#if only henriette was here!!!! we would have the entire family!!!!!!!!!

[moe-broey]

This is like. A family photo. To me.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Do you think the rumors of a romance/marriage between Robespierre and Eleonore are true? Or is there any hard evidence at all?

”Hard evidence” I suppose would be statements from Robespierre and/or Éléonore themselves that the two were a thing. Such things would however appear to not exist. For Robespierre, the only time he is even recorded to have mentioned Éléonore that I’m aware of is when writing to her father while on a trip to Arras in the fall of 1791 and asking him to say hello from him to the rest of his family:

Please present the testimonies of my tender friendship to Madame Duplay, to your demoiselles, and to my little friend. Robespierre to Maurice Duplay, October 16 1791

Present the testimonies of my tender and masterful attachment to your ladies, whom I earnestly desire to embrace, as well as our little patriot.  Robespierre to Maurice Duplay, November 17 1791

As can be seen from the letters, there’s nothing here suggesting he thought anything in particular about Éléonore. But it’s also unknown if the two were even a thing at this point, considering they hadn’t known each other for even half a year.

As for Éléonore, she hasn’t left behind any written material at all that I’m aware of, nor do we possess anything written to her. This just leaves us with contemporary claims regarding the two. Below are those I’ve been able to find, cited in chronological order:

[Robespierre’s] host's daughter passed for his wife and had a sort of empire over him.  Causes secrètes de la révolution du 9 au 10 thermidor (1794) by Joachim Vilate, page 16

It has been rumored that [Éléonore] had been Robespierre's mistress. I think I can affirm she was his wife; according to the testimony of one of my colleagues, Saint-Just had been informed of this secret marriage, which he had attended.  Mémoires d’un prêtre regicide (1829) by Simon-Edme Monnel, page 337-338

Madame Lebreton, a sweet and sensitive young woman, said, blushing: “Everyone assures that Eugénie [sic] Duplay was Robespierre’s mistress.” “Ah! My God! Is it possible that that good and generous creature should have so degraded herself?” I was aghast. “Listen,” cried Henriette, “don’t judge on appearances. The unhappy Eugénie was not the mistress, but the wife of the monster, whom her pure soul decorated with every virtue; they were united by a secret marriage of which Saint-Just was the witness.”  Souvernirs de 1793 et 1794 par madame Clément, Née Hémery (1832) by Albertine Clément-Hémery

Madame Duplay had three [sic] daughters: one married the conventionnel Le Bas; another married, I believe, an ex-constituent; the third, Éléonore, who preferred to be called Cornélie, and who was the eldest, was, according to what people pleased themselves to say, on the point of marrying my brother Maximilien when 9 Thermidor came. There are in regard to Éléonore Duplay two opinions: one, that that she was the mistress of Robespierre the elder; the other that she was his fiancée. I believe that these opinions are equally false; but what is certain is that Madame Duplay would have strongly desired to have my brother Maximilien for a son-in-law, and that she forget neither caresses nor seductions to make him marry her daughter. Éléonore too was very ambitious to call herself the Citizeness Robespierre, and she put into effect all that could touch Maximilien’s heart. But, overwhelmed with work and affairs as he was, entirely absorbed by his functions as a member of the Committee of Public Safety, could my older brother occupy himself with love and marriage? Was there a place in his heart for such futilities, when his heart was entirely filled with love for the patrie, when all his sentiments, all his thoughts were concentrated in a sole sentiment, in a sole thought, the happiness of the people; when, without cease fighting against the revolution’s enemies, without cease assailed by his personal enemies, his life was a perpetual combat? No, my older brother should not have, could not have amused himself to be a Celadon with Éléonore Duplay, and, I should add, such a role would not enter into his character. Besides, I can attest it, he told me twenty times that he felt nothing for Éléonore; her family’s obsessions, their importunities were more suited to make feel disgust for her than to make him love her. The Duplays could say what they wanted, but there is the exact truth. One can judge if he was disposed to unite himself to Madame Duplay’s eldest daughter by something I heard him say to Augustin: “You should marry Éléonore.”  “My faith, no,” replied my younger brother.  Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1834) page 90-91

My eldest sister had been promised to Robespierre. Memoirs of Élisabeth Lebas (written around 1844)

The eldest of the Duplay daughters, who Robespierre wanted to marry, was called Éléonore. Robespierre allowed himself to be cared for, but he was not in love.  Notes historiques sur la Convention nationale, le Directoire, l’Empire et l’exil des votants (1895) by Marc Antoine Baudot, page 41

All the historians assert that [Robespierre] carried out an intrigue with the daughter of Duplay, but as the family physician and constant guest of that house I am in a position to deny this on oath. They were devoted to each other, and their marriage was arranged; but nothing of the kind alleged ever sullied their love.   Recollections of a Parisian (docteur Poumiès de La Siboutie) under six sovereigns, two revolutions, and a republic (1789-1863) (1911)

I personally believe in the version reported by Élisabeth Duplay and Joseph Souberbielle here (that is, that Robespierre and Éléonore were unofficially engaged and nothing more) since they were the ones to be in a position to actually know. The account of Charlotte Robespierre, who I suppose also was in this position, I’m dismissing due to her obvious jealousy of the Duplays. Plus, she’s done so many other shady things that lying about an engagement is honestly the least I expect from her at this point (and she lied about her own so…)

[hphmmatthewluther]

Bringing Good Tidings, Part 2: Childermass Goes Awry

Here's my first part of this collab between me and @endlessly-cursed ! Apologies for the slight delay! Continuing from her last post, we rejoin Lachlann and Henriette as strange goings-on begin to threaten the holiday...

(Featuring ocs from @endlessly-cursed , @camillejeaneshphm , and @that-scouse-wizard )

The next few days passed with much merriment from those in attendance, though Lachlann continued to worry about the nagging feeling that he was about to be caught off guard by something. As he mingled with the other guests, he was able to pass off any of his nervous glances as “Serf’s Intuition”, which always got a polite laugh from the other guests. But, of course, there was one person he couldn’t keep it hidden from. His wife, Mathilde, looked up at him in a way that only someone who’d studied his entire biology to know how best to poison him could know.

“What is it?” she asked at one point late on the 27th of December, the children already in bed by now (if not asleep, at least in their bedroom). “Is it about the Lord of Misrule business in a couple of days? I doubt you of all people would find it too humiliating, you always have been quite good at dismissing any funny looks.”

“It’s not that.” Lachlann said bluntly, shaking his head for a moment before shuffling closer. “And it’s not even about who that Lord of Misrule is going to be…if anything, I wish that were the explanation…”

“But it’s not, is it?” Mathilde raised an eyebrow at her husband. “You don’t get nervous when dealing with Betwixt. More…mildly irritated.”

“Can you blame me? They cursed our bloodline because of what happened back then…and whenever it comes up I try to tell them how I tried to find another way, but…”

Mathilde placed her hand on his shoulder. “You really can be quite stubborn sometimes. It would take a miracle to get Betwixt to like you, so I suggest moving on. Even they’ve learnt to do that, from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh yeah, that Spaniard woman they married. I honestly can’t believe they settled down after the strop they pulled when Hen- what?”

Mathilde pointed to the woman standing in the door, who had a friendly smile on her face as if recognising Lachlann’s utter embarrassment. “You are somewhat right, Lam.” Henriette began, walking forward and sitting down with the other two. “Betwixt never was one for mortal traditions…or monogamy. Still, they took the time they needed, met a nice immortal, and now they’ve got a family. In fact, I hear that Lady Sancha is expecting her 4th child, hence why Betwixt is only coming for one day.”

“Oh, how lovely for them!” Mathilde exclaimed, Lachlann detecting no amount of her normal snark. “The child must be due soon, in that case.”

“Quite soon, I imagine so, yes.” Henriette confirmed. “Seeing them will be a wonderful change from the routine of these feasts…not to mention tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me.” Mathilde chuckled, looking over at the corridor that led to their children’s room. “How do your children deal with it? I think Caitílin is just about growing out of being fully terrified by it now, like Sam and Simone are, and Fèlix is still too young to fully understand what’s happening, bless him.”

Henriette smiled as Mathilde recounted their children. “I’d say it’s the same with us, yes. It’s always interesting to see who tries to act all tough and unafraid and who still voices their fears. Speaking of, we ought to get our sleep if we want to be ready for the Mass tomorrow. Still, it’s only for one day. How bad could it be?”

Lachlann bit his tongue and refused to comment on how dangerous it was to ask questions like that. “I suppose we’ll see. Goodnight, Henriette.”

Henriette made her way back to her room, where her husband Frederick was already sleeping. She didn’t blame him, considering how restless the children could get during Childermass. She laid down next to him, shuffling close. As she closed her eyes, she found herself thinking about Lachlann and Mathilde. To say they weren’t a traditional couple was something of an understatement, after all, he was a former serf and she was a former assassin who’d been tasked with killing him. They talked and acted like all the other couples in attendance, of course, but then there were moments when they’d mention what happened during the Mage Wars, and it was obvious how it had given them such a different perspective. They seemed almost untouchable, seeing as most other nobles were terrified of this new clan, too afraid to try to interfere with their matters. This was where Henriette’s mind settled as she drifted off: that her role in maintaining a noble family was one thing, but to get one started was an entirely different beast.

***

The morning silence was broken by the sounds of bickering from the next room. Lachlann leant forward, gently moving Mathilde’s arm from his side, giving her a brief kiss on the forehead. “I’ll handle it, darling.”

Mathilde hummed in relief, trailing her hand down his chest as she settled back in the bed. “Bless you, Lam.” she whispered, Lachlann smiling for a moment before getting dressed and heading out into the other room. Inside, he instinctively took a head count of his children. Caitílin, the oldest, was currently trying to force Fèlix, still very much an infant, into the arms of Sam, the second oldest. Simone, meanwhile, the second youngest, was seemingly content to watch this play out. Lachlann took a seat next to her, waiting for the others to notice him.

“Morning, Daddy.” Simone said, smiling up at him in that way all siblings do when they’re the one not in trouble.

“Morning, sweetie. What’s all the fuss about?” Lachlann whispered back. Simone simply chuckled and pointed to the others.

“It’ll be good for you!”

“I have no clue what I’m doing!”

“Time to learn, then! You’re inheriting the Line, after all.”

“Line, Line!” Fèlix laughed, clearly enjoying the rocking motion, before looking up and seeing “Daddy!”

Caitílin and Sam looked up and finally noticed their father, both stepping back leaving Fèlix staggering in the middle for a moment before Lachlann caught him, picking him up and holding him.

“All up and early, I see. Cait, didn’t your mother say it was your job today to look after your brother?”

“But why? If I’m not inheriting the Line, surely I shouldn’t have those responsibilities!” She said, sounding out the longer words in a way that suggested they weren’t originally hers.

“But I don’t know how to do all of it!” Sam pleaded.

“Neither do I, but you have to do it anyway.” Caitílin said, as if that ended the matter, her face dropping when she saw Lachlann’s expression, which made it very clear that it didn’t.

Lachlann cleared his throat. “Here, Sam. I’d like you to take your brother over to your mother’s room and she’ll get you something to eat. Simone can help you. Can you do that for me?” 

Sam thought out the process in his head, before nodding. “Yep! I can do that!” Simone looked over and nodded as well.

“Excellent. Now, Caitílin, out here please.” Lachlann said, pointing to the balcony overlooking the snow-covered fields. The youngest three Doherty children looked at each other, shrugged, and left the two in the room. 

They walked over to the balcony, Caitílin sighing as she leant against the wall. “I’m the only one who can see over the wall, the others need me to lift them up.” she said, proudly.

Lachlann smiled at her, before looking out over the fields. “Cait, where’d you hear about all this line stuff?”

She shrugged, tracing a pattern in the snow that had fallen onto the very edge of the wall. “Dunno. One of the other children at the feasts was talking about how since he’s the oldest and a man he gets to inherit the Line of his family.”

Lachlann nodded, understanding perfectly. “And you thought that meant we’d be giving this “Line” to Sam instead.”

Caitílin looked up at him. “Well, aren’t you?! You need a strong line to keep the family going, and that means choosing someone suitable. Well, I’m far more capable at most things than Sam, and I actually want to do it!”

Lachlann shook his head. “Cait, you do realise what a Line is, right? It’s a continued legacy going all the way back through noble families, all the history and betrayal and fighting.” He traced a line in the snow, all along the windowsill. Then, at one end of the line, he put a very tiny dot.  “We…don’t really have a Line yet. Your mother and I are the first Dohertys. That’s what you and Sam have been bickering about.”

Caitílin leant over, staring at the little dot in the snow. “...That’s our Line? That’s all it is.”

Lachlann nodded. “Pretty much, yeah. Not so important now, right?”

She shrugged, leaning back from the wall. “I guess not. Can we get breakfast?”

He smiled, taking his daughter by the hand. “Of course. Come on, let’s go and find the others.”

They left the room only to hear more yelling from the others, though this time it was not bickering.

“Mum, Dad! Look! It’s the Lord of Misrule!” came the yelling.

“On Childermass?” Caitílin asked, confused. Lachlann, however, looked more afraid. 

“Cait…don’t let go of my hand.”

***

For Henriette and Frederick, the morning seemed oddly quiet. She’d been expecting more arguments between Juliana and Denefigu. But no, there was nothing. At least not until there was a loud knocking at the door. Frederick shuffled in his sleep, clearly assuming it was one of the kids, but it was far too heavy for that. Henriette moved out of bed and got dressed quickly before opening the door, seeing someone who definitely was not one of her children. They were dressed in an incredibly odd costume, consisting of a large green overcoat, matching stockings, a bright gold and silver-covered shirt, and an olive wreath wrapped around a large jester-like hat. It could only be the Lord of Misrule, and that meant…

“Betwixt?” Henriette asked, surprised, watching them breathing heavily as if they had run all the way here. 

The Monarch of the Changelings looked up at her, nodding. “A-Apologies…M-Merry Christmas, I…I wish I could say I’m here early for a good reason.”

“I’ll say. It’s Childermass, you know, the day when all the kids are hiding, hoping Herod’s ghost doesn’t come back and get them.” Henriette explained.

“Yes, that’s what I mean.” Betwixt said. “But that’s Catholic tradition. While that and the Fae sometimes are intertwined…and by that I mean they stole from us and our worshippers….sometimes there are differences. Childermass is one of them, and it means that we have to go now.”

Henriette nodded, suddenly aware of how deafening the silence was. “Explain, Betwixt. If something has happened to my children…”

“Your children will be fine, I’m sure…provided we hurry and deal with this as quickly as we can and get them back inside before it’s too late.” Betwixt held out their hand to her. “Come on, we’ll Apparate.”

Henriette looked back at her husband. “Darling, there’s a bit of a problem. Get dressed and meet us down there, alright?” Turning to Betwixt, they took their hand. “How’s life now you’ve settled down, then?”

Betwixt couldn’t help but smile. “It doesn’t feel like settling down, I’ll tell you that much.” With a loud crack, they were gone, as Frederick prepared to bring certain non-magical elements to the fray.

They arrived outside in the snow, Betwixt taking a moment to adjust their tall hat as they surveyed the frost-covered area. “There!” they exclaimed, pointing out at a group of children surrounding someone who was wearing identical clothes to Betwixt, albeit with a strange mask covering the face. The two set off through the snow, their path bringing them past the castle gates. As they ran past, Lachlann and Caitílin emerged. Lachlann saw Betwixt. Betwixt saw Lachlann. The two slowed as they approached each other.

“Don’t tell me you think I’m responsible for this?” Betwixt asked incredulously.

“I wasn’t sure at first. I heard the Lord of Misrule was here on Childermass of all days, and you’re dressed as him, and we all know you’re not exactly a fan of Christian traditions like these.”

“I most certainly am not, that’s true.” Betwixt said, shrugging. “But even I am not enough of a fool to mess with the bizarre magicks of the Yuletide season. However…it would seem that someone is.” They pointed over at the other Lord of Misrule. The two looked back at each other for a moment, before sharing a brief nod, sprinting towards the False Lord.

Henriette followed closely behind, finding herself next to Caitílin. The eldest Doherty looked up at her. “Merry Christmas, Lady Henriette!”

“Merry Christmas, my dear child.” Henriette responded, noticing her children near the Lord. “Though it would seem someone is conspiring to take that merriment away.”

Eventually, they arrived before the False Lord, the children looking very confused as to why there were now two Lords of Misrule. The Fake looked like they were about to say some in-character nonsense to keep the children entranced, but only managed to get out “Well, well, well-” before Lachlann and Henriette blasted them with their wands, Lachlann using a lightning spell and Henriette using an orange and red hex that burned through the air like a flame. The Fake skidded through the snow for a moment before coming to a stop.

Betwixt blinked a few times. “Hmm. I’ll have to tone down what I had planned.” they muttered to themselves. “Still, we are in luck. For a second there I thought the real Lord of Misrule was there, and…” they paused, looking around at the children. “But that couldn’t be right, because I am the real Lord of Misrule!” they began, before catching themselves. “Apologies. It is still Childermass.”

The Fake slowly got to their feet, their mask having fallen away. Lachlann squinted at the face for a moment before raising a moment. “Hang on a second…weren’t you one of the Silver Kingdom’s Royal Advisors?”

The other changeling’s face contorted until the eyes were blank and the skin pale. “I assumed you wouldn’t recognise me, seeing as you were so callous with destroying our home. I am indeed Advisor Pridestone, and do excuse me Monarch, but I thought it fitting to try and teach these insipid mortals a lesson.”

Betwixt had their hand in their arms. “Oh, god, Pridestone, this does not help matters. Firstly, I have already dealt with enacting revenge on Lord Doherty, which means you don’t need to do it, nor do you need to get Lady Henriette’s family involved too.”

Pridestone sneered at her. “She worked with those abhorrent sorcerers that sealed our Kingdom, and helped build a school on top of it!”

Henriette simply sighed. “I apologise if my actions displeased you, my good sir. But I find your method of dealing with grievances to be rather heavy-handed and crude. Not to mention unoriginal, seeing as we all heard of the fascinating tale of a Piper in Hamelin who did something rather similar.”

Pridestone floundered for a moment, their blank eyes staring daggers at Henriette. “Crude?! Unoriginal?! How dare a mortal speak to me like that, I-”

They took a step forward, but were repelled by two more volleys from Lachlann and Henriette. Pridestone went flying into the snow, landing headfirst. Before anyone could say another word, the children erupted into a chorus of cheers, crowding Lachlann and Henriette as Pridestone got up and fled the scene. Lachlann found his own children had made their way closest to him.

“Dad! That was amazing!” Sam yelled, holding Fèlix in his arms who had taken to yelling “Dad! Dad!” over and over. Lachlann picked Fèlix up, nodding at all of his children, watching as Henriette did the same to those that were hers. At this point, a crowd of the other parents were coming out too, Mathilde and Frederick at the very front. But at that moment Lachlann’s eyes were on Betwixt, and their eyes were on the trees of the area, which formed a large forest. Mist seemed to be falling in. Betwixt turned to Lachlann.

“We played right into their hands.” they said, scowling. “I told you, bad things can happen when certain magical energies mix…Let’s just hope it goes away, and we can enjoy the festivities in peace…well, relative peace.”

Caitílin tugged on Lachlann’s arm, grinning, all thoughts of inheritance and family lines forgotten. “This is the best Childermass ever! Why couldn’t we do this every year?”

Lachlann shrugged, ruffling her hair, though he had a nasty feeling that by the end of this they were about to find out why exactly that was.

[strangerobin]

Rue: Chapter 9 (Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

Note: I'm literally in tears right now. I have 7000+ words over 13 pages on my word processor just for this chapter.

Night after night, summer and winter, the torment of storms, the arrow-like stillness of fine weather, held their court without interference.’

The swaying wheat and barley waved in the warm breeze; the burning sun burned like the beacon it was. The entire world was brown and golden. It was hot, it was suffocating. It was terrible.

“The land is barren.” Adeline muttered, her body rocking to and fro with the movement of the wagon, her eyes were trained into the far distance, squinting in the broiling sun.

“You’re being over dramatic.” Henriette’s tone was dry, her hands on the reins, spurring the horses to continue its trot.

“I hate it here already.” Adeline announced, crossing her arms in a huff. “Why couldn’t we have gone somewhere else? Somewhere with more greenery than this? There’s still plenty of places to hide in Louisiana-”

“Staying in the same place over and over will attract attention and you know it.” Henriette was losing her patience too, turning her head sharply to glare at her sister. “Your father will find us if we keep staying in the same place.” The lines on her face and around her eyes deepening, the ever growing frown settling over her wrinkled forehead.

“…We left Ralph in Orleans. All alone.” Adeline bowed her head in grief, hiding her face behind her hair and avoiding those piercing eyes of her sisters. “Six feet under and his body wasn’t even cold when we left.”

Her sister sighed again, though this time it betrayed a tenderness and affection that she only displayed towards her loved ones, freeing one hand to gently comb back Adeline’s soft tresses.

“Silly girl. How many times do I have to tell you? Ralph hasn’t gone anywhere, he’s always with you and me. Always.”

“He’s dead, that’s what he is.”

Henriette continued rubbing her shoulder’s soothingly, as if she were comforting a child. “But he’ll always be in our hearts, and that’s what matters.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Come Addie, let’s not fight.” The older woman smiled lightly, turning the younger girl’s head towards her for closer inspection. There were bags under her eyes and an unnatural pallor, a sullenness swirling behind. Even her usual bright eyes were dulled. “I hate it when you’re angry or sad.”

The younger girl shook her head and curled around the older ones side, much like a feline would.

“I still hate it here. Everything’s so dry and barren and ugly. I’m only putting up with it because of you.”

“What will you do when I’m gone?” Henriette sighed.

“Then I’ll just have to die and pursue you."

“Silly girl.” The elder smiled at the other indulgently, yet her eyes betrayed a melancholy she failed to hide. “You don’t mean that.”

He saw them long before they arrived.

Initially a speck in the distance, and then gradually enlarging until he could see their wagon gradually pulling into town along the dusty highway.

In truth, Jasper had noticed the old lady at the front first; her face hard and etched into a permanent frown, doing nothing to dispel the presence of her wrinkles and only succeeding in making more pronounced than ever. He would have turned away back to his field then had he not caught sight of her in the setting sun, the last of the sun rays reflecting a pale face.

She had a simple shawl wrapped around her head, protecting her from the dust. But it did nothing to hide the beauty she possessed, there was an ethereal feel to it; a otherworldliness. There was also a melancholy to the girl; with her head bowed, eyes downcast, looking so dejected. It captured his attention, struck a chord in his heart, and later he would stop to think about her, in his work, during mealtime, before he went to bed, in his walk.

His eyes followed their receding figure unconsciously as they made their way into town.

He did not know her name yet.

But she had unknowingly sent a ripple in the pool of his heart

Except he did not know of any of this yet.

It was another sleepless night.

Adeline clutched at the tattered copy of To The Lighthouse she had found fallen behind the shelf in the library and staggered downstairs.

Sleep had evaded her yet again. When was the last time she had had a good night’s rest? Or perhaps it was herself who was avoiding it altogether. Whichever it was, she barely slept a wink in the past week. she could almost feel the rush of agitation in her nerves now, the lethargy in her frame, the shortness of her temper.

She needed to get out.

This was a paradise for vampires she supposed. A secretive hideout for the Cullens, no one bothered them here. The town was too enamoured by the dazzling family, the town’s police chief was Bella’s dad and the only visitors they ever had were the wolves from the nearby indigenous tribe. And anyways there was ever only one person who came most of the time.

But it still unnerved her. The jitteriness she experienced in Colorado never fully left her. And she was still startled by the smallest things, the tiniest sounds.

It was the house. She finally concluded. It was Jasper.

She couldn’t rest with Jasper around. No she couldn’t.

Pocketing the few cigarettes she still had remaining into her worn satchel, Adeline grabbed the giant coffee flask she had prepared and stalked out of the house into the dreary morning of Forks in only a thin parka and boots.

As she stalked down the clearing at the back of the house, she felt a shiver down her spine and a feeling of being watched. Turning back she just made out a silhouette at the upper left window.

She didn’t need to squint to know who it was.

She flipped the bird at him before turning around to leave in a huff.

Jasper saw her multiple times in town over the next few days. The two had settled down into one of the cottages his parents had owned bordering their own farming fields; he had yet to formally acquaint with his new neighbours. But it would seem that the arrival of the girl had already sent the town into frenzy.

For one, her dress making skill was excellent. Her embroidery so fine and so meticulous that all the ladies of the town were soon sending in requests, until she had to put them on hold until she could finish the earlier ones first.

Two, she was soon the gossip of the entire town. She’d already had seven proposals in the course of a week, all of which she had rejected without even a side eye. Men were in awe of her beauty and wondered aloud at her ever downcast eyes and the enigma that she was. For the women in town though, she was the subject they loved to hate, for monopolising the attention of the other half of the town. Jealously was an ugly sentiment and hostility an ever isolating one. And the girl soon found herself alone and alienated without a single soul to call as friend.

Soon they had a third topic to discuss on.

She was seen trying to storm the local bookshop for new reading materials, but on seeing her, the store owner had kindly redirected her back to her ladies’ weekly digest.

“You don’t make any sense! Why am I not allowed to read?! It’s only a novel!"

“Child, novels are hardly a suitable reading material for a lady. It promotes unrealistic fancies in young minds like yours.”

“That’s a condescending observation sir.”

“Who do you say you live with again?”

“My grandmama.”

“Well young lady, I suggest you have a word with you grandmother then.”

“Wait!”

The man slammed his door in her face.

And no matter how hard she pounced on the wooden door, the shopkeeper refused to open the door again to the girl.

“Darling, sweetheart.” A pair of well-meaning elderly ladies stopped in their tracks to regard the girl. “Don’t be mad at the man, he’s only trying to do you good. What kind of gentleman of good status would want a woman with her head stuck in a book? It’ll only spur you on into fantasies after fantasies; no man would want a wife who would neglect the family. What would you possibly do then?”

Her lips pursed now and Jasper could see how upset she was with the way her shoulders were hunched and her teeth biting into her lips so hard it drew blood but somehow her eyes shone with a fierce defiance he had never seen.

“A man who loves me would not ask me to give up any of that.”

She let slipped this one sentence before turning to leave with her head held high.

“What a peculiar young girl.” The lady turned to her equally surprised friend and wondered aloud.

The crowd dispersed to return to their day and errands.

Only Jasper was rooted where he was, his mind replaying the conversation the girl and the lady had, the silent dignity, the crackling flame inside her.

He looked to the bookshop again.

Adeline always thought that their relationship now was like a predator to its prey; Jasper always on the outlook, ready to pounce anytime she showed the slightest weakness. But when she did look closely, it wasn’t difficult to find him shuffling awkwardly in the corner when they were in the same room, looking at her with unveiled longing and then the predator would turn into a wounded puppy.

Adeline wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. That he should feel hurt and yet still longed for her, instead of choosing to hate her for all she had done. It was beyond her comprehension. If their fortunes had reversed, she couldn’t say for certain if she would feel the same.

She wondered if he ever thought of the past, their past together. Because she was convinced that he viewed it through a rose tinted lens

Adeline lighted a cigarette and puffed thoughtfully. What she had read at the break of dawn still fresh on her mind.

“There it was before her - life. Life: she thought but she did not finish her thought. She took a look at life, for she had a clear sense of it there, something real, something private, which she shared neither with her children nor with her husband. A sort of transaction went on between them, in which she was on one side, and life was on another, and she was always trying to get the better of it, as it was of her; and sometimes they parleyed (when she sat alone); there were, she remembered, great reconciliation scenes; but for the most part, oddly enough, she must admit that she felt this thing that she called life terrible, hostile, and quick to pounce on you if you gave it a chance.”

She must admit, Woolf’s writings always did have a knack of making one feel and think differently; to approach life, time and memory in a new light; to reflect. The lighthouse, was the never changing vantage point in the passage of time, the ever eluding desire that one chased after but never could quite grasp; ten years was a very long time in a life span, people change, for better or for worse; people die, and all was left was a memory frozen in time. And even that fades, lost in time and space. Nothing was everlasting, no mark or testimony survives the void.

Not even love.

The brutality of life and reality had made sure that it did not.

She briefly considered her own life.

The innocent child Henriette had protected at all cost when she was alive, who was immediately killed by her father after Hettie’s death, gutted and left to her own demise in some dirty gutter. And in her place, all that was left was this new emotionally dead and drained Adeline. Haunted by her own past, her deeds and her misfortunes, completely broken and never quite pieced back together right.

Adeline had taken the gamble with life and lost miserably.

The fog was getting thicker now, the wind lost somewhere in the thicket. The spring air was stagnant, and the soft tendrils of smoke curled around her hair, her frame. For a moment, she stopped in her tracks, just to take in this present moment that would soon morph into another forgotten memory of hers.

He found her at the far end of his parents’ field, looking out into distance, sniffing.

“Hey are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She sniffed again no doubt surprised that someone had crept on her, scrubbing at her face furiously. “Never better.” Before turning around to scrutinise him.

“Who are you?”

“I don’t think we’ve formally met ma’am, I’m Jasper Whitlock.”

“You’re Mr and Mrs Whitlock’s second son.” The girl gasped, before ducking her head formally and shaking his hand. “I’m Adeline, Adeline Ruelle. Your mother’s told me about you.” She looked around again before smiling awkwardly and gesturing to the fields. “I’m trespassing. This is your land. I’ll go-”

“No, no. It’s uh… it’s alright. I don’t mind, Miss Ruelle.”

“But still. I shouldn’t be disturbing the lot of you.”

“Wait. Uh I… I couldn’t help but saw what happened in the town square.”

“Oh.” She frowned before looking down, clearly getting the wrong idea. He wasn’t there to reprimand her too. “It’s alright, I won’t-”

“No wait, I don’t mean it that way. Here.” He quickly thrusted the bundle he had been hiding behind his back this whole time.

Confused, Adeline clutched at the bundle, feeling the hard texture of the package before looking up to stare at him agape. Her hand quickly dove in to tear at the wrapping paper to reveal a hardback book.

“Frankenstein?” She held the book up questioningly. “Why are you giving me this?”

“You wanted this right? Or was it not this? I could take it back and change it if you want-”

“No, no. This was what I was looking for. But why are you giving me this?”

“Because you wanted it.” He stated as a matter of fact. When his answer didn’t dispel the confused look on Adeline’s face, Jasper struggled to explain himself more. “I don’t think they were right in refusing to let you read just because they think it’s not suitable for a lady. Anyone should be allowed to pursue their own knowledge…”

“This isn’t really the most educating thing you know.” For the first time, there was a playful smirk on her lips. “It’s a novel on a man making a monster.”

“You know what I mean.”

Evidently she was grateful. “I- how can I ever thank you for this? How much does this cost? I’ll pay you back the money… I’ll pay you double for all your trouble-”

“No, no it’s fine. Please don’t pay me. I wanted to help. You looked so sad and I just wanted to cheer you up is all.”

“Wait, where are you going, Mr Whitlock sir?! Wait.”

In his mind he had embarrassed himself. It was a stupid move buying her the book. Now she would think him worse than all her other suitors. He had intruded into her privacy and had condescended her by deciding that she would want the book. He had never lost his cool once before, not in front of the girls who had flirted with him, and this new girl had come along and thrown him off his balance.

He didn’t realise till then that his heart was beating erratically and his hand clenched over it unconsciously.

What a stupid stupid man that he was.

“Adeline.”

She was momentarily shocked from her thoughts. Looking up, she found that she had come across the Cullens. There was Alice with the little family.

Alice looked concerned, no doubt surprised by her haggard look and her sleep deprived countenance. Even Bella and Edward looked alerted too. Despite being eccentric, Alice was, Adeline concluded, actually quite a nice person, overly friendly maybe.

“You look tired, are you alright?”

“I’m alright.” She shrugged nonchalantly. Even though the exhaustion was catching up on her fast.

Alice hesitated before smiling. “We’re going to hunt. Do you want to join us?”

Ah, so they were going to hunt. She remembered her surprise when for the first time she had heard that they were vegetarians and that they only fed on animals. Henriette had half forced half bullied her to adopt this kind of diet since she was born, yet she had never seen another doing the same before.

But she didn’t like to hunt in the presence of another, it made her self conscious. And anyways, she was trying her best to steer away from the company of the family.

“It’s alright.” She remained aloof. “I’ll hunt on my way.”

“Will we expect you by dinnertime?” Bella spoke up at the back, Adeline could literally see the trying in her effort to be nice. She quickly looked to Edward who’s face remained neutral.

“Hmph. I’ll be back.” She nodded her head at the latter.

Their paths diverging, the rest of the clan soon took their leave of her. And Adeline looked on at their receding back from her spot.

They would all soon be a distant memory of hers, there was no need to be formally acquainted with any of them.

‘With her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta's arm and left the room, it changed, it shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past.’

This time she was waiting for him.

The moment she caught sight of him strolling towards the perimeter of his fields after supper, Adeline immediately jogged towards him, a large basket in tow.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Mr Whitlock.” She chirped, an unusually bright smile graced over her porcelain features, a stark contrast to the melancholy he saw on her first day in town.

He decided that he loved seeing her smile more than anything right then.

“Jasper is fine ma’am.” He ducked his head bashfully. “Mr Whitlock’s my dad if you will, everyone around here just calls me Jasper, Miss Ruelle.”

“Fine. But then you must call me Adeline. It’s only fair.”

“Miss Adeline.” He bowed half out of jest.

“Adeline.” She corrected him, though there was a twinkle in her eyes. “So where’re you headed to?”

“I’m just heading to the creek down below to rest for a bit, it’s been a long day.”

Adeline nodded in understanding and he was somewhat amused to find the girl trotting behind him. Chuckling, Jasper swooped in to take a grasp at the handle of the basket and carried it. When they finally settled at a shady spot near the creek, Adeline leaned forward to open the latch of the basket.

“I wanted to thank you,” she began, pulling out a batch of baked cookies. “For the book.”

“Its nothing-”

“No! It wasn’t just anything! I…” He watched as she frowned and look away, debilitating with herself, trying to find the right words to express herself.

“No one’s ever done this for me… ever.” She finally murmured, her hands playing at her aprons absentmindedly. “So… yeah.” She pulled at her ear sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re not interested in my ramblings. I should go… it’s your rest time.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

They sat in mutual silence, though there was less initial awkwardness.

“Do you-”

“So I-”

They started at the same time. Sheepish, Jasper gestured for Adeline to continue speaking. She smiled another of her easy smile.

“What I wanted to say was that you really don’t know how much it means for me… for you to get that book for me. My grandfather taught me how to read and write. And between the both of us, this was our most favourite book of all time. But his copy was destroyed in the floods some years ago so when he died… I wanted something to remember him by. That’s why I desperately wanted it at the bookshop.” She grew sentimental then. “Of course it’s not the same copy we used to have, but it’s the sentiment of it that’s the most important.”

“Then I’m glad I got it for you.” And he meant it from the bottom of his heart.

“Here.” She handed him a cookie, “you still haven’t tried it yet.”

Tentatively, he took a bite out of it. “It’s delicious!"

Adeline grinned, evidently proud. “Of course. And they said no decent southern gentleman would want me. You’ve just proven them wrong!”

Jasper laughed. “Well you’ve certainly stolen my stomach away with that amazing bakery.”

Adeline reclined onto her elbows in her spot and squinted in the dazzling sun. “You know it’s not half as bad here as I initially thought.”

“Must be because of my company.” He spoke jokingly.

“Hmm. Maybe." Jasper found himself observing Adeline’s every move. Now she was closing her eyes, basking in the glory of the setting sun, humming to herself. The warm ray of light accentuating her long neck and her collarbones and-

She turned suddenly, her excited eyes on him.

“Have you ever read Frankenstein?”

She knew she was getting closer and closer towards the sea, despite the fog being thick and hanging over the threshold. She just knew.

There was the faint crashing of waves now, getting louder by the minute. And the brambles of the forest floor was spreading out.

Now all she needed to do was-

And she stepped out into the sunlight. Despite the sun, it was not the Texan sun she remembered from her memories, it barely gave her warmth. But it did dispel some of the mist that clung around her like tendrils. Here was a cliff of some sort, with the sea roaring right below her feet, the moss and the wildflowers carpeting the entire forest ground until it ended abruptly at the ledge, to a steep drop of some fifty or even sixty feet.

It was indeed beautiful.

Adeline watched mesmerised, how the waves licked the cliff side, thundering, throwing up white foam and algae and whatnots.

Sighing, she leaned back against a tree trunk. The sky was grey and endless in the horizon. It was dreary, and she felt that it suited her more than the Texan sun and blue sky ever did.

She readjusted her sitting position against the tree and took out her book.

James and Cam and Mr Ramsey were heading to the lighthouse now and Lily Briscoe was finishing off her painting ten years later.

‘“It will rain,” he remembered his father saying. “You won’t be able to go to the Lighthouse.”

The Lighthouse was then a silvery, misty-looking tower with a yellow eye, that opened suddenly, and softly in the evening. Now—

James looked at the Lighthouse. He could see the white-washed rocks; the tower, stark and straight; he could see that it was barred with black and white; he could see windows in it; he could even see washing spread on the rocks to dry. So that was the Lighthouse, was it?

No, the other was also the Lighthouse. For nothing was simply one thing. The other Lighthouse was true too. It was sometimes hardly to be seen across the bay. In the evening one looked up and saw the eye opening and shutting and the light seemed to reach them in that airy sunny garden where they sat.’

She closed the book with a sigh.

To be fair, she knew that Jasper thought about their past, just as she did. Except, they each remembered things and events differently. Or maybe it was just that for her, with the knowledge of hindsight, everything was brought into a new light and became tainted.

Could she look back with pure joy now? At her days with him which was now, in hindsight, filled with regret and more importantly, guilt.

There was some truth in it she supposed.

Perhaps there were more facets in their memory than she would give credit for. There was the truth, and then there were all the different angles you could appraise it from. Both were looking at the lighthouse, but he no doubt looked on with fondness and through a rose tinted lens, and she with hindsight could only look on with a sense of dread.

She only wished that he would not be so enamoured by his sentiments that he was blindsided by the truth.

With that thought, her mood soured again and she threw the book into the ground. Subconsciously, her hand went to the locket hidden beneath her shirt where she fingered the engravings to calm herself.

Adeline closed her eyes and listened to the sea.

After that fateful afternoon, Adeline was showing up at the fields every few days. And the creek immediately became their mutual meeting point. And on days when she was too busy with her work to venture out, Jasper would swing by, just to see her, have a chat. They lived close enough, and he was always giving excuses after excuses about why he was there. Excuses he thought she saw through with that complicit smile and the twinkle always present in her eyes. Her grandmother was less impressed however, but she never treated him ill, always being ever cordial, receiving him, making tea, working in the corner, muttering to herself in French.

The days blurred into one, and towards the end of that summer, his parents invited the Adeline and her grandmother over for dinner one fine evening. His mother took an immediate liking towards the girl, and his father called her the daughter he always wanted.

It made Jasper feel giddy, that his family loved her so much. He was almost proud.

It would be the best summer he ever had.

They had read Milton, the Odysseus, the Aeneid, Austen, Dickens, and many more.

He was always surprised to see Adeline brimming with so much knowledge at such a young age. He had wondered at the background of her grandfather, but she always deflected the questions with a wistful smile then he learnt not to ask them anymore.

It was perhaps cliche to say, but she really was not like other girls. Adeline was open, she was kind and sincere and more importantly she was the sun herself, a burning beacon, radiating with warmth. One look at her and he found the day’s worth of handwork and fatigue to be nothing.

Jasper knew the implication of his thundering heart. Romance was not something new to him, he’d heard it from fieldworkers, men who were only a few years older than him.

But he had his doubts too.

He saw how the men tried to talk to her, and though she never mentioned it once to him, he heard enough to know about all the confessions and declarations and proposals she received on a regular basis. Her refusals did nothing to quell his disheartened heart. Her suitors ranged from various backgrounds including pretty boys with wealthy backgrounds and ancestors who were founding members of this town even.

What was he? Nothing but a simple farmer boy. How was he to compete with then?

Every time he heard of another refusal, his hope would get a little higher, that perhaps her smiles and her openness were only directed at him. Yet one look at himself and his meagre possessions, and he would lose what little confidence he had.

Even so, even so she never missed a day with him. Never forgot an engagement, never failed to show up.

That she would welcome him warmly each time, with her radiant smile and her gentle words, even if she would ramble on and on about her long and tiring day and her tedious work.

He was failing miserably to quell his beating heart. Some days It was pure agony, other days he would find himself hope against all hope that perhaps, just perhaps that she would reciprocate even a fraction of his feelings.

But his doubts held him back each time, when he was on the brink of a confession. He would be reminded of the string of failed proposals that came before his and he would become afraid and stopped himself short.

Was it better to protect this friendship, this comradeship that they had?

But with each passing summer day, as he got ready for harvest, his heart was becoming more and more heavy.

It was too much.

He didn’t think he could go on like this.

The ravens cawed and she awoke with a start. Standing up immediately, she was dazed to find that she was not in her simple attire of boots and parka anymore. Gone was the sea and the grey horizon; the pines surrounding her were tall and ominous, a light mist was beginning to form around her, obscuring her sight further on. She was in her Sunday best again, the cream coloured dress with those understated embroideries she had seen herself. There was the chain of daisies at the hem of her sleeves and around her collar. She looked around, trying to comprehend her surrounding.

So she was in a dream then.

A nightmare perhaps.

Might as well walk to the very end of it so that she could wake. Though she loathed to think how it would end, hopefully not with her screaming bloody murder again.

Trudging onwards, the claustrophobia was getting more and more intense, the fog thickening and the trees crowding more and more together until there was no distinguishable path that she could follow. She felt suffocated.

Just then, there was a chill around her heart and it began to thump fiercely. Turning her head cautiously towards her back, she was instantly struck by an intense fear.

Run, her instinct was screaming in her ears.

She ran like the frightened bunny that she was. She could hear the laughters of her sisters, and worse of all. The shoutings of her father.

There seemed to be no end. The brambles tore at her dress, tearing the embroideries, the mud splattering all over her apron, the loose branches leaving small open cuts over her hands and face. The laughters behind her never ceased. She was bone chilled and yet she daren’t stop in her tracks. For fear of being caught, for fear of a punishment worse than death.

And just when all hope was lost, there in the distance was an opening!

And out she ran into a field of wheat and barley. Shocked, she looked back cautiously at the edge of the forest she had just dashed through.

The eeriness had gone and it was only just a stretch of low woodland and shrubberies. Her nightmarish forest was gone.

Cocking her head to the side in confusion, Adeline nevertheless continued to trudge on and at the end of the wheat field, a warm inviting cottage stood in its midst.

The smoke gently curled around the chimney, the vines over the walls, the blue cornflowers at the windows.

It was painfully the same as she had remembered.

She quietly opened the latch to the door and stepped inside the threshold.

“You’re back.” As her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, she saw a man in a simple cotton white shirt and dark pants gently settling the white bundle in his arms into a crib. “How was your walk? Refreshing?”

“Yes…” Adeline stuttered. “Jasper?"

“Yes darling?” The man turned with a tender smile towards her, arms opening wide to welcome her. This time she did not hesitate and rushed towards his strong inviting embrace. Breathing in the strong familiar scent, feeling the warmth he radiated. All the while avoiding glancing at the crib she had seen.

“I’m tired.” She murmured. “Take me to bed?” She pleaded.

Jasper only chuckled.

As they finally settled in bed, his calloused hands, overused at the farm, began its motion of combing through her hair slowly, soothingly just like he did all the time when the two were in bed. Adeline closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t want to wake up from this and back to the icy cold acquaintance that they now shared.

“I had the strangest dream.” She murmured to him, burrowing deeper into his embrace, her ear rested on his chest, and she could hear the strong beating of his beating heart. “I dreamt that I left you. And that it destroyed you so badly that you became something I couldn’t even recognise anymore. And then I hated you so much and you resented me so much for turning you into what you became.”

“Left me…” Jasper repeated to himself, his hand froze momentarily in its motion.

Adeline looked up in desperation. If this was a dream, at least she would keep him happy. This much she could do at the very least.

“It was only just a dream though.” She tried to smile, raising a hand to trace his strong jawline. “I could never leave you.”

He resumed his soothing motion, combing through her hair, massaging her scalp. She hummed and turned to listen to his beating heart again.

“No, because what would happen to us if you actually left?”

Ah… the bundle in the crib.

She imagined a young boy, with golden curls around his temple and warm inviting hazel eyes. Who would call her maman, who she would teach French to, and raise him and teach him well, just as she had done to her handful of brothers and sisters. It would’ve been domestic bliss. It would’ve been what she wanted if she had been human.

She was drifting in and out of consciousness again as she lingered in her impossible dreams.

The soothing motion over her scalp never ceased. In fact it became more and more concrete.

“Adeline…. Adeline…”

There was someone calling to her softly, far away, at the edge of her consciousness. And it was getting nearer and nearer.

Somehow she felt safe, warm and calm. A sense of serenity washed over her.

She was protected.

She felt a light peck over her lips.

A chaste little kiss.

She chastised without opening her eyes, though her lips were slowly pulling into a small smile.

“What are you playing at-” she mumbled in her sleep.

And then she descended into sweet oblivion.

They met in the fields as usual the sun casting its shadow towards the east, amongst the waving barley and the golden wheat. Adeline was chatting animatedly about the latest novel she had been reading.

He cleared his throat when she stopped to take a breath in between.

“I have something to tell you.”

Her brows shot up no doubt finally realising that she had been hogging the conversation table for the last half an hour or so, but she quickly composed herself and gave him a reassuring smile. “What is it? I’m all ears.”

“I’m joining the army.”

“What?”

“I’m joining the Texas cavalry.”

“Why?” She looked bewildered, and there was a frantic look in her eye. “Don’t you have enough to do in the farm? The harvests and the cattle’s and… everything! Have you talked this through with your parents?!”

“I have. They are in full support of it.”

“But why?” She pouted her lips cutely, but her voices sounded betrayed. “I enjoy our time with you here everyday, don’t you? If you join the army, you’ll be working and training everyday. I-” she stopped and looked away, embarrassed, scuffing the sole of her shoe over the ground petulantly.

He chuckled. How to make her understand? That he was doing this exactly because of her.

“Besides, you’re a landowner yourself. I know the land isn’t much, but it should be enough for you right?”

“Adeline.”

“So why would you suddenly decide you want to become a soldier?”

“Adeline.”

“I mean sure I know you’ll excel in it anyways. You’re going to charm you way up. Then you’ll forget little ol me.”

“Adeline.” Jasper finally had to smirk. "You never let people finish what they have to say.”

Adeline huffed in annoyance and crossed her arm. “Fine. By all means!”

What she didn’t expect next was for him to clasp her hand in his.

“You might think that a farmer is well respected enough, but I’m a second son. When my parents die, my brother will inherit the farm. I can help with the farm, but it will never be mine. I’ll never have an income as prosperous as my brother will if I continue to work for him. When I do marry and then someday have children of mine, would I want them to endure the same fate as I have?”

“But if you love her then surely-”

“Would I be able to have better marriage prospect as my brother does? The answer is no. I would never be able to do better than him, I would be at a disadvantage, less likely to get the girl of my dreams. No decent gentleman would marry their own precious daughter to a second son. That is, unless if I make a name for myself in some other way.”

“By joining the army?”

“It was either that or become a priest.”

“There are other ways surely! You can study to be a lawyer or… or a businessman or anything other than joining the army!”

“Don’t you find some of the younger soldiers charming and dashing? I overheard you chatting with-”

“I care about you too much to want to see you get hurt!”

There was a solemnity in her clear blue eyes that betrayed nothing but sincerity and concern. It left him feeling giddy, that gave him a confidence he had been lacking for sometime to carry out what he was about to do that he had psyched himself up to do for weeks now. He couldn’t help but grin.

But it irked her to new heights.

“Stop it, don’t laugh! It’s not a laughing matter!” Adeline pouted again, slapping him in the arm repeatedly, and this time there were angry tears threatening to fall from her beautiful orbs. “I worry about you! Even if you seem no have no care about your own safety!”

“Fine! Go! Go join the bloody army if you love it so much for some bloody girl you think you’ve fallen in love with! See if I care when you get killed off by some stupid I don’t know what!”

She turned around and by the slight tremor in her shoulder and the sniffing he realised with a newfound panic that she was crying. This wasn’t what he had intended to do.

“Adeline.” He soothed, coaxing the girl to turn around to face him. “Are you crying?”

“No I’m not.”

“Hush, then turn around see that I can see you properly.”

When she did turn, he could still see the devastation over her face. The tear trails over the apples of her cheek, those eyes brimmed with unshed tears. But she stared back with great defiance, her chin held haughtily up. He has to suppress a tender sigh, his heart was so heavy with love for this girl, the little treacherous thing thumping against his chest so loudly he was sure she would’ve heard it.

“Adeline, you must know how important this is for me."

She looked away then and feigned boredom. “Why are you telling me this Mr Whitlock? You’re wasting your time on me. Shouldn’t you be looking for your bloody lover to her about this.”

“I really should shouldn’t I? But I need your help and advice.” He studied her closely as she bit her lips so hard it almost drew blood, as she raised a hand to finger her earring in an effort to calm her nerves mo doubt. He slowly reached out a hand to hold her chin and turn her pretty face back to his before delivering the final blow.

“But suppose I’m looking at her already right now as I speak?”

“Looking at her…?”

“Won’t you tell me how do I stop her tears and make her understand that I’m joining the army so that I can have a future with her? So that I can stand on my own and go to her grandmother to ask for permission to court her and marry her?”

He saw the moment the realisation hit her, Adeline’s mouth dropped as she stared mutely at him.

“You… I… I don’t think I understand what you-”

“I’m telling you that I love you Adeline. And I want to marry you.”

He stopped abruptly then to take a deep breath, his heart beating ferociously now, the rush in his ears was almost deafening, he was too fearful of what she would say.

But when her looked into her eyes, there was a newfound vulnerability, one he had never seen before. She wet her trembling lips.

“This isn’t a joke you’re pulling on me is this?”

“I would never joke about this.” He said with resolute.

Bashful, she looked down and sucked at her lips. And if he had looked closely, he would have seen how her cheeks were tinted red, not by the summer heat or the burning sin.

“No one has ever said that to me.” Her eyes were brimming with tears again though her lips were slowly, but surely drawing up into a smile. “I think… I love you too Jasper Whitlock.”

And that was the straw for him.

He stepped forward to close the gap between them, long arms stretching out to hold her tightly. Her arms slowly wound themselves around his neck, their face inches apart, looking straight into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t you think we’re a little too close for propriety’s sake, Mr Whitlock?” The corner of her lips tugging up playfully.

“Hush”. He thought his heart was going to burst. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

And under the setting Texan sun, amongst a golden burning world, they shared their first ever kiss, two hearts beating as one.

The thick clouds above were for once finally dispersing and the radiant sunbeams filtered in between, producing a luminous effect as it struck his skin.

The motion in his hand never ceasing, gently combing through Adeline’s hair as she herself laid on his chest, breathing in and out calmly. Without the hostility and the jitteriness, Jasper was almost fooled into believing that this Adeline was the same Adeline from his past.

But she was not.

Jasper sighed again, his heart so full of emotions it was painful.

He had wandered out after she left the house and subconsciously, or perhaps guided by a vengeful angel, he had stumbled across her, in the midst of a nightmare, curling into herself, whimpering. He acted on his natural instincts to soothe away the frown, and it mystified him that the moment he laid his hand on her head did the whimpering stopped. He couldn’t resist stealing a light kiss from those plump lips.

Looking down at Adeline’s serene sleeping face, Jasper wished he didn’t have to hide himself like this, that he could’ve held her when she was awake, her radiant smile guided towards him and himself only. Not like this, not when she wouldn’t even know that it was him who had comforted her and held her in her sleep, had warded away her nightmares, even if just for a few moments only.

Oh but he couldn’t let her know.

Every small movement now would send him into caution, to extricate himself from her before she woke, lest she would run away, lest he would startle her, deepen this gulf between them.

He surveyed their immediate surrounding, there was Adeline’s cassette player, the tiny thing’s battery had long since stopped running. He made a remark to ask her about the mixtape she had been listening to. The emptied coffee flask, the burnt cigarette butts. And there lying open with its cover up, its spine breaking right in the middle, was Rosalie’s old battered copy of To the Lighthouse. He remembered watching her going all out just to hide it behind the shelf.

It’s too painful. She had finally confessed one rainy day. But I can’t bear to throw it away. It’s like a mirror you hold up to juxtapose it with your own life.

He never read it, not in depth anyways.

He reached out to grab it and randomly flipped through it, scanning the words as he did so.

‘To want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have- to want and want- how that wrung the heart, and wrung it again and again!’

“What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”

[theravenclawrevolutionary]

In one last celebration of Maxime's birthday here's a collection of three birthday scenes from my novel wip about him! This post is fairly long and certainly unpolished so read at your own risk.

Excerpt from Chapter One, featuring newborn Maxime

"Isn't he wonderful mon amour," Jacqueline asked her husband, tearing her eyes away from her son for the first time since he'd been placed in her arms. "Absolutely wonderful! And to think," she said pausing to look into François' eyes. "He was born out of love. Not everyone can say that for themselves."

"You're right," François muttered, thinking back to the day Jacqueline had told him that she was pregnant. She'd told him a month or so after they had done the very thing that caused it. He had been courting her on and off for a little more than a year and one night the two had let their emotions and desires get the better of them in the worst way possible.

The night Jacqueline told him, François had done two things. First he had gone out and drank for quite a considerable length of time. While he was out he had decided that he was going to marry Jacqueline. At the beginning of their still-new marriage, there were times when he wasn't sure whether he did it for his honor or the sake of Jacqueline and the child. Now, he realized, as he sat with his own little family, it didn't matter who he originally did it for. Either way, he'd made the right choice.

Yet even after they had promised to marry, the two were the talk of Arras. Everyone knew everyone there and all it seemed anyone could talk about was the brewer's daughter, her scandalous relationship with the well-known attorney, and the swiftly growing child that was the result. There had been numerous occasions several months before they were set to be married, and he'd been so terrified of what others would say and whether or not he was ready for such a commitment that he'd almost called off the entire thing. His own parents hadn't even attended the ceremony when it finally came around and Jacqueline's parents only went because witnesses were required. Yet here he was, four months married with a beautiful newborn son and a wife that he loved.

The child shifted his small arm slightly, inadvertently drawing his parents’ attention back to him. His tiny eyes opened slightly for a fraction of a second, revealing pale green irises that matched his mother's. Gently, trying her best not to disturb the child, his mother bent down to kiss him on the head. A few moments went by in comfortable silence. The three sat together, warm, and filled with love.

"He's going to be named after you, you know." François looked away from Maximilien's peaceful face, startled at his wife's words. She laughed slightly and laid her head on his shoulder.

"What?" Francois was completely taken aback.

“He's going to be named after you. Maximilien François; that's going to be his name." Jacqueline smiled up at her husband and shifted even closer against him, enjoying the slightly surprised expression on his face. Her husband was not usually an easily surprised man so she took great pride in the times she did manage to surprise him. "We've talked about this before, you know. It was the night I told you about him. I told you that after you came back to me." She refrained from adding, 'Not that you were sober enough to remember it.' As well as things had turned out, her husband’s fondness for alcohol did occasionally tend to cause problems when his emotions ran high enough. She could smell it faintly on his breath.

There had been no expectation of all-encompassing joy that night. It had been terrifying to say, like a criminal confessing his crime to a condemning judge. Her lips had trembled and her eyes had filled with tears as her lover approached their meeting place.

Francois had greeted her with a kiss to her hairline, his dark eyes taking in her pale face. He’d said some words as well, but Jacqueline didn’t hear them. Her own words spilled from her lips, burning as they left. Francois froze for a few moments like an animal caught in a trap. He made to move toward her and for a moment she thought that perhaps everything would be alright in the end. He fled. And then he’d returned.

Jacqueline could remember looking up at him from the place she had sat crying for hours. She could remember smelling the alcohol strong on his breath and clothes as he fumbled over his words. But she could also remember him kissing her cheek softly with one hand resting gently on her stomach and telling her that everything was going to be alright. And everything was. He’d gone out and bought a ring, and tried, really tried, to make things right. Jacqueline was so lost in her memories that she almost didn't hear the soft sound of her son fussing in her arms.

"Shhhh," she crooned sleepily, holding the child close to her chest. One hand reached out of his blankets for a moment and François tucked it back in as gently as he could manage. "Hush little Maxime. You will be alright. Nothing will happen as long as your father and I are here, and we always will be." Quietly comforting their son, Jacqueline and Francois sat together in peaceful darkness until the priest came to baptize him.

Excerpt from Chapter two, featuring six-year-old Maxime

“Come on little man. Let’s show you your gift shall we?” François headed for the door, making sure that Maximilien ducked his head before stepping outside. The street was mostly empty and the sky was still cloudy and grey, but the fresh smell of the recently finished rain filled their nostrils and the sound of their own laughter filled their ears. Jaqueline, walking slowly because of her pregnancy, and the other children with their little legs followed the pair out of the house. Maximilien gasped.

“Birds! You got me birds, Papa? Oh, thank you! Thank you, Papa!” A small wooden cage containing two gray doves chirping softly sat beside the door. Maximilien knelt down beside it and stuck his fingers through the slats, hoping that one of the birds would come land on his finger. He felt the water on the road soak into the knees of his breeches but ignored it. He was too entranced by the birds to care.

“You like them then,” Jacqueline asked smiling. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from her son.

“Oh yes! I love, love, love them! Do they have a name already? Or can I name them?”

“Go right ahead darling,” Jacqueline said, lifting Augustin into her arms. “They’re yours now. But you have to promise to take care of them, alright?” He nodded earnestly.

“I promise! Cross my heart and hope to cry! Wait… is it die? Hmmm… I dunno.” He paused to think for a few moments. “I’m going to name them um… Sunny and… and Tart!”

“They’re so cute,” Henriette squealed, pushing her way past her parents. “Can I pet one Maxime?” He made a face but nodded anyway.

“I guess so. But be nice. You gotta be gentle.” Maximilien took her little hand in his and slowly guided it towards the birds. They squawked a little and ruffled their feathers slightly but allowed the two to pet them.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Lottie look! See them?” Charlotte giggled and joined her siblings by the cage. François and Jacqueline smiled at each other in the setting sun.

It had taken a significant amount of time to get him to bed that night. He kept finding his way back to the cage which had been moved to his bedroom.

“Maximilien lay down!” He sighed and stormed over to his bed, stomping his feet and glaring at his mother as he went. “If you don’t behave, you’re going to have to be punished.” He flopped onto the bed.

“But Maman,” he protested. “I want to play with my birds!”

“If you don’t go to sleep you won’t be allowed to visit Grand-mère and Grand-père tomorrow. And I know you were so looking forward to it." Those words seemed to have the desired effect because Maximilien nearly fell out of bed as he scrambled under the bedsheets and pulled them up around his chin. “I thought you might see it that way darling,” Jacqueline said, smoothing her son’s hair and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Maximilien fell asleep easily that night with a smile on his face and the sound of his birds chirping quietly in the corner.

Excerpt from Chapter 25, featuring thirty-one-year-old Maxime

May 6th proved to be an interesting birthday. Most of the day was spent in the palace assembly hall that housed all the meetings of the Estates-General, listening to the bickering of hundreds of men. It was also discovered that, though the representation of delegates from the Third Estate had been doubled, the entirety of the men gathered still shared one vote. Outraged at the holdover from the outdated 1614 meeting, several men voiced their opinions on the largest class receiving the same number of votes as the minuscule portion of society represented in the First and Second Estates, none too quietly either. For Maximilien, a large portion of the assembly was spent gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the pounding headache forming behind his eyes.

Camille, who Maximilien hadn’t known to be around Versailles, found where he was staying and gifted him a surprise visit that night.

Maximilien had been sitting at the rickety desk in the half-light of the setting sun, scribbling down a few lines of poetry into his journal, when the knock came.

“Um… hel- hello,” a muffled, but familiar, voice asked from the other side. “Is this where Maxime, I mean Monsieur de Robespierre is staying? I’d heard that it is.”Maximilien sprang to his feet, removing his glasses and setting them beside the journal before running his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb it into some semblance of order.

“Camille? Is that you? What are you doing in Versailles?!”

“Yes. It’s me. Let me in and I’ll tell you.” Maximilien opened the door and Camille, with his curls dancing wildly about his head, bounded into the room. He embraced Maximilien with a grin and kicked the door closed behind him. “Oh! Right. Happy birthday by the way. That is the whole reason I stopped by after all.” Maximilien gestured to the delicate desk chair he had just been sitting at.

“Ah. Thank you. Would you… would you like to sit down? I feel as if you’ll be staying for quite some time.” Camille complied and sat gingerly on the edge of the chair, holding his breath a little as he did so, clearly hoping it wouldn’t break under his slight frame. “I’d offer you refreshments, but I feel that it’s painfully obvious that I have none.”

“That’s alright. I realized about halfway here that I should have brought you a gift of some sort.”

“I’m sure the tales of what you’ve done since we last spoke will be a gift on its own.” Camille laughed, the warm sound filling the dark cramped room and bringing back fondly bittersweet memories from their years at Louis le Grand. “So please, enlighten me as to what’s delivered you to the same place as I. And any other stories you find worthy of mentioning.”

“I haven’t been elected to the Estates-General as you well know,,” he began. “I wanted to so incredibly badly, but the men back in Guise aren’t nearly as fond of me as you are. I failed, almost certainly because of their distaste, but living in Paris for so long before with nothing but occasional visits home certainly didn’t help.”

“I’m sorry.” Camille dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand.

“No matter. I’ve been enjoying myself to some degree. My law practice sputters out now and again, but it always comes back around. I write for newspapers on occasion too.”

“How’s Martin,” Maximilien asked, fearing the answer. He had little hope that their relationship had lasted the extent of nine years. “Are you two still together.” Camille let out a barking laugh still tinged with sadness, even after many years.

“No. I apparently was a ‘flight of schoolboy fancy” who was being used for cheap entertainment and all that. He was crying when he told me though. I think it was a lie. His father found out about us. But Martin doesn’t matter. I’m courting a girl now. Lucille Duplessis. She’s very, very pretty, extremely sweet, intelligent for her age, and, unlike Martin, she’s deemed proper by society. I’ve fallen head over heels for her and she seems to feel the same way unless she’s a fucking fantastic actress! Contrary to what her father has to say, I think we’re a good match.”

“Oh… That’s nice. I’ll have to meet her someday. I am sorry about how everything ended with Martin though.”

“‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Is that all you can say Maxime? You need to relax a little. Tell me, what have you been up to recently?”

“Life in Arras has been good to me since graduation. Not only has my law practice been mildly successful but I’ve also been elected to the Royal Academy of Arras and I spend a lot of time writing poetry. Living with Charlotte was not disagreeable either. We live in a small house we’ve been renting on the Rue du Saumon. It’s only a short walk to my office and an even shorter one to the parish church where my grandparents and mother are buried. In this time I have also realized a… a specific vein of fondness not only for ladies but a few gentlemen as well.”

“Maxime!” Camille’s tone was incredulous and a bit proud. “You’ve turned yourself into a right little rake, haven’t you!” Maximilien sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand as his eyebrows knit.

“Not fondness in the physical way for either of them, like you, Camille,” he said hurriedly, trying to make himself clear. “I know these feelings to be of a solely romantic fashion. Additionally, no feelings have resulted in anything, hindered by my inability to flirt and to detect when someone else is flirting with me in return.”

“Poor Maxime,” Camille said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm and his hazel eyes shining. He ran a hand through his hair, fluffing out the curls. “Whatever shall you do?”

“Devote my time to helping others. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. You know that.”

“And I expect that’s why you wanted to be here, isn’t it. You wanted to be around when the revolution starts.” Maximilien raised an eyebrow. Camille cocked his head. “We’ve been discussing the inevitability of one for years. The Americans did it. They were fed up and they did something about it. We all know it’s only a matter of time before it happens. Danton, a friend of mine back in Paris, you really ought to meet him someday, believes it will happen soon as well.” Maximilien sighed and nodded. Camille was right, a fact he usually hated to admit. Even Arras and its surrounding small towns were rife with talk of forcing change on the country. Even at school, many years ago, the general consensus had been that reforms, real, meaningful reforms were due any year.

“You’re right, of course,” agreed Maximilien. “What better way to help people than to play an active part in achieving their will. I do hope that our ‘revolution’, as you are so fond of calling it, is more civil than the American’s though. What good can come to the people if we must wage war against ourselves?”

“Someday when the two of us are famous and well known from all the good we’ve done for France people will print little books, like those books with bible verses in them or short prayers, but instead they’ll be filled with quotes by you. You’ll have to start saying things like that all the time and hope that I don’t start selling a separate one with all your naughty quotes from Louis le Grand in it.”

“Unlike you Camille, I see no fame or fortune in my future in relation to politics.”

“If you say so Maxime. But I’m not sure how you’re going to help all of France if that’s the case."

[inspector-montoya-fox]

here’s why Thieves in Time is a bad game

before y’all try it, i just want to say that i’ll be as unapologetically petty and sarcastic as i want and fucking rip this game to shreds. yes, this is how i’ve spent my days since Thieves in Time came out. sitting alone in my room, staring at the wall, crying and complaining. because it has since been my life’s aim and dream to think about it every day, state the negative things about it, and become an evil essay witch on this half-dead website. *evil laugh*

Story:

References: i want to start with the smallest problem, but one that annoys me to this day. in the original trilogy, there weren’t a lot of references but the ones that were included were meticulously researched and well thought-out (i’m specifically referring to that Neil Diamond Carmelita vinyl gag, but can’t find the original post). the references in Thieves in Time however, were obviously just the creators’ interests. Turning Japanese, Clan of the Cave Bear and Bentley’s “hacksona” presented as Rambo just scream 1980s (which i’m assuming is the decade the creators grew up in), and Of Mice and Men is classic literature about the Great Depression, which subsequently started being taught in school in the US during the 1980s. it feels like the creators just went ‘let’s discuss what our lives had in common during our teen years and put that in’ instead of researching it first. and, here’s the thing: when you’re adding references, in order to make them funny or interesting, they have to fit in with the property or the character that’s connected to them in some way. Don Octavio was an opera aficionado so his episode’s title card pays homage to the Phantom of the Opera, young Muggshot was influenced by the movie “The Dogfather” because he’s a gangster, etc. these were funny because they were so spot-on with these characters. if every character in the Sly Cooper universe references the same type of stuff (from the 1980s) and shares the same interests, it’s just claustrophobic and uninteresting. i’m pretty sure i’m not the only one who had to look up these ultra-hetero, scrotum references when the game came out. that’s because they were specifically tailored to be funny to them, and not their target demographic which were kids in 2013.

Narrative: now that we got that out of the way, let’s look at the narrative. at the end of Sly 3, Bentley says he’s building a time machine. Sanzaru took that joke and decided to run with it as the premise for their game. ok, not the best idea, but i get it - you’re literally picking up where the last game left off. since all the storylines were wrapped up, they could’ve done something different like Sly’s kids or Bentley and Murray’s families, but this isn’t an essay about suggestions so...... time travel (i want to say that it’s, again, an 80s reference but whatever) was pretty ‘out there’ in 2013. i mean, even Plants vs Zombies 2, which was released that year, had to do with time travel (yes, i’m referencing an app). but Sanzaru had the advantage of applying this premise onto already established mythos and lore. the story had definite potential: someone is threatening Sly’s lineage so he has to travel back in time to save the day. the player would get to explore new locations and iconic eras in history, and, of course, the main selling point: playable ancestors. how could you screw that up? welp.... let’s think about the plot holes here for a sec. Bentley’s device would take the gang back in time when given an item from the specific era. stop. this right here is called ‘over-complicating’. how did they know the items would take them directly to the point where the specific ancestor was in danger? the Feudal Japan period lasted for 700 years: how did the machine know when and where to drop them off? and if the gang could return to the present at any time, why didn’t they do so when they were in trouble? oh right, the machine was broken. so how did they return the baddies to the present after they defeated them? i mean, why did they use the Grizz’s crown to travel to Medieval England if they went back to the present to drop him off to Interpol first? and on that note, how did they drop the baddies off to jail without getting caught and without Carmelita being around? i can already hear you thinking but these are total details that aren’t important, you jerk! well, yea, they truly are details and i truly am overthinking it. and yes, i truly am a jerk. but let me tell you something: when Sanzaru chose to make a new Sly game, did they not think ‘oh we’ll have to follow up Sly 2 and Sly 3′s stories’ which were well thought-out narratives with depth and various themes and didn’t have huge plot holes (as seen by my analysis through the episode project) ???? and did they also not think that their game would come out eight years after the last one, having expectations at an all-time high???? yea, that’s what i thought.

Characters: i’ll make a different section for Sucker Punch’s characters, so this is for Sanzaru’s original ones. name one iconic original character from Thieves in Time. i’ll wait... nope. not one. that’s because all of them were absolute shit. and here’s where i want to touch upon Sanzaru’s over-reliance on the trilogy. Ms Decibel (perhaps the most obvious copy) is a mix between Don Octavio, Miz Ruby, and the Contessa. El Jefe is Rajan if he went to the gym. Toothpick has Sir Raleigh’s temper and tendency to grow in size. and the Grizz is... whatever the fuck he is. (don’t worry i didn’t forget Le Paradox and Bob). there’s a difference between studying & creating similar characters and blatantly plagiarizing older characters because you lack the creativity. oh, boo-hoo this evil jerk’s telling it how it is. this set of villains is so lacklustre, i don’t even know where to begin. El Jefe is a tiger, even though we’ve already had two major tiger villains and one tiger flashlight guard. ok. Rajan could summon lightning because of the Clockwerk heart but El Jefe can do the same, how exactly? Toothpick is an armadillo (good) from Russia (better) with an obsession with the West (excellent) who can also grow huge (very bad). it’s never explained how or why. why?????? just tell me why. i want to know. i really want to know. Ms Decibel is an elephant who got into a tragic accident which left her with the power of hypnosis. music and hypnosis have already been done, but ok, i’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. so how do we use this character? spend the entirety of her screen time making jokes about... wait for it... her weight !!! this is top-notch comedy... really? like... really? the creators’ humor is a crime, at best. fart jokes and fat jokes all around. oh, and then there’s the Grizz. what the fuck where they thinking? just, what the fuck. i guess the guys at Sanzaru thought black people speak in rap? is that it? apart from it being extremely offensive, it’s also a blatant copy of Dimitri’s backstory. like, his introductory cutscene even has his paintings thrown at him and into the trash, like the intro cutscene for The Black Chateau. honestly, all of these villains caused me several types of pain, but not as much as...

Bob & Le Paradox: the absolute worst. i can just imagine the meeting going something like this: Sly’s ancestors are awesome! i wish we could fit them all in the game... here’s an amazing idea! what if we use one of the game’s few levels to introduce a brand new ancestor! yea! let’s make him dumb as fuck, strip him of any athletic prowess, and retcon the entire lineage by having him be the first Cooper ever! the kids will love a prehistoric level! ..... could you kindly point out where and when did ANYONE ask for this? i remember @ironicsnap​ saying something like the game is good until Bob. no, it was already bad - Bob just lowered the standard. like, a lot. people love Murray and his gameplay is neat, but no one ever thought ‘oh i wish we had a Cooper character with Murray’s game style’. why would they waste the opportunity to bring in Henriette, Thaddeus, Otto, literally any ancestor? why??? but they went ahead and created their own Cooper, and that wasn’t even the end of it. they had to make him dumb. they had to make him unbearable. they had to ruin the Cooper ancestry by adding this mess to the lineage. Sucker Punch made sure that all the ancestors were unique, but at the same time made all of them suave and funny and slick and you wish you could be them! well, fuck that. also, his name is Bob. Bob Cooper. it’s been 7 fucking years and i still can’t wrap my head around it.... so now, let’s talk about Le Paradox. i don’t have to mention the previous main villains, but i will. Clockwerk killed Sly’s ancestors and father, and was seemingly an eternal threat. Neyla was a psychopath who fooled everyone on her journey to becoming immortal by resurrecting Clockwerk. Dr M opened up the possibility for Sly’s dad to be a jerk instead of a hero, and died trying to unlock the Coopers’ legacy. how does Le Paradox compare? well, he’s a sleazebag skunk who was mad because of his dad’s downfall to the Coopers. that’s it. no twist, no depth, no clever dialogue. nothing. there’s nothing there. this is a new character, unfamiliar to everyone, who was hyped up for 5 levels and defeated in the conclusion. why was he a match for Sly? i don’t know. how did he fight for his life and ultimately tricked Sly into helping him? i don’t know. how the hell did he kidnap Carmelita? i don’t know. was it the power of persuasion? no, he’s revolting. so i literally don’t know. there’s no backstory, no fleshing-out the character, nothing. all we’re given to work with is a brief info-dump about his dad and how he escaped prison. i don’t know what else to say apart from how big a humiliation this was for Sanzaru and their team of writers. you had 8 years to work on something and this is what you came up with? anything would be better. anything would best this utter cliché of a villain, a distasteful misogynist, crybaby, idiot with an accent. literally anything.

Arcs & Themes: let’s take a look at the formulaic subplots for the gang’s members. apart from dealing with Le Paradox, everyone had a small arc. Sly had to deal with his break-up with Carmelita. Bentley had to deal with his break-up with Penelope. Murray had to deal with playing second fiddle to Bob. Carmelita was a damsel in distress and sex bait for the ancestors. the ancestors had their own mini storylines along with reacting to Sly’s presence. there you have it. i summarised it all for you, nice and neatly. are there any themes like in the previous games? nope. i promise you i’m not lying when i say that i tried hard to come up with something, even some speck of a detail i could use to over-analyse the story and come up with some ideas on themes. nothing. there are no themes. the subplots are character-driven and the player gives it 0 emotional investment. there is nothing to analyse, nothing to talk about. maybe even a theme for each level, like a spooky level or something? nope. the levels are dependent on eras and historical periods. the variation here is ok. Feudal Japan, Wild West, Prehistoric Australia, Medieval England and Ancient Arabia  - pretty good selection. i’ll give them credit for it. but that’s it. due to the absence of themes, the hubs feel empty. there’s no replayability factor. after you collect the bottles and masks and treasures, there’s nothing. i would spend hours revisiting the trilogy’s hubs, just roaming around. the hubs here are huge and empty. there’s nothing to reminisce about. nothing to recall. oh that’s where this mission went down. no, nothing like that. the aforementioned subplots are resolved during mission cutscenes and then they’re gone. you don’t have to explore spooky Prague alone as Bentley to have him overcome his fears, you don’t have to find out miners abducted Murray’s beloved Guru and search the Australian outback for him, you don’t have to hold back your tears when you’ve reached the end of the Cooper Vault and Sly asks his dad for help. nothing.

Gameplay:

Controls: as soon as i laid my hands on the controller the first time i played the game, that fateful afternoon, i knew something was up. Sly would respond 1 second late after you pushed something on the controller. it felt clunky, is what i’m trying to say or, as my sister put it, it felt heavy. and she was right. the controls were clunky and heavy and didn’t feel light, like playing as a thief should feel. i don’t know shit about game mechanics but this definitely didn’t feel right. the hubs are also chunky in design, the cliffs are huge and so cyclical or hexagonal, that when you parachute your way to them and are just an inch close, Sly will automatically just drop because he can’t grab onto them. running as Sly doesn’t feel fast, silently obliterating guards from behind feels slow, and swinging, grabbing, pickpocketting, and hanging aren’t fun anymore. presentation-wise, @designraccoon​ goes into detail here, in an absolute gem of a post. in short, the gameplay animations make Sly look less sneaky. Sanzaru didn’t even consider a thief’s movements.

Missions: why the fuck would you remove the player’s option to choose between which mission to do first? why would you do that? the game lays out what goes first, sometimes having only one mission available in the hub. and the missions aren’t even enjoyable. firstly, the loading screens take up to 5 minutes, maybe even 7-8. secondly, there’s hacking every 2 missions. the missions don’t have any dialogue to make them fun, lack in interesting puzzles, what more can i say? they’re overly easy and lack any challenge whatsoever. at least there’s variation in gameplay (hacking, RC car, fishing, costumes, ancestors, turret etc.) but because of the controls, even these get tiresome. the missions are solely there to progress the story and that’s why the operations are merely ‘storm the main baddie’. the trilogy had some pretty interesting missions which made sure to complete jobs required to take down the big bad. e.g. kidnap General Clawfoot to take down the security, hack Contessa’s computer to make sure Carmelita will be freed, steal voices to tempt Neyla, and then take down the Contessa. the missions in Thieves in Time lack substance and variety. and the hacking (all three styles) sucks.

Collectibles: here’s another fantastic idea: have players collect costumes in order to collect bottles in order to collect treasures in order to collect masks in order to unlock funky Sanzaru logo-themed merch! what was the reason for the collectibles? in previous games, collecting all bottles would unlock special abilities. that was it. it’s the same thing here too, but there’s less incentive? i mean when you have to collect 1000 things, what’s the point? the treasures are random and very few are references to the trilogy, so whatever. and the masks unlock... superhero costumes for what reason exactly? oh, and then there’s also the achievements for your Playstation account, like ‘open the map in every single location you visit’. what fun! if the reason for collecting the treasures is to play godawful hacking minigames in order to get masks, what’s the point? decorate your paraglider with the Sanzaru logo? or have Bentley dress up as discount Robocop? i mean including masks in the interior locations was cool, but the bottles were always supposed to be something you could do whenever your soul desired. sometimes i left them last before the operation, sometimes i collected them before the first mission. so i was pissed when i found out that, in some cases, you had to unlock the episode’s costume in order to get the all the bottles. so, fuck off.

Animation: i’ll keep this short. the animation was terrible. do you remember that tumblr blog from a while back, where she dedicated the posts to pointing out the mistakes in the animated cutscenes? yeah. point is, there were lots of them. the animation style was bad, the character design was ugly, the characters’ movements were unnatural. everything about it was shit. looking past the bad decision to drop the trilogy’s comicbook-style animated cutscenes, couldn’t they have hired someone better? someone with more experience? their concept art was awesome. couldn’t they hire that guy and have it be comicbook style if he wasn’t trained in animation?

Legacy:

The Players: let me ask a genuine question: who was this game made for? kids growing up in 2013? maybe so. because it feels like Sanzaru didn’t even consider the fans of the trilogy. actually, it felt like a huge fuck you. Sucker Punch made their trilogy for whoever. there were great stuff for kids, but adults would pick up and appreciate the references, the real-life setting (e.g. tobacco use, existence of nightclubs, spice instead of drugs, etc.). that’s why all three games are timeless classics. judging by Thieves in Time’s humor, the game wasn’t targeted for adults. so, it doesn’t make sense to use an already established property, beloved by its fans, to attract a new audience consisting of nine year-olds who’d laugh at Murray dressing up as a woman. if they really wanted to appeal to the fans of the original, why retcon everything? why change who the first Cooper was? when the gang’s stranded in Saudi Arabia, why have Sly say ‘i couldn't remember a time since we've teamed up that we felt so defeated’? the gang’s been in way deeper shit before. why the ‘Sly’s dad vs Le Paradox’s dad’ deus ex machina? Sly’s dad wasn’t famous because of stealing the world’s largest diamond, what the fuck are you even talking about? do the guys at Sanzaru have such big egos and bravado that they needed to change the original games’ lore? were they so preoccupied with leaving their signature on a property which was never their own? i don’t know who needs to read this, but i’m stating FACTS.

Characters: now let’s talk about Sanzaru’s treatment of the Cooper gang and the ancestors (female characters will get their own section). why would you change the characters like that? if it wasn’t for the voice acting, i’d say this is a completely different Cooper gang. there’s no wise-cracking band of best friends, going on heists and being proud of their brotherhood and bond. all that is replaced with the formulaic story arcs for each member. the trilogy’s cutscenes and dialogues made sure to establish how Sly, Bentley and Murray have lived together since they met at the orphanage, play videogames all day and order chinese food and pizza and whatever. through missions and their adventures, they face obstacles they have to overcome as a gang, and when Sly 3 came around, their friendship was put to the ultimate test when they almost disbanded. Thieves in Time was too lazy to add to this. Sanzaru thought ‘oh the trilogy showed how they’re best friends so we might as well have them focus on their own stories separately’ and if this is truly the case then i ask again: who was this game made for? because new fans would never know how tight the gang was just by playing Thieves in Time. there’s a lack of genuine friendship moments. like, what happened when Sly came back after faking his amnesia? that’s completely ignored. where’s the witty banter? the ‘wizard & sitting duck’ type of jokes? nothing of the sort. what we get is fart jokes and Murray wanting to dress up as a woman. on that note, what was that all about? ok, have him dress up as a geisha to get in. fine. have El Jefe slap his ass, have him perform in a painfully lengthy dance sequence, have him dress like that during the rest of the episode, and then have him be persistent about getting the belly-dancing gig? the hell? Murray was always kinda goofy but this just feels kinda homophobic? it feels dragged out and unfunny. and then there’s the ancestors. i said it once before and i’ll say it again, Sanzaru deprived me of a buff Arab daddy Salim Al Kupar and gave us that elderly shit instead. all jokes aside, the redesigns were uninteresting. why take away Tennessee Kid’s facial hair and give it to Galleth? i legitimately think all the ancestors were boring. i mean, their gameplay was cool, especially Tennessee Kid’s guns, but in terms of character, they were just some dudes. did they believe that Sly was their descendant from the future? maybe. did they care? nope. they all had the same storyline of dealing with Sly’s arrival, flirting with Carmelita and getting their canes stolen. that was it. the fans waited for so long to get even a glimpse of the ancestors in action, and Sanzaru downplayed all of them. they reduced them to useless idiots too occupied with women and food, incapable of getting their canes back from stupid Le Paradox. and they didn’t even stick to the lore. no ma’am. let’s make Rioichi the inventor of sushi !! because that makes total sense and would defo fit in with the character and the property! why. just, why. you were handed the lore !!! you were given all this rich backstory and you threw it all away to replace it with trash !!! complete trash.

Changes & Inconsistency: i want to briefly mention some changes that pissed me off. where’s the laser glide move? it was an important turning point at the end of Sly 3, so why did they get rid of it? Sly is a master thief who’s traveling back in time, so you’d think they’d actually make him a master thief. also, the changes in the binocucom and Bentley’s slideshows in order to modernise them. if Sucker Punch managed to place the mission starting points at locations where the binocucom would show the objective clearly, so could Sanzaru. instead, they chose to have it be a moving camera, floating around the hub. and Bentley’s slideshows were absolute classics, opportunities to include gags and have Bentley show off in his own way. you just had to change it into a tablet, didn’t you. omg you’re still looking at small details like these? yes sweetie, i consider the details because i think they shape the game more than anything. if i didn’t consider the details, then my opinion on the game would be incomplete. when i praise the trilogy i don’t only look at story and gameplay. because i’m unbiased like that. here, i’d also like the mention Dimitri. what a fucking waste. you either include him in the game or you don’t. but don’t give me some half-baked shit on how he’s working for the gang back in present day. Dimitri staying home, waiting on the gang to call him in order for him to give them details on the villains. how does that even slightly resemble anything about Dimitri’s character? they didn’t even include his voice, some greasy sweet Raccoonus Doodus dialogue.

Female Characters: you know it’s all been leading up to this. this is the crux of the Thieves in Time hate. i don’t want to say the game is misogynistic so i’ll call it anti-feminist. why? just answer me. why? why did you have to disrespect Carmelita like that? right off the bat, they swapped the pants for the skirt. in what world does an active inspector who’s always on the scene wear a skirt? Carmelita now wears a skirt because her only role in the game is to be the love interest. Carmelita now wears bright red lipstick and has a new hairstyle, which would be ok if only it wasn’t Carmelita. Carmelita now plays up her inner sassy Latina because she’s pigeonholed into the ‘angry ex girlfriend’ role. they compartmentalised her, tried to sexualise her because she couldn’t possibly be one of the boys. nope. let’s take a respected woman, high in rank and as physically able as Sly, and turn her into a cliché, an angry ex girlfriend for comedic relief, strip her of her abilities and have her be kidnapped twice, have every exchange with her be about how attractive she is, have almost every male character in the game flirt with her, have her boyfriend be jealous of his own ancestors because they’re flirting with her in order to create purposeless love triangles, and then, after all that, dress her up as a belly dancer and distract some guards while the rest of the gang do the heavy lifting. that last one was really the nail on the coffin. did Bentley have other ways to enter that door? absolutely. so, what the fuck? why did i come back for a good Sly game 8 years later and receive a game where you have to shake your controller to have Carmelita shake her ass? why did they have the guards’ eyes pop like that? why did no one stop them? and it isn’t just Carmelita. it’s Penelope too. god forbid we have a female character who doesn’t have a waist smaller than my finger, and a voluptuous physique. why was the redesign so drastic? the story stuff is also nonsensical. why did she leave? wasn’t she happy with Bentley? i watched her speech about turning on the gang about a thousand times and it still doesn’t make any sense. like, i literally don’t understand. what was her motive? and why reverse her story of overcoming the Black Baron persona and the connotations of a meek woman hiding behind a man’s disguise? why repeat it, shamelessly? do the guys at Sanzaru only know women who have recently broken up? why does Carmelita, Penelope and Ms Decibel all go through break-ups during the game? why does Penelope go against Bentley before they even break up? why waste the opportunity to introduce a new, well-written villain and use it to repeat something already done? why???? no woman is safe from Sanzaru because Ms Decibel... boy, did i feel bad for her. apart from continuously reminding us that she’s haha fat!! she’s also presented as a blind lovefool. love? what a silly concept only women believe in! Ms Decibel had a crush on Le Paradox (for some reason i can’t even fathom) and for that she must pay by being utterly humiliated. and what do ALL women do when a guy breaks up with them? they get so angry! yikes, stay clear guys! ....why does Sanzaru hate female characters? i’m genuinely curious. i mean, what forced them to depict women like this? i’m sorry, i can’t take much more of this.

Ending: and how do you end a disappointment that came 8 years late and didn’t even have a sequel guaranteed? yeap, you guessed it! a cliffhanger. but not just any cliffhanger - a total fuck you to anyone and everyone. with a single move Sanzaru instantly screwed over the franchise. the fans, the creators, the characters, anyone looking to continue the series. everyone. WHY would you trap the protagonist in the past? WHY? did you feel defensive about something that wasn’t even yours and went ‘well you can continue the series but the sequel will have to do with time travel’. why did you think it was a good idea? how does it even slightly resemble a good ending? someone fill me in please. because i don’t think i’m being unreasonable, i’m just telling it how it is.

Conclusion:

i did it. i fucking wrote it in all its motherfucking glory. the idiots at Sanzaru could’ve given us an amazing game but instead of working on how to make it better or including extra levels, they wasted their time on deciding what killable baby animal to include in each hub or what the backstory for each treasure should be. how fucking distasteful. and to think i’m an idiot myself for trying to force myself to like it because i was so in denial about how bad it was. i’ve just outlined everything wrong with that cursed game. i’m exhausted.

[amphibious-thing]

idiot-on-the-hill replied to your post “.”

Please, make a post about all the dumb d'eon was cis theories and why they're dumb. Please, I am begging you. I have never wanted anything more in my entire life, never, I swear 🥺

Well now I have to do it don’t I!

I should probably start by pointing out that all these theories are dumb cause none of them are more plausible than d’Eon being trans, but lets get into some more detail and discuss all the other reasons why these theories are dumb. As some of these theories are reliant on understanding the circumstances of d’Eon’s life around the time that she transitioned, I’ll give a short summary for those who are unfamiliar with d’Eon.

D’Eon was amab and lived the first 40ish years of her life presenting as a man, during this time she was a spy/solider/diplomat. She was a member of King Louis XV secret spy ring, the Secret du Roi. The Secret du Roi answered directly to the king and was unknown to the French government. This put people like d’Eon in a difficult situation where they had to balance what the government wanted them to do with what the King wanted them to do. After the Seven Years War d’Eon was sent to London as a diplomat to help negotiate a peace treaty with England. However she was also secretly being sent by King Louis as a spy to conduct reconnaissance for secret plan to invade England. D’Eon, not wanting to be thrown under the bus if she was discovered doing this, got this order in writing. Long story short d’Eon got into a very public feud with another French diplomat in London which embarrassed the French and led to her bing exiled, at least publicly. Secretly however she was still working as a spy for King Louis and was being paid for this work.

During her exile in London rumours started to spread that she was secretly a woman. While it’s impossible to know how these rumours started many believe that she probably started them herself. While she didn’t comment on the rumours publicly at first she did confirm privately to several people that these rumours were true (its probably worth noting that one of these people was a gossip columnist). After King Louis XV died Louis XVI became king of France. Louis XVI decided to end his grandfathers secret spy ring. However d’Eon had top secret information including the plans to invade England which potentially could have started a war between England and France. She had so far remained quiet about this because she was being paid a salary by Louis XV. Louis XVI knew he had to handle the d’Eon situation carefully. They reached an agreement, d’Eon would return all the sensitive papers she had and remain silent on the top secret information she was privy too and in return King Louis would end her exile in London, award her a lifetime pension and legally recognise her as a woman.

Now onto the dumb theories.

1. D’Eon pretended to be a woman for political reasons

The theory: This theory argues that d’Eon due to her actions would have been locked up in the Bastille had she returned to France as a man. As France was a patriarchal society woman, usually, had less power than men, thus if d’Eon returned as a woman she would have been seen as less of a threat than had she returned as a man. This theory argues that d’Eon pretended to be a woman in hopes that she would be shown leniency due to her gender. It seems this one may have originated form d’Eon’s contemporary Henriette Campan who wrote in her memoirs:

This eccentric being had long solicited permission to return to France; but it was necessary to find a way of sparing the family he had offended the insult they would see in his return; he was therefore made to resume the costume of that sex to which in France everything is pardoned. The desire to see his native land once more determined him to submit to the condition, but he revenged himself by combining the long train of his gown and the three deep ruffles on his sleeves with the attitude and conversation of a grenadier, which made him very disagreeable company.

Why this theory is dumb: The most obvious issue I have with this theory is that had d’Eon decided to live as a woman in hopes that she would be seen as less of a threat, wouldn’t she actively be trying not to cause a fuss to avoid being arrested? Instead she repeatedly tries to rejoin the army as a woman leading her to be arrested anyway. The main problem with this theory however is that d’Eon wasn’t just begging France to take her back she was blackmailing the King of France. If all she wanted to do was return to France and live a quiet life, I don’t see why she couldn’t have done this as a man. Am I really meant to believe that she had enough power to negotiate a life long pension but not enough to return to France as a man had she wanted to. While this theory sort of makes sense if you squint at it form afar, it’s a bit of a reach.

I will say this is probably the best of these theories it really only goes downhill form here folks.

2. King Louis forced d’Eon to live as a woman

The theory: This one is a bit of a variant of the last. In this theory the argument is again that d’Eon was less threatening as a woman than she was as a man. However in this theory it’s not d’Eon who comes up with the plan it’s King Louis.

Why this theory is dumb: Do I really have to justify this theory with response? Do I? I guess I do. Besides the obvious reasons why this theory is dumb, it also doesn’t really make a lot of sense with the information we do have. If it was Louis XVI plan, which seems to be what people are suggesting, why was d’Eon telling people as early as 1772 that she was a woman when Louis XVI was not king until 1774? Louis XVI wouldn’t have even known about the d’Eon problem at this point.

3. Beaumarchais convinced d’Eon to live as a woman

The theory: This theory is a combination of the first two, except in this one it was apparently Beaumarchais idea that d’Eon live as a woman. (For those who are unfamiliar, Beaumarchais was the man sent by Louis XVI to negotiate with d’Eon. He had his own reasons for wanting to gain the favour of the King.)

Why this theory is dumb: d’Eon was already telling people she was a woman before Beaumarchais seems to have had any stake in the plan at all. Also all the reasons why the first two are dumb also apply here.

4. It was the only way to stop the rumours

The theory: This theory argues that d’Eon didn’t start the rumours that she was a woman and that there was just no way for her to stop these rumours other than to accept them as true.

Why this theory is dumb: Are you really telling me that a cis man would chose to live the rest of his life as a woman rather than idk agree to be examined by a doctor?

5. D’Eon was a crossdresser

So first I should acknowledge that the vast majority of people who I see claiming that d’Eon was just a crossdresser, don’t seem to have done much research on d’Eon at all, so they’re mostly just misinformed and don’t have any particular theory or anything. However there is a theory that tries to argue this.

The theory: D’Eon was a crossdresser who was caught wearing woman’s clothing. This started the rumours that she was a woman. D’Eon decided that it was better to be seen as a woman who pretended to be a man than as a man who enjoyed wearing womens clothing. This theory argues that had it been made public that d’Eon was a man who liked to wear woman’s clothing that she could have been executed for sodomy.

Why this theory is dumb: Mostly there just ins’t any evidence that she was ever caught wearing woman’s clothing around this time. The rumours weren’t that she was a man wearing women’s clothing they were that she was a woman wearing men’s clothing. Crossdressing balls were also somewhat popular in England around this time so it seems like a stretch to say that even if this did happen she would have been executed without any evidence of actual sodomy.

6. D’Eon dressed as a woman to seduce women

The theory: This theory suggests that d’Eon was actually a cishet man who pretended to be a woman so she could have sex with married women behind their husbands backs. This theory is usually connected with the rumour that she had an affair with Queen Charlotte.

Why this theory is dumb: d’Eon wasn't even attracted to women.

[raeynbowboi]

Dating Disney: The Little Mermaid

So when I started, Dating Disney, it was with the intention to pin down the fashion validity of Disney’s leading men, but when I started looking at Eric, I found that he’s wearing very hard to pin down clothes. A simple shirt, some pants, boots, and possibly a cummerbund? Or a sash? It’s really unclear. So rather than that, I decided to use clues in the movie to pin down a general historical time frame and location for Disney Movies, and I’m not really going in any order. I stand by Sleeping Beauty being set in mid to late 14th century Italy, but from here on out, I’ll be focused more on history and the movie, using context clues to set a time frame.

Story Origins

Den Lille Havfrue or The Little Mermaid, was written in 1836 and published in 1837 by Hans Christian Andersen, a Danish writer. It was written initially as a discreet love letter to Edvard Collin who had won his fancy. Edvard had gotten himself engaged to then 13-year-old Henriette Tybjerg 3 years earlier in 1833. The story is a highly symbolic depiction of Andersen’s feelings, as Edvard represents the handsome prince, Henriette is the kind foreign princess taking the love of his life, and Andersen is the suffering hero who endures great heartache to be near the one he loves, and is effectively voiceless, unable to speak his true feelings due to the time when he was living in. Henriette was actually so worried that he’d make a scene and declare his love for Edvard at their wedding that they “accidentally” gave him the wrong day, and he missed the ceremony. Thus, Andersen wrote the little mermaid disguised as a wedding gift, which Edvard had little interest in and which Andersen later decided to publish. I won’t do this for all of the stories, mind you, but this one had a very interesting history behind it.

Clothing

The first costume doesn’t appear in the actual movie, but is used occasionally as part of the Disney Prince line-up attire that Eric sports. In this image, he’s sporting a waistcoat, cravat, and tailcoats, all indicative of 19th century men’s fashion. In particular, this look rose to popularity in the 1840s and stayed popular through to the 1850s. Eric’s wedding suit and the engagement suit are both  military jackets that include epaulets on the wedding suit. These are in fact naval admiral jackets, as seen in the below picture.

All of these fashion elements emerged during and following the Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815). Most of the men except Eric have buckles on their shoes. Although we might associate the image more with the 18th century and the American revolution or pilgrims, buckled shoes were still a common sight in the 19th century that it’s not out of place or unreasonable for them to worn in this film.

The widely hated pink dress (and quite unfairly I think) that Ariel wears to dinner seems to fit with 1850s fashion although the large sleeves were apparently designed to resemble 1980′s prom dresses. The blue dress Ariel wears for the date is entirely era inappropriate (especially since her ankles are visible during the Victorian Era), and neither hers nor Vanessa’s corset dresses are fitting for their time period. It should be noted that the visible different skirts was not a trend of the 1800s, and this was the closest example I could find, and even then appears to be an outlier in what’s been recorded of 1850′s fashions. Now, it’s possible that this dress could be old and was just lying around, so even Ariel’s dress is not necessarily proof of a finalized decade, since she could simply be wearing an out of fashion gown.

Technology

The Tobacco pipe that Scuttle calls a Snarfblat, seems to resemble a Calabash type tobacco pipe, first invented in 1898, at least according to one source I found. The Calabash is widely recognized for its saxophone shape, and is closely associated with Sherlock Holmes imagery. There are other types called Bent or Billiard pipes that may have existed earlier, but I couldn’t find when those kinds of tobacco pipes would have been invented.

Eric’s Ship seems to resemble a Galleon, mostly in the bent U shape of the ship and the bulky stern. An evolution of the Portuguese Carrack ships of the 15th century, these Spanish ships were invented initially as armed cargo ships, but were also used as warships. In the early 19th century, they were drafted as auxiliary war vessels, dominating naval warfare for most of the Age of Sailing. Although Eric’s ship is not quite a Galleon, given that his ship as a more noticeably protruding cabin on the ship’s stern, it still maintains the unique U-shape of the vessel.

The type of carriage we see when Eric gives Ariel a tour of his kingdom seems to resemble the Phaeton carriage. Both are four-wheeled carriages with a fold-up back and a swooping decal on the front of the vehicle. Shown to the right is an image of Queen Victoria as a child with her mother in a Phaeton. I don’t have an exact year as the link no longer works with the British Museum of History, but Queen Victoria was born in 1819, and she looks fairly young, so I might posit that this might date anywhere from 1822-1834? But I’m legitimately guessing. The point is, this type of carriage would have existed at this time and later.

When we see the town square of Eric’s kingdom, we see a clocktower and gas lamps. While I couldn’t find an exact year of when clock towers became a common thing, the clock that houses Big Ben in Elizabeth Tower was built in 1844, so that’s a least a clue as to when a much smaller clock might have been commonplace. Gas lamps as a public source of illumination began in 1809, as commemorated by a political cartoon of onlookers marveling at the new wonder.

Geography & Climate

Hurricanes - when the sea storm hits, the sailors declare that the storm is a hurricane. Initially, I assumed the movie was still set in Europe, and I looked up and found that there have in fact been instances of hurricanes hitting the western countries of Europe. However, the palm trees kind of debunked that theory.

Yes, you are in fact seeing palm trees. Growing naturally. In the place Eric calls his kingdom. So we are definitely not in Europe. This is further backed by the fact that a hurricane hit only two or so days ago, and hurricane season tends to be in autumn, while the foliage in Eric’s kingdom is a vibrant summer green. This has lead me to the assumption that Eric’s “kingdom” is a colony in either Florida or more likely, one of the Caribbean islands. Which would most likely mean that Eric is a Spanish prince. This is backed up by the simple fact that the general aesthetic of not only the castle, but the kingdom has a very Spanish look to it. But I’m not really at all well-versed enough in architecture to elaborate other than “it looks kinda Spanish to me”. He could be the son of the Spanish king and ruling this local area due to its economic importance and could possibly have a warship to fight off pirates. Eric might also not be the first in line for the throne, thus this is why he’s so far from home and without any parents around. He came to the new world to rule a smaller slice of his kingdom since he’d probably never be king of Spain. And yes, I did find that there are marshlands in the Caribbean, so Eric and Ariel can still go for their boat ride through the bayou.

There’s also a portrait of Phillip and Aurora in Eric’s dining hall, which means he’s probably related to them. Considering they’re Italian and he’s Spanish, it’s extremely likely. It’s not super relevant, but it’s a neat easter egg. Or if it’s not Phillip and Aurora, it could be Eric’s parents, and it just looks a lot like Phillip and Aurora, which could still be a clue that they’re related. Although the painting is rather recent, not like a 14th century tapestry, so it’s probably either a painting of his parents, or Aurora and Phillip are a big deal in Eric’s family, resulting in them getting a more modern portrait made of them.

Verdict

All around, I would have to say that the movie is set on one of the Caribbean islands under Spanish colonialism in around the mid 19th century. Although the pipe might be from a later decade, it’s such a minor detail, and so late in the century that if anything it’s an outlier in the data. Most of the facts tend to point more toward the early and middle of the 19th century, which is why I lean more toward the early-to-mid 1850s as the era of choice for this film. What this means for the world at large is that both America and France have denounced their monarchs. Victoria took the English throne in 1837 and has been ruling for about 20 years. Charles Darwin’s Origin of the Species sparks outrage among the public at the notion of being a monkey’s nephew. Furthermore, it pretty much dissolves the Little Mermaid from being connected to the Frozen/Tangled conspiracy at all, as Ariel is all the way over in the New World, while Arendale is half-way across the world. It’s possible that the ship could have been commandeered by pirates who sailed the ship to the Caribbean where it was sank, but that’s adding extra steps and filling in blanks to try and force the theory to work. So there you have it, Ariel married a Spanish prince who was a full on navy admiral living in colonial Caribbean islands in the 1850s. Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are. I would not have logically pegged the Caribbean for the setting of the film. But, that’s where the evidence points.

SETTING: A Spanish Colony in the Caribbean

KINGDOM: The Spanish Empire (1492 -1975)

PERIOD: 1850s (Victorian Era)

LANGUAGE: Spanish

[arcadianambivalence]

World on Fire, Episode 4, or How We React to “Normal” in a Crisis

Spring 1940

Months have passed since the last episode, and characters have had time to steady their nerves.  Kasia’s previous reservations about killing Germans is largely gone, Lois has decided to have the baby and not involve Harry in her life, Webster and Albert have resolved to stay together, and Nancy has repeatedly tried to sneak her discoveries into her broadcasts (or to smuggle her research out of Germany) despite blackmail.  

Other characters have started to lose their determination.  Claudia and Uwe’s marriage is falling apart over their differing ideas about how to protect Hilde, Harry is struggling with his responsibilities in combat, and Grzegorz is grappling with his empathy and endurance.

(More under the cut)

The Winter of 1939 – 1940 has ended, and with it, the illusion of peace for Western Europe.  Stationed in Belgium, Harry’s group retreats closer and closer to the French border as the German army arrives with far more resources.  

Meanwhile, the American hospital in Paris receives wounded soldiers from the front.  Refugees fleeing the war need attention too, like a Jewish emigree couple attacked by Anti-Semites, much like Albert was attacked by fascists in the first episode.  Henriette, a nurse and Webster’s friend, confides in him that she is Jewish and had hidden that fact when she applied for work at the hospital.  

Albert and Webster count their days left together.  Webster is happy just to be with him, but Alfred is afraid of being seen.  They’ve been together for half a year, and the closest Alfred can get to public displays of affection is a brief kiss after a furtive look around.  The reasons for this become all too clear when they return to his apartment to find a swastika on the door and a severed pig’s head on the doorstep.  

“I’ll never be safe anywhere in this world,” he tells Webster.  “People have got plenty choice of what they might hate me for.”

(I would like to take a moment and appreciate this show for pointing out the fascist movements and rising acts of intolerance all over Europe in the late 1930s and 1940.  This is especially visible in the Paris subplot, drawing attention to the wide swath of cultures in the city without entirely romanticizing it as a place of absolute refuge from prejudice.  It makes me think the show is laying the foundation for exploring Occupied France and Vichy France next season...)

The German gains in the invasion bring new worry to the Rosslers.  “The better the war goes, the worse for Hilde,” Claudia says.  Uwe is not happy that Nancy and Claudia continue to meet.  Claudia discovers Uwe has registered as a Nazi to cover the family after his conversation with the workers last episode.  She is horrified, and the two have a big argument with Nancy uncomfortably caught in the middle.  “The Nazis are going to win,” Uwe says.  They must appear to be on their side.

Claudia refuses to take the same course of action.  She brings Hilde to Nancy to say goodbye, perhaps permanently.  Mother and daughter will be staying in a little cabin far away from the city and its watchful denouncers.  

Uwe will not be joining them.

Nancy gifts Claudia a bottle of spirits and Hilde American candy, then asks them to listen to her radio show and toast to a better future.

The way Nancy makes sure to place her hand firmly over Claudia’s hurts.

Douglas has concern for his own children’s safety.  Tom returns home on leave and confesses that he is thinking about deserting and becoming an official conscientious objector.  His father has reservations.  Tom could be executed for desertion, and then there are the political ramifications of a pacifist letting his own son into the movement.  Hurt and betrayed, Tom leaves home as if he does not plan on returning.

Things fare little better between Douglas and Lois.  Although Lois adamantly states that she does not want Harry or his mother involved in her life anymore, Douglas tells Robina that Lois is pregnant in the hopes that Robina’s sense of social (and financial) duty to her grandson will override any qualms about class. 

(The cautious back-and-forth between Douglas and Robina is great, as always, and if Harry and Lois don’t get back together, can their parents have something?)

In the middle of these life-changing historical events, characters continue to talk about relationships and their social lives.  Lois can’t bring herself to sing one night because she’s heartsick over the realization that her feelings for Harry was a love for a person that never truly existed.  Robina and Douglas still have small talk while the latter spoons cubes of sugar into his tea.  Stan teases Harry for his two girls back home.  Thomasz and Kasia’s interactions are sweet when they get to act like two young adults who aren’t in an occupied country with their lives at risk every minute...then they casually discuss killing a soldier like it’s a fact of life.  

Moments like this feel like a kick in the teeth.  

On one hand, you could argue that the characters are too blasé about the killings and the risks involved.  At one point, Thomasz arrives late to a rendezvous and gives “There was a round-up” as his explanation, almost as if it’s a regular occurrence.  On the other hand, wouldn’t it have been?  Poland had been occupied for half a year by this point, and maybe Robina was right last episode (to a degree), you do get used to it...or at least, you continue to live alongside it.

All characters undergo a great change in this series, but it’s still startling to see how they react to their circumstances, especially when their reactions are so different from who they were before or how we expected them to be.  

Kasia, Harry, and Grzegorz are all placed in perilous situations that ultimately lead to the decision of whether or not to take someone’s life.  

Kasia lures an SS officer to a secluded part of town with the expectation that Thomasz will kill him, but when Thomasz has not arrived and the officer starts to go too far, Kasia draws a gun from her purse and kills him.  In retaliation for the death of an officer, a new raid is carried out, leading Kasia to come face-to-face with the family of an innocent woman executed for what she did.  

The moral quandary in her storyline returns: if killing the enemy results in the death of innocents, do you kill the enemy?

When Harry kills the German sniper, he does it to save his own life, but he also does it to save the lives of the men in his troop.  It is one of the few sequences in this show that has the kind of heroics expected of war depictions.  But what could in other hands be cathartic violence against non-character antagonists in battle is undercut by Harry’s emotional reaction after the skirmish and the way he freezes at the beginning of the conflict.  

He’s not calm-under-fire war hero of fiction, but he’s not exactly a romantic hero, either.  Yes, he is the romantic lead of the show, but unlike last episode, he spends his few moments of quiet dealing with his deep-seated familial issues brought out by his powerlessness.

On the run from a death squad, Grzegorz holds a German soldier at gunpoint. The soldier, barely an adult and crying in fear, lowers his jammed weapon.  But instead of killing the soldier like Kasia and Harry do, Grzegorz offers his hand.  Despite all of the atrocities he has witnessed in the past year: his father’s death, people burned alive in Danzig, narrowly escaping execution, the massacre on the farm, the starvation and sleeping in the woods...and there is still a kind little boy thrown into something much bigger and meaner than he is underneath the exhaustion and self-preservation.  

It’s Konrad who kills the soldier, to Grzegorz’s horror.

“I killed one German, just like a German killed your dad.” “Not that German.”

The landscape of the woods around them changes.  Snow dusted ground gives way to moss and mud.  A spring fog cloaks their journey.  And just as the natural landscape subtly changes, so does their luck.

The two stumble across a troop of British soldiers (wait, where are they?) and quickly join the men.  Their relief is short-lived, though, and they are soon back in combat.  Konrad is shot through the head.  

In order to air with a certain rating, World on Fire has to clean up some of the images of violence.  You don’t see blood spurt out of people when they’re shot.  The scenes of death are not drawn out. 

But the image of Konrad, dead before he hits the ground, blood covering face, with a stunned Grzegorz kneeling over him shocked me.

When Grzegorz grieves, the loss of his family comes out, too, for his father Stefan and father figure Konrad.

In Grzegorz’s final scene, he stumbles through a forest, the British soldiers long gone.  Spring is here and beautiful, the snow has melted away, the birds are chirping, and green has returned to the Earth.  Grzegorz seems unaware of the world around him, only the journey ahead in the middle of anywhere and nowhere.

Spoiler

The next episode’s promo places him on a beach.  Is he transported out of Poland by a ship on the Baltic sea?  Or are we supposed to believe Grzegorz and Konrad have spent all winter and spring walking through Poland, Denmark, Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, and finally into France?

Notes

Konrad calls Grzegorz son...

After a disastrous cup of tea with Douglas, Robina makes sure to pay for the both of their orders before leaving

Tom brings the canary home, a visual connector between Jan and his bird in the pilot and Tom now

When Kasia breaks the news to the Polish family of the executed woman, Thomasz notices a German officer kissing a Polish woman next door, which indicates that not all Poles consider Germans the same way they do (and raises the threat of someone recognizing them later)

Robina casually mentions the newly-appointed Churchill to see Douglas’s reaction

[sonodaten]

Impressions for Book IV!

I know we’re only two chapters in, but this is the first book I’ve actually been present for the release for, so the hype and theorizing are REAL. Spoilers (I guess? Again, only two chapters in) under cut. Sorry for mobile readers if this doesn’t work bc this shit is LONG.

No-context summary: Can You Tell I Was Really Into Inception When It First Came Out?

Okay, so I know some people aren’t happy about it, but I’m vibing with the whole fairies aesthetic. Especially BC of the whiplash it has re:Book III. I think it’s kinda meant to lure you into a false sense of security/draw your eyes towards the obvious danger—the Nightmares, in this case—so you ignore the less obvious one, which to me, would be Ljósálfheimr itself, but I’ll get to that in a moment.

So, we start out with a sleeping sickness in Askr and the Order of Heroes is sent to investigate, and Henriette gives the team a Censer to protect them (why a Censer and incense when it was obviously something magical and not airborne, I suppose, will become obvious later when the Censer is revealed to be some sort of Deus Ex Machina to get the Heroes out of a pinch when they need it). They get there, they fall asleep, they have a nightmare, Peony saves them, but Alfonso, Sharena, and Anna (Eír and Fjorm whomst? Don’t know them.) are separated from the Summoner, and Peony suggests going to Dream-King Freyr to find them. While en route, Sharena expresses the she remembers Peony and that there was something important about her, but she can’t remember exactly what, and Peony explains (albeit nervously) that this is because all children play with Ljósálfar when they dream, so she may be remembering that time they spent together, and Sharena accepts this explanation. Along the way they meet the first of the Nightmares, Triandra. After defeating her, Peony tells them they have to enter a dream within a dream in order to meet Freyr, and though Alfonse is slightly suspicious, they agree. After they are all asleep, Peony remarks that they all trust her, and now she must do something to earn that trust. I think Alfonse was right to be suspicious, but not because it might have been a trap or anything like that, but because of the inherent dangers of a place like Ljósálfheim in general.

First, entering a dream within a dream? I’ve seen Inception, there’s no fucking way that ends well. Second, where have we seen that before? In the Book IV trailer, we see a repeated sequence at the very end of Alfonse waking up and seeing Peony waiting for him, echoing the opening scene of the cinematic. To me, what this could be hinting at is the future conflict of the book: the heroes, trapped within a never-ending cycle of dreams, unable to tell where one ends and the other begins—one they may very well already be stuck in! If the Heroes are already trapped in a dream cycle, this may not be their first run; they could have been through it possibly a dozen times by now. Sharena has already spoken of remembering Peony, and it may very well be because she has met Peony before in this very scenario and is recalling those other meetings! Now, I don’t think Peony is necessarily evil, so why would she be doing this?

I think it was the Nightmares who struck first, feeding off the fears and worries of the people of Askr. They just lost their King and are still recovering from Hel’s invasion, and I’m assuming are still under the threat of regular invasion from Embla, so safe to say, a lot of people are probably scared and worried, especially those furthest from the castle and Order of Heroes’ protection, like those in the village first ailed by the sleeping sickness. And I think when the Ljósálfar come, they have good intentions. A lot of Peony’s dialogue (in the home screen, combat, etc) mentions wanting to take away mortals’ fears and worries by wrapping them up in a nice, cushy dream, like a warm blanket to keep them safe. Whether this is specific to Peony, or extends to all Ljósálfar, we don’t know yet; we haven’t met any others. I think in order to alleviate the Nightmares and alleviate the worry plaguing the Askr citizens, the Ljósálfar are trapping them deeper and deeper within happy dreams, and thus, dragging them deeper and deeper into Ljósálfheimr. Why so deep? Well, normally, they work with children, right? Children’s fears are much easier to alleviate than an adult’s, so to properly soothe the adult villagers, they need to be pulled under more and more layers of dreams in order to forget what’s worrying them.

Remember when I mentioned that Ljósálfheimr might become the less obvious danger in this book? It’s quite literally a dream land—anything you want can be a reality, and your wildest wishes can come true as long as you believe hard enough. It’s amazing, literally a dream come true! Why? Would? You? Ever? Leave? Would you even realize you were trapped in a dream? If you did, would you want to go back? To your king-less lands ravaged by war, with the constant threat of more? To an Order of Heroes who can only react, never prevent? To a Prince who would rather play hero and war than rule over his people? To a Princess who was never even given a chance at the throne? Should they leave? Would you? You can say all you want that you don’t like the look the book is going for, but we knew instantly that the Realm of Hel was dangerous; Ljósálfheimr only wants you to think that it’s innocent when it’s insidiousness bubbles just beneath the surface and I, personally, find that all the more fascinating. Your mind, free to wander in pure, blissful ignorance while your body wastes away into nothingness in the real world.

But how did the Nightmares know to come to Askr? Fucking Loki. Why? To further her Meta Goal. Whatever the fuck that is. Next question.

Where is the Summoner? This could . . . go many different ways, to be honest. I’d be happy to see it go anyway. One option is that the Summoner is trapped by the Nightmares and separated somewhere else in the dream, captured by the enemy and must learn to harness the power of the dream (through the Censer??? Maybe somehow being a part of Breidablik) and free themselves and reunite with their friends, which will break the dream cycle (probably by finally appearing when Alfonse wishes for them?) and allow them to finally create a scenario to escape. OR, and here’s one I like the most the more I think about it: the Summoner didn’t appear when Alfonse wished for them (bc let’s be real: Alfonse may be a bit of a stick in the mud sometimes, but he cares deeply about his friends, and if he wished for the Summoner to be reunited with them, then goddamnit, IT WAS GONNA COME FROM THE BOTTOM OF HIS HEART) bc they are all trapped in a cycle within the Summoner’s dream.

Peony just says that it’s a dream, so wishes can come true, but she never specifies whose dream it is. If there were something preventing the Summoner from entering/being pulled into Ljósálfheimr like the others (Censer combined with Breidablik, maybe? or just the fact that the Summoner is from a different world entirely?), it would make sense that Alfonse couldn’t interact with a dreamscape that wasn’t his own and that the Summoner wasn’t with them, and make it easier to trap them in a dream cycle (as you can see, I’m hinging a lot on this dream cycle theory). I just think it would be cool to see some Summoner Solo-Badassery and have them come to the Heroes rescue. I know they are a squishy tactician, but just once, please. I just think it would be a fun and sexy time for the Summoner and everyone else involved.

And then there’s the Nightmares. Specifically, we may get to see the Heroes facing off against their own, personal Nightmares. Anna’s nightmare? Being penniless, obviously, but deeper than that—having to cut back on important resources and items for the Order of Heroes, and it results in catastrophe, failing not only her fellow soldiers, but the citizens of Askr that she swore to protect. Alfonse? Dealing with the grief of losing his father, having to choose between protecting his people in the Order of Heroes or guiding them as their King, and choosing wrong; having to choose between saving Zacharias or killing him and protecting his people. Sharena? Also dealing with the loss of her father, but now faced with a whole new monster that is the renewed terror of what could happen if she loses Alfonse, the only other member of her family that (in my opinion) really cares for her; losing all her friends and ending up alone. And the Summoner? After seeing everything they have, what would be worse than having to go back to their own world, powerless, slowly forgetting their friends? So much potential there for development with each one, and I really hope they do something with it.

I think in the end Peony and the Ljósálfar have good intentions, but their methods are heavy-handed and dangerous, maybe even downright lethal to the people they’re trying to help (especially if an Emblian invasion were to come along while they were asleep and defenseless). In the end, I think this Book has a TON of potential. Sure, maybe it doesn’t feel “Fire Emblem” at first, but like the bones are there jfc at least wait until a couple of chapters are out until we can know, you know? And really, in a world that has elves, magic, dragons, people who can turn into dragons, people who can turn into birds, people who can turn into wolves, kitsune, whatever the fuck Caingheis is, you’re gonna tell me that . . . fairies is too far of a stretch? Okay.

[moe-broey]

OKAY. I'm having Thoughts about the recent chapters....

Henriette knows more than she's letting on. I feel very strongly that Alfonse knows something as well. Unfortunately it seems like Sharena doesn't know anything. But I have thoughts about that too...

I'm thinking about Valentine's Henriette's crit quotes, "I AM holding back", "That power, never again...", "I don't want to lose control". I'm thinking about how she's been treated during the story so far. How despite hinting at having great power, she was easily defeated and severely injured in the last book. And in this book, how Alfonse insists on keeping her safe in the castle, away from conflict, which I think is very interesting as well.

I mean, it does make a lot of sense when you consider all the factors at play here! There's what happened previously (and recently I should add), the fact that she IS his mom, and on top of that she's the queen currently ruling over an entire country. Of course Alfonse would be worried and have both emotional and practical reasons to want to protect her. (I also think it's interesting how he feels the need to protect his mom, a parental figure who should be protecting him instead... this is more an observation about Alfonse himself, and the lofty amount of responsibility he puts on to himself. Like yeah, there are plenty of cases where it's normal for a parent's child to want their parents safe! But I almost feel like the roles have been reversed here? Then again I am only going off of so much limited information).

I feel like we're definitely missing information here though. Information that I wonder if Alfonse knows.

It's VERY likely that Henriette is hiding a dormant power that is unstable if provoked. And if she's always trying to keep it in check, at all costs, that would explain why she was taken down so easily. She'd rather be defeated in battle than lose control (perhaps fearing the destruction her power could cause?).

In these recent chapters we learn more about Askr, the dragon god, and we learn that the Askran royal family IS blessed with dragon blood. I wonder if it's anything like Fates, where the royals do have dragon blood but only a few select people can actually transform into dragons (like Corrin). Thinking about it from this angle too, Corrin was unstable when they transformed and only gained control over their dragon form when Azura helped them and gave them a Dragon Stone.

I'm just spitballing though lmaoo, but going with this idea? And going with the idea that Alfonse knows his mom's situation, I feel like everything starts to make a lot of sense. Maybe he was told of it, being the crown prince who's expected to take the throne, or maybe he found out by accident. And whether or not he was told to hide this information from Sharena, I think he would naturally hide it from her anyway. To protect her? To not cause worry? "My brother prefers not to burden me. I suppose that could mean he thinks I'm not up to the task." Sharena says it herself! If Alfonse can do anything to protect her, he will. Even if it means sheltering her, and taking all the responsibility for himself.

Anyway it's nothing conclusive, I'm sure we're gonna learn all about it in future chapters, I think Sharena should get in a fight with Alfonse that results in her getting more agency, being babied less, and him trusting and relying on her more. Also hoping and praying that Henriette doesn't die KSJSKSKSKSHSKJDSK (YOU KNOW HOW IT IS WITH FE PARENTS)

[sidhewrites]

CHAPTER 1B. Approx 2100 words. Previous Installment found here. As always, feel free to send Asks or Messages about what’s written or anything you’re curious about.

Content Warning: Body Horror, Fantasy Violence.

She hated crowds almost as much as she hated having something on her face, and was grateful that Agnes was satisfied in getting her this far out of the house. Winnie was allowed to stand on the sidelines, keeping an eye on the children and staying away from the confetti and glitter. The boys had demanded dusted mica on their faces and tiny paper stars for all of them, as befitting unmarried ladies on Mirinmas.

“Neither of you are ladies,” she’d said.

They then demanded to be ladies for the night, to the point of borrowing short aprons and wrapping them around their waists as makeshift skirts, insisting they were now named Henriette and Tomasine. Their victory cries resounded as Duva handed them a small bag of mica each, and very nearly coated themselves and everyone else with it. Mercifully, Agnes was able to talk the two into letting Winnie get away with just a light dusting of the mica on her cheeks, while the two now-ladies dumped the rest all over themselves and left motes of shimmering dust wherever they went, running beneath the legs of the stilt walkers and underneath the fire dancers -- as far as they can get before the leads pulled taught and Winnifred would drag them back to her and chide them for going too far.

She was hardly a strong woman, with thin arms and weak constitution, and her glare couldn’t even convince a fire to burn. But they knew she would report back to Agnes. And then the true trouble would begin.

So they stayed close, sometimes reluctantly, sometimes excited to bring back the spoils of their adventuring. Shop merchants handed out any number of little gifts for the children: tiny golden stars, little paper hats, and more handfuls of shimmering mica dust to dump on Winnie’s skirts and shoes. She would be a walking mirror by the end of the night, if they kept this up.

“Where did you get this one?” She knelt down in front of Henriette-not-Henri, picking up a small, whittled rabbit. The toys merchants gave out tonight were meant to be circles, crescents and stars -- Grande Fabricante Mirin’s symbols. Animals belonged to the seasonal fetes, not midsummer parades. How out of place.

“A wolf,” Henriette-not-Henri said, referring to the mask the merchant must have been wearing..

“He was a bear,” Tomasine-not-Tomas corrected. “And he needed a bath!” They bickered, even as Winnie begged them to settle down, unable to agree on anything but the fact that the man smelled like the bog, and wore a mask of some sort. Winnie tried to mediate the argument for a short while, but arguments had never been her strong suit. In the end, she left them to it, as she scanned the crowd to see who might be handing out the wrong decorations so early in the night, and judging herself for daring to judge others, when she was still wearing pink taffeta and too much embroidery. The boys danced around her, tangling her up as they whooped and yelped, and paraded their gifts about. But as Winnie tried to keep up, she took a step forward, and stumbled backwards. The world tilted quickly -- but steady and strong hands caught her before she hit the ground.

Winnie’s breath flew from her lungs all the same, and she only just barely registered the boys’ laughter fading away as they ran into the throng once more. Sacha Francame held her up, speaking with a soft voice more befitting of a poet than a soldier. “Are you all right?”

She could barely hear him over the noise, and stammered, managing to squeal out a, “Yes, thank you.”

Sacha only nodded with that subdued, shy smile he was known for. He gave it to everyone, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this one was just for her. “Children can be difficult to wrangle. I’ll never know how anyone manages it on their own.”

“Oh -- “ she flushed pink.

“We’re not hers,” Tomas said, hands on his hips.

Henri contributed a long, drawn out “Yeah!” before something shining caught their eye and they ran off again.  

“Oh, no they’re not mine, ah...t-they’re my friends. I’m only watching the boys -- er -- “ She glanced down “--Girls, I suppose, until their sister’s done dancing.” She was tied down to no one and nothing, of course. Free for -- err. Well. Certainly not courting. Winnie didn’t think she’d survive such a thing from anyone, least of all by Sacha.

“You’re not sure which one they are?” He had a confused smile, one brow raised and eyes glittering in the way she loved. The way all the girls loved.

She shook her head. “Well, they’re usually boys. But they want to be girls tonight, so they can wear the glitter on their cheeks.”

“It’s a shame we can’t all wear it, no?” he asked, chuckling lightly, glancing at the mica on Winnie’s own cheeks.

Winnie blushed again, unable to meet his gaze. She tried and failed not to grin herself, a silly, dimpled look that didn’t belong on a girl like her. Sacha shifted beside her, unsure of how to proceed, and settled for a short bow, and extended his hand “I’m Sacha Francame, by the way. I wasn’t sure if you…”

“Oh, yes!” She answered, a bit too quickly. “I do know who you are, yes. Um. Winnifred Ashely.”

If he recognised her name, he didn’t show it. “And are you enjoying yourself this evening, Mademoiselle Ashley?”

Her father had been a proud chatvalier once in his youth, never accepting a promotion above the vanguard despite his family’s wealth, and leaving to marry her mother. His death at the hands of a demon had hit many of the older soldiers hard. They looked at her the way everyone in Moriel’s had, with distant pity and sorrow. She hated the look, It only endeared Sacha to her further to see his smile unchanged.

“I’m …” she hesitated, knowing it was the polite thing to lie. But she’d never been good at deception. Finally, she admitted, “That is, crowds and celebrations have never been my place of comfort.”

“Would you believe it if I said I feel exactly the same?”

She fought the urge to gape. He was one of the proudest chatvaliers, a public figure if ever there was one. “But there was an entire ball in your honor just weeks ago!”

“It wasn’t just for me --” he began, but the boys announced themselves before he could finish.

“Winnie, look what we found on the ground.” Thomas waved something wildly in his hand as he ran up to her. Winnie fought back her ire to kneel down and look at his latest treasure attentively. She was meant to be watching the boys, after all, rather than flirting with Chatvalier.They boys ran off as soon as she’d taken it, certain they’d found her the perfect gift. Upon closer inspection, the gift turned out to be a handkerchief, well-loved and powder blue, with a clever golden W embroidered in one of the corners.

Winnie’s heart stuttered at the sight of it. The last time she’d seen something like this had been…

Green tea in paper cups. Three low candles in the attif window. A midsummer thunderstorm. And a powder blue handkerchief.

Noises seemed to fade around her

Still -- she caught a glimpse of somewhere in the crowd -- stark white hair against golden skin, curling just above his ears. The boys tugged on her skirt and ran off again to find more prizes, and she nodded only vaguely, standing on her toes to see … there it was. There he was. That shock of curls, cut just above the ears. She knew that hair and -- he turned just enough for her to catch sight of a young man’s soft features in the firelight.

It had to be him. She couldn’t let herself think it wasn’t.

“I’m terribly sorry…” she heard herself say, taking a step forward before she knew what she was doing. “I, ah…”

“Mademoiselle Ashley, don’t--” Sacha reached out, pulling her back right before a horse-drawn cart rolled swiftly before her, its rider too drunk to care where he was. He held her close for a moment, watching the horse make its way through the crowd. “Are you all right?”

She wasn’t. Winnie looked through the crowd again, but that white hair was gone, and her hopes with it. An old wound felt like it had opened up, and before she knew what was happening, tears slid down her face.

“Mademoiselle Ashley?”

She hardly registered him there, still holding her, face lined with worry. It took a moment to regain even a hint of her senses and she pulled herself away in an instant.  

“Why don’t we find you a seat? I’ll get you something to drink.”

Winnie nodded absently. Sacha was gentle, a hand on her back, directing her to a bench away from the festivities, where it was darker and just quiet enough to hear herself think. She sat ungracefully, with only just enough presence of mind to feel shame about it.

Sacha knelt before her, looking up into her eyes. “Will you be alright for a moment?”

Her ears burned red. She nodded again, cursing the frantic beating of her heart. “I’m quite alright, I’m sure.”

“Of course. Does brandy agree with you?”

“Ah --” She hesitated, having realized what he’d done, but not sure it was wise to argue, especially in her current state. Her head still spun, if only slightly. It was likely because of how close he’d been to her just a moment ago -- how he  “Yes. Brandy’s all right.”

“I’ll be back in a moment, then.” Sacha stood, hesitated, and then bowed.

The flush spread from her ears to her face, and Winnie looked down herself, trying to look like she was returning the gesture, rather than hiding from him.

She glanced up to see Sacha’s smile just before he turned to make his way back through the crowd. He was too courteous. Frustratingly handsome. Maybe -- well. Possibly, maybe, if it seemed convenient, she might entertain the idea of Sacha asking her to dance after this. Maybe not in the crowd, but certainly close enough to hear the music. But it was all too romantic, and she stopped herself before she began imagining the idea of his hand on her waist or holding her hand, or touching her face, or…

Winnie shook her head, glancing down at her hands, and the blue handkerchief in it. It had to be a coincidence, of course. This looked far too new to have ever been hers, and she couldn’t be the only girl whose name started with a W in Merveaux -- and certainly not the only one who liked powder blue.

Something sounded behind her -- a wet, sickly sound, like mud trying to hold itself together, only the barest hints of bones. An old, familiar scent reached her nose. The smell of festering corpses and rot, bile and decay.

Winnie didn’t need to see them to know what was there, but she looked anyway. Three formless, seeping masses of ashen flesh, trying to hold themselves together with the magic of their summoner, peering at her with their wretched, bloodshot red eyes. Spindly, creaking arms reached out at her, and the flesh between the eyes tore itself apart wetly, revealing shapeless holes filled with vicious yellow teeth, each one dripping in their watery black blood.

Blights.

Pulled fresh from the ground.

She never had a skill for magic. Demons like these should care little for her. But logic fled in an instant, with those awful eyes, and those dripping teeth, and a single bony hand brushed against her skin, cold and moist. Winnie ran.

Demons were hungry when they crossed over from their realm, and even a magicless morsel like her would do. They dragged themselves along the ground faster than she could run, clawing with spindly arms. Sharp teeth sank into her shoulder, ripping a scream from her lungs, and sight from her eyes. Another mouth latched onto her side. She doubled over, and it let go, having been bitten and dragged down by the slowest of the three.

She fell forward, suddenly free of the weight, and the Blight on her shoulder took most of the blow, it’s soft skull crunching on the cobbled street. Stunned and injured, its mouth fell open just enough to release her, and Winnie managed to stand again, shrugging the mass off and ignoring the sight of its blood all along its sleeves, or the sensation of its tongue as it probed the fabric of her jacket in search of her flesh.

The sound of more blights echoed behind her -- or was she simply remembering the horde from her childhood?

Regardless, she ran.

Winnie burst through the crowd, careless of those she bumped into, pressing forward. The boys -- Saints, she’d left the boys alone. Where were they?

She reeled, looking through the crowd, trying to retrace her steps, until finally she caught sight of Duva’s tight curls, standing half a head above the crowd. She made a beeline, stopping only when she finally was close enough to see her, and Agnes, and the boys talking to Sasha, not a one of them hurt. If Winnie had her wits about her, she might have realized how utterly livid Agnes was.

She seethed, holding Henri on her hip, gripping Tomas’ hand tight. “Where have you been,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“There -- there are…” Winnie began, failing to catch her breath in time to speak.

“You left the boys alone! You just wandered off. Winnie, what were you thinking!?”

She hadn’t been thinking. Not of the present, at least. And now -- Blights. She had to tell them, there were Blights coming this way. Her shoulder throbbed, and she shoved her curls over her shoulders, revealing the deep red seeping out of the torn jacket.

The anger and color drained from Agnes’ face. She and Duva both rushed forward, Duva putting an arm around Winnie to support her, Agnes pushing hair away from her wan, sweating face.

Was she feverish? She felt feverish.

“What happened?” Agnes asked, but her voice seemed far away. “Winnie? Winn?”

She said something else, but Winnie didn’t hear it clearly, and shook her head. Dark spots that had been blooming in the corners of her eyes overtook her vision.

“A blight…” she managed, just as someone screamed. Three wet, formless masses broke into the crowd, just as Winnie gave out.

Tag List: @fearlings-lament @maitretmaitresse @purpleshadows1989 @madammuffins

[iturbide]

Gustav wasn’t exactly my favorite person, but gdi the whole “stern dad that actually ends up caring in the end” thing is probably one of my favorite tropes. RIP Gustav.

I zonked out really early last night and waking up to this ask in my inbox had me really confused until I remembered oh yeah new Heroes and new chapter drop today

I’m really glad there are people out there who like that trope though because I’ll be honest?

I hate it. 

I hate it a lot. 

I have been a seething ball of rage since finishing so I apologize profusely in advance but there’s going to be a lot of ranting under the cut. 

So I’ve actually seen a lot of really interesting posts cross my dash today regarding Gustav, namely Avistella’s break-down of how he could have been a good character and jejecchi’s two part speculative analysis based on the full chapter in hindsight.  And they both make good points!  As a character, Gustav is certainly interesting, and I do respect him – but I can also respect Frederick and Validar as characters, and I think I’ve made it clear in the past exactly how I feel about them both. 

And the issue that I have with Gustav is very much about the choices he made.  We haven’t known him in person for long, but we’ve certainly heard about him in the past two books, and what we’ve learned paints a troubling picture: Alfonse states outright in Book Two Chapter 4 (Fiery Resolve) that he and his father had a falling out over Alfonse’s choice to join the Order: 

In fact, when I decided to join the Order of Heroes…there were many who opposed that choice. My father is one of them. He was very angry with me. He still won’t see me when I’m at the royal residence…

That’s an incredibly harsh response to someone who is only trying to do their part in helping the people they’ll someday rule.  He clearly never explained what his problem was with Alfonse joining the order, either, clearly demonstrating that Gustav is a man who demands obedience, rather than giving his children reasons why.  And that’s extremely troubling to me, because it heavily implies that Gustav is an emotionally neglectful parent at the very best (and possibly an abusive one, at worst).

And then we get to Book 3, and it gets infinitely worse.  Gustav himself gives absolutely no indication that he cares for his children: only Henriette does at the start of Book 3 Chapter 2 (The Dread Gate), and is then chided for it:

Gustav: Son.Alfonse: Father… It has been some time since we have spoken. I am honored to be invited to this audience.Gustav: And?Alfonse: Er…Henriette: Oh, Alfonse! Don’t be nervous. He’s missed you so much! It’s been far too long.Gustav: Henriette… Please, be discreet.Henriette: My mistake!

What’s worse, though, is that this chapter shows in unmistakable terms how harsh a father Gustav is, even when his children obey his orders.  At the start of the chapter, he tells Alfonse that protecting the people is their top priority: 

Gustav: We must stop them. No injury can befall our people. Do you understand, my son?Alfonse: Yes, Father. I will not fail you.

But when the Order comes across Hel’s army marching toward a defenseless Askran town and attempt to delay them until the main army arrives, Gustav’s response is not one of pride:

Gustav: I’ve heard about what happened here. Why would you take such a foolish risk?Alfonse: The people…Sharena: Father, we—we had to protect—Gustav: I was speaking to your brother, Sharena.Sharena: Yes, sir.Alfonse: The enemy was on the march. The town had no defenses… We had to do what we could to stop them, so I came up with a plan.Gustav: You thought you could face an army? Hardly. If you had miscalculated even slightly, you’d be dead now. Dead, Alfonse.Alfonse: Yes, Father. That is so.Gustav: I commend the Order of Heroes for its victory over Múspell. There is something you need to understand, however. You are not a Hero, Alfonse. You need not be amidst them, waving your sword about. Your place is elsewhere.

Gustav: You are moved to save people. Is that it? But a king’s duty is not to rescue those he sees in front of him… A king’s domain holds thousands. Protecting each and every one of them—that is the duty of a king. I am not sure you are capable of that—not yet, at any rate.Alfonse: I…I can’t… No, I am not ready, so I… While you reign—I thought I could help the people.Gustav: And if I die? You would be king. Are you ready to rule Askr?Alfonse: I… No, I am not. Not yet. I am no match for you, Father.Gustav: And if you died in battle, what then? The time I have left is shorter than you realize. I will die one day, and it will be sooner than you think. What will that day mean for Askr and its people?Alfonse: I… They…Gustav: Your life is not that of a swordsman rushing to the rescue. Your role is to lead this land and its people. If you can only comprehend the suffering that is right in front of your face… Then your compassion has its limits. You are far from ready to be king.

Alfonse did exactly what his father told him to.  He put the lives of the people first.  And Gustav not only chides him for it while completely changing the context of his original order, he does it publicly, in front of the entire Order (and won’t even let Sharena speak, which is on another level of cruelty entirely).  So Gustav has not only berated Alfonse for following his initial orders exactly, he has placed all the blame on his son rather than admitting that he gave poor guidance.  Again, this points to a worrisome pattern of psychologically abusive behavior. 

Now, I fully believe that Gustav cares about Alfonse, and always has: at the start of Book 3 Chapter 3 (Countdown), he specifically warns his son not to engage Hel, and to run should he see her.  But the way he demonstrates his affection in most cases is extremely problematic.  He takes an authoritarian approach in his interactions with Alfonse, trying to mold him through what amounts to ‘tough love, but offers no support, no guidance, no clear examples or explanations for exactly what he wants.  In hindsight, this distance he has placed between himself and his children may be a consequence of how he lost his own father in his youth – but that by no means excuses the behavior.  Frankly, it makes things worse because it shows how selfish he is: in order to spare himself the pain of a possible loss, he made the choice to raise Alfonse and Sharena this way, to give them little to no emotional support, to demand complete obedience without explanation, to provide no guidance that could mold his heir into the king that he so clearly wants Alfonse to be based on his harsh criticisms from the end of “The Makings of a King.”

And then, of course, we get to A King’s Worth. 

It’s very likely that Gustav made the decision from the outset to give his life in order to save Alfonse.  His dialogue in the opening of “No Cheating Death” is very striking in that he never states explicitly that his son is the one who will die: 

Gustav: So you have been cursed by Hel.Alfonse: I disobeyed you, Father.  I am sorry.Anna: If I may, your majesty…the attack was sudden.  Our scouts never even saw her.  They appeared suddenly, like ghosts…we had no chance to disengage. Gustav: Your mistake was setting foot on the battlefield at all.  This is the consequence of Alfonse’s rashness. Alfonse: Father…I’m so sorry.Gustav: Hel…she claimed my father’s life, too…there are no options left, Alfonse.  There is no escaping her curse. Henriette: Gustav!  This is our son’s life you’re talking about!Gustav: Henriette, please, listen.  All of you must listen to what I say now.  The royal family of Askr, our family, has suffered a loss.  We must accept that and move forward. Sharena: Father!  You can’t mean that!  Alfonse is alive!  He’s right here beside you!  There must be something we can do…Gustav: Death will not be turned away.Sharena: We can’t know that unless we try!Gustav: Enough.  I will rejoin my forces.  I must consider our next move. Sharena: Father…Alfonse: I have failed you, Father.  I am sorry.  But until the moment I die, I will continue to seek a means of defeating Hel.  My only hope is that, in the time I have left, I can find some way to be of use…Gustav: Very well.

Now, in the moment everyone understandably jumps to the conclusion that he’s talking about Alfonse.  But aside from his rather customary harsh beratement, he is evasive in his terminology, saying that the royal family of Askr has suffered a loss, rather than saying that they’ve lost an heir or anything similar.  But you know what else he does?  He leaves.  He doesn’t stay with his son, he doesn’t offer any comfort to this young man who believes himself fated for death – he just leaves, allowing Alfonse to believe himself a failure and desperately seeking a way to atone, despite the fact that he is almost certainly going to be putting his life at greater risk in the process. 

And then we get to the post-chapter moment of “Wolfskin Family,” the first moment where we see a true glimpse of something more like traditional parental affection from Gustav as he privately meets his son: 

Gustav: Son.Alfonse: Hello, Father.Gustav: This isn’t a social call, Alfonse.  I am on my way to a conference with my knights. Alfonse: I understand.  If you have no objection, however, I’d gladly guard you ‘til you join up with the army. Gustav: There is no need.  Am I so infirm that I must lean on my son’s arm? Alfonse: M-my apologies. Gustav: *sigh* Do you remember this, Alfonse?Alfonse: A dead branch?  It looks quite old…no, I don’t remember it. Gustav: I see.  Well, never mind.  Do not concern yourself over me.  I will rendezvous with my forces. Alfonse: Father, wait.  Please, let me–Gustav: I told you, boy.  There is no need.  Worry about your own skin. Alfonse: My apologies.  Again.  What was that branch, I wonder?

I was admittedly shocked going through this section because of the softness in Gustav’s expression as he talks about that branch.  I have no doubt that it has some sentimental value, likely something associated with Alfonse.  But equally striking to me is how Gustav treats his son immediately before and after that: First he snaps at Alfonse for wanting to accompany his father and spend some of what little time he has left with a man he deeply admires and knows so poorly (and while Gustav may have been attempting to joke, Alfonse’s immediate deference proves that it was poorly done – and then rather than apologize while he has a chance, he just sighs and presses on); and then snapping at him again, patronizingly calling him boy and telling him to worry about his own skin – and once again chasing him off and leaving him apologizing profusely as though wanting to spend time with his father is some offense. 

And then there’s “Death’s Arrival.”  Once again, we see this brief moment where Gustav shows something that looks like parental affection as he seeks Alfonse out, likely knowing that this will be the last chance he has to spend time with his son, and tries to prepare him for what’s to come:

Alfonse: *sigh*Gustav: Alfonse.Alfonse: Father!Gustav: It’s today, isn’t it…were you able to find a way to dispel Hel’s curse in time? Alfonse: No.  I have no excuse for what has befallen me. Gustav: Do not apologize, my son.  We knew this day would come.  There is no escaping death.  Alfonse…stay close to me today.  Keep your allies close, too.  When the curse comes due, I expect Hel to appear and pluck the life from your paralyzed body herself…Alfonse: Giving us a chance to strike. Gustav: No.  You cannot kill Death.  Even if we attack her then, she will not fall.  However, we may catch a glimpse of something…a weakness, perhaps, that will lead to her downfall. Alfonse: I understand.  I will do as you command, Father.  Even though I die, it may not be for nothing.  I hope so, anyway.  I am sure you will defeat her, Father, or perhaps Kiran.  I will hold fast to that hope. 

Not only that, we even see what could be construed as a moment of self-reflection: 

Alfonse: Father…heh.Gustav: Is something amusing? Alfonse: Ah!  I’m sorry.  I’m just reflecting on something Mother told me.  She said that, in your youth, you were much like me. Gustav: Did she, now?  I must admit it.  Wet behind the ears, I was.  Weapon in hand, I traveled the realms, always ready for battle…I was no different than you, it is true.  Yet look at me now, lecturing you…Alfonse: You misunderstand me, Father.  I was happy to hear that I put Mother in mind of you.  As for your concern and your guidance…they mean everything to me. Gustav: *sigh*Alfonse: Today is the day I will die.  I have failed in my duty as your successor.  That is my deepest regret.  Yet to be able to speak so frankly with you here and now…I am overjoyed. Gustav: Alfonse…

It’s heartbreaking to see how much this brief contact means to Alfonse, how starved he is for parental affection.  And even Gustav seems to notice this, given how he sighs at his son’s heartfelt confession.  But though he has an opportunity, he offers to encouragement to his son.  He does not tell Alfonse that he is proud of him.  He holds his tongue, and lets his son resign himself to death with the belief that he is a failure. 

Of course, then comes the climax, when Hel appears to claim Alfonse’s life – and Gustav takes the blow instead. 

Hel: You…shielded him. Gustav: I understand your curse, Hel – it is a curse on the blood of Askr.  That lesson, I learned from my father.  I am Askran royalty, and it is my life that will be added to the numbers of the dead.  The conditions of your curse are fulfilled.  Depart this place, death god. Alfonse: Father? Hel: Fool.  Look at you, awash in sentimentality…what has it cost you?  You have no right to call yourself a king. Gustav: You comprehend nothing. Hel: What? Gustav: My life exists only for the people of this land.  I have never lost sight of that.  Since the day I lost my father…I swore never to forget that duty.  How much longer would I have lived?  My son is young, and he is certainly worthy.  As king, what choice did I have? Hel: So you think this princeling has the makings of a king…then die without regret.  As ruler of the dead, I declare your life at an end. Alfonse: No!Gustav: Alfonse…become a king, my son.

This is the first time we ever hear Gustav speak of his son with any kind of pride.  This is the first time he has ever expressed any kind of approval for Alfonse.  After four chapters of cruelty, this act is supposed to absolve him. 

And it doesn’t.  Because all he was doing was being selfish.  He states outright, in his own words, that this is practicality: he gives his life because his own is short by comparison, and his people are his primary concern.  He claims his duty is to his people, so he forfeits his life for their sake…

…and in so doing, leaves behind the son who he has constantly belittled and accused of being unready to rule with the burden of rule.  He has taken no time to try and teach Alfonse how to be a king, has made no effort to teach him what it takes to rule, he simply abandons his son to this task. 

He is a coward. 

That’s really what it comes down to, as far as I’m concerned: his final act was nothing but pure selfishness, foisting off his duty on his unprepared heir after a lifetime of emotionally distancing himself for his own sake.  He left his children idolizing him in the same way that the Kanas idolize their parents: as distant, unreachable figures – and in the same way, Alfonse has sought so desperately to prove his worth to someone who only in his last moments treated him with anything approaching care.  

I honestly don’t want Gustav to rest in peace.  I want to march straight into Hel and drag him back out to make right the mess he made. 

[summoner-kentauris]

Do you have any headcanons about what Zacharias' relationship with Gustav and Henriette was like when he lived in their kingdom?

most of them are that the king and queen must have know he was emblian. i mean, they must have known. for one, he’s got the fluffy white Signature Emblian hair, and he was a child running for his life, I doubt he had time to dye it, even if he thought of it or known it could be done. for two, we know canonically that askr and embla had in the past, when they were friends, different writing systems, so i find it really most likely that in the present day they have completely different languages and certainly different accents. at the very least, judging by the way anna greets Kiran at the beginning of the game, the languages have different registers so. here comes this emblian-looking kid who looks emblian and sounds emblian. coming from the direction. of embla. and i can buy why the askran children would never have guessed that zach was emblian? because they are children, it probably wouldn’t have been obvious to them, given they probably would have never even met an Emblian before.

BUT!

the king and queen ought to know better. NOT ONLY does it seem likely that king gustav would have battled the last Emperor (possibly even personally, as i dont think the blood curse is going to allow the emperor to fight from the sidelines), gustav and henriette would have certainly seen emblians. especially if the war with embla only started back up again with the last Emperor. it could even be so that gustav may have met the emperor, back in the days when gustav’s father ruled. however, thats all speculation the point is that gustav and henriette have access to far more information than the children. i think its almost unrealistic if they never knew that this kid who snuck into their kingdom and befriended their children was an emblian.

now, i used to push it a tiny bit further before book iii came around in that. i cannot imagine that the emperor having a son would not be noticed by anyone. i know we are told the emblian royal family is really complicated, but i think the askran intelligence, which they do seem to have, would be insanely derelict in their duty for them not to have known that. for one, this is a kid the emperor had with his not-wife, who is despised by the entire royal family, so. thats going to be talked about right there. for two, askr has this incredibly dangerous warring neighbor, whose bloodline powers are a massive source of conflict and keep leading to war, and the askrans are not paying attention to the actual emperor‘s kids? i don’t find it likely. what i find more likely is that if alfonse, after a little bit of thinking, can figure out who bruno is despite the complexity of the court and years after he’s been banished from said court, then gustav and henriette would have definitely known of this kids existence. and i dont think it would have been that big of a leap for them to say:

“hey. so we know the emperor has a kid. about this many years old. who is despised by the royal court. and we also know that this random emblian kid, of the same age, who speaks high court emblian and just got caught fleeing from the direction of the capital is the same age. and, in fact, looks kind of like the guy that you gustav have actually seen and hey, he’s even got that distinct eye pattern that’s so recognizable he’s going to go through massive lengths to hide his eyes in the future when he’s trying to conceal his identity. wow, i wonder if, given all that, this could be the same kid?”

followed up by almost immediately:

“hey, our vulnerable and young royal children have really taken a shine to this mysterious child who could be a threat. lets send some spies to go check on his story. oh wait theyre saying the emperor’s lover is dead? also his kid is missing? how strange lets call this zacharias child bruno one day while he’s not paying attention and see if he responds. he did? cool beans problem. solved. it sure would be nice to have an emblian on hand who doesnt hate us for gate-closing purposes lets be really nice to him and make sure he doesnt leave.”

so that was my main headcanon regarding the king and queen and zacharias for like. forever.

HOWEVER. gustav, as he is wont to do, enjoys personally coming to destroy my headcanons and book iii has pretty much jossed the crap out of this. while they could have known zach was an emblian, it seems much less likely to me that they knew he was of royal blood, otherwise they would have asked him to close the hel-gate. UNLESS, of course, there is more to that story than gustav is telling us…

or i suppose maybe because zach’s curse stuff kicked in way later than vero’s seems to, maybe it simply seemed like he also didn’t have any gate powers either, and the king and queen assumed zach wasn’t actually the emperor’s kid. idk

anyway, this is a really long au where the king and queen know zach is emblian from the start but they take him inanyway that i scribbled out a long time ago that made me really saaad. i never put it on ao3 because its not clean and tidy yet, but. i really ought to. deals with some negatively portrayed erasure of zach emblian identity so heads up if that is triggery for anyone

[lord-dusk]

Jurassic Emblem-Chapter 4

 Teba and Warbler walked through the silent moonlit halls of Askr Castle, stopping at the odd corner here and there to ensure no one was following suit. They were under Henry Wu’s orders to retrieve frozen embryos from Askr’s cryogenics lab.

 Why would the Kingdom of Askr dabble with embryos, you ask? Well you see, many different Heroes are summoned in the kingdom by Askr’s top tactician, and summoner, Kiran. As many of the Heroes developed family-sickness, Askr was considerate enough to give Heroes the choice to be impregnated with embryos created by volunteering souls. As Queen Henriette said to newly-summoned Heroes, “Family is the most powerful asset you can have.”

While Askr was liberal enough to implant embryos into longly-yearning couples, it was also true Askr guarded them with the utmost security measures. As Teba and Warbler weren’t summoned by Kiran, they told him and Queen Henriette they were travelers looking for a place to rest. A lie that wasn’t too far off, considering the two mercenaries only had a few days to deliver the embryos to Wu. And Teba had to remind Warbler quite a lot not to look at the Heroes’ children as though they were running chicken nuggets dipped in Malbec.

 Earning the people’s trust was accomplished with relative ease. Getting past security measures was another. For one, the cryogenics lab was guarded by a small turret that fired a 365 degree Centigrade(689 degrees Fahrenheit) laser that roasted any intruder’s tendons, and the door can only be opened with Henriette’s Fam-Card(which she keeps in her green tome). Earlier that day, Teba took a stroll throughout the entire castle, memorizing the wings and rooms while Warbler had spent the entire sunlit hours guzzling Caubernot Sauvignon and gibbering on how “the new Hairy Potty kids from Three Houses are gonna get flushed.”

 Later that night, they executed their plan. Teba silently slipped into Henriette’s room like some eel and carefully opened her green tome that was laying closely by her passed-out self, her curvy frame enveloped in white lacy lingerie and blanketed in a transparent bolero.

Yep, the hard part was not extricating the Fam-Card out of Her Majesty’s tome, but resisting the powerful urge to spray your milt all over her-

Blushing quite madly and feeling a peculiar stickiness oozing from within his kimono, Teba quickly swiped the card from the tome and vanished into the darkness.

                                             ***********

 “Looks like someone was being horny,” a purple-white dragon smirked by a smoking pile of goop by her feet. “you could have spawned with her, if you’d like.” She was leaning against the door to the cryogenics lab without a care in the world.

“.....Warbler, thou must remember not to lose sight of our missions,” Teba sighed as he slipped the Fam-Card through the slider-holster and pushed the door open.”Not to mention the fact I’m not an amniote.”

“What’s an ammy-note?”

“An amniote is any creature that can-ah, slip of the tongue.”

The room the two mercs were in was very frigid, kept cold and illuminated with a blue light by special Sapphice-Gems held in place like freezing candles. In the room were two storage containers in which precious zygotes were kept.

Teba took out the Midnight Merlot bottle handed to him by Wu out of his garments, and unscrewed the dewar. Warbler stood watch for any job-blockers as the red-blue samurai opened one of the storage containers and proceeded to take the embryos, placing in the the dewar’s slots.

Then he opened another container, and repeated the process, until he got 12 embryos of each Hero. Quickly, he screwed on back the dewar, and a distant FSSSH hissed out of the bottle.

Warbler did the honors of closing the containers. “I’m hungry Warbler. Do you suppose we can go to Zombie’s Subs after this?”

“After we deliver the embryos to Wu, I don’t see why not,” Teba replied. They headed out of the lab.

And indeed, just outside the lab were five velociraptors.

A brown one with a scar on her nose.

A dark-green one with brown stripes.

A light-green one with light blue high-lights.

And two navy-blue ones.

[unwaveriinghearts-a]

Alfonse vc: how do I family

As of book III,we’ve gotten a little more information on how the Royal Family of Askr works, and I’d like to incorporate that a bit more into how I write Alfonse. I’ve put this under a cut because it got massive.

Regarding Gustav Here’s the big one. Gustav and Alfonse’s relationship is defined by their status rather than their familial bond; they are King and Crown Prince of Askr before they are Father and Son, and it shows. Alfonse can obviously not look inside Gustav’s mind to know why his father disapproved so fervently of his activities among the Order, but assumes it’s because he went ‘off-script.’ In fact, Alfonse’s joining the Order in the first place was as much a cry for attention as it was and act born of genuine desire to help his people directly. They have not spoken since the day Alfonse packed his bags and his Key and left the royal castle.

When at the start of chapter 1, Henriette told Alfonse his father wanted to speak with him, he hoped briefly there was a chance for reconciliation- only to learn that Gustav had reached out to him on official state business, namely the Hellion invasion. They are both too stubborn to yield on their viewpoints, making any meeting between them tense and awkward. That said, Alfonse does believe Gustav is right- he’s been king for years, and his rule was prosperous until Veronica went on the offensive, so surely he’s doing something right adhering to his philosophy, while Alfonse has yet to prove much of anything adhering to his. He mainly refuses to yield because he really doesn’t want to rule from the distant safety of his castle when his people are in danger and he can’t turn a blind eye to the suffering in front of him.

All of this being said, there was no abuse in this household. At the very most, Gustav has neglected Alfonse’s emotional needs (and Sharena’s as well if their lone interaction is any indicator) but I don’t believe that’s necessarily born of malice. Every story has two sides, after all, and we don’t know Gustav’s in this one. Lord knows my Alfonse is already similar enough to my Marth as is, so I’m not adding emotional abuse to the list of things he has to angst over.

Regarding Henriette The stiff manner in which Alfonse interacts with his father, and his identity being largely defined by his station, extends to his mother, albeit much less strongly. She seems to take up a neutral position between the two fires, treating Gustav with the respect he deserves as a king of Askr but also clearly loving and missing Alfonse and Sharena. Alfonse finds it slightly easier to refer to her without title, but he’s not a small boy anymore and he struggles to show any real affection.

Regarding Sharena Alfonse’s relationship with Sharena is the massive exception to the rule. He knows that normally, he shouldn’t acknowledge her existence nor she his beyond him being first and she second in line for the throne, but it’s so damn hard to not take note of Sharena when she’s so present in his life. Considering their respective personalities it was entirely her who initiated personal contact between the two and she probably followed him to the Order; they were already somewhat close before Alfonse made the decision, but it was during their time in the Order that they really bonded as siblings, no longer surrounded by protocol and titles.

Having connected him with his personal, human side and snapped him out of his identity being defined by his station, Sharena is probably the most important person in Alfonse’s life- more so than even Zacharias or Hibiki. He trusts her implicitly, thinks little of confiding in her with even personal secrets, and will fight a dragon with his bare hands for her.

Needless to say, he is not at all pleased that Gustav and Henriette think less of her for being younger than him. In fact, he firmly believes that Sharena’s optimism, social ability, and compassion make her a far better candidate to rule Askr than himself- but also knows she would be miserable in that position.