#if I had enough strength I would illustrate the whole song

[levshany]

“Смерть луны”/”Moon death”

translation of the illustrated fragment:

“I paint on canvas how the moon dies on the guillotine and how the sun screams under the shelling of cannons”

[mareenavee]

WIP Whatever ~

Hi, all. Sorry I'm late. I finished a piece yesterday so I was scramblin' a bit and didn't have my braincells in one place for enough WIP to share (that I haven't already or that which does not contain spoilers lol)

Tagged by the fantastic @thequeenofthewinter, @kookaburra1701, @throughtrialbyfire, and @ladytanithia!

Tagging the amazing: @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @polypolymorph, @elfinismsarts, @gilgamish, @snippetsrus, @archangelsunited, @thana-topsy, @dirty-bosmer, @wildhexe, @oblivions-dawn, @saltymaplesyrup and of course YOU, yes you. You who haven't posted a WIP in a while. You're tagged! Yeet one on here and tag me, too!

This is part of a challenge I'm doing this month. The prompt is 'Summoning' and @snippetsrus has encouraged and inspired me to try the isekai genre. (: I'm also severely, severely inspired in all things, but not least about how to handle Isekai, by @paraparadigm's OC, Vera. <3 Ya'll and your uncanny ability to have me reaching way off my path here for stories. I love it. I appreciate it. A prompt challenge is a perfect time to try this. This is inspired by a PVRIS song called Separate, and in fact the title is a whole line from that song. Super, super fresh from the braincells but SO MUCH FUN. Under the cut!

WIP: As Long as It Won’t Separate You From Me, I’ll Be Fine A hedge witch from (a version of) Earth conducts a ritual to recover a spirit from beyond the veil. In her reaching, Aubrey is taken by something other, pulled through the veil, and finds herself freezing to death in a different world entirely. This story begins when she feels her theory and research will finally send her home.

The Hall of Attainment had been Aubrey’s home now for almost a year. It was where she was found, and, she supposed, where she would leave—if there was anything left to return to. She leaned into the wind as she ascended to the rooftop, summoning circle laid out before her and dotted with melted stubs of candles. Everything felt raw from the bite of the weather off the Sea of Ghosts, from the salt, and from the gravity of what she was about to do. But she’d long since run out of tears. Or so she thought.

“Durant, wait!”

A familiar voice, and one that ached to hear. She’d told him she had to go. The entire goal of all this research and all this time was to find a way back home. He knew this. News of her and her research was why he traveled all the way to this snowbank of a town to begin with, and…well. She knew why he stayed. 

Aubrey tilted her head back as if the motion would prevent the tears from falling. Her braids, unbound and held by strength of will and third-day grime alone came unraveled in the wind, dark curls flying every which way. She pulled the hood of her mage robes up and tried to ignore his voice and the sound of his footsteps echoing as he ran up cold stone steps. Ignoring him as best as she could, Aubrey stood in the center of the circle and wiped away the stray tears that had managed to escape.

Professor Gestor had found her here, curled in on herself, protecting her head, freezing to death in the scrap of white cotton dress that had survived her crossing. They thought she’d been imprisoned in Oblivion, narrowly escaping some horrible death by the hand of some nightmare or another. How very close to the truth that had been. That was the story the College proliferated on her behalf while feelers were put out for any resources that could help at all. That was the story that attracted the attention of Neloth. That was why Talvas was still here, calling her name and weakening her resolve. Gods, but he wouldn’t leave, would he?

She pushed her sleeve back and ran her hand down the black rose-and-bramble tattoos on her left arm, fingers pausing at each white ink starburst interspersed within illustrated flora. She had sixteen now—had earned the last one on her wrist bone before the summoning. Maybe she hadn’t earned it at all, considering the result.

The memory was like a slash from a razor, still too raw, still open to infection.

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Hiding Behind The Shield

“Lift up over all the [covering] shield of saving faith, upon which you can quench all the flaming missiles of the wicked [one].” Ephesians 6:16AMPC

“Flaming missiles” another translation, “fiery darts” —per history— Romans dipped their arrows in a tar like substance which was lit afire just as the arrow was shot. Without a metal shield to stop the arrow, clothing was caught on fire, bodies incinerated. This is exactly what satan tries to do to us. He wants us to be injured, repeatedly if possible in our weakest places, until we become crippled or die. Believers— he has no right to kill us, but too often we become inoperable from the “flaming missiles”.

One of our pastors preached illustrated sermons on the whole armor of God. He was using what was supposed to have been replicas of Roman armor. The girdle of truth was little more than a leather belt with a small leather loin cloth; breastplate of righteousness was an actual covering of the chest area; shoes— leather sandals strapped around the legs; helmet of salvation actually covered more than any of the other pieces of armor.

What impressed me in Pastor’s sermon series was the shield of faith. Pastor had a large rectangle piece of metal, totally large enough to hide behind.Since then I’ve read Roman shields were interlocking to join soldier to soldier creating one impenetrable wall. (How did they have room to use their weapons?) Hiding behind the shield would be my location. in Christ, see Colossians 3:3.

Faith is a different protectant for Believers in 1 Thessalonians 5:8NLT “But let us who live in the light be clearheaded, protected by the armor of faith and love…”

When searching the scriptures for the word “shield,” I discovered King David had another description, Psalm 28:7ESV “The LORD is my strength and my shield; in Him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to Him” And Psalm 33:20NIV “We wait in hope for the LORD; He is our help and our shield.”

Rather than looking at the shield of faith in an abstract manner, I see Jesus as the Shield I lift up. There’s nothing which can penetrate Jesus, nothing.

When we look at the “armor of God,” we see: —Girdle of truth, “[Then] He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings shall you trust and find refuge; His truth and His faithfulness are a shield and a buckler.” —Breastplate of righteousness, 2Corinthians 5:21NKJV “For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” —Shoes of the gospel of peace, (I picture cowboy/girl boots with snake guards on them to stomp on satan’s head), Romans 1:16NIV “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.” —Helmet of salvation, 1Thessalonians 5:8AMP “…and as a helmet, the hope and confident assurance of salvation.” —Sword of the Spirit, Hebrews 4:12NIV “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”

We’re preparing to enter a time where only those hidden inside the armor and behind the Shield will thrive. Otherwise those “fiery missiles” will injure us badly. Are you putting on the armor and getting behind the shield daily? I’m serious, this is important. It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: LORD God of covenant thank You for giving us the armor of Your Son. We need the Shield, call us deeper in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2023 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you

[the-silentium]

Siren Song

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 3025 words

Warnings: Blood, monsters, ANGST.

A/N:  Thanks to @shadow-hyder​ who helped choose who got hurt in this chap ~

Taglist:  @haloangel391​ / @lightning-wolffe​ / @cherrydemon5​ / @and-claudia​ / @clone-rambles​ / @mandaloriandin​

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"Wrecker. I knew you'd come to help me." 99 whispered through his comm.

Wrecker couldn't contain his excitement at his ori'vod calling out to him. He was alright, on this planet, away from the long-necks and their experiments, away from the dirty looks and degrading whispers, away from all the forced maintenance. He left the rainy planet like he always dreamt he would. 

For so long Wrecker ached for the reunion with his brother. He had so much to say to him, from his biggest explosion to date to his best prank on the regs with Crosshair and he couldn't forget to relate how he fought a giant snake that could have easily swallowed him whole in a single bite! 

He could already see 99 listening intently to each of his words, nodding and smiling as he would move his hands around to illustrate his words, because words weren't powerful enough to convey the power of the moment. 

Clone force 99 would be complete with its fifth member on board. All they needed to do was get him out of there with the rest of them. 

"That's not him! Guys!" 

For a split second, Wrecker had forgotten their newest teammate. Their cabur'ika. He was so wrapped up in helping his vod that he forgot everything else and let his body take control. His body knew what to do, fighting was in his blood. 

A new spark burned to life in his chest at the prospect of presenting you to his very wise sibling, maybe he could help you with your insecurities like he helped them all with theirs. 

"I know his voice Y/N! That's him!" He pushed forward, his team right behind him. 

You'd see soon, it was worth it. 99 was worth it. 

"Stay under the trees!"

He would have laughed at your words if he hadn't caught a glimpse of a man standing near a river. Trees were everywhere on this planet, you didn't have to worry. Instead, he forced his legs to move faster. 

A huff resonated through the comm just as 99 called again, the newfound fear in his voice made Wrecker's blood boil in worry and anger. 

He was almost there. He'd help. He'd save him. 

A nagging feeling plagued the back of his mind. It was just like when he forgot to close the light of the fresher one night and caused the ship to be inoperable for a couple of days or when he forgot Crosshair in a secluded village while on a supply run. He couldn't tell what was wrong, all he knew was that something wasn't as it was supposed to be. 

Wrecker got to the edge of the river, 99 just on the other side of the large angry stream. The ravine they had followed for a while was visible from his spot on the bank. It seemed they had moved a klick away from it and deeper into the jungle. The tall wall of rock and mud abruptly stopped and disappeared under a tumultuous waterfall that would be breathtaking in broad daylight. 

He doesn't see them, but Wrecker heard the soft steps of his brothers joining his sides. He didn't acknowledge their presence in the slightest, his eyes being glued to his elder kneeling on the ground clutching his chest, the grunts of pain leaving his mouth were too clear over the roaring water separating them. 

Without thinking he took a step forward, carefully setting foot in the deep river to reach the other side without getting carried away by the rapids. 

“Wrecker, what are you doing?” Hunter put a hand on his pauldron to keep him from going further into the water.

“He’s hurt!”

Without wasting a second, Wrecker harshly shrugged Hunter's hand away to venture into the raging water, fighting for his balance against the strong current pushing against his abdomen threatening to take him further through the jungle. Wrecker winced as static took over his comm, drowning the words of his team behind him. 

99's voice overflowed the nagging sound to encourage him forward, inciting him to grab the outstretched hand as soon as he was within reach. 

"Stay back." Wrecker ignored the help, he didn't want to pull his older brother into the river where he'd have no chance to survive. 

The ignored hand gripped his armpit in a useless effort to assist him, water dripped down his soaked blacks and armor, nurturing the grass below. 

"Are you okay 99?" Without wasting a second, Wrecker turned to his brother, already reaching for his frail shoulder. 

The sight squeezed his heart in nostalgia. There he stood, smiling just like the last time the Batcher saw him when they departed for their mission on Devaron. He even opened his arms like he always did whenever they’d all return from their assignments. This was him.

An urge to jump into the long-awaited embrace propelled his body forward to carefully wrap his strong arms around the fragile form of 99. Relief flooded his brain as soon as he felt arms wrapping around his own waist, numbing his senses to concentrate solely on this moment.

"Thank you for making all the way to me." He heard his voice in his comm, as clear as day, the background white noise abruptly muted as Wrecker's eyes widened in understanding. 

He managed to pull away slightly before the sight in front of him paralyzed his muscles. By fear, surprise or sadness, he couldn't decide which one had more control over his body. 

“Thank you for saving me Wrecker.” 99's lips stayed glued together despite the words echoing through the soldier's head. The once calming smile had lost all its warmth only to be replaced with a way more sinister grin. 

Half of 99- no, half of the monster disappeared under a layer of darkness slowly bleeding from its eyes, nose and mouth, the black goo covering its right side morphed into parts of someone else. Brown hair, a youthful smile, a broad muscular arm, they all appeared for a moment before the goo engulfed them again and changed over and over again, never truly setting on anything in particular. 

The shiver running up his spine brought the man to his senses long enough for his brain to order his body to move away from the threat. His chest separated from the smaller one as his feet stumbled backward. Unfortunately, his left hand didn't have such luxury. The liquid tightened around his fingers, crept over his palm to reach his forearm and slide under the sleeve of his blacks. 

He pulled and pulled again without any success. He was trapped. 

"So long…"

It was cold as death, enough to chill the giant to the bone. Bile raised in his throat as the sticky feeling crept up his skin. He tugged as hard as he could, but inches by inches the wicked sludge reached his elbow, gaining complete control over his arm. 

"It has been so long…" 

For some reason the tank of a man has never felt as small as in this instant, heterochromatic eyes staring up at him right in the eyes like his opaque visor wasn't even there. 

"We're so hungry." 

Before he could register the meaning behind his words, Wrecker went flying backward a few meters away from his initial standing spot, a heavyweight on his chest pinning him to the ground. 

Everything was happening too fast. Wrecker had some difficulties keeping up. That is until the unprotected skin of the underside of his upper arms burned worse than a blaster wound, his brain instantly knew what happened. 

With a yelp followed by a powerful kick, the clone tried to once again to dislodge the opponent clinging to him. His movements didn't send the gigantic thing rolling like he hoped, instead it merely shrieked in his face and flapped its cracked white wings to fly away, claws still locked around his arms. 

Fortunately for once, the beast doesn't get off the ground. Unfortunately, it meant that some parts of its prey had to go. 

Massive maws closed around his helmet, offering an absolutely atrocious view of the beast's mouth and throat. Wrecker would never admit it, but the sudden fear forced his eyes closed for a split second, protecting his fragile orbs by doing so.�� Shards of his visor exploded under the assault of some particularly sharp teeth, scratching the sensitive skin around his eyes. 

This high level of panic was completely new for him and he didn't like it one bit. A nice adrenalin rush was one thing. This was far from the enjoyable spectrum. He wanted to yell for help, but who would hear his call? He was alone. 

The pressure around his head was increasing fast. Saliva covered his helmet, leaving Wrecker to blindly touch around his head for the maws, fingers slipping between the sparse teeth to force them open. The grip around his upper arms tightened, shooting a new wave of searing pain through his body as the claws dug deeper into his flesh. 

Ignoring his agonizing arms, he put more strength behind his movement and had the toothy vice open in a second. A well-placed kick on the bird sternum sent it flying backward, liberating his lacerated skin in the process. 

Hands cleaned his visor in a haste but stopped as soon as his fingertips started to tingle. The soft feeling soon morphed into full-on burning, prompting the soldier to wipe his hands onto the grass at his sides. 

Holes adorned the once intact tactical gloves, showing the damaged skin that it was supposed to protect. 

Before he could question the condition of his hands, a screech pulled him back to reality. 

The milky bird was big, easily four times his size with weird legs and two pairs of arms. The long white beak was pretty sharp with nasty teeth occasionally poking out, its maws opening frantically on a high pitch screech, its old-paper like wings flapping in anger at its side. 

Following the blue trail of bolts hitting the creature, the calls of his brother resonated through the comm without any interference as soon as his eyes landed on their offensive positions. 

His brothers. He remembered them now. He wasn't alone. They were here. 

"-ot responding." Tech 

"Wrecker! Come back here!" Wrecker winced at the very loud order coming from his sergeant. Apparently, it wasn't the first time he barked his instructions. 

"I'll get h-" Static filled his ears once again as 99 appeared at his side, hands wrapped around his pauldron.

"Don't leave me. Please Wrecker, help me.."  

"I'll hel-" His words were cut off by a sudden pull from behind, quickly followed by water engulfing his armor. 

Gasping, Wrecker tried to keep his head above water by instinct but failed miserably. The strong current left him totally helpless, the force of the water digging into his injuries to make him totally unable to move them around to get to the surface. Where was the surface? He turned on himself so much that nothing made sense anymore. 

A pull on his back stopped his body from turning in all directions, halting his quick descent down the river. Multiple hands pulled him out of the stream and wasted no time to pull him upright. 

"Wrecker can you hear me?" Hunter shook his shoulder forcefully. 

Too soon Wrecker tried to lift himself up using his arms to reassure his brother. All he managed to do was to almost faceplant into the wet dirt beneath his torso. 

"99." Was all he could say. He still felt a pull towards the other bank where he knew his oldest brother was still waiting for him. 

"There's nothing there. It's not real." Hands lifted him by the armpits to take him back under the cover of the trees. "It was a trick."

"No he's right there!" The clone was getting frustrated as everyone ignored his hand pointing behind them focussing instead on keeping him upright. 

A shriek pierced the night followed by a sudden splash of water, causing the three soldiers to jump simultaneously. Wrecker turned just in time to see the bird emerging from the river and fly away with something bright in its mouth.

Once the beast disappeared over the horizon, every memory repressed by the weird fog obscuring his brain came back to the front of his mind. Tears ran down his cheeks as he remembered that 99 died in a Seppie attack on Kamino, that he wasn't there to help. 

He had to bite his bottom lip to keep his whimpers from escaping, the pain of losing his brother a second time was way worse than it originally felt. Whatever it was back there felt so real, so warm, it told him exactly what he needed to hear and acted like the one and only 99. Deep down maybe he knew already but allowed himself to be blinded by hope. 

And hope crushed his heart in the more twisted way possible. 

Crosshair was the first to let go of his brother when they got deep enough into the line of trees, moving his attention to the grapple fixed under his rifle to put it away. So that's what pulled him into the river. 

"Are you okay Wrecker?" Hunter's worry pulled at his already suffering heart. 

"I am." He weakly mumbled, quieting down the hisses of pain menacing to erupt from his throat. 

"We don't have much time." Hunter carefully lowered himself to set his brother at the foot of a large tree. "We have to patch you up and search for Y/N before anything that might 've heard the noises comes this way." 

 Wrecker perked up at the mention of your disappearance, his eyes roamed the surroundings to get a glimpse of your shirt painted in blood and guts that always gave him a tiny heart attack every time he looked at it. He never thought not seeing that shirt would fill him with dread. 

"What happened?" He asked just as Tech removed his helmet to toss it at Crosshair for examination. 

The jungle looked way more terrifying without the night vision helping his sight. Without it, every shadow looked like an Algax silently staring with its inexistent orbs. 

"We don't know. We were too…" Tech trailed off, quickly assessing the wounds on his arms. "focussed to notice anything." 

Wrecker winced at the same time Crosshair did, although for a totally different reason. Tech stopped poking at the edges of the wounds to stuff some gauze pads on the bleeding lacerations before wrapping them with a sterile wrap. 

"Cross?" He asked his brother that stopped analyzing the helmet to lose himself in his thoughts, eyes fixed on one of the holes in the visor. 

He seemed taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered, rolling the customized helmet in his hands. 

"Night vision stopped working on one of the lenses. Too damaged. The front is melted at some places," He turned the helmet over to trace a long crack at the back of the head. "and it may not resist a hit to the right place." 

The frustration in his tone wasn't lost on anyone. Clearly, the helmet wasn't the subject of his irritation and no one had to ask for the truth. They were all prey of the same guilt. 

"I'm sorry. She told us not to follow voices." Wrecker averted his eyes, not able to look at his fuming brother anymore. Whatever happened to you was his fault. If only he hadn't followed the voices, you wouldn't be missing. 

Bile raised in his throat as his mind wandered on the dreaded questions. What happened? Were you in danger? Or hurt? Or dead? 

From his experience on this planet, Wrecker knew it was safe to assume that you crossed paths with a monster of the night. This was a certainty. All there was to speculate on was your wellbeing. 

"Her tracker is still working, we'll find her." Tech applied a small bacta patch that he pulled out of his belt onto the palm of Wrecker's hand, the latter hissing in pain. 

"You're lucky the water washed off any remaining chemical that burned your skin or else we'd see some bones if the state of your helmet is anything to go by." He admired the edges of the burns that weren't covered by the patch. "I'll wrap your fingers together to keep them from moving on each other so refrain from closing your hand. You'll only damage it more."

"But I won't be able to shoot!" He frowned, teeth clashing together as Tech put some gauze between his fingers and wrapped the bandages tightly together. 

"Blasters don't work anyway." Hunter grumbled as he turned back to them, letting go of the hair at the back of his neck to face his team. 

"But light does." The engineer got on his feet to help Wrecker, offering his forearm to pull him up.

"Light?" 

"I threw an emergency light stick at it." 

"How did you know it would chase it?" Wrecker pulled on his helmet that Crosshair held out to him. 

Having only one night vision lens would make it difficult for him to continue, hopefully, it wouldn't slow him down too much or cause him to miss some monster out there. He couldn't be more of a burden than he already was at the moment. 

"I didn't. It was merely a theory." He typed away at his vambrace, missing Wrecker's bewildered expression. "And I was only partially correct. They indeed are reactive to light, but they do not fear it as I initially thought. Turns out that light enrages them. It gave up on you in order to eat the stick." He explained in his signature matter of fact tone.

Before anyone could add to the previous conclusion, Tech continued. 

"I got her position. She's close” The corners of Wrecker’s lips lifted slightly. They could track you, everything would be fine from here. You weren’t lost. “and unmoving." The whispered last words rang loud and clear in all the clones' ears.

Wrecker's breath wasn't the only one to abruptly stop.

[kettlequills]

Chapter 1: waking dreams: master of fate

Miraak is victorious against the Last Dragonborn at the Summit of Apocrypha, and reclaims his rightful place as ruler of Solstheim. However, the world he wakes to is not the one he left behind thousands of years ago. When the certainty Miraak once relied on is questioned, will he be able to adapt to this new world and the people within in time to prevent the destruction of all he has worked for? On A03 here.

Tags and tws: Blood and graphic violence, major death, mind control, Apocrypha, Mora.

“And so the First Dragonborn meets the Last Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha. No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended.” Miraak’s words rang out bold and proud over the inky seas that surrounded his lonely tower.

He stood, gleaming and glowing, every inch the Dragon Priest he had been, unchanged and preserved in time like a moth behind glass, since Hermaeus Mora’s theft of him from his rightful place at the helm of Tamriel. He kept his back straight and his shoulders tall, let his voice thunder with echoes, and he looked down upon the Last Dragonborn fearsomely-masked, staff in hand. His show, his pride, his excitement, was for his benefit, and theirs, and the dragons that watched them, silent and monumental in this battle of the ages.

Sahrotaar, Relonikiv, Kruziikrel. His companions, his servants, through his torment – and now, the witnesses of his triumph.

As they would all witness!

“The hour of my freedom from this place and its fickle master draws near!” Miraak cried exultantly, fought to remind himself it was for moments more premature, “and soon I will be master of my own fate, once again. My time in Apocrypha is over. And soon, so will be yours.”

Hermaeus Mora’s thousand-fold eyes were unseen in the sickly green sky, but Miraak knew he was there. If he peered over the sheer edge to that liquid darkness, he knew he’d see Seekers clustered like crows, with their ragged cloaks like tattered wings tugged by no current save that of Fate and Mora’s will in airless Apocrypha. In the waters themselves, he would see Lurkers bleeding oil with steady pulses that sat upon the ink in fiery shimmers. Even the constant muttering of rustling pages hissed and whispered amongst themselves, as if placing bets. He heard the riotous wet slap of the ink against the base of the tower, the tentacles beneath squirming like blind worms to the light, and Miraak knew the whole of Apocrypha was watching.

In the tautness of the near-silence, his dragon- and man-heart stuttered in its restless anticipation, cried with each pounding beat the hope of a thousand years’ work swift-coming culmination: soon, soon.

Steady and sure, the Last Dragonborn that returned his gaze. Even now, on the eve of his victory, he drank in the sight; how he had craved the presence of another as the years worn on in his lonely imprisonment.

The air seemed easier to breathe scented by the freshness of Nirn they carried in their lungs, and their arms, their armour, were richly coloured, the most vibrant thing in this world of nightmare and books. No pallid greens or inkblushed blues for them, this Dragonborn wore handsome red and burnished steel. They were solid, made strong by the grain and meat of Skyrim, by the grape and grass of their sun-dazzled, Aedric-blessed life outside this cursed realm. Even now, their form was faint to his eyes, anchored to their real body on Nirn. As he soon would be real, and subject to the pressures of the wind and the rain, the sun and sky, once more.

They were no simple Seeker of Mora’s knowledge, this Dragonborn, with their well-worn sword held sure in their grip and their scratched shield in the other, no, they came to Miraak in the armaments of a warrior, the trappings of an empire Miraak had seen in illustrations. Their skin was browned by sun, their dark eyes watchful and shadowed beneath the owl-face of their wood mask.

Such cheap imitation though their mask was, he scoffed internally, of the mighty artefact they would have been gifted had they walked in Miraak’s time – but no, the men of this new age were weak and stumbling, and remembered not what they ought. No matter, though, he thought, and felt his lips twist to bare his teeth unseen, Miraak would teach them.

“You will die here, by my hand,” Miraak continued, promised, “And with the power of your soul, I will enact my glorious return to Solstheim.”

Unaffected, or perhaps he dared to hope, sparked by this threat, the Last Dragonborn rolled their shoulders with a metallic grinding and extended one gauntlet. They beckoned to him insouciantly, and their feet slid apart to a fighting stance, ready to leap in any direction.

“No words for me, Dragonborn?” Miraak taunted, too eager to let this fated confrontation end without a moment to savour its richness upon his tongue, and the Last Dragonborn growled.

“You waste your breath,” they said, in their raw, untrained Voice of thunder, “Better to beg the name of the one who will be victorious: I am LAAT-AAZ-IN!”

“A strong name,” Miraak allowed, grinning savagely under his mask as their Shout rocked the tower beneath them, shivers of that power in the soles of his boots, “You could have been mighty, if fate had decreed otherwise, Slayer of Alduin.”

“Might is unnecessary to win against a man who only talks.” Laataazin nettled at his pride, but though their weapon was held ready they waited for him to speak first, as the elder of the two of them. The note of respect for Miraak was beyond what he had expected – the Greybeards it seemed had bothered to teach their rare pupil some things. Miraak burned to know what else.

“Is that so?” Miraak murmured, and he could not hold back anymore, mortal words were soft as snow in his mouth and he needed fire. “YOL TOOR SHUL!”

It was a mighty greeting, and Laataazin’s wide eyes vanished behind their shield. The plume of fire was brilliant and blinding-bright, and through it, Laataazin charged fearlessly at him. Blinking smoke from his eyes and too slow to leap aside, Miraak swept his staff across his chest. Their shield, glowing white-hot at the edges, smashed into him like a battering ram. The staff clanged hollowly at the brute impact.

They wrestled there at the summit. It was hot work. The thinner parts of Laataazin’s armour were molten and spark-bright, the flames that licked at the fabrics of their tabard smoking relentlessly. Miraak drove his heels into the soft leathery floor, refusing to back down even as he felt his staff begin to creak ominously and his muscles scream. Kruziikrel snarled – Miraak heard the snap of jaws, one of the other dragons harrying it. Sahrotaar? Laataazin had flown it to the summit. Their eyes burned in the firelight through the mask, behind the shield, glimpses of brown shimmering orange. Miraak met those fire-bright eyes, and saw in them a soul that mirrored his own.

Inexorably, Laataazin pushed him back.

Miraak gritted his teeth as he was forced back one step, then another. He had the height advantage, towering clear, he could see their skin bubbling and scalding under their armour at the intense heat, but Laataazin was strong. Cracks raced like fault-lines up his staff, and he had moments – moments, before it shattered in his grip.

They would disarm him? So be it!

He gave a giant shove, and Laataazin’s shield dipped as they staggered. He seized the opportunity and at once Miraak discharged all the magic in the staff. It exploded with a thunderous boom and crack of searing white light.

Miraak was blown clear, rolling quickly to his feet with visions of Laataazin planting their sword in his spine. He squinted around his arms protecting his head from the shrapnel flying everywhere, and hissed.

Laataazin had gone to one knee, but as he stared, they shrugged off the explosion and rose to their feet. Their mask had shattered on their face, and they swiped their metal-clad arm over the wreckage. Fresh blood splattered free from the splinters driven into the flesh of their face, but Laataazin did not pause a moment before raising their head to look for Miraak. Threateningly, their shoulders rolled back, their neck arched, and Miraak had just enough presence of mind to throw up a ward before Laataazin Shouted.

“YOL TOOR SHUL!”

His ward was battered by the strength of their fire, but held. Over the roar of the dragon-fire, Miraak could hear his actual dragons thrumming warmly in approval. Miraak’s fierce joy welled like a song in his heart. Laataazin’s Thu’um was strong, nearly his match. How long it had been, since he had had conversation with one of the Dov – true conversation, of magnificent fire and fury!

Miraak would not dishonour his opponent by holding back an inch. As Laataazin’s dragon-fire dimmed, Miraak shot a bolt of lightning into its heart. Laataazin cursed in a rumbling voice – either he’d surprised them or hit them. He followed it up immediately with a torrent of ice-storm. The cold was revitalising after the heat of their grappling, and even better, he heard the brittle snap of Laataazin’s armour. Thick mist descended, the hiss of his summoned snow spitting when it touched their searing hot armour, the tower.

Miraak drew his sword and spun it idly in one hand.

“Hiding is beneath you, Dragonborn,” he called smugly. Casting Muffle in one hand, he prowled around the column of mist and strained his eyes for any movement in the shadows inside. There – a flicker!

Miraak’s Cyclone Shout bolstered the speed of his limbs, until he was like a surging tempest. He rained down blows on Laataazin, their shield, their armoured shoulders, but Laataazin bore the vicious attacks like a fortress of stone. His oily weapon, the gleam of Mora’s eye dark against his wrist, spawned writhing tentacles that yanked and pulled at the ties of their armour. One strap frayed and snapped under his onslaught, and Laataazin leapt back as if they had just realised what he was about.

“Serpent!” they hissed at him, and Miraak smirked.

He turned his eyes to the crumbling pillars where the dragons snapped and snarled at each other. Relonikiv was tenting its wings, posturing at a growling Sahrotaar, whose finned tail lashed restlessly. Its eyes were dull and distressed.

“Weak that you are,” Miraak called up to it, “You may serve me again to redeem yourself.”

He summoned in a great breath to Shout, but Laataazin’s rung out first, with a crack like sundering worlds. All three dragons froze, the leash of Bend Will dropping over them like a lead blanket.

“Go!” Laataazin shouted hoarsely. They had pushed themselves to Shout sooner than they should have, Miraak could hear the cracks in their throat. No master indeed the Greybeards had raised.

Relonikiv was first, shooting up like an arrow from a bow, then Sahrotaar with a howl of “Thuri!” that sounded almost mournful. Kruziikrel fought, digging its talons into the pillars, but Relonikiv swooped down again to bite at its head until, roaring, Kruziikrel lumbered into the sky. Sahrotaar circled them in swooping lines, like a carrion bird over an army.

“Using my own Shout against me?” Miraak snarled, “They cannot help you up there!”

Miraak did not wait for them to recover but rushed to close the gap. He needed that shield gone if he wanted to close this fight and secure his freedom. Distracted by the dragons, Laataazin didn’t have time to raise their shield before he was on them.

“MUL QAH DIIV!” Miraak’s Dragon Aspect emblazoned him like a god, strengthened his attacks. He went for power this time, two hands clutching over the grip of his sword, blinding Laataazin with sweeps of his great spectral wings. They firmed beneath their onslaught, but their fierce eyes were looking at his face – and so therefore missed his tail lashing around to crack against their knee.

Laataazin stumbled, and Miraak wedged his sword under the shield and sent it flying. A well-placed lightning bolt had it soaring clear over the edge of the tower, and he retreated out of the range of their retribution. With how strong they were, he did not want to risk being caught beneath their blade. He imagined they must strike with the strength of a giant.

Facing him, Laataazin’s expression, marred by old scars and freshly-cut by the splinters of their mask, was a ferocious scowl. Their only reply was a wracking cough. They held their weaponless hand cocked protectively over their midriff, where the loosened strap had left their chestplate to sag on one side.

Relonikiv screamed anxiously.

They met with a furious clash. Evenly armed, though Miraak noted Laataazin had not once used magic, their struggle was one of bodies and clanging weapons. They drove notches into his sword with the force of their swings, jarred his arms all the way up to his shoulder. The fight was long, brutal, and messy. Thrice they cut him and once they just fisted a hand around his belt and headbutted him so hard his skull rang inside his mask.

The summit quickly became scarred with their tumultuous battle, smoking pits of dragon-fire and magical ice still crackling with the aftermath of lightning. The leathery spines of the books that made up this particular tower became waterlogged and swampy under their feet, making Miraak’s boots slide and slip when they bulled against him.

It was an intricate dance, and Miraak’s partner knew the steps well. Better, perhaps, than he, after all this time in Apocrypha with none but Seekers and Lurkers with whom to practice his skills. He praised their skill, and reassured them of the inevitability of his triumph. He could not lose. Miraak’s destiny was freedom.

Through it all, the ink swirled and sucked against the base of the tower, and the dragons circled far above it, their agitated roaring backdrop to the clashing of their blades, Miraak’s grunts when they pushed him back. Laataazin was quiet, but he heard the raspiness of their breathing, saw the sweat that dripped down their forehead and mingled with the blood on their face. He couldn’t stop himself from inhaling when they came together again, close as lovers with their breath misting the front of his mask. Their sweat was pure and human, untainted by daedra.

When they were so close he could feel the trembling of their muscles as they fought him not through their blade but through their brace against his chest, Miraak met their eyes. They were brown as earth, he noticed, narrowed in determination. Bloodshot, as if they hadn’t been sleeping well. He bared his teeth at them. How long had they spent, toiling at his stones? Were their bloody eyes his alone?

The tentacles of his sword oozing wetly down the guard of their own, Miraak leant all his weight on their arms. He bore down on them with all his height advantage, crowding the smaller Last Dragonborn until he could see the strain gritting their teeth.

“Getting tired, Dragonborn?” Miraak purred, ignoring the fatigue in his own muscles.

They flicked their gaze up to the dragons circling far overhead. Their arm shook. Miraak pushed harder, sensing an opportunity, and all at once their body trembled at the force of him and gave in. His sword punched into the gap in their armour and slid in to the hilt. Reflexively, Miraak tried to yank it free – but it had notched into bone, and all he achieved was making blood gush wet and warm from the wound.

Laataazin gasped.

For a brief moment, the both of them only blinked at the sword that speared from Laataazin’s chest, the blood that spurted steadily over Miraak’s gloves, but then suddenly, their weapon fell from nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor.

“NO!” Mora howled, “This cannot be!”

Laataazin fell, and Miraak caught them without knowing why. They were warm and real, heavy, in his arms. He sank to his knees to bear their weight, arrested by the sheer redness of their shocking-bright blood over their steely armour, his robes, his buckle. Exposed, Laataazin stared up at him, their ruined face mortal and small. This close, he noticed details about them he had not before; the grey hairs that stood among the close-cropped brown of their hair – older than Miraak looked, but centuries younger – the wrinkles around their eyes and mouth that told him they had loved to laugh, once. Laataazin did not laugh now. They coughed, a wet, rattling gurgle, and blood splattered over the scarred lips. They were trying to speak, he could see their lips fumbling, but only blood came out.

“This is the only way, Dragonborn,” Miraak hissed at them, “The only way I can be free.”

Their hand, weakly, curled into the front of his robes.

“This is not my design!” Mora shrieked, and Miraak was dimly aware of his tentacles racing over the floor towards them.

Laataazin’s wide eyes stared up at Miraak. Tears of pain glittered on their cheek. Their breath was shallow and rattling around the sword. They were going to suffocate on their own blood; Miraak had perforated their lung. But there was no time for Laataazin to die slowly in Miraak’s arms. Mora was coming.

Miraak gripped the Last Dragonborn’s jaw, and closed his eyes, his bloody gloved hand spreading red stains over Laataazin’s neck as he sought the softness of their temples, then the back of their head. He pulled on his magicka, that deep and verdant pool inside of him. And then as Mora reached them, Miraak cast the strongest lightning spell he knew.

A snap of burning flesh and Mora’s scream. Laataazin’s body convulsed in his arms, and Miraak roared in pain as the electricity shot through his own body, but they were dead before their stunned hand could untwist from their robes.

Mora’s tentacles wrapped around Laataazin’s chest and yanked. Miraak clung to their body doggedly.

“No,” he shouted, “NO! You won’t-“

A bolt of green magic struck his shoulder and Miraak cried out. Seekers – waves of them, coming up the side of the tower-

Laataazin’s flesh was beginning to glow, Miraak maintaining a death grip on them as the embers of their soul roared to life and surged into him. He felt their flesh dissolving against his fingers, felt the hungry jaws inside his dragon-soul rear its jaw wide, ready to rend and tear Laataazin’s soul into nothing but power for Miraak.

Another blast of magic rocked him, then three more in quick succession. It blew him onto his back and Miraak stared through eyes blurred with pain as the three dragons in the sky tucked their wings and dove. Fire blasted from Sahrotaar, immolating a wave of Seekers before they could fire on Miraak again.

Mora’s tentacles thickened like snake coils and with a mighty heave, the Prince yanked Laataazin’s body from his grasp. Miraak clung to the shred of the Last Dragonborn’s soul even as their body was ripped away from him. With effort, Miraak plunged his magic into the centre of Laataazin’s soul, and followed that tiny, tugging thread, back to Laataazin’s real body.

The air rent wide with a horrible Daedric scream. An unholy rictus of green light shredded open and Miraak saw through, warm darkness, firelight, Nirn. Mora was howling with rage, his thick tentacles wrapping around Miraak’s neck, his body, his limbs, trying to slow him down. The dragons protected him from the Seekers, rode flaming passes over Mora’s tentacles so they withered and popped with the thick reek of smoking oil, but Miraak felt himself being dragged back, slowly, into Mora’s embrace.

“No, no, no,” he gasped, desperation searing as tears in his eyes.

For a moment, Miraak felt a surge of something, as if some dying ember of the Last Dragonborn had heard his cry as he ate their soul, and then the glorious streams of gold and blue and green became fire, dragonfire, infused with all the colours of Keizaal’s auroras and hotter than its sun.  A rancid smell boiled up as Mora’s tentacles bubbled and burnt in the fire of Laataazin’s soul infusing into Miraak, their flesh into his, their will becoming his own.

Miraak forced his foot through the portal, then his shoulder. He struggled there like a fly caught in a web as the portal began to narrow and waver, his body wrenched between planes by Mora’s tentacles.

“Niid,” Miraak roared, “MUL QAH DIIV!”

His Dragon Aspect formed spears of spines that drove into Mora’s tentacles, causing the Daedric Prince to snarl. The tentacle hold loosed, just barely, just slightly, and Miraak stumbled forward, out, out, out, into Nirn.

Miraak collapsed to his knees onto Laataazin’s fleshless body, hearing their bones rattle within the casings of their armour at the force of the collision. With his last shred of strength, he reached back and hooked his hand into the portal, feeling Apocrypha’s fury shred into the bone and muscle of his hand. It was agony, agony, but first Sahrotaar’s blue snout wrested its way out, Relonikiv, slim and quick, and Kruziikrel, shouldering through with a deep bass roar at the tightening shred of Mora’s thorns.

The portal snapped closed with a resounding boom. Miraak felt Mora’s presence die, a last imprint of futile, terrible rage.

One of the dragons was howling, and droplets of dragonblood were stinging acidic on Miraak’s shoulders, his bowed head. His hand was a wreck, bloody ink gushing from the wounds, and Miraak was laughing, laughing.

He gripped Laat Dovahkiin’s empty chestplate until his gloves creaked. Their mask rattled free of their fleshless skull, blank white wood yet unbroken here, with no eyes, no enemy, no soul. Miraak gasped for breath around horrible laughter that wrenched at his chest as if it were possessing him, hot tears in his eyes.

Miraak was free.

(tags: @sumsaltysorceress @argisthebulwark)

[kageygirl]

also on ao3

part 1 here

"Tell me he'll be all right, Roach," Jaskier says softly, but Roach is a clever lady with her own will who doesn't hold with such foolish thoughts, and therefore ignores him, continuing to nibble at a bush.

"I know," he sighs, and shifts to get a bit more comfortable. It's late, and he should just get to his bedroll, instead of curling against the log he'd been using as a backrest, but his crossed arms atop the log make a fair enough pillow. And it would be downright unchivalrous to abandon a lady like that. "I know it's just a ghoul, I know he can handle that, they're probably in a book somewhere with horribly colorful illustrations. A Witcher's First Monster."

Roach snorts, and he mutters, "Yes, well, you're hardly keeping up your end of the conversation, you've no right to criticize my jokes. Put in some effort, why don't you."

It's not that he truly doubts Geralt's abilities, any more than he doubts that the sun will rise in the morning. But sometimes when Geralt goes off alone and it's too quiet, no music or laughter or people to distract him, he thinks about how witchers never retire and his mind runs off into the dark thickets beyond the firelight where all but witchers fear to tread.

He'd been told as a child that his vivid imagination was a curse; it took him years to understand how that could possibly be true.

"I'm sorry, my lady, I shouldn't have said that. You are truly the loveliest of company," he says, resting his cheek against his arm. She's glossy in the fire's reflection, all combed out by Geralt before he left. He would dare anyone to think witchers have no feelings after seeing the care Geralt lavishes upon her. "How about a song, Roach? To lift our spirits?"

She whuffs at her name, and he takes that as assent. Quietly, barely vocalizing at all, he begins an old Redanian pastoral that he hasn't sung in years.

~

He wakes to the smell of leather and oil and sweat, and a tingling at the crown of his head, as if someone had run their fingers through his hair.

"'M awake," he mumbles blearily.

"You shouldn't be," says a low voice. Gravelly voice. Good voice, goes with the smell, and it's... not really a good smell? But it's a particular person's smell, and that person is very good, so: good smell, after all. "Were you bothering my horse?"

"I provided her with" -- he's ambushed by a yawn, cracking his jaw cruelly -- "only the finest entertainment." He rubs an eye with the back of his wrist, trying to wake himself up, but his eyelids have been heartlessly weighted down by some unknown blackguard. "She's a paragon of taste and sophistication. I can tell she appreciated it."

"Mmm."

There's something faintly mocking about that hum, and he's considering mustering the energy for outrage. Any minute how, it'll be right along. "Wanted to wait for you," he says, and sleep's lingering grasp makes it come out more grumpy than he intended -- and more plaintive, too. Bollocks.

His cheeks are just starting to burn, and he's clinging to the possibility that Geralt will just somehow fail to notice, because sometimes one just really needs the gods to give them a break, just forgive all the blasphemy, and --

-- and there are careful fingers trailing through his hair, now, definitely, and oh, he must have been a very good bard indeed. Somehow.

The fingers comb delicately across his scalp, fingertips teasing the fringe away from his face, dipping to curve around the curl of his ear, trailing the warm humming feeling of being cared for behind them. It's the kind of gentleness Geralt never gets to show, because no one ever wants him for that.

Damp-headed fools, the lot of them.

All the tension sighs out of him, and he raises his head a bit, nudging against Geralt's hand. "Feels nice," he murmurs. His cheeks are still prickling with the embers of his embarrassment, but perhaps Geralt will let him blame the lateness of the hour for his dozy neediness.

He's honestly not expecting a reply at all, so when it does come, it burrows that much deeper into his heart. "For me, too," Geralt says, the faintest hesitant rasp, just louder than the crackle of the fire.

The thrill that gives him is the strength he needs to open his eyes.

Geralt is crouched beside him, whole and hale and well. The cheeky firelight makes his pale stubble shine in the dark as it licks at his jaw, and Jaskier is far too well acquainted with the urge to do the same.

He notices the moment Jaskier opens his eyes, because of course he does, and Jaskier only gets the teeniest sliver of an instant to appreciate the soft look in his eyes before his jaw works and he angles his face away. His fingers make one last pass through Jaskier's hair, and then cup the back of his neck. "Get to your bedroll, bard. I'd rather not hear about your back all day tomorrow."

"Fine," he grumbles, just to watch the smirk play at the corners of Geralt's mouth. Then he sets about the monumental task of figuring out where all of his limbs have wandered off to and how to convince them to work together once more.

Like most group endeavors he'd had at Oxenfurt, getting himself to his feet is a qualified success. He stumbles at the finish line, and doesn't mind the mixed metaphor so much when he's saved from falling into the fire by a solid wall of witcher.

It turns out that having his hands unexpectedly pressed against Geralt's chest is a shockingly effective wake-up call. He'd somehow managed to sleep through Geralt getting out of his armor and cleaning himself up and taking care of his swords, and he feels like he's in danger of being chided for that inattention. He can't really worry about that, though, not when he can feel the steady rise and fall of Geralt's muscley chest through a thin layer of cotton, the wolf medallion half-hidden under a fold and winking at him.

He probably spends a bit too long appreciating it, but what is he supposed to do? It's a very nice chest.

He glances up, and Geralt's watching him. Not humorlessly, not sardonically, not any of the other uncharitable adverbs that Jaskier would never put into a song but sometimes considers ever so briefly, just to make a point... but with a patience that feels almost indulgent.

To someone not nearly so fluent in Witcherese, it might not seem like much. But it's such a change from having to scrabble around for (and possibly invent) meagre scraps of affection, so much so that the guards at Jaskier's heart are momentarily laid low.

"I'm glad that you're all right, Geralt." It comes out softly, plainly, in a way he rarely lets himself be. No artifice or dramatic hyperbole, no ironic detachment or invoking an imaginary other. There's an icy coil of panic in his throat after it's out, but he swallows it down; Geralt came back to him unscathed, and he deserves to know that it means something to Jaskier.

"It was only a ghoul." He says it with the supreme unconcern of someone who's dispatched far worse creatures, which is… true. But there's a searching look in his eyes, as if he can't understand why anyone would bother to be concerned about him.

"Yes, well, you're not 'only an' anything," he says, a little hotly, and it's partly about the parade of idiots who've failed to appreciate the witcher, and partly about the idiot in front of him who thinks Jaskier would be one of the former. "You're one of a kind, White Wolf."

Geralt blinks, and then says blandly, "There are other witchers."

Jaskier takes a breath to begin to address that nonsense, and then registers that even for Geralt, that was too bland -- that even with the firelight, his golden eyes are glinting a bit too much. "You know, Geralt -- fine, you're right, you win." He drops his hands and steps back, muttering, "Yes, you're all inter-bloody-changeable, it's ridiculous that I care so much about this witcher in particular..."

He tromps over to his bedroll -- which is nicely laid out already, with a waterskin beside it that he's betting is full, and there probably aren't even any rocks or twigs under it to poke him in the night, and he turns to glare at the witcher who ever so occasionally makes it difficult to remain mad at him, and yes, he appreciates the irony, thank you --

-- only to find that Geralt is in the same spot he was, watching Jaskier, and he looks a bit… lost.

Jaskier caves like a -- whatever it is that caves, he's tired and has other things to worry about. "Geralt?" he asks, stepping back over to him. "What is it?"

"I--" Geralt says, and then drops his chin to stare down and away. When he returns to meeting Jaskier's gaze, only his eyes move. His voice is raspy again when he says, "Thank you."

He has to wind the conversation back a bit -- and skip past the parts that only happened in his head -- but then it hits him, reminding him not a little of once taking a very jarring tiny cannonball to the forehead. "Geralt… that's not a surprise, is it?" he asks, as gently as he knows how. "That I care about you?"

Geralt doesn't answer, just gives him that not-quite-direct look, which is more than answer enough.

"I'm sorry, I -- I always thought you knew," he says, around the lump in his throat. It hurts, to think that Geralt can spot a lie at a thousand paces and hear all the signs that a man's preparing to attack him, but even when it's staring him in the face, he can't sense…

Well. It's just sort of a different language, isn't it? And if a talented and charismatic bard can teach a room full of drunks the history of their realm with a catchy little rhyme, then surely that same bard can handle a single, much more important learner.

He's caught unawares by another yawn, and he blinks back from it to find Geralt facing him again, a somber look in his eyes. "You should rest."

"I should," Jaskier agrees, and he dares to circle his fingers around Geralt's wrist, tugging lightly. "And so should the witcher who made sure there's one less ghoul in the world."

"Three less," Geralt says, and oh, that's new information, but for a wonder, Geralt lets Jaskier pull him towards the bedrolls, so he chooses not to let it upset him. (He'd noted Geralt's bedroll was next to his earlier, of course, but ignored it on the grounds of it not fitting into the narrative of pique he'd been building.)

"Braggart," Jaskier says only, and Geralt breathes out a laugh.

It's right about then that his body decides his borrowed time is up, and he all but collapses into his bedding. He drifts a bit as Geralt goes through his own routine, but stirs himself to roll and face the witcher once he's settled.

"If you wake up before me," he says to Geralt's profile -- as if it happens any other way all that often -- "feel free to play with my hair. If you want."

Geralt snorts, but his mouth curves up, just a bit. "Noted."

Then Geralt reaches over, drawing his thumb and forefinger gently down Jaskier's eyelids, and he's out like the proverbial light.

[moonlight--cafe]

@just-a-random-shawol

Hello again, here is your mixtape ship! Thank you for requesting it, I had a lot of fun doing this one. But I just have to say it now you have such good taste in music, it sounds weird but I felt so at peace with the world listening to your music it just felt so right. Anyways enough of that, onto your ship. I hope you have a good day and I will try and complete the rest of your ships soon.

~SuperM~   Taemin 

~General Analysis~

Never have I found a playlist that accurately describes a persons personality, seriously! I know I just did an overall ship for you but I think I’ve come to fully understand who you are as a person thanks to the list of songs you’ve sent  me. I know you may have forgotten which songs you mentioned in your request so I’m going to mention them here, it would make much more sense for you to know what songs you sent in. 

Heaven- Taemin

Mirage- BTOB 4U

Forbidden Island- Ha Sungwoon

Love Killa- Monsta X

When- Samuel Seo 

Memoirs- Gwangil Jo 

Life Sucks-  HA:TFELT

Circle- Golden

G+Jus Freestyle- Justhis

Now, the fact that you have Heaven on your playlist isn’t what drove me to shipping you with Taemin. Whether you realise it or not there is clear substance to all of these songs, if we temporarily put the addictive flow of the songs aside there is an overarching theme that still connects these songs to one another: Drive. There is an intense amount of passion inserted into the lyrics, it doesn’t matter what the lyrics discuss each artist is reciting them with all their heart and soul.  This was the motivation that I needed to choose your couple song, whether you acknowledge it by it’s sexual nature or not it is still holds power.

The idea of ‘Drive’ links back to an aspect of your personality that stuck out to me, you didn’t have to say it but from what I’ve gathered there is an underlying sense of passion that encourages you to explore various aspects of life and death.  The theme of this ship was determined by your playlist and your description, the combination of white, grey and black illustrates the emotion present in your playlist and I feel that it is a suitable visualisation of the relationship you would have with Taemin. The theme is essentially my way of saying that you and Taemin would share a very intense relationship, it would be impossible for the two of you to initiate a relationship while remaining half-hearted about the whole situation. Taemin strikes me as a person who takes commitment seriously, he would have to be very desperate for him to have a no-strings-attached type of relationship. If we broke it down to the internal workings of your relationship with him you can see how strong it really is, externally the two of you seem quite mature in the way that you view things and how you come together as one, this results in your relationship appearing elevated above your standard relationship. The relationship just screams god-like, rich in nature and light academia. 

White is a colour used a lot in the moodboard, this was purposely done. White is normally given the reputation of being a passive colour that is primarily used for mixing. It is a common colour that isn’t really used for it’s purities unless highlighting or painting on a coloured canvas. In this instance white represents d the deep connection you have with Taemin. You are both insanely godlike in nature, while you both appear to be perfect there is self-realisation in the dark sides of your personalities, you also acknowledge all the wrongdoings that occur outside of the relationship. This doesn’t negatively effect the two of you instead it strengthens what you have, you can’t have light without darkness and through honesty and passion the two of you would come together and create a brilliant world where respect is given to both parties and where the two of you can express all of your creative thoughts and opinions. The world is your canvas and you and Taemin are fellow artists, there is strength in that peaceful analogy. 

~Moodboard~

~Your Song~ 

 ~Shufflemancy Reading~ 

Just for your love, yeah, I'll Give you the world Mona Lisa's smile Hey (oh, oh, oh, oh) And I'll do 25 to life If it makes me a king A star in your eyes

Guilty or innocent

My love is infinite, I'm giving it. 

[azaffranist]

Frozen 2 deleted/early content

On the road to F2 there were tons of leaks and I saved as many of them as I could in the fear that Disney would delete them (because they loved to shut down whole websites because of that back in the day). As a result I have a lot of pictures saved on my phone and looking back on them... some don’t sound quite right because it’s definitely not what I saw in the movie. So here’s everythinggg I have. I did my best to organize stuff a bit but there are so many things it was... hard. Feel free to add more stuff in reblogs, replies and such!

Something to note is that we won’t take into account the “officially” released deleted content, which would include everything that’s in the Blu-ray, because basically everyone already saw that (Home, I Seek the Truth, Get This Right, Unmeltable Me, the Secret Room scene, Hard Nokks, etc). Generally, we won’t be analyzing deleted scenes from the official trailers, either, because of this very reason. Something “official” that we will consider, though, are the deleted clips animators have been releasing on Instagram and other sites, because those aren’t that popular.

Before starting here’s the link to all the deleted F2 lines I could find as well as some other additions. The post itself has even more links to other posts containing deleted content so have fun clicking on links. 

Last thing to mention, none of the merch photos here are taken by me. I got most of them from the leaks channel of the Arendelle Kingdom server during 2019. If any image in this post belongs to someone here and you want to be credited please let me know and I’ll edit the post.

This post is long. Like really, really, lagging-my-browser-as-I’m-writing-it long. So grab some popcorn and get comfortable or just take a look at what interests you.

So without further ado, let’s get started!

Deleted Artbook Content

One of the most exciting leaks we got were definitely these sample artbook excerpts. None of these pages made it into the final artbook, though.

This piece definitely belongs in Iduna and Agnarr’s backstory, in which the Northuldra leader wasn’t an ordinary man but a shapeshifter.

The biggest picture in this page points to yet another version of Iduna and Agnarr’s backstory. It’s possible to deduce Bruni hadn’t been fully developed yet or created at all since the fire isn’t pink.

The one on the bottom right seems to be an earlier version of the “forest freed” scene in the final movie, or maybe it happened in another moment altogether.

The most interesting of the three, though, is this one. Nothing in the movie points to the existence of a place like this. It’s interesting to note that this peculiar house looks very similar to Iceland’s “elf houses”, tied to the myth of the Huldufólk, “hidden people”, who were said to be small and live in a parallel world, being able to make themselves visible at will.

These are definitely the inhabitants of the Enchanted Lands, who look completely different than in the final movie with their long cloaks, hoods and staves. They look like mages. Were these the very first concepts of the Northuldra, or another group of characters altogether that ended up being scrapped? Only Ahtohallan knows...

Even though the tree and the vegetation illustration is in the book, there’s one missing and that one is the bottom left. One of the most popular theories in the fandom regarding that illustration is that it was an Arendellian military camp tied to the expedition to the Enchanted Lands. I think what we got in the movie is a watered down version of a much more violent and sinister endeavor to invade the Northuldra. The above mentioned deleted scene of the battle of Arendellians agains Northuldrans is proof of that.

This one shows the Arendellian gang and most likely Mattias looking at the walls of a cave with drawings on it depicting the Nokk among other things that I can’t quite make out. I’ve heard people say that an earlier version of F2 involved the gang encountering Mattias in a volcanic cave and that’s where this scene would go, but I don’t know if those are rumors or there’s an actual source. If someone happens to have knowledge on this topic in particular please let me know and I’ll update the post.

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Incomplete Frozen Fan Fest books and their alternate scenes

As I’ve mentioned in another post, Frozen Fan Fest happened on October 4th, 2019, and it was the official release of the movie’s first merchandise. We were all super excited to look at the storybooks and read the ending!

Except there was no ending and the books ended abruptly right before Olaf’s death, completely skipping over Show Yourself.

You hear that? “Elsa bravely dives into the Dark Sea”. We know the Dark Sea scene was shortened and that’s more proof.

This section of a Frozen 2 storybook explains how it went a bit better. After Elsa was defeated twice by the ferocious waves she climbed up some giant rocks and dove back in. Only Ahtohallan knows how that would be effective in this situation and not a waste of strength, but hey, I’m sure it looked super cool and I’d be down to see it.

”Elsa trudged through terrible winds and thick snow”... um... she didn’t? This might’ve been created when Show Yourself wasn’t a thing yet and her path through Ahtohallan was just that, trudging through terrible winds and snow, and not an inspiring song about self-love and finding yourself. I wonder how that scene would’ve looked.

Maybe we can find something relating to that “unused” section of Ahtohallan in a book called “Anna, Elsa and the Secret River”. Basically Iduna tells them that there’s a secret river out there and after the lullaby Elsa and Anna go nuts and try to look for the river outside. Seems like it was all a shared acid trip because next morning they seriously consider it was a dream.

Maybe here they didn’t realize they were in front of a river, because “Glaciers are rivers of ice” and this is what that Ahtohallan Elsa ventured into originally would’ve looked like? The white river doesn’t know...

This is by far one of my favorite ones. I wouldn’t exactly describe post-Show Yourself as a moment of calm and peace. Maybe peace but definitely not calm. Then it says that the signal meant that “she managed to cross the sea”. That’s a really weird way to describe “horrifying ice statue of colonialist grandpa killing an innocent native man”. I don’t know if they’re hiding the actual plot here of if they hadn’t yet worked out all the details of SY and the moment Elsa found the truth.

Anna has her cloak on as she finds the truth. Readers have no idea what this enlightening truth is because the ice statue is indistinguishable.

As it shows here, the original Iduna being Northuldra reveal was going to happen in a different way. I’m glad we got that final version... Because wow, Elsa and Anna are completely unable to connect the dots here. Anna was smart enough to figure out what to do after receiving Elsa’s message, c’mon! This should’ve been piece of cake...

 Iduna called Elsa “Little Snow”. This points to an alternate All is Found scene and we’ll talk about that more in depth later.

Same scene. Translation is: 

“While tucking the little princesses in, Queen Iduna sang them a lullaby about a far-away river called Ahtohallan, which holds all the answers about the past.

“Does Ahtohallan know why I have powers?” asked Elsa her mother.

“If it exists, it definitely knows that and much more,” answered the Queen.

So in this earlier version, Elsa has always asked herself if Ahtohallan had the answer to her powers... Doesn’t this make Show Yourself work even better? Here she always looked for that answer and she’d learn that she is the answer. I wonder why they took it out because it makes a lot of sense and would give buildup to Show Yourself.

Here what really matters are the squares with text. Olaf never ran through moss or became covered in it. Olaf never looks down a brook to be met by Nokk’s gaze from below. Maybe it’s an alternate When I’m Older?

And relating to that particular piece of merch:

Seems like in an earlier version, the Nokk was associated with waterfalls.

Everyone shut up there’s SWORD ANNA here. Found in a coloring book. I don’t speak Italian but Google Translate says: 

“Anna is a brave one: she does not hesitate to draw her sword to defend her sister Elsa and her friends from any new threat.”

GOOD FOR HER! This is definitely from the version we were shown in the teaser, when Anna wielding an actual sword and slicing someone with it was still a thing. Man, how I wanted that to happen...

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Alternate fully animated scenes found in animators’ posts

After the release of Frozen 2, animators started to post scenes they had worked on and showing the process behind them. Some of them were deleted, are different in the final movie, or have a completely different score accompanying them.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Adam Green (@agreenster) on Apr 6, 2020 at 5:31pm PDT

A completely different dialogue during the boat scene. Pretty heartbreaking and it’s even more buildup for TNRT, when Anna was left by literally everyone she loved in the planet.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Trent Correy (@trentanimation) on Apr 14, 2020 at 8:50am PDT

Apparently, for whatever reason, Gale was going to appear in the castle first.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Trent Correy (@trentanimation) on Mar 29, 2020 at 10:51am PDT

Olaf’s revival was going to be way different, and this implies that his death might’ve been different, too. Maybe his snow just dissipated and didn’t go anywhere? Maybe instead of being neatly placed by a waterfall, it fell all over the Enchanted Lands? I have no idea.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Mariusz Furmanczyk (@mariofurmanczyk) on Mar 21, 2020 at 7:11pm PDT

I absolutely LOVE this one, okay, and I have no idea why they’d leave it out. Turn your sound on and listen to the much more tragic alternate score. But more importantly, pay attention when she turns to solid ice: just like in F1 with Anna, her last breath is visible. Beautiful parallels, poetic cinema, and I’m hurt and confused and I want it in the movie. Excuse me while I call the police.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Mariusz Furmanczyk (@mariofurmanczyk) on Feb 26, 2020 at 5:47pm PST

Here the only change is the different score as she unfreezes. I love it so much. It’s so tragic, heavy and powerful. You can basically hear the fragility of Elsa’s fate as the ice breaks and she falls. Help. Here, here, and here, you can see other glimpses of this beautiful alternate score. Once again I’m calling the police and telling them Disney hurt my feelings by leaving this out.

I’ve hit the 5 videos limit already, but here is a link to an animation by jdublish. The change isn’t the scene itself but the completely different siren call Elsa hears. Much more ominous and creepy and I also love it, even though I have to admit the final siren call sounds catchier and more iconic. Also, kids under five won’t start crying of fear when they hear it.

Then there were also plenty of changes in the Elsa vs Nokk scene and we got to see one. Thanks to @justlookatthosesausages for pointing this out and letting me use her gif! The original video was set to private for some reason so I can’t post a Youtube link, but this is @justlookatthosesausages‘ gif:

Elsa struggled way more in the original version. Go to her post to see a comparison with the final version.

And now the awaited All is Found alternate scene! Thanks a lot to @lovewillthaw-j who helped me collect all the scenes. 

First two scenes from the trailers: the Official one, Elsa looks up and Iduna gazes at the northern lights.

The Japanese one, in which Iduna kisses Elsa’s hands. @catloafs pointed that out after F2′s release so thanks!

And the last two were found by @antoineharrakblog, so thanks for that! Here and here.

BUT there’s no need to click a bazillion links because @lovewillthaw-j‘s post reconstructs in a single video what the original scene would’ve been like. Go watch it!

UPDATE: Additions by @antoineharrakblog​. Thanks a lot!

Here we can see that originally, as the elements fled and Kristoff held Olaf, he yelled, “Wow, you’re heavy!”. Don’t know why this would be removed. Maybe they wanted to keep the scene serious? Maybe they needed to shorten the movie so that it didn’t exceed 100 minutes and cut little jokes like that?

 And here, showing Elsa seeing how Iduna saved her father, there’s some deleted dialogue: “Get the prince out of here!” “King Runeard, what did you decide?” in addition to a much more tense score in general.

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UPDATE: Screencaps of deleted/alternate scenes

Thanks a lot to @antoineharrakblog for bringing all of these pictures to my attention! Multiples screencaps have appeared in different magazines or books that clearly didn’t make it to the movie.

Anna never makes that movement in the final movie. There’s more proof of an alternate/extended “Elsa and Anna talk” scene.

This is another one. There exists a lower quality version of this picture which I can’t find right now, but it shows that Anna and Elsa are sharing kransekake in this particular scene (the particular food that we can see at the beginning of OFA).

These are all part of the All is Found scene we’ve been talking about. In the final movie we can see that All is Found serves as a sort of “bridge” between the past and the present, as it transitions from Iduna singing the song to Elsa to Elsa in the castle, reminiscing. But originally, Iduna finished singing All is Found in the past. There’s proof of this here. 

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UPDATE: Novelization deleted content

This information was provided by @theupsidedownpyramid​ so thanks a lot! There are some really interesting deleted scenes in the novelization.

In this one, Elsa felt the urge to release her magic after hearing the voice at the end of All is Found.

In the novelization Mattias and Yelena’s (or Yelana? Disney will never decide) relationship was a lot deeper than what was shown in the movie.

For more information and a more thorough analysis, read @theupsidedownpyramid​‘s reblog!

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Miscellaneous

So there’s only one image in this section but believe me, it’s so worth it. 

An animator casually mentioned that there was going to be a head kiss scene. Process it. Can’t? I can’t either.

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Wow I’m TIRED. I must’ve missed something but that’s all my brain can handle as of now. Thank quarantine for giving me the opportunity to work on this post all day.

Disney committed war crimes when they deleted some of these scenes. I have only one question: Why in the world would they do that? And more information might see the light of day in the future. I’ll never get tired of trying to piece together the convoluted puzzle that is the original Frozen 2.

I will update this post if I remember something else or if someone else has more content to share. Let’s reconstruct F2 together to visualize that movie Disney deemed too cool for us!

UPDATE: Into the Unknown: the Making of Frozen 2 Documentary finally has a concrete release date, June 26th. Let’s hope we can see more stuff then!

[butterflies-dragons]

ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE

Art credit: Kinuko Y. Craft

Eleanor of Aquitaine, also called Eleanor of Guyenne, French Éléonore or Aliénor, d’Aquitaine or de Guyenne, (born c. 1122—died April 1, 1204, Fontevrault, Anjou, France), queen consort of both Louis VII of France (1137–52) and Henry II of England (1152–1204) and mother of Richard I (the Lion-Heart) and John of England. She was perhaps the most powerful woman in 12th-century Europe.

—Britannica

Eleanor of Aquitaine (1122-1204) was one of the most powerful and influential figures of the Middle Ages. Inheriting a vast estate at the age of 15 made her the most sought-after bride of her generation. She would eventually become the queen of France, the queen of England and lead a crusade to the Holy Land. She is also credited with establishing and preserving many of the courtly rituals of chivalry.

—History

This mighty medieval woman outwitted and outlasted her rivals. Ruler of two nations, mother to kings and queens, leader of a crusade: Eleanor of Aquitaine was a savvy power player in medieval France and England.

When reviewing the history of medieval Europe, no woman stands out as much as Eleanor of Aquitaine. Once the most eligible woman in Europe, she became queen of two nations, leader of a crusade, mother of kings, and patron of the arts. Her power and prestige earned her enemies in the 12th century, and her critics authored a black legend founded on gossip and rumor that has fueled ideas about her until the present time.

—National Geographic

Eleanor of Aquitaine [...] she was one of the most kick-ass women of the Middle Ages and, you know, she had her own crusade, or she went on crusade rather and she married two kings and then was the mother of several more, she was a great character.

—GRRM

***

The past April I wrote a very long post about the parallels between Good Queen Alysanne and Sansa Stark.  Consider this post its continuation, so I highly recommend you to read that post first before continuing reading this one. 

As I said before, I discovered that GRRM not only took inspiration from Katharine Hepburn playing Eleanor of Aquitaine in the film ´The Lion in Winter´ for Alysanne’s looks, he also took a lot from Eleanor’s life to write Alysanne, like Eleanor’s second marriage with her cousin Henry II of England with whom she had 8 children (Alysanne/Jaehaerys & their 13 children) and Eleanor’s Court of Love (Alysanne Women’s Courts).

But not only that, I also discovered that Eleanor of Aquitaine shares a lot of similarities with no other than SANSA STARK.

Join me in this new adventure, I assure you, it’s gonna be a blast!

ELEANOR, ALYSANNE AND SANSA

HIGHBORN

Eleanor was born to William X, Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitiers, and Aénor, Viscountess of Châtellerault, around 1122, in what is now southwestern France.  Eleanor was the oldest of the couple’s three children; she had a younger sister, Petronilla, and a younger brother, William Aigret. Various biographers also report that Eleanor had two bastard half-brothers, William and Joscelin. 

Alysanne was born to Aenys Targaryen and Lady Alyssa Velaryon in 36 AC, at King's Landing.  Alysanne was the fifth of the couple’s six children; she had four older siblings, Rhaena, Aegon, Viserys and Jaehaerys, and a younger sister, Vaella.  Alysanne also had two younger highborn half-siblings, Boremund and Jocelyn Baratheon.

Sansa was born to Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Lady Catellyn Tully of Riverrun in 286 AC, at Winterfell.  Sansa was the second of the couple’s five children; she had an older brother, Robb, and three younger siblings, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Sansa also had a bastard half-brother, Jon Snow. 

Take note of how similar these ladies’ half-siblings names are: Joscelin, Jocelyn & Jon.

APPEARANCE

Back in 2006, many years before Fire & Blood, GRRM gave us this description of Good Queen Alysanne Targaryen:

You might consider Alysanne as the Eleanor of Aquitaine of Westeros, and model her on Katharine Hepburn’s portrayal of Eleanor in the film THE LION IN WINTER. Tall and straight, unbowed by time, she had high cheekbones, clear blue eyes. Age left crow’s feet around her eyes and laugh lines about her mouth, but her face never lost its strength. She was a fine archer and hunter in her youth, and loved to fly atop her dragon to all the distant parts of the realm. Alysanne was slim of waist and small of breast, with a long neck, a fair complexion, a high forehead. In old age her hair turned white as snow. She wore it in a bun, pulled back and pinned behind her hear.  [Source] 

There is not a reliable description of Eleanor of Aquitaine true appearance, just various interpretations of her physical features based on old paintings and medieval illuminations that are presumed, by writers and historians, to be of her.  Sometimes she is described and/or depicted as black of ayes and hair, others says she was blonde with blue or grey eyes, and in other cases she had auburn hair with green or grey eyes.  For more details about Eleanor’s appearance, you can read:

Elizabeth Chadwick’s blog entry: “Eleanor of Aquitaine’s Appearance or not”; and,

Michael R. Evans’ book “Inventing Eleanor: The Medieval and Post-Medieval Image of Eleanor of Aquitaine”  

The beautiful art pieces of Eleanor of Aquitaine that I chose to illustrate this post, created by the extraordinaire artist Kinuko Y. Craft, depict a redhead and blue eyed Eleanor. About this choice of the artist, Michael R. Evans tells us this:

Works of fiction are more likely to use modern images of Eleanor, such as Margaret Ball’s ‘Duchess of Aquitaine’, which employs a dynamic painting of Eleanor by the Japanese-American artist Kinuko Y. Craft. The Queen appears on horseback, crowned, with a falcon on her left wrist and long red hair floating behind her. This image matches the modern perception of Eleanor as an active, confident female authority figure. The falcon and the appearance of Eleanor on horseback both recall the Sainte-Radegonde fresco, although Craft states that she was not influenced by it.       

As you can see, we can’t make a true parallel between the physical features of Eleanor, Alysanne and Sansa. But what is a certainty is that GRRM took inspiration from Katharine Hepburn playing Eleanor of Aquitaine in the film ´The Lion in Winter´ for Alysanne’s looks:

So, for the ASOIAF universe created by GRRM:

Eleanor (Katharine Hepburn): Reddish brown hair + blue eyes  

Alysanne: Honey-colored curls + blue eyes

Sansa: Auburn hair + blue eyes

I see a patter here, auburn is by definition a reddish brown color, and if you googled ‘honey colored hair’ you would see a vast variety of reddish brown or reddish blonde hair colors. Enough said.

NAME

Eleanor is said to have been named for her mother Aénor, Viscountess of Châtellerault, and called Aliénor from the Latin ‘Alia Aenor’, which means ‘the other Aénor’. It became Eléanor in the langues d'oïl of northern France and Eleanor in English. 

It’s probable that George played with the Aénor/Aliénor pattern when he created Alysanne’s name, that is very similar to his mother’s name: Alyssa Velaryon. 

There is not this pattern in Sansa and Catelyn, Sansa was probably named after the other one Sansa in the whole ASOIAF universe: Sansa Stark, daughter of Rickon Stark, heir to Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell, and his wife, Jeyne Manderly. She had an older sister, Serena Stark. She married his half uncle Lord Jonnel Stark.  

But the name Alayne it’s a different story. Alayne is certainly closer to Catelyn than Sansa, but most relevant to this post, Alayne is very similar to Alysanne. 

In summary:

Aénor/Aliénor

Alyssa/Alysanne

Catelyn/Alayne (Sansa) + Alysanne/Alayne (Sansa)

EDUCATION

Look at these reports about Eleanor’s education:

Their ducal court had a fine reputation as a patron of the arts. Eleanor’s grandfather, William IX, was known as the “troubadour duke,” famous for his poetry and songs about heroism and courtly love. Poets of the time, especially the famous Marcabru, found hospitality at the court of Aquitaine.

Culture and learning were a family tradition for Eleanor, who received the best possible education of the time. She was taught mathematics, astronomy, history, literature, Latin, and music. She also learned arts and crafts: embroidery, needlepoint, sewing, and spinning. Like any daughter of nobility, she danced and sang, as well as rode horses and went hunting. Like many noble daughters, Eleanor would have been raised to be a nobleman’s wife and was probably not expected to play any role in governing.  

—National Geographic

By all accounts, Eleanor's father ensured that she had the best possible education. Eleanor came to learn arithmetic, the constellations, and history. She also learned domestic skills such as household management and the needle arts of embroidery, needlepoint, sewing, spinning, and weaving. Eleanor developed skills in conversation, dancing, games such as backgammon, checkers, and chess, playing the harp, and singing. Although her native tongue was Poitevin, she was taught to read and speak Latin, was well versed in music and literature, and schooled in riding, hawking, and hunting. 

—Wikipedia

She was well educated by her cultured father, William X, Duke of Aquitaine, thoroughly versed in literature, philosophy, and languages and trained to the rigors of court life when she became her father’s heir presumptive at the age 5. An avid horsewoman, she led an active life until she inherited her father’s title and extensive lands upon his death when she was 15. 

—History

Sounds familiar?

No man ever questioned her wits. Later, it would be said of her that she learned to read before she was weaned, and the court fool would make japes about little Alysanne dribbling mother’s milk on Valyrian scrolls as she tried to read whilst suckling at her wet nurse’s teat. Had she been a boy she would surely have been sent to the Citadel to forge a maester’s chain. —Fire & Blood

It is written that the young king and queen were seldom apart during that time, sharing every meal, talking late into the night of the green days of their childhood and the challenges ahead, fishing and hawking together, mingling with the island's smallfolk in dockside inns, reading to one another from dusty leatherbound tomes they found in the castle library, taking lessons together from Dragonstone's maesters (“for we still have much to learn,” Alysanne is said to have reminded her husband). —Fire & Blood

“If I had not become a queen, I might have liked to be a teacher,” she told the Conclave. “I read, I write, I think, I am not afraid of ravens… or a bit of blood. There are other highborn girls who feel the same. Why not admit them to your Citadel? —Fire & Blood 

For three days she lost herself in the Citadel’s great library, emerging only to attend lectures on the Valyrian dragon wars, leechcraft, and the gods of the Summer Isles. —Fire & Blood

Once the initial frost had thawed, his lordship took the queen hunting after elk and wild boar in the wolfswood, showed her the bones of a giant, and allowed her to rummage as she pleased through his modest castle library. —Fire & Blood

And here is Sansa:

Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. […] It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. Sansa had never had much of a head for figures. If she did marry Prince Joff, Arya hoped for his sake that he had a good steward. —AGOT  - Arya I

Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. She loved nothing so well as tales of knightly valor. —A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

Sansa Stark, he mused. Soft-spoken sweet-smelling Sansa, who loved silks, songs, chivalry and tall gallant knights with handsome faces. —A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III

So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Arya only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words.—A Storm of Swords - Arya IV

The queen took Sansa’s hand in both of hers. “Child, do you know your letters Sansa nodded nervously. She could read and write better than any of her brothers, although she was hopeless at sums. —AGOT - Sansa IV

She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother’s queen. —AGOT - Sansa IV

“Do you read well, Alayne?” “Septa Mordane was good enough to say so.” —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

No one ransomed the northmen, though. One fat lordling haunted the kitchens [...] and the clasp that held his cloak was a silver-and-sapphire trident. He belonged to Lord Tywin, but the fierce, bearded young man [...] in a black cloak patterned with white suns had been taken by some hedge knight who meant to get rich off him. Sansa would have known who he was, and the fat one too, but Arya had never taken much interest in titles and sigils. Whenever Septa Mordane had gone on about the history of this house and that house, she was inclined to drift and dream and wonder when the lesson would be done. —A Clash of Kings - Arya VII

Later, while Sansa was off listening to a troupe of singers perform the complex round of interwoven ballads called the “Dance of the Dragons,” [sung in High Valyrian] Ned inspected the bruise himself. “I hope Forel is not being too hard on you,” he said. —AGOT - Eddard VII

Do you hawk, Sansa?" "A little," she admitted. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

The day before last she'd taken Sansa hawking. [...] Sansa's merlin brought down three ducks while Margaery's peregrine took a heron in full flight. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

Sansa can ride despite not enjoying the physical exertion of the activity.

Despite it is said that Sansa is bad with numbers and can’t manage a household, Alayne Stone is doing pretty well as de facto Lady of the Eyrie.

As final note on this section, Eleanor’s grandfather Willian IX being called “the troubadour duke” reminds me of Bael the Bard, being kin with the Starks. The Aquitaine court sounds as magical and cultured as what Sansa once thought the Red Keep court would be, full of musicians and poets and courtly love.  

HEIRESS 

Eleanor inherited the largest and richest lands of France at a very young age:

Eleanor’s four-year-old brother William Aigret and their mother died at the castle of Talmont on Aquitaine's Atlantic coast in the spring of 1130. Eleanor became the heir presumptive to her father's domains. The Duchy of Aquitaine was the largest and richest province of France. Poitou, where Eleanor spent most of her childhood, and Aquitaine together was almost one-third the size of modern France. (...)

Eleanor, aged 12 to 15, then became the duchess of Aquitaine, and thus the most eligible heiress in Europe. (...)

The death of William, one of the king's most powerful vassals, made available the most desirable duchy in France. While presenting a solemn and dignified face to the grieving Aquitainian messengers, Louis exulted when they departed. Rather than act as guardian to the duchess and duchy, he decided to marry the duchess to his 17-year-old heir and bring Aquitaine under the control of the French crown, thereby greatly increasing the power and prominence of France and its ruling family, the House of Capet. Within hours, the king had arranged for his son Louis to be married to Eleanor. 

—Wikipedia

Eleanor was the daughter and heiress of William X, duke of Aquitaine and count of Poitiers, who possessed one of the largest domains in France—larger, in fact, than those held by the French king. Upon William’s death in 1137 she inherited the duchy of Aquitaine. [Source]

Eleanor inherited her father’s title and extensive lands upon his death when she was 15, becoming in one stroke duchess of Aquitaine and by far the most eligible single young woman in Europe. She was placed under the guardianship of the king of France, and within hours was betrothed to his son and heir, Louis. The king sent an escort of 500 men to convey the news to Eleanor and transport her to her new home. 

—Britannica

Eleanor inherited her father’s title and extensive lands upon his death when she was 15, becoming in one stroke duchess of Aquitaine and by far the most eligible single young woman in Europe. She was placed under the guardianship of the king of France, and within hours was betrothed to his son and heir, Louis. The king sent an escort of 500 men to convey the news to Eleanor and transport her to her new home. 

—History

William X [Eleanor’s father] controlled many territories in west and central France including Aquitaine, Poitiers, Gascony, Limousin, and Auvergne. (...)

During the 12th century, monarchies were gaining power and expanding across Europe as alliances formed and linked them together. Powerful aristocracies that fell within their kingdoms still held great influence and needed to be respected. In France the Capetian dynasty ruled a slice of north-central France, the so-called Île-de-France, between the Seine and the Loire. The royal house of France, the Capets, when Eleanor was born, was led by King Louis VI (also known as Louis the Fat).

Much of what is now France was divided up into powerful dukedoms—Normandy, Brittany, and Aquitaine—and large counties—Flanders, Anjou, Lorraine, Champagne, Bourgogne, and Toulouse, some of which were larger and richer than the possessions of the Capetian dynasty. Of the dukedoms, the duchy of Aquitaine was one of the largest, wealthiest, and most influential.

To complicate matters, in 1066 William, Duke of Normandy (also known as William the Conqueror), became king of England. While William was technically a vassal of France on the French side of the English channel, when he was on the other side, he was king of England—the French king’s equal in rank. Who controlled the lands of England and France would lead to many bloody conflicts over the coming centuries as different houses vied for control.

Eleanor played a vital role in these power struggles. Her destiny took a radical turn when her younger brother died in 1130, leaving her the new heiress to her father’s dominions. When her father died unexpectedly in April 1137, while on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, Eleanor was thrust into the world of medieval politics in her early teens. 

Shortly before his death, Eleanor’s father had dictated his will and officially named Eleanor as his heir. He appointed King Louis VI as her guardian, and the Capetian king shrewdly saw a way to bring the lands of Aquitaine under his control. He quickly announced the betrothal of Duchess Eleanor to his 17-year-old son, the future Louis VII.

—National Geographic

We can hardly draw a parallel between Eleanor and Alysanne in this regard. Alysanne was never the heir of her father. Alysanne became Queen consort of Westeros due to her marriage with her older brother Jaehaerys.  But this is certainly a strong parallel between Eleanor and Sansa. 

Sansa Stark, despite the many discussions about the legitimacy of her claim to the North and the secret will of Robb Stark, is considered the heir of the ancestral lands and domains of House Stark, she is called ‘the key to the north’ by Tywin Lannister, the man behind his royals grandsons, King Joffrey and King Tommen Baratheon.  The North is the largest region of Westeros, and Sansa Stark’s claim to Winterfell and the Wardenship of the North is coveted by many lords in order to gain political power and influence.  

If Eleanor of Aquitaine was the most eligible single young heiress in Europe, we can say the same about Sansa Stark in Westeros.  The same way Eleanor played a vital role in Middle Ages European power struggles, Sansa Stark plays a vital role in the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros power struggles.  If Eleanor was thrust into the world of medieval politics in her early teens, the same is happening to Sansa Starks in the ASOIAF Books.

As I wrote in an unpublished meta:

It is also very interesting that while Sansa is in the south, we witnessed her objectification numerous times, by every character she interacted with. She’s not only being valued in golden dragons, she has been practically transformed into a stone castle, Winterfell, and the North itself, since the one controlling her would obtain all her lands and power. Or, to use the euphemism used in the Books, she is “the key to the north.”

Sansa reflects about this particular objectification in ASOS and elaborates inside her mind one of the saddest lines in ASOIAF, especially for a girl who yearns to be loved and always dreamed of getting married: “No one will ever marry me for love” (because everyone only wants her claim to Winterfell).

I think Sansa Stark being the most eligible single young heiress in Westeros has been explained in the Books twice already, during the development of Sansa’s arc, and in a more subtle and romantic way in “The Hedge Knight” tale.  

As I explain in yet another unpublished meta of mine about the Ashford Tourney:

(…) I think the repetition of this pattern in the list of men [Ashford Tourney Champions / Sansa’s Suitors] is accentuating the importance of Sansa and her claim to the North in the political scene of Westeros. After all, all of Sansa’s betrothals were arranged to gain political power through her claim to the North, which is the largest region of Westeros. 

Tyrion Lannister, married Sansa following his father’s orders to take control over the North: "The girl's happiness is not my purpose, nor should it be yours. Our alliances in the south may be as solid as Casterly Rock, but there remains the north to win, and the key to the north is Sansa Stark." (…) “When you bring Eddard Stark's grandson home to claim his birthright, lords and little folk alike will rise as one to place him on the high seat of his ancestors. You are capable of getting a woman with child, I hope?"

Joffrey Baratheon, when King Robert proposed Joffrey and Sansa’s betrothal, he was trying to reenact his own betrothal to Lyanna Stark, that was part of the so called Southron Ambitions Theory.

Willas Tyrell, his grandmother Olenna Tyrell secretly arranged his betrothal with Sansa in order to expand their power over another great region of Westeros: “Jonquil, Jonquil, open your sweet eyes, these Tyrells care nothing for you. It’s your claim they mean to wed.” The Lannisters discovered this secret betrothal (thanks to Dontos and Littlefinger) and Sansa ended up married to Tyrion and Cersei betrothed to Willas.

Harrold Hardyng, when Petyr Baelish proposed Harry and Alayne/Sansa betrothal, he was trying to gain more political power to further his own agenda. “When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon... and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back... why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa... Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell”.

See? Tywin Lannister and Petyr Baelish, and even Olenna Tyrell, were acting exactly like Eleanor’s guardian, King Louis VI of France, betrothing her with his son and heir, the future Louis VII, as a way to bring the lands of Aquitaine under his control.

FIRST MARRIAGE

Eleanor became Queen consort of France due to her first marriage to his cousin Louis VII.  This marriage lasted 15 years and only produced two daughters:    

Louis and Eleanor were married in July 1137, but had little time to get to know one another before Louis’ father the king fell ill and died. Within weeks of her wedding, Eleanor found herself taking possession of the drafty and unwelcoming Cîté Palace in Paris that would be her new home. On Christmas Day of the same year, Louis and Eleanor were crowned king and queen of France. 

—History

The wedding was celebrated in Bordeaux on July 25, 1137. Seven days later, Louis the Fat was dead, leaving the teenagers Louis and Eleanor to rule as king and queen. The two were coronated at Bourges Cathedral later that year on Christmas Day. Despite the marriage, the lands of Eleanor’s family would not come under the control of the Capetian dynasty. According to the terms of her father’s will, Queen Eleanor first had to give birth to a son, who then had to reach the age of majority and become the new duke of Aquitaine before the lands would officially pass to Louis’s family. (…)

The marriage was not a fruitful one. The couple did not have many children. Eleanor only gave birth to two daughters: Marie, countess of Champagne, in 1145, and Alice (or Alix), countess of Blois, around 1150. By most accounts, the marriage’s failure to produce a male heir led to greater tensions between husband and wife. 

—National Geographic

The marriage was not a bed of roses:

Louis and Eleanor’s first years as rulers were fraught with power struggles with their own vassals – the powerful Count Theobald of Champagne for one – and with the Pope in Rome. Louis, still young and intemperate, made a series of military and diplomatic blunders that set him at odds with the Pope and several of his more powerful lords. The conflict that ensued culminated in the massacre of hundreds of innocents in the town of Vitry — during a siege of the town, a great number of the populace took refuge in a church, which was set aflame by Louis’s troops. Dogged by guilt over his role in the tragedy for years, Louis responded eagerly to the Pope’s call for a crusade in 1145. Eleanor joined him on the dangerous – and ill fated – journey west. The crusade did not go well, and Eleanor and Louis grew increasingly estranged. 

—History

In 1142 Petronilla, Eleanor’s sister, fell in love with the married count of Vermandois, who was married to Eleanor of Champagne, daughter of a powerful French family. The count set aside his wife and married Petronilla. Critics saw Eleanor’s hand in the affair, which may have been a love match, but could have served a strategic purpose of strengthening the bonds between the Capetian crown and the House of Aquitaine.

Petronilla’s marriage led to a war between Louis and the count of Champagne in 1142. In 1143 Louis ordered the burning of the small town of Vitry-en-Perthois, killing as many as 1,500 people. The church condemned the actions of the French crown, which caused the pious Louis deep shame. He vowed to mount a crusade to atone for it. (…)

A series of disastrous military decisions resulted in the failure of the Second Crusade. In 1149 Louis and Eleanor boarded ships to sail back to France in defeat. For Louis VII, the Crusade was a twofold disaster: He had been away from his kingdom for two years, involved in expensive military campaigns the results of which were humiliating, and his marriage had completely broken down.

—National Geographic

As you can see Eleanor’s first marriage was not a successful one, it produce not male heir and it was full of political and religious conflicts.  All of that resulted in Eleanor’s decision to seek an annulment.     Alysanne only married one man, her older brother Jaehaerys, but she married him twice.  The first time Alysanne and Jaehaerys eloped to Dragonstone and the marriage remained unconsummated.  That period was the happiest time of her romantic relationship with her husband; she called that time, and Idyll:

“Queen Alysanne, for her part, was in no haste to return to court. “Here I have you to myself, day and night,” she told Jaehaerys. “When we go back, I shall be fortunate to snatch an hour with you, for every man in Westeros will want a piece of you.” For her, these days on Dragonstone were an idyll. “Many years from now when we are old and grey, we shall look back upon these days and smile, remembering how happy we were.” 

—Fire & Blood

The period after their second wedding and coronation as King and Queen of Westeros were not as happy as their days at Dragonstone.  

Alysanne’s older siblings, Aegon and Rhaena, incestuous marriage originated several problems and conflicts with the Faith of the Seven and their more fervent followers, because the Faith condemned the Targaryen’s brother and sister incest customs.  That’s why Alysanne and Jaehareys’ mother, Queen Alyssa, originally planned other betrothals for them.  But Alysanne and Jaehaerys eloped and kept their first wedding in secret until Jaehaerys came of age and they were crowned as King and Queen of Westeros.  Later the Doctrine of Exceptionalism was invented as justification of the Targaryen’s incest customs.  Jaehaerys and Alysanne kept the Great Septon and the Faith’s followers in line thanks to a huge propaganda campaign and their dragons.      

Sansa Stark first marriage involved no love between bride and groom. Sansa was forced to marry Tyrion Lannister as a way to give her new husbands’s family, control and power over the North.  The marriage was unconsummated and of course produced no male heir or any children, the bride ran away, and Tyrion Lannister was accused of regicide, ruining Tywin Lannister original plans for northern domination.

Sansa’s first marriage caused no problems with the Faith of the Seven, but she is in need of the High Septon’s help to gain the annulment of her marriage with Tyrion Lannister.  

MARRIAGE ANNULMENT

Eleanor requested the annulment of her first marriage with her cousin Louis VII of France more than once:

After several fraught years during which Eleanor sought an annulment and Louis faced increasing public criticism, they were eventually granted an annulment on the grounds of consanguinity (being related by blood) in 1152 and separated, their two daughters left in the custody of the king.

—History

From 1147 to 1149 Eleanor accompanied Louis on the Second Crusade to protect the fragile Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, founded after the First Crusade only 50 years before, from Turkish assault. Eleanor’s conduct during this expedition, especially at the court of her uncle Raymond of Poitiers at Antioch, aroused Louis’s jealousy and marked the beginning of their estrangement. After their return to France and a short-lived reconciliation, their marriage was annulled in March 1152.

According to feudal customs, Eleanor then regained possession of Aquitaine. 

—Britannica

After the couple returned to Europe, they met with Pope Eugene III who tried to reconcile them—even threatening excommunication. It was no use, the union was doomed: On March 21, 1152, a group of bishops at Beaugency declared Eleanor’s marriage void for reasons of consanguinity. In line with tradition, the daughters remained with their father, and Eleanor retained her duchy in Aquitaine. 

—National Geographic 

On 21 March, the four archbishops, with the approval of Pope Eugene, granted an annulment on grounds of consanguinity within the fourth degree; Eleanor was Louis' third cousin once removed, and shared common ancestry with Robert II of France. Their two daughters were, however, declared legitimate. […] Custody of them was awarded to King Louis. Archbishop Samson received assurances from Louis that Eleanor's lands would be restored to her.  

—Wikipedia

Alysanne never pursued the annulment of her marriage, but she had a lot of tensions and problems with her husband King Jaehaerys, especially because their different views on matters of succession and the sexist and severe treatment that Jaehaerys gave to her daughters.

Sansa Stark is in need of a marriage annulment.  The fact that Eleanor obtained the annulment of her first marriage gives me hope that Sansa will get an annulment for herself and then marry another cousin of hers, willingly this time.  

Sansa won’t be able to plead consanguinity, as Eleanor did, as a ground for her marriage annulment, but she can allege the no consummation of her first marriage with Tyrion Lannister as the ground for the termination of that forced marriage.

GRRM has discussed with a fan the possibilities for Sansa’s first marriage annulment here.

INCEST

Eleanor married two of her cousins: King Louis VII of France and King Henry II of England.  She obtained the annulment of her first marriage with King Louis VII of France on the grounds of consanguinity.  Ironically enough, Eleanor was more closely related to her second husband, Henry Plantagenet, Count of Anjou and Duke of Normandy, future Henry II of England, than she had been to her first husband Louis VII of France. Rumours of sexual affairs with two uncles surrounded Eleanor, first with Raymond of Poitiers, Prince of Antioch, and brother of Eleanor’s father; and later with Geoffrey Plantagenet, Count of Anjou, and father of Eleanor’s second husband.

Alysanne married her older brother Jaehaerys Targaryen.  When Alysanne was pregnant for the first time, she suffered an attempt of murder at Maidenpool, perpetuated by three women, followers of the Faith of the Seven that reject incest:

“Doctrine of Exceptionalism had won over most of the pious in the realm, but not all. Some of the women who tended Jonquil's Pool believed that the pool's sacred waters would become polluted if the queen, pregnant with the king's "abomination", were to enter the waters. While she was inside, Alysanne was attacked by three of these women with daggers.” 

[Source]

Sansa Stark was not directly involved with incest.  As it was mentioned before, the first Sansa Stark married her half uncle Lord Jonnel Stark.  Sansa’s paternal grandparents were cousins: Lord Rickard and Lady Lyarra Stark.  

Sansa also have two cousins, Robert Arryn and Jon Snow, which are subtly and not so subtly linked with her with romantic undertones:

Robert Arryn was named after Robert Baratheon and Jon Snow is the secret son of Rhaegar Targaryen.  Robert and Rhaegar fought to death for the love of a Stark girl, Lyanna, the mother of Jon.

Robert Arryn and Jon Snow are surrounded by bird imagery. Robert with Falcons (Arryn sigil) and Robins (Sweetrobin), also with Winged Knights; and Jon with Crows (Night’s Watch/Black Knights) and dragons (winged creatures).

Robert Arryn idolizes Artys Arryn, The Falconknight (usually mixed with the Winged Knight); and Jon Snow idolizes Aemon Targaryen, The Dragonknight.

Sansa thinks about Jon in the Wall and recalled that in the songs the men of the Night’s Watch are called the Black Knights of the Wall.

Alayne is organizing a Tourney to elect the members of Robert Arryn personal guard, named the Brotherhood of the Winged Knights.  

Robert Arryn and Jon Snow are surrounded by weirwood imagery.  Robert and his weirwood throne and Jon with the Old Gods (literally weirwoods) and Ghost (weirwood’s coloring).

Robert Arryn and Jon Snow are the last males of their respective paternal houses. And both of them will face blonde threats to their claims.

Lysa Arryn intended to betroth Sansa with her son Robert Arryn.

Robert Arryn is infatuated with Alayne Stone (Sansa Stark in disguise) and constantly expressed his desire to marry her.  Alayne rejects him every time alleging her bastard status.

Sansa modeled her bastard persona on her bastard half-brother (cousin) Jon Snow. And she is acting as a foster mother for her cousin Robert Arryn.

Sansa’s first crush was a young knight of the Vale of Arryn, Waymar Royce, whose physical features are pretty similar to Jon Snow’s (grey eyes, brown hair, slender bodies, also both Brothers of the Night’s Watch).

The Pact of Ice and Fire could be fulfilled with the marriage of two cousins with Stark Blood. Like Jon and Sansa.

The original outline planned a romance between two cousins with Stark Blood. Like Jon and Sansa (Originally Arya, discarded by GRRM at Balticon 2016).

SECOND MARRIAGE

Eleanor became Queen consort of England due to her second marriage to his cousin Henry Plantagenet, Count of Anjou and Duke of Normandy.

This marriage with the future Henry II of England was way more fruitful than Eleanor’s first marriage.  The couple had 8 children, five sons and three daughters.

As Eleanor travelled to Poitiers, two lords —Theobald V, Count of Blois, and Geoffrey, Count of Nantes, brother of Henry II, Duke of Normandy —tried to kidnap and marry her to claim her lands. As soon as she arrived in Poitiers, Eleanor sent envoys to Henry, Duke of Normandy and future king of England, asking him to come at once to marry her. On 18 May 1152 (Whit Sunday), eight weeks after her annulment, Eleanor married Henry "without the pomp and ceremony that befitted their rank."

Eleanor was related to Henry even more closely than she had been to Louis: they were cousins to the third degree through their common ancestor Ermengarde of Anjou, wife of Robert I, Duke of Burgundy and Geoffrey, Count of Gâtinais, and they were also descended from King Robert II of France. A marriage between Henry and Eleanor's daughter Marie had earlier been declared impossible due to their status as third cousins once removed. 

—Wikipedia

Duchess Eleanor was only 28, and it did not take long for suitors to begin to pursue her—for her lands and her mind. Theobald V of Blois, six years Eleanor’s junior, tried to kidnap her (he would later marry her daughter, Alice). Eleanor had her eye on a different suitor. From her court at Poitiers, she sent for him in secret. His name was Henry Plantagenet, Duke of Normandy and Count of Anjou. (…)

Less than three months after her divorce from Louis, Eleanor married Henry Plantagenet, nine years her junior, on May 18, 1152. Genealogy shows that the pair were more closely related than Eleanor and Louis, but that did not stand in the way of the union. Henry and Eleanor were masters of Normandy, Anjou, Maine, Touraine, and the Aquitaine, and serious rivals to Louis.  

In 1153 Henry crossed the English Channel and was able to secure his position on the throne from the sitting king of England. By the time he and Eleanor were coronated in December 1154, she had already given birth to their first son, William, in August 1153—and was pregnant with their second child. In one bold stroke, the lands of Normandy, Aquitaine, Anjou, and other important French territories came under the control of the English king and queen. Eleanor’s children, as well as her lands, gave her much security. 

—National Geographic

Within two months of her annulment, after fighting off attempts to marry her off to various other high-ranking French noblemen, Eleanor married Henry, Count of Anjou and Duke of Normandy. She had been rumored to have had an affair with her new husband’s father, and was more closely related to her new husband than she had been to Louis, but the marriage went ahead and within two years Henry and Eleanor were crowned king and queen of England after Henry’s accession to the English throne upon the death of King Stephen.

Eleanor’s marriage to Henry was more successful than her first, although not lacking in drama and discord. Henry and Eleanor argued often, but they produced eight children together between 1152 and 1166. The extent of Eleanor’s role in Henry’s rule is largely unknown, although it seems unlikely that a woman of her reputed energy and education would have been wholly without influence. Nonetheless, she does not emerge again into a publicly active role until separating from Henry in 1167 and moving her household to her own lands in Poitiers. While the reasons for the breakdown of her marriage to Henry remain unclear, it can likely be traced to Henry’s increasingly visible infidelities. 

—History

Two months later she married the grandson of Henry I of England, Henry Plantagenet, Count of Anjou and Duke of Normandy. In 1154 he became, as Henry II, king of England, with the result that England, Normandy, and the west of France were united under his rule. Eleanor had only two daughters by Louis VII, but to her new husband she bore five sons and three daughters. The sons were William, who died at the age of three; Henry; Richard, the Lion-Heart; Geoffrey, duke of Brittany; and John, surnamed Lackland until, having outlived all his brothers, he inherited, in 1199, the crown of England. The daughters were Matilda, who married Henry the Lion, duke of Saxony and Bavaria; Eleanor, who married Alfonso VIII, king of Castile; and Joan, who married successively William II, king of Sicily, and Raymond VI, count of Toulouse. Eleanor would well have deserved to be named the “grandmother of Europe.”  

—Britannica

Take note that even as a “divorced” woman, Eleanor still was the most eligible heiress in Europe, and suffered various attempts to kidnap as a way to marry her.  This kidnap/marriage attempts against Eleanor reminds me of the Wildling beyond the Wall marriage customs.  

The period that started with Alysanne’s second wedding to her older brother Jaehaerys was very similar to Eleanor’s second marriage with Henry II of England:

Henry was in conflict with his uncle Stephen of Blois for the Throne of England.  Jaehaerys was in conflict with his uncle Maegor I for the Iron Throne.  

Henry and Eleanor had 8 children. Jaehaerys and Alysanne had 13 children.

Henry often traveled to different parts of his realm, and while he was away, Eleanor assumed the role of regent and other political duties.  Alysanne’s relationship with Jaehaerys was always very close. She was his most trusted counselor and his right hand: Alysanne remained in the Red Keep, presiding over council meetings in the king’s absence, and holding audience from a velvet seat at the base of the Iron Throne. —Fire & Blood

Eleanor outlived most of her children.  Alysanne outlived most of her children.

Eleanor arranged marriages for her children and grandchildren.  Alysanne arranged marriages for her children, especially her daughters.

Henry was an unfaithful husband. Jaehaerys was not unfaithful but he was very sexist and constantly wronged her daughters, granddaughter and children from his granddaughter in favor of his male children and grandchildren.  

Henry and Eleanor got estranged with time and lived separated for long periods after their quarrels. Jaehareys and Alysanne got estranged with the time and lived separated for long periods after their quarrels.

Eleanor supported her sons’ rebellions against her husband Henry II, and got imprisoned for it.  She would remain a prisoner until Henry II’s death in 1189. Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s quarrels happened mostly because their different views on matters of succession and the sexist and severe treatment that Jaehaerys gave to her daughters.

Eleanor died around age 80; she outlived Henry.  Alysanne died at 64, leaving Jaehaerys a widower.

Sansa Stark has not married a second time yet.  She is betrothed, as Alayne Stone, to Harrold Hardyng, often called Harry the Heir, cousin and heir presumptive of Lord Robert Arryn and would ascend to rule of the Vale as "Harrold Arryn" should Lord Robert die without issue.

Sansa Stark is not a mother yet neither.  But GRRM has planted seeds about her fertility and future motherhood, as I earlier speculated in this post. There I talked about Alayne’s location: “The Vale of Arryn was famously fertile and had gone untouched during the fighting”;  and Sansa being a half-Tully girl. Tully members are famously fertile; Cat, Lysa and Edmure manage to conceive at the first attempt with Ned, Petyr and Roslin.

CONTRIBUTIONS

Some of Eleanor’s greatest contributions were:

Eleanor of Aquitaine is said to be responsible for the introduction of built-in fireplaces, first used when she renovated the palace of her first husband Louis in Paris. Shocked by the frigid north after her upbringing in southern France, Eleanor’s innovation spread quickly, transforming the domestic arrangements of the time. 

—Britannica

While in the eastern Mediterranean, Eleanor learned about maritime conventions developing there, which were the beginnings of what would become admiralty law. She introduced those conventions in her own lands on the island of Oléron in 1160 (with the "Rolls of Oléron") and later in England as well. She was also instrumental in developing trade agreements with Constantinople and ports of trade in the Holy Lands.

—Wikipedia

Eleanor was also an excellent diplomat envoy and a magnificent patron of arts, as it will be explained later.

Some of Alysanne’s contributions to the politics and the welfare of the people of Westeros were:  

She helped Jaehaerys to create Westeros’ first unified code of laws.

Alysanne procured clean water for the people of Kingslanding: Queen Alysanne served each of them a tankard of river water at the next council meeting, and dared them to drink of it. The water went undrunk, but the wells and pipes were soon approved. Construction would require more than a dozen years, but in the end “the queen’s fountains” provided clean water for Kingslanders for many generations to come. —Fire & BloodQueen

Alysanne proposed a “New Gift” for the Night’s Watch: The notion did not please Lord Alaric; though a strong friend to the Night’s Watch, he knew that the lords who presently held the lands in question would object to them being given away without their leave. “I have no doubt that you can persuade them, Lord Alaric,” the queen said. And finally, charmed by her as ever, Alaric Stark agreed that, aye, he could. And so it came to pass that the size of the Gift was doubled with a stroke. —Fire & Blood

Alysanne aprocured the promulgation of the Widow’s Law: To rectify these ills, King Jaehaerys in 52 AC promulgated the Widow’s Law, reaffirming the right of the eldest son (or eldest daughter, where there was no son) to inherit, but requiring said heirs to maintain surviving widows in the same condition they had enjoyed before their husband’s death. A lord’s widow, be she a second, third, or later wife, could no longer be driven from his castle, nor deprived of her servants, clothing, and income. The same law, however, also forbade men from disinheriting their children by a first wife in order to bestow their lands, seat, or property upon a later wife or her own children. —Fire & Blood

Alysanne also procured the abolition of the lord’s ancient right to the first night: And so it came to pass that the second of what the smallfolk named Queen Alysanne’s Laws was enacted: the abolition of the lord’s ancient right to the first night. Henceforth, it was decreed, a bride’s maidenhead would belong only to her husband, whether joined before a septon or a heart tree, and any man, be he lord or peasant, who took her on her wedding night or any other night would be guilty of the crime of rape. —Fire & Blood

Sansa is not in a Queen position yet, but the possibilities for her ending the books as a monarch are big. We have books evidence and foreshadowing here and here. We also have the Sansa’s TV adaptation endgame as Queen in the North to support this hypothesis, and GRRM counting Sansa as a major character and also saying the endgame for the major characters would be the same in the Books.

Sansa was already betrothed with the heir to the Iron Throne once, but Joffrey Baratheon was a bastard disguised as a prince; so every time I remember that GRRM wrote a passage when someone called the Red Comet a sign of glory for Sansa’s betrothed, the dragon’s heir, I can’t stop thinking about Sansa being betrothed to the true dragon’s heir, and that that person is a prince disguised as a bastard.    

But let’s talk about how good Sansa could be as a Queen.  Tyrion Lannister, always praised by GRRM himself for his wits, has something to tell us about the matter:  

Tyrion led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies. She is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he’d left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel’s hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he’d had the sense to love her. He wondered if his nephew was capable of loving anyone.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

Despite the popular belief, Sansa Stark actually thinks about the welfare of the smallfolk:

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother’s eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag. The coin bounced off the child and rolled away, under the legs of the gold cloaks and into the crowd, where a dozen men began to fight for it. The mother never once blinked. Her skinny arms were trembling from the dead weight of her son. (…)

From both sides of the street, the crowd surged against the spear shafts while the gold cloaks struggled to hold the line. Stones and dung and fouler things whistled overhead. “Feed us!” a woman shrieked. “Bread!” boomed a man behind her. “We want bread, bastard!” (…)

Tyrion called to her. “Are you hurt, Lady Sansa?” Blood was trickling down Sansa’s brow from a deep gash on her scalp. “They … they were throwing things … rocks and filth, eggs … I tried to tell them, I had no bread to give them”. 

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion IX

In the Show they translated this Sansa’s line of dialogue to this one: “I would have given them bread if I had it.”  

But I think the most telling evidence of how good Sansa could be as a queen is this one:

“The night’s first traitors,” the queen said, “but not the last, I fear. Have Ser Ilyn see to them, and put their heads on pikes outside the stables as a warning.” As they left, she turned to Sansa. “Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you’ll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.”

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VI

This is a stark contrast (pun intended) between ruling by fear and violence and ruling by kindness and protection.  And we all know that Sansa’s true nature will lead her to choose love over fear.  

WIDOWHOOD, REGENCY AND DEATH

When Eleanor became a widow, she not only regained her freedom after 16 years of imprisonment, she also got independency and power over England. She acted as regent in the absent of her son, King Richard I, she also acted as diplomat envoy for England and remained a huge influence in the political scene of Europe:

Upon the death of her husband Henry II on 6 July 1189, Richard I was the undisputed heir. One of his first acts as king was to send William Marshal to England with orders to release Eleanor from prison; he found upon his arrival that her custodians had already released her. Eleanor rode to Westminster and received the oaths of fealty from many lords and prelates on behalf of the king. She ruled England in Richard's name, signing herself "Eleanor, by the grace of God, Queen of England." On 13 August 1189, Richard sailed from Barfleur to Portsmouth and was received with enthusiasm. Between 1190 and 1194, Richard was absent from England, engaged in the Third Crusade from 1190 to 1192 and then held in captivity by Henry VI, Holy Roman Emperor. During Richard's absence, royal authority in England was represented by a Council of Regency in conjunction with a succession of chief justiciars – William de Longchamp (1190–1191), Walter de Coutances (1191–1193), and finally Hubert Walter. Although Eleanor held no formal office in England during this period, she arrived in England in the company of Coutances in June 1191, and for the remainder of Richard's absence, she exercised a considerable degree of influence over the affairs of England as well as the conduct of Prince John. Eleanor played a key role in raising the ransom demanded from England by Henry VI and in the negotiations with the Holy Roman Emperor that eventually secured Richard's release.  

—Wikipedia

After Henry’s death in July 1189, Richard the Lion-Hearted became king, and Eleanor gained her complete freedom. Her son restored her lands that had been seized after the 1173 rebellion. Richard appointed her to a government position, and Eleanor traveled the English countryside securing loyalty oaths to her son and his kingdom.

Even in her late 60s, Eleanor continued to follow and often direct the political events of her lands. In 1191 she arranged a marriage for Richard to Berengaria of Navarre. While Richard was crusading in the Holy Land, Eleanor wielded influence over the men ruling in Richard’s absence, including his younger brother, Prince John. Moreover, accused of having ordered the murder of Conrad of Montferrat in the Holy Land, Richard was imprisoned by Holy Roman Emperor Henry VI. Eleanor turned to the pope, Celestine III, to help arrange her son’s release and also secured funds for his ransom.

In her 70s, Eleanor sought to strengthen the bonds between the Plantagenets and the Capets. In 1200 she traveled to the Pyrenees to escort her granddaughter Blanche to marry the son of the French king in a continuing effort to maintain the power of her family.

—National Geographic

On her release, Eleanor played a greater political role than ever before. She actively prepared for Richard’s coronation as king, was administrator of the realm during his Crusade to the Holy Land, and, after his capture by the duke of Austria on Richard’s return from the east, collected his ransom and went in person to escort him to England. During Richard’s absence, she succeeded in keeping his kingdom intact and in thwarting the intrigues of his brother John Lackland and Philip II Augustus, king of France, against him.

In 1199 Richard died without leaving an heir to the throne, and John was crowned king. Eleanor, nearly 80 years old, fearing the disintegration of the Plantagenet domain, crossed the Pyrenees in 1200 in order to fetch her granddaughter Blanche from the court of Castile and marry her to the son of the French king. By this marriage she hoped to ensure peace between the Plantagenets of England and the Capetian kings of France. In the same year she helped to defend Anjou and Aquitaine against her grandson Arthur of Brittany, thus securing John’s French possessions. In 1202 John was again in her debt for holding Mirebeau against Arthur, until John, coming to her relief, was able to take him prisoner. John’s only victories on the Continent, therefore, were due to Eleanor.

She died in 1204 at the monastery at Fontevrault, Anjou, where she had retired after the campaign at Mirebeau. Her contribution to England extended beyond her own lifetime; after the loss of Normandy (1204), it was her own ancestral lands and not the old Norman territories that remained loyal to England. 

—Britannica

Henry II died in July 1189 and their son Richard succeeded him; one of his first acts was to free his mother from prison and restore her to full freedom. Eleanor ruled as regent in Richard’s name while he took over for his father in leading the Third Crusade, which had barely begun when Henry II died. On the conclusion of the crusade, Richard (known as Richard the Lionheart) returned to England and ruled until his death in 1199. Eleanor lived to see her youngest son, John, crowned king after Richard’s death, and was employed by John as an envoy to France. She would later support John’s rule against the rebellion of her grandson Arthur, and eventually retire as a nun to the abbey at Fontevraud, where she was buried upon her death in 1204. 

—History

Alysanne died before Jaehaerys, but, as it was said before, during their life together she helped him to codified the laws of Westeros, she procured the promulgation of important laws in favor of women rights and gave fresh water to the people of Kings landing.

Alysanne also acted as Jaehaerys representative in an important royal progress through the north, charming all the northern houses, specially the warden of the north, Lord Alaric Stark, and the men of the Night’s Watch, procuring the “New Gift” for them.

Alysanne, in open disagreement with her husband, was in favor of her daughter Daenerys and her granddaughter Rhaenys to be Jaehaerys’ heir to the Iron Throne, following the order of birth, not their sex.  

Again, Sansa is not in a Queen position yet, but she has the education and charms to become a great monarch. Her knowledge of history, heraldry and courtesies would also make her a great diplomat and negotiator.    

THE COURT OF LOVE

And we finally arrived to the section that will make you realize how much of Eleanor we can find in Sansa. After reading this part of Eleanor's story, I decided to write this post as a continuation of my Alysanne/Sansa post. And after doing some more research on GRRM's words on how much Eleanor has influenced their ASOIAF women, I think I made a good decision.

Eleanor was born in the South of France, in a court that was exactly like the Southern courts that Sansa read in her beloved songs and that she wished to live in:  

Their ducal court had a fine reputation as a patron of the arts. Eleanor’s grandfather, William IX, was known as the “troubadour duke,” famous for his poetry and songs about heroism and courtly love. Poets of the time, especially the famous Marcabru, found hospitality at the court of Aquitaine. 

—National Geographic

Now, lets read one of my favorite Sansa’s passages, one that tell us about her innocent dreams and wishes for a young and handsome singer that would make the walls of Winterfell alive with romantic music:

Once, when she was just a little girl, a wandering singer had stayed with them at Winterfell for half a year. An old man he was, with white hair and windburnt cheeks, but he sang of knights and quests and ladies fair, and Sansa had cried bitter tears when he left them, and begged her father not to let him go. "The man has played us every song he knows thrice over," Lord Eddard told her gently. "I cannot keep him here against his will. You need not weep, though. I promise you, other singers will come."

They hadn't, though, not for a year or more. Sansa had prayed to the Seven in their sept and old gods of the heart tree, asking them to bring the old man back, or better still to send another singer, young and handsome. But the gods never answered, and the halls of Winterfell stayed silent.

But that was when she was a little girl, and foolish. She was a maiden now, three-and-ten and flowered. All her nights were full of song, and by day she prayed for silence.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

Somehow, Eleanor’s story is in reverse, because when she married Louis VII of France and moved to Paris, in the North, she found her new home staid and cold:    

Possessing a high-spirited nature, Eleanor was not popular with the staid northerners. […] Much money went into making the austere Cité Palace in Paris more comfortable for Eleanor's sake.

—Wikipedia

Within weeks of her wedding, Eleanor found herself taking possession of the drafty and unwelcoming Cîté Palace in Paris that would be her new home.

—History

By many accounts, Eleanor was a bright and vivacious woman. Life at the Capetian court did not entirely meet the expectations and tastes of the young bride who was used to the court of Aquitaine’s embrace of troubadour poetry, sophistication, extravagance, and a greater freedom of manners. The Parisian court and northern France were more reserved. 

—National Geographic

Years later, when Eleanor was Queen of England, she decided to return to her own lands and stablished her own court in Poitiers, when she became a magnificent patron of arts:

In The Art of Courtly Love, Andreas Capellanus, Andrew the chaplain, refers to the court of Poitiers. He claims that Eleanor, her daughter Marie, Ermengarde, Viscountess of Narbonne, and Isabelle of Flanders would sit and listen to the quarrels of lovers and act as a jury to the questions of the court that revolved around acts of romantic love. He records some twenty-one cases, the most famous of them being a problem posed to the women about whether true love can exist in marriage. According to Capellanus, the women decided that it was not at all likely. 

—Wikipedia

In this marriage, Eleanor was also able to become a patron of the arts, and at least four writers dedicated their work to her. She famously established the so-called Court of Love at Poitiers between 1168 and 1173. Along with her daughter Marie (from her first marriage), popular accounts describe Eleanor’s court as a flowering of culture where music, poetry, and chivalry took center stage. 

—National Geographic

During her childbearing years, she participated actively in the administration of the realm and even more actively in the management of her own domains. She was instrumental in turning the court of Poitiers, then frequented by the most famous troubadours of the time, into a centre of poetry and a model of courtly life and manners. She was the great patron of the two dominant poetic movements of the time: the courtly love tradition, conveyed in the romantic songs of the troubadours, and the historical matière de Bretagne, or “legends of Brittany,” which originated in Celtic traditions and in the Historia regum Britanniae, written by the chronicler Geoffrey of Monmouth sometime between 1135 and 1138. 

—Britannica

Eleanor’s time as mistress of her own lands in Poitiers (1168-1173) established the legend of the Court of Love, where she is reputed to have encouraged a culture of chivalry among her courtiers that had far-reaching influence on literature, poetry, music and folklore. Although some facts about the court remain in dispute amidst centuries of accumulated legend and myth, it seems that Eleanor, possibly accompanied by her daughter Marie, established a court that was largely focused on courtly love and symbolic ritual that was eagerly taken up by the troubadours and writers of the day and promulgated through poetry and song. This court was reported to have attracted artists and poets, and to have contributed to a flowering of culture and the arts. But to whatever extent such a court existed, it appears not to have survived Eleanor’s later capture and imprisonment, which effectively removed her from any position of power and influence for the next 16 years. 

—History

Now, after reading about Eleanor’s Court of Love, tell if she doesn’t sound exactly like Sansa?  And this give me hope about Sansa, once in a position of power and in her own lands, establishing a similar court full of poets and singers to promote chivalry and courtly love, just like in her little girl’s dreams and wishes.

Another customs from the Middle Ages that GRRM introduced in the Books, in line with themes of chivalry courtly love, are the jousting tourneys and the title for the queen of love and beauty.  The subject was discussed in this post:

That being said, what they did have in the twelfth century was the idea of the Court of Love, which developed under the aegis of one of my personal favourite medieval figures, Eleanor of Aquitaine, first queen of France, and then queen of England. Eleanor was the daughter and heiress of the duke of Aquitaine, whose court was known as a centre of arts and culture, particularly music and poetry. When she was in charge, she patronized many poets, musicians, and artists, and they of course reciprocated by referring to her as the queen of love. Her daughter, Marie, Countess of Champagne, followed suit, and is best known for having commissioned Chrétien de Troyes to write a romance about Queen Guinevere and thereby introducing the world to Sir Lancelot of the Lake.

—poorshadowspaintedqueens

Eleanor being called the queen of love and beauty by poets and musicians gives me hope about Sansa being crowned queen of love and beauty sometime in the Books. 

Alysanne also favored arts and introduced them again in the Red Keep:

Queen Alysanne looked back on the short-lived glories of her father’s court fondly, however, and made it her purpose to make the Red Keep glitter as it never had before, buying tapestries and carpets from Free Cities and commissioning murals, statuary, and tilework to decorate the castle’s halls and chambers. At her command, men from the City Watch combed Flea Bottom until they found Tom the Strummer, whose mocking songs had amused king and commons alike during the War for the White Cloaks. Alysanne made him the court singer, the first of many who would hold that office in the decades to come. She brought in a harpist from Oldtown, a company of mummers from Braavos, dancers from Lys, and gave the Red Keep its first fool, a fat man called the Goodwife who dressed as a woman and was never seen without his wooden “children,” a pair of cleverly carved puppets who said ribald, shocking things.

—Fire & Blood

But I think that GRRM took inspiration from Eleanor’s Court of Love to create Alysanne’s Women Courts:

Since holding the first of her women's courts during the first royal progress Alysanne and Jaehaerys made, the women's courts became an important part of every subsequent royal progress. Only women and girls were allowed to join Alysanne during these courts, regardless of their status of birth. Alysanne encouraged them to speak freely and openly about their fears, concerns, and hopes.

The first of Alysanne's women's courts was held in 51 AC at the town of Duskendale, when King Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Queen Alysanne made their first royal progress. In 52 AC, during Jaehaerys's second royal progress, Alysanne held a women's court at Gulltown, and another at the Gates of the Moon. The things she heard from the women during these two women's courts resulted in her plea to Jaehaerys to protect the widows of the Seven Kingdoms from being cast aside by the children of their late husbands from earlier marriages. In response, Jaehaerys promulgated the Widow's Law.

In 53 AC, when Alysanne was unwilling to join Jaehaerys on his royal progress due to her pregnancy, Lady Jennis Templeton accompanied the king's retinue in order to hold women's courts at Riverrun and Stoney Sept.

In 58 AC while visiting the North, Alysanne held a women's court at White Harbour, where more than two hundred women and girls came before her. When she eventually arrived at the Wall to visit the Night's Watch, she held a women's court in a brothel at Mole's Town. Following their return to King's Landing, Alysanne brought to Jaehaerys's attention the stories she had heard in her women's court at Mole's Town, concerning the right to the first night. As a result, Jaehaerys abolished the lord's right to the first night. These policies, influenced by Alysanne, came to be called Queen Alysanne's laws by the smallfolk. 

[Source]

As you can see, these women’s meeting with Alysanne resulted in the promulgation of laws to protect women’s rights against sexual abuse and domestic violence.  And let’s also remember that Alysanne, in open disagreement with her husband, was in favor of her daughter Daenerys and her granddaughter Rhaenys to be Jaehaerys’ heir to the Iron Throne, following the order of birth, not their sex.  

The most prominent dissenter was Good Queen Alysanne, who had helped her husband rule the Seven Kingdoms for many years, and now saw her son’s daughter being passed over because of her sex. “A ruler needs a good head and a true heart,” she famously told the king. “A cock is not essential. If Your Grace truly believes that women lack the wit to rule, plainly you have no further need of me.” 

—Fire & Blood

Now tell if this not sound pretty similar to:

The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.”

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VI

Sansa Stark is Good Queen material. Tyrion Lannister And GRRM agrees.

Queen Alysanne was also fond of singers and gallant knights:

Three of the brothers had been singers before taking the black, and they took turns playing for Her Grace at night, regaling her with ballads, war songs, and bawdy barracks tunes. 

—Fire & Blood

Though his castle was small and modest compared to the great halls of the realm, Lord Dondarrion was a splendid host and his son Simon played the high harp as well as he jousted, and entertained the royal couple by night with sad songs of star-crossed lovers and the fall of kings. So taken with him was the queen that the party lingered longer at Blackhaven than they had intended.

—Fire & Blood

One of the Knights of Legends that Sansa idolizes, Ser Ryam Redwyne, crowned Queen Alysanne as the queen of love and beauty:

On the field, the highlight of the competition was the brilliance of Ser Ryam Redwyne, the youngest son of Lord Manfryd Redwyne of the Arbor, Jaehaerys’s lord admiral and master of ships. In successive tilts, Ser Ryam unhorsed Ronnal Baratheon, Arthor Oakheart, Simon Dondarrion, Harys Hogg (Harry the Ham, to the commons), and two Kingsguard knights, Lorence Roxton and Lucamore Strong. When the young gallant trotted up to the royal box and crowned Good Queen Alysanne as his queen of love and beauty, the commons roared their approval.

—Fire & Blood

Back to Sansa, let’s read one of my favorite pieces from last year, written a month before the Show final episode, an interview to GRRM to talk exclusively about the Stark Sisters, Arya and Sansa Stark:

I wanted to read you one of the earliest passages that you wrote about the two of them, if that’s okay.

Sure.

“It wasn’t fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother’s fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn.”

So what was the glimmer of an idea for these two sisters?

Well you’re taking me back a long, long way. That’s a pretty early chapter …  I first began in 1991. I wrote about a hundred pages of it before I got distracted by Hollywood stuff, and then I put it aside for like two years before I got back to it. Those words you read were actually part of the first hundred pages that I was doing there. When I was writing these, and I was creating a family for Lord Eddard Stark … I knew I wanted it to be a fairly large family, with a number of children. I suppose I cheated a little by not having three children who died in infancy in there, which was true of the actual Middle Ages. They had a terrible time with kids who died very young.

So I created Bran and in the very first chapter, I wrote where they find the direwolf pups in the snow. Bran is the viewpoint chapter there, and Robb and Jon and Theon are all with him, they’re the boys who rode out with their father to see the man beheaded. The fact that the boys went out was a reflection of what a patriarchal society it was, as medieval societies often were. I was following history in that regard … But I wanted some girls, too.

And when I actually got to Winterfell in the later chapter, I knew I wanted to deal with the role that women and young girls had in this kind of society. So to show the contrast, [we] have two sisters who were very, very different from each other. The Middle Ages was very patriarchal. I’m a little weary of over-generalizing, since that makes me seem like an idiot — but generally, women didn’t have a lot of rights. They were used to make marriage-alliances; I’m talking high-born women now, of course. Peasant women had even less rights. But I was focusing on a noble family here as the center of the book.

At the same time, this is also the era where courtly romance was born: the gallant Knight, the fair lady, the princess, all of that stuff. That became very big, initially in the courts of France and Burgundy, but it spread all over Europe, including England and Germany.  And it still has its roots in a lot of stuff that we follow today. I mean, in some sense the Disney Princess archetype — the whole princess mythos — that we’re all familiar with is a legacy of the troubadours of the romance era of medieval France.

Sansa completely bought into that, loved everything about that. She dreamed of jousts, bards singing of her beauty, fair knights, being the mistress of a castle and perhaps a princess and queen. The whole romantic thing.

And then to have Arya, a girl who did not fit that — and who, from the very beginning, was uncomfortable and chafes at the roles that she was being pushed into. You know, who didn’t wanna sew but wanted to fight with a sword, who liked riding and hunting and wrestling in the mud. A “tomboy” we would call it, I guess. But that phrase, of course, didn’t exist in the Middle Ages, so I don’t think I ever use it in the books, but you know what I mean. So that was the roots to create these two characters who were very different from each other, and who then necessarily chafed against each other in the context of the books.

—GRRM - RollingStone - 2019

Do I need to tell more? It seems to me very obvious that GRRM has translated Eleanor’s Court of Love into Sansa’s love for songs and stories, courtesies and profound beliefs on chivalry and courtly love:

Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. She loved nothing so well as tales of knightly valor. 

—A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

Sansa Stark, he mused. Soft-spoken sweet-smelling Sansa, who loved silks, songs, chivalry and tall gallant knights with handsome faces. 

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III

Also, take note that Sansa loves her courtesies, they are her armor.

But there is more to say about Eleanor of Aquitaine and her influence in the creation of ASOIAF women, especially women profoundly linked and similar to Sansa Stark. Let’s see:

While promoting Fire & Blood, GRRM told us this about Eleanor of Aquitaine:

Question: A lot of your female characters are very empowered and motivated, which other fictional or historical female characters did you drawn inspiration from, if any?    

GRRM: Ahhh, well, there was a lot of them, Eleanor of Aquitaine of course was a major one, she was one of the most kick-ass women of the Middle Ages and, you know, she had her own crusade, or she went on crusade rather and she married two kings and then was the mother of several more, she was a great character. There’s also a lot of the... If you read the Italian History, a lot of the... During the Italian Middle Ages and Renaissance period, there were a lot of very powerful and bloody women who controlled various city-states in Italy, and did some amazing things.     

—In conversation: George R.R. Martin with Dan Jones FULL EVENT

We already know that Alysanne was called by GRRM, the “Eleanor of Aquitaine of Westeros”:

Alysanne was the queen, consort, and sister of King Jaehaerys I, the Old King, and like him she lived a long life. Since you pictured him as an old man at the end of his reign, I figure it would be most appropriate to do her the same way, rather than as the young woman she was when Jaehaerys first ascended the Iron Throne.

You might consider Alysanne as the Eleanor of Aquitaine of Westeros, and model her on Katharine Hepburn’s portrayal of Eleanor in the film THE LION IN WINTER. Tall and straight, unbowed by time, she had high cheekbones, clear blue eyes. Age left crow’s feet around her eyes and laugh lines about her mouth, but her face never lost its strength. She was a fine archer and hunter in her youth, and loved to fly atop her dragon to all the distant parts of the realm. Alysanne was slim of waist and small of breast, with a long neck, a fair complexion, a high forehead. In old age her hair turned white as snow. She wore it in a bun, pulled back and pinned behind her hear.

Her relationship with King Jaehaerys was always very close. She was his most trusted counselor and his right hand, and often wore a slimmer, more feminine version of his crown at court. Beloved by the common people of Westeros, she loved them in return, and was renowned for her charities. [Source] 

But Alysanne is not the only woman linked and similar to Sansa that was modeled from Eleanor.  GRRM has also said that he took inspiration from Eleanor of Aquitaine to create Catelyn Stark and Brienne of Tarth:  

Interviewer: One of the strongest female characters is Catelyn Stark, in my point of view.

GRRM: Well, I wanted to make a strong mother character. The portrayal women in epic fantasy have been problematical for a long time. These books are largely written by men but women also read them in great, great numbers. And the women in fantasy tend to be very atypical women… They tend to be the woman warrior or the spunky princess who wouldn’t accept what her father lays down, and I have those archetypes in my books as well.

However, with Catelyn there is something reset for the Eleanor of Aquitaine, the figure of the woman who accepted her role and functions with a narrow society and, nonetheless, achieves considerable influence and power and authority despite accepting the risks and limitations of this society. She is also a mother… Then, a tendency you can see in a lot of other fantasies is to kill the mother or to get her off the stage. She’s usually dead before the story opens… Nobody wants to hear about King Arthur’s mother and what she thought or what she was doing, so they get her off the stage and I wanted it too. And that’s Catelyn.

—Adrias News - 2012

So Catelyn Stark is “the figure of the woman who accepted her role and functions with a narrow society and, nonetheless, achieves considerable influence and power and authority despite accepting the risks and limitations of this society”.

Catelyn Stark, Sansa’s lady mother and role model, the symbol of strength she turned to when she pleaded for her father's life:

Sansa quailed. Now, she told herself, I must do it now. Gods give me courage. She took one step, then another. Lords and knights stepped aside silently to let her pass, and she felt the weight of their eyes on her. I must be as strong as my lady mother. "Your Grace," she called out in a soft, tremulous voice.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa V    

Catelyn Stark, the woman whose name Sansa wanted to take as her new identity:

What should you be called?" "I . . . I could call myself after my mother . . ." "Catelyn? A bit too obvious . . . but after my mother, that would serve. Alayne. Do you like it?" "Alayne is pretty." Sansa hoped she would remember. 

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

Catelyn Stark, the mother that Sansa didn’t forget and that reminds inside her to preserve her true identity:

I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard's daughter and Lady Catelyn's, the blood of Winterfell. 

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

That Catelyn Stark is the kind of woman that Sansa Stark will become and surpass in the future. To quote GRRM: “one of the most kick-ass women of the Middle Ages Westeros”.

Here you can read more about Catelyn Stark and Eleanor of Aquitaine parallels.

And this is what GRRM said about who inspired Brienne of Tarth:

“I enjoyed Xena the Warrior Princess a lot but I did not think it was an accurate portrayal of what a women warrior was or would be like, and I sort of created Brienne of Tarth as an answer to that.

I was inspired by people like Eleanor of Aquitaine and not so much Joan of Arc, but the queens of Scottish history, from Lady Macbeth on down - strong women who didn’t put on chain-mail bikinis to go forth into battle, but exercised immense powers by other ways.” 

—Pajiba - 2014

That quote was from the Edinburgh International Book Festival 2014.  During that event, and even before, there were reports about GRRM saying that: “Brienne is Sansa with a sword”.     

Since there was no primary source for this quote (I just found a broken link not longer available), just the fan reports we found in reddit and westeros.org, with the help of some friends, we decided to ask the man himself. We contacted him via email. 

And he answered us. 

More or less the question was this:

I recently came across a quotation that’s been attributed to you, but unfortunately the original source is no longer available, and I wanted to confirm it’s something you’ve actually said in the past. In 2014 at the Edinburgh Book Festival, multiple fans quoted you as saying that Brienne of Tarth is “Sansa with a sword,” with regards to certain personality traits. Is that an accurate quotation?

And George’s answer was this:

I don’t remember saying that, but it could be. It has been six years. GRRM

¡My friends and I are still ecstatic!

And as I said before, this beautiful quote “Brienne is Sansa with a sword”, also reminds me of this interview:

Game of Thrones Season 4 Premiere: 

Interviewer: Is there any character who is morally beyond reproach?      

GRRM: Beyon reproach? You mean like good, so good? Probably not.

Interviewer: I was thinking Brienne.    

GRRM: Maybe, yes, certainly. She’s up there. She’s very idealistic. At least in the beginning, but you know her journey still has a way to go, and my world has a way of testing one’s ideals, so we’ll see by the end.

That Brienne description sounds pretty much like Sansa, right?

So there you have it, I just love that Catelyn, Brienne and Sansa belong to the Eleanor of Aquitaine’s kick-ass women club.

BAD REPUTATION ¡KICK-ASS REPUTATION!

As you can imagine, through all these years, Eleanor of Aquitaine, for being the woman she was, had also gotten a bad reputation:

At times portrayed as a frivolous young woman or a manipulative schemer, Eleanor was a savvy player on the political stage—unafraid to exercise the power she held; her reputation may have been damaged by her boldness, but her influence on the political and cultural events of the 12th century remains undiminished. 

—National Geographic

She has been misjudged by many French historians who have noted only her youthful frivolity, ignoring the tenacity, political wisdom, and energy that characterized the years of her maturity. “She was beautiful and just, imposing and modest, humble and elegant”; and, as the nuns of Fontevrault wrote in their necrology, a queen “who surpassed almost all the queens of the world.” 

—Britannica

Indeed, while researching for this post I found awful reports about Eleanor, trying to disqualified her and her achievements, and trying also to demystify her figure calling most of the facts attributed to her, fantasies and fiction.  In a state where we don’t even have a reliable source about Eleanor’s true physical features, I think it is more probable that we only knew a few things about her, and knowing so little, she still is “one of the most kick-ass women of the Middle Ages”.

Thanks the Gods, Alysanne never suffered of this bad reputation “phenomenon”, the way other women from Fire and Blood had.  You just have to read the things that were told about the first Rhaenys and Rhaena to know that they were the subjects of misogyny and bad propaganda as a way to diminished them and exalt other characters.

I’m not saying that Alysanne didn’t deserve to be called the “Good Queen”, but Jaehaerys used her for his Targaryen supremacy propaganda campaign, and, as you may have already realized, most of the time Alysanne was the real author of the best initiatives and laws of Jaehaerys’ rule:

“Words are wind,” he told his council, “but wind can fan a fire. My father and my uncle fought words with steel and flame. We shall fight words with words, and put out the fires before they start.” And so saying, His Grace sent forth not knights and men-at-arms, but preachers. “Tell every man you meet of Alysanne’s kindness, her sweet and gentle nature, and her love for all the people of our kingdom, great and small,” the king charged them. 

—Fire & Blood

But Catelyn and Sansa were not freed of this bad reputation “phenomenon”. Catelyn and Sansa are two of the most hated and insulted characters of ASOIAF, no matter how many times the author himself has defended them of unjust critics and baseless judgments. Just like Eleanor, Catelyn and Sansa are called frivolous, manipulative, schemers; but also, and at the same time, useless and whiny.  It’s ridiculous.

Following the "Creating Characters" panel, Linda and I mentioned to George that some people gave Sansa and Catelyn a lot of grief, claiming they "whined" too much.

George was quite adamant that he disagreed with those readers. He pointed out that the problem is that readers often don't seem to make a distinction between internal thought and external speech in a way that an author might prefer. Specifically, in terms of "whining", to him whining is a verbal act -- you actually have to speak to whine. Cat doesn't do that, though -- all her dark, depressed thoughts are kept to herself. Yes, the reader is aware of them, because they read her POV, but she absolutely does not burden other characters with them. Basically, everyone has bad times among the good times, and they think negatively then but just having negative thoughts isn't whining.

[Source]

There you have it haters, GRRM wants for you to know that you can’t read.

So, let’s just change this bad reputation tag for a better one: ¡KICK-ASS REPUTATION!

And to finish this really long post, I will leave you with what I wrote about the l’Armure necklace that Louis Vuitton gave to Sophie Turner for the 71st annual Emmy Awards:

The dazzling piece in question is titled the l’Armure necklace, from Louis Vuitton’s “Riders of the Knights” collection. Made with white gold, 640 diamonds and 305 baguette-cut diamonds, it took over 1,175 hours of work to complete. “The design is inspired by medieval armor,” Louis Vuitton’s jewelry designer Francesca Amfitheatrof told Vogue. [Source]

The Riders of the Knights collection achieves an immersive aesthetic drawn from medieval codes of chivalry and heraldic crests. (…)

With this new collection, the House pays tribute to the powerful vision that impelled so many medieval heroines to transcend their limitations and forge their own destiny. These women made a lasting mark on the man’s world they inhabited, shaping their fate. They are the very embodiment of determination and independence, values that reflect the Louis Vuitton woman. [Source]

Louis Vuitton literally gave Sophie her own armor in the form of a white gold and diamonds necklace, in a very similar fashion to Michele Clapton giving Sansa her Needle necklace and her armor belt and dress, that armored her against all the claimers of her body and ancestral lands.  

A beautiful and symbolic way to honor the character Sophie played for about 10 years, Sansa Stark, a medieval heroine that prevailed against the patriarchal Westerosi society, never abandoning her feminine strength and courage, while still believing in chivalry and inspiring true knights along her path. 

¡The Queen in the North!    

¡The Queen in the North!    

¡The Queen in the North!    

¡The Queen in the North!    

[richincolor]

Voting and YA Lit

The November election is getting closer and closer. If you're eligible to vote and need more information, Vote.org is an excellent place to start. The League of Women Voters also has a First Time Voter Checklist that may be helpful. This year there may be additional challenges to voting, but if you are able, please let your voice be heard through your vote.

In the final two months before the election, you may enjoy some related reading. First, a few YA novels featuring elections or voting:

Yes No Maybe So by Becky Albertalli and Aisha Saeed Balzer + Bray [Group Discussion]

YES Jamie Goldberg is cool with volunteering for his local state senate candidate—as long as he’s behind the scenes. When it comes to speaking to strangers (or, let’s face it, speaking at all to almost anyone), Jamie’s a choke artist. There’s no way he’d ever knock on doors to ask people for their votes…until he meets Maya.

NO Maya Rehman’s having the worst Ramadan ever. Her best friend is too busy to hang out, her summer trip is canceled, and now her parents are separating. Why her mother thinks the solution to her problems is political canvassing—with some awkward dude she hardly knows—is beyond her.

MAYBE SO Going door to door isn’t exactly glamorous, but maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world. After all, the polls are getting closer—and so are Maya and Jamie. Mastering local activism is one thing. Navigating the cross-cultural romance of the century is another thing entirely.

The Voting Booth by Brandy Colbert Disney-Hyperion [Crystal's Review]

Marva Sheridan was born ready for this day. She’s always been driven to make a difference in the world, and what better way than to vote in her first election?

Duke Crenshaw is so done with this election. He just wants to get voting over with so he can prepare for his band’s first paying gig tonight.

Only problem? Duke can’t vote.

When Marva sees Duke turned away from their polling place, she takes it upon herself to make sure his vote is counted. She hasn’t spent months doorbelling and registering voters just to see someone denied their right. And that’s how their whirlwind day begins, rushing from precinct to precinct, cutting school, waiting in endless lines, turned away time and again, trying to do one simple thing: vote. They may have started out as strangers, but as Duke and Marva team up to beat a rigged system (and find Marva’s missing cat), it’s clear that there’s more to their connection than a shared mission for democracy.

Romantic and triumphant, The Voting Booth is proof that you can’t sit around waiting for the world to change, but some things are just meant to be.

Running by Natalia Sylvester Clarion Books

When fifteen-year-old Cuban American Mariana Ruiz’s father runs for president, Mari starts to see him with new eyes. A novel about waking up and standing up, and what happens when you stop seeing your dad as your hero—while the whole country is watching.

In this thoughtful, authentic, humorous, and gorgeously written novel about privacy, waking up, and speaking up, Senator Anthony Ruiz is running for president. Throughout his successful political career he has always had his daughter’s vote, but a presidential campaign brings a whole new level of scrutiny to sheltered fifteen-year-old Mariana and the rest of her Cuban American family, from a 60 Minutes–style tour of their house to tabloids doctoring photos and inventing scandals. As tensions rise within the Ruiz family, Mari begins to learn about the details of her father’s political positions, and she realizes that her father is not the man she thought he was.

But how do you find your voice when everyone’s watching? When it means disagreeing with your father—publicly? What do you do when your dad stops being your hero? Will Mari get a chance to confront her father? If she does, will she have the courage to seize it?

There are also a few YA nonfiction books that deal with activism and voting rights:

How I Resist edited by Maureen Johnson Wednesday Books

Now, more than ever, young people are motivated to make a difference in a world they're bound to inherit. They're ready to stand up and be heard - but with much to shout about, where they do they begin? What can I do? How can I help?

How I Resist is the response, and a way to start the conversation. To show readers that they are not helpless, and that anyone can be the change. A collection of essays, songs, illustrations, and interviews about activism and hope, How I Resist features an all-star group of contributors, including John Paul Brammer, Libba Bray, Lauren Duca, Modern Family's Jesse Tyler Ferguson and his husband Justin Mikita, Alex Gino, Hebh Jamal, Malinda Lo, Dylan Marron, Hamilton star Javier Muñoz, Rosie O'Donnell, Junauda Petrus, Jodi Picoult, Jason Reynolds, Karuna Riazi, Maya Rupert, Dana Schwartz, Dan Sinker, Ali Stroker, Jonny Sun (aka @jonnysun), Sabaa Tahir, Shaina Taub, Daniel Watts, Jennifer Weiner, Jacqueline Woodson, and more, all edited and compiled by New York Times bestselling author Maureen Johnson.

In How I Resist, readers will find hope and support through voices that are at turns personal, funny, irreverent, and instructive. Not just for a young adult audience, this incredibly impactful collection will appeal to readers of all ages who are feeling adrift and looking for guidance.

How I Resist is the kind of book people will be discussing for years to come and a staple on bookshelves for generations.

The March Trilogy by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin and Nate Powell Top Shelf Productions

A graphic novel memoir in three parts. It tells of the Civil Rights movement through the eyes of John Lewis. Readers see Lewis and other activists launching campaigns such as the Freedom Vote and Mississippi Freedom Summer. The books lead all the way through to the Selma March.

And finally, picture books aren't just for children. Here are two picture books young adults would likely appreciate:

The Voice of Freedom: Fannie Lou Hamer by Carole Boston Weatherford, illustrated by Ekua Holmes Candlewick Press

A stirring collection of poems and spirituals, accompanied by stunning collage illustrations, recollects the life of Fannie Lou Hamer, a champion of equal voting rights.

"I am sick and tired of being sick and tired."

Despite fierce prejudice and abuse, even being beaten to within an inch of her life, Fannie Lou Hamer was a champion of civil rights from the 1950s until her death in 1977. Integral to the Freedom Summer of 1964, Ms. Hamer gave a speech at the Democratic National Convention that, despite President Johnson’s interference, aired on national TV news and spurred the nation to support the Freedom Democrats. Featuring luminous mixed-media art both vibrant and full of intricate detail, Singing for Freedom celebrates Fannie Lou Hamer’s life and legacy with an inspiring message of hope, determination, and strength.

Granddaddy's Turn: A Journey to the Ballot Box by Michael S. Bandy & Eric Stein, illustrated by James Ransome Candlewick Press

Based on the true story of one family’s struggle for voting rights in the Civil Rights–era South, this moving tale shines an emotional spotlight on a dark facet of U.S. history.

Life on the farm with Granddaddy is full of hard work, but despite all the chores, Granddaddy always makes time for play, especially fishing trips. Even when there isn’t a bite to catch, he reminds young Michael that it takes patience to get what’s coming to you. One morning, when Granddaddy heads into town in his fancy suit, Michael knows that something very special must be happening—and sure enough, everyone is lined up at the town hall! For the very first time, Granddaddy is allowed to vote, and he couldn’t be more proud. But can Michael be patient when it seems that justice just can’t come soon enough? This powerful and touching true-life story shares one boy’s perspective of growing up in the segregated South, while beautiful illustrations depict the rural setting in tender detail.

[sinsbymanka]

@tightassets and I have combined our smutty angsty powers to bring you our combined prompts for @cozy-autumn-prompts, brain child of the lovely @scharoux. 

For our first prompt, enjoy this ADORABLE picture of Keaton Hawke and Lilitu Lavellan sharing a blanket for Prompt #3 (also join me in ooh’ing and ahh’ing over the rain effect and Lilitu and Keaton’s PERFECT expressions).

And as always, art has inspired fic! Special shoutout here for @solas-disapproves for helping me translate some Elvhen because I’m hopeless and @jennserr for the amazing translation trick on AO3!

Title: You Smell Like Wet Dog Pairing: Male Hawke x Female Lavellan, Keaton Hawke x Lilitu Lavellan Rating: M Content Warnings:  Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Flirting, Pining, Past Anders/Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Sexual Tension

Read on AO3

Keaton was beginning to realize his memories of Ferelden may have been tinged with just the slightest whiff of nostalgia. 

Sure, there were definitely things to admire. First and foremost,there were more dogs and fewer Orlesians, always a plus. Unfortunately, a solid ninety-five percent of his stay in Crestwood had consisted of scraping mud out of his boots, an overall minus. Add in the lakes full of cursed undead he somehow missed as a child, and he’d have to readjust his thinking about his homeland. Add in Varric’s unbearable snoring, the rain dripping through a small hole in their shared canvas tent, and the smell of charred human flesh, and Keaton Hawke had quite enough of this visit .

As if the dwarf heard him, the rumble in the tent only intensified. Keaton threw his forearm over his eyes and grit his teeth together. Sweet Andraste’s blushing asscheeks. At least Keaton finally knew the real reason Varric’s prime lady friend was a weapon of mass destruction. Any flesh and blood woman would have smothered him. 

Not that Keaton would have blamed them. If he had a real pi llow, he may have done it himself. 

For a blissful moment, the constant noise ceased. Keaton closed his eyes and tried to will himself to fall asleep. He was exhausted, his shoulder ached, and-

The rumble started up again almost on cue, loud as a pride demon trapped inside with them. Keaton flung his arm from his face, turned his head to glare at the dwarf, and promptly had a fat drop of water plop in his eyeball.

Well. So much for sleeping here. Maybe he’d go find one of those charming caves full of giant spiders and take his chances of getting eaten alive. 

Keaton didn’t bother to muffle the noise his hasty departure from the tent made, but his blighted best friend snored peacefully through all of it. When he dove out through the tent flap and into the freezing rain, Keaton fought the urge to grab his sword and slash the canvas right over Varric’s annoying face. 

He honestly may have done it anyway, self-control had never been his strong suit, but before he could weigh the pros and cons of listening to Varric’s complaints about a ruined tent the whole way back to Skyhold, something much more interesting caught his attention. 

Perhaps one of the few truly good things about being stuck in the soggy Ferelden countryside. 

The Inquisitor glowed in the firelight. Keaton swore he heard her humming even in the steady patter of the rain. The song sounded half familiar, something Keaton swore he’d heard before. 

Then Inquisitor Lilitu Lavellan tossed her moonlight pale hair over her shoulder and looked behind her towards the tent. Almost instantly her nose popped into the air like a hound scenting trouble, her brow furrowing. 

“What are you doing?” She demanded. 

Excellent question. One that probably demanded a semi-coherent answer. 

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and gave her the sunniest smile he could manage while the rain was plastering his hair to his face. “We were comparing chest hair and I was coming out the obvious winner, so now I’ve got to find another tent.” 

Lilitu blinked once. Twice. Then she shook her head and scowled. 

“You’ll get wet.” 

“Wet.” Keaton repeated. Lilitu huffed in irritation and pointed at the sky above them as if to illustrate it was indeed raining and that would be responsible for getting them wet. 

Although the little pout twisting her lips made him think of much more delightful ways to get her wet than the blighted Ferelden weather. If only his current tent wasn’t occupied by the loudest and most annoying dwarf he’d ever met. 

Before he could begin calculating alternate arrangements, Lilitu stalked away from the fire and straight towards him. One small hand, not even wide enough to wrap the whole way around his wrist, dug into bicep and dragged him forward with surprising strength and astonishing impatience. 

...was it wrong to be impressed, terrified, and aroused by the tiny elf manhandling him? 

Before he could consider the full implications of that thought, she dragged him to the log she’d been sitting on, pointing at it before issuing her command. “Sit.” 

He didn’t see how that was going to help him be less wet, but who was he to deny the Inquisitor herself. Particularly when she wore an expression that managed to be both stern and utterly adorable under the curling crimson ink of her vallaslin. He tossed the tiny elf a sunny grin and plopped himself down on her log. 

Which was exactly when he realized what a clever little set up she had. Surrounding the log was a pocket of warm, blissfully dry air. Before he could even process his shock at the sheer neatness of her trick, she settled herself beside him with a little hum, looking up at him while she picked up the blanket she’d abandoned to retrieve him. 

Then her nose wrinkled and she sniffed audibly. “Ma odhe irmes dhar.”

Had… had she just told him he smelled like a wet dog? 

“Ahn?” He sputtered. 

Her whole face lit up like Satinalia had come early. “Dirthas Elvhen?” 

Keaton smirked and nodded. “Dirthan.” 

He may have spoke Elvhen, but he wasn’t prepared for the torrent of words that flew from Lilitu’s lips as she leaned closer. He caught bits and pieces of words. Champion. Kirkwall. Something about a dragon. 

Ah. Varric’s name. Somebody had been telling stories about him again. 

“Dirtha felas’el!” He laughed, running his hand through the soaked stripe of hair on his head. “I’ll answer your questions, kitten, but you gotta slow down.” 

That seemed to please her quite a bit judging by the satisfied smirk playing around her sinful lips. She fluffed the blankets in her hand before flapping it in the air with a deft flick of her wrist. 

Then those same clever fingers were tossing half the blanket over his shoulders while her curvy form pressed firmly against his side and the other half of the blanket draped over her. Lilitu’s pointed chin tipped up expectantly, and for a dizzying moment, Keaton almost thought she’d lay her head against his arm. 

“Dirth ma.” She insisted, poking his muscled arm. “The dragon.” 

“Which one?” Keaton asked. 

Her eyes shimmered with joy. “All of them.” 

Keaton scratched at his beard thoughtfully while she examined him with her bright, inquisitive gaze. Her eyes glowed and his heart throbbed almost painfully, a feeling he didn’t quite understand.

One he very much didn’t want to understand. 

He tore his eyes from her to look at the fire, rolling his stiff shoulder, trying to think of where to start his pitiful story. 

“It hurts?” Lilitu asked, jabbing her finger into his bicep. He frowned, drawn back into her alluring orbit. 

“Only when I’m displaying manly feats of strength for your enjoyment.” 

The flirting still came easy, even after everything. Lilitu rolled her eyes to the dark sky, smile tugging her lips up, thin fingers trailing thoughtfully up over his loose cotton shirt before she dug her grip into his aching shoulder. 

Before he could complain, warmth trickled from her fingers, seeping into his abused muscles, easing the tightness, numbing the pain. It felt familiar, and different at the same time, bringing back a haunting echo of different hands at the same time a wave of heat settled into his gut. 

“Better?” Lilitu asked, eying him critically. 

It was. It would be. “You’re handy, kitten. I’ll give you that.” 

Was it just him, or did she let her hand linger just a moment, exploring the breadth of his muscles before she removed it with heat lingering in the expression she wore? 

Keaton didn’t know the answer to that question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Maker’s ass, was he in trouble. 

He took a deep breath while Lilitu settled herself beside him, leaning lightly into him. 

“Tell me.” She demanded, relaxing beside him, staring into the flickering flames with an expression of great satisfaction. As if she’d rather be nowhere else than their little bubble, silent but for the rain around them. 

Suspiciously silent, in fact. Keaton shot a chagrined look at the tent behind him. That dwarven bastard had planned this. Somehow. And Keaton would pay him back for it in spades. 

After he finished impressing Lilitu Lavellan with all the dragons he slayed. 

Elvhen Translation:

Ahn - what

Dirthas elvhen - you speak elvhen? 

Dirthan - I speak it. 

Dirtha felas’el - speak slower 

Dirth ma - tell me

[thebibliomancer]

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 18

Tides of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because HEY PERISS WHATS THE BIG DEAL?

Last times on book: Amri and co are on a quest to unite all the Gelfling clans against the Skeksis. They’ve crossed Maudra Ethri and the Sifa off the list and have headed into the desert to meet the Dousan clan at the Wellspring gathering place. After spending some time at a lake and eating some melon and stressing about a storm that’s not supposed to be hitting the Wellspring at all, the gang is further alarmed when their guide Periss takes Kylan hostage and forces them to come with him.

Chapter 18

Quest Log updated: Save a tree

Periss directs the team to a cave in the cliff wall. There’s a bunch of astrological carvings on the cliff face but Amri doesn’t have time to look at it. What with the storm. And the hostage crisis.

The cave is large enough to hold several dozen Gelfling and yet its just Periss and his captive audience. Which raises some questions from Amri.

“What were they doing back there?” he cried. “I saw them -- the Dousan, all just... just sitting around the lake! While the storm destroyed the Wellspring! Why?”

“Because that’s how they are.”

I’m still seeing why Periss was at odds with Dousan culture.

Periss lights a torch letting all the people without darkvision (everyone who isn’t Amri) to see how nice this cave is.

On the walls, reaching up about as high as a Gelfling stood, were carved and etched illustrations. They showed Gelfling with shaved heads and tattoos, bearing incense, all standing in a line in sets of three. The row of Gelfling ended facing a beautifully articulated tree, with long gnarled roots surrounding by a pool of water. The tree branches and leaves spread wide and tall over the heads of the Gelfling. Above the canopy were the jagged depictions of lightning and storms, and at the tree’s base sat a long-backed creature with a heavy tail. Four big arms and a mane tied in knots and braids.

“A Mystic,” Naia gasped. “The ancient sage?”

Ooookay. The puzzle pieces are starting to come together now.

If an urRu was the sage who taught the Dousan their rituals and traditions, no wonder the clan is passive and stagnant!

Kylan asks about the tree in the picture since there was no such tree at the Wellspring, although there were a lot of roots.

Periss tells him that the songs say that the tree was once so tall that it could be seen from any part of the desert. But the tree - and the lake which once filled the entire valley - started to shrink. And the tree was just a dried up old trunk eventually felled by a summer wind by the time Periss was a child.

Amri assumes that the tree died but Periss firmly denies it. But that’s what the rest of the Dousan think too.

They gathered the dried up branches and burned them.

But Periss knows that the tree is still alive because if it weren’t the lake would have dried up. He’s sure that the tree is the source of the water.

“Maudra Seethi was the first person I went to. She told me I had to let go. That clinging to things that have passed on will only chain me to an effigy of the past. She even gave me a part of it to burn. Can you believe it? A pyre for a tree that lives! That is the ritual taught by the sage, from hundreds of trine ago. But she wouldn’t understand that rituals must change with time, and circumstance.”

This still does sound like the kind of sidequest you’d get when rolling into town in an rpg.

Heck, I think fixing a tree IS a quest you get when rolling into Whiterun in Skyrim.

Can you imagine though going ‘you just need to let things go’ ABOUT THE DEATH OF ONE OF THE GREAT TREES? Because that’s what I’m assuming this is. A tree big enough to be seen through an entire desert? That’s pretty great. And the Dousan just shrugged and went ‘i guess it’ll die.’

(At this point since the group is listening to him and engaging and not having to be threatened, Periss puts away the knife. Good call, Periss.)

So Periss left the Dousan in anger, traveled the world for a solution, found some of those exposition petals, recognized the group in Cera-Na and thought ‘these protagonists will definitely be able to fix the tree.’

I mean, good call there, honestly.

But specifically its because of how Kylan dream-stitched the petals and how Naia healed the Cradle Tree in the first book. An event that was included in the exposition petals.

I love how Kylan’s quest concluding at the end of the second book has driven so much of this book. He shotgunned a bunch of petals out into the world and it keeps paying narrative dividends.

Periss also gives Kylan back the firca. Yay, best boy has his magic instrument again!

Naia agrees that the tree is probably alive based on what she sensed about the lake waters but she’s not sure that this is within their power to solve. The Wellspring tree is in a whole lot worse shape than the Cradle Tree.

“Well, we might as well try.” Onica stood near where the cave opened back into the valley. The storm outside was so dense, it was like the fabric of a Skeksis robe. ��If we don’t, this storm will destroy everything. The Dousan, the Crystal Skimmers, the Wellspring. Even if we survive the storm itself, we may be trapped in this cave.”

“Caves aren’t really that bad, but I get what you mean,” Amri said under his breath.

HAH!

With the fate of the entire clan and maybe them on the line, Amri steps into the silence.

“Onica is right. We have no choice but to try. But let’s make one thing clear” -- Amri faced Periss and held out his hand -- “we’re doing this as friends. Not as hostages. Got it?”

The Dousan boy hesitated, but one glance out at the storm sealed his resolution. From the strength of his grip, Amri wondered if he would have preferred it this way from the beginning.

I KNEW IT! WELCOME TO THE TEAM PERISS.

There’s coffee in the waiting room when you’re not in the active party and you can order a team jacket through HR.

Amri is a cave boy so he’s the one who finds a direction in Naia and Kylan’s doubts.

I guess that Amri has rock sense? I mean, there’s been bits where he’s talked about hearing the voice of sand but I didn’t remember whether that was something he had been doing before. But if so, cool, another clan specific ability for anyone wanting to make an trpg or something. Grottan have rock sense.

Amri feels that there’s water under the cave floor and deduces that the water streams to the cave from the Wellspring.

He tells Kylan and Onica to stay in the cave while he, Naia, and Periss head back out to the lake where the tree was.

“The firca definitely won’t be heard by the tree all the way from this cave!” Kylan protested. Amri put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Mountain water is full of minerals. You tasted them in the Wellspring. The minerals will have formed crystals around the underground rivers. Minerals like that will carry sound just fine. The clearer the better. That’s how the Grottan speak when we’re spread out among the caves.”

“But I don’t know if I can -- I’m not a Grottan --”

“That doesn’t matter. I believe in you!”

Aw frens.

And another Grottan power maybe?

But Amri tells Kylan to find a spot with good acoustics and play the song of life. Find the life still in the tree and awaken it so maybe Naia can heal it.

When Amri (with special guest Tavra), Naia, and Periss go back out into the storm, its gotten even worse. And it was already pretty bad!

They reach the lake with all the Dousan sitting around it not reacting to the storm or to them really.

Except for Erimon who asks them what the heck they’re doing.

“Could ask you the same thing!” Amri cried. “I thought you said the storm wouldn’t come here!”

Erimon grimaced. “Where are you going?”

“Into the lake. We’re going to revive the tree,” Periss said, pulling Erimon away in defiance. “And you’re not going to stop them.”

“No!��� Erimon shouted. He faced his brother. “Periss, listen to me! For once, just listen! The tree is dead. You have to let it go. This is out of our hands. There’s nothing more we can do except surrender to Thra’s will. Why can’t you understand this?”

“You may not be able to hear its song, but I do. I hear it in my dreams and in my nightmares. My own clan won’t believe me, so I brought someone who would!”

Oof. No wonder Periss is so prickly.

Erimon tries to convince Naia and Amri that diving into a lake could kill them.

“You could die down there, and for nothing.”

“If we stay up here, we’ll die anyway,” Amri said.

OH DANG!

Heh.

Anyway, Naia and Amri dive into the lake.

Its a very important two-person operation. Naia can breath underwater. Amri can see. They need both things.

And there’s a third thing that needs doing too.

Amri remembers from the last book that Kylan’s firca had driven off the spiders even before being refined into a firca. And Tavra is a spider. Amri can’t hear the song underwater because there’s water in his ears but Tavra can.

Glad you are with us, he thought to the Silverling.

Perhaps this spider body can be put to use, after all.

Frens.

But also, its pretty cool how Amri thought of a plan that used all of the skills the group has. Except Onica but she’s done her part.

Also, Amri, Naia, and Tavra are dreamfasting to communicate underwater without blubbing bubbles at each other.

Its been a minute so woo another cool application for dreamfasting.

Also also, Naia can swim FAST with her wings which are not nonadjacent to a fish’s fins.

Amri held his breath as Naia pumped her wings and plunged, powerfully driving them into the murky deep. When his lungs screamed for air, Naia breathed life into him, gills open like lace around her neck. Tavra caught a bubble, holding it under her legs like a smooth, clear opal.

The lake seemed endless. It had been dark above, but as they dived, the lightning of the storm dimmed to a dull flicker. The sounds of the storm, the drumming, earthshaking thunder, died away, and as it did, Amri heard the sound of a flute. Through the underground streams and water it sounded like the eerie song of a ghost -- transcendent and unending, calling out to something that might no longer be strong enough to hear. Surrounded by the song, it was as if they were floating through a dream.

This sequence would have been very hard to do for the show but how I would have liked to see it.

They reach the lake bottom where Amri starts digging through the mud with his feet trying to find any sign of life. And he does.

Something “ringing, softly moaning in answer to Kylan’s song” under think layers of mud, there’s a spot of green among the decomposing roots of the once-Great Tree.

A stubborn tree. Still alive even in just one part of the roots. Amazing.

No wonder the Dousan thought it dead. They can’t breath underwater so they couldn’t check this deep. And they don’t have healers like Naia so what could they do even if they had found the sign of life?

Good thing a diverse group of trouble-solving protagonists rolled into town.

Naia gets on that spot of green and tries healing the tree but runs into a complication.

It’s calling for someone else. I can’t do this alone.

You mean me? Can I help?

No, it’s...

Naia closed her eyes, focusing. She had a gift; he’d seen it before. To hear the songs of Thra, to dreamfast with creatures other than Gelfling. He put his hand on her shoulder, lungs aching for his next breath.

It’s asking for the Dousan, she said finally. She looked up at him. Its people. Periss, Erimon. We need them here, now, or this tree will die, and the storm will kill us all.

Aw, dang.

Anyone know where we can rustle up more Drenchen on short notice? Or does someone want to invent scuba gear like yesterday?

[thatwasthenightthingschanged]

I haven’t done one of these in quite a while now, but here’s finally the next part of my “The Taylor Swift song analysis series”! In which I, a German girl majoring in English, attempt to analyse or interpret Taylor’s songs to shed more light on a) her incredible song writing skills and b) songs that are generally very underrated and deserve more attention. (here’s the link to all my song analysis)

Today’s song is We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together (since I’m still doing the songs on RED in chronological order) and I’m rlly excited abt this because this song is so underrated but I absolutely love it! and I do think it’s actually pretty sad in the context of the whole album but just disguises the fact under a very pop-y melody (also, as always, a short psa that this  interpretation is extremely subjective meaning that’s just how I see the song! also that I’m no native speaker so I probably will not be able to get any cultural references in any of Taylor’s songs - but feel free to add them in a reblog :) )

(keep in mind, Taylor’s very much still talking about the relationship that she mentioned in songs like State Of Grace, Treacherous or All Too Well - meaning it’s about this toxic person she was with, when she threw caution out of the window)

“I remember when we broke up the first time, saying, ‘this is it, I've had enough,’ 'cause, like, we hadn't seen each other in a month when you said you needed ‘space’ (what?)” This is quite literal, the first time she broke up with that person she was so fed up with them because she didn’t get them. They hadn’t been able to meet for a month (aka her partner had enough ‘space’) and then when they finally met up again (which she was probably pretty excited about) they said, they needed even more space, which just doesn’t seem to make sense to her.

“then you come around again and say ‘baby, I miss you and I swear I'm gonna change, trust me’ “ So her partner basically broke up with HER because he needed said space, but then a bit later that person turned around and came back to her and said they were sorry for treating her this way, they realize their mistake and they promise not to repeat it. In context with ‘Babe’ I’d go as far to say that this also relates to that person cheating on her, then coming back and saying it was a one time thing and it’s never going to happen again. Taylor in this case forgave him and they were back together.

“remember how that lasted for a day?” this promise, however, turned out to be empty as that person treated her shitty again just a day later. this pretty much illustrates the dynamic between the two: her partner would mess up, she’d forgive him because she loved him so much, and then he messed up again, she forgave him, etc. it seems like she was more invested in the relationship than her partner was.

“I say, ‘I hate you,’ we break up, you call me, ‘I love you’ “ Again illustrating the dynamic of their relationship. this part is also a bit of a juxtaposition in my opinion because here HE says he loves her, yet based on the fact that she kept forgiving him and he kept messing up, she was the one who truly loved him and he just said he did but if he really loved her, he wouldn’t have treated her this way.

“we called it off again last night, but this time, I'm telling you, I'm telling you we are never, ever, ever getting back together. you go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me but we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together, like, ever“ Yes, this a pretty catchy line but for me it’s rather sad, considering that she kept seeing the best in her partner so many times, gave him so many chances, yet he still kept on disappointing her, cheating on her and treating her like shit. And apparently if she then ignored him/wouldn’t let him speak to her, he talked to her friends or his friends and tried to get them to convince Taylor to take him back. But right now she’s at a point where she says “Ok, been there, done that, this clearly isn’t gonna work out, no matter how many times you say you’ll change because you clearly never will and I clearly don’t mean half as much to you as you mean to me; I’m worth more than that”

“I'm really gonna miss you picking fights and me, falling for it, screaming that I'm right” another part of their rather toxic relationship: He picked fights with her over little things on purpose. To me it seems like he just searched for a good reason to break up with her. And instead of talking their problems out, they both were stoic, never admitted they were wrong so the distance between them grew even bigger (reminds me of Taylor’s ELLE article when she said she had to learn how to fight fair with the ones she loves).

“and you would hide away and find your peace of mind with some indie record that's much cooler than mine” Oh yes, here comes the cheating. So they would get into a fight (which he started, mind you) so that he wouldn’t have to feel bad for making out with another person because Taylor and he were “broken up”. He could of course also later use that excuse when apologizing to Taylor, saying “yeah, I did make out with another person, but we were broken up at that time, so it was okay for me to do that” which is a pretty messed up logic considering how often he did that. But of course, as Taylor, this at first might have made sense until it happened too often. It also turns around the victim-abuser dynamic and telling Taylor that she has no right to be upset about it, which is pretty messed up. Also the line about the indie record implies that he constantly told her her music wasn’t “good” because it was country and “ugh that’s so mainstream, how boring” and in one occasion apparently even hooked up with an indie artist (I assume?). So he had no respect for Taylor’s talent and just constantly talked her down instead of supporting her. Also notable how she made this song a pop song because country was already too mainstream for him, so she made the song even more mainstream by turning to pop and forcing him to listen to it wherever he goes.

“I used to think that we were forever, ever” Again, pretty sad if you think about it: She thought he was ‘the one’, that they would end up married and having kids but she was just crushed by the reality of him.

“and I used to say, ‘never say never’ “ She also used to give people as many chances as they’d like (which her partner really took advantage of) but this is over now since she has finally gotten to a breaking point.

“ugh, so he calls me up and he's like, ‘I still love you’ and I'm like, ‘I just- I mean, this is exhausting, you know? like, we are never getting back together, like, ever’ “ also pretty sad in my opinion simply because she’s now at a point where those three words mean nothing to her, she cannot believe him when he tells her he loves her. And it’s clearly taken a mental toll on her, she’s exhausted of getting ehr hopes up every time, thinking it will finally be different, only for him to smash them to the ground again (but at least she’s gotten the strength to finally leave this toxic relationship behind, as leaving is often extremely difficult in these situations)

[recentanimenews]

Made in Abyss: Dawn of the Deep Soul – Trials Make Love Stronger

I finished the first season of Made in Abyss three years and a week ago, commenting that while I ached to know what would happen next, a long rest was in order, so that I might recover from the emotional wounds throughout that first run, culminating in the shockingly brutal story of Mitty and Nanachi.

Turns out no amount of time would heal those wounds to the extent they wouldn’t be re-opened and—very soul freshly re-crushed—upon watching the continuation of the Abyss story. That’s because the deeper Riko, Reg, and Nanachi descend, the more acute and devastating the horrors they encounter.

This is the third of three Made in Abyss films; the first two were a retelling of the first season, while the third is a direct sequel As such, spoilers throughout.

Case in point: upon arriving at one of her mother’s favorite spots in all of the Abyss, the Garden of Flowers of Fortitude, they encounter one of Bondrewd’s delvers, the Umbra Hands, harvesting tissue from other delvers who have been infected by a parasite that not only feeds off you while you’re still alive, but feeds itself to you in order to keep you alive. Lovely!

Few anime do soaring vistas like Abyss, and there’s something just so otherworldly and dread-inducing about the sight of the Fifth Layer’s Sea of Corpses, along with Idofront, Bondrewd the Novel’s domain. But as cold and unyielding and inhospitable as the spinning ghost city seems on the outside, within resides one of the sweetest, warmest, most human souls they’ve yet encountered: an adorable little girl named Prushka.

Prushka is Bondrewd’s daughter (voiced by Minase Inori), who is initially suspicious of outsiders coming to help her dad when she thinks she should be enough. But once she meets Riko, Reg, and Nanachi, they open for her a whole new world of questions and information about the Surface (she was born in the Abyss).

It’s so strange to see Prushka acting so lovey-dovey with Bondrewd, perpetrator of countless acts of sickening biological crimes, especially since he and his Umbra Hands resemble evil robots. And yet that evil robot still has a strange gravitational pull Nanachi finds hard to resist. Nanachi can’t forgive Bondrewd, but something still draws them toward him. Nanachi was something of a child figure to him, after all, so Nanachi sees Prushka as a younger self.

Bondrewd has bad news for Riko: while she may have her mother’s White Whistle, only the person for whom the whistle was made can use it to activate the altar that will take her down to the Sixth Layer. He offers them accommodations to “think things over”, but there isn’t any doubt his intentions for them are about as far from harmless as they’re all far from the Surface.

Despite her cozy room, soon Riko wakes up alone, and upon exploring, finds that she’s trapped in a small area with the only exit being a stair Prushka warned will cause “strains of ascension” if climbed. When Riko attempts to climb them anyway, she loses all sense of touch and balance, grinds her baby molars away and falls down the stairs, gaining cuts here and there. But she hallucinates far worse: as the very concepts of what and where are gradually eaten away by white light.

Ultimately, the reason Bondrewd does anything all comes down to curiosity and the aspiration to reach the bottom of the Abyss and learn its infinite secrets, same as Riko. It’s just a matter of scope and scale. Riko has managed to retain her humanity throughout her descent. But while has the affable dad voice and general form of a man, there is simply nothing left of Bondrewd’s humanity.

After Nanachi offers to stay with him and help him continue his research in exchange for Riko and Reg’s safety, Bondrewd tells them that, uh, unfortunately, he’s already tossed Reg to his Umbra Hands, who restrain him, slice off his right arm (along with Incinerator) and start collecting his bodily fluids. That’s when Riko, who was helped up to the upper level by Prushka, intervenes, and Prushka learns the truth about her father for the first time.

With Bondrewd showing his true horrific colors loudly and proudly, Nanachi, the most experienced with how he operates, comes up with a plan to take him out. This involves luring him into a nest of giant seven-tailed scorpions, trying to infect him with parasite larvae, and finally Reg crushing his body with a giant boulder.

Naturally, Bondrewd praises both Reg and Nanachi every time they toss a new tactic at him, saying things like “wonderful” and “I’m surprised.” After all, Nanachi is one of the creations of which of which he is most proud, one who unlike Mitty and the others was able to receive the “Blessing” of the Abyss rather than fall victim to the Curse. You’d could mistake it for fatherly pride if, again, Bondrewd had a shred of humanity. But his willingness to offer love and pain and suffering in equal measure disqualifies him as both from being either a parent or a human.

None of the tactics against him end up working, because the Umbra Hand who escorted Prushka simply takes the mask off of the crushed Bondrewd and places it on his head, thus transforming into a new, untouched Bondrewd. Turns out all of his Umbra Hands are him—and his immortality is tied to a relic called Zoaholic. The fight ends for now, and Bondrewd returns home with Prushka.

If Zoaholic didn’t make Bondrewd insane, the act of splitting his soul and essence into multiple bodies still removed what was left of his empathy or humanity, which is why he ends up having Prushka cruelly vivisected just like all of the other orphan children before her. He’s satisfied her experiences with Reg, Riko, and Nanachi helped “perfect” her, and this is the natural next step. She is never told this would happen, and never asked if it’s okay.

Her body is marked with “X’s” to signify the parts that will be cut away and discarded (most of it) until all that is left is a mass of “fleshy curse repellant” to be placed within a suitcase-sized cartridge. It is in this way that Bondrewd staves off the curse; using the pain and suffering of still technically-living children as his strength.

It’s truly skin-crawling, horrible, horrible stuff, and even though I had a reasonable suspicion that Prushka was doomed to a Mitty-like fate, I was still not ready to see even a little of that fate carried out, nor would I ever be. No one would!

By the Riko, Reg, and Nanachi return to Idofront to rescue her they’re way too late, while the sight of the “processing” room brings back Nanachi’s memories of assisting with said processing. When Bondrewd arrives, Riko and Nanachi they buy time for Reg, who hooks himself up to Idofront’s power supply and ends up rebooting in Berserk Mode.

Bondrewd tells Riko that his own White Whistle is the result of sacrificing his own body and soul, and that all White Whistles are made in this way—with a willing human sacrifice, not carved stone.

It’s then when Berserk-Reg arrives and fights on the same level as Bondrewd, ultimately blasting a huge sphere-shaped chunk out of Idofront. He lands in a pit of Mittys—material for Bondrewd’s cartridges, and we’re reminded of all those lights on the wall representing their lives are labeled: he remembers the name of every child, their unique qualities, and how cute they were. Shudder…

As Bondrewd and Reg are locked in an epic battle, we hear Prushka’s disembodied voice as she recounts her life with Bondrewd, starting as a failed subject. He decided to raise her as his daughter, gave her Meinya as a pet, and gave her a fun and happy childhood, ultimately culminating in her helplessly watching as pieces of her are removed one by one on the operating table.

We hear Prushka because she’s now a cartridge that Bondrewd is currently using in his fight, and ends up being his last cartridge. Even after what he did to her, she still wants to help her dad achieve his dreams—even if it means helping him fight against Reg, Riko, and Nanachi.

Thus aided by Bondrewd, Reg can’t defeat him with one arm, which is why he was buying time for Riko to retrieve his other arm. Even disconnected from his body, she’s able to aim it at Bondrewd and fire it, blasting him to pieces.

As this is happening, Prushka pleads with everyone not to fight, because they’re all going to have adventures together. An image of that dream appears in the climax of the battle, and is pretty much the most heartbreaking goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.

Then Bondrewd falls to the ground, finally beaten, and Nanachi stand over him. True to form, Bondrewd isn’t bitter about losing; on the contrary: he’s never been happier to find someone with stronger aspirations, will, and love defeat him. It means they, not him, are worthy of exploring the greater depths of the Abyss, and all the curses and blessings therein.

Riko holds the spent cartridge of what’s left of Prushka, simply red liquid that spills everywhere, and very understandably begins to bawl in absolute despair. But then she notices an object lying in the puddle of liquid: a White Whistle. Turns out Prushka’s soul willingly became the sacrifice necessary for Riko. Now her dream of going on adventures together can be realized.

With that, Riko gains the means to make her Last Dive, along with Reg (who learned a great deal about what his relic body can do) and Nanachi (who found a degree of closure in her vendetta with Bondrewd). Bondrewd, oddly enough, is still alive (after a fashion), but no longer a threat to them, and indeed is happy to see them off as they enter the “elevator” that will take them to the Sixth Layer, that much closer to Riko’s Mom, whatever’s become of her.

Quite appropriately, the end credits pull double duty as an illustration of that elevator descending ever deeper  into the Abyss, accompanied by an achingly gorgeous song that is a collab between MYTH & ROID and Kevin Penkin. Penkin, of course, also contributed the score and outdoes himself in the task; his music has been and continues to be a vital piece of what makes Abyss so unique an special.

It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to end this in less than 1500 words, but whatever; this was basically four episodes of the anime comprising a Fifth Layer arc, enshrining Bondrewd the Novel as one of anime’s all-time most monstrous and compelling villains, exploring the ways ambition can mutate “love” into a heartlessly destructive force.

It also ably reinforced Abyss’ uncanny ability to tear its viewers’ hearts and souls to bloody shreds before painstakingly sewing them back together with delicate threads of hope. And with a second season in the early stages of production, the story of Riko, Reg, and Nanachi is far from over.

By: magicalchurlsukui

[fipindustries]

list of comics i made so far

i already shared the list of all the novels i tried to write throughout my llife so i see no reason why not to do the same with the comics i tried to work on. no i should clarify, with my lists of novels there was a clear cut distinction between what was a novel and a short story so to parse one from the other was an easy task. it should be known that i wrote hundreds of shorts stories that i havent shared with anyone. now a similar situation occurs with my comics, i have done hundreds upon hundreds of little comics, short jokes, little skits and short lived strips through my life, so in order to give this list some weight and not make it longer than the bible the criteria i used was that it had to be something i did on a regular basis or that tells a self contained story with a beggining middle and end.

now without further ado, lets begin!

spike Vanderville (age 7)

you can tell i was way more into comics than i was into novels from a young age. done with pen and folded paper, it was the story about a young kid called spike, whose design was heavily inspired by bradley from sticking around, who had magical powers which allowed him to manipulate reality. it was a mix of harry potter and a series of illustrates short stories that came in a magazine in argentina. his best friend was a scarecrow with a pumpkin head that he had brought to life, his archnemesis was a fat bully.

curiously enough i was so passionate about this project even though i had no idea what i was doing and no talent that i actually did like three full colored issues of it. my family was really proud of me. sadly those comics are completly lost to time

andrew and the monkey (age 10)

this was the classical story about a boy and his best friend the talking animal. one page comedy strips done in pen and paper. nothing too clever, just a way for me to try lame jokes mostly stolen from spongebob squarepants. not much else to it. i tried to do like a revamp in 2014 but it was short lived, as you can see the jokes didnt get any less lame

FIP industries (age 17)

mostly done in digital. yes as you can see fip is something that has followed me my whole life in quite the variety of mediums. there were as a matter of fact multiple attempts to make this comic a real thing but time and again they would peter off as i saw that my skill was just not up to the task. i think i have talked more than enough about fip industries on this blog, one interesting thing is that if you follow the link you will come across a lot of proto ideas that i had before they cemented and took their definite shape in the novel (and even after the novel i kept retconning and retooling things over and over again, fip industries is an ongoing thing that will probably last my entire lifetime)

Disregarding Reality I (age 20)

the first iteration of disregarding reality, a humorous strip done in pencil and paper, a fairly short lived affair, lasting no more than 3 months. the entire premise of the comic was an MRA activist and a feminist live together, they are friends, they argue a lot. remember 2013 guys? back when this whole politics bullshit truly kicked off online? this was before gamer gate, mind you. but by that point i had seen more than enough of it on tumblr and i was like “someone should do some scathing commentary with wit and penache” and that someone had to be me. mainly inspired by commics like f@nboys and el goonish hive and a thousand billion others that were so popular back in those halcyon days.

i got bored of it pretty quickly and it wouldnt be until three years later than i would finally decide to re-start the project but until then...

Strangers in the forest (age 21)

here comes a rather productive era in my ouvre, ink and paper, based on a short story i wrote, its about an eldritch monster pretending to be human and a ghost girl, killed by her father. they have a dispute because the monster wants to eat the corpse of the girl but the ghost doesnt want to give up her bones because its the one thing that tethers her to the mortal plane. they eventually resolve their dispute. by this point i was actually, unironically trying my best to do comics which i felt looked professional.

Song of a nightmare (age 21)

another one based on a short story i wrote. ink and paper, a private detective wakes up in the middle of the night and sees a mermaid lying in bed next to him. he spends most of the comic trying to figure out how the hell is this possible. still one of my favourite ones and certainly one of my family’s and friends favourites as well. a rather poetic tale, strongly inspired by argentinian fiction and their propensity towards magical realism, i was reading a lot of cortazar back then.

Aika (age 21)

as you can tell i was on a fucking roll that year. ink and paper, this was a story based upon a simple and basic idea that i had in my mind for years and years. i always liked the concept behind the movie “the kid” where bruce willis mysteriously comes across himself as a kid. so of course one day i came up with the idea, what if you recieved a visit from your future self... but she was a woman?

this is probably the most aggresively trans story i ever wrote in my life, it is literally about a guy realizing they are trans and breaking down over it. here is the giant kicker, i did not realize at all what i was doing. i was completly unaware of what was going on here, i was still deep deep in the closet and not even realizing i was there. it really is astounding the honesty and the rawness with which i wrote this comic and it went all over my head. a perfect example of “im such a great ally lol”

oh also there is time travel i guess. my main impetus (beyond whatever my subconcious was forcing me to do) was my desire to make a complete clusterfuck of a story, i was a huge fan of homestuck, i had read fleek and demon, i wanted to do my own take on a hypercomplicated time travel puzzle plot. other things came out on top of it but i didnt noticed them. fucking hilarious

Hello Agatha (age 21)

a comedic strip about a wacky pixie dream girl having wacky adventures with her wacky friends, one of which is a man with a toilet for a head. what a gut buster, what a knee slapper!

there is not much to say about this one, wacky surreal comedy was always my favourite and so time and again i would try my hand at it but it is surprisingly hard to do!

The /co/ ventures! (age 20 - age25)

an ongoing project done in multiple mediums. i think i said more than enough about this in here and here. it was me practiscing comics, practiscing my humor and adding my tiny grain of sand to the 4chan culture. i am proud to say these comics were actually very well liked there and that i would be recognized without a name or signature of any kind, just on the strength of my style.

the vest kind of madness (age 22)

probably one of the projects in which i put the biggest amount of effort to make it look professional. traditional inks and digital colors. a crossover that i cant believe never happened in comics considering how obvious it is. Rac Shade, the changing man and delirium of the endless, the two flagship vertigo characters associated with madness. clearly a match made in heaven.

to this day im flabbergasted i seem to be the only one to think of this.

Disregarding Reality II (age 23)

another work where i have already spilled rivers of bytes explaining my thought process behind it. after having a no good, terrible, very bad day, finding my self aimless and without purpose, deep in denial and depression, i decided to give my self a big project to have something to get me out of bed every day. these three guys came from the depths of my mind to save me.

this time leaning a lot more on silly humor and surrealism than political commentary, still insanely proud of how much i managed to make this last, almost three years, well over 200 pages! and in here i found the inspiration and the creative energy to tackle all sorts of diverse projects of which we are about to see all about.

Mama Bird (age 24)

my masterpiece.

by far the best comic i ever did. a kid with a bird for a mom. hilarious, touching, heartbreaking. it was a concept that i had come up with when i was 21. back then it was supposed to be exclusively a humorous comic strip but then i found a dramatic angle for the story and that was when everything clicked into place. that was when i realized this was a comic i had to do. and i did it. it took me five months but it was well worth it. still insanely proud of this one

Soft boys (age 25)

a weird experimental little story where i decided to sit down and deconstruct one of the most popular superpowers. super elasticity. more akin to me just mashing my toys against each other than me trying to tell a serious story. i am actually really happy with some of the art here and some of the sequences presented. particularly the final one where a brick joke twenty pages in the making finally pays off.

Hexen Snatch (age 25)

a semi spinoff to my novel FIP industries, we focus on a side character that managed to survive after the events of the novel and how they’ll manage to survive further beyond that. insanely soaked by the magical world of pact by widbow i wanted desperatly to share my own take on magic, every page is accompanied by a little text where i expand upon the lore and the way magic is supposed to work on this world. i really like the prose on those snippets and the ideas they work almost more that the comic itself with which i was not happy at all when i was working on it. i didnt like the character design, i didnt like how the art in general was coming out, i didnt like the pacing of the story or how superficially we were getting to expore this world in the comic proper. i had to take a very long hiatus just to accumulate the will to finish the comic and once i did i feel it really petered off without much of a satisfying payoff.

on some level i blame the exhaustion and frustration that i came out of this comic with for the fact that i ended up quitting disregarding reality soon afterwards.

Maxplosive (age 26)

another project that has followed me across multiple mediums. came up with an idea for a videogame back in 2015. saved it on the back pocket for a while, used it as a story within a story on my novel fan.tastic, practisced a couple of animations with the characters and eventually decided that, if my skills at videogame making were not enough, i had at least more than poven myself as a comic artist so maybe that was the definitive medium in which this idea would have to exist.

the original idea was to tell the story in two parts, the first half would introduce the character and the videogame as if the comic was a playthrough of the game. all fun and childlike and innocent. then the second half was meant to explore the life of the main character as an adult, how being “a videogame protagonist” had ruined her body, her mental health and her life. i tried all sorts of weird stuff with the format here, using reciclable assets, static camera angles and generally presenting the whole thing as if it was a videogame.

sadly the project got too big for my breaches, i was fucking exhausted back then, swamped with a bunch of other projects, my job, other responsabilities, unsatisfied with the story and with no idea where to take it. eventually i got tired, decided to skip a day, then the day became a week and then the week became a month and by then i had to face the facts, i was just no longer able to continue the comic. and so i quit not only maxplosive but disregarding reality all together.

i still did the occasional comic here and then but it wouldnt be until the very end of 20-fucking-20 that i was finally inspired to tackle a new project, my newest one, my last one....

Lapsarian (age 27)

an interesting experiment, i decided to do the whole comic in one sit and then post it chapter by chapter on a weekly basis. a surprising result of this was that i managed to do in one month the same amoung of pages that would have taken me 5 months back when i started disregarding reality, is good to see that after al this time i still got it.

took me a while to get the hang of it again and find my own style once more but once i armed up it was smooth sailing for 40 pages all the way to the end. but what is this comic even about?

its... weird, with full disclosure and no shame, it is mostly a fetish story about big lizard creatures commiting vore. the milkman had already shown me that i could do those types of stories and no lighting would come from the heavens to strike me down so i said, why not as a comic? i like to think that beyond the fetish content it is still a decent story in its own right, an interesting feedback that i got from this is that people are suprised how earnest it is, one saying something like “this is the best pitch for a fetish that i was never interested in”

Conclussion:

looking back on this im surprised, turns out i was a lot more prolific and working a lot more regularly than i expected, in here are documented ten years of creative output that never seems to wane. it was fun to do the roundabout trip and see how my style, my technice and generally my work ethic evolved through the years. another nice thing to see is the multiple formats, the multiple tools and mediums i experimented with, i find myself constantly trying new things, new methods, new angles, new interesting ideas for how to make a comic (without even getting into what to make a comic about).

something i always knew about myself was that drawing is a fundamental part of who i am, it is something that just cant be taken away from me and that will always be a part of my life one way or the other, is good to see it so plainly, in black and white, on this list. here goes for what i might be able to do in the future

[sometimesiwritetoo]

Thoughts on The Musical Themes In FF7 Remake

So, some thoughts on the musical themes in the remake and the og. Please note that I do not have any qualifications to speak as an authority on music. I didn’t study it in school. I’m not classically trained. I just played in band and have had a growing interest in music and music theory for about a year or so now and have been studying on my own. Take everything I write with a grain of salt, I fully admit I can be wrong.

I’ve talked about this on Twitter and Discord. But let me just summarize what I think happened originally: during the development of the og Uematsu was working alongside with the development on the music. He’s told the story and what emotional beats the directors wanted. So he writes all the music for the og. The main theme for the game is shared with Cloud and it basically summarizes Cloud’s entire journey split into parts.

There’s the main part of Cloud’s theme. Those first five 13 notes that you hear all over the game. They appear in various pieces of music throughout the game including A Tower, A Promise. Which appeared in the og under a different title. A Tower, A Promise happens during the promise with Tifa. And in the og a similar song plays when everyone’s escaped Midgar and are discussing what they’ll do next. I think it’s used to represent when Cloud’s heading out on a journey. So his journey to Midgar as a teen, and his journey to find Sephiroth as an adult. You also hear Cloud’s theme as the overworld theme. It also plays in the minor key when something is off about Cloud’s memories, eventually reducing down to the main interval which is a seventh. The seventh interval is one of the most dissonant intervals in western music. Thus I think it’s really clever for Uematsu to basically hide that in Cloud’s theme the way he did.

Interestingly enough The Price of Strength does contain a reference to Zack. I noticed it from the beginning part of “Flowers Blooming in the Slums” which contains a guitar section only in CC and lacks it throughout future appearances. It also sounds like that little riff is found on a few other tracks featured in the CC soundtrack. Though, to be fair, it does sound like there is a reference to Cloud in the chords or harmonization. But I haven’t gone that deep into it because I don’t have the time. It’s appropriately used during the flashback with Claudia, where it’s actually part of her theme. But it also appears after Elmyra asks Cloud to leave. I think the name of the song is appropriate. This is the price of strength. It’s a lost mother. Or a friend who died out in the middle of nowhere, giving none of his loved ones, including his girlfriend, the closure they need. The Price of Strength seems to be used to illustrate what Cloud, and Zack, have both lost. And it’s fitting that it’s lifted from the CC soundtrack. CC was more about loss, arguably, then the og. Which did have loss, but didn’t feature it as a main theme in the way CC arguably did and thus didn’t have a musical representation for it. But I need to see how it’s used more.

The game is connected to the compilation with a track called “The Promised Land” which opened up the Advent Children movie. The Promised Land plays after the first bombing mission and is an early sign that this game is part of the compilation in a whole as this music doesn’t exist, as far as I can see, in the og. Though give what’s already been discussed, the inclusion of this is only done as an early example that this game is importing compilation themes not just in the music but the story.

Tifa’s theme gets peppered throughout Sector 7, and it’s used about how one would expect. Though it does seem to also represent home for Cloud as it basically gets repurposed for the track “Home is where the Heart is” it’s a bit more ominous and sounds like it’s being played in a minor key. This plays after the plate falls. The minor key is pretty often used for darker moods, to the point that it can be a shortcut. Which is used to effectively show Tifa’s sorrow at the destruction of her home, both in Sector 7 and 7th Heaven.

Sector 5 has Hollow Skies, an instrumental of Hollow. Which really highlights how similar to Crisis Core the song is. Not only does it have Zack’s motif peppered everywhere, but it plays in the sector Zack often visited while in the slums. And it’s interesting that you can basically transition between Hollow Skies and Aerith’s home, which also plays her theme. It’s almost like he’s in everywhere but Aerith’s home, which I don’t think he really spent much time in. Which probably is intentional. If they’re trying to reference Zack in Sector 5 and in certain themes from his game then intentionally not referencing him in Aerith’s theme shows that break*. Aerith has had to move on. She’s sent her last letter. As far as she knows he just got tired of her.

*That being said, when you visit Aerith’s house for the first time listen for a clarinet as she opens the door. It could just be embellishment. Or it could be a reference to something. I genuinely could not tell.

Now, onto Hollow. A song that I don’t think is romantic. First of all Zack’s leitmotiff is pretty prominently featured in the song. And second of all the lyrics are pretty sparse. Which is interesting considering the Final Fantasy as a whole, and hell the VII compilation, aren’t afraid of the ur typical pop song. Not to mention info on the song has been sparse to say the least. With the only info I’ve been able to find is that the writer imagined Cloud in rain or something. Not sure if nuance is being lost in the translations but there ya go. The instrumental part of the song is used as a theme for Sector 5, and the full song appears at the end when (spoiler warning) Zack appears. I think just by it’s use it’s meant to represent Zack. And that’s probably why info on it is so sparse. Zack was a spoiler in part one, and if they plan on expanding on him then saying anything more about the song can be a spoiler. I’m interested in seeing how they’ll use Hollow in the future if it is meant to represent Zack.

There doesn’t actually seem to be any really romantic song in the game. The only one that I’ve actually confirmed the developers seem to have said might be romantic is the song Stand Up. Which the developers thought Japanese audiences would find cool, but the localization team warned might be thought of as sexual or romantic. Especially when you consider the way Cloud and Andrea dance. But there’s nothing that really solidifies a romantic connection. Cloud and Aerith get their themes melded together while they’re in Aerith’s old room at Shinra. But it’s not romantic considering the information revealed does impact the main journey. It also lacks the romantic B section of Cloud’s theme. Given how dedicated Uematsu is to his own themes, and how committed Hamauzu has been in respecting musical history, I doubt we’ll get a straight up romantic theme for Cloud without that B section. Which, for reference, was rearranged for strings in the og and became “Interrupted By Fireworks”.