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toms-cherry-trees · 7 months ago

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Cracked || Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Wife! Reader

Summary: No one ever said duty would hurt like this

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Twincest targcest (Velaryoncest?), angst, spoilers if you haven't watched S2E2, for anti hating purposes is not explicitly stated but all characters are above 18.

Author's note: Won't you look at me, 7 months since my last HOTD fic! That scene with Jace tearing up definitely did something to me. My very first time writing for Jace, hopefully won't be the last!

Also a massive massive thank you and all my devotion to @moris-auri for beta reading this!

No one welcomes him when he lands in the Dragonmont.

The flapping of Vermax's leathery wings is amplified, booming throughout the massive cavern, swirls of steam rising from the cracks on the dark stone. The only ones to witness his arrival are the dragon keepers, but even they are distracted, their focus on the exhausted dragon and not his equally drained rider. When they stride past him, they don’t acknowledge him at all, almost as if he doesn’t exist. Jace wonders if he is a ghost, because only in death could someone feel the agony that seeps from his bones and still be standing.

He feels like a foreigner in this place.

Even though he has lived on Dragonstone half his life, he feels like a foreigner. The fortress is not theirs. He doubts it never truly has been. They are just keepers of these ancient walls and the history they carry within. Dragonstone is a relic that will stand on that island for a thousand years to come, as welcoming as a gush of Northern wind on bare skin. The only warmth comes from its very core, from those who habit it and who've made the great fortress a home.

But the home he left weeks prior is not the one he now returns to. The warmth has been snuffed and the hearth has been shattered.

He walks with his head held high and his back straight, gaze always ahead and chin lifted in a gesture of near arrogance. He walks like an heir, because he is. He is now his mother’s heir and he must play his part, even if all he wants to do is lay his head on her lap and weep like a boy of ten.

A moon ago he was just Jacaerys Velaryon. He was a son, a firstborn son, but with no more responsibility than studying and learning, mastering skills that would serve him purpose in 30 or 40 years. His greatest concerns were training Vermax properly, what desserts would be served after supper, and how to avoid falling into another of his siblings’ silly pranks. He had been betrothed long ago, but marriage itself was something distant, something that could wait out a few more years.

He was a brother of five with another sibling on the way; a sister. While most in the castle pined for a son, another boy, he secretly supported his mother’s longing for a little girl.

And now he is Jacaerys, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to his mother’s throne and crown. He is more Targaryen than Velaryon now. He is an envoy, a messenger, a warrior if needed be. He is a strategist and a politician. He is an asset and a threat; someone who has forged great alliances, but also has found strong enemies, their weapons aimed directly at the target behind his head, target painted there by his grandsire many a year before his birth. A wedding , hastily arranged, to strengthen their cause and their line of inheritance.

He is a brother to just four now, and the crib has been left empty.

Cregan Stark had been the one to break the news to him. Standing on a cramped lookout on the edge of the world, nothing but whiteness as far as the eye reached, Lord Stark had said that the Wall did more than keep savages and ice at bay. It held back death.

But death came nonetheless.

Jacaerys had managed to maintain his stance as a man and a Prince, receiving the news with unyielding stoicism, even when his knees felt weak and his body chilled, like ice had spread down his spine. But this ice was nothing like the one surrounding him, there on the edge of the North. This one burned, burned like dragonfire while stabbing him with a thousand knives, leaving him to bleed out while not allowing him to die. It stole the air from his lungs and the blood from his veins, and filled him with snow. His lungs couldn’t breathe, his heart couldn’t beat yet somehow he didn’t drop dead right there where he stood.

He recalls little of what occurred after, nothing more than brief, precise memories. Receiving Cregan’s condolences, and feeling the firm squeeze of the older man’s hand on his shoulder. Northerners parting silently to make way for him in the courtyard, where a restless Vermax awaited, his screeches rattling the windows of the nearby towers. Someone handing him a parcel, hastily wrapped, containing a sleek wolf pelt as a present for their Queen. The thunderstorm he traversed in the Riverlands, and the toll it took on Vermax to fly through it.

The painful tightening on his throat as he wondered if he had encountered a similar one, not far from home.

Servants and courtiers make way for him, as he approaches his mother’s chambers. They bow and curtsy, and offer words of courtesy, lamenting the loss of the young Prince. Some stare out of the corner of their eye as he passes, waiting to see if the new Prince of Dragonstone will crumble like sand before their very eyes. But he never betrays himself; not a tear brimming in his eyes, not a wobble of his lips. The occasional flaring of his nostrils is the single telltale of the sorrow that simmers just beneath his skin.

He hesitates briefly, pausing at the end of the vast hallway where the royal apartments are. Up the winding staircase, past the single set of double doors to the left, his mother awaits. No, not his mother, the Queen. She stopped being his mother the day the crown was placed atop her head, and the court of Dragonstone bent the knee before her. Grief and loss shaped her, morphing her into the leader and ruler she had been born to be. Jace can only admire her, and hope that he will be able to embrace his new role as effortlessly as she has done hers.

The double doors are pushed open by Ser Erryk. The Queen sits alone, gaze downcast and thoughts troubled, that much Jace can tell by the nervous fidgeting of her hands, twisting her rings almost compulsively. When her eyes rise to meet his, Jacerys sees in them a mirror of himself, the same exhaustion, the effort to push back and bury the wrenching misery, the bleeding wound left behind by their loss.

They are alone, just the two of them in that silent alcove. Jace could break down, weep like he hasn’t done in years and lay his head across her lap; let her slender, motherly fingers card through his hair as she assures him that all will be well in the end. But he can’t, he can’t because she’s more Queen than mother now and she’s grieving too, grieving deeper than he is and if she can keep it together then so can he, because he is her heir and he has to make her proud and be a man worthy of respect.

The Prince doesn’t cry; the heir doesn’t cry.

A man remains immovable and imperturbable.

He straightens his back, head held high and hands laced before him as he recounts his triumphs, the Houses he convinced to pledge for them and what each one has offered and asked them in return. This moment should have been his shining glory, with himself striding through the castle with pride and confidence, ready to announce to the council how he had secured the allegiance of the Vale and the North for their cause. He would bask in his wife’s admiration, drink the praises from her lips and show her he was ready to one day be a great King, with a great Queen by his side.

Instead it is just them two, hidden behind doors, picking up the pieces falling from their carefully built masks before they completely fall apart. He brings good news, great news, but they matter little and now taste like ash in his mouth, burning and bitter. His victories mean nothing to him because his little brother is dead, gone 60 years before his time, and they don’t even have a body to burn and Jacaerys feels it should have been him, because he is the eldest and he should have protected him better. He should have faced their rageful uncle and died instead, but he didn’t and now he stands there, moving and doing because if he stays still the grief will swallow him whole and bury him in a pit of sand.

And then his voice breaks, the facade cracks and they both stop pretending, because pretending hurts, like gripping a white hot rod with both hands and refusing to let go even if it’s hurting you.

Her embrace is warm; her arms feel like home. With his head tucked under her chin, his cheek pressed against her chest, he feels young again. He feels the sobs racking her body, the tears dampening her face and his hair, her fingers digging on the fabric of his cloak. They sway slightly, rocking from side to side like when he was a babe of just a few days old, fussy and restless, keeping the whole holdfast awake at night because he refused to settle anywhere but on his mother’s arms.

But now Jace suspects the motion is meant for her more than for him, to transport her to days past when she held her babes in her arms and they were safe under her wing and no one could harm them because she would sooner tear the world to pieces. Discreetly the places shift, now it's her forehead against his shoulder and his arms holding her steady. Jace feels the tears stinging his eyes and the lump blocking his throat, but he cannot break down because his mother is broken and someone must stand strong and whole and it has to be him.

Soon, too soon, his mother has dismissed him, sending him to his chambers to bathe and rest because they will have the funeral at sunset and they must not show weakness before the court. The cracks must be patched and hidden, no matter how deep they run. Not a single piece can fall out of place.

He drags his feet now; the weight on top of him has grown heavy. His posture slackens, his shoulders slump, the pretence is harder to hold. Sunset feels like a death sentence, because a funeral makes it real. It makes it true. Burning what they have because there is not even a body left behind to burn. That way he can no longer pretend that is not happening, that is all just a tale. And then, he will crack. No willpower will keep him whole because his brother, his little brother is dead and he has to face a future where Lucerys will not be a part of it.

He pushes his chamber door open with one shoulder, his mind blank of any thought; the encounter with his mother affected him deeper than he had anticipated, because even she is cracking and now is just him holding it together because he has to.

And then he sees her.

His wife sits before the hearth, so ethereal with the glow of the fire illuminating her face. Her head turns as soon as the door opens, and he immediately notices the red around her swollen eyes. At first he thinks she’s mourning, but she’s had her time to mourn and Jace knows she’s crying for him, crying because she feels the agony straining to break through his flesh. Just like they have felt each other’s every emotion for as long as they have lived, have anticipated each other’s words and read their thoughts. Connected by a bond that runs deeper than marriage, because they are of the same blood, come into the world together.

The last time he saw her before his departure, they had an ugly fight. Jacaerys had convinced their mother to keep her at Dragonstone rather than allow her to fly as an envoy, claiming they could not leave the fortress unguarded and with the larger dragons going in and out on their missions, they had to pile up their remaining strength. The Queen had agreed, and her word was final.

She could not argue with Her Grace, but she certainly made Jacaerys know how she felt about what she perceived as a betrayal and lack of trust in herself and her abilities. Jace pleaded with her to see reason, to see things from his perspective. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in her, he would never dare to doubt her strength. But he didn’t trust the men she would encounter on her journey, nor did he want her to risk taking a long flight on her dragon and run into danger. She, always the hot headed one, had called him every name under the sun and refused to see him off, choosing instead to sulk in her chamber. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, to leave on bad terms with her, but he trusted they would talk it out upon his arrival. That all would be well and their problems would be solved.

He stands silently before her, and for the first time he feels small. So small and diminished, unwilling to look her in the eyes. His gaze is fixed on the floor because the tears are winning the battle and if they do he will crack open like a dragon egg, but no great beast will emerge, only his insecurities and his failures.

His lower lip wobbles, and he bites it so hard he leaves the imprint of his teeth. His nails dig deep in his palms in his attempt to steady their accusatory trembling. He breathes in and out, slow and steady, his eyes squeezed shut as he feels himself losing control. He cannot allow himself to lose it, not in front of her of all people, not when he is supposed to be her pride, not her embarrassment.

He hears the sharp drag of the chair as she stands, the thud of the heavy tome she had been reading being thrown rather carelessly over a table. Her steps are slow and calculated as she moves across the stone, approaching him cautiously like he is some wild beast ready to lash out. Like he is some fragile thing, so fragile that a gush of wind could break him apart.

Her hands are soft and warm as they cradle his face, gently coaxing him to look up, to meet her eyes. But he can’t, he fears he will see disappointment in them, he will see accusation, he will see her blame him for Luke’s death, for forcing her to remain back when it was their little brother who needed his protection the most.

For failing the family.

He succumbs in the end, brown eyes gingerly rising to meet her own, bracing himself for the worst. But he sees nothing of what he expected. He sees no anger, no resentment, no pity. Just worry and tenderness, and a desolation that matches his own.

The first tears he has been holding back since Winterfell finally escape the barrier of his willpower and roll down his cheeks. He attempts to blink them away but they cannot be stopped, nor does he have the strength to stop them no more. His wife brushes some away with her thumbs, and smoothes back his hair in a tender gesture

“Jace.”

That little world, the call of his own name coming from her lips is all that it needs for the dam inside him to burst. The violent sobs rack his body, tears blurring his vision and he chokes on them, while also feeling like he’s breathing for the first time since that raven arrived at the Wall. He tries to hide his face but she won’t let him, and tears shine in her eyes too and that only makes the crying worse, because his wife is suffering and he cannot console her because he’s also suffering.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

His legs weaken and his stance falters. The same apology falls from his mouth, the small words tumbling over each other and getting lost in the incessant weeping. His knees falter and he drops down; his forehead rests against her body and his hands are on her hips, fearing he will lose her if he lets go. He sobs onto her dress, not caring anymore about being the perfect Prince and heir, about being the man everyone will respect and be proud of.

His wife drops to her knees too and holds him close, allowing his head to lay against her shoulder. The scent of her body fills his nostrils, aroma of camellias and toasted sugar. It smells of happy memories and easier days, and it evokes a sense of safety in him, of tenderness, of the happiest days of his short life. His cry doesn’t stop, but it is not only for Lucerys now. It is for his mother, for his younger brothers, for himself and for all the losses to come. He cries for his twin, his wife, for now the fear of harm coming her way has increased tenfold, and the mere idea of her being cruelly ripped from his side tears a gash on his heart.

He cries until he’s sure there are no tears left to cry. Until the weight has been lifted from his chest and he is sure he can breathe again. They remain there for what feels like mere seconds and a lifetime at the same time, locked in each other’s embrace. Her fingers card through his hair and her lips press tender kisses to his temple; his arms wrapped around her, hands pressed against her back to keep her close, as close as he can to his own heart. He would gladly stay there forever, spend the rest of his days encased in her warmth and basking in her love. But the moment is broken all too soon when a servant knocks on the door to let them know that courtiers are already gathering in the outskirts of the castle for the funeral.

Jace lets himself be guided by the hand like an obedient child to sit before her vanity. She moves around him silently; unneeded words would only break the feeble spell of calmness surrounding them.

She takes care of everything for him. Wipes his face clean with a damp cloth, presses a cool spoon to his eyes so they will not appear swollen and bloodshot. He changes into a fresh tunic, and allows her to comb his hair and powder his face to disguise the redness of his cheeks and nose.

They stand together before the ornate mirror, both of them dressed in matching red and black. She helps him pin the cloak onto his tunic, fastening it to his right shoulder with a silver dragon brooch. Jace holds her gaze in their reflection, hoping to convey with gestures the emotions words fail to do. She understands; she always does.

He is rewarded with a kiss on the cheek, and while it does not manage to coax a smile out of him, it fills his veins with a pleasant tickling warmth, the same he felt after their first kiss and the one he hopes to feel until his last breath.

Her fingers run up his arms gently, tracing the embroiders and trimmings of the doublet. They come to rest on his shoulders and gently push them back, straightening his posture and puffing out his chest. The right index continues the ascent, tracing the curve of the neck and the still sharpening line of the jawline before settling under his chin, pushing upwards ever so slightly to lift his head. Urging him to hold himself with pride. To unapologetically show the world that he is cracked, but not broken.

She comes to stand before him at last, smoothing down nonexistent creases from his clothes until nothing but pure perfection remains. They hold each others’ gaze for a few moments, before she reaches up to steal from him a gentle kiss.

“All ready, My Prince.”

This time, he smiles.

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wntrswolf · 6 months ago

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an arsonist's lullaby

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!targaryen

✧ theme/warning(s): dark, heavy angst turned fluff — tw: mentions of hallucinations, anxiety / progressive panic attack(s). + all characters are of age! (18+) | contains hotd spoilers!

✧ word count: 2.7k

✧ a/n: this one-shot is a gift for @ithilwen-blackwood! firstly, thank you for tagging me on your request! it sparked a drive in me that i thought had left years ago, i had a great pleasure writing this one. secondly, given the prompt, i hope you, and the other pretty readers, enjoy reading my version. c: thank you!!!

✧ summary: to dream is to escape, granting a momentary nirvana as one falls into the refuge of imagination. yet, for the princess, a night in the supposedly cursed fortress of the riverlands, dreams became not mere fantasies but glimpses of destiny that would seal unwritten fate.

Daemon’s voice roars in the vastness of the dining hall. “We shall make camp before night falls. Come the morrow’s light, we resume our travels. See to it you are rested, we have yet a journey ahead of us.” Your father meets your gaze and nods solemnly, signalling his dismissal. You return the gesture with a faint smile, acknowledging his silent command to depart.

The murmurs of the troop swelled, each hastening to claim their place within the grim walls of Harrenhal. You remained steadfast, observing the weariness that were etched on the faces of the scrambling men around you. Gradually, the ache in your body began to throb, a reminder that the arduous journey had also taken its toll on your body. Despite the envy others held with their perceptions, it was not an easy task being a dragon rider—for an adult dragon, it was a feat far from simple.

Celestrya, much like her namesake, is a magnificent dragon. Her iridescent scales of aquamarine and amethyst create a mesmerising display of colours as she glides through the heavens. Yet, behind the deceptive beauty of your winged serpent lies a stubborn and formidable nature. Beneath her elegant appearance lies a fierce determination and commanding presence that demands respect from all who crossed her path.

Your gaze swept the hall a final time, assuring all was in order before you sought your own repose. However, capturing your attention was the distorted shadow that stood by the hearth. The wavering figure you always came to see ensnared you yet again with its haunting presence, engulfing you in its deafening whispers. As was your custom, you sought to evade the encroaching darkness, only to collide with another in your haste escape. Unaware you had been holding your breath, you gasped heavily, abruptly jolting back to reality.

“Princess,” the young man spoke, “my apologies.” The firm grasp on your arms steadied you, preventing any falter, while your palms pressed against his chest. Slightly breathless, your eyes scanned for the shadow that had mysteriously disappeared.

“Princess?”

You hummed in response, your voice barely above a whisper, “Oh, my apologies.” You steadied your breathing, glancing up at the young man to realise the close proximity between you. In a moment of fluster, you withdrew from his grasp.

“No,” he says as he scratched behind his head, “the fault lies with me. I failed to watch my path.” his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. As you regain your composure, you recognise the young man before you as belonging to House Blackwood, evident from his attire and the sigil pin securing his burgundy-black cape.

“Should my father and I be concerned, then?” you quipped with a nervous chuckle escaping your throat, eager to lighten the mood of the exchange and conceal your own tension. Playing with the thread on your dress—a familiar nervous tic—you continued, "I mean, a lapse in attention seems trivial, but in these times of impending war, every misstep carries weight.” a subtle smile gracing your lips.

He responds with a nervous chuckle, striving to maintain his composure. "Forgive me, my lady, but I assure you, House Blackwood stands ready for whatever battles may come—and I have seen to it myself.” He spoke his words earnestly, eyes reassuring you that he indeed spoke truth—a revelation of his confidence in both his army and himself.

You chuckle.

“It was but a jest,” you offered him a warm smile, "Nonetheless, I am heartened to hear of your preparations. I believe our houses make a strong alliance, Sir…”

“Benjicot Blackwood, my lady.”

“Ah, the Lord of Raventree.” you acknowledged respectfully. “I extend my deepest sympathies, and I thank you for standing as a stalwart ally in our cause. It means much to us.”

“Thank you, my lady. If anything, it is an honor.”

“Daenyra,” you replied softly, setting aside formalities in the presence of the young Lord.

What had prompted this departure from convention? You did not know. Could it be that despite his fierce demeanour, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability? his vulnerability. Perhaps you saw in him a fledgling lord who had witnessed the brutal toll of conflict—on his kin, his men, and even those he had been compelled to confront in his duties. A fledgling thrusted into authority unexpectedly—an experience you both share.

“It has been a long day,” you continued with a chuckle, “I believe I have had my fill of the formalities for now," feeling your nerves starting to settle.

“Of course, my la–” he began, but stopped short under your playful glare, “Ahem, Daenyra… Daenyra.” His voice softened, the repetition of your name becoming more natural on his tongue. The young man had uttered your name many a time, yet with your insistence that he address you by your name, simply your name, made him feel acknowledged.

You both chuckled.

“Although, pardon the intrusion, I hope it does not mean to offend,” he continued cautiously, “but were you alright? When I bumped into you, you—”

He had.

He had noticed.

“Princess Daenyra,” a slender, raven-haired woman called out, interrupting your exchange with the Blackwood Lord. You thanked her mentally; wondering if it was deliberate or mere happenstance, but chose not to dwell on it. Turning towards the woman who commanded your attention, you were immediately captivated by her mystical aura and hauntingly beautiful features. “The camp is set. We shall have you escorted to your quarters.” she announced, her sharp blue eyes locking intensely with yours, leaving an impression that lingered in your mind.

“Yes, of course,” you breathed, turning to the young Lord, prepared to bid him goodnight. “I apologise, Lord Benjicot–”

“Benji,” he corrected in haste. You were slightly taken aback, finding the informality endearing—as it reflected your own.

“I apologise, Benji. It has indeed been quite a journey, and we are weary and in need of rest,” you replied, your nervous tic making a subtle appearance again. Glancing around, you realise that it was just you, Benji, and a few other swordsmen left in the dining hall. With a slight huff, you added, “I shall see you in the morn, then?”

“Y-yes… my lady– D-Daenyra…” he stuttered, inwardly chagrined at his stumble. Despite his embarrassment, you bestowed one last smile and nod before pivoting on your heel, the echoes of your departing footsteps fading gradually into the distance.

In your absence, he chastised himself that his worry might have gotten the best of him; it was ridiculous, really.

After all, you were a Targaryen Princess, the sole daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, with the pure blood of the dragon coursing your veins. You inherited the ruthless and intense nature of your father, feared in combat where no man ever survived your blade. Needless to mention of the adult dragon under your command, the beast could devour him and his entire retinue, and would still be insatiable.

But amid the thoughts, he saw something in you that he could not quite describe—perhaps the sight of your gentle hands fidgeting, a stark contrast to the image of a warrior who must have slain a thousand men by now, he reckoned.

Reflecting on the moment of your collision, he realised that you, too, were simply a young woman—a lady of his own age—navigating a world fraught with responsibilities imposed by the realm. And now, on the march, leading an army of men to fight against the usurpers, and reclaim the justice that your mother, the Queen, had lost.

A familiar whistle—a melody only his dear aunt used—pierced through his thoughts, instantly capturing his attention, “Let us retire for the night, yea?” Her thumb gesture over her shoulder as she looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah... yeah," the young man nodded, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as weariness settled in.

Perhaps he was simply tired, allowing himself to dwell on thoughts that were not his to ponder. The princess was more than capable of defending herself, even from a lord she had met that night.

And still, he did.

It was still the dead of night, you surmised. The clamouring assembly that would rouse you from slumber had yet to commence, awaiting for the break of morn. Pain gnawed through every fibres of your being; the harsh, cold surroundings of Harrenhal offered no respite from your discomfort. Your gaze fixed on the patterns of the canopy you lie beneath, the soft patter of rain acting as your lullaby. You closed your eyes as you sought after slumber once more.

Without success, you shifted uncomfortably in the makeshift mattress, propping yourself up on the firm pillows that offered little comfort.

You sigh.

To your confusion, a sudden breeze rustled the entrance flaps of your tent, the fabric dancing along the gentle gusts. Goosebumps prickled your skin as you hear the familiar whispering—voices that haunted you time and time again; yet, it would be the first time you heard it spoke your name,

“Daenyra…”

You sucked in a breath, the thump in your chest increasing its tempo. The phantom’s whispers are heard beyond the refuge of your tent. Your palm dampens with cold sweat, as terror etched itself onto your features.

Despite the urge of pursuit, fear had kept you in its confines, afraid of probing what had lurked in the darkness—in fear that the spectre that observed you would swallow you with its frightening taunts.

Or could it be an ambush? A ploy orchestrated by the Greens. A sorceress used to alter the perceptions of the formidable princess of the realm—a plausible explanation, is it not?

The vendetta within your family: Retaliation.

An eye for an eye.

A son for a son.

They would just simply have to seize the moment, right when you are in your defenceless trance.

‘Ambush the Blacks, slay the princess and prince consort while abed, and we make the Blackwoods bend the knee to the rightful heir,' you reckon they thought.

An absurd, petty measure, but an irrefutable one closer to a checkmate.

Nevertheless, a ruse as such would never come to pass—existing only in the realm of imagination.

You were torn between fears: a haunting apparition or mortal hands that could lead to your demise.

Your conscience came to a ground that despite the fear residing in your bones, an audacious drive took over you to follow the bewitching voice.

The ominous sight of the empty hall sent a chill in your spine, dim candles and occasional flashes of lightning provided sparse light amid the storm. You held the lantern, a guiding luminance, close to your body to warding off the encroaching darkness and hoped that the flame would not cease; and your other hand grips tightly by the hilt, wielding your sword.

Guided by the mystic call once more, you prudently tread your way within the ruin.

“Daenyra…” The voice growing clearer and louder with each step.

“Daenyra…” Again.

“Daenyra…” Your breath grew ragged and shallow. Panic gripping your chest like a vise, squeezing air out of your lungs.

It was not until you reached the grand iron doors that you realised where it led you—the dining hall. Thrusting open the heavy door, it creaked loudly. Once again, you were confronted with the shadow by the fire—the sight intensifying your fear, quickening your heart.

“Daenyra…” The once-unrecognisable voice now rang clear, luring you towards the flame.

You approached the hearth cautiously, a sense of foreboding thickening the air as the shadow dissipated. The crackling of the fire seemed to roar in your ears, the blaze casting its orange hue upon you and its warmth seeping into your body. Entranced, your brow furrowed as you stared into the flickering flames.

The voice spoke yet again, shifting to that of your weeping mother, calling out your name.

Your body tensed, skin tingling as if touched by flames.

"Mother?" you breathed out.

Suddenly, within the flames you hear wails of anguish as a hand emerges from the flames. With a sense of charmed urgency, you cried out and reached for the hand, the flare enveloping yours with a searing kiss.

Agh!

Recoiling, overwhelmed by the blinding flash of pain, you collapsed to your knees. Your sword dropping with a clatter as the haunting echoes of voices reverberated louder than ever in your mind:

That of the cries of babes, blood-curdling screams, galloping horses, agonising shouts of a thousand men, clashes of metal, thunderous roars of dragons and fire, and in the haze, unintelligible murmurings.

“No… no… no,” you whispered, each heartbeat echoing like thunder in your ears,

THUMP

The dining hall began to close in around you, the heat becoming overbearing.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trembling hands covering your ears in a desperate attempt to silence the chaos consuming you.

“Daenyra…” It cried.

“Make it stop…” you pleaded, rocking back and forth. The sword lay forgotten on the stone floor, and the lantern burnt out, its presence unnoticed in the turmoil.

“Daenyra…” It cried out again.

“Please…”

“Daenyra?” A male voice softly whispered to you, gently shaking you from repose. “Dae–”

You woke with a sharp breath, a sob escaping your throat.

The dark figure hovering over you prompted a renewed wave of anxiety as you sat up abruptly, causing the figure to topple back. Your eyes darted around in fear, spotting a dagger that sits on the foot of the mattress, you still as dread overcame your body—unable to muster a shout or a scream.

It was not until the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the dishevelled form of the Blackwood male that you realised you had emerged from sleep. You watch the young man in confusion as he had been hovering over you while you were abed, his blade just within reach.

“B-Benji?” you croaked out as your chest heaved with staggered breaths. Your hair stuck to your tear-stained face, glistening beads of sweat lining your neck and chest. Trembling hands grasped onto his arm.

“Princess,” his velvet voice replied gently, “Forgive me, my tent neighbours yours,” his eyes locked onto yours, “I could not find rest. I-I remained awake, but I heard sobs and…”

You release a breath of relief that had been caught in anxiety.

“T-Thank you,” you uttered, meeting his gaze gratefully. For a moment, the tension in the air begins to ease. “For waking me up.” you added with a slight nod, your breath steadying in his reassuring presence.

Benji's expression softened, his gaze tender and unwavering as he, hesitant at first, gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "'Tis nothing," he murmured softly.

You offered him a faint smile, your hands working to compose yourself from your unsettled state.

Just a night’s terror.

Sighing softly, you wiped your palms over your face, hoping to dispel the lingering fatigue that still weighed upon your body.

At that moment, Benjicot hesitated, unsure whether to depart now that you had acknowledged his role in rousing you from the terror. Despite this, he remained seated with you in the hushed confines of your tent. His concern, which had grown since your exchange late last night and continued into the early hours of the dark morn, stirred his curiosity about your well-being before your unexpected encounter.

The fragility in your voice shattered the pregnant silence, “I…” you chuckled softly, airily. “I– I don’t know what I saw,” you admitted softly, voice slightly trembling.

“All I know is that it felt… real." you said pensively, unconsciously playing with a loose thread on the quilt that covered you. "It sounded so real.” your voice barely above a whisper.

Noting your nervous tic, “Dreams can be cruel,” Benji spoke. You watch as his hands gently took hold of yours, his thumb brushing soothingly over the backs of your hands—the gesture fluttering your heart. “But they are also just dreams, m’ lady.” he reassured with a smile.

He continued ever so delicately, "I too face the same darkness. You are not alone.” he whispered, his eyes locked with yours.

His words enveloped you in comfort, as did his mere presence—offering solace with each reassuring word and gentle touch.

You found yourself instinctively seeking if he would become a comforting constant in your moment of vulnerability. You long for his warmth, a feeling you had already sensed from the young man, since the previous night's encounter.

“Stay… will you?” you whispered, your hands nestled in his, a self-conscious gaze falling to your lap.

He tightened his grip slightly, offering you a comforting squeeze. "As my princess commands," he replied softly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

a/n: soooo how was it? i feel like i rambled a bit too much in my writing. my brain went haywire since i wanted to add everything i thought of (ideas were popping up left n right up n down) but i added what i could: character cameos, witch's hallucination vs dragon dream??? hihihihi anyways! do not hesitate to comment ur thoughts, i appreciate reading them! ♡

#heavy angst #fluff #hotd #benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood #house of the dragon #please read tw!#happy ending???#house targaryen #x reader #x reader fanfiction #benjicot blackwood x reader #hotd fanfic #davos blackwood x reader

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felassan · 2 months ago

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The Art of Dragon Age: The Veilguard preview pages Part One, under a cut due to spoilers. Preview pages come from Google Books.

[Foreword]

[Part Two]

Life in the Tevinter Imperium.

Part One: Post-Inquisition

Top: Returning to Rivain with a precious quest object. Middle: Exploring Par Vollen, the home of the Qunari. Text: Halfway through the development of Dragon Age: Inquisition we created a series of illustrations we called “beat boards” (intended to cover a major moment or “beat”, they are more polished than a storyboard). They proved to be helpful as we brought the game together. As Inquisition was coming to a close, and a sliver of attention was being paid to the next game, we wanted to try doing beat boards right at the start of the game, rather than the middle. With a few general ideas like “We’re going north” and “Maybe there are Titans” and a sense of story momentum, we started creating exploratory beat boards, asking ourselves the simple question: “What would be cool?”

Top: On a secret mission in Tevinter. Bottom: Receiving an assignment from the Inquisitor

The Red Bride's grave.

Top: An old Warden that was avoiding the Calling. Bottom: The first attempt at designing Weisshaupt Fortress. Text: Northern Thedas - Designing the cultures of northern Thedas was like a fun speculative-archaeology project. We were starting with fragments. There were occasional props, characters, or journal entries that hinted at these cultures, and we had to reverse-engineer living, breathing societies from those fragments. The most important aspect was to design them in a way that respected our fans’ engagement with the material but also attempted to exceed their imaginations (or at least do them justice).

Top: In an ancient magical city, some buildings that would have collapsed centuries ago are kept frozen in time. Bottom: Infiltrating the Archon’s throne room.

Middle: One of the first ideas for a player base was a secret lair in Minrathous’s forgotten undercity. Bottom: The very first concept art of Minrathous. Trying to capture the elegance and pride of the Imperium.

Top: The Divine sends out ships to hunt Solas in the hopes that his capture will restore peace to Thedas. Bottom: A Tevinter magister, a Chasind witch, and a Ben-Hassrath commander plot against the player.

Top: A war room in the captain’s quarters. Bottom: We explored making the player base mobile. It would give us water access to most of the regions in northern Thedas.

Top: Early on we explored the return of the griffons – in this case, using them as mounts to hunt dragons. Bottom: Something in the depths has scared the dwarves enough that they’re fleeing to the surface by the thousands.

A coastal town in Rivain.

Top: Elves from all over Thedas answer a mysterious call to Arlathan Forest. Bottom: Exploring a possible endgame scenario where Solas has summoned a Titan in the middle of Minrathous.

Top: Solas returning like a regal figure out of the distant past. Bottom: What if we return to the Fade and rescue whoever was left behind? How would their time in that alien landscape change them, and what insights could they offer into Solas’s plans?

Top: The part runs into their Tevinter counterparts, and they have to work together to survive. Bottom: Solas interrupts your mission, wiping half your team off the board and forcing you to make an unlikely alliance.

Top: Your ship is stolen, and you have to sneak into enemy territory to get it back. Middle: Journey to the heart of darkness to find Colonel Kurts… er, Solas. Bottom: We created piles of sketches and line work to explore story beats. We could iterate quickly and throw things away if necessary.

Top: There are multiple factions in Veilguard. To make sure they were always recognizable, from their buildings to their belt buckles, we began with shape. Middle: We had explored Tevinter’s shape language in Inquisition, so in their case, it was a matter of expanding on what was established. Some shapes just felt right (like Wardens and the pointed arch). Bottom: A residential Tevinter interior.

Various captions on this page: An upward-pointing triangle for the mages’ college. We explored some sturdy shapes for the dwarves. The Wardens’ pointed arch could be turned upside down into a shield. Rivain has a been a neutral faction, so the circle worked well. The Necropolis factions started with a half-circle “crest”. A downward-pointing triangle for Tevinter. Ben-Hassrath started with an X shape language.

[no captions]

A wealthy Tevinter mansion. To show off, most of the house is built on top of a floating stone slab veined with lyrium. Visitors try not to think about what would happen if the magic was interrupted.

Slice-of-life illustrations like this weren’t prescriptive, but they helped to explore the feel of certain regions we had only ever heard references to.

Rivain is a trade center. It’s one of the places where you’ll see the greatest overlap of cultures.

[no captions]

Tevinter is a complicated place. While there are lofty towers and powerful magisters, we also wanted to explore what the daily life of Tevinter might be.

Top: Peaceful beginnings, gentle giant gardeners, and curious spirits. Middle (1): The spirits saw the dwarves as they tended to the Titans, and they wanted to try making bodies for themselves. Middle (2): The spirits made physical bodies for themselves from the “flesh” of the Titans. The first elves were born, and the first war began. Bottom: A brutal war raged on between the elves and the Titans, only ending when one elf (Solas) rendered the Titans “tranquil”, capturing their souls.

Top: The elves brought a powerful war trophy home. Middle (1): With the Titans rendered tranquil, dwarves lost their connection to magic. They fled into the bodies of their fallen homes. Bottom: With the power that came from the captured Titan souls, the elves built the greatest empire Thedas would ever see.

Top: Solas fought against the self-proclaimed gods, earning the title “the Dread Wolf”. Middle: The gods drew upon the power of the Titans’ souls to gain more power. The imprisoned souls became twisted with rage. This became the Blight. Bottom: To contain the Blight outbreak, Solas performed a desperate blood-magic ritual. He bound up the magic of the world behind a Veil and powered it with the blood of the evil gods. Text: Black Codex – There was a top-secret document on BioWare’s network that contained the objectively true history of Thedas called the Black Codex. Each culture had its perspective, its own emphasis and style, and over time more was added and taken away. It was decided to reveal a lot of truth in this game, so early on we wanted to illustrate the Black Codex. This would help to act as a visual guide to the events that formed Thedas as we know it.

Top: What remained of the elven empire collapsed. The early human empire of Tevinter discovered it in shambles. Bottom: Eons later, the Blight reached out to power-hungry Tevinter magisters through their dreams. They were lured to the Golden City, but the magisters found it already blackened by the Blight.

Various captions on this page: At this stage, just about anything goes. Writers and artists both have ideas for what kind of characters they’d like to try, so we dump them all out on the table. We created some comics to explore the tone of the story. Some of these characters were designed specifically for that purpose. The Heir of Andraste: Finding the last living descendant of Andraste, a rough-around-the-edges warrior living among the barbarians. The Gladiator: A Tevinter gladiator that has earned her freedom. Her arm’s protected by mail made of keys from all the slaves she has rescued. She wears her former shackles as rmor: a reminder and a threat.

Various captions on this page: The academic and the mage college scholar forced into the field. Initially we work from very simple premises, often only a couple of words, like “happy necromancer” or “Qunari assassin”. An awakened darkspawn mercenary. Text: Early on we thought about creating a new set of advisors for your ship. It’s satisfying to revisit characters from previous games, especially if time has passed. It’s a chance to try and make their story visible. In this case, we see a Morrigan that has embraced her new gift, who can offer insights into the mysteries of magic and the ancient elven world. This version of Dorian is like Mathis from Casino Royale, someone who can advise you through all the ins and outs of Tevinter culture. Smuggler Admiral Isabela can get you into and out of just about any port in Thedas.

Book art credits:

BioWare art: Matt Rhodes, Ramil Sunga, Albert Urmanov, Christopher Scoles, Nick Thornborrow, Steve Klit

Volta art: Gui Guimaraes, Stéphanie Bouchard, Akim Kaliberda, Alejandro Olmedo, Alexey Zaryuta, Julien Carrasco, Maksim Marenkov, Marianne Martin, Mariia Istomina, Marion Kivits, Matti Marttinen, Mélanie Bourgeois, Pablo Hurtado De Mendoza, Rael Lyra, Rodrigo Ramos, Thomas Schaffer, Tiago Sousa, Tristan Kang, Vladimir Mokry, Yintion J, Joseph Meehan, Stefan Atanasov, Julien Carrasco

Additional art: Marc Holmes, Thomas Scholes

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #solas #blood cw #gore cw #injury cw #morrigan #queen of my heart

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sansaorgana · 3 months ago

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— KINGDOM OF DISTURB

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Despite being locked inside his fortress, you cannot complain about being Sauron's Queen. You are surrounded by luxury and your every wish is fulfilled. After long centuries of such life, however, you grow a little bored. Mentioning it to your husband has terrible consequences.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The title is from the song that inspired me (Kingdom of Disturb by Nostalghia) and of course you don't have to know the song to read the fic but I strongly recommend it because it fits so well with the whole theme – In fever dreams he holds me // Fever dreams destroy me // Inside his kingdom of disturb // I am the queen of his design 😌 Basically, in this fic, you are kind of living like Celebrimbor and it gets dark as well – although not that dark lmao I imagine Sauron as Annatar here but you can imagine him as whatever to be honest and the Reader had to be an Elf so she could live for a very long time, but other than that she is not described in any way!

WARNINGS — mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), mentions of Reader wanting to have a child (spoiler alert: Sauron does not), toxic & abusive relationship with some physical violence (he pulls and drags her by her hair), manipulation, gaslighting, victim blaming

WORD COUNT — 3,450

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

KINGDOM OF DISTURB

When Sauron married you and made you his Queen, he took you to a huge and beautiful fortress in the Southlands. You had imagined being his spouse a little differently – more… actively. You had been imagining yourself healing Middle-earth alongside your husband but he kept you hidden inside your chambers instead.

He was assuring you the reason was your safety since his task was not yet done. And you believed him because you wanted to. Even the fact that the heavy doors of your chambers remained locked all the time was something done out of his love and his protectiveness. You understood. In fact, it felt good to be protected by him. To be taken care of. To be aware of the depths of his devotion to you.

And most of the days, you spent alone; awaiting his return from his journeys and battles. However, he made sure that you were never bored.

Your chambers were enormous and the most beautifully decorated in all sorts of silver, gold, gemstones and ornaments. Velvet, silk and cotton surrounded you and everything smelled of fresh flowers that were being changed everyday by your servants.

You had every book you wanted there and your ladies-in-waiting, as you liked to call them, were skilled in nearly every craft, so they could entertain you with their musical skills, new dresses made for you, drama plays performed for you to watch and clap your hands at… Anything you asked for was there – within the reach of your little finger.

And when you wanted to spend the time outside, perhaps you could not do that fully but you had a huge balcony all for you from where you could watch the vast and green land of the Southlands. The sunrays were keeping you warm and the blue skies were calming your senses as the sounds of birds, wind and playing children from afar were reaching your ears.

It was a paradise where you lived and you did not mind being trapped. Sauron was making sure of that. Your every whim was being fulfilled and whenever he was back to spend some time with you, he was the most skilled and attentive lover. After a few days or weeks spent in his embrace, you were too hazy to complain or to think of anything else except for the amount of your love towards him.

You were not sure for how many years you had been there – centuries, perhaps. Time was a blurry concept for you these days. And the most uncertain. However, throughout all those years, you had been very satisfied and content with your life as Sauron’s Queen. You had been waiting very patiently for him to finally heal Middle-earth and to prepare his realm for you to join his side fully.

Only recently, something had changed. And when Sauron had come back to you after being separated for a bit longer than usual, at first he hadn��t noticed any of that.

You had spent a whole night in each other’s embrace, your bodies tangled together as they reached a peak after peak between the gasps, moans, arched backs, curled toes and fingernails being dug into flesh. He was a Maia and he could go on for days without a break but you were not graced with such powers, therefore you required a rest. So, he granted it to you in the early morning as you both laid underneath the silky sheets.

After taking a short and regenerating nap, you yawned softly and giggled when Sauron’s hands caressed your sides. You looked deep into his eyes and placed a kiss upon his lips, caressing his cheeks. But when you opened your mouth to start the conversation you had been dying to have for a long while now, you were interrupted by one of his servants with a knock upon your doors.

“What is it?” Your husband asked, irritated, as he rolled his eyes at you playfully.

“My Lord Sauron, there is an important matter to discuss,” the raspy voice of his servant reached your ears.

You had never seen any of his servants but you could imagine they looked quite different from your gentle and beautiful ladies-in-waiting. You were not sure of their race since they had been the same since the beginning but you did not ask any questions about it since you were pleased with them either way.

“I shall return to you soon, my love,” Sauron kissed your forehead and left your bed.

He got dressed up quickly and turned around to smile at you adoringly before walking out of your chambers. A short while later, you could hear the doors being locked.

You stretched your sore limbs and stood up to dress up yourself, too. Sometimes, you liked to do it yourself instead of asking for your ladies-in-waiting. As much as you adored them, you had also quite grown used to solitude. And sometimes you preferred it this way.

After putting on a gown, you stood in front of the large mirror and caressed your curves underneath the fabric. You wondered how your body would look if it were changed by pregnancy. And when you turned to your side to put your hand on your abdomen, pretending to be carrying your husband’s child already, he walked inside this very moment, startling you.

You quickly moved your hand away but you were sure he had spotted what you were doing as he tilted his head and approached you slowly. Without a word, he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you – the red colour of his robes looked so regal contrasting with the golden colour of yours.

“What are you doing, my love?” He whispered into your neck, placing a gentle kiss there and making you shiver.

You looked down at first and wanted to tell him that nothing, you were doing nothing. On the other hand, that was the conversation you had wanted to have with him for a long time now but each time you either were running out of courage or you were being interrupted.

So, you looked up to meet his gaze in the reflection of the mirror and you took a deep breath in.

“What if we had a child together, my love?” You asked and watched how Sauron’s facial expression changed from playful to serious… Angry, even. His jaw clenched and his eyes – usually so kind and loving towards you – filled with rage that he was trying to keep at bay but you knew him too well not to notice. “What is it?” You turned around in his arms uncomfortably as you met his gaze in reality now and not only in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are you not happy with me?” Sauron asked with all seriousness and concern.

“I am very happy, my love. That is why I want to–” you started, a little surprised by his tone.

“Why do you want to ruin what we share then?” He interrupted you, harshly and it made you shut your mouth immediately.

“I had no idea that you perceived the possibility of fatherhood this way,” you finally said in a weak whisper.

“There is no such possibility,” your husband took a step back as if he was disgusted with you at that moment and it hurt you deeply.

“Physically, it is. There have been cases of Maia and Elves having offspring together. Rare, but still…” You swallowed thickly as Sauron’s eyes filled with even more anger and the corners of his lips twitched.

“You… You have been researching that?” He asked with contempt.

“My love, I do not want to push you into anything or force anything upon you!” You quickly reached out to grab his wrists to calm him down. He allowed you to touch him but he did not touch you back in any way and his eyes did not turn softer at all. “If a child – an heir – is not what you wish, let it be then. I only want to know the reason why not,” you explained, looking for compassion. “If it is jealousy… For I am aware of the amount of your devotion towards me… Well, I can assure you that my love can be shared and perhaps I would love you even more if–”

“I am not jealous,” Sauron snorted at that and you closed your mouth, blinking your fresh tears away. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am?”

“Of course, my love,” you nodded, surprised at the question.

“And do you think I wish to share this power? This greatness?” He freed his wrists from your grasp and walked away to pace around with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Do you not wish to share it with me one day? Once Middle-earth is healed?” You asked, confused.

“It is different. Our child could be even more powerful than I am. I do not wish for heirs,” he explained, nervously, “for they could be a threat.”

“A threat?” You asked, taken aback by his words. “Your own children? A threat for you?”

“You are not happy… You are not happy here,” he kept repeating as if he was angry and worried at the same time, ignoring your questions and walking in circles like some sort of a maniac.

“My love…” You tried to catch his attention again, staring at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You had never seen him so upset and you felt guilty for causing this. He had enough worries outside this fortress and when he was with you, you wanted him to feel calm and relaxed.

“You are not happy… You are not…” He was no longer paying attention to his surroundings, spiralling down as if his world had just crumbled down.

“My love…?” You tried once again.

“Not happy, not happy, not happy, not–”

“Sauron!” You addressed him and this time your voice grew harsher out of impatience. He froze and turned around to face you, with his hands still clasped behind his back. He was visibly taken aback by the tone of your voice but you were frustrated now by the way he behaved.

And, perhaps, he should have finally heard some truths.

“I am not unhappy, my love,” your voice grew softer but it was still quite distant. “The life I have here is the most luxurious and I am being spoiled by you every day, even when you are away. I am the most grateful,” you assured him and he sighed with relief. “However,” you added and he furrowed his brows again, “I grow tired of being locked away. I wish to walk outside, I wish to meet more people than my ladies-in-waiting. I know you are not yet done healing Middle-earth but I know you do have whole realms under your rule already. Are your subjects not curious about their Queen? I would love to go outside and meet them. Even though I have here everything I could ask for, I still grow bored sometimes as I seek for some purpose or adventure. Perhaps a child is something I started to crave because of boredom,” you finished and took a deep breath in, feeling the burden you had been carrying for so long within your soul being released.

Sauron’s face was unreadable at that moment but he remained still like a statue as he kept staring at you coldly, without even blinking. You swallowed thickly and after a moment, you simply had to look down, too intimidated by his stare.

“You are… bored?” He laughed contemptuously, breaking the silence. “I have to spend long weeks away from you to heal this realm and prepare it for you, so you can rule it alongside me when everything is all ready for you and handed out to you on a silver plate – like everything else – and you complain about… boredom? I fight battles and risk my life, while remembering to spoil you every day no matter what, only for you to show such brattiness?” His voice was filled with so much disappointment that you wished to die at this very moment.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps you were being ungrateful.

“F-forgive me,” you whimpered, still not brave enough to look up.

“Oh, it is too late, my love,” he emphasised the last two words with anger as he approached you and grabbed you by the roots of your hair, making you yelp. He had never done anything of this sort to you before and you had never expected him to. He had to be even more angered than he showed. “Do you wish to know the truth?” He whispered into your ear venomously. “You have no idea how much power and focus I have to sacrifice for you to live a life so beautiful and yet you dare to complain?” He asked and you could not understand the meaning of his words. You only kept sobbing and not even because of the physical pain he was causing you at the moment but mostly because of the way he was behaving towards you. “True, your naiveness and foolishness makes it a little easier. You do not notice my little slip-ups and oversights… But still… I’d be much more powerful if I did not have to sacrifice so much of my abilities on creating this illusion for you,” he drawled out.

“What illusion?” You asked through the tears and Sauron looked deep into your eyes, pulling your hair even harder as you whimpered. He kept staring at your face with anger and contempt, visibly overthinking something.

“Let me show you the truth, my little brat,” he smirked and the corners of his eyes twitched nervously. In that moment, you suddenly realised that the light coming through the curtains from the outside was gone.

The chambers still looked the same – full of luxurious goods and items – but they were all so… dark. And somehow dusty as if there was ash covering some of the furniture. You squinted your eyes at that, not fully understanding the meaning of any of it.

“Here,” Sauron dragged you by your hair towards the balcony doors. And when he opened them and forced you to look ahead, you gasped in terror.

The Southlands were no more. The green land full of the bird songs, blue skies and the children’s laughter was nothing but a dark land of gloom and ashes with the huge volcano breathing out smoke in the distance. The skies were orange from the clouds and fire and there were ashes dancing in the air. It was hell and you realised that this was the reality – not the beautiful and gentle things you had been seeing for the past centuries whenever you had walked out to breathe in fresh air and feel the sunshine on your skin.

“You are not healing Middle-earth,” you whispered, nearly inaudibly, feeling defeated. “You are annihilating it.”

Sauron let go of your hair finally and pushed you away while doing so.

“I am healing it. Middle-earth is too spoiled and rotten for the process to go smooth and easy. I must purge it and rebuild it and then, only then, we shall rule it together,” his voice went softer again but it was still filled with a scary hint of darkness.

When you looked up at him, he was smiling at you lovingly again as if he hadn’t just caused you any pain. And you realised that from now on, you would always hear that scary hint of darkness in his voice no matter what. Because it had most likely always been there.

You remained speechless, staring at him with your wet eyes and silent tears streaming down your cheeks. He reached his fingers out to wipe them out of your face.

“Now you see it… I was trying to protect you from the whole process… From the truth of it… For I knew you would not understand my vision. And you shall stay here until my task is complete, my Queen,” he assured you sweetly.

“I do not want to…” You confessed.

For the first time in your life, you truly did not. Even though it was impossible to stop loving someone in a brief moment – no matter how much pain they had caused you and how evil they had turned out to be. You had been loving him for too many centuries to stop now. But it did not change the fact you simply did not want to be by his side anymore.

You expected Sauron to get angry again but he did not. He cupped both of your cheeks now and leaned in as he kept staring at you with a mix of affection and pity. He knew very well that what you wanted mattered no more.

“But you must, my love, for I shall never let you go,” he whispered, pecking your lips delicately and tasting your salty tears. “However, now that you know the truth, I do not see the point of my further illusions. Your curiosity and brattiness have robbed you of this privilege,” he pointed out and caressed your hair. “Come back inside, my darling,” he dropped his hands to your arms and led you back into your chambers.

He let go of you to close the balcony doors behind you two and you froze at the sight of a few shadow-like creatures floating above the dusty floor of your bedroom. Their shapes were humanoid enough to be unsettling but there was nothing pure about them and their eyes were red as they burned with fire.

“Wh-what are those?” You asked.

“Those are your ladies-in-waiting,” Sauron answered, trying to make his voice sound sweet although you were aware that calling them by the name you had given them was nothing but mockery.

“I do not think I want their service anymore,” you swallowed thickly. If his illusions were to be truly gone, you would rather live alone there instead of having such creatures following you around.

Even though they had already been doing that for centuries now…

Sauron chuckled to himself and nodded at the shadows. They disappeared immediately after and you sighed with relief.

“Do you still wish for a child, my love?” Sauron asked you and put his arm around you before leaning in to kiss your temple. “Because I think that, after all, I could give you one to make you less lonely,” he teased, cruelly.

“I would never curse my child to share their eternity with me in this prison,” you looked up as you answered, feeling the lump forming in the back of your throat.

“Whatever you wish, my Queen,” Sauron smirked and gently pressed your face to his chest as he caressed the back of your head. “I am sorry for causing you pain. I truly am,” his voice broke a little and you wanted to believe him because what else could you do?

Believing him would make this whole thing a little bit easier.

“I know,” you whispered, feeling utterly defeated.

“Do not anger me like this again,” he whispered and even though his voice was full of guilt, there was a threat in it, too. “I do not want to cause you pain. You mean the world to me,” he explained and you realised that perhaps he was believing his own self while saying these things, too.

After a while like this; being forced to hug him but with your eyes kept open, he took a step back from you and lifted your chin up gently.

“I must leave now again, forgive me. I have received worrying news this morning from my servant,” he explained. “I shall be back soon. Keep your bed ready for me, my Queen,” he teased playfully as he usually would but this time it did nothing to you except for making your stomach twist.

He leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead and turned around to leave. You watched him walk away and heard the lock turn. You were left alone in the darkness of this room, which was covered in the ashes getting inside through the windows. You were lonely and broken – with the sound of the volcano and burning fire accompanying you from afar.

You sat down on the floor and brought your knees all the way up to rest your chin upon them as you wrapped your arms around your legs. Curled up this way, you began rocking yourself slowly to calm down and to seek for comfort in your own embrace.

This was how your life would look like from now on. But it was better than living inside a lie.

Was it?

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #lilysfiction

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mythicamagic · 8 months ago

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Two Black Sheep: Scar x Female Rover oneshot

Summary: Rover crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding his probing gaze. “We likely don’t have much time so I’ll get straight to the point: how are they treating you here?”

Scar’s mirth died down, smile turning patronizing. “Much like our little game in the village, I’ll let you work out the truth for yourself. Truth is always better as a wonderful discovery, rather than fodder fed to you by someone else.”

Female Rover x Scar.

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AN: This game isn’t even out yet what am I doing?

This takes place a little later on in the story, so mild spoilers (though I don’t know if they’ll still include this story beat into the released game after seeing it in the most recent Beta test). I fell in love with Scar as an antagonist while watching content creators stream this game so here we are.

Rated T, 2500 words. You can find this on Ao3 too.

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Jinzhou city lay quiet and peaceful at night, a shining, glittering jewel of captive lights in the dark. Despite traversing through much of Huanglong, the sight of the pale fortress remained a stunning one to Rover. It stood tall and protective of its people, but she’d always gotten the sense there was more to it. A strength built into the stone; or a set of metal teeth lying in wait beneath its demure exterior.

This suspicion was confirmed upon stepping into Jinzhou’s underground prison. The first few floors were pleasant and bright, only a few guards posted at the doors. As Rover was led deeper however, taking a lift down, down, down into the dark depths of Jinzhou’s fortress, the atmosphere palpably changed.

It reminded her of entering a Tacet Field, feeling subtle vibrations hum in the air. Strong energies called out in the dark; prisoners waiting in their cells. Not all of them were Resonators, but she felt them nonetheless. They were agitated and restless, some pacing in front of the doors to their cells as she stepped off the elevator and passed by. A few were tied up even when secured behind metal bars, their arms strapped to their torsos.

It was a different side of Jinzhou that Rover had been unfamiliar with until now; a grimy and cruel underbelly. She faced forward when some prisoners began shouting, cat-calling her and rousing the attention of the hallway in a domino effect as she passed by. The guards eventually stopped at the very last door of the hall- this one without the luxury of a window to peer inside the cell. The great iron door hissed and groaned on its hinges as the locks slid open.

Rover caught the moment the lights switched on before she was ushered in.

He’s been in total darkness all this time?

She outwardly gave little reaction at the sight that greeted her. Naturally stone-faced, Rover relied on her blank mask like a crutch in that moment. A wide metal collar sat around the prisoner’s neck- steel spikes lining the inside pointing inward toward his jugular like a circle of teeth. Poles connected the collar to the cell walls, forcing him to stay on his feet in the center of the room. She noted his arms were bound behind his back, no signs of wounds on his body.

Blearily eyes blinked at her, adjusting to the light.

Scar lifted his head slowly. Interest livened his features the second it seemed to click who he was staring at. He jolted, rattling the poles and sucking in a sharp breath, as though imbued with life.

“Well, well...this is a pleasant surprise, dear Rover,” he rasped. Mismatched eyes smiled with laser focused intensity. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Rover ignored him and forced a smile at the guards flanking her sides. “You can leave me alone with him. I’ll be alright.”

The men exchanged worried looks. “It is not that we do not trust you, illustrious guest. It is that the Magistrate gave clear orders that we protect you at all times during your visit. Leaving you alone seems unwise, given the level of notoriety this criminal has earned.”

Jinhsi. She was probably right to be concerned. Scar hadn’t been easy to capture and the level of security surrounding his cell was testament to his abilities. One slip up meant escape. On the other hand, Rover couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something uneasy in her gut.

“I’ll be vigilant. Your priority should be to keep him detained, not my safety,” she turned and laid a hand on the older guard’s arm, looking up at him through her lashes. “If anything happens I’ll call for you, I promise." She squeezed his bicep for good measure.

The guard shifted, clearing his throat. He gave a nod and gestured for his companion to leave, giving her a tight squeeze on the shoulder in parting, finally leaving the room. The metal door slid shut behind them with a hiss.

Left alone in the quiet room together, Scar was quick to quirk a brow. “I didn’t know you were capable of using your appeal like that. The poor man will be thinking about your pretty face for days. Be careful such tactics don’t land you in hot water.”

Rover crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding his probing gaze. “We likely don’t have much time so I’ll get straight to the point: how are they treating you in here?”

More open surprise flitted across his face. It was such a sharp contrast to his usually unflappable, grinning persona. Scar tilted his head and gave an impish grin. “How interesting! You surely didn’t come all the way here just to inquire after my wellbeing. Did Madame Magistrate put you up to this? A new tactic to get me to talk?” He chuckled, rattling the poles with the force of his stifled laughter. “It’s impressive, I’ll give her that. Very compelling. I’d much rather talk to you than anyone else in this forsaken place, even if it becomes an interrogation.”

Solitary confinement certainly hasn’t impacted his ability to talk, Rover noted dryly. His voice sounded slightly hoarse to her ears though. “Just answer the question.”

Shifting her weight, Rover took one step closer, then another. His predatory smile widened at her proximity, flashing teeth at her steady approach.

Thinking things over, Rover glanced at his torso. His tight red and gray bodysuit revealed his proportions a bit too well at times, but it hid everything of his skin.

Well if she wanted answers she could just ask his body directly.

Rover reached out and poked beneath his ribs.

“Gn!” a harsh breath hissed out through clenched teeth, his whole frame shuddering. Scar grinned soon after, shooting her a wary look.

“Wasn’t much of a wonderful discovery, was it?” Rover drawled, reaching behind her hip and taking out a container. She shook it, depositing food rations out onto her open palm. Maintaining eye-contact, she bit into the dried meat, chewing and watching how his attention dropped to her lips. His mouth thinned into a hard, grim line.

The sound of a stomach rumbling filled the room.

“We’re two for two,” she noted, securing the container again and taking out her water bottle. His gaze was immediately wide and imploring, gazing at it longingly.

Rover sighed, offering the rim of the bottle out to him. “I don’t think I need any more evidence. Just drink already.”

Scar lifted his head, that unusual pale white hair of his sliding into mismatched eyes. She’d been able to look into them once before, when he’d initially been apprehended. One flinty gray, the other a dull red. She’d been distracted back then, but without so much as a window inside the room to draw her attention away, Rover could admit there was something beckoning about his appearance. He wasn’t unattractive by any means- though she quickly shook that thought away.

At his uncharacteristic silence, Rover frowned. Putting the pieces together, she lowered the bottle. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what worries you.”

He laughed. “Oh dear sweet Rover. I don’t think you're capable of poisoning anyone. Far too earnest for such underhanded methods,” he shook his head. “No, no. It’s not you I doubt. Madame Magistrate though- and those guards? They’d jump at the chance to slip a member of the Fractsidus a little something. What’s more, they have the perfect little scapegoat right here.”

Inferring his meaning, Rover’s blood ran cold, becoming uncomfortably aware of her position. “...They wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t they?” he purred, leaning as close as he dared, heedless of the spikes threatening to puncture his skin. “I’ve told you so many times now not to misplace your trust. Especially not in those you barely know: and with amnesia making you so ripe for manipulation its a recipe for hurt,” he practically sighed the words. His tone was casual, but he was smiling, very, very widely. “If you really did come here of your own accord, they’ll mark this day on your record. A smear. They’ll have eyes on you, watching your every move- anticipating the day you turn traito-!”

Rover shoved the water bottle against his lips. She tilted it up, pushing her fingers into the gaps between the collar spikes to try to alleviate their pressure against his neck. “Just drink. You talk too much.”

Scar made a noise, spilling some liquid- water running down his chin, before he gave in and ultimately drank. He gasped as soon as it seemed to register how thirsty he really was, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed with heightening desperation.

Once finished, Rover lifted the bottle away, noting the faint sneer of his mouth.

Cutting her gaze to the ceiling, she lifted the bottle to her lips and titled it back, catching the rest of the remaining water on her tongue. “There. If they want to poison you, they’ll take me out too in the process.”

He blinked rapidly, the derision quickly falling from his expression. He glanced at her hand still woven between the spikes and collar, registering her touch for the first time.

“You’re such a strange existence,” he murmured softly, turning the full force of his attention onto her. Rover felt her gut lurch the second heat touched his cheeks, reddening them. “If you’re not careful, you’ll win more than just my attention. I’m already serious about obtaining you for the group. If I started to want you for myself…hmn…” a rumbling noise of contentment escaped the depths of his chest. “Just picture it; two black sheep. Ostracized from their herds for different reasons, but finding solace in each other’s jaws. A beautiful picture.”

Rover took out her food ration, bumping it against his mouth to try to prompt him to eat again and hopefully stop talking. “I do one nice thing and you’re talking as though we’re meant for each other,” she sighed, glancing at the door. “I don’t know how long we have left. Eat.”

Opening his mouth, Scar accepted her offering, chewing while staring at her with that keen light in his eyes.

Seeking to snuff it out, Rover straightened, bearing down upon him with what she hoped was an intimidating glare. “Let’s not get carried away here, Scar. You’ve murdered people in cold blood. You’re still planning on hurting my friends if you ever get out of here. Nothing’s changed between us, are we clear?” she said firmly.

“Crystal,” he swallowed, bypassing her glare to look up at the ceiling with a dreamy gaze he sometimes gained, voice becoming light hearted. “I’ve no plans to hurt your friends specifically though. All that matters is you and me in the grand scheme of things. I really couldn’t care less about those outside of our circle enough to actively target them. It all just sort of…happens in the moment when they come between our little talks.”

Releasing his steel collar now that he’d eaten, Rover made to back away- only for him to lunge- the poles shrieking, collar straining against his neck.

Their noses brushed, breath intermingling. Rover froze up, all her instincts she’d naturally fallen into when fighting Tacet Discords blurred away into nothingness. Her heartbeat slammed into her ribcage. She couldn’t move suddenly.

The instability she’d glimpsed so many times in his gaze was back with full force. A kind of euphoric high brightened his irises. “You haven’t asked me anything about Fractsidus! I find that so strange and fun. If you were here on Madame Magistrates orders, you’d be going back empty handed. So…” Scar’s lips ghosted her cheek without pressing down, resting snugly against the shell of her ear. “Why did you really come here?”

Goosebumps raised on her skin. Rover yanked her head back, summoning her best poker face to look at him dispassionately. “I’ll let you work out the truth for yourself,” she said. “Truth is always better as a wonderful discovery, rather than fodder fed to you by someone else.”

She then grasped him under the ribs, threatening to squeeze whatever injuries lay hidden beneath his clothes. Scar inhaled sharply against her cheek- before falling into a sinfully low groan.

His exhale was shaky, relishing the pain. “You truly are magnificent at whetting my appetite, Rover. A sublime prey.”

When their pupils next met, Rover’s widened, finding those gray and red eyes equal parts deranged and manic.

Scar laughed when she broke away, his shoulders shaking with mirth. She stiffly moved back toward the safety of the door, banging on it twice with her fist.

His uproarious laughter followed her all the way out, ringing in her ears long after the steel door had shut behind her. She stood amongst the concerned guards, shying away from their casual touches.

“Are you alright, miss?”

“Did the interrogation go well?”

Rover looked at the younger guard sharply. “I didn’t go in there to interrogate him,” she gritted out, curling her gloved hands into fists. She stepped closer. “There’s no light switched on in there when he's alone. He’s malnourished and dehydrated. What’s more, the guards are delivering corporal punishment behind closed doors. This was an informal inspection, sir. One which you failed.”

His face turned red comically fast. “M-my lady! What would you have us do?! He’s an S rank criminal! We’re too concerned he may escape if we ease up his living conditions.”

“Besides that, he’s a murderer-” the older guard cut in. His eyes narrowed, roving around her face critically. “If you have any sympathy for that man, save it for his innocent victims.”

She rounded on him with a hard sneer. “I don’t condone his actions. However, there’s too much we don’t know- and letting him die means allowing his knowledge and information to die with him. I won’t let that happen if I can help it,” she muttered, turning on her heel and storming down the hallway the way she’d come. Changes would be coming swiftly to Scar’s living situation if she had anything to say about it. Without her memories, information was more important to Rover than anything, and perhaps losing Scar didn't matter to the Jinzhou officials- but it mattered to her.

She could feel their judgemental gazes boring into her back. Maybe it had already started. No, it had started the second she’d requested a visitation without being ordered to see him. Rover half expected Scar’s warning to come true- for the various Jinzhou officials and citizens to start suspecting her of fraternizing with the Fractsidus.

That was fine with her. Though he unnerved her, something about Scar kept forcing Rover to pay attention to him. That no matter how strange and misleading his words were- there was a grain of truth to them somewhere.

Or, perhaps, he’d been a complete and utter liar from the very start, designed to make her doubt herself and everyone around her.

Either way, Rover saw the value in finding out the truth for herself.

#Scar Wuthering Waves #wuthering waves #Scar x Rover

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bara-izu · 1 year ago

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☼Personality | Family | Diety | Relationships ☼

v Full profile under cut v

☼ Personality ☼

A gentle giant, Halion prides himself on his ability to defuse situations through constructive conversation, only using violence as a last resort. (*Cough* With the exception of some big bad nasties who dont deserve a chance...*Cough*)

In an ideal world, he believes power should be used to protect those in need, and while not everyone shares this idology, he will ensure his own strengths will do just that.

Although Halion may seem naive on the surface, he just likes to see the best in everything, desperately trying to keep a positive spin on things - for his own sanity... He hopes this positivity can be a beacon of light for others, though it can be a detriment to himself, hiding his own anxieties to keep up a smile...

Behind his cheerful disposition, he also had a devious sense of humor, he also understands that sometimes, feigning ignorance, makes it easier to get what you want....sometimes....

Gorgeous template by: Arcandoria

☼ Family ☼

Born in Elturel, Halion was raised by his adoptive parents; his half-elf father, a quiet, mild mannered scholar, and his Dwarf mother, a loud, cheerful jeweler in the city of Candlekeep. Growing up in the fortress of knowledge, the young teifling was surrounded by stories documenting the achievements of heroes past, filling him with an desire to join them one day.

At the age of 7, the family moved to Baldur's Gate, his parents retiring to focus on themselves and raising their child. Halion still has a very close relationship with his parents, with of course them being the first people he went to check on after arriving back in the city.

☼ Diety & Paladin Oath ☼

While his parents aren't particularly devout, during his younger years, still attached to stories of powerful and heroic characters, Halion looked to the Gods that inspired them, in hopes that he could channel their goodwill.

Growing particularly fond of the MorningLord, Lathander, Halion aspired to become a Paladin under the 'Order of the Aster', some of the highest ranking knights in the clergy. However, as he grew older, he began to understand that The Order, much like many others, were far too militarian and heavy handed for his liking. While he was still determined to train and protect those around him, Halion had detached himself from the church as an institution, to follow his own head and heart.

'Sunblaze' is not his surname, but a title given to him when he first took up his Oath. While he no longer follows the group he got the title from, he still holds it dear.

☼ Relationships ☼

!!! ENDGAME SPOILERS MARKED IN RED!!!

☼ Shadowheart:

Like a sister to him. While he found it difficult to navigate around her spikey exterior at first, he soon found a little banter and trust goes a long way. He felt an great smpathy for the way her desires to be a dark justiciar fizzled out after the events with the Nightsong, and while not as dramatic, could related to his aspirations with the Aster Order.

After the events with the Netherbrain, she has been invited to stay with his parents, himself and Astarion for as long as she wishes, while they find a new place to settle.

☼ Gale:

From their first meeting, the two got along incredibly well. Sharing their hunger for knowledge, the two would share whatever books they had collected along the way. Unfortunately, this also lead to a little bit of misunderstanding...And while Halion was very excited to learn about the weave, he couldn't quite read the signs... And was severely embarrassed when he had to turn gale down... It took some time but after they were able to go back to being friends.

After the events of the Netherbrain, Gale left following an argument about the crown... Halion is still sad about this and hopes to eventually make contact with him again, wherever he may be...

☼ Astarion:

Starting on a bad note, Halion found it hard to understand him at first. But despite his grumbles Astarion stayed with the group, which lead him to understand his prickerly behaviour was similar to Shadowhearts- in a form of self preservation. Similarly to the events with Gale, Halion didn't quite read the mood (or pass the insight check...) and was swept up in Astarion's manipulations, thinking they had formed a close bond...

However, after the encounter at Moonrise, Halion suggested they start again, as friends first. in a 'I know we both have feelings, but i think you have more important things on your mind' kind of way, reassuring him he'd still be there.

It was only after the conclusion of events with Cazador did the pair start again.

After the final events with the netherbrain, Halion swore to continue to search for a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again. Along with shadowheart, the trio are currently relocating his parents first before they continue their adventure.

#halion sunblaze #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #my tav #my oc #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 gale #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #tav #i updated his profile art to actually look more like the ingame model now- much happier with it

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efy727 · 28 days ago

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ABC kids

That's just my nickname for them. First seeing Buddy, I thought these three could have been good friends. Not replacing Junior, to make it clear. I just think, Buddy deserves more of friends.

Ramblings below. With Spoilers.

I need more Brothership, that game was AMAZING. I've been into Mario and Luigi since 2014, with BIS as my first game. I love the combat, the story, the characters, like this is my type of game.

The only lacking part was boss density. All Extension Corps members should had gotten individual fights, so the player can get quite the surprise on how they work as a unit, like the Mage Sisters. But that's my main gripe.

Is wild it's made by the developers of Octopath Traveler. I didn't know until after beating the game. I've played both entries; so, knowing them, it causes quite the shock. But the soul of Mario and Luigi it's still there. I hope to see what more could they do with the series.

Anyway, I have a feeling that there could be DLC, despite neither Octopath, nor Mario and Luigi getting those as far as a I remember. There are a few things I perceive as loose ends.

Mainly what Arc tells you before storming Fortress Zokket again, that if we navigate all currents, something good might happen. Of course, I passed through all of my remaining dark blue currents and... nothing. Is just, what is the purpose of that line of dialogue? Am I the only one hung up on that text?

Another thing is Dewy Fightem, still saying that he will continue his monster research after defeating Glohm Pipegunk and disappearing from Shipshape after beating the final boss. It would be cool to get rematches with the final stretch bosses.

Another thing, I would be nice to be able to find Patriarc at some point, even if optional. Dude disappears from the story, and I just kept expecting him to show up. He only does in the credits.

Reviewing them again, maybe not the best "evidence", but I can dream. Besides, they could at least do a post-game with the tree Connie gives Mario at the end.

Well thanks I you got here. Have an extra sketch. I might do something out of it someday.

#mario and luigi #mario & luigi brothership #brothership #connie mario and luigi #arc mario and luigi #buddy mario and luigi #EFY's art and rambling #another one for the pile (extra sketch)

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callsign-rogueone · 10 months ago

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fireproof - b.s.

cadet!Brennan Sorrengail x cadet!reader (young Brennan and Duchess!) words: 1.4k 🏷: no book spoilers because this happens before the events of fourth wing hehe. more of bb bren and bb duchess. set soon after the events of allies, so read that first! near-death situation / mortal peril, but no actual injury happens. I promise these two will communicate their feelings soon lol

You come to a stop in front of Brennan’s door, heart pounding. You hadn’t thought about this part, and you’re not sure what to do; you don’t want to knock, don’t want to wake up any of the other cadets -- it’s still very much four in the morning, and you’re not supposed to be out of your room.

You’re not supposed to be talking to a second dragon, either, but here you are.

Brennan pulls the door open, sparing you the decision -- Marbh must have woken him up. He’s quick to usher you inside, scanning you for injury.

“This is going to sound absolutely insane,” you breathe, “but Marbh is in my head right now.”

He blinks the sleep from his eyes, still not fully awake. “What?”

“Marbh is talking to me. I have no idea why or how, and for some reason, I can’t reach Ban to ask.”

You both hear the orange daggertail’s response at once. “She is otherwise occupied, so she sent me.”

“That’s not vague at all,” Brennan says aloud, exasperated.

“If you must know, she is defending herself to the Empyrean right now.”

Your eyes widen. “The dragon council? Why?”

“That is for her to explain to you.”

Brennan notices you’re fully dressed, your longsword sheathed across your back and a thick cloak covering your shoulders. “If you’re going to find her, I’m coming too.”

He turns to open the closet, digging through it for a clean pair of flight leathers.

Your eyes catch the dark orange of the relic spanning his back, your cheeks warming as you realize he isn’t wearing a shirt. You whirl around, averting your eyes, but the sight is already burned into your brain.

You’d never realized how toned he is.

Focus, you tell yourself, shaking the thought from your head. Ban could be in mortal danger right now.

“Ready,” Brennan says, shouldering his sword.

It’s absolutely freezing out, still the thick of winter, though there’s been a break in the snow this week, so you don’t need to worry about leaving footprints as you cross the courtyard.

Brennan leads the way, taking a shortcut through a door you’ve never even noticed before.

Making it out of the fortress is the easy part. You step into the wet grass, and you realize you have no idea where to go.

“Marbh?”

Silence. Literal crickets. Great.

You gather the slack of the black string connecting you to Ban and pull gently, seeing where it leads. Northeast, to the flight field and the vale. You make the climb silently, worried that if you speak, you’ll somehow alert whoever is threatening Ban to your presence, or that you won’t hear them coming.

You’ve never been out here, never been allowed to -- you still aren’t, and you probably never will be, but you push the thought aside as you continue. It’s surprisingly deserted out here, which is as equally concerning as it is relieving.

It’s so dark out that you almost mistake the orange daggertail ahead of you for Marbh. Almost.

Marbh isn’t missing an eye; this is Melgren’s dragon, Solas.

His jaws open, and you know there’s no time to run, to fight, to beg for your life.

You yank Brennan behind you, praying to whatever gods will answer that your body will be enough to shield him from the fire.

It is.

You hear the roar, feel the heat, see the grass on either side of you catch, but you’re protected by an invisible wall that extends from your outstretched hands, keeping back the flame.

You plant your feet, fighting to stay upright and to keep doing whatever this is. It feels like you’re pushing a thousand pounds uphill, but if you stop, if you falter for even a second, or it will cost both you and Brennan your lives.

The blast stops, leaving a wall of flickering orange fire in front of you that fades after a split second.

You nearly collapse as you step backward. You’re exhausted, soaked in sweat and overheated despite the chill of the night air, your heart pounding and lungs burning like you’ve been running for miles.

Brennan holds you up, undoing the clasp of your cloak to help cool you off.

The ground shakes with the landing of multiple dragons. If they’re as mad as Solas is, you’re absolutely cooked. You have no idea how to do that again, or if you even can.

You want to tell him how sorry you are that you’d dragged him into this, that you shouldn’t have knocked on his door to tell him, you should have just gone alone, that when you die together, you'll spend the rest of your afterlife making it up to him, that your biggest regret in life will be not telling him how you felt about him, that you--

“Sorry I’m late, noble one.”

You whip your head up to see a black leg next to you. Ban. She’s brought company — Marbh, and a giant brown swordtail that you’ve never seen before. Brennan’s eyes widen in shock, but he stays silent, his arms still wrapped around you.

Marbh does not greet you, instead stalking past you toward the other orange dragon and baring his teeth in warning.

Oh, gods, are they going to fight? If Solas kills Marbh, it’ll kill Brennan too.

The brown steps forward, cutting Marbh off and stepping dangerously close to Solas. They lock eyes for a moment, and Solas backs up, but the other takes a step forward, forcing him to retreat. Solas quits while he’s behind, taking flight and disappearing over the ridge.

The brown dragon looks back at you, satisfied with his work.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, still terrified. If he could scare off Solas, he must be even nastier — or he must have said something to him that made a difference.

He nods his head at you in acknowledgment before he takes off.

The sun is starting to rise over the mountains, casting the scorched ground in gold.

Brennan’s hands are on you instantly, checking you over for injury, but you’re more focused on the perfect half-circle of green grass beneath you that hadn’t been burned.

“You’re a fire wielder,” Ban answers, sensing your confusion.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

It had taken Brennan just over two weeks to discover that he was a mender, the rest of your class following suit quickly. You're the only first-year who is yet to attend Professor Carr’s lectures.

You were beginning to think you might not have been going to get a signet at all.

“We never doubted you for a second,” another voice purrs -- not Ban or Marbh.

You startle. “What?”

A different one replies, a gruff male who sounds absolutely terrifying. “We’ve been watching you with great interest. I now understand what she saw in you on conscription day.”

This has to be a dream. There’s no way that four dragons are in your head right now.

“You’ll get used to it,” yet another adds. Five?

“How many of you are there?” you ask aloud, eyes widening.

Another answers. “A dozen, for now. I am sure that many others will come to accept you in time.”

“Accept me? What?”

“As a human ambassador,” Marbh replies, as if it’s obvious. “We haven’t had one in nearly a century. It was about time.”

You notice a new string now sits beside the one you share with Ban, multiple threads of different colors twisted together into a thick rope.

You laugh in shock, processing. “But why me?”

“Because of this,” Brennan says softly, touching your forehead, “and this,” he rests his fingertips against your chest, keeping them there.

Your eyes meet, and you feel that magnetism you’d felt the day he’d first spoken to you. Your heart races under his hand.

“The boy is correct. You are the first in two human generations with this deep of a respect for our kind.”

You’re still looking at Brennan. You bring a hand up to grasp his, completely forgetting about the soot coating your fingers. It smears against his skin, leaving streaks of black across his knuckles, but neither of you seem to mind.

“Now would be an excellent time,” Ban prods.

You part your lips, working up the courage, but someone else speaks first; a human, that Brennan hears too, and the both of you freeze, turning toward the voice.

“Of all the students that I’d think to find sneaking out, you two were certainly not on the list.”

Professor Kaori. He looks thoroughly unamused, eyeing the four of you and the burned patches on the ground with suspicion.

Brennan looks back to you, and you nod in permission — there’s no lying your way out of this, not when the whole riot will know of the night’s events in a matter of minutes.

“You’re gonna want to hear her out, Professor.”

#brennan sorrengail #brennan sorrengail x reader #Brennan and Duchess #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #mine #I am so tired. brain is fried. I hope this makes sense.

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6thofapril1917 · 3 months ago

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6thofapril1917's Eastern Front Reading List

So, you're an HBO War fan who wants to learn more about the Eastern Front. Maybe you, like me, wanted to know why Masters of the Air's depiction of the Nazis was so much darker than in Band of Brothers. Below is a list of books on the topic that I've been assigned during my time studying Eastern European and Soviet History. Most of these are scholarly monographs, not pop history, but I found them gripping regardless. I've provided Internet Archive links when available, and links to booksellers when not. If anyone else has suggestions, feel free to add them in reblogs - I focus primarily on Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine.

The Eastern Front, 1941-1945, German Troops and the Barbarisation of Warfare; 2nd edition by Omer Bartov (Palgrave Macmillan, 2001). Available on Internet Archive.

Originally published in 1985. The first book in English to comprehensively challenge the Clean Wehrmacht myth. Examines the experiences, indoctrination, and crimes of Wehrmacht soldiers.

Ivan's War: Life and Death in the Red Army, 1939-1945 by Catherine Merridale (Picador, 2007).

Looks into the day-to-day life and experiences of soldiers in the Red Army. Probably the most accessible of the books on this list in terms of writing style.

A Writer at War: A Soviet Journalist with the Red Army, 1941-1945 by Vasily Grossman, trans. Anthony Beevor and Luba Vinogradova (Pantheon, 2007).

A collection of primary sources and writings from Soviet journalist Vasily Grossman, who was embedded with the Red Army.

Russia at War, 1941-1945: A History by Alexander Werth (Barrie & Rockliff, 1964).

Similar to Grossman, Werth was a British journalist for the BBC and the Sunday Times during the war. Details his experiences while embedded with the Red Army.

The Unwomanly Face of War by Svetlana Alexievich, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volkhonsky (Random House, 2017).

Originally published in the USSR in 1983. Nobel Prize winner Alexievich's Groundbreaking oral history of women who served in the Red Army during the Great Patriotic War. One of my personal favorites.

Last Witnesses: an Oral History of the Children of World War II by Svetlana Alexievich, trans. Pevear and Volkhonsky (Random House, 2019).

Originally published in the USSR in 1985. Covers the experiences of Soviet children on the Eastern Front, soldier, partisan, and civilian alike.

Marching into Darkness: The Wehrmacht and the Holocaust in Belarus by Waitman Wade Beorn (Harvard University Press, 2014).

Examines the Wehrmacht and its crucial role in carrying out the Holocaust in Belarus.

Fortress Dark and Stern: The Soviet Home Front during World War II by Wendy Z. Goldman and Donald Filtzer (Oxford University Press, 2021).

Comprehensive overview of the Soviet home front over the course of the war, including the mass evacuations of people and industry into Siberia and Central Asia. An absolutely fascinating read.

The Myth of the Eastern Front: The Nazi-Soviet War in American Popular Culture by Ronald Smelser and Edward J. Davies II (Cambridge University Press, 2008). Available on Internet Archive.

Analyzes the creation of the Clean Wehrmacht myth by German war veterans, the myth's popularization in American culture, and its impact on Americans' understanding of the Eastern Front. Spoiler: Band of Brothers does not come out of this unscathed.

#woo!!! i hope this isn't too long haha #wwii #eastern front #band of brothers #mota #history #dispatches

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akutasoda · 9 months ago

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helo, for the event, wriothesley with teen reader who is the youngest prisoner of meropide?

a duke's mirror image

synopsis - when the youngest prisoner he's seen stays at the fortress

includes - wriothesley - platonic focus

warnings - gn!reader, reader's age isn't specified, fluff, slight angst, spoilers for wriothesley's backstory, wc - 1.5k

the law was an unforgiving and difficult to fight, especially in a nation known to be the home of the god of justice - fonatine's ideal was justice for that reason. wriothesley knew first hand how the oratrice mecanique d'analyse cardinale could determine a persons fate - would you live your life basking in fontaine's sunlight or be confined to the dull, damp confines of the fortress of meropide?

however that did not mean you couldn't turn your life around and emerge from the depths of fontaines water looking for a fresh start, although that did depend on why you were there from the start. as a young child, wriothesley entered those depths and emerged as someone who took their experience and eventually became the lord of where he was previously held - a bit ironic in his eyes but he meant well and he intended to upheld his morals.

as the lord of the fortress of meropide, he knew of every single criminal or accused that passed through the entrance and he knew of those that left - you could really see people from all walks of life inside the fortress. however it wasn't really everyday that a younger prisoner made their way into the depths so it made it all the more noticeable when your file was placed upon the duke's desk in advance for your stay after your trial had been finished.

normally, the first thing wriothesley would glance at would be the reason for convinctioon as to get an idea of who he was going to have to keep an eye on but his gaze was immediately directed to your age. from his memory, you would be the youngest prisoner of the fortress during his time as the lord - a small part of him had a nagging feeling that you would the youngest since his conviction. now he cared little for why you were convicted, sure he took a small glance but it seemed rather insignificant to him when you were that young.

he was rather lucky during his stay, the prisoners he was placed among took sympathy on his younger form and opted to help teach him a few tricks and such but he couldn't speak for the prisoners now - there was no guarantee that they would be as kind. someone as young as yourself still had your entire life ahead of you much like he did and this prison stay could decide whether or not you delve deeper into a dishonest and damaged future, wriothesley wouldn't allow that.

your cell was rather damp although you didn't know what you were thinking it would be when it was literally underwater, of course water would seep through eventually. the small continuous drip drip of the leak in the corner could atleast be a source of entertainment or maybe you could judge the sparce use of candles and lanterns in the cells. on the bright side, the bed didn't seem as bad as you were expecting and maybe you could actually convince yourself it was comfy.

your trial came much sooner than you wanted it to, it's not like you weren't expecting it but you swear they moved it forward. anxiety and apprehension soon morphed into pure dread and terror when your fate was promptly decided by the oratrice mecanique d'analyse cardinale - the ludex's voice resounded in your head and was sure to haunt you in the waking and sleeping world.

you don't know exactly how long you had been sat on the semi decent prison bed before a guard came to your cell and demanded you followed and you didn't really ask why. you were escorted to a cell that wasn't as damp or dark as your previous holding, sure it still held the bare minimum but it was definitely an upgrade in this place - only the did you turn to the guard and ask why but they propmtly locked you in and left.

your first day in the depths of the fortress went rather smoothly. none of the prisoners really gave you any hassle and some even looked at you with a tad bit of sympathy but you were a bit hesitant they weren't being judgey. you were also a bit suspicious when the cafeteria's robot mek bran gave you food that appeared to be different to the rest of the prisoners but you'd rather not make a fuss. a part of you preferred to just keep your head down and mind your own business but that became difficult when there was an obvious difference on your treatment as a prisoner.

it was only the second day of you're stay when you were informed the duke wanted to see you. small parts of you were immediately panicking as you tried to recall if you had done anything to garner the duke's attention but nothing came to mind which made it worse. you're entire walk there was filled with silence that allowed your thoughts to control your worries as you feared for the worst and it wasn't helped when you reached the duke's office and he was sat at his desk, file in hand.

on further inspection as you walked closer, you realised the file was yours. wriothesley placed the file down before reminding you to take a seat on the chair beside - it felt painstakingly long until you sat down and when you did the only sound that filled the awkward silence was the low hum of whatever music he had playing from his gramophone. wriothesley was the one to break the near silence and he began apologising for not talking to you sooner.

'you know how busy people can be, even i wish i wasn't this busy sometimes' he began and continued on explaining how he had been a bit busy over the oast few days, although he seemed to notice your apprehensive stand. he gave a small smile before stating 'you probably don't want to hear any of that so let me get to the point, by no means did i call you here for any negative reasons'

you remained silent as he continued 'please understand that i merely just want to inform you of a couple of things regarding your stay here' a small nod was all he managed to coax out of you.

you were convinced he didn't do this for all the prisoners but you didn't really feel you had the confidence to speak up and say anything, so you remained silent occasionally nodding to his words. 'i would also like to inform you that we had you're cell upgraded on my terms as well as your overall necessities' this was what peaked your interest and the final nail in the idea that he was giving you a better stay so he should've expected the 'why?' that you asked.

'i'm afraid i cannot tell you why but please know that any changes would have been authorised by me and are for your benefit'

a small part of you felt like you should tell him that you didn't want the extra's and you were a prisoner like everyone else down here but you felt he wouldn't listen. eventually he allowed you to return to your cell and you quickly took your leave as the duke's office became rather suffocating the more you stayed in it. you knew for sure that he was giving you a better stay than he would other inmates and you could take quite the reasonable guess that it was because of your age.

over your stay at the fortress, you tried to ignore all the extras granted to you but it became very hard to ignore when the duke invited you to his office for some small talk over lunch or happened to 'conicidentally' patrol the area around your cell and 'happened' to pass by yours to ask if you needed anything. one day you had happened to pass by sigewinne who was passing through the halls and you decided if anyone was going to give you an answer it would be her.

your suspicions were confirmed, the duke of the fortress had taken upon a duty to ease your experience in the fortress just because of how young you were. sigewinne made it very clear not to bring it up with him and you promised her you wouldn't. maybe knowing why he took pity upon you made it easier to accept his kindness.

wriothesley's kindness stard consistent toward you right until your final days at the fortress, and even as you departed wriothesley made sure to escort you out and wishes you best for your future.

akutasoda's 1k event

#—stellaronhvnters.#↪♡akutasoda's 1k event ♡#x reader #x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

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lynnlovesthestars · 1 year ago

Text

"Let me show you how this will benefit you".

For @ask-althaearoserun ❤

Pairing: Gortash x fem!OC (Althaea).

Genre: smut.

Warnings: dub-con (kinda since there's coercion), unprotected sex, fingering, oral fem! recieving, possessive Enver, improper use of throne and throne room, edging, orgasm denial, improper use of golden gauntlet, creampie, slight dumb-fucking, rough sex overrall.. if i missed anything let me know. author regrets nothing. Kind of semi-public sex. Slight power-play, implied ownership. spoiler for act 3.

Synopsis: He's got a proposal she can't refuse.

WC: 4.7k

AN: hello, it took me a while to get through this piece for Skull but a month later i finallydelivered it. With her consent I'm posting it- since her OC is out protag tonight-. Nevertheless let me know what you think, lots of love, lynn.

Wyrm's Rock was obnoxiously calm as they reached the bridge that allowed them into the fortress.

"Lord Gortash is expecting you, please make your way to the audience chamber." The steel watch repeated and repeated until they had stepped past the doors of the audience hall. They were surprised that they’d let them in so easily, yet they obliged seen their insistence without questioning too much the new rules of the fortress.

The audience hall was packed with royalty and steel watchers as Gortash was idly eyeing the door, awaiting for the last invited guests.

Them.

Enver had insisted on having them attend, not only to let them know who they were going against and the power he held, but also because he had heard so much about Althaea. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet the infamous slayer that took down Ketheric, though his first glance at her left him genuinely confused: he knew he could have her wrapped around his gauntlet before even getting to speak with her and her companions.

She was small, clearly a nuisance, compared to him and his grandiose presence in the room; in a normal setting, she would have passed unnoticed, but in the middle of royalty, she stood out.

Nevertheless, his focus was on the ceremony- though Karlach and her troupe didn't agree. The tiefling was furiously throttling towards him, seething and burning. He knew that the steel watch would not have been enough against her, and that it would have sent the wrong message to the masses present at the ceremony,

“A moment please, my friends- an old acquaintance has come to pay her respects." He mused as he took a step forward, descending the stairs. "Please, Karlach, come say a proper hello.” He said with a smile painted full of faux friendliness. His voice was clearly sweetened for the audience they had as he stepped towards her himself.

“My respects? You are lucky I’ve agreed to not shove my boot up your-” Karlach roared before he interrupted her with distaste.

“Ah how I missed your colorful turn of phrase.” He twirled his hand dismissively. “We must catch up as soon as I’ve had words with your little friend.” He uncaringly ignored the tiefling and glanced towards Althaea with dark eyes, clearly hiding something behind them.

“As for you, I shall congratulate.” He gave her a small bow of his head. “Thorn’s defeat has not passed unnoticed; shall I say thanks to that Netherstone you carry and for your astonishing fighting abilities”. He said with his honeyed voice. “Pleasure to meet you” He gave her a small bow with her head, politeness first, persuasion later.

He had wondered how she’d rudely introduce herself, telling him to fuck off or hells knows what, yet the moment she opened her pretty mouth, she sounded anything like the gruesome descriptions of her persona he had heard.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Lord Gortash.” She put up her best smile, concealing her mild disgust at the closeness with him. She could feel the bile forming in the back of her mouth already.

“I believe we have something rather important to discuss.” He pressed his hands together and cracked his fingers, readying for the extenuating and boring conversation they were going to have. “Indeed” She nodded, looking at his movements in case he’d rush a movement.

The conversation went on between Gortash trying to gauge how much they had known and Althaea respectfully grunting and nodding as he went on and on.

It felt for her as if he was trying to stroke her mind as he spoke, keeping her in the loop of the conversation yet leaving behind chunks of information he didn't want to reveal yet.

It was only at the end that he finally seemed to take a step closer to his objective, finally poking at their only protection against the absolute.

“That prism of yours won’t last indefinitely.” He said sternly while he crossed his arms apprehensively. “Next there's the grand design. Though I suppose that if we come to an agreement, this fate can be avoided.” He concluded in a smirk.

“What do you suggest?” She quickly ignored the emperor in her head as she replied with a shake of her head yet standing tall and confident in front of him, not allowing him to believe he had the upper hand against them. Enver seemed entertained by her stance, so insignificant yet so annoying in the bigger picture of his plan. He had two choices: either squish the fly or get the fly on his side, and he was a mastermind at the end of the day.

“Well, the brain won’t respond to new commands as soon as it is done with its current ones. Then it will be free to do as it wishes, and that would be rather unpleasant.” He pointed arch and clever. “And once it’s freed I doubt we’ll ever be able to bring it under control again.” He smacked his lips together as he threw a glance at Althaea- that was now at the center of everyone's attention.

“I still don’t see where you are going” She lied, seeing behind his mask of politeness. He wanted something. He had that look in his eyes that reminded her of how her father would look at her before he'd try to make a move to overpower her, and she wanted to throw up right there and then. Yet she knew she had to do this: for the sake of her friends, for the sake of the city, and possibly for the sake of the whole coast.

It was almost as if his words were calculated, trying to catch her in like a spiderweb set up for the next victim, and his sweet- almost sincere words, where the honey he bet would get her to agree. As if admitting having made a poor alliance would have somewhat fixed all that there was wrong with the situation.

“They say a brittle alliance can never be mended; it is bound to break.” He intoned as if he had rehearsed those words countless times. “Orin is unreliable, and with Ketheric gone, she will want the stone for herself” He simply explained axiomatic. “She only cares for blood, and mine and yours are positively delectable right now.” There was the threat.

Orin.

He would betray her if he needed- and he hoped the merry troupe would agree. He was the better way anyway. Giving Orin all that power would have created devastation and unleashing the brain would waste all this gracious power he was about to grasp at.

No one was fitter to sit ahead of Baldur's Gate like the adept of Bane.

Nevertheless, Althaea didn't budge. If he wanted something he had to say it out loud, in front of everyone in the room. “I suppose you are right, but I still don’t see what you are trying to say” She huffed.

“I can’t let that happen, I don’t want to destroy this city, I want to steer it to its glory." He trailed off with another of his sly smiles. “I have a proposition for you” He finally advanced, looking at Althaea first before addressing the rest of the party.

“A divine oath, sworn and unbreakable. I shall do no harm to you, nor you to me." He propositioned. "You'll slay Oring and with all three of the Netherstones we’ll rule Faerun as kings.” He spelled each of his last words as if they were the best promise he had for them, a vision of success and glory that everyone would run for. “No more than kings- gods. We'll rule as the absolute.” He hyped himself with his own words, as the taste of power already floated in his reach for him to snatch.

“The only absolute here is my no.” She said firmly trying to ignore the same feeling he had, the need for power.

His eyes muted, as if he had a new challenge to accomplish, he had set his mind on. “Oh dear, I didn’t know I had to convince you.” He lowered his voice, while his eyes stared daring. “I shall do so once we are done with the ceremony then.” He dismissed them just as quickly as he had with Ketheric before he left him to his demise.

The ceremony was painfully boring as all the honors had to be made, introducing the most relevant figures in the room and witnessing the tadpoled Duke proclaim Gortash archduke. Althaea could swear even her tadpole was squirming in boredom as the time went on, but there was something about Gortash as he politely entertained the crowd that made her cheeks grow warmer. He'd occasionally made sure to take glances her way, not even attempting to conceal them as the event formally came to an end and their debate resumed.

It had been a long and extenuating conversation up to that moment, the more Althaea and Enver would bicker, the more the room would feel warm, and with Karlach's occasional comments, the tension was over the top.

The two were figuratively at each other’s throat. It was a battle of wit, and whether Althaea would end up accepting it or not was up to Enver’s skills.

She couldn’t deny the allure of the man, and she knew it was better to stay on his good side rather than his bad side.

“This won’t end well, mark my words” Karlach remarked with a scoff while Enver had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“I understand your concerns, my old friend, but allow me to demonstrate why you made the right choice.” He purred again, as if he had not tried to reason with them already. He couldn't help but notice Althaea's reaction, her frame shivering when he lowered his voice at last. “You should focus on finding the impostor in your camp” He dismissed Karlach with the useless information of the vanished druid as his eyes fell on Althaea again, already undressing her with his eyes.

"Let me show you how you'll benefit from this deal" He stepped closer to Althaea, making sure his words were low enough to caress her skin only.

She could even smell his thoughts as they floated in the room, between them, just like the polite dislike she felt towards him, inviting her brain to stir towards the thought of being bent over the throne, her legs spread for Gortash as he rolled his hips.

If his point was to get her aroused, he was doing way too good for her wellbeing.

“Let them out” Enver leaned forward and ordered with a whisper that was so rough she could have mistaken him for a rabid animal. A long shiver ran down her spine as she obliged.

It took her a moment to convince them it was safe, that she was going to be okay, and he was not going to hurt her, his mind had said so, his body had said so, and she knew he had better intentions than murdering her right there, or so she hoped.

“Where were we?” He asked, smiling as soon as everyone stepped out and the doors closed behind her.

“The benefits from the deal.” She raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him, wondering where he was going with his words and his behavior. She could tell he had other plans that didn't involve much talking and she hated that she wanted to find out what those plans were.

“Ah yes” He circled around her as if she was his prey and he was about to devour her, the tip of his gauntlet traced her jawline, gently tilting her head as if he wanted her to follow his gaze. “The benefits” He hummed as he was again in his original place. “Follow me, dear.” He offered his hand like a gentleman for her to take. “Let’s take a seat.”

She was dizzy by his words as she accepted his hand and followed him promptly, still trying to keep her composure as they had to come to some sort of compromise. She had to keep up the polite mask, ask for the right things and leave.

When they came close to the red lined throne, she was quick to catch up eased when Enver roughly gripped her hips and sat her in his lap, as if she was his pretty toy for everyone to see as he sat there regal.

She tried to keep her composure even though she could feel her wetness starting to seep through her now soaked panties, not too far from Enver’s thigh. “So, the benefits?” She smiled expectantly as she tried to ignore the redness of her cheeks.

“Well, let's start with a special seat for you, dear.” He purred as he hooked his arm under her legs to properly seat her in his lap, her legs dangling off one side of the golden throne, where she knew she could admire the hall in its whole beauty. She hummed as she didn't dare to look around yet.

“Don’t you like the view?” He teased as he guided her head towards the entrance to the room, from where she could see every corner of the hall. He made a particular effort in being delicate as she manhandled her, making sure she couldn't miss a chair even if she tried to look away again.

Earlier she didn't notice the tapestries hung on the high walls, setting the scene for the countless events that were held there.

“It’s pretty, but it’s not enough” She shrugged faking disinterest.

“Isn’t it?” He asked curiously as rested his gauntleted hand on her thigh deliberately. The cold gold almost stung against her warm skin as it inched way too close to her pussy. She had to focus on the deal and get out of there, she thought, she had to sort this out and leave.

“How about this?” He purred as his index finger made its way towards her soaked underwear, running a finger over her clothed heat. He let out a rough hum as his fingertips drenched just as quickly as she refused again.

“Not enough, sorry” She pushed her legs closed and tight, as the blush on her cheeks made her even more appealing at Enver's eyes.

He didn't retreat as he brushed the tips of the gauntlet on her tight, still reminding her where she was sitting and how sensitive she was to his touch. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He whispered as he made sure his lips brushed against her ear.

It didn't take much for her to smell the pungent scent of cheap cologne and sweat, quickly taking over all her senses.

One arm of his quickly wrapped around her middle, supporting her back as his slender fingers quickly spread her legs and moved her underwear to the side before diving ring-deep into her folds.

He let out a low, dark groan as her pussy clenched around his index finger the second it slid in. She was so wet for him, and he was so eager to see her crumble in his arms. The shallow whine she indulged in sounded like poetry to the man.

His thumb took its time to find her clit, gently teasing her sensitive nub. His skilled movements were leaving her breathless as she had to keep herself from moaning his name out loud whenever the pad of his finger would bring her so close.

“I suppose this is a good reason then?” He vexed her teasingly as he stopped on his tracks, waiting for her reply eagerly.

She was leaning against him just enough so she wouldn't lose balance as she gasped. Her body was still taught as if on the verge of a cliff awaiting to be pushed off, yet she was kept there, tense.

She shook her head no, the smallest hint of sanity left in her had pushed, reminding her that she couldn't give it all up for an orgasm, right?

“Ah, pity” He huffed as he quickly slid out his fingers, uncaring if it would stimulate her too much, leaving her gasping and empty, though still in his lap. She almost begged him to not retreat, the newfound need was already enough in her eyes for him to grasp at as he tsked.

"Need further reasons?" He asked wickedly as he undressed her with his eyes. He could already imagine how her shirt would tie nicely around her wrists as he pinned her down and he made sure she could feel his thought deep down her bones.

His eyes wouldn’t leave hers for a second, whenever she tried to look away, he’d gently grasp at her chin and bring her attention to him again. She could feel her body heating ever more under his skillful touch as he couldn't help himself but to feel her again, basking in the moment he allowed another finger to enter her, and he stole a soft mewl from her lips.

This time he was quick, hurried, abrupt as his fingers plunged and grasped at her breath, and just as quick he took his fingers away from her cunt, leaving her just at the cusp of her orgasm again.

“Please-” She let out as she begged to come, she could feel her orgasm so close, yet so far, just a few pumps away, although those ended up being denied to her.

“I apologize, I suppose that’s part of the deal, if you’ll accept of course” He whispered before he languidly brought his fingers in his mouth. He was so undeniably sexy, looking at her from under his dark lashes as he sucked her juices off his pads, the wet sound of his lips swallowing her was sending Althaea over the edge. “Ah how I wished you had agreed.” He sighed as he made sure he'd lick each finger clean. “I would have been delighted to taste this lovely juice directly from the source.”

She swore her eyes rolled at the back of her head just at the thought of his tongue taking a fat lick down her pussy, drenching his stubble with her wetness, and the way he had been swirling it along his fingers looked like a promise she might have been desperate enough to accept.

“Unless you need more, of course.” He noted sultry as he made no effort hiding what he was alluding to.

She hesitated. She wanted to reason, to ask what the accord would have stipulated, yet all she could focus on was the ache between her thighs and the need to be filled before she’d miss the chance.

She nodded as she gripped the edge of her skirt with a blush she couldn’t hide. He hummed satisfied as he quickly secured his arms around her, holstering her frail body and setting her down on the flush throne.

Quickly and uncaring he tore her panties away from her skin, and spread her pretty legs, revealing her sopping pussy to him.

He fell to his knees brazenly, bringing his face close to her heat, humming at the sight of her wetness dripping onto the chair.

His hot breath hitting her naked and dripping core right before his plump lips met with her cunt in a lazy lick, collecting her arousal on his tongue. A filthy growl escaped his lips as he dived between her legs, dedicating his attention to her needy clit, having her whole body shake under his tongue as pleasure overtook her senses completely.

No one ever remotely made her squirm with their tongue the way Enver was doing just about now as he traced figures eight on her swollen bud, her legs shaking as he guided them around his neck, resting them on his back and being totally engulfed face first in her pussy.

His finger soon joined, swiftly plunging into her core with ease. It was like she was losing control of her own body as he pumped his digit in her, hitting right where she needed it as his tongue eagerly swirled and licked her like a hungry and desperate man sitting in front of his last meal, devouring and dipping in her folds like a madman.

Althaea could barely keep her mouth shut as she wailed his name like a forbidden grace as a second finger slid in, his low moans reverberated through her as she sucked him in, clenching around his digits hungry for more, hungry for him.

He licked her, kissed her, savored her, every centimeter of her throbbing warm pussy getting him high off her, the most euphoric he’s ever been.

He pumped his fingers in her cunt insatiably as she could feel it build up, the familiar knot as her muscles tensed up, feeling the heat rise and her legs shake. Then when she finally could taste her orgasm on the tip of her tongue, he stopped again.

He looked at her almost feigning innocence as he cleaned his drenched stubble with his fingertips. He popped each one his mouth again, before sitting up and leaning forward in front of her.

She looked and felt so small under him as he towered menacingly above her, and even more when she noticed his erection aggressively pressing against his trousers.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her wide eyes, stealing a scoff from her. She turned away, her cheeks already bright crimson from the heat coming from her own body, the embarrassment just doubled up on her.

“ ‘suppose you like what you see?” He tantalized as he grasped at her chin, and harshly turned her head towards him.

She nodded a bit dazed from the fast movement as she was still slouched on the throne, legs wide open for him; before they could both line more words, he was on her again.

His lips trailed down her neck, peppering her skin with sloppy open-mouthed kisses as he mumbled praises against the hot flesh he was ready to devour. His body pressed heatedly against hers, his fingers hungrily digging in her skin as he earned a guttural moan from her.

“Accept and all of this will be yours” He rasped as he pressed his clothed hard cock against her cunt, grinding just enough to tease her and ease a bit his erection.

She knew what she was about to bargain with, yet her senses were taken over by her thirst, desperate for release. “Make me come and I’ll accept.” She purred as she bit her lip, almost drawing blood as eager as she was.

He tilted his head, still holding tight to her chin as he considered her offer. “Don’t know” He shook his head, not breaking eye contact with her. Though she was completely disheveled- half naked and slouching, she still didn’t lose her confidence. He liked it, she was breathtaking.

She was bold in her movements as he pushed away his hand from her chin and grabbed the collar of his button up. “Shut up and kiss me already.” She pulled him down as she sat up, making him space on the throne again and making sure she was straddling him comfortably.

Her legs perfectly draped over his lap as she pressed her warmth against his cock. She relentlessly held to his collar as their lips collided in a rough kiss.

His coarse lips felt scorching against her sweetness, taking over her senses with the aggressive and pungent taste of cheap wine and sweat. The second she tasted it, she knew she was not going to be able to give it up for anything.

He didn't get undressed, nor did he undress her more than her panties that were already missing, he simply quickly untied his pants and freed his cock. He was strong and the way he was holding her and guiding her on top of his cock was proof of it- just making Althaea more eager to be filled.

The cold of the golden gauntlet was just the tip of the iceberg as her body was so eager and close already. He had tortured enough, yet the way he pulled her up to have better access to her pussy, made her even hornier than before.

He was quick in sinking into her cunt, loudly and rough as he manhandled her effortlessly. “So tight, doll” He grunted as he dug his fingers in her soft flesh, stealing a strangled moan from Althaea’s loose lips.

She was lucky the chatter from outside was loud enough cause, if that was what he could coax out of her with one blunt thrust, she didn’t dare to imagine how she’d keep her lewd sounds unheard.

She stretched so nicely around him as he filled her to the brim, he didn’t wait for her to adjust before he’d start moving.

He did a good job hiding it until then, but he was dying to fuck her senseless. Looking at her tossing her head back and moaning his name sent a rush of adrenaline down his body to his cock as he mercilessly slammed into her.

One hand quickly snuck under her shirt, sloppily grabbing her breast and teasing her nipple as he could feel her already inching closer to her first orgasm.

The way she rode him drove him insane, unable to form sentences from time to time while the only thing he could do was use his hands to guide her, gripping her ass and helping her to keep some speed as she choked on her words.

All that could be heard was the sound of ragged breath and skin slapping as she tried to meet his speed. He had her wrapped around his cock so consumed as his movements did nothing but make her mewl and sub for him.

She didn’t have the power to question how he did it, but his hips met with her in such an electrifying way as he rolled deep in her.

With one deep thrust he had her eyes rolled back as he rammed her and fucked her till exhaustion.

“You’re mine” He rasped as the words mindlessly fell over his lips with a possessiveness neither expected. “You understand?” He demanded as he suddenly slowed down, his thrusts hitting deeper, till that sweet spot that made her toes curl and her stomach flutter.

Y-Yes” She mewled as his nails once more found her hips, pulled her down and closer to him

“Say it” He ordered as he deliberately let go of her hips, allowing gravity to harshly let her collide with him. “Who do you belong to?” He grabbed at her chin and guided her face towards his.

Her eyes were dilated, her mouth slack as she fucked herself on his cock desperately. “Yours” She wailed as her hips twitched frantically.

“Say my name, doll” He rasped as he could feel her cunt ready to milk him as he waited for her reply.

“I-I” She moaned as she could feel her orgasm pull over her. “B-belong” His hands gripped at her hips again, helping her come as he met her movements. “E-enver” She croaked and sobbed as she could barely hold on to herself anymore, the pleasure rippled under her skin uncontrollably, like a tidal wave pulling her in and out as she gushed over his cock.

His lips hungrily met with hers again as she sobbed a moan against them, his movements were sloppy just like his kiss as he let his own intense, reckless, arrogant orgasm was over him.

He carelessly came into her cunt, enjoying the view of his cum filling her to the brim and spilling on her legs. His words were a faint buzzing as she could barely feel her spine and leaned against him, yet she didn’t care anymore.

She had already fucked up when she accepted and there was no way back.

No way back from being fucked silly on a throne.

Just an handful of minutes later she was standing next to her companions, the closest she could get to presentable as his cum dribbled down her thighs as she sealed her deal with Enver, that smirked at her.

“I, lord Enver Gortash, in the name of Bane, swear I shall do you no harm, and we will rise together over Toril as a roaring sun” He smiled boldly at her, as he offered her his hand, waiting just for her to take it.

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the-punforgiven · 6 months ago

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Shadow of the Erdtree spoilers:

Running through shadowkeep I realized that I kind of love Messmer's whole vibe tbh

Man's literally SO dedicated to being a villain, to painting himself as a big scary bad guy with almost everything he does. He's trying so hard to look like a violent fanatical zealot, while also covering himself in imagery declared blasphemous to the Golden Order

Dude made the conscious decision to design himself an incredibly imposing gigantic dread fortress of black stone named Shadow Keep. He hangs out in the Dark Chamber of the Shadow Keep. He commands the Black Knights. He holds the title of The Impaler and has a museum full of corpses in his house that is also lined with spears fucking everywhere, just in case you forgot he was The Impaler. Dude's SO fucking dedicated to the Dark Lord aesthetic it's unreal

And like, that was my main thought throughout exploring his place, was like "Wow, this guy feels a lot more like, Classic Fantasy Villain in vibe than a lot of Fromsoft's villains, it's kinda funny how evil this guy presents, Fromsoft's really hammin' this one up lol"

So I hope that kinda adds some perspective as to why reading the item description of his armor hit me the way it did

Like "Oh. This is intentional."

#pun's text posts #Elden Ring #messmer the impaler #Shadow of the Erdtree spoilers

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felassan · 4 months ago

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Just some info I noted down from today's video in text form, under a cut due to what some peeps may consider spoilers, and length.

This video took place well into the game, meaning the beats in it are later in the storyline.

At least part of Davrin’s personal arc involves rescuing the griffons. In an earlier part of his arc you are introduced to his nemesis, the Gloom Howler, a creature that has been hunting and stalking Wardens for quite some time. It has kidnapped a bunch of non-Assan griffons and Davrin has been trying to track it down. In the quest shown in the video, he has found a lead and wants to go and track it down and get the griffons back from the Cauldron (a secret Grey Warden redoubt that was attacked). Davrin wonders what the Wardens were hiding inside the Cauldron, as he has no idea. When the party reaches the Cauldron, they find that something large tore down the gate. The party needs to find a way inside and help Davrin investigate.

Davrin prefers a Direct approach in dialogue. Tough dialogue choices can gain approval from him

The bond between a griffon and a Warden moving as one and having unity between them is called “turlum”. Davrin and Assan don’t yet have this

Grey Wardens: Lancit, Remi, Landon, Quincy, Miriel, Fisher, Greta, Beckett, Flynn (an apprentice physician, whose mentor is called Oskar). I think Flynn’s pronouns are they/them. We will do quests with Flynn including A Cabin in the Blight. They were treating patients and became low on medical supplies. Their mentor Oskar has some and lives in a cabin outside the village. Flynn asks Rook to tell Oskar they could use his help if Rook sees him when they are out there. Flynn is local to Lavendel and saw the Blight surge through their home.

A Grey Warden merchant / quartermaster is called Holden. The little girl seen with Davrin in the release date trailer is called Mila.

If you do content in an area it helps you discover more shortcuts, giving you more flexibility in how you navigate between different remaining missions and quests

Each exploration space has its own story to tell. The quests and sidequests there are narratively relevant and also contribute to a meta story/meta narrative about that space. In Hossberg / Lavendel the aim is to get to the center of the Blighty stuff that has been going on there

Another Warden sidequest called Lives Spared seems to involve some missing Wardens who haven’t checked in in a while

Rook inherits the Lighthouse willingly or unwillingly from Solas. It’s located in the Fade and is where Solas was able to start planning his rebellion against the elven gods millennia ago

The Lighthouse shapes itself around your personality. Companions’ rooms there shape themselves around the companions as they live there and go through their arcs. A glowing light above the entrance to a companion’s room indicates that they are ready to talk to us

Hossberg is a later game area. Hossberg Wetlands are dark swamps and the area has almost completely been consumed by the Blight, making it a lot more dangerous than before. As a zone it’s quite contiguous and has lots of branching paths and different areas to explore. The Grey Wardens set up shop in an outpost/fortress (this is only one of their bases) there called Grey Hold in the small town of Lavendel, which used to be a beautiful place full of life and flowers. The Blight has had a serious effect on Lavendel, but the residents are still there and trying to make the most of it. There are plenty of opportunities to help the residents.

The Wardens have noticed that something strange is going on; the Blight is not behaving as it should or as they would expect, or like it has done historically. A codex entry pops up called “An Improved Blight”. (basically we are getting Blight dialled up to eleven) Rook is there to work with the Wardens, help them out, and help them find the answer to their question about the Blight. In their outpost the Wardens have built up a small fighting force to hold off the darkspawn. They understand the stakes of the gods being released and want to help you but they have other priorities, so increasing their power allows them to contribute more meaningfully to your fight against the elven gods. The Blight has changed. It’s become a lot more organic, a lot more alive. Once a slow-moving wall, it now has almost-sentience and almost-thought behind it. This has something to do with the released Blighted elven gods.

Something bad happened to a place called D’Meta’s Crossing, it’s no longer standing.

It sounds like Weisshaupt has fallen.

Merchant shops can be upgraded, doing so unlocks new items.

The Crossroads is a location in the Fade that contains a number of eluvians, allowing you to travel across Thedas in a matter of minutes. At the point the video takes place, the Crossroads are under assault by the elven gods. It’s now a dangerous place.

The big eluvian in the Lighthouse is called the Vir Revas. (that could translate as Way/Path of Freedom). It’s the central focus point of the Lighthouse and it takes you to Solas’ pocket area of the Crossroads, which looks different to what we’ve seen in Trespasser. “A path has emerged from the mists of the Fade that leads to a gathering point where all eluvians meet – the Crossroads”. We will spend a lot of time travelling through the Crossroads as we go from area to area. At one point, it was also a space that served as Solas’ main base of operations and training ground for his rebellion against the elven gods. As we go through it we will find fragments of the past, things that Solas did previously that will give us insight into him as a character, and also into the elven gods and their motivations. If you go exploring in the Crossroads there are opportunities to relive some of the memories Solas had during his rebellion. We will actually get to take part in this ancient rebellion.

The Crossroads as a realm reflects the waking world. It’s a mix/ amalgamation of all the real world spaces that are tied to it, in this case for example Hossberg and other mountainous regions that exist in the game. The architecture around the eluvians here very clearly reflects where they lead. The first time you go to any of the new regions in the world you traverse the Crossroads to get there. After that you can fast travel if you want. But exploring the Crossroads is recommended because some of the deepest secrets lie within

There is a mysterious spirit in the Crossroads called The Caretaker who was there before Solas was. They started to help Solas with his rebellion and also to turn the area into a safe haven for spirits, as Solas loves spirits. In the video we see them piloting a boat through the air to transport Rook somewhere. Because the gods are assaulting the Crossroads, it’s no longer the safe haven it once was. Rook works with the Caretaker through a lot of ancillary content to rebuild it into a safe home for spirits.

There is an area in the Crossroads called Beacon Island

The darkspawns’ different looks is very intentional. Their new look is in part because Ghilan’nain, described here as "the god of monsters", has always been focused on using the Blight essentially as a crafting material, a way to alter life itself. she’s been enhancing and changing the darkspawn as part of her army. She uses Blight like a medium to sculpt and warp the darkspawn to do her bidding and suit her purposes. The idea is that the Blight and the darkspawn are an organic weapon. Instead of making swords and armor, the darkspawn use the Blight to augment themselves, effectively defeat you and give the gods the world that they desire. The darkspawn aren’t just coming out of nowhere. They emerge from Blight pools, like the Blight is spawning them. Part of Ghil’s attempts to turn this into an army for the gods is to use them for overwhelming force. Hurlock Blighters have disgusting growths on their backs that they throw, making them function like grenadiers as they rip off these pieces of themselves and throw them at you - these then explode as Blight – this kind of enemy design for the darkspawn is supposed to lean into the idea that the Blight is organic and disgusting. In places there are Blight boils throughout the area, and if Rook doesn’t destroy them during combat ghouls will continue to emerge from them.

It sounds like in terms of ‘factions of enemies’ and their designs, we have the darkspawn which use overwhelming force tactics, the Venatori which focus on magical power, and the Antaam which focus on physical strength

Zipline traversal is in

Each mage’s (Neve, Bellara, Emmrich) healing ability is thematically appropriate to them

I think Davrin’s special exploration ability, or one of them, is called Blight Hunter. (one of the ones Rook can channel through the dagger when that companion isn’t there). This summons Assan from above to destroy Blight Abscesses. He seems to have another as well that Rook can also use via the dagger called Griffon Strike. In the video Rook uses this one to destroy a mechanism that was keeping a load of wood suspended in the air from a beam.

We see Rook also using the dagger to "charge beam" and destroy what looked like a thick tendril of organic Blight across the ground, and to destroy a ‘wall’ of blight abscesses that was blocking the way. At one point in the video Rook comments that the dagger is vibrating, "like a song in a wine glass"

When companions go ahead to meet you at quests they’re invested in, they won’t complete them without you, but they do get things ready. If you start doing those quests and don’t have them in your party, they will move ahead of you and wait for you at the next point.

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #<- this is my spoiler tag #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #solas #lgbtq

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mumms-the-word · 2 months ago

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So I’ve played a bit more Veilguard and y’all

Y’ALL

Y’AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL

Spoilers below the cut (which I may turn into a lore post later idk)

UM SOUTHERN THEDAS IS DYING?

I have everything spoiler tagged and hidden, idk if people are talking about this but EXCUSE ME??

MY WARDENS AND HAWKES ARE IN DANGER

Okay but like let’s think about this for real (I'm going off memory from replaying the "meet the inquisitor" scene like 3-4 times so forgive any missed details; also I disbanded the Inquisition in this game so idk if that has an effect yet)

Inquisitor and Morrigan said that the south is under siege from a legion, an army, a swarm of darkspawn the likes of which Thedas has never seen. Thanks Ghilan’nain for creating new horrors. That sounds bad but then it gets worse

Denerim, a city that has canonically withstood the Fifth Blight and was the showdown site for a battle against a darkspawn army and an archdemon, is lost. We lost the capital of Ferelden.

Everyone is fleeing to Redcliffe, which is decently defensible but not impenetrable. Redcliffe has already suffered waves of undead and (theoretically) a super dark pseudo-future full of demons and red Templars and such. It stood up pretty well against both, but it’s not great if it’s Ferelden’s last stand against the darkspawn.

What about the Hinterlands? Amaranthine? Gwaren? Inquisitor writes that Ostagar and the Korcari Wilds are seeing surges of darkspawn again--that's where the darkspawn poured forth during the Fifth Blight. That's not good!

Orzammar is helping, but I can’t imagine they’re not also suffering. Are the darkspawn flooding the Deep Roads? Orzammar can’t defend against them forever if it’s worse than we think. Are the Legion of the Dead overwhelmed?

Kirkwall has fallen. A city that has withstood, within the last 25 years, a refugee crisis from the Fifth Blight, a violent qunari invasion, the explosion of their Chantry and the ensuing mage-templar chaos that nearly brought the city to its knees, and the Breach, which opened up dozens of Fade rifts in the city that Varric was still dealing with after the Breach was actually closed. It's gone, it's unlivable, so much so that the Acting Viscount had to evacuate her city and her army to freaking Starkhaven, which is usually their mortal enemy (Prince Sebastian Vael tends to want to annex or control Kirkwall smh)

(Also Aveline is Acting Viscount? that makes sense and also I love that for her, but man what a time to be in charge)

Ostwick, the home city for Trevelyans, is threatened by the rogue Antaam, so I can only imagine that Wycome, where a surviving Clan Lavellan would be, is also threatened by the Antaam (Wycome is closer to Antiva and Rivain anyway). And the rest of the Free Marches is apparently experiencing "the worst" of the darkspawn threat. How many cities other than Kirkwall have fallen? Like Ferelden, what's happening in the spaces between?

In Orlais, the darkspawn have apparently cut a line directly through the country. Both Halamshiral and Val Royeaux are barely holding out, which is partly surprising and partly not. Halamshiral and Val Royeaux are luxurious cities, not defensible fortresses. That said, they have the benefit of the Orlesian monarchy's standing army and the Divine's templar (or templar-equivalent) army, so perhaps that's why they're both still standing.

But I imagine the Exalted Plains, the Dales, the desert landscapes of the Western Approach (which already had lingering darkspawn threats)....those must be suffering. Are the Dales themselves blights, the greenery dying? Is the newly-healing land of the Plains now facing death and destruction again?

I mean, yes, the threat of the gods in the north is also very bad but I am stuck on this idea of trying to figure out how our beloved characters from the last three games are dealing with this! This is their turf!

We know the Inquisitor is running around trying to help but what about everyone else? Like, can you imagine...

How is Alistair doing, facing a blight that has been described as "worse than any blight the world has ever seen"? Either he's a warden and he's sick of dealing with this, or he's the king and he's facing the total annihilation of his kingdom again, only this time the odds are infinitely worse. Is his Warden wife fighting alongside him, or is his Queen helping him keep everything together?

What about Zevran? Is he staying in Antiva, causing chaos among the Antaam who have taken over various cities there, or does his Warden romance convince him to go down south to try and help? And Leliana? if she's Divine, she's likely manning the chantry's armed forces, but if not, where is she operating? Is she with her lover, the Warden, or if she's alone, is she back in the game of fielding information to all the necessary forces who need them? She's not the Inquisition spymaster anymore, but that doesn't mean she's not active

Aveline is fleeing to Starkhaven, where Sebastian is, and Varric is with us in the lighthouse. Isabela is with the Lords of Fortune. What about the rest? Did Merrill flee with Aveline? Is Hawke with them? Or is Hawke with Anders, or Fenris, fighting wherever they need to be? (Assuming, of course, they're not left in the Fade). What about Bethany or Carver, if they're alive? If they're Wardens, surely they're in the thick of it, fighting darkspawn. If they're not, have they gone with Aveline to Starkhaven?

And our DAI friends. Cullen is in Ferelden--has he joined forces at Redcliffe, if he's not romancing the Inquisitor? Is his family okay? Dorian is in Minrathous, we can safely assume Josephine is in Antiva City. I can only assume Josephine is trying her best to keep Antiva City safe through her connections and influence, but how long until events there force her to leave too?

Cassandra is from Nevarra so she may be home, or she's Divine, or she's traveling. If she isn't with her romanced Inquisitor and she isn't the Divine, surely she's out there fighting. Against what? Venatori in Nevarra? Or will her allegiances to Orlais bring her down there to aid a Divine Leliana? Sera is still in Orlais too, presumably, as a Jenny that helps the Divine. Are they both facing the darkspawn threat?

If Blackwall is a Warden, is he even still alive? If he's not a Warden, I can imagine he's back in the Free Marches, fighting darkspawn until his dying breath. Iron Bull and his Chargers, too, if they're all alive from DAI. Whether he's in Orlais, Ferelden, the Free Marches, or passing near Tevinter to be with Dorian, he and his team must be constantly dealing with the blight and the gods acting crazy. Unless, of course, he or Blackwall are with the Inquisitor, fighting right there on the front lines.

Vivienne has probably rallied mages in whatever Circle she's established to help, but help how? Joining the forces of the Divine, or leading a campaign of her own? If Cole is human, is he finding little ways of helping, or has he been human so long that he's forgotten how? If he's a spirit, he's back beyond the Veil. Does the chaos in the south now draw him back? How can a spirit of Compassion, whether human or spirit, deal with what is happening all across Thedas?

I have so many thoughts. And I will probably write fic about it. It all just keeps churning in my head. I love it. It's horrifying. The game may have moved on very quickly from it but boy oh boy am I thinking about my Wardens and Hawkes and Inquisitors and going "What are you going to do?? The world is dying!!"

If I learn more I'll turn this into a lore post that isn't hidden by a cut, but for now I have some mural memories to live through (time to cry about Solas again) and then it's side quest city babyyyy so idk when I'll have an update again lol

if you made it this far, well done :') appreciate you

thank for joining me in this chaos!

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age spoilers #datv spoilers #da4 #I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS #no one else seems to be going as feral about this as I am #so idk what that says about me #I'm just #AAAAHHHHH #that's how I feel

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