#dynasty seeds

[arinewman7]

Poppies and Insect

from The Mustard Seed Garden Manual of Painting (Jieziyuan Huapu)

Vol. 1, China, Qing dynasty, late 18th century (1782 edition)

Page from a woodblock-printed book; ink and color on paper

[xtruss]

Archaeologists Excavating the Tomb of Egypt’s First Female Pharaoh Found Hundreds of Jars Still Holding Remnants of Wine

The dig has also shed new light on the reign of the ancient queen.

— Adam Schrader | October 18, 2023

An archaeology team has discovered evidence that the Ancient Egyptian Queen Merneith “had a great position” and was responsible for the central government offices. Photo courtesy of Egypt’s Ministry of Tourism and Archaeology

Archaeologists digging in one of the oldest cities in Egypt have discovered evidence that sheds new light on the life of the ancient Egyptian queen Merneith, who ruled during the 1st Dynasty.

The excavation of a tomb in the Umm al-Qaab area in Abydos found an inscription on a “Stone Vessel” that provides new historical information about Merneith’s reign, during which she held “A Great Position” and was responsible for the central government offices, said Christiana Köhler, who led the dig.

“It has been speculated that Merneith may have been the first female Pharaoh in Ancient Egypt,” Köhler said in a news release, “but her true identity remains a mystery,”

A fragment of a stone vessel recently found in the tomb of Queen Merneith. It has an incised inscription with her name on the right and the mention of the royal treasury on the left. Photo courtesy of EC Köhler, M Minotti.

Köhler specified that Merneith, also known as Meret-Neith, may have been in charge of the treasury among other government offices, supporting the idea of her historical significance. She is the only 1st-Dynasty woman whose tomb has been uncovered in Abydos so far.

“Considering that these are the remains of people’s lives and actions from 5,000 years ago, we are stunned every day at the amazing detail we encounter during our investigations, including the perfectly preserved grape seeds, craftwork and even footprints in the mud,” Köhler said over email.

The Wine Jars are seen during the excavation of Merneith’s Tomb. Photo courtesy of Egypt’s Ministry of Tourism and Archaeology

Perfectly Preserved Grape 🍇 Seeds: Egypt’s Tourism Ministry highlighted hundreds of 5,000-year-old wine jars found in the tomb in the Umm al-Qaab area in Abydos, one of the oldest cities in Egypt located about 354 miles south of Cairo. Photo courtesy of Egypt’s Ministry of Tourism and Archaeology

Discoveries made in the dig also “challenge the long-held belief in human sacrifice,” Köhler added in the news release.

Next to Merneith’s burial site, archaeologists found a group of 41 tombs for her courtiers and servants, indicating these chambers were built during different periods of time.

“This observation, together with other evidence, radically challenges the oft-proposed, but unproven idea of ritual human sacrifice in the 1st Dynasty,” Köhler said.

The news release highlighted the discovery of hundreds of 5,000-year-old wine jars that had never been opened. The archaeological team—hailing from Egypt, Germany and Austria—found the remains of wine inside.

Mustafa Waziri, Secretary General of Egypt’s Supreme Council of Antiquities, said in a statement that the discovered jars are large in size and “in a good condition of preservation.”

“Some of them are very well preserved with their jar stoppers still intact,” Köhler said.

[corvidaescreations]

Dew Drops on Light Bamboo Skin, Wen Tong | 輕筠滴露 , 摹文湖州筆意

Thin branches of bamboo with long tattered leaves. Painted by Wen Tong (Song dynasty era) and transferred to woodblock by means of thin rice paper tracing. Digitally restored in vector.

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[headspace-hotel]

you know how people say "cats domesticated themselves?" I find this statement irksome because as i've been studying plants and particularly weeds, a theory has slowly been forming in my head about domestication that makes a lot more sense than other theories.

Basically, I think everything domesticated itself. Or rather, domestication involves adaptation and active participation on both sides.

Evidence for this is found in studying weed and crop plants—truth be told, most weeds are or were also crops.

Amaranthus, the genus that gives us the most costly USA agricultural weeds? All edible and healthy, and several members of the genus are domesticated. They were staple crops for Mesoamerican empires.

Kudzu, the vine so aggressive in the USA it turns trees into looming kudzu monoliths? It's been bred and cultivated by humans since the Neolithic in its native range, in China it was one of the main sources of fiber for cloth for MILLENNIA to the point that the Zhou dynasty had a whole government office of kudzu affairs. Kudzu roots are edible and they can be as tall as a human and weighing over 200 pounds, you can make them into flour, make noodles out of the flour, you can process them down into a starch and use it just like potato or tapioca starch and make all sorts of sauces and confections and stuff out of it. In Japan it was used for clothes too, if you see pictures of clothes worn by a samurai that's probably kudzu! It has loads of unresearched phytochemicals that probably have medicinal use, it's good for making paper, a researcher even made a biodegradable alternative to plastic out of it

Yellow Nutsedge is a food crop, Purslane is a food crop, at least some species of morning-glories are food crops, crabgrass is a food crop, Nettles are food AND fiber, Milkweed is food and fiber too, Broadleaf Plantain is food and medicinal, Dandelion is food and medicinal AND great companion plant (they used to sell them in seed catalogues around the 1890's or so!) and have y'all ever seen queen-anne's-lace along the side of the road? THATS CARROTS. That's the wild ancestor of carrots! (ofc don't eat anything you aren't 1000% sure you can identify)

Simply put. A weed is a plant that has co-evolved with humans. And most of them are Like That because they co-evolved with us. And honestly I reckon that many plants were domesticated in the first place because they liked to grow in disturbed environments near human settlements and agricultural fields.

Now thinking about this in terms of animals...when our domestic species were first domesticated, there weren't fences, there wasn't "inside" or any controlled environment to bring animals into, and if you tried to overpower or coerce any of those species, they would 100% just kill you. It makes a lot more sense if the humans were just following herds around, and it gradually developed into protecting those herds from predators and tending to them more intentionally until we were kind of just part of the herds ourselves.

a lot of people are familiar with Biblical stories and metaphors about shepherds...it's clear those guys were basically living with sheep 24/7. They were assimilated to the sheep lifestyle.

this theory kinda suggests that we've lost the ability to domesticate new animal species to some extent because domestication has never really involved removing an animal from its natural environment. Feeding wild animals and trying to socialize them to humans isn't in line with the mutualistic nature of domestication because it's trying to change the animal to our whims, and usually decreases the fitness of the animal rather than increases it. And domestication probably takes a long long time to reach the level where an animal can be a "pet" instead of a more distant form of domestication where the association is not as close.

EXCEPT. Animals that adapt to our environment are prime candidates for domestication. This actually checks out because rats and mice are some of the most recently domesticated animals, iirc. Basically, pest animals are the most likely to be domesticated because they've already started evolving into a relationship with us. Just like weeds.

An interesting side note is how both animals and plants can de-domesticate and become "weeds/pests" again. Like "weedy rice" is becoming a problem in some crops where rice has evolved into a weed. And with animals, there's pigeons who were domesticated by us and now their habitat is cities because they co-evolved with us.

[fairysluna]

To cure your writer‘s block: Maegor Targaryen + breeding his niece to get an heir 🤭

I wrote this on a rush, and this is my first attempt to write for Maegor after months. I hope you like this, my maegor queen 👑. Ily🤍

TW: smut, breeding kink, targcest, targ!fem!reader.

His whole weight was pressing you down, caging you between his broad body and the mattress beneath you. His hand was around your neck, squeezing it tight as his hips kept snapping against your arse over and over. You were sobbing, gasping and mewling as he ripped another orgasm out of you; you had lost count on how many times he had made you peak, too drunk in pleasure to even think straight. His cock would stretch you out so deliciously that it made you drool onto the sheets, your tightness wrapping him so good it made his body shake.

The sticky mess between your legs grew bigger when your release washed over you; his seed oozed out of you and he grunted in disapproval, hating to see it go to waste. You were so full already, yet it wasn't enough for him. “Keep it in or I'll have to fill you up again,” he groaned.

“I c-can’t…” you managed to mumble between loud sobs, feeling his cock emptying itself inside of you for what you thought was the third time. Your spongy walls clamped down his shaft, making him tremble as he was accidentally overstimulating himself. “I’m… I'm so full, p-please…”

“Uh, uh…” Maegor hummed, hissing as he pulled out of you. He turned you around, noticing the mess he had made out of you; your platinum hair sticking in your face due to the sweat and tears that had fallen down your cheeks. The bruises on your skin as a sign of his roughness, the one you loved so much. He hummed, pleased with what he was seeing. “You should not let it go to waste.”

You yelped when he lifted your hips, wrapping his arms around your belly and placing your legs on his shoulders. It was an uncomfortable position for you, but seeing the bewitched glint on his eyes, how pussydrunk he looked for you, made it all worth it. He spat on your cunt, and with his fingers he collected the seed that had tried to escape from you and put it back, burying his fingers deep inside of you. You squirmed, already feeling achy and sore, yet he didn't seem to care. “Stubborn little girl,” he murmured, seeing how you clenched around his fingers. Pearly drops escaped from your weeping entrance. “Guess I will have to fill you up one more time, just to make sure.”

“Maegor…” you begged him, not sure if you were going to be able to handle another one. However, the way you uttered his name lightened something primal within him, making it impossible to resist you. He let go of your hips, only to spread your legs as wide as possible. The coldness of the winter breeze reached your reddened flesh and made you cry out louder than it should.

“Shh… be a good girl for your king and take what I'm giving you.” Before you could answer, his thick head made its way inside of you, stretching you once more and making you squeal.

It was going to be a long night.

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

GENERAL TAG LIST — @islandfantasydream @arcielee @bucknastysbabe @zaldritzosrose @rafeism @valeskafics

MAEGOR TAG LIST — @targaryen-dynasty @hypocritic-trash-baby @mariahossain

[bloddysnow]

Summary: You are an emperor, and you have your own harem consisting of four consorts.

Pairings: Sub! Sylus x Dom! reader

nsfw minors dni

Sylus’s on the balcony of your quarters, feeling a light breeze caressing his skin. The stars and the moon shone brightly in the sky, giving the night a magical shade. In this tranquility, he’s enjoying the silence, allowing his thoughts to wander freely.

He remembers, the first time he went to the emperor's quarters after the wedding as a ritual. He was carefully prepared for the first night with you.

It all started with a hot bath filled with fragrant oils and rose petals. The aromas of lavender, jasmine and sandalwood mixed in the air, enveloping them in a warm cloud of exquisite aroma.

After the bath, his skin was saturated with aromas and became soft as silk. The servants with respect and caution helped to dress up in the most chic clothes decorated with precious stones, which shone like stars. These outfits were made of the finest fabrics, decorated with gold and silver threads that shone in the light of candles. It was like art created specifically for this special moment. Thin bracelets and necklaces, sounding melodious with every movement, added even more elegance and refinement.

When the preparations were completed, the waiting moment came. His heart was beating faster, filled with excitement and anticipation. He stood at the door leading to your quarters, feeling the solemnity of the moment.

Sylus remembers how he was taught to behave on the first night. He must show his respect by kissing the hem of your clothes. Eyes shouldn't have met yours. He was forbidden to address you by your name. The most important thing concerned his innocence. That night there had to be proof of his purity - blood, that would be evidence of his virginity.

If the emperor was pleased, he remained in the quarters until the morning. If you found him attractive, he got the opportunity to be breed, which was the highest sign of favor and recognition of his beauty. This meant that you found him worthy to carry your seed, symbolizing the continuation of the family and the strengthening of the dynasty.

The emperor's quarters were magnificent. The soft light of the candles was reflected in mirrors and precious stones, creating a magical play of light and shadows. The air was saturated with aromas of incense, which filled the space with peace and warmth. Floor, covered with luxurious carpets, made his steps soft and almost inaudible. There was silence around, broken only by the light crackling of the flame of candles.

He held his head low when he carefully kissed the hem of your fabric. You gently took him by the chin, lifting his face. His eyes, full of passion and fear, met yours. Sylus was the embodiment of beauty that you wanted to keep in your memory forever. You ran your hand over his cheeks, gently straightening his hair behind his ear. He was so nervous that his hands squeezed his own clothes. There was a tense silence in the room, every sound seemed louder.

"Your Highness I..." you interrupted him with an unexpected kiss on the lips. His cheeks and ears were red, and his lips were slightly open and trembling.

"I'll please you. Do you want it?" you asked, your voice was soft. He forgot how to breathe for a moment. The look of his eyes became even more focused, he seemed lost at that moment.

"Thank you for your mercy your majesty. It's a great honor for me," he whispered, struggling to hold back the trembling in his voice.

Sylus cried in pain, feeling his body torn into two parts. You wanted the process to be less painful as possible, so carefully put only the tip. He held the white sheets tightly, moaned quietly, trying to cope with the overwhealed sensations. His hole was too tight for your cock to enter. You raised his legs to his shoulders, changing the angle of penetration. At that moment, he whined loudly, hugging your neck. His breathing was intermittent and his eyes were full of tears. Your cock entered with one sharp push. A drop of blood came out of his hole, indicating that his hole had lost its innocence. Your cock is deep inside him, and he felt a mixture of pain and pride. He was proud of himself.

He remembers how on the first night you thanked him by breeding him with your seeds. He was so young and naive that when you cum inside, he sincerely told you that he’s pregnant now. Your laughter filled the room. His youth and inexperience were charming. He still smiles when he remembers that evening. This moment has become one of those bright and unforgettable memories that he keeps in his heart.

Suddenly, he felt warm hands wrapped around his waist, and a light smile played on his lips. You came up from behind, pressing your face against the curve of his neck and inhaled his pleasant, soothing aroma. His hands gently caressed yours, twisting your fingers. He looked dreamily at the stars, which seemed to crumble across the sky with endless diamonds.

Moonlight fell on his face, illuminating his features and making them even more expressive. His skin seemed silvery, and his eyes twinkled in the dark, reflecting the light of the moon and stars. You raised your hands to his chest, gently squeezing it, feeling his heart beating. His chest rose and fell with every breath.

"It's beating for you, your highness," Sylus whispered, looking at the starry sky. His words sounded like a quiet prayer or a wish directed to an endless height. You kiss his neck, gently and affectionately. Your lips touched his skin with warmth and love, as if conveying all your feelings through this simple but meaningful gesture.

Masterlist

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Chapter 2: Against his best wishes, Jace learns more about you. When the dragonseeds arrive at Dragonstone and you follow them to Vermithor, he has two choices, intervene and save you from inevitable death, or let fate play out.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Dragonseed (f) reader

Jacaerys Velaryon stood alone in the study, the flickering candle casting shadows on the maps and documents spread on the table. Even though he had dismissed you, your presence lingered in his mind.

He knew he had been harsh, more so than necessary. That was not how he was raised to treat the staff. Rhaenyra had always emphasised the importance of respect and kindness towards those who served them. Yet, your having Targaryen blood had triggered something within him, a defensive reaction he couldn't quite understand. Those purple eyes of yours kept flashing in his mind.

You were beneath him, a mere servant. But you were also a potential threat to his legitimacy. If his mother's intentions to raise a bastard army were true, your very existence could undermine his claim to the throne.

Jace paced the room, his mind racing. In this cutthroat world of politics and power, he could trust no one but himself. Only he had his best interests at heart.

He clenched his fists. He would secure his place as heir, no matter the cost. He would show the dragon seeds that he was to be their king, the one true successor of the Targaryen dynasty.

Jace returned to his maps, his resolve unyielding. He knew he had to play carefully, balancing his duty to his family and his ambitions. The dragon seeds would see him as their rightful leader, along with the rest of Westeros, and he would ensure that any threats to his rule were swiftly dealt with.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As he passed through the corridors, Jace caught sight of you scrubbing the floors of the great hall, a knocked over goblet next to you, spilling wine across the stone floor.

"You clumsy fool!" A steward barked, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you to your feet. "Do you know how long it took to clean this? You’ll redo the entire hall or go without supper for a week!"

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed as he watched you flinch, the tears welling up in your eyes, the stammering apology—all of it struck something within him. A pang of sympathy. But another emotion surged within—anger.

How dare someone treat a Targaryen, even a bastard, with such disdain?

He gripped the hilt of his sword. The urge to intervene was strong. But he remained in the shadows.

Only Targaryens should have the power to be cruel to their own blood. No lowborn piece-of-shit steward had the right to mistreat you.

As the man finally released you, leaving you trembling, Jacaerys’ gaze lingered on him. His expression remained unreadable as he turned away, continuing down the corridor with a twisted resolve forming within him.

You were a Targaryen, however distant, and deserved better than this. Yet, you were also a possible threat to his claim.

The image of you, frightened and mistreated, stayed with him. He knew one thing for certain: if anyone dared to harm you again, they would pay a steep price. Only he had the right to decide your fate.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jace soared through the sky on Vermax as he made his way back from the riverlands after securing an alliance with the Tullys.

As he flew over the market square, his keen eyes caught sight of a familiar figure.

You were making your way towards the castle, a basket of fruits in hand. Your pace was slow and thoughtful as you walked past a group of commonfolk, most of them blonde surrounded by guards. Jace watched as you curiously eyed them before approaching and speaking to one of them. Whatever they said to you seemed to spark something in you, and after a brief moment of contemplation, you continued into the castle, following them.

Jacaerys landed near the dragon pit, slipping off Vermax and making his way stealthily towards the castle. He moved discreetly through the corridors, eventually making his way to the throne room. Hiding behind an entrance, he observed as Rhaenyra Targaryen addressed the gathered common folk, her tone authoritative and promising.

His mother’s intentions became clear as she prepared to lead the dragonseeds to the dragon pit. Jacaerys' heart sank as he realised her plan was to introduce them to Vermithor. It was a dangerous idea and could turn deadly.

Quietly trailing behind them down to the dragon pit, he finally spotted you among them, your eyes wide with awe as you stared at the horrifying creature. Your naive fascination bothered him. How could you and the others be so ignorant of the obvious danger in front of you? The sheer recklessness of it all made him roll his eyes.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer. He remembered seeing you being berated by one of the castle stewards just a few days ago. He could see now why you might be desperate to claim a dragon; to rise above the life of a servant.

Rhaenyra walked past the group, and out of the dragon pit, Jace hid behind one of the doors, out of her sight. Then he seized the moment. He slipped past the crowd, moving swiftly so as not to get noticed.

You felt a hand grip your arm, pulling you back from the crowd and out of the room, before your back hit the rough surface of a stone wall in the corridor.

You blinked, shocked to see the Targaryen prince's stern face staring down at you. "My prince!" you exclaimed, struggling to pull free. "I know I told you I wouldn't. But the queen—"

Jacaerys cut you off, his voice low and urgent. "You need to leave. Rhaenyra has led these people to certain death."

Your eyes widened. That didn't sound right. Rhaenyra was always merciful, at least as far as you knew. Always considerate of the small folk. Surely, she wouldn't lead them to a trap.

Before you could protest, the roar of Vermithor filled the chamber. A blaze of fire erupted from the dragon’s jaws, catching the first volunteer. The sight was horrifying as the dragon began devouring the rest of the screaming volunteers.

Panic surged through you as the full scale of the danger became apparent. Jace held you firmly, guiding you away from the chaos. His grip was unyielding, but it was a lifeline in the midst of the nightmare unfolding before you.

As the smoke and fire filled the dragon pit, Jace pulled you to safety, his face set in grim determination. In that moment, you understood the gravity of the situation. The danger was undeniable, and as you fled with him, a new awareness dawned on you. You weren't safe here.

Tag list:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

@rav9n-16

@dracaryxzs

@jacaeryvardaddy

@ericasabe

[najia-cooks]

[ID: Two plates of cookies, one oval and topped with powdered sugar, and the others shaped in rings; one cookie is broken in half to show a date filling; two glasses of coffee on a silver tray are in the background. End ID]

معمول فلسطيني / Ma’moul falastini (Palestinian semolina cookies)

Ma’moul (also transliterated “ma’amoul,” “maamoul” and “mamoul”) are sweet pastries made with semolina flour and stuffed with a date, walnut, or pistachio filling. The cookies are made tender and crumbly with the addition of fat in the form of olive oil, butter, or clarified butter (سمن, “samn”); delicate aromatics are added by some combination of fennel, aniseed, mahlab (محلب: ground cherry pits), mastic gum (مستكه, “mistīka”), and cinnamon.

“مَعْمُول” means  “made,” “done,” “worked by hand,” or “excellently made” (it is the passive participle of the verb “عَمِلَ” “‘amila,” "to do, make, perform"). Presumably this is because each cookie is individually filled, sealed, and shaped by hand. Though patterned molds known as طوابع (“ṭawābi’,” “stamps”; singular طابع, “ṭābi’”) are sometimes used, the decorations on the surface of the cookies may also be applied by hand with the aid of a pair of small, specialized tongs (ملقط, “milqaṭ”).

Because of their laborious nature, ma’moul are usually made for feast days: they are served and shared for Eid, Easter, and Purim, a welcome reward after the Ramadan or Lenten fasts. For this reason, ma’moul are sometimes called “كَعْك العيد” (“ka’k al-’īd,” “holiday cakes”). Plates of the cookies, whether homemade or store-bought, are passed out and traded between neighbors in a practice that is part community-maintenance, part continuity of tradition, and part friendly competition. This indispensable symbol of celebration will be prepared by the women of a family even if a holiday falls around the time of a death, disaster, or war: Palestinian food writer Laila El-Haddad explains that "For years, we endured our situation by immersing ourselves in cooking, in our routines and the things we could control."

Other names for these cakes exist as well. Date ma’moul–the most common variety in Palestine–may be called كَعْك بعَجْوَة (“ka'k b'ajwa”), “cakes with date paste.” And one particular Palestinian variety of ma’moul, studded with sesame and nigella seeds and formed into a ring, are known as كَعْك أَسَاوِر‎ (“ka'k 'asāwir”), “bracelet cakes.” The thinner dough leads to a cookie that is crisp and brown on the outside, but gives way to a soft, chewy, sweet filling.

[ID: An extreme close-up on one ka'k al-aswar, broken open to show the date filling; ma'moul and a silver teapot are very out-of-focus in the background. End ID]

History

Various sources claim that ma’moul originated in Egypt, with their ancestor, كحك (kaḥk), appearing in illustrations on Pharaonic-era tombs and temples. The more specific of these claims usually refer to “temples in ancient Thebes and Memphis,” or more particularly to the vizier Rekhmire’s tomb in Thebes, as evidencing the creation of a pastry that is related to modern kahk. One writer attests that this tomb depicts “the servants mix[ing] pure honey with butter on the fire,” then “adding the flour by mixing until obtaining a dough easy to transform into forms” before the shaped cookies were “stuffed with raisins or dried dates and honey.” Another does not mention Rekhmire, but asserts that “18th-dynasty tombs” show “how honey is mixed with butter on fire, after which flour is added, turning the substance into an easily-molded dough. These pieces are then put on slate sheets and put in the oven; others are fried in oil and butter.”

Most of these details seem to be unfounded. Hilary Wilson, summarizing the state of current research on Rekhmire’s tomb, writes that the depicted pastries were delivered as an offering to the Treasury of the Temple of Amun; that they certainly contained ground tiger nuts; that they presumably contained wheat or durum flour, since ground tiger nuts alone would not produce the moldable dough illustrated; that the liquid added to this mixture to form the dough cannot be determined, since the inscription is damaged; that the cakes produced “are clearly triangular and, when cooked are flat enough to be stacked” (any appearance that they are pyramidal or conical being a quirk of ancient Egyptian drawing); that they were shallow-fried, not cooked in an oven; and that honey and dates are depicted at the far left of the scene, but their relationship to the pastries is unclear. There is no evidence of the honey being included in the dough, or the cookies being stuffed with dates; instead, Wilson speculates that “It appears that the cooks are preparing a syrup or puree of dates and honey. It is tempting to think that the cakes or pastries were served [...] with a generous portion of syrup poured over them.” Whether there is any direct lineage between these flat, fried pastries and the stuffed, molded, and baked kahk must also be a matter of speculation. [1]

Another origin claim points to ancient Mesopotamia. James David Audlin speculates that ma’moul are "possibly" the cousins of hamantaschen, both being descended from the molded "kamānu cakes that bore the image of [YHWH’s] goddess wife Inanna [also known as Ishtar or Astarte]" that were made in modern-day Syria. Other claims for Mesopotamia cite qullupu as the inspiration: these cakes are described in the contemporary record as wheat pastries filled with dates or raisins and baked. (Food historian Nawal Nasrallah writes that these cookies, which were offered to Ishtar for the new year festival in spring, may also be an origin point for modern Iraqi كليچة, "kleicha.")

The word "määmoul" had entered the English language as a type of Syrian farina cake by 1896.

In Palestine

From its earliest instantiations, Zionist settlement in Palestine was focused on building farming infrastructure from which Palestinians could be excluded: settlers, incentivized by foreign capital, aimed at creating a separate economy based around farms, agricultural schools, communal settlements, and research institutions that did not employ Arabs (though Arab labor and goods were never entirely cut out in practice).

Zionist agricultural institutes in Palestine had targeted the date as a desirable crop to be self-sufficient in, and a potentially profitable fruit for export, by the 1930s. Ben-Zion Israeli (בנציון ישראלי), Zionist settler and founder of the Kinneret training farm, spoke at a 1939 meeting of the Organization of Fruit Growers (ארגון מגדלי פירות) in the Nahalel (נהלל) agricultural settlement to discuss the future of date palms in the “land of Israel.” He discussed the different climate requirements of Egyptian, Iraqi, and Tunisian cultivars—and which among them seemed “destined” (נועדים) for the Jordan Valley and coastal plains—and laid out his plan to collect saplings from surrounding countries for planting despite their prohibitions against such exports.

In the typical mode of Zionist agriculture discourse, this speech dealt in concepts of cultivation as a means of coming into a predestined ownership over the land; eating food suited for the climate as a means of belonging in the land; and a return to Biblical history as a triumphant reclamation of the land from its supposed neglect and/or over-cultivation by Palestinian Arabs over the past 2,000 years. Israeli opened:

נסתכל לעברה של הארץ, אשר אנו רוצים להחיותה ולחדשה. היא השתבחה ב"שבעה מינים" ואלה עשוה אינטנסיבית וצפופת אוכלוסין. לא רק חיטה ושעורה, כי אם גם עצים הנותנים יבול גדול בעל ערך מזוני רב. בין העצים -- הזית [...] הגפן, התאנה והתמר. לשלושה מהם, לזית, לתאנה ולתמר חטאה התישבותנו שאין היא נאחזת בהם אחיזה ציםכר של ממש ואינה מפתחת אותם דים.

We will look to the past of the land [of Israel], which we want to revive and renew. It excelled in "seven species," and these flourished and became densely populated. Not only wheat and barley, but also trees that give a large and nutritious crop. Among the trees: the olive, [...] the vine, the fig and the date. For three of them, the olive, the fig and the date, it is the sin of our settlement that it does not hold on to them with a strong grip and does not develop them.

He continued to discuss the benefits of adopting the date—not then part of the diet of Jewish settlers—to “health and economy” (בריאות וכלכלה). Not only should the “land of Israel” become self-sufficient (no longer importing dates from Egypt and Iraq), but dates should be grown for export to Europe.

A beginning had already been made in the importation of about 8,000 date palm saplings over the past two decades, of which ¾ (according to Israeli) had been brought by Kibbutz Kinneret, and the remaining ¼ by the settlement department of the Zionist Commission for Palestine (ועד הצירים), by the Mandate government's agriculture department, and by people from Degania Bet kibbutz ('דגניה ב). The majority of these imports did not survive. More recently, 1000 smuggled saplings had been planted in Rachel’s Park (גן רחל), in a nearby government plot, and in various places in the Jordan Valley. Farms and agricultural institutions would need to collaborate in finding farmers to plant dates more widely in the Beit-Sha’an Valley (בקעת בית שאן), and work to make dates take their proper place in the settlements’ economies.

These initial cuttings and their descendents survive in large plantations across “Israel” and the occupied Palestinian territories. Taher Herzallah and Tarek Khaill write that “Palm groves were planted from the Red Sea in the south along the Dead Sea, and as far as the Sea of Galilee up north, which has given the Israeli date industry its nickname ‘the industry of the three seas’” Since Israel occupied the Palestinian West Bank in 1967, it has also established date plantations in its illegal settlements in that portion of the Jordan Valley.” Today, these settlements produce between 40 and 60% of all Israeli dates.

In 2022, Israel exported 67,042 tons of dates worth $330.1 million USD; these numbers have been on a steady rise from 4,909 tons worth $1.2m. in 1993. Palestinian farmers and their children, disappropriated from their land and desperate for income, are brought in to date plantations to work for long hours in hazardous conditions for low pay. Workers are lifted into the date palms by cranes where they work, with no means of descending, until the crane comes to lower them down again at the end of the day. Injuries from falls, pesticides, heat stroke, and date-sorting machinery are common.

Meanwhile, settlers work to curtail and control Palestinian production of dates. The Palestinian population in the West Bank and Gaza is used as a pool of cheap labor and a captive market to purchase Israeli imports, absorb excesses in Israeli goods, stabilize Israeli wages, and make up for market deficits. Thus Palestinian date farmers may be targeted with repressive measures such as water contamination and diversion, destruction of wells, crop destruction, land theft, military orders forbidding the planting of trees, settler attacks, closing of checkpoints and forbidding of exports, and the denial of necessary equipment or the means to make it, in part to ensure that their goods do not compete with those of Israeli farmers in domestic or foreign markets. Leah Temper writes that these repressive measures are part of a pattern whereby Israel tries to “stop [Palestinian] growth in high value crops such as strawberries, avocados and dates, which are considered to be ‘Israeli Specialties’.”

At other times, Palestinian farmers may be ordered to grow certain crops (such as strawberries and dates), and forbidden to grow anything else, when Israeli officials fear falling short of market demand for a certain good. These crops will be exported by Israeli firms, ensuring that the majority of profits do not accrue to Palestinians, and that Palestinians will not have the ability to negotiate or fulfill export contracts themselves. Nevertheless, Palestinian farmers continue to defy these oppressive conditions and produce dates for local consumption and for export. Zuhair al-Manasreh founded date company Nakheel Palestine in 2011, which continues production despite being surrounded by Israeli settlements.

Boycotts of Israeli dates have arisen in response to the conditions imposed on Palestinian farmers and workers. Herzallah and Khaill cite USDA data on the effectiveness of boycott, pressure, and flyering campaigns initiated by groups including American Muslims for Palestine:

Israel’s exports of dates to the US have dropped significantly since 2015. Whereas 10.7 million kilogrammes (23.6 million pounds) of Israeli dates entered the US market in 2015-2016, only 3.1 million kilogrammes (seven million pounds) entered the US market in 2017-2018. The boycott is working and it is having a detrimental effect on the Israeli date industry.

Date products may not be BDS-compliant even if they are not labeled as a product of Israel. Stores may repackage dates under their own label, and exporters may avoid declaring their dates to be a product of Israel, or even falsely label them as a product of Palestine, to avoid boycotts. Purchase California dates, or dates from a known Palestinian exporter such as Zaytoun or Yaffa (not “Jaffa”) dates.

[ID: Close-up of the top of ma'moul, decorated with geometric patterns and covered in powdered sugar, in strong light and shadow. End ID]

Elsewhere

Other efforts to foreground the provenance and political-economic context of dates in a culinary setting have been made by Iraqi Jew Michael Rakowitz, whose store sold ma’moul and date syrup and informed patrons about individual people behind the hazardous transport of date imports from Iraq. Rakowitz says that his project “utilizes food as a point of entry and creates a different platform by which people can enter into conversation.”

[1] Plates from the tomb can be seen in N. de G. Davies, The tomb of Rekh-mi-Rē at Thebes, Vol. II, plates XLVII ff.

Purchase Palestinian dates

Donate to evacuate families from Gaza

Flyer campaign for eSims

Ingredients:

Makes 16 large ma'moul and 32 ka'k al-aswar; or 32 ma'moul; or 64 ka'k al-aswar.

For the dough:

360g (2 1/4 cup) fine semolina flour (سميد ناعم / طحين فرخة)

140g (1 cup + 2 Tbsp) white flour (طحين ابيض)

200g (14 Tbsp) margarine or vegetarian ghee (سمن), or olive oil

2 Tbsp (15g) powdered sugar

1 1/2 Tbsp (10g) dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

1/2 tsp (2g) instant yeast

About 2/3 cup (190mL) water, divided (use milk if you prefer)

1 tsp toasted sesame seeds (سمسم)

1 tsp toasted nigella seeds (قزحه / حبة البركة)

Using olive oil and water for the fat and liquid in the dough is more of a rural approach to this recipe; ghee and milk (or milk powder) make for a richer cookie.

To make the bracelets easy to shape, I call for the inclusion of 1 part white flour for every 2 parts semolina (by volume). If you are only making molded cookies and like the texture of semolina flour, you can use all semolina flour; or vary the ratio as you like. Semolina flour will require more added liquid than white flour does.

For the filling:

500g pitted Madjoul dates (تمر المجهول), preferably Palestinian; or date paste

2 Tbsp oil or softened margarine

3/4 tsp dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

3/4 tsp ground cinnamon

5 green cardamom pods, toasted, skins removed and ground; or 1/4 tsp ground cardamom

Small chunk nutmeg, toasted and ground, or 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

10 whole cloves, toasted and ground, or 1/4 tsp ground cloves

The filling may be spiced any way you wish. Some recipes call for solely dugga ka'k (or fennel and aniseed, its main components); some for a mixture of cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, and/or cloves; and some for both. This recipe gives an even balance between the pungency of fennel and aniseed and the sweet spiciness of cinnamon and cloves.

Palestinian date brands include Ziyad, Zaytoun, Hasan, and Jawadir. Palestinian dates can also be purchased from Equal Exchange. You can find them online or at a local halal market. Note that an origin listed as "West Bank" does not indicate that a date company is not Israeli, as it may be based in a settlement. Avoid King Solomon, Jordan River, Mehadrin, MTex, Edom, Carmel Agrexco, Arava, and anything marked “exported by Hadiklaim”. Also avoid supermarket brands, as the origin of the dates may not be clearly marked or may be falsified to avoid boycots.

Instructions:

For the dough:

1. Melt margarine in a microwave or saucepan. Measure flours into a large mixing bowl and pour in margarine; mix thoroughly to combine. Rub flours between your hands for a few minutes to coat the grains in margarine. The texture should resemble that of coarse sad. Refrigerate the mixture overnight, or for up to 3 days.

2. Add dry ingredients to dough. If making both molded ma'moul and ka'k al-aswar, split the dough in half and add sesame and nigella seeds to one bowl.

3. Add water to each dough until you get a smooth dough that does not crack apart when formed into a ball and pressed. Press until combined and smooth, but do not over-knead—we don't want a bready texture. Set aside to rest while you make the filling.

For the filling:

1. Pit dates and check the interiors for mold. Grind all ingredients to a paste in a food processor. You may need to add a teaspoon of water, depending on the consistency of your dates.

To shape the cookies:

Divide the filling in half. One half will be used for the ma'moul, and the other half for the bracelets.

For the ma'moul:

1. With wet hands, pinch off date filling into small chunks about the size of a walnut (13-16g each, depending on the size of your mold)—or roll filling into a long log and divide into 16-20 even pieces with a dough scraper. Roll each piece of filling into a ball between your palms.

2. Divide the dough (the half without seeds) into the same number of balls as you have balls of filling, either using a kitchen scale or rolling into a log and cutting.

3. Form the dough into a cup shape. Place a ball of filling in the center, and fold the edges over to seal. Press the dough into a floured ma'moul mold to shape, then firmly tap the tip of the mold on your work surface to release; or, use a pair of spiked tweezers or a fork to add decorative designs by hand.

4. Repeat until all the the dough and filling has been used, covering the dough you're not working with to keep it from drying out. Place each cookie on a prepared baking sheet.

For the ka'k al-aswar:

1. With wet hands, divide the date filling into about 32 pieces (of about 8g each); they should each roll into a small log about the size of your pinkie finger.

2. Divide the dough (the half with the seeds) into as many pieces as you have date logs.

3. Take a ball of dough and flatten it into a thin rectangle a tiny bit longer than your date log, and about 3 times as wide. Place the date log in the center, then pull the top and bottom edges over the log and press to seal. Seal the ends.

4. Roll the dough log out again to produce a thin, long rope a little bit thinner at the very ends than at the center. Press one side of the rope over the other to form a circle and press to seal.

5. Repeat until all the the dough and filling has been used, covering the dough you're not working with to keep it from drying out. Place each cookie on a prepared baking sheet.

To bake:

1. Bake ma'moul at 350 °F (175 °C) in the center of the oven for about 20 minutes, until very lightly golden brown. They will continue to firm up as they cool.

2. Increase oven heat to 400 °F (205 °C) and bake ka'k al-aswar in the top third of the oven for about 20 minutes, until golden brown.

Sprinkle cookies with powdered sugar, if desired. Store in an airtight container and serve with tea or coffee, or give to friends and neighbors.

[evagreen-stories]

Mother’s madness | (Aemond x f!lowborn!reader) (1/?)

Summary: Aemond, troubled by his unfruitful marriage and the stress of the war, takes himself a bedslave when he seizes Harrenhal and gets more attached to her than he ever thought possible. Bringing her to the Red Keep after he needs to leave Harrenhal would not go as he hoped it would, especially after the birth of the babes he sired onto her.

Warnings: mentions of violence, light angst (kinda?), canon typical misogyny, canon typical behaviour, dark!aemond, abusive!aemond, forced relationship, forced impregnantion, canon typical classicism, mentions of assault, stockholm syndrom (kind of), non-canon storyline

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

masterlist part 2 >

You sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers as you stared into the lit fire. The room was silent apart from the crackling of the fire and you felt his stare burn into you. It felt as though a heavy burden lay atop your head, suffocating you with every moment made to spend in his presence.

You had no idea how, for you were nothing but a lowborn bastard fathered by some bright haired high-born, working as a servant in the castle of Harrenhal. Young, mere 16 years of age, plain features, you had never thought yourself to be anything special, though it seems there was at least one person that would disagree with that. 

Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen.

Somehow, in all the panic and madness that was his seize of the city, you had caught his eye.

It had all happened so fast. Dragged into his chambers by his guards you had little time to process what was happening. He was already on top of you when you finally understood what now was your fate. Claimed as his spoil of war and made his bedslave, he had taken your maidenhead with force that night, in the same ruthless manner he would many nights after that. 

Locked in his chambers there was little room for escape and after only three turns of the moon, a master had proclaimed you to be with child, shortly after that he had confirmed you to be carrying twins.

You had asked him for moontea more than once, yet were always denied. You were his to do with as he pleased and he was set on you having a child of his.

You often wondered why. You were busy tending to him all day and night, from fulfilling his every desire to bathing him and oiling his hair. Yet, in his many times of absence whenever he was out fighting on the battlefield, you had nothing else to do but think.

Eventually, you had settled on your own theory; He was married to Floris Baratheon, they had been wed two years before the war first started. Now, their fourth year of marriage approached, and after much struggle she brought forth only two daughters. You had heard all the stories about her and Aemond, of countless miscarriages, about the daughter that died not even a week after her birth, leaving him with only one daughter said to be equally as small and weak as her sisters, though still alive by some miracle of the gods. 

The rumours about their misfortune had travelled fast and far, many of those that opposed him and his brother's reign had claimed he been accursed, even before he slayed his own kin. She was said to be with child now as well, though it was to be seen whether this one would survive his curse or not.

As for your own detriment, you were sure you were a mere experiment of his, an attempt to figure out if he was the cause of the unfruitfulness of his marriage or his wife was. A desperate wish of his to try and prove the rumours wrong.

You didn't know if it was luck or a curse of your own that his seed had taken immediately. 

Your womb had filled with not one but two of his children and you had encountered no issues in carrying them so far. Because of this it was little surprise he had taken you back to the Red Keep with him when he was summoned back to King's Landing.

There, neither his wife nor his mother were impressed with his choices. your mere presence was despised by everyone but him. Quickly you had learned to appreciate being confined to his chambers and to his company alone, as well as the company of the two babes growing in you.

He was a violent man, quick to anger and impatient, yet as your belly had started to swell with his children he seemed more at ease, being calm and almost affectionate so long you did not disobey or disappoint him. 

Quickly adapting, you had learned to submit to all his whims and wills, even if it hurt at times, for you knew there was greater hurt waiting if you didn't. 

There was nothing that upset him more than any form of rejection or disrespect from you.

The weeks went by quickly, you had been with child for almost seven moons now, the presence of two made your stomach larger and rounder than you'd ever expected to be, even though two moons were still to come.

As you’re lost deep in thought his deep voice brings you back to reality.

“Stop sulking like that, you will ruin your pretty face.”

Ungrateful wench. Look at me when I’m talking to you. 

Hearing his voice you turn to face him quickly, seeing him sitting at his desk and eyeing you with a slight glare. Lowering your head for a moment in an apologetic gesture you reply, “I apologise, my price.”

He clicks his tongue in irritation. “You’re making that face again. Do you wish for another reminder of your place?” He huffs, taking a long sip from his cup as his eye never leaves your expression.

“Please don’t, my prince. I’m deeply sorry.” You answer quickly, trying to hide the small tremble in your voice.

He gets up from his chair and walks over to you, standing in front of you and bringing his hand to your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. “Then put on a pretty smile for me. You know the rules.” 

You pull your lips into a small smile that does little to hide the gloominess in your eyes. He doesn't care much for that though, so long you do as he commands. 

“Good. That’s my good girl, that’s what I want to see from you.” He praises and pats your head before walking back to his desk, gesturing you to follow he says, “Come here to me, sweet doll.”

You follow suit, grunting slightly as you pull all three of you up from the bed and waddle over to him, standing next to him on his chair and waiting for further instructions.

“Bend over.” He commands, tapping the desk right in front of you with a cruel smirk. “I want to see where I hit you the hardest last time.”

Swallowing nervously you do as told, hiking up your dress to reveal your bare skin underneath and bending over the table as far as your swollen belly allows you to. The large bruises on your right buttock glow brightly against your pale skin, the dim candlelight making the purple look more vibrant than usual.

“Mh. Good.” You can hear his voice and flinch slight when you feel his cold hand make contact with your flesh, roaming over your marked body in a firm yet gentle manner. “And can you remember why I did this?” His voice was as cold as his hand, no emotion present as he inspects the aftermath of your last punishment closer. 

“Because I didn’t serve you well enough, my prince.” 

“Correct.” A sudden slap lands right on the bruise, the pain flaring up again making you gasp. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson because if I have to do it again you really won’t like it.” 

Flinching and groaning at another slap you answer quickly. “I have, my prince.”

“Good.” He was pleased with your submission. His hand leaves your flesh as he tells you, “Fix your dress. I will send you out to the city to collect something for me.” 

He rummages through a drawer of his desk as you take a step back, letting go of your dress and letting it fall down to your feet again. He pulls out a piece of parchment that already has mysterious words written on it that you can't understand and scribbles an address at the foot of it. He hands you a pouch full of coin. “Go and be quick about it. Take the guards with you, and give me those back as soon as you return.” He said, his long digit tapping the bag of coins in your hand.

“It is late, my prince. Are any shops still open at this time of night?” You wonder out loud, genuinely confused. 

It was nothing new for him to send you out to run errands. It was a welcome change from your duties as bedslave and personal maid, as you were still responsible for all his comforts. From bathing him and brushing his hair, to carrying his children to satisfy all his desires. He kept you in his chambers for this very purpose, he preferred your soft tender hands over those of anyone else, even if it meant summoning the wrath of his wife and others. Running errands for him was also the only other time you got to leave the suffocating castle walls. 

In theory you were free to roam the gardens and courtyard, yet the disgusted looks and insults from the ladies there had you staying in his chambers at all times.

“Don’t question me. I want it now. Do as I say and leave at once.” His voice is laced with irritation. 

Is she insolent or plain stupid?

You mumble an apology and bow, grabbing a cloak and hurrying out the room before you manage to mess up again. 

As much as you already loved your children still growing in your belly, in the most recent days you've felt as though they depleted your mind and made you more prone to upsetting your master. 

I can’t upset him. I need to do good.

You gathered two guards to keep you safe as you made your way down into the city, down the streets and alleyways, the address he gave you was far from the castle, close to Flea Bottom. 

Many people stared at you as you made your way through the streets. The night folk were out, it was rare to see a pregnant woman amongst them, even less common for one to be accompanied by royal guards.

You arrived in a small alleyway at last, an unseemingly shop with a sign above the door, you couldn't make out the words in the darkness, only make out a few herbs painted onto the wooden slap that made the sign. 

As you enter a bell announces your entry. “Good evening.” You say into the small and empty shop littered with different containers and brown bottles, a few tools hanging on the walls, the smell of all kinds of herbs mixing in the air and making your head spin soon enough. 

“Good evening,” the hoarse voice of an elderly woman replies as she enters the room through a curtain blocking off the other parts of the building. “Can i help you?”

“Yes. I am here to pick something up for Prince Aemond.” 

She looks you up and down, taking a deep breath as an expression of suspicion drapes over her previously welcoming one. “Really now? And what exactly has our prince sent you to collect?”

“He did not say.” You answer, reaching into the pocket of your cloak to retrieve both the parchment and coin. “But he gave me this note and the coin to pay for it.” 

You had notices strange words written over the address, words you could not understand, yet as this woman takes the note from you it appears she knows their meaning as she surries off behind the curtain she came from and brings back a small vial of strange liquid as well as a packet wrapped in paper, tied close with a string. 

“Here, my dear.” she hands them over to you. “Make sure you take caution on your way back to the palace. You dont want anything… unfortunate to happen to you in the city this late at night.”

“I will, thank you. How much do you get?” You reply as you open the pouch, ready to pay.

“No need for coin, my lady. Its on the house - for our pince’s sake.'' She smiles kindly, bowing slightly as she does.

You mirror her smile, bowing instinctively in return as you had learned to do in the Red Keep - bowing a hundred times too often was better than bowing once too little, you had understood that quickly.

“That is very kind of you, ma’m. I shall inform the prince about your generosity.” Packing away everything into various pockets in your cloak you bid goodbye, only to be stopped by the sound of her voice as you're about to reach the door. 

“I can’t help but notice you are with child. If you are to give birth in the Red Keep, I advise you to be careful.”

Her words make you stop dead in your tracks, turning around slowly to look at her with a frown on your face. “I… I’m sorry?”

“The Red Keep is a dangerous place for women, especially mothers and their small children. You’re having twins, you need be extra cautious.” She said as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if she didn't just say one of the most shocking things you’ve ever heard. 

How does she know this?

“I-” You freeze in shock as you replay her words in you mind, “H-How do you know i’m expecting twins? And… what do I need to be cautious about?”

She smiles back, a smile filled not with innocence but with wisdom and knowledge, one that must’ve witnessed the wicked ways of this world on maany occasions. “I have seen many  women passing through my shop, my dear.” She gestures around to all the varying herbs and potions before continuing “I know when a woman is pregnant and can see when she is carrying twins. As for you needing to be cautious… there are many strange things happening in the Red Keep. Beware, no one there is your friend. The walls have eyes and ears. Do not trust anyone, not the maesters, either.”

“The maesters? Why not them? Are they not there to help me?” Fear creeps up within you, your hand rising to rest on your belly in a protective manner.

“The maesters are servants of the crown and no one in the crown's service can be trusted. They have their own agenda as well.” She says with confidence, stating it as fact rather than an opinion. She steps out from behind the counter, approaching you slowly. “There is much you don't know, my dear, I only wish to warn you. I’m worried for the lives of your children.”

“Can you-” You begin but are interrupted by the door swinging open. The guards have waited long enough and demand your return to the palace. 

You sigh in defeat, knowing that defying the guards is something Aemond will be informed of. Turning to face the elderly lady you bid goodbye. “I apologise. Have a good night, ma’m.” 

She simply smiles warmly. “May the gods protect you.” and watches as you leave.

You make your way back to the palace, her words running through your head like a mantra as you try to figure out the meaning of them.

You need to stop often, taking breaks to you catch your breath.

Stupid hills. Stupid steps.

It must be well in the night now, perhaps even early in the first morning hours, when you finally arrive back in the palace. You open the door to your shared chambers carefully, making sure not to wake the prince. Slipping inside carefully you make no noise in the barely lit room, only letting out a small squeal when you turn around and see him sit at his desk still, a book spread out in front of him as a single candle by his right side illuminates the pages.

“You’re still awake, my prince.” Your voice is but a mere whisper as you start fidgeting with your fingers.

He is dressed in his nightwear and doesn't even bother to look up from his book as he answers, “You took your time.” His voice is laced with annoyance and anger. It's now he looks up at you, studying your frame up and down before demanding, “Stand in front of me.”

You walk over to him, feeling the need to explain yourself as you do so. “I apologise, my prince. The walk back uphill and all the stairs have gotten more difficult with the two babes growing inside of me. I was in need of a few breaks.”

He nods, waiting for you to stand right in front of you. He takes a deep breath as if to calm himself and places a hand on your belly, his palm right over the spot one of the babes always liked to kick into. “You are indeed getting rather large. What have you brought me?”

You look at his hand on your belly. It's a gesture that would be sweet between husband and wife, yet you were not that. Not anywhere close. His growing fascination with your bump always made your blood run cold for some reason. You empty your pockets, placing all of the contents on the desk in front of him. 

“The coin back… and these two things.”

He didn't take his hand off your bump as he watched your movements and inspected the items with his eye. 

His free hand then travels to your hip, pulling you closer to stand between his legs as he keeps his other hand roaming your belly, looking up at you and studying your tired expression. 

After a while he instructs you, his voice now much calmer and seeming almost content as he speaks, “Go sit on the bed. Don’t speak another word unless I say otherwise.”

You nod silently and walk over to the bed, sitting down and relishing the feeling of relief that overwhelms you when the weight of three is finally lifted off your aching feet. 

Watching him as he inspects the package and vile you see him smell all of it, grimacing at the smell of what must be a potion of sorts. You wondered what it smelled like but you knew better than to ask questions. He counts the coins, yet does not comment on them all still there. You want to tell him about the nice lady, but you know better than to disobey his command to stay silent.

He packed it all away, into the same drawer he had taken out the coins in the first place, then looks back up at you. He leans back into his chair, one hand resting on his leg as the other reaches for the cup next to him. “Take off your dress.” He orders and keeps taking the last few sips from the wine.

You do as told quickly, getting up from the bed to undo the straps that hold the dress in place and let it fall open, taking it off and placing it over a chair close to the bed before taking a seat again.

This was far from unusual, you knew his antics by now.

He preferred to play with his prey before devouring it.

Watching you intently he smiles as soon as the first patches of bare skin are revealed. He would never grow tired of ordering you around, too exhilarating was the power he held over you.

As a man, as a prince nonetheless. 

No one could stop him. 

Not his mother, not his wife, not the gods - and especially, not you.

He gets up and walks over to you, his eye roaming over every curve of your gravid body. Your belly grew larger with his children every day, your breasts too were round and swollen. 

They must hurt, he thought to himself from time to time, but until the milk would finally start to flow there was nothing he could do to provide relief. He had tried more than once already, ever the impatient man he was, though it seemed not to be the time for it yet.

His hand placed on your arm he firmly nudges you back and to your side. Lying there like this, on your side with your legs pulled onto the mattress, gave him easy access to indulge in you while also giving him a good view of the body he so worshipped. It was one of the very few positions in which he could take his sweet time without you struggling to breathe under the weight of his children pushing into you. 

He starts taking off his clothes when he strikes up conversation. It was odd, the calmer he took you, the more need for talk he seemed to have. Though the frequency in which he did this nowadays did make it normal to some degree.

“Tell me your fears. What worries you most about the coming birth?”

“Huh?”

Taken aback by his question, you struggle to find an answer. After many moments of tense silence, purely filled with the sounds of his clothes tossed away, you eventually reply. 

“I… I suppose dying…” 

It sounded more like a guess than an answer, Truthfully, you had never though of this yourself. 

Too hopeful that this birth could finally set you free from him, you had never nurtured any negative thoughts or critical questions about pregnancy or birth.

“Dying?” He seemed surprised. His hands worked on you with practised routine, pulling your body closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your legs forward to make space for him. 

He presses his bare manhood against the flesh of your core as he leans forward, hands roaming all over your stomach and breasts, firmly grabbing and playing with the nubs on them as if to check again for any precious liquid. 

“I take it you don’t worry about the lives of my children then. Only for yourself?”

“Of course I do!” You reply, voice a bit firmer now than before, feeling an immediate swell of anger and fear bubble deep inside you. Weird, that never happens. “I just… I think if I'm cold in my grave I can no longer worry about them at all. So, first should be the worry about my own life. Then, if I am to live through the birth, I can worry about them.”

“Interesting…” He says as he now turns his attention to his cock, taking it in his hand and running it through your folds several times. He was never a man that took much time to prepare you, he felt little need to do so. 

Your body responded within seconds of knowing what was about to happen, providing the necessary slick for him either way. On times he took you by surprise and pushed in without notice, it too had taken mere moments for your cunt to embrace and welcome him.

All mine. Responding just how she should.

“Then just trust me.” He says, grunting and huffing softly as he buries himself in the comfort of your walls, gripping onto him in familiar tightness. “You’ll see there will be little to worry about, sweet thing. Just relax. I’d hate to have you dead, too. You’d be of little use in a cold grave for both my children and me.”

Rutting into you at an increasing pace he is soon moaning and groaning with each thrust until he has rid himself of all his spend, grinding it into the deepest parts of you with deep growls and laboured breaths as his own body collapses forward onto yours, his forehead resting on your temple as his hot breath on your skin sends gooseflesh down your body. 

He could not describe it, there was no reasonable explanation for it, but it was you who he had always taken the most pleasure from. No whore or his wife could compare. You had brought him a sense of comfort  he would find nowhere else.

While pleasure wasn’t guaranteed for you in all his takings, it was times like these you did feel it. Times like these where you felt less like a slave and more like a lover. When his bare, sweaty skin would cling to yours, the sensation of his hot breath on your neck making your own hitch in your throat, the inaudible words in what you think to be valyrian growled in his deep voice would make your stomach tighten in a familiar fashion.

In moments like these, you didn’t mind your fate too much.

The days pass and soon turn into weeks.

You never found out what the potion or herbs were about. Soon after that day however, Aemond had given you your own chambers for the first time ever since you came into his service. They were small and humble in comparison to his but still a far cry from what any servant or peasant could wish for.

A large bed with enough blankets and pillows to make it through the coldest winter nights, a table with two chairs, a sofa, two cradles, a wardrobe and other furniture, all made of richly coloured wood with intricate patterns and carvings. 

The chambers were far from his. He did not want screaming babes keeping him up at night, thus the adjustment needed to be made, even if the thought of your impending absence from his bed soured his mood already.

You may have been the prince regent’s favourite and were to have his bastard children, yet you were still a lowly bed slave, thus expected to give birth with only the standard precautions taken and to take care of both babes yourself. No wet nurse or handmaiden to help you. That much you were made aware of as soon as you had arrived in the Red Keep all those moons ago.

What is a frightening thought, to be so young and left to care for two babes alone, did give you a feel of hope regardless. 

Hope for some peace and quiet away from Aemond, hope for being able to sleep and wake up without his hands all over you, and the hope of him finally growing bored of you and relieving him of your service to him. 

There was only a small chance of that happening, you knew, yet you held onto that hope until the day he left for battle again.

He had indulged himself in you daily until then, knowing he would soon have no more chance to do so - at least for a while, until you were fully healed. 

When he had to leave for a long military operation he bid you goodbye before making his way to Vhagar. You watched him leave before retiring to your own chambers, happily confining yourself to your new chambers with books and yarn.

Less than a fortnight after Aemonds departure, the day had arrived. Going into labour in the late hours of the afternoon you had been bed bound for a whole day before your babes would finally make their arrival.

Two sons, healthy and strong despite their small size - the maester had assured you this was a common occurrence for twins. They would fill out soon, he claimed, aiding in calming your fears. 

To your surprise, you were not left as abandoned as you had expected to be. The maester cared for your body as you learned how to nurse your sons, how to change and bathe them. 

You were provided nourishing, large meals, lotions, oils and herbs, your belly bound by ever changing maids. You could tell these were benefits granted to you at the order of the prince. He must have instructed them to do so before he left.

Whether he did this out of the kindness of his heart or purely because he wished you back in his service as quickly as possible in the best possible condition you were not sure, yet you would not complain either.

All you did was focus on your sons who you named Aurelius Waters, the elder one, and Patroclus Waters, the younger one. Briefly had you considered naming them in the traditions of house Targaryen to appease Aemond, but he was not here. 

He could not interfere. They were bastards after all, so you took the liberty of naming them to your heart's content - the first time you've felt in control ever since being forced into his service.

Meanwhile, Aemond was busy on the battlefields, travelling back and forth between the crownlands and riverlands, aiding in one battle after the other as he brought victory after victory to his brother’s cause.

He found his days eerily quiet without the presence of his beloved bed slave by his side. His days seemed dark and gloomy, empty and devoid of life. He looked forward to when he would be reunited with you but to his dismay, his presence was needed for far longer than he had anticipated.

As the days went on, you had soon taken notice of both the maids and maesters who were seemingly fascinated by the fact that both babes were actually growing very fast and became more active than ever. Both were feeding at your breast all day long, soon turning plumb and full of life.

Why were they so suprised? Had they lied to you when they said all would be well?

You could not help but grow increasingly worried and suspicious at the maesters seemingly heightened interest in your sons, the words and warning of the mysterious old lady plaguing your mind even in your sleep. You started locking your chamber at night mere days after giving birth, finding yourself unable to sleep whenever you knew anyone could walk in and do something to your children while you slept.

You tried to stay calm, tried all you could to ease your mind. You tried to take a walk once. To go into the gardens you usually avoided for you knew there were often ladies whispering hurtful insults behind their hands. 

Walking there with both sons tied to your chest with a long, silken piece of fabric, you stopped dead in your tracks when you overheard the hushed whispers of who you assumed to be servans. You stayed and listened, like a deer hearing a branch snap. 

Really? One said. They wouldn’t do that. The other said. I’m certain! I’ve heard it with my own ears! Another proclaimed.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart skipped several beats as you continued to listen in on their conversation. You clutched your sons tighter and turned around on your heels, hurrying back into you chamber and shutting the door behind you with a loud thud, immediately turning the lock closed.

From that day on, the door would stay locked at all times.

You unlocked the door only on few occasions. Whenever a servant brought you food or came to clean, or whenever you put dirty nappies out for someone to take and get rid of. 

Maesters were no longer allowed in your room at all and no one was allowed to touch your sons. You did it all yourself. You could not bear the sight of anyone else touching them, too bad had your paranoia and fears gotten.

You kept the cradles right next to your bed and the babes tied to your chest more often than not. You slept only when they slept and fed, bathed and cleaned them yourself.

By the time Aemond finally returned two months after you welcomed your sons, you were a sleep deprived mess. Paranoid as ever with the door firmly locked at all times.

Something Aemond would be informed of by the maesters soon after his return.

masterlist part 2 >

[chinesehanfu]

[Hanfu · 漢服]Chinese immortal Hanfu <灵芝玉女/Goddess holding Ling Zhi> Based On Yuan Dynasty Taoist Temple Mural<永乐宫/Yongle Palace>

【Historical Artifact Reference】:

▶ China Yongle Temple(永乐宫) Murals showing<灵芝玉女 / Goddess holding Lingzhi>

🍄The significance of Lingzhi in China🍄

In Chinese art, the lingzhi symbolizes great health and longevity, as depicted in the imperial Forbidden City and Summer Palace.It was a talisman for luck in the traditional culture of China, and the goddess of healing Guanyin is sometimes depicted holding a lingzhi mushroom

The Old Chinese name for lingzhi 靈芝 was first recorded during the Han dynasty (206 BC – 9 AD). In the Chinese language, língzhī (靈芝) is a compound. It comprises líng (靈); "spirit, spiritual; soul; miraculous; sacred; divine; mysterious; efficacious; effective)" as, for example, in the name of the Lingyan Temple in Jinan, and zhī (芝); "(traditional) plant of longevity; fungus; seed; branch; mushroom; excrescence"). Fabrizio Pregadio notes, "The term zhi, which has no equivalent in Western languages, refers to a variety of supermundane substances often described as plants, fungi, or 'excrescences'."Zhi occurs in other Chinese plant names, such as zhīmá (芝麻; "sesame" or "seed"), and was anciently used a phonetic loan character for zhǐ (芷; "Angelica iris"). Chinese differentiates Ganoderma species into chìzhī (赤芝; "red mushroom") G. lingzhi, and zǐzhī (紫芝; "purple mushroom") Ganoderma sinense.

In the chronicles of Shiji (1st century CE from Sima Qian), the initial use of nearby separately related words with Chinese: 芝 and Chinese: 靈 are attested to in the poems of Emperor Wu of Han. Later, in the 1st century CE through the poetry of Ban Gu, occurred the first combination of the characters 靈芝 together into a single word.

_______________

📸Photography post-production :@小何力

👗Hanfu & 👑Crown：@雁鸿Aimee

👭Model：@清音音音音

💄 Makeup：百丽 （临溪摄影）

🔗Weibo:https://weibo.com/1615560544/O267AzTqM

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[brucewaynehater101]

Space Emperor Tim

so, the planets that Tim rules all agree that their beloved baby of a ruler Emperor insert his pseudonym for being ruler of a galactic empire and they quite love their ruler who defends them from enemies with only his small team of bodyguards/advisors/whatever roles c4 fills on whichever planet, and works to ensure planetary infrastructure is stable and promotes interplanetary trade and that everyone is fed etc...

however, something that can and has and does cause regular flare ups of aggression among planets:

shipping wars

Usually it's just kept online and relatively civil

but on occasion, usually if Tim has been out of contact for too long and planet governments get antsy about Tim's potential successors, the idea of Tim having a partner and even producing a dynasty arises even though Tim has firmly pointed out how that's a terrible idea

The most popular choices among shippers are the other members of YJ that have helped the planets with their beloved emperor, Tim has had to deal with some planets putting up trade embargos against others within the empire because the other planet ship their emperor with the goddess wonder girl while they ship the emperor with high advisor super boy and a third planet is egging them both on and planting seeds for a revolution in the name of emperor/bodyguard impulse

Also Tim may have been medicated and a little loopy when he was asked for a true name to call himself by when he's the emperor and his empire knows him as Emperor Obi Wan Kenobi

Finding out the emperor's name is Hal's first clue that there's something weird about this particular empire

It would be hilarious if they formed a polycule which caused all of the planets to promptly freaked out cause technically their ship did come true.

If not, Tim starts developing plans to ensure the planets have a process to test and enact their next ruler (as well as setting up protections so they may remove that person whenever they feel the need to [such as them turning into a dictator, commiting crimes, etc]).

I'm curious what other silly names Tim could've given for his alias name or title. My personal favorite is Patron, but that would be his serious name. For him being too loopy to be making proper decisions, names such as "ketchup," "yo mama," "zesti overlord," "ratman," or others would be hilarious. Especially if he keeps accidentally doing it to different planets, causing confusion

[fkapommel]

Etymology of TLT Character Names

Wanted to provide a fandom resource for analysis and theorizing. Since House names are explained in GTN, this list will just focus on first names. DM me for sources. Enjoy <3

Gideon

Biblical prophet, military leader, and judge, meaning "feeler," "hewer," or "one who cuts down." According to narrative, the Israelites had forgotten their god for 40 years and were punished by assaults from enemy tribes. After Israel turned back to God for aid, Gideon, an unnoteworthy Israelite, was delivered the message by an angel that he should lead Israel against its enemies. Gideon requested three miracles be done by God to prove his and God's ability to do this task, which God then performed. Gideon then completes God's tasks, including destroying an idol of Baal in the Israelite camp and displacing a much larger enemy encampment. Gideon delivered 40 years of peace for Israel during his lifetime and refused kinghood and dynasty when offered by his people. However, upon his death, the Israelites returned to worshipping Baal. A "Gideonic victory" can mean winning a battle against the odds.

Harrowhark

Harrowing - to use a piece of farming equipment to level soil, break rocks, and kill weeds to ready the dirt for seed growth. Also refers to the Harrowing of Hell, a non-Biblical, early to middle English traditional episode in which Jesus, upon death by crucifixtion, enters the Underworld to preach salvation to souls interned there before his birth, thus allowing them to enter Heaven. This tradition has been canonized by Catholic theology.

Hark - the first word of many ancient texts or announcements, meaning "listen." Biblical angelic speeches often begin with "hark."

Judith

The feminine of Judah, a Biblical Hebrew name meaning "praised," "woman of Judea/Jewess." The name Judith appears twice in the deuterocanonical Bible: once as one of Esau's wives and seperately as the titular character in the Book of Judith (a book not part of the canonized Bible). In the Book of Judith, Judith is described as a widow who uses her wit, charm, and skills of seduction to be invited to the private tent of Holofernes, the general of the enemy Assyrian army who had laid siege to her city. Judith is able to get Holofernes drunk and overpowers him, decapitates him, and steals his head to show to her city. She is of the few illustrations of the "ideal Jewish woman."

Marta

Derived from Aramaic, meaning "the daughter," "the lady," and "dedicated to Mars"

Isaac

Meaning "he laughs," referring to the father of the Biblical character's laugh of disbelief when God told him, Abraham, that his nonogenarian wife would conceive his child. Isaac is one of the three patriarchs of Israel, grandfather to the 12 tribes. When Isaac was a child, God commanded Abraham to take him up a mountain and sacrifice his child in His name. When Abraham proved his obedience, God provided a ram to sacrifice instead of Isaac. Isaac went on to marry Rebekah; though they eventually believed her to be barren, after Isaac prayed to God, Rebekah concieved twin boys, Esau and Jacob, at an old age, just as his mother did. Rebekah grew to prefer Jacob. Later, due to Sarah and Jacob's scheming, Isaac gave Esau's birthright to his second-born son, Jacob. Jacob would live on to father the twelve tribes of Israel.

Jeannemary

This specific spelling seems to be an invention of Tazmuir, but the duel components of the name are significant. Firstly, "Jean-Marie" is a French masculine name. Jeanne is the feminine form of the English "John." "Jeanne"  can be traced to a Biblical Hebrew name, meaning "God is gracious." The most notable historical character of the same name is Jeanne d'Arc, a young female military leader who acted under divine guidance. Upon instruction of archangels and saints, Jeanne fought in pursuit of the coronation of Charless VII during the 100 Years War. Her leadership led to multiple military victories but was punctuated by multiple failures. The unsuccessful relief of a besieged city led to her capture and deliverance to the English, who tried her for blasphemy by wearing men's clothes and refusing submission to Church authority. Found guilty, Jeanne was burned at the stake at 19.

Mary is the most notable feminine name of the Christian Bible, referring predominately to Mary, mother of Jesus Christ, Mary Bethany, and Mary Magdalene, a female disciple of Jesus. Mary was born immaculately - without sin - so that she would be a pure vessel to carry Jesus, who she concieved as a virgin. Mary Bethany was a friend of Jesus and sister to Lazarus. She was deeply emotional about her brother's passing, which persuaded Jesus to resurrect her brother from the grave. Mary Magdalene was a probably wealthy Jewish woman who aided Jesus' teachings. As a loyal apostle, she was a witness at both His crucifixtion and resurrection.

Coronabeth

"Coronabeth," like "Jeannemary," is an obvious Tazmuir invention. "Corona" refers to both the part of the body that resembles a crown and to a colored circular frame around a stellar body, usually caused by its atmosphere.

"Beth" is derived from both "Elizabeth" ("God is my oath") and "Bethany" ("House of Figs"). The suffix -beth comes from Hebrew origins, meaning "house."

Ianthe

From the Ancient Greek, meaning "violet flower" or "she who delights." She was one of the 3,000 water-nymphs called Oceanides, daughters of the Titans. Ianthe and her sisters served as a companion to Persephone when she was in Hades. She is also a character in Ovid's Metamorphosis as the beautiful fiancé to Iphis, a character who has her/his gender changed by the goddess Isis.

Note on the Tridentarii: Coronabeth was almost called "Cainabeth" and Ianthe "Abella" after the two Biblical brother characters, Cain and Abel. In the narrative, God preferred Abel's divine sacrifices and loved him more than his brother. In a jealous rage, Cain killed Abel and hid from his crime, his family, and his God. When God asked him, "Where is your brother?" Cain returned, "I am not my brother's keeper." Angered, He cursed Cain with the Mark of Cain. Separately, the first fratricide cursed the Earth to never turn over its vegetation to Cain, the first murderer. His Mark symbolizes him as a wanderer, a person who belongs nowhere; however, it also protects him from the curses and abuse of others, returning scorned words and abuses back to the harasser seven-fold. Though Coronabeth and Ianthe received their names elsewhere, the lusty, jealous, murderous themes of Cain and Abel's narrative were present at the time of their creation and thus should not be dismissed.

Naberius

Though I can't find the meaning of the name, "Naberius" is rooted in Latin. It first appears in Johann Weyer's 1583 manuscript, "The Deceptions of Demons." Naberius, or "Cerberus" - relation to the same named three-headed dog of Ancient Greek theology unknown - is a Marquess of Hell, directing 19 legions of demons. He provides cunningness of the arts, sciences, and rhetoric in man through vocal instruction and can restore lost honors and dignities. His semblance is of a man with three dog heads or a raven.

Abigail

Biblical Hebrew name meaning "my father's joy," "my father is exalted." Abigail is a Biblical figure, being the third wife of King David and mother to one of his sons. She is a strong believer in the prophecy of David's ascension and his great dynasty. Abigail is considered to be one of the seven Jewish woman prophets and, in the Talmud, of the four women "surpassing beauty in this world." The word "Abigail" can refer nonspecifically to a waiting woman or handmaiden.

Palamedes

There are two notable historical fiction characters that share the name "Palamedes." Palamades was an ancient Grecian prince who joined the battle of Troy, according to the Aenid. After Paris had taken Helen to Troy, Palamedes was sent as envoy from Agamemnon to Odysseus because the latter man had previously vowed to defend Helen's marriage. Odysseus, however, did not want to attend the war, but Palamedes was successful in proving his fitness for war and ultimately delivering Odysseus to Troy. According to some traditions, Odysseus never forgave Palamedes for this and eventually killed him. In the Apology, Plato characterizes Socrates as looking forward to death in order to speak with Palamedes.

Secondly, Sir Palamedes is a knight of the round-table, a Saracen pagan (or probable Muslim) who converted to Christiantiy later in life. He is introduced dueling another knight, Sir Tristan, for a lady's hand, which he loses; these two fight several more times but with unclear victories, leading to a hate-love relationship deepened by their love for the same woman (the woman of their first duel). Many stories have Palamedes as the hunter of the Questing Beast, a fearsome animal the target of many a fruitless hunt. After years of pursuit, it is ultimately his freedom from wordly material granted by his Christian conversion that allows him to slaughter the beast. He remains loyal to Sir Lancelot after his affair with Queen Guinevere is revealed and follows Lancelot to France. Sir Palamedes is later killed by Sir Gawain. Except in matters concerning his love and Sir Tristan, where he often lost control of his anger, he was one of the most chivalrous and honorable knights.

Note: The story of Sir Palamedes, as a product of Arthurian legend, is nearly impossible to summarize properly due to its expansiveness and document fragmentation. If interested in the topic (such as the wink wink homo-erotic love-hate relationship he has with Sir Tristan,) i encourage futher research.

Camilla

"Camilla" is the feminine of "Camillus," a Latin term meaning acolyte, a helper of the Priest during religious processionals and ceremonies. In the Aeneid, Camilla is a queen gifted to the goddess Diana as a handmaiden who became a virginal Amazon warrior.

Dulcinea

"Dulcinea" is a name created by Don Quixote for his character, derivative of the Spanish word "dulce" meaning "sweetness." Princess Dulcinea was invented in the titular character's mind to be the most perfect, beautiful, and regal woman since he believes chivalry requires such a lady of him. To refer to a loved one as like Dulcinea is to express your idealistic devotion and love to her.

Protesilaus

"Protesilaus" may come from the Ancient Greek "protus" for "first." Protesilaus was a hero in the Iliad. According to an oracle, the first Greek to set foot on land after sailing to fight the Trojan War would die. Protesilaus was the first to dare step off ship; he sealed his fate then, later dying in combat. His widow was so devoted to his memory that she built a bronze statue with his likeness. She later self-emulated when the statue was burned and destroyed.

Silas

Latin in origin, "Silas" means "of the forest." Notable figures named "Silas" include first century St. Silas, who accompanied St. Paul on his second mission. He is credited as co-author of the two letters to Thessalonians and the Book of Hebrews; however, authoriship is disputed. St. Silas is sometimes depicted with broken chains due to an episode in which an earthquake freed him and St. Paul from imprisonment.

Colum

From the Gaelic word for "dove"

[coochiequeens]

Archeaology gives us the name of another woman in History

Archaeologists digging in one of the oldest cities in Egypt have discovered evidence that sheds new light on the life of the ancient Egyptian queen Merneith, who ruled during the 1st Dynasty.

The excavation of a tomb in the Umm al-Qaab area in Abydos found an inscription on a “stone vessel” that provides new historical information about Merneith’s reign, during which she held “a great position” and was responsible for the central government offices, said Christiana Köhler, who led the dig.

“It has been speculated that Merneith may have been the first female Pharaoh in Ancient Egypt,” Köhler said in a news release, “but her true identity remains a mystery,”

A fragment of a stone vessel recently found in the tomb of Queen Merneith. It has an incised inscription with her name on the right and the mention of the royal treasury on the left. Photo courtesy of EC Köhler, M Minotti.

Köhler specified that Merneith, also known as Meret-Neith, may have been in charge of the treasury among other government offices, supporting the idea of her historical significance. She is the only 1st-Dynasty woman whose tomb has been uncovered in Abydos so far.

“Considering that these are the remains of people’s lives and actions from 5,000 years ago, we are stunned every day at the amazing detail we encounter during our investigations, including the perfectly preserved grape seeds, craftwork and even footprints in the mud,” Köhler said over email.

The wine jars are seen during the excavation of Merneith’s tomb. Photo courtesy of Egypt’s Ministry of Tourism and Archaeology

Egypt’s Tourism Ministry highlighted hundreds of 5,000-year-old wine jars found in the tomb in the Umm al-Qaab area in Abydos, one of the oldest cities in Egypt located about 354 miles south of Cairo. Photo courtesy of Egypt’s Ministry of Tourism and Archaeology

Discoveries made in the dig also “challenge the long-held belief in human sacrifice,” Köhler added in the news release.

Next to Merneith’s burial site, archaeologists found a group of 41 tombs for her courtiers and servants, indicating these chambers were built during different periods of time.

“This observation, together with other evidence, radically challenges the oft-proposed, but unproven idea of ritual human sacrifice in the 1st Dynasty,” Köhler said.

The news release highlighted the discovery of hundreds of 5,000-year-old wine jars that had never been opened. The archaeological team—hailing from Egypt, Germany and Austria—found the remains of wine inside.

Mustafa Waziri, Secretary General of Egypt’s Supreme Council of Antiquities, said in a statement that the discovered jars are large in size and “in a good condition of preservation.”

“Some of them are very well preserved with their jar stoppers still intact,” Köhler said.

[daeneryseastar]

Rhaenyra's Usurpation and the Dying of the Dragons

There is nothing that Rhaenyra Targaryen could have done to prevent the Dance of Dragons from happening.

Let me repeat; There is nothing that Rhaenyra Targaryen could have done to prevent the Dance of Dragons from happening.

It was set in stone the minute that Jaehaerys heeded the words of his son Vaegon and held the Great Council of 101. It was set in stone when Viserys was named heir over Rhaenys and Laenor. It was set in stone when Viserys decided to name Rhaenyra as his heir, marry Alicent, and have more children, specifically sons. It was set in stone when Viserys allowed the children of his second wife to claim dragons. It was set in stone when Viserys kept Rhaenyra as his heir and failed to prepare her and the realm properly for her rule.  It was set in stone when Viserys allowed the seeds of discourse to run among the children due to his wife and her faction. It was set in stone when Aegon usurped the throne. It was set in stone when Aemond murdered Lucerys despite guest rights and terms of peace.

Rhaenyra could have been the picture-perfect heir, ‘Jaehaerys himself come again’, and still would have been usurped. Rhaenyra could have not had ‘bastards’ as her heirs, and she still would have been usurped. Rhaenyra could have remained at the Red Keep, rather than the heir’s seat on Dragonstone, and she still would have been usurped. Rhaenyra could have been at the Red Keep when Viserys died, and she still would have been usurped.

There are many themes in this book series that GRRM has chosen to bring to light and criticize, but the Dance of Dragons' main theme is that Rhaenyra was usurped because of her gender. Had she been born a man, there would have been no basis for any of Alicent’s children to have a claim to the throne, beyond being spares. They would have garnered no support, and Team Green as a whole would not exist. The excuse that it is because of her ‘bastard’ children, which, legally, they aren’t, is just that: an excuse. In GRRM’s original draft about the Dance of Dragons, Rhaenyra was married to Harwin from the get-go, and all of her children were undeniably legitimate, yet the war still took place.

A gender-based succession crisis was inevitable, so it is no small wonder that it did occur under one of the weakest Kings’ in the Targaryen’s rule. Jaehaerys set the wheels in motion, and Viserys drove full-speed past the stop sign. He almost single-handedly led his daughter, and their dynasty, straight to their deaths. Otto and Alicent wanted power, and the only way they were going to continue to have any was if Aegon was on the throne. Their scheming began when Rhaenyra was 9-10 years old, what could she have possibly done at that age to prove she wasn’t worthy of the Iron Throne?

Rhaenyra’s biggest crime in Westeros was that she dared to be a woman; a woman who wanted her inheritance. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. If the war didn’t happen then, it was going to happen at some point, further generations down. It is no coincidence that after Rhaenyra’s death dragons ceased hatching, save for small, weak creatures that would not last long. The magic died with her. Her story’s resemblance to the Amethyst Empress all but confirms that. The equilibrium of Ice and Fire is put into shambles once again upon her and the dragons' deaths; the Long Night is now inevitable.

Rhaenyra was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. Her story is meant to be a tragedy. A tragedy whose meaning seems to be getting lost along the way in this fandom.

[fannish-karmiya]

I know I said no meta, never again, I know, but...

Something I've been thinking about lately is how we really all underestimate what a message Jiang Yanli is sending every day through her domestic actions. It's easy to dismiss traditionally feminine roles such as cooking and sewing as just 'part of patriarchal expectations for women', but consider this:

Wei Wuxian isn't, to anyone else in that household, a member of the family. He's a servant, one allowed to live with the main family but still essentially a loyal retainer given certain 'privileges'. And yet Jiang Yanli mends his shoes on his first week at Lotus Pier, shells lotus seeds for him at the table, and cooks and serves him his favourite dish that she makes.

Traditionally in China, even an upper class daughter was viewed as very filial for doing tasks like cooking and embroidery and sewing for her family, first her father's family and then the family she marries into. In particular, doing these things could be a tactic employed by a new bride in order to earn the favour of her new in-laws and show that she's a filial daughter-in-law (along with things like sharing items from her dowry with the family, rather than keeping them to herself as might be more practical in case the family ever turns her out).

(While it's specifically about the Song dynasty, a good source for social expectations for women and what their lives were like in ancient China is The Inner Quarters by Patricia Buckley Ebrey. I highly recommend it if you're interested in learning more about the subject.)

Every day, when Jiang Yanli mends something for Wei Wuxian, or shells lotus seeds for him, or cooks him his favourite dish, she's saying silently but very loudly: he is a member of this family. He's my brother, so I do these things for him.

Why do you think Yu Ziyuan scolded her for it so often? Why did Jiang Cheng scold Wei Wuxian for being the recipient of such gestures ("whose servant is like you, having their master make soup for them")? Because as far as they were concerned, Wei Wuxian was a servant and should not be the recipient of such gestures. And Jiang Yanli just kept doing them, over and over until the day they both left that household.

It wasn't only at Phoenix Mountain that Jiang Yanli stood up publicly and claimed Wei Wuxian as her didi: it was every single day, through those domestic gestures.

[12pt-times-new-roman]

I fully forgot that I pre-ordered Exquisite Exandria until it arrived this morning, so you know what that means!

time for lore!

The Dawnfather is also the god of time. (pg. 77)

During celebrations, the "vow of Vasselheim" is recited: "we remember and thank the gods who saved us. We honor their magic and practice no other. We remember the hubris that nearly destroyed us. We will never forget again." Vasselheim's culture and/or governance (but not the entirety of Issylra itself) believes that arcane magic was the cause of the Calamity, and refuses to make the mistakes of its ancestors. (pg. 77)

There's a particular sentence that could allude to Gruumsh, the Ruiner having been the one to bring down Aeor: "he drove his spear clean through [Cael Morrow] and into the ground below, detonating a third of the continent in one gigantic strike." Using "clean through" and "detonate" here is reminiscent of Matt's description of the smooth borehole and mile-wide crater in the Genesis Ward. (pg. 102)

The Dwendalian Empire has declared that "divine magic and most religious worship are trickery and deceit." This is why they found the Kryn Dynasty's theocracy so threatening. (pg. 152)

The Cerberus Assembly is referred to as "a pillar of corruption at the heart of a totalitarian government." (pg. 153)

Essek Thelyss is canonically a member of the Mighty Nein. (pg. 154)

After Yasha brought her book of flowers to Zuala's grave, she started her own flower garden with Beau, and the first seeds she planted there were from the Blooming Grove. (pg. 190)

Athodan tried to use gravity magic to reverse the over-ripening of fruit. It failed, but the resulting concoction was used to taunt and celebrate him for months. (pg. 206)