#boudica story

[mayhaps-a-blog]

Day 29: 51,269 words! Another minor update, but at least I've finished some other projects. What I haven't fixed is my sleep schedule, too many distractions, but I've got an early morning meeting coming up so hopefully I can start correcting tonight or tomorrow!

Last line: Her voice rang through the chamber, echoing as the lights seemed to flicker; the guards against the wall shifted uneasily, and the king frowned.

[tariah23]

Literally

[joncronshawauthor]

Why Fantasy Readers Should Dive into Historical Fiction: 5 Must-Read Novels

As a fantasy reader, you might be drawn to the novels of J.R.R. Tolkien, George R.R. Martin, and other masters of the genre. You revel in the magical realms, mythical creatures, and epic battles that define the world of fantasy literature. But have you ever considered exploring the equally enthralling world of historical fiction? Historical fiction novels share many of the same qualities that…

[shadow-schemer]

oH GOD GALAHAD IS GONNA KICK MY ASS ISNT HE??? HES THE SURPRISE FINAL BOSS IN THIS SINGULARITY ISNT HE? HES GONNA KICK MY ASS I HAVENT SEEN HIM AND NOT ONE MENTION OF THE KNIGHT WHO FOUND THE HOLY GRAIL IN THE MYTH GOD HELP ME I WILL DIE HERE

[the-golden-queen-82]

All the female characters of HOTD: I want peace!

God, imagine if they made Agripinna, Boudica, Empress Matilda, Isabella of Castille, Saint Olga of Kiev, Elizabeth I, Mary I, Margaret Beaufort, Elizabeth Woodville, Isabella of France, Eleanor of Aquataine, Catherine De Medici, Margaret of Anjou, and Lagertha stories like that.

Believe it or not, Ryan & Co., noble women from history, still managed to gain power through their intelligence and military strategies!

[theholmwoodfoundation]

THE HOLMWOOD FOUNDATION PILOT EPISODE CAST/CREW - PART ONE

REBECCA ROOT - MADDIE TOWNSEND/MINA HARKER

Rebecca trained at Mountview Academy of Theatre Arts. Theatre credits include A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Shakespeare’s Globe, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time for the National Theatre (UK and Ireland tour); Rathmines Road for Fishamble at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin; Trans Scripts at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe and American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, Massachusetts; The Bear / The Proposal at the Young Vic; and Hamlet at the Gielgud Theatre and Athens International Festival. TV, Film and Video Game credits include Monsieur Spade, This Is Christmas, Irvine Welsh’s Crime, Hogwarts Legacy, Horizon Forbidden West, Heartstopper, Annika, The Rising, Sex Education, The Gallery, The Queen’s Gambit, Finding Alice, Creation Stories, Last Christmas, The Sisters Brothers, Colette, The Danish Girl, Flack, The Romanoffs, Moominvalley, Hank Zipzer, Boy Meets Girl, Doctors, Casualty, The Detectives, and Keeping Up Appearances.  Radio credits include Clare In The Community, Life Lines, The Hotel, and 1977 for BBC Radio 4. Guest appearances include Woman’s Hour, Front Row, Loose Ends, Saturday Live, and A Good Read.  She plays Tania Bell in the award-winning Doctor Who: Stranded audio dramas. Rebecca has also recorded numerous documentary narrations, audiobooks, and voice-overs. Rebecca is also a voice and speech coach, holding the MA in Voice Studies from Royal Central School of Speech and Drama.

SEAN CARLSEN - JEREMY LARKIN/ JONATHAN HARKER

Born in South Wales, Seán trained at the Royal Welsh College of Music & Drama. He has worked extensively in audio drama, television, theatre and film.  Seán is perhaps best known to Doctor Who fans as Narvin in the Doctor Who audio series Gallifrey and has appeared on TV in Doctor Who - The Christmas Invasion and Torchwood. Recent TV credits include Mudtown (BBCiplayer/S4C), Dal y Mellt (Netflix), His Dark Materials (BBC1), All Creatures Great and Small (Channel 5), A Mother's Love (Channel 4) and Series 5 of Stella (Sky1).  Films include supporting leads in Boudica - Rise of the Warrior Queen, cult horror The Cleansing,  the lead in Forgotten Journeys and John Sheedy’s forthcoming film ‘Never Never Never’

SAM CLEMENS - ARTHUR JONES

Samuel Clemens trained at the Drama Centre London and is an award-winning director with over twenty years’ experience. Samuel has recently written and directed his debut feature film ‘The Waterhouse’ with Take The Shot Films & Featuristic Films and represented by Raven Banner Entertainment, which is due for release this coming year.  In addition, he has directed fourteen short films, winning awards all over the world including shorts ‘Surgery (multi-award winning), A Bad Day To Propose (Straight 8 winner 2021), Say No & Dress Rehearsal’. Samuel also directs critically acclaimed number one UK stage tours and fringe shows (Rose Theatre Kingston, Swansea Grand, Eastbourne, Yvonne Arnaud, Waterloo East Theatre) and commercials include clients JD Sports, Shell and Space NK. Samuel is also a regular producer and director for Big Finish Productions & Anderson Entertainment. He has cast, directed, produced and post supervised numerous productions of ‘Doctor Who – (BBC), The Avengers (Studio Canal), Thunderbirds, Stingray (Anderson Entertainment), Callan, Missy, Gallifrey’& Shilling & Sixpence Investigate’ and many more. Samuel has directed world class talent such as, Sir Roger Moore, Ben Miles, Tom Baker, Sylvester McCoy, Alex Kingston, Frank Skinner, Rita Ora, Rosie Huntingdon-Whiteley, Rufus Hound, David Warner, Celia Imrie, Samuel West, Youssef Kerkour, Sophie Aldred, Ian McNiece, Colin Baker, Olivia Poulet, Stephen Wight, Jade Anouka, Mimi Ndwendi, Michelle Gomez, Peter Davidson, Paul O’Grady and many more. Samuel is one of the founding members and directors at Take The Shot Films Ltd and is Head of Artistic Creation and Direction. Lastly, Samuel is a regular tutor at The London Film Academy, The Giles Foreman Centre for Acting & The Rose Youth Theatre and is a member of The Directors Guild UK. As for upcoming projects, Sam is currently in pre-production on his next feature film “On The Edge of Darkness”, which is based on his dad’s stage play “Strictly Murder”.

ATTILA PUSKAS - DRACULA

Attila Puskás is a native Hungarian Voice Actor born in Transylvania – Romania, so Romanian is in his bag of tricks too, but most of his work is done in English, in a Transatlantic Eastern European Accent, but is quite capable of Hungarian, Romanian and International Eastern European accents, plus Standard American. His voice range is Adult to Middle Aged (30-40+) due to his deep voice. Vocal styles can range from authoritive, brooding to calming and reassuring and much more. He’s most experienced in character work, like Animations and Games, but his skills encompass Commercials to Narration as well. He’s received training through classes and workshops, pushing him to the next level to achieve higher standards. Now on a journey to perfect these skills and put them to good use!

PART TWO: HERE

PART THREE: HERE

[deusvervewrites]

Wildcard AU: reading through this, I realize not many personas were discussed for the Dekusquad, and so, I wanted to give my two cents on who would own which hero, and maybe what their persona does.

Iida: Pheidippides, the one who ran from Marathon to Athens to tell of the Greek's victory against the Persians at the battle of Marathon (where the sport gets the name from) before dying of exhaustion. Wind element with accuracy Debuffs.

Todoroki: Merlin, know for being the advisors to the "Main" hero of the stories (Uther and Arthur Pendragon), with magical powers from an unnatural birth. Magic Damage buffs and single-target elemental spells.

Uraraka: Princess Kaguya, daughter to bamboo cutters (commoners), who grants wealth to her parents from her presence, only to be later out of reach by her own desires. Light element attacks (assuming light can do damage like P5) and Ailment inflicting skills.

Asui: I'd like it to be Jiraiya, but that's been done in P4, so I'm not sure. Electric damage skills and accuracy/evasion buffs.

Yaoyorozu: Boudica, Queen of the Inceni Brittish people and "Lady of Victory" who led an (unsuccessful) uprising against the Roman empire. Navigational (as stated prior)

Inko: Lemminkäinen, Finnish hero who dies in the rivers of the underworld, who's mother fished his remains out with a magic rake, before putting him back together. It would have been the mother instead, but I cannot find her name anywhere. Healing and ailment/debuff neutralizing.

Bakugo: Achilles, one the other most known heroes of Greek myth (mirroring Midoriya), who was a great warrior and invincible in battle, save for a fatal flaw. Physical attack and fire skills with Amps, resistant to physical damage, but not immune.

Eri: Deirdre (as stated), Irish heroine who's beauty was prophesized to bring bloodshed that would kill the three greatest warriors of Ulster. Healing and Ice element magic.

All Might: Samuel Steele, Canadian Mountie and "Lion of the Yukon" who kept the peace between Canadian settlers and the First nation people, and made the Klondike Goldrush into one of the most organized goldrushes in history. Physical attacks and defensive buffs.

Interesting choices. I mentioned Uraraka having Atlanta once but I'm flexible on that if I like something else better. I should also note that not all of Midoriya's social links will end up with Personas of their own.

It hasn't come up but I did decide that Bakugou's eventual Persona is Mwindo

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Do you have any recommendations on Dr. Who books/audio format things? I haven't watched the show in a bit because Moffat wasn't my thing and I can't seem to find the old stuff. (If you have any advice on where to find that too I would be very grateful) Following your blog has been a nice reminder of why I liked the show so much. Hope you have a good day!

Aw thank you! Depending on your location, you can find classic who episodes either on BBC iPlayer or Tubi (with ads).

As for books/audios, I'll try to keep this brief as I could write an essay on this.

For books, my favorite author is Kate Orman. Orman writes wonderfully, and my personal favorite is The Year of the Intelligent Tigers. I also really liked Goth Opera, Camera Obscure, History 101, Autumn Mist, Lungbarrow, Divided Loyalties, Somewhere Never etc etc etc etc (so many more but I'm forcing myself to stop here). You can often find free versions of basically every novel (at least all I've looked for) on the internet either as pdfs or epubs or whatever. The Internet Archive is particularly useful. Some examples:

And now for the audios! I personally have sold my soul to Big Finish. I have literally hundreds of recommendations. They do have some audios for free, such as those that came from the Paul Spragg Memorial Competition. You can also find a lot of them (up until Zagreus I think) for free on Spotify. There is also almost always a killer sale going on on the website on top of that too.

As for my recommendations, it's pretty dependent on what Doctor or companion you want to listen to. They even have series centered on UNIT, Romana's Gallifrey, Benny Summerfield, and a ton of other things (including a Masterful special that just had a bunch of Masters fucking around and finding out). I'll put in some of my favorites, one for each Doctor, from what I own (which is far from everything, but I do my best).

One: The Sontarans. It was the first time the Doctor had ever encountered the Sontarans, so he was unfamiliar with them. It takes place during Dalek Master Plan, so Steven and Sara are there.

Two: Lords of the Red Planet! It's a good Ice Warrior origin story and has Jamie and Zoe in it. :)

Three: Terror of the Master. I had pre-ordered it as soon as I heard about it. Three....Delgado Master....what more do you want from an audio? It's narrated by Jon Culshaw.

Four: The Wrath of the Iceni. It was a brilliant historical with Four and Leela and Boudica. Leela gets quite a lesson in this one, first being mad at Four for not helping Boudica and then at Boudica for being cruel.

Okay now we are getting into my favorite Doctors (5-8), so these decisions are going to get difficult.

Five: The Kingmaker! Shakespeare spikes Five's drink to get him absolutely wasted to sneak on the TARDIS, the TARDIS gets hiccups as a result, leading to Peri and Erimem being separated from the Doctor. Shenanigans ensue.

Six: Doctor Who and the Pirates. Six and Evelyn have a really meaningful discussion with one of her depressed students. The third part is a musical!

Seven: The Shadow of the Scourge. Benny Ace and Seven against 8th dimensional eldritch abominations. Seven gets turned into one of these insectoids, and body horror ensues.

Eight: Oh dear I can't choose. At the moment, probably the Great War from Dark Eyes 1. Eight meets Molly and is still grieving here. He is very much doomed by the narrative.

War: The Neverwhen. Lots of the War Doctor is good if you like Time War horror, but this one has a lot of time-as-a-weapon and is well written.

Nine: Battle Scars. A nice short story about that one family Nine saved from the Titanic mentioned in the episode Rose. Has a really fantastic girl in it and a Nine dripping in PTSD.

Ten: The Time Reaver. Ten and Donna! There's this gun that basically slows down time for a single person, so that a few minutes for everyone else is centuries for them. Ten is a self sacrificing dope.

Eleven: The Geronimo boxset is the best in my opinion, but I haven't been able to listen to many of these yet.

Twelve: Another one I haven't managed to buy a lot of yet, but Dead Media is amazing. It's written to sound like a podcast with adverts and everything and is set during his time at St. Luke's. And I cried at the end.

Anyway, I'll shut up now. This was so much fun! Thank you!

[myemuisemo]

Part 10 of "Letters from Watson" of The Sign of the Four starts with Sherlock Holmes enthusiastically infodumping.

He appeared to be in a state of nervous exaltation. I have never known him so brilliant. He spoke on a quick succession of subjects,—on miracle-plays, on medieval pottery, on Stradivarius violins, on the Buddhism of Ceylon, and on the war-ships of the future,—handling each as though he had made a special study of it. His bright humor marked the reaction from his black depression of the preceding days.

I wondered "why these topics in particular?"

Miracle plays were, in 1890, the subject of a new book by Alfred W. Pollard of the British Museum. It received a positive review in The Spectator.

The Arts & Crafts Exhibition Society had its first exhibition in London in 1888. While handicrafting, the William Morris aesthetic, and such, had been around for a while by then, this was the big organized push for public attention. Not only did the Arts & Crafts movement draw on medieval influences, but many a UK pottery maker was on the site of a medieval kiln and interested in medieval techniques.

Stradivarius violins are, of course, the sought-after antique violin. There were at least two donated to the Musée de la Musique in Paris shortly before the time of this story, as well as a number getting heard by important violinists in important orchestras. Even more interestingly from Holmes' point of view, a factory in Germany had just started making Stradivarius copies.

Buddhism in Sri Lanka had lapsed into torpor in the early 19th century but was, by 1890, well into a resurgence. The kick-off, back in 1866, had been Buddhist monk Mohottivatte Gunananda challenging Christian missionaries to a debate. In 1890, he had just died; but he had founded a political movement.

As for war-ships, in 1889, the Naval Defense Act had passed. It called for the UK Navy to be maintained at least twice as large as the combined navies of the next two largest powers (then France and Russia). War ships -- both quantity and design -- had doubtless been in the news for a while.

These aren't obscure hyperfixations (though I'm all for obscure hyperfixations!). These are conversational topics appropriate for a well-read gentleman of the era: the sort who gets three or four newspapers, reads the book reviews, and then reads the books reviewed. This explains how Dr. Watson and Athelney Jones set him off, or even participated in the conversation.

We also, while on a boat, get the return of Winwood Reade's Martyrdom of Man (making it Chekhov's book reference?). Says Holmes of Reade:

“He remarks that, while the individual man is an insoluble puzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical certainty. You can, for example, never foretell what any one man will do, but you can say with precision what an average number will be up to. Individuals vary, but percentages remain constant. So says the statistician."

Statistics was not new -- scholarly sorts had become engaged with statistics during the Enlightenment -- but it was in the early stages of being systematized into the mathematical field we know today. Holmes sounds like he would have been a fan of Francis Ysidro Edgeworth's Metre-like: Or the Method of Measuring Probability and Utility, published in 1887, since it attempted to use probability as the basis of inductive reasoning.

Then we have a boat chase.

I love the boat chase. I feel like the boat chase might have contributed to inspiration for the train chase in Nicholas Meyers' The Seven Percent Solution, though I also feel that a train chase needs no justification other than "we have two trains and a problem."

Our heroes leave from Westminster Wharf, which I'm assuming is roughly today's Westminster Pier, which had not yet received its statue of Boudica. (Westminster is conveniently southeast of Marylebone, where Baker Street is located.) So that long gentle curve is the river past St. Paul's and the Tower of London and under multiple bridges. They pick up the Aurora about where the river heads into that first shallow down-curve and chase it up and down, around the Isle of Dogs, up past Greenwich, and around the down curve at Blackwall. So they must catch it as the river starts to straighten and widen.

A pleasure tour from Westminster Pier to Greenwich today takes about an hour, but those are the boats their launch was passing like they were standing still. The Eva, a Thames Steam Launch of the appropriate era, was one of the speediest of the time and could achieve 16.5 miles/hour.

Then... I really would have preferred an actual monkey. We've now had in this chapter so many reminders of the achievements of European, particularly English, civilization that the avalanche of adjectives framing the Andaman Islander as primitive stands out as a deliberate counterpoint, despite the inclusion of Ceylon and Winwood Reade. Will we ever know what the Andaman Islander Accomplice's motivations were? (If yes, will I wish even more fervently that we'd just stuck with a monkey?)

I love the boat chase, though.

[mayhaps-a-blog]

Day 24: 48,035 words. The end is nigh! Just 2,000 more to go, and I'm hoping to make it to a write-in on Sunday; I'll try to get some words in tomorrow, if only for the daily update badge (those badges are so tempting, I'm still annoyed I missed the "make daily par" badge even if doing so probably saved my sleep and my sanity). But I am at least quite confident I can finish by next Thursday, and maybe even get a few more words in besides! That, or sleep. One of the two :)

Last line: She would not fail, she would not fall, against some foolish queen in the empty north. Her story would not end there.

[nero-draco]

Mash mentioned three Counts when discussing who is the Alien God "Count", that is Count Vlad, Dantes, and Cagliostro. Based on Marie testimony (of hearing the Count voices feeling nostalgic) and her impression of him, they come to suspect that it's Cagliostro.

Dantes come out of nowhere and interject that it's possibly Cagliostro. Apparently Dantes is acquintance with Cagliostro. He met him at 1838 and he mentioned that Cagliostro is long lived / immortal.

Dante then leave and then was shown walking on corridor leaving traces of blood / bleeding.

Kadoc then comes to Guda, he still suspect Dantes and that voice alone can easily be changed. Or at rather he was trying to nudge Guda to not blindly trusting people, but he still leave the decision to Guda.

Emergency happened as Chaldea summoning system operates on itself all of sudden. Mash, Vinci and others think its not possible as it has to pass through various security and was simply confused at why the machine work on itself. And it appears the one who is summoned is Star Hassan, who acts as if he's familiar with Guda and mention how he fought alongside Guda in Tokyo much to everyone's confusion. They then came to conlusion that Star Hassan met Guda in the future.

Then Dantes appears and it somehow kind of create tension between him and Star Hassan. Just about Guda trying to break their fight they suddenly lose consciousness.

And then Guda woke up in Tokyo with the related servants somehow being his friends/family/teacher in his life.

Some of them are:

Jeanne Alter: Alter / Orita (Delinquent)

Mandricardo: Ricardo (Guda's school friend)

Osakabehime: Himeko (Guda's school friend)

Mash Kyrielight: Kyrie (Guda's junior, neighbor, and childhood friend)

Da Vinci: Guda's mother

Da Vinci Lily: Guda's younger sister

Salieri: Teacher

Boudica: Teacher

Mozart: Music student popular by the girls

Marie: Student Council President

Star Hassan: Hassan (Transfer student).

There's also blue flame creature (similar to Dantes' flame) attacking Guda at least twice as far as I am in the story. Guda still retain his memories and can still summon temporary servants to fight them.

[raxistaicho]

Jumping on the Nemesis train. Yes, Edie never said he's a hero.

But let's say she did. Why does it negatively speak of her?

Now, opinions on historical figures are important, because they can illustrate modern trends. If someone casts Stalin or Beria as an awesome guy, disregarding all evidence to the contrary, I will suspect them of dictatorial tendencies and general lack of empathy.

Thing is, no one in Fódlan knows anything about Nemesis. Church story is blatantly untrue, it straight up features ‘evil gods’. So let’s say, for example, we, as a society, knew nothing of Boudica, aside from the fact she fought Romans and lost. If I were to praise her as a hero for resisting her oppressors, I would be totally justified in doing so, because that’s what her image would amount to. There is no innate value in historical truth, even if it could exist -- the value is contextual and connected to the values and knowledge at the time of discussion.

Now, if Edelgard started a war based on this conjecture, that would be wrong. But she doesn’t. She starts a war because the CoS and the nobility are garbage.

Those are also some good points, but don't forget that Audience Awareness Advantage is a thing and Edelgard's detractors judge her opinion on Nemesis as though she should be aware of his story.

[zeravmeta]

You know now that you brought it up multiple times: how would FGO work as a console game? You think they would add/change some stuff in the story? And how would they progress along with the events?

My main fear is that, Nasu being Nasu, the moment he tries to or even have inkling of an idea to do a port, he'll rewrite the whole damn thing, dragging Higa and Sakurai with him.

fgo as a console release would be laughably Easy: Bread and butter standard type moon visual novel

Like i feel it bears repeating but for as used to FGOs gameplay loop that we've gotten, would anyone really say its actually... good? fun? maybe sometimes during challenge quests or grail fronts (fgos best gameplay innovation tbh), but overall it's not exactly fulfilling the way other gachas may entice people with their gameplay (see my other two gachas Arknights and Alchemy Stars) A console port of FGO as a proper visual novel would be spectacular, and moreover, your point on rewriting? I would 100% take a remastered streamlined experience. IF and honestly WHEN there are rewrites, Id suspect they would only change out some of the early game stuff (and also agartha) to actually have some substance (see. boudicas interlude voted Worst In Game and Artemis having 3 [count em on your fingers] interludes that are all basically the same interlude). Were there certain advantages to the experience of FGO being a gacha? i would say yeah, I think there are absolutely memorable moments as a community experienced where all players contributing to things like raids or the mad dash of spoilers to parse what the hell happened on a different server were all fun, but an FGO reconceptualized proper vn release would be just that: reconceptualized. it would be done after the fact, a remaster taking the best part of fgo from the past decade

Would there be a non visual novel gameplay element to it? MAYBE, in a game this extensive I would not be surprised if there were equally extensive cuts made to the roster for the conceptualized console release (this is in part what I suspect that FGO arcade may have existed to test), but i dont think it would be impossible, as other visual novel series' like Danganronpa or 999, Ace Attorney and the like all have other gameplay elements integrated as part of their visual novel experiences. for a game with like, what, 400+ playable characters each with their own profiles, event appearances and (mostly) unique interludes per character? YEAH, that would be a truly herculean task to port, so I would not be surprised if there were character cuts or massive downsizing, which would also mean your special scrimblus blimbos doesnt get in. However, I do think it would ultimately be an improvement

Overall. Yes. ive psychically brainwashed nasu with my mystic eyes to give the go ahead on mahoyosweep and tsukihimesweep to bolster the visual novel audience across the globe and prepare the perfect stage for the fgo console release

[talibunny30]

Echoes of Resilience

Chapter Seven - Never the Victim

Nesta relives a harrowing night Boudica comes to the rescue

*TW: depictions of rape/near rape encounter*

Jump in time at ~-~-~-~ POV change at *’*’*’*

This chapter fought me almost every step of the way! I have to focus on my dialogue skills, so if this is a bit stilted, I swear I am trying!!

To my betas: @shadowsandlint - I hope all is well while you are afk 🖤🖤 @somnolentsoul - may His face shine upon you 🖤🖤 @brunetterebel010 - welcome to the madhouse :)) I am so grateful that you are here!! 🙌

Let the banter begin...?

Read on AO3 here

Chapter begins after the cut

“This house is a bloody furnace,” Nesta whispered to no one, tossing off the furs as she rose from the cot Boudica so graciously allowed Nesta to sleep in the night before their epic quest would begin. 

Thoughts and memories of Feyre and all the ways she had scarred her during their shared childhood pulled sleep out of Nesta's grasp; just as it had done since that fateful last night in their hovel. 

It was better this way. At least she could avoid the nightmares. In that dream world Nesta had no control over what she let bother her. Here and now, there was the illusion that she was not perturbed by the many things she wished she had done differently in years gone by. 

“Being born to a different mother would have been a good start,” Nesta muttered to herself. 

Keeping her steps silent, she walked slowly over the wooden floors on socked feet making her way to the only entrance and exit of Boudica's not-so-humble abode. Being a sell-sword seemed to pay well if this stone-walled, two-storied house was anything to go by. However, money could not buy taste. 

This was evident in the stag's head mounted above the roaring hearth, and the tacky placement of paintings containing obviously naked men and women. Not to mention the fact that Boudica lacked any eye for colour, what with nearly every shade of the rainbow making an appearance in the gauzy curtains now closed for the evening, a strange misshapen rug placed in between two armchairs of entirely different styles, and a bookshelf that appeared as if a child had gotten their hands on it with every paint available. 

“What would you know of style, girl? You are what we made of you, down to the very hue of your eyes.” Nesta froze as that hateful voice slithered up her spine, and wrapped its claws around her throat. 

That grip on her transformed from icy tendrils of years long past to the rough and sweaty hand of her least favourite memory. Nesta was transported back to that godsforsaken barn, her heartbeat became erratic as she relived the night she never told a single soul about.

~-~-~-~

“You think you're better than me, huh Nesta? I can see it in your eyes! It's a good thing I don't give a fuck about what you think. All you'll be good for as my wife is a warm place to wet my cock. Better test the merchandise, before my father wastes his money on a cold, dead fish.” 

Nesta could feel the crunch of the hay under the soles of her worn boots, could smell the stale sweat and booze permeating from Tomas as he shoved her against a beam, his other hand already untying the laces of his trousers. 

He moved his hand to palm at her breasts, sliding down her ribs, her hip bone, and she could feel the too-hot pads of his fingers grappling for purchase as he began to gather the layers of her skirts. All the while, the pressure on her throat remained steady, pinning her in place and leaving her unable to make any sound. A string of “no, no, no” and “please don't do this” stuck on her tongue with no escape from behind the cage of her chattering teeth.

The ripping of her undergarments unleashed some hidden thing within her. Her hands flung out on instinct and she gripped Tomas’ face, jamming her thumbs into his eye sockets with all her might. Without even thinking, she drove her knee up with a force she did not know her skin-and-bones frame could muster. 

As Tomas crumpled to the ground with an anguished groan, he had no choice but to release his death grip on Nesta's throat; the cold winter air burning her lungs as she took her first full breath in minutes. 

She scrambled away from him, suddenly feeling like a wild animal, trapped and all alone. “Don't you ever touch me again. If you come near me or my family again, I will cut off your favourite part and feed it to the crows. Consider our betrothal finished!” Nesta snapped at him, backing away toward the barn doors. 

When she could feel the soft caress of the snow-laced breeze, Nesta ran towards their cottage, trying, and failing, to corral that wolf back into its cage. 

As she reached what was now home, the lack of firelight meant that there would be no prying eyes to see her return, but surely the marks on her throat she knew would be there come morning, would raise a few questions from the remaining Archerons? 

Her mind began to work as her panting breaths eased. “Mother told me to ice my sprained ankle to avoid bruising so that I did not miss my dance lessons.” She remembered, and walked to the thick snow bank at the side of their cottage. 

Nesta's skin felt hot from all that had just taken place, but that did nothing to still her trembling hands as she settled with her back pressed against the broadside of their cottage and packed the snow around her throat. 

Rivulets of melted snow ran down her chest and soaked into her dress, but Nesta just kept replacing the snow that had thinned to ensure there would be minimal visible proof of what she had endured tonight. 

Placing her hands over her ears, Nesta let the tears finally fall. They ran down the same tracks the melted snow already made, mingling with the evidence of what Tomas tried, and failed, to accomplish tonight. 

“Still whole, still pure, still here. Still whole, still pure, still here,” she whispered to herself, rocking slowly side to side so as not to disturb the cooling touch of her ice necklace. 

*’*’*’*

Boudica woke with a start at the sound of something crashing downstairs. She rose to her elbows and listened for any further disturbances that would warrant her leaving the warm cocoon of her bed. 

Just as she was finding sleep again, a distinctive thump sounded from the floor below. 

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Boudica rose from her slumber to investigate, all of a sudden remembering that she did not inhabit her home alone tonight. 

"If that cuckoo clock of a woman broke into my booze stash, I'm gonna be so pissed,” Boudica thought to herself as she trudged across her bedroom, grabbing her favourite dagger for good measure. 

She knew stealth was not her friend and didn't even try to be silent as she walked her hulking frame down creaky wooden stairs. 

Swaggering into the room where all the noise had come from, Boudica thought she could use a short stint of violence to whet her appetite for this upcoming not-exactly-a-hike she had agreed to, so she taunted any possible fool that may have entered her home at this late hour. 

“Do ya even know whose house ya broke into? If ya leave now, ya might make it out with ya life.”

The sight that she was met with instantly deflated the ego boost she had already started cultivating from her imagined victory of a fight she realised now was not going to happen. 

Tucked so tightly against the far wall of the main living room sat Nesta, her hands clutched over her ears, her legs drawn in tight under her chin with silent tears streaming down her face. 

Nesta was mumbling something that was lost to human hearing as she gently rocked herself from side to side. Her eyes had a glazed-over look, clearly trapped in a place that was far from here. 

From her years in the trenches, Boudica could recognise this for what it was. Some men from her previous company of sell-swords would relive their brush with death, having no control over when it seized them. 

Though Boudica couldn't imagine what this little princess could possibly have experienced in her coddled little life to warrant this type of reaction. Perhaps her mother had denied a marriage to some commoner? A stable boy, or someone like that? 

Shaking her head to dislodge that harsh way of thinking, Boudica took small steps toward Nesta, constantly speaking to her and saying her name, all to lessen any shock factor once she finally reached out to touch her. 

“Come on princess, snap out of it. You're gonna be beat when we gotta leave.”

Boudica purposely scuffed her feet in the hopes that her heavy steps would bring Nesta back from wherever it seemed she had gone to. 

“Nesta, come back to the land of the livin’. We got so much stuff to prep for our hike.”

Another few steps, reaching her hands out, palms facing Nesta. 

“Hey, princess,” she said in a sing-song voice, “you're freakin’ me out here. I don't wanna have to touch ya, Hel, I've got some gnarly hands, but I'll do it if I gotta.”

Having reached the other end of the room, Boudica knelt in front of Nesta. Seeing that her eyes remained glazed over, she knew there was no other way to coax Nesta out of her waking nightmare. 

Boudica slowly brought her hands over Nesta's own that were still tightly cupped around her ears. 

“Nesta, ya gotta let out all them breaths ya keep suckin’ in. Ya gonna be just fine, princess. Let's get ya back to bed, yeah?”

She could see Nesta gradually registering the presence of another person, her shoulders releasing the tension there. Nesta blinked quickly, clearing the iced-over look with each swipe of her eyelids. 

A whoosh of breath escaped Nesta before she cleared her throat and spoke for the first time since Boudica had made her way downstairs. 

*’*’*’*

“Don't - don't touch me! Get away from me, right now!” Nesta screamed at her host who had appeared out of thin air. 

She scrambled to her feet, pushing Boudica away from her, knowing full well that Boudica let her, given their extreme difference in build. 

“Woah there, wildcat. Easy. Just relax, ok? I'm not tryna do anythin’. I just heard a noise and found ya there.” Boudica gestured to the piece of wall Nesta was just pressed up against and then returned her hands to face palms up, showing Nesta she meant no harm. 

What the Hel had just happened? Nesta had never experienced such a visceral remembering of that awful encounter. 

That particular voice hasn't been allowed out of the iron box she has kept it in these past months. She was supposed to be stronger than this. How could she let herself be so weak? And in the company of a stranger, no less. 

Gods, she had to get her shit together right now! 

Easing her breathing in the only way she knew how Nesta counted to four in her mind between measured breaths, in and out. It seemed that her body was returning to the here and now as she again released the air she held in her lungs. 

On her next inhale, she smoothed her hands down over her hair, taming the wisps that had pulled out of her braid in her brief moment of insanity. 

“Boudica, would you head to the kitchen? I wish to have a moment alone to gather myself. I will meet you there shortly to steep us some tea before we return to bed.”

“I'd reckon ya need somethin’ a bit stronger than tea, but sure. I'll leave ya be for now.” Boudica looked weary as she hesitated to leave too quickly. Clearly thinking better than to argue though, she turned her back to Nesta and disappeared into the next room. 

Immediately, thoughts flew into Nesta's head about a way to solve this new problem she had caused. 

“Ok, so that just happened. How am I going to explain this away? Do I use this to my advantage? Make her think I'm helpless and get her to feel sorry for me? No, no that is absurd and would require a deeper level of compassion than I am willing to foster with her.”

Nesta’s internal argument with herself continued, spiralling the longer she assumed the role of both the righteous and the wicked; though it seemed they at least agreed on one thing.

“I will not share what caused it. If my own family - estranged as they may be - do not know of that night, I sure as Hel am not opening up to some hero-for-hire about it.”

She was grateful for the gods-awful rug by the hearth as it muffled the sound of Nesta’s pacing footsteps, her thoughts causing her feet to wander as she came to a sufficient - albeit completely deluded - reason for the scene caused earlier.

“I could act like nothing happened? Blame it on a nightmare perhaps? Yes, that could work… Let’s chalk it up to a faerie encounter as a child or some other such nonsense that would be passable for Boudica’s intelligence level.”

“Right,” Nesta rolled her shoulders, as if preparing for a posture test, “let's get this over with,” she mumbled to herself as she silently padded to the kitchen. 

To Nesta's surprise, as she made her way over to the stone-topped counter and perched regally on a stool, she noticed that Boudica had already provided drink options. On the kitchen counter was herbal tea, whiskey and wine. It seemed Boudica stuck to the same amber liquid Nesta had seen her drinking just a few hours ago when she found her in The Well. 

As Nesta cleared her throat and opened her mouth to begin explaining away her madness, Boudica interjected while raising her hand to stop Nesta in her verbal tracks.

“Save it. I don’t wanna have some mushy heart-to-heart with ya about…” she waved her hand around as if trying to pull the words together, “whatever the Hel that was out there.”

Nesta was reminded of their first meeting just mere hours ago. This was the second time Boudica felt the need to dismiss her before she even had the opportunity to speak, and Nesta would be damned if Boudica thought to make a habit of this improper behaviour.

“Whatever the Hel that was? It’s called a nightmare, you mongrel, ever heard of it?” She tilted her chin in defiance, now eager to force this conversation to happen, if only for the fact that Boudica didn’t want to have it.

“Don’t act like I called you out of your bed, so desperate for you to aid me. You came down those stairs all of your own volition, because,” sucking in a fake gasp she rose from her stool and clutched her chest in mock deference, “Gods forbid, if you hadn’t saved me, whatever would I have done?” Nesta stepped closer to Boudica, batting her eyelashes, hoping to get a rise out of the mercenary.

“Oh, ok, yeah, sure, whatever helps ya sleep at night, toots! Just now realisin’ I much preferred ya when no words were comin’ outta that vile mouth a’yours,” Boudica retorted before downing the rest of her drink. She stepped away from Nesta to add another two fingers of liquor to her glass; her demeanour remaining unbothered.

Nesta raised a challenging eyebrow, feeling out her opponent, finding the chink in the armour where her words could land.

“Boudica the Brave,” Nesta said through her nose, the moniker sounding anything but respectful, “I never realised that bravery included inserting yourself into others' private nighttime affairs.” 

That seemed to hit the mark. Nesta could see a muscle feathering in Boudica’s jaw as she clenched her teeth. The silence was weighted with the same tension now lacing Boudica’s shoulders.

“Bullseye.” Nesta thought triumphantly and waited for whatever backwater insult Boudica could think up in the heat of this exchange. She felt like the cat that got the cream, finally having the attention removed from herself and picking away at Boudica’s rusty exterior, getting down to the meat of who she really was. “No one is this jovial and nonchalant all the time. This is a farce and I will unravel you.” 

As if Boudica heard her thoughts, and to Nesta’s utter dismay, Boudica sighed, then replied in an easy tone, “Noted, princess. Next time ya ain’t breathin’, I’ll leave ya to it. Here’s hopin’ it happens while we still close enough to town, so I don’t gotta lug that pile a’ bones ya call a body too far.” 

“How macabre,” Nesta huffed, spinning on her still-socked feet and throwing over her shoulder, “I am returning to bed.”

Damn that stupid woman and her apparent immunity to Nesta’s sharp words. Perhaps there was not enough going on in that brain of hers to see Nesta’s taunts for what they were. But if that was the case, that glimpse of, what - anger maybe? - would suggest an unexpected amount of control that Nesta had not expected of a run-of-the-mill sellsword.

Climbing into the overheated cot once again, Nesta snuggled under the furs with a comforting thought rocking her to sleep.

“I will best you yet, Boudica.”

~-~-~-~

Let me know what you think of this chapter. I appreciate all comments and thoughts :)) just please remember to remain kind

As always, to my husband @a-novel-idealist - thank you! You are the most wondrous partner and supportive force. I am eternally grateful for you and your you-ness ❤

~-~-~-~

Echoes of Resilience taglist

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Let me know if you want on or off the taglist :))

[smolestboop]

what's your opinion on hellion? (gameplay/aesthetic/story)?

im going to be real with you, i absolutely LOVE the Hellion!!!!!! i think gameplay wise, she's a massive damage dealer. and her unique debuff really keeps you on your toes. and i adore her backstory -- the fact that her only flaw was just that she was a coward and ran away. and that trauma manifested into this constant need for her to keep up this bloodthirsty persona and never show fear. i remember getting lowkey emotional over her --gah! sorry i love Boudica so much.

hahah so yeah those are my thoughts! (i like to pair Boudica with Alhazred for some reason, i think they really work well as a pair)

[stuckyhistoricalfiction]

Teasers

Read some teasers of the fics coming out this December and January!

Bucky was frozen in place as time itself stopped, unable as he was to tear his eyes away from unknown warrior. Everywhere around him the shrieks of war ensued but he was silent like the clouds before a thunderstorm, rooted like a tree where others were slipping in the mud. The blood – not his own, for no one got close enough to hurt him – made the strong muscles of his mid-section gleam when the sun hit it, and his massive arms bulged each time the man swung his sword in ruinous circles. Man. Could he really be? A giant amongst them all, with no markings to show where he belonged. Neither blade nor ink had marred his skin, and he lacked the arm-ring that would prove him a Northerner. He couldn’t be theirs – he was fighting against them with a force so strong it didn’t seem human. All the breath left Bucky. He might not wear an arm ring, but he wasn’t wearing that damned silver cross either in a chain around his neck. All he wore was a golden crown.

“Are you done choking?” The voice says when Steve stops aspirating dried vascular plant bits. The hand once again grips his hair, pulls him up and another hand pushes him backward to sit against a tree and Steve finally gets a look at his attacker. His breath stops. Before him is a savage in leather and pelts, with wild black hair and strange markings down his left arm and shoulder, but Steve can’t pay attention to any of it because his face is painted. White and red and vibrant blue streak across forehead and cheekbones and the eyes are smeared pitch black. It makes the striking light gray irises stand out all the more. His teeth show in a predatory smile between blue and white lips. Steve has heard of Celtic witches. Fearsome stories, all of them. “First things first,” the witch sits down in front of him. “I would never hurt your horse, Roman.” Steve gasps. “Of course, you’re a Roman.” The man scoffs. “I could have picked your stance and build out of a thousand. You have soldier written all over you. You and that ridiculous haircut.” The hand is back in his hair, tousling this time, and Steve curses the fact that he did not have leave to let his hair and beard grow before the journey down. It is probably how the stranger in the tavern pegged him. All his offerings to Mercury were for nothing. “The question is not who you are.” The painted face before Steve becomes pensive. “And I can guess what you’re doing here, dressed like a commoner, skulking around my sacred altars.” Steve’s eyes widen in shock. These woods are consecrated. Tony sent him straight into the lion’s den, and like a sheep, Steve went. The predatory smile comes back, spreads across paint. “Boudica rising,” he whispers. “Is that not why you’re here.” Steve blinks. Bites his tongue. Tries to leave his face impassive, but the witch takes one look at him and once again laughs out loud. It is supremely unsettling. “Aaaaaahhhh,” he sighs, content. “I thought so.” Then he cocks his head left. “Your horse is coming back. Loyal beast that it is. When I sprung you and it bolted, I thought we’d never see the nag again.” Falconis steps into the clearing, snuffling and a little out of sorts, but none the worse for wear. He has not damaged himself in his flight through these woods and Steve is glad. He walks over to Steve and nuzzles his cheek, fluffing happily, and then turns— and does the same to the witch. Traitor.

As many things do, it begins with two corpses; one staining the quilt of snow it lays on a rueful shade of crimson, and the other encased in an icy tomb within the rotting carcass of a downed plane. In a way that defies both sense and science, both corpses are not truly dead at all — at least not yet. One corpse clenches his remaining fingers painfully tight, the knuckles paling to match the snow, grappling with the ledge of life desperately while his companion - his other half - readily lets go, ready to wearily sink under the waves of the quiet and the cold. One in denial and the other relieved. Even though they’re as good as, they’re not dead. Some would say it’s a miracle, a marvel, and that’s just the M’s; nevermind the rest. But, when it is stripped down to the bone, flesh and ligaments peeled away until the ivory skeleton of truth is laid bare, it is undoubtable that these icy graves and their icy corpses are inexplicably, irrevocably, and indescribably intertwined. Perhaps it’s fate, maybe one could go as far as to say it’s destiny. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But the one thing that is undeniable is that from the very second both corpses teetered on the thinning thread between living and dying, their orbits crossed. Over the next handful of decades, they are pulled into each other like stars, spiralling closer and closer until inevitably falling into each other in a stellar collision of a single epic, and irreversible mistake.

“Prince Bohemond VI has submitted to the Mongols.” Marshal Phillips announced solemnly. István looked up from the map. “Are we sending forces to liberate them?” He inquired. It was a larger campaign than they usually engaged in, but the Mongols were also a greater threat than they usually faced. Marshal Phillips shook his head and István felt a bolt of shock through his chest. Surely they couldn’t stand by and let Antioch fall to such a cruel adversary? “The prince claims he is submitting willingly. His father-in-law, King Hethum I, submitted over a decade ago, and has been encouraging other monarchs to do the same for years. He believes allying with the Mongols is our best chance to defend the kingdoms of Christendom from the Mamluks.” “If we submit to the Mongols, there will be no Christendom to defend!” István argued. But the other knights didn’t seem concerned. He thought of the scorched ruins he’d grown up around. The way his mother always choked up when talking about his father’s final stand against “the Tatars”. Desperate for understanding, his eyes sought out Jakab amongst the assembled archers. Jakab was already looking at him with a sweet, concerned frown. István felt a renewed sense of sanity as his friend gave a little nod in solidarity.

“You know you’re quite the informant,” Bucky said softly. “Let’s make a deal you keep talkin to me, and I’ll pay you enough, so you don’t have to walk the streets.” “I don’t need your fucking charity,” Steve growled. “It’s not charity.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s wrist. “You’re in the victim pool. You’re almost an exact match for what he’s lookin for. And you got a son—” “Don’t talk about my son!” Steve snarled. “Let me help you!” Bucky yelled. “I don’t need your help!” Steve yanked his arm out of Bucky’s grasp. “I don’t need anything from you—” “Goddammit, Stevie.” Bucky grabbed Steve and pressed him against the wall of an alley. But Nat’s words echoed in his mind, You’re all violent in your own way. Bucky didn’t want to be violent, especially not with Steve. He pulled back a little, giving the fae enough room to slip away if he wanted to. “I won’t force you,” Bucky told him with a sigh of defeat. “But I really do want to help. No charity, no pity, just help. And I need your help too. You know these victims, I don’t.”