#he never brings up the fact that he knows what day it is when Soren is distracted during sparring

[stuck-in-jelly]

Angsty Magefam headcanon of the day

Although Soren was more than willing to corporate and help with the sealing and uncovering of his father’s hidden passageways, he was unable let anyone do anything with Claudia’s old bedroom.

For the past 2 years and a half it has remained untouched for the most part. No one goes in there except for Soren on Claudia’s birthday.

It started when they got back from the Spire. Her birthday had just passed, and they had a surprise party planned months in advance for her as usual. Except, of course, she’s not there this time.

But a small part of him hopes hopes that maybe she came back home, so he went into her bedroom to see any signs that she had been there that she had returned to at least grab a few things.

But he found nothing. Everything was just as she had left it when they went on their journey to Xadia.

So he just sat there in her room alone, thinking about the gift he had gotten her that he hid in the panel behind her bed frame. He considered fishing it out but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The next two years after that he went into her room in the early morning of her birthday with poorly made pancakes and coffee and sat down on her bed to enjoy them alone. Soren spends most of the morning in there.

He spends that time dusting a bit and talking to ‘her’ to catching her up on his life and what’s been going on in the castle. He tells her how much he misses her and really hopes she comes back home.

[raayllum]

For the commentary meme:

“I know sibling relationships can be complicated,” Soren meandered, pulling at his collar when Ez didn’t directly look at him. “But I’ve known you and Callum a long time, your whole lives in fact, and—”

“The world won’t end if my brother and I don’t talk to each other for a week,” Ezran said irritably. Callum might've been able to forget about the past oh so easily, but Ezran couldn't.

“No,” Soren agreed, soft and wise. “But you might regret it.”

It had been only with a day’s notice, after all, before their father had been taken abruptly from him. Only a few weeks before Claudia had garnered white hair and a staff and Soren hadn’t seen her for two years. Maybe it would be best to… even if Ezran was angry, and even if he wouldn’t renounce his choice not to help, he and Callum could still…

It was late that night, four days after their fight, that Ezran went up to his room with the intent on trying to hash something out in the morning if his temper didn’t get the better of him again.

There was a letter and the assassin’s bow lying on his bed.

Ezran, the letter read, his shaking hands nearly tearing it two before his eyes could focus on the word. Callum’s handwriting. We figured out the location of the Starscraper and we left a few hours ago. Maybe the time away will help. Help change his mind, surely, was the unwritten intent. Look after the prison while we’re gone. It shouldn’t be more than a month at most. Stay safe.

And then a blank space where I love you should’ve gone, a half formed letter like that was all Callum had been able to bring himself to manage.

Below that was slimmer, messier writing. Rayla.

Ez,

I’m sorry this is the way things have gone. I hope we can make it right once Callum and I have come back. I know this is difficult and I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for my part in it. I left behind Runaan’s bow as an apology; it’s yours to do what you want with. He won’t need it anymore. I’m sorry, again. I promise I’ll keep Callum safe while we’re gone.

All my love, Rayla

A tear smudged the ink before Ezran set the letter down and wiped at his face. The bow loomed over the cushions, blue against red.

He wasn’t sure why he was crying when he wanted to scream instead.

want commentary on a scene from one of my fics? send me the passage and i'll write up some meta/thought process stuff

Ah the ending of chapter 4 / where the brothers have left off until further notice!

This scene was really important to me to get right since it is that Great Schism for the brothers, ultimately. I thought it was very Ezran for him to still sort of think things could turn out if he just puts in the effort / has another conversation (he's angry and grieving, but he's not Bitter before this as much), only to not realize Callum already hit his breaking point 3 days prior during their fight — arguably at 'Callum stared at him with cold eyes. “Dad would be so disappointed in you.”' — and made a game plan accordingly.

Only then, because Callum feeling betrayed by Ezran already happened (“She’s our family, why isn’t that—”), does Ezran have his turn of feeling betrayed by his brother. Like Ez isn't being fair, but he's also not being entirely unreasonable. But being lied to / stolen from and then left with only a letter (and even Rayla being more guilt ridden / softer because she and Ezran weren't arguing directly) has got to sting.

I feel like partially because Callum is his older brother, even though Callum can be frustrating / meaner than needed sometimes... Ez has never known a time without his brother, y'know? They're not always on the same side (1x09 my beloved) but having Callum's care and priority is something that Ez has built a lot of his life on, even as the timeskip kind of chipped away at some of it because Callum was such a mess.

And at the same time while Callum is giving as much as he can while also holding space for Rayla, he's holding back and being unfair too, just like Ezran. Which Ez kind of knows, because he's crying instead of screaming because even though he Wants to be angry about all this, he is at his core mostly just Sad (which is the way grief usually works anyway).

Basically: I love situations where everyone's feelings are valid and understandably there even if what people are doing with those feelings is messy and wrong while also not being entirely wrong, either, and this scene was a great way to showcase this.

Other notes:

Throughout the fic Soren is almost always Right™ since I think Soren, due to the breadth of his personal experiences and what he's given himself time to process (or not to process), and he has a unique perspective here in regards to how everything's gone down (which gets explored more later). Here, he's thinking about how he and Claudia disagree on so much but still love each other, and seeing Ez and Callum being not nearly as splintered, of course (and they're not) but still at risk of splintering if they don't get some of their shit in gear.

You also have Rayla, who in typical "Rayla's internalized fashion" is constantly running damage mitigation and her goodbye letter, this time to Ezran, is full of it as well as her own assurances that Runaan can/will change upon release (which is not something Callum promised Ez earlier) because we love bias and Rayla's rare optimistic streak that mostly concerns her loved one's abilities to be Better than they necessarily are in this household.

[kehideni]

The Dragon Prince - Dark Magic

I might get some heated arguments againts me but hear me out if you do, and if you do, do try to keep the argument in a constructive path.

That being said, here's what i think:

Dark Magic is not evil.

It is not good either, it is - as all things really - dependent on who's hand it is in. Who's willing to pay and what.

Dark Magic is a means to an end, Dark Magic is not the short cut, it's the purchasing of a way, where there is usually none. "Unpassable" becomes just another kind of "passable".

Unavoidable famine becomes avoidable.

Humans can not kill an arch dragon by any means, Avizandum was a several tonn, flying, lightning beast that you could not out-think either, since he is just as much a sentient person as your average human is.

Viren paid a price to kill him, granted he was not the only one that had to pay said price. (And this is where things become scetchy.)

As a person working in healthcare i can't blame Claudia for killing a deer (who live for about 6 years on average anyway) to restore Soren's health. The severity of her actions wasn't even suggested by the deer's death either, it was shown when Soren got healed:

The problem isn't that a deer had to die, the problem is what Claudia had to pay, something i'm not sure she knows the full extend of.

She said to Callum that humans just squeeze the magic out of creatures and use that, she never mentions what she feels after using a spell. Viren and Claudia both look very... err ghoulish after so many years of dark magic. It changed them and we as audience still don't know just how much it does, all we do see is that 1. it makes you look pretty close to death and 2. gives some sort of access to your body to Aaravos (and we don't even know why or how that happens or if it should happen at all)

Why i say that? Because the only person we see use Dark Magic and not pay a price at all IS Aaravos. There are still things missing from the big picture here.

Onto the materials:

Plants and animals are one thing. You can eternally argue for and againts, but at the end of the day: it depends on what the magic user is willing to pay. To Claudia it was worth it to heal Soren, and that was an act of love. Eventhough she doesn't seem to realise she paid something too, not just the deer.

But later on Soren said that Viren cut the assassins that attacked King Harrow up for parts. That's not a gray zone thing, that's 100% vile and rotten. And Pyrahh was also about to face the same thing, and we know that dragons are all sentient, they just need to reach an age of 75something to be able to talk with humanoids(for some reason).

Viren was also the person to see Sarai passing away, and instead of being there for her for her last moments, he... collected her last breath. The severity of that is not that he used air from her lungs, but the fact that as a fellow human that just got saved by her, he didn't think of returning her compassion to him - ... with compassion.

When someone dies in front of you- and believe me i had my experiences with that -there are things that run through your mind.

NONE of those things is to collect a material for a possible revenge attack. It's not a humane thing to do. It's not something that Viren would have done if there was not something in him that got twisted.

To bring in another character from another IP: Arthas was able to become the Lich King by a long chain of events, but it started with his willingness to purge a city.

You can argue that he did it for their sake, since Stratholme was doomed for something worse than death, but Jaina and Uther left because it was just not something they were able to do and see. Stratholme was cut down when they were not yet scourge, they were cut down when they were still very much human. They were long poisoned yes, but they were not yet monsters. They WOULD be shortly, but at the moment of their death, they would be human.

Arthas was willing to do that, which was ultimately speaking of his lack of compassion and humanity. He was the kind of person that COULD and would become The Lich King, because he was able to dehumanize his own people in a blink of an eye.

What's the difference with Callum's use of dark magic and everyone else's?

Essencially not much. Callum himself never had to slay any animal to use it's body parts for magic, but that really doesn't make a difference.

He doesn't actively seek out chances to use dark magic, and to him it really is a last resort sort of thing. If for the well being of Rayla he MUST pay the price of Dark Magic (something that he, akin to Claudia, doesn't know the full extend of) then he will.

This is why the second time he uses Dark Magic it's not brushed off, eventhough all he did was change some chains into snakes. ("So what?" Will most of us say.)

To me, the tragedy of this scene

is that this time he knows that it wasn't just a tentacle that got used. Callum now knows that he is willing to damn himself for Rayla. He knows he just gave more access to his body to Aaravos, the dude they are on this very same journey to stop in the first place. His corruption is willing. Unlike Claudia(who still doesn't know) and Viren- who seemed pretty surprised learning that Dark Magic takes more from him, than any creature he has slain.

Kind of controversial isn't it?

It's not like Primal Magic can't be used for evil purposes anyway.

It all comes down to what you are willing to pay, is what i'm saying, and humans just happen to be the bargaining type.

[the-indigo-writes]

(trigger warnings for death, blood, scars, and mentioned emotional and implied physical abuse.)

From the far-up window, Seraphina Summers gazed at the purple twilight and its blazing red horizon. It was unsettling to her; not the fires and the horrors of the probable end of the world, but the fact that she felt justified in letting it happen.

All the other supers were dead. It had come down to the valiant Summers family, all of them the best and the bravest at what they did. When Scott and Melissa had met, they were the most beloved and powerful supers of their day. But they had witnessed how age decayed the value of heroes, and when the public tossed someone away, they could never bring themselves to be triumphant again. So to avoid such a fate, the two agreed to craft a fake love story and begin the most legendary super family, and create a neverending legacy. Their children would be just as gifted, just as powerful, and just as willing to pass their talent to the next generation. And for Savvy, Soren, and Sterling, the plan had worked... but Seraphina held nothing supernatural in her blood, and she had no desire to bring children into such a fucked-up way of life.

Not that any of it mattered now. The battle was just beginning, and they all knew how it would end.

The elevator doors slid open behind Seraphina. Savvy stumbled out, clutching the women's father. Scott groaned as blood trickled from his forehead. A glowing alien blade protruded from his calf.

"It's true," Savvy gasped. "Their defenses are arranged completely unpredictably. They change every two hours. Access to their base is nearly impossible, and information is inaccessible due to the scrambled signal."

Seraphina did not turn. She wasn't hearing anything she didn't already know. "Find any remaining medical personnel for the old man. I'll gather everyone. It's time for last-ditch efforts."

"Look at me, Sera."

Silence. She didn't move. The fire burned green with foreign fervor.

A defeated sigh. "This is Summer Violet calling for any medical personnel. Report to the observation deck for multiple injuries..."

*~*

The six Summers huddled around unnervingly clean chairs and sofas. Scott and Soren were both heavily bandaged. The invasion had begun two days ago, and every scouting mission had been a failure. The alien enemy was gaining ground quickly. The city had been evacuated, but not without considerable losses.

"So, we draw a grave conclusion," Seraphina decided. "There is no infiltrating or breaking the ranks of enemy armies, and there is no information to be gleaned about their base, their leaders, their intentions, anything. They're a complete mystery to us, and they're kicking our asses."

"There's no way to get more outside help?" Melissa asked desperately. "No contact with teams from neighboring counties?"

"All forms of efficient communication are blocked," Soren said.

Sterling shook his head and took his mother's hand. "We need to face it," he said, softly but firmly. "There are no alternatives. We need to bring out everything we have. We need to make sacrifices."

Savvy shook her head feverishly. "Not every solution has been exhausted yet. We should-"

"Stop trying to find a way around it," Seraphina cut in. "We are at that point, friends. We have nothing else to do."

Scott sighed deeply and brokenly. "Oh, my dears. I've failed."

Tears gathered in everyone's eyes. "You are not a failure," Sterling reassured. His chest shook.

Savvy reached for Soren's shoulder. Her brother stared at the floor. "Damn this stupid world," he muttered. "Why does everyone hate it so?"

Seraphina stood watching silently. Melissa Summers looked at her youngest child. "I am so sorry."

You should be, Seraphina thought. She chose her words carefully. "I am sorry too. And I wish you could have been saved."

Scott looked away in shame.

"We had no reason to believe you," Soren argued. "We felt we shouldn't have wasted..."

"No," Sterling cut in. "No, we have to let go of our pride. Seraphina, we were wrong. We were stupidly, fatally wrong to think you would lie about something this big. We should have listened to your warning. And we are sorry enough to pay for it."

Sadness scratched at Seraphina's heart. Of her siblings, Sterling was always the nicest. They were the closest in age, and when they realized that Sera would never be what they wanted her to, Sterling refused to treat her much differently. But he was not free of all guilt.

Seraphina nodded mournfully. "Either way," she said, "It ends today."

Savvy whimpered. No doubt she was thinking about her spouse and children, and that Soren was doing the same. They had been the first to evacuate; the family needed a failsafe, after all.

"A few more tears and a few more words," Scott announced, "then we meet our fates."

*~*

Five of the six Summers floated above Eternal Sun Tower. Though each of them had slightly different gifts- speed to Melissa, pure strength to Soren, future sight to Sterling, and so on- they all had the same energy coursing through their veins, a bright streak of other-worldliness that burned destiny into their bones. And it was said that, when the force of such energy was combined. sheer force unknown to man could be displayed and erase anything in its path. Including those who wielded it.

Seraphina traced the scar on her arm where a special Super-doctor had cut her open, only to reveal that she possessed no such energy. And she remembered the years that followed; the insistence that she was still their family, followed by the teasing, the pushing, the dismissal, the drunken rages. She was a map of every bit of abuse thrown her way, and she crafted a ruthless leader from the path it had created.

The once-purple sky now grew black and empty, only to be punctuated by pure white glow, so bright and searing that it felt illegal to witness.

Seraphina watched only for a moment before turning to the self-driving car. She got in, entered the coordinates, and calmly settled in for the ride.

A scream of agony rose from the enemy hoards. Surely they were dying in unspeakable pain. Their base, their technology, their entire army, it would all be nothing very soon. And so would the legendary Summer Supers.

Seraphina exhaled as all her pain shattered into glorious sacrifice.

You were born without powers, which made you the black sheep of your superhero family. Eventually, you became the director of an agency that deals with superheroes (a la Nick Fury), and now you are the boss of the family that shunned and picked on you.

[sweet-vanilla-sims]

Year 1619

TW/CW: Death, Child Death

With war on things had felt normal for only the briefest of moments since it was being fought so far away but news began to come in through Talia's Tome of deaths, most of which Vincente had no clue of who they were aside from distantly related. That said, he began to exchange notes with a young woman who lived far away which became the highlight of his day.

Perhaps it was rash but after the tragedy struck close with Samuel's death in February and then Margaret and Satoshi's in April, Vincente began to feel that life was fleeting. Frideswide advised him to follow what he thought would be best for him.

After taking the time to think it over, Vincente was convinced that waiting would be akin to tempting fate to torment his peaceful life and so he decided to bring up his idea to Adrian. He had decided that he was going to travel and bring home the young lady he had be exchanging letters with for the past few months. Adrian thought the idea was insane to travel so far for a person that his grandson hardly knew especially when he still wasn't certain what he wanted from his future but it wasn't as if Adrian could say too much about his grandson's love life considering he was chased out of his hometown for good reason because of his.

All Adrian could do for his grandson was give his blessing and prayers that his no longer very little grandson would have safe travels and the young woman would be a good match for him. Vincente appreciated his grandfather's support and that June he set off to bring home his love.

The house felt empty with just Adrian. Frideswide did blow through randomly but it was remarkably lonely. The famine in Mt.Komorebi took both Terric's wife and youngest daughter while the war in the west took his grandson Barnaby. So much death in other places made the tranquility of Tartosa feel surreal.

A new guest arrived at the home in early August as Frideswide was shocked to find her brother-in-law at her door. He explained that with Watson fighting at the front his parents were wanting him to take over the farm but he felt it wasn't his place since the home should have gone to Watson and therefore, Angus and Ferdinando. So he decided to head to Tartosa since it was peaceful and he could keep clear of being given something he felt shouldn't be his.

Frideswide was glad for his company. After catching up about the state of the Carlisles he had left back in Henford, Frideswide took it upon herself to introduce him to the people she knew in Tartosa if only to ignore the fact that Soren had grown up to be quite handsome, that was a line she was not going to cross. Luckily, Soren felt the same and soon found himself daydreaming about the women of the Laurent family. There was the lovely noblewoman herself, Sofia, and there was her lady-in-waiting, Faustina Jaleel. Both of the women had caught Soren's eye and he could only dream of catching their attention.

November came around and it was clear that after trying again, Grace and Aurelio were expecting their third child. Ignacio had made it clear he wished for a boy but after two girls, Grace was also hoping for a son if only for the novelty.

December brought with it terrible news for Frideswide and Soren, Watson had died in the war. From what they gathered from his parents through Talia's tome, he had gotten injured but the method didn't matter too much since for them it was heartbreaking to know he was gone. Frideswide never really thought herself as old enough to be a widow but now she was one. The war was making war widows left and right.

Adrian tried to cheer her up but it was hard to all things considered.

What really lifted the spirits of the home was Vincente coming home with his love, Alexis Akiyama. The young woman was still a stranger to the household but after months of travel with Vincente the pair were close and the love between the two was sickly sweet.

Alexis did her best around the household from making fast friends with Frideswide to getting into the habit of tending the crops.

Vincente had waited until Alexis had settled into his home before formally proposing though the entire household knew that it was merely a formality since he had literally travelled months just to bring her home with him.

Adrian knew Alexis the second he saw her but it took him a few days for the realization to set in. His niece Rebecca was the girl's grandmother. It was weird to think that the little girl he had left behind in Henford had not only passed a long while back but was the grandmother of a child of marrying age even though he knew that there was a lot more he had missed from back home. Life went on with his family when he wasn't paying attention and the girl before him was proof of it.

Surprising no one four days after Vincente and Alexis had arrived in Tartosa, the two wed on December 6th. Thankfully no other news in the family had come through and so the Carlisles were glad that despite the losses, the decade at least ended with a union of young love.

[joshslater]

Mr. Wolf

This story is a collaboration with Soren Fitz.  Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

“Evening, Mr. Wolf,” I say, with a little smile, as I open the door and see the imposing mountain of a man outside. He’s dressed in practical work clothes and a hi-viz vest, this time. He keeps jumping between jobs for whatever reason. I’ve never dared to ask him why, and now is certainly not the time.

“Bitch!” he dourly snaps back as he pushes past me into the apartment, carrying a toolbox. The “B” is resonant and explosive, but the rest of the word doesn’t suit his low vocal range, and comes out softer than he undoubtedly would have liked. Something like “Fuck off!” suits his voice more, makes it clear in no uncertain terms that if you continue whatever you’re up to you’ll lose your consciousness. But he’s not really mad. He wouldn’t be here if he was. He’s never asked me to call him something else, so he is accepting my teasing. So far, at least.

“This bitch has meat,” I say, gesturing vaguely toward the table next to him. He recklessly drops his toolbox on the floor, but he seems to take only a cursory glance at the charcuterie board.

Yesterday I took the trouble to walk all the way over to the European deli for a more exclusive spread. Boar salami, Pata Negra ham, Finish cured bear meat. The owner talked me into buying a bottle of Sonoma Merlot as well. All that stuff was expensive enough as it was, but compared to what I get out of our arrangement I’ll still come out way ahead.

But, and this is par for the course, he just ignores it all, turning around to stare at me instead, eyes blazing. I’m still standing at the door, which I’ve just barely locked. He moves fast for someone of his size. “I didn’t come here for that kind of meat. I came for your ass. What the fuck are you waiting for?”

There it is. That booming, commanding voice, with more than a hint of violence. He knows what we’re doing, knows how I like him to act once we strip. But damn if I don’t want him to take it easy with me before he brings that attitude of his and flattens me like the meat on that plate.

“Just a little bit of wine and dine,” I suggest. “Just relax. I’ll still be ready for you after.” And it’s out—my brazen effort to make him slow down a little bit and talk for once about whatever the hell this is before pounding me for every pound I spent on us. The problem is that I’m not sure he cares about all of that, or any of it. But I want to make an effort, at least. Before he leaves for another month.

He seems to hesitate for just a moment before his eyes narrow, furiously piercing me. And then he makes a move, sauntering toward me, stripping his vest and shirt off of his solid, thickly muscular form and throwing them on the ground, only breaking eye contact briefly when the shirt comes off. Like a predator sizing up its prey, he stops for a second before gripping my hips tightly with his hands, shoving me up against the door. He leans in, hot breath slipping over my lips, and growls, with increasing volume, “If I drink any of your wine, it’ll be long after I stretch your ass so fucking wide you can keep the bottle in there even after you heal. I fucking told you,” he says, in some kind of aggressive exasperation, “what the moon is doing.”

I bite my lower lip. He had warned about getting more aggressive, something about apogee and perigee, so I’m not unprepared for this mood of his. At least, not mentally. Physically I can just barely handle him. It always feels like I’m the keeper of a big cat sanctuary, petting a tiger that could decide to end me at any moment if it should find the room service not up to standard. Today feels like the day it all might go to hell.

“Sue me if I need a little time to get comfortable with the fact that you’re going to wreck me so hard I need time to heal.” The way he’s talking, it sounds like I’m in for far worse than normal. And although that’s what I want… I want more.

His hands slide to my ass across my sweatpants and grope into it roughly, fingers digging in and kneading like he owns me. “I need to fuck you,” he rumbles. I want more than that, I want to say, but I can’t get the words out. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. The hardest it’s ever been. I need to fucking ruin you.”

I bite my lower lip again, arousal throbbing in my groin, telling me how much I want it, how good I know it’ll feel, at the same time that my brain tries to warn me how much it’s going to hurt—wrong move, brain, I’m horny for that too. I struggle with my heart, instead, the gripping question, ‘Could there be more?’

But I don’t think he’s in the mood to answer that today.

“Alright,” I say, giving in—as if it was up to me at this point—and though his fingers immediately dart to my sweatpants, ready to yank them down, he stops, pulls his hands away, and steps back. “I’ll give you some comfort. You have until you get to the bedroom to get ready,” he says.

I grin, immediately starting to head towards the room, stripping off my shirt as I walk backward, watching him drop his pants, his cock springing up to life, huge and threatening and covered in slick precum. “Aww, does the big bad wolf have a little w—” I can’t finish the sentence. The moment I start talking in that teasing tone, the fucking growl he gives makes the hair stand on my arms, and he’s on me before I realize what was happening, shoving me bodily into the bedroom and spinning me around, yanking my ass up against his crotch and grinding aggressively.

We haven’t even reached the bed, but he grabs the back of my sweatpants and pulls them down, and pulls me towards him. I hear the snaps of threads breaking, probably ruining the elastic waist of yet another pair of sweatpants, and then they just slip right down, and I brace myself for the moment of abrupt, ass-wrecking penetration. His cockhead smashes up against my asshole, thick and hot and wet with what must be his lube-like precum—but he doesn’t burst in.

Why? He could wrench open my sphincter and break it in half with one thrust. But instead, he’s hesitating, breathing heavily behind me, pushing his thick head just hard enough to give me a gentle stretch, not hard enough to sink in.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I could… shove every inch in you right now. Pound you the hardest I ever have.” He pushes a little harder, and I feel myself start to stretch more. Precum pulses against my hole, sliding in warmly and helping lube me up. “Make you take it ‘til you fucking cry.” But he relaxes his pushing, and my hole settles down. It was starting to burn a bit. His cock is so damn big. “But it’s gonna hurt.”

“I know that,” I groan. And I want it.

“You sounded like,” he begins, clearly struggling with his words, “you didn’t want it yet. If you’re not ready…”

I strain my neck to look back and up at him. Even though we can’t make exact eye contact I can see his hunger. I can see how he’s holding himself back. I know that if I somehow was able to stop him, make him drink wine with me, he won’t be happy. I want to know he cares, that I’m more than just a convenient hole, a mutual arrangement that we carry out without feeling. But maybe this is his way of showing me that. Maybe it’s the best way he can right now.

Maybe some other time.

“I’m ready,” I say. And then the curse I shout sounds so loud I must have rocked the house, as, in a motion that would stun anyone else for its surprising speed, his massive dick penetrates me to his balls. He’s speared me open as deep as he can go, as deep as I’ve ever gone, and the change of sensation inside me, the sudden fullness and sense of intrusion, the burn of a brutal stretch, and the overwhelming pleasure make me loll forward, caught from falling only by his hands on my hips and his bludgeon of a cock shoved at least ten inches up my ass.

But he knows I can take it.

And he knows I’m no match for his size and strength—though I may not be as small anymore, in very large part because of the cum he pumps into me month by month. He hugs me and straightens me out, lifting me, carrying me in front of him, his dick and my body bouncing as he steps toward the bed, every stomp reverberating through me. I moan almost pathetically, my sounds rising and falling with the bounces.

He practically dives onto the bed, with me underneath him, and the impact pushes him even deeper, making me gasp and strain out a strangled moan. And then he’s pulling back, pushing in, harder each time, and I know that if I don’t get myself in position right now he’ll crush me against the bed. He might do it anyway. I slowly, carefully move myself up into bridge position as he pounds away, building up a steady rhythm that’s growing harder and harder as he tries to hold back for me.

And then I’m on my knees, on my elbows, not exactly at risk of collapsing to the bed, but he has the stamina to keep at it for a long time, and he’s only fucking me harder, and I know he’s not going to stop. His hands grip my waists, his hips start making audible smacks upon hitting my muscular ass, and I brace myself for the long haul…

A long haul of brutal thrusts in a steady rhythm that some would call uninspired—if they weren’t experiencing the biggest cock they’d ever seen hammering straight into their poor, forcibly rearranged guts with every rhythmic thrust. But they wouldn’t notice him changing because, if they weren’t experiencing it, they wouldn’t have the attention span to notice how, every minute or so, he would change things up, making his thrusts longer on the upstroke and harder on the downstroke, or would start jackhammering into my gut so hard, so long, that I could barely talk.

When he promised to wreck me, he wasn’t lying—except maybe by omission. Sure, I’m wracked with pleasure all from my gut to my ass, precum trickling from my cock again and again while it bursts out of his in volume that far surpasses anything I could ever make. But everything fucking aches—my sphincter is sore, the muscle fibers torn from the thorough fucking; my guts are sore, rearranged, and then beaten up from the inside by his bludgeon of a dick until I’m sure that I’m a mess of internal bruises; and my usually tight stomach, rippling around as a pregnant dog as his cock head makes its way around my intestines, feels like it must be black and blue from getting punched from the inside.

The minutes of pleasure and soreness, bliss and ache, blend together, one after the other, disappearing and reappearing as I moan until I’m hoarse and slightly delirious of all the fluids I’ve lost in sweat and precum. It’s not fifteen minutes we spend like this, not thirty, I swear it must be an hour of wordless grunting and desperate, pathetic moaning, of jackhammered thrust or long, battering blows, of bruises spreading across my body and precum filling my inner works, but it comes suddenly. I feel him hug me, letting his full weight drape across me, and as he murmurs, “Gonna breed you, bitch,” I feel the base of his cock start to inflate in me, and I let out a loud whine of pleasure and pain as his knot expands to stretch out my poor, already ruined sphincter.

I feel the first shot of cum blast into me, so hard and thick and deep that it surprises me with its power, but I’m almost immediately distracted from my surprise by the overwhelming pressure of his knot. My gasps and moans get louder and louder until they turn into a veritable howl, even as he keeps filling me up with cum in such volume I can feel it rushing through me, greedily soaked up by my parched body.

But the cum does its work, and I can feel the warmth and strength of it spreading through my body even as it physically fills me. I can feel my entire body tensing up, his hormones slipping through the lining of my guts, into my bloodstream, wreaking delicious havoc on my body. I can’t feel the pain of his knot anymore; my sphincter’s getting stronger, healing, clenching tighter around his knot and making me gasp in pleasure. And his cum fills me with energy—I just know that if he hadn’t already made my heart race and my skin sweat from the thorough fucking, his cum alone would have done it instead.

He’s still cumming, the swelling of energy in my body translating to the swelling of my body with his cum. It’s so damn much that I can feel it pressing against my walls, trying to find a place to fill, and the only thing it can do is make me stretch. The bulge in my gut grows, spreading from the tip of his cock across my tense, hormone-suffused abs, but tight as they are, they can’t prevent me stretching with his seed, until I have a little roid muscle gut, pleasure and hormones raging within it even after he finishes dumping the majority of his enormous load inside of me.

“Hnnnng,” he groans, gently tugging the knot in my ass, sending pleasure mixed pain up my spine. Neither of us is going separate ways anytime soon. His cock is still pulsing, I can feel it, probably losing smaller loads of cum with every throb, but with the sheer amount already inside me I wouldn’t be able to tell. “Fuck.” Despite having done this now for several months I can still barely believe that I’m knotted, that I’m stuck to his dick, at his mercy—trying to pull out prematurely, after all, would be much more unpleasant than anything he could have done to me while fucking the life out of me thrust by thrust. But I can’t help but find this biological bondage hot as all hell, and I’m not embarrassed to admit that, the first time he let it slip that he was a werewolf, it didn’t take more than a day thinking about that wolf dick before I begged him to fuck me.

He gently rolls us over so we’re lying on our sides, the bigger man spooning me, wrapping an arm around my side, and rubbing my distended cum gut. “That was… a lot,” I say, and I’m surprised by just how damn hoarse my voice is. He already came a lot, normally, enough for me to feel the weight of it inside of me, but he must have been saving this load up for days, more than a week, even.

“Maybe,” he rumbles, so slowly that I wonder if he’s about to fall asleep. He’s done it before, fall asleep with his knot stuck inside me—not that he would have had a much easier time pulling it out if he were awake. It’s a little frustrating, as hot as it is, because while I’m stuck on his knot, the hormones, stem cells, whatever it is he pumps into me ends up coursing through my veins, and, all of a sudden, all I want to do is work—go on a run, lift some weights, punch something. And when I finally do get off his knot… well, the gains are insane.

I’m not quite ready to lose him to sleep. “That’s so sweet—” I start, in that teasing tone I used on him earlier, but he stops me right away.

“You’re hoarse,” he says and starts to shimmy us off of the bed, carefully putting his feet on the ground, his cock still buried deep inside my guts. And then he heaves me up, off of the bed, into his arms, my back hugged to his heavy chest, and he walks with me, his footfalls making me rise up and down. I’m already hard from the hormone infusion, but the tug in my ass each step makes my tick tingle. He gets to the table with the charcuterie board and sits down surprisingly gently, gesturing toward the wine glasses.

“Right,” I say, sheepishly, and I reach for the wine bottle with alertness that still surprises me. After an hour of getting fucked like that, my limbs should be wobbling. But my body’s working overtime with his cum inside me, and when I hit the gym later today, it’ll pack on muscle effortlessly for as long as I keep lifting.

I pour out the Merlot into one of the glasses, but when I get ready to pour it into the next, his hand stops me. I frown, but he can’t see that, so I just cork the wine and take my drink, and when I take the first sip, the relief it gives me when it pours down my throat is amazing. “Shit,” I hiss, and I keep swallowing it down, much faster than one should usually drink wine, but I need the moisture.

When I’m finished, I set it down, and to my surprise, he picks it up and, presumably, brings it to his lips to taste what I’ve left behind.

“Good wine,” he says, in a rumble, but his hands slide down my naked body to my two muscular cheeks—soon to be even better—and grope them slowly, steadily. “Better ass.”

Well, it’s better than nothing.

“Still dry?” he asks.

I try speaking. “Hopefully not. Yeah, I’m good.”

Then he rises abruptly from the chair and starts taking me back to the bedroom. “Wait, you’re—not going to—I mean, the charcuterie—wine and dine me?”

“Bitch,” he whispers into my ear, chuckling low. “I’m tired as fuck.” He sits down gently on the bed and lays back, pulling my body down with him, and then he turns us on our sides again so we can spoon. And then, as quickly as he lies down, I hear his breathing slow and feel his arm around my side go slack.

The first time he fell asleep inside me, I spent that knotted hour restless and eager and frustrated, and I’ve only gotten a little better at dealing with the weight since then. It feels like every drop of energy he expended fucking me has flooded into me for me to use—and more. I discovered, after the second moon cycle, that with enough protein bars, I can lift for twenty-four hours straight before I crash even harder than he does.

Today feels like progress. And although it’s dangerous to think this way, I’m starting to feel like the gains I’m making with this big bad wolf are more important than the gains I’m going to make in the gym tonight.

I just hope he feels the same way.

[authortobenamedlater]

Posting this now in case the finale proves me right or wrong. 😂 These rambles brought to you by way too much time waiting for my grocery pickup order.

Here are some reasons I think Halo MIGHT go for the Demon Spawn (as I’m calling it) angle next season:

It would up the ante for John and Makee. Not only are they dealing with each other and being on opposite sides of a war, now they are trying to save THEIR CHILD. The child both of them desperately love and desperately want to keep safe. Does this child unite them? Divide them? Both depending on the day? What would be the Covenant’s plans for the offspring of their Blessed One and the biggest thorn in their side? How far will John and Makee go to save their baby from each other?

Men in armor and helmets tearing the galaxy apart to save their kids are hot stuff in sci-fi at the moment.

Makee would have to reckon with her view of humans when she realizes that view would apply to her own kid. She would also have to reckon with her loyalty to the Covenant when she sees that their intentions for her child might not be the best, cause we know they won’t be.

John is good with children. We see this with Kwan, admittedly not done very well, but we still see it. Kessler takes a liking to him and even in his awkward and stiff way, John reciprocates. The show has gone out of its way, particularly in the last few episodes, to demonstrate that while Master Chief is a human wrecking ball, John is gentle and kind.

It would at least make The Scene a relevant plot device.

The biggie: In another life, John would have wanted his own family. When he meets Soren’s wife and kid, and then goes into his own childhood home and sees memories of parents who loved him, you have to think John started wondering if that could have been his. If he would have had a “normal” life with a wife and kids and a dog had Halsey never taken him (I touched on this in Choose You This Day).

The bigger biggie: The Halo showrunners do not seem to care who they piss off. In fact, I’d wager they enjoy subverting audience expectations. It’s like they all sat around a table and said “Hey. This show is going to draw a lot of ire so LET’S JUST GO FOR IT.” The Master Chief lost his helmet in E1 and his virginity in E8. Would Baby Chief really be out of the realm of possibility? Do we put anything past this show anymore? I don’t.

Before you all come for me with pitchforks and torches: I do not think this would be a good idea. I really, really do not want the show to go here. I’ll read a million fanfics about Daddy Chief. I might even write a few of them. But this is one of those tropes that makes great fanfiction and lousy source material. Unless you’re Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni, and Halo’s production team has painfully demonstrated that they are not.

This brings me to my final point, why Halo won’t/shouldn’t go with this idea: It makes absolutely no sense that the Spartans would not have been sterilized.

Halsey planned the abduction, replacement, and memory wipes of 100+ children. She planned their enhancements and training. She managed to cover her tracks for 30+ years. Do we really think she would overlook assuring that they wouldn’t get up to extracurricular activities and possibly throw a monkey wrench in the whole thing?

In fact, there’s some evidence that the Spartans WERE sterilized. John says he “thought it was impossible” upon meeting Soren’s son. But Soren DOES have a son. Maybe Kessler was a miracle baby? Hey, vasectomy babies happen. Maybe whatever 26th-century sterilization method they have is reversible. But would John know that? Would he even think of it? Maybe he went into his thing with Makee thinking they were protected and Baby Chief is another miracle baby. By John’s own admission, he should not be able to have children, so if he does the show needs to explain it.

Buuuuut. Halo has surprised me enough that if they did decide to go this way, I think they might actually swing it. Or, it would be a total glorious dumpster fire that we all just can’t stop watching.

[jelzorz]

76.

It's Marcos who finds her. There's some irony in the fact because she's injured and exhausted and soaked to the bone from the storm, only this time she lives because of him, but that's beside the point. The point is that she's back. The point is that she looks like she hasn't slept in weeks.

The point is that Soren isn't the one who should be patching her up. He's just the only one she'd allowed Marcos to get.

It's an awkward way to spend the afternoon. Soren was there the day when she left—it was Callum's birthday and they'd had a surprise planned for him, but her absence had put a spanner in the works of that party before it even got off the ground. Callum's been sad a bunch of times in Soren's presence, but never like that. What is there to say to her now? What exactly is he supposed to do?

"You don't have to do anything," snaps Rayla, in spite of the way he's already bandaging her wrist. It's pretty damn swollen and Soren's no doctor, but he's pretty sure it's broken in at least a couple of places. Knowing her, she'd probably refused to give it the time to heal. "You don't even have to do this. Just... don't tell anyone I'm here."

He raises an eyebrow at her at that. "You can't be serious."

Rayla bristles. "I mean it, Soren."

Soren stares at her. He's not the brightest, and he's said a lot of dumb things over his life, but that, by far, is the dumbest thing he's ever heard. He opens his mouth and then closes it again when the sound doesn't make its way out, then stares pointedly at her wrist. "Can I at least get you a doctor?"

"No."

"Hell, Rayla." Soren straps down the bandage and runs a hand through his hair. "No offense, but what the fuck?"

Rayla wrinkles her nose and settles against the wall of the cave she's made camp in. The firelight makes her look gaunt. Soren wonders if she even has the energy to fight him off he decided to bring her home himself. "No one can know," she mutters, curling into herself.

"Why?"

"It's just better this way," she mumbles. "For everyone. Ezran wouldn't let me leave again, if he knew, and Callum—" She sucks in a breath. "Callum can move on."

Soren actually laughs at that. "You're not staying."

"No."

He scowls. "Why come back then?" he snaps, perhaps with more venom than he intends.

Rayla hesitates. She looks away. "I missed him," she whispers.

"So?" Soren scowls again and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Go see him then!"

"I can't."

Soren's anger fails him, if only for a second. Meekness doesn't suit her. He doesn't even know her that well, and even he knows that this is wrong on so many levels. "Why?" he demands. "Because you hurt him? Because you think he hates you? Do you even know him?"

Rayla says nothing. She draws her hood up around her head with her good wrist and makes herself even smaller still. It'd be heartbreaking if she wasn't being so stupid.

"Rayla," he tries again, gentler this time, half begging for her to listen, to stop being an idiot, to just come home. "He's not angry at you. It's been months, and all he wants is for you to come back. Please. Don't hurt him anymore."

But Rayla only shakes her head. "Your dad's still out there," she murmurs. "Claudia too."

"Yeah, I know," snaps Soren. "But I'm not stupid enough to try and face him alone. Tell me you're not either."

Rayla says nothing. The bandage on her wrist glows in the firelight.

[official-weasley]

Charlie's Helping Hand

A/N: For all who don't know @am-i-space and I are (healthily obsessed) with freckled gingers who steal your heart because they are adorable and pure! Two of those are the one and only Charlie Weasley and Commander Gren from The Dragon Prince.

We have made up quite a few stories about them (separate and together) and about a month ago we came up with Charlie being friends with Gren and Amaya. @am-i-space had the idea for a drawing of the 3 of them at once and without really knowing we were doing it, we started working together on this little project below my rambling!

After definitely not losing their mind about the eyes and Charlie's hair EVEN ONCE and me finally getting the inspiration for how to bring Charlie into a different universe, we are ready to post it!

As you might've figured by now the drawing below this author's note belongs to the beautiful, talented and amazing @am-i-space who pleasantly surprised me with every draft piece I received of this drawing and the story behind how this drawing "came to be" belongs to yours truly.

PS. Read to the end to find out how this beautiful piece of art came to existence in the story 💙🖤

“Charlie, you are going to love Katolis.” Gren grinned at his friend as they were walking up the path that will take them back to Gren's homeland.

“I love traveling so I think I will have no problem with it,” Charlie smiled back at him, “and besides you said that it's full of magic and dragons just roam free. It's like you are describing a dream.”

“It wasn't always like that. Dragons were feared and people and magic folk didn't know how to live together.” Gren sighed, remembering the days before their land became one.

“Right, king Ezran and his brother were running away from an elf assassin and they found an egg and joined forces to return it to its mother.” Charlie narrowed his eyes, trying to get the facts straight.

—

It's been almost two years since the great battle at the Storm Spire. The dragon queen has awakened and Zym was finally reunited with his mother. She took care of him, taught him how to fly better – even though Ez did an incredible job already. She also showed her son how to roar and how to use his electric breath.

Xadia was one land again and it thrived like never before. The magic spread to the Five Kingdoms and the people and the magic folk could move freely without sneaking around and fear each other.

Everything was perfect until one day when the dragon prince went flying and got caught up in a giant storm. Because he was still struggling to control his wing movement – when the winds were strong – he got caught up in a whirl and got smashed into a mountain.

Azymondias was found by his mother after she went looking for him as he didn't return home. At first, he appeared to be fine but when the queen wanted to take him flying she noticed that one of his wings was damaged. She sought help from the king of Katolis and his friends.

King Ezran's heart was broken when he found out and gathered a party to visit Zym at once. He couldn't believe it was even worse than he imagined it would be – all of Zym's bones in his left wing were broken and no matter how many elves and how many mages they gathered, nothing could mend his wing.

It seemed that all was lost and that the dragon prince will never be able to fly until one night when Commander Gren was finally ready to talk about his experience of being locked up in the castle dungeon by lord Viren.

He told his best friend general Amaya about everything he heard and seen happening. With his help, they were able to find the coins in which Viren stored souls and with the help of a high mage from the kingdom of Duren their lives were restored and Runaan was safely returned to his husband Ethari and his adopted niece Rayla.

Because Gren found it hard to talk about the whole situation and would gladly completely forget about the horrid experience, he decided to visit Runaan at his home in Silvergrove.

Every time Gren woke up in the middle of the night, having a nightmare that he was back in that dungeon, he felt like he was missing something. He knew that Viren was going down there for a reason and not just to interrogate Runaan. The thoughts kept him awake and he tried his hardest to remember where he was going and if he heard any noises that would help him figure it out.

As Gren expected, Runaan wasn't keen on talking about his experience in the castle of Katolis either but when Gren explained his feelings and the need to talk about it and to help him find out what was happening while they were there, Runaan put his feelings aside and decided to share his part of the story.

When Runaan told Gren about the weird questions Viren was asking him about a mirror and what does it do and how important it had to be for the lord because he seemed very frustrated when he didn't get his answers, Gren decided that it was time to put his fear aside and head down to the dungeons once more.

After telling Amaya everything and informing her of his plan to go and investigate – being so sure that the guards missed something when they rescued him – Amaya wanted to go with him.

She knew Gren more than anyone and it still pained her to this day that she was so far away when everything Viren was doing back at the castle went down that she simply couldn't allow him to relive that alone. She knew Gren was brave and just about the most optimistic and cheerful person she will ever have a chance to meet but she also knew that behind his bubbly personality Gren was hiding all the negative feelings and the trauma of what he went through in those few weeks while being down there.

She knew there will be no way of stopping Gren from going because he has never been so sure that something Viren was hiding down there could help Zym so instead of arguing with her lieutenant she decided to go with him.

As always when they go on a mission they geared up – better be too safe than sorry – and headed to the dungeons.

Before they opened the door that led to the lower parts of the castle, Amaya turned to Gren one more time.

Are you really sure you want to do this? She signed.

I am. I have to see what is down there or I will never have a peaceful night's rest. Gren signed back, his brows furrowed in determination.

Amaya just nodded, admiring how brave her best friend was for facing his problem head-on, and opened the door.

They walked down the stairs and came to the place where Gren was cuffed.

Amaya gave him a worried look while Gren avoided looking at her and the wall he was chained to. Taking a deep breath he first headed to where he knew Runaan was kept. They only found an empty cell with a small window with bars on it so they headed in the other direction.

They have been looking around, opening doors to empty cells for about half an hour until Gren tried turning the knob of a wooden door and it didn't open.

He exchanged a look with Amaya who nodded to him that he should force-open it with his foot. Gren did as he was told but the door still didn't move.

Amaya frowned – not liking when something didn't go her way – so she stepped next to Gren and counting to 3 on her fingers they repeated the action together. The door gave way to their force and they stumbled inside.

The room was a bit bigger than the others they have found. It was windowless making it completely dark with only a small wooden table, a chair, and something covered with a cloth.

Is this it? Amaya signed at Gren who was observing the covered artifact with his mouth slightly opened.

Gren could only muster a small nod. Amaya knew that this was hard on Gren and even though her curiosity was growing she gave him the time to make the step toward it and uncover the object.

The commander shook his head to collect his thoughts and swallowed thickly before approaching it. He lifted his arm slowly, grabbed the cloth, and pulled it down. Amaya and Gren both gasped, not prepared to see a mirror in front of them.

At the first glance, it looked like any other mirror, but then something shone inside it and their reflections disappeared. They saw what looked like an empty office or a library. They knew at once that this was no ordinary mirror and that it would be best if they don't meddle with it but call in someone who might better know what this mirror is for or better yet what it does.

After a month of searching and inviting the best mages in the whole land, including elves from all parts of Xadia, they figured out that the mirror served as a prison in another realm for a startouch elf. They were able to find an elf that knew of startouch elves and who they were.

The only one of their kind the king of Katolis and his aunt Amaya knew was Aaravos who they had to fight to keep Zym alive at the battle that brought them peace. Since lord Viren was associated with Aaravos it was only reasonable that he was the one who was inside the mirror.

King Ezran wasn't delighted to find out that this wasn't the last they would hear of the elf and wanted to resolve the mystery behind the mirror at once.

“You mean the little bug that turned into an elf with a bigger bug around his shoulder?” Soren asked, perplexed when Ezran was telling him, Callum, Corvus, and Opeli what was going on.

“Do you know anything about him?” Ezran gasped, encouraging Soren to tell him more.

“Well, not really. Father was very secretive about him. I remember when we were marching to Lux Aurea he was talking to the little bug on his ear. If my memory isn't deceiving me, Viren was telling him about how he and your dad, Ezran, defeated the dragon king.” Soren said, rubbing his chin and trying to remember more.

“Why would Aaravos want to know about that?” Opeli failed to understand.

“Perhaps he was trapped in the mirror when that happened?” Corvus suggested.

“Viren sounded very proud of his accomplishment, speaking with the voice he uses when he brags about something to someone for who he thinks he did them a favor.” Soren continued.

“Why would killing Zym's dad be a favor to Aaravos?” Ezran thought out loud.

“No!” Callum gasped and stood up.

“What? What did you remember?” Ezran wanted to know.

“No, it's too farfetched.” Callum swung his hand for them to stop paying attention to him.

“No, no. Do tell,” Opeli encouraged him, “perhaps you are onto something.”

“Well,” Callum cleared his throat, “would it be possible that the dragon king had something to do with Aaravos' imprisonment inside the mirror?”

“Get aunt Amaya and gather the elves and the mages again! We have to discuss this!” Ezran stood up and gave the order to Soren and Corvus who nodded and rushed out of the throne room at once.

“It would be possible for the dragon king to entrap the elf inside a mirror.” The high mage of Bel Dur said after hearing the proposal from prince Callum.

“However,” a mage from Neolandia cut in, “in order to do that Thunder would need someone from the realm on the other side of the mirror to help him, making your idea invalid.”

“Why?” King Ezran wanted to know.

“Well, to do that sort of powerful magic, the dragon king would have to have a dragon on the other side of the mirror from which to draw that kind of power.” The mage explained.

“Why would that make my idea invalid?” Callum asked.

“Because there is no such thing as dragons in other realms,” the mage said confidently.

“An hour ago you didn't even know there were other realms and now you are trying to convince us that in those other places dragons can't exist?” Opeli raised her eyebrows.

“Alright,” the mage sighed, “let's say that a place where Aaravos was entrapped does have dragons, how exactly does this help us with the dragon prince's wing?”

“Don't you get it?” Ezran stood up. “Nobody in Xadia can help Zym and this other realm could be full of dragons. What if there is someone who could heal Zym? What if they possess just the magic we would need to help Zym fly again?”

“You do have a point, your majesty,” the high mage of Bel Dur bowed to the king, “however...”

“However, how do we know whoever lives on the other side isn't a threat to us? To the dragon prince, to our kingdoms? Who is to say that they would be willing to help us?” The mage interrupted him.

King Ezran decided to call a meeting with the dragon queen to ask her if she could confirm their speculations and wasn't all that surprised when she told him that it was the dragon king who imprisoned Aaravos in a realm called Earth where magic works differently than in Xadia and despite Aaravos being the strongest and the most ancient of elves, he wouldn't be able to use their type of magic.

After much deliberation, king Ezran has decided to take the risk and explore the realm on the other side of the mirror.

“We have to help Zym. No one in the whole Xadia could mend his wing and we have to try. We can't have the dragon prince not be able to fly. I know it's dangerous and a lot of you will think that I am making a rash decision based on my feelings and me being a kid, but this is how I decided and I am willing to take the risk for Xadia and our kingdom.” Ezran said, his brows together in determination. “We needed years of war and conflict to unite our lands together again and if we aren't willing to help and take the risks needed to move forward then we are back at the beginning and I will not allow that to happen.”

The crown guards and the king's advisors nodded, agreeing with him, while some of the mages from other kingdoms had their reservations.

In the end, it didn't matter as only a day later were they gathering a team courageous enough to walk through the mirror and seek help.

You want to do what? Amaya was signing as fast as her fingers allowed her, frowning at the idea Gren just proposed.

I need to go. I feel that I need to go. I had the feeling about the mirror and look where it brought us. Gren tried convincing her.

You did enough, Gren. Amaya pleaded.

It's been so nice to have him by her side again after being separated on so many occasions during the war and now it will happen again and Amaya wasn't sure she can let it happen.

Soren is going. I have to try. This could be my chance to prove that I am not only good at interpreting.

Nobody is saying that Gren, and you know it.

You never protested so much before, what has gotten into you? Gren wanted to frown but his expression softened instead, looking at his best friend.

I guess I got used to the fact of you being by my side again. Amaya moved her fingers slowly as if she was hesitant to admit this.

“Oh.” Gren breathed out loud before stepping closer to Amaya and pulling her into a hug.

I know. I feel the same but please give me a chance to do this. I will be back before you know it.

Gren bestowed Amaya with one of his warming smiles to which she never could stop her lips from curving too.

Alright, but promise me you'll be safe and cautious. She playfully nudged him in the ribs before hugging him again and saying goodbye.

The next day Gren, accompanied by 5 of Ezran's most trusted crown guards – including Soren – and a mage made their way down to the dungeons once again to walk through the mirror and seek help from the other side.

It took 7 mages to figure out how the mirror works and how to get the crew through it. They warned them they will have a small window to do this that's why they couldn't take more people.

Gren was standing in front of the mirror – the last one to be transported through it.

“Here we go,” he whispered to himself, took a deep breath, and without turning his head to see his best friend one more time, disappeared.

—

“And this is where I come in.” Charlie wiggled his nose, trying to hide that he was nervous as Gren told him the story for the fourth time.

“Look, I know it sounds insane.” Gren sighed. “We found a mirror who entrapped the most powerful elf that ever lived in Xadia and then we went through it, followed the roar of a dragon, found the Sanctuary, and for some reason you were mad enough to say yes to our proposal.”

“In my defense, you said that a baby dragon... No, no, let me correct myself – a storm baby dragon – which is a myth here on Earth, needed help and then you said that you are not from Earth at all but from another realm so you tricked me.” Charlie sniggered.

“Well, my hidden talent to know when someone cares for something deeply has finally come to use.” Gren smiled proudly.

“Just don't get your hopes up. I might be a dragonologist but you said that no wizard...”

“Mage.” Gren corrected him.

“That no mage could help Zym so I am not sure how much I can do.” Charlie bowed his head.

“I know, but it is admiring that you are willing to try and I believe that you will be able to do something, if nothing else advise us what we can do to help the dragon prince,” Gren said cheerfully, looking at his friend.

He and the guards have only been on Earth for a month and they are already going back – needing far less time than Gren or anybody expected them to need to figure out how the people on Earth could help Azymondias.

They were lucky enough that the late dragon king set Aaravos' prison near the Carpathians mountains which also happened to be the secret hideout of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.

They were walking for 2 days before they heard a dragon roar and followed the sound for another day before they arrived in front of what looked like an abandoned gate. The mage tore down the enchantments and without thinking twice about it, they entered.

To say that the people working in the Reserve were in shock and not really sure what they were looking at was an understatement. It doesn't happen every day that a group of people with armor and swords walk straight through the gate.

Luckily, dragonologists are very simple and open-minded people – Gren has noticed – so it was easy to explain what was going on.

The second they said that a dragon needed help, a bunch of them volunteered but Gren knew that they can only take one person back so he asked the kind people if they could stay for a few days to observe their work and then pick the one that seemed the best suited for the job.

Charlie stood out to Gren immediately, because he was one of the few that simply raised their hand to volunteer instead of being loud and jumping in the air. His calmness suited him and he intrigued Gren the second he followed him around the next morning and saw how he handled the dragons.

The fellow red-haired dragonologist reminded Gren very much of king Ezran and how he talks to animals. The second Gren decided that this business was too urgent for him to be shy and not talk to him, he approached the dragon tamer and asked him about his ability to talk to dragons.

Charlie cocked an eyebrow at him and laughed a little, thinking the commander was joking, only to compose himself a second later when he saw just how serious Gren was.

With observing his work and asking him all sorts of questions Gren deemed him perfect for the job.

He wasn't even that surprised that he got Charlie on board without any effort.

The second the sun rose the next morning and Charlie said goodbye to the dragons and his co-workers, they made their way back to the mirror.

—

Gren, you are back! Amaya was waiting next to the mirror for them to come back and hugged her friend the second he came out of it.

I'm alright. It went pretty smoothly. Gren smiled proudly.

Who is this? Amaya signed, nodding at Charlie and scanning him from head to toe.

This is Charlie Weasley, he's a dragon tamer back in the other realm and he is here to help Zym. Gren explained.

He's cute. Amaya winked at her friend.

I thought you were in a committed relationship with Janai? Gren giggled.

I meant for you. Amaya nudged him, making Gren's face as red as a strawberry.

Without replying, Gren rushed everyone out of the room, making the excuse to see Zym as fast as possible.

Amaya sent a squad to bring Zym to Katolis so that Charlie would have the time to settle in and get some rest and that he wouldn't get too overwhelmed by his surroundings.

The second he saw the dragon prince and heard his cheerful squeaks despite having an injured wing, Charlie's eyes glowed and he felt like all his dreams came true to see a dragon that not only doesn't breathe fire but can zap you with electricity.

Gren explained to him to the best of his abilities why they call Zym the dragon prince but when he bowed to the young dragon and heard the people behind him giggle, he knew he took it too far. With his cheeks turning scarlet, he cleared his throat and asked everybody to give him and Zym some space so he could do a proper check-up on him.

Amaya, Gren, Ezran, Callum, Soren, and Opeli all watched as Charlie sat down next to the dragon and started whispering something to him. It only took about a minute for Zym to trust him which – with everything Gren saw back in the Sanctuary – wasn't surprising at all.

Zym let Charlie position him in a way to have full access to the wing, while constantly murmuring something under his breath.

“So, did you manage to find out how to help him?” Ezran asked the second Charlie stood up and walked to them.

“I...uh...” Charlie stuttered not knowing how to begin.

“What? What's wrong?” Callum put his hand over his little brother's shoulder.

“I don't want to be rude so I don't know how to say it.” Charlie was embarrassed.

“Hey, we trust in your expertise so don't worry about it.” Gren encouraged Charlie to speak.

“Well, his wing is broken, you got that right but because dragons here and on Earth are magical creatures, magic can't help them much.” Charlie shook his head.

“So, there's nothing we can do?” Ezran was on the verge of tears.

“Quite the opposite, this is very good news. I thought that we would have to mend his broken bones with magic.” Charlie said in a cheerful voice to put Ezran in a better mood.

“And we won't need to use magic?” Soren got curious.

“No. Because Zym is still so young and will need years to grow fully, we would just have to immobilize his wing as much as possible until his bones mend themselves.” Charlie explained.

“It's that easy? ” Amaya signed, looking impressed and Gren interpreted.

“Yes. Zym is still growing and like with children it's easier to have a broken bone when you are young than when you're an adult. If Zym will be a good boy and obey when I put bandages on him, he should be better somewhere from around 6 months to a year if he is like the dragons we have back at home.” Charlie couldn't hide how proud he was of all the knowledge he had on dragons and healing.

“How are you going to wrap him up?” Ezran was beyond happy to know that his friend is going to be just fine.

“With magic, of course.” Charlie pulled out his wand.

“You made a mistake of trying to heal his wing with magic directly, that simply doesn't work with one of the most powerful beings in the world. In cases like this, you have to turn to the good old remedies.”

He walked back to Zym who extended his wing as much as he could for Charlie to do his magic.

Gren and his friends couldn't quite decipher what Charlie said for pieces of cloth to start flying out of his wand and bandage Zym's wing for him not to be able to move it.

“So our mission was all for nothing?” Gren bowed his head.

“On the contrary, commander,” Ezran grinned at him, “if you hadn't brought Charlie here, we would worry about Zym for years and his bones could regrow in a wrong way, and from what I can see, you wouldn't have made a friend.”

“True.” Gren gave the words of his king some thought.

“Also, I think that mister Weasley doesn't mind meeting another species of dragon.” Opeli giggled.

Gren turned around to where Charlie was trying to make Zym hold still so he could cast the spell with bandages on him a few more times and smiled to himself.

“Yeah, you're right. It was completely worth it.” He observed his friend doing his job for a few seconds more before the heat on his cheeks became too much and he turned to Amaya who winked at him with a smug expression on her face.

Gren playfully rolled his eyes and walked to Charlie.

“So, after you do this, how long is it going to last?” He wanted to know.

“Well, Zym is a very energetic and jumpy dragon and these bandages have to be tight for as long as possible so I would have to change them a few times per day.” Charlie chuckled when Zym let out a happy squeak.

“Meaning you will stay here?” Gren tried sounding normal but was bad at hiding his excitement.

“Would that be okay?” Charlie scratched the top of his head. “I mean I don't know how realms work or if this is even allowed?”

“We can ask the mages but since we stayed on Earth for a month, I think it wouldn't be a problem.”

“Well, I love traveling and would love to help Zym for as long as I can, so I wouldn't mind at all.” Charlie couldn't believe how lucky he was to embark on this amazing adventure.

“What about the people back at home? Won't they miss you?”

In the time Gren spent with Charlie, he had the opportunity to get to know him very well and it became evident early on that Charlie was a man who would do anything for his family and his loved ones.

“They will,” Charlie shrugged, “but they are used to seeing me only a few times per year and besides, it's work-related and they understand how much my job means to me.”

“In that case, I would...” Gren cleared his throat. “...I mean we would love to have you.”

“It's settled then. I am staying. I would just like to ask if there is a way for me to send a message home?”

“I am sure that can be arranged.”

Charlie and Gren turned around to the voice and saw king Ezran smiling at them.

“I would like to thank you personally, mister Weasley...”

“Please, king Ezran, call me Charlie.”

“Only if you stop calling me king,” Ezran giggled, “my friends call me Ez and I think it's safe to say that you are now a friend. Wouldn't you say so, Gren?”

“Exactly!” Gren exclaimed.

“As I was saying, I would like to thank you for doing this. You have no idea how much this means to the magic folk, to us people, and me personally.” Ezran walked to where Charlie was kneeling next to Zym and wrapped his arms around him.

Charlie let out a suppressed chuckle, not expecting a king to hug him, but then returned the embrace before standing up.

“I will need a place to stay.” Charlie giggled nervously as they were standing in front of the castle door, waiting for the guards to let them in.

“You can stay with us,” Gren said and pointed behind him.

Charlie turned around to see Amaya signing to Gren for him to interpret.

“I think you will fit in with us just nicely,” Gren translated while Amaya sent Charlie a wink.

No amount of freckles could hide the dragon tamer's burning cheeks as he couldn't believe just how nice everyone in Katolis was.

Gren and Amaya took him to the garden the second he came from the much-needed shower from all the kisses and licks Zym gave him. They were sitting on the bench and conversing – Charlie trying to take in as many signs as he could because he was determined to learn sign language.

“Charlie, I bring good news!” Prince Callum came out of nowhere. “Ez told me that you want to send a message home and asked me to talk to the mages. They can prepare the mirror for you tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Callum. That is indeed great news.” He grinned at the prince, relieved that he will have a chance to explain to his family where he has gone to.

“Now that it's official and you're staying I think we have to give you a rank.” Ezran appeared next to Callum.

“A rank?” Charlie tilted his head in confusion.

“And armor!” Callum exclaimed.

“What are you two talking about?” Gren chuckled at how excited they were and glanced at Amaya who just giggled as if she was hiding something.

Amaya, what did you do? Gren's curiosity got the better of him.

Well, since Brandon retired last year I am without my third in command so I am giving that position to Charlie. Amaya explained.

“To me?” Charlie jumped in his seat after Gren told him what was going on. “But I can't fight!”

“You are doing admirable work, worth of a title.” Gren interpreted.

“I-I don't know what to say.” Charlie was left speechless.

“Oh, I know what you could do!” Callum gasped loudly before running away from them.

Not even 5 minutes later, he came back with his sketchbook in his hands. Without saying anything he ordered Gren, Amaya, and Charlie – who were sitting on the bench – to stand up.

“We will celebrate with your official portrait,” Callum explained his actions.

The trio exchanged a look and then turned around when they heard someone clear their throat.

“Callum, you can't draw them without Charlie being in his new uniform.” Soren shook his head and handed Charlie a package.

The redhead was looking at it in awe before being rushed to the closest bathroom to try it on.

“Oh, look at you!” Soren and Ezran said together, admiring the scales on Charlie's chest.

“You look...” Gren's mouth fell open, lost for words.

Dashing. Amaya signed and winked at her best friend.

“Uhm, yeah.” Gren nodded.

Come on, Gren. Say it to him. She encouraged him.

“Dashing. Uhm, you...you look dashing.” Gren knew there was no way to hide his strawberry freckled face but seeing Charlie blush at his words too, he no longer cared.

The trio positioned themselves in front of Callum who drew them and as the crew watched him hard at work, sneaking looks at Charlie, they knew their group gained a new friend.

[narrans]

A Tall and Small Collection | Soren | Disagreements and Risk

Brady returned a few hours after Soren, Dorian, and Rey brought the fabric and thread back to their camp; and they managed to accomplish a lot even with their limited resources.

Rey and Dorian now had padded bedding three cloth pieces deep. Dorian demonstrated his cleverness by folding one piece of fabric into thirds rather than spreading out three separate cloth pieces. This allowed their beds to be close but separate, which was a good thing. Rey was known to “borrow” covers in his sleep.

They also managed to set up a tent-like overhang over their beds to help capture heat. This idea was Soren’s since he had more experience constructing tents.

When Brady returned empty handed, Soren couldn’t bite back his groan. His utterance earned him a spiteful glance from Brady. “What was that about?” he asked shortly. Soren glanced toward his brothers who were currently holding a race to see who could fold blankets and pack the essentials fastest.

“You’ve been gone for hours and you didn’t manage to find anything useful,” muttered Soren under his breath. Brady huffed and began heading for the beds. “Wait a second. I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

Brady stopped, folded his arms across his chest, and turned to face Soren half-heartedly. “What’s that?” Soren cleared his throat and gestured for them to take a few steps away. Soren’s mind was racing, but he knew he had to bring it up – his brothers needed proper borrower training, and soon. Once they stepped away, Soren began.

“I’ve been thinking it over and I think it’s way past time we show Dorian and Rey how to start borrowing.” Like a band-aid, Soren blurted out the main objective. Brady stiffened instantly. He had never liked borrowing, which showed by his lack of effort and his complete lack of competence.

“Out of the question,” snapped Brady. “They’re far too young and we don’t know enough about this place.” [We’d know more if you would do something and contribute to the family.] Soren forced his thoughts to remain in his head. Instead, he took a calming breath through gritted teeth and stared at Brady.

“Look, I know we don’t agree on everything, hardly anything in fact; but they need this,” stated Soren. “If something were to happen to one or either of us, who would they turn to. They don’t even know the basics.” Brady growled, shoulders hunched and posture tightening.

“I feel like I already know some of the basics of this place. There are two entire apartments which aren’t being used by any humans. They can work on speed and strength, climbing and maneuvers. We can tell them all day about what they need to know and understand, but that’s no substitute for hands-on practice; and that’s what they need.”

“And what happens if and when humans fill those apartments? Where will they practice then?” demanded Brady.

“Then we’ll stay in the walls and practice or, better yet, take advantage of the havoc humans go through when relocating and borrow necessary building materials. These are fundamentals, Brady!”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me Soren. I’m older and more experienced. I’ve seen things…” Brady’s voice trailed off. Soren opened his mouth to argue back, but noticed a messy mop of light, sandy brown hair duck behind the corner. He pinched himself hard and held back.

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, keeping his voice measured. “Still, Dorian and Rey are what this is about. I’m looking out for my brothers and we’re doing them no favors by keeping them in the walls. They’ll have to learn one day, and now seems like the safest time.”

“So what? You’re asking my permission?” Soren had had enough.

“Not really,” he said quietly. “I’m just telling you what I’m planning and what I’m going to do. Join us if you get the chance.” [You might learn something.] Soren walked back around the corner toward their camp before Brady could respond. Their conversation hadn’t gone as smoothly as Soren would have liked, but at least he was able to say his piece.

When he returned, Dorian and Rey were huddled on their beds, legs crossed. They looked nervous. The sight made Soren’s heart sink. [They heard me arguing with their dad. Great.]

“Is… everything okay?” asked Rey, his soft, sweet voice barely carrying past their tent project. Soren tugged his lips into a partial grin, though it was more for reassurance than how he was actually feeling.

“Everything is fine. Your dad and I had a difference of opinion.” Soren remembered his mother had used this phrase when talking with Brady countless times. “We were talking about something important.”

“What’s that?” asked Dorian. Soren sighed before looking his brothers in the eye.

“Your borrowing training. It starts today.” The young boys’ eyes widened, each for a different reason. Dorian, excited, leapt out of the bed and cheered.

“No way! We’re going to get out and borrow stuff? That’s wicked awesome!”

Rey, on the other hand, seemed to shrink into himself a little more. He was excited, but also hesitant. Rey didn’t say anything, but Soren could tell the experience of seeing the outside world a few hours earlier was more scary than exciting than he let on initially.

“Since I have to go out again for food supplies, you can start with some simple exercises like pushups and leg bends. We’ll go over some of the basics tonight when I get back and start first thing in the morning. Sound good?”

“Awww!” whined Dorian. “Can’t we come with you? We can stay in the walls while you go out.” Soren chuckled.

“Not today bobbin. I have a long list of things I need to get. Anyway, you two have a task. See how many pushups and leg bends you can do until I get back, okay?” Soren smiled confidently at his brothers once they nodded an acknowledgment before standing and heading for his supply bag once more.

“Soren!” called Rey, stopping his brother in his tracks. “Be careful.” Soren nodded and gave a quick, two fingered salute before slinging his bag onto his back, securing his hook, and darting into the darkness of the halls.

~~~~~~

Soren hated leaving his brothers, especially after they witnessed a disagreement; but it couldn’t be helped. Soren was confident they had supplies for the next two days; but for a family of four, it wasn’t reassuring. He had already caused too much ruckus in the older human’s apartment, meaning there was only one other place he knew he could go. Unfortunately, he suspected they were home.

The two humans, a man and woman, had sporadic schedules at best. The only upside was that they were often arguing or shouting at one another. Soren hated to think about what would happen if they turned their anger toward their unexpected house guests in the walls, but he was grateful too. If they were concerned with one another, they were distracted and less likely to find him.

Soren jogged to the line he left by the bread box. Instantly, he knew they were home. They were shouting again. Soren felt his heart racing, nerves tingling with unease. The humans sounded louder than usual. He shook his thoughts from his head and tugged on the line, making sure it was secure. Then, he started to climb.

He used his legs to secure the line and his hand to steady himself as he inched his way up the thread. All the while, he could hear more arguing and several loud thuds – dangerously close thuds. Soren hoisted his leg over the rim of the board and laid against the board. The electrical cover was just in front of him. He could hear the humans much clearer now.

“What do you mean, ‘it just happened’?!” The woman shouted.

“Like I said, it was an accident,” replied the man angrily.

“You don’t just fall over on top of someone and have everything after be ‘an accident’.” Soren didn’t understand humans as much as he would have liked, but he didn’t need to understand humans to suspect what had happened. The woman continued. “And you went out last night.”

“I didn’t think I was under house arrest,” retorted the man.

“No, you’re not; but I know you didn’t just go to the shop down the street. You went out with them again, didn’t you?”

“Don’t start with me.”

“You know what’ll happen and you choose to do the same thing over and over!”

Soren remained huddled next to the wall cover and listened for the next ten minutes. It sounded like they were close to the kitchen. If Soren was right, the man would grab the keys and leave while the woman would huff off to another room. Sure enough, the man grabbed the keys and left the kitchen while the woman stormed off. Soren waited until he heard the grinding, whirring gears of the door machine and the roar of the car speeding away. Soren waited another minute before pressing his ear directly against the electrical cover.

He concentrated his listening until he was satisfied with the amount of silence. With fleet fingers, he unscrewed his entrance and stepped out onto the counter. He checked the counter quickly before ducking into the bread box. He couldn’t stay long. There was some bread in the back that had been crushed slightly by a new loaf. Perfect. There was little chance they’d notice a crumpled piece of bread going missing.

Soren opened the bag and compressed the wrinkled slice into his bag. It wasn’t pretty, but an entire end half could last a few days. Soren resealed the bag as best as he could before surveying the counter again. His heart was still pounding, but he kept his breathing even. Soren was about to dart toward the cover when he noticed something on the counter past the stove. His eyes widened.

Fresh fruit, an entire bowl, was sitting on the counter. Soren bit his lower lip. Did he press his luck once again? He already had a close encounter with the cat. He knew the human was still in the apartment. He was fully aware the other human could return any minute. Yet, Soren knew he could grab the first berry he could and make it back to the wall in no time. Before his mind could convince him otherwise, he charged out into the open. He threw the bag onto the counter near the entrance and leapt from the counter onto the stove and onto the other side. It wasn’t a large jump, but it was wide enough to get his ankle caught if he wasn’t paying attention.

Soren wrapped his arms around the first piece he could carry safely, a bright red strawberry, before turning on his heel and darting back. He kept himself low. His chest hurt with every beat. Still, he managed to slip unseen into the wall with berry and bag in tow; and just in time too. Just as his trembling fingers pulled the cover back behind him, the whirring of the mechanical gears and the car came rolling up.

Not as close as the cat, but still risky. Soren made a note to never teach his brothers to take so many risks. He sat against the wood to catch his breath as he listened to the jingle of keys and the human entering the apartment.

He dared not witness another argument. Using his hook, he lowered his bag and the berry to the ground before slipping over the edge and rappelling down safely to the ground. Soren rolled his shoulders once he was securely on the ground once again. He had been lucky twice in one day. Despite this, he scolded himself. [Keep spending your luck like this and you won’t have any if you really need it. You need to set a better example for your brothers, and that won’t happen if you don’t exercise the right precautions.]

Soren slung his bag and the berry onto his back. [Be more careful from now on. Dad was always careful – I need to be too.] The walk back always seemed shorter and soon Soren was back at camp. The scolding he gave himself as he walked seemed less important when he watched the way his brothers’ eyes lit up at seeing him. The risk was worth seeing their bright eyes widen, sweetened naturally by the fresh fruit.

They had their fill, ensuring the rest was secured off of the ground and away from the walls as they curled up for bed. The fabric Soren retrieved was warm and soft, leaving all of them to a blissful sleep – necessary rest for the training ahead of them in the morning.

Continue

Previous

Beginning

[beautifulterriblequeen]

I like the idea of all of Rayla's parents acting the way they did because they have almost only their daughter's safety in mind.

Ok, I have a new headcanon now, about Rayla’s parents, the four of them.

I still don’t have the book (pfff, it’s been 2 months…) but I learned something in an interesting exchange on Reddit : Runaan and Rayla not only have a really good relationship, they have a really strong bond, he’s one of the person she trust the most in this world.

I changed my mind a lot about Runaan when I discovered he wasn’t trying to kill her. And I’m even starting to think this bond is one of the (numerous) reasons he couldn’t kill her, never: because breaking that trust was impossible for him, it’s too precious in his eyes.

But something bothered me (I hope you didn’t already make an analysis on this ’^^): why would Runaan would be so unnecessarily harsh with Rayla that night, in Katolis. Especially in the novel? Why hurting her so much, telling her she’s weak and all? And I think I got my answer (thanks to that exchange on reddit): he knows she’s not weak at all, and he knows they have a strong, really strong bond. If she were to learn he’s about to die, she would follow him to try to save him and so would get killed too. 

Only solution : hurting her to makes sure she stick to her mission and never come back. 

And this led me to think about Lain and Tiadrin. Why didn’t they just run away with the egg? It’s not like it couldn’t have been moved, after all. Ok, they can’t fly, but they could have hid somewhere and escape, no? It would have been smart and Moonshadow elves are maybe all about honor and all, but they’re not stupid. Plus, being stealthy, it’s kinda their thing, no?

So, what if they stayed for their oath, yes, but most of all for Rayla? They know how running away is percieved by their people, they know it would bring shame to Rayla, put her in a difficult situation in their village. So they stay behind for her… too bad Viren didn’t let anything behind to makes the others understand what happened… 

As for Ethari, he was confused and overwhelmed with grief, he made a mistake. But he already proved he can break rules for her, and, another HC, the fact he lost almost everything about Runaan in the Silvergrove will help him to get out of here to go to Rayla when he will find his husband’s flower. I mean, the moonstrider, the moon opal, Runaan himself, Rayla who can’t go home. There’s nothing much left (as far as we know) of Runaan, if not Rayla, no?

So yes, I think he will going after his daughter and his husband, and he won’t let anything stand in his way.

Conclusion: the four parents in the Moonfam really have their daughter’s well being in mind, even if it means for them to die

_____________

Ohoho is this moonfam theories I see in my inbox, @lily-lilou​? *happy wiggles* 

First off, I hope your copy of the book arrives soon. It’s wild that it’s taking so long for some people. :(

I don’t know how many TDP fans here are parents like me, but I definitely see that a lot of parental mindsets got worked into the show as bedrock motivation for the characters who have children in their lives. Viren, Harrow, Sarai, the Queens of Duren, Amaya, Gren by extension, and of course all the moonfam! 

I was a very different person before I had my kids. I think it’s safe to say that I was objectively a worse person, if I’m honest. INTJ’s don’t always get the small picture until it’s right there, every day, changing their world with its gooey smiles and unrelenting adoration. So, knowing that, I’m always interested in how the characters with kids act, and why, and maybe who they used to be beforehand. Because one thing is always the same among loving parents, no matter who they used to be: their children are always, always, on their mind on some level or another, no matter what choices must be made. And the number of cute, dumb, unnoticed, sweet, life-changing, utterly ordinary, and just-because choices we make for our kids literally cannot be tallied. Their smiles, their trust, their courage to head out into a wild and crazy world on their own... we’d do anything for them. Anything. *flailing mom noises*

I totally concur on your view of Runaan. I did write up a post a long time back, with that exact perspective as my take, but I’m glad to see the theory hasn’t dimmed because of the book! To me, the book is just another interpretation of the same issue: Runaan must separate Rayla from the mission at (almost) any cost, even if it means hurting her feelings. At least she’ll still be alive to have them.

That said, he’s a lot more gentle in the show than in the book. I don’t know if the assassins’ rather rabid calling for Rayla’s head in the novel is just a tonal difference or if it’s foreshadowing something sinister about Moonshadow culture which we been knew. It does set a starker difference between Runaan and his team, though. He does have that strong bond with Rayla, and because of it he wants to spare her so much, but he literally cannot say so in front of the others, so he uses his frustration and fear for her life to wordlessly drive her away to safety. 

Both versions work. He’s doing the same thing in each one. He’s still a soft dad in a tight spot, trying to save his precious child from death. And in both cases, he is hard enough to do whatever it takes--even making Rayla feel so bad that she runs off and leaves him to his deadly fate--which he was never going to abandon anyway.

Later in the book, there’s a scene where it’s revealed what Runaan truly thinks about Lain and Tiadrin. In light of that information, it’s pretty clear that all of his insults when he and Rayla were fighting on the castle roof were simply a harder version of his show plan to send her home to Ethari. He’s desperate to keep her out of the fighting, but she’s young and eager and they are bonded tightly, you’re right. So he thinks he has to be harsh in order to save her.

How much easier would it have been if he had felt he could just tell her the truth, I wonder. But that’s not the Moonshadow way, apparently. At least not when you’re layered up to protect your own feels because you’re on a mission of death.

Lain and Tiadrin know what it’s like to love a little one. I think that made them excellent Dragonguards. I wonder, now, if any of the Skywings there had children. Or if their family ties are just looser because of their nomadic tendencies. But Moonshadows are very tightly knit to their families. There was no way in Xadia that Lain and Tiadrin would abandon a helpless child to a dark mage. 

They’d left their own little child with a craftsman and an assassin who would definitely die to keep Rayla out of the reach of dark magic. And they weren’t wrong--Runaan did exactly that. If Rayla didn’t die in the fighting, she’d be captured right alongside him. So that mindset was something that all four parents definitely must’ve shared. Protect Rayla. At all costs. 

And Lain, Tiadrin, and later Rayla all extended that to Zym. Protect the Dragon Prince. At all costs. Because that’s what you do with those little ones you love, who cannot protect themselves yet.

I agree about Ethari, too. He has that protective spirit in his heart, but it’s not nearly as battle-tested as it is for Runaan, Lain, and Tiadrin. He faltered because he lost Runaan, his strongest ally and the love of his life. But he’s never going to make that mistake again. He’s already straight-up breaking the rules for Rayla, and that isn’t going to stop anytime soon. 

He’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. He gave her those awesome butterfly swords so she could make the most use of all the years of Runaan’s training. But now, see... now he thinks he’s the only parent she has left.

Ethari believes he is the last remaining member of the old guard, the phalanx that stood around Rayla to protect her. It’s all down to him now. And you’re right, he’s lost connection after connection with the Silvergrove and his old life. Maybe he’ll straight up head out to find himself a new one. And if he does, you gotta know that it’ll all be in service to protecting his daughter the best way he knows how.

Appealing Rayla’s ghosting to the Moonshadow ruler? Fixing the Moonhenge? Ending the war? Freeing the others from their coin prisons? Saving Callum’s life? Adopting Soren and Claudia? Trapping Aaravos in a primal stone of his own making? I know I say I’d put nothing past Aaravos, but listen. There is nothing Ethari could do in service to Rayla that would surprise me. That is who he is. He’s a family man, and his heart is bigger than all of Xadia. He will find a way, or he will roll up his sleeves and craft one. Because Rayla is the daughter of his heart, too.

[raayllum]

Kpp’Ar doesn’t know what to make of the boy, at first. He’s heard of him of course — even this far near the Del Barian border of Katolis, gossip travels fast. In the four months since the war ended scarcely anyone has spoken of anything other than how — the boy king, his mage brother, the strangely absent Moonshadow elf turned ally. Kpp’Ar leaves wooden cabin once every two weeks to go to the marketplaces, and it’s enough to know that his former student’s reign was disastrously short-lived and violent. 

But no matter. He washed his hands of Viren’s crimes best he could years ago.

Or so he thought, before the loud knocking at his door.

He never got visitors even when living near inner Katolis in his great big manor, so the fact that someone has trekked all the way up the snowy side of the mountain to the cabin, miles away from anyone else... He opens his door with his cane gripped like a club in one hand, knowing his body isn’t what it used to be, frail from age and dark magic use (however disavowed). 

He doesn’t expect a young man, still a bit baby faced at no older than seventeen at most, surely, brown hair permanently stuck to one side of his head to be on the other side.

“No visitors,” he grouses and goes to shut the door.

The young man catches it with his boot and then his arm, a flash of his red scarf revealing a Katolian seal. “I’m not here to sell you anything,” he says quickly, “or anything like that. I’m here to ask—”

“I don’t do dark magic anymore, there’ll be no miracles here—”

“I don’t need your magic. I have my own. I just need information—about Viren.”

Kpp’Ar pauses. No one here knows who his former pupil is, and this boy is far from old enough to know first hand, so—Kpp’Ar stops trying to close the door. “Who are you?”

“I’m Prince Callum of Katolis,” the boy says. “High mage of my brother’s court.” He forces the opening wider and barrels in before Kpp’Ar can stop him, getting snow and wet boot-prints all over his wooden floor. The old mage can feel a headache coming on. “I’ve been doing research and Soren said you might—”

Soren. Kpp’Ar’s heart thuds dully in his chest. Good to know what Viren had done had been worth something. “What is it that you want to know, boy?”

“Dark magic,” he says. “Is there a spell that can bring someone back from the dead?”

Kpp’Ar recoils, eyes flashing. “That sort of knowledge is not—”

“I don’t want it,” the prince repeats, insisting. “The dead—should stay dead. I just need to know if it exists.”

“And why not ask Claudia?” Kpp’Ar demands. “Last I saw her, she had some of my tomes hidden under her floorboards.”

Callum’s expression hardens with familiarity and fatigue. “Claudia’s gone. She—she turned traitor too. And Viren is dead. I know magic, but I don’t know dark magic—and I don’t want to. I-I need to make sure she couldn’t bring him back.” 

Kpp’Ar had never been the best with people even before he’d become an outright recluse, but he looks at the way the prince carries himself—poised amid the uncertainty, tall under the weight on young shoulders—and well, if the rumours are to be believed, the boy’s connected to a primal source. Kpp’Ar had read stories, long thought to be nothing but myths...

He clears his throat and gestures. His kettle can take a little more water. “Would you like some tea?”

Callum blinks, then grins. “That would be great. Thank you.”

Thank you. Viren had said the same, bright-eyed on his doorstep when Kpp’Ar had finally relented to teach him, day after day of the teen showing up undeterred on his doorstep. 

So Kpp’Ar turns away and says the same as he did then. “Don’t thank me yet.” 

He’s never been a man to make promises, either. And no matter what answer the boy seeks, Kpp’Ar is sure the answer he’s given won’t be the one he wants. 

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 6: Dicklips has a Point

Chapter 5: Mother

After a few days in Hoshido, Corrin is finally getting used to the massive emotional baggage that is her backstory. Mikoto invites Corrin to sit on the Hoshidan throne, which is infused with the magic of the First Dragons and destroys magic that alters the body or mind. Mikoto hopes that it will allow Corrin to regain her memories. Before Corrin can sit on the throne and become king of the Westeros or whatever, Mikoto’s strategist Yukimura enters. He looks like a nerd, but I suppose that’s better than being a steampunk MCR cover band dropout like Iago.

The Hoshidan siblings enter and Mikoto tells Corrin that they’re having a ceremony to quash spy rumors and formally reintroduce Corrin into the family. We’re properly introduced to Corrin’s other brother, Takumi. He’s assigned to show Corrin around town and is grumpy about it, because his defining character trait is being a dick. As Takumi and the princesses leave, Ryoma muses that he feels uneasy and predicts that something bad will happen soon.

The gang tours a Hoshidan marketplace. It’s so vibrant, and colorful, and full of life. I haven’t been talking much about this game’s music because I’m not a music guy, but I love the upbeat theme they use for this scene. It feels like something out of Okami and matches Hoshido’s idealized feudal Japan aesthetic perfectly.

Corrin points out that Shirasagi is way better than the Nohrian fort she was held prisoner in for years. Takumi rants that he doesn’t trust Corrin, saying Just don’t get too comfortable…SISTER. I know he’s supposed to come across as a dick, but he has a point. Corrin’s an enemy soldier who invaded Hoshido and killed a dozen people less than a week ago. It doesn’t matter that they share DNA, Corrin should be treated with suspicion.

Takumi also acts suspicious to Azura and says she can’t call him by his first name, which is dumb. What’s she supposed to do, call him Dicklips? Corrin points out that Dicklips is being an idiot and Dicklips tells her to shut up. And really, he is being an idiot. Either hate Corrin for growing up in Nohr, or hate Azura for having Nohrian DNA. Either nature matters, or nurture matters. You can’t have it both ways.

Then again, Azura and Corrin will totally join Nohr and try to destroy Hoshido if we chose the conquest path, so maybe Dicklips has a point.

Corrin tells Sakura that she’s friends with a girl around Sakura’s age, presumably Elise. If the coin flip had gone the other way and I was playing as boy Corrin, Sakura would have asked if Elise is Corrin’s girlfriend. And that’s ridiculous. Can you imagine, Corrin dating their teenage sister? That’s messed up. Good thing that isn’t a thing that happens in this game.

We go to the plaza for the festival. Side note, all shots of Corrin and Mikoto in the festival are positioned so that Corrin’s face is covered by something, like a man wearing an oversized hat, for instance. This is because Corrin is customizable and that means the game can’t show their face. They can show the clearly male body model, but not their face. Awakening had Robin wear a hood to get around this problem, but who needs fashion choices when you can just censor the main character’s face like it’s Austin Powers’s mojo.

While Corrin’s standing next to Mikoto, a weird ghost man wearing a hood walks to the front of the crowd and holds out his arm. Red smoke starts coming off Ganglari and an eye opens up on its hilt, because it is very clearly a cursed sword. Ganglari flies over to the man and he stabs it into the ground, creating a massive purple explosion ball. The sword explodes and Mikoto jumps in front of Corrin to shield her from the shrapnel. As she dies, Mikoto asks Corrin if she’s okay.

Fire Emblem has a lot of dead parent scenes, and I honestly think this is the best. Marcella Lentz-Pope’s scream when Mikoto dies is phenomenal. Mikoto begging Corrin to be alright and dying with a smile on her face is beautiful.

Ryoma cuts down the hooded man but his cloak just falls to the ground, leaving no body. Corrin screams, her hair glowing and her eyes white, physically holding back the pain as waves of energy burst from her body. In a moment, Corrin is gone. In her place is a dragon.

I really like Corrin’s dragon form. It looks so inhuman, more like a machine than a traditional dragon. It really gets across that Corrin has completely lost any semblance of humanity she had as she falls into this pit of despair.

The level proper starts up as an army of dark mages and mercenaries storm into the ruined plaza. Their leader is the ghostly man from before. Interestingly, he’s a swordmaster, a Hoshidan exclusive class that he shares with Ryoma. This level adds Sakura and Azura to our team and gives Corrin an absolutely monstrous boost to her stats, fitting for her rage dragon form.

Sakura

Corrin’s shy, gentle Hoshidan younger sister. She’s a Shrine Maiden (Cleric) and wields healing staves. Her personal skill lowers the damage taken by nearby allies. Her design is fine; I don’t really have any thoughts on it. She seems to be going for this “cute shy healer” personality, which isn’t bad, but Fire Emblem has done it a dozen times before.

Azura

Azura is our Dancer...I mean, Songstress. She sucks at fighting, but allows other units to attack twice, which is really helpful in battle. Her personal skill heals nearby allies at the start of their turns. Her design, despite its bright colors, does a good job conveying how calm and mysterious she is. Azura is an enigma. She clearly knows more than she lets on, but currently seems content to just follow Corrin around.

All of the mercenaries in this chapter wield special, dragon killing swords, which would be a problem, if Corrin didn’t have as much defense as the rest of the party put together. This chapter boils down to letting dragon Corrin smash everyone while Sakura, Azura, and Kaze provide support. Ryoma attempts to take on the ghost man, but is defeated. Then Corrin fucking stomps his translucent ass and saves the day.

Corrin continues rampaging and Azura begins singing LITAA. Her necklace, the one from the title screen, starts glowing. Ryoma runs in to protect Azura, but Azura blasts him away with a pillar of water, which is a thing that she can do apparently.

Dragon Corrin freaks out at the music and slashes Azura across the chest. Azura keeps singing and Corrin attempts to strangle her to death. Azura tells Corrin, Kill me if you want, but do it as yourself, which is a fantastic line that shakes Corrin out of her madness.

Corrin turns back into a human and has a flashback of Garon’s murdering Sumeragi and kidnapping her. Garon says You are my child now and grabs baby Corrin, which is so creepy its comical.

Corrin apologizes to Azura, saying she’s disgusted with herself. Ryoma explains that both royal families have dragon blood, the Nohrians from the Dusk Dragon and the Hoshidans from the Dawn Dragon. Corrin looks out over the destroyed town, a town full of innocent people destroyed by Nohr.

Ryoma points out that, because Garon gave Corrin an evil bomb sword, everything must have been his plan. Cool plan, by the way. Let’s see if I have it straight:

1: Give Corrin a bomb sword.

2: Have her commit an act of war.

3: Have Hans try to murder Corrin.

4: Hope he fails.

5: Hope the Hoshidans bring Corrin to their Queen, instead of imprisoning her for being an enemy soldier.

6: Have ghost soldiers invade Hoshido and take the sword from Corrin.

6: Cursed sword explodes, killing Mikoto and destroying her mind control barrier.

I mean, sure, there are probably simpler ways to kill Mikoto, ways that don’t involve praying that Hans fucks up and fails to kill Corrin. Garon could have, I don’t know, had the ghost soldiers kill Mikoto. Maybe their existence is tied to Ganglari, but that’s never actually stated, and the fact that they stick around and kill people after Ganglari explodes makes that questionable.

You know how, at the end of Naruto, Kishimoto had the villains reveal that they were behind every bad thing that happened in the series, and how it didn’t make sense and was dumb and convoluted? I’m getting Naruto vibes from this chapter.

Takumi blames Corrin for Mikoto’s death. And I mean, he has a point. Corrin’s the one who brought the clearly cursed sword her war criminal father gave her with her. Azura tells Takumi that it’s fine if he doesn’t trust her, but it's wrong for him to distrust Corrin, because Corrin is his blood. And that’s fucking stupid. Fire Emblem is filled with characters with evil relatives. Soren, Guinivere, Edelgard, Robin, the list goes on. Shit, there are evil blood relatives within this game.

Corrin suggests leaving and Yukimura tells her that Mikoto wouldn’t have wanted that and that Mikoyo knew she would die soon. He also mentions that there may be darker forces than Garon at work. Yukimura also points us towards a statue destroyed in the blast, a statue containing Yato, a diving golden sword that is said to be the key to peace. Yato flies up and over to Corrin.

Kaze runs in and reports a massive Nohrian force assembles at the border and the family marches off to war, with Ryoma declaring that he will not show any mercy. Corrin decides to follow Ryoma, in hopes of stopping the war. Azura tells Corrin to calm down, because getting into a fight could cause her to lose control and turn into a dragon again. Spoiler alert, this is literally the only chapter where Corrin loses control, because screw interesting characterization.

Azura gives Corrin her necklace, which turns out to be a dragonstone. Dragonstones and manaketes, people who can turn into dragons, are not new to Fire Emblem. Manaketes are normally uncomfortably young girls. Corrin is the first and currently the only manakete main lord. What’s more, Corrin is unique in their ability to wield both swords and dragonstones. It fits with the duality motif.

The necklace allows Corrin to control her dragon form, which is a bit of a disappointment. Corrin losing control and destroying stuff in this animalistic rage was really interesting characterization that is never seen after this chapter.

Azura decides to follow Corrin, because Corrin makes her feel safe. Apparently.

This chapter was really, really, good. Mikoto’s death was heartbreaking and Corrin going apeshit was some really strong character work. I forgot how absolutely terrifying Corrin’s transformation scene is. That said, this chapter hammers the final nail in the coffin for this story being morally grey. There is absolutely no reason to side with Nohr after this chapter, except for loyalty to the Nohrian royals.

At the start of the next chapter, we’ll choose our side in this war. And, not to tip my hand, but I don’t exactly think it’ll be a hard choice.

[atypicalsenerio]

How do you repay someone who's given everything you've ever asked for, with or without your knowing?

Ike's not even half as smart as Soren. He knows this. All this while, he's relied on him for many things; his objectiveness, his tactical analysis, and has always, always counted on him to have a clear mind when he could not.

But Soren-- Soren is also a living, breathing person, and that makes him much more than that. The icy mage can get distracted, shows irritation, huffs (but he knows he's satisfied, perhaps even happy) and veils himself behind a wall of words that say everything about him and also nothing to those who don't quite know him. Soren tries-- very, very much.

The grains of time had piled up like a mountain, each a glimmering gold. Soren had given all of that to him, since day one. He'd not noticed, because he was silly. He'd noticed, but knew that any he could pay back was but a dim silver.

And then, he'd not paid back at all, and the grains had continued to trickle still.

Fingers run across the portrait that he'd been gifted. A memory of the past, a rallying cry.

But to him, wouldn't need something like this. Unlike Ike, who forgets, who blunders.

Because-- all this while, Soren has forged his own path, looking onward. Whatever that drives him had always been ahead of him, so a token of the past wouldn't be as meaningful.

The night passes. The day breaks.

A knock comes to the mage's door. Ike invites himself in, greets Soren with a warm smile and a nod.

"Happy birthday."

"I thought that this one out of the rest would be the most meaningful for you. I wish I could think of more, but-- here."

“My memory’s not as good as yours, but this is as close as I can remember.”

The crinkling of oil paper reveals a simple meal. It's nothing special-- slices of bread and lettuce and bacon. The taste wouldn't be the same; he's not his mother, and neither does he know well enough the taste of homecooked lunch. The best mimicry he can make of it is in its shoddy craftsmanship.

But it's as much as he can make.

"... And, I also thought about what I should do for next time."

A faint rustling, and fingers unfurl to reveal a band impressed with a seal, strung up with a line of rope.

“The signet rings gave me an idea. These are meant to be heated and pressed into rock, and they’ll leave stamp marks. So if you see this on a tree or a rock, you’ll know that I’ve been along the way. And—”

A faint tinkle, and Soren should feel cool metal land in his own palm.

“Here. There’s one for you, too. So it won’t be just you who’s looking the next time.”

He spends the rest of the time there he has with Soren, as long as the lamps allow. Eventually, they have to say goodbye to each other, and Ike waves goodbye, knowing that they'll see each other the next day.

The door creaks shut.

...

There’s also another reason for them. Ike presses his fist shut around the ring, feeling as if it would deform under his grip. It’s but an illusion of flesh, but held so tight, the ring feels like it gains warmth of its own.

Perhaps it truly does, for when Ike releases, letting the string catch on his finger, it turns, twirling like a pendulum, swinging one way and the other.

He holds it out. The swinging doesn’t stop, not for a long time. Ike catches it, and its head faces south—towards the door he’d come from.

It could just be his imagination.

But also; whilst in Castle Nados, there was some evidence left. There wasn’t enough to make good for a teleport, as much as Ike would have loved to, but with what he had, he’d put it in the rings.

It was mostly sentimental value. There shouldn’t be any effect with this little, but even if he couldn’t feel the reputed pull that the powder brings towards linking two points in space, perhaps the metal could.

Perhaps. It’s a little edge more, one more tiny patch for a gaping hole. A trinket at best.

But it's transcended it's purpose in the past, and taken on a new one for the future.

The ring lands in his palm, twinkling like an eye.

Ike still can't find an true answer to the question-- not now, and not still. He's not smart enough for something that slices down to the bone.

That was always more Soren's thing. He just barged in like a brute, and did what he thought worked best.

Perhaps that's his answer, this time. Because it's in the present, which ticks by like a leaky sieve.

If you can’t cut the truth in two; warming it up little by little--

Ike supposes-- Maybe, that’s fine, too.

All day long, there had been one person Soren wanted to see most on his birthday. They were close enough that Soren wouldn’t have minded if Ike was busy, they spent so many of their days together. It was with a softened smile that he welcomed Ike to his room, other gifts on his bed.

“Ike. Thank you. It has been. I wonder who let the date slip to everyone else. I have to admit I’m surprised by it.” This amount of casual attention, perhaps bordering on affection from others, people who mostly barely knew him, was too much to pass off as just flattery from someone trying to get their way or a favor returned to him. Being a part of a community and seeing it manifest in the smallest of ways in notes and trinkets had touched him in a way he hadn’t expected, nor voice directly to anyone else.

Ike, however, was the highlight of his day. Even empty handed, he would be. When all else faded, when it was no longer his birthday, he would still have Ike.

Perhaps the events of the day had him feeling especially sentimental. Soren took the offered sandwich, looking up at Ike. “This is how your mother used to make your lunch, isn’t it? It’s simple, but it really is my favorite meal. Perhaps your love of bacon is contagious,” he teased, voice gentle. “I might have a plain palette, but I wouldn’t change a thing about it. Funny, how the mind works,” he said fondly, taking a bite. There was nothing inherently special about the bread, lettuce, or bacon, but the memory attached made it all crisper, sweeter.

He set the sandwich down and turned his attention to the ring in Ike’s hand, watching it lower into his own palm. His heart skipped a beat at the association, foolishly, of rings and someone he cared for. (Who was the dense one here, anyway? Was it in fact, Soren? He was giving Ike’s history of being oblivious a real run for its money if he was…) Soren swallowed, a slight blush on his face as Ike explained. Hopefully, there would be no next time they were separated, but if there was—

“That’s brilliant. You’re brilliant. Thank you, Ike. I’ll guard mine well.” He slipped the ring on his finger to admire it, and felt the cord it was attached to. He raised his head, and he took a step forward.

A rush of affection carried him the rest of the short distance to Ike. Soren couldn’t remember initiating a hug before, but he did it before he could think, taking advantage of the chance to hide his warm face against Ike’s chest and cling to him in a display he didn’t want to hold back from anymore.

Every admittance and display of his flaws over the years, every conversation that had been a burst of what had always eaten away at him, the grounds for which anyone else would reject him, every part of himself or his background that had made him feel alone and unlovable— every syllable had been like asking Ike, ‘Are you sure you want me? Are you sure I’m worthy of being your friend? Are you sure, are you sure, are you sure?’ And every gesture, every answer from Ike had always been a confident, steady, ‘Yes’, as though Soren had never needed to ask at all, had never needed to fear his own vulnerable spots.

Soren squeezed Ike’s body in his smaller arms for a moment, hoping he was doing this whole hug thing right, overwhelmed and happier than he knew what to do with, for once overflowing with something other than painful memories and a silhouette that used to feel more shaped by old wounds and recurring rejection than his own lived life. “Thank you, Ike. For being here.” For being you, the only way you know how, so natural to you you don’t see how exceptional you are.

“I think I’d like to keep celebrating birthdays from now on.”

[se-housman]

Chapter 99 is up now, and it’s time to start saying goodbye. Only one chapter left! 

In this chapter: Soren and Pelleas talk about succession. Soren hangs out with his friends. Ike has another panic attack. Soren and Ike make out in a closet. Soren gets hugged by his mom in front of everyone. Soren gets hugged by everyone. Ike and Mist make an announcement. It has been a long day. 

Wattpad | Ao3 | Quotev | MediaMiner

Let’s be honest, Soren hates the whole concept of nobles. He would never want to be a king. Excerpt:

“I heard you’re abdicating your throne,” he said when he found Pelleas. He crossed his arms. “Why?”

Despite Soren’s accusing tone, the young man’s eyes lit up as if pleasantly surprised. “Soren, you’re here! This is actually perfect timing. I was hoping to talk with you before we left. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Soren was more than a little annoyed by this response. “Fine.”

Pelleas led him away from the other Daein soldiers whose names Soren hardly remembered. They all seemed busy telling jokes around the fireplace, and Soren doubted they’d heard his accusation because no one had reacted when he’d made it.

“What you say is correct,” Pelleas began when they were safely in the corridor. “But there are few with whom I’ve shared my intentions. Was it Micaiah or Almedha who told you?”

“Almedha.”

“Then, you really are the one?” Pelleas asked with a touch of excitement.

Soren recalled what Kurthnaga had said about it being Pelleas who’d figured out his parentage in the first place. He supposed he owed him his gratitude, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually feel grateful. “Yes,” he answered, “If by ‘one’ you mean the offspring of that crazy woman and an even crazier king.”

Pelleas winced. “She is not that bad, really… She means well.”

“That is beside the point.” Soren returned to the topic at hand. “I want to know why you are giving up your position in Daein. Now is not exactly a good time for a power vacuum.”

Pelleas shook his head. “And I don’t mean to cause one! I am simply not the right person to lead. It is your birthright, not mine. If you wish it, I will vouch for you in an instant and support your ascension. I have stolen your identity for far too long. I will do what I can to return it.”

Soren had feared this would be the case, and now he felt even greater annoyance at Pelleas than he had Kurthnaga. “I do not want it.”

Pelleas looked confused. “But the Daein people would want their true king on the throne, not an imposter.”

Soren wondered if he was actually this naïve. “There’s no such thing as a ‘true king’,” he growled, “You’re as qualified as anyone. You’ve actually fought for your people. I’ve only ever fought against them.”

Pelleas frowned as if this fact disturbed him. “True…I cannot promise you would be immediately popular. King Ashnard was not particularly beloved in his final year either…”

Soren released a bark of laughter. “Beloved? He abandoned his nation to an invading army!”

“That is true,” Pelleas conceded. He then took a steadying breath. “If you refuse my offer, you should know I still intend to reveal my lack of royal heritage and abdicate. If not you, I would like Micaiah to take my place on the throne. She is already beloved by the people, and I know she will achieve more than I ever could… I hope you will agree with my judgement on this.”

Soren did, so he nodded. “Fine, as long as it’s not me.”

[hazel-writes]

Summary: While recovering from the events that took place on Dantooine, you learn more about Finn and Takoda's complicated pasts.

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence and childhood trauma

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It will take a while

To make you smile

Somewhere in these eyes

I'm on your side

• Space Song - Beach House •

It had been three days since your mission to Dantooine, and you still hadn’t wrapped your head around what had happened there.

Rilea kept asking you if you were alright, and you always responded with an enthusiastic yes. Any other response prompted a long, worried conversation about stress following traumatic encounters, followed by a rant on the violence perpetrated by patriarchal societies. She wasn’t wrong, but you just didn’t feel like talking about it.

Akilah kept asking you how you escaped. You could tell she didn’t buy your story — and she knew that you knew that — but wanted to make you admit it anyways. How she knew this still remained a mystery, one you couldn’t solve unless you revealed something about yourself that you were determined to keep a secret.

Soren was quiet, as usual, but instead of shooting you his typical iconic glare, he had been avoiding your eye contact completely.

Koda, on the other hand, was furious. For some reason, he felt guilty for what happened, despite the fact that he was miles away at the time. You told him over and over that it was not and could not be his fault, but you could tell that your words were not enough to appease his guilt.

Based on Koda’s reaction, you felt as if you should be more angry about what happened, but you understood why the men had attacked you. Years of pent up anger, frustration, and loss, mixed with the alcohol they had most likely consumed earlier, had combined to incite the unfortunate turn of events. You had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No, I should be more mad, you shamed yourself. They attacked me. Hit me. Kicked me. Watched as I gave up.

A knock sounded on your door. You already knew who it was. Ever since Finn found out about what happened on Dantooine, he had started showing up everywhere you were: inside the cafeteria, throughout the hallways, and now, outside of your room.

You sighed, making your way to the door. You opened it, and just as expected, found Finn there, helmet in hand, smirking at you with a sheepish grin.

“Finn…” you drew out his name, as if patronizing a small child. He looked back at you with apologetic, yet pleading, eyes. “I already told you, I’m fine.”

“I know what you told me,” he said, stubbornly.

Darn his freaky emotional intelligence.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, since you are already here, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

He nodded enthusiastically, eager at the opportunity to help out. “Yeah, of course. Anything.”

You ushered him into your room, closing the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, you continued, knowing he wouldn’t like what was coming next.

“What’s goin’ on between you and Takoda? It’s just… you both are so sweet and it’s weird to see you guys act so distant around each other.”

He smirked. “Well, first of all, we’re sweet around you — I am still a trooper, remember, so I can’t be this charming all the time.”

“Right,” you said, cheeks reddening slightly as you rolled your eyes. “But why the lack of charm around Koda?”

He sighed heavily, avoiding eye contact. “Koda and I… We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“Such as…” you inquired further.

“Such as the trooper program.”

That didn’t make any sense to you; Takoda had never spoken about the program before.

“Why would Koda be interested in the trooper program?”

The room was silent.

“Because he was one.”

“Koda was a trooper??!” You couldn’t picture it. As hard as you tried, you just couldn’t. He was too silly, too full of life. But the same was true for Finn, and he was a trooper too…

“Yup,” he replied, somber. “We were in the same fleet too. We always had each other's backs.”

You thought for a second, processing the new information. “So what changed?”

He hesitated, looking down at his feet. You’d never seen him look this sad before, and it made your own heart feel heavy.

“A couple years into his program, Koda got injured.”

“Injured — how?”

“We were on a planet with a heavy rebel presence. Our orders were to… eliminate a village that housed supposed Resistance sympathizers. We went in with grenades,” he paused, choking on his words. You looked up at him, reaching out and grabbing his hand, supportively. He nodded appreciatively and continued. “At one point, a trooper next to me threw one. It landed by a little girl, maybe nine years old. Koda jumped forward — pushed her out of the way. He ended up catching most of the blow. I can’t honestly say that I would’ve had the courage to do the same. I hid my grenades in a nearby bush and ran over to him; he was hurt badly. So the med guys took him, and he was airlifted outta there.”

You squeezed his hand, gently urging him to continue. “What happened next?”

“I visited him in the hospital a few days later. He told me he’d been ‘medically discharged’ and was free to go wherever he wished… I was so happy for him. Not many stormtroopers get that kinda opportunity to start over, live their own life. Many injure themselves on purpose to get discharged, but usually they’re too obvious about it and end up executed on the grounds of ‘treason’.”

You shook your head in shock. “Stars…”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “So I asked Koda what he wanted to do, where he wanted to go… I mean, the possibilities were endless for him! But he surprised me. He told me he wanted to stay with the Order, try to make it 'better'. I couldn’t believe it — especially given his background.”

“What do you mean, his background?” you questioned.

“Koda hasn’t told you?” he said, eyes widening.

“Told me what?”

“Kriff…” he mumbled. “I think that’s something you should discuss with him .”

“Yeah, okay...” You paused, thinking. You were still confused about one thing.

“So Koda refused to leave the Order, and you and him just… stopped talking?”

He sighed, his hand leaving your grasp to run through his hair. He seemed frustrated, not at you, but at the newly-unearthed memories of his past.

“It’s not as simple as that. Koda had a choice. He had a choice to join the trooper program, and a choice to leave it. I never had a choice. I was forced into it. It was either this, or death.” He paused, sighing, before lowering his voice. “Had I known what it would be like here, as a trooper, I would’ve chosen death.”

Hearing that tore your heart in two. “Finn, please, don’t say that.”

He threw up his hands. “It’s true! Being forced to tear apart planets, villages, houses, families, people… It’s horrible. Sickening.” He paused. “I- I had almost given up hope completely, when all of a sudden you came into the picture.”

You gave him a sad, appreciative smile.

“Anyways, he had a choice to leave this life, and he said no. I’ve never had a choice, but if I did, I would be out of this place in a second. That’s why we don’t talk anymore.”

“I see.” You paused. “Finn, I-”

Words couldn’t describe how incredibly sad you felt that such a strong, empathetic man like Finn had been forced to endure so much pain.

You reached out and pulled him into the biggest hug you could manage. Your eyes prickled with tears. “I’m so sorry Finn, I’m so, so sorry,” you whispered over and over into his ear.

After a few minutes like that, you finally pulled away to see Finn smiling warmly at you. How could he still do that — smile — after everything he’d gone through?

“Hey, I just thought of one good thing that came out of me staying in this stupid trooper program.”

“What?” you asked, genuinely interested.

There was that sheepish smile again. “Well, if I left, I never would’ve met you.”

You didn’t deserve a friend like Finn.

“And I would’ve never met you…”

You grabbed his hands in yours and held them to your forehead. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply. It was your turn to worry.

“I wish there was more I could do for you,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “You’ve already done so much.”

“Not enough,” you replied.

He sighed, bringing both your hands back down to your lap.

“Listen, there’s something about you — I don’t know what — that gives me hope, and I don’t use that word lightly. I felt it from the first, or should I say the second, time I met you.” He laughed, his eyes brightening. “If anyone can change the way things are in the galaxy right now, it’s you.”

You looked at him, wondering where this blind trust was coming from. He had only known you for a short amount of time… You finally understood why the Commander was so surprised by your own blind trust in his orders.

“I should get back,” he said, standing up. “But please, try to remember what I said.”

After giving you one last hug, he put on his helmet and made his way out of your quarters, leaving you to your thoughts.

——————————————

You spent the next few hours reflecting on your conversation with Finn. You found yourself desperately wanting to find out more about Koda’s enigmatic background.

After pacing back and forth across your room a couple hundred times, your curiosity finally got the best of you.

I have to go talk to Koda. I need to find out what he has been keeping from me.

You found him sitting in the artist workspace, alone.

He didn’t seem to see you at first, so you cleared your throat, announcing your presence.

His head jerked up, startled. His brown hair was a bit more disheveled than usual, and his hair fell over his face slightly.

You smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, I was just spaced out for a sec,” he smirked. “I’m back now.”

A moment passed before his features became more serious. “How are you feeling?”

This was the first time you’d really talked about what happened on Dantooine with Koda. Most of what he knew was from Rilea’s retellings.

You shrugged. “Fine, considering. It could’ve been worse.”

He looked down, wringing his hands uncomfortably. “Why wasn’t it… worse? How did you end up getting away?”

You couldn’t tell him what really happened — it’s not like he would believe you if you did. You settled for a half-truth instead.

“I managed to kick one of the guys who jumped me and while he was distracted, I made a run for it. That’s when you guys found me in the field.”

He shook his head, still looking at his hands. “Kriff… I’m sorry. We should’ve never split up.”

“No, no, don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. I just seem to be a magnet for trouble,” you chuckled, trying to bring up the mood.

He nodded, unconvincingly. “So what brings you here? Shouldn’t you be in a hospital bed or something?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, they won’t miss me,” you smirked, earning an eye roll from Koda. “I actually came here because I wanted to ask you about something.”

He squinted in your direction. “Uh oh, you have serious voice on.”

You laughed before continuing, “I just wanted to ask you about Finn.”

“Ahh…” he said, as if he knew this conversation was coming.

“I already talked with him today, so now it’s your turn to endure the wrath of my nosiness.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, letting out an audible sigh before rolling his shoulders and assuming a more comfortable position. “What do you want to know?”

You continued hesitantly, not wanting to offend Koda or worsen the tension between him and Finn. “Well, we talked about why you two don’t get along and how you chose to stay with the Order after you were discharged from your trooper duties. Finn mentioned — and please, don’t get upset that he told me — he was surprised by your decision… especially considering your background. What exactly did he mean by this?”

Takoda paused, looking at you as if considering something. Finally, leaning towards you slightly, he continued. “What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room, alright? People onboard wouldn’t think too kindly of me if they knew.”

You nodded. “Of course, Koda, I would never do something like that — never.”

His hazel eyes met yours as he spoke in a low, serious voice. “I wasn’t born First Order. I was born Resistance.”

He looked up at you, attempting to gauge your reaction. When you didn’t look angry or disgusted, he continued.

“I was pretty independent from a young age. My parents were never home. They were always working on something Resistance-related. They were pretty much consumed by their work. One year they even forgot my birthday,” he huffed, looking to his feet. “When they hadn’t come home by dinnertime, I left the house. I walked for hours before I came to a small village. A group of off-duty stormtroopers walked by, chatting about their latest mission, and I approached them.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“At that moment, all I wanted was to be a part of something. A team. A community of people that truly had my back. I couldn’t join the Resistance, not after what it had turned my parents into. So I asked the stormtroopers, begged them, to let me join them. FN-2187, or Finn, as you call him, was there. He was against it. The others that were with him, however, were all for it. So just like that, I went with them.”

You were surprised. “So the Order just let a random kid into their program?”

“Pretty much. At the time they were desperate. Less and less people wanted to be a part of the trooper program. They took anyone they could get. So, I signed up, trained, and fought as a stormtrooper. Finn took me under his wing. Kept me outta trouble.” He paused, his eyes downcast. “He was like the only true family I ever had. Then I got injured, Finn got mad when I decided to stay, and they transferred me here, to this job.” He looked up at the ceiling, releasing a dry chuckle. “Funny thing is, I found out years later that my parents had missed my birthday, their own son’s birthday, to attend some random Resistance diplomat’s birthday party instead. Talk about the ‘Parent of the Year’ award…”

You were starting to appreciate your family on Lothal more and more. They weren't perfect, but they had never forgotten your birthday.

“Listen, I know I can’t change how they treated you, but please believe me when I tell you that they are missing out. Big time.” You smiled at him. “You have the biggest heart. They don’t deserve you. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but Finn truly did, and does, want the best for you. He cares about you so much, but is too stubborn to admit it, just like another certain someone I know.” Koda rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not saying you should forgive him right away… I just think that second chances are important, and are something that Finn has hardly ever been offered in his life.”

Koda sighed dramatically before speaking again. “Fine, maybe someday, in the very, very, very distant future, I will consider talking to Finn.”

You smiled, satisfied. “Good.”

“But only so you will stop bugging me about, like I know you will.”

You smirked. “Hey, I’ll take what I can get.”

He shook his head, looking at you incredulously. “You know, you’re pretty good at the whole active listening while subtly brainwashing thing. It’s annoying.”

You smirked. “I have lots of experience.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do… So, is my interrogation over?”

“I suppose it is… for today at least.” You looked at the papers laying on the table next to Koda. “What were you up to?”

“Oh,” he started, looking a bit flustered. “I was just trying to sketch something up.”

A twinge of anxiety hit you. “What? I didn’t know we had a new assignment already!”

“No, no, it’s not for a new assignment,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s for Rilea.”

“Rilea…” You smirked, knowingly. “I knew something was going on there.”

The look of panic on Koda’s face was almost comical. “What? No! Nothing is going on! The going is off. A hundred percent off.”

“Wow, consider me convinced,” you replied sarcastically.

He shook his head emphatically. “I swear, we’re just friends… not even that! We’re basically enemies.”

You smiled devilishly. “Alright, I’ll be sure to let her know the next time I see her.”

The panicked look on his face turned to one of pure terror. “No! Please! Ugh. Just- just don’t say anything alright?”

“Whatever you say, Koda,” you said, once again smiling in victory. “Anyways, I’ll let you get back to your project.”

You walked back towards the door, stopping briefly before you exited.

“And Koda?” You turned to face him. “Thank you.”

He looked back at you, confused. “For what?”

“For not giving up.”

And with that you made your way out of the workspace and back to your quarters.

———————————————————

Upon arriving in your room, you headed straight to the bed, face-planting into the pillows. You sighed loudly before turning onto your back, casually scanning your eyes over the space. Something on the floor next to the door caught your eye: a white slip of folded paper.

You stood up, making your way over to the mystery letter. The word artist was written on the front. Opening it up, you found it simply read:

Meet me in room E23 tomorrow night at 8. This is not a request.

Commander Ren

You chuckled. Of course he had to add the ‘this is not a request’ bit.

Alarm bells soon began sounding in your head. You wondered what this meeting was about: Were you in trouble? Was this about your Force abilities? Were you being led into a trap?

But there that strange feeling was again: trust.

For some strange reason, you trusted that the Commander wouldn’t hurt you. After all, he’d proven as much over the last few days, after saving you from Hux and the men on Dantooine.

You thought back onto your conversation with Finn, remembering how he told you about the way he was forced into the trooper program. It shocked you that some troopers had attempted to injure themselves to get discharged from their duties. You recalled how Finn, himself, said he would have rather died than have accepted his position with the First Order…

If that’s the way these seemingly robotic and unempathetic troopers truly felt, then what was to say that the Commander was any different?

You had seen him in battle — you had found footage on your data pad. He was fueled by emotion; each strike of his fiery crossguard blade exploded with passion.

Though this raw emotion scared most, it enticed you — it gave you hope.

An excess of emotion was always better than a lack of it.

Maybe the Commander was forced into his role, just like Finn was. Maybe he had no choice but to join the Order. Maybe that’s why he wore his mask: to distance himself from his true feelings, from his inner conflict.

Of course, you knew more than anyone…

Things aren’t always as they seem.

——————————————————

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