#hero for the bride

[oliviasbookshelf]

Hero for the Bride ch 1: The Merchant's Daughter

It was just a simple brown paper package, the creases well worn from months of traveling. Hazel stared at it as if she might be sick on contact.

“You’ve been carrying it around since Appilacia,” her father’s young apprentice frowned. “You can at least leave it at her doorstep.”

“But what if she does remember me, what if she’s expecting me.”

“Then deliver it to her, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Terrible awkwardness, Jac!” Hazel grabbed the package in frustration. “Awkwardness like you’ve never seen in your whole sixteen short and blissful years!” She shoved it in her bag and stomped out of their room before he could respond.

The Western Point Hotel was one of the nicer places they’d stayed, with walls of cool white stone and smooth clean floors. The light from the windows shown freely down each hall. It was a leg up from the usual inn, though it’s tidiness leaned daringly close to stuffiness. Her father could only afford one room for the three of them and the two beds were the “newest innovation” in comfort, which apparently translated to “hard as rocks.”

It was in a safe neighborhood, though, just across the square from the university. For the past few years, her father had insisted that they stay at The Western Point every time they visited Bridgaea, despite its price and distance from the market. Hazel suspected he was either trying to pique her interest in the university or its students. At 23, maybe it was time they both gave up on her being anything more than a merchant’s daughter.

She made a note to be kinder to Jac if her future depended on his charity and hurried past the stone arches of the university. Dogwoods lined the street, their branches shaking off the last of winter’s ice to proudly display the first blooms of spring. Young men and women stood in huddles against the cold, their laughter forming ghosts within their circle. Hazel pulled her heavy woolen clock tighter.

The manor was a bit of a distance, the aristocracy keeping a distance from the youthful scholars, most of which were their own children trying to get some distance from home. Slipping around to the servant’s entrance, Hazel tried to gather her nerve. The package weighed heavily in her bag.

Her mind took her back to last year, when this same heavy wooden door with its wrought iron knocker was the source of giddy joy. Hazel had spent almost every day of their visit coming to this door, stomach full of butterflies. Something about it felt cold now, cruel and mocking.

“So soft, locks of fire, Angharad has blessed us with her presence on this joyous Braelic! Goddess fair, are you lost?”

Hazel about jumped out of her skin as a young man stepped up behind her. She rolled the irritation from her shoulders. Just because Braelic was a festival of poetry, every fellow seemed obligated to communicate in verse. “Hello, I’m looking for Miss Lili Poovey? She was a maid here last year.”

The man nodded knowingly, his dark eyes shining with mischief. “Missus Lili Urian, now. She’s out on maternity leave, bound to deliver any day now.”

“She managed to marry and get pregnant in the past year,” Hazel felt the blood drain from her face as she struggled to hold her smile. “How wonderful for her. I’ll be on my way.”

“Her cottage is by the Viridian Well if you’d like to visit!” The man called after her, but Hazel was already halfway down the lane.

It had been what, six? Seven? Hazel didn’t want to calculate how many years of rejection this made now. They weren’t even real rejections. Rejections required the person to remember her. She had a beautiful romance with Lili, complete with rowboats on the lake, poetry, flowers, and breathless nights. She’d left with the promise to return the next year and she had, with gifts. Apparently it had taken Lili mere weeks to move on and forget her.

Before her had been Cled Beynon from Brynth, and Lyn Pierce from Byliad before that. Tristan Isaac, Alis Brickwell: Hazel remembered all of her broken hearts, even if they never thought of her as more than a passing fling. She was just the daughter of a merchant passing through, a daydream to them.

She managed to keep herself together long enough to trek back to the university. The students were out for the holiday, dallying on the lawn instead of in the stone corridors. She took advantage of the quiet halls to find a place to mourn. She didn’t need a keening wail, just a quiet sob away from prying eyes.

Wooden benches lined wooden tables in the first unlocked classroom she found. The room was cold, the fireplace unlit. It was the perfect place to pity herself, so she wasted no time. Tears already tracked her cheeks as sobs distorted her face. She slipped onto a bench, burying her head in her arms on the desk, ignoring the splinters catching on her sleeves.

She let herself cry until she tired of the emotion. The world outside the classroom window was blinding sun on melting snow; she knew her spring would come again just as surely as the flowers fought through the frost. Lili wasn’t the one, this wasn’t the end. It still hurt.

The clatter and slam of the classroom door shook her to her feet. She could only hope she looked enough like a student to justify her presence.

Except the man who entered looked nothing like a student. Back pressed against the door, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Hazel like a frightened rabbit. For a man of his height and build, it was a wonder that anything frightened him.

“Sorry, I was just—” she motioned to the empty desk lamely. She had no clue what she was doing.

“Sorry for intruding,” he took a deep breath and flipped the lock. “Do you mind if I join you? In seeking solitude, that is.”

She tried not to be alarmed by the locked door, remembering the knife strapped to her calf. The man was broad, but she could be quick. His relaxed stance as he approached a neighboring desk put her at ease. “Is it solitude if there’s two of us?”

“’The most restful solitude, is solitude shared,’ Eurwen Beddow,” he stated before extending a hand, “I’m Steffan Kinnedy .”

“Hazel Rees,” she obliged.

His hand enveloped hers almost completely, his grip gentle as he planted a kiss on her knuckles. “Any relation to the poet Aeronwen Rhees?”

“I highly doubt it. It’s a common name.”

Steffan nodded thoughtfully. They sat in companionable silence for many long minutes. Steffan looked out the window, likely seeing the same signs of spring that Hazel had seen earlier. Hazel studied the man curiously, heart getting ready for another heartbreak. Fine blond hair would have fallen to his shoulders if half of it hadn’t been tamed back with a bit of leather. His clothes were a fine muslin, well fitted to his muscular frame.

She jumped when he jumped, turning in his chair to track footsteps outside.

“Hiding from someone?”

He laughed, relaxing back onto the bench. “My little sister. We’re visiting for the festival and she’s been hounding me the whole time.”

“That’s sweet. Is she a fan of poetry then?”

“Not in the least,” he grinned, locking gazes with Hazel, “she abhors all extravagance. She believes that I should take advantage of the festival to meet a girl and propose so that we can get married on Haradsday.”

“Wow, she’s got it all planned out for you.”

Steffan shrugged “she says that’s the duty of little sisters.”

Hazel felt her chest give an uncertain beat. “And you don’t want to marry?”

“Oh, no, I want to marry! It’s just— it’s complicated,” the poor man looked defeated, smiling sheepishly.

Hazel nodded knowingly, completely lost on what could be so complicated but not wanting to look clueless. “And your sister is prowling the university for the kingdom’s brightest minds? She wouldn’t want you marrying a frivolous pastry chef with extravagant cakes, would she?”

“No, she—“

“Then I know the perfect hiding place.”

Dolling him up in her cloak barely worked. The hem hung far above the floor and the front didn’t reach across his chest, but the hood hid his flaxen hair. He traded her his waistcoat to ward off the cold. “If we’re caught, just pretend we’re courting. That might stave her off.”

Hazel tried to keep the giddy smile from her face as they walked the university grounds arm in arm. Maybe she should thank Lili for breaking her heart, this new feeling warming her from the inside out was promising.

The patisserie was bustling with festival goers. She found them a small table in the back while Steffan ordered honey cakes for them both. He returned with a platter overflowing with cakes and rolls.

“I got excited.” His smile might’ve been the sweetest thing in the shop.

Hazel tore into a poppy seed roll with enthusiasm, spreading it generously with butter. After a moment of studying her, he did the same, letting cream bead down his wrist as the bun leaked. Hazel tried not to notice it, tried not to think about how it would taste on his skin. She might have made a show of sucking the honey from her fingers. She knew Steffan had noticed it from the flush of his face.

He cleared his throat to clear his thoughts. “Are you from Bridgaea originally?”

“No, my father’s a traveling merchant. We’re here for the festival— we follow the festival route.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m not sure what you mean,” he dabbed his wrists with a napkin.

Hazel swiped the last bun from the platter and drew a circle in the remaining honey. “You know how each major city in Ubrait has its own major holiday? If you visit each city on its day, you end up making a big loop around the country. That way you can be sure you’re always selling at the busiest market.”

Steffan nodded in understanding, “then where are you from, where’s home?”

“My bedroll, I guess,” she shrugged, wanting to get away from the topic before the man’s eyes got any more pitying “You?”

“Byliad, born and raised.”

“Do you frequent Braelic?”

He shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t travel much. My little sister is about to marry and insisted that we come before she leaves for her future husband’s.”

“That’s sweet, though. She wanted to find you a wife before she left!”

“Looks like that was her motive all along, yes,” he grinned, leaning in over the table. “She can be a brat, but she’s a good sister. Do you have siblings to torment you?”

Hazel barked an embarrassingly loud laugh, slapping her palm across her mouth with a blush. Steffan just grinned. “The closest I’ve ever had to a sibling is my father’s apprentice. He’s seven years my junior, he’s been with us for about ten years, and sometimes I swear he’s only learning how to be as insufferable as possible while still being endearing.”

“A fine skill in a lost art,” he agreed solemnly.

“Sounds like one you’re familiar with.”

“Oh, I fall miserably short in comparison with my siblings. Unfortunately I’m only ever perfectly endearing.”

With the way Steffan’s perfectly silky hair fell against the strong column of his neck, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the dimples in his cheeks, the twinkle in his eye... Hazel tried to imagine what his family must look like, the kind of love and joy they must share. A twinge of envy turned her gut.

“If you’re just a visiting merchant’s daughter, how did you find yourself at the university?” he interrupted her thoughts by placing his hand on top hers on the table.

She lifted his knuckles to her lips with a coy smile, “same as you; it’s a young heart’s playground.”

“And what of young hearts that find one another? What do they do in Bridgaea?”

Hazel’s grin could be described as downright wicked as she leapt from her seat, pulling Steffan with her in a whirlwind of limbs and skirts. He followed her with blind trust and earnest excitement.

Warm, broad hand in hers, Hazel marveled at her change in luck. She had never laughed this much with Lili.

Lili... she’d been a fool for Lili. They’d spent a month stealing moments, lingering in the market or sneaking around her master’s estate. Quiet, reserved, modest Lili had occupied Hazel’s mind for the past year, and for what? A quiet fizzling heartbreak.

But if Lili hadn’t left her behind, Hazel wouldn’t be running hand-in-hand with the vibrant, charming Steffan who looked at her with wonder and mischief. In retrospect, maybe Lili hadn’t been interested at all. Maybe she was just happy that someone had paid attention to her; it was obvious that it hadn’t mattered if that someone was Hazel or not.

The din of a crowd in their path brought the pair to a halt. Steffan pulled Hazel to his chest protectively as he surveyed the gathering. His fingers threaded through her auburn curls, cradling her head against the linen of his shirt. Turning, he guided them calmly down an alleyway.

“What is it?” She whispered, letting herself cling to him a little longer.

He obliged by lightly combing through her hair, “it’s nothing. I’m just... not used to crowds.”

“Then come on, we can sneak around. We’re going behind the church anyway.”

He followed obediently as she darted through gaps in the brick walls along the ally and onto the church grounds. They stumbled through an area of the churchyard that had gone long forgotten. The massive institution faced away from them as they slipped through overgrown thicket and around broken liquor bottles. In the corner of the border wall stood a decaying building.

“When I was a kid this was my secret spot,” she explained, jimmying open the door which only hung on by one hinge, “it wasn’t until I was older that I realized every university student knew the place, they just didn’t visit in the daylight hours.”

“And it was safe for a young girl to tiptoe around broken glass alone in such a big city?” He seemed genuinely concerned.

Leading him by the hand, she shrugged, “nothing is safe for a young girl. Living safely doesn’t count as living.”

Glass crunched under their feet as the interior of the building revealed itself. Narrow and long, the single room ended in an altar and fresco painting of a young woman, red curls tangled over her shoulder and falling modestly across her naked body. Other figures were painted nearby, smaller and less intricate. Light cutting through a broken window illuminated the woman’s adoring gaze. The rest of the room was an exhibition on the disgusting things young men do when inebriated and arrogant, but the woman went untouched, respected, with a variety of questionable offerings on her altar.

Steffan’s eyes stayed locked on the painting’s, but he pulled Hazel close with a gentle arm, “thank you for sharing this with me.”

“It’s a shame the building is crumbling, but she always felt like a spot of peace in the city. She feels like an aunt or someone looking out for me.” Hazel gingerly swept debris from the only sturdy bench before taking a seat. Steffan didn’t hesitate to sit next to her, letting the length of his leg rest flush with her skirts.

“So your second step after meeting someone is to introduce them to your aunt? That’s... endearingly innocent.”

She shouldered him playfully with a laugh, “I had actually intended on luring you here and ravishing you, but there’s much too much glass on the floor. And with Aunt Cheryl watching, the mood is gone.”

He studied her for a long moment. “You really don’t know who that is?”

“Honestly? My father always tried to keep a distance between us and the church. I know the holidays from a merchant perspective, but...” Hazel shrugged, “knowing deities and heroes has never been important when selling a knife. Is it something you’re passionate about then?”

Steffan’s gaze darted between her and the painting. “That’s Angharad, the daughter of Astella also called Drywsone, wife of Brenn.”

“None of those names hold meaning for me,” she grimaced, “sorry.”

She had expected him to get impatient with her. Most folks did when they found her ’uncultured.’ Instead, Steffan seemed to glow with excitement. She couldn’t help but find it contagious, endearing.

“You know the four major cities with the four major holidays?” He waited for her to nod before continuing. “Each of those holidays originated in a blessing from The Powers That Be. In Astrea they host Haradsday in honor of Angharad,” he again motioned to the painting, “she’s the daughter of the goddess of life and the god of death, making her the minor goddess of love and war. She was gifted to the mortal hero Brenn when he became the first king of Ubrait.”

“Gifted?” Hazel deadpanned.

“I... promise it’s more romantic than that,” he stood, gesturing passionately to the other figures painted on the walls. “Brenn and Angharad were wildly in love, which is how he became a hero to begin with. He won her favor at war and they founded the country on love. But Astella... she’s flux, she can’t have children. Angharad was a miracle; Astella was hesitant to lose her to the mortal world, but she couldn’t deny their love.”

“So Haradsday, which is a celebration of sex and fertility...”

Steffan turned a vibrant red, “is because Angharad and Brenn made very many babies, yes.”

“So this is a local fertility chapel.”

“And love and war. Angharad is probably the most bullheaded of all female deities. It would be a shame to belittle her to just a broodmare.”

“I guess that explains why some of the candles have blood on them,” Hazel grimaced.

“Petitioners typically anoint candles when they need a deity’s help,” Steffan shrugged, “for Angharad it’s common to use menstrual blood, or spilt seed, or something similar to petition for love or fertility. Then again, the blood could have been spilt in a petition to curse an enemy.”

Hazel tried to hide a smirk. A goddess with a love of sex and revenge sounded perfect. No wonder her father tried to avoid Haradsday. “It’s a shame that her chapel is neglected.”

He nodded, taking stock of the state of the place. “The city of Bridgaea is dedicated to Bridga, the goddess of education and wisdom. I don’t think the university students are trying to have their studies interrupted by romances, feuds, and pregnancies.”

“Let’s fix it up, then. We won’t be leaving town for another three weeks, not until after the major Braelic festivities are done. You’re not leaving before the holiday are you?”

Wordlessly, he stepped forward and pulled her from her seat. “I would adore nothing more than restoring this chapel with you.” A chaste kiss on her forehead and he stepped back again, appraising her fondly. “I’ll ask the family we’re staying with for any spare brooms, mops, buckets and rags. Maybe they’ll know of a fast working craftsman who can repair the windows and door.”

They spent the afternoon taking stock of what needed done and prioritizing the list. New benches were wanted, but solid windows and restoring the fresco were needed. The ringing bells marked the end of church services, making them aware of the waning sunlight rapidly disappearing from the broken windows.

“Can I escort you back to your hotel?”

“I would love that,” Hazel grinned, brushing the dirt from her hands on her skirts. The dust smeared across Steffan’s cheeks made the blue of his eyes all the more striking in the dim light as he offered her his arm.

The city streets were quiet, students and festival attendees having gone in for the night. Gas lamps lit the main street with a soft yellow glow.

“I’m staying at Western Point. I hope that’s not too far for you to walk back,” Hazel worried. There wasn’t a lot of crime in Bridgaea and Steffan was intimidating enough to dissuade most would-be assailants, but the thought of him walking alone filled her with dread.

“No worries,” he turned down the road to the hotel, “I’ll enjoy the walk. I’m sure an earful will be waiting for me when I return to my sister; the quiet will be a boon.”

Leaning her head against his shoulder, Hazel hummed in agreement. “It must be nice to have a family who worries. Jac will just tease me relentlessly.”

“I’m sure they worry when you’re out of sight and the teasing is out of relief. My younger brother and I are much the same way. He’s away on an apprenticeship right now and I’m sure to get an ulcer from his exploits, but as soon as he returns home I will be insufferable.”

They turned the corner into University Square with tired smiles, Hazel’s hotel looming just across the brick road. “There she is, the Western Point.”

“Looks like someone’s worrying for you,” Steffan nodded to an upstairs window. Sure enough, Jac sat dutifully with a candle illuminating his tanned face and wild hair. “I’ll meet you at the chapel tomorrow afternoon.”

With an affirmative hum, Hazel let him nudge her towards the door. Her mind worked overtime trying to think of a way to explain the day to Jac. He’d seen Steffan. In retrospect, he might be the first paramour any of her family had seen. That was only a step away from meeting them, which was a few paces short of marriage and pretty soon she’d have a full blown panic attack.

The door to their room was unlocked and she was immediately met by her father’s snores and Jac’s candlelight.

“The bath is still hot,” the teenage apprentice handed her the candle as she shut the door. “And we saved you some bread and cheese.”

“You are the absolute best,” she accepted the light, making her way to the dressing room to bathe. By the time she returned, Jac was already curled up on his side of their bed, feigning sleep. Hazel made a note to be more thankful for him in the future.

[herbarimoon]

Day19 - haunted

[vriskan8or]

let her go

[thes-hitoverlord]

art by STUPIDDEAD SKULLHEAD

[eldritch-bf]

I had an epiphany.

[darkcrowprincess]

Literally Bakugo Katsuki:

Kacchan *I had a fist fight with death and won just to be by your side* Bakugo

[ibrithir-was-here]

Certain comments on the previous self indulgent Harkers 2.0 x Castlevania AU picture inspired this contuation.

Lu's incarceration in Castle Dracula just went from bad to worst as she realizes just what kind of Dracula Adaption she's in and she wants absolutely none of it

(Cuz, unfortunately, yeah, I think Castlevania Dracula would definitely succumb to the Reincarnated Wife Virus. This particular unfortunate Harker heroine, however, is happily married and 100% trying to lizard style her way out of the castle. If only it would stop freaking teleporting...)

[wizling]

can we have one good awakening alt before EOS please. just a crumb of recognition for my bisexual angel and her butch wife. just one tiny reference to the canonical girlprince homoeroticism sumia got to enjoy during the harvest scramble

Sumia: I know it's silly...but this whole thing is just SO alluring! I mean, men have their own unique appeal, and women do too, right? But combine them both, and you get the best of both worlds! The beauty of the female form, with the magnetic appeal of a handsome man... If we can pull this off, you'll be like a dashing prince from a fairy tale!

(FEH summon simulator here)

[swinging-through-the-stars]

Same time next week?

[fbfh]

hmm more leo valdez x reader as parents..

You both knew being parents would have ups and downs, but to your surprise there really weren't that many low points. Your daughter, Sophia, is two, and your well into your second trimester with her soon to be baby brother. Leo thinks the problem started at the park, but you're sure it must have been the playdate with the kid who picks his nose. Either way, your little angel now has a terrible cold.

"Seriously, Annabeth," you sigh into the phone, "poor thing's sick as a dog."

Phia is laying on your lap in her favorite jammies while you rub her back. She can feel the soothing warmth of your hand through the fleecy fabric with little sheep printed on it, and she sighs, coughing a little. Your phone buzzes with an incoming call from Leo, so you say goodbye to Annabeth and hang up, taking your husband's call.

"How's she doing?"

Your heart swells. Despite all the stuff going on in your personal and professional lives, the first thing he asks is if your baby girl is okay. You consider for a moment, looking down at her.

"She's okay," you say, "as much as anyone would be."

"Good." He nods, relieved that she isn't feeling worse than she had been when he left to go to the store. "I'm getting the popsicles now, what flavor did she want?"

You smooth down the flyaways in her hair that looks so much like Leo's, getting her attention.

"Daddy's at the store, bubs. What popsicles do you want?" You ask softly. She sneezes and sniffles before answering.

"Summer-sicles..."

You smile sweetly, turning back to your phone.

"The red white and blue bottle pops." You say. She first tried them on a visit to Camp Half Blood, and they quickly became her favorite. She ate them all summer, hence the nickname summer-sicles.

"Got it." Leo states, and you know he does. "I'll be home in 10. I love you both so much, give her an extra snuggle for me till I get back."

She climbs up into your lap a little more, groaning and rubbing her nose. You place the back of your hand on her forehead, thankful that her fever isn't any worse. The front door opens, and before you can wonder if Leo somehow made it back in a fraction of the time he predicted, you hear a familiar voice.

"Mija!"

Thank the gods. Esperanza is here. You scoop up your daughter and walk to the door to greet her.

"Oh honey..." she coos as her grandbaby reaches out for her.

"Hi 'buela," she sniffles. Esperanza scoops her up and brings her back to the little nest of plushies and blankets you'd made on the couch.

"Ay, mi vida... Mírate, pobre bebe," Esperanza fusses over her, laying her down on the couch. She takes one look at you and can tell how tired and worried you and Leo have been. She reaches out, caressing your cheek.

"You go take a break, mija. I brought everything we need to get our little girl up and running again."

To your surprise, she's actually able to make Sophia giggle. You think it's the first time she's properly laughed since she came down with this bug, and your relief is palpable. Esperanza stands back up, digging through the bags she brought. She pulls out a few containers of food, a tub of vaporub, and a bottle of sprite.

She scrunches up the ankles of Sophia's pajamas and rubs some vaporub onto the bottom of her feet, then grabs a pair of her socks from a laundry basket you forgot to take upstairs. You give her a hug from behind, appreciating everything she does for you, for Sophia and Leo, for bringing Leo into the world in the first place. You thank her, then take the tupperwares of food into the kitchen to start heating up. Soon the kitchen will be filled with the smell of Esperanza's soup, Leo will be home with the popsicles, and after a solid nap you know your girl will be right as rain.

[oliviasbookshelf]

I’m getting money for my writing!

It’s only $4, but it’s money! For writing! Because people read my writing and they liked it!!

[cipheringcats]

togachako x the corpse bride 🩻🩻

[faeriegirl]

❤️The Devil and His Bride❤️

[incorrect-riordanverse-quotes]

Annabeth: I heard you were dead. Magnus: Only mostly dead.

[katiefromcabin7]

HOW HAS NO ONE MADE A PRINCESSES BRIDE PERCABETH AU!!!!

Hear me out:

Percy being Westley the Farm Boy before going off to get money for marriage and then becoming the Dread Pirate Robert’s (slayer of the seas). You can’t tell me that boy wouldn’t say “As you wish” and do everything in his power to get back to her.

Annabeth obviously being Buttercup. (A more badass version)

Frank could make a good Fezzik, because he’s kind and on the quieter side. Also having Vizzini assume strength is his only asset because of his size and Frank would never be unsportsmanlike in a duel.

Octavian being Vizzini, thinking he’s the smartest in every room and his own ignorance leading to his death.

I feel like Nico would make a good Inigo Montoya. Like “My name is Nico DiAngelo, you killed my sister. Prepare to die.”

Leo would def be the guy that made the life draining machine lol

Anyways my obsession with The Princess Bride is back and it’s crossing over with PJO in my brain lol

[kingsandbastardz]

Tumblr ate the anon ask I was responding to so I'm gonna paraphrase it here:

what do mean llh gave di feisheng to fang duobing? the letter totally said something else

Yes, it did - but I didn't feel I could comment too deeply on it when it's been retranslated and people who are far more literate than I am have analyzed the contents already. -- The letter itself seems pretty straight forward.

However, what I wanted to focus on was analyzing unspoken social dynamics - so I'm gonna get in depth into my reasoning for my interpretation. And admittedly in previous posts I was playing fast and glib with my responses (they were just insomnia-fueled thoughts I typed real fast) so I wasn't really in depth or anything. Anyway~~~ That means it's time for me to get long winded.

So! First thing - this is the scene: The letter was written from Li Xiangyi and addressed in its entirety to Di Feisheng. However, when it was delivered the fisherman asked for both DFS and FDB. It was then read outloud by either the fisherman or FDB -- I assume read out loud, and loudly, because DFS never left his position by the rocks and emoted his distress at the contents. That means everyone there also was privy to the letter contents.

The letter itself is straight forward. It's addressed from LXY telling DFS that he regretfully can't make the duel and that he respects him both as a martial artist and as a person, and if he wishes, he can go to FDB who has inherited his skills and shows great promise, etc.

The thing IS - I firmly believe that this is not a message meant just for DFS.

Both LLH and DFS code switch between their non-leader selves vs Li-Menzhu and Di-Mengzhu. It's easiest to see based on what they're wearing. Li Xiangyi when he's dressed in the Sigu Sect uniform. Or the Styx flower hand-off scene where he calls him Di-mengzhu (not Lao Di or A-Fei or whatever else) likely as a reaction to his official regalia/red uniform which means DFS was showing up in an official capacity. Both of them know very well the importance of a certain.... how to say.... drama? They're both leaders and they were also very performative in their roles as leaders. They both expected that massive peanut gallery that showed up to witness the fight - the one filled with members of various sects, including Sigu Sect leadership -- because dfs was likely the one announcing it.

Imo - aside from the need to express the full weight of what he felt, part of the reason LLH was so formal in his letter is expectation that there would be other people there - influential people. The very people DFS and FDB would have to deal with in the future alone. FDB would be ok but he's largely unknown to the rest of jianghu and therefore his story is still malleable. DFS is known, but infamous and his narrative is as much of a trap as LXY's was. And now he no longer has the benefit of a sect to act as a buffer.

LLH's last act as LXY was not to save Yun Biqiu but to carve a new path open in the world for DFS and FDB:

Expresses that he bears deep emotion and the greatest and deepest respect for DFS despite a reputation of them being enemies

Informs everyone that DFS is not seeking dominion or 'the throne' but rather, is going the fighter-scholar path of studying and testing martial skill -- aka, this is message from one sect leader to all the others present. Spread the word, this man is NOT gunning for your power. None of you have reason to take him down.

Establishes FDB as his one and only successor - while also stating clearly it's entirely up to FDB to decide whether to continue down this path or not

Creates a pathway for DFS and FDB to maintain their connection with each other - and in fact lets everyone else know that there is a pre-established, legacy relationship between DFS and LLH that FDB will be inheriting.

Gently asks DFS to keep an eye on FDB's development - iterating that if dfs is the one asking, then FDB may make the decision to continue to train - aka help him see his full potential whatever his decision is.

At the same time, he silently wishes FDB to maintain connections with/keep an eye on DFS. In another reply I kinda went on about this: imagine a scenario where your friend's mom pulls both of you in front of her. And the whole time is telling your friend that they need to do, expectations, a list of goals, etc. The entire time she's only focused on your friend - but there is this silent implication that you, as the witness, is expected to act a reminder or even an enforcer if your friend isn't listening. If things go wrong, you're expected to go in there and help them to do the thing they were asked to do. This is the unspoken message I'm getting for FDB. Even though his name wasn't mentioned in the letter, it was explicitly delivered to both him and dfs. He's standing right there while an imaginary LLH talks to DFS. So if after all this, dfs disappears without another word = fdb can feel emboldened to go after him, knocking on doors until he answers. Should he decide to do so.

Entreaty - "These are LXY's (my) last wishes. Please respect my memory after my death."

Conclusion: LLH's last actions were to create a space where both DFS and FDB can make their own decision on their path in the world, without the weight of all those other people in jianghu influencing them.

Note: I also believe that on dfs' side, his clothing choices point toward his plans to publicly step down and leave the martial path with Li Lianhua. But llh sucker-punched him and left him standing on some rocks like a widow waiting for her husband who's lost at sea. They were technically on the same page, but it somehow went wrong because... well. Unfortunately that's DFS' narrative. He never quite reaches his goal without the hero either hindering or helping him. The entire drama was LLH being that karma busting fulcrum for him. But now, should he wish it, it'll be FDB's turn to step up and do the same.