him, but the barred door is closed. His head throbs in time with his heartbeat and when he touches his brow, its tender. Nothing seems broken, but his left-hand aches and the bandages he used to cover the wound across his palm are soaked in blood. 

“What the hell, Bellamy?”

He snaps his head up, which is a mistake. He has to close his eyes to swallow the sudden wave of nausea. Sitting on a metal bench on the other side of the bars Monty frowns at him. 

“Hi, Monty. How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough for you to sleep the tranq off. What happened?”

Bellamy shrugs, leaning his head against the brick wall. “I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s not good enough. Fred has lost three teeth. And I’m pretty sure his nose was broken.” He drops his eyes to the floor so that he doesn’t have to deal with Monty’s disappointed stare. “You’ve always been smarter than that. So, what happened?” Bellamy pulls at the blood-soaked rag around his left hand. It probably needs stitches, but he’s not about to go to med-bay with it. “You need to get your shit together.”

“I think… I think this…” he swallows the rest of the sentence. The words feel wrong. Monty is right he needs to get his act together. Clearly sparring and keeping to himself isn’t working. He’ll have to find another way. What does it matter that some jackass knows about his feelings for Clarke? That they see the guilt, he’s hauling around? That every stranger that knows exactly which buttons to press, knows how to plunge the knife for the kill? 

Of course, that's nothing compared to killing your own mom.

Bellamy tramps that thought as hard as he can, but the monster in the darkness is growling in delight. You might as well just shoved Aurora out of the airlock yourself. 

“You’re right.” He tries to ignore the monster lurking in the darkness. “I’ll get my shit together.”

Monty frowns. “Look, I know that what we have done is horrible. But we can’t let that be what defines us. You told us that we had to be fighters to survive.”

Bellamy chuckles without humor. “I also told Charlotte to slay her own demons. Ended up killing Wells.” He looks up at Monty. “In case you hadn't noticed, I am not a very good advice-giver.”

“You kept us alive this long.”

“Tell that to Jasper.” Monty flinches, his face going pale. “Or Fox, or Roma, or Monroe... to Finn.”

“Look I know we’ve lost…”

“Do you know how many people I’ve killed since I got to Earth?” Monty presses his lips together, but Bellamy seems to have lost control over his own mouth. “One thousand, seventy-five. One thousand, five-hundred thirty-eight if you count all the arkadian’s that didn’t make it into the bunker. And don’t tell me that there wasn’t enough room. Because the truth is, I killed them when I saved twenty prisoners in farm station. From which only eight made it into the bunker. So, don’t tell me how I’ve kept you alive because I had one job and I didn't deliver."

“Your job was to protect your sister.”

Bellamy snorts. He’s vaguely aware that this pity party is pathetic. Monty is right: he should swallow it down and keep going. The rest seem to be getting better, but he’s stuck if not getting worse, his energy slowly draining and he’s afraid of what will happen when he runs out. When there’s nothing left for him to give. 

He looks up at the ceiling, which is easier than looking at the young man sitting across from him. There’s a crack in the plaster, and someone has stuck gum to a corner.

  “But I didn’t, did I?” he sighs. “She was so big when she was born. I know she probably wasn’t, but she looked huge in my arms, was heavy too. I could barely hold her. Her eyes were this pale gray, and she had the softest skin. I knew at that moment that she was the most important person in the whole world. And then I proceeded to keep her hidden like some dirty secret, like something to be ashamed of. She begged and nagged to be left free, but I didn’t, I pushed her under the floor, I sealed the door reducing the oxygen in our compartment by a 13%. And then I had her discovered and thrown in the Sky Box. I got her lover killed. And no matter how much I try, I keep breaking that promise.”

“Bellamy…”

He rolls his head on the wall, too tired to even raise it properly. The bell announcing the imminent curfew interrupts Monty.

Bellamy smiles. “You should go. That bench cannot be comfortable.”

Monty stands up and wanders towards the door, shoulders hunched and head downcast. He stops before he reaches it. “You are not alone, Bellamy.”

He nods, plastering a half smile on his lips, trying to reassure his friend. “I know.”

“Do you? We might not have sisters, but we are still your friends. And we want to help you.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Monty leaves. The arrest hall is significant, with single cells fenced off by tall barred walls, lined on both sides of a long corridor. Bellamy’s alone in the room, all the other cells empty. He takes a deep breath and prepares for a very long night. 

When the curfew starts, the lights snap off, and he’s left in the pregnant darkness. And maybe this is the real punishment. Having to spend the night here, alone with his own poisonous thoughts until someone – Kane, probably- comes and gives him a stern talk-to. 

Bellamy presses his knees against his chest, shying away from the monster and it’s thousand different voices.

Quick question: does this Bellamy come off as extremely OOC?