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gffa · 3 years ago

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Last time I went about five months between doing a set of STAR WARS fic recs, this time it’s only been three months! Hurrah! It helps that, as always, this fandom puts out an incredible amount of excellent fic, so I feel like I’m never hurting for fics I want to yell about and shove at people, which is something I continue to appreciate as it often feels like so much of the world is such a huge tire fire. It helps to be able to find fics to retreat into, to have fun with, to express joy and creativity with, and so many of the authors in this fandom are just so good at this! To the point that these sets sometimes take awhile because there are always more fics I want to add, until the post starts threatening to be overly long instead of a decent length–in my defense, no seriously, you guys are just too good! Also, I forced myself to stop at 69 fic recs, because yes I do think it’s funny. (Nice.) STAR WARS FIC RECS: PREQUELS RECS: ✦ a comedy in four acts by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & dooku & yoda & qui-gon & cast, time travel, 4k This was what time-travel is: staring at the dark sockets of skulls everywhere your gaze lands on. Being haunted by ghosts long gone. The apprehension of the slow yet sure approach of the inevitable which is sending chills down your spine. ✦ No Rest for the Weary by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & jedi & ocs, 61k Needing a break from life at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, visit a Jedi AgriCorps settlement on the Midrim planet of Helia. There they encounter new friends, new enemies and have new adventures, all while attempting to navigate their sometimes turbulent relationship as Master and Padawan. ✦ Stars of Tatooine by Be_Right_Back, ahsoka & kanan & mace & rex & obi-wan & cast, 10.5k After the end of the world, Ahsoka more or less kidnaps a child, has to air some old grievances, and tries to find whatever peace the universe can still offer. All paths in the Force lead home, eventually. ✦ Festival of Light by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex & cast, 8.7k During his first year at the Jedi Temple, Anakin learns that even the Jedi celebrate holidays. ✦ the master, the padawan, the Force by skatzaa, depa & caleb, 1.4k Caleb expects things to be different after Master Depa takes him as her padawan, but really, it feels like nothing really changes. ✦ desecrate my lungs by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & cast, 16k wip Time-travel fix-it in which Mustafar haunts Anakin decades after it happened and years before it would. ✦ Grace by dismantlingsummer, obi-wan & anakin, 2.3k Shortly after Mustafar, Anakin realizes what he has done. He finds Obi-Wan to beg for death. ✦ Fifth Migration by wrennette, yoda & mace & obi-wan & ki-adi & yarael & coleman & plo & palpatine & cast, 2k How about an AU where the Sith’s Grand Plan accounted for everything -everything that is, except the fact that the Jedi temple is actually an very ancient spacecraft and the second word got to the Jedi about there being clones on Kamino, all Jedi are called back inside and they take off immediately? Just imagine the dear chancellor’s face… ✦ fill pages with scribbled ink by magneticwave, obi-wan/padme & sabe & mace & quinlan & cast, 9.8k A year after the Invasion of Naboo, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is invited by Queen Amidala to return to Naboo and participate in a rite known as the Night of Fireflies. Things kind of snowball from there. ✦ Mind Your Words by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin, spanking, 7k Obi-Wan reminds Anakin that there are consequences for careless behavior for young Jedi on missions. ✦ (you taught me) the courage of stars by grumpyhedgehogs, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 5.1k wip Ahsoka Tano flees after a warrant for her arrest is issued, but not before receiving aid from an unexpected ally. (Ahsoka proceeds to go on a road trip filled with a bunch of strangers who all say the same thing: Obi-Wan Kenobi is much more than he has ever appeared to be.) ✦ they faked it (guess everything’s complicated) by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 4.5k Ahsoka temporarily loses memories of the events of Obi-Wan’s fake death. To help with the healing process, Anakin and Obi-Wan have to pretend that they’re okay. ✦ programed to dream by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, body horror, 1.3k The spaceship Comet-rider is the fastest, most efficient vessel in the galaxy, and is crewed by Separatist-funded pirates. Anakin Skywalker is missing. Unfortunately, these two things are connected. ✦ Unpleasant Truths by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin, 2.1k Obi-Wan and Anakin are stuck in a room with one another while waiting for truth serum to wear off. ✦ moment’s silence by skatzaa, obi-wan & owen & beru & luke & leia (pre-obi-wan/beru-owen), 2k Owen had long since resigned himself to trouble, whenever Beru got that particularly stubborn set to her jaw. ✦ hold gently and let go by shatou, obi-wan & anakin (pre-slash?), 1.7k A troubled Anakin comes to Obi-Wan to discuss attachments. ✦ sun child by Ro29, obi-wan & anakin, 2.1k (or; sometimes being so tied to the Force causes problems, Obi-Wan helps his Padawan as best he can) ✦ A Dinner Out by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & cast, 1.6k Obi-Wan can’t get his young Padawan to eat much, so he tries something new. But trying something different has unintended consequences. ✦ Shades in the Desert by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & luke & owen/beru, 10.8k Not even from a certain point of view did Darth Vader kill Anakin Skywalker. He wished he did, but the specter of the Jedi’s light escaped before he could finalize his fall to the dark. Meanwhile, Anakin is raising his son on Tatooine. ✦ somewhere along in the bitterness by CallToMuster, obi-wan & anakin, major character death, 3.8k It was probably the twelfth day floating alone in space that Obi-Wan and Anakin realized no one was coming for them. ✦ Songs for Little Jedi by soft_but_gremlin, mace & younglings, ~1k The initiates are having nightmares, so Mace sings a lullaby to comfort them. ✦ atmosphere level by softredscrunchie, obi-wan/satine & qui-gon, 1k As a joke, Satine tells Obi-Wan she thinks Mandalore is flat. He doesn’t take it well. ✦ on sith holocrons and misunderstandings by billowypants, obi-wan & anakin & mace & yoda & cast, de-aged!obi-wan, 7.2k or, de-aged!Obi-Wan has the same Force bonds as adult Obi-Wan, and he does not react well. ✦ Perseverance & Resilience by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin, 1.1k In the aftermath of Naboo, Obi-Wan realizes he needs strength to protect his new Padawan. Growing up, Anakin needs peace. ✦ A Delicate Balance by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & yoda & jedi, spanking, 9.6k As Anakin’s skills grow, so too does his penchant for getting into trouble. After a training mishap, Obi-Wan struggles with his role as Anakin’s master. ✦ mirror, mirror by CallToMuster, obi-wan & anakin, 5.4k Obi-Wan has been rescued by Anakin after being rather embarrassingly kidnapped on the remote planet of Ilnuria during his investigation of rumored kyber crystals deep beneath the planet’s surface. …But is all as it seems? ✦ Mace Windu Appreciation Week by Redminibike1, mace & obi-wan & anakin & ponds & cody & jedi & cast, 12.5k Set of unconnected ficlets for Mace Windu Appreciation Week, because he deserves it :) ✦ begin again as a quiet thought by skatzaa, obi-wan/quinlan, d/s, ~1k Cool, smooth leather touched his jaw—gloves. Because of course Obi-Wan had thought of that as well. ✦ Drunken Lullabies by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & anakin & siri & quinlan & aayla & garen & bant & ferus, 6.5k “Do I really have to go to this thing?” Fourteen year old Anakin Skywalker dramatically sighed. “It’s sooo boring!” ✦ heaven knows how I love you by the_13th_battalion, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.2k Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka are stranded on an unfamiliar planet overnight. They spend their time exploring the community- and maybe they get a little closer to each other along the way. ✦ A Reckless Padawan by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, spanking, 3.9k When Ahsoka upsets Anakin with an act of reckless disobedience, it falls to her grandmaster to help her see the error of her ways. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ Too Hot by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.8k Too Hot: A game where two players kiss without stopping and without touching each other. If one player touches the other, that player loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser. ✦ Nostos by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & padme, NSFW, 17k Or, how Obi-Wan and Anakin discover that there are many ways to come home. ✦ to touch the light, darkest by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1.9k Obi-Wan begins to fuck Vader back to the light ✦ encode by loosingletters, obi-wan/anakin & padme & handmaidens & cast, 26.3k wip Instead of being accepted into the Jedi Order at the age of 9, Anakin Skywalker became a ward of Naboo. ✦ Hunting the Homeward Light by GreenQueenofClubs, obi-wan/anakin & mace & ahsoka & shmi & padme & cast, 31.9k wip When Anakin Skywalker was nine, he left his whole life and mother behind to follow Qui-Gon Jinn to Coruscant and the Jedi Temple. When Anakin Skywalker was twelve, he left his whole life and Master behind to follow Mace Windu to the Outer Rim and away from the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker was twenty… ✦ use my body to break your fall by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, 44.7k wip Obi-Wan Kenobi is too good at being a Sith Lord general of the Separatist army. The Jedi Council approaches Anakin with an offer he can’t refuse. These things are, actually, related. ✦ Over and Over by obiwanobi, obi-wan/anakin, 1.4k “I love you,” he blurts out, loud and impossible to miss. Obi-Wan blinks once, twice. And freezes. The first time Anakin tells him is a mortifying experience. ✦ Exceptions by rinverse, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & mace & quinlan & cast, NSFW, modern au, 23.4k Young and brilliant, Anakin is the mind behind JEDI Tech’s latest innovation. Obi-Wan is the company’s perfectly composed Director of PR & Marketing. And last night, they were just two strangers at a bar, looking for something quick and easy. But life had other plans when it crossed their paths again the very next day. ✦ Here There Be Dragons by Ghost_Owl, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, 10.1k Anakin knows why he can’t shift into his animal form like every other Jedi. It’s because he doesn’t want to, it’s because he’s had a vision of what he would become, and he doesn’t want it. ✦ Waiting in a Sea of Stars by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan/anakin, ~1k Stranded in deep space, Obi-Wan and Anakin wait for rescue. ✦ Tristitia by JSwander, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, 5k An alternate timeline where Palpatine focuses his attentions on Obi-Wan Kenobi instead of Anakin Skywalker after the attack on Naboo. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 11: Communication, What Communication? by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, mobster au, 7k a 7k obikin PWP that is somehow a prompt mashup of a mobster au, an accidental sugar daddy au, with a soupçon of an anakin never left tatooine au, and a pinch of qui-gon was anakin’s dad au ✦ who a person truly is cannot be seen with the eye by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, spanking, 3.6k Anakin purposely avoids doing what Obi-Wan tells him to do. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 12: Potidaea, 432BC, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, historical au, 4.3k Here is a short smutty scene inspired by all those classics asks, Alcibiades praising Socrates in Plato’s Symposium, and this vase c.490-480 B.C. depicting standing, face-to-face intercrural intercourse between a bearded man and a youth, which as far as we can tell was the most common and accepted position for it in Ancient Greece. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 13: Minikin and Tiny-Wan by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 5.4k Happy May the Fourth! In honor of this happy day, I have written the fluffiest, crackiest, vanilla-flavored smut imaginable. Based on long discussions on discord with tomicaleto about her adorable Tiny AU. ✦ to hold until brightness by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1.4k Obi-Wan feared that it drew out the darkest in him, to bring Vader to these flashes of light, but it was a trade he would make again and again without hesitation. ✦ May Be Found, If Sought by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan/anakin & mace & quinlan, magical academy au, 2.3k In which Quinlan, Mace, and Obi-Wan teach Non-Traditional Magical Philosophy in an institution rampant with academic snobbery and discrimination, something dark is stirring in the nearby forest, and no one is ever prepared for Anakin Skywalker. A small story about first meetings in magical academia. ✦ infinitely varied by loosingletters, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, modern au, 2.2k Also known as Obi-Wan and Anakin teach a tiny program called A.H.S.O.K.A. how to be something more than lines of code via the power of linguistics. ✦ recipe for disaster by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, modern au, 9.8k When Ahsoka tells Anakin she doesn’t want to learn piano anymore, Anakin is heartbroken. He doesn’t care about the instrument, obviously, but he’s practically in love with her teacher. Obi-Wan offers up a solution to their impending separation, and it’s not dating like any normal person would suggest. Instead, he’s gonna teach Anakin how to cook. Except Anakin’s a pretty well-known chef, and Obi-Wan is absolutely awful in the kitchen. ✦ Pretty Kitty by GayCheerios, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.2k “Master, you always take such good care of me,” Anakin says, a little chirp coming after his sentence, as his thumb rests on Anakin’s plump bottom lip. ✦ As One, Into Eternity by Pseudonymoose, obi-wan/anakin, force ghosts, 3.1k Death comes, but the man who was, and is, and will be Anakin Skywalker is not gone. And in the Force, he will never be alone again. ✦ does he make you laugh? by y0u_idjits, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, fusion fic, 3.6k “Tell me it’s not about screwing the guy who’s screwing your husband.” ✦ Rotten Work by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, 2.8k Obi-Wan: I’ll take care of you. Anakin, with bloodshot eyes and a broken back from hours of terrible posture: It’s rotten work. Obi-Wan, who needs to bathe this man for his own sanity and health: Not to me. Not if it’s you. ✦ afterimages by shatou, obi-wan/anakin, 1.3k Mustafar is nothing but a bad dream. ✦ understanding is honoring the truth beneath the surface by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, 7.3k Anakin asks Obi-Wan to take control. ✦ The strongest stars… by Tomicaleto, obi-wan/anakin & beru & cast, NSFW, 7.4k The war’s end seems to be close, with everyone looking forward to it. And when Anakin is doubting himself the most, an unexpected visit arrives at the Temple. ✦ home has a heartbeat by izazov, obi-wan/anakin, 5.6k Or: Anakin and Obi-Wan are together, but there are still some things left unsaid between them. ✦ turn back now (i’m haunted) by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & padme & quinlan & ahsoka & cast, modern au, ghosts au, 25k wip Anakin Skywalker’s house is haunted. Luckily for him, Padmé knows a ghost hunter. Unluckily for him, it’s the hottest, most english-professor ghost hunter he’s ever seen. And extremely unluckily for him, he’s starting to get the feeling he understands maybe ten percent of what’s actually going on here, not to mention what’s at stake. ✦ game plan by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 11.2k Or, Vader keeps capturing Obi-Wan during the Wars. Obi-Wan keeps escaping. It’s kind of a thing. ✦ Provocation by ToolMusicLover, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.9k Or: Obi-Wan and Anakin attempt to navigate their complicated relationship with barbed words and wilful ignorance. It wasn’t going well. ✦ Languages by Crowgirl, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 6.5k So Anakin pulls out a map and makes a list. REBELS RECS: ✦ The Scent of You by ambiguously, kanan/hera & cast, a smidge of nsfw, 2.9k Everything changes after Malachor, and Kanan has trouble finding his balance. ✦ Heard It in a Love Song (Can’t Be Wrong) by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 2.7k Kallus can’t quite figure out what makes Zeb tick, but he keeps trying. ORIGINAL TRILOGY/MANDALORIAN RECS: ✦ A Discussion of Choices by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & mace, 2k Mace Windu has traveled the galaxy since the fall of the Republic, keeping out of the Empire’s sight and teaching where he can. Upon the request of a ghost of an old friend, Mace finds himself instructing Luke Skywalker, who is still reeling from the truth of Vader’s identity. ✦ staring down the barrel of the hot sun by magneticwave, luke/din & obi-wan & grogu & mace & cast, 25.7k “Gone to a Child of the Watch, the Darksaber has,” Grand Master Yoda announces in his creaky little voice. “Peace, there is not, and yet peace, there must be.” ✦ Released by Peppermint_Shamrock, cody & rex & luke & cast, 6k Nearly two and a half decades late, Cody’s chip is finally removed. Adjusting to having his mind returned to him after so long takes time, and Cody struggles with questions of his purpose of the past, present, and future. Fortunately, he does not have to struggle alone. ✦ A Tatooine Rainstorm by skatzaa, leia & luke & shmi, 1.7k Leia meets a ghost. ✦ Dealing with the Darksaber by Peppermint_Shamrock, din & bo-katan & cara, 1.3k After her recovery, Bo-Katan contacts Din to challenge him for the darksaber. Din is still very much not interested in the whole affair. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #mace windu #obikin #fic recs #star wars fic recs #long post

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whump-whump-baby · 5 years ago

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So your Fictional Universe has Horses in it

Alternatively: People Ride Horses in Your Fic, and you’re Not Sure What to Do About It

horse rider/owner and baby writer here, throwing you an infodump that will maybe help with the whole ‘There’s a Horse in the Background here but I Don’t Know What to Do With it’ thing I sometimes see in writing!

Inside this infodump: Horse riding, horse care, horse tack (equipment), falling off a horse (and what usually gets injured), horse lingo, and behaviour.

1. Tame that beast (aka, riding the horse)

a couple things here: Getting on the horse, getting off, steering, etc

Honestly, I’m only including this part because I find that a lot of people skip past the whole ‘getting on the horse’ bit and I find it hilarious. It’s not a weird thing but it can be weird to describe. I get it!

Getting On

Experienced riders will always mount from the left side of the horse. It's a weird tradition that doesn’t really make sense anymore, but it’s still followed because most don’t really see a reason to change it. It supposedly dates back to medieval times and has something to do with where a sword would traditionally be hung on a person’s hip- mounting (Putting your foot in the stirrup, grabbing up high on the saddle, pulling yourself up and over while using your foot in the stirrup to help yourself) from the left means you wouldn’t accidentally poke your horse with your sheath. Not sure if this story has any validity to it, but we all still follow the left rule unless we’re specifically getting a horse used to mounting from the other side for whatever reason.

Getting off

I have a bone to pick with this. Nobody gets off their horse by swinging a leg in front of themselves, over the horse’s neck in front of them, and hopping down facing away from their horse. It’s not the safest bet to attempt because 1. It actually requires a lot of hip strength to swing your leg like that without kicking your poor horse in the neck, and 2. It doesn’t give you a legitimate way to hold onto your horse after dismounting, which is inherently unsafe. Even if you are in possession of The World’s Best Behaved Horse Ever, you always want to be holding onto the reins. Riders usually dismount by leaning forward, swinging a leg behind them and over the horse’s butt, pivoting sideways on their stomach, and sliding down off the horse- keeping a hand on the rein and one on the saddle to slow their descent. That way you always have a hand on your wild beast, who may decide at any given time that the nearby grass is more important than standing still for your dismount. Plus, swinging a leg like that is basically impossible in saddles that feature a saddle horn, like a western saddle.

It’s a little hard to see in this photo, but Geralt’s saddle definitely has some kind of high pommel to it- so he’d most likely dismount the normal way. It’s just easier!

If you tried to dismount like that in this western saddle you would definitely bruise something.

In this saddle (a Dressage saddle) you could probably pull it off.. but why?? All that struggle just to slide down on your butt and land funny, sprawled away from your horse. It’s just not worth it.

Steering and Etc.

Believe it or not, most steering movement actually comes from the rider’s weight in the saddle than their grip on the reins. If we’re looking at this from the realm of something like The Witcher (which is probably going to be my go-to media example because it’s still pretty recent) a relaxed turn is going to look like Geralt isn’t doing too much with his upper body, because he’d be weighting his seat bones in the saddle. Despite his saddle looking a little bulky, Roach could definitely feel it and respond accordingly- horses are pretty sensitive little friends and can feel most of what you’re doing up there, including looking down. (Protip, if you’re learning to ride horses, don’t look down- it’ll unbalance your upper body and make you pitch forward, unbalancing your horse and making yourself more likely to fall off)

A good way to have a character look experienced with riding is to describe someone relaxed but upright, shoulders back, hands closed but relaxed on the reins. They don’t have to be bolt upright, but at ease. A good way to describe a character with little to no riding experience would be to describe them as tense, probably hunching forward a little; hands too high or low and reins too long. See the lovely photos below:

A Dressage rider: she’s looking pretty evenly balanced, is sitting tall but not bolt upright, hands are low, elbows relaxed. Wonderful!

A Beginner: Absolutely no hate to beginners! We all have to start somewhere, But there’s definitely a difference in body language between this rider and our dressage rider. (Side note: PLEASE always wear a helmet on a horse, especially if you’re a beginner, good grief)

2. Horse Care

I don’t think too much needs to be said here, but there’s a couple things that are worth noting.

Grooming

Most horses love a good brushing. They’ll even lean into it if you find an itchy spot!

If your character has a ton of experience, grooming their horse makes a lovely backdrop for conversations. Riders usually brush their horses before and after riding, to remove dirt and mud and sweat. Manes and tails are brushed if you want to be detail oriented, and feet should always be picked out (A good chance for Character B to oogle Character A’s butt, if thats the kind of story you’re writing) to remove dirt and stones.

When Not Riding

Your furry partner-in-crime should be untacked and eating grass somewhere. Untacked means all gear removed and put away for the day- in stories like The Witcher, tied to a tree branch or a rest area in a halter is fine. As a horse person it wouldn’t make sense to leave their tack on all night- you’d leave it nearby, but not on them. If your characters are just pausing for a break or something, it’s totally ok- but done for the day? Nah. Let your pony be naked.

Injuries

Horses, like most prey animals, will hide injuries and illness until they physically can’t anymore. Small cuts and scrapes, dependent on where they are, will probably not give a physical response unless you manipulate them somehow (cleaning, applying antibiotics, etc). A horse may show discomfort by a number of signs, but if it really hurts your horse will probably shy away from your touch or may lash out at your hands to keep you from touching it. Signs of discomfort can be pinning their ears back against their head (aka Ow Ow OW, DON’T TOUCH IT, I’m UPSET) to straight up trying to run from you if they think you’re going to attempt to touch it (a more severe reaction for a more severe wound, like a deep cut/laceration/puncture etc). If a horse is in very dire straits you might get no reaction at all- your horse might be hanging its head low, not really responding to your voice or touch, appearing bleary eyed or dull eyed or sleepy. Generally that kind of severe behavior change is considered Very Very Bad and definitely grounds to call a vet for, especially if there’s no sign of physical injury.

3. Horse Tack (Equipment!)

Here’s a quick rundown of horse tack.

All these pieces make up the bridle, reins included.

*Side note- Bits are not cruel, and riders choosing to use them with their horses are not abusive. Bits are a tool riders use to communicate with their horses and there are hundreds of metal finishes, textures, shapes and sizes to fit a horse with a bit that makes them happy and keeps them comfortable. There are some horses who refuse to take bits, and their owners usually turn to a bitless bridle to keep them comfortable- however this is not “kinder” just because of the lack of bit. These bridles are just designed to exert gentle pressure to tell the horse to slow or stop instead of the gentle pressure on the bit. Different horses prefer different things, and none of these things are harmful to the horse if used properly and with care.

This is a diagram of a close contact or Hunter saddle, but the terminology generally applies to all different kinds of saddles. Girths are considered their own piece of tack and not as a part of the saddle.

Riders who are riding consistently usually at least wipe their tack down with a wet cloth after finishing with it for the day. Because tack is almost always leather, well cared for leather lasts a lot longer if cared for. This is also a great thing to have a character talk over in a fic- have them clean tack while having a hard conversation, or maybe show how quick and not-great of a job they do on their tack if they’re angry or trying to get away from another character closeby. Lots of opportunities! (If you really want to get detailed, cleaning usually looks like: a damp cloth to wipe dirt off and then rubbing a leather conditioner into the tack, which may smell lovely or a little weird depending on the brand)

4. Falling off

I see you, whump writers. (and I love you.)

So You Want your Character to Fall Off:

Falling off is rarely graceful. It can be caused by anything from an unexpected trip to your horse spooking at something, to a jump taken at the wrong spot/speed/angle... opportunities are endless. I have fallen off my horse at the walk because he startled at a dog and I slipped to the side, and I have fallen off over jumps, because my horse actively tried to get me off, or because I just wasn’t paying attention and Oops, how’d I get in the dirt? Generally if you’re looking for a reason for your character to fall off, they are endless. If the one at fault is the horse common reasons are the rider becoming unseated and slipping back/forward/sideways by the horse startling (at legitimately anything sometimes, depending on the horse.. let your imagination go wild!) changing speed or direction suddenly. All of these things will affect how your character comes off and how they’ll hit dirt with what body part. IE- pitching forward will probably land you on the top of your shoulders, if you’re lucky- if not, you’ll land on your head. Most people will land on the tops of their shoulders as the instinct to protect their head kicks in, but sometimes gravity is a bitch. It happens.

This is where experience comes in, too- Experienced riders will usually react quicker and will try to save themselves, either grabbing onto their horse’s mane or neck or even just keeping a death grip on the reins as adrenaline kicks in- all of which keeps your upper body higher than your lower and can lead to landing on your bum/side/feet instead of your head. Beginner or inexperienced riders might not react that quickly and end up landing roughly. This is not to say that more experienced riders will always come out less injured than beginners, but that experienced riders sense of self preservation will kick in faster frankly just because they’ve fallen off more. This is also why you see more beginners breaking arms in riding accidents- as you learn to ride you are taught (if you were taught like I was) to NEVER throw your arms out to catch yourself during a fall- it’s more likely that you will land on top of your straight arm and give yourself a wicked compound break. Your instinct changes from trying to save yourself to trying everything you can to staying in your saddle. Self preservation is a wonderful thing!

If Your Character is Sick/Already Injured:

The motion of the horse, even in walk, is going to make them feel worse- especially any injury to the lower stomach area. That’s where the body absorbs most of the motion from the horse’s gaits, especially in the hips/lower abdomen. So if Character A has a stab wound in his stomach and Character B has gotten them into the saddle to bring them to help.... Character A is gonna be in some pretty decent pain until they can dismount. For head injuries the same motion might make them dizzy or nauseous. But, good news! If your character slumps forward completely while keeping their arms on either side of the horse’s neck, they will probably manage to stay in the saddle for a decent amount of time. Their lower body and leg (hopefully still in the stirrups) will keep them in the saddle unless jostled out of it. (This, of course, only making sense if the saddle in question doesn’t have a horn, because otherwise your character won’t be able to slump forward far at all. )If they manage to slip off the horse in this position, they’re going to land head/chest/upper body first, especially if only semi-conscious due to previous injuries.

If dealing with any other injuries, getting on the horse might be nicer than walking but will definitely not keep anything still- any motion the horse makes will make the rider’s body move and jostle the injury, no matter where the injury is.

5. Wrapping it up: Horse Lingo and Behaviour

Horse terms are easy to find and but a google search away, but here’s some of the main terms:

Gaits: A horse’s movement. Walk, trot, canter and gallop with gallop being the fastest.

Aids: what riders use to communicate with the horse. This includes your hand (on the reins) your leg (squeezing to ask for gaits) and your voice.

(Riders talk to their horses! all the time. Even if just to say good boy/girl. Commonly we say things like hoooh, whoa, easy, no, etc. Sometimes just talking to your nervous horse helps calm them down)

Green horse: Inexperienced horse, usually new to being ridden, usually young.

Mare: Female Horse.

Stallion: Male horse, not neutered. Stallions can have a reputation for being hotheaded and sometimes hard to handle, but not all are like that.

Gelding: Male horse, neutered. Most people who have male horses will refer to them as geldings on paperwork.

Pony: a small horse. Not a baby horse. Just smaller.

Colt: Baby male.

Filly: Baby female.

You can probably use google for anything else without concern that you’re using a term that's unnatural.

Behaviour

My rule of thumb for writing behaviour is this: If it seems like a disney dog in a movie would do it........ it’s safe to say a horse wouldn’t. Writing a horse like a disney dog is too unnatural and will definitely make any horse people reading your story give an eye roll.

An example:

Your character has just dismounted their horse after a long ride.

A horse would: maybe sniff your pockets for treats (especially if you had some before you got on) stand next to you as you talked to someone, try to rub their head on you (scratches!! especially if they’re sweaty) maybe perk up at something in the distance if distracted enough

A horse would not: Shake their head at you, whinny at you, prance around and “smile” at you... roll their eyes at something you said... point like Lassie at something in the distance... etc.

Horses definitely have personalities! They can be affectionate and snuggly, nervous or brave, flighty or stoic... but they don’t emote the same way a cartoon character would. The best example i’ve seen of horse interaction in media would probably be the horses in Disney’s Brave. If you pay attention to the way horses interact with each other and react to events in the movie, it’s pretty spot on!

Follow your gut. You can still have a horse with a personality, but if it feels too cartoony, it probably is!

This is a great infographic that explains body language as well.

I hope this helps anyone who wants to include more horse interaction in their writing!

#writing #fiction #writeblr #writblr #whump #whumpblr #fanfiction #hopefully tagging this right!#photos are not mine

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lunar-wandering · 3 years ago

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horseback

okay so. i may have fallen down the rabbit hole and made. an OC to ship with Wukong and Macaque-

and. i might have been encouraged and written. an entire fanfic of. Wukong teaching her how to ride a horse for fun. (and also Macaque is here too)

so uh. take....this self-indulgent stuff i guess???

i havent actually ridden a horse in like 5 years hdfkjdlkfjlsksd

---

"Could you teach me how to ride a horse?" Sel asked- and proceeded to nearly choke on her own breath laughing at the expression that came over Wukong's face. "What's with that look?"

"...I'm trying to figure out if you're making fun of me or not." Wukong said, leaning back on his cloud. "Why, exactly, are you asking me how to ride a horse?"

"Because you're the only one around here, and you're the only person I know of who has some horse experience." Sel said, before adding, "No offense intended."

"....I mean...I do know how to ride." Wukong sat up straight, pulling a bag of peach chips out of nowhere (and really, where had he gotten those, Sel had thought she and Macaque had hidden all of them during their last prank war- he better not be eating his own hair again-) and munching on them as he thought. "Why the sudden interest? Did you watch a horse movie or something?"

"I'm a selkie, Wukong." Sel leveled the Monkey King with a flat stare. "I don't exactly encounter land animals much, of course I'm curious about it."

"...You did watch a horse movie, didn't you."

"It was the only thing on TV at the time-"

A week later, and the both of them stood in a clearing, beside a brown appaloosa horse, Sel softly running a hand down it's neck, quietly in awe at the texture of it's fur. Wukong gave her a small smile before jumping right into the plan of the day; teaching a selkie how to ride a horse.

"Right, so first you gotta learn how to mount the horse-" Wukong took one of his hairs, creating a small step stool with it. "Since this is your first time we'll use a step stool to give you an extra boost."

"Couldn't you just lift me up?" Sel asked, getting up onto the step stool anyways.

"You want to be able to ride even when I'm not around, don't you?" Wukong asked, "It's not really that hard anyways- well, this would be easier if we had a saddle-"

"Once again, you could just magic up a saddle."

"If you can ride bareback you can ride a saddle." Wukong insisted.

"Oh, so it's like the whole driving thing- if you can drive a manual you can drive an automatic." Sel said, a smirk on her face. Wukong just looked confused.

"...I....don't know what you're talking about."

"...Wait do you not know how to dri-"

"Moving on!" Wukong interrupted, backflipping onto his cloud so that he was the same height as Sel. "Now, you can grab onto the horse's hair if you want, just try not to tug, okay? Place your hand here- yes like that- now jump up and over in one smooth motion."

"Not a very detailed explanation I see...." Sel did, but still, through some means, she managed to do get up and onto the horse.

"Alright, good- you're a little bit too far forwards though." Wukong said, and Sel scooched back a little. "Perfect- alright, now you've just gotta sit up straight!"

The glare Sel gave him was downright lethal.

"....I wasn't told there'd be posture involved here." She said, attempting to straighten her back, not doing the very best job of it.

"It's necessary- look okay, just. Raise your shoulders." Wukong said, "Now push them back to just slightly behind your ears and set them down."

Sel followed his instructions- and she had to admit, she felt a lot more comfortable on the horse now than she had before.

"Think you're ready to try moving?" Wukong asked, creating a pair of reins, as well as a long rope to lead the horse with. "Here, you've gotta hold the reins like this-"

He softly put his own hands over top of hers, and Sel smiled, holding back her want to comment on the close contact as he gently moved her hands into the right position. She'd had practice- she'd long since started tuning out how close Wukong tended to get to her. She'd never considered herself as being touchstarved, and still didn't think she was now, but the Monkey King definitely was, and she found herself feeling almost...saddened whenever he would seem to rein himself in, pulling out of hugs and leaning away from contact he had initiated, as though he was afraid she would start to dislike it. (The result of a bad experience, or the result of 500 years by himself? Sel had no idea.) Still though, she decided to welcome any form of contact with welcome arms.

Wukong must've noticed her smile though, as she could just barely see the hints of a blush on his face as he pulled his hands away.

"Uh- okay, so um, now that you've got the grip right, it's time to try moving." He said, hopping off of his cloud to stand on the ground, holding the lead in his hands. "Just- follow the horse's movements, okay? She's a pretty easy ride, not as bumpy as some horses, but you'll still want to try and move with the rhythm of the horse, okay?"

"...Okay." Sel said, and Wukong started walking, clicking his tone to cue the horse into walking as well. It was a little...weird at first, but after a bit, Sel found that she was starting to get used to it.

...She did have one question though.

"Where did you even find a horse this obedient anyways?" Sel asked, "Surely she's not wild."

"Ah- no." Wukong didn't look back at her, nor did he stop walking, and Sel couldn't help but sense that the Monkey King seemed...almost sheepish. "I- stole her from a nearby stable-"

"You what-"

"It's fine! I'm going to bring her back!" He quickly added, "The people who work there know me- it's fine."

Sel had the sneaking suspicion that it was probably not fine, but kept quiet.

"So am I a bonafide horse rider now?" Sel asked, after two days of Wukong helping her.

"Psh, not really." Wukong said, "I mean, you are learning rather quick, but you can't be genuinely called a true horse rider until you've fallen off your horse at least like, ten times."

"Okay???" Sel confusedly started leaning to the side, intent on sliding off. Upon seeing this, Wukong dropped the lead, the horse stopping in it's tracks immediately, as Wukong rushed to grab onto Sel's wrist, preventing her from tipping to the side.

"Not like that." He hissed, keeping his grip steady around her wrist, only letting go once Sel had righted herself. "It has to be a natural, accidental fall, the kinda thing that just happens over the years."

"..Oh." Sel said, "...It would've been nice for you to lead with that."

"I didn't think I'd have to!"

"Well, she's certainly picked up on this quick." Macaque said, standing beside Wukong, the two of them watching has Sel rode the horse across the field. Over the course of two weeks, she'd managed to work up to a trot (she hadn't gotten to the point of attempting a canter), and could now ride without Wukong leading the horse.

"She's a fast learner." Wukong said, "Unlike you- don't think I've forgotten how you refused to let me teach you how to ride."

"I just didn't think it was important, that's all." Macaque leaned away from Wukong slightly, noting a recognizable glint in his eyes. "...And it's still not important, I don't really need to ride at all-"

"Hey, Sel- could you come here for a moment?!" Wukong yelled, and Macaque, realizing that the other was up to something, turned around, trying to get away. He was stopped as Wukong grabbed hold of his wrist using his tail, with a surprisingly tight grip. Sel slowed the horse to a stop in front of them.

"What's up?" She asked, either not noticing or purposefully ignoring how Macaque was struggling to get out his wrist out of Wukong's grip. Wukong summoned his cloud, stepping up onto it, pulling Macaque along with him.

"I'm gonna need you to scooch back just a bit." Wukong said, and as soon as Sel had followed through- "Perfect."

He grabbed Macaque by the waist (and Macaque would firmly deny squeaking, but both Wukong and Sel knew what they had heard), lifted him up, and safely deposited him on the horse, in front of Sel. For her part, Sel immediately adjusted, wrapping her arms around Macaque to keep her hold on the reins, smirking a little at how she could feel Macaque stiffen. She couldn't see his face, but from how tense his back was (as well as the shade of pink his six ears were turning), she could gander a guess. Wukong, who was now back on the ground, holding the lead he had just created, could see the other monkey's expression though, and he outright laughed at it.

"Man- Sel, you should see his face!" He giggled, seemingly ignorant to the fact that if he was in Macaque's position he'd probably react the same way. Sel rolled her eyes.

"I don't need to see his face." She said, "I can tell by his ears just fine!"

That comment seemed to smack Macaque out of whatever stupor he'd seemingly fallen into, as in one blink, his six ears had turned back into two, the pink colour vanishing with them. Sel couldn't contain her "aw..." of disappointment, she honestly liked seeing Macaque with his glamours down. (It had taken a long time for him to even be comfortable enough to be around her with his glamours down.....she knew how much trust he was giving to her when he did so. It made her heart feel warm and fluttery on the inside- and she knew Wukong also felt the same way whenever he spied the shadow monkey with his glamours down. Still though, she couldn't fault him for putting them back up now though.)

"I hate you." Macaque hissed, and even though she couldn't see his face, Sel could just sense the glare he was giving Wukong. "I hate you both so much."

Despite what he said though, he made no attempt at getting off of the horse, staying perfectly still.

"Heh, sure, we'll pretend any of us believe that." Wukong said, and, ignoring Macaque's indignant sputtering, he turned, clicking his tongue and starting to walk, leading the horse behind him. Macaque startled, slightly off balance, and Sel pressed her arms into his a little more, to keep him from falling off.

"Relax." Sel whispered, "Neither of us will let you fall."

"Unless it's funny, of course." Wukong added, and Sel had the feeling that if her arms weren't on either side of Macaque, he would slide off the horse just to tackle Wukong.

As it was, he stayed in his position, perfectly silent.

Sel, sensing that Macaque probably wasn't really in the mood for conversation (he was probably still recovering from the shock of how he ended up in this position to be honest), let herself start daydreaming, knowing that Wukong could easily lead the horse without her needing to steer. Wukong, not willing to let there be total silence, started humming a tune that Sel couldn't quite recognize, but was still pleasant.

The moment ended as Wukong suddenly froze, the horse obediently stopping with him. Sel jolted out of her daydream from the sudden lack of movement, feeling Macaque do the same.

"...Ah." Wukong said, turning to face the both of them with a nervous smile. "Um. Sorry but uh- I may have just remembered that I. Think I promised to train with MK today?"

Macaque snorted, while Sel pulled out her phone, checking her calendar.

"...You were meant to start training with him about ten minutes ago." She said, "If you hurry up, you can probably explain it away as just having been busy with the monkeys."

Without another word, Wukong was gone, Sel feeling a slight breeze rustle her hair in the Monkey King's wake.

For a moment, both Sel and Macaque remained sitting on the horse, staring at the spot Wukong had just been standing in.

"...Sel?" Macaque asked.

"Yeah?"

"....I don't know how to get down."

#Monkie Kid #my writing #fanfic #OC #Sel (OC)#i literally dont know what else to tag this as

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tavard-ffxiv · 3 years ago

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FFXIV WRITE 2021 - #13 ONEIROPHRENIA

Riding a horse was very different from riding a chocobo. The center of balance was entirely different. With two sets of legs, the way the rhythm worked was different. Hells, how the rider used their body was very different. It baffled Jaxon how it could be both quite familiar and utterly foreign in the same moment.

And it definitely wasn't as easy as he thought it would be.

Like many an Ishgardian, he'd ridden often and from a young age. So while he expected a learning curve, he didn't expect it to be this steep.

It didn't help there was a herd of Qestir children silently giggling behind their hands at the Reunion as they watched a seven-fulm-tall Ishgardian try to figure out how to balance on a sturdy old gelding normally reserved for toddlers.

Trotting was a special kind of hell given the horse's backbone and his instructor's firm insistence that he learn without a saddle. So there wasn't even a blanket to cushion his nether regions from being mercilessly bounced up and down on knobby horse bone.

The crowning indignity was he was barely going faster than a walk.

"Ow, ow, ow," he muttered, one hand braced on the horse's withers and the other gripping the coarse mane to offer a bit of balance. Horsehair was slick and it was an effort not to slide to one side and fall off. Again.

The patient older Qestir woman teaching him shook her head with a faint smile. She gestured to her shoulders and then let them sag, arms waving limply for a moment. Relax. She took a loud breath and blew it out audibly. Breathe.

"Yes, ma'am," Jaxon said by reflex, trying to let himself relax and breathing in more than short frustrated grunts. Honestly, that did help but too much and he ended sliding again, only to have to scramble to find the right spot to sit again. His cheeks felt hot with frustration and embarrassment as she moved and waved his patient old horse to a stop. He was pretty certain he was going to be told to get off again and she was probably going to try and correct his position. He sagged a bit and then gave her a puzzled look as she grinned, nodding approvingly.

"What? Is this-- Oh." She had led the horse to the gate and opened it, giving the gelding a tap on the flank. "We're going out." She nodded, but held up her hands with the palms showing. "Oh, go slow?" He was getting better at reading their expression and gestures apparently because she smiled. "Cool him off, right? I can."

The gelding was a bit sweaty, although mostly from his legs rubbing on its reddish hide. Jaxon sighed and patted the horse's neck apologetically. "Sorry, friend," he murmured, fingers absently smoothing through the black mane. "I'm sure you're used to smaller people who don't fall off near as much, huh?" The horse snorted gently, head down and relaxed as they ambled through soft grass within sight of the Reunion. "I-- Oh, shite!"

Jaxon's quiet conversation turned into a yelp of shock as something long, slim and white darted through the grass nearly under his horse's hooves. Predictably, the poor gelding had the expected reaction. Throwing his head up, the horse gave a squeal and threw himself sideways a lot faster than the half-Elezen expected the old gelding to move. So he went one way and the horse went the other, galloping back toward the safety of his pen. Meanwhile, Jaxon landed on his back hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Fortunately, the grass was a half-decent cushion but his vision still blurred.

"Ow," Jaxon growled. "Halone's Frozen Tits," he muttered, moving a hand to rub the back of his head. There was a little bump where he'd whacked against a hard clod of dirt.

"Oh dear. Sorry about that," said a young and prim feminine voice.

"The Hells!" Jaxon said, jerking himself to sit and looking around at...nothing. "Wh--"

"I didn't mean for that to happen," said the voice from nowhere. "I should have watched where I was going."

"Um..." Jaxon's ears worked in quick flicks as he tried to locate the source of the voice. He was starting to worry about how hard he hit his head when he determined the voice was coming from a low rock's direction. "What is--"

He stopped, blinking as a sleek white creature hopped on top of the small rock before standing on its high legs to get a better look at him. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking at. It resembled something like a cross between a cat and a snake with dark eyes, a pointed face, and a long limb body. The legs were quite short, although seemed dexterous as the creature rubbed it's paws together and then wiped them over its face to smooth the long whiskers. It's fur was a pale tan with paler tones on the face and belly. The short legs and a mask across the eyes were a few shades darker to a soft brown. A long fluffy tail curled around neatly as it peered at him, little round ears perked.

Jaxon just continued to stare. "....Ah...."

"It's rude to stare, you know," the little creature said. "Have you never seen one such as I?"

Jaxon wondered if he was having some kind of odd hallucination from a head injury. "...Nope. I have not seen a...whatever you are."

"I am Emi," the creature said, straightening proudly. "A daughter of Kamaitachi." There was a long pause. "The weasel auspice."

"I don't know what any of that means," Jaxon said in a bewildered tone as he slowly pushed to stand. "All I know is I fell, hit my head, and a weird cat is talking to me."

"I am not a cat!" Emi gave an angry chattering sound, fur standing on end as she arched her back. "Weasels are nothing like cats!"

"Okay! Okay!" Jaxon raised his hands in surrender. "No need to get upset. I didn't mean it as an insult."

Emi snorted, a tiny sound, as she settled. "I suppose one cannot expect an ijin to have any manners." She darted forward, ignoring Jaxon's startled jerk as she nimbly climbed his body and perched on his shoulder. "In apology, you will carry me to the Reunion."

"Um," Jaxon turned his head to stare into black eyes as the weasel peered at him. "All right then."

Not sure what else to do and still not completely convinced this wasn't the result of a concussion, he turned and started walking back toward the Reunion. "I'm Jax by the way."

"It is your honor to meet me, Jax," Emi said primly, busily grooming her luxurious coat into shimmering perfection.

"Apparently it is," the half-Elezen murmured in a confusion as he trudged on, trying to ignore sore muscles and a growing headache. He'd figure all this out later. Maybe the Qestir would know what the hell an auspice was...or at least a weasel.

Master Post | FFXIV Write Information | Prompt List

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #my writing #oc: Jax #oc: Emi

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years ago

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Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 13

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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[Ron]

The moment immediately after Ron admits his feelings, and before he draws up the courage to snog Hermione senseless in public seems to last a lifetime, and it's bursting with questions.

Why does he hesitate? He can't simply tell a girl he's falling in love with her, pause to stare at her lips, panic, and then do nothing.

But that's what Ron does. Maybe she's thinking the same things he is: that they agreed not to kiss, and they weren't expecting to admit such strong feelings, nor were they expecting them to be reciprocated. Although it feels silly not to kiss, doing so would feel like breaking a promise, and they have all night to kiss, so what's the rush? Why risk outing their relationship at the wrong time simply because of the heat of the moment?

Or maybe she's simply wondering why the fuck he isn't kissing her.

However long the moment lasts, it's over when a drunken Seamus staggers up to them and interrupts.

"Ron, Hermione! I've been looking for you," he says, stumbling through the crowd to greet them, oblivious to what he's barging in on. "We're going on the Deathstick. Come on!"

Seamus points to the ride in question — the Deathstick — and next to Ron, Hermione groans in response. In the middle of the venue is a thrill ride that towers up and through the ceiling. Riders pair up into compartments and rotate around a tall pillar, rising through the ceiling until they… well, Ron doesn't actually know. Presumably, they drop, but it all takes place above the roof, out of sight. That's probably part of its appeal.

The pair follows behind Seamus, and Ron can sense the reluctance from Hermione. One glance at her pale face tells him she's not much of a thrill-seeker.

"You good?" he asks.

"I'm not sure about this," she says, eyeing the tower with trepidation.

"You don't fancy an adrenaline rush?"

Hermione laughs. "Oh, I do. It's just that my idea of an adrenaline rush is a glass of wine and a murder mystery."

A glass of wine and a murder mystery sounds fantastic right about now, and Ron can't help but smile at the thought of Hermione curled up on the sofa with a book, her legs on his lap, and a cabernet in her hand.

In the London flat that they share, of course.

"Well, that sounds amazing," says Ron. "We don't have to go." His heart sinks the moment he says it, and he's suddenly aware of how much he wants to go.

"You should go," she says, noticing his reaction. "I'll wait for you."

Ron smiles at her and turns toward the ride. The rest of the wedding party has already partnered up for the two-person compartments — Harry with Ginny, Dean with Seamus, Neville with Luna, and Demelza with Lavender. Ron's all alone.

Ron looks back at Hermione and follows her gaze to a group of girls — possibly another hen party — running into a similar dilemma. Hermione scowls as one of the partner-less girls scans the crowd, looking for someone to ride with. He can hear a faint suggestion from her friend, "Why don't you ask that red-head? He's cute…"

"I'll go with you," Hermione says, smiling back at Ron. "How bad could it be?"

"Are… are you sure?" he asks, unable to stop the smirk that spreads across his face. She's jealous.

"Yes, I'm sure," she says. "I wouldn't want you to ride alone, or worse, with a complete stranger."

"Agreed, I'd prefer to ride with my wife than a girl I just met," says Ron, winking at the girl who's both. They proceed to the ride entrance, and Hermione hesitates before letting Ron pull her along.

"I'm sure the view up top will be worth it," she says, her voice shaking.

Once they reach the front of the line, they pile into the tiny cell and strap themselves into their harnesses. Hermione's fingers intertwine with Ron's as the doors close, and she lets out a small whimper. Ron squeezes her hand.

"It'll be over soon," he assures her, even though he's not sure he wants it to be. It's probably only a five to ten minute ride, and the small compartment has a lot of privacy.

As if on its own accord, his thumb starts caressing the top of her hand.

They start their slow ascent to the top, passing through The Slug Club's ceiling into the night sky. Hermione squeezes Ron's hand more firmly, and Ron can feel her rising pulse through her fingers.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm okay," she says, her voice trembling.

Las Vegas shrinks as they ascend into the night sky, until they're floating above a sea of sparkling lights. The neon signs, vehicle headlights, and illuminated windows pepper the desert floor, now looking like tiny, electric legos that Ron could pick up and hold between two fingers. From up high, the city looks like the perfect set of pieces to rearrange and create something new from scratch. It reminds him of his childhood daydreams when he would build castles and fortresses with blocks and imagine he could fit inside and live there. He'd write himself into stories about knights, talking statues, princes, and princesses, and play out the unlimited possible futures and happy endings.

The weight of Hermione's hand pulls him out of his reverie, but only partially. There's something magical about the moment, hovering above the world, with the commotion of the city reduced to candlelight, that keeps him tied to the innocent optimism of his younger self. As a child, Ron lived his life guided by a heart that had never been broken, and he would have had no issues falling in love with a princess before learning her middle name. Maybe there's wisdom in that forgotten mindset because right now, the idea of building something beautiful from nothing and writing his own happy ending feels more relevant than ever.

"Check out that view," says Ron, breaking the almost silence.

They rotate on the axis, and Hermione's eyes tear up as she admires the electric grid below. Ron continues to rub circles onto her hand, matching the calming pace of his breath. Hopefully, she feels a moment of peace too.

Away from the ambiguous city noise at ground-level, it feels like he's been submerged in silence at first, but as his ears adjust, the subtle sounds of their breath fill the space. It's a sound he hasn't heard in a while, and upon a closer listen, he starts to make sense of it — it's like its own language, nuanced but informative. His calm, rhythmic breath matches the peace of the moment, and as they slow to a stop at the ride's highest point, Hermione's choppier, erratic breathing reminds him that at any second, they'll drop into freefall.

"It's beautiful," she says, squeezing his hand back and admiring the view.

"So beautiful."

Hermione must sense by the closeness of his voice that he's looking at her, not the view, and she turns toward him with a smile on her face. They lock eyes, and the heat in her gaze suggests that if she weren't strapped down by a harness, she'd be snogging him senseless by now.

Then they drop into freefall.

The quiet of their carriage turns to screams of adrenaline as they plummet toward the ground, only to rise and drop again; how many times, Ron doesn't know, but he grips her hand as the only still, unmoving anchor to reality as the world blurs around them.

Eventually, their screams turn to laughter, and Ron's relieved to see Hermione smiling wide, her eyes sparkling. Her face is red, her hair is frizzing out every which way, and Ron has never seen anything so gorgeous.

"That was amazing!" he says once he catches his breath, and his heart rate returns to normal. "How do you feel, Hermione?"

"I don't know yet. Give me a second," she says, but her smile suggests she's just fine. "A little dizzy."

"Well, let's get you to a bench."

As they exit the ride and head over to a bench to rest, the rest of the wedding party pours out of their compartments, unsteady on their feet, and Ron has to stop himself from looping an arm around Hermione. Instead, he reaches for her arm under the guise of supporting her balance.

"I'm so proud of you!" he exclaims when she plops to a seat.

"What? Why?" she groans, leaning back on the bench and closing her eyes. She deepens her breath as if staving off nausea.

"Because you just did something that terrifies you, and it took a fuckload of courage."

Hermione laughs. "You did it too."

"Nah. Stuff like that doesn't scare me," he says as he sits next to her and waves off her questioning glance. "You're amazing, Hermione. Really."

Her eyes crack open for a moment, and she smiles at him. Ron's extra aware of the distance between them and how easy it would be to close it. He could just pull her into his lap for a quick snog. Who's really watching?

He doesn't have the chance to act on the temptation before Harry's panicked voice diverts his attention.

"Ginny! Are you okay, love?"

Harry sprints past their bench faster than a lightning bolt to where a sick Ginny is leaning over a rubbish bin.

Without a second thought, Harry rolls up his sleeves to hold her hair back. He doesn't bat an eye when she's sick yet again, and when she finishes, Harry pulls her into a hug and kisses her forehead, paying no attention to the risk of contaminating his shirt.

"I want that," mutters Hermione, staring wistfully at Harry and Ginny.

"Want what?" asks a confused Ron.

"Aren't they cute?"

Ron scoffs. "No, they're not. Look at them. They've never looked worse," he says, laughing.

"Well, that's exactly what I mean!" says Hermione, turning toward him now.

"Explain yourself."

"You and I think they look… awful right now," she says, gesturing toward Harry and Ginny, who are still embracing. "But even though they're stumbling drunk and covered in sick, they still think the other is the most attractive person in the world. I think it's sweet."

Ron watches his sister and future brother-in-law. Harry mutters something in Ginny's ear that makes her smile. The look in his eyes is one that Ron never wants to see directed at his sister, but Hermione has a point.

"I want to know what that's like," she says.

Ron looks over at Hermione, and he can't help but smirk.

"What?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.

"You do know what that's like, Hermione."

For good measure, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She catches his hand and leans her cheek against his palm. Her cheeks flush pink, and in a bold moment, she turns her head and presses a kiss to his hand.

He almost gets lost in the moment before he remembers that the reasons he can't kiss her are the same reasons he can't stay here and cradle her face. She seems to have the same realization and lifts her head, letting his hand drop back to his side.

She smiles at him, and there's a glint of something in her eye — mischief, maybe.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, fully knowing his tone comes off as suggestive. He doesn't care.

"That I owe you a drink."

Ron raises his eyebrows. "But didn't we agree to stay sober tonight?"

She raises hers back. "Just one drink?"

Ron smiles. The way he sees it, his best life decisions have been made while drunk with Hermione Granger.

"Just one drink," he confirms.

Hermione grins, and by the look she gives him, he knows that she doesn't mean just one. It's okay, though, because he doesn't either.

When they reach the bar, Ron's disappointed to discover that they aren't the only ones in the wedding party with the idea. It appears that the adrenaline rush of the Deathstick has made everyone thirstier, so their friends scatter in pairs around the taproom. With everyone's attention a quick shout away, Ron's hopes of stealing a kiss from his wife diminish.

"Hello again, Mr. Weasley. Miss Granger. Can I get you a drink?" asks Rosmerta, approaching them with a smile.

"Sure," says Ron. "Madam Rosmerta, what is the most popular cocktail at this bar?"

"Madam! I like that!" smiles Rosmerta. "Our most popular drink would probably be Felix."

"Never heard of it!" says Ron.

Rosmerta leans across the bar as if preparing to tell him a big secret. Hermione and Ron lean in to listen.

"Years ago, a customer came in and handed over directions to concoct a very specific drink. He called it 'liquid luck'," she says, winking. "At first, we laughed at him; thought he was taking it way too seriously. He was a very superstitious type. The joke was on us, though. He hit up the casino and left five million dollars richer. We ended up naming the drink after him."

"Bloody hell. We'll take two of those!" he says, sending a questioning glance toward Hermione, who nods.

"Don't get too excited," says Rosmerta as she fixes up two shimmery golden cocktails. "No one's ever been able to mimic that level of luck, though many have tried." She slides the drinks across the bar to Ron and Hermione and shrugs. "It tastes good, though."

Ron reaches into his pockets to fish out some cash for Rosmerta. She deserves a big tip for putting up with a rowdy crowd like this one, and who knows what rude customers she's had to deal with today.

"Thanks, Rosmerta! Can you hold the straws on those, please?" he asks, just as Rosmerta is reaching under the bar to grab two plastic straws to plop into their drinks.

"You sure?" she asks, hesitating before the open cabinet.

"Yeah," says Ron. "Save the sea turtles, right?"

"As you wish!" says Rosmerta.

Ron turns back toward Hermione and opens his mouth to speak, but pauses when he catches her eye. There's a fiery passion in her gaze, and it's something that Ron has never before seen in a woman's eyes, at least not directed at him.

Her look is like a spotlight, yet he doesn't mind the attention. It feels like he's on a stage, and no matter what he says or does, it will earn him a standing ovation. He can't help but wonder if Hermione's ever looked at a man like that before, but before his insecurities can take root, she springs forward and crashes her lips against his.

It takes some time for Ron to process what's happening before he responds. He's not entirely sure how much, as time might as well stop turning. When he gets his bearings, his fingers snake into her hair, and he holds her head in place, although he doesn't need to as she makes no effort to break away from him. She kisses him with a passion that Ron would expect behind closed doors only; the way her tongue slides between his lips is slow and sensual, yet eager and full of lust, and the sound she makes when he gently tugs at her hair sends Ron's mind spiraling into dangerous fantasy territory.

With great reluctance, they pull away, panting to catch their breath. Ron doesn't even think to look around and check if anyone saw them. As far as he's concerned, they're the only two people in The Slug Club.

"I know we were trying to keep this quiet, but—" she says, but Ron cuts her off by pulling her lips back to his.

The second time is even hungrier. Ron can feel Hermione's teeth bite his bottom lip, teasing him, as her hands slip around his shoulders. She lets out a soft moan as her fingers trace the muscles of his arms, and any negative thoughts he's ever had about his body — too lanky, too scrawny, not athletic enough — float to the background and become irrelevant. The increasing pressure in his shorts suggests he's close to getting carried away, and although he wouldn't mind, he doesn't want Hermione to get a slap on the wrist for public indecency, so he forces himself to pause.

When they surface for the second time, Ron notices that she's ditched her bar stool and is standing before him, leaning her weight against his leg, dangerously close to his growing erection. His arms have managed to wrap around her hips, and his hands are shamelessly resting on her bum, but again, he pays no mind to the crowd. There's only one person that matters.

"I haven't even had a sip of Felix yet, and I already feel like the luckiest man in here," he says. "What inspired this?"

"It was everything. I swear every time you look at me, and every little thing you say, it gets more difficult to keep my hands off of you."

Ron pulls her against him, tilts his head up, and presses a light, chaste kiss to her lips. He loves that she's short enough to reach his lips when he's sitting down, and her face is just as beautiful from this new angle. He wants to see it from every vantage point possible.

"What was the tipping point?" he asks, his tone playful.

"The straws," she says. "And the 'save the sea turtles' bit."

Ron beams. Straws. Of course.

"What did sea turtles do to make you love them so much?" he laughs, tightening his embrace. "And can they give me some tips?"

Hermione smiles down at him and toys with the hair on the back of his neck. "You don't need any tips," she says, inching her lips closer. "You'll be just fine."

She closes the space between them, and once again, he immerses himself in kissing her. As if they're back on the Deathstick, the ambient noise of the surrounding crowd fades away, and he finds no difficulty tuning into the sound of her breath and the taste of her lips.

Nothing can distract him from this moment. The wolf-whistles around them fade away, and Ron has all but forgotten about the two sparkling gold, untapped glasses of Liquid Luck on the bartop. He could kiss her forever, taking mental notes on every response, every reaction, eager to discover this growing language between them, and the endless stories it can tell.

#be11a_vegas #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hpromione #muggle AU

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haphazardlyparked · 4 years ago

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the war AU, part 2

the part where it’s not actually a war, and i clearly know nothing about politics but i sure do a lot of BSing. :)))

---

Hikaj couldn't help but compare the double-edged sword he held with the woman who wielded it: High Lady Masara, a knight of the cultish order that half-ruled Amir, from what Hikaj had learned so far of the surprisingly secretive order. The sword itself was light and well-balanced, with unfamiliar runes etched down its length that had Hikaj’s best warmage tearing his hair out. It all reminded Hikaj of the first time he had met the high lady.

She had visited Kas years ago, with one of her king's councilors, and they had both been unfailingly polite. Duke Inarim, High Lady Masara, and their whole, modest entourage. Hikaj knew, because his spymaster had complained that the Amirran servants had answered all of his questions happily, or happily misunderstood them—and his veiled offers of bribes for real information.

At the formal dinners they attended, the high lady said little, but was always polite, and Hikaj had heard her laugh often enough. It had been enough to make him wonder if she knew something incriminating about every person she crossed paths with. Admittedly, he had been a little high-strung those days. Torral was the kind to be happy doing a job competently, but Hikaj's other dear uncle had liked the regency a bit too well. Hikaj had walked a fine line, trying to appear non-threatening while still presenting himself as a future ruler full of potential that his vassal kings and dukes could put their weight behind. It had made him very suspicious about every interaction around him.

But then they had danced, and Hikaj had started to see that High Lady Masara didn't laugh at anyone in particular, but at all the little parts of his court he hardly saw anymore. From the tiny carved woodland creatures that flitted through the ballroom's ceiling to the tendency to change glasses for each new drink at dinner, she had taken delight in the novelty of his court--not laughed at its secrets. She had seemed to know very little about Kas, actually.

Now, with the weight of Masara's strange sword in his hands, Hikaj was back to thinking that maybe it was the secrets. When he had recognized High Lady Masara in the knight he'd been told had charged his advance company alone, he felt a little bit like laughing himself. At himself.

They'd gone riding during the Amirran visit, in a large party that scattered into small groups and wended their collective way through the manicured Forests of the Empress-Mother. The ever-changing groups of courtiers flitting here and there again centered around a string of nobles who preferred the most sedate of paces. High Lady Masara had been one of those riders, hesitant in her sidesaddle, good-naturedly laughing at her own inexperience with a shifting tide of the Kassan court. Hikaj decided she simple hadn't had many chances to ride before.

Now, he wondered what kind of rider the knight Masara was. How many more things in Amir were mysteries to him?

***

Hikaj crossed his camp back to the bespelled tent, Masara's sword and scabbard in his hands and a nervous energy quickening his step. He should have let Qemaile go and poke the bear, he was the mage, after all - but Hikaj honestly wasn't sure if Lady Arlis would send poor Qemaile into a uselessly towering rage, or leave him crying and still unhelpful. Hikaj needed his mage, as temperamental as the man was, so he went to the tent himself.

It was guarded, but the flap was tied open for light, breaking the net of spellcloth. They had stopped burning the slightly caustic incense and started opening the tent after the high lady and her squire had each given an oath not to flee. Hikaj had made sure his healers looked after the high lady, too. While Lady Arlis had surrendered with barely a scratch on her, one of Masara's arm was broken and a spear had gone through - luckily enough, the healers told Hikaj - mostly skin and muscle where arm and shoulder met. It was declared to be healing as expected, and it had not seemed to trouble Masara too much on the (admittedly slow) ride back to Amir's capital city.

The ride had taken a week because of the hilly country, which turned large companies of men into slow, winding targets on the narrow roads, but Hikaj had taken the risk. He had also left a rear guard behind, to keep Amir's forces penned up in the blasted mountainous Foothills as a guarantee.

Now the spelled tent - and the bulk of the imperial soldiers - were all camped outside Amirasa's outer walls. At the Sascrin knights' request, the tent's opening faced the city that rose up on a high hill, topped by a sprawling palace that overlooked the cliffs and the sea on one side, and Amirasa on the other.

Hikaj blocked their view of it when he ducked into the tent.

He could tell they'd been looking because Lady Arlis had the intent, stormy look on, the one that seeing his blue-cloaked guards on the walls always provoked. She was leaning forward in her chair, her elbows on her knees, and she reminded Hikaj of a wildcat about to pounce. Masara, of course, was calmly collected by her side. But was she also angry behind that calm? Or was she hiding something else?

Or maybe he was reading too much into what was just polite civility. It didn't help that Masara's attention--but not her expression--shifted as soon as she saw what Hikaj was carrying. Arlis didn't see--she straightened and jerked her head to the side so that Hikaj couldn't see her face when she noticed him. Struggling to control her anger, probably.

She was able to mirror Masara's calm for abut half a second, and then her eyes narrowed suspiciously on Masara's sword.

"Oh, let me guess," the squire immediately snapped. “You have questions.”

Hikaj tried a smile. "There must be something you can speak about," he said, already conciliatory in his preamble. Part of him regretted already starting on the back foot, but the rest of him was focused on High Lady Masara's sudden smile.

She didn't say anything.

"Why should we spill secrets to the emperor we're at war with?" the young and very vocal Lady Arlis demanded.

For a fourteen year old, she was shockingly forceful. But then, she was an ambush-laying, sword-wielding fourteen year old. It didn't help that every time she opened her mouth, the high lady—who was an ambush-laying and sword-wielding noblewoman herself—would nod in agreement, and then cycle through a wide variety of polite looks.

Hikaj opted for what he hoped was the safest answer: technicalities.

"In the purest sense of common accord, we are not at war, because neither your king nor I have declared it,” he corrected Lady Arlis. “I suppose we could call it… armed conflict?”

Arlis gasped with deep offense. “Or more accurately, invasion or attempted conquest!”

Masara turned her steady gaze on Hikaj, and then stoked young Arlis's fire.

“You are correct Imperial General, technically," she said, turning her gracious concession into an elongated but. "Yet I fear my king has been a little busy fleeing your unprovoked… armed conflict... to make war declarations just yet.”

Lady Arlis leapt on that. "Yes! We'll see what the king says once - once he has a chance!" she told Hikaj, furious in her enthusiasm.

Hikaj was a general who knew when to retreat. He didn't quite try to hide Masara's sword and scabbard--there was nowhere to put it--but he lowered his hands and made it clear he wasn’t going to ask any questions about it. Of course Masara would want her weapon back--knights everywhere felt the same about that, Hikaj suspected, no matter how peculiar otherwise they were to him--but Qemaile wanted to study it more, and frankly, Hikaj worried it might scare some of the men if he returned it to her.

That problem for later.

Changing topics, Hikaj did his best not to get kicked out of the tent by the furious silences which had driven him from it before.

"Instead of declarations of war,” he said, in his best diplomatically soothing voice, “would you not prefer peace?"

Masara's neutral expression seemed to consider that, but Arlis frowned deeply.

“We had peace before you came,” the squire eventually said.

Hikaj looked at Masara when he answered. “Did you?”

She met his gaze, but for once, she was the one who looked away first. “Whatever we had,” she mused, “it was certainly not bloodshed from Amirasa to the Foothills.”

Hikaj bit back the dozen different things he wanted to say. He had weighed the risks and made his agreements before the first Kassan soldier set foot in Amir, and even if he was starting to re-evaulate those decisions, now was not the time to throw any plan away. Revealing any inopportune might weaken his leverages in Amir, and no matter how unfortunate this campaign was turning out to be, he did need this kingdom as a bulwark against Lapur.

So he winced and said, "No, it was not, you are correct. But I do believe smaller conflict is justified to avoid greater perils."

"For Kas, perhaps," Masara countered.

"Not just for Kas," Hikaj maintained, though he didn't mention Lapur specifically. He knew Masara would already be thinking of Amir’s other large, imperial neighbor; who west of the sea of sands didn’t? “Regardless of how it began - would you not like the chance to end it?"

That made Arlis scowl, though Masara smiled and dryly observed, “I am sure the terms would be so wonderfully generous."

Hikaj suppressed a shrug. "That is what negotiations would determine, I suppose."

Masara didn't answer, but her unchanging, humorless smile seemed to say, What treaties ever went well for the ones who were forced to the table by a greater military power? Even Arlis didn't say anything, though the naked outrage in her glare made it clear what she thought of this kind of coercion.

"How could we trust an agreement with you?" Masara asked finally. “We have no foundation for trust yet.” She paused, purposeful and considering, then added, before Hikaj could fumble for an answer, “Though we could work on that.”

Hikaj felt weakly grateful for the opening Masara left him. “What would you suggest?”

Arlis bristled again, probably ready to demand that the Kassans leave Amir immediately, but High Lady Masara said, “Something small, to start,” as though she were thinking aloud. “An easy trade. You could answer a question for me, perhaps, and I could answer one for you… or I could give you a demonstration with my sword.”

She didn’t look at the scabbard while she suggested the little deal. Hikaj met her dark, careful eyes, and told himself her offer was probably not a threat, and he definitely did not feel a sudden, thrilling swoop in his chest.

“All right,” he said.

Arlis scoffed and then muttered, just loud enough for Hikaj to hear, “I’ll demonstrate the Lady’s Peace for them.”

That was definitely a threat.

• • •

After whatever Lady Arlis had claimed to have done and Hikaj’s healers’ work, Masara's wounds all looked as though she'd had months to heal, not a little over a week. Her right arm was still in a sling though, so she held her sword in her left hand. She still wore the knee-length blue tunic that the healers had found for her too, as well as her gray knight’s cloak. But whereas her presence usually filled the small spellcloth tent, out in the open, she suddenly looked small and alone. Just one injured woman with a sword, facing off against a dozen archers.

That was probably what Hikaj's men had thought, right before Masara had charged them. He tried not to fall into the same trap when the high lady turned to him, smiled, and raised the tip of her sword with the ease of long familiarity.

“Shall I begin?” she asked.

“No!” Qemaile insisted from where he stood at Hikaj's side. He hopped from one foot to the other in his excitement, and from somewhere in his robes little bells started jingling. “You must explain what spell you plan to use! Incantation! Materials! Something?"

Masara laughed. Not at Qemaile, per se, but Qemaile retorted just the same, guestring out at Masara and her sword. "I want to know what I'm looking for!”

"You will see it," Masara assured him. It didn't really assuage Qemaile’s defensiveness, but she didn’t give him time to argue more. "Please, Imperial General, when you are ready, count to ten and then give the order to shoot."

She turned back to face the archers, who stood some hundred meters off.

Hikaj raised his hand and began to count. Before he'd even finished saying the first number, Masara's sword leapt into action, the tip of a blade tracing a large shape in the air before her. By the time Hikaj got to six, Masara's blade began to glow, first a small point of bright light, one of the etched runes turning to silver light that began to grow, sliding along the blade like liquid before it reflected into a bright arc of light that flashed, and then settled into a faint shimmer in the air. Hikaj reached ten, and lowered his hand. Twelve bowstrings twanged.

Fear flashed hot through Hikaj as the arrows whistled through the air--this was mad--but then all twelve shots slammed against the abruptly solid silver light, metal tips lighting in an incandescent spark before the wooden shafts splintered. Half-melted arrowheads and wood fell to the ground, and High Lady Masara lowered the sword.

"The arrow guard," Lady Arlis said into the silence, after the silver light faded away and Masara's sword was nothing but etched metal again. "It is one of the first things we learn."

“But I didn’t see the spell,” Qemaile wailed.

Hikaj was still staring at Masara. She had shifted the sword to her broken arm, and was holding it awkwardly in the sling so she could use her left hand to wipe sweat off her forehead, or maybe to brush her dark curls out of her face. He imagined her thundering down a narrow path through the Foothills, wreathed in silver spouting from her sword and staring down his men, and he felt a shiver in his spine.

“Figure it out, Qemaile,” Hikaj said. “I want that spell.”

“But my lord, it’s not a spell!”

• • •

In the tent (after Qemaile has asked his hundredth question and Masara had managed her ninety-somethingth evasive reply) the high lady shifted in her chair to turn a flat, expressionless look on Hikaj. It was just the three of them again, and an empty chair, but Masara didn’t even glance at Lady Arlis. The squire, for once, seemed just as unsure of what Masara would say as Hikaj.

“Imperial General,” the high lady said finally. “Who betrayed us?" She asked the question without preamble, firm and direct. Arlis closed her eyes and looked away. Was she surprised?

Hikaj himself was taken aback. Not was there a traitor, but who. How had Masara known? Had she known all along? If she’d known, that would change Hikaj’s understanding of what had gone wrong so far.

“I cannot build a foundation of trust alone, Imperial General.” The quiet, matter-of-fact tone was belied by the intensity of Masara’s brown eyes. She had said they could start with a small trade, an exchange of trust, but Hikaj suddenly realized this question was important to her. Maybe she’d been waiting for a chance to ask this whole time.

“No, of course not,” he agreed. He tried not to hesitate. Maybe the arrow guard had not been such a little demonstration, either. “It was the prince,” Hikaj said. “It was your cousin, Prince Panam.”

Masara closed her eyes, and then nodded once, shortly.

"I thought so," she said, and it was a quiet exhalation that seemed to take the strength out of her. She leaned back in her camp chair and bowed her head.

The silence was too loud; not even Arlis raised her voice to accuse Hikaj of lying. When he looked to the squire, he was shocked to see she had tears in her eyes.

“The High Priest, too?” she asked, her voice a thick whisper. Hikaj thought she was talking about the assassination that had drawn Kas into Amir, at Prince Panam’s invitation. Hikaj had had nothing to do with it, despite Arlis’s most heated accusations, but he had known the prince must have.

Masara didn’t raise her head when she replied. “It would seem so. Our own armed conflict, after all.”

“I’m sorry,” Hikaj found himself saying, feeling awkward and intrusive. “I’ll--I’ll leave you now. Have a good night.”

Then he rose from the campaign chair, flinched as the unstable thing folded loudly in on itself, and fled the tent.

#writing #masara #hikaj #the war au #i love aus #maybe 2021 will just be AUs #but tbh that woudl not be very different from most of the last few years lol #self indulgent 2021

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deadinsidedressage · 4 years ago

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How do you feel about going to trail rides where the horses have most of the time learned to just follow the horse in front of them? I see them getting lots of hate since "its not real riding" and that ppl should rather go to riding school than to trail rides. Here where i live, riding schools don't let beginners ride without handler and only in arena so it would be pretty expensive and not that fun tbh and it would turn into a lesson rather than fun and relaxing time on a horse in a forest.

That’s not an interaction with horses that will net you experience to learn to ride safely and confidently on your own. It can also be debated how safe those “guided trail ride” scenarios actually are. Not to disparage people who work there or people who’ve enjoyed going on them (I’ve been on a few myself), but placing beginners/non-horse people on horses with extremely varied backgrounds (and sometimes questionable soundness) isn’t a recipe for success. I’ve personally been on one with 25 people in the group with 2 employees, a lead and a back. That’s not a good ratio to actually help if someone falls and is injured or has a horse take off. When you add in that these facilities often don’t have helmets available... it’s really just a bad accident waiting to happen. Not to mention if your goal is to be an active rider with horse ownership in your future--- you’re not gaining anything valuable out of the experience. In my experience, the horses are taught to follow the horse in front of them (like in a pack line) and are often encouraged to ignore the rider on top of them. To these horses, you are not a rider you are a meat sack they’re packing. “Saddle time” doesn’t equate to better riding when it lacks the context of correct coaching. If you did a year of taking a guided trail once a week you would not have learned to ride you would have learned to be a passenger. I’m not entirely sure how to interpret “riding with a handler” but I am going to assume you’re referring to one of two things (if not both):

Someone coaching off a lead line or a lunge line

Someone coaching from the center of the arena

Both of which are tied up in being for safety and being for education. There are two things you need to know about horse riding:

It’s inherently dangerous

It’s not simple

Beginners are put on a lead line or a lunge line because they do not yet know how to safely control the horse. Nor is sitting correctly on a horse very intuitive when you first begin. To actual sit in a balanced way that means you won’t fall off if the horse suddenly stops (let alone takes off, bucks, rears, spins, etc.) while also exerting control of the direction and speed you’re traveling at is a very complicated bit of full body isolated muscle use. It takes a period to develop this and so yes, beginners are put in situations where they have the need to control the horse “removed” (in both cases the person with the lead line or lunge line can cede or take control when necessary). This allows the rider to actually develop their balance independently of developing their aids (aids = how our seat, legs, and hand work to control the horse). Which often is actually a means of accelerating the learning process even though it can seem to slow it down--- because while yes you’re not “in charge” of the horse, developing your balance first means a quicker adaptation period to using your aids correctly because you’re not having to fight your body to communicate with the horse (should be also greatly noted this removes a lot of frustration and discomfort from the horse being used for beginner instruction). When graduated off a line, yes an instructor stays in the arena because... that’s... that’s just how you get instruction? The purpose of a riding school or a lesson barn (or just taking lessons on your own horse or on a horse you lease) is that you are learning to ride. You’re not paying them for the privilege to ride, but you’re paying them for instruction on learning to ride safely, correctly, and confidently. While it seems really simple and straightforward when watching movies or shows (or even watching people out in the world), riding is complex. I can still recall the roughly year period of my life when I transitioned from walk/trot only to walk/trot/canter. There was a lot of muscle coordination and balance it took for me to do that and then even with that it took me a while to feel comfortable doing that. You need instruction to learn to do just about anything with horses and especially to do it correctly and safely. You take lessons when you are learning the basics, you take lessons as you continue to improve your skill, and even if you got to the Olympic level you’d still take lessons. Even if your goals are only to be someone who does trail riding, taking lessons to learn the fundamentals of balance and control should be something you pursue. As I said earlier, horses are dangerous. Hundreds of people die every year when participating in horse sports, including trail riding. To reduce your risk of being one of those hundred plus, you should invest the time in learning to safely halt, w/t/c off a lead, ride basic figures, ride basic obstacles, and develop a solid enough seat that if your horse takes off, rears, or bucks you should be able to stay on. People who are really wise and smart but are “only interested in trail riding” also invest time in riding their horse regularly in an arena, take regular lessons focused on developing their riding for their interest, and go to trail/obstacle specific clinics. Those people are the ones who are really looking out for themselves and their horses because at the end of the day... anything you do with horses is dangerous so anything you do to prevent a dangerous situation is smart. Of people who trail ride and only trail ride without any arena time, lesson time, or clinic time invested that I personally know or have known... they all experienced major falls or accidents. One couple whose horses I exercised for a few years only took the horses out to ride for hunting season. They only began riding in their middle age and never with formal instruction. So when one of their horses panicked and fell on the man absolutely crushing his pelvis... it wasn’t that big of a surprise. He’s lucky he wasn’t hurt worse.My aunt broke her knee going to mount up on a trail because her horse took off. She used to ride regularly as a under 20′s woman but has only been the occasional trail rider since she bought horses again as a 40′s something woman. If she rode regularly and worked on her horse’s training issues... probably avoidable. Her friends she rides with who don’t even have an initial formal riding education to fall back on have also fallen and had serious injuries. One broke several vertebrae and one broke her collar bone. These are accidents that while not entirely avoidable for someone with a much greater riding education (because no accident with horses is 100% predictable or avoidable) are way less common. Generally, I also live in an area now with a lot of “fair weather” (do not ride with much/any regularity) trail riders without formal education. As a result I also get to read a lot of “HELP MY HORSE DUMPED ME AND TOOK OFF IN CAP. FOREST AND HAS BEEN MISSING 48 HOURS” in our local equestrian facebook groups. Too many of those have the follow up where you learn the horse has been hit by a car, broke a leg falling off a cliff, or just... never is seen from again. So while one may seem more fun in the short term, in order to actively be going out and doing these things on your own and safely on your own you really need to put in the work of learning riding basics.

#Anonymous

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callmegwynbleidd · 5 years ago

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So, I thought it would be fun to make a bit of a... For lack of a better term study on a few scenes from different movies and series involving celebrities in the saddle. Naturally I'll be using Henry's riding skills in The Witcher and The Tudors as a more positive example. Then a photo of Kit Harington from Game of Thrones, along with a clip of Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston from War Horse as a negative example. Please understand I'm not faulting these actors on their performances or lack of effort, I'm simply pointing out the errors in their riding that brings discomfort to the horse. This is not the actor's fault, it's simply lack of horse oriented education. Unfortunately countless people think that you simply jump on a horse and go. But this couldn't be more wrong.

Positive example one: Henry's canter.

First off, he's got good form. His heels are down and he's holding the reins correctly. His hands are down and quiet, meaning he isn't moving his hands around much, and he isn't lifting them to high. His hips are loose, so he's moving with the horse's stride. He's also pushing his weight down into the stirrups and making himself an easy load for the horse to carry. You can also see him kick three times to keep the the horse in the canter before tightening his hold on the reins and bringing his steed to a halt. All in all, well ridden. Shout out to Joey for hanging on like a pro!

Negative example one: The war horse's charge.

First off, bad form. High, harsh reins, toes down, flailing legs and hard, heavy bouncing in the saddle. You can also clearly see Joey (the light bay or light brown horse) lift his head sharply because of how his mouth is getting hucked by his rider. The horses are trying so hard to obey their riders with the mixed signals they're getting. Tight hands and yanking at the bit says slow down, but hard kicking legs with spurs says speed up. Both of the horses are terribly uncomfortable, and Joey is clearly pained. All in all, poorly ridden.

Positive example two: A lost stirrup.

Unfortunately I couldn't find a clip where you can clearly see this lost stirrup I speak of, but I did find a photo.

See that? He's lost the left stirrup. But he keeps his heels down and rides smoothly through the canter. His hands are still nice and low, I'll be it a tad more busy as he shortens his reins. His hips are still loose and he still moves well with the horse despite being a bit off balance. Henry's riding has definitely improved over the years, but he still rode well back in the days of The Tudors! All in all, well ridden.

Negative example two: You know nothing of riding, Jon Snow.

First off, bad form. Slouched posture, high hands, far too forward legs, and toes pointed down. It just looks wrong. You can see in the clip below that Jon is pulling harshly on the reins to slow down his steed, but at the same times he's applying what I think is accidental pressure with his legs which the horse understands as a cue to speed up. He's also leaning towards the inside far too much in the turn. That darling horse is trying his best to adjust to his rider's ever shifting weight and mixed aids. All in all, poorly ridden.

I hope this somewhat educational post sheds some light onto the subject of poor on screen horsemanship. Yet again, this is NOT intended to be any form of hate towards these actors. In my opinion, any actor, hell, any person who plans on riding a horse should learn the basic technique of riding and practice. It will make the whole experience far more enjoyable for both the riders and their steeds. Plus, good riding looks far better on screen.

Bonus: A photo of my mare, Mags. Who would be far less forgiving towards those not so horse savvy actors and more than likely throw them clean off her back.

She does come with a friendly setting.

#horse riding #the witcher #henry cavill #equestrian

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last-wish · 4 years ago

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Feainnewedd: Chapter 5

Summary: Ciri meets the witchers and starts her training at Kaer Morhen, Geralt struggles with his new role and unexpected troubles demand outside help.

Pairing: Geralt x Yennefer

Word Count: 3,7k

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! This chapter took me longer than I thought, with the change of setting in the fic and all the stuff happening in the world. I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think! Cross posted to AO3. Special thanks to @mclintocks for her invaluable help.

“Ciri, stop right there!”

The girl brought her horse to a halt some fifty yards ahead of Geralt. “You’re such an old man!” She laughed. “Why do you hate fun?”

“I am an old man,” he said as he caught up with her. “But wait until you see Vesemir.”

Ciri spotted a half-smile on the witcher’s face as he overtook her.

“Well, if he raised you, he must be even more boring than you.”

Geralt chuckled. “When I ride into a new town, kids not much younger than you stare at me with their mouths open. The very bravest among them even dare ask me about my exciting life hunting monsters.”

“I have seen through you already. You’re just a boring old man hiding beneath that armor.”

“You’re really hurting my pride, Ciri. Don’t you have any mercy?”

“Not when you don’t even let me run a little. Come on, I’m hungry! Can’t we go faster to the next town?”

Ciri put on her saddest face—to little effect on the white-haired witcher.

“You have dried meat in your pouch.”

“But it’s awful! We’ve been eating this shit for weeks.”

“Language. You don’t want Vesemir hear you say that. And yeah, this meat gets tiring pretty quickly. But we can’t stop at every tavern and risk someone recognizing us. Or someone remembering us when certain people come later asking for a certain rebellious, ashen-haired, green-eyed princess. Maybe it wouldn’t be so obvious if we had cut your hair short.”

Ciri stabbed him with an unambiguous look.

“But I see that’s still not an option,” the witcher added quickly. “Anyway, don’t worry too much, the next town is the last one before Kaer Morhen. Then it’s a couple more days and—”

A rider appeared out of a gully that descended from the nearby hills. He hastened his horse in their direction, looking nervously towards the hilltops.

“Good morning,” Geralt said.

The man stopped before them.

“Another one of you? Are you coming to help?”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s a man-eater around here. I just guided one of your kind to the place where it attacked yesterday.”

“What, who—”

“I’m not staying here!” The man hurried his horse. “Go up the gully and you’ll find him. Or what’s left of him!”

“Fuck,” Geralt cursed as he dismounted Roach.

Ciri noticed then a shadow on the ground. At first, she thought it was just a cloud. But as it grew steadily, moving towards the rider, she felt something was off.

“Geralt…”

She raised her head and stared in disbelief. A beast that looked like it had jumped out of a tapestry crossed the sky, piercing the cold morning air with a horrifying shriek. Folding its monstrous, bat-like wings, the creature dived towards the rider, quickly closing the distance despite the man’s desperate efforts.

“Ciri, hold Roach!” Geralt said as he unsheathed his silver sword.

Ahead of them, rider and horse fell to the ground. The animal neighed when the monster plunged its claws deep into its belly. The man wheezed as the fangs pierced his throat mercilessly. The man-eater stood on top of them, raising its bloodied head with an almost royal look. The impression quickly vanished when Ciri noticed its hideous face crowned by two long horns. It was then that the girl saw a figure nimbly descending from the hillside, sword in hand.

Before it could get close, the monster lashed with its long scorpion tail in a semi-circle. Ciri looked at the man’s face as he stopped, wielding his sword before him. A long, ugly scar crossed half of his face. The beast must have been fixated on the man, too, since it did not notice Geralt approaching it from behind. With a quick pirouette, the witcher slashed its left wing. The man-eater roared and writhed. Instead of trying to dodge the tail coming at him, Geralt crossed his wrists, stopping the sting amidst an explosion of sparks and blood.

It must be one of his witcher tricks, Ciri thought as the two men circled around the beast, its wounded wing preventing it from taking off again. Suddenly, as if they were reading each other’s thoughts, the two men attacked at the same time. But the monster was still very much alive, fending off the men with a lash of its tail, a dodge and a counterattack.

From her vantage point, Ciri watched the fight with fascination. The girl had seen skilled warriors dueling in tournaments back in Cintra but this was completely different. Instead of the slow movements of plate-armored knights wielding heavy maces, the nimble jumps, spins and dodges of the two seamlessly coordinated men resembled more of a court dance. The man-eater started moving more slowly as the dark blood spilling from its left wing formed puddles on the ground. Noticing this, Geralt and the scarred man got closer to the beast.

The end of the fight was quick. In the blink of an eye, the scarred man bisected the monster’s tail and Geralt sliced off one of its legs. The other man then jumped on top of the beast and buried his sword up to the hilt, instantly killing the monster.

The man with the scar landed on the ground and sheathed his sword into the scabbard strapped to his back. The witchers wrapped their arms around each other in a quick, tight embrace.

“Still sharp, Wolf.”

“It’s either sharp or dead, Eskel.”

“As Vesemir always says. Are you going to winter in Kaer Morhen too?”

“Yes”—Geralt looked at Ciri—“We are.”

“You’re bringing a boy? It’s been a long time.”

“Not a boy,” Geralt said while Ciri approached them, pulling back her hood. “This is Ciri.”

“Oh. Forgive me, Ciri. Geralt, are you sure Kaer Morhen is the right place for her?”

“As long as your food is better than the dried shit we’ve been eating,” Ciri answered for him, “I’ll put up with you.”

***

“Again!”

Ciri wiped the sweat off her forehead with her wrist and looked at her feet, one in front of the other, standing on a narrow beam four feet off the ground. She held the wooden sword in front of her, keeping perfect balance.

“Now!”

The girl took two quick steps and swung the sword with all her might against the target—a leather sack roughly shaped as a person.

“Way too high. We’re aiming for the carotid artery. You remember where it is, right?”

“I’m not stupid, Coën.”

The young witcher smiled at her from below, his yellow-green eyes glinting playfully against his bronze skin. Both outsiders—Coën came from the School of the Griffin in Poviss—they had connected with each other from the start. Besides, Eskel was too calm for the energetic girl, Vesemir could be too protective and Lambert… Well, Lambert was insufferable.

“That’s what I thought,” Coën said. “Again, come on.”

Ciri returned to the starting position. She glanced from the corner of her eyes at the opposite side of Kaer Morhen’s courtyard. Geralt had said he would be sharpening swords but every time the girl looked at him, he was staring into the distance through a wide gap in the ruined wall. The girl focused back on the target and attacked.

“No, no, this time you got too close. Shorter steps. If you get that close to a good swordsman, they’ll hack you to pieces before you swing.”

“Ugh.”

“Come on, you were begging all day for sword practice.”

“Because you have me all day practicing stances!”

“What’s so bad about it? It’s just like learning to dance. Didn’t they teach you in court?”

“Oh, they did,” Ciri scowled at him. “And I hated it.”

“Don’t look at me like that with a sword in your hand,” laughed Coën as he approached her. “Hold the sword in front of you. See, your grip is wrong. You have to hold it… like this. Try again.”

Ciri got into position, took a deep breath and tried again.

“Better!” Coën patted her shin. “Your steps were fine, the strike was alright. But you have to swing faster or your enemy will parry easily. Again!”

The girl took a moment. She re-tightened her ponytail, stretched her arms and looked at the leather sack. There was a wrinkle in its surface that seemed familiar, almost like a frown staring at her above a pair of sharp cheekbones. She saw a dark helmet, crowned by two feathered wings. Cold sweat trickled down her back. But Ciri tightened the grip on her sword and fire burnt through her.

“Great! You did it perfectly! You have to show that to Geralt. Hey, are you alright? Ciri!”

Ciri felt the sword leaving her hand. She looked at it, slowly falling towards the ground. But the ground was further and further, and the sword became so small it disappeared from her sight. A sudden gust of cold wind stung her face and darkness surrounded her. Somehow, the girl knew she was standing on the same spot of the witchers’ keep. She then saw lights at the other side of the courtyard where Geralt had been sitting just a moment ago—only this time the wall was no longer in ruins. The air grew warmer and she was relieved to hear distant voices. But as the voices grew nearer, she recognized something unpleasant among them.

The torches were close. The stench of smoke, sweat and blood inundated the courtyard. An endless tide of people marched towards her. Ciri saw their eyes and shivered. They all glimmered with hate. Hate and bloodlust.

“Good men of Kaedwen!”

She noticed the clubs, the axes, the pitchforks. Stained with blood.

“You have done the hardest part. You must finish the job now!”

She heard sobs beside her. A group of kids. Some cowering in fear, some standing defiantly with short swords in their hands.

“To exterminate the pack one must kill every wolf, even the pups!”

Only two wounded witchers stood between the mob and the boys.

“You want to end this plague of mutants and freaks?”

A roar answered. Geralt and Coën looked back at her.

“Then have no mercy.”

***

The old man was sitting at an austere table. Surrounded by piles of books and parchments, he pored over the pages of a leather-bound volume. With each page he turned, a small cloud of dust took off, barely illuminated by a dying candle. The man was so focused on the book he barely heard the light steps approaching.

“Across the Veil,” said the voice behind him. “By Sebille Tilly, if I’m not mistaken.”

“One of the most influential books on the arts of revelations, prophecies and dreams, or so they say. Although poor Sebille’s prose wasn’t the lightest, I was just about to go from theory to practice on this dreams chapter. How is she, Geralt?”

“She just woke up. Fine, just a bit agitated. The vision she had…”

“What?”

“You know she called out to Coën and me. What she described, Vesemir… It must be the Fall of Kaer Morhen.”

A tense silence followed, finally interrupted by a sigh from Vesemir.

“And you both were in the vision, I suppose.”

“Ciri saw us at the courtyard, trying to protect a group of kids from the mob.”

“That happened almost a century ago, how would you…? I was one of the first to arrive here after the Fall. We saw the bodies, what remained of them. And I’ll never forget it, there was a group of students there, lying on the courtyard. I don’t know a damned thing about these visions of the past and the future, I’m just a fencing instructor. But I can’t help but feel this is bigger than Kaer Morhen, bigger than us.”

“I know. And she should be here by now. If she can’t help her… I don’t know what to do. I didn’t even believe in destiny before finding her, what am I supposed to do with this? I don’t care about the meaning of the visions, I just want her to be safe. And I know enough about mediums and Sources to realize someone must teach her to control her power before she hurts herself or someone else.”

Vesemir stood up and put his hand on Geralt’s shoulder.

“You said you trust her. She’s helped you before. She’ll help us now.”

Geralt squeezed Vesemir’s hand and nodded. “When I was hurt in Sodden, I don’t know if it was a fever dream but… I saw my mother. Visenna. She didn’t answer my questions but the look in her eyes was enough. Her silences were enough. She abandoned me because her life wasn’t fit for a child. She must have tried, I know that, but in the end it wasn’t enough. Look at us, what are we supposed to do with her? You took me, you trained and raised me, and I’m grateful for that. I would be dead otherwise. But I don’t want this for her. The danger, the hate, the loneliness of the Path.”

“Geralt. When I took you in, the School of the Wolf was in shatters. We were a ragtag collection of the few witchers lucky enough to be running errands far from here when the Fall happened. I had been on the Path, sure, but most of my life was here. I’d have never imagined I’d have to raise you, Eskel and Lambert. I did my best. But you… You shared the table with kings. You took impossible choices and bore the consequences. You saved a cursed princess and you protected the oppressed. You have friends among the elves, the dwarves, the dryads and the sorceresses. You are so much more ready for this than I ever was. And most important of all, you saved this girl. Destiny has brought you together for a reason. And I see how you look at her. You’re not Visenna, Geralt. You’re not me. And you’re not alone.”

“I just… Every night I close my eyes and I see Yen. I wish she were here. Because Ciri and I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for her. And I don’t even know if she’s alive… I must do this for Ciri—but also for her. Thank you, Vesemir. For everything.”

***

A few weeks passed since the incident in the courtyard. Ciri continued to train without experiencing more trances but her nights were becoming more and more restless. She usually woke up agitated in the middle of the night, covered in sweat. Strangely, she didn’t remember anything about her dreams after the incident, which did not make it any easier for her. And the lack of sleep was starting to affect her during the day.

“Ciri! Are you listening to me?”

“What?”

Geralt sighed. “Another bad night?”

Ciri yawned and nodded.

”Those damned nightmares,” Geralt said. “And this book is not helping. Too much dry theory. Let’s see… Do you see that shield over there, leaning on the wall? Well, this is the first Sign every witcher learns—Aard.”

Ciri saw the witcher’s fingers twisting and forming a strange gesture in front of him. An instant later, flames roared in a nearby hearth, an empty sack flew to the other side of the room and the shield fell with a heavy thud.

“Oh,” she gasped. “It’s like the trick you did with the manticore.”

“That was Heliotrop. Useful against a sudden attack. But it’s more advanced. Let’s focus on Aard, it’s the easiest Sign. You only need two things to do it. First of all, the gesture. Open your right hand. This finger… here. Bend this one… like that. And now extend these. Good. You can practice the full gesture now.”

“Aha! Not too hard. But why is it not working?”

“The second thing you need is concentration. You have to focus on what you want to achieve.”

“Alright. I want to knock that basket off that chair.”

“Good. You have to see in your mind how you’re going to do it. Close your eyes. Can you see it?”

“Mhm.”

“Then do the Sign.”

Ciri opened her eyes, arranged her hand forming the Sign of Aard and stretched the arm forward. But nothing happened. She tried again, with the same result. And again.

“It’s alright, Ciri. Sometimes it’s hard at the beginning. Remember, close your eyes. Focus. And… Don’t worry, I’ll do it again for you. Remember, you have to picture yourself doing it. Like this!”

The basket flew across the room.

“That’s what I’m doing! And I didn’t even moved it a bit. There’s no point, I’m blocked. I can’t do a simple Sign, I can’t control my visions and I can’t even sleep. It’s only getting worse. And I don’t see why this Sign is worth the effort, you only made an empty basket fly for a few yards and the people pursuing us are a bit heavier than that.”

“Hey, I know this is frustrating. But we’ll get through this, you’ll see. And Aard is very useful, I was just showing you how to do it. Besides, Signs can be intensified in some ways.”

“How?”

“Witchers have potions. Certain preparations can improve reflexes, build up stamina or accelerate healing processes. And strengthen the Signs too. But don’t get any ideas, a witcher potion would kill you on the spot. Only those who pass the Trial of the Grasses can bear the toxins and you know that’s not an option.”

“Then what’s the point of learning it?”

“There are other ways of intensifying Signs and magic in general. What you did that night in Cintra when you screamed… When you are pushed to your limits, your body and mind react differently.”

“So this will only be useful when I’m about to die?”

“Well, you can also provoke those reactions. In the end, what you need are heightened emotions. That stuff is not written in witcher books, I learned it from Yennefer. And I can tell you, it works.”

“Oh. Mmm. But how do you—”

The girl stopped when she saw the strange expression in Geralt’s face. The witcher cleared his throat. For an awkwardly long time.

“Anyways,” he continued. “We’ll get to that when you learn the Signs.”

The witcher was interrupted by hurried steps coming from the corridor. A smug face framed by rebellious red curls appeared from the doorway.

“Hey, you two! We have a visitor and I think you both know her. Come with me.”

Geralt and Ciri followed Lambert through the corridors of the eastern wing, making their way to the entrance hall of the old keep.

“Geralt, I knew you were fond of a certain sorceress. But I thought her hair was black. So tell me, does she enchant her hair when she gets bored or is this a different one?”

“Lambert.” Geralt looked at him with a stone face. “Stop.”

The witchers and the girl crossed the last doorway and arrived at the entrance hall. They almost bumped into Coën, coming from the stable laden with saddlebags. Behind him, among a sea of chestnut locks, a familiar face was nodding and smiling at something Eskel was saying.

“Welcome to Kaer Morhen, Triss,” Geralt said.

“Greetings, Geralt. You keep this castle of yours well hidden, I almost froze to death finding my way here.” She grabbed a wooden mug Vesemir brought to her and drank. “Now that’s better. Fiona! Glad to see you again, you look different. Come here, let me see you.”

“Fiona?” Lambert laughed. “I think you got the wrong girl, this here is Ciri.”

Triss looked at Lambert with a raised brow. Then at Geralt. She left the mug in Ciri’s hands and crossed her arms.

“We couldn’t take risks.” Geralt said. “There will be time to explain everything, but yes—her real name is Ciri.”

“You witchers are always full of surprises. Well, I have news for you too, Geralt.”

The sorceress noticed his suddenly blanching face and hesitated. Ciri saw him clenching his fists.

“Say it,” the witcher demanded.

“Yennefer is alive. We found her in Tor Lara, she portalled there from Sodden Hill somehow.”

Geralt closed his eyes and sighed deeply. The expression on his face was something Ciri had never seen before. She saw relief, regret and hope. Her throat dried up all of a sudden and she drank from the mug. For a moment, she did not even notice the strange taste. Not until Triss looked at her with her mouth open.

“Ciri, that’s not for—”

The girl felt a freezing wind stinging her face and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was floating close to the high ceiling of the hall. She saw Geralt, Triss, Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert below. Coën came back to the hall in that moment too. She saw the fear in their eyes. And she heard a metallic, unpleasant voice. It took a moment for her to realize her lips were moving and the voice came from within her.

“Verily I say unto you, the era of the Wolf’s Blizzard is nigh! The sword and the ax will flood the earth with hate and discord for it will be the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt! Beware, you two, who will fall in this struggle as your kind fell here before. Two teeth will kill the Griffin! Three teeth will slay the Wolf! Past and future converge now, the serpent sinks its fangs in its own tail. The world will end amid the frost and begin anew from the seed of Hen Ichaer. Watered with the Elder and the Altered Blood, the seed will not sprout but burst into flame! Watch for the signs! You will know it is time when the rivers run red with the Blood of Elves.”

#the witcher netflix #geralt x yennefer #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #eskel #witcher coen #vesemir #lambert #fanfiction

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buttsonthebeach · 5 years ago

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Lost Horizon, Pt. 2

@scharoux is the sweetest and most patient soul for waiting so long for part two of this story - thank you, dear friend, for trusting me with Rhaella and her epic tale!

This long fic picks up almost directly where The Last Game last left off - with Rhaella pregnant and alone in a world where Solas has removed the Veil, despite her attempts to stop him.

My Ko-Fi || My Commissions

Part One of Lost Horizon can be found here

Other pieces about Rhaella I have written include:

1. All Things Green and Growing

2. The Long Road Back

3. The Turning of the Year

3. The Same Kind of Scar (contains explicit content)

4. World Without End (contains explicit content)

5. The Last Game Pt. 1, the Last Game Pt. 2, and the Last Game Pt. 3 (contains explicit content), and the Last Game Pt. 4

Pairing: Rhaella Lavellan x Solas, post-Trespasser

Rating: Teen for violence, references to sex

Warning: Directly referenced character death for a character from DAI, general references to death and destruction

********************************

Merrill and Rhaella’s journey to Skyhold was slow. Isabela’s ship carried them swift and true - that part wasn’t the problem, even if the ship and all the crew seemed haunted, even if Rhaella could feel the absence of a woman she had never met as surely as she could feel the sea breeze - but once they were back on land, and traveling via horseback, her pregnancy proved a problem once more. She felt impossibly huge, her belly as big and round as the horse’s it seemed. Years of practice had made her a good rider, but the extra weight and the shift in her center of balance was even more pronounced now than it had been before, when she had ridden from Skyhold to Jader for her journey to Kirkwall.

The slow going meant she had plenty of time to take in how much had changed since that last journey, when she had been on her way to stop Solas. The burned out villages, and also the rapturous displays of light in the night sky - the dance of spirits thrilled to be free of the Veil. They rarely had to use a campfire for light, in fact. Wisps were drawn to them the way moths used to be. They frequently went to Rhaella’s belly after floating near her head and Merrill’s.

At least you’ll get beauty like this, little one.

Her magic surged towards each and every wisp when they came, but she tamped it down. Solas would know the feel of her magic, even across the distance, as surely as he would know the sound of her voice. They had not been pursued as far as they could tell, by people or by spirits, and she wanted to keep it that way. Merrill had known a draught to keep her from entering the Fade, which was their other means of concealment since they’d left.

“Poor Feynriel,” Merrill said the first time she brewed it. “I wonder what’s become of him in this world. If it makes more sense to him now, or less. Marethari made this for him while he was staying with the clan, and I learned it when we visited once. He was a Dreamer, so a draught like this didn’t always work for him, but it will be good enough for you and I. It feels like a different life to remember those times, when he was one of my biggest worries..”

“It does,” Rhaella said, even if she was only remembering a few weeks ago, when she’d been on this road going in the opposite direction, convinced she could stop the tide of Solas’s power from sweeping through and changing everything.

Sometimes on that long slow journey she lay there and was convinced the baby would never be born. She would be trapped like this forever, huge and waiting, adrift. She wondered how many other pregnant mothers lay awake in Thedas staring at the same moons and feeling the same way. They’d conceived their children in one world, and they would be born into an alien one.

Rhaella was grateful for Merrill’s training as a First, and her involvement in Kirkwall’s alienage since then. She still knew enough about pregnancy and babies to act as a midwife. She seemed less puzzled than the other midwife about the size of Rhaella’s belly, how it was bigger than they were expecting.

“Solas is not a small man,” she said with a shrug. “As long as you feel well, and you can still feel your little one wriggling about in there, I’m not worried.”

Solas is not a small man. The words sent a shiver of memory through Rhaella as she envisioned the days and nights that had led her to this moment. The size and weight of his body, how sheltered it made her feel, how whole. She pushed those thoughts away. She imagined, instead, a son that was as tall as him, who had only his kindness and not his narrowed vision, his pride. A son who reminded her of her own father.

I will love you no matter who you are, she promised anyway, feeling the child move.

The journey grew slower and more difficult as they climbed the mountain paths towards Skyhold. Rhaella struggled to lean far enough forward in the saddle to make her horse comfortable, so they had to walk the steepest parts of it. But, the feeling of being further from civilization, and the giddiness of having evaded Solas for nearly two weeks now, loosened their tongues a little, and Rhaella and Merrill were able to talk more freely. Merrill told stories of Hawke that she had not heard from Varric, and they shared their memories of growing up Dalish, compared notes on the Arlathvhens they had been to, speculated on whether or not they had ever met at one of them. It started to feel a little normal. Almost like Rhaella was back to being Inquisitor, and Merrill was one of her companions.

(It was probably a testament to how upside down things were now that Rhaella could think back to that time with fondness.)

Then they arrived at Skyhold, and all that warmth, all that strength she’d built, drained away.

It was not so much that the building was different. Its ancient stone was largely unchanged. It had weathered the creation of the Veil, after all. It was not even the scorch marks all over the courtyard, or the charred ruins of the stables.

It was the sound of the empty hospital tents flapping in the breeze. Of wooden shutters banging listlessly against stone walls.

It was the total, absolute emptiness of the place that had become her home.

The castle stood, but the people were gone, and the emptiness of that threatened to swallow her whole.

She should have been wise enough to expect this, to know that things would not be as she left them, that she would not return home to rally the people she’d left behind to some sort of unlikely victory. She had not heard from any of her forces in the weeks she’d been in Kirkwall. She’d hoped that was because Solas was intercepting their messages, that against all odds, there was still a home to come back to, a chance to set things right. Still, the blow of the silence struck her as true as any kick or punch ever had.

Then there was a high, hollow sound - a call, almost like that of a bird’s - but bigger, and then louder, like a trumpet, coming from the lower courtyard, and the sudden movement of a big brown blur -

“Thistle!” Rhaella called, and her hart galloped to her, drawing up short when he reached her, and then snuffling her with his warm, soft nose, whining again in his throat. She rested her forehead against his, breathed in the warm, woodsy smell of his hide. She scratched the place behind his ears that always made him stamp his feet with delight.

“Hello, friend,” Merrill said, approaching. “You’re a delight! I haven’t seen a hart like this in a long time.”

“He has been my constant companion for years now. I can’t even tell you how good it feels to see that he is okay.” Rhaella leaned her head against Thistle’s again and took another calming breath. She did not need to jump straight to despair. She had not even gone inside the keep yet. Who knew who else she would find, or what signs would be left behind - maybe everyone had moved somewhere else, or gone out into the world to help make a difference -

She wasn’t sure whether to feel reassured or afraid when the first arrow flew and landed at her feet.

Merrill’s hand flung out instantly, as if to shield her, and Rhaella’s magic crackled beneath her skin, longing to cast a barrier. She had to actively work not to cast the barrier without the Veil in the way, and it made her grind her teeth. Her son kicked wildly in her stomach at the sensation of the caged magic.

“It’s okay,” Rhaella called out when the urge to cast her spell passed. She looked in the direction the arrow had come from - the old tavern. She started in that direction, brushing off Merrill’s arm. “It’s me, it’s Rhaella.”

Another arrow flew, this one passing over her shoulder, so close that Rhaella could hear the pitch-perfect whine as it cleaved the air by her ear. Thistle snorted and stamped behind her, spooked, and Merrill took her staff off her back. The third arrow struck the barrier that Merrill cast, splintering into a shower of wooden shards, but Rhaella had seen where it was headed. Straight for her head.

Then Rhaella saw her, in the upper window of the tavern, leaning out now, bow in hand. Sera.

“Sera!” She called, waving her arms, walking closer. Surely it was an accident. Surely Sera had not actually meant to aim for a killing blow. “Sera, it’s just me.”

“Yes,” Sera said, nocking another arrow, half-drawing back the string. She stepped out onto the roof of the tavern. Her skin was even paler than usual, but her eyes were rimmed as red as the plaidweave armor she wore. “Who the fuck do you think I have been waiting for?”

Rhaella’s heart sank.

“Sera -”

“They’re all dead!” Sera shouted, the tears coming now. “All of them! Every person that mattered to me is gone now. Every person who trusted you to lead us. They all paid the price, and for what? So you could get a good shag with a man who never really loved you? And you didn’t even have to see it, did you, oh high and mighty Inquisitor? No, you got to be somewhere far away when it all came crashing down, all the fire and magic and shite, all the screaming and the dying. But I didn’t get that. I had to be here. I had to see it happen. I had to watch and even when I shut my eyes I had to listen. D’you know what it sounded like when your precious Commander died?”

Cullen.

No, not Cullen.

He was many things - not all of them good - but Rhaella prayed in that moment to the gods she didn’t believe in that Sera was lying.

“D’you know what it was like for him when all that bloody magic came rushing back, after all those years he’d worked to stop taking that Maker forsaken lyrium? I bet you didn’t even think about it when you went rushing back to your arse-wiping Dread Wolf. About how he would fucking scream -”

“Stop!”

Rhaella was aware that Merrill had shouted the word, that Sera was still talking, but the sounds were distant, covered up by a roaring as real as the sound of an ocean storm, of an earthquake. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even think beyond the roaring sound. It was only the kicking and rolling of her child within her womb that brought her back to the surface.

“You don’t understand,” Merrill was saying. “Rhaella went to Kirkwall to stop him. She tried her best. She never stopped trying. She fought him until the very last moment, but there was nothing anyone could do. He was too strong for anyone but another of his own kind. And Rhaella didn’t stop there. She has been aiding the wounded ever since then, and once she had her first opportunity to flee from Solas, she did. How do you think she ended up here?”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Sera said, and there was a sudden wave of magical heat rolling off of her, sparks at her fingertips. “Shite!”

She threw down her bow and Rhaella could see the trembling in her fingers. Sera had never wanted this, and now she was cursed with it. Magic.

Rhaella opened her mouth but no words came out. Her chest felt like it was caving in. Like all of Sera’s words had lodged there, true as arrows, true as morning sun.

“Please, believe us,” Merrill was pleading. “Neither of us wanted this. We’re trying to make our way in this world, the same as you.”

Sera shook her head once, viciously, and picked up her bow. She nocked the arrow again and started to draw it back. Rhaella realized that her hands were over her belly, feeling it warm and tight as a drum, but her magic was not seething inside her this time. She was making no real move to defend herself. Merrill grounded herself, started gathering the energy for a barrier. Then Sera lowered her bow.

“Get whatever supplies you need to get somewhere else. And then get gone.” Her eyes bored into Rhaella’s. “If I ever see you again, I will kill you.”

Then she disappeared back into the shadows of the tavern.

Rhaella felt rooted to the ground where she stood. Like she might never move from this spot again.

It was one thing to see the devastation of Kirkwall - a city that was not a part of her, another vein through which her own heart’s blood flowed - it was another to stand here in Skyhold and witness the magnitude of her failure. To hear those words of accusation dropped not from the mouth of a stranger but from a friend.

Cullen.

“Rhaella. Rhaella. Come on, love. I don’t think we want to stay here long.”

Merrill was using the same voice that Rhaella herself used to gentle Thistle when he was spooked. Her hands were on Rhaella’s shoulders, guiding. Their steps towards the keep were slow. Thistle whined, high and loud and mournful. Rhaella wondered what stories he would share of the day the Veil fell, if he could speak.

She tried not to study Skyhold as they walked through it. Tried not to see the blood or the winding patterns of lighting etched into wood and stone, the overturned tables, the shattered glasses. The kitchen was ripped apart but there was still food enough in the storeroom beyond it, and she and Merrill filled their packs with as much of it as they could reasonably carry. Rhaella felt the burden of her pregnancy all over again, how she would need more food than she ever had before on the road.

“Is there anything else you want to get?” Merrill asked when they were done there.

Rhaella nodded, and went wordlessly towards the long staircase that led to her chambers. Merrill did not follow. She was grateful for that.

Her chambers were exactly as she had left them. That was the most eerie part of all. She was not the same woman she was the last time she slept here. Her bedroom should have reflected that. But everything was in its place - each pillow on the bed, each paper on her desk. She picked up her field journal, which she’d left behind in her haste to get to Kirkwall. Then she saw the one thing that was out of place. A letter in an envelope, right in the center of her desk.

Rhaella

It was Cullen’s handwriting.

D’you know what it sounded like when your precious Commander died?

Rhaella tucked the letter quickly into her bag. She couldn’t read it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Merrill had distributed everything they gathered between Thistle and their other two horses by the time Rhaella returned. After a brief discussion, they agreed that they would keep both horses, using one for supplies and if one of their other mounts got tired.

“So where do we go now?” Merrill asked, her eyes shifting towards the tavern and then back to Rhaella.

“The Emerald Graves,” Rhaella said. “It has plenty of resources, plenty of places to hide, and it isn’t terribly far from here.”

“I have always wanted to see them,” Merrill said. “All those tombs of the elves who came before us, who fought for our people.”

Rhaella half wondered if the tombs had broken open when the Veil fell - if those elves had stepped out to a brave new world where their people had both won and lost.

She cast one glance back at Skyhold as they rode through its gate. The towers and battlements she’d come to know as home. It was lost to her now, like so many things were. Another ghost of her own, standing stark and sad against the blue mountain sky.

She took a deep breath and rode on.

They rode until nightfall, back down the same road they’d taken up the mountain, until Rhaella’s lower back ached so badly that they could not continue. She warmed damp cloths on a stone over the fire that Merrill built and then had Merill place them where it ached. She’d never wished so desperately for a bed in her life as she did in that moment, lying there on her side on the nest of blankets they’d arranged, unable to curl up into a ball or lie on her stomach, anything to relieve the pain.

“Warn me if it gets more intense,” Merrill said. “Sometimes that’s how it goes for women - the start of labor, that is.”

Rhaella felt a surge of panic and joy alike. Would tonight be the night she met her son, the person that made all of this worth it? The reason she continued putting one foot in front of the other on this road that had no real destination yet. At least not one she could see or count on. But the pain in her back did subside eventually. There was a new chill in the air by that point, a wind coming down off the mountains that made them both shiver. Rhaella looked to the saddlebags they’d removed from their pack horse, hoping for another blanket - and spied something familiar sticking out of one of the ones Merrill had packed. Red and fur-lined.

Cullen’s cloak.

She rose, went to it, pulled it out, half-hoping she was wrong. She wasn’t. She’d have known it anywhere, and of course Merrill would not have. She’d just seen something warm that might help them on their journey, and not another dagger aimed directly at Rhaella’s heart.

Merrill was a few paces away, standing watch since they didn’t want to risk setting wards. Rhaella went to her bag and pulled out the letter she’d found on her desk, the tears already rising in her throat, the guilt already swimming in her stomach. She found a tree that she could sit against, looking away from Merrill, and eased herself to the ground, cloak and letter clutched in one hand.

She read.

Rhaella,

I am never going to see you again.

That's the worst part of this. It isn't the pain or the screaming or the uncertainty. It's knowing I will never see your face or hear your voice again.

My hand is shaking. I hope you can read this if you find it. When you find it. I refuse to believe that you did not survive this. You and the baby - you have to survive. I have to believe this was all worth something, and if the two of you are still out there, it was.

You are the most incredible woman I have ever known, Rhaella. Your quiet strength - I know it will see you through. I have watched you move mountains and I know you will move them again and again.

(I hope this all makes sense. I was never good at words, and my hand is shaking, and everything hurts -)

I wish I could be there to see you move those mountains. To see your baby. The baby I thought of as ours no matter what. I understand that what we had was never going to be real. I am at peace with that. I would have given you everything nonetheless, Rhaella. You and the baby deserved that and I would have been whatever you needed me to be. If - if this isn't the end - if I can withstand this - if we are both alive - I will still give you everything. Not because I want you to wake up one day and love me. But because you deserve that as my friend.

Whatever happens - when you find this - I want you to know that I believe in you. I wish I had words good enough to express it. I don't. I believe in you the same way I believe in the Maker and his Bride. Maybe that is the closest I can come to explaining it. I believe in you, and if anyone can stop Solas, it is you.

If I die today, I die with nothing but faith and devotion in my heart. It was how I always wanted to go, Rhaella. It's okay. I am at peace.

Yours always,

Cullen

She was crying before she finished the third paragraph, of course. Deep, wracking sobs that hollowed out her chest, carved up her ribs, scratched up her throat. They were animal sounds. She wasn't sure how long they went on. It seemed there was no beginning or end to her grief as she thought of everything Sera said, how she'd sacrificed everything for a man who never really loved or deserved her. Were they both right? Was that really the source of her weakness? Had there been some final part of her strength locked behind a door with Solas's name written on it, where she hid all the memories that were good? Had that been the strength she would have needed that day in Kirkwall?

Rhaella cried into the folds of Cullen's cloak, her mind a maze of questions with no answers, and grieved.

Solas generally prided himself on being the master of his emotions. Controlling them, subduing them, and, when all else failed, simply hiding them away.

He did not bother hiding his frustration when he returned from his fight with the Evanuris.

He came into his Kirkwall base of operations and threw down the helm he'd been wearing, reveling in the loud sound of metal striking wood as it hit the table. Maybe if he did that over and over again he could drown out the sound of his failure - of half of the Evanuris's forces escaping into eluvians and shattering them as they left. He'd wanted to pull them out, root and stem, to be done with all of this, to focus on what came next - rebuilding, helping those that remained find peace and meaning in the new world he'd made. Helping himself find peace with what he'd done. Finding time to mourn the friends he had lost (sacrificed).

Mending things with Rhaella.

"We have not been able to trace them yet," Abelas said, calm and even, but with a hesitance that Solas noted at once.

"What else?" He barked. He'd tried not to be the kind of Commander who yelled unless it was truly what the situation warranted. Then again, he'd tried a lot of things. And yet here he was again, with nothing but ash and loneliness to show for it.

"Rhaella and Merrill are gone."

Abelas said it swiftly and calmly, with the precision of a surgeon making his first cut.

Solas felt the air leave the room.

He felt his power leach into the vacuum it left behind.

Raw mana, undirected, uncontained, filling up every object and person around him, lighting up the room with a blue glow, filling it with a subtle roar. He felt his advisors shield themselves in barriers, as if he would attack them. Perhaps he would. (He would not.)

Solas took a breath and drew his mana back in.

“When?”

“Not long after you did as far as we can tell,” Abelas said. Another surgeon’s cut.

“Together.”

“Presumably, yes.”

“Where?”

“Unknown. We have not been able to track them via traditional or arcane means, though perhaps you will have greater success with the latter. You know Rhaella better than any of us, after all.”

For a moment, Solas considered letting her go. It would be kinder in the long run. He’d told her that once, when he was a stronger man. But he still had dried blood under his fingernails, the screams of the dying in his ears. He still had unfinished business, and people who would seek to hurt Rhaella and his child.

(The child, the child, the child, he could hardly bring himself to think the word at first but now it was ringing through his mind like a struck bell, an endless echo. He might not get to meet his child if he could not find her, and perhaps that was what he deserved -)

He had to find her to protect her. To tell her one last time that he was sorry. If she went her own way then - if they went their own way then - he would just have to find a way to endure.

Var lath vir suledin, she had said to him the day he took the Anchor and her arm. Perhaps that was when she was a stronger woman. Perhaps he had broken them both.

“We leave for Skyhold at dawn,” he said. He turned on his heel and left. He had enough control, enough composure, not to spill his tears before them. He waited until he was in Rhaella’s room, surrounded by the smell of her, to do that.

He would endure, he told himself over and over again. He would endure. He simply wasn’t sure what it would cost.

#beach writes #beach does commissions #scharoux #rhaella lavellan #rhaella x solas #lost horizon #character death #angst #...like all the angst

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venus-says · 5 years ago

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Futari wa Pretty Cure Splash Star Episodes 38-49 + Movie

So this is what I've been missing for all these years???

It has taken me 10 years of being a Precure fan for me to finally watch Splash Star from beginning to end, and I feel like a fool becAUSE I'VE BEEN MISSING SO MUCH, HOW COULD'VE I SPENT TEN YEARS WITHOUT WATCHING THIS??????? This series is so good, THIS ENDING IS SO GOOD!!!!!!! I've finished watching it yesterday and I'm still in awe. Gosh, I love this show.

But before I can talk about the ending, allow me to dedicate a small paragraph to comment on the movie. Originally I thought about making a separate post for the movie, but I don't have much to say about it so I'm adding this extra portion here (thank god I watched the movie before this was posted so I can add this beforehand). This movie is very lackluster, I got excited from the first scenes, watching it in HD and not DVD quality really brings way much more life to the screen and I was pretty impressed, but then Saki and Mai started to fight before their performance and all the joy went down because it immediately started to feel like Friends of the Snow Sky but worse because Saki and Mai were never this "hostile" against each other before so their fight doesn't seem true to their characters especially considering what originated this argument to begin with.

The movie exclusive characters are good, sadly they don't get that much time on screen and they also don't get a lot to do so they're not used to their full potential and they end up being just flat. In fact, I believe this is a good way to describe this movie, interesting concepts that aren't used fully because they wanna focus on this fight that makes no sense and that is something they've already done before. I don't know if this has to do with the weird duration of the movie, it's not even one hour long, or if it's just the script that is weak, but I really didn't enjoy this movie all that much. 😕

But now let's talk about the good stuff, let's talk about the ending of the season.

I have so many feels I don't even know where to begin with. Well to begin with, in the title of this post it says this is a review of episodes 38 to 49 but that's actually a lie since episodes 38 and 39 are just fillers that don't add much so I have nothing to comment on. But from episode 40 onward the show picks itself up and it just goes all out to wrap up this story in a very beautiful, exciting, and emotional way.

I admit I was a bit afraid of how this final stretch would go when I saw that the final Dark Fall general was defeated in episode 40, but they managed to wrap up this ending in a very clever way. Bringing back the defeated generals at first felt like a cheap way to do it, but the fact that the villains weren't back for just a single episode and considering there was no monster of the week, all the fights were against the generals themselves, it really enhanced the experience, it was like in the Mega Man games where you'll fight all the Robot Masters again in one of the Wily stages. It was also great that they came back WAY STRONGER and the girls really had to give their best to win those fights, I especially like that they lost right away when the villains came back because it's not always that we see precure losing so it was great to see just how much more difficult it would be for them to win in the end.

The final twist of Gohyan being the actual final villain wasn't all that much surprising, I mean he's the character who's always plotting something I knew he would betray Akudaikan at some point, and in normal circumstances, I'd wouldn't be pleased with this fake-out, but because Gohyan is a character we've seen since the beginning and he has been active, either plotting against his comrades or actually going against the precure, it worked. I kinda wish they had kept him in his "elderly" form, I think he works better that way, but seeing how great the action was for that final fight I'm more than okay with it.

If I had to say one thing that I completely disliked about this ending it's that, aside of the Christmas episode that once again had the pink try to deal with her feelings for a guy who doesn't look at them on a romantic way, having a four-part ending didn't really feel necessary. I think they could've made it in a way where episodes 46, 47, and 48, where focused in the actual fight, like episode 46 is the raid at Dark Fall, the fight against Akudaikan goes from Part B of 46 and Part A of 47, and then the final battle against Gohyan goes from Part B of 47 and lasts the entirety of episode 48, and then we have episode 49 focused for the aftermath and the epilogue. But that's just a minor thing because they hit the nail in the head in the important stuff so it's all good.

And speaking of action, THEY NAILED IT IN THIS PORTION OF THE STORY. I complained a lot about hoe the fights during the season weren't as good as they could've been, but if they were saving so much just so this ending could be so action-heavy and look so damn good as it was I feel like it was a good trade. Of course, the repeated shots of Bright and (especially) Windy using her powers are still here, but it's incorporated a lot better here and they do some actual creative stuff with it.

But the greatest thing of this finale was seeing Michiru and Kaoru finally being back, again I was reluctant about bringing them back so soon, but they knew what they're doing and they managed to do so much with them in this short amount of time. And I think it only works so well because they did an excellent job with them in their first arc so we as an audience can feel for them and we can also share the feelings Saki and Mai were having because we care about these characters just as much as they do. And I also like that they were brought back and they served a purpose, they weren't just extensions of Saki and Mai, they had their own concerns, they had their own issues so it wasn't like they were there to do just a single thing and they were able to conclude their arcs in a very satisfactory way. They've become really complex characters and I was always excited about seeing them on screen because I knew something great would come out of it every time, that being either them in their fighting scenes or while they were doing mundane stuff like Michiru enjoying helping at Pan Paka Pan or Kaoru spending time with Minori. Kaoru and Michiru's story was everything Kiriya's story wanted to be and more and this is definitely one of the strongest points of this show.

Our protagonists were probably the less worked during this arc, they sort of became an entity rather than two distinctive characters, but it somehow works? I think that because Saki ad Mai are such a great duo, they have so much chemistry, and the show seems to balance pretty well the spotlight they give to each girl, that deciding to focus more on these two as a duo rather than individually doesn't backfire. Their arc is more about solidifying their friendship more and more each time and spreading that out to Kaoru and Michiru, and they do a pretty good job at that. I feel like a lot of people don't have high opinions on them because of that, but I honestly didn't leave the show with the feeling that something was missing in regards to this matter so as far as I'm concerned they're great characters.

Before I wrap up I wanna talk about the ending in specific. It was the perfect pay off that this show needed. After everything Saki, Mai, Kaoru, and Michiru had gone through seeing they fight the big final boss together on an amazing showdown was incredibly awesome, when they lost their powers and the remaining of the spirits still living on Earth gathered together to bring not just Bloom and Egret but also Bright and Windy personified in Kaoru and Michiru felt rewarding as hell. It's pretty sad Kaoru and Michiru aren't considered official Cures because this final battle wouldn't have been the same without them.

If you read my Kamen Rider reviews you know I don't like it when characters come back from the dead immediately after they die. That wasn't the case here, in fact actually cried during that scene. We've said goodbye to them once and it hurt, seeing that they would go disappear again was like having my chest crushed, especially after everything that went down during this final arc and their speech in the fight about not giving up on the future they want to build with Saki and Mai. I knew precure is a kids show so they wouldn't kill them, but I expected they would go back to the Fountain of the Sky to live with Moop and Food there, but the show allowed the girls to stay with their friends in the Land of Greenery and that made me feel all fuzzy and warm inside.

And that montage at the end, with the four together, Kaoru joining Mai in the Art Club so she can learn how to draw so she can spend more time with Minori, Saki teaching Michiru how to bake, gosh, very few things made me as happy as that little montage did. Even seeing that Flappy finally confessed to Choppy and now they're officially a couple I believe was very endearing to see. And this is pretty much why I wanted the epilogue to be it's own separated episode because these are all things I'd love to watch as they were happening. It was still good, don't get me wrong, I have the dumbest smile in my face from just remembering it, but I wish we had more, GIVE ME AN OVA TOEI!!!!!

I'm not sure if I said everything I had to say, a lot of what I enjoyed from Splash Star was how the show touched me with emotional moments centered around characters I've grown to love throughout these 49 episodes and sadly my vocabulary isn't so vast so I can put out all these feelings here without sounding more repetitive than I already do. Splash Star is a really wonderful season, it had a slow start but as soon as they found their identity they really shined brightly, this season definitely shouldn't be so overlooked. So if you never watched it, give it a chance, and if you have watched it already, please do it again, appreciate the show for what it is and spread the love that this season and its characters deserve.

Three seasons of Precure down, thirteen more to go. Thank you so much for reading this far, please share the love for Splash Star in the comments. I'll see you soon for Yes! Pretty Cure 5!

P.S.: I was revising the post and I realized I didn't mention Kintolesky and Shitataare became a couple in the Christmas episode and it makes me really sad that these villains came back to being dust because I'd love to see this relationship. XD Again, GIVE ME AN OVA TOEI (and come up with a dumb excuse for why they're alive like humans and tell us how they've become regulars at Pan Paka Pan and how Kintolesky and Saki's father became the bestest friends ever).

#Futari wa Precure Splash Star #Splash Star #precure

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mrneighbourlove · 5 years ago

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Burnt Heart: Ch 1. The Emperor’s Will

Emperor Zannah Gard Edel tapped her green fingers together in anticipation. Her and Annuciata’s plan to kill the Queen of Danjur’s child donor went off without a hitch. Her elite assassins reported to her of the King to be’s death from a tragic ‘bandit’ attack. The Queen’s official statement was ‘she’d need some time to grieve for her lover’s tragic loss, but thank the stars her baby child was on the way to continue the royal blood line’. Quite the tale to be spun. Her children were ecstatic to learn that they’d have a new sibling on the way. Annuciata’s first visit to the Empire she spoiled them rotten. The twins already considered her a second mother. Now, for the Queen’s second visit to the mainland, she’d bring the fruits of her labour. Quite literally.

Annuciata hated traveling by boat. She preferred her massive Sky Gliders. The machines easily sailed through the air without a care in the world. Bad weather was always a hitch, but luckily there was a safety mechanism for landing and maneuvering through violent storms. It was easy to announce her arrival to the Kikai Empire with a fleet of Sky Gliders in grandeur with flowing banners. Once near the palace, the captain landed the machine and rolled out the 'red carpet' for the queen. She strutted down the walkway with her little one at her side.

"All hail Queen Annuciata and Princess Eleonora!"

The Hasai guards bowed respectfully to the Queen as she walked the red carpet. In return, some advisors announced the arrival of their own leader. “All hail Emperor Zannah! We welcome Queen Annuciata and Princess Eleonora.”

The Emperor smiled graciously to Annuciata as she made her way closer. Both Prince Griffith and Princess Athens stood at their mother’s side, but just behind her. Each was excited to meet their newest sibling, yet respectfully held their tongues. Zannah’s voice was smooth and clear. “Queen Annuciata. Marvellous to see you once more.”

Appearances were important, so for now, Annuciata had to refrain from snogging Zannah within an inch of her life. That, and she had a little one in a sling wrapped around her chest. The little princess was a few months old, and was just a beautiful as her mother. She had dark emerald eyes and blonde hair, and little dimples. With a graceful courtesy, the queen smiled at the three.

"Empress Zannah, Prince Griffith, Princess Athens... it is so good to see all of you again."

“Ah... hello little princess Eleonora.” Zannah peered down with her golden eyes, smiling at the little baby. “Was your trip well Queen Annuciata?”

As they walked through the palace, Zannah’s children were very well behaved in keeping up appearances, despite the wish to explode with excitement.

"The Sky Gliders proved to be less nauseating rather than traveling by Sea Surfers," Annuciata's servant followed closely behind her, carrying her luggage and a cart of gifts. "I do recall you had a rather unpleasant experience of the same manner with one of the Land Riders."

“I prefer the sky myself.” Soon enough, the royals found themselves in Zannah’s guest sweet. “Thank you for carrying Annuciata’s luggage. May you excuse us?”

Once the servants left the guest suite, Annuciata threw her arms around Zannah and kissed her deeply. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

Zannah swirled her tongue with her lovers, one arm carefully reaching to squeeze Annuciata’s ass. “I’ve missed you too as well. My love, your child is adorable darling. She looks so much like you.”

Both the royal twins didn’t mind their moms making out. Once they patiently waited for them to finish, they were glued to their newest sibling.

“May we see here?”

“I always wanted another sister.”

"Did you really think I forgot about you two?" Annuciata bent down and hugged Griffith and Athena tightly and kissed both their cheeks. "Would you like to hold her? This is Eleonora, named after my mother. She was known as the mighty, beautiful lioness of Danjur. She was a captain in the navy before she married my father."

“Mother taught us vigorous lessons on how to hold and take care of a baby.” Athena, sure enough, carefully held Eleonora properly.

Griffith carefully felt her step-sisters hair. “Mothers? Would you like us to take our sister so you might embrace your love?”

"Not before you open your presents," Annuciata led Athena and Griffith over to the elaborately wrapped gifts. Inside of Athena’s was a new wardrobe from Danjur composed of the finest silks. There were flying dragons stitched into the fabric with golden trim and deep red in color. Griffith's present was full of knowledge, containing books of fighting history, tactics of the Danjuran navy, and of course, a single piece of clothing; a brand new robe with designs of ancient Kikai warriors. "I hope you like them. Eleonora was most helpful in selecting the colors. She has good taste, like her mother."

“We love them.” Both twins were happy with all their gifts, speaking in union once more.

Zannah smiled, brushing both their heads. “If you’re careful, you may run along with your new baby sister. Is that alright with you love?”

"Take Eleonora's bag. It has her diapers, blanket, and a few toys." Annuciata reminded them. "You'll have to bring her back in an hour for feeding."

“Understood. We won’t fail your trust.” Griffith bowed, carefully walking out with the baby while Athena took the supplies.

Zannah locked the door behind them, turning to her Queen with a grin. “They were highly excited by the news you were pregnant, insisting they be taught on how to properly care for a baby.”

"That is so cute." Annuciata gushed over what Zannah told her of the twins. "I'm sure they will be the best brother and sister to Eleonora. She will be happy having an amazing pair of siblings to play with her and teach her." She then told her lover. "And of course, I did not forget about you. I brought you a gift as well."

“Oh? Do show your Emperor what you brought my Queen~”

"Unfortunately, not want you're probably hoping for, but something nice still," Annuciata strutted over to the largest present and pulled the ribbon, undoing the bow. The sides of the present fell to reveal a beautiful jade sculpture of Zannah on her throne with a dragon wrapped around her. "Well? Do you like it?"

Zannah threw a hand to her mouth to quiet a gasp. “Annuciata! It’s marvellous! How did you accomplish this feat?! Such a passionate declaration of love.”

"You know I used to study mechanical engineering before I became queen," Annuciata then gestured to the sculpture. "Wasn't too hard to design a machine that would carve the stone exactly how I wished it. I ordered the jade from Al-Daida's mines and then set to work on this myself. It gave me something to do while I was on bedrest."

“... You never cease to surprise me Annuciata.” Zannah pulled her in for slow, deep loving kiss.

"Ah, I'm sorry to disappoint you, my love, but... well... I might have to wait a while longer." Annuciata halted Zannah's kissing. "I would like nothing more than to make love to you, but... I'm still healing." She undid the front of her glamorous dress and gently pulled it down to show Zannah her c-section scar. "Let's just say Eleonora was a little too big for me to deliver."

Zannah’s eyes widened, but no sound of shock left her. Instead, she merely traced a hand along the scar. “I see... I’m merely happy you both survived. You can’t let me simply kiss you? Or am I too much of a tease that way dear?”

"You are a tease, and you know it, don't play coy." Annuciata raised an eyebrow at her lover, knowing how sly Zannah could be. "I wouldn't mind a soft kiss, but unfortunately, I won't be able to make love until one more week. The scar tissue has to heal all the way."

“I understand.” Zannah softly rubbed her lovers belly gently.

A knock came at the door, followed by two more. “Query: May I enter?”

“Annuciata, perhaps you can be part of my council with Tod?”

"Though as soon as Wednesday hits, I'll be happy to have you all to myself." Annuciata winked at Zannah and then when T0-D announced his arrival, the queen inquired, "Council?"

“I have been thinking of a necessary expansion to the Empire. T0-D has led his calculations and opinions, but perhaps another set of human eyes and mind can be of use.”

"An expansion?" Annuciata asked. "Like another island? A factory? I'd be happy to look over the blueprints."

“T0-D, come in.”

The android unlocked the door with his finger acting like a pic lock. “Greetings: Wonderful to see you Queen Annuciata.”

“I already have acquired a new island recently. Quite large in size. Tod, bring up the life forms we’ve brought into our glorious Empire.”

T0-D nodded, and from his eye, a holographic image like a blue shimmering ghost appeared. The first images were rather short humanoids standing at 5.1 on average with monkey like tails, sharp fangs, spiky hair and thick beards on the males. “These are a people know as Dals. Primitive, yet skilled smiths, workers, and have a few excellent fighters. They gladly joined the Empire in exchange for protection from a sea monster that forced their tribes to make sacrifices to its hungry.”

The next image was of a scaly winged beast. They were the size of an average bathroom, so not terribly big. They had legs and wings, yet no arms. “On this island, I am also proud to say we’ve started taming local Wyvern’s. I know they’ll never be the scale or size of Hyrule or Lorliedi’s dragons, but they are making excellent mounts and companions. Great nimble flyers too due to their size and balance. The island is large enough to colonize my people and share recourses with the locals. I’m going to finish a city there soon. What do you think?”

Annuciata carefully looked over the specs for the island. While she was glad Zannah was expanding her empire, there were still a few red flags here and there. The queen pointed to the far side of the isle. "Here are the cliffs," She suggested. "You'd be better to colonize the Wyverns there instead of the inland. They would have a natural vantage point, and probably be happier. Since the Dals are primitive smith workers, they need to be away from the heart of the forest. If it would catch fire, then all your work would be for naught." The Danjuran queen then motioned to a small peninsula on the isle. "And here would be a great area to build a dock for import and exports. You'd need to check the depth of the coral and the surrounding sea life," And for a last point, Annuciata said, "And this area, in the middle of the island, this would be wonderful for development. It's rich with rivers, and most connect to the sea. You could have another city here."

“Thank you. All great points. Tod, log them for my lords to carry out.” Zannah rose up, going to the window to look down at her Empire. “Annuciata. The matter on my mind isn’t more land, but my people. More specifically, my tribes. The Waku in particular.”

"The Waku?" Annuciata thought for a moment and then replied. "Oh, Zizi's husband, Kahli. He's Waku, correct?" She looked momentarily puzzled. "You're going to... give their descendants an island?"

“In a way. But first, I need him to produce more Waku on a grand scale.” Zannah said so matter of fact in a monotone voice with no confusion or stifle of clarity.

"Wait, you want Kahli to be a... donor?" Annuciata wanted clarification.

“I do.”

"Well, that is something you'd have to discuss with him." Annuciata did not look too convinced. "You do realize he's married to Zizi."

“I do. However, Kahli is not a citizen of Hyrule by legal decree. King Covarog does not allow it. He is a citizen of the Kikai Empire, though. What’s more, he has a life debt to me. Hasai must follow the commands of those they are indebted to. It is in our... coding, if you will.” Zannah carefully pick and choose her wordings. “I can’t force Kahli to physically have sex with other Hasai, but I can have him give me samples of his bloodline to disperse to individuals I deem strong to carry a child.”

"I'm... not sure this is the best idea, Zannah." Annuciata was honest with her lover. "If you hurt the sister of the queen, it could cause tension with your alliance. Not only that, but Zizi helped save your island. While I know the two of you don't have the best relationship, she does still consider you a friend."

“This goes beyond simple emotional attachments. This is to rebuild an entire culture. Zarazu would do the same if one of her tribes was reduced to a single finger she could count on her hand. There is already tension due to the boar king. With enough expansion, Hyrule won’t even be a necessary ally should they choose to depart due to foolish pride. If Zizi treated me with more respect, Tod with more respect, then perhaps she would have been included. Instead she thinks she can mock me, mock you behind my back without me knowing. Friend? Bah. Such nonsense.”

"Zannah, Zizi has never mocked me. She respects you; I honestly think she just doesn't like the robot." Annuciata then reminded her lover. "I will not go to war with Hyrule if this idea of yours cause strife. I told you and Queen Zarazu of that notion long ago before we started our relationship."

“No. She fears me. Kahli told me himself. And why? Because I happen to be the most powerful woman in the world? Because I took charge in saving my people?” Zannah scowled, looking out her window. “I don’t plan war with Hyrule over this plan to replenish the Waku tribe from the effects of genocide. Besides, Lord Malik and King Covarog, despite personal feelings, would never break off treaties due to some tantrum Zizi might throw if she ever discovered my architecture in rebuilding life Annuciata.”

"I won't stop you from carrying out your plan, though... I would suggest you not tell Zizi of it. Or have it where Kahli cannot tell her." Annuciata sighed, thinking this would not end well in the future. "She gave your island life because she wanted to do the right thing. Don't make her take it away."

“She knows I could burn what’s left of her precious island home left to ash if she dared try anything so foolish. Besides. She is a life giver, not a destroyer. The little green thumb might take life on a smaller scale as to preserve her own mortality, but she does not have the character to kill hundreds at a whim. But of course, as to give me less of an ear full, she will be kept in the dark.”

"I won't lie to you, love, I don't believe this is the best idea. Retaliation might be due later." Annuciata then placed her hands on Zannah's shoulders. "And even if Zizi fears you, I doubt she would ever try to hurt you. Just please be careful of your plan?"

“I will. The children will be kept on one of the colonized islands, to be raised far from the eye of Hyrule, and Zizi.” Zannah held Annuciata’s hand for support. “Some ideas can change the world for the better. But you have to steel your heart sometimes to make them work.”

"I understand, though... I just don't like hurting people." Annuciata then asked. "Please never let Zizi find out if you're going to do this. A woman scorned, well... hell hath no fury."

“Well, then Zizi would be far behind. My fury has burned brightly for years.”

Zannah turned to T0-D, tilting her head with a light sigh. “Tod. Go tell Kahli to come to the imperial palace.”

“Confirmation: As you wish master.”

Zannah started to disrobe, looking for her more powerful, armour attire. “Kahli and Zizi are actually here at the island on vacation. This no time like the present as they say.

"I still think this is a bad idea... just be careful, Zannah. While you have much fury yourself, Zizi is the earth sage." Annuciata kissed the Empress' cheek. "While fire can burn plants, earth can smother a fire." She then picked up the edges of dress. "I'm going to check on Eleonora. My breasts are about to burst. I'll see you in a bit?"

And her lightning would strike down like fury from god herself to make a final killing blow. “So soon? But the children just left. You sure?”

"I think it's just nerves, my love. I still don't like to be away from Eleonora for too long." Annuciata was honest with the Empress. "I trust Athena and Griffith with her, though it's like... this sense that I have. I have to see her and check on her or else, I feel unease. I suppose it's part of being a new mother."

Zannah smiled lightly, giving Annuciata a nod and kiss, now fully naked to the Queen mid dressing. “I understand that feeling well. Go see your daughter.”

"I'll return shortly." And before she exited the room, she made sure to give Zannah a harsh slap on the buttocks. "And that was for being a tease earlier." With that she strutted out of the bedroom.

Zannah growled lovingly back as the Queen made her way out with T0-D. Once alone with her own thoughts, however, she felt a bitter cold in her heart. The choices she’d come to shortly make would kill any chance of continued friendships... not that she ever has had true friends. Allies, advisors, rivals, enemies, a lover, family, but never friends. For the Empire, she would steel her heart and mind.

T0-D was rather quick in arriving at Kahli’s get away home. Only took an hour to sprint to the West side of the island. With a knock, he awaited compliance. “Statement: Kahli. Are you home? The Emperor requires your private attention.”

"You are being very naughty, you beast," Zizi giggled as Kahli kept kissing down her throat while she was trying her best to fix a cake. Yet, her husband, between nibbles on her neck, kept stealing cake batter. The two of them were celebrating Zarazu's latest gift to them; Hylian citizenship for Kahli. Her sister finally was able to convince Covarog to pull his head out of his ass and sign the official statement. "You have two sons, and three daughters, are you asking for another child---EEEK!" She jumped when he pinched her backside. "Okay, let's continue this in the bedroom---" And of course, there was an interruption. Her least favorite interruption from her least favorite mechanical nuisance. "No, he's not." she replied in an annoyed tone from inside the house. "Go away."

“Observation: I know you’re about to have sex. Your meat bag ritual can wait.”

Kahli had been cautious of his duel citizenship, not knowing how much validity it held. But the look he gave Covarog and him a geeky, yet meekly giving one of defeat in return was incredibly satisfying to relish. Perhaps Covarog’s unseen emotional blowout was the reason Zizi pushed for a vacation out to the Kikai Empire. At the Android’s interruption, Kahli sighed as well. “My dear Emperor can wait a little while, can she not?”

“Annoyance: An order is an order Kahli.”

The Waku walked to the door, getting his shoes tied.

"You'll come back as soon as you're done, right?" Zizi walked to the door with her husband. "Zarazu offered to look after our children until we return in a few days. Until then, I'd love to have you all to myself." She purred at Kahli, giving him a deep smooch on the lips. "Don't keep me waiting long."

“Of course, my dear. I’ll be back in a flash, so the expression goes.”

T0-D looked around inside the house, curious about their living arrangements. To be honest, he wasn’t impressed. “Assistance: Would you care for help with your baking, Zizi Slatki?”

"...? You? Bake?" Zizi wondered what foolish notion this was. She personally did not care for the robot. Yet, today, she was in a good mood. She supposed she could tolerate his company while Zannah spoke to Kahli. "Very well. If you'd like to help, I'm not going to turn down assistance. At least you won't eat all my batter like he does." She waved goodbye to Kahli. "Come on, you can help mix."

“Statement: Oh honey. I can do much more than mix.”

"Honey? Using pet names now? ... I'd ask if your wiring was messed up because this sounds too good to be true." Zizi motioned for Zizi to follow her over to the kitchen. "I don't suppose you know Zannah's favorite? Or Annuciata's? I heard that she was visiting and wanted to do something nice for them. Annuciata just had Eleonora a couple months ago, and a new baby is always cause to celebrate."

Kahli's journey to the imperial palace was about two and half an hours by horse, maneuvering his way through mountainous jungle path to reach the central territory. The Imperial Capital was a gigantic walled city now with its construction completed. Inside citizens of the Empire did industrial work, went to academies for learning, or trained in military drills. The Imperial Palace itself was a massive mansion, the size of two dozen city blocks in area sitting atop the mountain top with its own walls and gates present. By now, Kahli knew where to journey. Arriving at the throne room, Zannah awaited Kahli, giving him a smile. He in turn bowed respectfully. "My Emperor."

The Emperor sate on her silver throne, looking down at all who approached her. "Rise Kahli. I trust you and your wife are well."

"We are Emperor Zannah."

"Good. We won't waste one another's time, as I know trek amongst the island can be long on foot. I have summoned you here to give you a glorious task. The repopulation of the Waku tribes."

Kahli's eyes widened, surprise and shock being rare to him. Quickly, he narrowed his gaze, unsure how she would accomplish such a feat. "Zannah, I am all I know of my people left."

"I am acutely aware." She shot a pointer finger at him with the speed and intensity of an arrow. "You Kahli. You will repopulate them."

That surprised the man greatly. Kahli shook his head, even growling back at Zannah. "I have a wife."

"Kahli. We must all make sacrifices in service of the Empire. I made the sacrifice of my body to carry my children for the sake to carry on the royal line. You think you better than your Emperor?”

He shook his head once again, not meaning to be insulting. "No. I never did. But I can't do this thing. My bond to Zizi is the same bond you share with Annuciata. I cannot lay my hands on another woman." Turning to leave, he shook his head to cast away his inner disgust at the thought. Having his people back was something he never cared for. The dead could stay dead. "I can't do it."

"Kahli Slatki! Do you forget the life debt you owe me?" Zannah's words cut Kahli's departure clean in half, freezing his feet to the floor. "I spared your life when you came to kill me. In return, because of my generosity I allowed you to met Zizi. It was my will that allowed you to find love. It was my design that gave you the power of Exodrum. Now turn around, and take your place. Now."

She spoke to him in a low, scolding voice, lightly pointing her finger for him to take his place. A psychological command, a mental force in Kahli's soul compelled him to obey. Kahli turned around, his fingers squeezing into his palms, nearly bleeding them with his nails. "I cannot physically touch another woman Emperor. The mental strain alone-"

"Will be bypassed altogether. Kahli, you will simply provide the seed. I have planned this well." Their golden eyes stared one another down, a mental battle taking place between them. "Do you know what they did to me? Once I was forced to select a mate, doctors took a turkey baster, a turkey baster of all things, and they forcibly injected me. You see, we lacked proper medical equipment during the first decade after the war. I had to carry two children, children that nearly killed me at child birth, all for the sake of tradition. All you will need to do is be a provider of a sample."

"What then?" Kahli's chest felt heavy, his mind numbing him from lashing out or running away. A life debt was a part of honour, and honour was practically coded into the DNA of Hasai. He was compelled to hear her out.

"What then? You will have the benefit of never seeing the children. I know this necessary act would never fly with your stubbornly emotional wife."

"You would break her trust?"

"But not yours. Tell me Kahli? Am I breaking any code of ethics you hold? Any honour? Do you fail to see the significance of this project?"

Kahli searched deep, wanting to spit the most vile bile at her. Yet all he found was the truth. "No..."

"As an order, you will never reveal this project to any other living soul, let alone your wife. This is the command of your Emperor."

"I will obey." The most defiance Kahli held was a small, weak growl.

"Kahli. You are my subject. You are the future of the Hasai people within the Empire. Waku, Skorge, and all others in unity. Imagine that future. A tribe that could once again fuel the might of the Empire by giving it its spirit back. This is your role in the Empire Kahli. The resurrector. Not the killer."

Zannah truly believed her cause was just, and Kahli somehow knew she wasn't doing this out of spite, or pure cruelty. He sighed, already feeling the burden of keeping this secret from his wife even before he began. "How long must I do this?"

"Your life debt will be repaid when you help give birth to 1,579 new Waku." Kahli stared at her stunned, but Zannah simply continued. "Those are the amount of lives that were left when you came to assassinate me in the Empire. 1579 lives that'd been thrown to chaos and perished without my leadership. Once that task has been complete, you will have no further obligations to me, except to fight for the Empire in times of war."

"Zannah, that will take years. I can't-"

"You will. Or perhaps you will consider giving me all of your children once they reach the age of fifteen?"

"No! Anything but that!"

Zannah nodded, raising a palm for Kahli to be still. "Then you will comply. Your offspring will be taken to the colony islands where you and Zizi will never have to worry about them. Now, you will begin the process immediately, Kahli Slatki. I am sorry if this brings you any distress. I truly am. But this is for the greater good of the Kikai Empire."

A doctor in a white mask made herself know. With the rest of her medical equipment, Kahli couldn't tell what tribe she hailed from.

"This is Doctor Mercellus. She is one of five who will know the true origin of this plan. Accompany her, and by the time you are done, I will have invited Zizi over for a dinner."

"Yes, Emperor Zannah..." Kahli could barely remember what came next. He followed the doctor in a mental haze, arriving to a medical facility. She left, telling him to drop his pants and to fill the vials best he could. Next thing he knew he felt Zizi shaking his arm as they were in the palace dining hall. "What?"

"Kahli?" Zizi looked concerned. Her husband had been out of it since she arrived at the palace. There had been word sent to their home that Kahli would be occupied longer than usual. She figured it was paperwork or something tedious of the sort. "Are you sure you feel all right?" She put her hand on his forehead. He felt... clammy. "Are you feeling ill?" She whispered to him. "We don't have to stay for dinner if you don't feel up to it."

"Huh? Oh... No, I'm fine. The journey here and all the running around took me out of it for a moment." Kahli smiled, sounding like his normal self. A little dark, but honest.

"...? If you say so." Zizi still sounded worried.

"It's been quite a day for all of us," Annuciata spoke as she sipped on water, not drinking wine or fancy alcoholic beverages since she was still breastfeeding. "If you need to retire, we understand, don't we, Empress?" She turned to her lover. "After all, you know about how it is nice to have a break from the usual everyday life."

Zannah looked to Zizi, raising an eyebrow as she bit into a cookie. "You and Tod truly made these?"

"Conformation: I amazed the little Zemlja. Together, the kitchen was no match for our combined skill." Was the first time he called her by her tribe title, not opting for meatbag.

"He's actually pretty good at being an amazing helper in the kitchen. Though I told him we really didn't have to count how many chocolate chips were in a pound, but he insisted." Zizi told the Empress with a wide smile. "Who knew? Baking helped us turn over a new leaf. He's not too bad. I guess he views me as I view him. Tolerable. Right, Tod?"

"These are a delight, mmm." Annuciata nibbled on a cookie. "You should go open a bakery together."

Kahli stared at the cookie for a while. The look he received when he glanced at Zannah told him to enjoy his life. That this changed nothing between any of them. He nodded, taking a bite. "Hmmm. Incredible my dear."

"Too bad you can't eat of these." Zizi noted. "Makes me feel a bit guilty that you put in all the work and can't enjoy the outcome."

"At least you enjoyed making them?" Annuciata asked the robot. "You do feel 'joy', right?"

T0-D looked down to Zizi, his fingers tapping together in contemplation. There was suddenly a part of him that regretted making sure she stayed put at her home. It took only an instant to calculate his feelings. He was allowed to regret it, but for Zannah's vision, he'd do anything required. "Statement: You've never felt bad before for me. No need to start now. I feel joy in knowing that you enjoy the pleasantries of food."

"At least you two have called a truce." Annuciata remarked. "That's for the best."

"Like I said, he's more so tolerable now. Must be because Kahli and I have five children that can drive us up the wall sometimes." Zizi laughed. "But we do love them so much. Manaco, Ahusaka, Keira, Urboro, and Miku are all growing so fast. They'll be fine men and women one day. Just like your little Eleonora."

"She's already demanding." Annuciata mused. "Squeals when it's time for feeding or cries when she doesn't get her way."

Zannah chuckled, drinking mango juice to be fair to her lover. "I don't know if I'll ever have more children myself."

"Kahli has always wanted a big family, so we'll see if we have anymore." Zizi held her husband's hand. "Though the most important thing is that we are happy."

"Of course, my dear. You are my treasure." But after today, the weight of how many children Kahli would have weighed with the force of a sleeping giant on his mind. One that he wondered would ever awake to cause tragedy.

________________________________________________________________

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/611234309094948864/burnt-heart-ch-2-trust-thunderstruck

Co-Written with @ridersoftheapocalypse. Written for @s-kinnaly and all you passionate readers.

#Crossover #ridersoftheapocalypse #triggers for infidelity #D.R.A.M.A #Kahli #Emperor Zannah #zannah #Annuciata #Zizi #Hasai #Waku #T0-D

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raging-violets · 5 years ago

Note

Everybody can tell they’re in love except the people in question (9) for Edmund and Issi?

Narnia: Everyone Can Tell But Them // Prompt // Edmund x Issi

A/N: Under a “read more” due to length.

[ Number/Ship Rom-Com | Ask Box ]

Peter knew when Edmund turned down medical help at the castle.

“We’re already out here,” Edmund explained to Peter’s incredulous look, “let’s just go into town. Issi will patch me up faster than we can say ‘Aslan.’” Peter lifted an eyebrow. Edmund shrugged. “It will be quick, and we haven’t done our royal duties and checked in with everyone in a spell.”

Peter held his brother’s gaze for a silent moment before he turned away to face the castle in the distance. Miming deep thought. Trying to hold back the knowing laugh that bubbled up in his chest. His horse shifted a few steps and Peter swayed along to the movement. “We’ll be back there in no time,” he said, “besides, you Fuddy-Duddy, Lucy gave you her healing cordial.” His lips pulled back into a hint of a smile when Edmund’s nostrils flared in frustration.

“Fuddy-Duddy,” Edmund repeated, eyes briefly flashing with challenge, “I used to be older here. So, that would make you…”

“Watch it,” Peter warned.

A hint of a smirk sat on Edmund’s face for a moment. Then it was gone, traded for thoughtfulness. A look Peter had seen more often, lately. Edmund certainly had grown up, shedding his outward

A muscle in Edmund’s jaw twitched. Pulling his gaze from the castle, Edmund briefly glanced into the direction of the castle town, before looking back at his brother. Peter blinked innocently at him. A moment later, Edmund’s frustration had cleared, and he angled his own horse towards town.

“We should really save that just in case, Pete, don’t you think?” He was talking quickly. Peter realized he had already made up his mind.

“I’m sure Lu won’t mind.” Peter had said it lightly. He knew for a fact that Lucy wouldn’t mind. This was just too funny. His brother would find any excuse to go see Issi. This time, he just needed a logical reason that Peter would accept. And he’s doing a good job of it, Peter could admit. He was just risking Lucy’s admonishment of teasing Edmund. After all, she was finally old enough to understand, and to start forming her own opinions on the idea of romance. And she was a big supporter of it.

“Come on, Pete!”

Peter watched Edmund take off across the grass before he was swallowed by the shadows of the forest. Finally, finally he allowed himself to break from his royal airs and laugh out loud. “Why can’t you just do as you’re told?” He had said this with a smile, shaking his head back and forth.

Not to tease young Edmund, though he had many clever quips primed in his mind, but in amusement. Edmund wasn’t even that injured, a nick on his shoulder that may or may not require stitches, and yet he was insistent on medical attention. The best could be acquired at the castle. That of which he had turned down in favor of visiting the castle town’s herbalist, and their friend, Issi.

It wasn’t too long ago that Edmund had the audacity to turn his nose up or curl his lip at just the thought of having any suitors around the castle for Susan. This, of course, was broken up by the laughter he and Lucy shared at her expense. May Aslan show mercy, however, to anyone who would bring up the suggestion that one day soon, he would be the one with suitors travelling far just to meet and potentially match with himself. Then he would grow silent. Thoughtful.

He had been doing that more often: thinking. His impulsive nature had waned as he matured. Most suggestions and notion backed up with an obvious care to his words and reasonings behind his choice. It still appeared in shades; he was just as confident as he was on a horseback as he was with a sword and would let everyone know it when he wanted. Though it was this quieter, I person that had stuck around more after he had spent time with Issi.

For she could challenge Edmund on his deep-rooted self-deprecation, just as well as she would open her ear and herself to carry the burden he held on his shoulders. Jadis was alive and well in Issi’s life as well – manipulating her and feeding off her own insecurities in an attempt to use her physical form as a vessel to return to Narnia. Edmund had truly found someone who understood the residual guilt that was left behind from being coerced – he’d argue, easily – by such dark uses of magic.

Peter was not surprised to find Edmund wanted to spend time with her when he could. At first, maybe. Now, it just made sense. He supposed that Edmund was thinking in this moment. Thinking about seeing the one person that saw her own mistakes in him, but never held it over his head, or allowed him to dwell on them for too long. Thinking about seeing the person who could wound his ego with her words just as easily as she could soothe any ache or pain with the right mixture of berries and leaves.

And, Peter supposed, gently guiding his horse forward with a well-placed nudge of his knees, soothe an aching heart. Hair flying past his face, Peter leaned into the wind that whistled past his ear as he pushed himself faster, faster, even faster still through the brush. Trying to catch his brother, all the same not trying too hard - lest he be roped into a competition to see who the better, faster horseback rider was. Lest he have to ride back with a gloomy, and sulking Edmund.

The muffled hoof falls turned into an ear-drawing clip clop as he burst out of the trees and onto the main road that snaked through the castle town. Peter graced the Telmarines with a smile, nodding his head in response to the waves and bright greetings the townsfolk threw in his direction. With a pull of his reigns, he slowed his horse to a slow walk, pulling it alongside Edmund’s just outside a stone alcove.

“High King Peter.” Issi gathered handfuls of her dress into her hands to curtsey in his direction. Upon dropping the folds, the faint smell of smoke wafted in the air. The heavier cloth creating the sleeveless tunic dress Issi wore the skirts brushed with dirt and streaks of green grass; a stark contrast to the finest Narnian textiles that graced the clothes Peter and Edmund adorned at the moment, clean, and measured to their bodice. “What a delight it is to have the two Kings of Narnia grace my presence today.”

She had said it sincerely, Peter knew her well enough to know that, but still there was a glint in her eye. A hidden mischievousness in her smile. One that Edmund noticed, recognized as his own, and earned a snicker from him.

“Hello, Issi,” Peter said, ignoring Edmund’s laugh. “I hope Edmund hasn’t interrupted any intentions you had for the day.” He angled his head towards the basket of wash, sitting just outside the alcove.

“Don’t you even worry a lick about that, your majesty,” Issi said, waving a hand in the air. “It is but a scratch, but I am happy to tend so that you can get back up to the castle in one piece.” Her lips parted into a smile. “I suppose the two of you had a right go at it, eh? Men playing sport indeed. Won’t stop until one comes out on top.”

“Of course,” Peter said, “Ed still has a lot to learn to wield Rhindon accurately.”

“I handled myself fairly well, I think,” Edmund protested, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. His eyes darted briefly around the small, stone room. Peter clicked his tongue, gaze flickering towards the wound on his shoulder. Edmund lifted his hand and gently touched the wound, wincing slightly at the sight of blood on his fingers. “I lost my balance is all.” He then said quietly to himself, “How could I be so stupid?”

“With great practice,” Issi said with a mocking sigh, eyes glittering, “everything is possible, I suppose.”

Peter felt a bubble of laughter lift in his chest. A response worthy as one of his own. A small chortle slipped out until, at Edmund’s glower, he pressed his lipstightly together. Issi, on the other hand, continued her boisterous laugh. Edmund managed to crack a smile.

All in all, Peter was glad Edmund has someone to talk to at least.

Susan knew when Edmund…lost a chess match.

Or rather, had been distracted during one, which resulted in his loss. Susan carefully gripped two pieces from the chess board between her long fingers, trading out Edmund’s captured piece with one of her own. Adding it to the steadily growing line of discarded black chess pieces, Susan waited for Edmund to take his turn.

“What do you think Issi needs to talk to Peter about?”

It was a simple question. Yet still a question that drew Susan’s attention. Her dark ringlets brushing over the curve of her shoulder as she ventured a look. Just past the bay window of the library, Issi slowly strolled the A question that, she noticed, had pulled his attention from the game.

The calculated look she would usually find on his face was not direction at the chess board. Not currently, though it had been a moment before. Susan sighed and decided to take this time to think about her next move - usually a futile decision, Edmund was always three steps ahead. This time, though, his attention hadn’t always been on the game.

“To give him an update on her patrol this morning, I suppose,” Susan replied.

“Something she should be explaining to all of us,” Edmund said, his fist propping up his cheek. “Not just Peter.”

“True.” Susan lifted her eyebrows. Cleared her throat.

“Are you coming down with something, Susan?” Edmund asked. Still, his gaze was settled on the window. At least until Susan landed a kick to his shin. “Ow!” Cheeks puffing, Edmund turned his dark gaze to his sister. “That wasn’t very gentle, Su.”

“It’s not polite to make a lady wait, Edmund,” Susan said in a light tone. And a pointed stare. “It’s your turn.”

“Sorry.” Edmund set his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together. His brows came together as he looked over the board. There wasn’t a lot of turns left for either of them, Susan surmised, but that had never stopped Edmund before. He was the voice behind the words of official decrees as it was. Weighing every option before concluding what could not only help themselves, but aid in peaceful ties with countries to the West, East, and South. “Let me think for a minute.”

“Of course.” Susan understood the importance of thinking. Maybe herself and Edmund more so than Peter and Lucy.

Aw, Lucy; always eager to jump into the next thing that came their way. The one who believed in Narnia and Aslan the most. Peter was nowhere near as outwardly rambunctious but was just as loyal to the title, and the land of Narnia, that Aslan had bestowed upon him. They both would do whatever it took to keep the land, and it’s people safe. For now and forever – to make up for what they had abandoned years ago. She and Edmund on the other hand, grew to be more critical thinkers. Susan was all about logic and thinking about the picture, how one decision would dictate what could occur in the future. Edmund was the same to an extent, though more of the type to wish to hear all sides to a problem before deciding. Though, whichever decision he came to, he fully put himself into.

Though, if he were truly putting all of himself into this chess match, Susan would have been defeated ages ago. It’s your own fault, she reminded herself, you agreed to play against him after helped you sharpen your arrows. He had complained every time he accidentally nicked himself with the ends. But if he could take the time and care to clean his own sword, she had reminded him, then he could handle helping her.

“A sword has one blade,” Edmund reminded her with a grumble, shaking the sting out of his finger, “you have so many arrows.”

Now, Susan felt like complaining – knowing it was unbecoming of her. Edmund was a serious chess player, but he was still taking way too long to move one piece. Even for him.

“Pete will tell us what she told him.”

Susan blinked. Was he reminding himself? Reassuring? Certainly, Issi would have a reason to converse with Peter outside of her appointed Narnian duties. Or did Edmund feel like that was something only they shared? True, Issi and herself weren’t the best of friends, but a mutual respect of their hierarchy in Narnia was well known between the two of them. There were times Susan could be just as open and relaxed with her at times, but also knew when to keep a separation between them as well. She couldn’t imagine how hard that may have been for Edmund; for someone who didn’t realize their strong feelings. Or acknowledge them as the case may be.

Edmund pressed his mouth to the side of his hands, and Susan watched the movement closely. He stared so hard at the pieces laid out in front of him, Susan started to wonder if he realized they were actually there in front of him…and not out the bay window. Which was exactly where his eyes kept shifting towards every few minutes.

“I’m sure he will,” Susan said, “if it’s important.”

“What else would they need to talk about?” Edmund asked, giving Susan a weird look. Before she answered, his gaze was out the window again.

Susan shifted in her seat to look out the window once more, catching the face Issi made when Peter’s back was turned. Even Susan nearly had trouble turning her full-blown laughter into a polite chuckle. Edmund seemed to press his mouth harder into the side of his hands, though the crinkling of his eyelids and the sudden lightening of his dark eyes gave away the smile he was trying to hide.

“Ed!”

Shooting Susan an annoyed look, Edmund reached for a rook and slid it across the board, capturing one of Susan’s remaining pawns. Moving slowly, checking to see if Edmund had in fact taken that move, and, symbolically, used her Queen to finish the game. “Checkmate.”

“What?” Edmund blinked in surprise. Repeatedly. His eyebrows pulled towards each other. A frown pulled his lips downwards and he scanned over the board. “What?”

“I suppose,” Susan said with a sigh, settling back in her seat, “you just got distracted.” She smoothed the skirts of her dress with her hands before clasping them in her lap. All with a smile.

“No,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I wasn’t distracted.” Susan noticed they paused for a fraction of a second in the direction of the window. Again. Her smile widened. “Don’t get fired up, Su, this won’t happen again.”

Susan tilted her head slightly, giving Edmund a patient smile, “I’m sure it won’t.”

Lucy noticed when Edmund forgot about her.

Arms crossed over her chest she waited, bracing herself against the slope of the underside of the bridge – trying to hide as much of herself as possible. It wasn’t one of the easiest places to reach, but closest to the castle grounds that Edmund was bound to start looking for her there. If he were smart.

And he was. He was a strategic person, after all.

And you thought Professor Kirke’s country home was the greatest place to play hide and seek, Lucy thought to herself with a little giggle. If it wasn’t for an afternoon of boredom, she never would have found Narnia, and they never would have fulfilled the prophecy they unknowingly had placed upon them.

Closing her eyes, Lucy let out a sigh of content. Narnia was almost indescribable. The most beautiful landscapes. The most majestic creatures. And she was lucky enough to experience it all with her own two eyes. How she missed it in the year they had been gone. Drawing pictures didn’t do Narnia justice; you couldn’t accurately describe how breathtaking it was. Sharing memories of a time where she was older than her current age was odd yet had a wistful feel to it. Like she was looking back on the greatest dream she ever had. A dream that, as she moved on in her “real life” seemed to slip further and further away from her.

Such as her patience in that moment.

“Edmund,” she huffed. “Where are you?” The castle grounds were more expansive than she could ever imagine. At this point, they knew it like the back of their hands. And Edmund knew her. It shouldn’t take so long for him to find her.

Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time for him to give up and wait for her to come to him, either. But she was older now. She knew better. Well, she had learned after the fifth time he had tricked her into getting “out” faster than she realized. Only with a pout and a well-timed stomp of the foot would Peter and Susan convince Edmund to not only play fair, but to let her back in the game.

Only now, she wanted the game to be over. It was boring waiting to be found. And the smell of the murky water was starting to get to her. Gathering her dress in her hands, Lucy carefully stepped out from her hiding spot, and back into the fresh air. She allowed the breeze to gently over her face, squashing her frustration for a moment.

“Edmund!” she shouted, her voice carrying over the grounds. “Edmund, I’ve been waiting!”

Silence.

At a quick pace, Lucy headed further into the main entrance of the castle, calling as she went. Getting no response, she turned right around, passed through a battlement, and peered over the edge of the rampart. Her frustration quickly flowed away, replaced by a certain giddiness. She clasped her hands together at the sight of Edmund and Issi strolling side-by-side through the lush grass of the bailey.

From her distance, she couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the conversation seemed to be flowing easily. Just the fact that he was talking to any girl, without a grimace, and without the outside circumstances of visits from neighboring royal families was a good sign. His easy-going smile was another. The slow pace in which they moved, the cherry on top.

All things she had witnessed with the men from home, attempting to woo the object of their desires and even in Narnia with those who were granted permission to a solo walk around the grounds. Lucy squinted, leaning forward even further. Was he even – could he be – yes! Edmund had one hand situated behind his back, the other gesturing as he spoke.

Clapping her hands together, she hurried towards the two with light steps. Of course, she wanted to know everything they were discussing, and how could she report back to Peter and Susan if she didn’t have as much information as possible?

“Would you like an escort home?” she heard him asking as she neared. “’It’s getting late, you know.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. If the sun barely cresting the tops of the trees meant anything. Yes, then, of course, it was late. “Edmund,” she called, planting her hands on her hips as she strode over to the two.

Edmund briefly closed his eyes before turning towards Lucy. “Yes?” he asked.

“Hide and seek?” Lucy lifted her eyebrows, trying to put her previous frustration back into her voice. It was oh, so hard to do when she just wanted to smile. “You were supposed to look for me. Hi, Issi.”

“Hello, Lucy.” Issi bowed her head, bending slightly at the knee in a bow. “It’s lovely to see you.” She cast a sidelong glance at Edmund. “You must have been hidden very well so that Edmund had no choice but to give up.”

“He would never have found me,” she said. She reached up a hand and brushed her hair behind her ear. “I see that he had no problem finding you.” Lucy faced Edmund as she talked, and she relished in his sudden rapid blinking. She almost missed the twitch of a smile on Issi’s face. Almost.

“Reckon it’s the red hair,” Issi commented, shaking back her red curls. She then reached out a hand and gently touched Lucy’s. “We’ve got a fire inside that matches that of our manes, yes?”

“Yes,” Lucy happily agreed. She closed one eye, miming pulling back on a bow. “You’d be surprised at how well I can handle myself.”

“I don’t doubt it, your highness. Not even for a minute.”

“So, you’d probably need me to protect you on your way back home,” Lucy continued with a sly smile. She rolled her shoulders back. “No one would dare threaten the King and Queen of Narnia.”

“You know Peter doesn’t want you wandering too far outside of the castle,” Edmund said to her.

“I’m just ensuring Issi’s safe travels home,” Lucy said, widening her eyes. “You forgot the rules to Hide and Seek. It would be absolutely dreadful if you got lost along the way.” Edmund closed his eyes, pressing his lips together. Issi laughed behind her hand.

“I have an excellent sense direction, Lu,” Edmund said, tightly. He turned to Issi, placing a hand

“I know we will,” Issi reassured him. She reached into the bag that hung off her shoulder and motioned to the rolled up pieces of parchment inside. “I’ve scouted this whole area, know it like that back of my hand, I do.”

“I’ll let Peter know when to expect you back,” Lucy said. “Shouldn’t take you long. Maybe twenty minutes or so.” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “Half an hour, maybe. If you take the path ‘round the creek, I reckon. Issi have you seen that yet?”

Lucy turned on her heels, smiling to herself (Edmund muttered an “Um, thanks,” to her back). It was a short trip. The extra ten minutes was bound to give them plenty of time alone together, away from prying eyes. Unfortunately, that included hers.

Edmund wasn’t sure.

He was a king of Narnia. She was just accepting the wishes of a king. That was all. Of course she would accept his request for conversation. Of course she would allow him to escort her while on the castle grounds.

She’s just being nice, he would remind himself whenever she allowed him to open up about his past with the White Witch. As slowly as it had taken him to do so. As hard as it was to talk about. It was natural for her to reciprocate, he was the only other person that understood the Still, she never once made him feel like he had to be ashamed for what he had done.

She could just make him feel…different. In a good way. Stronger. Important. Funny.

Though, she had a knack for making him the butt of her jokes – only in the present company of the other Pevensies, of course. He was a king. She was townsfolk. It wasn’t right to speak so commonly with that of such high order. “If you defeat me,” he had said to Peter one afternoon with a flourish of his sword, “then I will give you a piece of my mind.”

“Careful, Edmund,” Issi had responded, sitting in the grass with Lucy and Susan, “we’re already so worried about what little would be left.” He found himself laughing along with everyone else, but still found himself stunned. If not, dare he say, impressed.

Over time he had grown to learn that Issi had a hardened soul, but a gentle spirit. She wished to help anyone that needed it – including the spirits that sought her out for help from the next life. Including the witch that had used her caring nature to their advantage. Despite her fear, and one wish, that her father’s spirit would one day reach her, and she could stay in touch with him.

Despite her past, and present, experiences with the manipulating magic of the White Witch, he trusted her. He felt a sense of peace around her. A familiarity he didn’t even feel with his brother and sisters – and they all had Narnia in common. It didn’t need to be said out loud. It was a quiet understanding. He understood that no matter what, her opinion of him could not be swayed.

He was Edmund. “Just Edmund” as she would occasionally refer to him.

Just.

Just friends.

He was just being nice. Just being a gentleman when he escorted her home, or offered his travel cloak when it rained. Just being a ruler who cared about his people when he offered to teach her how to handle a sword. Just being a man of the people by giving her his, seemingly, undivided attention.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

#ocappreciation #anonymous #answered ask #ask #oc: issi winters #edmund pevensie #edmund x issi #the chronicles of narnia #narnia oc #authored by: rhuben #phew #this turned out to be a lot longer than I intended #but i still love it

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creator-zee · 5 years ago

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I stood stock still as the saddle was thrown on my back. Ugh Jake was such an idiot. If he had to ever ride an actual horse not a shifter he would be doomed. I resisted the urge to shy to the side as he tried again and tossed the saddle on my back. It was only halfway on and slipping off my side.

He continued struggling until her finally gave up putting the saddle back on the rack. “Groom! Get your sorry ass in here and saddle my horse.”

Anger grew but I suppressed it. I was his horse after all. I was his shifter. I was his slave. A small boy darted around the corner. I recognized the brand on his shoulder. Another shifter then, another slave. He easily slid the saddle pad then saddle on my back. He tightened the girth, before grabbing the bridle. He accepted the bit easily as he slid it over my ears fastening the throat latch.

He turned and bowed to our master. “Your horse, sir.”

Jake didn’t bother thanking him as he roughly grabbed the reins from the boys hands and tugged on them unnecessarily hard. I would have followed anyways. I didn’t have much of a choice. Once outside of the stable he stumbled as he struggled to get one foot in the stirrup. Then he roughly swung onto my back, into the saddle, before kicking me with excess force to get me going. I moved into a wall and then a trot and then a canter as he continued kicking me. I ended up breaking into a full on gallop as we reached the forest trail.

It was hard to enjoy getting to stretch my legs with Jake bouncing around on my back like an idiot. We reached a clearing, and he tugged back hard on my reins. I slowed down a cane to a halt despite his constant yanking on my head. If I had stopped right away he would have been flung off. As I stopped several other horses came I to view. No brand, so actual horses. Their riders were much more skilled. I could tell from their delicate movements that guided their horses.

The one mounted on the chestnut horse called out as his horse shifted in place never standing quite still. “Still on the shifter, Jay? When will you ever learn to ride properly?”

I could feel Jake tense as he tightened his grip on the reins. “I can ride. Better than you. You can’t even get your horse to stop.”

The other rider, mounted on a black mare, laughed. “You can’t even saddle a shifter Jake. At least we can take care of our own horses.”

“Hey I can take of a horse, and ride a real one.”

The rider of the mare snorted. “Alright, lets trade then. Come ride Betty. She’s a good mare, should be easy.”

Jake swung off me catching his foot in the stirrup, stumbling and pulling the saddle with him. It slipped off my back and down my side. He finally got his foot loose and stood to his feet brushing himself off. While Jake was making a fool of himself, his friend who was a fairly fit dude with shaggy brown hair handed the mares’ reins to the other guy.

“Gonna fix that saddle Jay?”

“Uh, Yeah, duh.” He stuttered. He moved and heaved pushing the saddle back on my back. He pulled on the girth but barely tightened it.

His friend pushed him to the side. “Just go get on Betty.” Jake walked over to Betty, while his friend properly fixed my saddle. His friend swung easily up into my saddle.

Jake grabbed the reins from his other friend and led Betty away from the other horses. He put his foot in the stirrup and swung up. Betty shifted under his weight and he gripped tightly causing her to start forward. He ferociously yanked back on the reins and she began backing up.

He kicked her and she started going forwards again. “Stop already you stupid animal.”

His friend on my back guided me over next to Betty and he reached over and grabbed the reins pulling back gently. “Settle down Jay or she’ll spook.”

Jake finally settled in the saddle and took the reins back. “I’m fine Kismet. I got this.”

Kismet guided me back to the trail and urged me into a trot. “Come on Hande, Jay. Let’s go. I heard Jenna and some other chicks will be up at the waterfall swimming.”

Hande brought his horse beside me. “Ah yes, sweet dude. Let’s score some with the ladies. You in Jay? The trail can be a bit treacherous on horse.”

“Yeah I’ll be fine.” He called from behind us as he struggled to ride a trot. He never bothered to learn how to post.

Kismet urged me into a gallop as we reached the open fields that made up the grassy plain that surrounded the rocky canyon in the distance that was a favorite forbidden swimming spot with a lot of the ranchers children. Kismet gave me my head and I enjoyed being able to run with a competent rider on my back. Without a human bouncing around like a sack of flour I was able to truly run and feel free. I could pretend for just a moment that I wasn’t slave to a bunch of humans who thought they were better than us.

My taste of freedom was cut short by the gentle tug of the reins reminding me off the bit in my mouth and the saddle on my back. We had reached the canyon. I hated this trail. It was narrow, rocky and often Jake would try to take it way to fast. Kismet, however, kept me to a walk as Hande and a struggling Jake came up to the trail. I headed down the steep trail making my way closer to the river that carved its path into the landscape. Kismet did me the favor of leaning back so my balance wasn’t completely off. When we reached the river bank, Kismet pulled me to a stop. Hande came up beside us on his gelding who eagerly lowered his head to drink the water. Despite my heaving sides and sweaty flank I didn’t mirror the chestnut. I had learned that lesson the hard way. Don’t try to take your head from your rider. I had received 10 lashes for that. I wasn’t risking that. I could wait until we got back or I was tied up.

Jake finally arrived beside us, the mare tried to drink but he roughly pulled her head back.

Hande reached over forcing Jake to lower his hands and let the mare drink. “What are you doing Jay? Let her drink. You just ran her across the fields and down that tough trail, she deserves a drink.”

Jake shrugged. “The shifter never needs to drink. It just drinks when we get back or when I’m done riding.”

“It? Really Jay, they may be animals, but you can treat them as well as you would your horse. Use a name or at least the right pronouns. Also what do you mean she doesn’t drink?” Kismet retorted.

Jay shrugged waving his hand towards me. “I mean it, sorry, she, hasn’t drank anything, has she?”

“Uh no, I suppose not.” Kismet admitted. I wanted to though.

Jake pulled on the reins and yanked the mares head up. “Let’s go already or we might miss the ladies.”

Hande followed hake as they started along the trail that ran along the stream. Jake kicked Betty and she broke into a canter startled by the force. Jake was obviously taken by surprise but he didn’t try to slow her down. Hande followed with a much smoother transition. Kismet nudged me into a canter as well and I quickly closed the distance between us.

Jake pulled the mare roughly to a halt as he spotted the girls lounging on the sun covered rocks next to the waterfall. He swung off the mare, successfully this time, and grabbed her reins leading her over to the few scraggly trees that dared to grow in the rocky soil.

He tied Betty up then stood impatiently. “Hurry up guys!”

Hande quickly hopes of his gelding and tied him next to Betty. Kismet followed suite tying me next to the other two. I stared longfully at the water that flowed next to us. Unfortunately, I couldn’t reach it, and I didn’t dare to try to break loose to drink some. That would probably cost me 20 lashes. Not worth it.

The other horses stirred next to me shifting from resting one foot to the other. To any onlooker we probably just looked like three horses. Only closer inspection of the brand on my shoulder, as opposed to my hindquarters, revealed the tell tale S insignia that marked me as a shifter. Every shifter was given it when they came of age. The only reason they waited was so that the brand wouldn’t be distorted as much.

#shifter #abuse #goes way before 6 #backstory #fantasy #writing #not edited #shifter dragon rider

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