#considered putting Swindle here but shes not on the blog yet

[knightlymoon]

@crossbowtrades here!

100+ followers milestone

Thank you guys for following this grumpy ice mage~! 🎉

So to celebrate this event, I thought of an art raffle where 3 winners will be chosen randomly and receive a bust or half-body piece of their characters.

However, there is a twist. I granted a temporary special power to Serpentine and he won't hesitate to use it. Since this blog is all about Illagers, non-Illager characters will be transformed into one~!

What you have to do to participate is:

You must follow this blog

Reblog with the reference of your character (only one character per blog / Only Minecraft characters)

The winners will be announced on the 13th of March~!

[oumaheroes]

Congrats on 100+ followers, you deserve it! I love your blog and writing! For the writing-promp, how about some outsider pov fruk?

Reflections

Word Count: 1690

Characters: England, France - FrUK, America, Canada

----

‘It’ll be fun!’

‘No, it won’t.’

‘Yes it will,’ America insists, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen. England’s face through the webcam is decidedly unimpressed.

‘I don’t like house parties,’ he says, but America can hear slight resignation already there in his voice and so pushes again to seal the deal.

‘Please? Come on man, it’ll be great. Right after the G20 meeting in Texas too so there’s no work to worry about; just stay one more day for it. And hey, if you don’t like it you can leave.’

England raises an eyebrow, ‘You invited me to stay withyou.’

America shrugs, unbothered, ‘Then don’t! Or, do- whatever. It’s up to you.’

England sighs and looks conflicted. America seizes the opportunity and goes in for the kill, ‘Everyone else will be there too; you don’t wanna get FOMO.’

‘I don’t get FOMO,’ England snaps, looking affronted, and America instantly knows he’s won, ‘But fine, if it means that much to you, I’ll come.’

America tries to school his face into something that doesn’t look too triumphant, ‘Awesome! Kay, so it��ll be casual, no need to dress up or be all fancy or anything.’

‘Yes yes,’ England waves a hand dismissively and shifts in his chair, ‘I know how a house party works. I do go to some, you know.’

‘Cool cool cool, just making sure.’ America can’t really picture England at the sort of house party he is thinking of, people lounging about on furniture and playing silly drinking games. But it must happen, he supposes- he’s seen England drunk in pubs before and he’s boisterous so it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine him in an even more casual setting.

Suddenly, America notes the darkness of England’s surroundings and checks the clock in the bottom corner of his screen, ‘Hey, it’s getting pretty late for you over there, isn’t it? I should let you go.’

England glances at his wrist, entirely ignoring the PC he’s using, ‘Yes, I suppose so. Okay, likely I’ll see you next month then.’

‘No backsies, you said yes,’ America reminds him.

England rolls his eyes, ‘I meant that I won’t see you until then, I already said I was coming; I’ll come.’

‘Good!’ America moves his mouse to end the call, ‘See you there, old man. Try to be fun.’

‘What is that supposed to-‘

‘Bye!’

----

Canada glances about the room and nods, ‘It’s not bad.’

America reels back, ‘Not bad? Dude-‘ he gestures to the living room they’re in the doorway of and then to the pool outside, both places spilling over with nations chatting and enjoying themselves under the beat of the music, ‘-it’s more than not bad!’

It really was, in his humble opinion, probably one of his best in recent years. Nearly everyone had turned up who said they were going to and there had been a steady flow of conversation and dancing all night. America had scoped the place out every now and again, making rounds through the house to make sure there were no stragglers sitting somewhere on their own but there wasn’t a need for it- things had run smoothly without him needing to intervene and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. This is why he liked house parties, more than any other type of ‘function’. House parties had a more relaxed vibe, where no one felt the need to impress or do themselves up too much (unless you were one of the older ones, that is; it seemed that no matter what you told them they’d still arrive a bit more formally dressed than everyone else, as if they had some sort of inbuilt compulsion).

Things going so well was probably helped, too, by the fact that America had only invited friends and family. One, because inviting the entire world and putting them in one place anywhere would always result in some form of argument, but also because this was his house and he didn’t want it to get trashed, (regardless of what England had groused when he first arrived and had seen the condition of the place).

Canada shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, ‘I’ve been to better.’

America frowns, disappointed, before jostling his arm playfully when he notices the small, guilty shift of Canada’s eye, ‘Stop messing with me.’

Canada grins behind his cup and nudges him back, ‘Well, no one’s dead yet. That’s always good.’

‘Amen to that,’ America raises his glass in a toast which Canada meets and downs the rest of his drink, ‘Want a refill?’

‘Sure.’

‘Come on then, I ain’t your servant.’

Canada gives him a flat look but wordlessly follows America out of the living room and through to the kitchen. Australia’s there with Mexico, digging about in the lower cupboards for something and Denmark is showing Japan a video on his phone that’s making Japan’s eyes go almost unnaturally wide.

‘Alfred mate, what happened to those Tim Tams you promised me?’ Australia stands up from his crouch on the floor and looks at America reproachfully, ‘I feel swindled.’

America opens his mouth to speak but Canada cuts in first, ‘I hid them.’

America turns to him in confusion, ‘Why?’

‘Zea asked me to, seeing as they couldn’t come. Something about what you did to them at Christmas?’

Australia throws up his hands and scoffs, ‘Jesus fuck, when will they get over that. Where are did you put them? Come on, don’t be a dick, I promised Mexico some.’

Mexico shrugs delicately, ‘I don’t really care, to be honest. I just heard they were bad and wanted to see how bad.’

Australia looks down at her scandalised, ‘Who told you that?!’

She readjusts to sit properly on the floor, ‘People.’

‘Yeah, sorry, I’ll get them.’ Canada’s job has been carried out to the minimum requirement and America knows that he’s happy that he can now take himself out of the silly argument New Zealand and Australia have slyly pulled him into. He goes out of the kitchen, leaving his empty cup behind, and America follows him curiously through the hallway in the direction of the study.

‘What did Australia do to Zea at Christmas?’ America has missed out on England’s most recent yearly family function; he’d wanted to go surfing with Hawaii instead.

‘Don’t ask,’ Canada says tiredly, the air of an older sibling who had seen far too much. America is offended Canada hasn’t told him already. He opens his mouth to say as much when Canada goes to open the slightly ajar study door before stopping abruptly in the doorway, causing America to almost crash into him.

‘Hey, what-‘ Canada hurriedly squeezes America’s arm and tugs him sharply away in a warning for quiet, catching his eye before glancing into the room meaningfully. America peers around him into the study, wondering what he’s seen.

At first, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be looking at; it looks empty. The main study light is off, leaving the room lit only by one table lamp by the sofa that casts a warm, buttery glow about the place, softening the corners with shadows. He looks to Canada for help and Canada tilts his head in the direction of the French doors, eyebrows raised.

America follows his gaze and understands. The darkness outside has turned the glass to mirrors, reflecting the front of the old sofa that America could previously only see the back of. On it are England and France, curled up together with France’s head on England’s chest and England propped against the armrest, one knee brought up high for him to rest an elbow on. He has his other hand in France’s hair and is gently running his fingers through it, long languid strokes that feel entirely too intimate for America to process.

It’s a strange thing for him to see. He has accidentally caught England and France doing other things throughout his life but intimacy isn’t really something they display. They argue. They bicker. They fight and scream and laugh, sometimes, but they do not do this in front of other people, this gentleness. Neither of the two are what anyone could ever consider gentle, even France, for all his intentional touches and flirtations -the soft ghost of his hand on a shoulder or resting warm around a waist- are not this, not personal. France is very free with his physical affections but they are shallow things, meaningless and ordinary. There is something removed and detached about how he moves amongst crowds, gathering himself close about someone to brush against them as he stands that speaks of friendliness yes, but not closeness. Nothing special to note.

But here, curled on a sofa and unaware they are being watched, there are no guards up or cold pretences between them, just a natural, domestic openness that America finds oddly normal, for how little he has seen glimpses of it. England and France together are many things, have experienced every extreme and mundane state possible for two people to experience, and this side of them is just another shade, as hard as it is to find.

France tips his head back more and opens his eyes, crinkling their corners as he murmurs something low under the muted music that causes England’s lips to twitch into a rare, open smile. They could be anyone then, just two people on a sofa, young and mellow, and for a split-second America can’t see them as anything else. The warm mood hides their identity and blurs their age- familiar strangers tucked away on their own.

America jumps, startled, when Canada nudges him, an elbow into his side and he turns to find his brother gesturing with his head back into the hallway.

He agrees. America knows both England and France would be mortified to be caught like this, boneless and out of character around the person they often so openly despise, so it’s best to leave them as they are undisturbed.

Australia can wait, America will squeeze the truth out of Canada about Christmas and maybe take Zea’s side just for fun.

----

AN:

Sorry for the wait anon, but I hope you see this and I hope that you like! Thanks for the ask and for your kind words, this was a lovely prompt and I really liked thinking about how I could do this justice ;u;

<3

[searchingwardrobes]

My Problems with Once and Adoption/Foster Care

Ya’ll know I love this show, and I love the character of Emma Swan. BUT . . . their portrayal of adoption and foster care - particularly the adults who care for these children - leaves much to be desired. The thing that especially saddens me are those in the fandom who buy into their portrayal without question. I recently started another fic that throws adoption agencies under the bus. I don’t fully fault writer’s. After all, the source material is flawed, and we all want to write Emma in character. However, I just hope I can give you another perspective.

Why in the world am I qualified to talk about this? Well, let’s see . . .

* My cousin fostered to adopt all three of her children, two of them brothers.

* My sister pursued adoption for several years before deciding to embrace being, as she puts it, “the best aunt ever” instead.

* My best friend waited ten years to adopt her precious daughter. She went through the heartbreak of caring for her first child - a son - until his birth mother changed her mind at the last minute before the adoption was final. 

* We have a close family friend who is like an “extra grandma” to my kids and her adult daughter was adopted at birth. 

* My sister in law and her brother are adopted.

* My husband’s youngest brother and sister were officially adopted by his dad after he married their mom.

* Another close friend of mine adopted her twelve year old daughter from The Philippines two years ago. She was born with her mouth fused shut, no feet, and no hands. I tutored this little girl for a year, and I love her to death! 

* A friend of mine who is now in her sixties put her daughter up for adoption when she became pregnant at fourteen. The girl found her as an adult, and they have now forged a relationship.

* Another friend of mine is fostering her niece while her sister is in rehab. Right now, it looks like it may become permanent.

This isn’t even an exhaustive list of all the people I know who have fostered and adopted. These all span multiple locations as well.  I know it’s not the same as going through it myself, but all of the above people are dear to me and it hurts me deeply to see their way of life misrepresented. 

So here are just a few things that I want to point out concerning the plot on Once:

1. Domestic infant adoption in the US varies state to state, but it basically goes like this:

* If a birth mother decides to pursue an adoption while she is still pregnant, it is HER decision who gets her baby. If she goes through an agency (most common), she will get to look through profiles of potential adoptive parents. This is important to remember, PLEASE! The birth mother chooses the parents, not the other way around. If it’s a private adoption, she usually finds out about the parents through friends, family, or acquaintances, but the choice is still hers. Therefore, if Emma had decided to put Henry up for adoption before he was born, as the show implies, she would have been the one to pick Regina out as his adoptive mom. 

* The birth mother can decide to meet the birth parents or never meet them. The birth mother has the right to ask for financial assistance for everything from maternity clothes to counseling after she gives the baby up. The only thing illegal is the mother can’t “sell” her baby. In other words, she can’t make a profit off the adoption.

* The birth mother also gets to decide if it is a closed adoption, semi open, or completely open. Even in a closed adoption, the child has the right to the birth parent’s medical records when they come of age. Open adoptions are on a scale. Some birth mothers attend birthday parties and have regular visitation. Others let the child decide on contact when they reach a certain age. Sometimes they send letters each year on the child’s birthday. There are dozens of arrangements the birth mother can come to with the birth parents, and it all gets spelled out in a legal document.

* The only time an infant is placed in foster care is if the birth mother decides after birth that she doesn’t want the child. This is always temporary. Infants are either returned to the birth parents or are adopted. THERE IS NO GROWING UP FROM INFANCY IN FOSTER CARE! Now, a child can be taken away from their birth home at a later date due to neglect, drug abuse, etc. But no kid is born into foster care. There are thousands of parents in the US waiting for an infant to adopt, more than there are babies to adopt. That’s why it took my best friend TEN YEARS to find her daughter. That’s why when a baby was abandoned at the Atlanta airport a few years back, hundreds of parents called family services wanting the child. The boy had a home (which became permanent) within 48 hours. There is no way a healthy, beautiful baby girl like Emma would have been put in that group home like we saw in season two. At worst, she would have been placed with foster parents temporarily until the waiting period was over. (See below)

* After the infant is given over to the birth parents, there is a waiting period. During that time, the birth mother can change her mind. This varies wildly from state to state. Here in Georgia, it’s two weeks. In Pennsylvania, where my best friend lives, it is an entire month. On day 30, my best friend had to give her son back to his birth mother. I can not convey to you the pain she endured. Having said that, I’m glad birth mothers have the freedom to change their minds. I would never want to go back to the 1950s when babies were ripped from the arms of their devastated mothers who were given no say in the matter. On a side note, some adoptive parents opt to let the baby go to a temporary foster home until the waiting period is over so they don’t go through heartbreak if the birth mother changes her mind. My next door neighbors chose that route when they adopted their daughter, but remember in Georgia, that’s only two weeks. With my best friend, she felt a month was too long and she was willing to love on that child even if it was only for a month. 

* Even after the waiting period is over, the adoption is not official until the parents stand before a judge. Legally speaking, this is more binding than birthing a biological child. In other words, there is no going back. No returning the child. No exchanges. No refunds. Which brings me to . . . 

THE SWANS GIVING EMMA BACK: If Emma was legally adopted, this would be impossible. She states that she was three when it happened, making it even less credible to me. The only way this would make sense is if they were foster parents who never legally adopted her. It is true that foster parents sometimes decide to stop fostering when they have biological children, but adoption? Nope. (Not to mention the show later claimed that Emma chose the last name Swan herself when she was 9 or 10, so .  . . )

2. The cost of adoption:

* I don’t know where the idea comes from that it’s expensive for a birth mother to give her baby up for adoption. The adoptive parents pay for everything, as I stated above, or at the very least, they pay the medical bills. This doesn’t mean it’s EASY for a mother to give up her baby. Props to Jen for portraying Emma’s agony so well in season three! However, just because something is difficult doesn’t mean it isn’t the best decision for the CHILD. Obviously, my friend who is now in her sixties was unable to care for a child at 14, when she was a child herself! She was thrilled to hear her birth daughter tell her about the happy home she was raised in. Like Emma tells Henry, birth mother’s give their children up “to give them their best chance.” It is a selfless decision.

* It IS expensive to adopt - for the adoptive parents. There are legal fees, fees for home inspections (which expire and have to be redone yearly), travel fees, medical fees (not only maternity for the birth mother, but physicals for them, their children, and even their pets), and then additional fees if they are paying an agency. This is a simplified list, honestly. A friend of mine had a blog when she was adopting her sons from Ethiopia, and her list of paperwork that had to be filed was mind-boggling. 

RUMPLE ARRANGING HENRY’S ADOPTION: Considering all of the above, it had to be an illegal, black market adoption. That does exist  -however, it’s usually foreign, not domestic. Nine times out of ten, however, they just swindle couples who are desperate to adopt. But you know, Once writers . . .  

3. The reasons parents adopt or foster:

* Inability to conceive - this has to be number one. It’s the reason my best friend adopted, and it’s the reason my sister pursued it for so long. One sad thing? The most common reason for infertility is a disease called polycystic ovarian syndrome. One of the symptoms is weight gain, regardless of diet or exercise. Yet guess what many countries require for you to adopt? A “healthy” BMI. Meaning women with PCOS have an even harder time adopting.

* Compassion for orphans - This is why my friends adopted their daughter from the Philippines. They have two biological children, but when they thought about the millions of orphans in the world, they felt led to share their home and family with a child who did not have one. I know several people who foster for the same reason. They aren’t doing it for a “check from the government.” (And fyi, the government gives them most of that “money” in the form of food stamps and other public benefits that often only covers the bare minimum.)

* A need in their family - My friend who took in her niece had just come upon her “empty nest years,” but she couldn’t look the other way when a three year old little girl was being neglected because of her mother’s addictions. She and her husband were then back to pull ups (the mother hadn’t even attempted potty training), preschool cartoons, and teaching the ABCs. Their niece also had spent so much time in an exersaucer that her legs were crippled and she still couldn’t walk. They had to pay for braces on her legs and physical therapy. But how could they turn away their own flesh and blood? (By the way, she is now five years old and thriving!)

REASONS TO ADOPT ACCORDING TO ONCE: To fulfill your own needs and soothe your own loneliness. I’m not saying there aren’t awful, selfish people out there who adopt for that reason, but I ask you: How many people would be willing to go through ALL the difficulties I described above for selfish reasons? It just doesn’t make sense. And frankly, it is insulting to the many adoptive and foster parents that I know and love. 

4. Regardless of all of the above, adopted kids DO struggle at times.

* Mary Margaret tells Emma in season one that Henry has the same question that all adopted kids do: “why did my real parents give me up?” (I’m paraphrasing, but you remember this scene, I’m sure). This is actually true. Pretty much every family I know who has adopted, their kids have gone through this at some point. No matter how loving a home they are raised in, this question inevitably comes up. Some kids (or adults) meet their birth parents and find peace : they really weren’t able to take care of me, they really did want what was best for me, they did it because they loved me. For others, meeting their birth parents is painful. Yet none of that means the adoption wasn’t the best choice or that the adoptive parents were awful to the child (like Regina).

* Is the foster care system in the US flawed? Yes. There are too many cases and not enough social workers. Children fall through the cracks, some of them have tragically died. However, if you actually look into the facts in such cases, children are most often injured or killed not by foster parents, but by their birth parents. Usually it is the system’s failure to remove children from dangerous homes that is the problem, not cruel foster parents. There are also not enough foster parents for children who need homes, with older children being the hardest ones to place. Many of these kids are suffering from severe trauma and caring for them isn’t easy. Typically, the reason kids are bounced around in the system is because their parents keep regaining custody, loosing it again, regaining it again, etc, etc. By the time the parents either get their shit together or relinquish custody, the kid’s a preteen or teen. So my question for Once is:

WHY DID EMMA GET BOUNCED AROUND? She was put back in the system at three, but we don’t see her again until she’s eight or so at the movie theater. Do you really expect me to believe they couldn’t find a home for adorable, sweet, smart little three year old Emma? My sister would have adopted a little girl like that in a heartbeat! She wouldn’t have cared that she was three. We’re told that Emma kept running away, but at three? 

No way little Emma was incapable of being adopted. I just don’t buy it. Since adopted kids have issues even in loving homes, why couldn’t that have been the writer’s narrative? Couldn’t Emma’s adoptive parents simply died at some point? In my opinion, the whole thing was just lazy writing.

[burmecianblackmage]

The Story of Skadi and Sceada

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if those names had fallen out of grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The result was devastating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She would make them all pay for this.

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

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

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

 They were to be his last words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was when she began to speak.

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

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

There were just three that remained calm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolutely everything. 

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

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

Skadi Skadrson slayed a Dragon in single combat.

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

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

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

The Praying Mantis

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or perhaps even above the King if possible... 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have no son."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he saw her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was willing to do nigh anything for that chance. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But such was not to be. 

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

And then, everything happens much too fast. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who that man was? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, already the first question proved problematic. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then this little rat came along. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And find true friends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Burmecia stood no chance. 

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

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

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

The battle thus, unsurprisingly, does not last long. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

They needed to get back, as fast as possible. 

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

But it will already be too late.

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

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

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

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

Revenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And one day, she simply disappears. 

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

And with that, House Skadrson finally meets its end.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he was used to it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet still... 

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

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

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

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

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

It is the battle against a Malboro.

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

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

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

Even if it means aiming at his own leg. 

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

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

Only his hat is left behind...

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

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

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

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

"Firaja..." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~