#helga arias

[dyinggirldied]

Puppet part 2

Part 1

[princesssarisa]

The Top 40 Most Popular Operas, Part 2 (#11 through #20)

A quick guide for newcomers to the genre, with links to online video recordings of complete performances, with English subtitles whenever possible.

Johann Strauss II's Die Fledermaus

The most famous Viennese operetta, a rollickling comedy set amid Vienna's high society.

Studio film, 1971 (Eberhard Wächter, Gundula Janowitz, Renate Holm, Waldemar Kmennt, Wolfgang Windgassen; conducted by Karl Böhm)

Mozart's Cosí Fan Tutte

A comedy of romantic partner-swapping, its cynical libretto juxtaposed with Mozarts sublime music.

Zürich Opera, 2009 (Malin Hartelius, Anna Bonitatibus, Javier Camarena, Ruben Drole, Martina Janková, Oliver Widmer; conducted by Franz Welser-Möst)

Verdi's Aida

The quintessential "grand opera": a tragedy of love vs. duty and country amid the pomp and pageantry of ancient Egypt, which inspired the Elton John/Tim Rice musical of the same name.

St. Margarethen Opera Festival, 2004 (Eszter Sümegi, Kostadin Andreev, Cornelia Helfricht, Igor Morosow; conducted by Josef Pancik)

Humperdinck's Hänsel & Gretel

The quintessential "children's opera," based on the classic fairy tale.

Studio film, 1981 (Brigitte Fassbaender, Edita Gruberova, Sena Jurinac, Hermann Prey, Helga Dernesch; conducted by Georg Solti)

Donizetti's L'Elisir d'Amore (The Elixir of Love)

A sweet romantic comedy in the Italian bel canto style.

Vienna State Opera, 2005 (Rolando Villazon, Anna Netrebko, Leo Nucci, Ildebrando d'Arcangelo; conducted by Alfred Eschwé)

Puccini's Turandot

A dark fairy tale of love and deadly riddles in ancient China: controversial in its Orientalism, but with thrilling music, including the ever-famous tenor aria "Nessun dorma."

Opera Hong Kong, 2018 (Oksana Dyka, Alfred Kim, Valeria Sepe, George Andguladze; conducted by Paolo Olmi)

Die Lustige Witwe (The Merry Widow)

Another iconic example of Viennese comic operetta.

Metropolitan Opera, 2014 (Renée Fleming, Nathan Gunn, Kelli O'Hara, Alek Shrader, Thomas Allen; conducted by Andrew Davis) (sung in English)

Act I, Act II, Act III

Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin

The most famous of all Russian operas, based on Alexander Pushkin's great verse novel of unrequited love.

Kirov Opera, 1984 (Sergei Leiferkus, Tatiana Novikova, Yuri Marusin, Larissa Diadkova; conducted by Yuri Temirkanov)

Verdi's Nabucco

The grand Biblical opera, based on the story of Nebuchadnezzar, that first launched Verdi to fame.

St. Margarethen Opera Festival, 2007 (Igor Morosow, Gabriella Morigi, Bruno Ribiero, Elisabeth Kulman, Simon Yang; conducted by Ernst Märzendorfer) (click CC for subtitles)

Rossini's La Cenerentola (Cinderella)

The world's most famous fairy tale reimagined as a "realistic" comedy of manners with sparkling bel canto music.

Studio film, 1981 (Frederica von Stade, Francisco Araiza, Paolo Montarsolo, Claudio Desderi, Paul Plishka; conducted by Claudio Abbado)

[princessmagichuman]

My New OC for a new Franchise I’m making. 

Name: Stormi

Species: Dog

Breed: Bull Terrier 

Age: 28

Gender: Female 

Pronouns: She/Her

Personality: Vengeful, Withdrawn, Rude

Likes: TBA

Neutral: TBA

Dislikes: Galactic Beartones, people talking trash about her and her own band songs, losing 

Interests: Making Music, destroying Galactic Beartones, 

Born with: TBA

Diagnoise with or not: TBA

Fur Color: White 

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Black with Red Dye 

Sexuality: Omnisexual 

Romantic Orientation: Panromantic

Relationship Status: Taken

Status: Alive

Birthday: May 13 1996

Bio: She’s leader of the band The Echoing Wraiths from the Planet called Gananella. She met her friends band mates from different planets. Before heard about Galactic Beartones, they’ve became a popular band. 

Friends: Jaxon, Christopher, Aurora (Lion), Aria (Dragon), Helga (Goat), and Ashton (Snake)

Family: TBA

Enemies: Skylar Zaino, Valentina Cloud, Bamboo Nakajima, Raven Bernard, Jasper Parry, Bear Hermandaz, Cheyenne Davis, Planet Vadalla, 

Her Crush/Lover: TBA

Height: 5’5

Weight: 132

Nationality: American

Ethic: Black 

Birth Planet: Gananella

Native Language: English

Languages that she's speaks: TBA

Instruments: Microphone and Electric Guitar 

Alignment: Good

OC and Art belongs me

[viva-la-runaway]

Another late duel release because I was tired after work yesterday. Motive to draw died idk.

Anyway, June 17th and 18th!

First, we have Camila, who is a lesbian! She grew up in Barcelona, Spain, with her grandparents. She enjoys going to concerts, studying geology, collecting pins, and watching obscure YouTube documentaries with Adalet and Rico. Camila joined the A.R.T when she was 18. She was kidnapped by the El Coco when she was little. Her parents had died, and her brother was a drunken mess over it, so he couldn't care for her, leading to her grandparents having to take custody of her. This led to behavior problems, which caused El Coco to kidnap her. She escaped but injured herself in the process, leaving her paralyzed. Her brother managed to find her before anything worse happened. She now works as a route planner/coms worker for Helga’s team and is the last member of the team to be featured in this challenge!

Then we also have Reagan, who is pansexual! She grew up in Honolulu, Hawaii, with her moms. She enjoys swimming, dancing, yapping Helga’s ear off, and she loves her job! Reagan was taken to the foundation at the age of 18 after an encounter with a siren. Without her hearing aids, she was deaf and unaffected by the siren call. Her presence in the foundation skyrocketed after her assignment on what is commonly known as “The Backrooms.” Helga and a woman named Magnolia’s success on the assignment led to them gaining their own teams. On the other hand, Reagan earned a promotion as a recruiter after convincing Dima, who was also on the assignment, to stay with The A.R.T permanently. Reagan is responsible for the recruitment of many A.R.T members, such as Aria, Klaus, Barnaby, Kona, and other members of both Helga and Magnolia’s team.

Happy Pride month to all the lesbians and pansexuals!

[eweeka]

Quick Navigation

I've made this post so you could easily find my original content here. It will be updated as I'll be posting here drawings of my other characters.

Forest Spirits comic

Gother || Violetta || Bella

Other characters Rosalinda || Mercy || Gretha || Silvermane

Team X comic

Team X Dorian || Ida || Floris || Berta || Louis || Bastien || Aldrin

Vexuro Crew Tenebres || Lagoon || Araed || Tabasumi || Vetnar || Zaira || Hewa Krudians team Elatha || Hugh || Laura || Mabh || Larkin || Teith and Leith Deadly Trio Hanta || Soren || Cargen

Other secondary characters Banrion || Lord Ardius || Baron Daray || Count Sioda || Lady Finnseach || Gertrude || Renate || Victor || Julia || Robert || Bowie || Kyra || Artis || Carmen || Linette || Ljos || Sheridan || Haroc || Episodic characters Amarisa || Rose || Hilda || Commissioner Horace || Victoria || Helga || Savar || Silver || Albion || Talaith || Gervazo || Gerda || Sarah || Marmadou || Merrit || Erica || Sharon || Adara || Eria || Ryan || Aria || Vakati || Ester || Emreisan || Ashka || Emily || Ruben || Rafer || Sylvia || Thetys || Tyrtaeus || Shadow

[umbravirtus]

While a lot of the brothers have been here to read for her or just spend time with her, Franz has been the most constant presence by her side.

As the Southern Isles' field marshal, in a time of peace, he was just a bored paper pusher. Reading reports, and following up with operations and his underlings. All of that, he could do from her bedside while she slept. While she was awake, Franz read for her.

Drawing from his own loss and grief, he still remembers how the weight of losing his wife cut him under the knees. By the time Helga --Lar's wife -- Passed the family was more prepared for a loss. But he was alone and he understood that in a way, she was too.

At the meal refusal, he offers her a semi-hard candy. Sometimes it takes a very little thing to entice appetite. It was made out of his own honey reserved, it had lavender and some other flowers that he couldn't remember, and it was made by Aria, and when a thing seemed too daunting like having a whole meal, he knew a smaller one might do. He unwraps it in front of her. "At least try this candy, please?" he tries and then waits.

He doesn't stare at her, instead, he picks up the book he was reading. He kept his voice calm and even, eventually, he knew, his voice would be background, known, noise. Comfortable because it was expected.

That's all he could offer her, for now, the rest, would come with time.

[elmartillosinmetre]

Mi crítica al concierto del Grup Instrumental de Valencia esta noche en el Espacio Turina.

[genevieveetguy]

I went to an orgy after the concert, but I could only think of you.

Labyrinth of Passion (Laberinto de pasiones), Pedro Almodóvar (1982)

[peter-ash]

(Diseño del cártel Iván Zulueta)

[lifejustgotawkward]

365 Day Movie Challenge (2019) - #165: Labyrinth of Passion (1982) - dir. Pedro Almodóvar

To the untrained eye, Labyrinth of Passion may seem like an amateurish jumble of kooky ideas. For those of who love Pedro Almodóvar, however, it is an absolutely essential, balls-to-the-wall excursion into punk-rock insanity. This movie truly has everything you need from a portrait of Madrid’s underground LGBTQ+ community: Cecilia Roth as a New Wave band’s nymphomaniac frontwoman, Imanol Arias as a bisexual prince from a fictional Middle Eastern country, Helga Liné as the prince’s obsessive stepmother, Antonio Banderas as an Islamic terrorist who’s in love with the prince, Marta Fernández Muro as a young woman whose demented father believes she’s his wife, Fernando Vivanco as a biologist (as well as Roth’s father) who is repulsed by sex, Ofelia Angélica as a psychiatrist who treats Roth and lusts after Vivanco, and in my favorite touch, Almodóvar himself - glammed up in oversized earrings, eye makeup and lipstick, a leather jacket that functions as a short dress, fishnets and heels - and Fabio McNamara as flamboyant singers who put their unique artistic stamp on a tune titled “Suck It to Me.” The whole shebang culminates in a mad dash to an airport, reminiscent of Almodóvar’s later comedy Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. In other words, it’s the gay punk farce that John Waters would have made if he’d lived in Spain in the early 80s. Could you really ask for more?

[mrfahrenheit92]

[dyinggirldied]

Manhwa/novel plots with two sisters who decide to become villainesses and work together, in fashionably style no less. 

[notesonfilm1]

Thinking Aloud About Film: Pedro Almodóvar 2: Labyrinth of Passion

Thinking Aloud About Film: Pedro Almodóvar 2: Labyrinth of Passion

We discuss Almodóvar’s second feature, Labyrinth of Passion, where Almodóvar himself appears both as director and rock star in minor roles. We talk about its convoluted plot, its verbal and visual campyness, its anti-authoritarian stance and its status as a youth film. We note how even in his second film, there are evident connections with his first film (not least in the recurring cast) and plot…

[queerchoicesblog]

An Unexpected Turn of Events

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in Vienna, one of the iconic capitals of opera at the time of Mozart. An emerging singer gets the chance to be an understudy in the latest Mozart’s discussed opera Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro), that  premiered at the Burgtheater in Vienna on 1 May 1786, w and play the pants role of the page Cherubino. Preparing for the role doesn’t quite go as planned… .

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapter: The Understudy

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

____________________

A couple of days later I go back to Melchiorri for another session as planned. He is inflexible that I allow my voice to rest at least one day before practising again not to damage it. As I observe the streets of Vienna passing by from my carriage, I wonder if the little fugitive will visit us today too and a tiny smile crosses my lips. I should be bothered by such unprofessionalism but surprisingly I enjoyed the interruption. A private comedic enteract. It also reminded me the maestro is human: I stole a glance of the domestic, family life people like me is generally unfamiliar with. I don't plan to marry anytime soon honestly if I can avoid it, despite what my Aunt claims. I owe her and my uncle, the wealthy side of my family, everything. She brought me away from the small town by the Alps I lived with Mom, Dad and Hans, my little brother in a wooden cottage by a stream. We weren't indigents, we owned a small typography in town that mainly served the local journal of the valley and well, the church crafting the prayer books you would find on the bench every day at mass. We weren't rich with either: you don't exactly became high socialite with so little. Hans is now running the typography as my father's eyes are not the ones he used to have since he got sick. I don't envy my poor brother; I am glad I got my way out of that life. I am eternally grateful to Auntie Helga for insisting to drag me to Graz and deciding to turn me into a star of the opera after hearing me perform a solo in the church choir during one of her - not so frequent, actually - visits.

Auntie built her fortune over a good marriage with a promising young lawyer who couldn't resist her charm and eventually allowed her to live in sober luxury and even be invited to court. But that seemed to be her sole aspiration in life: she left the small town and never looked back. I am an opera singer, I want more. My career comes first and I have yet to meet a worthy match honestly. And no, I don't want to be a puppet, a doll to a man who will eventually ask me to leave the stage and my beloved arias to look after a child or be a proper wife, whatever it means. So, no, thanks, I chuckle in my head while taking the hand the driver offer me to get off the carriage. When I knock at the door, I am considering that maybe Herr Giorgio is not that bad, even if I didn't like the way he addressed the maid and the poor naughty boy. Nor the lusty looks he throws me. The maid welcomes me with a smile and a little reverence. Good girl, probably she expects me to chastise her too. As if I had any intention to do so! She takes my fur and quickly disappear into the wardrobe room before walking back towardsme. I thank her for her zeal but I know the way to the music room, the maestro is surely waiting for me, I say. I start walking but what she says next makes me freeze, confused. "Actually, Miss...the master is not here today. I'm very sorry. His wife is waiting for you in the tea room". What? That...that must be a joke. The maestro hired to prepare me last minute disappears before the official rehearsals. I turn and throw a bad look at the poor maid, who doesn't deserve it in the least. She's just a messenger, her eyes beg before lowering them to her feet. She's right, my anger is all for Mister Melchiorri. What do I do now? "Whatever, lead the way then" I exclaim, following her. "I can't wait to hear what the fair lady has to say about this". My voice is cold, sardonic; the girl doesn't say a single word while we walk in the opposite direction than my usual route in the house. She's certainly too afraid to dare say a thing. When we finally arrive to the right room, she knocks politely at the door and steps in when a female voice comes from the inside. She bows her head and announces my presence before disappearing back down the corridor. She stops only to let the door open for me. I let out an annoyed sigh and enter. The room is significantly different from the maestro's studio. No instruments, only paintings at the walls and fresh flowers on the little tables around the room. The perfume is delicate and inebriating: are they orchids, I wonder? A neat wooden library holds the place of honour on the main wall, opposite the fireplace and framed by windows that fills the whole room by natural light, even if the sun doesn't shine today: it will probably rain soon. Letting my eyes wonder outside I spot green and a carousel: I didn't realise we were so close to a park! Unlike the music room, here even if the furniture, the velvet armchairs, the Persian rugs, every decor are certainly expensive, the atmosphere is surprisingly...cozy, an adjective I would have never thought of associated with Melchiorri's place. It's almost inviting, calming? "Miss Bauer, I am so incredibly sorry for the the latest developments and all the trouble they must bring on you...but please, take a seat! Franziska will be back soon with fresh tea". I turn to see a woman gesturing me to join her by the fireplace. Her German has a thick Italian accent which gives her "a bit of exotic" as they say at court. She doesn't wear a wig, her long raven hair are done up in an elaborate grateful chignon and two curly strands frame her visage. She reminds me one of those shepherdesses portrayed in bucolic frescos at the Emperor's Palace. Her dress is not in character though: a plain, cerulean dress which is not necessarily cheap but does nothing to enhance her figure. Poor taste probably: even money can do little about it sometimes. She must be in her early thirties or so I wager and thinner than most ladies I know in her standing...I wonder why Melchiorri chose her if he's so clearly fond of female curves. Maybe it's another arranged loveless marriage. I wouldn't be surprised. I oblige and thank her politely, forgetting my anger for a moment. It surprises me, it must be a reflex, a natural response the soothing silky voice of the lady. Like the feral beasts tamed by the gentle melody of Orpheus' song, I think trying to shake away such thought. I suddenly realise that I don't know her name. Melchiorri never talked about her. But I don't want to tell her: it's not a nice thing to say to a wife, right? As if reading my thoughts, she shakes her head slightly embarassed. "I forgot my manners, didn't I?" she sighs. "You must forgive me, Miss, I do not receive many visitors lately and I've never been introduced to famous opera singers...nor any of my husband's pupils. My name is Cecilia, Cecilia Melchiorri". I feel a pang of sadness for this lady excluded from the theatre world his husband works in. I don't get why she has to be cast out like that. I've met other illustrious wives at social gatherings around Vienna or at court. I offer her my hand, gesturing no apologies are needed, and repeat her name. "Cecilia...". Sadly, I completely butcher it: I studied Italian for the opera but my Austrian tongue is still incapable to recreate the sweet sounds that comes so natural to her. It must not be the first time because her lips curl in a quick understanding smile. "You can call me Lia, if it's easier for you. My family used to call me so". Lia...what a pretty little name. I smile, grateful. "I will then, if you don't mind...Lia. You can call me Constanze: it seems only fair". "As you wish, Miss Bauer!" she says before realising her mistake. We share an amused look, even if hers is a bit more bashful. In that moment, after another polite knock, Franziska returns with the tea and some butter biscuits. They're different from the ones Mister Melchiorri usually offers me in his studio. She's serving the tea when a familiar figure materialises on the threshold of the room at my peripheral. Lia is giving him the shoulders so she can't see him. I turn in his direction with a smirk. "I believe we've already met, right, Sir?" The two women turn at unison too and the kid childishly hides his face but doesn't move. After a moment he spies us through his fingers and retrieves his hands, smiling. Franziska puts the tray underneath her arm and tells Lia that she will bring him to his room, making the boy pout. He's quite the character. "Maybe he followed you because he just wants a biscuit" I say, my eyes wandering between them to check if I'm overstepping. "Maybe you're right...but only if he doesn't bother you" Melchiorri's wife concedes with a tired smile. I shake my head and take the decorated plate in my hands. "Would you like one?" I ask in Italian to her son, not sure if he speaks proper German. His face brightens up and he nods enthusiastically. We share a soft laugh, even the maid joins. He gets ready to speed across the room when he stops, considering. He searches his mother for approval. Lia nods, asking to behave like a good boy though. So he approaches slower than he wanted, with great effort to refrain himself, and grabs a biscuit from the plate. Before taking a generous bite, he mutters a quick thank you. "Mystery solved" I comment, placing the plate back on the table. "You must excuse him, Miss Ba- Constanze" Lia say, gently pulling him closer. "Nino is not a bad kid, just a bit of a rascal at times". "A rascal with a sweet tooth" Franziska adds and we share another laughter. "I'm so sorry he interrupted your private session the other day. Franziska had quite a fair share of work to do and I was indisposed in my room, I couldn't look after him as I usually do". I dismiss her apologies, taking a sip of tea. "But it was fun, wasn't it?" I wink at Nino who chuckles. "Yes and she sings very well, Ma" he says, turning to his mother. "Of course, I heard her too from my room" she smiles. "She's a promise of the opera, it's written on the newspapers". "Sing again?" the little boy begs, expectantly. His childish enthusiasm amuses me. "I cannot do those trills now, I need to warm up my voice first" I apologise, before winking. "Another time, I promise". Lia whispers something into his ear and he thanks me, concealing his disappointment. Crumbs are stuck on his lips and make the smile that follows a bit funnier than it was supposed to be. "Now, sweetheart, why don't you follow Franziska back to the kitchen?" She says, stroking his curls. "Take another biscuit and she will give you a glass of milk, just as you like it, huh?". She doesn't have to say it twice: while the maid gently places and arm around his shoulders, guiding him away, he takes not one but two biscuits in his hands. He throws me a conspiratorial look before chuckling. Then he turns towards Lia and stretches his neck to kiss her cheek. She caresses his face and tells him to be good with Franziska. When the two of them are out of the room, she meets my gaze again, shaking hear head. "Apologies, Miss...I sent Franziska to buy these for you this morning and he managed to put his eyes on them. He became obsessed". "Kids" I shrug, unbothered. I am pleasantly impressed that she had such a kind gesture towards me. I mean it could be a way to get on my good side because of the news she has to give me...but after all, this situation is not her fault. Her husband left her to deal with this and me all alone. She turns serious and sighs. "Anyway, have you heard of the flooding near Salzburg?". "What?". "Torrential rain lead to conspicuous floodings in the area surrounding Salzburg. I don't know if Giorgio mentioned it to you but he head there after your session for a family emergency....his brother lives there". "I'm afraid he didn't say a thing about his little journey" I say, trying my hardest not to look angered, even if I am: I would have rather be informed sooner of such details. By the look on her face I can tell she expected such an answer. "He surely thought he would be back in time today, he didn't mention staying for long. But during the night the weather deteriorated and the roads are pretty much impracticable, so to speak. We've just received a note saying he will be back as soon as travelling conditions are restored and the emergency solved. Probably a couple of days...maybe more? He must have sent you a similar one, you just missed it because you were on your way here already". "A couple of days? Maybe more?" I exclaim. That's not promising... "The rehearsals start in a week" I frown. "I still need to practise...". "You are free to do it here if you wish, Miss" she suggests, apologetic yet encouraging. "I am perfectly aware this is a hideous setback for you with such a tight schedule. You must believe me when I say I wish we never put you in this situation...if there's anything I can do, Miss, ask away. I'm not my husband but...". I consider her words for a moment. My mind runs wild to find a solution for this unexpected unfavourable circumstance. I could find another maestro maybe but how, within such a short notice and little time before official rehearsals begin? I could do it on my own but another sudden foolish idea crosses my mind. "Do you play the cello, Mrs. Lia?" I must have taken her by surprise by the look on her face. She tries to conceal it, refilling her cup. "Why, yes. My father was a musician, I took cello classes in my youth but I don't see how this-". "Excellent! Then you can take your husband's place until the he’s back" I exclaim, cutting her short. My words must come as a shock: she almost spits her tea. "Beg pardon, Miss?". "You will be my maestro, well understudy maestro for the time being" I smile, explaining. "You said yourself that you can play the cello, you can assist me as I practice". "But...but I don't have my husband expertise" she objects, at loss of words. "You heard me practicing with your husband, right? So you must know how it should sound. And that aside, you can even tell yourself if my performance is good or not: you have ears too, if I am not mistaken". She opens her mouth to say something, anything to make me change my mind and spare her such thing...but nothing comes. Her lips presses together for a moment before she places her cup back on the table. "Very well, then...if you think it would work" she smiles weakly. "Just be patient with me: I do not usually play opera arias".

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 21- The Seer

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count:4640

Warnings: None

AN: This one’s kinda boring, but it moves everything along.

20- Always A Hero Comes Home

...

A new thrall bounces quietly about the room, lighting all the candles in the chambers now that darkness has descended over Kattegat.

Her name was Geirdis, a frightened little thing, possibly a few years younger than Artemis herself. She was dutiful, doing what was expected of her, except Artemis felt she was in no position to be giving the poor girl orders. Even now she felt a slight discomfort with her presence, knowing she could do all these simple tasks herself.

Artemis was once in her place, serving a haughty prince, but somehow, that all felt so long ago. As far as she was concerned, she was just Kattegat's blacksmith, second only to Arvid's father and his young apprentice. She preferred it that way as it resembled the simple life she once had. Her only privilege was that she slept beside the king, nothing out of the ordinary here in Kattegat, but something shameful where she was from.

There was a chill in the air that night, the signs of winter rearing its head. Clusters of ravens cawed into the night sky loud enough to spark her curiosity, pulling at the fur draped over the window for a glance. The dark creatures circled about the trees and were hard to make out in the darkness. The more intently she stared, the closer they seemed to be, until suddenly one appeared opposite the glass, its large wings flapping wildly as it cawed, its beady black eyes looking straight at her.

She lets out a yelp, stepping back while placing a hand to her chest in an attempt to calm her beating heart.

"My lady?" Geirdis calls out to her. She turns her attention away from the window in favor of looking at the young blonde girl, her chest slightly heaving. Geirdis eyes her for a moment, a look of confusion clouding her face.

Did she not hear the cawing of the raven?

"Please, there is no need to address me in such a way." Artemis finally says to her with a sigh, shaking her head to dispel the sudden shock that ran through her bones. Such titles were a nuisance, why should she be regarded in such a way? She was no lady.

Her eyes landed on Geirdis's hands, in which she held two luxurious garments, one a rich red, the other a soft blue. 

"You are the kings intended, my lady, I must," Geirdis says, walking over to place the dresses upon the bed, "The seamstress has made these for you upon the king's orders."

Both dresses were exceptional in design and beautifully crafted. Made of wool, they were meant to fight the chill that would soon take over Kattegat. Embroidered in a delicate way, with precious stones stitched within, they were fit for a woman of noble birth. Artemis gravitates towards the blue dress, admiring the small sea pearls and the delicate silver stitching that she could never have mastered herself. The wool was soft, much softer and prettier than anything she'd ever owned.

"When did he request these?"

"About a fortnight ago, my lady." Ivar seemed eager to plan the festivities. It made her smile.

"My lady!" Aria's familiar voice calls from behind the leather curtain. The redhead peaks her head in, waiting for permission to enter.

"Aria, it is far too late," Artemis rolls her eyes but motions for her to come in, "How did you manage to slip away under Erik's nose? And don't call me that!" Aria laughs, quickly glancing at Geirdis's nervous form before answering.

"He is asleep, quite exhausted from certain activities," The younger thrall blushes but says nothing while Artemis shakes her head,"And Dafi let me in, of course. I like him by the way, the king has given you a handsome guard." Artemis snorts at Aria's obvious promiscuity.

"I only wanted to let you know, the Jarl intends to go back to his lands after your wedding ceremony." Aria says with a sad smile. Artemis frowns, but nods in understanding. She hadn't had the luck of making many friends, and Aria was the best of them, besides Helga.

"But," Aria continues, "At least I will see you as a bride before I go. It feels like only yesterday that I was teaching you to mend, and now you are to be marrying a king." The green eyed girl laughs, quickly taking Artemis into a tight embrace.

"I wish there was something I could do for you." Artemis says sadly. The Jarl would never dare part with his favorite thrall. Geirdis's light eyes widened at their interaction before turning her head at the sounds of her mistress's dog barking in glee, followed by the familiar thumping of a crutch.

"My king!" Geirdis bows her head, with Aria immediately following suit. Ivar carefully walks in, pushing past the leather curtain. He looked massive standing at his full height. He wore his usual leather, but it was simplistic. Upon his shoulders was a small pelt of grey fur, giving him the appearance of a giant wolf. He purses his lip, surprised at the red head's presence before his eyes fall to Artemis.

"Why don't you just buy her from Erik?" He asks nonchalantly, making his way over bed and gently moving the dresses away, "Leave us." He says to both the thralls with a lazy hand gesture. They bow before him once again, making a quick exit.

"I don't think the Jarl would appreciate that very much," Artemis answers him with a smile, "She has her...duties."

"And yet, I always find her in your company." Ivar replies, yawning as he leans back against his elbows. He had risen early that morning, out scouting with Hvitserk and Heahmund on the whereabouts of his other two brothers. Still no luck.

"I happen to enjoy her company." She says, grabbing his crutch and kneeling before him to remove his metal cages. He hisses silently, the pain inevitable, but let's her finish the job.

"Wear the blue one." He grunts suddenly.

"Hmm?" She moves from the iron to focus on how the candlelight illuminated his features perfectly.

"For the wedding," He says quietly, "Wear the blue one."

“What of the red one?”

“Blue is more your color,” Ivar shrugs, “I just wanted to give you options.” Artemis grins, cocking her head at the timid little look he was trying to hide.

"If that is what you wish," She says to him teasingly, "Thank you for the lovely dresses." She smiles when he waves his hand with a light snort, a flush spreading over his cheeks. She places his braces and crutch aside for easy access in the morning before climbing atop the bed behind him, working the braids and twists out his hair. Her nails scratch lightly against his scalp, and he groans in delight, like a kitten purring in her arms.

"You will make a lovely queen." He says, eyes closed as he lowers his head to her lap, a sweet smile on his playing on his lips.

"You think so," She sighs, gently pulling at the small knots that had formed during the day, "But will I be the right queen?" She says this more to herself than to him, but Ivar cracks a blue eye open in response, his brow pulling together in that innocently confused fashion.

"You are worried," He states, perhaps knowing more than he let on. He knew that the prospect of marriage frightened her, her usual nervous antics in plain sight. It was not because she felt any less for Ivar, he knew that. He guarded her heart as she guarded his and it was absolute, a life line that the fates wouldn't dare to cut. A love had blossomed where no one thought a seed to grow.

"How is a foreigner to rule your people?" She asks him.

"They will become your people too, baby bird. Do not be so fearful."

"Why do you make it seem so simple, hmm?" Artemis scoffs but continues massaging his scalp, effectively releasing the sighs and groans of a hard day, "You have been a prince all your life, and now a king. Your people have always respected you."

It was Ivar's turn to scoff.

"You think my legs have given me any respect?" There was something in the way he said those words, almost like a twinge of anger, maybe even sadness. When they left his mouth she knew she'd said something wrong.

"The children always laughed at me, the people spoke ill of me, my own father left me on a hill to die," Ivar chuckles darkly, placing an arm over his face, as if the physical action would guard him against his memories. "I have been underestimated my entire life, and yet, I've earned the respect of the army, and I've earned the respect of the people. Now who do they follow? A cripple, but a true son of Ragnar." He removes his arm away from his face, his eyes searching hers. What he saw was uncertainty. He brings a hand to trace a finger down her soft cheek, causing her eyes to flutter gently.

"A true follower of the gods." He says softly, swiping the very tip of his finger over her lips. Closing her eyes, she removes her hands away from his silken dark strands, letting them fall over her lap.

"I’m sorry," She says weakly, "I did not mean-"

"You'd make an excellent queen." He cuts her off, grunting as he pushes forward to lean against his elbows again. Carefully, he turns his torso to face her. His loose hair in waves shape the sides of his face, a brightness in his large eyes. In that moment he did not appear to be Ivar The Boneless who so many have created fearsome stories of.

"What makes you say so?" She questions stubbornly, sliding off the bed and taking hold of the dresses to carefully store in her brown chest at the foot of the bed.

"You are not selfish, nor prideful," Ivar lists, "And you have worked along side the people of Kattegat. You know of their struggles and they know of yours. Your hands bare the mark of hardship. Who will understand their needs better than you and I, hmm? Come here." He extends his hand out for her to take, and when she does, he gently pulls her into an embrace.

"You have been blessed by the gods," He says against her hair, a repetitive of his. She closes her eyes at his warmth surrounding her, "You may not see it now, but you will in time. This is where you were meant to be. Right here."

Artemis cracks a smile, sitting beside him. Her hand follows a path that led from his leather covered chest, to his broad shoulders. She removes the fur, her hands finally settling on the nape of his neck, absentmindedly weaving her fingers in his hair. She burrows her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply.

"You mean in your arms?" She asks knowingly, and could feel the smile growing on his lips before he placed a kiss atop her head, and then shifting to bend lower, molding his lips with hers.

"Mhm. In my arms."

...

"That dog of yours is no hound." Heahmund comments in Greek, watching with lazy eyes as the once abandoned creature stomps about with large paws, his black wrinkly face covered in drool. The beast quickly sniffs at the dying grass before turning to Heahmund as if he heard and understood the comment.

Artemis smiles, watching as the bishop bends low, beckoning the large pup over with his hands. The dog wastes no time in stomping over, large tongue hanging out his mouth as he ran, almost taking down the bishop with his brute strength.

"Then what is he?" She asks, raising her bow and aiming her sharp arrow at the target hammered to the tree. Taking a deep breath, she lets go of the tight bow string, hurling the arrow into its destination with ease. The arrow head pierced the center of the wooden target, and she cheered. Her aim was nearly perfect, and the new arrow heads she had forged had done its job.

"He's a mastiff, a guard dog. The Lords in England use them to protect their castles."

"Hmm.” That explained why he guards the chamber entry with Dafi. She whistles, and the pup forgets Heahmund in favor of his mistress, who scratches behind both his floppy ears lovingly. In his excitement he barks in glee, tongue lapping out at her.

"What did you name him?"

"Heracles."

"A famous Greek." Heahmund hums in approval. Heracles was almost as large as Ivar's adult elkhounds, and far from the little abandoned pup she had found back in York. Left behind in Vestfold along with Ivar's hounds, King Harald's men had brought the beasts back once Ivar had established his rule in Kattegat.

He did not sniff the ground rigorously, nor fetch things as hounds would, but his massive size was extremely intimidating, and he had a fierce loyalty and sense of protection towards the woman that took him in, as well as the king, who had now grown a softness for the english creature.

Readying her bow, Artemis takes her stance once again, straightening her back in well practiced movements. Another arrow shot perfectly, but before she can prepare the next one, Heahmund clears his throat.

"Ivar has been speaking of plans for the wedding."

His tone was so nonchalant, that Artemis missed it at first, pulling the arrow from her quiver. She hesitated, turning to him to give her full attention. She knew it was a matter of time before he'd mention that he knew.

"Has he?"

"Is this what you want?" Heahmund countered back, his steady eyes on her, making her feel quite small. He always had that effect, and was one of the reasons why she had disliked him so much from the start.

"Why? Will you try and change my mind?" She challenges. Heracles immediately sensed her foul mood forming, bouncing over to sit by her feet.

"You are a Christian," The bishop  starts, "A union between a Christian and a heathen is unheard of."

"Ivar has told me his uncle married into Frankish nobility."

"For that to be finalized he had to be baptized as a Christian. And what will you have to do? Convert to their pagan ways?"

"I recall you speaking to me of destinies." Artemis forms her stance again. The next arrow flies but slightly misses its mark. She sucks her teeth, pulling out a another arrow. "And for once, you may have been right." Her eyes were so focused on the target that she had missed the skeptical look on the older man's face. She had not seen, but he raises a brow.

"What are you talking about?"

"A raven."

"A raven." Heahmund repeats, unimpressed.

"I am told they are a symbol of the god Odin."

"What of it?"

"The day of the battle I was visited by a raven..." She trails off, lowering the bow as she tried to figure out how to continue without sounding like a mad woman. Heahmund crosses his arms, still unimpressed.

"What happened?"

"I saw him." The bishop was quiet for a moment as if in thought, until he shook his head with a chuckle.

"Do you hear yourself?"

"I saw him." She insists, "He changed the outcome of the war."

"You speak blasphemy," He says. He wasn't wrong in saying such things, but it still annoyed her greatly. In response, Artemis prepares her bow and shoots the arrow at him without warning. The arrow struck the tree behind him, and he flinched when he heard it whizz by. If it were any closer, it would have grazed his cheek. He glares at her.

"You irritate me." She says with a shrug.

"You are already losing your way. You do not wear your cross." Her hand shoots up to her collarbone, fingers grazing her skin bare of any significant trinkets relating to her faith. She rolls her eyes in the way she learned so well from Ivar.

"Do you think it wise to give such opinions when the King had elevated you to a commander and an advisor. He could have killed you."

"I did what was necessary to survive."

"And look at you now," She let's out a sarcastic laugh that further infuriated Heahmund, "Alive and well, with much privilege. Do not try to sway my mind again, Heahmund. These decisions are mine to make."

"You act like these warrior women." The bishop shakes his head, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. "Pray for deliverance." He says, brooding in his usual manner as he mockingly bows to her, walking away like a sulking child that didn't get their way.

Artemis huffs, sticking her tongue out at his retreating figure before pulling another arrow and aiming it towards the target.

...

Prayer had often been her source of comfort when she had nothing left to do but recite the Lord's Prayer over and over again in her mind as they taught her in church on Sunday mass.

She'd pray in the darkness when the howling winds of Kattegat would shake the foundations of the Ragnarsson's old cabin. She felt an emptiness that could not be filled, often muttering the familiar words to herself as she lay in her cot.

Usually no answers came, but it still made her feel even the smallest hints of warmth and safety, especially in her darkest times when she felt trapped and alone. So Artemis did exactly what Heahmund had suggested: She prayed.

She prayed with eyes tightly shut and hands clasped together, though she felt she didn't know exactly who she was praying to. Her mind focused on the familiar ways of worship, visualizing the paintings on the walls of the church that displayed the biblical stories one learned as a child.

But her focus wavered and her heart stung and ached. It told her what she had seen the day of the battle was real, and while the stinging and aching pulled her into the direction of something unfamiliar, the bishop tried to keep her grounded.

He had set up a makeshift crucifix made of old twigs, impaling it deep into the earth, located deep in the forest where no one but he and Artemis would know of. She visited the grounds that he consecrated less, and instead, found herself learning and exploring the ways and culture of the northern people, sinking in the knowledge of their beliefs that were as tightly rooted into the earth as an ancient tree.

Artemis knew what she'd seen. How could she deny the man with the bloody eye and his band of ravens? How could she deny the death of Lagertha's men and the death of Lagertha herself?

Sometimes she would envision the face of the dead queen, blue skin and empty eyes. At times it would keep her up into the late hours of night, when Ivar was fast asleep in a dream state. She wouldn't have done it, she wouldn't have had the courage, nor the strength to even think about ending a life, but it had come to her so easily in those moments, that it had to be divine intervention.

Weeks earlier Hvitserk had returned to her the golden cross and the silver hammer. They were placed neatly atop her wooden chest of clothes, shining like holy relics in the flickering candlelight.

Ivar would step into their shared chambers at night, finding Geirdis has long been dismissed. Artemis would sit at his desk, rubbing her thumb over the pendant of Mjölnir in an almost trance like state, while the golden cross lay abandon atop the old wood he had stabbed and carved with a knife one too many times in his youth.

"You ought to go visit the seer," He finally says to her one night, comfortably tucked in bed, "He may help you."

"Is he the man that reveals prophecies and futures?"

"Mhm."

"No." Artemis mutters into his side, her eyes fluttering close in her weariness.

"And why is that?" Ivar questions, placing a toned arm behind his head and settling into the furs, "Our marriage is in a week. I do not want you to run away because you are unsure of what you want."

She ponders his words for a moment. She'd never put into account that Ivar was worried as well. She had been so preoccupied in her own troubles of faith that she hadn't thought perhaps he was worried she'd leave him. When it was obvious she was distracted, Ivar brings his other hand to gently play with her hair, enjoying the little sighs that escaped her. After a few minutes, he brings a finger to playfully tap her temple.

"Your mind will be the death of you, baby bird."

"I'm not running away," She says suddenly, shifting her body to look at him. He had this look of uncertainty she'd never seen before.

"Go to the seer," He insists, "It may ease your mind, and mine." He mutters the last part.

"Very well." She huffs, placing the pendant in her hand beneath the mounds of pillows for another night of safe keeping.

"Good." Ivar murmurs tiredly. He gently pecks her cheek with drooping eyes, turning to blow out the flame of the candle beside him.

...

She stares at the hut before her, repulsed by its appearance. It was dirty, even from the outside. The wood was rotting away and the plants that weaved themselves between the planks of rotting wood were withering and dying.

It was not an inviting sight.

Heracles sniffed about her feet, curious of the smells surrounding them.

"I fear I will not like what he has to say." She says to herself, her beast staring up at her. Shen sighs in defeat, dropping her head with eyes closed.

The seer was well known around Kattegat, a most revered man, yet the most feared. He had a power beyond human understanding, blessed and cursed by his gods to a life servitude.

Artemis has heard of his kind before. In ancient Greece they were known as oracles, priestesses of Apollo with the divine power of prophecy and interpreting the future. Of course, in the Christian world, it was viewed as the devil's work, but pushing those thoughts aside, she takes a deep breath, wiping her clammy hands down her skirts.

"You stay here." She looks down at her large pup. He tilts his head, blinking at her. Leaving him with a pat, she enters into what she felt was like decending into hell.

She was met with a dark ambiance, the type of place any Christian would identify as a witches lair or perhaps the home of the devil himself. Seashells and dried herbs hung from the low ceiling and the smell of smoke and other things she could not identify invaded her nose. Candles were lit just enough to see the steps one took, and just enough for her to want to turn back. Before she could make that decision, a voice calls out to her.

"Why does the foreigner visit me?"

Artemis stops in her tracks. It was her first time she had heard his voice. It reminded her a bit of Heahmund, scratchy and breathy, almost painful for him to speak.

"Well?" The seer awaits her answer.

She slowly turns back, searching for the source of the voice. She finds him laying upon a bed of furs, his hands interlaced over his cloaked covered body.

She'd never forget such a face, void of emotion, sickly looking, with severe scars for eyes and soot colored lips. He was malformed, creature like, with spindly fingers and skin resembling the melting wax of the candles that surrounded him.

"I was told you have answers." Her voice sounded so small compared to his, eaten up by the small fire blazing under a cauldron bubbling with something that contributed to the unpleasant smell.

"I only see what the gods allow me to see, child." The seer moves, sitting up slowly. He extends a hand out with his palm open.

Artemis grimaces. This was the part she had not been looking forward to. Stepping over the scattered furs on the floor, she grasps his hand. She hesitated, lips hovering over the waxy skin before tentatively poking her tongue out to lick a stripe across his palm.

The seer takes his hand back, grunting in approval before speaking.

"What does the future queen wish to know?" She didn't know how to respond. It was strange to hear the title from someone else besides Ivar. She steps back slowly, plopping down upon the old fur rugs before answering.

"I wish to know of your gods," She starts hesitantly, "I was raised as a Christian-"

"I know of your twisting faith, child."

"-But I have seen your god." She continues.

"The All Father reveals himself to whom he wishes." Artemis frowns.

"But why?"

"It is not our right to question the will of the gods." Was all the seer said.

"I questioned everything since arriving to Kattegat," Artemis says, placing her hands on her knees and squeezing them in frustration, "What have I to do with them?"

"The gods work in mysterious ways, is that not what you Chrisitans believe about your God?"

"Yes, but-"

"The same principle applies here. The only problem is that you are afraid to accept what is real and what is not." She turns away from the ancient man, letting out an shuddering breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.

"But why me? I was just a slave-"

"You have the ability to see, yet you are blinded." He rasps out.

"Well then, what is it that you can tell me?" She bites out. The seer grunts out a bitter laugh at her impatience, his own wearing thin.

"A shadow looms over you, whether good or bad, I cannot see," Artemis swallows roughly, a lump lodging itself into the center of her throat. The seer let's out a tired and sickly breath before continuing.

"A child shall be born, the eye of the raven. Winter draws near and so will the enemy, lurking like a pack of wolves in the dark night. They wait for Sòl to set,"

The birth of a child? But Ivar is incapable-

Artemis remains quiet, interrupting her own thoughts. Her brows furrow and the deformed man immediately chuckles, as if reacting to her confusion.

"You will find hardship beside the crippled king, foreigner. Being his queen will not be easy."

"Then who am I to be his queen?" She responds quietly, her eyes reflecting the colors of the fire as she stares intensely into its flames.

"It has already been written," The seer replies, laying back down upon his scattered rugs, "The king has been touched by the gods despite what anyone thinks, and they have chosen you to be his partner. None of this is by chance. You have given him a heart, and for that, the All Father has given you his favor. Trust in the gods, and they will have trust in you."

"But what must I do?"

"Honor the gods, invoke the All Father, and you shall be blessed. Now, go and face your fate," The seer says to her, "Leave me to rest,"

Artemis's legs shook as she stood, glancing at the seer who heaved and coughed, his breathing hard and harsh. She gives him a nod of respect, knowing that despite his lack of vision, he would know.

"Foreigner," He rasps out to her before she could make it to the splintering door. She looks back at him, her eyes lingering on the black hood that hung over his deformed face. The corner of his dark lips lift up ever so slightly into an almost taunting smile before speaking.

"Lagertha may be dead, but her spirit lives on."

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @ostra814 @leilabeaux @zumzum96​ @rastakami23

[ao3feed-merlinarthur]

by LifeIsWay2short2takeItSlow

Welcome to the Amazing Race Switch! With roadblocks and decisions galore, no one will remain the way they came...

The pairings above will be the end goal; stay tuned.

Words: 3114, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Multi-Fandom, The Amazing Race RPF

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M, F/F

Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark, Helga Pataki/Arnold Shortman, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Joaquin DeSantos/Kevin Keller, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dib/Zim (Invader Zim), Barry Allen/Cisco Ramon, Henry Morgan/Lucas Wahl, Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Xander Harris/Spike, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Boots/Swiper, Alvin Seville/Simon Seville, Ryland Adams/Shane Dawson, Caillou (Caillou)/Little Bill (Little Bill), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Funshine Bear/Grumpy Bear (Care Bears), Mitchell Pritchett/Cameron Tucker, Menlo/Randall Weems, Ryan Atwood/Seth Cohen, Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Bugs Bunny/Daffy Duck, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer, Kim Possible/Shego, Chad Danforth/Ryan Evans, Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner), Oswald Cobblepot/Victor Zsasz, Andy Davis/Sid Phillips, Seeley Booth/Temperance Brennan, Alexis Castle/Emily Lightman, Edd "Double D"/Kevin, Jumba Jookiba/Wendy Pleakley, Peter Niedermayer/Gregory Valentine, Robbie Rotten/Sportacus, Susie Carmichael/Angelica Pickles, Kimball Cho/Patrick Jane, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Ace Copular/Snake, Luna Loud/Sam Sharp, L/Yagami Light, Bert/Ernie (Sesame Street), Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Ezra Fitz/Aria Montgomery, Becky Botsford | WordGirl/Theodore "Tobey" McCallister III, Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Tori Vega/Jade West, Pitch Pearl - Relationship, Gil/Harry Hook

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Teacher Dr. Doofenshmirtz, Teacher Ezra Fitz, Summer Vacation