#byzantine map

[mapsontheweb]

Byzantine Empire, 600 CE.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

What did Jerusalem’s main road look like about 1,500 years ago?

An archaeological excavation conducted by the Israel Antiquities Authority in 2010 near the Old City’s Jaffa Gate brought to life a 1,500 year-old map.

The Madaba Map is an ancient mosaic map that paves the floor of Saint George’s Church in the city of Madaba, Jordan.

The map, created in 6th-7th centuries CE, depicts the Land of Israel during the Byzantine period.

It clearly shows the entrance into Jerusalem from the west via a central single gate that led to the main street of the city.

In the past, the reliability of the map, which, among other buildings, provides the earliest visual description of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, has been questioned.

The excavation, located near David Street known to tourists as the terraced shopping street exposed for the first time, archaeological evidence of Jerusalem’s central street from about 1,500 years ago.

The salvage excavation, carried out in the wake of infrastructure works undertaken in the area and funded by the Jerusalem Development Authority, gave the archaeologists and the public a rare glimpse into archaeological remains underlying the asphalt and the paving stones.

Familiar with the Madaba Map, Dr. Ofer Sion, Director of the Excavation on behalf of the Israel Antiquities Authority, suspected that the ancient main street underlay the modern road.

"After removing a several archaeological layers, about 4.5m below modern street level, we were excited to discover the large stone slabs, each about one meter long, that were part of the ancient street.

It’s great to see that today’s bustling David Street preserves the route of the Byzantine-period busy street from 1,500 years ago.”

The Madaba Map, whose extant part measures 16x5m, depicts the land of Israel as known to the mosaic artist.

Map encompasses the entire country, with emphasis on Jerusalem and its Christian sites.

It shows that many churches were first constructed in Jerusalem during this period, when city underwent a religious transformation from a pagan to a Christian city.

The churches can be identified by their red tiled roofs illustrated on the map.

© Israel Antiquities Authority

[funeralprocessor]

I'm profoundly addicted to writing niche irrelevant worldbuilding minutiae

[mapsifound]

Territorial evolution of the Byzantine/Eastern Roman Empire. Original Post:

[stefanzl]

A map I made a while ago showing the Eastern Roman Empire in the year 476

[thoodleoo]

man the byzantines were really off the shits when it came to mosaics. i've been staring at the medaba floor mosaic for like 20 minutes because it's so gorgeous and detailed. like look at this thing. this is a MAP. a MOSAIC MAP from the 6TH CENTURY AD with LABELS in GREEK. i want to touch it. i want to eat it. it's the sickest shit i've ever seen and it is a map. god damn

[bumblesimagines]

Under The Moonlight

Part 16

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Seven years have passed since (Y/N) and the crew arrived to Constantinople. They've settled in since then, but life has not been easy for them.

CW/TW: Violence, war, religion bashing, vikings being vikings, period era situationships lmao, angst?, hurt emotionally and physically but barely any comfort, red flags? dont know her, (y/n) im begging you there's better fish in the sea

If you're new here and wondering where this came from, you can check out part one here and the masterlist here!

~~~

Seven years had passed since Emperor Romanos offered his sincere gratitude for ensuring the safe passage of his new wife, Eleana who they now were to call Empress Zoe. His gratitude reared its head through riches, rewards, and a place amongst his people, as well as a place amongst his army of men trained to kill and conquer the land of the empire's enemies. Constantinople was home now, even if temporarily.

They'd all settled in, although it'd taken time to grow accustomed to the vastly different culture and language. It'd been a difficult feat for (Y/N), his longing for his real home never dissipating amidst the heat and flourishing city. He missed his settlement in Greenland, his old friends, dearly missed his beloved mother who'd no doubt presumed him dead when he and his siblings hadn't returned home from their voyage. He longed for the cold and snow, the sound of the wind howling at night. 

Leif and Harald, ever the adaptable ones, slotted in perfectly with their surroundings.

Harald climbed the ranks with ease, finding himself a stranger no more to Emperor Romanos as his personal bodyguard and newfound general of his own army: the Varangians, an army full of Vikings and mercenaries in need of a home and money. It'd been expected from a Viking prince to slither his way up and coil around such an important role. He ensured the crew joined his army, and took part in the fighting and rewards. But it was never enough for Harald, no matter how many riches he acquired through the years. Nothing was ever enough for him.

Leif took to Mariam's old home and called it his own, his newfound thirst for knowledge only growing after he read through all her books and eventually began seeking it out in places called 'libraries'; rooms of knowledge, he explained. Each time they traveled to fight another war for Emperor Romanos, he sought out the writings and maps of those places, learning new information from ancient and modern times. The sciences of the world around them enthralled him, captivated him into an obsession. (Y/N) preferred it, though. He preferred his brother's eagerness over watching Leif lose himself in grief again. 

As much as (Y/N) found himself feeling out of place, fighting for the Byzantine Empire and calling Constantinople had given him much to do; and provided him with chances to see places he never would've dreamt of seeing. Such as the place they'd traveled to now, to defeat the Saracens at the urging of General Maniakes in Sicily. They'd been fighting for six months in what felt like an endless siege, and Emperor Romanos had begun growing antsy. 

(Y/N) squinted through the darkness as he walked through the tunnels they'd been digging for the past few weeks, a lantern tightly gripped in one hand and held before him. His eyes slowly grew accustomed to the darkness around him, allowing him to better see the crevices in the dirt walls around him. Short wooden beams and planks held the dirt in place, preventing it from crumpling and trapping those within. All a part of Leif's plan, as always. 

"How are we doing, Kaysan?" (Y/N) called out once the man came into view, flashing him a smile and being rewarded with a large one in return. Kaysan chuckled and wiped his hands along his pants, the subtle stink of sulfur lingering in the air around them. Foul-smelling enough to bring tears to one's eyes, but Leif insisted it was needed for his plan to work. 

"Your brother is working on the last of the sulfur we need. He says once it is ready, we can set the plan in motion." Kaysan answered, taking a step back to admire the combined work of the last couple weeks. Bundles of sulfur had been pushed into holes expanding across the wall of dirt, ready to be lit by a flame that'd bring down the tunnel and subsequently the wall of the fortress just mere feet above them. "I must admit I had little faith in his plan at first. But seeing what this powder can do when a flame is close to it..." Kaysan shook his head lightly, a twinkle of admiration in his dark eyes. 

"It is hard to match up to such a creative thinker as Leif." (Y/N) chuckled, his steps slow as he walked along the wall and took in the wall before him. He'd always known his brother had been destined for great things, whether on land or sea. Leif had inherited the best parts of his parents. No longer the savage son of Erik the Red. No, that title had fallen on (Y/N)'s shoulders, and he accepted it. 

"Come now," Kaysan gave his shoulder a small playful push. "You hardly need to match up to him, (Y/N). You're a smart man, and a loyal one at that; and, from what I've heard, you're quite charismatic when you wish to be."

"Have you been gossiping with the others, Kay?" (Y/N) questioned with a teasing grin, casting a glance at the man over his shoulder. It hardly counted as gossip, he supposed. Things with Harald never lasted long, whether he pulled away first or Harald did, but they always returned to each other in a desperate clash. It was vexing and tiresome, and he'd made up his mind a long time ago to put his foot down when it came to the charming prince. 

Kaysan gave a light shrug. "It surprised us, is all." 

The thumping of footsteps, soft panting, and clinking of lanterns swaying filled the tunnel, and (Y/N) had heard the panting noise enough times to recognize who it belonged to. He made brief eye contact with Kaysan and turned, raising his lantern high and smiling at the sight of his brother, although it faltered slightly when Harald appeared behind him. 

"Keeping an eye on things?" Leif asked, his hand rubbing affectionately into (Y/N)'s shoulder when he passed him by. The two Vikings carried sacks slung over their shoulder, no doubt the last of the sulfur they needed to ensure the wall would completely collapse and allow them within. (Y/N) gave a silent nod, feeling Harald's eyes burning into the side of his skull.

"Future King of Norway," Kaysan greeted teasingly, patting Harald's arm and taking the sack from Harald so he could insert the last of it into the dirt walls around them. Harald chuckled breathlessly in return, tearing his eyes away from (Y/N) to study the dirt room. (Y/N) allowed himself to watch him, taking in the grime and blood covering his exposed biceps and face. He'd ridden off to battle once more, no doubt a failure as all the battles before. 

"As soon as we take this castle," Harald murmured, his hands coming to rest at his hips. (Y/N) swallowed, his gaze sliding away from the beautiful prince as bitterness settled in his stomach. Despite the years that'd passed, Harald's mind never changed on what he truly desired above all else: the throne of Norway, one occupied by the son of a man Harald once considered a close friend. 

"Is there really as much treasure inside as you say?" Kaysan asked, voice strained as he worked to shove the rolls of sulfur into the wall with Leif's help.

"Enough to fund all our dreams," Harald replied. 

(Y/N) hooked his lantern on one of the wooden posts and crouched down beside him, rolling up the dark blue sleeves of his tunic and revealing the ink along his right arm. The creature his mother would tell tales of back in his youth; a sea monster that resembled an octopus but grew to be as large as a warship named Kraken.

The head and body of the began around his bicep while the tentacles expanded and wrapped around his forearm, stopping around his wrist. He understood why so many others covered themselves with ink, whether writings or designs. The Kraken reminded him of his mother, of all the times he spent on a boat watching his brother and father hunt for narwhals and other sea beasts. 

Dipping his hand into the sack, he wrapped his fingers around one of the rolls and carefully lifted it before he pushed it into one of the holes in the wall. He rolled it side to side, scrapping and mushing dirt until the roll was securely in place. He mimicked the movements with a few more rolls, absentmindedly listening to the three men speak about the plan until he finished, his fingertips lightly dusted in the vibrant yellow powder. (Y/N) stood back up and turned, nearly barreling into Harald's chest plate. 

"Can we speak?" Harald asked softly, and (Y/N) felt his skin burn at the knowing glances cast in their direction from Kaysan and Leif. 

"We have little to speak about, Harald." (Y/N) told him, scooping his lantern back into his hand and making his way through the tunnel. Harald followed him because the man never took an answer he didn't want, and (Y/N) largely ignored him until they reached the entrance of the tunnel and stepped out into the blinding light of the late evening. 

"There's much to speak about, actually. Starting with the most important thing-"

"The throne?" (Y/N)'s features scrunched up, his spotty vision slowly adjusting to the daylight around them. He blinked a few times and his vision finally focused on the bustling camp around them. His gaze darted back to Harald's face, catching the grimace that passed over his features at his words before the general cleared his throat. 

"No, I do not... I don't wish to speak of the throne. I know how you feel about it. You know how I feel about it." Harald frowned, his lips nearly covered by his thick beard. He took the lanterns from his hands and hung them up by the entrance, a heavy sigh escaping him. "You've done well in Constantinople for many years. I've seen you flourish. You're not as guarded as you once were. If you can do well in a court like the Emperor's, you'd do even better in a Viking court amongst your own people." 

"Except it'd be your court with Christian jarls and Vikings who believe me worshipping a god that isn't theirs is a crime punishable by death. Your religion loves violently, Harald, as do its supporters. They'd condemn you for everything you've done with me." (Y/N) scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief and walking forward deeper into camp toward his tent. They'd had the conversation many times over the last few years, a neverending dance of push and pull trying to tire each other out into admitting defeat. But they were Vikings, and Vikings never gave up easily. 

(Y/N) stepped through the flaps of his tent and released a heavy sigh, his feet guiding him to the basin sat on the table filled with warm water. He dipped his hands inside, cleaning the dirt and sulfur off his fingers until the water turned murky. The tent flaps rustled with the arrival of someone else stepping into his tent and he peeked over his shoulders, half-expecting to see Harald but only seeing Dorn. She smiled at him, her hands and sleeves of her blue tunic steeped in dark red. He crinkled his nose. 

"Trust me," She sighed. "I know how it smells." 

"Come wash your hands, then." (Y/N) smiled, picking up a rag and drying his hands with it as she stepped up and eagerly rinsed her hands clean of pig's blood. Her eyes flickered up toward him a few times, her lips twisting and teeth digging lightly into them. He tilted his head at her and took a seat at the table, reaching out to pluck a grape from the bowl in the center. "What is it, Dorn?" 

"Batu and I were speaking the other day, and the topic of you and Harald came up." She began softly, thumb roughly rubbing into the skin of her palm until the streak of blood disappeared. Dorn raised her drenched hands toward her face, wiping off the grime and splatters of blood that'd collected on her skin. "I always wondered what went wrong between you both. When we meet... it seemed as if you two had much unspoken business. Then, during our trip to Constantinople, it all became clear. You were lovers, or former lovers, it was hard to tell at times but you... loved each other. We thought you had reconciled from whatever had occurred and yet..." 

"I've come to learn that love is complicated, and at most times it's the worst thing that can occur. Harald is... a lot of things, too many things, truly. If you are worried that the same will happen between you and Batu, I can certainly assure you that it will not. Batu loves you, Dorn. I can see that you love him. You're happy together, content. Neither of you desires more than what you have now. Harald does. He hungers for far too many things, and it will eventually be his ruin. I do not wish to be dragged along with him." 

"But you love each other?" Dorn questioned, wiping away droplets of water from her chin and drying her hands on her pants. (Y/N) plopped the grape into his mouth and bit into it, feeling the juices explode along his tongue as he mulled over her question. He loved Harald, he knew that well, but part of him resented him too. Most days, Harald made him wonder if he loved him, or merely lusted after him.

"It's complicated." He answered quietly, and Dorn winced, giving a meek nod and turning on her heel to leave the tent. He watched her depart, a mixture of emotions coiling around his heart and constricting it. (Y/N) released a shaky inhale and ran his hand over his face, forcing away the thoughts of Harald and their odd relationship to focus on preparing himself for a good night's rest and a long morning. 

Seven years had passed, but it barely changed either of them.

The following morning, (Y/N) and the others awoke and began preparing for the day ahead before the sun had even risen over the horizon. They changed into clothes more worthy of battle, putting on their armor and chain mail before collecting their weapons. (Y/N) secured his dagger to his hip and retrieved a battle axe, a hefty yet powerful thing that'd do more swift damage than his dagger. By the time the sun rose, the Varangian army had gathered around awaiting instructions. 

"Ready?" Leif asked softly, instinctively reaching out to check the straps of (Y/N)'s armor. The younger man smiled and allowed him to do so without fuss, a soft chuckle leaving him when Leif gave an approving nod, his fingers running over the chain mail before his arms dropped back to his sides. 

"As always." (Y/N) sighed, glancing at Harald when the prince approached them. The deep furrow in his brows softened when they locked eyes, the determination in his gaze disappearing into a look of longing. Harald had grown over the years, all his training with a disciplined army making him stronger, and larger. His hair had grown, as had his beard, and on the days the two managed to keep the peace without arguments, Harald allowed him to trim them. He looked older, more king than prince, and it made his stomach churn to admit it to himself.

Harald walked past them with a nod, coming to a stop at the entrance of the tunnel and peering into the darkness inside where Batu and Kaysan waited for the right moment. They were to draw the attention of the soldiers and coax them into attacking first so the flames from their attack ignited the trail leading to the sulfur. Once ignited, the two had to run before the tunnel exploded and the wall fell. Harald raised his battle axe and lightly tapped the bell, the one Batu needed to ring when the plan sprung into action. 

"You never were good at waiting, were you?" Leif arched a brow, wrapping his fingers around the bell to stop it from swaying and tolling. A small, playful smile tugged at Harald's lips. "Patience. It won't be long now, friend."

"Patience is hardly one of Harald's best attributes." (Y/N) murmured, a hint of teasing in his voice that drew Harald's lips into a full smile. Harald's hand reached out toward him, his palm pressing over his hip and sliding over his lower back; fingers dipping under the silver armor and pressing into the fabric beneath. His touch always felt protective and safe, but it never failed to fill (Y/N) with a false sense of hope. 

"It has always been one of yours, though," Harald spoke softly, his fingertips rubbing the fabric into (Y/N)'s skin affectionately. His eyes crinkled, and despite everything that'd been bubbling up inside (Y/N)'s stomach, he returned the smile. The prince's hand moved to the base of his neck, squeezing the exposed skin there lightly. To any strangers, it may have come across as two close friends merely speaking. But it was simply because Harald couldn't touch his face in public as he desired. "We should speak after the battle, (Y/N). I cannot allow another day to pass without us having a conversation." 

Pursing his lips, (Y/N) gave a small nod and wrapped his fingers over Harald's wrist. "Fine, Harald." Harald's features brightened and he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together before he released him as the bell began to toll. 

The enemy had fallen right for Leif's trap, just as they had hoped. 

Harald clapped Leif's shoulder and trekked back to his post atop a mound of dirt overlooking his army of seven hundred men and women. He began his speech, his words of encouragement riling up the army into cheers and shouts, warrior cries and calls. (Y/N) lingered by the tunnel's entrance, searching the dark for any sign of Batu and Kaysan as the army erupted into more cheers and cries. He spotted movement and Batu emerged, his armor slightly singed and parts of him coated in ash. (Y/N) waited with bated breath for Kaysan, but he never emerged, 

"Leif," (Y/N) turned to look at his brother, giving a light shake of his head. Leif's jaw clenched and he inhaled sharply, tossing his axe to Batu and motioning for him to join the others before he entered the tunnel, the darkness swallowing him and voice echoing off the walls until it grew distant and hardly audible. 

The cries and war horns sounded off through the valley as the army moved, rushing toward the wall their tunnel had led to. The ground gave a light tremor, and through the darkness, Leif emerged with Kaysan leaning on his body, a trickle of blood seeping down from his temple as dark smoke escaped from within the tunnel. (Y/N) called over one of the healers, helping his brother hand Kaysan off to the older man before the two turned and spotted the wall crumbling into a heap of smoke and dust. General Maniakes' men sprinted into action, following after the Varangians and joining the battle. 

"Come!" Leif called to him, taking two axes for himself and running toward the fortress with (Y/N) hot on his heels. 

Stepping through the rumble of the fallen wall, all that could be heard were cries of anger and pain, the clashing of metal against metal, and the thumping of rushing footsteps as all armies hurried to fight and defend. (Y/N) moved forward, locking onto the first Saracen soldier he saw and swinging his axe. The soldier blocked with his shield and then pulled it away to thrust his sword forward, but (Y/N) anticipated the attack and dodged, raising his axe and embedding the blade into the side of the soldier's throat. 

Taking the shield for himself, (Y/N) used it to block attacks from other soldiers, shoving them back and into expecting Varangians who struck the soldiers down with cries and heaves. The first wave of soldiers fell easily and (Y/N) heard Harald's victory cry sound off throughout the air, the tight crowd dispersing throughout the fortress to attack, take, and conquer as they made their way to the castle. The people residing within the walls had quickly fled to the castle for sanctuary, leaving the place largely deserted apart from the second and then the third wave of soldiers. 

By the time they reached the castle gates, Emperor Romanos had joined them, and with his appearance came a plea for parley that momentarily stopped the fighting. (Y/N) found his way to Leif, standing beside him and Dorn as the gates into the castle slowly parted, revealing soldiers inside and the people that'd taken refuge watching from windows or along the roofs. Their ruler, the Emir of Syracuse, waited in the center, clad in clothes and robes of gold and black. He walked forward, and despite his city having been sacked, his face remained unreadable. 

"Emir," Emperor Romanos spoke, "We have reached your barbican and taken your city. Your castle is surrounded. I have come to ask for your surrender, to save your people unnecessary suffering and death." Leif stepped forward, beginning to repeat his words in Arabic but the Emir raised his hand to stop him.

"A translator is not necessary. I understand you perfectly." He said, waving Leif off before he turned his attention back to Emperor Romanos, his dark eyes studying the shorter man before him. "There will be no surrender. As we speak, a great Saracen army is on its way from Cairo and Alexandria to join us. When it arrives it will be you who is surrounded and destroyed."

"For your sake, you should hope it arrives soon." Emperor Ramons responded.

There seemed to be a certain smugness that passed over the Emir's features, finally breaking the serious stare. "We are not worried. We have food and supplies to last us many months."

"But no water." Leif piped up, and the smugness promptly vanished, the furrow in Emir's brows disappearing and the corner of his lips turning downwards. "Syracuse has six wells. I diverted water from five. Your supply will last a week at most." 

At that, Emperor Romanos grinned. "Perhaps your allies will reach you and destroy us before that happens, or perhaps they won't and..." His eyes raised and dragged over the people watching and listening, amongst them women and frightened children. The Emir's head turned and (Y/N) followed his line of sight to a woman with three children at her side, all of various ages. His wife and children, he assumed. "Syracuse will perish. But either way.. many will die. And all will suffer."

"Then I offer another solution," The Emir said, tearing his attention away from his family to look back at them. "Single combat between two fighters. If you are victorious, Sycaruse is yours and you have my promise that my warriors will not retaliate. If you lose, you must depart and not return. Either way, my people must not be harmed."

"And who would your warrior be?" The Emperor inquired with a slight tilt of his head. (Y/N) glanced toward Harald, and then General Maniakes. The brutal, hate-filled man had hardly done much to win his ruler's approval over the last days, at least in comparison to Harald who'd handed him the fortress on a golden platter with little trouble. The Emperor himself would never fight, but he'd certainly unleash his favorite dog on the enemy. 

"Me," Emir answered icily. "And yours?"

"I fight for the empire." General Maniakes deep voice rumbled as he stepped forward but Emperor Romanos raised his hand to stop him, shaking his head and turning to look over his shoulder at Harald. The corners of his lips twisted up into a smile, one that made General Maniakes scowl and glare viciously at Harald.

"You will fight my Varangian." Emperor Romanos responded, striding forward toward the Emir and giving a dip of his head. "And you have my promise. Your people will not be harmed and our agreement, honored."

(Y/N) remained silent the walk back to camp, his gaze bouncing between the floor and staring holes into the back of Harald's head as they entered Leif's tent alongside the others. He approached the basin and dipped a rag inside, roughly wiping his hands and face clean to distract himself from his churning mind. He could feel the irritation creeping up his back, an annoyance he couldn't quite pin on anyone. Batu sharpened Harald's axe in thought, the sound filling the silence while Kaysan helped Harald adjust his armor. 

"If we were in Novgorod, I could sell a thousand seats and make enough to retire," Batu said and laughed heartily, his words only reminding (Y/N) of the countless times Harald had thrown himself into battle without thinking. He scarcely had good memories of Novgorod, and the ones he remembered vividly were of Harald bloody and battered. 

Without thinking, (Y/N) sent Batu a glare sharp enough to get his friend to hurriedly clamp his mouth shut and wince. He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes, subtly motioning for Kaysan and him to make their exit. Kaysan nodded and stood up from his stool, giving Harald a pat on the shoulder as Batu handed him his axe back and smiled encouragingly before the two quickly slipped out of the tent; leaving Harald alone with the two brothers. 

"We can select three weapons. I'll start with the battle axe." Harald spoke, approaching the weapon's table and setting the axe alongside the rest. (Y/N) inhaled deeply through his nose and rubbed his fingertips against his temple to soothe the beginnings of a headache away before it could consume him. Leif remained equally as silent and it finally made Harald cave. "You're both quiet, which means you're either angry or worried about something. Perhaps both."

"I worry you underestimate him," Leif revealed with a sigh, raising his head to look at his friend with a growing frown. Harald scoffed, his brows furrowing as his eyes darted between the two brothers, almost as if offended they'd doubt him. (Y/N) squeezed the water out of the rag and set it aside to dry, finally looking up at the prince. 

"I underestimate no man who's trying to kill me." Harald retorted, turning his irritated stare onto the weapons spread out in front of him. "We'll both be fighting for our lives." 

"No, only you will be." Leif's lips formed a grim line, feet moving slowly as he approached his friend and motioned in the direction of the castle. "He is fighting for his people."

"As am I-"

"What people? Yours or Romanos's?" Leif questioned him sharply, arching his brows and drawing a scowl from Harald. (Y/N) leaned his hip back against the table, his arms folding over his stomach. Harald and his short temper... it was a mystery how the man had lived for so long without getting himself killed.

"I fight today for the same reason I've been fighting for the last seven years! For treasure." It stung, even if (Y/N) had seen it coming, piercing his stomach and sucking him dry of the false hope. "So I can return to Norway and assume the throne of my people, which is rightfully mine. Nothing else." 

"I am glad to hear my brother and I are hardly considered things you fight for, Harald, after we've spent the last seven years fighting and living in a foreign country for you." (Y/N) seethed, and the tension in Harald's shoulders disappeared, his eyes squeezing shut and a silent curse forming on his lips. His chest heaved with a sigh and he stepped past Leif, his arm extending to grab him but (Y/N) smacked it away with a scoff. "I can understand caring little for a bedmate but Leif deserves to be someone you fight for after everything he's done for you." 

"A bedmate- (Y/N), I-" 

"Enjoy your fight, General." (Y/N) shoved past him forcibly and rounded the table before Harald could attempt to stop him. He threw the flaps of the tent apart and stepped out into the sunlight, taking a sharp inhale of the fresh air to calm the fury and hurt dancing along his veins. His fingers wrapped around the handle of his dagger, allowing himself to take a few more steadying breaths. 

He'd made the right decision years prior, he reminded himself. Harald proved it to him time after time. He just needed a reminder every once in a while, even if it hurt.

(Y/N) avoided looking in Harald's direction once he finished preparing for the fight, only focusing on following Emperor Romanos into the castle where they'd set up an area for the fight. He broke away from the Emperor's tight crowd to stand behind the table where Batu placed Harald's other two choices of weapon: a smaller battle axe and a sword, with the larger battle axe being the one he walked into the makeshift arena with. 

"He didn't mean to say it like that," Leif said quietly, always the one forced to make peace between them. (Y/N) pursed his lips and clasped his hands in front of himself, his fingers wrapping tightly around his palm. "I know you called yourself a bedmate to hurt him, (Y/N). You've seen how desperate he's been these past three years; you've seen how he gets when he hears you have a new lover. You are much more to him than that."

"But not enough to desire a different destiny for himself." Leif fell quiet at that, his softened eyes gazing into the side of his brother's face before he sighed softly and looked forward toward the two fighters when they entered the arena and assumed their positions. Despite his lingering hurt, worry jabbed at his stomach for Harald. 

Harald moved first, swinging his axe upward to knock back the Emir's sword, but the Emir moved swiftly, turning on his feet and facing Harald before he could turn around. Harald's jaw ticked and he studied his opponent, switching which hand held the axe before he charged again, grasping the axe with both hands and taking a few swings at him; metal clanging through the air as the Emir swiftly blocked each swing with his sword until Harald turned his axe and slammed the blunt end against his chest, forcing him back a few steps. 

The Emir grunted and grabbed Harald's axe, shoving it back and mimicking his movement as he slammed the handle of his sword repeatedly into Harald's chest which forced Harald to stumble backward and just barely dodge a swing from the sword. The Emir charged, giving Harald hardly any time to dodge another swing but he managed to duck down in time and create some distance between them to reassess his approach. The Emir sneered, baring his teeth and grasping the handle of his sword with both hands. He was a good fighter, as all rulers had to be. 

Harald charged again, slamming the end and top of his axe repeatedly against the Emir's side before slamming the top near his armpit and forcing him back roughly against the stone wall. The Emir released a shout at the impact and shoved the axe away, slashing his sword at Harald and missing his chest plate by an inch or so. Harald swung again, only for his axe to slam into the wall and break in half, leaving him without a weapon. 

With the half still in hand, he managed to defend himself by blocking the Emir's attacks as he sprang and walked backward toward the table. He threw the broken piece at the Emir's head, nearly hitting his ear, and swiftly turned on his heel to snatch both weapons from the table. He faced the Emir once more, eyes narrowing when the Emir approached his own table and took two new swords into his hands. They stared at each other for a brief moment, catching their breaths. 

The Emir charged first with a cry - perhaps growing emboldened with the trickle of blood seeping from Harald's brow - and swung both his swords at him relentlessly, turning and swinging as he followed Harald's quick dodges. Harald nearly sank his axe into the Emir's face in a quick turn but the Emir dodged it in time. They continued back and forth, swinging and dodging hits from each other with grunts and cries. They moved viciously and relentlessly, switching between fighting offensively and defensively within seconds as they grew more enraged and desperate for a win. 

Harald managed to swipe at the Emir's feet and knock him onto the gravelly ground, the Emir's foot rising up quickly to slam into Harald's knee and knock him down into a kneeling position. The Emir moved onto his knees as well, the blows they swung at each other forcing them to remain kneeling until the Emir launched himself forward and Harald threw himself backward, both men rolling along the floor. Harald moved onto his side and attempted to stab the Emir in the side with his sword but the Emir slashed right through the blade, leaving him with a sword resembling a knife. 

The two men scrambled upright and assessed each other again, sucking in large gulps of air and staring each other down. Harald switched the way he held his broken sword and the swing-block dance resumed until Harald swung at the Emir's and was cut just above the elbow. He released a cry of pain and sound around, wincing as he touched his bleeding arm before looking up at his opponent. The Emir stared at Harald, his breathing turning wheezy and his feet staggering. (Y/N) caught the gleam of the broken sword jammed right below the Emir's armpit. 

The Emir raised his arm and stumbled forward again, a look of distraught passing over his features as he fell to his knees and slumped forward. While Emperor Romanos's men erupted into cheers of victory, (Y/N) couldn't help but look in the direction of the Emir's wife, watching the tears stream helplessly down her face. Her husband had fought bravely, not just for his people but for her and their children. (Y/N) bit the inside of his cheek. 

His father had fought and killed countless of men, simply because he could and felt like it, but at least in Greenland, when you killed a man it was because it was necessary. For food, shelter, to defend your family. But in Constantinople, they took lives to make an emperor richer. They killed for treasure they hardly used, and for little else.

(Y/N) grimaced. He missed home.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep1 Musings - Daciana: History through Visual Context in Ploiești, Romania

I immediately fell in love with The Vampire Daciana & her Romanian castle, and wanted to know more about it all.

We already know how much the set/costume designers on IWTV looooove attention to detail; they tell whole stories just through architecture, furniture, clothes, etc. So I was like OK, AMC, I see you; lemme start doing some reading up on Romania, so I can try to figure out what might be going on with Daciana. (Warning: I know eff all about Romania or Eastern Europe.)

ROMANIA

Map of Romania. Ploiești's the dot just under Muntenia, north of Bucharest, the capital. Ploiești's part of Wallachia, the IRL kingdom of Vlad Tepes (aka Dracula). Louis & Claudia went there in the 1940s, so I hope this map is accurate enough. (There's this map, but I dunno the date.)

DACIANA

The most obvious thing about her is that she's not dressed in the typical traditional Romanian folk clothing I see all over Google, full of white-red-blue/black palettes.

Daciana's not following traditional 19th/20th-century Romanian nationalist images. Her green/brown palette & silhouette is telling, as she lacks the puffy white blouses & dark skirts. (Despite her name, I'm ruling out her being Dacian (X X)--you think you're FUNNY, AMC! But IDK about Cezare Romulo (X X); might do a Pt2!)

Sleeves

First thing's her trailing slashed open sleeves, which were screaming Medieval! at me. Here's some 15th century Renaissance examples, but with surcoats, which is different, but the sleeves reminded me of hers so IDFK.

We could chalk this up to Daciana's design as just generic "medieval" fairytale stuff and keep it moving. But to give her a fair shake, I looked at local examples for anything similar that's more recent.

Traditional clothing from Huedin, Romania (north Transylvania), (X X).

Traditional clothing from Cluj, Romania (north Transylvania).

Keep Transylvanian/Muntenian cross-cultural contacts in mind when we get to Daciana's castle, cuz it's important!

Wrt rarer non-puffy sleeves, the square cut (light blue) seems to be more prevalent in Wallachia/Moldavia/Bessarabia (southern & eastern Romania); while the rectangular cut (dark green) is all over Romania, but definitely has a concentration in Wallachia & Moldavia.

And this makes sense, cuz the style seems to also be prevalent in 19th - 20th century Bulgaria, just south of Wallachia. Hrm....

Daciana's sleeves hang very long--the only example of super long sleeves I could find is a 19th century one at the Met (C.I.47.3.4a–d). The only example of slashed sleeves I could find is in this museum exhibit at Bran Castle (yes, THE Bran Castle--I'll get to it in a minute!)

Belt, Bodice, & Fabric

Daciana's belt is so plain compared to everything else. Is it supposed to be a leather Romanian chimir (worn by mountain/forest folk)? Those are only worn by men though? Or it depends? Or is it a just a plain cloth belt? It's reminding me of these examples (X X):

I wish I could see more of Daciana's bodice, if there's any particular kind of cut or patterns. Is the diamond netted/knotted/roped pattern on her arms significant? Her fabric is interesting, too:

What's this embroidery? Brocade? (Byzantine-Renaissance?) Damask? (c. 14th-16th century?) Lace? Something else? My brain wants to assume it's imported? Meaning: she's hella rich. Cuz like, the traditional Romanian blouse & skirt used to belong solely to peasants, b4 19th-20th century aristocrats started wearing it, too.

IDKY--more reading led me to a whole bunch of complicated stuff, that can probably be simplified by just saying: The Ottomans. XD

The pre-19th century Romanian aristocracy wore super opulent clothes, inspired by not just the Ottomans (X), but also the Byzantine Greeks (via 18th century Romanian Phanariote boyars (X X X)), etc. But aside from the hanging sleeves, Daciana's dress doesn't really resemble any of these foreign examples. However, it does track with my theory that Daciana predates the 19th-century Romanian nationalist/traditional clothes that became so iconic later on.

Like Louis & Claudia did, let's follow Daciana to her castle! ^0^

DACIANA'S CASTLE

I NEED to know if AMC filmed on location in Romania, or if Daciana's castle is just a studio set/green screen.

The interior's nowhere near what I expected, considering Daciana's haggard appearance. It's really nice--clean & tidy. No spiderwebs, no chipped plaster/paint, not even any bloodstains--but I've mentioned before that I think it's indicating that Daciana's a mother who takes better care of her home (and "child") than herself.

Archway

The first thing is the arch when they first come in (noticeable mostly cuz of how Louis had to bend down to get in, he's so tall).

These types of doors/arches are called "shouldered arches," dating from the Medieval-Gothic periods, which Europeans adapted from Islamic architecture during the medieval Crusades. (Examples inc. Lainici Monastery in Wallachia, and the Academy of Art in Cluj-Napoca (north Transylvania).)

The left pic's Biertan Fortified Church, in Sibiu (south Transylvania). (Another door.) The right pic's Bran Castle, in Brasov (south Transylvania). (Another door.) (Vlad Tepes/Dracula historically never owned this castle, but pop culture says otherwise.) Both places were built by the German/Saxon Transylvanians in the 14th-16th centuries; which might help date Daciana's castle, if not Daciana herself? (The Saxon Transylvanians were in Wallachia, too.)

Wall Ornamentation

The last thing I'll discuss is the wall ornamentation/decoration:

The painted floral trim everywhere instantly reminded me of The Witcher 3, as found in Hungarian, Polish, Ukranian etc buildings. Apparently the designs are all related to fertility, growth/luck, and the Tree of Life. Walls (X X X) and doors (X X) were painted. You can see northern Romanian painted ornamentation in Suceava (Bukovina).

There's painted wall designs in southern Romania, too.

"The research of the popular interior in the Argeş and Muscel areas leads to the determination, along with a local specificity, and some Transylvanian influences, in the contact areas between southern Transylvania and northern Muntenia. In the researched areas, two lines of development of the popular interior can be observed, one relatively simple and the other complex. If the first is the prerogative of a typical Subcarpathian interior, the second represents a distinctly Transylvanian form, which was also imposed due to the presence of the Transylvanian population in the south of the Carpathians, settled in numerous villages." -- (Google Translated from Arta populară din zonele Argeș și Muscel, 1967)

(The website RomaniaDacia has A LOT to say about Transylvania, and the impact of the Germans, Saxons, Hungarians, etc on Wallachia & the rest of Romania.)

Sure enough, I was finding way more carved ornamentation (X X X X X X) than painted ones.

But I wonder if that's why a lot of southern traditional Romanian interiors I've been finding have totally plain whitewashed walls, too, with no painted ornaments, just tapestries (X X). I did find Romanian interior floral wall painted trims (X), but not nearly as much.

Cuz actually, the closest comparanda I was finding for Daciana was Northern European rosemaling (X X), which is also giving me medieval vibes (X); specifically: trims on illuminated manuscripts like the Book of Hours (X X X)--which we know from Lestat in S01E06.

And we do see some Romanian medieval fresco borders & frescoes that had been plastered over & whitewashed, in Biertan's 15th century churches, and in 13th-15th century Darjiu (Transylvania).

So, I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of Romanian buildings (especially castles with whitewashed plastered walls) were formerly painted similar to Daciana's. Unfortunately, I just can't find an example or figure out what AMC might've been inspired by--Romania has hundreds of castles & churches.

So, I'm tapping out--this is the most I could find so far. U_U

Results? Inconclusive! 😭 My Google-fu has failed me, LOL!

I still have no idea what time period Daciana could be from. We could go several routes:

Go by her name, and say she's ooooold AF, an actual Dacian. She's just been collating Eastern European culture as she ages, but stopped at some point (as her mind deteriorated)

She's medieval, somewhere roundabouts the 14th-16th century (making her ~500 years old, the same age as Armand--but she's weaker (as I've theorized b4), which is why she was able to burn herself up.)

Settle on her being a local Wallachian from Southern Romania, likely pre-19th century / pre-industrial early-modern Europe

Handwave everything aside as Renn-Faire fairytale fantasy; let the tale seduce you~!

OR, we can just bully AMC until they give us an extended BTS look at how Daciana was conceptualized, telling us all the tea about her! 😈

[mapsontheweb]

The "Three Romes," Juxtaposed on Each Other

[whencyclopedia]

This map illustrates the rise and growth of the Seljuk Sultanate of Rum (the name "Rûm" was a synonym for the medieval Eastern Roman Empire and its people, a usage that continues in modern Turkish. It originates from the Aramaic and Parthian terms for Rome passed down through the Greek Ῥωμαῖοι" Romaioi") – a culturally Turco-Persian Sunni Muslim state established over conquered Byzantine territories...

[lesssial]

Trying to figure out the year in Bram's/Fyodor's Backstory

So what I'm looking at is Vlad the impaler's timeline along with a few hints in the manga. But not much Dracula because I haven’t read the book, and also because the book takes place about 400 years later.

So the castle that Bram lived in, for people who don't know, is an actual castle in Transylvania Romania named Bran.

Basic info

-Bran castle was built between 1377 and 1388. (Vlad the impaler never set foot in it but Dracula lived there.)

-Vlad III ruled Wallachia

-Vlad the impaler / Vlad III lived from 1431-1476 (He was defeated by the ottomans not Romans and his head was shipped to Constantinople/Istanbul)

-Vlad III’s reigns; 1448 (For a few months), 1456-62, and 1476-77.

It is a bit hard to truly connect to two while they ruled two different regions (Transylvania & Wallachia)

The knights

In this panel, we can get a look of the types of armor these knights wore.

The majority of the helmets resemble a barbute helmet which was used in the 15th century

The rectangular shields (scutum) mostly disappeared by the end of the 3rd century

Mainly spears and Halberds (The spear ax things) with an occasional sword in the crowd of knights. (Spears were cheaper at the time)

The full body armor became popular between 1400-1500s.

Byzantine empire fell in 1453 while the holy roman empire fell in the 1800s.

What nation are the knights from?

This is the main question. Are these knights from the Holy Roman empire? The Byzantine empire before it fell? Most likely not the ottoman empire due to the amount of christian symbolism. It can’t be the Byzantine empire because they rarely if at all used Halberts. Also the Byzantine empire fell pretty early so it's unlikely they were associated with Bram’s defeat. It seems like the Holy Roman empire however they did not use rectangular shields, favoring a kite or heater shield instead. Then who else?

I couldn't find any good maps

Fyodor mentioned the North (Idk why Bram started blabbering about the west). Do you know what was north of Transylvania? The Kingdom of Hungary who also had a skilled army known as the black army that used rectangular shields and was big on spears and Halberd.

The Hungarian Black army (1458-1494)

From the evidence gathered so far, it must be 1458-76.

King Matthias & the Sultan

Here, Bram asks Fyodor who he serves, either King Matthias (The king of Hungary) or the Sultan (Leader of the Ottomans). Bram was suspicious of the Sultan for the reason that they started eyeing Europe once the Byzantine Empire fell, along with his history with them (Held hostage as a boy). The tension between King Matthias and Vlad III started when Matthias received a letter from the saxons allegedly written by Vlad III in which he offered support to the Ottomans. This was enough to convince Matthias of Vlad III’s treachery so he imprisoned him from 1463 to 1475. Vlad III was intercepted and captured by Matthias after he had escaped Ottoman capture and sought Matthias for assistance. This could be when Bram was defeated in the manga(?) So I guess the year may have been 1462-1463?

Some bonus info that I noticed is that Matthias signed a peace treaty with the Holy Roman empire in 1463. Maybe Bram was defeated after they signed the treaty so they could form some sort of coalition against him (This could explain why the knights all had religious imagery on their helmets).

Another thing is that Bram was impaled(?) alongside two other women. In the Dracula book, I believe it was mentioned there were three female vampires that the protagonist had to defeat before killing Dracula in the castle. This could hint towards the fact that Bram was in the castle when he was attacked and defeated.

(I'm having trouble mixing history and fiction. Fyodor definitely had a hand in this. No way he just came to warn Bram for no reason)

None of these images are mine (I'm sure you know, but just in case)

Yeah that’s all I got, please comment to correct me and/or let me know if you know anything. (Might edit later idk)

[caesarsaladinn]

every time the overall Byzantine empire is depicted with a pre-Heraclian map takes a couple weeks off my life. it wasn’t that big

[daenysthedreamer101]

Youngest Original ~ TVDU

Ch 9 - Old wounds never heal

Mikaelson!OC

Warnings: Esther being a bad mother/ANGST/self-harm, kinda (scratching)

A/N: When I first started writing this ch, I thought it would be a fun little filler ch...it did not turn out that way lol. I had a lot of feels while writing this one.

Masterlist

Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word. - George R.R. Martin

October 2010, Mystic Falls

The initial plan of leaving Klaus and Mystic Falls behind fell into the water the second their mother walked into the house. Immediately upon reuniting with her children, their mother started making order in the house.

Both Mother and Finn cut their hair, wanting to look more 'time appropriate'. To Bekah and Kassie's great pleasure, a big shopping spree was organized. Klaus wasn't so happy, since he had to pay for everything.

Kassie was overjoyed, now that her entire family was back together. She was more than happy to help Kol and Finn adjust to the 21st century. She spent hours with both of them explaining how certain machines work and how society has changed over time, and she helped them with learning modern English.

Kol was more or less familiar with most of the things she mentioned. Finn, on the other hand, was not. Back when he was daggered, the Byzantine Empire was still a thing and there was no electricity, no modern medicine, and no cars.

~

Finn was in the house library where Kassandra told him to wait for her. She was insistent on helping him assimilate to the 21st century and who was he to tell her no? Soon, he heard a click-clack sound fast approaching him. He would later learn it was because of her shoes. "I'm here! Sorry for making you wait." Kassandra said as she entered the room with many books in her arms.

She wore a black sleeveless top with a cowl neckline, blue bell-bottom jeans, and brown leather boots. Her long, dark curls fell freely down her back and a big smile was plastered on her face. Finn could see she was very excited about this.

She plopped herself right next to him, and he could see her bright eyes looking at him. Oh, how he missed her beautiful face. He missed how her eyes almost disappeared when she laughed, he missed her giggles, he missed the way she would scrunch her nose like a bunny from time to time. 

"What?" She asked with furrowed brows. He chuckled and shook his head. 

"It's nothing. I just...missed you, a lot." He confessed. 

"Aww...I missed you too, Finn!" She said, giggled, and did the bunny nose scrunch thing. At that moment, an image of a young Kassie weaving herself through his legs and begging to be carried flashed through his mind. He patted her on the head, just like when she was little. 

"Now...We have lots to talk about! Let's start with the Second Crusade!" Kassie then proceeded to tell Finn about 800 years' worth of European and world history. They were interrupted multiple times, mostly by Kol or Klaus. Kassie shooed them away every time, annoyed that they were disturbing her precious time with her eldest brother.

After Elijah, Finn was the brother she was closest to. Finn was 12 years older than her, so he always felt very protective of both her and Bekah. He was by far, the gentlest of her brothers and the quietest one in the family. 

As she was folding the map of Europe she used in her presentation, Finn observed her face - her eyelashes seemed to be covered in a black substance which made them darker and her eyelids appeared to shimmer. How? He didn't know. He gently grabbed her face and turned it toward him. He studied her face with furrowed brows, trying to understand.

She seemed taken aback by this, her eyes looking curiously at him. He lifted her chin and in that moment the sunlight covered her face, making the shimmer on her eyelids more apparent. "Why do your eyelids shimmer?" He asked, eager to know. 

She chuckled and grabbed his hand. "Oh, my dear Finn. It's called 'eye shadow'. It's a powder-like substance you apply to your eyelids. It comes in many different colors. The one I have now has these little crystals that make my eyes shimmer!" 

She explained to him the best she could. Old Norse didn't have words for glitter or makeup. But it seems he understood what she was trying to explain. He then asked about her eyelashes and she explained what mascara did. She enjoyed his childlike curiosity. 

~

After her study session with Finn, Kassandra went back to her room. There, she found Rebekah, who was rummaging through her closet. Kassie sighed softly before clearing her throat. Bekah spared her a glance but continued looking through her clothes. 

"What are you doing?" Kassie asked as she took a blouse from Bekah's hand and put it back on the hanger. 

"These are cute," Bekah said as she held up a pair of boots. "Can I borrow them sometime?" 

"Rebekah." 

Her sister sighed and jumped on her bed. Kassie followed and sat next to her sister. Bekah was playing with the sheets of the bed and some of the sunlight caught her golden heart-shaped ring, the one that matched Kassie's silver one. Kassie took hold of Bekah's hand. 

"What is it?" Kassie asked softly. 

"Mother is planning a ball, you know that?" Bekah said and Kassie furrowed her brows. Why was she always the last person in this family to find things out?

"Ok, and?"

Bekah gave her a look and rolled her eyes. She dramatically threw her hand in the air. "And? Well, we need some ball gowns, obviously. And you have none in your closet."

"So? We'll just go shopping. Plus, it will be a good bonding experience, seeing as we haven't spoken properly in over 90 years." Kassie remarked as she got up from the bed and started putting all the clothes back into the closet.

"Why is she even making a ball in the first place?" Kassie asked. 

"I don't know. Something about family bonding and healing old wounds, I wasn't really listening." Bekah said, looking at her nails. 

Kassie chuckled at her sister's snarky comment. She missed this; Rebekah was always a breath of fresh air, especially amongst their male-dominant family. She and Kassie were like two peas in a pod, you could not find one without the other. The two girls were only 14 months apart and in many ways, they thought of each other as twins who were supposed to be born together but were separated long before their creation.

"I missed you." Kassie blurted out before she could stop herself. She jumped back on the bed, grabbed Bekah's hand, and looked at her ring as she poured her heart out. 

"I missed your snarky comments. I missed your fashion advice. I missed you helping me with my hair. I had no one to confide in when Klaus got on my nerves...I was alone, for decades. It was horrible, Bex." Kassie confessed tearfully. 

Rebekah said nothing, for her own throat was tight and she herself was on the verge of tears. She pulled Kassie into a tight hug and they just held each other for what felt like hours. After a while, she pulled back and wiped off a tear from Kassie's cheek.

"No more crying. Now, how about that dress shopping?" Bekah suggested, trying to lighten the situation. 

Kassie sniffled and smiled.

The two sisters spent the entire afternoon shopping for the perfect ball gown. Once they settled on the ones they liked, they drove back home. Then, Finn informed them that Mother wanted to speak with Kassandra. In private.

Kassie was surprised but surmised it wasn't that odd. Her mother hadn't seen her in over 1000 years; it was natural a mother wanted to spend some time alone with her youngest child. She made her way to Mother's room. She knocked and slowly opened the door. She was met with the sight of her mother, now with shorter hair and dressed in modern clothing, standing over a table. 

There was a smell in the air; something herbal, Kassie concluded. She stood there, waiting for her mother to speak. "Mother?" She said after a while. Her mother turned, and Kassie saw she was holding a bundle of dried herbs. 

"It's just sage. For privacy, so that the others can't eavesdrop." Mother said calmly. 

She gestured for Kassie to sit down and she did. On one hand, Kassie was happy that her entire family was back together; it's just, that she never expected her mother to return. In all honesty, she was fine with her mother being dead. Yes, she was aware of how horrible that sounded. But in her defense, her mother conspired with their father to kill Kassie and her siblings, and then Mother turned them into blood-sucking monsters. No one could blame her for having a difficult relationship with her parents. 

"Why did you call me here?" Kassie asked as Mother sat down next to her. 

"I haven't seen my precious little girl in over 10 centuries. I just wanted to talk to you a bit about your life. Is that such a crime?" Mother said and then asked how the dress shopping went. 

"Um...fine. I chose a blue one. Bex chose a green one." Kassie replied awkwardly.

"Good, good. And who will you bring to the dance?" Mother inquired.

Kassie gave her a confused look.

"You know... as your date, as the people now say."

"Oh...Um, no one."

"No one? Kassandra, darling, you're a beautiful girl! It would be such a shame for you to be all alone." Mother commented, gently touching her knee. Kassie squirmed slightly in her seat. 

"Mother, I've been in this place for only a month. I don't know anyone good enough to invite them as my date." Kassie retorted.

"That's because you guard your heart like a fortress and let no one in. Daughter, it's been 900 years. Let him go." Mother told her gently.

Kassandra looked at her mother in disbelief. How could she say such a thing? Kassie felt confused beyond belief. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. 

"Excuse me? Let him go? The love of my life? My husband? You want me to let him go? Are...Do you hear yourself?"

"Kassandra, dear...You've been pining after him for centuries. You've been holding on to this false sense of hope and nothing good came of it. Get over him and continue living your life." 

"...Get over him? Are you mad!? Hope is the only thing that has kept me going. How could you say such a thing?" 

Her mother gave her a look of pity and Kassie could not bear it. She got up and paced across the room. "So this is why you called me here? To open old wounds and hurt me even more?" She accused, feeling rage coil inside her like an angry viper.

"Of course not! As your mother all I want is for you to be happy! You've wasted centuries searching for him and to no avail. You need to let him go." Mother said as she grabbed Kassie's hand. 

"If you truly were my mother, you would know how much I loved him and how much he meant to me. There is no peace, no happiness without him. I lost him centuries ago, but I still have faith. I know he will come back to me." She rebuked tearfully, pulling away from her mother. 

She glared at her mother but decided it was not worth arguing anymore. She stormed out of the stuffy room and slammed the door behind her.

~

Elijah was in his study when a loud bang echoed through the house. Suspecting Klaus and Kol or even Rebekah broke something, he walked out into the hallway to inspect what happened. To his surprise, he saw Kassandra storming down the stairs and out of the house. 

"Kassandra!" He called for her but she ignored him. He followed her outside and kept calling her. She got inside her car and he sped over to her before she could take off. He knocked on the window. She sighed but still lowered it. 

"Little dove, what happened? What upset you?" He asked, genuinely concerned for his little girl.

"Get in the car." She commanded. "I said. Get. In. The. Car." She repeated herself after she noticed his silent confusion.

He did as she said, not wanting to upset her further. She wanted to talk, or she wouldn't have invited him. Once he was in the car, she hit the pedal and drove them deep into the forest surrounding Mystic Falls.

~

Multiple times throughout the drive, he tried asking her what happened but she did not answer. A silent fury was brewing inside her, one that would not be silent for long. Tears kept on spilling down her face, blurring her vision, and all Elijah wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her, just like when she was a little girl. But she was grown, no matter how hard he tried to ignore that.

Shortly after crossing Wickery Bridge, she made a sudden stop in the middle of the road. Quickly unbuckling her safety belt, she opened the car door, intending to get out, but Elijah stopped her. With a soft hand, he pulled her back into her seat. Refusing to meet his eye, she kept her gaze away from him, staring through the window. Putting her hands on the steering wheel, she gripped it, needing something to ground her.

"Am I a fool?" She whispered, still not meeting his eye.

"What do you mean?" Elijah asked softly.

"Am I a fool for wanting to believe he will come back to me, and that in the end, I was not wrong in upholding my faith in him?" She clarified and Elijah knew immediately whom she was talking about.

"And why would you think such a thing?" He inquired.

She shook her head, too upset to verbalize her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she told Elijah about her 'talk' with their mother. 

"She said that I need to let him go...that I need to get over him...How-how could she say that?" 

"Kassandra-"

"Ugh, why didn't she just stay dead!?" Kassie yelled, hitting the steering wheel, and stormed out of the car. Elijah followed suit.

She paced alongside the car, her hands in her hair, while she tried steadying her breathing. She was losing control, she could sense it. Soon, she would spiral. All the negative feelings she had been harboring for Klaus and now her Mother, resurfaced. Then, she screamed in frustration and kicked a nearby tree, making the entire trunk shake. Elijah was by her side in a second and grabbed her shoulders.

"Doll, listen to me. Breathe. Calm down." 

"Wh-why are they hurting me?" She asked while grabbing his arms, her throat tightening. Elijah didn't seem to understand. 

"M-Mother and Klaus. Why are they hurting me? Always s-saying m-mean things to me and hurting my f-feelings..." She stammered, her voice breaking. 

She sounded so childlike and innocent. Elijah swallowed hard and gently took hold of her head. Kassie looked at him, her eyes wide and glossy, her face covered in tears. Her lower lips quivered as she asked "Don't they love m-me?" At that moment, she looked and sounded like a scared little girl craving validation and affection.

"Of course they do." He answered quickly. 

"I know he is alive Elijah, I know he is. In my heart and in my bones I know it. If he was d-dead...I would feel it, surely. If he were dead, I would die too." She insisted and Elijah had never heard her speak with so much conviction. 

Before he could respond, she removed herself from his arms. She turned around, looking up at the waning sun. God, she was angry. So, so, so angry. Vampirism only heightened her emotions, and now her rage was feeding into her bloodlust, making her hungrier than usual. Usually, she was able to keep it under control, to subdue the urge to kill and devour. But right now, Kassie could feel the grip she had on her passions slowly fading away.

In a desperate attempt to distract herself from the hunger, she started harshly scratching her bare shoulders and forearms, so hard she started drawing blood; though the wounds immediately healed. Her sharp nails pierced her skin, leaving behind a stinging sensation. Maybe if she focused on the pain, she would forget about the bloodlust.

"Kassandra, stop! Stop hurting yourself!" Elijah reprimanded with a raised voice, something he rarely did with her. 

He grabbed her hands and held them tightly. She squirmed in his arms, trying to free herself but he didn't let her go. Instead, he turned her around and pulled her closer. Her back hit his chest and he wrapped his arms around her middle. She thrashed and screamed and the sounds broke Elijah's heart. 

"Kassandra, please-" Elijah begged but his pleas were not heard. Kassie dug her sharp nails into his hands. He hissed in pain. If she continued like this, he would have to snap her neck. He decided he needed to reason with her, but, it was also obvious to Elijah that she had a lot of pent-up anger and it was crucial she let it all out.

Then, he pinned her up against a tree and pulled her arms behind her back. She screamed in anguish and at this point her true face was fully on display. Her long fangs were bared as she hissed in his face. Her face was twisted in anger, her red eyes stared at him. 

"Kassandra, listen to me. I understand you are angry and hurt. I know, better than anyone, how it feels to lose the love of your life. But you need to calm down. This is not you. You cannot let anger control you. You are better than this."

At these words, she stopped fighting him and seemed to relax in his arms. The fangs and black veins were gone, and her blue irises reappeared. She stared at him confused. 

"Lijah?" She uttered his name and just by her voice he could tell she was back to normal. Once the blindfold of rage was lifted from her eyes and she realized what happened, guilt overwhelmed her. She sank to her knees and wept as she tried apologizing. 

"I'm s-sorry...I'm s-so sorry, Lijah, I-I don't know what h-happened to me." She sobbed. 

"My sweet girl." He whispered as he crouched next to her and got down to her level. She threw herself in his arms. He shed a few tears himself.  

"Where's Elijah?" Klaus asked as he walked into the living room. He was out for most of the day and when he visited Elijah's study he was not there. Kassandra was also nowhere to be found. 

"He went after Kassie," Rebekah informed him as she filed her nails. 

"Went after her? Well, where is she? What happened?" Klaus asked. 

"Something happened with Kassie. I didn't see anything but I heard Elijah calling for her and then they stormed out of the house. I'm assuming it had something to do with her talk with Mother." Rebekah replied. 

Klaus hummed. What could their Mother say to hurt Kassie so much she stormed out of the house? There was only one thing that came to mind. He needed to make sure their Mother kept quiet.

~

They were now in the car and this time, Elijah was driving. She was in the passenger seat, looking out the window, her head tilted. The moon was rising and its light illuminated her tear-stricken face.

The car was silent. Neither of them spoke. Guilt and shame washed over her in continuous waves as she replayed her breakdown in her mind. She hurt Elijah, her favorite brother. The one person on this Earth who was always there for her. She sank deeper into her seat, covered her face with her hand, and wept silently. 

Almost like he was reading her mind, Elijah spoke up. "I'm not angry at you, Kassandra. I do not begrudge you."

She shook her head. This had nothing to do with his forgiveness because it did not matter. This was about her consciousness eating at her and her sense of shame for what she had done. His forgiveness did not make it any easier.

"I think death would've been easier than this...Cursed existence."

Elijah said nothing, but she knew he agreed.

Taglist: @ashaluuler

[calabria-mediterranea]

Pietra Cappa: The most famous monolith in Calabria, Italy and the highest in Europe

Pietra Cappa (its name apparently derives from the idea of “inverted cup”, referring to the cavity inside the stone) is a huge boulder, 140 metres high, that stands out as one of the highest monoliths in Europe.

According to recent studies, many geologists believe that its rounded shape was molded by the action of the last ice age which made it very similar to a panettone (Italian Christmas Bread)! The huge rock became the symbol of the Aspromonte Geopark, carrying the charm of an unspoilt landscape and the mystery of the legends about its origins.

Stories aside, the fascination of this place is indisputable. You find yourself surrounded by dense vegetation, characterized by heather, mastic, myrtle, strawberry tree, chestnut, holm oak, mint and oregano. A dream panorama that frames the monolith, which overlooks the Ionian sea. As if all this were not enough to give an idea of the beauty of the place, you can also admire the centuries-old chestnut trees known as Giants of San Giorgio. No sign of human passage or almost. Only the Byzantine columns and walls of what remains of the Church of San Giorgio located on the path are found.

"I first met Pietra Cappa by chance in the very early 80s. I must have been 25 or so. As regional manager of the WWF, I was in Gerace.

One morning we reached the road that leads from Montalto to the town of San Luca. We began the long descent towards the town. That's how I saw her in the distance, on the left. An enormous rock head buried on a buttress cloaked in oak woods. We passed by the Rocks of St. Peter, where there is the famous skull-shaped asceterium, now very photographed, which must have been the chapel of a laura or a community of Byzantine hermits.

There we met Sebastiano Codispoti, the shepherd who owned a flock of goats in a stable under the Rocks. He lived there alone. From time to time he went down to the village of Natile where he had his family, whose friendship I would later be honored by. Sebastiano played a double reed flute that he built himself, carved wood, made cheese, was gentle, hospitable, generous with anyone who passed by. He removed a handkerchief from inside his shirt in which he jealously kept an ancient coin. Looking at her moved, he told a story of kings and queens who lived in Pietra Cappa as if it had happened a few years earlier. And then we climbed along paths on the other side where the stone appeared to us in all its majesty: 829 meters above sea level, according to the maps, on a circular base that runs around 700 metres, for a circumnavigation of just under a kilometre." @Francesco Bevilacqua

Vintage photos by Francesco Bevilacqua

Follow us on Instagram, @calabria_mediterranea

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Genuine question: you often talk about the West as if Greece wasn't Western and that leaves me in doubt… isn't it Western? I always see Greece referred to as such, so I figured it was. Like, I imagine there must be some details that don't completely fit into Western molds, but in general, isn't Greece Western and is it even considered one of the main origins of the West?

Hii! This is a very good question for someone who needs context!

In summary: Greece is not exactly Western. In fact, it has more things in common with countries that are considered Eastern. Greece definitely wasn't that "Western" in ancient times compared to the rest of the countries that are considered definitely Western today. Also, Europe has taken some stuff from Greece but most things it took are not Greek in culture, meaning they don't relate to us and we don't relate to them.

But from someone who's not from our general region and has little idea about our culture, there needs to be a big explanation, so all I have to say is:

Disclaimer 1: Let's appoint the US, the UK, and Germany as some examples of "definitely western" countries, as a guide. They are surely considered Western due to their geography and history.

Disclaimer 2: I'll speak in very broad terms about nationalities. In no way this is an attack on individuals who live in these countries. The statements are meant to be political and capture generic national sentiments. For example, the sentence "historically the Greeks don't like the Turks" doesn't mean that Greeks and Turks haven't lived (and continue) to live in peace under certain circumstances.

Everything exists within proper context and even I am using "Western" in a specific context. What is called "Western" today is a standard created by the European countries of Western Europe. And it doesn't make sense cause there are no clear limits between cultures. It's all a gradient, as I said in the past.

I also don't like how by "Western" we imply "progressive and technologically advanced". I haven't seen people fight about whether Albania is Western, although it's more Western than Greece geographically.

In fact, many a time I've seen maps like the one below isolate Greece and put it in the Western category but so many nations right above and west of Greece are not Western?? Notice how they show "West" = "pre-colonial/colonial nations/global empires (what I refer to as "the West" in my posts) + Greece" 😂 (Usually Turkey is also excluded, so I won't comment too much on that right now.) I mean... isn't this whole presentation... weird?? It's not even based on who is a NATO ally and who's not.

Greece is one of the most eastern European countries. Greeks existed in Minor Asia for thousands of years (Asian Greeks baby!) and we literally are right next to where Asia begins. Our capital for almost a thousand years was Constantinople which is in modern Turkiye, and Greeks still make pilgrimage there.

Our differences with the countries posing as the of the West are far greater than they want you to believe. The reason is that the western European powerful nations still want to claim the ancient Greek stuff as the basis of their national identity, and to do so they have to lump us in with their own kind. Only very recently they got "gracious" enough to do that. For most of history they claimed all things ancient Greek for themselves buuut they saw Greeks as "fallen from glory" and "mixed" and "these can't be the descendants of the ancients we admire!" (They had idealised our ancestors a looot in their minds, and by their own NW European standards) That's why maps such as the above exist.

The cultural divide in ancient times was much larger. We were kissing with tongue with Persians, Palestinians, Phoenicians and Lower Egyptians. The battle with Persians wasn't - as today west Europeans and the US want to frame it as a battle between East and West. The Persians were our freaking neighbours! 😂 Our cultures were - and still are - very similar. (Food, music, expression/openness, social politeness, phrasing)

Then came the old Rome, then came the Renaissance, and in these periods Western Europe got a bit more influenced by Greek aesthetics, for sure. But as I said the divide was greater when speaking about ancient times. Okay, our neighbors on the Italian and Iberian peninsula would be more like us, but the Germanic, Anglo-Saxon, Celtic, Norse, and Danish tribes were quite unrelated to the Greeks culturally. Even half of Italy (the Northern part) today don't see us as neighbors, because they are closer to other nations by land. (verified this with some friends abroad)

To go back to why I usually exclude Greece from "Western": "Western" is a standard term that former (and modern) colonial powers have created and choose to identify themselves and others with (if they deem them "worthy enough").

As I said, the term can be synonymous with power and progress, but it ignores powerful countries such as India, China, Japan, Korea, Saudi Arabia, and Iran which have greater industries and more power than Greece. (This is a 2017 map but it still holds, I feel😂) Notice that Greece is not even at the bottom.

Greeks also often feel we don't fit the Western mold. Usually, however, they use the term "European" to substitute the "Western" term but in our minds it's the same thing. Additionally, most Greeks growing up - especially with the rise of communication with other Balkanians through the internet - realise that we have most things in common with our geographical neighbours. The video below is an example of that.

So, why don't we feel that European/Western?

As I mentioned in the beginning, Europe is not Greek in culture. Few of the things West Europe took from us were partly influenced by the cultural climate at the time (like philosophy and the three-act structure of theater). What about the rest? What do trigonometry and astronomy and people voting have to do with one's culture? I mean are people supposed to understand my culture through functions and equations, or the 5th century BCE aesthetics of the human body?

(And to answer your question, no. They have no idea how our names, words, culture food, and music have been. They often confuse clearly Latin words with Greek words, and that's the pinnacle of their interaction with our culture😂)

We have more in common with Turks, Persians and Lebanese than we have with Germans and Swedes. Because Middle Easterners and Northeast Africans have been our neighbors for millennia. To further demonstrate the point, Greeks in Northwestern Europe feel more comfortable with Arabs, Turks, Persians and Indians than with anyone else. And they don't vibe with the Northwestern locals that much because the Greek culture is not close to theirs. (That's a generalization of course but you can't imagine how many Greeks I've heard stating that)

I don't find it unreasonable for someone to lump Greece with the Western countries because that's where our allies are at the moment. As a nation, we look to Western nations for infrastructure (Although it doesn't work too well for us sometimes because the compatibility isn't there. Like the EU gives us money to plant certain trees that are not good for our climate and how often shit catches fire here). And, of course, sometimes Greece happens to be… geographically western than many countries. So in this case "western" also applies.

At the same time, someone should bear in mind that Greece has existed under the pressure-ehhh influence of Western European nations for a long time. After the fifteenth century, they've been stealing our artifacts, fetishizing our struggles, not listening to our people in Greek cultural characteristics (such as the language), noting our "unattractive" looks (and skin sometimes) etc. I mean, they still do all of this stuff sooo… how are we supposed to feel comfortable in the same group as them?

Add the Turkish occupation from 500-600 years so there's additional Islamic and Middle Eastern influence, and cultural exchange from Greeks and towards Greeks in the Ottoman Empire.

There's also the matter of religion and East Europe is religiously and - to a large degree - culturally Orthodox. This plays a larger part in the cultural divide between West and East Europe. In fact, religion played a big part, a thousand years ago, in the schism between west and east Europe.

This difference in cultures, and the dismissive attitude of the West towards Greeks and other East Europeans, shows from Charlemagne's time. A thousand years ago and more, West Europeans were calling Greeks (and generally Eastern Romans/ Byzantines) barbarians and degenerates. Greece has been orientalised a lot in Western art over the past few centuries.

The first colonial "stock company" in History was in the Byzantine/Hellenic island of Chios in the 14th century, established by Genoese occupiers! The island was managed by a monopoly share-charter "Company", Maona. The Company held the monopoly of the world's unique Chiot mastic, as well as control of the import and export trade, while many locals became slave-workers. The "Latins" (Genoese) took hundreds of buildings and homes for themselves. Later the Maona company expanded in Cyprus.

It had come to a point where Greeks and Byzantines in general preferred to be conquered by the Turks rather than the Latins (Francs, Venetians, Genoese). You can find the full history of this conflict in this article.

One should also bear in mind Greeks have been through slavery on a national level (called "chattel" too), and faced oppression, assimilation, and genocide. What I mean is: If someone is representative of the Western Powers…. that's not us 😂 We only play pretend. We are not the ones making the rules or decisions. For example, our PM asked the state of Israel (with which we are supposedly allies under Western contracts) to not harm the Greeks in Gaza, then the Greek Orthodox temple was bombed and our Western allies didn't give a shit.

Greece smiles and nods along so it can sit at the table with the Big Boys. It's not a Big Boy and I doubt it'll ever be for a long time. It can't turn towards the East (because Turkey, the old political and religious enemy) so it turns towards the West. And it has become an obedient puppy of the US and Germany. And if we refuse to play pretend, there's always some type of punishment. I won't absolve our country from all political responsibility. I'm just saying that we usually lack the power for things to go our way.

The reason for our nation's existence is the Western colonial powers (in Greece we call them the Big Powers) wanting to destabilise the Ottoman empire. They didn't give a shit about the Greek state existing. I mean sure they appreciated having one more pawn in the area, but they mainly wanted the Ottoman power to dwindle. The Big Powers gave and took land from us as they saw fit, for their own interests. (They did the same with other nations, too, of course). Our country's debt to the Big Powers started before our nation formed when they sold us half-ruined ships for a very high price.

(Although our debt became significantly worse after 2009, when our people gave money to stabilise their banks.)

So I ask again, how is a Greek - politically and socially - to feel comfortable in the Western group? Especially when we have actual neighbors in the Balkans and the Middle East who are almost like us culture-wise? And, don't East nations have Mathematics and Philosophy and Democracy (most at least) and Theatre and Astrophysics? In the study of things coming from Greece they have nothing to envy from the West. They were studying this stuff waaaay earlier, too!

So the argument of "who has taken the most from Greece" is purely political because if we actually measured, our neighbors are the ones who have the most similarities to us. (Yes, the political and social corruption rates too, as I've been told 😂)

Not to mention there can be found colonial/imperial attitudes from Western European nations which Greece cannot identify with. Except for the obvious neo-colonialism and the pressure to have more military bases on our grounds, there are more.

Some of these attitudes are; refusing to communicate in English, refusing to use subtitles and insisting on watching everything dubbed, straight up altering the names of foreign colleagues to appeal to them more, nitpicking on shades of white and what shade of white is "bad", having the impression that the world is as safe and comfortable as their own country, only getting you out of second class in their minds when you start speaking their language fluently exhibiting one of the highest forms of assimilation, treating East European cultures like an exhibition or a theme park.

Don't be mistaken, the use of language is a power play. Greece also has colorism, but the NW nations take it to another level, trust. It would kill them to admit they might have the same skin tone as someone from China, whereas the Greeks (although not void of racism) wouldn't think to compare the skin tones as different. And they don't categorize slightly darker peoples compared to theirs as another "race" entirely.

I know I rumbled again but there are many things to consider when it comes to Greece's position on the map that's not limited to geography. I also want to put many disclaimers and explanations around because someone away from our area is missing context, and they might misinterpret our notions through their own lens. Hopefully, my answer covered the main points and gave a better picture of our identification.

[honesty-my-policy]

As promised @bright-honey

Quick timeline for you.

6000 BCE: First fortified settlement at Ugarit 4000 BCE: Founding of the city of Sidon 4000 BCE - 3000 BCE: Trade contact between Babylos and Egypt 2900 BCE - 2300 BCE: First settlement of Baalbek 2750 BCE: The City of Tyre is founded 1458 BCE: Kadesh and Megiddo lead a Canaanite alliance against the Egyptian invasion by Thutmose III 1274 BCE: Battle of Kadesh between Pharaoh Ramesses II and King Muwatalli II of the Hittites 1250 BCE - 1200 BCE: Hebrew Tribes settle in Canaan 1200 BCE: Sea Peoples invade the Levant (they are important) 1115 BCE - 1076 BCE: Reign of Tiglath-Pileser I of Assyria who conquers Phoenicia and revitalizes the empire 1080 BCE: Rise of the Kingdom of Israel 1000 BCE: Height of Tyre's power 965 BCE - 931 BCE: Solomon is King of Israel 950 BCE: Solomon builds the first Temple of Jerusalem 722 BCE: Israel is conquered by Assyria 351 BCE: Artaxerxes III sacks Sidon 332 BCE: Alexander the Great sacks Baalbek and renames it to Heliopolis 332 BCE: Conquest of the Levant by Alexander the Great who destroys Tyre Jan 332 BCE - Jul 332 BCE: Alexander the Great besieges and conquers Tyre 64 BCE: Tyre becomes a Roman colony 37 BCE - 4 BCE: Reign of Herod the Great over Judea 30 BCE: Egypt becomes a province of the Roman Empire 30 BCE - 476 CE: Egypt remains a province of the Roman Empire 6 BCE - c. 30 CE: Life of Christ 637 CE: Muslim invasion of the Levant. The Byzantines are driven out. 115 CE- 117 CE: Rome occupies Mesopotamia 117 CE - 138 CE: Reign of Roman Emperor Hadrian

We can stop there because that is where the name Palestine comes from. I've omitted a LOT of history here. These are just some main points. Now for some visual aids.

Take these as you will. While archeology evidence has been found to support the Bible, I'm not aware of maps being found but people tend to forget it isn't a document of fiction, real people made it. That being said there is a LOT of evidence of Sea Peoples

The Sea Peoples are very interesting and I highly recommend reading up on them. It has been theorized and is probably true that it wasn't a singular people but different people coming from the sea as different words were used to describe each set that attacked, 8 different versions have been counted so far.

Of the 8, one that has been seen in recorded archeological history was dubbed Peleset or Pulasati. Historians generally identify them with the Philistines - note these are not the same people as Phoenicians according to historians and other experts.

In fact, the first appearance of the term Palestine but in the 5th century BCE and it was by a Greek historian referring to of a district of Syria called Palaistine between Phoenicia and Egypt. This term was used later by other Greek writers and later on by Roman writers. Though, the region was clearly 'Syria' not Palestine. In fact, let's look at a map or two.

So where did Palestine come from? Remember Roman Emperor Hadrian? Yeah, that asshole. Rome had conquered a large chunk of the known world.

The Jews didn't let themselves be conquered sitting down. The Bar Kochba Revolt was actually at the start going well for the Jews but sadly, the Romans took a scorched earth approach to them and it ended with the destruction of the second Temple, as well as renaming the area known as Judea to Palestina to effectively erase all Jewish connections to the land, going so far as naming it after the historical enemies of the Jews.

This is ALL PUBLIC HISTORY.