#he sees his duty as a penance and will try to protect the people of insomnia until the king of kings has fulfilled his duty in its entirety

[ship-garbage-pile]

very old comic of Noctis meeting my Kingsglaive OC Sagitta

[quirkwizard]

Sir Wizard! I come bearing a question—we know you've mentioned villain types and things that could have been explored, etc with Mr Compress and potential arcs in the manga. What hero motives would you have liked to see more of? Whether in students or pro heroes.

Unlike the last one, this one is going to be more general ideas that could motivate people to be heroes rather the specific examples I talked about with flaws in hero society.

-Violence: As much as I dislike the idea, it is entirely possible for this to be the reason why someone is a hero. With how easy it is to become a hero, there is bound to be someone being a hero just to hurt others for one reason or another. Obviously, a hero like this would not last long, but it would be an interesting idea to explore in a villain or vigilante character that used to be a hero. Maybe even have a redemption arc where they learn to be less violent.

-Redemption: While I’ve decried the idea of villains being allowed to become heroes, there could be some potential in the premise. Not a full villain, but someone with a bad past trying to be better, similar to the mistake Double when he lost his job. They feel bad about their past and want to be a hero to find some penance. That someone in this culture is trying to reform and be better struggling with the stigma of their past could be a interesting story.

-Social Stepping Stone: Considering how popular heroes are, it wouldn't surprise me if someone were to be one as a social move to garner positive attention. There could be someone who wants to sell a certain product they made and becomes a hero to help endorse it. It could be a political move, similar to being an officer in Japan, where being a hero can open certain doors that would help the user achieve some position later in life.

-Ideology: This is similar to the last one, but with a different direction. Instead of getting something for themselves, a character could want to be a hero out of a desire to spread a message. They want to use it as a platform in order to share a certain perspective or mindset with the population. We know that the MLA had some turncoats within the hero ranks. You could have someone trying to be a hero in order to subtly spread that mindset to people.

-Power Expectations: This is a combination of Shinso and Bakugou's backstories. A kid would be born with an exceptional power that would be perfect for hero work. Everyone tells them how great they would be as a hero, so they feel compelled to be a hero. Then their story could be them figuring out whether they want to be a hero or not. It could be a neat way to explore how that kind of pressure can influence people, but in a different way than Shinso or Bakugou.

-Different Inspiration: While heroics are the main cornerstone of a lot of the character's actions, it could be neat to heroic origins outside of the usual heroes that we see. There could be people that want to be heroes, but have different reasons or methods to their heroics. You could have a character who takes after knights and the idea of chivalry, wanting to protect the weak. There could be a solider who sees being a hero as an honor and a duty to their country.

-Self Fulfillment: With how tied Quirks are to people’s self image, I could see someone trying to be a hero out of a desire to grow. Similar to characters like Goku or Zoro, this person would want to improve themselves and become the best version of themselves. They could see that hero work is the best way to do it, constantly challenging them and their Quirk to new heights with every fight they enter, but in a way that doesn’t brand them as a villain.

-Familial Obligation: Considering characters like Iida and Shoto introduced us to the idea of hero lineages, it would be neat to see different sides to that kind of dynamic. Maybe their parent was a famous crime fighter, but their Quirk is more suited to rescue work. They want to be like their parent, but being in the positions cripples their ability to function as a hero. Maybe their hero parent fell off after a scandal. The character would want that hero's name to be remembered as a hero and not a fraud.

[linkspooky]

Kamo and Megumi is the same... 

I’ve always read the Kyoto vs Tokyo arc as a breakdown of communication.The Kyoto kids want understanding, but  due to everyone being teenagers the Kyoto Kids cannot explain and the Tokyo Kids cannot understand. One of the stand out moments is when Kamo insists they are the same, and Megumi just says no. 

They are both dark haired, quiet, introverts. They were both born outsiders. Toji and Kamo’s mother the prostitute. People that the clan looked down on. However, the clan will take in their children because they were born with a strong cursed technique. They’re both strategists, who act like they’re logical, but tend to be swayed by emotions instead. They’re both trying to protect someone, Megumi his sister, and Kamo his mother and both only became jujutsu sorcerers to protect these people. 

But yeah, they’re totally not the same at all... More under the cut. 

So, why does Megumi reject Kamo so utterly? 

Well, on the surface level it’s simply because Kamo is wrong.

To explain complicated morality a bit. 

Killing one child, even if it’s to protect the peace of everybody else is ethically wrong. 

However, the position Kamo is trying to explain to Megumi is utilitarian. He’s saying, the best way to handle this situation is to do what’s best for everybody, kill one person out of a hundred to save ninety nine. 

He then also adds that, because they’re both heirs to political families they are pressured to think that way. Kamo is thinking in a utilitarian sense, because, he’s saying that as a family with major political power they have to make their decisions on the scope of society as a whole. 

So adding onto that,  Kamo is acting like there is a higher order of reasoning. He says they are expected to think in strictly numerical terms like this, they have to be utilitarian, they have to make their decisions without personal bias, because that’s what is expected of them as the future heads of clan. Kamo is also trying to elaborate, he’s not really allowed, to let personal feelings get in the way of his judgement, because from such a young age he’s always been forced to act responsible in every situation. 

So basically.  Kamo is saying. I’m not allowed to do what I think is right because I’m the son of the Kamo clan, I have to do what the clan thinks is right and fall into line with their utilitarian thinking. 

Megumi’s response to this is, I don’t care about that, I decide things based on what I think is right.

So on one level Megumi is right. Kamo is not actually doing what he thinks is right, he’s doing what the clan thinks is right and claiming he has no choice. Megumi is saying “I don’t care about your cicrumstances or what’s pressuring you, I still believe it’s wrong for you to try to kill my friend.” 

He also, is right in calling that most people are just following their own conscience and just trying to do what they think is right. Kamo’s repressed motivation this entire time is, he’s not really thinking of the whole clan, he’s just trying to do right by his mother. Megumi, is trying to save Tsumiki and Yuji, Kamo is trying to save his mother, however they go about it in different ways, Megumi by saving people selfishly, and Kamo by pretending to be the dutiful and loyal son. 

Megumi’s callout works. Both Megumi and Kamo are just doing what they feel is right in this situation. Kamo is the one pretending like he has a higher reasoning. He’s using the clan’s control over him as a way to excuse himself for what he knows is wrong. 

However, on another level Megumi is wrong.

Megumi is saying, you are doing a bad thing. Therefore, you are a bad person and I don’t have to listen to you. 

When it’s really that Kamo is in a bad family situation. It’s true Kamo’s choices are his own, and he can still make bad decisions and held to responsible for them, however, it’s impossible not to look at Kamo’s family situation, because one it influences his decisions so much (the constant flashbacks to his mother, he’s trying to do what will protect his mom), and two because it resembles Megumi’s own family situation so much (Megumi is also, someone who became a Jujutsu Sorcerer to save his sister). 

“We have no choice but to curse each other.” 

In other words. 

“I don’t care to hear what your reasons are, I’m just going to fight you.” 

It’s never a good thing when you’re quoting Geto. 

This is a bad end. This is where the talks break down. The thing is, both Megumi and Kamo are wrong because they are both kids. Yes, Kamo shouldn’t have ever agreed to the order to kill Yuji but at the same time, Kamo never should have been put in that situation. It’s the adults that are making these kids fight, it’s the adults that create the situations where these kids fight. 

Megumi is using a simplified morality here. Megumi unconsciously divies people into good or bad people and judges them based upon that. We’ve seen them do this countless times, he sees the bad people as not worth saving, and then puts the good ones on a pedestal where they can do no wrong. 

His sister is a “good person” therefore she’s always a good person. Yuji is a “good person” therefore no matter what he does he’s always a good person and worth saving. The problem with this sort of black and white morality is that it doesn’t apply to a life that is a very, messy, gray. The thing is, the way Megumi sees the world the only people who ever do bad things are bad people. 

Well, this guy must have been bad because he hit someone while driving without a liscense.

Megumi says while not knowing the circumstances at all.  Maybe he was driving to work without a license because his mom needed the money and he was still in high school and couldn’t get one? Maybe, he actually felt sorry about it. 

The thing is, the guy was arrested, and was already actively serving penance for his crime. And yet, Megumi is like, “Nah he’s not worth saving. I was planning on letting him die.” 

That’s like, an awful thing to think, because crimminals are no longer human and therefore no longer worth saving. That’s how simplified Megumi’s view on morality is, it’s downright childish, once you’ve done a bad thing you’re labeled as bad for life. People can’t improve, or repent or feel sorry for what they’ve done. 

The thing is people do bad things all the time without meaning too, or for understandable reasons, or because they’re people. Megumi’s primary fear is what if the person I save, turns out to be a bad person?

However, that doesn’t come from a place of hating crimminals per se. 

It comes from Megumi’s tenderness, his kindness, his fear of hurting people. Childish is the best way to describe it. Megumi’s primary character trait is that he was abandoned by both parents, he doesn’t really know how to survive in the world but he has to pretend that he does because no one else is there to take care of him. Add onto that the idea that he was sort of forced into becoming a jujutsu sorcerer first by his dad selling him, then by Gojo only intervening on the premise that he come to work for him instead. Second, on the fact that he was completely powerless to stop whatever was happening to Tsumiki. 

It makes perfect sense that Megumi has a really childish morality, he is a child, and it doesn’t come from a place of wanting to punish bad people so much as he’s afraid of other people getting hurt by his actions, and he’s afraid that he might be at fault, that he might be the reason that people like Toji, and Tsumiki left his life. Megumi is so careful with choosing his actions, because he’s so afraid that he’s the reason everyone else around him left him, and if he screws up he’ll lose other people again, or he’ll hurt people. It comes from Megumi genuinely being a soft guy towards almost everyone he meets, just like Yuji. 

The problem is, Kamo is the same.

Kamo is also someone coping really badly with circumstances just like Megumi is. However, when it comes to judge Kamo Megumi just ignores those circumstances. 

The difference between Kamo and Megumi is that one of them is good, or one of them is bad, they’re not better than the other, their fight even got interrupted and ended in a tie. They are both children.

The difference is their circumstances. Basically at this time, Kamo had already been placed as the next head of the Kamo clan, whereas Megumi was still being protected by Gojo. Megumi doesn’t stop to think about how their circumstances might be different, because he doesn’t think of circumstances at all he’s still hung up on good people vs. bad people. 

The reason that Kamo decided to turn against Yuji is that he was being pressured too, he thought he had to choose between doing the thing he thought would help his mother, or saving a random stranger. He made a bad choice, but people make bad choices in bad circumstances. 

The problem with Megumi’s reasoning is that he assumes because he’s deciding things based on his own conscience, that he’ll just somehow be stronger in those circumstances. Megumi assumes that he would still make the right choice, even if put into Kamo’s cricumstances. However, how would Megumi react if he was forced to choose between Yuji and Tsumiki. If he had to decide which one to save? 

Now, Megumi is being pushed into similiar circumstances that Kamo once faced. 

Tsumiki, who Megumi always held up as his gold standard of a good person might do something bad. Geto says he’s going to release all the new cursed energy users he created and make them fight, Tsumiki might hurt someone. 

Yuji, who also was what Megumi decided was a good person also has hurt a lot of people now. 

Yuji and Tsumiki are both victims of circumstance the same way Kamo was once. Yuji never wanted to do anything bad, his only intention the whole way was to save people. Yuji ended up hurting a lot of people in Tokyo. It wasn’t even his fault, but the undeniable reality is it’s still something that happened. 

This is why dividing people into good or bad doesn’t work, good people can still hurt other people, good people make mistakes, good people are capable of doing wrong. 

You could say that Yuji should have always known about the possibility that Sukuna would rampage, but it didn’t occur to him, that one he’d ever be in a situation where Gojo wouldn’t be around to stop him, and two he didn’t think he’d be fed ten or so fingers at once. It’s true Yuji wasn’t acting responsibly as Sukuna’s host, but Yuji is, just a kid. He’s like seventeen. There’s no way he can be held responsible in every single situation. 

If you wanted to be pedantic you could even go back and say that Kamo’s decision was the right one. That Megumi should have killed Yuji all along, because the threat was always there that Yuji might let Sukuna rampage and kill hundreds of people.

However, even that is missing the point. The point being that, Kamo, Yuji and Megumi are all just kids. It’s unreasonable to expect any of them to be well adjusted in these circumstances. By expecting these kids to act like rational adults in situations that most adults couldn’t handle, then blaming the kids for their reactions, all you’re ensuring really is that the kids pay for the adults mistakes. 

Now, Megumi is being put into the exact same position as Kamo. He’s a child, being forced to now act like the heir to the Zen’in clan because Gojo is no longer around to protect him. He’s going to become a piece to be manipulated by the adults around him. 

Megumi probably won’t do very well in this situation, because he’s just a kid. If anything that’s the strength of Jujutsu Kaisen as a manga. Characters don’t ever like heroically overcome circumstances with sheer willpower alone. Yuji isn’t acting heroic like now, he’s horrified by what Sukuna used his body to do, he doesn’t feel like he can go back home right now because his friends wouldn’t accept him anymore, and he would just hurt them. It’s almost etter to see Yuji falter with circumstances instead of heroically overcome them, because now Yuji feels like a real kid. He feels what any kid would feel in that situation, he struggles with it. 

Kamo and Megumi are the same, because they’re just kids. I wish Megumi would see that too, because he might learn to be more forgiving towards himself. It’s not his fault that Toji and Tsumiki left because he wasn’t good enough. 

The strange thing is Yuji thinks that Megumi might blame him for what happened in Tokyo and think he is a bad person now, but Megumi is much more likely to blame himself. He’ll think it was his choice to save Yuji that led to Sukuna rampaging and he has to bear all the respnosibility alone without Yuji. When the truth is it’s neither of their faults, because both Megumi and Yuji are just kids. 

[hisakata-resutomoshibi]

So I got to thinking too deeply about origin stories the other day. I wrote this in a frenzy in one day so cut me some slack you guyss~ lol

(here you go @katzkinder @mrskeletondarkness )

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four days since my last confession." He murmured, eyes fixed on the green velvet drapery only half discernible in the dim lighting filling the claustrophobic confessional box. "I once more lost my temper. It was just a small child but he was lingering in the outer hall and I knew him well. He is Alexander and on kitchen duty this week."

"And what did you do?" The soft voice from beyond the altar asked.

"I lashed out. I do believe he may have cried." There was no response to this but a lingering sigh and he grimaced. "There are more, of course. I was prideful of my position and my duty to oversee the facility in the absence of Father Antonio. I have overslept once and missed the Holy Hour."

"Unbecoming of a deacon."

He bit his lip, fingers curling tightly into his palms. "Yes, Father."

"This is something that I seem to see a pattern of." The voice had grown lighter and almost joking. "Are you perhaps not a morning person?"

"Not at all." He muttered sourly.

"See that that be something you work on."

"Yes, Father." He began sifting through the recent memories for something more inconsequential, struggling to see past the irritation he felt at the call out and finally settled on the most interesting. "I witnessed a marriage the other day. They seemed quite happy."

"And the sin?" The voice lilted up in amusement.

"I took the top most layer of the wedding cake."

There was a desperately concealed snort and then a clearing of the throat and he did his best to hold back a smile. "I think that is enough, don't you? Is it not time for your infirmary rounds?"

"Yes, Father. Ah- this is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all my sins.” He intoned dutifully, making to stand and dust the loose crushed velvet from his robes.

"For penance you will help the boy Alexander in the kitchens when you have completed your other duties." A pause and then, "And no bread at dinner for the week."

Scowling unseen in the dark, he nodded. "Yes, Father."

"Your Act of Contrition."

Taking a deep breath, he settled back onto the stiff wooden bench and let his mind drift as the familiar words flooded forth. "My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart, in choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned-"

The infirmary that he chose most to visit lay at the edges of the city and he often found himself wondering if it was the walk through the crowded, busy streets, or the lack of elderly patients at that particular institute that he liked about it. It was difficult to say really and bore no real worth in contemplating beyond relishing in the somewhat fresh air that blew in from the smaller subdivisions and off the ever renewing water of the fountains so recently restored.

"You're here again." 

Her voice was gentle and welcoming, clearly biased in her delight at the sight of him, and he struggled to hold back a smile.

"Of course. It is an almost daily occurrence."

"That it is." She smiled, ushering him in and down the hall. "I'm afraid most are sleeping at the moment and not much in need of such a friendly face."

"Then I shall do the rounds with you."

She once more smiled brightly and nodded, turning to gather her jacket. "Please do!"

Their conversations were always varied and pleasant, and he found her to be a relaxing presence; all at once joyful and demure, and yet suggestively combative and interesting. It was of course, he mused somewhat guiltily, a plus when the sun hit her endless golden hair and flashed, star bright, against the darker colors of her dress.

It was something that he was always mocked for. But then, he decided, watching her laugh cheerfully with one of her patients, worth it. 

"They say there was a werewolf spotted not far from here!" Matteo exclaimed, dropping his plate down on the table. It clattered and threatened to spill and he chuckled self consciously.

"Do not be an idiot." He murmured testily, pulling his own plate farther away to protect it from the splattering of gravy off Matteo's. "They will say anything to keep a head up in notoriety."

"You're always so dour and pragmatic!"

"I am not, I am merely-"

"Yeah, yeah! A deacon of the church, bent on becoming pope." Matteo laughed, stabbing his spoon into the lukewarm potatoes they were being served. 

Blowing out a harsh breath, he glared over at his friend. "Don't say things like that!"

"Well it's true, isn't it?"

"You once again demonstrate your enormously empty head."

Matteo only laughed once more, and he looked away again, down into the dregs of his cup and wondered if it were possible. Was it something that he could dare to dream of being worthy of? "Superstitious fancy." He muttered, not expecting an answer.

"You know, Faaver Antonehio claims is all twue." Matteo slurred, mouth full of bread. "He says thas why-" He paused and swallowed loudly, earning another glare. "He says that's why the city shuts down after dark. That and vampires." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Folly." He scoffed. "Vampires are no more real than ghosts."

"Then what do you think we're so armed against?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You have demonstrated quite a lack of faith."

He spun around, long gown fanning out and creating a rustling against the stone flooring in the otherwise total hush of the hall. "Father!"

"Calm down." Antonio chuckled. "I do not mean in your studies, but in your disbelief in what I'm sure you have been hearing murmurs of in the streets."

Wracking his brain, he could only come up with one common theme, and he struggled to keep his mouth from dropping open. "Do you mean the vampires and werewolves?"

"Exactly that." Glancing up and down the hall, Antonio stepped closer, his candle threatening to go out in the sudden rush of air between them as he approached. "For no other reason than your safety, please try to keep in mind that rumors are all based on something."

Without pausing to think that perhaps he was throwing his friend to the dogs, he snorted. "So all that ilk that Matteo spouts is not just nonsense but true?"

"More so than even he seems to ascribe it, yes." Antonio answered. He hesitated and then placed a hand on his shoulder, resting heavy and warm in the chilly hall. "You have duties in the morning so try to keep your head, alright? And do not let it affect your sleep. But remember this, you are destined for far more than you see before you now."

The innocuous statement seemed more confusing than reassuring and so he merely nodded. "Yes, Father."

Later, as he lay in bed, staring unflinchingly at the dark cavernous ceiling of his room where the moon, long since risen, was casting shadows into the corners, he couldn't help but picture a large wolf running through the streets and found himself hard pressed not to laugh. What a bunch of ridiculous lies. It was all just childish dreams and jokes blown out of proportion by the uneducated masses. And though it may very well be his duty to love and protect those very people, that did not mean he had to fall prey to their hysteria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was best to focus on the news he had received. Best to not look at the telltale red that was occasionally splattered across his pillows and sheets in the morning. No, it would do no good and so he shoved it far back and to the graveyard of his mind. He would not think of it. Instead he would relish in the knowledge that he would seem to not only be progressing to priesthood but to a place in the College.

He had been warned, months ago now, by Father Antonio, that there were changes in the air, but never would he have dared to imagine something like this.

"Handpicked." He murmured, watching his reflection in the water basin. He was looking impossibly paler and thinner, his already sharp jaw now razor like, and his eyes, such a lively green, now clouded. "For life."

It was a melancholy thing to hear of a death, but he could see past that and to it's natural place in the order of life. It was simply the way of things. That was true in the most dire of situations and it was true now. Splashing a hand through the water, he let out a breath of relief when his image faded into the ripples and he stepped away to begin his morning routine.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned." He covered a soft cough with a stomp of his foot on the hardwood. "It has been three days since my last confession and I have fallen prey to pride and fear." There was no immediate response and so he continued. "I have lost not faith but trust, and I fear death."

"There is nothing to fear in death."

"No. But early dea-" He cut himself off, wondering how to parse the emotions that were tying him in knots so frequently now. So much so as to be distracting, leading to forgetfulness, spite, impatience. "I wish penance to renew my trust in God."

Faced with the city at dusk, he suddenly couldn't remember the last time he had ventured beyond the halls past midday. It was a colder evening and the wind bit into the hollows of his ribs and forced shivers across his skin. Tugging the cloak tighter around his shoulders, he hurried forward, long legs carrying him past the familiar sights now so strange in the twilight.

The place he had been sent, a seemingly unnoteworthy apothecary, was not far and it wasn't until he was in sight, breath labored and mind fixed on the sign over the doorway, that he first saw the shadow at the edges of the street. It hadn't appeared to have been following him, indeed, it seemed not to notice him at all. But when a second figure lunged forward from the open ended alley and sank a flashing blade into the first's chest, he couldn't stop the strangled sound of surprise from ripping free of his throat and into the night.

It was a mistake.

Both men, for he could see now that they were men, turned to him and he sank back a step. Mind blank in astonishment, he did not at first notice when the second advanced from the dark of the side street and towards him. It was foolishness to think that the glow of his robes would deter the man in any way but he still, for the first moment, held out hope. He just couldn't imagine dying in a place like this.

"Hey!" The first shouted and he for a moment found space in his crowded mind to marvel at the fact that the man was still standing, much less shouting so loudly.

"What are you-" His words were cut off by the fist that connected with the side of his head, and seeing stars, he stumbled back until his calves met a small wooden cart parked nearby. His temper flared, burning away the inky constellations in his mind and he frowned darkly. "You should not have done that."

"Ah man." The first man moaned tiredly. "What do you think you're doing hitting a priest?"

"You should not be hitting any one." He grit, resisting raising a shaking hand to his temple which throbbed more richly with each gust of chill night air.

"Yeah, that's true." The first sighed, leaning languidly back against the building, blood steadily gathering at his feet. "But I think it matters a little less if it's me."

"Shut your fool mouth!" He roared, eyes widening in yet more dread when he felt his own blood gathering in the crevices of his teeth and escaping the confines of his mouth. 

"Hey, you ok?" The man asked, pushing away from the wall, his hair catching the street light and flashing like snow. "You look kind of peaky."

"I'm fine!" He spit, biting down on not just his tongue but the overwhelming, overlapping, paralyzing fear that grew suddenly up from that long buried place, watered with the blood that had, until now, seemed to have been staying where it was supposed to. 

"You have quite a temper there, Father." The man sighed, having finally reached them. He glanced at the second figure who, in seeming disbelief, had not moved since the beginning of their conversation. "I'm tellin' you. It's better if he has his way with me. After all, what do I care?"

"You want to die?!" He exclaimed, livid in both dismay and amazement.

"No." The figure muttered, reaching out now, lightning fast and wrapping an arm around the second's throat. "But even if I did, it's not like I can."

"What in the world do you-" He broke off, watching in incredulity as, with each movement of the mans arms, more blood gushed free and ran like a waterfall down his legs to the cobblestones; he did not seem concerned by this and with what could only be seen as inhuman strength, lifted the second figure over his head and tossed him, light as a child, across the street and into a rubbish pile. The impact rendered the second figure unconscious and the man now turned his ruby gaze back.

"You should probably get home or whatever. Take a long nap."

"Your- eyes are-"

"Red?" The man interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, well I am a vampire."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was growing harder and harder to ignore, he admitted, as he crept down the deserted hall in search of Matteo. Indeed, most nights now, he found it difficult to sleep for the chills and chest pain. He could feel it digging ever deeper, sinking it's unknown fingers into his lungs and muscles and wracking him with aches and shivers and now even an inability to eat. He was thinner than ever, as Matteo liked to remind him, joking that a strong wind might be enough to loose his feet from the floor and sweep him away and to Heaven. And it would have been an annoying enough joke on its own but for the twinge of real worry he could discern in Matteo's eyes whenever he was looked at too closely or accidentally let out a cough that had been punching at the back of his throat for the last hour.

It should have been nothing. He was a man of God. He was pious and good and atoned. It should have been nothing.

But it wasn't.

There had been no answers for him in the dead of night, or the light of dawn. or in the long watches of desperation every Mass. 

Slamming an already bruised fist against the nearest archway, he winced when the hollowed bones in his hand creaked. Rubbing at the spot, he bit his lip, and tried to ignore the panic that fluttered so like children’s breath at his heart. It would do no good. It would only increase the pain. It would only bring on another of his fits.

Knowing that vampires were real, assuming that he hadn't hallucinated the entirety of the event a couple weeks, wasn't making anything easier. His faith, already on shaking legs, was threatening to topple completely when faced with the truth of such creatures, the Damned, lurking in the night, in the city, and free to prey on those they chose. And if they truly existed, then what did that mean for Matteo's claim of werewolves?

He couldn't afford to wait any longer.

He was about to give up for the night, winded and miserable, when he turned a corner and almost ran head first into Matteo himself. He stumbled back, barely catching himself on his weakened ankles and shrugged off the concerned hand Matteo put forth.

"What are you doing out so late at night, my friend?" Matteo asked, the faux cavalier tone to his voice grating against already raw and bloodied nerves.

"Looking for you." He hissed. Grabbing a handful of the others robes, he gave as mighty of a pull as he could, one so diminished from his usual that he almost broke down in tears. "We need to talk."

"About what?" Matteo whispered cautiously. "Do you feel like you-"

"Not about me." He panted. "About the damn vampires."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was probably the time to go and see Father Antonio, he thought detachedly; there was no coming morning for him. And he would go too, he insisted, argued vehemently to himself, if only he could get up.

"Do you want another drink of water?" The voice next to him asked softly and he turned his head, neck muscles protesting violently. 

The figure there was blurry at best, but he thought he could make out blonde waves. Unsure if he had given a response or not, he blinked, willing the vision to clear. If nothing else, what a sight to be his last.

"Is he-" Matteo's high alto drifted over from the doorway and the blonde blur shook its head.

"Please come in." The soft one answered.

A shaking hand wrapped around one of his, seeming miles away, and Matteo's face slowly materialized. His freckles looked more pronounced than ever and it took him far too long to understand it was the unnatural pallor of Matteo's face that made them so.

"How are you, my friend?"

Summoning every ounce of life left in his body, he scoffed, the sound weak and wet in the otherwise complete silence. "You- demonstrate- your empty head-edness."

A trembling smile wound over Matteo's lips and his grip tightened just a fraction. "What would I be otherwise?"

A priest, he thought sullenly, enviously. It had been his future, his goal and meaning in existence. Now, Matteo would see that Ordainment alone. Perhaps he would even earn his spot in the college, one that he had not even had chance to sit in on. 

There were no answers anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When next his eyes opened his vision had cleared, was in fact crystal sharp and bright despite the obvious glow of the moon beyond the windows, windows that he did not recognize. Suspiciously, he cast it about the room and recoiled in shock when he met a gaze he had never seen before.

"Feeling better, aren't we?" The stranger asked cheerfully. "Tell me! How is your head? Your lungs? Quite a toll it took on you there! I'm surprised you held on as long as you did. Naught but mush in your chest by the end!"

"What are you talking about?" He demanded, eyes flying wide at the restoration of his deep tenor. It was something that he had not heard in the last month of suffering and wavering delirium and it's sudden reappearance was startling at best and terrifying at worst.

The man grinned, wide and unfettered. "Welcome to your new life!" He stepped back, out of his immediate line of sight, and spread long arms. "How do you feel, be honest."

"I-" He cut off, scowling blackly and sitting up, once more stunned by the ease with which this small motion, before next to impossible, was now accomplished. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"I've already told you." The man tutted. "Doubt Doubt. That is your name now."

"My-" His gaze flew to the small mirror over the sink that was inset into the wall. In it stared back a mad version of his face. Returned were his delicate, high cheekbones and attractively curved forehead, leading back into shining ravens feathers for hair, but his eyes... gone was the green of a spring rain and in place was a sparkling. cold ruby flame. "My name is-" He trailed off distractedly, realizing that he could not seem to remember it. All his memories were intact, strong and full of conviction, even the dread soaked ones of the last few weeks, but this, his name, he couldn't seem to-

"Not any more." The man smiled. "You are Doubt Doubt. Of Envy."

The mention of the sin, one of the last complete, coherent memories that he possessed, knocked the wind from his newly restored lungs and he bolted up, lithe and sure on his feet once more. "Impossible! Where am I?"

"Your friend really should have warned you." The man murmured, looking for all the world as though he were full of pity. "But then, it's entirely possible he did. Many don't seem to remember those last few days."

Without thought, he crossed the room in six staccato steps, his hands already winding around the throat of the man, this tormentor sent to punish his for his dying sacrilege. But even when his fingers, strong now, stronger than ever they were before, dug into his flesh, the man only continued to watch him calmly. Finally, after several moments of blinding rage he forced his grip to go slack, hands falling away from the mans neck, shoulders, back to his own sides, hanging limply.

"You have quite a temper." The man laughed and instantly another memory was summoned to the forefront of his mind. One of a pale, lackluster youth in worn clothing, with a mortal wound in his chest, tossing a grown man twenty feet; a young man with the same burning blood in his eyes.

"Vampire." He murmured, the words falling free in numb disbelief.

"That's right." The man agreed brightly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was with both fear and hope that Doubt Doubt stopped just before the first step of the ancient stairs that led up to the entrance, a path he had so oft taken without a second thought. But there in lay salvation, or at the very least, an end to this treacherous half life, this stain upon his humanity. Tugging the hood low over his face, making sure that nothing but his thin lips could be seen, he took a step and then another. He was unsure if it was relief or disappointment he felt when, in stepping through the doorway and into the gold gilded opulence, he did not burst into flames or finally fall dead to the floor.

It had been months, long enough that he was sure that even were he recognizable, no one would have the time to think twice. As long as he steered clear of the back quarters, kept to the crowded main halls and rooms, it was going to be fine, there was no one that-

"Oh my god." A voice breathed and Doubt Doubt spun on his heel, anguish pooling in his stomach. "You-" Matteo broke off, wide brown eyes suddenly flooding. "I thought he had spoken lies."

"Who?" Doubt Doubt demanded harshly, forgetting his plan and allowing his feet to follow the pull towards the other.

"T-that man." He stuttered, taking his own step back in response to every one of Doubt Doubt's forward. "He told me that you-"

"That I what?" He insisted, now towering over the smaller man.

He could see the moment that Matteo saw the red of his eyes for his face, already pale in shock, drained further, until he was almost a bleached parchment. "Your-"

"Come with me." Doubt Doubt interrupted swiftly, grabbing Matteo's arm and  dragging him as quickly as he could without drawing attention towards the so familiar halls that led to his room.

The door, as he had hoped, was unlocked and, in pushing it open, he felt a rush of regret wash over him. He should not have come back here. Not when he had for so long agonized over his plan already. Matteo, now following willingly enough, was hovering in the doorway and at Doubt Doubt's sharp look, swallowed a gasp and darted the rest of the way in. He, whether out of habit or a lack of self preservation, pulled the door closed behind him and then they stood, silently studying the other in the swirling dust motes filling the room.

Matteo, as always, was the first to speak; his voice weak and hollow in the gloom. "He said he could help you."

"Who?"

"I saw..." His eyes darted to the window, now shuttered, and back. "I met a boy in the square. He was the one you told me about. I thought nothing of it until I saw his eyes." His gaze fluttered briefly up to Doubt Doubt's before falling back away. "You were right."

"Of course I was." Doubt Doubt muttered flatly.

"When you- you died." Matteo sucked in an unsteady breath, his vision once more clouding over with tears. "My friend, my dear one, you were dead and I- I think I-"

"You lost your mind." Doubt Doubt accused, fingers clenched beneath his sleeves, where they could not be seen.

"I could not stand to see you like that. I heard, you know. Father Antonio does not keep secrets as well as he thinks. I kept thinking, thinking that if I could only do something you would be able to, to join the College and-"

"I can do no such thing as I am." He snarled, stepping forward and whipping back the hood, letting his hair fall free, eyes flashing in the muted sunlight. 

Matteo's expression grew fearful and awe struck in equal parts as he looked up into Doubt Doubt's face. "God, what have I done?" He whimpered, hands clasping in desperation between them. "That man, he said that he could change it, reverse your death or- God, forgive me. Please. Forgive me."

"I will forgive when you have done something about this." Doubt Doubt whispered, tone dripping in venomous hate. "Find a way to end this suffering or you will only be destined to join me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned." Doubt Doubt began, foot tapping fretfully against the worn wood of the confessional. "It has been eighteen months since my last confession. I have been consumed with hate and vitriol. I am no longer a man of God."

"Everyone is a child of the lord." The voice beyond the veil was elderly and breathy and Doubt Doubt found himself wondering suddenly how easy it would be to frighten such a man to death.

"Every one, you say?"

"Yes, of course. All of mankind is held in his loving arms."

"I am no man."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surely, Matteo would have passed by now, Doubt Doubt mused, watching the water in the hold of the ship slosh worryingly. It had been more than a century. Men were not meant to live so long. And so it was that, feeling his sanity degrade further every day, he decided that it best he leave his beloved city. For what was it now but a painful prison? It was no more his city than the ticket he had used to board this ship had been.

Glancing down, he wondered if the tailor he had contracted had found the request strange. Most likely it was not every day that he was instructed to create a bastard priest's robes. Now in jet black, Doubt Doubt was confident that he would not be questioned or accosted, and the drape, the heavy fall of the fabric was, despite the passing years, still a comfort. There was no ornamentation, no rosary or trim; those were things from the past, things that were no longer in his grasp, and the memories it summoned had been far too much. Each new election, each new pope and passing of priests and bishops had left him bereft and sinking further beneath the black waves of his own destruction; Doubt Doubt had realized he had to leave, because he could not die.

The veil he wore now had been a gift oddly enough. A strange girl with sparkling green eyes had given it to him on the street one late evening. Wandering alone past the river, Doubt Doubt had stumbled, hurriedly pulling his hood and thick cotton scarf back up and over in fear when he had noticed the girl and her mother near the water's edge. She had seen though, he could tell by her knowing look, and when, after a brief word to her mother, she turned her steps towards him, he considered running. It would be easy to outrun one so small; he could outrun anything in the world now, after all.

"That looks uncomfortable." She said solemnly when they were within earshot of each other. Holding out her small hand, she presented a thin, delicately made silk veil. "Take this."

Doubt Doubt stared down at the offering in stupefaction and it was only when she huffed impatiently and waved the veil around a bit that he was jolted back into active thought. "I do not need it."

"But you look like you would like it. You'll breathe easier." She insisted, and without warning, crossed the rest of the distance between them and plopped the soft material into his hand, which had reached out of its own accord in habit. "Please take it, Father."

Biting his lip deeply, enough to bring a flash of copper to his tongue, Doubt Doubt curled his fingers over the veil and let all he could think to say fill the void. "I never made it that far."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had become habit to speak lowly, it was far easier to hide his teeth that way. Or at least that's what he told himself. It was more likely that than, though trapped in a never aging body, he was somehow still growing old in mind. Mumbling and hiding and denying were just so much easier. And when one spent his time making little bottled ships, an infuriating hobby that he had picked up from Matteo, one did not really need to speak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The church in this new city was small, but then, all seemed small in the face of the Vatican, he mused, standing in the street and staring up at the dome. It would accomplish nothing, bring nothing but regret and anger, but he still could seem to stop himself from ascending the stairs and gliding into the atrium. Sister like wall sconces and décor greeted him and he breathed a soft sigh. Letting his fingers trail over the statues lining the alcoves, he worked his way towards the altar and paused, staring up at the swirling scrollwork of the inner bannisters.

"Good day!" A voice called cheerfully, and Doubt Doubt started, his gaze flying to the back of the room. There stood what he could only think was the resident priest, and instantly his heart sank. "Don't worry, you're always welcome!" He added seeing the twist of Doubt Doubt's lips.

"I do not belong here." He said softly, voice carrying in the quiet of the air.

"All belong!" The priest exclaimed, still smiling. "And you have that look. The call of God, it speaks to you."

"I have not heard that voice in years." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was like a long forgotten dream but try as he might, Doubt Doubt could not place his finger on the memory. It sat, hovering at the edges of his mind, winking in and out of sight in frustrating patterns. Something about her long, blonde hair pulled at his empty heart and drew him in, filled him with a sense of ease and happiness that he had not known in lifetimes. She felt like an unfamiliar homecoming.

She was so, so hard to resist.

And so, when she came to him, found him in that dark basement, biding his endless time and pretending not to exist, he did not think twice, did not stop to question why she wanted him. Only rejoiced shallowly in what little feeling he could summon that there was still some reason for his continued presence on this cursed plain, some meaning in his cruel existence.

And now it was too late. She was standing before him, bereft and broken, mad from the hole in her heart, and they were contracted and he had only two options. Both were unthinkable and once more he was left with the clarity of vision that he had never seemed to possess in the moment. Someone, a man he once knew, had joked that his hot head was the reason he had made it to deacon. "You're just too stubborn and scary when angry to say no to!" He had always laughed and Doubt Doubt spent a moment admiring the clarity with which he could recall such words. But what had been his name? 

"You have to." She slurred, leaning forward and draping herself over his shoulders. "You're mine and I say and so you have to."

He remained silent, hoping that she would grow bored and lose interest, but he had no such luck and her anger was too strong, her hate too powerful. 

"You will." She demanded, pulling out a kitchen knife, one that looked pilfered from the family's heritage collection, if he had to hazard a guess. "Use this, it will be so easy. He is so small~" She thrust the knife into his hand and barely looked when, in sliding the blade through her own, she sliced open her lily white palm. "Tomorrow is someone's birthday and I must make a cake. You can think of how you want to do it and then we'll have two reasons for cake!" She used the bloodied hand to swipe back her wild hair, falling in clumps over her forehead and Doubt Doubt almost couldn't resist the urge to jump up and pull her hand away, saving that beautiful color from the sin of her blood. "Figure it out, or I will." 

He was small, though not as small as the one he had come to find, and Doubt Doubt only just saw him in the doorway of the little ones room. Standing there, staring openly into Doubt Doubt's eyes, he seemed to feel no fear, though the flash of the knife was visible in the setting sun's flames through the window. Yes, he had always been an odd one. Doubt Doubt had only talked with him several times, just enough to place his face and name in the great tide of those that resided behind the walls of the mansion he now haunted. Mikuni was his name, yes and he was her son; that much was obvious as he possessed the same silken cornflower hair. 

Neither said anything and, in a fit of determination, Doubt Doubt turned from the doorway, tucking the knife away. He had not intended to use it but between his worried distraction and the siren call of the contract he had found it repeatedly in his hand over the course of the last few hours. 

Mikuni watched him go, he could feel that razor sharp gaze piercing his back, and only when he had once more hidden himself away in the basement, tucked into the darkest corner he could find, the heat of the boiler a comfort to his chilly scales, could he finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Surely, she would not be able to find him here. And without his poisonous presence perhaps she could regain her mind, find once more her love and soul that he had so come to enjoy. The connection sang, even within the limited confines of the building but she was not truly thinking, had not been for months, and so he hoped she would not be able to follow it's call.

When hours later the sound of footsteps roused him from his fugue like doze, fear cramped his lungs, shooting ice into his already frozen veins. How had she-

But the figure that stopped in front of his hiding place was not hers, and he relaxed somewhat. No, it was the boys. Mikuni's. And it was with a piqued interest and vague sense of dread that he wondered how this one could find him when even his own master could not.

"I have a proposal for you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adjusting the veil, he approached the cold stone steps that he had spent a lifetime treading up and down and now had not seen in decades. The sun was wasting away behind the promenade and yet people still lingered, modern attire and garish colors at odds with the old world design of the building. Jeje took a deep breath and swept up the staircase, attempting to keep his heart rate and back even. There was after all, nothing to fear. He had entered before, many times, in hopes of destruction and atonement, in desperation, and in rage. It was not absolution he sought now, but the simple peace of truth.

The high, arched ceilings, as beautiful as ever, rose above his head and he sighed, feeling that old cloak, once so comfortable and now only a gaudy costume, fall back over his shoulders. It had been his duty, his only desire- a dream no longer within his grasp. All around him, the scrolling designs, checkered framework of paintings, carved bannisters, and painstakingly carved statuaries reflected back the memories he had carefully piled over with dirt in the past hundred years of existence. Flooding back in such a wave they were incomprehensible and he almost lost his step. It was only when he noticed a set of curious eyes on him that he regained his composure and, straightening the shoulders of the priest robes he had donned so fretfully that morning, strode on. They fit just as well, as they should, as he had not changed, and in the ensuing observations he noted the vague curiosity replaced by an awed sort of respect. So it seemed he still looked the part.

Wasting time that he did not have, knowing Mikuni was holed up at their hotel room, most assuredly watching the clock in begrudging silence and counting the minutes, he trailed along the many familiar winding passages and elaborate stairwells, admiring the filter and fall of the sun, like solid beams, from the windows and across the dizzying tile floors. It was all so equally unchanged, he thought in amazement.

Pulling the freshly cleaned fabric left to right, the light petering out as he did so, Jeje sat on the loving, sturdy bench and waited. The sounds of rustling could be heard on the other side and then a polite cough. With a stranglehold on his bewildered emotions, he cleared his throat and began, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned." He hesitated. "It has been eighty-nine years since my last confession." The priest on the other side, whoever he may be, to his credit, managed to tamp down on his noise of shock, no doubt confounded by the voice he was hearing. Supposedly that of an as of that moment at least hundred year old man, it was still as silken and low as the deepest of chime bells. "I have committed the gravest of sins. An accomplishment for my already dark soul."

"God will forgive al-"

"Not this." Jeje interrupted, pushing past the ingrained, resurfacing habits of deference. "Not any more. I have corrupted the young and innocent. I have sullied his family home and life. Ruined it as surely as I am ruined. First through his mother and now through, most detestably, him. She was loving and warm, the love of his life, and because of me she fell into a deep madness. She wanted the worst of things. And now she is dead."

There was a heavy pause, the priest- no, the mortal man- on the other side, pulling in a deep breath, as though in preparation. "Was it an accident?"

"No, Father. It was murder."

[avelera]

“Lights Out” Nicky/Joe Timeline

I did this a bit earlier in the fic writing process, but if anyone is curious about the Lights Out “official timeline” of how Nicky and Joe spent their first hundred years as immortals, you can find it below the cut.

- June, 1099 - Nicky and Joe first see each other from the walls of Jerusalem and both are intrigued and drawn to the person they see, hoping they’ll get a chance to encounter the other in battle. 

- July, 1099 - Nicky and Joe meet in battle, remaining outside the walls once the Crusaders break through, fighting each other until nightfall. Eventually, after killing each other 3 times, they realize they can’t get the other to stay dead and that the Crusaders have taken and burned the city of Jerusalem. Nicky urges Joe to run but prevents him from entering the city, as his mercy towards Joe does not extend towards allowing an enemy combatant back into the fray. Joe departs and heads for Ascalon to bring word of the fall of Jerusalem to the Fatimid Caliphate. 

- Late 1099-1105 - Joe and Nicky encounter one another regularly in military conflicts between the Fatimid Caliphate and the newly founded Christian Kingdoms. 

During this time, Nicky realizes that he does not die or age, and learns that his father has had a son with his second wife. He sends word back to Genova that his father’s eldest living son “Nicolo” has died in the Crusades. During this period, Nicky begins to struggle with feelings of guilt and penance over his role in the brutal sacking of Jerusalem. However, the damage is done and there’s no way to undo the conquest, so he sees it as his duty to shepherd the safety of pilgrims and to secure the Christian Kingdoms he fought to establish. 

Joe continues to fight on the losing and often disorganized Fatimid side, constantly frustrated by the loss of territory to both Christians and Seljuks, but mostly because Nicky just keeps finding him, even in unlikely places, like while Joe is spying on the Christian defenses in Jaffa while disguised as a merchant. 

That said, the two can’t forget each other and there is more than just hatred that exists between them, though they kill one another regularly whenever they meet. They have their first romantic encounter (if it can even be called that) outside Ramla while hiding from a storm that scattered both of their forces in the middle of a battle. Torn between killing each other and admitting that they both need shelter, the mood turns heated as frustrations boil over, and they kiss (and then some) for the first time while grappling in their latest fight. Startled by his own passion, Joe flees into the night back to his side. However, the pattern repeats itself over the next decades, when hatred and passion mingle and neither can get the other out of their mind. 

Their second sexual encounter is on another spying mission of Joe’s, this time in Jerusalem. His base of operations was a brothel in the city, where he hid out pretending to be a patron, figuring he’d be safe from the devout Christian knight who seemed to find him everywhere. Of course, Nicky appeared, looking for one of his fellow soldiers who was to be disciplined. 

However, Nicky surprised Joe by paying off the sex worker Joe had hired to shelter him that night, but telling Joe that it was late and as long as he left the city when the sun rose, Nicky could be merciful and allow him the comfort and safety of a bed that night. Significant looks were shared and they enjoyed their second encounter in a much more pleasant setting than their first. 

- 1105-1120 - The fighting continues. Joe and Nicky age into their 40s and 50s, gaining the military skill of experienced generals while still enjoying the fighting prowess of young men. Both see this supernatural ability as obviously a sign that it is their duty to take part in the military conflicts between their people (though the politics of the time are messy and occasionally alliances do exist between both their sides against the Turks. On these occasions they find more excuses than usual to spend their nights together even while spitting curses at each other the next day). 

When an order of monastic knights was founded known as the Knights Templar, Nicky reinvented himself for the first but not the last time to join their ranks. However, the concerns of the Christian kingdoms grew increasingly secular as time wore on, frustrating him as the politics of Jerusalem grew increasingly distant from the initial promise of the Crusades he signed up to participate in as a protector of pilgrims. 

- 1122 - Nicky and Joe speak for the first time without once drawing their swords. On the banks of a river on the day before a battle between their people, Joe realizes at age 56 that he is feeling ever more distant from the men he serves beside and that Nicky is the only peer he has who was there at Jerusalem. He and Nicky speak for an hour, getting to know each other, which marks the beginning of a tentative friendship. While their duels and mutual murder of one another do continue to take place regularly (as well as moments stolen away in each other’s beds when the occasion allows) their duels lose their initial hatred and become almost playful at times. 

- 1122-1144/1147 - The conflicts between Fatimids and Christians slow somewhat as the Seljuks rise as the more dominant regional Muslim power. Joe and Nicky begin to lose their sense of wonder at their own immortality as they age past their 50s and 60s into their 70s, feeling increasingly alienated from their fellow soldiers as the political landscape shifts and the causes they initially fought for begin to warp beyond recognition as a new generation rises. 

It becomes increasingly difficult for them to feel connected to the urgency of the fight, as the Christian kingdoms adapt to the area and begin to be absorbed politically into the conflicts of the Levant region, no longer an ideological enemy but simply another force. Their sense of isolation is exacerbated by their independent realizations that they need to “die” and reinvent themselves every decade or so to hide from suspicion of their lack of aging, which cuts them off from past companions and family members and often bars them from cities and social circles they’d grown to know and love. They become one another’s only constant. 

Joe watches the rise of Imad al-Din Zengi with consternation and a trace of envy as the Fatimids wain in effectiveness and the Seljuk warlord takes up the mantel of the champion of Islam to drive the Christians from the region. Zengi eventually succeeds in recapturing the now-Christian kingdom of Edessa, prompting the Pope in Europe to call for a Second Crusade. 

Nicky, upon hearing a Second Crusade is to be called and a the cycle of violence will inevitably begin again with a new wave of clueless Europeans charging into a delicate region they don’t understand, inevitably spreading bloodshed and terror, finally gives up on the Templars and the Christian kingdoms now known as Outremer. He came to the Holy Land to protect pilgrims, not to prop up European princes at the expense of the common people. He flees into the wilderness outside Jerusalem to become a hermit, of sorts, protecting pilgrims on the road during these dangerous times, regardless of their faith, as his ultimate act of penance for his role in the brutal sacking of Jerusalem decades before.

Joe around the same time realizes he hasn’t seen Nicky in a while, begins to worry, realizes how much has changed that he does worry. Eventually he tracks Nicky down to his hermit cave and brings him home with him. Their time together as enemies ends officially and their time as friends and lovers begins, never to end.

- 1147- 1171 - While not finding Zengi terribly inspiring, Joe does find his more scholarly son Nur ad-Din a more palatable leader and joins his side as a soldier the next time he needs to “die” and reinvent himself. Nicky, however, abstains from the fighting except as a freelance guard to protect pilgrims. While he has disavowed the politics of the Crusader states, he is not yet at the point of fully turning on them to join the other side. 

- 1171-1193 - Fighting for Nur al-Din brings Joe into contact Salah ad-Din (Saladin) who he and eventually Nicky find to be the sort of inspiring leader they’ve been looking for. Nicky and Joe partake in the Third Crusade and the “Fall of Jerusalem”, this time in Nicky’s case from the other side as he becomes a vassal of Saladin’s alongside Joe. However, the brief spark of Saladin’s leadership is the last gasp of their emotional investment of what feels like an endless conflict in the Holy Land that bears little resemblance to the war they first fought in on opposite sides. (Little do they know, this is only the Third of what will be more than Seven Crusades.) 

After Saladin’s death from illness in 1193, they lose their last connection to the region and are too heartsick to continue the fight. They travel to Genova to make Nicky’s peace with a homeland he hasn’t seen in almost a century, then pass through Al-Andalus and then decide to try to find the women in their dreams who are currently moving west, shadowing a great horde of horse-riding warriors (the Mongol Invasion). Nicky and Joe in the mid 13th century end up in Baghdad, where they eventually encounter Andy and Quynh when the Mongol army arrives there and the city falls. 

Sooo.... as you can see, there’s a lot there @_@ some of it is very sketchy and back of the envelope, I steer clear a bit from Joe’s side because the Fatimids are a bit hard to trace in this era (they keep getting conflated with the Seljuks, who were also their enemies, so I’m hesitant to say exactly when and if Joe would develop sympathy for or join the Seljuk side. It was a messy time, politically). I’m interested in doing some sort of 5+1 E-rated fic about some of their first encounters eventually. But in the meantime, this is the timeline I’ve worked out with my VERY amateur scholarship. 

[kurowrites]

Letters from Beyond

So, here we have the second part of that fic. The one in which Jin Guangshan get murdered. So unfortunate.

---

The death of Jin Guangshan had long-lasting consequences. It didn’t simply end with the establishment of the Yiling Patriarch at Burial Grounds – the political balance between the sects had now shifted.

Some of the ongoing developments, especially as far as it concerned the Qinshan Wen sect, were difficult to ascertain. They had seemed to withdraw after murder of Jin Guangshan, Wen Chao all but vanishing from sight, but as of yet, no one knew where it would eventually lead to. What was clear to the few individuals that knew about the Yin Iron, it was that Wei Wuxian hadn’t handed the Iron over to the Qishan Wen. As long as the barrier around Burial Grounds was up, the Yin Iron was in the possession of the Yiling Patriarch.

It disquieted Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian, a man of uncertain morals and allegiance, was all that stood between Wen Ruohan and the Yin Iron.

The largest and most obvious change, however, was that Jin Zixuan became Jin Guangshan’s successor and new leader of the Lanling Jin sect. His mother supported him in his duties at first, and it became clear very quickly that his style of leadership was very different from his father. Lan Wangji wasn’t sorry to see it.

To the surprise of everyone who had been at Cloud Recesses at the time, the engagement between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli was eventually renewed. After the renewal of the engagement was announced, it did not take long for the wedding invitations to arrive in Gusu. It was sooner than Lan Wangji would have expected, but then, that they had renewed the engagement at all was perhaps the most surprising part. After all, Wei Wuxian had belonged to the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. The Jiang were partially to blame for the death of Jin Zixuan’s father, and no one would have blamed him if he refused to take Jiang Yanli as a bride now. And yet, it seemed like he’d had a change of heart.  

Lan Wangji couldn’t help but think about Wei Wuxian as he read the wedding invitation Lan Xichen had given him. His sister would marry the new leader of the Lanling Jin sect, and Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be able to attend. Wouldn’t even be able to congratulate her. Lan Wangji knew that he had loved his sister very much – to the point that he would fight her own fiancé if he thought her mistreated. But Wei Wuxian hadn’t left the Burial Mounds even once after the barrier had gone up, and he would be a dead man walking if he did. There had been rumours about strange, shadowy figures leaving and entering the mountain in the cover of darkness a few times. But it was all rumours, and no one knew what was happening behind the barriers and the cover of the withered trees of Burial Mounds.

Lan Wangji had only spoken about it once with Lan Xichen, but he was still haunted by his last words to Wei Wuxian. How foolish he had been, in retrospective, to let his own prideful anger come between the two of them. His mistake had cost him the truth. He had followed Wei Wuxian to find answers, not to push him away. But he had succeeded in pushing Wei Wuxian away so perfectly, he couldn’t reach him now no matter how much he tried. The answers of what happened that fateful night were inaccessible to him now.

No, he had said, instead of asking him why he’d done it. He had betrayed the principles of his sect because he had felt personally betrayed by Wei Wuxian’s actions. It had taken him weeks until he had finally felt he’d done penance enough.

His brother had watched him with worried eyes, but said nothing. That had continued until one day, he suddenly sighed and said, “Wangji, you cannot punish yourself for the actions of Wei Wuxian, too.”

That is not what I’m doing, had been on his lips, but Lan Xichen had only smiled sadly and shook his head.

Things had returned to normal, as much as they could. The library was cleaned out and purified thoroughly. Jin Zixuan visited Cloud Recesses, to show that there was no bad blood between the two sects. Lan Wangji congratulated him on his impending marriage, trying not to think about all the things Wei Wuxian might have to say on such an occasion. Weeks turned into months, and the rumours about the Yiling Patriarch swirled even at Cloud Recesses. The last Lan Wangji had heard, the demonic cultivator at Burial Mounds had glowing red eyes and the body of a snake.

And yet, Burial Mounds remained encased in shadows.

It remained that way until Lan Wangji returned to the Jingshi one evening, tired from the duties of the day and ready to rest, and found a letter on his desk that hadn’t been there in the morning. None of the servants could have brought it in. No indication on who had sent it, or that it was even addressed to him. Who had brought a letter into his room? He could only think of his brother, but Lan Xichen had seen him not half an hour ago, and he had said nothing about a letter.  

He quickly sat down and opened it with careful movements.

Lan Zhan, it read.

Lan Wangji froze. His heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. Could it be–

Lan Zhan.

Forgive me for my impertinence. I do not wish to trouble you, but I felt that out of all the people I could have possibly asked, you are the one who will be unfailingly honourable and will not betray me. Not that I think my brother or sister will betray me. But if Yu Ziyuan hears about me sending them letters, there will be an end to all peace. So. You are the only person I can depend on. Please don’t betray that trust. I always trust your inherent goodness, Lan Zhan. Please believe that.

I know I’m rambling, and I can already see the furrow forming in your brow as you read this. Be patient with me. I’ve been shut up with the same few people in a rather desolate place for a while now, I feel I’ve already forgotten how normal communication works. Wen Qing is constantly judging me for it already, so you don’t have to carry that burden. It’s well taken care of. She’s amazing, by the way, and out of the two of us, she’s definitely the one who’s keeping everything together. If there ever comes a time when you can do something for her or her brother, please do the right thing. They never deserved getting shut in with a criminal. The guilt is mine alone.

I’ve heard that my sister will marry soon. Yes, I hear things, I have my ways. You know how I feel about the peacock, so keep an eye on him and give him a beating if he deserves it. No, tell Jiang Cheng to give him a beating. I think your disapproving glare will be enough. Jin Zixuan isn’t strong enough to withstand it.

I wish I could be there, see my sister wearing red. She will be the most beautiful bride that ever lived. But I can’t leave this place. I know the sects are watching me. So, I ask you humbly to give something to my sister, on her marriage, because she deserves a present from me at least, if I can’t be there for her. I wish I could. But I can’t, so I’m asking you to give it to her. You can do it under your own name, if you are more comfortable with that, I don’t mind. I just want her to have it. Please, Lan Zhan, I know you must hate me now and I know I have betrayed your trust, but I cannot disregard my duty as a brother. If someone understands that, it must be you.

However, if you’re unwilling to comply with my request, know that I don’t blame you. I do understand. In that case, you can give it to Hei and he will bring it back to me. Don’t try to trick him, and don’t try to follow him. He’s smarter than that.

And yes, I know that the name is stupid. I gave it jokingly, and now he answers to nothing else. Maybe not such a smart creature, after all.

Wei Wuxian

The letter disregarded all conventions of courtesy and letter writing, a strange mixture of polite request, cheeky comments, and rambling. There was no doubt in Lan Wangji’s mind that it had been written by Wei Wuxian himself. Who could write such a letter, other than him?

There were two problems, however, he pondered. No present for Jiang Yanli had been attached to the letter. To send such a letter without the present itself made no sense. And then, that strange name at the end…

“Hei?” Lan Wangji murmured to himself.

A croak answered him. He whipped around, and found a raven staring down at him from the top of the bookshelf right behind him. It had its head slightly turned, clearly watching him.

“Are you Hei?” Lan Wangji asked.

The raven croaked again.

He couldn’t believe it. Wei Wuxian had sent him a raven. It was a large animal, with cunningly intelligent eyes. An unusual messenger, indeed. It was so unexpected, and yet so very much like the Wei Wuxian that he remembered. The one who had teased him about rabbits, and then went out of his way to take care of them.

“Do you have the gift for Jiang Yanli?” Lan Wangji tried again.

The raven turned around and picked something up, spread its wings, and sailed down from the bookshelf, right onto Lan Wangji’s desk. He dropped the present onto the letter.

Careful to keep his movements slow, Lan Wangji reached for it. Hei seemed not to mind Lan Wangji’s closeness, so he took it, and opened the string that held the little box together. Inside the box, he found a beautiful hair ornament, embedded in fine silk: an array of lotus flowers in white and pink hues that would no doubt look beautiful in Jiang Yanli’s hair. Lan Wangji held it up and studied it. Truly, it was a suitable gift for the future wife of the sect leader of Lanling Jin. It also contained a powerful protection charm.

Protection against evil.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes.

He thought about the contents of the letter for a moment, but he knew that he had made his decision already. There could be no harm in giving Jiang Yanli this gift. It contained Wei Wuxian’s wish for his sister’s future.

And, he though, perhaps this was his penance. Wei Wuxian was still a murderer, but Lan Wangji had broken the rules of his sect.

He would not deny Wei Wuxian’s request.

“I will bring this gift to Jiang Yanli,” he told the raven. “But if you wait, I will also give you a answer to bring to your master.”

The raven crowed as if in agreement. He picked up one of Lan Wangji’s brushes and waved it into his face, as if to tell him to hurry up. Apparently, the temperamental disposition of master and pet did not differ significantly, Lan Wangji thought to himself. Wei Wuxian might have done the same, impatient as he always was.

He took the brush from Hei, and penned a very short answer for Wei Wuxian.

I have received your gift, and will do what you asked of me. I will tell your sister as much as I can, without endangering you or her. I cannot give you a promise for anything else at present.

You are right, however. Hei is a terrible name.

Lan Wangji

It was hardly an acceptable reply, and lacked both form and courtesy, but Lan Wangji knew that Wei Wuxian, of all people, would delight in his lack of style.

He handed the letter to Hei, who carefully picked it from his fingers and vanished out of the window with a quick rustle of his wings.

Silence settled over the Jingshi once more.

Lan Wangji looked at the letter again.

Wei Wuxian, he thought to himself. You call me honourable. I was not, when it came to you.

He thought about his own short answers. Would Wei Wuxian smile at it? Or would he not care at all? Lan Wangji had wanted to ask so many things, but he hadn’t dared.

Wei Wuxian, why have you killed Jin Guangshan?

Wei Wuxian, are you all right?

[chancellormatt]

Voltron Rewrite Episode Fifteen - The Imprisoned Princess

The Dark Reality - Ten Thousand Years Ago

King Alfor looks down at a burning Altea. Tears stream down his face, as he is helpless to do anything else. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming, Alfor” A voice says from behind. “Your people burn because of your actions.”

“You...monster!” Alfor whirls around to face Zarkon.

The pair of them stand on a suspended walkway hanging on the remains of the altean royal palace. The fires cast the pair in angry light.

“I wonder,” Zarkon says, “did you weep this much for Diabazaal? Did you even hesitate? Or were you eager to finally have an excuse to remove such a thorn from your side?”

“I did weep for your world, Zarkon! But do not compare my efforts to save the universe with this...this butchery!”

“There it is again. King Alfor, up on his moral high ground. Well in case you haven’t noticed, there isn’t much ground to stand on anymore.” Zarkon nods down to the burning fields that used to be Altea.

“You talk to me like a bitter enemy Zarkon...but you were my friend. A brother to me…” His eyes look very tired then. “But this...this isn’t the Zarkon I fought beside. Not the hero I knew. You are a warped shadow wearing the skin of my friend. How could someone like that do this to my people!? To my...my wife...oh stars, my wife.” He pauses, staring downward for what seems an eternity. When he looks up, his eyes are hard.

“One way or another…” Alfor summons his bayard, forming it into a longsword. “...this ends now.”

“At last, we agree on something.” Zarkon materializes his own wickedly curved bayard sword.

The two paladins charge down the walkway at each other. 

Alfor’s first strike is a thrust for Zarkon’s midsection. The large galra turns the strike away and kicks Alfor in the chest. Alfor goes flying backwards across the walkway, only barely managing to land on two feet. 

But Zarkon is back upon him almost immediately, unleashing a flurry of strikes. Alfor blocks the series of blows, but the power of each one pushes Alfor back further. Alfor ducks beneath the final swing and shoves his own sword upward, grazing Zarkon on the shoulder. 

Snarling, Zarkon knocks aside Alfor’s followup and grabs the King by the head. He slams Alfor’s face into the walkway’s railing, dazing him. As Alfor stumbles back, Zarkon swings again with his sword. The blow is only just blocked but the force throws Alfor down onto his back. 

Zarkon jumps up, sword plunging downward to pin Alfor to the walkway. Before he can be skewered Alfor throws up a hand, firing off a blast of blue lighting that blasts Zarkon backwards. 

Zarkon lands on his back, much like Alfor. 

Both leap to their feet, Zarkon moving in for the sword swing, while Alfor unleashes another blast of lightning.

The lighting strikes Zarkon, wrapping it's glowing tendrils along his body. Zarkon cries out in pain and anger but he does not fall. In spite of the alchemical lightning, he takes a step forward.

“Th-that’s your problem...Alfor…”

Another step forward.

“...you have never been…”

Another step.”

“...as strong…”

Another.

“...as ME!”

Zarkon swings his blade.

Alfor stumbles back, gripping his gut where the blade struck home. He sways, trying to remain standing. Then, he drops his sword and falls to his knees. He looks up at his former friend, face awash with pain and sorrow.

“You may kill me...but you will never have what you really want. You will never have Voltron!”

Zarkon chuckles, then laughs. He steps back and continues his mad cackle. Alfor looks on with confusion. Eventually, Zarkon regains his composure, looks back down at Alfor and smiles.

“Oh, Alfor...my men sent word just before I found you here. Your ploy to send the Lions away didn’t work.”

Alfor’s eyes widen.

“Yes, my men captured them, along with the Castle of Lion while they were trying to flee. Still, I must commend you. It very nearly worked. My men said it was fifty-fifty odds. Seems the coin didn’t fall in your favor, old friend.”

“Allura…” Alfor says with horror. “Wh...what about my daughter?”

Zarkon stares down at Alfor, as if hesitating.

“...she fought to the very end. Too much like her father, it seems.”

The light in Alfor’s eyes dies. He slumps over, drained completely. For a moment, both are silent. The crackling of the fires and occasional distant blasts are the only sounds audible. 

“...just end it already. I want to join my wife and daughter.” Alfor finally says 

Zarkon raises his blade, but stops before the swing. Alfor waits. The blade never falls. 

“...no.” Zarkon says, lowering his blade. “I’ve changed my mind.” 

Alfor looks up, mystified.

“I wanted to kill you at first. But that wouldn’t be the real punishment, would it? Being returned to what you only just lost, if one believes in that sort of thing. No...the far greater penance would be to live, knowing that you were the reason for the death of all that you loved. Only being able to watch as I use Voltron to conquer the rest of the universe.”

If Alfor’s eyes were horror before, they are utter dread now. “I...I can still stop you! Somehow I…” His voice trails off, lacking the energy to finish the sentence.

“Stop me?” Zarkon leans down and grins. “Alfor, you’re going to help me do it.”

“Never.” Alfor says, in a voice just above a whisper.

Zarkon chuckles. “Honerva may have lost her memory for now, but I’m sure in time we can put things right. With her help, we’ll twist you so far you’ll barely be able to remember your own name. But don’t worry, I’ll leave enough of you for the pain to remain.”

Alfor is speechless.

“Look on the bright side. You get to continue doing your duty as a Paladin of Voltron. And I’m going to make sure you’ll never be able to stop…”

Prime Reality - Now

Raimon carries an unconscious Allura down the landing pad of a shuttle. He steps out onto the soft soil of the altean colony. Zarkon and Lotor stand in the middle of a town square, with a small crowd of onlooking alteans on the periphery. At the precise center of the square is a metal post jammed into the ground, with a chain dangling from it's top. 

Raimon carries Allura over to the post, ignoring the stares of the onlookers. He lays her down so she sits with her back against the metal. Then, he reaches up and pulls down the chair to begin wrap around her wrists. 

As he does, Allura begins to blink and moan groggily. ‘

“Where…?”

Suddenly her eyes shoot open and tries to leap to her feet. Raimon shoves her back down, then locks the chain in place. 

“You!” She says in an accusatory tone. “You can’t...couldn’t…” Her voice loses its strength and trails off as she stares up at Raimon. Impassively, he pulls the chain taut, forcing Allura to her feet, with her arms stretched above her head.

“Oh, it's really him, Princess.” Zarkon chuckles. “But deep down, I’m certain you already know that.”

Allura gets a foul expression and averts her gaze. However, her eyes quickly find their way back to Raimon. The man does not meet her gaze, rather he doesn’t seem to look at anything in particular. His eyes are distant, almost dead.

“Well then, Princess. You wanted to see your people? Here they are!” Zarkon sweeps an arm across the alteans. 

Slowly, Allura tears her eyes away from Raimon to get her first good look at the alteans. They come in all ages, but elderly and children are the most common. All look back at her with some mixture of fear and uneasy. 

Allura smiles at them weakly. Many avert their gaze or shift uncomfortably.  

Lotor clears his throat. “Father do you think it entirely wise to do this? What if she ties to incite them to-”

“Is their faith in you so weak?” Zarkon asks immediately, “And if it is, what matters? You know how to maintain loyalty no matter what. I’m sure I’ve managed to teach you that much.”

“Y...yes, father.” Lotor says reluctantly. 

Zarkon smiles down at Allura. “Let her say whatever she wishes. It will not matter in the end. That is my purpose in bringing her here. To show her that our victory is inevitable.”

Allura scrowls, her posture and expression regains some of its original defiance. It is somewhat spoiled by her uncertain gaze occasionally drifting between Raimon and the alteans.

“I have work to be doing. Enjoy the stay, girl. Soon your friends will be joining you.” And with that, Zarkon walked away. Lotor followed shortly afterwards, only pausing briefly to shoot an uneasy glance at Allura.

Finally, Raimon turns to go.

“...I don’t care what reality you’re from.” Allura said suddenly. “My father...King Alfor would always fight to the bitter end to stop men like Zarkon! Especially to protect his people. If you’re my...if you’re Alfor, then I know there must be some part of you still fighting him!”

Raimon stops in his tracks. He stays there unmoving for a long moment. Then he says, “There is no longer any Alfor…only the servant of Zarkon. Only Raimon.”

He leaves. Allura watches him go, wilting. 

Eventually she forces herself to turn her gaze back to the still staring onlookers. She seems to regain a modicum of strength at the sight of them. She closes her eyes and takes a breath. 

When Allura opens her eyes, she has a smile on her face. It is a weak ragged, unconvincing smile. But a smile nonetheless.

“H-hello...my name is Princess Allura. I’m here to rescue you.” 

***

“Dammit!” Keith swears, slamming his fist into a wall. “We fell right into their trap!”

He and the other paladins are back inside the Garrison base. They are all either standing or sitting inside a living area. Sullen expressions are on all their faces, save Keith’s. His is one of unbridled rage.

“I can’t believe what a complete idiot I was!” He punches the wall again.

“Easy, Keith.” Shiro says gently. “This isn’t all on you.”

“The hell it isn't! I was in command, I had final say! This is my mistake! It's my fault they got Allura!”

“And do you think anyone else here would have made a different choice? It was a risk, yes. But at the time, it seemed a worthwhile one. Lance? Hunk? Pidge? Would you have made a different choice in Keith’s position?” 

“Probably not…” Lance admits.

Hunk shakes his head.

“It...seemed to make sense, risks notwithstanding.” Pidge says.

“And how about you, Shiro?” Keith retorts. “Would you have made such a colossal screw up? Would you have put her and everyone else in danger like that?”

“Keith...did you forget?”

Keith tilts his head in confusion.

“I did.” Shiro shrugges. 

Keith blinks, looking more confused.

“Back when I was leading Voltron, Allura and I infiltrated that ship to get information. I barely got out and she ended up captured.”

“...right.” Keith replies, embarrassed.

“So no, you aren’t the only one that can make bad calls. And this also isn’t the first time Allura’s been in a sticky situation. She’ll manage, she’s a paladin too. So with that in mind, what do you think we need to do?”

Keith takes a breath before responding. “...calm down and plan our next move. We need to get Allura back, but at the same time can’t go in half cocked. That’ll just lead to more mistakes.”

Shiro nods with approval. “Alright then, seems like you’ve got a handle on things.”

Keith smiles. “...thanks.”

“Anytime.”

The door opens on the far end of the room. 

“The Princess has been captured!?” Coran says marching in.

“I...yeah.” Keith replies.

Coran takes a breath and look as if about to rant but hesitates, then shakes his head and sighs.

“I suppose...that’s part of the job.” He says finally. “Really doesn’t do my stress levels any favors, though.”

“We’ll get her back, Coran.” Keith swears.

Coran nods slowly, then more quickly. “I know”

“Grand Regent!”

Keith cringes. He turns to see Skriel run inside, followed by the other galra commanders. 

“I only just heard what happened to the future empress! I swear to you that Urok, Erva, Mutava and myself will not rest for an instant until she is rescued! Even if it means laying down our lives! And by the stars if it comes to that, they will know that it was the mighty Skriel who-”

“Enough.” Keith sighes. “No ones going anywhere until we have a handle on the situation. Going in half-cocked isn’t going to help anybody. You guys will have your chance to help, just not yet.”

“...understood.” Skriel says, looking disappointed.

“And stop calling Allura the future empress!” 

. In spite of the situation, the other Paladins stifle snickers.

“Of course.” Skriel winks

“And stop winking!”

“Uh...right.” Skriel straightens. 

“Now...anyone have ideas on what to do first.”

“Well you could start by seeing the message we just received.” A new voice says.

All turn to see Admiral Sanda now at the door. “Seems like you’ve gotten yourself into quite the mess.”

“Yeah, well...what else is new?” Keith sighs. “Now what’s this message you’re talking about?”

Sanda pulls out a handheld device that projects a large holographic image in front of them. It shows Zarkon. 

“To this reality’s pitiful excuses for Paladins: Hello, it's me. Your proper ruler. I understand some of you are having trouble accepting that. It's understandable. Weak minds often have difficulty comprehending their betters. You will not bow without a fight. To that end…”

The feed changes to show a new subject. Allura chained to a post, in the center of the altean colony. The paladins all gasp.

“As you can see...your friend is waiting for you.” The feed switches back to Zarkon. “I dearly hope you don’t keep me waiting.”

With that the feed goes dead.

Keith's fists clench, then tremble.

“...the colony.” He says finally. “That’s where she is.”

“You and your mother went there, correct?” Sanda inquires. “Do you know a way in?”

“We got in once, but that doesn’t mean much. Lotor wasn’t there at the time, and this was long before Zarkon took over. I have no idea what kind of new defenses he’s added by now.”

“Well then it sounds like you’re back in the same position as before. Only this time the bait is far more enticing, and you can’t afford not to take it.”

Keith says nothing for several moments, apparently thinking. Then, his eyes widen and he straightens. 

“...we do have one person that knows both the colony and Zarkon better than anyone.”

The other paladins look confused then their eyes widen with realization as well.

“I think it's time we talked to Lotor. Our Lotor.”

***

“I know this must be hard to hear...but the man you serve is not who you think!” Allura exclaimes.

The alteans reply with angered boos. 

“We don’t want to hear your lies!” One woman shouts.

“Traitor!” Says another. 

“Please you have you listen to-” Allura tries to get in.

“Keep you mad ramblings to yourself!”

Allura continues to try to reason with the increasingly angry crowd. 

“I’m trying to help you quiznak it!” She eventually shouts.

“Help us by shutting up!” bellows an older man. 

She grits her teeth with frustration, but does not give up.

“Please! He’s using you for his war! He-”

But she is soon drowned out by the angry cries.

“Oh dear Princess, your foolishness would be comical were it not so pathetic.” A loud voice declares, breaking through the clamor.

The crowd opens a wide berth to reveal Prince Lotor standing behind, with Luca at his side. The former has a gloating expression. The later averts her gaze when Allura looks at her. 

“I must say, it was entertaining for the first hour, but it's really gotten quite dull.” Lotor says.

Allura sneers. “I see you finally grew a spine. And here I thought you might be too scared of what I had to say to these people you’ve been manipulating.”

Lotor scoffs. “I was, at worst, concerned for their welfare in the presence of such deceptive ideals. But my people are loyal to their very bones. You cannot break that with a few poorly constructed lies.”

“The only one telling lies here, is you Lotor.” Allura shoots back. “Or would you like to be the one to tell these people that you are an imposter?”

“Quit your slander of Lotor!” One altean hisses. 

Lotor chuckles. “Don’t let her provoke you.” He turns to face the crowd. “That goes for everyone. You only empower this woman by listening to her ramblings. Let her serve as an example, nothing more. Please go back to your duties.”

Reluctantly, the alteans mumble agreements and begin to disperse. 

Allura watches biting her lip with frustration. Lotor smiles with satisfaction before he too turns to go.

“...I wonder if Zarkon reigns you in the same way you just did with them.” 

Lotor freezes. 

Allura shakes her head. “No, on second thought, I’m sure he uses a much firmer hand on you.”

Moving like a blur, Lotor whirls around and strikes Allura across the face. Everyone is stunned. Even Luce blinks with shock. There is fury in Lotor’s eyes.

“You will not speak of things you know nothing about.” he says with barely-suppressed rage. 

Allura spits. “I don’t know why you continue to follow that vile man, father or not. You could always just kill him like our Lotor did.”

“Do not repeat that lie again!” He shouts.

“Why!?” Allura shouts back. “Are you so afraid of him that you can’t bear the thought of trying!? Or are you just terrified of what life would be like for you without him pulling your every string?”

Lotor pulls his hand back to strike again, unbridled fury on his face. Then, he seems to notice the staring crowd of alteans for the first time. Slowly, he lowers his hand and composes himself.

“...it's not worth it.” He spits out, before marching off.

Luca looks curiously between him and Allura. She shoots an uncertain look at Allura before running after Lotor.

The crowd remains for several more moments before they too, one by one, disperse. Finally, once alone, Allura sighs and slumps against the post.

***

High above it all, in a viewing station, Zarkon stares at a screen from which he watched the exchange.

“How...troubling.” He growls to himself.

***

Lotor, pilot of Sincline born of the main reality, sits alone in his cell. His glowing eyes stare at the blank wall opposite him. 

Suddenly, the door pulls open and Keith marches in, with Shiro and the other remaining Paladins. Lotor turns his head, but is otherwise unresponsive.

“I need your help.” Keith says simply.

“Isn’t that funny? Because I don’t need yours.”

Keith narrows his eyes. “We could make things better for you here. Nicer cell, anything you want.”

“Not interested.” Lotor waves a hand. “I’m quite comfortable here.”

“Zarkon has Allura.” Keith tries again.

“How unfortunate.” Lotor replies coldly.

“He’s keeping her captive at the altean colony. Your altean colony. Where he’s also been using them as living weapons.”

“...that too is unfortunate. But do you know what else it is?”

“What?”

“Not my problem.” Lotor turns his gaze back to the wall.

“I thought you said you wanted to help defeat Zarkon.” Keith says through gritted teeth.

“Maybe I don’t care anymore. Or maybe I just like seeing you feel what it's like to have the rug pulled out from under you.”

“Hard way it is, then.” Keith nods.

Lotor is looking up with confusion when Keith grabs him by the collar and shoves him against the back wall. Lance and Hunk move as if to stop him, but Keith waves them off, and they hesitantly step back. 

“You will remove your hand from me or I will remove it from your arm.” Lotor hisses.

“No, shut up. I’m going to talk and your going to listen!” Keith barks back. 

Lotor is surprised by the outburst, giving Keith all the time he needs.

Zarkon has Allura.  I am going to get her back. And right now you are the best chance of making that happen. I don’t like your Lotor. You’re a liar and a killer. But right now, I don’t really care about that, because frankly, I’m going to do whatever it takes to get the Princess back. If you don’t cooperate, the only difference that makes to me is that while I’m on the way to bring her back, I’ll make sure to stop and drop you into the nearest black hole. So how about you pick up what’s left of your ego, and stop pretending like you don’t want a chance to kill your dad a second time.”

Lotor stares down at the shorter boy for what seems like an eternity. Then, strangely, he smiles. It's a striking sight, with his new darker features.

“Remove your hand and we’ll talk.”

Keith lets him go and steps back. Lotor sweeps his gaze across the Paladins who all stare daggers at him. Lotor lets out a hollow chuckle.

“Seems you lot have more spine than I thought. Alright. I’ll help. If only to remove Zarkon’s vile hands from my precious colony. But I go free. That’s my price.

Keith hesitates. “...not until this is all over.”

The others look surprised at this but do not speak up.

“Fine. But I at least have to get out of this cell. I might have been lying about it's comfort.”

Keith nods curtly towards the door.

Lotor starts to move but Keith catches him on the arm. 

“You make me regret this and I really will drop you down a black hole.”

Lotor sneers in reply. “Threaten me again and see what happens.

Keith glares back but releases him. Lotor strides out of the cell, head held high, as if he owned the place.

“Oh yeah this is a greaaaat idea.” Lance remarks.

Pidge elbows him.

“What?”

Shiro eyes Keith. “You sure about this?”

Keith shakes his head. “Not really, but we’ve made our deal with the devil. Let’s see what he’s bringing on his end.”

***

Keith, the other Paladins, Lotor and their other allies conviene around a table in one of the Garrison’s briefing rooms. Lotor sweeps an unimpressed look across the room’s occupants. His eyes briefly meets Acxa’s but they turn away just as quickly. His gaze soon settles on the faces of the galra warlord commanders.

“Well now, I knew you were in league with the Blade of Marmora, but I did not realize that any real galra military commanders had joined your cause. Skriel I’m most surprised to see you here. Didn’t you want the throne for yourself but couldn’t make it to the Kral Zera?”

Skriel folds his arms and smirks. “Aye! I coulda gotten that throne if it hadn’t been for those pesky arganterian pirates. But that’s in the past now. I’ve the one man in the galaxy I can accept besides myself as leader, and that’s Grand Regent Keith Kogan!”

Lotor’s eyes widen and he turns back to Keith. “Grand Regent? My you’ve gotten far for a half-breed.”

“I don’t have any less galra blood than you.” Keith points out.

“True enough. But mine was royal. Do you really think you can hold onto the throne when your lineage is some earth-man and a turn-coat mother?”

Krollia flinches. Keith looks about to strike Lotor.

“Hey man!” Lance suddenly shouts, surprising both. “How about you shut up before I deck you myself!? Keith’s risking a lot asking you for help, but I’ll be honest, I’ve wanted to punch you since the day we met, so keep talking and why don’t ya see what happens?”

Both stare at Lance, dumbfounded. Keith regains himself first. 

“...thank you Lance, but that’s alright. He was only trying to provoke me after all.”

Lotor smiles again, but with less malice in it this time. “So you are capable of seeing subtly after all. Good. Zarkon will provoke you with far more than that, and with much larger stakes at hand.”

“Right. But word of advice. Don’t talk about my mom.”

“As you wish. Now, I assume Zarkon has contacted you? Perhaps leveled some kind of taunt or ultimatum?” 

Keith nods to Pidge who taps a key on the table and a hologram appears above. Lotor watches intently as a projection of Zarkon’s message plays. 

The message ends, and Lotor closes his eyes.

“...well?” Keith asks.

Lotor opens his eyes. “Bring up everything you have on the colony, and enemy movements around the Quantum Abyss.”

Kolivan steps forward and taps several keys. A holographic projection of the Quantum Abyss appears, with the colony specifically being magnified. Several galra vessels highlighted in red are shown in and around the Abyss.

“This is the best we can get for enemy movements in the area. Intel is limited as Zarkon has taken great efforts to compartmentalize everything. If we had more time we’d be able to get a clearer picture, but…”

“It doesn’t matter.” Lotor shakes his head. “I just needed confirmation.”

“Of what?” Keith asks.

Lotor frowns. “That this Zarkon is the same as my real father, that he thinks the same way. What you have here confirms just as much. I’d know those formations anywhere. It really is him. Now, Is all his military might held here?”

“Many of his forces are spread about to other locations, but the bulk of them seem to be here.” Kolivan reports. 

“There is one other location of significance.” Mutava speaks up. 

The blades look confused, which causes a smirk to form on Mutava’s lips.

“So you don’t know everything. How nice to hear.” he plugs a device into the table, and a new projection appears. It is of the teleduv, in space with several larger rings build around its circumference, and one smaller ring within it's center. Construction on the massive rings continue. Dozens of galra ships and silver robeast surround it. 

“The teleduv…” Kolvian muses. “We haven’t been able to get any information on it since the attack on the station. Haggar, or Honerva rather, cleaned house after the incident. How did you get this?”

“I have my sources.” Mutava shrugs. “You may work hard to insert spies in key positions, but I prefer to pay off the average engineer or workman. So much easier. Anyway, it seems that they conversely moved the teleduv after our little attack and have concentrated many of their robeasts there for protection. Unfortunately, I cannot speak to their intentions with the device.”

“I might have something later.” Pidge speaks up. “Those files we stole from the station should be done decrypting soon.”

“This is...concerning.” Lotor notes. “It always is when you don’t know what Zarkon is up to. But ultimately, this is irrelevant. For now our goal is retrieving All...The Princess. Anything else is a distraction.”

“Agreed.” Keith nods. “So, how do get past Zarkon and his forces?”

“Not easily. My father could be a fool at times, but he knew battle strategy better than almost anyone.” Lotor allows the barest hint of a smirk, which ends up looking more like a sneer. “But there’s no one in the universe who knows my father’s tactics better than me.”

“Can you outsmart him?”  

“Possibly. The Princess makes this...difficult. As long as he has her he will be able to manipulate you and force your hand into meeting him in battle. That is where he is strongest.”

“What about his weaknesses?”

“His arrogance. And his pride. He could have threatened to kill the Princess. It might not have worked, but he’d have lost nothing. But wants to beat you in battle. Show that he’s the strongest person in the universe. He needs to show the universe that, lest he shows even the slightest bit of weakness. But at the same time, it won't be so simple to get him to appear in person. Pride works both ways. He won't fight himself if he thinks the battle is above him. That’s what minions are for.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Ideally you would infiltrate the colony and snatch the Princess from under his nose. But that’s a great deal easier said than done. And he’ll be expecting you to do that.”

“We got in easy enough.” Keith nods to his mother.

Lotor scoffs. “That was when I controlled the colony. I had limited resources and  Its primary purpose was to keep people in, not out. The Quantum Abyss was supposed to be barrier enough for any outsiders. Apparently, that proved false. But this is far different. Zarkon will have countless ships guarding any approach vectors. That’s not to mention any upgrades on the dome’s security that he’s certainly made. Even if we somehow make it past all of that, I’m sure he’ll have at least a couple of traps inside the colony itself.”

“Again, I’m not hearing a plan.”

“Well I don’t exactly have much to work with here. Meeting Zarkon in force is suicide, but subterfuge is nearly as risky...” Lotor hesitates for a moment. “...there is one possible way…”

“Go on.” Keith urges. 

“It's...something I set up should something similar happen. A backdoor, if you will. A hidden transport tunnel connecting the colony to the far side of the planet. It was well concealed, so I doubt Zarkon has found it. With a good enough distraction, we might be able to slip a small team onto the planet, and circumvent all the dome’s security.”

“What kind of distraction?”

“Remember when I said my father wants to beat you in battle?”

“Yeah…”

“Well the one thing that might entice him to fight is all of you to bring an all out attack in your Lions, and whatever else you have. With him occupied, the planetary defenses might be thin enough to slip through.”

“Yeah let’s just ignore the part where Zarkon can form Voltron and we can’t.” Pidge says.

“With the Atlas and the Lions we might be able to hold out long enough.” Shiro points out.

“Alright.” Keith muses. “For the sake of argument, let’s pretend we do all that and meet Zarkon head on. THen we’d need to send in say...the Blades to do the infiltration and get Allura out. It's definitely risky but I suppose-”

“There...is a catch.” Lotor cuts in.

Keith sighes, but motions for him to continue.

“The tunnel will only open in response to my biometrics.”

“In other words…”

“I have to be on the mission.” Lotor said flatly.

“No.” Keith says firmly.

“It's the only way.” Lotor replies matter of factly.

“After everything you’ve done, you think I’d trust you with that? Trust you with bringing back her!?” 

“Keith,” Krollia steps in. “It's not as if we’re forced to sent him alone. We can keep him in line.”

“I don’t like it.” Keith shakes his head. “Even with Blades there, he could pull something. He knows that place better than anyone, how do we know this isn’t a trap of his own?”

“Do as you wish.” Lotor replies coldly. “I’m only telling you what I think is your best chance at retrieving the Princess. If you don’t like that, then maybe you can try your hand at fighting Zarkon without my help.”

The two stare each other down for several long, uncomfortable moments.

“...I need some air.” Keith finally says, before walking out of the room.

***

Allura remains chained to the post, now looking weary. It is now night at the altean colony, and besides Allura, there is not a soul in sight.

She looks up at the synthetic moon of dome, and sighs. 

“Father what would you do?”

An image of Raimon flashes in her mind.

Allura cringes and shakes her head.

“Must Zarkon ruin every good thing in this universe?”

She sighs and leans back against the post. She closes her eyes, as if to rest.

“...psst! Hey lady!” Someone whisper yells. 

Allura’s eyes shoot wide open. She scans her immediate surroundings, seeing nothing in the darkness.

“Down here!” The voice goes on.

Allura looks down to see a young boy standing right next to her. He has a curious expression on his face.

“...hello.” Allura says, with confused optimism.

  “Hi.” The boy waves nonchalantly. “So you’re supposed to be the bad guy, huh?”

Allura winces. “Is that what Lotor says?”

“Yeah.”

“And what do you think? Do I seem like a ‘bad guy’?”

“Lotor says bad guys can look nice.”

She sighs. “In that, I have to agree with him.”

The boy doesn’t reply, choosing to instead stare up at Allura.

“So...if I really am the bad guy, why would a nice boy like you be hanging around me? I could be dangerous.”

The boy merely shrugs. “Did you really mean what you said about Lotor? The part about him not being the same Lotor?”

“I did.” Allura says without hesitation. “...why? Do you think I’m right?”

Again the boy shrugs. He does a double take before leaning in to speak the next. “He...seems kind of different from before.”

“Different how?” 

“He doesn’t remember anybody’s names. Lotor used to know all of us. He also kinda acts more...I dunno, careful? Like he’s scared of something’. Old Lotor was never scared of nothin. And that’s not even mentioning his scary parents. Especially that Zarkon guy…”

The boy shivers. “And I know I’m not the only one that’s noticed it. The other kids agree with me. And when my parents don’t think anyone’s listening they talk about it too sometimes. They still worship and serve Lotor and everything, but they seem a little confused.”

“They should be confused.” Allura nods. “They’re being used by a very bad man. He looks like the Lotor you’ve known, but he is not him. He’s taking advantage of your trust and worship and using it for his own evil means.”

“Why would he do that?” The boy asks curious.

Allura gives a pained smile. “Because we alteans are capable of great things. We have so many gifts, but unfortunately there will always be people like him who want to exploit us...” Again, Raimon, Alfor’s face flashes in her mind. 

The boy looks down, uncomfortable. “My mom says that we used to have a whole planet to ourselves. That people used to look up to us. But we almost all got wiped out, and now this is all we got. And if it weren’t for Lotor we wouldn’t have even that.”

Allura nods carefully. “Yes I...suppose that much is true.”

The boy’s expression grows sad. “So, if we used to be so awesome, how come we’re like this now? All bunched up here, scared an’ hiding. At least the ones Lotor picks get to see what it's like outside. The rest of us just gotta sit and wait. If Lotor’s really been replaced with a bad guy, then what can we do? Seems like all we’ve done for a long time is get pushed around.” 

Allura’s eyes grow hard with determination. “What you do is stand up on your own two feet. Show them that we’re more than their pawns. All it takes to prove bad men wrong is to show them that we’re still willing to fight to do the right thing. That’s...something my father used to say.” She frowns, but slowly it grows back into a smile. “We’re a proud and noble people with a great history. How about acting like it?”

This makes the boy smile. “Ya know...you’re pretty nice for a bad guy.”

At that Allura chuckles. “I try.” She grows serious. “But be careful about talking about this. I don’t know what Lotor will do if he finds out, but certainly nothing good. Having courage doesn’t mean being careless.”

The boy nods quickly, face concerned.

“Man this is all so...scary. I just wish the old Lotor would come back. I bet he’d beat up all these bad guys.”

Allura is quiet. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. The boy looks up at her, confused. Staring down at him, Allura sighs and shakes her head.

“It's nothing. Just be careful, as I said.”

The boy nods again. 

Allura tilts her head in curiosity. “By the way, what’s your name?”

The boy grins. “I’m Ayden!”

“Nice to meet you Ayden. My name is Allura. I’d shake your hand but…” She shakes the chain.

Ayden chuckles.

“Ayden!” A distant voice calls. “Where are you!?”

Ayden flinches, and gets a guilty expression. “That’s my mom. Looks like she figured out I’m not in bed.”

“Well then, you better get home and back in bed, before she finds out where you’ve really been.”

The boy nods and starts running. “Night Allura!” He calls back.

“Goodnight Ayden.” She smiles back.

The boy disappears, leaving Allura alone again. 

This time, when she stares back up at the artificial moon, she is smiling.

 ***

Keith steps out into the night air, expression sour. He strides out onto the dirt ground, kicking up dust in his wake. He finds a decent-sized rock and plops down. He glances up at the night sky but his gaze quickly turns down to the dirt. 

Shortly there is the pitter-patter of feet behind. Keith stiffens and turns around. He relaxes when he sees that it’s Kosmo approaching.

“Hey boy.” Keith smiles as the wolf walks over to sit beside him. “Sorry I haven’t had much time for you lately, buddy.”

The wolf barks in agreement. Keith shakes his head, and starts scratching Kosmo on the top of his head. The wolf lays down and it's tail begins to wag as Keith continues his scratching. 

“We’re gonna be going back to the Quantum Abyss soon.” Keith explains. “I bet it’ll be nice to be home huh?”

The wolf predictably, does not reply.

“Then again maybe not. Was kind of a crazy place to try and survive in wasn’t it?”

Kosmo barks, and Keith cracks a smile. He shakes his head and looks up at the night sky.

“...quiznak. How did I get us in this mess. I could really use Allura’s advice right now. Isn’t that ironic?”

“Well, I’m no altean Princess…” Comes Shiro’s voice. “...but I’ve been known to give advice from time to time.”

Keith turns to see his mentor approach.

“This seat taken?”

Keith shakes his head, and scoots over. Shiro sits and the two are quiet for a moment. The only sound is Keith scratching Kosmo’s head.

“...be honest with me Shiro, am I screwing everything up?” Keith finally asks.

Shiro studies him. “Do you think you’re screwing everything up?” 

“I made a really bad call agreeing to go meet those alteans. Then I couldn’t stop Allura from getting captured. And now, the best plan I can come up with is to trust in the guy who tried to kill us less than a year ago. I’m trying to keep my hold on the situation, but it feels like everything’s spinning out of control.”

Shiro scratches his chin. “Well you asked me be honest, so I won't tell you that everything’s turning up roses. We’re in a rough spot, that’s for sure.” “You can say that again.” Keith agrees. “Trusting Lotor...I’m just terrified that this is going to be one more bad call. One more screw up.”

“Well Keith, it's not like you’re the only one in there. Kolivan, you mother, the other blades. If you can’t trust Lotor, you can at least trust them to handle him if anything goes wrong. You’re the leader of the team, so yeah a lot of the responsibility falls on you. But part of that is knowing when to trust the people under you with a task. You might be the head, but the rest of the body’s there for a reason.”

Keith sighs. “You’re right, as usual. I guess we just gotta hope Lotor isn’t completely making all this up.”

“Worst case scenario, we just improvise.”

“Yeah, that never goes wrong.” Keith smirks, shaking his head. 

They grow quiet again, as Keith begins staring at the stars again.

“You’re getting better at it.” Shiro says with a smile. 

“At what?”

“At showing how terrified you are.”

Keith stiffens. 

“Relax, it's normal. Every leader is scared that they’re doing the wrong thing and making a bad call. The key is not showing it, and you’re doing alright.”

“You still saw through me.” Keith replies scratching the back of his neck.

“I’ve got a bit of a knack for spotting stuff like that.” Shiro shrugs. “...so you’re really worried about her, huh?”

Keith hesitates, then nods his head. “...yeah. I know she’s probably fine and knowing her, already working on her own escape plan by now. But...it still sucks. Not knowing, I mean.”

Shiro pauses. “...yeah. It does suck.”

Keith laughs. “Really? No words of wisdom or guidance for that one?”

“Nah. Some things just suck. But that’s life. We’ll get past it.”

Keith nods with determination. “Yeah we will.”

Kosmo barks in apparent agreement.

Shiro looks down at the wolf and chuckles. “Sure would be nice if you could just use Kosmo to jump in, grab Allura, and jump out.”

“Yeah it would, ” Keith smiles. “But even he has limits.”

“Oh yeah?”

Keith nods. “Usually he needs line of sight, or has to have been there before. Limited distance too.”

“Ah well. Never is that easy, is it?”

“Nope.”

Keith gives the wolf one last scratch and stands up. 

“Well…I’ve wasted enough time out here.”

Shiro gets up and they both start walking back to the Garrison Base. 

After a moment, Keith smiles and shakes his head. “You know Shiro, I have no idea what I’d do without you.”

Shiro frowns. “You’d get by.”

“You kidding? I’d be completely lost.”

“Well you’d better figure it out.” Shiro’s frown deepens. “I may not always be here to give you advice...”

“Hey, quit talking like that.” Keith says serious. “And that’s an order.”

  After a moment Shiro shrugs. “Yes sir.”

“Now let’s go in there and pretend this plan isn’t as crazy as it really is. Because...that’s what leaders do?”

Shiro smiles widely. “Now you’re getting it.” 

***

Morning rises in the altean colony. Alteans begin to rise and go about their daily tasks. Allura still receives many dirty looks, but none try to engage her this time. The sun continues to rise and as it does Allura begins to pant. Her breaths start to grow ragged. 

That is until a short while later, when an elderly woman approaches her. The woman walks with a slow gait, age wearing heavy on her. She carries a basket in her hands. Strangely, she looks on Allura with a more curious than hateful expression. 

“Well...I’m not impressed.”

“...s-sorry?” Allura stutters, coughing.

“The way everyone talks about you, I figure you ought to have horns, scales and be able to breathe fire. Instead, I see a young girl strung up and left out to dry.”

Allura blinks with surprise. 

“You haven’t had anything to eat or drink have you?” The woman goes on.

“No…” Allura replies, uncertain.

The woman shakes her head and reaches into the basket. She pulls out a glass bottle of water which she opens holds up to Alllura’s lips. 

“Come on now, drink slowly.”

Allura draws from bottle, taking slow but long gulps. The woman pulls the bottle away, empty.

“...thank you.” Allura says genuinely.

The old woman shrugs. “What’s your name, girl?”

“Allura.”

“Well Allura, I’m Sahan.”

“Nice to meet you, Sahan.” 

Sahan studies Allura, tapping her chin. 

“So, Allura. How does a nice young girl like yourself end up here, tied to a post?”

“Why don’t you ask Lotor?”

“Because i’m asking you.” Sahan frowns. “Now don’t make me ask again, I may be old but I still know how to discipline an unruly child.”

Allura smirks at that, which Sahan doesn’t seem to like.

“I’m here because I was trying to help some alteans that I thought wanted to be free of Lotor. It turned out to be a trap and I was imprisoned here.”

“And why would you think someone would want to escape from here?”

“Because believe it or not, Lotor isn’t who you think he is. He’s an imposter who’s manipulating your affections so he can use you as pawns in his father’s war.”

Sahan studies her for a long moment. “...are you a loon?”

“I’m not crazy, fi that’s what you’re asking.”

The old woman chuckles. “Well you must think I’m one then, if you expect me to be able to swallow that story.”

“Oh? And you haven’t noticed anything strange about Lotor, since his return? Forgotten names? Unusual behavior? Bringing strangers into the colony? Fighting alongside the Galra Empire, the institution which displaced you all in the first place?”

Sahan says nothing, opting to pilfer through her basket instead.

“Let’s...pretend I think your words hold some weight. I didn’t say they do, but let’s...pretend. Who would that make you then? You’re altean, that’s for sure. But I’ve lived here as long as anyone, and I don’t recognize you. Where are you from? Are there other surviving alteans on the outside?”

“I’ll answer your last question first: Not really. To my knowledge only myself and one other survived, besides those from this colony. As for who I really am…” Allura straightens. “I am the last of the royal altean line. Daughter of King Alfor, I am Princess Allura. And whether you believe it or not, I am here to help my people.”

“Princess, huh?” Sahan says skeptically.

“Ask Lotor yourself, if you do not believe me.  I think he will admit to that much, though I’m certain he will call me a coward and a traitor to my people with the same breath.”

“Well if you really are the Princess then-”

“Sahan!? What are you doing over there? Don’t listen to that viper!” An older man calls over.

“Oh stuff it down your gullet, Merv! I can talk to whoever I please!”

The old man reddened at that, but Sahan paid him no heed and turned back to Allura.

“So girl, if you’re the Princess, then where have you been all these years?”

“My father, King Alfor sent my advice Coran and I away to protect the Castle of Lions and the secrets of Voltron from Zarkon. We slept for many millennia in stasis, until new Paladins arrived to help us begin to fight back against the Galra Empire.”

Merv, maintaining a foul expression, slowly walks over to the pair. He stops dozen feet or so back, and continued to look on disapprovingly, but said nothing more.

“So if that really is true then...you used to live on old Altea?” Sahan asks carefully.

Allura smiles and nods. “It was the most beautiful planet in the universe…”

As she continues to talk, more curious alteans approach. If questioned, Sahan always gives a curt reply and asks Allura to continue. However, as the number of alteans grows, the more they simply listen. She smiles and winks when she sees Ayden in the crowd. He returns the expression. 

“...and if the wind hit them in the right way, it sounded like those whispering trees were singing.”

The alteans are glued to Allura’s every word on the subject of Altea.

Sahan smiles wistfully. “My...grandmother told me about those. She used to tell me lots of stories of how grand old altea was.”

“It certainly was…” Allura remarks, equally wistful.

The two are silent for a moment. Then, Sahan seems to notice the crowd around them for the first time. She sweeps her gaze across them, and nods seeming satisfied by the number.

“Allura,” She says, growing serious, “there's something I’m going to ask you, and by stars you better answer me truthfully.”

“Alright.” Allura nods for her to continue.

Sahan takes a breath. “...many of our youths have gone to fight alongside Lotor in those monstrous contraptions. Many have not come back. Did you kill any of them?”

Allura’s eyes blaze. “You have been lied to. Those altean pilots are alive.”

The is a series of gasps and mumbles. Sahan puts up a hand silencing them. She studies Allura, as if searching for any sign of deception.

“...can you prove this?”

Allura frowns with uncertainty. However after a moment her eyes widen.

“I believe I can! If those alteans died in battle, there’s no way I would know any of their names, would there?”

“...perhaps.”

Allura draws in a breath. “Dramor, Lagmor, Gratva…”

As she rattles off names, many from the crowd let out sounds of shock and joy. 

“...Vatta.” Allura finishes.

  Sahan’s eyes widen but she otherwise remains guarded. 

“I’m going to need a little more than that.”

Allura thinks for a moment. “Well Gratva is a stubborn older fellow…”

“That he is.” Sahan nods. “What about Vatta?”

She considers. “...perhaps it was my imagination but there seemed to be something between her and that Dramor boy-”

“That’s her. For reasons I’ll never fathom she loves that fool-boy.”

  Sahan lets out a sigh of relief and smiles warmly. “Thank you.”

Allura nods in reply. 

“So you believe me then?”

“About them being alive? Yes. I said nothing about the rest of it.”

“And yet, this means that Lotor lied to you.”

“Or he was mistaken.”

Allura sighs longsufferingly. “I understand your hesitation but-”

“All of you are to return to your duties!” A voice bellows through the crowd. Luca walks through the crowd of alteans. They collectively look down as if in guilt. Except for Sahan, of course. Luca strides up to stare Allura in the face.

“You are not to speak to them.”

“Or what?” Allura replies.

“There will be consequences.” She turns back to the alteans. “Leave now.  Lotor’s orders. This woman’s propaganda is clearly affecting you all. Return to your duties.”

The alteans quickly disperse, with only a handful hesitating.

“Thank you, Allura.” Sahan says quickly. “For telling me that my granddaughter still lives.”

 “And thank you for listening.”

Sahan smiles. “Well after a certain young man vouched for you, I had to find out for myself.”

Allura looks over at Ayden and nods in appreciation.

“You will return to your duties.” Luca repeats.

“Luca I remember when you were in diapers don’t you talk down to me.”

Luca hesitates but ultimately remains her stance. Sahan gives Allura one last nod, before turning to walk away, with the remaining alteans in tow. Luce turns as well but stops,  shooting a curious look over her shoulder.

“You can’t really think we’ll turn on Lotor.”

Allura shrugs. Luca scoff and looks as if to leave, but hesitates once more. When she speaks next it seems to be with a great deal of effort.

“...why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you save me? When the trap was sprung, you threw me out of the way.”

“It...was the right thing to do.”

“I betrayed you, I’m your enemy!” Luca hisses. “That makes no sense!”

“That’s not the way I see it.” Allura says simply.

Luca stares at her, shifting from foot to foot. Then, throwing up her hands in frustration, she stomps off, leaving a smirking Allura behind.

***

When Keith and Shiro return to the briefing room, they are surprised to find a commotion among the room’s occupants. It seemed to somewhere between argument and discussion.

“What’s going on?” Keith asks, and all eyes turn to him. Then, they shift over to Pidge, who adjusts her glasses nervously.

“That data that we stole just finished decrypting. I’ve been spending the past few minutes going over it and trying to interpret what it all means…”

“And?”

Pidge sucks in a deep breath, and forces herself to  look Keith in the eye. “I know what happened to the Dark Paladin’s reality. I know why they came here.”

“Go on.” Keith says, uneasy.

“It's all detailed here in Honerva’s notes.” Pidge brings up an image of Voltron, with several energy readouts beside it. “Zarkon a machine unlike any other and what could be done with it is almost unfathomable to any sane person. Unfortunately Honerva and Zarkon aren’t sane. They thought that Voltron could serve as a conduit for all the universe’s supply of quintessence.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that they were going to open the floodgates of the quintessence field, with Voltron as the focal point. They were going to try and energize Voltron completely with all the quintessence in their universe.”

“Like what Lotor did with Scincline?” 

“No.” Lotor shakes his head. “What I did only soaked up a tiny portion of that sea of energy. Zarkon was trying to draw in the whole space-damned ocean.”

“But isn’t that...infinite?”

“Pretty much.” Pidge nods. “The amount of energy that would be funnelled into Voltron would effectively be endless. If Zarkon were to be inside Voltron when that happened assuming he survived...well he’d basically become all powerful. All the universe’s energy at his disposal. The notes say that Zarkon wanted to reshape the universe to his will, to make a reality where no one could ever resist his rule again.”

There is a collective shiver among the rooms inhabitants.

“Well...what happened?” Keith finally ask.

“Their calculations were wrong.” Pidge explains. “Nothing, not even Voltron could accept all of that energy at once. Voltron survived but the strain that trying to funnel all of that energy put on the fabric of space-time was unbearable. It actually frayed the fabric of their entire universe. They didn’t have much time after that. They used all the energy they were able to draw in to bore a hole into our reality, and the rest of it is history. The Darktron reality is just...dead. Torn to pieces.” 

The room grows silent. Keith swallows hard, and forces himself to ask the question on everyone’s mind.

“...do you know what they’re going to do next.”

Pidge looks sick. “Some of the notes were more recent. The reports there indicate that...they’re going to try again. ”

“They...they’d really risk destroying a second universe? After what happened the first time?”

“Yes, but they have a resource they didn’t have before: the alteans. They have a unique relationship with quintessence and the colony was pretty much a gold-mine for them. Honerva plans  open another breach to the quintessence field with the modified teleduv, and then use alteans in robeasts to filter the flow of quintessence, before in turn passing it off to their Voltron. With enough of the alteans she thinks she manage the massive flow of quintessence this time.”

“Is she right?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. The amount of math here...I could spend years going through it all.”

“So in other words, we have two nightmare scenarios. We just don’t know which one is most likely.”

“That’s pretty much it.”

Keith closes his eyes and sighs. When he opens his eyes, they are hard as stone.

“Then I don’t think I need to tell anyone in this room that failure is not an option. We will not let this happen to our reality. We’re going to stop Zarkon, and that starts with getting Allura back. We’re gonna need her to form Voltron and kick Zarkon and his cronies back down the hole they crawled into our reality from.”

He turns to Lotor. “We’ll do it your way. What do you need?”

“A ship. Fast one, with stealth.” 

“Done.”

“And, whether I like it or not, I suspect I’ll have some company.” Lotor’s eyes flicker over to the blades, Acxa in particular.

“That’s right.”

“Then the only other thing I need is form you, is to distract Zarkon.”

“I think we can manage that.” Keith nods, he sweeps his gaze across the allied leaders of the Coalition. “Any question.”

There are none.

“Good.” His eyes narrow. “Let’s go get our Princess back.”

[rosesisupposes]

"Dedication has no reward." with whatever ship you think works best?

ROYALITY

Aka, this is penance for hurting all the boys recently. Prepare yourself for some Royalty Royality

Prompt Tag

word count: 1,924

pairing: Royality

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

reader tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty and of course, @notveryglittery

read on ao3

Crown Prince Patton, His Royal Highness and heir to the kingdom of Solarya, was a very friendly man. He thrived on the days he went out to meet the people of the kingdom, when he rode or walked through the markets and greeted his future subjects as they went about their normal errands. The Knight-Captain of his personal guard, Sir Roman, had his hands full on those days, keeping the prince safe without cutting him off from the public. The balance worked itself out as a loose ring of guards and Roman right by Patton’s side, alert and ready to counter any threat. But being there to watch him work was always distracting. The prince was raised in luxury, never having had to do errands or work for a living. Instead of creating distance, this difference created an opening. Patton would ask fishmongers how the catch had been and listen with interest and attention as they described weather and sea patterns. He nodded sagely as clothing merchants demonstrated the difference of cheap and well-made cloth, admired the qualities of produce as farmers burst with pride, and stopped to smell and compliment the color of a bouquet of peonies from the flower sellers. Every walk or ride through town brought new interactions. The earnest interest and validation he showed were why the people of the capital city were utterly charmed by their prince.

They weren’t the only ones.

One sunny morning, as Prince Patton walked through a wide open square, a tiny form dashed in front of him. The prince almost tripped, but caught himself as the toddler crashed into a guard’s leg. The little girl looked up, eyes huge.

“Hello, little miss!” Patton said gently, kneeling to her level. “I’m Patton! What’s your name?”

“I’m Val,” she squeaked out, staring warily at the armored men around her.

“Good morning, Val! Are those flowers I see?” the prince asked.

A gap-toothed grin spread as the child held up a fistful of daisies, half-woven into the beginnings of a crown. “I’m helping Mama,” she explained.

“And I’m sure you’re doing a great job,” Patton said warmly. “Where is your mama? Is she close?”

The girl placed her flowers on her dark hair as she pointed past the circle of guards. A woman with matching hair and similar dimples hovered there anxiously. Roman, as the closest, turned and bowed.

“Greetings, madam. Is this lovely young lady your daughter?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry, she knows she’s not supposed to be running away from me.”

Patton took Val’s hand and guided her to her mother. “Not a problem, my lady. I’m glad Val ran into us.”

“Oh my goodness gracious, Prince Patton!” the woman exclaimed, dropping into a deep curtsy. “I truly apologize-“

“There’s no need, mistress,” Roman interrupted, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Prince Patton wishes only to ensure that your daughter is well and happy. His Highness could never be inconvenienced by meeting such a charming subject and her lovely mother.”

A blush spread across the flower seller’s golden cheeks as she took her daughter’s hand and led her back to her stall, dipping one more curtsy as she went.

Back at the castle, Patton flopped onto a window seat as Roman took his regular place by the door.

“Knight-Captain? Roman?” he called.

“Your Highness? How may I assist you?”

“Oh, nothing, I just- what you said at the market today.”

Roman frowned. “Did I err in any way, Your Highness? I did not mean to offend.”

“No, no offense whatsoever!” Patton said, sitting up straight. “You, you just said a really nice thing to that flower seller, Val’s mother. About me and how much I care for my people.”

Roman willed the heat in his cheeks to not show through as he replied, “Was that not my place? I apologize-“

“No, I - I was glad to hear it. You didn’t need to reassure her, but you did. And you- so many people here,” Patton featured to the castle around them, “they think I’m wasting my time when I try to spend time with the commonfolk. They tell me it’s beneath me. But you- you were smiling. You think it’s a good thing?”

Roman hesitated, but nodded. “I do, Your Royal Highness. I don’t believe there is anything wrong with a ruler knowing more about those they rule over. I think the way in which you treat the folks at market is admirable.”

Patton smiled wide. “Thank you, Sir Roman! It means a lot to hear that. But, um. If you’d like- you can just call me Patton. If we’re not around my father or his advisors, of course.”

Roman was sure his blush was showing now. “I- wouldn’t it be rather improper?”

“Ugh, you sound like my father’s Grand Vizier. ‘Consorting with commoners is improper,’ ‘Napping during council meetings is improper,’ ‘Making shadow puppets in the torchlight is improper.’ He’s no fun whatsoever,” Patton grumbled.

“Sounds like he’s a party im-pooper,” Roman said before he could stop himself. He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, blushing a deep red. But to his surprise, the prince was staring at him with shining eyes of delight.

“Sir Roman, you make such witty jokes and you’ve been holding out on me?”

“My role is to protect you, Your Highness. Not to be chatty.”

Patton’s expression drooped. “Oh. Yes, I see. I wouldn’t want to distract you from your duty.”

“Your Highness, I- I didn’t mean that I didn’t want to tell you jokes, I just wanted you to know why I haven’t before. Even if it is improper, I would like to be your friend as well as your guard.”

The prince softened. “I would like nothing more, Roman.”

“Nor would I, Your Hi- I mean, Patton.”

Roman had already been a constant presence at his prince’s side ever since his appointment when Patton came of age, but the change in Patton’s mood was now obvious to most residents of the castle. Let his father think it was a determination just to be a good student and ruler- he knew it was from having a guard and companion as delightful as Sir Roman.

Soon, Roman had perfected the art of imperceptibly whispering in Patton’s ear during grand receptions and banquets and meetings, murmured jokes and wicked nicknames for the many tedious advisors and foreign dignitaries. Patton quickly learned to conceal his giggles, laughing on the inside alone. But Roman could tell, in tiny shifts and tapping fingers on the arms of his throne, that Patton was entertained, and felt the glow of pride all the same.

Not quite four months of their first-name-basis had passed when another morning found them in the market. It was spring, almost the spring festival, and the courtyards and squares were filled with the heady perfume of flowers. Patton walked with his ring of loose guards as he greeted vendors and merchants and shoppers. He stopped by a flower cart, admiring the colors and wreaths.

“Oh, look at the lovely contrast here, of the light blue and red together,” he said, brushing the soft petals of some hydrangeas.

“Thank you sir- oh! Your Highness!” the seller exclaimed. It was the same one they’d run into months ago, and a wriggling head underneath the tablecloth that revealed itself to be Val confirmed it.

“My lady, it is wonderful to see you and Val again,” Patton said with a smile. “I don’t believe I got your name last time we met.”

“It’s Teresa, Your Highness, sir,” she said breathlessly, hands twisting in her apron strings.

“A pleasure, Mistress Teresa. Your handiwork is stunning,” the prince said gallantly. “Is there significance to these flowers?”

“Hydrangeas are used to represent heartfelt feelings, Your Highness. And gratitude, for being understood.”

Patton smiled softly at the light blue flowers that so well matched his personal crest and the livery his guard wore. “And the roses?”

“They’re LOVE!” Val cried happily from behind the stall.

Teresa smiled and smoothed her daughter’s hair. “That’s right, sweet pea. Red roses for romantic love.”

Patton leaned forward to bury his face in the lovely scents. Roman edged closer to the stall, watchful as ever. As the prince drew back, his expression was soft as he contemplated the blooms. Roman found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the sweet smile playing across the royal’s lips. Patton’s light blue eyes suddenly met his, but the expression didn’t change.

“They match you, Roman,” Patton said.As Roman’s mind suddenly started racing with implications, he continued.  “The blue and red match your uniform.”

Roman felt an unavoidable blush rising as he nodded. It was true- he wore Patton’s personal livery and the red sash that denoted him the leader of the guard. That was surely all the prince had meant.

But that night in Patton’s chambers, the prince asked Roman to sit with him.

“Sir Roman, I feel I should apologize for the position I put you in today.”

“‘Sir Roman’? Did I do something wrong that you’re using my title again? You know you may always use just my first name,” the knight said warmly.

The prince ducked his head. “No, you haven’t done a thing wrong. I fear that I have, though. Earlier, in the market - I didn’t intend to embarrass you, or put you on the spot. I know that as your liege, I have an obligation to not make your service uncomfortable in any way, and I failed in that. I hope you can forgive me.”

Roman stared at his prince, confused. “Patton, in what way have you failed? I’ve never been uncomfortable around you - indeed, these past months have been some of the most enjoyable since I was but a boy on my mother’s farm.” He felt the lightest flush spreading over his cheeks as he added, “I find myself often forgetting that you are my liege rather than a friend of whom I am excessively fond.”

Patton looked up into Roman’s warm brown eyes. “I… feel the same way, Roman. I thought, today, with the flowers, that I was being too obvious. Heartfelt feelings of gratitude, and… love.”

Roman felt his breath catch in his chest. “You… you love me, too? I wasn’t just imagining it?”

Patton nodded, fully blushing now. “You feel the same way?”

“I hardly dared dream that it could ever be requited, dearest Patton,” Roman said, taking the prince’s hand in his. “Your kindness towards your people, your humility despite your position, the light in your eyes when you’re able to make someone smile… how could I not fall utterly and entirely in love?”

After a moment of hesitation, Patton lifted their entwined hands to kiss Roman’s. “And you, sweet knight, who cares for the soldiers in your command as you would yourself, who does his best to serve justly and well, who sees me as a man, not just a royal - is it any wonder I’ve become infatuated with you?”

Roman cupped Patton’s face, and slowly leaned in, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss that transformed them both into red-faced balls of giggles. Patton rested his head on his knight’s shoulder, a smile on his face.

“Are you sure you don’t get tired of me, my love? Spending every waking hour at my side?”

Roman kissed the top of Patton’s curly-blonde head. “Never, my sunshine. When my mission is to ensure no harm comes to you, there is no limit to how many hours I will gladly spend on guard. Dedication has no reward. Nor does it need one, not when it means I get to spend time with you.”

[jbuffyangel]

Wait and Hope: Arrow 7x07 Review (The Slabside Redemption)

Sometimes I wish they wouldn’t hype episodes. Inevitably, the hype raises my expectations no matter how hard I try to keep them reasonable or I simply disagree with the opinions of other reviewers. “Slabside Redemption” is not a taunt thrill ride or show defining episode as some have described it.  Events unfold as expected, with a few notable exceptions. It doesn’t make “The Slabside Redemption” a bad episode, but my mind wasn’t blown either.

The scene worth watching for, and quite frankly fast forwarding to, is the one at the end.

Source:  smoakmonster

Let’s dig in…

Oliver Queen

Oliver is going to be released in 6 hours! 

Oliver tells the guard, “Beautiful day,” because he can’t stop himself from being a snarky little bastard. I love it. It also brings the prison arc full circle. 

"Beautiful day” marked the hopeless and repetitive nature of prison life.  Now, Oliver can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Soon he’ll be free. For the first time in a long time, it is truly a beautiful day.

Source: @arrowdaily

Oliver spends his remaining time in Slabside wisely. He tells Stan the Fan where to stick it.  

Eh… maybe this isn’t so smart. I should have been more worried about Stan the Fan!

There’s a bizarre morality debate between the two men. Stan argues he was simply doing what the Green Arrow would do by killing Dunbar.  The Green Arrow does not kill innocent people, but Stan quickly counters with the men Oliver injured to get to level two. Dude, he gave them each a scratch on their shoulder. Why is everyone making that such a thing? They probably needed a total of ten stitches each. It certainly doesn’t equate to killing someone. 

Stan tells Oliver he became a murderer inside of Slabside. He was an innocent man, but prison changed him into something much darker.

Oliver: It didn’t change me.

Hold your horses there cupcake. 

Stan is a few paper plates short of a picnic. I’ll give you that, but prison has absolutely changed Oliver and not merely in a scarred-for-life-PTSD way. I’m not saying Oliver has to learn, hug, and grow with One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest here, but let’s not disregard a seven month character arc. It’s depressing otherwise. I need Oliver to come out of this enlightened in some way.

Oliver promises Stan he will spend the rest of his life in prison and I will be abusing this gif forevermore.

Source: @callistawolf 

Oliver is counting the hours until he’s free. It looks like he’s mentally willing the world to turn faster around the sun, but he’s not finished making his rounds yet. He breaks up with Brick and Sampson next. They don’t take it well, but hahaha SUCK IT!

Then, he visits Turner and apologizes. Oliver said “I’m sorry.” THY NAME IS CHARACTER GROWTH! But sure, prison hasn’t changed you, honey. 

He promises to get help from A.R.G.U.S. and Lyla for Turner.

Turner: You think I’m a criminal and criminals belong behind bars, isn’t that right.

Oliver:  I think years ago, you saved Lyla’s life. Now, I don’t know if you can be that kind of hero again, but I think you deserve the chance to try.

I don’t want to throw the baby out with the bath water and say criminals don’t belong behind bars. They absolutely do, but there are varying degrees of punishment. Our justice system is imperfect and the punishment doesn’t always fit the crime. Slabside taught Oliver to see the grey in a world that was once black and white. Oliver is somewhat responsible for Turner being in solitary and he wants to make amends. It would have been very easy for Oliver to turn his back on Turner, walk out those gates, and never think of him again. But that’s not who Oliver Queen is.

Sometimes all we need is one person to believe in us. Turner has shown there is goodness inside of him – otherwise Lyla wouldn’t be alive. What he needs is a push in the right direction. 

Source: @callistawolf

Oliver’s face is all Turner can see through the open slot in his solitary confinement door. The light is beaming from Oliver to Turner. The sun illuminates an unseen path. Oliver’s determined, “I’ll make this right,” is the little push Turner needs. For the first time, he has something to hope for.  #FreeTurnerin2019

Source:  olivergifs

Oliver sits patiently in his cell, the sun beaming down on him, as he reads the final page of The Count of Monte Cristo.  Here’s the last part of the passage Oliver was reading:

“Gone,” murmured Valentine; “adieu, my sweet Haidee—adieu, my sister!”

“Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?” said Morrel with tearful eyes.

“Darling,” replied Valentine, “has not the count just told us that all human wisdom is summed up in two words?—’Wait and hope.’”

Source:  olivergifs

Oliver’s journey is closely tied to the Count of Monte Cristo’s journey. It’s not a coincidence this is the book Oliver has been reading in prison.  

The Count is Edmond Dantes, a man betrayed by those he loved. He was wrongfully imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. When Edmund finally escaped his hellish prison he uses all his acquired power and fortune to exact vengeance upon those he believes deserve it – almost like he was God’s own hand. In fact, Monte Cristo believes he is righteous in his pursuit of vengeance.

Oliver’s journey also began with vengeance. He believed it was his duty to dole out punishment to those who had failed Starling City. He decided who lived and who died, much like the hand of God.

The Count’s final words are a rejection of his previously held beliefs. He’s telling his friends to wait for Judgment Day because there is only one person who can truly judge a person’s soul and that is God. Therein lies the hope. We needn’t be judge and jury of our fellow man. God will determine the good from the bad. We must simply be good people, trust in God, and wait for the day justice is bestowed upon us.

The easier way to understand this comes from one of my all time favorite movies Rudy.

“Son, in thirty-five years of religious study, I’ve come up with only two hard, incontrovertible facts; there is a God, and, I’m not Him.” (Father Cavanaugh, Rudy)

The story of The Count of Monte Cristo is one of redemption. All of his years of pain and suffering made Edmond into an angry man hell bent on revenge. He loses faith in God, but in the end is transformed by his suffering. He can see good has come from it and it deepens his faith in God.  

The Count of Monte Cristo is a very Christ like story. God sends his only son, Jesus Christ, to redeem all of humanity.  Christ does not save us by war or vengeance. Christ takes all of our sins upon His shoulders and suffers an unimaginably painful death for our redemption.  But good comes from His suffering. We are saved. We will spend eternity basked in God’s love because He sacrificed His only son for us. That is how much we are loved by God.  

Our life on Earth will not be without suffering.  Suffering is painful and awful, but it can also teach us. It can reveal truth what may have otherwise gone unnoticed. We are like steel being melted and remolded when we suffer. Hopefully, we come out stronger than we were before and with a deeper understanding of how God suffered for us.

As I often say, superheroes are Christ like figures. I know many of us were frustrated Oliver went to prison. Oliver deserved prison the least when compared to the Newbies.  This is exactly why Oliver is a hero. This is why he is the Christ like figure. Oliver took all the sins of his team upon his shoulders and suffered for them, so they could be saved.

Source: @andjustforthismoment 

However, Oliver is not coming out of Slabside unchanged. He is learning people are not black and white. He cannot be judge, jury and executioner because none of us know the truth of a person’s soul. That kind of judgment is for God alone.

Diaz: How does it feel playing God?

Oliver once felt righteous in his pursuit of vengeance.  It even evolved into a kind of heroism, but one where he determined who lived and who died. The suffering Oliver experienced inside of Slabside made him a more compassionate person. He no longer sees criminals as evil, but as human. Given how he misjudged Turner, Stan and even Black Siren, Oliver no longer feels confident determining the measure of a person’s soul.  There is a God and Oliver is not Him. Nor does donning a mask make him God.

Oliver suffered greatly inside of Slabside, but it also gave him a moral code.  He stopped abuse inside the prison and maybe even saved a man’s soul. Hopefully, Oliver learns from his mistakes and is a better husband when he returns home. He has also served penance for any of his remaining sins. Good came from Oliver’s suffering.

The reason Oliver is on the final page of Count of Monte Cristo isn’t merely because this is his final day in prison. Oliver is renouncing vengeance and judgment just like Edmond Dantes did at the end of his journey. It is a more hopeful outlook on humanity and will make Oliver a better man. It will make him a superhero. Superheroes, at their core, are Christ like figures offering light and redemption to the people they have sworn to protect.

“Wait and hope” are instructions for how Oliver should live his life going forward. It was Felicity and Diggle who gave Oliver hope for his own redemption. Now, he must take it a step further. He will find hope in the possibility of redemption for all. This will only make his light shine brighter and the Green Arrow will become a beacon to Star City. Saving Star City will take time and patience, but the city is never lost as long as Oliver has faith. The Green Arrow will always be Star City’s deliverance and salvation. *cough*flash forwards*cough*

But the Green Arrow will not be a judge, but rather a steward of justice. This gives Oliver a freedom he’s never had before. A weight has been removed from his shoulders. The people of Star City will determine punishment in this life and God will judge in the next. Oliver simply must wait for those days to come.

THE END! Kidding. We still need to slug our way through another 42 minutes of television or if you prefer just fast forward. My feelings won’t be hurt.

The only real upside to the phone conversation between Diaz and Oliver is the Dragon is forced to speak in a softer tone, so I don’t need to take migraine pills from all the screaming. 

Unfortunately, he’s unintelligible when speaking softly. It’s more a mumble than a whisper. I may have Nancy Drew’d an explanation for why this actor yells every line. Did anyone else notice how Kirk Acevedo wiggles in between every pause for dramatic effect? Maybe the Dragon has a nervous tick.

Oliver beats the shit out of the glass panel after Diaz threatens Felicity and William for the 200th time. 

Source: CW Arrow

Oliver going all gorilla man whenever the wifey and child are in danger will never stop being hot. 

Source: @bindy417

Can we give the man some props? Beating his way through that glass is not an easy task.  If only he could have done it shirtless. For science, of course.

Guard: Slabside is a level 4 supermax facility. We have 50 officers on duty, each one of them a trained professional.

This whole speech is laughable. I’ve seen more restricted movement at Target. Oliver wanders wherever the hell he wants in a Level 4 supermax, but the guards are totally on it.

Per usual, the guards are no help so it is time to MacGyver this shit. Oliver is seriously breaking out his cell with a lighter and gum. I love you man. Never change. 

What’s even more remarkable is Oliver always had the ability to escape, but he chose to remain in prison. That’s superhero level in my book.

Typically the bad guys come at Oliver one at a time because they are idiots. At least Brick and Sampson have the brain capacity of a wild turkey, so they attack him in unison. But then they cheat by spraying mace in Oliver’s eyes. It gives Turner an extremely awesome entrance and save, however.

Oliver slices Sampson’s femoral artery to stop him from helping Brick in his fight with Turner. Some may say this is evidence Oliver is still killing. I think it shows the opposite. He tells Sampson he will bleed out in six minutes. Sampson is forced to abandon Brick to save his own life. If Oliver wanted Sampson dead he would have A) just killed him or B) let Sampson bleed out. These shifts in tactics during combat are important because they highlight the shifts in Oliver’s morality.

Turner: There’s no “we.” I saved your ass so you could get me a deal with A.R.G.U.S. Doesn’t mean we’re some kind of team.”

Pretty much everyone immediately accepts their Team Arrow offer and the subsequent mask that goes along with it, regardless if they are ready for it or worthy of it. Turner rejecting Oliver’s “team up” offer is AMAZING. Take your mask and shove it Queen. I’m dying.

Oliver: You said I was wrong about you. You said you changed. Prove it.

Turner may not want a mask, but he does want redemption and Oliver is going to make him earn it. (If only he could apply these principles to the Newbies!) Simply because Oliver can recognize the moral grey in criminals does not mean they get a free pass (side eyeing Bl*ck S*ren so hard right now). 

Criminals must still pay for their crimes. If they are going to be “redeemed” then they must be willing to pay penance.

After kicking ass and saving guards, Oliver separates from Turner to find weapons. Stan the Fan is there and injects Oliver with something. That little, sniveling motherfucker. Oliver collapses and WE ARE IN THE FREAKY NOW! 

Stan is way more terrifying than Diaz has ever been. This is like something out of Fatal Attraction. 

Even Oliver’s soothing voice as he tries to calm down this walking padded cell is unnerving. 

Stan swears he’s done nothing wrong, but it’s a little hard to believe with his crazy eyes and knife waving. 

Prometheus was a boring villain until they unmasked him and Josh Segarra could unleash the madness. 

Brandan Fletcher’s performance feels similar in that regard. Oliver is gonna have nightmares about this guy. I sure am.

Turner breaks down Oliver’s Slabside life lesson as they prepare for battle.

I love when Arrow speaks the words I write in my reviews. Never gets old. Always nifty. 

Here’s the thing about Arrow - they will always tell you what the lesson is. They can’t help, but spell it out eventually. Sometimes there is a long wait though. I’m saying this because we want to know what’s going on with Diggle and the explanation is coming eventually. We just have to wait and hope.

And thus, we arrive at the final big showdown between Oliver and Diaz. We made it fandom. This narcissistic, screaming blow hole will be off our television screens soon. 

The only way the writers could make Diaz a viable threat is to give him super strength. It’s the only reason Diaz lasts more than five seconds with Oliver. Unfortunately, little gimmicks like super strength don’t automatically solve a problematic character. Malcolm Merlyn, Slade Wilson and Adrian Chase were all scary without super strength. Ricardo Diaz is a crappy Big Bad and the best thing for Arrow to do is to remove him from our televisions screens for a looooong time. Hopefully, we never see him again.

I never move above moderately irked whenever Diaz is on screen just because I find him so boring. 

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

However, when he ripped up the picture of Felicity and William I yelled at my television, “NOW YOU MUST BURN IN HELL FOR ALL ETERNITY.”

Diaz tells Oliver Felicity tried to kill him and held a gun to his head. 

Oliver gasps and is all, “She would never!” 

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

Me: 

Did Oliver miss Season 5? He was present for it, so I’m not sure how he can just disregard the possibility of his wife having a dark side. He literally witnessed it. Does Oliver think he married Snow White or something?

If Billy’s death, who was her boyfriend for all of five minutes, was a sufficient vengeance trigger for Felicity, then what does Oliver think she’s going to do if she loses both her husband and son? 

Lord, I know this man is a basic pine tree, but he tests me.

Also, why does Oliver care that Felicity held a gun to Diaz’s head and threatened to kill him? She obviously didn’t, so chillax, but more importantly they are in the threatening villains business. Did he think his wife was going to stop Diaz by taking him out for tea?

Oliver putting Felicity on a pedestal will make it harder for him to reconcile some of her actions while he was in prison, which is obviously the point. The writers are mining a little more drama out of the situation even though Oliver has to ignore all of Season 5 to react this way. He may be able to see criminals in grey, but his wife is another story.  She is forever in the good box. Felicity Smoak is queen of the good box. Oliver worships her box.

Yeah, it sounded dirty the minute I wrote it. I am aware, but decided to leave it as is. You’re welcome.

Diaz twists the knife in a little more..

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

This grates on me because Felicity clearly told Diaz he’s the one who made her all dark, twisty and murdery. Yes, I know he’s lying on purpose, but everything about this guy bugs me.

Source: arrowdaily

Thankfully, Oliver finally stabs Diaz with a pair of scissors. Did you see how hard that bastard went down? I think Oliver took about 300 punches, kicks and multiple stab wounds from Diaz. He stabs that howler monkey once and BAM! Bitch goes down.

Just so we’re clear, Oliver did not kill Diaz. He thought about it, but he did not do it. If Oliver wanted Diaz dead then he would be dead. Oliver temporarily disabled him, so he could lock him up in a cell. They very specifically show Diaz moving, so we know he is not dead. Oliver held to his code and I am thrilled.

Oliver gives The Count of Monte Cristo to Turner in hopes it can give him the same answers it gave Oliver. He takes his beloved picture, with Slabside burning all around him, and leaves. 

This is not the first time Oliver has left an island on fire. Once again, he faced purgatory and became a better man. However, unlike Lian Yu, Oliver has retained his humanity on Slabside. He understands his emotions are strengths. Instead of shutting down, Oliver clung to everything good inside of him. Love didn’t make him weak. The love Oliver has for his wife and child helped him survive. If anything, his time in Slabside has made Oliver an even more compassionate human being.

“After defeating the enemy, surviving death and finally overcoming his greatest personal challenge, the Hero is ultimately transformed into a new state, emerging from battle as a stronger person and often with a prize.” (X)

Our hero has faced yet another ordeal, with enemies and allies alike, and came out a stronger person. Oliver Queen has earned his reward: FREEDOM. (This shot is such a Shawshank Redemption homage. We’re only missing the rain.) He emerges from the darkness of Slabside into the light of day.

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

And there she is.  “Wait and hope” is here just as Dumas wrote.

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

His beloved Felicity Smoak is waiting for him, just as she promised. 

And Diggle? I have to say I am surprised John is there. We can debate whether or not he deserves to be there, but it feels more about Oliver than it is about Diggle. It’s important to Oliver that Felicity and Diggle are both there. 

The only two who matter are the two who fought for his soul for years. Oliver is the man he is today because of their love. Felicity and Diggle should both be there to greet Oliver after his survives Slabside with his soul intact. It is their love and lessons that taught him how after all. It is disappointing Diggle didn’t fight for Oliver’s freedom more and I’m still super ticked at him. However, Diggle’s behavior the past seven months doesn’t erase his impact on Oliver’s life the past seven years.

“Look, no offense, but the old Green Arrow, he wasn’t the best. He saw the world in black and white. But now you – you know there’s grey out there too. Maybe that makes you a better hero.”

There’s another reason too. Oliver has finally become the kind of hero Felicity and Diggle need now (particularly Diggle).

Felicity is horrified by Oliver’s condition, but she doesn’t hesitate walking towards him. 

Oliver kept his promise too – he came back to her.

They have both fought for this moment for so long. They cannot wait another minute. Oliver offers his hand; his arm outstretched waiting to hold her. 

Felicity takes it and carefully caresses Oliver’s face and scars like she’s done so many times before. 

It’s when Oliver feels her hand on his face that he knows this is real. He is free. 

Oliver closes his eyes and exhales, a relief flooding through his body. 

Felicity is overcome with joy, worry and relief. She too feels the weight lift as they kiss. 

The time and separation vanish as they are finally able to hold each other. It is a moment of peace after months of war. 

The whole world melts away as Oliver and Felicity give themselves a moment to stand in the sun and love one another. Like Edmond Dantes, Oliver is walking off this island with the only things he cares about.

 Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

Stray Thoughts

Umm… where’d Diggle go? The camera panned away and he vanished. This blooper may beat leaving electrocuted Roy on the street in Season 3.

I fail to understand why the inmates are more preoccupied with beating the crap out of the guards rather than escaping, but logic isn’t always Arrow’s thing.

I know he’s the Green Arrow and all, but nobody recovers from mace that quickly.

“Oh my God, you’re shawshanking out of here.” Waited seven episodes for a line like that. Worth it.

Oliver better keep up this level of hotness out of prison, because now I’m expecting a certain standard. Source: @olivergifs

The action is A+. Nice to see Oliver kicking ass like in Season 1. There are a lot of great stunts to choose from, but Bunny Oliver is always the best. Source: olivergifs

I miss Adrian Chase. He knew how to terrify us.

Uhhh… is there no security in this maximum security prison? Why are the guards letting Diaz monologue?

“How’d you get out of your cell?”

“How’d you get out of yours?” 

I feel we’ve been cheated out of Oliver & Turner hilarity the last six episodes. Bummer.

“You are so predictable, you know that?” Pot meet kettle.

Ugh. Diaz yelling over a walkie talkie makes unintelligible mumbling highly preferable.

I have a new appreciation for soda.

Sampson is burned alive. Yeesh. Tough way to go. Who’d he piss off? Back to the WWE I guess!

Stan killed Brick and has my official nominee for 7B Big Bad.

IT’S OVER. DIAZ IS GONE. OUR BABES ARE TOGETHER AGAIN. WE SURVIVED FANDOM!

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 7x07 gifs credited.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

[mymusehatesme]

Castle of Glass

Chapter One: War

Words: 2140

Summary: A Hell Gate has opened on Earth, so you and your siblings decide to defend humanity, inadvertently locking yourselves out of Heaven.  Now you must wander the Earth doing good deeds until your penance has been served.  Unfortunately, your attempt goes a little awry and you find yourself a prisoner of the man they call the Hollow King….  [Female reader, angel reader.]

Warnings: None

Inspiration was this post: https://beka-tiddalik.tumblr.com/post/160726927715/a-tradition

MASTERLIST                      SERIES MASTERLIST

Your brothers were not royalty or rulers, but they were warriors. When the demons rose up from the Underground and threatened humanity, they all shaved their heads and sent it to the Demon King. You did the same and your sisters did, too.

(Now, this is not to say that all demons are bad, or that demons did not walk the Earth before the war. This is to say that when the Underground emptied, the demons turned the world into chaos, burning the land with every step they took.)

You all fought the demons for humanity, pushed the majority back to the Underground. And when the battle was won, the humans all feared you. They would not thank you, they cowered before you.

Some humans stole your blades and started killing your brothers and sisters.

So the angels learned to hide themselves amongst humanity – and you all did it well. You never used your grace unless it was life or death; and even then, you weighed the consequences.

(You might ask why the angels did not return Skyward. It was because if a single angel did anything without orders on the Earth, it upset the balance in their hearts and they would have to do penance before they were allowed back home.)

Over the years, some of your siblings married humans; some married into royalty, some wed commoners, and some of them decided to have fun while on Earth.

You traveled the world and helped those you could. You had no alliances, no ill will towards anyone – but when you came across this kingdom, the Kingdom of Embers, you had to help.

The barren land had been burned decades ago, but had never recovered because there had been no rain there. Black and gray ash covered the land and the towns you came across were practically empty. A riverbed that ran around the entirety of the kingdom was dry and cracked – no longer did it flow with deep, cool water.

So you sat down and made a spell with your Grace. You pulled the white-blue light out of your chest in the middle of a town, not caring what anyone thought, because there was no one around. Within an hour, the sky was dark and rumbling and the air was soaked with the heavy smell of rain. It started raining an hour later.

The soldiers came for you not long after that. They took you to the palace in chains that kept you bound through magical means. A flame and a ring of Holy Fire in the cells trapped you.

You looked up at the Hollow King, Sam Winchester. The circle of fire you were sitting in threw dancing shadows on the walls and the light danced in his eyes. His brown hair swept to his shoulders – signifying he had not declared war in many, many years.

You wondered what war he had declared. What the knife that he cut his hair with looked like.

There was a blade inside your boot that the soldiers had not found and its shape pressing against your skin comforted you.

His face had been like stone throughout your story and now you understood why they called him the Hollow King. You did, however, find it strangely ironic that his presence took up the room.

He nodded. “I see. So, your spell,” he motioned toward the window and the pouring rain outside, “How long is it supposed to last?”

You looked outside and tsked.  "It will rain for three days," you replied, "Then it will stop for three days, and continue in that pattern.  This cycle will repeat ten times."  

"Sixty days," he mused, "Two months."  He nodded and slowly walked around the room.  "You know, in all the years that my kingdom has been in this state-" he gestured grandly out the window, "no one, ever, has offered assistance.  Even when my people left in droves because of the barren land, we received nothing from our allies." He dropped his arms, but kept his tall, powerful stance.  "They let us starve."

You blinked, not sure what he was trying to say.  Strange that he was so cold to you when he first ordered you put in the tower and now, much later, he spoke to you as though you were a few steps away from being a guest.

“Sire,” a voice called from the stairwell. Sam turned to face the newcomer. The messenger handed him a box and a small tool to pry off the nails before leaving the room, leaving you alone with the king again.

You stared at the box and saw how he was hesitant to open it. Markings painted on the sides gave away its contents in Enochian. You fought the smile that threatened to spill over your features. “How long have I been held prisoner here, your majesty?” you asked.

He glanced at you and began to slowly walk the perimeter of your prison. “Two days,” he replied easily, prying off a nail with the tool the guard had given him.

Refusing to let the fact that you had been here two days and he was only now coming to speak to you bother you, you asked, “You’ve already received a message before this, haven’t you?”

No emotions showed on his face to betray the truth. Tink. The nail clattered to the floor and he pried up the next one.

“The messenger didn’t tell you who it was from because you already knew,” you stated.

Tink.

He had walked halfway around the circle by now. He didn’t spare you a glance; his focus was on the box.

Tink.

“You don’t even need to open it – you know what’s inside,” you goaded, practically giddy with excitement.

Tink. Plack!

The lid fell flat on the stone and the king stared at the inside of the box. It was overflowing with hair.

Long hair, short hair, brown hair, black hair, white hair, thin and straight, coarse and curly….

All for you.

There was a note at the top and he picked it up. It was a list of names and corresponding kingdoms.

     Castiel, King of the Kingdom of Mines

     Balthazar, Captain of the Pirate Band in the SouthEastern Seas

     Michael, Commander of the Legion of Soldiers in the Mountains of Triana

     Hannah, Gabriel, Gadreel, Lucifer, Raphael, Anael, Ezekiel, Samandriel, the list went on and he stopped reading.

Sam picked up a long strand of red hair that you supposed belonged to Anna. She had attached her jeweled hairpin to her strand.

You knew that meant Anna held nothing but utter contempt for whom she had cut her hair when she attached her hairpin.

“When was the last time you cut your hair?” you asked quietly.

Because you have refused to return our sister to us, we hereby declare war upon you.

“When I swore to kill a demon,” he replied distantly. “I didn’t end up killing him, but my hair had already been cut.” War had never been waged upon him nor his kingdom, but he knew the rules. You had never seen or heard of any ruler receiving so much hair before.

“What was the demon’s name and why did you swear to kill him, only to not?” There were demons who wanted nothing more than to help, but the price for a demon’s help was always the same: A soul.

Ripped apart by hellhounds and your soul dragged into the fiery afterlife that was the Underground.

Sam looked up at you, his head tilted a bit. “His name was Crowley,” he answered, noting how you stiffened ever so slightly at the Demon King’s name, “and he initially refused to bring my brother back to life.”

You blinked and a heavy feeling of dread unfurled in the pit of your stomach. Bringing someone back from the dead was not an easy or natural thing. Reapers had to be bargained with, the Underground and Skyward would have to have scoured to find the soul, and even IF the Reapers agreed, the GateKeepers had to allow the soul back out.

And that was considering if the soul had been freshly reaped and the body hadn’t decomposed too far.

That bargain would cost much more than the soul of the one who bargained. You thought about the barren land, the empty towns, and the silent soldiers.

“What did it cost you?” you asked, genuinely curious, but cautious of the answer.

“It cost my soul,” Sam stated, practically emotionless as he straightened up to his full height, “and my lands. I agreed to let the Demon King make a Hell Gate here – and when the demons poured out of the Underground, they scorched the earth and made it barren.”

You jumped to your feet as rage flowed through you. “You,” you spat, “It was you, you let them out!” The faces of your brothers and sisters that died during the battle flashed through your mind and you balled your hands into fists as you gritted your teeth.

The Hollow King tilted his chin up a bit. “You are angry,” he noted, “Why does that anger you?”

“My kin and I came down from the Sky to help your kind,” you seethed, “Because it was our duty to protect you, because the scales had been tipped, we abandoned our home and now cannot return for centuries until our penance has been completed!” Your heart pounded as you thought of all your siblings that died at the hands of humans that were too afraid to accept help and killed angels for the sheer novelty of it.

Kneeling down, you unlaced your boot and plucked the knife free. You stood up and locked eyes with the king again. Without blinking, you reached behind your head and shaved off a strand of hair at the base of your neck. You took a few hairs to tie the strand together and then threw it at his feet.

Sam looked down at your hair, a shadow of surprise on his face, and then back up at you.

Your face was grim with hate and determination. Your kin had added decades to their penance for waging war and you would not let that go unmatched.

“I, (Y/N), declare war upon you,” you defied, tilting your chin up, “for having loosed the Demon Hoard upon the Earth, for all the Humans that died at their hands, and all the Angels that died at the hands of your kind, I declare war upon you.”

He didn’t react. His face never changed to show anger or sadness or cocky assuredness. He simply watched your outburst and cold defiance.

It unnerved you. “What say you?”

“I say… that oil has a few more days until it burns out,” he said, observing the flaming ring that held you captive, “I say I do not fear the entirety of the Skyward Host’s war against me.” He looked up at you and finished, “And I say… I think I’ll send for more oil.”

You blanched. Was… was he mad? Perhaps he was suicidal?

“Do you honestly have such faith in your soldiers and abilities as King that you do not fear us?” you demanded.

Pride overtook his features as he smirked, “I do.”

“And when the Demon King comes to collect your soul?” you asked, “What will you do then? What will your abilities be to him?”

“Oh, he’s already come and gone,” Sam said easily, readjusting the box in his hands, “He’s already collected my debt, in fact, he got it right away after our deal.”

You tilted your head, trying to understand. Not only did this man singlehandedly unleash Hell upon the Earth, he defied the natural order of things by bringing a soul back from the afterlife, and he has apparently been living for years now without a soul? “You… you have no soul?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

“There is more to this than you can see,” Sam offered, picking up your hair from the floor, but not putting it in the box with the others, “and more than I am willing to tell you right now. But I’ll tell you soon enough.” He smiled at you – just a smile, not conveying any emotion or having any deeper meaning than a half-kindness – and turned to the stairs.

He made it ten paces before you cried out to him to wait.

He stopped, but did not turn.

“Was it worth it?” you asked, nearing the flames as far as you dared, “Was your brother worth the cost?”

The Hollow King silently deliberated. He turned his head over his shoulder, but not enough for him to look at you. “Yes. And I’d do it again.”

Then he faced forward again and left you with the crackling flames.

[pine-cloud]

GoT hot take

Daenerys:

Everyone is really angry about what GoT did to Dany’s character and I get it. They wrote it badly. BUT, it was always going to end this way. The problem is the show made us so invested in her character, had her triumphs celebrated, and then turned her evil in like 3 episodes and sighted flimsy evidence about foreshadowing. Saying that she was cold because she watched her  abusive brother be killed and that was enough to say that she would burn down a city full of civilians 7 seasons later is not enough. Her character ALWAYS wanted to preserve and protect the innocent.

Daenerys being brutal to bad people is not necessarily foreshadowing that she will be brutal to innocent people, as the show seems to think HOWEVER, it does illustrate her ability to be brutal, and could show how she will turn to brutality when she thinks she is right or that it’s for the greater good. The show said some of this afterward, but they didn’t properly set it up. I think GRRM will.

The irony of Dany being corrupted by power is exactly the kind of thing GRRM would write. It illustrates the corruptive power of the throne.

Jon being forced to kill her fulfills the Azor Ahai/Nissa Nissa story, further proving that he is the prince who was promised. The prince who was promised prophecy being fulfilled will tie in the red God in a much more satisfying way then the show ever did.

In the house of the undying, Dany touches the throne, then goes through the gates of the wall, then sees her dead husband and son, foreshadowing that she will die before getting to sit on the Iron throne.

Dany wants to tear down the systems that have kept corrupt people in power—but she always excludes herself and her house form that power structure. She is blind to her own flaws.

While the show shows her conquering people and the Dothraki as badass and admirable, and her intentions are, there is more nuance. “A Dance With Dragons explicitly undermines the white savior narrative by suggesting that violent interventions to reform foreign societies are always more complicated than they appear, no matter how good their intentions. But this nuance may be lost in the television medium.” (I recommend reading the full article, it lays out a good example of the nuance of the white savior trope in the books versus in the show-but that’s a whole different post.)

All the ASOIAF characters are morally grey and Dany is no different. She’s not a monster, she’s wrong. Unfortunately, her mistakes she have the power to cause devastation.

Dany has often had violent impulses, but when she listens to council, she sees reason. What will happen when she is stressed, paranoid, distrusting of all those around her, and so close to her goal? So far she’s been on the right side, but her ability for brutality and power hunger can turn (just not in only 3 episodes).

The whole point of the story is that it doesn’t matter who sits on the Iron Throne. The power is corruptive. Even good kings have parented bad ones. Why would it end with another Targaryen on the throne? What would be the point?

Bran is king and it makes perfect sense:

Yes I get the critique that he is very connected to the North and it’s culture, but he’s not Bran Stark of Winterfell anymore. He holds the memories of all of living history.

Bran rebuilding the realm echoes Brandon the Builder, it comes full circle.

He makes sense as a ruler. He can see through corrupt officials and councilors. he will probably live hundreds of years (unless he needed that tree to support his life in which case, never mind), which will give the necessary time to rebuild and be stable after the 30ish years of massive instability. He is the only person ever that is completely subjective. He set a precedent of electing rulers. Although both he and Dany are infertile, she still probably would have chosen her successor. It is not in her character to establish any form of democracy. She always believed that the throne was her family’s birthright, even while admitting that her father was bad.

People are mad because he didn’t do anything to help and now he’s king. Here’s the thing, he’s a bigger character in the books, after season 4 they just kind of dropped his story, but he has much more power than they ever showed.

He is the antithesis to darkness and death and all that the White Walkers represent. His character represents human life and redemption.

If his mystical powers don’t come to some fruition, then what was the point of his, or any magic, storyline?

The Wall is where Jon should be:

He was raised as Ned Stark’s son, he won’t forsake his watch vows in the end. He would never have abandoned his brothers forever, especially since he has a duty as their lord commander (both 998th in his old life and 1000th post resurrection)

 Even though the night’s watch is no longer needed to fight the white walkers, but they are necessary to have as a place for displaced people. Also they can help assimilate the wildlings into the north, and no-one would do that better than Jon.

Jon belongs in the North. So does Ghost, and Ghost is a physical embodiment of Jon’s soul and the dire wolves have always represented the Stark children’s connection to the North. It’s not a coincidence that the only one with a dire wolf in the end is the only one in the “true north”.

If his true heritage was found out, he would always be a threat, someone would always be trying to use him in a plot. At the wall, it doesn’t matter. That’s why Ned wanted him there in the first place.

Jon will want to do penance for the rest of his life for what he did to Dany. At the wall he will have purpose.

Other things:

Jaime and Cersei-I agree that it was total bullshit. Yes I think they will die together, but not like that. Jaime’s character development had no payoff and the Valonqar theory wasn’t addressed. I get the irony that she died because the world she built literally crashed down on her, but that will not be how Jaime ends.

Arya going off adventuring makes perfect sense. She was never going to sit still, especially after all she’s been through. But she also will never give up being Arya Stark.

“It doesn’t make sense that they repeated ‘the lone wolf dies but the pack survives’ if all the stark children are going to be apart!” It is completely different. They were apart due to circumstances beyond their control, they lost track of each other and they didn’t know who was alive or dead. They found their way back to each other and now they are closing their own paths, not being ripped apart by circumstance. They know where they are, and they’ll see each other. Jon never felt truly at home in Winterfell, so he’s ended up in the only place he felt fully accepted. Arya will never again sit still, even in her own home, but she’ll return someday. Bran has a larger purpose now. Sansa wanted desperately to leave in the beginning, and then she realized she just wanted to be home. She is the best fit to rule the north.

In conclusion; they (more or less) followed George’s plan, but they didn’t have the books to go on after season 5, so the way they set up the story is barebones. The books have lots of problematic things but they are also more nuanced and much better planned. Even if you are disappointed with GRRM’s endings, I think they will make sense.

Anyway watch Emergency Awesome’s video on the book vs. show’s endings.

[atopearth]

Final Fantasy X-2 HD Remaster Part 4 - Chapter 5, Ending and Overall Impressions

I found it so funny when the commsphere Shinra dumped into the hole to the Farplane was fixed by Gippal and he asked Nooj what he’s gonna do about Leblanc since they’re risking their lives there to save Baralai from Shuyin and Vegnagun, and right when Nooj answers, the connection dies, so Leblanc doesn’t get to hear it hahahaha. Good thing is that Leblanc is a straightforward person though, so even if she didn’t get to hear it, then she’ll just go straight to the Farplane to ask him, gotta admire her spirit and her love for him! Hilarious when Brother was talking about his love for the Yuna that keeps facing forward and doesn’t mind that his feelings will never be reciprocated and then tells Barkeep that they’re cool bachelors and then Barkeep is like “Speak for yourself, sonny” in his Hypello way hahahhaha and then a female Hypello comes along LOL. Funniest thing was if you talk to Paine, she’s like, I think I saw two Barkeeps, then she thinks she needs more sleep hahahaha! Buddy talking about how he and Brother formed the Gullwings when they went all the way north to some ice place to find the Celsius (airship) and ended up being guided by a gull and also surviving by eating a gull too LOLL, I guess the gull sacrificed itself for a good cause, because without it, they wouldn’t have formed the Gullwings and then Yuna wouldn’t have joined and saved the world once again haha.

Visiting Zanarkand first since there was apparently a bug in the original game where you might not get the episode complete if you came here last, that would suck! Anyway, not surprised Maechen was an unsent considering him always popping up anywhere he wanted and knowing so many things, I wonder how it feels to live for 1000 years just to tell stories of the past to people and experience so many things. It’s crazy to think how important that handshake was in the beginning of the game, since he was actually the one in that sphere recording who was so happy to have been able to shake Lenne’s hand 1000 years ago! And now that he shook Yuna’s hand, it reminded him of the fact that he’s actually already dead. Glad to know he had a happy long life.

(I don’t know what I did wrong but I don’t think I’m getting 100% and at this point in time, I honestly don’t care anymore because I’ve spent more time being frustrated than playing this game so whatever lol) I still don’t like Beclem btw, so I don’t really care that he’s leaving Besaid lol, the only thing I agree with is that they really do need to work the Besaid Aurochs to the bone! They’re pretty bad lmao. Wakka thinking carefully about what he should name his son was nice, a name is very important, so I think taking your time is good, I’m glad Lulu really wanted him to be the one to name him. I’m surprised Wakka doesn’t think Lulu relies on him at all, like dude! She’s ready to have a baby with you, I doubt she’d do that if she didn’t think you were reliable at all! Have more confidence in yourself, Wakka! I guess everyone is getting back together, lol at Dona having practised her lines so many times for trying to get Barthello back to live with her, since he’s been at Kilika temple all this time as a New Yevon supporter. Your beliefs are important, but so is your partner, so it’s good that everyone has stopped fighting and people can come together again regardless of their beliefs, it’s about time they stopped fighting and whining lol.

Lolll at Rikku being the culprit for the hover crash at Mi'ihen highroad hahahaha! She legit didn’t even notice that the hover crashed because it was trying to dodge her and when she jumped down a ledge, she fell on a machina and that’s why it went crazy lol. She caused so much trouble on the highroad without even realising lolll. Guess it’s good that Rin only made her clean all the rubbish on the road haha. Luca…was really just Yuna walking around reminiscing the memories of spending time with Tidus here, which is nostalgic and nice. Who doesn’t miss Tidus? XD It was kinda cool that we got to fight Lucil, always thought she was pretty cool, I liked her speech and think that she’s a very strong and worthy leader. She knows how to unite and lead people. Even without Nooj, you can tell that the Youth League will be fine with her there.

That Djose machine experiment was very interesting, don’t wanna dig to repair and make it stronger though😢 Lmao at Tobli’s success now when he was in so much debt before, I guess Yuna’s influence can just make everything go well lol. Having Tromell lead the Guado is the best choice. Considering all that the Guado had done and all the reflection they’ve gone through most of the game, with the Ronsos looking forward instead of back as well, it’s for the best that we let go of the past and hope to improve the future instead. I feel like Cid had a very crappy role in this game lol, I liked him in FFX so I’m kinda disappointed that his character is rather…questionable now with the things he did to Zanarkand and not really playing a role to redeem all that. Seeing O'aka and Wantz bond again and take care of the Macalania agency together was heartwarming though, nice to see that these brothers are still doing well and are hopeful for the future!

After finding all the cactuars (lmao at the tenth one being with the “wrong crowd” aka the rogue cactuars that don’t want to fulfill their duties) and lolll, never thought I’d see a Jumbo Cactuar! Easy fight but nice to see it lol. If only it had a moustache hahaha. That boss you have to kill afterwards though, he had so much life! Luckily it was a simple fight and I earned so much AP from it lol. Legit just used two Dark Knights using the darkness skill alongside Yuna Curaga-ing haha, all I did was hold the ‘x’ button to win XD Good to see everyone respect Kimahri again and understand that he’s wise and caring. It’s nice to see that Yuna doesn’t need Kimahri to protect her anymore, so he can now protect his tribe, and although things were a bit rocky, it all worked out! Now on to some annoying sidequests! Accessing the secret chocobo ranch dungeon was easily the most tiring and annoying thing ever. It was SO time consuming. I spent so long looking and capturing chocobos in the Thunder Plains to get 4 that had a max level of 5 zzzz. Then, I had to level them and fight 7 random battles in between until they were all level 5 AND THEN the dungeon itself was annoying because it doesn’t have a map omg. I just googled a map because I couldn’t take it lol. The only good thing about it was getting the AP egg so now one of my characters can earn triple the AP yay! Otherwise, legit so tired lol. Especially since I did the Mi'ihen dungeon as well with all the wall bombing to proceed zzz.

Anyway, things just get more tedious. Was digging at the Central Expanse for the Desert key and to upgrade the machine experiment in Djose and gg, could not find the key at all so I gave up lol. I tried to fight the machine without being properly prepared using my crappy dresspheres and I died hahahaah. I learnt my lesson XD Needed the last two crimson spheres so went to the Via Infinito and dang am I getting motion sickness with all that jumping. My head hurts so much lol. Think I need to level and use my mascot dresspheres though, the elder drake kills me hahaha. Btw, the mascot dresspheres are so cute lmao, Yuna as a moogle, Rikku as a Cait Sith and Paine as a Tonberry is hilarious to look at, I’m going to enjoy using them in battle hahaha. Really cute to see Paine opening up and show her feelings and how much she appreciates Yuna and Rikku being her friends and trying their best to talk to her, it was a funny but nice scene. I never knew/remembered that when Yuna uses the warrior dressphere, her sword is the Brotherhood! That’s so sweet to see!

Kinda surprised that when you go to the Den of Woe, they figure out that Shuyin was the one controlling Nooj and that’s why he shot Paine, Baralai and Gippal when they escaped two years ago, and that now Shuyin is in Baralai’s body. Thought they established that already and that the den made people crazy because of his extreme depression and feelings of having to relive Lenne’s death with the pyreflies since they practically replay strong memories. Anyway, that’s done and dusted so time to finish levelling and go through the Via Infinito? XD Annnnd I gave up on the Via Infinito lol! Got to like level 60 (I think) but I cbb with the way stats work in this game and how you can’t max it etc, so you’re reliant on garment grids, switching dresspheres to get the most benefits such as going past 9999 HP and damage and the accessories, and the tower itself was tedious (and motion sickness inducing LOL, why am I weak) and you don’t even get much out of it (after defeating Penance in FFX and feeling no sense of accomplishment, it’s just so not worth my time lol), so yeah I can’t be bothered😬 Aaaand I spent so much time getting most dresspheres to 100%, I’m tired😖 And lol my characters are like level 99 or close to there because I was so tired of levelling myself….so I kinda cheated and stuck a rubber band on the analog stick to move it to the left and another rubber band with a battery on it to stay on the x button and voila! DIY levelling machine lmao. I just threw Yuna at the Thunder Plains and made someone constantly heal and the rest use skills to max the (annoying) Mascot dresspheres and others lol, yay.

Anyway, Vegnagun! Yes, Leblanc never was the type to just wait there quietly for Nooj to come back haha. And yes, Vegnagun is a machina created by humans so technically, it should be possible to be destroyed without it killing everyone in Spira. But anyway, the best thing was Yuna’s speech to everyone when Nooj suggested to sacrifice himself to kill Vegnagun and Shuyin. I was touched with her words tbh, because she’s right, it was so difficult to see all the fayth die in FFX because they had “no choice” and that they had to “accept” that this is what they had to do, and Yuna did accept it and do it, but in the end, she’s only left with regret, pain and the loss of people that should be beside her that aren’t. They need to stop sacrificing people in order to win, because it’s not really a win when you lose so many before it. And although it’s cheesy to have everyone combine their powers to take down each part of Vegnagun, it’s very sweet too because it feels like the spirit of the game, and it feels like we should get to finally have a happy ending. So weird to see Shuyin use all of Tidus’ skills but just with another name lmao. And as expected, Lenne comes out of the dressphere (pretty much) and so Shuyin finally gets to talk to her properly and fade together with her and rest in peace😊

And omggg the fayth appeared and asked Yuna at the flower field/farplane whether she really wants to see Tidus again! Guess I got 100% completion??? (Edit: I got 99% zzzz) I’m happy that New Yevon (Baralai), Youth League (Nooj) and the Machine Faction (Gippal) can finally unite together and understand that they’re all a part of Spira and really don’t need to fight, although I do think that the fighting between them was rather awkward? They had differing perspectives but they resulted in physical fighting and kinda like war so prematurely without really thinking about it, you really can’t blame Shuyin for being pissed that Spira is still like how it was 1000 years ago lol. Anyway, everyone’s happy now so yay. Yuna really did have another long journey in this game to save the world, so she really should and deserves to go back home to Besaid. Always great to see Yuna and Tidus get to reunite at Besaid just like how he first came about, and to reunite with everyone at Besaid too! That’s where they can both truly call home so yeah that was nice. I YouTubed the perfect ending scenes and yeah, I prefer the normal more, I don’t think it was necessary lol.

Overall, I still have mixed feelings over FFX-2. On one hand, it was nice to see Spira after the Calm and the problems that come with that alongside a new Yuna that has lost the chains of responsibility with the happy Rikku and stoic Paine that has a background that unfolds alongside the plot of this game, and just see them go on pretty carefree adventures and have fun. On the other hand, I wasn’t really a fan of the garment grids or the dresspheres but it was still okay, but I guess it just felt like since it’s supposed to be more of a fan service game, I should have enjoyed it more? But instead I thought it was kinda boring? And the 100% completion attempt (that failed) killed me lol. I guess the story wasn’t very appealing, it’s good that it was light hearted and it was fun to follow the girls around and see their perspective of things, but I guess it lacked the fun and adventure that a lot of games have, instead it was kinda just like a short story about nothing that wanted to talk about something (saving the world again) when the only thing that really resonated with me was the last bit with Yuna when she said she had enough of people sacrificing themselves for peace. Basically, all right game but not very satisfying if you wanted something more from FFX (until you see Tidus at the end I guess) and not very interesting as a standalone imo.

[miighted]

                related to the previous headcanon, the reasons garen often endures a lot of cruel treatment is because he harbors a lot of guilt any time he feels he’s failed in his duty of protecting demacia, he admittedly has a lot of deeply ingrained negative self-esteem ( as in, he believes he often deserves said treatment ), and because at the end of his day, he love for other people is a very, very powerful force. garen, even if he is terrible at making emotional connections and expressing his emotions, has a genuine profound love for demacia. he adores his people and he feels he owes it to every single one of them to try protect them in all that he does. garen sees himself as a servant to them more than anything else. 

                this means that whenever garen feels he has made a mistake, he hurt people when he should have protected them, or he did not rise to the occasion he will tenderly carve that guilt into his soul. he deeply, wholly, and genuinely makes to atone for any of his mistakes. atonement or servitude towards others, primarily to the people of demacia, is often what garen does when he is faced with a lot of grief. when his uncle died, he fervently dedicated himself to his training to become a knight. when he believes jarvan had died, he gave all of his wealth to families who had lost their homes or family members during the noxian invasion. penance, as an act, holds very true to garen.

                his negative self-esteem is another very deeply entangled mess that takes a lot of patience to unravel. it also requires gentleness and reassurance to be able to get garen to climb out of that grave he was dug as a little boy and made to believe was meant for him. his parents were cold to him as a child, especially after his uncle nikkolas cut his hair, and pieter has always held impossible expectations over his head. 

                despite all of his accomplishments, garen still feels he is not a worthy son, brother, or soldier. he will forever bare a mark of shame on his family’s name in his eyes as him being a trans man is treated as a family secret in a similar vein that lux’s magic is treated ( which is why garen believes lux should conform to her “role” since he was forced to as well ). he is constantly chasing his parents’ impossibly high standards and having a part of yourself being treated as a shameful secret has deeply wounded his self-esteem to the point where he believes he is deserving of his parent’s neglect. he also feels a very intimate disgust for his own body due to this. garen feels a lot of dysphoria any time he sees himself in the nude and generally avoids it, as well as being even shirtless around other people. 

                unfortunately, garen’s way of coping with a lot of that emotional trauma is usually avoiding addressing it. he believes he deserves it inherently, so he also doesn’t talk about it, not even to his sister— garen doesn’t want to burden her with it. his acts of atonement are the way he copes with his guilt, while the rest of his emotional pain he carries on his back as another weight, the same way he carries his father’s crushing expectations.

[lnc2]

Ch. 2 Penance

Object Permanence

Summary: Adrien makes a mistake.

Chapter Notes: Time is a flat circle.  It's been about a year.  I'd recommend reacquainting yourself w/ the first chapter before moving forward.

AO3

<< Previous Chapter

Penance

Patrols were quiet.

Ladybug wasn’t ignoring him but everything she said had a purpose and every word was carefully measured.  After years of running mad across the rooftops of Paris the change chafed at him like a leash.

I was just trying to do the right thing.

The bitter refrain ran race tracks through his mind.  It was the constant, lung-clenching weight that followed him wherever he went.  It was the haze that hovered over his classes, his photo shoots, his sleep.

The unspoken but behind every apology he thought to make.

From his father who refused to see him to his friends who refused to fault him, Adrien could have choked on his heavy sense of injustice.

“You’re a hero,” Chloe cooed, planting a wet, smacking kiss on his cheek.

“What else could you do?” Nino said, punching him in the arm.

“If I were mad at you I’d be kind of a hypocrite,” Alya smirked, ruffling his hair. “Relax.  Not everything is life and death.”

Chloe smoothed back her ponytail with a sniff.  “Besides, Ladybug takes care of everything in the end.”

Adrien gave a nervous laugh before catching Marinette’s eyes, flat and inexplicably knowing. He looked away and never looked back.

      The akuma appeared during lunch.

The hows and whys didn’t matter– not when it was wreaking havoc in the halls of Francois Dupont.  Underclassmen ran screaming for cover as teachers and their do-gooder assistants tried to usher them towards safety.

Adrien didn’t think– there were so many bodies in such a small space.  If the akuma didn’t hurt someone then the frenzied students would. He tried to redirect some of the more terrified students as they mobbed towards him and the exit.

“Don’t go that way!  It’s blocked!”

They weren’t listening.  Adrien realized too late that they were ready to run him down.

“Move!”

He was slammed from behind into the walls, his face pressed painfully up against a safety flyer, head ringing from impact.  He struggled against the tight, angry grip he’d been locked into.

“Dammit Adrien, stop struggling.”

When the initial threat had passed he whirled around ready to have words only to realize that his attacker was Marinette.

Small, breakable, hadn’t spoken to him in weeks Marinette.

“Um.”

She was furious.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He flinched.

Pinned by her icy glare, Adrien could hardly stammer out one word let alone an acceptable explanation.

She crossed her arms over her chest, scowling.  “You need to save the heroics to Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

He resisted the urge to stomp his foot or something equally undignified.  That’s what he was doing dammit.

Marinette’s eyes flashed as if she could read his mind.

A terrifying thought, really.

“It’s not safe, Adrien,” She said, gesturing towards the surrounding chaos.  “I think we’ve mourned you enough for this month.”

And before he could point out her hypocrisy she was already sprinting further into the collapsing halls.  Chastised and more than a little indignant he moved to chase after her when he felt Plagg’s claws sink into his chest.

The message was clear as day.

Adrien frowned, running off to find a place to transform, unable to shake the dark itch bubbling beneath his skin.

       Sometimes he felt so resentful he could choke.

I’m not wrong.

Like a mantra from hell, it chased him down and nearly devoured him whole.

I’m not wrong, he thought, fingers pounding out his frustration on the piano. 

I’m not wrong, he laughed, embarrassed as reporters flocked and asked what it was like to save the heroine of Paris. 

I’m not wrong, he snapped at his kwami who merely sat there, unblinking, as his charge fell apart in rage.

I’m not wrong, I’m not wrong, I’m not WRONG, he wanted to scream as Ladybug danced a ballet between blows from Hawkmonth’s latest akuma.

Like an infection, the words made their home in the back of his throat. Black coils of righteous indignation wound their way around his heart and for moments and hours and days he would wrap himself in the cloak of lashback and martyrdom. 

I’m not wrong.

And then he would remember.

He would remember the terror on his partner’s grief-ruined face as she cradled him on the bank of the Seine.  He would remember Plagg’s angry cursing and frantic kneading at his hair. He would remember their voices blending together in a heartbroken, furious chorus of oh god, oh god, Chat, Adrien no and what the hell were you thinking and don’t die on me, don’t you dare die on me and know that he wasn’t right either.

What if I can’t save them all, Chat?

And after he had fallen apart, after he proved himself the wielder of the cat miraculous by ripping at his sheets and throwing his remote and tearing apart his books, he would fall to his knees, red-cheeked, tear streaked, and so so sorry, as Plagg looked on, unmoved.

       “She wants to talk to you.”

Ladybug rested her head on her arms on her knees and stared down at the pleasure boats that slowly waded their way through the Seine.

“Who does?” He asked when she didn’t continue.

“My kwami.”

“Oh.”

Chat wasn’t quite sure what to think about that. Plagg never said much about his lucky counterpart and Adrien never thought to ask. That didn’t stop the stomach lurching swoop in his gut at the idea of a tete-a-tete with the tiny goddess.

And it would just be him and… Tikki? He could tell from the way Ladybug said it.

She wants to talk to you.

“Um,” He said, trying and failing to give voice to his sudden anxiety. “S-sure. I mean of course! I mean… why?”

His partner seemed to smile in spite of herself. “She wouldn’t tell me.”

“When?”

Ladybug shrugged.  “Now is fine.”

“Now?”

She watched him as the buckle of his tail thrashed against the rooftop in agitation.  “We can do it another time if that’s better.”

Chat shook his head.

“Okay.” Ladybug stood and gestured to the next rooftop over and its large chimney stack.  “I guess I’ll just… be over there.”

He didn’t watch her go.  He just sat and waited, tail lashing, claws tapping.  It wasn’t until he heard a light cough that he finally turned to look.

Tikki was smaller than he expected. 

But there was no doubt that she was Ladybug’s. 

There was a something about her– something large and simmering beneath her smile.

“Are you going to yell at me too?”

Chat wanted to take the words back as soon as he said them.  They were rude and had an edge the creature before him didn’t deserve.

She merely blinked, blue eyes slow and patient and knowing.

“Do you want me to yell at you, Chat Noir?”

He wanted to shake his head but he honestly didn’t know. It was so much easier when people were yelling.

Chat’s miraculous let out a low beep. Tikki smiled.

“I think Plagg has something to say.”

Chat shook his head.  “He hasn’t spoken to me since the accident.”

“No, I’d imagine not.” She said, frowning thoughtfully at the ring in question.

“I was just trying to do the right thing,” He whispered, mortified when his voice hitched as he held back the emotions crawling up his throat.

“I know.”

“They hate me now.”

Tikki flew into his eyeline. “They don’t hate you, Chat Noir.” 

When he continued to avoid her gaze she sighed floating down to rest on his knee.  He could tell she was waiting for him to look at her but he struggled. There was something unsettling about the kwami’s eyes.  It was almost like he was looking at Ladybug herself.

“They care about you, Adrien,” She said, softly.

Chat couldn’t help his disbelieving cough.  Tikki’s chiding look was gentle but earnest.

“Plagg has lost enough Chat Noirs to stupidity,” She said and he was ashamed.

He knew that.

“And Ladybug?”

Tikki’s smile was uncomfortably knowing.

“She cares about you too,” She said, cautious, like she was walking around a promise. “It’s not… easy for her.  She’s under a lot of pressure– it’s too much for her to think one wrong step could mean losing you too.”

Chat let out a low growl, tugging roughly at his hair.

“What am I supposed to do then?” He snapped.  “Not protect her?”

Everything in him recoiled.

Impossible.

His crazed eyes sought out the kwami floating beside him.  Her gaze was steady and filled with impossible understanding.

“Ladybug needs a partner, Chat Noir, not a shield.” Tikki’s words were firm but not unkind.  “There is balance in everything. Your duty now is to find your balance with her.”

[ariphyll]

and your eyes, they hide a thousand words

– Chapter 5: Hit Your Mark — Prev. Chapter (in the reblogs cause Tumblr is broken)

Ao3. Ver. in the reblogs

Xander/Takumi - Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 3275

Summary: The stars glinted in the night sky, but the torches provided enough light for the training grounds to be usable.

A/N: What, an update only a week later instead of months? I don't know what the fuck is happening either.

Takumi managed to find his way to the training grounds by nighttime. Laslow had ceased his lessons, there were no nobles to harp at him - he didn’t even have any real paperwork or notes of his own to pour over. He had some free time and by the gods, he was going to take it.

Thwick!

After all, nothing relieved stress better than a few bullseyes.

Takumi huffed as he squinted at the target a few yards away. At least, it would be if he could actually land a true mark.

Takumi shifted the practice bow in his hands. He should’ve brought the Fujin Yumi down with him instead of trying to work with the Nohrian style bows. He had gotten pretty good at them during the war but after so much time he was a little out of practice. At this rate his stress relief was turning on him.

A familiar itch grew in his hands as he stared down the target. Really, there was no point in obsessing over perfection anymore. The war was finished, and his siblings were far, far away. No one was even in the training area. No one could see the slightly imperfect marks he had left on the target. No one but him. It didn’t matter - but his hands itched.

It had to matter.

It was getting late but Takumi still notched another arrow and pulled the bowstring back. There were only a few evening stars out; he could stay a while longer. All he needed was one bullseye. One and then he would put the bow back and head up to his room. Just enough to quiet the itch in his hands.

He fired.

The arrow embedded itself into the wood of the target, but not dead center.

The itch grew stronger, and so he notched another arrow.

Takumi had been so busy with moving and adapting to Castle Krakenburg, he knew he would be sore if he kept this pace up. He should take a break, he knew this but- just one bullseye. He would land it on this one, and if he didn’t, well, he would try again. 'Cause the next time, for sure, he would hit the mark.

Takumi didn’t enjoy obsessing. He didn’t enjoy the restlessness in his body over a score less than a hundred, but every piece of him demanded it. So aware of the issue yet so incapable of stopping it. He pulled back the arrow, narrowing his eyes at the target. Perhaps aim a little higher...

“Practicing your archery this evening?”

Takumi let out a small noise as his focus snapped, so intent on the target he didn’t hear anyone approaching. His fingers fumbled in their grip and the arrow flew a foot or two before skidding across the ground. He turned and paused as he saw Xander standing there.

An uncomfortable feeling pressed against the back of his throat but Takumi gave him a polite nod. “Good evening.” A beat passed between them. “Do you… need me for something?”

“Oh-” Xander shook his head. “No, do not worry. I was actually here to do some training myself.”

“Found yourself some free time as well then?” Takumi asked.

“I… guess, in a way. Even among all my other duties I need to find time to stay in top form. Peace or not, Nohr needs a strong king in all aspects.”

Takumi turned in favor of picking up the fallen arrow. The tip was bent just the slightest bit. How annoying.

“Well, I didn’t mean to intervene. I was just about to leave anyway,” Takumi lied.

Xander turned to peer down at the target. The more errant misses stood out like sirens in Takumi’s mind. “Your aim is still as solid as ever, I see.”

Takumi huffed despite himself. “Hardly.” The penance for him slacking was clear as day.

“Is that so?” Xander paused. Takumi glanced in his direction but couldn’t read his face. “Well, thankfully we are in a time of peace. You have plenty of time to reach your old standards.”

Takumi bit the inside of his cheek. Exactly how long had Xander been standing there before he spoke up anyway? “Well, whatever, I’m done now. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh- I don’t mean to kick you out,” Xander said. “Actually, would you… Ah, would you like to train with me, Prince Takumi?”

“Hm?” Takumi raised an eyebrow at him. “You want to practice together?”

“I don’t see why not - unless you truly were eager to leave."

The itch in his hands still stayed. "I could stay a bit longer."

"Then it's settled. Although...” Xander shot the bow in his hands a small frown. “I’m not as well-versed in the bow as you are.”

Takumi had to bite back a laugh at that. “Don’t worry about it. I could take you on in some swordplay.”

Immediately Takumi regretted those words. Sword practice with the only man who could match his brother at full strength? What a great idea. Some humiliation could only make the night better, right?

“Really? Then I’d be more than happy to do a few sparring matches,” Xander said. It was officially dark enough that the torches were providing more light than the sky, leaving the training grounds covered in long shadows.

Well, at least it wasn’t his brother Takumi was actually sparring with. Xander may be strong and his husband-to-be, but no defeat by him would be that bitter. Takumi took in a deep breath. It would be a terrible one, surely, but it wasn’t his brother. This could be salvaged.

Sometimes he would criticize Leo for not being honest with his family. The critique always felt hollow coming from him.

“Prince Takumi?” Takumi jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Are you still coming with?”

Takumi glanced up at Xander, his face slightly creased with worry. “Oh- yeah, yeah. I just got… distracted. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. If you’re not feeling well you do not have to stay.”

Takumi shook his head. “No, I’m good. Come on, I need to put this bow back.”

They walked in silence towards the small armory, equipped only with practice weapons and a few dull blades. Takumi placed his bow back in it’s spot, leaving his half empty quiver nearby. His spent arrows would probably have to be fixed anyway before being used again.

“You have quite a bit of experience with the sword as well, don’t you Prince Takumi?” Xander asked, testing a broadsword in his hand.

Takumi shrugged. “I have enough. Enough that I could use one on the battlefield if needed.”

“You would spar with your retainer quite often back during the war,” Xander said.

“Well, yeah.” Takumi felt a smile tug at his lips at the memories. “Someone has to best him now and then so he doesn’t get comfortable.”

Takumi thought he saw a hint of a warm smile on Xander’s face as well. “I understand very well working with unruly retainers.”

Thinking of Laslow’s flirtatious behavior and Peri’s… existence, Takumi could see how Xander had him beat in this particular category. For once, he was glad to not be at the top. He enjoyed Hinata and Oboro’s constant antics but he wasn’t sure if he could handle them getting any weirder.

Then again, there was that time Hinata talked about going on a date with some ‘ghost chick’...

Takumi picked up one of the practice shortswords, frowning at the weight. If he was rusty on Nohrian bows he couldn’t imagine when he had last used a Nohrian blade. He adjusted his grip as he tried to adjust to the balance. He didn’t understand why Nohr insisted on making all their weapons so heavy .

“Are you ready?” Xander asked, turning towards him.

At least it was too late in the day for anyone else to come to the training grounds. “Sure, let’s go.”

Takumi took a deep breath as they reconvened outside, adjusting his weight onto the balls of his feet as he prepared himself. The heavy handle of the blade felt unnatural but not impossible to work with. He brushed his thumb over the scratched hilt as he looked up at Xander.

“Ready?” He asked.

Xander nodded and only a beat passed before he struck first.

If there was one thing Takumi could always rely on, it was his speed. Being short and smaller than a lot of other people was annoying at best most days - but for combat? Takumi took a step back, brandishing his sword in front of his chest as he edged to the side. Speed was what samurai were trained for, and his size only helped that aspect.

Xander, on the other hand, held more power in his swings. Takumi dodged a few more attacks before forcing himself to dip in close. One strike would feel like multiple if he let himself be hit in the wrong area. Takumi moved to thrust his sword toward his stomach but Xander deflected the hit with one of his own. Too slow.

Xander took a step back but Takumi could read a small fraction of mirth on his face. “Are you forgetting you’re in Nohr, Prince Takumi?”

Takumi gritted his teeth. He was well aware of where he currently was. It wasn’t his fault that Nohrian weaponry differed in all the wrong areas. The katana was made to slice through with ease, while Nohrian blades demanded more force to accomplish anything. Speed versus power - except all these weapons sucked at speed in his hands. He looked down towards Xander’s legs. If he wasn’t fast enough for his chest…

Takumi rushed forward, feinting a strike to the left. Xander moved with ease out of the way before aiming to retaliate himself, and Takumi leaned down into the opening. Adjusting momentum was a bit more difficult like this but he managed to graze against the side of Xander’s calf before he twisted out of range. Contact - but still not good enough.

“Anything else you’d like to say?” Takumi snarked, adjusting back onto the balls of his feet.

Xander shook his head but if anything he still looked like he was enjoying himself. “No. Your balance however-” He darted forward, faster than Takumi was expecting, and even as he held his sword to his chest to protect him Xander still struck him back with ease. “-is going to be an issue.”

Takumi stumbled as he tried to regain his footing, huffing a bit. It wasn’t like he was wrong - that didn’t mean Takumi had to give in so easily.

An actual laugh came from Xander. Takumi glanced up in surprise at the sound but before he could speak Xander continued. “Keep your feet flat. Holding your weight more center will help when you swing.”

“I know how to use a sword,” Takumi mumbled. It was true he had used a shortsword so little he could count the times on one hand, but being reprimanded was making him feel almost like a child again.  He could and would work this out on his own.

“In Hoshido, yes. To be quite honest, I have a feeling I would fare far worse if a proper katana was in your hand,” Xander said. “Your brother was difficult to spar with, and you hold many of the same skills. Bow or sword I would be in for a tough match.”

Takumi bit his cheek. At this point he was sure to gnaw a wound on top of the countless others he made before. “I don’t want your pitiful praise.”

Xander shot him a surprised look. “There is no pity, simply facts. Another being how, despite all your skill, this is not Hoshido and you wield a shortsword in your hand instead.” He brushed a few wayward curls from his face. “You are, however, free to see how long your old techniques will survive here.”

Takumi scrunched his face up at that. Was Xander actually taunting him? Resolution grew in his mind as he squared himself up. He may not be the best swordsman, but he could prove he wasn’t some apprentice in need of teaching.

“Lift up your sword and we’ll see how long they last,” Takumi said, no genuine malice in his tone but still filled with hard determination.

Xander’s eyes stayed trained and focused on him. “I look forward to seeing it.”

Takumi waited for Xander to make the first strike. He liked to keep himself guarded and closed - hard for any loose jabs or strikes to sneak in. This was the king of Nohr that Takumi was handling after all. Still, the taller they are the harder they fall, right?

Takumi stepped back with each slash Xander sent his way. He kept his footsteps light and breezy, never lingering too long in one spot. Back and forth he let Xander try to hit him while Takumi only threw out a few feints here and there. No, he would have to wait. If there was anything he gained from archery and hunting, it was patience.

Still, fatigue wasn’t something that would come easily to Xander, and Takumi knew he would be a fool to wait on that. No, he would have to strike before then. What he was waiting for was balance.

Xander made sure to keep himself square footed in all his motions, strong and powerful but firm in his stance. Takumi knew he wouldn’t have the brute strength to best him, but he wouldn’t need that if momentum worked with him. Xander struck left and Takumi dodged right, before bouncing forward before Xander could straighten himself.

Katanas were agile blades, made for sharp and quick movements and razor thin slices. You didn’t need so much weight that you couldn't turn on a dime if needed like Nohrian blades. No, with Nohrian weapons you needed to commit, and have your shield at the ready for any other danger.

Xander had no such shield. Takumi slammed into the side of him, shoving Xander through his motions as Takumi raised his sword to land a blow against him. Let him topple and claim a disarmament. However, despite all of Takumi’s agility, he was still thrown off by Xander’s own quick reflexes. A hand grabbed his sword arm before it could strike and Xander pulled Takumi to the ground with him, letting them both slam onto the hard dirt.

Takumi let out a stuttered cough as he rolled away from him onto his back. He could hear Xander give out a very quick groan as he caught his own breath. Okay, so, maybe his plan didn’t go perfectly. This was still an improvement.

“I must admit,” Xander said. “I’m a bit surprised at the weight you carry.”

Takumi sat up at that, closing his eyes as he let the vertigo pass. Hitting the ground still sucked, success or not. “And what does that mean?”

Xander shook his head. “I mean no offense. Simply your small stature left me… underestimating I suppose. A mistake on my own part.” Takumi could see a small smile out of the corner of his eye and Xander pushed himself up. “I’ll have to avoid making that mistake in the future.”

Takumi focused on that smile for a moment before turning his head away. “Whatever. It was half luck anyway. I’d have to try a lot harder to topple you point blank.”

“I don’t think there’s many who can do that to begin with,” Xander said, moving to his feet. He turned and lent a hand down for Takumi to take. “I wouldn’t sell your own actions so short though. You are quick with a blade, even one you aren’t used to - it’s a wonder why you don’t use one more often.”

Takumi was positive he would have to break his painful habit before his developed anymore callouses in his mouth. In the back of his mind he heard his mother chiding him when he was young, dabbing at the blood on his lips.

He brushed the offered hand away but after a moment a short smile came to his own face. “I’m at my best with a bow in my hand for a reason. It is- nice though to work with a sword from time to time.”

Which was the case. When it came to training with Hinata, Takumi had no qualms about sparring with him. He did enjoy swordplay but… Bitter emotions formed in the back of his mind. There was no point in him brandishing one. No matter the reassurances and rationale he said to himself, there was always no point.

Besides, in the end, Takumi wasn’t sure if he could truly part with the Fujin Yumi. Even when riddled with anxiety and doubt he never felt more assured when summoning that bowstring. His mother trained him as a marksman and he was going to keep it that way.

Takumi pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his clothes. He fiddled with the edge of his shirt sleeve. “Hm, I hope none of these threads tore. Oboro will be furious…”

Xander peered at him. “I think they look fine, if a bit dirty.”

“Yeah, I can see that part.” Takumi gave Xander a quick once-over. He was a little pleased to see his clothes seemed a bit more dusted than his own. “They’ll live, I suppose.”

Xander nodded. “Indeed. This was- pleasant, Prince Takumi.”

Takumi couldn’t lie and say he thought any different. Jabs and minor taunts aside, sparring with someone else felt good. The itch in his hands had long since passed.

Besides… Takumi stole a glance towards Xander. It was also nice to see a bit more under the constant guard Xander held. The air between them felt almost… companionable like this.

Hesitance lingered in the back of his mind but Takumi gave a firm nod. “Yeah. Perhaps we’ll have to do a round two sometime.”

“I would enjoy that,” Xander said. “Truly... I’ve always found that sparring speaks better than actual words. Although perhaps that is just the case for me.”

“It certainly says something,” Takumi mumbled, stretching and sighing as his muscles tensed and relaxed.

He had heard similar things from Hinata and Oboro before. How sparring spoke in a way you couldn’t get across otherwise. If he was being honest, Takumi didn’t get it. He attributed it to his more solo preference of weapon but he didn’t see this hidden communication.

It made him wonder what Xander heard from him when Takumi swung his sword.

“Well, I think we should head back,” Xander said. “It is starting to get quite late.”

Takumi looked up at the full night sky, stars glittering up above. “Hm, I guess you’re right…”

“Besides, I doubt you’ll want to sleep in tomorrow,” Xander said.

“Hm?” Takumi asked, looking at him. “Do I have something planned tomorrow?” More wedding prep popped into his mind and he could feel exhaustion already hitting him.

Xander gave him a blank look before something akin to realization flashed over his face. “Oh- my apologies. I might have confused a few things.” Xander gave him a brief wave before turning and leaving to put his sword away, but Takumi swore he caught a glimpse of a smile. “Sleep well, Prince Takumi.”

“Hey-!” Takumi called after him but Xander had already disappeared inside. What exactly was he trying to hide from him?

Takumi huffed but pushed it aside for the moment. He had a feeling he would be useless to try and get it out of Xander now. Shaking his head, Takumi followed after him in silence. He was starting to get a bit tired.

A/N: I did minimal research on sword fighting and sword types and we will not discuss this issue any further I already regret it. If it made coherent sense than that's good enough for me.

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[darlingrutherford]

C and G for OC ask! :D

Aaaah, thank you so much for the ask!!

C: Comfort

1. how do they sit in a chair? 

Sarya Lavellan - She’s a bit more relaxed when sitting. Josephine has had to clear her throat loudly on occasion because she’ll turn her head and see Sarya sitting cross-legged in her chair (Josephine does her best to try to get Sarya acting a bit more “proper” for sake of impressing noble allies, to little avail). She’s more likely to slouch when sitting for long periods of time, especially once she starts daydreaming (which happens often). 

Lana Surana - Very straight-backed. She doesn’t cross her ankles beneath the chair or anything super proper like that, but she was definitely barked at to sit up straight enough times as a kid to have it drilled into her. Sometimes, if she feels herself beginning to slouch, she can hear her mother’s voice in her head as a warning and immediately rights herself. 

2. in what position do they sleep?

Sarya Lavellan - Sarya’s all over the place. When sleeping by herself she usually starts out on her side, and will wake up sometimes halfway off her bedroll hugging her pillow. When sleeping with Cullen, she usually starts out curled in towards him or him in towards her with his face buried just below her neck. Cullen quickly learns to hold onto her tightly, lest he wants to wake up with her ass in his face (not that he’d mind). 

Lana Surana - When alone, very curled up, making herself small. She often starts out with a blanket over her head to fall asleep, and then straightens out in her sleep and ends up on her back much like how she constantly straightens herself while sitting. This doesn’t change much when she’s with Alistair, starting out curled out with her back to Alistair, though she’s happy to trade in the blanket over her head for his arms which he keeps tight around her to keep her safe. She still ends up straightened out at some point in the night, which Alistair takes advantage of and ends up sprawled across her with his face in her chest (his “favorite pillow” as he likes to put it). 

3. what is their ideal comfort day?

Sarya Lavellan - A day with her friends and loved ones where nothing goes wrong and everyone is happy. No Anchor flaring in her hand, no demons, no Great Game to play, just laughter and maybe good cakes to share. 

Lana Surana - Spending time somewhere quiet, away from civilization, just Alistair and herself. Comfort is something that’s difficult for her to find after everything she’s been through and the impact it’s had on her views of herself, but she’s always found comfort in solitude, and Alistair has a way of making her relax that’s uncanny to her. 

4. what is their major comfort food? why?

Sarya Lavellan - Tea; she was trained as an herbalist on top of being a mage, so she’s able to make a tea and enchant it to suit her needs. Cakes are always a comfort as well, although not always as readily available as tea. She loves cakes because they had very little access to sweets like that in a roaming Dalish clan that stayed away from human settlements for the most part, so it’s become a bit of a delicacy for her.

Lana Surana - Fruit, especially berries. Her father used to give her berries as a treat, and she’s reminded of him whenever she eats them. The memories are bittersweet, but she’d rather remember than not at all.

5. who is the best at comforting them when down?

Sarya Lavellan - Dorian. Don’t get me wrong, Cullen is great at soothing her and making her happy, but Dorian is her best friend and always has the best gossip to take her mind off of things. He’s also a fierce friend and is ready to throw the sass right back at any Orlesian mistaking Sarya for a servant (or, on occasion, try to convince them that she’s his servant and they can go toss themselves if they think they can just go and steal his elf. Always good when he wants to make people stare). 

Lana Surana - Alistair. He goes the extra mile to cheer her up when she’s down, and lucky for him she loves his sense of humor so it’s not difficult for him. He’s also very intuitive when it comes to her hiding her feelings, so he can catch her before she goes too far down into a dark hole. 

G: Gorgeous

1. what is their most attractive external feature?

(These were actually really hard for me to come up with from my perspective, which is immensely funny to me for some reason. So, I’m writing these from the perspective of their romance)

Sarya Lavellan - (From Cullen’s perspective): Maker’s breath, I have to choose just one? Then, I suppose… her mouth, specifically the way it curves when she smiles. The trio of freckles on the back of her left shoulder, the ones just below her neckline. Come now, you can’t possibly expect me to pick just one.

Lana Surana - (From Alistair’s perspective): What, her most attractive external feature? Liiike, her adorable little nose? But then, what about her gorgeous blue eyes? Oooor… her, ah, breasts, because… well, those are… ahem… very nice as well, you’ve… probably noticed. I mean, I have… Who wouldn’t? 

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality?

Sarya Lavellan - Probably her want to help others. She’s very genuine and wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s usually the first person to jump to their feet when someone is expressing any need, and will stay dutifully at a friend’s side when they’re ill or sad or just in general need someone. She chose Mythal’s markings for her vallaslin for a reason.

Lana Surana - Her fierce loyalty. Lana tries not to get too close to people, but she will defend them with all she has. She believes it’s her duty to protect people, and will especially go out of her way to protect those who have ever so much as smiled in her direction out of fear of them being hurt because of her. 

3. what benefits come with being their friend?

Sarya Lavellan - A friend of Sarya’s is always cared for. If she finds them to be dissatisfied, she will try to find a way to lift their spirits. If they are ill, she’ll nurse them back to health. Plus, being a close friend of the Inquisitor has its own perks for sure. 

Lana Surana - Someone who always has your back, who is quiet but loud when it comes to defending you. She’s easily amused, so your jokes are sure to get a laugh no matter how dorky. 

4. what parts of them do they like and dislike?

Sarya Lavellan - Sarya is proud of being a mage, of having abilities that allow her to help others in ways that not everyone can (this also extends to her herbalist abilities). She wishes she could be more outspoken and stand up for herself better around people she doesn’t know, and also wishes that she dealt with chaos better (and her life has been nothing but chaos since the Conclave).

Lana Surana - This one was difficult to answer for Lana because there’s a lot of self loathing because of her past. If she could pick something to like about herself, it would probably be her appreciation of solitude. She can go a long time without speaking to someone and feel at peace. She very much dislikes being a mage, and is convinced that if she had not come into magic then nothing would have happened the way it did. She sees being a mage as somewhat of a curse, and being a Grey Warden as her penance for everything bad that her magic has brought upon those she knew. 

5. what parts of others do they envy?

Sarya Lavellan - Sarya envies Vivienne’s confidence, Cullen’s willpower, and Josephine’s ability to make heads or tails of the Great Game.

Lana Surana - Other than not being a mage, Lana envies Alistair’s lighthearted nature in spite of everything that’s happened to him, Morrigan’s pride in being a mage, and Leliana’s knack for seeing every detail even in tricky situations.